CedRic Lthues. Claret City

Chapter 1

The night was gone and rays of light hit me, but it wasn't the sun. It was a...flashlight? I suddenly heard voices, new voices. Very vague and garbled sounds of concern were all I heard. My eyesight was wrecked and my ears felt like they were jammed with water. A few seconds passed and everything felt better.
"Are you okay?" A girl asked as she held a flashlight to my eyes. All I could muster was a moan of pain.
"He's conscious," another girl screamed to what seemed like more people that were out of my sight. My hunch was right, more people of different colors came towards my body.
I tried to look at them to observe what was happening, so that I could investigate soon, but my neck couldn't move. My entire body was in pain—head to toe—and all I could see was the moon glowing in the night sky and a few heads. They carried me to, what I could see at least, an ambulance. The van drove to who knows where and applied a mask to my face, anaesthesia I presumed. The piercing yet enchanting aroma of the dozing substance entered my nose and into my body. The last thing I saw was the paramedic and the white roof of the ambulance before I began to dream. When I opened my eyes, words weren't enough to describe my relief. I was in a hospital room in a white robe. The soft breeze of the AC made me happy. I looked around myself to ensure the safety of my body, but alas, I saw that I wasn't in a good condition. My left arm was in a cast, as well as both of my legs that were hanging from the contraption to the sides of my bed. There was also a mirror in front of my bed that let me see the situation I was in. Calling my condition devastating was an understatement bigger than the iceberg that sank the Titanic. From a glance, I look like a sick mummy. Even though at that moment my body felt a little better than before, that was something I couldn't say upon laying my eyes on my reflection.
Moments later, while my gaze was still affixed to the mirror, a few people came into my room. Just by looking at their appearances and clothing, I could tell their occupation and personality. Three people arrived, two girls and a man. One of the two girls had a white coat, making the obviousness of her occupation more painful than my body—she was my doctor. Judging by her warm eyes and greenish glasses, I could tell that she was pretty affable, the perfect type of person to be a doctor. The man who entered beside my doctor was in blue clothing, it was the nurse, of course. The scrubs and mask made it obvious, plus there was also the pack of syringes that he carried. The last one had a mixture of brown and black hair, a brunette, and her skin was a beautiful light brown. She had black shades, which made me think she was a strict person, but when I examined her clothing, something was awry. I didn't recognize the style and color of what she was wearing. She was in a long black coat above a grey shirt, the design of which twisted my mind—it was completely unknown to me. I worked with the police all my life, they knew me on a daily basis, so I was quite confident in myself that I've never seen that before. The collar looked like it came from a tuxedo and on both sides of the chest were pockets, the left one had a badge that was also an enigma to me. It was the shape of a heater shield with two engrailed tops, and in the center was a circle that had a golden diamond embedded in its center. As a whole, the badge looked like something you'd find at an old antique shop down the street for at least five dollars. Conclusion: it was more fake than plastic surgery.
"You're a lucky man," the female doctor said, "I'm doctor Vsharv and this is my assistant, Nurse Kord, and we'll be taking care of you." My observations were confirmed.
"I-I'm sorry...Doctor Vsharv?" I asked as politely as I could.
"Yes, is there something wrong?"
"And Nurse Kord?" I looked at the man beside her.
"Yes," he replied sternly.
I couldn't help it anymore and let out a chuckle before inquiring, "Are those your real names?" I giggled with glee.
"Yes," she answered in a serious tone, "Yes it is."
I laughed as silently as I could, which was not that quiet, and then I noticed that I was the only one laughing.
"Wait, you're serious?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"O-oh," I replied with pure shock. I didn't know what kind of person would name their kid like that. The doctor brushed off the obvious irritation and went ahead explaining my situation. A concussion, spinal cord injuries, and a lot of broken bones that included the talus, the navicular bone, the phalanges of toes, the metatarsus, half of my ribs, and lastly my arms. In conclusion, opening my eyes was nothing short of a miracle. She walked me through the procedures that would be done to me for the next few weeks. And it would be a lot, a whole lot! The nurse took a bit of my blood for observation and it was only then that I noticed that the woman with the weird uniform was staring at me through her dark glasses. I couldn't see her eyes, obviously, but the aura hovering around her felt like she was a lion on the prowl. As soon as the nurse finished, he and the doctor left the room, leaving me alone with the strange woman. For a few solid minutes, the woman and I were locked in a deadly stare-off. But suddenly, she took off her sunglasses and spoke to me.
"Good thing they're gone," she said in her deep tone. The one thing I immediately noticed with this woman was her beautiful jade green eyes. It was like a black cat's.
"I need to speak with you," she continued.
Those words were like the numerous stray dogs in the slums—you hear and see them a lot. The six words were common to me and they kicked my instincts into work mode.
"What is it?" I asked more sternly than I should. She walked towards me and sat beside me.
"Who are you?" She inquired.
"What?" I replied confusingly.
I was sure that everyone in my city knew my name. But then the realization that I've talked to all the people in my city at least once and I haven't seen her nor the doctor and nurse before made me think that they must be new around these parts.
"I'm Cedric Lthues. People call me the city's crime king," I boasted with pure pride.
"So you're a mafia boss?"
"No, I meant that I am the boss of crime. I take care of all the criminals in the beautiful Viridescent City."
The woman looked at me with eyes of pure confusion. "I-I'm sorry, what city?" She inquired.
"Viridescent City! This is Viridescent City, didn't you know that?"
Her face became even more puzzled. She took out a tablet and started doodling with her fingers. By the patterns I could see that she was drawing something, but I couldn't figure out specifically.
"I'm going to ask you some questions, okay?" Straightforward she asked. I saw no downside in answering some inquiries from her so I decided to agree. She then pulled up something on her tablet and started with the questions.
"Do you have any family at the moment?"
Undeniably, this caught me off-guard since I didn't know what she would use with this information. For all I knew she could be with the city's biggest mafia, after all I haven't seen her uniform before. But then again, that was just a minor possibility. In the end, I couldn't find a reason not to respond, "Mother is Maria Vera Lthues, father is Leonardo Vinita Lthues, and younger sister is Celia Lthues." The woman doodled some more on her tablet and continued, "Where do you live at the moment?"
"Walhkhor Square, 506 Main Street, 2056, Viridescent City, New Hampshire."
The woman looked at me blankly, as if the address I gave never existed.
"O...kay?" She muttered as she continued her business on her tablet, "Do you have any significant other or children at the moment?"
The memory of my wife played in my head. I remembered the pain and anxiety I felt before I crashed. I tried to speak, I tried to move my lips, but it was like I had sleep paralysis, my lips were frozen.
"Hello?" she asked.
I was dozing off into the world of nightmares for a second. Thankfully, the woman's voice snapped me right back. "O-oh, ummm, I have one, her name is Liana Vernice, and she was pregnant last time I saw her," I told her.
Her gaze had the same look of uncertainty in it.
"When was the last time you saw her?"
"How long was I out?" I asked because I had no actual genuine idea. But I was left in the air and she went back to her tablet some more before closing it. "Ok..." she said to me as she moved closer to my white-clothed body. The aura around her and her tone was different from the old stare of death. It was like she was ready to tell me how the sausage was made. She sounded like she was ready to break the magician's code right in front of me and she looked like she was prepared to blow my mind by saying Santa's not real.
"What city do you think you're in right now?" She asked.
Was my educated hunch wrong? I was almost never wrong. I thought she was ready to spoil Christmas for me.
"U-umm Viridescent City," I replied in bewilderment.
She shook her head and broke the news to me, "The city you're in right now is Claret City."
At that moment two substances crept under my skin—skepticism and pure, utter confusion. One the one hand, I was beyond skeptical. There was no way I was in a different city. But on the other hand, I was ready to believe her because of the way she said it with pure seriousness. I couldn't choose between the two so I chose the next best thing.
"Excuse me," I asked in a mumbled mess.
"You are in Claret City," she clarified. That line made my detective instincts take over and I chose not to believe the woman's outlandish words.
"Liar!" I scoffed. I didn't know then that that one word was the catalyst to something grim, the scissor that cut the line. The word I uttered returned the woman's furious aura and gaze.
"You dare call an anti-crime agent a liar?" She exclaimed in a provoked tone. The darkening aura made me panic and I didn't even know why. Maybe I wasn't as tough as I imagined.
"No, no, no, it's just that-" her previous words played in my head and cut my chain of thought. Then I realized the stick in the mud, "-wait, anti-crime agent?"
The woman's stare of death faded away into a look of dubiety. "Do you not know what a crime agent is?" She asked, clearly annoyed.
"Ummm, no," I replied straight. The woman closed her eyes in frustration and rubbed them as if she had a headache. It was clear that I was the cause of her annoyance. She then went on to rub on her head until finally coming to a judgment, a judgment that I didn't like. "Okay, you're coming with me," she announced demandingly and pulled out her phone. I instantly objected; there was no way I would follow some random woman in a weird outfit. God knows what she'd do to me.
"No way José," I cried, "Why would I follow you?"
"Because I now have," she tapped some more into her phone, "Jurisdictional authority over you under the city of Viridistinct."
There were more things wrong in her sentence than Bill Cosby. I had to unpack it one by one.
"Okay, one, it's Viridescent City. Two, you do not have jurisdictional authority over me because you are not from a real government entity, and finally, three, you'll never get me out of this hospital," I uttered in quick succession. The whole time she was tapping on her phone like she didn't hear a thing. When I finished, she went close to my face for me to fully see her angry jade green eyes and said,
"One, it's Claret City and it's been like that for the past 500 years. Two, I do have jurisdictional authority because I am from a real government entity, and lastly, three, I can get you out of this hospital because you won't realize it when I do."
Understandably, I didn't have a problem with her first answer, but the second and last ones made my head move.
"What authority?" I asked with pure gravitas.
I suddenly felt a prickle down in my legs. I turned to look and to my terror, that dastardly woman injected some sort of syringe straight from a horror movie. There were two rings and the whole thing was painted gold—it instantly came to me that that wasn't a normal syringe.
The liquid inside was a shiny fuchsia hue, it looked like a weird concoction a child would make with hot water and pink dye. Before I could object, the woman injected all of its contents into my veins and pulled the long metal needle out before putting a bandage over it. I wanted to scream in protest, but as soon as the bandage was over the small poke in my skin, I felt dizzy. My head was like it was being stirred with a spatula over and over, my hands and arms were frozen like it was buried under ice, and my breathing became heavy like I just exercised. I turned to look at my frozen limbs to see that the veins were lit to the same shade of pink from the syringe. My body ached just like from the car crash, only a little less.
"Khyorodiphenhydramine, a sleeping aid that most probably wasn't in your time," she disclosed with confidence as she looked at my suffering body.
"Kh-kh-kh-gh..." I tried with the best of my abilities to make my lips move, but all attempts were more futile than trying to catch a mosquito with your bare hands.
"You're from the past, aren't you?" The woman deduced. I wanted to conjure words, but all I could do at that moment was to look at her with utter agony and disorder.
"Well, before you go out, I just gotta say-" she went to my side and whispered in a tone of a ghost's "-Welcome to the future, Detective Cedro." And with the haunting words of the woman as the last I heard, my eyes shut themselves and the blackest of darkness took over my eyesight.
It was like getting hit by a car over and over again and when I woke up, I was in a place I was very familiar with—a police interrogation room. I was sitting in the chair where criminals sat, with both my arms and legs strapped securely in it. Squiggling my way out to attempt a breakout was to no avail. Minutes passed and I was still bound to the chair. Suddenly, the door opened and through it came a man in the same uniform as that odd woman. He was tall, dark-skinned and had dark hair. Just by looking at his brown eyes I was able to tell he was a very serious person, like me in some moments. He sat down in front of me with a look that was also something I was very familiar with, the mean glare. His eyes were affixed towards me that spelled furious in big, bold and italic letters. Obviously, I knew how to let the man's look not get to me, I was to just stare back at him with the same look that he gave me. After another session of a deadly staring contest with this person, he started asking me some questions.
"So," he started off in his deep monotone of a voice, "Let's start this off shall we? Why do you think this city is called Viridescent city?"
I answered immediately because it was easier than a calculus question. "Because it has always been like that for 500 years, I thought everyone knew that," I said with confidence. The black man rubbed his closed eyes in clear disgust and confusion to what I answered.
"Okay, let's start with something even simpler," he continued with a tone that sounded like he was talking to a child, "Tell me where you live."
I decided to tell him the same address I told that woman and once more he rubbed his closed eyes. It was as if the address I told him never even existed. When he finished rubbing his eyes, he grabbed a folded piece of paper violently out of his pockets and unfolded it in front of my eyes before putting it on the white wooden table.
"Okay, genius," his tone filled to the brim with sarcasm, "Circle out where you live." He demanded as he brought out a red marker to the table. I, myself, was getting very irritated at the man just as he was with me. Was this man an immigrant? Was he not aware of the addresses in this country? Was there no such thing as an address from where he came from?
"Okay, let me ask you some-" I uttered.
"I ask the questions here, bub," he cut me off with fury. Ah yes, the typical bad cop. So cliché, so generic, so predictable! I rolled my eyes to this horrendous scene, to which, obviously, the man didn't like. "You listen here, you criminal."
"Criminal?" I objected and took that opportunity to talk to the man. People like him who had the same interrogation technique always never let suspects talk unless asked. So whenever there was even a second of dead air, you must use it to your advantage and talk as loud as you could to overpower his voice.
"Listen here, you psychopath, I'm no criminal," I said very quickly, "I'm not the criminal here, it's the guy who ran me over with a car. I was walking to my apartment when some black, well I think it's black, car ran me over on the street. Plus, I'm a very well-known detective in this area, Cedric Lthues. Do you not know who I am? Are you just more stupid than a 7 year old? Or are you one of those disgusting immigrants that do nothing but lay waste to this fine-" The man smashed his hands at the table as he stood up. I think my last line actually triggered him. Before, he looked like some kid who got his candy stolen, but at that moment, he looked like a cheetah hunting for gazelles. His stance, in truth, had me a bit shocked. Maybe it was his build or his eyes, but I was like a kid who saw a flying cockroach heading towards me. I was taken aback to my very core.
"Listen here, you pompous, little brat," he roared in fury, rightfully so I must admit, I guess I did go a little overboard. "I don't know what address you're talking about or wherever the hell you came from, I just need you to tell me who you are!" He shouted right in my face. I could smell his lunch—tuna sandwich with mayonnaise, it smelled horrendous.
"Now," he said as he looked right into my soul, "What is your name?" My bafflement couldn't be comprehended. I already told my name, why would he ask for it again? Did I stutter?
"Cedro Ricweard Lthues," I responded, emphasizing every single letter. The man groaned as he stormed out of the room. My facial muscles couldn't help but spell "What the hell!"
A few minutes passed and the only people in the room were me and Mr. Cricket and his family. It was getting more boring than watching the clock tick. I was having a little conversation with myself when the door opened once more, and this time, it wasn't the big black man, it was someone I've met before. A woman with light brown skin walked into the room. The scene of her injecting that weird liquid into my body played back in my head and irritated me a lot. In fact, I was livid.
"Hello, you bastard," I said in spite. She didn't even bother to respond to my vexxing. The moment she entered the room, she sat right down in front of me.
"I'm sorry for agent Qor's behavior," she exclaimed respectfully.
"Oh, so now you decide to be nice to me," I replied with obvious anger, "Also, who's Qor?"
"My apologies for not introducing myself. I am anti-crime officer, Kronido Idaliah, and the man you saw a few moments ago was anti-crime officer, Krotghor Qor."
The first thing that I noticed from the get-go was the atrocious names. Krotghor? Kronido? Who were the parents of these people? Were they from a country I did not know of?
"Okay, Kronido Idaliah," I responded with sarcasm, "Riddle me this, why are you and your friend pretending to be from a real government authority?" I could feel a threatening aura emitting from the other side of the table.
"Why are you pretending to be a dead person?" She asked. Another pile of papers was added into my binder of confusion.
"Umm, w-what?"
I was beyond bewildered. The woman went to me and unfastened the leather straps on my arms right before putting a white folder on the white table. As she sat down on her chair, I stared at her with eyes that spelled "What should I do next?"
"Well," she continued, ''Go ahead, flip it open." With her signal, I grabbed and opened the vanilla folder. I didn't know what to expect, but what I saw inside was something I could never imagine. The crème folder contained some files about me, it was harmless at first, but the more I read it, the more incredibly stunned I became. According to the file, I was supposed to be dead. My eyes wandered through the ludicrous papers, increasing my doubt of my own existence. It said that I died in a truck crash.

"At exactly 8:07 PM, February 12, 2022, Cedro Ricweard Lthues was run over by a speeding truck while he was running back home to his pregnant wife. Cedro was pronounced dead on arrival. The driver of the truck was sent to prison with a 15-year sentence."

As soon as I finished reading what supposedly happened to me, I couldn't help but blurt out loud, "What the fuck!"
"Yes," she said to me," According to this, the name you speak of has been deceased for 973 years."
"I'm sorry? 973 years?" I asked with the highest degree of perplexity I could ever have.
"What year is it?" I asked.
"It's 2995."
Those words became an agitator for me, a very terrible catalyst, and the detonator for the nuclear bomb which was my mind. The bamboozlement was so severe and affected me so greatly that my vision started going blurry. My nerves were shaking without my knowledge and breathing became heavy, as if I just ran a marathon without a break. My joints shifted into jelly, soft and useless. So was my life just a dream all this time? Were all those psychopathic, conspiracy idiots right? Was the world a simulation all this time? Everything I knew wasn't true and the reliable suddenly shifted into the dark side of things.
"Hello?" The woman called out. I looked into her eyes to see my reflection and it was like I was having a seizure. I was panicking too much. It took me a while to eventually get myself together by breathing in and out.
"So you're saying," I clarified, "That I'm supposed to be dead?"
"Yes," she abswered with confidence, "So now I ask you. What is your real name?"
I didn't know what to answer. They believed that I was dead, and for good reason really. The papers seemed legitimate and could be trusted, I should know. But at the same time, it was not, albeit I did not know how to prove it. And so I said the same thing as I did before, I didn't have a new one anyway, "I told you, my name is Cedric Ricweard Lthues." She peered at me closely, like she was checking every single facial muscle I had. Eventually, she stopped and walked out of the door.
"Don't go anywhere," she uttered before closing the metal door.
"I can't!" I screamed back.
From the other side, the room beside where I was, I could hear her and three other voices. She was joined by the familiar voice from the same black man as before, Qor. The other two were unknown to me, but they must be colleagues from the same department or agency.
"That guy's tough," I heard from Qor.
Idaliah agreed it would seem and continued, "This is like, what, the 7th time he said his name is Cedro." Then I heard her call two names, "Roy, Jenntih."
"Working on it," the new male voice said. That must be Roy.
"Already finished," another female voice exclaimed arrogantly. That one must be Jenntih.
At that point I was able to identify who was speaking based on their distinct voices.
"I scanned his face all over the system," Jenntih explained, "All I found is the same thing we found."
"You're doing it wrong, probably," Idaliah boasted.
"Okay then, Ms. Computer Freak," Jenntih said with mockery, "Go ahead and see for yourself." I heard the shuffling of chairs, making it painfully obvious that they were having some sort of argument. There was a rhythm of vivid tapping on the keyboard that gracefully danced around their room before it was shattered by their loud exchange.
"What the hell?"
"So, Ms. Computer freak, have you found what you were looking for?"
"Roy, can you check?"
"I already did."
"So," Qor spoke, "Is he actually telling the truth?"
"No way," Idaliah announced, "You can't revive the dead!"
"I mean," Jenntih continued, "We can travel anywhere now. Jupiter, Neptune, even to another galaxy."
I heard Roy agree, "Yeah, anything can happen now."
"I know, I know," Idaliah cried, "But reviving the dead? That's some Dr Facilier type of technology, and it's not even technology. That's straight up voodoo magic!"
The apparent argument going on between those four was all too amusing for me and I simply continued to listen.
"Well, yeah," Qor admitted, "What other explanation could there be?"
"Oh, gee, I don't know," Idaliah said sarcastically, "Maybe he's wearing a plastic mask?" It was then that the other three let out a gasp of realization. They must have remembered or figured out something that was excruciatingly obvious from the beginning. A plastic mask? Were they talking about some sort of plastic surgery?
Idaliah seemed to concoct and discuss a horrible plan for me, but for what it was, their voices turned to low mutterings that were too soft for me to comprehend. Meanwhile, I was singing Washington On Your Side from Hamilton to myself while their horrible brainstorming began and circulated. My somewhat joyous self was singing some Broadway belts to an audience, which was myself, when white smoke suddenly erupted from the vents. Although I didn't know what it was, I've watched a lot of movies to know what the smoke was, and I didn't like my realization. I was getting so tired of people putting me to sleep using ungodly tools and techniques. The moment I figured out what the smoke was, I took the small minute I had of clear breathing and shouted as loud as I could, "SON OF A BITCH!"
Those were the last words of mine before the sleeping smoke pierced my nose and did what it was made to do. My eyes closed for the third time, and the gas forcefully dragged me once more to the horrifying land of my dreams.