yessss please, I would like to know more
Have I ever told yall it feels really good when y'all are hyped for something I wanna talk about?
Anygay
November 13th, 2:34 P.M.
Jack and John looked Bob over thoughtfully as they sat on the other side of the interrogation table. He seemed so… different like this. And no, it wasn’t the thin orange jumpsuit, nor the massive cuffs needed for his wrists. It wasn’t the change of scenery, the drab grays and loneliness sharply contrasting the bright, public environments he usually staged his massacres in.
It was his calm, downcast, almost sad expression. The complete opposite of his sinister smile and gaze that stares into your soul. The way he slouched in his chair. His former sadistic air had just about dissipated and he looked like little more than a pathetic old man. He was almost a different man.
“So…” John started with a sigh, sitting forward in his chair. “You’re a cannibal?”
Bob’s gaze flicked up for a moment, before settling back on the table in front of him, humming out a quiet agreement.
“And how many of your victims have you actually… eaten?” he pressed, keeping an eye on the biggest’s every movement, studying his body language.
Bob seemed to think for a moment, counting on his hand before looking up at them again.
“I believe a bit of each… so, technically, all of them…” he finally said, his gaze lowering once again as he spoke.
“And how did this whole cannibalism thing begin, Mr. Velseb?” Jack asked.
The oldest heaved a deep sigh, emotion beginning to show deep in his eyes.
“That’s an… old tale, officers. One that I’m sure would be too borin for ya…” he said carefully, his expression just barely displaying distress.
“I’m sure a tale that ends with you as a man-eating serial killer is far from boring,” John reasoned.
“Hm… I suppose you have a point, but it’s a tale I’m not too… fond of, let’s say.”
“And why is that?” Jack questioned.
“Have you… ever been betrayed, officers? Either of ya?”
“Not yet, no,” the other ravenette answered, his partner grunting in agreement.
“Hm. ‘Yet.’ Bein realistic, I see… how else can I put this, then?” he seemed deep in thought for a few minutes before he continued.
“Have you ever done somethin you regret, but knew, in that moment, that you had to?”
“Well, yeah, of course,” Jack answered again.
“As officers, we usually have to make that decision on the field,” John affirmed, silently hoping that being a bit more open with Bob would encourage the same.
“Well… my story starts with a decision like that… or, well, the crimes did…”
He took a deep breath, finally locking eyes with the two.
“My story begins with me… and a friend. My closest friend, and maybe most loyal customer, a man named Corey, twelve long years ago. He and he were inseparable. Game nights, huntin, watchin football, every cliche thing two men could do, we were doin. And we loved it.
“He’d come by Boys ‘N Grills damn near every day at lunch, and we’d chat about whatever came to mind. Somethin new that caught our eyes, different grillin techniques, an idea about what to do after work, everythin.
“In fact, one day, Corey suggested we’d go hikin. He insisted it’d be a fun little adventure, and dammit, he looked so excited, how could I say no? Heh, it was endearin, almost cute as one of y’all might put it.
“We packed our things, and, around October 15th-ish, I believe, we set out in the woods. I remember it was right smack-dab in the middle of Spooky Month, and he was so excited for our ‘Spooky hike’, as he put it. And, I’ll admit, I was excited, too. It was nice gettin to go out and do somethin new with him.
“But, despite everythin we packed, our first mistake was leavin behind our compass. When me and him realized this, Corey assured me that we didn’t need it, that if we kept track of how many turns we made, we’d be alright. But that was our second mistake, trustin either of us to remember anythin while occupied with all the sights. After a while, all the trees started to look the same, and when I finally got scared of losin our way, it was too late. Corey kept insistin that we weren’t lost and could get back home easy, but I wasn’t sure… he should’ve listened to me…”
Bob trailed off, clutching his bandaged right hand. The searing pain from the bullet wound, when his hand had been shot to disarm him, felt like a little bug bite in comparison to the pain growing in what used to be a hollow chest. He wanted to focus more on the wounds outside than inside. He didn’t want to tell this story. But he had to, he knew he did.
“Hours turned to days… days turned to weeks… weeks turned to half a damn month we were out there. We were growin desperate after runnin out of food within the first few damned days… We couldn’t tell poisonous berries apart from safe and didn’t dare run the risk. We hadn’t brought any guns or fishin rods, and no matter how hard we tried, spearfishin always ended with us empty handed. We were lucky we didn’t see any bears or wolves out there, or I don’t think I’d’ve survived, either…”
“Are you saying that Corey died in the woods?” Jack interjected.
“If you’d let me finish, you’d’ve found that out… but yes… one day, Halloween, I think it was, somethin… happened to him. He couldn’t take it anymore. And, with the only weapon we had, a single damn pocket knife, he attacked me… caught me off-guard and cut me up real bad. The whole time I tried to fight him off, tryin to get him to snap out of it, tellin him we’d be ok, that someone would find us. Tryin to have the positivity that he’d had at the beginnin, but he wasn’t havin none of it. He kept talkin about how out there, there was no friendship. There was no partnership. There was no ‘us’…” his gaze turned to the mirror at the side of the room, “Just me, him, and hunger, and that one of us had to go, so the other could go on. I just wanted to get him off of me… I just wanted to stay alive, I…” he began to choke on his words, feeling tears trying to push past his defenses. He couldn’t cry, not here, not now. Not with two officers staring him down, probably more behind the walls. But at the same time, telling his story was hard, and it made breaking down so easy, the very last things that he wanted to do, he had to do in this confession. He took a deep breath to try to compose himself and force the tears back, trying not to hear the whispers in his mind, what the police could possibly be saying about him, and press on with his story.
“When we were fightin, I… I threw him against a tree. I didn’t think it was that hard, but… I was wrong… he wasn’t movin… he wasn’t respondin… he wasn’t even breathin… I wanted him to be paralyzed, I really did, because even that was better than the truth… but… I knew what I’d done to him… I’d broken his back, and I’d killed him… I don’t remember how long I cried, just that we’d fought around noon, and when my eyes finally cleared, it was dark. I’d killed my best friend, officers… And… I was so hungry… I know I should have just tried to look for something else, but at that moment… I… I don’t think I cared anymore…”
“Don’t say it…” Jack mumbled quietly.
“I ate him… I ate Corey… I felt like some kind of savage animal… it was the most bitter thing I’ve ever eaten… it tasted like pennies and raw pork and was every bit as bitter as straight, black coffee… And that’s not even the worst part…” he trailed off, losing his battle against his own tears despite how hard he tried to stay composed.
Seeing him in distress like this, even if he was a wanted criminal, it almost made the two officers feel bad for him.
“What was the worst part, then?” John prompted him to keep telling his story.
“The worst part… was that they found us the next day… or, I guess… they found me the next day… Corey was nothin more than a broken, dismembered corpse… and I’d buried him, so, they never found the body… My best friend, he deserved better than that… If I’d just held off one more day, if we’d held off just one more day I wouldn’t even be here right now!”
“That’s only one killing, what about the other several over the years?” Jack interjected, standing up.
“Officers… by now you must have noticed the pattern…”
“Yes, of course we have. One to three killings, every Halloween for the past eleven years, this year being the only exception besides the years you were in prison. We’d assumed it was to disguise it as a show.”
“That’s… not quite the truth. If you remember, I told you that me and Corey fought on Halloween… I ate him on Halloween night… well… somethin must have happened that night… or maybe there was somethin in his body but… Every Halloween, I get hungry… so, so uncontrollably hungry. I spend the day fightin it off, and the night… well, you can guess…”
“Hm… well, what changed this year? Like Jack said, this is the only year, besides your prison time, when you didn’t successfully kill someone. And we got to you pretty damn late, so what was keeping you from killing someone?” John asked, leaning forward in his chair as his partner sat back down. “Did it have something to do with this?”
The brunette produced a golden amulet tucked securely in an evidence bag. The amulet had a large, circular charm with a similarly round, baby-blue gem in the center, and two flowing, feather shaped decorations on the bottom. He set it down on the table and allowed the fugitive to examine it, although a single glance showed Bob knew exactly what it was.
“Where did you get that…?”
“One of our coworkers found it while we were going through your things, checking for evidence in case someone tried to plead a case for you. Interestingly enough, it looks just like the amulet worn by the assumed cultists running around, like this one,” Jack informed Bob, placing an image of a cultist on the table for proof.
“We’ll give you a moment to collect yourself, maybe some time to let it out,” John offered, noticing how the man was still having trouble from his near-breakdown earlier, “And then, maybe you can tell us what’s going on with you and the cult.”
A whisper near the door caught the attention of the two, whipping around to see the face of one of the aforementioned coworkers, none other than Shotty themself.
“Psst, guys, we got it,” they whispered, motioning to the two.
Jack nodded as he and John stood.
“Stay put and let it out, we’ll be right back. And don’t try anything,” he warned before the two headed out, meeting up with their colleagues.
“How much you get outta that guy?” Cap questioned, peering into the one-way window at Bob, who was finally crying, now that he was under the impression that he was alone.
“A lot, but it was all how he came to be a cannibal, and his urges. Did you two get what we asked?” John asked the two.
“Yep! And can I just add, this is a great thing you two are doing, especially you, Jack. I’ve never seen you give someone a second chance before,” Shotty said as they handed the stack of papers off.
“What are you talking about? I’ve given plenty of people a second chance!” Jack argued, a little offended.
“Name one.”
“Every cop in this town?”
“There’s four cops in this town, excluding you,” Cap pointed out, “And you never needed to give John a second chance because he’s basically our boss! Oh, also, not to divert or anything, but we figured the big guy would appreciate this stuff,” he handed the two a pack of tissues and a glass of water.
“Good, thanks. You two are being… really considerate towards a criminal. Something going on?” Jack asked, a bit suspicious of their behavior.
Shotty rolled their eyes a bit. “C’mon Jack, not everyone is as mean as you. I mean, yes, he has killed, like, a lot of people, but he still deserves tissues and water. Not to mention, from what we understand, he can’t actually help it, sooooo…”
“Fair. Now, we got one more job for you,” John finally spoke up again. “We need you to go talk to the mayor about our plan. He’ll listen to you more than he listens to us, for some god-forsaken reason, so if you talk to him about it, chances are he’ll listen.”
“You got it, boss,” Cap assured him.
“We’re on it! To Evermore’s houseeee!” Shotty cheered as they and Cap left.
“Hey, wait, don't go to his-! And they’re gone… oh those two are going to get fired one day…” the brunette grumbled.
Jack chuckled quietly, shifting the papers in his arms and looking into the one-way window at a now calming Bob.
“Looks like he’s stopping, should we head back in?”
“Mhm. Time to figure out what’s going on with that cult.”
The two stepped back into the interrogation room, Jack clutching the papers to his chest and holding the door as John carried over the tissues and water for Bob, sliding them over the table to the oldest. Wiping away his tears as the door slammed shut, the killer sighed heavily, having just let out twelve years of pent-up emotions in the span of a few minutes. He took a long sip of water as John continued from earlier.
“So, now that we’ve given you some time, what can you tell us about the cult?” the brunette got straight to the point.
“Nothin… I can’t tell ya nothin,” Velseb grumbled.
“And why is that?”
“I made a promise… and I always keep my promises. A good man always does, after all…”
“Barely a good man…” Jack grumbled, setting the paperwork in his lap.
“Well, I’m a man of my word, that’s for damn sure. And my word says I’ll keep quiet about that cult. All I can tell ya is they’re far more harmless than they seem.”
“Somehow, I have trouble believing that,” John argued. “But, is there anything we could do that could possibly convince you?”
“For that, officers, you’d have to do the impossible.”
“Which is?”
“Find out how to cure whatever the hell is wrong with me…”
The partners looked at each other before nodding, a knowing look in their eyes.
“Actually, Mr. Velseb, there might be a way,” Jack informed him, placing the stack of papers on the table, sliding them over to his fellow ravenette, who gave them a skeptical look.
“What’s this?”
“Paperwork. Paperwork to get you transferred from prison to a rehabilitation facility. This could be the key to your new life, Bob. With enough effort, we could help you completely get rid of your cannibalism… curse, in a sense. You’d never have to eat another person to satiate yourself again. In a few years time, you could be living a normal life, maybe even have a family,” John explained, gently pushing the papers more towards the unwilling cannibal.
“As nice as that’d be, officers… I’m afraid my reputation has been set in stone. No matter how many years of rehab I go through, I’ll always be Bob Velseb, feared and hated serial killer… no one will trust me to be in a store, no one will trust me to be alone. I’ll be monitored by everyone, no matter how many years go by. I’ll never have a normal life, nor a family. It’s too late to change that fact. However…” he began to think further about it, “your offer is temptin. Even if I can’t have a ‘normal life’, it would be nice to not have to deal with… whatever the hell happened to me. Do ya really think it’ll work…?”
“As long as you cooperate, then I think anything is possible, including helping you,” Jack reasoned, “but we need the information only you can give us.”
“You’re askin some pretty sensitive information… these people you’re investigatin, they’re not doin anythin wrong. I know they seem odd, maybe even creepy, but in all honesty, it’s more like a lil family thing. But that’s about all I can tell ya…”
“I know you can tell us a lot more, Mr. Velseb, and we can’t give you the papers until we have everything we need. It might seem a little unfair to you, but we can’t give you any sort of reward until we get what we asked for.”
Bob sighed a bit. He hated it, but understood. He’d either have to break his promise, or live out the rest of his life with an unbearable ‘curse’ in prison, most likely solitary confinement. Frankly, one option was far preferable to the other.
“Hm. Fine, I’ll tell ya what it seems like ya need to hear.”
The two cops glanced at each other before leaning forward a bit, signifying that they were listening.
“The cult isn’t quite what ya might be thinkin it is. The cult isn’t some high-and-mighty ‘our god is the only real god’, sacrificin, blood-thirsty, cliche cult from every doomsday movie. But, one thing’s for sure… that thing, whatever the hell it is… is real. I’ve looked into the depths of the hole it’s in, and I could almost feel it lookin back at me. They wanted me to meet it, but… they were kind when I refused. They seemed to understand, they let me in anyway. The leader, he told me that they didn’t like makin people uncomfortable. That they promoted comfort and happiness in the cult. As a matter of fact, they wanted me as a scout so they could help me overcome what I went through. I help them, they help me.
“They’re like a big family, the leader actin as a dad, in a way. Said somethin bout how he has a kid at home so it’s nothin new to him, I dunno. They meet every now and again, in that house on that hill. There’s a hole in the floor there that leads right to it. I’ve never seen it personally, but some of the members described it to me. Said it looks like a giant, pinkish, broccoli lookin thing, who’s head fades into darkness above, millions of baby-blue eyes formin the stars. A huge mouth that doesn’t even look like it’s connected with huge teeth that are on the outside, and long, kinda fluffy tentacles. They’ve told me what it’s like to look into it’s eyes, or, ‘the stars’, as they call it. They’ve said it makes ya almost numb, then their memories start blurrin together. I never get a straight answer of what happens after that, except that they ‘wake up’ feelin happy and calm, and that they’re already out of the hole when they come to. In fact, it can completely change someone’s attitude and everythin. I’m actually pretty close with someone who used to be bitter and spiteful, accordin to him, but after seein that thing, he was one of the calmest, kindest people I’d ever seen.
“Maybe that’s why I agreed to their deal… maybe I thought that thing could fix me. It seems like it changes people for the better. Bout everyone there either acted like that man, or was cheerful and sweet. I thought, if nothin else, it could make me happier. But, I got scared. I wussed out. I didn’t wanna see that thing, it sounded terrifyin. But, I guess in doin so, I kinda distanced myself from them, and the odd things that they liked…”
“What kind of things?” John asked, intrigued by his descriptions.
“Well, for the most part, affection. Especially ticklin. I don’t know why, but that seems like the thing everythin is centered around in that cult. I’ll run into people who can’t so much as say the word without lightin up in the face like a Christmas tree, or people who can say it so casually that they have full-blown conversations about it. I’ll walk past two or three tickle fights each meetin, ones that, half the time, end up bein very one-sided. Sometimes I’ll even let loose and join in. Though when that usually happens, I practically get dog piled and tickled until I can’t stop laughin for damn near an hour…” he chuckled a bit to himself, “It’s fun, though… I have to admit, they’ve got a damn good idea.”
“Tickling?” Jack asked in astonishment. Something so innocent from people who he’d thought just a few minutes ago were dangerous.
“Idea?” John echoed Bob’s words, more focused on the goal of this cult.
“Mhm. Spreadin happiness through a love of ticklin. It’s said that if you don’t already like it, seein the monster makes ya love it. I, personally, don’t mind it. But it’s not a strange, super-obsessive kinda love, it’s more like a sorta… what’s the word that he used…? Hyper… hyper… hyper-something-or-other… ah, hyperfixation, yeah. Basically, it’s almost always in the back of their minds, even when they don’t know it. Accordin to them, havin this shared love, bein able to confide in each other and be genuinely vulnerable with each other is actually really nice. And they wanna share this with the town. Simple as that.”
“That’s… really it? No hostile takeover bid? No ominous prophecy? No blood sacrifices?” Jack questioned, still in disbelief.
“Didn’t I tell ya at the start? No, none of that cliche doomsday shit. They just want to turn this small town into a happy family,” Bob reiterated, slightly annoyed.
