SLAP!

Thump!

“WHAT THE-?!” Detective E exclaimed, startled out of his unscheduled nap. He looked around panickedly for a second and, upon confirming that he was still in the same dingy, hole-in-a-falling-apart-wall office, at his desk that’s covered in manhwa books instead of case files, slumped back down and resumed his sleeping position.

“Hey! Get up!” an urgent voice commanded while something tapped earnestly at his back. “Getupgetupgetupgetupgetupgetupgetup!”

“WHAT?!” Det. E spat, shrugging off the tapping hand forcefully. Honestly, it’s nap time. People have GOT TO respect nap time!

“THERE’S A GIANT FLYING COCKROACH BY THE DOOR!”

All grumpiness evaporated as Det. E jumped out of his chair and dived under his desk. Cockroaches are awful as it is. Flying cockroaches are clear proof that evil does exist.

“What the heck are you tapping at me for?!” the man cowering under the desk called out. “Go get a broom or a chair or something - anything - and KILL IT!”

“LIKE HECK I WILL!” cried the other man before dropping down beside Det. E and trying to squeeze in beside him. “In our 10 years of being partners, when have you EVER seen me kill a cockroach?!”

He successfully stuffed himself beside Det. E, and they sat there on the cold floor, shoulders tightly pressed against each other.

“Ooomph! Why can’t you just hide under your desk?” Det. E complained, squirming to get a little more space.

“Because it’s closer to the door! Where the spawn of hell is!” the man beside him replied in a voice slightly higher than his normal tone. “C’mon, you go out and kill it. I woke you up to tell you about it. Think of it as me saving you. If I hadn’t woken you up, it could’ve landed on you and eaten your face.”

Despite the crampedness, Det. E turned to give his partner a “you have got to me kidding me” look.

“I swear, D, I don’t even know how you became a detective with that kind of logic.”

“Hey, I read all Sherlock Holmes stories at least 10 times each. I’m practically trained in the art of detection,” Det. D argued.

“I’m pretty sure Mr. Holmes said that it’s a science, not an art,” Det. E corrected.

“Deduction is the science,” corrected Det. D. “But according to Mr. Holmes, he wanted to write a textbook about the art of detection.”

Det. E couldn’t help but give his partner a look of surprised admiration in the semi-darkness.

“So what do we do now?” Det. D asked after a minute’s pause. “Stay here and wait for it to go away? It’ll eventually fly away, right?”

“Well…” Det. E trailed off, scratching the back of his hand. He forgot about the ants. A decade of eating at their desks has made the floor underneath a favorite hangout of hungry insects. “It could, but didn’t we close the windows earlier because it was chilly?”

“Oh… yeah…” Det. D realized. “So… where else could it fly to now?”

Det. E scratched his hand once more. They really should prioritize a major cleaning of the office soon. These ants are getting persistent, and seemed to have grown large enough to make slight scratching noises.

Wait. Hold up. Ants don’t make scratching noises.

And slowly, dreading what he was pretty sure he’d see, Det. E looked down and said, “I… guess… it’d fly… ON MY HAND!”

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

The desk flipped over as the two detectives hurriedly got out from underneath. Det. E leapt on top of his chair, doing his best to shove off Det. D, who was trying to climb up beside him.

“Let me up! Let me up! It’s coming for me!” Det. D plead, yanking on Det. E’s pants, which the latter held up tightly.

“You have your own chair! Go cower on top of that!” Det. E shooed. However, Det. D’s persistent struggling allowed him to share foot space on the chair, and both men had to hold onto each other in order to keep their balance.

Det. E’s eyes darted up and down and around the right side of the room, while Det. D, who was facing the left, surveyed that side.

“Do you see it? Is it gone?” Det. D whispered.

“I don’t know, it might just be hiding,” replied Det. E, checking his hands and shoulders and the top of his head. This was another traumatic experience that’d result in an additional obsessive-compulsive habit.

Det. D whipped his head around. “What was that?!”

“Where? I didn’t see anything.”

“I heard buzzing…”

They fell into another bout of silence, listening hard for the cockroach’s movements. With controlled breaths and minute motions, the two detectives scanned their tiny office, looking for possible points of attack of the icky invader while simultaneously planning an escape route.

Det. E’s eyes zoomed in on the wall sockets, which were all plugged in with extension cords. His gaze followed the cord to his equally filled power strip, crowded by various chargers and the plug of his UPS, which he realized, was lying in a heap by his upturned desk, along with his work/private laptop.

He stifled an agonized groan. He’ll mourn over his most-likely-departed laptop later. For now, the perp needs to be located, and it’s highly probable, based on past experiences, that it’d utilize the power cords to climb up to desks and other higher places.

“No sign of it over here,” he whispered to Det. D.

Det. D gave him the tiniest nod and continued his investigation. Squinting, he locked in on the corner by the bookshelf, the one that they never really cleaned. For all they know, insects could be mutating because of the filth in that corner. The cockroach could’ve gotten in any day that they had the window opened, and hidden behind furniture. There might even be a mouse hole somewhere. They really should clean the office. But its most likely place of residence is that corner. He traced a path with his eyes, climbing on the side of the shelf to the mouldings on the ceiling all the way to the door.

Was it going out? To do what? To get more food? They had plenty of food here. It could just want to live in a different office. Yet, if it indeed was trying to get out, why the door? Why not wait for the window to be opened again? Also, why fly? It could crawl on almost any surface. Why risk the attention and getting squashed?

His thoughts were broken by Det. E’s sudden movement.

“What? Did you find it?” he asked.

“I… I think I heard something…” Det. E replied, unsure.

“Yeah, that’s what I heard a minute ago. But I just can’t see-”

Det. E pressed his index finger against Det. D’s mouth, silencing him. “Sssshhh. Listen.”

It was a mix of scratching and buzzing, and from somewhere really close by. Yet no matter where they turn their heads, the two detectives just couldn’t spot the escapee. Det. E withdrew his hands from clenching onto Det. D’s sweater to ensure once more that it is insect-free. He patted his shoulders and head as well. All clear.

“I think we’re starting to hear things,” Det. E said, checking the floors one last time. “Maybe we should get down…”

Something moved behind Det. D’s feet. Det. E blinked twice. They looked like… antennae.

And like a monster surfacing from its evil lair, the cockroach’s head peeked up the edge of the chair’s seat.

“IT WAS UNDER THE CHAIR!”

With another set of terrified screams, the two detectives jumped off the chair at the same time and bolted for the door. In their panic, their hands could hardly pull the door open, which usually required a combination of jiggling and lifting and pushing or pulling, depending on which side of the door one is accessing.

The cockroach successfully climbed onto the chair’s seat, its black eyes gleaming as it watched the two men fumbling at the door knob.

“It’s looking at us, E. It’s coming for us!” Det. D cried before tugging at the knob.

“SOMEBODY LET US OUT! WE’RE LOCKED IN WITH A MURDEROUS INSECT!” Det. E shouted against the door while banging on it with his hand.

The cockroach, seeming to have bored of watching two grown men panic, leapt off the chair and scuttled a couple of inches forward. It paused, as if to check whether or not the victims have escaped (or have taken arms), before scurrying towards the upturned desk, scaling the sides until it reached the highest point.

Then, it continued to stare at the two.

With renewed gusto, Dets. D and E thumped on the door with their fists, screaming for help.

On the other side, the dull metal door sign jumped along with each thump, the letters tilting here and there. The years of haphazard entrances and exits has loosened them, and it’s been years since the signage served its purpose of identifying the office within.

With another thump, the remaining letter E broke free and fell, landing on a calloused palm that stretched out just in time to catch it. Fingers wrapped around it, and the resulting fist thumped back on the door.

“Hey! What’s going on?!”

Dets. D and E paused and looked at each other, their faces slowly opening up with hope.

“Open the door!”

“We’re trapped!”

“Break it down! Whatever! Just get us out of here!”

“Get back!” the man from the other side commanded. He rotated his shoulders and brought his right fist, the brass E peeking out, into his left palm. With a grunt, he took a step back before shoving his shoulder into the door.

The rusty lock gave way instantly, sending the rescuer sailing to the floor inside. While he sputtered against the hard landing, the door swung back, revealing two squashed detectives decorating the wall.

“What the heck is going on here?” demanded a slender shadow by the doorway, followed by an irritated meow.

The man on the floor, still coughing, pointed to the detectives, who have successfully detached themselves from being wall hangings.

“I-I’m sorry about the mess. W-we were trapped-”

“We couldn’t open the door-”

“We’ll definitely replace that!”

“Why should we? It’s a deathtrap!”

“SHUT UP AND TELL ME WHY YOU BROKE MY DOOR!” yelled the meowing shadow. It stepped into the room, revealing that it was after all, just a person with a cat. “And who the heck is that?”

“It’s just… there was a killer cockroach attacking us…” Det. D trailed off.

“Wha- you wrecked my property because of a cockroach?!” said the cat person.

“Well technically, tough guy over there wrecked it, not us,” Det. E pointed out.

The man who was formerly on the floor has stood up, and his hands flew up in aggravation. “But you told me to break it down! I thought you were getting murdered or something with the way you’re screaming!”

“We were! By a cockroach!” Det. D cried.

“Well? Where is it? Three grown men freaking over a tiny thing, pffft,” demanded the cat person.

The three grown men looked around, Det. D peeking over Det. E’s shoulders while staying behind him.

“Oh, wait, I found it,” said the cat person, checking under his slippers. There, all squashed but still unmistakable, was the terror that caused the mess.

Dets. D and E let out a sigh of relief. The man who wrecked the door patted the cat person’s shoulder and, smiling, said, “Good job. You’re the gutsiest landlady I’ve ever met.”

SLAP!

“Ooooh, that has GOT to hurt!” whispered Det. E, massaging his own cheek.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!” cried the rescuer, hand over the impact point.

“If you call me a landlady one more time I’ll-”

“Whoa there Mr. Kim,” Det. D quickly intervened, taking the hissing cat, which was about to be thrown to the rescuer, from its owner.

Det. E came up to the slapped and murmured, “That’s a dude, man.”

“How dare he call me a lady?! HOW DARE HE!” fumed Mr. Kim, getting pushed into a chair by Det. D. “I’m a pretty guy, that’s all! What, guys can’t be pretty now?!”

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” apologized the rescuer. “He’s too pretty to be a guy,” he, in turn, muttered under his breath to Det. E. “Heck, he’s prettier than a lot of girls I’ve dated.”

“Why the heck are you letting in strangers in here anyway? Such a security risk to my building,” Mr. Kim complained to Det. D after he has calmed down.

“We’re a private eye company, remember? It’s our job to let in strangers. Well, clients,” Det. D reminded his landlord.

“Besides, this building doesn’t even have security,” Det. E complained. “A couple of CCTVs aren’t gonna cut it.”

“Then YOU buy those stupid cameras and install-” Mr. Kim started snapping at Det. E when he paused and turned to the rescuer and said, “Oh, wait, I know you. Aren’t you the watermelon guy?”

The rescuer smiled brightly upon his recognition and nodded. “Yes, yes! That’s me. I park up front sometimes to sell watermelons.”

Mr. Kim looked him up and down twice. As if a scan has been done, he gave a curt nod and said, “I do like your watermelons. Alright. You can stay.” He then turned to his other two tenants and warned, “You two. If you don’t fix this mess by the time I come back from my weekend getaway, you can kiss your deposit goodbye!”

“We will!” Det. D said, saluting. “Kangin will help!”

“I will?!” Kangin, formerly known as the watermelon guy, said incredulously.

“Hey, it’s you who bulldozed that door,” Det. D reiterated. He quickly shrunk away as Kangin cracked his knuckles while giving him an annoyed look.

“Well? Are you going to just stand around there all day? The door won’t reattach itself!” Mr. Kim reprimanded, hands on his hips, his cat slinkering around his legs.

Det. E sighed, grabbed Det. D by the back of his collar, and dragged him to the mess in the middle of the room. Pushing up their sleeves, the pair started picking up the folders, papers, books, and everything else and piling them onto the chairs first to clear the space for the fallen table. As Det. D tossed a couple of manhwa books onto the pile, the chair gave way and fell backwards, creating another mess.

The two detectives stopped immediately and turned their eyes on Kangin, who sighed in resignation. Rolling his eyes, he joined the other two in the clean-up.

Just as they were closing the door to take photos of the lock for ordering later, fast footsteps - running footsteps - was heard from the outside. Before they could check it out, all three of them were thrown back as something hit the door they were trying to fix, completely taking it off its hinges.

Mr. Kim, who was supervising the clean-up, let out a horrified yelp. Det. D and E and Kangin the Watermelon Guy lay on the floor groaning, the door that’s now beyond repair lying on top of them.

Framed by the doorway, a tall figure stood, hands against both sides of the frame to steady himself as he choked out words between pants. “GUYS!” He panted. “Something’s come up. Something huge. And I need your help to solve it.”