"Your mission is clear," Ganymede said, her voice steady as a scalpel, honed for command. "Find RS-07 and bring it back alive. Do not engage lethally unless the threat escalates to Level Four or higher."
Deputy Haturii nodded grimly. "That's going to be difficult. We'll need enhanced capture units and fourth-gen suppression gear. At minimum."
Dr. Stane, tall and cadaverous, stepped forward. His lab coat bore the crimson insignia of the ARGUS Department of Biocryptic Studies. In his hands: a thick black dossier marked with an obsidian triangle—ARGUS HIGH THREAT CLASSIFICATION.
"These are RS-07'S containment files," he said. "Codename: Penumbra. Study them with extreme scrutiny. All known data, however limited, is contained herein be it behavioral tendencies, migration patterns, anomalous surges, and its prior breach logs."
Haturii flipped through the folder. Most of the pages were heavily redacted, jagged black ink slashing through paragraphs like gaping wounds. What remained showed blurred images of a twisted form: half-feral, half-mechanical. Eyes reflective, almost sentient. A monster wearing the face of a human.
A screen activated behind them, bathing the briefing room in blue light. Strange sea creatures shimmered across its surface. Chimeric predators from the abyss.
"Nature deceives," Ganymede began. "It lies, coils, and waits. In fact, there are many creatures in the wild that go to great lengths to deceive, disguising themselves as something entirely benign or even enticing to lure unsuspecting prey, targets, or hosts without detection. This phenomenon is known as aggressive mimicry, where predators or parasites adopt the appearance of harmless entities, or even attractive mates, while harboring predatory intentions. Regardless of their guise, they are wolves in sheep's clothing.
"Take the anglerfish in the depths of the ocean, for instance, dangling a seductive light to lure unsuspecting fish into its waiting jaws. Similarly, the alligator snapping turtle wiggles its worm-like tongue to attract hungry fish. Fortunately, humans are far more discerning than aquatic life. We remain safe from such trickery. No creature has evolved to resemble something familiar, something everyday, just to ensnare unsuspecting people into their grasp."
"Atleast, that was what we thought."
She tapped a button. The image morphed into a bizarre, almost cartoonish rendering of RS-07. It looked absurd. Innocent. Almost laughable.
"Don't let the form fool you. RS-07 is no mere biological curiosity. Its design is intentional. It mimics vulnerability to invite proximity. Victims often describe it as 'familiar' or 'comforting' moments before it tears through reinforced steel and bone."
Dr. Stane stepped forward. "RS-07 is not simply a threat. It is a paradox. We've observed evidence of sapience... a capacity to learn, to strategize. Our preliminary classification is shifting. It may no longer be simply a Biocryptic Entity but a possible Systemic Wraith-Class anomaly. It does not simply kill. It consumes—energy, memory, and pattern."
Ganymede nodded solemnly. "This creature doesn't just exist. It adapts. It remembers."
Haturii frowned. "You're saying it learns from each encounter?"
"Precisely," Stane replied. "It evolves tactically. What worked once will fail again. That's why we believe this ties to the Requiem System."
A stillness filled the room.
"…The Requiem Protocol?" Haturii asked.
Stane answered before Ganymede could. "One of eight, it seems. No known origin. Ancient, possibly pre-Foundation. We don't control it. We simply observe. And when a Pattern emerges, it means something's coming. Something bad."
Ganymede's voice was quiet now. "The anomaly's activity syncs with readings from the Requiem System. Specifically, Pattern-Eight: Death Is My Guide. Every time it manifests, local biospheric Taiji levels drop. It feeds on it, drains it. We believe it doesn't just mimic life… it might replace it."
She walked over to a cabinet and unlocked a small container. Inside were shimmering canisters of liquid light. Taiji amplifiers.
"You'll be issued these. Don't use them unless absolutely necessary. They can draw its attention."
Stane added, "It's drawn to high concentrations of unshielded Taiji. Think of it like blood in the water. If it senses a spike, it will come."
"And what happens if it feeds too much?" Haturii asked.
The doctor didn't answer. Ganymede did.
"Then it will no longer need to hide."
Haturii exhaled slowly. "Understood."
As Ganymede turned to leave, Haturii's voice followed her. "If you're warning us to be cautious, we get it."
She stopped. "You misunderstand. I'm not warning you to be cautious."
She turned her head slightly, just enough for him to see her eyes.
"I'm telling you to be afraid."
Haturii's expression hardened. "Then all the more reason you're coming with us."
Ganymede stopped in her tracks.
"What?" she asked, her voice suddenly sharp.
"You're part of this. You've spent years on this case. No partner. No family. This thing is your legacy."
She glanced at Dr. Stane, already shaking her head.
"You want boots on the ground?" he said. "She knows more than the rest of us combined. Hell, she built half the tracking software we're using."
Ganymede's face was unreadable. Cold. Controlled.
"You're asking me to follow a monster into the dark. Fine. But don't ask me to drag you back when it decides you're prey."
And with that, she left.
Haturii watched her go.
"Sure do hope it's worth it."
---
"…If we're dealing with ridiculously OP monsters now," Yukira muttered under her breath, "I highly doubt we're making the cut for this one."
Orenji arched a brow. "Guess we're benched, huh? Damn. And I was really looking forward to getting vaporized."
"Could you be serious for five minutes?"
Yukira crouched, her expression shifting.
"Oi. Come look at this. You seeing this?"
"What? What's up?" Orenji walked over. The blast door was warped inwards, not from an explosion, but imploded, as though something had torn through it with pinpoint pressure.
"That's tungsten alloy…" he whispered.
She traced her fingers along the mangled steel. Her pupils narrowed.
"There's residue on here. Taiji. But it's faint, almost."
"That's impossible. Inanimate objects don't retain Taiji. Not unless—"
"Unless something poured raw metaphysical force through them. No elemental trail nearby, no signature. Just pressure. Brutal, unshaped power."
Orenji took a step back. "...An ergokinetic."
"Maybe," she drew out the word long enough, and he knew she didn't want to believe it herself. "I mean, sure looks like it," she answered, slowly getting back to her feet, "It's like… the thing's a Taiji siphon. Like it drains life energy without refining it. Like it's feeding."
"Fascinating," Orenji gulped. "Monsters using Taiji now as some kind of element? This is big, we gotta tell Haturii!"
As he tried to leave, Yukira grabbed him by the upper arm, stopping him. He paused to look at her and he could see on her steel trap face, a glimmer of surprise.
"Whoa now, jumpy. Where do you think you're going?" She asked, looking at him with the kind of beaming grin that told, 'Oh, I most definitely need a favor now.'
"To tell Haturii..." he answered plainly.
"I've got a better idea."
"Oh, good lord..." he knew what was coming.
"So how about we not do that. Look, all I'm saying is, why don't we take a quick look ourselves to make sure, cause if we're wrong, we'll look like total idiots."
He paused. "You're serious?"
"This could be the first Requiem-Class in years. We screw this up, we're done. Claive or not."
She looked him in the eye, putting aside her pride. Just this once. "Look, I'm not saying we go rogue, okay? We'll just do some visual verifications, lay eyes on the target, and call Haturii. You said you wanted to matter, right? This is how."
Orenji hesitated. Then nodded.
"One quick look, then we call Sir Haturii. That's it. That's all we get."
"Oh," she said, feigning innocence. Jutting out her chin defiantly, Yukira stated her next words firmly, unknown to him she had her fingers crossed behind her back, all the while very well telling the lie, "Well, all right then. I promise…"