His tailbone and mostly his back were pressed against the wooden wall. The coldness of the interior had never been present until now. Hand on his head, massaging his temple, this was the worst aftermath he had. Well Stellan wanted to believe, since the interactions from a good minute earlier never did make any sense.

  But it was too cryptic as an effect of a psychedelic and was too late to dismiss it, since below him the static noise continued its ensemble.

  If it had a monitor, if it could show images, hell if it had a screen it would turn on. Regardless if it was connected to any sort of electricity or not. In front of Stellan, every manner of appliance that he used for entertainment was blaring with a screeching noise.

  It happened the moment he entered the room. After he had delivered the old man to the waiting room where his 'supposed' grandson was resting after searching for him. Why they were there or who they were didn't matter, it would leave a bad taste in his mouth if he left a senile old man to his own. So he made sure that they went on their way before returning.

  But as soon as he arrived at his apartment, his electronics were flashing with a tremor, the screens flickering in chaotic unison.

  All manner of it. From his phone to his television, his gaming computer and even his old laptop that hasn't seen action for quite some time, all booted in unison with one sole intention. And that was to see who the recent winner of the trial was.

  Stellan was overwhelmed. It felt like his sense of privacy was invaded, he couldn't even check his phone even if he wanted to since every line on the screen was either greetings from a forgotten language, or threats that were constructed far too effectively.

  The sudden influx of words rendered his belongings useless. So he crumpled them out together in a disturbed rage, wrenching the wall TV, removing the five-hundred-dollar monitor from his built PC, and the laptop that was flashing on and off was clumsily bundled into one duffel bag that barely fit. And hurriedly placed underneath his basement, where he hoped the static noise would not make its way upward.

  After closing and muffling the noise, he felt a sense of tranquility. Leaving his phone behind on the sofa, which was still not done with its electric tantrum, the screen pulsing with relentless notifications.

  How the hell did they even get my phone?

  He asked inside his thoughts. Even the best hackers, at least the ones he saw on YouTube, weren't capable of hacking a phone without some sort of implanted chip. But his phone proved otherwise, as it continued to vibrate without a pause. Hoping that soon, he'd pick it up.

  Struggling against the temptation of doomscrolling, he slowly reached for his device. But a sudden realization hit him.

  What about my parents? Did they track them down as well?

  My workplace? My work monitor must be acting crazy right now.

  Does that mean they know where I'm living? Should I move and change all my social contacts?

  The gravity of the situation came at a sudden depth. Now he was considering other methods of preservation while his phone continued to blare data, the screen bright enough to illuminate the dim room. He didn't even need to use his passcode, his phone was reduced to a mere contraption. Only capable of showing messages that were forcefully gorged into its interface. He took one swipe downward, then he was met with congratulations from unknown senders. Numbers of locations, even advertising for a weapon distributor that displayed cartoonish girls wielding them. It was all out of sorts. Making him more curious to scroll.

  But before he could muster the confidence for another swipe, a knock stopped him.

  His head turned, staring at the oaken door with vigilance. The wood gave a rhythmic thud that was standard for any kind of knocking. He hesitated, putting down his phone face down on the sofa before standing slowly. Deciding whether or not he should come through.

  Yet with his decision-making questioned, the thud refused to cease. As the sound from the gentle tapping on the wood was done in short intervals. Creating an ominous setting that made Stellan gulp in return.

  A muffled voice from the wooden divide spoke first, astute and firm, like it was a necessary protocol for first encounters. "Excuse me sir. We're from the Association. We have come here to pick you up."

  Association? Have they already caught on?

  Stellan compromised, his guilt settling in.

  "I don’t know of any association! Leave! I have my rights!" he responded with a nervous shout. Scanning the room if there was anything that might aid him to escape. He could hide in the basement, but it wasn't presented to be a good hiding spot at all. Having no choice, he hunkered down.

  Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke, distorted and muffled, but familiar still. "The hell are you making us wait for," the feminine voice that occupied the chords of the senile old man earlier spoke. Hinting a slight irritation from her phrasing. "Get your ass out here, or I'll pull you out myself!"

  "How do I know you’re not one of the people you warned me about?" Stellan nervously questioned. Approaching the door in short half-steps, pressing his ear against the oaken wood as if it would help him hear clearer.

  A cold stillness that was waiting for a response later, and the woman spoke in return.

  "I didn't really think that far…"

  Unconvinced from the sudden persuasion, Stellan hurriedly locked the door. It was already locked but he had to make sure it was. Turning the metal switch before shouting. "GO! I'll call the police if you don't!"

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  He heard a click of a tongue. But there were no follow-up words except footsteps walking away farther from the doorway. Relieved by this he then exhaled. Believing that he would proceed on his own rather than rely on someone who had a pleasant voice.

  He shuffled towards the sofa. His phone continued to vibrate nonstop still. But he decided to just let it be for now. He needed the silence, everything had been noisy up til this point and his day hadn't even ended yet.

  But his isolation was cut short when his door blew past the living room. Severed off its hinges.

  The dust that accumulated in the interior turned into a swirl. Bridging the air stream from the sudden impact, making a small smoke cover that would make a vacuum ask for forgiveness, the particles swirling in chaotic patterns.

  Stellan's forearm instinctively covered his face. Making his eyes squint from the dirty particles that hovered in the air. He coughed from the lack of clean air, before settling in. Before seeing a red-haired woman enter.

  She was no older than him, probably younger. But her demeanor was fiery, like someone who would start a bar fight with just one wrong stare. Her apparel was a sight for sore eyes, one that fit Ford's taste. A slick shining black that tightly embraced her body, seductively stitched by a zipper that traced down the middle. A short line above her chest displayed for the world to see. Showcasing her feminine allure that made Stellan look twice just to be sure.

  Although this welcome trance was shortened when the woman lunged and grabbed him by the collar. Raising him in the air with his head almost hitting the ceiling. "You wimp! Who the fuck do you think you are huh!?"

  Stellan went back to his senses. His eyes uncontrollably glimpsed down, but returned to her face once the circumstances demanded it. Raising both of his hands in yielding, paired with an apprehensive smirk that he hoped would diffuse the situation. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

  "You better be! Making me come all this way for what!?"

  "I have no idea what you're talking about!" Stellan answered, feet still hanging in the air.

  "Ohhh, we got a smartass over here."

  "I honestly don't know! Please let me down!"

  "No! You're coming with me!"

  The one-sided conversation continued. Stellan's feet dangled in the air while the red-haired feminine brute refused to let it end.

  But the theatrics settled down when a deep voice arrived on the doorless doorway.

  "Ms. Ryn…"

  Both of their heads turned. Both with a different question in mind.

  Who the hell is that?

  Shit, when did he arrive?

  Upon hearing this cold calling, the red-haired woman heaved Stellan to his sofa. Forcibly landing him on his ass with a cushiony thud. Before looking for the person who dispersed his captivity.

  At the unseemly corner of the room, a figure imposed. Shifting to a human-like image before parting from the black where he spawned, the shadows seeming to peel away from his form. He held an authoritative stance, an expensive suit that served more purpose for a ball rather than in a corporation. His strides felt otherworldly. But his features accentuated it even more. His hair was the whitest he had ever seen from a person before, long and shiny that ended on his hips. Hiding one side of his face, showing only the half portion where his gray eyes contrasted the dark.

  He came out of the shadows, literally. Which made Stellan confused as to how there was even a shadow in his living room in the first place since it was only just the afternoon. And that his cheap bulb's light wasn't enough to cast such a big size. But understanding logic wasn't his strong suit in the first place. And that whatever scenario he had unwillingly placed himself into had no place for it.

  "What did I tell you about handling our clients with care?"

  Ryn pouted, like a spoiled girl who was caught playing with something she shouldn't have. "He started it…"

  "Is that a reason for you to invade his home?"

  The red-haired woman crossed her arms. Turning her neck towards Stellan's direction before clicking her tongue. "It was faster if I dragged him out."

  Stellan couldn't follow where the conversation headed. But he felt like he shouldn't pry.

  "I apologize for my colleague's actions," the pale man bowed. "She tends to be more… forward with her approach."

  "W-what the fuck man…" Stellan responded with a rebellious stutter. His eyes passing through his empty doorway. "You just blasted your way here! I'm not the only one who lives here!"

  A courteous smile formed from the pale man. Lifting his finger then pointed it at the crumpled wooden door that was shattered to pieces like porcelain. A single weave and the door floated. Reconstructing itself in a puzzle-like manner, reverting it back to its original condition which made Stellan's mouth gape.

  The white-haired man continued whatever he was doing. Pointing his finger to the doorway where the rebuilt door followed. Reinstalling it with mechanical precision, reconnecting the hinges and returning it to its original state. As if it was untouched.

  Stellan blinked twice. No, thrice from the occasion. Turning his neck to the red-haired woman whose figure was ignored this time since both of their eyes met. But she was staring in disgust unlike his curiosity.

  This is far too real to be an illusion isn't it.

  He figured. Before returning his eyes to where the pale man stood. But he wasn't there. This made Stellan jump abruptly to a stand. Searching his room with a frightened face until his eyes saw the white-haired man exit his kitchen, the very same kitchen where the entrance to his basement was located.

  "You have a nice setup going on. I like it," complimented the pale man. Eyes gazing at the various shelves and classical features his motel-turned-apartment had. "You don't have to worry about the noise. Our specialists have that covered."

  Specialists?

  "I don't know what you want, and I don't care. Please leave my house," Stellan requested. His nerves settled a bit, turning relaxed when he felt that his life was not in danger. Well at least he hoped.

  "Did Ms. Ryn not inform you of your current position?"

  Stellan turned his head to the red-haired woman. Still crossing her arms with a rather dismissive look.

  "She said that somebody will pick me up."

  "And?" followed the white-haired man.

  Stellan shrugged in response. Making the red-haired woman react with a fluster. "Y-you! I told you not to pick up the phone! And… and uhh…"

  "Ms. Ryn," the man interrupted. Making Ryn purse her lips in anxiety.

  The white-haired man sighed. A mixture of disappointment and worry for his companion, who tried her best to avoid making eye contact. He then slowly waltzed towards Stellan, who was observing with a tense sweat. Still contemplating what he should do.

  The man then took his place in front of Stellan. Sitting on his sofa, gently pinching the handle of a marbled teacup which was faintly steamed. Stellan could not deduce where it came from.

  After a silent sip from his drink, an ominous voice followed. "Do you know the Homeowner?"