Chapter 1
Chapter 4
WARNING: This chapter does contain depiction of the aftermath of a suicide. Please be mindful of this when reading. I will note when it appears so you are aware.
The once busy lab, that bustles and brims with chatter of innovations, discoveries, and motivation, sits alone and quite with the ding of the elevator echoing through the corridors of the now abandoned lab. Each step Dylan and Stryker took reverberated off the wall giving a tiny glimpse into the life it has during the day. The hallways eerily lit only by a fraction of the lights that would be on during the day giving off putting shadows and large spots that swallowed everything like a void. As they marched towards genealogy, Dylan and Stryker could hear whispered murmurs of conversion coming from the department. As they drew closer, they could make out the voice of Abagail, one of the genealogy scientists that was very personal and didnât like to socialize, was speaking with another female voice in about something odd that was found.
The department was a departure from the rest of the shadowy void of the lab. It was well lit and the hum of computers and conversion between the two people gave the room life that was devoid in the rest of the area. Abagail sat facing a computer screen pointing at a specific data point that looked to be the main topic of the discussion. The woman next to Abagail, furrowed her brow in confusion and concern as it conveyed a cryptic message of numbers and letters. Dylan and Stryker stepped out of the darkness of the hallway and into the light room unnoticed.
Next to Abagail was, none other, than Alexie, a beautiful woman that was a little on the petit side with flowing brunette hair, and rich amber eyes, who had always caught Dylanâs fancy, but, because they worked together in IRATE, he kept thing professional even if his desires told him otherwise. The discussion trying to decipher the information that lay before them was now heard clearly by Dylan and Stryker, but they only caught the last of what Alexie said.
âBut that doesnât make any sense. Why would they do that?â
Dylan, now making his presence know, interjected with his own inquiry about the message he received, âYou wanted to discuss your finding with me, Abagail? The message you sent was very vague. Almost cryptic. Whatâs going on?â
Both looked up from the screen to see Dylan and Stryker walking up. The two, tense from the announcement of Dylan at such a late hour and the emptiness of the lab, begin to relax. Abagail turns back to the computer, âYes, I ran the genome of the hunter you brought in. Where is it,â Abagail, searching for the data in a frenzy from where they left off, found it and started from the beginning, âAh! Here it is. I wasnât expecting you to come in so late.â
âI wasnât planning on it, but you left the damn message so vague that I couldnât wait until morning to find out what it was that needed the secrecy,â Dylan showing a touch of annoyance.
âNow, now. No need to give poor Abagail a hard time, Dylan. She was looking out for you, so no unwanted eyes to see the information,â Alexie calmly explained, âThere were still a few people around that would have taken this info to the top. Luckily, I was here to prevent that since Abagail was the one that did the test all by her lonesome,â Alexie mocked pinching Abagailâs cheek, causing her to growl under her breath.
âIs that so. Well, thank you for helping assistance, Alexie, but I think Abagail could have figured that out herself,â Dylan teased getting a deflated look from Alexie, âSo, what was so important to tell me and not the rest of the department?â
Abagail pointed to the sequence of genome on the monitor, âThe genome pulled from the hunter didnât match anything on Hasbioâs database of registered genomes. Someone is producing hunters without registering them which is not only dangerous but against the law as well.â
Abagail pulled up a picture of the hunter autopsy. The hunter laid splayed out like a five-pointed star that was missing its top piece; its body cavity opened for the world to see its inner working from the cardiac system to the end of the digestive track.
âDo you see this,â Abagail pointed towards the lower part of the cavity, âIt didnât have a reproductive system which is extremely odd for someone that is trying to produce any biological product.â
âSo, they arenât using two huntersâ ânaturalâ processes? That means they are using the incubation systems to produce them,â Dylan shook his head in confusion, âThat canât be right. That is much more expensive and dangerous way to make them, not to mention the increased chances of extreme mutations that would render them unviable.â
Abagail nodded at the insight, âYes. The fact this one came in one piece, roughly, is astounding and terrifying since I didnât find any adverse effects.â
âSo based on this, they found a way to make untraceable hunters to use at their disposal. The real question here is why,â Alexie added causing the gears to turn in both Abagailâs and Dylanâs heads,â What is their end goal producing hunter?â
âI guess itâs our job to figure that one out,â Dylan looked at Alexie with determination, âbefore someone gets seriously hurt.â
âThere is one more piece of information that Abagail found out too,â Alexie slightly nudged Abagail to get her to pull up the information that they were discussing earlier, âThis will blow your mind, so you may want to sit down.â
âYes. The data did pull up something disturbing to say the least,â Abagail pulled up the file that they were ogling like boys to a nudie magazine, âThe genome showed trace amount ofâŚâŚâŚâŚâ
ââŚâŚHuman DNA,â Dylan thought to himself out loud, trying to wrap his head around the situation that had haunted him for the past week, âAbagail ran the test five times, and all came back with the same outcome: trace amounts of human DNA.â
Dylan wasnât concerned with thinking out loud since the only other occupant in the truck was Stryker, who was still reeling from that key information, as they patrolled the area looking for anything suspicious or waiting for a call from FACT that my need some specialistâs assistance. The neighborhood, that they were cruising through, was a middle-class neighborhood with one to two story houses with white picket fences and manicured lawns: the standard American Dream home.
Most of the neighbors smiled and wave as Dylan rode by, most believing Stryker as a big dog as they didnât notice his horn. Dylan didnât care much for patrol as it was dull unless someone called in, and the neighborhood that they patrol had the standard âanti-fluffyâ protection from lawn invasions: a fence that wasnât broken. Stryker was sufficiently bored know looking at all the happy faces pass by, the family fluffy playing in the front yard with either a kid or a dog, and the occasional neighborhood barbeque that brought all the happy smiles as there were no feral fluffies to ruin it for all. Stryker exhaled a long sigh of boredom.
âTell me again why we keep patrol over this place? Itâs unbearably boring,â Stryker asked releasing another heavy sigh, âThere are no feral fluffies, or hunters, here to ruin these peoples lives, so why patrol a relatively peaceful neighborhood?â
Dylan let out his own sigh of boredom, âTheir HOA pays us good money to do so, and the FRD wants to save face by send a âspecialistâ out instead of Fluffy Control that would probably mistaken a pet fluffy as feral and kill it without hesitation.â
âBut I thought they weed out most of the hardcore abusers, so why not send Fluffy Control,â Stryker now confused as to why FACT couldnât do it.
âEven if they get rid of those types before getting in, doesnât mean they canât come from within. You handle fluffies long enough with having to kill most anyway, you tend to either become numb to it, or you start to enjoy it a little too much,â Dylan shock his head at a few people that did work in FACT that he knew that lost their shit and killed a family pet by mistake that was in the herd of invading ferals and lost their jobs because of that.
Dylan, now satisfied with his patrol, looked at Stryker, âYou know what, letâs get out of here and patrol an area that does get a lot of feral invasions.â Already knowing what the answer Stryker would have given, Dylan quickly exited the gated neighborhood and headed towards the more rural part of town.
The rural part of town had more space in between the neighboring homes to not warrant being close like the inner city, neighborhoods, or gated communities. Fluffy Control didnât patrol this area because most of them could handle a standard feral invasion with ease and, often times, enjoyed it as if it were a way to blow off steam after a hard workday. The houses were varied in design just as fluffies were varied in color. The immaculate two-story home where the wealthy wanted to get away from the cityâs never ceasing noise, to the modular, or mobile, home that occupied a piece of land that was cheaper than building or renting a place out, and everything in between could be seen as the miles passed by.
After driving a while, Dylan noticed one particular house about to pass by. Colorful patches littered the front yard as if the lawn itself were growing the rainbow. Dylan also noticed that the front door was open and there was movement near it. Dylan, coming to a stop on the shoulder of the road, decided to investigate this older home to see why there were fluffies littering the unkept lawn. As he exited the vehicle, he could smell it from forty yards away. There was something seriously wrong with this place. Dylan inspected the closest body to see if he could determine what cause its death. Miraculously, the fluffy managed to get to the shoulder of the road before falling asleep at its final resting place. Dylan couldnât make a definitive guess as to the cause of death, for the body had been sufficiently damaged by scavengers to make a clear consensus, but he could hazard a guess based on some odd lumps on the hinds, shoulders, and neck of the corpse. Dylan decided to garb up before making a trip to the rundown house.
Dylan helped put a communications collar around Strykerâs neck which gave Dylan a quizzical look, âWhy are you outfitting me with this? Iâm going to come with you.â
âNo, youâre not. Something is off about this place and my gut is telling me it may be biological. I donât want you to get sick in there,â Dylan explained coolly as he fit Strykerâs ear with the headset that came with the collar.
âSo, Iâm supposed to sit here and listen to you breath as you navigate an abandon house with dead fluffies? I donât think so. They look like they were attacked by something to me. Iâm going in there with you,â Stryker protested as Dylan started to put on a filter face mask with a two-way communication device built in.
âDonât test me, Stryker. This could be serious. If this is bio, then I donât want to have to burn your body with the rest of the infected. As for the bodies up here, it looks like some scavengers started to go to town on its body like a buffet,â Dylan explained putting on protective googles that looked similar to ski googles, âCan you give me a mic check, please?â
âMic check, Stryker. One, two, three. One, two, three,â Dylan spoke through the mask.
âMic check confirmed. I hear you loud and clear. So, what is my job then,â Stryker asked with a hint of defeat that he couldnât join Dylan on his investigation into a hauntingly looking house.
âYou are going to call anything in if I canât get to you safely, or if it is a biological contaminates, youâll have to call it in to get decontamination in to hose me off and destroy the infected,â Dylan further explained as he put on a pair of latex gloves.
âAlright. Just please be careful and stay in touch with me so I can call it is as quickly as possible,â Stryker, no longer upset about not going, showing unease as Dylan fully kitted up in PPE.
âI will be, Stryker. Just make sure if I call it in as biological, and I do get in a scrape, DO NOT come rushing in because I wonât know what is in there.â Stryker nodded as he understood. With that taken care of, Dylan made his way to the house.
The porch whined under Dylanâs feet as he made his way to the door. The bodies in the yard were either too decayed to determine anything, or, just like the first, scavengers dug into them and made cause of death impossible without preforming an autopsy. The bodies nearing the door, however, were fresher with some still breathing. Dylan plucked one the body of what would have been a mere chirpy foal off its motherâs back. Dylan was about to look it over when something tapped on his boot. Looking down, the mother hadnât expired yet and was trying to get Dylanâs attention. He bent down to hear the whispered wheezing plea of the mother.
âPweezâŚwheezeâŚ.nuâŚwheezeâŚ.huwtâŚwheezeâŚ.babbehâŚ.wheezeâŚ.PweezâŚwheezeâŚ.givâŚwheezeâŚ.babbehâŚwheezeâŚ.back,â the mother pleas were left without an answer as her eyes roll into the back of her head and died.
Dylan got up and resumed looking over the foal. It was a lime green unicorn with a sprout of white as its mane and tail. Odd, fleshy lumps riddled its fragile frame. Dylan slowly confirmed his suspicions as he placed the foal on its motherâs back, to satisfy its dying wish, and passed through the doorway to the nightmarish scene that lay before him. The bodies of fluffies line the floor as a mushy, fluffy carpet that crunched and popped under each step Dylan took. In one corner of the living room, the bodies piled up towards near the ceiling. The smell had no trouble finding its way through the filters of Dylanâs mask which made him gag.
After recollecting himself, Dylan waded down the hall coming to one of two doors. He decided to investigate the one on the left as the door was already open and the bodies show either entering or leaving that door. Peering inside, Dylan saw the crusted remains of the once happy and brightly colored wallpaper, now in shambles caked with blood, vomit, and shit. The playroom did still have a select few that were still alive by eating the corpses of their dead herd mates. Their pupils were a milky white which Dylan noticed after none of them moved to his presence to beg for hugs and love. They, too, had their bodies covered in the same fleshy lumps as the ones at the door. Shaking his head at the despicable living space of the fluffies, Dylan made his way to the other door which was closed.
(Authors Note: This scene is where the description of suicide has taken place. Read at your own risk; You have been warned.)
Upon twisting the handle, he found the door lock, and, with a hard kick, Dylan caused the door to lurch forward with a loud crack as wood splintered at the handle. The room was devoid of fluffies, but death had found his way into this room too. On the queen size bed was a badly decaying body of the human occupant. Dylan, having figured out the cause of the fluffies death, entered the room to see what could find what caused this personâs death. The body had been there for a while. The boneâs definitions were accented with the shriveled skin that wrapped it like a shroud. Next to the bed on the nightstand, Dylan took notice one of many prescriptions. Taking a bottle, he ran his thumb over the dust covered label revealing the medication was an antipsychotic with big bold letters that spelled out: âDO NOT TAKE WITH ALCOHOL.â Glancing at the body, Dylan could only guess that this warning had gone ignored as he saw a dust covered, gilded flask in the skin wrapped skeletal hand.
Dylan gave pause before he radioed into Stryker, âStryker, this is Dylan, call it in. Itâs biological. Call in decom, the lab, and local law enforcement. The owner of the house is DOA.â
âGot it, Dylan. They are on the way. Did you say the owner was dead too,â Stryker giving away his concern as to Dylanâs psyche after the discovery.
Dylan, picking up on Strykerâs concern, trying to calm him down to little effect, âYes. The owner is deceased. Itâs not the first time see a dead body, Stryker. Iâll be fine. Just call it in. Iâll be on the front porch after closing up this room.â Dylan took a moment to give his peace and left; leaving the door slightly ajar since the door had been rendered useless by the forced entry.
It didnât take long for the usually quiet part of town to be bustling with every flashing light and screaming siren to disturb it. Decon units made the police and EMTs kit up in hazmat suits to protect them from whatever disease the fluffies were carrying. The body was quickly removed from the premises by the EMTs, so they could be identified and be given a proper burial, and the police took photo evidence and, with the help of Dylanâs observations, determined the death as suicide. Dylan was quickly worked over by decon and was released to go to his truck with Stryker waiting for him. Dylan entered the truck and waited for decon to finish up collecting samples, so they could torch the house with the rest of the contaminated bodies inside.
Stryker buried his head under the joint of Dylanâs arm letting him know he was there with him. Dylan scratched behind Strykerâs ear and ran his hand through his mane. The decon unit, throwing the last of the bodies that were laying outside into the house, carried a long stick that was attached by a cord to dual canisters the hung from their back. With a shout of âall clearâ the tank wielder let loose a line of flame that ignited the house in a gulf of fire. The large column of smoke raising into the sky as if the reach the heavens above. Dylan drove away to resume his patrol when the radio cracked to life and sputtered out a command to all that were listening.
âTo all IRATE agents. To all IRATE agents. There is a hunter on the loose in the abandoned industrial district. There is a hunter on the loose in the abandoned industrial district. Be advised, it was reported by a FACT team out on mission and was attack by it. The subject is hostile and extremely dangerous. The target is to take priority to any that near the area,â the voice on the radio barked out its command and resumed its slumber once more.
Dylan being the closest to the area, speed in the direction of the abandoned industrial district. It was time for another hunt, but Dylan had a sickly feeling that this was going to be more than a simple hunt.
Chapter 6