- Elsewhere -

God, why do I do this to myself. I slowly peel my eyes from the report I hold in my hands, trying my best not to rip it into shreds. Supermen. Of course. Always had 'em, always will. But it's not their existence or all those big ass battles they fight against some monstermen that bother me, no, it's the reports. How are you supposed to make a functioning report of a situation where the two objects of interest are moving as fast as a speeding bullet?

God. These reports are a mess. I can't even bother anymore.

I throw the report into the pile and lift the phone before it even has the chance to ring. Moment later, a little tune starts playing and I press one of the buttons.

"Smith speaking," I say robotically. On the other side, a sweet-mouthed lass starts relaying some paranormal situation or another, as I've told every policestation to do in the case of a possible SNC sighting. I can't escape the reports. Well, oh well. Haven't had a field day since my time as a rookie Exo-Soldier shooting bullets at some abomination of nature that was invounerable to said bullets. Gotta keep my knees swift.

I quickly rise from behind my villain-like desk in my darkly-lit villain-like office and exit into the villain-lair-like-super-secret-facility I call my workplace.

"Pence," I say, a young lass soon erupting hurridly from a surprisingly ordinary cubicle, considering where we are. "Y-, you called, Sir?" she nervously said. She was short, pale, and a bit round around the edges. Despite her looks, however, she was a fine solder. Was. Nowadays, she's a great secretary. It might be a bit controversial nowadays, having a woman as a secretary, but she was the one who wanted to. And I let her.

"I'm undertaking a field-mission on my own to investigate a recent SN-Sighting," I told her matter-of-factly. Her face lit up in surprise. Makes sense, I am rather close to my retirement. I should just spend my last few years holed up in my dark and dreary office, waiting for some super-hero to burst in and say "You've lied to the people long enough! It is time for you to feel the wrath of the citizens!" or something like that. Not that I lie to the people or anything. Well, that might be a lie. Heh.

"S-, sir? Will you atleast don your old Exo-Skeleton? Isn't it dangerous to face a possible SNC by yourself?" she managed to say after some time of silence. "No, I'm sure this is nothing. I've been stuck in that lair of mine for far too long to care for dangers. And even if there is some "Super-Natural-Creature" there, I'd love to feel the adrenaline pumping once again," I confess. Lying to your secretary is the same as lying to yourself, so I abstain. She nodds solemnly and lumbers back to her cubicle. Good.

It's not often a man goes to inspect a possible SNC by themself. Mostly because it's only something a fool such as myself would do. And why can I do something foolish like this without anything saying a thing against it? Becuase I'm at the top. One of the few.

I sigh to myself and hop into a helicopter. Don't know whose it is, but few have the gall to complain. I learned how to fly one of these back in the day, but technology has exploded recently, so I guess I'll have to improvice.

She rises slowly with a bit of a murmur, her blades slowly getting speed. I thought this part would be harder, but she's as tame as a house-cat. She's also secret enough to be equipped with one of those invisibility-cloats that's all the rave nowadays. Iowa. Some forest near Iowa. Even if I were a big, stupid monster that wanted to destroy the world because I stubbed my toe I wouldn't begin in Iowa. I thought all God's creatures would know not to begin their career in Iowa.

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The Stephen forest or whatever it was called stretches out before me in all its lushious green glory. Iowa. Huh. I search the ground and quickly find the cave mentioned. I quickly turn off the invisibility-cloak and fly closer. The witness starts flailing his arms about, apparently wanting to get my attention as if I were a blind man or something.

I hover down into his view and jump down. I haven't changed since I came from the office, so the man looks rather confused. He looks like your typical hillbilly, carrying a rifle over his shoulder. The air is heavy with gunpowder and blood. We quickly enter the cave after some rudimentary introductions and I get a view of the suspected SNC.

It really is an arm, isn't it?

At first sight, it would easily look like just another chopped of arm in a pool of blood next to a very dead mountain-lion, but this is easily disregarded by the fact that where there would be a flesh wound of some sort, there is just skin. As if it was the chopped off arm of an amputee that had healed perfectly. As if it had never been part of anything human.

The arm is regular-looking, with fair skin, almost a little too fair, as if it just didn't have any pigmentation what-so-ever, well-trimmed nails and a generally normal air about it. It seems to be the arm of a man. It's partially covered in blood, which makes it look, well, eerie, to say the least.

The two of us draw closer to the arm. It doesn't move. In fact, it is very still. But if I remember the reports correctly, it was flailing about at the time of the lions death, so:

"Hey!" I shout into the cave. The arm twitches visibly but stops moving entirely, as if trying to play dead. It isn't doing too good of a job of it, tough. "I know you can hear me, so if you'll just do me a favour and stop pretending, this whole situation will be a lot easier for the both of us," I say in my best 'I-am-a-force-of-authority-and-you-will-obey-me'-voice that I've worked so long to perfect.

The arms seems to hear me as the fingers start clenching and unclenching. It doesn't seem to know what do do, so I give it a push. "If you understand me, show me your palm," I say, to which the arm answer by, well, rising its hand and showing its palm. How rare. Not only does it understand me, it also knows to obey my commands. "Do you know where you are?" I ask the arm. The arm replies my waving its hand back and forth in either an 'I dont know' or an 'I can't say for obvious reasons' way. "I see. Right, well, do you know what you are?" I finally ask, since I have previously dealth with situations wherein the SNC in question is an unknowing civilian-soon-to-be-SH, to which the arm waves about for a bit in a strange manner before finally pointing out of the cave. "I assume you mean to bring me somewhere?" I ask. In situations like this, it is better to seem as if you know everything than to ask obvious questions. The arm does a thumbs up.

I turn to the witness, who currently looks rather shell-chocked, and ask: "Could I borrow your shirt?" He quickly unbuttons his shirt and hands it to me. Not sure if I enjoy his eagerness or not, but I appreciate his willingness to follow orders. "Arm, whatever your name might be, I'll soon pick you up, so don't be frightened," I say to the arm, moving closer with the shirt in hand. The arm does another thumbs-up. I quickly pick it up using the shirt and dry the blood off of it, as I imagine it must be quite uncomfortable. It seems thankfull, but I cant confirm that due to its unfortunate muteness.

"Sir, could I ask you to go home? This site is not safe for civilians," I say to the witness, who seems very eager to object, but can't bring himself to do so and instead lumbers into the woods sadly. Good riddence. The arm remains wrapped in the shirt. It would seem i forgot to return it to its rightful owner. I'll do so later.

"Now, is there anywhere in particular you would like to lead me? Oh, exuse me! I'm Smith, it's a pleasure to make your aquaintence, and as you cannot tell me your name at the moment, I will refeer to you as simply "Arm" henceforth. Will that be alright?" the arm, Arm, once more makes a thumbs up. I don't think he was prepared for it, but I shook his hand. He seemed to appreciate it though, and off we were.

Arm seemed to sink into deep thought for a second, as he was entirely unresponsive during said second. But after this, he seemed to have an epithany of some sort and started pointing to some place in the forest.

Now this is the kind of field-work i enjoy.