The night air was heavy with the stench of rot and decay, the faint flicker of distant fires casting grotesque shadows over the ruined town. Jed slumped against a crumbling wall, his breaths shallow and uneven. He dragged a hand over his face, freezing as his skin felt slick, cold, and alien to the touch.
"Shit," he muttered, a flicker of unease creeping into his voice. "My body feels weird. Like it ain't mine anymore."
Charlie crouched next to him, his face twisting in irritation as he tugged at his sweat-soaked shirt. "Damn it. I stink like something crawled outta hell, died, then rotted just for the hell of it."
Jed shot him a sharp look, despite his weakened state. "You always gotta paint the ugliest damn picture?" He gestured vaguely toward the shadows pooling beyond the wreckage. "Now ain't the time to worry about smellin' bad, kid. Those things out there ain't gonna wait for us to shower."
Before Charlie could bite back, a smooth voice cut through the eerie silence like the scrape of a knife. "He's right," the voice drawled, rich with mocking amusement. "You can't afford to worry about yourselves—though I doubt that'll change the outcome."
Both men stiffened, turning toward the sound. A man stepped into view, his presence cutting through the darkness like a blade. His figure was immaculate, a grotesque contradiction to the ruin around him. A tailored black frock coat clung perfectly to his frame, paired with an elegant waistcoat and a high-collared dress shirt that gleamed in the faint light. His gloves were pristine, the leather supple and unblemished. Even his polished boots seemed untouched by the muck and ash of the crumbling town.
Yet it was his face that sent the real chill crawling up Jed's spine. Smooth, pale skin, almost waxen, stretched tight over sharp, predatory features. His lips curled into a smile that was all teeth, devoid of warmth. But it was his eyes—cold, calculating, lit with an unnatural glint—that pinned Jed and Charlie to their spots.
"Isn't it beautiful?" the man murmured, his voice silken with false reverence. He spread his arms, as if unveiling a masterpiece. "This town, these people. My finest work."
Jed's lip curled as he forced himself upright, leaning heavily on the wall. "This mess? You call that work? Looks like somethin' a dog'd bury and forget."
The man chuckled, soft and cold. "You've got a sharp tongue, I'll grant you that. But I assure you, what you see before you is the result of unparalleled ingenuity. You see, during the war—the Civil War, in fact—I was a healer. A doctor. At least, that's what they called me." He began to pace leisurely, his polished boots clicking against the broken cobblestones. "But I wasn't interested in *healing.* I was interested in progress. In perfection."
Charlie's face twisted in disgust. "You sound like every other twisted asshole who thinks killin' folks is some kinda art form. News flash, pal—it ain't."
The man stopped, turning toward Charlie with an amused tilt of his head. "Oh, you misunderstand. I don't kill indiscriminately. No, that would be wasteful. Each life I take—each *experiment*—is a step closer to the pinnacle of human evolution." He gestured to the faint shuffling sounds in the distance, where shadows twisted and shifted unnaturally. "You've seen my work already, haven't you? The creatures you call monsters? They are the future."
Jed spat at the ground, his glare icy. "Call 'em what you want. Ain't nothin' evolved about rippin' folks apart and leavin' a town lookin' like this."
The man's smile widened, as if savoring Jed's defiance. "You're entitled to your opinion. But consider this: these people came to this town desperate for hope. I gave them hope. And through their sacrifice, they've become something more."
Charlie scoffed, his hands tightening into fists. "You mean you tricked them into dyin' for your sick little hobby. Hope my uncle shoots you before I get the chance."
Jed shifted unsteadily, his eyes narrowing. "Enough of this talk. What the hell do you want from us?"
The man—Poe, he finally introduced himself with a low bow—smiled sharply. "What I *want* is already happening." He pointed toward Jed, whose hand trembled visibly as he braced against the wall. "You're feeling it, aren't you? The change."
Jed's breath hitched, his voice low and strained. "Kid… somethin' ain't right."
Charlie turned to him, alarm flashing in his eyes. "Jed? What're you talkin' about?" He grabbed Jed's arm, recoiling at the unnatural heat radiating from his skin. "You're burnin' up! What's happening?"
Poe chuckled softly, taking a step closer, his gloved hands clasped behind his back. "Ah, it's such a beautiful thing to witness. You see, even the smallest scratch from one of my creations is enough to begin the transformation." He tilted his head, his gaze flickering with clinical curiosity. "And you, my dear sir, are proving to be quite a promising subject."
Jed's body convulsed violently, a strangled growl ripping from his throat. His muscles bulged grotesquely, his skin paling and cracking as veins twisted beneath the surface. His hands clawed at the dirt, but they were no longer human hands—elongated fingers, tipped with razor-sharp talons, dug into the earth.
Charlie stumbled back, his voice cracking with desperation. "Jed! Fight it! Don't let this bastard win!"
Jed snarled, his glowing purple eyes snapping to Charlie. For a moment, something human flickered in his gaze. His voice, weak and distorted, broke through the growls. "Kid… run…"
Poe's laughter rang out, cold and triumphant. "Run? Oh no, boy. Stay and watch. Witness the birth of perfection."
Jed let out a guttural roar and lunged—not at Charlie, but at Poe. His claws slashed through the air as his monstrous form barreled toward the man. For the briefest moment, the remnants of his humanity seemed to guide his rage.
Poe sidestepped gracefully, his expression calm, almost bored. "Ah, yes. The last remnants of resistance. But it won't last."
Charlie's trembling hands hovered over his revolver. "Jed… please tell me you're still in there."
Jed's only response was a deep, guttural growl, his glowing, feral eyes locking on Poe like a predator answering its master's call. His hulking form moved toward the man, unsteady at first, but with growing purpose, his clawed hands flexing as if testing their newfound strength.
Charlie's stomach turned as he watched the horrifying transformation unfold, his mind racing to make sense of what was happening. His fists clenched, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Damn it," he spat, his voice low and trembling with anger..
And then, the shadows began to shift.
From the darkness, a hulking figure emerged—Jose. His monstrous form loomed, grotesque and unrecognizable, his twisted body a horrifying amalgamation of flesh and bone. His movements were jerky, unnatural, as though he were a puppet on invisible strings.
But Jose was only the beginning.
More of them followed, crawling and shambling out of the gloom. Their grotesque forms were a chilling reminder of Poe's handiwork—misshapen bodies, glowing eyes, and the low, guttural growls of creatures that had once been human. They moved with a grotesque parody of reverence, circling Poe like loyal disciples.
Poe stood at the center of the horde, his black coat billowing lightly in the wind. His pale face broke into a wide grin as he spread his arms, as though he were welcoming an adoring crowd. "Now," he declared, his voice resonating with an air of finality, "I can't be stopped."
Reaching into his coat, he produced something small and glimmering. The faint, otherworldly glow of a **Holy Crystal** spilled across his gloved fingers, casting eerie, shifting shadows over his sharp features.
Charlie froze, his breath catching in his throat. His voice faltered, trembling. "W-what? You… you found it?"
Poe's smirk deepened as he held the crystal aloft, its light illuminating his cold, calculating eyes. "Yes," he said simply, savoring the weight of the moment. "And soon, there will be another. In Mexico, waiting for me. It's only a matter of time before I claim it as well."
He trailed off, his expression shifting into something almost serene, as though he were envisioning a future only he could see. "When that happens… perfection will no longer be confined to this miserable town."
Charlie's hands trembled as his eyes remained fixed on the crystal, its glow reflected in his wide, horrified stare. For the first time in the chaos, a flicker of doubt crossed his face.
The monsters growled low, their forms closing in around Poe like a grotesque wall of protection.
Charlie's breath came quick and shallow, his mind a whirlwind of desperation and anger. His eyes flicked between Jed, now standing menacingly at Poe's side, and the smug expression plastered on the man's pale, marble-like face. An idea sparked in the back of his mind—reckless, absurd, but it was all he had left.
He took a slow step forward, hands raised slightly, trying to mask the trembling in his fingers. "Poe," he began, his voice steady but cold. "You're all about this 'peak human' nonsense, huh?"
Poe arched a brow, his smile faltering just slightly. "Nonsense?" he repeated, his tone dangerously low. "Careful with your words, boy."
Charlie ignored the warning, his lips curling into a bitter smirk. "No, seriously. You think you've cracked the code, made somethin' better than human. Hell, you're proud of it, ain't you?"
Poe's smile returned, slow and deliberate. "Pride is a sin, boy, but yes. My creations are perfection—flawless improvements over the flawed clay we were all born from."
Charlie barked a humorless laugh, taking another step forward. "Flawless, huh? Then why the hell are you still standin' there? If you're so smart, so damn enlightened, why haven't you made yourself one of 'em?"
That hit a nerve. Poe's smile vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp glare. "Because I don't need to," he said evenly, though there was an edge to his voice now. "I am already beyond them. I am their creator, their architect. They serve me."
Charlie snorted, shaking his head. "Nah, that's a cop-out. You're scared."
Poe's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "Scared?"
"Yeah," Charlie pressed, stepping closer, his tone dripping with mockery. "You don't wanna admit it, but deep down, you know you ain't as perfect as you want people to think. Sure, you can sit back and play god, but you ain't got the guts to walk the walk. You're afraid to take that leap."
Poe's gloved hand twitched at his side, his icy demeanor cracking ever so slightly. "Careful, boy. You're treading dangerous ground."
Charlie pushed on, his voice rising. "What's dangerous about the truth? If you were really the peak of humanity, you'd have already done it! But you haven't, 'cause you know there's a chance it'll turn you into one of them—into somethin' weak, somethin' broken. Ain't that right, Poe?"
The air between them grew tense, the faint crackling of distant fires the only sound. Poe's expression darkened, his gaze boring into Charlie with murderous intent.
"You think you can rattle me with childish taunts?" Poe said, his voice venomous. "I am far beyond the petty insecurities of mortal men."
"Then prove it," Charlie shot back, his voice like a whip crack. "If you're so far beyond us, if you're the perfect mind, the perfect body—then prove it! Take that step and show me you're not just some coward hiding behind your monsters!"
For a long, agonizing moment, Poe said nothing. His expression was unreadable, his pale face like a statue carved from ice. Finally, he let out a soft, chilling laugh.
"You're amusing," he said, his tone low and dangerous. "But even you must know how foolish you sound. To risk my perfection for the sake of your petty accusations? Hardly worth my time."
Charlie shrugged, trying to appear unfazed despite the hammering of his heart. "Suit yourself. Guess you ain't as perfect as you think, then."
Poe's lips twitched, his hand clenching into a fist. "You're testing my patience, boy."
"And you're provin' my point," Charlie shot back, his tone razor-sharp. "All that talk about perfection, and you're too damn scared to back it up. Guess you're just as human as the rest of us after all."
Poe's fury was palpable, his thin veneer of control threatening to shatter. He turned, his gaze flicking toward the glowing Holy Crystal in his hand. For a brief moment, doubt flickered across his face.
"Do it," Charlie pressed, his voice softer now but no less insistent. "Show me what perfection really looks like. Or admit you're nothin' but a fraud."
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, as Poe stared at the crystal. Finally, he exhaled slowly, his lips curling into a cold, humorless smile.
"You're bold, I'll give you that," he murmured, more to himself than to Charlie. "But don't think for a second this changes anything."
With a sudden, deliberate motion, Poe reached into his coat and drew a sleek revolver, its polished barrel catching the dim firelight. His pale, marble-like face was a mask of eerie calm as he pressed the barrel against his temple.
"If perfection is what you desire, boy," he said, his voice a low, almost reverent murmur, "then perfection you shall witness."
Charlie's heart skipped a beat, his bravado faltering. "Wait—what the hell are you—"
Before he could finish, Poe pulled the trigger.
The deafening crack of the gunshot echoed through the ruined town, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Poe's body jerked violently, his pristine attire stained as dark crimson trickled down his temple. he collapse to the ground