136-140

Chapter 136: The Grotesque

“It seems our missing person has a peculiar taste for horror videos,” Phil muttered instinctively as he scanned George's YouTube watch history.

Angela’s report had barely finished when Amanda and her team gathered around the computer.

Amanda turned toward George’s girlfriend with a questioning look as the screen displayed a chilling video.

“George loves horror-themed content,” she answered softly, meeting Amanda’s gaze. “He often used clips from horror movies to scare me. I’d scream every time, but he found it amusing. I warned him more than once to stop, and eventually, he did.”

Her words corroborated the authenticity of George’s video history.

“Why would anyone willingly watch such creepy videos?” Phil grumbled, eyeing a particularly unsettling screenshot on the screen.

“Are you scared?” Agent Zhou deadpanned, glancing at Phil.

“Scared? Me? It’s just a video,” Phil retorted, feigning nonchalance as he stared at the paused screen.

“Chief...” Angela called softly from the computer.

Amanda, arms crossed, studied the screen with a frown before looking to Speck for confirmation. When he nodded, she turned back to Angela.

“Play the video.”

Angela took a deep breath, moving the mouse to click the play button.

As the video started, Phil visibly tensed.

“Mary Shaw, Mary Shaw, heed our call…”

The eerie chanting of a séance ritual filled the room.

Standing beside Amanda, Speck’s expression grew serious as the ritual progressed on-screen.

“…The doll, the toy puppet in the candle moved!”

The camera shook as a voice in the video cried out in alarm.

Just as the lens turned toward the fallen puppet, a hand holding a teacup appeared, hitting the spacebar to pause the video abruptly.

“That’s enough,” Speck said quietly, his voice breaking the stunned silence.

“Any further, and it stops being just a scary video,” he added.

Amanda quickly caught on to his meaning.

“Zhou,” she called, gesturing toward the bewildered girlfriend.

Agent Zhou nodded, turning to the woman.

“Ma’am, I have a few more questions about George.”

“I’ve already told you everything I know…” she began.

“Please cooperate,” Zhou interrupted gently but firmly. “If you want George back.”

“…Fine.”

As Zhou led the girlfriend away, Amanda turned back to Speck.

“What did you notice?” she asked bluntly.

“Trouble—and danger,” he replied with a sigh.

“Spirits are the most enigmatic entities in this world. They are harmless and dangerous at the same time. Normally, they don't interfere with the human world, but exceptions happen—like the ritual in this video.”

“What kind of ritual are we talking about?” Phil asked, confused.

“A summoning ritual,” Speck explained.

“It’s an ancient ceremony, originally meant to call back the spirits of loved ones. Over time, it evolved into something darker, summoning entities far beyond the spirits of the departed.”

His gaze lingered on the video's ominous title.

“Ordinarily, such a crude ritual would fail. But somehow—whether by luck or misfortune—the people in this video succeeded.”

“Chief, I found something!” Angela suddenly exclaimed.

She typed “Mary Shaw” into the search bar, and a horror nursery rhyme popped up.

“Beware Mary Shaw’s gaze;

She has no children, only dolls.

If you see her doll, do not scream,

Or she’ll come for your head…”

Phil instinctively stopped reading aloud after the first lines, unsettled by the chilling tone.

“So, you’re saying George and the other missing cases are linked to this successful summoning?” Amanda asked Speck.

“As I said, spirits are both harmless and dangerous,” he replied.

“They exist in a parallel realm, like the two sides of a coin. Normally, they can’t interact with our reality. But exceptions occur—either by accident or intentional summoning. Once a spirit crosses over and finds a foothold, it becomes what we call a ‘grotesque.’”

“Grotesque?” Amanda echoed, the word bringing back memories of a haunting case in Texas.

The wolf girl—was that also a grotesque?

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 137: Confrontation

"I hate investigating missing person cases."

Manhattan, New York City.

Two men in suits stepped out of a car. One of them, a white FBI agent, scanned the rundown surroundings near the apartment building.

His gaze landed on a surveillance camera mounted on a nearby streetlamp. Turning to his colleague, he said, "Don't forget to tell the precinct's surveillance team to pull the footage from this camera for the past few days."

"That’s assuming the camera is still working and hasn’t mysteriously stopped functioning," his colleague replied with a shrug, glancing up at the camera.

"This is New York. The city government has enough funding to keep these cameras operational," the first agent replied.

Each state's regulations and budget allocations vary, and this disparity is reflected in the maintenance of their law enforcement resources.

Hearing his colleague's response, the agent shrugged noncommittally. He glanced down at the file in his hand and quickly identified a nearby apartment building.

"Based on the address provided by the caller, this should be the place..."

---

*George’s Apartment*

Agent Zhou glanced toward the bedroom before shifting his gaze back to George's girlfriend. With a serious expression, he asked, "Ma’am, has George had any conflicts or disputes with anyone in his work or personal life?"

"No, I've already told you. George gets along well with everyone. He likes to joke around, but he never offends anyone because..."

She shook her head and repeated what she had told Amanda earlier.

*Knock, knock!*

She opened her mouth, about to plead with Agent Zhou to find her missing boyfriend, when a sudden knock at the door interrupted her.

At Zhou’s signal, she opened the door.

"Hello, ma’am. We’re FBI agents..."

The white man at the door quickly flashed his badge and introduced himself.

"We have a few questions to ask and hope you can cooperate with our investigation."

"FBI?"

The woman at the door looked puzzled at the introduction.

"I understand your confusion, ma’am. I’ll provide more details during the investigation," the agent explained, assuming her reaction stemmed from surprise that the FBI was involved in the case.

"I’m not confused about that. It’s just... why are there so many FBI agents investigating this missing person case?"

The woman glanced back at the agents inside her apartment, her confusion deepening.

Unbeknownst to her, Amanda was also using an FBI agent’s identity as a cover.

"So many FBI agents?"

The white agent and his partner exchanged glances upon hearing her words. They instinctively reached for the firearms at their waists.

"Ma’am, stay calm. Open the door fully and step back to a safe distance," the agent warned.

Noticing their defensive stances, George’s girlfriend became visibly flustered and complied. She opened the door wider and stepped back, only to see the two agents draw their weapons, aiming them at the people inside.

"Nobody move!" they shouted.

---

Inside the apartment, Agent Zhou realized their cover had been blown as soon as the knocking began.

When the FBI agents drew their guns, the BSI members inside the apartment didn’t hesitate to respond in kind, escalating the situation into a tense standoff.

"Drop your weapons! Get down on the ground and put your hands on your heads!"

---

*Meanwhile, in San Marino*

Watching the tense scene unfold on the fragmented system screen, Allen paused his work and smirked.

Even though he could only observe through the system’s display, he could feel the palpable tension in the air.

This turn of events wasn’t part of the original storyline but was unexpectedly gripping.

Feeling a sudden stop in the gentle strokes on his head, the *Voodoo Doll* tilted its head, its button eyes staring curiously at Allen. Tentatively, it poked his hand with a toothpick-sized trident.

"Mm."

The faint sting on his palm snapped Allen out of his focus. He glanced at the Voodoo Doll, its red button eyes meeting his gaze. He resumed stroking its soft, yarn head while his eyes remained glued to the unfolding standoff on the screen.

---

*Back in Manhattan, at George’s Apartment*

In the bedroom, despite the escalating tension, Spike remained calm. He took a sip of tea, his relaxed demeanor starkly contrasting with the room’s charged atmosphere.

Beside him, Amanda kept her gun trained on the two FBI agents at the door. Her face, however, betrayed her unease.

She had anticipated a potential confrontation between the BSI and the FBI but hadn’t expected it to escalate so quickly.

"Who are you people?"

Standing at the door, the FBI agent scanned the room with a grim expression.

"What are you doing in the missing person’s apartment? How are you connected to the disappearance cases in New York?"

The presence of Amanda’s team in George’s home immediately raised the FBI agents’ suspicions, linking them to the string of disappearances in the city.

"We’re FBI..."

Agent Zhou’s gaze briefly flicked to the guns aimed at them before he responded with a stoic expression.

"Don’t try to deceive us with that nonsense! We’re the real FBI!"

Unsurprisingly, Zhou’s claim only provoked a stronger reaction from the agents, who cut him off before he could finish.

The tension in the room climbed to a breaking point.

Sensing the situation spiraling out of control, Amanda finally spoke up, her gaze briefly flicking to George’s girlfriend, who was cowering behind the door.

"We’re BSI..."

"I’m Amanda, the team leader. This is Agent Zhou, Agent Phil, and Agent Angela..."

"And the guy in the bedroom drinking tea!"

Hearing the introduction, the white FBI agent glanced toward Spike.

"And who’s he?"

"He’s Spike," Amanda replied, glancing at him.

"The BSI consultant."

*Chapter 138: The Case Snatch*

“BSI?!”

Muttering under his breath, he repeated the name of the department Amanda had just mentioned.

A white FBI agent, keeping his gun trained on the people inside the room, turned his head slightly to ask his colleague, “Have you ever heard of this department?”

His colleague frowned, searching his memory, and replied uncertainly, “I’ve heard of it... It seems to be a newly established division, specializing in—”

As he recalled descriptions of BSI within the FBI, the colleague’s gaze settled on Amanda and her team. Suddenly realizing something, he stopped mid-sentence.

“Specializing in what?”

The white FBI agent, noticing the abrupt halt, turned to his colleague with a questioning look, urging him to continue.

Glancing briefly at the girlfriend of the missing person behind the door, the colleague leaned closer to the white agent and whispered something in his ear.

“They’re that department?!”

Hearing the explanation, the white FBI agent looked at Amanda and her team with widened eyes. Clearly, he had heard of BSI before but hadn’t connected the dots until now.

“Alright, then.”

Despite his lingering doubts, the FBI agent, now certain the group in the missing person’s house was not who they initially seemed, relaxed his stance slightly. Lowering his gun just a bit, he said, “I’ll count to three. Everyone, put your weapons down.”

Hearing the proposal, the people inside exchanged glances. After a moment, Amanda nodded, signaling her agreement.

“One, two, three.”

Taking a deep breath, both sides, standing at a tense standoff, simultaneously lowered their weapons.

Holstering his gun, the FBI agent shot a glance at the missing person’s girlfriend hiding behind the door, then addressed Amanda. “Sorry, Chief. It wasn’t my intention to scare you or cause this confrontation. It’s just that you happened to be at the residence of someone we’re investigating, which led to this misunderstanding.”

“No problem. We weren’t scared,” Amanda responded flatly, her expression unreadable.

“Also, this case is ours now.”

Hearing Amanda’s statement, the FBI agent’s face tightened. He looked up at the BSI team with a furrowed brow and then asked Amanda directly, “So why are you here, Chief Amanda?”

“Exactly as Agent Zhou said,” Amanda replied calmly, holding the FBI agent’s gaze. “From now on, the missing persons case will be handled by us at BSI. Sorry, gentlemen.”

“That’s impossible!”

The two FBI agents immediately looked displeased. In the past, it had always been the FBI taking over cases from others—when had it ever been the other way around?

“You have no authority to do this. Missing persons cases fall under the jurisdiction of the FBI.”

“Actually, we do have that authority,” Amanda replied steadily, unbothered by their resistance.

“Based on the findings of our investigation, the circumstances surrounding these disappearances are highly unusual and beyond the scope of what the FBI can handle. So I’d appreciate it if you could cooperate by handing over all materials related to the case for us to take over.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t allow it,” the white FBI agent snapped without hesitation.

The two FBI agents exchanged a look before the white agent continued, “Until we receive direct orders from headquarters, we’re not relinquishing this case. If BSI wants to investigate, then find your own leads or apply for jurisdiction.”

To the FBI agents, who had already invested considerable time and effort in investigating the missing persons case, there was no way they’d simply hand it over. From their perspective, BSI’s move was nothing more than an attempt to “snatch” their case.

No one likes having their work taken away—especially not the FBI.

“Gentlemen, you should understand that this case involves BSI for a reason. The dangers behind it are beyond your imagination,” Amanda said, sensing their firm opposition.

Given the contentious relationship between the FBI and BSI, even if Amanda applied for a transfer of the case, there was a high likelihood it would be denied. Left with no other choice, she tried appealing to reason, explaining the potential dangers of the disappearances.

“That’s just your opinion, Chief Amanda.”

The FBI agents, however, remained skeptical. Even though they were aware that BSI handled supernatural cases nationwide, it was difficult to convince someone who had never directly encountered such forces to give up a case based solely on that premise.

“Rather than your so-called ‘supernatural threats,’ I’m more inclined to believe these disappearances are coincidences—or perhaps the missing individuals joined some obscure religious sect for group activities,” the white FBI agent argued.

As a nation with diverse religious beliefs, America was home to countless faiths, some of which were outright cults. These cults operated either secretly or openly, often promoting their doctrines boldly.

A well-known example in Hollywood was the Church of Scientology, famously endorsed by actor Tom Cruise. After joining Scientology, Cruise not only leveraged its influence to gain resources but was also, to some extent, controlled by the church in both his career and personal life. Recently, media reports claimed that Cruise’s third wife had renounced her Catholic faith under his persuasion and signed a legal contract to join Scientology.

This anecdote serves to highlight the chaotic landscape of religion in America.

Even high-profile celebrities are not immune, and among the numerous crime cases investigated by the FBI, many are tied to cults.

According to FBI statistics, nearly half of crimes investigated stem from racial prejudice or discrimination, while religious crimes make up the second-largest category at roughly 20%.

This context made it easy for the FBI agents to associate the frequent disappearances in New York with religious activities.

Compared to the intangible idea of “supernatural causes,” religious crime seemed far more plausible to them.

*(Chapter End)*

Chapter 139: Racing Against Time

"It seems like the FBI isn’t buying it," Spike remarked as he stepped out of the bedroom, holding a teacup. Watching the two FBI agents leave, he turned to Amanda and added, "Doesn't look like they're giving up anytime soon."

"They’re the FBI," Amanda replied. "Aside from the D.B. Cooper hijacking case, which they dropped due to an extreme lack of leads, the FBI has never abandoned a case. Ever."

As a former FBI agent, Zhou was well-acquainted with the agency's relentless approach to investigations.

"FBI agents might not crack cases with the miraculous efficiency shown in movies, but once they bite down, they never let go. And they definitely don’t hand over cases easily," Zhou noted.

"So, what’s the plan, boss?" Phil asked, sensing trouble. "It's clear those two FBI agents aren’t going to give up investigating the missing persons case anytime soon."

Amanda frowned, glancing at Spike before replying decisively, "If the FBI won’t hand over the case, we have no choice but to act faster than them. We must resolve the danger before their potentially amateur methods make things worse!"

She paused for a moment, then began issuing orders. "Zhou, you and Phil will investigate all the previous missing persons cases. Check if, like George, they also interacted with any content from that YouTube video."

"Angela, contact BSI headquarters immediately. Use any means necessary to take down that video—or better yet, all the videos viewed by the victims. Even a temporary removal will suffice. I don’t want any new victims emerging during our investigation."

Considering the supernatural forces at play in the case, Amanda was determined to err on the side of caution. "Better to shut down a thousand harmless videos than let even one dangerous one slip through," she said firmly.

"As for you, Spike..." Amanda turned to the consultant beside her. Seeing his calm demeanor, she added, "You’re with me. I’ll need your psychic abilities for this."

"Glad to be of service," Spike said with a smile, draining his teacup before meeting Amanda's gaze.

---

While the BSI team ramped up their investigation into the missing persons cases, elsewhere in San Marino, Allen’s system interface displayed a fragmented view of the unfolding events. Through the broken panels, he watched a scene of two FBI agents conversing.

Since they had become part of the story, they were now characters in Allen’s evolving script.

---

"It doesn’t seem like the BSI folks were lying," said the FBI agent driving the car. His mind lingered on Amanda’s reaction at the crime scene, and a flicker of worry crossed his face.

"If—just if—this case really involves supernatural forces, should we even be competing with the BSI for control of the investigation?" he asked hesitantly.

Allen, observing the conversation through the system’s fragmented panels, noted the concern in the agent’s tone. His eyes shifted to the "Story Points" displayed prominently at the top of the interface.

"You’re overthinking things," interrupted the agent in the passenger seat. A white man, his tone dripped with disdain as he continued, "Supernatural case? Please. This whole thing reeks of a half-baked decision by that new president in the White House. You know, those folks never have normal ideas. That so-called BSI agency won’t last long—it’ll crumble, just like their boss eventually will."

"Watch your words," the driver cautioned, his partner’s overt racism forcing him to interject. "Remember, the president was elected by the majority of the American people."

"The majority of Black people, not me," the passenger shot back. "To them, skin color is all that matters. Once they see the 'right' color, they don’t care what damage their decisions might do to this country. That man forged his birth certificate. He’s not even a natural-born citizen! But those people didn’t care—they handed their votes to a Kenyan, a foreigner, and now America is a laughingstock."

"But didn’t all those allegations turn out to be baseless? And didn’t he later release his birth certificate to prove it?"

"Baseless? You really believe that? The evidence came from sources within his own party! And come on, a Black guy, born in Hawaii? Doesn’t that seem a bit...suspicious to you?"

The driver fell silent, unwilling to engage further with his partner’s increasingly prejudiced rant.

---

Back in San Marino, Allen observed the system panel with a neutral expression as the white FBI agent continued his tirade.

"A slightly extreme racist," Allen muttered, showing little surprise at the agent’s behavior.

If anything, he thought to himself, the man’s perspective might make him pleased with the next presidential candidate. Allen considered the irony, briefly imagining the white agent’s satisfaction with the future political climate.

Still, Allen hadn’t tuned into this particular scene just to listen to racist commentary. He had a purpose.

While the agent’s discrimination clashed with the current political environment of racial inclusivity, it was, in its own way, a useful narrative tool. The agent’s stance allowed Allen to conserve precious Story Points, which would otherwise be spent correcting the narrative.

"Since that’s the case, I’ll provide a little nudge," Allen decided, a glint in his eye.

With a subtle shift in thought, he allocated Story Points to manipulate the situation. In the NYPD surveillance room, a few key video files were quietly altered.

---

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 140: Séance*

"The power of a medium comes from the spirit itself, and as I’ve said before, a spirit is both harmless and dangerous…"

At George's house—the missing person's residence.

Spike lit the incense stick in his hand, allowing the curling smoke to envelop the living room. He continued speaking in his steady, deliberate tone to Amanda.

"Until a spirit finds an anchor in the physical world, its influence on reality is extremely limited. Knocking over furniture or extinguishing a lightbulb is the most it can manage."

Amanda’s gaze fell on the lit incense stick as she instinctively sniffed the air.

A faint stench of decay lingered.

"Spirits have no senses. For them, everything is void—no joy, no pain, no awareness. It’s precisely because of this that they crave the physical world so deeply. They envy humans, for everything we possess is something they can only yearn for but never attain."

Noticing the change in Amanda's expression, Spike smiled and explained.

"The incense protects mediums, ensuring their bodies aren’t possessed during a séance. An unoccupied body is an irresistible temptation for any spirit. Though the burning smell is unpleasant—hardly deserving of the name 'incense'—it’s effective. It’s one of the common protective methods used in séances."

"A séance?"

"So, you’re planning to use a séance to locate the missing people?"

Taking her eyes off the incense, Amanda looked at Spike and asked.

"Not just me—us."

Spike shook his head lightly, giving Amanda a surprising answer.

"Us? Are you saying I have to join you in the séance?"

"Exactly."

Spike nodded, placing a photo of George on the coffee table in the living room.

Staring at the photo of George’s bright smile, he continued.

"Every séance is full of uncertainties. Even the most experienced mediums can’t guarantee they’ll achieve their desired results each time."

Discussing the risks of the séance, Spike's demeanor shifted from relaxed to solemn.

"Of course, what we’re about to do isn’t a true séance. Instead, we’ll use the ritual as a medium to connect with George, the missing person. Through his spirit, we’ll observe the events he experienced during his final days."

According to Spike, George and the other missing individuals were likely cursed by some entity in the video.

Clearly, this curse didn’t have the power to kill outright.

If it did, the calls to the NYPD wouldn’t have been limited to just missing person cases.

That said, it didn’t mean the BSI could afford to be careless.

The entity in the video, though initially unable to kill, could grow stronger, expanding the curse’s power. Once the first fatality occurred, it would trigger a catastrophic chain of events.

Amanda and her team had to locate the missing persons and stop this from escalating before it spiraled further out of control.

"Now, hold my hands."

Following Spike’s instructions, Amanda placed her hands in his.

"Remember, no matter what happens, don’t let go of my hands. The séance ritual we’re about to perform isn’t as dangerous as a true séance, but any unexpected event or loss of focus could cause you to become lost in the spirit’s memories, never returning to your own body."

After this grave warning from Spike, Amanda closed her eyes.

Moments later, she heard Spike’s raspy voice reciting incantations, the words laced with a magnetic quality.

Though Amanda couldn’t make out the content, she could vaguely discern that it was Latin.

As Spike’s chanting continued, Amanda felt the air grow colder. Faint whispers brushed against her ears, as if trying to convey something. But when she strained to listen, the whispers faded into incoherence. Smoke coiled around them, thickening and settling near their bodies.

If Amanda opened her eyes now, she would see a distorted face materializing within the smoke. The face twisted and shifted as it circled them, occasionally torn apart by an unseen force only to reform moments later.

Each time the face was ripped apart, the flame on the incense flickered, as though disturbed by an invisible touch.

On the photo between them, George’s face maintained its cheerful smile. But as the incantation continued, his expression seemed to shift—distorting into despair. Yet, upon closer inspection, everything appeared normal, as if the earlier distortion had been an illusion.

The chanting stretched on, and Amanda, her eyes tightly shut, felt as though the ritual was dragging her into an endless void.

"It’s done. You can open your eyes now."

Just as Amanda thought the séance would last forever, Spike’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present.

Although she could feel Spike right in front of her, her hands still clasped in his, his voice sounded distant, almost ethereal. She had to concentrate to discern his words clearly.

Amanda opened her eyes and looked around.

"What is this?!"

The sight before her shocked Amanda.

She could tell she was still in George’s house, but everything was now in black and white. The monochrome world around her carried an air of emptiness and strangeness, far beyond the feeling of a black-and-white film. It was a deeper void, more surreal and unnerving.

Looking down at her hands, Amanda saw that her own body had turned black and white, mirroring the eerie environment.

"This is the world as seen by spirits."

Spike’s voice sounded again, this time steady and close, calming Amanda’s initial unease.

Following Spike’s gaze, Amanda saw a black-and-white figure sitting motionless in the bedroom.

---

(End of Chapter)