The Question That Lingers
The silence between us was so sharp, I could hear the dust settling.
The Minotaur and I locked eyes. My body was broken, my ribs screaming, blood dripping from my mouth—but I still had one question.
"What are you?" I rasped.
The air went still. You could've heard a pen drop.
Then it spoke.
Its voice was deep, slow, ancient—like stone grinding against stone. "I am a subordinate of the Lord of Flies. A soldier in his legion. My name is irrelevant. Only the mission matters."
I blinked, stunned. Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe I'd taken another hit to the head. But the beast kept speaking, and the words were too clear to ignore.
"What's your mission?" I asked, snapping out of my daze.
"To investigate," it said, with a tone that made the word feel like a death sentence.
"Investigate what?" I demanded.
The beast chuckled—a low, dark sound that echoed through the factory like a curse. "Your species."
I stared, bewildered. "Why?"
The Minotaur tilted its head, eyes burning. "A good question. Most of your kind assume the mark is enough to stop us. That's… hilarious. If only you knew, mortal."
It took a step forward, muscles rippling beneath its armor. "But have you heard the saying—curiosity kills the cat?"
Then it charged.
Its right fist tore through the air with such force that the shockwave knocked me back a step. I dodged—barely. That punch would've shattered my skull.
I backpedaled, ducking and weaving, but the beast was relentless. Each strike came closer, faster, heavier. Then—bang. A clean hit to my jaw. My vision exploded into stars. I crumpled to the floor, knees buckling, ribs screaming.
A brutal kick followed, driving the breath from my lungs. I could only grunt, blood spilling from my mouth. The Minotaur grabbed me like a rag doll, lifting me off the ground.
"This is where you die, hero," it growled.
Then—
"Freeze! Hands up!"
The voice cut through the chaos like a blade. The Minotaur tossed me aside and turned toward the figures at the entrance.
A cop. And beside him—her.
Sophie.
Even through the haze of pain, I recognized her. She looked like salvation.
The beast didn't speak. It just sized up the officer, eyes narrowing.
"I have the mark!" the cop shouted, voice trembling. "Stand down!"
The Minotaur stepped forward.
The officer fired—his entire clip. Every bullet hit. None mattered.
The beast charged, grabbed him mid-dodge, and slammed him against the wall. The blows came fast, brutal, merciless. The Minotaur was enjoying it.
Sophie rushed to me, kneeling beside my broken body. "Are you okay?"
I tried to sound tough. "Yeah," I croaked, blood in my throat. "I'm good."
She smiled, brushing hair from my face. "I'm getting you out of here."
"Okay," I whispered, trying not to blush. Even now, I was admiring her—trying to play it cool.
Then, with a burst of will, the officer pulled out his pepper spray and unleashed it into the beast's eyes.
The Minotaur roared, blinded, stumbling back.
The officer collapsed, gasping for breath. Sophie helped me up, and together we reached him.
"Get up," she said.
He looked up, nodded silently, and rose to his feet.
This was our chance. Our only chance.
We ran—limping, bleeding, breathless—toward the woods. Behind us, the Minotaur's roars echoed, fading into the distance.
But one question wouldn't leave my mind.
What were they searching for?