By Oboroten
Deep in the isolation ward of Central Hospital, Dr. Foster looked out a thick glass window at the security men clustered outside. They were all dressed in stark white, space suit-like protective gear, wearing black gas masks. Of course, thought Dr. Foster ruefully, this was as good a use as any for space-suit, as Earth’s astronaut program had been completely scrapped following the alien attack. Too many people feared that venturing into space again would merely provoke more extraterrestrial vengeance.
Several of the men pointed cameras at the wall, aiming them directly at Charlie Coyote. They’d become obsessed with him ever since he underwent a grotesque transformation after entering the hospital, changing from the form of a teenage human boy into a middle-aged canine morph. Occasionally, they would point their lenses at the others in the room, wondering if any of them would undergo a sudden metamorphosis.
"How do you feel?" asked Dr. Foster, noticing that Charlie was shaking again. "Although I don’t think you’ll undergo any more changes, the drug seems to produce some nasty withdrawal symptoms. It’s a good thing you were only exposed to a little bit."
"Like hell," muttered Charlie, clutching his left forepaw as it began to thrash wildly again. "Hangovers at the Stray Dog were nothin’ like this. Things still spin around, I’ve got this splittin’ headache, and feel like pukin’ all over the floor."
"I’ll see if I can persuade them to give you something to alleviate your nausea. But it may take some time, for they still think I’m infected. Whenever I try to send a message, the head security man just stares back at me speechless, as if he expects horns, wings, and a tail to erupt from my clothing at any moment."
Hearing a buzzing sound, Dr. Foster looked on a table with a phone and saw that its button was flashing yellow. Someone had an incoming message. Based upon previous experience, he guessed it was for Officer Freeman. Carrying the phone over to him, he looked over Freeman’s deep wounds, glad his attacker’s tusks hadn’t pierced any vital organs. Still, it would take many days for his injuries to heal.
"Frank here," declared the policeman. "Sergeant Anderson? Yes, I’m feeling a little bit better - mainly ‘cause Doc says I’m not gonna turn into some ugly pig monster. Were you able to track him down?"
Officer Freeman paused for about a minute, listening to unsettling news. His face became increasingly grim, clear upset by the reports he was hearing. After a curt "Bye," he dropped the phone back on the table roughly.
"What did he say, Frank?" asked Charlie. "Have they caught the boar-man?"
"Not even lookin’ now," grumbled the policeman. "Everything’s goin' to pieces. Carnivore gangs loose in half the city. Thousands runnin’ away, afraid they’ll turn into beast-men. Looters. Arson. The whole works."
Laughing wildly, so hard that his chains rattled against the gurney, Sid Hyena pointed out a window, "You ain’t seen the flames yet? Five blocks are on fire! We’re gonna burn down Capital City."
"What do you mean by we?" asked Dr. Foster suspiciously. "You knew about this! Is it some sort of planned attack?"
"Shuddup, Sid!" warned Mike, growling deep in his throat. The tigerman futilely shook his heavy manacles, as he’d tried several times before, but quickly tired of the effort. "The whole place is wired. They got cameras all over."
"I don’t give a damn," replied Sid, "It’s like Jack Buckby said. The Gates Foundation set up our revolt, lettin’ us free Beast Town and burn down Capital City. We’ll be on top and the humans will be our slaves."
"Jack said that?" asked Charlie, shocked at the hyenaman’s comment. "But he’s not in charge of anything, he's just a roo bouncer at a bar."
"You don’t know nothin’, cop-dog," snarled Sid in response. "Jack worked with Vicky, puttin’ in all the cameras, blackmailin’ all those lyin’ politicians.
Collins was goin’ along with our plan, but then started backin’ out. Real sneaky. So, we warned him that night - don’t expose us. When he didn’t go along, Collins got whacked."
Suddenly paying attention to the conversation, Officer Freeman looked across the room at Sid, "Congressman Collins was ready to betray the government? How many others? Y’know, Sarge said they’ve called off the hunt for Howard Hare. Somebody up top told ‘em to stop."
"It’s worse than that," added Charlie, trying to compose himself. "Even with my head spinnin’ like this, I’ve got it figured out. It’s all from Scanlan’s lab. The old doc, he's the one in charge of the whole mess."
"How can you say that about Jethro?" asked Dr. Foster, shaking his head. "Didn’t you hear that he died last night? The police searched his laboratory after the boar-man, um, Mitchell, ran away. They found a suicide note next to a pile of scorched bones, charred with acid. It was just horrible, reading how he decided to end his life. You see, he couldn’t endure his wasting disease for another day."
"What a lie!" growled Charlie. "He’s still very much alive."
"I do have my doubts," said Dr. Foster sadly. "Although the specialist said the note appeared to written by Jethro, I wonder if Howard Hare might have been involved. He clearly had some dealings with Mitchell, so he might have . . ."
"Jethro is Howard Hare," interrupted Charlie. "I’m sure of it."
Before Dr. Foster could consider his words, a viewscreen flashed on, announcing an urgent message. Every eye in the room turned toward it when President Williams appeared, preparing to give a speech. He soon read a startling proclamation.
"All of Capital City is now under martial law. Anyone found loose in the streets will be guilty of endangering public security. I have personally authorized our soldiers to look for anyone spreading contagion. Suspects will be shot on sight . . ."
Meanwhile, in a basement room under a shabby apartment in Beast Town, Howard Hare gnawed on a carrot, waiting for an important visitor. He’d been told that the Gates Foundation wanted to deal with him, even offering him a high rank in the organization. Skeptical of these promises, he’d kept several vicious carnivores by his side, just in case this was some kind of trick.
A roo-morph then bounded into room, carrying a small view-screen. He carefully moved by a feral looking wolf-woman, who contentedly lay on the floor gnawing on some large bones. A few clumps of raw, pink flesh still clung to them.
"John S. Buckby, Gates Foundation," declared the kangaroo man in greeting. "We have a proposal that should be of interest to you."
"General Howard W. Hare, leader of the free Beast- Men," replied the rabbitman, standing up and placing his carrot down. "What sort of proposal? Are the humans ready to make a deal with us?"
"Who said anything about humans?" Jack answered rather abruptly. "Our Foundation is actually controlled by beings from beyond this solar system. We decided it’s time to end the human domination of this planet."
Stunned by this remark, Howard sat down, looking carefully at some papers the kangaroo-morph hastily placed in front of him on the table. After reading them for a few minutes, he became quite excited, "Such advanced technology," he remarked. "So you want me to work with you, using Chemical X to transform of humans on a massive scale? It all sounds so, um, great, no, wonderful!"
"Wait, there’s more," continued Jack, "The previous invay, err, incursion was a mere test. This time, we will advance the inhabitants of this planet to a higher level, using our creative destruction technique to promote the evolutionary process. Transformed beings will be pitted against each other in an arena, made to fight each other to determine who is fittest. The losers shall be exterminated."
"Of course," observed Howard, "Your thoughts are similar to my own. Rule by fear and destroy those who are inferior. But can’t I have a demonstration of this technology you’ve described? It’s one thing to see it on paper, but I really want proof before signing any of your documents."
"Certainly," added Jack, plugging the view-screen into an electrical outlet. "It’s a good thing you have backup generators here, as power has been cut to most of the city. Just watch the picture and learn."
A shrew-woman and a lion-man moved to Howard’s side, curious about what would be displayed. The wolf-woman even dropped her bones, eager to learn what the Gates Foundation planned to do. The entire group gasped when an image of President Williams appeared, sitting in a nearly empty room.
"Remember when you stuck that sample in Congressman Collins, Howard," asked Jack. "You placed it near the adrenal gland, so the transformation would be triggered by a strong emotional response. That was quite clever."
"Well, I’ve tested it for a number of years. In my first subjects, Chemical X triggered certain forms of mental instability. Psychosis, homicidal tendencies, megalomania, um, unfortunate things like that. For myself, I selected the form of a rabbit, in order to restrain the more violent aspects of the drug’s interaction."
"Oh, I can see that you chose wisely, picking a shape that suits you so well," continued Jack, watching President Williams pacing on the screen. "He’s waiting for us to send him some new orders. We implanted a remote receiver deep within his body several weeks ago, one that can be activated from quite far away. It’s proven quite handy at persuading him to cooperate."
Williams suddenly stopped in place, staring down as green scales began to form on the palm of his right hand. His hand also violently twisted, shifting into a clawlike shape. He moaned briefly as two horns poked out of his forehead. Fascinated by the sight, Howard Hare closely watched as more scales erupted on the President’s face.
Speaking into a small metallic disk, Jack firmly declared, "You have another task to perform, Mr. President. All humans are to be registered, for their own safety. Any who do not appear for registration will be subject to quarantine. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I’ll do anything you say. Just make it stop!"
After lightly tapping a button on the side of the disk, Jack peered back at the viewscreen, seeing the scales on the President’s face turn back into normal skin. The horns grudgingly receded as well, fading away into nothingness. "The prepared speech will be waiting for you on the table. Make sure you don’t deviate from it."
"Of course. I wouldn’t dream of defying you. All hail Lord Kothos!"
Once Jack placed his view-screen away, Howard was eager to endorse any documents he was given. However, the kangaroo-morph was somewhat reticent. "Hare? That’s not much of a name. Why don’t you use Jeth . . ."
"Howard Woundwort Hare," replied the rabbit-man, his red eyes glowing with anticipation. "I’ll sign ‘General Howard Woundwort’ on your papers."
"All right," concluded Jack, suddenly getting a bit tense as Howard grabbed a pen. While the lapine signed the papers, the carnivores in the room retreated, suddenly afraid of a new presence in the room. Howard himself also trembled with fear, as a strange being materialized in mid-air.
"Hail Lord Kothos!" proclaimed Jack, bowing his head before the alien intruder. The eight-foot tall being seemed to have a humanoid shape, but no features could be seen protruding from its flowing black robes. Its head, if it truly had one, was concealed within a hemispherical glass helmet, through which lights flashed every few seconds.
Howard dropped his head on the table in abject submission, while the other beast-men in the room cringed and cowered, their ears twitching back and forth as strange clicking sounds emanated from the alien’s helmet. "Lord Kothos is pleased," said Jack, "He says that soon the entire Earth shall be ours." As musical tones began to accompany the alien’s clicks, Jack’s eyes lit up, as if on fire, and he started an evil laugh: "Mwa-ha-ha-ha!"
Meanwhile, on the far side of the city, Dr. Foster watched the viewscreen in the hospital room with horror. "Did you hear what President Williams just said? I can’t believe it! Everyone is now required to receive injections."
"It’s no mistake," said Charlie, "They’re taking over. The aliens are back and this time they're usin' . . ."
"We must warn someone," interrupted Dr. Foster. "I keep thinking of how Mitchell transformed, it was so hideous."
"Hideous? What about me?" grunted Sid. "I’m stuck as a hyena, an’ now I got gashes all over my face thanks to the coyote. He should’ve just given me the bottle."
"Traitor!" yelled Charlie. "At least I’m not workin’ for those damn aliens."
Charlie and Sid both snarled, ready to fight each other again. While they glared at each other in defiance, Officer Freeman attempted to use the phone, but found that it would not respond. Inspired by the noise, Mike also roared, shaking his chains violently but finding that even with a tiger’s strength he couldn’t budge them.
"How can you jump to conclusions like that," asked Dr. Foster. "I’ve never seen any aliens. In fact, I don’t recall if there was any proof they actually existed during the so-called war. Just a bunch of lights in the sky and a mysterious gas is all that was reported in the official press. If extraterrestrial intelligence was truly involved, how could we have won? Their technology would surely have been centuries beyond our own, so there’s no way any of our military efforts could have defeated them."
Forgetting his quarrel with Sid for the moment, Charlie decided to recount his own experience, "Look, I saw the flyin’ saucers myself. Up on the mountain west of Roswell, right after we got the first reports. Folks changin’ into bears an’ stuff. That’s when I got hit by that weird gas and started to, um, turn into a friggin’ coyote."
"But did you see any extraterrestrials? Where’s the proof?"
Before Charlie could answer, Mike provided his own explanation, "People don’t just turn into tigers, Doc. You tell me. If it ain’t aliens, who did this?" he asked with a low growl, baring his sharp teeth and twitching his feline whiskers.
"I really cannot explain it," said Dr. Foster softly. "But with the chemical sample Charlie stole, um, saved from Mr. Hare’s apartment, we may make some progress. If a tiny dose of that compound could temporarily make him human and drop a dozen years off his age, it may be the key to finding a cure. We could restore . . . "
"You just got proof!" exclaimed Charlie as a portal appeared in the center of the room. Out of a glowing rectangle, a huge black shape slowly emerged, accompanied by a rabbit-man and a roo-morph. "It’s one of them!"
Officer Freeman recoiled from the sight, afraid he was about to be attacked. Mike also shook with fear, recalling repeated pounding by Jack’s huge feet. Only Sid was happy, thinking that he’d just been rescued from captivity.
"Howie, get me outta here," snapped Sid, again struggling with the ropes and chains holding him on the gurney. As he spoke, the windows of the room fogged up, while bright lights flashed on the alien’s helmet. Jack glanced at Sid dismissively, stating mercilessly, "You had your chance, Sid. Charlie won, even as a human."
A bolt of lightning suddenly shot from the center of the alien’s globular head. When the cloud of dust cleared, all that remained of Sid Hyena were a pile of bones. "Game over," muttered Jack. "Charlie is now the chosen one for the next round . . ."
"Chosen for what?" asked Charlie Coyote, watching a green tentacle emerge from underneath the alien’s black robes. As it squirmed along the floor, the slimy appendage dripped acid, melting small pits in the metal. "I won’t work for you!" Charlie yelled.
"Chosen to fight the tiger-man," replied Jack, hitting a button on the side of a small metallic wand. Mike’s bonds shimmered with light for a moment, but then disintegrated into mist, leaving nothing behind but a few scraps of metal. The tiger-man then shook himself free, firmly staring back at Jack with revulsion.
"I pick my own fights," Mike declared. Before he could finish speaking, the portal floated into mid-air, heading directly toward him. Charlie also felt dizzy, seeing things spin around him again, as if he were suffering another hallucination.
But this time it was different, as Charlie’s eyes cleared to reveal himself sitting in the center of a sandy arena, somewhere in the middle of a empty wasteland. Mike was also there, sprawled in the dust where the portal had dumped him. Not far away, but up above them, Jack sat next to his alien master and the rabbit-man, who was now clad in a military-style uniform marked with four stars.
"You shall now entertain Lord Kothos," Jack proclaimed, his eyes glowing like fiery coals. "Charles Robinson, coyote-man, and Michael Harris, tiger morph, shall now engage in mortal combat, shedding their blood before His glorious presence. The winner of this match shall be pitted against future foes. Only one shall survive!"
As Jack rested his large tail against one of the tiers of the empty arena, the rabbit-man standing next to the black-clad alien looked down at Charlie, "Shouldn’t we wait a little bit? It wouldn’t be fair, not with him still influenced by the drug. Let it wear off at least enough so he can be quick on his feet, err, hindpaws."
"You’re only sayin’ that ‘cause you bet on him, General Woundwort," said Jack, looking down as Mike slammed his head against the sand in despair. He clawed deep furrows into the sand in frustration, wishing he was back in Central Hospital. It was far better to be chained to a gurney than to be used as a gladiator by a sadistic alien and his two insane assistants.
Charlie was not as despondent, still hoping he could escape. Perhaps the portal was still around? Turning his head back and forth, he reluctantly saw no trace of it. All he could perceive was a barren desert, extending from the arena out to a dusty horizon. No one else was around.
Well, if he was going to fight, he’d rather go after the alien, Charlie thought. Maybe it could be distracted. Perhaps it had some sort of vulnerability. He watched two of its tentacles curl against the stone benches ringing the stadium.
Before he made a move, the lights on the strange being’s helmet began to shine, flashing rapidly. A sound like thunder filled the sky, even though there were no clouds in this desert wasteland. Looking up, Charlie was greatly dismayed as he saw an amorphous blob of dust descending from directly overhead.
The dust cloud moved lower and lower, glowing from within with eerie red and green lights. As it came closer, Mike fled to the far side of the arena, while the others just stared, frozen with terror. Even the alien reacted, its tentacles quivering at first, but then shrinking back under its billowing robes.