Under the iron grip of the loyalty seal implanted by the system, Riot didn't have many choices left to him. His once untamed will, his nature to devour and dominate, had been shackled.
He had no choice but to obey Luke's orders.
And to make matters worse, Luke had chosen an utterly laughable host for him, Red Braid, the clerk at his grocery store. The poor fool barely stepped outside the shop, let alone prowled the night for prey.
He spent his days hunched behind the counter, always watching the store, always muttering to himself, always too busy even to eat properly himself.
Riot, who once longed for blood and chaos, was trapped inside a man who lived like a caged bird.
When customers came, Riot dared not move. Those people weren't prey, they were "customers," and Luke's law was absolute. The customer is god. Luke repeated that endlessly.
So Riot's days had become suffocating. A predator forced to starve in the presence of endless forbidden meat.
That's why, when tonight's visitors arrived, he felt their hostility before he even saw them, Riot nearly trembled with excitement. An entire tide of malicious intent was washing toward the grocery store.
He could breathe and let go.
The lights flickered once, then went dark, and in an instant the grocery store became something unnatural. A square black maw on 58th Avenue, the open door looming like an abyss, waiting to devour anyone foolish enough to cross its threshold.
But the soldiers outside, armored and confident, had no idea what they were walking into.
After General Ross's death, the New York Military District had undergone so many personnel changes it was nearly unrecognizable. Entire chains of command had been broken, replaced, shuffled.
Among the whole New York military base, only a handful of Ross-era veterans remained. And in this convoy, just one.
He was a co-pilot in one of the armored transports, and his hands were sweating through his gloves.
When he learned their target was a "grocery store on 58th Avenue," his stomach had dropped like a stone.
The whole ride, he'd been muttering prayers under his breath, whispering warnings to the driver beside him.
"This place isn't right… it's not a normal store… you don't know what's inside…"
But the driver only sneered.
"Jerry, you've lost it. It's just a shop. We're rolling in with a hundred soldiers, armored vehicles, even helicopters on overwatch. What could go wrong? What are you saying, that this little convenience store is a secret Hydra fortress?"
He barked a cold laugh, shaking his head.
In his mind, Jerry had completely cracked. When they got back, he was already planning to report him for reassignment. A nervous wreck for a co-pilot?
That was dangerous and could even get him killed.
But Jerry's fear only deepened the closer they drew to the glowing corner of 58th Avenue.
"No… you don't understand. The news was covered up. The military buried it. That base in New York, the one that was destroyed? It wasn't aliens. It wasn't an accident. It was them. The things in this store. This store is hell dressed as a grocery shop."
The driver rolled his eyes.
"Aliens again? That's the rumor. Everybody knows that."
Jerry shook his head, voice trembling. "No. Worse. Much worse than aliens."
By the time they pulled within sight of the grocery store, its door stood open like an invitation. A door into the unknown.
The order crackled through the communicator: "All vehicles, aim at the grocery store. Snipers, to your positions. Helicopters, maintain high-altitude surveillance. Keep your eyes on the perimeter, do not let the target escape."
"First assault squad: enter and secure. Second squad, flank and prepare to reinforce."
At once, boots hit pavement. A squad of soldiers, faceless behind their visors, advanced toward the dark doorway. Their weapons gleamed under streetlights. Their movements were precise, almost mechanical.
And then they crossed the threshold.
At first, there was silence.
A horrified cry through the comms. The roar of rifles unloading inside the store, so frantic it was no longer controlled fire but raw panic.
The commander, sitting stiff in his armored vehicle, froze mid-thought.
He had considered this mission little more than a formality, an overreaction. A grocery store owner must have angered someone with power, why else would General Mike deploy such force? He had been half-smirking, imagining the ridiculous sight of elite soldiers storming a shop stocked with apples and soda.
Now his men were fighting like cornered animals, and not a single useful report was coming through.
His brows knotted. His voice, though shaken, carried authority: "Second squad, move! Support the first! Be careful not to hit your own!"
The second team rushed in, disappearing into the shadows.
The grocery store's door slammed shut with a weight that made the pavement tremble.
Every soldier outside turned at the noise. The shutter had come down as though dropped by some unseen hand.
The commander blinked.
Did his own men close it, to keep the target from fleeing?
Or… did something else trap them inside?
His thoughts scattered as another scream came through the comms.
The voices of his men were growing faint. Too faint.
"Third squad!" he barked, urgency cracking through his tone. "Prepare to breach the door! Move!"
One of the soldiers hurried forward, slapping a round shaped charge against the shutter. They retreated, braced, and…
The explosion tore the street with a blast of heat and smoke. But when the dust settled, the grocery store door stood untouched.
Not a single dent. Not even a scorch mark. This update ıs available on noveⅼfire.net
It still gleamed faintly in the streetlight, as if mocking them.
"…What?" one of the soldiers whispered.
The commander's face drained of color.
That shutter… it wasn't steel. It wasn't anything he understood.
His jaw clenched. He forced himself to sound decisive, though doubt gnawed at him.
"Third squad, fall back. Armored Vehicle One, prepare armor-piercing rounds. Blast that door open."
He hesitated for the briefest moment, listening to the dying cries through the comms. He knew full well that firing might kill his own men inside.
But if he didn't… if he delayed any longer… They wouldn't have any men left to save.