Author's Note: Hello Lads and Ladies

i am currently experiencing a lot of negative feelings although my life is positive. There is an active dissonance between things happening in my life and the way that i react to them, and it is pretty tiring. After i finish a chapter i worry if the directions is the proper one or better yet i am so disoriented that i don't know in which direction i should go.

I finished this chapter and realized that like season 2 i had no concrete plan for Juno's character outside of the context of her relationship with Legosi, which i personally found would be a disservice to a character. I never wanted to reduce a character down to a relationship and make them nothing but a partner that aided nothing but their protagonist spouse. And to add to the whole cocktail of negative feelings a friend of mine is doing hard drugs and another is currently in grief over the loss of one of their best friends.

I would not call this point in my life a crossroads, neither would i identify it to be a lesson of any kind. I just am in a situation where i am observing others suffering and then when i feel powerless question if my work is all as good as it pretends to be. I am afraid that i am up to disappoint all of you the very people i would never want to dissapoint, the group of people that has been with me through this Journey.

I'm just currently doubting myself and it is hindering my ability to write as much as i'd like to. I do make great progress however often i am second guessing if my current plot line is the right one to follow, if i really should introduce a character or just leave them out in fear of overcrowding. I really don't want to stranger things the cast (you can like the new folks as much as you want, they are just too many.)

So anyway, every artist has moments of self doubt and i hope you guys are ok the way that you are. Indulge in my story and please have a lovely day afterwards. Remember, be kind to others as you want to be treated. Enjoy!

Song Recommendation:

During Strightman's first segment listen to "This is your Life (featuring Tyler Durden)" by the Dust Brothers

During Strightman's second segment listen to "Silver Lights" by Coconuts.

Edited by: SuperAverageFoxyboy, The dude who likes Tanks
-Portal

"22, 23, 24-"

Legosi was on the ground in one row with his comrades. The first day of the military had been nothing but signing forms and showing documents to verify his identity. The following days had been a sudden and aggressive wake-up call back to the reality of the situation. Sit-ups, push-ups, jumping jacks the regiment pulled them through it all.

"28, 29, 30-" Their team leader, a charismatic wolf only known by the rank of Captain, was walking up and down the row counting up the number of push-ups they had done so far. Legosi's head filled with thoughts of American movies he had watched with his friends. The analytical version of things in Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket or the militant compilation of Forrest Gump. movies he had watched while passive, in his second self while his true self was sunk down to the bottom of the pit.

"34, 35, 36-"

Legosi found even though it exhausted him to work himself to such a degree without any prep time that it was a time that truly left him alone with his thoughts. No thoughts had been clearer for a long time.

"48, 49, 50. On your feet."

The group jumped to their feet, some struggling more than others. Legosi landed on his feet, his muscles burning and his legs feeling like jello yet he stared ahead coldly. Among the group of different breeds of dog Legosi easily managed to be the tallest wolf of them all, even topping the Captain by a bit.

"Line to the west and down to the firing range." His finger pointed to the side of the corresponding side of the room. The group started walking as soon as Captain had finished his command, walking in a clear row towards the firing range.

When he read the documents that detailed the training grounds there was talk of out-of-town warehouses to the north but when he received the blue government envelopes in the mail the assignment sheet's address led him to unassuming factory grounds in the industrial district.

It was sort of ingenious to place the secret training grounds among the very populous one was trying to protect, and in a way that seemed to be so completely unassuming and hidden away.

They reached the rifle range, one after the other people taking rifles from the racks and then forming neat lines before the shooting ranges. A lot of drills' main priority was to school the recruits of not only exercise routine but also the layout of the place they spend their days at, which had been another interesting change of the structure one would expect from western media. Nobody slept here except those that explicitly wished to. It was advised to keep appearances up and not let any slither of information out of the teams.

Legosi had, besides Bill's revolver, never shot a gun, it was perhaps the most alien of the processes in here. And yet like the actor spy that he was, he held up his rifle and placed neat shots into the targets, having to try to keep his hand calm. He wasn't exceptional nor was he terrible. He was an average in between.
"Arms down!" the instructor shouted at the recruits ordering them to lower their rifle and turn the safety mechanism on as each recruit was graded on their accuracy.

"Fighting ring."

The days of the first week phased past his eyes, one day forming into the next as he settled into the routine. And now it has become his favorite activity. Get on your headgear and your gloves and jump into the ring. Legosi wasn't violent, but he would lie if he didn't admit wiping the floor with opponents didn't hold some stupid and savage carnal fun.

His mind flashed to sparing with Bill, laying infinitely back, when he had been a completely different wolf.

His fist clashed with the face of the dog opposite of him and immediately he jumped forwards for a second hit to his side. The figure sank and Legosi jumped atop, sending the last punch forward.

His battered opponent lay on the ground as the Captain applauded him and the memory transformed to the last moment he could recall from the most important parts of the week.

Captain had commended his quick learning skills and perfect obedience. He had become something of an exemplary private, one to behold. Legosi found it scary how Yahya's words of canine submission and obedience may have been true after all.

He walked home wearing a loose shirt at the end of a long workday. He used the EL train and waved at the giggling girls staring at him from the side.

When he arrived at his apartment before he could even insert the key the door opened to reveal Juno wearing a bright cyan lingerie set. She pulled him in by his collar, closing the door behind him with a crash.

Life in the many ways that it could be terrible, in the many ways that it could teach them what it felt like to truly fear things, had been good. Life was very good to them, stuck in their endless honeymoon routine.

"I don't think all this stress is good for the baby." Vera sat at the table, cradling the sizable bump that was her abdomen. They were three and a half months into the nine-month term, and the documents on the table were all of other potential apartments.

"I don't want to raise our child here. I don't want our kid to be subjected to these awful tests."

"They start when they'll be twelve, don't catastrophize." She looked at him with this lovely innocence. Something so dear and kind and something that was so entirely useless at times like these.

"Vera! I know what I'm talking about." His voice raised to a shout and to his detriment he saw her eyes have a glint of fear, his entire anger falling out of him.

"No, that's not what I meant. Honey-" She had stood up from the table, walking away to the bedroom, smashing the door closed. His ear were attuned to her elevated heartbeat and the sobbing followed.

He sighed in disappointment and felt a surge inside him. Suddenly he held his badge in his pocket and threw it across the room, the golden emblem striking a picture frame. Glass shattered, his wife's voice gasping in surprise.

He knew that she had never seen him angry, and he knew that he would want to keep it like that. Without another care, he grabbed his coat and left the house walking the street.

He walked past every single billboard with rage growing, every single group of herbivores or carnivores with the surge of anger increasing in strength and suddenly he felt vertigo.

He stood in whatever residential district he couldn't know the name of, in a world that despised him, abandoned by parents and spouses to deal with the monumental pressure of the world all by himself. His child would suffer if he did nothing and he would serve the very people that had decided their life better than the one of his innocent child.

He had spent thirty years of life following the very people that hated him, he had failed to do good when he let himself be knocked out by a true monster on Cherryton grounds and now he failed to show kindness to his terrified pregnant wife. He was a horrible person that knew nothing of ideals and morals, only following authority like a blind moron lulled into false security by the big shining emblems of supposed justice and order.

"Let me go!" His ears flicked and he looked ahead.

"You look wonderful in that dress of yours... Come on, just let me have a feel." He was in his fifties, maybe older. Carnivore trash that preyed on the young and defenseless.

She was young, attractive, and fragile. Defenseless with her dull nails and flat teeth made for eating plants. A tale as old as time, so cliched that Strightman wasn't sure if there wasn't a camera somewhere.

A young sheep being attacked by a bad bad Tiger.

He walked forward much like he would if he left a store or the precinct when in truth he was burning with rage. His movement was stiff, his muscles moving for the sole purpose of approaching the enemy, not to solve an issue. He spent his whole life following rules, it was liberating to finally break one.

The first punch was hard enough to nearly topple the moronic old-timer. He loomed forwards, letting go of the sheep in the vibrant red dress, with a pain-stricken face.

Strightman grabbed onto the tiger's coat and swung his knee into his stomach. Once, twice, thrice, four times, five times, six times until the seventh kick onto his side sent the tiger tumbling to the ground, trying his best to protect his stomach. The very stomach that wanted to press onto the sheep as he would've forced himself onto her.

He sunk onto the figure, his legs pinning his arms. His fists came down onto the face once, twice, thrice, four times, five times, six times until he lost count. Maybe it was a dozen more, maybe it was just a few, he couldn't care less. He felt his blood pump with every hit, his carnivore sense rejoicing in his mind as blood sprayed and flesh became like mud under the tiger's skin.

It wasn't until he saw the tiger spit out teeth that he finally stopped, his opponent's face losing structure as it seemed to melt into a blood and flesh-filled balloon. And there he was, fists bloodied while his spirit felt complete, collected, and finished. Letting go of his civilized self had been release, had been perfection.

He raised himself, feeling the person he used to be returning to the controls. He looked over, the sheep not even seeming disturbed as she looked thankful at him. She didn't think his rage was abnormal, she thought it was the most natural thing for a carnivore to do. She was fragile and false just like the government wanted her to be, an attractive young herbivore that could vote for the very state that condemned his child's life.

"Thank you so much, mister-"

"Go home!" He grunted at her, moving past her as if she didn't stand there. It shattered all pretense. Him being an aggressor was nothing but an excuse, this was what he needed. Savage freedom of mind and worry, safety in letting go. All he needed tonight was an awakening, a foe to project all his worry and all his rage onto.

He went into his pocket and found the packaging of instinct suppressant, he popped two into his mouth. He was pumped up enough he feared he would just go on a killing spree that would end in his and his wife's bedroom.

And that moment in time when he continued to walk was the very moment he saw the black paint. The sheep with the wolfish teeth on the grey wall of whatever shit-hole storage unit he was walking past.

He had read the reports, had read what the state wanted him to believe was the enemy. And then he remembered his first thought upon seeing the vote come to a close. He could get his hands on the armory key, a little silver key that opened the box of Pandora to all the world hung on the keychain on his uniform at home.

He looked for a minute longer and then decided that switching sides was long overdue.

He arrived home a different man. He picked up the pieces of the broken frame and laid them down on the table, he placed his badge back into his uniform jacket. And then the husband returned to his wife's side. After all, they had survived far worse in their minuscule lives filled with terror and fear of what the state and its society would do.

He ended the night with an apology and a kiss that turned into more. The man that once had been however was gone, and the new man willing to do anything was the one caring for his wife. If old Strightman had any regrets prior to this fundamental change was that he hadn't lost control earlier.

Yajuu looked at the medical building, holding the information slip he had gotten in the mail. All his life spent trying to hide his true face from the world and now this little slip of paper demanded that he show it in full light.

With a sinking stomach, he entered the building, pulling his hat down to shield his eyes. The inside was different from the average clinic one would visit in case of sickness. There was no big activity of patients or doctors walking around, simply a lone Aardvark receptionist.

"Uhh... Hello." His stress was as real as the fluorescent rods shining above the reception like the picturesque medical scene that this was.

"Oh sorry to inform you sir, but the clinic today is reserved for Hybrids only due to first testing as per the new laws... If you are in need of assistance I can recommend the Central Edobutsu Medical Center." Her words were caked in kindness and helpfulness. Yajuu wondered if this was just because she thought him to be a pure blood.

In another world, somewhere where his past had led him to a different conclusion he would've crumbled the slip and walked out of this place, never looking back. But he wasn't that Weindeer, he was this universe's version of himself.

"I-I am a hybrid." He held out the slip of paper and the demeanor of the little aardvark changed. She still smiled but there was something different in her tone. Yajuu's best bet was that she had been startled by how convincing his exterior was.

"M-My mistake sir, the door to testing is over there. You might have to wait for a while."

"Thanks." Yajuu moved towards the door without turning around, seeing her looking after him might have been enough to destroy the little calm he had reserved for today.

The waiting area before the testing was empty, leaving him to sit down and wait while being left to his own devices, his mind racing with versions of events that were to come. It was troubling how fragile the workings of his mind were when stripped of all safety. He felt as if he was going to freeze and become a statue on the seat, never to move ever again. He started to think that if he slipped on a puddle or bumped the door frame he would just shatter into a million pieces of glass.

What was a carnivore for if it can't protect itself?

The door opened, whatever helpless sap that had come before him leaving the room looking ahead with as much gloom as Yajuu could fathom to be possible.

He looked at the door and his heart began to race. In the door stood a reindeer that couldn't be older than thirty. She wore her lab coat nice and orderly, a blue shirt peeking out from the clinical white of the Doctor's apparel.

"You may step forward sir." Her face was one of restraint, sadness peaking out ever so slightly from her features. Yajuu prayed that today he wouldn't fall victim to his own instincts today. He grasped the case of oils in his pocket and moved forward.

The treatment room was moderately sized but filled with various setups of different kinds. A chair beside a blood bag for drawing blood, A EKG beside a stationary bike, or a table with a few papers laying atop it.

"Well, let's get the most uncomfortable out of the way first." She closed the door behind her. Yajuu looked back at her and she was reaching out her hand at him. It took him a second to realize to give her the documents he had received in the mail.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft, and when he touched her hand he found her fur very comfortable. He stood there awaiting further instructions, his eyes not concentrating on anything at all. He sniffed the air and noticed the faint scent of perfume and mild perspiration. Maybe stress, maybe exhaustion...

"Well Mr. Yajuu, We need a photo for your file. You can place your clothes over there." The Reindeer stared at his pureblooded counterpart, Every muscle freezing.

"What?"

"For the medical Files we'll need a photo of your physique... Trust me that this is as uncomfortable for you as it is for me." They shared a moment of eye contact through his sunglasses, a moment of sympathy in lamenting the circumstances they were in.

Yajuu's breathing picked up as he removed the first layer, his trusted trench coat. When he had been young, his mother never gave him proper clothes that fit his stature. She gave him whatever was there, not even bothering to fix holes or stitch a few pieces together. His blanket for the longest time had been an elephant's jacket that his mother had stolen from a bar during her street crawler days.

Going through the layers of his own clothing was to him like peeling back the layers of time that had encased every being on the earth. When trauma occurred even if it would never heal time would come and close access to the exposed and unhealed flesh. And as long as no one came along to remind you of your past, to strip the layers of sand between you and whatever thing you wished laid buried forever you were safe from hurting again. The only negative was... it forced you to live in passive for the rest of your days, scared that anything active might cause a breeze that blows the sand of time away.

Once he had gotten his shirt off, in his mind, he knew that he was digging up the statue of a dictator, king, or an emperor of the past that had caused terrible things. Yet by the circumstance, he was forced to continue even though he wanted to let it rest, do the right thing and let sleeping dogs lie.

He knew that when he took off his pants, his undershirt, and lastly his underwear he would lay bare something he wanted to pretend wasn't the truth. In his fur, in his strength, in his unequivocal loneliness were two people crystal clear.

Clarence the vice president of a famous bank in the high and mighty district, a man with a wife and kids that secretly harbored a fetish for carnivores. And a whore named Kaori.

"Doctor... what's your name." The tall figure standing before her had lost its semblances of adulthood. He looked like a lost child, searching for his parents.

"I'm Carol." Protocol stated that she should go back to the tests, but her mind was telling her differently. She had wanted to do research, to help people, not to instill fear and suffering in the hybrid men and women of Edobutsu. So she indulged the hybrid's conversation.

"Have you ever felt alone?"

The question cascaded through who she was and what she had been through, all the years of looking like a failure to her parents who thought her pesky little hobby of sciences would flaunt out when she met the prestigious buck they had picked out from their business contacts. Little Carol had gone down the rabbit hole, lost with the white rabbit and his funny little jacket, the mad hatter and his delirious tea party, and the mysterious caterpillar drenched in endless smoke.

"Yes, I have... I think everyone has, Mr. Yajuu." She bit her tongue trying to get back on track. She needed some form of release or she would leave her aspirations behind of becoming a researcher.

"I don't think so." His words sounded sad and defeated. "If everyone knew what being alone was like, then why would they isolate us?"

Again the protocol knocked on her mind's door and again she ignored the annoying thought. She thought of what to say, what would be the answer that she herself believed?

"I think we all handle it differently. Some people have been taught that loneliness is weakness and that what we don't understand is evil. That what we fear is what we need to destroy."

"What do you believe, Dr. Carol?"

She was floored as her mind pulled a blank. All of her books, all her studies, and all her strive for the sciences, and yet when she was asked what she believed in, the core of her as a person, she pulled a blank. Her aspirations had seemingly eaten her whole. She thought for a moment that was longer than it should have been even to her rebellious protocol-ignoring self.

"I believe that we need to learn about the things that we fear in order to understand them better, that fear itself is only unknowing because an intelligent being wants to control its surroundings..."

"So you think that we're doing this to learn."

She paused for another moment. She felt her insides churning and wanting to compress her into a speck of dust that could be carried away by the wind.

"Yes, I do." She didn't.

"Ok... that's what I needed." Yajuu was now naked with far more manageable humility. He wanted her to know that he was an animal just like her, not a freak of nature like the textbooks and the protocols dictated.

"Then let's continue." The doctor in question had grasped herself again, going to the camera to check if the angle and positioning were correct.

The tests themselves were mostly innocuous. Tests of his physical ability, his bite strength, his upper body strength, the properties of his fur and undercoat as well as a multitude of other little properties.

Besides the obvious discomfort of drawing blood, the only other thing that bothered him was the questions. Talking about his parents wasn't only brushing away sand of time but taking your fingers and pushing them into the open wound until one found whatever one was searching for.

In half an hour he put on his coat again and slid his hat onto his head. Once he was fully collected and ready he looked at Dr. Carol, her negative emotions obvious to someone with wounds and scars like himself.

"Doctor..."

"Yes?" She answered but didn't bother trying to smile, he had proven he could see through it anyway.

"Thank you... you made this much easier." He smiled warmly at her, only seeing her eyes in answer. She mustered a short and pragmatic smile herself, one that seemed real enough in its message to tell him to take a step back.

He started walking towards the door, his body hidden in the layers of clothing.

"Mr. Yajuu?"

The hybrid in question turned around in answer to her voice. She herself had turned around to look at him, the emotion on her face now being one of a somber sadness that was infinitely more rewarding than any fake smile.

"No, I don't believe that the whole test is made to understand you and Hybrid-kind better." She motioned around the room and stepped closer to him, energy shooting into her face.

"I think, Sublime Beastar Yahya is so full of himself that he thinks he can kick you around like trash and the city's inhabitant are stupid enough to take him at his word that hybrids are dangerous... I think I lied to myself when I took this job that I would help people just because I was desperate for something, anything that would prove that my work isn't useless and that my parents weren't right when they told me I was on a path to failure!" Her voice had raised to almost a shout, her emotions flowing out as her apparent rage broke through as she grasped at her head.

She looked around, humility on her face. She ordered the fur on her head and rearranged her lab coat.

"I'm sorry." The Doctor looked up at her subject, Yajuu easily a head taller than her. And she remained quiet for a moment just staring at the blinding smile coming from the Weindeer.

"Thank you for being honest."

And then, like a moment of pure magic, Yajuu approached her slowly and gently wrapped his hands around her, bending his legs so that his head rested on her shoulder. And as if the magic spread her own arms hugged his larger frame.

There were no tears, there were no words, no doctors, and no patients. Just two sides, engulfed in a hug, both regretting their positions. When the hug broke Yajuu looked at her with a smile.

"Do you have a pen and a piece of paper?"

"ehm..." She grabbed around her uniform, nearly tripping over herself as she walked towards the table. She grabbed a ballpoint pen from her pocket and a note from some of the office supplies on the table.

"Thanks." He went to the table and weaved his hand over the paper, leaving a little block of information on it.

"If you need company... my door is open." He handed her the piece of paper, bowed down in respect, turned around, and left the room, leaving Doctor Carol alone stunned in the treatment room.

When Yajuu left the terminal, greeting the receptionist with a happy little hello and goodbye he felt a lightness in his chest. His mind rotated around the Doctor and he realized that life was this funny thing where one day you could meet a friend, that was so similar to you that you have the euphoria of finally finding that one person that knew and understood every struggle you ever felt when the world that you knew was ending.

"Honey, I need to go to the store real quick, I need to pick something up."

"You forgot your keys." She picked up the car keys from the worktop of the kitchen. Strightman walked over and gave her a kiss.

"I'll walk. Don't be afraid to start dinner without me. Love you and my little Fitten." He patted her stomach and kissed her forehead. She giggled.

"Will do. Stay safe out there!"

"Don't forget your husband's a cop!" He left the house and closed the door, knowing exactly where to go. He found it amusing how the police reports that got to his desks were more barren of information than the internet. The state wanted you to know that you were dealing with an enemy, the rest was unimportant.

With purpose, the keys in his pocket, and his police cap under his jacket, he passed the turn towards the grocery store. And after a few more minutes he reached the large walls around the city's most infamous district.

He passed by most of the secret exists that he would recognize once he became part of Omnivora.

He walked through the market strip, with solid steps ignoring the very real possibility that Gouhin or Bill would see him. But right now his mental capacity was solely concentrated on meeting the very man that the state wanted him to destroy.

"Who are you?" The guard was a hybrid, no questions asked. It was a perfect mix of Doberman and Cheetah features. Strightman thought that today his chances of dying were a neat fifty-fifty, depending on which side of the guard had woken up today. He suppressed a chuckle and noticed how there was a feeling of cold moving through his chest. He was under the influence of adrenaline and was sure that he wouldn't even feel the first hit.

"An applicant." Strightman grabbed his police cap and held it out before him. Suddenly he realized that there were more than one guard before him.

"You got balls, I'll leave you that." The Guard seemed to chuckle in disbelief. He grabbed a radio from his belt and spoke into it.

"We got a cop at the front gate, says he wants to join. Over." It took a few moments where Strightman stayed utterly still, slowly coming to the conclusion that he was going to be shot into the back of his head in the next couple of seconds.

A voice finally answered.

"Check him for recording devices and bring him forward, blindfolded. We don't want to make it too easy huh." A soft laughing could be heard from the radio and as the guard approached Strightman instinctively held out his hands before him.

"This ain't no precinct brave little moron."The guard fastened the blindfold and Strightman suddenly heard and felt a presence beside him, another guard by his side to guide him forward.

 The first little walk was straightforward as they walked through the evening air slowly turning colder and colder into nighttime. They entered another door, made a few turns, and then reach a room where the standard procedure began.

He was patted down, searched for any object deemed dangerous to them. It was much like whenever one entered a government building that they were searched for any dangerous or prohibited material.By the end, they found nothing to confiscate, all he had was a key chain consisting of nothing but metal keys, not a single mechanical one. His Police cap was also searched, searching the insides of the leather binding around the outside rim.

With his items, he was led forward through another pathway with a notable descent. Two flights of stairs they descended, the first one full level and another only a few steps onto a lower platform of a room.

Soon they arrived at the final door and Strightman was brought into a room that at first seemed silent until he was standing in the middle. There was walking, breathing, and whispering around him. When his blindfold was removed he saw where he was. They seemed to be in a storage room of the metro, lights mounted to the upper walls and singular function over decor light bulbs hung from the metal pipes and ventilation shafts.

He stood there, an outsider looking in among a group of people that he had learned was the enemy for most of his life. He had been told to follow the rules always, to always be the best version of himself that he could be. And only now, after working as a police officer for nearly eight years, a wife of seven while having lived a full thirty. And that was the moment where Strightman, a real straight arrow of a man who followed rules and laws and even with all his work and responsibility took care of his garden simply to keep up appearances, met Melon.

From the group emerged the hybrid, his antlers pointing at the ceiling in their crooked shape. He was a head taller than Strightman even though they were both felines, at least partly.

"Why are you here." Melon walked forward, standing loosely before him. His carnivore eyes sized up the police officer, his arms loosely hanging by his sides. It looked almost like he was leaning backward.

Strightman held onto his police cap and the man that had once been begged that he should go, that he should just pretend like this didn't happen. The man that had been knew that this was a one-and-done deal, that everything would be different if he took this last dangerous step. And then the new man stepped forward and banished the law-abiding citizen once and for all.

"My child..." his voice almost opened all the floodgates with a single try.

"My wife is a deer... she's pregnant with our child... Yahya condemned their life before it even started." The group murmured, some loudly agreeing with his reasoning.Melon stood still looking at him.

"You want the keys to the Precinct Armories? I can get them for you." Strightman held up his keychain, the group around them falling completely silent.

"You want a voice on the inside, know what the chief is thinking? My ears are always open... You want armored Police vehicles? I can get the keys for them too."The group stood in silence as they waited for Melon to act. Their leader turned his head and sighed. His hand went into his pocket and reappeared with a flip phone, holding it loosely.

"We got tattoos." Melon held up his hand, the group doing the same. On the back of their hand was the sheep with wolfish teeth. Now Melon shook his head slightly.

"We obviously can't do that for you." He motioned to a few of the group and soon Strightman found himself surrounded by Omnivora members.

"You are currently in Metro Tunnel F-4, placed right under the abandoned Martinson Grocery Market of the Black Market District. Any call operator knows that... And now I'll apologize for what comes next."Before Strightman could answer he felt arms grab onto his jacket, pulling him free from it. Soon powerful arms had engulfed him and a clawed hand pulled up the shirt sleeve.

"You see, I need to be able to trust you." He placed the flip-phone into Strightman's free hand and grabbed back into his pocket, pulling out a switchblade. Suddenly Strightman felt a powerful hand on the side of his head, directing his vision directly at Melon.

"We all have to pay our prices. This business takes blood. A tattoo won't do with you, it'll play our cards too early... but a scar will do." Strightman slowly clued in while Melon was talking, and weirdly enough, he felt nothing.

"You call the cops and this ends, Show me just how strong you are."And then outside of his view, he felt the first incision, stinging and irritating pain as his muscles spasm-ed involuntarily. He grit his teeth as he felt the cut painstakingly drawn out to the slowest possible speed.And yet everything and everyone around him was completely silent. Even the men holding him down and keeping him from lashing out were completely quiet as their boss did the work of cutting along his upper arm.

Strightman himself didn't scream, taking the much-needed pain. To him it was punishment, to him it was redistribution. He grabbed the phone and threw it across the floor, whisking away all hope with it that he would ever return to normality. Nothing was normal in his society and it would stay abnormal until they were ready to take change into their own hands.

It took about five minutes of accepted agony until the cut was finished. Melon handed off the skin to one of the men holding him. They released him as he looked at his arm. A sizable hole had been cut into it, leaving there to be nothing but blood and flesh. He grabbed for his wound as Melon moved before him, holding him against the back of his hand which he had sliced open a moment prior.

"Drink it." He held forward into Strightman's face with his own bleeding hand. Strightman followed the command until his leader pulled away his hand, the men who held him returning with bandages. They wrapped his arm with medical gauze and bandages, part of himself now being in this place forever.

Melon grabbed and pulled him forward, hugging him as an old friend did. The two broke the hug, Melon still holding him by the shoulder. He grabbed the police cap and sat it on Strightman's head and then chuckled.

"My keeper of the city keys... Welcome to Omnivora."