Phones Are a NightmareMature


Dustin leaned forward in his desk chair, double-checking the info on the screen. There was no mistaking it, Battle Era had something to do with the murders, whether the owners were dead or someone else close to them was. He had to do something... Wait, just take it off the app store, right? Easy enough for him to do... Dustin created a bogus administrator account on the app store servers, and proceded to delete everything about Battle Era. 

Dustin wiped the sweat off himself over-dramaticly. Another crisis avoided, thanks to the brilliant mind of young genius, Dustin Decker! He smiled. Being corny like that made him feel better about what he did as a hobby. And it reminded him of his favorite movie, Wargames. 

Dustin grabbed his phone. Might as well tell the police about the connection. In an anonymus tip, of course.

"-Heartfield Police Station, how can I help you?" A female secretary answered. Dustin used the non-emergency line.

"Hi, I was wondering if you could get me the people in charge of..." Dustin glanced at his computer screen as new info came up. "...Case number 900?" He crossed his fingers.

"Can I ask who's calling? That's sesitive info, we don't hand it out to non-relatives..."

"-I'm a relative!" Dustin lied.

"Ok, name and Social Security number please?"

Dustin typed as fast as his hands would let him as text scrolled down his featureless screen, looking for the victim's relitives. "... Uh, I... Left the card... somewhere around here..."

"Here, why don't you give me your name while you grab your card?"

"N- Sure, it's-" He paused for the briefest of seconds to see the name pop up on screen, just in time. "-Harold Newman."

"Alright, do you have your Social Security card?"

"...Damn," Dustin muttered as he went down the wrong file path looking for the number. He came to it four seconds later, four seconds that felt like an eternity. 

"Yeah, it's-" He told the number to her.

"...Alright, Mr. Newman, I'll put you through, please hold..."

Dustin wiped the sweat off of himself once more. That was too close.

After a minute of holding, a rough, stressed sounding man answered the phone.

 "-Officer Jankins speaking, what do you need?"

"...Oh, hi... It's Harold Newman, brother of the victim on Case 900-"

"-Case 900? Awwwww crap..." He sighed. "...You heard the news, right?" He didn't wait for an answer. "-Good, so we can cut the shit. Whadya need to know?"

"Uh, I need some details about what happened to my poor sister..." Dustin tried his best to fake a weak sniffle.

"-What? Can't you just go to the scene and find out yourself? They're investigating it, but it's open to grieving family members..." The way he said 'Grieving family members' made Dustin feel uncomfortable. 

"...I take it you and your sister weren't very close?..." The annoyance and suspicition in his voice was apperant.

"...Uh..." Dustin hung up as fast as he could. 

"-Goddammit, got to stay away from faking it in real life..." He muttered to himself. He went to shut the computer down. The app was off the store, so hopefully that should stop it, he thought. Dustin shut the light off in his room and went to bed with a clear consious.


Dustin's phone vibrated against his nightstand at 11 o'clock at night. He reached up lazily and grabbed it.

Two new messages:


--"...It takes a lot more than that to destroy me..."

Dustin fumbled the phone, nearly dropping it. He shot up, completely speechless. But... He... But, but...His mind raced. He checked the number of the second message. It matched the number used by the app store auto-send messages. Dustin's eyes widened with confusion and fear.

The phone vibrated once more, causing Dustin to yelp a bit and drop it.

One new message: 

--"...And I'll make your life hell for trying to stop my growth..."


The End

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