There was, a voice.
Skittering. Eight limbs worked in unison. One after the other after the other after the other after, after, after the other—,
"Hhhhhhhhh…"
An extended breath lasting, the eight limbs crawled along the road. A bug, he was like a bug. Slobbering, a leaked trail of drool and saliva coated and gave credence to his existence in the frosty air, quickly turning to ice. Four arms, they pushed. Four legs, they pushed.
Centipede, he was a human centipede. Not, human.
Crawling, it made its way inside of a human being's house. Opening the front door, it tried and failed. Raising two arms on its right side, the centipede burst open the front door, crawling inside.
There was, a strange light. Buzzing, the sounds of a television. Skittering and crawling, the buzzing was drowned by screams, yells and panicked breaths.
Knife in hand.
Peering, the creature stood on two of its legs. Towering over the human beings, its torso elongated to allow for the doubling of limbs, the human centipede grinned as it looked down.
Unable to even let out a peep, the human beings had been split open. Split open, then drop. Their blood sprayed the walls, painting their house with a grim decoration. The white walls, they'd been turned to red.
An incision was made. Along the wrist, the knife had carved a letter.
R
"R," familiar. The creature, its complexion like that of a cockroach, reached out its long arm. The thin, boney hands of the creature traced its sharp, karambit-like claws into the wooden flooring. A line was drawn. A circle. A line.
"U-ugh, hhhgg, gg, hhhhhhhhhhhh....."
What was it? R, what did it mean? What did R mean? What was the purpose, why was it inside, why was that singular letter what it could think? What was it, it didn't make sense, what was it supposed to represent what did it mean what was it for why was it appearing why was it tormenting him to hurt him to subjugate—,
"̴̡̦̒ͬ̕͘͟R̺̯ͥͥ̇ͣȲ̶̤̱̤̇_̨̛̒̾̽̍͞E̘̗ͯ͂A͉͔͓̳̭̅͗̐̉̆͘͢E̢ͨ͐͛͑͠Ȩ̮̟̍͋E̡̤͗̑̾́̃ͯE_̧͉̰̀ͦ͐
An inhuman shriek which exerted enough strength to shatter the nearby glass, the creature squirmed and rolled and flailed. Carving, dragging its claws into its own arms and body, the four arms worked in unison, slashing chunk out of chunk out of chunk from its torso and gaunt ribcage, continuing to shriek.
Clawing, aiming to rip apart its flesh, trying to obtain that sacred, impossible memory.
what. was. the. meaning
"——You sure know how to make a ruckus, don't you?"
That voice ascended, even as the liquids dripped from its body. Looking down, drawing its attention to, the creature found a human. Gruff and muscular, a graying beard and a determined expression.
"Hhhhhhhhh…"
"...So that face really is yours. I was curious about where you went, Riley. That is, if you even remember that name."
R, that was, that was it.
i-l-e-y. Riley, that was the missing piece. Then, just what was a Riley—
Pain. Hot pain was impaled through it, a semi-auto shotgun delivering its roar again and again, forcing the inhuman to scurry away.
Crawling out through the back window, it slithered and fit through, giving the replica of a bug as it forced its nine-feet, unnaturally thin body through.
Giving chase, Frank left through the screen door, automatically swapping into a sniper rifle. Aiming it at the fleeing creature, which leapt over a fence and crawled away, the hunter clicked his tongue, summoning a knife and darting in pursuit.
"Wait, just a second."
The voice of the Forgotten King entering his mind, Frank stopped moving, looking around.
"Hm? What is it?"
As any good servant of Ghira should, he obeyed and asked for clarification as to his reasoning.
"Todd's ability… it's acting strangely, when connected to Riley."
"Todd…"
Repeating that name, Frank's mind remembered it. In truth, the monster within the forest had been around for centuries, just as Ghira had.
Behind the monster, that which could not be considered human, there was once a man. Born as a slave in the 19th century, he suffered alongside many. Harboring a deep envy and an unbearable sense of alienation at being treated as that which is not human, Todd was taken advantage of by the Forgotten King who acted on his true nature—that of a predator.
Taking him in, turning him into a monster and reinforcing his envy, Todd was given the ability to absorb "human beings" into himself, aiming to become like them. Even if the countless "meals" eroded his sense of self, turning him into a monster which befit his appearance.
This was unmistakably the ability which Ghira himself had gifted Todd.
And yet,
"For some reason, Riley's not dead. In fact, he appears to be dreaming. Or, at the very least, his consciousness is acting strangely."
"...What do you mean, 'for some reason?' Don't you know what's going on?"
"Perhaps I should. However, even I am not omnipotent. I can define rules and laws in reality, but it does take effort to overwrite that which has already been defined. Even if it's my own work."
Whether it was because Riley was a fellow servant, which prevented him from instantly being killed, or whether it was something else entirely, Ghira did not care much.
"Carry on. You are permitted to continue with your hunt; I don't particularly care for Todd anymore. He's no longer amusing as a relic."
Nodding his head, Frank followed the creature. Eventually, he found an amusement park. With bright orange, black, green and white lighting spread all across his vision, Frank found that the monster had fled to an amusement park open for a special Halloween Event.
"Alright then."
Summoning a Five seveN, Frank marched inside, only to be stopped, as he needed to pay to enter.
Well, it's my last hunt. No family to leave the money to, either.
He paid and quickly hurried inside, only to find a tall, centipede-like, human-like monster, surrounded by children dressed in Halloween costumes.
"H-hhhhh… hhhalloween!!"
The kids giggled, touching his human limbs, surprised at how well-made his "costume" was.
In response to the children's giggles, the monster, bearing the epitaph of Riley Woods, laughed alongside them, enjoying the fact that he made their days even a slight bit better.
"..."
Yet, Frank Russo would not give up his hunt.