IT

There was no way that Calen would be bagging the wing. 

He didn’t even try to cover it with a tarp. If Central wanted it, they’d have to send out more equipment and more staff. He certainly wasn’t going to violently cut this beautiful thing apart just to get a few extra bits and pieces.

With his unmarred hand, Calen reached out to brush the feathers. He lifted them gently, watching the light dance across their glossy surface.

Were this a beast of the old-world, there would have been no doubt in his mind that it would be flightless. More akin to an ostrich than an eagle - between the sheer size of it and the weight of the head, it couldn’t possibly have taken off the ground. 

What he had observed of the creature’s bone structure did not appear to be hollow. But in this new world of madness and monsters, anything was possible. Perhaps these creatures were now dominating the skyline, descending from on high with claws and teeth, defying every law of the old world. 

Monsters tended to do that. Spitting in the face of sense.

Following the grain of the feathers, Calen found the fractured seam where the wing had been severed. The feathers were ragged and torn at the site, once-smooth edges frayed and matted with the black blood. It must have been a very painful injury. 

The edges of the wound were jagged and uneven, hinting at violence and trauma. Snapped feathers and severed bones jutted out at odd angles from the wound, splintering into smaller fragments on the ground below. There were clear indications of a forceful, linear tear in addition to deep gouges along the skin and bones.

The gravel and debris here had been showered in blood. Clearly, part of the fight had taken place in this very room. This creature, if it had survived, would never fly again.

Calen documented his findings, trying very hard not to sound like any sort of practicing professional. What would a layman write about their monstrous findings?

Large birdlike monster. Bipedal and-

Would a layman know the word “bipedal”? Or was it stupid to even wonder?

Calen scribbled it out.

Big bird. It's like a big bird.

Calen decided he would make a few of his own notes, then compare them with Joaquim.

Unknown subject; likely monstrum of unidentified species. Bipedal and winged. Suffering traumatic amputation. Possible predator species in the area.

Calen settled into the pleasant atmosphere of studiousness, so reminiscent of his early years in school. He catalogued the scope of the wounds, estimated the wingspan, approximated the size of the monster itself, and gave an educated guess as to the size of the weapon - or, rather, whatever appendage the perpetrator had - that must have been used to separate the wing from the body. The math came easy to him. It relaxed him, even. He felt at home amidst the measurements and anatomical studies.

When he was satisfied, he withdrew a small vial from his pocket. With it, he pinched a pair of sanitized tweezers in the other hand. Calen followed along the wing, looking for a feather small enough to fit in the vial. He found one along the inner left ridge, softer and fluffier than the others. A new feather, plucky and preparing to grow.

“Sorry about this,” he murmured.

Pinching the feather with the tweezers, he pulled.

As if summoned from the depths of the building's darkest recesses, a howl sliced through the air.

Calen froze, tweezers suspended in the air. For a single, horrible moment he thought it might have somehow come from the wing. It was ridiculous, but the sound was so pitched and pained he could have believed it was recoiling in hurt.

He held perfectly still, waiting for something to happen. The wing remained as it was, no reflex movements to indicate that the nerves were still reactive. It was stupid. So very stupid to assume the wing was making sounds.

His senses were on alert, searching for anything that might indicate the origin. The room itself seemed to hold its breath. It hadn’t sounded like simple debris and the shifting of decaying structures. 

As the seconds ticked by, it became easier and easier to doubt his own memory. 

Perhaps it was simply… The unpleasantness of cracking metal. A rooftop overloaded with moss and greenery finally giving way. These things happened all the time, and presented their own mundane risks for investigation team members. Often more so than the monsters themselves, a collapsing city was a minefield of hidden danger.

The howl came again.

No, definitely not debris!

It was a horrible sound, primal and utterly animalistic. It reverberated with organic modulations - the gurgling of wetness, the rasp of strained throat muscles, and the slow way in which it died as a sound.

He broke out in a cold sweat. 

There was no denying the danger this time. He was alone and vulnerable in here. Here, with either the monster or the thing that tore it apart. Or both. His ears tingled as he strained to hear anything else. A scramble of claws, perhaps. The crumbling of rock. The victorious snarl of something terrible as it found him.

Nothing. No sounds except his smothered breathing.

He swallowed. Cottonmouth. Nervousness always left his throat feeling dry and swollen. Instincts urged him to flee and to escape the unknown terror. If not to flee, then to find someplace to hide himself away.

Run, little mouse.

He would do nothing of the sort. He breathed deep. A simple exercise, in for five, out for five. In for six, out for six. Contract the diaphragm. Steel yourself. Reduce the vulnerable position you’re in.

Calen turned, slowly - ever so slowly, towards the hall that exposed him. He couldn’t see anything of note. Moss and office supplies. But that didn’t mean that it was empty, let alone that he was safe. There could be something lurking in the shadows, waiting for him.

Another howl. The sound was static, so the source wasn’t getting any closer.

Calen moved quietly to the corner of the door, out of view. When the silence reigned resolute, he risked a quick glance down the hall.

Still nothing. No movement.

So, Dr. Calen, what now? Stay still and hope nothing happens, or try to leave and risk discovery?

The howl came again, choking into a deranged wail. In it, an unmistakable note of… Suffering. The cries lasted longer this time, guttural and reverberating with anguish.

Was it the winged one, then? The prey, and not the predator? There were no accompanying noises to indicate that a predator was attacking it. It sounded like a single creature. But a wounded monster could be worse, couldn’t it? It could mean a cornered creature desperate to keep itself safe.

He imagined, for a moment, the one-winged creature limping somewhere in the building. It would leave a trail of blood from the many injuries across its massive body, keening sounds emerging from dark lips. Would its dark eyes convey fear? Would its face contort in pain? He wondered if all seven eyes would emote as one.

Somehow, he didn’t like the picture that was being painted.

Calen wasn’t here to help the creature. 

Far from it! 

He was here to collect data about it, and samples from it, and to report back to Central. If his employers wanted an entire, living monster, well! That was far beyond the scope of his responsibilities. In this new era, this new world, helping things got you hurt. Help people, and they’d take everything from you. Help creatures, and you no longer had the means to keep yourself afloat. There was nothing to be gained by helping. 

It was a lesson Calen had learned time and time again. The selfless had died off many years ago. The selfish had survived, and perpetuated the cycle until the world became a little worse.

Calen was one of the selfish ones who had survived. And that was why he was going to go and find the monster, so that he could selfishly… Look at it. Nothing more. He would look at it for a good long while, out of sight, and then he would dart off to find David and the suppressive team.

He knew it was a mistake. And it was the sort of mistake that one didn’t come back from. But he made it, all the same. They’d write about him in the training field guides, “If you hear crazy, animalistic sounds out in the wilderness, don’t approach! This guy - Calen Belair - ignored Rule #46, and guess what happened? He got his whole bloody head bitten off!”.

Calen crept as quietly as he could across the hall, trying not to think of all the ways a massive monster could turn him into floor paste. He listened for any organic sounds. The silence stretched for so long that the next howl nearly made him jump out of his skin.

It was coming from somewhere below him, echoing through the cracks in the building. Was there even a way to get down to it?

Calen passed the office that he and Joaquim had entered through. The hopefully moss was actually helpful, dampening the sound of his footfalls as he moved deeper into the building. He considered, somewhat belatedly, that having some sort of weapon might be a good idea. One could hardly imagine it being of significant help - he had seen the size of the claws on their beastly friend - but it would be something. Syringes weren’t likely to do much good. He had already broken one in the creature’s skin trying to draw fluid samples.

He scanned the hall for something he could use. 

There wasn’t much. 

The plants growing on this side of the building were small, ruling out the chances of finding even a well shaped stick. The office supplies were either too small or too large to bring along. He didn’t fancy tangling with a giant monster while attempting to dual-wield office chairs. 

No, he supposed a brick would have to do. Plenty of those. A firm grip and a well timed shot to the eyes might give him a chance at escaping if it all went to hell.

Calen picked a brick that was mostly intact.

Ah, yes. Trusty brick. Entrust me with your sacred powers. Fend off a massive monster if it decides to turn on me, pretty please.

The monster cried out. This time he was close enough to hear the full experience, and he nearly dropped the brick in his hands. The howl was punctuated by gasps and rasps, as if the monster was struggling to draw breath.

He really, really didn’t like that sound. Too much pain in it. Calen was like any other sensible person; pain was an unpleasant thing for him to hear. It didn’t matter what sort of creature it came from - human or monster or otherwise. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do once he saw it, but every pained gasp pushed him harder to find the creature.

Calen followed the hall until it opened up into some sort of lounge area.

Vivid green ferns dominated most of the room, growing in wide fanning bundles. Blue and purple hepatica flowers painted the moss-coloured environment in tiny bursts. Below the thick carpet of flora, the impressions of furniture and used-purpose could still be determined. The ceiling was a soft blanket of lichen, but a few hanging lamps had impressively managed to remain in place, swaying with wayward air currents.

Shredded couches and upturned metal chairs were pushed up against large, somewhat intact windows. Time stained papers were scattered over low, stumpy coffee-tables, and Calen spied what he thought might be a vine-covered vending machine in the far corner.

He made a mental note to double back later to check. He had no interest in the contents, but Joaquim had rattled off about how much he hoped to find a vending machine with preserved food in it. It was something like a small treasure for investigative teams, apparently.

Calen scanned the room. 

An elevator sign was just legible beneath the mossy wall to his left. He ignored it. Not two weeks ago a member of the investigation team had been killed trying to descend down an elevator shaft. The team member hadn’t realized that the elevator had still been suspended above him. When he disturbed the cables, the broken thing came loose and flattened him. But elevator doors meant emergency exits. He circled the room, doing his best to quietly shuffle debris out of his way.

A gap in the floor caught his eye. Softened by years of moss and rainwater pouring through a shattered window, the floorboards had fallen prey to rot. They bent inwards, like something heavy had once stood there and fallen through. The hole looked wide enough to fit a full kitchen dining table. Calen cautiously approached, testing for any instabilities underfoot. The wood creaked mildly, but otherwise appeared stable.

He was just going to check. 

The monster might not even be here, specifically. If the floorplan below mirrored the one above, there would be another large lounge space - or possible conference rooms. Plenty of places for the monster to hide away in. Most wounded creatures sought some form of shelter, so he was fairly certain it would have shed away from the light and water pouring through this particular gap.

If it was somewhere around the hole, this made an excellent vantage point. He was a floor above, with access to his exit. Perfect. So long as the monster couldn’t take incredibly long leaps, of course. It was injured, anyway. He would be fine. He’d survey the area, see if anything was nearby, and then go from there.

Calen crouched, biting back a curse as his knees clicked loudly through the space. 

When nothing lunged out of the gap in the floor, searching the ground for something to toss down the hole. If it was there, it would hopefully react, and he’d know not to pop his head through as a snack.

His trusty brick was a bit too large and would make too much noise. Placing it on the ground, he picked up a few dried out papers and let them fall into the hole. They floated out of sight into the darkness. Nothing. Good. Next he dug his gloved hands into the mossy ground and pulled out a sizable chunk with a puff of dirt. The moss fell faster than the papers, but didn’t produce any reactions from below.

Last of all, Calen picked up what looked like a palm sized piece of concrete, and tossed it down. He heard it connect with something hard - likely the floor below. But no stirring or growling or anything of the sort. He tried a second piece to similar results.

Satisfied, Calen lowered himself onto his stomach, spreading his coat around him to keep from laying on his samples. It wasn’t his most glorious moment; he was grateful that there wasn’t anyone around to see it. There’d be smudge marks all over his coat as evidence, doubtless, but it was a team-issued anyway.

He crawled towards the gap in the floor inch by inch, bit by bit.

Close to the edge, he leaned over the hole and peered down. It was very dark below. Unlike the upstairs with its bright open windows, this layer didn’t appear to have a lot of natural light. There was a large pile of debris just below him. He saw the yellow-brown of the papers he had tossed on top. Calen squinted. He could just make out vague shadows and shapes as his eyes slowly adjusted…

Cold, nauseating shock coursed through him. Even with the darkness, he could see it. A beautiful beast of nightmares. The monster was lying on the ground below him. Directly below him, curled up in a ball of inky black.

He held perfectly still, not daring to move or break his visuals on the thing.

It was huge.

Large enough, surely, to stand up and reach him. But it just lay there, motionless and lifeless. For a moment, it crossed his mind that the monster might actually be dead. It hadn’t reacted to any of the objects he had tossed down. Nor the sound of him approaching. There hadn’t been any howling for a while, either.

His breath caught in his throat. Gods Below, had its predator caught up to it? Was it somewhere in the shadows below, watching?

The monster began to contort.

It came to life in a mess of twisting limbs and tossed feathers. Its whole body bent in on itself. It turned over, face unveiled to him in an expression of suffering. The many eyes were clenched shut as the monster was rocked by waves of pain. Chest heaving with laboured breaths, mouth opening and closing in silent agony.

When the scream came it nearly dazed him. It was earsplitting, assaulting his ears so intensely that he clasped his hands over them. The sound was deep in his eardrums, rattling his skull.

Calen cried out in pain.

The horrible screaming stopped.

The monster was looking at him. It had heard him.

Calen was pulled into an endless ocean of obsidian. It was deep and fathomless and oddly gentle, rolling like a powerful tide within its eyes. The creature was locked onto him, and he onto it, though he felt more a tiny creature trapped in the snare of something much larger.

Neither of them moved. 

They stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity. Calen could see it breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, eyes unblinking. 

It tilted its head. 

Then, slowly, its mouth opened. Calen watched in fascinated horror as it revealed rows of glistening teeth, just as black as the rest of it. A deep, guttural sound emerged from its dark maw like a motor rumbling.

Oh, what a terrible mistake he had made.

Calen recoiled, scrambling for purchase on the wet, mossy ground. He had to pivot to get his face away from the hole, kicking his legs out under him. It took mere seconds for him to prop himself up, but that was enough time for something to grab his leg.

Unfurling from the darkness of the hole like a thing of nightmares, a black hand curled around his ankle. He had a moment to take it all in. Horror. Shock. Far too many long fingers, ending in deadly points.

There was a firm tug and he was splayed on his back. He flailed, trying to twist away, but then there was another hand on his other leg. The monster was slowly dragging him into the hole. No trace of urgency. It was almost leisurely in its hold, his capture and demise a mere inevitability that it gave little thought to.

Terror consumed him.

Calen swung his arms, fumbling at the slick ground. His hands fell over something solid. A brick. His brick. Calen grabbed it and aimed for one of the massive black arms. Use it now? Hold onto it for a surprise attack? His feet were already disappearing over the edge of the hole. Without a second thought, he launched the brick at the closest hand.

It worked. 

For a moment, at least. 

The monster released his legs, a strange and inhumane chortling sound emerging from the darkness. Not angry, not pained. Just confused.

Calen was almost on his feet when it lunged. Like the many thrashing tentacles of a sea-beast, the monster surged nearly out of the hole entirely. Calen had just enough time to see its horns rising from the chasm before a vice-like grip closed over his thighs.

He gasped as it squeezed. His hands flew to the claws that held him, grasping at them and trying to pry the monster off. It hardly seemed to notice, and he was pulled down into the dark embrace of death.