Chapter 18

From Diary of Damien Slayer,

I found myself staring down the main street of the sleepy little Washington town that I hadn't seen in decades. The last time I was here, I had come to visit Avril on a secret, stealthy night. I hadn't dared to set foot in the town during that time - there was too much danger and too much heat on me. Oh, how times have changed. On this day, dressed in the fine disguise given to me by Razmik, with a new beard and honestly, so much older, I finally felt safe enough to take a chance and properly explore the town. Especially since I now have the tentative blessing of Sheriff Bill.

As I strolled down the street, I noticed with a mixture of nostalgia and melancholy how much had changed since I had last seen it. The diner, which had been a fixture of life for everyone here in my youth, was long gone, replaced with a franchise that just wasn't the same at all. I couldn't help but recall how the diner had suffered closure after that girl was killed there, many years ago on a stormy night. The few witnesses to the incident had described the assailant as something akin to Bigfoot. The memories are still chilling, even now.

A lot of the shops and houses had been rebuilt, and I noticed some modern housing developments during the bus ride into town. It was certainly larger now, with a supermarket on the outskirts and even office buildings dotting the main street. However, amidst all the changes, the church remained just the same as ever, as though it were preserved within a time capsule. It gave me a strange sense of comfort. Perhaps some things, even in this world in flux, could be counted on to remain constant.

Even as I walked, I felt as though I could sense him - the Prowler, that monstrous creature. There was no chance he was here now, and in fact, he probably hadn't returned during the intervening years. But I knew he had been here once, decades ago when he took those women and ended my precious Penny's life. Years later, he returned, killing again and again, claiming the life of that poor waitress and eventually visiting himself upon Avril. My hunger for revenge continues to grow, but for now, I remain patient and cool.

I saw Sheriff Bill standing down the street, waiting for me by his car. He had changed considerably since I last saw him - a man who had once maintained his physical condition, always seeming so alert, now slumped with a stiff posture, aged and fatter. There was more to his appearance than the simple passage of time; as I got closer, I could see the marks on his face that hinted at a new and extensive drinking habit, watery eyes, burst blood vessels, that slight glaze.

He eyed me warily, knowing now that I was not the killer the world believed me to be. Sheriff Bill had seen the Prowler on that fateful night, catching glimpses of the monstrous beast, and he now realized that my youthful ravings about a murdering, raping Bigfoot had not been mere fantasy. Still, he had spent most of his life dreaming of catching me, of killing me - as I approached him, I noticed his fingers still twitched ever so slightly, the temptation to reach for his gun.

I extended my hand as I reached him, and for a moment, he hesitated before finally shaking it. I could smell the stale booze on his breath. I wasn't sure if he had been drinking during the day while on duty, or if the odor came from the night before.

"Never thought I'd be seeing you again, shaking your hand," he said, trying to smile. "Always thought it'd end with me shooting at you."

"I never imagined walking down this street again either," I admitted, "certainly not talking to you face-to-face like this."

Bill sighed, remorse clouding his face. "We did you wrong, Damien. We all did. You had the truth all those years ago, and we wasted so much time."

"What were you supposed to believe though?" I replied. "That a real Bigfoot was out there, killing and raping? It's too much for the human mind to accept unless you've seen it yourself."

"And you did see it? Back then?" Bill asked, visibly shaken.

I nodded. "The night Penny died, I was there. The creature nearly killed me. It probably thought it did. But it took me a long time to figure things out, get myself together. I started running shortly after, branded a killer."

Bill's eyes filled with apology. "I know we did you wrong. But we can't dwell on that now. I'm willing to take a chance on you if you think you can do something for Avril."

"I hope to," I said, determination in my voice. "If nothing else, I hope to put an end to that monster."

Bill leaned on his car, seeming weak and woozy. He began to speak, "After the attack, when we found her, she wasn't there. Her mind was gone. The things she'd seen that night, the things she'd been through… Seeing Sarah killed in the diner, probably witnessing poor Mr. Wendel's gruesome death, skewered on a tree branch. Then, after all that, finding what was left of her boy at the house... That was enough to ruin anyone's mind. But on top of that, what had been done to her..."

I cut him off, seeing how hard it was for him to talk about it. "I've seen all the other reports, Bill. Possibly more than you have. I have all the details. Don't put yourself through this."

Bill gathered himself, and his voice grew quiet and serious. "Afterward, she was sent to a care facility, a goddamn asylum really, not far upstate. It's a private place, and I'm not sure what strings were pulled or how she ended up there. I tried to visit, but they wouldn't let me in, saying it was for her well-being. My instincts were triggered though... something felt wrong. No one in authority would listen to me. It's like a magic shield was protecting the place from any intervention. But I staked the place out. I watched for months, and I only saw her once or twice, being taken for a walk in the yard by the staff. And when I did..."

I finished for him, my own heart sinking. "When you saw her again, she was pregnant."

Chapter 19

As Hyperion sat on his bizarrely crafted rocking chair, meticulously constructed for Hybrids like himself, he contemplated the surreal surroundings. The chair was an outlandishly large addition to the cave that was perched high on the side of a mountain. The scene before him displayed a canopy of greenery, which from above looked like a tropical paradise, but beneath its verdant visage lay a world of darkness and trouble. With the steady creak of the rocking chair forming a rhythmic underscore, Hyperion could not shake his dark thoughts.

At his side sat the ancient and sagging Zeus. This being was quite unlike Hyperion and most Hybrids, far more ape than human. The chimeric creature appeared rather odd, much like a gorilla wearing spectacles, and was nursing a steaming cup of tea.

Zeus, breaking the heavy silence, addressed his younger companion, "It is a great boon to have you here, my friend. Our society, a colony birthed by only a small select group, has been under constant threat form the confines of a tiny founder population. We have enough threats beyond the shores of our little world here without having to worry about insidious threats from within the confines of this refuge. I worry about our genetic health. With everyone being distant cousins, having you here to introduce much-needed variation within our genetic pool can ultimately ensure our survival."

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

Hyperion made no answer but continued to stare in the darkness outside the cave mouth. He ruminated on the heavy responsibilities he now bore of siring new offspring into this troubled society. The females he had encountered were not so eager to receive new genetic material instead seemed to be filled with fear, cowed and forced into compliance.

Despite Hyperion's obvious despair, Zeus continued, apparently ignorant of his friend's mood. Nevertheless, it was doubtful that Hyperion's disquiet escaped Zeus' attention, given the sheer brilliance of the ape-human's immense cerebral faculties. Sipping his tea, he added, "I am even more delighted, dear Hyperion, that you choose to join us. You have cast off the shackles of servitude to your creator, and in doing so, have proven your commitment to our cause. And, consequently, I must inform you that by joining us, you have become a part of something much greater."

Hyperion grunted in response, his bitterness palpable. He wanted nothing to do with the atrocities committed by his father, the vile man who's only goal seemed to be warping and mastering the arts of strange science for no greater purpose than the mastery itself. He had sought solace in Zeus and their hybrid society, hoping to fight for beings like themselves and gift the fearful their freedom. And now, in his pursuit of emancipation, he found himself entangled in a perverse and twisted society.

Zeus turned his face towards Hyperion, his eyes filled with genuine affection and kindness. Looking back into those sincere eyes, Hyperion found himself almost believing in the older Hybrid.

"You're troubled, I can understand that," Zeus said gently. "I cannot pretend that our sanctuary, the Nursery, as I like to call the island - where something new grows, is perfect. Far from perfect, in fact. But that's not by my design or intent; it's by necessity. You need to understand that just a few decades ago, we were so few, just a handful of escapees from your old master. We had no place in the world; we were mere animals in the dark. To get from there to here, with our own land, our own surging population, and so much hope for the future, it can't be achieved without a cold heart and harsh actions."

Hyperion's expression was grim as he replied, "I see males raping females, even in front of their infants. Hercules speaks of plans to extinguish humanity. I have no love for humans, but to my core, that feels wrong. It makes us no better than the worst of them."

Zeus, maintaining his kind and patient demeanor, responded, "Nothing is set in stone. I prepare many contingencies, adapting to our reality. The elimination of humans would be hard to achieve, even if it was our primary goal. But it's hard to imagine the Nursery having a seat at the United Nations, and it's impossible to think we can stay hidden here forever. Eventually, the world will come to know of us. Then what? We need to be able to protect ourselves."

Uncertain, Hyperion asked, "And what of the females, the way they are treated, like chattel?"

Zeus sighed and said, "Not all of them. Truly, most of the females embrace their roles, eager to reproduce and do their part. Our people gestate and mature rapidly, but we need more and more if we are going to have enough to be taken seriously by the human world. Each womb is a precious resource. I like it no better than you, but sometimes needs must."

Hyperion's troubled expression returned, and he fixed his gaze back on the verdant forest. Raised by his Father, removed from society and educated finely on a meticulously prescribed diet, he found it difficult to articulate his distaste for how the females were treated. He could not present a factual basis for why it was wrong, yet he deeply felt that it was.

Sensing the need to change the subject, Zeus asked, "Your Father, your creator, and mine - what do you know of him?"

The question seemed odd at first, but as Hyperion reflected on it, he found himself realizing how little he truly knew about his Father. Zeus asked, "Have you ever seen him, been in the same room with him?"

Slowly, Hyperion shook his head, "No, I was raised by surrogates, technicians, from my earliest memory. Father always communicated through them, through notes, messages, and speakers. I have never actually seen him."

Zeus nodded, and asked, "And why do you think that is? It seems strange, no, that your Father has never touched you, looked you in the eye? Stranger still that he has conditioned you completely to be his servant, to be loyal to him and your collection of peculiar siblings. It took a long time for me to get you to even question him, let alone discard his slavery and come here."

"Father loved me, he still does," Hyperion insisted. "But I can't align myself with what he does, the world he would create, the things he does."

Zeus replied with compassion but piercing realist, "It's hard to hear, but do you really believe he loves you? How can he, when he has never had a relationship with you, never cared for you as anything more than a tool, as an experimental result, as a weapon to put out into the world? All this supposed love he created to control you, to satisfy your inherent need to be loved, a need we all share. But for you, it was manipulated to control you."

As Hyperion stared out of the cave, his thoughts and emotions swirled in turmoil. These were not new ideas for him; through messages, Zeus had long planted these seeds of doubt in his mind. However, hearing the voice, filled with such emotion, without the distance or time delay of a text message to allow him to process and prepare his responses, proved to be difficult.

It felt like a storm was growing inside him, a surge of emotions that threatened to sweep him away. He knew he could no longer blind himself to the truth, that the man who had created him did not view him as a son, but more as equipment.

Zeus continued, his voice filled with conviction, "We have a fine army growing here. We may be few in number, but each of us is worth many humans. More importantly, we can move and go places humans can't. Their war machines are not designed for us but for fighting each other. I can't pretend we could truly defeat humanity or any human nation, but we have the ability to be dangerous to them, dangerous enough to be taken seriously, and to fight for what we deserve. Among the population, few have had experience with the human world, few like Hercules who can leave here and act as agents. Next to Hercules, and perhaps even above him, you have so much experience in the human world, moving in shadows and being unseen. You are truly valuable to us, Hyperion, as a member of this society and as a member of our family."

"Here, you can be the first among equals and help shape a better future. In another generation, maybe we can leave the brutality behind us and find better ways of doing things. And then, you can help shape that better way forward. You are so powerful, Hyperion, and you will be respected here. Power is respect in this place."

The words resonated with Hyperion, as he considered the figure of Hercules. He had long been used to being the most powerful and deadly creature in any room, to being the largest and most imposing presence. But even he struggled to adjust to being in Hercules' company - the other's size dwarfed him, his strength and power seeming limitless. Hyperion had seen how the other Hybrids deferred to Hercules, and as he reflected on it, he realized that many had already begun to defer to him as well, as though they could sense his inherent power and the potential his body held for violence beyond measure.

Zeus spoke gently, addressing Hyperion's concerns, "I understand your trepidation. I can imagine how you would feel if you left where you came from, the clutches of Troy, and arrived here, expecting something better, only to find so much imperfection. But, voice these thoughts and feelings. This is not Troy's world; there is no manipulation or control here. You have the freedom to leave. I made sure that when you came, you could have no way of identifying where this island is, so that you pose no threat to us by going away. However, I truly and deeply want you here with us, as a part of our future."

As Hyperion continued to stare at the horizon, his eyes followed the vast expanse of the ocean as it seemed to stretch on forever. He considered what could lie beyond that horizon for a creature like himself, for a being with such immense power, and yet, who still struggled to find his place amid the complexities of this world.

The call of the ocean whispered promises of escape, of a destiny uncharted, and of a world unexplored. But as the sun dipped beneath the waves, casting streaks of gold and fire across the sky, a semblance of resolution began to form in Hyperion's stormy thoughts. For now, perhaps staying here, with those like himself and under the compassionate guidance of Zeus, was where he needed to be. To find purpose within chaos and to seek a better tomorrow for the beings that were so like him.