The lab had become a warzone. Callidora stood at the center, her dress torn at the hem, her skin scratched and marked by shallow cuts and scorch marks, but her eyes still burned, crimson and undeterred. Her grin was broader now, not playful anymore, but wicked, hungry, triumphant.
The cheetah-like ninja darted toward her once more, faster than any eye could follow. It launched twin kunai, one aimed for her throat, the other for her chest, but Callidora side-stepped the first, caught the second midair, and surged forward in a blur of shadows. The feline did not even get the chance to react. With monstrous speed, she tackled the creature mid-leap, pinning it to the floor. Her claws plunged into its abdomen, rending through ninja cloth, muscle, and cybernetics beneath. It screamed. She twisted her hand inside the beast's gut and yanked. Blood and oil sprayed across the floor in a sickening mixture as she hurled its twitching body at the mite-knight, slamming both into the wall. The cheetah did not get up. Its insides steamed, ruined beyond repair. Callidora stood straight again, her hands soaked.
"That is one."
The turtle roared in response, swinging its massive shell horizontally. Callidora ducked under the arc, closed the distance in a blur, and drove her clawed fingers toward the center of its glass-wrapped ribs. However, the mite returned, weapons spinning wildly, forcing her back with a flurry of slashes. She ducked, dodged, and leapt, every move a blur of speed and fury. A blade cut across her shoulder. Another scraped her hip. Yet she did not slow. Instead, she turned the mite's own momentum against it, ducking under a swing of its war pick, grabbing its axe-wielding wrist, and spinning the entire creature into the path of the turtle's next charge. CRACK! The turtle smashed into its ally, sending both sprawling.
Callidora did not wait. She grabbed a steel pipe from the ground and hurled it through the turtle's glass chest, shattering the protective shell around its organs. The turtle stumbled, vulnerable, but just as she prepared to finish it. Thunk! Something hit her from behind. She staggered. The air behind her shimmered. Then it unfolded. Emerging from what seemed like the air itself was a fourth figure, one she had not seen before, had not sensed.
It was a humanoid chameleon, its skin a mutable spectrum of iridescent green and violet. Its body was armored in organic plates that curved and flexed with its movement. Two long fingers held a glowing glaive of ultraviolet energy. Its long tail whipped behind it for balance as it moved with unnatural grace, half martial artist, half predator.
"You were not on the guest list," Callidora hissed, turning toward him.
It was too late for her. The chameleon spun, tail sweeping her legs from under her. As she fell, the glaive came down, not to pierce, but to strike her skull with the blunt end, sending a shockwave of force through her head. Everything tilted. She staggered to her feet, only to be kicked backward by the chameleon's double-jointed legs. She slammed into a generator, cracking its shell. The chameleon struck her twelve times in a blur, knees, elbows, tail, glaive. Every strike hit a nerve cluster. Every blow stole control of her limbs. She collapsed to her knee. As she tried to rise one final time, the chameleon grabbed the back of her head.
"Ilya told me to keep you alive."
He drove her face-first into the steel floor. Everything went black.
The laboratory lights pulsed a pale green. Steam hissed through vents in the walls, and panels along the floor clicked into place with mechanical precision as the facility began to stabilize after the chaos of battle. Callidora's unconscious body lay sprawled at the center of a lowering platform. The chameleon stood over her like a silent sentinel, its breathing even and undisturbed, skin blending into the metal around it with fluid camouflage. A cylindrical glass chamber rose from the floor around Callidora, locking into place with a pressurized seal. From the upper balcony, Ilya watched, expression unreadable behind gold-rimmed goggles.
"Perfect specimen," he muttered, adjusting a dial on his gauntlet. "Begin neural override sequence."
Callidora's body convulsed gently as thin needles descended from the chamber ceiling, plunging into her neck and spine. A green liquid began to flow. Her eyes fluttered open, groggy, furious, but she could not move.
"Welcome back," Ilya said, descending a staircase toward her. "I hope you had your fun."
Callidora growled, her fangs bared. "You… worm."
"Oh, I wouldn't say insults if I were you, my dear," Ilya said lightly, , placing his palm on the glass.
Behind him, the surviving creatures, which were the turtle, the mite, and the chameleon, stood silently, like living statues. Their bodies still bore damage from the fight. Sparks flared from torn joints. Greenish fluids leaked from fractures in their armor. None of them dared move.
"Now then," Ilya said, turning toward them. "Time for our little reminder."
He raised his watch and pressed a glowing symbol. Instantly, all three creatures shuddered violently. Electric veins of pain shot through their bodies, seizing them up. The turtle dropped its shell and fell to one knee, growling in a low, rattling groan. The mite let out a metallic shriek as each of its six arms convulsed out of sync. The chameleon clenched its fists but did not cry out, though its camouflaged skin flickered with instability. Ilya watched, emotionless.
"I made you. I rebuilt you, and I can take all of that away."
He released the symbol. The pain stopped. The three creatures collapsed to their knees, breathing heavily.
"I do not do this because I enjoy it," he said, turning his back to them. "I do it so that you do not forget that you are not free…and I also do actually enjoy it."
He looked back at Callidora, who watched him through the glass, still unable to move.
"You will be the crown jewel of my collection," he whispered. "The vampire queen.. mine."
She hissed.
Ilya smiled slightly.
"That is the spirit. Rage will keep your mind intact longer, and I want you very intact."
He turned back to his console and typed a command.
"Let's begin."
But before his machines get to work, he heard a banging sound coming from the door of the lab. Ilya deactivated his machines.
"Oh, what now?" he muttered as he went to open the door.
- -
The battlefield was smoldering. Burnt flesh and ash floated through the air like black snow. The charred remains of hundreds of vampires littered the grasslands of Wayland Woods. Lillian flicked open her revolver. The chambers were empty, smoking, blackened from overuse. She let out a long breath and leaned her weight against the barrel of the gun, wiping soot from her cheek with a gloved hand.
"Is… is that the last of them?" Blanchette asked, her flaming sword still crackling as she held it by her side.
Ash painted her white shirt, and a few stray embers clung to her crimson hair.
"For now," Cullen said, his pistols still raised in case any stragglers emerged.
His eyes scanned the horizon. Albus stepped forward, his bracelet dimming at last. The fireballs he had conjured were gone, leaving his hands trembling and his shoulders hunched from exhaustion. Adolfo stood nearby, hulking and ragged, his werewolf form still present. His massive frame was hunched over, clawed hands curled and twitching from the lingering adrenaline. Fur matted with gore. His eyes burned with animal fury, but there was also clarity in them. He is in control.
"We did not see her," Lillian said suddenly, her voice low.
She stood upright again, adjusting her hat.
"Callidora. We fought through her whole damned army and never caught sight of her."
"She is planning something," Cullen muttered. "No way she would send this many and not show up to savor it."
Blanchette nodded, swallowing hard. "What if… what if she is gone to turn more? Or she is already working on something worse?"
A heavy rumble escaped Adolfo's throat. He lifted his head and sniffed the air. Once. Twice. Everyone turned.
"I remember her scent," he growled, voice distorted through his snout but unmistakably clear. "I can follow it."
"You sure?" Lillian asked, tightening her grip on her empty revolver.
Adolfo nodded slowly. "Yes, the trail is faint, but it is strong enough for now. Follow me. If we move now, we can still catch her."
Lillian exhaled through her nose and clicked her revolver shut.
"Then what the hell are we waiting for?"
Albus gave a grim nod, summoning a smaller fireball to hover near his shoulder for light.
"Let's hunt her down."
They began to move, silent shadows cutting across the charred earth, chasing the trail of a monster who never stayed still for long.
The road ahead was quiet, save for the low hum of the wind through scorched trees. The ground beneath their feet was still warm with the aftermath of fire. They moved as one, five shadows lit by Albus's floating orb of flame, heading through the twilight haze. Adolfo, still in his werewolf form, lumbered silently beside Lillian. The others were several paces behind. His massive shoulders rolled with each step, muscles flexing under matted fur. Yet his movements were calm. Lillian glanced up at him, the brim of her hat casting a shadow over her tired eyes. She twirled her revolver idly.
"You always this quiet after a fight?" she asked.
Adolfo's ears twitched slightly.
"Usually."
There was a pause. Only their footsteps broke the silence.
Lillian smirked faintly.
"Not much of a talker, are ya?"
Another pause. The wind stirred the leaves.
"You fought well back there," she said, more sincerely this time. "You were in control for once."
Adolfo's gaze softened, his golden eyes reflecting the dim glow of Albus's fire orb.
"I learned I guess," he murmured.
"You mean the purification thing?" she asked.
He nodded. Lillian looked at his werewolf eyes.
"Was it… hard?" she asked. "Living with all that hunger inside?"
Adolfo's eyes lowered.
"Every second."
She did not speak for a moment.
Then, softly: "I get it. Not in the same way, but I got my own demons. Used to think the best way to handle them was to bury them deep and shoot anything that tried to dig 'em up."
Adolfo gave a low, dry growl that almost resembled a chuckle.
"I would have guessed," he said. "You carry yourself like a storm in a holster."
Lillian raised an eyebrow.
"That supposed to be a compliment?"
He tilted his large, furred head.
"If you want it to be"
She laughed, quiet, but genuine. For a while, they walked without words. Just the steady rhythm of boots and paws, the warm orb flickering behind them. Then, Adolfo spoke again, voice low.
"When this is over… if we survive it… what will you do?"
Lillian did not answer immediately. She stared ahead, at the dark horizon where Callidora had vanished.
"I always thought protecting my people was my full story," she said. "She took everything, most of it."
Adolfo looked at her. "So what now?"
Lillian sighed.
"Now, I am not so sure. You… Blanchette, Albus and Cullen. I have not felt part of something in a long time."
She met his gaze again.
"And you? What will you do if you make it out of this alive?"
His eyes lingered on hers for a long, still moment.
"I do not know. I was asking you to get some ideas," he said. "But… maybe I would like to find out. With someone."
Her heart thudded once, deep in her chest.
She looked away quickly, then smirked, pretending to brush ash off her coat.
"Well… just do not go dying before we figure that out, furball."
Adolfo gave a quiet, amused rumble.
"I am not planning on it, cowgirl."
The space between them had changed, something warm flickering there like the last ember of a long fire. A beginning. They walked on.
Adolfo's nose twitched, head lowering as he slowed.
"They are close," he murmured, voice a low growl.
The others raised their weapons instinctively. They stepped past a grove of scorched pines and froze. Half-hidden behind the tree trunks and patches of smoke, a cluster of pale faces glared back at them. Vampires. Their blood-red eyes glinted, fangs bared. Around them huddled several trembling humans, bound and gagged.
Lillian did not waste any time. Her revolver barked once, the bullet tearing through the first vampire's chest. The rest shrieked and lunged forward. Adolfo slammed into two at once, claws raking deep as his massive form pinned them into the dirt. Cullen drew both pistols in a smooth, practiced motion, firing in rapid succession, setting the vampires ablaze from the inside out. Blanchette's fire sword hissed as it cut through the air, cleaving one vampire nearly in half before she pivoted to meet another. Albus spun, flames coiling from his fingertips into fireballs that ignited any vampire that. Lillian's boots scraped over ash as she ducked under a swiping claw, driving the barrel of her gun into the vampire's mouth before pulling the trigger.
When it was over, one remained, on his knees, panting, the cold barrel of Cullen's pistol pressed to his temple.
"Where is she? Where is Callidora?" Cullen asked, voice flat and dangerous.
"I-I do not know," the vampire stammered.
The hammer clicked back. The vampire whimpered.
"She… she is in the lab!" he finally spat. "Over there! Big steel doors!"
Cullen killed the vampire instantly after that. Minutes later, they stood before the door.
Adolfo's ears flicked, his nose working the air.
"She is here," he growled.
Lillian spun her revolver once, the empty click of its cylinder echoing in the quiet.
"Then we knock."
Blanchette's fire sword and Albus's floating orb of fire painted the door in restless shadows. Cullen kept both pistols raised, his eyes locked on the sealed entrance. Adolfo's claws curled into fists. He slammed one massive paw against the steel, the impact ringing through the air like a drumbeat. Somewhere inside, Callidora was waiting.