The plot is back lol - with a new original character, and also a short cameo of a certain dwarf rabbit :P
/TW:\ fictionnal hate speech, rather graphic imagery of murder
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He didn't see Agata as the kind to have a full-body mirror in his room, and yet. Somehow, he didn't notice it earlier. Well, he guesses that for the lion, it's not quite a full-body one, since even for him it goes from his knees to the base of his horns.
He can't seem to walk away from it, nor face his reflection either, so he just stares blankly at his shirt. Absent-mindedly pulls on it to try and hide more of his thighs. He hates to see the bandages there, the blood that has seeped through one spot, the ugly bruising. His mind already provides more than enough reminders of that night, thank you very much.
He doesn't react as Agata walks to him, his bigger body framing his. Watches as his hands get closer, stopping a few inches from his waist, hovering.
"You can touch me, you know."
"Do you want me to?"
The hybrid only leans against his chest and finally, Agata lays his hands gently just above his hips and the multiple claw marks there. It fits the fabric of his shirt to his body, highlights just how skinny he is. Melon scoffs. His gaze still fixed on the mirror.
"Beautiful", right… I say you're full of shit, kitty.
"What?" Agata asks – as if he heard his thoughts somehow.
"Do you see me as a prey?"
The lion takes one or two seconds to consider it, then lets out an awkward, not-quite-assured laugh.
"Well, no. You're way too scary for that. Why are you asking?"
He doesn't answer immediately. Then-
"Bite me."
"Eh- you- What?"
"Bite me," he repeats calmly – angling his head slightly to the side, presenting his neck.
"I'm not going to bite you, Melon."
Only then does he turn around.
"Why?"
Do you really like my body if you don't want to? When you're a lion, and I look like a gazelle? Is it too weird for you to love it like Mama loved my dad?
"Because I don't want this too to revolve around pain and blood," Agata says – and something in his voice sounds so certain and so genuine at the same time, the hybrid has nothing to add to that. "Again, why are you asking?
"Nothing." He gets out of his hold, purposely steps away from the mirror. "I have to go. Thanks for the sleepover."
From the corner of his eye, he catches Agata reaching for his arm, but he steps aside and the lion's fingers close on thin air. Melon bites back a bitter smile; dodging comes like second nature when you have a prey body.
"Where are you going?"
The question makes him pause. (Why do you care?)
"The uni," he answers. "My sick leave is over, I have two lectures scheduled today."
"Are you okay, Sensei?"
The voice prompts him to raise his head… and then look down. The one who asked, it's that little white rabbit, with the floaty smile and the sharp, determined eyes. She is clutching her bag with two hands, gazing up at him expectantly. He's annoyed by the question, however she's the only one who had the sincerity to come to him directly, so…
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."
She nods, but she stays there nonetheless, and Melon feels compelled to add:
"I was in a traffic accident; it's all good now. I even had the time to grade your assignments, didn't I?"
He gestures to the piece of paper sticking out from her bag and Haru nods again, her vague smile returning on her round face. He wants to stare at her, because this rabbit is fucking weird and therefore fascinating, but with the way she's so focused on his face she will immediately notice his feline eyes if he does. She must already have her doubts, since that day he hugged her… It feels like so long ago. The foreign urge to taste her has faded out, he would just like to chat with her some more now.
"Don't you have another class to attend, Haru-san?"
"Oh, um, actually I do! Bye, Sensei. Thanks for the lecture!"
His gaze follows her as she exits, little bunny tail peeking out just under her long sweatshirt, before he turns back to his bag and- where the fuck did my phone go? Melon swears between his teeth, searches for it for a while, and finally gives up, deciding he has left it at the mansion. He flings the bag over his shoulder, climbs down the stairs from the teacher podium. He looks back when he's about to flick the lights off. These hours at the university, all the students listening to what he has to say… It feels surreal, sometimes. The hybrid sighs, re-adjusts his mask over his face and closes the door behind him.
His mind wanders back to Agata as he walks down the emptied corridors – the bell has already rung; all the students must be in class or back to their dorms for those who live here by now. When he was ready to leave, this morning, he received a text from the lion. (Now that he thinks about it, that must be when he took his phone out of his bag and forgot to put it back in.)
"At which time does your lecture ends? We could, uh, take a walk. Or something. If you want."
He has bitten back a smile, only texted back answering the question, waited just the time to finish putting his tie on, and saw another text coming in: "So, uh, does 3 p.m sound good?"
"Sure. Just pick a meeting point discreet enough so I don't have students asking me why I'm meeting up with a lion, please."
"Sensei, can I have a moment?"
Melon stops so abruptly that he nearly trips over his foot. Has he been so much into his own head that he didn't hear someone walking behind him? Well, apparently, yes… He turns around, expecting a student that didn't dare come to him in front of the lecture hall and is now taking their chance for a private chat in the corridor – but the canine he comes face to face with… she doesn't look like a student.
She's obviously into her forties, and her navy-blue suit reads as too expensive for someone on a student allowance to afford. The silver buttons glisten under the artificial light. Her large shoulders and short bristle fur, white as a spotless sheet, coupled with how straight she's holding herself, it all gives her a sort of military look. Only her droopy long ears clash with that picture. Melon furrows his brow. He feels like he has seen this face before. Is she part of the university staff? Or…?
"Who are you?" he asks, going back to her face.
"I am an auditor on some courses that are taught here. My name is Grace."
She has tainted glasses that he can barely make out her eyes through – but he just knows she's looking straight into his. She's almost as tall as the Shishigumis, except she isn't hunching as they usually do. No, next to her rigid figure, he feels small.
His stomach churns, muscles tensing up, ready.
"And what do you want, Miss Grace?" he continues, voice pleasant – none of his unease seeps through, he makes sure of that.
The canine cocks her head to the side, something akin to amusement creeping across her features. Her glasses slide down her muzzle, revealing blood-red eyes.
"Our contact was a female dog, an albino bloodhound, she-"
The leopard's panicked blabbering echoes in his mind.
He's suddenly very aware that he is trapped between the wall and her large frame, empty-handed, in a deserted university corridor. His heart begins to race. You'll die there, whispers the gazelle inside him. It's useless to fight back. He has his gun and a cutter in his bag, but he doesn't think he could get to it quickly enough. Slowly, he reaches up, pretending to adjust his mask – ready to take it off, bare the natural weapons his mama was gracious enough to leave him with. Hoping it could be enough to change a prey's fate.
"What do I want?" she parrots, smiling – showing her own set of teeth. "First, an unmarred learning environment for the adults of tomorrow."
"Do y-" he tries to say but his voice cracks.
She shoves him against the wall, faster than he could react. Pain shoots across his ribcage, and the bloodhound's palm keeps pressing against the cracked bones, making him pant.
"Your mixed blood reeks", she growls into his ear.
Darkness spots his vision and his mind clears.
"I will advise you to step aside, Miss, or else we're going to see how pretty your pure blood is, splattered across these walls."
It's lucky she's taller because, like this, Melon has perfect access to her neck. His fangs rest just over her carotid. Pressing delicately into the skin.
She wouldn't even have the time to bat an eye before he tears her throat out.
The warmth of her blood filling his mouth, gushing out with each beat of her rapidly-failing heart, the coppery smell the hybrid loves enough that he makes out for the lack of taste – the way her hands would grip his arms in a desperate attempt, loosening with each second ticking by, her breath gurgling as the blood fills her trachea, as she chokes on it – her red eyes wide and panicked and pleading, but it's too late, the arteria has already been ripped open, there is no way out but death. He can almost see her lifeless body sprawled out onto the floor, laying in a crimson puddle, how her navy-blue suit would soak it up; fantasizes about the sight of her throat shredded by his predator teeth, bloody bubbles over the torn airway. His body trembles with anticipation, muscles locking up, his nails digging into her hip. Bloodlust threatens to bring him over the edge.
The pressure against his chest is released as Grace lets her arm falls back to her sides.
"If you kill me there, you can say goodbye to your job and all of your pretend life. Let me go."
He does and she steps away from him, her hastiness betraying the calmness of her tone. They stare at each other, and the hybrid's tongue peeks out, licking at his lips, as his discarded mask hangs from two fingers. He can see the bloodhound's features twist in disgust – and something else, something he knows so well and he loves to witness – sweet, delicious fear.
"Next time, Miss, remember the freak can bite too."
She readjusts the collar of her suit, pushes her glasses up as her face falls back into her collected demeanor.
"I will, be sure of that. Because we will meet again, how many times necessary."
"Necessary for what? Killing me?" He leans casually against the wall – his valid hand has slithered into his bag, closing against the reassuring handle of his gun. "Good luck, you won't be the first one to try."
"I know. You're a hard one to dispose of. My predecessors failed, and we lost your trace for eight years. It's only lucky I can smell out your kind."
Predecess- eight… what? What the fuck is she talking about?
"Surely you remember," Grace adds, smiling at his obvious confusion. "Their… incompetence is what allowed you to be declared dead and fly under society's radar."
The memory starts to piece itself together in his mind. It was a dog and a crocodile – an unlikely duo, especially since predatory offenders usually hunted alone; maybe that alone should have tipped him off. The second clue probably was that they didn't seem at all surprised to find that their little harmless prey could bare its teeth – except they already knew.
The hybrid can't hold back a shiver. It's one thing to know you don't have a place in this world and that most animals, deep down, would want you gone, but it's another completely to know you've been hunted – the mindless violence is predictable and easy to counter, this… precise, almost surgical operation, it's on a completely new level.
He realizes with a jolt that Grace is walking away.
"Who are you?" he asks once again, almost shouting to be heard by her retreating form.
She stops. Looks over her shoulder.
"Someone willing to bear the weight of their duty and purify animal society."
"From criminals?"
She smooths her suit with one hand and raises her glasses onto her head, looking him straight in the eyes. Her chops pull up in what couldn't be furthest away from a smile.
"Oh no… Every city needs its low life, it's part of the equilibrium. No, me and mine, we are after what shouldn't have existed in the first place. We are the Chimera Hunters," she adds, still smiling – something proud, that only bares her teeth and doesn't reach her eyes. "If you prefer, we are after 'freaks', as you seem to have already labeled yourself as." She sneers. "At least you're aware of just what you are."
He is used to the name-calling, to the insults and dirty looks, to the bullying, the disgusted faces and the eyes that turn away as if they couldn't bear to even look at his chimera body – used to the fear, the unease, the pity, the revulsion. But you can't get used to the glacial hatred swimming in those blood-red eyes.
This animal, she wants hybrids like him to never have been born, she wishes them dead, and she is ready to take matters into her own hands. Ready to stalk and maim and kill, coldly and methodically, to drown her spotless white coat in mixed blood, and not for her sake or profit, not even for her own amusement, no, but because she believes with every fiber of her being that the only acceptable hybrid is a dead one.
She terrifies him.
He knows bloodhounds are known to be some of the more persistent of animals – and this one, she isn't just a serial killer; rather an executioner appointed by her own beliefs and hatred. He will have to kill her – he doesn't want to, not anymore, doesn't want anything to have to do with her, as long as he is kept under her bloody gaze the hunter in him is drowned out by the prey – but if he doesn't, she will have his head.
(He suddenly realizes where he has seen her face before; on the poster, back at Gouhin's clinic, when he was just coming around after that night. She's, officially, a social worker. It's even more ironic than him teaching about the great carbi-herbi war.)
She said she could track him down by scent alone and that, he can't hide it, no mask will be enough this time around. He wonders how much she gathered about his life already. Does she know about Agata? Does she-
His blood runs cold.
Slowly, the puzzle pieces fall into place – and the picture they make together is nauseating.
The attack on Gouhin's clinic means there is a group involved that doesn't belong to the Back-Alley Market – namely, Grace's – and yet, they knew about him being there just a few days ago; so, either the leopards or the lions spilled it out. Also, the spotted bastards knew that carnivore-herbivore hybrids like him lack any sense of taste – which is not common knowledge – but somehow at the same time weren't quite aware of how resistant their bodies were. Either the same someone who tipped them off on the first part left the second one out, or they had instructions to leave him alive. Both mean the same thing, and both check out with what Grace said: she and her followers have their own methods of, ultimately, killing their prey, and they do it themselves. So, why the leopards? Was it merely a warning, or… was it a way to get a pawn closer to him?
(He doesn't want to think of the young lion like that, he really doesn't, but it makes more sense. What, the first person that ever cares about who he truly is, would be the very same one he stabbed once and threaten regularly? Please.)
Maybe Agata isn't linked yet to the Chimera Hunters, but even though they will hear of his existence, if they haven't already, and they will take advantage of it. It's just such an easy weak link in his life. The one thing he isn't in control of.
It takes several minutes for his brain to connect back to his body, to command his legs to start moving again. He needs to exit the university. To go back to th- no, he's supposed to meet Agata in – he glances at the clock over one lecture hall door – ten minutes.
Well, fuck.
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So, here are the Chimera Hunters, properly introduced :P
