The night sky was already descending by the time the figures clad in black emerge from the shadows, their movement precise and swift.
"Open fire!"
Sergeant Kim commanded as the distance between them was closing.
His team braced themselves, gripping their guns tightly and taking cover, unleashing a hailstorm of bullets toward the oncoming attackers.
Inspector Ray quickly glanced over to the third van, where a few injured officers had emerged, each one battered but resolute, picking up their weapons to join the fray.
"They're here for him."
Inspector Ray growled.
"We should burn down the van with him in it, better than him taken away."
Sergeant Kim, still focused on the battle, nodded grimly.
"I've already ordered officers to keep watch on him. Even if we don't survive this, we're not letting them take him. We'll all die here.
He fired another shot through the side of the van, covering their defensive position.
Inspector Ray nodded, steadying his aim as he watched the attackers advance with eerie, synchronized precision.
"I never knew Snowflake had this kind of backup," He muttered. "I thought he was a lone operator, not the head of an army."
"If they're anything like him, then we are doomed."
Sergeant Kim replied, glancing at Ray briefly before his voice was swallowed up by the deafening exchange of gunfire. The cops were fighting with everything they had, but the advancing figures seemed to move as if untouched by fear, relentless and unyielding.
---
At the far end of the street, a lone figure stood, dressed in black and watching from the shadows. Kante observed the chaos with a silent, almost clinical detachment, his eyes following every gunshot and movement, assessing the scene unfolding in front of him.
---
Inside the reinforced cell at the back of the third van, Uche's body began to stir. His eyelids fluttered as he came to life, a sharp pain pressing down on his chest.
Slowly, he regained consciousness, though his mind was clouded and disoriented. The sensation of his burnt skin repairing itself sent a tingling ache through his body, and he could feel life slowly seeping back into his limbs. With bleary vision, he took in his surroundings, trying to piece together what had happened.
The metallic clinking of chains echoed faintly in his ears as he shifted in place, restrained within the cell. As his senses sharpened, he registered the muffled cacophony of gunfire somewhere outside the van. He tried to focus, his mind drifting back to the last moments he could recall: firing bullets at the cops, the sudden blast, flames consuming him, and then… nothing.
"Did Mira come to save me?"
He muttered, half to himself, barely aware of his own words. But the thought slipped away as something far more urgent forced its way to the forefront of his mind. His stomach twisted in agonizing hunger, a raw, gnawing emptiness clawing from within. The pain was savage, unlike anything he had ever felt before—a fierce, unrelenting hunger that seemed to devour him from the inside out.
"Argh!"
He cried, doubling over.
This was the familiar hunger that always struck him after severe injuries, but this time, it was far more intense, more violent, his internal organs biting into one another, almost as if several wild animals were trying to devour him from inside
"Arghh."
He thrashed against the chains, the metal restraints barely budging as he strained with every ounce of strength he could muster.
Suddenly, a new sensation washed over him, interrupting his pain.
He sensed movement—a group of people approaching from behind him. They were moving in from the dying inferno, through the lingering heat of the recent explosions, but he couldn't see them.
He could feel their heartbeats, each steady pulse drawing his focus, pulling at something deep and primal within him. The rhythmic beat of their blood echoed through his mind, drowning out every other thought. He lost all sense of reason, of identity, he couldn't think straight, his sanity was distinguished.
All he knew was the pull of that blood, as if it was calling to him, feeding the raging hunger that burned through him.
A guttural scream tore from his throat as he thrashed in his chains, the van shaking under the force of his struggle.
"Snowflake is waking up!"
One of the figures outside shouted, their voice edged with fear. They were part of the elite squad, emerging from the last two vans that had been hit in the ambush.
"Open fire!"
Came the command, and in an instant, bullets ricocheted off the van, some piercing through the metal and striking Uche. Each hit weakened him further, sending waves of pain through his body. But the onslaught had a side effect: the relentless gunfire began to wear down the chains that bound him. Gradually, link by link, his restraints weakened.
After several more moments of relentless fire, Uche burst free from his cell, staggering out of the van, his body riddled with bullet wounds that oozed fresh blood. His skin, usually quick to heal, showed no signs of repair. He looked gaunt, his eyes sunken and hollow, but despite his injuries, his movements were unnaturally fast, his hunger propelling him forward with deadly intent.
"He's not healing anymore! Keep shooting! He's dying!"
One of the officers shouted, desperate.
But Uche was beyond pain, beyond fear.
He lunged at the nearest officer, ignoring the bullets tearing into his body. He grabbed the man by the shoulder, pinning him down effortlessly, and sank his teeth into his neck, drawing the man's blood in deep, ravenous gulps. Seconds later, the officer's body crumpled into a lifeless husk, a withered shadow of what it had been, reduced to nothing but bones and dry skin.
Uche stood up, his eyes gleaming with renewed energy. The fresh blood had fueled him, giving him strength, and he lunged at another officer, repeating the horrifying act. One by one, he drained each of them, his strength growing with every victim, the bullets embedding in his skin doing nothing to slow him down.
"Run! Run! We can't stop him! He's a demon!"
Someone screamed, their voice shaking with terror. Panic spread through the remaining officers, each one scrambling to escape. But Uche was relentless, tracking them down with a terrifying, single-minded focus. He moved from one officer to the next, leaving a trail of lifeless bodies in his wake, each one reduced to little more than a brittle, lifeless shell.
Finally, after consuming the blood of six officers, turning them to the shadow of what they used to be, Uche staggered, the strength in his limbs beginning to falter. His vision swam, and he collapsed onto the ground, darkness closing in around him.
Just as his body hit the earth, another explosion ripped through the air—the van he had emerged from was engulfed in flames, the force of the blast tearing through the air and consuming everything nearby. Once again, Uche was swallowed by fire, his body caught in the raging inferno as the chaos around him continue.