The sound of blood splattering into the air echoed. Followed closely by the dull thud of bone meeting stone. Again. And again.
Each impact brought a splash of green liquid, thrown into the air like paint. It kept repeating.
Three exterminators clad in white rounded a corner. The haven had called just ten minutes ago. Luckily, they'd been stationed in a neighboring sector, close enough to respond quickly.
But as they arrived, there was no sign of a myutant. The destruction was there—yes, craters, broken walls, and cracked pavement—but no towering form. No T-level three.
And a creature that big didn't just vanish.
One of them glanced sideways, silent. His hand lifted and pointed down the road.
Sabrina followed the line of Lovecraft's finger, her hand brushing her weapon. Her eyes narrowed.
In the distance, a myutant lay crushed. And perched on its corpse, a boy, frame as small as one of its legs, repeatedly slammed a rock into its head.
There were no other exterminators for miles. This was an unnamed haven, deep in the depths. Remote. Forgotten.
Sabrina stepped forward. The boy didn't flinch. He didn't stop. The rock rose and fell, over and over, wet cracks echoing with each strike. Footsteps grew louder behind him, but he paid them no mind.
"Did you kill that thing?" she asked, just below him.
"It killed my sister," the boy muttered. Green liquid splashed across his face. He didn't blink.
"You did it by yourself?" Lovecraft asked, coming up beside her.
The boy turned his head slightly. No bruises. No cuts. Not a drop of red on him. Just calm, unnatural stillness. He nodded once.
"How is that even possible?" Lovecraft whispered, hand over his mouth. "Sabrina..."
"I know," she said. She was already moving, climbing over the myutant's massive frame, kneeling beside the boy. "I'm sorry we weren't fast enough... that we couldn't save her."
"It's alright."
He looked at her, voice flat, empty.
"I killed it anyway."
Sabrina hesitated. Something about him was deeply wrong. But he'd done the impossible. He'd killed a myutant of this caliber alone... it was scary to think about but at the same time...
"What's your name?" she asked, softly.
"Osiris."
"How would you like to get out of this dump then?" Sabrina asked, extending a hand toward him. "Osiris."
____________________
A whistle cut through the air, echoing around the broken room, though not fully anymore. The walls were torn, half leading into another room, the other to the outside world.
Knox walked slowly, heading toward the interrogation room—the one they'd been in earlier. The door had been locked from within, and beyond it, faintly, he heard struggling.
He sighed.
Then the door blew off its hinges.
Blood seeped back into his fingers as he stepped inside. Dahlia knelt beside Ansel, desperately trying to pull free the blood spike that had him pinned to the wall.
At the sight of Knox, she whirled around, war hammer drawn.
"I won't let you take him!" she shouted, voice tight, breathing shallow.
"Dahlia, go! Don't get hurt for my sake!" Ansel yelled, still thrashing against the spike.
"You shut up!" she barked. "I promised you a burger and we are so getting it!"
"Dahlia, this isn't a joke—he'll kill you—"
Clang.
She flew across the room, slammed into the metal wall, shattering a strobe light. Knox stepped forward, blood tendrils retracting lazily into his fingertips.
"At first I thought you were cockroaches," Knox muttered. "Annoying pests that kept crawling back time and time again,"
He paused.
"But even cockroaches know to scurry away when faced with an insurmountable obstacle. You ruffian's... just charge forward."
"Giving up's not in our nature," Dahlia said, peeling herself out of the dented wall. Her hammer had blocked the tendrils, but the force behind them had still thrown her like a ragdoll.
She stood anyway.
Still breathing. Still standing.
But Knox was here now and that meant the others had lost.
If this man could take down both Osiris and Massiah... what chance did she have?
Knox lifted a hand.
The blood spike holding Ansel shifted, melting into liquid midair, but not disappearing. It hung there, suspended, forming a bubble-like sphere overhead.
"I'd channeled most of the iron in my blood into this sphere," Knox said, motioning to the floating orb beside him. "Increasing its density tenfold, a mere attempt to stop my brother from being taken away..."
He turned to Dahlia, eyes sharp. "But now... I wonder what's stronger—obsidian... or this?"
"Don't—!" Ansel shouted, collapsing forward.
But before the words could leave his mouth, the blood bubble stretched thin, then launched like a bullet.
Dahlia raised her hammer just in time, slamming it into the streaking mass. The impact sent shockwaves through her arms, the sheer force snapping the weapon upward, leaving her wide open.
The blood spike tore straight through her chest.
It splattered against the wall behind her as her body dropped, her hammer clattering beside her.
Knox exhaled.
"At last. All the nuisances are out of the way."
He stepped forward.
"Now we can talk without interruption."
Ansel lunged, swinging his fist, only for it to be caught squarely in Knox's palm.
"I keep forgetting you're still brainwashed," Knox muttered. "I wonder if Delta can fix that. Probably not, erasing memories is most likely impossible."
Ansel struck again. This time landing a clean hit across Knox's face, following with a sharp kick in an attempt to push himself away.
But Knox didn't budge.
"There's so much I want to show you," he said calmly. "So much you can help us fix."
"I'm not helping you do anything!"
"But you can feel it, can't you?" Knox said, tapping his chest. "Just by my heart. That pulsing. Like a virus."
Ansel froze, eyes narrowing.
He had felt this before.
Once. On his mother's heart.
"You're sick..."
"Yes!" Knox grinned wide. "We all are. That's why you're so perfect. Untouched. Unspoiled. And if all goes well... maybe you can cure us—"
"I hate getting hurt," said a voice behind him.
Familiar. Dry. Agitating.
Osiris.
"But even more," he muttered, "I hate when someone hurts my sister."
"Why do you stand up?" Knox asked, voice no longer tinged with irritation, but drowned in it. "Why must you persist, stress, interrupt—annoy me? Is that what your existence amounts to? An insect with no purpose but to bite at my heels?"
"You hurt Elendira," Osiris replied, blood pouring from his body like a cracked pipe, spraying in every direction.
"I should've killed her," Knox sneered. "My soft spot for family might be the flaw that dooms me."
Osiris's blade dropped, carving a trench through the floor like butter through bread. "I'll kill you."
"You said that before," Knox said, spreading his arms. "And yet, here I am, still standing."
Osiris didn't blink. He exhaled slowly. Calm.
"And besides," Knox continued, "your body might be of more use alive. Delta's project needs living subjects. So why don't you be a good dog, sit in the corner, and—"
Both of Knox's arms dropped to the floor.
No blood yet. The cuts had been too fast, too clean.
His eyes widened.
Osiris was already in front of him, blade low—slicing clean through the hardened blood around Knox's legs. With a swift flick of his wrist, the blade arced upward, racing straight for his head.
"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Blood erupted like fireworks, hurling Knox backward into the wall. He landed with a crunch just above Dahlia's motionless body.
His tendrils grabbed the severed arms, pulling them back, reattaching, but Osiris didn't chase.
He stood. Watching.
Waiting.
From the hallway, Massiah entered.
A long, curved scythe rested in his hands.
Behind him came Cassa, sprinting. And farther back, Sabrina, the both of them cradling Elendira in their arms, racing down the corridor.
"Stopping just short of death's door. Pushing the reaper aside. All for what?" Knox muttered, dragging himself upright. "Why do you prolong the inevitable?"
Massiah's eyes swept the room. Gran on one side. Dahlia on the other. Blood soaked beneath them. They're breathing barely enough to be called faint.
He exhaled.
And shifted his stance.
Osiris mirrored him, stepping forward. The first-grade who loathed working with others didn't speak. But he didn't step away.
This time, he welcomed the partnership.
Both of them stood before Knox.
Weapons in hand.
Eyes locked on their target.
The final act.
Kill or be killed.
Knox grinned wide, blood spilling from his fingers onto the ground below.
Tendrils snapped to life around him.
"Come at me all you want!" he roared, blood whipping into the air like a storm of spears. "I'll crush you like the bugs you are, again and again!"