The “stew” of Sitch was already at the end of its second hour when Marcus finally gave up on trying to find the source of the eeriness from his police cam footage. Throughout the rewatches, he noticed a few strange details that he would have missed otherwise: first was that the sky seemed to have some red spots in the footage, and judging from the fact that they shifted in position, it did not seem like an issue with the camera itself; the second was that while he was pursuing Sitch, one of the other kidnappers seemed to have appeared for a few frames, which meant that even though they split up during their escape, all of them were still heading toward the same general direction, which should be close to the spot where Sitch was apprehended; and finally, a few of the mob who seemed to be most aggressive in inciting others to attack him seemed to have actually backed off when he was actually being attacked, which posed a rather unpleasant theory for the reason behind this whole incident.

Marcus took another peek at the one-sided window of the interrogation room - Sitch seemed to be stressed and anxious, just like he wanted him to be. He kept trying to draw something on the desk to which he was chained with his fingers, but he was not able to do very much.

Just this moment, something strange caught Marcus’ attention, a man wearing a postal worker’s uniform, carrying an almost empty mail bag was strolling around in the precinct near the entrance to the aisle near the interrogation room. This was not the usual postman who delivered mails to this precinct.

Marcus stood up, and with his empty coffee mug in his left hand, and his right hand on his waist, ready to pull his gun from his holster. His Qi started coursing through his meridians, and he was ready to strike should this “postman” try anything.

“Can I help you?” Stopping at a short distance, just enough for him to deliver a debilitating blow should he need to, Marcus asked.

“Oh! Oh - ” This “postman” turned back and looked startled, and he had to push his thick frame glasses up a bit so that he could see Marcus clearly. But then he raised his right hand, with a big pile of envelopes of different colors and sizes clutched in his fingers: “I - I don’t know where to put these, you don’t have a mailbox, and you don’t have a reception’s desk - ”

“Yeah, the desk was moved a few days ago, we don’t have a reception’s desk right now.” Marcus shrugged and put his coffee mug on a table beside him: “If you’d like, you can just hand them to me. I’ll deliver them.”

“Oh! Thank you! That’d be great!” The postman immediately shoved the pile of envelopes into Marcus’ hand: “Sorry about that, this is my first day - I’m still getting used to everything…”

“Where’s Old Tom?” Marcus nodded as he took the envelopes, then asked.

“He’s retired.” The postman said, his voice showed a genuine tone of relief: “Health reasons, so he just went to stay with his kids.”

“I see.” Marcus nodded: “Thank you for dropping by.”

“Alright, thanks!” The man adjusted his mail bag and gave Marcus a quick goodbye salute: “I guess I’ll see you then, officer!”

Marcus took another look around to make sure that this postman did not take anything away or left anything unwanted behind. Then, as he was about to put the envelopes on a shelf in the common area, he heard the sound of something falling and crashing from Sitch’s interrogation room. The lights seemed to have flickered a few times, and there were some shadows flashing on the window.

“Bang!” Just as he went to check on the room, another loud crashing sound erupted, and right after that, came the weeping and whimpering of Sitch.

Without a moment of hesitation, Marcus rushed in, knocking a chair to the side, almost sending it flying into the wall.

“Ahhhh! Ahhh! Get off me! Get off me!” Sitch cried and screamed as he tried to pull away from the desk, for some reason, dark veins were slowly crawling from his palms up his forearms, towards his elbow positions. “Help! Help me! Please!”

“What the - ” Marcus immediately took out the keys to the chains, and tried to unchain Sitch from the desk. The moment he came close to the desk, he felt a sudden, almost otherworldly chilling sensation radiating from his hands and forearms through his entire body. Once again, a faint, distant, and somehow grudgeful high pitched scream exploded and echoed in his ears, yet as hard as he looked, there was nothing to be seen.

“Get it off me! Get it off!” The chains rattled and the table bounced slightly on the floor as Sitch struggled and tried to pull himself away from the desk. The skin on his wrist became red and even a bit torn and fractured from both his violent and reckless movements. And maybe even from the crawling dark veins and the paleness that came along with whatever’s ailing Sitch as well.

“Clunk” the moment the chains were off, Sitch’s body recoiled and his back banged against the wall behind him. The origins of the dark veins turned out to be two holes just gushing out dark red and somewhat pungent blood. “Medic! Medic!” Marcus immediately yelled.

“It’s - it’s gone! It’s gone!” Sitch looked around the room, then his sight fixated on Marcus: “You? You - how did you - ”

“How did I what?” Marcus asked with a frown. This was the second time already, only this time he was much closer to the actual strange, almost paranormal incident.

“Medic’s out! I’m here!” Kevin rushed into the room carrying an emergency medical pack.

Kevin was the only forensic technician in the 17th Precinct, and the only one with the expertise to do forensics-related work. But other than that, he was also proficient in many other things, and emergency medical treatment happened to be one of them.

In poison city, the funding of police departments was distributed in a trickle down pattern, where the “peaks” were the northern center of the Northern District, and the central part of the South-Western District, and the further away a precinct was from those two peaks, the less funding and resources it would get. And because the 17th Precinct was located on the border between the South-Eastern and the South-Western District, its funding was for the most part quite lacking, though it was still better off than many others.

“What happened?” After bandaging Sitch’s hands up, Kevin asked Marcus: “How - ”

“Nothing happened, it has nothing to do with the detective, and nothing to do with other officers.” Sitch immediately said, while looking Marcus up and down: “You know, Detective … Detective Cai, right? I am - I am ready to talk now.”

“Oh - and this is with the admission that you’re not under any kind of duress - ”

“Yes - I am willing to talk now.” Sitch shook his head, his eyes shaking and flickering, the strange sense of burden and determination of his silence disappeared, as if something he once believed in deeply was just disproven and shattered, causing him to lose his faith. “I will talk - under one condition.”

“Name it.” Marcus stood up.

“I want you to stay with me, while I go back to our place of gathering.” Sitch covered his face with his hands wrapped in bandages and his eyes closed in pain. When he put his hands down, his facial emotions became stern and somewhat revengeful: “I want to go, tonight. And I will tell you everything you want to know on the way. I will show you.”