Vol1
It didn't take long for Rand to realize that there was much more to the anomalies of bats and birds.
Almost everyone in the apartment felt ill on the night he was tormented.
Some of them were just plagued by diarrhea and mild headaches, but others suffered very badly.
Ambulances screamed and gathered downstairs in the Pine Street Apartments when the sky was still grey.
Rand stood on the balcony and looked down, seeing one after another being carried out on stretchers from the gate. Rand had never hated his unusually sharp eyes so clearly, because they allowed him to see the pained expressions on the faces of innocent people.
A fat woman's eyes were bloodshot and squeezed out of their sockets like red-painted ping-pong balls. A young Pakistani had a bloody black hole on his forehead, covering his face with blood; a little girl who looked only six or seven years old had her cheeks cut with scissors by her suddenly mad mother, her body The blood was dripping, and the eyes were dull like a doll made of a dead man...
Munster's "singing" drove some people crazy, they were delirious, and you lost your soul completely in that poison-like sound.
The government vehicle soon arrived, and the epidemiologist set up a warning sign downstairs in Rand, and a researcher in a white closed suit came in with a suitcase.
This can make a lot of people feel very afraid of the scene, but like blood, it instantly aroused the enthusiasm of the paparazzi reporters. They came together like flies, the flashing lights flickering in the twilight of dawn.
"… sorry, no comment, I have no comment."
A spokesman's heart-rending official response was drowned out by the hurried questions from reporters. Rand heard countless names of himself in the words of those people.
However, at this moment, he had no time to think about the trouble he was about to face.
"God, what is this... what is..."
Rand slumped back into the living room from the balcony, gasping for breath on the carpet, trembling so hard that he could barely speak.
Rogers blinked. He looked at the messy scene on the balcony outside the floor-to-ceiling window, and there was an interesting look in his eyes.
He tried to comfort Rand, but Rand grabbed his wrist.
Damn, he didn't think Rand's strength was so great before.
"Rogers, what happened to those people... has something to do with me?"
Rand asked in a panic, pleading, looking like he was going crazy trying to get a negative answer.
However, before Rogers could answer, he had already said to himself: "Oh, of course, I think it should be related, that voice is so strange, I am so strange, God, I have done something. what… "
"Hey man, don't do that. You're freaking out your little pet."
Rogers couldn't help interrupting Rand's muttering.
He was right, Munster hovered uncomfortably on the roof above Rand.
Rand's mood seemed to affect him easily, and some of his hair stood on end.
"Calm down, what do you mean by 'voice'?"
Rogers asked without a trace.
Rand gave him the answer, but what the chaotic man was saying was hard to understand - let's just say there was such a "singing", but Rogers swears he was nothing but the sound of bats and birds hitting the glass last night , and there was no sound other than the howling of the children downstairs.
Then it can only be said that the voice is not something that ordinary people can hear.
Rogers then looked at the gills behind Rand's ears. They were a little lighter than when they first appeared, and the edges of the gaps showed a light white color and were tightly joined together. If you're not paying attention, you'll just think it's some kind of scratch... Of course, when Rand was gasping for breath later, Rogers saw those cheek slits quiver, and a jet of air gushes out.
In the blind corner of Rand's line of sight, Rogers raised his eyebrows.
Next, he went to the kitchen to get Rand some rosemary herbal tea.
Then he knelt down in the center of Rand's vision, forcing Rand to look into his eyes.
"Land, look at me," he said, reaching out and grabbing Rand's chin arrogantly. "Look me in the eyes and listen to me, you need to calm down. The CDC's got to be in this apartment. People check, for your own sake, and for your little pets, you have to brace yourself - I don't think you'd like Munster to be found by others Don't think about them, who knows if their madness is really related to you? Look, I didn't have any strangeness..."
The son of a serial killer, Rogers was adequately mentored by Lily Mackinson during his childhood. He is very skilled in all kinds of mental cues, and this time he used this ability on Rand.
The panic-stricken Rand gradually calmed down, although there was still some trance.
After a while, the CDC also checked his food and took some samples of his furniture. Rand's pale face was as bad as everyone else in the apartment who was still able to move, and they didn't pay him any more attention.
Although, after leaving his house, the two staff members couldn't help but lowered their voices and exchanged ideas.
"Wow, didn't think he was the 'Rand Sivers'. Looks like he's been tossed around a lot."
"Shut up, his identity is not something we should be thinking about, the sampling of the tank we should be thinking about now..."
They walked through an emergency exit.
After the footsteps gradually faded away, a thin figure cautiously slipped in through the hidden door.
Vol2
Thompson Ray has been with the Kansas Living Journal for six years (a notorious local gossip tabloid filled with tidbits and gibberish).
Unlike his co-workers who can get by, Thompson has been the tabloid's most effective "reporter"—if he can even be called a reporter.
In fact, he should be called a "paparazzi", and the most immoral and bottomless. Money and the pursuit of fame and fortune have made him the most greedy and keenest wild dog in the information chasing war. You know, only since he got the bug and the needle-eye camera from ebay two years ago, he has never worried about where those leaks came from, he just needs to process the facts a little (meaning filling in several times of obscene speculation and nonsense), coupled with a cowardly headline, readers will naturally reach for his paper.
As for breaking the law? Oh, Thompson naturally knew a lot of his actions were illegal...but so what? He was never caught after all.
He is professional.
What happened to Rand Sivers this time tugged at his heartstrings from the very beginning. Thompson knew better than anyone the value of that hapless man. The experiences of his youth, his mysterious and rich brother, and the bombing that cost so many lives... Rand Sivers is a god-given creature for tabloid pages.
After countless days of waiting outside that damn apartment, Thompson was once again in God's favor. The food poisoning incident at the Pine Street apartment (or whatever, but that doesn't matter) allowed Thompson to successfully infiltrate the interior of the apartment amid the chaos.
Infiltrating the apartment with him were a patch bug and a pinhole camera in his purse. During the long wait outside the apartment, Thompson had studied the structure of the apartment complex well. If he can venture enough to climb out of the balcony of the vacant apartment next door to Rand Severs (where the original owner is said to be missing), he could have his equipment, including a camera and several high-resolution Rate bug, placed under Rand Sivers' kitchen window.
This will be a great help for Thompson's subsequent "sources".
And he was really ready to do it.
He managed to pry open the door of the vacant apartment and stayed in the smelly living room until the night.
From this position, he could even hear Rand Sivers talking vaguely with another man in the living room.
"...you should rest, Rand... given your current state of health..."
"sorry, I… "
"… listen to me, go to sleep, and when you wake up, we'll be thinking about what's next… "
…
Omg, a man!
Thompson's whole body was boiling with blood, and a nasty headline had popped up in his mind, and he was sure readers would love it.
About an hour later, the lights in Rand Sivers' living room went out.
After another hour, his apartment fell into silence.
At this time, it was dark, and it was a good time for Thompson's activities.
He put a low-power penlight in his mouth, flipped down from the outside of the balcony with both hands and feet, and then cautiously crawled towards Rand Sivers's kitchen windowsill under the dim light of the flashlight.
Things have been going well.
Maybe one day I can consider being a Snitch after I quit this damn reporter. Thompson couldn't help grinning because of his humor.
The laptop slid between his teeth, crashing straight into the apartment.
"Oh, damn it..."
Thompson's whole body suddenly fell into darkness.
There was no moon this night, he could barely see anything, and he couldn't help cursing many times in a row.
But what should be done is to be done after all. After hesitating for a moment, Thompson finally decided to grope according to the location in his memory. He was already very close to that windowsill, very close...
One small step, then another small step.
He took a moment to smear and moved to the window in his memory, and after a sigh of relief, he took out his eavesdropping equipment from his pocket, ready to install them as usual.
But he tried many times without success.
The curved surface of the window edge prevents the camera's magnetic base from fitting completely, and it keeps falling down forever.
Cold sweat soon broke out on Thompson's forehead, and he could feel his knees getting colder and numb.
Because he stayed in the same position for a long time, he was about to lose control of his lower body.
"You son of a bitch designer, who the hell uses curved window sills..."
He couldn't help cursing.
Then, his voice suddenly stopped.
That's right, no one uses curved window sills.
He had observed Rand Sivers's window sill before to determine where the bug was installed, and now he clearly remembered that the boy's window sill was well-mannered, definitely not the one he felt with his fingertips now. Cold and uneven arc surface.
"Gudong-"
Thompson swallowed dryly.
A strong ominous foreboding came out of Thompson's mind like a mushroom cloud. The cold sweat on his head grew more, dripping on his chin, and then on his chest.
He struggled to keep his eyes open in the dark, trying to see what he was touching. But the excessive tension made it difficult for him to maintain his balance, and in an instant, his body fell to one side.
He didn't even have time to let out a short exclamation.
He's done.
It was his only thought at the time.
However, in the next second, something wrapped heavily around his waist and dropped him in the air.
"God, God..."
Thompson breathed a sigh of relief and murmured with tears in his eyes.
He didn't even have time to finish the second "God" - the thing that was hanging him "slipped" and suddenly tore him through the small gap of the kitchen window.
The unfortunate paparazzi's body broke his collarbone and several ribs in the huge force and narrow window. The pain blinded him, and he fainted with a groan.
Vol3
"Clap" sound.
The human body fell to the floor with a heavy, muffled sound.
Mountshit let go of his tail and spun around in a probing circle beside the limp body.
If it was before, he wouldn't even allow such an intruder into the apartment, he would just enjoy his late-night snack directly outside the window.
But some of Rand's education to him during this time made this little monster vaguely aware that perhaps eating the prey directly in this way is not very advocated in Rand's view.
Twoleg society has a complex and hypocritical code of its own, at least in Munster's mind, but he's willing to abide by it for Rand's sake.
only…
Trapped in this tiny apartment for a while (you know, since the paparazzi were downstairs in early summer, the hapless Munster wasn't even allowed to go out on the balcony to get some air) Munster had a natural restlessness, it Some want to hunt and the fresh food makes it mouth watering.
It couldn't help but circled around the unconscious human again, lowered its head, and dripped digestive droplets on his face.
A few seconds later a red spot appeared there, with tiny shiny blisters.
Perhaps it was the pain caused by the digestive juices corroding the skin, Thompson, who was already in a coma, let out a weak moan, and the eyeballs under his lids rolled.
He was about to wake up.
And it was at this time that Rogers appeared at the door of the kitchen.
He had just dealt with Rand's problem of falling asleep, and his brows raised slightly after seeing the human body that suddenly appeared in the kitchen.
"Oh, don't tell me you can even catch this now..."
Munster's hair twisted in the air like Medusa's snake hair, its red and bright eyes fixed on Rogers, and made a threatening sound.
In fact, it hated Rogers more than Rand imagined.
But Rand didn't allow it to hurt him.
This made Munster even more annoyed.
Rogers smiled at it, but of course he had been cautious.
He slowly, slowly approached Thompson. The bugs and cameras scattered on the ground made him frown. He squatted down and took out his business card from Thompson's arms.
A reporter... no, a paparazzi.
The smile on his face deepened.
Thompson opened his eyes vaguely, and he was so unlucky to see Rogers' undisguised bloodthirsty smile, and a faint scream almost came out of his throat, but before that, Rogers forced snapped his jaw and forced it to dislocate.
Thompson contorted the muscles of his face in excruciating pain and terror as he slapped the ground hard before being pinned to the ground by Rogers.
Seeing that Rogers touched his "prey", Munster couldn't help but almost attacked Rogers.
And it was at this time that Rand's slightly sleepy voice came from the corridor.
"Munster? Are you slapping the ground? Please don't do that, the tenant downstairs has complained a lot..."
His footsteps approached, and Rogers smiled and opened the locker under the kitchen.
He removed Thompson's arms and legs with astonishing speed, then haphazardly pulled an orange from the fridge and stuffed it into the hapless paparazzi's mouth. Like stuffing a rag, he stuffed Thompson's limp body into the locker.
"If Rand knew you were a monster that hunted humans, I don't think he would be happy."
The moment he closed the cabinet door, he leaned into Munster's ear with astonishing courage, said softly, and backed away like lightning.
When Rand appeared in the kitchen with a tired face, Rogers placed his hand on the refrigerator door that had been opened earlier.
"Hey Rand, need some soda?"
he said with a smile.
"Oh no thanks, I just need some water to take my aspirin, I think I'm starting to get a headache again," Rand waved his hands and looked suspiciously around the two in the kitchen." Hmmm… I thought the two of you weren't doing so well, but it seems to be much better now. I was worried about what kind of conflict it might create between you two by keeping you vigil in my apartment…”
Rogers shrugged: "I still don't think your little pet likes me. But now is a special time, don't you need my friend? It will understand."
His eyes were fixed on Munster.
And until Rand left the kitchen, Munster never said a word about the hapless man in the closet.
Hearing the bedroom door closing, Rogers smiled and dragged Thompson out of the locker.
The uncontrollable saliva in the latter's mouth had completely wet the clothes on his chest, and his eyes were filled with tears of fear.
When he was dragged out this time, he saw Munster on the side.
His eyes widened at that moment, and when he saw Munster's free movement, he cast an extremely unbelievable gaze, and then immediately fell to the ground like an insect with its wings and legs plucked out. Moved hard and ugly, trying to escape without meaning.
Rogers was almost physically excited by the frail and frail human appearance.
Munster suddenly popped his tail, which pulled Thompson's body towards Rogers.
"Take him... leave... Rand doesn't like that."
It stared at Rogers and said coldly.
You have to admit, staring at those bright red pupils, even a killer like Rogers still feels a touch of involuntary tension.
But soon he put on a relaxed look in front of Munster.
"Okay, okay. You don't look like you're going to have supper."
He spread his hands, pretending to be helpless.
After hearing the word "night supper", Thompson, who was stepped on by Rogers, struggled a little more.
"Munster?"
Rand's reproach came from the bedroom.
Munster's ear thorns and hair stood up at the rebuke, and its hostility and anger were surging. Rogers, who adapts and understands the breath of death better than anyone else, also restrained the illusion of his hippie smile at this time.
Bottom line for teasing Munster, he thought.
He rubbed his temples with a headache, then nodded to Munster.
"Okay, Lord Munster, I'll take care of this, I'm sorry."
He put on a pitiful disgust.
Then he looked around the kitchen, and pulled out a clean old stainless steel fork from the drawer.
He clamped Thompson's head in his knees, bent over, caught his chin with his fingers, and pushed the fork through the inside of the man's mouth and back in under the silent horror and twitching of the man.
The entire fork sank into Thompson's head.
Rogers tilted the hapless man's head back and stirred it with the handle of his fork.
After a violent twitch, Thompson fell silent like a power-off toy.
His eyes turned red, and dark red bloodstains slowly flowed down his nose and ears, leaving marks on his cheeks.
Munster, looking restless, once again made a demonstrative sound against Rogers.
Rogers quickly stuffed his fork into his pocket and walked out with Thompson's body on his shoulders.
"Please, I have to deal with it."
He complained softly and opened the door to transfer the body to his room.
However, the sound of his door opening made Rand, who was unable to sleep because of his thoughts, could not sleep. Rand thought Munster had offended Rogers again, so Rogers would leave late at night. Before that, in order to suppress Rand's physical abnormality and prevent Munster from making that strange sound, they had agreed that Rogers would stay in Rand's living room for the night.
When Rogers took out the door key, Rand opened the door anxiously in his pajamas.
"Sorry, Rogers, Munster is having a tantrum at you again... uh, this is..."
When he saw Thompson, he was slightly stunned.
He was awake the whole time, but he didn't hear any other sound.
"This is my friend. He's drunk and has some broken hearts. I have to settle him first. Don't worry, Munster and I will have a good relationship."
Rogers said without changing his face.
He even gave Rand a wink, and then he dragged his "friend" into his room like a real drunk.
"Well, wish your friend a good dream."
Rand breathed a sigh of relief and returned to the living room.
However, an unspeakable strangeness always made him feel a little uneasy, as if something was nibbling at his marrow.
Something makes him feel very unusual, but...
Rand poured himself another glass of water in the kitchen, then dug out a bottle of sleeping pills from behind the cupboard.
He thinks he's really going to sleep, and he doesn't see anything right now - Rand sighs, then thinks silently.
It was also at this time that Rand discovered the anomaly in an inconspicuous spot on the kitchen floor.
That's a drop of blood.
Rand reached out and touched... The drop of blood was still warm.