Any other time, Muldoon would have complained about the acrid smell permeating the water treatment plant. But after the long day and night fighting for his life, he was too exhausted to care.
He briefly wondered how the smell must affect Ruld and Lou, with their sharper senses.
After Elior’s death, they got just a few minutes to breathe, until the last goons in the facility had made themselves known. However, they didn’t try for a direct conflict. Instead, they resorted to starting small fires across the building.
They moved fast, and took down the five culprits that were setting the fires, aided by the white cat lady. Jocasta had escorted her to the security station of the complex, and there, the cat helped to monitor and track the movement of the enemy predators. That was what helped the DAIR teams to finally eradicate those stragglers.
After that, the Eastern fire-crews had done their job, hosing down the worst of it. But, even now, one hour later, steam still rose in thin, ghostlike sheets from the scorched section of the building.
They’d won.
That was the official word.
Their enemy slain. Officially. But those were just the small fries following in the wake of the big threat. Varro hadn't stepped here. There was no chance the hostages would have that one pass. And they later got a message through their terminals informing them that the moose had been spotted at the Central Market, using an underground route to move.
Jocasta had raged at that.
Everyone gave her space, except for Joel. Those two looked like old friends.
Muldoon and some of the enforcers guided the rescued hostages outside. Ruld and Lou, both intimidating due to their size, stood apart from it all.
Not because anyone told them to, but because whenever they stepped closer people flinched. Civilians wrapped in emergency blankets shrank back.
Muldoon wouldn’t fault them. They had been traumatized. Most had seen someone they knew get eaten, or taken apart. And the larger predators triggered more of that fear.
It was the size.
It was always the size. The same size that could offer protection.
Ruld folded his arms across his chest and stayed near the edge of the parking lot, half in shadow. He told Muldoon that it was to keep an eye on things. To make sure no one bolted, no one lashed out.
Two vans from different news stations had arrived and were transmitting live to the rest of the city.
Needless to say, some of the enforcers elected themselves to shield the traumatized staff from the reporters. These were bold, shouting questions, and trying to capture footage from the line of people being treated by first responders.
Finally, rescue buses arrived.
The buses hissed as their doors opened. Survivors were counted and guided up the steps. Reassured in tired voices that this was an evacuation and not an arrest. Medical teams moved along the line, checking burns, wrapping bandages.
“Brother, the extra-hazard pay we get because of an active mission will taste so sweet at the end of the month,” Muldoon said, elbowing the large rhino.
“Glad you can see a positive thing out of this mess,” Ruld grunted. He wore a tired expression.
“You gotta find one. Else you go crazy,” Muldoon shifted his gaze to the place where Jocasta and Joel were talking while sitting on a concrete block, far from them. “But I hope it takes a long while until we get a repeat from today.”
“Who said that it ended?”
“Touché, Mr. Grumpy Pants.”
The plastered forced smile on his face didn’t reduce the ache he was feeling.
It wasn’t physical. Not really. It was a dull pressure behind the eyes, the kind that came from holding too much in and having nowhere to put it. The sound of the explosion replayed in his head anyway. The way the floor had jumped. The way Elior’s voice had cut off mid-sentence.
One moment there. The next — gone.
Death doesn’t announce itself. It just… arrives.
“You’re smiling like a sociopath,” Ruld said.
“I’m fine,” Muldoon replied, his mask breaking a little.
Ruld exhaled through his nose. “We did what we came to do. And I can’t feel great. I wish this was more rewarding.”
“Yes,” Muldoon agreed. “I hope the guys going into the tunnels under the borough get luckier tracking down the moose. At least we dealt with the pests he brought along.”
Ruld’s jaw tightened. He watched another group of survivors board the bus, eyes wide, shoulders hunched. None of them met his gaze.
“They’re scared of me,” he said, quieter.
Muldoon followed his line of sight. He didn’t sugarcoat it. “Some of them, yeah.”
“That’s not fair,” Ruld muttered.
“No,” Muldoon said calmly. “It isn’t. But it’s also not about you.”
Ruld huffed. “Doesn’t stop it from feeling like it is.”
Muldoon shifted his weight, “Hey, brother. I’m not your boyfriend to keep jerking off your ego. You and I know that you helped to save those people. And both of us are dead tired. Maybe keep the brooding for later.”
Ruld didn’t answer.
“Come on, remember the docks? Those freaky jumps you made?” Muldoon continued. “No hesitation. No freezing. You didn’t think about how big you looked. You just acted. And if you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have gotten to Jocasta in time. We wouldn’t have accomplished the work here. So high chance all those suckers climbing onto the bus would be dead.”
Ruld swallowed.
“That doesn’t change what they see now,” he said.
Muldoon glanced at him sidelong. “No. But it changes what you do with it.”
Ruld frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Muldoon sighed, long and tired. “It means you’re standing here, pretending you don’t notice the way you’re holding yourself apart. Like if you stay still enough, life won’t ask anything else of you tonight.”
Ruld bristled. “I’m allowed to want to go home.”
“You are,” Muldoon said gently. “But that’s not what this is. For fuck’s sake. You never joined the after-shift happy hour. You don’t go to the outings the guys from centrals organize. I had to trick you into going to Misha’s barbecue last month.”
He gestured with his chin toward the buses. Toward the medics. Toward the scorch marks on the concrete.
“People died tonight. One of ours. And it shook you. It shook me. It’s ok for you to stay away from biased regulars. No one’s gotta hear crap after being a goddamn hero. But I wanna make sure you won’t isolate yourself from the rest of us.”
Ruld’s voice came out rough. “You called me a hero. Then why does it feel like I’m failing at something?”
Muldoon turned fully toward him now. “Because you keep postponing your life.”
The words landed as heavy as the explosion that took Elior.
Ruld stared at him. “That’s not…”
“It’s exactly what you are doing,” Muldoon interrupted. “You gotta enjoy life as much as you can. I got my wife waiting for me back home, but what about you, man?”
Ruld went still.
Muldoon’s voice stayed even, but there was steel under it now. “Look at Elior. I bet he had plans for tomorrow. Maybe family. I have no idea. Didn’t get to talk too much with the guy after we met these guys from Eastern. But we have been partners since my transfer from Murialta, and I want to make sure you will be ok.”
The last of the survivors boarded the bus. The doors hissed shut. Engines rumbled to life.
Muldoon softened his tone. “You don’t get to decide when death shows up. Elior didn’t. The workers from the water plant. The people at the docks, none of them did.”
Ruld looked down at his hands.
“So what,” he asked, and his voice was a bit aggressive. “I’m supposed to just… stop waiting?”
Muldoon gave a tired, knowing smile. “I’m saying if tonight shook something loose in you, don’t shove it back down and call that strength. That cat said you had some ugly stories involving your ex. Are you really going to let one bad sucker mess up the rest of your life? Really? Same guy that power-jumped through explosions?”
The bus pulled away, red taillights fading into the dark.
“I don’t even know where to start,” the rhino admitted.
Muldoon chuckled softly. “Good. Means you’re finally being honest, and I dunno either, but do something!”
Ruld was quiet for a long moment. The kind of quiet Muldoon had learned meant he was on the verge of something, the one he shouldn’t push against.
Eventually the rhino exhaled through his nose. A low, tired sound.
“I think I’ll stay behind a little longer,” Ruld said.
Muldoon arched his brow. “Thought you wanted to go home too after this. Our shift will be over in a couple hours.”
“I do want to go home,” he inhaled and looked away. Fingers squeezing a piece of packing from the lunch Morty bought them. “Just… not yet.”
His eyes tracked the buses vanishing into the dark. Then to the wrecked silhouette of the plant, and finally to where Jocasta still stood near Joel, her posture tighter now. Focused.
“Someone’s going to have to check what’s left in there. Make sure nothing got missed.”
Muldoon gave a slow nod. “That someone doesn’t have to be you.”
Ruld was quiet for a long moment. facing away from the wolf.
“I didn’t lose something good,” he said finally. “With Rocco. The guy I dated.”
Muldoon glanced at him, giving the rhino more time.
“I lost time.”
He rolled one shoulder, the motion stiff. “Rocco didn’t teach me what love was supposed to feel like. He made me happy, at first. Then he started trying to ‘improve’ me. Make me better. Always going on about my potential.”
“Fuck. Helicopter parents are a nuisance. No one needs a helicopter boyfriend.”
“Yeah. He made me feel small. I swear I’ll punch you if you make a joke about that,” the rhino said as he saw a smirk on the wolf’s lips.
Muldoon sagely didn’t interrupt.
“And now,” Ruld continued, voice low, controlled, “every time something good gets close, my body reacts like it’s a trap. Like I just haven’t figured out where it’ll hurt yet.”
“You can’t waste away your life,” Muldoon said, putting a hand on the rhino’s back. “If you think about it, this cold feet that you are having… that’s also making you lose time.”
“I know,” Ruld exhaled sharply. “That’s on me. But it didn’t start with me.”
The buses were gone now. Just empty asphalt, damp concrete, and the fading echo of engines.
Muldoon nodded once. “Honestly. That explains a lot aboutyour reactions.”
Ruld’s gaze drifted, unfocused. “Morty scares me.”
Muldoon huffed softly. “Because he makes you feel smaller too?”
“No,” Ruld said immediately. “Because he looks at me like I’m allowed to take up space. Like I don’t have to earn being wanted. Bah! I understand he’s ok with me. But he knows me as Ruld, the enforcer from work. What if when he gets to know me, he finds me lacking?”
Muldoon clicked his tongue.
“Listen. You might not need to earn being wanted. But you also can’t just think that is a given, or take it for granted. If I try that with my wife, take her for granted, I’d get divorce paper shoved up my ass.”
Ruld winced.
“I keep telling myself I’ll talk to him later. When things calm down. When I’m… better.” His mouth twisted. “Funny thing is, I’ve been saying that for months.”
Muldoon shifted closer, voice gentler now. “And tonight?”
Ruld looked back at the building. He straightened, shoulders squaring. Just enough.
“I’m not ready,” Ruld admitted. “But I’m done pretending that’s the same thing as not wanting it.”
Muldoon clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Good. Better than to keep holding your breath on the matter.”
=================================
Jocasta was tired. So, so tired.
She watched a long time friend die in front of her, and her unit’s rookie got mangled. Today wasn’t a good day. So she had used all her rage hunting down the last member of Varro’s crew across the water treatment.
Now she could admit that her haste almost cost her life. But results are results. And they tracked and killed the last five.
That should have been enough.
She couldn’t change what had happened. The only thing that she could do from here on out was to learn from the experience, move forward, and try to keep it from happening again.
Straightening, Jocasta exhaled as if to rid herself of the guilt.
Lou nodded at her and kept position far from the buses where the workers were boarding.
Even if the lizard had a foul mouth, he was a decent guy, and offered words of support. Was by her side at the mad hunt that took place after and now was offering space. Although she knew part of that was also because the bigger predators usually scare regulars. That was also why Ruld was a good distance away.
As the survivors entered the bus to be taken to the regional hospital, she decided to vent, going to sit next to Joel on a low concrete barrier nearby.
The other feline wasn’t much taller than her. More muscular, yes. But he didn’t have the dense packed muscular fibers she had. She had won several armwrestles between the two. Even so, he had tons of experience, more than anyone here.
Not all predators get specific powers from their genes. She didn’t have anything special. Skill, strength, the basic Panacea effect. Some slightly higher regeneration speed than most predators. The only thing special about Jocasta was how little sleep she needed. About two hours a day, or three when she was very tired.
Joel on the other hand. He was what some called a Mathusalem.
People weren’t sure where the term came from. Something from way before the city-states, before the empire. Back from the dark times.
He’d been there when her grandfather joined.
He’d trained her mother.
And when Jocasta first showed up at the academy, furious and grieving and too stubborn to quit, he’d been there too.
Joel had always been there.
The lynx once confessed he wasn’t sure how old he was. Over two hundred based on his memory regarding some historical events. But he couldn’t pinpoint the date. Yet, there were at least two other Mathusalems in the city. She, however, never got a chance to meet any of those.
“You’re grinding your teeth,” he said mildly.
Jocasta blinked and forced her jaw to relax. “Didn’t notice.”
“Most people don’t,” Joel replied. “Doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”
She grumbled and grabbed her weapon, holding it on top of her knees as she unpacked maintenance materials from her backpack. “This wasn’t supposed to go like this.”
“No,” Joel agreed. “It rarely does.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Joel took out a small metal flask from his vest and opened it. The booze had a sweet scent, but he never drank anything light. The lynx took a swig and offered it to Jocasta.
She huffed a humorless laugh. “That’s your idea of comforting?”
Joel smiled faintly. “Wasn’t meant to be. You’re ways past the training, and you never liked being coddled. I just want to share a drink with my sister in arms.”
Jocasta rolled her eyes and had a small sip. It burned all the way down her stomach, where it settled, warm and heavy.
They sat in silence for awhile. Radios crackled while she cleaned her weapon of grime and blood. Someone laughed too loud near the command truck, the sound sharp with relief and nerves. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness, a steady, almost mocking rhythm.
“I keep replaying it,” Jocasta said finally. “The timing. The explosion. The way everything lined up just wrong enough to make us think we were safe, just to lower our guard and Elior died.”
Joel’s gaze stayed forward. “That’s survivor math.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Trying to find a clean equation where none exists,” he said. “You change one variable in your head and convince yourself the outcome could’ve been different.”
She swallowed. “Couldn’t it?”
“Listen to me, Jo.”
Her eyes flicked to his face. No one called her Jo except Joel. Not even her mother had used that name
“Thinking like that is dangerous.” Joel turned his head then, slow and deliberate. “Listen to me, kiddo, and you listen well. You learn from the crap life throws at you. No extra mystery there, I just lived long enough to learn several lessons, and lucky enough to survive them. Trust me when I say this, things aren’t done yet. Sure, this place is clear. But not the threat that Varro represents. You can’t let yourself fall apart. I was in your shoes more than I’d like to be. You gotta keep moving forward. And if you start to doubt yourself, you’ll freeze when it’s important and then more people will die.”
Jocasta looked down at her gloves. One of them was scorched at the fingertips. She hadn’t noticed when it happened.
“This,” she said quietly. “This organization. It doesn’t feel like it did when I signed on. When my mother was still active.”
Joel shook his head and smiled grimly.“Because it isn’t.”
That made her look up. “You feel it too.”
“Yes,” he said. “Pressure doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it just… accumulates. There is a reason I like to be on the fringes of the city and not working on the Precinct itself. And now… that fucker pretending to be chief is messing up… I wouldn’t be surprised if this keeps up he will suffer a home-accident and die.”
The inflection was there.
Jocasta sucked in a breath. She was annoyed and, yes, she contemplated storming the precinct after reading some of the messages the guys from her unit were forwarding her.
Being short staffed is one thing. But deliberately benching some units, just for political games? Not caring about the impact that would cause on the people in the field? Risking their lives?
What Joel said was criminal. Yet, she could live with it and sleep very well.
Yeah. She would like that.
Joel’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened. “When institutions get old, they either learn how to bend and adapt — or they crack.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“You and your mom are the same, you know?” he said, chuckling. “You both expect me to be this warm guy and I sure am not.”
Jocasta folded her arms. “I don’t know who to trust anymore. Every time I think I understand the rules, someone moves the goalposts. At least I can trust you being the grumpy old grandpa figure nobody really likes but still gives good advice.”
Joel studied her for a long moment. “Do you know why I’m still here?”
She blinked. “Because you’re impossible to get rid of?”
A low chuckle rumbled out of him. “That too.”
Then he grew serious, pressing a thumb against his lower lip the way he did sometimes when he was thinking. He looked old, which was fair. He was old. Ancient even. But there was always that spark of sarcasm and joke even when he was being serious. Now, he looked tired. Not physically, more like soul-tired.
Jocasta knew the expression too well. The face of a man that wanted to rest, and knew he couldn’t.
“I stayed because people like you keep showing up,” Joel said. “And because when things start shifting behind curtains, someone needs to remember what it looked like before.”
She felt something tighten in her chest. “And what did it look like before?”
“Messy,” Joel said. “Believe me, I don't want things to go back to what they were. Still, it felt closer to the ground. Fewer shadows. Isn’t that interesting?”
“I’m not sure I’m following,” Jocasta said, tilting her head.
“In the old days, with none of this technology that you younger generations kept creating, there was less maneuver space. Yes, things were slower, and yes, I don’t like thinking about how tyrannical the men from the Emperor’s army were. But, you could spot the evil a mile away, here… the evil got diluted in banalization, and disregard. It’s tricker to spot. All these extra protections that we constructed, they just cast shadows that people can hide more easily.”
“One could argue that, with the cameras and terminals, information travels faster. Shouldn’t that make it harder to hide the dirt?”
Joel snorted while taking another gulp, before putting his flask back into his vest. “You sure?. Then how come the alpha showed in the city without no one noticing. Where is he? How did Kai maneuver so many captains to the sidelines and it took so long until people noticed. Where are our top hats?”
“You can stop now,” Jocasta grumbled. “You made your point.”
They again lapsed into silence, watching the buses start their engines and drive away. Joel squinted at his terminal, making faces as he read messages from his unit.
“Do you need company when you head to the precinct?” Joel finally asked.
“Not really. I’m going to try to get in and out. Two captains going at the same time always ruffles some feathers. With some luck, technicians can recover something from what is left of that gas mask, or from the terminals the other predators had with them.”
“Good. Remember to ask for help if you need to.”
“I will. Gotta head back to my own unit and try to make sure everything is in order. Clem won’t be back, or Raye. Hopefully no more incidents tonight.”
“Gods hear you.” the lynx said, sounding pleased.
“I really want to go and grab that smug Kai and bring him to the Public Market, and make him face the moose by himself. That ought to teach him a thing or two.”
“Really smart. Considering that the few enforcers that went there must be crapping their pants, it’s an excellent idea to sneak down there with a bunch of scared people with guns and a massive predator.”
She huffed and bumped shoulders with him.
“I said I want to do that. Not that I’m going to.”
Joel waved it off. “I won’t hold it against you. I just look calm because I have come across my fair share of imbeciles in positions of power they had no business being in.”
“I remember you telling me stories from fighting monsters like Varro when I was a kid and mom would bring me back to the unit. Did you really face more of those?”
Joel’s fur puffed and he looked to the ground. His ears dipping, hands closing into tight fists.
“Yes. Yes, I did,” he said, staring into the distance. He took so long, Jocasta thought he wouldn’t speak anymore, but then he continued. “I remember a thing, not sure the kind of anthro it was. Too deformed, and it was the middle of the night. Killed half the regiment I was part of. Bigger than Varro. About 20 feet tall.”
Jocasta whistled..
“How did you fight off something like that?”
“At great cost,” there was no mirth in his voice. Instead, she felt something like reverence of all things. “There was this woman… shit I forgot her name. She was the daughter of some noble figure head, and was leading the guard that night. Nobles were jerks and cowards. Not her. She baited the thing, and made it follow her into one of the towers from the castle. Exploded it with gunpowder. Got herself and the thing killed.”
Jocasta was impressed. “How long ago was that?”
“About one hundred and fifty years ago. Give or take. After that, I saw the destruction some of the alphas leave behind as the Emperor sent us around on missions. They killed and moved, then hid. That was one of the reasons, back them, we used the term abyssal ones when speaking about the alphas.”
Jocasta looked at her gun.
“I cannot fathom how any of you survived them. They sound more like cataclysmic plagues,’ she mused
“Well… that’s not far from reality. Back then we had relied on swords, ambushes and of course canons. Clunky things, but very effective.”
“All men like to play with big toys.”
“They had their time, but I’m very happy with our current weaponry.” The lynx chewed on his lip for a second, glancing at the water treatment plant. “You know, back in the age of myths, they said the abyssal ones were monsters hunting in groups, and their hunger turned one against the other, forcing them to become solo hunters.”
“The age of mythos had that name because it’s that, lots of speculation and old wives tales to scare kids.”
“Might be,” Joel rebuked without heat. “But the thing is. For hundreds of years, the alphas were solo predators, showing up to cause destruction and vanishing for a while. Haven’t heard of them having a retinue of other predators with them.”
“Yeah, and now the fuckers are dead for following that thing around . Good riddance.” Jocasta said. “But you reminded me about last night. I was at the tail end, before Varro vanished into the river. He took a grenade to the chest. Sure he walked it off, but it hurt him. Enough for him to devour one of his own.
The lynx turned at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Okay?”
“I’m going to grab some grenade launchers. Perhaps you guys should start carrying it on your cruisers. It has been part of the armory since the Bone Famine, but no one really uses them because they are so bulky.”
“I didn’t even remember we had those. I’ll ring my unit and ask them to run a little maintenance. The last thing you’d want is something jamming and it detonating in your face.”
Jocasta cringed. She had to also ask her technicians to check the one back at her unit’s armory.
=================================
The tunnels beneath Endom were old — dating back to the Empire, maybe older.
Captain Louie had entered that maze of meandering corridors thinking he was about to be a hero. Hours of marching through flooded make-like corridors and the oppressive stink of rot had killed all his enthusiasm.
Cold water splashed around the old jackal's boots, the flashlight beam attached to his rifle dancing along curved walls slick with moss and centuries of filth. Humid, stale air pressed against his lungs. No proper airflow down here. Only the omnipresent sound of running water and the rasping breath of his team filled the silence.
Louie had his second-in-command, Lieutenant Maer, and eight others enforcers. People he wasn’t used to work with and that were appointed by Kai. He forgot most their names already. As a precinct Captain, he was in charge of overseeing a great number of enforcers. But they were not from his roster. He only did regular field work with Maers, who was skilled but didn’t ascend the ranks because of his tendency of being too aggressive with the civilians.
They were all going to die down here, weren't they?
Part of him had been afraid of that from the start. His brain feeding mental pictures of the rain picking back up, flushing these halls, drowning them in a torrent. Historically, these drains never got fully submerged. Yet the fear lingered, cold and persistent.
Hours had passed since they'd descended.
The constant tension of scanning every corner, every shadow, made it feel far longer. Carefully they trudged on, trying not to alert the monster they were hunting in the dark.
At first, Louie had jumped at the opportunity.
He didn't lead any unit like some of the fringe captains. He was just placed on the Precinct's roster — a name on a list. Doing this for the Commander would put his name out there. Being the hero instead of those backwards captains with their border units and their glory. That's what might finally get him his own squad to lead.
Five hours later, he regretted everything.
But giving up wasn't on the table. They would be here until they got the order to fall back or their shift ended and someone came to replace them on the hunt.
Worse yet would be hours of effort for nothing. This had to count for something. His ticket to a better life depended on it.
The tunnels began to hum.
Faint vibrations skittered across the water's surface, reaching them before sound. Louie felt the tremble in his chest, his jaw. That feeling of something massive crashing against stone, shaking the world.
Then came the unmistakable sound of violence.
Not gunfire. Not explosives. Something heavy and bestial that made the walls rumble. A bellow that did not belong to any natural being echoed through the dark.
Maer shifted beside him, ears flat. "That's him," the zebra whispered. "It has to be."
"Or something worse," Louie muttered, but he didn't lower his weapon.
They advanced.
Further ahead the tunnel opened into a vast cistern chamber.
High above, the ceiling arched like the inside of a cathedral. Dozens of cracked columns rose from dark water, supporting rusted catwalks and collapsed maintenance scaffolds. Air here tasted even older, as if fermented, thick with rot and rust and something metallic that made Louie's hackles rise.
At the center of the chamber, lying in stagnant water, was Varro.
The alpha moose.
Fourteen feet of muscle and madness. Blood matted his flank. His clothing was even more ragged than they had been on the recording from the fight at the docks. His powerful chest struggled to catch breath. One of his antlers was missing.
Then he roared and jumped to his feet, swinging his arms madly.
They had walked into a fight. Varro was losing.
Three figures surrounded him.
In the dim dark, Louie first mistook them for columns.
None was smaller than the moose.
Hulking, wrong, grotesque in ways that made Louie's stomach twist. Their bodies were humanoid but distorted, the proportions not quite right. Muscles rippling beneath matted fur and scarred flesh. They moved with a predator's grace, utterly unconcerned with the moose struggling between them.
All three wore gas masks.
Bulky, reinforced things with oversized filters. The red tint of the masks’ lenses giving them the aspect of demons.
It felt like they were just toying with the moose.
The first was a massive bear with dark fur matted with grime, arms like tree trunks that could almost touch the ground even when he stood. He held Varro from behind, one enormous paw clamped around the moose's throat, the other pinning both of Varro's arms behind his back. The bear's maw hung open, drool dripping into the water as he forced the moose to his knees.
Circling like a ghost, a tigress stepped closer. Stripes distorted by scars and strange metallic implements embedded in flesh. Sleek, fast, impossibly fluid, she slashed Varro across the ribs with claws that glinted silver in the dim light, and the moose bellowed in agony.
The third…
Louie's mouth went dry.
Enormous beyond reason, a boar trudged through the water with implacable weight. Tusks filed to brutal points, gleaming with a metal coat. His eyes were black pits, empty and ancient. He was the wider of the three, and each step caused a rumble.
The boar stepped closer to Varro and backhanded him across the face with enough force to crack stone. It would have killed any regular and most predators.
Varro's head snapped sideways. Blood sprayed. He sagged in the bear's grip, barely conscious.
Maer raised a hand. The team froze.
"We need to pull back," Louie whispered, voice tight. "This isn't our fight."
Then the tigress turned.
She saw them.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
A heartbeat later she tilted her head. Tail flickering like an angry snake behind her.
No way they could outram any of those on a flooded tunnel.
Hell broke loose.
"CONTACT!" Louie roared. "OPEN FIRE!"
The tunnel lit up with muzzle flashes. Thunder rolled through the cistern as all ten enforcers unleashed hell.
Rounds tore through the water, sparked off stone, and slammed into flesh. The tiger shrieked, not in pain, but fury. She recoiled, and then charged. Shooting like a ballista bolt.
Roaring, a guttural sound that shook dust from the ceiling, the boar followed.
Behind them, the bear held Varro firm, keeping the moose pinned and helpless.
Louie's first three shots hit the tigress center mass. She staggered. Blood bloomed across her chest — dark, thick, wrong.
For a moment, hope flared.
We can do this.
Fire poured from the team into the charging predators. A burst to the shoulder made the boar stumble. A shotgun blast tore through the tiger's thigh, buckling her leg.
They're bleeding. They're slowing. Louie celebrated in his head. He’d be the hero in the end. He’d be Chief.
"KEEP FIRING!" Maer shouted, voice raw. "Don't let up!"
The enforcers reloaded in practiced rhythm, magazines snapping home.
That's when Louie saw it.
The wounds were closing.
Riddled with holes a second ago, the tigress' blood seemed to be sucked back into the gaping wounds, injuries knitted themselves together. Flesh crawled over torn muscle. Skin sealed like wax melting in reverse.
The boar's shoulder wound shrank, then vanished entirely.
"Oh Gods," someone whispered.
The tigress hit them like a freight train.
Claws that cut through armor like paper tore through the front line. The first enforcer went down without a sound besides the splash as he toppled over, throat opened to the spine. The second tried to backpedal and dodge. Her head came off in a spray of red, twisting in the air.
Chaos.
Lunging forward that should be impossible to his size, the boar crashed into the left flank. Tusks goring an enforcer through the chest. He lifted the body and with a shake of his neck flung it into a column. Wet crunching meant the enforcer wouldn’t get back up.
Screams. Gunfire. Flashbangs lit the cistern in blinding strobes. Blood on stone. Blood in water.
Louie fired his shotgun point-blank into the boar's face. The blast exploded part of the gas mask, shattering the lenses and exploding the left eye.
The boar grunted and turned to face him..
Then he laughed. In the span of two heartbeats, that empty gory socket twitched. A greyish blob forming and expanding, becoming white covered in veins. Finally an iris bloomed, and the predator winked at him.
There was the strong smell of urine, and he saw a wolf whose name he didn’t remember shivering next to him. Even not being able to hold her bladder in fear, the wolf enforcer opened fire against the boar.
Faster than she could react, the boar reached for her, grabbing the wolf and crushing her skull one-handed. The sound was obscene.
"FALL BACK!" Louie roared, but there was nowhere to go.
The tigress was behind them now, cutting off the tunnel. She moved like liquid shadow, claws flashing, throats opening, bodies dropping.
Maer fired his rifle until the mag ran dry, then drew his sidearm. "Captain—!"
In the space between breaths, the boar's fist came down on Maer's shoulder. Bones shattered. Screaming AT the top of his lungs, the zebra collapsed, clutching the ruin his arm became. A second fist silenced him.
Louie turned, fired, reloaded, fired again. His hands shook. His heart hammered in his chest. Eight enforcers. Then six. Then four.
The bear still held Varro, watching with detached curiosity as the slaughter unfolded.
A rookie scrambled past Louie, eyes wild with terror. The tigress caught him mid-stride and bit down on his neck. His legs kicked once. Twice. Then stopped.
Three left.
Two.
The boar locked eyes with Louie.
Louie raised his shotgun. Empty.
He dropped it. Drew his sidearm.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
The rounds punched into the boar's chest, causing blood to well. The wounds closed.
The boar advanced.
Louie tried to step back, his back hit the wall. Cold stone. Nowhere to run.
The boar reached for him.
Louie tried to dodge. The boar caught him by the chest plate and lifted him off his feet like a doll. Kicking and struggling wasn’t enough.
Up close, Louie could hear it, the steady mechanical hiss of the gas mask, each breath slow and measured.
Then the boar stopped.
One massive hand rose to his face. With a sharp, practiced motion, he tore away the lower half of the mask. Straps snapped. Filters clattered into the water below. revealing the drooling mouth.
The rotten stench made Louie gag as the boar's mouth opened wide. Impossibly wide. Tusks framing a black void.
"No…"
The boar's jaws closed over Louie's head.
And he swallowed.
Louie felt himself sliding. Felt the crushing pressure of throat muscles contracting around him. Felt the heat, the stink, the absolute wrongness of being devoured whole.
He couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. He was going to die here in this grave of flesh. becoming a part of a monster that would go around and kill more people.
Never!
As the flesh prison contracted around him, his hands scrabbled at his vest. Fingers found the grenades clipped to his chest.
One last thought, clear and cold:
I might not live to be a hero. But I can die like one.
He pulled the pins.
All of them.
=================================
The boar felt the jackal go limp in his gullet. Felt the weight of him settling in his stomach.
He turned back toward the bear that was methodically binding Varro with steel cables instead of rope.
The explosion tore him apart from the inside.
A muffled WHUMP that shook the ground. The boar's torso bulged grotesquely for a fraction of a second, then fire and gore tore through him in a violent bloom. Flesh and bone burst apart, spraying the chamber in wet arcs. Viscera slammed into stone. Chunks of burning meat splashed into the stagnant water. The shockwave rattled the columns, showering rust and debris from above.
The legs and arm twitched uncontrollably for the next half hour.