That evening, you were surprised to find the old and abandon warehouse is still standing as in some kind of defiance towards time. The roof isn't putting up as much of a fight, though.
The metal, corrugated tiles are peeling away, some, already fallen, lie discarded on the swathe of concrete spreading out from the building like a dull, grey moat.
The warehouse is hidden from view of the town by the forest and is far enough out on the edge that no one really pays it much attention. Or just like the other old places like people, it was mostly forgotten as well.
There is still enough of a trail through the trees for you to drive your car up to the building, though you find your teeth clacking together more than once over the uneven dirt track. Thankful to pull up onto the concrete, the cracks are easier to deal with than the tree roots.
Cranking on the handbrake, you lean over my passenger seat, ignoring the piles of crumpled paperwork, until your hands find the slim handle of your flashlight. It's a weighty piece of equipment, but its light slices through the gloom easily as you step out of the car.
You glance over the shadowed scene of the abandoned warehouse, the moon beginning to rise behind it, as if it was making you feel like a dumb character out of a horror movie.
The silence from the surrounding trees only makes the squeak of the metal doors echo louder. You can't help your mind running to who or what you might find inside, and whether it might be dangerous.
It's a really benefit that you can handle yourself well in a fight, if it comes to that. But still, the uncertainty of the situation makes you anxious regarding the recent murder.
With this thought, your hand travels to the gun and pepper spray on your belt, though the gesture doesn't help to settle your nerves as much as you'd hoped. You can't tell if it's the chill night air or worry that makes you suddenly shiver, but you do your best to brush the feeling away.
As you press onwards into the warehouse, you look around, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible.
When you get inside, you sweep your flashlight across the interior of the warehouse, the beam of light flashing through the murky darkness. It definitely seems empty, though you're not sure if that is a relief, or more of a concern.
Your shoes hit the dirt-caked floor, and you glance down. The tiles must have been rather beautiful at one point. Hints of yellow and red jut out between the dried mud, dust, and plants as your shoes scuff against them.
Graffiti lines most of the crumbling walls - all of it spray-painted with perfect spelling and grammar. God forbid one of the rebellious rich kids's parents find out they had spelled 'this place stink' incorrectly.
You roll your eyes at the mild language and tidy handwriting before wondering where to start.
Deciding that where you are is as good a place as any to begin, you move further inside. The light flashes across the wide space, the beam glancing off a cluster of burnt tin drums. A few ragged blankets are crumpled around them and that's why you move closer to inspect.
Strangely enough in your search, you don't find anyone homeless there, but there's definitely evidence that someone had been camping here. Maybe something spooked them to move on? You try not to let your thoughts linger on that idea and begin walking the edges of the large room.
Nothing seems overly out of place. Remains of old factory machines lie rusted and heaped in the centre, and a soft glow of moonlight through the doors gives a pretty clear view of the whole area.
It's not until you near the rustic doors again that you notice the flutter of plastic from one of the walls, like a curtain flowing in the breeze.
You swallow hard, balling your free hand into a tense fist at your side before relaxing the fingers. With slow, steady footsteps you approach the plastic curtain, readying yourself for whatever might lie beyond.
A sudden flurry of movement sounds from behind you, and your heart leaps into my throat. My instincts take over and you unholster the gun and spin around, pointing the barrel at the noise.
Only to let out a sharp breath when you realise it's just a flock of pigeons flying from the rafters.
"Thank god no one was around to see that", you mumbled to yourself.
With your nerves truly shredded, you shove your gun back into its holster. You were just about to strap it back in when you flinch again at the shrill ring of your phone from your pocket.
The ringing stings against your hearing, which had grown used to the heavy silence. You snap your phone out of your pocket and press it to your ear without looking at who's calling.
"Detective L/N", you say, voice coming out in barely more than a whisper.
"You all right, Detective?", Soobin asks from the other end.
You clear your throat at the sound of his voice, shaking yourself from the burst of adrenaline beginning to drain from your body, "Yeah, just got a bit of a scare at the warehouse."
"Are you all right? Do you need me to send someone to you?"
"I'm fine, don't worry", you reply, a little calmer, "It was just the birds living from the roof"
"Maybe it was a ghosy", Soobin says in jest, obviously hoping to distract you, and it helps, "I hear those kinds of places are always haunted. Or maybe a werewolf. It is a full moon, after all"
You give a chuckle, glancing out through the dirt-stained window to the bright moon beyond. The moonlight highlights the tops of the skeletal trees that stretch out towards town.
"As if werewolf were even real. It's fictional", you say in a heavy tone.
"But speaking of strange things, I found something odd about our victim....", he trailed off and you shift on the spot, waiting for him to continue.
"So odd it's shocked you into silence?", you ask quietly, eyes looking around the still silent warehouse.
"Almost," he replies, followed by a soft chuckle, "It's her blood", and there's the sound of shuffling papers from his line, "It's not hers"
You frown deeply, wondering if you heard him incorrectly, "What?"
"The blood in her body isn't hers. In fact, it's not even fully human"
"As in animal blood?", you offer as a guess.
"I'm not sure," he says, followed by a heavy sigh, "It resembles human blood, but it's definitely not all hers. The best way I can think of to describe it so far is that a parasitic virus has mutated the blood cells in a major way"
As you continue to talk to him about the strangeness of the blood, you decide to start making your way out of the warehouse. The echo of your voice around the empty room is a bit distracting.
"Is it contagious?", you ask, a hint of worry in your tone, "Like a disease?"
"No, not that I can tell so far", Soobin says, "I won't know anything for certain until I get the results of the tests, but I'll make sure to send them off to the hospital first thing tomorrow"
For all the modern appliances the station has, coincidentally donated by the mayor after his son decided to join the force, there isn't enough room for the big machines. Any testing has to be done at the local hospital.
"All right, I'll see you tomorrow then"
"Yeah, see you then," he says with a chirp.
After hitting the end call button and shove the phone back in your pocket, with your hand grabbing for the metal door to head outside and just a few seconds later or maybe just in a blink of an eye, someone appears barrelling into you from behind, sending you flying through the door.
The sheer impact made you collide heavily with the concrete and let out a loud hiss as pain jolts through your chest and arms. The flashlight skids across the concrete, the beam blinding you as it comes to rest a few feet away, shining brightly in your eyes.
Forcing yourself onto my hands and knees, you glance up, body stiffening to see a shadowed figure looming over you in the glaring moonlight.
"Stay...stay where you are!", you call out wildly, while trying to scrabble back onto your feet.
You wince as a strike of pain courses down your back, but you ignore it so you can stand straight in front of this person.
But the problem is, you can barely make them out in the darkness, but it would seem they are a man, a tall one with broad shoulders and a pale so skin, it reminds you of a dead.
The two of you stand opposite each other, neither making a sound. You were unsure what to do next, having a bad feeling from this stranger as your breath clouds into white plumes as it hits the cold air.
"I think you should come with me to the", the words of a professional detectige were cut short as, out of the darkness, another figure appears and slams into the side of the man you were just looking at.
The two of them crash to one side, rolling behind your car. There is a loud grunt, then the distinctive sound of concrete cracking under force.
You make to step forward, to confront them about it but your path is suddenly blocked by the appearance of three more people, hidden by the night's darkness, so you couldn't identify their faces.
Heavily outnumbered and completely confused, you have no choice now but to reach for your weapon.
Your hand flashes down to my hip where your gun is, but your fingers find only an empty holster.
You frown, confused, then remember you hadn't had the chance to do the strap back up after getting the weapon out earlier. Groaning at the memory, you sway on your feet, glancing about the darkened area and spot the gun laying discarded not far from the flashlight.
With steady steps, you manage to grab it up, spin on your heel, and point it at the group of shadowed figures before me.
The sounds of fighting are still echoing from behind your car. None of the figures seem to pay me much attention, a fact you were thankful for. Instead, they are all focused on the fight continuing out of sight behind the car.
As you suck in a sharp breath, the sudden cold hits your lungs and shocks you from a momentary paralysis of confusion and anxiety.
You take a wide step forward and call, "You're all going to have to come with me!"
The heads of the three figures snap around to face you, and you flinch at the eerily quick motion, especially realizing they were all taller than you are, making you feel like a midget.
"Who the hell is she?", one of them asks.
"I don't know, but I think she is overestimating the size of her back seat," another replies, no small amount of sarcasm in their tone.
The car beside all of you suddenly rocks slightly, the two people behind it finally surfacing. The taller of the two slams the other onto the bumper of the car, and you frown as the metal buckles beneath the heavy impact.
"All right, that's enough!", you yell, surprised at the commanding tone of your voice, considering the situation.
The figure holding the man down glances up at your words, but as soon as they do, their captive cracks his fist against their jaw. The captor stumbles back from the impact. You have to blink rapidly as the man flashes past you in a blur so fast it can't be real.
"Don't let him go!", the figure calls, rubbing their jaw from the hit.
The group tenses, obviously about to run after the speeding figure. But you move forwards and come to stand before them, your gun still raised, "Stay where you are!"
Amazingly, they do, all four of them follows the obey of a small detective and it gives you a slight boost in confidence.
Four? You suddenly realise just how outnumbered you are with your breathing speeding up a little. You can barely see them through the dark, not even able to make out their genders or specific features.
Your eyes then flicker to your car where yoyr radio is. The group of them now stand as a barrier between you and the vehicle. Backup is out of the question.
Still, you have your gun.
As yoy tighten your fingers around the hilt of the weapon, a single finger is hovering over the trigger and you've shot this gun before through your training.
And if the situation calls for it, you have no issue doing so again if they ask for it. Your hold tightens on the grip, and you straighten yourself on the spot.
The tallest of the shadowed figures shuffles a step closer, "Look, whoever you are-"
"Don't come any closer!", you warn in a shout.
"Or what?", another asks from the darkness, the question coming out in a half-taunt.
Because of the mocking sound, you swing your gun around to face the speaker, though you can barely make them out in the gloom.
You frown deeply, "Or I will shoot," you call out, your voice unwavering.
There is a heavy silence, broken only by your heavy breathing and the slight breeze that rattles through the surrounding trees.
"She's bluffing," one of them suddenly says, it sounds like the same one who taunted you, "I say knock her out and let's go"
There's a quick shift of movement from the corner of your eye as one of them steps closer in your spot and you turn to them with a sharp breath before doing it.
The crack of the gun is like lightning as it pierces through the quiet. You grit your teeth as the recoil sends a spasm pulsing up your arm and into your shoulder.
Your body is still battered from your fall earlier, though you manage to keep your balance.
And amazingly, so does the person you shot which is really really strange. It shouldn't have happened.
For a moment you wonder if you hit the person at all, but they suddenly give a small grunt and grab at their right shoulder.
They should have been on the floor after being shot at such close range and you'd always been a great shot at the police academy.
"Shit! She actually shot you!", someone said as there is a peal of laughter from this other person and the figure is the smallest out of them.
It made your eyes wide to hear the amusement in it and not concern for their friend.
"And I'll do it again if you don't come with me now!", you shouted with authoritarian tone, raising the gun again, but your shoulders is slightly tensed. "Now come with me to the station. All of you."
"She sounds serious," the one who was laughing says, amusement still hanging on their words.
"Shut up," the wounded one growls through the darkness.
Their conversation makes you swallow hard, and you try to plant your feet firmer on the ground to steady yourself about this encounter.
But the strangest thing happens, a small fire from the tree near your car makes you swing around, only to find it being blow away by the sudden ghast of the wind before it just turn into a simple breeze.
Upon turning back to face the group again to see if they find it strange as well, but they've already vanished into thin air.
How could they be gone? You didn't even hear their running footsteps.
With a heavy sigh, you stumble towards your car and lean heavily against the side. Adrenaline courses through your body, but you know in the morning you were going to hurt like never before.
Those strangers were certainly made of steel, you think. Who else can survive a gunshot that close?
A dull ache throbbing at your side proves your point, but your gaze turns down to the crumpled dents in the bumper of your car, and you groan at how it looks like it belongs now to the dump side, not the road.
Even with your body beginning to ache, you know it's your duty to look around before leaving, so you push yourself up and limp back towards the area where the fight and the strangers were.
You bend down to retrieve your flashlight and pass the beam over the area. There is nothing of interest. You were just about to give up and head home when the light catches something dark and glistening on the concrete. You shift over to it, crouching down to find it is blood.
It must be from the person you shout, you think as you moved back towards your car and grab a small evidence kit and scoop up some of the blood on a cotton swab, figuring it can't hurt to test it out. You might get lucky and they might be in the system.
With a satisfied nod, you climb inside car, really beginning to feel the aftershock of your earlier fall.
The car engine coughs to life as you stick the key in the ignition. You put it into gear the moment it starts, never having been so eager to get home.
And as your car slowly drives away from the warehouse, if only you look back, you'll see the four shadows reappearing behind.
They just stood there, still as a dead and their eyes that were normal for now is watching you.
One of them being so calculatingly curious.