The Apartment - 4:12 AM
The rain drummed softly against the shattered window, filling the apartment with the scent of damp concrete. The night's reckless energy—the thrill of stolen speed and victories—had rotted into an eerie stillness.
Outside, the city still slept.
Inside, monsters answered their doors.
The two cops approached the apartment complex, their radios crackling with static. Officer Martinez, a veteran with a tired face, took a sip of stale coffee before shoving the cup into his patrol car's holder.
His partner, Officer Reeves, frowned as he scanned the upper floors. "Do we really have to do this. It's literally pouring outside and besides the calls from a few hours ago"
Martinez sighed. "Yeah, probably just some kids partying. But we still gotta check it out."
They walked toward the building, their boots splashing against rain-soaked pavement. The hallways were quiet. This early it would of been more odd to see signs of the usual tenants, or the usual bustling behind closed doors.
And then, as they knocked on the first door, it opened almost immediately.
A man with slicked-back hair and dark sunglasses stood there. His voice was too calm.
"Is there a problem, officers?"
Martinez frowned. "Bit late for sunglasses, don't you think?"
A small chuckle. "Yeah so, the lights killing my hangover."
Other doors creaked open along the hallway. More tenants—all of them wearing sunglasses.
Reeves shifted uncomfortably. "We got a call about a disturbance here. Someone reported Screaming."
"Didn't hear anything."
Martinez's gut told him something was off, but legally? No probable cause. He exchanged a look with Reeves.
The younger officer sighed, muttering under his breath, "Whole city's full of weirdos, did they all party together or something?"
They were about to turn away—until Martinez stopped, noticing something.
A trail of Blood. Drying. Leading to a door at the end of the hall.
Martinez knocked. "Police open up!"
Silence.
He knocked again.
A soft creak echoed from inside.
Reeves motioned for his gun, but before they could draw, the door swung open.
A girl stood there, her arm hastily bandaged, blood staining the gauze. She looked shaken, but not scared.
"Is… everything okay in here?" Martinez asked, voice steady. His eyes flicked past her, catching sight of a broken doorframe and a room that didn't look right.
Natalie sniffled—too soft, too unnatural. "I dont know. Please help I don't know what's going on."
Martinez's grip on his flashlight tightened. "Mind if we take a look inside?"
A pause.
Then—she stepped aside.
The officers stepped in.
Rain seeped through a shattered window in the back room, the wind whispering through the broken glass. The apartment smelled of metal—of something almost like rust, but sharper.
Reeves scanned the space, his jaw tightening. He nudged Martinez. "Sir. Look."
His eyes followed the motion.
Isaac's bedroom door was broken inward.
Martinez's instincts screamed at him.
"Miss, who else is here?"
Natalie didn't answer.
Then, from the shadows of the room, Isaac stepped forward.
His shirt was soaked in blood. His eyes—those red, burning eyes—locked onto them with inhuman hunger.
"Nice catch sis, carlos is going to love these two."
Reeves barely had time to shout before Isaac lunged.
The impact slammed the officer into the wall, his body cam catching the blur of movement, the flash of teeth—
Then the scream.
Martinez drew his gun, but Natalie was already behind him.
He fired—point-blank into Isaac's chest.
The red light in his eyes flickered.
Another shot.
Isaac staggered back.
A third.
Isaac collapsed to his knees, his breathing ragged—then, he began to dissolved ever so slowly into shadows. The body hit the floor, turning to black dust and crumbling off like ash. Before finally, vanishing as if he had never existed.
Martinez stared, his hands trembling.
"What the fu—"
Teeth sank into his ankle.
Reeves—his eyes red, his mouth dripping blood—had already turned.
Martinez screamed.
The body cam flickered—And the feed cut out.
Sophie ran.
Her bare feet slapped against the wet pavement, rain drenching her as she stumbled through the streets. The oversized T-shirt she'd stolen from Isaac's closet clinging to her skin.
Sophie's mind wandered as the memory clawed its way back— the frantic pounding on the locked door, the splintering wood, Isaac's laughter echoing through the thin walls. Natalie's voice, sickly sweet, coaxing her to 'just open up.' The way the hinges groaned, seconds from giving way.
She'd had no choice.
The window—her only way out—had been slick with rain, the glass already fractured from some past storm. She'd barely squeezed through before the door exploded inward—Carlos's snarl ripping through the air. A flash of red eyes, a flicker of shifting shadows—then the rush of cold wind as she plunged onto the fire escape. The jagged glass tore into her palms, warm blood mixing with the rain as she scrambled down, heart hammering. Above her, Carlos hesitated—his gaze snapping toward something inside the apartment. Something else had caught his attention."
She didn't look back.
That had been several hours ago and now she didn't know where she was going. She didn't care. She just had to tell someone. Anyone.
Headlights washed over her, tires screeching to a stop.
Two cops stepped out, weapons raised. "Whoa! Hey—what's going on?"
Sophie collapsed against the car. "They're MONSTERS!" she sobbed. "In the apartment—they killed them!"
The officers exchanged looks.
One of them, Officer Davis, exhaled sharply. "Alright, miss, slow down. Tell me your name first
"Sophie. Sophie Miller," she choked out. "I was brought here by another victim, then he turned too. You have to do something!"
Davis frowned, turning away to pull out his radio. "Dispatch, checking ID for a Sophie Miller—"
The radio crackled.
"Confirmed. Missing person. Transferring her back to Whittier PD."
Davis looked back at his partner, then back at Sophie as they talked.
"Alright, kid. Lets get you out of here."
Sophie's eyes went blank.
"No—NO! You don't understand! Please just listen too me!"
Davis sighed. "Calm down, miss. You'll be safe soon."
She wanted to scream. To fight. To make them listen. But she already knew how this would go. They never listened.
Back inside the Apartment, Natalie stood over the fallen officer.
Her fingers twitched.
She licked the blood from her lips.
Isaac was gone, but she still had two more to join Carlos.
But why was Reeves taking so long? He should be up by now.
She knelt down, tilting her head at the officer's twitching form.
His body convulsed.
His pupils burned red.
Natalie grinned.
"Welcome back."
Some ways away, eri had finally found her destination.
Cold rain dripped through the skeletal remains of what used to be a restaurant, pooling in the cracks of charred tile. The scent of soot, rusted metal, and old grease still clung to the ruined walls, the fire having erased all but fragments of what once stood here.
Mimi's Café.
Or what was left of it at least.
The neon sign had melted into warped plastic, half its letters unreadable. The roof had caved in at the center, leaving blackened beams jutting toward the sky like broken ribs.
Across the street, the 24-hour vr arcade still pulsed with artificial light, its glow flickering against the wet pavement. A few guests drifted in and out, oblivious to the ghosts across the street.
Mephisto stopped just outside the ruined doorway, trailing behind Eri and Marisol. His presence loomed, a heavy shadow against the rain.
His expression darkened. His hands rubbing his chest as if someone had shot him.
Eri caught it.
For the first time since they arrived—the smirks, the amusement, the casual cruelty—none of it was there.
Just something cold.
A sense of disbelief in his eyes.
It sent a tremor down her spine.
Eri paused in the doorway. "What is it?"
Mephisto's lips twitched. Then—gone. The look disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced with his usual lazy grin.
"Nothing," he murmured, but his hand still rested against his chest. "Let's keep moving. Wouldn't want our little savior catching cold."
Marisol shivered, from the cool morning air.
Inside the Restaurant
The kitchen was gutted.
Eri stared with a look of grand nostalgia. She could still make out the remnants of a countertop, half-burnt booths, and what was once a pastry display case, now just shards of melted glass and rusted metal.
Mephesto led her to the least-damaged corner—a booth with half its frame still intact. The cushions were singed, but at least it was something.
She layed Marisol down upon the cushions.
Her body lay there asleep, too exhausted to process anything beyond the lids of her eyes.
The shadow cat, which had been perched on Eri's shoulder the entire time, jumped down, stretching its inky limbs before curling around marisol.
She stiffened.
It pressed against her, its form flickering like living ink, shielding her from the cold air and damp surroundings.
For a moment, she stirred. Before returning to her slumber. lost in dreams, it was more than comforting … it was warm.
Mephisto exhaled, rubbing his neck. "I'll take first watch. You should relax. Maybe even get some sleep."
Eri scoffed. "Otherworlders don't need sleep."
Mephisto's grin twisted, amused. "Sure. And yet, I doubt that'll be a problem for you."
Eri glanced at Marisol, whose breathing had already begun to slow. A quiet, exhausted rhythm.
Without a word, she sat beside her.
Marisol shifted, unconsciously moving toward the warmth. Her head found a place against Eri's legs, curling into the space as if it had always been meant to be there.
Eri didn't move.
Didn't push her away.
Instead, she sighed, brushing a strand of wet hair from the girl's face.
Mephisto watched them both.
Then, with a knowing smirk, turned toward the entrance, staring into the night.