Story - The Perfect Evolution

[GearRyu]

Story Complete. Afterthoughts to come. Enjoy!

The Perfect Evolution

By SEGR

Foreword
Welcome to “The Perfect Evolution”, my second story submitted to the Process Forum. It’s been a while since I wrote "Incubusted" (link in sig), and I’m glad to be back with more. Like “Incubusted”, this is starting as a work in progress. I already finished a first draft, and have an almost complete second draft, but I am making some substantial changes part way through. I will be posting what I have ready to send out, and posting the rest as it comes to me (soon, oh so soon). Still, procrastination is hard to break and motivation can be a little difficult to find. I hope that the comments of the viewers will give me that extra push like it did in writing “Incubusted” to write the best story I can... and finish it!

“The Perfect Evolution” is a story set in the world of “Airpatrol”, a webcomic written and illustrated by Wolfman-Al (Link: http://www.airpatrolonline.net/html/index_english.html). If you have read the webcomic, then my story should make sense. If you have not, then I recommend you read some of it, both for understanding my story and for its own merits. The setting is fascinating and it’s clear from talking with him and reading the notes on his forum that Al put a lot of thought into the setting’s background and the plot’s progression.

Basically, the setting is the near future, approximately 60 years from now. This fanfic is a self-contained story about a character of my own creation, Julia “Cranberry” Pawis, and it occurs chronologically previous to the events of the plot of Air Patrol. You can expect to see some references to places or characters you are familiar with in the setting, along with at least one character pulled directly from the setting itself, but the plot, the main character and most of the supporting cast are my own creations. Wolfman-Al was nice enough to be the editor of my story and his comments have been invaluable in making this story as well-constructed as it is.

You will notice, by the way, that many of the characters portrayed in this story have last names that are obviously puns. This isn’t my normal writing style, but the setting strongly supports it, so I decided to not deviate. Deviating would be a little like playing a game of D&D where the party consists of Alladria the Elf, Gorrim the Dwarf, Tzimmil the Tiefling, and Berny Smith the Dragonborn.

One more thing… I’m sure that many of you are going to be eager to see the Process happening in this story. There is plenty of it. You just have to actually read the story to see it happening. I like to think of the story standing on its own merits, and the transformation being another aspect of what makes the story strong, instead of a gimmick to get you to read the story and give a quick thumbs up. Also, I don’t care to describe or invent sexual encounters unless they are somehow relevant to the story. What I mean to say is that you should be able to enjoy this story for the plot and, hey, if you get your rocks off to something in it, well, consider that a bonus.

I will make a note in this opening paragraph when a new part of the story comes up.

Well, with that said, sit back and enjoy "The Perfect Evolution".

[GearRyu]

Prologue

?I?m going slightly mad?? ~Freddy Mercury

From the Journal of Dr. Noh
I continued my research.

They wanted to hold me back, to hold the project back, and I knew they would not permit me to pursue my specialized branch of the research. In their hasty declarations, they have doomed their great experiment to drown in obscurity? how can they not see the futility of it all as everything stands? I will save them and they will thank me one day for my munificence ?

I?ll never forget how I realized that I was the only one with any real vision for this project.

My experimentations had come under note. I had been perfecting an artificial aggressor, intended to increase combat efficacy. I was going to surprise them; it was a side-project, meant to hasten the inevitable conclusion; victory.

Then they stepped in. They? inspected my notes, and told me it was too dangerous. Inhumane, they called it. Inhumane, as though the creatures being incubated were human? God knows what they are. They are better than human. They are the ultimate survivors; imperfect ultimate survivors, and that imperfection is what I wanted to erase, even back then.

I told them as much. They said I was mad. I told them the real madness was in leaving the project like it was. It?s impossible to justify doing anything less than your best and I?d sacrifice again everything that I ultimately did if it meant accomplishing more. They would have none of it. They confiscated my notes (they were copies), and made me promise to focus on the task at hand. I lied and agreed.

I am certain Cassandra thought her ?talk? did some ?good?. If her willing laxity had any positive, it?s that it made learning her password and switching security IDs with her all the easier. Within the week, I took the future into my own hands. I copied their notes, borrowed a few of the subjects, and took my leave.

I had to. If they weren?t going to let me help them, they needed me to help them all the more. I had to be the bigger man. I, yes, I, was the one who should have been in charge from the beginning. It was my destiny, but somehow they took it from me and knew I?d never get it back if I didn?t do this. Maybe they would?ve killed me. God knows I saw that look in Cassandra?s eye. Scheming, she was, stealing from my own notes and taking credit? all the more reason to take what was rightfully mine and experiment where I didn?t need to fear someone taking my experiments away from me.

I left Siberia and traveled to India, where I was received with open arms and treated quite well. I had previously received an offer and work grant to move my studies there? I had rejected it a few years ago when the hybrid experiment was first proposed. This time, I promised them something bigger, something better. All I asked for was privacy (and a higher offer than a false figure I created). I provided a few tantalizing secrets, received my grant, and began my work. This was not betrayal. The information I provided them with was chickenfeed compared to what I was really working on, though they gobbled it up. I worked in nearly autonomous secrecy, accompanied by a few occasional lab assistants (whose disappearances will remain a mystery for the police). Under the pretenses of anti-bacterial warfare development, I continued my true experiments.

The Mureo family is brilliant, I must say that for them. I experienced consternation at how simple their notes were, considering the complexity of the process. I spent weeks reading for comprehension, months filling in the blanks and years improving on what I learned. For the life of me, I still cannot understand why they did not take the experiment to its natural conclusion. How could they take my contributions to science and do so little? It was obvious to me only near the end that I could have done better merely by starting from scratch, but they knew how to lie and make it seem like they had more than they did in their notes.

My initial experiments garnered limited success. Almost all of the initial subjects I had liberated from the Siberian military base expired, despite my best intentions. I concluded this should be expected. At the time, my research was still tainted by the flawed brilliance and lies of the Mureo. The second batch of subjects, I had determined, would be free of such imperfections.

The subjects displayed improved mental capacity and adaptability far beyond anything that even I had predicted. It was a disheartening day when their cellular structures broke down suddenly. I was working on a tight budget, you see, and failure at this stage meant the third time had to be a success.

And so I praise God that I was indeed successful. My final experiment was a success. She was? beautiful, the culmination of my dreams. A keen intellect, even in infancy, remarkable physical development and perfect adaptability. She passed tests which the first and even second batch had failed outright. I nearly wept every time I recorded her success. By this time, I had no more assistants. It was just me and her.

I began to? dote upon the subject. She reminded me of the very few years I had with my own child before? well, no, it wasn?t about my child, no, it was more important. The subject was not human, nor could she ever be; she was, like all of her race, more than human and, to me, she would be perfect? and when the world mourned the long-term failure of her cousins, they would see her, and love her, and they too would see her as perfect.


Sadly, this will be the last night I see her face for a long time. With the war at an end, my research has come under question, and it is only a matter of days, or weeks, (dare I hope, months?), before it is known what I have done here. I cannot allow that to happen. If I am found out, I will be killed and she? I cannot write what abuse my most perfect of sciences will suffer. No, I am leaving this place to go elsewhere and it is too dangerous for her to accompany me.

It pains me to know she will mingle with her inferior cousins, but she will be safest amongst their anonymous numbers. As for myself, I will destroy most of my notes and disassemble the machinery. I will travel light, and alone, my research in my head and in a single briefcase. If they should ever find me, and my genius may be hard to disguise forever, they shall find only a single man, with little to account for himself; no record of his success. If that day comes, with any luck, I?ll strike another bargain and life will continue as it once did. And if I die, well, that?s life? and I will rest easy knowing I have still created something perfect.

Yes, you will be safe? I will not lose track of you? Perhaps one day we shall even be reunited? the only important thing is that you remain safe?

[GearRyu]

Chapter 1

?I finish up my coffee
It?s time to catch the train?
~ ?Toms Diner?, Suzanne Vega

Coffee Stop

Cranberry rarely did anything exciting. Perhaps a 24 hour credit load at Mega Frankfurt Universit?t kept her too busy to do anything except go to class, study, and daydream about actually having a life. She had almost no friends that she saw out of class except Lola, a rather bubbly and persistent fellow cheetah-sphinx. They had met at the prey center, started chatting, and became close friends.

Cranberry got along well with Lola. The latter was determined to drag the former away from her studies. Admittedly, Cranberry enjoyed being around someone who did all the exciting things she could only fantasize about. Detective work? Cranberry?s own life, caught in the tedium of lectures and research, seemed doomed to utter boredom by compare.

Today, one of Cranberry?s classes had been cancelled and Lola was on lunch break. They were going to have coffee together.

Cranberry left her last class, donned her maroon fedora (with slits for her ears) and surplus army jacket and dashed from campus to the nearby coffee shop. The walk would take a normal human 15 minutes. She would make it in three if things were hectic. She held her fedora down against her head as she ran, her dyed-cranberry hair whipping in the wind tunnel generated by her dash. Tocatta & Fugue in D Minor was playing in her ears at minimum volume; to her, it sounded like full blast.

**
About two minutes later, they were sitting in the coffee shop, Cranberry with three empty large cups on her side of the table and Lola keeping up.

?So, Cran,? Lola said, ?how?s it feel to be free??

?Off class? A little relaxing? good thing, too, I could use the occasional break. I really should be using this time to study, though. I have three papers due by the end of the week.?

?Yikes!? Lola?s tail stiffened in surprise.

?And a presentation to give. And four tests. Yay me. The work is easy, but draining. Still, anything to get through universit?t in two years.?

?I know what you mean,? said Lola, with a grin. ?I can hardly wait to get through my officer training at P.S. 13. Still, I guess I?m lucky, because there is the occasional cool break. Just the other day, we were chasing this burglar, an- mouse!?

With sparking speed, Lola reached down and snatched a scurrying mouse off the floor, dropped it in her mouth, and swallowed it. ?-d you should?ve seen the look on his face when I leapt over him, poked him in the forehead, and told him ?stop in the name of the law?.?

Cranberry smirked. ?To each her own. You will never see ME hunting down burglars. Too risky.?

?I bet. Hey,? Lola tilted her coffee cup back all the way, then popped the lid off. ?Darn! It?s empty already?? She licked along the inner edge and looked disappointed. Then she grinned. ?I guess I?ll just have to get another one.?

?I concur and second the motion? added Cranberry, setting her empty cup down.

**
?Look, lady, I?m not tryin? to insult ya or anythin?, I?m just sayin?, maybe you oughtta take some more time between cups. I mean, Jesus, this is like your fifth! ?

?Darn it, I?ll tell you when I?ve had enough!? Lola?s fist met with the counter, leaving a faint impression. She looked a bit grumpy, to say the least.

?Look, all I was just sayin? was??

?Two coffees ? large ? now!?

?Ha-hem?? coughed Cranberry, rolling her eyes a bit.

?Oh, right,? Lola nodded, then smiled toothily, ?make it four. And step on it. And do you have a size bigger than large??

?Lady, please, why the trouble? I just run the counter??

?Oh, please, call me Lola. And that?s Cranberry.?

?Hallo,? said Cranberry, raising a hand in greeting.

The clerk grabbed a couple large cups and sighed with a defeated expression on his face. Cranberry and Lola took the opportunity to down a few freebie sugar packets and chat.

?Say, Lola,? said Cranberry, with a tinge of interest, ?why did you become interested in law enforcement??

?Oh, isn?t it obvious? To protect and serve,? Lola replied, a small smile of pride on her face, ?to keep our streets clean and make the world a brighter place! How about you? Why a full-time student??

?Hm? Me? Well?? Vivid recollections of being teased as a kid entered her mind. ?I have always wanted to do something with my life, but I never knew what. I guess I am just a bookworm by nature. All I heard growing up was how brilliant, how clever, how smart I am. I decided to put people?s claims to the test. I am graduating in the upcoming semester. Twenty-four credit hours per semester. It is more time-consuming than challenging. After I graduate with my triple major, I will pursue biology, journalism, or psychology. Still undecided.?

Lola had listened to Cranberry with incredulity, wide eyes, and a slack expression on her face.

?? Lola? Earth to Lola.? Frown. ?Do NOT make me dump your coffee on your head.?

?Ah!? Lola snapped out of her moment. ?Right, right!? She smiled in embarrassment. ?Say, what about your other friends? What do they think??

?Ah?? Cranberry paused and lightly knit her teeth together. ?I really do not talk much about myself around others. In fact, I have never been close to anyone. I have never even met my parents ? I would especially like to meet my father.?

?Why?s that?? Lola leaned in and smiled. Her back curved and her hips rose slightly into the air.

?Well?? Cranberry danced a sugar packet between her fingers as she reflected. She seemed lost in thought for a second before drawing back down to reality. ?I have never met him. However, I must have a father because he occasionally sends me letters. So far, I have not been able to trace where he is writing from or discern why he never comes to visit. The card has no fingerprint traces or signature?? She grimaced, clearly frustrated by the failure.

**
?Here you are, ladies,? said the clerk, with a heavy sigh as he clapped two coffee cups down on the counter. Then two more. ?Four? large? coffees. Enjoy ?em.? He walked away grumbling, while a tall, hideous man in a beige coat walked in from the far end of the coffee shop, grumbling and patting something hidden under the coat.

?Thank you very much,? replied Cranberry and Lola in unison. Their sharp teeth, perfect for swallowing prey and scaring mild-mannered dentists, glistened in the sunlight caught by the shop?s window pane.

They grabbed the coffees, then turned and began drinking as they headed back over to their table.

?Does he ever send gifts?? Lola asked.

?Huh??

?Gifts. Does your dad ever send you any presents??

?Well, no, but he?s recommended a few books to read now and then.? Cranberry shrugged. ?Always something neat. Last year, he suggested a book on Applied Disassociative Criminology Theory. Good read.?

**
?You! Yeah, you! What?s dis?? The tall, hideous man held up a small coffee cup. He shook it in the clerk?s face.

The clerk sighed and grumbled as he pulled down a sports magazine from in front of his face. ?Coffee?? He rolled his eyes and began elevating the magazine again.

?Hey, don?t ignore me, dammit!? A meaty hand grabbed the newspaper and shoved it down as his other slammed the coffee cup on the counter. Its contents spilled out and began dripping onto the floor. ?Three times! Ya screwed it up three times dis week.?

?And you want-?

?I wanna know how yer gonna make up fer it!?

?I?m not really in charge. Uh, want another cup of cof-?

?I don?t want any more of yer goddamn coffee!? The man shoved his right hand into his coat, gripped and withdrew a heavy pistol. He pointed it at the clerk?s head. ?I?ll give ya the count to three fer a better solution, pal! I ain?t payin? another euro fer dis overpriced crap! I order one simple drink and you manage to screw it up ? every ? single - time!?

?Please, please, don?t kill me. I don?t make minimum wage just to die! Can?t you just pistol whip me or somethin???

?I paid for these bullets, dammit, don?t tell me what I can or can?t do with ?em!? He pulled back the hammer. ?We wouldn?t even be here if you?d get my order right, dam-? Bap.

Something flicked him roughly in the side of the head, dazing him for a second. The brute turned around to look at the table Lola and Cranberry were sitting at. Cranberry was waving her hand at the man in a lazy fashion, an amused smile crossing her face. Lola was already standing and looked pissed. The clerk took this opportunity to duck behind the counter.

?Who threw that?? the man said, pointing the gun at Lola and Cranberry. ?Was it you?? He pointed the pistol at Cranberry. One of Cranberry?s coffees was missing and she was whistling to herself. She sat back and finished her coffee while Lola jumped into her ?you are under arrest? speech.

?Like hell I?m under arrest!? He turned and aimed the gun at Lola.?What?re you gonna d-?

Cranberry quickly crumpled another empty cup into an impossibly small ball and flicked it. With a slight ?whoop? sound, the ball slid down the barrel of the gun, effectively jamming it at its base.

?What the hell?? The gunman shook his gun, trying to get it out.

?Oh, do not bother.? Cranberry tried a small smirk. ?It is not going to fire.? Lola stood up and walked toward the man. He dropped the gun and turned to run but Lola dashed forward, caught him by his collar and hoisted him up.

?He-hey, lemme down, eh? C-come on, you guys know I was just kidding! Ha-ha, everybody! Ha-ha!? Sweat began to pour down the man?s face.

?Sorry, no way,? said Lola in a serious tone. ?You have threatened a man at gun point, attempted to endanger the lives of everyone in this establishment, and interrupted our coffee break! Now you ARE going to jail to think about what you have done!?

?If- if your crazy friend hadn?t jammed the gun, I?d?a gotten away with it.?

Cranberry walked over, picked up the gun and examined it. ?Oh, it is not jammed,? she said, as if idly curious, while examining the barrel.

?What?!? shouted the man, going bug-eyed while Lola cuffed him.

Cranberry raised her eyes from the gun barrel to the man. She smiled toothily. ?I just said that to mess with you. See, the bullets would have fired regardless. Not that it matters. We would have dodged anyway.?

?Then why?d you do it?!? the thug spat, as Lola dragged him outside, kicking and screaming.

?Oh, I hate hurting people and figured you were stupid enough to fall for it. Guess I was right, huh?? she grinned smugly.

**
Arresting the fool cost Lola the rest of her lunch break. Cranberry stayed around to keep her company. After all was said and done, Lola filed the report and let Cranberry return to class. Cranberry dropped by a different coffee shop, had something sweet to drink, and took a few more minutes to relax before returning to campus. Only four more classes to go today. Just another ordinary day in Mega Frankfurt for Julia ?Cranberry? Pawis.

[wolfman-al]

Sweet!
Its finally there! I love it and I hope it works out well in the later chapters. I have allready made Cranberry an official part of the Airpatrol Universe because I like her so much.

[BlazingBarrager]

Interesting...

[GearRyu]

Time for Chapter 2! Thanks for all the views thus far AND for the comments. I assure you, if you think the story is interesting now, you are going to love what's coming up! I'm happy to say that I have resolved an ending for the story. Everything is going well. At my current rate, I am posting a new chapter every time I finish up the chapter that is two ahead of that one. The plan is to keep the updates regular. Well, enjoy the next chapter, and expect another one to be coming up sometime tomorrow. Also, have a Happy New Years Eve! (And leave comments! :-D)

Chapter 2
?The color of your skin don't matter to me
As long as we can live in harmony

Why can't we be friends?
Why can't we be friends?
Why can't we be friends?
Why can't we be friends??
~ ?Why Can?t We Be Friends,? War

We?re Friends, Right?


?Class dismissed,? declared Professor Fromm.

The 40 students slowly rose then filed out of the night class; amongst them was Cranberry, and her human friend, Lukas. She and Lukas had met during the beginning of the semester. Before Cranberry met Lola, Lukas was the closest thing she had to a friend. Their relationship had always been entirely platonic. They only saw each other in class. Still, at times, Cranberry wondered if there could be more...

She was a tad shy about suggesting anything.

Dr. Fromm?s class was the last class of Cranberry?s long Thursday night. Most people were exhausted by this time. Even other hybrids. She thrived enough to stay and ask questions. Tonight, she planned to have a few words with the professor, whose brain tended to ache after the second or third Cranberry question.

**

?Oh, hey, that?s all right, Cran? said Lukas with a small smile. ?Look, I have to run, anyway. Got a few things to take care of, you know? Next week, same time??

Cranberry nodded. ?Next week, same time. But do your reading this time.? She smirked. ?I dislike having to cover your butt.?

?Eh.? Lukas just shrugged and smiled. ?Toodles.? He turned and walked off, smiling. As he did so, he reached for something in his pants and held it in front of himself.

**
?Question answered, Miss Pawis?? Dr. Fromm tugged his tie a bit and adjusted his glasses. He looked across the hall at the clock on the wall.

?Yes, sir,? replied Cranberry. ?Thank you for your time.? Her tail swished back and forth as she turned to leave.

?Yeah, thank God. Welp, drinking time again.? Dr. Fromm plucked a bottle of something strong out from behind his desk, filled a shot glass, and took a swig.

**
?Cran!? A panicked shout.

Cranberry turned quickly in the direction of the noise. Far out in the distance, her keen eyesight discerned Lukas being accosted by a couple of thugs. It seemed they had already scuffed him up a bit and bruised his eye. Lukas was struggling to throw them off. He was looking in her direction. One of the thugs grabbed him by his hair and yanked him around a corner, behind a building.

?Cran! HELP!? shouted Lukas. And before she knew what was happening, Cranberry was already dashing down the street, and around the corner, where she saw an open manhole. No time to call the police, she told herself. A little nervous, she dropped down into the waiting chamber.

**
She smelled him before she heard him before she saw him. Her hands dug into the thug?s right arm and, with a heavy heave-ho, she flipped him over, knocking him onto his back with a heavy wind-taking thud. The thug groaned in the flicker fire darkness.

?What did you do to Lukas?? she shouted to him, attempting intimidation. The effect was mitigated by her pleasant voice but enhanced by her physical prowess. Cranberry?s eyes were adjusting to the minimal light the lamps on the street above let down into the sewers. She could see several humans standing in the dim light; a gang? Something heavy slid over the manhole above.

??ey, boss,? said one of the men. ?She fell for it! I don?t believe it! Wan?us to cap ?er right now??

?No, no,? said a familiar voice. Cranberry?s heart was thudding softly in her chest. She was tensed, prepared to fight, to save Lukas, when the speaking figure flicked a lighter and lit a cigarette he was holding to his lips. In the soft glow of the cigarette light, she pinpointed Lukas? features. The young man had an expression of controlled determination on his face.

?Lukas?? Cranberry asked, incredulous. ?Lukas, what happened? I saw those thugs drag you down here, but-?

?Jesus, hold it,? said Lukas, pulling the cigarette from his lips and releasing a small luminescent puff of smoke. ?First off, I want to thank Big T and The Mike for helping me pull that little charade. Good job.? Lukas clapped his hands. Cranberry frowned.

?Lukas?? Cranberry backed up against the sewer escape ladder leading back to the surface. She did not want to fight, not this many, not down here, not at all. She knew she would die, or have to kill somebody, because when trapped in a sewer with nothing but mice and angry thugs, your bad day is just getting started.

Lukas raised his left hand in the universal gesture for ?stop?. ?Oh, don?t bother trying to escape, Cran. I had a couple of my boys slide something up there so heavy that three of you couldn?t lift it.?

?Lukas,? shouted Cranberry, trying again to sound intimidating, ?this is NOT funny! I want out of here, now!? She bared her fangs.

?Funny girl,? said Lukas, grinning. ?Isn?t she, boys?? Laughter. As a spent piece of cigarette dropped to the floor, Lukas made a few minute hand gestures. The thugs, half shadow and half matter in this darkness, armed with knives, bats, guns approached. As they did, the illuminated Lukas spoke.

?See, Cran, I?ve never liked you. You?re a hybrid, a freak of nature. You shouldn?t be here. You don?t belong, see? Your kind,? he said, his tone becoming increasingly menacing, ?they?re too fast, too strong? and in your case, too smart. You think that just because you?re genetically engineered, you?re perfect!?

?What?! No! Lukas, this is cra-?

?Shut up! I?ve had enough of these lies! Government propaganda; ?The Hybrid is your friend?, all that bullshit! Was a hybrid my father?s friend when he lost his job because the government figured a genetic freak could do it better?! Do they help by being better than us, domineering, slowly taking over our society? You?re a cancer, every one of you! And you?re no friend of mine!? He clenched his teeth heavily onto the cigarette.

?Lukas,? Cranberry pleaded, even as she extended her claws, preparing to fight (?oh god, I do not want to fight, please god, do not make me fight, I do not want to die, oh god?), ?come on. Let us talk about this? please. This is crazy.?

?What?s that?? Lukas began, as if interested. He smiled and spoke as if talking to a child. ?Crazy? Cran, this whole world?s crazy. I?m just setting things right.? Lukas plucked the cigarette from his lips. The embers glowed a mystic orange against the shadows. ?Night vision goggles on, boys. Do her up just like the last four.? He flicked the orange stick into the running sewage. It expired instantly, and in the crowding darkness, a horde of shadowy figures descended on Cranberry.


**
When faced with fight vs. flight, those in heavy doubt of their victory will often choose the latter option. Some wise strategists know when to leave a single escape route open (however impossible escape actually is) to make a confused opponent fight less vigorously than he would if his only option was to fight. When cornered, a coward becomes a challenge.

Cranberry had, to this night, never raised a paw in self-defense. The event at the coffee shop was her most exciting physical activity outside of the hunting grounds. Like all sphinx, she possessed a natural physiology that made her superior to human beings, at least physically. For example, the thugs required night vision goggles, whereas Cranberry?s eyes were naturally attuned to the darkness. Cranberry tossed herself against the first lumbering body she saw. Sharp claws knifed through clothing and into flesh. The thug screamed and brought his elbow down against her head, buffeting her with a lucky blow and knocking her off guard for a second. Cranberry danced back through the darkness, slightly dazed, as poorly aimed pistols sent bullets whizzing through the darkness. They missed and embedded themselves in the eroding sewer walls.

Passing seconds were making Cranberry careless. She pounced at one of the men moving into one of the shadows. Her momentum stalled as a heavy object thudded against her arching back. Her target tackled Cranberry, attempting to pin the struggling girl to the ground. Her powerful muscles quickly tensed, then tugged, shifting rapidly enough to keep herself loose and claw at him. Sharp, lancing pain filled the space between two ribs and breathing suddenly became difficult. Something was stuck there for a split-second. When it came out, the pain became worse. Heavy pains of all kinds built up in the darkness around Cranberry; a giggling, chortling mass of fleshy shadows drowned out her growls of fear and fury. In the background, she picked up the sound of Lukas? faint, humorous laughter.

**
Cranberry screamed and (black bloody) drowned (hurts?) out (need to escape?) - She did not want (heart beat, beating heart, ka-thud, ka-thud, will burst) to die here, not in the darkness? she would do anything to escape (break free, claws). The battering (so easy to give in) continued (pain is gone!). She tried to lunge (heave) outward, and was dragged (weight?) back in. She tried (growl?) to spring outward with all her fury, but (pressure, suffocating) was dragged back in. She wanted to live? (oh god, it hurts, noise is loud) she WOULD (red, so much red, want more red, paint the sewer red) live! SHE ? WOULD ? LIVE! (bleed them white and you can make everything go away?).

**
Cranberry?s right hand snaked out, grabbed a baseball bat and tore it from the victimizer?s hand. It cracked slightly as she squeezed upon the wood. Her powerful arm swelled with strength and swung it around in a wide arc, buffeting the invading shadows to the tune of heavy cracks. Strong legs broke free of the shadows and thrust through the thick. Screams echoed down the sewer passages as the sensation of knives darting ripped through the dark forms. Choking. Dripping. A powerful figure with eyes like hellfire lurched in the darkness. Muscular, sharp-toothed, long-clawed, predatory. Small objects flew toward it and passed by harmlessly.

Something akin to twisted laughter rose along the sewer walls in the dirt and heat. One of the thugs hunched forward and doubled-up and spilled his vitals upon the ground. A powerful, long back leg swung upward and caught another ? he gasped but could not speak because of the newly displaced vocal chords dangling from a set of claws. The leg swung about, lifting both carcasses before dropping them once more. One swung into another of their companions, whom was knocked into the sewage water.

Shouting in the darkness. Spent bullets fell to the ground in tune to a garbled beat. Guns primed, triggers pulled, their firing rate constant repeat. The snails crawled by, perchance to die, while they saw another feat.

The creature turned toward the bullets as it passed by them, laughed, and snatched one from the air. It flicked it at one of the frightened shades and was delighted by the strange noise his throat made when the bullet embedded itself within his Adam?s Apple. The two other gunners kept firing, shouting obscenities, and screaming for someone to kill the bitch.

Their screams to nothing came.

**
Lukas excused himself from the hopeless slaughterfest during those few seconds. He was walking first, trying not to attract attention. In the distance, he heard a plea for mercy become an echoing shriek accompanying a demonic cheetah?s growl.

Fuck it. Run. Just needed to make it to the nearest unsecured manhole. Get out of here before the freak finished slaughtering everyone else and realized he was missing. He ran.

And then he heard the growling again, but it was no longer in the passage he had left behind. It was behind him, far away in the darkness, its echoes traveling forward.

Heat began to flood his muscles as he pushed them harder, hoping to escape. Perspiration formed on his brow.

The growling darkness loomed closer, breaking the silence again. Lukas? back arched as he felt malicious eyes boring down upon him. His eardrums pulsed with the beat of blood and the clickity-clank of bloody claws scraping against the ancient sewer mortar.

Faster! His lungs felt like they could explode! His feet hardly touched the ground! The world distorted and the darkness pulsed with an iris of white and grey! Incredulous laughter rose as he looked ahead.

A ladder leading to freedom!

He did not hear himself laugh. He did not hear himself say, ?Oh, thank God! Jesus Christ! I?m free! I?m out of here! YOU WON?T CATCH ME NOW, YOU FREAK!? He practically tossed himself at the sewer escape, leaping into the air and grabbing onto the bars for dear life. No more growling.

He gasped, and he looked back into the darkness. NO more searing red eyes. Oh, thank God. NO more red eyes. She must have gotten tired, and given u-

Lukas screamed as he looked up the sewer escape. A pair of gleaming red eyes stared down at him. Something growled.

**
As Cranberry flung herself into her orange artificial leather arm chair, she attempted to recall what happened earlier that night? when did she last see Lukas? As he? left class, right? How did she get home? Lukas left class? she left class? she must have walked home? Cranberry could not recall walking home.

She dug her claws unto the artificial leather of her chair?s upholstery. The more she tried to recall, the more rage built within her. It ached so. Cranberry had to take a deep breath and calm herself down. She could not recall ever feeling so angry.

She tried harder. Lukas left class. She left class. She wanted to tear the flesh from his face. She wanted to claw him to death. She- Cranberry gripped her head! The headache stopped building as soon as she stopped trying to recall. That is right. She had coffee with Lola earlier today. She went to class. The lecture was interesting and she stayed afterward to talk to the professor a bit. Then she walked home. She was very distracted, since she spent the walk thinking of her papers due on Friday. That is right.

Cranberry stifled an unbecoming giggle, wondering why she was so frustrated over this. She lolled her tongue in her mouth. Strange taste as her tongue went along her teeth. Oh, right, must have been something she ate along the way. She picked up a sandwich along the way home, but the taste was not quite right. That is right.

That is right.

[wolfman-al]

Did I tell you that I love you?

[Wes13]

Great Job Ryu. I like it!

[GearRyu]

Thanks for the continued views, my fellow processors! It's good to see this story getting such a positive review from the commentators too. By the way, if you have any questions as the story is going along, I'll see what I can do to answer them. I won't do any plot reveals, but mostly everything else is fair game.

Also, I hope you all enjoyed your New Years Eve. It's 2009! Let's make it the best we can!

Chapter 3
?And you may ask yourself, ?Well, how did I get here??
?
And you may ask yourself
Am I right? ? Am I wrong?
And you may tell yourself,
My God! What have I done??
~?Once in a Lifetime,? Talking Heads

Better than Ever

When Cranberry awoke the next day, the previous evening had all but faded from memory. She stretched in the chair, wondering why she had fallen asleep in it? naked.

She stood up and swished her tail back and forth. She felt good. Exceedingly so. What time was it? ? who cared? She didn?t care? ? Breakfast! That would clear her head? She sat at her breakfast table and poured herself some milk. She proceeded to saturate it with part of a box of sugar and ate the glucose-heavenly substance. Then she stood up and went to get dressed.

This was when she consciously noticed things were odd. First, every shirt she tried on was snug. Getting the shirt over her head was easy. Over her shoulders, arms and chest, material size became a problem. She panicked a tad when she heard the stitching give as she tried pulling the third one on. The problem persisted with her other garments. She had to dismiss the idea that her clothes had shrunk. She normally liked most of her outer garments just a little bit baggy? she pawed around for her signature fedora and army jacket, but they were missing. She bit her lower lip in nervousness, drawing a bit of blood, but the wound healed seconds later.

She walked to her bathroom and looked into the mirror.

Cranberry?s reflection stood a few centimeters taller than Cranberry remembered herself and her petite frame now seemed voluptuously toned. Perhaps her tail and legs were slightly longer, her breasts a little bigger, and her ears somewhat perkier. Her muscles felt larger, which explained some of it. She was not certain how, but she was different and it frightened her; plus, her hair had grown several centimeters, allowing the blonde roots of her dyed-cranberry hair to show visibly.

?My hair,? she grumbled and tugged at it. ?Argh. I just had this dyed again three weeks ago! Freaking?! I cannot go to class like this,? she growled, and slammed one of her paws into the glass pane of her mirror, shattering it to a score of pieces.

?Woah, calm down?? she told herself.

?Calm down. You can handle this. Pressure never gets to you?? Cranberry took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Then she closed her eyes, took a resolute step forward, promptly stepped on a broken shard of glass, and kicked the sink pipes hard.

**
By the time the janitor had fixed the leak, Cranberry?s day was just getting started. She had missed enough class trying to keep the bathroom from flooding and destroying the dorm room she called home, plus factoring in that she had somehow slept past noon? AND she now needed a new wardrobe, hair cut and dye, and to find her fedora and jacket, ESPECIALLY the fedora. It was her favorite?

She forced herself, with some difficulty, into jeans and a shirt she wore two days ago and an old pair of running shoes. It was about as comfortable as being shrinkwrapped and looked about as modest. Grown just a little? she told herself. Some perfectly reasonable explanation for it and nobody in class would notice. Nobody in a class of 20 people who saw her, the only sphinx they probably ever associated with, every day. With a heavy sigh, Cranberry picked up her books and headed to class. She pretended she didn?t hear a very slight snap in one of her jeans? stitches along the lower leg. Nobody would notice?

**
People were staring. If she thought it was just because she was a sphinx, she could have dealt with it. But it had everything to do with the little changes she had been experiencing. Under their collective gaze, she felt the pressure to respond in some way. So she did. The split-second her ultra-sensitive hearing picked up the first tick of the ending bell, or the first syllable of ?class dismissed?, she was out the door no more than three seconds later. She zoomed from classroom to classroom at top-notch speed, doing almost everything except bounce off the walls.

A little part of her wanted to do just that. Show off. Why should she care what they thought? But she resisted the impulse. That had been a problem today. Her impulses had been subdued for the past some-20 years, but today they would not shut the hell up. Her patience had dissolved into a firm grip on a heavily greased rope. And the increasing snugness of her clothing was only making it worse. After her second class, she itched at her shirt and heard it tear against the swell of her left breast. She kept her arm down over it for most of the rest of the day.

**
The day drifted into afternoon. The sun hovered on the horizon, refusing to wink out on the spectacle. The stress of class, stares, the memory lapse, body changing and missing clothing finally got to her, and she left in the middle of class to go to the prey hunting center. She had to unwind. She nearly knocked some guy?s head off in one of the classes. That was bad. That was not g- TURKEY!

A flurry of yellow and white leapt forward and seized the turkey by its neck, broke it, and held it aloft.

The speaker phone came on. ?Congratulations, Ms. Pawis. You have bagged your fifth turkey. One hundred euros will be transferred from your account.?

Cranberry dropped the turkey. One-hundred? Five turkeys? She looked at her feet and scanned the area. There were the remains of four turkeys sitting in the area. Oh God. She had lost control. A heavy sigh on her lips, she picked up the last turkey and headed out the door back into the rear lounge area of the prey hunting center. Just then, the speaker phone came back on.

?A-mazing! Five turkeys in less than a minute. A new record. Ms. Pawis is our Hunter of the Month!? Cranberry went home, quickly. Her clothes were torn up and she felt it most prominently on her curves. Everywhere else, it was still tight, as the clothing clung to supple muscles that hid beneath her smooth fur, but which flexed with hidden strength. Clothes shopping tomorrow. She could forget class for right now. Get her hair dyed. Have some cereal. Get some sleep. ? At least Winter Break was next week.

[Anurubius]

nice

[wolfman-al]

Wonderfull!
Now we?re cooking!

[GearRyu]

Onward to Chapter 4! The writing continues to get more fun as the story progresses. I love to hear what people think about it. Helps me improve as a writer and also lets me know how much you are enjoying it. Well, I suppose the view count helps with that too! Thanks for continuing to read. By the way, I am considering getting into the business of doing commissioned pieces of writing. This is purely theoretical at this stage, but I'd like to get some feedback on that. Well, enjoy!

Chapter 4
?Gummed up, brain dead and can?t decide
You can?t pray enough, you can?t hide
You can be cool or you can cry
Do it wrong
Not at all
Or do it right?
~Kanno Yoko, ?Ask DNA?

Shop if you Gotta
When Cranberry awoke the next morning, she threw aside the plain green comforter and hopped out of bed. She opened the door to her bathroom and looked in the mirror. An expression of equal mirth and discomfort crossed her face as she saw what had become of her. She knew now she was going to regret not finding time to go to the clothing store yesterday. Then again, she might as well have waited, a pessimistic voice opined. Or go naked, she grimaced. Her chest and hips had certainly swelled. It was hard to tell, though, because she had gained at least another five centimeters. Whatever frustrations this might?ve caused, she noticed something which balanced it all out ? for now. Her hair had miraculously dyed itself back to the roots as a cranberry shade. She might have actually felt relieved, even happy with the rest of the changes, if they didn?t make her stand out more than she already did. At least Winter Break had begun. Maybe she would see a doctor about the changes. At the moment, though, she just was much more eager to take a shower and then find some clothes that fit!

**
A little bit later that morning, Cranberry was being stared at again for the same reason as last time, only a bit more obviously.

When she had searched her closet, Cranberry took more time to look over her selection than she did the last time. After trying numerous fittings, she found a red sweater, kept the jeans from yesterday, and grabbed a rain coat. The sweater stopped about her midriff and clung nicely to the swell of her breasts. Her jeans fit easily over her waist and slid down to the swell of her hips, where the split in her jeans from yesterday just widened from the increased stress. That is why she put on the raincoat. It came down to her knees and it pinched her around the waist when she buttoned it. At least it covered the rips and her midriff? even if it didn?t do jack for her chest.

As she pushed through the crowd of people at the mall, Cranberry pretended that nobody was staring at her. She kept her eyes locked on either directories or store signs, never meeting the eyes of another person, whose eyes were probably on her chest, which she was trying to cover with her hands, which was a magnificent flop of an affair. It took a little self-control to not raise her voice and shout or slam somebody, or just barrel through the crowd to get to her destinations as soon as possible. Instead, she let herself get squished by the press of the crowd.

Rows of clothing stores lined every avenue of the mall and none of them worked. Cranberry glanced into a window shop, looking upon elegant dresses of green, black and lavender. Far too fancy. Down on her left, she saw trendy shirts and designer jeans; they?d probably conform to her curves, emphasize her butt, draw attention to her figure. Everything she didn?t want. There was a store on one end for people who spent plenty of time outdoors. A nice dream? not now. Lingerie? No! She didn?t even have time to date! Clothing for exceptionally tall or curvy? No, no? not her, not at all? didn?t a single store in the entire mall sell something decent?!

**
Cranberry?s crusade for decency continued for a few stores more. She finally settled on a large warehouse style place called Cristof?s. She was confronted with dozens of rows of odd-matched jeans, shorts, pants, dresses, shirts, sweaters, coats, shoes, sandals, slippers, hats, scarves, mittens, socks, and choices that she didn?t think had categorizing terms yet. However, amongst the countless rows of new and used clothes, she hoped to find something, ANYTHING, that looked better than the raincoat-sweater ensemble. With a little good fortune, maybe even a new fedora and army jacket.

**
After searching for what felt like hours, Cranberry managed to put together enough clothes to make a new wardrobe. She managed to find a replacement for her missing favorites, but it didn?t feel quite the same. Like losing a family heirloom and buying a replica. This would just have to do.

As she moved toward the checkout counter to pay, something caught her ear. She was about to step out of line when she realized she could suddenly hear it clearly, much more clearly than she should have. She listened to it even as she paid for her bundle of clothing.

?? -the sewers. Yesterday, sewage maintenance staff found a corpse in the waterways. Local police were contacted and an investigation was conducted. According to early police reports, there were signs of some sort of struggle occurring recently in the sewers near Megafrankfurt University. Police say clues indicate some sort of possible gang warfare violence broke out. Similar acts of violence have been conducted in the area previously. No other bodies or leads have been discovered and the supposed gang member remains unidentified??

Cranberry pushed open the door leading into the janitor sideroom where the news was playing. She locked eyes with an underground scene, a sewer, looking very familiar.

?The water supply has since been declared safe pursuant to an investigation conducted by the city. No further developments are to be expected, but citizens are warned to stay out of the sewers. A task that this reporter thinks most people won?t have any trouble following.?

**
?I need to really, really take a vacation,? Cranberry told herself, fidgeting out of her old jeans.

A moment ago, Cranberry recalled the sewer event for the first time, triggered by the announcement. She slipped into the changing room, needing something to distract her mind from flipping out over the realization THAT SHE KILLED PEOPLE! Slam! She left a dent in one of the changing room walls.

?Is everything okay in there?? A monitoring clerk?s voice called out from somewhere nearby.

?Everything is fine,? Cranberry called back in mousy voice. But everything wasn?t fine. Sure, it was self-defense. She couldn?t be faulted for that. They pulled weapons on her. She couldn?t just stand there. And beside, the police weren?t going to look into it any further. It didn?t change the fact that she KILLED people. And she wasn?t in control. She?d never lost control before. But that night? the most hectic parts still returned only as vivid illusions on the rim of consciousness. What she needed wasn?t a doctor, she told herself. What she needed was to take a break, get out of town while Winter Break was going on. Maybe she had been a little too cooped up after all this time. Stress got to people, right? Well, that was fine, then? and as for her growing problem, well, it would stop or it wouldn?t. At worst, she?d just have to see a doctor eventually (later, she told herself, much later).

At that moment, she received a call. Who? ? Oh, Lola.

?Lola? Hi, how is it going?? Cranberry pulled a pair of gaudy striped socks over her large feet. A little snug.

?It?s going great! Say, you?re on Winter Break, right? What?cha got planned? Anything special? C?mon, tell me!?

Shoes. These were big. Too big. She could not wear these shoes by any means. Her feet would just pop right out of them as soon as she took a couple steps. But, no, they fit her large paws perfectly, oh joy?

?Well, I am planning on going out of town. Just, you know, wherever the wind takes me. I know, I do not leave the city often, but I think I need a little change of pace. A chance to stretch my legs?? She stretched them? why were they so long? She knew they had always been long, but this was? okay, these were toned. Very toned, and they curved well with her hips, which were wider than they had any right being, which made eyes go down and up, up and down, d-

?Oh, awesome! Man, I wish I could come but crime never sleeps! Well, that and my work schedule. Darn it. I want to go! Oh, but, hey, if you don?t have a place you?re really dead set on going, why not go up to the mountains? I hear they?re beautiful this time of year. You could probably get some exercise, do some running, do some hunting. It?d be fun!?

?Sounds like it? I think I will do just that. Thank you, Lola.? Cranberry grabbed the army jacket and pulled it over her shoulders. She didn?t feel so naked any more. Just? taking up too much space.

?No problem. Well, I better get back to work! Duty calls!?

**
Upon returning home, Cranberry immediately began packing things. She wasn?t in a terribly great hurry, but she did want to leave the first thing next morning. Now that she had a new set of clothing (and a practically empty account, yay), Cranberry felt a little more at ease. It was while she was packing her toothbrush that she heard a knock at the door.

Who could it be? She wasn?t expecting anybody. Cranberry left her suitcase and padded over to the door. She looked through the peephole and saw a man outside dressed in a delivery man?s uniform. He was carrying a package under his right arm.

?Hello, yes, can I help you??

?Uh, yeah, I have a package for?? The man examined a label on the package. ?Miss Julia Pawis.?

?Oh, yes, that is me. I was not expecting anything. Who is it from?? Her curiosity was piqued.

?It doesn?t say. Um, I have other deliveries. Are you going to sign for it or not?? He glanced back at his truck, which he had left idling.

?Yes, yes.? She opened the door, quickly signed for the package, and snatched it from the man. She caught his eye as he was staring, of course, at her che- slammed the door in his face. She locked it and turned to examine it. Heavy? not that heavy? then again, she felt stronger. What could be inside? She smiled to herself. Perhaps something good on a bad day. She sniffed the package for a scent. Nothing remarkable. In fact, no return address either. Her heart began to beat faster. She could think of only one person who would send her an untraceable package.

She was clutching the package to her chest like a trophy as she walked across the carpet to her bedroom. She dropped the package on the bed, moved her suitcase to the side, and leaned over it. Cranberry extended her claws and quickly ripped the package asunder. Then she reached in, claws retracted, and pulled out her prize.

The sleek polish of a beautiful cherry wood box rested on the bed. Its elegant simplicity invited contact, investigation and discovery. Such a mysterious prize called for a gentle touch, which Cranberry could provide. Her tail swung back and forth, whapping against the artificial orange leather of her chair. Cranberry lifted the box, turned it and spotted a telltale latch.

The sphinx? tail wrapped around her narrow waist and squeezed in eager anticipation. ?How beautiful,? she thought to herself as she unhooked the latch. The oiled hinges slid apart, which allowed the box to open, unveiling the mirrored surfaces of the holojector. Cranberry saw her reflection. The reflection reminded her of the inexplicable changes she had already been through. Instead of admiring her reflection, Cranberry placed the holojector on the coffee table in front of her and waited for the device to boot up.

A metallic cobalt blue pyramid appeared on the space between two of the mirrors, floating in the ether; a band of text slowly revolved around it clockwise, reading ?Prometheus Holotech?. High quality retail. The pyramid expanded, becoming a field of blue. Now there was a message written in yellow block letters, suspended in air, beneath which were two words, one in green, the other in red. The message read, ?View Your Hologram now?? The green word was ?Yes?, the red word was ?No?.
She pressed her choice, then sat back. The words melded together and mutated into black cursive text reading ?Enjoy?, then ?Now Loading??

A few seconds later, the ?Now Loading?? vanished along with the blue field, and the figure of a man replaced it.

He looked familiar. His image was frozen in time, as though awaiting a command. The young sphinx? eyes scrolled over every texture, even reaching out to touch the image, though her finger passed straight through it.

The man in the hologram was not young. Nor was he old. He was middle-aged, though late middle-aged at that. Age had not stooped his thin figure, but it had certainly sapped the vitality from his limbs. He wore a spotless frayed white lab coat, blue jeans, and white dress shoes. The thin man was not especially tall or short, but of average height. His hair was short and salt-and-pepper gray. His face was crossed with a small smile and his eyes were a gleeful green. The figure stood there, his hands in his lab coat pockets.

??? Memories flashed through Cranberry?s mind. That face. Again and again. ?? Father?? she said, with awe-inspired certainty that surprised herself.

As if on cue, the figure gesticulated and began to move, as though freed from stasis. His first words were, ?My dear Julia, I knew you would recognize me.? His voice was smooth and even, with a hint of pleasure behind it. ?Yes, I am your creator? my name is Dr. Felix Noh.? A long uncomfortable pause. ?Well, there it is.? He seemed at a loss for a moment as to how continue.

This was getting a little weird. Was the stress of college getting to her mind and causing her to hallucinate? How she hoped that was not the case or, if it were, that the hallucination would continue.

?I prepared this hologram without knowing when it would reach you, so you?ll have to pardon me for not congratulating whatever success I am certain you are experiencing with your impressive intellect. Yes, most impressive. Have you ever wondered about your own brilliance? It, along with your current state, is the result of the greatest experiment in bio-engineering ever undertaken. An experiment of which I am the sole author.? His smile broadened. ?I imagine you are overjoyed with the transformation you have begun to undergo.?

Overjoyed?! This ?change? had ruined her entire week, her entire wardrobe, perhaps her entire life.

?I can?t predict the exact nature of the transformation, but I can at least tell you how it works. The responses are entirely to your environs and mentality. That is to say, your transformation shall compensate for anything which you might lack.?

Like perhaps the need to fit into her old clothes, or the need to get the incessant howl of her instincts to quiet.


?Just wonderful. If I am still alive to see what has been wrought, I hope to someday meet you in person. With your gift, you will exceed all your cousins. Make me proud, my greatest experiment; my daughter.?

?Proud?? she pulled back her bangs. ?Doing what? I did not ask for this!?

The hologram of her father said, ?Hologram ? End ? End.? The hologram vanished, replaced by the words, ?Replay? Quit??

Cranberry sat and pondered. She sighed, and pressed?

**
Cranberry had already watched the hologram play through twice now. She was on her third viewing, scrutinizing every word, when she noticed something interesting?

?-you are overjoyed-?

Cranberry?s eyes widened. ?Hologram ? Pause!?

She studied her father?s figure. What was on that lapel under the corner of his collar?

?Zoom.? She said, and with that, a grid of hexagons fell comfortably over every contour of the figures on the hologram. She pressed a claw against a hexagon covering the exposed portion of the lapel. And again. And again. Until she could clearly make out the design. She studied it for a moment. Was it upside down?

?Flip.? Rotation markers appeared on the edges of the hologram. She flipped the image over and stared intently. The design looked like some sort of golden spoked wheel, but she could not distinguish it for certain.

She would remember it, though. And perhaps one day discover where it came from. Find her father. Get the answers. Was he anything like she had hoped? She wasn?t sure any longer? but if he was influencing her life, she had to know more about him. With a sigh, Cranberry closed the box and tried a browser search for ?Felix No? and a number of other variations, including the proper spelling, all without results. The man didn?t exist. Well, she would have to think on this one. And she?d have time. Tomorrow, suitcase in hand, she was going to take a very long walk.