We, Cryptids Volume Two

Author's note: The following is the second 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. Understanding this part will likely require reading volume one, so feel free to do so if you like!

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(Chapter Eleven: Open Up To Me)

Somewhere, the sun does not shine. In these places, the light is unavailable to expose the underbelly of the world, where filth and rot seem almost clean by comparison. The air of such an establishment is suffocating, such that one might inject a straw into their throat just to taste the sweetness of oxygen once more. It's raw. It's gross. Yet to some...

It's what they call home.

In this place where the sun does not shine, a circle was formed. This sphere comprised dozens of "men, in a sense. Some taller, some shorter. Some thinner, some fatter. All breathed uncomfortably, their sounds barely audible. Of what could be heard, though, it would be appropriate to remark that the sound was guttural and scratchy. Lungs strained beyond belief like they were perennial smokers, these men coughed and heaved like the diseased abnormalities they were. The suits they wore served as little more than a slight masking of their nature. Their face, or lack thereof, was the first thing you would notice. No ears, no nose, no mouth or eyes. Their gurgles and wheezes were confined to the inside of their throats, not allowed the mercy of exit through an orifice.

Next, your attention would be grabbed by the stitches and threads littering their bodies in the hundreds. All designed to hold together the messily woven-together folds of skin. Skin that differed in color, texture, and level of decay, all tacked onto each body. These were the trademark features of the abominations which circulated the nigh-empty space that defined the sphere's center. In that very center were three men, two standing and one kneeling on the floor. The kneeling one found himself battered and bruised, his eyes swollen and his nose broken. He was bald and middle aged, as well as borderline naked. Only his underwear offered him cover, allowing all to gaze upon the pathetic, cut up flesh he possessed. His eyes watered and he bit his lip with his few remaining teeth, struggling to look up and face either man next to him. A solid steel chain wrapped around his throat, and had it been tighter he would have suffocated long ago.

That very chain led up to the gloved hands of a tall man. His body was protected with thick boots, sturdy camouflage pants, and a black kevlar vest strapped across his chest. With a facial region that displayed rough patches of chin hair and a displeased scowl, he clearly wasn't a man known for his charm. While he remained silent and still, and while the abused man stayed frightful, it was the third man who spoke up instead.

"So I see you've brought him to me, just as I asked. This is very pleasant."

He, whose voice was muffled as a result of the dirty, gray bandages cloaking his face like a mummy, spoke with a gruff tone. His movements and general appearance were largely concealed, a large leather coat covering him. He too had gloved his hands, although he slowly reached toward the glove's bottom so as to begin removing it. Though the vested man remained silent, his victim finally glanced upward and started to beg.

"Y... you're... please don't. It wasn't my fault! I was just following orders, I swear. They... They contacted me, offered me so much money. I just wanted to feed my family. Please, I'll give you anything. You want a cut of the pay? Do you want information? I can give you that. I can... I promise I can be useful!"

Despite his pleading, it did not stop the bandage-wrapped man from proceeding. He pulled his gloves off, revealing his hands. Stitches had been etched into his flesh, pulling together a variety of different flesh-flaps much like the stitches of the various creatures surrounding them.

"Useful to me," the bandaged man inquired. "Provide me money? Of what purpose is money to us? What is it that money can buy that will satisfy us? And what of information, too? Do you doubt my competency? Do you claim someone like me couldn't figure things out on my own? How do you think I found you and your little operation in the first place?"

The beaten man coughed blood upon the cold concrete floor, panting with exhaustion and terror. He bowed his head down, grasping at any possibility for mercy.

"N-No, I wasn't implying that at all! I know you're capable, I know you are. I just want to help. I can do that, I know so. Please, listen to me! I'll be your tool, your instrument. I'll do whatever you need of me-"

The man paused, for he felt a finger placed upon the underside of his chin. The finger was cold and prickly, and applied an uncomfortable pressure underneath his lower jaw.

"You people always give the same excuses. You were only trying to care for your people, only trying to make ends meet. That's always it, is it not? Your people come first, your people must prevail, even at the expense of mine. I suppose I wouldn't blame you for that. For operating within the world's machinations. But then, my dear friend, I would expect you to understand when I exemplify those very same principles. Maybe once, I would have asked how much that man paid you to do what you did. To hurt them, to kill them, to sell them. I would have tried to find reason in the madness. But... I've come to accept the Editor's cruelty as being natural, as natural as the cruelty of this world and all its occupants."

The man traced his finger up the broken man's chin and up his face. The nail glided along his lips and nose before arriving at his forehead. In its wake, it left a stitch trail. One that followed behind the finger's direction perfectly.

"But at least that man is honest. He won't deny that he delights in it, takes pleasure in his actions. You, though, you're just like the rest. You never release your true feelings, but that doesn't mean they're purely hidden. I can always see them. The contempt behind your eyes, the disgust in your voice. How you look down on me and my brothers and sisters. Sometimes it's little things. The attitude of your people when interacting with us, or perhaps your lack of desire to interact with us at all. But when you get the chance, and a little bit of power and confidence, your disregard truly reveals itself. When you slaughter us, trade us, all because it puts bread on the table, as you put it. Yet here you are, vehemently denying it. It's so depressing."

He stepped back, facing the quivering, petrified man. The stitches which vertically aligned his face disrupted the movements of his mouth, and he didn't dare speak further lest he risk tearing his lips apart.

"I'm going to kill that man one day, no doubt. For what he did to me, for what he did to us. Don't delude yourself into believing I would respect transparency. Transparency only makes a pill easier to swallow. It doesn't make that pill any less poisonous. So, please... if you're going to be a venom to this world, at least be more easily digestible. What I'm asking of you is very simple."

The man pulled at his bandages, loosening them and removing them from his face to reveal what was underneath. As the broken man gazed upon the visage of he who stood above him, his face went pale and his trembling only intensified.

"All that I'm asking of you... is to open up to me."

He positioned his hands in the air, his palms touching each other. Then, he began to push his hands apart, dividing them from one another. As he did, the man on the floor began to scream, and scream, and scream. The stitches that were summoned upon his face also began to separate. Within moments, his entire head was pulled apart and mirrored the appearance of an opened cantaloupe. His skull had also split, and the pink brain-matter slid out and collapsed to the floor in a wet, slimy pile. With a display of gore analogous to that of sewage spill, the man reapplied the bandages over his face and sighed.

"No matter how many times I do it, it never gets old. Bastard had to drag himself into this business. All for the sake of his family, so he says. I hope it was worth it to him. His poor wife and child, what a shame it will be that they'll receive the same fate. I suppose there is such a thing as the sins of the father, after all."

Shifting his gaze towards one of the suited monstrosities behind him, he signaled it to approach, and so it did. Holding a briefcase, the suited creature forfeited it to the bandaged man, who in turn tossed it towards the vested man. Catching it, the vested man peered inside and was greeted with an abundance of money. Once more, the bandaged man spoke.

"They're right about you, you get things done. You have my gratitude for bringing him here in one piece. I'll be repurposing his skin, just like all the others. Now, I think you know what I want from you going forward, yes? These scum think they can do what they want with us. With my people. Correct them. Bring the ringleaders to me, they will be the strong-bodied and useful ones. Slaughter the rest as usual. You do that for me, and you'll have all the money and hunting supplies you could ever desire."

There was no vocal response, only a silent acknowledgment as the vested man turned and walked away. As his footsteps faded into the distance, the bandaged man picked up the remains of the newly deceased guest and advanced in the opposite direction, his suited beasts following behind him. Approaching a large metal door, he opened it and stepped through, entering a spacious room. The floor and walls of the place were iron and rusted. The purpose of the area was a simple one. Containment, and collection. In the center was a pile. Hundreds upon hundreds of roughly stitched together flesh creatures, squirming and writhing like maggots as they feast and breed.

What's more, on the far right side of the room, the wall hosted several dead bodies, each in various states of ruin. Some corpses missed their legs, others had chunks of their torso or arms removed, all depending on what fate the stitches dictated for them.

Setting the corpse down, the bandaged man inspected his victim and pondered for a while. As he did so, he wandered over to the right side wall, inspecting the bodies. Finally settling upon the one he liked most, he removed one corpse, the remains of a woman, and took her with him. Getting to work, he began carefully tracing his finger along the perimeter of her face, once more manifesting a trail of stitches. Then, he gently slipped his nails underneath the thread, peeling the face off with utmost care. With it now in his grasp, he delved into his craft, compounding the freshly removed face with the broken folds of his male victim's head.

With gentle care, he scooped up his new creation and carried it to the pile, placing it down into the twitching mass.

"There... I've fixed you. Delivered you from cruelty, changed you from that monstrous form you once had. Now you belong somewhere better. With me. With my people. Please, enjoy this feeling, savor it. I've remade you, there's no more room for hate in your heart. And I won't stop at you. The world will feel the reverberations of our actions. They will, and so will that man. And when they do, and he does as well, things will be right again. Oh so right... and we'll thrive, my friends. All of us."

With a soft groan, he and his entourage exited the room. Closing the door behind them, a dark shadow was cast upon the monstrous pile, obscuring it once more. In his mind, his desired reality would come to pass. All that would be required of him was patience. The patience to allow The Hunter to proceed with his mission, to bring him what he desired. Until then, he could simply sit back and wait. Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely true. There was one thing he could do, if only to pass a little time. As the sun sank beneath the horizon and the world greeted the moon and stars, he found himself on a lonely suburban street. In front of him was a house, and the silhouette of two people inside. One larger feminine figure, and a smaller figure too. As both undoubtedly awaited their loved one's return, the man approached the front door and placed his hand upon the knob.

Although he would despise the unpleasant screaming that would ensue, at least in the end, he could reunite this family in his pile, all of them fixed, the hatred dispelled from their heart by his hand alone.

(Chapter Twelve: Alone)

Alone, as one should never be.

It was his tenth birthday, of that he was sure. Holden had remembered his excitement the night before, even finding it troublesome to achieve sleep with his mind whirling as it did. Wondering what scent of breakfast he might awake to, wondering what gifts he might be presented. Wondering what new memories he would make as the sun rose and he'd be thrust into his second decade of existence. That was not where he found himself, though. No, he didn't find himself there at all. Nor did he wake up within the comforting confines of his bed, or in his room for that matter. November 27th was a cold, cold day.

Cold enough for his breath to formulate into a frosty mist. Cold enough for the ground underneath his fingertips to feel akin to concrete. Cold enough for his body to shiver as he sat up, surrounded by nothing but trees. He looked down, gazing upon his bare feet. Neither his shoes nor socks surrounded him. Fear hadn't even set in, for confusion had pushed its way past terror and briskly walked into Holden's mind. As any lost person does, he began to move. Voice trembling, he called out for his father, again and again, growing louder as he ventured onward. Never was he greeted with a response.

"D... Dad? Hello? Where are you, where am I? Hello?"

Nothing. Only the whistling wind embraced Holden in his newly found solitude.

It was true that on Holden's tenth birthday, his father vanished without a trace. The full truth is, however, that they had vanished from each other. As if time had been paused, Holden was transported into some unfamiliar terrain, and he could only assume it was by his father's hand. Who else would have taken him? For what purpose would he have been taken here, if not for the sake of abandonment? Such thoughts felt intrusive, but over time, Holden's incredulity towards them diminished.

"What is this... is this a test? This is a test, right Dad? I don't like this, please. Please just take me home, I'm sorry if I did something wrong, I didn't mean to! Please, Dad."

Tears soon stained his face as he continued, eyes red with distress. That morning, a thin veil of fog set in that shrouded the surrounding foliage in mystery and eeriness. Leaves and sticks crunched under his foot, splinters intruding the skin. Holden stumbled over a root and fell under the broad, shadowy shelter of a large oak. He held his foot with trembling arms and gazed upon his damaged soles. Several thin, miniature stakes had pierced him, although they were possibly removable through pinching them between his fingernails. So, he did just that. Closing his eyes and counting down from five, Holden yanked out each splinter, yelping in discomfort with each pull.

With muffled sobs, his fingers dug into the rough Earth and gathered dirt into his palms. Hours passed as he sat under that tree, arms wrapped around himself, gripping the folds of his blue pajamas. For the rest of the day, he stayed right there, hoping and praying that this was all a dream he would escape. Then, as time passed and he realized the truth, he begged that he would be found, and that he would soon be back in his father's comforting arms.

Back and forth he rocked, staring at the ground and attempting to maintain a steady breath. When night fell and the crickets began their peaceful harmony, it did little to comfort the young boy. He sank down onto his side, body shivering. Cramming his eyes shut did nothing to grant him the reprieve he so desperately desired. There he stayed in the waking world. Where he had once hoped to wake up, he now wished for anything but. So he remained, energy and hope dwindling as the sun too vanished from the horizon.

Then after hours passed, he got up once more, still alone and cold. He had wasted his birthday, a mark of existence that would never occur again. His tenth year, gone and obsolete like space dust. Now there was only him and the woods, his only warmth the clothes on his back and the blood in his body. Even in his young age, he knew that doing nothing would bring him no fortune. Nor could his misfortune reach even greater depths, according to his mind. His legs shook like strands of straw on a gusty day, yet they carried him forward all the same. On he pushed into the unknown abyss of the forest. From his ceaseless anguish and endless walking, he derived a pattern. March ahead, call for help, and reassure himself. He convinced himself that he'd make it through this, in spite of the growling in his stomach.

He convinced himself he'd find his father again, even as the arms of despair enclosed their fingers around his throat and slowly choked the air out of him. Another day passed, and it felt like no progress had been made aside from the scrapes and cuts Holden received from the various thorns and branches he'd squeeze himself past. Hours upon hours, days upon days went by. His once blue pajamas grew dirty and worn. With every hill he'd approached, he expected to see civilization up ahead. Not once did this wish materialize. The monotonous greenery continued as far as the eye could see. Holden's feet now bled, not that it mattered. He was so cold, so exhausted, he couldn't feel them. His limbs were ghostly, moving without thought, moving without sensation.

As days turned to weeks, he had been forced to eat scraps of berries and nuts he'd found along his searches. When it rained and puddles formed, he'd cup his hands and gather water in his palms, slurping the filthy, murky substance down his throat with dissatisfaction. For that water was all he had, since his tears had long since ceased. He had no more of them to shed. His pale little face grew solemn and sunken, and soon that form was one he grew accustomed to.

It hurt, as it of course would. As it turned out, this would not be the last and only time Holden and Death locked hands and danced together. His later encounters with the Cryptids he would discover were treacherous, most definitely. They also brought him near the end, and as they had been experiences he endured in his older, more mature vessel, his heart responded differently. Later, he would go on to long for survival, and to understand himself, propelled by recognition of his mortality.

Yet he as a mere child could not enter that mindset. His chest throbbed, raw melancholy in liquid form dripping from his heart. A palpable hopelessness, one that could not be mirrored by a newfound drive or purpose. One that stood on its own, not paralleled by a sense of self preservation. Some pain does not teach lessons, for sometimes men are not capable of yet being taught. Why did he go on living? Why does anything go on living? Just because, for living's sake. There was no beauty to be found in the forest, or life for that matter.

The world had become no more than one large casket, a tomb which Holden might or might not have been enclosed in. Whether he lived or died was purely incidental. Whether he feared or not, was of no relevance. Fear is not drive. Fear is fear. Eventually, that fear melts away into emptiness. A great void that comes after the hollowing of one who has lost the words or thoughts to properly express their current state. The wind stung at his face like hateful wasps. The ground bit at his feet like venomous snakes. The sky and the sun beamed into his eyes with unmatched harshness. He was as much a part of nature now as anything, be it a rotting log or a blossoming flower. Who cared about whether he should or should not survive? When we reduce to dust and become of Earth, such a thing loses its meaning. So, what did he do? What did he do with the knowledge that he and his misery were as cared for by the world as the ants he crushed while blazing his trail?

He walked, evermore. Walked, slept, ate and drank when the opportunity presented itself. No longer did his mind race, for his thoughts had been evicted and replaced with a droning buzz day in, and day out. On the Fifty-Fifth day, a little chirp rang behind his ear that awoke him from his slumber. He turned his head and, to his surprise, there was a squirrel on his shoulder, its bushy tail wrapped snugly around the back of Holden's head. He hesitantly reached over and touched it, feeling its soft fur and tracing his fingers along its body. Something living, something warm, a new constant among the madness. On day Sixty-Seven, Holden and his squirrel arrived at the mouth of a small cave during a rainstorm. He and it took shelter under the rocky surface. Holden leaned against the wall, looking down upon his bloody, blistered hands. Dirt caked his face and arms and chest like a second layer of skin. He had long since left his pajamas behind, now stripped down to his underwear to evade onset hypothermia. Thinning would not even begin to describe the process his body underwent. A shell of his former self, Holden gazed ahead with vacant eyes. His squirrel, one he hadn't even bothered naming, chirped and gnawed on some seeds it had retrieved some time prior.

Holden's sloppy hair only offered a slight cushion against the cold, stone surface he had entered. In he breathed, and out that breath went. It was all he could do. His stomach was borderline empty, the roaring within it begging for satiation. For something to bring even the slightest of warmth and energy to his body.

His squirrel approached, resting beside him. Its tail sat still against his fingers, and he soothingly traced them along its body. Up its back and towards its head, he lightly tapped his fingertips against its fur. The contact, perhaps, was all that staved away the demon of insanity that clawed and scraped against the walls of his mind, demanding entry. The squirrel's chirps grew softer as its heartbeat slowed, its eyes closing as sleep approached. It knew not of Holden's dire situation, yet for the life of him Holden could not understand why it chose to stick with him. He knew for sure that it was no act of grace, nor an act of pity. Such a thing would imply that nature has an aspect of benevolence, and that could not be further from the truth.

Up and down, Holden's skinny chest rose and fell. He coughed sporadically, hacking out mucus and spittle as his sickness wore him down. After all, one cannot be exposed to the elements without being weathered by colds and disease. His stomach grumbled again and again, never stopping. He closed his eyes, and his stomach growled. He covered his ears, and his stomach growled. He scraped his bloodied hands against his skull, and his stomach growled.

Oh, the hunger... a torture so great, that for the first time in many moons, Holden spoke.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm so hungry. It hurts, I'm sorry..."

His once gentle fingers slowly closed around the squirrel's body. Once more it awoke, its soft chirps accompanied by the cocking of its head as it looked up at Holden in confusion.

"I didn't ask for this... this isn't my fault."

He carefully brought the squirrel closer. He looked into its eyes, into its soul. Witnessed its lack of understanding, its innocence. If he had tears left to shed, perhaps he would have. It was too late for that now. The time for self pity had long since departed.

"Nobody... nobody is out there looking for me, is there? Nobody is going to save me. Not even you..."

He closed his eyes and bit down, praying that it would be over quickly. As the chirps reverted into screams and the head of his squirrel thrashed violently in his mouth, Holden's eyes remained empty and lifeless. It wasn't enough, he had hesitated. Again and again he crunched down, not stopping even after the warm liquid began pouring into his mouth. With haste he removed the squirrel and fell to his hands and knees, hacking and heaving. No vomit could escape his lips, for there was nothing in his stomach. All that he managed to puke was air and bloody fur. It wasn't much, but Holden found satiation that night.

Day eighty-three, Holden could no longer move. His body collapsed and he lost track of time. Up the sun came, and down it went. He had not moved from that cave, for the onslaught of rain had continued still, and leaving meant death.

Though maybe, that wouldn't have been such an awful fate.

Day eighty-six came, and with them arrived footprints. Holden's eyes flickered upward, and even that movement proved difficult. Up above him was a man, tall in stature. He looked out of place, being dressed in a fashionable black suit and wearing a matching fedora. Leaning down, he positioned his face near Holden's.

His eyes were cloudy and gray, and his left eye in particular had a long, streaking scar that ran from the eyebrow to the cheek. The man smiled, showcasing his pristine white teeth. He began speaking, but Holden couldn't quite process what he'd said in full. All he remembered with clarity was the strange man mentioning that he'd "made it as expected", and that his "results" were of "interest". Beyond that, all Holden could recall was blacking out and subsequently waking up in his bed at home. He didn't even attempt to delude himself into believing everything he'd experienced was a nightmare. He was still dirty and bruised, and that was enough proof that what he went through was very real.

The house was devoid of life, of course, and his father never did return. Holden washed himself and ate what he could. After several days of rest, he knew that he was on his own, and nothing could change that. Since then, he'd sometimes wondered how he managed to escape the forest that day. He'd at first speculated that the man he saw was in his mind, but that couldn't explain how he somehow ended up back at his home. Endless speculation, however, would not ensure his safety and security. From that day on, he knew what he'd have to do, for his own sake. Be this the product of his father's test, or some sick, twisted fate the universe had in store for him, he deemed it immaterial.

What happened, happened, it was as simple as that.

Years later, as he pondered over the previous events in his life, Holden thought of where he'd found himself now. In a new world, having met new creatures and, of course, Melony Harper. He groaned as he realized just what he was walking into. How he smiled for her, how he trusted that she wouldn't lead him astray. It was a feeling that sickened his stomach. A feeling that betrayed what he knew to be true in his heart of hearts. It was something he'd long since considered casting aside, yet here it was, floating up towards the surface against his will. It was nauseating.

"Don't think you're not on your own anymore," Holden murmured to himself. He closed his eyes and clenched his fist tightly, trying to calm his nerves. "Don't let yourself fall into that delusion, not again."

(Chapter Thirteen: The Freshly Awakened)

"You said we were going on a trip." Holden blinked and turned to face Melony, who was busy fiddling with a stick of gum before popping it into her mouth. He and his little companion Pepper (Who was once more strapped to his chest) raised their eyebrows in unison, expecting an explanation.

"We did go on a trip. A trip from the living room to the bathroom. Legs hurtin' yet?" She blew an abnormally large bubble considering she'd only been chewing on a single stick. Its size nearly rivaled that of Holden's head.

Melony placed a candle down on the bathroom sink. She stuck out her tongue and flicked her finger against it, causing a spark that initiated a gentle, warm glow on her nail. Using it to ignite the candle, Melony ensured the lights were turned off and faced the mirror.

Noticing Holden's puzzled gaze, she shrugged her shoulders and grinned. "What's the matter, it's just flammable saliva. Don't be jealous. This is where the real trip begins. We're gonna use the mirror like a portal. You'd better take some gum, here." She waved around a stick of gum in Holden's face, asking him to take it.

"Uh... Thanks. Wait, I'd better take it? What's it meant to do? Is it magic gum? Don't tell me it's magic gum."

"No, no, it's regular old gum. Magically delicious, maybe. Y'know how when you're on a flight and the plane takes off, your ears pop and it's annoying as all Hell? Something similar can happen with mirror travel, so it's good to have something to chew on."

Holden snatched the gum from her hand and slid it into his mouth, chewing it with disgust. The taste of the bubblegum was overbearing, and he would have much preferred something mintier. Nonetheless, he cooperated and faced the mirror alongside Melony, admittedly curious to know how they would proceed from that point.

"Now, here's what you're gonna wanna do kiddo. This is another one of those ritual things, and you'd best follow the instructions exactly. If you hesitate, if you falter, you'll be met with a fate worse than death." Her eyes and face had their color drained, turning a deathly pale as if her mind raced with thoughts most treacherous.

"A fate worse than death...? You don't seriously mean to tell me," Holden began, a brief display of concern flashing across his face.

"Mhm, that's right. If you mess up the ritual, you'll have an unimaginably horrific fate bestowed upon you," Melony responded, covering her mouth with a now trembling hand. "The ritual will fail, and there'll be a cooldown. You'll have to wait a whole ten minutes before attempting it again. Travel delays, the absolute worst of the worst."

Holden had only heard half of that speech, having tuned her out as soon as he realized she was, once again, not being serious. Instead, he focused on the gum between his teeth

"So we have to hop through a mirror to arrive at our destination, a process that could make our ears pop like hell. So what about Pepper? We can't give the dog gum, dumbass."

"Awh, you can't bear the thought of your puppy having her ears upset. What a dog mom you are!" She lowered her face in front of Pepper's and blew right into it. Within moments, Pepper's eyes closed and she drifted to sleep, unconscious.

"What did you just-"

"Anesthetic breath, ya like it kiddo?" Melony questioned him, struggling to finish her sentence given her ceaseless giggling.

"You're such a show-off, you know that," Holden grumbled.

"As if you wouldn't be if you were like me!"

Melony stretched her arms towards the mirror, allowing her fingertips to gently trace along the glass surface. Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper as if she feared breaking the freshly set-in silence.

"Now, it's time. The conditions are met as we stand here in darkness. So, I want you to place your fingers on the mirror as well, and don't worry about smudging it, I'll have you clean it up later. Repeat after me, okay kiddo?"

Holden nodded and followed her instructions, placing his hands on the mirror ahead. Melony began chanting, with Holden following her lead as requested.

"Scary Carrie...Scary Carrie... Scary Carrie..."

For a prolonged moment, there was nothing. Melony smirked and pushed Holden's shoulder gently with her own.

"Don't scream, kiddo."

"Don't scream at what?"

"That."

Looking back, two gray, monstrously large hands emerged from the mirror, gripping Holden and Melony alike by the collar of their shirts. The glass rippled like water as the two were pulled into the mirror with great force, and they found themselves soon drifting into what appeared to be outer space. Although impossible to discern the exact scope of this new plane, the feeling of insignificance set into Holden, as it inevitably does when one is presented with their own cosmic minuteness. Stars, galaxies, planets, this new dimension was ripe with beautiful celestial bodies that littered the space like paint on a canvas. These forms, as grand as they were, began to stretch thin like artistic streaks as Holden and Melony accelerated forward like they were being ripped through the fabric of space by a super-charged vacuum. Whether what he saw was illusionary or not, Holden's face began to morph and liquify as the force he felt pushing against him magnified. He saw Melony beside him, tongue sticking out and dragging along behind her mouth like a dog sticking its head out of a car window. Pepper, however, remained fast asleep even still. Both Pepper and Melony's flesh began to alter much like Holden's, as their skin and bone were transmuted into gelatin.

As they went, the window of space they occupied began to tighten and tighten like a vortex. Whatever notion of shape or form their bodies previously had was rendered little more than a joke, a comedic hush from the past. Color's once not thought possible, now boldly stretched across Holden's vision, even though his eyes felt like they'd become disembodied from his now formless self. There was no pain involved, yet his senses did not diminish. This travel had escorted him into a place of limbo, where the imagination dictated reality, and reality dictated nothing and everything at once. Was Holden even chewing gum anymore? Was there gum to be chewed? Or was it also a mere stretch of mess within the abstraction that was his "mouth"? Whatever the case, whatever philosophical inquiry one had about the essence of gum, the vortex continued to tighten all the same, stretching even further.

Time, if this realm of weirdness or thought, or both, had simultaneously slowed to a standstill and accelerated beyond belief. Within the eternity of a jiffy, the world cracked like glass before giving way and shattering. There was a brilliant white light, and then a hateful darkness, and then there was nothing at all. Out they flopped into a room with blue walls and smooth, wooden floorboards. Before them was a desk, and behind that desk was a woman. Three things occupied her station, those being a house phone, a computer, and a small handheld mirror. She was an average-sized lady who appeared to be in her mid-twenties much like Melony. Medium-length black hair flowed down her head. Her face was rather pale, and she appeared bored, really. Her droopy brown eyes lazily glanced up at the party, who were now standing upright. While Holden fought off his grogginess and prodded around for the now missing gum with his tongue, Melony leaned over the desk and addressed the woman in front of her.

"Top of the morning to you, Carrie. Long time no see!"

Carrie groaned and looked away towards her computer, clicking away at the keyboard with disinterest.

"Welcome back, Melony. I was wondering when my peace and quiet would end."

"There you go, being a joker as usual. You know you missed me, don't lie. Say, can I get your input on something?" Melony chuckled and lifted her shirt, pointing at her stomach. A silver piercing in the shape of a star hovered around her belly button. She gave it a light tap. "You think this fits me well? Yes, no, maybe so? I was super hesitant to get it, debated about it for like, all of five minutes. Real tough choice, y'know?"

Carrie huffed and took her attention off the computer for a moment, analyzing Melony with a piercing glare, and shook her head. "It looks hideous... good grief, you could've at least had the sensibilities to get a moon design instead."

With the snap of her finger, the piercing warped to fit Carrie's description, displaying a crescent moon in place of the star. Carrie grumbled and went back to typing away on her PC.

"Fine, that's better. You want a trophy or something? Now who's the kid?"

Holden stepped forward clumsily and stuck his hand out. "Holden Cauthwell, I'm... uh... with her-" He pointed in the opposite direction of Melony before correcting himself. Carrie's vision wandered towards Melony, eyes narrowing. She didn't bother shaking Holden's hand.

"Was this his first time being dragged through?"

"Yup! But don't worry, I gave him gum. He's cool."

"And the dog?"

"She'll be out for a few more hours."

"Anesthetic Breath?"

"Performed by yours truly."

Holden leaned against the nearby wall to balance himself. He looked out the window and, much to his amazement, saw miles upon miles of water. An ocean of purple extended as far as the eye could see. To his observation, the structure they were in now sat upon a large gray slab of rock. Birds, or so they appeared, flew around in the sky. Upon closer inspection, he realized that they were not like any bird he'd ever seen. They flapped around with short tree branches for wings, and their bodies were more fish-like than anything else.

"Alright, as long as the kid's with you I guess," Carrie spoke up, "I've dragged you all through over to this side, I expect that I can go back to doing nothing. The phone never rings anyway, is it even connected to anything? Well, either way, those two have been waiting for your return, Melony. Go say hello to them, or do you want me to also be a babysitter on top of being your transportation and secretary?"

Melony nudged Carrie's shoulder gently before backing away, shrugging her shoulders. "You offerin?"

"No. I'm not."

"You'd make a good one, though! You're so energetic and joyful, deep down. I see it in your eyes, you little softie."

Carrie wasn't even given time to respond, because the sound of footsteps approached with great speed. In an instant, a girl had run into the room and wrapped her arms around Melony, nearly tackling her to the ground. Melony smiled and embraced her.

"Natty! You gotta relax, my feeble heart can't handle all this love and affection." She gently rubbed the girl's head, holding her closely.

The girl released her after a few moments. Holden eyed her carefully, taking in her features. She looked to be about Holden's age. Though short in stature, standing at about five feet, three inches tall, she was clearly of healthy body. The left half of her face was like that of a typical human's, aside from her ear which sprouted small strands of grass. She possessed gentle green eyes and, strangely enough, light green hair across her entire scalp. On the right half, however, was a strange amalgamation of algae, mushrooms, and flowers. This trend branched down to her right arm as well, which held the consistency of wood. If she had a mouth, it was covered almost holistically by the plant-like substance spread across half her face. As she looked at Melony with her singular visible eye, the flowers and mushrooms on her face slowly blossomed and attained more vibrant colors.

"Who's he?" A new voice emerged from the background. A man stood near the doorway the girl entered from. He was slightly taller than Holden, and a couple years older than him too. A large, diagonal scar ran across the bridge of his nose down to his right cheek. He was massive in build, like he'd never taken a day off from conditioning his body. His blond hair was cut short, and his arms folded while he observed Holden with watchful eyes.

"Jackson, Natty, this is Holden. He's freshly awakened, and exceptionally dangerous. Even I was hard pressed to handle his moody nature." Melony also displayed her statement in sign language, and Natty nodded her head in understanding.

Holden rubbed his eyes and shot Melony a dirty look. Jackson maintained his observing stature, providing a "hmph" from his lips as he gave his attention to the newcomer. Meanwhile, Natty tilted her head and gently waved her hand. Although the flowers on her head lost a little bit of their vitality, they still remained colorful and alive, curious about Holden's presence. She approached him and offered her human hand, which Holden took and shook. Her flowers stirred and brightened slightly in response.

"Uh, nice to meet you both... wait." Holden reached for his phone and typed his message out on the notes app. He showed the screen to Natty, who proceeded to gesture for his phone. Giving it to her, she typed hastily before returning it to him.

"Ah, it is a pleasure to meet you, Holden. Thank you for showing kindness, you seem very nice. I appreciate your efforts. And please note, I am quite skilled at reading lips, so do keep that in mind!"

"Got it, thank you. Uh, Natty right?"

"You can call her Natasha." Jackson spoke in a low, gruff tone in the background. Natty tapped Holden's shoulder, signing to him once she got his attention.

"She said you can call her whatever you're comfy with, kiddo," said Melony.

"And you can call me after my break. I need a nap." Carrie leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. She was out within seconds. With a harsh grunt, Jackson walked forward and stood beside Natty.

"So Melony brought another stray pet back home. Great. You're freshly awakened, huh? Spent all your life being normal, and now you're here. Late bloomers like you are only good for getting in my way, or getting themselves killed. I'm not sure what Melony told you, but here's some advice, rookie. Deny her offer. Turn around, walk away. People like you aren't meant to be here, living this sort of life." Holden clenched his fist, getting right in Jackson's face and he practically spat back his reply.

"Who do you think you are to tell me what to do? You got a problem, guy? I'll do what I damn well please. So what's the issue, you want to take this outside? Want me to punch your jaw out?"

The two stood their ground, hands balled into fists and ready to strike at any moment. Without warning, Melony draped her arm around both their shoulders.

"Kids, kids, stop the fighting! That's no way for teammates to treat each other, now is it?"

"Miss Melony, with all due respect-" Jackson started before being quickly cut off.

"I'm aware how you feel, Jackson. I'll make it up to you sometime. But Holden here, he's got a gift. Much like you do. And you and Natty are prime candidates to help him explore his gift, maybe even better than I can. Ya dig?"

For a while, Jackson remained silent. He opened his mouth to protest, but knew that nothing he'd say would be of use. He simply crossed his arms again and tapped his foot in annoyance, begrudgingly accepting what Melony said.

"Fine, but I won't like it. When this guy gets torn to shreds, don't blame me. It isn't my fault you drag weak scum back here and expect things to go well." Jackson turned and walked out the door, stepping outside onto the rocky ground. Natty gave Holden a reassuring pat on his shoulder, giving him a look that clearly read "I'm sorry about him" before going to check up on Jackson.

"What an asshole," Holden murmured.

"I never said it'd be easy, kiddo. But you knew that, didn't you? You'll get along fine, just give it time. Alright?"

"Sure, I guess we'll see. Don't expect me to hold my tongue, though. I don't just stand there and take shit."

"Sure ya don't. Just have a little patience, try not to get into a bunch of fights. Cleaning blood off the floor is annoying."

"That's your biggest concern? Why am I even surprised."

"Because you're a dummy."

(Chapter Fourteen: Flowers)

The morning after his arrival to the strange place, Holden had hardly found his bearings, but hardly was better than nothing. There he sat on the couch in the living room, a half-empty cup of coffee placed on the table before him. In one hand he held his phone, swiping through a variety of webpages, eyes scanning the information he found. In his focus, the rest of the area fell away from his senses, his attention solely designated to the task at hand.

"Hm?"

Holden turned his head as he felt a tap on his shoulder. The impact was gentle, almost too gentle, like the tapper worried that applying any more pressure would cause Holden to crumble. Nonetheless, his vision fell upon Natty, her curious expression signifying the obvious question that danced in her mind. She looked sleepy, a few eyebags taking residence under her visible eyes. Her green hair was messy, its wild threads quelled slightly by a fresh hair-tie. She had evidently woken just a few moments before.

"I'm just... looking some things up. That's all."

Holden glanced back at his phone screen, his search history a mashup of keywords all intended to figure out one thing; what is he, exactly? He'd been typing away for a while, treating his supernatural showcasings of the past as symptoms one might document to capture their diagnosis. Natty tapped his shoulder once more, hoping to secure his attention again. She gestured for his phone, and he reluctantly handed it to her. Opening the notes app, she typed down a message and displayed the screen to Holden.

"Miss Melony told me some things about you. You're searching, right? Trying to figure out what kind of hybrid you are?"

Remembering her ability to read lips, Holden responded.

"Something like that. But what it is, I'm still not sure. Me and Melony found out a thing or two about me, that I have some sort of ability to absorb things and make them my own, as vague as that sounds. Like this phone, I can uh... do this for example."

A bright light sourced from Holden's right eye shone into the room. He'd pulled the flashlight function from his phone and transmitted it into himself in some form. After a moment he disabled it, allowing his eye to return to normal.

"Problem is, I don't really get what that has to do with any existent Cryptid type. What would I even call that? And even if I could track down some Cryptid from some mythology, I'd probably end up falling into a rabbit hole of thousands of similar creatures. It'd be like trying to diagnose a disease based on a cough and a runny nose. I just can't be certain is all."

Using his phone once more, Natty rapped away at the surface. Her eyes glimmered softly, an expression of hope and understanding prancing across them in the process.

"It's alright to not know for sure. You know, not figuring that sort of thing out isn't so uncommon. Many of us didn't really know our parents or where we came from. Myself included. Maybe taking small steps in the right direction like you are now will make things better. It can be hard to be in your position, but you know more today than you did yesterday, and the day before, right?"

With an unconvinced nod, Holden leaned forward and sipped from his coffee again. He looked at the strange girl whose face was half-covered by vegetation. Her words interested him, after all she offered a perspective he hadn't previously considered. Her and the others in this new world had similar problems? It wasn't outlandish that a family composed of creatures and half-humans wasn't conducive towards creating a lasting unit.

"Is that the case? It makes sense, all things considered. Still…Natty, why are you here? I mean, it's not really my business or anything. You're probably just some person I'll end up knowing for a little bit and forgetting in the future someday. I don't know why I'm asking this, but what's the thing that brought you into this life? What's keeping you here? You seem comfortable with Melony, so is this... your weird form of happiness or whatever?"

Natty climbed over the couch and sat down next to Holden, stretching her arms back much to Holden's discomfort.

"My happiness? Maybe. I didn't really have anywhere to go before this, though. You see, you ask me what's keeping me here, what brought me into this life. The answer is really just my existence."

"Your existence? What's that supposed to mean?

"You know, my existence. Just look at me. My introduction to this life was literally who I am. Your powers were hidden for a while, and for many people it's just like that. But for those of us who are born so obviously different, it was never possible for us to not know we were weird, it was never possible for us to blend in with the rest of the world. For people like me, someone like Melony is a saving grace. Someone to bring me in, to not judge me so harshly. For the first time in my life, I've been given this kind of consistency. So yeah, this is my happiness."

"Right, I guess you couldn't just hide who you are, huh? Unfortunate, I'd imagine that's led to some issues here and there. Can't really roll up and order some takeout with your appearance, no offense. Won't say it's all that bizarre to me, though. Least it isn't any more strange than everything else I've seen. I'm sitting in some weird dimension surrounded by vast purple oceans, and just the other week I watched Melony open her stomach to swallow some sort of water demon. You looking like some sort of forest guardian is just another thing on the list for me."

Natty sat for a moment, stewing over Holden's words. Without warning, she feverishly tapped upon the glass, another message sprawled across the screen for Holden to witness.

"Forest guardian huh? That's weirdly a lot less hurtful than the other things I've been called. You wouldn't expect hybrids to look at me with disgust, right? You'd likely assume they'd accept me for being in a similar boat with them, we're incapable of publicly showing our true selves after all. Even then, there's a difference between us. They can fit in, so long as they keep their paranormal side a secret. No matter what I do, I'll never appear regular. Even among those who don't fit in, I especially don't fit it. Even though all hybrids feel similar things as I do, like their self-hatred at the fact they're unaccepted among humanity, they often refuse to look towards our similarities when interacting with people like me. After all this time, I wish I were different, but at least now I can more easily embrace who I am. Miss Melony wouldn't let me sulk for a moment after all, she'd bother me and make me say five nice things about myself for every harsh, self-doubtful thought I had."

The flowers that adorned Natty's face became more vibrant as she spoke, reaching a climax as she talked about Melony's impact on her life. Nonetheless, Holden grew agitated at her speech.

"What the Hell is the point of this, exactly? Congratulations on being comfortable here, but that's not exactly useful to me. You never knew what it was like to have normalcy, and I'm sure that came with its own set of issues. I have known normalcy, and I had it snatched from me. I can't hope to return to what I once had, everything beyond here is unknown, and I alone have to walk my own path. No amount of strange women whispering sweet nothings into my ear will grant me what I want. Everyone wants to know who they are, but nobody has the same road to walk down in pursuit of that. So it's cool that you're just... sunshine and rainbows about your place in the world. Just know that has nothing to do with me."

"I know, I wouldn't expect me to have the key to your locked door. I was just saying, Holden. Our paths aren't identical, but they're both terribly difficult, I'm sure. All I mean is, you've already come this far, as have I. Whether the roadblocks ahead get harder or easier to climb over, I think you'll climb over them just fine. Miss Melony believes in you, and if she does, then so do I. She has good judgment, even if it's a little hard to see that all the time. For your goals, there's no better place to be than here. Though some of us like Jackson and Carrie don't show it well, they do care. They just have their own issues and personalities. You'll get along just fine, I promise."

"Yeah... if you insist. Is that all you came to tell me? To be hopeful, and that others believe in me? Hope and belief aren't strategies. I can't wish my parents back, nor wish to understand myself as I want to. That manifestation bullshit is a fairy tale. I'm sure you came from a place of good intentions, but I'll be fine without being beaten over the head with pleasant platitudes." Natty hesitated for a moment, the coloration of her flowers diminishing slightly.

"Just think about it, okay? I wouldn't ask you to buy in all at once. It took me a while to buy in myself, that I was worthwhile and that others really did care. You're a stubborn guy, right? Not just to me, but yourself. So it's only a matter of time before you push through whatever barriers stand between you and your happiness. That isn't my prediction. That's something I know. I think you know it too." For a moment, there was silence.

"Is that all, Natty? I'm sure we both have things to do..."

"Just one more thing," she asked.

"Yeah?"

"Earlier, you said that I was just another thing on the list, right? You said eventually you'd forget me. That I'm nothing special?"

"Something like that, yeah."

At that, Natty's flowers slowly began to reinvigorate, her delight expressed through the brilliant greens and yellows which decorated her face.

"Thank you. I mean it. Thank you so much."

"For what?"

"For thinking of me that way. As just as standard as everything else, relatively speaking. It means a lot, actually"

Unexpectedly, she placed the phone back into Holden's hands and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him warmly. Holden grunted in objection, but otherwise didn't refuse her embrace. He turned his head away, slowly pushing her back after a time. Natty nodded her head in understanding before letting go. With a slight wave of her hand, she exited the room, and the aroma which entered Holden's nose made her reason apparent; breakfast was ready.

"What a nuisance," Holden grumbled before tucking his phone away and standing up. Stretching his arms, he swiped his coffee mug up from the table to take with him. Before he could move, he glanced down and realized Pepper had been sleeping at his feet. With a gentle nudge, she woke up and smacked her lips in exhaustion.

Holden would need all the breakfast he could get, as he was sure the day would take a toll on him. An entire morning and afternoon spent with one strange individual was enough to tire him, let alone a multitude of them. Even still, he made his way forward, tucking his unpleasant thoughts away as best he could. It was the start of a new day, and he hardly figured it was worthwhile to consider it trash before it even began.

(Chapter Fifteen: Paralysis)

Holden Cauthwell wasn't sure what to expect when he awoke. His gaze traversed the dark room, the only light present offered by the strange green moon that hung in the night sky. The rays only reached a few feet beyond the window, all else beyond that border was tantamount to a void, one that devoured anything that entered. Upon his first scan of the room. Holden was met with nothing unordinary. Only on the second scan was a horrific detail added, that being the now opened eyes of a person in the far right corner. Whatever it was, its form was somehow darker than even the surrounding black. If the natural darkness was akin to a void, then the figure was akin to whatever leviathan swallowed even such vacuums. Thus, the eyes, the sign Holden initially recognized, were practically two white suns by contrast.

There it sat, positioned on the television stand that expanded to that corner, all the while it remained motionless and perfectly silent. In spite of its alarming appearance, there was an appetite for investigation as Holden attempted to move. This proved futile, however, his body remaining locked in his bed, which the being before him took as its cue to speak. If it indeed had a mouth, it couldn't have been using it to communicate its thoughts. There was no external noise, only a slew of information transcribed into Holden's mind while he lay motionless. All the same, the information did have a voice, and it spoke in a soft, hushed tone at that.

"No use trying to move, you can't. I've induced sleep paralysis onto you, the only thing you can do is watch and listen."

The thing was right. Holden's eyes moved in a desperate flurry, his limbs straining in some foolish effort to budge even an inch, though even that wasn't afforded to him. He thought it was a dream at first, but it felt too real. Even lucid dreams could not perfectly emulate the feel of the air on the skin, nor the sheets over his body, yet they felt perfectly as they should have. Perhaps even more convincingly, the acceleration of his heart rate told him all he needed to know, that the pool of anxiety welling up within him was not fictional. It was justified.

"It's so bothersome to get into this place undetected. So many precautions are required, all because of her... Do I feel familiar? I would expect to. Not that you'd remember exactly why my voice affects you like it does. My presence is a memory that resonates in your soul, but that memory is hazy. What a shame that you have to be ignorant. I must say, It's a pleasure to set my sight upon you again. I'm a very patient man, but even I have to indulge now and again. Entering your dreams doesn't feel quite the same, eventually I need something more satisfying."

Giving up on trying to wiggle free from the confines of his blankets, Holden trusted that his eyes would adapt to the darkness. They did, but to his dismay that proved to be of little importance. No matter how well his vision adjusted, it led him no further into gaining insight about the thing in the corner. Its bright white eyes remained the only feature visible. The more he stared at it, the colder the shivers that crawled up his spine became.

"I want to say, you do develop beautifully. You're so ripe with potential, you have no idea how powerful you can become. I wish to see that. In fact, I'm counting on it."

The room fell silent, the man choosing to let the quiet marinate for a few moments before continuing. Holden swore he heard a hint of excitement laced within the thing's faint voice.

"You won't remember what I say to you tonight, but the meaning will reverberate within your spirit as it becomes engraved into your subconscious. It will be similar to how you feel unsettled by my familiarity. So, with that said..."

Like a snake the man slithered over to the bed, his lanky body still encased in shadow as it leaned over Holden. Internally, Holden's fight or flight response activated, and he fought to rip his arms from the mattress and smash his fist into this being's face. His adrenaline-fueled mentality did little to change the reality of his motionless self. The two white eyes hovered above Holden. They never blinked.

"You need to become strong. As strong as you can possibly be. Something terrible will arrive. Something from thousands of years ago, if not longer, is returning like a plague. The most unstoppable cryptid to have ever existed, a creature of apocalyptic power, and it will bring death and terror with it. Millions will lose their lives, and millions more will be subjugated to fates worse than death, all happening as it turns this world to ash. This thing knows no empathy, no mercy. It exists only to impose its ultra-violence onto every living thing. To establish its supremacy atop the food chain, with all things beneath it mattering less than the dirt. To it, blood and rot is its birthright. To it, disaster and ruin is its euphoria."

The thing collapsed into the bed beside Holden. It stared at him from his left side. Holden knew this, even if he couldn't turn his neck. He could feel the thing's gaze lingering on him like an unwanted stain.

"It's possible that Melony is strong enough to destroy it, oh how precious her growth has been as well. Still, with the exception of her nobody stands a chance. But you see, that's not an issue for me, because I happen to like having insurance. And that is precisely what you will be. If she fails in killing it, you and your immense potential will be the key. I need you to understand how vital you are in securing the future of my world. I need you to prepare."

The hairs on Holden's arms stood up as a hand glided down his cheek, grasping the underside of his chin and turning his head. He faced the entity once more, forced to look into its piercing eyes.

"Become stronger. Embrace your powers. Ready yourself for the Hell that is to come. Don't let me down. Do not allow my future world to be set ablaze. Sacrifice what you must. Become who you were meant to be."

At this, Holden's eyes began to close, all the while the being kept repeating itself, incessantly ranting about Holden's need to become more. When the morning came, he sat upright and yawned. He looked down at the floor to his side, watching as Pepper continued her undeterred slumber. Aside from feeling drowsy, Holden was under the assumption he'd slept through a regular night. While he wiped his groggy eyes and shook his head, however, he did feel different than he had before. He already planned on spending the day training his powers to develop them. With that said, the potency of that motivation felt significantly more intense than yesterday.

He paid it no mind, considering that maybe his interest grew as it naturally would when one is exposed to a fresh side of reality.

(Chapter Sixteen: Out Of Sight)

The basement underneath the facility Melony had taken Holden was dedicated to training. As he was told, his absorption abilities were like a muscle, and through practice, he could enhance the results of his power. That's why he could be found inside the large room throughout the day, picking up various objects and drawing their properties into his body. The area was like a school gymnasium, the floor composed of hardwood and the walls padded with foam. Several dummies were placed around the environment, taking the shape of a male torso and head attached to a black pole fused into the floor. Some had indents imparted upon them, the source of the damage evident by the bruises spread across Holden's knuckles. He wiped his arm across his sweaty forehead, panting while he knelt downward for a break.

His bruised and battered palm neared the half-empty glass seated before him, allowing the tips of his fingers to break the water's surface. It rippled, distorting the reflection of his face. His muscles relaxed as he felt looser, his arm's movement literally increasing in fluidity as it moved. Thoughts of his power's limitations crossed his mind. With enough training, what heights could he reach upon granting himself the attributes of water? Could he be as powerful as a tsunami, while also being flexible enough to fit through any crack or crevice?

Among the items in the room he used his ability on, the cup was only the most recent to capture his fascination. Through interacting with a bowl of hot broth, he could heat up his palms to the temperature of an active stove top. When inhaling the helium inside of a nearby pink balloon, he became lighter, and able to move more quickly. The surrounding outlets provided him with a significant electrical charge, and he could use it to shock surfaces he touched. Thinking back to Melony's comment about using her gifts to enhance her brain's processing speeds, he wondered whether he could eventually improve the efficiency of his brain's electrical signals, even if the idea seemed absurd.

The objects were simple enough, but Holden had to start somewhere. The further he could take his technique, the more he'd get accustomed to its limitations and, more importantly, the closer he'd get to understanding its origins and therefore the nature of his mother. In his mind, it was that thought that pushed him, feeding his need to become better. He readied himself to resume his work when a voice interrupted him.

"You perform cute magic tricks quite well! How long do you plan to keep at it? Don't you realize how pointless it is..?" Holden immediately identified the voice's owner. Jackson, in all his egotistical vanity, stood in the doorway of the suddenly too-small gymnasium. He continued before Holden could get a word in, not that it'd change the outcome of their interaction anyway.

"I don't know why you're here, and I don't really care. Whatever purpose you think you have, forget it and leave before you get yourself killed. Nobody is going to cry for you or remember you when you're a blood stain on the wall in some abandoned shithole factory. I'm trying to do you a favor."

Holden didn't respond at first. He simply marched over, standing in front of the taunting man while holding an irritated look on his face. He didn't even look Jackson in the eyes, instead looking past him. "Not your call. I'm staying, and I've made up my mind. Now leave, before I make you leave."

Jackson didn't budge. His arms folded and he let out a small huff, his eyes narrowing while he let out a low whistle.

"Miss Melony may have brought you in, but that doesn't mean you belong here. You haven't seen what I have. Haven't been through what I've experienced. I see how you talk to her. Heard how you spoke to Natasha as well. You're just another self-centered prick without a clue. Hunting down cryptids, stopping hybrids from stepping over the line between right and wrong, you couldn't care less about any of that. You have no respect for the life we live, and it disgusts me. All that you've done since you've arrived is spit in our faces."

With that, Holden's glare finally focused on Jackson. His fists curled and he sneered with disdain while sizing up the man who dared speak to him like that.

"Don't pretend to know anything about me. I don't care if you approve of me, but stay in your lane and we won't have any issu-"

Holden was cut off as a fist landed square into his nose, causing him to stumble back and fall to one knee. The punch was strong and perfectly executed, and Holden's hands shook as they clutched his nose, blood dripping to the floor. He rose to his feet, looking up at the now vacant doorway. His confusion only lasted for a split second before it was replaced with agony, a sharp pain ripping through his head as his scalp was clutched and he was thrown down to the floor. With a thud, his face slammed into the wood below, and Jackson stood over him, casting a dark shadow over Holden's figure. With a hard kick to the ribs, Holden was rolled over and forcefully lifted back up before being thrown into the wall.

"If I wanted you dead, I'd have killed you already. All it takes is a broken neck or a knife in your throat. You think you're hot shit for hanging with some low-level cryptids? Are you expecting this to be easy for you?"

There was no time for Holden to respond before Jackson's fist embedded itself within his gut. He coughed, clutching at his stomach while he gasped desperately for air.

"You get hit and your first reaction is to recover. It isn't even registering in your mind or body that you need to create immediate distance between yourself and the threat, let alone that you should counter-attack. Those are the kinds of instincts that will get you slaughtered. All you exude is weakness and inexperience. You're the sort of ally who gets his comrades killed, who can't defend what's precious to him. Pathetic."

Jackson's gruff voice rang in Holden's ears, the condescending meaning behind each word infuriating him. He once more tried to regain his composure, pressing his back against the wall and attempting to lock his sights on Jackson. The man's form appeared briefly in Holden's peripheral vision, but he disappeared as soon as he'd arrived. Within an instant, a kick was pushed into Holden's leg, staggering him and sending him tumbling down. Jackson's speed was impressive, but bewildering all the same. Although his pace outperformed Holden's in every instance, the difference between his movements now and when Holden was directly looking at him was very noticeable. It was as if he could immediately close the distance between the two of them, somehow pushing his alacrity beyond what was natural.

"It's useless to try to react to him, it's like he's always behind me. If I can't track him, then maybe..."

Holden pressed his hand against the padded wall nearby just moments before another strike connected. He winced in expectation of yet another concussive blow to topple him, but his technique granted him momentary reprieve as he cushioned the impact; an invisible helmet of sorts lessening the damage. He wasn't nearly as staggered as before and he seized the opportunity to counterstrike. Holden's retaliatory hit was haphazardly sent into Jackson's gut. The much larger man gasped in surprise, expecting to feel the painful aftermath only to realize that the blow was too soft to matter. Holden backed away slowly, and for the moment, Jackson made no move to retaliate.

"Your speed is inconsistent. It doesn't feel like you're rapidly changing your pace just to throw me off. What the Hell is going on," Holden asked.

"I don't mind telling you, since you can't do anything about it. My power originates from my father, who was a Hidebehind. They're creatures infamous for escaping detection. When you're not looking directly at me, I'm free to manifest into any of your blind spots. The process is nearly instant, you'd have to be faster than your own shadow to react to me once I've used my ability. Nobody can respond quickly enough, with the exception of Miss Melony." Jackson tapped his foot against the floor, looking down upon Holden with sheer contempt.

"So that's how it is, huh? That's... annoying," replied Holden, taking a moment to catch his breath. "But I'm confused..."

Jackson tilted his head, unsure of what Holden meant. "Confused? About what? What the Hell could you possibly not understand?"

"I don't understand why you think this is enough to make me leave. You can make all the assumptions you want about me, I don't care. Like I said earlier, I'm here to stay. Nothing you do can change that." Holden wiped his hand across his face, his fingers tracing along his eyes before his arm fell back down to his side.

"Okay then. I thought you were an idiot, but I didn't expect you to be this stupid. I'll beat your ass until you learn, that's fine by me." Jackson began approaching, readying his fists. Holden reciprocated his advancement, and the two began to brawl.

Punches, elbows, and kicks were thrown out in a random assortment on Holden's end, his experience with fighting being relatively low compared to his opponent. Jackson on the other hand remained calm and collected, expertly side-stepping and deflecting the bombardment.

"The one condition I have to fulfill to activate my ability is that you aren't directly looking at me. In that way, it's momentum-based. It's nearly impossible to constantly maintain eye contact with an adversary. Eventually, you'll blink. Maybe the sweat will drip into your eyes. Perhaps you'll be thrown off by an unexpected movement or hit. When that happens, it's hopeless for you. Regaining direct sight while being assaulted from your blind spots won't come easy."

Holden gritted his teeth as his jaw was smacked hard with an elbow. Using the opportunity, Jackson disappeared once more, emerging behind Holden and throwing a powerful roundhouse kick towards the back of his head. To his surprise, Holden immediately recognized the angle of the attack and ducked appropriately, spinning around and cracking Jackson in the neck with an open palm. The large man clutched his throat and coughed, throwing out another kick to try and make distance. Holden checked before it could even gain power, bolstering the hardness of his leg by absorbing that property of the wooden floor. "That shouldn't even be possible," Jackson croaked, a small bruise forming where Holden struck him.

"I saw it coming. There's little more to say. You can attempt to use your ability again, but it won't work anymore. That's why you haven't, right? You can't meet your condition now." "So that's what you did? Clever. However..." Jackson began, before somehow vanishing from sight again.

Holden spun around, eyes widening as his foe did the impossible. He hardly had time to register what was going on before he was on the floor again. Jackson had slammed him down and now mounted him with malicious intent. He relentlessly battered Holden with a pummeling that fully spoke to his malevolent attitude. Holden could taste the blood that filled his mouth and could smell the iron as it poured freely from his nose. He could feel the sting of his cheeks as cuts marred his skin, knowing that there would already be bruises forming that were sure to darken. Only when Holden stopped struggling did Jackson cease his onslaught. The man got up and looked down at Holden, his body motionless on the ground. He turned to walk away but stopped himself when Holden began to mutter something from behind him.

"Where are you... going... we aren't finished."

Holden tried and failed to stand, resorting to resting his body against the wall.

"How did you... I covered my blind spots."

"Miss Melony told me about the doll cryptid you fought. Remember how it played a game with you? A ritualistic version of hide and seek, with established rules and consequences?"

"Yeah... but what does that have to do with..." Holden said before coughing, unable to finish.

"Cryptids aren't the only ones who can perform rituals. Hybrids can do it as well. We often engage in them to make up for our weaknesses. By exchanging something meaningful, we reap great benefits. In my case, I agreed to dull one of my senses for the next five minutes, in exchange for forcing a blind spot upon you in spite of your counter to my ability. Looks like it was my sight that took a hit." "You can just... do that?"

"Yeah, but it needs to be an equivalent exchange. Many hybrids and cryptids use rituals like that, or they have deals with other cryptids and hybrids for an agreed-upon price. Either way, if the trade isn't equal, you won't be given an advantage in a fight. In fact, some people who try to cheat the system end up crippled or dead. You have to be experienced and intelligent to consistently do it, so many weak cowards outright refuse to try."

"So that's... how." Holden fell flatly against the ground again, barely clinging to consciousness.

"Yeah, that's how. That's also all you need to know, for now. None of your injuries are lethal, so you're going to be fine. You're still weak. You're still likely going to die. But you seem innovative and resilient enough. Maybe you'll last a little longer than I first anticipated. Regardless, if I ever catch you speaking to Natasha the way you did again, or if I catch wind that you disrespect Miss Melony despite her faith in you... I'm going to make this even worse for you. Don't you forget that while you're here."

With that, Jackson exited the room, leaving Holden to rest on the floor until he found the energy to move.

(Chapter Seventeen: Bedside)

"The Hell are you doing here?"

Holden lay still in the bed he was placed in, eyes facing the bright light above him. The surrounding area was a pristine white -clearly meant to serve as a makeshift medical room- with the exception of a few small tables that held various pots filled with small shrubs and trees. One such table sat beside Holden, an assortment of flowers bundled neatly on its surface. Holden had gotten acquainted with it all over the course of several hours while his aching body healed. Between periods of rest, he'd come to expect waking up to the soft buzzing of an overhead lamp. He was not suspecting that upon waking up this time, Jackson would be seated beside his bed, a blank expression plastered across his face.

"I'm making sure you're still alive. You're breathing, aren't you?" Jackson sat with one leg folded over the other, his eyes scanning the pages of some non-descript novel. His voice was dull and uninterested like his presence was an everyday occurrence.

"Yeah, something like that. Is there anything you want? And uh... are those-" Holden gestured at the flowers with his hand.

"No. They're not. They're from Natasha. She gave me a piece of her mind when she found out I put you in your place. Wanted to see you, but you were asleep. So she decided to go back to the normal world and find you some flowers, and took Miss Melony with her."

"And where are they now?" Holden sucked his teeth and adjusted his neck, nestling into the mattress. He lowered his right arm over the side of the bed, gently tracing his fingers over Pepper's head. She tenderly licked his palm and yawned before settling down on the floor once more.

"Out again. They're getting second helpings in case one isn't enough. I told them it was a waste, that if you didn't appreciate the first set you weren't worth a second one. Natasha insisted on it though, and went against what I assume to be her better judgment."

"That's nice," Holden mumbled under his breath. "Isn't she some sort of nature creature? Could she not just grow some herself and save the trou-" "That creature, as you put it, considers lazy gifts to be lacking in meaning. Maybe you should be appreciative, at least more than you were when you two spoke the other day," Jackson barked, the book in his hands finally lowering to his lap as he scowled at Holden.

With a deep sigh, Holden closed his eyes and grazed his forehead with his hand. Taking a moment to compose himself, he responded in a collected, mild manner. "Then I'll stay up so I can thank her later."

"As you should." The remark was blunt, quickly conveying the bitterness laced within Jackson's words. The tone stung, like verbal lemon drops seeping into a thousand paper cuts. A few seconds of silence passed before the stillness was interrupted by Holden, who had turned his head to face Jackson directly. His lips parted, only to seal shortly after. Some visceral feeling in his gut made itself apparent, giving resistance to his thoughts being expressed. Holden would push through this, however, determined to speak his mind and reject his shame.

"I should apologize. Both to you, and to Natasha for how I spoke to her. Getting emotional and escalating things with you wasn't the right call. Not that I want to lay down and let you walk all over me like some kind of worm. But... I know better than to take things too far."

Jackson didn't reply. His gaze remained fixated on Holden, and a hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes.

"There was something my dad told me some years ago. He told me how it doesn't make you a man to find pleasure in hurting and scaring others. Even if you dislike them, even if they stand in your way. Finding satisfaction in hurting people doesn't make you a man... but it can make you a monster. And I don't think... I don't think the right thing to do is seek trouble where there doesn't need to be any."

Jackson hummed in thought, his tense posture relaxing slightly as he took in what Holden had to say. "So what are you trying to say? That you're becoming some kind of monster? What kind of attitude is that?"

"Nah. My dad also said something else. He said that all people make mistakes, and that everyone is capable of operating like a monster, often by accident. What really separates us from monsters is that we recognize where we failed and correct it. We don't allow our imperfections to define us, you know? Since my life has changed, I've tried to take it all in and remain unshaken. I know I can handle it, but I don't know, maybe it all caught up to me."

With a light cough, Jackson cleared his throat. He contemplated what his answer would be, and when he finally settled upon it, he delivered it with a far more mellow tone than he offered prior. "Miss Melony said there was more to you than being some brat. It's possible she wasn't wrong about that. Your father sounded like he had a good head on his shoulders. Let me guess, he's been absent for some time now?"

There was no sense of malice or sarcasm Holden could detect in Jackson's statement. It was to the point, yes, but it was nothing more than what it presented itself as at face value. "Did Melony tell you?"

"No. I wasn't terribly interested in you or your story, to be honest. It's just a common occurrence for hybrids to be on their own from a young age. Their origin doesn't lend itself to creating a stable family unit."

"You can say that again... I assume it's the same for you?" Holden delicately picked one of the flowers from the bundle and fiddled with the petals. They were bright pink, a welcome contrast to a room devoid of soul.

"Since the start. It was just me and my brother, we stuck it out together for some years. Moved from place to place, and tried to make sure we had a bite to eat at night and decent clothes to keep on our backs."

"And... where is he now?"

"Somewhere out there. I'm not entirely sure. But he's a tough guy. Even though he's younger, I never looked down on him. He could take care of himself then. I know he'll make it until-" Jackson paused, his voice abruptly falling off a cliff. He turned his head away, breaking the eye contact between them with seemingly no explanation. "What happened to him...?"

"He was taken. I should have seen it coming... two hybrid children on their own, without supervision. We were vulnerable targets, we didn't stand a chance. I don't even know who did it, but there was a night he and I got ambushed in a shack we were staying in. Never saw their faces, I was too startled, too weak."

Jackson rose from his seat and walked to the left corner of the room, pacing back and forth before stopping and taking a deep breath. Looking down at the floor, he rubbed the back of his neck and continued. "I hesitated that night. I had a brother to protect, and I couldn't save him. All I could do was scream and... and run while my little brother chose to stay and fight. I never saw their faces, but even while I fled I heard what they were saying. They were all so giddy while they assaulted Myles... all they could think about as they ripped his freedom away was the payday they'd receive from the Editor. All that pain and suffering they caused, just for a pay day."

"That's... messed up. How old were you two?" A touch of somberness infected Holden's inflection, his already soft voice tapering off near the end. "We were both twelve. He was only a few minutes younger than me but... it doesn't matter. It was still my responsibility. And it's still my responsibility to find and save him." Jackson looked up and faced Holden once more, eyes reverting from thoughtfulness to assertiveness within a second.

"We aren't allowed to be weak in this life. Not you, not me, not anyone. So I'm not sorry for the way I've treated you. I'm not sorry for fighting you after how you showed blatant disregard for Natasha and Miss Melony's kindness. I hold no regrets about that because you deserved it."

Holden tensed up while he directed conscious effort into not replying with a snarky or aggravated remark. Despite his initial indignance to what he was told, he remained visibly undisturbed. He figured that for the current moment, this was likely as much progress as he'd make.

"But my behavior towards you when you first arrived may have been... no, not may have been. It was inappropriate."

If Holden had been drinking something, he'd have surely spat it out at that comment. Had he not known better, he'd have sworn he was hallucinating. "Right, well thank you. I appreciate that." He sat up and stretched his arms, Jackson's admission of fault seemingly energizing him.

"As far as the fight goes... at least it wasn't all a waste. I think I figured a few things out."

"Is that so? I suppose that counts for something, what did you discover?" Jackson raised an eyebrow, his inquisitive side emerging in response to Holden's claim.

"I think you know one of the things I learned. So far, I've used my ability to absorb the properties of objects and distribute them through my body. When we fought, I performed a gamble and tried distributing a property I was already in possession of."

"You distributed the property of sight that belonged to your eyes. Effectively, you eliminated your blind spots by granting certain parts of your body the ability to see," Jackson stated, rubbing his chin as the pieces came together in his mind.

"Right. I thought it would be worth the attempt. There were after effects though. I only used my power that way for a brief time, but I felt unbearably motion sick. I'm not used to having that many perspectives, so it did a number on me. It's a good thing I realized that in a non-fatal situation. I didn't sense a lethal intent from you, or even enough malice to warrant me fearing permanent injury. Though, that leads me to the second and third things I learned. Some of the engagements I've had with cryptids ended with me entering a trance-like state, and I seem to be able to heal my wounds as well. This time was different, obviously. My theory is that those things emerge when my life is in genuine danger, not just when I'm in a fight or getting hurt."

"An interesting idea. Until you have confirmation, you should think of that as a likely possibility as opposed to a hard rule. It's not good to commit yourself to unreliable information."

Jackson paused, digesting a thought that ran through his mind before continuing further. "If further fighting will help you gain knowledge of your abilities, then I suppose I could offer that for you in my free time."

"Is that a real offer? I can grow stronger and more informed on my own. If this is some sort of pity proposal or whatever-" Holden was promptly cut off, Jackson's interruption coming across as quick and snappy.

"Stop. You know it's not. But yes, it's a real offer. I still think you'll die sooner than later, and you still shouldn't get your hopes up and think anyone will mourn you for long after you're gone. At the very least though, I know you aren't the type to leave my comrades... our comrades... to die. If that's true, then for your sake and theirs, we can spar in the future. The way you approach it is ultimately up to you." Jackson took several long strides toward the door, wrapping his fingers around the doorknob as he awaited Holden's reaction.

"Fine then, I'll consider it. It's probably the least I can do to pull my weight around here."

"Good." The door opened and Jackson stepped one foot out. At the last moment, he turned around and tapped his foot against the floor a few times before continuing with what he wanted to say. "While you were asleep, Melony and I found a camera in your pocket. I gave the gallery a look through, out of curiosity. Myles... liked photography too. Exploring abandoned places and such, those were memories he enjoyed keeping in something tangible."

Jackson exited and closed the door behind him, leaving Holden alone with his thoughts and Pepper (Who now slept deeply on the floor beside the bed). He pondered over the interaction that just played out, and thought over the offer Jackson made to him. Perhaps even more than that, he wondered what exactly it was that Natasha and Melony had gone through up until this point in their lives. Those, he decided, were questions worth asking when he got the chance.

(Chapter Eighteen: A Stream In The Clearing)

In the deep forest where lush shrubbery and tall grass emerged from every direction, a young Natasha sat by a small stream. Only being thirteen years old, the girl was small and frail, having only the tattered clothes on her back to protect her. Nonetheless, the flowers on her face were vibrant, a mix of yellows and whites scattered across her visage like a perfect painting. Her palms sunk into the water before her and then rose to her cheeks and chin while she delicately spread the moisture all across the surface. Though her mouth was covered with moss and plant life, it didn't matter. When she wanted nourishment, she found it through absorbing what she needed through her skin.

The brightness of her flowers intensified as a young deer approached, dipping into the water for a drink. Natasha softly traced her fingers across its fur, basking in the warmth the touch provided. The fawn paused its drinking to nuzzle its snout against her cheek, causing Natasha to pat its head in admiration. Her right arm, composed of wood from which small mushrooms emerged, rose into the air. From underneath her bark fingernails a string of grass gradually came forth. She plucked flowers from her face, lacing them into the string to create a crown for her new friend. Natasha neatly placed it atop the young deer's head before stepping back and viewing her creation. Her visible green eye glistened with satisfaction, all the while the fawn gleefully pranced in a circle around her.

This enjoyment would be short-lived, however, as the sound of footsteps approached. Although they remained unheard by Natasha, she picked up on the presence. To make up for her deafness, she spread roots from the soles of her feet into the ground, and they extended throughout the area. As they were trampled by a pair of shoes, she was alerted of an unexpected visitor.

With haste, she instinctually detached her roots and ducked behind a nearby tree, her heart rate rapidly quickening. Cautiously peeking around the corner, she observed a young girl her age step into the clearing. She was pale and her golden hair clashed brilliantly against her skin.

Wearing a pink and white floral shirt and a matching pair of jean shorts, the girl crouched down and observed the deer. Now on full alert the fawn darted off into the woods, its crown falling onto the dirt below. The girl retrieved it and studied it closely, a small smile forming on her lips.

"E-excuse me? Uhm... I saw you make this and... and I just wanted to come say hello. It's a really neat... piece of art you made. I think it's beautiful..."

There was silence. Natasha remained hidden, her fingers digging into the tree as her body tensed. Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, she waited a few moments for the girl to leave, but to no avail. "It's ok, you can come out... I know what you are, I'm like you too. I can also... do something special. Please, I just want to talk to you... my name is Bella. Can we be friends?"

Bella turned her head, catching a slight glimpse of Natasha. Moving out of Bella's line of sight, Natasha's arms began to tremble. Steadying herself, she got up and began to sprint through the wilderness. Her legs flew as fast as they could while she bolted, and she remained uncaring as branches and bushes smacked her legs and face.

"W-wait up! Please, I didn't mean to scare you!"

Bella began running after Natasha with growing concern culminating in her eyes. After a brief chase, Natasha's foot dug into a stump and she fell, crashing to the ground and bruising her knee in the process. Desperately trying to push herself up and keep going, her eye began to water when she found it difficult to move. She turned back, eyes fixated on her sprained ankle before her attention inevitably returned to her pursuer. Huffing and puffing, Bella clutched her knees and took a moment to catch her breath.

"I'm so sorry if I startled you- are you okay? Your knee... it looks bruised."

Natasha grabbed fistfuls of dirt and flung them at Bella, who covered her face in response.

"H-hey! Stop it! I'm not trying to hurt you... can't you see that? I... can't you understand?"

The girl made her way towards Natasha, shielding her brown eyes as a barrage of filth was continuously thrown her way. When she finally got close enough, she got down on one knee and grasped Natasha's arms, forcefully restricting their movement. This only further sent Natasha into a frenzy, and she contorted and wiggled her body in the process. She attempted to crawl away, but the jolt of pain that shot through her leg prevented her from doing so. Defeated and hopeless, the girl covered her head with her arms, retreating into a fetal position and bracing for the worst.

Instead, the pain she felt began to fade away. Utterly confused, she turned her head and witnessed tears falling from Bella's eyes and landing on her hand, where she then applied the moisture to Natasha's injuries. As the wounds healed, Natasha was able to stand. She resisted the urge to run and cocked her head to the side, curiosity coming to the forefront of her mind.

"I really... really didn't mean to startle you. I'm not sure if you can hear or understand me, but I think you should have this back. It's too pretty to just... forget about."

The girl handed Natasha her flower crown before wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. Taking the ornament into her hands, Natasha traced her thumb along the flower petals before her vision met with Bella's once more. She raised her arms and placed the crown atop Bella's head. Both girl's eyes sparkled with joy, and as Bella offered her hand, Natasha took it. Walking back to the stream they first met they found that the fawn had returned. It was spooked but otherwise just fine. Although suspicious at first, the deer slowly approached Bella and licked her hand. When it gained a little more confidence, it nuzzled its head against her as well.

"O-Oh, it's so cute. Uhm... I have an idea. Maybe I can... use my phone to talk to you?"

With that, she retrieved her device and attempted to communicate. Natasha nodded with understanding as she learned information about her new friend through text. Finally breaking the barrier between them, the two spent the next several hours skipping rocks down the stream and greeting the wildlife that interacted with them. As the hours passed, dusk arrived at last. Using her phone to speak, Bella told Natasha that she had to go home. However, they would agree to meet one another tomorrow afternoon at the same location. With a hug and a bundle of flowers to take with her, Bella departed and Natasha remained in her spot. The next day, they met again as agreed upon. Sometimes they would play in the river, and other times they explored the forest and played with all the critters that called it home. Often their fawn friend accompanied them while they enjoyed their time together, even napping with the two of them as they grew exhausted over the hours.

Days came and went, and those days turned into weeks and then months as the two bonded. At one point Bella brought a book with her, one that promised to teach basic applications of sign language. It was a gift Natasha cherished, and she feverishly studied the pages throughout both the day and night. She practiced, improving little by little as she learned the ropes. As her passion to connect with her friend magnified, Natasha began seeing the fruits of her dedication as she started to incorporate what she learned into bits and pieces of conversation with Bella. She too had dabbled into the language, and the two of them found it easier to understand each other as their conversations grew more efficient.

"We're really coming along so well," Bella thought.

"She's so good at learning all this new stuff... I'd be jealous if it weren't so cool. If she weren't so cool..."

She watched as Natasha applied the finishing touches to a hammock of branches and grass positioned between two small trees. The small fawn was by her side resting near her feet while she worked. Approaching her and tapping her shoulder, the girl waved weakly as Natasha faced her.

"Can I tell you something," Bella signed.

"What is it," replied Natasha.

"It will sound silly but... I wanted to tell you that you're one of the best people I've met. I know it's a weird thing to just say but I mean it. Your powers, your energy, the way nature seems to love you... I don't know. I'm really glad I met you. And I want to be as wonderful as you, you know?" A red tint of embarrassment shaded Bella's face as she spoke.

"You're already wonderful! And I'm happy I met you too. Happier than I've been in a long while. I was aimless for some time before you showed up. Thank you for giving me something to look forward to." Bella smiled and embraced Natasha, whose flowers practically glowed like they never had before. For a moment, all seemed well. Soon, however, a palpable shift in the atmosphere manifested.

Suddenly, Bella quickly pulled away and gasped, her focus pulled somewhere else. Confused, Natasha turned her head and saw three people. In front was a boy of higher stature than the others. His hair was short and blond, and his face greatly resembled Bella's. He wore a black tee shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. The other two boys both had brown hair and were dressed in a similarly casual manner consisting of jeans and tank tops. The boy in front pointed an accusatory finger at Natasha, his eyes peering deep into her spirit.

"Bella, what is that...? Is this where you've been running off to all this time? I knew I should've been more suspicious from the start. I should have followed you sooner."

Natasha's body tensed up as a bubble of anxiety formed in her gut. She positioned herself behind Bella, still unsure as to what to make of the situation. In response to this reaction, the main boy's eyes widened and he began walking forward.

"Bella, come here now. What are you doing with that shit blood, you know they can't be trusted!"

Bella began to tremble as fear gripped her, clogging her throat as if she were forced to swallow a clump of mud. It took all her might to break through and reply, her shaky voice not doing much to boost her confidence.

"Dean look it's... she's okay! She's nice and... and... she's my friend. She's not bad, I promi-"

Bella winced as Dean grabbed her by the arm and threw her aside. The two boys in the back started to giggle, but quickly went silent as Dean shot them a fierce glare. He turned to face Bella, her eyes watering as she looked up at him from the ground.

"When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. Don’t be a stupid worthless little shit! Did you forget that it's my responsibility to care for you? Why do you insist on making things hard for me?! And then when I try to help you, you resist and make me do this. What, do you think I like getting upset with you?"

Bella began to sob uncontrollably and backed away, her quivering voice throwing out a mixture of "I'm sorry" and "Please don't hurt her". Watching all of this unfold, Natasha's flowers began to gray and wilt away. Pushing through her terror, she placed herself between Bella and Dean, causing Dean's teeth to clench as his veins began to pop out in his forehead.

"W... who the Hell do you think you are? Who do you think you are to look my little sister in the eyes like you're worth a damn thing?! A dirty shit blood like you doesn't belong here with the rest of us."

Dean quickly wrapped his fingers around Natasha's throat, pushing her back and slamming her down into her hammock, destroying it. The girl scratched and clawed at her assailant's hand, all the while Bella could only rock back and forth as she wept.

"Did you think you were better than shit? Is that it? Your useless brain and ego convinced you that you deserved to corrupt and influence my innocent little sister?!"

His hand squeezed harder, and Natasha's eyes began to flutter as the pressure mounted on her throat. It only released as Dean let out a sharp cry. The fawn had bit down hard on his leg, and Natasha took the opportunity to escape his grasp.

"Damn it, fuck!" He yelled. He kicked the deer off of him, and the two boys rushed to his aid. Dean pushed them off, and he glared angrily at Natasha.

"Fuck you. Boys, hold this dumb bitch down. I want her to see this." With that command, they forced Natasha onto her knees and held her chin up. No matter how she struggled, she could do nothing but watch as Dean took hold of the fawn.

"You fucking shit bloods are all the same. Always trying to take what's precious away from us. There's no difference between you and those mindless beasts we rightfully hunt. First, your kind took me and my poor little sister's parents away from us. You have no idea what it was like, finding their bodies mangled and ruined by some freak just like you! And now, you're trying to take away the family I have left. Pops was right about you animals. You fucks are all like this."

He walked towards Natasha, dragging the fawn by the throat with him. He forced it down and kneeled on its neck. Natasha furiously tried to break free, but her attempts were met with a harsh smack to the face by her captors.

"Always taking what's precious from us... fuck you. You know what I think? I think you should feel what it's like."

To all but Natasha, the sound of a sickening snap could be heard. At that moment her body went limp and her wilting flowers began to peel away from her face. It was then that something within her mind broke. She looked down at the corpse of her friend, taking in the grisly image before her. She then glanced at Bella, who no longer had tears to shed. With a final turn of her head, she stared Dean in the eye. A smirk formed on his face, and he delivered a rough kick into the body of the fawn, pushing it right into Natasha.

Neither of the boys who restricted her had the strength to resist what happened next. Fueled by pure hatred and adrenaline, Natasha pulled forward and struck Dean using her wooden arm. He screamed in agony as several splinters pierced his left eye, his now gouged-out orifice erupting into a spray of gore. He clutched his face and stumbled back, blood-curdling yells of anguish permeating through the woods. The two boys who'd restrained Natasha stood still in utter shock, all the while Bella had passed out from the culmination of her anxiety and the violence she saw.

With the reality of what just occurred finally setting in on her, Natasha turned and began running. She didn't know where she was going, she only knew that she needed to escape. Escape from a place she once associated with fond moments, now permanently transformed into a scar in her memory.

"D-Don't just stand there! Fucking kill her! Kill that fucking shit-blooded whore," Dean howled at the top of his lungs.

It was of little use, as the two boys remained too petrified to move. Natasha ran and ran, and when she could no longer run, she walked. When she could no longer walk as her feet bled, she crawled. All the while, all she could think about was the hurt in her heart. She wondered if she had been betrayed, if Bella had led those boys to her. Eventually, even those thoughts became too painful to handle, and she pushed them back for her own sake.

After hours of non-stop movement, she collapsed from exhaustion under the cover of a cave entrance. The area was completely unfamiliar to her, but it didn't matter. All she could do then was rest, and endure the countless nightmares that persisted well beyond that day.

(Chapter Nineteen: Cages)

The cave young Natasha fell asleep in was a small one. Beyond the mouth of it, the inside only extended a few dozen feet back. There was enough width provided to grant mobility. It was something the young girl found a great need for as she tossed and turned in her sleep. That rest did not come easy, however, as several nights passed where she remained conscious, blankly staring up at the roof of her shelter.

She did not leave the confines of her new dwelling, not even for sustenance while her energy dwindled. Her body grew weak and withered while her mind became stale. The act of focusing on one particular subject was too taxing. Her brain functioned as a pipeline that invariably dragged her back to the same place. When she thought of her exhaustion, of leaving her cave, even when she thought of drifting off to sleep again, a torrent of memories she'd rather forget came surging forward. Her fawn friend dead at her feet. Bella hysterically crying in a heap of misery. Natasha herself was unable to do anything until it was too late.

Natasha pressed her back against one of the hard rock walls that surrounded her. Rain or shine, she remained in that position as her face grew sunken and her body wore down. At times liquid despair escaped from her exposed eye. That wouldn't turn out to be permanent as horror gave way to an emptiness that tore through her like a train. Regaining her vitality became meaningless without motivation. Returning to liveliness lost relevance without a light at the end of the tunnel.

She clutched her sides and buried her head into her knees. The hair atop Natasha's scalp draped over her arms. Many of the strands had been marred with filth which accumulated over the weeks that came to pass. What had once been a head composed of brilliant green follicles resembled a clump of gray and brown. She looked and smelled like death itself. There was no reason to move. Not even as she wilted away and not even as footsteps approached.

"Huh, look over there in that wee old cave entrance. Ya see that," A strange voice announced. It belonged to an older woman. A slightly younger man stood by her side, both of them adorned with camouflage clothing and gear. They appeared rugged but not unkempt.

"Well I'll be damned, that little blond-haired shit was right. There was one of them in the area. Ain't she one ugly son of a bitch?" The man chuckled and took a swig of a metal flask he held, smacking his lips and coughing as he finished. He walked forward and bent down near Natasha, inspecting her and noting her damaged state.

"Careful Jordan, ya never know what these little weirdos are capable of. Even when they're all fucked up. An animal with its leg in a trap can still bite," The woman said from the background. The man waved her words off, keeping his vision locked on Natasha, whose lightless eyes hardly registered the person in front of her.

"Aw, don't mind her. Always was a paranoid one. You're a fine specimen, I think we could get a nice little earning off you lass. Now you even think of fighting back, I can promise that you won't ever walk without a limp again." He grinned, his expression betraying the venom ingrained within his words. Natasha didn't react. She weakly leaned her head back against the stone wall.

"Atta girl", spoke the man.

Retrieving some rope from a bag strapped to his back, he bound her arms and legs and hoisted her up. She was carried for a while before being dumped into the back of a car. When the cradle of sleep eventually enveloped her, she didn't even notice. All Natasha perceived were her eyes opening to the sight of steel bars and armed men patrolling a moonlit grassy field outside. The place looked to be an encampment with tents and canopies strewn about. She had been locked in a large box, the perimeter secured by strong metal. The floor was brownish-red, splotches of blood inked into the surface. Outside Natasha could see several containment areas much like hers. Silhouettes of people appeared on the inside.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness Natasha began taking in the features of the imprisoned. One was a man with human features aside from his head which resembled a slug. He possessed a soft, brown surface of sticky flesh that coated him from the neck up, and two antenna-like structures that led to eyes stood on top of his head. Natasha also saw a woman in a separate crate, and what appeared at first to be a large red mass on her face was actually a myriad of fly-esque eyes, each darting around in every direction with a frenzy.

Natasha crawled forward and pressed her face against the bars. She wrapped her fingers around the metal and shook violently. For years, she'd promised herself not to get captured this way. Yet all it took to break that promise unfolded in a matter of days. Natasha, in what could only be described as a feeble attempt, reached up to her face with her hands. Hatred clogged her reasoning as she tried to strip the moss and bark from her. Her knuckles turned white and her fingernails chipped and bled while she struggled.

"This is all your fault," she thought. "It's your fault I'm like this, it's your fault I got taken. It's your fault I look like this! If it weren't for you I would be free. I could have been normal and had friends and had a life, but you just couldn't let me! It was too much to ask to be born the right way!"

Harder she pulled, her relentless struggle showing some progress as her muscles screamed while they strained. Bits and pieces of wood and moss dropped down to the floor as the vegetation gave way to raw force and disgust. Blood seeped from her now shattered nails and bruised fingers but she didn't stop. The pain only furthered her desire to rid herself of her imperfection, if only because it paled in comparison to the hurt she'd endure if she kept it.

"Just come off already! It isn't fair, you know this isn't fair. I don't care if it kills me, it isn't like I'm really living anyway." A large portion of bark dropped from her face, landing below with a clatter. She did not bleed from her wounds. Instead, a sort of sap drained out from the gaping hole. In response Natasha jammed her fingers into the entry, trembling in pain while she felt around near the inside of her jaw. She began to tug and pull, a crack emerging as she started to break off the mass of plant life from within. Her eye widened, the once green pool of hope now a red husk of its former self as it shed tears without pause.

"Oh God it hurts, it hurts... I just want it to stop. I need it all to be over, please! Please make it stop!"

The wood cracked and chipped while she pried it loose. She came close to ripping it completely free, her jaw and skin searing like they'd been engulfed in flame. That's when her misery was interrupted by a soft touch to the top of her head.

Natasha quickly removed her hand from her jaw and threw herself against the back of the cage. Somehow a woman had gotten inside and without having cut the bars no less. She stood tall and featured long brown hair that drooped down over her shoulders. A plethora of piercings clung to her nose and ears, all the while the blue pools of water for her eyes provided a warm glow even in the dark room. A river of blood and sap dripped down Natasha's arms. She didn't dare look into the eyes of the woman before her, instead opting to stare at her dirtied feet. The woman crouched down in front of Natasha and gently brushed her hair to the side. She spoke a few words before quickly realizing Natasha couldn't hear her.

The woman placed her palms against the sides of Natasha's head and produced a strange vibration through her hands. A set of binaural frequencies rippled through Natasha's brain like calming ocean waves and served to dull her pain and relax her body.

The woman backed away and turned to the bars, slicing them into pieces after transforming her arms into sharp appendages. After returning her limbs to normal, she delicately lifted Natasha and walked out with her. Although she'd already begun to drift off, Natasha glanced around and realized no guards were in sight. Instead, she witnessed multiple clones of her savior rescuing the other prisoners. Her head fell against the woman's shoulder, her anxiety vacuumed up by the same darkness that came with her slumber.

---

Holden settled upright in his hospital bed after his recovery had progressed enough. Natasha was positioned in front of him, yet another bundle of flowers in her lap while she sat. She held a somber yet hopeful expression as she finished tapping away on her phone screen.

"So that's how you ended up here, huh? What you went through was rough. Almost reminds me of," Holden began before pausing. He remembered what he'd experienced that fateful day. A child alone in the woods who clung to life through sheer willpower.

"Nothing, never mind. You must be pretty tough to go through Hell and come out on the other side," he said.

"I always said Melony is the reason I'm alive, but she gets annoyed and tells me to give myself more credit. She says the reason she only took me back was because she thought I was strong. Melony believed in my future. She still helped the others and worked with Carrie to make a dimension like this one where they could be safe. But she chose me, Holden. She chose me for a reason and I'll prove to her she didn't make a mistake. Melony and Jackson... they both helped me come a long way. I wasn't sure what I even wanted to live for before Melony found me," she replied.

"And does that mean you know now? What it is you want to do with your life, I mean."

"Yeah, it does. We've already been doing it for a while, freeing people like me in similar camps and compounds. Both Melony and I know that isn't a permanent solution though. We have to fight the disease itself, not the symptoms. We want to stop the major players behind operations like that. We want to show the world that people like me aren't monsters."

Holden offered her a slight nod of understanding. He wondered how she could remain so upbeat and cheerful despite the state of the world. The kind of attitude she maintained, in his mind, shouldn't be possible. "That's a pretty lofty goal. Even if it sounds like one worth fighting for, are you sure it's realistic?"

"If I have friends like Melony and Jackson, I'm confident it can be done. I'm glad you're a part of us now. I know this kind of life can be overbearing, but the fact you've arrived here regardless tells me all I need to know about you."

"Is that so? I appreciate that I guess," Holden replied. He glanced off to the side briefly before looking back, a long exhale pushing through his lips. "I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you the other day. I know it wasn't cool. I guess I just... got caught up in the pressure of everything. I'm usually fine at accepting things as they are, but even I have limits."

Natasha playfully punched him in the shoulder, her flowers brimming with energy.

"I figured it was something like that. This probably goes without saying but I've had much, much worse said to me. It still feels nice to hear your apology. There are no hard feelings. Remember when I told you how happy I was that you didn't see me as any weirder than the other hybrids and cryptids you've encountered? When I said that, I meant it. That's when I knew that even if we had differences or didn't get along at first, you were a good person at heart."

"Yeah... glad we could put that behind us. And I suppose I'm fine with you positively taking that comment of mine. You're not too bad if I'm honest," Holden replied. "Oh and, one more thing. I know you and Melony were just on the outside world, I was wondering if there was one more thing you could get for me. I know I shouldn't be making requests but... could you teach me sign language? Maybe having one of those books you mentioned could help me study and learn it-"

Natasha's eyes brightened as she shook her head "Yes" at an impressive rate. She threw her arms around Holden the instant he finished speaking, squeezing him tightly. Only when he coughed in discomfort did she release, profusely apologizing before darting out with a promise of returning with what he asked for.

Holden watched her go with sheer bewilderment. "She's weird," he thought to himself. "Though I guess there are worse things than being a little strange." He stood up and stretched his legs, not wanting to remain idle in bed any longer. The thought of growing stronger still occupied his mind, and he didn't wish to lose any more time.

(Chapter Twenty: Travel Plans)

"I'm not done yet. Let's go again."

Holden stood and wiped the blood from his nose. The dark red liquid stained his palms and knuckles, but it was unimportant. His resolve remained unburdened by the trial and plentiful error he'd endured. Jackson stood before him in the training room where they initially fought. His arms were folded and he looked down at Holden with an unamused expression playing across his face.

"You've gotten slightly better. I take it the effects are getting less disorienting?" He leaned back against the cushioned wall while he waited, rubbing his chin where Holden had managed to strike him, albeit only once. That was still more damage than he'd managed to pull off the last time.

"Yeah, I've been getting used to it. Distributing my vision is still tough, but I can do it for a few seconds longer now. Come on, I told you I'm not finished. Let's go again," Holden replied. He readied himself and raised his fists, narrowing his eyes as he focused on Jackson. Holden's mind was so fixated on his target that he flinched upon hearing a sudden interruption behind him.

"Hey kiddos! Are you two having fun beating each other to a pulp? Don't answer. I know you weirdos enjoy your playdates together even if you don't say as much." Melony popped her gum loudly and rested her arm around the shoulders of Carrie who stood by her side. As expected, Carrie's face provided the gloomiest of looks as her droopy eyes rolled in their socket. Her right hand held a cup of hot tea that she occasionally sipped from, closing her eyes in relief at the brief reprieve from insanity her drink offered. She lazily peeked over at Melony and let out a loud sigh.

"Melony, did you wake me up from my nap just so we could go bother these guys? I thought I told you not to disturb me when I'm sleeping unless it's an emergency."

Jackson took a step forward and postured himself upright, looking Melony directly in the eyes.

"Good morning to you Miss Melony. You're up early, is there anything we can help you with?"

"We? I never agreed to help that crazy lady with anyth-" Holden coughed as Jackson struck him in the ribs with an elbow.

"Okay, fine... I guess training can wait. What is it this time?" Holden rubbed his side and snuck a glare at Jackson before shifting his attention back to Melony.

"Oh, so you're receptive to what I've got to say? Wow... so sweet! Are you finally warming up to me, hm?" Melony faked a sniffle and wiped her eyes dramatically. She clasped her hands together and marched over to Holden before rubbing his head, to which he swatted her hand away.

"Don't push it. If you have something to say, just spit it out so we can get back to what we were doing."

"Well since you're so curious and eager, fine! I'll speed this up just for my favorite new recruit. Did I ever tell you that? You're EASILY the number one new member of-"

"I'm the only new member," Holden interjected. He took a gander at Carrie while she sipped her tea, and she returned his gaze with an "I get it" look plastered across her face.

"Does it matter?! That only makes it better. You're not only number one, but you're unrivaled as well. And don't you think for a second I haven't noticed your progress since arriving here, you're picking up things quickly aren't you?! Expanding your ability, learning about rituals, I guess the saying is true. They really do grow up so fast!" She pinched Holden's cheek in adoration. He promptly slapped away her hand this time as well, an annoyed breath releasing from his lungs.

"Hey Mel, I don't think you came here just to gush over him like this. You wanted to alert these two about the mission they're going on, right?" Carrie went for another drink from her cup, only to find it empty. She peeked inside and then positioned it over her head, trying to shake any spare droplets into her mouth. When nothing came out of it, she groaned before setting the cup down and laying beside it, closing her eyes and trying to resume her nap.

"Oh, so she WAS listening when I told her why we were coming here. Heh, I knew I brought her along for a reason. I get distracted easily, just kinda happens when there's so much cool shit going on. Man will that girl sleep anywhere... okay, anyway! You, Jackson, and Natasha are going out to an old fairground to investigate reports of strange creatures. Something about some cryptids that appear to be farm animals but not quite right. You know, your goat men and pig people. Maybe even a chicken where it's like... you know how chickens have legs?"

Melony paused and cupped her hand over her mouth in contemplation. When she found the words she was looking for, she briefly burst into laughter before continuing.

"Imagine if those legs were human arms instead, where they use the hand at the end to walk. I dunno if you'll actually find that, but I did once. Made for some delicious chicken nuggets."

Holden cleared his throat in an attempt to stifle a chuckle. Jackson nudged him in the ribs again, shooting him a look of disapproval.

"What? It sounds ridiculous..."

"It is ridiculous. And the chicken nuggets were horrible, Melony only liked them because she changed her taste buds." Carrie spoke softly as she began drifting to sleep. Despite nearing the borders of dreamland, her ears still remained receptive to Melony's bizarre ramblings.

"Well excuse me for cooking up some fine dining! Now come, young Skywalker. Walk with me."

The party exited the training facility leaving Carrie to lift herself up and drag along behind. Marching through the halls where white-coated walls presented numerous portraits and decorations, they arrived at the living room and found Natasha seated on a beige couch. She'd already packed her bags and, upon noticing her company, she waved with delight.

"Natasha actually suggested the three of you handle the threat yourselves, I figured it wouldn't be a bad idea to let you tag along. She and Jackson have experience after all, you'd do well to learn from them." Melony stretched her arms into the air and brought them down onto her knees. She crouched in front of Holden while her bright blue eyes sparkled with wonder. "Not only that, but I don't mind you guys taking some extra time after that to hang out. Should be cool if you avoid populated areas as best you can."

"Right, right. Now that I'm awakened, there's a chance I'll draw cryptids towards me. Doesn't that ever get lonely or boring," Holden inquired.

"Maybe for some. I never minded, and we've learned to enjoy our small group. I didn't take you as someone with a high social battery," Jackson retorted.

"Nothing like that... I was just curious. Hey, about me tagging along. Thanks for the opportunity Melony. I'm fine with it, but are you sure it's the best idea? What if I go back into that weird state of mind? Shouldn't I gain some control over that before I go out with others?"

Melony dismissively waved her hand and stuck out her tongue. She elongated her neck and allowed it to drift through the air like a serpent as it wrapped around Holden's shoulders.

"Blegh, you're a huge worrier. By my estimate you won't run into anything that'll trigger your lil weirdo mode. Can I call it that? You go all quiet and get violent and edgy... it's kinda adorable. Even if things do turn sour, Jackson and Natty can submit you just fine. They learned from the best after all."

Holden stepped to the side and allowed Melony's head to fall off his shoulders, retracting back to her body and returning to a normal length. Natasha approached him and showcased her phone screen, all the while she provided Holden with a supportive thumbs up.

"It won't be a problem! If you lose control, I'll be able to calm you with pheromones. I really want you to come and not feel inhibited by whatever danger you think you'd pose to us. When you come out with Jackson and I, you'll likely develop and learn a lot with how talented you are."

"That's a good idea, Natasha," Jackson spoke as he came to the forefront. "I think you should believe her, Holden. She's developed her skills to a level where even I trust her with my life. If she's confident it will be fine, take it as fact."

"Then it's settled! You'll leave tonight," Melony chirped. "Take only what's essential. Carrie will do you the honors of transporting you back to the outside world, won't you Carrie Beary?"

"So much transportation... I'm gonna need to hibernate after this," Carrie responded sluggishly, her voice drained like the sound was absorbed by a black hole.

"You'll have earned it you know! Now, Carrie and I have some business to attend to. And by that, I mean she promised to go to the movies with me this afternoon. She'll probably sleep through it but hey, it's the thought that counts."

"Oh right... I did agree with that. Why did I agree to that? Did you drug me? Whatever, let's go. Hope this flick isn't as violent as the last."

"It absolutely will be. We're gonna see so much blood and gore!"

"God damn it..."

The two waltzed away leaving Holden, Natasha, and Jackson to their lonesome. Following their departure, Holden glanced over at Natasha and presented her with a tiny smile.

"So you really do have that much confidence in me? Even after the first impression I must have given you. You’re pretty optimistic."

"It's all water under the bridge. Do you think I haven't ever been a jerk? Besides, you wouldn't be the first angsty guy I've met." She glimpsed at Jackson who turned his head in protest.

"Still, I should apologize. We weren't exactly honest with you or Melony about our intentions. And yes, Jackson is in on it. You see, we are going out to investigate what Melony said we would. But I asked her for additional time for another purpose."

"What are you trying to say," Holden replied, his eyebrow raising as his words dug for an answer.

"I'm saying there's a secondary purpose to our mission. Jackson and I... both have an interest in opposing those who enslave and abuse others. Hybrids like me have been hurt by those kinds of people for many years, but we aren't the only ones. Jackson told me he explained elements of his past to you. Children on their own with special abilities are also targets of greedy people... the point is that both groups of people who hurt us work in a market frequented by the Editor. Nobody knows a lot about him, but it's said many of the black market dealings are ultimately managed by him, and his will is enforced by small factions that operate under his authority."

"So after we finish with the mission Melony thinks we're dedicated to, we'll be moving in on our real target," Jackson added. "Natasha's scouts have intel on the time and place in which The Circus will pop up. They're a notorious group known for enslaving what they call freakish hybrids and making them perform. We get in there and confront their ringleader, and he may bring us closer to uncovering the identity and location of the Editor. Without him running things, the world will be a safer place for people like Natasha and I'll have a higher chance of finding Myles. If anyone knows where he is... it'll be him."

"Natasha's scouts?" Holden looked towards the girl, a tapestry of interest woven into his eyes.

"It's how our group gathers a lot of the intelligence we do. The wildlife speaks to me when I'm around. Even when I'm not, I can plant vegetation around the environment that communicates with the surrounding nature and telepathically delivers me information. They're like extensions of myself. You’d be surprised just how well it works. One tree can speak with an entire forest if given enough time." "So a spy network that spans across the world, disguised as plant life. That's creepy," Holden responded.

"It's useful," Jackson snapped.

"It's strange but necessary sometimes. That's how Melony and our group often uncover operations like this. I want to do this differently though. This time I want to go without her, without that guaranteed security blanket. Do you get what I mean?"

Holden nodded with understanding, the feeling of wanting to prove one's independence a familiar one to him.

"You want to lead the charge this time, prove her faith in you wasn't misplaced. Wait..." Holden turned towards Jackson, a thought rushing through his mind. "You're cool with this, keeping it a secret from Melony? Really?"

"Natasha has been through a lot and grown despite it. She's earned this. I didn't like it at first, but if we can't accomplish our goals without relying on Melony, we have no right to call ourselves worthy of her support, and we'll have failed ourselves."

Allowing for a few seconds to let what he’d heard marinate, Holden abruptly turned and began to walk away much to the surprise of the other two. Jackson placed his hand firmly on Holden's arm, holding him in place.

"Where are you going? We were still talking to y-"

"I've heard enough," Holden interrupted. He turned his head and peered into Jackson's eyes over his shoulder, using his free hand to brush his wavy hair out of his face.

"I'm going to get packed up, like Melony said. You two want to prove yourselves as strong enough on your own. So do I. If it benefits all three of us, then there's nothing more that needs to be said." Jackson released Holden from his grip and watched him leave. He faced Natasha and signed to her, remarking on the bluntness of their new ally. Natasha playfully poked him in the gut and reminded him of his own attitude, to which he admitted defeat with a huff and departed to his room, preparing his bags for the journey ahead.

(Chapter Twenty One: Of Monsters And Mice)

"How long have we got to stay in this musty-ass warehouse? The longer I sit here the more I hear the rats in the walls." A brunette woman outfitted in camouflage clothing and gear spoke up while inspecting the ruined wooden walls. Rodent feces aligned the floor at her feet like peppered coffee grounds spilled onto a table.

"It's only for the night Em. As soon as the sun rises, we'll be out of here. You know that, so stop complaining. Sides, we've gone through worse. Don't tell me you're gettin too old for this job." The retort was provided by a large man, similarly fashioned to match his companion. A torrent of rain pounded against the exterior metal sheeting, delivering a thunderous clatter to the buildings occupants.

"Yeah, I know. I just hate little nasty pests like that... they're so creepy. Hope this storm lets up soon. Don't know how anyone could expect us to sleep through this."

A lamp placed in the center of the room provided a comforting glow to an otherwise miserable atmosphere. Emily moved towards the light and hovered over it, orienting her hands near the surface to grasp for any morsel of warmth. Her teeth still trembled even after changing out of her initial pair of now-soaked clothing. After a while, she dug into the bag slung across her shoulder and pulled out a letter. Studying it closely, she cast an unamused expression in the direction of her comrade before returning the item to its place.

"This better be worth the trouble Jordan. I'm talkin about a payout I can retire on. Chasing these critters all over the country gets so... exhausting."

She released a subtle yawn as her shoulders slouched. Her tired eyes tracked the nigh-inaudible sound of a rat scurrying along the corner of the room. In its jaw it held the corpse of a mouse, its skull punctured as it dangled from the maw of its captor. The creature continued its pace before pausing and observing the shadows in front of it. From the darkness emerged a larger rat, one that dwarfed the other by comparison. The black beady eyes of the beast bore into its kin while it lunged upon its victim, mercilessly wrestling with its prey then turning it over and sinking its teeth into the soft underbelly.

"Jesus," Emily muttered under her breath.

At the same time, Jordan was occupied with setting up his sleeping bag. He tussled with the zipper for a while, finding trouble with it.

"The payout from the hunt is known to be high. Chill out for once won't you? We'll have a nice vacation somewhere in the snowy mountains. Log cabin with a warm fireplace and a big flatscreen TV. Now that... I'll be getting some sweet football watching done on that. Shit, maybe I can hang up some of the freaks on the wall. Some of the hairy ones could make for a fine pelt too."

Jordan chuckled as he envisioned his future. After finally winning the wrestling match he'd had with his sleeping bag zipper he wandered to the lamp light and greeted Emily with a smile.

"Huh, it is kinda warm. Nothing better than not having hypothermia huh," He said with a wink.

"I'd know better than you. I'll be happy if I never have to hunt Yeti's in the Himalayas again. Log cabin in the mountains is fine and all, but me personally? I'll be somewhere more tropical, shoot me a postcard."

"And who's meant to keep me in check? I'll tear shit up if left to my own devices, you know that," Jordan replied, a smirk unfolding across his face. He brushed back his wet hair with his hand, adjusting the strands away from his ears.

"By that you mean you never learned how to do your own laundry, never got around to doing the things your mother did for you. Get real," She responded with a roll of the eyes.

"Damn... that's a low blow. Think I'm gonna move on and not let myself get burned again. So... Want a marshmallow? I've got a few that aren't ruined. Momma taught me how to pack properly, that much I can say with my chest."

Having unveiled a plastic bag from his pouch, the two plucked several marshmallows out and began to chew. As the storm raged on and the trees and shrubbery shook, something stood out among the ruckus. Although hard to hear at first, a repeated thumping emerged from the front doors of the building.

"Wait, wait... do you hear that?" Emily stood alert, all the while Jordan leisurely pointed his head in the direction of the sound.

"Eh? Just the wind I imagine." Jordan nonchalantly popped another marshmallow into his mouth.

The pair froze as another set of knocks pounded against the front doors. This time the noise was more forceful, somehow drowning out the wind and rain that throttled the outside world. "Just the wind, right?"

Emily cautiously uttered each word as if they could be her last. The two of them felt their skin crawl as the hairs on their arms stood. Something awful forced itself into their consciousness, a sickening sense of dread that pushed through their body like a thousand hands crawling forward across a dirty floor. It was the ultimate invasion. One akin to forcing your finger inside an open flesh wound. A horrific entry that makes someone desperate to squirm and break free even as they're held down by cold leather straps.

The sensation was enough to make Emily gag. She gripped her throat while it tightened, weak coughs bursting from between her clenched teeth. To Jordan, the experience was tantamount to drowning. Terror pumped into his lungs like streams of mucus. If he'd got his leg caught and pulled under by the jaws of a shark, even that would pale in comparison to what he was currently confronted with. A burning pain in his chest, an unforgiving breach in his mind.

Then a third set of knocks came.

"Do... you feel that Jordan? It's...," Emily began, her voice a quivering mess when she spoke. Her eyes began to dart around now, every shadow appearing to her like an abyss she could suffocate in.

"Hatred. Violence. This kind of aura... it's the kind that clings to your skin and drips into your pores. The kind where you have to scrub your body for hours to remove it." Jordan slowly walked forward, his once calm demeanor replaced with uncertainty. He knew that something deadly lay on the other side of the door. The closer he got to the origin of his immense anxiety, the worse his nausea became.

With each step he took his heart beat faster. Not even the howling winds could distract him from the immense pressure popping in his ears. If Emily were talking he wasn't aware. He was encapsulated within a bubble of silence. His vision narrowed to only what was in front of him, and tearing his attention away was impossible. Like an image contained within a picture, he was captured by the design of something gnarly and impure.

When he arrived at the terrible set of doors and extended his hand to open them, a fourth knocking arrived. With them came the creak of the doors opening from the outside. A thick fog drifted in and swirled around Jordan's feet. Despite it all he remained perfectly still. Regardless of his quickening breathing the man became petrified while his eyes locked onto the enormous shadowy figure before him. An abnormally large pair of arms rushed forth from the darkness.

Only then did he scream.

Two hands grabbed Jordan's and began to pull in opposite directions. Skin and tissue tore down the middle while his bone cracked in the process. Blood poured from the split while his hand was further fractured. He roared in agony and tried to pull away from his aggressor to no avail. When the tear reached his wrist a chunk of bone split down his forearm under the force of his assailant. White shards pierced through his flesh and he finally found himself free from the grip of whatever vice held him.

"Jordan?!" Emily screeched from behind as Jordan leapt back. Tears poured from his eyes while he gazed upon the mauled meat that was his right arm. Emily looked up at the figure who committed such a vile act, a man of around eight feet in stature who wore a black vest. His face was hidden behind an old stained hockey mask. All that could be seen of his facial features were the lifeless eyes.

"Fuck, my fucking hand! He ruined my fucking hand!" Jordan clutched at the mangled limb with rage and agony blazing within him. He gritted his teeth to the point of chipping them while bits of skin dangled in the air and blood dripped to the ground.

"It's... Oh God it's him!" Emily's exclamation was quickly followed up with action as she rushed forth.

Her jaw unhinged and her mouth widened to unreal proportions, the interior lined with row after row of teeth. With it, she could ingest nearly any object and also make use of the things she has swallowed. Her stomach acted much like an alternate dimension where she could deposit and withdraw items depending on their relevance to a situation. Hundreds of rounds of ammunition spewed from her lips in the direction of the towering behemoth, the bullets impacting his frame and doing little to move him.

Jordan knelt down and primed his legs for another leap. With incredible force he flung himself in the direction of their foe, delivering a strong kick into the side of its head that could rattle even the sturdiest of buildings. The attack hardly shifted the target's neck, to which Jordan responded by throwing himself to the ground and extending his tongue at blinding speeds. It whipped around the legs of the opponent and, with a hefty swivel of his head, Jordan tried to interfere with the enemy's balance. Once more his offensive was deemed fruitless against the invulnerable wall of power up against him.

"He's toying with us damn it! Conventional attacks won't work on him, they never do," Emily exclaimed.

With little choice, Emily decided to employ a ritual. Through developing the terms and conditions in her head she cast aside the strength and elasticity of her jaw which allowed her to consume people and objects in the first place. In exchange, the power of what she spat from her mouth grew in potency. It was with this decision that the steel cables she threw up punctured the arms and legs of the vested man she'd aimed them at. Hardened and sharpened beyond their typical capacity the metal ripped through his supernaturally strong flesh and bone, binding him to the walls.

Realizing her strategy Jordan similarly activated a ritual through forfeiting his frog-like agility and leg power. In response, the stickiness and grip strength of his tongue were amplified exponentially, and he entangled the opponent's throat with it. With sheer wrath he pulled in the opposite direction aiming to break the neck of his foe, if not outright tear his head from his shoulders.

The vested man stood still and uncaring, unamused by the tactics of his prey. He strained his muscles and with a tug, his raw power overcame even the cables that had surpassed their limits. He grabbed hold of Jordan's tongue and pulled him close, wrapping his fingers around the man's chin. Jordan's cries were muffled as he gagged on his blood, his once stable jaw now crumpled within the hand of his attacker. The vested man pushed his foot into Jordan's leg and caved the bone in, causing another flesh-penetrating fracture near his shin.

Although the hobbled Jordan tried to limp away, he was offered no mercy as his own tongue was wrapped around his throat. Emily's eyes widened and with limited options and time, she rapidly fired several tranquilizer darts. Though the darts struck true and were capable of putting an elephant to sleep, they had no effect in the slightest. The monster they were up against seemed immune to any phenomena that would try to slow him.

To Emily's horror, their attacker revealed a large hunting knife and began to saw at Jordan's neck. Jordan only resisted at first before he went limp and could only gurgle incoherently. Within moments his body fell to the ground with a thud and the man lifted Jordan's decapitated head above him, blood and strands of meat falling and slapping against his hockey mask.

"JORDAN!" Emily screamed his name with unfiltered hatred. She snatched the lamp from the ground and positioned it near her lips. Given the ritual she engaged in prior, her ability to easily and efficiently digest what she ate was reduced drastically. Even still, she didn't care. She didn't care as she bit down on the glass, she didn't care as she swallowed and felt her throat peel and tear and bleed. She didn't care as the hot bulb traveled down her esophagus and scorched her from within.

The vested man began to slowly walk towards her, knife in hand. With the former ritual still in effect, Emily opened her mouth and a heavy stream of fire encompassed the entire body of her object of vengeance, its heat dwarfing even the worst volcanic eruptions. The smell of burning flesh quickly imposed itself upon Emily's nose, yet she still didn't care. She continued to deliver her flame even as burn marks littered her neck.

The blast only stopped as the man emerged from the flame and swiped his blade across her stomach. The gash was deep and wide, and he dug his fingers into her gut with unadulterated force and ripped several feet of her insides out. Emily vomited immediately and fell, her head bouncing off the hard floor.

Emily reached forward and tried to crawl away. She threw out a shrill cry as her executioner stabbed his knife through her entrails that now lay on the ground with such force that the edge sunk into the concrete. The more she moved, the further she was separated from the guts that were continuously ripped from her. Her eyes fluttered, her suffering too taxing to even comprehend. Only when her skull was popped under the crushing weight of the monstrous man's foot did her torment end.

Finally satisfied, the man approached his victim's bags and rummaged through them. He paused upon finding an envelope and after opening it he was greeted with an invitation letter. The contents were short, containing only an address and a signature.

"From Yours Truly, The Circus."

(Character Extras Number Two)

"I know, I wouldn't expect me to have the key to your locked door. I was just saying, Holden. Our paths aren't identical, but they're both terribly difficult, I'm sure. All I mean is, you've already come this far, as have I. Whether the roadblocks ahead get harder or easier to climb over, I think you'll climb over them just fine. Miss Melony believes in you, and if she does, then so do I. She has good judgment, even if it's a little hard to see that all the time. For your goals, there's no better place to be than here. Though some of us like Jackson and Carrie don't show it well, they do care. They just have their own issues and personalities. You'll get along just fine, I promise."

Natasha is her name, but her friends called her Natty! She’s a seventeen year old girl with a passion for nature. Although short in stature, her physical ability and mental fortitude is where she truly shines. Her quickness of movement and perception aids her allies and impresses her foes at the same time. Hosting a love for animals and the wild in general, she spends her time viewing nature documentaries and interacting with local wildlife.

Ability Name: Natura Harmonia

Description: The areas of her body that grow plant-life can be used in a variety of ways, from releasing emotion-altering pheromones to sprouting poisonous fungi. On top of this, she appears capable of altering vegetation around her via connecting to them with roots that emerge from her feet. She has a mystifying connection to animals, but only ever indulges in this ability to befriend them.

—

“I still think you'll die sooner than later, and you still shouldn't get your hopes up and think anyone will mourn you for long after you're gone. At the very least though, I know you aren't the type to leave my comrades... our comrades... to die. If that's true, then for your sake and theirs, we can spar in the future. The way you approach it is ultimately up to you."

Jackson may be blunt and rude, but his care for his comrades runs deeper than most would suspect. This twenty year old hybrid found safety and comfort in Melony’s care after the kidnapping of his brother, Myles. Since then, he’s sworn that as a big brother, he’ll do whatever it takes to find and rescue his beloved sibling. He won’t stand for anyone that gets in his way or tries to hurt the ones he loves. The suffering he’s endured has only strengthened his mind and cemented his resolve.

Ability name: Unseen Ambush

Description: When he is not in direct line of sight, Jackson can freely move into blind spots and behind obstructions at nigh-impossible speeds. This condition is surprisingly easy to meet during the chaos of combat, and becomes significantly deadlier once he’s gained momentum. The range limit is as follows; so long as he can see the location he wishes to go to, he’ll travel there rapidly.

—

"I've dragged you all through over to this side, I expect that I can go back to doing nothing. The phone never rings anyway, is it even connected to anything? Well, either way, those two have been waiting for your return, Melony. Go say hello to them, or do you want me to also be a babysitter on top of being your transportation and secretary?"

The name “Scary Carrie” wasn’t her choice, it was thrust upon her by Melony! At the very least, her glaring eyes would be an adequate substitute for a scarecrow. Plant her outside and her demeanor and look would terrify even the most brave crows. She spends her time lounging around behind her desk, ignoring the phone that will likely never ring. With a deep appreciation for chewing gum and silence, she’d rather listen to music on her own that converse with anyone. Though she’d never vocally admit it, Carrie does hold some interest in Melony’s antics and goals.

Ability Name: Reflective Summoning

Description: Being a hybrid with deep attunement to rituals, she’s created a means of transportation into a separate realm using her power. Should someone follow the ritual’s procedures, she’ll decide upon letting them through or not by warping them into the time space she resides in.

—

"It will sound silly but... I wanted to tell you that you're one of the best people I've met. I know it's a weird thing to just say but I mean it. Your powers, your energy, the way nature seems to love you... I don't know. I'm really glad I met you. And I want to be as wonderful as you, you know?"

Bella is a timid girl who wants to make friends and enjoy her life. Although her parents met a horrible fate in her past, she tries not to let it define her or hold her back from developing relationships with others. Even with her past in mind Bella holds a fascination and admiration for the abilities of others different from her. Especially if the powers she witnesses can be considered beautiful and mystifying.

Ability Name: Sorrowful Blessing

Description: When her tears interact with an injury or ailment, the affliction is healed in a short period of time. Bella has found it easy to connect with her emotions and draw her tears in moments of great sadness, not wishing to see those she wants to protect and help be hurt.

—

"You fucking shit bloods are all the same. Always trying to take what's precious away from us. There's no difference between you and those mindless beasts we rightfully hunt. First, your kind took me and my poor little sister's parents away from us. You have no idea what it was like, finding their bodies mangled and ruined by some freak just like you! And now, you're trying to take away the family I have left. Pops was right about you animals. You fucks are all like this."

Being Bella’s older brother, Dean felt responsible for looking after her when their parents died. He grew a strong resentment towards the world and the hybrids who remind him of his parents’ killer. Despite his best efforts to bottle up his hatred within, he unleashes his anger when confronted with Hybrids who look different in appearance, even when they pose little threat to him. Dean feels that his father’s warnings of the “freaks” have been vindicated, and dedicates himself to consolidating power and moving forward in life as he believes his father would have wanted him to.

Ability Name: ???

Description: ???

—

"You need to become strong. As strong as you can possibly be. Something terrible will arrive. Something from thousands of years ago, if not longer, is returning like a plague. The most unstoppable cryptid to have ever existed, a creature of apocalyptic power, and it will bring death and terror with it. Millions will lose their lives, and millions more will be subjugated to fates worse than death, all happening as it turns this world to ash. This thing knows no empathy, no mercy. It exists only to impose its ultra-violence onto every living thing. To establish its supremacy atop the food chain, with all things beneath it mattering less than the dirt. To it, blood and rot is its birthright. To it, disaster and ruin is its euphoria."

There is little information known about the shadowy figure that spoke to Holden during his sleep paralysis episode. How it entered the dimension and contacted Holden without notice is a mystery, one almost as dark and intimidating as his warning. He believes that someday a great evil will come and Holden may be necessary in stopping it, though whether this warning is credible remains to be seen.

Ability Name: ???

Description: ???

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