Beasts

Dear Doctor, 

I hope this letter finds you well, and I apologize for the inconvenience I may have caused you. I didn’t know when I ran into you, and I am terribly sorry for your loss. 

Despite the unfortunate circumstance of our encounter, it couldn’t have come at a better time. While I sincerely wish I wouldn’t have to involve you in this business of mine at such a difficult time in your life, I didn’t know where else to turn. Therefore, and despite my guilty conscience, I’m delighted at your eagerness to join me in my endeavor. 

For reasons that will soon become obvious, it’s not a project for the faint of heart. You may even harbor doubts, have second thoughts, or change your mind once you learn the details. I have wavered myself and reconsidered taking this path. It is, after all, a tricky (and not entirely honorable) endeavor I have set my heart on–one that may not bear fruit or could end in disaster. Even if I were to succeed, the public may outright reject my findings and condemn me with prejudice. It happened before.

Yet, every part of me itches to confront the status quo, to delve into the matter and bury myself in research, until I prove my theory to the world. You’ll see what I mean–and perhaps will glean my reasons for pursuing the matter after reviewing the proposal and premise I sent alongside this letter. 

For obvious reasons, I’d prefer if you kept the details of our conversation and everything pertaining to the project to yourself. Especially since it is a delicate topic likely to raise eyebrows (if not sanctions). No one needs to know what I–and hopefully you are going to be working on. In fact, it is of the utmost importance to keep the project a secret and keep prying eyes focused elsewhere, as I do not wish to attract unnecessary attention or premature scrutiny. 

Furthermore, I’d prefer if we limited our interactions. For safety reasons and to keep from drawing scrutiny, I propose we work separately, meeting infrequently (and covertly) to exchange notes, data, and materials as necessary. 

If you are up for this adventure, meet me in two days’ time to discuss the details in person, as I’d prefer not to commit any more to paper. 

Again, I would like to extend my heartfelt condolences.

Your ever-grateful, M

#

Dear Doctor, 

I hope this letter finds you well. I know I suggested we refrain from contacting each other, but I had to share the marvelous news with you. 

As I’m sitting here, writing these words, my hands tremble and my heart pounds against the confines of my chest. I feel giddy and excited. Over the moon, in fact, as I’m looking at the data. 

I’ve done it. I’ve created it. I found the missing link, made a breakthrough. And it was glorious. 

Even though it lived only for a moment before falling apart, I–no, we have found the right pieces. The puzzle is nearly solved. Now it’s only a matter of time, of adjustments, tweaking, and refining until we reach our goal. Until it is done. 

I’m sending you the data, feeds, and discoveries along with this letter. Please review them.

We are so close, my friend, so close. 

Sincerely, M

PS: Given the nature of our endeavor and the materials I’m providing you with, I’m curious what you make of the remnants and kindly request we meet under the usual circumstances. 

#

Dear Doctor, 

I waited for you every morning at the appointed time, but you haven’t come by. I’m wondering if they have gotten to you. They surely have kept a close eye on me. I can see them hiding in the corners of my eyes, shadows trailing after me everywhere I go. They even stooped to searching my house and practice in my absence. As if I wouldn’t notice someone rifling through my files. As if I’d keep my research in the open for their nosy hounds to find. 

They are more observant, more vigilant, and much closer than I expected they would be at this point. And since recent events suggest the situation is developing faster than foreseen, we must accelerate the timeline. We must finish it before they come for us. 

In fact, I worried they may have taken you into custody. Especially since you haven’t responded to any of my letters and no one has seen you in days. But even if they haven’t taken you in, I fear they know, or at least suspect, what we are up to. So, watch your back. Be careful. 

Misgivings and danger aside, we must meet. I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning again. We have much to discuss and even more to prepare for since the prototype, while imperfect and incomplete, is ready. We are nearly there. All that is left is combining our work to create the final product, and it is done. 

Your worried, M

#

Dear Doctor, 

I’m becoming increasingly concerned. Where are you? I received the box you sent. Yet, I haven’t heard from you in days. My letters have, for all I know, been delivered to you, and yet you have failed to respond. I suspect the situation has rattled you as it has me. It likely shook you to the core and made you question the ethics of our profession. I understand. I felt the same way. However, given the circumstances, we don’t have the luxury of pretending this never happened. You can’t un-know the truth. You can’t close the door, we have torn down. 

Also, given they are closing in, I need to know the data is safe. My life depends on it, and so does yours. As long as we hold on to it, they won’t move against us. It’s too risky, and they are only too eager to get their hands on our findings. I suppose we are fortunate in this way. 

Nevertheless, I have taken precautions. I’ve kept our endeavor secret, tucked away all the materials in my hidden lab. They’ll never find it, and they’ll never find our splendid, albeit imperfect, little creation. 

Sincerely, M

#

Doctor,

They came for me. In full force, under the cover of darkness. They were everywhere, swarming my house like ravenous rats. I barely escaped. Slipped through their fingers because I had taken a detour. 

Our research is lost, however. Somehow, they found my lab and it. I don’t know how, but they did. I watched from the corner of the street as they carried boxes out of my house. They took it too, cage and all. I heard it howl, banging against metal and rattling the bars. I’m surprised the cage stayed in one piece. But yes, they took everything. It’s all gone. 

Perhaps I should go after them, get our research back, but I fear they are too powerful. I’m only a researcher, not a mercenary–and that’s certainly what it would take. But fear not. I have a plan to take back what is rightfully ours. 

For now, I’d advise you to run. Run as fast and as far as you can. Don’t hesitate and don’t look back. Let me handle the rest. 

M

#

“Hunt of a lifetime, my ass.” The grizzled hunter slams the shot glass on the counter, the hollow thud of the motion disrupting the muffled silence. “It was all lies and deception.” He lifts the next glass and kicks it back, grimacing as he swallows. “I foiled their plans, though.” His gaze fixes on a stain on the wooden counter while his fingers curl into fists, knuckles turning white, while a wry grin stretches into the corners of his mouth. “That bloody murderous monster never saw it coming.”

He inhales a strained breath, gazing empty-eyed at the pale man next to him, whose mumbled inquiry draws his attention. 

Despite the lack of emotion on the man’s face, curiosity sings in his voice. “A hunt, you say? What kind?”

The grizzled hunter blinks slowly, then shrugs.

“The usual. Some rich dude hired me to track something down. An iconic creature, he called it. Something never before seen, he insisted, and I was the perfect guy for the job, given my expertise.” He pokes the refilled glass, watching the caramel liquid slosh about. “He failed to mention, though, it was his creation he sent me after. The perfect predator–smart, stealthy, patient, with killer instincts. It could have killed me.” He grunts. “Nearly did too.”

Lost in thought, he lifts the glass to his lips, pours the liquid down his throat, and places it on the counter. With his hand resting on the wooden surface and fingers twitching against the empty glass, he waits. 

Spurred on by the tension, seconds hurry past, until eventually, the man breaks the strained silence. “What happened next?” 

The hunter lifts his gaze. With his piercing eyes boring into the man, he unbuttons his right sleeve and rolls it up, revealing four angry gashes carved across his forearm.

“I couldn’t even tell what it was when it first attacked me.” He shakes his head grimly. “Born of shadows, it moved with the darkness, absorbing the light to become invisible. When it pounced on me, I felt its malice. It was a vicious beast, all soaked in death and destruction.”

The man leans away, the lines in his face deepening. “And you kill it?”

“I tracked it down and trapped it.” His mouth twists into a bitter grin. “But that wasn’t enough.” He turns to glare at the man, anger flashing in his eyes. “That scientist, the one who created her, he only ever saw her as a creature. A thing. So, when he asked me to kill his creation—” The door bangs against the wall and a shadow darkens the entrance. “I opened the cage.”

The grizzled hunter rises from his barstool as a girl with cat-like ears leaps onto the counter, growling and snarling. Gently patting her head, the hunter watches the man, waiting for recognition to stain his face with horror. And as it does, the hunter’s eyes crinkle with delight. 

The man slides from his chair and staggers back–one step, two–as the girl, with her feral features and cat-like agility, hisses at him. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of amber, lock onto his, and for a moment, she transforms into darkness and fury.

The man shrieks, stumbles, falls on his butt, scrambles backwards until he backs into a chair, toppling it. With a thunk, it hits the ground and the spell breaks. 

The girl withdraws, leaps onto the counter next to the grizzled hunter and nuzzles into his hand.

As he scratches her behind the ears, he says with a newfound edge in his voice, “You see, the scientist had forgotten one thing about his creation: she had a soul. A heart that could love and trust.” He continues to stroke her head, calming her with gentle words.

The pale man, trembling and bewildered, stammers, “W–w–what did you do?”

A grim smile plays at the hunter’s lips. “I gave her a choice. I let her decide her own fate. And she chose freedom. You see, sometimes what you see isn’t what you get; and sometimes the real monsters wear the mask of humanity.”

With a nod from the hunter, the girl leaps down from the counter and bounds out the door, vanishing into the night. As he returns his focus to the man, the hunter says, “Well, that’s the end of my story.” He picks up the shot glass, downs the liquid, and places it back on the counter. “Now, it’s time for you to make your choice, Moreau. What will it be?”