Origins of Blood (RE)

Cham’s still running, revolver tight in his hands. Gene grips his too. But Cham can’t fight. He’s too weak. Gene’s stronger—he can harden the blood in his body, shield his vitals—but he’s no match for this thing.

None of us are.

The green could rip us apart with one swing.

And still, they run beside me. For me.

They believe.

The rest are gone.

The green took them. A monster like the ones that took Ren. My boots are soaked through. My toes curl, wet and cold, pressing against the walls of the leather. I glance back.

Darkness.

Movement.

The crackling sound of its limbs echoes against the sewer walls, sharp and rhythmic—like bones clicking together. Faster. Closer.

Then—