“Jennifer, where do monsters come from, anyway?”

Jacob was driving towards the Sleeping Cat, the wolf seated in the back of the van. Traffic had slowed to a crawl with the morning rush, and Jacob was bored.

“Is this a work-related matter?” Fenway asked over the interface call. “If not, I ask you to consult someone else. Also, don’t call me Jennifer. Ms. Fenway is fine.”

“Why? You find that kind of thing unprofessional?”

“No, I just don’t like you. Hearing you say my name makes me uncomfortable.”

“That’s quite harsh.”

“I don’t see any reason to lie.”

“So where do monsters come from?”

There was a long silence. “Mr. Sorenson, you’re familiar with the System, yes?”

“Mmhmm. I do have a semi-functioning brain.”

“Do you know where the System comes from?”

“The AI made it back in like… 2045?”

“No, I mean, what’s the System made out of?”

“It’s made out of computer code and stuff. What else would it be?”

“That’s only partially correct. The System is equal parts science and mysticism. People think machines and magic don’t mix, but that’s not true. Have you heard of Pattern theory?”

“I haven’t. Is this a lecture? I just wanted to hear about monsters.”

“We’re getting to that. Pattern theory is the thaumaturgical concept of the universe’s primordial source. A Pattern woven throughout all space and time, with its source at the conception of all things—the Big Bang, you might call it. The Pattern informs existence, pulls objects together or repels them from each other. An infinite set of symbols written on a blank void. But the Pattern can be further distilled by sentient will into its constituent halves—Law and Chaos. These affect existence in the obvious ways you might imagine based on their names. Our System, Earth’s system, is a derivate of Law. It brings order.”

“Okay?”

“And when one force rises, its opposite will rise to meet it. The brighter the light, the blacker the shadow.”

“So you’re saying that monsters are born from this Chaos stuff?”

“‘Monster’ is an informal collection term for all manner of phenomena, but usually, yes.”

“And Chaos is evil?”

“No. Nor is Law good. Both are equally vital for the maintenance of the universe. Law is usually more convenient for humans, that’s all.”

The congestion finally eased up a bit and Jacob was able to divert onto some less-trafficked side streets to get out of the Blue District, entering Yellow.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” Jacob said, “this kinda sounds like hippie stuff.”

“Feel free to think whatever you like, Mr. Sorenson.”

“If it’s not, why wasn’t I taught it in school?”

“Pattern theory is considered sensitive information by the UEC. Not many are let in on the details.”

“I’m honored, then. After all that talk about not liking me, too.”

“As a prospective associate of the Heroes’ Guild, you have a right to certain information in order to better fulfill your duties. You were going to be told all this, and plenty more, sooner or later. You didn’t think that Hero Basics was the beginning and end of your learning, did you?”

“Well, you know…” He cleared his throat, looked at the wolf through the rearview mirror. “With everything you’ve told me, what do you think about the farmer’s theory of possession?”

“Not likely. It was probably a normal wolf once, mutated by an unfortunate touch of Chaos energy.”

“Do you have a degree in this or something? You sound like you know a lot about it.”

Fenway sighed. “I have several degrees, Mr. Sorenson. Sadly, my talents are grossly underappreciated by this organization.”

She hung up.

Someone’s a little cranky.

How did she ever get together with Sonny? They must have driven each other mad.

Jacob called Becca about a hundred times before she finally picked up, groggy and incoherent.

“Whaaat?” she whined. “I was having such a nice dream.”

“Get your butt down to the Sleeping Cat. I want you to meet someone.”

“Wha…? Meet who? Dude, it’s too early…”

“You know how you wanted me to kill a big bad wolf for you?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I got you a puppy instead. Forgive me?”

The sleep was gone from Becca’s voice in an instant. “A PUPPY? FOR ME?”

“Maybe more like a workplace puppy, but yeah. He’s very cute. A bit, uh, big. And slightly murderous. But other than that he’s lovely. I’m gonna need help coming up with a name.”

The sleep was gone from her voice in an instant. “I’m coming down! I’m—oh shit, that’s inside out—I’m coming!”

There was loud scuffling as she banged about the apartment before the call abruptly cut out.

Jacob chuckled. He’d anticipated that kind of reaction.

*****

Her reaction to seeing him in person didn’t disappoint either.

Everyone was in the bar when Jacob came in—everyone except the washed-up S-Rank. The place wouldn’t be open for business for many hours yet, so it was just them.

He held the wolf back by his chain leash so he wouldn’t go all over the place. Becca clapped her hands with excitement, and Bob joined in just to feel included. Becca came right up to the great beast—whose head was at her shoulders—and showed no fear. She went in for a big hug, burying her face in his fur. The wolf looked questioningly back at Jacob, but when he got no reaction he reluctantly allowed the hug to happen.

He sniffed Becca’s clothes and nipped at her hair, drawing a giggle from her. Then, when she finally pulled away, blowing stray wolf hairs off her face, he gave her a small lick on the cheek.

“He likes me!”

“I think he does,” Jacob said. “He’s a bit hit or miss with most people.”

She soon had him on his back and picked at him with tweezers to dislodge ticks and other biting insects that had made a home out of him. “He smells. He’s going to need a bath.”

“Maybe once he’s more used to people. I don’t know how he’d take it right now.”

Once she was done with her procedure she had a sheet of kitchen paper all covered in squished bugs. He rolled over on his side and she scratched him behind his ears and on his belly until his eyes fell shut and he started letting out long, contented groans.

The petting session was interrupted when Bob came over to try and join in. The wolf caught him by one skinny metal ankle and pulled him to the floor, dragging him into a corner where he began to gnaw on his limbs, unreceptive to the robot’s polite protests.

Jacob had a good chuckle at Bob’s misfortune. He saw no reason to break them up straight away.

“What’s with the glasses?” Mr. Beau asked, halfway through a bowl of cereal by the bar. “You look like you fell through a pro wrestler’s wardrobe.”

“I think he looks very handsome,” Becca said. She came over to Jacob and tugged on his trench coat to straighten it out.

Jacob ruffled her unbrushed blonde mop of hair as thanks. “The glasses are a temporary safety precaution,” he explained. “I leveled up in the process of dealing with our new friend there. Got my aspect. Something about ‘seeing the truth beyond death’. I’ll explain it better when I know more, but basically it’s not a good idea to look me directly in the eye for a while. Scares the piss out of people.”

Becca immediately reached for the glasses to take them off, and he slapped her hand away. “I’m serious, Becca. Don’t.”

“Why?”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Because I said so. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

She stood away, arms crossed. “Whatever. You’re giving me a detailed report later, mister. I want to know everything.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

There were some strange sounds from upstairs, like banging on the walls and several long, sobbing wails.

“Do we need to call an exorcist?” Jacob asked.

“Nah, that’s just Sonny,” Mr. Beau said, waving his spoon dismissively. “He’s locked himself in one of the rooms upstairs. Quitting the booze, he says. Going cold turkey. As you can hear, sobriety isn’t agreeing with him. What he really needs is a hospital, but he threatens to shoot me whenever I bring it up, so I just leave him be. I’ll check on him in a bit, give him some soup if he doesn’t knock it all over the fucking floor like last time.”

“I see. I can only commend the effort, I guess. Thought he was married to the bottle for life.”

“Give him time. He’s got a whole life to relapse.”

Jacob ignored all subsequent thumping and screaming.

Although the sight of the robot getting handled like a ragdoll amused him, Jacob eventually went over after a while to get the wolf off of him. Verbal commands had no effect, but the wolf allowed him to pry his jaws open and drag him away. Bot had only sustained superficial damage, at least after twisting his leg back into place.

Jacob had the wolf sit in the middle of the floor where he was on full display for everyone. “Now then, let’s get some names going. We’ll find the bastard something that fits.”

Becca bent down and took the wolf’s face in her hands, smushing his jowls. “I think he looks like a… Happy! Do you like that, boy? Is your name Happy?” She shook his head around and gave his nose a kiss.

The wolf threw a concerned glance in Jacob’s direction.

“I don’t know if he likes that,” Jacob said with a chuckle, “but why don’t you go ahead and write it down, Becca? You are the self-proclaimed assistant, after all, so get assisting.”

“Roger!” Becca bounced over and sat on the bartop, bringing up a notepad on her interface. Mr. Beau immediately shooed her off, and she moved down to one of the barstools. “Okay, Happy is suggestion number one. More ideas?”

“Maybe Mischief?” Jacob suggested.

“Okay, Mischief is number two.”

Mr. Beau had finished off his cereal and lit up a cigarette. “What about Dirge?”

“Dirge,” Bob repeated, getting back to his feet after his thorough thrashing. “A lament for the dead, especially one forming part of a funeral rite. Thematically appropriate.”

“That’s not bad at all,” Jacob agreed.

Becca wrote it down. “Number three, Dirge.”

“May I make more than one suggestion?” Bob asked, a hand in the air like a well-behaved schoolboy. “I have conducted some research online over the course of this conversation.

Jacob nodded. “Shoot.”

“In norse mythology, the god Odin has two wolf companions.”

“I thought it was ravens,” Mr. Beau said through an exhalation of smoke.

“Two ravens and two wolves. And a horse.”

“An eight-legged horse,” Jacob added. “If only I could get me one of those.”

“Regardless, it would be thematically appropriate,” Bob continued. “Odin was also a ‘hanged man’. He was said to have hanged himself from the World Tree to gain knowledge about death and runic sorcery. He is also sometimes depicted on the twelfth Major Arcana tarot card, The Hanged Man.”

“All right. Not bad, tin man. Keep comparing me to gods and I might start liking you better. What are these wolves called, then?”

“Geri and Freki. Geri meaning ‘greedy’, ‘gluttonous’, ‘ravenous’. Freki similarly meaning ‘greedy’, ‘desirous’, ‘audacious’.”

“Oof. The symbology is there, sure—he is a greedy little guy—but those names are just awful, Bob. I don’t think we can go with either of those.”

“Understood. I have another one.”

“Go ahead.”

“In norse mythology, there are several other named wolves. One of them is Fenrir, or the Fenris wolf. Chained by the norse gods because they feared his size and strength, he was prophesized to break free at the end of days and kill Odin, only to be killed in turn by Odin’s son.”

“Fenris, I like that. Our boy already has the costume down, too.”

Mr. Beau pursed his lips. “Yeah, but if Odin is the hanged man in this metaphor, and Fenris is the one who kills him, that doesn’t really go together, does it?”

“He did technically kill me already,” Jacob said. “Yeah, I uh… died last night. We came to terms after that.”

“So it’s like you thought after all?” Becca asked, eyes gone big. “You’re immortal?”

“Seems that way. Or at least it seems like it’s hard to keep me down. I was warned to beware the effects of dying, but I haven’t noticed anything yet. I feel just fine.”

“Lucky fucker,” Mr. Beau muttered into his cigarette.

“At least you don’t have to look like a drowning victim, be glad for that. Actually, I take that back. My condolences.”

“Fuck you.”

“Love you too, boss.”

“All right, here is what I’ve written down,” Becca announced in a proper and formal tone somewhat reminiscent of Fenway. “Number one: Happy. Number two: Mischief. Number three: Dirge. And number four: Fenris. What do we think? I still think he looks like a Happy.”

“I reckon I’ll make the final decision, since I found him and all,” Jacob said. “I like Fenris. Let’s go with that.”

And so, the wolf was named Fenris.

Jacob brought him back to the apartment and Becca helped him prepare the place for canine habitation. No dog bed would be big enough for him, so they just let him have Jacob’s old bed to himself, since Jacob usually slept in Becca’s room these days anyway. They tried out various foods to give him, but he was mostly interested in meat, so they went out and bought a load of it. Half their freezer was now dedicated to Fenris.

He told Becca what he knew about the Aspect of Truth, and she tried again to take his sunglasses off. She pouted when he wouldn’t let her.

“I can handle it!” she insisted.

“No. It’s not safe.”

“So I’m just never gonna get to look you in the eyes again?”

Jacob chuckled. “You’re not missing much, though, are you? They look like dead fish eyes.”

She smacked him on the arm—not very hard. “Shut up! You have mysterious eyes. I like them.”

“Well, you’ll see them again when I figure out how to control the ability.”

She accepted that, albeit reluctantly. Jacob kept the sunglasses on all the time after that, and when he went to bed he wore a blindfold.

He took no assignments for the next week, spent his time getting the wolf under reasonable control and teaching him commands. He always got a lot of attention on walks, and Jacob managed to socialize him enough that he didn’t try to bite every stranger that tried to pet him, even though he only endured affection from anyone but a select few people with great discomfort. Becca was at the top of that list—he melted into her overbearing love like a puppy, and followed her around just as much as he did Jacob. Maybe he could tell they were mates, and extended his deference for Jacob to her. Or maybe he just liked cuddles, deep down.

He experimented with his new ability—which Becca had christened the Death Glare—while outside with Fenris. Smaller animals, like squirrels and birds, mostly died from stress shortly after they met his gaze. Luckily, whenever one fell dead from a tree the wolf was there to swallow the evidence whole.

Picking up his shit was the worst part, done with a shovel and a trash bag instead of itty bitty doggy bags. Jacob suddenly had sympathy for horse owners. The food bill was a close runner-up, but at least he had the flora to cover it now, with well over 10 000 in his account.

They did try to hose him down in the shower once. That had not ended well.

On the ninth day, Fenway called him while he was on the toilet. He pinched it off and picked up.

“I’ve got a job for you, Mr. Sorenson,” she said. “Are you somewhere private?”

“Uh, you might say that.”

“Good. This job is an important one.”

“An important one, you say. That mean it pays well?”

“Yes. It’s a joint assignment. I’ve already contacted the other members of your agency, and they have both agreed to take it on as well.”

“Both? You mean…?”

“Yes. Mr. Farraday will be working on this one. You may have heard that he stopped drinking.”

“He actually stuck to that?”

“So far. You’ll be assisting him on this assignment. And by that I mean babysitting. You’ll need his firepower, but it’s important that you keep him… on track.”

“Right. And why’s this one so important?”

“Sending you details now. I’ll explain after.”

[ASSIGNMENT: FALSE SMILES]

[DANGER RATING: STORM]

[OBJECTIVE 1: ASSIST ‘GOLDEN SON’ IN DESTROYING ‘GREEN MEADOWS’ ENEMY FACILITY]

[OBJECTIVE 2: ASSIST ‘GOLDEN SON’ IN NEUTRALIZING ENEMY COMBATANTS, DEAD OR ALIVE]

Optional: Capture two or more enemy combatants alive

[OBJECTIVE 3: ASSIST ‘GOLDEN SON’ IN RESCUING ADOLESCENT CAPTIVES]

[OBJECTIVE 4: ASSIST ‘GOLDEN SON’ IN RETRIEVING ON-SITE DATA FROM ‘GREEN MEADOWS’ ENEMY FACILITY]

[REWARDS: 30 000fl]

[OPTIONAL REWARDS: 10 000fl]

“That’s good money, all right,” Jacob said. “‘Assist’, what does that mean, exactly? Just try my hardest to be useful?”

“Yes.”

“And the System will be able to tell if I slack off and fail me, I’m guessing.”

“Correct.”

Jacob stood, pulled up his pants, and flushed the toilet, then began washing his hands.

“Are you in the bathroom?”

“Yeah. You called, so I picked up. Is that a problem?”

She sighed. “No. Whatever, let’s just move on. Green Meadows, have you heard of it?”

“Nope.”

“It’s a small town south of Arcadia. Or it’s meant to look like one. Green Meadows is in fact a front for the international villain organization known as the Red Right Hand. They’re growing children in tanks in the underground facility beneath the town, and torture and neglect them so that they will Snap. They then sell off the adolescent Users to other bad actors or brainwash them into the Red Right Hand’s own personal soldiers. Of course, the vast majority of them don’t Snap, and eventually die from the mistreatment.”

Jacob stopped moving, hands under the running tap, while he processed that information. Then he continued, washing off the soap and drying his hands on a towel. “That sounds intense. Why send us and not some big-shot hero like Starman?”

“Director Thatch believes that the Red Right Hand has spies inside the Lodge. That’s how they’ve been operating for years in the NE-HZ under our noses—the spies obscure their footprint, destroy data, tip off their network to hero presence.”

“So the director thinks if he runs this internally, the villains will get wind of it and scatter?”

“More or less. There is also some concern that one or more heroes are in on the take.”

“Damn. How come he trusts us, then?”

“If you were working for the Red Right Hand, you would try to insert yourselves as far into the Heroes’ Guild as you could, not keep yourselves removed from it. I believe that’s his rationale, at least.”

“Okay. And what about you? What makes you trustworthy?”

“Nothing in particular. I’m your liaison, so he took a gamble filling me in.”

“I see.” Jacob sat back down on the closed toilet lid. If this was meant to be some big secret, it was probably best if Becca didn’t hear about it. She was terrible at keeping secrets. “So when’s this all happening?”

“The day after tomorrow. You will pose as water inspectors in order to gain access to the town, then proceed to neutralize enemy combatants as directed. Expect to encounter enemy Users, specific number unknown. There will be no STF backup due to the flags such a mobilization would set off for the spies inside the Lodge. You’ll be on your own.”

“And the wolf?”

“Is it under control?”

“Yeah. He’s itching to kill something.”

“Very well. Director Thatch has authorized its use. Ensure that there is no collateral with the child captives.”

“Won’t be a problem.”

“Will you take the job?”

Jacob only thought about it for a second. “I’ve got more questions, but yeah, I’ll take it.”

“Good. Don’t fuck this up.”

[ASSIGNMENT ACCEPTED: FALSE SMILES]