"How long have we got to stay in this musty-ass warehouse? The longer I sit here the more I hear the rats in the walls." A brunette woman outfitted in camouflage clothing and gear spoke up while inspecting the ruined wooden walls. Rodent feces aligned the floor at her feet like peppered coffee grounds spilled onto a table.

"It's only for the night Em. As soon as the sun rises, we'll be out of here. You know that, so stop complaining. Sides, we've gone through worse. Don't tell me you're gettin too old for this job." The retort was provided by a large man, similarly fashioned to match his companion. A torrent of rain pounded against the exterior metal sheeting, delivering a thunderous clatter to the buildings occupants.

"Yeah, I know. I just hate little nasty pests like that... they're so creepy. Hope this storm lets up soon. Don't know how anyone could expect us to sleep through this."

A lamp placed in the center of the room provided a comforting glow to an otherwise miserable atmosphere. Emily moved towards the light and hovered over it, orienting her hands near the surface to grasp for any morsel of warmth. Her teeth still trembled even after changing out of her initial pair of now-soaked clothing. After a while, she dug into the bag slung across her shoulder and pulled out a letter. Studying it closely, she cast an unamused expression in the direction of her comrade before returning the item to its place.

"This better be worth the trouble Jordan. I'm talkin about a payout I can retire on. Chasing these critters all over the country gets so... exhausting."

She released a subtle yawn as her shoulders slouched. Her tired eyes tracked the nigh-inaudible sound of a rat scurrying along the corner of the room. In its jaw it held the corpse of a mouse, its skull punctured as it dangled from the maw of its captor. The creature continued its pace before pausing and observing the shadows in front of it. From the darkness emerged a larger rat, one that dwarfed the other by comparison. The black beady eyes of the beast bore into its kin while it lunged upon its victim, mercilessly wrestling with its prey then turning it over and sinking its teeth into the soft underbelly.

"Jesus," Emily muttered under her breath.

At the same time, Jordan was occupied with setting up his sleeping bag. He tussled with the zipper for a while, finding trouble with it.

"The payout from the hunt is known to be high. Chill out for once won't you? We'll have a nice vacation somewhere in the snowy mountains. Log cabin with a warm fireplace and a big flatscreen TV. Now that... I'll be getting some sweet football watching done on that. Shit, maybe I can hang up some of the freaks on the wall. Some of the hairy ones could make for a fine pelt too."

Jordan chuckled as he envisioned his future. After finally winning the wrestling match he'd had with his sleeping bag zipper he wandered to the lamp light and greeted Emily with a smile.

"Huh, it is kinda warm. Nothing better than not having hypothermia huh," He said with a wink.

"I'd know better than you. I'll be happy if I never have to hunt Yeti's in the Himalayas again. Log cabin in the mountains is fine and all, but me personally? I'll be somewhere more tropical, shoot me a postcard."

"And who's meant to keep me in check? I'll tear shit up if left to my own devices, you know that," Jordan replied, a smirk unfolding across his face. He brushed back his wet hair with his hand, adjusting the strands away from his ears.

"By that you mean you never learned how to do your own laundry, never got around to doing the things your mother did for you. Get real," She responded with a roll of the eyes.

"Damn... that's a low blow. Think I'm gonna move on and not let myself get burned again. So... Want a marshmallow? I've got a few that aren't ruined. Momma taught me how to pack properly, that much I can say with my chest."

Having unveiled a plastic bag from his pouch, the two plucked several marshmallows out and began to chew. As the storm raged on and the trees and shrubbery shook, something stood out among the ruckus. Although hard to hear at first, a repeated thumping emerged from the front doors of the building.

"Wait, wait... do you hear that?" Emily stood alert, all the while Jordan leisurely pointed his head in the direction of the sound.

"Eh? Just the wind I imagine." Jordan nonchalantly popped another marshmallow into his mouth.

The pair froze as another set of knocks pounded against the front doors. This time the noise was more forceful, somehow drowning out the wind and rain that throttled the outside world.

"Just the wind, right?"

Emily cautiously uttered each word as if they could be her last. The two of them felt their skin crawl as the hairs on their arms stood. Something awful forced itself into their consciousness, a sickening sense of dread that pushed through their body like a thousand hands crawling forward across a dirty floor. It was the ultimate invasion. One akin to forcing your finger inside an open flesh wound. A horrific entry that makes someone desperate to squirm and break free even as they're held down by cold leather straps.

The sensation was enough to make Emily gag. She gripped her throat while it tightened, weak coughs bursting from between her clenched teeth. To Jordan, the experience was tantamount to drowning. Terror pumped into his lungs like streams of mucus. If he'd got his leg caught and pulled under by the jaws of a shark, even that would pale in comparison to what he was currently confronted with. A burning pain in his chest, an unforgiving breach in his mind.

Then a third set of knocks came.

"Do... you feel that Jordan? It's...," Emily began, her voice a quivering mess when she spoke. Her eyes began to dart around now, every shadow appearing to her like an abyss she could suffocate in.

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"Hatred. Violence. This kind of aura... it's the kind that clings to your skin and drips into your pores. The kind where you have to scrub your body for hours to remove it." Jordan slowly walked forward, his once calm demeanor replaced with uncertainty. He knew that something deadly lay on the other side of the door. The closer he got to the origin of his immense anxiety, the worse his nausea became.

With each step he took his heart beat faster. Not even the howling winds could distract him from the immense pressure popping in his ears. If Emily were talking he wasn't aware. He was encapsulated within a bubble of silence. His vision narrowed to only what was in front of him, and tearing his attention away was impossible. Like an image contained within a picture, he was captured by the design of something gnarly and impure.

When he arrived at the terrible set of doors and extended his hand to open them, a fourth knocking arrived. With them came the creak of the doors opening from the outside. A thick fog drifted in and swirled around Jordan's feet. Despite it all he remained perfectly still. Regardless of his quickening breathing the man became petrified while his eyes locked onto the enormous shadowy figure before him. An abnormally large pair of arms rushed forth from the darkness.

Only then did he scream.

Two hands grabbed Jordan's and began to pull in opposite directions. Skin and tissue tore down the middle while his bone cracked in the process. Blood poured from the split while his hand was further fractured. He roared in agony and tried to pull away from his aggressor to no avail. When the tear reached his wrist a chunk of bone split down his forearm under the force of his assailant. White shards pierced through his flesh and he finally found himself free from the grip of whatever vice held him.

"Jordan?!" Emily screeched from behind as Jordan leapt back. Tears poured from his eyes while he gazed upon the mauled meat that was his right arm. Emily looked up at the figure who committed such a vile act, a man of around eight feet in stature who wore a black vest. His face was hidden behind an old stained hockey mask. All that could be seen of his facial features were the lifeless eyes.

"Fuck, my fucking hand! He ruined my fucking hand!" Jordan clutched at the mangled limb with rage and agony blazing within him. He gritted his teeth to the point of chipping them while bits of skin dangled in the air and blood dripped to the ground.

"It's... Oh God it's him!" Emily's exclamation was quickly followed up with action as she rushed forth.

Her jaw unhinged and her mouth widened to unreal proportions, the interior lined with row after row of teeth. With it, she could ingest nearly any object and also make use of the things she has swallowed. Her stomach acted much like an alternate dimension where she could deposit and withdraw items depending on their relevance to a situation. Hundreds of rounds of ammunition spewed from her lips in the direction of the towering behemoth, the bullets impacting his frame and doing little to move him.

Jordan knelt down and primed his legs for another leap. With incredible force he flung himself in the direction of their foe, delivering a strong kick into the side of its head that could rattle even the sturdiest of buildings. The attack hardly shifted the target's neck, to which Jordan responded by throwing himself to the ground and extending his tongue at blinding speeds. It whipped around the legs of the opponent and, with a hefty swivel of his head, Jordan tried to interfere with the enemy's balance. Once more his offensive was deemed fruitless against the invulnerable wall of power up against him.

"He's toying with us damn it! Conventional attacks won't work on him, they never do," Emily exclaimed.

With little choice, Emily decided to employ a ritual. Through developing the terms and conditions in her head she cast aside the strength and elasticity of her jaw which allowed her to consume people and objects in the first place. In exchange, the power of what she spat from her mouth grew in potency. It was with this decision that the steel cables she threw up punctured the arms and legs of the vested man she'd aimed them at. Hardened and sharpened beyond their typical capacity the metal ripped through his supernaturally strong flesh and bone, binding him to the walls.

Realizing her strategy Jordan similarly activated a ritual through forfeiting his frog-like agility and leg power. In response, the stickiness and grip strength of his tongue were amplified exponentially, and he entangled the opponent's throat with it. With sheer wrath he pulled in the opposite direction aiming to break the neck of his foe, if not outright tear his head from his shoulders.

The vested man stood still and uncaring, unamused by the tactics of his prey. He strained his muscles and with a tug, his raw power overcame even the cables that had surpassed their limits. He grabbed hold of Jordan's tongue and pulled him close, wrapping his fingers around the man's chin. Jordan's cries were muffled as he gagged on his blood, his once stable jaw now crumpled within the hand of his attacker. The vested man pushed his foot into Jordan's leg and caved the bone in, causing another flesh-penetrating fracture near his shin.

Although the hobbled Jordan tried to limp away, he was offered no mercy as his own tongue was wrapped around his throat. Emily's eyes widened and with limited options and time, she rapidly fired several tranquilizer darts. Though the darts struck true and were capable of putting an elephant to sleep, they had no effect in the slightest. The monster they were up against seemed immune to any phenomena that would try to slow him.

To Emily's horror, their attacker revealed a large hunting knife and began to saw at Jordan's neck. Jordan only resisted at first before he went limp and could only gurgle incoherently. Within moments his body fell to the ground with a thud and the man lifted Jordan's decapitated head above him, blood and strands of meat falling and slapping against his hockey mask.

"JORDAN!" Emily screamed his name with unfiltered hatred. She snatched the lamp from the ground and positioned it near her lips. Given the ritual she engaged in prior, her ability to easily and efficiently digest what she ate was reduced drastically. Even still, she didn't care. She didn't care as she bit down on the glass, she didn't care as she swallowed and felt her throat peel and tear and bleed. She didn't care as the hot bulb traveled down her esophagus and scorched her from within.

The vested man began to slowly walk towards her, knife in hand. With the former ritual still in effect, Emily opened her mouth and a heavy stream of fire encompassed the entire body of her object of vengeance, its heat dwarfing even the worst volcanic eruptions. The smell of burning flesh quickly imposed itself upon Emily's nose, yet she still didn't care. She continued to deliver her flame even as burn marks littered her neck.

The blast only stopped as the man emerged from the flame and swiped his blade across her stomach. The gash was deep and wide, and he dug his fingers into her gut with unadulterated force and ripped several feet of her insides out. Emily vomited immediately and fell, her head bouncing off the hard floor.

Emily reached forward and tried to crawl away. She threw out a shrill cry as her executioner stabbed his knife through her entrails that now lay on the ground with such force that the edge sunk into the concrete. The more she moved, the further she was separated from the guts that were continuously ripped from her. Her eyes fluttered, her suffering too taxing to even comprehend. Only when her skull was popped under the crushing weight of the monstrous man's foot did her torment end.

Finally satisfied, the man approached his victim's bags and rummaged through them. He paused upon finding an envelope and after opening it he was greeted with an invitation letter. The contents were short, containing only an address and a signature.

"From Yours Truly, The Circus."