The year's 2039, and I'm about to die. I don't know how long I have left, but I know it's going to happen, and I can't escape it. My name's Bryan Cyon, and I'm a reporter for the Counsil City Press, taking snapshots of whatever qualifies as important to my bosses. My week has been a sporadic mess that only really started a few nights ago.

I was fast asleep in my little apartment until my boss called me sometime around 12:30 at night. I could barely remember what he said, but he told me something about getting a signal from the police claiming to have found another dead body in an alleyway-the tenth one in a week-and that he needed photos of the body or else. Despite feeling groggy after having a little too much gin a few hours prior, I had to comply; I needed the money, even if it was a barely minimum wage. Putting the phone down, I scratched my shaggy, bearded chin and got out of bed. I combed my spikey, brown hair and put on my usual clothes: brown jacket, standard self-lace tennis shoes, a black Demon Slayer T-shirt-my favorite TV series-and some jeans that had a big hole in the right side that exposed my knee. As soon as my vision fully cleared, I got outside to rev up my hover-cycle and bolted toward the crime scene, camera strapped around my neck.

Over the years, technology started becoming more integrated into everyday life, even managing to take over some jobs. Gone were clerks, waiters, and even police chiefs; it was now ClerkBot 245, or Cop Droid 28X6. It's only a matter of time before I'm replaced by some flying camera robot.

On the surface, the city of Counsil looks gorgeous, especially at night, with giant skyscrapers, bright, blue lights, and cool flying vehicles. The ground level, however, is a different story. Counsil's a hellhole consisting of criminals, crooked politicians, rich businesses, and machines that either work, break easily, or literally blow up in people's faces. I would move, but I'm short on cash, so I couldn't even do it if I tried. Besides, moving's hard work, and I prefer having to never do it again.

Once I got to the scene of the crime, I saw some police bots surrounding the alleyway searching for any traces of DNA. I got off my hover-cycle and walked toward the robots, pushing them aside; I had to get a good shot, and those tin cans were in the way. As I shoved the robots aside, I saw a bright spotlight shining on the ground that came from a police bot; at least I knew where the body was. While I couldn't see the body clearly enough, I was able to recognize the backside of one of the few human police officers still serving the force: an old friend of mine, Vivian Potch.

She had red hair, pale skin, and wore a black trench coat over her standard blue police uniform. But the biggest part of Vivian that always catches people's attention is her eyepatch. I don't know what happened to her left eye; some say it was an accident, others say she got the Moe Greene Special during a case gone sour. Either way, it made her look tough, and that's all that mattered to me.

Vivian was standing in front of the body, looking at it for clues. She took her eyes away from the corpse and looked at me. Her eye lit up.

"Long time no see Bryan. How's Counsil Press serving you?" I walked over to her, camera in hand.

"Alright. Though I would have preferred it if this murder had happened at 5 pm instead."

"Yeah, though I would have preferred it if it didn't happen at all, but that's just me." I sighed in response.

"Anyway, what happened?"

"Take a look for yourself." Vivian moved aside to show me the body. The brightly lit mess of a corpse was a sight to behold. I tried to hold back vomit, though given how many times I've seen dead bodies the past few weeks, it wasn't a whole lot. The corpse was that of a fat, middle-aged man with balding hair and a stubble.

"As you can clearly see," she said with her usual stoic professional tone of voice, "the victim's right arm has been severed by a bladed weapon." I pulled out my camera and took some photos, particularly of the stub; more blood means more copies of CCP papers sold.

"The victim has been identified as Cypress O'Hill, a machine designer who made a profit off of designing androids for various companies. O'Hill's body has about seven cuts on it, which appear to have been made from a small knife, probably retractable. And If you look around the body, you'll notice some glass shards. O'Hill seems to have fallen out of his own apartment. Neighbors say he lived on the fourth floor."

I looked up to see an open, broken window.

"Suicide?" I asked.

"I doubt it. See, if you look closely on the body's neck, you can find some initials that spell out 'SR.'"

"I've seen these initials on the past ten victims I've photographed. What do you think it means?" I said, confused.

"No clue. This is the third body I've covered, and they all look the same. It's more than likely the work of a serial killer, one who seems to have a fondness for collecting right arms."

After that little spiel, in came Officer Pennyworth, another human on the force, one that I wish would just quit already.

"Cyon! What's a lousy reporter like you doing here?"

"Investigating sir, along with Ms. Potch right here." I said, as I attempted to prevent my face from turning into a scowl.

"No need for someone of your kind Mr. CCN news! It's very clear that this man right here just so happened to cut off his arm by accident and jump out of the building. Clearly, he realized his mistake and couldn't live with his condition. I know I wouldn't, especially on Friday nights." As usual, he was the only one who laughed at his own jokes.

"Sir," I said in a grouchy tone, "if that's the case, how do you explain the mark on his neck?" Pennyworth sneered at the initials and looked towards me.

"We're working on it." My fists started clenching.

"That's what you said last week!" I angrily shouted.

"Look son, cases like this can't be solved in three days. These take time, even with the technology we currently have in our disposal." What a load of crap. We had machines that could solve even the toughest of murders. Either Pennyworth was just that incompetent, or he was trying to challenge himself, probably even trying to fuel his already enormous ego.

Pennyworth blew the whistle attached to his necklace, which gave the order for the robots to head back to base. Pennyworth even kicked one of the bots on the way to his hover-cop car. Me and Vivian just looked at each other, frowns on both of our faces, and headed back home.


The next night, I got another phone call that dragged me out of Dreamland. It was my boss, who told me, once again, that another body has been found by the police, and to get better photos; the ones from the previous night weren't detailed or "exciting" enough, which just meant that I needed to shoot more bloody, violent photos of the victim's junk or something. I did the usual routine of scratching, shaving, and shirting before hightailing it to the crime scene: this time located once again outside an alleyway.

When I arrived, it was business as usual, with more cop bots searching for evidence and DNA getting in the way of the corpse. Thankfully, I saw Vivian, and we both shook hands. She told me about how the victim-this time a homeless person-had the same severed arm and initial scribbled on neck like the previous bodies, but the man was instead killed in the alleyway near us via repeated stabbing in the chest area-where he finally died when the knife penetrated his heart-and put up on display for the entirety of Counsil to see.

"How odd," I said.

"Indeed. It's as if this killer is trying to tell us something."

"But what could it mean?" I said as I took out my camera and took extreme close-ups of the victim's stub, face, and trail of blood.

"Damned if I know. I know I seem to say that every time you ask me that question, but I'm being serious. I just don't know. And I know every time I say that Officer Pennyworth shows up to demean you."

Speak of the Devil.

"What's going on here? Who is this man lying on the ground, and why should journalists like yourself care about people like him?" The Officer shouted as he got up in my face, "He could have been dealing drugs, and his customer got violent after being given something like watered down coke. That'll show him for dealing with crappy narcotics."

I was steaming mad. What he said made no sense at all. It wasn't even English. How could someone with such a high authority have so little regard for human life? I so wanted him to be the killer, I just wanted him to be it. I wanted to be given an excuse to shove my fist in his face and watch him fall. But in the middle of my steaming rage, a lightbulb went off in my head.

Using my camera, I zoomed in on the mark of the neck and took a photo. Scrolling through the previous photos I took of the various markings, I started comparing them with this recent one. Something just wasn't right. I turned my gaze towards Vivian, who got on the passenger side of her cop car after hearing something from her superiors via radio. She looked annoyed as she stared at the automatic driver by her side, telling her that because of her condition, she forbidden from driving.

"Vivian!" I shouted. She rolled the car window down.

"Make it snappy, we found another corpse under the bridge, possibly missing another arm."

"Take a look at this." I showed her the initial photos on my camera.

"It's just the mark. What is it that you're trying to show me?"

"Take a closer look." I compared tonight's mark with the various other marks. "This marking is written differently compared to the previous ones.

"One's handwriting isn't always going to be the same."

"But Vivian, the different handwriting, the sudden increase in random victims, the different ways tonight's victim has been killed compared to the previous couple of night's… Don't you get it? There's not one serial killer; there's several!"

Vivian stared at me for a good few seconds, her eye not once blinking.

"Meet me at my Shabrone apartment. I'm on floor 3, room 362, and my code is 4352." She rolled the window back up, and the car headed toward the bridge.


I parked my hover-cycle and walked inside Vivian's tiny apartment. Following her directions, I dialed the number on her keypad and opened the door. Vivian's room, as expected, was pretty tiny; it was just a single hallway, but one side had a small kitchen, the other side had a bed, and the end had a bathroom containing just a toilet and a sink. I walked over to Vivian's small bed and plopped myself onto it, hoping she wouldn't mind. I started to doze off, not haven gotten much sleep since the day these murders started. I started dreaming about how I was able to flawlessly make it to the university I've always wanted to go to; as a depressed college dropout, this vision seemed like a cruel joke.

My dream was ultimately interrupted when Vivian shook me awake.

"Come on Sandman, tell me more about this theory of yours." She walked over to her beanbag chair and sat on it. "You sure there's more than one killer?"

I nodded my dreary head.

"The different handwriting on that wall-victim's neck. It was different from the previous bodies I took pictures of."

"Are you sure that this isn't just the killer messing with our heads? Maybe he's just trying to pin the blame on someone else?"

"But there were two victims tonight, one announced right after the other. A killer doesn't work that fast, especially when the second body was found on the other side of town."

"The killer could have had a transport vehicle like a hover-cycle or car. Besides, the body we both checked was found hours after the victim had been murdered."

"But the different method of killing-"

"The killer could be changing his M.O. just to lose us."

I didn't have any way to back my ideas. Vivian was a professional cop, and I was just some low-life reporter looking for a quick buck. I sighed and got up.

"This case has been going on for weeks. People are getting killed even as we speak. Do you want to find out who did this, or not?" Vivian looked away, her mouth forming a frown. "I've known you for twelve years. Do you trust me?" I extended my hand toward her.

Vivian sighed, stood up, and grabbed my hand, shaking it.

"Okay. I'll go with this. But, if we're looking to prove your hypothesis, we need to find out the killers' pattern. Who does he typically kill, and where?"

"Well," I responded, "these killers seem to kill anyone as they please, whether it be the homeless, businessmen, or even a store clerk a few nights ago. I know the bodies are usually found near alleyways." Vivian snapped her fingers.

"Bait!" she exclaimed.

"Bait?" I responded accordingly.

"There's a back alleyway near this apartment, and we can use a decoy to lure the killer into a trap. After that, we can bring him in for interrogation."

"Great!" I said, "Got any mannequins or blow up dolls to use as bait?"

"Who said I was using dolls?" she said, raising her right eyebrow as she stared at me. I gulped in response, knowing exactly what she was thinking.


What felt like 20 minutes later, I was standing in the back alleyway near Vivian's apartment, and wasn't allowed to move. I thought this was ridiculous; I was her friend, yet she was using me as bait for a killer who could very well murder me. I turned my head left to glare at Vivian, who was hiding behind some garbage cans, pistol holstered in her large, black coat; she forced a smile and gave me a thumbs up.

I felt a variety of emotions: scared, angry, and bored. The alleyway itself wasn't that interesting to look at; brick walls, graffiti that said typical protest phrases like "Down with Capitalism" and "Politicians are the real murderers!", a shutter door which is supposed to have led to the garage but refuses to open, some rats that took a lot out of me to not scream, and a bunch of empty trash cans. To pass the time, I just thought of events I could have been doing instead of being here. I even heard a series of snores coming from Vivian's direction.

What felt like an hour later, I heard the sound of footsteps. I held my breath and didn't move a muscle. Sweat was pouring down my face as I heard the footsteps getting louder and louder. I didn't see anyone in front of me, not even a shadow; these sounds were coming from behind. With the walking noises getting within earshot of me, I slowly turned my head to the right, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone. This person wore a white coat, black undershirt, grey gloves, and a baggy mask that covered their entire head, almost like a scarecrow.

That person also just so happened to have a knife in hand ready to stab me with it. With some fast reflexes, I turned about and kicked the masked figure into some trash cans. The figure appeared to be male, judging by the grunt he made. That seemed to have finally gotten Vivian's attention, as she tried to pull the gun from her jacket; but instead it ended up getting stuck. The killer got right back up and eyed Vivian, charging right for her, knife in hand. When Vivian finally managed to pull the gun out and aim it at him, the killer had already gotten too close to her and stabbed her stomach. Furious, I ran right toward them, pulled him off of her, threw him to the ground, and started wailing on him. I punched, and punched, and punched, only stopping when I remembered that we needed information from him. I grabbed his jacket and pulled him up.

"Who are you?! Why the fuck did you do that you son of a bitch?!

The masked man didn't respond. Instead, I heard the sound of a *crunch* from underneath the mask, and the man fell over dead. Must have been a cyanide pill hidden under a tooth. I looked up at Vivian, who still had the knife inside her stomach. She was down on the ground, puddle of blood surrounding her. Panicked, I whipped out my phone and dialed 911.


When we arrived at the hospital, I followed Vivian inside as she was placed on a stretcher and wheeled off to a room. The hospital interior was colored pure white, and was very brightly lit. There weren't many humans working at the hospital; most of them were either nurses desperate for a paycheck, a receptionist whose job was to say "welcome to the hospital, please pick a number and wait," or engineers keeping the DocBots in line if they were to ever malfunction. Once we got a room on Floor 26, the nurse who wheeled Vivian in introduced herself as Kikio, "the only working nurse," according to her. Kikio hooked Vivian's arm up to a DocBot to pump her full of blood before walking out to get some medical supplies for her.

As I stood there watching Vivian, I could only think about how nothing really mattered anymore. She was the only one to care for me, and if I were to lose her, then I wouldn't know what to do with myself anymore. I started leaving as soon as I felt like she wasn't going to make it, only for my left hand to be grabbed by Vivian. She was slowly waking up.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice soft and faint.

"For what?" I responded.

"Don't be stupid. You know what I mean."

"I'm confused. I should have protected you from getting stabbed in the-"

"Don't you get it?!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. She winced immediately afterwards.

"Listen," she said, "this eyepatch I'm wearing. Many think it makes me 'cool' and powerful. To them, it shows that I'm skilled and can handle anything. Well that's a goddamn lie! This eyepatch doesn't represent a skilled warrior; it represents a careless dumbass who almost got herself and everyone else killed all because of her negligence, someone who uses her best friend as bait to catch a killer and couldn't care less if they were killed, just because she wanted to stop more people from being harmed." Tears leaked from her eye and rolled down her cheek. "I'm the one who should be sorry, not you. I made you worried, and I didn't mean to."

I could only stare in silence, jaw agape, tears also rolling down my face. I put both hands on hers and closed my eyes. My safety meant much to her, as does hers to myself.

Kikio walked in a minute later to with a Band-Patch in hand. Band-Patches were tools that were basically Band-Aids, but can heal things like severe cuts and tears much faster and more efficient; what once took stitches decades ago, now take a single Band-Patch to heal for a good day or two. The nurse grabbed the knife sticking out of Vivian's stomach and slowly pulled it out, immediately placing a Band-Patch onto the stab wound. Kikio sent me off and promised to take care of Vivian. With my hover-cycle at Vivian's, I called a hover-cab to take me there. When the vehicle arrived, I told the auto driver Vivian's address, and once I reclaimed it, I managed to get back home sound asleep.


The next day at work, all I could think about was Vivian. She was the only thing I had left in this world. I didn't even care when my boss fired me due to not taking many good photos of the bodies; her life meant more to me than money. I drove home late at night after cleaning my office of all its belongings, pacing around my bedroom hoping for a sign that Vivian was doing well. A minute after midnight, my phone began to ring. I picked it up in a heartbeat, hoping that it had something to do with Vivian.

"Hello?" I nervously asked.

"Mr. Cyon, it's Nurse Kikio. Vivian's going to be alright. I want you to come to the hospital immediately to get her. She can barely walk, so she'll need some assistance."

"Yes! I mean, certainly. I'll be there as soon as I can."

After hanging up the phone, I felt as if a big anvil had been taken off of my chest. I wiped the sweat from my head, put some clothes on, and headed right out the door.

When I arrived at the hospital, I noticed some things odd about it. The biggest thing was that the lights were off. I thought maybe Kikio was just waiting until everyone had left; how naïve I was to think that. I walked inside to tell the receptionist about Kikio, but I got no response. In fact, the receptionist didn't even move, not even blink. Thinking that she was asleep, I banged my hand on the desk, thinking that it would wake her. Instead, I saw her head slowly slide off the neck and land in front of me. As I noticed the decapitated body falling over and the head in front of me, I started to scream. I could've run away, but I had to find Vivian. What if the one who killed the receptionist got to her? I ran down the halls, toward the elevator.

Managing to get to the 26th floor, the elevator doors opened to reveal the hall being covered with blood, intestines, and corpses, some blood even dripping from the ceiling. I froze in place, but I couldn't let any of this keep me from Vivian, so I charged on. I followed the gore, thinking that it would lead me to Vivian's room. Running down the hall, I didn't want to believe any of this. I thought I was trapped in a nightmare, and as I was running toward Vivian's room, I begged myself to wake up. It felt like an eternity running down this corridor, but I couldn't give in, even when I was starting to run out of breath, and the amount gore started to increase. When I got to the end of the hall, I turned the corner to witness the ultimate shock.

I saw a large group of men and women wearing white coats, black undershirts, grey gloves, and baggy scarecrow masks. They were each carrying blood-stained knives, and looked to be finishing up another doctor, already surrounded by intestines, guts, and corpses. When I stopped in my tracks, they all stared at me. I let out the loudest scream I could, praying that someone still alive would listen to me. I worried about Vivian, hoping that they haven't already gotten to her yet. Blocking her room and slowly walking toward me with their knives facing me, I decided to hightail it out of the hospital, hoping to at least tell the police. But when I turned around, I knew it wasn't meant to be.

I witnessed another group of those masked psychopaths, but standing in front of them was a man wearing something completely different from the people behind him, standing straight with his hands behind his back. Due to the darkness I could barely make out his appearance, but the only thing I could make out was his expression; it was that of a toothy smirk. Those masked people started slowly walking toward me as well. With nowhere to go, all I could do was stand in place, sweat, panic, and hope they would go easy on me. I then felt a sudden pain on the back of my head, which made me slouch over and black out.


When I awoke, I found myself in a dark chamber room with no doors in sight. It looked like a castle, with cobblestone walls and floor, almost as if I had time travelled back to a different era. I had no idea where I was, but I was on my knees and couldn't move. All I could hear were the voices of about twenty masked people talking to each other as they surrounded me and held my arms; one sounded like Pennyworth and another sounded like Kikio. What was going on here?

Suddenly, a bright light shone on the wall in front of me, revealing the silhouette of the man I saw at the hospital. The masked figures stopped talking and gazed at the shadowed figure in front of them. The man walked closer to me with his hands behind his back, revealing his long, black hair, grey trench coat, and pale skin; all he needed were sharp fangs and a hunger for blood.

He lifted his hands from his back, revealing me the decapitated head of Vivian. My confusion turned to shock, which turned into anger. Tears rolled down my face as I let out a loud scream, which echoed across the chamber. Fists clenched, I tried to lunge at him, but kept getting pulled back by the mask people. The man smiled as he placed the head on the ground and rolled it toward me, like a bowling ball.

"You must be confused" said the man nonchalantly. "I guess since your time is coming to a close, I should explain what's exactly going on. After all, it's not like you have anyone to help you."

Knowing that there was nothing I could do to break free or leave, I just stood in place and stared at the man.

"My name is Kelvin, and I am sick and tired of this city. As you see, technology is playing a bigger part in society every day. Everything's getting complicated and expensive, and not only that, they're taking my people's jobs. Humans like myself aren't getting paid for our skills and hard work; we're being replaced by machinery, robots designed to replicate acts we originally crafted. So I decided to assemble a team of people who shared my mindset to summon power from the type of creature who can help us: Shadoth. A demon so destructive and mindless, his name has never been written, let alone spoken. With Shadoth's help, we can bring society back to a time where technology didn't rule out lives, where men and women got paid for their hard work, and not dealing with complex machines that have made us dumber and obsolete."

"That what the arms are for, you sick fuck?! To summon this demon who might not even be real?!" I shouted in response, attempting to hold back a few tears. Kelvin's smile grew.

"You mean these?" Kelvin moved aside to show me a brightly lit altar. It was a shrine that had dozens of arms surrounding it.

"With these served arms, I can summon the powers of Shadoth within my right arm. Only then, can I help my followers." He made an opening motion with both of his hands facing the crowd in front of him. The people standing behind me cheered, as if they were getting a shout out by some famous rock star at a concert. I couldn't take this psycho's preaching anymore. I just had to say something. With a burning flame in my heart, I gave my speech everything I got.

"You people are insane!" I bellowed out. My gaze shifted towards the masked people behind me. "How could you believe this man would tell the truth?! How could you blindly follow a guy like him? Do you people even know who he is?! He doesn't even have a last name!" To my horror, not one of them responded. Kelvin turned his head towards me.

"Oh, I just remembered. We only need one more arm to complete the summoning." Kelvin pulled out a samurai sword from his large jacket. "Guess whose?"

My eyes widened and I started to sweat. I struggled to escape, but to no avail; these people were just too strong. One of them yanked my right arm forward and held if in place. I tried wiggling it, thinking that it'll be enough to break free, but nothing. Kelvin walked over to me, sword in hand. He stopped in front my arm and raised his sword over it. With a grin on his face, he slashed the sword down onto elbow, cutting my arm off in one clean cut. Blood gushed out of my stub, and I screamed as loud as I could. When my severed arm reached the ground, I saw Kelvin calmly pick it up and walk over to the altar.

Kelvin crouched down and placed my arm on the altar. He took off his trench coat-which revealed a black wife beater-tossed it on the rocky floor, got on his knees and, while touching the arms with both hands, said something.

"Oh demon lord Shadoth. I have gathered the limb that you so welcome. Grant me the energy which you have used to slaughter and destroy. Shadoth, Return!"

A bright flash of light came afterwards. I had to close my watery eyes, it was just so bright. When I opened them, the light had thankfully disappeared, the masked people were either hugging each other in celebration or on the floor confused, and Kelvin's right arm now had an orange aura surrounding it. There was a mark on his hand that looked like a pierced heart.

"Oh, Lord Kelvin," one of the masked people shouted, "how will this new power of yours help us in our quest to eradicate technology?"

Kelvin responded to his follower's question by chuckling, which transitioned into full blown laughter. Kelvin gently placed his right hand on his forehead and gave a wicked smile.

"Did you think I would actually help any of you morons?" The masked figures gasped in response.

"I'm confused," one said, "what're you talking about?" All Kelvin could do was chuckle.

"I don't care what happens to you people, or this city. To be honest, I couldn't give less a shit about your machine problems. In fact, I'm quite indifferent to these machines myself. On one hand, they took my job as a grocery store clerk, but on the other, all the free time I now had led me to the discovery of Shadoth. All those lies I told you about how machines are going to take over the world, how only I can make everyone's wish come true by destroying technology, were only so I can become the most feared person on earth. And thanks to Shadoth right here," Kelvin patted his glowing right arm, "I can now make that a reality. I hope everyone enjoyed my little performance. Oh, and speaking of Shadoth."

Kelvin extended his right hand into a fist facing his followers, then spread his fingers out. As soon as that happened, one of his follower's heads exploded. Blood sprayed out his neck like a geyser and onto the others. Everyone either screamed or stared at the headless corpse in stunned silence.

"I don't need any of you now!" With more hand gestures, everyone in the room started bursting left and right, whether it be their head, limbs, or torso; the entire floor was covered in crimson red corpses and organs.

Somehow, I lived. I still lacked an arm, but I couldn't believe I was still breathing. That is until Kelvin looked at me with that wicked smile of his, as he started rubbing his right hand under his chin and lifted an eyebrow.

"You're strong. That I can admire. But still, you did try to stop me." He extended his right arm toward me. "I'll start with the left arm, keep it symmetrical. I want to hear you scream!"

Before he can spread his fingers out, I felt a slow rumble moving through the earth. It made a noise that sounded like a faint heartbeat. Kelvin felt it too. His smug expression turned into one of horror as he clutched his right arm, screaming in pain.

"What's happening to me?! What's happening to my arm?! It hurts! Make it stop!"

He began sauntering around the room losing his balance. His arm began pulsating and moving on its own. All Kelvin could do was scream as his arm started to inflate like a balloon. And just like that, Kelvin's arm burst open, and out came a large demonic figure. The demon looked to be seven feet tall, with red orange, leathery skin, horns, and three sharp claws on his hands and feet. All Kelvin could do was stare at the creature, clutching his deflated right arm, tears in his eyes, and covered in white pus.

"Shadoth!" Kelvin yelled, "How dare you do this to me! I am your master!"

The demon Shadoth stared at Kelvin. The creature grabbed Kelvin's head, placing its three talons in of his eye sockets and mouth. Kelvin tried to scream, but all that came out were muffles. Shadoth then clenched his fist until a *snap* sound was made, dropping Kelvin's lifeless, blood soaked body.

Now free, Shadoth let out a loud roar, and began eating the remains of Kelvin. I must not move a muscle, as I might be next. Once he was finished eating the bastard, Shadoth looked over and saw the various corpses, heading over to consume the meaty chunks of flesh. As I watched this beast feast on what were once still-breathing humans, all I could do was think about everything that happened up until now, knowing that I was going to die. It's basically a forgone conclusion; I have no weapons, no exit, and no right arm.

The beast is done feasting, and has begun to look around the room. Bellowing a mighty roar, the creature now glows orange and is growing in size. It doesn't appear to be stopping; soon there's going to be no room left in this room. I know I'll soon die from this behemoth's ever increasing size crushing me like a grape, and as I lie here reminiscing everything that happened up until now, all I can think of is that the world is about to get a stern wake-up call in a few seconds. What an odd, sad way to end my week.