As Agent Mendoza delved deeper into her investigation, a sudden noise shattered the oppressive silence. The unexpected sound of movement and scratching reverberated through the decaying building, jarring her senses. Until now, the quiet had been absolute, making the interruption all the more startling. Compelled by her duty, she knew she had to investigate. If anyone was in this old, derelict structure, they could be in grave danger.
"Hello?" She called out, her voice slicing through the still air. Silence was her only reply. Tension coiled within her as her mind raced with paranoid thoughts. Was the killer still lurking nearby? Did she need to act swiftly before it—whatever it was—delivered her the same gruesome fate as the others? Perhaps she had imagined the noise.
She swept her flashlight from side to side, gun ready, searching for any sign of movement. "Hello?" She called again, her voice tinged with urgency. She stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat. The beam of her flashlight revealed nothing. Then—a crashing sound! She swung the light toward the noise, her instincts honed by years of self-defense training kicking in. In blind panic, she fired her gun, the shot echoing through the halls and startling a rat scurrying away in the distance.
She exhaled in relief. She was safe, for now. But the relief was short-lived. Barely moments later, as Mendoza scanned her surroundings, her eyes fell upon a limp body—the aftermath of a vicious attack. It was Derek Miller, the fellow officer sent ahead for reconnaissance, believed to be dead.
With a gasp of shock, Mendoza rushed to her fallen colleague's side, crouching to inspect his wounds. His body was heavily emaciated, much like the previous victim she had encountered earlier. Puncture wounds marred his hands and arms, his legs twisted grotesquely, bones protruding through torn, wrinkled skin. Claw marks ran from his shoulder down to his hip in horizontals. Dread filled her as she reached to check his pulse, only for a hand to stop her.
Derek Miller was still alive.
He let out a deep, hacking cough, struggling to speak through a mouth filled with blood. "I'm... I'm not useless. I swear I'm not." Then, with a final, chilling effort, he uttered one word; "Run!"
Ahead, something unleashed an inhuman roar, shattering the eerie silence. The initial muffled yells quickly escalated into bloodcurdling shrieks, creating a cacophony of terror that echoed down the corridor.
"I definitely heard that. Any read on what it was? What's the matter? Anything in sight, Unit 6? Report your situation," the dispatcher's voice crackled in her ear.
"A-affirmative," she whispered, her voice trembling as her heart pounded wildly in her chest. She paused, straining to catch any further sounds until—
THERE IT WAS AGAIN!
Describing the noise as quietly as she could, her voice quivered with fear. The sound had rattled her to the core, making it hard to catch her breath. Somewhere in the distance, further down the rust-coated corridor, a voice shouted fearfully into the dark labyrinth. Her breathing quickened, her lungs struggling to find their rhythm. Her body was out of sync, mirroring her growing panic.
Easy, Mendoza. One step at a time, she repeated to herself, attempting to steady her nerves.
Unit 6 found another civilian nearby, half-mad with terror and confusion, curled up in a ball. The woman was shaking and muttering, "But she was so little," over and over in a haunting refrain. Agent Karlene Mendoza could now hear a low growl, mingling with the rancid stench of the night air. Then she saw it—something big. Raising a finger to her lips, she signaled the woman to remain silent and cautiously rounded the corner to pinpoint the source of the noise.
She crept through the dark and dismal space, shrouded in a thick mist that deepened the sense of foreboding. Through the haze, she saw figures moving. Lifting her foundation binoculars, she cut through the fog, revealing the truth beyond. The situation was grim.
"Where are you now, Unit 6? What's your location?!" The dispatcher demanded, urgency cutting through the static.
Agent Mendoza pressed herself against the corroded iron pipes, her body partly hidden by a strategically placed trash can. She fought to keep her breath steady, not out of fear but heightened alertness. Her gun was ready in her hand. The sounds of movement continued, and the evening air carried a putrid odor—something akin to rotten eggs or was it decaying meat?
By God, what could be causing that God-awful stench?
"Eastern district, at the ironworks..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It's... still here. It's in here."
"Unit 6, what are you talking about? Why are you whispering?" The dispatcher's voice cut through the tension.
"Because, I think there's something in here with me," Mendoza whispered, her voice barely audible.
And there it was, lurking in the shadows, barely visible but undeniably present.
"Something? What are you talking about? What's in there? Unit 6, do you copy? What's over there with you?!"
"A MONSTER—" She managed to utter, her breath shallow, her face drained of colour. She had to determine where this creature had come from, and fast. Running was futile; she had ventured too far in. She knew it was a Monster, but she needed to be sure. Desperately, she hoped it wouldn't notice her.
She dared to look again, and what she saw sent icy tremors down her spine, a vision so harrowing it could freeze the blood of anyone who encountered it. Mere feet away, shrouded in shadows, stood a gargantuan red creature with a grin that stretched grotesquely across its face. It was unlike anything she had ever imagined.
Described in fearful whispers and fragmented accounts, this being was more a monster than a man. Witnesses had spoken of a horrifying visage—its face a disfigured mask partially obscured, eyes blazing with a hellish, fiery glow. Some claimed it appeared as a gaunt figure with a devilish charm, draped in a flowing brown cloak and a tight, oilskin garment. Others spoke of its razor-sharp claws and its terrifying ability to breathe fire, sometimes blue or white. Yet the most consistent feature in every tale was its preternatural agility; leaping over walls, bounding across rooftops, and vanishing into the night with effortless ease.
Now, the creature materialized before her, a nightmarish embodiment of those accounts. Its teeth were stained with dark blood, and its towering, humanoid form was undeniably monstrous. Clad in a tattered brown cloak with the hood pushed back, it was a grotesque parody of a man—its broad shoulders and imposing stature exuding an otherworldly menace.
And there it stood, eerily still, a spectral sentinel in the enveloping gloom.
Its hair was a wild, black mane, tangled and unkempt—something only a creature of its enormity could boast. Atop its head rested two small, red horns, devilish and sinister. The monster's frame, though vaguely human, was obscured in shadow, revealing little more than its menacing presence. Its eyes, glowing with a feral hunger, were a deep, blood-red, and it towered well over six feet, possibly more. This was no mere shadow or thief but the terror known as Griffith.
In the darkened corners of Stonehaven, Griffith moved with the other nocturnal predators, blending effortlessly among muggers and lesser beasts. This malevolent entity, a wolf in disguise, prowled with an insatiable hunger.
And now, it was feeding time.
The female officer stood paralyzed, her gaze fixed in unspeakable horror as the monstrous figure claimed its victim—a young man in his mid-twenties. His desperate cries and pleas were swallowed by the creature's insatiable hunger. Slowly, the young man's hands withered, transforming into grotesque, gnarled appendages. Grey, spider web-like strands sprouted from his scalp, as if his very youth was being siphoned away. A dreadful tightness constricted every muscle in his body, contorting his features into a mask of agony. His vision darkened, his skin shriveled and cracked, and his senses dulled. The monster continued its cruel feast, siphoning the man's very essence—the TAIJI—until nothing remained but a lifeless shell.
The creature reveled in its power, savoring every moment of the process. Yet, even its hunger was not fully satisfied. When it deemed there was nothing more to take, it discarded the lifeless husk. The man's body fell to the ground, joining the others—now not merely comatose, but hollowed out, a mere shell of what once was.
"A truly monstrous entity," she whispered in awe.
****
At least twenty or thirty bodies lay scattered across the ground, a macabre reminder of the carnage that had transpired.
Moments later, the Monster in the distance fell unnervingly silent, a silence that amplified the officer's palpable unease, radiating from her like scorching heatwaves and leaving her blood simmering with tension. The instant she heard it, Agent Mendoza was overwhelmed by a brutal, crushing anxiety unlike anything she had ever known, as though an invisible hand were squeezing her heart. Whatever it was, it stood mere meters away, its wheezing breath slicing into her consciousness like a butcher's knife. The sound was monstrous, dreadful.
On a deep, primal level, Mendoza understood that if this creature—whatever it was—laid its hands on her, something unimaginably horrific would happen. The fear was so paralyzing she couldn't move a muscle in its presence.
Despite the hood obscuring its features, she could somehow perceive it, like a defenseless animal sensing an approaching predator without seeing it, instinctively knowing it's too late to flee. Every ounce of her training, every hard-won achievement, every piece of battle-hardened experience evaporated in the presence of that thing. Mendoza was so terrified she might as well have been a child.
"A MONSTER? What, another one?!" The dispatcher exclaimed, staring at his colleague in bewilderment. The officer's voice crackled over the radio, pulling his attention back to the transmission as he listened intently.
"I'm looking at it now, and it's about eight feet from me and it's... what the hell, it's..."
"Unit 6, stay on the line with me. What's happening?!" The dispatcher demanded impatiently.
"It's staring, staring right at me. It's perfectly still, just smiling. Not moving. Just smiling."
It was exactly as she described.
The Monster stood there, motionless, with a menacing grin etched across its raw, fleshy face, revealing a grotesque array of yellow teeth. The officer swallowed a lump of pure terror, paralyzed as it turned slowly to face her. Its glowing red eyes locked onto hers, an unblinking, soul-piercing gaze that held her in a vice grip of fear. The air was thick with the scent of its victims, sharpening its predatory senses. It knew she was there, and it had no intention of letting her escape.
The Monster's appetite needed to be sated, and the officer was in the wrong place at the wrong time. How unfortunate. If only she knew the depth of its hunger.
"Can you classify what category it is?" The voice crackled through her ear communication device.
"I don't know. I've never seen anything like this before. I don't think it's in any database," she muttered, her voice trembling with fear, eyes wide with the horror of the sight before her. She dared not look away, knowing that the slightest lapse could be fatal. Her breaths came hard and fast, shallow gasps that racked her lungs and sent her body into convulsions, each inhale drawing in the horrific stench. The air was thick with the smell of dried blood and rotting meat from the corpses strewn around. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was there, permeating the small space with its putrid presence.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. The stench of rotting meat seeped into her nostrils, a nauseating reminder of the horror before her. Exhale. The monstrous figure, once a distant threat, now loomed alarmingly close. The gap between the Kaiju and Agent Mendoza closed in an instant. Her heel snagged on a rock, sending her crashing to the ground with a jarring thud against her tailbone. A sharp, dull ache radiated up her spine, momentarily stunning her into stillness. Panic gripped her, seizing her body in violent tremors. She lay there, paralyzed by fear, with no escape in sight and no one to hear her desperate pleas. "Please. Please get someone out here now," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The creature watched her intently, its head tilting in a slow, deliberate motion, its eyes locked onto her with a chilling, predatory curiosity.
"Unit 6, stay calm. I've dispatched assistance; an officer is on the way. Do not engage the creature under any circumstances. It may harbor unknown pathogens or diseases for which we have no cures—assuming it isn't a documented foundation anomaly. Observe strictly. Stay with me; everything will be fine, I assure you," the dispatcher said in a soothing, reassuring tone. Yet, his words offered little solace against the overwhelming tension she felt.
"Why... why won't it move?" She whispered, her voice trembling with fear. "It just stands there, unblinking, with that horrible smile. Oh my God, I think it knows I'm here. I think it's going to hurt me." She paused, her breath hitching. "No, wait—it's starting to move. No, not moving, rotating. It's rotating..."
"Rotating?!" The dispatcher asked, his voice fraught with bewilderment as he listened.
"Yes, it's rotating. It's turning its index finger," she said, her voice quivering with fear. "I think it's trying to communicate something. It's signaling... signaling that I turn around??"
As she uttered those words, a searing, heavy breath brushed against the back of her neck, causing her entire body to freeze. The nauseating stench of rotting meat crept around her head, invading her nostrils, and making her hair bristle with dread. The low, sinister growls from behind her grew louder, and as Agent Karlene Mendoza slowly turned, she caught sight of the monstrous figure. The terror etched on her face was palpable, and before she could even scream, a sickening squelch echoed through the radio. The sound of claws slashing through flesh, bones cracking, and blood gurgling filled the air. Then, abruptly, the radio went dead.
A chilling, oppressive silence followed.
"What was that, Unit 6? Unit 6?!" The dispatcher's voice trembled with fear.
On the ground lay Unit 6, lifeless. As the blood poured from the fatal wound in her neck, the cloaked Kaiju leaned in close, its whisper cold and menacing; "Soon, it'll be all your turns."
Empowered by the stolen life force of the fallen officer, the Monster seamlessly assumed her form. This metamorphosis was essential for its survival; it required more life force—more TAIJI—to prolong its existence and sustain its reign of terror.
The very presence of this anomaly, this Kaiju, commanded your full and undivided attention. For the Rscp Foundation, this case was particularly unsettling as it marked a rare confrontation with an anomaly that was actively challenging them. Two incidents might be seen as coincidences, but three established a clear pattern. It wasn't long before more reports of this malevolent anomaly began to surface across the city.
Unlike most sentient anomalies that skulk in the shadows to evade capture by the Rscp Foundation, this Kaiju thrived on confrontation. It had an unnerving ability to reduce even the most seasoned personnel to quivering wrecks with its mere presence, and its reign of terror was only beginning.
The Rscp Foundation's greatest strength lay in its mastery of blending into the mundane, using the ordinary to remain unnoticed. Yet, the Monster, now disguised as the young officer, exhibited an uncanny talent for camouflage. For the Kaiju, this ability was not just a tactic but a natural, deadly art, performed with the same effortless grace as breathing.