The car parked in the dirt driveway was certainly not what Jaromir would normally drive in, certainly neither would any law enforcement officer.

  It was a disheveled, colour peeling, shot up PV445 that definitely had some lug bolts and other things missing but the Vrabel logo above the grill gave you the confidence you needed to not worry about the wheels coming off.

  What was on the body of the vehicle was more concerning to Jaromir than the condition of it, and by proxy, HIM.

  The colour scheme even without the rust, was of purple and blue, the standard LSN colour pattern, paired with a serial number and a navy ensign of the Yulsan People's Army.

  Both of them scowled at the thought of what kind of trouble they got themselves into.

  HE put on a pair of gloves and started to clean out the interior, it was full of Nalima beer bottles, cigarette buds, playing cards, condoms, candy wrappers, empty ice cream tubs, packets of substances that HE with Jaromir's law enforcement sensibilities could only assume to be illicit drugs.

  Then underneath a pair of neon yellow underwear, there was a snub nosed revolver.

  It had a particular smell to it, reminiscent of being recently fired.

  Hopefully not at a LSN peacekeeper. HE put it in an empty plastic ice cream tub. HE could throw it away somewhere and not be connected to any incidents. HE couldn't remember many things but HE could remember never being traced to any murder HE had been part of due to HIS fingerprints and genetic information changing with his metamorphosis. So it was best for HIM to not leave it around here.

  HE sat in the driver's seat but felt quite nauseated by the dirty interior to the point that HE didn't take off HIS gloves. Hygiene was not something HIS previous form gave any conceivable thought about if any.

  The car luckily had fuel and on turning the key, it rang to life. And more good fortune, HE knew how to drive.

  As HE started to drive out of the dirt lot, HE realised that the figure HE had been seeing in the corner wasn't around.

  Maybe he finally ascended or faded away or whatever the owners of HIS many forms did after they had their fill of sticking around and seeing someone that wasn't them going around with their face, and doing whatever they wanted.

  HE found them annoying, they made HIM insecure, guilty, nauseated, disassociated and burdened with the trace amounts of their personalities. But HE felt differently about him.

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  HE adjusted the cracked impromptu rear view mirror attachment to see himself “Whatever occurs is bound to have occurred”, HE told HIS reflection and IT nodded back.

  —

  The vast blue ceiling above with its countless white and gray blobs and dots got reflected in the deadman's cornea.

  Then a crow thought it ripe for picking and its beak pierced, and gouged out the contents out of the eye socket.

  The waters around the body lay still and murky, and the rows of rice stalks ruined and spoiled, their harvest date long passed.

  Jaromir stood by the corpse in the rice field, analysing the surroundings, trying to piece together what had happened.

  The dead man, quite savagedly maimed, lay beside a dead chimera.

  And a piece of a sharpened metal pipe was lodged right into the throat of the abomination.

  More importantly he was missing any type of footwear, Jaromir inspected his feet. They were covered in superficial wounds, not too deep but enough to make it painful to walk.

  “He was chased out here..” He noted to himself. A faint phantom residual cloud encapsulated the corpse and he saw that it led north.

  He followed the trail of phantom residue, and marched upon a bloody sight. A camp of tents inside a half collapsed industrial structure, probably refugees. Body parts strewn apart. Blood splatter decorating the grey concrete floors. Half eaten remains in the tattered tents and vultures munching on whatever remained to be eaten. A pot kicked over by the fire, a few pieces of radish and spinach stuck inside it.

  “This is where the victim must have come from.” He theorized.

  “They were attacked in the night. Caught off guard.” He tiptoed around the scene, trying to not contaminate it like he would when he was living.

  Candles littered the floor surrounding one wall, and a little pedestal was set up in front of it. A pictogram drawn on the wall with chalk. It was a humanoid figure with an elongated head that was covered in eyes, with wings, and stars on the chest or body. It looked like a ritual altar.

  Were they adherents of one of the offshoot Mazdekhite or Jabirite sects?

  Jaromir had become acquainted in the last two months of his posting to the ORAN, with the many new religions and offshoot sects that had popped up in the aftermath of the Convergence. But he didn't recognize this drawn figure.

  Jaromir saw an empty tent and a sleeping bag, opened in a haste with abandon lay deflated a few feet from it. The phantom residue led to it.

  The tent was ripped open but it didn't look like the work of an attacking beast but of human intention.

  He focused his mind and closed his eyes, and focused on rebuilding the most plausible simulation of events that he could.

  Then he opened his eyes, and the events of that night played before him, it had happened approximately two days ago.

  The man ran out of his tent upon hearing the commotion, maybe failing to open the tent zipper, flopped out the side of the tent, ripping it open.

  He was trying to get out of the sleeping bag and bag hopped for a few meters before he fell and finally crawled out of it.

  He ran barefoot into the fields. Finding a weapon on the way.

  That was the best he could surmise with his limited powers. Without his full powers to muster, his precognition of the past was limited. Maybe it was a sign that he was fading away. He was dead.

  So were the people here, he counted 26 people judging by the varying size of the footwear strewn about. He hoped at least few survived .

  He walked out of the structure and onto a row of desolate houses and farm land. Domestic animals like aurochs, goats and druvos ran free.

  Just beyond a field of untouched tall grass, he could see a lone car traversing a stretch of asphalt road. Maneuvering around fallen over trees, abandoned cars and uprooted parts of the road.

  Jaromir saw himself in the driver's seat but it wasn't him, it was that creature that wore his skin now.

  He watched as the car slipped out of view.