Special Investigation Unit HQ, Interrogation Wing – Observation Deck
A thick pane of reinforced glass separated the cold, dimly lit observation deck from the two sterile interrogation rooms beyond it. In each room, one man sat—Danny on the left, Samuel on the right. Both were chained to metal tables, yet they lounged like it was some café meetup instead of a government black site.
Agent Vick stood with his arms folded, eyes darting between monitors. A man in his mid-40s with the look of a convenience store clerk but the posture of a war-hardened soldier—his vibe screamed, "I've seen some sht."*
Beside him, Director Jones, Captain of the Special Investigation Unit, sipped burnt coffee from a paper cup that looked like it had survived a budget cut.
Vick squinted at the screens. "So... these two are the ones, huh?"
Jones didn't even blink. "Yes, sir. These two."
Vick leaned forward, studying the boys. Calm. Too calm.
Jones continued, "We've tried everything—isolated cells, psychological pressure, randomized interrogation protocols. Lie detectors, memory probes. Nothing works."
He exhaled slowly, frustration lining his voice.
"They keep giving the exact same answers—word for word. Even when we changed the other guy's statement, tried to bait them into conflict. They just… adjusted. Like they knew. No tech. No signals. No obvious link. It's like they're two bodies sharing one damn brain."
He paused, then added with a shrug, "And yet... they have completely different personalities."
Vick raised an eyebrow. "And the Mark Territory incident?"
Jones grimaced, like he'd just tasted something bitter.
"They tore that place apart. Forensics recovered over thirty rotted corpses. Carbon dating estimates they've been dead for over a hundred years… but our ID matches say otherwise. These were Red File subjects—mid-twenties to mid-thirties. All of them under active surveillance."
He shook his head slowly.
"And the rest? A few more Red File cases and some women we found unconscious—they're awake now. But they're disoriented. Like they've just come out of a long dream. Most of them don't remember anything from the last fifteen to twenty years."
Jones paused, frowning at the data pad in his hand.
"It doesn't make any sense. Medical can't explain it. Psych can't explain it. No drugs in their system. No trauma markers. But something happened to them in that building. Something we don't have a protocol for."
On the screen, Danny grinned and shook his head, while Samuel chuckled and shrugged. No words exchanged. No sound. But they moved like twins in sync, laughing at some private joke.
Agent Vick silently pulled out his phone. He signaled Jones and the rest of the room to clear out. Jones looked confused for a moment but complied.
The call connected.
"This is Vick. Sir, this is absolutely insane. I think we've just found a new weapon against the Red Files. Seventy subjects neutralized. Twenty-five more in hospital—apparently recovered from possession."
He walked closer to the glass, eyes locked on the boys.
"They were just some YouTube vloggers making fake paranormal videos a few weeks ago. But now? They're like… demon kryptonite. Something must've happened in between. Something big."
A deep voice responded on the other end, calm but authoritative.
"If you think they're valuable, I'm granting full authority to the X-Division. Department Zero is on high alert. Something else is stirring in the country. Gang underworld's raging—new players, unknown threats. We don't have time for supernatural riddles. Handle it."
Vick nodded. "Understood, sir."
He hung up, pocketed his phone, and stared at the monitor again.
Danny laughed, head tilted back. Samuel pointed at the wall like he just made a joke.
Vick smirked. "This is getting interesting."
He stepped out of the observation room. Outside, Jones and a few officers stood nearby—smoking, coffee in hand.
Without a word, Vick snatched the coffee from Jones.
"Thanks for the coffee. Move them to the discussion room. Kill all surveillance. I want to talk to them."
Jones blinked. "Sir... that was mine. Want me to get you a fresh one?"
Vick raised an eyebrow. "You got COVID or anything contagious?"
Jones shook his head quickly.
"Then it's fine. You make yourself a new one."
Vick turned to another officer and plucked a freshly lit cigarette from his lips.
"I quit smoking yesterday," he muttered, taking a long drag. "But watching all of you light up? Damn, it's tempting."
His tone shifted—cold, commanding.
"Now move them. Before I finish this cigarette. I don't have all day."
Scene: No-Surveillance Discussion Room – Level 3, SIU HQ
The room was bare. No cameras. No mics. Just four metal walls, one long table, and three chairs.
Danny and Samuel sat side by side, cuffs loose around their wrists. Across from them, Agent Vick leaned back in his chair, silently watching. He hadn't said a word since they walked in. Just stared like he was dissecting them with his eyeballs.
Danny glanced sideways without moving his lips. "Dude… who do you think this uncle is?"
Samuel didn't flinch. "Judging by that T-shirt? Probably a convenience store manager. But nah... there's no way. He's been trying to read our thoughts for the last ten minutes. Poor guy's straining his third eye."
Danny smirked. "So... when you think they'll send the actual 'special officer'? You know, like the real big boss or whatever. We already freaked out those baby cops earlier with our telepathy stunt."
Samuel chuckled mentally. "Don't remind me. That guy almost pissed himself when I flipped his own mind game back on him. Tried to bait me by saying you confessed to the killings."
Danny: "Bro, seriously. Like we're five years old or something. Technically, sure—we did kill them... but they were demons."
While the two went off in their telepathic banter, Agent Vick finally raised a hand and snapped his fingers once—sharp and deliberate.
Vick: "Alright, you two. That's enough. Quit the brain-chatter and show a little respect. I'm here to talk."
The boys froze mid-thought. Danny's eyes widened. Samuel blinked.
Danny: "Wait… you can hear us?"
To be continue.