Cognitive Deviance

9. Ghosts

"Who are—" he tried to ask, but he went completely silent as he felt a knife carefully insert itself into his mouth. He could feel the cold rough metal of the blade placed firmly inside his cheek.

"Stay quiet, man," said the voice of a teenage boy. He sounded nearly as scared as Arthur. "Trust me. It's the smart thing to do."

"What the—" Arthur went quiet again as the point of another knife tapped against his throat. One wrong move and the blade could be jammed into his neck.

"Listen to my brother, sir," replied another voice, this time a girl. "You wouldn't want us to mess up that pretty face of yours, do you?"

Arthur's heart was pounding out of his chest. He kept his back pressed against the wall as if the world around him was closing in. The only thing he could do now is make the right moves. He did his best to slow his breathing.

"Good," the girl concluded. "Lights out."

The holographic screen faded out, drenching the room in total darkness. Arthur's heart continued beating rapidly. He tried to gulp back the fear but instantly regretted it as he felt the tip of the knife prick his throat. And if he didn't end up with a blade in his throat, there was also the possibility he could get a smile carved into his face.

"Please," he whispered fearfully.

"Scared of the dark?" the girl taunted, although he couldn't see her. "Poor thing."

More footsteps echoed through the room. The sound of wheels rolling against the floor followed suit. Someone had taken the rolling chair next to his desk.

"Step aside, kids," a third voice said, one deeper and more sinister.

Arthur remained frozen as the knives carefully parted away from his face. He grabbed his lip, flinching as he felt the sting of a small cut. Then his attention was fully focused on the sudden reappearance of his holo-computer's screen, hovering above the desk like a cloud. Caught in the screen's dim blue glow was a stranger in a white mask, red X's stretched across his eyes.

"Fuck," Arthur whispered as he studied the Multi Man's mask. He couldn't help but think about what horrible thoughts went on behind that plastic smile plastered on the mask.

The Multi Man remained as still as a statue, only moving his hands as he twirled around a knife in his hands.

"Who sent you?" Arthur croaked. "Am I special to you or something?"

"You're not special," the Multi Man replied. "Nobody is special. Understand?"

Arthur nodded his head.

The Multi Man slammed his blade into the desk. "ANSWER ME!"

"Y-y-yes, I understand," Arthur stuttered, his view stuck on the blade lodged in the surface of his desk. "Where's Lily?"

"If you're talking about your secretary, she's fine. I watched her get into her car. Had to make sure she wasn't a witness."

"But she might not be fine for long, though," the teenager girl added.

"Crimson!" the Multi Man shouted. "Watch your mouth." He cleared his throat and leaned closer into the dim light of the holographic screen. "You're a journalist, right? Arthur Cohen. Thirty-nine years old. Jewish descent. No known diagnoses according to the DSM-6. You've written over three hundred articles ever since your career began, managed to piss off who-knows-how-many people. They say you're a determinator. Nothing will ever get between you and a good news story, correct?"

"Uh, correct."

"Then this shouldn't be too much of an issue." The Multi Man yanked his blade off the desk. "I need you to keep Psychwatch distracted for a while. Send them down the trail as long as they have no sense of direction."

"What?"

"They're aware they have no control over the Psycho Slums. At least not for long, anyway. It's a no-man's land. A move made by one side will leave them vulnerable to an attack by the other. That's what I'm taking advantage of."

"I don't understand."

"Psychwatch wants control of the Psycho Slums. They want to know the unknown. Knowing everything isn't always healthy, y'know."

"Listen, I don't know what the fuck you're saying or thinking."

The Multi Man paused. He carefully cracked his knuckles, cherishing the moment as Arthur stared into the red X's of his mask with a petrified look.

"Is there anything wrong with that?" Crimson asked. "Is there anything wrong with thinking unconventionally?"

"'Unconventional' seems a bit like an understatement, sweetheart," Arthur deadpanned. "And what's his problem? And yours?"

"He just wants someone to understand him. Is that too much to ask for?"

"Thank you, dear," the Multi Man said. "We're all broken people, Cohen. But we have ways of putting ourselves back together. We never needed Psychwatch. And I'm here to prove that we never will."

"What are you gonna do?"

The masked man paused. "The P3S thinks I don't exist. In fact, many of the people in this room are unknown to the System. Just ghosts."

"Good for you," Cohen replied skeptically. "And what would you do if I somehow told the authorities who you are?"

"Nobody knows who I am. I've learned to embrace that."

"Then who or what the hell are you?"

"You want to know who I am?" The Multi Man leaned forward. "Think about the person you care most about in this world."

"Done."

"I'm the guy who will break into their home and slaughter them and their entire family. Then their friends. Their associates. If anyone's even gotten a glimpse of that person, they're dead." The Multi Man twirled his knife around his hand. "And then there's you, the one who'll die the slowest and most agonizing. So that as every last second of your life passes, you can think about all the people who went down because of you."

Another shiver went down Arthur's spine. He nearly jumped as Crimson placed her hand on his shoulder and flashed a dissonantly nonchalant grin barely visible in the glow of his computer's screen.

"Have I made myself clear, Mr. Cohen?" the Multi Man continued.

Arthur could feel the tip of a machete pressing against his free shoulder, and when he looked to the side he saw Whitey pressing his blade against him. "Say it," Whitey whispered.

"Yes, sir," Arthur nodded, ice filling his veins.

"Good," the Multi Man replied. He snapped his fingers, and right on cue the emergency lights sprung to life. Arthur could finally see what the monsters who now had control over his fate looked like. He could finally see the Man's navy blue tuxedo and that the siblings on the verge of ending his life were nothing more than two albino teenagers.

"One more thing," Arthur added.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Whitey hissed.

"I know I'll eventually learn to respect you," he continued in reference to the Multi Man, "but I should probably add that most killers nowadays...they're generic."

"How so?" the Man asked, his fist clenching around his knife.

"They're forgettable. Once people are done grieving the victims and the news has finished glorifying these killers like urban legends, they fade out of existence and get lost in the archives of psychology textbooks and criminal records. Definitely intimidating, but only for a moment."

"Are you telling me I'm not a threat?" the Multi Man asked, his voice raising.

"Up close and personal, you are," Arthur continued. "But in a city of two million people, you'll have to do some pretty horrible things to stand out."

"Then tell me, Cohen. Do I look like the kind of threat this city is ready for?"