The night was dense, suffocating like a shroud of black smoke. The sky showed no stars, and not even the moon dared to appear. The streets were almost empty, but the silence was not peace—it was warning. Something in the air felt… out of place. Too alive.
In the middle of that void, four figures staggered along the poorly lit sidewalks, panting and drenched in sweat. They were the same ones who had faced the masked girl in the square. Now, they ran like wounded animals, even though no visible blood stained their bodies.
"This place…" said the smallest of them, the one leading the way. "This place is wrong. It feels like it's draining our strength…"
His voice came out hoarse, as if each word tore his throat apart.
Behind him, the other three only nodded with guttural, rhythmic sounds.
"Oh… oh… oh…"
Words were scarce between them, but their eyes—sunken, inhuman—spoke plenty. They were lost. Hungry. And above all… confused.
The faint streetlights flickered as if hesitating before them. And it was in that unstable environment that a common car appeared on the street—too fast, too distracted.
The driver had no time to brake.
With a brutal impact, the four were thrown like rag dolls, scattered across the asphalt. The sharp sound of the crash echoed through the street, followed by shattered glass and the muffled scream of the panicked driver. The car stopped, smoking, its front end wrecked.
Inside, the man put his hands on his head, trembling. He was about to run. But he never got the chance.
Two black SUVs sped onto the scene, flanking a third luxury car—low, chromed, opulent. Dark windows. Tires that seemed to glide silently. A security convoy in the middle of the city.
The driver of the common car looked at the convoy in fright, but before he could cry for help, his attention was seized by the bodies on the ground. They were moving.
They were standing.
Slow, but firm. The four strangers rose, staggering, their clothes torn, their skin marked… but there was no pain in their eyes. Only fury. And emptiness. A kind of cold darkness.
They advanced on the car that had hit them as if it were made of paper. With bare hands, they smashed the hood, ripped off the doors, shattered the windows with fists and elbows. The vehicle was destroyed in less than three minutes, swallowed by the sound of tortured metal.
The driver screamed for help.
That was when the bodyguards stepped out of the black SUVs.
With trained, precise movements, they surrounded the wounded man, brandishing silver, gleaming weapons. When the four drew closer, the shots rang out.
The sound of the gunfire tore through the night like dry lightning.
The four collapsed.
Everything stopped.
The bodyguards lowered their weapons, surprised by the effectiveness of the action. One of them even risked a comment.
"What kind of junkies were these?"
But the answer came in silence.
They stood up again.
The same four, bleeding, marked… rose once more. The bullets had pierced them, but not brought them down. Their hollow eyes were darker now. Hungrier. The leader did not grunt like the others. He only looked. And smiled.
One of the guards tried to raise his weapon again, but a voice stopped him.
"Stop."
It came from the middle car.
The door opened, revealing a tall, slender man dressed in black from head to toe. Dark glasses, even in total darkness. The streetlights flickered again, as if they too recognized him.
There was something… wrong about him. Or perhaps too right, depending on which side one stood.
The voice that spoke was calm, even polite. But it carried too much authority to be disobeyed.
"Don't shoot them. They did nothing wrong."
He stepped forward with slow strides, staring at the four beings before him.
The leader among them returned the gaze. Something pulsed between the two. An invisible, but undeniable connection.
An echo.
A recognition.
Not words, but intentions. The kind of thing one is not taught—it is born with.
The man from the car smiled. A cold, discreet, calculated smile.
"They are interesting…" he murmured. "Bring them with me. Now."
The guards hesitated but obeyed. Even without understanding, they did not question. The four strangers were taken—the three dragged, still groggy and unstable. But the leader… he went of his own will.
Before entering the car, he looked one last time at the man in black. And there, in silence, he made his own promise:
"I will understand who you are. Because maybe… we are made of the same metal."
The cars disappeared into the night, like ghosts swallowed by the fog.
The city remained asleep. Ignorant of what had just happened.
But for those who could feel… something had changed.
Shadowed Reality
The black cars slowed to a halt before an abandoned warehouse at the end of a forgotten road. The silence of the place was strange… as if even the crickets avoided that stretch of the world. The sky, dark and covered by heavy clouds, seemed to press down on the earth, smothering the air. Only the headlights cut through the darkness, casting distorted shadows on the cracked concrete walls.
The vehicles' doors opened almost at the same time, in an unsettling synchronicity. The first to step out was the leader of the four strangers. His trembling body seemed to strain under immense internal pressure… until he suddenly straightened.
Then, he changed.
The skin began to writhe. Bones cracked. Flesh stretched and tore parts of his clothes, revealing a new form—a bipedal creature over two meters tall, muscular like a predator in rage. His body resembled that of a jackal, but with exaggerated, brutal proportions. Black fur shimmered under the headlights, and the face—entirely animal, with small, gleaming eyes—radiated cold cruelty, like that of an experienced hunter.
Janckal—that was how he would be remembered by those who survived meeting him.
From the luxury car, the man in dark glasses watched the transformation. Despite his elegant posture and unshaken face, his tense fingers betrayed his apprehension. The bodyguards, less composed, instinctively raised their weapons. The click of the safeties releasing echoed too loudly in the dead silence.
But the man raised his hand with glacial calm.
"Calm yourselves. No one is here for a war."
The voice came out firm. Cold. And, for some reason, no one dared to contradict him.
Janckal glared at the man with suspicion. A low growl rumbled from his animal throat.
"Why did you save me?" The question came as a veiled threat.
The man smiled slowly. Controlled. Dangerous.
"Because I think you and I… have something in common."
Janckal's gaze narrowed. He turned to his fallen companions, still weak and disoriented. The transformation, though controlled, seemed not to have affected his body as much as the others'. Perhaps because of his colder mind… or the malice that kept him alert even in pain.
"Block Sock! Tru Fant! Dray Kee!" His voice thundered like muffled storm. "Get up! Stop acting like cowardly little girls!"
The three moved slowly, staggering, dragging their feet like broken puppets. Even larger and seemingly stronger than Janckal—the bulk under their heavy clothes suggested as much—they were clearly debilitated. Something was affecting them more deeply… an invisible weakness that drained their strength, as if the place itself, or perhaps the presence of that man, was consuming them from within.
Janckal knew it. And that was why he abused his authority.
He was the most intelligent. The only one who could still think clearly.
And that made him the most cruel among them.
The three subordinates drew closer, forming a clumsy circle around their leader, still panting. The dark clothes they wore covered almost everything—gloves, hoods, heavy collars. No skin could be seen. Nothing could be heard but heavy breathing and the faint creak of hidden joints. The clothes seemed to contain… more than just bodies.
As they all walked together toward the entrance of the warehouse, the mysterious man led with serene steps. But a discreet, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips. A cruel smile. Calculating. Mad.
He craved power.
And now, he had four creatures he barely understood… but intended to use.
Janckal sensed it.
And even as a feared beast… he knew how to recognize another monster when he saw one.