Chương 28: Anthropomorphization

The ding-ding-ding-dong of the doorbell announces yet another guest. Since Martin's injury became public knowledge around the neighborhood, they've been getting a lot of visitors. Still, she opens the door, expecting someone offering yet another plate of some kind of get well dessert. Martin has instructed her to accept it, even knowing it will probably go to waste. An impenetrable logic, but she has long since stopped trying to understand every minutiae of human communication.

"I do not know you, correct?" Shrike asks, looking at the man who stands in front of the door.

"Probably not. Martin here?" The man tries to peek inside, but Shrike blocks his entry with an unsubtle step to the side. He's very well dressed, and strangely young-looking despite his white hair. Shrike blinks a few times, trying to understand what this person is doing. Her interpersonal thought process declares him to be a door to door salesman of some variety, while her general one has decided him to be a low-level threat.

"Who are you?"

"Gerald Winwood, MBR." He opens his suit jacket and shows his badge. Shrike leans in to view it, studying it carefully. The badge says he's not just MBR, but federal MBR. Martin has mentioned them existing, but nothing beyond that.

"I'm on official business," Gerald says, "and I'm going to have a few words with him." He tries to step past Shrike, but is met once again with Shrike blocking the way.

"You are being quite presumptuous. I care not of your affiliation. You will instead be patient and wait outside, as I see if Martin is taking visitors."

"Uh-huh. I hate talking to the help..." He waits outside as Shrike closes and locks the door. She checks immediately to her right, and Martin is sound asleep on the couch, the glow of the TV a static light across his sleeping form. Shrike reopens the door, once again staring at the suited man's face.

"Unfortunately, Martin is indisposed at the moment." Gerald Winwood sighs, checking his watch.

"No offense, but I have a flight in three hours." He forcefully pushes past Shrike, knocking her to the ground, and looks around their home. The thump woke up Martin, who jerks to life at the sound. Winwood, seeing Martin, takes a step towards him. He stops mid-step, being met with an arrow of light immediately in front of his eye. Another couple inches, and it would be tunneling its way into his brain.

"What the hell..." He tries to move the arrows aside with a hand, but it doesn't budge.

"You have been elevated to a moderate threat. You will leave now, or be summarily eliminated." Martin grunts, getting himself into a sitting position.

"Just dismiss it, Shrike. I'm sure he has an explanation. He better, anyway." Winwood nods a few times.

"Yeah. Listen to your boss." Shrike remains unflinching.

"I will count to five. One. Two-" He clears his throat to interrupt her.

"Quiet, kynde. Martin, I came from West Virginia to have a few words. You mind answering some questions?" Martin reaches for a crutch.

"Wanna start with an introduction? Or with me beating you to death for pushing my girlfriend? I'm injured, not dead."

"Mhmm." He shows his badge to Martin, who looks at it with skepticism, and then deep confusion, before finally acceptance.

"Shit. Sorry sir." Martin raises his arm to salute, before dropping it from both pain and embarrassment. Winwood cranes his neck over his shoulder at Shrike.

"See? Your master recognizes me as his master. Now sit." Shrike blinks again, slowly projecting a second glittering needle to join the first.

"Jesus, Shrike," Martin says, grunting as he straightens himself up.

"I'm fine. He's not going to hurt me. He's not going to do anything at all except annoy us." Winwood, intentionally skipping a beat, launches into why he came.

"Martin C, there's a very interesting video circling around MBR."

"Damn it. If this is about Shrike sparring with Counter-Magic-" Winwood cuts him off.

"It's about a very big light show and a very dead worm." Martin's churning thoughts narrow into one.

"Who the hell took a video of that?"

"MBR had a drone watching everything." Winwood shrugs, sitting on the couch next to Martin, and looking for the TV remote.

"That's... strange. Drones have a short battery, and you'd need an expensive one to get it working in that kind of cold..." Martin's face slowly changes, the obvious answer he had previously rejected was now forefront in his brain.

"You get it yet?" Martin nods, glancing at Shrike, who clearly does not.

"Just for the sake of the lady leering at me from across the room, I'm going to clarify. MBR knew there was a big ol' fish snake thing, Counter-Magic decided to make use of the opportunity, and someone by the name of 2nd Lieutenant Andre Norwood, 12th Counter-Magic Group sent five of you to die." He finally finds the TV remote, turning it off, and setting the remote aside. Martin looks over at Shrike, who is visibly shaking. He hopes against hope its because her heat ran out.

"So yeah. Been going place to place. Your ijiraq pal already put it together, but the other two were still completely in the dark." Shrike relaxes immediately after hearing that Caribou knew, and sits down on the other end of the couch next to Martin, still saying nothing. If it knows, she thinks, then there's no immediate threat. Winwood creeps his head around Martin like a prairie dog coming out of its den.

"At least one of you two should be reacting to that." Martin's squeaky groan of pain as he adjusts him posture breaks the silence.

"So who pulled the trigger: MBR, Counter-Magic, or Norwood acting alone?"

"We're almost certain it was just Norwood. We can't rule anything out yet, but this has all the hallmarks of an assassination attempt. Opportunity, means, and desire. Apparently he was squabbling with the ijiraq too, not that blame him for that. Dunno about the gargoyle though, the stony guy wouldn't talk to me."

"So why are you telling me and Shrike?"

"Because, Martin, you didn't die. None of you did, except for Kaiju-026-Peter Sinks." Martin smirks at hearing the worm's official name.

"Knew it. Woodlouse kept trying to tell me it wouldn't reach kaiju class. But really, why tell us?"

"We're telling you because honestly, we're scared of what would happen if we didn't. I was trying to annoy Shrike to see how prone to violence she is, sorry about that Shrike." She briefly nods, letting Winwood continue.

"Look, we don't have much experience with kyndes. No one does. But what we do know is they have an incredibly varied range of ability, on a scale that goes from worthless to... well, to Shrike. There's maybe five others in the country with her level of raw magical power. More importantly, none of them have a partner like you." Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Martin scoffs.

"Yeah, okay, thanks for the ego boost." Winwood isn't laughing.

"You know what was on that footage as well? You, working your ass off for hours in the shittiest conditions in the state. Keeping Shrike all nice and comfy in her little igloo. Bringing her melted snow you boiled with a generator whose heat output you rigged to a makeshift hot plate. You shooting a rifle at K-26. It was so routine that I can only imagine it's how all your hunts go." Martin shakes his head.

"No, it was a special case. Shrike needs-" Shrike gently puts her warm hand on Martin's cheek as she leans over to face him. She carefully pushes aside a strand of hair, meeting his eyes with her own. Gently, tenderly, she kisses Martin on the lips, making him turn bright red as she retracts.

"I needed your silence, Martin," she says, now directing her attention to an even more intrigued Winwood.

"Martin is unaware of how much he provides on hunts. He is the one driving, checking all equipment, setting up tents, devising strategy, and the like. I am inexperienced, and notably rely almost entirely on my innate magical abilities. Martin adapts to every situation, regardless of tools at hand. It is Quality #12 on my internal list of characteristics I love about him." Martin is barely getting over the surprise kiss from Shrike when he hears her casually mention her list.

He can't tell if he's going to die of embarrassment, or die of how adorable she is. Winwood smiles, amused.

"See, Martin? Your girlfriend gets it." Shrike snuggles up close to Martin, careful not to press against any of the large bruises or stitching she has memorized the locations of. Martin finally regains his composure enough to talk.

"So what do you want with us? Just to give us a pat on the back?"

"No, hell no. We're asking you if you'd be interested in a... career opportunity." Martin grimaces.

"If you say desk job, I will have Shrike eat your heart. She's done it before."

"No, nothing like that. You'll still be active hunters, going on monster-killing missions and whatnot, but more importantly, we really need people who understand sapient non-humans. When I say understand, I don't mean 'let them pretend to be human' either. I mean actually try to understand their thoughts and respect their needs. You're the poster child for that, as far as the rest of us are concerned. We'd like you to run a little... let's call it a classroom experience once every other month or so.

For novice hunters and their partners. Shrike can come too, if she promises not to impale me or, as you said, eat my heart." Shrike smiles warmly.

"I will allow you one or the other, but both is simply avarice." Martin flicks her on the forehead, making Winwood laugh.

"Oh, right, uhh..." Martin adds, "Shrike and I being together isn't going to be a problem, right?"

"What?" Winwood laughs again, though it trails off with a bit of regret.

"Sorry, forgot where we were. No, obviously not. Hell, you should see the enormous chain of polycules in Seattle. Pretty sure if you took them end to end, you'd have Bigfoot and Lyngbakr connected somehow." Martin doesn't bother trying to say something in response. He knows no words would fit his thoughts. - Shrike hesitantly enters her local hospital, fortunately different from the one Martin recovered in. She briefly considered using the MBR base as a staging ground, but thought better of it.

They don't need to know everything. With no hunts for the next two and a half weeks while Martin recovers, she feels the need to occupy her time, now that Martin has recovered enough to not require constant supervision. Just to be safe, she snuck out on Sunday to the local LDS chapel, and briefly explained that Martin was injured.

By Tuesday, they had run out of space to put the endless soups and casseroles, and had to start turning away the dozens of people people volunteering to drop by and stay with him for a few hours. Now, Shrike stands at the reception desk, bright golden eyes scanning the woman behind it. Short statute, short hair dyed green at the tips, hazel eyes, and a growing frown.

"Did you need something?" The receptionist asks, trying to figure out of Shrike has had a brain injury of some kind. Shrike maintains firm eye contact, but breaks it occasionally. As humans do.

"Yes. I seek to converse with the hospital director."

"And why is that?"

"I am not human, and possess significant magical abilities that may aid patients' recoveries." The receptionist presses a small button beneath her desk.

"... do you smell toast, or is one side of your body weak?" Shrike sits in the hospital's parking lot, immolating her eyes with the soon to be setting sun. Her eyelids try desperately to close, but she forces them open with her fingers. She can handle the pain of forcibly taking in more light than she naturally would by keeping it in perspective. Even after months have passed, the memory of looking into the sun after the Refraction still brings a twinge if fear deep in her mind.

At least this time, the patient's family let her work. She had expected it to be less exhausting as she got used to using the ability. It was not. At best, she can expend the same level of energy it took to destroy the ice worm to heal one person, and it's less rewarding for her than she hoped. Gratitude doesn't outweigh the exhaustion and pain, let alone not being near Martin. She'll limit how often she does this in the future, she thinks. Save her efforts for stable patients doctors cannot help.

Compared to propagating new flesh from a gunshot wound today, reconnecting a severed spinal cord was enjoyably simple work. - The polar bear slowly trots along, following the delicious scent of warm meat. Its prey is close. The bear starts to dig away a loose wall of snow, erected by a child trying to hide. The child screams, as the polar bear reaches in with wide jaws and closed eyes.

"You just kick a out of this, huh?" Elk watches Caribou pull the child out of the tree well she hid in. Elk scoops up the child in a mylar blanket, gently rocking and hushing her as she babbles in fear about the giant monster. Elk turns her to look at the bear that rescued her.

"Don't worry, Kaitlyn, Mr. Bear is friendly. Go ahead, Mr. Bear, do a funny trick!" Caribou, eyes still closed, rolls around in the snow until the child's terror abates, and settles into soft shivering while crying about her parents. Caribou shifts into a person, for the sake of wearing the mirrored glasses it snatches from Elk's waist, as they hand the child off to a park ranger.

"Must you humiliate me?" Caribou asks with mild annoyance as the ranger takes Kaitlyn away. It walks off into the mountain in a slightly different direction than the ranger.

"I'm sick of fielding complaints from parents about kids having nightmares for months about 'scary red eyes'. Do you have to traumatize the kids?" Elk checks his phone, and follows Caribou.

"I do not have to rescue the children, either, yet they still complain. Humans refuse to compromise on their spawn. Perhaps I should inform them of my origin, that they learn some shriveled fragment of gratitude." It huffs, but Elk knows Caribou is smiling beneath the surface.

"I've been meaning to ask, is being a sadistic bastard an ijiraq thing, or a you thing?"

"Both are accurate. Across individuals, ijirait see humans as a form of the divine, or as a nuisance, or as livestock. Some, such as myself, take joy in causing their suffering. It is a rare quirk, and we are seen as ideal child-bearers blessed to carry out a sacred task. It was a notable disruption when I failed to do so on my first attempted ritual."

"You actually tried to do the birthing ritual? With the child freezing to death?"

"Yes. It was, in fact, going particularly well. The humans closest to us are well-aware of our existence and practices, and as such have numerous safeguards against us. I, however, managed to circumvent them and take with me a prime vessel of around seven."

"Jesus. Okay, but you failed?"

"Yes. I did enjoy the tears, the cries, the pleading... but the quiet resignation near the end is what soured it. There was no fight left. Drained of all I found enjoyment in. In human terms, an empty container of ice cream left in the freezer." Caribou stops walking, turning around.

"I am not so resigned to my basic emotions. I attempted to power through that sense of hollowness, as the wind whipped her hair like so much seaweed. But... I could not. I warmed her as a polar bear, and returned her to her parents in the same form. They must have known, I believe, as what predator brings a child back alive and keeps its eyes closed?" Elk stands in place, listening to the story, letting Caribou continue.

"The joy I heard from them as I waited outside their home inspired the same joy as the terror. I learned that my pleasure came from the strength of human emotions equally rather than any emotion specifically. Terror and pain are simply the easiest to instill." Caribou returns to walking. Elk folds his arms, holding them close as he travels behind Caribou.

"So why not just stick to the easier options? I imagine as a mind-altering shapeshifter, you could do it easily." Caribou does not break its stride.

"As I said, I am not resigned to blindly obeying my emotions. If you had abilities such as mine, is simply seeking the easiest pleasures what you would do?" Elk considers his answer against the gusting wind and the crunching of brittle snow. -"What a beautiful night!" The blur announces to the open mortal sky. Subsisting on lesser animals, plants, and fungi wasn't cutting it. He's hungry enough to take the more dangerous path. Luckily for him, there's a campground nearby.

Time to not just nibble at scraps, but to eat.