Luther stood in place, his eyes following the slowly retreating steam car until it was just a faint silhouette in the distance. He could feel Emma's gaze on him, the weight of her unspoken thoughts pressing down on the air. Her eyes, wide and full of longing, watched the car disappear with a deep, almost painful reluctance.
Luther's lips quirked up into a faint smile. He walked over to her, his hand reaching up to ruffle her hair in a way that was meant to comfort.
"Let's take care of the body first," he said, his voice calm. "Once that's done, if all goes well, you'll get to see him again."
Emma blinked at him, confused by his cryptic words. She was still trying to understand exactly what was happening, but she knew better than to question him. There was something about the way he spoke that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.
Luther's smile deepened into something knowing, almost amused. He wasn't concerned about the task ahead. Nawasir, the twisted being he'd entrusted with the mission, had always been reliable. And Luther had his own reasons for choosing to use such a creature, reasons he would keep to himself for now.
'If things go south, all I have to do is release Nawasir,' he thought. 'It'll take care of everything. After all, as an ancient Old One, if Nawasir can't handle some human pests, it might as well find a rock to crawl under.'
---
Inside the steam car, the mood was different. Nawasir, a mass of undulating, bloated flesh and strange limbs, had been hiding for most of the journey, curled tightly inside the exhaust pipe. But as the car moved farther away from Luther's presence, the familiar scent of his energy fading, Nawasir's form began to stir.
The beast had accepted a task from an even greater, ancient being, a being who demanded great sacrifices. And now, Nawasir's thoughts turned to its mission. It was time to capture the human in the car. But how to do it? Should it pounce from the shadows, consume the man whole? Or perhaps it should be more theatrical, emerge from behind and 'swallow' him before he could even scream?
No, no... Nawasir's mind raced. It couldn't just 'eat' the human. It needed to bring him back, alive, to that great and terrible being. There was no room for failure. So, perhaps... a single, clean swallow would do? But would it be able to handle such a large meal all at once?
'Ugh, this is too complicated,' Nawasir grumbled inwardly, frustrated. It was never simple.
After a long moment of deliberation, Nawasir made a decision. The solution was straightforward: it would simply appear above the man's head and swallow him in one motion. Swift, decisive, and hopefully not too messy.
---
Back in the streets, the steam car finally came to a halt outside a large, sprawling villa. Nawasir, having carefully monitored the human's scent, slithered out of the exhaust pipe. Its form, still oddly bulbous and grotesque, oozed out of the narrow opening with disturbing ease. It took its time, its body making strange sucking noises as it moved toward the villa.
For a moment, Nawasir felt a strange pang of homesickness. It missed the comfort of its own lair, away from the plague of 'humans'. It grumbled to itself, wishing that 'licking dog' the annoying creature that usually followed it around, had been here to help speed things up.
Wait... 'The licking dog'?
Suddenly, a disturbing thought crossed Nawasir's mind. It dove deep into its memory, rummaging through its vast collection of thoughts. Yes, yes, the 'licking dog' was back home, wasn't it? But something else had slipped Nawasir's mind in its haste 'the spittoon'! It had forgotten to bring the spittoon!
"No!" Nawasir whimpered in realization. Its gelatinous form turned an even darker shade of green, now a sickly grass-green as anger surged through it. The old beast let out a low growl, its emotions boiling over.
'The stewed meat!' Nawasir thought frantically. 'That little traitor must have eaten it while I was gone!' It had spent so long planning the perfect stewing of the meat, and now, that creature—'that licking dog'—had probably devoured it all.
"NOOOO!" Nawasir's voice was a low, menacing hum, vibrating through the air, causing a ripple of unease in the humans nearby.
The very ground beneath the villa seemed to tremble as Nawasir's anger took physical form. In an instant, all the lights in the villa flickered, and everything in sight shifted. The world around the villa's inhabitants was replaced with something... stranger.
Before them, everything was made of stewed meat; piles and piles of meat in every direction. The scent was overwhelming, the textures bizarre and almost hypnotic. At the center of this grotesque landscape loomed the massive, blurry form of Nawasir, devouring the meat with a ravenous hunger that was both disgusting and awe-inspiring. Its gelatinous, green form squelched and slithered as it gorged itself, its massive jaws snapping and tearing through the food.
In the villa, chaos erupted. West Ward, the corpulent congressman, was the first to drop to his knees, his hands pressed against the floor in an almost religious reverence. His eyes were wide, almost feverish with ecstasy.
"Do you fools not understand!?" Ward screamed, his voice cracking with wild joy. "This is... this is it! This being, this 'ancient one' has answered my prayers! I've finally done it!"
Ward turned to his guests; his fellow politicians and a few high-ranking protectors, all of whom looked utterly bewildered by the unfolding madness. They exchanged confused glances, their minds struggling to grasp what was happening.
Ward, however, was far beyond comprehension. His excitement boiled over, and, with trembling hands, he began to strip off his clothes, revealing his bloated, sweaty body. Each layer of clothing fell to the floor, until finally, he stood only in a loincloth, his eyes wide with manic fervor.
"I've done it!" he cried out again, his voice breaking as tears of joy welled up in his eyes. "I've summoned the greatest power in the universe! You should all be 'grateful'! Do you understand how much I've sacrificed to make this happen?!"
The others, still too stunned to react, could only stare in horror as Ward continued his frenzied display, entirely unaware of the doom he had just invited upon himself.
And in the background, Nawasir's gurgling laughter echoed through the meat-filled void, its hunger unsatisfied, its fury far from over.
The room fell into a heavy silence, the air thick with dread and disbelief. The faces of the onlookers were frozen in shock as they stared at the congressman's body. The grotesque sight before them was impossible to ignore; dozens of human faces, male and female, were stitched haphazardly across Ward's bloated form, their eyes wide in eternal terror, their mouths twisted in silent screams.
A few of the less resolute among the group began to stagger back, their faces contorting in horror as they gagged and retched. The stench in the air was unbearable, a sickly mixture of decay and something far worse.
The high-ranking transcendent, a man who had witnessed countless horrors in his time, stood rooted to the spot, his expression one of pure revulsion. He had long held a contempt for Ward, a man whose ambitions were as insidious as his corruption, but never in his worst nightmares had he imagined the congressman could sink to such depths. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, Ward had used forbidden rites, forsaking his humanity and embracing an unspeakable darkness to transform himself into something monstrous, something beyond the human race.
The group was paralyzed with fear. They had been prepared for many things, but this... this was beyond comprehension.
Ward, however, seemed oblivious to the horror around him. His eyes, wide and frantic, were filled with a wild, manic gleam as he muttered to himself. His body was contorting, his skin warping, as if he were caught in the throes of an unimaginable transformation. Faces; those grotesque, stitched faces, began to writhe and fall away, the skin underneath cracking and oozing as black, writhing tentacles burst forth from his flesh. They flailed wildly, creeping over his bloated body like serpents, twisting and spiraling with unnatural speed.
A strangled, guttural scream escaped his lips as he clutched at his throat, his body thrashing violently in an attempt to dislodge whatever entity was taking hold of him. His movements were erratic, filled with frantic desperation. He was no longer in control.
Then, in a horrifying flash, a long, spindly arm shot from his mouth, gripping his head with unnatural strength and slamming it violently into the floor.
'Boom!'
The impact rattled the room. Ward's eyes flew open, his gaze wild with confusion and shock. For a moment, he lay there, stunned, disoriented. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to process what had just happened.
A cold voice broke the silence, cutting through the chaos like a blade.
"Are you awake now?" The voice was calm, almost detached, a stark contrast to the madness surrounding them. "Do you need me to wake you up again?"
Ward's dazed eyes flickered around, searching for the source of the voice. What he saw made his heart race; a figure cloaked in gray, a bird-beak mask obscuring its face, standing imposingly before him.
His panic flared as he looked around in confusion. "What… What's going on? Where is the great being? Who are you?" His voice trembled with fear as he backed away, only to find himself bound, his body tied to the cold stone floor with thick ropes.
"No!" Ward gasped, his eyes bulging. "What have you done to me? Why am I, why am I here?"
Luther stepped forward, his face impassive. He nodded slightly, his gaze flicking down to the struggling congressman. "It seems he's awake now," he said flatly. "But you probably have more pressing questions."
With a sharp motion, Luther pulled Emma from the shadows behind him. She had been standing there, silently, watching the unfolding scene. Her eyes were red-rimmed from the tears she had shed earlier, but now her expression was unreadable, almost cold. She kept her head lowered, her body trembling slightly as she stepped forward into the light.
Luther's voice softened, a hint of something almost like sympathy in his tone. "Do you recognize her?"
Emma stood there, her gaze distant. She had longed for this moment, dreamed of it even, but now that it was here, the reality was far more unsettling than she had imagined. The man who had caused her so much pain, the man who had killed her brother and destroyed her life, was kneeling before her. And yet, as her eyes traced the faces stitched into his body, the fear she had thought long buried surged up within her.
Her body trembled, but not with fear; not entirely. The deep, primal instinct for revenge, for justice, flared in her chest. She had spent years waiting for this. For the chance to confront him, to end his twisted reign over her life. But seeing the monstrosity he had become, the twisted result of his madness, left her feeling more hollow than vindicated.
Ward's eyes locked onto Emma, his voice growing increasingly frantic, his tone filled with disbelief. "No… no, this can't be! It's impossible! I killed you… You were dead! You died that night! I 'I' killed you! Why are you still alive?"
Emma squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. The memory of that night was still vivid, burned into her mind. She had been so naive. When Ward had come to her door, broken and begging for help, she had been unaware of the monster lurking beneath his human facade. She had taken him in, fed him, and even offered him shelter.
But it was all a trap.
Her brother had been the first victim. She could still hear the sickening thud of the hammer. She had found him lying in a pool of blood, his life snuffed out by the man she had once trusted. And when she confronted him, thinking she could reason with him, he had only given her a cold, mocking smile.
That had been the moment she realized the truth; the truth that had driven her to this moment.
She opened her eyes, her gaze now calm, unwavering. The tears had dried up long ago. There was no more room for sorrow. Only cold, steely resolve.
Behind her, the strange humanoid creature that had been standing silently twisted and shifted. Its form warped, contorted, and grew until it became something entirely different, a massive black sickle, gleaming in the dim light of the room.
Ward's eyes widened in terror as he saw the black blade descending toward him, its sharp edge cutting through the air with a terrifying hiss. His scream was swallowed up by the sound of the sickle's descent, and in the final, horrific moment, Emma's gaze never wavered. She was no longer the frightened girl from before. She was the one who would deliver justice, no matter the cost.
The blade came down.
And with it, so did the final reckoning.