Mortuus looked at the picture of the smoldering house. The Crater Hollow Journalist had unknowingly just given Mortuus precisely what he wanted. Jason Andrews, the man stated as dead in the newspaper, was Subject B-9, meaning that this was most definitely the man.
Death rose from the floor in a dark mist, "Now, why do you believe this Shadow Man is Jason Andrews?" Death questioned. Mortuus was very quick to respond this time, "Jason has a motive. He died saving his daughter... It only makes sense for him to try preventing this exact thing from happening ever again."
Death tilted his head to the side as he considered Mortuus's reasoning, "I suppose he would... Is this your only evidence to support your conclusion?" Mortuus shook his head, "It says in another paper a few days later that Jason burned alive for a significant amount of time after his daughter was killed..." Mortuus paused and took a deep breath, partly to add dramatic effect, "...Meaning he had time to regret the way he lost his daughter... That would probably drive someone into committing things the way the Shadow Man does."
Death couldn't deny that Mortuus was making some great points, and things were definitely beginning to fall into place like a puzzle. "Perhaps investigating the old Andrews' house would be vital to your understanding..." Death suggested, trying to push Mortuus in the right direction. While the angel of death isn't allowed to intervene, there are grey areas that would enable him to push someone toward the right fate.
Mortuus nodded and placed the papers down. He clicked off the light in the storage room and went to the front desk. "Thank you, Mrs. Knight. I actually managed to find exactly what I was looking for," Mortuus said before leaving the library. He followed the path that he knew led to Jason Andrews' house, but something was off.
The moment Mortuus stepped foot near the old driveway, another shadow figure attacked him; it seemed to run at him from nowhere. Mortuus moved, and it darted back at him. Mortuus tried hitting the figure again, but something happened; his fist passed through the figure.
He threw a punch at the figure's stomach, and his hand went through, causing Mortuus to lose his balance and fall. The figure attacked and punched him repeatedly. It was hitting him without mercy, as it just kept crashing fist after fist into Mortuus's face.
With a primal roar, Mortuus unleashed a barrage of blows upon the figure, his fists and knees driving forward with desperate intensity. Yet, his efforts were met with a horrifying response as thick, inky tentacles erupted from the figure's back, snaking forth with malevolent intent. Like grotesque appendages of some eldritch beast, they plunged into the ground, anchoring the figure firmly in place, rendering it impervious to Mortuus's onslaught. 85Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCgAIKGopCg
Despite his valiant attempts, Mortuus found himself ensnared in a relentless onslaught, each strike from the figure raining down upon him with unyielding brutality. There was a cruel efficiency to its assault, devoid of any semblance of mercy or restraint as if driven by an insatiable hunger for violence. With mounting dread, Mortuus realized that this onslaught showed no sign of abating, each blow driving him closer to the brink of oblivion. 85Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnh8VlDivrb
Mortuus tried everything to attack the figure, but nothing worked; his knife did nothing, and neither did his revolver. He tried getting the figure to loosen its grip, but every time he grabbed at its tentacles, the creature managed to hit him off.
With a swift movement, Mortuus finally managed to slide away from the shadowy figure. As he kicked the shadow, it responded by fading away into a puff of smoke that dissipated into thin air. The sound of the impact echoed in the forest's silence as Mortuus stood there, trying to catch his breath. The sudden disappearance of the shadowy figure left him feeling relieved yet puzzled at the same time.
"Where the fuck did it go?" he questioned as he panted each word. Just as fast as the figure had appeared, it disappeared. Mortuus looked around and tried to find the figure, but it had vanished entirely.
Mortuus found himself standing in front of the old, abandoned house on the hill. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a cool breeze brushed against his face. Just then, a movement in the dust-laden window caught his attention. He squinted, trying to get a better look. As he focused his gaze, he saw a figure sitting in an old chair, staring right back at him. Mortuus felt his heart race as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Was it a real person, or was it just his imagination playing tricks on him? He couldn't be sure, but the figure continued to watch his every move, sending a shiver down his spine.
Mortuus turned and left very quickly, "I'll... Uhh... I'll unpack that later." he thought as he walked back the way he came. His jaw was sore, and he could feel red-hot blood dripping down his chin from the shadowy figure's beating. The whole interaction had left him very uneasy.
With a trembling hand, he gingerly touched the sticky, blood-soaked bandages that covered his face. The Shadow Man had left him with brutal wounds that continued to throb with pain. Mortuus had fought many strange creatures in his time, but this one was different. The way it moved, its fighting style, was unnervingly familiar. As he reflected on the encounter, he realized that this cryptid revealed a crucial detail about its origins.
"It's hurting, Death... Whatever that thing is, its style reveals its anger and pain." he said to Death as the spirit appeared beside him. Death glided beside Mortuus in silence as he thought about his words.
Death thought carefully; he had not observed the mysterious Shadow Man displaying such emotions. "Please... Do enlighten me, my dear boy..." the spirit finally said, sounding very regal in his questioning. Mortuus nodded and continued his explanation. "The Shadow Man's punches were quick and sporadic... Almost like he was releasing pent-up rage."
Death chuckled to himself, "Speaking from experience, are we?" Mortuus rolled his eyes beneath the bandages. Death did have somewhat of a point, although Mortuus didn't want to admit that.
Mortuus thought for a moment, "It almost has a sort of... Stitcher-like attacking style... But... But defensively." Mortuus turned to Death. "Does... Does that make any sense?" Death nodded. Death couldn't quite explain it, but the Shadow Man's attacks had a defensive mannerism to them.
"It is entirely possible... Perhaps there is a reason." Death responded, "Are they protecting something?"
Mortuus came to a sudden halt as he realized that the Shadow Man was preventing him from approaching the house. He needed answers, but Death merely shrugged before vanishing, leaving him alone to contemplate the reason behind the mysterious force. 85Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAZ7ssMcwCK
