The sky was an ominous expanse, with clouds racing overhead as if fleeing from an impending doom. One member of the taskforce lingered behind to secure the perimeter while the Foundation's cleanup crew moved in, sweeping the scene with clinical precision and administering amnestics to any lingering witnesses. Meanwhile, the remaining agents sprinted into the storm, their adrenaline high, senses sharp—their chase was far from over.
The dispatch center crackled to life.
"All units, be advised—we've just lost Unit 6. Backup en route. Reports of unusual activity at an apartment complex, quarter klick north. Potential fatalities. RSCP-003 is in an extremely hostile state. Engage with extreme caution. Over."
"Copy that. Unit 10-5 reporting a sighting on Hill Road, southbound."
The officer, perched on a rooftop, spotted a reptilian giant tearing through the streets below. With no hesitation, he launched his grappling hook, swinging across the gap like a specter in pursuit.
The team moved fast, cutting through the night toward the source of the screams. The air grew heavy, electric with tension. A guttural, inhuman growl echoed off alley walls—a haunting sound that stopped hearts mid-beat. Somewhere ahead, the apex predator they hunted was waiting.
"Unit 5, it's turning off Oakridge!"
Another voice snapped through the intercom, tracking the creature's erratic path.
The breach had become a full-blown catastrophe. The higher-ups would soon scramble to contain the aftermath—repairs, cover stories, the sorrowful paperwork of ten confirmed civilian deaths. But none of it mattered now. The priority was simple: contain 003 or more would die.
The team reached the entry point. A door had been shredded—massive claw marks etched into the splinters like warning signs from hell. Inside, the hallway was a bloodbath. Three bodies. Ravaged. Mutilated. No time to mourn. The officers pressed forward, weapons ready.
Freed from its containment, RSCP-003 was thriving. For every minute it roamed, lives were lost.
A gruesome trail led them onward—blood smeared across floors and walls, claw gouges scarring the tile. It had gone up the stairwell, each step marked by violence. The team ascended in silence.
At the rooftop door—shattered and dangling from broken hinges—they paused.
The silence beyond was unnatural.
Then, they found them. Two more officers. Torn apart. These weren't kills for hunger; these were executions—vicious and personal.
Then came the screech.
"Unit alert! Hold position! I repeat—do not engage!"
Chief Aomorii's voice cut like steel through static. She emerged from the shadows, her coat snapping in the wind. In one smooth motion, she unsheathed three ceremonial daggers etched with ancient runes and hurled them with deadly grace. Had the creature been still, it would have died where it stood.
But RSCP-003 was faster.
Its tail snapped into motion, deflecting the daggers with inhuman precision. The blades embedded into the rooftop wall, sparks flickering off old brick. The beast roared—a sound that tore at the soul—and leapt into the darkness, narrowly evading a second volley.
The Stonehaven police weren't amateurs, but they were up against a nightmare.
"Dispatch, we have additional sightings coming from Rezah," came the next report.
"All available officers are already in pursuit," Aomorii responded, her voice raw with strain. She pulled a dagger from the wall and stared at it. "God help us all," she whispered.
For days, the creature had left a wake of bodies behind—facility guards, civilians, even Foundation agents. Now it was loose in the heart of the city.
Chief Aomorii was a legend in her own right. The first to enter battle, the last to retreat. For generations, her family had hunted anomalies, their legacy forged in secrecy and sacrifice. She bore that legacy now, blade in hand.
An hour into the hunt, the city burned. Whole blocks reduced to rubble. The skies above hummed with airships. Their floodlights pierced the dark, illuminating the abomination below.
RSCP-003 thundered down an alley. Just as it turned the corner, a wall of stone erupted from the ground, cutting off its escape. It veered right—but too late. A volley of electricity-charged projectiles slammed into its torso, staggering the beast.
The creature reeled, screeching as the airships' lights bathed it in harsh white. Its form was grotesque—an amalgam of nightmare and mockery.
Its head was spherical, crowned with a gaping maw lined in dagger-like teeth. A forked tongue flicked out, tasting the chaos. Its nose was swollen and misshapen, an absurdly monstrous feature on an otherwise reptilian horror. Its arms ended in saber-like claws, twitching with unrelenting malice. Its skin, a rotting green hue, hung like warped silk over muscle and bone. Ears on twitching stalks caught every sound. And its tail—a massive, six-foot whip—moved with a terrifying intelligence of its own.
Aomorii didn't flinch.
"Larger they are," she whispered.
She took the shot.
TWIP.
The projectile hit true—followed by a second, and a third.
"The harder they fall."
The final battle had begun.