The Other Side

Chapter 2: Encounter

The air within the city was clean and refreshing, with only a faint tinge of smoke drifting in from the industrial complex packed with churning factories.

The chaos and foul stench of the Pit had been replaced by the bustling yet oddly orderly atmosphere of Clearwater—where the mere presence of resources seemed enough to summon basic decency from the depths of human nature.

Rows of houses stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their dull gray brick facades stark against the gold-and-black canvas of a setting sun.

Large bay windows, edged in dull gray, jutted outward like puffed chests—Clearwater itself seeming to inhale, watching silently as the street stirred beneath it.

A familiar gentleman in a sharp gray suit walked the pale yellow sidewalk beside a tall, burly woman, the pair moving deeper into the city’s civilized embrace.

“As eerily posh as always,” Raphael muttered, suppressing the shiver that danced up his spine.

Donna rolled her eyes. “Prissy, is what it is.”

They walked with the effortless confidence of old money—like nobles returning from slumming it in the Pit. This wasn’t their first time in Clearwater, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Normally, they’d arrive with a briefcase full of false cures and glittering tonics, ready to sell snake oil to desperate fools.

This time, however, was different.

This time, they were here to clean up a mess.

“And you're sure you only sold him the cow piss and nothing else?” Raphael asked, a skeptical brow raised.

“Yup,” Donna replied. “Not a single other one.”

Their footsteps slowed as they reached the house—

[Number 10, Bruxon Road]

The sign clattered on rusted hinges as they passed what might’ve once been a garden. 

Now it was just brittle dirt, scattered with disturbingly large paw prints.

A lone refuse bin waited by the steps, the white paint of the front door peeling like sunburnt skin, revealing the weary and slightly swelling wood beneath.

They climbed up the stairs as Raphael reached out and knocked with the brass door knocker.

His mind flickered with unease.

'A government scientist living way out here? And those pawprints—too large. No other claw marks on the door, no tufts of fur like a regular dog. Just silence.'

The door creaked open of it's own volition.

Then came the stench.

Putrid. Rotten. Flesh long past saving.

They stepped inside.

Or rather—they didn’t need to step far.

They found their doctor pretty quickly.

All fifty odd pieces of him scattered across the living room.

At the centre of it all stood the monster.

Huge. Hulking. Its bloodied jaws stretched wide, the doctor's severed head halfway down its throat. It swallowed in one audible gulp.

Then it turned.

Scarlet eyes locked on them—burning, furious, unnatural.

'What the actual fu—'

It roared—then launched forward.

Raphael slammed the door shut with a crash, bolting before his mind had finished processing the horror. Donna followed instantly.

The door exploded behind them.

The thing—now clearly an upright, black-furred abomination— burst into the street, claws carving grooves into the pavement.

Raphael’s thoughts raced.

'That’s no wolf. Wolves don’t stand on their hind legs. Wolves don’t glitch the world when they scream. They don't even scream like that.'

'Like a tortured bastard.'

'It’s fast. Too fast. We need to slow it down.'

He signalled for Donna to take a side alley, splitting paths.

'Of course it follows me,' he thought bitterly as he darted into Clearwater’s maze-like back alleys.

He rounded another corner—and then the plan came into being.

Over a hundred kilos of pure muscle dropped from a rooftop directly onto the beast’s skull with a double fisted hammer strike. 

It yelped—staggering as Donna crashed into it with the full weight of a human freight train.

In a show of instinct, its arm lashed out wildly, swatting her across the alley and into a wall. She hit hard, gasping.

'Damn. Cracked ribs,' she thought to herself.

The creature turned to her—and howled.

Only… no sound came out.

The world shimmered. Flickered. The alley bent, colours draining to grayscale for a split second before snapping back.

The glitch stopped when the beast stopped howling.

Then, it started walking toward her.

Donna bit down on the pain and forced herself to move—each breath a blade digging into her side, each step a jolt—but she ran.

Ahead, she spotted Raphael waving her onward. He took the lead, pointing her down toward the eastern side of the city.

'The docks? Of course. That way’s open water.'

She didn’t question it. She led the beast through the labyrinth, forcing it to rely on raw speed while she relied on her prior knowledge of the city.

Meanwhile…

The docks sat quiet under the night sky, the sea lapping gently against steel.

A cargo ship sat ready to depart, its captain yawning as he went through the motions of a sudden early departure.

He spotted the go-ahead flag at the pier and gave the signal to drift forward into the current.

Nothing went awry at first.

Then—a jolt.

The metallic anchor chain snapped taut. The whole ship groaned in protest.

“What sort of good-for-nothing, dimwit, half-brained—”

The captain stormed toward the stern, cursing every soul on night duty. He ordered the ship to slow, trying to reduce tension on the line, but it was too late.

The anchor snapped back again, slaming into the ship itself. Another jolt. Metal groaned as the hull was scraped.

“Just wait till I get my hands on you rascals!”

He went on with the routine, grumbling all the way—completely unaware of the quiet scene unfolding behind him.

(A few minutes earlier)

Raphael let the dockworker with the flags slump to the ground like a marionette with cut strings. Unconscious, his job complete.

He sprinted toward the edge of the pier, the beast’s bone-scraping screech echoing off concrete and steel.

Donna darted into the cargo hold, just as planned.

They switched places as Donna ran inside the harbour directly.

Now Raphael took the positon of bait as he led it to a side entrance.

The creature burst out from the narrow alleys. Its roar warped the air. Colours dulled. Buildings flickered around it like frames missing from a film reel.

Raphael vaulted a crate, toppling a barrel behind him.

The creature smashed through it—salt spilling everywhere. The sight of the expensive powder being wasted made his heart clench harder than fear.

He led it deeper into the harbour, toward the edge of the pier—toward the only path still tied down by an anchor chain.

Unaware, the beast barreled after him.

Raphael slid under the massive iron chain stretched across the pier. His suit was dirtied and torn, but he didn’t care. Not now.

The chain was thick, industrial, the kind used to moor ships weighing thousands of tons. 

It was secured to the pier by a long, deeply driven bolt—held in place with a heavy iron pin.

Dislodging it would normally take a crew of workers. A hammer. Teamwork.

None of them were here tonight, and nor were they meant to be officially.

Just how no ship was to depart in the wee hours of the night.

Raphael took a breath and surveyed his surroundings.

'Ocean to the back and left. Chain in front. Beast closing fast. Right’s a dead end.'

He stood in a perfect trap.

Boxed in.

Nowhere left to run.

.

.

.

.

.

'Perfect,' he thought to himself, eyes narrowing.

'Just as planned.'