Chương 27: Amelioration (End of Arc 4)

The alarm stirs the camp into a frenzy of movement. Caribou quickly changes to its natural form, and puts on its glasses, running to the igloos in a panic.

"We must go. We have to go now!" it yells into each, as Elk, Martin, and Shrike scramble out of their comfortable shelters.

"Shrike, light! As far out as you can send it!" Caribou commands, and Shrike obeys. A bright light illuminates the center of the sinkhole, and more importantly, the thing that must have created it. A massive, clear as glass magical beast. No, Shrike thinks, that doesn't describe it. This isn't a magical beast. This is a leviathan. Its mouth has to be thirty feet in width at minimum, and its length... the gods only know.

The face and jaws of an icefish look forward, its lengthy, segmented wormlike body still emerging from the ice. As the tsunami of ice and snow clears, dozens of giant, light-orange organs are visible beneath the clear hide, pumping currents of nearly transparent blood throughout its massive body. Shrike freezes in place, her heart unable to decide between stopping and racing. Isopod scoops Elk up, flying him off and away from the monster.

It's at least two minutes each way from the lip to the sinkhole, and the monster seems intrigued by the sudden heat in its nesting ground. The leviathan dives into the ground, undulating up and down as if it were a sea serpent. Martin fumbles to set up his anti-material rifle from an untouched case.

"If I'm going to die, I'm not going out like a bitch." Caribou shifts into a raven, flying off into the sky without a word, leaving the last two behind. Martin glances at Shrike, before turning back to his rifle.

"You've gotta go, Shrike. You can use projections to move a hell of a lot faster than I can." Shrike wordlessly shakes her head, as Martin levels the rifle with the monster. A deafening shot rings out, piercing the beasts's eye. It barely seems to notice, as the new, relatively tiny hole in its eye starts crying clear blood. The beast dives into the wall of the sinkhole, burrowing itself in, before lunging out from it directly at Martin.

Shrike tries to put up barriers to reflect the rocks and ice, but she only stops a few in the massive swarm that flies out. Martin braces himself as he's hit with dozens of sharp shards of rock and ice. Shrike summons a barrier, as strong as she can make one, to stop the monster. With one motion, the beast swats with its head, instantly shattering it. Shrike's vision fades for a minute, as she barely holds back from vomiting due to the intense backfiring sensation.

When it returns, the worm is barreling down on her. For a moment, she thinks she's hallucinating. The sight before her is simply too strange for her logic to process. From far in the sky, a giant blue whale careens down and onto the creature's back, temporarily stopping its advance. Shrike runs to Martin. The ground around him is stained deep red, even through all of the layers of his jacket.

She watches the leviathan turn, grabbing the whale with its massive teeth, and with effort throwing it into the ground with a sickening squishing sound that echoes across the sinkhole. As the icy behemoth raises itself in place, it releases a screeching roar that causes the edges of the sinkhole to start collapsing in. She looks up at the skyscraper in front of her, seeing the endless stars through its translucent body.

- She stares up at the stars with her closest friend, one of a scarce few who know her secret: that she is not human, and that she comes from the ancient past. The two lay on a desolate hillside, one far from the world. Her friend tells her a story, one she's told many times before. In it, a man and his brother play the game of pitz too close to the underworld, setting off a grand adventure that ends in the hero twins burying their father's body in the ballcourt. It's a story of renewal. Of fertility. Of life.

She continues her work. Using a carefully refined technique of medicinal herbs and her own carefully placed energy, she sanitizes a severe laceration on a soldier's leg, and largely heals the wound with her light. She is paid well, and finds the work fulfilling. An ideal way to spend her waking days before her next hibernation. Her work had drawn the attention of the king himself, who required her services. She did so with grace, working tirelessly, but there was no disease to cure.

He was simply old, and dying of natural causes. When she informed him of this information in the temple, in his grief, he sent soldiers to kill her in the night. She had been lost in sleepless thought, and barely avoided the first arrow that flew her way, though it shattered a glyph from the temple wall. Confused at first, she bent down to pick it up, and when she raised her head, and arrow pierced her leg. She barely made it out alive, and ran to the one place she knew she could.

She lays on the hillside, realizing she never let go of the glyph in her hand. Her friend arrives, well before the sun rises. One last time, she lays down with her friend, who tells her the story of the hero twins once again, who beat death itself, and left the underworld with their past behind. Her closest friend embraces her a final time, and the healer leaves deep into the jungles, ready to hibernate again.

She finds her place, across from a great tree that stretches up to the stars, and piles the last scoops of rock and mud over the crevice she squeezes into. Her name was Ixtel, and she was a healer, and a dear friend. - Shrike looks up at the great worm again. Perhaps, she thinks, this is her time to leave the underworld. There is no fear in her eyes as she stares straight into the impossible beast before her. Against death itself, what makes this creature an impossible feat to overcome?

As Isopod flies down to gather up the next hunter, hoping someone else survived, he watches an enormous spike of light pierce outward, entering the worm's mouth. It nearly doubles in length, as a dozen spikes pierce out from it. Again, it lengthens, and the spikes from it are thrust outward, gaining spikes of their own.

The tree grows again, and again, until it is nearly two hundred feet long, and adorned in brilliant layers of spikes that glisten with the clear blood and orange innards of the now shredded monster, hanging loosely over the illuminant tree like tinsel. And then, it is gone, shattering into a trillion glowing fireflies that fade out into nothing, the monster's tattered corpse colliding into the snow with less force than one would expect. Shrike covers Martin with her own body.

She's going to freeze to death now that her internal heat is nearly drained, but maybe her clothes can keep him alive just long enough for Elk or Isopod to get him to a hospital. She shivers, and with the last of her strength, puts pressure on a wound she can feel on his back. Shrike is in the spirit world. Caribou is there, too, lying down in the cozy snow. Shrike lays down next to it.

"I suppose... this is now my home." Caribou says nothing, just staring up at the sky.

"Did you die as well?" It turns to face her, grimly smiling.

"I cannot be killed by normal, physical means. I am only hurt, admittedly badly. I am going to rest here for a while, so my body can recover."

"I am glad for you. Do you know if Martin survived? If not, I should find him, and apologize." Caribou turns away, looking up at the stars.

"You did not die. You're hibernating right now."

"No... that does not make sense. I cannot be hibernating, I had nothing stored!"

"Then I suppose you had best wake up, Shrike." Shrike lurches up, coughing and sputtering in the hospital, looking around in a wild panic. She's freezing in here, and feels close to vomiting. Right. Martin couldn't tell them what she needed. She yanks out the IV, holding her puke until she finds a suitable place, and lets it out into the bathroom sink. It tastes like chemicals and human medication, functionally poisons that her body had to process.

She shakes it off, shivering as she steals several blankets from the nearby empty beds, and starts searching for Martin. She checks every single room she stumbles past, asking every single doctor and nurse that tries to usher her back to her own bed, until finally she gets a clear answer. He's stable, though unconscious. Shards of rock and ice had shredded him. Shrike had managed to protect the most vital areas, but there's a lot of lost blood and a lot of tissue is torn.

He's being prepped for surgery as they speak. Chances are slim. Shrike walks to the window, and with searing pain, stares into the sun while forcing her eyes open. It's agonizing, but the image of Martin's shredded form shows up every time her eyes close. The pain of opening them isn't remotely comparable to the agony of closing them. When she has just enough light, she washes her hands in mimicry of the doctors, and walks into the surgical theater.

The doctors all try to calm her and get her to back away, as they see a patient wandering into a sterile room. Shrike summons a small light in her hand, and explains that she is a healer. She pushes past an obstinate nurse, and looks at Martin.

"You." Shrike points at a surgeon who is still trying to talk her down.

"What is the most severe injury?" The surgeon glances between Shrike and Martin's unconscious form. Shrike summons an arrow of light.

"I will not ask again. Answer. Now." The surgeon shakily says his brachial artery on his left arm. Shrike has him point it out next, and dismisses the arrow. She reaches into the bound wound, and does as she remembered from her past cycle. Light turns into energy turns into flesh propagation turns into healing, with millions of microscopic threads connecting the tissue on a cellular scale.

She feels herself being drained from even this small repair, but when she removes her blood-encrusted hand, the artery is repaired.

"You will close the flesh itself, I have limited resources at my disposal. Where is next?" Shrike sits in the waiting room, blood covering both of her hands. After gentle urging from a nurse, she agrees to clean it off, and brings her hands to the sink, turning on the water as hot as it can get. She has a bad pain in her temples, almost like a migraine, but duller and constant. Shrike cleans her hands as best she can, Martin's blood, looking in the mirror. She looks like absolute hell.

No wonder the doctors were scared of her. Eyes sunken so far in they may as well be in her brain. Face pale and almost bruised-looking. Eyes glowing irregularly, ebbing and flowing. She returns to her seat in the waiting room, dejectedly sitting down. Once she watches Martin being rolled out of surgery, as she follows him closely behind, the nurses having learned not to bother trying to chase her off at this point.

As he's rolled into a normal hospital room, and she watches the nurses transfer him to the bed, Shrike sits down in the chair next to him. She's wrapped tightly in blankets, yet still shivering. It doesn't matter. She's survived the MBR cells. She can handle room temperature, for as long as it takes. - The second day, Possum steps in, without Opie for once. Shrike looks up at her. Without the strong connection with a magical beast, Shrike sees her natural eye color for the first time: a pale green.

"Shrike... I heard what happened. Are you okay?"

"Yes. Martin is... we do not know." Possum lets out a long sigh, leaning against one of the few bare patches of the hospital wall. She looks over at the half-mummified figure in the bed, before turning to Shrike.

"If there's anything I can do, I will do it." Shrike doesn't bother to hide as tears well up in the corners of her eyes, and slowly drip down.

"If Martin succumbs, would you assist in locating a method of preserving several mementos of mine? I worry the objects will not survive another few hundred years of hibernation." Possum nods, patting her on the shoulder.

"Of course, Shrike. Of course." CZ: i remain. IR: holy shit where the hell are you??? CZ: i am where you abandoned me, stone cretin. IR: wtf did you want me to do, lift a fucking whale? DE: I'm so glad you're okay! Have you heard from SC? CZ: she is busy, but healthy. CZ: and yes, you should have lifted the whale. put effort into your duty next time, lazy grotesque. Shrike sees yet another nurse enter the room some time after Possum's departure. Shrike lazily looks over from staring out the window and at the sun.

"I am not moving unless I am moved."

"How else can I deliver your clothing, Shrike?" The nurse asks, smirking. Her red eyes leer down at Shrike.

"Caribou? How did you get here?" Shrike blinks back sleep, exhausted.

"You understand I do infiltration professionally, and there is one security guard, yes? Additionally, I had to break into your home to find your special clothing. And yes, it is fully charged." Shrike takes them with relief.

"Thank you, I desperately wanted these. I will don them in a moment. Allow me to... wake myself up." Caribou scoffs.

"You will change now, I will shift into an insect, and I will wake you if anything changes. Now sleep, foolish kynde."

"There are insects in the arctic?"

"You will not change the subject. Do it now, or I will take them back." Shrike almost protests, but a flash of Martin's sweaty, exhausted face after the Refraction runs through her mind. She hesitantly excuses herself to the bathroom, taking the more formal heated outfit from Caribou with appreciation. When she returns, Caribou is nowhere to be seen, but it left its glasses behind on the bedside table. She sits in the chair, enjoying the warmth, and ignores the feeling of an insect crawling on her head.

Shrike is woken up by a painful bite on the neck. She instinctively swats at it, before realizing what she did. Her thoughts of a swift apology are dashed by Martin stirring awake, and an actual nurse dashing in to respond to the changing vitals.

"Severe concussion, eight severe lacerations and a dozen more less noteworthy ones, compound fracture right tibia. Simple fracture right fibula. Hairline fracture right femur. Subluxation of L3 vertebrae. You want me to move to page two, or do you get the picture?" The doctor shakes the clipboard a few times.

"To be honest, we were doing the surgeries out of obligation more than actual hope for your survival. But, to the entire staff's confusion, the stone monster that somehow flew you here was keeping you almost perfectly still the entire time. And then, you were going to die from four different complications, but your incredibly stubborn friend here magically fixed the most lethal injuries. You'll be back in the field in a month. I'd call it a miracle, but I've seen miracles. I don't know what you'd call this."

He pushes his graying hair back, looking at the chart.

"We're keeping you here for a week, just to make sure." Martin nods, still swimming in painkillers.

"Thanks, Shrike. Since when did you get a medical degree, though?"

"I had a memory during the worm, when I saw how badly you were hurt. Related to the glyph." Martin laughs, which turns into a coughing fit, as he lays back down.

"No shit?" The doctor clears his throat.

"Okay, Shrike, was it? Are you going to threaten to kill me again if I tell him the bad news?" Martin glares at Shrike. She sighs out, before scooting over, and receiving a justified forehead flick. Martin looks back at the doctor.

"Sorry about her. She's not from here, and doesn't quite understand that threatening to kill people is bad."

"Not from here? What, from Earth?" he grunts.

"Look, Mr. C, you're gonna have a lot of new scars, things might not heal perfectly, almost certainly some lasting pain. I doubt you're ever going to feel quite as good as you did before." Martin gives a skeptical look.

"I think you overestimate just how good I felt before this."

"I'm going to let the painkillers wear off. As for you," he says as he points to Shrike, "what exactly are you? At this point, I can safely assume you're not human."

"A kynde," Shrike tersely responds.

"Thank you for saving Martin. I am deeply in your debt." The doctor's mouth twitches upward.

"That's what I wanted to hear, actually. We're given discretion on using... this is a medical term, 'non-standard magic tools' during life-threatening surgery. I'm putting in my report that I requested you. In exchange for not calling Counter-Magic on you for threatening to kill me, I'd like your help with a couple unique cases around here. Sound fair?" Shrike nods slowly, trying to and failing to keep awake now that she knows Martin isn't in danger.

"Get some food if you eat it, and definitely get some sleep. It's nothing that can't wait a couple days. I'll be back later." The doctor, with a final fleeting glance at Martin, steps out of the room. - Krastev watches the footage again. A behemoth of a magical beast, an enormous, serpent-like monster. Something significantly bigger than anything he's seen before outside of the deep ocean. The kind of monster he would authorize military bombing runs for.

And the tiny dot on the low-res drone footage summons an enormous projection of light, over half a football field in length, that tears it in half. What the hell is this kynde capable of at her peak? Is it worth finding out? He and Ximena sit at a table, flanked by two fully armed soldiers, looking across the table at Norwood, as the footage plays on a projector between them. Krastev motions for one of the two soldiers in the room to turn off the projector, and to turn the lights in the room back on.

The major appraises Norwood. He looks far less nervous than he's supposed to right now.

"2nd Lieutenant Andre Norwood," Krastev begins, "In light of our preliminary investigation, we are placing you on administrative leave, effective immediately." Norwood stands up, slamming his hands on the table.

"That's bullshit! I managed to get that city-destroying threat taken out with nothing but five licensed hunters, none of which are so much as permanently disabled, let alone dead." Krastev's expression remains static, though a hidden confidence in his eyes starts to peak out.

"So this was your intention, to kill the monster?"

"No, but it happened anyway! I picked a capable team from the non-military hunters and they took care of the job."

"Sit down. Now. And you will refer to me as Sir." Norwood grits his teeth, sinking back into place. Krastev steeples his fingers before speaking again.

"Let me ask you something, 2nd Lieutenant, and be honest with me. Do you think I am unaware of the danger Shrike poses?" Norwood goes to speak, but stops himself.

"I am fully aware of the threat, I assure you. Ximena and I both are. Your problem is in your approach. Andre, when you see a dangerous creature, you seek to eliminate or subjugate them. My method, the correct method, is to ally with them." Krastev gets up, motioning for the lights to turn off, and projector to be flicked on again. He points at the giant tree-like projection with a pen, frozen in place against the wall, a shadow cast by his arm.

"That right there, that weapon of such scale, is being used by a monster. A real monster, not just a goatsucker or what have you. One that we have already made life difficult for in a dozen ways. But still, she's working for us. And you know what she wants in return? A private chatroom for her friends. Not having her little toys on the mantle of her fireplace touched. A fucking life." He throws the pen at Norwood with force, the lieutenant ducking as it clatters against the ground behind him.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Get it in your skull, Andre. We're not the only creatures on the planet. What's more? We're not the scariest. Ximena, pull up the next slide for me." She does so quickly, revealing statistics from the Refraction, along with a list of Shrike's accomplishments. Norwood tries to object, but is shut down immediately by a death glare from Krastev.

"We can't just kill her, you fucking idiot. There's no way to be certain her death wouldn't cause some kind of incident like the Refraction again. For the record, I'm not upset you went behind my back. I'm not angry you authorized a team to deal with the Peter Sinks beast. I'd even accept you sending Shrike like you did. But you want to know what was un-fucking-forgiveable?" Ximena flicks to the next slide. Martin's license portrait sits alone on the white background.

Norwood's heart starts to race, as the realization starts to set in.

"You're right about one thing, Andre: it is bullshit that you're on leave. Realistically, I should have you court-martialed for even considering that kind of gamble on a personal grudge. Now get the fuck off my base. I have to arrange a very nice fruit basket, a get well soon card, a personal apology, and a prayer to every god I know that Shrike in her magnanimity forgives us yet again for your lapses in judgement." - Shrike looks at the case file. An unknown infectious disease causing necrosis.

"My healing does not function in that manner. It mends what is there and replenishes what is missing. I cannot cure infectious disease, I cannot replace missing organs or wounds that have since healed over, and I cannot reverse aging." She looks at his name tag. Doctor Carter Spence. He saved Martin's life, so at minimum, she owes him a life in turn. Dr. Spence looks through a few more.

"Okay, this one might be more realistic." He offers Shrike another one. 14 year-old child, skiing accident, severed spinal cord.

"Happened about a week ago, not much healing done yet, paralyzed from the neck down." Shrike considers it. Severed nerves shouldn't be too hard, since fixing them individually won't be impossible. She's used to handling billions of individual photons as a group, so this should be similar.

"I will attempt the procedure. A fair warning, doctor. The process of my healing is excruciating for the patient. It alights every nerve affected. In this situation... all of them." Carter thinks for a moment, then takes a blank piece of paper, and intentionally gives himself a paper cut.

"Show me." Shrike nods, and rests her hand on it, closing her eyes and concentrating. As soon as she starts to channel the energy, she finds herself punched in the face, staggering back as Dr. Spence curses in pain.

"God damn it! Sorry!" He checks on Shrike, who waves him away.

"I didn't think it could be that bad."

"Yes. Imagine the agony should the patient remain conscious." Shrike massages her jaw. Spence isn't very strong, fortunately.

"We'll put him under. Absolutely. God damn, that hurt like a bitch." - Krastev knocks on the door, carrying an expensive fruit arrangement, before walking in.

"Martin C. Glad to see you're okay."

"Major Krastev, that's a surprise. I'm fine, or at least, I will be, sir." Krastev scrunches his forehead.

"Right. I brought you a fruit arrangement. Have you seen Shrike?"

"Yeah, she's off helping a doctor with something. You know her, always trying to lend a hand." Martin smiles at the major. Krastev nods, adjusting his bifocals as he turns his head to the left, the enchantment on them highlighting a small fly in green and blue.

"I see... you can come out, ijiraq." In a smooth motion, the small biting fly shifts into Caribou, who scoops up the mirrored glasses on the table and puts them on before opening its eyes.

"Perceptive."

"Mhmm. Would you excuse us?" Krastev watches it carefully. Of all the moon-ranks in Utah, Caribou is the one he's threatened the most by. Not from danger, not from power, but from its impenetrable motivations. Shrike is dangerous, but she's easy to keep happy, at least.

"No. I do not think thats in our interest. Ours as in Shrike's and my own" Caribou paces to the door, jaws clacking together.

"I would like to hear what you have to say, and I have questions of my own." Damn it, the ijiraq is sharp.

"I was just asking Martin to let Shrike know I came by. Would you please move from the door?"

"I would, but questions burn in my brain, and as one of the victims in this affair, I doubt this opportunity will rise again. Tell me why you are here, and not Ximena." It isn't a question. It's a demand.

"I heard one of our trainers and her partner were involved in a major hunt gone awry. How's that strange?"

"It was not inherently, until you asked for the room alone," Caribou states, opening and relaxing its jaws. Krastev looks to Martin.

"Can you ask your friend to move?" Martin makes a popping sound with his mouth a few times.

"I'm kind of loopy from all the drugs in me. Probably better to let Caribou handle whatever's going on. You know, since it involved Shrike and I almost dying." Krastev clenches his fists.

"Of course. Caribou, what can I help you with?"

"I noticed something peculiar. Did you know that during the hunt, we were not informed the others would be working with us? It is standard MBR procedure, Major Krastev, one they follow without error. Until now."

"That's unfortunate. Would you like me to talk to Ximena?"

"No, because I do not believe she was in charge of this. She is an ardent supporter of non-human persons, you see, and would refrain from sending Shrike to such an inhospitable place. It is against her nature."

"Say what you're going to say, ijiraq."

"I am saying this was not coordinated by MBR. Too little... nuance, let's say. This was a military approach."

"I have more important things to do that arrange hunting parties. Sorry to let you down."

"No, not you. But you see, I know with certainty 2nd Lieutenant Norwood has a personal grievance with Shrike, the authority to assign this mission, and the lack of foresight to see her potential survival." It snaps its jaws together like a bear trap Krastev shakes his head.

"That's a wild accusation."

"I had already asked those within the MBR, however. I have no friends in the MBR, but they have friends. Friends that I have seen, and that I can be." Bastard. When did he infiltrate the base?

"So what exactly do you want me to do? Admit to something we didn't do because a pencil-pusher lied to a friend, if that even happened?" Caribou walks over to Martin, whipping off its glasses and staring at him. Martin's eyes glaze over, entranced, as Caribou returns to speaking.

"I would like to know, so that I can ensure it will not happen again. Understand that in my field, there is little information I share willingly. I have no desire to bother Shrike with such... details. Not this time, at least." Krastev adjusts his glasses again, clenching his fists.

"This is a ridiculous line of questioning, ijiraq, although Norwood has been put on an unrelated administrative leave due to a pending investigation."

"I will confirm this with Ximena, so please ensure she is looped in. Shrike is a personal friend, Major Krastev. Though my allegiance is with humanity, I have changed my mind on the subject before. Now take the fruit arrangement, walk outside, and gift it to Martin again. He will have forgotten it." Caribou places its glasses down on the table, shifting back into an insect. Krastev walks outside, fear and anger in equal measure. He didn't expect the ijiraq to be close with kynde.

A more ominous picture is starting to form for him, but there's no time for that now. He knocks on the door, entering once again.

"Martin C. Glad to see that you're okay." - Shrike sits down awkwardly with Dr. Spence and the child's parents. She tried to clean herself up, but hiding her sallow appearance was difficult. Fortunately, she thinks, the child's parents aren't doing much better. She briefly considers if that mentality is rude, but decides it is not. Dr. Spence starts, sitting directly to the right of Shrike, and facing across from the parents.

"We may have... something." The child's parents lean in eagerly, holding each others' hands.

"So... a severed spinal cord is unfixable by normal means. But, you two are lucky. There is an incredibly rare supernormal means available."

"What?!" The mother says, eyes suddenly full of life.

"Let me stress that this is far from a sure thing that hasn't been attempted before. Further, please keep an open mind to the method we will be using." Spence's practiced tone and compassionate expression seems to be winning them over. Shrike says nothing, but cocks her head slightly. Why is Dr. Spence going through this preamble? Even if it were a tiny chance, wouldn't the parents leap at it?

"Please, Carter, just say it," the exhausted father says. Spence gestures at Shrike.

"This is Shrike. She's a magical beast hunter by trade with magic abilities, including a narrowly applicable but highly potent healing ability. She believes she might be able to help Brandon."

"Praise Jesus!" The mother says, reaching across the table, and furiously shaking her hand. Shrike can see that the father remains skeptical, though, and for understandable reasons. Healing magic is rare, and difficult to teach to anyone besides an already experienced doctor with a broad understanding of medical disciplines and an affinity for magic. Certain magical beasts, mostly fairies, have healing abilities. Only rarely do they use them on humans, though. The price they charge is usually abhorrent to boot.

"Carter, do you actually believe this? She's what, 30? And a beast hunter?"

"I know this may be difficult to believe, but I've seen it firsthand. It's incredible."

"Fine," the child's father says.

"I'm just going to look up your medical license, hunter." Carter senses he's being phased out of the conversation, and defers it to Shrike, who speaks with a calm and gentle tone.

"I will be honest from the start. I have no medical license. I am not human, and I am a magical beast known as a kynde." She notes, expecting a brief recoil in surprise. Instead, the father stands up in a rage.

"This is a sick joke," the father says, holding his now crying wife.

"I'm reporting you both for this. What is the matter with you? Getting our hopes up for a laugh?!" Carter stands up as well, holding his hands out.

"This isn't a joke, Shrike is genuinely not human."

"Fuck you. We don't want a monster taking care of our son," the father says adamantly, his wife still sobbing in his arms. Shrike frowns.

"This is not progressing as expected. I apologize for my lack of understanding, but what exactly is the objection?" The father sneers at Shrike in disgust, escorting his wife out of the room. Carter plummets back down into the cushioned folding chair, holding the back of his head in his hands as he stares down at the ugly fake wood table. Shrike turns her head to him.

"Did I say something offensive?"

"No," Carter says, gripping handfuls of his hair as he leans over the table from his chair.

"They're just idiots."

"And you're sure you can do this?" Martin asks, slightly adjusting himself.

"With reasonable confidence, at minimum..." Shrike says.

"That's a dangerous plan," he notes while scrolling through messages on his phone.

"I'm too hopped up on painkillers to say if that's even legal, honestly. Not to mention, you're not exactly the most... Shrike, I love you, but you're not very charismatic." Shrike nods, deep in thought.

"Perhaps I shall enlist Caribou-""Don't. Just... don't be weird, yeah?"

"Is that approval?" He closes his eyes tightly.

"I think it's a bad idea, but I'm not going to say you shouldn't. You're too stubborn for that."

"I am not stubborn. I am open and accepting of alternative ideas should they follow more sound logic than my own... Admittedly, this is a rare occurrence, by my point stands strong!" Shrike has waited in the hospital parking lot for nearly an hour, staying vigilant for her target. As she checks the time, she sees her prey: Brandon's mother, Vanessa, leaving her car. She's 40 or 50, and what Martin jokingly calls 'ethnically Mormon': white, dirty blonde hair, slightly taller than average.

Regardless, she's exhausted looking, and permanently teary-eyed. Shrike knows she needs to be gentle, but assertive. With quiet confidence, Shrike steps up to her with a smile.

"Excuse me, Vanessa, may I have a moment?" Vanessa starts to backpedal towards the car for a few steps.

"Oh, God. You're that monster." Shrike, in response, frowns and looks away.

"I... I am not a monster. I had not meant... I am sorry, I only wished to help." With a final hesitant step back, Vanessa stops.

"I know what you are. I'll call Counter-Magic if you don't leave my family alone."

"If that is your decision, then I shall not interfere. Prior to that, however, I ask that you accompany me until we reach your son's room. My own significant other is in dire condition as well, and his room lies only a few doors down from Brandon's."

"If you're some miracle healer, why don't you just heal him instead? He's..." Vanessa trails off, and shakes her head.

"What do you mean by 'significant other'?"

"His name is Martin. We have been a couple for some months, though have known each other longer. He was injured in a recent magical beast hunt, and regrettably, there is little I can do for his specific injuries."

"They treat beasties at this hospital?"

"Typically not, though Martin is human."

"... that's... wait, you're dating a human? A human is dating you?" Shrike holds open the door.

"It is approximately three minutes of walking until we reach his room. That is all I ask of you. Please accept, for Brandon's sake." Vanessa anxiously takes a step forward.

"If this is some kind of trick, you'll regret it."

"Thank you, truly." The two enter the hospital together, and begin walking. Vanessa is moving more quickly than Shrike would like, but she's not fleeing. That's a good sign.

"I admit this is not entirely altruism," Shrike says quietly.

"I owe Dr. Spence a great debt for saving Martin's life. I wish to repay it in action, as I cannot express my gratitude properly in words... I am certain you have noticed my speech is... what is a word for it? Stilted?

"Stilted. Weird. Broken. Antiquated." Shrike smiles lightly.

"Yes. Those."

"Whatever. I don't buy it. What's there for you to gain? This is a hospital, they treat people. You don't need to pay them back for doing their jobs. Other than in money." Shrike nervously scratches at her arm.

"I... this is an embarrassing admission, but I had been overzealous in Martin's defense. I was lightly injured in the same incident as Martin, and also brought here. When they were treating Martin, I... well, I threatened the surgeon to allow me to assist. In my defense, I was also injured, and being injected with medications that were lightly poisonous to my unique biology." Vanessa grimaces.

"So, what, you're doing this as a way to avoid getting sent to some kind of magical beast prison?"

"Ahh, no. Not as such. My fervent apologies were accepted, but the guilt remains... ahh. We have arrived." Shrike opens the door, revealing Martin reading something on his phone still. Shrike gestures for Vanessa to enter, which she hesitantly does. Martin looks over at the two of them, and groans.

"Seriously, Shrike? I'm on like five different drugs right now."

"Yes, but you... are better. With wording. Not in regards to injuries." Vanessa glances at the door.

"Martin, right? I don't want to bother you."

"Yeah. And no, don't leave, I appreciate the company. I'm just teasing her a bit. You must be Vanessa. I'd get up to shake your hand, but you know." He gestures at his leg, concealed by a cast. She nods once, holding her arms close to her chest.

"You, well... you're dating a monster?"

"Don't call her that," he grunts.

"Huh? But she is-""No. She's a person. Not human, but a person. I know monsters, and we kill monsters. Turn around and look at Shrike. Seriously, look at her." Vanessa turns her head around to Shrike, who is nervously scratching her arm still, and avoiding eye contact.

"Tell me," Martin says, "does she look like a baby-eating creature of the night to you? Let me tell you some things I love about Shrike. She's reliable. She's smart as hell. She does this thing where her pupils dilate and contract when she gets excited. Her favorite animals are pelicans. She loves the smell of cedar in the fireplace, but doesn't like the smell of poplar. She pretends to be interested in movies I like. When she laughs, it has this cute little ringing to it. When we-""Martin..."

Shrike interrupts, hiding a blush with her hand.

"I am unsure if the extensive detail is necessary..."

"It is. Because I have a million more things, too. Vanessa, I know you're scared, and your family is going through hell right now. I'm too high right now to think of a nicer way to phrase this, but you'd be a dipshit not to take her help. Actually, I have a great idea. How about you ask your kid what he thinks? Ask him if he'd rather not move anything below the neck for the rest of his life, or if he'd like to have a chance at the inverse, but that the woman treating him isn't human?

Or just say that you're not going to allow it. What the hell do you think he'll say?" - The magical beast nods to the anesthesiologist, who tells Brandon to count backwards from ten. The child looks over to the golden-eyed creature as his vision fades. Was she the answer to his prayers? He's never really liked going to church, but... so far away... why... And then he is in his hospital room again, looking around nervously. The beastie is gone, his parents are teary-eyed, and Dr.

Spence telling them something he's still too out of it to understand. As his head clears, he sees the doctor looking over at him.

"Good, you're awake," the doctor says as he takes two steps over.

"Let's not waste time. Can you try and wiggle your toes for me?" Brandon tries. It doesn't feel any different than it has for the last week and a half. As he expected. This was obviously too good to be true. What a waste of time. And now his parents are crying. He watches the doctor next take a small needle, and pokes his big toe. Reflexively, he jerks his leg back, his toes clenching from the pain. -"Is this speed uncomfortable?" Shrike asks, looking in the rearview mirror. Martin is a mess.

Despite being cleared to go home, he still looks like he did at the hospital. Right leg in a cast. Left wrist in a splint. Visible stitches in three places on his arms. So many bruises that he looks like a Picasso. Dr. Spence was right. It's incredible he survived, even with her intervention.

"Nope." Martin watches Shrike's eyes. She spends more time looking at him than on the road. She's asked if he's uncomfortable seven times so far: three times while getting to the car, twice when getting in, and now twice while driving. He's not sure how to feel about it. Visions of the ice worm flash in his mind, how little he could do against it. How Shrike not only killed it, but saved his life with some kind of new and convenient healing ability. What exactly is he bringing to the table at this point?

Shrike is a quick study, and after another couple years she'll know as much as he does about magical beasts. He knows Shrike would never abandon him, of course, but the feeling of impotence hurts more than the broken leg. Shrike pulls in to the driveway. He opens the car door, taking his crutches, and awkwardly tries to slide out of the seat. Then, Shrike is there, helping him. As always. He slowly shambles to the front door of their house, which Shrike opens for him.

"Are you in atypically bad pain?"

"No, Shrike. If I am, I'll tell you." He sits down on the couch, leaning the crutches against the arm. He catches them once as they slide down the side. Immediately, Shrike casts a projection, a small rectangle that loops in between the gaps, keeping the crutches from falling again.

"I have stabilized them temporarily. I believe we have an unused coat rack in the basement that would suffice." She looks at him with an endearing and infuriating look. He's certain she's either looking at him like a dog looks at its owner, or the other way around.

"Leave it, Shrike. I got it." He puts them on the floor in front of him. I need to stop it, he thinks. He knows he'd act exactly the same if Shrike was hurt. Hell, he did act exactly the same after the refraction. Though admittedly he held up less well, he thinks grimly. He hears Shrike order his favorite pizza, as she starts clearing the fridge of food that went bad over the last week and change. And he does nothing. Like he's been doing for a week. SC: Martin seems unhappy, beyond the pain.

Would anyone know the reasoning? DE: This is my specialty! I'm happy to help! Tell me the exact situation! SC: He is currently being attended to by me, as he has difficulty moving. I am caring for all his physical needs, so I believe there are mental health requirements I am missing. I am familiar with the fact he has an inferiority complex, but we have addressed it before. DE: Just because you address something doesn't mean its fixed, SC! That's still what's bothering him! SC: I understand.

Thank you for your advice. I do not know how to address this. IR: what are you struggling with right now SC: Martin's inferiority complex. IR: besides that SC: My growing misgivings about Peter Sinks. IR: lemme rephrase. whats something you are bad at that martin is good at that you can do from home"You have to drop on the big green monster's head." Martin watches Shrike enter the fog wall for the fourth time.

"I have! It leaves the creature with significant health remaining, which is where I struggle." Shrike moves the character forward, determined to slay the great foe. She inputs the plunging attack, spearing the beast in the head, and then drops to the ground. She raises the shield, and starts prodding it with the spear.

"Watch your stamina. The green bar. You need to to attack and to dodge."

"Yes." Shrike is tightly focused, dodging the creature's massive club, as she pokes it more and more. A mistimed dodge, and she's taken down to a sliver of health, the red bar almost invisible.

"Make some distance, then drink your flask." Shrike follows his instruction, and is back in the fight. And then, just barely, the creature dies. Shrike jumps up from the floor, feeling a rush of emotions, and hugging Martin until he starts to say 'ow'.

"Finally, the beast is dead." Shrike smiles brightly.

"With your tutelage, of course."

"Yeah. Don't get cocky, though. There are... 20ish more enemies a lot tougher than that one." Martin watches Shrike's face fall, as she slowly sits back down in front of the console. He watches as she gets swooped up by a great bird in the game. He knows Shrike is only doing this to make him feel better, but being honest with himself, it's working. And he has no intention of wasting Shrike's gift.

Ferret and Moth angrily storm into Martin's house the next morning, Ferret nodding briefly at Shrike, who faintly smiles before returning to the fireplace.

"Where is that son of a bitch?" Moth shouts, scanning the room, and seeing Martin asleep on the couch. She stomps over to him, and digs her finger into a particularly nasty bruise. Martin wakes up to inexplicable pain, and sees Moth and Ferret leering over him with anger, with the former's pointer finger digging into him. He swats Moth's hand away.

"Alright, god damn, what?"

"You weren't gonna tell us?!" Ferret folds his arms, scowling with a red face and wide eyes.

"You tell friends when you almost die, jerk!"

"I wanted to see if I died first, since I hate people worrying about me. How did you two even find out?"

"Joseph texted me." Ferret shakes his phone in his hand dramatically.

"You know, your neighbor?"

"What the hell are you talking about? When did you get my neighbor's number?"

"Shrike's party! We've kept in touch," Ferret asserts, as though it'd be unthinkable not to. Ferret and Moth continue to ignore Shrike, who is resting comfortably by the fire, as usual. She watches the entirely expected outcome of Martin's refusal to tell anyone. In truth, she texted Ferret and Moth roughly two hours prior. New faces might help, she thinks. - Six shitty beers in, Norwood thinks, and barely even tipsy.

His host Peccary sits down, his usual meaningless scowl enhancing the lodge's talk-tough atmosphere. Peccary waves another round over, and opens the beer with a thin piece of whittled bone. Norwood asks Peccary what it's made of, and is told that its Nemean Lion bone. Sure, Peccary, he thinks. Sure it is. Peccary drums his hands on the bar counter.

"Iggy, another." Iguana grabs another bottle from an enormous hoard below the counter. Their hunting careers haven't been great, so Iguana and Silkworm have been taking up odd jobs, including as bartenders for actual hunters. Peccary thinks its hilarious.

"So then, magician, what brings you here today? Usually we hunters are fighting with you about claims, not sharing drinks." Norwood takes a long sip.

"Admin leave. They didn't like my methods." Peccary raises an wild and bushy eyebrow.

"No? Tell me what happened."

"Ever hear of a kynde called Shrike?" Norwood asks, taking another swig.

"Yeah, once or twice." Peccary tries to act disinterested, but Shrike has been a source of occasional curiosity. Norwood takes out his phone, entering a 12 digit long passcode to unlock it. He opens a file sharing app, and types in a second password. He scrolls down to a folder labelled "Kaiju - 0026 - Peter Sinks," and shows Peccary some early evidence of the monstrosity. Enormous holes in the ground, blurry pictures of semi-transparent arches, and environmental readings. Peccary watches with fleeting interest.

Kaiju tales never pan out to anything. Norwood, sensing the disinterest, skips to a drone picture of it erupting from the earth. Peccary looks at it closely.

"What, they teach you CGI now? You're gonna need a better-" Peccary watched as the Counter-Magic Lieutenant pulls up a video, almost two minutes long. There's no sound, just video of the giant creature, swimming in a spiraling motion through the snowy earth, and then into a wall. As it rears up, a blue whale falls from the sky, pushing it into the ground. The beast easily lifts it, tossing it far to the side, as its eyes hone in on one of the dots, a brief pause in its attack.

A shaft of golden light enters down its throat, and from this angle, its clear what happened. The monster was stretched out like a windsock, the continuous surges from the spike eventually rip it apart, spilling organs and some kind of clear liquid across the snow. The video ends with the tiny dot still moving, seemingly uninjured. A dry swallow sticks in Peccary's throat. He's seen enough magical beasts die to know when ones being faked. Worm-like creatures always split away from the seams.

And that one split away from the seams.

"What in the hell..."

"Originally, I sent Shrike and a few others like a shapeshifter there in hopes they'd die and I'd write it off. But no, the kynde just obliterated it. It was holding still, sure, but the absolute power contained there..." Peccary glances at Norwood, before his eyes return to the screen, frame frozen on the beast splitting apart from the thorny tree.

"Why are you showing me this?"

"I'm thinking about a change in career paths if I get discharged." Norwood chugs his seventh beer of the night, eye contact never breaking.

"And I hear not everyone around here has a license."