The Last Chance for a Cyborg Werewolf - OneAgileCat (2024)

Chapter 1: A Step Back

Chapter Text

It was everything he could do to not make any noise as he frantically gathered all the documents they had. He had to take every paper copy, every note, every tangentially related scrape of research. He glanced back at the main computer, watching the other man frantically work to delete as much as he could. His progress was unknown, but he didn't look anywhere near done. They needed more time. There were still notes unaccounted for. If even a piece was left behind, even a fraction, it could be replicated. The technology they'd worked so hard to achieve. It was bad enough that the results had been submitted, no doubt backed up in other locations of the lab if not her own personal computer, but if he could at least recover or destroy the schematics and research data, that would be enough. It had to be enough. This couldn't continue, and just as he had stuffed the last of the papers into his bag, he realized they had nearly forgotten the most important part. The device itself, still resting in its cradle. As he ran his hand through his thinning hair, the sweat on his forehead dripping down his nose, he felt the pain and grief hit him once more.

"How?" Mercer uttered softly, "how could we have been so naive?" He glanced back at the main computer, Ichimonji still methodically wiping every file, and so Mercer knew that now was their last chance. He approached the Assembler's dock and entered his access card into the reader, followed by his access code to release the security clamps that held it in place.

"Error," it read.

"Impossible," Mercer uttered. Panic began to set in. He typed his code again, on the off chance he had mistyped, but the same error repeated. "I'm locked out!"

"But how?" Ichimonji asked. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his own key card, tossing it to Mercer, who plucked it out of the air and inserted it as Ichimonji gave his code: "One nine seven one." Mercer typed it in, and again the message repeated.

"No," he uttered. There was only one explanation for why their codes would be invalid, and the sound of a motorized wheelchair confirmed his worst fears. Mercer turned towards the direction of the sound just as Ichimonji looked up.

"Stop what you're doing, Dr. Ray," Geoffrey said as he wheeled in from the adjacent lab. He wore a stoic expression as his colleague stood in front of the Assembler as if to guard it from the infirm man.

"This has to end, Geoffrey," Ichimonji said calmly. "The project is not what you think it is."

"Step away from the Assembler," Geoffrey replied. "If you stop what you're doing now we can still-"

"It's all a sham, Geoffrey!" Mercer cut him off, "surely you must see that? The creatures, the samples, the research... they're being grown in these very walls!"

"You have to believe us," Ichimonji pleaded, "we have to get rid of it. All of it. Whatever they're trying to do... it threatens all of humanity."

"Cease your efforts," was Geoffrey's only response, "and give me the data." A moment later two guards, both armed, flanked Alabaster in the threshold of the doorway. Ichimonji raised his hands, stopping the deletion, but it was now that Mercer finally understood. He backed away as he likewise put his hands up, using the Assembler's base as a cover. Ichimonji began to show fear as the guns pointed at them, but he didn't move.

"Geoffrey," Mercer uttered, "why? Why are you betraying us?"

"Betray you?" He replied. "I'm not the one destroying our legacy we worked so hard to build. I chose to confront you now, myself, rather than alert Miss Wintergreen. I was hoping you would see reason-"

"Reason?" Mercer was aghast. There was so much to process, so much that was becoming clear. Mercer could no longer contain his anger. "Where is the reason in this... this... conspiracy!? Celestial has been creating these creatures, murdering innocent people, and for what? How could you? How could you aim guns at your own friends?"

"We are not friends," Geoffrey said coldly, "you are simply my colleagues. That is where you always struggled, Dr. Ray. We cannot let our personal feelings stymie our pursuit of answers."

"Personal feelings?" Ichimonji chuckled, "you mean the feelings of morality? Of justice?"

"Morality is a chain!" Alabaster barked, "a prong collar digging into our necks, making us flinch the moment we even approach the limits of our potential. The adversity against these creatures has produced immeasurable breakthroughs. We are so close to our zenith, what does it matter if the conflict was manufactured?"

"How can you play with life so carelessly?" Ichimonji glanced at his computer. Mercer could see in the reflection of his glasses the final prompt to complete the full system deletion, it would only take the push of a button. Mercer had the notes in the bag, and the Assembler was in his reach. Yet the guards' weapons were trained on them. Mercer glanced down at the device. If he could just get it from beneath its two clamps he could easily defeat the guards and run. He looked back at Ichimonji who glanced down. Mercer followed his eyes to the base of the dock's platform and saw a fire extinguisher, then looked back up to see Ichimonji nod subtly. Mercer's expression turned to horror as he realized what was being proposed, and shook his head slightly, urging his friend to reconsider.

"I'm sorry," Ichimonji uttered. He then brought his hands down, pushing the enter key and completing the deletion, just as the guards fired. He was gunned down, Mercer watching in horror as his friend fell to the ground behind the computer, only to duck and grab the extinguisher. He raised the canister up and slammed it into one of the locks, smashing it, which allowed him to wrench the Assembler free just as the guns turned on him. Bullets tore into his flesh as he fell behind the podium, and the lab fell silent.

"No," Geoffrey uttered, solemnly shaking his head, "I'm sorry." He nodded to the guards, and they moved towards the bodies. Mercer wasn't visible behind the base, but just as they approached they heard the sound of something small and metallic hitting the floor. Then another, and another, and one rolled out into view. It was a bullet.

Mercer burst from behind the base, grabbing the guard's gun in his clawed hand, crushing it as he yanked it and the guard holding it away and across the room. The second guard fired, but the bullets were easily deflected by the membrane and hardened armour plates. The feature-obscuring helmet turned to see him with unnatural speed, enough that the guard flinched, and Mercer took the opportunity to grab him by the collar and hurl him into the other. Mercer breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling with each pronounced breath, and after a moment he stammered. He propped himself on one of the desks with one arm, clutching his chest with the other. It was getting hard to see, and his heart pounded irregularly in his ears. He turned to go where Ichimonji stood, and the pain in his chest multiplied tenfold as he rounded the corner to find his friend lying in a pool of his own blood. Mercer looked away, tears blurring his vision as they fell into the helmet's visor, and an incomparable anger overtook him as he turned to Alabaster. The old man sat defiantly in his chair, staring Mercer down as the man in armour loomed over him.

"You realize it, don't you?" The elderly man asked as Mercer approached him, fighting back the pain. Alabaster shook, yet he didn't back away, glaring the doctor down as he looked up at him, "the Assembler still isn't perfect. If you stop our research, the toll on your heart will be too much. You'll never be able to wield this power again."

"I don't plan to," Mercer's voice was guttural and distorted, "I'd rather see our work destroyed than let it become a weapon."

"Really?" Alabaster chuckled, the laugh turning into a hoarse cough as his oxygen machine turned on, "and give up that? You can't tell me you didn't enjoy it. The power, the virility, the boundless potential. Only a fool or a liar would deny it." Alabaster looked at Mercer's transformed state longingly, his faded expression mirrored in the visor's surface, "how I wish it could've been me." Mercer's clawed hands balled into fists as he looked down at the man that he once looked up to. That they looked up to.

"Is that why you betrayed us?" Mercer asked, but he wouldn't get his answer. A moment later more guards arrived from the opposite entrance, and Mercer watched as one held something small in his hands. He yanked off the pin just as Mercer realized what it was, and in a flash he kicked Alabaster's chair backwards, sending it rolling through the door he came through just as the grenade landed Mercer's feet. He dropped onto it, intending to take the blast, but he was a millisecond too slow. The grenade went off, its full destructive force obliterating the entire end of the lab and sending Mercer flying into the wall. The blast caused several chemicals stored in the desks to ignite and burst, sending flames everywhere. The sprinkler system came on, but it was woefully outmatched against the rapid spread of flames. Mercer rose, just as fire surrounded him, and even with the suit on he was forced to raise his arms as the inferno lashed out at him. Through the flames he could see the guards fleeing, heard their cries for reinforcements, but he also heard something else.

"The research!" Alabaster shouted, staring into the fire. Mercer turned to see the bag full of the paper copies engulfed in fire. Alabaster turned his wheelchair into the room, rolling in between the flames. Mercer ignored him, rushing to Ichimonji. He couldn't leave him here. As he knelt next to his friend he moved to pick him up, only for Ichimonji to cough blood as his head was lifted. He was still alive. Mercer tried to pick him up, only for the wounded man to shake his head. He pointed with a trembling hand past Mercer, towards the floor where something sat untouched by the flames. Mercer quickly picked it up before it was engulfed. It was Ichimonji's access card.

"Is this what you want?" Mercer handed him the card, but the dying man pushed his friend's hand back as he weakly shook his head.

"Take... it..." he struggled as more blood came up. "They'll think... it was you." Ichimonji stopped moving, his still open eyes staring off to nowhere. Mercer's own hands trembled as he realized what had happened, and realized his friend's dying wish. He clutched the card in his hand as he gently laid his body down, just as the room began to fall apart. Weakened by the blast, the flames had reached the ceiling. There was no way out through the doors, only the window, and Mercer made a move before stopping.

Alabaster still tried to maneuver his slow chair towards the research notes. The bag was already consumed by flames, there was no hope of saving it, but Mercer could still try and save the elderly man. However the flames were out of control, and he realized too late that Geoffrey's chair was on fire. Right next to his oxygen tank. Mercer gritted his teeth as he turned away, sprinting towards the window just as a second explosion went off behind him, blowing out the windows. He tumbled three stories down through chilled air onto the grass, dimly lit by the flames above and the glow of the moon. The fire raged as sirens echoed in the distance, and Mercer could see staff evacuating on the other end of the building. Mercer took one last look behind, then at the face on the card in his hand, and took off into the darkness.

Chapter 2: Others' Shoes

Chapter Text

Halloween was not a holiday Erin often celebrated. Not since she was a teenager had she ever dressed up, and even then only for parties. Memories of trick-or-treating were long ago, and if she ever carved a pumpkin she couldn't say. Yet as October had begun the city was feeling the season, perhaps in spite of the early snowfall that made it look like Christmas had come early. Erin even found herself in costume, with the most up-close example of Halloween iconography as the glistening teeth of a wolfman was mere inches from her face. Of course they'd be closer were she not holding the jaws back with her own two hands, its putrid breath fogging the tinted visor that separated her eyes from its fangs. Unluckily for Erin, this was no man in a rubber mask that threatened her life, but five hundred pounds of banded muscle, dense bones, and patchwork fur pressing her down into the snowy ground. This distorted likeness of a wolf's face ebullated a guttural snarl from deep within as it pressed towards her, and Erin struggled to keep it at bay. She kicked her feet, her heels sliding in the snow as she tried to worm away to no avail. She tried kicking the fake, but her hits were shallow with no room to build up force. It was looking grim until she felt the fake's maw edging closer, its jaws opening wider in an attempt to fit her whole head in its mouth. Erin felt the tension reverse, and considered that her opening. She pulled her hands apart, hyper-extending the jaws of the fake well beyond their limits. There was a wet crack, a burst of saliva accompanying a shriek as the creature's jaws broke and it stumbled aside. Erin rolled away to the other end of the rooftop, nearly tumbling ten stories down before digging her claws into the metal tiling.

"You need to mind your surroundings," Mercer spoke calmly into her ear.

"I'm trying," Erin groaned, rolling back onto the roof. The fake held its jaw, pulling and snapping it back into place as its superhuman healing already repaired the damage. Erin had seconds to react as it lunged for her again, and it happened again. It had happened both times she had fought, but now it was more vivid. Time seemed to slow, yet she was still moving with it. The fake's attack was swift, yet she could glean every detail, every tiny movement. She saw around herself in detail as well. The metal tiled roof they fought on, just below the gravel roof above where it all started. The buildings to either side. The overpass below. The snow-crusted streets below that. The pure white sky above, and the occasional snowflake drifting down. In between it all was the outstretched claws of the fake inching towards her face. It all seemed to linger, with even light itself blurring.

Erin moved just as razor sharp nails sliced through the air she just occupied. Then another swipe. Deftly, and with hardly a breath to spare, Erin frantically avoided multiple blows with her heightened reflexes. The fake, angered, swung both arms, and she jumped. Leaping high into the air with the grace of an Olympic athlete, only to land on all fours. She spotted a television antenna, plucked it from its mount, and brandished it just in time for the fake spun to attack. Its elongated fingers struck forward as Erin held her weapon, the fingers entwining in the spokes of the antenna. She yanked it, and the fake's arms, to one side as she used its momentum against it, sending it face-first into the concrete wall. Erin caught her breath for the moment as the creature fell limp.

"Innovative," Mercer remarked. "I must say your fighting language is much different from Lucas'."

"Yeah, well," Erin wheezed, "I'm doing my best."

"I said different, not worse," Mercer clarified. "Especially given the abrupt circ*mstance I'd say you're performing quite well, actually. Celestial seems to have gone back to business as usual in light of their setback."

"No kidding," Erin uttered. It had only been two days since the night they destroyed the golems. The night everything changed. They barely had time to take stock before news hit of another unknown animal attack. Of course it was a fake, but something was different. This one appeared during the day, and didn't seem to be one of Celestial's hires. In fact it didn't even say a word since Erin first encountered it on the roof above. She pondered these incongruities briefly before she fell to one knee, heaving.

"Erin, are you alright?" He asked, concern creeping into his tone.

"I'm fine," she said, rasping each painful breath, "just tired and... I get dizzy after moving so fast."

"Your body must still be adjusting your reflexes," the doctor mused. Erin believed it. She had these bouts of heightened abilities that seemed to come with brief moments of disorientation or sudden weakness. Like a burst of adrenaline. Yet these moments seemed fleeting, and varied from a slight sense of vertigo to the laboured breathing she now suffered, but it wasn't long before she managed to compose herself. That just left the fake with its head still buried in the wall.

"Is it dead?" Erin wondered aloud. Fakes usually took a lot more to kill, and this seemed to be the case as the creature began to stir. It was only momentarily stunned, stumbling back as it clutched its head. It seemed to gag, coughing up nothing as it clutched its throat. Something wasn't right.

"Fakes usually only expire one way," Mercer said, "total destruction."

"You mean I have to...?" Erin swallowed the lump in her throat, then brought her claws up. "Right. I understand." Mercer didn't respond. The fake grew more erratic, howling as it stared her down. Its eyes were solid, glowing a sickly yellow-white, like fluorescent bile. Its malformed teeth jutted from its jaw as though it were incapable of closing its mouth properly. Fakes never looked natural, and Erin couldn't imagine being twisted into something like that.

The creature lunged towards her, but Erin was prepared. She dropped low at the last moment, pulled her hand back, and struck with her palm up and claws out. Her fingers plunged through the matted fur and leathery hide, and using its momentum she swung around with her hand anchored to its chest. Erin was behind it now, and grabbed its neck in her other hand. It reared like a mare, teetering on its feet as she gripped its chest and neck, her claws digging deep into the flesh. It was wet, warm, and undulated with every muscle movement. It made her sick. She tried to grit her teeth and pull, intent on ripping it apart. She knew she could. She had the strength. She had the tools. She could end this right now. She closed her eyes. The fake started wheezing again. Its struggling seemed to slow, and it panted like a wounded dog. The noise it made was shrill and rasp, pathetic. It twisted its head back and forth, trying to see her, and Erin saw its eyes pressed closed. This was too much. Erin felt her hand ready to pull, ready to split it in half, and found herself without the strength.

The fake bellowed. It leapt backwards, slamming its back, and Erin, into the wall. Brick and mortar crushed into her, squeezing the air from her lungs. Erin was still latched on, her fingers deep in the creature's hide, and it pulled away even as she limply dangled behind. The impact left her stunned as the beast howled, dropped to all fours and began to run aimlessly, vaulting off the rooftop and into the air. The two fell several stories, tumbling as the monster thrashed and she desperately tried to cling to it, only to slam into the freeway below right in the middle of rush hour. They separated, Erin tumbling into oncoming traffic, and was struck by a truck. This sent her careening into the median, and she fell limp in the snow and ice.

"Erin!" Mercer shouted through the radio, desperation in his tone, "Erin, are you alright? Say something!"

"I'm alive..." she uttered, pulling herself up using the barrier, "I think." Were the situation different Erin would probably marvel at her ability to survive such an ordeal unscathed, but the sounds of horns and howling snapped her attention towards the fake. It stood in the middle of the road, baying and clawing at the cars that zoomed past. She had to intervene before it caused an accident, or worse, sent a car flying off the overpass and into the buildings below. Erin darted into traffic, deftly if barely dodging the oncoming cars, and dropped to all fours to sprint towards the beast. Just as she leapt for it a speeding car clipped her leg mid-stride, sending her spinning and a sharp pain up her leg. The fake reacted, grabbing her midair and slamming her into the concrete. It howled at her, and for reasons she couldn't explain, Erin roared back. She had been kicked around enough, and now she was just angry. She grabbed the beast's arm and dug her claws in, wrenching it free. She punched it across the face, the fake stumbling back, and punched again. And again. Over and over, her fists a blur, the meat of its chest pummeled to pulp as she unleashed her full strength and speed. Finally, the beast staggered, Erin reached for the Assembler. The 'finisher.'

That's when she heard the bus's horn, and just as she turned to see the vehicle bearing down, the fake lashed out. It grabbed Erin before she could push the second switch, trapping her in the bus's path, and Erin could do nothing but pull the beast closer. The bus struck them, slamming into the fake and sending shockwaves through Erin's body. The bus swerved, the fake went flying, and Erin was thrown to the asphalt just as a horrible crash was heard. Erin rolled to her knees, winded and brutalized, just in time to see another car bearing down. She braced herself, heard the screech of brakes, and was relieved when the car stopped just inches from her. This seemed to halt traffic at last, and the threat of motorists seemed to finally end. Erin took a breath, resting her hand on one knee, only to hear screams and cries from three lanes over. It was the bus. It had crashed into the barrier, breaking through, and now teetered on the edge. At any moment it could fall, and as Erin saw the passengers moving about inside she watched it tip. She had to move fast. Despite her exhaustion Erin pushed herself into a sprint, leaping towards the bus and digging her claws into the back and planting her feet into the road. It lurched back, but was still heavy at the front, and Erin felt herself being lifted. She wasn't enough of a counter-weight to bring it back, and so peered into the window at the terrified occupants.

"Everyone!" Erin shouted, her voice strained, "you need to move towards me, but slowly." The passengers looked at her with terror in their eyes, one woman in particular pointing at her.

"That's him!" She said, "that's the serial killer from the news!"

"Oh God," an old man uttered, "please, don't hurt us!"

"You've got it all-" Erin was cut off as the bus began to move. The passengers moving away from her were making it front-heavy, and it began to slide. They started to panic, scream, and Erin's feet lifted off the ground. She moved along the bus' side, digging her claws into the metal like it was tissue, refusing to let go even as it slid. Erin moved to the side that was most on the road, planting her foot against the remains of the barrier, using her own strength to keep it stable.

"Please!" Erin begged, "you have to trust me! I'm here to help!" The passengers seemed unconvinced. She wasn't sure what to do in order to convince them. It wasn't their fault that they didn't know the difference between the many similarly armoured cyborgs running around. They didn't even know she wasn't a 'him,' despite the deepening and distortion the helmet put her voice through. She could take it off, show them her face, but Erin couldn't do that without letting go.

"Wait," one of the passengers, a middle-aged man, uttered as he looked past the crowded bus, "she's telling the truth! This isn't the same guy from the news. This is someone different, this one's trying to help us!" The other occupants exchanged dubious looks, some muttered in fear and confusion, and every second they wasted Erin felt her grip slipping. Yet despite the looks, the panic, the man stepped out from the rest. He walked slowly, carefully, towards the back of the bus. Towards her. The undercarriage groaned as the weight shifted ever so slightly, and as the man reached the end he grabbed onto one of the handrails, turned to the rest of the bus, and extended his hand.

"Come on," he said, "it's safe." Another passenger, and older woman, stepped forward. Her knees shook, either in panic or simply from her age, but she made slow and deliberate steps towards them. The groaning returned, and after a few harrowing moments she joined the man. Then came a teenage boy. Then a young girl and her mother. Then more, each one-by-one, each careful not to rock the bus, and with each one the weight load shifted enough that Erin felt the balance tip her way. Finally there was the driver, and he likewise joined the rest at the back. Finally the bus shifted down. Wheels touched the ground, and Erin summoned her strength. She still had to pull the bus back far enough so it wouldn't fall, lest it cause more damage to the streets below, and so she looked through the broken window.

"Everyone brace yourselves," she said. The passengers complied. Erin heaved, her muscles bulging as she pulled the bus back. She could feel the aluminum body shredding through her fingers if she yanked, and felt her claws grip the internal structure. It was a precarious grip in and of itself, but she didn't let go. This bus wasn't going anywhere but back on solid ground. Erin groaned as she felt her strength tested, already exhausted by the fight and her fall, but pushing herself to keep going. The bus grinded against the pavement as it only had its rear wheels to roll, but inch by inch it moved back, and even when it was out of danger of falling Erin didn't stop. These people would walk off this bus through the door, she would make sure of it, so she kept pulling. Finally the bus was back on the road, the passengers quickly disembarked, and Erin could take a breath. The occupants fled just as she heard distant sirens, while other motorists gathered to see if they could help. The last to leave the bus was the middle-aged man. Erin smiled, even if she knew he couldn't see it.

"Thank you," she said.

"Thank you," he replied. "You've saved me twice now." Erin tilted her head, and this confusion was seemingly understood as the man rubbed his neck bashfully. "I guess you don't remember me... the parking garage, with the man in silver?"

"You were one of the hostages!" Erin realized, snapping her fingers.

"You saved all of us," he continued, "I'd never forget that. The news tried to say you were a criminal, but I told everyone I knew the truth. You saved us, even that poor girl who was turned into one of those things-"

"The fake!" Erin suddenly remembered, then held up her hands as she started to jog away, "stay where you are! Keep everyone back!" The man nodded as she turned to sprint towards where the fake had been thrown. It hadn't attacked her, and she didn't hear screams as it fled. With any luck, slim as it was, it would've died from getting hit by the bus. It wasn't long before Erin saw the cars stopped just ahead, with people out of their vehicles and staring at something on the ground. As she rushed over the people caught sight of her and began to panic, running away as the black and blue monster seemed to charge, but Erin stopped just as she approached the hairy mound in the asphalt.

"Mercer, can you see this?" Erin asked.

"I can," he replied. "It seems unlikely that the impact would've killed it."

"It's not moving, though," she uttered. Something didn't seem right. This fake wasn't behaving like the others she had encountered. It didn't speak, it didn't seem unique in any way, and appeared randomly during the day on a rampage. Erin didn't know what to expect as she approached the body, and watched as it suddenly flinched. She braced herself, waiting for the attack, but the fake didn't rise. It just convulsed, like it was having a seizure, and then it started to sink. Only it wasn't sinking, it looked more like it was deflating. Steam seemed to rise from its body in the cold air, its matted fur fell off in clumps, and there was a horrible wet cracking sound as its limbs and muscles began to contort and shrivel down. The dark, leathery hide turned to wrinkled, pale skin. Thick fur gave way to thinning hair. After a few moments the fake had returned to its human form, and Erin cautiously approached the naked elderly man who now lay in the street. Onlookers had gathered, watching with morbid curiosity as she carefully turned the bruised man over, and recognized his face.

"What the hell..." Erin uttered, but it was one of the attentive bystanders that confirmed the identity.

"Is that-?" A woman asked, "Commissioner Hartwell?"

"The Police Commissioner?" Mercer asked over the radio. "Is he alive?"

"I think so," Erin said. Though it was faint, she could hear his heartbeat and feel the heat of his breath. He was covered in bruises, most likely broken bones as well, but he was alive. Something wasn't adding up. Erin knew the Commissioner, she had interviewed him in the past. She never saw him as anything less than an honest man, let alone one who'd submit themselves to Celestial Biotics' experiments. Erin could hear the sirens getting closer, and looked to the crowd of onlookers.

"Does anyone have a blanket?" She asked. The people flinched, some taking steps back. The surprise and confusion of the Commissioner's transformation had left Erin in the spotlight, and she felt eyes all around her.

"I got one," the man from before walked forward with a blanket. Erin nodded as he put it over the battered and unconscious old man. The sirens were very close now, and there were many, and it was naive to believe there wouldn't be police accompaniment.

"I have to leave," she said. The man didn't respond, but she didn't give him a chance. Erin sprinted towards the edge of the overpass on all fours, bystanders reacting in fear and surprise as she ran past them and leapt towards the building. Erin dug her claws into the brick and scaled the side of it, retreating to the relative seclusion of the rooftops. Once there she waited a moment, listening for the sirens and emergency vehicles they heralded, and peered over the edge.

"Erin, it's not wise to stay," Mercer said.

"I have to know," she said. Erin watched as ambulances, squad cars, and even fire engines arrived. Paramedics went to the injured, officers cordoned off traffic, and her suspicions were confirmed when another vehicle approached. It looked like an ambulance without the livery or lights, but it was far from unmarked. Emblazoned on the doors was Celestial's logo, and the rear doors opened as men in coats arrived and approached the injured Commissioner.

"They certainly didn't waste time," Mercer remarked.

"We need to get in touch with Alex," Erin said as she turned away. "I'm on my way home."

"I'll contact Detective Parker now," Mercer replied, "also you should know they called. They'll be back soon."

"Good," Erin sighed in relief. She continued on her way, having no choice but to leave the Commissioner to his fate.

Chapter 3: Human Nature

Chapter Text

"Jeremiah!" He barked, slamming his fist on the wooden door, "Jeremiah you old sod, get your arse out here!" The men behind him chuckled to each other, amused with the brazenness of their friend. He kept banging his fist on the door, rattling it on its iron hinges, until finally it swung open to reveal the very unhappy face of a bearded man.

"Would you fack off, Fitzpatrick!" He hissed, "you trying to wake the devil 'imself?"

"Wasn't my intent to disturb your wife," he replied, earning more chuckles from the group.

"What do you want?" Jeremiah sighed as he leaned on the door frame.

"Only the grace of your good company," Fitzpatrick removed his hat, holding it with both hands to his chest, "and your kind words of encouragement for the new lad."

"You remember li'le Joseph, yeah?" One of the men held his hands on the shoulders of another. He seemed bashful, a weak smile and averted eyes beneath his tousled hair. "E's been 'ere, what, two seasons? Never even stepped foot in the Sheep's Clothing!"

"Never been, eh?" Jeremiah perked up, now suddenly interested. "Well, this is an emergency, then."

"Wouldn't you say?" Fitzpatrick nodded, stepping towards his friend with feigned sympathy. "Ever since those Northmen took up residence it's been closed to us lowly commoners... but to the owner's second cousin, who could say no?"

"Aye," Jeremiah nodded. He stepped back into his home and grabbed his coat, closing his door behind him. "Truth be told, I've been away from drink too long, myself."

"Then 'tis a night, I think!" Fitzpatrick turned to his fellows, who all seemed equally elated. Jeremiah joined his friends as they headed out into the night, the somewhat reluctant Joseph in tow. They laughed and bantered along the way, with Jeremiah throwing his arm around his friend.

"Not that I don't enjoy thy air," he said, "but is there perhaps another occasion you wish to celebrate at the old hole in the ground?"

"Why must there be ulterior motive?' Fitzpatrick smiled with his remaining teeth, "are we not allowed to find our fleeting happiness is this dingey world?"

"But why not wait for the Northmen to leave?" Jeremiah asked, "word is they depart in a fortnight, and the Sheep will be ours again."

"You've not heard the rumours?" Another of their group, a heavier man known as Blighty asked.

"Aye, the Northmen will soon be gone," Fitzpatrick nodded, "but then we'd miss our opportunity!"

"Oh heavens," Jeremiah groaned, "not that rumour?"

"The Northmen came for the great beast!" Blighty sang, "the curse that's befallen our village since the yesteryear. The one that got old Donovan and his wife, and the Hershal boys!"

"Old Donovan was slain by ale, not a beast," Jeremiah scoffed, crossing himself. "He loved his drink more than his poor Mrs, God rest her soul. She couldn't bear the tragedy."

"Then where was the body?" Fitzpatrick asked.

"Down the stream," Jeremiah said, "you know how Donovan loved his late night river walks, and he was fool enough to stumble into the river sober. His wife probably went in after him, tragic may it be." He punctuated the sentence with another cross.

"A convenient story," Blighty sneered, "but what of the Hershal triplets?"

"Debts, Blighty," Jeremiah pointed out, "the Hershal boys couldn't manage money any more than they could manage a farm. That's why their crops withered, and that's why they forfeited and had to move West."

"Come to think of it," Fitzpatrick tapped his chin, "I think you now live on their old stead, Joseph."

"I wouldn't know much about that, sir," Joseph shrugged sheepishly.

"Come now," Fitzpatrick bumped the young man with his elbow, "why so formal? You're with fellows, young Joseph!"

"Fellows who are about to get stinkin' drunk!" Blighty threw his arms around the two. They all enjoyed a hearty laugh as they sauntered through the village, towards the Sheep's Clothing. The massive wooden mead hall was the third largest single building behind the church and the butcher's slaughterhouse, and was normally alive with the townsfolk. Light and ambient mirth seeped from its windows, but few locals were inside. So exclusive was this place in recent months that two large men, unashamed of their battle axes, stood guard outside in order to dissuade uninvited guests. These men saw the group stumbling towards the hall a mile away, and trained heavy glares on them as Jeremiah stepped forward.

"Ho, guardsmen," he said, "how goes your evening?"

"Hall's closed to common folk," one gruffly responded, "might I recommend one of the pubs across town?"

"Ah, of course," Jeremiah chuckled, "you probably haven't been informed. I'm a personal family member of Jack Ainsley, the owner of this establishment." The guard raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't react, and so Jeremiah continued. "This is to say I'm invited in, you see."

"Hall's closed," the guard repeated.

"If one of you could just ask Jack-" Jeremiah was cut off as the guard leaned forward, his long beard dangling in front of Jeremiah's face.

"The hall," he growled, "is clo-"

"Jeremiah!" A voice came from beyond the hall. A tall man in a bright white tunic approached the group with open arms, "you old sod, what are you doing here?"

"Jack!" He replied, "I was just explaining to these stalwart guardians that we're feeling a bit homesick. It's been nearly a season since we stepped foot inside your father's establishment."

"Well that is just heartbreaking," Jack beamed before turning to the guards. "No worries, though, an exception can be made on tonight of all nights." The guard was about to protest, but Jack held up a hand, "and before you fret, the captain is fine with it. Trust me." The guard didn't reply, he simply stepped aside as Jack led the group of men inside. They entered into the foyer where the coats and hats were hung, light, music and laughter coming from the main doors. The group made their way, only for Jack to hold up a hand that Fitzpatrick nearly walked into.

"A word, lads," Jack's tone dropped, "what you're about to see is quite fantastic. I'd prefer you keep it to yourselves at least until the Northmen leave on the next full moon."

"What?" Fitzpatrick laughed, "so secretive are these men from the kingdom, what could possibly be so clandestine that they hijack a whole mead hall?" Jack offered a sly smile, but didn't respond. Instead he made his way to the double doors and opened them in dramatic fashion, the group of men stepping into the hall. It was the drinking place they all knew with its two rows of long tables, animal pelts and hunting trophies decorating the vaulted ceiling that rose to a tip, torchlight casting haunting shadows of long-dead game across them. The place was packed with men in the unfamiliar garb of Northerners. They wore black tunics with strategically placed mail armour, gauntlets, and helmets that sat on the tables in front of them. They were all large, hearty men that laughed, drank, and beckoned the wenches. A sight in and of itself, but it all paled compared to what was at the end of the hall. For once Fitzpatrick was speechless, and the others of his band likewise stood in awe. It was strung up against the back wall, blood-soaked fur dripping to the floorboards with its arms tied high. At first it looked like a large bear, with stout rear legs, but it was actually knelt. Its head was bound and strung to face forward, though its expression and posture were limp.

"God in heaven," Blighty crossed himself, "it's... it's not real, is it?"

"Real as you or I," a tall, dark gentlemen approached. His hair was black as the night sky, with a matching full beard. His features were harsh, threatening, and marred by a scar that ran from his right eye to his left cheek, and of all the men inside he was the only one with a sword still on his belt. "I see you brought guests, Jack."

"Friends of the family," he replied.

"All well," the man in black smiled, a dichotomous sight given his appearance. "We were going to tell the townsfolk anyway that the great beast has finally been slain."

"Then it's true," Jeremiah uttered, "Donovan, the Hershal boys..."

"And many more, no doubt," the man in black scowled at the creature that hung on display. "A fowl, unholy abomination that's been terrorizing this land for too long. It took some work, but we finally brought the beast to justice."

"Good show," Fitzpatrick swallowed.

"Want to get a closer look?" The man in black offered. They agreed, nebbish as children at the sight of such a creature. It was nearly ten feet tall even on its knees, calling to question how they even managed to get it into the hall. One of the Northmen stood next to it, a pint of ale in one hand, a dagger in the other. He poked and prodded the beast as one of the server women looked on, boasting the feat it took to best the monster. As Fitzpatrick and his friends grew close it became even clearer just what the creature was. Like the old legends told, a half man half wolf, covered in grey and brown fur, the legs and tail of a dog, but its upper body and arms were like a man's. It's head resembled a wolf closely, but not perfectly, with eyes that seemed to glow a solid yellow-amber. Its snout was tied shut, blood and saliva dripping from its lips, and they saw the gaping wound in its chest where its heart ought to be. Fitzpatrick leaned in for a closer look, only to see the nostrils of the beast twitch.

"It's still alive!" He said, jumping back, and the man in black let out a hearty laugh.

"Aye," he said, "the beast is only half-dead. Had it been slain outright its corpse would vanish, and we'd have no proof for the kingdom."

"How did you capture it?" Blighty asked.

"We hunted it for two months," the Northman explained, "deep into the woods where it thought it was safe. These beasts never tire, they never grow sick, and they never stop. The battle lasted for days before I drove my silver blade into its gullet. That slowed it enough for us to pierce its chest, stabbing its heart." He drew his sword, its reflective silver finish glistening in the torchlight as he sliced at the beast. It hardly flinched, and he held the now blood-dipped blade out for the men to see. The blood seemed to congeal, then wisp in the air, dissolving into nothing in contact with the metal. The men watched in morbid fascination at the unsettling sight as the Northman seemed to scowl at his own blade, "unnatural, isn't it? No creature of God bleeds blood that vanishes like that. I'd exterminate every one of these vile monsters if I had the power."

"How many have you killed?" Jeremiah asked.

"More than you'd imagine," the Northman sheathed his blade. "Silver is like poison to them, left in their heart it will quickly end their lives, but if you pierce it with sword or spear and remove the blade, the damage will linger and fester without instantly killing it." The Northman seemed to boast this knowledge, clear that he had experience with these things.

"Can you believe such a thing, lads?" Fitzpatrick chuckled, turning to his group. They all smiled in impressment, all except one. Young Joseph simply looked at the beast with wide, fixated eyes, like he was in awe. He stepped towards the beast as it hung, only for the Northman to put his hand on his shoulder.

"Careful, lad," he said, "even bound and gutted these things are still a threat." Joseph placed his hand on the Northman's, turned towards him, and turned the large man's arm all the way until it snapped. He hollered in pain, falling to one knee as the hall fell silent, with only the Northman's pained whimpering reverberating through its halls. The other men at the tables watched as the young Joseph stood above the man whose arm he'd just effortlessly broken, while the other Northman with the dagger watched in shock. That shock soon wore off, and he charged at Joseph with his dagger out, and stuck the blade into the young man's gut. He didn't even flinch as the dagger sank down to its hilt, the Northman watching in shock as the flesh that touched his weapon seemed to sear, only for his hand to drop away from the handle as he realized what he faced. Joseph pulled the knife free as if it were a thorn, dropping it just as casually, and in one swift, blurred motion, removed the Northman's head from his body. The corpse only just hit the floor as the others all stood from their tables, swords drawn, as the women and Fitzpatrick's band all screamed in horror. The outside guards stormed in. The men rushed towards him. Dozens of blades, many of silver, pointed square at his throat.

What happened next wasn't well-remembered. Everything up to it was so detailed, so vivid, but all that seemed to be recalled was the blood. The viscera. Men and women torn limb from limb. Entrails strewn about. Chaos, death, and throughout it all not a single morsel eaten. It wasn't about food. It wasn't about survival. It was about every single one of them. Not a single human spared. Not a single life persisting beyond that moment. The only thing that was recalled was the faces. Each one a phantom burned into his eyes.

When it was all over he stood alone. The hall had been painted red. He was painted red. His clothes torn away, 'Joseph' stood bathed in blood, with the only other creature still drawing breath being the one strung up. He approached the 'monster,' as though it could ever be so lowly. He undid the ties around its mouth, her mouth, and then around her arms. The wolf fell forward, into his waiting arms, and he held her. Would she recognize him? Through scent most certainly, but he didn't want their last moments to be at odds. He slowly allowed himself to be true to form once more, so that she would know some small comfort in the end.

Words weren't spoken. They were unnecessary. What was communicated came from a place only they would understand. Yet she had so little left. He held his face to hers, snout nuzzled against snout, feeling the final breaths. The closest act of affection he'd shown in so long. To hold another was not his way. Yet with her last moments drawing near he needed her to know that they had found each other again. After so long, after what felt like lifetimes, when there was seemingly no chance left, he found her like this. The one who brought him into the world. It was all he could do to be there as she left. So he held her for hours, held her to him as she had once held him to her, until finally the moment came. He knelt there, watching helplessly as it started, and gently placed her down. It was how it happened to them all, and how it would one day happen to him, until there was nothing left. Nothing but the tiny fragment of her that rested at her heart. How something so small could be all there was left of someone. He held it to his chest, clutching it, feeling the pain unlike any he'd known. Yet with it, shamefully, came the anger. The hatred, and it boiled inside, until he loosed it in a howl that echoed through the entire village. It would be the town's funeral chime.

Luke woke up clutching his chest. He peeled himself from the passenger seat as he felt for the pendant that was no longer there. He recalled that he gave the Assembler to Erin, and quickly stopped the sentimental act by placing his hands in his pockets as he stared out the van's window.

"Sleep well, my man?" Mahi asked from the driver's seat. Luke didn't answer. Mahi shrugged, "guess you better get used to it. Getting tired, I mean." He glanced at Luke who still stared out the window to the city streets, "you havin' a dream?"

"Yeah," Luke sighed.

"Was it a good one?" Mahi asked.

"No," he replied, "they never are."

Chapter 4: Wellness Check

Chapter Text

Erin nearly dropped the carton of eggs as she balanced it on her one good arm, her hand holding the jug of milk. She kicked the fridge door closed as she placed them both on the island before retrieving a small pitcher from the cupboard. One by one she cracked the eggs into it, filling it nearly to the brim with the raw innards. She had little strength left in her left arm, so she was forced to crack them with one hand, and occasionally bits of shell made it in. Erin didn't care, and when the last egg was emptied she held the pitcher in one hand and drank. Normally eating raw eggs would be revolting, but now it was one of the best things she ever tasted, and the pitcher was empty in seconds. Immediately she felt the payoff for her labour as the dull pain in her left arm began to subside. She washed it all down with half a jug of milk, and let out a sigh as she caught her breath.

"I suppose we'll need to get groceries, soon," Mercer watched with raised eyebrows.

"I feel like I have to eat so many," Erin referred to the eggs as she worked her healing arm. It had started hurting as soon as she returned to normal following the fight. Strangely it felt less like an injury from the battle and more like strain, likely from holding the bus. "A whole carton per meal at least. It's very tedious."

"You need the calories at least," Mercer noted. "Transforming regularly will have your metabolism working in overdrive. You may have to consider alternative sources of energy."

"If you're talking about raw meat, no," Erin turned her gaze away. "I can't... It's still too much."

"I understand," Mercer said, "but I worry about your health. To say nothing of your quality of life, you may not be able to fight at full strength without it." Erin didn't reply. She wasn't ready for that yet, and might not ever be. She could hardly eat cooked meat still. Erin wasn't sure how to respond, but was spared the obligation when a characteristic door slam alerted them to their roommates' return. Mahi and Luke entered from the front hall, the latter not stopping in the kitchen as he walked over to the couch and dropped himself onto it.

"Well?" Mercer asked, "how did the examinations go?"

"Congratulations," Mahi extended his hands in Luke's direction, "it's a boy." He pulled up a seat at the island and leaned onto the countertop, "normal, mostly healthy human man."

"I don't get it," Erin asked as she looked at Luke, "there's nothing wrong with you?"

"No, and that's the issue," Luke sighed. "As far as any of Joan's doctor's can tell, I'm just a regular guy."

"Well, almost," Mahi shrugged. "There was an 'anomaly' on his X-Rays and CT scans." He pointed to the middle of his chest.

"The Moonstone," Mercer nodded. "So you're not truly human, just functionally?"

"I guess," Luke said as he turned on the television.

"You don't seem particularly bothered," Erin said. He didn't answer, he just sat and watched the screen. Yet Luke wasn't simply ignoring her. His posture was tense, and he didn't simply watch the screen, he fixated on it. A moment later he lifted the remote, unmuted the broadcast, and all of them perked up when the news anchor uttered a particular word.

"Werewolves," the caster spoke to someone off screen, "such a surreal name for a very tangible threat terrorizing our city, wouldn't you say?"

"I can't think of a better word," a woman replied. The camera cut to the anchor's guest. A blonde woman in a slate grey suit, one leg crossed over the other with her interlocked hands in lap. It was Angela. "As absurd as it sounds, if the shoe fits."

"But these are not myths and fairytales," the anchor continued, "it's estimated as many as forty-nine deaths have been attributed to these creatures over the course of this investigation, is that right?"

"Tragically, yes," Angela's face and candor were somber, almost melancholy. It made Erin's blood run hot. "Through our cooperation with the police force we have re-examined previous unsolved cases of animal attacks and missing persons. Using the current information gathered we believe that this epidemic has been going on much longer than just this past year."

"And how does this morning's incident correlate to your findings?"

"It's simply too early to tell," Angela shrugged, seemingly earnest in her ignorance. "Eyewitnesses describe the creature changed into a man after fighting one of the masked suspects. The creature itself fits with previous descriptions: a large, bipedal wolf-like humanoid that appeared suddenly out of nowhere. Exactly how the masked individuals are responsible for these incidents is still unclear."

"Yeah," Erin scoffed, "f*ck you, too. Bitch."

"These masked suspects," the anchor interjected, "the 'Cyborg Werewolves' as the public has come to call them, do you believe them responsible?"

"I cannot disclose anything related to the investigation," Angela held up a hand, "but the evidence is mounting. They appear at every documented incident of 'werewolf' attacks, and even as recently as last month were caught on camera committing many murders."

"And what of Celestial Biotic's collaboration with the police?" The anchor asked, "the task force was meant to begin formal operation this week."

"Rest assured, it's still happening," Angela glanced at the camera. It was as if she knew they were watching, her self-assured side-eye directed at them personally. "Though the ever-changing development has obliged our work with the police to move more methodically."

"And what about concerns about your company's autonomy," the anchor asked, "recent pollings suggest a not-insignificant percentage of citizens feel a private corporation having that much control over an armed task force to be disturbing."

"Finally," Mahi said, "someone asking the actual questions."

"Truth be told, I understand," Angela nodded sympathetically. She clasped her hands over her knee once more, and seemed to be lost in contemplation as she hesitated before continuing. "The current threat to our people is, quite frankly, unprecedented, and it seems to only be growing more erratic. We are not only forced to accept that monsters are real, but that they could be anywhere, and possibly anyone. Trust is a rapidly dwindling resource that we can't afford to waste, and from the outside looking in, I get it. We're in an evolving era, and you see all over the news stories of evil corporations ruining lives for profit. You can't trust business with your money, how could you ever trust them with your lives?" Angela turned to the camera, only this time it wasn't with a self-assured grin, but a stoney facade. "That's why I have decided that transparency matters more than corporate security. The truth is the task force's delay was a result of a new initiative to involve multiple third-party vetting sources as well as Federal oversight. We are not a private militia, and we will not act like one. Towards this goal Celestial Biotics will be offering our services to the police, and to our people, completely free of charge." This sudden declaration caused audible, if subtle, gasps from the studio and the anchor herself.

"No," Mercer groaned, "don't fall for it..."

"That's quite the charitable demonstration," the anchor pointed out.

"It's not a demonstration," Angela replied. "I built this company on a dream, and that dream became a promise: to help people. To benefit not just those who are sick and weak, but the vulnerable and the scared. People deserve that assurance, and if Celestial Biotics can aid law enforcement in that assurance in any way, I solemnly swear to do so."

"How?" Erin uttered, shaking her head in disbelief as she leaned on the counter. "How can she just lie like that?"

"Because people will believe her," Luke said, "because they want to believe her."

"I'm done," Mahi held up his hands, "not watching anymore of this crap." Luke shrugged before picking up the remote and turning the television off, leaving them all in silence to ruminate on what they just watched.

"It was foolish to think we stopped the golems," Mercer sighed. "At most we delayed it. She'll make more."

"Then we'll break more," Luke stood up from the couch. He dropped the remote on the cushions as he stretched, then looked towards the kitchen. "Anyone else hungry? I feel like I could eat a whole beef sirloin."

"At the risk of asking a stupid question," Mahi held up a hand, "can you even eat raw meat now? You're functionally human, what if you get sick?"

"I hadn't considered that," Mercer held a curled figure to his chin. "Perhaps it'd be best to try some normal food first, just in case your nutritional needs have indeed changed."

"Okay," Luke nodded. He walked towards the kitchen, past his own refrigerator, and up to the cupboards. He opened a few, browsing the selection, only to glance back at them. "Any suggestions?"

"I mean, it's still the morning," Erin said as she reached past him into the cupboard, "how about cereal?"

"Okay," Luke shrugged, "why not?"

"Cereal really isn't the best breakfast food," Mercer pointed out.

"True," Erin poured him a bowl of corn flakes, "but it tastes good." She reached for the jug of milk, and Luke gave her a quizzical look.

"What's the milk for?" He asked.

"You gotta have milk with cereal," she rolled her eyes, thinking it was a joke, but Luke's expression made it clear he was sincere. "Cereal's really dry, so you have to wet it."

"That sounds gross," he said.

"Yeah, but it makes sense once you try it," Erin poured the milk over the flakes.

"Why not use water?" He asked.

"That sounds gross," Erin replied. Luke looked at Mahi and Mercer with visible bemusem*nt. Mahi simply smiled and shrugged, while Mercer shook his head. Erin slid the bowl over to Luke, handing him a spoon, and he looked at the simple concoction before him. Erin smiled, "just try it."

"Okay," Luke said. He scooped up a spoonful and put it in his mouth. His eyes widened, and he immediately went back for more. "Why does it taste so good?"

"Most likely the added sugar coating," Mercer observed.

"I guess you like it-" Erin was cut off as Luke pressed his face into the bowl, eating directly from it without the spoon. He gulped it down as Erin struggled to pull him away from the bowl, his face and beard sopping wet with milk and covered in soggy flakes. Mercer watched in horror as milk was spilled all over the counter, while Mahi couldn't help but laugh as Erin tried to wrangle him.

"Jesus, Luke!" She said as she looked at the mess he made, "what the hell was that?"

"I've never tasted something like that before," he said, not taking his eyes off the bowl.

"I suppose it makes sense," Mercer stood up, moving to pick up the paper towels, "canines have a much more limited set of taste buds."

"Pretty sure dogs can still taste sweet stuff, though," Mahi said.

"I only ever tasted the meat," Luke said, wiping his face on his sleeve. Mercer sighed, handing him a few sheets of paper towel instead. Luke began cleaning himself up, "it's like the flavour never mattered, even if I covered it in spices, like my body was telling me that only it mattered."

"Well, I guess your body doesn't need the meat, now," Erin said. It made sense to her. She was gradually losing her ability to taste anything but meat, regardless of its actual flavour or her human taste buds. Her body didn't want the flavour or the flesh itself, but the energy. She realized now that this is how Luke had lived his entire life.

"I want to eat more stuff," Luke said, his eyes darting around the kitchen. "What other flavours are there besides cereal?"

"Hold on there, Shaggy," Mahi said, "if you really do have a human body, you can't just eat everything you want."

"Why not?" He asked.

"Because," Mahi held up his hands, "you'll get sick. And fat."

"Human body means human metabolism," Erin crossed her arms as Luke picked up the bowl to down the remaining milk and flakes. Luke finished with a gasp as he placed the empty bowl back on the countertop.

"I like it," he uttered.

"I can tell," Erin said, "we'll have to get more cereal."

"No," Luke said. His eyes were obscured by his hair as he hung his head, but what was visible was the slight smile on his lips. "I mean I like being like this."

"We should be cautious," Mercer pointed out. "Lucas only appears to be functioning as a normal human, but this could very well be the precursor to something else. It would be best if we do not make too many assumptions."

"Doc's right," Luke said, suddenly regaining his composure. "Whatever this is, we have to work around it, change our strategy."

"I saw on the news," Mahi looked at Erin, "you did a hell of a job."

"You say that," Erin sighed, remembering the struggle, "but it almost ended in disaster."

"You stopped a fake and no one died," Luke said bluntly. "That's as good as it gets."

"Right," Mercer nodded. "The Police Commissioner. That is an unexpected development."

"That's who it was?" Mahi asked. "The news never gave a name. I guess it shouldn't surprise me that they have law enforcement under their belt."

"I don't think so," Erin said, "I've met the Commissioner before, he was one of the good ones. It doesn't make sense that he'd be bought so easily."

"People can disappoint you," Luke crossed his arms. "Celestial can gain loyalty in more ways than simply buying it."

"Still, I don't think it's that simple," Erin continued, "the whole time I fought him something was off. He didn't talk, he didn't act very intelligently, and he didn't seem like he had a goal." She held her hands as she leaned on the countertop, feeling her bare ring finger, "he was out of control, wild. This wasn't a regular fake, it acted more like..." Erin took a breath as she remembered what happened. The guilt hit her fresh all over again, and she had to push it back down. "He acted more like I did on that day."

"We know CB can make pocket wolves," Mahi said, earning confused glances from the rest. "What? We already call the regular ones 'fakes,' but remember the lady at the parking garage? Or the scientists in the underwater base? The kind-of-wolfmen? They gotta have their own name."

"True," Mercer noted. "We know the transformative catalyst can be injected to cause a partial mutation, but those looked different from the Commissioner."

"Yeah," Luke said, "to be honest, he looked more like a typical wolfman. He didn't have a gimmick like the more recent ones." Luke sighed as he seemed to linger on the thought. "He looked more like a pup."

"You think he was attacked?" Mahi asked. Luke shrugged.

"Seldom does Celestial make such an error," Mercer sighed, picking up his cane as he stood up. "It's not impossible, but fakes have never left pups before," he gave Erin a tepid nod, "at least not intentionally. The idea that one would not... finish their victim or intentionally create an aberration is odd. I'll analyze the recording for any other clues."

"We should also look into who the Commissioner is," Luke said. "If this is a loose thread CB left, let's pull it."

"I'll call Alex, too," Erin pushed herself off of the counter as she headed towards the phone, "see how the force is responding to this news." As she crossed the kitchen to the wall-mounted telephone, there was a sudden tapping noise. They all turned towards the living room, towards the balcony, where a small black shape was at the window. It was a bird of some kind, tapping its beak against the glass. It sat there, pausing between taps to look inside, and Erin looked back to the others. They also seemed confused, all except Luke, who simply nodded to her. Erin nodded back, and went towards the window as she parted the sliding glass doors. A brisk chill wind hit her as the bird, a raven, simply stood in the snow.

"May I come in?" It asked, its voice familiar.

"Sure," Erin uttered, unsure just what she was seeing as the bird strutted into the apartment. It puffed out its feathers, wiping its tiny feet on the mat by the doors before stepping onto the hardwood. Erin finally understood who this was.

"Strange weather," Joan said.

"Good to see you, Joan," Luke approached her with his hands in his pockets. "You've recovered?"

"Thanks to you," she said. Her raven face lacked obvious emotion, but she kept her eyes on him. Erin felt an apprehension she couldn't describe. "You look well."

"Looks can be deceiving," Luke shrugged. He took a seat on the couch. Joan hopped over to the table, and looked up at Erin.

"May I?" She asked. Erin nodded, and the bird briefly took flight in order to stand on the table, wanting to be just a bit closer to their level. She turned towards the kitchen as Mahi and Mercer quickly joined them in the living room. "I hope I'm not intruding. I just wanted to check up on you all."

"Not at all," Mercer said, "we're merely taking stock of current events. It's been... tumultuous."

"You could've used the front door if you wanted," Erin pointed out, then recalled lore she had heard growing up. "Or is this because vampires need to be invited into someone's house?"

"That's merely superstition," a chuckle crept into Joan's voice, a strange thing given her current form, "I simply wanted to be polite. Besides, in this form I can safely traverse in sunlight."

"Oh, right," Erin felt a bit of embarrassment at forgetting arguably the most important part of vampire mythology. Joan didn't point out the lapse in judgement, and instead turned back to Luke. "You say you're not well, however?"

"A side-effect of that form I took," he reclined on the couch. He didn't elaborate, prompting Mercer to speak up.

"Lucas appears to be human," he explained. "Or rather his body has regressed to a functional equivalent. He no longer has his heightened sense, healing abilities, or physical prowess. He is, for lack of better terms, no longer immortal."

"No one is immortal," Joan and Luke said in unison. The synchronicity went unacknowledged by both, though Mahi couldn't suppress a brief snicker. Erin, however, wasn't amused.

"Did you know this would happen?" She asked Joan, crossing her arms.

"No," she replied. "I recalled the last time Luke gained a new transformation, and the reaction he had, and so I was concerned something similar would happen." She looked at Luke, still reclining on the couch, "I wouldn't have expected this." Erin detected something in her tone that didn't seem right. She couldn't explain it, but something about the way Joan was speaking seemed too complacent. These growing doubts eventually got the better of her, and Erin uncrossed her arms as she stepped behind the couch.

"Can I talk to you?" Erin asked. "Alone, if that's not a problem?"

"Of course," the raven said. Luke turned to look at Erin, an accusing expression of doubt on his face, but she didn't pay it mind. Instead she walked into the hallway, the raven hopping down from the table and strutting after her. She led Joan into her bedroom, closing the door behind them. She turned to look at the crow as she stood in the center of the room.

"I have a few questions," Erin kept an even tone.

"I'll do my best to answer," Joan said.

"Why were you above ground when you were attacked?" Erin turned to the crow, "it was day time, shouldn't you have been sleeping?"

"I was attempting to track Celestial's financial trail," Joan explained, "their company uses many investment subsidiaries under my own, and I thought I could help you if I was able to see where the money was coming and going. It would've involved making many calls, and most offices close after dark, but I didn't get very far before the incident."

"Why not have a thrall do it?" Erin asked.

"Because recent events have dissuaded me," the crow turned its head sideways, "a woman I trusted was secretly working for your enemy. I didn't want to risk my investigation making it back to them."

"I see," Erin looked at the bird, feeling an awkward tension, and found it difficult to look her in the eye. "I just have one more question..."

"Of course," the crow replied.

"First, and if it's not too much to ask," Erin said tepidly, "I'd rather speak to the real you." The bird seemed to nod. A moment later the crow seemed to dissipate into a dark mist, drifting upwards and expanding into a black cloud, only for Joan to step out of it as though she were exiting a veil, then the cloud dissolved behind her. It momentarily stunned Erin, but Joan acted as if the transformation was nothing short of completely normal.

"You're wondering what I did to Luke," she said. Erin nodded. Joan held her hands clasped before her, and took a breath. "I know that, to you, it must have been quite extreme."

"Extreme?" Erin asked, "Luke killed people. He killed them and drank their blood, all so that he could restore you." Erin felt a tension that had been built inside begin to unravel, yet she kept herself composed. "I just want to know... did you make him do that?"

"No," Joan said. "I would never."

"Then why?" Erin looked at her, her eyes starting to shimmer, "why did he undo all of it?"

"All of what?" Joan asked, seemingly sincere.

"All that... that progress!" Erin blurted, "after all this time of not killing and eating people he just turns into that." She crossed her arms, turning away from Joan as she tried to hide the pain on her face. Erin took a few breaths, "I just don't know why."

"'All this time,'" Joan said. "You really don't know Luke, do you?" Erin turned to Joan with anger on her face, but that anger subsided when she saw Joan's own melancholic expression. She turned towards the bed and sat down, hands in her lap, and looked to Erin with a solemn gaze. "I don't expect you to know. You're only human, after all, but 'all that progress' is a drop in the well. You've known Luke for, what, half a year? I've known him for centuries." Joan took a breath, "the man you know, and the wolf I know, are very different people. Granted, I have not had constant contact with him, but I have seen his true self. He may have not consumed anyone in recent times, but that does not change the fact that he hunted humanity for hundreds of years."

"That doesn't excuse it," Erin said, "it's never too late to change."

"Change what?" Joan asked, "his very nature? That's as if you decided to quit smoking because you haven't lit a cigarette in a mere twenty minutes. Compared to the rest of our life spans his current disposition is a whim. One year of abstinence does not undo centuries of indulgence."

"And that gives you the right to let him kill again?" Erin asked. Joan tilted her head as she looked at her with puzzlement.

"Do you think I'm a monster?" She asked.

"No?" Erin was taken aback, "no, of course not. I'm not talking about you, I-"

"I kill people," Joan said bluntly, causing Erin to suddenly tense up. "I've killed many people. I killed those people the other night as much as Luke did. Why am I not held to the same standard you hold him?"

"That's different," Erin said.

"How?"

"Because Luke didn't want to!" Erin snapped, "because Luke is trying to change. He's trying to be better, and he's trying to... he's trying!" Erin felt herself on the verge of tears, yet she didn't know why. Why was she holding Luke to a different standard? Why was his murder of those men so much worse than Joan's? As if sensing her inner conflict, Joan stood up from the bed, and stepped towards Erin.

"You are not like him," Joan said plainly. "You do not resist your born nature, you struggle to preserve it. You're not a monster just because you killed someone."

Erin didn't know what to say. Something about it didn't seem right, it wasn't what she meant, but it hit her where she didn't expect. Erin stayed silent, even as Joan stepped past her, and as she reached for the door knob Erin had only one question.

"Then why did he kill them?" She asked, "just because it's his 'nature?' No reason? What was the point?"

"There isn't one," Joan said.

"There has to be a point," Erin turned to her, "everything has to have a point."

"Why is that?" Joan asked, seemingly genuine in her curiosity.

"Because there just is," Erin reiterated. "Life has to have a point. There has to be a meaning to it all, otherwise... otherwise horrible things would happen all the time for no reason."

"Death is often pointless," Joan said solemnly. "That's the point. If all death had meaning, then none would have meaning. Life itself would be interchangeable as everyone existed only for the same result. A sacrifice would weigh as much as a murder." Joan turned to face her, "Luke knows this. He has never stopped killing. Do the deaths of your enemies weigh the same as the death of an innocent?"

"That's not-" Erin felt herself choke, "that's not what I'm trying to say."

"I know," Joan said, "but it's how this world works. You want to save a man's soul without knowing just what it is that threatens him, because you think you'll save your own in the process." Joan looked Erin in the eye, and Erin only now noticed the subtle glint of red in her pupil. Not her iris, but the very center, as if something lurked behind those eyes. It was the only hint that the otherwise normal-looking person she spoke to was not human. Not anymore. Yet just as she was about to turn to leave she stopped herself, and despite that knowledge the woman before Erin seemed every bit as human as herself as the unmistakable look of sympathy came across her face. "I'm sorry for hurting you."

Chapter 5: Shell

Chapter Text

The gentle knock at the door was unnecessary. Both parties understood this. The clack of her heels was heard practically since she entered the building. So much could be heard from the office. Sounds, scents, and even the radiation of heat were like beacons in a fog. Sometimes it was easier to identify someone without seeing them. Sight could be fooled. Things never were as they seemed. The reliance on eyesight was the very crutch humanity relied on that made her job so much easier. All the same, the knock was not a means of alerting her presence. It was, and had always been, a simple courtesy. An expression of regime, respect, and above all, compliance. It's why a reply was seldom given. The formalities and appearances ended at those doors, where humans had to see things the way they wanted to be seen. That's why Jessica entered only after a brief moment's hesitation, for the appearance of permission given.

"I have the management applications you requested," Jessica said as she closed the door. "I arranged the candidates in order of viability and attached all relevant avenues of control."

"Good," Angela nodded. "How are you feeling, by the way? After what happened at the other facility."

"Fine," Jessica replied robotically. "I have Urchin to thank for that, unusual as that sounds."

"Indeed," Angela chuckled, "remind me to reward him with something. Maybe add a plastic plant to his tank."

"Of course," Jessica nodded as she thumbed through the pages, seemingly missing Angela's joke entirely. "Patent requests are also in, they just need your signature."

"What news from the police in regards to our new task force schedule?" Angela asked.

"No response at the moment," Jessica continued. "The police liaison has requested our meeting be pushed back due to this morning's events. Serendipitous, as the investor meeting has been moved forward, so you can still take your lunch at six assuming it doesn't go late."

"'Serendipitous,'" Angela repeated with a smile. "What a pleasantly uncommon word."

"My apologies," Jessica replied, earning a deflated sigh from Angela.

"Don't apologize," she leaned in her office chair. "It's a perfectly valid term. You just don't hear it often. Why do you think that is?"

"Perhaps because humans dislike the unknown," Jessica replied as she sorted the documents in her hand. "Oftentimes the unexpected is negative, because it means things have not gone to plan."

"Precisely," Angela said. "When things don't go according to plan, it's tantamount to failure. Any projected outcome with validity would account for all variables, and yet..." Her voice seemed to drift as she turned her head, staring out the window into the bright white haze of the overcast skies. "Things keep happening that I don't foresee. Alabaster's continued aberrant behaviour, Luke's constant intervention, and that woman..."

"I can see how that would be vexing," Jessica said calmly.

"Vexing?" Angela turned to her, "it's thrilling. Humbling even, that despite my relentless pursuit of efficiency things can still surprise me." She stood up from her desk, breathing deeply as she soaked in every scent in the building. "Do you know, Jessica, just how I experience the world?"

"I do not," she replied.

"When you are alive as long as I am," Angela explained as she walked towards her assistant, "and your senses are as sharp as my own, you start to see just how it all works. How things move in tandem, a perpetual dance of action and consequence. I hear almost everything, smell almost everything, and over the centuries my mind has been moulded to identify and predict these patterns. Like a reflex. I watch it all in slow motion, like the gears of a clock, each passing its movement to the next in a single, linked choreography. It can become so stale after a while." Angela walked past her assistant who simply stood there, all the way to the small desk at the side of the room. There was a decanter on top, and she pulled a small glass from the drawer beneath it. "I know you don't normally drink, but would you care to join me?"

"If... that's your wish," Jessica seemed, for the first time ever, unsure of her employer. As Angela poured the two glasses she handed one to the young woman, who accepted it hesitantly before glancing up, "centuries?"

"I'm afraid I've not been entirely honest with you all," Angela took a sip. She pondered a moment as she looked into the glass, then glanced towards Jessica. "What exactly do you think I am?"

"You are my employer," Jessica said dutifully. Angela smiled.

"That wasn't a trick question, dear," she took another sip. "I'm asking quite literally."

"You are..." Jessica hesitated, having not partook in her own drink yet, "I believe you are an iteration. You modified your own genetic structure to achieve inhuman power and longevity, just like you do with the iterations here, though I never considered who was responsible."

"No, you didn't," Angela finished her drink. "That's why I appreciate you. You are a professional after my own heart. I know if I ask you a question, you'll give an honest answer. If I ask you to do something, you'll do it." Angela returned to the desk where the decanter was, and placed the glass down. She then retrieved something else from the drawer, but didn't show it to Jessica, instead holding it under her jacket. "I'm not a human being, you know."

"I know," Jessica said. "You're beyond that."

"No," Angela chuckled, "I mean I never was human. This," she waved her hand over her body, "this is just a skin. A shell. You know what I really am, what I was born as." Angela watched as Jessica seemed to process it all, though it didn't seem to faze her.

"I see," Jessica nodded.

"What will you do with this information?" Angela asked.

"Ma'am?" Jessica only now seemed confused, but soon understood this was yet another serious question. "I will continue to do whatever you ask of me, as is my job."

"Good," Angela said, revealing a snub-nose revolver from under her jacket. "Then shoot yourself in the head."

Jessica hesitated as she looked at the gun, and Angela watched the subtle emotions crossing her face. Emotions so subtle that, to a human, may even be invisible. But Angela knew well the idiosyncrasies of man. The things that ran through their heads when confronted with death. She had seen it so many times she could never begin to count, and yet Jessica seemed different. The emotions were quick, almost token, and after less than a minute she extended her hand with the still full glass. Angela took the glass as Jessica accepted the gun, then handed her employer the papers she still carried in her other hand. She then held the weapon to her temple, closed her eyes, and pulled the trigger.

Papers hit the floor just after the shot was fired. The bang was not as loud as one would think, as though it were muffled, and Jessica slowly opened her eyes. The gun was still to her head, but so was something else. Angela's arm was outstretched, her hand between the barrel and Jessica's skin, and she slowly pulled it back. As she did so, she turned her palm upward, revealing the bullet resting in the center of scorched flesh. Flesh that, after mere seconds, had returned to its normal, pristine complexion. Angela tilted her hand, letting the bullet drop onto the carpet, next to the strewn papers. Jessica's heart was racing, her sweating was evident, yet she stayed completely composed. Angela couldn't help but smile as she gingerly took the gun from her assistant's hand. She carried the gun and the glass towards the desk and placed them on the mahogany surface.

"That will be all, Jessica," she said plainly. The assistant nodded, quickly gathered her papers, and placed them on her employer's desk. She turned to leave, glancing at the bullet on the floor, before exiting her office.

Chapter 6: Unravelling

Chapter Text

The cold had not slowed down business at the diner. It was the lunch hour, students and office workers mingled with families and senior citizens as everyone enjoyed their break. It was bustling, so much so that Erin had to squeeze past a group on their way out. Every booth was occupied, and every stool was taken, but she noticed one man in particular sitting in the far corner. He noticed her, too, and gave a subtle nod. Erin glanced about the many patrons inside, and felt somewhat exposed. So much of her life was spent in what felt like solitude, or at the very least in hiding. On the other hand, she hadn't been out in so long it was somewhat pleasant to be part of the hustle of life. Erin reached the booth, taking off her coat and setting it next to her as she greeted the man who waited for her.

"Kind of crowded in here," she said, "aren't you afraid we'll be overheard if we talk shop?"

"Quite the contrary," Alex smiled. "I've been coming here since I was in high school. I know every face in this diner like they were my next door neighbor." He glanced around the busy establishment. "Sometimes being out in the light is the best way to stay hidden."

"You might be right," Erin mused. "Not that CB seems to be shying away from daylight escapades."

"Right," Alex sighed, "that's one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. The Commissioner."

"What can you tell me?" Erin asked, only for a cup of coffee to be placed in front of her by the waitress.

"I went ahead and ordered for you," Alex smiled. "Still two milk and sugar, I hope?"

"As long as I can help it," Erin nodded before taking a sip.

"The station is in disarray," Alex explained. "Honestly it doesn't make sense. The Commissioner supported the CB collaboration, most of city hall does, but he wasn't in their pocket. He couldn't be."

"I didn't think so," Erin shook her head. "I don't think this is a case of them offering the... procedure, I think he was a target."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean he wasn't like the others," Erin explained. "He was out of control. Back at the parking garage I saw Mercury inject a regular civilian with something that turned them into a fake in minutes. I think someone did the same to Hartwell." Erin mulled it over as she stared into her drink, "we stopped the task force temporarily. However it won't be long till CB makes more. Maybe this was done to buy time?"

"Maybe," Alex said, "but why the Commissioner? He was practically on his way out anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he was going to retire," Alex said, "and I mean real soon. He never said much, but I know he had plans. Seems like they could've just waited."

"Maybe they couldn't," Erin took a sip, "maybe they needed him gone now." She placed her cup on the saucer and slowly spun it. She looked at her hand, the faint indentation of her engagement ring still burned into her skin. "Maybe this was just another statement. Maybe CB wants everyone in power to know they're not safe."

"Well, it's working," Alex sighed. "Mayor's in a panic, people are demanding answers. It's just small enough to not rock the boat, but it's causing hysteria for those in proximity."

"Has the investigation given any clues?" Erin asked, only for Alex's disposition to shift.

"There is no investigation," Alex sighed. "Not really. No one's been allowed to look into Hartwell's personal files, and his house is apparently under observation but no-one's been cleared to go in to look for anything that can explain this. Not even sure what his wife thinks of it all."

"That's pretty suspicious," Erin mused.

"It is," Alex said, "considering there was no red tape like this before." He took a sip of his own coffee, "but I just can't see Hartwell being on their side."

"Neither can I," Erin sighed, her tone dropping, "but people can disappoint you."

"Then I have a favour to ask," Alex began, and Erin suddenly perked up. "Your friend could get into Hartwell's place. Assuming it wasn't already picked clean, if he went tonight he could maybe look for something, anything, that could give us a clue."

"That might be a problem," Erin sighed. "Luke isn't exactly himself lately."

"I see," Alex nodded, his eyes averting her own. "So it is you in the outfit now."

"It is," she likewise turned her gaze towards the window. "I didn't mean to lie to you. It's just been hectic."

"It wasn't my business to ask," he replied, but Erin sensed some disappointment in his tone.

"I wanted to tell you," Erin sighed as she leaned onto the table, resting her head in her hand. "I just wasn't sure what you'd..." Her words trailed off even as Alex stayed at rapt attention, but sensing she wasn't going to continue he took a breath before likewise leaning in.

"What does it mean, then?" Alex looked her in the eye. Erin found it hard to meet that look.

"It means I'm the one who'll be doing the fighting," Erin sighed. "That form is something only him and I can use. Y'know, because of what we are."

"And how's that working for you?" He asked, looking at her face. "You look a little better than last time, but you still seem a little on the pale side."

"I don't eat as much as I should," Erin sighed, "I need... My body needs meat, but I can't. Not yet. I eat a lot of eggs, milk, and I'm giving jerky a try, but after that night-" Erin stopped before she worked herself up. Alex didn't need to know the details, or her struggles. Not when there were bigger things going on. "Part of me still holds out hope that this is all just one horrible dream. A dream that'll end and I'll wake up in my own bed next to him like nothing happened."

"I miss him, too," Alex said softly. Erin clenched her hands tightly, only for Alex to place his own hand on hers as she looked up at him. She pulled her right hand back, reaching towards the collar of her shirt. She pulled out a small velvet pouch strung to a thin rope necklace. She held it out for a moment, feeling through the fabric at the object within.

"I can't wear the engagement ring he gave me," Erin said, placing the necklace back under her sweater. "I wanted to keep it on me, I still do, but I can feel the aversion to the metal. I won't forget him, though."

"Of course you won't," Alex said softly. He watched as Erin wiped the budding tear from her eye. "You know you don't have to do any of this."

"I do," Erin sighed, and quickly grew ashamed of her outburst. "It's simply what needs to be done. I don't really have a choice."

"It's always your choice," Luke said as he sat next to her. Erin clutched her chest as she all but jumped from her seat.

"You son of a-" she hissed, glaring at him as he made himself comfortable. "I thought you didn't have your abilities anymore?"

"I don't," Luke didn't look at her as he picked up the menu, "not all my tricks are because I'm a werewolf."

"Please don't use the W-word so casually," Erin glanced nervously around the diner.

"Is everything alright?" Alex asked with audible apprehension.

"Depends," Luke glanced at him a moment before returning to the menu, "either of you guys have money?"

"Luke, don't be a dick-" Erin began, only for Alex to hold up a hand.

"It's on me," Alex said. "Honestly I never did pay you back for saving my life way back when."

"Cool," Luke nodded. He turned the menu to Erin, pointing at one of the pictures. "Is this any good?"

"Pancakes?" Erin gave him a sideways glance, "uh, yeah?"

"And this?" He pointed to bacon and eggs. She nodded. He squinted at the menu one more time, "what makes a sandwich a 'club?' Or do you have to be part of a club to order it?"

"Oh God," Erin groaned as she looked at the very confused Alex, "I'm sorry, he's just recently discovered flavour."

"I'm a regular guy now," Luke said casually as he glanced at Alex, "weak, slow, and blunted. Just like the rest of you."

"Is that how you see humans?" Erin asked. Luke shrugged.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," he explained, then looked up at Alex. "As far as the mission goes, though, I'm of no use. That's why she's the one fighting." Luke closed the menu as he tapped it on the edge of the table. "On the bright side, I finally get to know what people food is like."

"That's a lot to process," Alex raised his eyebrows.

"Not really," Luke shrugged as the waitress approached their booth. He opened the menu and pointed, listing the many things he wanted as she wrote them down. She seemed to be writing down quite a lot.

"You guys have company coming?" The waitress asked as she took his menu.

"Nope, all for him," Erin rested her head on her hand. The waitress gave only the slightest of odd stares before leaving.

"So," Alex picked up his cup, "how do you like it? Being human, that is?"

"I'll let you know when I'm finished," Luke shrugged.

"What the hell does that mean?" Erin gave him a sideways glance, thinking he had learned something she didn't, "you mean it's temporary? Did Mercer figure out what's going on?"

"No," Luke said.

"Then how do you know you'll ever 'finish?'" Alex asked.

"Because being human is temporary," Luke stretched as his sentence blended into a protracted yawn, "that's the point. I'll either go back to normal eventually, or I'll die like this."

"Jeez," Erin said, finding the comment macabre, "don't say that. We'll figure it out. Assuming it's not just a temporary thing, there's got to be a way to change you back."

"Can I try some of that?" Luke pointed to her cup, not even acknowledging her. Erin sighed as she wordlessly slid it towards him, and he took a quick gulp. His normally vacant expression twisted into revulsion, then placid again, with eyebrows raised.

"Huh," he uttered, placing the cup back in front of Erin. "Coffee was one of the few things I could taste, and it's still... different. Neat."

"Is something wrong?" Erin asked, moving her cup just out of his reach, "why'd you follow me here?"

"Nothing to do at the apartment," Luke said as he picked up the salt shaker from the table, "figured I might as well live life, y'know?" He poured salt into his mouth, reeling from the taste. He coughed, heaving loudly enough to draw stares from the other patrons, then reached for the pepper shaker. Erin snatched it away, as well as the ketchup bottle, moving all the condiments out of his reach to avoid more outbursts.

"You're making a scene," Erin whispered.

"You know," Alex suppressed a smile at the antics, "being human means having restraint."

"Why?" Luke asked. "I never understood that. You guys don't have that long, so why not make the most of it?"

"We have plenty of time," Erin said, "but if we spend it all eating junk foods and not taking care of ourselves we'll have a lot less."

"She's right, you know," Alex couldn't help but chuckle, "good things can sometimes have bad consequences. Especially if you're not careful."

"Isn't that what makes it so good, though?" Luke asked, his tone and expression making it clear it wasn't rhetorical. He seemed to ponder a moment, leaning on the table with his arms crossed. "Things almost go bad, but they don't. It's like winning a little game."

"Then what about when it does go bad?" Erin asked.

"Then you lose," Luke shrugged, "maybe that's why grief and sadness is called loss?" Before Erin could offer a counter-argument the waitress arrived with two plates, placing a stack of pancakes and several strips of bacon in front of him.

"Be right back with the rest, hon," she said. The waitress had no sooner turned her back before Luke picked up a pancake in his bare hand and shoved it in his mouth, Erin holding a hand up to shield her face partly from embarrassment and partly to protect against collateral damage.

"You know there's cutlery inside the napkin, right?" Alex asked. Luke glanced at the folded napkin to the left of his food, peeking within to see a knife and fork, only to nod apathetically and keep eating as he always had. After half the stack had vanished Luke glanced up to see Erin and Alex watching in horror, and he seemed to at least register their stares.

"Oh, right," Luke swallowed. He picked up a pancake in his hand and held it out, "you guys want some? It's really good."

"I'll pass, thanks," Alex said. Luke shrugged, and continued making a mess, ambivalent to everyone else.

Chapter 7: Once More With Feeling

Chapter Text

"What do you remember?" She asked.

"I'm not sure what you mean," he replied, not meeting her gaze. Instead his eyes drifted towards his own hands as they seemed to twitch and move without him trying to. Noticing this, she placed her hand on his, both to stay the jittering and perhaps to reaffirm his attention.

"Start with the night Mercer Ray died," she specified. "Do you remember it?"

"I do," he nodded, speaking his thoughts as they came to him. "I remember... noticing his growing apprehension. His hesitation." He looked back at his hand as she let go, and it was still once more. "Doctor Ray was a kind man. Sentimental. I knew he had his misgivings long before he tried to..." Fingers twitched. Grasping for something that wasn't there. Her hand returned, placed on his, and the calming sensation returned.

"Just remember that night," Angela said softly, "and the nights after."

"They were going to destroy it," he said calmly, his eyes fixated on her fingers. "I went to reason with them, but they wouldn't listen." A pang of regret tugged within, yet as though it were a prickle on his palm he overcame that minor pain. "It happened very fast. I don't remember what happened after that."

"What do you remember?" She asked again.

"I woke up in an operating room," he recounted, sifting through the sudden haze that surrounded this point in time. "I remember... your voice. The doctors there were..." the haze suddenly fell away, parting like a veil as a different memory took over. It was sudden, stark, like a skip on a record. A jump ahead, yet he continued narrating all the same. "I felt my legs for the first time in years. I stood up, I walked, with a vigor I'd all but forgotten, and saw my face in a mirror." He stopped to wipe a tear from his eye, but did not lose his composure, "I was cured. Not just of my disease, but of my age. I was young again."

"And then what?" Angela asked, "tell me what you remember of your battles." She leaned in, picking up his chin with her curled finger so his eyes were on her own. "Tell me about Luke. Tell me about the woman."

"I..." Mercury saw the perfectly fixed black points. Eyes unnaturally still and focused, not a tremble in either of them. Not even the subtle shifts of focus one would subconsciously make to maintain sight. The eyes were so fixed one would think they were dead, or the facsimile of eyes you'd find on a wax figure. Anatomically accurate, but not quite right. Mercury cleared his throat.

"I first encountered Luke in the undersea research facility," he explained calmly. "It was then that I encountered Doctor Ray's modified Assembler device and its chemical catalyst, which greatly advanced the Compiler. Following that breakthrough I confronted him, isolated, and defeated but did not kill him. Our third encounter was..." Mercury held his head as a sudden strange sensation hit him. It wasn't dizziness, nor outright pain, but a sort of obstacle. It's as though pieces were missing. The events were clear. The taking of the hostages. The battle. The woman using the Assembler on herself, and Mercury's own subsequent defeat. Yet it lacked something important. Something critical.

"The third encounter," Angela began, "where you took civilian hostages and garnered law enforcement and media attention, all to draw out Luke. Why did you do that?"

"I-" Mercury felt the obstruction again. The incongruity, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to intensely focus, only to feel the information he needed to slip through his mental grasp. "I don't know. I don't know why I did it."

"I see," Angela nodded, "and your defeat by that woman, what did that make you feel?"

"I don't understand the question," he spoke honestly, yet she seemed to smile as if it were a joke.

"I will ask more directly," Angela said, "what was your emotional state after being humiliated by her, beaten by a civilian who had never fought, and impaled with iron rebar?"

"I don't know," he told the truth. "I... I should have been angry."

"You should have."

"I should have wanted revenge?"

"Yes."

"And I did," he held his hand to his head. Now the obstruction was hurting, like a dull pressure. He felt his temples pulse, and his ears felt hot, yet he could not say in earnest that these emotions existed in memory. Even recalling the situation garnered no animosity, even if by all accounts the human psyche should have some response to that kind of event. "I acted accordingly. I used the inactive vampiric extract to falsify claims of attacks by Luke, to draw them out."

"Did you do this in the interests of Project Lazarus?" Angela asked plainly, but her expression had grown harsh. She looked at him with contempt, a reasonable expression in his mind. Were he in her position he'd logically feel the same. However he did not. He felt nothing. Nothing but the dull pain and a sense of confusion, but no emotional recourse. No empathy for her displeasure, no hatred towards his enemies, no sense of pride at his humiliation. It was all empty. Lacking these impetuses, the only thing remaining were the simple facts. His actions and their associated consequences.

"No," he replied the only way he could, his tone plain and robotic. "I don't know why I did it. It was illogical to do so."

"Splendid," Angela said. As if a switch flipped her demeanour changed. She sat straighter in her chair, the only piece of furniture besides his own in the entire plain white room. She adjusted her skirt on her legs as she spoke to him, "the important thing is that you understood what you did was wrong."

"I see," he nodded.

"Then you're free to go," Angela stood, offering her hand. He accepted it, intending to shake, only for her to lift him from his seat despite being much smaller than him.

"What's next, then?" He asked.

"Project Lazarus is still in operation," she explained, "albeit delayed. You may return to your directorial duties." She turned to leave through the only door in the room. It lacked a handle of any kind, but upon approaching it there was a clicking sound, and the door swung inward. Just before stepping out Angela stopped in her tracks, turned back towards Mercury, and held up a finger.

"Oh," she said as if only remembering something at that moment, "you're not going to do anything like that again, correct? No more outbursts or vendettas?"

"No," he said. Angela quickly gave him a thumbs up before exiting, leaving the door ajar for him. Mercury still wasn't sure why he had done the things he had vivid memories of. It was as though it were someone else entirely, but his thoughts, his memories, were undeniably his. There wasn't even the lingering remnant of emotion, the way one might recall acts from early life or childhood. No connecting tissue whatsoever. He glanced towards the left wall, itself a large mirror. The man who stared back was undoubtedly Geoffrey Alabaster. A doctor. A man of science. Seeing his reflection reassured him, and he began to apply the clinical thinking he always had. These past events spurred by emotions that did not exist must have been the result of side-effects from his treatment. The reversal of his age and ailment would most likely have impacted his brain's chemical balance. That's why he couldn't sense those emotions. They were elicited under unnatural circ*mstances. Byproducts of an affliction he no longer suffered from. As he stared into the mirror he tested his own capacity for emotion. He imagined a scenario that displeased him and watched his features furrow. He hypothesized success and watched his face lighten. They were subtle, admittedly subdued, but still present as he felt they always had been.

Mercury's mugging to himself was certainly odd, but to those on the other side of the one-way mirror, it was the least of his strange behaviour. As the door opened Urchin and Jessica's attention fell swiftly onto Angela, though the former kept nervously glancing back at the subject in the room. There were others within the observation room, specifically a neuro-specialist and bio-engineer, though they seemed even less concerned than Angela herself. It was these individuals she addressed first.

"It seems the conditioning was a success," she crossed her arms as she addressed the specialist. "Any abnormalities?"

"Not outside parameters," he replied as he watched the computer monitor before him. "Expected fluctuations in the temporal lobe, however the prefrontal cortex shows less aberrations than the previous iteration did."

"Marvelous," Angela smiled.

"You altered his memory?" Urchin uttered.

"Not hardly," Angela turned to look at Mercury through the glass, "we simply adjusted his amygdala. Doctor Alabaster's mind is a keen resource I'd rather not tamper with, but his emotions have caused problems before." Angela placed her hands on her hips as she approached the glass, watching the man milling about within as he pondered to himself. "As much as I appreciate his passion for life and our goals, I can't have our operation jeopardized by petty vendettas and personal stakes."

"Would this qualify Alabaster for the next project?" Jessica asked.

"That remains to be seen," Angela sighed. "Project Barghest is far too sensitive to allow the kinds of setbacks we've encountered with Lazarus. We will have to see if the conditioning is effective before that consideration. After everything he's done, Alabaster will have to earn that privilege."

"But he's not really Alabaster, is he?" Urchin asked, "he's just a clone."

"He's as Alabaster as the last two iterations," Angela shrugged. "He is genetically identical to Geoffrey Alabaster with all the same memories, and mostly brain patterns, of the original and subsequent clones transferred. For all intents and purposes he is the same man."

"Do you think he has the same soul?" Urchin asked, garnering some puzzled looks from Angela and her assistant. He was not usually so philosophical.

"Why don't you check for yourself?" Angela motioned towards the glass. Urchin was visibly uncertain, and swallowed before turning towards the window. His eyes flashed a brief glow, and he seemed to recoil slightly from what he saw. He looked at Angela, his jaw hung slightly, and his eyebrows arched in visible concern. She simply smiled in return.

"You concern yourself with irrelevancy," she said softly as she placed her hand on Urchin's shoulder, causing him to tense up. "Which reminds me, I really must offer my thanks for saving Jessica. It's nice to have someone who is at least somewhat reliable."

"Oh... oh!" Urchin flashed a nervous smile, "why, thank you Mistress!"

"In fact," Angela said, "I have a job for you. A simple yet highly important assignment. One that requires someone I can trust."

"You can trust me!" Urchin chirped, his more typically sycophantic demeanour returning.

"Go to this address," she said, handing him a small note from her pocket, "and 'clean up.' Seize what you can, but destroy it if you must. Leave no evidence." Urchin plucked the note from her fingertips, but as he did Angela's hand didn't pull away. Instead it drifted up towards his face, stopping just at his neck, and the tips of her fingers caressed his skin along the scar that still lingered, causing him to tense up. "Succeed, and I'll give you your true voice back."

"Then I will succeed!" Urchin said happily. He bowed, then all but bounded out of the observation room. Jessica sighed, adjusted her glasses, and approached Angela.

"I'm sure Urchin will perform admirably," Jessica's tone slightly betrayed her incredulity.

"He doesn't have to," Angela said, "he just needs to perform, period. The next iteration will be ready soon."

"It's ready now," Jessica pointed out as she presented the clipboard she was carrying, "the data we've gathered has been applied, and initial tests of its ability are promising." Jessica handed it to her, "of course your final approval is all that matters."

"Quite," Angela nodded as she looked over the results, "amusing, wouldn't you say? This upcoming iteration, given what we've just been discussing?"

"I can see the correlation," Jessica said. "Given the superficial similarities, one could find that amusing, as you say." Angela sighed through a smile at her assistant's steadfast lack of any sense of humour.

"I'll evaluate it myself, then," she handed the paperwork back to Jessica. "This particular iteration needs to be particularly effective given its function. It demands a higher level of scrutiny that only myself and our target possesses." Jessica nodded, adding the paper back to her clipboard, only for her gaze to linger a moment. Angela noticed this uncharacteristic hesitation, and turned to her assistant. "Something the matter?"

"Nothing, ma'am," Jessica said, "I simply had a question. It's not relevant, however."

"Hogwash," Angela smiled, "questions are everything in the world of science."

"It is a... private inquiry, though," Jessica said as she glanced at the other men in the room. Angela understood, nodding, and made a slight motion with her hand for Jessica to follow her. The two left the observation room, heading out into the main lab, and down the long corridor towards the administration wing. This is where the project directors and logistics were handled, and was the highest level clearance. Nothing within these walls ever left this sector, and though Jessica was cleared for it, she almost never entered this area. It was here that Angela's real office, even more restricted than her surface-level one, resided. Jessica was led into this place by her employer. Perhaps she knew what her assistant was going to ask, though if she had her suspicions she kept them to herself as she merely stood next to her desk in the dark, simplistic room. Jessica took this silence as her permission to speak.

"I have carefully considered what you told me," she began, "about your true nature. I have also reconsidered the ultimate goal of the project, to engineer an iteration with the proper genetic structure."

"And what have you concluded?" Angela asked, a slight glimmer of a smile on her lips.

"I believe I understand now," Jessica said, "the desire for this ideal iteration. One which matches yourself. Now I understand exactly what you're trying to achieve."

"Astute," Angela nodded, "and correct, of course. Yet you said you had a question, not merely an observation."

"Perhaps I lack the scientific aptitude," Jessica adjusted her glasses, "but seeing the iterations of Doctor Alabaster caused me to wonder: why not simply clone yourself? Would your own genetic material not be the closest match?" Angela's faint smile grew, widening as her white teeth emerged from beneath her dark red lipstick.

"I'm very glad you asked that," Angela said. She glanced up at her assistant, "perhaps it's time you meet 'the girls.'" Jessica's eyebrows raised slightly, and Angela once more wordlessly beckoned her. They approached the rearmost wall of the office, itself decorated only by a single line down the center. A seam, most obviously, but as Angela approached she turned towards her desk that sat before it. The leftmost section swung up as she approached, and there were two large levers. The first she pulled activated unseen, but audible, locks in the door they had entered. The next lever was pulled, and the doors encompassing the back wall began to part. The room inside was unlit save for the ethereal, white glow of its contents. Aligned to the walls were two rows of large, clear tanks. Suspended within liquid in each one was some kind of creature. Each was different, though similar in some regards, and all were varying degrees of misshapen. As Jessica looked closer she believed them to be iterations, but something was amiss. They looked nothing like the creatures she knew, and seemed to be at different stages of development, albeit all severely deformed.

"To answer your question," Angela spoke in a low, severe tone, "I did." She placed a hand on one of the tubes. The creature inside was still, and resembled the bent form of a large wolf, with one shrivelled limb and an emaciated lower body. "In fact, it was my very first attempt over twenty years ago. I made six-hundred and thirty-nine attempts, but only the eight you see here made it beyond the embryonic stage." Angela's hand clenched on the glass's surface. "Not a single one managed to take a breath of its own, however."

"What went wrong?" Jessica asked.

"I can't say," Angela sighed. "For some reason, no matter how hard I tried, I could not successfully replicate my own genetic structure despite using my own cells. Despite being perfect genetic copies, they all lacked an essential piece of anatomy that resulted in premature termination." Angela looked at each one of the tubes with a solemn glare. "Each one is a part of me, and each one died long before it had a chance to live."

"Then how did the iteration process begin?" Jessica approached one of the tanks.

"The old-fashioned way," Angela said. She held up her right index figure, and her assistant watched with subtle discomfort as the nail slowly began to grow into a claw. "I may not be able to clone myself, but humans- even wolfmen -are a different story." The claw retracted back into the shape of a normal human fingernail as Angela rubbed it against her thumb. "Once I had a pup, it was much easier to experiment in that regard. It was a shortcut, of sorts, to better understand the bridge between science and the supernatural. It was so easy I started to wonder just what I could really create with this knowledge. Yet there is still one caveat that eludes me..."

"Which is?" Jessica turned to face her.

"The human-based iterations are an essential part of the plan," Angela mused, "but they're not the end goal. Necessary steps, but ideally I want something more than just..." her gaze drifted between the different tanks, lingering on each of the failed clones that hung motionless within. Eventually her head turned back to the tank before her, revealing her reflection. Angela's expression was blank, her eyes unnaturally still as they had been before. It was as though her face were a doll's, a mask, eerily lifelike but unnervingly lacking that imperceptible glint of humanity. Then the hint of life returned, her features livened, animating once more into the same placid smile she often bore as she turned to her assistant once again.

"Does that answer your question?" She asked.

"Yes," Jessica nodded. "It answered quite a bit."

Chapter 8: No Escape

Chapter Text

"I told you," Kyle replied defensively, "I don't want anything!"

"No, I mean..." Erin stopped them along the stone path of the park. She turned to face him, her tone much more serious. "Broadly speaking, what is it you want?"

"You first," Kyle said, holding her hands at waist level. "What do you want most in life?"

"Hmmm," she swayed back and forth. "I want... a farmhouse on a hill, with pine trees surrounding the property."

"Oddly specific," Kyle pointed out.

"Okay, now your turn," she said.

"I already have what I want," he held her hands up to his chest, "I have you." Erin took one of her hands, formed it into a point, and pushed it against her head as she pantomimed shooting herself.

"Come on," she laughed. "Barf. Sweet, but barf. Come up with a real answer!"

"Okay fine," Kyle said, now doing his own version of her swaying motion. "I want... my job back."

"Oh baby," she said, suddenly feeling guilty. "I didn't mean..."

"No, no, it's fine!" He said, trying to assuage her concern. "I just meant like in a tangential way I miss it, y'know? I miss the work, not the job, if that makes sense."

"I know," Erin kissed him once. "I didn't mean to bring the conversation down."

"You're fine,'" he insisted. "Besides, my real answer is: to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Kyle..." Erin began.

"No, I'm serious," Kyle said, and still holding her hands, got down onto one knee. Erin felt her heart begin to race, her body frozen as he reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out a small, black velvet box. He opened it, and Erin felt her hands begin to shake.

"Do I even have to ask?" Kyle said with an awkward grin. Erin couldn't contain herself. She started to smile, even as tears welled in her eyes. Kyle took the ring, held her trembling hand, and slid it onto her finger.

"I...!" Erin began, elated beyond words.

"I guess I should've waited for an answer before putting it on," he rubbed the back of his neck, "but I feel like you're-" Kyle looked at her quizzically. Erin was still frozen, but her smile had faded, and her breathing had quickened. She tried to speak, but words didn't escape, and her eyes had drifted off of Kyle and past him into the darkness behind them. He followed her gaze to see what she was fixated on: two barely noticeable glimmers in the dark, next to the bushes. It was almost impossible to see, but they moved subtly. Kyle slowly began to turn towards it, even as the glinting seemed to move in their direction. There was a low, guttural sound, like the heavy breathing of an animal, a dark mass extending from the bushes under the streetlamp. It was huge, covered in thick fur, and its eyes were so dark they disappeared under the contrast. Its breath was visible in the cool evening air, and saliva dripped from below the glinting of its eyes.

"Stay calm," Kyle whispered to her as the animal approached. It almost looked like a bear, but broader. Its face was elongated, and Erin realized it was some kind of dog; at least until it stood up.

Without hesitation, Erin grabbed Kyle and pulled him away, just as the creature lashed out. It missed him by mere inches, its claws gleaming in the lamplight as time slowed. Erin watched the beast move as if in slow motion, and she used this to her advantage as she struck out with a kick. Her heel embedded into its face, crunching its bone, and sent the monster tumbling back. Erin didn't wait for it to hit the ground, and she leapt onto it mid-air as she dug her claws into its flesh and fur. It howled as she pinned it to the ground, its twisted canine face tensed in an agonized expression. Erin ripped at its flesh, tearing it apart, growling and baying like she was an animal herself. Spurred by fear, fueled by hatred, she obliterated the monster for even thinking about hurting Kyle. She wouldn't allow that. Not ever. It had to pay for what it did.

Erin stepped back from the bloodied mess strewn about the pathway. Bushes and grass were painted red. Even the lamp above had been stained, casting its light through a filter that bathed everything below in a crimson hue. Erin turned to see Kyle, backed up against the hedge, watching her with shock and horror. Erin reached out with her bloodied claws. Her hands and fingers were thick, black, and tipped with razor sharp hooked nails. These weren't the hands she had before. She had transformed, and she looked at her left bicep where the Assembler was affixed. She felt her face, her slick hands caressing the smooth exterior of the helmet. Of course Kyle was afraid, he didn't recognize her.

Erin tugged at the helmet. She had to take it off, had to show him it was her. She tried to speak, but her voice was distorted. More distorted than it ever was before, an unintelligible metallic growl. The helmet had to come off. She pulled, gripped the edge by her neck, slammed it with her fists. She either had to remove it or destroy it. She clawed at it, fighting it even as her fiance watched in confusion, unsure whether to run from the thing that had just torn the fake apart. Erin slammed her fists into the helmet, cracking it, pulling at the seams, ripping it apart layer by layer, until it was off. Now Kyle could see her face, understand it was her, but as she looked into the eyes of the man she loved, his expression was abject terror. Erin couldn't understand.

She looked down at the sheds of broken metal and polymer, at the opaque visor that normally concealed her face, now broken in two on the ground, and saw her reflection. Backlit by the red light above her, the shape of her head was wrong. It was elongated, her ears pointed at the top of her head, and her eyes dimly glowed a solid, sickly yellow. She opened her mouth, razor sharp fangs glistening, and she began to weep. But her cries were mangled, inhuman, and Kyle only seemed to react in fear as she desperately tried to explain. She reached out to him, hoping to grasp him, to hold him one last time. If she could only touch him again it would all be fine. Erin tried to hold Kyle in her hands, only for her claws to sink right into his flesh. They passed through him with ease, like a knife through butter, and Erin watched as her claws carved through him as he stared back at her.

She screamed. She screamed so loud it woke herself up, and it quickly devolved into wailing as she rolled to one side of her bed. Panic overtook her and she tumbled out, tangled in her sheets, trying to run from the nightmare she just escaped.

Erin heaved, trying to catch her breath, shaking and confused. She was sweating, her hands were clammy, and she felt dry in the mouth. A moment later the door to her bedroom swung open and Mahi burst in, his expression panicked.

"What happened?" He asked, quickly kneeling next to Erin to help her stand. Her legs were twisted into the sheets, stopping her from standing, so Mahi simply lifted her back up and onto the bed.

"What time is it?" She asked, clutching her head.

"Five thirty," he replied, sitting next to her as she undid the tangle around her feet. "I was actually coming to wake you up. It'll be dark soon."

"Thanks," Erin said as she swung her legs out of bed. She was about to stand when Mahi placed his hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Nightmares came back?" He asked. She clutched her hands on her knees.

"They never left," Erin sighed, exhausted just thinking about it. Her body still trembled, her muscles felt sore like she had just ran a marathon, and worst of all she was hungry. That shameful, reprehensible hunger for that certain something that could not have hit her at a worse time. Suddenly she felt an arm over her shoulders as Mahi shifted closer, and immediately Erin felt the trembling slow. It was soothing.

"Let me investigate Hartwell's place," he said, "you've had a busy week."

"I can do it," she said, pulling herself away as she stood up slowly.

"When was the last time you actually slept at night?" Mahi asked, "and I know it's a touchy subject, but you're not eating enough. If you want to keep at this you're gonna need some sustainable intake." Erin didn't answer, instead she simply walked towards her dresser where the pendant sat, with the Assembler resting next to it. She picked up the small pouch on its cord and hung it around her neck. Erin hesitated as she looked at the device. It always seemed smaller until she picked it up, its edges overtaking her palm, but it was not so large in Mahi's grip as he placed his own hand on top of it. "Let me go there. I can slip in and out without ever being seen."

"This is what I wanted," Erin uttered as she placed her hand on top of his, gently pulling the Assembler out from under his grip. "He's right, I chose this."

"Then at least let me come with," Mahi leaned in to catch her eye, "at bare minimum I can help look around."

"Alright," Erin sighed, though it wasn't in defeat. Truth was she was still tired, physically and mentally. She wondered if it would be good to have an extra set of eyes in case she overlooked something.

"Radical," Mahi smiled. "Honestly, I need the exercise." He patted his stomach with a sly grin, "gotta fight back against the winter weight, y'know?"

"Right," Erin chuckled. It felt strange to laugh, even a little, with what she had just gone through. What she continued to go through. This brief shift in mood was apparently noticeable, and as always, Mahi seemed to be acutely aware.

"It's okay to laugh sometimes," he said, as if reading her mind, "it's not disrespectful."

"It feels like it, though," Erin turned away from the dresser, and from Mahi. "I don't mean this to sound so melodramatic, but it doesn't feel like I have any right to be... happy. Not yet, at least."

"What did you do that makes you so undeserving?" He asked, "why shouldn't you be happy once in a while?"

"Because I survived," Erin said plainly, "and he... he didn't."

"That's not the right way to look at it," Mahi stepped in front of her. He gently took her hand in his own, holding it up with her fingers on top. The burn mark on her ring finger was still there, faint, but obvious up close. "Trust me when I say this, because I know it feels like it, but surviving someone doesn't make you guilty."

"But why did it have to be me?" She asked, feeling her eyes begin to well, "he was the one who pushed me out of the way, and because of that-" Erin felt herself choke, and was forced to stop herself from letting it all pour out. She didn't want to break down again. "If I had been the one to act first, maybe Kyle would've survived instead. Maybe he would've been able to live long enough for Luke to get there when he did..."

"Do you blame him?" Mahi asked.

"Of course not," Erin shook her head, "I'm sure Luke came as fast as he could."

"I wasn't talking about him," Mahi said softly. Tears streamed down Erin's cheeks as she bit her lip. She tightened her grip on Mahi's hand as she began to tremble.

"I know why he did it," she muttered, "and it was the right thing to do... but if I knew then what I'd end up going through..." Erin began to sob, unable to hold it back any longer as she looked up at Mahi with pain in her eyes. "I wish we could've just gone together."

Mahi put his arms around her, holding her tightly, and Erin continued to weep. She cried, nestling into his shirt, and for a single selfish moment pretended it was him. Pretended, if only in the most superficial way, that he was back. Yet at the same time she knew it wasn't, and as soon as the thought entered she pulled back, turning away from Mahi as he seemed confused at the sudden aversion. He likewise turned his gaze away, a somber look on his normally upbeat freckles face.

"I'm sorry," he uttered, "I didn't mean... what I'm trying to say is I wasn't-"

"It's alright," Erin reigned it back, sniffling as she wiped the tears on her sleeve, "it's me. I'm just tired and emotional, and I said something I shouldn't have."

"You can say anything you want around me," Mahi said, "don't apologize for feeling the way you do. I know it's not what you implied."

"No," Erin took a breath, "but it's what I've thought of." She looked at Mahi, his eyes a surprisingly bright emerald green. It was just off of a natural shade, the only potential giveaway that he wasn't entirely as he seemed, but from his tanned skin, his dark blonde hair, and the softness of his eyes, all she could see was a man who was open. His youthful complexion hid the subtle creases next to his eyes, and the corners of his mouth. It was the face of someone who smiled often, which made his solemn expression that much more distressing, and Erin had caused it. "I won't give up. I owe it to him."

"I'm glad," Mahi smiled softly. Erin found it easy to smile back, all of a sudden.

"I'll meet you out there," she said, glancing towards the door, "I just need to change."

"Oh," Mahi soon realized, "yeah, of course." He quickly turned and opened the door, carefully closing it behind himself as he left, and Erin was alone once more. She waited a moment, almost as if to make sure he wouldn't come back, then held the small velvet pouch around her neck in her palm.

Erin knew it was stupid, but she did it anyway. She wanted to, just one more time, and she didn't care how much it hurt. She undid the small string binding the opening and dropped the ring into her hand. It immediately began to burn, like a hot coal, but she bore it as she picked the ring up in her fingers. It seared the tips, and she began to wince and seethe as she slid it over there ring finger. It hurt so much, burned so badly her skin began to smoke, but she wanted so badly to wear it again. If only for a moment. She looked at the ring on her hand, but the sentiment was marred by her red and blistering flesh. Erin couldn't stand it any longer and pulled the ring off, placing it back in the pouch before clutching her hand. It felt like she had just picked up a boiling kettle by the sides. Yet Erin already felt the pain subsiding. The curse that hurt her so much also protected her in many ways, and after a minute her agony had soothed, and her skin returned to normal. Except of course the small burn mark where the band had made contact on that day. Erin recalled how Luke explained his own wounds. The ones that covered his body, accrued over centuries of fighting, were only kept because he sustained them in his true wolf form. Multiple lifetimes spent suffering. Erin wondered if the scar on her finger, operating under the same logic, meant she was more wolf than woman. Her gaze drifted to the Assembler. A device that, in its current state, was designed to only work with a certain individual. A device that, in a moment of desperation, had acknowledged her.

"Guess that answers my question," Erin uttered softly to herself. She let out a deep sigh through her nose. Introspection was a commodity she couldn't indulge in at that moment. Not when there was work to be done. Erin quickly got dressed into fresh clothes, made sure her necklace was tucked in, and grabbed the Assembler. She held it to her bicep as it affixed itself. Luke always just kept it in his pocket, like it was as trivial as a lighter, and perhaps that was all the precaution he needed given his experience and skill. Erin, however, was more paranoid. She wanted it ready, with a Lycan Shot loaded, and only a button push away if need be. It was all still new to her, and she didn't want to risk precious seconds fumbling with it if she were ever ambushed. It was uncomfortable, the securing band held very tightly when not transformed, but it was also just compact enough to fit into the sleeve of her coat. She grabbed that very coat from the back of the chair that sat in the corner and left her room, and almost bumped into Mercer as she did.

"Pardon me," he said before she could. Erin was about to apologize as well before she noticed something missing.

"Hey," Erin smiled, "you're up and about without the cane?"

"I can make short trips," Mercer said as they walked together down the hall. "I'm healing well, and I don't want to become reliant on the crutch." Erin noticed he still moved with a slight limp, and the doctor seemed to acknowledge this, "I'm not as young as I once was. I'm prepared for the possibility that I won't regain full use."

"You seem to be doing fine to me," Erin reassured him. Something about seeing Mercer this way, a man not so much old as merely older than herself, reminded her of her father. He was even older than the doctor, and had likewise suffered a grave injury. In all that had happened she had forgotten to call her parents in a few days.

"You'll be investigating Hartwell's residence?" Mercer asked, "it's wise to go at night. The weather will provide additional cover."

"I'm just hoping we find something that explains why he was a target," Erin said. "If he was involved with CB,and that's if, then there's no way they left him with anything sensitive." Erin looked at her watch. It had been only six hours since the fight, and only three of those were spent asleep. Ignoring her fatigue, that was a lot of time for Celestial to act. Angela had already appeared on television, the police were already investigating. It was only on Luke's advice that they wait till nightfall, as he was adamant that the police wouldn't find anything useful if they 'didn't know what to look for.' Not that Erin felt she was more qualified in that regard.

"You still believe the Commissioner wasn't colluding with Celestial?" Mercer asked.

"I do," Erin nodded, "though I'm open to having my mind changed, it just doesn't feel right. Call it journalistic intuition." Mercer opened his mouth to respond only for the sound of protracted aggravation to catch them just as they entered the main living space.

"Come on, bro," Mahi groaned, waving an empty plastic container, "you could've at least told me you ate them all!"

"I figured you'd realize once you found the empty box," Luke shrugged.

"I was saving these mini doughnuts for movie night," Mahi uttered solemnly.

"I wanted to try them," Luke replied.

"There were twenty in this box!" Mahi said as he tossed the container into the trash bin. "How could you even eat them all so fast?"

"It was a challenge, I'll admit," Luke sighed, "but I never give up." Mahi shot him a bemused glare.

"That, my dude, is what humans call 'inconsiderate,'" the young mer crossed his arms, "we all must share in this household."

"There's a whole fridge full of perfectly good meat," Luke pointed past him. "Help yourself."

"Sure," Mahi sighed as he left the kitchen, "I'll fix myself a nice little plate of salmonella when I get back."

"We got a stove," Luke said, then turned his head towards the hallway opening as though he'd only just then noticed the two entering. It was still strange for Erin to see him caught unawares, even if it was in a subtle way such as this.

"We should be going," Erin said somewhat tepidly.

"We taking the bus, or hoofin' it?" Mahi asked. "We could take the rooftops and cut down a lot of travel time."

"I'm not sure," Erin admitted, "the 'Cyborg Werewolf' is still an unpopular public figure. If I'm spotted in that form someone may call the police, or worse, Celestial's own hotline."

"Bus it is, then," Mahi sighed. Luke simply nodded without looking at her, seemingly agreeing with her call. It was a simple gesture she appreciated.

"Then I'd advocate departing immediately," Mercer said. Without another word the two headed for the door, albeit with Erin lingering only a second as she glanced at the phone. She decided to call her parents when she returned, and followed Mahi out of the apartment, leaving Luke and Mercer alone. The doctor joined him at the kitchen island, pulling up a stool as he sat across from him.

"There's something we need to discuss," Mercer said.

"Yeah," Luke replied, "there is."

Chapter 9: Investigation

Chapter Text

It was a likely possibility that the police would still be at Hartwell's home. The Commissioner lived in an apartment loft downtown, only one story up. It was modestly sized compared to most public officials, and its low level and proximity to the street made it easy for Erin and Mahi to secure a vantage point. The bay windows on the East side gave a clear view into the apartment itself, as well as the two officers indoors. They spoke to a woman, Hartwell's wife, and she seemed understandably distressed. Much as Alex had said, there were two squad cars out front, one occupied with officers, the other most likely belonging to the ones indoors. Hartwell's wife continued to speak with them, eventually nodding, and she seemed to grab some things before leaving with them.

"Bet she's going to visit him in the hospital," Mahi mused, "or maybe even protective custody."

"Either way, we have our opening," Erin pointed. Just as the wife and officers left she took the time to turn off the lights, something she wouldn't do if the officers were planning to investigate. "Guess Alex was right, they're not even planning to look around. They didn't even seem to ask her any questions."

"Suspicious," Mahi said bluntly. He crouched next to her in his legged merman form while she had already changed herself. He ran his thumb and index finger vertically down the gills on his face, seemingly his equivalent of rubbing his chin. "Could mena one of two things; either there's nothing there to find, or it's a trap for any would-be snoopers such as us."

"Glad I'm not the only one who thought that," Erin sighed, "but it's the only way we'll find out why he was targeted. Not like we can just question him ourselves."

"Then follow me," Mahi stood up, "I can get us in." Without hesitation he leapt off the roof, momentarily disappearing into the darkness between the buildings. Erin followed, still new to the incredible physical feats she was now capable of. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop seemed like a fantasy, and without the immediate threat of combat or death, she could almost say she was having fun. This was undercut by her nearly fumbled landing, but the two managed to land silently on the snow-covered rooftop. Mahi knelt down by the skylight, the trapezoidal ceiling fixture had no obvious point of entry, and Erin wondered how they would enter until she saw a bolted lock on the inside. Mahi held his hand next to the pane, running his fingers along the seam as he seemed to feel for something. After a moment his hand began to liquefy. His water-like state seeped through the fine gaps at the base, more of his arm turning fluid until it reached his torso, and eventually his entire form had passed through. It was then a simple matter for him to reform, unlatch the bolt, and allow Erin to enter the dwellings without the need for breaking in.

"I ever tell you how handy you are?" Erin uttered as she dropped down.

"I have my moments," Mahi shrugged humbly.

"I mean it," she turned to him, "for a guy who pretends to be all chill and simple, you sure are resourceful."

"Who says I'm pretending?" Mahi chuckled as they looked about the apartment. Thankfully they both possessed enhanced eyesight, so the apartment being dark posed no real obstacle, and would only help to keep them concealed from potential voyeurs. Mahi was the first to notice the door adjacent to the living room. Sure enough, he opened it to reveal a small yet orderly office.

"I'm not making fun of you," Erin whispered, worried that he might take her comments the wrong way. She immediately began searching the desk whilst Mahi took to a row of short filing cabinets. "It just seems like you're very humble for a guy with your talents."

"Hey, I only just started experimenting with this," Mahi motioned to his legs with his four-digited, webbed hands, "truth be told I never thought too deeply about my gift. I knew the stories Hihio taught me, and I used them for healing, but it wasn't until recently that I thought they could do anything else." Mahi's already low whisper dropped slightly as he seemed to shift in tone, "this is the longest I've ever been away from the ocean and my family."

"It bothers you, doesn't it?" Erin asked as she carefully searched the folders tucked into the desk's drawers. "I guess that's really what I'm asking."

"Ola asked me the same, once," Mahi whispered as he knelt down to search the cabinets. "I'm not going anywhere till this is done. Besides, it's thanks to my gift that I can even do this. A normal Mer wouldn't survive separated from the ocean for so long. Luckily I'm basically part of the ocean myself, in a way."

"I guess," Erin uttered, not quite accepting his answer. She sighed as she closed the folder, "the only evidence I've seen so far is that Hartwell really is on the up-and-up. Nothing even remotely shady, let alone tied to CB."

"You're telling me," Mahi closed the cabinet drawer, "dude even pays his taxes on time. Guess not all public officials are sketchy."

"Maybe that's why he was a target, then," Erin uttered. "He was too good. Couldn't be bought or threatened, so he had to be taken out."

"Not to sound harsh," Mahi turned to her, "but if that's the case, why not just assassinate him? Why turn him into a fake?"

"Continue the hysteria?" Erin wondered aloud, "keep the people thinking that there's a threat that needs dealing with? Maybe shake public opinion of those in charge, if even they aren't 'safe?'" Erin rested her palm against the side of her helmet, "would that even be a lie at this point?"

"But Alex told you he was in full support of CB?" Mahi asked, "and even if he wasn't, he was retiring soon, right?"

"Yeah," Erin picked up papers to the left of his desk. They were government documents, "which, going off these details for his pension plan, was accurate." That's when Erin noticed something.

"What's up?" Mahi asked, picking up on her sudden silence.

"These payment amounts," Erin rooted around for the folder she had read before, "Hartwell wasn't collecting his pension in a lump sum, he was planning to have it paid out."

"As a comfortably unemployed merperson, I may be mistaken," Mahi whispered, "but that's to avoid paying extra taxes, right? The higher the income sum, the more you pay?"

"True," Erin found the folder she needed, "but the amounts are the same as another statement I saw." She thumbed through the papers. Bank records, post-dated, and each corresponding to the same deposits from his pension. "Wait, this isn't a pension at all."

"Then what is it?" Mahi asked.

"A change of employment," Erin continued to read, "Hartwell was retiring from the force, but he wasn't retiring from work. These statements are going back into a government account."

"Does it say what the account was for?" Mahi leaned in to look for himself.

"No," Erin squinted. She didn't know enough about finances or government operations to say exactly what she was looking at, and the accounts were labelled in acronyms she didn't recognize. Hartwell was a careful, if even paranoid, man. "Whatever it was, it was above board, and he's been planning it for at least a year."

"Hey," Mahi snapped his finger before standing back up, "you know what we didn't find?" Erin glanced up at him, and Mahi's solid white eyes co*cked a quizzical look, "don't all humans have something called a birth certificate?"

"Maybe he keeps it somewhere else?" Erin wondered, "like the bedroom, or a cabinet somewhere?"

"A man this organized?" Mahi motioned to the room full of neatly ordered, and comprehensive documents. "Seems there's everything in this office except for the sensitive and irreplaceable." Mahi then turned to the walls. The room consisted of a desk, three filing cabinets, a tall bookshelf, an old radiator, a swivel chair, and a stack of old document boxes. There were also two paintings, which he searched behind, only to find nothing. He then turned his sights to the floor, and that's when he seemed to reach his conclusion as he knelt down next to the radiator.

"This building may be old," Mahi explained as he pointed to the long appliance running against the back wall, "but it's been brought into the modern era enough to include baseboard heating, meaning there's no reason to keep the radiator around." Mahi felt along the edge of the old wall-mounted heating unit and, after a small click, swung the false radiator out on a hinge. Behind it was a door, possibly an old dumbwaiter hatched, which Mahi slid open to reveal a safe.

"Nice one!" Erin exclaimed as quietly as she could. "Can you crack it?"

"I can," Mahi nodded, "but why don't you?"

"I'd rather not break it," Erin held up her hand.

"You don't have to," he replied, then took Erin's hand and placed it on the knob of the safe. "With your senses you should be able to crack it easily."

"Uh, okay," Erin said, a bit off guard as he placed her other palm on the door. He didn't take his hand off of hers, instead gently keeping it against the door as he guided her other hand to rotate the knob.

"Go slowly," he explained, "and feel the vibrations. One notch at a time until you feel the first click." Sure enough, Erin slowly turned until there was a subtle, yet distinct, feeling of movement within. Mahi nodded, "now the opposite direction, same deal."

"Okay," she exhaled her words, focusing on the feeling. Once the next click was felt, she turned the opposite direction once more, eking each notch until the final, and most audible click was felt. She then turned the handle, opening the safe.

"Radical!" Mahi whispered, and Erin felt a jolt of elation. This felt so much different than her other teachings. Her new strength and senses weren't just for combat, but had practical, non-lethal uses. Erin wondered why she hadn't thought of something like this before.

"Let's see," she uttered, examining the contents of the safe. It was about the size of a minifridge, with several items inside. There were some jewels, a gun safe, the aforementioned birth certificates and other sensitive pieces of identity, as well as a few more folders. Erin and Mahi each took one, reading through them.

"Looks like old, classified cases," Mahi continued to read, "sting operations, wiretapping, classic detective movie stuff. Cool."

"That's nothing," Erin said as she continued reading through the other folders, "Hartwell was changing jobs alright. Party registers, advertising agencies, campaign managers..."

"He's running for office?" Mahi asked, "we talkin' city hall?"

"Try State Senator," Erin held the papers for Mahi to see as they continued to read. The campaign was practically already done, if these documents were anything to go by. Much was in order, and Hartwell had apparently planned to announce his running at his official retirement party.

"This must be it," Mahi said, "but why? Why would Hartwell running for Senator make him a target? Unless...?"

"Unless he was competition," Erin said. The implication was clear and unavoidable. Hartwell wasn't just a threat because he had a moral compass, he was vying for a position Celestial wanted.

"No way," Mahi uttered, "since when has Angie cared about politics? She already basically runs this city."

"I have no idea," Erin replied, clutching the chin of her helmet, "but if she does this much damage as a CEO, imagine what kind of shady stuff she'll do in office." She turned to Mahi, "or better yet, she could put one of her puppets there and reap the benefit of private industry and political control."

"I liked it better when she just made monsters," Mahi sighed.

"We shouldn't jump to any conclusions," Erin said, placing the folders back, "still... if it's true-"

"Wait..." Mahi held up a finger. Erin went silent, unsure what was wrong. Mahi wordlessly motioned towards the door, holding his finger to where his mouth would be. Erin nodded. Someone was here. Someone who was quiet enough that she hadn't noticed, which was no easy feat. That alone was enough to put them on edge as Mahi carefully approached the doorway. It was still nearly dark, only a light ambience from the street lamps and diffused moonlight gave any visibility at all, even for them. Someone not only entered unheard, but could move in likewise dark conditions. As Mahi leaned slowly to peer into the apartment, an unsettling hunch overcame Erin. There's no way their voices weren't heard, let alone the rummaging of papers. The intruder must know where they are. Mahi either didn't sense this or was too slow to stop the skewers from piercing into him from above.

"Mahi!" Erin shouted. The young mer was impaled by long, thin spikes that cut into the flesh between his neck and shoulders. Stunned and in pain, he buckled, falling to the floor as the spines retracted. Erin rushed towards him just as a large black mass descended from above the doorway and fired something at her. Several tiny projectiles hit her in the chest and arms, piercing even the toughened membrane of her second skin. They burned, but not from the punctures. This was some kind of venom, one she had felt before.

"Ah, the woman," Urchin said as he rose up from one knee, "and the merman. I have to say, I was expecting the other one." Urchin held up the long sleeves of his coat, the needle-like tips of his fingers extending out, "you know, the short guy? Looks like an unmade bed?" Erin didn't answer. She could only focus on Mahi, who struggled to stand on the floor. He was bleeding, and looked weak. Erin herself felt dazed as well, even after he plucked the barbs from her body. They took small chunks out of her, and didn't seem to heal. It hurt more than it should.

"Bad luck for you guys," Urchin continued, "my venom is significantly more potent than before, enough to poison even the shaggy man." He watched as Erin slumped to the side of the doorway, still clutching at nothing as her arms began to seize up. Urchin winced dramatically, "perhaps a bit overkill for you two, in fact."

"Tell us," Mahi uttered as he managed to bring himself up to one knee, "Hartwell's political campaign, he got taken out for it, right?"

"Ah, yes," Urchin ran an elongated nail across his pointed chin, "let me take this time to inform you of all the details of our nefarious schemes." Urchin swung with his nails, slicing at the ground where Mahi only moments ago occupied. The young mer rolled away, still bleeding and disoriented, and Erin took her chance. She charged, but was already feeling the effects of the venom, and blundered past Urchin as he easily side-stepped.

"I'm actually very glad you came here," he chirped, "constantly belittled for my failure to kill the werewolf, but if I kill you," he turned to Erin, who propped herself up on the side of a sofa, "imagine how livid Mercury will be if stupid, useless, fool Urchin kills the woman who beat him twice!" Urchin stopped, pondering once more as Erin still fought just to stand. "Though I guess now he won't really care. That's... vexing."

Glass shattered as Urchin screamed, hit over the head with a standing lamp. The tall, thin intruder seethed and cried as he clutched the back of his head, Mahi holding the lamp by its post like a bat, unsteady on his feet. Erin pushed off the sofa, trying to fight past the numbing effects of the toxin, but she could already feel her muscles seizing. It was like being frozen without the cold. Mahi raised the lamp for another blow, only to lose his grip as he stumbled back. They were succumbing to the venom too quickly, as if movement exacerbated its spread, even as Urchin continued to clutch his head in pain as he whimpered expletives.

"You're always so cruel to me!" He uttered, "just because I can't throw a punch, because I don't stand up for myself, you all just think I'm weak, don't you?" Erin didn't respond, partially because she couldn't, but mostly because she had no idea what to say to something like that.

"Push me around all you want," he continued, "treat me like a lap dog, but my power is a slow killer. You may have strength and speed, but can you outrun a poison? Can you fight back an illness?" Urchin's insipid rambling seemed incoherent, as if he wasn't even speaking to them, his gaze somewhere between the two as he launched into a rant, "if you had all just treated me with a little respect, this all could've been avoided! We could have gotten along, could've done the things friends and coworkers do."

"I think I hit him too hard," Mahi uttered.

"Silence!" Urchin snapped, kicking Mahi in the gut and knocking the Mer back into a cabinet. "That's how it always is, every single time! Every time you look down on me, all of you! Every one of you are the same, except for-" A couch cushion hit Urchin in the side of the head, the only thing Erin could reach for, and it was such a weak throw that it hardly even phased him. Instead the thin man turned his long face, the tassels of his equally tall hat bobbing as his expression was null.

"You..." Erin struggled to move her jaw, "have... issues."

"Yes, well," Urchin took a deep breath, composing himself, "at least I still have a pulse."

"Erin?" A voice came over the radio in her helmet. It was Mercer, "Erin! What's happening? I just got to my computer and your vitals are spiking!"

"Venom..." she uttered through gritted teeth. Urchin stood before her, elongated nails held aloft.

"You know," he said, "I never did repay you for what you did to me in that park. Your treachery cost me an arm, and even after it grew back I could still feel the pain for weeks."

"Him again?" Another, calmer voice entered Erin's ear through the radio. It was Luke this time, and he sounded remarkably unconcerned.

"They've been infected with a neurotoxin," Mercer explained to him, "one potent enough that it's causing paralysis." Erin believed it. She felt like she was sinking into cement that hardened around her. Her nerves were dulled, even her hearing and vision were fading. She could only just see Mahi standing off to one side, but how he even managed to stay on his feet she couldn't understand. His stab wounds had begun to heal as well, or at least stopped bleeding, and that's when Erin saw that he wasn't just standing idly. He held his hands up, as if concentrating, his flesh undulating the way it would if he were to change states. It seemed almost like some kind of meditation, but whatever it was took longer than she had as Urchin stood over her, razor sharp nails ready to be brought down.

"Erin, listen to me," Luke's voice was even tempered, "you have to fight it. Force yourself to move."

"Try-" Erin could hardly form a word, "trying-! It... hurts!"

"Let it hurt," he explained. "Let the toxin course through you doing as much damage as it can. It'll be painful, but you can heal from whatever it does, but only once it's run through your system."

It was easier said than done. Erin could hardly flinch as the nails sliced across her chest, through the membrane, her clothes beneath, and into her skin. The pain was sharp, searing for a moment, only to dull. The sudden absence of pain could only mean she was dosed with more toxin, and with twice as much in her system now, she'd be paralyzed in seconds. Urchin's face twisted into a sad*stic grin, pleased with her obvious suffering, and pulled his hand back with the nails poised to impale her.

"I wonder," he hissed, "just how protective is that helmet?" His grin widened, his arm reared back, and then lunged forward as the nails shot towards her eyes.

The tips stopped millimeters from her visor. Urchin's arm trembled as Erin clutched the nails in her hand, her whole arm shaking as she struggled to hold it back. The pain of moving her arm was nearly worse than the cut on her chest, but she had moved it. Like ripping through her own muscles, she fought through the pain as Luke had said, and now the feeling was back. She forced her other arm forward, clutching Urchin's wrist, once again fighting the paralysis in the process. It burned, but with the pain came sensation. It was working.

"How-?" Urchin uttered in disbelief. His confusion turned to rage as he held his other hand aloft, ready to attack, only for his wrist to be grabbed. Mahi clutched his arm in one hand, his eyes narrowed to a glare. He moved with ease, suddenly unaffected by the toxin, and Erin soon saw why. The wounds he received didn't bleed, but something still spurted from them. The venom was being ejected, separated and carried through his body and expelled as clear liquid. Mahi gripped Urchin so tightly Erin could hear a crunching noise, only for the merman to fling him across the apartment. Mahi stood, his breathing laboured, but free of the toxin.

"Hold on," he said as he turned to Erin, "I can remove the venom from you, too." He knelt down next to her, holding his hand up to her wound, but before Erin could even make a sound Urchin leapt towards him, kicking Mahi in the face and sending him flying back into the office.

"I told you!" He screamed, "I won't be pushed around anymore! I won't be thrown, beaten, or treated like garbage by anyone! Certainly not the likes of you, fish man!" Urchin charged into the room faster than Erin could process. This fervor was unexpected, and though Mahi didn't seem badly hurt, he was stunned by the sheer ferocity. Urchin moved fast, lashing out with more kicks from his long, skinny legs, which Mahi couldn't dodge in the cramped confines. He could only block, taking hits to his arms and legs, until finally Urchin delivered a blow with power in the form of a knee to Mahi's stomach, forcing him to double over. Urchin seemed satisfied with his hit, enough to shift his attention to the office desk.

"And look at that," he uttered, plucking a piece of paper from the pile and stuffing it into his jacket, "seems my work here is do-" Urchin was cut off as he was suddenly jumped by Erin, who grappled him. Rather than hold him directly, however, she instead held one of the couch cushions in each hand, sandwiching the scrawny man in between them.

"Really?" Urchin scoffed, "pillows? You don't think I can't puncture these as well?"

"No," Erin said, "I don't think you can." Urchin sneered as he took that bet, deploying the barbs from his body, only to find that they couldn't penetrate the upholstery. He tried again, retracting and deploying his quills all over where the cushions made contact, but once again they were ineffective. "I wondered... just how my skin can deflect bullets, but somehow be punctured by your quills? Even the armour on my chest can block a fake's claws, but not your spindly little nails? Then it hit me-" Erin punctuated her sentence by slamming Urchin into the door frame, his elongated head snapping on his twiggy neck. "It's the venom. It weakens and burns our flesh as it punctures, but doesn't affect inorganic substances, like these cushions."

"My quills can't penetrate a stupid couch cushion?" Urchin asked incredulously, unaware that the even pressure of his many quills created a bed of nails effect on the cushions. Each one applied equal force over a large surface, robbing the spines of their ability to puncture deep, which Erin had deliberately bet on. Urchin continued to struggle, but without his toxin it was now down to a test of his strength versus hers. A test that Erin could easily pass. With Urchin subdued, and Erin having fought off the toxin in her body, that left Mahi completely free. He got to his feet, rocking his neck back and forth, cracking it. Urchin was visibly panicked as Mahi likewise cracked his knuckles, then swiftly punched the skinny man in the nose.

"That was for Genmu," Mahi sighed, "now we can have ourselves a nice little talk."

"Hit him again," Luke said over the radio, "it's funny."

"What are you here for?" Erin asked, ignoring the request, "why was Hartwell a target?"

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Urchin spoke even as his nose bled into his lips, "as if I'd crack under this pressure."

"Listen, we could just knock you out," Mahi explained, "and fish whatever you stole out of your jacket, but I'm trying to be nice."

"I'm not," Erin said, squeezing Urchin tighter. He began to gasp.

"We just have a few simple questions," Mahi continued, leaning against the door frame as he sighed through his gills, "we already know why Hartwell was on your radar, he was a political rival, which means your boss wants to run for office." Urchin didn't reply, but his expression told them that Mahi was right, so he continued. "Honestly, politics just seems really... pedestrian for her, so I'm sure it's all just a means to an end, but I've never really been clear on what that end is."

"You want to know, fishman?" Urchin asked, "her immaculateness only desires one, noble thing: a perfect world of balance and sustainability, where people are empowered, in control of their own destinies! It's righteous and-" Erin cut him off with another squeeze right as the air escaped his longs, causing Urchin to wheeze.

"Yeah, didn't think we'd get too far," Mahi shrugged, "it's some rad insight, though. Luke told me you guys drank the punch, but seeing it myself hits different."

"Mock me all you'd like," Urchin's lips trembled, "it's cruel people like you that necessitated this change."

"We're cruel?" Erin asked, "how the hell does creating monsters and killing random people change anything for the better?"

"Well, obviously there's sacrifices," Urchin shrugged, "I mean, there will be suffering temporarily, but once the hunters are separated from the cattle, all will be in bliss." Urchin shuffled enough to turn his head towards Erin, "honestly, you being a pup of an iteration, I'd think you'd see it our way."

"Cattle?" Mahi asked.

"You must struggle with the hunger," Urchin continued speaking to her, "I mean, I don't have that problem myself, but I've seen the iterations and their longing. It's only normal for an animal to want to hunt. It doesn't really go away, does it?"

"Shut up," Erin squeezed again, this time hard. Hard enough that Urchin's eyes bulged and his teeth gritted, hard enough to crush him even as Mahi held a hand up to stop her. Erin could put a permanent end to a pest here and now, and if nothing else, there'd be one less fake in the world to hurt more people. She didn't, though, relaxing her grip just as it seemed he had reached his limit, but soon understood her error.

As soon as she relaxed Urchin slipped out of the cushions, crouching onto all fours and kicking his legs backwards as he slid out between Erin's legs into the living room. Erin turned just in time for more needles to be sent her way, but managed to block them with the cushions. Mahi sprang into action, turning himself into a water jet to lunge towards Urchin, reforming behind him, but the skinny man was too fast. Mahi thrust his arm forward, shooting a water jet into his back and slamming him into the mantle above the fireplace. Mahi and Erin moved towards Urchin, ready to subdue him again, when there was a loud banging on the door.

"Police!" A voice shouted from the other side, "open up!"

"Guess we were noisy neigh-" Mahi was cut off when Urchin sprang up, bounding past them as Erin just barely missed grabbing him. He ran towards the bay window and, without stopping, barrelled through the glass. Erin then heard slamming on the front door as the police attempted to break down the door, Mahi grabbing her shoulder.

"We gotta go," he urged her.

"Wait," Erin said as she pulled away, darting back into the office. She took one last look at the desk, then the safe, and then returned to the living room just as the door broke open. Three officers rushed in, guns drawn, and immediately spotted the two.

"Hands up!" One shouted, "on your knees!"

"Sorry about this, my dudes," Mahi said. He darted towards Erin, grabbed her, and boosted himself away on a water jet towards the window. The officers were left stunned as they watched the two disappear into the night.

Chapter 10: The Game

Chapter Text

The story told indirectly through the archeology within the text was incredible. Every change in handwriting was like a ring in a tree, betraying the book's age and every unique biased slant of its transcriptions. Yet at the same time nothing seemed to be altered or amended, no voice spoken over or stricken from its record. It was a legacy, a lineage, put to paper and preserved for eyes that were far away from being born yet. References to eras that she only had vague knowledge of, a world view unique yet in homage of past practices, like an unspoken truth humans had loathed to admit. Even beyond its practical purpose, it was a historical find, and quite the page-turner.

It was almost disappointing that Angela didn't have more time to read it, what with the hustle and bustle of press meetings intermixed with the advancements made in the sub-labs, all on top of her normal duties as CEO. She could scan every page, absorbing the raw knowledge and content of the writings, and all within minutes. But that would spoil the enjoyment. Like lighting a fine cigar with a gasoline lighter, or chugging a bottle of vino, a book with such a rich history needed to be studied and absorbed. For now, however, she was forced to settle for the practical uses.

"The soul invocation," Angela mused aloud, "tapping into the very essence of the spirit and its energies, manifesting will out of thin air." She continued to read the scripture within, pausing to memorize the spoken segments of the ritual. "Fascinating, wouldn't you say, Jessica?"

"It is," the young assistant nodded, "albeit perhaps beyond my comprehension."

"Don't feel bad," Angela smiled, "much of this world is. Even the minutiae of this process was something I never dreamed of until I came to America. To think an intact human soul could be used to animate a golem in this way."

"But you knew about golems?" Jessica asked.

"I did," she replied, "but across my life I'd only known them as animated clay performing simple commands. Automatons, robots if you will, only Earthen instead of steel, with the collective will of a person or people instead of programming. When I learned of the one hidden within this city, I admit I was surprised..." Angela tilted her head with indecision, "perhaps not so surprised."

"If that's the case," Jessica adjusted her glasses, "would the living golem we monitored be analogous to artificial intelligence? Machines advancing so far beyond their programming, they gain self-awareness?" Angela snapped her finger in the air without looking back.

"A wonderful comparison," she said. "I never would've imagined that it would lead to a find like this, however." Angela gingerly closed the book, leaving it on its pedestal, and stepped back just as a protective glass case was lowered over it. She turned to the altar next to her with its wide basin. Beyond it the room dipped down several steps before continuing on almost a half mile, and stood within orderly rows were hundreds of golems. The replacements for the ones Luke had destroyed. A setback, one that Angela selfishly admitted to herself had irritated her, yet it had revealed a rather serious error in the process. The method of combining ashen vampire remains in a mix to produce the clay of the golems had diminishing returns. With each new sire they created with the obtained vampiric essence, the potency of the turned individuals was reduced. This meant the more vampire offspring they created, the more they needed to mix into the clay in order to keep all the golems not just at equal strength, but equally controllable. The first batch had been largely consistent, but halfway through the second production the quality seemed to drop. It would seem Angela's army was far more finite than she'd hoped.

"Nevertheless," she mused quietly to herself. Angela took her place at the altar, already garbed in the ceremonial robes. She began to chant the ancient scripture beneath her breath, calling on the energy latent within the remains that made up the golems, and still virulent within the blood essence before her. Jessica watched as the liquid within the shallow basin almost glowed as it became a bright, vibrant red, and row by row the eyes of the golems likewise illuminated as an invisible pulse travelled across them. A moment later their mouths all opened in sequence, and on que Jessica activated the system. A grid-like metal frame descended from the ceiling down to the golems' level, each one containing a hand-written instruction on parchment paper. In unison each note was placed into the mouths by small mechanical arms, only for the paper to vanish within as the golems' all closed their mouths. Their eyes ceased to glow, and the gantry retracted. Angela smiled, looking down at the basin before her. The essence within had ceased glowing, yet the liquid still held an ethereal hue, and a moment later the basin tipped on a mechanical base as the blood within drained into a spout, depositing into a vial small enough to fit into her palm. The same vials Mercury used in the Compiler.

"Congratulations," Jessica said, "the ritual is a success."

"Excellent," Angela plucked the vial from the altar, admiring it. "Do you think the ancients who wrote this book would've ever imagined their craft would one day be industrialized?"

"I imagine not," Jessica replied, "though I'll admit, I doubt even the average modern human would have thought science would advance into the realm of sorcery."

"Science, sorcery," Angela placed the vial into a padded case before handing it off to a technician, "the line between the two is constantly blurring. Now faith, that is something else entirely. While we may have automated much of the labour process, it still took a strong faith- my faith- to perform the ritual. A machine will never be able to accomplish that."

"I see," Jessica nodded, "I was not aware you were a believer."

"We are all believers, my dear," Angela mused, "belief is the scaffold within which towers of knowledge are eventually built. Even men and women of science believe, though some may loathe to admit. Every scientific breakthrough had to be dreamt before it was made." Angela looked out to the rows of golems, all a near-perfect replica of her own hand-sculpted template. "Even I believe, Jessica. I believe that sometimes nature gets it wrong. Sometimes the ones who survive aren't always the fittest."

"And this is what you intend to fix?" Jessica asked.

"Yes," she replied, turning back to her assistant, "humans have created a great many things, but none so enviable are their societies. Their systems. For a species with such limited time on this planet, they've ensured a great many things will outlast them. All that knowledge and wisdom passed on through a complex machine of civilization. Imagine what someone with unlimited time could do with such a thing?" She turned her attention towards the far wall where large video screens displayed scrolling information on the many iterations. So many terminated, yet with each one came another piece of the puzzle. A puzzle she was eager to assemble.

Suddenly the main bulkhead doors to the sub-lab opened, catching the attention of many as the flashing lights warned them to stand clear. In this instance, however, it was not heavy machinery or sensitive material entering. It was Mercury, dressed in his overcoat up to his mouth, and making his way directly towards them. He walked so softly his footsteps produced no noise that Jessica could hear. He approached Angela swiftly, dropped to one knee, and held his head low. Jessica raised an eyebrow at the display of humility.

"No need for formalities," Angela smiled, "stand, please."

"As you wish," Mercury stood up. "The next iteration has been deployed. Observational stage has begun."

"Perfect," Angela nodded. "I can't wait to see how it all plays out, don't you?"

"Indeed," Mercury replied, yet his inflection was off. Angela raised a brow as she approached him.

"Do I detect a hint of concern?" She asked, almost playfully so as she stepped toward Mercury. His expression was null, but his eyes averted. Something was bothering him.

"It's nothing relevant," he replied.

"Hogwash," she placed her slender hands on the sleeves of his coat, running them up to his shoulders. "If one of my employees has misgivings I consider it my responsibility to address them." Angela looked up at him, "you can always speak candidly with me."

"I..." Mercury uttered, his expression flickering between confusion and neutrality. "It's nothing, really. I simply wonder what the implicit purpose of this next iteration is. It just seems... too personal. If our goal is simply to destroy Mercer and his group, this seems somewhat convoluted."

Angela laughed. She couldn't help herself. The irony was too much, yet also immensely pleasing. This was the response she expected of the conditioning, the perfect reaction to this situation given what she had intended. Yet her reaction seemed only to confuse Mercury further, and Jessica averted both her gaze and neglected any comment.

"I can see where you're coming from," Angela said, "but I don't want them destroyed, I just want them preoccupied. Truth be told, they're not the main threat to our operation as long as they remain ignorant."

"Urchin ran into the woman and the mermaid," Mercury said, "he retrieved the documents, but not before they had a look around."

"As I said," Angela waved for him to follow as she and Jessica headed towards the bulkhead, "they're not the main threat. It's more important the police, or rather any agency higher than them, get a look at his records." She led them both down the hallway to an elevator and called it. "Hartwell's activation was unfortunate. We don't need the others being discovered just yet."

"Then I suggest moving forward with Lazarus," Mercury said, "allow me to begin the orientation process. The sooner the task force is assembled, the sooner we can start distributing units. That way more iterations can be deployed and we can gather results whilst we position our forces on a larger scale."

"You make a compelling argument," Angela said as the doors parted. All three entered as she tapped the button to return her to her office. After a short trip the doors parted once more. Angela and Jessica quickly made their way to the opposite end of the room while Mercury remained in the elevator.

"I will continue to monitor the next iteration," he said. The doors closed, concealing the elevator as though it were another wall. Angela let out a night-imperceptible sigh before turning to the opposite wall. This one also had a hidden door, though its contents were far more innocuous as it opened to reveal nothing more than a closet and mirror.

"Now that that's settled," Angela asked, picking two coats, one in each hand, "what jacket would you say is appropriate for this weather?"

"I'd say the overcoat with the fur trim," Jessica replied without looking up from her clipboard. "It's expected to drop in the afternoon."

"Good thinking," Angela nodded. "I'm always so bad at these decisions."

"I understand, "Jessica sighed, "if the mayor had just agreed to hold this conference indoors we wouldn't need such concessions."

"True," Angela placed the jacket she hadn't chosen back into the closet, "on the plus side, such humbling situations are good PR. The image of me braving the elements to deliver this news reinforces my dedication." She held the winning coat up to her in the mirror, still somewhat unsure. "How vexing is the ever-ebbing fashion curb, though. How do humans do it?"

"I couldn't say," Jessica replied. Angela gave her a sideways look before turning back to herself in the mirror. The actual warmth of the clothing had no bearing on her. The temperature itself didn't matter, but she had to still appear as if the weather still had an effect.

"Does it ever bother you?" She asked her assistant, "the weather, that is?"

"Not particularly," Jessica replied, still primarily fixated on her paperwork.

"Why not?" She continued, "it seems a very common notion. Complaining about it being too cold, too hot, too wet, too windy. Yet I've never once heard you complain about the weather."

"Perhaps," Jessica looked up, "I don't find things I cannot control objectionable. The weather will be what it will be, and no amount of complaining will change that."

"Ah," Angela nodded, "a splendid answer, one I have come to expect of you." Angela slipped into the jacket, fastening it up to her clavicle. The fur trim tastefully framed her head, and she allowed her hair to hand into the coat should she require the hood. The fur itself was fake, rather blatantly so, with a particularly inorganic shade of slate grey. She didn't want the public to be put off by controversial items such as extravagant fur coats, but the garb conveyed just enough humility whilst exuding a sophisticated and admirable fashion sense. All part of the intricate game of public relations, and humanity overall. Something as simple as a coat could communicate a lot either consciously or subconsciously. The silence in the office was cut by a sudden beeping coming from Jessica's pocket. The assistant pulled out her pager, her brow furrowing slightly.

"The press tour is being moved up," Jessica said. The pager beeped again with an additional message that made one of Jessica's eyebrows raise. "Apparently there will be an additional representative."

"From where?"

"It doesn't say," Jessica replied.

"How inconsiderate," Angela huffed, "to invite another party on such short notice." She held her own glance in the mirror, pondering as she pressed the coat against her, playing dress-up. "Must be someone important."

"I can call the event manager and find out," Jessica said as she walked towards the phone, only for Angela to hold up a hand.

"No need," she said, "let it be a surprise."

Chapter 11: Frostbite

Chapter Text

Erin didn't even bother hanging up her coat as they entered the apartment. She simply kicked off her slush-encrusted shoes at the door, let her jacket slide off her arms, then tossed it onto the kitchen island as she made a beeline for the fridge. Transforming had made her hungry, as usual, and she needed something. Mahi wasn't far behind, though he instead went for the first aid kit. Erin pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge as he unbuttoned his shirt, carefully flexing his neck and shoulders as he felt the wounds that Urchin had left. Erin had wounds as well, but they were already healing, and would be gone in no time once she ate. She had no sooner cracked the first shell as Mercer hobbled from the hallway, propped up on his cane. He didn't seem happy.

"How are your injuries?" He asked.

"It stings," Mahi said as he looked at the nearly closed puncture wounds, "but as long as they don't get infected I'll be fine."

"Same," Erin rolled up her sleeve to examine the punctures on her arm, then looked down her shirt at the scratch marks against her chest, "it burns but it doesn't hurt, if that makes sense."

"That's one positive to the altercation I suppose," the doctor replied. "It's a shame 'Urchin' got away, but at least he didn't take Hartwell's campaign information."

"I'm not so sure he wanted it," Erin said, "he didn't even go for the safe, he took something from Hartwell's desk." Erin pulled the Assembler from her coat pocket and handed it to Mercer, "there's a chance the helmet camera caught a glimpse of whatever he took when I first went in the office. I took another look before we left, so if you compare the two shots of the desk-"

"I can determine what was taken," Mercer nodded. "Good thinking."

"It's the least I could do," Erin sighed, "considering I let our best lead get away."

"You didn't let him get away," Mahi said, "he's just a slippery little twerp."

"Yet he would've been an asset," Mercer said plainly. "He's one of few Celestial operatives with a weak constitution and tendency to run his mouth." Mercer took a seat on one of the island's tools and leaned forward. "We could've interrogated him."

"Hey, it's not always that simple," Mahi held up a hand with a stern expression, "besides, we learned plenty. For example, now we know what Wintergreen is up to." Mercer didn't respond, but it was clear he wasn't satisfied.

"Politics," Erin mulled over the implications, "is that her end goal? Or just another step? What, today city hall, tomorrow the world?"

"I suppose that's what we have to find out," Mercer replied. "We'll plan our next move once Lucas returns."

"Where is Shaggy, anyway?" Mahi asked, noticing Luke wasn't on the couch.

"We had a... disagreement," Mercer sighed, "he asked me to do something incredibly stupid..." Mercer clutched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses, "and God help me, I even considered it, but I said no. Now he's gone out to drink, his usual response when he doesn't get his way."

"Wait," Erin's face turned to shock, "Luke went to a bar? To get drunk?"

"I assume so," Mercer said, "that's what drinking often leads to."

"No, I mean-" Erin groaned as she held her face in her palm, "ever since I started to change I noticed I'm immune to certain things, one of which being that I can't get drunk." She sighed, "no matter how much I want to."

"Makes sense," Mercer nodded, "your metabolism is higher, and your body rapidly heals any damage excess alcohol would do."

"But Luke's doesn't," Mahi uttered, making the realization, "not anymore." He exchanged a worried glance with Erin, "he's probably never been drunk before."

"Oh good heavens," Mercer sighed, "why didn't I think of that?"

"Did he say where he went?" Erin asked as she grabbed her coat.

"He didn't," Mercer seemed worried now, "but he frequents the Sir Lewis bar and grille, which is only a few blocks away."

"We'd better get him," Mahi buttoned his shirt back up, "hopefully he doesn't hurt himself."

"Or someone else," Mercer said. Erin didn't understand the comment, what with Luke now being no stronger than any other human being, but didn't have time to argue semantics. Soon her and Mahi were out the door once more, rushing to the elevator at the end of the hall and almost slamming the button for ground level. As the doors closed and the car descended Erin felt her stomach growl. It would have to wait.

"You think he'd be smarter than this," Mahi mused.

"Maybe his brain is human now, too," Erin uttered.

"Who knows," Mahi sighed, "maybe he's a happy drunk?" Erin doubted that very much. Luke already lacked inhibition. He never knew when to stop, even when enough was enough. In a way he had been intoxicated before. The thought of him walking the halls of Celestial's facility, dried husks in his wake, pushed itself rather suddenly to the forefront of Erin's mind. Why that day wouldn't leave her mind she couldn't say, but It fed her fears. The way he just gave in to the temptation like that, after everything she knew about him, sat ill. So much hard work wasted. Was it that easy to give in? Was the need to feed that unbeatable? If someone as strong as Luke could lose himself to the hunger just like that, what hope would someone weaker than him have?

"Hey," Mahi placed a hand on her shoulder, misunderstanding Erin's dour expression, "it'll be fine. He wasn't out that long."

"Right," Erin nodded. They had only taken twenty minutes to get home, after all. Luke would've had less time than that to get to the bar and start drinking. "How much trouble could he have gotten himself into?"

Chapter 12: Self Control

Chapter Text

"They're battering the rear gates!" The soldier bellowed as he burst into the ready room, "we must have reinforcements!"

"Tell the rear guard to hold the line," the aging captain of the guard ordered.

"There is no rear guard," the soldier replied, "they've been wiped out! The gates will be splinters in minutes!"

"Damn the English," the captain spat, grabbing his sword that rested next to his seat. He seethed as the arrow wound in his side burned, haphazardly treated in the midst of the siege. "Recall the Western flank, have them defend our backside."

"For how long?" The guardsman at his side's tone was low, "we have no aid coming."

"We do not need aid," the captain grabbed the guardsman by his chest plate, rigid determination in his greying eyes.

"The castle is falling," the guardsman said sternly. "If we surrender, we might be spared, even the queen-"

"You speak treason!" The captain hissed, causing even the resolute guardsman to silence. Yet despite the anger he felt, despite the unthinkable notion, even the captain understood the truth when confronted with it. He sighed, letting go of his second and pushing him towards the soldier, "recall the West flank. I will inform her majesty."

The two younger men nodded and rushed out of the room. Even deep within the castle's heart, within the war room, the sounds of the raging battle outside shook the walls. The captain held his sword in one hand, the no doubt mortal wound in the other, and knew what had to be done. He made his way towards the exit, but not to the corridor that would take him to the battle. Instead he took the path deeper into the castle, upwards towards the main tower, to the queen's personal chambers. He moved as fast as he could, blood oozing from beneath his bandages, and all but burst through the iron doors into the darkened room. There were only two people within, and the captain did his best to lower himself to one knee.

"The castle is falling," he huffed, "the English are surrounding us, and there is no help coming. We have to surrender."

"I implore you, captain," the queen spoke softly, "hold out until nightfall."

"We won't make it till then," the younger man who stood next to her said, "we must flee now."

"No," she assured him, "we will use the cover of night." She glanced towards the parting curtains with the orange glow of the sun beaming through. "I am too vulnerable now."

"Are you mad?" The man said, then took a breath. "My queen, I beg you, this is no time for your flights of fancy. The enemy already knows we're here, if we wait the castle will be overrun and-"

"Enemy in the main hall!" A voice echoed from the corridor, swiftly followed by a blood-curdling scream. The sounds of clanging steel and bloody battle grew closer as the prince began to sweat. He turned back to his queen. She stood still and unflinching, even as death grew ever closer. The prince glanced down at the sword on his hip.

"As your lord, I must take action," he said solemnly. "If you will not flee with me by choice, I will take you from here by force."

"You'll do no such thing," she said, grey eyes cutting past the braids of blonde hair that rested above them, "you may be my husband, but you are not my lord."

"I will be your widower if we do not leave now!" The prince drew his sword, though with it at his side. The blade twitched between her and the doors from which the enemy would come, uncertain of its destination. "I beg you once more, come with me!"

"No," she said, "all will be well come nightfall. You must trust me."

"Trust you?" The prince laughed, "trust a queen who abhors the sun? Who avoids me whenever dawn approaches? A queen who secludes herself from her people, locked away like a hermit, hiding from all who'd dare come close to her?" It was then that the sword seemed to swing towards her, "we wouldn't even be besieged as we are had you not made enemies of the English."

"Think carefully of what you do, husband," the queen said calmly. The prince did not reply, he couldn't, as within moments the chamber doors burst open. Soldiers of their castle, pushed all the way back to the last line, toppling over as they were cut down by invaders. Even the captain fell, managing one last scream of defiance as a sword plunged into his chest. As he fell dead the invading soldiers turned their attention onto the queen and her consort, and the prince froze at the sight of them. The men clad in armour moved into the chamber, swords drawn. Not a word was said, no order to stand down or submit. They were not taking prisoners.

There was a scream. The prince flinched, preparing for death, but the scream was not of a charge. It wasn't even from the men in the room. It came from behind, down the corridor. Then another. And another. Screams of agony, death, as the source grew closer. Byu now the invaders had turned to see what was cutting down their men in quick succession, only for a man to go flying across the doorway in two pieces. The soldiers backed away, fruitlessly guarding against the blur that moved between them, dismantling each one as it did. The soldiers retreated, backs towards the queen, as the attacker stopped just in the doorway.

A single man, clad in broken and tattered armour, drenched head to toe in blood. His hair was matted with gore that brought it down over his face, obscuring all but his eyes that were wide with madness, and his slack jaw that fogged their air with his breath. He held a mace in one hand, short sword in another, and heaved like a rabid animal. The soldiers inside were stunned by the sight, but only momentarily, and quickly charged en masses. There were nine of them, and it seemed impossible that he wouldn't be cut down then and there, but without even so much as a flinch the soldier seemed to vanish. One of the attacking knights exploded, from what was unclear, until the glint of the bloodsoaked mace was seen buried in his torso. Another knight swung, only for his sword to go flying across the room, still held by his arms. Yet another's head went flying from his body, crushed within its helmet, and yet another was struck in the chest so hard his armour crumpled like tin. All this in less than a minute.

The lone soldier seemed to stop for a moment, seemingly to catch his breath, but he didn't seem fatigued. Stricken by the sight of their numbers being halved, only three of the remaining invaders had the wits to strike whilst they had the chance. Three swords plunged into his exposed torso, skewering him, and it seemed the rampage was at an end. That was, until, the man let out a short sigh. Almost a huff. The attackers froze, except for one who quickly let go, while the other two had their arms broken as the man turned so fast the swords embedded in him snapped like twigs from the force. The man dropped his own sword into the ground, its blade pitted and fractured, and pulled the remaining blades from his body as if plucking splinters. With a blade in each hand he casually impaled the two soldiers who had fallen, leaving just the three left. Still stunned, the two who had abstained fell to their knees, but the one remained defiant. He saw the destroyed remains of his fellow with the mace still within, and pulled the weapon free. He charged, swinging the weapon towards the man's head, only to stop just short as the sound of crunching metal and flesh accompanied an arm protruding through his torso. The man pulled his arm free, letting the body drop, and the room fell deathly silent.

"What..." the prince uttered, horrified by what he just saw, "what in God's name are you?" The soldier didn't reply. He simply stood there, motionless, bereft of any life. The only movement was the trickling of blood off his fingertips, and the slowly closing wounds on his chest.

"If you wish to survive, then leave now," the queen said. The prince turned, expecting her to be talking to the surviving invaders, but instead her eyes were on him alone. However she was not idle. She held one of the survivors by the collar, an impossible task for someone her size. Without another word the queen held the soldier up, removing the mail from his head to expose his neck, then plunged her teeth into his flesh. The soldier didn't make a sound, yet his face seemed to scream, until the horrified expression withered to a husk before the prince's eyes. He had hardly even noticed the second soldier at her feet, already drained away to a dried corpse, as if mummified in mere moments.

"You-" the prince choked, "you're a..." He held his sword in trembling hands, pointing it towards his wife who still held the empty carcass of the soldier. The fear on his face turned to despair, then slowly melted into a focused anger. "How blind was I... to have wed a monster."

"I'm not a monster," the queen uttered, a pang of agony in her voice. The prince clenched his teeth and shut his eyes, yet the sword stayed pointed. He seemed to steel himself in the moment, preparing himself for what needed to be done, only for his eyes to snap open in a panic as he felt the looming behind him, the hot breath on his neck, and the guttural inhuman voice whisper into his ear.

"But I am."

Everything beyond that was empty. A blur. The castle falling, the invasion, the feeling into the night, the scores of men slaughtered, it was all just a bad dream. A bad dream that seemed to fade with every sip from the glass. It was like each drop dissolved the pain on contact. How many he had, he couldn't say. He sat down, started drinking, and didn't stop. Normally this was hardly a dent in the pain, but tonight was different. Tonight the alcohol burned his throat, pricked his cheeks, and crawled up his insides as the poison did exactly what it was designed to do. It was as though the scars just peeled off. It was the best feeling in the world.

"You alright, Jack?" The bartender asked, refilling the glass, "you're not yourself tonight."

"My name's not Jack," he said, pulling the glass in as he rested on his elbow, "it's Luke. At least this time it is." He cupped the glass and drank half of it in one gulp. Another scar was removed.

"My mistake," the bartender shrugged with a smile, "got a lot of names to remember. Still, you'd think I'd remember you after, what, two years?"

"Eleven, actually," Luke uttered.

"Oh," the man looked apologetic, "sorry pal, I didn't-"

"It's not you," Luke dismissed his concern, waving his hand before him, "it's this face. I'm just another guy. Another regular dude, so generic I might as well be everywhere. Put me in a police lineup, I'll be the fat kid in dodgeball." Luke hammered the rest of his glass back, slamming it on the counter, "always picked last."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," the bartender leaned one arm on the counter, "you're not a bad lookin' fella, I'm sure she's out there waitin' for ya." Luke laughed, louder than he ought to, at the man's misunderstanding of his statement.

"Oh, she is," Luke chuckled, motioning to have his glass refilled, "the woman of my dreams wears high heels in a high rise, and turns into a blood-sucking vampire after dark."

"Don't they all?" The bartender poured another. Luke placed his hand on the bottle, or rather attempted to, only to nearly spill his drink. The bartender expertly moved the glass to safety, watching Luke with a co*ck-eyed expression, "you sure you're alright? I don't think I've ever seen you this drunk."

"You've never seen me drunk at all," Luke sighed, "no one has. It takes a lot, and I mean a lot of booze, but lately I..." his words trailed off as he focussed all his effort on picking up the glass without spilling it, and took another sip. Just as he did, a waitress passed the bar, a platter of food in her hands, delivering it to one of the tables. The smell of food was there, but so much duller than ever, yet his mouth watered at the mere thought of it. Luke turned back to the bartender and motioned him closer with a finger.

"To be honest with you," he whispered, "I'm actually a werewolf who's recently been turned into a human, and now I can get drunk and eat people food, and I really want a rack of those ribs."

"Ah," the bartender nodded with a sly smile as he whispered in kind, "would the werewolf like those ribs Cajun or Texas style?"

"Surprise me," Luke whispered back. The bartender gave a thumbs up as he turned back towards the kitchen, just as a group of men walked behind Luke, bumping into him. They made their way to the bar, talking loudly as they took all the stools to his right, once again paying him no mind as one shoved his way onto the stool next to him. Luke returned to his drink, holding it to his lips, only to hesitate on the next sip. He placed the glass down, turned to the large man beside him, and tapped his shoulder. He turned around.

"Excuse me, mister fat*ss?" Luke asked, his words slurred, "can you get your fat ass off my stool, fat*ss?" The man spun his seat to face Luke as his friends likewise leaned around to see, all conversation stopped and all eyes fell to him.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" The large man asked.

"Nope," Luke stared down his nose, tilting his head back far to do so, "she taught me how to hunt. You don't need to be polite to prey." The group of men erupted into laughter, exchanging looks and remarks as Luke simply stood there, unmoving. The man he insulted turned back to him, leaning into his face.

"Wanna take this outside, little man?" He asked.

"I thought you'd never ask," Luke smiled. He immediately hopped off his stool and made for the exit, the group of men in tow as other patrons watched anxiously. As soon as they stepped outside Luke took a deep breath of the cold air, watching as he exhaled fog into the dim light of the streetlamp. Behind him the large man had already poised himself for a brawl, his friends on the sidelines egging him on. Luke kept his arms at his side, turning back to his opponent, unsteady on his feet as he looked at him from the corner of his eye.

"Well?" Luke asked. The man, seemingly unsure of his relaxed posture, hesitated before lunging out with a right hook. His fist struck Luke in the jaw, hard, and sent him spinning down to the ground. The friends started to cheer as the man smirked, watching Luke hunched on the ground, dazed. It seemed as though Luke was down, only for him to stumble towards the lamp, using it to prop himself back up. He turned to his opponent, his legs trembling to keep him up, as blood ran from the corner of his mouth.

"Don't stop," Luke said, holding up his fists, "I'm just getting started." The large man was once again a bit disarmed, but likewise struck again with his left fist, snapping Luke's head to one side as it hit and nearly knocking him down again. Luke kept his arms up, though, and so the man struck him again. This sent a wad of bloody saliva towards the cheering onlookers, who moved back lest they get blood on their boots. Luke almost fell to one knee, grabbing his own thigh to steady himself and stay up, only for another blow to hit him in the side of the head, sending him face first into the slushy sidewalk. This caused the man to shake his fist from the pain of his knuckles making contact with Luke's skull, and while the friends kept applauding, his opponent seemed unsure.

"Come on!" He shouted at Luke, "fight back, puss*!"

Luke didn't answer, he just pulled himself from the wet dirt and snow, holding his head where he'd been struck. He turned towards his attacker, bloodied and bruised, but held up his hands. But rather than poise with his fists, he simply beckoned the man to hit him again. His opponent was once again confused, and so went in for a gut punch, but when the fist hit Luke, he was barely pushed back. The hit was weak, deliberately so, as the opponent's indecision turned into reluctance.

"Don't..." Luke uttered, hardly fazed, "don't hold back."

"You're f*cked, dude," the large man said, dropping his fists as he backed away, "this ain't a real fight. I'm out."

"No you're not," Luke coughed, spitting blood onto the sidewalk, "you're done when I say you're done."

"You gotta death wish, crackhead?" His opponent asked, "get lost before I put you in the hospital."

"Just try," Luke said. This seemed to push the man beyond his reluctance, incensed by Luke's defiance. He turned back towards the battered man, raised his arm back, and threw one more punch right for his face, only for his fist to stop just short.

"Don't try too hard," Mahi said, squeezing the man's arm by the wrist. With little effort he pulled the man's arm back, twisting it as the attacker's face turned to anguish, before Mahi let go and he stumbled back, clutching it in pain.

"You wanna brawl, blondie?" One of the man's friends piped up as the group stepped closer.

"Not hardly, my dude," Mahi held up his hands, then glanced at Luke, "my buddy here just had too much to drink. Sorry if he gave you bros a hard time."

"Jesus Christ, Luke," Erin said as she helped him stand, seeing his battered and bloodied face, "why?"

"Yeah, well, 'bro,'" one of the friends pointed at Luke, "your pal here started it."

"I don't doubt that," Mahi sighed, "but it's over now. Go back inside where it's warm, enjoy your evening, and let's just forget all this happened."

"Whatever," the large man shook his head as he waved them off, turning back towards the bar with his friends, only for a wad of dirt and snow to strike him in the back of the head. Erin and Mahi turned to see Luke scooping up more slush from the sidewalk, ready to throw more. The group of men turned back, the snow-covered brawler in particular seethed. Mahi didn't get the chance to defuse the situation before the man barged past him, barreling towards Luke, and when Erin stood in his way he grabbed her by the arm and shoved her aside. Without a moment's hesitation Erin turned back towards the man and punched him, sending him flying across the sidewalk into the trash cans by the corner, and he didn't get up. The group of friends went silent.

Erin looked at her hand, still balled into a fist. She looked at the man, face down in the dirt, no less than ten feet away, felled by a single hit. She hadn't meant to hit him hard. When he pushed her, so suddenly, it was her automatic response to fight back. It all happened so fast. She still processed it even as the other men approached, no longer shocked but instead incensed by the attack on their friend, and Erin instinctively backed away just as the reality of her mistake began to set in. Mahi moved to stop the gang, only for one of the men to turn on him, and one of the larger of the group bore down on Erin just as she backed into the street lamp. She felt scared, anxious, afraid of being hurt and afraid of hurting someone else. The man was larger than her, angrier than her, yet his friend still laid unconscious. She didn't know what to do.

The man's head snapped to one side, struck across the mouth. A blur swept his leg and dropped him to one knee before another hit landed in his nose, followed by a knee to the head as he fell backwards. Luke stood over him, still haggard and slumped, but steady. More than steady, he was solid as a rock, unflinching even as another man approached. The attacker swung for his head, but Luke blocked with his arm, jabbing the man in the throat, punched him in the gut, and as he doubled over from the blow Luke thrust his knee into his head, letting him fall. Luke snapped to the next man, who jabbed with one fist whilst holding the other in, and Luke side-stepped and dropped low, knocking both knees out with his own jabs, then elbowing him in the nose as he collapsed. This left only one man, who beat on Mahi while the Mer only guarded, unwilling to use his own strength to fight back. Erin watched as Mahi absorbed the blows, until finally his patience peaked, and he was forced to strike back. He clobbered the man across the head, staggering him, and when the final member of the gang recouped, Mahi slapped him open-palm across the face for his troubles, finally knocking the man down.

"Are you okay?" Mahi asked Erin, clearly upset.

"I'm fine," she uttered, looking at the men strewn about the snowy sidewalk. They all writhed, moaning, save for the one she struck. Mahi quickly pulled him out of the garbage, turning him over, while Erin could only watch.

"He's alive," Mahi nodded. Erin felt immediate relief, but quickly felt sobered by the mere fact that his survival was even in question.

"I didn't-" she choked, composing herself, "I didn't mean to hit him hard."

"I know," Mahi said, "I know you didn't."

"I just panicked," she continued to ramble with her hands shakily rising to her mouth, "he was going for Luke and he shoved me and I just-"

"I know," Mahi placed his hands on her own, "we need to get him and go." Mahi turned back towards the bar, but Luke was gone. He noticed one of the doors closing just as he turned, and his expression soured. Mahi pushed the doors open as he walked into the establishment, towards the bar, while all the other patrons watched in shock. Even the bartender stood at the back corner of the bar, telephone in hand.

"I already called the cops," he said defiantly.

"Whatever," Mahi uttered. He didn't care about the bartender, or the customers, just the man hunched over at the stool. Luke sat at the bar, eating a rack of ribs, and Mahi grabbed him by his jacket. He looked at the bartender as he pulled Luke from his stool, fished out a few bills, and dropped them on the counter. He all but dragged him out of the bar as Luke stumbled drunkenly on his feet. They exited the building as Erin approached, watching Luke almost collapse from the booze and bruises.

"Come on," Mahi said softly to her, "let's get him home."

Chapter 13: Public Affairs

Chapter Text

"First and foremost, thank you all for coming," Angela spoke into the microphone, "I'd like to thank you all for joining me on such short notice. If only we could've done this indoors." The press and officials predictably chuckled in response to her artificial smile and hollow sympathies. Even as she stood at the podium in the park, in front of dozens and dozens of people and cameras, faking a shiver in the chill wind, mimicking all the subtle humbling qualities she knew they would eat up, she couldn't feel more in control.

"I wish this conference could be held under better circ*mstances," she lied, "but current events have demanded action. Just the day before, our honoured police commissioner was yet another victim of a growing threat to our safety." She paused for emphasis, taking a breath she didn't need, "and I do mean victim. Contrary to what the tabloids and gossip may think, we at Celestial Biotics believe that Hartwell was not a complicit member of this terroristic threat, but yet another honest citizen who was targeted as prey." This decree caused murmurs, uncertainty, notes to be taken, and if there was an inattentive soul in the crowd, there wasn't one now.

"With the utmost care and respect for our commissioner," she continued, "we have concluded that he was the victim of a targeted biological weapon." More stirring followed, some asked questions, but Angela held up her hands to stay the discourse. "With cooperation from the police force and federal security, Celestial Biotics has worked tirelessly to analyze the creatures that have been spreading throughout our good city. It was an early hypothesis that this was, perhaps, some transmitted pathogen. We no longer believe this to be the case."

"What makes you sure it's a weapon?" One reporter shouted, causing a cacophony of more questions that drowned each other out.

"Commissioner Hartwell was a healthy man," Angela explained, "he received regular check ups, and his immune system was strong and operating normally. The affliction he suffered in no way activated an immune response. His body simply did not fight it. Even the most virulent virus has some pushback from the body." Angela allowed for another swell of questions and shouting, waiting until it died down once more to continue. "It was a previously held opinion that the 'werewolf' spread was some kind of disease, but that does not seem to be the case. No disease functions this way."

"What can be done?" One reporter asked, causing another uproar.

"That is why I am here before you," Angela said, putting on a mask of stoicism. "We at Celestial Biotics believe we have the counter-agent. In continued cooperation with the police and city hall, a new task force dedicated to the containment and resolution of this threat has been officially launched. Our strides in analyzing and fighting this terroristic assault on citizens is at its zenith. In fact, Hartwell has already been completely cured. Starting today, a new division of specially trained officers will be operating under federal jurisdiction to capture and contain any more afflicted citizens, whereupon they will be treated by our dedicated and hard-working specialists at Celestial Biotics. The time for fear is over, the time for action is now."

The crowd swelled in response, questions and flash photography assailed her, and it was everything Angela could do to keep a smile off her face. Individually, humans were critical, discerning, paranoid to the point of distrust. A single person was often the toughest nut to crack, but in a collective, they were so much easier to guide. Emboldened by the security of numbers, fed by the excitement of a group, humans left themselves vulnerable to the most devastating attack: persuasion. In a way the mishap with the commissioner had worked out to her benefit, as Angela had captured the public's eye at the moment it was at its most terrified. They would do anything to feel safe and secure once more. Soon the rabble began to quell, and Angela was able to start taking individual questions as she pointed to one reporter in particular.

"When will the task force be deployed?" They asked.

"It already has," she answered. "Due to our strict vetting process, there was a short delay in building the most effective and qualified teams, however we already have units stationed at ready posts in all major metropolitan areas."

"What exactly are these monsters?" Another spoke up.

"As of right now, we are operating under the assumption that any of these creatures may be citizens, and thus we have enforced a strict 'capture and contain' procedure."

"What about the men in the masks?" One of the back row asked, "what's their connection to all this?"

"The investigation into the masked individuals is primarily police jurisdiction," Angela explained. "It is currently believed that the suspects are the perpetrators of these attacks, and Celestial Biotics will aid in said investigation however we can."

"How many of these things are there?" Yet another asked.

"What can people do to protect themselves?" Shouted another.

"Who authorized this task force?" The question cut through the crowd, silencing all the voices. Angela's face turned neutral at the woman who stood behind the rest. She was tall, long dark hair spilled out from beneath the hood of her coat, and the press recognized her immediately. Joan D'Arc stepped forward through the crowd, "and who is in charge of its recruitment?"

"The Premier passed the bill," Angela explained, not letting her mask break, "and the recruitment process is being personally overseen by the chief of police given the Commissioner's absence."

"Overseen, perhaps, but conducted by whom?" Joan asked, "where exactly are these recruits coming from?"

"Well," Angela laughed slightly with her sigh, "that answer is simple: brave and capable men and women from varying professional backgrounds. From skilled operatives in the private sector, to former and current law enforcement. Even ex-military. Only the most disciplined mankind has to offer."

"Private sector," Joan nodded, "ex-military. Sounds like you're employing mercenaries as part of a private militia."

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," Angela kept her tone and expression placid, masking the fervor that swelled within her. She wanted nothing more than to leap into the audience and rip the woman in half, yet at the same time knew all too well the futility. "As I said, it is the police and city hall, with federal oversight, that have created the task force. My company is merely offering our support in equipping and educating the force on the current threat." Angela locked eyes with Joan, the financial mogul's poise and posture likewise infallibly cool. "Any other concerns I might be able to placate?"

"No," Joan shook her head slightly with a smile, "thank you." The crowd erupted into more questions, and other representatives from city hall took over answering as Angela retreated from the podium. The conference soon concluded, with the press being denied one-on-one interviews, and the representatives began to disperse. As news outlets began to run their own stories on sight, Joan D'Arc was seemingly nowhere to be found, leaving the press confused. It was only in the closed parking lot across the street where the representatives returned to their vehicles did Joan likewise make her way to her car, along with a personal aid. As they approached the Lincoln a figure appeared from the corner of the lot, as if stepping from the shadows themselves.

"A rare public appearance, Miss 'D'Arc,'" she smiled, "and during the day no less. Tell me, how's the reception on that puppet of yours?"

"Trust me, this concession isn't for you," the thrall spoke, though her words were not her own. "After all, the public doesn't know the real me.."

"Of course," Angela chuckled, leaning on the side of Joan's car, much to the latter's disgruntlement. "How ironic that we both must wear these cumbersome masks."

"Yours seems to be slipping," Joan said. "You looked a little unhappy up there. It's humbling, really, to know even a sociopath like you can get annoyed."

"I can get more than annoyed," Angela shrugged, "sometimes I can get downright unpleasant."

"Just a few harmless questions," the thrall crossed her arms, a pantomime of Joan's own actions no doubt, "you certainly had them eating out of your hand."

"Didn't I?" Angela laughed, "it really is something, isn't it? Scare people enough, threaten them enough, and they'll give you anything they want."

"You're holding this city for ransom."

"Not in the slightest," Angela scoffed, "honestly, Joan, I would've thought you of all people would understand."

"I understand you're a monster," she replied, "and deranged. You toy with people's lives for your own amusem*nt."

"Says the corporate bigwig in her ivory tower," Angela scoffed, "who uses meat puppets to do her bidding."

"My thralls are willing servants," Joan said.

"Yes, the allure of a vampire is a powerful bargaining chip," Angela pushed off the car and stepped towards the two, "the very romantic, sensual immortality, forever young and beautiful, drinking blood like a fine wine." Angela offered a half smile as she held her hand to her chest, "so much more attractive than a grotesque, savage animal."

"I never took you for the self-conscious type," Joan smirked.

"I'm not," Angela chuckled, "in fact I'm really quite the opposite, but as a fellow business woman you surely understand the concept of 'mass appeal.' What I want and what the people want don't have to align, I simply need to provide the service. The service of security. Safety in the form of control. Humans love the idea of a system. It takes the responsibility out of their hands." She held her hand out towards Joan's thrall, "you are no different. In fact, you might even approve of my plan once you hear it."

"How do you figure that?" She asked.

"Because you also have a system," Angela explained, "a system that gives you everything you need. You have power, wealth, stability, and an army of loyal servants to feed on and bend to your whim. Fate gave you immortality at the cost of basic human livelihood, and yet with a system you've all but eliminated any shortcoming your nature might have." Angela placed her hand on the thrall's shoulder, knowing that Joan could feel it, "the only flaw with your system is that it still forces you to hide. You live by proxy, ashamed and in fear of the world. You know as well as I do that humanity would destroy you if they knew what you were."

"And what do you propose as an alternative?" Joan asked.

"Why, a system, of course," Angela held her finger to the thrall's chest, "but an even better one than you have. A system where I, and all the 'monsters' of this world, can be ourselves. It's agriculture, really. A kingdom is only as strong as its food supply. People need cattle, and cattle must be herded. Granted, this system is in its infancy, but I have confidence and ambition, not to mention time. Just imagine fresh human blood at your whim. To walk down the streets at night as you are, unashamed and unafraid as the people you pass are all creatures of the dark like yourself."

"Cattle?" Joan asked, the thrall stepping back, "you're talking about human beings. Living creatures."

"A cow is a living creature," Angela said, "so is a chicken. Slaughter has been industrialized, the only reason it's okay is because the animals on the slab aren't them." She crossed her arms, looking the thrall dead in the eye, "perhaps you still feel a relation to mankind. I understand, though I can't sympathize, but at this point you must realize you're not one of them anymore."

"You don't have to be human to recognize cruelty," Joan said.

"Who said anything about cruelty?" Angela remarked, aghast, "just because they're cattle doesn't mean they'll be mistreated. Sure, our current iteration process is messy, but science often is. It is because of the lack of a system that I have to resort to such maverick experimental processes."

"What makes you think humanity would ever allow this to happen? Joan asked, "you say that I live in fear of the world's wrath, but you are even more alone than me. It's just you and Luke, and I'm sure he's already made his opinion clear."

"Humanity won't have a choice," Angela grinned, "not when they're outnumbered. Certainly, public hysteria has the fear of wolfmen a household topic, but you as well as I know how quickly the tides can turn. When people's neighbors, coworkers, and loved ones start to become these beasts of fable, perhaps new evidence will be discovered that paints the issue in a less serious light? Perhaps not all wolfmen are bad, certainly not ones that you know personally. Perhaps they are the real victims, like our dear Commissioner, scared and in danger. History shows, time and again, how a once unfairly persecuted race finds sanctuary in the arms of civility and acceptance."

"You're deranged," Joan said, "don't twist humanity's history of suffering to validate your own distorted vision."

"Humanity's suffering?" Angela laughed, "as if humanity alone has suffered its own evils. Look at nature, look at us. You and I both represent the result of human cruelty. That's why you do what you do, is it not? Spiriting away the creatures of myth, hiding them from mankind's bigotry. You know as well as I that what I propose is nothing compared to what humans have done to themselves and others. They hunted us to extinction, never once attempting cohabitation, all because we were 'monsters.'"

"So it's that simple, then?" Joan's thrall smiled in condescending amusem*nt, "petty revenge?"

"Not revenge," Angela said coldly, "simply efficient. It's what I value most of all. I could easily skulk about the night, hunting and devouring my prey as I have for the last thousand years, and never miss a meal. However, living parallel to humanity has shown me the wonder that is the system. What was created as a necessity has evolved into an art form. When I saw the exponential results of the system I became obsessed, you could say, with the potential."

"Why tell me all this?" Joan asked, "why show your hand in the infancy of your plan?"

"I'm disappointed you have to ask," Angela sighed. "I would've hoped you'd see the appeal."

"Perhaps my judgement is clouded by the memory of your attack," the thrall pointed to the back of her head, "when you stole my essence for your army."

"Please, Joan," Angela waved her hand, "that wasn't personal, you just happened to be the only vampire still alive. Besides, I have it on good authority that you made a complete recovery... with some help." She stepped towards the thrall, her voice dropping in tone, as if only now the subject of discussion was sensitive. "You think I'm so cruel, yet he sucked fifty-five of my staff dry, and killed my business partner, all to bring you back from the brink. Can any of us really stand in judgement of one another?"

"I don't deny my nature," Joan said, "and he does not deny his. You made this a war against him, you suffer the consequences."

"Oh, I think he denies it quite a bit," Angela said, "he keeps himself leashed with chemicals, as if being a werewolf is a sickness he must be medicated for. Yet when your essence entered him it was as if the pretense had dropped. What makes you think he won't find another excuse?" Angela shrugged, turning back towards the exit of the lot, as if the conversation had ended. She glanced back over her shoulder, "feel free to pass this on. I'd open a dialogue with Dr. Ray himself, but he's a hard man to track these days."

"Do you think Luke will agree to your plan?" Joan asked, and Angela stopped in her tracks. "He won't consider it, not even for an instant. You'll never sway him." In an instant Angela seemed to teleport right in front of the thrall, a gust of wind billowing past from the incredible speed as she stared into the glassy eyes of the woman who was the conduit for Joan.

"If I kill your puppet, will it hurt?" She asked, only for the light to return to the eyes of the thrall as the woman regained her independence.

"I wouldn't let you," the public face of Joan D'Arc stared back in defiance, and Angela smirked at the will of a mere puppet to protect its master. She then grabbed the woman by the jaw and twisted her head, killing her instantly, letting her body drop into the pavement of the parking garage. The aid knelt down in horror next to her, trembling hands hovered over her murdered friend with nothing to do. Her shock gave way as she glanced back up with rage on her face, only to find that Angela was gone.

Chapter 14: You're an Asshole

Chapter Text

A stinging above the eye was enough to pull Luke from his slumber, yet almost immediately upon waking, he'd wished he hadn't. His head throbbed. His jaw throbbed. He felt stiff and sore, and sick to his stomach. The overhead lights assaulted his eyes, causing him to squint, and he lazily held a hand up to shield them. He only succeeded in slapping himself with his knuckles, as if his arm were a limp noodle he only barely controlled. Something was wrong. He'd never felt this way before. It was like his body had been numbed, only he still had complete, agonizing sensation.

"Good morning," Mercer said, sighing as he reached out of view. He sat next to Luke, who laid in a bed, which was also unusual. The doctor returned with a bandage, applying it to the area that stung above Luke's eye, "or I suppose it's afternoon, now."

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Treating your wounds," Mercer replied. He let out a brief chuckle, "after nearly two years of prying silver bullets from your organs and resetting compound fractures, a few minor lacerations and bruises is quite refreshing."

"That's all?" Luke asked, feeling as though he had suffered far worse.

"According to Mahi's diagnosis, yes," Mercer closed up the small first aid kit. "It was only his careful examination with his abilities that kept you out of the hospital. I'm honestly surprised you didn't get a concussion, when you didn't wake up..." Mercer took a breath, shrugging as if to discard an errant thought. "Luckily you were just drunk."

"Am I not still?" Luke asked as he tried to sit up, but as he did he felt as though he left every internal organ laying on the mattress, and had to wait for them to catch up. He felt a churning in his gut.

"No," Mercer replied, "you have a hangover. No doubt a foreign concept to you as well." Luke didn't reply. He had been drunk a few times before, but he didn't know it could have lasting effects, he always sobered up so quickly. He watched as Mercer placed the kit next to the bedside table, and Luke soon noticed the workstation and computer beyond the foot of the bed. This was the doctor's room. He lay on top of the covers, his shoes and coat gone, but the blood still on his shirt. Another lance of pain hit his head, and Luke reached up to clutch his brow, only to notice his hands. They were bruised, bloodied, the knuckles scraped and cut. His arms were bruised as well, one particularly black mark that seemed to turn yellow on the inside. He'd never seen his arms like this.

"I blame myself," Mercer sighed, "I shouldn't have let you go."

"You're not my mother," Luke said, swinging his feet out of bed. That hurt as well.

"No, I'm not," the doctor said, "though I get the impression werewolf mothers aren't overly protective sorts."

"Why do you say that?" Luke asked.

"Well," Mercer shrugged, "you never talk about your mother. It's not my business, but I assume that you had a complicated relationship. You carry her Moonstone, but never seemed that concerned about using it in the Assembler. You mentioned her death very plainly."

"You're right," Luke said, "it's not your business." He tried to stand, only for a wave of nausea and disorienting pain to hit him again, and he quickly sat back down on the bed. Mercer seemed to smirk slightly at his plight, a bashful grin that betrayed some hidden amusem*nt. "What's so funny?"

"You tried to do it," Mercer sighed. "Storm off when confronted with a question you didn't want to answer. A staple of yours, really. It's amusing to see that, for once, you can't just run away from your feelings."

"I don't run," Luke said. He didn't continue, leaving him and Mercer in an awkward silence, only for the doctor to place his hands on his lap.

"My father was the same way," he said somewhat abruptly. "My mother was always so understanding, perhaps because she knew him before I was born. He was an infinitely kind and patient man, but he ran from his emotions, because he thought they made him weak. He needed to be strong, not for himself of course, but for his family." The doctor nodded as if agreeing with the sentiment, "he didn't expect that from me, however, though in many ways I took after him."

"Children inevitably do," Luke uttered. "Even if they'd rather not."

"Yes, well, there were certainly far worse role models to have," Mercer smiled. "My father was an Austrian national living in Germany when he met my mother on a trip to Japan. He didn't speak Japanese, but he knew some English, and so did she. It wasn't until their... fifth? Perhaps even sixth date that he realized she spoke German as well, as she was unaware that it was the main language of Austria. They loved each other even before they could completely understand one another."

"Surprising," Luke commented.

"Perhaps," he nodded, "or perhaps that love transcended words. It's a romantic thought. Though it caused some issues during the outbreak of the war." Mercer's tone seemed to shift as his expression became troubled. "We were living in Austria when the war started, and quickly fled to my mother's home, only for Japan to ally with Germany shortly after. They planned to flee to America, but my mother was an obvious immigrant, and my father's name and accent were very 'German-sounding.' So we instead immigrated to Canada, whereupon we used my mother's surname, Rei Megumi, Romanized to 'Ray.'"

"Huh," Luke nodded, "so what was your father's name?"

"Mercer Bauer," he replied, "I'm actually the second, though my name has legally been 'Ray' since I was a boy."

"Did your parents ever get to go home?" Luke asked, "after the war was done?"

"No," Mercer shook his head, "my father died of kidney disease before we had the chance, and my mother's home was in Nagasaki." The implication was clear to Luke, even in his weary state, and he simply nodded.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said.

"It's quite alright," Mercer gave a brief, hollow smile, "we lived happily in North America. Who we were and where we came from didn't matter, only that we had each other. Had we not fled the war I may not have pursued medical science, and got my doctorate, and thus never met you." A far more earnest smile came across the doctor's face as he looked at Luke, "funny how fate plays with us."

"Your father's illness," Luke began, "is that what made you want to become a doctor?"

"I suppose so," Mercer said. "I was always technically minded. I wanted to understand things, and yes, when father passed away I wanted to know how and why. Perhaps I find solace in the fact that much of our world can be explained by science. There is always a logical, technical reason behind everything."

"I guess I kind of broke that illusion, then," Luke replied. Mercer laughed softly as he nodded. Luke took in a short breath, and as he did each injury flared slightly, and his gaze dropped to the floor. "My... parents weren't in my life for very long."

"I see," Mercer said.

"It's normal," Luke explained, "we're solitary creatures by nature. It helps us hunt. We draw less attention, can move unimpeded. At least that's how I've seen it. I'm not sure I even remember my father. My parents were only together when me and my siblings were cubs. My mother watched over us, while my father usually hunted and returned only to bring food. When we were old enough to hunt for ourselves he left for good, and as soon as we came into our transformations my mother was gone soon after."

"Interesting," Mercer raised an eyebrow. "Most species of canines are pack animals."

"But we aren't," Luke continued. "Like I said, it helps our lifestyle. We're ingrained to be infiltrators, acclimating to human society just enough to get close to our prey. Being part of a family... it holds you back."

"You never saw your father again?" Mercer asked. "I take it that werewolves don't mate out of affection, then?"

"We do," Luke sighed. "In fact that's usually the only way it happens. Just because I never saw my father again doesn't mean he didn't care about my mother or us. We can fall in love, want to start a family, and all that. It just doesn't last."

"Ah," Mercer crossed his arms as he nodded, "and your mother... you said she was killed by hunters."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," Mercer replied.

"It is what it is," Luke said. "We don't grow old, we can't get sick, so there's only one way we leave this world. It's normal, when you think about it. People say 'natural causes' as opposed to accidents, disease, or the actions of human beings. As if all three aren't products of nature themselves."

"I suppose hunters would be your main threat," Mercer nodded. "That would facilitate solidarity, keeping as low a profile as possible. I think I understand now, though I find it interesting that you wouldn't find strength in limited numbers at least."

"There are no numbers with us," Luke said, "even if every werewolf alive had banded together, we'd still be outnumbered by the human race. Nothing unites a people more than a clear, unambiguous monster that needs killing." His gaze shifted away as Luke still sat on the edge of the bed, his thoughts taking over as his mind as he looked off into nowhere. "I made a mistake last night."

"You did," Mercer said plainly.

"I guess I should apologize."

"You should."

"Before I do," Luke turned back to the doctor, "about what we discussed... have you given it any thought?"

"I have," Mercer sighed, "and I think you might be right. I understand why you want to do it, but I still say it's a massive risk. I have no experience with that kind of procedure. Nobody does. What you're asking for has never even been attempted."

"Can you do it?" Luke asked, evading Mercer's concerns as the doctor's lips went terse.

"If I had the proper components," he mused, "and we could have access to Miss D'Arc's medical facilities, I believe I might."

"Then that's our next move," Luke said. Mercer didn't respond, though he didn't have much time before Luke was up and heading towards the door. Every little sound still hammered into his skull, so for once he didn't let the door slam behind him. Instead Mercer followed him out, supported by his cane, giving Luke a sly smile as he managed to hobble past him while Luke was still unsteady. The two entered the main living space of the apartment, where Erin and Mahi sat on the sofa, the television playing behind them. Only Mahi seemed to pay them mind.

"Well well," he said as Luke stumbled towards the kitchen, "look who's up. Coffee's already on, Mr. Balboa." Luke didn't reply, instead just grunting as he made his way towards the pot. Mercer made his way to the chair closest to the fireplace, taking his seat with his cane still in hand.

"Lucas would like to tell you something," he said, gaining an eyebrow raise from Mahi, while Erin seemingly ignored him outright. Mercer looked to the kitchen where Luke poured himself a cup, glancing awkwardly back to the living room. He carried his mug as he approached them, standing just between Mercer and the sofa, with Mahi looking up at him with a waiting expression. Luke glanced back at Mercer, who simply sat silently as he waited as well.

"Sorry you guys got involved," he said, "you didn't have to come looking for me." Mercer let out a dejected sigh, whilst Mahi simply widened his eyes with an incredulous expression.

"You're sorry," Erin repeated without taking her eyes off the screen, "that we got involved?"

"Bro," Mahi sighed, shaking his head.

"Lucas," Mercer groaned, "that's not a very good apology."

"It's not an apology at all," Erin said as she stood up, turning to face him, "we saved you from getting beaten to a pulp. You owe us a bit more than that."

"Fine," Luke winced as her raised voice pounded his head, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing. "I'm sorry I went and got drunk. Happy?"

"No!" Erin snapped, "no I'm not f*cking happy! Why did you do it? You're not stupid, I don't care if this is your first time being human, you should've known, you're not... unaware. You knew damn well what was gonna happen."

"Well," Luke raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, "glad I have you to tell me what I do and do not know."

"Seriously, Luke?" Mahi spoke up, "are you trying to be an asshole right now? Or did those goons knock something loose up there?"

"Why?" Erin asked, crossing her arms, "just answer me that. Why go out and cause trouble? Did you want to get your ass kicked by a bunch of thugs?" Luke stood in silence, cup in hand, as all three stared him down, awaiting his response. Finally he raised the mug to his mouth, took another sip, and nodded.

"Yeah," he admitted in earnest, "I did." Mercer sighed, Mahi rubbed his temple, and Erin was left aghast.

"Why?" She asked again, only this time the frustration on her face morphing into a look of concern. Luke simply shrugged. An awkward silence befell the room as Erin clenched her teeth at Luke's stubbornness, only to relax and wave her hand as if it didn't matter. "Whatever. While you were gone, Mercer found out what Urchin stole from Hartwell's."

"What?" Luke asked, and Mercer leaned forward as he appointed to printed photos of Erin's helmet camera feed.

"A medical bill," he explained. "The details are grainy, but it seems like a simple check-up."

"But if Pinhead wanted it, then it can't be that simple," Mahi said. "Obviously something was done to him when he went to the doctor's, and I'll give you three guesses what it was."

"They must have infected him and passed it off as a flu shot or something," Erin crossed her arms, her expression grim, "maybe even a routine blood test. If Angela has influence even in public clinics, no one is safe."

"No one ever was," Luke said. Erin didn't disagree. She was about to turn back to her seat when Erin suddenly went still. It was as though she heard something, staring off past the television and out the window, only to look back at the group.

"Another one," she uttered. "I can feel it."

"Then go," Mercer nodded, realizing that Erin had sensed the appearance of another fake. She headed for the door, grabbing her coat and heading out just as Mercer made his way back to his room where his computer was. Luke watched Erin leave, glancing down at his coffee cup, his expression null. Erin had developed his keen sense for when a fake had emerged, leaving Luke out of the loop. A lot of sensations were now cordoned off to him. He glanced at Mahi, still sitting on the couch, as if nothing at all had happened.

"Aren't you going to go with her?" Luke asked.

"Nope," Mahi said as he stood up, stretching his arms. He let them drop loosely before looking at Luke and smiling, "you and I are gonna have a little talk."

"About what?" He asked.

"About the future," Mahi said, "and what you and Mercer are planning." Luke raised an eyebrow, and Mahi held up a hand, "and no, he didn't tell me, but I'm not as stupid as I look. I know you want to fight again."

"You can't stop me," Luke said tersely, only for Mahi to chuckle.

"Dude, I don't want to stop you!" The young mer beamed as he placed a hand on Luke's shoulder. "I want to help you."

Chapter 15: Be Like Water

Chapter Text

"Please don't!" The little girl pleaded as she struggled to chase her friend over the rocks, "you don't know if it will work! It's dangerous!"

"It will work!" The boy ahead of her said, scampering across the smooth rocks towards the cliff top, "if it works in the water it can work on land!"

"What if you're wrong?" She asked, running out of breath as she both clambered up and tried to speak, "what if it only works in water and you don't make it?"

"I can't explain how," the blonde haired boy nearly slipped as he climbed, "but I feel like I can do it whenever I want. It's going to be so cool, Uila!"

"Mahi!" The little girl cried as he outpaced her, scrambling as the top of the cliff's edge was in reach. As he stood atop the rocks overlooking the cover, Mahi pulled back the messy hair that hung in front of his freckled face. The view was amazing, the full scope of the ocean, the four massive rocks that gave the bay its name, and the crisp sea air that seemed to want to propel him towards it. He looked down, past the edge, to the white foamy waves crashing along the jagged rocks at the base of the cliff. Mahi knew the rocks well, as he and his friends would often bask on them out of view of the humans, but today they would serve another purpose: a target.

"Why do you have to?" Uila asked as she approached. Mahi turned to her, a wide smile revealing the gap where his front teeth would be, and his emerald eye gleaming with excitement.

"I don't have to," he giddily replied, "but I can. I can do what no one else can!"

"Mahi, please," Uila began to tear up as she wiped her eyes. Suddenly Mahi's demeanour shifted. Uila often fretted, he was used to that, but seeing her cry was different. The tiny little girl wept behind her long dark hair, moved to tears out of worry, and it took a lot of the glee out of what he intended to do. Mahi gave one last glance at the bay, at the rocks hundreds of meters below them, and sighed. He turned to her, walking carefully down the rocks, and put his arms around the little girl.

"I'm sorry, Uila," he said, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I just don't get why," she sniffed as she wiped her eyes. "Who cares if you can do that... trick or whatever. It doesn't matter to me!"

"I know," Mahi said as he hugged his best friend one more time. "But it matters to me." Without another word he pulled away, sprinting towards the cliff even before Uila could say a word, and leapt off the edge. The little boy plummeted towards the ground, the white waves and cluster of rocks approaching fast, and changed into his true serpentine form. He then changed again, this time his body bubbling, losing its opacity as he seemed to turn completely clear. Uila could only watch as her best friend hurtled towards the rocks, and watched in horror as he hit with a splat. Only it wasn't quite a splat, but a splash, spraying against the rocks as though a bucket of water was dropped from above. Uila watched as seconds ticked by, each feeling like an eternity, and each making it seem more and more likely that the worst had happened. Only when despair had nearly reached her did something emerge from the waves, crawling its way onto the rocks.

"Yeah!" Mahi shouted, his voice echoing up the cliffside. "That's what I'm talking about!"

"Mahi!" Uila shouted back in relief. All the fear and sadness quickly gave way to happiness as she saw her friend celebrating below. Uila quickly scampered down the cliff, back towards the much lower overhangs that dropped straight into water. Uila approached the edge about halfway down from where Mahi had jumped, and likewise leapt off, this time into open water far from the rocks. She likewise shifted form just before hitting the water, and Mahi quickly jumped back in himself, changing into his own aquatic form.

"What'd I tell ya?" He said happily as he approached the young mermaid, only for his jellyfish-like companion to sting him on the arm with the tips of her fingers. Mahi yelped, spinning under the waves, clutching the point of contact, "what was that for?"

"For being stupid!" She snapped. "What if you were wrong?"

"I wasn't, though," he said with confidence. The two drifted near the seabed, resting their tails on the silt far below the crystalline reflections of the surface. Down there, where the white ocean floor was pockmarked by colourful shells and bright green seaweed, it was safe from prying eyes. Here they could stay in their true forms, out of view, and anyone who glimpsed them at a distance through the kelp wouldn't be able to tell that they weren't just normal fish.

"Don't ever do that again," Uila said, her head dropping as she drifted in the waves, "that was mean. You were mean to me."

"I'm sorry," Mahi sighed, "I just... I want to know what I can do. I want to know what this means." Mahi held his hands before him as they changed from solid to clear, almost vanishing in the water. "I'm special now."

"You already were!" Uila replied, "you're special to me, and you were special before you found out you could do this trick."

"You know what I-" Mahi was cut off by a sudden shadow that rolled over them from above. It was so big it might have been a boat, but as they looked up there was nothing there. Something that large, that fast, could only be one thing. Something was in the water with them, something that could swim fast and silently, something they both panicked at the thought of. Mahi was about to try and escape into the seaweed when he felt something looming behind him, and Uila was frozen in fear as massive wing-like fins emerged from behind. Mahi spun just in time to be grabbed by something massive, and strong, and could only struggle in vain as he was pulled towards it. It was like a massive manta ray, only with arms, a humanoid head, and a long, shark-like tail.

"What is the matter with you?" Hihio hissed, his voice, along with his solid white eyes, were full of anger. "You jumped from the cliff in broad daylight, where anyone could see you, not to mention you could've been killed!"

"I'm sorry!" Mahi cried as Hihio held his arm, "I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"

"It wasn't his fault!" Uila spoke up as she held her translucent hands to her face, "I asked him to-"

"Don't cover for him," Hihio shot her a glare before turning back to the infant mer in his grasp. "You and I are going to have a talk. Now." He finally released his grasp, and Mahi clutched his wrist. He looked back to Uila, who simply hung in the water, huddling her tendrils close. Hihio swam away, Mahi following shortly after. The school leader was quiet the whole trip. Not a word was uttered as they swam out towards the rocks, deeper and deeper past the kelp and coral, until the water began to get dark. Mahi could still see just fine, but along with his elder's lack of words, it set a foreboding tone. He had no idea where exactly they were going, though he was too afraid to ask, instead swimming just behind the ray-like Merman as they remained just above the ocean floor. Finally they began to slow, coasting along the rocks below, until Hihio finally drifted to a halt.

"You promised me," the elder Mer began, "that you would take this seriously."

"I do, though," Mahi began, only for the crested head of his leader to turn sharply towards him.

"Jumping off a cliff in full view of the humans is 'serious' to you?" He scolded, and Mahi curled up at the accusation. Hihio's eyes were narrow in a glare, but seeing the infant Mer cower at his tone caused his posture to soften. He spoke again, though no less angry, he was calmer. "I saw you from a fishing boat. Luckily the others on board were allies, but what if they weren't? What if there were other boats out there? Or tourists from the mainland watching a child leap into the rocks?"

"I'm sorry," Mahi uttered.

"You've been given a gift, Mahi," Hihio drifted closer, "a precious gift that only happens on rare occasions." He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, and Mahi felt the animosity leave his elder. "Even among our people you are unique. You have to be very careful who sees you."

"But I thought humans were our friends?" He asked, and Hihio's eyes softened.

"Some humans, child," he replied, "only a few, and only ones who are proven trustworthy."

"Why only some?" Mahi asked, "why not tell everyone? If people are good then-"

"People are dangerous," Hihio said flatly. "A person may be good, a person may be trustworthy, but people... humans behave differently when they're together. They get confused, scared, and make rash decisions. It doesn't mean they're bad, but it doesn't mean they're good." The young Mer seemed unconvinced, though he didn't object. Hihio's gills flared as he sighed, then very gingerly took Mahi's hand. He led the child deeper into the ocean beyond the rocks, well past the point he'd ever ventured before. They swam over the plains, heard the distant echoes of whale calls travelling unobstructed across the open floor, until something came into view. It was unnatural, large, and stuck out as a blemish amongst the otherwise even seabed. It was a sunken ship.

"Humans are not evil," Hihio said as he took his son closer to the wreck, "but they can do evil things." Mahi examined the wreck as they swam alongside it. It was a large, metal boat, with the profile of a giant kayak, only with a cluttered deck line with rails. The cabin section was as big as a house, it had strange machines with long segments, and Mahi noticed giant holes in the hull that bent inward. Most perplexing of all was the condition of the boat. It had little silt covering it, almost no overgrowth, and the metal hull had barely rusted. It seemed as though it hadn't been there for very long compared to the wrecks he'd seen. It still looked older than Mahi himself, but not by much.

"What is it?" He asked almost instinctively as his attention was still on the vessel.

"A battleship," Hihio explained. "Humans built hundreds of these to wage war."

"Against who?" The young Mer asked as they passed the bow.

"Other humans," Hihio replied, and that's when Mahi saw it. Beyond the bow Mahi could see deeper into the ocean, far across the seabed, and it was littered with ships just like this one. Some bigger, some smaller, but all were of a kind. That's when Mahi turned back to the battleship next to him, at the machines with the long hollow sticks. They were guns.

"Our people are a myth to humanity," Hihio began, "and that has kept us safe. What humans do not believe in they cannot destroy."

"Why would they destroy us?" Mahi asked, "we've never hurt them. We wouldn't hurt them!"

"Humans have waged war amongst themselves since their species began," the elder Mer explained. "Humans understand each other more than anything on this planet and they still hurt one another, do you think they'd hesitate to attack something they don't?"

"I don't get it," Mahi admitted, resting his hand against the cold hard steel of the warship. "All the humans I've met are nice... even the ones who don't know what we are." He felt an unusual feeling inside him. A pain. There was something that hurt as he imagined humans hurting each other, and hurting his people. Seeing a ship this big, designed to kill, and seeing so many of them didn't make sense, not to a child. Mahi asked the only thing he could think to ask, in the only way his mind could conclude based on what Hihio was showing him: "Am I supposed to hate them?"

"No," Hihio said, once again placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Whether you do or not is your choice, but I didn't bring you here to scare you or make you angry at humanity."

"Then why?" Mahi asked, looking up at his elder.

"Because I want you to know," Hihio drifted down so he was more to the boy's level, "you must know what the world is like. It is wonderful, yet dangerous, and the gift you have is not just a miracle for you, but for all. What you can do can help others. In a world where death-" he motioned to the sea of wrecks, "is all too common, you have the opportunity to save lives. People hurt each other a lot, they hurt each other even when they don't try to, and they can hurt more than just other humans. Our oceans suffer, the air itself suffers, and we could very well suffer if we're not careful."

"How do I help people?" Mahi asked, "I can turn into water... but what does that do?"

"Come now," Hihio's eyes evoked the softness of a smile, "what kind of Mer are you to ask that? Water is life, it's pure and it's everlasting. It can heal, rejuvenate, and yes, even save a life. You will come to understand how exactly you can do that as you grow, but first you must understand." Hihio glanced away, as if debating his next words, "no, not understand... you must have the resolve."

"Resolve?" Mahi asked. Hihio nodded, until it was that he realized Mahi's question was not a rhetorical reinforcement, he simply didn't know the word.

"Resolve," Hihio chuckled, "it's like when you know what you have to do, and you want to do it, and you decide that you'll do it no matter what."

"No matter what," Mahi repeated, this time in agreement.

"No matter what," he put his arm around the boy. "Resolve is what makes a grown-up. When you have resolve you can succeed at anything, overcome anything, even yourself."

"Myself," Mahi repeated, pondering the idea. To a child, especially one overwhelmed as he was, such an introspective notion was lost. Yet the way Hihio said it made only the most sense. Whatever overcoming yourself meant, Mahi would do it. The small Mer held his hands in front of himself, watching them change opacity as he flexed his ability. It wasn't easy, and he had to concentrate, and really want to do it even if it was hard. He wondered if that was resolve.

"I'm sorry I was harsh," Hihio said, the comment catching Mahi off guard. "I was angry because I was scared. I don't want you becoming something the humans won't understand. I want you to be better than them, better than me. It's what all..." the elder's words trailed off, and he seemed to compose himself. "Just be better."

"I will," Mahi said.

"And please don't scare poor Uila like that," Hihio patted his shoulder, "she frets enough as it is."

"Okay," Mahi chuckled. He did feel bad for scaring her. She was his friend. So were Genmu, Okoto, and all the other tadpoles. Suddenly he thought about the whole school, how much he'd hate to see them scared or faced with things such as these warships, and decided then and there that he'd never let that happen. The decision, rather, the declaration to himself was clear, and he understood now what he felt. It was resolve.

Chapter 16: The Edge

Chapter Text

Nothing was more romantic than a chariot ride. Within the deep industrialized heart of the city, where fancy cars, buses, trams, and subways gave people no shortage of high-tech and efficient travel, the luxury of horse-drawn carriage should've gone long extinct. Yet the service persisted, for the right price, carrying folks through the less crowded streets and pathways of the park. Fittingly, the traditional quaintness of the carriage made it a symbol of love. Carrying couples, spouses, and newlyweds who wished to enjoy an intimate and romantic trip through time in comfort and luxury.

Yet there was nothing romantic about this. The stables where the horses were kept was far from a picture of serenity. It was chaos. The animals screamed and thrashed about their pens as Erin passed them towards what she instinctively knew would be a gruesome scene. Even before she smelled it, she could hear it, the wet crunch and revolting heaving. She stepped lightly, keen to retain the element of surprise as long as she could, and as Erin neared the end of the stables her fears were confirmed.

The fake gorged itself on one of the horses, feverishly, like a mad animal that hadn't eaten in weeks. The horse was nearly half gone, hollowed out as its carcass jerked with each bite. The fake didn't seem to notice Erin, though she was nearly in its line of sight, it was far too focused on its meal. Its fur was matted down with blood, and scraps of clothing still clung to its over muscled body. From the looks of the tattered overalls that hung into the gore, it was possible this creature was once the stable boy. Erin felt pity for the slain horse, yet also felt some relief that the fake's first victim wasn't a human at least. She breathed slowly, her helmet masking the sound, and carefully moved herself into position to jump it. If she could do enough damage fast enough it may revert to human form like the Commissioner did. Erin braced herself, ready to attack, and just as she was about to pounce, two yellow-green eyes darted in her direction.

It lunged at her, careening both of them through the double doors behind them. The fake slashed at her, bit at her, but Erin didn't flinch. Instinct and adrenaline had taken over, and she powered through the pain in order to punch the fake in the mouth. Its head snapped from the force, staggering it, and she took the opportunity to push the beast away. It slammed into a carriage, having evidently brought them into the garage where they were stored. Erin rolled away to her feet just as the carriage came crashing down on her, slamming her into the floor as it exploded into splinters. The fake wasted no time grabbing her, its claws digging into her membrane and armour, picking her up and driving her face-first into the concrete. It pummeled her again, and on the third hit she managed to brace herself with all four limbs, only for the enraged beast to fling her away with one hand. Erin went crashing through the garage door, out into the streets, tumbling across the cobblestone driveway in front of the carriage house.

"Erin, are you alright?" Mercer asked over the radio, "should I send Mahi to help?"

"No," she panted, rising to her feet, "I got thi-" The fake slammed into Erin with the force of a semi truck, barreling towards the busy street. She dug her heels into the ground to stop them, grappling the creature with her claws dug into its hide. It was like fighting a bear, the muscle in its arms hard as steel to the point where her fingertips pinched as they tensed. So much strength, so much power, and all from an injection. Erin had to end this quickly, before the fake hurt anyone, or itself. She had to remember this was an innocent civilian.

"Watch out!" Mercer cried, only for Erin to see the fake's jaws shoot towards her. It clamped its head around her helmet, biting down with crushing force. Everything went dark as she heard its teeth scrape against the outside, and the crack of the helmet itself beginning to fail. She couldn't let go of its arms or it would grab hold and rip her apart, but if it kept biting she'd lose her head. Erin could feel the heat of its breath, the stench of its gut, the wet slime running down her neck. She had to act fast.

She pushed off the ground, pulling her legs up and wrapping her thighs around its neck, and squeezed with all her might. Erin felt her spine hyperextend as she bent in half, her arms twisting at the shoulders, but as she applied pressure the fake's bite began to weaken. Squeezing its airway closed, her legs pressed on the base of its jaw, forcing the teeth apart long enough for her head to slip free, and like a branch snapping back she unfolded and kicked herself away, only to land right in the middle of traffic where she was immediately struck by an oncoming car. Her head slammed against the windshield as she rolled over top of it, the vehicle swerving into a streetlamp as Erin fell limp onto the asphalt.

"Er-n?" Mercer's voice was patchy and filled with static, "-rin, you -right? My signa-'s -utt- ou-" The doctor's voice disappeared, cut off by the damage to her helmet. Erin slowly rose to her feet, holding her head. Her visor was cracked, she could see her own blood dotting the inside, and her neck was in pain. She was in a daze, but was snapped out of it by the sound of an ear-splitting scream. Erin turned towards the car that hit her and saw the fake clawing away at it. There was a woman inside, the driver, backed into the passenger seat as it tried to press its face through the driver's side window to get her. The fake dug its claws into the chassis, shearing the metal like tissue as the terrified driver pressed herself against the passenger door mere inches out of reach. Her legs were tucked to her chest as the fake's claws tore at the seats and dashboard.

"Hey!" Erin shouted, trying to get its attention, but its focus was squarely on the driver. Erin pulled herself up, limping towards the car as her broken bones tried to heal. She picked up her pace, but it was a light jog at best, not enough to throw her weight. Erin grabbed the fake by its fur, trying to pull it out, but it bellowed in her face and struck her so hard she went slamming into the brick of a nearby building. Erin slumped to the ground, her head spinning as everything fell out of focus. The fake was fixated on the woman in the car, her panicked screams provoking its response. Like a predator singling out the weaker prey, it wanted the food it had cornered. Erin struggled to stand, and knew she was out of time.

Erin pushed the second switch on the Assembler. She had no choice, not with the woman moments from being devoured. The follow-up vial emptied into her veins, filling her with a vigor and sudden spike of energy. Her muscles bulged, tensed, and she sprung up like she'd been shot with adrenaline. She dropped onto all fours and bounded towards the fake, slamming into its back and pushing it into the car. She then leapt off, grabbing it by the hide and pulling it away before slamming her fist into its gut. The monster belched blood and bile as the force ruptured its innards, but it didn't drop, instead it looked even angrier. It slashed at Erin, or rather where she had been, only for her to appear behind it like a mirage. The fake turned, swiping at the open air again as she moved too quick, and by the time it realized where she actually was, Erin's outstretched claws shot out, pierced flesh, and there was only the briefest scream before it fell silent. A moment later, as the fake stood still, its head slowly dropped forward before falling off and hitting the ground.

Erin's hands trembled, dripping with blood, palms up as she stood in the street above the creature's corpse. It happened so fast. She didn't think. She didn't have time to think. She just wanted to stop it, to hurt it, enough to save the woman in the car. It was all she could do. The panic gave way to justification as the rush subsided, and Erin knew she did what she had to, for the civilians. She looked into the car where the driver still huddled up against the passenger side door.

"Are you alright?" Erin asked, her voice cracking whilst doing so, but the girl inside didn't reply. She simply kept shaking, tears streaming down the look of shock on her face. Erin looked at her bloodsoaked hands again, her claws curled upwards as she realized what she must look like, and was about to ask the driver again when she heard a sound. It was an odd noise, wet and crunching, like meat being stretched. She turned around to the remains of the fake, its head resting a foot away from its neck, and watched the body tremble and convulse. At first Erin thought it might somehow still be alive, but it wasn't. She knew what was happening, she saw it before, and her heart sank in her chest as the body began to shrink. Hair fell off in clumps, skin tones lightened, extremities regressed, and in a matter of moments the fake was gone, and in its place was the body of a young man. Erin's hands shook as she looked at the body in front of her, the lifeless gaze on its face, and felt her legs give out. She crumpled to her knees as she reached out, agonizingly, to the human being she'd just killed. It was just a boy, no older than twenty, his features and complexion fair and youthful. Just a boy. Innocent.

"Police!" Someone shouted, pulling Erin out of her trance, "hands where I can see 'em!" She hadn't even heard the sirens, but as she looked up to her right she saw four officers with guns pointed, one of which was a detective in a coat. As he noticed her his expression shifted, his gun lowering as he recognized her, and she recognized him.

"Alex...?" Erin whimpered, her claws still dripping with blood as she turned to them, standing up as she reached out to him.

"Don't move!" One of the other officers shouted, but yet another one saw her advance and fired his gun. This caused the other two beat cops to shoot as well, even as Alex shouted at them to hold their fire. The bullets struck Erin, not breaching the membrane, but felt like a gut punch. She used the second vial, meaning her transformation was almost over, and so she turned and ran. The officers gave chase as she ducked into an alley, clutching her side where she was shot. The officers gave chase despite Alex's warning, and as they rounded the corner they found the alley empty. That was until they heard the rattling of metal above, and craned their necks upwards to see Erin scurrying up a fire escape. One of the officers shot again, even as Alex forcibly pushed his weapon down, and another bullet struck her back. Erin didn't stop, she kept climbing, even when she reached the top of the highrise. She slipped onto the snowy rooftop, her legs feeling weak and sore from the fight, and almost tripped as she broke into a run. She dropped to all fours, sprinting across the roof and towards another building next to it, leaping off and digging her claws into the concrete wall. Her arms felt weak, her back and sides were in pain, but she kept climbing. She scaled the skyscraper in minutes, even knowing her transformation might end any minute, but Erin managed to pull herself onto the roof and roll onto the snow, leaving her lying face up on the rooftop.

It all seemed like a bad dream. A recurring nightmare. The same images over and over, the same twisted turn of events. The same story told in different, horrifying ways. It never stopped. There was never not death. The killing, the hurting, the misery. Every time she felt like she was moving forward, coming to grips, a piece of her heart was peeled off and burned. That boy was just an innocent. He didn't want to be turned. He was probably working part-time, maybe putting himself through college, maybe supporting a family. She didn't want to kill him. She didn't mean to. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. Erin couldn't breathe. She couldn't understand. She rolled over onto her knees, wrenched at the helmet on her head, then pulled it off and tossed it aside as she wept into the snow, heaving. She needed air. She needed to escape. The helmet was a prison, a cage, trapping her in this nightmare, but even with it off it didn't end. The Assembler on her arm started to beep, the warning that the transformation would soon cancel, and Erin screamed. She grabbed the device, ripping it off, her body violently peeling away the membrane as she returned to normal, and she threw the device across the roof as she screamed.

"Why!?"

Erin's voice echoed above the rooftops, travelling to nowhere, and waited for an answer. Yet no answer came. No one was listening, and even if they were, no one could help her. There was no answer, no logic, no meaning behind any of it. Erin thought that if she fought she could take back control of her life. If she fought she could, just maybe, make the killing stop. It never stopped, however, no matter what she did or what she was. People died when she was human, people died when she was a wolf, and now people died as she hung in the limbo between them. The Assembler was supposed to empower her. It had empowered her. Yet nothing changed. She was no stronger.

Erin sat on her knees in the snow, watching tiny pockmarks appear in the white fluff before her as her tears dropped. It just seemed hopeless. What started as a need for justice had become so distorted. They were just four against God knows how many. Monsters appearing without rhyme or reason, just when Erin thought things might be turning around. It was impossible to keep up, impossible to predict, and impossible to not feel like it didn't matter in the end. People still died, and they didn't come back. He didn't come back. Erin was fighting a battle she'd already lost.

Erin's eyes lifted as she looked at the Assembler, tossed near the edge of the roof, and her eyes continued past it. Her expression was null as she stood up, and walked towards it, only to continue past the device and towards the edge. Erin stopped, looking down over the short wall that separated her from a fifty story drop. She rested her hands on the edge, feeling the wind pick up as it pushed against her back, and she squeezed her eyes shut as more tears ran down her face. She climbed on to the ledge, the tips of her shoes just barely extending over the void, and took a deep breath.

"Erin?" A voice came from behind her. She turned to see the door to the roof ajar, and Alex panting as he stood in the doorway. He huffed, "Erin, what are you doing?"

"I..." Erin uttered, her voice hoarse and weak, "I can't do this anymore."

"Erin, please," the exhausted officer slowly approached her, "we can talk about this. What you did, it wasn't your fault-"

"Of course it was!" She shouted, "I can't do it anymore, I can't be this... this... thing anymore!" Erin looked down at the streets below, how far away they seemed. "I just want it to end. It's not worth it. All this fighting, and killing, and misery... all for someone who's already gone. I thought it was all I had left, but there is nothing left. Just... hell."

"You don't mean that," Alex approached her slowly, "I know you."

"How could you?" She asked, "I don't even know myself. I thought I did, but every time I close my eyes I just see a monster. I see his face, I see the man I killed before, and now..." Erin squeezed her eyes shut, "I see that boy, too."

"You saved that woman's life!" Alex said, "you've saved so many lives. Look for their faces when you close your eyes instead, look at the people you've helped! Look at the people still here!"

Erin gritted her teeth. Alex's words clashed with what she felt. She couldn't see them, not with the ones who were gone burned into her eyes like sunspots. Alex stepped towards her, only to stop as he saw the Assembler on the ground. He picked up the device, shaking the snow off, then looked at her.

"Not everyone can be a hero at the push of a button," Alex said, "and maybe there's a reason for that. But you put this thing on for a reason. Back at the parking garage you made a choice."

"I chose wrong," Erin uttered, "I did it because I was scared, because I wanted to save Luke. I didn't think about what it would mean."

"He forced you to use it?" Alex asked.

"No," she replied.

"Did the doctor? Did Mahi?" Alex asked. She shook her head.

"Nobody forced me," Erin's jaw trembled. "I made the choice... and so everything that's happened since has been my fault."

"Then that also means Hartwell surviving was your fault," Alex said, "or that busload of people, the woman in the car, and God knows who else those monsters didn't get their hands on." Alex slowly approached the edge, still a safe distance from Erin, but close enough that she could see him just by turning her head. He reached into his coat and pulled out his badge, holding it in one hand, the Assembler in the other. "I know how heavy these things are. I know that when you take on a burden like this, all you can think of is where you went wrong. People expect you to be perfect, you expect to be perfect, the good you do doesn't get commemorated. The lives you save aren't jotted down in some ledger, you aren't haunted by those still with us." Alex let out a sigh, "doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"No," Erin said, "it doesn't."

"It's hard to let go of your past," he continued, "but I don't think you're supposed to. You're not meant to escape it, you're not meant to be absolved of your actions, you're meant to grow from them. It's just natural."

"Nothing about this is natural," Erin uttered as she felt the wind at her back. "Monsters made in a lab. Mythical creatures and genetic experiments... it's like a nightmare. None of this is nature taking its course."

"If it wasn't monsters and experiments, it'd be something else," Alex leaned on the edge, "somebody somewhere would be hurting someone else. A giant wolf creature, or a serial killer, or just some punk with a gun, it's the same result. The world never stops being cruel, it just chooses new ways to do it."

"Then why bother?" Erin asked as she stood on the edge. "If it's all going to be the same in the end... Why not just give up? Why put yourself through it?"

"Because I'm not doing it for myself," Alex said, "just like you didn't do this for yourself." Erin laughed.

"That's just it, Alex," she smiled even as tears welled in her eyes, "I did do it for myself. I thought if I was strong I wouldn't be hurt again. I wanted to take charge of my life, fight back, be like... be like him. I saw how Luke fought and wanted it so badly. I wanted to be able to protect myself, but more than that, I wanted to be invincible. "

"Are you?" Alex asked. Erin shook her head. He let out a sigh, "I'll admit, when I first saw him walking out of that fire, I felt the same. Yet when the helmet came off, and he went back to normal, all I saw was a tired, miserable man." Alex placed the Assembler on the edge between them both, but didn't make any moves towards her. "I don't think anyone knows that better than him, yet he still puts it on."

"But I'm not like him," Erin uttered. "He's stronger..."

"You don't have to be like him," Alex said, "maybe that's why you feel weak, maybe that's why you feel so lost, because you're comparing yourself to someone else. Everyone's different, it doesn't make them better. There's always going to be someone stronger, more capable at other things. God knows I've seen him lose, too. You don't have to be the best there is..." Erin saw Alex extend his hand out of the corner of her eye, "you just have to do your best. That's plenty."

Erin looked one more time at the ground below, then to Alex's hand. It still hurt. It hurt so much. The boy's face was still in her mind. Kyle's face was still in her mind. Yet accompanying both was another image. An image of a monster, and behind that monster was the knowledge of where it came from. The source of those monsters, and the source of more to come. Erin carefully knelt down as she reached for his hand, taking it, and he helped her off the edge. The realization of what she almost did hit, and she threw her arms around him, and Alex embraced her back.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be," Alex replied. "You made the right choice." After a few more moments Erin stepped back, ashamed, but not crying. Not anymore. She turned to the Assembler still sitting in the snow on the edge of the roof, mere inches from where her footprints were. She picked up the device, gripping it tightly.

"What about the other cops?" She asked.

"We split up," Alex said, "I saw the direction you ran and when I heard your scream I took the elevator." Alex sighed as he rubbed his neck, thinking of an excuse, "I'll just say I lost you."

"I'm sorry you have to keep lying," Erin said.

"Yeah, well, not so much these days," Alex said. "Granted, I haven't told anyone anything, but some of us at the precinct are starting to doubt this whole publicity spiel. Quite a few on the force have taken notice of the convenience of CB and this 'werewolf' problem."

"What do they plan to do?" She asked.

"Nothing yet," he replied, "but I know at least one guy who went and bought silver bullets."

"Smart," Erin nodded, much to Alex's confusion.

"Wait, the silver thing is real?" He asked, Erin nodded. Alex's eyebrows raised, "damn, and here we all made fun of him for being superstitious."

"Silver is like poison to the-" Erin caught herself, "to us. Our wounds won't heal like normal and if it hits our heart..." Erin let the implication hang before she started to consider. "How trustworthy are these cops?"

"Very," Alex said. "No one's really made a move, mostly because we don't really know who is or is not buying this whole thing, but like I said, it's got a lot of the good ones doubting. Especially in regards to the 'task force' that no one seems to know anything about despite supposedly recruiting from the police."

"It might be good to have some police on our side," Erin mulled over the possibility of sharing their secret. "I'll have to bring it up with the others, but if Angela wants to mobilize an army, we need more than just the three of us."

"I can start feeling around," Alex put his hands in his pockets, noticing Erin was still dressed in a light jacket with no hat or gloves. "By the way, aren't you cold?"

"Not so much anymore," she said. As Erin looked at her jacket her eyes caught something on the roof. She noticed her helmet was still intact, laying in the show, and she quickly jogged over to pick it up. "Damn, I guess it doesn't go away if I take it off before changing back."

"We're gonna want to hide that," Alex said, "they'll be looking for that helmet. Let me take you back to your apartment."

"Sure," Erin nodded, unzipping her jacket to hide the helmet at least somewhat beneath her coat. Alex joined her as they made their way to the door, and as they walked Erin took a moment to look up at him, "thank you."

Chapter 17: Henshin

Chapter Text

The bottle dropped on the park pathway, shattering, the remainder of its contents seeping into the gaps in the cobblestone. The drink didn't do anything. It didn't make the pain stop. It was the only thing of substance, though. The only thing in this bland, tasteless world of empty filler. A world so vivid to the eye, so piercing to the ear, yet the one sensation craved beyond all others was dull. Blanche. It was a cruel joke, a twisted prank. See everything, hear everything, but when it came to the basic tenet of sustenance, that was where it went blunt. Blunt and meaningless. Unsatisfying. Worse than unsatisfying, discouraged, like a gag reflex to eating something you shouldn't. 'This isn't food' the body cried, rejecting it, demanding recourse. Chewing from the inside, burning as the body ate itself for nutrients. 'Go out and find food' it shouted, picking away at the stomach walls. Decades, if not more, spent trying to solve the puzzle. Was it fluids? Drinking seemed like a workaround. Drinking seemed to carry with it some exception. Every body needed water, so it seemed like a possibility. But eventually that was proven to be a hollow victory. Liquid wouldn't suffice. It didn't carry what was needed, it just got a free pass. What about other foods? Things that seemed close? Animals, animal products, raw meats from a butcher. It seemed to work, it almost did, but again the success was short-lived. In the grand scheme of life it was a mere instant of false satisfaction before the body roared back.

'This isn't food.'

Then what? What was? What did you want? Years spent begging for an answer, yet he knew perfectly well. A farmer with his back turned to the woods. A soldier wounded in a bombed-out trench. A woman walking the gaslit streets of a darkened town. A hunter who stalked the wrong prey. And now, a couple on a night walk through the park.

'This is food.'

He stepped over the broken glass even as the couple turned to run through the grass, but it was pointless. They had no sooner started sprinting than he was in front of them. Their faces twisted into confusion and terror. They clutched one another, him putting himself in front of her. So gallant. The hope that whatever they were faced with could be fought. Struggling against the inevitable was such a human concept. That naivete was so juvenile. That defiant stand against that which no one could stand against. Some things you didn't fight. Some things you couldn't fight.

Something was coming. A noise, like an engine. Someone was on their way, through the park, coming towards them. He heard it long before they did, but soon all were alerted to the throaty roar of a motorcycle as the vehicle appeared from the darkened path, pulling up between the two parties. The vehicle was large, armoured, and its rider seemed to match as they dismounted the bike, propping it up on its kickstand. He examined the newcomer, and saw the strange suit he wore. It was dark, contoured to their muscled body, with a helmet that obscured their features. He was so fixated on this stranger that he didn't even notice the couple run away, or at least didn't care. It didn't matter what food was present, just that it was. The rider didn't speak, at least not to him, but seemed to talk to someone who wasn't present as he could hear their muffled voice even if it wasn't meant to be.

"Something's not right," the person inside the suit spoke, "the contact is a civilian." He spoke with a soft and fluent cadence, unbecoming of his imposing form. Yet there was an undeniable quirk to his scent. Synthetic, yet familiar.

"The coordinates are correct," a quieter voice seemed to come over a speaker in the individual's ear, "that is the target vector."

"But he's a normal man," the rider said, "just a mugger, perhaps, but not a-" He struck the rider with an uppercut, sending him flying over his motorcycle and onto the cobblestone path. As strange as they were, it didn't matter. Food was food. He walked towards the rider, kicking the massive motorcycle aside with ease, only to stop when the unthinkable happened: the rider began to stand up.

Impossible. That punch should've easily killed any human being, if nothing else, his neck should be broken. Yet the rider stood as if he'd just been mildly dazed. It was even more surprising when the man in the helmet struck back, with speed unthinkable, and struck him across the jaw with enough force to knock him down. This wasn't right. Utterly confused, he was slow to stand as the rider bore down on him, trying to get him in a headlock.

"Confirmed, contact is target vector," he said, "somehow it's taken on a human form." The rider didn't receive a response, and turned their head slightly in confusion. "Ichimonji? Do you read me?" The rider didn't get an answer before they were thrown off, tumbling across the grass. He shrugged his shoulders, still taken aback by the rider's strength, but nevertheless not interested in prolonging things any further.

"Fine," he uttered, "if it's gotta be that way." The man who moments ago appeared to be just a normal human ripped his shirt off, revealing a scarred and pitted body. A small stone pendant hung from a long chain around his neck, resting on his bare chest, a chest that bulged with muscle. His whole body seemed far bigger than before, bulging and growing, the hair thickening and elongating until it almost entirely covered his skin. His face, hidden behind loose, unkempt hair, began to twist and contort. His jaw elongated, his ears pointed, and his eyes seemed oddly visible despite the low light. As if they started to glow. The man was now nearly twice his size, his anatomy twisted into something inhuman, the sensation of the change felt like a tension being relieved, a weight being lifted. It shouldn't feel that good. He looked down at his hands, now enlarged into claws, and clenched his fists.

"Are you gonna answer me?" Mahi asked.

"What?" Luke asked, looking up at him.

"I said: when was the last time you transformed?" The young mer asked, and Luke looked down at his fists. He relaxed his hands. His normal, human hands.

"About two years ago," Luke replied.

"Two years is a long time," Mahi nodded as he stared across the rooftops, snow drifting down from the bright white void above. "Do you ever feel tempted?"

"No," Luke said. Mahi gave him a look, but didn't say anything.

"But you want to fight again, right?" He asked, "at least, that's what I gleaned from you and Mercer's conversation."

"That's not a surprise," Luke said as he pulled a small bag from his pocket. "I'll have to eventually." He popped the bag open, eating the small cookies within.

"You know those aren't healthy for you," Mahi said. Luke didn't respond, he just popped another mini cookie into his mouth. Mahi sighed. "Why are you afraid of transforming?"

"Who says I'm afraid?" Luke asked as he crunched away.

"Come on, bro," Mahi shook his head, "drop the tough guy act for once."

"As soon as you drop the 'surfer dude' bit," Luke said.

"It ain't a bit, bro," Mahi said. Luke continued to munch away, ambivalent to Mahi's words. Mahi pulled a loose strand of blonde hair away from his face, held up his hand, and shifted it into a translucent, liquid form.

"When I first discovered I could do this, I didn't have anyone to coach me," he began, "I could only experiment. No one in my school ever knew anyone like me. Not personally at least, but Hihio told me that I was special. He told me it was a gift, and I had to be responsible. I believed him." Mahi changed forms, assuming his legged merman state as he stretched the large fin on his back. He held his arms out to catch the snow as it fell, the flakes absorbing into his yellow-green skin.

"Turns out my father wasn't entirely honest with me," Mahi said. Luke could see the pensive look in his eyes as he seemed to stare off to nowhere. "It wasn't long after the 'gift' pep talk that we travelled East to meet with a pod on the coast of Japan. I made a lot of friends there, but I also met someone very special. An old rough-fin who, somehow, knew what I was. He'd seen the gift I had, generations ago, and was waiting to see who would be born with it next. In retrospect, I wonder if that's why Hihio brought us there, but my dad was suspiciously mum on the topic, leaving me to get answers on my own."

"Answers to what?" Luke asked.

"To whatever he wasn't telling me," Mahi replied. He took a deep sigh, the gills on his face flaring as he put his hands on his hips. "What I am has a lot of names, some cool, some not, but in that part of the world there's a very specific word: Umibozu."

"The yokai folklore?" Luke asked.

"Yeah," Mahi said. "The giant spirit that appears in the ocean to terrify sailors and turn calm waters into raging waves. Not that I'm Japanese, or a spirit, or that I sink boats. It's a human word for my kind, and the more I learned from the old rough-fin, the more I realized why Hihio wanted to hammer home that message of self-restraint." Mahi's body began to ripple as he turned clear, and his water form spread over the rooftop, seeping into the snow and melting it into water. This combined mass of liquid then gathered, growing and reforming, until a giant translucent figure of Mahi's mer form appeared on the rooftop. Luke instinctively took a step back, though he wasn't afraid, rather he had to in order to comprehend the size. A moment later the Mahi water sculpture seemed to freeze, turning white and fluffy, until it exploded into a sudden snowstorm that caused Luke to drop his bag and shield his face from the flurry, and when he looked back he saw Mahi standing in his human form, arms crossed.

"You're not the only dangerous monster here," Mahi said with a stern expression. Luke had no expression, merely looking at the ground where his bag had fallen.

"I wasn't finished with those," he sighed, then looked back up at Mahi. "I'm guessing you don't show people that often"

"To be honest, you're the first," Mahi admitted. "I've only done it once before, in the ocean. There I was able to absorb and control a lot more than this." Mahi looked at the snow scattered across the rooftop, "I spent a long time afraid of what I was. I think deep down Hihio was, too."

"I don't think your father was afraid of you," Luke said.

"No," Mahi nodded, "but he was afraid of what I could do, and what it would do to me. I was coming of age when we travelled to Japan, and I didn't have any sense of control over this. I never did anything bad, but if I got upset I might fire a jet of water, or kick up a wave, or even just lose my constitution and dissolve into the water. I noticed I never had to worry about coming back from being water, but just because this ability kept me safe, doesn't mean it kept anyone else safe."

"So what did you do?" Luke asked.

"Simple," Mahi shrugged. "I asked the rough-fin to teach me."

"He was an 'umibozu' too?"

"Nope," Mahi replied, "just a regular old mer fraying at the tips, but he didn't need to be one. He taught me about controlling my inner self. I had this misplaced idea that I needed to suppress what I was. Like I had to hold it back, pretend it wasn't there, and fight my instincts. But I was wrong. Warring with yourself only makes the turmoil worse. It makes that part of you fight back as well, when really it's about accepting yourself entirely. When you accept yourself as a whole, not divided into irreconcilable halves, you grow and you change. You change your body and soul, and become a master of all sides of yourself. The rough-fin called it 'henshin,' literally changing form, a metamorphosis."

"And you want to teach me that balance, too?" Luke asked.

"I'm gonna try," Mahi held up his hands in an emphatic shrug. "I'll admit, for a while I didn't completely trust you. I didn't know if you were just holding yourself back, keeping the beast at bay, y'know? But I don't see a guy who's fighting back against his inner demons. In fact, for these last three days, I don't think I've seen you happier."

"What does me being happy have to do with it?" Luke asked.

"Because if you were a monster just looking to hurt people, you wouldn't be putting off turning back to normal," Mahi said, crossing his arms. "You don't want to go back, do you?"

"That's a stupid question," Luke pulled a carton of cigarettes from his jacket. "If I don't change back, Erin will have to keep fighting alone. We need the edge."

"But is it what you want?" Mahi asked. Luke didn't answer, he just popped a cigarette and lit it, only to cough on the first drag and almost drop it. Mahi plucked the cigarette from his mouth and tossed it away. "You know, if you are going to stay human for a while, you're gonna want to quit."

"Y'know, I wanted to," Luke said, "but for some reason I keep feeling the urge to smoke. Force of habit, I guess."

"I think that's called 'addiction,'" Mahi sighed with a smile. "Some of the worst things in this world are hard to quit. It's up to you to have that resolve."

"Is that what you plan to teach me?" Luke asked. Mahi nodded.

"That stone in your chest," Mahi pointed at Luke's heart, "that proves you've still got what it takes to transform. Whether it's just gone dormant or something, I dunno, but you're going to need to understand how it works. I know when I go full fish mode, it feels like I'm relaxing a muscle. Like I'm exhaling a breath I've been holding for a long time. What about you?"

"You could say that," Luke said. "With me... it's more like I'm dropping a weight. Like I'm finally just unloading every part of my body. I don't always go all the way, my last time I only transformed partially, but..." Luke's gaze drifted off, away from Mahi and towards the white haze that surrounded them. "My heart wasn't in it."

"Is that why you're afraid of letting go?" Mahi asked, "because it's too easy to let loose?"

"It's not that at all," Luke explained, "I can change whenever I want, to whatever degree I want. I could turn a fingernail into a claw right now." Luke looked at his own hand, his fingers slightly curled, "but if I do, it comes back, and it comes back hard."

"What comes back?" Mahi asked.

"The hunger," Luke said. "The irresistible... it's strong, alright? I'd probably be changing just thinking about it if I wasn't going through what I'm going through right now. It's not just the physical burden, I can handle that, it's the dog that wants to hunt that I can't control." Luke closed his hand into a fist, as if merely being mentioned stirred something within. "He spends his days chained and starved, and the longer I go without feeding him the... the worse he gets. The Assembler lets me change without breaking that chain, but if I tried to do it without that gizmo, we'd all be f*cked."

"That dog is you, dude," Mahi said, "that's what I'm talking about. There's no other ego inside of you, you're denying a part of yourself, creating that dichotomy. Those chains are around you."

"You don't understand," Luke said, "you're not designed from the ground up to be a killer. Sea spirit or not, you're not wired to crave human flesh. You can throw on a convenient disguise and surf your days away hitting on beachgoers all you want, but I'm stuffed into this skin coffin." Luke grasped his own skin, tugging it until it turned white. "Every moment I risk bursting at the seams. The only reason I haven't is because of Doc's drugs. They keep it asleep, and they keep me docile."

"They didn't keep you docile back at the lab," Mahi said. "You got your taste of human flesh there."

"f*ck you," Luke spat.

"That's not what I meant," Mahi said, "I don't judge you-"

"You sure sound like you do," Luke said. "I wasn't in control then-"

"You absolutely were!" Mahi said, "and I don't care. If anything I think what you did proves you're not the monster you think you are." Luke looked at Mahi with utter confusion, his eyes narrowed to a perplexed glare. "You killed a lot of people that night. You drank their blood, which is close enough to what you want, and yet you still came back. I don't think you suddenly becoming human is the reason, either, I think that was just a fluke after the fact. If you were really this unstoppable, insatiable beast, you wouldn't have just stopped."

"You don't know anything," Luke huffed as he turned towards the door, only for Mahi to run in between them. Luke shot him a glare, "get out of my way. We're done here."

"Not until we tackle this problem," Mahi said. "You want to keep fighting? Then we talk this out. There's only one Assembler, so unless you want to keep tagging out-"

"I said move," Luke grabbed Mahi's shirt, but Mahi grabbed him, easily pulling his arm free. He then jerked it to one side, spinning Luke, and pinning it behind him as Mahi shoved him away.

"Is this what it's gotta be, then?" Mahi asked. Luke didn't answer, he just spun and lashed out, swinging his fists as the young mer easily dodged each one. Luke attempted to grab him, but he was slow, and Mahi didn't even have to try hard at all to evade it, leaving Luke to fall into the snow. Mahi crossed his arms, looking down as Luke remained on his knees. "If you think I'll knock you around like those dudes at the bar, think again. I won't enable your masochism."

"You don't know anything," Luke uttered.

"Come on, brother," Mahi sighed as he bent down to help him up, "let's get you out of the-" Luke grabbed Mahi by the arm, pulling him down as Luke turned upward, bringing his knee up to his chest and placing his foot on Mahi's, kicking him up and over as he threw him across the roof. Mahi tumbled into the snowy gravel just as Luke leapt, slamming his foot down where Mahi's head was just moments before. Mahi got up to his knees just in time to block a kick that sent him rolling back. He rolled onto his feet just in time for Luke to try and sweep his legs, but he jumped back, only for Luke to spring forward and throw his elbow into Mahi's head. He stumbled, Luke kicked again, but this time Mahi grabbed his leg and twisted, throwing him to one side. Luke rolled to his feet as Mahi went on the offensive, striking with his own kicks that Luke dodged. Mahi backed him towards an air unit on the roof, which Luke rolled backwards onto and over, and when Mahi jumped onto the unit to follow, Luke grabbed his ankles, pulling him down and slamming him onto the unit. Luke threw his foot high and brought it down just as Mahi rolled away, the metal denting on impact. Luke spun to attack again and Mahi quickly changed forms as he thrust his arm forward, palm out, right into Luke's chest. The air was forced out of his lungs by the strength behind the blow, and Luke clutched his chest as he fell to one knee.

"What the hell is your problem?" Mahi was panting heavily as he was still knelt in his legged mer form, "are you actually masoch*stic? Or just insane? I'm trying to help you, all I wanted was to talk."

"I know," he uttered.

"Then why?" Mahi asked.

"Because this..." Luke wheezed, "is how I talk. Words are cheap, but this-" Luke motioned between the two of them, "this is how you really understand someone. There's no clearer dialogue."

"Oh yeah?" Mahi asked. "So what did this tell you?"

"That we are somewhat alike," Luke said as he propped himself up on the air unit. "You were gonna hit me with a water jet just now, but you didn't, because you know it'd probably kill me." Mahi didn't say anything, but his expression hardened into an uncharacteristic glower. Luke seemed to notice this, and a hint of a smile appeared on his face. "Don't look so frowny, it's a compliment."

"If you say so," Mahi huffed. Luke stood up, reclaiming his breath, but when he tried to take a step he stumbled, and Mahi was forced to catch him. "Easy, bro, just take a minute."

"I'm fine," Luke said, "I'm just... feeling off."

"Probably because you just fought," Mahi explained, "and your injuries from last night haven't healed. Remember, humans don't just go back to one hundred percent overnight. You're gonna be feeling that barfight for a while, not to mention that hit of mine."

"Have you ever felt it?" Luke asked as Mahi helped him sit down on the air unit.

"Felt what?" He asked.

"Weak?" Luke clarified, and now it was Mahi's turn to look amused.

"We all feel weak, sometimes," he replied, taking a seat next to him. "To answer your question, though, yes. In recent memory, losing my arm and having to grow it back." Mahi's smile softened as he leaned onto his own knees, "and I feel weak every day when I watch Erin suffer through this change of hers, knowing there's nothing I can do."

"You love her?" Luke asked. Mahi didn't respond, but his answer was loud and clear. Luke likewise leaned forward on his knees, and in a rare move, actually looked Mahi in the eye as he spoke to him. "You do plenty. You help her every day just by being there."

"I wish that were true," Mahi chuckled. "I want to help, but I wonder if me being there... I wonder if I'm not causing more pain. I'm not even sure how she feels, or how I feel-"

"That's a lie," Luke said. "I think you both know exactly how you feel."

"Either way," Mahi sighed, "I'm not exactly up to par. I'm not going through what she's going through, and I think I'm just complicating her life."

"You don't need to experience someone's pain to help them heal," Luke said. "Just because you don't share a history doesn't mean you can't share a future."

"Since when do you know so much about relationships?" Mahi asked with a wry smile. "You're like the most antisocial person I've ever met."

"Doesn't mean I don't know what love is," Luke replied. Mahi waited for elaboration, but none came. Instead Luke hopped off the unit, working his sore spots as he stood in the chill wind on top of the highrise. "So about this henshin stuff..."

"Rad!" Mahi likewise dismounted with an eager expression, "okay, so maybe if I show you how I was taught?"

"By all means," Luke held up a hand as if allowing Mahi to pass.

"Remember what I said," Mahi began as he held his hands forward, "your other form is not a separate person. It may feel that way, but there are not two individuals in you. You are a complete whole, rearranging, inside and out. That's the first step to controlling it." Mahi held his hands up as if holding back an invisible object, then tilted his hands with his thumbs out so they joined at the tips of the thumb and index figures, creating a triangle shape. He then brought this close to his chest. "In the rough-fin's own words: your heart is the center of your body. It pumps vitality to every extremity, that's why our transformations begin there, but your emotions come from the brain-" Mahi turned his right hand inward, spreading his fingers and holding it up over his face while his left hand extended forward again. "Calm your mind and you will calm your heart. Your body and will must be in sync. As you feel the blood move to your limbs, feel it carry this will. Make every part of you resonate, and you will feel control over every part of you. Then, in unison-" Mahi's body began to ripple, turn translucent, and expand once again. The wind picked up, falling snow from the sky and the ice across the rooftop swirling towards him, absorbing into his body as it grew. Luke felt the wind tugging at him, and watched as the mer grew to nearly twenty feet tall.

"When your will and your body move as one," the massive water avatar spoke in a resounding voice, "you will never fear your 'other self' again, because there will be no 'other self' to fear." The massive merman seemed to harden, crystalize, freezing into an ice sculpture. The surface of the sculpture glistened as water ran down its shape, pooling at the base and reforming into mahi himself, who stepped away in his human form to admire his work.

"Neat trick," Luke remarked.

"Thanks," Mahi said, "I just came up with it now. I've never spent this much time out of the water in winter, so I never really thought about making ice before."

"That'll be useful," Luke remarked.

"Alright," Mahi turned to Luke, "now you try."

"Do I have to do the little hand motions?" He asked.

"No," Mahi replied, "but it helps to-" he suddenly turned his head, as if distracted by something, his face turning concerned.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked.

"Mercer's calling us," he replied. "Something's wrong." The two quickly headed for the door, rushing back down to the apartment. They burst through the door just as Mercer appeared from the hallway, propped up by his cane.

"What happened?' Mahi asked.

"I lost contact with Erin," the doctor explained. "She engaged a fake, it went for her head, and I lost communication. I still had video feed for a brief time, however, and..." Mercer looked away, his expression pained. "The fake was another like Hartwell, a bystander, but it threatened a civilian and Erin had to..."

"Oh God," Mahi uttered. His jaw clenched as his hands balled into fists, only to relax suddenly as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Go," Luke said. Mahi nodded. He turned to leave the apartment, letting the door slam behind him as Mercer and Luke were left alone. The doctor held his forehead as he shook his head.

"This is my fault," he uttered, "I should not have let her go alone."

"No," Luke said, "I'm tired of everyone blaming themselves. There's only one person responsible for all this." Luke glanced at his hands, recalling Mahi's words. He wondered about the idea of there being no 'other self,' that everything he did, that any of them did, was wholly down to their own responsibility. "We need to get me back in the game. We need to go on the offensive. You need the parts? It's time we went and got them."

Chapter 18: Waking Nightmare

Chapter Text

It began as it always did, with the rhythmic beeping of the oxygen machine. He'd turn his head to the side to see the pump slowly supply air in a moderate setting. The tubes in his nose were the first to come out, then he sat up, confused and disoriented. He didn't need an oxygen machine. Not anymore. He'd swing his fully functioning legs out of bed, standing tall as he pulled the IV from his arm next, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was young, fit, full of life. He didn't need these things. He didn't need to be here. He shouldn't be here.

What happened next was never certain. Sometimes he'd lay back in bed, sometimes he'd scream but no sound escaped, and sometimes he'd try to leave only to find the door locked. Yet something unprecedented happened this time. This time the door wasn't just unlocked, it was open. He was free to leave, free to explore, but something made him wary. Something inside was telling him that whatever was out there he wouldn't like, but the alternative was to stay trapped in the room. He looked at the hospital bed, the machines. He wouldn't go back. Anything was better than that.

He made his way out of the room, into cold, sterile hallways. It was like a hospital, but not quite. The hallways stretched forever in both directions, neither seeming the better route. Forwards or backwards, it was all unknown, an endless empty tunnel. He walked slowly down this infinite corridor, looking into the rooms. They had beds, same as the one he was in. Cramped confines, a closed window if they were lucky, and the entire place smelled of stale and decrepit life. Eventually he saw a person leaving one of the rooms. Their features were hazy, a blob, neither man nor woman, faceless, but they vaguely resembled hospital staff. They passed him like spectres, not paying any mind, and the moment they drifted out of view they simply vanished. He looked into the room where they had emerged, at the patient who was still inside.

It was a man. Elderly, but not so much as to need the wheelchair and oxygen machine he was attached to. There was something more the matter with him. His hair was gone, his skin wrinkled and speckled, his face null and void. It was disturbing, uncomfortable, but he didn't know why. Why did seeing this old man make him so afraid?

He continued on, walking until he saw another occupied room. The same old man was there as well, this time in bed, eyes open and staring at the ceiling. The next room had him in a wheelchair again, facing the window with the blinds shut. The next one had a bathroom, door ajar, one of the faceless staff helping the old man onto the toilet. Another room the man was being spoon fed. Another still had him being lifted into bed. It was undignified. It was dehumanizing. This withered old man duplicated in each room, always absent, always incapable of basic functions. He was like an empty shell. How many were there? How many were like this? Were they all like this? A carcass being puppeted through life. An existence of misery. It was not living at all.

"You shouldn't be up," a hollow voice came from behind him. He turned in the hallway to see another faceless orderly, distorted and trembling like a screen full of static. "Let's get you back in your chair."

"No," he said, "I don't need it." He looked down at his legs, healthy and youthful, like the rest of him, but the longer he stared the more they seemed to shrivel. As if looking at them caused him to waste away. He averted his eyes to stop the deterioration, but it didn't stop. His hands likewise lost their mass, the skin losing elasticity, wrinkling and withering. He felt weak, he couldn't stand. This wasn't right. He wasn't one of them.

"Let's get you back in your chair," the orderly repeated.

"No!" He cried, but he could feel the footrests of the wheelchair press against his heels. It was right behind him, but he dare not turn to look.

"You shouldn't be up, Mr. Alabaster," the orderly said. "You should never have gotten back up. You should never have tried to walk again."

"Don't make me do it!" He began to panic, pleading, crying. Mercury could feel his body evaporate, beyond even what he once was. It was as if he were decomposing, mummifying into a husk of dried skin and bone. He could no longer stand, his knees giving out, and he collapsed backwards as he fell into liquid. Fluid filled his lungs, and as he reached out his skeletal hands hit glass. He was in some kind of tube, a container, something to keep him alive. A specimen in a jar. A sample in a test tube. A rotting corpse in a vat.

Mercury awoke in his chair, propped up by his own arm. He felt the indentation of his knuckles on his jaw, and sat up straight to stretch his stiff limbs. He looked at his hand, the knuckles pink on the point of contact. He was still young. He was still alive. He pinched the rose flesh, feeling the tightness of it, watching it immediately spring back. It was still there. He had no reason to believe it wouldn't. It's not as though he'd simply age rapidly overnight. Then why did he fear exactly that would happen? Why were his dreams haunted by visions of invalidity? Mercury turned his eyes to the computer monitor next to him. He was going over the project files before he nodded off, initially just curious, but drawn into a series of questions he never knew he wanted answers to. The iterations were all logged, either in gene splicing or cloning procedures, and each had a corresponding facility use. Every iteration, either based on a human subject, or created from scratch, was a clone. A genetic copy of an individual with transplanted brain patterns, though the iterations never knew this. Each human subject would be sampled, analyzed, and their brain patterns mapped before termination. Their bodies were then used as raw protein material to accelerate the process, while the new iteration would be genetically predisposed to a certain transformative pattern, before being "turned" via metamorphic catalyst. This is how it had always been done when it came to the iterations that displayed unique qualities. A normal human turned wolfman would always result in the same, "standard" affair, but to really push the limits of what transformations were possible, modified genetic clones were insofar the only method, and each was carefully and meticulously logged and studied.

So why were there logged cloning procedures with no corresponding iteration? Failed or terminated iterations would still be there. Yet the iteration history had no gaps. Something was missing. Obfuscated. Mercury had the highest level clearance, second only to Wintergreen herself, so nothing should be above his access. Yet that was merely the hook, the first hint at something outside his realm of knowledge, the real abnormality was a single word, uttered offhandedly in a note to a note, seemingly by accident.

"Barghest."

Mercury knew well the historical meaning of the word. A monstrous, ghost-like wolf creature of English folktale that prowled at night, sometimes said to take human form. Though often described as other entities as well, the allusion to their own experiments was obviously not lost on him. What defied his comprehension was that he had no idea what this could mean. The context he discovered it within implied some kind of project title, and going through the high-level notes and files he could find no specificity, but did find something tangentially related: repeated mentions of "allocate to B." So information on iterations was being moved to this mysterious project, but to what end he couldn't be sure. All the information pertained to the "advanced" iterations, like the flight-capable one, the colony type, and even the baseless iteration derived from the merpeople's DNA. All allocated to "B." All part of this "Barghest."

Why wouldn't he be told? Why wouldn't he be part of this project? His expertise in genetic sequencing was second to only one. He'd be an asset, surely, yet for whatever reason Wintergreen had seen fit to not just keep him off the project, but in the dark. Something wasn't correct. Like the memories of his past engagements, the security footage of himself from before the golems' destruction. A man who looked like Mercury, sounded like Mercury, but whose actions seemed contrary. Was it his past transgressions that kept him away from this project? Was this punishment for his failures? It certainly seemed as likely as any explanation, yet at the same time did not sit right. He ruminated on this until the door to his quarters hissed open, one of his assistants stepping into the room.

"Apologies, sir," the young woman said, "but the iteration is moving to engage, and you wanted to be notified when contact was made."

"I did," Mercury said, standing up from his chair. He reached for his coat, used primarily to conceal the bodysuit he wore to assist his transformation, and hesitated. For a brief moment he saw something, something that wasn't there, something in his mind. An illusion, yet with the familiarity of a memory. Only it was no memory. Instead the hanging coat seemed to not be empty. He saw, for only an instant, the decayed remains of an emaciated corpse hanging within. Mercury closed his eyes, feeling the strain as if he'd been staring for minutes without blinking, and when he opened them the coat was normal.

"Sir?" The assistant asked, "is everything alright?"

"Yes," Mercury said, "everything's fine."

Chapter 19: Chest Pains

Chapter Text

Erin waited around the corner, poking her head out from the alley occasionally to look for Alex. He had only been gone a few minutes, but each second felt like it lasted an hour. She glanced down to the garbage cans next to her, and the damaged helmet tucked behind them out of sight. That helmet, and the woman who wore it, were wanted. She had to conceal it until they got home, but it wasn't just the fear of getting caught. Every time she looked at the helmet Erin felt her heart chill. Alex had convinced her to stay, to not let the guilt push her to end it all, but the guilt was still there. So many thoughts clashed within her, and she was ashamed to admit that some of them were selfish. Part of her wanted to just leave the thing with the garbage. Just throw away this nightmare life and run away, but that wouldn't be right.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Alex said as he rounded the corner, holding a large grocery bag. "They only give you the big bags if you buy something, y'know, big." He held up the large plastic sack and pulled out a sick pack of bottles. He pulled one off and handed it to Erin, "protein shake. I don't know if this helps you at all."

"Thank you," Erin managed a weary smile as she accepted the bottle. She twisted off the cap and drank, and Alex followed suit. It predictably had no flavour, but given the look on her friends' face, that might have been for the best.

"Yikes," Alex uttered. He looked at the bottle, "chocolate flavoured my ass." Erin didn't remark. It could've been hot peppers and onions and she wouldn't be able to tell the difference anymore. Flavour was waning. She wasn't even sure if a protein shake would do any good, given the rules of her new diet. It must have done something, however, as her stomach seemed somewhat sated. Erin glanced down at the helmet.

"What's happened to me?" She mumbled, and Alex let out a sigh.

"I can't say," he shrugged, "but you're going through a change, and that's never easy."

"A change," she uttered, "right... I'm not even human anymore."

"Is that so bad?" Alex asked, Erin looking at him in confusion, "humans aren't all they're cracked up to be. Maybe you're not human, maybe you're something better?"

"How can this be better?" Erin asked, "fighting... killing... suffering all the time. I just wanted to help, to try and stop this craziness, and now all I've done is made it worse."

"You're fighting to save people," he said, "you are helping them, not just saving them, but to stop the real monsters from ruining anymore lives. A lot of people would do anything for your power."

"They can have it," Erin said as she finished off her tasteless protein drink and tossed the empty bottle into one of the trash bins. She took the bag and picked up the helmet, stuffing it inside. It was concealed enough, at least not immediately obvious as the face of the killer loose on the streets. Alex was about to say something else when a garbled bout of static came from his back pocket. He pulled out his radio as the dispatch officer on the other end asked for a status report. Erin gave him a nod.

"I'll make something up," he sighed, then turned away to speak into the radio. Erin kept leaning on the brick and mortar, watching the sporadic snowflakes as they drifted down, her gaze falling to the street. She could see the fear that gripped this city. Few, if anyone, walked alone. Children were nowhere to be seen, kept hidden away at home coddled by the illusion of safety that gave. Children, parents, it all seemed to hit Erin. With everything that was happening she had been so preoccupied, and saw a payphone just a few metres down the sidewalk. Erin made her way to the booth, dropping her bag beneath the phone and shutting the door. She reached into her pockets, but had no change. She could ask Alex, but another thought popped into her mind. Though she wasn't proud of what she was about to do, Erin pushed her finger into the flat base of the phone. It resisted, but bent all the same, and her finger poked through the metal like it was cardboard with a satisfying pop. Erin grabbed some quarters from the inside and fed them back into the payphone before dialing the number she hoped she hadn't forgotten. After a few rings someone answered.

"Hello?" A woman's voice asked.

"Hi, mom," Erin said softly.

"Oh my god, Erin!" Her mother replied, breathing a sigh of relief, "thank God. We were so worried, we saw the news, all the things that have happened-!"

"I know," Erin, for some reason, felt a well of emotion inside her that bubbled suddenly to the surface, enough that she choked just trying to speak. "I meant to call, I did, but I've been busy, and I didn't know when you'd be home."

"It's fine," Monica replied, "that's not important, baby, I'm just glad you're alright."

"Yeah," Erin resisted the urge to correct her mother. She didn't need to know the details, "how's dad? What about the house?"

"Your father's doing just fine," Monica said, "he's recovering, and a few of his buddies came by and helped patch up the house." Her mother's exasperated tone seemed to mellow as Erin heard her breathe, "the things your father told me, I thought he was delirious from the broken leg, but... is it true? The things he described, the people in the mountains, and the woman who..."

"It is," Erin said stoically, "whatever dad told you, if anything, has been understated."

"I don't believe it," her mother sighed. "Erin, I'm so sorry, I wish there was something I could do."

"There is," Erin said, "you can stay with dad, stay at the house. Don't come into the city. It's not safe here, but our enemies won't come after you." Erin let out a nervous laugh, but the tears rolling down her cheeks betrayed her true anguish, "if anything I should be apologizing. There's so much I wish I did differently."

"You've done everything you can," Monica's voice likewise sounded as though she were on the brink of crying, "good heavens, there's so much I want to say to you, but I have a feeling I could beg on my hands and knees and you wouldn't come home. If it's not safe for us it's not safe for you, I don't care if you have that werewolf man."

"No," Erin swallowed her guilt for a moment, "I can't leave, not yet. I'll be fine, though, I promise. After all, I have Colonel, he's a way better guard dog than Luke."

"True," Monica's voice seemed to waver a bit, perhaps in a nervous laugh, "you take care of him and he'll take care of you, and I'm going to see you both again one day soon, understand?"

"Perfectly," Erin smiled. "I'll hand deliver him myself when the time comes, I promise." Erin noticed Alex walking towards the booth through the glass, and reluctantly understood her time was up. "I have to go now, alright? I'll call again, though, and soon. I swear."

"Please just be safe," Monica said, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Erin replied, and willed herself to hang up the receiver. Her change was deposited in the tray, but she left it there. It wasn't hers to take. She grabbed her bag with the damaged helmet and opened the booth's doors right as Alex reached her.

"Everything alright?" He asked.

"Just checking on my parents," Erin said, "I haven't had the chance to talk to them since we got back from Alaska."

"Alaska?" Alex asked incredulously, though Erin didn't respond. It was honestly one of the last things on her mind, after everything that had happened, and right now Erin just wanted to go home. They continued to walk the inordinately vacant streets until she heard someone calling her name. It wasn't someone nearby, however, but rather a distant voice that only her more heightened hearing could pick up. It was Mahi's voice.

"Mahi?" Erin asked, much to Alex's confusion, and Erin cupped her hands over her mouth as she shouted. "Mahi! I'm over here!"

"I got you!" He replied, Erin discerning his location just from his voice, "I'm coming!" This conversation was entirely lost on Alex, whose perspective of it was that Erin had just shouted for no reason.

"Are you okay?" The detective asked, his eyes nervously glancing at the few passersby who witnessed the scene.

"Yeah," Erin felt relief, and something else, at the sound of her friend's voice. "It's Mahi, he's on his way. We can hear each other."

"Oh," Alex uttered, before finally understanding, "oh, I get it now. Damn, that's convenient."

"Mercer probably sent them when he lost contact," Erin glanced at the bag held at her side. A few minutes later Erin saw someone dart into the street a few blocks down. Yet even at this distance she could see he was tall, had dark blonde hair, and even made out the freckles that dotted his tanned complexion, and the smile that came when he noticed her. Mahi sprinted towards her down the street, and Erin couldn't help but run towards him as they threw their arms around each other.

"Are you alright?" He asked, "I saw the fight on the news."

"I..." Erin wasn't sure what to say. She had come back from the brink, but she didn't feel right talking about it, so she diverted down to the helmet she still carried in the grocery bag. "I hope Mercer won't be mad at me."

"Nah," Mahi smiled, "he just wants you to come home, we all do." Mahi's gaze shifted outwards, "Luke is looking for you, too. We'll meet him back at the apartment."

"I guess so," Erin sighed, knowing that Luke lacked his enhanced hearing. "Unless Mercer gave him an earpiece it's not like he could hear us if we called?"

"Why not?" Mahi asked.

"You know, because of his 'condition,'" Erin felt bad regarding it as such, given how much she wished they could trade places.

"Oh," Mahi nodded, "duh. Man, with everything that's happening I sometimes forget the most basic things."

"Tell me about it," Erin said. They were soon joined by Alex, the older detective somewhat winded from having to jog over.

"Hey," he wheezed, holding up a finger to the young mer, "Ahi, right?"

"Mahi," he replied, "Ahi is the tuna, bro. I'm named after the dolphinfish."

"My mistake," Alex chuckled. Mahi's attention diverted to the bag Erin held.

"How bad is it damaged?" He asked Erin, and she held the helmet up, though kept it concealed in the bag.

"I don't know," she replied, "I took it off before I changed back, and it's all cracked. I'm not sure how to make it go back into the Assembler."

"Will you be able to transform without it?" Mahi asked.

"I don't know," Erin felt her heart clench at the mere thought. "I don't even know if I'll ever want to transform again. I just... I don't think I can do it. Mahi, I killed someone. The fake I was fighting was like the commissioner, it was just a regular person, a victim, and I..." Erin could feel the pain coming back. "I'm getting worse. First I witness death, then I unknowingly killed someone, and now I knowingly-"

"It's okay," Mahi said as he wrapped his arms around her, "it's over now."

"I think it'd be best if you get her home," Alex said, "they're expanding the search, cops will be everywhere soon, and that's not all..." He looked over his shoulder, his tone dropping low, "the task force is being mobilized."

"I see," Mahi said, "then we'd better head home." He looked down at Erin as she hesitantly pulled away, nodding in agreement, then back at Alex. "If it's not too much to ask, could you lead the way? Just in case we come across any police."

"Sure," Alex said, and immediately took point. He started walking while Mahi and Erin kept at a distance. Erin could hear police sirens, some ways away, but it wouldn't be long until law enforcement was scouring the city streets. And the task force, the golem soldiers, wouldn't be far behind.

"I was hoping it would take longer," Erin uttered, "before they'd rebuild their army."

"It was always a temporary setback," Mahi sighed, "Celestial has too many resources to be stopped so easily."

"You make it seem hopeless," Erin looked up at him.

"I didn't mean it that way," he replied, "but it's the truth. They're a lot bigger than us, y'know?"

"But we have to fight," Erin said. "If we don't, nobody will."

"You don't sound so sure," Mahi seemed to pick up on her tone.

"I'm not," she wiped her eyes. They felt raw, prickling against the cold air. "To be honest it does seem hopeless. All of it. It feels like I shouldn't even..."

"We can talk about it back home," he smiled softly. "I wasn't trying to bum you out anymore than you're already feeling, just kind of musing. It's just a fact that the three of us can't fight them all."

"Two of us, now," Erin said, not knowing if Luke could be counted in his current state. "Maybe even less if I can't keep going, or if Luke stays sidelined."

"Luke doesn't want to fight?" Mahi asked.

"I don't know," Erin sighed, "but until we solve his 'being human' situation it doesn't matter if he wants to."

"He's human?" Mahi seemed quizzical, "what does that mean?"

"Are you making a joke?" Erin looked at him, "what, did you just forget? The whole reason I'm fighting is because he can't, what the hell is wrong-" Erin was cut off by a sudden sound. A sound she didn't expect to hear. It was distant, but she picked it up, the voice of someone she was acutely tuned to. She heard the voice calling as it grew closer, calling her name, searching for her, until she looked down the street to the intersection two blocks away as a man rounded the corner into view. He was tall, tousled blonde hair parting to reveal a tanned complexion and freckled face that seemed to search, until he locked eyes on Erin. It was Mahi.

Erin felt a pressure, heard a wet crunch, and indescribably pain in her chest. She glanced down to see a blood-soaked hand protruding from her torso.

Chapter 20: Diplopia

Chapter Text

Realistically, given his condition, Luke didn't need to go. He wasn't as fast as Mahi, not anymore, and he didn't have the mer's sense of hearing. It only made sense for them to split up. Luke would only slow him down. Yet staying at the apartment didn't seem right, either. They knew Erin's last known position, and while Mahi ran ahead, Luke had slowed to a walk. Not because it wasn't urgent, not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't run anymore. The city was big. He ran out of breath after a few blocks, his body tired and sore. It was unusual for him. Exhaustion wasn't the same as it was, it came quicker, was more debilitating. Luke had the will to press on when his body was immortal, even after fighting and taking serious damage, but humans apparently had far stricter limits. Fatigue was no longer a suggestion, but an unbreakable rule. Adrenaline died down, the panic left, and Luke was reduced to a brisk pace at best. It felt strange. Everything about being human was slow, unsure, and tepid.

"One side," a voice from behind Luke shouted, and he hastily stepped out of the way as a man on a bicycle passed him. He hadn't even heard the crunch of the tires through the snow, or the breath of the man pedaling. So much was unknown to him. People around him were mysteries. Things Luke always took for granted, like a person's heart rate, their breathing, their stride. Things that gave away their true emotions. It was like watching the world on VHS with the sound muted. All he had to go off of was what he could see now, and that was remarkably little.

Luke felt a strange sensation in his stomach. He was hungry, again, even though he'd already eaten. As much as he enjoyed the new experience with food, he was growing tired of the constant, recurring need to eat. What used to be something he could stretch out for days was now hours at best, and like many things, he couldn't deny his body what it needed. Sleeping every day, eating constantly, even using the bathroom as he quickly discovered. So much of human life was occupied by things they had no real control over. So much was unknown, dangerous, a constant balance for survival and happiness. Living life was not nearly as simple as it seemed, though one thing was clear: Luke could ignore his hunger no longer. That's when it occurred to him that he was downtown, and while his sense of smell was less than a fraction of what it once was, there was an alluring aroma in the cool air. Luke spotted signage a few blocks down across the street. A Chinese place, one where the storefront was where you placed your order and ate, if you so chose. Luke crossed over, only to nearly be hit by a taxi cab, which earned him a horn honk and a finger flip before he jogged out of the road and up to the establishment.

Steam emanated from the hot kitchen behind the counter, staffed by two individuals, and while the stools out front were vacant, one customer stood out front. After a few moments the woman behind the counter handed him a plastic bag, and he left with his food. Luke approached, taking a seat as he picked up one of the menus. He'd never had Chinese food before. The menu was complex, and he wasn't familiar with all the names, and thus was forced to rely on the pictures and listed ingredients.

"You ready to order?" The woman asked.

"Yeah," Luke sighed. He only needed a quick bite, "I'll have a beef chow mein." The woman nodded as he placed the menu back where it belonged, then felt his pocket. He didn't have a lot of cash on him, though it'd pay for his meal, money was another human problem that was new to him. Even when he started working with Mercer, the doctor's prudent financial decisions covered him, and before that Luke hardly had use for money, and when he did he often just took it from his victims.

His victims. That's what they were.

Luke diverted his gaze towards the embellishments of the restaurant face. It had many knick-knacks, hanging baubles with Chinese writing on them, and a small gold statue of a cat. It held its right paw upwards, like it was waving, and Luke could see it was articulated. He poked the outstretched limb and it swayed back and forth in a rhythmic fashion.

"You like Maneki Neko?" The woman asked, pointing to the cat.

"It has a name?" Luke looked at the chubby likeness of a feline.

"It's an old Japanese good-luck charm," she explained. Her accent was thick, but her English was fluent. "Popular in many Asian cultures, though. The right hand up means good fortune."

"Good fortune," Luke nodded. He was surprised he'd never heard of such a thing, but it seemed about as reasonable as many human superstitions. Before long a steaming bowl of beef and vegetables was placed in front of him, and Luke rooted around his pocket for the appropriate payment. He reflexively reached his hand towards the bowl, only to realize the piping hot food would burn him, not to mention he was in public. Next to the bowl was a small cup of wrapped paper. Chopsticks. Luke knew what they were, though not how to use them, and he moved the cup aside to see wrapped plastic spoons and forks. More his speed.

Meat by itself never had much taste. It lacked flavour if it wasn't alive, and Luke would often pile on spices to try and counteract that shortcoming, but when he bit into the succulent fried beef, it was amazing. Food, for the first time in his life, made sense. It was complex, savoury, and hit all the right notes. Even the vegetables, which he normally abhorred, had so much substance. He'd only been 'human' for a few days, but he was really starting to understand why humans had such elaborate culinary developments. To someone like him it had always seemed in such excess. Humans treated food differently. They embellished it, aggrandized it, far beyond its function as sustenance. Processed foods, pre-made meals, home-cooked, takeout, fine dining, fast food, all just to serve the same purpose. Now, however, he understood. Food was like an art form. Even in this small establishment, nestled into a wall, Luke experienced something completely new to him. He was almost saddened when it was gone.

"Thanks," he said, and left an extra five dollar bill for a tip. Luke glanced once more at the good luck charm before continuing on his way. He was, obviously, not one to judge a superstition. He was as much a fairytale as any fortune-heralding feline. He'd heard all manner of folklore over the centuries, watched the zeitgeist of culture eb and flow. Man had landed on the moon, yet still threw salt over their shoulder when it spilled. Children balked at the notion of Santa Claus, yet still feared monsters in their closets. Luke himself had run afoul of the most dichotomous among them. Men and women, staunchly rational, yet begging for divine intervention in their last moments. Humans loved to pretend to be something they weren't, encased in a facade that they thought protected them, only for that imaginary barrier to dissolve as soon as it met an immovable force. It was something he thought about more and more, a question repeated in his mind again and again, only to grow annoyed when he received no answer, but that was all over-written when he heard the sounds of screaming.

Luke broke into a run. He didn't need to have sensitive hearing to follow these cries of fear. It was blocks away at most, and Luke kept on the main streets, scanning for the source, and it was only a few blocks over when he burst into the streets and saw it.

At first Luke assumed he was seeing things. What slithered in the middle of the street defied comprehension. It was Mahi, in his serpentine merman form, fighting what looked like Mahi, only in his blonde haired human form. Something wasn't right, and Luke continued to sprint towards them only for something else to come into view as he got closer. Knelt on the ground was Alex, the detective, and cradled in his arms was Erin, her entire torso covered in blood. Luke watched the two Mahis battling and, realizing he couldn't possibly intervene, turned instead to Erin. He all but skidded to one knee as he stopped next to Alex, and the officer's face said it all. He clutched Erin, his eyes squeezed shut as Luke looked at her body, a massive hole in her chest.

"What happened?" Luke asked.

"She's gone," Alex nearly wept, "he... that thing did this!"

"Give her to me," Luke said, not especially softly. Alex looked at Luke with confusion, perhaps at the latter's lack of apparent concern, and so Luke took it upon himself to pick Erin from his arms. He laid her down in the snow. The wound in her chest was grievous, nearly five inches in diameter, as if a baseball bat had impaled her. Erin's mouth hung open, her eyes glazed over and halfway shut, and Luke began to feel around her jacket.

"What the hell are you doing?" Alex asked, watching Luke search her coat.

"Where is it?" Luke asked, "the Assembler?" Alex didn't answer, but he did turn his attention to the fight. Mahi, the human-form one, held the device in his hand as he traded blows. Merman Mahi lashed out, furiously striking at his doppelganger, frenzied growls accompanying every exertion. He tried to wrestle his opposite number, but even as a human this other Mahi was stronger. Stronger than he ought to be. Luke was starting to understand this must be some kind of fake. He looked back at Alex, "give me your gun."

"I tried," Alex said, revealing the service revolver still held in his right hand, "he tanked four shots like they were nothing."

"You didn't know where to shoot," Luke said. Alex reluctantly handed over his weapon, which Luke stood and took aim with. His strength, reflexes, and ultra-fine senses were gone, but that wouldn't matter. He had been using guns in some form or another since the invention of gunpowder, and while he would likely be unused to the recoil, that wouldn't matter for the first shot. Luke held the weighty pistol with both hands, lining up the iron sights, and tracked his target as it moved. He knew what he was aiming for, saw it in the fake's hands, and when he was confident in his shot, squeezed the trigger.

A bullet struck the Assembler in the fake's grasp, knocking the device from his hand as the Mahi duplicate reacted in shock, only to be whipped by the authentic article's tail in his moment of surprise, sending the imposter flying into a parked car. The real Mahi changed back to his human form, grabbing the Assembler off the ground as he rushed to Erin's side. Luke took the device, placed it on her arm, and waited for the band to affix itself. When Luke sustained heavy damage, the Assembler could "jump-start" his healing, but despite pressing it to her bicep the device would not activate. The Assembler was keyed to her and Luke's bio-metrics, and the only reason it wouldn't turn on is if it couldn't sense her body's functions. Mahi looked at her with trembling hands, which balled into fists as he began to realize that he was looking at her corpse.

"She's not dead," Luke assured as he placed a hand on the young mer's shoulder, much to Alex's bewilderment, "but she is dying. We have to get her back to the apartment."

"How?" Alex asked, most likely about the fact that she was alive, but Luke misinterpreted it as a question on how they'd get home.

"I'll keep it busy," Luke said, looking at Mahi, "you run her back. As fast as you can."

"'Keep me busy?'" Mahi's voice came from behind them as the fake stood up from the dented vehicle. "That's a haughty boast my dude, considering you're human now." Luke tensed. He shouldn't be surprised that CB knew, but it did complicate things. He was hoping to stall the fake with threats, but now the situation changed. The false Mahi stepped towards them even as sirens blared, and police squad cars and an ambulance rounded the corner. Officers poured out, approaching the situation, and Alex was about to pull out his badge when an all-too familiar voice came from behind them.

"Detective Alex Parker," it shouted, and as Alex turned he saw that the fake Mahi was gone, replaced with an exact duplicate of himself. It even held a badge in its hand. 'Alex' gave them a glance, accompanied by a sinister grin, before he looked back at the officers. "Detain these suspects, but be careful, they're highly dangerous." The officers, taking the imposter at his word, quickly place their hands on their holsters, only for the real Alex to reveal his authentic badge.

"Don't!" Alex pleaded, the officers drawing their weapons as he held his badge up. Confusion came across their faces as they got a good look at the real Detective Parker, and he pointed towards the fake, only to find his double had vanished completely.

A wet crunch was heard as the lead officer buckled, a hand pressing into his chest. 'Alex' plunged his flattened fingers through the cop's jacket, blood spurting from the wound. He had moved so fast no one had noticed, and the first officer hadn't even collapsed before the doppelganger moved to the next, striking him so hard he went flying over the ambulance. The fake laughed with glee as it dispatched the officers, even as they opened fire, but it was too fast. Too fast for them, at least.

"You two," Mahi turned to Alex and Luke, "get her out of here."

"No," Luke said, "you're faster than us-"

"Take one of the cop cars," he explained.

"Mahi, Erin comes first-" Luke began, only for Mahi to snap at him.

"I'm not going to let those cops die!" He shouted. It was obvious that the point wasn't up for discussion as Mahi turned away, shifting forms to his legged state, and sprinted towards the fake. He leapt, outstretching his foot as he struck the fake Alex with a powerful kick that sent his target colliding with the snowy pavement. The fake recovered quickly, however, changing forms once again. Only this was not a human being, but instead a match for Mahi's own intermediate form. This only momentarily stunned the mer before he sprinted once more, tackling his duplicate and grabbing his head, plunging it into the concrete.

"You're gonna pay for this," Mahi growled as he pushed the fake's skull deeper into the ground, "I'm gonna make sure you regret hurting her."

"Chill... out... bro," the fake uttered as its head was squeezed, yet its tone didn't seem concerned, "this ain't like... you."

"You don't know me," Mahi grabbed the fake by its head fins, pulling its head back as he glowered at it face to face, "you don't know anything about me!"

"Not true," it replied, only to buck Mahi off by whipping its tail. "I know a lot about you, all of you. We've been watching you for some time now." Mahi fell next to the ambulance as his duplicate slithered over in the full mer form. It didn't seem to have any trouble maintaining it, ""I know you're the laid-back one. Relaxed, unbothered, except for now." The fake rocked its head as if working out a kink in its neck, "seems you get a little hot-blooded when the woman is involved. And they say chivalry is dead."

"You're about to join it," Mahi uttered before extending his hand. His arm erupted in a water jet that shot like a laser towards the fake, but the false Mahi dodged quickly, and Mahi's stream instead took a chunk out of the ambulance. He turned to fire again, but couldn't see his target.

"Freeze!" Someone shouted, and Mahi turned to see the remaining officers pointing guns at him, "let me see your hands!"

"You're making a mistake," Mahi said calmly as he complied, "the real bad guy's getting away."

"You let us worry about that," one officer said as he approached to apprehend him. Mahi didn't want to hurt the cops, but he couldn't be arrested, and was about to give the officer the slip when he felt a stabbing pain in his side. He looked down to see the police officer's hand jabbed just below Mahi's ribs, a sinister smirk on his face.

"I know you very well," he whispered, only for shots to ring out as the officers opened fire, but he was too fast. The fake leapt away, Mahi impaled on his hand, away from the cops and onto the roof of a nearby building. His strength and speed was immense, more than Mahi's, and the mer could do nothing to resist as he felt the fake's hand grip his ribcage from within. The pain was intense, debilitating, and Mahi struggled to concentrate enough to change forms. The fake carried him across the rooftops, leaping and climbing higher and higher, the wind billowing as they reached the top of a highrise.

"You know, I wasn't technically supposed to kill you," the fake mused as it hoisted Mahi up by his bleeding wound, "but Miss Wintergreen only really specified Luke's survival. Everyone else was merely to be 'removed.' That said, I've already killed the woman who gave Alabaster trouble, and now..." it turned Mahi to face itself, "I'm really liking the idea of adding another notch on my proverbial belt."

"Sorry, bro," Mahi struggled to speak, the wind and snow growing more intense as they stood so high up, "but I'll have to disappoint you." The wind was billowing as a blizzard began to form, exactly as Mahi had hoped. This high up the wind was far more intense than at street level, and his body began to shimmer and turn translucent, before dissolving into frozen droplets that rode the strong current like every other snowflake, and Mahi was carried up and away from the fake on the heavy winds.

Chapter 21: The Flesh

Chapter Text

Mercer jumped as the front door of the apartment burst open, Colonel barking at the commotion. Alex carried Erin in his arms, the latter wrapped in his jacket, with Luke slamming the door behind him. They rushed her to the living room, Luke kicking the coffee table away as Alex laid her on the ground. Mercer approached, first aid kit in hand, but as Alex opened the coat he'd wrapped her in, the doctor dropped the kit as he froze at the sight of her chest wound.

"God, no," Mercer uttered, fearing the worst, "what happened?"

"That guy," Alex heaved, winded from carrying her and clearly distraught, "he... punched right through her, with his bare hand..."

"A fake," Luke explained, "one that can shapeshift. Made itself look like Mahi in order to ambush her."

"Mahi?" Mercer looked around, noticing his absence, "is he...?"

"He stayed to hold it off," Luke said, looking up at the doctor, "we need to focus on Erin. She's dying, but can still be healed."

"Of course," Mercer suddenly composed himself, his medical training overwriting his personal attachment, "did you try using the Assembler?"

"I did," Luke removed the device from his jacket, "it didn't attach. I thought if it could heal my injuries-" Mercer took the Assembler from Luke, pressing it against Erin's arm. It didn't activate, and he quickly tore the sleeve of her shirt off, pressing it against her bare skin, but still it didn't respond.

"This is bad," Mercer uttered, looking at Erin. By all accounts she was dead. Her skin had lost luster, her eyes glazed over, and the hole in her chest no longer bled. As he examined the grizzly wound he could see the shattered ribs, torn lungs, and even the wall of her heart. Colonel laid down next to her legs, letting out a high pitched whine as he licked her fingers, no doubt trying to get a reaction. None came, however, and Erin remained completely still.

"She's not dead," Luke insisted, looking Mercer in the eyes, "not yet."

"We have but one option, then," the doctor's tone dropped. He held Luke's gaze, as if waiting for him to object, but Luke's expression didn't change. Alex, watching the two, seemed lost.

"What are you waiting for?" He asked, "if you can save her then do it!" Mercer stood up, rushing towards the kitchen as fast as his limp would carry him, and rooted around one of the drawers. He returned with something in his hand. It looked like a plastic tube, but upon closer inspection, Alex could see it was some kind of syringe. Mercer took the Assembler, removing the metal-sleeved, conjoined vials and began dismantling them.

"Lucas, if this works..." Mercer began as he likewise disassembled the syringe, "if she... without Mahi here, we won't-"

"She won't," Luke said sternly, and Alex was even more confused.

"What are you not telling me?" He asked, "What's the risk, here?"

"Erin is a wolfman," Mercer explained as he placed the Lycan Shot's vial into the syringe's housing, "like Lucas she has enhanced healing, however unlike Lucas that healing is less effective in her human form, especially after her battle."

"But she will heal," Alex said, not so much questioning as insisting. "Why hasn't she?"

"Because the damage is too extensive," Mercer re-assembled the syringe as fast as he could, "and Erin has been neglecting her body of the necessary energy. She is still loath to eat meat, let alone living tissue, and as a result her body is weakening."

"Transforming undoes that," Luke added, "the chemicals in the Assembler force her body to change, kickstarting her metabolism, and starts to heal."

"Then what's the risk?" Alex asked, and Mercer hesitated just as he held the syringe to Erin's arm.

"Without the Assembler to control the change," the doctor explained, "there's every possibility that Erin will transform into a wolfman again, and if she does..."

"She'll be out of control," Luke finished as he looked at Alex, "and she'll kill everyone in this room." Alex's expression said it all. His mouth hung open as emotions flashed across his face, trying to process it all. Luke continued, "there's also the hope that her injuries are bad enough that the catalyst will burn out just from healing them."

"Hope?" Alex asked incredulously, "that's a lot to hope for."

"It's either that or let her die," Luke said bluntly. Alex and Mercer exchanged glances, all while Luke grew visibly frustrated, "we're running out of time."

"Let the fates fall," Mercer exhaled, "where they may." He injected Erin in the arm with the catalyst, and the syringe emptied its contents into her bloodstream. Almost immediately the effects were known, as a dead body wouldn't circulate the chemicals as was obvious by the black veins appearing on Erin's skin. Then the next sign presented itself as the wound in her chest started to spurt blood, and the flesh began to undulate. Mercer and Alex watched as the ripped tissue started to tense, pulling itself back into shape as if watching it tear in reverse. The bones that were shattered began to reform as the broken pieces were pushed up and out of the way. Her lungs began to inflate as air was pulled in through her grey lips, and her heart began to twitch, swell, and beat again as the wound slowly but surely closed, filled with uneven skin like a massive scar. It was nearly done by the time Erin's eyes began to move, the shine and colour of her pupils returning as her skin started to turn pink again, and she began weakly gasping for breath before her mouth started to move.

"Erin?" Alex asked as he watched the life return to his friend, but something was amiss. Erin looked around, but her eyes did not focus on any one of them. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks as an unnatural reflection hit her iris, and Erin lurched. She jolted up, towards Alex, only for Luke to dive in front of him. Erin tackled him to the floor as she clawed at him, slamming his head against the hardwood as she snarled. Mercer instinctively backed away, Colonel barking at her, while Erin seemingly tried to kill Luke.

"Erin!" Alex shouted, trying to grab her, but with one swing of her arm Alex was sent flying back towards the living room. Mercer stepped away, but Erin soon noticed him, and locked on to the doctor the way a predator fixates on prey. She moved to pounce on him, only for Luke to grab her and tackle her to the ground. Her strength was leagues beyond his, however, but he didn't try to restrain her. Instead Luke tried to keep himself in her sights, her attention only on him, and it worked as she pinned him to the floor.

"Erin-" Luke struggled to speak as all his strength went into keeping her at bay, "you have to control it! Look at me!" Erin didn't answer, instead she snarled, her eyes fully aglow as Luke knew she wasn't looking at the world as it was. Instead she looked at the world as he would, as a werewolf would, no colour or detail or rigid form, but a world of intensity and light that told only a single truth. Luke didn't want to, but he was forced to elbow Erin in the face. It did no damage, merely stunning her for an instant, but an instant was all Luke needed to roll up his sleeve, and when Erin lashed back at him, he held his arm to her face. Erin's teeth sunk into his arm, a sensation he knew with a pain he did not, and Luke winced as she bit hard enough for blood to seep out, and only then did her fervor mellow.

"You remember this?" Luke asked, whispering so softly that only she would hear, "this taste? You want it so badly, but it makes you sick. It makes you sick because you enjoy it." Erin's expression began to twist, from anger to a horrible realization. "This taste that shames you, makes you lose sleep? Savour it. Savour it and remember what you chose." Erin's jaw relaxed, and she let go of Luke's arm. Her teeth left marks, nearly biting a chunk off, and Luke's mangled flesh started to turn purple. Erin's eyes lost their glow, her sense taking back control, and she fell to her knees as Luke still laid on his back, doing all he could not to seethe with the pain.

"I..." Erin uttered, wiping Luke's blood from her mouth. She spat, forcing every last iota from her lips, and clutched her chest where the hole used to be. "I'm so sorry, I just-!"

"Don't be," Luke said plainly as he elevated his bleeding arm, "you just did in minutes what took me over a thousand years." Erin hung her head, her senses returning as she took in what had all happened, then suddenly remembered.

"Mahi!" She exclaimed, and tried to stand, only to feel dizzy immediately.

"You were attacked by a shapeshifter," Luke said calmly as she stood, helping her up with his good arm. "The real Mahi held him off while we escaped."

"You mean he's alone?" She asked.

"He insisted," Alex added as he stood up from the living room, having been knocked over and behind the couch. "All he cared about was you."

"I..." Erin felt light-headed again, and could barely stand.

"You need to eat," Luke said, "and you need to eat meat. Raw meat."

"I can't," Erin uttered, "Luke I... I killed someone. A civilian. They were like the Commissioner, a victim, and I-"

"You did what you had to," Alex added, walking up to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "It wasn't your fault."

"You have to eat, Erin," Luke reiterated. "Whatever energy your body didn't use up healing itself you sure as hell burned just now. If you don't eat you'll starve."

"Fine," Erin sighed, too weak to argue. "I'll crack a few eggs and-"

"You're not listening to me," Luke took a step towards her, so suddenly and sternly that even Alex tensed up, "you need meat. The fresher the better. Eggs and milk aren't going to cut it anymore." Luke's eyes cut into Erin, his face so terse that it seemed frozen solid, no movement or minor twitching, and even his eyes were locked onto her own. Erin wanted to argue, wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she knew he was right. She couldn't help but look at his arm, her own teeth marks within the swollen, discoloured flesh. It sickened her.

"Alright," she uttered, finally accepting it. "Alright." Erin made her way slowly to the kitchen, towards Luke's fridge, the one so full of meat. She lingered at the door, still resisting despite the obvious necessity of it, and felt a tugging at her pant leg as she looked down to see Colonel licking her. Erin swallowed her pride and opened the door. There was no shortage of options now that Luke's own diet had shifted, but Erin focussed on the beef. A large steak in particular caught her eye. She legitimized it with the knowledge that rare steaks were a common preference, and took the cold packaged meat from the refrigerator and placed it on the countertop of the island. Erin grabbed a knife and a fork, puncturing the cellophane and getting the first whiff of the meat. She hesitated no longer, and with a quick motion carved a portion of the meat with the knife and took a bite. The texture and taste were off-putting, but only for a moment, and soon satisfaction came. Her hunger couldn't be held back any longer, and she devoured the uncooked steak as if it were the first thing she'd eaten in years. Almost immediately Erin felt her chest tighten and warm, and looked down at where the wound was. The visible remnants of the injury seemed to smooth over right before her eyes, and Erin quickly made her way to her bathroom. She removed the torn and bloodied shirt to see her chest was completely healed, as if nothing had ever happened, and her skin was a healthy tone once more. She felt energized, refreshed. It was a miracle. A miracle with a heavy toll.

"You're going to need more," a voice came from behind her, and Erin quickly held the torn shirt to her chest as she looked to see Luke in the doorway. His arm was bandaged.

"Don't come in," she said tepidly.

"You know I don't care about that," he said, and although Erin knew he was telling the truth, it was a matter of simple decency. She was about to abscond him for his lack of tact when she saw Luke's face. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" She asked, "I chose this, remember?"

"Yeah, but I forced you to choose," he said. Luke's expression grew pained as he suddenly didn't seem able to look her in the eye, "I'm not used to it."

"To what?" Erin asked, but Luke didn't answer. He didn't have to, really. She understood.

"You're going to have to eat more," he said after a moment, "meat that is. Your body's at its limit." He motioned towards her and Erin looked at herself in the mirror. Her arms were thin, her collar bone was visible, as were the tendons on her neck. It seemed she could only stave off starvation for so long, and no matter how many workarounds she tried, her body wasn't getting what it really needed. Yet right now, despite it all, Erin could only really feel one thing.

"If that's how it has to be," she said. Luke seemed a bit surprised, and Erin turned to him. "I need to be strong. Stronger than I was today. I can't undo what I did, but I can make sure it never happens again." Erin felt strange, and she looked at herself once more in the mirror. Thinned and ragged as she may be, the pain of the injury and the agony of killing still fresh in her mind, Erin never felt more willing. "No more holding back."

"No more holding back," Luke repeated with a nod. Erin smiled at him. For the first time she felt as though the two of them were well and truly on the same level.

"That said," Erin began, "I would really like to change into some clean clothes right now." Luke nodded. He left her bedroom and Erin closed the door behind him, musing over whether or not she should invest in a lock. Erin changed the rest of her clothes, throwing her previous ripped and blood-stained outfit in the trash before returning to the apartment's main space. Mercer and Alex sat in the chair and sofa respectively, while Luke had already taken a stool at the bar with a drink in his hand. Erin entered the kitchen, looking longingly at the fridge once more.

"How do you feel?" Alex asked, and Erin shrugged.

"Better," she said, "honestly I'm going to start a tab for CB for all the clothes of mine they've ruined." She glanced at Alex who ran one hand along his thinning scalp, his bloodied jacket waded up in the other, "what about you?"

"It's a lot," Alex admitted. "I really thought you were dead, and then seeing you just... miraculously heal like that. It's like a miracle from God. I can't wrap my head around it."

"You're not supposed to," Luke said as he sipped from his glass of what smelled like whiskey. "Just be glad it happened."

"I wish we had the time to recoup," Mercer said, "but I'm afraid the situation is growing dire."

"Right," Alex nodded, picking up his radio that sat on the coffee table, "I got an update. Three cops dead, perp and Mahi both disappeared. The force is scouring for them both, and-" Alex took a deep breath, "they're mobilizing the task force."

"Wintergreen's plans proceed unimpeded," Mercer rested his hands on his knees.

"They're looking for me, too," Alex sighed, "one of them got my badge, and they know that thing turned into me, but there's a lot of chaos and distrust."

"CB's specialty," Luke added.

"This is bad," Mercer uttered, "I fear for Mahi's safety."

"Don't," Erin said, "he's already here." Alex and Mercer turned as they heard the front door open, and a moment later Mahi stepped inside. He clutched his side, bloodied and pale, but standing. He looked exhausted, battered, but when he laid eyes on Erin his features immediately brightened.

"You're alive," he uttered, smiling with relief. Erin smiled back, and she was about to approach him when Alex leapt to his feet.

"Wait!" He held up a hand, "what if this is the guy? He's a shapeshifter, remember? He could easily fake an injury."

"What?" Mahi asked, "no, I'm me, I swear!"

"Erin!" Mercer likewise was suspicious as she approached Mahi. He stood there with his hands at his side, and Erin stepped close enough to look him in the eyes. Without a word she reached for his hands and held them, closing her eyes as Mahi stood still.

"He's real," she said with a smile.

"How do you know?" Alex asked.

"Because his heart rate just picked up," Erin explained as she opened her eyes to look at him, "and he's blushing." Mahi bashfully smiled back as Erin held his hands, gently gripping them back.

"I was really worried," Mahi uttered, his eyes closing halfway, "I'm so... glad you're okay..." Mahi stumbled as Erin caught him, his injury getting the better of him. Alex rushed to help as they walked Mahi towards the couch.

"How bad is it?" Mercer asked, but when Erin lifted up his shirt she found his wound was already patched with the clear gel-like membrane.

"I'm okay," Mahi said as he regained his composure, "I'm just tired. I did a lot of changing, a lot of new techniques, and to be honest I think I wore myself out."

"What kind of techniques?" Mercer asked, but Mahi's eyes fluttered more.

"Don't worry about it," Erin said as she placed a pillow behind his head. She knelt next to him, holding his hand, "just rest, okay?"

"Rest," Mahi repeated, "sounds rad." Erin let him lay there as she stood up, rubbing her forehead. Somehow seeing Mahi like this hurt more than her own frailty. Something had to change. They weren't winning by being reactionary.

There was a loud tap as Luke placed his glass down on the countertop before swivelling in his stool. He looked at the others. They were all tired, unsure, barely holding together. Erin and Luke locked eyes, as if both knew they thought the same thing, and Luke stood up from his seat.

"Doc can make me transform again," Luke said, "without the Assembler."

"What?" Erin asked, "how? I thought if you did that you'd, y'know, not be in control?"

"I won't be in my true form," Luke explained. "Install the parts directly into my body, letting me change without the Assembler, using my own Moonstone to get it done. No more shots, no more external device, but the same result."

"'Moonstone?'" Alex asked.

"The part of a werewolf's anatomy that governs their change," Mercer said. "Only true werewolves possess one. The sample in the Assembler is from Lucas' mother, and allows Erin to change, but if we can somehow use Lucas' own, both he and Erin could operate together."

"It'd be a hell of an advantage," Luke said.

"But a hell of a risk, right?" Erin asked, "you'd be operating on Luke's heart, wouldn't you? That's where the Moonstone is." Mercer and Luke didn't reply, but it was clear from both their expressions Erin was right. "If you do that now, while you're 'human,' that could kill you."

"Would you believe his condition actually lessens the risk?" Mercer began, "as he is now Lucas would be easier to operate on. His normal healing factor and bone density would make surgery next to impossible without using silver implements, which would almost certainly kill him if even a microscopic amount made it to his heart. Humans, however, have been performing such surgeries for almost forty years now. It is risky, of course, but if ever there were a time to do so, it'd be now."

"Problem is we don't have the parts," Luke said. "A lot of the Assembler is custom made, especially the inside bits. Even using our normal shops it'd take weeks if not longer just to get what we need."

"There's a 'but' in there, I can tell," Alex seemed to keep up, despite how overwhelming Erin realized this must be for him.

"Celestial Biotics would have the components," Mercer sighed. "They've been attempting to duplicate my device, and have made a somewhat successful version that Mercury uses. If we could steal it, or find out where it was made, it'd be easy enough to get the parts required for Lucas' augmentation."

"One way or another, we need to infiltrate CB," Luke said, rocking his head back on his hands as he stretched in exasperation, "again."

"I'll do it," Erin said, garnering apprehensive looks from the others. "I'm tired of playing defense, chipping away at them bit by bit. We need parts? We get parts." Alex looked unconvinced, while Mercer seemed to weigh the notion. Luke didn't look forward, but Erin could tell he had the slightest of grins as he seemed to already understand where she was going with this.

"Sneaking in will be difficult," Mercer pointed out. "They'll be wise to subterfuge and no doubt have higher security."

"That's just it," Erin turned to the doctor. "I won't be sneaking in. They clearly want the Assembler themselves, and I'm going to make sure it's personally delivered to Mercury."

"Just how in the hell will you do that?" Alex asked incredulously.

"Easy," Erin turned to him with a sly smile, "you're going to arrest me."