Meeting

[grimoireofkenji]

 Footsteps echoed through the halls of the rundown mid-century apartment. The flickering, incandescent lights of the second floor revealed a figure in a long burgundy coat approaching the landing from below, the almost melodic sound of leather soles against cheap linoleum and poorly secured anti-slip stair coverings breaking the relative silence, a status quo previously held by the hum of low quality yellow lightbulbs with no cover. 

 

The figure stopped at the top of the stairs, checking his phone for something, before slipping it in the pocket of the wool trenchcoat. At the end of the hall was a window, likely glued or sealed shut in some cheap attempt at a repair.

 

“Tch. Landlords.” The figure muttered quietly. Beyond the window, snow swirled wildly outside, making it almost impossible to see the city through the glass.

 

The man contemplated a silent approach, but scuttled the notion. Chances were the target had heard him as soon as he entered the building. Long, two-toned dreads, tied into a high ponytail bounced slightly as he approached his destination, hand hovering near the holster under his arm. The heat on the second floor was oppressive, as if the cheapskate landlord had wanted to compensate for a lack of unit heating by turning the landing into a sauna. The clumped up snow on the bottom of the man’s expensive-looking dress boots had started to melt and his wet footsteps upon the well-worn flooring made loud squeaks as he walked. He ignored it to the best of his abilities as he approached apartment 2-6, hand still reaching for his gun. Moisture trickled down the peeling floral wallpaper in small, barely noticeable rivulets that seemed to only move when in his periphery, and the door was painted a gross, pale green. Maybe it wasn't pale when it was first painted?

 

The window at the end of the hall had started to fog up.

 

The man knocked on the door, expecting silence.

 

“I'm not interested in hearing the good word.” A voice from behind the door spoke. It was the shrill voice of a college-aged girl.

 

“I'm not here to proselytize. I'm here to retrieve you.” The man responded. He considered everything he'd heard about his target, and braced himself for her rebuttal.

 

“You must be the latest chump from Guiding Light.”

 

“The name’s Cyrus. Special Agent Cyrus Ward. I've been assigned as your handler and partner.”

 

“Why do I need a handler?” The voice shot back, sounding frustrated.

 

The walls had begun perspiring. 

 

“You're currently holed up in the house of a man suspected of feeding human beings to Horrors.” Cyrus began, moving a stray braid from in front of his quickly fogging teashade glasses. “You've been in here for a few days, and the target has stopped following their routine.”

 

“Yeah, I know. I ate him.”

 

The agent froze for a moment. The heat in the hallway was becoming unbearable, and he could feel sweat forming under his large wool overcoat. He had known the woman behind the door was capable of strange feats, but he wasn't quite briefed on her eating habits.

 

“You realize we needed him for information, don't you?” Cyrus had started knocking again, pretending to be unphased by the woman's revelation. “Can you just let me in? I don't recall the League telling me you could microwave a hallway.”

 

At this, the sounds of the woman shuffling behind the door stopped. Cyrus heard a few clicks, and the door was ajar. A long, overhanging strand of black hair poked out the door first, like an anglerfish lure, daring him to reach out.

 

And then the lenses of a pair of oversized glasses. Attached to them was a petite girl with a gaunt face, almost a foot shorter than Cyrus. The concept of her consuming a fully grown man seemed even more preposterous upon seeing her.

 

“Oh, shit. You weren't lying. Someone's trying to cook you.” She began.

 

“It isn't you?” Cyrus replied, confused. 

 

“Do I look like I can control heat?” The piscine girl replied sarcastically. 

 

“You did just tell me you ate a suspect… agent…?”

 

“I usually go by Lin.”

 

Lin pulled the chain off the door and yanked Cyrus inside before he could respond or draw his weapon, slamming the door behind her. The man was surprised by the strength she had just exerted, and had, in his haste, assumed there was a larger man behind her.

 

The apartment was rather cold. Cyrus felt a shiver up his spine as all the perspiration from the hallway started to freeze.

 

“Who tailed you?” The girl began. She wore a heavy winter coat and large snow boots, despite being indoors for seemingly two days. Pointed ears poked from under her messy hair.

 

“Nobody that I know of. There are only a few people on the streets today, given the weather.” Cyrus replied, taking a few steps into the apartment. Lin didn't acknowledge his sentence ending for a moment, choosing to simply pull out her phone. 

 

“Snow, huh? Lemme know when that ends.” She said, not looking at Cyrus.

 

On the floor of the walkway was a trail of blood that started at the door and led around the corner past Lin. Cyrus could only assume this was the remains of the suspect. Contrary to the temperature about five feet behind the front door, a layer of frost had begun to form on the window.

 

“Not a fan of the cold?” Cyrus asked, wiping the glass to try and get a glimpse at the shoddy courtyard below. It was a sea of white. The broken bench he could see from the archway when he entered was almost completely covered in snow.

 

“Not a fan of precipitation. Anything falling from the sky. Rain, snow, sleet, hail-”

 

“Frogs?” Cyrus interrupted her.

 

“What?”

 

“Three cases in the US alone. Minneapolis, Leicester, Kansas City, there's more when you widen the sco-”

 

“Yeah, no. I was talking about natural precipitation.”

 

“What would you call a rain of frogs?”

 

“Bullshit?”

 

“You eat humans without getting any kind of illness and you think frog rain is impossible?”

 

“T-thats not the same! I'm…” Lin trailed off, looking a little ashamed. She brushed her messy, seaweed-like hair from in front of her face.

 

“What, are you scared of the snow?” Cyrus felt a little bad for her. He started to reach out his hand in a comforting gesture but as he did so, she tilted her head towards him, much like an irritated cat.

 

“I'm cursed, dumbass.” She said, exasperated.

 

“You believe in curses, but not raining frogs?” Cyrus responded indignantly.

 

“You're still on that? I've never seen it, so it isn't real. What I have seen is people turned to chum by fishmen. The same fishmen who cursed me to turn whenever it rains.”

 

“You're like… a werefish?” 

 

“Ugh. I don't think we're going to get along at all, dude.”

 

Before Cyrus could plead his case, the window he had been peering out of just a moment ago cracked loudly. On reflex, he pulled out his gun, a Mateba Model 6 revolver, and pointed it at the source of the noise. Before he could so much as fire a shot, the window shattered, sending newly formed icy glass shards flying at the pair. One lodged itself directly in his arm. Lin dove out of the way as soon as she heard the noise, and stood to the left of the kitchen doorway, behind the cover of cheap, unpainted drywall.

 

Cyrus’ left hand, adorned with multiple black rings, grasped at the shard of glass, pulling it out quickly. Frost had started to spread on his coat, and the icy snow had begun buffeting the kitchen. The wind howled as if it were a creature all its own as it assaulted the pair. 

 

“Damn. Hold on a sec.” Cyrus cursed, grasping his shoulder. He pointed his ringed hand at the window, and in a few moments, the window had been restored. 

 

Restored was the most literal definition. The shards of glass from the window, including the one that had been embedded in the agent’s shoulder a few moments ago, moved back into place like a jigsaw puzzle. The relentless howl of the winds outside was suddenly muffled as if it were funneled into a bottle and closed.

 

Cyrus stayed sitting up, an action which seemingly took all his energy. Lin got back to her feet and walked over to him, tilting her head.

 

“We’re being attacked, you know.” She said curtly. Sweat poured down Cyrus’ face, and he was panting loudly. He still managed to look disappointed; she wasn’t at all impressed with his display. He was having trouble forming words.

 

“Oh, was that magic? Judging by the state you’re in…”

 

“I shouldn’t… be using it.” Cyrus replied. “Come on, help me up, Werefish.”

 

The diminutive girl sighed loudly, then hoisted him up with hardly any trouble, practically dragging him back to the front door.

 

“I figured it out.” Cyrus said.

 

“Huh?” Lin replied.

 

“It’s displacing the heat. It’s trying to keep us in the apartments.”

 

Cyrus struggled to stand up straight, his curly dreads splayed messily and his glasses about to fall off his face. The tear in his trenchcoat was gone; but he definitely seemed worse for wear. Lin let go of him rather roughly and he stumbled into the wall next to the door, leaning on it for support.

 

“What is it? Some kind of Horror?”

 

“Look outside again. It’s not casting a shadow.” Lin pointed out the window. The only shadow cast was the silhouette of the building against the early evening light.

 

“So we either freeze to death here or boil alive in the halls.”

 

“We can try and make a break for the outside.”

 

“I mean, with the snow and all…”

 

“I don’t care. What, are you gonna try and eat me?”

 

Lin seemed to understand, and she slammed into the door to the apartment with all her might. The hinges tore from the wall and splinters of wood and soggy, perspiring drywall went flying in disgusting, waterlogged chunks. The pale, puke-green door practically exploded into fragments and Cyrus started out the doorway after her, albeit slowly. 

 

“So what exactly did you do with those rings earlier?” Lin asked as they proceeded down the stairs.

 

“I returned it to the way it was.” Cyrus responded, using the rickety handrail to guide himself down the stairs. At this point, the hallway and stairwell had become rather moist, and the cheap linoleum squished, rather than squeaked, beneath their shoes. The heat and humidity felt insanely oppressive in comparison to the cold of earlier.

 

“And you can’t do it much because…?”

 

“I have no magical capacity.”

 

“HAH! What!?” Lin laughed out loud as they reached the first floor landing and began for the wrought-iron door, probably the most sturdy part of the building.

 

“I don’t generate any mana.” Cyrus seemed almost embarrassed.

 

“Like, at all?”

 

“Why do you believe in mana and magic but not raining frogs?”

 

“Because I’ve seen magic?”

 

Ignoring Cyrus’ irritation, Lin opened the front door into the snow, but stopped for a moment.

 

“I’ve never been caught in the snow. I just want you to know that.” She said, worriedly.

 

“What does that mean?” 

 

“I have reason to believe the way I am… changes depending on the type of rain.”

 

“They really barely gave me a briefing on you. Damn.” Cyrus kind of exhaled.

 

“Some Handler. Just point and I’ll kill it. I’m used to squishy little magic users.”

 

“Watch it. I’m not going to get talked down to by a teenager.”

 

“I’m fucking 28!” Lin seemed more flustered than genuinely angry. She stomped out the door and into the apartment building’s courtyard, trudging through snow clumsily. Cyrus had to admit it was rather cute watching a girl no taller than 5’3 waddling through the snow. It was already about a foot high, and it had only been about a half an hour since Cyrus had arrived. His footsteps from earlier were completely buried.

 

The ocean of swirling white made the shoddy brickwork stand out like a sore thumb, and the drain spouts on the sides of the building were hanging precariously. Cyrus stepped out in Lin’s footsteps and peered over the window he’d repaired. As suspected, the window was destroyed again. Whatever it was, it needed to make visual confirmation. Lin turned to him, as if looking for a direction. She seemed as lost as him. Her gentle, but gaunt face had begun contorting into something strange. She turned to face Cyrus and handed him her glasses, gigantic circular frames. He tucked them into his inner coat pocket and drew his weapon from the holster. Lin’s eyes were now large, a glossy black with no pupils to speak of. Long, blade-like fins tore through the sleeves of her puffer coat. She wore an oversized t-shirt and warm winter tights beneath. Her hot breath rose into the air, swirling into the snowblind and disappearing.

 

Lin began running towards the repaired window, seemingly seeing something Cyrus didn't. Looking up, he could tell the snow seemed centralized on a large circular area by the repaired window glass. Lin looked as if she were dancing through the snow. Her steps were light and fast, but every visible movement of her body felt brutal and bestial. Cyrus wasn't even sure she was leaving behind prints in the snow.

 

Lin launched herself into the air, directly into the source of the howling winds that were blowing directly at them. The entity roared in defiance as she approached with her forearm fins.

 

For a moment, it looked like the fishgirl made contact. a spark flew where her fin made an impact, and it seemed like her momentum stopped for just a moment. 

 

Then… she fell back down into the snow, landing gracefully and sliding a few feet towards the decrepit, snow-covered wall. Before she could kick off again, Cyrus spotted something buried in the snow by her feet.

 

A propane tank. The smaller ones you'd use on one of those expensive grills. 

 

Then Cyrus got an idea.

 

“Lin!” He yelled out, at the top of his lungs. He wasn't sure he had to, as it was certainly possible fish had better hearing than humans.

 

Lin’s pointy ears twitched slightly and she turned to Cyrus. The creature directly above her roared and loose snow off of the naturally forming banks blew into a small tornado. It twisted and gathered more snow off the ground.

 

“Throw that thing behind you at the entity!”

 

Lin snarled. It sounded like a reply, and Cyrus was sure it was when the weighty vessel full of combustible fuel was sent flying at exactly where Lin had made contact with the creature. Cyrus, through the snowblind, could see the unnatural twisting of the fishgirl’s musculature as she beamed the propane tank at her target. 

 

Cyrus pointed his Mateba at the tank, adjusted his stance in the blistering winds and snow, and pulled the trigger. His heart pounded in his chest for a moment as he heard the bullet strike metal, and seconds later, a sound that shook the courtyard. A small bit of the sea of swirling, snowy white erupted into flames as the tank exploded, sending Lin flying back several feet as she tried to put distance between her and the strange snow tornado the entity was forming. It disappeared quickly and the creature let out a pained roar. The sound rang in the agent’s head.

 

It was then that Cyrus got another idea. 

 

He pointed his ringed hand at the explosion. The cold metal bands felt like they were digging into his fingers. His hair and coat were blowing backwards in the wind as he restored the propane tank to its previous form. 

 

Before his consciousness could take a hit, Cyrus aimed as steadily as he could, and fired his revolver at the tank again. 

 

A few of the poorly kept apartment windows, brittle from the constant assault of heat and cold, shattered, whether from the noise or the force. Shards of glass rained down upon the pair and Lin dove past Cyrus, who covered himself with his coat as his legs gave out. His pants were soaked with freezing snow and his hands were on fire. A particularly large shard of glass had fallen down and pierced his coat in nearly the same place as the previous. He tried to lift his hand to repeat the action, but his fingers wouldn't obey. He struggled to lift the revolver at the enemy. Now that he knew it was heat, they could kill it. He just needed more heat. 

 

Just one more time. 

 

But his body would not oblige. He crawled weakly towards some kind of shelter, his hands burning from the cold. Lin had just gotten up from her dive, and taken a look at Cyrus. He was sure he could hear her scoff.

 

“Explosion, huh?” 

 

Lin launched herself up into the air again. But it wasn't to slash at the Horror as before. The entity had launched another tornado of snow and ice at her, and she dodged gracefully, as if she were flying. 

 

Or swimming.

 

The fish had seemingly learned by watching and proceeded to cock back her arms, get as close to the creature as she could, and swung both of them towards the Horror with such speed that steam began to rise from her body. Multiple small explosions rippled through the air as she punched. The largest was, of course, when she made contact with the entity. The sound that erupted from it stopped the snow mid-fall. Cyrus thought his eardrums would burst. Black liquid splashed all over the driven snow, and for an instant, the creature was fully visible. 

 

It resembled a woman. A long, white robe blew in the dying winds. Beautiful black hair draped its clothing. 

 

And there was a massive hole in its chest, right where a human's heart should be.

 

It desperately tried to heal itself. Hand-like tendrils sprouted from its hair and body. Inky black liquid sprayed on every snow-covered surface it could. It wailed in pain, some kind of otherworldly cry not meant to be heard by a human. The already weakened agent could barely maintain consciousness through the cacophony of sounds meant to drive a man mad.

 

The Horror struggled in vain to cover the massive hole in its humanoid chest. Seeing its efforts fail, the dress burst open and the true form of the creature was revealed. From the breast, more tendrils thrust outward, and within moments, it was a mess of dribbling, inky black hands and pulsing, bloodshot eyes. Acidic black blood melted through the pure snow like salt on an icy sidewalk and the residue smoked and blew away on the wind. The entity drifted slowly toward the ground, weak and still screaming.

 

Lin, who had previously been content to stare at the creature in its death throes, reached out a gangly, clawed hand and grabbed it with immense force. She began to disembowel the Horror, a sight which made Cyrus gag. She started unhinging her jaw with sickening cracks and shoveling struggling, squirming tendrils and eyes into her monstrous maw. The horrible pained screams of the creature the pair had just slain echoed as it reached its final destination in the bottomless pit known as her stomach. She didn't stop eating til it was completely gone. Rows of bladelike teeth crunched and a long bestial tongue slurped and drooled and drenched her cute puffer coat with inky black Horror viscera. Cyrus weakly considered pointing his revolver at her, but realized before he could even work up the energy that this… this situation was probably why he was tasked as her handler.

 

Irresponsible, impulsive… monstrous.

 

Lin, codenamed Shou. The Beast.

 

She walked over to her barely conscious partner. Her messy, kelp-like hair covered her horribly contorted face. The large strand Cyrus had earlier thought seemed like an anglerfish cast a weak glow on his face, his brown skin bathed in an otherworldly, bioluminescent green. When she opened her mouth, steam poured out, and when she spoke, it sounded like the last words of a drowning woman. Her cute, shrill voice struggled to surface from beneath the waves, and all Cyrus could do was stare into her bold, pitch black eyes as she asked what was probably the most worrying thing possible.

 

“Can those rings… Can you fix me?” 

 

It seemed genuine. Covered in the blood and guts(?) of a Horror who had likely wiped out every sad little life in the rundown apartment, messy hair blowing in the snowy winds. Cyrus assumed it was probably the first time she'd been genuine with another human in years. He cleared his throat.

 

“If I learn enough, maybe I can. You'll have to stick with me.”

 

The beast known as Lin seemed to nod, and she reached out a long, thin, scaly hand. Cyrus grabbed it. She pulled the man almost a foot taller than her onto her shoulder, and headed into the dilapidated apartment building.

"You know... I actually really like your claws. They remind me of someone."

"You're a lot sweeter when you're about to pass out." Lin growled back.