Anomaly

First of all, let me tell you about the upsides of being an anomaly. Of course, a lot depends on what kind of anomaly you are, but overall, there are some pretty appealing benefits. Many anomalies don’t feel hunger, cold, or heat, living without worrying about the basic needs that plague ordinary people. And that’s just the beginning.
Among all those perks, one stands above the rest: powers. In some cases, you might end up with just a single ability instead of several, but let’s be honest... that’s still infinitely better than having no powers at all, right? Besides, even a single anomalous ability can be more than enough to completely change the way you live, or the way the world sees you.
Now, moving on to the downsides of being an anomaly... even though I can’t speak for all of them, I can at least share my experience so far. I woke up alone in a strange, silent forest and, just to start things off right, I was almost killed by mutant dogs with mouths opening out of their stomachs, as if that were the most natural thing in the world.
Right after that, I nearly died again, this time to a living shadow that seemed to contain another dimension inside it... or something just as bizarre. When I thought I’d already hit the peak of absurdity, I ended up in a frozen region and almost got killed there by a terrifying giant octopus rising from a lake dark as a walking nightmare.
Oh, and of course, I can’t forget this little detail: at this exact moment, there’s a lunatic armed with a knife trying to kill us too. So, with all that said, my point is simple, being an anomaly is truly amazing, as long as there isn’t constantly something trying to murder you.
Still lost in my own thoughts, I was snapped out of them when Rupert’s voice echoed beside me: “Shit, man...” he muttered, his face twisted into a deep scowl: “I didn’t want to say anything, but this is scary as hell”
Victor completely ignored Rupert’s words. Instead, he turned his gaze to Arthur, his tense expression making it painfully clear just how screwed we were. His eyes stayed locked on the “Human” in front of us, as if expecting the worst at any second, before he finally muttered, his voice low and full of disbelief: “Any idea why there’s a psycho chasing us with a knife?”
Arthur didn’t answer right away. His eyes rested on the “Human” analyzing him coldly. Seconds dragged by in absolute silence. Finally, Arthur spoke: “I’m not sure... but it’s definitely an anomaly”
He cut himself off mid-sentence, as if a new possibility had just formed in his mind. His gaze slowly shifted, settling on me. The intensity of his stare made the seconds feel endless as his eyes examined me with the same ruthless scrutiny he’d used on the man ahead.
When he spoke again, his voice was steady, stripped of any hesitation: “Shoot that thing in the leg... full power”
“What?” Victor asked, slowly turning toward Arthur as if trying to decide whether he’d finally lost his mind. He frowned, a chill running up his spine: “Every instinct I have is screaming that this is a terrible idea”
Arthur nodded at Victor’s words, silently reinforcing his agreement. Seeing that, Victor raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by the lack of explanation. Arthur then broke the silence, his tone calm but heavy with conviction: “Trust me. I have a theory about what’s going on here... but we need to test it first” As he spoke, his eyes drifted for a moment, as if he were connecting invisible pieces, before locking back onto Victor with determination.
Victor still looked conflicted, his gaze fixed and his breathing shallow. I didn’t get the sense that his hesitation came from the man in front of us looking “human” but rather because, just as he’d said, something terrible would happen the moment he pulled the trigger. I felt that same dark, deep, insistent premonition, and because of that, I understood Victor’s hesitation perfectly.
“Are we taking a vote?” Rupert asked, keeping his rigid stance: “If that’s the case, my vote’s clear, we shoot before that thing gets another chance to try and stab us” His voice was firm and controlled, but the tension beneath it was unmistakable.
Meanwhile, the human in the distance kept watching us. He circled slowly, like a predator calculating the exact moment to strike, his gaze moving from one of us to the next, alert, inquisitive, as if searching for something specific. When his eyes landed on me, even if only for an instant, everything changed.
Without any warning, he charged. The knife was already raised, reflecting the faint light around us as he ran straight at me. I blinked, trying to process what was happening, but my body struggled to keep up with how quickly the situation had turned into pure danger.
“Shit! He’s coming again!” Rupert shouted, his finger clenched tight on the trigger as he aimed the gun at the human. Sweat streamed down his forehead as he shot a desperate glance over his shoulder: “Victor, move it! What are your orders?!”
Victor still looked torn, the conflict etched across his face for a few agonizing seconds. Then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes briefly, and opened them again, as if he’d reached an irreversible decision.
In a quick, tense motion, he aimed the weapon at the “Human’s” foot, his hand shaking slightly, and yelled with a voice full of anger and dread: “Shit, I don’t want to be responsible for whatever happens next!”
With those words, Victor fired. His weapon glowed blue for a few seconds, and in the next instant, a violent flash burst from the barrel. The light tore through the air at high speed, shooting straight toward the “Human’s” leg. When it hit, there was no blood and no resistance, his leg simply ceased to exist, erased as if it had never been there at all.
At the same time, at that exact instant, it was as if a strange connection had appeared out of nowhere. I felt something cross the space between us, as though something were torn from the man and sent straight into me.
Before I could understand what was really happening, my body pitched forward, heavy and unresponsive. I blinked in confusion, the world spinning slightly as I looked back toward my two legs, or rather, toward the empty space where one of them should have been. One of my legs was simply gone.
I saw Victor’s, Arthur’s, and Rupert’s expressions harden, along with those of every member of the anomaly response team, tightening within seconds, tense, alert. Me? I just kept staring at my lower half, frozen, trying to understand what the hell had just happened.
That’s when I noticed the “human” was missing a leg too. He dragged himself across the ground with whatever strength he had left, fingers digging into the dirt while he clutched the knife in his other hand, crawling slowly in my direction.
Jesus... what the hell was this guy? He was terrifying in so many different ways that it was hard to pinpoint exactly why.
“What the hell just happened? Why did the
lose one of her legs?” Rupert asked, his weapon still firmly trained on the man crawling across the ground and leaving an uneven trail behind him. At the same time, he shot me a tense sideways glance, concern barely concealed.
Arthur looked like he was about to speak, his lips parted, but before any words could form, my regeneration kicked in.
A sudden heat surged through my body, and the missing leg began to rebuild itself, growing back in a matter of seconds, as if time itself had been forced to reverse.
When I got back on my feet, still feeling a faint tingling sensation, the first thing I did was look at the “human” sprawled on the ground. He was still crawling, carving erratic marks into the dirt, but it didn’t last long.
Right before my eyes, his severed leg began to reform. First came strands of flesh, weaving together like living roots. Then muscle layered itself over them, pulsing, until bone rose within, solid, inevitable.
The entire process followed an unsettlingly familiar progression, almost like a warped mirror of what had happened to me moments earlier. With one cruelly obvious difference: I didn’t have flesh, muscle, or bones that needed rebuilding.
Within moments, the lunatic holding the knife pushed himself upright again, as if nothing had happened, both legs intact, not a single sign of damage.
Watching that absurd scene, I couldn’t help it and projected a thought to everyone: (Uh... I’m no expert on situations like this... but we’re completely screwed, aren’t we?)
I didn’t get a direct response, but their faces said everything I needed to know. Rupert raised his weapon again, his eyes flicking toward me, sharp and searching, as if waiting for silent confirmation.
I knew exactly why he was acting that way, so I simply nodded without saying a word. He nodded back, resolute. The next instant, his weapon began to glow blue, the same cold, intense hue as Victor’s.
A shot rang out, sharp, deafening, followed by a flash that sliced through the air. The projectile flew toward the “human,” aimed squarely at his head. My eyes widened. After all this time, that sight managed something rare: it genuinely surprised me.
(Wait!) I shouted mentally, projecting my voice toward Rupert. Judging by how everyone turned at once, it was clear he wasn’t the only one who heard me: (Why did you aim at...)
I didn’t get to finish. Because, well... even if you can’t feel pain, having your own head explode into a million gelatinous fragments flying in every direction is not exactly a pleasant experience, nor an easy thing to witness.
The remains of my head scattered across the area. Some vanished into the absolute darkness, swallowed whole. Others hung suspended in the air for brief moments, still carrying grotesquely recognizable traces of my face, one half-closed eye here, part of a smile there, twisted beyond anything human.
In short, it was a repulsive spectacle, something that looked ripped straight out of a horror movie, the kind that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and the uneasy feeling that none of it should exist.
I won’t go into too much detail about what happened to the “human” Suffice it to say, it was fairly similar to what happened to me, just with... more things flying around.
Blood sprayed in every direction, the air thick with the dull thud of impacts, and then his body collapsed miserably onto the ground without any resistance at all, like a puppet whose strings had been cut all at once.