"How's that thing doing?" An elderly man shuffled into the sterile, brightly lit laboratory, his white coat a stark contrast to the dimness of the evening sky visible through the small, high-set windows. His footsteps echoed softly against the polished floor as he made his way toward one of the researchers, a determined look set upon his weathered face.

"Same as always," the woman responded, her tone weary and laced with frustration. She placed her clipboard down with a thud, the pen clipped to it rattling slightly. Turning to her side, she cast a long, scrutinizing glance at the other end of the room. There, encased in a glass cylinder filled with a viscous, translucent fluid, was a writhing black substance. It seemed to pulse and slither, as if alive, yet impossibly alien. Beside it lay a corpse, a man in his mid-thirties, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, a stark reminder of the fragility of human existence.

"So far, our results are null. No progress," the woman continued, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and determination. "At this rate, we have nothing to present to the board, the directors, or the prime minister. We're running out of time." She took a step back and leaned against the counter, her eyes never leaving the eerie, almost sentient black substance. It moved with an unsettling grace, like a dark, flowing river contained within the confines of the small room.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled only by the soft hum of the laboratory equipment and the occasional, faint slither of the black substance. The elderly man and the researcher stood there, two figures dwarfed by the enormity of their task, yet bound by their unyielding determination to uncover the secrets held within that enigmatic, inky mass.

As the heavy silence lingered in the laboratory, it was broken by the woman, her voice trembling slightly with frustration. "I don't understand... Why do we need to create such... a lifeform, Takehashi?" Her face contorted with uncertainty and disdain as she continued to stare at the black substance.

"We don't know for sure," the elderly man, Takehashi, replied gravely. His eyes, tired yet determined, bore into the writhing mass. "But all I know is that we must finish this and tame this thing. You know what happens to those who fail expectations..." He took a deliberate step forward, his presence almost challenging the malevolent entity behind the glass.

"We're playing God, Takehashi," the woman said, her tone rising in exasperation. "Devils are already a pain in the ass and a terror to humanity. We don't need to create one like them just to further expand more destruction and chaos." Her voice echoed slightly in the sterile room, amplifying the gravity of her words.

Takehashi's expression hardened as he turned to face her. "Rika, it is not in our position to deny or object. We're just mere researchers and scientists. We can only do as we are told." His voice was cold, devoid of any hint of rebellion. His eyes never once left the black substance, which seemed to react to his unwavering gaze.

The black substance abruptly halted its sinuous movements, its amorphous body spiking up as though suddenly feeling hostile and defensive. It pulsated with a malevolent energy, like a predator sizing up its prey, its intangible eyes locked onto the elderly man with an almost palpable hostility.

The tension in the room thickened, the air heavy with unspoken fears and burdens. Takehashi and Rika stood there, bound by their duty yet torn by their consciences, facing the unknown with a mixture of dread and determination. In that moment, the line between creation and destruction blurred, leaving them teetering on the edge of an abyss that threatened to consume them all.

Meanwhile... Somewhere else.

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"You little bastard! Come back here!" 

A young girl, seemingly around 14-15 years old, darted through the crowded streets, her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes wide with fear and determination, she glanced over her shoulder at the group of young men chasing after her.

She pushed her way through the throngs of people, her small frame colliding with strangers who shouted in surprise and annoyance. She stumbled but quickly regained her balance, her breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The bustling marketplace offered little refuge as she wove through the mass of humanity, desperate to lose her pursuers.

"There! I saw her turn there!" One of the civilians she had bumped into pointed in the direction she had fled, his voice cutting through the cacophony of the marketplace. The group of men veered sharply, following the new lead.

"That guy..." she muttered under her breath, a mixture of resentment and frustration in her voice. Her pace quickened, but her legs were beginning to tire. She had to find a place to hide, and fast.

Rounding a corner, her foot caught on a protruding pipe, sending her sprawling to the ground. She collided with the unforgiving surface, her forehead striking the edge of a metal dumpster with a sickening thud.

"Ow..." she hissed in pain, clutching her forehead as she felt the warm trickle of blood oozing from the fresh wound. The hand that had been clutching the stolen leather wallet loosened, the precious item slipping from her grasp. "This is just great..." she cursed softly, her eyes darting to the metal dumpster and the jagged piece of broken glass sticking out from its lid.

Behind her, the sound of approaching footsteps sent a surge of panic through her veins. She tried to push herself up, her movements frantic as she reached for the wallet. Before she could grasp it, a heavy foot landed on her hand, pinning it to the ground.

"Ya really think ya can escape, huh, ya little fucking whore?" The man sneered down at her, his face twisted with anger and contempt. He lifted his foot and then brought it down again, stomping on her hand with a cruel force.

The young girl bit back a cry, refusing to give her tormentors the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. She glared up at the man, her eyes blazing with defiance even as tears threatened to spill over.

"Think ya can just steal from me and expect no consequences, huh, little fucker?" The man leaned in close to the young girl's face, his breath hot and rancid. Spit flew from his mouth as he barked out the words, his glare filled with venom. The young girl, barely in her teens, met his gaze steadily, her lips trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

"Tch..." The man clicked his tongue in annoyance, turning to look over at his companions. His expression was one of pure irritation. "Round her up, boys. Teach 'tis little thief a lesson." He gestured with a sharp motion of his hand, lifting his foot and then delivering a brutal kick to the girl's side, sending her sprawling onto the filthy pavement.

The young girl stumbled back, a small groan escaping her lips as pain radiated through her body. Her face throbbed from the force of the kick, and she struggled to catch her breath. Moments later, two of the men flanked her, each grabbing one of her arms and hauling her up from the dirty, wet ground. She squirmed in their grip, but their hold was unyielding.

The first man stepped forward, his face twisted in a cruel grin. "Ain't no way you'll be stealing anymore, ya little dumb fucker." He raised his fist, the muscles in his arm tensing as he prepared to strike. His punch connected with her cheek, the impact snapping her head to the side. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, staining her lips.

Despite the pain, the young girl turned to look back at him, her eyes burning with a mix of fear and resentment. The alleyway was dimly lit, the flickering streetlights casting eerie shadows on the walls. The men loomed over her, their faces obscured by darkness, but their intentions were all too clear.

The young girl's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing as she searched for a way out of the nightmare. She refused to show weakness, even as the odds seemed insurmountable.

Later...

"Tch... That'll teach her a lesson." The men muttered among themselves, their voices fading into the distance as they finally left the young girl alone in the grimy alley. She lay there, battered and bruised from their rough treatment. Her body ached and throbbed all over, and even the slightest twitch or inch of movement sent waves of excruciating pain coursing through her.

So she lay there, unmoving, staring up at the night sky obscured by the tall buildings around her. As the seconds turned into minutes, her thoughts whirled chaotically, trying to piece together how she had ended up in this dire situation. Everything had been good, better even, until that fateful incident had forced her into this life of hardship and danger.

One name kept reverberating through her mind: Denji.

"... Hah... You... you ruined everything," she whispered weakly, her voice barely audible. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she felt a surge of resentment building within her, the pain of her injuries momentarily forgotten.

"... I'll make you pay... Chainsaw Man," she vowed, her voice gaining strength despite her battered state filled with a determination that belied her weakened condition, a promise of retribution that echoed through the empty alleyway.

The young girl lay there, her mind now focused on one goal. In the quiet darkness, her resolve hardened, and she knew that she would stop at nothing to achieve her revenge.