Cell

The city had long since died—hollow buildings stretched like tombstones beneath a sky choked with ash. The silence was total, save for the distant scrape of something heavy being dragged across concrete.

A slithering voice echoes from the dark ahead.

“I can smell you.”

From the ruins, a twisted figure lurches into view—his body a strange mixture of green skin and black spots, tail twitching with anticipation. Imperfect Cell’s eyes glow dimly, too intelligent for something that moves like a beast.

“I’ve drained entire cities,” he hisses, grin stretching unnaturally wide. “But you… you’re still warm.”