JUDGEMENT OF THE WILD

"One monster at a time," San repeated under his breath, the words tasting like iron on his tongue.

The coffee between them had gone cold, a thin layer of film curdling at the top. Leo watched him carefully, the easy grin fading into something quieter, almost wary. The way he always looked when San's mind drifted too close to the edge.

"You know," Leo said, swirling the dregs of his drink, "most people wouldn't voluntarily spend their lives staring into the abyss."

San's eyes, dark and burning, flicked up to meet his friend's. "That's because most people are cowards. They'd rather pretend the abyss isn't there, that they can't feel it breathing down their necks." He leaned forward, voice low and sharp. "I'm not like them. I don't blink. I stare it down until it flinches."

Leo raised an eyebrow. "And when it doesn't?"

San's lips curled into a thin, humorless smile. "Then I burn it."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken things filling the space between them. Outside, the rain began to fall in sheets, drowning the world in cold, grey static.

Leo finally broke the silence, his voice lighter but no less pointed. "You've got that look again."

"What look?"

"The one you get before you do something really fucking stupid."

San chuckled darkly. "You're going to have to be more specific."

Leo jabbed a finger toward the case file. "You think this werebeast case is simple, don't you? Like it's just another asshole using power to get away with murder. But it's never simple. It's always messier than you think."

San's hand tightened around the edge of the table, the wood creaking under the pressure. "Justice is messy, Leo. It's not about balance. It's not some neat equation where right and wrong cancel each other out."

Leo tilted his head, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You quoting Rawls or making shit up as you go?"

San shook his head. "Forget Rawls. Forget Kant. Justice isn't a social contract or a categorical imperative. It's a fucking war. And I'm not here to make peace. I'm here to win."

Leo whistled low. "You sound like Nietzsche's wet dream. The whole 'will to power' thing. You're gonna end up like Zarathustra, man. Alone on a mountain, screaming at the world."

San's voice dropped, razor-sharp and unrelenting. "Better to be the one screaming than the one silenced."

Leo stared at him for a beat, then laughed, shaking his head. "Goddamn, you're a scary son of a bitch."

"Good."

The rain hammered harder, the storm outside a perfect reflection of the storm inside San's head. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a crumpled slip of paper. A name. An address.

Leo caught the movement, his grin fading. "What's that?"

"Information."

"On who?"

San's jaw set like stone. "Drakar Salin. I want to know everything who he works for, what circles he runs in, what kind of deals he's made."

Leo frowned. "This isn't just about the trial, is it?"

San didn't answer right away. His fingers traced the edges of the paper, a cold fire burning in his chest. "It's never just about the trial. The law is a weapon, Leo. But it's not my only one."

"Careful," Leo warned. "You start thinking like that, you're gonna blur the lines between justice and vengeance."

San's eyes flickered with something dark and unnamable. "The lines were never there to begin with."

---

The apartment complex at 42 Blackthorn Street was a crumbling monument to neglect. Rusted balconies sagged under the weight of rain, and the scent of mildew clung to the air like a curse. San moved through the shadows with a predator's grace, his footsteps silent on the cracked pavement.

Inside, the halls were dim and narrow, the kind of place where secrets bled into the walls. He found Salin's door—202—and knocked once, twice, his fist a sharp, deliberate warning.

No answer.

San sighed, already tired of the game. He pressed his palm flat against the door. A subtle vibration, barely perceptible, thrummed against his skin. A heartbeat. Slow. Steady. Salin was home.

"You've got three seconds to open this door," San called out, his voice cold and precise.

Nothing.

He smirked. "Fine. Have it your way."

With a sharp twist of his wrist, he drew a small, flat blade from his sleeve a lockpick shaped like a scalpel. The door clicked open a moment later, swinging inward with a groan.

The room was dark, but San could see clearly enough. The smell hit him first.....wet fur, old blood, the sour stench of fear. A low growl rumbled from the corner, and he turned, eyes narrowing.

Salin was half-shifted, his claws glinting in the dim light, his eyes feral and yellow. His breathing was heavy, labored.

"You've got guts, coming here," Salin snarled, his voice a guttural rasp.

San stepped inside, unflinching. "I'm not the one bleeding."

Salin's eyes flicked to his own arm, where a deep gash oozed dark, viscous blood. He growled again, the sound vibrating through the floor.

"Careful," San murmured. "You don't want to make a mess you can't clean up."

Salin's lips curled back, revealing sharp teeth. "What do you want?"

"I want the truth." San's voice was ice. "You attacked an innocent man. You're going to pay for it. But before you do, I want to know who pulled your strings."

"No one pulls my strings."

"Bullshit." San's eyes burned. "You're a tool. A weapon someone else pointed. Tell me who."

Salin lunged, claws slashing through the air.

San moved like smoke, slipping beneath the strike and driving his elbow into Salin's ribs. The beast-man howled, staggering back.

"You're sloppy," San hissed. "You fight like a dog off its leash."

Salin snarled, but his eyes flicked with something close to fear. "You don't understand!!!"

"I understand perfectly." San's voice was a blade, sharp and cutting. "You're a monster pretending to be a man. And men like me… we don't let monsters walk free."

Salin's breathing was ragged, his form shifting uncontrollably. "You think you're better than me? You think your law makes you clean?"

San leaned in, his eyes twin pits of darkness. "The law doesn't make me clean. It makes me dangerous."

The silence between them stretched like a noose.

"You're going to tell me everything," San whispered. "Or I'll make sure the abyss swallows you whole."

Salin stared at him, his beast-heart hammering against his chest. And for the first time in a long, long time, he felt something other than rage.

He felt fear.