Somewhere in the night, far from the bunker, far from the battles, far from anything resembling civilization, a woman fed.
The ruins of what had once been a small town stretched around her, skeletal buildings reaching toward a moonless sky. Fires burned in scattered barrels, casting long shadows that danced like dying things. The people who lived here—a small community of survivors who had thought themselves hidden, thought themselves safe—were now scattered across the ground in pieces.
Superior 8 stood at the edge of the light, motionless, watching. His grey mask reflected the flames, giving him the appearance of something carved from shadow and fire. He had been tracking this woman for three days. Three days of following a trail of bodies that grew colder and fresher in equal measure, a paradox of violence that could only mean one thing.
She was close now.
The woman knelt in the center of the carnage, her back to him, her shoulders moving with the rhythm of feeding. She wore simple clothes—dark pants, a torn shirt, nothing that marked her as anything special. Her hair was dark, tangled, falling across her face as she bent to her meal.
One of the survivors—a man, still alive, his legs broken, his eyes wide with the particular terror of someone watching their death approach—tried to crawl away. His hands scrabbled at the dirt, leaving furrows, leaving hope.
The woman looked up.
Her face was... ordinary. Pretty, even, in a sharp-boned way. Brown eyes that caught the firelight and held it. Lips that curved into a smile as she saw him moving.
She stood. Wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Walked toward him with the unhurried grace of a predator who knew its prey couldn't escape.
"Where do you think you're going?" Her voice was light, almost playful. The voice of someone sharing a joke with an old friend.
The man sobbed. Begged. Offered anything, everything.
She knelt beside him, tsking softly. "Oh, honey. You don't have anything I want." She tilted her head, considering. "Well. Almost anything."
Her hand moved. Fast. Too fast for him to react.
When she stood again, she was holding something. She brought it to her mouth.
Superior 8 stepped forward, letting his boots scrape against the rubble. Making himself known.
The woman froze. Her head turned slowly, her eyes finding him in the darkness. Her mouth was full—full of what, he could see clearly—and she was smiling.
She chewed. Swallowed. The smile widened.
"Well, well, well," she said, her voice carrying easily across the space between them. "Grey mask. You're a long way from home."
Superior 8 didn't move. "Jenny Damber."
Her eyes lit up—literally lit up, a flicker of something feral in their depths. "You know my name. I'm flattered."
"We've been looking for you."
"I've been hiding." She laughed, a bright, careless sound that was somehow worse than any scream. "Well. Not hiding, exactly. Just... traveling. Seeing the sights. Meeting new people." She gestured at the bodies around her. "You know how it is."
Superior 8 stepped closer. The firelight caught his mask, his armor, the weapons at his belt. "The anomaly. Wolfen Welfric. You know him."
Jenny's smile didn't waver, but something in her eyes shifted. Sharpened. "Wolfen. Now there's a name I haven't heard in..." She counted on her fingers, humming. "God, decades? Since the beginning, really. When everything went to hell and we were all just trying to survive."
"You were his friend."
"Friend." She tasted the word, rolled it around. "Is that what we were? I don't know. I taught him things. How to survive. How to fight. How to spot the difference between a person and..." She looked down at the body beside her. "...dinner."
Superior 8's voice remained flat, emotionless. "And then he tried to kill you."
Jenny's smile became something else. Something older. Something that remembered.
"He found the children," she said softly. "The ones I was saving for later. He didn't like that. Got all... righteous about it. Tried to stop me." She touched her side, a unconscious gesture. "He got close. Closer than anyone ever has. Left me with scars I still feel when it rains."
She looked up at Superior 8, and her eyes were hungry now—not for flesh, but for something else.
"Is he close? Is that why you're here? To tell me my old friend is nearby?"
Superior 8 nodded once. "He's been located. He's become... a problem."
Jenny laughed again, that bright, horrible sound. "Wolfen? A problem? He was always a problem. Just not the kind anyone could solve." She stepped over the bodies, walking toward him, her bare feet leaving prints in the blood. "But I've had decades to think about our last conversation. Decades to plan what I'd say. What I'd do."
She stopped before him, close enough to touch. Her face was beautiful, open, utterly terrifying.
"Take me to him," she said. "I want to see my friend again."
Superior 8 looked down at her. At the blood on her chin. At the smile that never wavered. At the eyes that held nothing but hunger and anticipation.
"The Architects will want to study you first. Assess your capabilities."
Jenny shrugged. "Fine. Whatever. Just make sure I get my chance." She turned, looking back at the carnage she'd created. "I owe him. For the scars. For the lesson." She smiled again, wider this time. "I want to show him what I've learned."
Superior 8 gestured toward the darkness. "This way."
Jenny followed, leaving the bodies behind, leaving the fire, leaving the night. Her footsteps were light, almost dancing.
"I'm coming, Wolfen," she whispered to herself. "Your Jenny's coming home."
The darkness swallowed them both.