A tumblr blog has been made for this OF, because I'm planning on making it long. Find it at keynineteen . tumblr
She doesn't remember how long she's been stuck there. She remembers being a normal teenager once, laughing with her friends.
(don't tell me you've already forgotten their names)
How many years does Penny Hizkar have left to live?
3.
She whispers a quick 'god bless you' to the stranger's name on the paper, as is her tradition.
How many years does Jerry Simons have left to live?
7.
How many years does Miria Polsy have left to live?
16.
How many years does Anne Kalinger have left to live?
She doesn't know.
She almost dropped her pencil.
She doesn't know.
མངོན་ཤེས་
Kamali was tired. Very tired. Like, 'I can't think of anything clever so my entire witty mental repertoire has been reduced to cussing out everyone within a five foot distance to me' tired. Basically, if she didn't get to a bed within five minutes, was going to pass out right then and there, right over the dead body.
Which was why she was here in the first place.
"Heavy neuron damage to the cerebrum and well... um... every single one of his neurons ripped themselves apart."
That part got her attention. She refocused on Maria, who looked freaked out.
"Did nobody hear me?!" She asked, slightly hysterical. "His brain suffered such extreme electrical trauma that it overloaded! You can't overload your brain. You can't even access more than 20 percent of it! Do you know how much electricity had to be pumped through his head to do that!"
Time to do something before she loses it.
"Hey, what's that he's holding?" She asks, careful to pick up the key in his hand without touching the dead body (ew) herself. She knows she's wearing gloves so her fingerprints wouldn't show up when they scan the guy, but she still hasn't forgotten the time a guy literally grew mold wherever someone touched him. That was gross.
She holds up the key to examine it, looking up at it in the sun. It has a red gemstone, garnet maybe, set right in the middle. That's the only weird thing about it. Other than that, it looks just like any other key you'd use to unlock the front door. The gem itself seems fake, but she doesn't see any of the bubbles that form inside in plastic rhinestones. Weirdly enough, when she taps it, it doesn't have the feel of stone. Rather, it feels almost wooden.
"Kamali, please do not handle the evidence." The prissy, nasally voice of Mr. Takahashi was the bane of her existence. It was all 'Kamali, please don't jump out the window,' this and 'Kamali, don't bring in a shark tank,' that. No fun at all.
Maria motions for her to drop the evidence into a ziploc bag, which she does gratefully and then gets up, yawning. "Can I go now?" She whines, pulling her neck until it cracked. Hey, she got to whine. She'd torn her favorite shirt right at the hip, and now she has to stand in some dead guy's gloomy apartment, listening to Maria freak out about something significant and scientific or the other.
"You are of no use to this investigation currently, as the victim is post-mortem, and you are in a weakened state." Takahashi intones, adjusting his suit jacket.
"Sweet!"
She pretends not to hear Takahashi's exasperated sigh. She knows he cares. Deep down.
The incessant beeping of her alarm clock is her first clue something is wrong. The same clock that she broke that morning, having flailed and knocked it off of it's stand.
After her obligatory freak out, she notices that the world looks just a bit... greener than usual. Not quite noticeable, but she's woken up to those walls for at least five years now. She knows the exact shade of each patch on that wall. And they definitely look less blue than usual.
Something is wrong.
She finally brings herself to get out of bed, and then notices the shirt casually slung over her chair, atop a huge pile of clothing. A shirt that very clearly had a tear in it yesterday.
Shit.
Kamali has heard stories. Who hasn't? Every young child in Prithvi has heard the stories. The nineteen keys to Armageddon, to Kali Yuga, Ragnarok, whatever you wanted to call it. She didn't think they were real, of course.
But that was the only explanation for what was happening. She picked up the Kala Key.
The Key to Time.
ns 15.158.61.18da2
