Blood of Gato

"You're just like me!" the psychopath shouted, his voice infused with wild, almost animalistic delight. His eyes, like two glowing coals, flared brighter, and before William could break free, the maniac yanked him closer and struck him in the jaw with a powerful knee.

The pain was icy and sharp; it felt as if a bone had cracked, and the world swam before his eyes. A ringing filled his ears, and he tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. But the Heart-Eater didn't let go; his fingers dug into William's wrists like steel handcuffs, preventing any movement. He began to rain down blows—ribs, face, stomach—each hit landing like a gunshot, like a hammer. William's world narrowed to flashes of pain and heavy wheezing.

"Damn… this… bastard… is stronger…" flashed through William's mind as another blow knocked the air from his lungs. If an ordinary person were in his place, they would have choked on their own blood or at least lost consciousness by now. But William gritted his teeth, trying not to scream.

"Now I see why my first hit didn't break your spine!" the Heart-Eater cackled, clearly relishing the moment. His face twisted with ecstatic madness as he derived pleasure from discovering how tough his opponent was. "Come on, hold on!" he shouted joyfully, putting all his inhuman strength into the next blow.

William felt a rib dangerously crack under the pressure, but overcoming the agony, he snarled and, deftly twisting, struck back with his clawed hand, tearing the psychopath's lip open. The Heart-Eater choked on a wheezing laugh, nearly choking on his own blood.

"I'll gut you, you bastard!" William rasped, gathering his strength and suddenly yanking the maniac toward him. Their foreheads collided with a dull crack, blood spraying from the Heart-Eater's broken nose. He didn't release his grip but hesitated, and William seized the opportunity. Channeling all his rage, he struck the psycho hard in the groin with his knee.

The maniac howled, releasing his grip and doubling over. Even the most hardened individuals aren't ready to endure such pain.

"Ow, ha-ha!" the Heart-Eater wheezed through his groans, bouncing in place while clutching his groin. "Who hits like that, huh?"

"You may be a maniac, but your balls are still quite human," William retorted, wiping blood from his lips and stepping forward. He swung his leg, but the psycho, despite his pain, deftly dodged, jumped, and delivered a crushing blow to William's chest. William flew backward, crashing onto the concrete floor, struggling to catch his breath.

"On top of that, you're pinning your murders on me?" the Heart-Eater snorted, approaching and kicking the fallen William. "Not a chance, buddy! I won't be your scapegoat for the cops!"

"What do you care?" William spat blood, searching for a moment to strike. "You're slicing people up almost every night—what's one more body to you?"

He kicked the maniac sharply in the leg, knocking him off balance. The Heart-Eater staggered and fell directly onto William, who immediately tightened his clawed fingers around his neck. The claws dug into his skin, leaving bloody grooves ready to tear his throat apart at any moment.

The Heart-Eater gripped William's wrists, preventing the claws from sinking deeper. Their faces were so close that William could feel his enemy's heavy breathing.

"Here's the thing, bro," the psycho rasped, grinning through pain and blood, "I don't kill like you do. Everyone should have standards, you get it? Even guys like us!"

"I don't give a damn about your pathetic standards!" William snarled, tensing his muscles to break through the defenses.

"You're just… inexperienced for now," the Heart-Eater said laboriously, a strange, painful smile stretching across his lips. "Don't worry, I'll teach you… everything I know. And who knows, you might even find your own style!" He suddenly beamed with pride, as if possessed, and attempted to free himself again. Their struggle grew increasingly desperate, each inch of space between them soaked in malice, pain, and an unquenchable desire to survive.

"Why don't you just… die already and let me start living like a human!" William rasped through clenched teeth. His claws sank into the maniac's neck, blood streaming down his fingers, hot and sticky. "I promise, I'll even bury you! Right here, under the stairs."

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I haven't even finished watching 'Mighty Morphin Power Rangers,'" the Heart-Eater wheezed with a raspy humor, feeling the cold grip of death creeping up his throat. But fear only fueled him, and he poured all his bestial strength into his grip, squeezing William's wrists until they began to crack.

The pain was sharp, as if his fingers were crushing not bones but fragile glass. William screamed, the sound echoing in the hollow hallway. The Heart-Eater broke free and, not giving his opponent a moment to recover, unleashed a flurry of quick punches to William's jaw. Blood sprayed from William's split lip, his head spun, and colorful circles danced in his vision.

"Relax," the maniac exhaled with a predatory grin, "even guys like us need an hour to heal a broken bone!" Now his cold, sinewy fingers tightened around William's throat, and he gasped for air, struggling like a fish thrown ashore. A buzzing filled his ears, darkness encroached, and foam dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"Don't worry, brother…" The psycho's voice became surprisingly soft, almost sympathetic, but his grip only tightened. "I won't kill you. No, no, we're colleagues now. You know, I actually like you… We're cut from the same cloth," he whispered, savoring the slow fading of William's gaze.

William's fingers trembled, losing sensation—just a little longer, and it would all be over. But suddenly, he felt a familiar, searing warmth within him: his body was regenerating. Broken bones mended, muscles filled with strength. William snapped back to reality and, almost instinctively, drove his claws into the psychopath's sides, tearing through his sweater and flesh as if it were paper.

"Aah!" the Heart-Eater screamed, a hoarse wail escaping his throat. He recoiled, looking down—William's claws had pierced his skin, digging deep, almost to his insides.

"No! Damn it, pull them out!" he gasped, his voice trembling between command and panic. Saliva dripped down his mask, his breathing became ragged and erratic. But despite the pain, the maniac didn't loosen his grip. Now they both dangled on the edge, each trying to squeeze harder, each waiting for the other to give in first.

For a moment, a strange pause settled over their struggle. Heavy, muffled breaths filled the air, and the sharp scent of blood and sweat hung between them. Then, amid the madness, the Heart-Eater said, "Listen, if someone comes out of the apartment right now, they might think the wrong thing…" he rasped, his voice almost bashful. "Look at us: two guys, one on top of the other, hands everywhere… They will think we are lovers!"

Despite the agony, William struggled to suppress a nervous laugh. The psycho seemed to have completely lost touch with reality, but there was an absurd truth in his words.

"No, seriously," the Heart-Eater continued, "two guys, one choking the other, the other hugging back… If someone peeks in from the stairs right now, no one would believe us!"

William's claws dug deeper into the wounds, making the maniac cough. "Listen, how about this… Let's count to three and let each other go, okay?" the Heart-Eater pleaded. His voice trembled with pain and humiliation. "Nod if you agree," he added quickly, nearly in tears.

William gritted his teeth, weighed his options, and realizing he wouldn't last much longer, reluctantly nodded. They both froze, looking into each other's eyes, and began to count together: "One… two… three!"

Their hands released simultaneously, and both collapsed heavily onto the dirty hallway floor, gasping for air. William coughed and felt his neck; it burned and cracked, but fortunately, it wasn't broken.

"Cough, cough… My damn neck," he groaned, struggling to catch his breath.

The Heart-Eater grimaced in pain as he removed his torn sweater to staunch the bleeding, biting his teeth as he tightly wrapped it around his shredded side.

"Ah, damn, you ripped my rib apart…" he moaned, his voice rising in pitch. "Do you even know how unpleasant that is?!"

"Want to swap stories?" William shot back venomously, displaying his battered knuckles and blood-soaked palm. "You almost twisted my neck off, psycho."

They fell silent, unsure of what to do next. Neither felt like a winner. Behind them lay a long, bloody trail of actions devoid of doubt or regret. But something had changed; they found themselves on the same front line—both losers and weary, neither wanting to continue this pointless fight.

The moment passed, along with the urge to finish each other off.

"What was it you said… two lovebirds?" William scoffed, unexpectedly laughing. His laughter was nervous, almost hysterical, but infectious. The Heart-Eater didn't hold back, shaking with laughter as if he hadn't laughed in years.

"Ha-ha, yeah, we really got ourselves into it… By the way, how did you even use your hands? I thought I broke them!" the Heart-Eater asked with genuine surprise and a childlike joy, holding his bleeding side.

"They healed, that's all," William replied tersely, even coldly, but couldn't resist defiantly showing his hands, fingers bending easily, the skin glistening with blood but no sign of fractures.

"What? No way… Let me see!" The maniac leaned closer, but William quickly pulled his hands back, glaring and hissing, "Get away from me!"

He slapped the maniac's hand lightly but with obvious irritation. The Heart-Eater pulled back, pouting like a child caught in mischief.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure…" he mumbled, rubbing his elbows. "Regeneration isn't usually that quick."

William studied him closely, noticing that the wounds on the maniac's body were healing slowly, edges still red and blood pooling in heavy drops.

"Isn't it the same for you?" William asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"My fractures take hours to heal… and if it's something serious, weeks," he sighed, a mix of envy, fear, and involuntary respect in his voice. "And you, it's just… snap, and you're good as new."

For a moment, William pondered, feeling a strange mix of pride and alienation. "Am I really an anomaly, even among monsters?" flashed through his mind.

"Well, what now? Are we going to keep trying to rip each other's throats out? Or maybe you'll suggest an alternative?" the Heart-Eater asked with unexpected lightness, clapping his hands. His eyes sparkled mischievously as if proposing to play some childish game.

William considered it. He didn't want any more bloodshed. Maybe it was worth trying to talk?

"Take off your mask. Then we can talk," he said firmly. He was tired of guessing who he was dealing with. Since this psycho had seen his face, it was only fair to see his.

The Heart-Eater smirked, tilting his head to the side.

"What, you want to see the face of your idol?" he teased, poking a finger at a hole in his pants.

"No, I want to see how ugly you must be to wear that," William retorted, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

"Funny! You're copying my style and cracking jokes," the maniac grumbled, but his hands were already reaching for the ties of his mask. "Well, hold on, you're about to see a face worth a million…"

But then, sharp sirens erupted, first faintly in the distance, then growing louder, closer… The light from flashing beacons burst through the window, accompanied by voices and the heavy thud of boots on the stairs.

"Damn it, the cops!" William exclaimed, darting to the window. Through the grimy glass, he saw police swarming the building like ants on sugar.

"Good luck to you, but I've got to go!" The Heart-Eater was already hopping on one leg, grabbing his weapon from the floor.

"See you, bro!" he shouted as he leaped into the night, disappearing over the edge of the window.

"Shit…" William grimaced, glancing back at the door where heavy footsteps could be heard. Without thinking, he followed his strange companion, dissolving into the darkness of the city.

******

Holding his wounds and limping, the Heart-Eater cheerfully sang a children's song as he walked away:

"In the forest, on a moonlit night,

Two wolves whisper with delight.

We, my friend, are bound forever,

Together we'll cut and tear, however!

In our paws, the bones we claim;

In our jaws, the fat, our game.

Fat little pigs, beware the night—

The wolves are out, ready to bite!

Stars grow dim; it's not time for rest,

Our friendship's forged, we're truly blessed.

Together we stand, our claws so keen,

For the pigs, we weave their dreams unseen…"

Each step sent pain through his side, but it only fueled his cheerful spirit, as if with every drop of blood from his wound, his anxiety drained away. The Heart-Eater, satisfied, swung his arms, swaying slightly. When the path led him to a clearing, he paused under the light of the full moon.

Removing his mask, he wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve, his beard tousled and his dark blonde hair a wild mess. He lifted his gaze to the sky, fell silent for a moment, and then, breaking into a bloody smile, quietly said, "I love you, Doctor Ava. I've found a friend, and Mom will be so glad when I tell her!"

With these words, he began to sing the rhyme again, shuffling his shoes through the damp grass. Swaying gently, he disappeared between the trees, heading home to his mother and a newfound feeling of happiness.