The creature's screech split the night—a raw, primal cry of agony—as the taser darts bit into its hide. Electric current surged through its sinewy frame, jerking it into a frenzied spasm. Yet RSCP-003 shook off the torment with unnatural ease, its eyes narrowing with contempt, dismissing the humans as little more than pests.
Chief Aomorii, undaunted and pride bruised but unbroken, advanced. Her steps were precise, each movement a blend of stealth and unwavering resolve. She closed the gap—fourteen meters. Her arm braced, forearm pad locked into place, she fired. The shot cracked through the chaos, striking true. The beast let out a guttural grunt, its pain echoing across the war-torn street. But even that—precision, force, timing—wasn't enough.
Their second attempt had failed.
Gunfire. Sedatives. Useless.
Its healing was too fast. Its endurance, almost unholy.
If they were going to bring this thing down, they'd need more than weapons. They needed a way to stop it cold.
But hope... hope was a fragile thing.
The Kaiju roared, its scream a chilling symphony of fury and pain. With terrifying speed, it lashed its tail. The strike hit Aomorii dead-on, slamming her into the concrete wall with bone-cracking force. The impact carved a crater into the stone. Dust and debris swirled around her crumpled form as she gasped for air, her ribs aflame with agony.
This thing wouldn't be captured easily. It wouldn't surrender. Not without a war.
Staggering to her feet, her face pale beneath the streetlights' harsh glow, Aomorii steadied herself. Shadows etched her features, and her dark curls clung to her skin, drenched in sweat and blood. Four deep scars ran from her right ear to her left collarbone—reminders of past encounters. And yet, her beauty remained, unbowed by the cruelty of war.
She'd fought this monster before.
She knew she'd fight it again.
The creature barreled down the street, clawed limbs tearing through steel and stone. A vicious swipe arced toward her—Aomorii ducked low, pivoting with the poise of a seasoned predator. She fired another barrage of taser darts. Sparks danced across the creature's armored hide, but it shrugged them off, advancing with lethal grace.
Still, she adapted.
Timing. Rhythm. Weak points.
She struck fast—jabs charged with electric bursts. The beast reeled from each one, sizzling darts embedded in its flesh, hissing as they discharged. It staggered, disoriented by the relentless shock.
She didn't stop.
Thirty-two darts and counting.
The monster thrashed, limbs flailing, but Aomorii danced through the chaos, an elemental force made flesh. Then came her opening.
She surged forward, springing onto its back. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she held firm, clawing her way up its ridged spine toward the vulnerable spot at its neck. She drew the sedative—thick, powerful, fast-acting—and jammed it deep into the Kaiju's flesh.
The beast howled.
It bucked violently. Her grip slipped. A whip of its tail hurled her to the ground.
She hit hard.
Stars bloomed in her vision, pain blooming across her body like wildfire. But she didn't stop watching. Didn't stop hoping. The sedative—amplified by electricity—was working.
Now or never.
Gritting her teeth, she rose.
She reached out—felt the earth beneath her. Broken concrete, shattered asphalt, rubble soaked in blood. The rocks obeyed her call. They rose to her palm, trembling with latent force.
She moved. A blur. A shadow in the flickering light.
Once more, she leapt onto the beast's back. With a ferocious cry, she brought the stones down hard onto its skull. The crack echoed like thunder. The Kaiju roared, staggered, stumbled.
Then it dropped.
The snarls faded.
Silence.
Victory.
Chief Aomorii stood over the unconscious body of RSCP-003, her chest heaving, her limbs trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline. Her hand reached for her comms.
Her voice—cool, steady, laced with fury—broke the silence. "RSCP-003, captured and ready for containment."
She disconnected.
And with a final, deliberate stomp, she crushed the beast's face into the dust.
Her brown eyes glowed—not with triumph, but with something darker. Old grief. Deep hate. The kind of fire that never dies.
Behind her, the city groaned and smoked.
The victory had come at a price. Lives lost. Families shattered. Blood soaking the streets. But for now, it was a win.
And she was already preparing for the next one.
She turned to the ruins, her voice sharp and unwavering. "And now, onto the next one."
---
Meanwhile...
The world trembles. Blisters at the edges. Chaos bleeds through the seams of reality.
Darkness curls around me, choking, absolute.
Screams.
Laughter.
Noise. So much noise I can't breathe.
Am I breathing?
A scream tears from my throat—raw and guttural—as memories crash down like waves. I'm drowning. Lost in a flood of pain and time.
The past drags me down, down into a lightless pit where nothing is real and everything hurts. Where waking and dreaming blur like ink in water.
Then—sunlight.
Harsh. Blinding.
It burns through the fog.
Kiel's eyes snapped open.
He gasped, chest heaving, drenched in sweat. The dream still clung to him, shadows clawing at the edges of his mind.
In a blind panic, he lurched upright—only for a frying pan to come swinging at his head.
CRACK!
Stars.
Pain.
He collapsed backward.
A dazed groan escaped him as the blurry outline of someone equally confused loomed above, frying pan still raised and trembling.
"...Sorry?"