“I’m telling you, Don, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.”
“Relax, Mary, it’s only a trial period. Few days, tops.”
“How can you sleep knowing that… That
thing is under our roof?”
“It’s not under the roof. It’s sleeping in a kennel outside, remember?”
“I still don’t like it. I saw the children try to feed it on their way to school. I don’t want them going anywhere near the beast.”
“I’ll have a word with them. But the district assured me it’s been trained to obey humans, so it shouldn’t cause any harm. Just think of it as a regular dog.”
“What kind of a dog has horns?!”
“…”
“Don, I saw it
breathe fire.”
“At the kids?”
“At another dog, but that’s beside the point!”
Officer Don watched as his wife fretted back and forth across the floor of their small bedroom, every so often casting a wary glance out the window at the small house in the garden. All she could see when she squinted into the pitch black was a barbed tail poking through the wire holes, sleek and serpentine. She shuddered and sat on the bed, frostily refusing her husband’s warm embrace.
“It’s a hellhound. That’s what it is. The apocalypse is here, and it’s come to tell us we’re all doomed.”
“Now, I wouldn’t go that far…”
“Have you
seen the news lately?”
She snapped, and reached for the remote. The ghastly information tube clicked to life,
“…reports of what locals claim appears to be a dragon sighted around the county area. Residents are advised to stay indoors…”
“You hear that? A dragon!”
“Hush, keep your voice down. You’ll wake the baby.”
Mary’s eyes darted to the baby monitor on the nightstand, staring at the unfamiliar technology as in a trance. Gingerly she picked the receiver up and cradled it soft in her hand in place of the newborn, listening to the deep, quiet breathing on the other end. Her husband placed a secure hand on her shoulder, which felt cold even through her nightgown. The trembling ceased, but her face looked so pale and frail that Don was the one afraid he might be in danger of losing his love. That she would turn into a ghost at any moment and his hand would pass right through her onto the sheets, and she’d float somewhere far away he couldn’t reach. Only when he sensed her own fingertips and cheek gently graze his knuckles did he feel safe.
“I’m scared, Don. What is the world coming to?”
“I don’t know, dear. But we’ll get through it. Humans are remarkably adaptable.”
A weak laugh. “You know, I heard a rumor from that crazy hacker teen down the street that NASA’s been working on a device that can capture these ‘monsters’ and shrink them down to fit in your pocket. Can you imagine that?”
Don chuckled and carefully replaced the baby monitor in its stand, then silenced the reporter as she was about to launch into a story about swarms of sentient shrooms causing traffic jams along the I-11. “Next thing you know we’ll have a bunch of hooligans running around with ‘pocket monsters’ and trying to beat each other up like you see in those dumb cartoons.”
“Dear lord, I hope not. It’s bad enough those “R” group terrorists are practically running the country. What the hell is the government doing?”
Don shook his head. “I don’t know. But for now the police are doing what they can on a local level to keep the situation in check. That’s why we had to trade in (what was left of) the K9 unit for these creatures. Those bastards would murder us otherwise. Some of those fiends can even block bullets.”
Mary nodded feebly. “I understand. I just… Don’t trust any of them. For a dog to breathe fire, or a rat to cause electrocution… It’s not natural.” She turned a pleading gaze to her husband. “I knew when I married a cop it’d be dangerous, but I never imagined anything like this to happen. Won’t you consider early retirement? You’ve served the force for 15 years, that’s plenty long enough.”
“You know this is something I can’t give up on. Besides, in this economy, we should be considered lucky to even have jobs. If I want to keep mine, I have to upgrade to the new system. Those are the rules. Which means getting familiar with my… ‘Partner’. If we can’t work together, it would jeopardize the entire team’s safety out in the field.”
After years of marriage, Mary knew when it was useless to try and get the man to budge once he’d made up his mind. She sighed and tried her next best tactic, which was to lie down and sulk while drawing the covers over her. Don was hurt, but knew he could always apologize and make up to her in the morning.
He didn’t dare tell her that the bureau was issuing prototypes of the new “battle capsules” to all participating officers next week. Not that he was supposed to. He also couldn’t let slip any confidential information about the terrorists, whose name so far had only been released to the public under their red letter insignia. The government was keeping their involvement with the defense program well under wraps, in order to avoid tracing back connections to the original firm that started this whole mess in the first place.
Most were unaware, but everything began in a small, publicly-funded research lab. Like something ripped straight out of a science-fiction novel, a team discovered how to mutate animal genes to give them what could only be described as superpowers. The experiments were soon replicated all over the country and even leaked abroad. Then, thanks to an organized attack by animal rights activists – possibly with the help of internal conspirists – thousands of specimens escaped. Since then, the State Institute of Life Project Health evolved into a monopoly corporation that manufactured specific equipment meant to aid public security. SILPH quickly overtook Apple as the nation’s largest tech company, dominating even the global industry. They were the ones behind the major development of the Pocket Ball™, not NASA.
Amidst all the chaos, an organized crime syndicate rose to power by taming some of the monsters and using them to carry out their own dirty schemes. This organization, self-designated as Team Rocket, had its influence in nearly every political sector. Evidence from backhanded business transactions seemed to suggest they might even have full, if not indirect control over SILPH’s operations.
Don paused and assuaged his eyes; he’d found himself staying up past 1AM, poring over all the various intel he’d gathered in an attempt to relieve his own restlessness. Months’ worth of private investigation was contained in this folder, which he finally felt confident to hand to the Chief first thing in the morning. As he closed the file, he glanced at Mary, who was already fast asleep. The old girl did have a point: The world was going to hell, and somebody needed to do something.
In fact, Team Rocket’s exploits were hardly the only matter of concern. Normal animal species were becoming endangered by the hundreds, as the fastforwarded process of natural selection favored mutants that could spit fire or crush steel. As much as the people called for decisive action, the broad community was often divided in opinion on what should be done. Ironically, animal support groups and extreme eco-terrorists took both sides of the issue, and as such the police were left trying to deal with moral disputes in addition to every isolated incident. Their lives were so occupied that they could hardly focus on the bigger picture. Problems ranged from calls by worried pet owners to report a housecat chased up a tree by a giant insect, to rally protests to stop the hunting and enslaving of creatures in the name of public safety.
What bothered Don the most, however, was the reported rising trend in the youth demographic that adolescents found these creatures “cool” and fascinating. Perhaps violent video games and television were to blame for fantasy escapism, but increasingly they’d get frantic calls from parents whose kids ran off to try and challenge the wild beasts in order to “catch” them. Many complained the police were setting a bad example by patrolling with their new team members, a protocol now required as both a safety precaution and a measure of fostering familiarity.
Though he didn’t think much of it at the time, Don was reminded of an event earlier in the day when he was attempting to go through a normal guard dog routine with it in the garden, and the creepy teenager Mary mentioned came over to watch from outside the fence.
“…That’s not how you train ‘em.”
He announced dully after a while.
Don turned to stare sternly at his critic, who responded with a goofy grin that made the man suspect the boy was on drugs.
“You gotta give it the name of an attack. Like BITE or HOWL.”
At that moment, a small squirrel darted across the lawn, stopping short a foot away from the beast’s razor claws. Though the canine didn’t budge an inch, Don sensed its slitted eye swivel towards him.
“It’s waiting for a command.” The teen leaned eagerly forward against the fence. Gradually, the corners of his mouth curled from a slight smirk into a sneer. “Why don’t you try telling it to use FLAMETHROWER?”
The beast appeared to tense at the word, a low growl escaping its throat. “Leave it,” Don snapped, and the rumbling immediately ceased, which the squirrel took as its cue to scamper safely away. Then, to the disappointed onlooker: “Kid, I think you’d better go home. Leave this to the professionals.”
“The only way to get stronger is by defeating your opponents, you know,” the boy muttered, seemingly to himself. “How else are you going to become the very best? The best there ever was?” Half-humming the last phrase, he sauntered off down the sidewalk.
The kid was obviously high, Don thought. The man had watched him leave with half a mind to chase after and bust him, but in the end he decided to let it go. He couldn’t leave the creature unattended in a residential area without a chain, and taking it out on the street at this stage would invite more unwanted attention. He let the boy off the hook for today, but the next time Don saw him he’d have some questions for him.
It wasn’t just kids who were proving to be strangely spellbound by these creatures’ special abilities. Many of the new recruits down at the station were ecstatic to finally receive their own partners; some were even looking forward to it after having first seen the handlers’ demonstration and upon hearing successful implementation stories from other districts. Don would often pass by the proverbial water cooler to hear officers boasting to each other about how tough his own monster was, and there were even some whispers of betting over backlot dogfights. Though he had no proof of illegal practice yet, once the Chief was made aware of the depths of the Rockets’ corruption within the system, Don would urge him to also launch an internal investigation.
As for himself… Don wasn’t sure how he felt about all the changes. He believed in his own creed that adaptability was necessary for survival, so he had accepted the new laws and duties without complaint, simply carrying out his daily business as usual. But he was avoiding the real question. As he gazed towards the window, he tried to imagine what sort of appeal such a bizarre creature would hold for some. When he brought it home, even his own son excitedly exclaimed that he wanted to become a cop when he grew up so he could have one of his own. Though Don had no interest in abusing power or status, he had to admit it gave him a bit of a thrill when he paraded the oddity around the block to the admiration and awe of passerby.
On the flip side, he wasn’t exactly as afraid of it as Mary and most other sensible persons were. A bit nervous, perhaps, but the kid and the handlers were right about one thing: It would never act unless told to. After a couple days of close training together, he’d come to the conclusion it was about as tame and trustworthy as a normal dog, perhaps even more so. Who knows, despite its terrifying appearance, it might even be family-friendly if Mary would give the thing a chance.
It was nearly 3AM when he heard it. As he was drifting off to sleep, thinking he might try to slowly condition it and his wife to each other’s presence, a loud bark jolted him awake. Followed by another. This time was higher, almost frantic. There was a snarling, then a banging, a crash, a yelp, whine, and then silence. Jumping out of bed, Don hastened to the window and opened it. For some reason, the garden was lit brightly enough for him to see the kennel door was ajar, or more accurately, ripped apart. Bent and warped as if something had clawed and rammed into it repeatedly, it dangled haphazardly on its hinge. The beast was nowhere to be seen.
“Damnit!” Don cursed, and was about to run downstairs to phone in a report that one of the monsters went mad and was on the loose in the suburbs when he smelled something that stopped him cold…
Smoke. He stuck his head out the window, and saw to his alarm that the light wasn’t coming from the streetlamps, but from the orange glow of flames that were licking at the lower levels of his house. He reeled back, hitting his head against the frame with such force that he nearly blacked out. Focusing all his remaining consciousness into his lungs and feet, he managed to scream out as he stumbled to the bed where his wife was still sleeping.
“Mary! Wake up! There’s a fire!”
Mary woke with a start to see her husband clutching his head, which appeared to be bleeding. “Don? What’s going on? What happened to you? Are you all right?” Before she even received an answer, she found herself being helped out of bed and pushed towards the door. “Don, what-”
“Get Zack and Emy, and take them outside. Hurry. The house is on fire.”
The look of concern became replaced with one of shock and fear. “What about Isabelle?”
“I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry. Just go!”
She nodded and ran to the kids’ bedroom closer to the stairs, and Don staggered down the hallway in the opposite direction. He coughed, feeling the heat and smog rising from the first floor. As he prayed for the other three to make it out safely, he reached out for the nursery door handle. Suddenly, he heard a loud crash coming from within the room, and he flung the door open to a sight that nearly made his heart stop: There the creature stood atop a carpet of broken glass, presumably from the shattered window behind it, through which branches of the large oak in the garden could be seen waving. What commanded all of Don’s concentration though, was the image of his darling daughter wrapped in a blanket, hanging from the slavering jaws of the beast.
“Drop her. This instant.”
In a blind rage, he stumbled forward, and pierced his feet on the numerous shards. Crying out in pain, he would’ve fallen face-first into a sea of tiny spears had the beast not sprang forward to steady him. He felt the creature’s warm snout gently but firmly nudge him towards the door, and thankful acknowledgement dawned on him. Securing its own hold of the precious bundle, it allowed the wounded man to tightly grip its fur for support as it led him to the stairs. The heat and haze barely seemed to affect its purpose as it carefully navigated the living room, finally emerging through the open front door onto the safety of the lawn.
Once they were a fair distance away from the blaze, the creature deposited its tiny passenger on the cool grass with utmost care, unharmed and still fast asleep. Don reached down and affectionately rubbed the Houndoom’s head.
“Thank you.”
He then turned to look for his wife and other children, feeling safe in knowing they must have gotten out since the door was left open. He was so absorbed in scanning the street for signs of them, that he didn’t register the sound of snarling in the direction of the house until it barked.
“What is it, girl?” He turned, and what he saw made his blood truly run cold.
Towering over him was a massive form that could only be accurately described as belonging to a dragon. From the tips of its horns, to its vellum wings, down a humongous body covered in golden scales, culminating in a long lizard tail – as if these didn’t scream fantastical, its end was torched in flame, burning fiercely yet mysteriously seeming to support the bearer’s life rather than injure it.
Clutched in its giant claws was a familiar figure – Mary’s.
“Tch. How boring. I was hoping at least one of you would burn.”
Like a trance, Don rotated to face the speaker. It was the boy from earlier, standing on the other side of the fence this time. He was wearing a black shirt with a character printed on the front, fully illuminated by the roaring inferno: A shining, blood-red R.
His eyes lit up when he approached the frozen man. “Is that what I think it is? I’m amazed you thought to bring it to me while your house was burning down, but I guess it’s convenient. Hand it over.”
It took Don a moment to realize the teen was pointing at something he was holding. He uncrumpled the file detailing Team Rocket’s underground activities for the past year, and held it out, hands shaking.
“You can have it. Just please, let my wife and kids go.”
The teen blinked. “Kids? Oh, you mean those brats. They’re already dead. Those whiny little things are hardly more than a snack for Brutus here. Want to see what he did to them?”
“No! Don’t!”
Hearing voices, Mary’s eyes flickered open for an instant. The frightened face of her husband swam hazily in and out of her vision. “Don…”
“CRUNCH.”
Don sank to his knees. His Houndoom had leapt forward to try and save her, but it was too late. A wide sweep of the dragon’s tail knocked her back, just as the woman’s blood splattered all over the lawn, staining even the pure white covers of the sleeping infant.
The boy strolled forth and reached out for the folder, which had also dropped to the earth. Don snapped back in control for a moment and made a grab for the file, struggling to his feet. There was nothing more the boy could do to him, he was simply an empty shell that operated on instinct alone. Likewise he knew there was nothing he could do, but he had to know.
“Why are you doing this?”
The boy grinned like it was his birthday, as if he had been waiting for that question.
“Don’t you know Team Rocket’s motto? ‘To protect the world from devastation! To unite all peoples within our nation!’ …But honestly, I could care less about that shit. I just wanted to say it once.”
“Then why?”
To his horror, the boy shrugged. “Because it’s friggin’ awesome. Plus I can get back at bullies and stuff this way.” He laughed. “Fuck humans. Fuck society. Gotta kill ‘em all.”
“…You’re insane.”
“Whatever. Now give me the file.”
“No. Houndoom, use BITE!”
The dog’s fangs sank into the boy’s hand as he reached again for the folder. He cursed and ordered ‘Brutus’ to attack with an AIR SLASH. A sharp gale cut across the Houndoom’s belly, forcing her to relinquish her hold. Don felt some of the remaining impact, and winced as it stung like a razor, knocking the wind out of him.
“See? This is why humans are weak, and deserve to die. Like this, watch. Blade, use SLASH!”
Don suddenly felt something sharp plunge into his backside. He looked down and realized what appeared to be a scythe sticking out from his chest. There was a horrible squelching sound as it retreated back into his cavity and out the other side, and he fell to the ground, choking and sputtering some warm, red liquid. His vision blurred. He could barely make out something white lying on the ground next to him, and a dark figure crouched above.
“Save… Isabelle…”
He whispered with the last of his breath. The darkness obeyed, picking up the white bundle and racing off with it into the distance. He could hear the boy’s gloating voice, floating close yet far away at the same time.
“Let it go. It’s our alibi. People will think it started the fire, and attacked the residents as they came out of the house. Go and check if there are any witnesses. If you find any, you know what to do. They’ll just blame it all on a rogue monster that escaped its Master, and focus on capturing it instead.”
As his sight slowly darkened, he saw another shadow hunch over him. Despite his failing senses, there was no mistaking it was human this time. He vaguely registered an object being wrenched out of his clamped hand.
The final sentence Officer Don heard before his death was then posed to him in the form of a riddle:
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. What do you get when you add another stroke to the letter P?”
Team Rocket blast off at the speed of light…
Surrender now or prepare to fight.
*insert "Ashton Kutcher wants to be the very best" joke here*