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Chapter twenty five, The Hunter and the Anomaly.
Natalie White's awakening was harsh and painful. Drenched in bathwater, the faint but rapidly intensifying scent of gas filled the air.
She had been crushed under a.
Bathtub that had improbably crashed through from the apartment above and knocked her through the floor of Amberlang's bathroom. What were the odds of that happening? Oh right, the chances didn't fucking matter, because there was a goddamn anomaly slinking around, a powerful one too. With terrifying precision, she redirected Natalie's bullets around a corner and into another room that was new. Natalie attempted to shift her position under the tub, but
her right arm was pinned. The attempted movement of her arms sent searing pain that bloomed in her vision. The fallen tub, still heavy with water, pressed down on her wrist, and the rifle beneath her, both likely damaged beyond repair. Trapped and in agony, Natalie realized the bathtub's awkward angle had saved her from being completely crushed most of her at least. With a grimace, she twisted slightly, shifting the tub using her legs and left hand, each movement a
torture of its own. The tub budged slightly, exacerbating the pressure on her broken wrist, eliciting a string of curses from her lips. Forcing herself to pause, Natalie took deep breaths, struggling to master the pain and panic. Once steadied, she reached for her radiough, Brown.
Do you read me?
Yeah, White, I read you.
I bumped into the prospect in five eighteen. She dropped a tub on me.
Is that a metaphor for something?
No? She dropped a literal bathtub full of water on me.
Oh Jesus Christ, do you need me to send someone?
No?
I need you to listen. I think they came from Marcus when they realized he wasn't there they left.
Who is they?
I saw Hastings with her.
All right, Hold on a second, ra Mara was getting something from Riggs.
What's happening?
Riggs said that Timers is down.
The anomaly is on the fire escape.
Yeah, the stairs. Timbers was covering. Riggs is on the roof, but she can't get a good shot at him. She said that someone shot Timmers.
Are there explosives on that stairwell?
Yeah, that one is rigged?
Blow them now?
All right, Romero, a trick of the fire escape. Ah, it's done. Whatsn't that? I'm sending someone up to the fifth floor to get you.
No, don't.
I'm not on the fifth floor. I'm on the fourth.
Floor, room four eighteen.
I assume, but don't send anyone.
Why not.
Gas? I smell gas?
Fuck.
I can get out on my own. Leave Romero to hold that elevator. I want you to meet me in the lobby. We need to make sure that none of the targets survived that fall.
Okay, I'll see get down there, all right, nat.
Now you just have to get out of here. This is gonna hurt like.
A Emily peered through the fire escape entrance anxiously hoping to spot her friends. Her heart sank as she witnessed the aftermath of an explosive device that had sent the stairway crumbling down in a chaotic cascade of steel and brick. Just moments before, Marcus had pulled her back into the safety of the hallway, narrowly avoiding the disaster as the
landing was violently torn away from the building. Looking up, Emily could see that the entire fire escape structure had been detached from the apartment complex's exterior, leaving a stark, gaping absence where it had once clung below. The metal staircase was missing from both the fourth and third floor. This was meant to kill them. She searched desperately for any sign of movement, seeing nothing but destruction, stretching each
second into an eternity. Finally, relief washed over her as she spotted George alive and cautiously navigating through the debris.
George, George, Hey, is everybody okay down there?
We'll be fine, Maybe a little banged up, but it's okay. You need to get yourself out of there.
What about Amber.
Don't worry about us, Just get out of there, all right? You heard him? Let's get out of here.
Okay, let's go.
All right? Which way?
Follow me?
The elevator's block, so we'll have to try the stairs.
The stairs, there's probably contra agents there.
I can deal with them.
I don't know if you should be using your fat right now.
It's the only weapon we have.
Okay, but what about the blender? You could trigger that.
I'd rather take my chances with magic than armed assassins.
All right, fair enough, that's true. Any sign of the shifter?
No, not yet. We're almost to the stairs.
When we get there, should we just charge in?
I think that this is a stairwell where September got the rifle. I'm hoping that the agents are already gone.
All right, I'll go first.
I'm right behind you.
It looks like it's all clear.
Okay, go down.
Oh shit, hang on back. There are men at the fourth floor entrance.
No, we can't go back. The shifter's coming from that way.
Fuck, what do you want to do?
Move?
The two agents directed their weapons at Emily and Marcus. Amidst the chaos. Emily could bear heard their shouts. With her hands raised, she ran directly toward them, pleading for help, her heart raised with the fear that the shifter had stopped chasing them, and now she faced the risk of being shot by the agents instead. But the two rifles lifted to point above Emily. The shifter, with astonishing agility,
vaulted over Marcus, crashing into one of the agents. The second agent, in panic, fired at the creature as it lifted and hurled the first agent down the stairwell gap. Emily flinched at the scream that followed, ending abruptly with a sickening crunch. Not daring to witness the fate of the second agent, Emily burst through the fourth floor access door and sprinted down the hallway, Marcus trailing close behind her.
Plan was desperate, but necessary. They would return to the fire escape and jump from the fourth floor to the broken stairwell below. She knew that the ten or fifteen foot drop might cause injuries for her and Marcus, but the potential injuries seemed a lesser evil compared to the looming thread of the shifter inside. As they darted past Apartment four eighteen, Emily noticed the door ajar with a
bloody handprint smeared across its center. The print likely belonged to the agent who had fallen from Amber's apartment above. The air was heavy with distench of gas, presumably from the stove she had earlier destroyed. Glancing back, Emily saw Marcus lagging, his exhaustion evidence. With everything they had encountered over the last few days, she wasn't at all surprised that he was struggling. She slowed her pace to let
him catch up. But four eighteen had other plans. Just as Marcus aligned with Apartment four eighteen, a massive explosion erupted from within the force of the blast slammed him against the opposite wall. He crumpled to the ground, unmoving. Emily instinctively shielded her face, hiding from the blast of searing heat. Marcus wasn't moving. As she was about to rush to Marcus's aid, the shifter appeared barely through the
flames toward her. She summoned her ipet lines, focusing intensely on pushing against the maroon thread that connected the shifter to her ipet Well, the shifter did not slow too late. She remembered that she could not manipulate the hidden in the same way she could humans and material objects. The creatures slammed into her toppling them both to the ground in a roll. As they separated from each other, Emily felt the creature's claw tear through her shirt and skin.
Pain flared across her stomach. As she tried to regain her feet, the sound of a man's scream echoed down the hallway. People were fleeing the inferno. Now on her feet, Emily saw the shifter blocking the path to Marcus. In its form, still menacingly sasquatch like. The maroon espet line glowed intensely but remained unyielding to her attempts to manipulate it. Slightly slouched due to the wound on her stomach, Emily scanned the rapidly deteriorating area around her for anything to
use used as a weapon. A burning chunk of the doorframe fell from the threshold of Apartment four eighteen. Marcus still lay limp on the hallway floor. The fire wasn't near him, but it was coming closer. Just as the shifter was approaching Emily, the creature jerked forward, claws raised but eerily silent. Emily formed a blue espet line, attached the end of her line to the piece of fallen doorframe,
and then pulled as hard as she could. She connected the blue espet stream with the maroon stream that belonged to the shifter. Just before the creature crashed into Emily, a fiery torpedo of splintered wood slammed into its head, knocking the shifter to the side. Emboldened, she didn't relent in her assault. She hurled every piece of burning building that she could find at the creature. Picture frames, chunks of wall, and a portion of the ceiling all fell
upon the monstrosity. The shifter fell to the ground, but Emily didn't stop her barrage until that was completely covered. The scent of burning fur and flesh rose from the pile of rubble. Still, the creature made no noise. Emily approached cautiously, her attention divided between the shifter and Marcus. The hallway was rapidly heating up and the fire spread unchecked as the building sprinkler system failed to activate. Maybe the contra turned it off somehow, or maybe it was
vaulted before this all began. Above, she noticed the dormant pipes of the sprinkler system. She targeted a pipe above Marcus and pulled with her espet the metal snapped and water briefly gushed out, soaking Marcus and providing him with a slight reprieve. As she prepared to check on Marcus, the rubble stirred. The shifter rose from the embers, resuming its original nightmarish form, a faceless horror, fixating its ghastly
gaze on Marcus. In desperation, Emily tore the door off Apartment four eighteen and flung it at the creature, but it missed, as the doors ispet stream couldn't connect with that of the shifters. She had assumed the demon creature would attack Marcus, but she was wrong. The beast lunged at her, instead, pinning her against the wall. One clawed hand dug deep into her right shoulder, the other encircled her neck. Emily tensed as the shifter's featureless face split
down the middle from top to bottom. She closed her eyes and turned her head as the vertical maw filled with flat razor bladed teeth came within centimeters of her face. The creature paused. Emily looked at the demon that held her. Its face morphed through a series of terrifying visages, as if flipping through a hellish picture book, and finally setting on a horrifyingly clown like appearance that chilled her to the bone. The shifter's corporeal form seemed to shut her
with silent laughter, its grotesque body vibrating. It sniffed at Emily like an animal drawing in the scent of its prey, then unexpectedly loosened its grip around her neck.
It spoke, what are you?
What?
I must know your nature? Tell me?
What are you?
Fuck you?
Your end need not be agonizing, but it can be.
Please no, truthfully, what are you?
I'll tell you if you let Marcus go.
The boy is irrelevant to me. I will make this deal.
I'm an anomaly. I have chaos magic.
I have felt many anomalies before you differ.
I don't understand the burning items that you swear me. Other anomalies can't throw things with.
There is fad.
Oh the more mature anominies. They're able to manipulate objects, but use it more. The inferno you commanded it assailed me. It's not to invade. It was as if the flames themselves were alive, intent to undervourn you from within.
I wish they had such.
Cruelty does not befit you cruelty?
Are you kidding me? You've been hunting me, trying to kill me.
Be bad as it may, but this was your third remarkable execution. It has been an age since anyone made it to three. And challenge me this.
What are you even talking about?
It matters not now? Please tell me? Are you an evolution to the anomally? Are you simply more potent than you can? Or are you something else? Entirely?
I don't know.
I don't know. Why are you doing this to me?
Why are you hunting me?
Because I was asked to?
Because you were asked to by who.
I cannot say. They were disqueezed that it took three. Yet I hold gratitude.
So you're gonna kill me because somebody.
Asked yes, and for the dance of death you let. I am thankful.
This is madness.
It's hurs the pain you inflicted upon me.
You're a monster.
I'm thankful for the hunt you provided. Just let me go, Emily Swanson, my gratitude is yours.
Fuck you.
The Shifter's visage dissolved from the menacing clown mask back to its featureless form as its grip tightened once again around Emily's neck, cutting off her breath completely. Then it squeezed. As the pressure built, Emily's vision blurred to near blindness. Tears filled her eyes. She could feel the fire burning closer. In a final bid for survival, she focused intensely on the maroonpet thread connecting her to the shifter, Channeling all her remaining will into a thick ribbon of magic.
She pulled.
Suddenly, the shifter's claw released her throat, allowing a rush of oxygen to flut her lungs. The other claw slid out of her right shoulder, leaving behind a trail of pain. Emily rapidly blinked away the smoke and tears, striving to see the monster before her. What she saw was horrifying.
A twisted collection of metal.
Rods morphed into cruel hooknded bars protruded grotesquely from the Shifter's torso. They had pierced through its back and emerged from the stomach, curving into large U shaped hooks that re entered the creature, pinning it cruelly in place. While the creature was speaking, Emily had manipulated the remnants of the broken sprinkler system from above them. She had twisted the metal into several rod like shapes, weaving them through the air and driving them through the reach its back
with deadly accuracy. Now free of the monstrous grasp, she pushed her ispet against the eight giant hooks, driving the shifter against the hallway wall. The scene was macabre as the hooks pierced through its arms and legs, anchoring themselves deep into the wall, trapping the shifter despite its frantic struggles to free itself. Seizing this opportunity, Emily used her ispet to float burning debris and embers directly beneath the
Shifter's suspended form. She hungered for vengeance. She wanted to feel every ounce of pain that the shifter had caused her and her friends. She stood back, the flames reflecting in her eyes. She wanted to watch it burn.
I hope you wrought in hell.
Hastings assisted Detective Bullard in carrying Davis across the street, then gently placed him on the grass behind Bullard's car. He quickly checked Davis for any serious wounds or signs of distress. Fortunately, there seemed to be none that demanded immediate medical attention. Though the drugs were still tapering off. At the same time, September was attempting to help Amber cross the street. She appeared to have regained some of her composure, and now her face was etched with an
expression of pure rage. Clutching Emily's cat tightly to her chest, she looked ready to attack anyone that dared approach her. Hastings offered Amber a comforting smile, an attempt to provide some reassurance amidst the chaos. She responded with a stern middle finger as she strode past him to stand next to Bullard. September shouldered a sympathetic shrug as.
He approached September. I don't think Amber likes us very much. You are dead on with that iss Saise, I smiled at her. I know, Hastings, She'll come around. Are you injured?
Nothing serious? Just some gashes from the falling metal.
None of us appears to have sustained any serious injuries, which seems very unlikely after such a dangerous event.
I assume Emily has something to do with that, possibly, speaking of which I will need you to stay here with them. I'm going back in to get Emily.
I would not recommend that September the fire looks to a spread across the fifth floor. I could see places on the fourth floor where it is spread as well, all the more reason that I should go in after her. And there are two Contra agents on the entrance. They have removed their helmets, but they are agents and they are armed.
Shit.
Maybe I could go around the side.
September. I need you to stay here. Emily and Marcus will have to do this on their own, Hastings. I do not mean to sound cruel, but if they do not make it out, then I will need your help to find another anomaly. I cannot successfully do this without you. Our goal was to see if we could save anomalies, not just Emily.
I don't like it, Hastings. She's our friend.
And how do you think she would feel if you ran inside and were immediately gunned down by Contra while trying to save her.
She'd probably be pissed.
She's not helpless. She's incredibly powerful and intelligent. She has better chances of making it out than you or I would. You're right, thank you for listening to my point of view, Hastings. Yes, September, how.
Did you get so good at understanding people?
I'm not good with all people. I tried to smile at Amber. Remember ignore that your spot on about Emily and that's different. Hmmm, that's interesting and since when did you use contractions?
Emily watched as the flames danced around the shifter. With each of the creature's attempts to escape, she would drive the metal hooks deeper into the wall. Shifters were hard to kill, but she didn't expect it to be this difficult. The blaze intensified rapidly, and the sweltering heat bore down on Emily's face. Inside, Marcus was almost completely cut off from her, and as far as she could tell, he was still unconscious. Forsaking the shifter to its fiery prison,
Emily attempted to reach Marcus. The heat was stifling, each step more agonizing than the last. She shielded her head and crouched low as she moved toward him, but the blistering air stopped her just a few steps away. Desperately, she reached out with her ispet, seeking something or someone that could help.
What she truly needed was water.
But that was something her ipet could not manipulate, or even sense for that matter. Then it clicked. Cricket had mentioned something about absorption and transference of powers, concepts that hadn't made sense until now. In Montana, she had been inadvertently draining the heat from her surroundings. That's why the temperature in the house was always colder than it should have been, and why Marcus was constantly freezing when she wasn't.
When she tapped back, then her well was warm and comforting. That sensation extended to her physically as well. Once Cricket mentioned it, she focused on not absorbing the heat from around Marcus, but she still was not cold. She must have inadvertently switched and begun absorbing the cold temperatures around her to keep from getting physically cold. That's why her ispat well had changed to the icy temperatures. She reached back into her well and felt the freezing temperatures surrounding her.
She pushed the cold back out of her well. It wasn't a directed flow like her healing energy, but more of an aura that radiated from her, repelling the fires. As the intense heat withdrew as if repulsed by an invisible barrier, and Emily swiftly closed the remaining distance to Marcus. The water she had earlier dropped on him, had shielded him temporarily, but his clothes and skin were now searing to the touch. She shook Marcus, attempting to wake him, but he didn't move. She assumed it was a bad
concussion and weighed her options. Carrying Marcus through the inferno was out of the question. She needed him conscious and mobile. She placed her hand on the back of his neck and channeled a trickle of healing into him. The act was straining, but effective. Marcus woke with a gasp.
Hey, Marcus, can you hear me?
Hey?
Yeah? What what happened?
Marcus?
We have got to get out of here.
It's on.
It's on fire.
Yes, now let's go.
Then the ESPET event began. Emily Swanson is voiced by Tisha Zang. Hastings is voiced by Adam Culbertson September is voiced by Richard Collins. Detective Bullard is voiced by Tony Kinney. Marcus Baker is voiced by Nico Rodriguez. Denali the Shifter is voiced by Stitch Mayo. Agent Victor Brown is voiced by t Alexander Saxton. Agent Natalie White is voiced by Sarah Callahan and narrated by Michael cole. Isfet Archives was written by Nico Rodriguez in collaboration with Titsha Zang. Epet
Archives is a Creative TYPEO entertainment production. Find out more about our show at www dot creative typo dot com.
A very special thank you to our executive producers from Patreon, Nick Mead and Patrick t Arsenal