My Beloved Monster and Me

(I owe the setting and initial ideas for this story to The Armageddon Virus RP forum.

And, I owe all of Strig's entries to my main RP partner. He has given consent to list his posts thus.)

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More than two centuries from now, in the year 2222, Earth has been ravaged by the biochemical agent now referred to as the Armageddon Virus. During the onslaught of WWIII in 2014, North Korea let loose the disease on America, and from there, it quickly spread all across the world. People infected with the Virus morphed into strange and fearsome creatures called Specters with incomprehensible abilities.

In 2019, the Sanctuary was built in Canada, and it is now said that it houses all human life on earth beneath its enormous rafters. Humans live a very different lifestyle now, breeding is only for the select few, the old are discreetly discarded, and the sick are humanely euthanized. The people placidly follow their government in all things and anxiously wait for the government's elite group of warriors, the Rubix, to exterminate all the Specter vermin left on Earth.

However, this is not the only human settlement. In the wastelands outside these protective walls, there are colonies scattered in the few remaining safe areas. There are nomadic tribes and gangs of outlaws traveling the cracked, barren desert.

We look now to the settlement of Yellowknife, where a young girl with hair the color of rusting brass has found refuge in the night. Her name, as she understands it, is Kuramidi.

By some fluke in the new, strange genetic pool, Kuramidi was born with turquoise hair. She wears dark clothes, and keeps favorite tools handy on various belts and garters. She will always be found wearing her complex goggles... and inexplicable cat-ear hat and feline tail. She is a scientist at heart, and prefers not to be violent if at all possible. The contraptions she builds from random parts do more for escape and camouflage than combat.

The A-Virus may mutate most, and has had a strange effect on the current human gene pool at large, but the only visible mutation is her hair color. Other than that, her intuitive eye for mechanics could be a result of human evolution, but she does not, nor will probably ever have, any supernatural abilities. She has read of these things extensively.

She remembers little of her childhood, and to her knowledge, has been living on her own since at least 10. Her first memory is of waking up in an abandoned library, doors and windows shuttered with metal and countless jugs of decontaminant littered everywhere. Upon further inspection of the facility, she discovered the library's archive to be stocked with military regulation MREs from a decade before. She spent her formative years around books, and learned just about everything she knows thusly.

Now, having left the library in search of better spare parts, she finds her supplies where she can, and has always had a wonderful knack at disappearing when danger approaches.

But... now that she has discovered the small community at Yellowknife, and has been welcomed into their midst... can she really expect to live a normal human life after being alienated for so long?

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Kuramidi had some adjustment to make- being around fellow humans after a lifetime of intentional solitude- but did not mind the abundance of sustenance. She did, however, tire of the simple functions of the mechanical mender, and struck out once more into the desolate waste to find more complex components for her intricate designs.

She left, of course, after sunset (as she was wont; her circadian rhythm hadn't changed quite yet). She stealthily sneaked from a handy window, taking care to make as little sound as a feline on the hunt (her cat-ears hat and tail unintentionally added to this illusion).

Kura knew the area somewhat, and had a small indentation in the nearby rock face which she had called her own for a fortnight prior to her induction into the colony at Yellowknife. There were still MREs, water jugs, several large containers of antiviral disinfectant solution, a portable chemist's kit, and all her best mechanical components tucked away there. She intended to collect them into her over sized backpack and return to the collective... but part of her was tempted to stay. It would take several trips as it was... why not make trips to the colony to procure more sustenance instead? It wasn't as if there was any promise in staying with the colony... all of her basic survival needs would be met, but there was always that primal drive to continue the species. She had found no intelligent, fit, or otherwise suitable donors with which to procreate. Might as well give up on all of them.

But... maybe she hadn't given them a proper chance to prove themselves?

She pondered this dilemma as she made her way quietly to the rocky overhang, glancing at the sickly yellow sickle of the moon hanging ominously on a starless and dirty brown-black horizon.

~~

Strig's eyes snapped open.

Blood, meat, food, blood, heartbeat on the breeze, food!

"Be quiet!" He hissed at himself.

With effort, he forced the hunger to subside, and silenced the hunter's monologue that had once again disturbed his sleep.

"Not every warm body constitutes a meal" He quoted from his father's teachings. "Let them prove themself."

He repeated this twice more to himself, letting the familiar words encourage his brain to take the reigns, rather than his stomach.

Removing himself from his mothballed excuse for a bed, Strig sniffed the air. Someone was indeed approaching, alone, the wind at their back. They smelled... nicer? than usual, maybe? There on the one hand was the smell of meat, which prevailed always from the direction of the Yellowknife colony, but this was newer, closer, different, pleasantly different, unknown, approaching...

No, passing close by... maybe.

Strig dressed himself, feeling abruptly glad of this development. His food stocks were starting to deplete themselves, if this was another raider or general purpose meaty malefactor than he would slit their throat and sate himself upon them. If not, well then it would be nice to have someone to talk to for a while. He would bid them good morning, explain away his serrated teeth, assure them he meant them no harm and probably get a gun pointed at him for his trouble.

'I'll kill you if you come any closer!' was all he ever seemed to hear from most people, and they always seemed so surprised when he turned and walked away.

"A good start to the day." He muttered to himself. "One way or the other."

And thus he set out from the empty, ruined village that was his home, following his nose towards this nearby wayfarer.

~~

Once she reached her little alcove, she tore open an MRE for supper. Or, perhaps this was breakfast? Why put a name to meals? Such a strange custom.

It was something called "beef creole" which she had never cared for, but always had loved the cheese packets and large crackers it came with. Apparently, there was also a packet of berry cobbler, which was also a nice surprise. She settled into a dusty corner, her large night-vision goggles aiding her in search of that elusive "tear here" notch in the bag.

She paused for a moment, head snapping upward in alarm. She thought she heard the thump of footsteps. Large footsteps.

Shambling, almost.

The unmistakable gate of one contaminated.

Specters? Here? But she hadn't seen any contaminated humans for kilometers! And, they normally traveled in packs, didn't they?

She dropped the MRE, grasping for the lever on her back pack. If it was danger, she knew how to protect herself. No time to lead it away from her store of supplies. Her back was against the wall. Quite literally.

~~

She'd noticed him. (The scent of female was now unmistakable). Her heartbeat had sped up, the pounding in his ears was consistent with prey close to flight.

No one had ever caught him out so soon before, no one save for the odd spectre, but those were fights, not hunts, and this was no spectre. The smell was all wrong.

She will run, run, run away and you will run after her and snap her in two and eat of...

Strig nearly snarled at his own brain, but that would only give the wrong impression to whoever it was he had followed, and he was becoming less inclined to think that this was a viable food creature he'd tracked down.

He had to speak to her, even if it was only to shout 'hello' at her back as she charged away. He had to get close enough.

With his fanged mouth fully closed, and his clawed hands stuffed into his hole riddled trousser pockets, Strig continued onwards. It wasn't long before he noticed a flash of greenish hair in the distance.

He stopped. The distance made her barely a stick figure to his eyes, stood against a rock face. He could tell that she was staring at him. If he simply walked towards her, she could so easily draw a weapon and dispatch him. He was in plain view, his natural weapons would avail him none.

The smart thing to do would be to turn back, not to risk a potentially fatal provocation, wait for the next non-food person to pass his way.

Yes, that was the sensible option.

He started to walk towards her.

~~

As the specter neared, Kura clenched the lever with force. She was tempted to just yank it, but she wasn't entirely sure if this was, indeed, a contaminant. She hesitantly flipped down the next set of goggle-lenses with a quivering hand. The thing was crawling with various bacteria and a macrocosm of microorganisms... but nary was there a trace of the H16N9 Virus.

She drew her hand away from the lever bit by bit. It may be a lost member of the colony. She flipped down her second set of lenses, and was able to identify the being as a male. She also identified dried blood on his only garment- a very torn and ragged pair of trousers. He may be injured. Possibly weakened by malnutrition and dehydration.

Then she heard the thing grunt with an animal's voice. Her hand shot back to the lever.

There was really only one answer to this strange situation. She had to hail the man.

"G...greetings!" she called with a wavering, tiny voice. "Are... a-are you injured?"

~~

EAT HER!

"No!" Strig screamed, his hands flying to his head. He couldn't stop himself this time. For so long with only himself to talk to, such utterances and gestures were inevitable.

The small woman jumped and her hand shot to a lever on her backpack. A weapon of some kind to be sure.

"Wait!" He said, fighting a sudden stabbing pain in his stomach.

Fool, fool foolsie Strig moron putz. You've wandered into the wastes on an empty stomach and now here you stand with a nice, non-nasty human feline person before you. Can you imagine how this will end? I can. Heeeeeeeee

"Forgive me." He said, stepping backwards. "I am, not injured, exactly. I just..."

How ill equipped he was for this. His stomach screaming at him, his brain devoid of any introductory sentences.

Well, his rational mind said to itself. Naught for it but to be honest.

"I smel... uh, noticed you from my village, some miles back from where I walked. I wanted to meet you, as I meet all who pass my way. Forgive me my strange manner, I mean you no harm."

Another stabbing pain in his gut. He could smell the blood beneath her skin. Hear it coursing through her veins, smell the warm meat on her bones. Unless another meal presented himself and quickly, he would have to flee. Or else his instincts would take over.

~~

She jolted when the man screamed a negative, in answer to her query. Her hand shot to the lever and tugged lightly, in reaction.

At least he was not injured... and at least somewhat sentient. That verified he was not a H16N9 contaminant.

"Wait!" he shouted next. So, Kura waited. For what, she did not know.

Her breath was still more rapid than normal, and her surge of adrenaline was still causing her knees to twitch and hands to shake.

"Forgive me." the man said, stepping back. "I am, not injured, exactly. I just..."

Another pause. Kura ascertained that he was, indeed, malnourished/dehydrated. His emaciated torso, gaunt face, drastically chapped and peeling lips, and ragged breath were all clear signs. A strange sensation crept over the back of her psyche. She felt the need to help him.

"I smel... uh, noticed you from my village, some miles back from where I walked. I wanted to meet you, as I meet all who pass my way. Forgive me my strange manner, I mean you no harm." he rasped.

Kura's hand dropped from the lever, and she bent cautiously to pick up the MRE she had been trying to open moments ago.

"I have sustenance." she held up the package. "Approximately four thousand calories... and some electrolyte replenishment packets for water." She slid her heavy backpack from her shoulders, stepping forward with the MRE outstretched in one small, white hand.

~~

With the last strength that his mind possessed, Strig resisted the urge to snatch at the food that this woman offered him. Now that alternate sustenance was available, the panic subsided, giving him clarity enough to be civil.

"Thank you." He said quietly, reaching out ever so slowly towards her small hand with his own, taloned equivalent. With methodical slowness, he plucked the MRE in the same way as a lethargic marsh harrier might snatch a slumbering weasel.

"Thank you." He said again, sighing with relief. Then, turning his back, he knelt to the floor and promptly set to the annihilation of his meal.

He tried not to be indecent or noisy, but with food finally available there was only so much he could do to restrain himself.

Strig tore at it all, forcing the life giving food down his throat, ripping larger pieces to ribbons with his fangs, and he downed each electrolyte replenishment packet in rapid succession. When this was done he sat very still for a good few moments. In that time, his skin seemed to grow every so slightly less pale. His breathing grew more steady, and the involuntary growling that accompanied one too many breaths ceased.

When he stood back up he was relieved to see that she was still there, observing him through those peculiar goggles of hers.

With the hunger pushed back to ignorable levels, he could finally look upon this woman without seeing a potential meal. Though, rather annoyingly, his sense of chivalry was also somewhat restored and it compelled him not to stare too closely, or for too long.

She had saved his life, or her own, or both. She had saved either herself or himself from becoming a murderer.

Strig's eyes began to flare with anger and he closed them tightly. What a fucking fool he'd been. Breakfast must never be missed for any reason, in case starvation lead to madness as had so very nearly happened. His father had told him that day after day. It was a matter of life or death and he had forsaken this golden rule so that he might chase after some mystery scent just because it smelled 'different from food' somehow.

Forgive me. He said silently to his late father's spirit, wherever it may be.

His eyes reopened.

"Thank you." He said again. "I... I am in your debt."

~~

Kura watched with only minor trepidation as the poor starved thing ate. She observed, with the inventiveness of a scientist, the odd mutations (evolutionary mutations?) to his teeth and fingernails. He must have been born a carnivore. He was, in essence, a new species of homo sapiens sapiens- well, now... homo sapiens carovius? She'd think of it later. Fascinating find.

She had tried several times to offer him water, but he apparently didn't even notice. She tried to object as he ate the electrolyte powder from the packets... worried that he would choke. He would need hydration with the amount of sodium he was consuming.

She gave up trying to quench his thirst, and began searching for a jug of general disinfectant and a rag. The specimen was filthy, and she needed to properly cleanse him in order to properly note and document the extent of his mutations. She found both items, donned some rubber gloves, and returned just as the man-thing was finishing off the packet of berry cobbler.

He looked up at her with sorrowful greenish eyes, dark in the infected moonlight, and thanked her.

Kura was somewhat taken aback. She did what any biologist would have done when encountering a new specie, and hoped to perform a successful biopsy in future. She was merely keeping him alive. She was touched, though. She felt a minor twinge at the back of her eye, as if she might tear up.

"No need to thank. I have more, should you require it. I suggest you wait an hour, though... to prevent vomiting. You must digest. Starvation needs time to fix. If you were to eat too much, it would all come back up. Do you understand my speech?"

She didn't wait long for his reply. She merely thrust a full canteen into his talons and bid him drink. Then she set about splashing his back with disinfectant and scrubbing away.

~~

Hahahahahahaha, she's touching you in places!

If Strig could have ripped out that damned inner voice he would have done so at the age of six. (In fact he had tried but thankfully his father had intervened before the young meat-eater had done himself an irrevocable mischief.)

The fact of the matter was, the woman was not touching him at all but was splashing his myriad scars with some foul smelling medicinal liquid and was scrubbing at his cadaverous torso with a rather less-than-smooth rag. He had little to no idea why she was doing this, but felt little inclination to complain, no matter how often it stung.

Her heartbeat had slowed, she wasn't afraid, or was barely afraid at least. That was rare. That was... excellent.

For the moment she seemed fixated on her work... on him. Though Strig wanted very much to turn and look at her again, to introduce himself and learn her name, and to find some way to repay all that she had done for him, he forced himself to keep still, as it appeared to be what she wanted.

The water she had given him was gone in seconds. He felt infinitely better for it.

From what he could discern, this green haired non-food person was definitely a scientist. Her goggles and other devices connoted inventor but her ministrations upon his... self, connoted a doctor. Either way she was a woman of the sciences.

There was an old and crumbling library in his village. There were books there, things his father had bid him read. Most of the non-fiction texts had meant nothing to him, and to read them was a chore. If she wanted them though, they would be hers. Hell, he would give her the entire building if she wished it, and would even clear out all the rat colonies beforehand.

He would make the offer once she was finished, in the meantime he stood still and let her work.

~~

She moved around to his front, scrubbing from shoulders to gaunt chest. His ribs felt like a washboard under the cloth she used.

Kura was never one for conversation, but certain questions needed to be asked- as she was dealing with a sentient specimen. And perhaps conversation would ease the awkward emotion springing up in her stomach. His claws alone gave her pause... She worried also he might turn on her. That may have been the paranoid survivalist in her... but science is a dire mistress. Curiosity pressed the cat onward.

"Where did you come from? Were you wandering the desert?" she asked as she cleaned off his pitifully thin stomach. She noted his reply, scrubbing off an arm.

"Do you know how many years you have been alive?" again, noting his response, she scrubbed at his neck and matted, greasy hair. Disgust was not among her usual demeanors. She gagged slightly at the smell.