With precision and caution, we begin the task, carefully loading one C4 after another.
Each explosive is skillfully fastened to the inside of our clothing, ensuring no suspicion is raised. Though these individual blocks aren’t burdensome, the accumulation of double-digit quantities feels as though we are carrying a colossal half-ton boulder resting on their backs, or so I was told by Neil and Hans.
Unsurprisingly though, I find them as light as feathers.
Unfortunately, today’s absence of scheduled drilling adds an additional layer of risk to our endeavor.
Transporting these dynamites could and would inevitably attract attention, causing numerous complications that we are unprepared for. Hence, the paramount importance of secrecy emerges, creating far more issues than we had anticipated. Puffed up but otherwise perfectly comfortable, I turn to my accomplices to find their knees shaking violently. “H- How are you doing that? How’re you carrying all this weight with such ease?”
As this thought crosses my mind, I realize that my own assumptions have led to a lack of communication.
Having spent considerable time at Erskine’s facility and urban areas, where people knew who I was and what I could do, I had grown accustomed to that level of familiarity.
In my defense, I’ve gained a modest level of popularity, plus my presence being paraded around for months has further enhanced my reputation.
However, it’s important to remember that it is still the year 1943, and the luxuries we take for granted are not commonplace.
In this era, many households are devoid of basic necessities like functional electricity and running water, never mind owning a television. The general population is preoccupied with more pressing matters, leaving little time or interest for military delusions. I don’t know Neil or Bryan intimately, but these two look like they haven’t been home since the second World War began.
Considering my past involvement in various propaganda campaigns and advertisements, I highly doubt both Neil and Bryan have never even come across any of those. But even if they had, it is quite in line with the mindset of hardened, blooded soldiers such as them to dismiss such things.
Call it callousness, cynicism or whatever you want, but individuals who have directly witnessed the atrocities of war seldom find solace in the notion of a Hero or someone greater than life itself. They probably looked at the war propagandas and laughed their asses off, which I cannot fault… I’d have done the same in their shoes.
With a lighthearted smile, I answer truthfully. “I’m a Super Soldier.”
Sadly, “Yeah, right…” Neither seems to believe me.
“No, I’m serious. I’m codenamed Caesar. I don’t wanna toot my own horns, but I’m pretty famous back home.” Playfully, I wink at Neil who seems rather skeptical of my claims. “Who are you trying to trick, a three-year-old child?”
Hans breaks the silence, his voice filled with contemplation, as he takes a moment to observe our surroundings. “Is it really so far-fetched to believe?” He asks, his gaze shifting between us. “We Germans have been trying to engineer the ideal human for quite some time. So, wouldn’t it be possible that you Americans have also pursued similar endeavors and achieved success?”
Neil responds with a dry chuckle, pinching his stubbled chin. “I suppose you have a point,” He quips, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. “But seriously, who in their right mind would select this clueless fool? He looks he can’t tell East from West, and I’d not be surprised if he applied sunscreen religiously.”
He pauses for a second, then adds to hammer in his point. “Even on a cloudy day.”
Neither Hans nor I find the joke funny. “What was that second grade, schoolyard roast? I’m insulted.” I stress, face twisting in disgust when all of a sudden, an explosion rocks the tunnel we’re in. The three of us wobble unsteadily yet quickly to the exit, unfortunately a rock comes loose and falls on Neil. Watching this happen in slow-motion, I reach forth, fist enclosing around the stray projectile and effortlessly crush it to fine dust.
With a collective sense of relief, we manage to navigate our way to a more stable surface, leaving behind the treacherous tunnel that threatened to crumble behind us. As we take a moment to catch our breath, the grim reality sinks in: Had Neil and Hans lingered even a few seconds longer, their lives would’ve been forfeited. “What the Hell’s going on above us?!” Pvt. Neil yells, face pale with fear.
After a moment of contemplation, I step forward, volunteering myself for the task. "I'll check it out," I assert, recognizing that it seems like the most logical option. "To be honest, I don't have much knowledge about explosives or dynamites. I've never even seen one in person, so I won't be of much assistance in that area." I direct my gaze towards Hans, acknowledging his limited expertise. "I doubt Hans is well-versed either. You should stay and focus on setting up the dynamites. This is our best opportunity, and we can't afford any mistakes."
There is a pause as my words hang in the air, a tangible tension replacing the previously light-hearted atmosphere. I lock eyes with Hans and issue a stark warning. "Oh, and Hans," I begin with a steely tone, "If you can help Neil in any way, shape or form, make sure you do. Betray us–” The threat is left unspoken, as I anchor my fingers- nails sinking into the wall in an impressive display of power. "You two believe me now?"
“You weren’t bullshitting?” The private’s voice rises in amazement.
Wide-eyed, even as unruly strands of brown hair stray and poke into them.
In response, a confident smirk forms on my face. Nose upturned, I say with an extra pop. “Nope, not joking. Julius ‘Caesar’ Campbell, the first Super Soldier.” With hurried motions, I unstrap the sticks of dynamites, entrusting them to Neil then disappear up the stairs. This school and many like it were built to function as a bunker as well, so the underground structures are really well-made until the Nazis drilled a hole into it in search of oil to fund their reckless war and racial purge campaign.
As I make my way up from the basement, it becomes apparent that the once ordinary space has transformed into a gateway to Hell, metaphorically and quite literally, given the horrifying contents of the pit. Urgency fuels my movements, and I instinctively press myself against a crook in the wall as I hear the sound of hurried footsteps approaching.
Fearful voices rise in a cacophony, accompanied by a chilling screech that resonates down the seemingly never-ending hallway. A shiver runs down my spine as I hear a soldier exclaim in alarm. “Was zum Teufel ist das?"
"Ich weiß es nicht, aber wir sollten uns beeilen."
After they too vanish, I come out- soaking my sleeves with sweats. “Phew, that was close.”
Reacting swiftly, I spin around to face the three soldiers who have now materialized, their hands firmly gripping their weapons. Their words demand an explanation. “Identifizieren Sie sich! Warum sprechen Sie Englisch?!” With a calm and confident demeanor, I reach for my pocket and produce an identification document, extending for them to check. They exchange swift, baffled stares then one begins making his way towards me, his fingers relaxing slightly around the trigger at my compliant attitude.
The other two soldiers follow soon after, moving from their spots to somewhere they’ll be able to keep closer, clearer watch on my every move. They’re careful, I’ll give them that at least, but their first mistake is stumbling on me and the second is not keeping silent when they still could.
With a swift and decisive movement, my clenched fist strikes the throat of the closest soldier, effectively knocking the air out of his lungs. Simultaneously, my leg forcefully connects with the second soldier, propelling him backward towards the third. While the impact is powerful, I have been intentionally controlling my newfound strength, ensuring that no lethal harm is inflicted upon them.
I have diligently practiced harnessing and managing my augmented abilities ever since receiving the Serums. The incident with Caine serving as a constant reminder of the dangers of unchecked power. Fortunately, F.L.A.G.’s emphasis on overall enhancement isn’t limited to physical, but mental aspects too, as shared with me by Dr. Erskine. The Nazis can count themselves lucky I’m not a bloodthirsty person. ‘Yeah, right…’ With two already knocked out in the initial attacks, the third flails for his gun only to get hit in the face by the butt of a gun.
“Shoulda pretended you didn’t notice me.” I shrug, throwing the excess weapons to the ground just as more soldiers barge into the hallway, but unlike these three, they all appear panicked. Instead of questioning my presence and the motionless group of men beneath my feet, they make a beeline for the door. Quickly, I grab one of the fleeing scientist, asking with narrowed eyes. “What’s going on? Why’re you running?”
“Einer der Testpersonen ist aus der Sicherheitszone entkommen!”
“English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?!” It takes only a moment for him to consider, his eyes snapping towards the unseen horrors in the back of the building, before he relents. “It has escaped- one of the test subjects escaped and is running amok in the inner-facility. That’s all I know–”
In the blink of an eye, the lights in the area abruptly go out, plunging us into darkness.
The once-yellow, headache-inducing fluorescent lights are swiftly replaced by an unsettling sight: Pulsating red alarms that cast an eerie glow in the surroundings. The blaring sound intermittently fills the air, heightening the tension and adding to the sense of urgency. The sudden change in atmosphere sends a chill down my spine, making it incredibly clear that our already dire situation has taken a turn for the worse. “I swear! Please unhand me! It’s coming! It’s coming!!!”
Seeing the terrified expression on the scientist’s face, I release my grip, allowing him to sprint away. I watch as he joins his fellow soldiers in a frantic rush out of the room. It becomes evident that the explosion must have caused a malfunction, resulting in one of the enhanced individuals, or ‘podies’ as I like to call them, escaping from their confinement.
The situation is pretty dire, as if what Hans said are the truth, loose podies can be highly dangerous due to their enhanced abilities and infectiousness. Torn between checking out the explosion or the loose enhanced individual, I click my tongue. “Dammit.” Neil and Hans are still deep in the tunnel, setting up the dynamite to bring down the building’s foundation and collapse the tunnels, they will be at risk if the test subject(s) is not incapacitated. “Dammit all to Hell…”
Without wasting another moment, I propel myself further into the facility, only to be confronted by truly horrifying scenes that surpass even the barely sustained torso I had come across earlier. The sight before me is a grotesque display of dismembered corpses, their states of decay varying from fresh to unsettlingly recent but there’s one thing they all seem to share- the inability to die.
Then there’re the scientists, once individuals seeking knowledge through any means necessary, they now lie in pools of their own blood, their lives suddenly and gruesomely extinguished. A few even have their heads stomped in, resembling dropped watermelons than human skulls.
The stomach-churning scent of death fills the air, causing bile to rise up my throat.
The acidic taste burns my tongue as I fight to suppress the wave of nausea, the remnants of yesterday’s meager meal- the chalky dry rations that tasted like sawdust on my tongue, threatening to make a reappearance in a… Less than pleasant manner, unfortunately my verbal reactions seem to have drawn the ire of our enhanced friend.
Emerging from the shadows, the blonde man’s soles leave moist footprints on the ground as he stalks towards me with a stiff gait, emitting groans reminiscent of the archetypal zombies. But it swiftly becomes apparent the infected is far from the typical mindless zombie. His agility defies expectations as he accelerates towards me, showcasing a speed that defies his eerie appearance. “Take it easy, buddy.”
That does not calm him at all, if anything it seems to piss the infected off further.
As he closes the distance, I am struck by the sight of his venomous tongue, dripping with a malevolent substance. The infected bares his fangs, revealing the transformation that has taken hold, turning him into a grotesque and formidable predator whose pores keep oozing inky black. The realization that this encounter is going to be far more perilous than I initially anticipated hits me like a punch to the gut as I circle the infected man, who snarls and yowls and snaps like a rabid animal. “Easy–”
The sight of the infected man’s aggressive response fuels his hunger, unmistakably evident in the way he sniffs the air hungrily. His tooth-filled maw widens as he propels himself towards me, driven by the singular, insatiable desire to sink his teeth into my defenseless flesh. However, I am not about to let that happen.
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Reacting swiftly to the imminent threat, I tap into my own abilities, a pulsating power that allows me to transform- for my body, my atoms to collapse into a smaller form- one fit for flying. As the infected man lunges, I undergo a rapid metamorphosis, altering my form just in time to evade his attack.
With each transformation, the dual nature of my abilities becomes apparent. While my Avian Form grants me the essential agility and speed needed to outmaneuver the infected man, it also comes at a cost.
The toll of changing between forms is substantial, akin to undergoing an intense, non-stop five-day workout. I can feel the fatigue starting to set in, reminding me that my reserves are not infinite. Although I may be able to transform at least two dozens more times, exceeding a certain limit would leave me completely drained and vulnerable.
Time is of the essence, ‘I must find a way to swiftly bring an end to this confrontation.’
‘Let me out and I’ll deal with it for you…’
As the infected man hisses, fear courses through my veins, and I feel beads of sweat trickling down my forehead. The situation at hand becomes abundantly clear to me– this will not be an easy battle. I scrunch my nose in trepidation, the daunting challenge ahead filling me with a mix of determination and unease.
The battle begins with a blur, my instincts taking over as the fight unfolds. I don’t remember the exact moment it starts, but I am fully present in the intense clash that ensues. Every move, every strike, is etched into my memory as I engage in a deadly dance with the infected.
My attacks are precise, deadly, and executed without mercy. Each strike is calculated and efficient, aimed to incapacitate and neutralize the threat before me. In stark contrast, the infected’s movements are aimless, its flailing attempts at offense lacking in both strategy and purpose, but pain doesn’t seem to factor in its movements. It is not lacking in endurance or stamina either, plus every hit I land is being shrugged off with such ease I too question my ability to win.
But, as the fight progresses, it becomes evident that my training and discipline give me a significant advantage in spite of my lesser physical capabilities. In the midst of our intense battle, I begin to recognize that there is more to the infected than meets the eye. Despite their twisted appearance, there is an undeniable vitality within them. I can sense the signs of life in his rushing blood; pounding heart; and his strained, protesting systems.
The presence of life within the infected is unmistakable, and like all living beings, he too possesses the capacity to adapt and evolve. The longer the fight persists, the more blood I lose and the weaker I become, while he grows stronger. His wounds swiftly mending with the aid of the inky black goo, his skills in close-quarter combat improving significantly with each passing moment until I myself can no longer keep up.
“Damn–” As I begin to utter a curse, the words are abruptly cut short as the infected man launches himself at me, aiming straight for my neck. Reacting on instinct, my palm swiftly presses against his Adam’s apple, creating a barricade that prevents his lethal fangs from piercing my flesh. “Fuck! Dammit. Get the Hell off me!”
In a state of panic, I unleash a barrage of forceful strikes, repeatedly hammering the infected's head against the wall. Blow after blow, I relentlessly pound his skull against the unyielding bricks until a sickening crack reverberates through the air. His head shatters through the wall, becoming lodged in the debris, trapped between the surface and the remnants of the crumbling structure, yet… ‘Nothing?!’
‘Let me out… Let me out before he kills us both, you fool!’ The anguished voice pleads urgently, its desperation vividly apparent. It begs for liberation, aware of the imminent threat that can swiftly extinguish our lives. The plea reverberates around me, like the howling of winds.
However, I cannot entertain the idea, for I am all too aware of what lies within and the monstrous presence it represents… And I refuse to allow it to take control. Standing firm, I firmly, fists raining on the infected’s head to get it off me. ‘No, you’re wrong. I am stronger than you.’
‘Are you sure? 'Cause it sure doesn't fucking look like it. You bloody fool…’ The mocking voice interjects, casting doubt on my assertion.
As the infected voice continues its insidious persuasion, its words chipping away slowly at my resolve, I feel its influence attempting to take over.
‘Let me. I’ll take over.’ It insists, almost coaxing me towards surrender.
However, just as it seems like all hope is dwindling, a gunshot shatters the air. Chunks of the infected’s face explode, causing him to stagger and collapse to the ground weakly. The pained screeching fills the room, only to be followed by two, three more shots that further destabilize the creature. Flailing in confusion, the infected becomes disoriented as a soldier strides into the room aiming to bring an end to our little confrontation.
“Who?”
— [Kaleidoscopic Polaris] —
MG42 in hands and a raptor following closely behind him, Pvt. Bryan abandons all caution and charge at the nearest Nazi group he can hear.
“Have a taste of freedom, motherfuckers!”
Without wasting a single moment, Bryan unleashes a relentless onslaught of molten slags upon the unsuspecting men. Shortly after, Nanna joins the assault, her rows of lethal fangs tearing through their cheaply-produced uniforms effortlessly.
Their desperate screams for salvation go unanswered, as any hope of divine intervention proves futile.
No benevolent or merciful god will come to their aid now, not while their acts of cruelty and wickedness are still exposed for the world to see.
Caught in the grip of their own actions, the Nazis find themselves unable to escape the repercussions of their conquest. Bullets and fangs rip through their ranks.
Their eradication becomes an inevitable outcome as they are swiftly overwhelmed and defeated, mostly by Nanna, although it is undeniable Bryan’s guns have proven rather useful during the whole debacle.
In a moment of triumph, the private’s exultation fills the air as he throws his arms up, unleashing war cries that echo through the landscape. Caught in the fervor of the moment, Nanna the Velociraptor, immediately joins in the celebration, their combined howls echoing for miles.
Amidst the jubilation, a young boy in his mid-teens emerges from the shadows, the last remaining Nazi. Pvt. Bryan, in an act of mercy, extends his hand and gestures for Nanna to restrain her predatory instincts. Understanding his intention, she obediently stays her beak, allowing the young conscripted to escape relatively unharmed.
“You’re awesome, partner. Any chance I can poach you off that Julius kid?” He teasingly asks, only to receive a blank stare in return. Refusing to deign the joking question with an answer, Nanna raises her head high and sniffs the air as a familiar scent crosses her nose- Julius’.
With the immediate threats neutralized, Nanna is now free to employ her heightened senses to locate her lost owner.
Cawing, she propels herself towards the facility’s door, colliding with the reinforced metal barricade installed by the Nazis. The impact sends her bouncing back, disoriented as her brain momentarily jolts within her skull. Surprisingly, the door remains unscathed, devoid of any scratches. Undeterred by the initial setback, Nanna plants her legs firmly on the ground, generating a cloud of dirt as she accelerates once more.
As Nanna’s powerful impact reverberates through the building, the barricades show signs of denting, but remain otherwise intact.
It is instead the doorframe that bears the brunt of the assault, crumbling and falling from the wall. This unforeseen destruction grants Bryan and the raptor brief glimpses of the interior before billowing smoke quickly obscures their vision. Despite the limited view, one thing is evident– either something huge is rushing out or there are a lot of somethings currently in motion within.
The tension mounts as both Bryan and the raptor brace themselves for the impending encounter, yet what barges out are just white-coated men and women, screaming like their very lives are at risk. “THE FUCK’S GOING ON? HEY, YOU! YES, WHO ELSE JACKASS? COME HERE!” Angrily, the private barks at a… “Facility assistant?”
Bryan repeats quizzically the words written on his nametag, gun trained on the shivering man’s abdomen. “You’re gonna tell me exactly what I want, or I’m gonna give you the lead treatment, understood?” The man fearfully nods, but the Velociraptor can’t wait any longer. Taking off unexpectedly, “Don’t take off like that you stupid dinosaur!”, she launches deeper into the facility, feathers shaking eagerly as she skids on the ground, stopping as she catches sight of something… A human clinging to the ceiling.
Nanna’s beak snaps open, emitting a piercing screech that reflects her intense displeasure and desire to be left undisturbed. However, her foe can’t seem to take the hint. Revealing fang-shaped goo, the hairless ape tangibly displays its transformation, now armed with deadlier natural weapons- longer, sharper nails; fleshy tendrils sprouting from his back…etc. A loud hiss escapes its lips, causing Nanna’s feathers to stand on end, one final warning before they reach a point of irreconcilability.
Nanna whips her head forward, her razor-sharp beak making lethal contact with the exposed throat of her aggressor.
A sickening crunch echoes through the air as her beak severs vital arteries, bringing the altercation to a sudden and violent end. Blood sprays in all directions as the hairless ape collapses to the ground, its life extinguished. Nanna, victorious but visibly shaken, takes a step back, her feathers slowly settling back into place. She lets out a series of calming coos, about to take off once more when something claws at her heel.
With a determined motion, Nanna swiftly turns and brings her powerful foot down, delivering a stomping blow onto the wiggling infected. The first stomp severs its arm, the second crushes its torso, yet despite the grievous injuries, it persists in its agonizing existence. Unwilling and seemingly unable to succumb to death’s grasp.
Nanna raises her leg once more, delivering a third and decisive stomp. The force shatters the infected’s skull into countless fragments, ultimately ensuring its demise. The lifeless body beneath her foot bears witness to the finality of its fate, no longer posing a threat to anyone. Confrontation concluded, the raptor stands tall, preening herself to rid the blood from her feathers just as Pvt. Bryan barges in, breathing heavily. “You- You little shit… Wait for me too!”
Nanna’s triumphant stance abruptly shifts as the Velociraptor disregards his presence, her marbled eyes rolling aimlessly in its skull.
Frustration tinged with concern seeps into Bryan’s voice as she attempts to regain the creature’s attention.
“Hey! Hey, wait!”
The private calls out, trying to bridge the distance between himself and the distracted Velociraptor, but her keen awareness of Julius’s scent has already triggered a surge within her. “Dammit, I said wait!” He implores, his voice rising as she rises once more, head tilting. Knowing he’s about to be left behind again, and with no other choice, Bryan’s mind whirls before an idea arises, stupid as it may seem at a first glance. “Screw it…”
In an impulsive move, the private mutters before lunging towards the Velociraptor, who lets out a startled squeal at the sudden contact. Her head makes a swift 180° snapping motion to glare at the private, marbled eyes fixed upon him in irritation.
Bryan, though displaying a sheepish expression, remains resolute.
"I ain’t getting left behind twice." He says, determination lacing his voice. Defying the raptor's attempts to shake him off, he throws his arms over her neck, stubbornly clinging to her despite Nanna's best (non-lethal) efforts to dislodge the hard-headed man.
After what feels like an eternity of nausea for Bryan, the Velociraptor, Nanna, finally gives up her attempts to shake him off. Though it’s quite uncharacteristic behavior on the raptor’s part; the hushed breaths; distant cries; and sounds of struggle echoing through the air. Time is of the essence.
With Bryan clinging onto her back, Nanna wobbles forward unsteadily at first, adjusting to the additional weight. As he fastens himself to the miniature dinosaur, Bryan suppresses a cry of discomfort when she accelerates, every step sending tremors through his body. However, their progress is abruptly halted as something gets tangled between Nanna’s feet, causing both of them to tumble into a ball of fluff and man.
Their entangled state is short-lived as Nanna is forcefully yanked back by another creature, abruptly halting their progress. Bryan continues hurtling forward without anything to break his fall. Swiftly, he reacts, skillfully maneuvering his body in mid-air. With palms slapping against the ground, the private manages to seize his momentum, fracturing both his wrists in the process, all in a calculated move to control his trajectory. At last, he rolls through a pair of swinging doors, propelling himself into the next room.
As the doors swing shut behind him, Bryan’s eyes widen at the sight before him.
Standing just a few feet away, an infected individual is lunging towards one of his fellow Allied soldiers, intent on sinking its teeth into their flesh. In that moment, Bryan knows he must act swiftly to intervene and protect his comrade. Drawing on his pistol, grimacing in agony all the while, Pvt. Bryan takes aim and– *Bang!
Without hesitation, he fires a single round, hoping to neutralize the threat. However, to his surprise, the infected is unfazed, the shot appearing to have little effect.
Realizing the gravity of the situation and unwilling to take any chances, Bryan quickly recalibrates his strategy, unleashing a barrage of shots and emptying his entire magazine into the creature’s torso to head. The deafening sound of gunfire fills the air as each bullet finds its target, causing the infected to convulse and stagger backward.
With a final, decisive bullet, the infected creature collapses onto its back, resembling a dying and grotesque humanoid spider. Its movements become feeble, limbs twitching and curling spasmodically, as the life gradually fades from its eyes. Pvt. Bryan takes a brief moment to catch his breath, relieved that he was able to eliminate the immediate threat.
“Who?!” Astonishment fills the voice of his comrade. Julius rises to his feet, patting his arms in search of any injuries. A wave of relief washes over him as he realizes that he hasn’t been bitten. ”Bryan?” He calls out, seeking confirmation from his fellow soldier, who waves tiredly- lips quivering in pain. “H- Here, kid…”
“Crap, are you alright?” Julius asks, his voice filled with concern as he closely examines Bryan for any injuries. Bryan lets out a tired sigh and shakes his head. “Not exactly, kid.” He replies, voice reflecting his exhaustion fully.
Weary, Bryan extends his floppy wrists towards Julius, showing him that he can no longer hold onto his weapon.
Julius’s eyes widen in realization, witnessing his injured state. The young soldier rummages through his pocket, eventually fishing out a black, shiny rectangular object that vibrates in his hand.
Without wasting any time, Julius glances at the glowing screen of the device and then brings his own wrist to his mouth, gently sinking his teeth in until he starts to draw blood. Bryan’s eyes widen in shock and confusion. “What’re you doing?!” He exclaims, his voice laced with frustration and anger, before that changes to bafflement as the newly-made wound mends under his astonished gaze. “Hmmm… It’ll cost me another point?”
He whispers distractedly, “What?”
“Never mind. Drink, my blood will heal you.”
Calmly, Julius says, extending his bloody wrist towards Bryan. A light smile graces his lips as he offers his own blood.
However, in an unexpected turn of events, the creature suddenly rises, seemingly unaffected by its previous injuries.
Bryan immediately reacts, warning urgently, “Behind you--!” But the creature has already lunged towards them, poised to attack.
Without hesitation, Campbell delivers a powerful spinning kick to the infected’s abdomen, causing it to crash through a nearby wall. Then, using his flask as a container, he carefully collects the dripping blood.
With a lightness in his tone, he addresses the creature, his voice now filled with a steely resolve. “I have this three-strikes system. I spared you once when you leapt at me, twice when you tried to bite me, and that was the third time. If any semblance of Humanity still remains, retreat.” Features hardening with determination; eyes narrow, having lost the previous glimmer of amusement and the happy squint, Julius threatens. “Or I’m gonna start going in for the kill.”
The creature's response is not the rational one that Julius had hoped for. Instead, it lets out a screeching howl as it peels itself off the wall, refusing to back down. Campbell lets out a sigh and his expression turns blank as he resigns to the situation, mumbling quietly.
“So be it.”