The streets are flooded with screams and the sound of running footsteps, doors locking echo loudly, the thin cadence of metal scraping into place, the darkness drowning the streets, the sound of sirens ringing filling the air, stealing the oxygen -- ‘ take cover, go inside, there’s a monster on the loose, a beast to be feared. ‘ 

The very sound of the wailing sends shivers down a spine, blood pumping hotter, adrenaline spiking, the feeling of light-headedness -- euphoria. The sirens haven’t rung since Delulu poured toxins into the air, not since it ran ripened through the city, killing, maiming, and blinding, a new Omen tearing through poisoned psyches. The smoke billowing nearby causing quite the panic, the quaking ground sending the citizens to duck in fear. At first he thought it must be a truly horrible occurrence, there must be something heavy in the oxygen they breathe, there must be something foreboding, something closing in tightly on this night, the darkness eating them from all sides.

He finds it strange, then, when he finds the true reason for calling the city to panic; a loose Night Monster. An occurrence not all too strange, the devilmen flooding the streets more often than not, shot down with tranquilizers and streams of solid metal, decapitated in remote areas, hunted and tore to pieces. So what could it be, then, that makes this one so special? What did it do to create the boom that shook the ground beneath their feet? What retribution would soon find them?

Ujin walks the streets seemingly unbothered; buried in black fabrics and heavy boots, the communicator on his wrist beeping, screaming, caught on deaf ears as he finds his way out of the clearing of Million’s Square, back streets and empty alleyways, eyes sliding through shadows and over fire escapes, through grit and grime, only half-heartedly searching for the missing creature on his way to meet, mostly fondly, his partner. His teeth would clack to say it, smile widened with fangs gleaming, shining red with neons. His eyes flicking up to watch the Sentinels flying wildly by, long metal arms like ropes, lights dull and blinking as if to say, ‘ We’re alive too, don’t feel so special. ‘

His instructions were clear, ‘ lay low, stay undercover, ‘ but he wields weapons through the streets, not hiding or pulling closer to himself but instead flashing horrible smiles to started passerby, eyes wide in fear, caught wider at the sight of guns and knives, the disposition of a man who could just as easily be the Monster himself. It does, he thinks, help the citizens, they hide quicker, start banging on locked doors and swallowing hysteria in pitiful whines. 

He can’t help but be proud of what he’s become, and as his eyes find them, waiting so patiently nearby, he can’t help but feel proud of what they’re soon to be as well.