Monster Hunter 141 AU
teaser for the next longform AU I'm working on... a little one-shot.
The files didn’t make it easier to believe. If anything, they made it worse.
Kyle Garrick sat hunched over a tablet, stylus tapping against the glass. The screen glowed softly in the dim light of the base rec room, humming with pages of redacted documents and blurry black-and-white field footage.
VAMPIRIC CLASS A – INTELLIGENT, PREDATORY
Common Traits: Hematophagy, enhanced speed/strength, minor regeneration, limited psychic suggestion. Known Weaknesses: UV exposure, silver, religious sigils (varied success). Status: Mixed-Class. Some are unofficial allies. Some are apex threats. Use judgment and carry backup.
He exhaled slowly through his nose. That one, yeah. He could believe. He’d seen it up close. A dead woman bleeding out in a bedroom. Too many dual puncture wounds. Movement that blurred past human limits. The thing hadn’t even screamed when Gaz unloaded half a clip into its chest, it had smiled. Until Price separated it's head from it's body.
He flipped the page.
SLIME-CLASS – AGGREGATE/SHAPESHIFTER
Territorial. Often solitary. Carrion-feeders or bone-cleaners. Rarely aggressive unless starved. Known Weaknesses: Fire. Acid. Certain frequency pulses. Status: Threat Level B-3 unless present in colonies
Another one he’d killed. Shot at it unsuccessfully until Soap advised he burn it. They both swore it screamed in four different voices as it melted. That mission had ended with two injuries and a black goo stain that hadn’t washed out of his boots.
DRACONIC CLASS – UNKNOWN
Rarity: Extreme. Documented cases unverified. Reports vary wildly. Possible shifter class. Subspecies range from scaled serpent types to "Arthurian-style" in appearance to mythic aerial breeds. Often conflated with wyverns or large demonic class. Status: Inconclusive. Possibly extinct.
Gaz snorted. "Right."
Dragons. Fucking dragons. He tapped the page with the stylus. As if it would blink and change into something else.
“Let me guess,” came a voice behind him. “Don’t buy the flying lizard bit?”
Gaz huffed and scrolled back up the page. “Think I’ve been on the job long enough to know a chupacabra’s just a dead diseased dog. But dragons?” He shook his head. “Nah. That one’s still filed under bedtime stories.”
Captain Price stepped closer, a mug in one hand. Black coffee, no sugar. Same every time. “Most stories come from something. Just a matter of how much they’ve been twisted.”
Gaz looked over then. Price did not look like someone who believed in fairy tales. Looked like someone who'd killed fairy tales.
“So,” Gaz said, cautiously, “you do believe in ‘em.”
“I’ve seen too many things to rule anything out,” Price replied. Then, after a beat, “But believing and trusting are two different things.”
Gaz leaned back in his chair, stretching. “Fair. Doesn’t mean they don’t all belong in the dirt.”
Price didn’t flinch, but his gaze ticked just slightly sharper.
Gaz noticed.
“They kill people,” he said, quieter. “Rip ‘em apart. Feed on ‘em. Twist ‘em into something unrecognizable. Doesn’t matter if they used to be human. Doesn’t matter if they can talk. You’ve seen the footage. You’ve read the briefings.”
“I have.”
“So?”
Price took a slow sip from his mug. Then said, evenly, “You’ll learn that things are never that simple, Sergeant.”
“And if they are,” he added, stepping away, “you’re probably missing something.”
Gaz chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, watching as the Captain of the 141---one of the most elite military groups in the world and one of few qualified and trained to deal with supernatural threats, beings, and other horrors---walk away.
Gaz scrolled on, committing each bit to memory. Might save his life one day, after all.
...
... (more class entries below teehee)
