《Magical Girl Anathema Arms Dealer》


 1 - Legally Distinct

    "Oh great, I''ve been kidnapped. Again."


    I was in a metal cage in the middle of a small outdoor shed. I could tell it was outdoors because it smelled like grass and dirt. And rain. It was weird how rain had a smell. I wonder what causes that? It must not have been raining right now, as I didn''t hear any drops hitting the corrugated metal roof. It also must be a fairly remote area, since they hadn''t done anything to gag me this time. Real rustic vibes. It made me think I was dealing with some kind of cannibal butcher pervert. That was a bit weird.


    I obviously wasn''t worried about it. If anything, I''d worry for the poor sucker who''d orchestrated my non-consensual relocation. I wasn''t, though, because why would I be? Even a normal person probably wouldn''t be sorry to see their kidnapper turn into the victim. And I was looking forward to this one, I had to admit. I hope it''s gonna be something interesting.


    It was usually just inconvenient, but there were a few times where I got to play the part of a terrified little rich girl caught in the middle of an armed dick measuring contest. There was also the one time where I got to bliss out on a fuckton of sedatives for free and with zero blame or damage to my own image. Fun, but not something I was interested in deliberately trying to repeat.


    It wasn''t like I was kidnapped every other week, either. It had been a little over a year since the last one, but once was already way out of the norm. And it wasn''t like I was trying to get kidnapped. Illegal arms traffickers just kept deciding that abducting the daughter of the director of the largest legal arms trafficker would give them some kind of leverage in whatever shit they were trying to pull. I never bothered to learn all the details.


    And maybe it would have worked if I was actually the daughter of the guy in charge of the leading anathema defense contractor. David Huntingfield of Vanguard Technologies¨Clikely a sexy sounding name at one point¨Cwas more of a guy who I pretended to live with. My real dad was an actual Star Guardian. A pretty famous one, and also a shit dad, ''cause he went and dumped me with David. He only visited a few times a year and it felt like he was taking notes the whole time. Kinda creepy.


    The one upside was that he cared enough to keep retrieving me from would-be hostage crises, although I was starting to get suspicious. None of my kidnappings ever made the news, and if he could show up so quickly, why was I able to get taken in the first place? I think he was using me as bait. Save biological kid, root out crime syndicate. Not quite two birds. One and a half, maybe.


    None of that changed the fact I was currently in a wire cage, though, and it wasn''t comfortable in any way. I wanted to get out sooner rather than later, if only to stretch and sit on something a bit more comfortable. And since my hands weren''t bound and there were a bunch of old tools and random junk nearby, it might not even be hard. Which is kind of suspicious.


    It''s like I''m supposed to make some kind of clever escape. But why? The sound of multiple approaching voices kicked my mounting suspicion up a notch. I couldn''t quite make out proper words yet, but I''d been through this enough times to develop an instinctual feeling that approaching captors didn''t sound like that. Other hostages?


    "We need to check. There could be someone still alive in this one." A man''s voice, young and gruff. And what''s this about ''still alive in this one?'' I didn''t like the sound of that. "Even if there isn''t, there could be more weapons or supplies."


    I frowned. It could be one of two things here. Either I wasn''t the only victim, or the people responsible for this were putting on some kind of weird act. Some lame psychological bullshit? I wasn''t sure. Even if the first option turned out to be true, it didn''t lower my suspicion of how easy they''d clearly made it for us to get out. Either way, it''s not good. Just have to survive until Dad shows up.


    I was startled out of my thoughts when the shoddy wooden door of the shed slammed open. I say slammed, but it was more like it exploded inwards. A genuine Rambo strode through the shattered entrance. His look came complete with sweat-slicked muscles and a shitty headband. He could use a little more dirt and blood, but he was on his way to getting there. I raised an eyebrow.


    "Hey! There''s someone in here!" Turning back to me, he tried to look tough and in control while also presenting himself as non-threatening. It didn''t really work, and he could clearly tell it was just awkward. Clearing his throat, he gestured around at me and the rest of the shed. "I uh. I mean, we also woke up in cages like that. No goddamn idea what''s going on yet, but we''ll get you out first, yeah?"


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    I gave a short, timid nod. I decided to remain quiet for now. I didn''t have much idea what was going on either, including whether any of what he''d just said was the truth. Adding to my suspicion was the fact that I''d never had company any of the times before this. It wasn''t really evidence that Mr. Legally Distinct Rambo was lying, but once again, it made me wary. Either case came with its own issues.


    Nodding as well¨Cmore to himself than to me¨Cthe living relic of 1980s masculinity stepped closer and ripped off a side of the cage. No tools, not even a stick for leverage. He just gripped on both sides of one of the edges and pulled the thing apart. Holy muscles. Action hero indeed. Still, there must have been an easier way. He''d also kicked apart the door instead of opening it like a normal person, so the guy had a clear interest in presentation. At least he does have the strength to back it up.


    I was still in the cage, so I had to crawl my way out onto the soft, half-rotten wooden boards. Shakily, I stood to my full height¨Can imposing 5 foot negative 2 inches. Or one and a half meters if you''re a scientist or Canadian. Or both. There are definitely plenty of scientists in Canada. "Uh, thanks," I squeaked out, shaking and acting like I couldn''t meet anyone''s eyes. Which was annoying, because I really wanted to see the look on Not-Rambo''s face right now. "I, uhm.."


    "We''re gonna get you out of here. We''re all getting out of here." I had to hide a smirk when he said that. This guy really does know his lines, I thought. I was starting to really hope that this part of it wasn''t all fake. Not because I was worried about the situation, but because I was starting to look forward to seeing this guy in action. Finding out he was part of some weird psychological tactic against me would be like finding out a crazy video on social media was a staged skit in the comments.


    There was a brief lapse in the action, and I took that opportunity to nervously glance around at the other people who''d trailed behind Rambo. I counted four. Two guys and two girls. The first guy looked like a shittier knockoff of the better Rambo knockoff, and the other guy looked like he''d accidentally wandered through the fourth wall of a corporate training video. The first woman, the older one, looked like she was going to cut public transport funding after the next election cycle while the second, younger one looked ready to make a video essay on why that was a horrible evil idea.


    It didn''t take me long to give each of them a name. Let''s see... How about Rambo 2, Mrs Budgetcuts, and Class President? Wait, I forgot about Corporate Training Guy¨Ctoo long. I''ll just call him Jeff. He looks like his name is Jeff.


    "We''re all gonna make it out?" Rambo 2 shook his head and scoffed. "Go tell that to Brian."


    I''d already pegged him as the least interesting member of the group, behind even Jeff, and was prepared to use him as fodder. Just in case things actually get deadly. But considering what he''d just said, that sounded likely. It was safe to say I was now concerned. Good job Rambo 2. You already managed to say something vaguely interesting.


    The original Rambo winced. Clearly, this ''Brian'' didn''t make it. I wanted to know why. I couldn''t just ask what killed him though, because that would ruin the persona I''d started with. Instead, I let my eyes flick between them, and, with a quivering lip, just asked his name like it was a question. "Brian?"


    "Brian was.. he was the first other..." Rambo coughed. "The first person we encountered out here. Before you. He... didn''t make it."


    I had to remember not to roll my eyes. Gee thanks, idiot. That tells me everything. I trusted that Rambo 2 would be my savior here, though, and I was fortunately proved correct.


    "Damn right he didn''t make it. His whole head got eaten by a god-damned fucking Anathema. Big fucking lizard monster." Rambo 2 grimaced. "No way it was an accident, either. I don''t know about any of you¨Cbut I''ve survived an incursion. And this? Right here, right now? We''re not inside of one."


    Class president gasped and Jeff went a bit pale. Mrs. Budgetcuts, though, looked thoughtful. "You''re right that there''s no active incursion nearby," she said, "which means whoever brought us here¨Cthey have captive Anathema. This isn''t what I assumed. We''re not hostages. We''re food."


    My eyes widened, and it was a genuine reaction. This was bad¨Creally bad. It was still possible this could all be some weird trick¨Cbut I was beginning to doubt it. The option where these people were genuine captives like me had grown far more dangerous. The best thing to do now was to assume with full certainty that it was the case.


    Fucking damn it. I really needed my deadbeat dad to get his ass over here, wipe out this Anathema cult facility or whatever the fuck it was, and get my ass out of here. I was no longer interested in seeing what bullshit was about to happen. Bullshit, however, had a way of showing up when it was the least convenient. We all turned to face in the same direction as something pushed its way through the trees.


    Fuck this bullshit. To break through the boundaries of a persona was disgusting. I hated it. I avoided it as best I could, even when it made things way more difficult. But it wasn''t impossible, and right now? I''d rather stay alive until my personal Star Guardian arrived to save the day. We''d only gotten the barest glimpse of the unnatural beast stalking forward between the trees¨Cbut that was more than enough.


    And while I might be small, I wasn''t powerless.


    Stepping back, I swept Class President''s legs out from under her, sending her to the ground with a panicked yelp¨Cand before anyone could figure out what just happened or react¡­


    I ran.

 2 - The Real Main Character

    I was pretty sure no one saw that it was me who sent Class President tumbling. That was good, because I had no intention of leaving the whole group behind, and sticking with them would prove difficult if I gained a reputation for sacrificing other people. Safety in numbers was critical to humanity''s ongoing success, and it was the reason modern civilization could weather the storm of Anathema incursions without being totally dependent on Star Guardians. Having those Guardians was a big help, though¡ªand speaking of which, any fucking moment would be appreciated, jackass. For the first time since the age of ten, I was scared.


    The shed I''d woken up in was in some kind of deciduous forest, and the humid air hinted at a temperate coastal location. I knew this not because I was some kind of geography or tree expert, but from the bare minimum of¡ªfuck, is it deductive reason or inductive reasoning? What''s even the difference? Point is, I happened to know at least one fancy tree word. It wasn''t a pine forest. It also wasn''t any kind of jungle. That was good, because as far as running for you life between a bunch of trees went, this was the least bad option. Or maybe I''ve just watched too many slasher films and Vietnam documentaries.


    Gah! Focus!


    There was another shed not very far ahead, and that''s where I ran. I didn''t look back, but I could tell that at least some of the others were following not too far behind. From the sound of it, at least one sounded like they were catching up, which really wasn''t surprising. While I wasn''t totally out of shape, I wasn''t a paragon of athleticism, either, and having short little legs didn''t do me any favors. So, as confident as I could reasonably be that my rear was covered for the moment, I focused on making sure I wasn''t running head first into certain death.


    I stopped and turned around when I finally reached the shed. I didn''t go in immediately, because one, that was how you got killed first when the second monster made its dramatic appearance, and second, I remembered Rambo saying something like ''more supplies.'' I was pretty sure the others had already looted this place. Kind of tempted to see if there''s a dead body in there, though. I''d seen fewer of those than you might think, and I was super curious.


    So, leaning against the shed wall and catching my breath, I took stock of how the situation had developed. Three people in total were about to reach me, and they weren''t quite who I expected. Jeff, of all people, was the one in the lead, and Mrs. Budgetcuts was trailing a few seconds behind him. The last of the three, Rambo 2, was in the process of overtaking both of them. Sure, Class President was absent, which was reasonable¡ªbut where the fuck was the original Rambo? And Jeff was the first to take off after me? Seriously?


    I admit to a bit of annoyance as what remained of the group closed in. Survival of the fittest was a principle that only applied as a statistical average. The original Rambo had always been the most promising muscle of the group, so I considered losing him this early to be kind of bad. But as the group of three regrouped around me, I realized that I might have been mistaken. Rambo wasn''t dead¡ªand neither was Class president. The latter was also running towards us, though she was still way behind.


    The fact that she was still alive and coming towards us concerned me. However, she only held a sliver of my current attention. The rest of it remained focused on our one and only legally distinct Rambo.


    The heroic idiot must have tried to help Class President instead of ditching her like the rest of us. But, instead of trying to pick her up and outrun the Anathema while carrying her, he did what was possibly the only thing that was both braver and stupider. Cementing his role as the true main character here, he stood his ground in an effort to buy time for the rest of us¡ªby fighting the damn thing.


    And he was winning.


    With an gardening hatchet in his main hand and a fucking trowel in the other, the six feet of manly muscle traded blows with a catlike, bony reptilian at least twice his size. The pale, rough skin stretching taught as a drum over way too many bones marked the four legged beast as one of the weaker kinds of Anathema, fittingly known to by most people as a skinner. The name was a reference to both the thin, tight, and not quite human skin stretched over its hollow frame, but also to the excess of razor sharp, bony protrusions. It was also probably only a Tier 1, since it hadn''t already obliterated us with some esoteric ability.


    Still, it should have been more than a match for a regular human, even one armed with a standard firearm. But Rambo didn''t even have that. All he had was a shitty hatchet and a cheap trowel. Yet the man wasn''t just holding the monster off. He was wounding it.


    It only took a few more seconds for Class President to catch up, and in that time, Rambo scored a deep gash across the Anathema''s flank when it tried to circle around him. The creature didn''t bleed, though, which fit with what I knew about skinners. Namely, that they didn''t have any kind of blood. At this point, it was tempting to just stand around like an idiot and watch the origin story of the next Star Guardian. But I had zero doubt a single skinner was the only thing we were up against. We hadn''t seen any of the Anathema cultists yet¡ªand I also needed to deal with Class President.


    I did my best not to react when she caught up to us. I didn''t ignore her, because that would make me seem guilty if she were suspicious, but uncertain, that I''d kicked her to the ground to use as temporary bait. The other girl, in turn, didn''t have any obvious reaction to me, either, and she didn''t start flinging accusations. She just caught her breath, looked around, and then stared back at the ongoing fight between the main character and his very first Anathema.


    He''s totally going to become a Guardian for this. That, or another Anathema. I really hope it''s the first one.


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    A lot of information about Anathema and the formation of incursions was kept away from the public, and the same went for Guardians¡ªand doubly so for true Star Guardians. Even though my own father was one, I didn''t really know anything more than most. The man barely even interacted with me, and when he did, it wasn''t like he was going to divulge any cosmic secrets that not even governments knew, just because I asked. And yes, I''d asked.


    But pretty much everyone knew the same set of basics.


    Incursions formed when you gathered a whole bunch of Anathema in one place. When the saturation of Anathema in an area grew high enough, breaches in reality would start forming that would let in more of the interdimensional monsters. The more potent the individual Anathema were, and the more of them there were, the bigger and stronger the breaches would become. It was part of a feedback cycle, causing incursions to grow bigger and deadlier if left unchecked.


    But that was only one half of the cycle. You also had to account for the human factor.


    While the more powerful nations around the world were quick to adapt to the Anathema threat when the first incursions began at the turn of the 1990s, the whole planet would have fared a lot worse had it not been for the emergence of Guardians shortly after. While exceptionally dangerous, Tier 1 and even Tier 2 Anathema were within the capabilities of well-equipped professional soldiers at the time. Several tiers higher, and the threat grew tremendously. However, it wasn''t enough to become insurmountable, because there was an equally tremendous gap between a few soldiers and the might of a full, late cold war army, air force, or navy.


    By that point, the human death toll from the Anathema would still have been immense, even discounting all the collateral damage. But the highest tiers Anathema weren''t content to stop there. Those were the reasons why, within the first month of 1991, London went from being a populated capital to a radioactive crater. Had the first Star Guardians not entered the fight, a lot more cities would have followed suit. Thankfully, they did. The great cold war arsenals stayed in reserve, and France remained the only other nation to strike with nuclear weapons after the United States had decades earlier.


    Reality-eating monsters weren''t the only newcomers to our reality, and a tiny fraction of humans bonded with so-called Star Cores. The superhuman¡ªsupernatural¡ªabilities they developed as a result turned the tide against the Anathema incursions hard enough to avert a looming nuclear cataclysm. Even today, after decades of rapid-paced R&D, a single true Star Guardian was worth hundreds of millions in cutting-edge military tech, and that was at a minimum.


    But that was only true Star Guardians, those who bonded with the elusive Star Cores. Normal Guardians were dramatically less potent and had become far more abundant. They were the lesser brethren of Star Guardians. While the origin and true nature of the Star Cores was an information black hole, the general public knew a lot more about how people became ordinary Guardians. It happened during incursions, when the same kind of energy produced by the Star Cores leaked through the breach and gravitated to a particular person. The abilities it produced, while impressive, were a far cry from those displayed by true Star Guardians, and in fact, wasn''t the main source of a Guardian''s power. That came later, when the new Guardian began the continual process of refining, cultivating, and augmenting it.


    And all this brings us back to our trowel-wielding action hero. He couldn''t become a normal Guardian, as we''d already established we weren''t in any incursion. But who knew how new star cores chose people? Not me, that''s for sure, so it might be possible. I did know that regular Guardians were often people who went out of their way to protect others during incursions, or at the very least, did an unusually good job at surviving.


    Unfortunately, it was the other possibility that was the most likely. Incursions were what allowed ever growing numbers of Anathema to invade our reality, but they weren''t the only source. If they were, then the combined might of the world powers and Star Guardians would have wiped away the entire problem within just the first few years. The reason they didn''t was because there was a second way for Anathema to manifest in our reality¡ªhumans.


    Under extreme conditions, ordinary people could become... invaded. They didn''t so much turn into Anathema as allow the nascent monster to take root like a tumor. Then, it would grow, and grow, and grow, until it consumed everything that was once a person as fuel, leaving nothing but a senseless need for violence and unceasing hunger. That alone wasn''t nearly enough to cause an incursion, but it was a start. Exposure to Anathema increased the susceptibility of others in turn¡ªand so the cycle once again continued.


    Objectively speaking, this was the much more likely option for our dear Rambo. I wonder if that''s what the plan is¡ªif there are more people nearby, maybe someone is trying to make an artificial incursion?


    I said it was a bad idea to just stand around like idiots and watch him, but that''s pretty much what the rest of us did. I, of course, made sure to keep checking our surroundings. I also peeked through a hole in the wall of the shed, confirming my suspicion that it had been looted for anything of worth. There was also a dead body. What was left of it, I should say. I wonder if this was Brian? It was hard to determine anything from the mangled strips of tissue that remained. I wrinkled my nose. Fucking gross.


    Shaking my head, I pulled my face away and leaned back against the wall, returning to scanning our surroundings for any more danger. It was getting a bit nervous, waiting for something to happen. I doubted there was just one Anathema in this whole place, wherever it was. And I also couldn''t forget that we were all kidnapped by someone and brought here. The last thing I remember, it was near midnight, and I''d just gotten my order at a late night cafe. I don''t remember any other customers... did the fucking barista spike my drink?


    Being on guard as I was, and leaning against the shed, I was the first to feel something in the structure¡ªshift. Frowning, I looked up, at the edge of the roof. I didn''t hear anything, but as I watched, the edge of the corrugated sheet metal flexed just slightly¡ªand when I strained my hearing, I did hear a slight creaking. Something was up there. And I''m pretty sure it''s not Santa Claus.


    I considered saying something¡ªbut before I could decide on whether to speak up or watch things play out, the creature on the roof made my decision for me. Slipping over the edge, a second skinner dropped down in front of me¡ªlanding directly on top of Mrs. Budgetcuts. There was a crunch, and someone screamed.


    Despite it all, I was surprised to find that I''d started to grin.


    That''s definitely Mrs. Budgetcuts down... let''s see how many end up making it through round two.

 3 - Hatchling

    Everyone scattered.


    We all ran in different directions, this time. Well, we weren''t all together in one group. I didn''t bother with tracking where each person went, since they weren''t different enough for it to be important. As for myself, I ran straight past the second skinner while it was still going to town on Mrs. Budgetcuts. It was a deliberate choice¡ªI intended to run right back in the direction we''d come from the moment I realized something was on the roof. There were only two people I considered individually important here, and one of them was Rambo.


    The other was me.


    But seriously, why would anyone run off alone into Anathema infested trees instead of immediately trying to regroup with the one guy who was in the process of killing one with literal gardening tools? I could not think of a single good argument in favor of doing that. They must be panicking. Rather than laugh at them, I chose to take it as a reminder that it was easy to make poor decisions when things were happening too quickly. It was also true that I was relying on Rambo to actually pull through.


    I sure hope you didn''t massively fumble things while I was distracted, dude. Because if you did... Well, I would quickly become very sad.


    As I came closer to the starting location¡ªmy starting location¡ªI was relieved to see the hero was just now finishing up. The hideous and vile cat-dragon runt had fallen to the champion''s blade, which he''d buried deep into the Anathema''s sinuous neck. It looked like it had taken a lot more than a single blow, though. Was he just hacking at it like a log? It sure looked like it. But regardless, the hero stood triumphant, and his shield was unbroken. Trowel, whatever. Close enough. I was pretty sure there were real historical shields that were also pretty small, used for, like, blocking. Is that what a buckler is? I should have paid more attention in games. And every shield is used for blocking, that''s literally the point, genius.


    The man looked exhausted. He was a true powerhouse, that was indisputable by this point. But even the craziest, most improbable people had their limits. The fact that he was even standing was remarkable, so it was really no surprise that he looked ready to keel over¡ªbut he didn''t. There was still a little bit of the current scene left before he''d get some relative down-time. Then we''d patch up his wounds as best we could, strategize a little, and maybe find a walkie-talkie so he could drop a couple badass lines over channel 9.


    He''d already cemented his role as the main character. Now, it was my turn to cement myself as the heroic love interest. At least until I can get my ass out of here.


    Chest heaving, he dropped the stupid trowel. After staggering a few steps back, he finally looked up, just in time to meet my own gaze. I was pretty sure my eyes were already as wide as they could get, so I skipped ahead and rushed forward. "Here, let me help you." I knew fuckall about first aid, but I was still prepared to start ripping my shirt up and sensually tying strips of it around him. "Are you hurt?"


    His breath was pretty shaky, and by this point he''d accumulated the rest of the dirt, sweat, and miscellaneous filth that he was missing just a few minutes earlier. He leaned against me for balance¡ªmore like on top of me, with our stupid height difference¡ªand started to say something. But we were interrupted by a nearby explosion.


    And holy shit, explosions were fucking loud! I knew that, of course, but experiencing it was a different thing entirely. Much like gunshots, movies were misleading. In both cases, the live experience was less impressive sounding, shorter, and mostly just way too fucking loud! In the case of explosives, it was because of something that a lot of people didn''t seem to understand¡ªthat bombs weren''t weapons of fire, but weapons of earth and air. Well, sort of. There were, of course, whole classes of partial exceptions, but in general, heat was the most comparatively minor component, and only at very close range.


    Point is, ''explosion damage'' was primarily fluid shock forces¡ªthe air¡ªand fragmentation from all the solid shit it kicked up. I digress. Point is, that blast is gonna be loud.


    The more relevant topic right now was where the fuck did that come from? I was pretty sure the blast came from the direction of the other shed, the one with the pieces of Brian and Mrs. Budgetcuts. I was also pretty sure it wasn''t our mysterious kidnappers, because why would they do that? Granted, I didn''t know why they were doing any of this, so it was still a decent possibility. The best case was that the Civil Guard had shown up, or it could just be some random guardians.


    It didn''t look like either, though. It had definitely been right by the shed, since the whole structure had partially collapsed. There was also no sign of the other skinner, which was worrying. I hoped the explosion got rid of it, but I wasn''t going to count on it. In fact, the only other thing I could see was Class President, now running towards us again. I squashed down my sudden irritation. Her joining up with us was logically a good development, as it was more numbers again. Despite that, I was annoyed because it threatened my role as the star love interest. That role could now fall to her, and if that happened, it would make me into the unsympathetic bitch who gets killed. Damn it!


    She slowed down once she reached us, and I immediately noticed a few notable differences. Originally, her midnight black hair had been styled neat but loose, but at some point she''d tied it up in a goofy cross between a bun and a ponytail. She''d also ditched her weird sweater-jacket thing, leaving her in just a sports bra, revealing actual abs. The fuck? Was my nickname for her completely wrong? I was starting to think that it was. She was also clutching a small plastic carton of something. I think I remembered seeing that earlier, but I didn''t pay attention to it. I couldn''t easily read the label, but based on the vibe of the visible branding, it was some kind of, what¡ªfertilizer? I wasn''t sure.


    "Hey."


    "Uh, hey." I was the one who responded, since Rambo was too busy leaning on top of me. It was getting old quickly. Why does he have to be so damn heavy? And sweaty. Ew. I never wanted to actually touch him for a prolonged amount of time. I wanted to get my points for thirty seconds of playing nurse and then move on. I never liked touching people, and this guy was going to need the mother of all showers. "We heard that explosion... Did you see what happened?"


    She didn''t answer me immediately, instead taking her time to look around carefully. Smart. We were still standing in the middle of it, after all, and rather literally at that. Satisfied, she turned back to us and held up her plastic carton. Stump remover, I realized, and it only took a second for the pieces to click. I was studying materials engineering, not chemistry, but I was also supposed to be the daughter of David Huntingfield. It would be kind of weird if I didn''t know basic trivia about IEDs¡ªso I knew the active ingredient in that stuff was a powerful oxidizer.


    Obviously, you couldn''t just go straight from ''box of yard chemicals'' to ''actual bomb.'' The only reason it was possible was through exploiting the skinner''s unique biology¡ªor whatever you could say passed for it.


    Skinner''s had this weird tendency to suck things up through their skin, kind of like a frog. The difference was that it didn''t even have to be liquid, and it happened way too fast. The most common image in the cultural eye was a blood-soaked skinner slowly soaking up the blood like a demented sponge. Where did it go? No idea, since skinner''s literally didn''t have blood. It just soaked straight into that creepy, almost human skin.


    This was a very good thing, because it gave them a unique vulnerability. Any kind of corrosive chemical, for instance, would affect them way faster than you''d expect, and there were all kinds of ways anti-Anathema weapons exploited this. It seems Class President¡ªI still might need a different name¡ªwas also aware of this, and took a gamble by trying to turn the thing into a living bomb. I guess it worked.


    Of course, there was still a missing component. How did she ignite it? The answer was basically the same. Skinner''s didn''t just absorb extra chemicals, they also absorbed things like radiation and heat. Not enough to instantly freeze their surroundings, but enough to be significant. An absolute menace to the ordinary, squishy little human, they became a hilarious punching bag for all kinds of wacky shit weapons manufacturers came up with. And it seemed that included dusting the thing in saltpeter, converting its alien flesh into a fuel oxidizer mixture that went kaboom when it reached the super hot inner core


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    And yep, that was the exact explanation she gave. I almost whistled. I''m definitely going to have to remember this one and bring it up to David. Could make for a cool PR stunt video. I could already picture it. A scene basically like this one, like a clip from a movie. The love interest cornered, the hero standing between her and an inevitable flaying... a hopeless last stand, until boom! The badass, lesbian-coded female sidekick blows them all up with household chemicals! Hell yeah!


    Wait.


    My brain glitched out for a moment. My subconscious had just hit upon something¡ªan insight! Without knowing it, I''d saved my own place in the narrative. Of course I was still the love interest! Class President wasn''t Class President at all¡ªshe was the gay best friend. It''s all coming together now¡ªexcept for the part where my useless, good for nothing, literal Star Guardian dad shows up and solves everything. Fuck!


    While I was lost in my thoughts, it seemed we''d all started walking. I wasn''t sure where we were going, just that Rambo and Sidekick had seemingly decided on some kind of plan. That was fine by me. They''d both proven themselves competent in this situation, and I was super glad I hadn''t run off like Jeff or Rambo 2. I wonder what''s going on with those guys. Which one is gonna die first? I bet it''s gonna be Rambo 2, actually. Cutaways of Jeff surviving alone for way too long is definitely the comic relief in this instance.


    We seemed to be slogging our way up a hill. That made sense. It might give us a good vantage point to figure out what else was around us. It was hard to imagine it was nothing but a couple sheds in trees without even a fence or anything. Alternatively, we might not be able to see anything. It wasn''t a very big hill. Along the way, we started hearing more sounds, which were a mix of things crashing, moving through the leaves, people shouting, and alarming monster sounds.Yup, there are definitely more people. And Anathema. Great.


    No one said anything. What were we supposed to do about it? Cry? We just kept walking. Either something would attack us or it wouldn''t. I was placing my bets on the former¡ªand soon.


    I was right.


    It had been a few minutes since we made it to the top of the hill. It wasn''t a great viewpoint, but we did see a metal fence in the distance, and we unanimously decided to head in that direction. If you were kidnapped and put in some kind of Anathema zoo enclosure, then the other side of the fence was probably the side where the ultra-violent monsters weren''t. It was an easy decision, even after I pointed out that we were likely to encounter more calculated resistance. If I were the one sticking people in the Anathema enclosure¡ªfor entertainment, for illegal experiments, for some kind of cult, it didn''t really matter¡ªI would want to make sure nobody made it out. That meant taking measures to take out anyone who looked like they were about to succeed.


    We went for the fence anyway, because I had no interest in trying to dissuade them. It was a warning.


    The sounds of people fighting and dying seemed to grow quieter as we descended the other side of the hill and got closer to the perimeter. That made a certain amount of sense, because I would also have put the people all closer to the center if I were running something like this. It was also quite fortunate, because we never ended up encountering another Anathema. Just walking straight to the edge uncontested felt like cheating. Not that I''m complaining.


    And then we were at the fence. It was a nasty looking thing, cluttered with barbed wire and definitely electrified. The latter wasn''t going to be a problem, though, but something to be wary of. This was because, upon stepping closer, I realized that the non-barbed wires all had little red or black tapes on them. They weren''t at all obvious, only having a single faded, tiny piece of plastic every twenty feet or so. Just pick a color, be very careful to only ever touch your chosen color, don''t touch both the fence and the ground, and you were good. Probably. I think.


    I was quick to point it out to the other two, and Sidekick seemed to agree. She also agreed that we could be dead wrong, but it was a worthwhile risk. Seeing that we both came to the same conclusion, Rambo decided to trust us, and, of course, volunteered himself to test it. And I am absolutely not going to complain. Be my fucking guest.


    Good news, he didn''t get fried, so we started climbing over as well. Really, it made things way easier than if there hadn''t been the electric wires. We would have had to deal with the sharp wires, and that would have been a nightmare. I wasn''t going to be one of those people who underestimated just how effective that kind of thing could be. As it were, it was just thirty seconds to a minute of doing everything to avoid brushing the wrong set of wires. Nerve-wracking, but one by one, we made it to the top. Despite the fence being fairly high, all three of us decided we''d rather take the fall.


    "Oh, fucking hell." Said fall was worse than I expected. I didn''t think I broke anything, which was good, but it hadn''t been remotely safe. Sidekick was groaning as well, and even Rambo looked a bit pained. One by one, we made it to our feet, stretched, and wordlessly began to run. We weren''t in the clear yet, and I wouldn''t even let my guard down when we reached some kind of civilization. All in all, it still felt a bit too easy¡ªwhich is why I wasn''t surprised to only make it a few yards before things went sideways.


    What surprised me was that it was Sidekick lunging and knocking me to the ground.


    The fuck? I barely had time to wonder what her deal was before my skull cracked against hard dirt and all the air whooshed out of my lungs. But I got my answer when I heard the crack of a gunshot and saw sidekick herself go tumbling to the forest floor. Oh shit was all I managed to think. I had no idea where that came from, but it was obvious Sidekick had seen our attacker¡ªand instead of ducking to cover, she''d gone and pushed me out of harm''s way. How thoughtful of her.


    Unfortunately, that left me to cower behind the trunk of a way-not-fucking-thick-enough tree. I don''t know what happened to Rambo, but I heard a few more gunshots. I couldn''t tell if there was only one attacker or multiple, but either way, I was starting to feel exceptionally screwed. I started feeling my own heartbeat. Or something like it. Something deep in my chest, right where my stomach met my sternum, something was thrashing. I almost never felt true fear, and right now, I felt terror.


    Is this what it feels like to have a panic attack? I didn''t know. I didn''t know how to describe what I was feeling. It''s like something inside of me is... breaking.


    I realized I was looking up at the sky. When did I fall on my back? As I stared upwards, the blue sky rapidly darkened, growing deep purple, then almost true black. I wondered if I was dying. Was this the effect of my brain losing oxygen? I couldn''t tell. And as the seconds ticked by, the darkness continued to widen¡ªuntil it tore open, and from inside of it, there was light. I would have laughed if I could. I could never take the whole ''departing into the light'' thing seriously, but here I was, literally seeing it.


    Except the light wasn''t taking me upwards. In fact, it was the opposite. It was the light that was rocketing down. A brilliant, golden singularity, it streaked down from a truly impossible distance, looking almost as if tossed by some cosmic, celestial hand. I watched on in awe as I bore witness to something I never thought I would witness¡ªsomething never even recorded¡ªa falling star. But not any ordinary meteor¡ªa star core.


    And it wasn''t heading for me.


    The singularity of light and power struck the girl bleeding out not a dozen feet beside me. The impact was enough to kick up wind and leaves, and the light grew almost blinding. This time, I really did laugh. There was a small thought floating through my head, a distant voice saying something like shame it''s not happening to me. But I didn''t pay much attention to it. I was enraptured by witnessing the birth of a genuine Star Guardian.


    The light began to dim, and with it, the literal hole in the sky began to close¡ªbut not instantly. Turning away from the light and looking across that impossible, finite but incomprehensibly vast distance, I felt as if I could see something far, far bigger than me that had reached out. And now, it was retracting its hand. The world was returning to normal, my senses were returning, and I could feel that same thrashing in my chest again. It had grown tremendously, as if reacting to and resonating with the incredible event unfolding just in front of me.


    The last thing was not a vision but a voice. Impossibly deep, below the range of human hearing but somehow audible all the same, it spoke. Not to me, but I was there to hear it all the same.


    Choose wisely.


    And that was all. Two words, and it would retreat back across that incredible distance¡ªuntil it stopped. The world paused, and, for the first time, the attention of that thing turned to me. I could feel the weight of a vast, alien consideration¡ªand the thing rampaging deep inside of me began to fracture. And then, for the second time, it spoke.


    ...Anathema?


    It was a single word, spoken with a great deal of uncertainty, but it carried a force that caused everything I was made to almost crumble. Then, with a return to its former confidence, the incredibly deep voice spoke.


    I will be watching you.


    Hatchling.


    The presence retreated, the hole in the sky finished closing, and every bit of reality snapped back together in painfully sharp focus. There was shouting, there might have been more gunshots, and some kind of strange buzzing filled the air beside me¡ªbut I couldn''t pay any attention to that. That thing inside of me had stopped thrashing. But that wasn''t because it was done¡ªit was because it had finally, at long last, broken free.


    An overwhelming power exploded through me, bringing with it strength, and power, and, strangest of all, a deep, horrible, unending hunger.

 4 - Hunger

    The pain was intense, but brief. It took only seconds, and after scraping through every part of my body, inside and out, it retreated. The feeling of power, though, remained. And, festering beneath all of it--worse than the pain, stronger than the power--there was


    ...hunger.


    Fuck it was so bad. I was jittering, I could barely see properly, and it felt like my gut was being sucked violently inwards. It took my entire focus to resist letting it devour me whole, and I mostly stopped caring about any other part of the situation. Armed kidnappers, Anathema, a new Star Guardian... I knew I needed to deal with all of that, but I felt like I could put it on hold. First, I needed something to eat. Shouldn''t be too hard, and I''ll handle everything else afterwards.


    My vision was still distorted beyond comprehension, my hearing was under assault from a cacophony of infuriating noises, and my mouth--my mouth and nose were overwhelmed by the flavor of metal, of all things. I was not having a good time, and none of it could compare to the ache of hunger. There was a way forward, though. I would make it through this, I would satisfy my hunger, and then--and then I forgot what came next. Doesn''t matter. Focus on what you need to accomplish in the present. I needed to


    ...eat.


    So I did.


    I still didn''t know what was happening, but it didn''t matter anymore. I''d found food at some point, and it was the best thing I''d ever experienced. I couldn''t remember anything else to compare it to, but that didn''t matter either. What mattered is that it was good, it was mine, and there was--there wasn''t any more of it. It must have run out. No! No, it can''t. It can never run out. Never! I wasn''t done. In fact, I''d only just gotten started. Something told me there was more, somewhere, which meant what mattered now was finding it.


    I found it.


    This time, the food didn''t go down so well. I don''t think anything was wrong with it--if anything, this kind tasted better. It was just a little feisty. Like a hamburger that tried to keep slipping out of the bun, it was a bit troublesome to bite without making a mess all over yourself, but that didn''t stop it from being delicious. I soon got the hang of it, and I was--not satisfied. But I was content, at least, and the hunger quieted a bit. Hmm. What''s that one classic slogan? The snack that fights you back? No, that''s not quite right...


    Not right. Not right! Something wasn''t right. Something was--wrong, and I was going to get to the bottom of it. The food also seemed to have gone missing, which was a problem too--wait, that must have been the problem. Someone took the food away. That made me angry, until I realized it was me. Oh. I ate it. Then what was wrong, again? No food, the chronic ache insisted, but I knew that wasn''t the answer. Food is good. I like food, but there''s something else I''m missing. Why am I even thinking so much about food right now?


    Because I''m hungry, I knew, but... why?


    That simple thought shook something loose deep inside me. The hunger was still there, unchanged, but it was no longer so uncompromising. It was only one part of me, yet I''d been acting as if my entire existence was nothing but that most primal impulse. But I was so much more. Something is wrong, and I''m going to find out what. I didn''t rebel against my hunger, but I stopped letting it control me. Bit by bit, my consciousness freed itself from that dark pit. It felt like I was struggling back above the surface of liquid tar. It clung to me, tried to drag me back down, but every inch of myself that I freed made freeing the next one just a little bit easier.


    Before too long, I found myself perched on a tree branch, my head swimming and my chest heaving for air. My vision, while confusing, was back. I could also start making sense of the chaotic soundscape echoing around me. A lot of it was just gunfire. There was also the sound of branches snapping, and that weird buzzing I''d heard earlier, right after that whole thing with the star core. Wait--Star Core?


    A lot of things started rushing back to me in rapid succession. I began to remember the context of where I was and what was happening, both in terms of our ill-fated escape attempt and the bizarre kidnapping as a whole. How the hell was I not dead? I thought I was done for when I saw Sidekick get shot, but then an actual Star Core fell out of the sky and bonded with her, which is still just insane, and then--what? Did she somehow save me again? And where''d she even go?


    I started getting a grip on the situation again by looking around. I didn''t see anyone, even though I could hear that there was stuff going on fairly close by. Looking down, however, revealed that there was a half-eaten corpse directly below me. That looks new. Unlike what the skinners had done, which was just completely flay people, this one clearly had two very different sections. There was the lower half, which was basically the intact, and then there was the upper half. Or rather, there wasn''t. It''s just... missing. There''s not even any blood splatter. It was, if I''m being honest, really fucking weird. It was like someone had eaten half a Snicker''s bar, then left the other half still in the wrapper. The wrapper being, in this case, the lower half of the dude''s outfit.


    Like seriously what the hell.


    It was kind of funny, in a way. What was less funny was the possibility I was about to encounter whatever Anathema did this to him. I was pretty sure it was formerly a man, but that was honestly just vibes. I did know that it wasn''t Rambo or Sidekick, because the pants didn''t match either of theirs. Also concerning was how much the sight of it was making me hungry. Like what was the deal with the Snickers comparison? Stop being so weird, Alex. I teasingly flicked my own cheek. Uh oh.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Instead of the barely audible thwack of flesh on flesh I was expecting, I instead encountered the sharp click of metal scraping against metal. Naturally, that was both completely unexpected and super alarming. I immediately yanked my hand away, holding it up in front of my face to see what was going on. "Huh. Well that''s really new." Something less extreme might have made me freak out, but the current reality was so contrary to expectation that it looped around and I didn''t feel any particular emotion about it.


    By ''it,'' I of course meant the big, sharp, ultra-chonky, metal claws. I couldn''t quite tell if they were replacing my fingers or just covering them. In a way, it felt like there wasn''t much difference. Even though the top part didn''t make it beyond my wrist and the bottom part stopped at my palm, there was no distinct seam where metal met flesh. They just blended between each other. I didn''t even need to look to confirm my other hand was the same. I could feel it by rubbing my ''fingers'' together, which was a super odd sensation, now. I looked at it anyway.


    "Weird."


    Frankly, that was the only thing I could think of. It felt like a super lame reaction, though. Should I scream and sob and freak out or something? Like what''s a normal person''s reaction to this? I didn''t know. That fact annoyed me, because I took the ability to understand normal people rather seriously. Also, the claws weren''t the only thing. Flicking my cheek felt like metal on metal, not metal on flesh. Something was clearly going on with my face, and whatever it was, it was affecting my voice. Both of the times I spoke aloud, it sounded super weird. Like what I imagine a big church organ would sound like if it suddenly gained the ability to talk.


    It wasn''t even remotely hard to put together what was going on with me. Monstrous, impossible mutations? In the middle of an incursion? Salivating over someone else''s human leftovers? That last one wasn''t an exaggeration. I was hungry, and the sight of Mr. Trousers wasn''t doing me any favors. My saliva felt disturbingly thick and way too heavy. Unhinging my mouth, I tried spitting some of it out. I have to admit it was kind of fascinating to see what looked a lot like elemental mercury dripping down.


    I was getting distracted. The main point was that I was an Anathema. It was not subtle in any way. I''m pretty sure I knew the exact kind of Anathema, too--more evidence that I was a reality-eating monster and not some weird, other thing. Aside from the fact I still had some kind of relatively normal flesh, all of my traits were matched closely by something called a chamelium. Anathema names tended to be rather silly, but that one was possibly one of the worst. It was some kind of super lame pun between ''chameleon'' and the ''-ium'' suffix that was rampant across the periodic table.


    Chameliums weren''t very common, which meant I didn''t remember many details about them. That was unfortunate, and meant I would be reading up on everything I could find about them. At this point, I also realized that I was about to have some interesting new problems. Amusingly, I found it hard to figure out whether it was better to be a human among Anathema or Anathema among humans. There I was, fearing for my life just minutes earlier. And now here I am, once again wondering how the fuck I''m supposed to survive after literally just switching teams. Maybe there was a whole Anathema dimension that would be more welcoming. Can you just go the other way through breaches? Like is that even a thing?


    That thought gave me sudden pause. I knew I was an Anathema--I really had no doubt about that. The big alien thing that gave Sidekick a Star Core literally called me one to my face. In my mind, that was the clearest and most indisputable evidence anyone on the planet could ever hope for, so I didn''t think there was any use in acting otherwise. There was one glaring problem with that, though. I was Alexis Huntingfield. I was the same person I''d always been. I didn''t recall anything about slipping across realities and infecting someone on the other side, but I sure did recall a bunch of boring shit about growing up as a human girl on Earth. What fucking gives?


    Everyone knew that Anathema replaced the people they infected. That was some of the most basic stuff, and what was equally basic was that all Anathema--no matter how powerful--were mindlessly aggressive. The pieces just weren''t clicking together. Something else was going on here. There was something that made me different, and I needed to know why. My first thought, ironically, was to ask Dad. If anyone would know, it would be an experienced Star Guardian, and I seriously doubted by unusual Anthemaness was completely unrelated to being the daughter of a powerful Star Guardian.


    Yeah, I was definitely going to ask him, assuming he didn''t execute me on sight. Which honestly sounds like a problem for future Alex to worry about. For now, I decided to figure out what was going on here, and maybe take a bite out of Mr. Trousers. The thought of doing so didn''t bother me at all, since something else had already killed him. It wasn''t like he was using those legs, and I was now an Anathema. It was perfectly natural.


    And also tasty.


    There was also the matter of us now being in an actual incursion. Before the whole Star Core thing, it was well established that we weren''t inside of one. Now, however, the whole sky had darkened, and jagged purple lines streaked across it like frozen lightning. Classic incursion. Looks like whoever was trying to manually create an incursion succeeded. Well, assuming that was even their original plan.


    My golden, metallic claws made getting down the tree easier than it could have been. I was thankful for that, at least, and now it was time to grab a quick snack. But there was one problem. Mr. Trousers had left.


    I don''t mean that something else ate him. He left. I could still see the quasi-disembodied pants, and they were shuffling off in the direction most of the noise was still coming from. For a few seconds, I just appreciated the sight of it. It was neat, unexpected, and if I were going to live the rest of my life in hiding as an Anathema--well, might as well stop and smell the roses, right? Sometimes, it was about the little things.


    I decided I would follow the pants. I didn''t have any other ideas aside from sitting and doing nothing. Besides, Mr. Trousers were surely going to lead me towards something interesting. My life prospects as a whole might have just gotten dramatically worse, it was true. But, at this moment, I was now in a much better position than before. I also had a sneaking suspicion that the reanimated and ambulating ambulators had something to do with Sidekick bonding with a Star Core. Making corpses walk around wasn''t something low tier Anathema were known for, nor was it in any way a natural occurrence.


    And if he did lead me back to humanity''s newest savior? Then that would be all the better. I couldn''t not consider my overall route forward, and a bold--no, brazen--plan had begun to form. I wasn''t just going to meet up with Sidekick, and chameliums didn''t earn the ''chameleon'' part of our name for nothing. I was going to convince her that we''d both become Star Guardians. And if that failed?


    I''ll just kill her or die trying.