The Blood Moon

It was the dead of night, and barely any light trickled through the windows of a modern, large office room.

What should've been a moonlit room was only near to complete darkness. The "light" was merely the remaining light; diluted to its weakest form when managing to make its way through the thick gray blanket that covers the sky.

Even then, compared to light during "day," there wasn't enough to see even the faintest silhouette amidst the darkness.

𝘗𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳-𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘗𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳-𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘗𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳-𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳.

The pitter-pattering of seemingly never ending rain tapping against the glass window and walls filled the silent office room amidst soft snores.

Outside the room, where gaping darkness hides around the corners, there were small traps here and there. These particular traps were set at various places across the entire floor the explorers were resting at, and they were mostly well hidden.

Some of these traps were innovative; from the reliable trip wires, spikes, and a variety of other seemingly uninteresting factors that make up a trap.

Each one was strategically placed at the most optimal area-areas like the entrance to the floor, the corners leading to halls or rooms, and the restroom.

The restroom in particular was unexpectedly spacious and clean, save for copious amounts of dust. In order for someone to go potty...well, looking at the other factors that make up the ruined city, the toilets in the restroom were like paradise.

Anyways, for those who placed the traps and used the restroom, they were slumbering away, getting enough rest and brainpower to use for tomorrow. Before they rested, they had all agreed to push their plan-making to the morning.

In the dark office room, they laid in several different positions at various places on the office floor with blankets over them. Everyone found spare blankets-and even pillows-in a particularly, surprisingly, warm room filled with pictures and such.

Just by looking at what makes up the room, one could tell the person who once used or owned seemingly melancholic and nostalgic.

A person who wishes for the comforts of a nice warm home.

Or it could be that it was someone who unfortunately worked overtime and had to stay overnight many a times.

One can only hope the person who must be long gone has found peace and died peacefully.

In the corner of the dark, spacious office room, a little ways away from the rest of the group lying on the carpet floor, was a hooded, masked man.

Blending with the darkness, he sat against the wall, placing an arm on his knee. With the other, he held a diary.

Funny enough, he neither opened it nor bothered to put it away. Instead, he simply held it in his hands, its leathery surface a source of comfort.

For an uncountable amount of time, he didn't move, his body never moving the slightest-no, that was an exaggeration. His fingers twitched a couple times: the left hand's fingers drumming against the diary's surface, and the right a bit below his knee. His chest slightly rose and fell, indicating a slow, steady rhythm.

In the midst of the silence, the man looked at something far past the wall he was staring at. Looking beyond it; a place where none can see and sense except he himself.

Then, after a long while, the man tucked the diary back into his cloak. As he did so, he let his chin fall onto his chest and simply closed his eyes.

For five seconds, Corvus kept his eyes closed. Just a simple five seconds. It was nothing special-just a random amount of time he counted mentally.

As five seconds passed, he felt the urge to open his eyes, and that was when Corvus felt something wash over him.

For a moment, it was as though he was walking through a swamp; knee-high mud that resisted him every time he wished to take a step forward, but instead it was his eyelids.

'The rain...' he thought. 'I can no longer hear it.'

So, as his eyes eventually opened into small slits, he found himself looking at a narrow, yet strange new world.

No, not a new world, but a seemingly alternate one where everything was colored in various hues of crimson. It was as though a pair of colored glasses was placed over his eyes, making him see things unbeknownst to him in a different perspective.

As Corvus had noticed earlier, the familiar sound of pitter-pattering had ceased, but its remains are still to be seen by droplets of water staining the walls and windows.

Looking around, he saw the room was still entirely dark and silent, save for, well, the people snoring along with rustling clothes and blankets.

Of course, it was all colored in various dark red hues.

With a silent grunt, Corvus pushed himself off the ground and got onto his feet. With another look around, he began walking towards where the red hue seemingly came from.

It was surreal, in a strange way, walking in a spacious office room that would be nearly completely dark if not for the blood red color seemingly filtering through the window shutters, creating some notion of light that multiplied the eeriness.

The "calming" silence that filled the entire room didn't help either.

With soft footsteps being muted by the carpet floor, he walked to the window. Raising his hand, Corvus was about to pull up the shutters with the string if not for a strange feeling emerging in his chest. It was an inexpressible feeling-a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time.

If he were to describe it, then...it would be standing at a metaphorical crossroad. To take the left path, or the right path.

If the left path would be returning to his normal life, ignoring this strange phenomenon and returning back to resting, then the latter path would be an entirely new event that would impact his own life.

If Corvus really did take a look outside...he 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 that something will surely change.

So many ifs, and so many questions. Although he knew something would change, if it was for better or worse...who can say?

Alas, he had been waiting for this change for a long, long time.

Without so much as a moment's hesitation, he opened the shutters, and saw a world he hadn't seen in a long while.

...

Everyday, ever since 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗮𝗹𝗹, the sky was always cloudy. No ray of sunshine managed to pierce through the thick, gray clouds, covering from one end of the sky to far beyond the horizon.

However, tonight, for the first time in a long while, the hooded beak-masked man saw the clear night sky for the first time in a long, long while.

Except, instead of the stars and white moon, he found a red eye-no, a blood moon. Alone in the night sky, it looked down on the world below, exuding a sense of eeriness and dread.

As he continued looking up at it, before the urge to reminisce and become rather nostalgic rises up, chaos suddenly stirred to life.

...

As abruptly as it came, sounds of roars, cackles, and screams echoed throughout the ruined city, almost as though they had been waiting to be unleashed for a long, long time.

As though a filter descended over the world, everything became a shade of a dark, eerie hue of red to all those who have eyes. Far down below on the ground, tens, if not hundred-no, if not thousands upon thousands of mutants roamed the streets.

Although some were the normal, "average" mutants that can easily rip apart an adult human, there were those who stood out amongst the red river-no, 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯 of monsters below. Some of these variants were shorter, while some were tall but looked like sticks. Others had longer than average arms, while others were simply flat out enormous.

A loud, ear-piercing, ringing noise buzzed in Corvus' ears, and the world seemed to angle in a position where he was leaning either left or right.

Was this what people call "vertigo?" One moment it was dark, peaceful, and somewhat silent with the calming effect of rain, and in the next there were bloodcurdling howls and screeches in an alien, blood red world.

The feeling of a strange drunkenness; a feeling of being forcibly torn adrift from reality...what an odd sensation.

However, it lasted only for a moment, as Corvus immediately stabilized his bearing.

As he observed such a strange phenomenon, he heard the rustling of fabric from behind. With a yawn, the person immediately paused midway. In Corvus' mind, he can picture a scene where the person wakes up, yawning, only to stop as he finds himself in an entirely new world.

Then, in a matter of seconds, muted, fast footsteps approaching from behind, and in addition to another few seconds, an older man stopped his side.

Together, they watched a strange, yet familiar new world with different definitions of fascination.

For Corvus, it was interesting, but for Gregor, it was morbid. After a few seconds, he stumbled backwards in vertigo.

"Wha...what the hell is this?" he whispered, quickly rubbing his eyes.

Giving a small, yet hidden glance, he saw that although the older man looked and talked with utter seriousness, there was an underlying tone of urgency.

"The blood moon," Corvus simply stated as though that clearly answered everything. A statement that meant no further questions were needed, nor was there any need to understand it deeply.

"The blood moon?" the older man muttered in a manner that can define what "befuddled" means. "The blood moon? A 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯 made these mutants act up? What kind of bullsh-"

"Look up at the night sky, and see it for what it is," Corvus abruptly cut in. "Take in a deep breath, and feel it for what it is. Have you ever seen the sky being so clear? Have you ever seen the moon, so bright and clear? Think, Gregor. Think."

Gregor blinked a couple times, staring at him in clear bewilderment. After a while, his eyes turned to look up at where the eternal gray blanket should've been. It was then his distorted expression changed.

"Huh?" he breathed out with widened eyes glued to the open sky above. "Huh? It's...it's..."

"It's what, Gregor?" Corvus asked curiously. Even as he asked, the older man couldn't pull his eyes away from the moon above.

"It's...it's..."

The expression on the older man's face changed like a book's pages being flipped through so fast, one cannot read a single word. His mouth opened and closed, speaking similar to that of a broken radio.

Even as Gregor's thoughts tried to gather together, only to fall apart quickly, the hooded, masked man beside him waited.

For many minutes, the two stood by each other in silence. A different silence from earlier. Not a silence filled with tension and fear, but one of new life.

It was ironic, considering what was happening outside the building they were all staying in.

It was then, after some time had passed, did the older man shakily smile.

"It's...weird as hell is what it is."

Silence fell between them once again as Gregor's eyes continued darting back and forth. He looked up at the moon with new clarity. He looked at the ground below with a frightening feeling. He looked at the world around him with an astonishing gaze as though he was wearing a pair of glasses that showed him a different, newfound perspective.

After a strangely, somewhat comfortably long pause, Gregor let out a long breath and mustered up a smirk.

"Heh, well I'll be damned," he said with some mirth. "In all my years, I've never seen such a sight. This would've been a good story with the folks back at the inn...and I mean a fake story, because who the hell would believe this if they didn't see it for themselves?"

The older man then took a long, deep breath-an action to build up confidence, or to stave away fear and anxiety.

Corvus thought it to be both.

"Well," Gregor finally said with hands on his hips as he took another look around. "I would've continued admiring it for a long while if it wasn't for the situation we're in."

"There's no real need to think deeply about it," Corvus abruptly said. Seeing a raised eyebrow aimed at himself, he felt himself obligated to give a response. "Perhaps it's simply a natural phenomenon that makes mutants more bloodthirsty and restless?"

Gregor only hummed, eyeing the river of blood-red humanoid creatures far below them.

"You really think that theory has merit? At this point, why not say it was magic?"

Corvus hummed at that.

"I would suggest it would be the former," he said. "If I were a scientist, that is."

The older man eyed him with a discerning look.

"Then...you think-"

"What I'm more inclined to side with is simply the idea that "certain conditions" have been met simultaneously," Corvus interrupted. "Whether it be by accident or on purpose is what I'm really interested in."

"Conditions?" Gregor asked, confusion blatantly shown on the older man's face, apparent to all who had heard him. "What conditions? No wait, what do you mean 'on purpose?' Who would do such a thing? A demon? A devil? A witch? Or maybe, just maybe...some god just wants to torture us? Perhaps right now, they're laughing at our despair, taking joy from our agony?"

Corvus simply shrugged, making the older man give him the side eye.

"Who can say? Perhaps it really is a witch who can use black magic. Or maybe, just maybe...it could be a most holy, higher being, far above the likes of both you and I. A being we cannot hope to comprehend nor understand."

Gregor couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief.

Then, he suddenly blinked at a sudden thought that appeared in his mind.

The air around them, once fraught with thick tension, like a transparent, yet untouchable wall, had long since disappeared.

The older man looked at the man beside him curiously before shaking his head.

It really felt like a different world, seeing the serene silence they have up here in comparison to the crowd of mad, blood red monsters below screaming for blood below.

After that, the two fell into silence, pondering their own thoughts and theories.

Corvus had become still for a long, long time. His chest rested on his chest, seemingly in deep contemplation. If not for the smallest movement being his chest rising and falling, some would say he would be a very well-made statue.

After a couple minutes had passed, with a very long and heavy sigh, Gregor reached for his pocket. After patting around for a few seconds, he frowned and sighed once again.

"This would've been a good time for a smoke," he murmured. "What a pity..."

As though responding to his words, the muted roars suddenly increased in intensity and strength, causing the windows of the buildings around them to quake and tremble, like a prelude to an inevitable tragedy-a confrontation that will cease when all life has ended.

Along with the windows shaking, so too did the building. Perhaps due to a century without human aid, many of the building's foundations were crumbling, eroding from the eternal phenomenon that is known as time.

And so, as the building trembled, so too did Gregor, who had stumbled backwards. After gaining a foothold firmly on the carpet floor did he begin to laugh nervously.

"Ah...now I'm really regretting not bringing a cig."

Corvus looked at his hands. Covered in black, leather gloves that were fitted with secret compartments were his "secret" weapon.

Even with it, even then-

'If it's like this, then I can't guarantee their safety-'

"W-what in the devil's name is this?" a voice, filled with morbid fascination, intruded into the silence.

At the same time, Corvus and Gregor both reacted. As they turned their bodies and heads around, they saw a young man beginning to stand on his feet.

As though shaking off the "sleepiness" in his legs, his legs wobbled and trembled the first few steps before consistently making his way to them.

Corvus watched as the young man walked closer to them, the "light" from the window slowly washed over the young man from head to toe. With the lens that people see through called eyes, it colored him in various shades of crimson red.

Still, it could not hide the paleness that covered his face despite the red filter.

"This...this is hell on earth," Judas whispered as he halted at their side. Looking through the glass window, his eyes widened upon looking down at the red sea of growling mutants below. "Is this a nightmare?"

"No, this isn't a nightmare, Judas."

Saying that, Gregor gestured with a hand towards the party below.

"Take in the sight well, because you're gonna go through much more than this. Much, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 more."

The young can only lick his dry lips and swallow down his fear mixed with saliva.

"Wha-what do you mean?" he croaked.

"That we may have to fight in a few minutes? Well, that too, but still this is nothing compared to what we've seen," Gregor abruptly said. Seeing Judas looking at him with an astonished gaze, he coughed once in his hand before he stood up taller with his chin slightly raised. "Isn't that right, Mr. Corvus? These are small-no, 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 numbers compared to the time when we went to war with the scavengers. Ah, right, you were probably not born before then, but..."

He trailed off and coughed into his hand once again.

"𝘈𝘩𝘦𝘮, sorry, this is no time for stories. Lately, it seems as though I keep going on these tangents. Hm, is it a side effect of being old...?"

"So you do admit to being old."

The certain person who said that wilted before a deadpanned look that promised countless atrocities to be forced upon him.

"Looks like you're not as scared as I thought you would be if you would make such a tasteless, bland joke," Gregor said dryly. "I'm still young and spry, after all."

"Uh..."

"𝘒𝘶𝘩𝘶𝘮, well anyways, it would be more hell-like if there were flames burning on everything and everywhere."

Saying that, the older man wore an expression full of nostalgia. He looked not at the horrifying amount of monsters a couple floors beneath them, nor at the ominous shining red moon that spoke of hidden horrors.

Silence once again fell across the group. After a few moments of hesitation, the young man spoke up with obvious conflicting feelings.

"So...do we just wait it out?"

"We-"

"No!"

The three turned their heads.

On the wall, the wounded man tried to push himself up to a sitting position. Besides him whilst kneeling, Lez assisted him in sitting in a more upwards position.

Although being awake for an uncertain amount of time, the uncharacteristic enthusiasm Flan was oozing out was clearly noticeable.

"This is our chance, don't you see?" lran spoke with the utmost urgency, spittle flying from his mouth while waving and gesturing with his arms. Well, moving about as much a wounded man can, as he winced and flinched every tiny movement he made.

Still, with the frenzy look in his eyes, such pain seemed nonexistent.

"Think about it! With all these mutants here, maybe we'll find that 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 variant mutant we've been trying to find! Maybe, just maybe, we can-!"

"Flan, calm down," Gregor said sternly. "I don't know what's suddenly gotten over you, but we need to be cautious. Have you looked out the window-oh right, sorry. Still, these are mutants! Just a group of five can give us painful deaths! If we make even the slightest mistake..."

The older man smiled grimly, and Flan's eyes moved away.

"...we'll be all killed, and not in a peaceful, painless way. Also, did you even take a good look at yourself? You think you're in a condition to take risks?"

The excitement disappeared, like cold water splashing onto the hot-blooded flames of excitement, dousing it with the freezing coldness of reality.

Alas, even then, embers remained of the hot-blooded flames.

"I'll be fine if you all left me," Flan began saying. He tried to push himself up to a seating position, but Lez held him down. "So, so-!"

"No," Gregor said softly. It was just a simple word; a simple, single statement. There were no real inflections in his tone, nor was there any other meaning besides what "no" means. However, the voice brought shivers down the spines of those who listened.

Except for a few.

"But-"

"No," he repeated.

And that was that.

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the group. Before anyone could do anything, the older man looked towards the most naive of them all.

"Judas."

The younger man nearly jolted into the air.

"Ye-yes sir?" he squeaked with a high-pitched voice.

"There's another unsaid rule amongst us explorers..."

With a slow sigh, Gregor looked around at everyone, looking each one of them in the eye.

"Never, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, leave a man behind. Remember and engrave this into your heart and soul."

He looked each one of them in the eye. After getting the reaction he wanted, he nodded. Before he could say anything else, a voice suddenly spoke up.

"You're right to say that, Mr. Gregor. Indeed we shouldn't leave a man behind, even as a sacrifice for the greater good. So instead, what about two?"

Gregor's eyes shot open as everyone quickly turned to the speaker.

"Lez-?"

"I'll take care of Flan here," the sharp-looking man said seriously. "You all try to find the target...at least within the scope of utmost caution."

The older man looked as though he would bite back with a quick remark, but a person suddenly stepped up.

"I agree with him, Mr. Gregor."

Gregor whirled back to the younger man.

"Judas, you to-?"

He abruptly stopped as he saw the look in his eyes. Eyes that spoke of utter seriousness; eyes that spoke of utter conviction.

"Please, Mr. Gregor," the younger man said firmly.

Corvus looked at Judas with the corner of his eyes-as well as he could with a mask-before looking back out the window.

"If we wait and go back afterwards, we won't have a chance to ever find that special variant," Judas said with utter seriousness. Then, suddenly, he looked at one of the three in the background. "Right, Mr. Corvus?"

The hooded masked man nodded just as Gregor wheel around towards him.

"This indeed may be the opportunity we needed."

The older man stared at him, only sputtering cut-off words and random letters of the alphabet.

"See?" Judas, bolstered with more support, became even more determined as the tone in his voice grew slightly more confident. "Even then, even if we wait for Mr. Flan to heal, who's to say we can find such an elusive creature after such a strange phenomenon?"

Gregor eyed the younger man. Unlike the young, naive person he knew who shifted back and forth on his legs, saying, it was like looking at an entirely different person.

"You're weirdly more convinced than I thought. Despite what you say, even if it may be true, are you ignoring the fact that it could be the opposite? Who's to say we can find 𝘪𝘵?"

"Who's to say that we won't-?"

The two went back and forth, their hands and arms gesturing wildly. A truly spirited argument, as agreed upon by the audience who watched the two.

As one of the three audience members in the background, Corvus quietly sat on a chair, rested his back onto the backrest of said chair, and crossed his hands together neatly.

This would take quite a while

...

...

...

It turns out it wasn't that long.

Seconds become minutes, and minutes become...more minutes. For five entire minutes, the two talked back and forth, providing decent points and rebuttals.

It was expected of an older man, who has an occupation where many died young, to have boundless knowledge and wisdom, but what was surprising was the young man who can contend with such a person.

As the argument continued, a calm voice intervened.

"If we must return to the Bunkers, then wouldn't Flan's plight be in vain?"

Gregor rubbed his temples and groaned.

"Lez..."

"Please think about it, Mr. Gregor," Lez asked seriously. As he said so, he propped up the wounded man, who looked at him in a pleading manner.

"You guys..."

The older man could only grimace as he looked each one of them dead in the eyes. Every time he did so, each one of them didn't waver. Especially Judas, who he stared at the last and the longest.

Seconds ticked by, and they looked each other in the eyes. One, who tried to discern what was happening, and the other who looked dead serious.

...

In the dark office room colored with different shades of red, a man paced back and forth under the watchful gazes of his fellow explorers.

It really didn't take long for something to change, as Gregor began walking around the room in a circle.

Actually, it was more accurate to say he was walking rectangular, for that's how the entire office is shaped including the stalls, desks, and chairs. During the many cycles he walked, a hand kept rubbing his chin while muttering and mumbling this and that.

Although what the older man was talking about, which no one can truly hear clearly due to the "activity" outside, they can still discern what he was talking about.

The pros, the cons, themental estimation of whether or not they can "make it," and among other things whether or not it's truly fine to leave someone behind with another person even with both their acceptance and permission.

While he did so, everyone kept their eyes on him, including the wounded and bandaged Flan, who looked to be sleepy. His eyes sometimes slowly begin to close, and then within the next moment he jolted wide awake. This would repeat several times as he looked to be incredibly stubborn to see Gregor be convinced, seeing as he continued denying rest even with persuading words from Judas and Lez.

Just like always, Corvus watched from the background, curious about the choice the wise, experienced older man would make.

Then, eventually, the pacing began to slow down. As they all watched, Gregor's legs slowed to a halt.

His back was turned towards the window, making his face shadowed so that none could make out what visible expression was on his face.

There, the older man remained still, his barely noticeable hands due to the darkness clenching and unclenching.

As still as a statue, he stood there amidst the passage of time. Like a tall tree, he stood there, rooted into the ground despite what existed around him. The leaves that adorned the many branches fall from the harsh winds that desire to erode him-to make him fall apart.

Still, there he stood tall amidst it all.

Suddenly, it felt as though time had slowed to a crawl. Was it seconds? Minutes? Maybe an hour? The sounds of soft breathing from the explorers and the mutants' roaring and screaming outside faded in the background; something that was fearsome became obsolete in terms of importance, at the very least for the moment.

Then, after a very, very long pause, a single word was softly spoken in the dark, shadowy office room.

"Alright."