BEYOND 3A: BloodRed and ScaleBlack

The Thirty-Fifth Feather: The Wall Of Flesh

Deeper down in the underground prison, the captives were being taken to where the most dangerous criminals were held. Imogen asked with her eyes squinting and sweat dripping down from her forehead: "Um, are we... Going to get locked up here?"

Caitlyn: "What? God, no. I'm taking you to our special interrogation room. We have someone there who can squeeze the truth out of you whether you want to or not."

Imogen: "... Is it going to be painful?"

Cailyn: "Physically, no. Mentally, yes. He's unbelievably invasive."

Imogen: "Good lord, that can't bode well."

Several minutes of walking later, they were faced with a nearly empty hallway at the very bottom floor. There was a single cell, containing the entity Caitlyn talked about. They all stood in front of its door and the kids gulped, uncertain of what awaits them. Caitlyn told them: "Each one of you will go inside at a time, I ain't going in there."

Imogen: "Uhh, okay..? I guess I'll go first."

Imogen gulped again and stepped foot inside the unlit room. When the door was locked, Imogen felt more and more uncomfortable until the lights were turned on, revealing the prisoner. To say that it wasn't human would be a severe understatement, it was a pulsating mass of discoloured meat, flesh, and organs, all hanging on a string like laundry near the wall parallel to the door. Two eyes scattered around that disgusting sight started twitching and crawling toward the centre, where that creature's mouth was. No, it wasn't a mouth, it was more like a gaping, dry wound. Once the eyes got to their required positions, the wound started mimicking the movements of a mouth, causing sounds similar to a human's voice to echo throughout. It questioned Imogen with utmost inhuman intrigue: "Finally, a real American! Tell me, American! Is it true that in capitalist America, no one's allowed to serve dairy free butter in prison?!"

Imogen: "...What?"

The Wound: "FASCINATING! Tell me something, Imogen, what happened to that black cat?"

Imogen: "Hold on a sec, how do you know my name?"

The Wound: "How? It's because I know EVERYTHING! And much like how I know EVERYTHING, I also know EVERYTHING about you and every bad deed you've ever committed!"

Imogen: "Well, that explains why we're here."

The Wound: "Yes! Now, about that black cat."

Imogen: "Why would I tell you about it?"

Imogen: "Because you aren't getting out of here unless you confess! Them's the breaks!"

Imogen: "Okay...? Sure. The black cat... That's a cringy memory. It was a couple years ago, I think. I once broke a black cat's leg so I could have something to write about. Yeah, it's uhh... A really cringy memory. I was a psycho when I was young. I'm not proud of that. Not one bit."

The Wound: "And What about the Jones twins?"

Imogen: "...I'd rather not call back to that."

The Wound: "Then I hope you like the taste of wall moss."

Imogen: "Ugh, fine! I spread a bunch of rumours on the school's newsletter that ended up getting them arrested by the FBI! There! Are you happy?!"

The Wound: "Rumours like whaaat~?"

Imogen: "Oh, c'mon!"

The Wound: "That doesn't sound like a confession to me!"

Imogen: Agh! Look, all I did was spread rumours that they were involved in an online forum that encourages children to kill themselves and hike up corruption rates."