While walking, Heathcliff pondered about his situation. His steps were unsteady, his body weak and resisting against his commands.
He didn't pay it much mind, having comr to terms with his current state.
It sucked, but he wasn't gonna whine about it any more than necessary.
'Was I always this calm about stuff?'
He was not.
Heathcliff was not delusional enough to think he felt nothing, all humans are suspectible to their emotions and he is no different. However, his was a puzzling case.
Normally he should have been cursing whatever hand tossed him into this body with utmost linguistic prowess, making sure every god there was heard his asinine words.
But he didn't...the whole time, he hasn't lost his composure...even through the pain and cold, an unnatural calmness settled over him.
After sorting his thoughts, Heathcliff came to a single conclusion.
He had been somehow transmigrated into some type of medieval dungeon, into a weak, starved body that could barely hold it's own weight, and he was also completely unaware of how this happened.
There appeared to be gaps in his memory too, after sifting through the events before, the last thing he remembered was taking a call from his boss to go investigate a murder case and...that's it.
He was here.
'I'd like to curse at that, but my throat hurts.'
He spoke, finally coming to the end of the unnecesarily long corridor, entering what appeared to be a...dilapidated prison ward?
The cells, thankfully, were empty and still, utterly lacking any sign of life.
'...Something's off.'
Heathcliff had a keen sense of danger, an almost Instinctual awareness of all that sought to harm him...
'Someone...no, something is watching me.'
Heathcliff came to that conclusion after noticing claw marks and cracks on the walls, not resembling any animals he knew off. The constant, unnerving feeling of being watched helped solidify his presumption.
A predator, biding it's time, observing.
'...Give me a break, what are you even gonna eat? My skin and bones?'
Ofcourse, Heathcliff didn't say that aloud, both due to the meaninglessness of the act, and the fact talking spent energy that he didn't have.
Instead, he beganslowly walking towards what appeared to be the exit, where he suspected the monster was waiting...it was likely hanging somewhere like a wall or ceiling...judging by the clawmarks on the pillars and walls...it climbs, or worse, flies.
'It's not attacking?'
Something told Heathcliff that running away was a bad idea, so he approached instead.
If it's a predator in any way similar to an animals, running will only trigger it's hunting instincts...on the other hand, fearless approach might dissuade it..
Or atleast it would have, if Heathcliff wasn't swaying like a leaf in the wind with every step.
'...Yeah, no...dumb idea.'
Heathcliff didn't believe the creature was wary, not even for a second.
Yet, he kept walking, swaying slowly, until he reached the door and walked through, locking it behind him.
He was still for a second as he heard a thud behind the door, along with a low growl anf shuffling.
'Yeah, definitely some type of monster...'
Heathcliff mused, slighrly unsure why the creature didn't actuvely pursue him.
Could it be it didn't really want to waste effort on hunting somrthing like him, eho was skin and bones with no meat?
That foolish thought vanished the second he heard chittering behind him...as he held himself against the locked door and looked over his shoulder.
Glowing eyes, unnervingly hollow, staring at him.
They weren't big, but there were many of them, and they were steadily approaching...and dashed right at him when they got close enough.
Hundreds of rats, they were, gruesomely deformed, disgusting rats, they ran towards him and swarmed like wasps...biting his scrawny ankles and bringing him down.
Searing pain assaulted his senses as the rats began tearing him apart with their blunt teeth.
He tried to resist, unable to even scream due to his body's condition, only to end up flailing around like a pool noodle as he was gorged upon.
They began with his skin, working their way from his extremities towards his organs.
It hurt, it hurt so bad that he nearly fainted, and yet he didn't.
He so desperately wished he had, but he couldn't.
Each bite and nibble was felt by him, even as he became half the man he once was, he still felt everything, he still wasn't unconscious or dead...
And he was...calm.
Unnervingly so.
'...This...sucks.'
And just like that, it was over.
Heathcliff had died.
He woke up again, this time, however, he wasn't bound nor was he being devoured...
Heathcliff slowly got up, raising his hand to rub his temple, only to pause as he looked at his appendage.
Not only was it unharmed and...there...it was pitch black in pigmentation...almost hazy, like black mist.
He looked around, noticing that the toom appeared much brighter than it used to be, and saw dozens of rats around him, gorging on what appeared to be human remains.
His remains.
A faint feeling of disgust rose up in him, but strangely, he didn't feel the urge to barf...simply raising himself, noticing how the rats seemed to ignore him.
"...Bunch of ugly bastards."
He spoke aloud, and then paused. His voice didn't sound normal, still slightly resembling his own, but layered and echoing. He looked at his hands again, at the faint edges that seemed to ripple and shift with every movement...like smoke.
"...I'm numb to impossible shit at this point."
Heathcliff murmured, walking towards the door and attempting to reach for the handle, only for his hand to pass through.
He paused, pulling his hand back, and then through the door again a few times...before walking through it.
On the other side, he saw a ginormous mutated rat-man, atleast 9 feet tall. The creature looked at him briefly, before ignoring him and continuing what it was doing...which was nothing.
'Those things were it's kids, it didn't attack me because I practically fed myself to them...not being a threat.'
Heathcliff looked at it for a few moments, realizing that the creature could have busted that door down instantly, and felt a bit of bitterness rise up in his heart.
"...Consarnit."
He let our beofre shaking his head and finding a nearby mirror to observe himself...well, by mirror he meant glass.
Unfortunately, he couldn't see himself in tbe reflection.
'Am I...a ghost?'
Heathcliff paused, before continuing what he was doing before, walking.
He walked around the entire ward, finding what appeared to be yet another long corridor, and stepping forward.
He had just died, that Heathcliff was sure off. He felt the pain, he saw his own devoured corpse. He saw the very things that expedited his end.
Now, he was sometype of specter, fully black and lacking all the handsomeness of his previous two bodies.
Though, his second one wasn't all that handsome, really.
'Maybe if he fixed that haircut and went to the gym more...'
His thoughts wandered again, before he shook his head and began thinking about hiw to leave, observing his surrunding for any chance of a map.
Thankfully, thus body seemed to give his body night vision, he saw everything around him clearly now.
To his dissapointmwnt, he found no map, but he did find a crossroad....to the left, or to the right.
Usually, going left on the crossroads gets people killed.
But Heathcliff already died once, so he went left anyway.
.
.
.
After a completely innapropiate length of time, the corridor finslly ended and he found himself outside.
It was night out, with the full moon shining down on the decaying grass, the tombstones shadowed by it.
He walked on the soft earth, his body jow lighter and therefore he walked faster...pausing before one of the graves..
It read:
"In loving memory of
Heathcliff Damian Matthews
A loving son, a proud man, a great detective.
Congratulations, you are free."
Heathcliff was silent for a minute, looking down at the tombstone with a pensive stare, his 'eyes' fixed on the letters eith unnerbing focus.
"...What the hell is this?"
Heathcliff murmured, the calmness he had throughout the whole time now finally dissipated, leaving only shock.
'I remember now.'
Backthen, in that apartment, he had read out a poem created using the fingers of the victims.
"The souls begs for release, it tears the cage, it embraces freedom."
Heathcliff murmured under his breath, his voice quiet aidst the utterly silent graveyard.
"Congratulations, you are free."
His eyes focused intensely on those words, burning every letter into his memory, not letting himself remove his sight for even a second.
"...I see now."
Heathcliff murmured, pausing as he raised his hand up to his shadowy neck, scratching the itch on the equivalent of his Adam's Apple.
"The soul is trapped, chained in a cage, embraced by chains."
Heathcliff murmured, his voice shaking slightly as a 'smile' cut through the shadows of his face.
Suddenly, his perspective shifted, the letters on the tombstone now spelled a completely different sentence.
"You have seen through the Illusion of Choice, the Hand of Decision applauds you."
"You have dismantled the Rule of Incarceration, additional points added."
"You discovered your grave, additional points added."
"You did not hesitate, additional points added."
"Glorious! You have passed the screening, welcome to your new job, Investigator Asdet."