The street was eerily silent. Those not at home had flocked a few blocks away to witness the spectacle at the circus that had just arrived in town. The only other person nearby was a homeless man, seated beside me on the bench, puffing on a joint as he worked on a crossword puzzle from a crumpled newspaper.

 

      Meanwhile, I sat quietly, gazing up at the moon.

 

      The man next to me nudged my arm, breaking the silence. “The quality of having an excessively high opinion of oneself or one’s own importance—five letters,” he read aloud.

 

      I adjusted my position on the bench, leaning back comfortably. “Pride,” I replied. “It’s only a tolerable quality if the person has good reasons for it.”

 

      The man nodded, grinning as he filled in the answer. Pausing mid-write, he looked at me, a spark of mischief in his eye. “I guess you’re not as exceptional a crossword player as I thought you’d be!” he teased, feigning disappointment.

 

      I turned my face toward him, a faint smirk curling my lips. “I am an exceptional player—in any game.”

 

      He held up the newspaper, pointing to his puzzle. “But the Y in pride doesn’t fit with the down clue.” His tone was half-mocking, half-serious.

 

      Pushing my red glasses down with a finger, I glanced at the page. “Pride is spelled with an I, not a Y,” I corrected him smoothly.

 

      “Oh! Thank you!” the man said, relief spreading across his face as he continued filling in the column.

 

      “You learned something new today,” I remarked, winking at him. “Take some pride in that.” The man laughed lightly, nodding in appreciation.

 

      My gaze drifted across the newspaper, and just above the crossword puzzle, an advertisement caught my attention: a cymbal-banging monkey toy. I scoffed softly. “I’m amazed by how ugly that thing is,” I said, pushing my glasses back up and returning my focus to the moon. The man next to me chuckled in agreement.

 

      In that quiet moment, I realized I was probably the closest thing to a friend he’d have tonight. For the past thirty minutes or so, I had been helping him fill in the words on that crossword puzzle, more to stave off my own boredom than out of any real sense of camaraderie, as I waited for fresh prey to wander down the street.

 

      One of my Red Mist creatures had assured me that sitting on the bench along this dull, gray street would not disappoint. The creature had been confident that potential prey would pass this very spot after leaving a kink event that had wrapped up just a few hours ago. Bitches—my creatures know exactly what I like.

 

      The homeless man beside me lowered his newspaper onto his lap to take another puff of his joint. “Where are you from?” he asked, seemingly interested in learning more about me after the brief time we had spent together.

 

      “I’m not sure where I’m from because I probably only became aware of my existence long after I had begun existing,” I replied, uncertain where this conversation was heading. Not that it mattered—I was merely passing the time, doing something other than helping him fill in crossword puzzles while I stared at the moon.

 

      He exhaled the smoke slowly, his half-lidded eyes focusing on me with a faint, closed-lip smile. There was confusion in his expression, but it was the kind he seemed accustomed to, unbothered by it. “And what’s the first thing you remember after becoming aware of your existence?”

 

      “I remember living in an era of constant wars, battles raging everywhere. Honestly, I think I was born from all the accumulated terror and suffering in abundance,” I said, my own curiosity piqued by his questions.

 

      The man’s expression shifted to one of surprising empathy. “I don’t know much about wartime—dropped out of school before middle school, y’know? Didn’t even know we had such a terribly recent one. Sorry about that, bro.”

 

      I adjusted my red glasses. “Don’t be. And it wasn’t so recent.” I sighed. “Back then, I was merely a wandering consciousness, constantly feeding on the plentiful emotions of humanity. Fear was the most abundant during that time.”

 

      His half-lidded eyes widened slightly in surprise, though the faint smile lingered. Before he could respond, I continued, “But during long intervals of peace, I had to feed on other emotions. In those cases, I developed a preference for the ones rooted in lust.”

 

      I arched my brows and gave a slight nod. “People weren’t nearly as inhibited before the invention of societal norms and certain religions, which clipped their wings.”

 

      The man pointed a finger at my chest and chuckled, interrupting himself with a small cough. “I really like you,” he said.

 

      I laughed with him before exhaling deeply. “I grew accustomed to the abundance of those emotions over the centuries. Imagine how difficult it was for me when the world changed, and those once plentiful feelings became as common as any other.”

 

      With an ironic tone, he grinned. “Wow, that must’ve been so hard for you. How’d you deal with it?” He took another drag from his joint.

 

      Shifting on the bench, I tucked one leg beneath me, turning my body to face him as I gestured animatedly. “I adapted. I ceased being just a wandering consciousness and used the energy I’d accumulated over the ages to create a physical form, one molded in the likeness of humans. With this body, I could pursue my favorite emotions, which are no longer as abundant as they once were.”

 

      I smiled knowingly. “If people don’t know true terror, I make sure to introduce them to it myself.”

 

      The man, still smiling with his half-closed eyes, pointed a finger again. “Good call choosing a human body. Bet it’d be problematic moving among your ‘food sources’ looking like a lion.”

 

      I raised a brow, surprised at the turn this conversation was taking. “Having a human form awakened something in me—sexuality, new needs, new desires that I have to satisfy. It’s no longer just about feeding to sustain or strengthen myself. It’s about indulging in creativity, exploring an artistic streak I discovered, and fulfilling preferences I never knew existed before having a body.”

 

      “For real,” he said, nodding in agreement as his gaze lingered, warm and curious.

 

      Leaning back against the bench, I turned to face forward, lacing my hands behind my head for support. “But I’m not complaining. This adaptation allowed me to truly live, not just exist. Hunting men ensnared by lust and using the same ability that granted me this body to terrify, torture, and humiliate them—turning them into my art—does more than empower me. It makes me feel alive.”

 

      My conversation was abruptly interrupted when I sensed four depraved minds moving together nearby. My gaze snapped in their direction. “Finally!” I exclaimed aloud, my sudden shift in behavior silencing the homeless man beside me.

 

      The intensity of the filth coursing through their thoughts was captivating, drawing my full attention. Those four men strolled past us, barely sparing a glance at me and the man on the bench as they continued on their way.

 

      They laughed and chatted, though I couldn’t catch the topic. Their sly, perverted smiles painted a vivid picture of their conversation. The scent of lust radiating from their thoughts made my anticipation for the feast ahead almost unbearable.

 

      The lust was so potent, I could see it glimmering in their eyes. I felt my own eyes begin to glow, revealing my excitement. For a fleeting moment, I let my guard down, the light almost slipping past my crimson lenses.

 

      The man beside me noticed my prolonged stare at the quartet. “Friends of yours?” he asked. He hadn’t seen the glow—my red glasses effectively shielded it.

 

      “They’re about to be,” I replied, already imagining the endless possibilities of torment and humiliation I could unleash upon those men. Then I turned to him, adding with a smirk, “They probably think you’re my friend too.”

 

      He lowered his gaze to his tattered, filthy clothes. “Sorry about that. Being seen as friends with someone like me probably isn’t the first impression you’d want to make.”

 

      Self-pity like his is such a turn-off. I shifted my focus back to my enticing targets. “Don’t worry about what men think. They don’t do that very often.” I heard the soft rustle of his newspaper as he raised it once more to resume his game.

 

      This man was the only safe human on that street. His thoughts lacked lust, pride, or ambition. There’s no thrill, no satisfaction in tormenting or humiliating someone devoid of even a shred of vanity. He wouldn’t even make for a light snack, just a waste of time and effort.

 

      Those four men, on the other hand, were hot—and they knew it. That arrogance made me even more eager to bring them down, to strip away the façade and expose their true selves. They were nearly at the end of the block, and I needed to act fast.

 

      Rising from the bench, my eyes locked onto my prey as they walked further away. Just as I began to move, the homeless man tugged lightly at my jacket. “Primary color, three letters.”

 

      Placing a hand on his shoulder, I smiled at the irony. “Red.”

 

      He lowered the paper onto his lap again. “We haven’t finished all the words. Where are you going?”

 

      I withdrew my hand, my focus already on the four men ahead. “To play a game far more exciting than this one.”

 

      As I started walking, Red Mist began to emanate from me, swirling toward the man. “Only I will remember this interesting conversation we had.” The mist enveloped him, pulsing softly. He slumped unconscious on the bench as I continued toward my prey, the mist dissipating in my wake.

 

      The four depraved men walked on, oblivious to my approach, as Red Mist began to radiate from me. I stretched my arms, cracked my neck, and flexed my fingers in anticipation. They turned a corner, and one of them—a man sporting a mustache—stopped to tie his shoe while the others continued ahead.

 

      Before he could finish, I was already upon him. “This place is so bland. It needs a touch of red,” I said aloud, the final word escaping in my true voice, rich with the excitement coursing through me.

 

      All four turned at the sound, startled. The Red Mist swirled quickly around the man crouched before me as I removed my red glasses and slipped them into my pocket.

 

      He froze, eyes widening as the mist thickened, engulfing him. Rising abruptly, he stumbled backward, his gaze darting between the encroaching mist and my glowing red eyes. “What the fuck?!” he blurted.

 

      From further ahead, a large, bald man called out, panic lacing his voice. “Moto! Get out of there!”

 

      I smirked, my focus locked on my first victim. Shrugging off my jacket, I tossed it behind me, where it vanished into the mist. “Moto? Hmm,” I mused.

 

      Moto turned and bolted toward his friends, but my Red Mist had already sealed him in. The clouds of fog distorted the light from the streetlamps, creating an illusion of endless space. Though he sprinted with all his might, he didn’t move an inch.

 

      Calmly, I began to walk toward him, relishing the terror growing in his frantic movements. He glanced back, eyes wide, and saw me steadily approaching, unhurried. He turned forward again, still running futilely in place. That bitch hadn’t yet realized what was happening. Bitch and stupid. Just how I like.

 

      “Running isn’t working, stupid bitch,” I said, my smile widening as I took another measured step.

 

      Moto’s untied shoe slipped off mid-stride, tripping him. He fell hard, scrambling to sit up, and his panicked eyes locked on mine, now much closer. Desperation took over. He grabbed the fallen shoe, stood, and aimed it at me like a weapon.

 

      I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “You’re about to throw a simple shoe at a thousands-of-years-old entity. Good luck with that.”

 

      He hurled the shoe with all his might. As it sailed toward me, I opened my arms and let myself fall backward. My body dipped through the Red Mist just before hitting the ground, vanishing entirely.

 

      A heartbeat later, I emerged from the mist behind him. Moto spun, his confusion and terror palpable as he scanned the swirling fog for me. Calmly, I placed my hand on his trembling shoulder and leaned in close, whispering, “Fun things happen in the dark.”

 

      He flinched violently at my touch and bolted in the opposite direction, disappearing into the mist. Yet, before he could comprehend what had happened, he reemerged at the exact spot he started, facing away from me. My hand was back on his shoulder. I could feel his body quaking beneath my grip.

 

      “What’s going on?!” Moto asked, his voice trembling. I slid my hand across his shoulder, savoring the delicious blend of emotions swirling within him. “It’s all about control,” I said with a sly smile. “I can do whatever I want with anyone inside the dense zone of my Red Mist.”

 

      I began to caress his shoulder as I continued, “My Red Mist is fully connected, whether it manifests as one expansive dense area or as separate zones spread far apart. I can move freely between dense zones or within different sections of the same zone.”

 

      Pausing my touch for a moment, I added, “Naturally, I can also manipulate you. Once you’re in my Red Mist, you could run endlessly, only to find yourself sent back to the exact same place over and over again.”

 

      I let my hand trail down to Moto’s quivering back. “But control goes far beyond merely playing games of repositioning.” Moto tried to run again, but with a single pulse of my Red Mist, I stripped him of the ability to move his limbs. “You won’t so much as lift a finger in here without my permission.”

 

      My Red Mist pulsed again, and I made Moto slowly raise his left arm against his will, his open hand coming to rest in front of his face. “You’ll move only as I command.”

 

      Another pulse, and I had him extend his index finger, pressing it gently against his own nose. “Absolute control,” I murmured, chuckling softly. Leaning closer, I whispered into his ear, “Your will is my toy.”

 

      I withdrew my hand from Moto’s trembling back and stepped in front of him. “Dance, my puppet, dance!” I commanded, my laughter echoing through the dense, crimson haze as I forced him into an awkward, clumsy jig. His eyes darted frantically, searching for anything to anchor him, but it was futile. Everything around him—land and sky—was drenched in the bloody red of my mist.

 

      With a smirk, I froze Moto mid-movement, leaving him in a hunched position, legs bent awkwardly, arms raised, and hands clutching his head. I stepped closer, tracing two fingers slowly down the goosebumps on one of his raised arms. “The pulse in your veins is racing,” I murmured, savoring his terror. “And I haven’t even told you the most exciting part yet.” My grin widened as I pulled back, giving him just a glimpse of the horror to come.

 

      I released the control over Moto’s limbs, and the Red Mist pulsed again. His clothes began to dissolve, merging seamlessly into the swirling mist around us. “These rags will only get in the way of my art,” I said with a cold smile. Moto stared in shock as his garments disappeared right before his eyes. “I do hope you’re the type who screams.” I said, excited for what was about to happen.

 

      Another pulse of the mist rippled through the air, and Moto’s limbs began to shrink unnaturally, their proportions twisting grotesquely. His face contorted in pure terror as he witnessed his body betraying him. “What the hell are you doing to me?!” he screamed, his voice cracking with panic. “You monster!”

 

      I tilted my head, savoring his despair. “If you already call me a monster, what will you call me when I do everything I have planned?” My voice dripped with amusement as I drank in the fear radiating from him.

 

      His transformation continued, his form shrinking and warping into something unrecognizable. His screams dwindled into desperate, pitiful whimpers as his body compressed into a small, distorted figure, now lying motionless on the ground.

 

      “I control not just your movements but your very form,” I said, gazing down at him, his face frozen in an expression of unrelenting horror. “Inside my Red Mist, your body becomes whatever I desire. To me, you’re nothing more than a toy.”

 

      The dense swirl of Red Mist that had enclosed us suddenly fell away, dispersing to the sides and revealing Moto’s bizarre new shape to his horrified friends. Their faces were etched with a chaotic blend of emotions—shock, discomfort, terror—and all the while, Moto’s muffled groans echoed pitifully from the ground.

 

      “I can feel the delicious cocktail of emotions rolling off all of you,” I said, my voice brimming with unrestrained excitement. “But Moto’s fear is simply intoxicating.” I leaned back and grinned, letting my true voice slip out in my exhilaration. “We’re going to have so much fun tonight!”

 

      Moto’s blonde friend pulled out his phone with trembling hands and hastily dialed a number. “Amp! Who are you calling?” asked his spiky-haired friend, panic edging his voice.

 

      “I’m calling the cops!” Amp answered without hesitation, his gaze flitting between Moto on the ground and me standing calmly amidst the Red Mist.

 

      When the call connected, Amp blurted out in a rush, “I need help! There’s a man here with glowing red eyes and some kind of… red fog! He—he just turned my friend into something… tiny and weird!” His voice cracked as he rambled, clearly not thinking through his words.

 

      I crossed my arms, watching the unfolding spectacle with amusement. There’s a certain charm to human stupidity, and Amp’s frantic antics were fun to witness.

 

      On the other end of the line, the response was evidently less than supportive. Amp’s eyes widened, and he protested, “What? No! This isn’t a prank!” His head shook in desperation as he tried to plead his case. “Please, don’t hang up!” he begged, but the defeat on his face a moment later said it all. Lowering the phone, he stood there in shock, disillusioned.

 

      I chuckled softly, pointing an open hand toward Moto. “Shocked by my artwork, are you?” Their gazes returned to Moto, whose bizarre form moaned on the ground.

 

      Smiling broadly, I announced, “I’ve come for you tonight, to play a twisted game,” I announced, my voice dripping with mockery. I glanced at Moto. “I’ll hunt each of you. Anyone caught will join Moto in his pathetic, pocket-sized form”. I turned my glowing eyes back to them. “But if even one of you manages to escape my grasp until dawn, I’ll release the others.”

 

      I raised my hand toward Moto before gesturing at the rest of them, palm down. “Oh, and by the way, the name of your ‘glowing-eyed' man is Krynshar.” Curling my fingers into a fist, I continued, “You'll remember who to blame for everything that happens tonight.”

 

      As Red Mist began to spill from my body like smoke from a fire, forming a thick shroud behind me, I crouched next to Moto and locked eyes with him. His friends, meanwhile, finally gave in to fear, running and screaming for help.

 

      Lifting my head, I watched them flee. Only one of them hesitated: the big, bald one, who lingered, torn between fleeing and helping Moto.

 

      “Adam! Come on!” shouted the spiky-haired one, his voice already distant.

 

      “But Banjo... what about Moto?!” Adam called back, his worry painted across his face.

 

      Amp, further ahead, yelled, “We can’t help him if we get caught too!”

 

      Adam’s expression crumpled, but with a reluctant nod, he turned and ran, joining his friends in their frenzied escape.

 

      Lowering my head once more, I stared at Moto, still moaning helplessly on the ground. “Run in panic, screaming for help. How original,” I muttered, scooping him up in one hand.

 

      Moto trembled in my grip, his terror almost palpable. Bringing him closer to my face, I grinned wickedly. “Now you’re my little piece of art,” I whispered, savoring the way his distorted body shuddered in response.

 

      Standing tall again, I glanced toward the fleeing figures of his companions. “You’re so stupid now,” I teased Moto, giving him a light squeeze. He moaned in response. This was fun, but I needed a lot more. There was a time when just a few screams or moans did the trick. “I wonder—what hurts more? Your distorted body or your shattered pride?”

 

      Pleasure surged through me as I squeezed him. Pain and humiliation, just two words for pleasure. But I reminded myself not to linger too long; the true game was only beginning, and I had more prey to chase. I fed on a portion of Moto's emotions.

 

      Slipping Moto into my pocket, I whispered, “You’ll be reunited with your friends soon enough.” Then, my Red Mist extended toward the others. They didn’t seem to trust my promise of freedom if they won the game—not that it mattered. They had no choice but to run.

 

      As usual, I didn’t bother running. Instead, I allowed the Red Mist to advance ahead, moving my body through the denser areas of the mist to the more concentrated sections further along. Glancing back, they froze in terror, their widened eyes revealing their fear as they saw the mist closing in faster than their legs could carry them.

 

      Excitement surged within me as their panic fed my anticipation. The three perverts veered right at the next corner. I didn’t yet know what lay beyond, but curiosity mingled with amusement as I rounded the bend and spotted them darting into a church.

 

      I supposed they weren’t seeking divine intervention. Late at night, with few public spaces open, a structure as large as this likely seemed like the perfect place to hide or buy themselves time. What an ironic twist of fate that the nearest open place for kinksters to hide turned out to be a church.

 

      As my Red Mist reached the church’s threshold, it swirled and thickened, pooling into a dense formation at the entrance. Without hesitation, I shifted my body forward, materializing before the heavy wooden doors. Studying the imposing facade, I contemplated the labyrinthine possibilities within. So many places to conceal themselves.

 

      Pushing open the doors, I stepped into a vast hall lined with pews stretching toward a grand altar at the far end. Behind it, four closed doors marked separate paths, two on each side. Standing at the center of it all, a priest glared at me with righteous indignation. Clearly, those bitches had said something to rile him before vanishing deeper into the church.

 

      My Red Mist followed me, spilling into the nave like a crimson tide. Fixing my glowing eyes on the priest, I asked, my true voice resonating through the chamber, “Which of the four doors did the three run through?”

 

      The priest, clearly taken aback by my entrance, fumbled for a crucifix hidden within his robes. Raising it with trembling hands, he shouted, “Leave the house of the Lord, demon!”

 

      I couldn’t suppress my laughter, the sound echoing in the vast hall. Chuckling, I began to stride toward him. “Will you face me? With a wooden crucifix? Oh, darling.” I said, a smirk curling my lips.

 

      The Red Mist swept forward, engulfing the hall in a thick haze. Directing it to condense near the altar, I called out with my true voice, “Haffen!” Instantly, one of my creatures emerged, leaping from the mist with a predatory grace.

 

      “Haffen,” I commanded, “find them for me!”

 

      Without hesitation, Haffen raised his spectral nose, sniffing out the pungent trail of fear they had left behind. His gaze locked onto the second door on the left. In an instant, he was bounding toward it, his semi-ethereal body dissolving into mist and slipping through the cracks of the door. Haffen’s uncanny ability to track fear made escape impossible. I had no doubt he’d locate them swiftly.

 

      The priest, pale and trembling, began to pray fervently. I approached the altar, dismissively addressing him, “You won’t be able to hide those bitches for long.”

 

      His eyes flared with a misplaced sense of authority. “Do not use such language in the house of the Lord, demon!” he barked, attempting to chastise me. “This is a place of respect, and I will uphold that regardless of what you are.”

 

      I yawned deliberately in an exaggerated display of disinterest and continued my approach.

 

      Undeterred, he pressed on. “I have studied the word of God for years, preaching to keep evil like you out of—”

 

      I cut him off with another, louder yawn, mocking him. “Please, keep telling me your story. Yawning is my favorite way of showing how interested I am in hearing it.”

 

      “I am pure and unafraid of you! You cannot harm me!” the priest shouted, shaking the crucifix in my direction. I chuckled, my voice low and mocking. “Save your lies for your flock, priest.” My eyes glowed brighter, piercing into his mind. “I can smell the stench of desires far from pure emanating from you.”

 

      Raising my hands to shoulder height, I spread them wide, palms outward. “And I can see your fear. What kind of predator would I be if I couldn’t recognize my food standing right before me?” Lowering one hand, I wagged a finger with the other. “But you’re not exactly my type of prey.”

 

      “What do you want with those poor souls?” the priest asked, his trembling hand still clutching the crucifix. “To grant their desires,” I replied, grinning as I reached the altar.

 

      Stopping in front of the priest, I plucked the crucifix from his hand and pressed its edge against his chest. “I know they’ve longed to have their bodies dominated and humiliated, likely while stroking themselves to fantasies so depraved you’d scold me for even uttering them here.” I dropped the crucifix to the floor, letting it clatter between us.

 

      The priest’s mouth opened to respond, but before he could, Haffen growled, the sound reverberating through the church like a thunderclap. I turned toward the source, smiling. “Ah, there’s my signal.”

 

      Looking back at the priest, I smiled wider. “My doggie has found my prey.” The priest began tracing the sign of the cross with his hand, trembling as tears welled in his eyes. “The Lord will save them from their sinful lives and depravity!” he declared.

 

      I leaned in close, my voice a whisper just above his ear. “We both provide fantasies, priest, but mine are more fun."

 

      Encircling him with my Red Mist, I drew Moto from my pocket. “You wanted to know what I intend to do with them,” I said, bringing Moto close to his face. “I intend to do this. In fact, far worse.”

 

      The priest’s jaw dropped as he stared at Moto, shock freezing him for a moment before he regained his voice. “God will punish you for your actions!” he shouted.

 

      Raising an eyebrow, I smiled faintly. “Which god?” I asked, my tone laced with amusement. “I have creatures disguised as humans spread across the world. If I want to visit another country, all I need to do is pass through the Red Mist of one of their bodies, and I’m there in an instant.”

 

      I dangled Moto playfully before him. “I hunt everywhere, constantly moving. I’ve met countless religious leaders who serve different gods, and many of them have threatened me in their names. Yet not one of those threats has ever come to fruition.”

 

      The priest began to pray for divine intervention, tears mingling with the trembling movements of his hand as he drew yet another cross in the air. Moto whimpered pitifully, as though pleading for rescue.

 

      I slipped Moto back into my pocket and stepped away from the priest. “I have no intention of turning you into one of my creations like this little bitch.” My gaze flicked to the crucifix discarded on the ground. “Unless you’ve got something more dangerous to threaten me with than a wooden cross.” I chuckled softly, then louder, rolling my eyes back to the priest. “Perhaps it’s your god keeping you safe.”

 

      My Red Mist around him thickened, swirling ominously. Mocking, I traced a cross in the air with my finger. “In the name of Me, the Mist, and the Holy Pleasure.” I pressed my palms together in mock prayer, closing my eyes.

 

      Peeking one eye open, I met the priest’s horrified gaze, his face a mixture of terror and confusion. “Amen,” I whispered as the Red Mist surrounding him pulsed, and he collapsed unconscious onto the floor.

 

      Summoning a dense pool of mist beside me, I smirked down at him. “Naughty dreams, priest,” I whispered before plunging my arm into the swirling haze.

 

      In the next moment, half of my arm was piercing through a small, dense patch of Red Mist formed by Haffen in another part of the church. Haffen had used his own body to create a passage for me, but his mist wasn’t dense enough to form an opening large enough for my entire body.

 

      I began emitting more Red Mist through my arm, thickening and reinforcing the area until the passage widened sufficiently for me to pass through with ease.

 

      Emerging from the mist, I found myself in a small, dimly lit room with brown walls. Before me, Adam was hoisting Banjo onto his shoulders to help him through a high window that led outside. Amp was nowhere to be seen—he had clearly escaped through the window already.

 

      Wasting no time, I directed my Red Mist toward them. Banjo managed to scramble through the window just in time, but as Adam attempted to climb onto a chair for his escape, he lost his balance in his haste. The chair toppled, sending him sprawling to the floor. The delay was all I needed. My mist enveloped him.

 

      “Locking yourself in a cramped room to make my job easier? You’re too kind,” I said with a wide, satisfied grin. From outside the window, I could hear Banjo’s footsteps and his frantic cries for help. The mist covering the window would make it obvious that his friend wouldn’t be following.

 

      “You’re scared, but not surprised,” I remarked, watching as Adam struggled to his feet. “As I suspected, you didn’t expect a church—or a priest waving a stick—to stop me.” Crossing my arms, I narrowed my eyes. “You were just buying time, hoping to throw me off."

 

      Adam stared back at me with a confused expression. “Can you read my mind?” he blurted, his voice trembling.

 

      I shook my head, letting out a small laugh. “No, but I can see and feel your emotions. Years of experience have made me quite skilled at interpreting them, especially when paired with context.”

 

      “Is the priest okay?!” Adam asked, his concern for a stranger puzzling but amusing.

 

      I rolled my eyes dramatically. “He’s probably being haunted by disjointed dreams of the things he witnessed before he fainted.” Raising a hand to eye level, I wagged a finger at Adam. “Right now, though, you should worry about yourself.”

 

      Adam grabbed the fallen chair and positioned himself to swing it at me. “No one will take me down that easily!” he declared, his voice bold, though his courage misplaced.

 

      I tugged at the collar of my shirt with mock interest. “You should put that on a T-shirt.”

 

      With a determined yell, Adam charged at me with the chair. I remained still, arms crossed, as my Red Mist pulsed. The chair began dissolving into the mist, merging seamlessly with the swirling haze.

 

      When Adam reached me, he swung, his eyes clenched shut, only to realize there was no impact. Opening his eyes, he found himself holding only two small fragments of wood, which were quickly disintegrating in his hands.

 

      “The best weapon to save yourself from me is intelligence” I said, shaking my head with a smirk, “and you’re unarmed.”

 

      The Red Mist pulsed again, and Adam stumbled backward, now standing a meter away from where he had been. He looked around in confusion, disoriented. Another pulse of mist, and his clothes began dissolving, merging with the crimson fog.

 

      Adam’s terror was palpable—he knew what was coming, and his fear only heightened my excitement. As his clothing disintegrated completely, he started pleading, desperation clear in his voice. “Don’t do this to me! Please!”

 

      His begging only fueled my desire. I raised an eyebrow, taking in his newly exposed, broad physique. “Interesting,” I mused. “You should wear more tank tops, like your friends.” Then, with a sly grin, I added, “Flex for me.”

 

      Adam’s pleas faltered as confusion crossed his face. The Red Mist pulsed, and I manipulated his body into the flexed pose I desired. Taking a step back, I vanished into the mist, only to reappear behind him in an instant.

 

      Examining his muscular arms up close, I ran a finger along one bicep. “You really are a big boy,” I remarked, laughing. “But not for long.”

 

      Adam could only respond with muffled groans, the last vestiges of his resistance evident in his trembling frame.

 

      I smiled as I traced my fingers down his arm. “I can feel you fighting for control, but surely you realize it’s a futile effort.” Slipping back through the mist, I reappeared several feet in front of him. “You’re mine—to control, to twist, and to mold.” Partially releasing him from my control, I allowed the Red Mist to pulse once more, forcing his arms skyward as his transformation began.

 

      Adam's arms began to shrink disproportionately, and he resumed his desperate pleas as he stared at one of his limbs, horrified by what was happening. “No, no, no! Please, stop!” His legs soon followed, beginning to shrink. “Noooo! I’ll do anything!”

 

      The rest of his body morphed slowly, twisting into its small, distorted form while he screamed and begged incessantly. I couldn’t help but indulge in the moment, finally speaking to him. “You’re remarkable at making my skin tingle." Moments later, he collapsed to the ground, motionless and overwhelmed with terror, his transformation complete.

 

      I retrieved Moto from my pocket with one hand while picking Adam off the floor with the other. “Not such a big boy now, are you?” I brought them close to each other. Moto stared in horror at Adam, taking in every unsettling detail of what had been done to his friend’s body. Adam returned the look, his eyes wide with dismay.

 

      The swirl of powerful emotions emanating from them was intoxicating, like a feast I couldn’t resist. But there was still work to be done. I fed on a portion of Adam’s emotions before slipping both of the perverts back into my pocket. I extended my Red Mist through the church window, forming a dense area outside for me to cross into.

 

      Emerging from the dense Red Mist outside the church, I spotted Amp running a significant distance ahead of Banjo. It made sense; Amp had jumped through the window before him. Both were still screaming desperately for help, their voices echoing down the deserted street.

 

      This time, they were heading toward the distant city circus. That wouldn’t do. Allowing them to reach a crowded location would mean far more effort and energy than I cared to expend.

 

      I sent a veil of Red Mist surging toward the fleeing duo. Banjo, being closer, glanced back over his shoulder and screamed, “Please, don’t do that to me!” as he saw the mist closing in.

 

      Crossing from one dense pocket of Red Mist near me to another further ahead, I whispered into the night air, “Scream, run, beg—they’re all valid reactions.”

 

      Even so, the closest Red Mist wouldn’t reach Banjo in time to stop him from reaching the circus. I needed to move faster.

 

      I pulled Moto from my pocket and tossed him into the air before me. Instantly, the Red Mist around us surged forward, enveloping him midair. It pulsed, and Moto’s body began to grow and contort into a quadrupedal shape.

 

      Moto’s horror was palpable as his hands transformed into hooves, his nose elongated and merged with his mouth into a protruding snout. Falling to all fours, his anatomy further twisted—his anus and testicles grotesquely swelled while his member extended. Finally, his ears stretched and grew long, and a ridiculous little tail sprouted above his misshapen rear. Moto had been turned into a grotesque mockery of a donkey.

 

      The Red Mist dissipated, swirling toward Banjo in the distance. Moto, now confused, glanced down at his altered body. I stepped closer and briefly ruffled his hair with amusement. “This form suits you,” I remarked.

 

      Moto scanned his surroundings until his gaze landed on a parked car. Stumbling toward it on unsteady legs, he tripped over his hooves and fell flat on his belly.

 

      “Stupid donkey!” I laughed, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle. Though time wasn’t on my side, I couldn’t resist indulging for a moment longer, enjoying the show.

 

      Struggling to his feet, Moto wobbled toward the car again and peered at his reflection in the window. His mouth fell open in disbelief as he saw his distorted donkey face staring back at him. “What have you done to me?! Heee-Haaaaw!” he cried, his braying involuntary and absurd.

 

      “Don't be so upset! I can fix your hair!” I teased mockingly as Moto spun clumsily in circles, turning his backside toward the window for a better look. Crossing my arms, I watched as he lifted one hoof toward his face, failing to reach. Finally, he positioned his face against the window again, scrutinizing his elongated ears and muzzle, twitching them in disbelief. “Heee-Haaaaw!” His protests were comical.

 

      “I’ve wasted enough time!” I declared, releasing a dense wave of Red Mist that slammed into the car, sending it skidding away and flipping over, its alarm blaring in protest.

 

      The sudden explosion of sound startled Moto, causing him to stumble backward, his legs tangling as he fell awkwardly onto his hindquarters.

 

      I approached him, my tone firm and commanding. “Watching your initial meltdown was amusing, but I won’t waste any more time waiting for you to adjust to your new form.”

 

      “Get up!” I ordered in my true voice, the authority in it making Moto’s eyes widen in fear as he scrambled to his feet. I mounted him with ease. “You’ll carry me wherever I need to go,” I said, reverting to the voice of my human guise.

 

      “Heee-Haaaaw! I won’t do it! I’m not your pack mule! Heee-Haaaaw!” Moto protested, shaking his head wildly, his long ears flapping.

 

      “You don’t have a choice. Either you comply, or I’ll make you.” My words were sharp as I spurred him with my heel, sending him lurching into an awkward gallop toward Banjo.

 

      We soon reached the expansive curtain of Red Mist surging toward Banjo, but Moto’s ungainly pace wasn’t enough to make up for the time lost since his transformation. It was clear we wouldn’t reach Banjo before he made it to the circus. A new plan formed in my mind.

 

      As Moto stumbled onward through the mist, I pulled Adam from my pocket. Red Mist poured from my hand, engulfing Adam’s tiny, distorted body. With a pulse, the transformation began anew.

 

      Adam’s body swelled grotesquely, inflating into a spherical shape. His neck and head sank into his torso, his groin receded into his bloated abdomen, and his weight increased disproportionately to his size. The mist cleared, leaving me holding a dense, heavy ball of flesh with small, stupid arms and legs.

 

      Adam stared up at me, terror and confusion etched across his face. “What’s happening?!” he stammered through a crooked mouth, struggling to comprehend his grotesque state. Poor thing, he had no idea what was coming next.

 

      I waited for Moto to close the gap between us and Banjo. When the distance felt right, I channeled a surge of Red Mist through my arm, wrapping it tightly as I prepared to throw.

 

      The moment I released Adam, the mist around my arm pulsed like a shockwave, propelling him with immense force toward Banjo. Adam collided with Banjo’s back, the impact sending Banjo sprawling face-first onto the ground. My Red Mist surged forward, surrounding him.

 

      Banjo propped himself up on his elbows, turning his face in terror as the mist closed in. His scream echoed as he realized what was coming, the dense Red Mist forming a suffocating barrier around him.

 

      Dismounting from Moto, I allowed the transformation to reverse, returning him to his previous small, distorted form. Slipping him back into my pocket, I turned my focus to Banjo, trapped and trembling within the mist.

 

      I stepped forward through the Red Mist, and in an instant, I stood face-to-face with Banjo. Leaning down, I brought my face close to his. "The glow in my pretty eyes will be the last thing you see as a human. Lucky you."

 

      Banjo scrambled to his feet, backing away as his wide eyes darted around the swirling mist that enveloped him. He was trapped, completely surrounded by the Red Mist. I savored the growing fear emanating from him, a delicious inevitability filling the air. By this point, I had already resigned myself to the fact that Amp would reach the circus in time.

 

      Sending another surge of the Red Mist toward Amp’s path, I began advancing toward Banjo. Step by step, his retreat mirrored my approach until his heel caught on a stone roughly the size of his hand. Banjo snatched it up and glared at me.

 

      "Stay back! I don’t want to have to hit you with this!" he warned.

 

      I smirked. "You’re going to hit me?" I arched an eyebrow, giving him a slow, appraising look—from his shirtless torso strapped in a harness to the tight shorts clinging to his form. "Dressed like that?"

 

      I took another step forward, and Banjo let out a desperate yell, raising the stone high as he prepared to strike. "I said stay back!"

 

      The Red Mist pulsed, and the stone in his hand began to dissolve, crumbling away as it merged with the swirling haze. Banjo’s arm dropped as he stared at the disintegrating rock, his mouth agape in shock.

 

      With another step, I moved through the mist and reappeared behind him. As Banjo stood frozen, his focus still on the vanishing stone, I watched with quiet amusement. When he turned his head back to where I had been, his eyes darted around, confused by my absence.

 

      He stepped backward and stumbled into my chest. Spinning around, his face was inches from my glowing red eyes. His fear turned into pure instinct as he bolted in the opposite direction, vanishing into the thick mist.

 

      I sighed, rolling my eyes as I traversed the mist again, appearing ahead of him in the blink of an eye. “If I didn’t have to deal with your other friend, I’d happily keep doing this all night.”

 

      Banjo skidded to a stop, his panic doubling as he turned and fled once more. I watched, bemused, before repeating the process. The next time our paths crossed, I stood in his way, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your fear has gone to your head and found plenty of space in there."

 

      Confusion and shock painted his face as he slowed to a hesitant retreat. For once, he seemed to understand that running was futile. His steps faltered, and his expression shifted abruptly—his chest puffed out in a feeble attempt at bravado.

 

      “I’m not afraid of you or your glowing ‘pretty eyes,’” Banjo declared, though his trembling voice betrayed him.

 

      I laughed—a sharp, mocking sound. “My glowing eyes aren’t for scaring people or making me look good,” I said, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “I mean, they work for those things too.”

 

      Closing the distance between us, I continued, "These eyes let me see your emotions, even when I can’t see your body in the mist. It’s like you’re a walking, human lantern, glowing in different colors.”

 

      Banjo froze for a moment before stepping back again, his voice incredulous. “A lantern glowing in different colors?!”

 

      I tilted my head, my gaze raking over him. “Each of your emotions has its own color. But one color interests me most of all.”

 

      Crossing my arms, I grinned. "Terrorizing you is fun, but the goal is to make the color of your fear overpower everything else before I feed on it."

 

      Banjo’s retreat ended abruptly when he tripped over Adam, who lay on the ground nearby. He fell hard, landing beside his now-distorted friend. “Banjo!” Adam croaked, his voice trembling.

 

      Spreading my arms wide, I declared, “Fear is my main source of energy. Its essence saturates my mist, turning it this vivid shade of red. Even human eyes can see its color."

 

      Gesturing to the mist surrounding us, I added with pride, “This beautiful red hue around us is proof of just how effective I am at terrorizing little bitches like you before I devour your emotions.”

 

      Banjo clutched his head, shaking it as if trying to deny the truth. His defiance amused me, and I moved closer, my voice laced with authority. "That's why lying to me is pointless—I know that you're terrified. I literally see it."

 

      Standing over him now, I grabbed his chin, forcing him to face me. “Open your eyes. I want you to see everything.” Banjo flinched but obeyed, his gaze locking onto mine. My glowing red eyes reflected in his.

 

      The mist pulsed around us as Banjo’s clothes began dissolving, merging with the haze. His limbs shrank as his body contorted, rising into the air, suspended by the Red Mist.

 

      “Please, stop! Don’t do this to me! I’ll do anything!” Banjo pleaded, his cries laced with desperation.

 

      Laughing, I pointed to Adam on the ground. “Your friend said the same thing. Look at him now—a mere toy for my amusement.”

 

      Banjo’s form finished shrinking, collapsing into a small, twisted shape next to Adam. The two exchanged horrified glances.

 

      “There’s no time for a reunion,” I said, scooping up Adam first.

 

      “Please give me my freedom back! I’ll give you everything I have!” Adam stammered weakly.

 

      “Freedom?” I repeated with a grin. “Do you really believe you'll have it—even after you say it out loud?” With a pulse of my mist, I returned him to his previous, distorted and immobilized state and slipped him into my pocket.

 

      Grabbing Banjo with my other hand, I sniffed the air dramatically. “You smell nice. I bet it takes a lot of deodorant to handle the wilderness under those arms.” I winked, laughing at his muffled groans. I briefly fed on Banjo's emotions. Without hesitation, I stored Banjo in my pocket, ready to continue my pursuit.

 

      I parted the Red Mist around me, focusing on the path I had sent my haze toward Amp. In the distance, I saw him slipping through the entrance of the circus. Closing the mist back around myself, I moved swiftly, traversing the thick haze in an instant, and reappeared in the mist outside the circus gates.

 

      Before me loomed the enormous circus tent, its vibrant colors muted by the faint glow of the night. It was obvious that a crowd must have gathered inside. I couldn't enter unprepared. Expanding the Red Mist, I enveloped the entire circus, creating a dome of blood-red sky. Nothing would enter or leave without my permission. I wasn’t about to give Amp the same opportunity to escape that he had at the church.

 

      At the entrance, a sign caught my attention: “Bar inside. No minors allowed.” That explained the late-night buzz. I began strolling toward the entrance, savoring in my mind the terror-filled screams of what would soon be my final prey of the night. My thoughts were interrupted by the heavy press of an arm against my chest.

 

      Opening my eyes, I found myself face-to-face with a hulking bouncer, his expression a cocktail of irritation and authority. "You need a ticket to get in," he growled.

 

      I took a step back, raising a brow. “A blonde kid just ran through here, didn’t he? Something tells me he didn’t stop to buy a ticket.”

 

      The bouncer’s brows knitted together in annoyance. “Your friend? He dashed past me while I was coming back from the bathroom. I didn’t have time to stop him.” Leaning closer, he added, “But I already reported him to security. If you want to go in, you’ll need a ticket.”

 

      With a faint smile, I tilted my head. “I don’t carry money, and I’m not here to watch the show, sweetie. Just let me through.”

 

      He retracted his arm momentarily, lifting his sleeve to reveal a tacky skull tattoo etched on his forearm. “See this? Got it in prison. Did time for assault,” he gave me a menacing glare.

 

      I glanced at the tacky tattoo and raised an eyebrow. “What a peculiar choice this circus made for a bouncer,” I remarked, unimpressed.

 

      He covered the tattoo with his sleeve again. "But I've paid my debt. I served my sentence until the last day.”

 

      I offered him a cynical smile. “Your mother must be proud. Now, get out of my way.” But instead of moving, he put his arm in front of me once more.

 

      I leaned forward, locking my glowing red eyes with his. “There are two types of people,” I said, letting my true voice resonate. “Those who live their lives, and those who bother me.”

 

      His eyes widened in fear as he quickly withdrew his arm and stumbled back, giving me a wide berth as he stared into my eyes. A threat delivered with the right intonation and a pretty pair of menacing, glowing red eyes—always works.

 

      I stepped into the circus, my eyes scanning the crowd for Amp. It didn’t take long to find him—he was across the tent, deep in conversation with a security guard. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it hardly mattered. The dynamic was obvious: Amp wouldn’t leave the guard’s side until he believed he was safe.

 

      As the weight of the situation settled, I began to emanate Red Mist, letting it seep along the ground like a creeping tide. From behind me, a voice rang out, brimming with excitement: “Now this is gonna be a real show!” A ripple of cheers and laughter followed, as if the growing mist was part of the evening’s entertainment.

 

      How quaint, I thought, my lips curling into a sly grin. “I'll turn this hunt into a spectacle,” I murmured, savoring the thought.

 

      The crowd’s cheers drew Amp’s attention. He and the guard both turned toward me. Amp whispered something to the guard, his face pale and filled with dread. The guard, unamused, pulled a radio from his jacket, muttered a terse message, and began advancing in my direction, leaving Amp huddled near the corner of the tent.

 

      “Don’t forget!” Amp’s voice carried across the distance, shaky but loud enough to be heard. “He’s dangerous—and armed!” His words were chosen carefully. He had learned how to phrase his warnings without sounding like a lunatic after his last failed attempt to get help.

 

      The guard’s hand moved instinctively to his belt, hovering near a stun gun as he approached. Just then, I felt the familiar pang of fear radiating from behind me. Slowly, I turned my head, already knowing what I would find.

 

      The bouncer was there, skulking toward me with measured steps. Poor fool. He was still terrified, his emotions painting him in vivid hues that betrayed his attempt at composure. Clearly, he’d been summoned by the guard over the radio, though it was evident he’d rather be anywhere else.

 

      I pivoted to face him fully. “Tell me,” I began, my voice smooth but edged with menace. “Including tonight’s ticket sales and the staff, how many people are in this circus?” I arched a brow, letting my tone carry the weight of inevitability. “Don’t lie. I’ll know.”

 

      The bouncer froze, his expression muddled with confusion. After a moment, he fumbled for a slip of paper from his pocket, scanning its contents nervously. Finally, his trembling voice answered, “There are a total of... four hundred and forty-eight people here, sir.”

 

      “Good boy,” I said, flashing him a cold smile before turning my attention back to the guard, who had drawn his stun gun. He was already within the radius of my Red Mist, so with a deliberate pulse of energy, I made the mist surge upward, enveloping him entirely.

 

      His screams filled the tent, but they were short-lived. The mist pulsated once more before dissipating into a fine, crimson haze, revealing a tiny piglet trembling on the ground where the guard had stood. The transformation was complete, and entirely unremarkable—just as he deserved. No artistry, no flourish, just a small, mundane pig. Hardly worth the effort of something more elaborate.

 

      “There are four hundred and forty-seven people in here now,” I said flatly, glancing back at the bouncer.

 

      He stood rooted in place, staring wide-eyed at the squealing pig. “I told you,” I added with a wicked grin, “I’m not here to watch the show. I’m here to make the show."

 

      The bouncer wasted no time, stumbling backward with a scream before breaking into a full retreat. Not that it mattered. With the Red Mist sealing the circus, he wouldn’t get far.

 

      Four hundred and forty-seven people—too many witnesses for me to handle alone. I would need reinforcements.

 

      As the Red Mist continued to spread throughout the circus, I reached into my pocket and retrieved Adam, Banjo, and Moto. Focusing my energy, I created a dense, swirling cloud of mist around a nearby ringmaster’s podium, then tossed the three of them into the shrouded space.

 

      “You belong to me now,” I declared, my voice cutting through the crimson haze. “I’ll shape you however I see fit.”

 

      Their bodies began to shift and contort, growing grotesque and disproportionate. I had no specific design in mind—just that they should be heavy, large and strong enough to restrain a human with ease. Creativity took over as I worked, twisting them into forms that would be fitting for the main attraction of a circus. After all, I had a show to put on.

 

      When the transformation was complete, the mist dissipated, revealing three monstrous figures stationed near the podium. They stood frozen for a moment, staring at one another with wide, horrified eyes. Then, one by one, they began to inspect their new forms, their hands tracing along bizarre limbs and features.

 

      “You look terrible!” Moto blurted out, gesturing at his companions.

 

      “Me?” Banjo retorted, pointing an oversized, misshapen finger at Moto. “You’re the ugly one!”

 

      “What did you do to us?!” Adam shouted, running his stubby hands over his grotesquely enlarged ears.

 

      “Don’t worry... tall, short, thin, fat, freak—I’m open to all kinds,” I said, chuckling darkly.

 

      I shifted my gaze toward Amp, still cowering at the far end of the circus, and then back to my newly crafted freaks, who were still struggling to comprehend their warped bodies. “Your job,” I instructed, my tone sharp, “is to catch our little friend Amp. He’s been running for too long, and I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

 

      They looked at me in horror, their faces twisted in disbelief. Banjo was the first to speak, thrusting his bulky arm in my direction. “Are you crazy?!” he barked, before lowering his arm in defiance. “We’re not helping you capture our friend! No way!”

 

      I sighed and covered my face with one hand, laughing quietly. “What you want doesn’t matter,” I said, removing my hand to reveal a mocking smirk. “I have ways of making you cooperate.” Crossing my arms, I raised an eyebrow. “As for the first thing… maybe you’re right."

 

      Moto’s face turned pale as he grasped at his oversized ears. “He’s telling the truth!” he stammered. “He can control our bodies—force us to do anything!”

 

      Adam collapsed to his knees, his short, stocky legs trembling beneath him. Tears welled in his eyes as he begged, his head shaking fervently. “Please, don’t hurt them! I’ll do anything else you want, just spare them! I swore I’d keep them safe. You can have me forever—I’ll accept that. Just let them go!” His massive ears flapped comically with his movements, adding an absurdity to his desperate plea.

 

      I placed a hand on my chest, feigning sympathy. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said with mock sincerity. “I missed the last part over the sound of my heart breaking.”

 

      Red Mist began to coalesce around the freaks once more, swirling ominously as I prepared to assert my control over their bodies. But before I could proceed, a flicker of movement caught my eye.

 

      A man in the audience had raised his phone, its camera trained directly on me.

 

      “This is a private show, buddy,” I said, narrowing my eyes in his direction.

 

      The man didn’t respond, continuing to record with an unnerving determination.

 

      At that moment, I realized I needed to take control of the situation before it spiraled beyond my grasp.