Then came the screams. They echoed from inside the building, but no one was there to hear them—no one except Alan. He stood outside, listening, watching every brutal move of his undead Four Arms.
It didn't take long. After the last thug was gone, Four Arms stepped out of the building. His heavy footsteps shook the ground, but his face showed nothing. He moved as if nothing had happened inside, as if those screams weren't his doing at all.
For a moment, someone might have believed that story. That maybe this giant had only been standing guard, that he had done nothing.
But the truth was written all over him. The holes in his clothes from gunfire. The blood dripping from his hands. The red stains splattered across his chest.
Four Arms stood tall beside Alan, silent, waiting for his next order.
The two figures then walked side by side through the dark alleys.
A few minutes later, a police vehicle pulled up to the area. Two officers stepped out, reporting to control that they had arrived at the location.
Both of them already had their guns drawn. The call had been clear—there was heavy gunfire in this area. And this neighborhood was known to be crawling with criminals.
"Looks like some gangs are trying to expand out here after not being able to compete with Kingpin," Officer A muttered as they moved toward the abandoned building.
Officer B shook his head, keeping his eyes on the entrance. "I don't think they'd make this much noise just to push in. Could be those street heroes again, fighting with the gangs."
"Nah," Officer A replied. "If it were a hero, those thugs would be tied up and waiting outside by now."
They both edged closer to the building. That's when the smell hit them—thick, metallic, unmistakable. Blood.
The officers froze, glancing at each other, then quickly reached for their radios. One of them pressed down on the intercom."Control, we've got a situation. Smell of blood inside the building. Requesting immediate backup."
After a while, a batch of police cars arrived at the scene. Within minutes, the whole place was sealed off, and the bodies of the thugs were found. Most of them were already wanted by the police.
While all this was happening, Alan and Four Arms had already returned to his apartment. Alan sat on the sofa, flipping through news channels to check the latest reports about the murders in the abandoned factory.
In the corner, Four Arms sat quietly, now dressed in clean clothes, with no trace of blood left on him.
Alan was still switching channels when the doorbell suddenly rang. His heart skipped a beat. Without wasting time, he gave a mental command.Hide in the bathroom.
The undead obeyed instantly, moving without a sound. Alan muted the TV, stood up, and went to the door.
When he opened it, Gwen Stacy was standing there, holding a lunch box. Without waiting for him to invite her in, she stepped inside.
"Where were you?" Gwen asked with a slightly annoyed tone. "I came fifteen minutes ago to give this to you, and you weren't here."
Alan closed the door behind her and forced a calm smile. "Nothing. I just went for a walk."
He glanced at her hands and raised a brow. "Why are you carrying two lunch boxes?"
Gwen quickly looked away, trying to change the subject. "Forget that. Look at your kitchen—it's a mess. That's why Mom tells me to bring you food."
Alan chuckled softly instead of answering. "Come on, Gwen. What happened this time? Did you fight with Uncle George again?"