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The Creeper was staring right at Patty too.
Its stolen human eyes flicked around, nostrils flaring as it greedily sniffed the air.
This particular meal smelled… intoxicating.
There was the unmistakable scent of a high-ranking demon on her—something that made every cell in its ancient body scream with hunger. If it could rip out her heart and drink her blood, it knew it would evolve into something it had never been before.
But one thing confused it.
Why wasn't this prey afraid?
Fear was the perfect seasoning. Every other victim it had ever hunted reeked of that sweet, delicious terror the second they saw it.
This one? Nothing.
The Creeper's eyes slid past her to Scott, who was still sprawled on the ground.
From thousands of years of hunting, it knew the trick: kill one meal right in front of the others, and the fear would pour out like aged whiskey.
Hiss—
Its massive fleshy wings snapped open. It launched into the air, diving straight at Scott under the moonlight.
"No! Don't eat me! I've got money!"
Scott's survival instinct kicked in. Adrenaline flooded his veins. Instead of running away, he scrambled straight toward the closest person—Patty.
"Bitch! Block it for me!"
His face twisted into something ugly as he shoved both hands at her chest, trying to hurl her straight into the monster's path as a human shield.
But Patty wasn't some fragile rich girl.
Years of growing up around Dante had sharpened her reflexes and toughened her body. She'd been ready.
The second Scott moved, she shoved Micki aside, rolled, and came up with her compact pistol already drawn and firing in one fluid motion.
BANG!!
A gunshot cracked like thunder.
A spray of black blood exploded from the Creeper's shoulder. The impact knocked it off balance mid-air and sent it crashing hard into the grass.
Micki crawled to her feet, shaking, staring in disbelief.
Patty was on one knee, gripping a tiny chrome pistol, barrel still smoking.
It was her own gun—she'd bought it years ago. Growing up as a demon decoy had left scars; she'd had it custom-made for protection. After the Devil May Cry crew started looking out for her, she'd figured she'd never need it.
Guess she was wrong.
Seeing the monster lying still, Patty walked closer and emptied the rest of the magazine into its head.
Click.
Empty chamber. She slapped in a fresh mag.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Both hands on the grip now, face blank, she kept firing until the Creeper's skull was nothing but shredded meat and bone fragments.
Soren's lazy voice echoed in her head:
In this world, the only good monster is a dead one. Always finish the job.
Click.
Empty again.
Patty lowered the gun and let out a long breath.
"She… she had a gun?" Scott skidded to a stop mid-run. He stared at the pile of gore that used to be the monster, then the relief of still being alive hit him like a truck.
Then he remembered how he'd tried to shove Patty into its jaws. His face burned red with shame and panic.
But he recovered fast.
If I can get that gun, I'm in charge again.
Scott jogged back, trying to look heroic. He kicked the corpse a few times for show.
"Fucking freak! That's what you get for messing with us!"
Then he turned to Patty, straightening his shirt. "Holy shit, Patty! You're amazing! I had no idea you were packing heat like that."
He reached out like he was going to take the pistol from her. "Look, things got crazy back there. I was just trying to draw it away from you—must've bumped you by accident."
"But we're safe now. Something this dangerous shouldn't be in a girl's hands. Let me hold onto it. I'm in a hunting club—I'll protect everyone…"
His eyes were glued to the gun like it was the key to ruling the world.
"Hand it over, Patty. I'll keep us all safe…"
Patty gave him a cold stare full of pure disgust. "Get the hell away from me."
Scott's hand froze mid-air. He forced an awkward laugh and backed off.
"Don't just stand there—let's go!" Kevin yelled from the RV.
The group snapped out of it and sprinted for the vehicle.
The RV roared to life and peeled away.
A few minutes after they disappeared down the highway, the Creeper's wings twitched. It pushed itself up on shaky limbs. Its hands reached for its missing head… and found nothing.
From the stump of its neck, several wet, insect-like limbs extended, feeling the air, tasting the blood on the wind. It turned and shambled toward a tree behind the campsite.
A headless body lay there.
And a head.
…
Ten miles away, on another stretch of East 9 Highway.
Soren killed the engine and stepped out of the sports car at a crossroads.
The burned-out shell of an old church stood in front of him, the night air thick with the smell of charred meat.
"Should be around here somewhere."
The road split in two: left led into the dark woods, right stretched into empty fields.
He glanced at Alessa in the passenger seat. "Can you scout the right fork? We'll cover more ground if we split up."
Alessa shook her head. A flicker of guilt crossed her small face in the shadows. "The magnetic field here is too chaotic. I can't go far from you."
She paused. "My dark essence is anchored inside your body right now. If I pull away completely, the uncontrolled energy could drag this whole area into Silent Hill."
"If I only send out a fragment of power, it'll fade too fast."
Soren raised an eyebrow. They already had enough problems—he didn't need an accidental Otherworld outbreak on top of everything.
"Fine." He nodded, slid back behind the wheel, and fired up the engine. "We'll take the left road."
The sports car roared off into the trees.
…
"Static… This is Unit 17, just finished patrol…"
"Static… 0-3-2, we're at Opey's Diner. Want coffee?"
The police scanner crackled with broken chatter.
In a dim room, Jack Taggart sat hunched over an old radio, face carved with grief and rage. His hand gripped the handset so tight his knuckles were white.
Ever since he lost his youngest son Billy, he'd been glued to the scanner for days.
Listening. Waiting. Hoping to hear that thing again.
After a while he twisted the knob to a new frequency.
The orange light blinked.
"Static… Kevin… can anyone hear me?… attacked by a monster…"
"East 9 Highway… emergency… someone please…"
Jack sat bolt upright and snatched the mic. "226, you still there?"
After more static, a young man's voice came through, thick with tears.
"Hell yeah I'm still here! Who the fuck is this?! Help us!!"
Jack's voice stayed ice-calm. "Okay, kid. Take a breath. Tell me exactly what you just said—slow and clear."
Kevin: "We're trapped on East 9 Highway—in an RV. There's a monster! It killed Brad! We shot it down but… what if it gets back up?"
Jack: "Which part of East 9? Give me a landmark."
"Static—"
The signal cut out.
Jack's heart slammed against his ribs. "Hello?! Kid! You still there?"