The world seemed to be a mess at present. Not that there was any period when it was very different, although things tended to get better and worse throughout existence. Now, however, its worsening seemed beyond the consequences normally controllable. Over the centuries, constant changes came and went. Whether climatic, social, economic and so on. And as always, there was the human adaptation to deal with everyone and everything for the sake of survival, convenience — and that fitted, yes, a whole heap of things.
No exceptions.
Nobody would guess, however, that all those ancient tales and myths told by the elders were actually fateful stories. Creatures, phenomena, entities, monsters; all of them were real and dwelt in their existence like anything else, logically explainable or not. Beyond the laws of physics or what any science could explain: from wandering bodies without a heart to pump or cutlery flying through the air. Things invading dreams, corpses with deep bite marks on the jugular and drained blood, cobwebs of ghastly proportions. People disappearing or being mysteriously murdered by unknown causes, from recordings where individuals disappear in the blink of an eye to a man next door whose neck was simply broken in a condominium corridor.
Although fewer in number, the presence of the supernatural was undeniable. Now, the evidence was slowly being put on the table. However, it wasn't as if everyone was bad. Generalizing was only the worst. There were those, a whole other lot, who never wanted anything more than to simply exist.
Humans and non-humans had always walked the earth together, side by side, even if they weren't that close due to differences and discrepancies in habits, morals and physical form. Whether they were aware of each other's existence or not no longer mattered, but how many millennia they had shared the same home. To a certain extent, their existences coexisted without major problems with the birth of non-humans with characteristics as human as any other — these being, however, the small minority who got away with it in specific circumstances. The most unmistakable, however, occasionally standing out due to small characteristics or unique abilities that a human would never be able to have, experienced greater difficulties in existing. Although it was still a stigma, they always existed, no matter how many times they were denied by ignorance. Identity didn't need to be verbalized when some things were impossible to hide in physique or behavior.
However, just as it had happened throughout the course of humanity and continued to be repeated until then: everything that was different was repudiated. What could not be controlled was frightening, even if it was in the minority. Difficult to control, difficult to repress.
Hatred of non-humans then spread like a plague, spreading with terrible speed. Starting with small murders of creatures considered aberrations, sometimes even the species itself being rejected for its differences, and then spreading slightly to mass persecution. All it took was fear for it to be done, with no confirmation as to doubt or otherwise. Fear of the unknown soon turned into anger, resentment. Humans have never been the best at treating those considered different, even if they share the same blood.
As if they weren't as human as those they claimed to be.
Predictably, almost unpleasantly, extermination was the first option that came to mind at the sight of different creatures, no matter how small or harmless they appeared to be. Obviously, the hatred is mutual. Growing, slowly, like a weed never tended. A growing rivalry like an evil never pruned, dragging on for millennia. An inflamed grudge that could, at any moment, explode on both sides at the most inopportune moment, without realizing how much they were hurting each other.
And even though they were minorities and not all of them were aware, some still had humanity. Some were good, some were not. Some were harmless, others not. There was no rule or instruction manual for dealing with them, and most were unpredictable. And that went for humans as well as those who weren't.
“It's the end of times!” Some published in tabloid newspapers, gossip sites and even personal blogs. The network of pessimistic articles about a future without positivity had gradually grown.
“Signs of a possible apocalypse?” Commented those who wrote long dissertations on conspiracy theories on blogs of questionable veracity. Constantly, even if the post was always deleted once it got far enough.
“We'll pay for our sins! All of us! Kill the demons, don't let them spread!” Others were writing on large placards, walking down the street, looking for some kind of result. No one dared stop to look.
What they all had in common, however, was the half truth.
*
This is all very tactless, very dry. The storm began at eight in the morning and remained rigid until after midnight. For some reason, the gods were annoyed.
The bespectacled man was grinning from ear to ear, walking hurriedly, bouncing across the platform. The station was now empty, the timetable already closed for its operation, no other subway trains expected to pass through in the next few hours. Offering, he felt, a very inviting nocturnal privacy. If he'd received the suggestion from anyone else, he would certainly have found it atrocious and frightening, but coming from the woman of his dreams, his heart immediately perked up and he accepted without a second thought. For them to be more alone, under the dim lighting of the high lamps and the echo of the immense surroundings — everything reflected an almost suffocating romanticism, sounding like the escapade of two ardent lovers.
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His eyes lowered behind the thick lenses and he nibbled the inner corner of his cheek. On the map on his cell phone, XXX's location was straight ahead, less than a few steps away. Blinking, motionless. A smile soon appeared on his lips and he tightened his pace, anxious. The silhouette becomes more evident in the dim light.
“Hey,” he whispered euphorically, trembling fingers pressing buttons to turn it off and then sliding the phone into his jeans pocket. He even began to walk more slowly. “H-How late am I? I got stuck in the middle of the road, s-sorry. I passed a place first and… missed the time.”
“That's okay. You came, and that's only what matters.”
Ah, her voice was sweeter than imagined, more tender, more polished. Her pink hair contrasted perfectly with her light brown dress with cute embellishments and long sleeves. The white heels were rounded and, even with them, they still didn't make her much taller. Minato was dazzled. In love would also be an application, yes, if only he could recognize why his blood was running hot in his veins and his heart was pounding. Thump. Thump. Sharply against his ribcage, almost painfully.
“Aren't you going to hold me? I deserve at least a decent length,” It sounded like a shy request, something low and whispered, the tone that made Minato's heart warm and his legs feel like jelly. He could have sworn he saw her blush in the dim light from the broken lamps above them, and God, he felt blessed.
He just shook his head, his voice escaping from his throat and his mouth appearing dry. One step at a time, he approached the young woman with trembling and sinking anxiety. First, he passed one around her waist, then her back, and so made the strongest squeeze he could. He almost sobbed when he felt her under his hands, not an illusion of his miserable conscience or someone playing with his head again. And it was sweet — the sweet scent that adorned it filled his lungs with just one breath. He barely noticed when she wrapped her arms around his neck and sank her fingers into his brown hair.
“███, your embrace is so… comfortable.”
“Do you think so?”
“Mhm. Enough to make me want to spend the whole day like this. With you.”
A low chuckle escaped her, the grip softening, circles traced as a form of comfort against his back.
“You're so silly...” The tone sounded humorless. “ From the heart. That's probably why I liked you.”
He felt his face burn, his cheeks flushed and his ears warm. This wasn't exactly how he wanted things to flow, not after so many promises and such false hopes. God, he was sucking up some strength to at least appear a little more confident, and not the idiot who trembles under the arms of the girl he likes.
“I... I bought a present that reminded me of you. On my way here, I mean.” He tried to pull out of the embrace, a crooked smile between his lips. “In looks, because it was pretty, but also 'cause it was cute, so I thought that—”
The sentence is cut in half.
Blood.
Blood?
The metallic taste invades his mouth. Suddenly, it becomes tactile against his tongue, mixed with a dense, liquid feeling. His gaze dropped ever so slowly downwards.
A thick, long membrane hits him in the torso, directly in the chest. The chill under his fingers is present when he belatedly realizes that the other one has pulled away. Blood trickles down his chin and he shakes, losing his balance from shock, his feet sliding weakly on the floor. Minato still tries, however, to stand up again, fingers grasping the thing that had gone through him and pushing — without a damn success. Sliding like a puppet, words unable to be spoken.
“W-Why would you do that?”
His face seems to ask as much as his lips taciturnly moving, interrupted by fractions of weak coughs from all the blood accumulated in his throat. His hands continue to crawl, groping his own torso, the membrane that lifts him up, only staining the scene crimson red more and more. Moving quickly takes an immense amount of energy on his part, the weakened gaze staring at the silhouette above.
The kind face disappeared some time ago, the wide, tall form of an indistinguishable creature leaning over the human revealing itself in the dim light. Eight legs in total: four front, four back. Exceeding three meters, frighteningly rigid, raised in front of him, thin and flexible like those of a spider. The way they passed through him with ease only confirms their fatality. They move with some agility and seem unwieldy.
As soon as the thing lifts him seven feet off the ground, still in agony, he can see in detail what makes his coughing worse and the horror morph on his face: a human torso above, and an arachnid underneath. An extra pair of eyes just beyond the existing ones with black sclera, two pairs of pointed chelicerae and slits in its mouth that made it even larger. Although humanoid, the figure looked more like an aberration. The rips in the pink dress became more evident as the form moved its muscles under the fabric, its bone structure gaining a change in its tissues and fibers under snaps and tearing flesh.
“What did you… What did you do to her—”
Another snap of flesh being violently pierced echoes, one of the spider legs going through the center of his throat. The silent scream is broken by a choking sound. The life drains from his eyes in a gradual manner, the pupil not targeting any specific point. There is a slight flicker before his fingers slide lifelessly and arms are thrown to his sides, head tipped back.
There is a deliberate pause before the night silence, the four eyes blinking curiously as the heartbeat finally ceases. Shaking the corpse with some haste, the torso towered over him with an unreadable hideous countenance. The sound of the headphones falling to the ground as it slipped off the body made a pitiful echo in the vastness of those tracks.
“It's a shame, really...” The melancholy murmur sounded heartfelt.
The snap of the jaw becomes more visceral and abrupt as it closes around the head, bones breaking in a single bite.
Now, the crunching, cracking sound of parts of the bone structure echo throughout the station, these coming from the direction where the nearest lighting doesn't reach. Nothing but the trail of blood on the floor and scratches on the walls indicate signs of any presence that were there. Long after eleven, no other subway would be coming any time soon. The only passers-by walked many feet ahead, unable to hear or see whatever happened there.