The Undercover Bad Boy

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Bugs Lair

A/N: Richard Harmon from The 100 is how I imagine Carl but each to their own 

Also the chapter is unedited but I wanted it to go up regardless

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Bugs Lair

Card didn't look too pleased to see us standing on his doorstep when he finally emerged out of his room. Nevertheless, with a weary expression pulling at his features, he indicated for us to follow him back into his bedroom. I trailed behind Jimmy through the Samuel's household – straight into the bug's lair.

The décor wasn't daunting. For one, mismatching quilted pillows didn't scream psychotic killer. Secondly, it smelt subtly like nutmeg spiced with cinnamon – that wasn't strong enough to mask the scent of decomposing bodies. I confirmed that I wasn't walking into a death-trap. If this hadn't been the home of bug-murderer Carl, this would have to be one of the most inviting places I've ever been to besides the comfort of my own bed.

Mrs Samuels flashed both of us bright smiles, more particularly at Jimmy, before returning back to her baking in kitchen.

It was a small apartment so it didn't take us long to arrive to Carl's room. He pushed the door closed, making sure that the lock clicked soundly into place. He swivelled around and rested his bodyweight on the oak wood. I wasn't sure if it was intentional but my mind couldn't shake the feeling that we were now trapped, undoubtedly caught in the spider's web.

Piles and piles of comic books were stacked in the corners of room alongside a variety of video games, films and other gaming devices. A heavy-duty electronic and computer system was balancing on a desk in the midst of all of the items he had collected. The blinds were shut, casting the room into the shadows however I was just able to make out that he walls were covered in paintings and drawings – I'm assuming all done by him. Some were off robots, fictional characters or graffiti-like prints; others were detailed portraits and animals.

This was not how I expected a bug-murderer's room to look like.

I imagined creepy jars filled with dead insects on rotting wooden shelves.

Carl looked at us impassively with a raised eyebrow. "Now can I ask why you of all people are invading my home?"

I watched Jimmy awkwardly sit on the edge of his bed, crossing his legs and arms.

Carl eyed him, suspicion and intrigue mounting. "I can take a guess at why she is here," he paused, "but I have no idea why you are in home as of present."

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders and decided to stop staring at the floorboards to face Carl with an equally cool, charming expression. "Moral support."

Confusion clouded Carl's hazel eyes for a brief second. "Since when were you two friends?"

It was my turn to immerse myself into their conversation, "That doesn't matter."

He faced me. "Does Zach – sorry, Zachary, as he likes to be called now – know you're here in my home with him?" His lips curved into a mischievous smirk as his eyes raked over Jimmy. My face must have said it all. He shook his head, his light brown hair swaying with each movement. "My, my, my, Alex," he scolded.

"Look, Carl, I need to know about Zach," I said as I played with the hem of my sleeves out of uneasiness. "Please, I know you know something."

Carl's hardened features softened ever so slightly though his eyes remained calculating. "Why don't you just ask him?" he suggested as if was the easiest thing in the world.

"If he would talk to me then sure, I would have asked him." When he didn't speak, I continued; "He's being acting weird lately. More cuts and bruises are appearing by the day. I just-" My voice faltered at its own accord, "-need to know what's going on."