New hire
Elmore leaned against the metal doorframe, shotgun still in hand but lowered as he looked the man over. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice steady but firm.
The man straightened up, still catching his breath from the previous night’s chase. "Brent... Brent Cartwright. Used to breed dogs for a living, back before all this. Nothing fancy, just local stuff—hunting dogs mostly."
Elmore’s eyes narrowed as he continued. "And your powers? You already showed me one, but I’d like to know exactly what you’ve got under the hood."
Brent hesitated, but seeing the look on Elmore’s face, he realized this wasn’t the time to withhold information. "First one’s [K9 Transformation]. You saw that. Can turn parts of me into, well... a dog. Claws, teeth, fur—whole nine yards. Second one’s [Advanced Smell]. I can track things from miles away if I’ve got a scent. Pretty useful, I guess."
Elmore raised an eyebrow. "Stats?"
"Uh, not great. Still Level 1. Mostly agility, dexterity, and vitality. I can move fast, hit quick, and take a punch. But I’m not exactly a powerhouse."
Elmore nodded, taking that in. "And what do you want, Brent? What are you hoping to do now?"
Brent looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. "Honestly? I just wanna live in peace. Wasn’t well-liked in my town even before all this. After... well, now I’m a pariah. No friends, no family. I can’t go back."
Elmore sighed, staring out toward the brush where the sun was now fully risen. He knew that feeling—being cut off from everything, having no place to go. He glanced back at Brent. "Look, you can stay here. The shed’s not much, but it’s yours if you want it. It’s solid enough—metal walls, sturdy door. Only thing I ask is you grab some building supplies from the abandoned houses around here. Just be careful. People sometimes come back for their stuff, or looters hit 'em."
Brent’s eyes widened a bit at the offer, clearly not expecting such generosity. "You sure? I don’t wanna cause any trouble."
Elmore’s face hardened. "Here’s the deal. You stay the hell away from my family. Don’t bother my wife, my kid, my grandma, or my dad. We clear on that?"
Brent nodded immediately. "Crystal clear."
Elmore continued. "You can make yourself useful. Help with the gardens, the trees, maybe even come along on hunts. I could use an extra pair of hands, and with your abilities, you’ll pull your weight."
Just as Elmore finished speaking, both men felt a strange, sudden sensation. Their Nexus systems lit up, and the air between them seemed to hum with energy. A prompt appeared before both of their eyes, glowing faintly.
Do You wish to join a party.
Elmore blinked, staring at the words floating in front of him. Brent’s eyes widened, seeing the same thing. It wasn’t something either of them had encountered before.
Brent looked at Elmore, unsure. "A... party?"
Elmore let out a slow breath, piecing it together. "Looks like working together comes with its own perks. A Nexus party—like a team."
Brent stood there, still processing it all. "So... what now?"
Elmore smirked. "Now, you pull your weight. And don’t screw this up.”
Party
Elmore hesitated, staring at the glowing prompt in front of him: Do you wish to join a party.
Before accepting, he glanced at Brent, studying him more closely. He remembered reading some old declassified documents from the CIA and FBI that had been leaked a while back—manuals and training guides on body language, micro-expressions, and how to read a person like a book. It was a skill Elmore had never thought he’d need, but now, he realized how useful it could be.
Brent’s body language was telling. His posture was relaxed but not too comfortable, suggesting a man who was worn down but still alert. His eyes darted nervously but stayed focused on Elmore’s reactions, showing a level of anxiety that felt genuine. He wasn’t hiding his fear or his exhaustion. His hands were in plain sight, slightly trembling, but not fidgeting in a deceptive way—no signs of lying or manipulation.
Elmore noted how Brent had answered each of his questions directly, without too much hesitation, and his story had remained consistent. He wasn’t overly defensive or aggressive, just desperate, like someone who had been on the run for too long.
Remembering back to one of the old training videos, Elmore recalled how agents were trained to spot liars—people who couldn’t maintain eye contact, whose stories shifted subtly or seemed too rehearsed. Brent didn’t fit those molds. He seemed too tired, too beaten down to be crafting some elaborate lie.
His gaze moved to Brent’s injuries, the small puncture marks still healing on his skin, almost at an unnatural rate. That level of vulnerability wasn’t something you faked easily, especially not while cornered.
With a sigh, Elmore nodded slightly to himself. The man had been honest so far. Desperate, sure. But honest.
"Alright," Elmore finally said, his voice steady as he looked back at Brent. "You’ve been straight with me so far. You’ve told the truth. I’ll accept the party invite."
With that, Elmore reached out mentally, accepting the glowing prompt hanging in front of him. The words blinked, then faded, and a sudden, subtle connection seemed to form between the two men.
Brent exhaled, looking relieved but still cautious. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I won’t let you down."
Elmore just gave a short nod, turning back toward the door. "Don’t make me regret this," he said over his shoulder, walking out into the morning light. "We’ve got work to do.”
Settling in
Elmore stood in the small kitchen of his father’s house, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. Ash sat at the table with Edward in her lap, while his father was busy tinkering with some old engine part at the far end of the room. The air was thick with anticipation, and Brent stood awkwardly in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other, nervous but keeping a polite, composed demeanor.
“So,” Elmore started, looking at Ash and his father. “This is Brent. I met him a few days ago when he came out of the woods. Said he was running from some folks after using his powers in a bar fight.”
Ash raised an eyebrow, holding Edward a little closer. “And you just… hired him?”
Elmore nodded, glancing at Brent, then back at his family. “Yeah. Figured he could help out around the place—gardening, maintenance, maybe some hunting when he’s ready. He’s got a place to stay, too, over in the old metal playhouse shed.”
Brent cleared his throat, his voice a little shaky but polite. “I’m really grateful for the opportunity. I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I just… I want to lay low and be useful. I’m not looking for trouble.”
Elmore’s father finally looked up from the engine part he’d been tinkering with. “Metal shed, huh? Ain’t much, but it’ll do. You stay out of trouble, and we’ll be alright. Elmore’s a good judge of character, but don’t think we won’t be watching.”
Brent nodded quickly, his hands clasped in front of him. “Understood, sir. I appreciate the chance.”
Ash, though still wary, relaxed a little, trusting Elmore’s judgment. She gave Brent a small nod. “Just keep your distance from the house. You need something, talk to Elmore. We’ve got enough on our plates with everything going on.”
Over the next month, Brent settled into his new life. The 10x10 metal shed was small, but it became home. With Elmore’s help, he scavenged the abandoned homes in the valley, collecting an old bed, some worn furniture, clothes, and other essentials. He even found a large water drum in someone's backyard that he set up outside the shed for showers and water.
Elmore was there to help with the more complicated stuff. He ran an extension cord out to the shed, giving Brent a small breaker box for power. It wasn’t much, but it meant he could run a light, charge a phone, and power an old hot plate he found.
The arrangement worked well. Brent kept to himself, working hard around the property. He tended the gardens, helped fix up fences, and learned quickly under Elmore’s guidance. The two didn’t talk much, but there was an unspoken respect between them.
Each day passed quietly, with Brent gradually growing more comfortable in his surroundings. He worked hard and kept his distance from the main house, just as Elmore had instructed. There were moments of conversation—small things about hunting, life before everything went to hell, and the occasional joke about Brent’s strange “werewolf” abilities.
But the peaceful routine couldn’t last forever.
One evening, Elmore approached Brent at the shed. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard. Brent was sitting on an old crate outside, wiping dirt from his hands after a long day.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Tomorrow’s the day,” Elmore said, leaning against the doorframe.
Brent looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Hunting,” Elmore clarified. “You’ve had time to settle in, get used to the place. But tomorrow, we’re going hunting. You’ve got to wake up before dawn. I’ll be here at 5:00 a.m., but I want you up at 4:30. Here—” Elmore handed Brent a small battery-powered alarm clock. “Set it for 4:30.”
Brent took the clock, nodding. “Got it. I’ll be ready.”
Elmore gave a brief nod before turning to leave. “Make sure you are,” he said, his voice firm.
New hunting party
Elmore stood in the small kitchen of his father’s house, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. Ash sat at the table with Edward in her lap, while his father was busy tinkering with some old engine part at the far end of the room. The air was thick with anticipation, and Brent stood awkwardly in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other, nervous but keeping a polite, composed demeanor.
“So,” Elmore started, looking at Ash and his father. “This is Brent. I met him a few days ago when he came out of the woods. Said he was running from some folks after using his powers in a bar fight.”
Ash raised an eyebrow, holding Edward a little closer. “And you just… hired him?”
Elmore nodded, glancing at Brent, then back at his family. “Yeah. Figured he could help out around the place—gardening, maintenance, maybe some hunting when he’s ready. He’s got a place to stay, too, over in the old metal playhouse shed.”
Brent cleared his throat, his voice a little shaky but polite. “I’m really grateful for the opportunity. I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I just… I want to lay low and be useful. I’m not looking for trouble.”
Elmore’s father finally looked up from the engine part he’d been tinkering with. “Metal shed, huh? Ain’t much, but it’ll do. You stay out of trouble, and we’ll be alright. Elmore’s a good judge of character, but don’t think we won’t be watching.”
Brent nodded quickly, his hands clasped in front of him. “Understood, sir. I appreciate the chance.”
Ash, though still wary, relaxed a little, trusting Elmore’s judgment. She gave Brent a small nod. “Just keep your distance from the house. You need something, talk to Elmore. We’ve got enough on our plates with everything going on.”
Over the next month, Brent settled into his new life. The 10x10 metal shed was small, but it became home. With Elmore’s help, he scavenged the abandoned homes in the valley, collecting an old bed, some worn furniture, clothes, and other essentials. He even found a large water drum in someone's backyard that he set up outside the shed for showers and water.
Elmore was there to help with the more complicated stuff. He ran an extension cord out to the shed, giving Brent a small breaker box for power. It wasn’t much, but it meant he could run a light, charge a phone, and power an old hot plate he found.
The arrangement worked well. Brent kept to himself, working hard around the property. He tended the gardens, helped fix up fences, and learned quickly under Elmore’s guidance. The two didn’t talk much, but there was an unspoken respect between them.
Each day passed quietly, with Brent gradually growing more comfortable in his surroundings. He worked hard and kept his distance from the main house, just as Elmore had instructed. There were moments of conversation—small things about hunting, life before everything went to hell, and the occasional joke about Brent’s strange “werewolf” abilities.
But the peaceful routine couldn’t last forever.
One evening, Elmore approached Brent at the shed. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard. Brent was sitting on an old crate outside, wiping dirt from his hands after a long day.
“Tomorrow’s the day,” Elmore said, leaning against the doorframe.
Brent looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Hunting,” Elmore clarified. “You’ve had time to settle in, get used to the place. But tomorrow, we’re going hunting. You’ve got to wake up before dawn. I’ll be here at 5:00 a.m., but I want you up at 4:30. Here—” Elmore handed Brent a small battery-powered alarm clock. “Set it for 4:30.”
Brent took the clock, nodding. “Got it. I’ll be ready.”
Elmore gave a brief nod before turning to leave. “Make sure you are,” he said, his voice firm.
Hunting progress
Elmore went about his usual hunting routine, gathering his gear with a calm focus. The early morning chill clung to the air as he strapped his hatchet to his thigh, strapped his knife to his chest, checked his shotgun, and slung it across his back. It was just before dawn, and the forest was still cloaked in darkness. He knew these woods like the back of his hand, but today, it wouldn’t just be him.
When Elmore stepped outside, he found Brett waiting. The man wore a basic wife-beater shirt and a pair of shorts, his feet completely bare on the cold ground. Elmore raised an eyebrow.
"Going barefoot?" Elmore asked.
Brett nodded, shifting slightly on his feet. "Helps with the transformation. I don’t fully turn into a wolf, but this way, I can move faster without shoes holding me back. Clothes get in the way too."
Elmore silently took it in, then handed Brett a hunting knife. "I don’t have a second gun for you. This’ll have to do if your claws and fangs don’t get the job done."
Brett gave a toothy grin. "Don’t worry, the claws should be enough. But I’ll take the knife for backup."
With a nod, they set off into the wilderness. Elmore led the way through the dense underbrush, the sky still a deep purple as the sun began to rise. They moved in silence, each step calculated to avoid making noise. After about a mile, Brett tapped Elmore on the shoulder and gestured that it was time.
Elmore stepped back, giving Brett space as he prepared to transform. Brett hunched over slightly, his breath coming in shallow gasps as his body began to change. Elmore watched with keen interest as hair started sprouting over Brett’s arms and chest, rapidly thickening into a dark, coarse fur. His jaw elongated, reshaping into a wolf-like snout, his teeth sharpening into visible fangs. His nails extended, turning into blackened claws, long and lethal. The most unnerving change, though, was the way his legs bent, his feet lifting so he stood on the balls of his feet, almost like a dog. Even the pads of his toes shifted, gaining a rough, calloused texture, as claws sprouted from the tips.
Brett looked like something out of a horror story—lithe, fast, and undeniably dangerous. His transformation wasn’t as bulky or grotesque as some depictions of werewolves, but instead lean and agile, designed for speed and precision rather than brute force. Elmore could see the power coiled in the wiry muscles of Brett’s body, and oddly, he wasn’t afraid. He’d seen Ash use her [Silver Tongue] ability, felt the glow of Aither when she activated it. But this… this was different. As Brett stood fully transformed, Elmore noticed the familiar glow of Aither covering his body, but this time, he could see it in far greater detail. It was like watching energy flow through the man’s veins, enhancing every aspect of his new form.
Brett’s glowing eyes met Elmore’s, and for a moment, there was an unspoken understanding between them. Elmore gave a silent nod, and Brett’s ears twitched in response, his heightened senses fully alert. The hunt was on.
They moved through the forest like shadows, Brett’s transformed body barely making a sound as he sniffed the air, using his heightened sense of smell to track their quarry. Elmore followed close behind, his shotgun at the ready. The woods felt different today—tense, alive with the sense of something lurking just out of sight.
Camocat
Elmore and Brett walked silently through the woods, their steps careful as they made their way up the steep mountain paths. Small streams trickled by their feet, the gurgling water a stark contrast to the tension hanging in the air. They were on the hunt, and while the woods seemed calm, there was always an undercurrent of danger in these parts.
As they rounded a bend, Elmore noticed a large feline paw print embedded in the soft ground. He crouched down, brushing his fingers over the dirt, eyes narrowing.
Brett, already transformed, leaned down and sniffed the print. "Mountain lion," he growled, his voice rough, almost guttural in his wolf-like state. His heightened senses were already at work, picking up the trail.
Elmore loaded his shotgun, the sound of the shells clicking into place seemed louder in the quiet forest. "Lead the way, then. Stay sharp."
They tracked the creature for a while, following the trail deeper into the woods. The path twisted and turned, eventually doubling back on itself. As they walked in what felt like circles, Elmore’s instincts kicked in. His pulse quickened, and his mind, now honed by his increased intelligence, pieced the situation together.
“Wait,” he said, halting Brett with a firm hand on his shoulder. “We’re being tracked.”
Brett sniffed the air again and nodded, his ears twitching. “You’re right. It’s circling us.”
Without a word, they moved back to back, scanning the forest around them, their senses straining for any sign of movement. The underbrush was still, the shadows long as the morning sun broke through the trees, but the silence felt wrong. Elmore’s grip tightened on his shotgun, his heart pounding in his chest as the realization settled in—the predator was hunting them.
They stood like that for what felt like hours, their bodies tense, until suddenly, seemingly out of thin air, the mountain lion materialized. It wasn’t a gradual reveal; one moment there was nothing, and the next, the enormous beast was mid-leap, its claws extended, aiming for Brett’s throat.
Elmore’s eyes caught the faint glow of Aither just as the lion shifted back into vision, the telltale shimmer of its ability. In a split second, Elmore reacted, swinging his shotgun sideways and catching the creature in the head with the stock. The impact was enough to knock it off course, the beast’s trajectory shifting as it slammed into the ground, snarling in fury. Brett immediately lunged forward, his claws slashing through the air, and though the lion vanished again, Brett’s hand came back smeared with blood.
They both cursed under their breath as the realization hit them.
“This thing can go invisible,” Brett growled, his voice strained with frustration. "Or it's so camouflaged we can’t even see it."
Elmore’s mind raced, his eyes scanning the area. “It’s not just hiding—it's hunting smart. We need to be smarter.”
The forest around them seemed to close in, and the air grew thick with the tension of the hunt. Somewhere, the invisible predator was lurking, waiting for the right moment to strike again. They had to be ready.
Elmore’s mind raced as he remembered the nearby cave—a shallow one, but just enough for them to limit the direction the beast could attack from. “There’s a cave nearby,” he said, urgency in his voice. “If we can make it there, we’ll know where it’s coming from.”
Brett nodded, his claws still extended, scanning the surroundings as he sniffed the air. “Lead the way, but be ready. It’s still out there.”
They moved as quickly and quietly as they could, the mountain lion stalking them all the while. Every few minutes, Brett would sniff the air, his ears twitching, and he’d growl, “It’s close.” Each time, Elmore would brace, shotgun raised. The beast would leap from the shadows, but now that Brett could smell it coming, they were ready, dodging its attacks or fending it off just long enough to keep moving.
After what felt like hours but was only tens of minutes, they reached the cave—a shallow divot in the rock, just deep enough to protect their backs. The moment they entered, they realized their mistake. Bones littered the ground, rotting meat piled in corners. The stench of decay filled the air, heavy and foul.
“This is its den,” Brett growled, his eyes scanning the cave. “It smells like the beast everywhere. I can’t track it in here. Everything smells like it.”
They pressed their backs against the wall, weapons at the ready, eyes straining in the dim light. There was no telling where the creature would come from next. They didn’t have long to wait. The mountain lion lunged at them from the shadows, Brett swiping at it with his claws while Elmore fired a shot. The blast echoed in the cave, and the beast recoiled, snarling in pain.
Elmore counted his remaining shells—only one left. Birdshot. Not the best for a creature this size, but it was all he had. They needed a plan.
“Brett,” Elmore said, breathing heavily, “I’ve got one shot left. It’s risky, but it might work.”
Brett, blood dripping from deep wounds where the beast had caught him earlier, nodded. “What’s the plan?”
“I’ll need you to stand out in the open. When it jumps at you, leap back toward me, and I’ll hit it with the last shell. It should disorient it long enough for you to pin it down.”
Brett grimaced but nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it.”
They moved into position, Brett standing out in the center of the cave, his claws flexing as he scanned the shadows. Elmore crouched behind, shotgun aimed and ready. Time seemed to stretch as they waited, tense and silent.
Suddenly, the lion’s Aither glow flickered, revealing its form as it pounced at Brett, claws extended. Brett moved just in time, jumping backward toward Elmore, but not before the beast raked its claws down his back, drawing blood.
Elmore didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger, the birdshot exploding into the lion’s face. The beast howled, momentarily disoriented, its form flickering as it struggled to regain control of its ability.
Brett, despite the pain, leapt onto the beast’s back, his claws sinking into its neck. Elmore, still holding his shotgun, tossed it aside and grabbed the axe strapped to his belt. As the lion thrashed, trying to regain its senses, Elmore rammed the axe handle into its mouth, preventing it from biting down on Brett. The creature thrashed and struggled, its strength immense, but together, they fought it down, claw and blade meeting flesh. Elmore using all his might to keep in in place, basically putting it's snout in a headlock with the axe in between its teeth.
Finally, after a brutal struggle, the mountain lion collapsed, blood pooling beneath it. Its body twitched, and then stilled.
Both men slumped to the ground, breathless and covered in dirt and blood. As they sat there, a strange warmth filled their chests, spreading through their bodies—the feeling of something new, something powerful. Both Elmore and Brett felt it, the unmistakable sensation of their Nexus reacting to the victory.
“Guess that’s it,” Brett panted, wiping blood from his claws.
Elmore nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. “Yeah... that’s it.”
Spoils of war
After the brutal fight, Elmore and Brett wasted no time. They dragged the mountain lion’s body back home, adrenaline still coursing through their veins. Cleaning the beast was a messy job, but as they worked, they made a strange discovery: the only real wounds on the creature were the deep gouges from Brett's claws. None of Elmore’s shotgun slugs or birdshot had pierced its fur, as if the beast’s hide had some supernatural resistance.
"Looks like it shrugged off everything except your claws," Elmore said, wiping the sweat from his forehead as they skinned the animal.
Brett grunted, still exhausted from the fight. "Good thing you gave me that opening. This thing was tougher than anything I’ve ever come across."
They packed the meat, knowing the grocery store in town would buy it. Brett had expressed his surprise at the idea—Elmore making a profit off something they had to fight for their lives against—but in the end, they both knew it was practical. After delivering the fresh meat, they turned their attention to curing the hide and fur. The skin was thick and tough, but Elmore knew the value of a well-cured pelt. Over the next few days, they worked carefully, curing the hide and turning it into a high-quality fur that would make an excellent material for future use.
Weeks passed as they continued to hunt, not encountering anything as big or dangerous as the mountain lion, but finding their fair share of strange creatures. Odd, twisted versions of familiar animals. Deer with elongated antlers that glowed faintly in the moonlight. Rabbits with oddly sharp teeth. They avoided the bears—especially after their first encounter with one—but the more they hunted, the more they learned. Each creature they brought down seemed to carry some faint trace of the Aither.
Despite the success, there was always the lingering thought of that mountain lion. Elmore couldn’t shake the memory of its resilience. When the lion's pelt was finally cured and ready, he sat down at his workbench one day, looking at the thick, fur-lined hide. The rich brown and black stripes still gleamed in the dim light of the shed.
Elmore ran his hand across the pelt, thinking. He had read about how to deal with leather before, but this was something else. The mountain lion’s skin had a texture and toughness he hadn’t encountered before, likely due to the Aither’s influence on the creature. It felt wrong to just leave it sitting there. He could make something practical from it.
His mind raced with possibilities. A belt? Armor? Something he could wear into the wilderness to protect himself and Brett. Elmore realized he could craft a hunting vest or even a sturdy pair of gloves—something that could give them an edge when they encountered another creature like that.
As he mulled it over, the idea of a protective vest started to take shape in his mind. Not only would it be lightweight and durable, but it might even carry some of the resilience the beast had shown during the fight. He stood from his workbench, determination setting in.
“Guess it’s time to make something out of this,” Elmore muttered to himself, envisioning the final product. A vest that would help him the next time something unnatural came prowling from the woods.