We, Cryptids Volume One

Author's note: The following is the first volume of my serializing Web Novel titled "We, Cryptids". There aren't many prominent websites to feature stories with horror elements, so I hope this can find a home here too.

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(Chapter One: Holden Cauthwell)

When you're Holden Cauthwell, you often find yourself gazing upon the world with nothing more than utter complacency. Being a young man who never knew his mother, Holden assumed that a strong relationship that he'd foster with his father would compensate for his missing maternal figure. That assumption was proven wrong when he turned ten. On that very day, Eric Cauthwell vanished without a trace. "What a shame," Holden considered. He would shrug off the condolences of those around him. Nothing of the sort would return his father, so why bother with such platitudes? What others chalked up to an unfortunate event, Holden branded a moment of rebirth. An opportunity to come into his own as a man. Now, at the age of seventeen, he felt at peace with his self-sufficiency. Having dropped out of high school several years prior, his hands were rough and worn, having been molded as if they were clay, all as a product of his extensive labor. Mowing lawns, shoveling snow, walking dogs, managing crops. All work done so that he could live in a dingy apartment that comprised little more than basic furniture and electronic appliances. Though the documentation was signed under the name of someone else of legal age, Holden was the one who ultimately paid the rent and handled the chores.

If you were to ask anybody who "knew" him, they would say he was a strange kid. One who often kept to himself as opposed to making friends or engaging in social events. It's for that reason that the term "knew him" can only ever be applied loosely. Truth be told, Holden didn't mind things being that way. As a matter of fact, that's how he preferred it. He wasn't some sort of misanthrope or anti-social character. It's just how he was. Though he would admit some fault in the "creepy" reputation he cultivated. After all, it isn't typical for any person to spend their time in graveyards or abandoned buildings, much less finding solace in those activities.

Holden couldn't ever rationalize why he felt drawn to those kinds of locations. In his mind, a sense of belonging struck him whenever he was surrounded by eerie and macabre environments. So, it was of no surprise to him when he found himself standing in front of a large, derelict building that had been cloaked by roughly a mile of woods. Whispers and rumors of such a structure had made their way to Holden's ears, and after an hour or two of exploration, he found it. The wooden exterior was, of course, chipped and rotted. The paint that once likely served the house well had long since faded into a dull, murky blue color. As Holden observed the vines and cobwebs that adorned the windows and shutters of the home before him, he shrugged in a passive manner and stepped foot onto the front steps.

His fingers clung to the doorknob for a moment longer than usual. The metal sent a cold sensation through his body, chilling him to the bone. With a slight turn, the door popped open, drifting along its set course with what could only be described as an exaggerated creak. Holden grumbled in mild annoyance as he was immediately hit with an overbearing wave of darkness, one that he figured would be mitigated by the sunlight he expected to peek through the windows. It seemed, however, that filth and grime dirtied the glass, allowing only a scant few glimmers of precious golden rays to pierce through the disgusting barrier of dust. Granted, his flashlight would ensure that this wouldn't be an issue. Holden reached into the back pocket of his black jeans and retrieved that, as well as a hair tie, manipulating it carefully with his fingers to gain some sort of control over the long, wavy hair atop his head. It was a habit he'd grown accustomed to, having learned his lesson after a few instances of spiders becoming entangled in his hair. It was a standard occurrence in these types of places, after all.

Without hesitation, he walked along the settling floorboards, turning his neck in every which way to observe his surroundings. If there ever was a home that symbolized the word "antique", it was this one. From the sofas and coffee tables blanketed in a thin sheet of dust-fuzz, to the raggedy curtains that seemed like they would crumble should they be exposed to the slightest touch. Even the chandelier that hung above his head further evidenced this fact.

With his efficient pace, it was only a matter of time before Holden stumbled upon the bathroom. The sink had long since deteriorated, having lost its faucet already. In its damaged state, it more resembled a fragmented marble podium rather than anything else. The bathtub and toilet, while not in an equal state of ruin, were non-operational. Their surfaces, much like the house windows, were smeared with less than hygienic substances that Holden himself wasn't confident he could guess the composition of. Regardless, he pulled out his camera and snapped several photos of the scene before moving on to the next room.

Next up, the bedroom. If Holden hadn't known any better, he would say that the area was ransacked by wild hyenas just moments prior to his entry. Dirty clothes and towels were strewn about the floor as if it were a murder scene. Navigating the place felt akin to waddling through a pool of thick stew. Nonetheless, he carried onward to the bed. Stripped of its blankets and sheets, all that remained was a bed frame and a mattress. Mold dotted the surface like a bubonic plague might infect the skin of an unfortunate, ill man. With another snap of his camera, the moment in time was captured. Holden quickly proceeded back to the door, much to the mercy of his lungs.

The truth that many urban explorers refuse to admit is that abandoned buildings are often quite boring. While the liminal space of these structures often spark the imagination and intrigue of the human mind, that sensation isn't a strong enough crutch to carry the weight of realizing that empty places are also often empty of things to do. It was for this reason that Holden found himself in the kitchen in no time, where black and white checkered tiles decorated the floor. Aside from that, all that stood before him was a refrigerator, an oven, and many vacant cupboards. Though, oddly enough, a small analog television sat by itself on the kitchen counter, hosting a screen of perhaps fifteen inches in length and width.

When opening the refrigerator door, he flinched backward as the rotten stench invaded his nose. Much to his surprise, the box was filled to the brim, infested with bottle upon bottle of expired milk. The fact that the bottles contained milk, however, was only understood based on the label each glass was marked with. The liquid itself, on the other hand, resembled a chunky and yellow conglomeration of ick in texture and color respectively. Taking this photo far quicker than the others, Holden shut the door with haste, rubbing his nose in discomfort.

"What kind of damn mess...." he mumbled under his breath, trying to shake off the horrid, gag-inducing "aroma". He attempted to find comfort in leaning against the counter beside him, using it for support as he relaxed.

"Least I got some interesting photos out of this one..."

He scrolled through the various images he had obtained, a slight smile creeping upon his face. A vague notion of delight stirred in his gut as he focused on the photos. Something about them made him feel at peace. In his mind, retaining them as reminders of his explorations allowed him to revisit the feeling of bliss that radiated throughout his body. No matter where he ends up, so long as he had access to his camera, he would find these pictures, and with them, find a reason to be happy.

Without meaning to, he got lost in his own world of scrolling through his camera-roll. For what felt like hours he did so, up until he stumbled upon the image of a familiar face. The image of his father. Upon doing so, there was no rush of sorrowful emotion, nor were there feelings of disdain or betrayal. He gazed upon the visage of Eric Cauthwell. He was a man that, despite his absence, Holden kept a plethora of photographs of, if only to make sure he always remembered his face. Holden often took an interest in the physical similarities he shared with his father. The long, black hair. The exhausted-looking brown eyes. The faint freckles adorning both their cheeks, provided with just enough opacity to be noticeable. He was Eric's son, alright. Despite everything, it did feel nice to be reminded of that now and then. Holden nodded to himself ever so slightly, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

"I'm not angry at you, y'know. Things are just... different now. Before you left, I saw you as my dad. My protector. My teacher. And now, I see you in an alternate light. You left me on my own, and I took care of myself on my own, like a man does. I work, I work hard. And sometimes I wonder... if the way I see the world is how you view it too. As a place where we have to count on ourselves, because we can't guarantee anyone else will."

Holden gently brushed his thumb across the camera, pausing in contemplation. That line of thinking is one he had repeated to himself hundreds, no, thousands of times. Whether it was an attempt to justify the lack of his father being in his life, or it was his genuine interpretation of events, Holden wasn't entirely sure.

"I wonder if you leaving me taught me how to understand you better than I ever could. If you stayed, would I have only ever seen you as a father? A title of respect and responsibility... but not as a man? Not as who you are, Eric. Not as you, the person. I wonder what went through your brain when you left. What the world subjected you to, that made you leave. I hope I'm right, that I'll fully understand you someday. You... and maybe even Mom."

Once more, Holden dipped back into a state of silence. A supreme quiet. One that could only be briefly maintained, before something strange interrupted it. The sound of dripping could be heard. The noise was soft, but present nonetheless. Suspecting the kitchen sink, he glanced over at it, only to realize that it was completely dry. Rather, the origin of the dripping was elsewhere. He turned his head, this time focusing his vision on the analog television that sat on the counter opposite of him. From the corners of the bottom of the screen, he saw... droplets of water, plummeting down to the floor below.

"What...," he whispered faintly.

The abrupt sound of static caused him to jump in shock as the television turned on. Holden backed away slightly as the pixels on the screen violently darted around unpredictably. Then, as suddenly as it arrived, it ceased, the static dissipating as the screen settled upon turning completely white. So too did the sound of static diminish, though it didn't transform into silence. It became something else. Waves... like that of the ocean. Holden froze in confusion and surprise, studying the scene in front of him with intrigue. Lifting his camera slowly, he aimed it at the screen, snapping a photo. As he looked upon the image, he witnessed something that made his skin run cold. Two hands, pale and withered, gripped the edge of the television.

He looked up, eyes widening as his vision fell upon the sight of a woman forcing her way out of the screen.

The snapping and bending of bone could be heard as her body adjusted to the miniature screen she was emerging from. What were once droplets of water leaking from the television became a consistent pouring of fluid gushing forth, flooding the kitchen entirely. The woman finally flung herself out of the screen, collapsing into a messy pile on the surface underneath. Her cluttered strands of hair littered her head and the floor, cloaking the blue, bloated skin underneath. As she stood, the white dress she wore was presented to be in an obvious state of disrepair. Her eyes were cloudy and muddied like a swamp, and her face itself appeared tortured and strained, making way for the muscles and veins underneath to protrude through her flesh.

"Oh hell no," Holden blurted out, not even certain of what exactly he was looking at. Without time to think, he turned and instinctively began bolting down the hallway, dashing towards the house exit. Behind him, he could hear the sound of heaving and belching, as if the woman were vomiting something from deep within her throat. Whatever it was, he didn't care. His sole focus was on escape. He was only ten feet away from the front door when he felt something slick and slimy wrap around his ankle. He collapsed to the ground, urgently scraping and clawing at the rug beneath. Despite all his strength, he was helpless to resist the pulling effect of the thing that bound his foot. He looked behind him, recognizing the sight of seaweed strands tied around him. The strand itself was long, extending all the way back to the woman's mouth.

Holden once more jammed his fingers into his pockets and felt around for the hilt of the knife he carried. Without hesitation, he began feverishly sawing at the seaweed that captured him. To his disbelief, the blade didn't even make a dent into the strand. He hacked and cleaved, desperately trying to weaken the restraints that brought him closer and closer to his demise with force equivalent to that of a tractor-trailer. He was pulled through the living room, pulled through the door, and eventually found himself back at the kitchen entrance.

"Like shit I'm gonna let this happen!" Holden exclaimed.

Realizing the futility of attacking the seaweed, he opted to stand up and rush forward to the creature himself. Much to her surprise, he jammed the knife straight into her neck, causing an eruption of water to leak from the wound. Holden proceeded to thrust downward, creating a sizable gash in her throat. Water continued to flow out of her, now with even more intensity. Even with his confusion, one thought persisted in his mind. "I won't dare go out to some crazy shit like this," he thought. "Not while I haven't had the chance... The chance to understand my mother and father. Why am I even alive if they never intended to stay with me? Why even bother… What was the point? I'm not going out, not until I have the closure of realizing why they gave me a chance at life in the first place, regardless of all that's happened since then!"

Small fish creatures occupied the water that originated from her injury, flopping around on the ground. Holden ignored this, though, as he was stunned by the fact that the woman appeared unphased by his attack. She reached up with her arm, where it was then made clear that her fingernails resembled the shape of talons. She struck at him, horizontally slashing across his chest. Stumbling backward, Holden gripped onto the cuts with one hand while using the other to grab ahold of her hair and slam her face into the counter. He began applying a relentless barrage of punches into her skull, not stopping even while the mushy sound of her brain's destruction was all that rang in his ears. As he continued, he felt himself losing focus. The once dead lights began to flicker as his blind fury prolonged, all the while Holden clenched his teeth and beat her again and again. The being once more desperately attempted to swipe at him in protest. Her arm moved quickly, far faster than he had predicted.

The light flickered off, entrenching the area in darkness. As soon as it flickered on once more, the woman's claws had already completed their slashing motion, outpacing even the sharp woosh sound that followed up the attack. Yet, without time to process what happened, Holden managed to evade the strike with a side step he didn't even remember taking. He winded his arm back, the lights fiercely strobing beyond what was thought possible. Then, in one swift motion, he drove his fist straight into her skull, shattering both it and the counter under her head. He backed up a foot or two, studying his hands in disbelief. As he calmed down and his breathing evened out, the lights finally ceased their outburst and returned to their original, powered-off form.

Holden looked behind him, stunned to see the product of the slash he had managed to avoid. Several consecutive walls had been utterly decimated, and the effects of the attack had been profoundly engraved into the ceiling and floor, all extending dozens of feet behind him. All that remained of the barriers that once stood between the kitchen and the front door were splintered fragments and dust.

"What… Did I just do," he questioned, thousands of thoughts racing through his mind. To him, the last few moments were like a dream he could only recall in bits and pieces, the events nothing more than a blur in his brain. There was little time to think of that, however, as he realized he was bleeding from the monster's first attack.

"Ain't this some shit…"

With a grimace etched into his face, he removed his shirt and tied it around his torso as a makeshift gauze. He gazed upon the creature that lay motionless, trying to make sense of what he just experienced. Though he had many questions, he calmed his nerves by convincing himself that he had survived, and that was all that mattered. However, a shadow of doubt was cast in his mind when he noticed the woman's body twitching. Preparing to stride over and stomp her head in again with nothing short of total conviction, reason finally entered his mind when he realized he should use this opportunity to escape instead.

Once again rushing to the front door, he only stopped when it opened for him and someone stepped inside.

"YO! WHERE THE HELL IS-"

The person cut themself off when they saw Holden. Stepping forward, a tall woman in baggy, black sweatpants and a white short-sleeved t-shirt presented herself. The clothes, while not form-fitting, didn't fully conceal her lean, muscular build. She looked to be somewhere in her mid-twenties, standing at about six feet, two inches tall. She wore a pair of black glasses that loosely clung to the bridge of her nose, and her medium-length brown hair settled down around her shoulders. Several silver earrings and piercings gave personality to her nose and ears, and her pleasant features were well accentuated by her soft, blue eyes.

"Huuuuuuh? Who the hell are you? You don't look like some crazy TV-inhabiting bitch." The strange woman questioned Holden, staring right into his eyes.

Holden could only stare at the woman in disbelief, not having expected anyone else to be here of all places.

"I don't got all day, kid. If you've seen some weird lookin ghost lady walkin around here throwing up water all over the place, spill. Got it? Hehe, spill. See what I did there?"

Holden nodded and pointed back towards the kitchen. Who was this woman? How could she be so nonchalant about this? She looked in the direction Holden had highlighted, raising an eyebrow in response as she observed the carnage.

"My my, I figured this place was in need of renovations, but I definitely didn't expect this piece of shit."

She paused and covered her mouth with her hand, as if she were embarrassed.

"Sorry, are you the owner? I didn't mean to barge in here and diss on your piece of shi… I mean, your house. Who am I to judge, right? Your place, your rules, yeah? Though… you really should try to get some air freshener up in here. And maybe give it a new paint job. Annnnd that couch is crooked, just so you know. Maybe even patch up those uh… those gaping holes in the wall? Just sayin, y'know? And honestly, a vase of flowers on that coffee table would add some flavor in my humble opinion."

She continued rambling about interior design suggestions, all the while Holden could only stare at her with the most ludicrous "are you for real?" face imaginable. Her attitude was almost so jarring that it temporarily made him forget about why he was trying to leave in the first place. He did, however, remember that fact eventually, and coughed into his fist to get the woman's attention. Finally, she put her rant on hold and giggled in a way that almost sounded far too giddy to belong to someone sane.

"Right, right, the crazy gal that took one too many baths, I'm on it. You said she was back there, right?"

It was not a moment later that wet footsteps approached, and the creature stood in the living room with them, her badly fractured head not seeming to hinder her movements. In response, the strange, beautiful woman smiled with sheer confidence.

"Haha, finally! Guess that's my cue. Step aside, kid. Looks like I've got some work to do."

The two women approached each other, and although every instinct in Holden's body told him to run, he couldn't bring himself to. Not when there was some strange, innocent woman putting herself in harm's way. Even if he thought she was incredibly stupid for getting herself in danger, he would feel ultimately guilty if he ran off and left her to die. He thought about asking her to run with him, but that didn't seem like an option. The toughness the strange woman exuded, as well as her clear intention to be here, made it almost certain that she wouldn't flee as soon as she arrived.

"Let me help you, this thing isn't norma-"

Holden was interrupted as the woman spoke, her smirk very telling of how she felt about the situation. Not an ounce of sweat occupied the surface of her face. Her voice, soothing and calm, carried an undertone of eagerness that Holden couldn't help but pick up on. With it came a strange feeling of comfort that put him at ease. It was a feeling that was only amplified by her next words.

"Thanks, kid, but don't even sweat it," she stated, cracking her knuckles and then her neck.

"Yeah, I've got this."

(Chapter Two: Melony Harper)

They say that in moments of great importance, time slows to a standstill. Be it when a student realizes he forgot to do his homework as he walks into class, or a child hears his mother enter the driveway without having yet done the dishes. With great consequence, comes a great, sturdy lump in one's throat that grows harder to swallow as the seconds go by. Even in the absence of a clock on the wall, one can hear the ticking in their mind as the suspense furthers, their heart dropping deeper and deeper into the pit of their stomach. To Holden, there was no more appropriate a description as the two women approached each other. The vile thing's head had seemingly reshaped, now fully healed. Did traditional damage simply not apply to it?

Beads of sweat trickled out from his pores, methodically running down his cheeks and nose. Was he nervous? Perhaps, though it would be more fitting to say he was anticipating something. The weight of the world seemed to encroach upon his shoulders while he wondered just what would be the result of this inevitably deadly encounter. Seconds felt as if they took hours to pass until a familiar voice entered his ears once more.

"Name's Melony Harper, but you can just call me the best. Thanks for askin!"

"But I didn't ask...," replied Holden, glaring at the tall woman in front of him.

"Oh, really? Well now you've gone ahead and hurt my feelings," Melony asserted, slightly sticking out her tongue in jest. That action, as simple as it was, managed to release the pressure of the atmosphere in the room.

Turning to face the creature once more, Melony lifted her feet and began walking towards it, each step taken in an exaggerated, borderline comedic fashion. Her knees lifted high enough to reach her waist as she stomped along. With her left hand in her pocket, her right arm was free to dangle in the air with the fluidity of jelly, almost like all concept of "bone" or "form" didn't apply to it. She carried an eerily wide, toothy grin on her face, examining the monster with interest as she grew closer.

"Who invited the crackhead to the party," Melony remarked with a tone that released enough sarcasm to fill the entire room. "Well, got anything to say to me? I got all dressed up and did my makeup, and you're not even gonna comment on it? I'm hurt... Hmph, well in that case, you aren't exactly eye-candy either, lady."

Melony stuck out her bottom lip in an artificial pout, crossing her arms and turning her head away with false indignance. To Holden's surprise, the grotesque being opened its mouth and began to speak.

"I...I...," it choked out, like the mere action of talking was as laborious a task as rolling a boulder up a mountain. Melony looked at the thing and nodded her head slightly as if asking it to continue.

"Yeah? Spit it out now, what is it?" Melony opened her eyes wide, pleading to the ghastly figure to go on.

"I... I... know...," the monster croaked, struggling to get the words to come across with any semblance of coherency. In an instant, Holden's eyes bulged and his lips divided in an attempt to shout to Melony. To warn her that, as she was now within a foot of the creature, the disturbing entity may attack. He was correct, as not a moment later it began flinging its arm in an overhand, downward motion, aiming its claws at Melony's temple. Holden could hardly comprehend the pace at which the events unfolded. Before the synapses within his brain could even begin to fire... before the sound generated by the violent slash even started to travel... everything had already happened. Holden could only react to the aftermath, as an explosion of force shook the house and surrounding woods, rattling his ears. Following that was complete silence... proceeded by gentle groaning and a wet, dripping noise.

Melony's one free arm extended outward, positioned next to the creature's face. However, it didn't look like any human limb Holden had ever seen. Shards of bone that numbered in the dozens layered the skin, creating a jagged surface. Within a split second, it had returned back to its normal appearance. Holden wiped his eyes and shook his head, kicking himself for being surprised. Of all the bizarre things he had seen, this was just another one of them.

Be it an arm or a weapon, whatever it was had already completed its motion. In its wake was the creature's face, or what had been left of it. Threads of flesh and meat hung down from where its jaw used to be. Where that jaw was now, however, was a complete mystery. It was as if it had been entirely dissolved by pure, unadulterated force. Water poured from the gaping hole that replaced the lower half of the woman's face. She lifted her hand towards the area, grasping at nothing, feeling around for her missing mouth. Her fingers trembled in primal fright as she looked back into the eyes of Melony, who was now beaming with delight. Melony, who was completely unharmed, leaned forward and placed her open hand against her ear, directing it towards the creature.

"Hm? What was it you were going to say? You'll have to speak louder, I'm a bit hard of hearing," she teased.

The creature's high-pitched screeches echoed throughout the area, her neck and head snapping back as her hands gripped her skull with desperation. Slowly but surely, the tissue and meat in her facial area began to repair itself, until it once more possessed a mouth and throat capable of speech. It again began to talk, stuttering and trembling with wrath and terror.

"I... I know.... I... I know... you... I know you... I know... I KNOW WHAT YOU A-A-A-A-RE.... I KNOW WHAT YOU AREEEEEE!"

The shockwaves produced by what happened next sent Holden flying backward, crashing into a wall and forcing him to take cover behind a nearby couch. Having initially stuck behind to ensure Melony's safety, he now found himself more concerned with preserving his own life. As he ducked behind the furniture, he began wondering if making a dash for the door would be worth it. However, he decided against it as he saw strange lashings and gashes appear in the walls around him. The top half of the couch he hid behind was cleaved right in two, making him crouch down even further. The message was clear. If he even tried to run, he would be fillet like a fish.

Despite not being able to process what was happening, the truth of the matter was simple. Many strands of seaweed had been extended from within the thing's throat, whipping around at blinding speeds, carving apart anything they came into contact with. Their quickness and power made the claw strikes the creature delivered earlier seem slow and impotent by comparison. For what felt like an eternity, the onslaught continued. Tables, chairs, walls, and windows, nothing was spared from complete annihilation as every object became diced and split apart. Everything except the singular couch Holden had thrown himself behind.

Then... it stopped altogether.

Holden held his breath and waited several moments before poking his head up and surveying his surroundings. Chaos and disarray filled his vision in every direction, except for what stood right before him. There, in front of the couch, stood Melony, one hand still tucked neatly in her pocket. The other arm had taken on the appearance and functionality of a sleek, steel blade that had been painted with bits and pieces of green seaweed. Melony looked back over her shoulder at Holden, smirking. Holden swore there was a sparkle in her eye as she gazed upon him and flashed an amused smile.

"C'mon... you gotta give me a ten for that one. I won't accept anything less. Did ya see how mad it got? Did you piss it off or somethin kid," she questioned with a wink.

Holden blinked, and she had vanished. At least, he thought she had. So too did the creature it seemed, who appeared completely startled as Melony disappeared from sight. The monster then noticed Holden, and snarled in disgust. It took one step towards him and then froze. The only part of it that moved now was its quivering lip, as the outline of Melony's head appeared directly behind it. She positioned her chin on top of the creature's right shoulder, looking down on it. The thing hesitantly turned its neck to meet Melony's stare with its own. Melony's eyes were... different. They had widened to their absolute limit, and the pupils had dissolved. What was left behind was only a pool of white like that of a void, and slight stretches of thin, red veins that aligned the corners and edges. The extent in which her grin was straining the skin of her face seemed unnatural, like her facial muscles would tear at their seams if pushed any further. Small giggles passed through her clenched teeth, progressively getting louder and more unhinged with every moment.

"I... I... Know... Know what are.... What you are... I KNOW... KNOW WHAT YOU ARE...," shouted the monstrous entity, its entire body now shivering uncontrollably. Melony let out a faint gasp of ecstasy before positioning her lips beside the thing's ear, whispering into it.

"Aww, so I've got fans? I'm flattered. Why don't you give me a big, warm hug..."

Holden wasn't sure what to expect, but it damn well wasn't what came to pass. Melony took a step back, finally removing her second hand from her pocket, using it to slightly lift up her shirt just enough to reveal the majority of her stomach. Holden observed as her right hand's index finger morphed into a scalpel, and was subsequently stabbed into her gut. A harsh shadow fell upon Melony's face, obscuring all her features except for her wide, sadistic eyes that burned deeply into the creature's soul. Her scalpel-like finger slid downward, dividing the skin and muscle apart and granting her entry into her insides. Blood poured from the gaping wound, as did her intestines which plopped down onto the ground like wet noodles, but Melony didn't even flinch. She gripped the folds of skin and pulled them apart, revealing the inside of her belly. Within were hundreds upon hundreds... of teeth. Gnashing, gnawing, hungry, and desperate for satiation, leaving Holden utterly speechless.

The creature couldn't even scream before an overwhelming abundance of hands emerged from Melony's stomach, dragging the monster inside. Much like a woodchipper, the shredding of flesh and bone echoed omnipresently as the teeth crunched and devoured every inch of their victim. This time, rather than water, it was pure gore and viscera sputtering out by the gallon. Crimson red puddled around Melony's feet as the job finished. Without a word, her innards slithered back into her like they were sentient snakes, and the flaps of her split-open stomach came together and closed like a zipper. She released her grip on her shirt, letting it droop down and cover her gut again. Her blue eyes returned, and she smiled sweetly in Holden's direction.

Hardly an instant later, the house began to shake and shudder as parts of the ceiling collapsed, the structure itself unable to handle the devastation that transpired. Both Holden and Melony looked around at the unstable construct surrounding them, rolling their eyes in unison.

"I... have a lot of questions. But I'm gonna go ahead and suggest we get out of here first," Holden exclaimed, motioning to the front door. Oddly enough, he decided against fearing Melony. He figured that if she wanted him dead, he would be. So, with little other choice than to accept reality as it was, he did just that.

Melony placed her left hand in her pocket once more, shrugging her shoulders in acknowledgment of the situation.

"Sounds good to me," Melony replied, jogging over and suddenly hoisting Holden up, slinging him over her shoulder like a sack. Holden, although surprised, simply exhaled in disapproval and allowed her to take him out of the house. As the building collapsed behind them, Melony slowed down to a casual walk and proceeded through the woods, still carrying Holden. She snickered to herself as if it were the most amusing thing in the world, and hummed a strange tune as the twigs and leaves crunched under her boot. Despite being drenched in the blood and fresh remains of her previous opponent, all she cared about was that her stomach had begun to rumble.

"So, ya hungry kid?"

(Chapter Three: Food For Thought)

"So, you still haven't answered my question. Ya hungry kid?" Melony sat down at the booth seat opposite of Holden, eyes drawn downward to the menu. She was having quite a difficult time deciding between the steak and cheese sandwich, and a nice crispy bucket of fish-n-chips.

"I don't have money on me..." Replied Holden, leaning back and melting into the cushion behind him. He would occasionally glance back and forth between Melony and the rustic restaurant environment. Old wooden barrels hosting pots of lush, multi-colored flowers embellished the interior, creating a cozy aesthetic that was well supplemented by the various paintings of farmland and sunsets imprinted upon the walls. Holden rubbed his fingers together, fidgeting his digits constantly. Noticing his discomfort, Melony grinned warmly in response.

"I didn't ask if you had money, kiddo... I asked if you were hungry. Really, my treat." She nodded her head as if to corroborate her statement while gently adjusting the collar of her fresh shirt. It was true that previous events had dirtied both Holden and Melony's outfits, to say the least. She always carried spare clothes with her, just in case. That much was obvious now that she donned a black tank top and brown khakis. Though she didn't have an extra pair of clothes for Holden, a quick stop at the store had remedied that issue already. Now, he sported an orange Hawaiian button-up shirt patterned with white coconut trees. His jeans, in contrast, were a rather dull and basic blue design. Needless to say, these new clothes in conjunction with a rather intense scrubbing session within the showers of a local truck stop were quite refreshing. It was the perfect place for two people with blood-stained apparel to go and wash up. The truck drivers didn't pay them much mind, considering they had almost certainly seen far stranger things.

"So, ya gonna take me up on my offer," She reaffirmed. Her finger traced along the menu from item to item, her attention now branching out to other potential meals.

"Thanks... but you don't have to do thi-," Holden began before being abruptly stopped as Melony interjected.

"Eh-eh, nope! Don't tell me what I must or mustn't do, mister brooder man!" Melony remarked, her tone light and unserious. She stuck out her palm towards Holden, and a miniature mouth grew on the surface. "Talk to the hand!" A soft giggle escaped her lips, she seemed to be enjoying herself. Holden flinched slightly before looking away and releasing an intentionally long sigh.

"Are you always like this? Seriously?" It was a question he had been itching to ask, but he wasn't sure why. He knew the obvious answer before Melony had even delivered it.

"Course, I'm always myself. No exceptions." She put her head on a swivel, making sure nobody in the building was paying attention. As she verified the other patrons were preoccupied, she smirked and allowed for the mouth on her hand to stick out its tongue at Holden, blowing raspberries his way before retracting and disappearing.

"Gotta say, kiddo, you're takin this all real well. I expected you to freak or somethin, and I was afraid I'd have to knock you out and tie ya up and deal with your crying and screaming and... bleh, all that jazz. But no! You're chill. I like that about you, y'know? All relaxed and edgy and quiet. You hardly spoke the entire time I carried you through the woods, and even when I threw you into my car. What's your deal, dude?"

Of course he took it all in stride. What choice did he have? Above all else, Holden despised the thought of rejecting blatant reality, no matter how absurd it may seem. He had already dismissed the possibility that he was dreaming or under the influence, and it wasn't like these events were wholly unprecedented . When his father left him years ago, the Earth itself had been flipped on its head from his perspective. This, while far more surreal, was not the first time the sensation of existential discombobulation had hit him. He felt it, yes, but didn't outwardly showcase it much. Although his mind may have been whirling, he could still recognize that sticking his head in the sand like an ignorant ostrich would not change a thing.

"What's my deal?" Holden blinked and leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. "I ran into a weird demon creature, and you came along and beat the shit out of it with your... powers. And then you literally ate it. Ate it with your stomach, yet you somehow still have an appetite. Now you have the audacity to ask me what my deal is?" His eyebrows furrowed, like he couldn't begin to imagine the thought process behind Melony's actions.

"That's a whole lotta complaining for a guy that was hanging out in a creepy house. You had spooky things happen in a sketchy place that you chose to go to, and you're surprised? Sounds like horror movie character logic to me, kid. You sure you're ok? Did ya hit your head? How many fingers am I holding up," She inquired, raising one hand. She held up three fingers, then seven, and then she had no fingers at all. Holden begrudgingly answered correctly each time, unsure why he was even indulging her.

"This is stupid... my head is fine. Your head, though, I'm not so sure. Look, just tell me what the hell is going on. What the fuck was that back there, and what even are you?" Once more, he leaned back and folded his arms together, clutching his elbows to stop his hands from twitching in agitation, his grip so firm that it rendered his knuckles white.

"Thought you'd never ask. Believe it or not, I've technically had training to explain these things to the uninitiated. But I kinda-sorta-maybe slept through all those boring lectures, to be honest." She shrugged her shoulders and rubbed her forehead, reprimanding herself for having not paid attention. "Whatever, who needs all that? I can tell you're a dude who likes straightforward chats, so I'll just be blunt. That thing we ran into was a monster, or more specifically, a cryptid. I'm sure the idea needs no introduction. You know, beings of urban legend and folklore. Yadda yadda, blah blah blah. As for myself, well, I'm a cryptid too in a sense. Half monster, half human. I'm what's known as a hybrid; a hybrid cryptid hunter, and I'm the best in the business if I do say so myself. Pretty damn cool if you ask me. And you, kiddo, are a hybrid as well... I'm pretty sure. Like ninety-nine percent confidence on that. What do ya think? Mind blown yet?!"

Melony widened her mouth into the shape of an "O", posing with a look of shock in anticipation of Holden's reaction. She expected him to launch upright from his seat and shout "What?!" with saucer-like eyes, so as she observed his unmoving, blank expression, she deflated like a balloon and threw her head back in disappointment.

"Seriously?! Nothin? Not even a little bit of surprise," she groaned.

"I am surprised. This is my surprised face," replied Holden, his monotone voice unchanging. There wasn't a singular shift of his nose, mouth, or eyes. Even his forehead remained uncreased!

"Uh-huh, sure! That's why you got that boring expression on you. You're making me look like a clown here," Melony declared, crossing her arms in annoyance and releasing a high-pitched, forced wheeze of exasperation.

"Not sure I'm the one who made you look that way..."

Melony's head dropped onto the table with a thump, her nostrils flaring as she exhaled and inhaled repeatedly, each breath deeper than the last. Finally, she sat up once more, adjusting her glasses and brushing the hair out of her face.

"Look, I know you believe me. After everything you've seen, there's no way you don't. You're too smart to be that deep in denial. Besides, don't think I haven't noticed that the wound on your chest from earlier has already scabbed over and stopped bleeding. Cus uh... I have. I do pay attention to some things, sometimes."

She was right, and it was a phenomenon Holden had realized as well. He simply refrained from commenting on it, not figuring it to be useful information to divulge to this woman. He couldn't deny her words, though. He knew his eyes hadn't deceived him, and he recognized that his own body had been acting in unnatural ways earlier that day. So, he chose to take her seriously. After all, she was the only one between the two of them who seemed capable of offering an explanation.

At this point, Holden was looking for anything to cling to in order to make sense of his recent experiences. He focused on her words intently as she continued.

"Regenerative properties are common among cryptids, but rare among hybrids. When running into a cryptid with those qualities, it's common practice to destroy its brain completely, leaving no room for its recovery. Though, I like to go the extra step and completely annihilate its body. So uh... yeah, sorry about that. I know that was kinda gross."

"Right, that's why you decided to pull a video game fatality back there. So... you're saying we're both hybrids? As in, one of our parents is a... cryptid," Holden asked. His eyes took on a purposeful, contemplative appearance as the implications became clear to him.

"Mhm, pretty much. At least one of your folks is a cryptid. Two hybrids can make a kid together too, though. Honestly, you're pretty lucky. Most times when a hybrid is born, it dies shortly after birth. Human biology is often rendered unstable by cryptid genetics, leading to premature death in the vast majority of cases. You, though, you lived, and probably inherited some ability based on the type of cryptid you were born from."

"Then... my mom. I'm certain my father was a human, I knew him for years, and I would have known if he was something different. I never knew my mother, though. Do you uh... think she was a cryptid too? She was one of them?"

"Well, if you're certain that your father was human, then yeah. Process of elimination, my dude."

To Holden, this revelation was groundbreaking. Could this be related to the fact that he never knew his mother? Perhaps this was tied to his missing father as well. For years, Holden had believed that the realm of speculation was as close as he'd ever get to answering these questions. That he'd never have the opportunity to truly understand why his parents brought him into this universe only to exit his life well before they were due to. If what Melony was saying were true, and his dormant abilities were indicative of the type of cryptid his mother was, then understanding his powers could help him further comprehend the nature of himself as well as her.

"So... what kind of ability do I have? Can you tell what my mother was, exactly? Just curious is all. It's interesting to me, I never got the chance to see for myself..."

Melony shook her head, confirming Holden's suspicions. Of course, she didn't know. She hadn't even witnessed the strange moment the lights flickered and Holden inflicted great violence upon the creature that haunted that old, rotten house. Holden himself could hardly recall it for that matter, and the details he could gather didn't seem to point to an obvious conclusion. Even after describing those events to Melony, she couldn't give a solid response as to what those moments might entail. Although he tried to hide it, the disappointment in his voice and face was palpable.

"You're positive you can't say…? How I felt like I was totally out of it, how my body acted on its own, how the lights turned on and off constantly. You don't have any solid ideas on what my mom could be?"

"Look, that's all real, real interesting kiddo. And I wish I could tell you, but I can't. I don't have enough info, not enough to even hazard a guess." She smiled reassuringly, reaching over and patting Holden's shoulder. "From the sounds of it, you regret that you never really knew her, don't you? And you wanna know... wanna understand what she is, and what you are. I get it, I do. I'm here to help you, okay? You don't gotta worry about working through all this on your own. You already know I'll give you a hand."

"Don't make it sound so pathetic. Even if that were true, you barely even know me, you shouldn't be making promises like this. You sound gullible and fooli-," Holden began before being interrupted once more.

"Hey, we went over this. Talk. To. The. Hand! I'm doin' it cus I wanna. Because that's what makes me, me. It costs me nothin to give you a little boost, even if you're gonna pretend you don't want it. I know what it's like... to wonder who I really am. How I found my answer is a story for another day. And y'know what? Finding out the answer is so worth it. It's a treasure unlike anything else in this world. And when you find a treasure that sweet, it's only natural to wanna share it."

Holden wanted to argue but decided to keep his mouth shut. Clearly, this woman was stubborn, but for a half-monster who viciously murdered a ghoulish abomination just an hour or two prior, she was surprisingly considerate. As the waitress brought them their drinks, Holden lifted up his cup of coffee and peered into the liquid. Soon, he would need to return to his apartment. He'd fix his dinner, arrange the rooms as he intended, and make his bed. In the morning, he would work for twelve hours a day, mowing lawns and cleaning yards until the sweat off his brow could fill a bucket.

With his own two hands, he'd slave away for enough money to pay for his rent and cover the other costs of living. For years, he'd been able to do it on his own, not needing to rely on someone apart from himself. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that this brand-new world he was entering was entirely foreign to him. That he'd need a guide to help him. Though he desired to push such facts to the back of his mind, he knew, at least subconsciously, that they were undeniable truths.

"Gross, you drink your coffee black?! No cream or sugar at all? Do you just like torturing yourself," Melony asked, snickering under her breath as she mocked Holden. "What's next, you're gonna ask the waiter to bring you the strongest liquor they've got? Are you the type that gets excited to drink sour-ass medicine?"

"You wouldn't get it, it helps my nerves," he replied, scoffing at her attitude. Against his better judgment, he was beginning to find her pushing his buttons to be a tad bit endearing, albeit still aggravating.

"If you insist." Melony lifted her drink, holding it out towards him. "Welcome to your new world, kiddo. You can call me Mel-Mel from here on out if you want. Or Melly. Whatever makes you comfy, really. On second thought, stick to Melony. I doubt someone as bland as you would bother with nicknames."

Pausing momentarily, Holden extended his drink towards hers, allowing their cups to clink. Finally, Holden allowed the top corner of his lips to curl into a subtle, but present smile. Although it was nigh imperceptible, Melony took notice and burst into an obnoxious laughter before cooling down and sipping her beverage.

"God, took ya long enough, I thought you were gonna sit there and look all mopey and dopey forever. Well, you're not bad at all, man. But you still gotta work on that attitude of yours. You'll get plenty of practice, maybe I'll rub off on ya. Let's eat, and then I'll take you home. I'm sure you need plenty of rest. When you're ready, give me a call. I'll leave you my number, so feel free to reach out at any time, kay? Cool."

Holden obliged. He could tell there were things she was holding back, and there were definitely still many things he wanted, no, needed to know. However, there was a time and place for that. For now, Holden was famished, and if she was going to insist on getting him a bite to eat, he may as well accept it just this once.

(Chapter Four: Snowfall)

A young boy slid into the room and rushed to the side of the bed, mildly tugging on his father's arm. His wide eyes of wonder danced with raw excitement as he tried to awaken his papa. Most days, the child would be snugly tucked under his blankets and sheets for hours longer, but this was not just any day. The sky wept beautiful crystals of ice and fluff. Winter begins, truly, when the land is first tinted white with snowfall. Even still, every kid knows that there are both real and fake snow days. The false ones are awfully deceptive, beginning with light flurries that promise to thicken and coat the ground substantially, only to peter out and melt away before it has a chance to stick. The true ones, and the one that presented itself that day, delivered on its oath to cover the world, the homes, and the trees as far as the eye could see.

"Hey buddy... up already? It's early, give me ten more minutes okay?"

"Pleaseee?! It's snowing, we have to go out and play before it goes away. Come on, come on!"

The man groaned and sat up, feeling the texture of his eyebags graze against his palms while he rubbed his head. Standing up and sliding his feet into a pair of bunny slippers that sat by his nightstand, he smiled and patted his son's head.

"Right, guess I can't win an argument with you. We can go out, but only after I make breakfast. And you have to clean your plate, alright?"

The boy resembled a bobblehead as he practically bounced off the walls, mind already planning the blueprint of the snowman he'd be making within the hour. First, though, came a well-cooked batch of scrambled eggs and sausage patties. Both the man and his son looked upon the meal, admiring the steam rising from every mouth-watering morsel.

"Wanna play a game," spoke the man

"Mhm!"

"Whoever can clear the plate the quickest gets to throw a snowball at the othe-"

He couldn't even finish his sentence before the child lifted his fork and began scarfing down everything in sight, hardly taking time to chew as he swallowed every bite like he'd been starving just moments before.

"H-hey! At least take some time to taste it. You could choke!"

The boy giggled and spoke in a mumbled fashion, words obscured by the chunks of breakfast stuffed in his mouth. Scraps and crumbs dropped down his chin every now and again, but he did slow down as per his father's request... somewhat.

"Sorry... You said to race and I'm beating you! Try to keep up!"

"Hm... but still, you shouldn't eat so hastily. Besides, it's bad for... wait. Hey, do you see that? What's that behind you?!"

The child's neck snapped back quickly, vision darting around behind him. To his surprise, the room appeared to be normal. He turned back, confused.

"What? I don't see anythi-"

His eyes widened in shock as he witnessed his father expeditiously digging his fork in and out of his plate, hardly chewing his breakfast either.

"What?! Hey, that's cheating!" The boy once again plunged into his meal, trying to keep pace.

They both slammed their utensils down at the same time, finishing in unison. The boy's grin, a boundless crescent stitched into the fabric of his face, preceded his abundant laughter when he realized he had tied with his cheating father.

"I win, I win! Haha, you didn't stand a chance!"

"We finished at the same time, don't be ridiculous..."

"You cheated and I didn't, so I won! That's how it works, right?"

"Excuse me?! Says the one who had a head start, I didn't even finish explaining the game before you were stuffing your cheeks like a chipmunk!"

"Doesn't matter, I won! Can we go outside now? I wanna make a snow angel and a snowman, and then an even bigger snowman... with a carrot nose and eyes of coal. And two stick arms, don't forget! We'll call him Frosty, like from the movie."

"Aren't you forgetting something? Big boys don't rush out without cleaning their plate first."

"But I did clean my plate, just like you asked!"

"Don't play dumb, you know what I mean. Wash it, and then we can go. Deal?"

The child stood up and huffed before marching to the sink, getting to work on his dish just as he was told. When he finished, he dried it with a cloth and neatly placed it back into the cupboard it came from. Upon returning to the table, he found it to be empty, his father's once-occupied chair now pushed back to its original, vacant position. Bewildered, he wandered to the front door which was conspicuously ajar, if only by a few inches. Reaching for his coat and pulling his arms through the sleeves, he stepped foot into the winter wonderland before him, before feeling a cold, spheric object nail him in the shoulder.

Turning in the direction of the impact, he had just enough time to notice the second snowball grow larger and larger as it approached.

"Wha-"

The projectile immediately caught him in the mouth, and he stumbled backward. Wiping the excess snow off, he looked up to see his papa scrambling away, retreating behind the front porch, ducking down out of sight.

"I see you!"

One, two, no... three snowballs had been collected into the kid's arm within moments, and he rushed forth in the direction of his father, locked and loaded with only one objective in mind; to pelt the man into undeniable defeat. Sliding beyond the perimeter of the porch, the child could hardly maintain his balance. This, however, became his advantage, as his awkward movements and forward momentum saved him from the snowball that had launched his way as soon as he appeared. It had hardly missed, and he felt the cold sting as it grazed his ear. Still, it wasn't a kill shot, and he knew it well. He propelled his arm forward, launching one lump of frozen destruction his father's way. It found its mark with utmost precision, crashing firmly into its target's chest.

The father spun backward and collected more snow, tightly compacting it between his gloved fingers and slinging it in his child's direction. The kid narrowed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He leaned back as if attempting the limbo, ducking underneath the assault as his eyes faced the heavens. The sun and its beautiful rays cast down upon him and the all-encompassing frost, like the hand of God itself had outstretched his way in all its glory. It was beautiful, for a moment, until he lost his balance and crashed to the ground. Grasping the opportunity, his dad widened his arms like a bear and scooped up a truckload worth of snow, preparing to deal the finishing blow.

The child glanced above, the sight of his doom sending shivers down his spine, though admittedly it could have just been the cool winter air. He raised his arms in preparation, gulping down the saliva that had accumulated in his mouth. This was it. The climax of his fierce battle. It all came down to this. He had failed, and would now have his fate sealed.

"You did good, but you can't beat your pops just yet."

The boy laughed, for he knew his father was right. He couldn't win... not straightforwardly.

"Any last words, son?" The statement arrived in a deep, booming voice that could even spook the bravest of men.

"Yeah... surprise!"

The boy, curling his hand into a fist, erupted upright and delivered a weak yet effective punch into the pile of snow contained within his father's arms. Both of their eyes expanded as an explosion of powder caused them both the fall, the impact cushioned by the snow underneath. The father and son... laughed. They extended their arms and legs, sweeping them up and down as angel wings now rested upon their backs. No longer did they speak, there was no need for words. They simply gazed upon the beauty above, admiring the sky and enjoying each other's company.

For a while longer, silence reigned. The boy stuck out his tongue, letting the pellets up above land delicately on its surface, melting away. His warm breath represented itself in the form of smoke as it moved from his lungs and departed his lips.

"Will you help me build a snowman," asked the boy.

"No. I wanna see you make one yourself."

"What?! But that'll take forever!"

"Yet I want to see you make it all the same."

"But why? You could help me! It would be so easy..."

"I could help you. Maybe I will help with the next snowman, next year. But this one, now, I would like you to accomplish alone. Do you understand?"

The child gave an irritated "hmph" as he stood up and got to work, creating mounds of snow over the course of seconds, then minutes, and even an hour. Three roughly congruent ovals stood in his wake as he finished. A large branch, split in half, would serve as its arms, two coals as its eyes, and of course a carrot for a nose. A sloppily coordinated series of pebbles pressed into the top mound of snow branded a light-hearted grin upon it. Finally, he removed his own scarf and draped it around the "neck" area of his creation, formalizing the look.

"There... done! Does it look good, papa? I tried my best on it."

"It looks decent, good start. You'll surely get better over time. How about you stand next to it? I'll take a photograph so we can look back on this together, alright?"

Withdrawing a camera, the man snapped several photos, each subsequent image displaying his child's gleeful smile widening even further.

"Very good. I'm proud of you, for getting it done and working hard at it. There's not always going to be someone to help you out, to do all the work for you. You did this on your own. With your own hands and legs, motivated only by your wish to get it done. That's a good thing. Do you feel accomplished?"

"I do! And I made it look so awesome, all on my own. I bet the other kids all had their parents do it for them. Not me!" The boy folded his arms and gently leaned against the snowman, striking what he undoubtedly thought to be a very, very cool pose.

"Hey papa...?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"You think mom would've liked it?"

For a moment, there was no response. Only the noise of the wind coursing through the trees whispered in the boy's ears.

"She'd think it was beautiful, yes. She would have adored it, just like she adored you."

The child's demeanor grew solemn as his smile faltered if only a little. He wanted to ask why someone who adored him had never bothered sticking around. How someone like that could have been gone before he had a chance to even remember what she looked like, how she sounded, and how soothing her touch had been.

Asking was a fruitless endeavor, he knew as much. He would be told that it was complicated, and he would be given vague, uninformative answers much like he always had. He was a kid, but he wasn't stupid. Still, he knew how these things were. How children are entrusted with more information as they grow older and more mature. So, he hoped that as he developed and came into his own as a man, he would be told why she wasn't around. Perhaps that's why his father tested him, making him do things on his own. To see if, and when, he would be mature enough to be given such knowledge. He held onto that hope, savored that hope, each and every night as he closed his eyes. That perhaps the next day, he would be ready.

Nonetheless, his authentic grin returned as his father's loving hand patted his head once more.

"Let's go inside, I'll whip up some fresh cocoa, just for you."

The child nodded and walked alongside his father, head turned upward the entire time. A snowflake settled upon his nose, and he closed his eyes, immersing himself in the feeling of bliss that came with it.

When Holden reopened his eyes, there was no snow to be found. Only the banging of rain as his umbrella was assaulted. In one hand was a bag of groceries, stocked with food. Having not felt in the mood to cook back home, he deferred to something that required no preparation. His shoes, now soggy from the current of water that rampaged the sidewalk, created a splash with every step. It was a terrible night to have gone out on foot, and he felt idiotic for not having checked the forecast prior.

Granted, there was a lot on his plate, distracting him from doing things he would otherwise default to. That included forgetting to grab his coat on the way out, despite knowing how chilly the autumn air would get. At the very least, his umbrella could shield him from the harsh elements. He removed the cigarette that loosely hung from his lip and flicked it into a nearby trash can, then cocked his head up to face his apartment complex as he grew closer to it.

On the wall of a building next to the complex, he noticed something strange. Small and shivering sat a dog, its coat of brown fur flattened as it was drenched. Whimpering and shaking, it had been curled up into a ball, eyes firmly shut with its head resting on the concrete pathway. Its stomach, if you could even call it that, was more akin to a stretch of skin that wrapped around its ribs, which were visibly outlined along its belly. Alone and under the unforgiving torrent, its chest rose and fell softly, lacking the vigor one would expect of a young pup like itself.

Approaching, Holden realized that the animal didn't even flinch as he entered its proximity. He signed and sat beside it, propping his umbrella against the side of the wall, such that it sheltered the pup from the abusive, unrelenting weather. He leaned the top half of his body over his groceries, letting his back serve to mitigate the rain. Reaching inside it, he pulled out a sandwich he had bought just minutes before, placing it beside the dog's head. Slowly it stirred, weakly sniffing the food before taking several small bites.

Once the pup had devoured half of the sandwich, Holden meticulously reached forward, letting his fingers brush through its head and scratch behind its ears. As he confirmed its lack of aggression, he carefully picked the dog up and held it closely against his chest with one hand while retrieving the umbrella and holding it above them both using the other. Entering the complex, and then his apartment, he placed the still-shivering dog down on his bed, bundling it in blankets and sheets alike. For hours he spectated his new guest, watching until it finally stopped shivering and drifted off into sleep.

Even still, he set out a sleeping bag next to his bed where the dog could finally rest with comfort. Opening his phone, he swiped his way to his contacts, where Melony's information had been preserved. Dialing her number, he pressed the phone against his ear.

"Yeah... it's me. I'll be ready by tomorrow. Stop laughing, okay? Asshole."

(Chapter Five: Pepper)

"Pepper. Your name is Pepper, got it?" The small pup didn't respond. Of course it hadn't, it was a dog. Dog's don't tend to speak very often.

Holden tried and failed to ignore the obvious issue with the picture before him. Last night, he had rolled the animal up like a burrito, confined within layers of cushioned blankets to provide it more warmth. Having given it his sandwich, he'd expected the meal to stave away Pepper's hunger, for a time. What he had not expected was for the pup's previously malnourished stomach to now be healthy and full. Figuring it to be a trick of the light, his observations would be vindicated after a trip to the veterinarian office revealed the dog to be free of ailment or injury.

From this, Holden derived two possibilities. Either Pepper was, as he put it, "weird as a bitch", or he had done something peculiar. Something that seemingly released her from the damage dealt by the long, cold nights she spent alone and at the mercy of the elements. Even without being able to pin down the root cause of this strange occurrence, the one thing he could not deny was the sweetness she displayed. His apartment wasn't crafted to house a dog, but Pepper scampered around with unlimited energy all the same, her tiny legs carrying her forward while she wagged her tail and let her tongue dangle from her mouth. She slept, drank, and ate, as any good dog should, and even Holden would admit that the striking magenta collar he bought for her made her appear quite dapper.

For a while he sat, placed squarely in the middle of the living room in a crisscross position. He would dully toss a light-yellow tennis ball back and forth, watching Pepper give chase, barking in protest whenever he attempted to retrieve it from her. Nonetheless, when she did submit, he would lazily fling it once more in some arbitrary direction. It bounced once, sometimes twice or even thrice, and settled again. As heavy, breathless pants were finally embedded within the pup's vocabulary, she curled up at Holden's feet like a rug, snoring as countless dreams of chew-toys and treats blessed her.

Holden would spend the rest of the day phoning his clients in the neighborhood, explaining that his services would be put on hold for an indefinite time. Beyond that, he packed basic supplies like clothes, hygienic materials, and dog toys into his black duffel bag. By then, dusk had arrived, splashing the sky-scape with mixtures of brilliant orange and elegant mauve. A baby carrier was strapped to the front of his chest, holding Pepper firmly against him. She was still weary, smacking her lips occasionally as she'd awaken every so often, only to drift away again immediately after.

This time, Holden had remembered to account for the lower temperatures. A light jacket, navy-blue in color, adorned his arms and torso. He'd been sure to select a chest-carrier with warm-cotton insulation, such that Pepper could be surrounded by a substance resembling the welcoming embrace of a cloud. For them both it was enough, enough to travel outside comfortably until they arrived at their destination. There in front of Crispy McGee's, the restaurant Holden had eaten with Melony at, was a medium-sized, several-year-old SUV. Standing outside of the white vehicle was she, leaning against the driver's door and fiddling with her lip and nose piercings to pass the time.

As she saw Holden approach, her aquamarine eyes lit up and she jumped up and down, waving her arms around to gain his attention despite already having it.

"Hey, hey, over here! Over here! What's that on your chest? Oh my- is that a..."

She bolted over, nearly toppling Holden. She opened her mouth as if to yawn, only to release a short-winded gasp while pressing her hands against her cheeks, eyes sparkling with adoration.

"Puppyyyyy! Oh my god it's so CUTE! You didn't tell me you had a dog, why didn't you mention that? That's the FIRST thing you should have mentioned, kiddo! And it's strapped to your chest like a BABY, oh my GOODNESS, you look like a MOTHER! A big strong mother taking care of her soft, little itty bitty helpless puppy. I mean it's so fitting, when I first saw you I also thought you looked like a helpless puppy, and now you're the one handling another helpless puppy, oh my GOD it's like helpless puppy inception, isn't it amazi-"

She stopped yammering as Holden grunted in aggravation and firmly bonked her on the head.

"Quit yapping, I'm here for a reason, not a show and tell. And stop being so loud, damn it... you'll wake Pepper up," he remarked, mumbling that last bit under his breath."

"Right, okay, whatever you say, puppy lover. Pepper is just the cutest name by the way... You can't blame me for getting excited, kid~"

She sighed and took Holden by the arm, practically dragging him to the passenger side of the vehicle before opening the door and tossing him inside. Marching back to the driver's side, she dusted off her violet turtleneck sweater that was clearly much too big for her, its sleeves extending to the midsection of her hands at any given point in time. With a click of her black sandals, she stepped foot into the car, entered her keys into the ignition, and hit the road.

"So it really took you a whole week to call me, kid. What, do I intimidate you?"

"I had to get my affairs in order."

"Forgot, you're the world's busiest seventeen-year-old boy. Say, you want me to turn on the A.C? Put on some music?"

"What I want is to hear what we're doing moving forward. One of the only reasons I'm coming with you is because you told me you'd be paying me enough to keep up rent while I'm away from home. Before all else, I want to be clear. That wasn't a lie, was it?"

Melony chuckled, using one hand to guide the wheel and placing the other on her chest, finding amusement in Holden's bold questioning.

"Christ, is this an interrogation? Are we in court? Fine, I'll say it under oath. I, Melony Harper, do solemnly swear on my honor, that kiddo... Holden Cauthwell, receives a monthly income of three thousand dollars. Consider it a paid internship."

"You really don't need to be such a pain in the ass, can't you take one thing seriously?"

"WHAT? I just swore under oath! If I were lying, you could sue me or even take me to jail, what's more serious than that?"

Holden gritted his teeth and rubbed Pepper's temple, using her to release some of the stress and annoyance pent up as a product of Melony's bullshit.

"So, what are we even going to do? Like, am I going to school...? Cryptid hunter academy or something? What's our next step?"

"School? Heavens no, were you not listening?! I said a paid internship. I-n-t-e-r-n-s-h-i-p. You're gonna be hanging with me and my gang, chillin and learning with the greatest hunters to ever exist. You're getting quite the deal, y'know. Most people could never dream of being in the presence of me and my crew, we're very selective of who we let in!"

"So selective that you're allowing a seventeen year old with no experience in?"

"HEY, LISTEN UP! INTERNSHIP! INTERNNNNN... SHIPPP! INTERNS AREN'T EMPLOYEES-"

Her eyes widened as she realized her yelling would awaken Pepper. Luckily, Holden had seen her outburst coming, placing both hands over the pup's ears in preparation. A cold glare from him was more than enough to make Melony chuckle half-heartedly and sink into her seat, looking somewhat ashamed.

"Sorry... okay, look. Just consider it on the job training. You want to uncover the nature of your powers, right? Well, sitting in some wack ass classroom isn't the way. Your abilities are like a muscle. You need to exercise and push it to its limits to strengthen it. Problem is, right now you don't even know where that muscle is or what it does. Sending you off to some lecture on how to use your powers would be like trying to explain how to run to someone who isn't aware of what their legs are or do. Get it?"

"Okay... so I need to have some inkling of what I can do and how to do it before anything else. And that'll happen how, exactly?"

"Easy! You claimed you used your abilities first back at the creepy little house we met at. I can all but guarantee they manifested at a very emotional, stressful time. That's almost always the case when someone is undergoing their first awakening. So, we'll repeat the process. Throw you into anxiety-inducing scenarios, and let your mind and body get to work!"

For a moment, Holden considered her explanation. He thought back to that day, as well as how Pepper's body had seemingly recovered overnight. Surely that was no natural occurrence. Had he done something akin to Melony's description? Utilized a muscle he wasn't even aware of, in a way he couldn't explain? He pondered over it, wondering what that could possibly imply about his abilities. Surely, they weren't built upon a foundation of "healing". He certainly wasn't repairing the body of the seaweed monster when the lights were flickering and he was bashing its skull in. Still, he didn't bring it up, as the meaning of what Melony was suggesting had set in on him.

"So, you're about to feed me to more cryptids like a piece of human bait?"

"Exactly, kiddo! You're just a baby who's first learning to move its arms and legs. One who can just barely stay afloat in the kiddie pool. I'm about to dunk you straight into the deep-end... relatively speaking. Don't worry, I'm taking you to handle a lower level cryptid, much like the one you already encountered."

"I'm sorry, what? That crazy television ghost thing was a low level one?"

"Yep! Slow, weak, basic and straightforward supernatural abilities. You got lucky. Dealing with a "level one cryptid" like that could tear down a few houses. Taking on a "level five cryptid" though... well, now we're talking about cities being potentially reduced to ash, with hardly a trace of their existence to speak of. That's if they're not put down properly. Few hunters can handle those. Not that it's a problem for me, though. I'm just sayin for your information."

"Wait, they're so strong... yet I survived against that one, even if it was weak. It attacked me and I lived. How...?"

"Like I said, your abilities briefly awakened due to the stress. Also, it's worth noting that cryptids and hybrids being near each other has a strange effect. Essentially, their close proximity strengthens the supernatural ability within them. To cryptids, this means they're much more likely to manifest or show themselves when close to a hybrid or another cryptid. For hybrids like you, you'll be able to subconsciously reach into your dormant power. This will also be aided by the stress you'll experience in those encounters. As you grow more badass and experienced like a certain someone in the car with you, you'll be able to consciously use your techniques."

"And once I can begin consciously using them, that's when training becomes an option."

"Mhm! You'll then be a real hunter trainee, and I'll even give you a slot within my cool faction!"

"So there are like, groups of cryptid hunters then? Am I reading that correctly?"

"You'd be right, kiddo. There are many groups like that, most of them small and unorganized. Though there are four recognized as major factions for their power and influence, and guess what?! My faction is one of them... even if we're smaller in numbers. Still, quality over quantity, that's what I say!"

After a while of driving and conversation, the car came to a stop in a desolate area. Stepping out, Holden was surrounded by wind and fields of grass stretching as far as the eye could see. In front of him, though, stood an empty and decrepit hospital, several stories tall in height. Melony exited the car as well, giving Holden a pat on the back.

"Smell that kiddo? That's the whiff of freedom and opportunity! I've got reports of a cryptid inside of that building, and I want you to deal with it, ya hear?"

"Wait... you're not helping me?"

"Nope."

"This is a bullshit internship..."

"Hey, it's a bullshit PAID internship, mind you! It won't be so bad, just go in there and kick ass. I'll be waiting out here, so... if shit gets bad, just scream "HEEELLLLPPP" for a while or something. If I'm not taking a nap, I'll come to your rescue."

"Thanks, that's real useful..."

"I thought so!"

With a groan, Holden removed the chest carrier from around his body and handed Pepper off to Melony, who's eyes and smile were a little too wide with anticipation. Still, Holden stepped foot towards the entrance of the hospital, peering into the dark abyss that stood behind the glass doors. Slowly, he reached out and grasped the metal handle.

"BOO!"

Holden jumped slightly and turned his head in Melony's direction, his gaze piercing her like a dagger.

"Sorry kiddo, just had to. Relax, you got this! Get those nerves out of your system and uh... give me a generational performance or something!"

Not even bothering to reply, Holden released a grumble and pushed the door open, stepping inside. As he did so, his body disappeared from sight and he entered the black void ahead.

(Chapter Six: Play With Me)

Off in a distant corridor, something horrible crawled along the walls and floors of the once bustling hospital. It knew of Holden's presence, though Holden could not see it. Rather, he felt a pressure within his chest cavity, one that ate away at him from inside with each step he took. As the hairs on his arms and neck stood erect, he knew that this was no mere drill. This was real, all too real. He was alone inside of an unknown labyrinth of doors and hallways, isolated from the outside world. Whatever occupied that space with him, no matter its appearance or history, projected a clear and concise intent.

Calamitous malice.

It was a sensation Holden had been prepared for, yet its sudden application was still off putting and impossible to ignore. With every motion, his movements became more apprehensive. The intuition of prey brewed within the heart and mind of he who pushed forward into the suffocating shadows ahead. No matter how courageous the man, his instinctual urges will always prioritize survival first. It will try and make him flee. When that fails, it will resort to tricking him, making him evaluate each and every component of his surroundings as an imminent threat. What was once a coat rack had transformed into a lanky, malicious man reaching forth to rip off his head. Chairs become hunch-backed goblins possessing watering mouths and a desire to sink their chipped, crooked teeth and claws into the meat and bone marrow of any wanderer. Only by directing his flashlight towards these slight hallucinations would they be dispersed, much to Holden's relief.

Taking a moment to steady himself, Holden whistled into the air, continuing his path ahead. Turning back was not an option now, for he was already here. Further he went, his imagination racing with even wilder nightmares. Long tendrils erupting from the walls, grasping his limbs and ripping him to pieces like a medieval rack, painting the room with what was left of him. He paid no mind to how every passing draft of wind seemed like someone was whispering into the back of his ear. Onward, he went. There was only onward. With it, the beating of his heart grew in volume, from a faint thumping, to a violent knocking. His mouth grew dry more frequently, forcing him to swallow often, although even that was only a brief reprieve. What others might discount as reasonable paranoia, Holden knew to be far more substantive. Melony had told him as much, after all.

When cryptids and hybrids are within a close radius, their supernatural capabilities manifest. However, what also emerges is the nature of those same supernatural capabilities. No matter how intelligent or experienced the being, they could not entirely conceal the intent, the attitude, the meaning behind their powers. Powers are only a mechanism of force, after all. What truly drives them, what really inspires them, are what ends those mechanisms are meant to achieve. Before, these things went unnoticed by Holden. Even after the woman who emerged from the television that day attacked him, this aura of ill-will had not infected his senses. Melony correctly presumed that after his exposure to both her and that creature, his sensory capacities would advance, and so they had.

What he felt now was something foul, something odorous, something corrupted. Neither life nor death, neither pain nor pleasure. The conventional incentives of both predator and prey could not apply to the domineering energy Holden felt coursing through his veins. Whatever shared space with him as he marched through the building had no such visions in mind for him. What they seeked was different, and perhaps even more malicious. To control him, to toy with him. To utterly subjugate him to its whims. The eradication of his will, the enslavement of his being. The cleansing and reconstruction of "Holden Cauthwell" himself.

It was only an intuition that fueled Holden's belief, but it was a strong one at that. He could trust his gut that he was entering the womb of the mother of thrall.

The ruined passageways of the structure continued, a disorganized clutter in all corners of the facility. Crumpled and torn papers were strewn about across the floor, with some even coating entire chairs and desks. Furniture had been toppled and, in some instances, stacked. Their positioning was often irregular, as some of the piles were sloppily built up to conspicuously open vent covers. Of what little Holden could see of the actual surfaces that constituted the walls, floors, and ceiling, all were muddied by sickly browns and greens. Based on their putrid scent, he would not be surprised if the discoloration were a product of vomit, piss, and shit compiling together. Even further it went, the trench beyond beckoning him to come closer. Holden began to perceive indents on the filthy walls and ceiling, wondering to himself what they could be. Based upon their size and curvature, the notion that they were footprints flashed in his mind, inciting an unpleasant image within his brain; that of an enormous arachnid on the prowl. Those displeasing beliefs would soon be made all the more worrying as Holden's ears perked up, alerted by the scuttling of feet in the distance.

"Great... I hate spiders."

At least, he hated the kinds that he couldn't simply swat away with a rolled up magazine. Up until today, he hadn't believed such a type existed. Still, ruminating on his disgust would be immaterial to his survival. What he figured he should do instead was devise a strategy. This was more difficult however, considering he was entirely unarmed, and hadn't a clue what the cryptid he would face was capable of. Melony likely knew, but refused to disclose such information. So too had she demanded he appear naked of any equipment that could help him in combat. According to her, the sole purpose of this "mission" was to allow Holden's body to be further exposed to a cryptid and, therefore, develop his willful manipulation of his dormant ability, whatever it may be. To bring a weapon and fight with it instead would defeat the purpose, and to have an exact understanding of the cryptid's abilities would make him overthink and distract his body and mind from acclimating properly, as she said.

"All that withstanding, walking in here like a sitting duck is unbelievably stupid," Holden mumbled with a sneer.

If it were truly a spider, it would mean that his mobility and strength would be vastly inferior to it. He also figured that he ran the risk of stumbling into oversized cobwebs that might litter the area, serving as an environmental hazard. It was with that thought, however, that two questions came to mind.

"Why haven't I seen any webs yet... and why were the footprints on the ceiling human-like?"

The thought that he was handling a half human, half spider creature formulated in his head, but he shot it down quickly. Melony had specifically told him that he was handling a cryptid, not a hybrid. Still, so far as he knew, it was possible that a half-human, half-spider creature could be a full blooded cryptid, but that still failed to account for the lack of webs thus far. He froze when he once again heard scampering all along the walls in the distance. This time, though, it was accompanied by a faint, childish giggle. One that echoed all throughout the structure, its innocence and soft tone juxtaposed by the context it took place in. Holden held his breath, opting to stand perfectly still so as not to attract its attention. This didn't stop the giggling from picking up once more, this time sounding a little closer to his position.

Backing away slowly, Holden understood that in such a vast space, it would be impossible to pinpoint the source of the laughter. He worried about how he would know its real distance, anxiety bubbling within him while he glanced around, eyes feverishly scanning all that he could. He flicked his wrist, shining light in all directions to aid his search.

Luckily for him, he would soon get confirmation that the noise had stemmed from the floor above. Sadly, his fortune was short-lived, because that fact was discovered by virtue of the many legs he heard barreling down the stairway ahead of him. This all culminated in the feet arriving at the bottom step before the stairway door flung open, revealing... nothing, at first. For a while, time passed, and that was all. Holden felt his heart jump up into his throat, forcing him to concentrate on dismissing his stress.

"Stay calm... it's just a low level cryptid, like Melony said. I've faced one before."

Right before his eyes, he witnessed a large, smooth head peek around the corner of the door, staring right at him with its glossy eyes. The head was that of a baby doll's, and after a moment of quiet, its mouth dropped open, allowing another giggle to escape its throat.

"Right, a creepy fucking doll... that's not too bad."

Then, it revealed more of itself, demonstrating to Holden that it was, in fact, that bad. As the doll's head extended beyond the scope of the door frame, its neck and body just kept going and going. At first, it appeared to just be the head, neck, and torso. Beyond that, though, were a myriad of limbs and parts, fused together like sloppy puddy. Arms mashed into one another to form long appendages that dragged along the ground. Its upper half was far too large and heavy for the multitude of "legs" that dangled and protruded through the bottom section of its torso. Thus, it could only sustain its standing position temporarily before falling forward and collapsing to the ground. Even still, it pushed itself towards Holden, slowly but surely gaining distance as laughs of joy emitted from its maw.

Every inch of its shell had long since cracked and dented, allowing a highway for roaches and centipedes to crawl around its exterior and then settle back inside. Those soulless eyes seemed to look right through Holden, although he knew damn well that he was the object of its attention. As it grew closer, its hodgepodge of parts along the lower half of its body flung upward and stuck to the ceiling like glue. With this it was rendered upside down, gliding along the ceiling and swinging back and forth as it pleased. Holden, still holding his ground, began thinking of how exactly to handle it.

"It's just a doll, and a damaged mashup of parts at that. If I can get some heavy hits off on it, it should crumble... but given how many limbs it has, getting close isn't the move. I don't wanna grapple with something like that or I'll get overwhelmed. With its awkward movements... I should be able to out-maneuver it, even if it's quick. I'll gain distance and find heavy things to throw at it from far back."

Analyzing the situation, Holden had a set plan in mind. So, it would be fitting to say he was left surprised when the creature opened its mouth and, after releasing another giggle, exclaimed the following.

"Hi the-the-there! W-Wanna p-p-play with me? Let's play... let's play! H-h-h-h-hide and seek! Let's play! Find me! T-try and find me! T-t-try and find me, you're it! You're the s-seeker! Come on, p-play with me!" It then abruptly turned around, and bolted away, its legs clinging to the walls as it clumsily moved out of sight.

"Shit... there goes my plans."

Immediately Holden gave chase, trying to find the Doll entity as quickly as possible. His heart sank as he realized that this dark place filled with many stories and doors would make it borderline impossible to fulfill his role as seeker effectively. Yet, he burst into every room he came across, sweeping every inch he could access. As he did, something Melony told him cycled in his head constantly. This possibility was one she had warned him of as well, and it was something he dreaded.

"Y'know kiddo, cryptids really are an interesting type of uh... type of whatchamacallit? Yeah, you got me? Point is, they're unique and tend to vary a lot. One type of cryptid is the more direct kind that you can just bully and beat down till it dies. Other's though... well, they're a little more annoying. A few of em' engage in these pesky rituals, ones where they set a series of rules on you as well as themselves. N' these quirky games of theirs can have a few different outcomes, depending on if you win, so to speak. These rules and outcomes can be fair and obvious, or they can be deceptive and worked around through loopholes. Whatever the case, you'll wanna identify which kind of shenanigans you're dealing with early on, or things will turn sour quick."

Holden's hands quaked while he moved, swiftly navigating the halls. Could he even be sure the thing was still on the first story? What would be the consequences if he failed?

"T-T-TIMES UP, PLA-PLAYMATE!"

Those words were followed by the sudden appearance of the entity as it blitzed towards Holden, stopping mere feet away from him. It positioned its devilish face near his, snickering in triumph.

"You lose! You Lose! You Lose! T-t-time for your punishment!"

Without warning, Holden fell to his knees and clutched his right arm in agony. It felt like excruciatingly hot iron rods were being pushed through his flesh, all the while the underlying tissue and muscle boiled and popped. In reality, as he looked down with trembling eyes upon his affected limb, he witnessed the skin itself cracking like a ruptured egg before peeling away and sinking to the floor. The white of his bone was visible as the once protective layer had been removed, and even the air stung like hell when grazing upon his exposed wound.

"I take your arm! I'll t-t-take more than your arm! I'll take e-e-e-e-everything, hehe! Arms, legs, body, I'll take it! A-a-all for me! A-Add to my c-c-collection! So we can p-play for etern-nity!"

As soon as the remaining skin had finished departing Holden's now mangled arm, a new layer began to replace it. Vinyl, like that of a doll, started forming around his muscle and bone. As it solidified, Holden found himself unable to move that part of him, and it now served as a stiff consequence of his inability, both literally and figuratively.

"Happy, happy, HAPPY! I'm SO HAPPY! PLAY WITH ME! P-P-PLAY WITH ME MORE! READY OR NOT, I'm GOING TO H-HIDE AGAIN, PLAYMATE. COME AND FIND ME!"

Once more, its childish voice carried far even while it darted off again. Holden watched it depart, still stunned from what had just happened. Lifting himself to his feet, he took several small steps forward, his brow furrowed and his teeth gnashing in pure frustration. Rather than allowing the pain to paralyze him, he embraced it while it tore through his body. He let it serve as a reminder that, simply put, failure was not an option. Give up and weep only to die a worthless death, or grab that fucking doll by the throat and crack it against the wall. To him, those were the only two choices. He could feel it. His own aura, his own intentions. As he heard the cryptid quicken its pace somewhere out of view, he was sure it felt it too.

Holden's desire need not be said. In a room devoid of noise, even a pin drop could register in the ears of all who listen. So too would his intent be heard clearly, when he rendered his target silent.

"You annoying little shit… Ready or not, I'm coming for you."

(Chapter Seven: Bloodlust)

"Damn it legs, go faster!"

It was a phrase Holden uttered again and again, racing through the darkness in pursuit of the cryptid. He could hear it just moments before, shifting through the vents in the ceiling, passing through the maze of halls. There was no conceivable way to track it accurately, and time was running out fast.

"I can't sense its intent, how is that fair?! It shouldn't be able to suppress itself like this, I was told that in no uncertain terms... What am I supposed to do, fling myself in some random direction and hope it works? I may as well be looking for a needle in a haystack."

Like he thought, his search was fruitless. The endless possibilities of hiding spots meshed with the short timespan allotted, rendering all hope null and void.

"It's like this whole thing is rigged against me. Of course it would be, the house always wins... It's dragged me into its turf. And right now I'm operating by its rules."

His footsteps slapped against the marble floor. He veered his head upward, gazing towards the ceiling. Holden considered that perhaps the footprints it left behind would lead him in its direction. This idea fell flat, though, as the very footsteps in question did exist, albeit in the most unhelpful way imaginable. The markings and their trajectory spread out omnidirectionally, implying no discernable destination.

"T-t-time is up, PLAYMATE," shrieked the creature, its high-pitched squeal vibrating the pathway.

"Shit!" It was all Holden could get off before the entity clamored his way, its undeniable speed allowing it to appear before him within a matter of seconds.

"Too late, TOO LATE! You l-lose again, you didn't f-f-find me! Now I take, take what's MINE, p-p-p-p-PLAYMATE!"

With madness in its eyes, the giddy creature laughed hysterically, the sound distorted by scratchy cracks in its voice. Again, the searing sensation afflicted Holden's remaining arm, making him cry out in pain. He crashed against the wall, head thrown back as unrelenting suffering defined itself within him. His eyes watered, tears trickling down his face and stinging his cheeks. Not daring to look down, he knew what had become of his arm. It shared the same fate as its brother, the skin ripped from its place to be substituted for a smooth, glossy surface instead.

"Keep up, keep up! I'll t-take everything-from you! All your flesh, your blood and b-b-bone, your life! Everything, everything, everything! Try and find me, f-f-find me if you can!"

The thing cackled wildly and flew past Holden, heading in the opposite direction. Holden looked upon his two arms, now entirely corrupted and useless. His long black hair messily draped over his shoulders, many strands clinging to his face due to the sweat he emitted. Eyes glued to the ceiling, shallow pants crawled through his slightly parted lips. On one hand, he felt grateful for the shock that somewhat dulled the pain. On the other hand, he understood it to symbolize the dire nature of everything.

"Should I call for her... Will she even hear me? No, probably not. She... Did she send me to die? Was that it? Was that why she told me to come in such a vulnerable, pitiful state? Why did I listen to her... I'm such a damn fool. Should've trusted myself instead, should've never even come. How the hell is this worth it? How does getting killed like a dog bring me any closer to... to... damn it. What the fuck is the point? Moving is torture, part of me wants this to end. I'm not scared, damn it! I'm... sick of this.

He closed his eyes, his body unable to stop shaking. With every second that passed, the gravity of his fate began to set in more. Was this it? What is one even meant to do in the face of their own mortality? Accept it, or reject it? Could a satisfying conclusion truly be reached in mere moments?

"Sixty seconds... that's how long each round lasted. One minute to find some shitty doll hiding somewhere in a hospital building. How is that even possible? There's not a chance... hell, I bet even that thing couldn't find someone hiding in here if it were only given a minute. Just my luck to be made the seeker..."

Fifteen seconds had passed. Forty-five remained before Holden Cauthwell's assured destruction.

"It's already ruined my arms. If it does the same to my head, I die. If it does it to my legs, my mobility goes away. Either way, I'm dead. And the fact that it can suppress its own intentions... that's ridiculous. I guess it makes sense. If it couldn't do so, I would be able to track it. Unless of course... unless it isn't the one removing my ability to sense it. As far as I was told, nobody can do that. Maybe... maybe it's not doing that. Maybe the rules of the game are. Melony did say that these rituals could contain unfavorable loopholes. Maybe that's it. The rules it enforces are responsible for my inability to track it, not the cryptid itself..."

Thirty seconds had passed. Thirty remain before Holden Cauthwell's assured destruction.

"It'll be back soon, it'll come to me and finish me off. Is that right? Yeah, it is. Well, shit. If that's the case, then I may as well...

Forty-five seconds had passed. Fifteen remain before Holden Cauthwell's assured destruction.

"Suppose this is it. No use trying to play by its rules anymore. There really is no point to it..."

Sixty seconds had passed. None remained before Holden Cauthwell's assured destruction.

"T-TIME IS UP! TIME'S UP, TIME'S UP, P-PLAYMATE. I'M COMING FOR YOU!"

The creature burst forth, rapidly emerging from the darkness. Its many appendages dragged along the ceiling, pushing it ahead. A delighted, crooked smile pushed the boundaries of its face, clearly displaying its attitude on the situation. In its mind, victory was achieved. The predator had triumphed over the prey, the delectable taste of success coating its tongue like honey.

"I win, I win! You are... you are g-going to be my p-p-plaything forever! For e-e-eternity! My toy! MINE TO TRIFLE WITH!"

Then, it stopped. Its grin vanished as it realized that, inexplicably, Holden was nowhere to be found.

"H-Hey! Come out! Y-You lost, plaything! Y-You lost your flesh... your meat... It's mine! Come out!"

...

Silence.

"I SAID... I S-SAID COME. WHERE ARE YOU, PLAYTHING? I D-DEMAND... YOU COME OUT! PLAYTHING... COME HERE."

...

Nothing.

Releasing an unholy scream, the being started to rampage through the area, tearing apart every wall and desk in view. It struck and smashed the chairs, scrambled the IV units, all in a showcase of raw fury.

"Y-YOU'RE CHEATING, PLAYTHING. WHERE ARE YOU!? I S-S-SAID, REVEAL YOURSELF. REVEAL THAT T-T-TENDER SKIN... LET ME TAKE IT. TAKE IT, TAKE IT, TAKE IT. I WANT TO TAKE IT. I WANT IT. GIVE IT, NOW!"

As much as the entity's awful din continued, the vacuum of silence would once again cave in on the area. The cryptid's eyes grew into saucers, realizing with horror what was happening. It started to claw and bang its body against the floor in agony while the vinyl on its face chipped away, blood releasing from within its head.

"IT HURTS, IT HURTS, PLAYTHING! YOU'RE SO CRUEL. S-S-SO WITHOUT MERCY. W-WHY?! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? I JUST... J-JUST WANT TO PLAY WITH YOU! THAT'S ALL..."

More and more, its glossy surface peeled away. Warm muscle tissue started to surface in replacement of the former material. Its volatile, shrill cries never ceased, continuing even while it twitched in a messy pile, sprawled across the floor like a dead body. That's when it sensed it. The intent, the reason, the implicit but clear emotion that rushed forth. Out from the shadows stepped Holden, his doll-like arms dangling while he trudged forward.

"You never gave me a fair shot, did you? This was never a real game... just a means for you to kill me. Very clever... I can appreciate something as gross as you being able to think. You're a smart animal, you know that?

The cryptid began to crawl away, slithering a few feet back at a time as it clutched its newly formed face.

"Hurts, doesn't it? That burning sensation, that feeling like you're going to die. It makes you feel alive, that torture is proof that you're real, that you're breathing. That's the cruelty of it. To make you reach that peak, only for the coin to flip and remind you that your end is near. You're a nasty bastard, you know that?"

"P-please... I just wanted... w-wanted to play."

"I want to thank you, actually. For giving me that despair. Allowing me to experience that fever. That burning pain... Its heat melted away my confusion and gave me clarity. Clarity as a product of my realization that I wanted to live. It was something I'd always known, but it was never quite tested. Not until tonight. And you... you gifted me that."

"W...What did I do... W-What did I do wrong, plaything... to deserve... it hurts, it hurts, it hurts..."

"You're pretty damn good at hide and seek. You chose the perfect environment, one where there are so many places to go, that a seeker wouldn't have a chance. Not to mention how neither the hider nor the seeker could sense each other. But you knew that as well, didn't you? That if you made me the hider, you'd never stand a chance. Most would leave it at that, accept that the odds are that way. Accept that and move on. Not you... you got creative, didn't you?"

"P-Plaything... l-leave me a-alone... you c-c-cheated...," spoke the creature, tears formulating around its eyes.

"The best players in a game are the ones who shift the odds in their favor prior to the game commencing. Is it cheating? Maybe. But I won't deny its efficacy. In a game where the seeker faces almost impossible odds, what role should you play if you want the best chance at winning? The hider, right? Nah... not the hider. You'd still choose to be the seeker."

The lights in the room began to flicker, all the while Holden's malice became more and more overbearing, embedding itself into the building itself like a plague.

"The only thing more advantageous than being a hider... Is being a seeker who convinces the hider that he doesn't need to conceal himself."

Holden slowly put one foot in front of the other, steadily approaching the creature. The lights, now strobing, would be intense enough to blind anyone so foolish as to peer inside the room. The entity screeched, covering its now bleeding eyes with its hands.

"I was never the seeker, was I? Sure, you told me I was. Told me to find you. You even ran off and hid somewhere for a while, playing the part. But even with all that, you were always the one seeking. And seeing how you are now, on the ground and bleeding, shivering in fear..."

Holden now stood over the being, looking down upon it with a blank stare. His arms, both enveloped in plastic, began to chip and peel once more. As the vinyl substance fell, it made way for something new. He was again granted his original form, his limbs regrowing their flesh.

"You really should have been the hider instead."

With supreme efficiency, Holden reached forth with both arms, smashing his fists into the cryptid's nose. Left, right, left, right, the force he applied proved insurmountable. Red gushed from every orifice in its face, coating Holden's knuckles. It screamed and screamed, trying to wriggle free. This action only resulted in Holden stomping his foot down onto its chest, holding it firmly in place. He palmed the thing's head, lifting it up with newfound strength and slamming it straight into the wall. With a vile cry of despair, it attempted to bolt away and cling to the wall, carrying itself towards a vent cover. It grasped the grate, trying to stuff itself within the vent and escape. No amount of planning or desperation, however, could prepare it as it felt Holden's arms grasp its various legs and rip it down from the ceiling. Piece by piece, Holden, grabbed every arm and leg attached to the creature and brutally tore it off.

No longer did Holden speak. His expression had morphed into something more terrifying than the sadistic facial displays the cryptid had produced. Complete neutrality. A dispassionate look that contradicted the murderous intent that exuded from him. The cryptid could no longer comment on its situation. It could only cry as Holden's fingers jammed into its eyes, sinking deeply into its skull. With a firm yank, he tore its head from its shoulders. Then, throwing the head to the ground, he began to relentlessly stomp into its skull until all that remained of the being was a mushy pile of red and pink.

Inspecting the blood on his fingers, Holden wiped his hands on his shirt. From behind him, the sound of clapping erupted. He turned, seeing Melony behind him, seemingly appearing from nowhere.

"Bravo, kiddo! That was insane! I mean, I was gonna jump in if things got real bad, but you handled it well. Made a bit of a mess but hey, that's to be expected. Oh! Uh, you're looking at me kinda funny. Don't worry, your doggy is fast asleep in the car. Left the air conditioning on for her and all that so she's fine. Let's get you back and cleaned up, and maybe even get you a nice warm meal. You deserve it."

Holden didn't respond, nor did his violent intent decrease. He stared at her, looking directly into her eyes. Curling his hand into a fist, he started to approach. Holden, or at least what looked like him, had seemingly entered a mode that made him different. As Melony raised her eyebrows and smiled slightly, she seemed to recognize this as well.

"Ah... so that's how it is, huh kid? Not sure what's going on with ya, but if you're asking me to slap some sense into you, I'll do it."

She cracked her knuckles and walked forward. Whatever power Holden had achieved, it was obvious to her that it was affecting his mental state. It was best she confront him now and subdue whatever this was, lest others be potentially put in harm's way.

"Alright, have it your way. I'll go easy on you, but don't start cryin' like a punk when I show you what's up!"

(Chapter Eight: The Peak)

"Kiddo, I gotta warn ya, I find it hard to hold back sometimes. I know you're not yourself right now, hell, I dunno if you can even hear me. But this is a good opportunity. Whatever is going on with you, it seems you're operating on violence alone. You won't restrain yourself, we'll get a full display of who you are. Isn't that exciting?!"

Melony removed her glasses and tucked them neatly into her pocket. Holden had no vocal response to give. Instead, his feet pounded against the ground as he rushed forward, grabbing Melony firmly by the arm.

With a forceful swing, he threw her across the hall, walls collapsing into rubble as she crashed through each barrier. Nonetheless, both of her arms were positioned behind her, her hands serving as a comfortable cushion for the back of her head. She allowed her body to relax, her form like that of a liquid, giving no resistance whatsoever. As the twelfth wall gave way, she slid across the floor. Staring upwards at the ceiling, it was apparent that all that effort amounted to was the dirtying of her clothes.

"Damn, not the fit, now I gotta wash these tonight... Your physical strength has certainly increased. Wonder what that's abou-"

She was cut off as Holden appeared before her within a fraction of a second, wrapping his fingers around her ankle and lifting her up. As she was rendered airborne, Holden swung downward, attempting to imprint her face into the marble floor below. Instead, he grunted in pain when he found himself in that position, and it was his ankle that was inexplicably being held.

"And you're fast... the level you're operating at right now is like that of a level two cryptid. This is weird, y'know? For a kid who just learned he was unusual last week, this much development isn't typical. Are you juicing or something? I could make you pee in a cup, don't test me!"

Melony grinned wide and flung Holden upwards, sending him up through the ceiling and into the second story of the building. As Melony ascended through the gaping hole she'd created, she approached him and placed her hand on her chin.

"Don't tell me your power is that you're a meathead... don't get me wrong, I can appreciate a hard punch. But I'm sure you can do better. C'mon, show me somethin!"

Holden silently rose, the neutral expression engraved upon his face still remaining. As the two stood in a care unit, his hand moved like a blur and smashed through a nearby drawer. From it, he withdrew a scalpel, one that had long since rusted. Without hesitation, he threw the blade straight at Melony's head, the projectile slicing through the air in its horizontal position. With a sigh, she opened her mouth and caught the scalpel between her teeth. As it entered her lips, she began to chew, crunching the metal itself. She let her mouth hang open, allowing the crumpled ball to fall to the floor with a soft clink. Sticking her tongue out in a mocking fashion, she laughed, daring Holden to come at her once more. So, he did.

The lights above flickered, if only briefly. Their soft buzzing provided a gentle ambiance to the surroundings, one that could drive someone mad if they were cursed with enough exposure to it. Holden dashed towards her, throwing a punch her way. She blocked with her hand, catching his fist in her palm.

"Is that all?" Her tone was inquisitive, a genuine curiosity emerging from her. Surely there was more to it, and she would get her answer as her ears embraced the sound of blood dripping to the ground. She backed away slightly, looking down at her hand. A puncture wound had appeared, etched into her flesh. Once more, Holden ran towards her and unleashed a flurry of punches. Melony tilted her head in contemplation, raising both arms and guarding against the hooks and jabs he attempted. At the end of the combination, he lifted his right leg and kicked her calf. As the dust settled, dozens of puncture wounds manifested on her arms and calf, blood seeping from the injuries in copious amounts. Many of it landed on Holden, droplets smudging his skin and apparel.

It only took a moment for Melony to repair the damage she sustained. Her eyes glimmered with satisfaction as she got a taste of just what he was capable of.

"Damn, now that was unexpected. You really took me for a ride there. I wanna pay you back, with interest. Quite frankly, after that performance you gave me, my competitive side is starting to ramp up. Can't just let a newbie like you outdo me so easily, right? I could never save face if that happened… mind if I show off a little?"

Saliva mixed with trace amounts of blood exited Holden's mouth as Melony's foot embedded itself within his gut. He was tossed back a great distance, all from an attack he hadn't even witnessed. Through the collateral and soot left behind, Melony revealed herself. As Holden coughed and clutched his stomach, he stood up and faced her. She was pointing at him while wearing a sweet, earnest smile. As they resided in a waiting room, the windows aligning the walls showcased the stormy weather outside. Now, the night had set in, asserting a pitch-blackness that dominated the landscape. As rain abused the glass from the exterior, only the flickering fluorescents and thunderous lightning offered brief vision for both combatants.

"So what do ya think of my ability, kiddo? You've picked up on it by now, the ability to warp and manipulate the structure of my body. It's cool, yeah? Don't answer, I know it's cool. We're probably on the same page about that."

Lightning cracked once more, coating the room in a blue light. The two stared at each other. Holden's cold, careless expression contrasted with Melony's bright, beady eyes.

"Boring, uncreative people might use the power to just make their arms bigger and stronger. Slightly less lame individuals may go the next step and enhance their senses, or optimize the efficiency of their brain. All well and good, I happen to dabble in both myself, but still pretty damn basic. Then there's the alchemy side of things. Altering the molecules of the body itself. Turning flesh to gold. Now that, that's what the hell I'm talking about. But even still... BORRRINNNNGGG!!!"

The branches of trees scraped against the siding of the building, reaching out like the finger bone of a skeleton. With each pitter-patter of the storming rain, Holden took step after step towards Melony.

"What's the point, right kiddo? What's the point in manipulating the body... without understanding what the body is, fundamentally? Enhancements, alterations, restructuring, you don't need to get what the essence of the body is to do that. Only when you expand your mind, only when you think outside of the box, can you truly understand. Understand that the body is a web of systems, and each strand of that web is intricately tied to another. Ordering it, guiding it, maintaining it. The body is a machine. A computer. A program. A series of codes and mechanisms... Do you understand?"

She chuckled and slapped her palm against her forehead, looking down at her feet.

"Sorry, I tend to ramble sometimes... you get it though, right? That my ability isn't that of a simple shapeshifter. It's that of a programmer, with my body as my machine. And what's the bedrock of a program? It's code, the input and output. A sequence of if, then statements. If some condition is met, the code activates another process. This understanding, this realization, this is what it means to be a true cryptid hunter. It's what separates the strong from the strongest. What differentiates those who arrive at a plateau, from those who step off of it, only to reach new heights. To surpass your limits and awaken once more… This is what it means to sit upon the peak."

Holden began to grunt as he strained his body, still attempting to move forward. He found that no matter how hard he tried, he could no longer advance. The counter-force was so strong that he stumbled back. Once more he steadied himself and tried to push ahead, only to be immobilized the moment he began to achieve progress.

"Get this... remember when you stabbed me with your punch? Even saying that sounds bizarre as it rolls off my tongue. Bleh, whatever! The thing is, your strikes gained an element of sharpness to them, one that was sufficient to pierce me at the time. So, as you were attempting that little attack of yours, I set a condition in motion. If my blood were released from my body, it would activate a negative magnetic charge. Now, as we speak, I've invoked a negative charge within the blood inside my body. We're repelling each other. You can struggle all you like, but you'll achieve nothing, ya dork! You won't touch a hair on my head."

She giggled and observed as Holden continuously tried and failed to close the distance between them. With every grunt, with every bead of sweat that he produced, with each meaningless attempt he made to surpass the insurmountable, her grin only grew wider. Though, this display could only entertain her for a time. Like watching a hamster run indefinitely on a wheel, the boredom began to settle within her. So, she walked forward. She came closer and closer, all the while Holden was pushed back. Even with all the strength he could muster in protest, it did nothing to prevent him from being pressed against the wall, stuck between it and the magnetic pressure applying to his front. Either the wall would give way, or he would.

"Switch."

Those were the words Holden heard before he was thrown forward. His body moved on its own, gliding through the air in Melony's direction.

"The conditions are reversible, obviously. Your charge remains negative, I can't exactly control the properties of parts of my body that have been removed. At least, not beyond how I programmed them to be prior to their separation. But by flipping my magnetic polarity to a positive one, well... y'know what they say, kiddo. Opposites attract!"

As Holden entered her proximity, Melony snickered with delight, seemingly unable to completely subdue her thrill of battle. She lifted her leg and applied a kick directly to Holden's face, resulting in a shockwave of such potency that the room shuddered and the surrounding windows shattered. Holden tumbled backward, crashing through rooms and furniture. For what felt like minutes, his body simulated a rag doll, all until the attack culminated in him colliding with the final wall and exiting the building. He dragged along the ground and arrived at an isolated clearing, hitting his head and slumping down to the ground. Appearing over him, Melony crouched and looked into his eyes.

"Damn, I might've hit you a little too hard. Ya good? Hello? You need a pack of ice? Hellloooooo? You're seeing stars ain't ya? It's okay, I remember the first time I saw stars. Well, they were actually tweety birds. Didn't hear em tweet though, there was just this annoying buzz in my ear... kinda disappointing."

Holden was motionless yet conscious, glaring up at her in silence. She noticed his fingers twitching slightly as the rain pelted against them both. As they remained in the open field, Melony studied him with interest, unsure of what his next course of action would be.

"So... what's next? Our dance isn't finished this quickly, right? This has been damn good for my muscles, gotta flex em' every now and the-"

She paused as a brilliant light consumed them both. Melony glanced up, mouth hanging ajar as she witnessed a bolt of lightning erupting from the sky and hurrying toward them both like a hungry lioness chasing a gazelle. Her eyes widened as the heat of the electricity hung directly over her head, its energy on the cusp of enveloping her body. As the electricity landed, it struck the ground with unrelenting fury, scorching the Earth and charring it.

"You... damn. That was you, wasn't it? You sneaky bastard, that could've really fucked up my sweater! Count yourself lucky that I'm so forgiving."

Melony gave a soft "hmph" and set Holden down on the ground. He blinked, disoriented by their change in position. There they both stood, roughly a football field away from the lightning strike.

"M...Melony? What...?" Holden groaned, his voice strained from his exhaustion. With a bright smile, Melony patted his head much to his dismay, although he lacked the energy to swat away her hand.

"Oh, you're back kiddo? Wassup?! You made some... interesting progress tonight. I'll be sure to tell you all about it. Let's get back to the vehicle and go somewhere warm, though. Don't like all this mud and rain stuff, it's so dirty!"

"Whatever... just shut up so I can get some sleep... please."

Melony gave a gentle nod and carried Holden back to her car, laying him across the backseat. Pepper arose from her slumber and, with a wag of her tail, came and licked Holden's face in excitement. He released a deep breath and cradled her close to him, and within no time at all, he was fast asleep. As Melony drove, she glanced back at Holden through the rear view mirror, nodding her head to the tunes playing on the radio.

In Holden, she saw something special. An abundance of untapped potential contained within the vessel of a seventeen year old boy. She knew that once he discovered it, he would be something he couldn't even dream of. That upon the unraveling of the essence of himself, he would ascend to a level of clarity and strength that only a handful throughout history could realize. To start at the ground, to climb the mountain, and to even dip through valleys as he endured the process ahead. All the same, his destination, in her mind, would be like that of what she had come to reach. His ability was like that of a flower. Should he tend to it, nurture it, understand it, and even love it, then he too would become it.

The peak.

(Chapter Nine: Space Dust)

Eyes shifted to the stars, a child can't help but dream of exploring the Heavens above. To be an astronaut and drift among the stars, your suit wrapped in the embroidery of fabric known as cosmic dust. Space is not to be seen as a cold vastness of nothingness, but a playground further, in the eyes of a kid.

"I want that one dad. The big shiny one right there." The child pleaded, back pressed against the grass he laid upon. There on that lone hill, the two resided, heads tilted upward to view the night sky. Their ceaseless adoration of what sat just beyond reach would draw them to this spot time and time again, if only to peer into the greater beyond again, all to grasp that feeling it instilled within them. A feeling of smallness, a sensation of perspective, to know that they were simply a minute piece of a grander universe.

The wind gently coursed its fingers through the scalp of trees and grass alike, rustling leaves and swaying vegetation. The peaceful harmony it produced was akin to that of a dozen birds chirping in unison, delighting the ears of man and beast alike.

"You want a star? As in, to own one and place it in your pocket?" Asked the father, looking over to his son. With an affirmative nod, the boy smiled in response.

"Of course... look at it, it's so small up in the sky. Small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. I can take it and put it in a jar, and use it just like a night light." He pointed upward at the star he desired, pretending to clutch it tightly.

"Aren't you a bit old for a night light? I've told you again and again, the only reason there are monsters in your closet is because they're hiding from your pops."

"That's not funny dad, you know I hate when you say things like that. They're hiding from me instead. I'm strong enough to take em!" The boy giggled and began swinging his fists into the air, striking at imaginary targets with self-perceived courage and valor.

"Are you now? Tell me, what would you do if a big, green, slimy monster came out from under your bed in the dead of night? How would you handle it?"

Vision still glued to the glimmering sky, the boy considered his father's question for a moment. Whisked away to fantasy land, he imagined the scene unfolding in his head. The thumping as the monster's arm slid out from under the bed and grabbed the frame. Sloshy, guttural gurgles violating the dead silence before the beast would arise from the floor, looming above the child and casting its shadow across his body. Its cold, unblinking eyes emitting a reddish glow as it leers at the boy, licking its lips and exposing the daggers for teeth contained within its salivating mouth.

"Well... I'd stand up and get big! Throw my arms out and puff my chest at it. Make it know that I'm a man, and all monsters fear men. And then I would shout at it, tell it to run and chase it when it does! I'll chase it to the front door and kick it out of the window and laugh and tell it... never come back ever again, or I'll... I'll... do something bad!"

The boy calmed down after his monologue and returned to silence, tilting his head in the direction of his father. Expecting a reaction, he was surprised to be greeted by a low sigh from his old man.

"Is that it? You'll fight the monster off, scare it away? Do you think that's the way to defeat a monster, especially on your own?"

"Well... yeah. If something is trying to hurt you, you defend yourself. Isn't that right? You can't just expect a monster to be talked out of being a monster. Monsters are monsters, even if you ask them not to be, right?" He mumbled this faintly, as if questioning it himself. His confidence in this conviction faltered, noticing how unresponsive his father was to this proposition.

"That's usually right. You often can't convince something like that to be anything else. Much like I can't convince you to no longer be my son. Some things are unchangeable in nature. Other's, not so much. Have you ever thought that the monsters can be changed? Much like people can be changed. I heard uncertainty in your voice. Have you thought it over, are you certain of it?"

"Could monsters be changed? I don't know, I've never thought about it. Can they, dad?"

"No. The answer is no. If monsters could change, we wouldn't call them monsters. That's what we call something when it's gone beyond the point of no return. When it defines itself by its hatred and desire to hurt."

"Then why did you ask me that?" Confusion flashed across the boy's eyes as he looked to his father for an answer.

"To see if you had an answer." His reply was cold and blunt, stated without a moment of reconsideration or doubt.

"But... why? Why does it matter if I have an answer?"

"There should always be an answer. Or at least, you should always have a plan to get an answer. Otherwise, you don't know why you think what you do. You told me that monsters fear men, yet you yourself don't understand what a monster is."

"So... so what? So what if I didn't understand?"

"So, if you lack understanding of what makes a monster, yet you believe monsters fear men, then how could you claim to be certain of what a man is?"

"I don't know, I just kinda... figure that I'm a man. I know what I am, right?"

"Do you? You may think you do, but it's possible you don't. If you knew what a man was, you would never have said that it is a man who monsters fear. You never would have defined a man by what he makes frightful."

"Is that wrong? You've told me that it's okay to defend yourself, okay to not let others hurt you."

"So I have. But that doesn't mean that instilling fear within those who want to hurt you should be your main goal. Look to the stars. See how beautiful they are. How brilliantly they glow. When you appreciate the beauty of the stars, you aren't appreciating how easily they could destroy the planets and moons of this solar system. You're mesmerized by them in spite of that, not because of that."

"Planets and stars and people are different, dad."

"But the meaning is the same. It's true that a star can obliterate a planet. So too is it true that a man can inflict great violence upon others, perhaps even others who deserve it. I told you before that monsters are called what they are because they've gone beyond the pale. They've adjusted their understanding of themself and their purpose to be that of a machine that spreads harm. If that's true, then what do we make of a man who only fights monsters to find pleasure in harming them?"

"A monster..." Replied the child.

"Precisely. A monster."

"So you're saying that hurting monsters makes us just as bad as them?"

"Of course not. I'm saying that why we hurt monsters could make us just as bad as them. The reasons we do things can reflect who we are. There's no such thing as doing something in isolation, Holden. How you do anything, is how you do everything. If you hurt those who wish to hurt you for your own pleasure, even if they're bad people, your reasoning for your actions is that you like to hurt others. And that reasoning won't stop at just those types of interactions. You'll hurt good people too. Whether because you've grown to accept inflicting pain as normal, or because you'll rationalize your horrible actions against good people by convincing yourself they were bad and deserved it. I'm not asking you to be the bigger man for the sake of monsters. I'm asking you to be the bigger man for the sake of yourself and those you love."

"I think I get it. It's just hard, you know, to not cheer when the bad guy gets defeated. When the hero wins in the movies and comics, it feels good. Is that wrong? Everyone likes when the bad guy goes down once and for all."

"Everyone likes when the good guy wins once and for all. Everyone likes when their resolve and courage ensures that they can protect themselves, their loved ones, and their ideals. It's natural to cheer for the downfall of those we hate. And yes, there are those we will hate, it's inevitable. So long as we try to keep our heads up, and so long as we refuse to be overcome with vitriol even for our enemies, we will not be reduced to monsters."

"So to be a man, all I gotta do is beat up monsters to protect people, and to not feel too good about it right?" The child questioned, looking back to the stars once more. With a chuckle, the father too gazed upon the stratosphere.

"You'll get it, in time. For now, I just want you to try and do what's right. That's all I ask. I want you to be a better man than me. I'm not perfect, sometimes I feel good about people I dislike facing misfortune. Many times, I act on my emotions, act without reason. We're only human after all, it's bound to happen. I just want you to know that our ability to recognize our flaws and attempt to better ourselves is what makes us distinct from monsters..."

The two dipped back into quiet again. After a few moments, Holden reached out and gripped his father's hand with his own, firmly holding it. In and out he breathed, closing his eyes and letting his body loosen as he listened to the surrounding nature.

"Have you ever faced down a monster, dad?"

"I have. Several times. Why?"

"What did the scariest one look like? Was it big? Did it have a lot of arms? Black eyes... huge pointy teeth?"

"No, son..."

"Then fuzzy bat ears and enormous horse legs! And maybe even some of them had nasty, smelly black fur and sharp claws?"

"Not at all..."

"Then what...?"

"The scariest monsters I've ever seen looked like people. Looked like you and me. Humans. The ones that aren't able to be picked out of a crowd so easily. The ones whose intentions aren't clear, who's motivations aren't so easy to lump together as just "natural evil". They're the ones who will go to such despicable lengths, that even hearing about the things they do can paralyze you. And many times, they aren't the ones you can just punch away, or be brave against and pray that your courage will prevail. They're the ones that even I'm afraid of.``

"You, afraid of a monster? But you're a man... we're men. We aren't supposed to be scared of monsters."

"We're not scared of them because we're personally afraid of how they'll hurt us. We're fearful because those monsters know that we're strong, and they'll go to any lengths to find our weaknesses. And when they realize that we lack weaknesses, they'll create them for us. Hurt our loved ones, make us paranoid, force us to concede leverage."

"Then... how do you defeat those kinds of monsters?"

"You don't let them break you. You fight them tooth and nail, no matter what. Make it your duty to stand against them, regardless of what Hell they put you through. And when you're on your knees and tired, you get back up anyway, even if it hurts. You do it because if you don't nobody else will. You can't count on anyone to save you, okay? Being comfortable in facing something immense on your own, that's the only way to guarantee that you'll make it through."

"I can do that. I can use my own strength. And even if I go overboard sometimes, I'll kick myself in the leg and try to be better. Oh, and uh... no matter what a human-looking monster puts me through, I won't quit! That's it, right?"

"Holden... I'm not telling you this to prepare you, I'm telling you this so you aren't taken by surprise when something bad happens. Nothing I say will make you ready for when a monster like that appears in your life. You won't find it possible to predict how you'll react when you're put in that situation. But, all the same..." The man gave his son's hand a gentle, caring squeeze. "All the same, I love you, and I believe that you'll find your way. Even when I'm not around, even when nobody is there to tell you what to do or where to go. I know you might not understand yet. You're young, and when I was your age I didn't get it either. But I have faith that you will understand, when you're ready.

Returning his father's gentle squeeze, Holden and his old man remained on that hill for quite some time that night. Although he didn't fully comprehend what his father was saying, the boy knew one thing for sure.

"I love you too, dad. I'll try my best."

(Chapter Ten: A New World)

Laying on a couch with a wet washcloth across his forehead, Holden stretched out his limbs and found it difficult to move. His body ached, and he wanted nothing more than to lazily rest in that position for hours more. Unfortunately for him, the blue-eyed woman had other plans. While she wrapped her hair up into a neat bun, she gazed over towards Holden and smiled.

"Finally awake? You snore, you know." She leaned against the kitchen counter, taking small bites out of a sandwich. Her typical glasses had been alternated out with a pair of shades, and her attire consisted of a black tee shirt, jeans, and platform boots. "They say that snoring is a bad omen, just saying."

"Nobody says that, only you". Holden groaned and sat up after removing the cloth, hanging his head down and looking at the floor. His vision was blurry, an unfocused image painting his brain while he still adjusted to the conscious, waking world. Melony moved the collar of her shirt, making enough room for the surface of her shoulder to be exposed. From it, the skin warped and twitched like jello prior to a second neck and head being constructed, its appearance smaller but otherwise identical to her first head. The two faces grinned in unison before announcing, "Nobody kiddo? We both say it! Now what?!"

"That doesn't count..." Holden grumbled. Pepper, wagging tail and all, galloped towards him and sat by his feet. He reached forward and scratched behind her ears, causing her to pant with delight and lick at his fingertips.

"Yeah, sure, you're the arbiter of what counts right?" Melony allowed the duplicate head to be absorbed back into her body. She meandered over to the kitchen stove and fetched the tea kettle from the front burner, pouring the boiling water into a sizable white cup. Within it were a few portions of cocoa powder and, after giving the mixture several spoon swirls, she delivered the finished product to Holden's hands. The two both resided in a log cabin located off a distant trail in the woods. Several miles from any given public area, the structure was a perfect residence for hybrids. As a hybrid's proximity to cryptids has a tendency to strengthen the presence of said cryptids, the potential for one to manifest in a civilian-occupied area was greatly mitigated given how out of the way the home was.

The cabin itself was small but cozy. A fireplace and flat-screen television were the focal points of the velvet-carpeted living room, which one would pass through before arriving in the quaint dining room. Finally, the kitchen was a standard place to prepare food and drink, and aside from that, two bathrooms, a master bedroom, and a guest bedroom completed the necessary amenities required within a living space.

Sipping the hot beverage, Holden looked to the side as Melony sat next to him. Nudging his shoulder with her hand, she continuously poked at him until he gave in.

"What do you want?" He exhaled, allowing the air to exit his lungs and be released from his body.

"Feel okay enough to talk? I mean, about what happened at the hospital. Did you remember any of that?" Taking a few moments to think her question over, Holden decided to open up.

"Some of it, yeah. Actually, more than I thought I would. I remember feeling so, just, single-minded. Like I had narrowed my focus onto one goal and disregarded all else. I wanted to survive. And the more I felt that way, and the more confident I grew about that want, the more I felt different. After some point, I lost control. My body went on autopilot, acting on its own. I felt like a passenger within my own body. Even if looking out of the window of my eyes was a fuzzy experience, I could understand what was happening..."

"Really now? Kiddo, I want to be honest, I haven't often seen something like this. It isn't impossible for extreme violent intent to overwhelm newly awakened hybrids, but usually that comes with some... caveats. Your actions back there were too coordinated, too purposeful. Real Jekyll and Hyde situation. I think I prefer you as you normally are. Moody as hell, but not trying to rip my head off."

"No shit I'm better off in this state than I am in that one. That much is clear as day." He placed his cup down on the nearby coffee table. Once more rubbing Pepper's head, he took a moment to simply listen to the fireplace ahead, taking in its soothing crackle. "I'm sorry for hurting you."

Melony gave a shrug and kicked her feet up, resting her legs on the table in front of the couch. Holden glanced at her with annoyance and slightly moved his cup in the opposite direction.

"Don't even lose sleep about it, I've been through worse. In fact, I'm glad we had the opportunity to fight, to discover more about your power. Speaking of, if you can remember what went down, do you recall what type of ability you displayed? I have a solid hunch on the functionality of it, but I want your thoughts too, kiddo."

"My thoughts? My thoughts are... that somehow, some way, I can make things my own. Or more specifically, take ahold of an object or energy source and add parts of it to myself. God, it's hard to explain, I have difficulty wrapping my brain around it myself. I just know that it felt as if the environment itself were... merging with me?"

"I have similar thoughts, dude. For instance, after you'd made contact with that knife you threw at me, your punches transformed from a blunt-force attack into a piercing one. Not only that, but you seem to have absorbed the aspect of metal the knife contained too. When we were both in the open field together, it just so happened that a bolt of lightning came our way. Now that wasn't just any old coincidence, was it?" She raised an eyebrow and jumped up from the couch. Leaping onto the table and facing Holden, she pointed down at him with her index finger and shouted with giddy excitement. "You summoned that lightning yourself! By taking in and enhancing the property of metal in an open area, you turned yourself into a human lightning rod in an attempt to fry me up. Admit it, I'm right!"

She was now dancing on the table, swaying back and forth and swinging her arms to the tune of whatever imagined melody occupied her head. Holden, who wasn't particularly impressed, pulled Pepper onto his lap and let her nuzzle into his chest. "Yeah, maybe. Though I didn't choose to do it. It just sorta... happened."

Suddenly springing upward, Melony glued her feet to the ceiling and hung upside down like a bat. She placed her hand on her chin and observed Holden carefully, only to then smile and give him a noogie which he promptly swatted away.

"Yeah, it did happen, and it was incredible. You looked so cool even if I did beat your ass! No hard feelings about that by the way, you started it. Or... you kinda started it? Your body started it? Meh, it wasn't started by me, and we'll leave it at that. I'm proud of ya, going into a new situation and dealing with it. Not everyday someone is brave enough to put their life on the line like you did, though I never would've let shit really hit the fan."

"My arms got destroyed before I put that doll fuck to rest. Don't you think that constitutes shit hitting the fan?"

"I was gonna step in at that point... but then I felt it, your aura of intent unleashing. Do you want to know what triumphs all in this world? It's mindset. And when it was all but confirmed that the little switch in your brain flicked on, well, I just knew my faith in you was well placed. I'm sorry I put you through that, ok? I get it if you're not cool with it. But I wouldn't have cut you loose if I didn't think you'd get through it. And in fairness, I think you were aware of what you were getting yourself into."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. Yeah, I understood what I was doing and why, so it would be hypocritical as hell to hate you or something. By the way, why did my arms return to normal after the fact? I didn't feel like I did anything to cause that."

"Well, the game ended, you won. You could say that your arms were cards that were put on the table and then confiscated by the other player. But with your total victory, you claimed all the cards for yourself."

"Right… Sure then."

"Hey Kiddo?"

"Hm?"

"Good job out there, for real."

"...Thanks."

Melony, still perched on the ceiling, placed a hand on Holden's arm. She took a moment to study its surface before grinning and patting his head, once more causing him to swat her hand away.

"Your arm, kiddo... it feels strange. It looks normal, but the texture... it's different. More moist, more leathery. And its temperature is also hot to the touch. Don't tell me..."

"Yeah... I'm practicing with my ability. I transferred the warmth and feel of the rag into myself and to my arm. Though, I can only maintain it for a short time period. I don't even fully get how I'm doing it, all I know is that it feels... right. When I achieve that right feeling, and I pursue it, that's all I'm doing."

"Well, that was the point. Your body is quick to develop muscle memory for natural processes. To breathe, for example, is something even a child can do without thinking about it. Even still, the default of breathing can be expanded upon. Although we may automatically do it, the way we can do it can be consciously improved to a higher level. You may not be able to tap into this power consistently or potently, but now that you can do it at all, you'll reach new levels of ability with time. All ya gotta do is take control of that right feeling, make it your own, make it as much a part of you as the hair on your head!"

Melony finally peeled away from the ceiling and slithered back next to Holden, extending her hand to rub Pepper's back. The poor pup, now at the mercy of two helpings of affection, whimpered softly and rolled over, exposing her stomach while resting her head on Holden's lap. As her belly was granted that same showcase of love, her four paws danced and swiped at the air with joy.

"So long as you pay me to come along with you, I'll agree to it. Now that I know there's more to me, and more to my family, I can't just ignore that. I want to get involved, to grow further. It's settled then, isn't it? If you're the key to unlock this side of my world, I'll allow you to be that key, as bat shit crazy as you are."

"Look, kiddo... I won't lie to you. I know you've already come so far that you may think it's too late to turn back. But this isn't a decision you should make lightly. There are so many horrific things you could run into, so many dangers you could face. I get that you wanna learn about your folks and yourself, and trust me, I do understand that. I also wished to understand myself when I was young, perhaps more than you could imagine. Let's just say... for a while, grasping my true self was a task I thought impossible."

"Well, how did you grasp that?" Holden questioned. In response, Melony tilted her head back as if remembering something, a small yet somewhat sorrowful smile creeping upon her face.

"I had someone... special… help me figure it out. Someone I could count on to have my back and always believe in me. It was thanks to them, thanks to them never giving up on me... That's a story for a different day, though!"

Holden nodded and took a final sip of his cocoa before placing the cup back down on the table. He delicately removed Pepper from his lap and handed her to Melony, who took the pup in with open arms. Standing up and facing the fireplace, feeling its heat on his body, Holden stood strong and resolute as he spoke.

"Then I'll grasp it too."

"Well, consider yourself the newest recruit of my faction, kiddo! We're called, get this... Melony's Supa Dupa's! Cus all my members are super duper to me!"

Looking back over his shoulder, Holden's eye twitched while he glared at Melony, not even needing to talk for his mind to be spoken. All the same, he eventually shrugged his shoulders and released a gentle sigh, accepting the sheer stupidity of the name that would represent him.

"You said before that there were other factions... other's that are considered to be major ones. What are they? Are you on good terms with them?"

A brief display of disgust played across Melony's expression as her lip twitched and eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. "No... we're not on good terms at all. The other three major factions are less like a close group of people and more like a facilitator of depravity."

"And... what are they?"

"Well, there's the Stitch-Face Crew. They're a faction who despises humanity and hybrids alike, hunting them down to create gruesome displays of violence and death as some sort of twisted, artistic message to the world. Then there's the Children of Kol Tamish. They're all about resurrecting their God or whatever, one who is believed to have existed millennia ago. They say the God in question was a hybrid of such power and cruelty that he and the cryptids of his era ravaged the Earth unopposed. Then there's..." She paused, a flash of contempt in her eyes following her hesitation. "There's The Editor's group. He's responsible for producing some of the most despicable operations imaginable. Hybrid trafficking, producing and distributing entertainment magazines based around the murders and tortures his associates commit... Some people have reasons for what they do. Other's only have distasteful pleasures..."

"Jesus... have you thought about putting an end to all of that? I mean, could you?"

"I could, and trust me when I say I want to... but it isn't that simple. They don't exactly operate in the broad daylight, kiddo. Usually my crew and I just stumble upon their deeds after they're done. Sometimes we find the culprit, and sometimes they even talk and give us some info. But... it almost never amounts to anything."

"Makes sense. I suppose I'm fortunate that this is the crew I'm joining. Though, there's still something I don't understand. What are you in it for? I get that you want to help, but why?"

"Because I'm Melony Harper, and that's what the best do. There's nothing better in this world than knowing yourself. Everyone should get to experience that comfort, that belief. It's just that simple. So, are you ready to know yourself? Who's the real Holden Cauthwell? Who is kiddo... behind the mask?!" She kneeled over and rested her chin on her hand, striking the classic thinker position. Rolling his eyes, Holden couldn't help but crack a small smile.

"You look ridiculous... Yes, I'm ready, just chill out ok?"

"Alright!" Standing up from her position, Melony put out her fist expectantly. Although ignoring her at first, Holden finally gave her the fist bump she desired, much to her amusement.

"I hereby announce to the world that you, kiddo, have been knighted as of this moment! You now stand as one of my supa dupa crew members, which is totally the coolest thing anyone could be by the way. Like, ever."

"Yeah, cool. Can I get some more rest now? We can have some useless celebration ceremony later, but I'm still tired."

While Holden laid back down on the couch, Melony gave a thumbs up and made her way to the front door. Stepping outside and standing on the patio, she leaned over the wooden railing and gazed upon the bright blue sky and the clouds that occupied it. The start of a new adventure, the introduction of yet another newly awakened hybrid to a brand new world. All the countless possibilities flooded her mind, yet a single clarifying thought was all that remained when the dust settled.

"Man... I can't wait to introduce him to Jackson and Natty."

(Character Extras One)

"Hurts, doesn't it? That burning sensation, that feeling like you're going to die. It makes you feel alive, that torture is proof that you're real, that you're breathing. That's the cruelty of it. To make you reach that peak, only for the coin to flip and remind you that your end is near. You're a nasty bastard, you know that?"

Holden Cauthwell, a seventeen year old male standing at a height of Five feet, ten inches tall. A somewhat introverted character, he makes up for his lack of talk with his attitude and actions. Somewhat disillusioned with the world, he's learned to accept reality in such a way that grants him nigh-unparalleled clarity.

Ability Name: Unknown

Description: The supernatural ability he possesses allows him to absorb the properties of objects he touches, making them a part of himself. When pushed into high-stress/emotional situations, he tends to dip into a strange state in which his body acts on his own. This state seems to be preceded by flickering lights. Although these abilities seem clear, it still doesn't account for his ability to seemingly heal himself and others. Perhaps there's more to him and his power than he realizes.

---

"What's the point, right kiddo? What's the point in manipulating the body... without understanding what the body is, fundamentally? Enhancements, alterations, restructuring, you don't need to get what the essence of the body is to do that. Only when you expand your mind, only when you think outside of the box, can you truly understand. Understand that the body is a web of systems, and each strand of that web is intricately tied to another. Ordering it, guiding it, maintaining it. The body is a machine. A computer. A program. A series of codes and mechanisms... Do you understand?"

Her name is Melony Harper, but you can just call her the best! This Six Foot, Two Inch cryptid hunter certainly wouldn't mind that. Sometimes those around her wish she would just shut up, but that doesn't mean she will. She's been hunting monsters and annoying people for years, and there's nothing else she'd rather do. Even still, when it's time to get serious, be it a fight or helping someone in a critical moment, there's hardly anyone better suited for the task.

Ability Name: Self Subjugation

Description: The supernatural ability to dictate the composition of the body on a molecular level. The applications of this are nearly endless. Alchemy, regeneration, limb growth. Enhancements of the body to increase its physical power. Even modifications to the brain and eyes to grant the user unrivaled perception of the environment and the events within it. All that withstanding, perhaps its most deadly usage is to program the body and its parts like a computer, enabling it to act in various ways in various situations regardless of the user's manual activation.

---

"The best players in a game are the ones who shift the odds in their favor prior to the game commencing. Is it cheating? Maybe. But I won't deny its efficacy. In a game where the seeker faces almost impossible odds, what role should you play if you want the best chance at winning? The hider, right? Nah... not the hider. You'd still choose to be the seeker."

The Doll Cryptid is an intelligent, malicious foe which relies on trickery to defeat its victims. Its many body parts stick together the form an immense body, granting it an eerie gate as it glides along the walls, floors, and ceilings. By engaging in a ritualistic game of hide and seek, the Cryptid imposes universal rules which prevent it or its target from being harmed until each round is finished. It often lies about its true role in these games so as to disorient the victim. In exchange for its deceit, it must provide an equally disadvantageous rule to be administered to the game. Although the Doll must defeat its prey several times before the game ends, the Doll must only be defeated once for the opportunity of victory to present itself to the victim. Upon losing a round, the victims skin is peeled away and replaced with Doll-Material. Whenever the Doll loses a round, its Doll-Surface is replaced with human flesh, and is made extra vulnerable.

---

"Despite not being able to process what was happening, the truth of the matter was simple. Many strands of seaweed had been extended from within the thing's throat, whipping around at blinding speeds, carving apart anything they came into contact with. Their quickness and power made the claw strikes the creature delivered earlier seem slow and impotent by comparison. For what felt like an eternity, the onslaught continued. Tables, chairs, walls, and windows, nothing was spared from complete annihilation as every object became diced and split apart. Everything except the singular couch Holden had thrown himself behind."

The Seaweed Cryptid is a largely instinctual predator which attacks its enemies at imagination-shattering speeds, its weapons of choice being its claws or the razor-sharp seaweed it can spew from its mouth. Although not exceptionally durable, its strong offensive compensates for that weakness and more. This Cryptid prefers to disarm its prey with its claws, rendering them helpless so that it may drag them into the murky depths contained within the television it originates from. From there, it will proceed to violently force its eggs into every orifice of the victim after ensnaring them in endless ropes of seaweed. As these eggs deliver her offspring, they will gnaw on the still-living victim's body from the inside out, using their fleshy host as sustenance until they eventually burst out of the prey's body.

---

"Once the pup had devoured half of the sandwich, Holden meticulously reached forward, letting his fingers brush through its head and scratch behind its ears. As he confirmed its lack of aggression, he carefully picked the dog up and held it closely against his chest with one hand while retrieving the umbrella and holding it above them both using the other. Entering the complex, and then his apartment, he placed the still-shivering dog down on his bed, bundling it in blankets and sheets alike. For hours he spectated his new guest, watching until it finally stopped shivering and drifted off into sleep."

Pepper is a dog, and nothing more. There is little else to be said about her other than her pleasant attitude and tendency to nap.