The Detective And The Monster

𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜

WARNINGS:
Guns
Forms of execution

*.*.*.*

The doors slammed shut the instant you trekked out, and you quickly overlayed the scene in front of you.

So this was B3. . .

There was a red, carpet-like material placed down the middle of the walkway, and on each side of the royal red, tiles in an elegant pattern. The walls were a chaste white, and in each intersection next to the elevator doors, were two cameras, watching you and Zack's ever move intently.

But, that wasn't the most noticeable thing about the welcoming nature of B3. It was the iron bars that started bolted to the floor, and rose high up to the ceiling.

They were prison bars.

It seemed Zack hadn't noticed the barricade yet, for he was back to his complaining.

"Damn it! Why can't this stupid thing just take us all the way up? We gotta find the damn elevator, again!?" He turned his angered attention to the iron bars, and his vexation was quickly replaced with confusion, tilting his head to the side and his different colored eyes broadening in interest.

You wondered if the man had some kind of bipolarness, but you had no way of figuring that out.

"This one's up to you, you're better at all the thinkin' stuff," he said, turning all around, overlooking the predicament the two of you were now in.

Although you knew it was true, what Zack was saying, you still wished he would at least try to help somehow.

You walked up to the bars and reluctantly placed a hand against the cold, iron surface. The bars were unable to be raised, which was probably the reason why there was a door made of the bars. You moved to the door and shook it a little, hoping luck was on your side and it was unlocked. But no, the door was locked, latched, sealed for all eternity it seems.

"What is it?" Zack asked, moving to stand close behind you, looking over your shoulder. You could just barely feel his chest touch the back of your shoulder as he leaned over you. His voice indicated he was calm, now just wanting answers.

Why did he have to be so close if all he wanted was explanations? You felt uncomfortable by how close he was, but you ignored it and answered him.

"Even if I told you, I'm not sure you'd understand-" you started, only to be interrupted by Zack. His hand launched forward and grabbed the bars only a mere few inches away from your face, half-trapping you in this situation. You looked at his bandaged hand, what was up with him?

"Shut up! Just spit it out anyway!" He demanded loudly, his voice carrying down the hallway beyond the iron bars.

You sighed, "the door's locked. My gun won't be of any help, and there's nothing else in this room that could unlock it. Honestly, I don't know what to do." You said, stepping away from Zack, leaving through the side that didn't keep you up to the bars.

Zack shrugged and removed his scythe from his shoulders, "fine then, I'll just smash it," he said, raising his weapon high above his head.

"That won't work, it's made of iron-" you were, yet again, interrupted by Zack.

"Shut it! Gotta try something!" He said stubbornly and slammed his scythe down on the doors. A sickening metallic ring echoed off the white walls. It brought discomfort to your ears, but you could only imagine the pain Zack was going through. Holding a metallic item that conflicted with iron harshly was a distinct kind of pain.