The building was a small, gutted warehouse—nothing but rusted beams, hanging chains, and an oil lantern flickering from a makeshift hook on the ceiling. The sound of rain was shallow.
The man led them inside without a word, pushing the door shut behind them with the heel of his boot. He struck a match, lit a second lantern, and hung it from a bent hook on the wall. The new glow filled the space with a dim amber warmth—just bright enough to reveal the minimal setup of the place. A bedroll and two crates serving as seats. Another crate placed in the corner with guns laid on top: polished revolvers, ammunition in small leather pouches, a long rifle wrapped in cloth.
"Sit..." The man commanded.
Ren looked back at Eva before sitting on one of the crates. Eva followed, drifting to Ren's side and kneeling at his side, her hands hovering over his wounded arm.
"Let me..." She whispered.
Hesitant at first, Ren allowed her with a subtle nod. Eva peeled back his sleeve to inspect the wound, her fingertips brushing against his skin. The wound was already sealing itself off.
The man leaned against a support beam, watching as Eva tended to the wound.
"You two got names?"
Ren narrowed his eyes.
"…Ren."
The man nodded at him, then turned to Eva.
"And you?"
"…Eva."
"Been a while since I've last seen someone dodge a bullet like that." The man said, voice low and gravel-scratched. He pointed a gloved finger toward Ren's bleeding wound. "Didn't even think about it back there, did you? Before jumpin' up at me like that?"
Ren remained silent.
"Thought so..."
The man crouched near a fire tin, tossing a piece of scrap wood onto the embers to stir them back to life. Sparks rose and flickered to life.
"When a man don't think before he acts, you're lookin' at pure instinct." He tapped a finger to his temple. "And instinct don't lie."
Eva pulled back as Ren flexed his healed arm, testing the movement.
"Instinct..." Ren looked up at the man with revulsion. "If instinct were never wrong...how come yours was? You aimed at me—and at her. If I hadn't dodged that bullet back there, we'd both be regenerating from a pool of blood right now."
The man exhaled, dragging a finger along the brim of his hat before tilting it back.
"Don't get full of yourself, son." His voice was calm. "You're alive because I chose to."
"Chose to?" Ren questioned. "You say that after putting a gun to my head?
"And your still here..." The man answered bluntly. "That sure about answers any concerns."
Ren fell silent after that.
"One shot..." The man stated, lifting a finger. "One shot—one reaction—tells me everything."
"That doesn't make any sense. A single reaction can't tell you everything...Anyone would panic with a gun to their head. That doesn't mean that they're gone. It just means—"
Ren paused mid-sentence when he noticed Eva's alertness. It was subtle, barely to be called a movement. But her shoulders stiffened, and her fingers tightened against his sleeve.
"…Ren." She whispered.
"What is it?"
The man straightened, pushing off the support beam and reaching for the crate of weapons, fingers brushing over the wrapped rifle.
"So you can sense 'em too, lil' miss?" The man lifted the rifle and let it rest lightly against his shoulder, thumb brushing the hammer as he gazed at Eva. "That's some good news..."
The man glanced out of one of the windows, and back to them. "You two able to fight?"
Eva's shoulders seeped at the man's words.
She looked up at Ren, fingers clenching down on the fabric of his cloak.
"…Ren—"
"I know..." He turned to her, lowering his voice. "Don't worry about it..."
Ren looked up to the man. "I can."
"What about you, miss?"
"She doesn't want to..."
Eva looked up at the man, expecting some kind of insult.
"A shame...seemed you had some firepower to you."
Ren rose to his feet that instant, and reached to his side.
But his hand closed around nothing.
He tried again—lower this time, fingers searching where stone should have been.
'My dagger? Where did it go? I swear I—'
"I had a dagger..." He muttered.
"Had?" The man repeated. "Not the time for past tense, son."
The man blew out the lantern near the door. The warehouse plunged into half-darkness, the rain outside suddenly drowned by faint moans. The man's eye flicked back to Ren.
"Ever fire a gun before?"
"…No."
The man unshouldered the rifle in a smooth motion and tossed it across the space, landing right into Ren's hands.
The man was already moving past him to the door, boots crunching with each step.
"Then figure it out."
The man stopped at the front door, and drew a revolver, clicking back the hammer.
As Ren stepped behind the man, the man pulled the door open just a few inches, rain hissing through the gap that instant. Gesturing Ren forward with two fingers, the two of them stepped outside, leaving Eva all alone in that cold, pitch-black warehouse.
She hugged her knees closer, listening. Every drop of rain sounded like a heartbeat. She could feel them all—out there, beyond the thin walls of the warehouse, moving with that same wrongness, that same relentless presence that pressed on the edges of her mind.
Outside, the vast city beyond the warehouse was a blur, shadows shifting unnaturally in the downpour. Ren stood there, rifle awkward in his hold. The man stood just a step ahead, revolver held at his side. The man's single eye scanned, vague figures coming more and more into view. The man spoke just loud enough for Ren to hear under the rain.
"These things ain't human no more…"