Leave No Trace

A comforting sunrise began to graze the tops of buildings and towers along the city. A stench of last night’s rain mingled with the urine in the alley ways, but only foreigners to the city noticed the smell.

Marcus Flinch muffled the smells with the cigarette he inhaled through his nose as he stood outside the police department. It was about five in the morning, and the slow migration of officers passed him on their way to work Monday morning. Some gave him a nod as they passed by, but none dared to stop and chat.

Mornings at the police department were a sacred time. A quiet time, before the phone calls, reports, and sirens flooded their ears.

“You quit drinking, and now you’re smoking?” said a voice walking out of the police station.

Marcus turned around to see the heavier set man walking up to him. His face was large and square, and his body was a mix of muscle and fat. He wore dress pants and a shirt, followed by a badge at his waste.

“Something to keep me sane, Seargent Mare” replied Marcus.

The Seargent made a clicking nose with his tongue in disapproval. Both of them knew that the Seargent had quit smoking a year ago when his health was getting worse.

“One bad habit to another” he said to the younger detective who was stomping the cigarette under his foot.

“What do you need, Seargent?” he asked his boss, pushing him past this health vendetta.

Seargent Mare grunted at him, and gave a folder to the detective.

Marcus shot his Seargent a glance, “Is this a joke?”

He pulled up to the bank which still had an hour before opening. The bank manager was waiting for him at the door. He was a short man, balding on top, and had a heavier German accent.

“Detective Flinch, I presume you know ze purpose of your visit?” he asked in a professional tone, not hinting out the major embarrassment the man felt regarding the situation. It had to be HIS bank, the skinny German thought.

Marcus smiled, “You were robbed in the middle of the night”, he said.

The bank manager’s cheeks flushed, but tried to remain proudful, “Yes, vell. That’s why you’re here- to figure out how”.

“Figure out WHO” corrected Marcus.

The bank manager didn’t seem to like the answer and instead led the detective to the security room. The stocky German man signaled the security guard to play the clip.

Marcus leaned in closer to the screen to figure out what he was looking at.

The bank manager had a smile on his face when he saw my expression- this was no ordinary robbing, they both knew. Somehow it validated some of the shame the manager felt.

The video showed the bank vault opening and closing. The inside camera showed money that was levitating itself into a bag. The bag then, as if by magic, floated out the vault and through the door.

“Is this a joke?” asked the detective.

“You tell me, detective” the bank manager smirked, “I am not amused by this one bit” he said.

This was going to be an interesting case, thought Marcus. A more focused tone and expression changed the detective. Marcus lifted the radio to his face and called the CSI crew to gather prints on the safe.

“We open in an hour, detective” the bank manager said, unpleased at the request, knowing that it would be his end if his customers found out their money wasn’t safe.

“Give me a copy of this tape, and I’ll have the guys process it back at the station for anything tempered” said Marcus, “show me the vault”.

The stubby man paused in thought.

“The more you wait, the longer this is going to take,” said Marcus.

The bank manager seemed to realize the urgency of it, and nodded his head as he guided the detective to the vault. Last thing he needed is the police hanging around all day at his bank. Worse, to have his clients realize their money is gone.

Detective Flinch was in the middle of directing the crew inside when he got a call from Seargent Mare. His brow furloughed annoyingly as he talked to his boss who was telling him he needed to be cleared out sooner rather than later- orders from the mayor. The bank manager must have called him, he thought.

A woman was standing next to the door when Flinch stepped outside. She wore a black raincoat and running shoes that didn’t match at all. Dark navy-blue glasses rimmed her childish face, and frizzy blond hair waved a bit with the breeze. She looked to be in her mid-thirties.

“What’s going on?” she asked, curiously eying the crowd inside.

“A routine vault inspection,” said Flinch. A long smile stretched across his face- a habit he couldn’t always control when he lied about something.

The woman looked at the smile, “Why lie when you’re so bad at it?” she asked amusingly.

“I still like to practice” he said to her. “Can I help you with something?”.

“Marley Pott” she said, raising her hand to greet him.

Oh, this wasn’t good, he thought. The picture fit together. A reporter.

“You’re a reporter?” he asked, shaking her hand.

“Yes” she said hesitantly, almost frustrated in giving it away so soon.

“Just a vault inspection, Ms. Pott- no story here” he told her as he was beginning to walk towards his car.

“You don’t look like a vault inspector” she called back. The reporter stood on the sidewalk for a moment longer watching the detective ignore her and drive away.

Marley looked back towards the bank when a short-German man walked up to the glass door staring back.

She smiled and nodded her head.

He didn’t do anything, but stare. Clearly, he’s having a bad day.

She nodded politely and kept on walking; Time to get to work, she thought.

The police station swarmed with activity around noon. People were coming in with handcuffs and leaving with curses. Paperwork seemed to fill up everyone’s desk constantly. The city heat was at its full force, and crime seemed to be associated a lot with the high-temperature.

Marcus looked over Ethan Geyser’s shoulder as he worked his magic on the tape he brought back from the bank. Around six different windows were popping up on the young man’s computer as he was constantly typing and clicking stuff into them- shifting lights and clarity of the image. The video was played back nearly two dozen times with every setting.

Finally, Ethan leaned back with a long sigh- frustrated.

“I don’t know what to tell you Detective Flinch” he said, nearly giving up on any more ideas.

“ANYTHING would be fine, Mr. Geyser” he replied. He didn’t know what the kid was doing at all.

“Well, its authentic” he said shyly, almost ashamed to say it.

The detective looked puzzled at the young man.

“Meaning its real- no one has tampered with it”

“Yet we see a bag magically floating out of the safe” said Marcus sarcastically.

“He could be wearing some sort of camouflage” replied Ethan, “I heard some tech blinds the camera to users wearing them”.

Marcus thought about this for a second. He’s seen that stuff in movies, but never thought it would be real. All the money in getting that stuff for a small bank robbing? He didn’t think so. Whomever is working on this stuff has help.

Ethan looked at Detective Flinch in deep thought, “Whoever this guy is, Detective, it’s almost like he’s invisible”.

Peter Salazar sat naked on his black recliner chair in the second story apartment downtown. He took a long sip of scotch as he looked at the money spilling out from the garbage bags. It wasn’t much- the adrenaline made him only grab a few handles before running out- fearing he would get caught even though no one could see him. The night has paid off, he smiles. He noticed a smudge on his arm next to his elbow. The smudge was like a hole through is arm, allowing him to see the arm rest right through it. It was completely transparent. He sighed. He couldn’t figure out if the medication was taking longer or shorter to wear off. It was only the second time he used it, so he was still getting used to it. Salazar looked at the bag of money next to the chair and smiled. All worth it.

He turned the television on and flipped through the channels. A normal crime would’ve been on the news by now, but he knew his wouldn’t. The bank is probably still looking at awe from the footage, he thought.

Next to his drink that was filled with water and salt was a bag dried salted fish that he was now munching on. He found a craving for salt when he used the medication, as if his body needed it to survive. After the first time he turned invisible he put nearly four tablespoons of salt into pickle juice and drank it all. A side-effect from the drug.

A small price to pay, he thought.

There was a knock at the door.

Salazar got up and went to the door, eying the peep-hole to see who it was: The landlord, Ricky Hernandez. He opened it.

“Rent is late, amigo,” said Hernandez. The heavy set, 50 year old, Mexican man was not happy.

Salazar hated when the man called him ‘amigo’. There was a certain tone the Mexican carried when he called him that, almost sarcastically.

“I paid you last week” replied Salazar, angry that the man was now trying to rip him off.

“You paid half of last month’s rent” the man replied holding out the receipt, “You owe me the other half, and on top of that it’s a new month”.

Salazar now clenched his jaw in frustration before realizing the obvious- he had plenty of money now.

He told the fat landlord to wait at the door before closing it, then returning with both the rent for this new month and the remainder of last months.

The landlord stared unbelievably at the tenant, not expecting that he would have the money. He took it without saying anything and counted it at the door before leaving quietly down the hall.

Salazar thought the landlord was probably waiting for shouting match or a reason to call the cops, and seemed disappointed he didn’t do it. He mumbled a swear from under his breath towards the landlord who walked away, shutting the door.

Taking another dried salty fish from the bag got him looking at the money once more.

Why was he paying for this shitty apartment when he could do so much more?

Salazar got up from his recliner and went to an outlet near the television.

He took of the screws to find a small hole behind the cover, then reached inside and took out a small bottle of blue pills.

1.. 2.. 4. .5.

5 pills left- five more times he could turn invisible. Five banks to rob.

This time he would take his time grabbing the money.

The sound of shouting on the streets made him look out the window.

Two street kids were fighting each other. Looking at the apartment window on the other side of the street he noticed a young woman looking at the same commotion.

They caught eyes for a second and she gave him an almost disgusted snarl before shutting her window.

He looked at the pills in his hands and thought of all the opportunities that he could have. Why limit himself to just robbing banks. Being invisible could do a lot of things for him.

Salazar looked back at the window where the young woman was. He smiled.

Next Day

Marcus Flinch woke up the next morning tired and annoyed- he’s been waking up like that ever since he stopped drinking. It’s only been a month, but the constant temptation lingered indefinitely.

He withdrew a cigarette and inhaled its toxic smoke, letting out the steam into the foggy air around him.

His phone buzzed; it was the sergeant.

“Yes sir” he answered after another exhale of smoke. After a moment he hung up the phone and threw down the cigarette.

Another bank has been robbed unknowingly in the middle of the night.

The bank he pulled up to, Marcus realized, was about 7 blocks away from the previous one. He knew that the person who’s doing this had to be local, but it doesn’t help him if he can’t see any clue on the identity. The invisible man, he started to call him.

He went inside and talked to the owner of the bank who then showed the security footage.

Same thing- a floating bag of money going out the door.

“Can I see the outside cams?” asked the detective.

The security personal changed the screen to show the floating back leaving the bank and walking down the street.

The darkness made it hard to spot the bag as it turned down the alleyway a couple blocks down.

No one was there to spot it, then something caught his attention.

“Rewind it, and pause the camera at that scrap of shadow just before the bag leaves the street lights,” said the detective.

They all looked closer to the screen, trying to recognize what the smudge of shadow on the walkway was.

A homeless man. Bingo.

Marcus told the bank manager to send a copy to the station, giving him the e-mail of his tech man- Ethan Geyser. The CSI crew arrived and began to work quickly- getting their duties done before the bank opens per orders of the Sargeant.

He walked out of the bank and headed down towards the alley where the bag was floating towards the night before.

“Excuse me” said the detective as he pulled up towards a homeless man leaning against a building wall.

He didn’t say anything.

“I have a question about a man that walked through here last night, holding a bag” he said, but only met silence. He tried again.

The homeless man made no reply, and sat quietly ignoring the stranger trying to talk to him.

Marcus looked up as a woman walked up to him. He slowly recognized her- the reporter he had briefly met yesterday.

“The vault inspector, we meet again” she said, smiling.

He smiled back, “Ah if it isn’t the reporter”.

“You bugging homeless people now?” she asked.

“Just trying to ask him a question about something” he replied.

The homeless man eyed both of these two people talking like he wasn’t there. He was used to it at this point.

The detective didn’t want to give her any hints. If the world knew that banks were now being robbed in the middle of the night then it would be chaos.

“Good day, Ms. Pott” he said, turning away back towards the bank.

A surprise came on her face. She didn’t seem to expect the detective to remember her name. Then again, he would be a poor detective if he had a bad memory. She turned to the homeless man and handed him a twenty-dollar bill form her purse, “what did the man ask you for?” she said.

The homeless man’s eyes smiled sadistically as he grabbed the money.

“He wanted to know if I saw a man last night holding a bag” he told her.

She handed the man another twenty dollars, “and did you notice any police going in the building this morning?”

He nodded his head, “a crew of people with the letters C.S.I on their back” he said then paused and looked at her, “They’re still inside, Ms. Reporter Lady” he smiled.

It was during this time a shadow stood in the alleyway watching the woman talking to the homeless man. Salazar gritted his teeth, know realizing that the homeless man had been awake last night. The detail that he may expose a floating bag of money wasn’t considered.

“Damn you” he mumbled into the air.

He was going to return for the homeless man tonight, otherwise that detective could come back and find out more information. As for this woman- he didn’t know who she was, but soon enough he watched her questioning the CSI crew that came out of the bank.

A reporter! He needed to deal with her before the homeless guy. He took a pill before he came here to watch the police, so he still had about a few hours before his skin would become visible.

3 more pills remaining.

He needed to pay the professor a visit before the end of the night, but for now the reporter needed to be dealt with.

Marley Pott walked down the street and towards her home. The detective had been lying to her, obviously. They weren’t doing vault inspections, but investigating bank robberies. Two in fact. No wonder he didn’t want a reporter butting into this.

She turned quickly down the alley as she concentrated on how to approach this, but as she did so she heard something clank behind her, like a bottle had been knocked over.

She stood still wondering if someone was there. No one. She kept walking.

Again, she turned back onto the streets more quickly than before out of habit.

Another noise behind her- the sound of something hitting itself against the trash bin in the alley.

Was it an animal?

Little hairs on her back then stood up. No, not an animal, she thought. Someone was following her. Whomever it was, she knew, kept themselves hidden.

She paused near her door that sat right across the street from the alley she came out from.

An eeriness hovered in the air around her, telling he something was there and that something was watching her.

She paused at the door, now wondering if she should call the police. And tell them what? Nothing was behind her, and it was all in her imagination.

Suddenly there was a shift in the shadows. That made it real- something was in the alley way. Marley’s heart was now racing as a fear crept within her.

All of a sudden, the lid of the dumpster starting shaking. Someone was hiding inside, she thought. Before her thoughts drifted to a stalker, a blob of fur with stripes fell out onto the wet streets: A racoon.

A wave of relief filled her up. Thank God, she thought. Her job crossed her with a lot of different unsavory characters. At times she has been followed, but never this close to her house.

She opened the door to her apartment and closed it shut behind her.

The hairs on her neck still stood as if sensing a danger that couldn’t be seen.

The sun was now setting as Marcus Flinch walked down the steps from the station. The second bank footage proved as useless as the first. Before he got onto the sidewalk, a man stopped him.

He looked to be in his late forties, and wore the attire of a professor. The man looked like he was exhausted and hasn’t slept in weeks.

“You’re Detective Flinch?” said the man, “Sargent Mare had told me that you would be leaving around this time” he said.

He found this type of confrontation a little awkward- a stranger waiting for him. It seemed a little too personal.

The man seemed to have caught onto his bizarre behavior, “I’m sorry for this unexpected barging, but I need to talk to you about something important”.

“And what would that be” replied Marcus, lifting his eyebrow quickly.

The man leaned in and whispered something that made Marcus Flinch suddenly raise his heartbeat.

“How would you know about the ‘invisible man’” replied Flinch, now eagerly interested. Before the man replied, the detective realized they were still standing on the front steps of the station as police officers walked next to them.

He guided the man to his office.

The stranger was Timothy Hawks, a bio-engineering professor at the local University. He explained to Flinch about his most recent research: Genetic Mutation that made cells transparent… In other words: Invisible.

“Do you know about the banks?” asked the detective, wondering if somehow the “invisible bank robber” news got out.

The professor looked at him with a blank stare then shook his head, “Banks?” he asked.

Marcus looked at the man carefully, eying any sort of reaction or facial expression that would give him away. None.

“Someone has been robbing banks, someone ‘invisible’” said Flinch.

The professor shot out of his seat, “It has to be him!”.

The detective didn’t seem phased at all at the remark, “I’m still having trouble believing there is such a thing, Professor” he said.

The man didn’t realize what he was saying might be hard to believe. “Please come to my office at the university tomorrow morning, detective. I’ll be there around 8 in the morning”.

“We can’t go now?” asked the detective.

“The offices are closed, and I don’t have authority to open it” he replied.

The Sargent walked by his office and glared inside motioning at his watch. Marcus also knew he couldn’t get a warrant for such a search.

He stood up and shook the man’s hand, “I’ll be there when you arrive, Professor”.

The University was a graveyard in the morning other than the occasional zombie that would drift by with their backpacks and sobering sadness. The Professor, Timothy Hawks, came up to the front where Marcus was standing. The man looked to be rejuvenated just a little, and didn’t smile as he saw the detective waiting for him. His pace was fast and awkward, leading the detective down the halls towards his office where he pulled out his keys and unlocked it.

“My God” he gasped as he walked inside.

Marcus noticed it was less like an office and more like a trashed lubritorium. Vials and jars were stacked on the tables and some knocked onto the floor, and papers were nearly piled up all around the room.

“I’m assuming it doesn’t always look like this?” said Marcus as he followed the professor around the mess.

Professor Hawks was nearly running to a wall safe that was wide-open.

“He found the wall safe!” yelled the man.

Before the detective could say anything, Professor Hawks was pushing his desk out of the way and pulled out the carpet underneath it.

Marcus bent down next to the man who now took out a key that hung on a necklace he was wearing and put it into a slot in the floor. The man then took out a vial with 3 blue pills inside.

“Probably would’ve been smarter to hide everything in this spot, rather than the wall safe” said the detective who was eying the pills.

Professor Hawks made no reply, but was cursing himself at his stupidity.

“Well how do I know this actually works?” said Marcus as he looked at the blue pills. Part of him still thought this guy was out of his mind.

“Look over at that cage, detective” he said.

Marcus walked over to an empty see-through reptile cage next to the window.

“It’s empty” he said.

“It’s not empty, there is a hamster inside,” said the professor.

Marcus looked at the container again, “It must’ve escaped, there’s nothing here”.

As he finished the professor went over and reached into the cage and grabbed something. To Marcus it looked like a joke- the professor imitating his hand as if he was holding something.

“Hold out your hand” he said as he motioned his curled fingers over.

Marcus’s patients were now running out as he thought this whole thing was just plain stupid. Just as he was about to speak, his palm felt a form touch it. His mind shot into a panic and he thought this was some kind of trick. Marcus curled his fingers as he felt four tiny little feet touch his hand.

“My god” was all the man said as he stared at the Professor, not believing it.

The professor didn’t smile at the detective’s realization, “now you see, detective, it is real”.

He looked at the blue pills and then around the room again, “Tell me everything about this stuff”.

As the morning passed, the professor explained his discovery and research. Apparently, it only lasted a little over three hours. When Marcus asked about the hamster, the professor told him that the hamster has been over-dosing- making each handful of pills last longer than the list. In doing this, the side effects would be considerably worse. The side effects seemed to resemble addiction, and the bodies cravings to sodium to replenish the cells vigor. Pounds of sodium, from what the Professor had said- there was a deadly craving for it. The detective had asked him what happens if the user doesn’t get any salt, and the professor simply replied that the man would start to exhibit signs of dehydration, withdrawals and delusions, and unlimitedly- insanity and death.

Marcu’s flinch took the bottles into his pocket as he walked out of the university hallway. He needed to get this stuff back to the crew back at the station to be analyzed further. The professor would come by later that day for an official statement. On his way out he noticed a familiar face waiting for him in the parking lot- Marley Potts.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked her.

“I headed to the police station first, and your Sargent told me you were here” she replied, “I told him it was urgent I see you”.

“If its urgent you should have talked to the police there” he replied as he eyed everything in the parking lot. After this discovery of invisibility, part of him feared that this man was everywhere. Nowhere seemed safe. The invisible man could be right next to him with a knife against his throat and he wouldn’t know.

“It’s about an invisible man” she said.

His eyes suddenly focused intently onto her. How did she know about that?

She saw the startle in the detectives’ eyes, “worse, I met him in my apartment last night”.

Marcus pulled up behind Marley’s vehicle on the street, arriving at her apartment.

He walked in the front doors and followed her upstairs to find a room with a broken lamp and several things knocked over.

“Tell me again what happened, now that we’re here” he said.

She gave out a long sigh as the detective staired at her, knowing she was still shaken up.

“I was in bed reading a book” she began, “I had walked home last evening after meeting you when I felt something following me. I thought it was silly at first when I noticed a racoon in the alleyway” she said pointing out her window towards the dumpster on the other side. As she talked, Marcus looked around the room for any clues.

She continued, “I turned off the lights and after about ten minutes I heard something in the darkness of the room- a light moaning sound”.

Marcus swallowed hard and tried to focus on something else as he knew where this was going.

She blushed and looked the other way, out towards the window as he continued with the embarrassing and fearful account. “I didn’t know what it was at first, but the moaning was getting louder as if someone was pleasuring themselves. I immediately turned on the lights when something jumped on top of me. I couldn’t see anything- but something was on top of me, holding me down. I panicked when I couldn’t see anything. It was almost like a demon you see in those movies attacking a victim. Some ghost...”.

Marcus could see her begin to shake with fear and he walked over to her. He made sure she saw his hand reach over to her shoulder, grabbing it for comfort- trying not to startle her.

“Its ok, Marley. We’re going to catch this guy. No one’s going to hurt you,” He said to her, “If you can, let me know what happened next”.

She took a moment to relax herself and then continued, “I ended up throwing the lamp on the table towards the invisible man and felt the force of his body fall sideways off the bed. I rant to the light and turned it on, seeing the blankets on the floor begin to twist and curl. Something was on top of them beginning to move around. I began to run downstairs when I heard footsteps rushing after me”

She led Marcus down the stairs as she told her story, and they turned into the kitchen.

“I entered the kitchen and felt a hand grab my hair, pulling me backwards onto the floor. The man was dragging me. I screamed and shouted for help, hoping a neighbor would hear. Luckily one of the neighbors did, and I saw him run over and open the front door just as I was being dragged in front of it. It must’ve knocked the invisible man down and I could see the neighbor help me up asking me what was wrong. Something pushed the neighbor forward and I could see the bushes outside the apartment being trampled over.”

Tears were swelling her eyes as she finished telling Marcus what had happened.

He tried to comfort her and then called the CSI crew to come in and investigate for any prints.

It didn’t take them long.

The thorned bushes in front of her house had dried blood on them- no doubt scratching the invisible man as he escaped through them. It was only a small amount and might prove to be useless. Then one of the crew members came up to Marcus and whispered something in his ear.

“This is going to be a difficult question to ask, but necessary” said Marcus, starring at Marley who was being questioned by a female officer. She nodded.

“Have you slept with anyone in the last few days up in your bedroom?” he asked her.

She shook her head, “Sad to say it, but that part of my life is pretty dry for the last several years” she nervously joked, “Why?”

He looked at her, “Looked like our invisible man did please himself, and left some of his DNA around the bed”.

Marley’s face twisted in disgust then looked at him as if enlightened, “Does that mean...”.

Marcus nodded and smiled, “Yes. That means we can finally find out who our invisible man actually is”.

Salazar felt like he was about to die of thirst. He had bought several 5-pound sacks of salt and already drained two of them so far. He felt a small burning on his legs as he returned home to find the small cuts on them made from the rose bushes outside that woman’s apartment.

He gritted his teeth in rage and threw a cup towards the corner of the room, breaking it.

He picked up a handful of salt and poured it into his mouth, savoring its saltiness.

Tonight, he thought, he’d finish her. No doubt about it.

He looked at his skin and was almost sickened by it. He felt like his body was trapped under this barrier. It was driving him mad.

Take another pill…He needed it.

He pulled out a vial of blue pills- ones he had stollen from the professor’s safe the day before, right after he left his office.

Before he could take one out, a knock came to the door.

He immediately grabbed the clothes laying across the floor and put them on.

The knock kept getting louder until a voice called out from the other side, “Peter Salazar, please open up. This is the police”.

Salazar’s eyes shot wide open. How did this happen?! A panic was raging through him. He reached into his pocket for the vial and began to take a pill out of it when the door suddenly broke open.

The police officers rushed inside the apartment and saw the man begin to motion something into his mouth.

“Get him, now!” yelled Marcus as he ran behind the officers who charged Salazar. He knew they needed to knock the man down before he took another pill.

Salazar felt the weight of several police officers pound him onto the floor and the pain of glass shards pierced his thigh as the vial was broken inside his pants.

He screamed in a rage and panic, trying to fight the men off of him. They twisted his body onto his belly and Salazar felt the cold steel of handcuffs on his wrists.

Marcus checked Salazar’s pockets and felt the broken glass. He put his hands inside and felt some of the pills had already broken. He grabbed the ones the remained out of the man’s pocket.

“Take him to the station, and process everything in this apartment” said Flinch as he motioned everyone to get moving.

The Sargent had to be shown what these pills were capable of since he first didn’t believe in it. Marcus didn’t blame him. The heavy man looked stunned as he watched the pills take effect on a dog Professor Hawks had brought in. A selective crew involving me, the sergeant, the judge, a court representative, and a couple officials watched the invisibility take into effect- the dog began to vanish.

Marcus explained to them that Peter Salazar was a janitor at the campus who realized the Professor had been onto a camouflage gene that made things invisible- he saw the results on the hamster in the professor’s office. After robbing him, he began to rob banks, and then it seemed to escalate; He had given these officials the testimony of Ms. Pots.

“What has the world come to” said the Sargent as he stared at Peter Salazar through the one-way window.

Marcus didn’t catch his meaning at first, but then knew what the sergeant had meant. Invisibility was possible. It was hard for them to grasp their heads around it. Who knew what other things in the world there were. What other mystifying possibilities that existed.

Peter Salazar was put into a confined, solitary, prison called Putriz Island. It resembled Alcatraz from San Francisco, and in a sense, it was the exact same thing. They needed him in a confined space to see what other side-effects this revolutionary invisibility medicine was going to have. The remaining pills Marcus had gathered were sent to higher authorities. Who knows what they were doing with them. Frankly, he didn’t want to think about it.

Salazar sat in his prison silently, his mind focused on the skin that covered his body. It drove him mad. He stared at his hand for hours, and days, until he saw something that made him smile.

Detective Marcus Flinch stood at the steps of the police station as the morning sun shed away the rain that had once again raided the city for several days. He inhaled the smoke of his cigarette until a woman walked past him that reminded him of Ms. Marley Pots. It had been several months since Salazar was locked away. Marcus did check up on the reporter a couple times during those months, and they even went out for dinner. Ultimately, they both knew, the relationship wasn’t going to work- a detective and a reporter. Conflict was bound to arise.

Oh well, he thought.

He inhaled another toxic fume into his lungs.

Sargent Mare appeared from the doorway and looked towards Flinch. He waved a file to the detective, “A murder, detective” he said, walking up to him.

“Ok” replied Marcus, looking awkwardly at the sergeant’s unusual smile.

Detective Marcus Flinch didn’t smile, but opened the case file to see a body with two bite marks on the neck.

He looked back at the Sargent, “Is this a joke?”.