In the dead of night, in the witching hours when birds roost and foxes lurk through the forests of the English countryside, an ominous wind stalks the leaves. In these times, all is supposed to be silent and the air crisp, but not this evening. Tonight, the sound of peace is interrupted by an abrupt symphony of splintered wood and crashing tree's echoing through the moonlit autumn forest. The cause; a titanic beast being launched through the woods, its gargantuan, bulbous body painting a trail of destruction in its wake. The carnage continues until the monster's tendrils dig into the earth and grip, generating drag and slowing the creature's unwilling travel. The monster is a behemoth, a red body in the shape of a tomato fruit, veins visible on the orb that pump a dark blue substance under the stretched out skin of the beast. several green tendrils protrude from the body, all growing from the same point and resembling a tomato's sepal. In The center of the mass of tendrils, an octopus's circular maw can be found, full of razor sharp teeth willing to maim and rip to shreds anything and anyone that gets close enough. The abomination resembles a grotesque mockery of a tomato, the size of a car with tendrils that span a house. The false fruit begins to stretch out the tentacles and lift itself up from atop them, balanced on the protrusions whilst tensing itself for a true monster, one strutting out of the path cleared by the tomato's flailing form, a devilish smirk across their lips. A monster in the shape of a human.

“Did you know tomatoes were once believed to be poisonous?” the figure asks in a feminine voice, curiosity and a drop of mockery in her tone. The tomato responds to the question by letting out a guttural, high pitch screech similar to that of a bats before launching an assault of green on the target. Whipping green tendrils pursue the woman, slamming against the ground and forming dust clouds where the assailant once stood. The monster hunter is unfazed by this attack, simply weaving in between the blows with easy hops and remaining unscathed despite the barrage of blows, only signs of activity being patches of dirt on her clothes.

“- You see, it all has to do with the plates! The crockeries reaction when with the tomatoes made the plant poisonous to a fatal degree. Plus, the green parts of a tomato are poisonous, but that’s neither here nor there-” the person rambles about this history factoid whilst the fruit-like demon carries on flailing it’s tendrils at the target, changing it's assault strategy of vertical slams for a pair of horizontal swings. The first swing is close to the ground, aiming for a leg sweep, the other a bit higher to strike the head. The target reacts by leaping over the first tendril and bounding their body off the second tendril, leaping skyward and flying over the tomato.

“But then- HUP- of course, they figured out the truth-” 

The person carries on talking mid air, the tomato turning it's underside skyward and aiming the maw at the leaping pursuer. The creature readies a liquid attack, firing a tomato juice shot filled with seeds. The shot is aimed at the air, the target swinging their arms in a clawing motion whilst at least fifteen feet out of range, as the gunk shot is sliced into five horizontal pieces. Then, the tomato feels five cuts across its body, spurts of blue liquid shooting out of the wound.

“- that you are-”

The hunter lands directly on the beast, the tomato feeling a puncture on their body as a blue geyser erupts out of the monster, letting out a squeal as the fist of their adversary is driven into its bulb body.

“- WEAK!” The hunter decries before the hunted monster is then booted by this woman, kicked like a football and sending the aberration skidding across the floor and leaving a trail of blue fluid. When the tomato begins to lift itself, they find the hunter casually strutting towards it.

"Centuries ago, you were up there with nettles and hemlock. Now, look at you. Can’t even muster up the aetherplasm to form the intelligence required to speak. Weak. Pathetic. Frail!" She screams, disappointment evident in her tone as she raises her arms skyward, one still dripping with blue blood.

The beast lets out faint screeches as it shambles up, tentacles twitchy and buckling as the dark blue liquid streams out of the rotund body like a waterfall. Two puncture marks are clear on the tomato's body, one from the punch and one from the kick, both heavily dripping the blue fluid. That's not to mention the titanic claw mark that manifested out nowhere. Before the beast can properly act, another sting intrudes the tomato as a boot drives itself through the monster's body, piercing directly through the bulb. The dark-blue spray that follows is like a hydraulic press causing liquid to escape compression, spewing out like a geyser.

The woman stares down at what remains after the heavy puncture her foot, fist and apparent claw just left in the ghost. A slight pause follows as the lady takes a breath as light blue particles start to float off the tomato ghost's body, the ghost feeling itself rotting away. The woman stretches, takes a breath, then puts a hand on her chest as she talks, looking down at the tomato victim with a casual smile.

"I brag, but I suppose I am not one to talk, being bound to this vessel and all. But hey, that's not forever. Not too different from how in your next incarnation, when someone has a tomato related trauma, you'll be back and better than ever! Who knows, maybe a pillory will be used and someone lobs one at the criminal!" She jokes to the disintegrating corpse whilst facing away from the bright waning moon, making her only a silhouette to the tomato.

She looks up to the sky, taking a breath.

"My situation is more complicated, though. In order for me to return, I gotta get more pieces in place. No hurry though. Man didn't last this long from sprinting after their prey, so I will take it slow as well..."

Finally, the tomato’s vision goes dark as all that remains is a slowly disintegrating body, The woman playfully tapping the corpse with her foot a few times. The last thing the creature hears in this life is as follows;

“To think a thing that was once a greater spirit could fall so low. How pathetic.”

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