Circe's stomach gave a deep rumble. The hollow bite appeared to be whispering to him, entreating him to find something to eat. The last thing he had was a rotten banana he had found while floundering through a dumpster. It was behind Averro's—a popular Italian restaurant in Avalium. What would the Brixons think of him now---scrounging up rotten leftovers like a pestilent street rat? Somehow he could hear their hissing laughter resonating in the background.
Circe swiftly grabbed a sticky, muddy newspaper that flew by against the cold raucous wind. It had fingerprints all over it and an unknown effervescent slime that could only have been spit. Circe sat by a street curb and straightened out the papers.
A headline in stark bold letters struck Circe's eyes as he glanced down at the papers, frowning.
The Great Chimera Sits on Twelve Years Since its Authorative Attack on Avalium.
Published on September 3rd, by Fabian Akraki (Sixteenth level Shadower, Alma Mater Badge: Avalium University, award winning journalist for The Monster Times)
Hold on to your gray hair folks! That's right! It's been over a decade since the Great Chimera laid its fiery crosshairs on our city. Many witnesses claim it had been a dream, an erroneous hallucination, a delightful fantasy even, but any respectable person in Avalium knows it was only out to destroy the city and pulverize as many people as possible. No one knows where it came from or what provoked its vindictive anger upon the innocent lives of our upstanding citizens, but on that sacred night it chose to attack and it had been up to our valiant Shadowers to get rid of it and save us from the beastly evil. The brave Shadowers have chosen to stay anonymous, but sources claim that Oswald Zenithclad had been involved in this heart-throbbing tale.
Most importantly, however, there have been other rumors—
Circe readjusted his sitting location from the paved curb all the way to the back of a grimy convenience store. The harsh wind blew against his white hair, blinding his focus as he tried to collect his spot on the article. It was a cold gray morning but it felt like a frigid rainy evening because of the wet roads and the heavy thunderstorm they had last night.
—peculiar rumors that the Chimera had a son and a wife. Rumors that chronicle how he had killed his wife due to a feisty altercation they had and the miscible occurence the Chimera's unsurmountable anger. He was on the verge of killing the boy too but had lost sight of it in the midst of fleeing. Some say that the family was toxic, some say that the wife slept with another man which is why the father was so upset and went on that violent rampage, and others believe that this was all total nonsense baked up for the press and that the Chimera was a free agent that worked tirelessly on its own to wreak havoc on Avalium. Whatever the truth is, they can't deny the possibility that the child of this fearsome creature has been running loose all these years. Riveting stuff!
If you've been following thus far, then any of this would hardly seem surprising to you. Avalium has been known to attract all types of mythological and occultic creatures throughout its initial conception. From the waspy wendigoes that migrated here after the Boston Tea Party as well as the maniacal witch ghouls from Salem all the way to the modern-day dragons and griffins that we faced in the early 90s. Some publications like the Plasma Globe and the Los Angeles Lochs have hailed Avalium as the monster capital of America. Some sources would lend this title to Boston, but I would doggedly disagree. What else rests in store for Avalium and its dark future? Could it possibly be cursed? And can it be redeemed of its horrendous history?
This has been Fabian Akraki of The Monster Times bringing you the nourishing news that you deserve to hear.
Circe slapped the newspaper down and gulped. Whoever this boy was that was related to the Chimera was in for a rude awakening. Twelve years and no one has tracked him down yet? There was a pang of pity throbbing in his heart, and another of unrivaled panic.
Ever since Circe was five, he'd been having dreams of a dead woman sitting beside him in a dark blue room while a baby was crying. Blood had been everywhere, even on the baby's face. And for some strange reason, the voice of the baby always felt like it belonged to him. The dream would fade in and out of a gargantuan winged creature with demonic red eyes, the kind of eyes that never leased its anger. Then there would be a deep burn in his chest that woke him up in the middle of the night screaming. These dreams would occur once a month every year and he never forgot them.
What if Fabian's article had been referring to him? Could he potentially be the child monster? Or was this all a scheme for Fabian to get more money from The Monster Times? He seemed like a grimy money hungry journalist. But then again, this article could still be about someone else. It had to be.
His stomach gurgled again. Circe skirted around to the front of a convenience store called Eazys. He slipped in casually and grabbed as many honey buns as he could fit into his hoodie pocket and snuck to the bathroom in the back. He ate as many of the wrapped sweets as possible—savoring the creamy resinous goo that stuck on top of his stubby lips. He went back to get some more. The glass door creaked open and Circe quietly reached for the handle.
A large boulder-like hand scrunched his shoulders. "Hey! What are you doing?"
Heart dropping like an anchor, Circe looked up. The store clerk was a tall rocklike bald man with a lot of hair on his body. He appeared grievously hostile.
"So you think you can just waltz in here and steal from my store? Yeah? Well, you haven't been the first one! I've noticed the Pinglepops have completely disappeared from my shelves—who the hell do ya think you are?" The clerk stared. "What happened to your eye? Maybe I should do you in another one in for stealing in my store! You mute or what? Say something!"
Circe's eye had formed a dark purple throbbing ring. It wasn't from the hunger, at least not directly. He remembered trying to sneak bread from the Brixons and then the fridge snapping shut. Next thing he knows he was being held up in the air and a huge bony fist crush his eye. Mr. Brixon never apologized, and not wanting to take any more abuse, and feeling hungrier than ever, Circe fled from the foster home.
"Mosquitos," Circe uttered brusquely, There was no need to mention the Brixons.
"How about you stop looking at my stomach and actually tell me what happened?"
The clerk's stomach really was rock solid, and it vexed every time he spoke.
"It's none of your damn business."
"Excuse me? You're re—YOU SCOUNDREL!" The thickset man bent down and held his balls, trying to stifle his tears from trickling out. "Come back here!"
Circe ran briskly toward the back of the store, hoping not to attract too much attention to himself. He ran past an empty muddy road until he came to a dark alleyway that smelled strongly of rotten garlic pizza. He emerged at the end of the alleyway and to his right he saw two rat faced teenage boys corner a girl. They were ghostly white guys with a shocking amount of tattoos that appeared to be slithering from their necks. Being so young, it almost looked like ink pens to Circe.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
One of the boys whistled as the other one laughed impishly. Circe hesitated and stood back to listen.
"Leave me alone," said the young brunette. She had a long rectangular chin and speckles of dirty freckles around her nose.
"Or what, you're gonna report us?"
"C'mon, lemme feel your pussy sweetums, I know it's dripping," said the second boy. His fingers were slowly inching toward his cock.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard us freckle cake, we want to touch you."
"That's assault, and I'm twelve you bozos!" the girl shouted.
"No…" said the first boy pushing her against the wall in a chokehold. "This is assault, and if you don't shut the hell up and do what we say, I might just slide a knife right in there." The wolfish peals of laughter rang even louder this time, echoing through the alleyways. The boys closed in on her, rubbing themselves. They were going to strip her and leave her body for dead.
"Pull your pants down," the first boy demanded, his teeth bared in a lascivious grin.
"How about you guys pull your pants down?"
The two teenage boys turned toward the unfamiliar voice, completely flummoxed. Their pencil-like eyebrows furrowed.
"Who are you?"
"Someone you don't want to mess with. Leave her alone," Circe said. He jerked his head at the girl. She understood the message right away and frantically dashed away.
"You sound braver than you look," the first boy remarked. The second boy lifted up his shirt and something metallic met Circe's eyes. The first boy followed suit.
"So how about it dawg?"
BANG!
Circe sprinted in the opposite direction and turned a quick bend in another alleyway. Bullets were whizzing past his ears and hitting the dumpsters, air vents, and some of the apartment windows. Several more bangs thundered across the void. Circe felt two giant stabs in his ribcage and the third one by his buttocks. His breathing was growing weaker and raspier and blood was dripping down his leg and through his shirt. This was it, he should've been dead by now. One more bullet would've completely sealed the deal. But something strange was happening inside his chest. A fit of deep fiery anger ensued. By the time he emerged out of the alleyway, Circe's bullet holes began to regenerate, his gray eyes turned red, his hands morphed into claws and black wings began to sprout off his back blades. His white hair grew longer and bushes of strange tan fur grew on his skin.
The teenage boys stopped, bumping into each other in shock. Their eyes were hauntingly glued to the creature and their mouths gaped open. "What the hell?"
"Let's get away from this freak!"
But it was a moment too late, the human Chimera swung around and blew a massive torch of fire at them. The boys had nowhere to run and were instantly consumed by the flames. When the fire crinkled down, what remained was a pool of blood, shriveled skin, and ashes lying crumpled to the ground on top of some skeletons.
"Control yourself Circe, this isn't who you are!" An echoey voice in his head rang out. The wings began to shrink, the hair shrunk to its normal size, and his body and hands were back to normal again. Circe panted as if he just ran a harrowing mile. Suddenly a weird paint of red and blue lights brushed against his face.
"Stop right there young man, you're under arrest!"
Across the alleyway, a group of police cars had ganged up on the alleyway and several policemen were pointing their guns at Circe. Their hands were trembling, which meant they probably saw what Circe had become and the horrific thing he had just done.
Circe vomited on the policeman's shoes and feeling faint and weightless, blacked out.
Circe blinked his eyes open. He was in a small square room with too many lights. Two long square windows were against the walls but they were barely see-through and seemed somewhat entirely black. The golden Avalium Police Department seal was plastered against the wall and the floor was tiled and extraordinarily polished. And his hands…well his hand weren't cuffed, strangely enough. It was almost as if they were urging him to go, but Circe knew he couldn't leave.
The lights were bright LEDs and they were all facing him like an array of headlights. A black camera craned down from the ceiling and there was a blank white table standing in front of him with a paged document. It appeared to be a contract of some sort.
The table appeared to have been bridging the gap between him and one other figure. As Circe's vision drew into focus he saw a tall man with white blonde hair like smooth butter and a black cloak. The cloak, his slim stature, and his somewhat glowing buttery white blonde hair made him look serious and rather occultic like he belonged in some forbidden brotherhood. And his ears were perked up like an elf's and it didn't do well to conceal the occultic look.
The elfish blonde man presented a strange silver badge with an eye in the center. It gleamed brightly in the light. He sat down, slid the badge in the center, and made it a point to lean in close.
"My name is David Elvengaard, or Elven for short. I'm a Shadower and recruiter at Avalium University, and I also work very closely with the Avalium Police Department. That badge you just saw is called an Alma Mater badge. It certifies my legitimacy in my powers, my education, and my connection to the law. If I wanted I could have you arrested on the spot. But for now, I prefer we just talk. The cameras have been turned off, so one's recording us."
Circe stared closely at the eldritch elf man and then glanced at the two cameras. He was right. Earlier they had been blinking red but now they had stopped. What were they playing at? What did this strange man want? Circe wasn't sure whether to play it cool or to start vomiting again.
"Your name is Circe Chimer, son of the Great Chimera-–Halvorok Chimer. Your mother and father were former graduates of Avalium University. Your mother, Ranoa Chimer died when you were just a baby, and no, that wasn't a dream, you did see her. You also transformed into a Chimera that killed those boys in cold blood. You live with the Brixons down in Gibbons Street and have been with them for twelve years. You left this morning at 7:00 am. And currently, the government of Avalium either wants you dead or thrown in prison for life. I know all there is to know about you and more according to my V.I.P. police records so you better not evade my questions or try to remain silent. What happened out there?"
Circe found it strange that if he wasn't being recorded that he had to recount the riotous tale. But he told him everything. From the Brixons starving him, to the teenage boys attempting to rape the young girl, to turning into that mysterious creature.
"So I had to do it, otherwise they would've killed me," Circe said, finishing off his miserable story.
"Well if you regenerated, you could've stopped and called the authorities. Why did you have to take matters into your own hands? These are two juvenile lives you just ended Circe, this is serious."
Circe chewed on it for a moment. He honestly didn't know, and that's what frightened him. If it hadn't been for the voice in the back of his head, he probably would've gone on a rampage. That monster within him scared him just as much as everybody else, especially when it was uncontrollable. Who was he, really?
"I-I don't know how to answer that sir."
"Exactly, neither do we. This is why I'm going to propose a deal with you, a solution perhaps. Those kind policemen and I feel your powers need to be trained before it runs loose and destroys the city. So it seems I've run into the decision of having to enroll you into Avalium Univerity, a school that specializes in the higher education of training monsters like yourself. You'll be among peers of your age and older, learning how to use your powers expertly, and most importantly, righteously. You'll be among the best Shadowers Avalium has ever had, and we hope to train you guys into one as well. What do you say?"
It sounded great at first, but to Circe it was a terrible pitch inside and out. Firstly, he hated school. Secondly, he hated people—the Brixons had made sure of that and had stomped all the joyful possibilities of making friends he could ever possibly have. But thirdly, and most importantly, he was afraid of what would happen when he got there. Not just because of his transformation powers but also because he would be expected to complete dangerous tasks.
"No," Circe said flatly.
"No? Well, it's either you enroll in this university or face a lifetime in prison. Not juvie, real prison since you're a supernatural criminal. You'll be slammed in those walls with no plans to escape and no parole. And you can't just monster yourself out, this prison is highly enchanted to not allow Shadowers like you to escape."
"What's a Shadower?"
"Someone who hunts monsters for a living. Like a bounty hunter, only Shadowers are more educated about monsters and are marginally more powerful. There are a few types but I'm not gonna delve into all of that right now. What matters is your verdict, Circe, I'm still waiting for your final response."
Slavery in jail or slavery in a highly dangerous monster school? There wasn't really much to go off of here. Circe noticed the multiple-paged contract lying across from him. He didn't have to read it to understand.
"It states all the terms and conditions of accepting to go to the school. Avalium isn't exactly a safe place for kids when it comes to the materials we teach. It has its dark spots.
"I know, but you're still gonna force me to sign my life away aren't you?"
"I'm not making you do anything, I'm simply the middle man. This is for your own good, Circe. The ultimate goal here is to keep you and the citizens safe."
Circe had an itch to ask exactly how dark this school was but decided against it. It was best to go in blind than to go in afraid. He picked up the pen and began to scribble on the bottom lines.
"Great. Now that that's settled, it's time that I took you home. The fall term will begin on September fifteenth. Your uniform, golden ring, and school manual will be in the mail about a week before the school term. The Monster Bus will be taking you and your peers to the university, so be ready by 7:00 pm. Got it? Good."
Elven led him to his black police car and they drove all the way down to Gibbons street. Circe honestly wondered what the Brixons would think when he arrived with this ominous man. But then again, a part of him didn't really care about what the Brixons thought of him at that moment.