Chapter 2 - Ambitions

"This must be the place," Miguel said to himself, having taken a late night Uber to a seemingly abandoned dock somewhere in Santa Clara. Thanking the driver for taking him here, he got himself out of the car, rated his experience and review, and began to make his way into the darkness of the night. Normally, he shouldn't be out here all alone, especially at night. He was always warned that he would get mugged or be stabbed or anything like that to scare him out of sneaking out at night. This time, however, he couldn't get himself to sleep, not that it mattered anyway. He kept hearing more voices in his head, so much that it caused him to inadvertently transform briefly, before quickly reverting back to his normal state. Something told him to come here, and he felt that he had no choice but to oblige. He had to figure out what was happening, and why this was happening to him and his brother.

Those voices he heard, it led him here; an abandoned dock. The place has since been lost and forgotten for a good while now, so he heard. Apparently, from rumors, this dock was once owned by a famous company, mainly known for exports of manga, posters, and anything that came from Japan. They would then distribute the goods to Japanese stores present here in California. Though technology has evolved, and thanks to online shopping and deliveries, the business was doomed to go bankrupt, and they abandoned the dock, never to return to it again. Of course, they were all just rumors, but the fact that the place has still been abandoned and forgotten to this day sends shivers down his spine.

Nonetheless, however, he had a job to do. He was looking for answers, and the voices told him to come here. Perhaps there was something, or rather someone, who can at least give him a better understanding of what he's going through, and why this was happening to him. The gated entrance to the dock was bolted shut. He didn't have any bolt cutters on him, and there weren't any holes large enough in the metal gate to crawl through. It was clear that the direct route inside wasn't going to work, and he needed to find another way around.

"So the direct route inside isn't going to break it," he spoke to himself, his hand on his chin, pondering what to do next, "but there has got to be another way inside."

Scanning around the dock carefully, he was quick to notice that on the other side of the dock, there was an opening inside of the port that led to the warehouse nearby, big enough for him to crawl through carefully, allowing Miguel another sigh of relief. Unfortunately for him, it would mean submerging himself in the seawater just to get to the other side, climb up onto the platform and get through, and even though the water level was low so that his whole body wouldn't get submerged, it would still mean getting himself wet.

Miguel then let out a frustrated groan. He wasn't about to get his new shoes wet just for the sake of getting what he wanted. Yet, he also knew that this was the only way to get himself inside without anybody spotting him trespassing. He felt conflicted in his thoughts, he was getting close to what he wanted, he couldn't just give up now. He needed those answers, and he needed them as soon as possible. With another frustrated groan, and kicking the fence out of frustration, he decided that he was just gonna have to go with it, and slowly but surely made his way into the water and trudged his way to the platform.

Unfortunately for him, he underestimated just how cold the seawater could be, especially at night time, the moment his legs made contact with the freezing water, it caused Miguel to lock in place, wanting to yell out just because of how cold it was. It was almost below freezing in here, so much that it was almost like skinny dipping in the waters of Antarctica. He wanted to scream, but he had to keep himself quiet, and man up. He's faced worse conditions before, he wasn't about to let something like this give away what he was doing.

Trudging his way through the ocean water, he could feel the seaweed and other sorts of stuff go on his legs and off. It felt nerve-wracking to him, as it always has. Sure he liked to go for swims in the ocean, but he absolutely despised the amount of seaweed getting wrapped up around his legs, and the constant waves the ocean would throw at him. He just hated it so much. He was lucky that the ocean was calm tonight, but there were still small waves being thrown at him, which ended up with his body and clothing getting soaked by the ice water. At last, however, he had made it to the platform. Not wanting to deal with the ocean any more longer than he has to, he made no hesitation as he climbed up onto the platform.

The winds of night only made things worse. At that moment he just couldn't bear it any longer, as he then began to roll around in frustration and in cold as he began to curse to himself. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He called out, as he began to quickly make his way through the hole in the fence, throwing his waterproof backpack over the fence as he crawled through. "Jesus, fuck!" he called out to himself again, as he then ducked behind one of the cargo containers of the port.

Opening his backpack, he then pulled out a towel and a change of clothes, quickly drying himself as much as he could so that he was nice and dry, and then took off his soaked clothes, threw them inside the backpack, and got into his new clothing. At that moment, the warmth of the new clothes began to settle in, allowing Miguel for a sigh of pure relief and relaxation. He also brought his heavy jacket, which will really keep him warm for a good while too.

"Much better," he spoke to himself, slowly putting on his change of socks and shoes, when his moment of reprise was interrupted by footsteps away from his position. His quick reaction time caused him to turn around to see who it was, but even so, there was nobody there, at least, they weren't there anymore.

He shook a little bit in fear; was it possible that somebody was following him all along? Just the thought of that made him shudder more in fear. Yet he had gotten so far, and he had already made it to the port. He had reached the point of no return. He had to keep going, despite the dangers that await him. Nodding to himself, he grabbed his things, dusted himself off, and began his trek.

After a bit of walking, he was where the voices told him to go now. He wasn't far from it now, the warehouse. He began to have a gut feeling that going into a place like this with his guard down will very likely result in him either getting injured or killed, so he had to keep his guard up if he wanted to get out of this in one piece. Shaking in fear, he nodded to himself before making his way inside of the warehouse. He was here to get the answers to his questions, and then he was gonna book it out of here.

Darkness surrounded the area of the warehouse, as expected from a place that has been abandoned for a long while now. Even with the knowledge that it's been left and forgotten, however, it still gives him chills; he's never truly been inside of somewhere that's been left to be forgotten and abandoned. Nobody even cares about this place anymore. So why was it that he was led to there? Perhaps here lay the answers to his questions? Or maybe it was all some sort of setup to lead him into a trap? Even he did not know for sure.

Pulling out a flashlight, he began to examine the area. Wooden boxes scattered all over the place, as well as papers regarding safety precautions, documents of bill of sales, and other sorts of paper scrap were all over the floor. Not to mention, the numerous tools and utilities that were present in the area. It was clear that this place was left to be forgotten for a long time now, or maybe it was evacuated for some reason. Perhaps unsafe conditions, or something went terribly wrong here, and they were forced to get the hell out while they still could. His theory was proven correct, when he then encountered the corpse of a dead person, almost making him gag.

As he explored what remained of the large warehouse, he began to ponder to himself, delving into the thoughts of his consciousness. What if somebody found out that he was a monster? What would happen then, and what would become of him? These thoughts saddened him, so much that tears began to form in his eyes. He couldn't imagine it; best case scenario, all the talk shows would have a field day with something like that. His presence will be known to the world, and he'll become famous for it. Or, worst case scenario, the government will track him down and capture him.

He would be placed in a lab, at the mercy of the scientists. They would definitely have a field day with someone like him. The amount of experiments they would conduct on him, and the worst thing they'll do is a live autopsy on him. Those thoughts only saddened him more, as he then collapsed to the ground, and weeped. They wouldn't kill him, at least, not right away. It was better to have a live specimen than a dead one. The world will know of the existence of monsters, and the government will have them all killed. One by one. Including his brother.

He couldn't take it anymore. He didn't want to be a monster. He just wanted his life back the way it was: normal. He just wanted to get through life without anything or anyone making things worse for him. He just wanted his old life back. He knew, however, that this was not going to happen, ever. This was the path he was forced to go through, and now he must suffer the consequences of them. He was a monster now, and there was nothing he could do about it, except to move on and adapt to his new life.

The scent, it was back again. It reeked of blood, only this time, it was fresh, as if somebody was killed just recently. "Something's not right here," Miguel thought out loud, as he then got himself back up onto his feet, wiped his face of the tears, and began to trace the smell. He wasn't sure how or why, but his sense of smell somehow got stronger, much more efficient compared to that of a dog's sense of smell. He was able to trace scents from farther ranges, and be able to tell exactly what he's smelling. This scent of blood, it was still fresh, like somebody was killed just mere hours ago. He had to know whose blood it was, and quickly.

The scent he traced had led him to a nearby room, with a faint light glowing inside of it on the other side of the door. Miguel could feel the chill running down his spine, sweating a bit in fear and stress, but he had to remain calm. A calm mind is the best mind he could have at the moment; a stressed mind was the worst kind of mind he could have. With a stressed mind, he couldn't focus, he would fear everything he sees. After hesitating for a brief moment, and letting out a shocked sigh, he swung open the door to the room, and in that moment, he wished he didn't, for what lay in the front of the room left him in complete devastation.

It was his father. His father's corpse. He was dead, no doubt about it. Somebody had gotten to him and killed him with no mercy in mind. Blood was all over his father, except for his face, which remained clean. His clothes were soaked in his own blood, open wounds of stabs and bruises were present. Miguel was forced to stare, tears once again forming in his eyes, as he was forced to stare at the lifeless corpse that was his father. He couldn't believe it. He didn't believe it. He didn't want to believe that his father, who has been with him all his life, was dead. The evidence was all there, however. His father was dead, and even if he knew that his father was going to die, there was nothing he could have done in his power to stop or prevent it.

A note. There was a note on him. It looked as if he had written it moments before he was killed by the assailant. He had to know what was on there in his final moments. Wiping off the tears from his eyes, he approached the corpse of his father and took the note from his cold hand, but not before giving in to his emotions and hugging the corpse of his father. "I'm sorry, papa," he said to himself, sobbing as he mourned the loss of his father. After a few moments, he got up, and without any form of hesitation, he looked at the note his father had left him.

"To whom it may concern, my time is up. They figured out that I know about them, and now they are going to kill me. It was her, she's alive. It won't be long before she finds me and mercilessly kills me. It was a good thing that I managed to learn how to understand and write English thanks to my youngest son. To anyone who finds this note on me after my time has come to pass, please find my two sons. Let them know that danger is upon them, and unless they are already aware of their newfound powers and transformations, that they will die. Please. Miguel, my son, should it be fate that you are the one to find this note, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I failed to let you know about your power, your transformation. I'm sorry, but my fate was sealed the day I met her. Forgive your foolish father, find the coins, and piece the truth together...because this was all a setup…"

"A setup?" Miguel spoke to himself, still saddened over his father's death, "but who in the world would go to such a length like this to set up something like this?"

"What a shame; that old fool had no idea what hit him. I was hoping that you wouldn't come here and find him, and yet you did."

A voice suddenly came from behind, as well as the rushing of footsteps coming at him. Fearing the worst, Miguel turned around and saw what looked like a woman, dressed completely in black, coming at him with a switchblade. She then took a swing at him with the switchblade in hand, but Mguel was quick to avoid the strike, and retaliated by kicking her right in the stomach area, knocking her back and away from him, but was also quick to recover.

"Who are you?!" Miguel shouted at the woman in black, rage fueling the way he reacted toward the assault, "Are you the one responsible for my father's death, you bitch?!"

She only chuckled at his demands. "Your father was just the beginning," she began, a devious smirk appearing on her face, "but I didn't kill him. No, I helped in finishing him off, as well as several others who helped to kill him. I guess you can say it was a team effort."

She laughed at her own joke, further fueling Miguel's hatred toward her. He just wanted to wrap his fingers around her slim neck and snap it. "Of course, what does it matter to you anyway?" She questioned him, that same smirk appearing on her face again, "Now you know too much, and now you shall share your father's fate."

She charged at him once again, lunging herself forward, preparing another strike at him. He was quick to react once again, and managed to block the strike she tried to do at him. Unfortunately, he was too late to notice her other fist coming right at him, completely different from her other arm. It was a black arm, with crimson veins flowing through it. "What the-!?" Miguel thought to himself, moments before her fist had made contact with his chest, with enough force to send him flying and making a collision with the concrete wall.

She just laughed at the sight of this. "And he said that you would be powerful!" she hollered out to him, as he struggled to get back up, "What a joke! You really are quite pathetic, but I didn't think you would be this pathetic! Is that really all you've got?"

Miguel eventually got himself up, and just watched as she taunted him. He knew what was up, though. She was a monster, just like he was. She clearly had no idea of what his transformation was, and the potential for how powerful it could become. With just that knowledge in mind, Miguel had his head down, and let out a smirk. It wasn't the best option in the world, but he had no choice. He was fighting for his life now, and his actions and attacks will determine the outcome of who lives and who dies.

"No, but thank you for asking," Miguel replied to her question, "because I'm just getting started." With that, the woman looked at him, confused at his response. He made direct eye contact with his enemy, moments before he quickly and smoothly transformed into his new form, the dog mascot with the gun. The sight of the transformation caught the woman off-guard, shocked at the fact that he, too, can transform. She too was too late to notice Miguel charging at her, and with a gasp, Miguel struck her with a roundhouse kick, sending her flying and hitting one of the wooden boxes, with enough force to break it. She lay there, struggling to regain composure and stand back up, as she made eye contact with the transformed Miguel. A bit of fear lay in her eyes, Miguel could tell.

"What incredible strength," she thought to herself, hesitating to make her next move on him, "I've never experienced such raw power before, let alone for a transformation that looks like a fucking furry."

A bit of blood was falling from her mouth, as she then took notice and wiped it off. She wasn't going to let some guy that can transform into a fucking furry push her around. Just the thought of losing to one made her blood boil. She will not be humiliated because of it, and she will kill him, showing no form of mercy after his retaliation.

"YOU BASTARD!" She screamed at him, lunging directly at him and knocking him down, and would then proceed to land right on top of me, throwing punch after punch, attempting to beat him to death. At the fifth punch, however, Miguel grabbed the fist, causing the woman to become shocked at this sight. She tried to hit him again using her other fist, but resulted in the same thing. He then raised his legs right at the area of the stomach, and with a growl, pushed her off of him, sending her flying once again, and hitting a petrol tank, causing the contents to leak out of it.

"Why you little shit!" She bickered at him, but before she could finish, a fist struck her face, as Miguel managed to run up to her. He began to strike her numerous times in different parts of the face and the stomach, causing her face to bleed as well. It wasn't long before she used the same trick as he did on her, propping her legs up to his chest, and kicking him away from her. She was exhausted and weak, and she wasn't going to give up now. She was going to finish this, once and for all.

"I've had enough of this!" She yelled out at him, as she then pulled out a gun on him. She was determined to put an end to this now. "Game over!" She yelled out again, as she began to laugh in a cynical way. This was it. This was the checkmate. There was absolutely nothing Miguel could possibly do now, except to stand there and accept his fate. And how Miguel stood there, alright, except with an unamused look on his face.

This alone just left her even more confused. "Didn't you hear me?" She yelled out to him again, "You're gonna die here, and I will be the victor! It was fate that I was going to win all along, because luck is on the side of Naomi Natashi! Hail to the Chosen!"

Miguel still just stood there, completely unamused, but except now there was a smile on his face. He chuckled to himself, as he pulled out a recorder from his pocket. "Looks like I managed to make you talk," he said to her, still smiling as she realized what she had just done, "And now it's all here, on this recorder. A life, for a life."

With that, Miguel just nodded, and began to walk away from the scene, reverting back to his normal human form. She just stood there, unwilling to believe that she just managed to give away her own name and who she possibly worked for. She looked down at herself, how stuppid she was. She just did that. All of that, and it was all thanks to him. Now he had a possible lead, and the coin in his hand, the yellow coin, the one she was tasked in retrieving. Rage was overtaking her control, her teeth pressing each other. At that last moment, that sense of defeat, she completely lost it, having snapped from the thoughts.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" She screamed out at him, as she pulled out her gun again and took aim, ready to pull the trigger and end his life. She would destroy the recorder, to rid of any trace that they could possibly use to track her down, and she would leave the kid here to succumb to his bullet wound. It was perfect; she'll take the coin off of his dead body, and her mission would be complete. Nothing stood between her and him, it was all perfect, and it will work!

BANG!

A bullet hit the petrol tank. In those last moments for her, it was as if time had slowed for her, as she looked at where the bullet hit. She would open her mouth to try and scream, but it was too late. The tanker exploded upon the bullet making impact with the tank, the spark igniting the petrol, and causing an explosion, the flames engulfing her as she screamed in absolute pain and terror. It was done.

The powerful flames of the explosions were enough to have the wooden supports and anything that was flammable to get caught in flames, so much that now, the whole warehouse was on fire. Miguel just sighed in a sad manner as he then began to take his leave, moments before spotting another young woman, laying on the cold, hard surface of the concrete floor. He went up to her to check on her. She was alive, but unconscious. Seeing as he had no choice, he grabbed the woman, resting her in his arms, and proceeded to carry the young woman out of the warehouse, as it soon began to collapse.

What stood in front of him now was his brother, carrying the service weapon that was currently taking the form of the pistol, which he nicknamed as "Grip," along with his SUV that was parked nearby. He was also carrying a pair of bolt cutters, lucky him. He was able to take the direct approach to this, while Miguel had to take the other route. He was glad to see him, and just in time too. Before he came here, he had told Ivan that he needed to get to the warehouse, and when prompted why, he simply replied that he was hearing voices to go there, believing that it may have some of the answers they were looking for, and that if things got awry, that he would come here too.

"Nice shot back there," He said to him, to which his brother let out a scoff and a smile, "Had it not been for that, I probably would have been killed for sure."

His brother chuckled at his response, smiling all the while, until that said smile soon faded from his face, and looking back at his younger brother. "Did you find what you were looking for though?" He said to him, worried that this whole thing could have been for nothing, in which his younger brother just sighed and looked at him.

"Yeah, I did." He simply responded to his question, letting out another deep sigh. "It's just that," he continued, but ultimately stopped himself. Was he really going to lay out the truth to his brother about their father and that he's dead? He couldn't just lie to him either, because he will find out sooner or later. Facing a mental dilemma, he would let out another sigh, getting his bearings out of the way, and looking straight at his brother in the eyes. He was going to tell him the truth. He had to.

"Ivan," he began, "you're not going to like what I have to say next…"