His fists were bloody.
Gerard had been punching the smoldering wall long enough for the skin on his knuckles to split and blacken, the scent of burned flesh thick in the air. He watched in disgust as the wounds stitched themselves back together—muscle tightening, skin crawling over charred bone. Regeneration was supposed to be a gift.
Tonight it felt like mockery.
He pressed his wristwatch, jaw clenched."Lock, do you copy? I repeat, Hellracer's got me trapped in here. He's going to kill the people outside. Send backup."
Static answered him.
A full minute passed.
Too long.
He drove his fist into the adjacent wall. The impact cratered the dark metal, red light flashing beneath the surface—then the wall smoothed itself out like liquid glass, erasing the damage as if he had never struck it.
"That's not going to work, Monster Boy."
Hellracer's voice boomed from everywhere at once.
"I've learned some new tricks. So sit tight… and enjoy the show."
Gerard forced his breathing to steady. "Show yourself."
A low chuckle echoed through the chamber.
"Now let's play a game."
The walls ignited.
Blinding white light swallowed him, searing into his vision. He threw up an arm to shield his eyes. When the light faded, the chamber was gone.
He stood in a whitewashed room.
It was drenched in blood.
The floor was a thick red puddle sloshing around his boots. Chunks of flesh drifted lazily through it—fingers, ears, a tongue. The metallic stench coated the back of his throat. Intestines were draped across the walls like grotesque decorations, swaying gently though there was no wind.
In the center of the room sat a metal chair.
Strapped into it was a thin boy.
His long, blood-soaked hair hung forward, hiding his face completely.
"What is this?" Gerard roared. "What is this, you fucking demon?"
His heart pounded violently in his chest. Fear crept in—real fear—for the first time in longer than he cared to remember.
The boy stirred.
"You don't remember them… do you?"
His voice was soft. Brittle.
He lifted a trembling arm and pointed toward the far corner of the room.
Gerard turned.
Bodies were piled there like discarded laundry. Twisted. Broken. Limbs bent wrong. Some missing entirely. They had no faces—only smooth flesh where features should have been—yet somehow Gerard could see their expressions.
Pain.
Fear.
Despair.
Accusation.
"Monster," the child whispered hollowly. "You are a monster."
"N-no. I'm not," Gerard stammered.
"Then what are you?" Hellracer's voice rang through the room again, lower now. Closer. "Because you are no hero."
The blood around Gerard's boots rippled.
A sharp crack echoed from the corner.
He turned slowly.
The bodies were moving.
Skin tore as they pushed themselves upright. Bones ground against bone. One corpse lifted its broken jaw from the floor and held it loosely in its hands, its ruined lips curling into a grotesque smile.
"Good to see ya, Sonny boy."
The voice hit him like a blade.
Gerard froze.
The corpse shuffled forward through the blood, dragging one ruined leg behind it. "Come give your old man a hug."
Its tongue flailed uselessly without the support of a lower jaw.
Gerard stepped back, but the blood climbed higher—past his ankles, his calves, his knees. It was thick and cold, pulling at him.
"You never remember," the boy whispered behind him.
The other corpses began crawling forward, leaving crimson trails in their wake.
Gerard's breathing became ragged. His vision tunneled, the edges darkening and tinged red. The blood reached his waist. He tried to move, but his limbs felt heavy—wrong.
Something inside him snapped.
His spine arched violently. A crack tore up his back like a gunshot. Ribs shifted beneath his skin. His jaw clenched so hard a tooth split. Pain ripped through him as bone after bone fractured and realigned with sickening precision.
He tried to scream.
What came out was not a scream.
"Come on, Mr. Hex," Hellracer's voice whispered directly into his ear.
"Let's have some fun."
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Tomas Niever
The roaring inferno that had consumed the building had finally subsided.
What remained looked unnatural—like a warped black Rubik's cube fused together with glowing red veins running beneath its surface. Heat still radiated from it in heavy waves.
"Tommy, get away from the building."
The captain's voice was coarse, strained. His blonde hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat as he grabbed Tomas by the shoulder and steered him back.
"Who was that guy?" Tomas asked quietly. "He's not in the Giano hero database."
"That's because he's not a hero," the captain replied with a tired sigh.
"Then what is he?"
"Don't worry about that. Just secure the perimeter."
The answer did nothing to ease Tomas' unease.
The police worked alongside the Hero Association. They were trained under registered heroes in their provinces. An operation involving a member of The Horror Show Guild should have Guardian oversight at minimum.
So why was someone unregistered leading this?
"You worry too much, Tommy."
Rae bumped into him lightly, though her smile didn't reach her eyes. She gripped her gun tighter than usual.
The temperature dropped.
Suddenly.
Frost crept along Rae's weapon. The night fell unnaturally silent. No wind. No distant traffic. No insects.
A thick mist began billowing from the building, rolling across the pavement in slow waves.
Every officer turned toward it.
The captain stepped forward. "Everyone fall b—"
His head disappeared.
One second it was there.
The next it was gone, replaced by a bleeding stump as his body remained upright for half a heartbeat before collapsing.
Rae screamed.
Something moved inside the mist.
Too fast to see clearly.
Gunshots tore through the air. Muzzle flashes lit up the fog in frantic bursts.
The smell hit Tomas—rot and burned flesh.
Rae was suddenly hurled sideways into a cruiser, metal denting on impact. Tomas caught her before she slid to the ground.
The mist parted briefly.
Just enough.
A silhouette stood within it.
Tall.
Misshapen.
Limbs hanging at angles that weren't quite right. Steam rose from its body. Something glowed faintly beneath cracked skin.
It tilted its head.
Tomas felt his body go numb.
He didn't know what he was looking at.
But he knew—
It was not human.
And it was moving toward them.