Chapter 26: Dark Rose and the Detective

I dodged the wild swing of his knife, the blade whistling past my ear. He was fast for his size, a force of nature unleashed. But he brought a knife to a gunfight. That will be his undoing. I can't dare miss, though. I fired the shot echoing through the stone sanctuary, a testament to a forgotten faith and a brutal present. The Mongol roared, stumbling back, the bullet having found its mark, but his knife still arced towards me.

"A tough one, eh? All monsters bleed just as all monsters die," I replied as I looked for a killshot. I peppered off a shot to slow it down. The beast roared again, a sound of pure, unadulterated pain, and staggered back, clutching his side, his massive frame swaying precariously.

I spat, backing away. "What in God's name are you?"

He merely snarled, a broken, animalistic sound, and lunged again, the knife a blur of moonlight. I needed to shoot it right between the eyes while avoiding getting flayed like today's fresh catch. I took my shot. The monster's head snapped back, his eyes rolling back into his skull as the shot found its mark. His massive frame crumpled, the knife clattering uselessly from his hand.

I stood over the fallen beast, the silence of the church deafening after the chaos. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the acrid smell of gunpowder, a grim testament to the violence that had desecrated this holy place. My own breath came in ragged gasps, my body trembling with the adrenaline that was finally beginning to recede. The dead man on the frame stared with vacant eyes, a silent testament to the horrors that unfolded here, a chilling reminder of the depths of human depravity and the twisted experiments of men like Finch.

"What the hell was that?" I muttered, the words barely a whisper. I knew the answer, of course. It was a Mongol, and he had been enhanced, augmented, turned into something far more dangerous than any man should be. The implications of this—the lengths to which these organizations would go—sent a fresh wave of ice through my veins. This was no longer just a turf war. This was a war against something that defied the natural order, a war that demanded a new kind of fight. My fight.

I sank to my knees, the weight of the discovery pressing down on me. Finch wasn't just a doctor; he was a monster creator. Some fucking Isle of Doctor Monroe shit. He was turning men into beasts for the Mongols. Brody was complicit, protecting this horror. But why? Is he trying to create supersoldiers, and these are the pathetic rejects? I needed Maddie. I needed her network, her knowledge. If we were to survive this, we had to work together, Dark Rose and the detective, a dangerous alliance forged in the crucible of Calico's darkness.

Once I regained my composure, I dragged the body into the woods. I cleaned off the knife and added it to my collection. Now, I needed to sit and think. The desert was my enemy and my ally, providing shadows and silence for my next move.