"I can go with you," Ethan's voice was a strained rasp, the fibers of the web digging into his suit, "but I need proof. Proof that my parents are safe."
The Deacon's robed form seemed to radiate an aura of cold amusement. "Proof? Boy, you misunderstand the dynamics of this exchange. You are a specimen to be collected. You are in no position to demand terms." His voice, though modulated, was like the calm surface of a frozen lake—flat, cold, and hiding unknown depths. He paused, letting the silence press down on Ethan. Then, it softened, a predator's feigned gentleness. "But... I am a man of my word. Your cooperation will be rewarded with their continued ignorance. They will wake in the morning having had a pleasant, dreamless sleep, and you will be gone. No trouble. No mess. A clean acquisition. Isn't that what we all want?"
He's talking about my parents' lives like it's a business transaction, Ethan thought, a new kind of cold dread seeping past his initial rage. The beast tide was a diversion for this... for me. He knew arguing was pointless. Now was not the time for bravado. With a deep, shuddering breath that felt like defeat, he let his alien form dissolve, the green light fading as he reverted to his human self, tangled and helpless in the web.
The Deacon nodded, a gesture of finality. "A wise decision." He raised a hand to his ear, his voice a clipped command into his comms. "The asset is compliant. All other units, withdraw to the extraction point."
"Yes, Deacon!" came two clipped replies.
He approached Ethan, producing a sleek, metallic syringe from the folds of his robe. The needle glinted under the distant city lights.
Ethan flinched as the needle slid into his arm. "What… what is that? A sedative?"
The Deacon almost laughed. "A sedative? How crude. I am a mental-type psionicist, boy. If I wanted you unconscious, you would already be asleep." He withdrew the needle, leaving a single drop of blood on Ethan's skin. "No. This is something far more… transformative."
He didn't have to wait to find out what that meant. A searing pain erupted from deep within his cells. It wasn't a cut or a burn; it was a feeling of being fundamentally rewritten, his very DNA screaming as it was twisted and torn apart by an invasive, alien code.
"What… is… going on… Aah!" he screamed, his body convulsing in the web.
"It appears the Wolf-Form Beastification Potion is taking effect more rapidly than anticipated," the Deacon noted with detached, academic interest. "Excellent. Now I can take you back, and the Doctors can have a good, thorough look at you." He pulled back his hood, revealing a gaunt face and deep-set, unnervingly calm eyes. A circle of faint, violet psionic ripples emanated from his gaze and washed over Ethan. The agonizing pain didn't stop, but Ethan's control over his own body simply... vanished. His eyes rolled back, and he fell into a black, forced slumber.
The Deacon, with no more effort than picking up a grocery bag, slung the web containing the unconscious boy over his shoulder and melted back into the shadows.
At the outermost military base of the city, the world was a cacophony of roaring monsters and concussive explosions.
"Report!" General Valerius bellowed over the din of the command center, his fist slamming down on the tactical map. "What's the Alpha of this horde?"
A subordinate, his face pale but his voice steady, yelled back, "An E-rank, sir! A Red-Feathered Eagle, leading a mixed horde from the northern ridges!"
"The Red-Feather?" Valerius grunted, his eyes narrowing at the main viewscreen. "That coward hasn't left its perch in years. Why now? Get me a projection." He watched the massive, screeching bird circle above the battlefield. "Get the quartermaster on the line. Tell him to prep the industrial-sized grills. We're having chicken tonight."
Just then, a calm voice cut through the chaos. "Valerius, my friend. Don't let your anger get the best of you."
Mayor Everett Thorne glided into the command center, his dark suit immaculate despite the emergency. His gaze was fixed on the tactical display. "This stinks, Val."
"I know," the General growled. "But it's an opportunity. We can finally sanitize the northern sector. The university exam candidates will have a safer practical route this year."
"At what cost?" Thorne countered, his voice low. "Our psionic energy reserves are already stretched thin."
"A cost worth paying," Valerius shot back, a feral grin spreading across his face. "Besides, I've been itching for a good fight. Let's go pluck a bird." He didn't wait for a reply. With a roar that was more beast than man, his legs coiled, and he detonated from the command center's balcony, a human cannonball aimed at the sky.
Mayor Thorne watched him go, shaking his head with a helpless sigh. "Still so impulsive." Then, his own body seemed to dissolve, melting into the shadows on the floor before streaking out of the base as a flicker of pure darkness, racing to catch up.
The two powerful figures arrived on the battlefield almost simultaneously. The Red-Feathered Eagle, circling high above, let out a piercing screech.
"Scree your grandpa!" General Valerius yelled, already airborne from his prodigious leap. He cocked back a fist to punch the creature out of the sky. The massive bird just flapped its wings, a casual gesture that unleashed a powerful gust of wind. Valerius, with no way to alter his trajectory in mid-air, was blown backward like a leaf. Before he could fall, a pitch-black sheet of shadow materialized behind him, catching him gently. Mayor Thorne solidified from the ground below.
Valerius landed, laughing. "Hahaha! Come on, Everett, let's have some fun with it!" He took a deep breath, his muscles bulging as he gathered his Aura. He threw a punch, not at the bird, but at the air in front of him. A tangible, shimmering shockwave—a fist shadow—erupted from his knuckles, cutting through the night like a bolt of lightning, aimed straight for the eagle. The Red-Feathered Eagle, sensing the immense power of the attack, tried to dodge, its massive wings banking sharply to the side.