God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another. (2)Something was intruding on its territory.
Their odour wafted upon the currents of humid, stale air, the traces of a familiar scent floating through the dusty, long-forgotten air vents to its nest. A low rumble built in its throat as it pushed down upon soft fabric with powerful, meaty hands; the rusted springs creaked obnoxiously, and the moment they were released, the ungainly, black shape that had been resting frozen next to it toppled over, dropped onto the moldy tufts with a dull thud. It snorted, foot squashing against the black with a wet pop as it lumbered towards the drywall upon which its companion rested. The fluids stuck to its reddening feet, but it paid that no heed.
It wanted to know what had dared to enter its domain.
It sniffed heavily. The scent was weak, too faint to identity, but it was familiar. It gnawed at the back of its small mind, a muddled memory in a sea of opacity. That thought instigated something in its mind. Why did it choose to make its nest in this disgusting place? What was it doing? Where was this ... place that it had found itself in? Discontented grumbling left it. There was unease. What was it? Who was it?
A toiling sound, electrical and dim, rang out through the nest. This was not new.
Then a high sound. Speech. Talking. Something was talking.
The intruder.
Instincts kicked in. It didn't know why, couldn't understand why, but it was moving, moving back through the darkness of the nest to the barrier. The glass. It tapped lightly. Glass. The window. A source of blinding glare that it battered. The glass - the window, it shattered. There was no sound.
Why would there have been sound?
It ignored that strange thought.
It entered.
Everything was bright.
It was late.
Late? What was it out of time for? The glare of the sunlight was painful. No cry left it. It would alert the intruder to its presence. The intruder would know from the sound? How? The instincts kicked in. It clambered upon maroon brick, crumbling with age. Quietly, grains digging into meaty hands as it shuffled. It knew where the intruder was. The intruder was not far.
That intruder, that something, was in its territory.
It needed to find the intruder. The intruder's scent was familiar.
An odour that attracted its attention.
Skitter. Skitter. Skitter. Skitter.
The glare blinded. Flesh was burning.
There was no smoke. There should have been smoke?
It didn't understand why that was a necessity. It didn't care.
It had found the intruder.
The intruder hadn't seen it yet.
The intruder was human.
Human.The word was important. Familiar. Rotting teeth quietly gnashed in thought. Yes. Familiar.
Homo sapiens sapiens. The dominant species on this world. This world. That was a strange phrase to it. But it ignored it. The light was powerful. It shifted its frame. Hid under the shadow. Yes. In the shadow of the gutters. And watched the intruder. The familiar-smelling intruder. The human.
Human?
The human was standing in front of its nest. In front of the door. The source of the toiling sounds. The doorbell. That was what that sound was. It strained its senses. There was a certain smell to the human. The human's words were low, but even so, it could hear.
"Mori Fumihiro ... are you present?"
A name. A human name. A name of a man.
The intruder was a human. But not a man. A woman.
It couldn't help but grin.
"Hm, nobody's home ...?"
The human, she was dressed in black. A suit. A professional-looking woman. She pressed the doorbell once again, letting the toiling noise resound throughout the building. Yes, the building. Where it had chosen to nest. Nesting in the building, the core of its territory. She seemed curious about something, and even in the darkness where it was hiding, it could that she was very intent on getting inside the building. Inside its nest.
Into its territory. The territory where it hunted.
She had pink hair.
Strange hair, it thought. It ignored that thought.
She was human. A pink-haired human woman in its territory. A relishing thought. They were always the most fun.
She did something. It couldn't see.
The smell hit it immediately.
A delicious smell.
It held in its urges. Its desires. The odour was so tempting, a powerful, musky scent that was more than enough to drive it wild. It was blood. Yes, human blood. More than mere human blood. There was a greater power to it. Yes, the first human blood it would take in a long time. Delicious.
And from such a tender-seeming woman too.
They were always the most fun.
It knew what its purpose was.
It began to move.
The woman seemed to be trying to cover the bleeding cut on her finger with paper. Slick paper.
Useless. It had already smelled the blood.
Her flesh would be its soon enough.
Finally, it was time.
She hadn't noticed.
It pounced with a roar. Its entire body rocketed forth with unstoppable power.
Its chosen prey turned. Her eyes were red.