***Six months later***

The airlock doors hissed open to reveal a brilliantly white, pristine corridor. Thick but clear plasma glass horizontally lined both the far walls, revealing the surrounding stars and the rest of the XITD space station in its full, clinical glory.

You have: Six thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two unread messages at your terminal. A generated, emotionless voice announced from the speakers above her in a crisp tone.

Her eyes scanned the corridor carefully.

What is that? She thought, her eyes squinted sharply as they focused in on something.

Two dust particles were floating gently before her, caught in the flow of the air system and drifting through the air like dinghies on a slow river.

She sighed loudly and stepped through the door. Her heels clacked on the floor with a sharp pinch.

“Eight months away and this place is falling apart. System request: Archive all messages received. If it's important, they’ll send another.” Her voice was quiet but crisp, every word articulated with great clarity, a tone that was soft yet cutting at the same time.

She moved with a mechanical-like grace, her strides calm and perfectly uniform. Standing seven feet tall, she was a wyrufal dragoness, split in colour down the length of her entire body. Her left side was a dazzling crystal white, her right a shimmering onyx black. Her two large, almost sad looking eyes had a chilling icey blue hue but a fierce intellect hidden behind them; they were constantly watching everything. She was dressed in a sharp, tight-fitting feminine suit that complimented her long and elegant figure. Her figure itself was a more traditional draconic body shape, as per the typical wyrufal species, with a slender neck and functional wings, that were currently folded up as neatly as possible against her back. Her long tail did not sway as she walked; it merely bounced slightly as her heels hit the floor.

She followed the corridor until she hit the pair of automatic doors ahead of her, which parted to reveal a giant laboratory within, bustling with smartly dressed Draconic Alliance XITD scientists in their sharp white lab-suits. The lab was several hundred metres long, with every inch of wall stacked with loud clicking computers, whirring analysis equipment and whiteboards covered in notes. Scientists quickly paced back and forth the room, checking notes and conversing hurriedly with one another. Upon her entry, however, that definitive clicking of her heels suddenly silenced the room. The entire floor stopped whatever they were doing, and raised their fists collectively into the air, sticking their thumb and outermost fingers out whilst their other fingers remained clasped against their palms. The dragoness repeated the gesture and after a few seconds, the floor resumed as it was.

“Evangeline! Perfect timing.” A sly-sounding voice called out from behind her.

“Scyler! Am I relieved to be home! Such tiresome business dealing with the Royal Military Division.”

“I bet. You can do us all a favour and keep any details of your escapade to yourself.”

Evangeline smiled, showing a brief glimpse of her milky white teeth.

“I see even eight months isn’t enough time to refine your people skills, Scyler.”

The white dragon stood up from the bench he’d been resting on, currently dressed in a tight-fitting grey shirt and pair of black trousers.

“I don’t need them. People are shit. Anyway, did you receive any of my messages about the on-going project?” They began to walk together, tracing around the outer walls of the lab.

“I did. I must say, I am deeply intrigued. An anomalous plague? Truly anomalous that is, and you believe it to be biologically engineered? I dare say, this is a first for the DA and possibly the entire universe. Oh, before we go on -” She placed a slender hand on his shoulder and plucked at his shirt, one of her claws tugging at the stitching. “You must wear standard issue XITD uniform going forward, Scyler. Seeing as you’re under single employment now.” She laughed as she spoke, half playful, half deadly serious.

“Oh? Did it all go as planned?” Scyler tried to hide it, but there was a hint of concern in his voice.

“It did. You have been formally terminated from the Royal Military Division, effective from when Chief-commander Koa announced it.”

Scyler paused for a second.

“... Anything else…?”

“No. You’re still my loyal, effective XITD agent. This present you’ve brought me was motivation enough to keep you onboard.”

“Jace was furious, Evangelene. I mean, I knew you’d pull through, but even so -”

“Oh he tried. Believe you me. He is on your tail, Scyler. You need to keep your nose clean and stay aboard the station, no more field assignments for the rest of the year. I’ve also agreed that the RMD are allowed to inspect the station - within reason to - ensure cooperation between the divisions.”

“There it is! I knew there was going to be some terms and conditions lurking. No more field assignments? Seriously?” He huffed loudly, a scowl flickering across his face.

“I know you love your field work, Scyler. But this is better than being imprisoned.”

“You sure about that? The cake selection in the canteen is pretty dire at the moment.”

“Do they still have the cream slices?” Evanagline shuddered to a stop, an unusual amount of urgency in her voice.

“Of course, it's one of the few things that stayed. The crew knows it's your favourite.”

“Good! Then all is well. Now, enough about your personal business, you’re fine, I took care of it. Tell me about this… corruption.” Her pace suddenly continued and the two exited the large laboratory through another set of sliding doors, continuing down another corridor and into a much smaller, darker lab, alone.

“It’s fascinating, the more we’ve learnt, the more it’s revealed its true power to us. This isn’t just some random nomad plague, this is the real deal.” For once, the dragon sounded genuine.

Scyler stopped in front of a rack of shelves. Stacked neatly on them were several identical medical aids, each one made from solid white metal, with a vial of blue liquid worked into the front of the design. Attached to the front and sides of the shelves were bright yellow and black warning signs, showing a skull split in half down the middle; one side normal, the other side melting and cracked. Danger of corruption.

“Do tell.” Evangaline prompted, flicking a dust particle off her cuff.

“Experimental first response pack. Provokes extreme regenerative response when used, near death subject brought back to complete health.”

“Time?”

“Two minutes. Including bone regeneration.”

The dragoness recoiled slightly, but immediately regained her composure.

“Two minutes? That's… remarkable. There must be a draw-back, otherwise we’d have sent this for full, mass-scale production already instead of sitting it in storage.”

“Can only be used on someone already infected or immune to the corruption. If you’re not immune, this will corrupt you.” As Scyler spoke, he dropped the pack back onto the shelf with a slight hint of disgust.

“Hmm. I’m sure we can figure out a way around that. How many of these have been produced?”

“Standard batch.”

“One hundred and fifty in storage… Hmm, okay. Take me to her.”

“Already? We have a couple of other prototypes you may be interested in?”

“We can look at those after. I want to see what we’re dealing with.”

“Right you are. This way.”

Scyler led the way out of the darker lab and through the bowels of the facilities. They walked in silence now, Evangaline drumming her fingers against the pocket of her suit. Their journey took them through a series of heavily armoured doors, each guarded by uniformed XITD soldiers, all of whom greeted Evangaline in the same way the laboratory staff did, and quickly granted passage for the two.

Several bulkheads later, they arrived into a small observatory, overlooking a larger surgical room via a wide, one-way mirror.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Goodness! Is this her…?” Her dragoness composure dropped again, but a brief shake of her head placed her back in her cool state.

“Indeed it is. She corrupted over two hundred nomads personally in the space of about four hours. Quite the appetite.”

Strung up in the middle of the room, surrounded by spotlights and pumping pipes, the blue and bloodied body of Plasia hung like a puppet, her limbs strung up and pulled apart by huge mechanical grippers. Her mid-section was cut open, with strands of intestines pulled free and suspended by much smaller robotic apparatus, hovering in front of her bisected torso like an in-progress crime scene investigation. From her mutilated form, several needles had been pressed into her soft skin and were either drawing fluid, or pumping things into her. She had several loosely bandaged wounds across her legs and arms, but despite the gruesome nature of the exposed organs and in progress examination, not a single drop of fluid hit the ground; everything was perfectly contained and monitored to the nth degree. Her every angle was lit by intense spotlights, and a series of beeping cameras were rigged to the ceiling, recording everything.

Her head hung limp, eyes closed and breathing slowly, defeated and broken. Dried tears stained her face.

Around her, several XITD scientists whisked away trays of bottled blue samples and cuttings taken straight from her body, wheeling the extracted material into another lab, through more heavy, guarded security doors.

As Evagaline took in the scene, she opened her mouth and went to speak, but cut herself off as Plasia’s weak head looked up, her tired sapphire eyes flicked open and stared right at the dragoness for just a few brief seconds, before falling again and hanging limply in her restraints.

“She just made eye contact with me… through a one way mirror… was that coincidence?” The dragoness mused, scratching her pocket again.

“It is not. It appears that corriphite-infected czarites are able to detect when they’re being watched. We… don’t understand the mechanism right now. She couldn’t see you, per say, but she knew you were there.”

“Incredible.”

Scyler stared at Evangeline for a moment, then turned his gaze to the czarite through the glass.

“Your orders?”

“Intensify the research, as much as the subject can withstand. We must unravel this condition.”

*

The loud sound of bubbling liquid filled the kitchen. Several pans filled with various soups were laid out on the hobs over the oven, a couple just starting to boil over.

A pair of antennae bobbed into view, just barely visible above the kitchen’s work surfaces.

There was a sudden screech, metal against the tiled flooring.

A stool was pushed across the floor and, after a split second, the hyper-active form of Tivy bounded up and quickly turned the temperature down, stirring the boiling soups with a frantic energy.

Her head had a bob of curling, fluffy golden locks, hiding the base of her antenna that stood on her head like rabbit ears. She wore a white pinny to protect her clothes that had a cheeky smiley face on the front and emblazoned with the words Ask me about my buns! It was covered in thick splatterings of orange soup.

She pushed a chopping board up onto an empty surface space. She leaned over a little precariously, standing on the stool on her tip-toes to reach as she dropped a handful of vegetables onto the board. To her left, a knife rack was fully stocked with a wicked variety of tremendously sharp cutting instruments, most of which had a fine layer of dust on top. She reached out carefully and grabbed her old trusty knife, with a bright pastel pink handle and completely rounded point, closer to a butter knife than anything else. But, it was sharp enough to cut through the selection of multi-coloured veggies below her. Just behind the chopping board were several small bowls filled with spices and seasoning, perfect to pinch up and drop into the delights she was whipping up.

She bobbed up and down gently, swaying from side to side with a pleasant hum; no music today though, she wanted things a little more quiet than usual.

*Tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak*

“Mushroom soup for Venner and Robin! I’ll never know how people tell which mushrooms are poisonous and which are delicious, you know? Trial and error maybe? Wow, people are crazy!” She scooped a handful of freshly and finely sliced mushrooms from the board and stretched across to the hobs, dropping them into the already boiling broth, following up swiftly with several pinches of spices and flavourings. “And some extra love for the married couple!”

Once satisfied, she moved onto the next boiling pot, chopping and dropping in some tangy onion-like vegetables.

“A little spice for the feisty cat, help keep that throat clear! Six-spice soup for Oxyi!” A more generous sprinkling of bright orange powder was sprinkled into the gently bubbling pot, followed by a vigorous, two handed stir.

Back to the chopping board then, and more ingredients were fetched from around in the kitchen, accompanied by Tivy’s gentle humming and the light patter of her feet on the ceramic tiles.

“Full of energy! Save some for me! Lion’s stew for Trent!” A handful of larger mushrooms and other fresh greens were dropped into the next pan, along with some salt and pepper, pinched from the piles neatly arranged in front of her.

“Warm and loving, for my dear friend, Geralt. Roast nuts with a hint of chilli.” Her face dropped a little as she spoke, crushing the selection of small nuts with the side of her knife and dropping them into the next boiling pan. After a couple of seconds though, she resumed her pace, smiling at the pan. “I’ll look after you, my friend.”

Next, she glanced across at a smallest pot in the middle of the others.

“Mhmmm, spinach and broccoli soup for me! Yummy yummy!” She giggled to herself, looking at the next pan of bright green, bubbling soup. She gave all the pans a good stir and returned to the cutting board, when she suddenly felt a shot of anxiety through her stomach, her face turning to stone.

“SEETH’S CHICKEN?!!” Her voice cracked as she spoke.

She craned her neck to look at the fridge on her far left, its bright silver body standing tall above her, almost as if it was challenging her.

“OH NO!”

Hopping off the stool, she stood in front of the fridge with deep concern, shifting left and right slightly as if she was imagining herself opening it.

“I just gotta - I just gotta cut up her the chic - *URK* the chick - *URK* the chick- *URK*”

She stopped herself, holding her hands up as if to say “no more” to her own mind. Four dry heaves were more than enough.

Before she could proceed any further, a gentle creak in the background revealed the cautiously approaching form of Geralt, who looked over at Tivy with tired but concerned eyes, currently clad in a dark navy dressing gown and matching slippers.

“Tivy… you okay?” He asked quietly, padding over to her.

“Uhm.. yeah, I’m - I’m fine, I just… I forgot about the chic- *URK*, I forgot about the chicke- *URK*, I just forgot about the chic- *URK*, I just forgot to prepare Seeth’s chick- *URK*”

“- Hey Tiv, listen, why don’t you let me deal with the meat and you can carry on with the rest of the preparation?” Geralt’s shy smile was met with immediate glee from the smaller girl, and she dashed over to him, throwing her arms around his body for a close hug.

“Oh Geralt, yes please! My hero! If you can just blast it in the air fryer, you would be such a big help!”

“No problem at all, Tivy. What are you cooking for me today?” He reached into the fridge and grabbed the plate of chicken breasts with both hands, placing it down on the other side of the kitchen, away from Tivy and her various soups and shielding her from the sight of the raw meat with his body.

“Ahhh! You’ll have to see! It’ll be delicious though! Promise!”

They worked separately, Geralt grabbing one of the larger knives, gently brushing the dust away and cutting the chicken into strips, while Tivy kept the soups cooking, tasting each one and adding more seasoning where it was needed. Tivy kept far away until she got the thumbs up for Geralt to confirm that the raw meat was now safely away in the fryer, but a clatter at the door before too long broke up their pleasant small talk.

“Hey Tivy! I’m home! Think I could get a little ki- Geralt!” Trent appeared in the hallway, cutting himself off as he noticed that Tivy wasn’t alone in the kitchen. “N-Nice to see you up, my friend!” The fox flushed red with embarrassment and quickly busied himself, pulling his jacket and shoes off.

“Th-Think you could get a-a-a little kick in the leg?” Tivy stumbled, hopping down off her stool and approaching Trent with both embarrassment and determination.

“Y-yeah! A little kick in the leg, why not.” Trent replied, quickly ruffling his hair nervously.

“Why are you both acting so weird?” Geralt laughed, watching as Tivy booted Trent in the shin and quickly hurried back to her stool, both their faces bright red. Seeing Geralt’s smile and laughter immediately brought a warmth into Tivy’s chest.

“N-no reason, I better go get ready for dinner, that smells lovely, Tivy!”

“You knows it! I made you something to give you that fighting energy for your shifts!”

“Ugh! Thank goodness! I have had enough of idiot customers. Whoever said “the customer is always right.” should be shot. The customer is always wrong. Always.” The fox vented, flapping his arms about the air. He yanked at his tie firmly and dashed off towards the bedrooms, eager to remove the uniform he’d been trapped in all day.

A few moments later, the door clacked again as yet more people returned home. Three sets of footsteps this time.

“Hey folks, welcome home.” Geralt smiled again as Oxyi rounded the corner first. The lioness had grown her hair out into a full side bob, with the right mix of elegant and feisty captured in its blonde curls.

Behind her, Venner and Robin also appeared, whilst Oxyi and Venner were clad in their security gear, Robin was dressed in a light pink shirt and smart trousers, with a slight sweet smell to him as he walked in.

The girls took their gear off quickly with a breathy sigh and a moan, as they dropped the heavy armoured plates to the floor.

“I can’t believe that guy said that to you, Venner. Seriously, I'd have clocked him one for suggesting that. Nevermind say it.” Oxyi laughed, pressing a quick hug into Geralt’s back as he continued to help Tivy with the cooking.

“Eh. It's fine. I’ve had worse said to me. That smells wonderful, Tivy! How long will dinner be?”

Tivy bounced on her stool, taking a small spoon and sampling the mushroom soup after a quick blow across its steaming surface to cool it down.

“Mhmm! Tastes good! Mayhaps a little more pepper? I’d say ten minutes for everyone.”

“Enough time for a shower!” Oxyi nodded, heading towards the back of the room. “Glad to see you up, Geralt.” She turned back and smiled at him, the older cat returning the smile with equal, heartfelt vigour.

“I had to give Tivy a hand, you know what she’s like around raw meat and blood. Although typically chicken isn’t sold bloody but…” He sighed softly as he realised he was rambling. “Just happy to help.”

Before they could continue though, there was another thump at the front door, the sound of the hinges opening and closing again with a loud slam.

“SEETH!” Tivy squealed with a great big grin, darting off her stool and heading towards the front door.

She skidded into the hallway, whereby her grin swept off her face.

Her face turned a ghostly white as she clasped her hands to her mouth in shock.

She went weak at the knees and fell backwards but Oxyi was already there, scooping her up before she could land on anything.

The thudding, towering form of Seeth appeared in the hallway, along with the slight patter of liquid filling everyone's ears.

She stood tall and strong, hunched over so she didn’t walk into the door frame, the yellow latex surface of her hazard suit was streaked with blood, still fresh and dripping. Clasped tightly in her left hand was a suit-case, also dripping in blood. Oxyi greeted Seeth with a small smile as she helped Tivy back into the kitchen, ensuring her body was between her and the czarite. Both Oxyi and Venner were unfazed at the sight of so much blood at this point; it wasn’t a rare occurrence that Seeth came home looking like she’d single-handedly fought a war - and won. Geralt seemed a little on edge however, and kept his eyes down at the chopping board before him.

The alien looked around the room as she unclasped her mask, revealing her model-like czarite face.

“Hey, Seeth. Job go alright?” Venner asked quietly, avoiding Seeth’s eyes.

“Got paid.” She held the briefcase out in front of her. “Sorry, Tiv. Didn’t get a chance to clean off. I’ll uh… go clean up.”

*

“Ninety-seven…”

He exhaled slowly through pursed lips, bringing his body down to the floor and pushing it back up again, controlled and strong.

“Ninety-eight…”

He repeated the action precisely with deep, slow breaths.

“Ninety-nine…”

But as he went down for his final push-up of the set…

“Diego! Breakfast please! I’d adore some of those wonderful kerin-gar eggs you make so perfectly, if you will!” The feminine voice called out through the collar fastened tightly around his neck.

He broke form and collapsed onto the soft mat below him with a slap, sighing loudly.

“Of course, Karen. I’ll get right on that.” He replied. Anything for you, Karen. Bah.

The collar beeped, signalling she had cut the communication.

I hate this.

He pushed himself to his feet and took a look at himself in the mirrored wall of the personal gym. This had been built for him a few months ago, to use as he pleased; she wanted him to be in top physical shape after all. It was one of the only things he liked about this place. But it wasn’t enough to make him happy.

His ears flicked slightly as he posed half-heartedly for himself, tail swishing from side to side in annoyance.

Admittedly, he hadn’t looked this good in a while. His amethystine eyes glanced over his form quickly; he’d bulked out, it was obvious now.

The fresh, high-quality food Karen bought was doing wonders for him, plus the abundance of physical duties to keep him busy had resulted in a thicker physique than he’d had in all his years of travelling. Every inch of him was thicker and more muscular. His hair was sleek, silky and well groomed, his sable skin was supple and well maintained, but his eyes?

His eyes were tired.

So very, very tired.

He focused and pushed a fake smile onto his face. There were worse places to be than this, he knew that. He bloody well knew that. But this wasn’t him.

People would kill for a set-up like this. He was surrounded by hi-tech, cutting edge, quality pieces of personal fitness equipment, in a glass and mirrored room in a private estate that was surrounded by pristine emerald fields, snowy mountains and crystal rivers. This was how some nomads could only dream of living; fresh air in their lungs, eating well, surrounded by the beauty of nature and housed in a sleek, advanced and rather cushy mansion. Absolutely, there were worse places to live.

The collar buzzed alive again.

“Oh, the pool needs cleaning today too, Diego. Could you see to that sooner rather than later? I think I fancy a swim this morning.” The voice cooed again.

But this?

“Actually, do it straight after breakfast please.”

This was hell.