"Your mission is clear," Ganymede said, her voice steady as a scalpel, honed for command. "Find RS-07 and bring it back alive. Do not engage lethally unless the threat escalates to Level Four or higher."
Deputy Haturii nodded grimly. "That's going to be difficult. We'll need enhanced capture units and fourth-gen suppression gear. At minimum."
Dr. Stane, tall and cadaverous, stepped forward like a B-tier horror anime villain with tenure. His lab coat bore the crimson insignia of the ARGUS Department of Biocryptic Studies. In his hands: a thick black dossier marked with an obsidian triangle—ARGUS HIGH THREAT CLASSIFICATION.
"These are RS-07'S containment files," he said. "Codename: Penumbra. Study them with extreme scrutiny. All known data, however limited, is contained herein be it behavioral tendencies, migration patterns, anomalous surges, and its prior breach logs."
Haturii flipped through the folder. Half the pages were redacted like someone had rage-quit a red marker across them. The remaining images were a blur: some twisted form, part feral, part mechanical. Eyes reflective. Sentient. A monster wearing the face of a human—or, as anime watchers might describe it: "the one with tragic backstory incoming."
A large screen blinked on, bathing the briefing room in cold blue. Strange deep-sea creatures danced across the display. Chimeric predators from the abyss.
"Nature deceives," Ganymede began. "It lies, coils, and waits. In fact, there are many creatures in the wild that go to great lengths to deceive, disguising themselves as something entirely benign or even enticing to lure unsuspecting prey, targets, or hosts without detection. This phenomenon is known as aggressive mimicry, where predators or parasites adopt the appearance of harmless entities, or even attractive mates, while harboring predatory intentions. Regardless of their guise, they are wolves in sheep's clothing.
"Take the anglerfish in the depths of the ocean, for instance, dangling a seductive light to lure unsuspecting fish into its waiting jaws. Similarly, the alligator snapping turtle wiggles its worm-like tongue to attract hungry fish. Fortunately, humans are far more discerning than aquatic life. We remain safe from such trickery. No creature has evolved to resemble something familiar, something everyday, just to ensnare unsuspecting people into their grasp."
"Atleast, that was what we thought."
She tapped a button. The image morphed into a bizarre, almost cartoonish rendering of RS-07. It looked absurd. Innocent. Almost laughable.
"Don't let the form fool you. RS-07 is no mere biological curiosity. Its design is intentional. It mimics vulnerability to invite proximity. Victims often describe it as 'familiar' or 'comforting' moments before it tears through reinforced steel and bone."
Dr. Stane stepped forward. "RS-07 is not simply a threat. It is a paradox. We've observed evidence of sapience... a capacity to learn, to strategize. Our preliminary classification is shifting. It may no longer be simply a Biocryptic Entity but a possible Systemic Wraith-Class anomaly."
Ganymede nodded solemnly. "Which means we're dealing with more than a creature. We're facing a Pattern Entity. All the more reason why we believe this ties to the Requiem System."
A stillness filled the room.
"…The Requiem Protocol?" Haturii asked, already regretting asking.
"One of eight, it seems," Stane replied gravely. "No known origin. Ancient, possibly pre-Foundation. We don't control it. We simply observe. And when it emerges... bad things follow."
Ganymede's voice was quiet now. "The anomaly's activity syncs with readings from the Requiem System. Specifically, Pattern-Eight: Death Is My Guide. Every time it manifests, local biospheric Taiji levels drop. We believe it feeds on it."
She walked over to a cabinet and unlocked a small container. Inside were shimmering canisters of liquid light. Taiji amplifiers.
"You'll be issued these. Use only if necessary. High Taiji readings attract it. Think of these like glowsticks at a rave for murder monsters."
Stane added, "In otherwords, If it senses a spike, it will come."
"And what happens if it feeds too much?" Haturii asked.
The doctor didn't answer. Ganymede did.
"Then it will no longer need to hide."
Haturii exhaled slowly. "Understood."
As Ganymede turned to leave, Haturii's voice followed her. "If you're warning us to be cautious, we get it."
She stopped. "You misunderstand. I'm not warning you to be cautious."
She turned her head slightly, just enough for him to see her eyes.
"I'm telling you to be afraid."
Haturii's expression hardened. "Then all the more reason you're coming with us."
Ganymede stopped in her tracks.
"What?" she asked, her voice suddenly sharp.
"You've spent years on this case you're practically part of it. No partner. No family. This thing is your life's work."
She looked at Dr. Stane, who sighed like someone realizing he just lost a bet.
"You want boots on the ground?" he said. "She knows more than the rest of us combined. Hell, she built half the tracking software we're using."
Ganymede's face didn't budge, but something behind her eyes shifted.
"You're asking me to follow a monster into the dark. Fine. But don't ask me to drag you back when it decides you're prey."
And with that, she left.
Haturii watched her go.
"Sure do hope it's worth it."
---
"…If we're dealing with ridiculously OP monsters now," Yukira muttered under her breath, "I highly doubt we're making the cut for this one."
Orenji arched a brow. "Guess we're benched, huh? Damn. And I was really looking forward to getting vaporized. Thought it'd be a great character development moment too."
"Could you be serious for five minutes?"
"Probably not," he said with a shrug. "My contract clearly states I'm the comedic relief."
Yukira crouched suddenly, her expression shifting like a light switch toggled from "sarcastic" to "ominous foreshadowing."
"Oi. Come look at this. You seeing this?"
"What? What's up?" Orenji walked over, already bracing for the worst. The blast door was warped inwards—not exploded outward, but imploded. As if the universe decided to flex its knuckles on one specific spot.
"That's tungsten alloy…" he whispered.
She traced her fingers along the mangled steel. Her pupils narrowed like a cat sensing an incoming plot twist.
"There's residue on here. Taiji. But it's faint—almost."
"That's impossible. Inanimate objects don't retain Taiji. Not unless—"
"Unless something poured raw metaphysical force through them. No elemental trail, no signature. Just pressure. Brutal, unshaped power."
"…You realize you're basically narrating the trailer monologue right now, right?"
She ignored him.
Orenji took a step back. "...An ergokinetic."
"Maybe," she drawled the word like it owed her money. He knew she didn't want to believe it either. "I mean, sure looks like it," she muttered, rising to her feet, "It's like… the thing's a Taiji siphon. Like it drains life energy without refining it. Like it's feeding."
"Fascinating," Orenji gulped. "Monsters using Taiji now as some kind of element? That's big. We gotta tell Haturii!"
As he turned to leave, Yukira caught his arm. He paused, blinking, and met her gaze. She was smiling. Not the reassuring kind.
The 'I-just-wrote-us-into-a-side-quest' kind.
"Whoa now, jumpy. Where do you think you're going?"
"…To tell Haturii," he said flatly. "Because that is the responsible thing to do. You know. Protocol. Orders. Safety. Not dying."
"I've got a better idea."
"Oh good lord…" he muttered. Somewhere, the background music ominously dipped into "Questionable Decision Mode."
"So how about we not do that," she offered, flashing the most suspiciously charming smile since the fox in Zootopia. "All I'm saying is, why don't we take a quick look ourselves to make sure, 'cause if we're wrong, we'll look like total idiots."
"Right. Because that's the real threat here—looking dumb."
She tilted her head. "This could be the first Wraith-Class anomaly in years. We screw this up, we're done. Claive or not."
Her voice softened, pride slipping aside for just a second. "I'm not saying we go rogue, okay? We'll just do some visual verifications, lay eyes on the target, and then we call Haturii. You said you wanted to matter, right? This is how."
Orenji hesitated. Then sighed like a man who knew he had just agreed to episode filler disguised as plot advancement.
"One quick look, then we call Sir Haturii. That's it. That's all we get."
"Oh," she replied sweetly, hands behind her back, fingers most definitely crossed like a gremlin making mischief. With a smile only the audience could see through, she said, "Well, all right then. I promise…"