Stares surround its rotting corpse. Another unfortunate victim met with torture and death. It isn't common for people to be killed in this subway, especially an alien, but this means there isn't much time left until he evolves. His attacks are becoming more frequent and are trailing into the heart of the city where the hunters live. Just like this hunter before the walking eyes of the public. They're meant to be protecting everyone else, so how can they call themselves hunters if they're just going to die. We're all screwed.
An echo sounds from the distance, the next train is near, another audience for the decaying creature. I observe the small crowd of four still surrounding its body and not one of them has their devices to call it in. What a bunch of soulless bastards. My left hand currently in my pocket presses against the loose clicker, a short vibration emitting in response. The small piece of technology shrivels up and disappears, meaning the cleaners are on their way.
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I hastily place my midnight long-coat over its body as the train halts at this station. People begin rolling out, a jumble of footsteps pressing against the concrete floors and up the escalator towards the city above. Within minutes, figures in all white race down the moving ramp and straight to the body, one of them immediately scooping it up into their arms. My coat slides off its body hitting the dirt covered ground, resulting in another cleaner to pull a red blanket from their large pocket and over the corpse. Moments later the cleaners disappear into the city, so I naturally reach for my jacket. As I lift it, a bloody piece of folded paper remains on the floor, covered in grass and dirt. I lean down to unfold the piece of paper, revealing a message written in blood.
'hes one of us'.
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