Under the dim light of his phone, the blond man suddenly saw a corpse lying on the ground. The body was slightly overweight, dressed in a gray suit, and lying face-up. Blood covered its neck, with a horrifying wound stretching from the neck down to the chest. The blood had pooled on the ground and soaked into the clothes, dark and sticky. The wound looked as if it had been torn by a beast, with muscles exposed and revealing yellowish fat, giving off a sickening stench.
"Damn!" The blond man screamed, stumbling back in shock at the gruesome sight of his boss. The short, stocky man next to him rushed to help steady him.
"What the hell happened?" the short man asked.
"Get out of here now! The boss is dead!" the blond man yelled, panic overwhelming him. He didn't stop to explain and took off, legs trembling beneath him. His friend, equally panicked, followed closely behind, not wanting to stick around after hearing the boss was gone.
Just as they ran, a loud thud echoed through the darkness, followed by a gust of foul-smelling wind. The blond stopped, panting, and raised his phone again to see what was happening. The dim light revealed a shadow lunging toward him. Instinctively, he raised his arm to defend himself, but a sharp pain instantly pierced through it—like claws digging into his flesh.
"Shit! Shit! Damn it!" he screamed, swinging his phone in a desperate attempt to fend off his attacker. But before he could strike, the next blow came—a brutal strike to his throat, cutting off his breath and sending waves of pain through his body. He fell to the ground as his consciousness faded, his last breath escaping him.
The short man had barely realized what was going on before he too was taken down, his throat viciously torn open, leaving him to bleed out on the floor.
Peter, concealed in the shadows, silently observed as the two men met their end. He watched without flinching as their lives were snuffed out. His attention shifted to the true killer—a massive gray wolf with brown fur and terrifying, glowing eyes. The beast's sharp fangs had made quick work of the gangsters.
This wasn't any ordinary wolf. Its size was more akin to a grizzly bear, radiating a terrifying, murderous aura. Its very presence made Peter pause.
What kind of creature is this? A werewolf, or some sort of mutant?
The wolf scanned its surroundings warily, sensing that another hunter was nearby. It knew it was not alone and could feel the presence of a more dangerous predator hidden in the darkness. The beast began to retreat cautiously, but it was too late.
With a swift movement, Peter struck. His blow hit the wolf square in the chest, sending it crashing into the ground. The wolf, tough and resilient, recovered instantly, charging back with lightning speed. It lunged at Peter with claws extended, moving faster than any normal wolf could.
"Bang!" The floor shook as Peter raised his arms to defend against the wolf's powerful attack. He winced slightly—this creature was stronger than he had anticipated. A layer of black, armor-like keratin had formed over Peter's arm, similar to an exoskeleton, blocking the wolf's claws. The transformation had occurred without him even thinking about it—a natural evolution of the alien inside him.
Peter swiftly counterattacked. As the wolf tried to dodge, Peter adjusted his position and struck again, this time aiming for its heart. His alien-enhanced arm, now covered in sharp, black armor, pierced through the wolf's chest like a blade, driving straight into its heart. Blood sprayed out, and Peter withdrew his hand as the wolf collapsed, its life quickly fading from its once-ferocious eyes.
Peter looked down at the now lifeless creature, shaking the blood from his hands. Just as he was about to inspect the body further, something unexpected happened. The gray wolf's body began to shift—its fur receded, its claws disappeared, and it gradually morphed into the form of a young boy.
Peter stared, shocked. The wolf had been a boy in disguise? A werewolf, perhaps? He had encountered vampires before, but seeing a transformation like this was something else entirely.
After a moment, Peter's shock subsided. Whatever it was, it didn't really matter now. He turned his attention to his real objective—the safe in the room.
Still deep in thought, Peter punched through the metal door of the safe. Inside, there were stacks of U.S. dollars, totaling about $500,000, and white bags of powder—undoubtedly drugs. At the bottom was a folder. Peter flipped through its contents, pausing as he skimmed over one word: "Beast."
Looking back at the lifeless body of the wolf-turned-boy, Peter's expression darkened. He had a rough idea of what had been going on here.
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