Fantasy Guardians & Monsters

[vada]

| Vada & Grook |

Apolónia Queiroz​

Apolonia frowned down at the silver cuffs on her wrists. It was a low toxicity, silver mixed with steel, just enough to hurt and keep her from resisting. A prisoner, little more than a captured animal, she had spent the last three days in a holding cell, not knowing what was happening around her, or what would happen to her. Finally, someone had brought her a meal - a bowl of stew and a piece of cornbread - and when she’d finished scarfing it down, they’d let her out. Now, she sat in a garishly decorated office, the heads, bones, photos and artefacts of various creatures adorning its walls. The sight made her sick to her stomach, and so she stared at her hands in her lap, quietly saying a prayer for those who had lost their lives to this place.

This place… Apolonia had no idea where she was, and that both frightened and angered her. Before waking up on the cold, stone floor of that cell, the last thing she remembered was shifting back to her human form after a long night of running through the woods, and then being unexpectedly shot in the neck. Poison had surged through her, knocking her unconscious, but not before sending her into an excruciating seizure. Someone had dressed her in what looked like a prisoner’s jumpsuit and dragged her to this Hell on Earth, and not one person had spoken to her in all this time.

The office was empty, but she knew she wasn’t alone. On the other side of the closed door stood guards, guns in hand. They were the ones who had brought her here, setting her in this chair and chaining her feet to it, as though she had anywhere to run, even if she did know where she was.

Apolonia didn’t know how long she sat there, waiting, worried and confused, until finally, a tall man in a three piece suit walked in. His attire was expensive, his black hair slicked back, his green eyes intelligent but cold. Something about him instantly put Apolonia on edge, and she sat up a little straighter in her seat, despite the burning it caused to her wrists and ankles.

“Miss Queiroz, how lovely to meet you. I’m terribly sorry for the long wait, it’s been a busy few days for us.”

He moved to sit before her, but instead of taking the available chair behind the large oak desk, he sat on the front edge of it just a few feet in front of her, gripping the edges of the desk in his hands. “Now, I know you must be frightened, but there is really no need for that. As long as you cooperate, no further harm will come to you.” He smiled at her then, in a way that was perhaps meant to be charming, or kind, but instead sent a tremor down Apolonia’s spine. “Would you like something to drink?”

Apolonia didn’t respond. In truth, she was dying of thirst, her throat parched. She desperately wanted to nod, but she felt trapped, too suspicious and frightened of the man before her to form coherent words. He seemed to gather this, and he sighed with disappointment.

“Very well. Let’s get right into the thick of it then, why don’t we? You may call me Mr. Haering. I am the leader of this fine establishment. We call ourselves The Order of St. Demetrius. And we are,” he gestured to the trophies on the wall behind him with a casual wave of one hand, “monster slayers. It is our job, no, our privilege, to protect the world from abominations such as yourself. Now, I know you may be asking yourself why we spared you. But here’s the thing. As the world has evolved around us, so have our enemies. To stay one step ahead, we must, from time to time, implement new methods, tools. That’s where you come in, Miss Queiroz. You are powerful, strong, and resilient. We know everything there is to know about you, and we believe you will be a fine addition to our organisation, one way or another. That way is up to you. You may be a trophy… or a tool. The choice is yours.”

Apolonia’s head buzzed. The room spun, her vision blurring. She was barely able to believe the words coming from the man’s mouth, but the serious tone in which he spoke told her this was all very real. “You… you expect me to… kill… my own kind?”

Mr. Haering nodded, a smile appearing on his lips as she seemed to catch on. “Precisely. Now, I am no fool, Miss Queiroz. I know the moment we release you, you will scurry into a dark hole and hide. To prevent that, we’re going to be giving you a warden, if you will. Think of her as a partner if that makes it easier, but she has strict orders to kill you if you step one toe out of line.”

Apolonia wanted to faint. Or vomit. She wasn’t sure which. Her vision swam and it took all her strength to keep from slumping over in her seat. As it was, she groaned, low and deep, a sound full of the sickening agony she felt. Mr. Haering ignored this completely. Instead, he rose and walked around to the desk, pressing the intercom button on the phone.

“Ms. Carter, has Ms. Frederickson arrived yet?”

After a moment, an elderly woman’s voice replied, soft and casual. “Yes, Mr. Haering, she just walked in.”

“Good. Send her through please. And fetch Miss Queiroz a set of clean clothes… as well as some toiletries.” He turned to Apolonia, his cold, calculating smile appearing once more. “I think you two will get along marvellously. And if not,” he shrugged, “We’ll find her someone new. This will work, Miss Queiroz. Your life depends on it.”

 

[Grook]

DAGNY FREDERICKSON -- HUNTER

A lone jet flew over Manhattan.

In this sleek, expertly-crafted American vehicle, Dagny Frederickson and her designated bodyguard were seated first-class. The jet was a black crow on the horizon, an admirer of the barren quilted landscape that lay beneath. Bleak television gray. Everything was washed out, as if it had been splashed with a mix of all the ugliest watercolors in the world onto an unforgiving canvas. Fat, heavy raindrops rolled down the window, pelting the plane with dull and remorseless thuds. They left their tracks, but Dagny paid little mind to the outside world of the clouds.

There was business to be dealt with on the ground, and she would see to it that it was completed efficiently.

Sipping ice-cold coffee to match her equally numbed senses, Dagny was startled by a crisp voice that made its way through the intercom. "Prepare for landing at Manhattan Private Base Two, District Nine. Dagny Frederickson, brace for deployment." She was more than willing to comply with the voice, considering how long the flight had been. She yearned to stretch her legs, to let out the pent-up energy that the coffee had so unceremoniously seeped into her. But she would have to wait another few minutes. The files had already been put together hours beforehand, but Dagny shuffled through them nervously nevertheless, kicking her heels against the back of the seat. They were stamped with a red seal of approval. She was an American agent now, under beck and call of a hunting organization. Her family had long been left behind. This wasn't what she had been expecting, but it was enough, she supposed, to compensate for all the training that she had been forced to undergo. She cast a sidelong glance at the bodyguard beside her, completely and utterly exhausted. Lifeless and devoid of movement, he slumped in its own first class seat like a drunken sailor. She clicked her tongue a few times and he stood at attention, looking bewildered for a moment.

She had not yet met her werewolf partner. Dagny wasn't sure what to think of her. There was something eerily human about the werewolves she’d encountered in the past that she couldn't quite pinpoint. Perhaps it was the emotion in their expressions, or the way they kept things in their memory in such sharp detail, or the ferocity in their gaze when blood was shed. It made them the ideal partner agent... the perfect partner agent, even– if they could be tamed. What was notable about Apolonia in particular was that, according to the records the organization had left for her, she was unpredictable, difficult to handle. Stunningly beautiful, too, as Dagny saw from the records she’d briefly skimmed before flying out. Most likely she would be much more proficient than the fool she’d been assigned to initially. Dagny had already gone through two partners. They had both been discharged and slaughtered, had their heads mounted on walls to be admired for the fierce and elegant creatures they were, except without the danger of proximity.

At last the plane touched down, interrupting Dagny’s thoughts as the roar of the jets sputtered into silence.

When she stepped out, she fumbled with a jet-black umbrella. The whole occasion was like a funeral, she thought to herself. The dark clothing, the rain, the drab surroundings and the cold air that burned her lungs when she inhaled. She privately hoped it would not end with a funeral, but she had to admit that the situation might not end well– with her track record of partners, at least. She smoothed out her suit, gave her hair a pat beneath the overhang of the black umbrella, and ordered a cab to organization headquarters.

“Mr. Haering… a pleasure to meet you at long last,” Dagny exclaimed, feigning enthusiasm. She shook his hand, a cold smile consistently plastered onto her stony features. She deliberately ignored the woman in front of her, continuing to converse with Mr. Haering. “Wonderful office you have here. It’s my first time at the headquarters, so please, go easy on me,” she followed up the statement with a light laugh which was utterly removed from any humor.

“And who is this fine lady, Mr. Haering? I read over her file, she seems… delightful,” Dagny added, grimacing at the end of her sentence not out of sarcasm but because of a natural distaste for the supernatural.

“Ah yes, Apolonia Quieroz. A fine specimen, indeed. Why don’t I give you two some alone time, maybe allow you to figure out some things together before we potentially run her through your training program?”

“Wonderful, wonderful. I’d be more than happy to have a little chat with her.”

“In that case, I’ll leave you two be!”

Dagny nodded her head in thanks, then turned swiftly to Apolonia. Her eyes were devoid of emotion, empty and hollow. “So, Apolonia. Beautiful name by the way, for a beautiful… creature. Have you ever considered hunting your own kind? Has your blood ever boiled when your brethren mistreated you, when they hurt others in unjust ways? Because mine has. And trust me, I have resent for fellow human beings, too, and my own regrets.” She paused, checking her hair in the reflection of the clock that ticked above Apolonia’s head before she proceeded.

“You seem like a pleasant enough wolf. I’ve read your record extensively regarding your capture, but I’d like to hear the rundown of it from your point of view. Care to enlighten me?”