“I'm telling you, it's weird. There was graffiti there before and now it's gone.” With those firm words, Felicity Chambers marched down the alleyway between an old bookstore and an antique shop, pointing to the blank metal door straight ahead and against the wall of the antique store. A door which ostensibly led into the back room of the shop itself. “See? It’s completely blank.”

The other blonde girl, trailing after the first, offered a confused shrug after stopping to stare at the blank metal door for a moment. “Come on, Flick. Are you really losing your mind because someone actually cleaned up some graffiti? I know you're super-into finding all this weird stuff and trying to figure it out, but seriously, that's a stretch and you know it.”

Rolling her eyes, Flick shook her head. “It’s more than that, Roxa. This is some really weird stuff, seriously. Look at me. We've been friends for how many years now?”

“I dunno,” came the response, “what year was it when your mom arrested me for hitchhiking?”

“You were gonna get yourself hurt or killed,” Flick retorted. “And that was when you were nine. So like, seven, almost eight years. Friends for eight years, and how many times have I been wrong when I said there was something weird going on?”

“Uhh…” Pausing thoughtfully, Roxa began counting silently on her fingers, raising one after another quite rapidly.

Flick, in turn, swatted her hands. “I meant how many times have I been proven wrong? Not proving myself right because the weird thing managed to disappear is a totally different thing. I swear, there were really strange sounds coming out of that drainage ditch, and the colored lights over the old Konham silo were totally real. It's not my fault nobody else notices these things.”

Folding her arms, Roxa gave a short nod. “Sure, there’s weird stuff. But most of it is just from people around here being bored and trying to find something to do. It’s bored, drunk people with nothing better to occupy their time. Come on, you really think it could be aliens or demons or something? Around here? Besides, weird sounds and lights I’ll give you, but disappearing graffiti? What exactly is super-strange about that?” She arched an eyebrow pointedly. “I’m just saying, if your paranormal evidence can be explained with soap and water, I think you probably need to go back to the drawing board.”

“I showed you the picture,” Flick retorted.

“Yeah,” came the response. “You showed me a picture of this door with nothing written on it.”

Flick gestured emphatically. “That’s the whole point! I'm telling you, when I took that picture there were a bunch of weird symbols painted all over this thing. I took the picture and ran home to show you. Then when we looked at it, the graffiti wasn’t there. It was there when I took the photo, but the camera didn’t pick up any of it. Now the graffiti’s gone out of the picture too. You can’t tell me that’s not really fucking weird. And you don’t really think I imagined it. You just..” Trailing off, Flick paused, squinting that way. “I’m onto you, you know.”

Roxa, in turn, blinked in confusion. “Uh, what?” She shifted a bit on her feet, sniffing once.

Pointing, Flick announced, “You know damn well that trying to talk me out of this is just gonna make me want to prove it more. You’re into this stuff too. You just don’t wanna admit it.”

A slight blush crossed her friend’s face before Roxa retorted, “Actually, it's because I promised your mom I'd try to talk you out of doing anything that could get you in trouble, again. She scares me more than you do. One, she’s the sheriff. And two, she knows Brian and Andi’s phone numbers. They may have adopted me eight years ago, but they're not going to take my word over the sheriff’s. If you get yourself killed falling down a hole or something, I'm going to be right behind you.”

“Aww,” Flick teased, “see, that’s why we’re friends. Because we’re totally willing to die within a few minutes of each other. That’s real devotion.”

“That is not what I was--” Cutting herself off, Roxa turned slightly, sniffing again as she looked back toward the entrance of the alley. “Come on, Flick, let’s go find something more interesting to do.” Her voice was somewhat tense as she took a step toward the mouth of the alley, hand reaching back in an attempt to catch the other girl’s shoulder.

Flick, however, wasn’t paying attention. Instead, she had already stepped closer to the door and tried the knob. “Hey,” she announced, “it's unlocked. Come on.”

Behind her, Roxa heard those words and blinked, quickly turning back that way. “Wait, what--” It was too late, however, as Flick had already stepped through the doorway. As soon as she did, it slammed shut behind her with a loud clang.

On the inside of what turned out to be a narrow hallway with a single door at the end, Flick jumped as she was practically shoved inside by the closing door. “Hey!” Turning that way, she tried the knob, only to find that it refused to budge.

“Flick?” Roxa hit the door hard with her fist. “Flick, come on! That’s not funny. We’ve gotta go!”

“It’s locked!” Flick called back to her. “Go around the front, I'll meet you out there!” She heard the other girl object, but turned away and started to move down the narrow hall to that second door. On the way, she grimaced while muttering, “Yeah, Mom, I know what trespassing is. But see, the door was totally--what’s that? Grounded for two weeks? Yeah, that’s fair.”

By that point, she had reached the second door and took a breath while trying the knob. She was already mentally rehearsing the explanation she would give the owner of the antique store, assuming this led into the main shop.

Except, as she stepped through the doorway, Flick found herself not in the main room of a store full of old furniture. And not in a back storage room, either. Instead, she was in what appeared to be an old unfinished basement or something. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all made of cement, with a few wooden beams here and there. The room was about twenty feet by fifty feet, with the doorway she had just come through in the rear left corner. Against the far wall was a set of stairs leading up, while what appeared to be a large dog cage sat in the exact center of the room. It was large enough to hold several full-sized Mastiffs, though there only appeared to be one figure within at the moment. That single occupant was hidden by a ratty old blanket. Three light bulbs hung from strings along the ceiling of the room, each weak enough that even with their combined light, most of the place was cast in deep shadows.

“Uh.” Seeing that, Flick frowned. It took the girl a moment to find her voice, and when she did, it was a barely audible whisper. “Okay, is anyone really creeped out right now?” Raising her own hand, she glanced at it. “Oh good, it’s unanimous then.”

Still, there was nothing else to do. So, she tugged the phone from her pocket and hit the record function before walking closer to the cage. She had to see what this was. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she got closer, yet she pushed down the instinctive urge to walk (or even run) away. Neither her sheriff mother or reporter father would walk away from something like this, so she couldn’t either. If there was something weird going on (beyond the fact that this room was a strange thing to have in the back of an antique shop), she was going to find it and prove it.

Kneeling down close to the cage, Flick held the phone up to give the camera a good view. “Hey, boy? Or… girl? You okay in there? Don’t worry, it’s okay. Just don’t start barking and freak me out, okay? I really don’t need to be jump-scared right now.” Taking a few more steps, she hesitantly drew a pocket knife and flipped it open. What she planned on doing with that wasn’t clear, even to her. But it made the girl feel a little better. She looked for food or water dishes, but couldn't see any. However, her eyes did spot an empty plastic bottle with the lid on it in one corner. Which made her frown even more. “Hang on, dogs can’t open those. Why would there be--”

In mid-sentence, she was interrupted as the blanket was hurled off and a figure practically leapt at the side of the cage where Flick was kneeling. As a yelp escaped her and she fell back onto her rear, the girl finally saw the cage’s occupant. It was not a dog. Instead, it was a… fox?

No. No, it was too large to be a fox. The figure was humanoid in size and shape, but covered in short, silvery-white fur, with a fox-like face. Its snout was pushing through the bars of the cage as it sniffed at her. “Hey! Hey, you--” It started talking to her.

And that was enough. Scrambling backwards frantically with a strangled cry while not even bothering to take the time to get up, Flick only found her voice once her back hit the wall. And even then, all she managed to do was blurt, “What the fuck?!”

Before the strange figure in the cage could react, there was a sudden ringing noise at the top of the stairs on the far side of the room. It was accompanied almost immediately by what sounded like a pair of gunshots. Flick, hearing that, went to grab her phone to call her mother, only to realize she had dropped it over by the cage. The cage with the crazy, fur-covered fox… person in it.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

But there was no time to even think about grabbing it. The two gunshots were followed by a series of loud crashing sounds, as something heavy came tumbling down them. It was a man, a male figure who cursed and grunted as he rolled to a stop on the cement floor, before giving a loud whistle. As he did so, a furious series of near-deafening barks came from the top of the stairs, followed by several more gunshots.

“That’s right, kids! It’s suppertime!” the man shouted. “Feast on Heretics!” He rose then, pivoting away from the stairs. Which gave Flick her first decent look at him. He was tall, well over six feet, and very muscular. His skin was quite pale, his head bald. He looked like a slightly larger and paler version of the actor Michael Chiklis back when he had been on the show The Shield.

There was, however, one other major difference between the two. Which was revealed when the man saw Flick hunched in the corner, and smiled. Even in the dim lighting, she could see his teeth… all of his teeth. He had several rows of all incredibly sharp canines. Like a shark.

“Oh,” the man murmured with what sounded like delight, “if you insist, I suppose I could take along a sack lunch on my way out.”

Only then did Flick notice the fox-figure’s tail. No… no, one of its tails. It had several, all tucked behind it in the cage. But one of them had pushed its way out of the cage, grabbed the pocket knife she had dropped, and was working it through the lock.

The shark-toothed man had noticed that at the same time, already rushing that way even as more gunshots from upstairs filled the air. “Oh no you don’t, dessert!”

Finally managing to make herself move, Flick lunged to her feet, shouting, “Hey!” Why exactly she shouted that, or what she expected to do, the girl couldn’t say. But the word came out anyway, drawing the shark-man’s attention briefly. Just enough that the figure in the cage managed to get the door open and throw himself out of it.

“I said!” The shark-man bellowed those words while hurling himself the remaining distance to the cage, catching hold of the fox-figure by the back of the head. “No you don’t!” With that, he hurled the fur-covered form straight at Flick. The girl only had time for her eyes to widen slightly, before the fox-figure crashed into her. They went down together, Flick landing hard on her back with the fox-man on top of her.

Now she was seeing him up close. They were face to face, and Flick had time to see just how real the fox-man was. It wasn’t a mask. It wasn’t fake. She could smell his breath, could see the panic in his eyes. His very real, very terrified eyes. He was real. It… it… this…

This was real.

The fox-man opened his mouth. She saw his teeth. Not as terrifying as the other man’s, but still. They were all sharp, all dangerous. Seeing them, she recoiled with a cry.

It was a cry that died in her throat, as a pair of hands caught hold of the fox-figure’s head and shoulder. With a roar that filled the room, the shark-man literally tore the other man’s head away, leaving a stump behind. A stump which fell limp against Flick, spilling blood all over her shirt, her face, her mouth. She tasted it. She could taste the man’s blood. His head had been torn from his shoulders, before his body was left to fall back onto her to spill the… the blood. All that blood.

She didn’t scream. She couldn’t. Laying on her back, with that body on top of her, Flick’s brain shut down for a moment. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t move. All she could do was lay there. Lay there with her face covered by blood. A low, keening sound in the back of her throat filled the air, like a balloon having its air let out.

“Oh well,” the shark-man was saying, “guess I’ll just take this one.” He reached down, his hand starting to grab Flick by the hair as her keening sound turned to a real scream. She flailed wildly, her fist colliding with the side of his face hard enough to snap his head to the side and knock him off her.

“Oof. Well hey, little girl’s got some spunk after all.” Rubbing his jaw, the man snarled while starting to reach out for her once more. “Let’s see how much.”

In that instant, the sound of another gunshot filled the air, just before the shark-figure recoiled with a grunt of pain as something hit the side of his head. Except that something seemed to come from nowhere. It was a bullet, but it came from the upper left corner of the room where literally nothing was.

Between magically appearing bullets, decapitated fox-people, a man with shark teeth, and… and everything else, Flick was completely done with all of this. She scrambled back to her feet before the large man could recover and took off running back the way she had come. Behind her, she heard the man bellow in annoyance before he gave a sharp grunt as though throwing something. Just before she reached the doorway out of this cement room, Flick found herself leaping up. Her feet left the ground, legs tucking up under herself as she made it a solid six feet into the air, head nearly crashing into the ceiling. Beneath her, the girl saw the heavy cage go tumbling past to crash into the doorway, blocking it.

Landing on top of the cage in a crouch, she stared in shock at the man. Her mind was racing so fast she thought it might spin its way right out of her head. How? How did she jump so high? How did she know exactly when to do it? How was she--how--how?

Unfortunately, there was no time for her to focus on that, as the shark-man was already barreling her way with a snarled, “You’re coming with me, Snack!”

No, no, no, he was going to kill her, just like that fox-guy. He was right there, his form too big to escape, his grasping hands reaching! Just before he would have crashed into the cage and grabbed her, the rush of panic filling Flick’s mind seemed to crystalize, and she fell through the cage.

No. No, she fell, but she didn’t fall into the cage itself. Just as the feeling of a roller coaster starting to go down a steep drop filled her, Flick found herself sprawling out on the floor of the hallway behind the cage.

Wait, wait, what? The cage was blocking the entire doorway. It was still there. How could she possibly have passed through it to get to the side? It didn't make sense. It didn't make any sense!

There was no time to focus on that, however, as the cage was suddenly ripped out of the way and tossed aside by the shark-man, who started after her once more.

In a single motion, Flick lunged back to her feet, pivoted, and ran away. Only after she was already running did she realize that she had thrust herself back to her feet with one hand. Her palm had hit the floor and pushed to send her body upwards, and then she had somehow expertly twisted in mid-air to plant her feet and start running. All in a single, smooth motion that didn’t even--she didn’t even do gymnastics or anything, how was this possible?! It couldn’t just be adrenaline. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t… it wasn’t… how?!

Only when she saw the closed door ahead of her did the girl remember that there was no way out of here. Which only made the panic filling her body even worse. Yet she kept moving. What else was she supposed to do, let the monster behind grab hold of her? She ran for the door, praying that she could slam her way through it. Just hit hard enough. Just push hard and get through. She could do it, she could get through it! Right before hitting the door, Flick tucked her shoulder, braced herself, and let out a scream while throwing herself at the thing.

She was in open air, a yelp escaping her as she sprawled out once more across the pavement. Confused, the blonde girl rolled over and looked back the way she had come. The door was there, still solid and intact. Yet she was past it. She had just… just… gone through the door? How was--

With a loud crash, the door was thrown off its hinges and sent flying at her. Without even thinking about it, Flick thrust herself into the air, twisting around as the crumpled door passed under her. One hand snapped out to push off it and right herself before she landed on the door itself and let it carry her a good fifteen feet down the narrow alleyway before it crashed to the ground and slid. Still, she rode it along the ground, sparks flying.

No, no, no, that was impossible. This was impossible. A heavy metal door had been thrown through the air, and somehow she flipped up off the ground from a prone position, used her hand against the door to right herself and land on it, then rode the thing clear down the alley before it crashed once more?!

“Impressive, kid,” the shark-man was saying as he stalked that way. “I like it when my dinner gives me a workout.”

“Time to go on a diet, Fahsteth.” A new voice spoke up, as a tall, blonde woman appeared beside Flick. She wore a pitch-black suit with a matching dark shirt, red tie and gloves, and held a sword with the tip pointed that way. “You’re not touching this one.”

“Dare,” the shark-man snarled. “Should’ve known you’d be the one fucking up the good thing I had going on here.”

“Hey!” A new voice snapped from behind the man, as three more figures came through the doorway there. Two were identical, brunette teenage girls. The other was a Latino boy. One of the twin girls held a long rifle with a scope on it, the other a mace. A real mace, not a little bottle with pepper-spray in it. The boy, meanwhile, was holding an actual minigun that looked almost as big as he was. All three kept their weapons pointed at the shark-man.

“What’re we,” the twin with the mace demanded, “chopped liver?”

Showing his teeth as he glanced over his shoulder while keeping one hand raised to point at the woman beside Flick, the shark-man snarled, “I got a taste for that girl now. You know this ain’t the end of it.”

“Is it ever?” the woman retorted flatly, sword still held that way.

With obvious annoyance, the shark-man abruptly spun toward the nearby wall. His hand rose to slap something against it. As he did so, a white light suddenly enveloped him, and he was gone. He just… vanished in a flash of light, like the Enterprise had suddenly beamed him up or something!

Abruptly jerking away from the woman, Flick put her back to the wall, wide eyes snapping in every direction to take these people in. “What--what--huh--huh?!”

“She bonded, Professor.” That was the Latino boy, stepping closer. On the way, he lowered the massive gun he was holding, dropping it to the ground where it… where it… transformed into a metal dog. Just like that. The gun shifted and flipped itself around until a freaking robot dog was standing there.

“With Fahsteth?” the woman snapped sharply.

“No,” the twin who had spoken before put in. “There was a Kitsune back there. From what we saw, a Journey Kitsune. She got a bunch of movement and travel powers. Teleported through a cage that was blocking her path. Phased through the door back there, that sort of thing.”

“What are you people talking about?!” Flick demanded, trying not to hyperventilate. “What the hell is going on? What--what was that thing? Did that guy really die? What--how?”

“Easy,” the woman gently murmured, stowing her sword at her hip before holding up both hands. “I know. You must have a lot of questions.

“Why don’t we start by introducing ourselves? My name is Virginia Dare.

“What’s yours?”