The clinic was quiet.
Not the normal kind of quiet that comes from an empty building at night, but something deeper—controlled, deliberate. The fluorescent lights above hummed softly, casting a pale glow over the stainless steel tables and glass cabinets. Everything was clean, organized, and still.
Too still.
Scott, Allison, and Stiles stood near the entrance, their attention fixed on the center of the room.
On the table—
The body.
Or what was left of it.
It was only half.
The upper torso remained, pale and stretched in a way that didn't look human anymore. Torn flesh marked the point where the body had separated, jagged and uneven, as if it had been ripped apart rather than cut. The skin had an unnatural tone, almost gray under the harsh lighting, and from its back, broken remnants of wings were still visible.
It didn't look like something that had once been human.
It looked like something that had never been meant to exist.
Alan Deaton stood beside the table, his posture calm and composed. He adjusted his gloves with steady hands, studying the corpse with the same focus he gave any other case.
Scott broke the silence first.
"…That's the thing we saw last night."
Deaton nodded once without looking up. "Yes."
Stiles shifted uncomfortably beside him. "Okay, I just want to point out," he said, gesturing toward the body, "that calling that a 'thing' feels like an understatement."
Deaton adjusted his glasses and finally turned slightly toward them. "This creature is called a manananggal."
Stiles blinked. "A mana—what now?"
"Manananggal," Deaton repeated calmly. "It originates from the Philippines."
Allison frowned slightly, her arms crossing as she tried to recall something. "I've heard of that before," she said. "It's part of local folklore, right?"
"Yes," Deaton replied. "But like most folklore, it is based on something real."
Scott's expression tightened. "So what exactly are we dealing with?"
Deaton turned back to the body, placing a hand lightly on the table. "Manananggals are a type of shape-shifting predator," he explained. "They appear human during the day. At night, they transform."
Stiles shook his head slowly. "I don't like where this is going."
Deaton continued anyway. "This specific variant separates its upper body from its lower half."
There was a pause.
Stiles stared at him. "…No."
Deaton remained completely serious. "Yes. The upper half grows wings and becomes capable of flight."
Stiles took a step back. "Nope. I'm rejecting that. That's not a thing."
Scott ignored him, focusing on Deaton. "And it hunts like that?"
Deaton nodded. "Yes. It searches for prey under the cover of darkness."
Allison's voice lowered slightly. "What kind of prey?"
Deaton didn't hesitate. "Pregnant women."
The room fell silent.
The weight of that statement settled heavily between them.
"…That matches the reports," Allison said quietly.
Scott's jaw tightened. "So it's targeting them specifically."
"Yes," Deaton confirmed.
Stiles ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly now. "Okay, so we've got flying half-people hunting pregnant women," he said. "That's already bad. But I'm guessing that's not the only problem."
Scott glanced back at Deaton. "The other victims," he said. "The ones we found earlier… that wasn't the same thing, was it?"
Deaton's expression shifted, becoming more serious.
"No," he said.
A pause.
"From what you described, those victims were not only drained of blood."
Stiles stopped pacing. "…What does that mean?"
Deaton met his gaze directly. "It means they were consumed."
Stiles swallowed. "Consumed how?"
"The internal organs were removed," Deaton said evenly. "Eaten."
He gestured slightly, clinical in his explanation. "Soft tissue first. Intestines. Liver. Heart."
Stiles turned away immediately. "Yeah—no. Nope. I'm done. I don't need that level of detail in my life."
Allison exhaled slowly, steadying herself. "So we're dealing with more than one creature."
"Yes," Deaton said. "Different types, same origin."
Scott's eyes narrowed slightly as he processed it. "An aswang."
Deaton gave a small nod. "Yes."
The word hung in the air for a moment.
Scott turned toward the door, his expression set. "Then we stop it."
Allison followed without hesitation. "Before it kills again."
Stiles groaned, but moved after them. "Great. Just another completely normal night in Beacon Hills."
Night had fully settled over the town.
The streets were mostly empty, lit only by scattered streetlights that flickered faintly in the distance. A cool wind moved through the area, rustling leaves and carrying with it a quiet that felt unnatural.
Scott walked ahead, his senses focused and alert. Every sound, every movement in the dark caught his attention.
Allison stayed close beside him, her posture steady, eyes scanning their surroundings with calm precision.
Behind them, Stiles filled the silence.
"So just to recap," he said, gesturing as he spoke, "we are currently hunting flying torso monsters and organ-eating creatures."
He pointed at Scott. "You're the muscle."
Then at Allison. "You're the accuracy."
Then at himself. "And I am the guy who questions why we're still alive."
Scott didn't slow down. "Focus."
"I am focused," Stiles shot back. "I'm focused on not dying."
"All you're doing is talking," Allison said.
"That is how I process fear," Stiles replied. "It's healthy."
Scott suddenly stopped.
Mid-step.
His head tilted slightly.
"…Wait."
Allison immediately tensed. "What is it?"
Scott narrowed his eyes, listening carefully. "…Did you hear that?"
At first Nothing. Then A faint sound.
Scratching.
Movement.
Close.
Very close.
Stiles turned slowly. "…Yeah," he said. "I heard that."
From the shadows, two black cats stepped into view.
They were still.
Watching.
Their eyes reflected the dim light, glowing faintly in the dark.
Stiles blinked, letting out a breath. "…Oh. Okay. Cats. That's fine. Totally normal. I can handle—"
The cats moved.
Too fast.
Their bodies twisted unnaturally, stretching as bones cracked and shifted. Fur receded as skin pulled tight, reshaping into something humanoid—but wrong. Limbs elongated, claws forming where paws had been.
Within seconds—
They weren't cats anymore.
They were something else entirely.
"OH COME ON!" Stiles shouted.
The creatures lunged.
Straight at Scott.
He reacted instantly, golden eyes flaring as he stepped forward instead of back. The first attack came fast—he dodged it, twisting his body just enough to avoid the claws.
The second followed immediately.
He blocked it, his arm catching the strike as claws met resistance mid-air.
The force pushed him back.
Allison moved to the side. "Stiles—cover!"
"I am covering!" Stiles yelled, diving behind a nearby car. "I am covering myself!"
Scott grabbed one of the creatures mid-motion and slammed it into the ground. It screeched, struggling violently as it tried to break free.
The second attacked from the side, claws slicing across Scott's arm.
He growled, spinning into the movement and striking back hard enough to stagger it.
Allison scanned quickly, grabbing a loose metal rod from the ground. "Scott!"
She threw it.
It hit the creature's shoulder, throwing off its balance.
Scott didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, tackling it as both crashed into the pavement.
The first creature recovered faster than expected, leaping again.
Scott turned just in time to block, but the impact forced him backward, his feet sliding across the ground.
The pressure built. They were fast. Relentless.
Stiles peeked over the car. "Scott! You're doing great! Please don't die!"
"Not helping!" Scott snapped.
The creatures attacked together now, coordinating their movements. Scott moved on instinct—blocking, dodging, striking back when he could.
His breathing grew heavier.
But his movements stayed sharp.
Focused.
Then An opening. Small, but enough.
He grabbed one by the throat and drove it into the ground with force, the impact cracking the pavement beneath it.
It didn't move.
The second hesitated.
Just for a second.
That was all he needed.
Scott surged forward, claws flashing as he drove it down and pinned it.
Silence followed.
Heavy breathing filled the space.
Allison stepped closer. "…Scott?"
He didn't respond immediately.
Then "…They're down."
Stiles slowly stood, looking at the bodies, then at Scott, then back again.
"…I hate this town," he said. "I really, really hate this town."
Allison exhaled. "We need to move. There could be more."
Scott stood fully, wiping blood from his arm as his eyes scanned the darkness.
"…No."
He shook his head slightly.
"This isn't over."
Stiles groaned. "Of course it's not."
Allison looked up. "The manananggal…"
Scott followed her gaze.
"…is still out there."
A quiet pause Then The wind shifted.
Cold.
Subtle.
And above them Something moved A shadow passed overhead.
Large.
Winged.
Watching.
Waiting.
Stiles slowly looked up. "…Tell me you saw that."
Scott didn't answer.
His eyes were already locked onto the sky.
Glowing, Focused and Ready.
Because this time There was no uncertainty. The real hunt Had just begun.