Author's Note

NOT A DEAD FIC!

Hey guys. Sorry for the HUGE wait.
Between being insanely busy at work, a whole ton of health issues, and the worst case of writers block in years, I haven't been able to devote much time to fics.

But hopefully that's all on the turn now. I'm back!

Now before we return to our regularly scheduled "Purple Horse Thinks a Lot and Monologues" show, I hope you'll indulge me this short interlude.

Interlude: Human-ish Resources

Interlude
Human-ish Resources

Mrs Henson

Present

Mrs Henson took a deep gulp of scotch. As a founding member and senior partner of Woll, Henson, and Cox, Lincoln’s largest private law firm, she thought she had seen everything, but this recent surprise update from Teddy was a paradigm shift of world-shattering proportions. If she was honest, she had hardly thought about her godson in the last two years. She made sure his bills were paid and checked in, briefly, every three or four months to make sure he was comfortable but, otherwise, he was out of sight, out of mind. To get a call from him, out of the blue, in the middle of the night was incredible enough. But then to receive the files…

She downed the last of her drink and was opening her laptop just as the other partners at the firm filed into the boardroom and took their seats. She took a deep breath and stood. ‘Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for meeting on such short notice. I know we’re all very busy, but something has come up that, I assure you, takes priority.’

The assembled board straightened up. Between them they covered all manner of top priority cases from contesting high court rulings to billion-dollar property contracts. For something to take priority over everything else was unheard of.

‘Late last night, I received a call from Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy.’

Mister Woll, the firm’s other senior partner, cocked a brow. ‘Has something happened with young Teddy? Has his condition deteriorated?’

Mrs Henson frowned. ‘That… is a very difficult question to answer, David. The call was from Teddy. He’s awake.’

A susurration of happy surprise filled the room. ‘Awake after five years in a coma? And already speaking? Sarah, that amazing news! Miraculous even!’

‘”Miraculous” is certainly one word for it.’ Mrs Henson rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘I’ve been running around like a headless chicken since last night verifying everything Teddy has shown me and making sure news doesn’t get out.’

‘Why? What happened?’

Mrs Henson braced herself and turned on the overhead projector. ‘For the last five years, Teddy’s condition remained unchanged. Then, early on the first of this month,’ She clicked to the first slide, projecting a photo of Teddy’s bare thigh. ‘An attending orderly noticed these. An identical picture on each thigh. According to the same orderly, the marks weren’t there the night before when he was conducting his final rounds.’

‘So, someone snuck into his room in the middle of the night and tattooed his legs?’ Ms Pertwee, one of the firm’s younger partners chimed in.

‘No. Security cameras in the hall confirmed the orderly was the last one out and first one into the room. Neither time was he in there long enough to do anything. Furthermore, tests conducted by the medical staff,’ Mrs Henson clicked to the next slide showing a toxicology and bacteriology report. ‘Revealed no trace of ink, or bacterial infection.’

‘So, what,’ Mister Chang, another junior partner frowned. ‘Are you saying they just appeared? By themselves?’

Mrs Henson looked him dead in the eye. ‘Yes. And trust me, it gets stranger from there. I’m going to preface this next part by saying, I’ve had our analysts on the third floor go over this footage frame by frame. As far as they can tell, it is not CGI, nor has the footage been doctored in any detectable way. Now, it’s footage taken over the course of three days. For the sake of this meeting, I’ve sped it up to just a minute. The full, unedited footage will be made available to all of you when we conclude here. Brace yourselves.’

With another click, a timelapse video of an unconscious Teddy in his hospital room began to play. Doctors, orderlies, and technicians flitted in and out of frame. Light chased dark across the room as the days passed by. And, right before the assembled partners’ eyes, the comatose young man expanded, twisted, and changed. By the time the video stopped, a purple, vaguely horse-like thing lay where Teddy had just one minute prior.

‘What in God’s name?’

‘Has to be fake.’

‘It’s a magic trick, surely.’

Mrs Henson sat down and steepled her fingers. ‘It is, as far as our best analysts can tell, very real. And it’s backed up by hundreds of pages of doctor’s reports, lab results, and recorded testimonials that we’re still combing through. They don’t yet know how, but over the course of three days, Theodore Cox transformed into what you see before you. Yesterday, Teddy woke up. With none of the usual signs of brain damage typical of patients waking from a long coma, I might add.’

The room was silent for several seconds.

Mister Woll leaned forward. ‘Before we get to the litany of questions, I’m sure we all have, you said you spoke to him, Sarah? How did he sound?’

Mrs Henson sat back and allowed herself to relax a little. With the big bombshell dropped, they could start to get into the nitty-gritty. Any good lawyer’s comfort zone. ‘Different, in a word. I actually received a few calls from Teddy over the course of the night. When I was sceptical during the first call, he video called the second time. That’s another reason I’m sure the video you just saw was genuine. I should actually correct myself. I’ve been using male pronouns this whole time. As you’ll see in the lab results, I’ll send you all after this meeting, this strange transformation came complete with a full biological gender change. Physically, at least, “he” is now a “she.”’

Murmurs.

Ms Pertwee raised her hand. ‘How can we be sure it’s even Mister Cox? Assuming we suspend all common sense and disbelief and say that footage is genuine, isn’t it just as reasonable to assume he was replaced, rather than transformed? Like a… fungus or invasive species that consumes and replaces the host? I mean,’ she glanced around the room. ‘We’ve all seen that John Carpenter movie, right?’

Mrs Henson shrugged. ‘We can’t rule out anything yet. But, for what it’s worth, the doctors did run tests for fungi. They even flew in a leading expert on just that. All tests came back negative for any known genus of fungus. And, while he- sorry. She sounded different. Her choice of words and general mannerisms were all very “Teddy.” She even did that thing where she forgets you’re there for a moment and stares off into a corner of the room, muttering to herself as she follows a train of thought.’

‘I couldn’t help but notice the caveat, “any known genus.”’ Said Mister Woll. ‘Were you implying an unknown kind?’

‘Thank you, David. I was getting to that.’ Mrs Henson clicked to another slide showing a report covered in several red “inconclusive” stamps. ‘The doctors at the hospital have been nothing if not thorough. They even enlisted several experts in various fields ranging from toxicology to genetic engineering. Their conclusions thus far?’ She reached behind her and tapped the projection covered in “inconclusive” stamps.

‘Not only have they been unable to determine how or why this has happened, but they can’t honestly tell what Teddy is now. She bears no genetic markers of any species known to modern science. All they can say for certain is that a young, comatose man with minimal brain activity, nerve damage, and severely atrophied muscles, who needed a ventilator just to breath, is now fully conscious, perfectly cognisant, and completely healthy. Just different. Which brings me to the point of this meeting.’ Mrs Henson turned off the projector and stood.

‘Whatever else they may currently be, Theodore Cox is still our client. So, ladies and gentlemen. What do we think, and what do we do going forward?’

E.R.I.S

Early May

In a sense, it was easy to think E.R.I.S Enterprises practically ran the world. The reason it was able to do this was because the world at large didn't know the true extent of E.R.I.S.’s reach. But E.R.I.S. was the parent company to parent companies, and the major shareholder in businesses with subsidiaries all over the world. It had its fingers in everything from software development and fossil fuels to GMO's and reality TV. There were, maybe, half a dozen organisations around the world as wealthy, but none had such a diverse portfolio or network of connections.

It was also one of the most prominent U.S. military contractors, having cornered the market on non-lethal capture devices. Both for living hostiles and enemy tech, like drones or missiles. The "official" reason for this being a dead enemy can't be interrogated. A destroyed drone can't be studied and reused. Why waste the resources? The unofficial reason, for those with clearance high enough to learn it, was that the company's founder, Mister Ezekiel Reid Irving Stone, was a conspiracy theorist, utterly convinced that an alien invasion was imminent. And when it happened, he intended to capitalise on the opportunity provided.

Most wrote this off as a quirk. What rich genius didn’t have eccentricities? Alien invasion conspiracies were far from the strangest obsession one of the uber-rich could come down with.

But then April first rolled around. Multiple E.R.I.S. compounds and facilities were discretely outfitted with secure animal cages, stocked up with a ridiculous array of proprietary capture tech, and extensive medical equipment. The executive security detail were given mandatory crash courses in animal capture and containment. The IT and communications heads were tasked with monitoring all E.R.I.S. software- enabled systems for random key words and unusual activity.

Mister Bennett, head of E.R.I.S security, knew they were gearing up for something. And, on May second, he finally found out what.

'Mister Bennett!' One of the IT guys ran into the security office, his pudgy face flushed with excitement. 'We got a hit, Sir. Someone in Illinois posted on social media using seven of the listed key words and phrases!'

He grinned and thrust a sheet of paper into Mister Bennett’s hands. The security head cocked a brow as he scanned the print-out.

Hey guys, Ava here with another update. I told you yesterday, I had to cut my TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY party short because something weird happened. Well, more weirdness happened today. And I think I need some second opinions. While I don't remember it happening, my friends told me I spaced out for a good two minutes, right out of nowhere. Right in the middle of a conversation. I mean, I've daydreamed before. Who hasn't? But I've never completely LOST TIME. It was unnerving enough that I had to go home to calm down.

When I was getting ready for bed, I realised my mini blackout might not have been so mini. I have friggin CUTIE MARKS! Like, right out of MY LITTLE PONY! They weren't there before I blacked out. They wouldn't wash off. I have no idea where they came from. Even now, a day later, they haven't faded in the slightest. I think they're real.

I think, insane as it sounds, something MAGICAL is going on because, five minutes before making this post, I noticed my hair and eyes have begun to change colour. Right in front of me!

What the HAY is going on?! Am I CURSED, or am I just going crazy? I could really use advice here, guys.

'I don’t know.' Mister Bennett scratched his chin and reread the paper a few more times. 'This could just be one of those RP things. They're all over the internet these days.'

'Could be.' The IT guy nodded. 'But the new protocol says any more than four listed keywords or terms requires investigation. And two of the terms used in that post are flagged as top priority.'

Mister Bennett sighed and levered himself up out of his chair. 'Alright. Forward this to Stone's PA and send me the address.'

Two hours later, Mister Bennett was on a private jet to Illinois. He was a consummate professional. A six-figure salary, plus benefits, earned a lot of loyalty with few questions asked. But, Mister Bennett mused, all this nonsense about talking ponies and cutie marks and curses had him just a little curious.

~~~

As midnight struck, Mister Bennett rendezvoused with the Illinois branch of the E.R.I.S. security team. After a quick debrief, they were geared up and closing in on the address the social media post had originated from like a well-oiled machine.

It was just a normal looking house in the suburbs. Utterly unremarkable. But they had been instructed to prepare for anything.

Mister Bennett adjusted the strap on his night vision goggles, ensuring they were secure on his forehead, and flicked the safety on his shotgun. 'Everyone in position?'

A round of affirmatives.

'Safeties off. Lead with electroshock rounds, then the sedatives. Subdue and bag anyone in the house. I want us in and out in ninety seconds. Caldwell, cut the power to the block in three, two, one.' As one, the E.R.I.S security team pulled their night vision goggles into place and closed in on the house.

Mister Bennett led the assault, booting down the front door and making a beeline for the living room while the rest of the team fanned out to cover everywhere else. The second he entered the room, a woman rose, and barely had time to turn when an electroshock slug was unloaded right into her centre of mass. She didn't even get a chance to make a sound.

Mister Bennett had stuck her with a medical grade tranquiliser, secured her hands and covered her head with a heavy canvas bag by the time the rest of the team returned, sixty seconds later, carrying a bound male.

'Clear?'

'Clear.'

Mister Bennett shouldered the woman and nodded. 'Move out. Caldwell, give us twenty seconds, then restore the power.'

The security team poured out of the house and closed the door. Twenty seconds later power returned to the lazy suburb, and all was quiet, as though nothing had happened at all.

Mister Bennett took a deep breath and braced himself. An off-the-books stealth op was child’s play. Now came the hard part. He had to call Mister Stone.

~~~

Mister Stone was a man made of edges. A sharp, hooked nose, an angular jaw, with slightly pointed ears gave him a bird-like, almost inhuman profile. His neatly pressed and expertly tailored suit accentuated his skeletal frame, and his long, bony hands always seemed to have more joints than they should. Those who saw him for the first time often mistook him for a frail old man. As if a stiff breeze could knock him off his feet, and he’d shatter like glass. But then they looked into his eyes. His gray and green, mismatched eyes burned with a manic energy that immediately quelled any doubt that this was a man to be respected and feared.

‘Are you sure, Mister Bennett? You’ve confirmed?’ Mister Stone reclined in his plush office chair as he listened to the voice on the phone, absentmindedly gazing out at the late-night New York skyline far below. The E.R.I.S Enterprises home office was eighty-nine floors of constant, buzzing activity. Hundreds of employees making thousands of billion-dollar decisions that affected millions of lives and livelihoods across the world. But the ninetieth floor? The ninetieth floor was all Mister Stone’s. His own little castle on the mountain. Only those with express permission were authorised to disturb the boss’s tranquility. And even then, only when unavoidably necessary.

‘Wonderful. Detain the specimen and dispose of the extra. I don’t care. If his silence can be bought, do so. If not, plant something in his home and call the authorities. I hear Guantanamo’s lovely this time of year. I’ll be there before dawn.’ Mister Stone hung up. He smirked. ‘And so, it begins.’

He spun in his chair and hit the intercom on his desk. ‘Ms Paloma, what are our holdings in Illinois?’

A curt female voice answered through the crackling speaker. ‘We currently own a steel mill, a chemical factory, and are majority stockholders in three companies that produce parts for various electronics. There’s also the mom-and-pop bakery you bought out six years ago on your birthday, sir.’

‘Ah yes, the one with those delectable fudge cookies.’ Mister Stone chuckled to himself. ‘Did we ever get the recipe for those?’

‘Yes sir. I had legal copyright the recipe as soon as the Goodwins turned it over to us.’

‘Excellent. Have the bakery liquidated and pass the recipe on to the factory in Boston. I want those cookies on store shelves by the end of the month. Oh, and Ms Paloma?’

‘Sir?’

‘I suddenly find myself with the desire to inspect our Illinois assets. Arrange a flight for me, would you? I leave immediately.’

‘Right away, Sir.’

Mister Stone sat back and sighed. They really were mouth watering cookies. But, if his security forces had made good, what was waiting for him in Illinois was going to be a treat far more worthy of savouring.

~~~

As the fog of unconsciousness lifted, the first thing Ava noticed was the throbbing in her head. Her entire body ached. She was laying on, what felt like, bare concrete. When she tried and failed to sit up, a jolt of panic shot through her chest. Her legs were bound, and her hands were zip tied behind her back. ‘Wh-what?!’

She snapped her eyes open, only to immediately screw them shut again as bright, artificial light assaulted her raw senses.

‘Sir, she’s awake.’

Ava froze as a deep, male voice cut through the quiet. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she tried opening her eyes again.

‘”It,” Mister Bennett, not “she.” The specimen ceased to be human the moment it began to turn.’

Ava’s bleary vision came into focus just in time to meet the burning, mismatched gaze of a skeletal man, flanked by a pair of large men in riot gear, grinning down at her. Something about the man’s eyes chilled her to the bone.

‘What’s going on?’ Straining her muscles, Ava struggled into a sitting position. Her gaze darted about, assessing her surroundings. She was in, what appeared to be, a large dog cage, securely bolted to the floor in a windowless, concrete room full of similar cages. The only source of light was the harsh LED lights overhead. ‘Who are you people?!’

The skeletal man crouched down and squinted at her like he was scrutinizing a painting. ‘Hmmm… Yes, the eyes have changed already. And the hair is just beginning to, as well.’

His knobbly knees crackled as he levered himself, with an ornate cane, back into a standing position. ‘Excellent work, Mister Bennett. You and your team are to be commended. No doubt we’ll have plenty more specimens in these coming weeks. Oh, have you dealt with the extra?’

‘Yes, Sir.’ The older of the two armoured men nodded. ‘He won’t be a problem. In anticipation of similar collaborators going forward, we’ve manufactured a terrorist organisation and sufficient paraphernalia to tie them to it. By your leave, we mean to bomb a few of our low-profit subsidiaries to sell the cover.’

The skeletal man clapped his hands together. ‘Wonderful! I know just the bakery you can start with.’

Ava’s heart sank as she listened to the two men. ‘Wait. “Extra?” Sam! What have you done to my brother, you psychos?! Stop ignoring me!’

She gulped as the grin vanished from the skeletal man’s face and he turned to her. His glare burned a hole straight through the righteous anger she had been building. ‘I’d be more concerned for yourself, creature. Your time with us can go any number of ways. And, trust me, some are far less pleasant than others.’

‘What do you want with me?’

His smirk returned. ‘Why, money, of course.’

‘You’re traffickers?! Oh god. Please. Please just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I swear!’

‘”Traffickers?” Oh, don’t be so pretentious.’ The skeletal man rolled his eyes. ‘“Traffickers” implies humans. I run a respectable business, thank you very much.’

‘But you-‘

The skeletal man cut Ava off by snarling and striking the bars of her cage with his cane, causing her to yelp and fall over again. ‘Let me be perfectly clear, creature. You are no longer human. In a few days, you won’t even look like anything on this earth. You have no rights. You are mine to do with as I please. The value of your existence, from this day forward will be measured in how much profit I can squeeze out of you. How I choose to do that, depends, in no small part, on how you behave.’

He stepped back and sighed, a placid smile settling on his face. ‘So, get comfortable. You’re home now.’

With that, the skeletal man spun on his heel and strode for the exit, followed by the armoured men. ‘Mister Bennett, I want all of these cages filled within the week. I expect a high turnover.’

When the men had left the room and their footsteps had faded into the distance, Ava curled into a ball and sobbed.