Collateral Damage

After two long minutes, the two opponents were at a stalemate. The winged creature couldn't free itself from the strong arms of the strange man, while he couldn't completely immobilize it either, as it was too large and strong. Kowalsk realized it was time to take action, or he might soon become part of the diet of that voracious creature, which squawked, roared, and tried desperately to squeeze its massive body into the room.

Kowalsk quickly searched for something and soon found it. When he pressed the button, what he hoped for happened: a second thick metal door began to descend, pinning the creature's neck to the ground until it was completely trapped. Kowalsk smiled; he had never had the opportunity to attack one of these "critters" while they were so defenseless. This was just a small advantage for them, as Kowalsk also knew how strong and resilient that hunting creature was, and even while trapped, it wouldn't succumb easily.

He was astonished to see that the twisted and disfigured man continued to hold the beast by the neck and pummel it mercilessly.

"Sorry to interrupt, friend. I know you seem quite strong, but I don't think you can kill that thing with just punches."

"Wanna bet?" the man asked, abruptly stopping his assault and seeming to analyze the creature, searching for a possible weak point. He prepared his hand for a strike, as if that would solve the problem, and before Kowalsk could say anything else, the strange man struck the creature's neck with a blow accompanied by a loud crack. The beast howled in pain, then convulsed as if dying, ceasing all movements afterward.

Still in disbelief, Kowalsk was about to congratulate the big and strange fighter, but he was taken aback to see that the man's hand was crushed and completely unusable.

"Are you okay, my friend? What happened to your hand?" Kowalsk asked, showing genuine concern.

"Don't worry, soldier. It's just a small collateral damage, but it will be fixed soon," the stranger replied, seeming to pay little attention to the fact that he was now crippled for life, whether it be short or long.

"If you say so, friend. If that's how it is, then it's fine," Kowalsk said, agreeing but not believing for a moment that it was merely collateral damage. It seemed like an irreparable loss. He stood there for a few minutes, watching the scene, unable to understand what had happened.

The winged creature occasionally convulsed in spasms, while the strange man remained motionless, as if waiting for the beast to suddenly revive. This didn't happen, much to Kowalsk's relief, who still struggled to believe someone could defeat that creature with bare hands.

"I'm seeing all this, I know it happened, but I still can't process it. So I ask again, who or what are you? And this time, please tell me only the truth."

The strange man seemed not to fully understand Kowalsk's question, taking a few more seconds to connect the sentence entirely. Finally, he responded, "I'm nothing of a 'what.' I may not look like it, but I am just a person like you... Or almost."

"Are you sure?" Kowalsk asked, approaching slowly.

"Yes, I'm sure of that," the stranger replied, hesitating before asking, "But what do I look like to you?"

Kowalsk usually answered his interlocutors quickly, regardless of the topic. Just a few minutes ago, he had given a description of the apparent motor and mental incapacity of the man, but he had been terribly wrong. The guy might not be a model of a virtuous homo sapiens, but to face such a huge beast with bare hands... that was superhero stuff.

This question, asked after everything he had witnessed, left him hesitant to respond. After all, if the stranger got angry with his answer and attacked him, how could he defeat someone who had defeated a winged beast with his own hands? Then Kowalsk remembered that one of the stranger's hands had been crushed in the fight. This could be a significant advantage for Kowalsk if he needed to fight the man.

"Sorry, friend, but to me, you look more like an alien, with your disfigured face, those bulging eyes, and that grill in your mouth. Not to mention your crushed hand, and you don't seem to care about it at all. So say what you want, but to me, you came from space, am I right?"

The stranger fixed his gaze on Kowalsk, who instinctively assumed a fighting stance.

"What are you doing, old soldier?"

"Preparing to fight you," Kowalsk replied, already warming up.

"And why would I do that? Besides, I'm without one of my hands, old soldier. And I didn't come from space; I came from a military lab. So I'm as much a soldier as you are, with just one difference: my training had collateral damage, and yours didn't."

That was an answer Kowalsk had never expected to hear, but at least now that bizarre appearance made some sense.

"I'm sorry for judging you prematurely. My name is Kowalsk. And yours, partner?"

"Piotr Nicolas Vidoviski or Gareno, if you prefer. By the way, welcome to my quarters. But before anything else, let's clean up this mess, because we have a lot to talk about."