The wolf-thing was crouched on its hind legs in the middle of the Persian rug, one clawed fist planted on the floor for balance, the other held high in the air like a bodybuilder hitting a pose. It was waiting for a reaction. It wanted to be seen.

  "Counterproductive," Kelly muttered under her breath, her voice flat in the sudden silence.

  If it had magic super-stealth, then announcing itself was basically like strutting into a surprise party wearing a blinking sign that said “I’m here, prepare to die!” Kelly would’ve at least aimed guns, set a trap, or planted something embarrassing before making her entrance. Honestly, it looked ridiculous—terrifying, yes, but also like it was posing for a very dark action figure photo shoot.

  The rest of the group seemed to recognize it, but instead of attacking, they all looked embarrassed.

  The group’s tension dissolved. Manuel pinched the bridge of his nose. Dr. Haider looked down at his cards with a pained expression. Stacy rolled her eyes so hard her whole head tilted back.

  “Oh God, not this again,” Manuel sighed, the sound heavy with exhausted recognition. The room’s silence wasn’t fear. It was acute embarrassment.

  “The Mandog!” Stacy declared.

  Kelly’s head swiveled from the embarrassed humans to the posing creature. “The what? Don’t you mean Wolfman? Or werewolf?” She wasn’t sure if she should be offended on its behalf for their disrespect, or applaud its commitment. At least someone in this sterile, elevated district understood the importance of style and drama!

  The creature, the ‘Mandog’, took their recognition as a cue. It thumped its chest with a meaty fist. Its voice was a grating, wet bark, each word squeezed out with immense effort, its limited intelligence and mangled diction painfully obvious.

  “GIVE CUB.”

  It slammed a claw into the floor.

  “MY RIVAL IS DEAD. CUB MINE NOW.”

  A wet, angry breath.

  “I TAKE CUB HEART. EAT IT. THAT MAKES ME LEADER.”

  Another step closer.

  “YOU ARE DELAYING.”

  Its voice hardened, teeth showing.

  “KEEP DELAYING, AND YOU DIE BADLY. THEN YOU SCREAM. SLOW. MY PACK EAT WHAT’S LEFT.”

  The group promptly ignored the creature.

  It stood there, arm still half-raised, its threat evaporating in the air-conditioned silence.

  "You know," Kelly said, her voice conversational. She didn't look at the Mandog. She looked at the others, as if discussing a disappointing performance. "The stealth was good. A-plus. The dramatic reveal? Classic. But it lost the thread." She waved a hand dismissively toward the center of the room. "You don't announce the gruesome details before you start. You just start. It creates a better mood."

  Dr. Haider nodded thoughtfully as Stacy scratched her adopted wolf-cub’s chin. “We think it mutated in the outskirts, in one of the hotzones. Likely a regressive-mutagen hotzone type. The somewhat human hand sticking out of its chest suggests it fused with a human during its mutation. Some poor denizen of the outskirts. Despite its looks and size, we think it's just a cub. It’s a valuable sample. The rest of its pack likely didn't survive the toxic environment, as very few often do. Perhaps its entry portal was positioned there.”

  Manuel let out a short, derisive breath. “It's low EQ, a 2.05, we think. It seems to have gained limited intelligence as a result of its mutation and it has a variety of abilities that make its capture… difficult.” He made the word sound ridiculous, rolling his eyes. “It keeps trying to take the wolf-cub. It can teleport.”

  Kelly waited. She looked from Manuel to Stacy, then back to the Mandog, which was now sniffing the air, confused by the lack of screaming. “… Is that it? Does it do anything else?”

  “And that’s it.”

  “It’s a huge wolf that can teleport,” Stacy said with a wry, sad chuckle. “It recently… became self-aware after subsuming some poor idiot. It talks a lot and it's impossible to catch. We think its mutation lets it evolve faster than normal creatures. It even teleports when it’s unconscious.”

  Manuel nodded, agreeing. “It’s worth a fortune. Joe’s working on something that can hold it for more than a second. And, well… we already have buyers lined up for it.”

  Man. So portal creatures could subsume humans in the unpredictable bioweaponry cocktail that was hotzone mutations? It must have gained a Trait that let it survive not being turned into sludge and malformed radioactive bio-hazardous meat. Did that mean if Kelly went into a hotzone and inhaled whatever radioactive bioweapon concoction drifted in the air, she would either die horribly, transform, and reset as usual, or be mutated magically—forever? Into only god knew what? As some kind of freak with a Trait cementing the change in place? Kelly 2.0: Hotzone Edition?

  Kelly slotted this revelation under Things to Avoid at All Costs and made a mental note to never, ever inhale any of the gases in toxic zones. She would need to ensure her next gas mask was practically indestructible.

  They paused, watching the overgrown three-eyed werewolf. In a far corner of the lounge, Reggie sat, unmoving, a statue with eyes. Nobody reached for a weapon. Stacy reached for a slice of pizza.

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  The werewolf thumped its chest again, mistaking the awkward silence for fear. “YOU FEAR! GOOD! GIVE CUB-HEART!”

  Was it seriously still trying to pick a fight? Even though everyone here was many times stronger than it? Kelly could respect that kind of stubborn stupidity. It really should work on its introduction, though.

  “Just ignore him, and he will go away,” Dr. Haider replied, his voice already fading as he walked toward a paneled wall. It hissed open, revealing a hallway lined with racked weapons. “He knows he can’t hurt us, and he knows we can’t catch him… yet.” Dr. Haider rose and left the room without sparing the poor would-be assailant a glance.

  Stacy sighed and followed him soon after, although she gave a pitiful glance at the mutated animal. She took her pizza with her. Even the building’s security system seemed to joke about the newcomer; the red targeting laser from a ceiling turret swept over the creature, painted a dot on its forehead for a full second, then winked out with an audible, dismissive click.

  “YOU CANNOT RUN FROM ME! THE AIR YOU BREATHE IS MINE!”

  "If you've got magic super-stealth," Kelly finally addressed the creature, feeling something akin to pity, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the card table, "you don't announce yourself. You wait. You listen. You figure out who has the weakest throat." She gestured vaguely at the group. “I'm trying to help you.”

  She picked up a single poker chip. She flicked it. The plastic disc sailed through the air, tumbling end over end, and bounced off the creature's broad, furry forehead with a soft thwack.

  It blinked all three eyes.

  "See?" Kelly said. "You're standing in the dumbest possible place. No cover. Everyone's looking at you. You've lost the only advantage you had."

  Frustrated by this lack of respect, the werewolf underwent a terrible transformation. Its fur bristled and thickened. Its body gained mass and muscle, bones cracking as it expanded. It grew claws and fangs, shedding the remnants of its pants and jumper like a magnificent, ridiculous butterfly. Then it vanished.

  It teleported above them, a sudden mass blocking the ambient light. A massive shadow hung over the card table. The shadow of the mutated wolf.

  It was a pretty big wolf, though. Almost as large as Kelly’s armored truck. Yet when it let out a roar and swung its claws in a sweeping, theatrical arc meant to disembowel, Kelly found it cute, rather than terrifying. It was trying so hard.

  With a heavy sigh, Manuel said a single word. His lips, teeth, throat, and vocal cords were a weapon—an enhanced, modified soundgun designed for elites. It generated a focused, concussive force that could shatter reinforced bone to pulp. Overkill for an overgrown mutant barely stronger than a baseline human.

  "Stop."

  The word hit the air. A visible wave of concussive sound and distorted wind blasted forward. The wolf was blown out of mid-air, hurled backward as if kicked by a giant. It crashed into the far wall, slid down, and lay dazed.

  Manuel peeled off his glove. His palm split open, the skin and synthetic tissue retracting, the mechanical structure beneath expanding into a massive, blocky assembly. False bone expanded, unfolding mechanically into a wide barrel. It revealed a modified burner like Kelly had never seen. Standard burners were uncommon, hand or pistol-sized things. It was a massive cannon, with a capital ‘C,’ all integrated into his wrist. A Compact Directed Energy System—a CDES-12 Hand Torch, clearly enhanced with proprietary tech. He fired.

  A projectile of coherent heat, white-blue, crossed the room in a blink. A flash of light filled the space. When it passed, the spot where the wolf had been was empty. Just a scorch mark on the floor. Poor wolf. It had teleported away just in time.

  Kelly understood now why Manuel was on Haider’s team. He hadn’t even stood up from his chair. He definitely hadn’t used full power, or the room would be a molten crater. But she could tell. He didn’t need a gun. He was an anti-aircraft cannon.

  “Alright,” Manuel said. His previously normal-looking shoulders cycled open with a series of soft hydraulic sighs, venting heat, before sealing shut. His hand reassembled itself. "Think Haider will let me keep the pelt if I bag it? A wolf jacket would be cool. Thick fur."

  “You’re going to kill Wolfie? But he’s harmless!” Kelly asked, horrified. She stepped between Manuel and the scorch mark. “He’s even weaker than the cub!”

  “Yeah. That means we can sell his corpse to practically anyone. He’s unique. Mutated, evolved, part-human, magically teleports. Humans can’t do that. His body’s worth billions.” He gestured at the empty space where the creature had fled.

  “I’m stopping you right there.” Kelly moved, putting herself in the line where Manuel’s barrel had been.

  Kelly couldn’t stand the casual cruelty of condemning something that was once a person merged with an extradimensional horror. “I won’t let you kill the man-wolf. There’s a guy in there! You said it yourself. It’s a person from Earth, mixed with one of those things. A mutant! Murder is illegal!”

  “It’s not a werewolf, time-nut. And it’s not a person. It’s annoying. A pest,” Manuel said, shaking his head in exasperation. “It’s a malfunctioning bio-hazard with a vocabulary of six words. What’s left after a mind gets dissolved in alien juice. Like a corpse that forgot to lie down. A messy talking corpse that steals pets.”

  “What about human rights? What about PETA? You don’t know what those guys are capable of!” They’d lost most of their influence after the wars, practically all of it, considering the changes the wars had wrought. But against all odds, in recent years, they’d been beginning to make a comeback.

  “Again with the PETA. Who the hell is PETA, some mutant warlord? The king of mutants?” He looked around, annoyed, as if the creature could reappear any second. “You know the man-wolf is going to come back. Joe will catch it later, and then it gets sold to a lab. It’s half-human, half-whatever-falls-out-of-the-sky. That’s a one-in-a-billion mutation. He’s worth a fortune. It’s inevitable. The way I see it, this is survival of the fittest. They’ll experiment on it for decades. At least I’ll make it quick.”

  “I’m taking full charge and ownership of saving the man trapped inside the creature, and the protégé of dramatic entries he has become.” Kelly emphatically stated, her arms still crossed in refusal. “He will be the first disciple of my timegod religion—or is it cult?” she wondered aloud before continuing.

  “Either way, saving him is my full responsibility,” Kelly replied. Her rugged companion held the bridge of his nose in exasperated disbelief at her words. “I believe he can still be saved, my arms dealer, hotzone gang, ex-assassin friend.”

  He raised an eyebrow. His hand, the one that housed the CDES-12 Hand Torch cannon, flexed. “How—Who told you?”

  That he was an ex-assassin? “The brand on your arm’s interior. The one you hide behind the subdermal actuator wiring. It peeked out when your palm unfolded to vaporize Wolfie.” Kelly had caught the detail during the whole loud, fiery interruption. A specific series of scarred lines and dots. “I’ve met other people with it. Very unsavory people.”

  “I hope you killed them,” he said, picking up the chips and shards his attack had scattered across the room. “I’ve been in some… seriously fucked-up circles back in the day. People like that—they don’t give second chances.”

  Oh, she’d killed them alright. Took longer than it should have, but by then, it was more than overdue.

  "Yeah. Me too." Kelly replied. Though her answer was only half the truth. She had never belonged in those circles and had hated them all.

  Kelly and Manuel scooped up the scattered cards. They started reshuffling, as if a seven-foot, three-eyed mutated werewolf with a human arm sticking out of its chest hadn’t just attacked them, and calmly continued their game. Their attempt at a return to normalcy lasted about four seconds.

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