Gowin's House — Night
Gowin screams. Blood rises in her throat and spills over her lips.
Moster's arm locks around her from behind, pinning her completely. His grip is iron. Absolute.
"I'm sorry, Gowin," he says. Calm. Almost gentle. "But there's nobody here to save you this time."
He draws the blade back toward her chest —
"F*ck you."
She drives her heel down onto his foot with every ounce of force she has.
Moster grunts in pain.
"You little — that won't work on me, you b*tch."
Gowin twists in his grip and sinks her teeth into his forearm.
Moster SCREAMS —
The knife drops.
She spins and drives her fist into his face before he can recover.
Moster lunges for the blade —
Her foot connects with his chin in a clean upward kick.
Moster flies backward, crashing into the wall.
He gets up. Comes at her again —
Gowin sidesteps, grabs his arm, and redirects his momentum straight toward the window.
She punches him hard across the face —
Moster vanishes.
Reappears directly in front of her. Face to face. Inches apart. The red light from behind his mask burning into her eyes.
Gowin doesn't flinch.
She drives her knee into his stomach with everything she has —
And sends him through the window.
Glass shatters. Silence.
She rushes to the window and looks down —
Empty street. No body. No trace.
Gone.
Gowin steps back from the window slowly. Her hand presses to her stomach. Her side. Her shoulder. Everything is bleeding. Everything hurts.
She slides down the wall until she's sitting on the floor and just stays there for a moment, staring at nothing.
Then she breaks.
"Why..." she chokes out, tears spilling over. "Why does this keep happening to us? Why?"
She cries alone in the dark for a long time.
Then she wipes her face. Pulls herself up. Walks to the living room, finds the first aid kit under the cabinet, and sits back down on the floor.
She treats her own wounds — hands shaking, tears still falling, hissing through her teeth at every touch.
Nobody comes.
Nobody knows.
The Next Day — The Group
"He came to my place last night," Gowin says, wincing slightly as she sits. "Stabbed me in the shoulder and my side."
"How'd you handle it?" Johnny asks.
"I threw him out the window."
Andrew stares at her.
"...Okay. You're actually built different. No cap — you're tougher than George."
"HEY—" George straightens up immediately. "What are you trying to say?!"
"He's telling the truth," Leo says flatly, not even looking up.
The group bursts out laughing — the kind of laugh that only exists because everything is terrible and you need it to survive.
"Alright," Johnny says, getting serious. "We know he operates in District 320. House number 20 specifically. That's where we go. We find him and we end it."
"I'm in," Son says without hesitation.
"Yeah," Leo says.
"Obviously," George says.
"Let's do it," Gowin says.
Son looks at Andrew.
"You with us?"
Andrew grins.
"Come on, of course. But we go in smart — no mistakes. This isn't some regular guy."
"Agreed," everyone says.
The University Bathroom — Jason
Jason has some kid backed into the corner, towering over him. He swings once. The kid stumbles. Then scrambles out the door, crying, not looking back.
Jason watches him go and laughs to himself.
"Weak. Every single one of them, weak. I'm the strongest thing walking in this place. HAHAHAHA—"
He turns toward the mirror —
The lights begin to flicker.
Then darkness. Complete and sudden. Like something swallowed the room whole.
A glow appears in the black directly in front of Jason. He spins around, heart jumping.
"What — who's there? Where am I—"
A figure steps out of the dark.
Jason's own face stares back at him.
Same jaw. Same eyes. Same everything — except the eyes are burning. Deep, violent red.
"What the f*ck—" Jason stumbles back. "Who ARE you?!"
"I am you," the other Jason says. His voice is smooth. Certain. "I am the greatest version of you. The smart one. The one who doesn't hold back. The killer that's been locked inside you your whole life."
Jason stares.
"You walk around thinking you're powerful," the other Jason continues, moving closer. "But you're not. Not yet. You hold back. You hesitate. And you let Taiga stop you — every single time — like a leash around your neck."
"I don't—"
"If you want to be the strongest thing alive," the figure says, "you tear apart every human being who stands in your way. You stop listening to Taiga. You stop holding back. And anyone who doesn't follow your orders?" He leans in close. "You destroy them. Completely."
The other Jason shifts —
And becomes Moster.
Jason SCREAMS —
Moster vanishes.
The lights snap back on.
Jason is on the floor, back against the wall, chest heaving. He looks around the empty bathroom.
A small box sits in front of him. On top — a heart.
He opens it with shaking hands.
Inside — a knife. One of the finest blades he has ever seen or held. The steel catches the light perfectly.
Jason picks it up slowly. Turns it over. Feels the weight of it.
He smiles.
Then he finds the note underneath.
District 320. House number 20. Go there. Kill everyone you hate.
Jason reads it twice.
Looks at the blade.
And laughs — low and slow and completely unhinged.
"...Alright then."
He tucks the blade away, pockets the note, and walks out whistling.
District 320 — House Number 20
The street is dead silent.
The group stands in front of a massive abandoned house at the far end of the block. Cracked walls eaten through with age. Windows dark and filmed with years of dust. A front door that looks like it hasn't opened since something terrible happened inside. The whole structure seems to lean slightly forward — like it's watching them.
"This has to be it," Johnny says quietly, eyes scanning every window. "House 20. District 320."
"It's terrifying," George says, not moving.
"Yeah," Leo agrees, also not moving.
"We don't get scared," Andrew says, stepping forward. "We said we'd tear him apart. Every single one of us said it. So we go in there and we do exactly that."
Son stares at the house for a long moment. His jaw tightens.
"My mom. My dad." He exhales slowly. "They both deserve justice. Let's move."
"Let's go," everyone says together.
They push the front door. It groans and creaks through the silence like a warning none of them asked for and all of them heard.
Inside — darkness. The smell of rust and rot and something older underneath both of those. Rats scatter along the baseboards. Cobwebs hang thick from every corner. The floorboards protest under every step.
"This place is absolutely full of rats," Gowin mutters.
"And look—" George stops, flashlight pointed at the wall. "That's a black widow. Right there. A real one — you can see the marking on the abdomen, that's genuinely a—"
"George." Leo grabs his arm and keeps walking. "Serial killer. Focus."
"I was just pointing out—"
"Not the time."
Andrew turns to the group.
"We split up. Six of us — three and three. Cover more ground."
"I'll take Johnny and Leo," Son says. "You take Gowin and George."
"Works for me. Stay sharp. Anything moves — you call out immediately."
"Same to you."
They separate into the dark.
Andrew, Gowin and George — Deeper Inside
The three of them move carefully down a long hallway, flashlight beams cutting narrow paths through the black. Every floorboard beneath them shifts and groans. Shadows pool at the edges of the light and seem to move when you're not looking directly at them.
They reach a door at the end of the hall and push it open.
They stop.
On the wall directly ahead — written in thick dark blood, in large uneven letters that run slightly downward like whoever wrote it was losing strength —
RUN BEFORE YOU SEE THE WORST THING OF YOUR LIVES.
Below it —
THREE.
A pause between each word like a countdown being stretched on purpose.
TWO.
ONE.
"What does that mean?" George whispers.
"Three... two..." Andrew and Gowin say at the same time.
"...One."
A sound from across the room. Wet. Heavy. Like something shifting under pressure.
Blood begins seeping from beneath the wardrobe door. Spreading slowly across the floor toward them.
"What is—" George stumbles backward.
The wardrobe swings open.
A body falls out. What remains of a person — organs sliding out onto the floor in a slow terrible cascade, limbs twisted at angles that make no anatomical sense, skin the color of chalk, every inch of the body soaked in blood that has long gone dark and thick.
Gowin opens her mouth to scream —
A knife tears through the air directly at her face —
Andrew's hand shoots out. He grabs Gowin by the arm and pulls her down to the floor in one clean motion. The blade punches into the wall right where her head was — buried to the handle.
Complete silence.
Gowin lies on the floor beside Andrew, both of them completely still. She slowly turns her head and looks at him.
"...You're fast," she breathes. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Andrew says, starting to rise —
"ANDREW — BEHIND YOU—"
He turns.
Moster. Standing right there. No sound. No warning.
The blade drives into Andrew's chest before he can move. Catches his arm on the pull back.
Andrew grabs Moster by the front of his outfit — and drives his fist directly into the masked face with full force.
"Take that, you bastard."
He hits him again. Harder.
Moster staggers —
And vanishes.
Andrew drops to one knee. Hand pressed flat against his chest. Breathing hard and deliberate, like someone who has spent years teaching himself to manage pain and not show it.
"You okay. You okay," he says quietly — to himself, not to either of them.
"Andrew—" Gowin drops beside him immediately, hand on his arm. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry — he came after you because of me, I should've been more aware—"
"Hey." He meets her eyes. "I'm fine. It's just a stab wound. My chest is made of steel."
Gowin stares at him for a second.
Then laughs — short and helpless and completely out of place in a blood-soaked room in an abandoned house in the middle of the night.
"Who were you talking to just now?" she asks. "'You okay, you okay' — who is that for?"
"Myself," Andrew says simply. "You tell yourself you're okay and eventually you start to feel it. Mind over matter."
George looks between the two of them.
"...That actually makes a lot of sense."
Son, Leo and Johnny — Another Part of the House
"God this place is disgusting," Johnny mutters, stepping carefully over something dark and unidentifiable on the floor. "Every single surface in here is covered in blood."
They move through a narrow corridor and find a door slightly ajar at the end. Son pushes it open and they step inside.
The door slams shut behind them.
They spin around —
Nothing. Just the door.
They turn back —
Moster stands in the center of the room.
Silent. Still. Blade raised.
Red eyes burning in the dark.