Mon-Hum Squad: Chapter 2

Mon-Hum Squad: Chapter 2

[WARNING: Easily triggered? Don’t read.]

The sunlight shone through the treetops, perfectly lighting a small clearing and the deer standing within it. Michael was a mere 20 yards away laying on his stomach, homing in on it with his rifle trying to find a clear shot between the trees. The wind blew softly, leaves falling off trees as leaves fell to the ground. As the deer took a few steps more his shot aligned perfectly, but as his finger squeezed on the trigger the deer froze then shot off like a rocket.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Michael whispered, taking his eye away from his scope.
In a moment a foul odor assaulted his senses, a smell that made his blood run cold; Sulfur.
“Hey there boy toy.” A gruff feminine voice said from behind him.
Michael rolled onto his back, reaching for his sidearm only for black paws to pin him down.
“Oh I love it when they fight back.”
Michael kicked up at the hound, only for claws to sink into his ribs.
Michael woke up in a cold sweat grabbing the pistol he stashed between his mattress and bed frame, quickly scanning his surroundings. His dark bedroom decorated sparingly with old furniture was empty as the air hung stiff.
“God damn it..” he muttered as he put his sidearm back.
Michael turned his bedside lamp on and looked at the clock which read ‘4:35am‘ in bright red light. Michael sat up and went back into the bathroom, turning on the light as he entered. Looking into the mirror, Michael turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face. Michael slowly traced the deep scars down his face on the left side. With a deep sigh he returned to his bed. As he began to settle back into bed his cellphone rang on the bedside table. It was his case handler; he answered immediately.
“It’s Roman, what’s up?” He answered, void of emotion as he always was with his CO’s.
“I’m surprised you’re awake Roman. I expected to get voicemail.” She said, trying to match his tone but failing.
Of all his handlers, she was the first to show friendliness towards him.
“Just having rough time sleeping due to time change.” He answered as he wiped the remaining sleepiness from his eyes.
“Ah yes, how are you finding your living arrangements, I tried to keep it homely for you.” She said, a renewed chipper in her voice.
“I appreciate how much care went into it, but why did you call?” Michael asked, wanting to get to the matter at hand quickly.
“It’s about what you found at the warehouse.” She said, voice once again dead of emotion.
Michael’s heart almost skipped a beat as his mind showed him images of what he saw.
“What about it?” He asked, trying to keep his tone.
“My boss wants a strike team dedicated to taking down the group in charge of the operations, and had given me full authority on the matter of the team. I want you on it.”
“Deal, I’m your’s to command.” Michael blurted without a second thought.
“As tempting of a thought as that is, I thought Americans always haggled for hiring prices.” She laughed, her unmistakable hiss leaking out.
“After what I saw, I want these fuckers dead, and I want to kill them.” He replied.
“Cute bravado, for a human you really are charming. Anyways, get your sleep. I’ll have you brought to HQ tomorrow for briefing on the op.”
And like that the line went dead. Taking a deep breath Michael put his phone back on the table and turned the light out, quickly falling back asleep for only a few more previous hours.
Michael sat alone in a conference room for what felt like hours waiting for his briefing, scrolling mindlessly through his social media feed on his phone. His brother had bagged a 10 point deer over the weekend, one of his sisters held a barbecue to welcome a family of monsters to the neighborhood, and a long post from his mom on how a 30 year marriage was going strong; home was home and he missed it. Just as his handler promised two Feds showed up in an unmarked car to bring him in at the crack of dawn. His eyes snapped up when he headed the unmistakable click of the door opening, followed by Rose, Liz, Cait, and his case handler entering the room. Liz and Rose looked excited to see him, Cait still giving him the cold shoulder.
“Roman!” Rose and Liz said almost in unison.
“Merc.” Cait muttered.
Michael smiled, at least he’d be working with people he knew on this, people he knew he could trust.
“Please, take your seats.” The handler ordered.
Liz and Rose took their seats next to Michael while Cait sat across the table. The case handler took her place at the head of the table, all eyes on her.
“The four of you are here because of your proven skill in the field and experience with the group we’re going up against.” She began, “after your raid of the warehouse we found key evidence and information to launch more operations against them, some key information was the notebook Roman grabbed off one of their men. Notably a list of buyers they planned on passing the shipment onto.”
“Shipment? Those were chopped up members of my species!” Cait yelled, venom dripping from her words.
Michael’s blood ran cold, the look in her eyes carried murder in them.
“I’m well aware of what was in it, don’t make me regret keeping you on this team Cait.” Replied the handler, Cait grew silent, brooding her emotions.
“But, after the raid the buyer had went off grid, we’ll have to wait until they re-emerge to go after them. Mentioned in the notes was an officer who visited the warehouse the day before the raid, after asking a few contacts we’ve gotten a positive ID on him; A Russian named Nikolai Ivanov.”
Michael’s eyes grew wide in surprise.
“I know that fucker.” He blurted out, the air chilled at his admission.
“He was a supplier for the local militia groups back during my deployments. Always was a greedy asshole, but he was strictly freelance. Why is he with these guys?” Michael asked.
“Looks like you get to find out, Roman. Liz will be with you for this one.”
Michael sat at the bar, his baseball cap tipped low to cover his scarred face and eyes. “Let me guess, beer?” Liz’s voice buzzed through his earpiece.
“Nope.” Michael replied, watching Nikolai from across the bar. He was drunk as a skunk and flirting with every monster girl to bring him a drink, some people never change.
“Bourbon?” She asked.
“Nice try, but no.” He replied, using his phone to take multiple pictures of Nikolai.
“Seems our Russian friend is enjoying himself quite a lot but never pays, wonder whose picking up his tab?” Michael asked.
“One moment… All his drinks are payed for by an ‘outstanding power’ according to the bar’s network. All signed off by the owner. I’ll notify HQ to have him brought in for questioning.” Liz answered, “Vodka?”
Michael chuckled, “that’s my second favorite, you’re getting close.”
Liz groaned, “Tell me.” She said in defeat.
The bartender came up to Michael, she was a cute fox girl, “What can I get you, handsome?” She asked, leaning towards him to show off her very ample cleavage.
“A shot of fireball whiskey, and can you give the drunk asshole this for me, please?” He asked giving her a folded note.
She glared daggers towards Nikolai, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
She poured him a shot then went to go give Nikolai his note.
“Fireball Whiskey, hot just like you.” Michael’s earpiece crackled as he rolled his eyes.
Nikolai flipped his shit after reading the note and ran towards the back hallway, Michael followed closely. Nikolai saw he was being followed and drew a gun.
“Get away Pig!” He yelled as Michael ducked into a doorway for cover.
The Russian saw this as his chance and sprinted for the back door. Upon entering the back alley Nikolai was beaten and put into a black van by Liz and two Feds.  Michael walked out the door smiling a bright grin.
“You people have such lovely receptions.” He said with a laugh.
“What did the note say to freak him out so much?” Liz asked as Michael approached.
“It was his alias he used when selling to militia members, knew he’d love to read that.” Michael chuckled watching the van drive off.
“Well what was it?” Liz asked, pushing her body against his.
“Fist of Stalin.” Michael laughed, “Wanna grab a drink?”
“About time you asked.” Liz remarked as she led him into the bar.
Nikolai sat alone in a room, a dense bag over his head to block any possible visibility.
“Just who the fuck do you think you are!?” He yelled to the empty room, an anxious hell hound watching through a two-way mirror.
“And you knew this scum bag?” She asked without turning her head.
“Yeah,” Michael said walking to her side, “Was a cunt back then too.”
She turned her head to look up at him, “Dibs on ‘Bad Cop'” she said winking at him.
“Oh this’ll be fun,” he said rubbing her head, “go get him.”
She smiled a grim grin as she entered the room, her eyes emitting more fire than normal. Michael watched amused as he watched her work.
“You smell of death itself..” Nikolai muttered as he squirmed in the chair he was tied to.
“You not far off you know, I could drag you to hell if I wanted.” She chuckled as she walked behind him, digging her claws into his shoulders.
“Oh god help me..” Nikolai murmured.
She laughed evilly, “God can’t save you now.”
Michael got an idea, and kicked in the door. “Helsing! Down!” He yelled, shooting her a wink; she got the message and sat behind the prisoner, breathing boiling heat onto his neck.
“Now then,” Michael pulled up a chair and sat in front of him, “You wanna live? Start answering my questions or I’ll put you on a slow boat to hell.”
“Fuck off Yankee!” Nikolai yelled.
Michael tisked and kicked his chair over. “Helsing, show our guest manors?”
Rose curled up her paw and punched him hard.
“Want to play along now?” Michael asked, trying to sound overly sweet.
Nikolai stayed quiet.
“Oh shame, again.”
Rose reached back and socked him again, a resounding crush coming from his nose.
“Cyka Bylat!” He called out.
“Bring him up.” Michael asked. Rose lifted the chair back into its feet.
“I want you to play along, I really do. I hate seeing you in pain.” Michael lied. Truth be told, Michael had a plain hatred Rose could easily see, though she didn’t know why.
“Fuck. You.” Nikolai spit inside of his potato sack hood.
“Oh I am fucking done with you, you potato drinking, turnip farming, communist bitch cunt!” Michael yelled and kicked Nikolai straight in the chest, Rose holding the chair in place. Michael pulled his gun and aimed his colt right at Nikolai’s balls.
“If you don’t straighten up right now I’ll send you straight to hell and you can burn for those people you let die in Afghanistan!”
Nikolai remained silent, then spoke as quiet as a mouse.
“I never saw her face, only spoke over phone and heard rumors. Some anti-human Succubus with a hatred for all monsters with a deep hatred of all monsters who worked with them.”
Michael ripped off the sack, looked him in the eyes.
“This is for Sarah.” He said, punching Nikolai into unconsciousness. Michael spit at the Russian and left the room, Rose hot on his heels.
“What the fuck was that?” She asked, turning him around.
“That fucker deserved so much worse.” He replied, raising his voice.
“Well, what did he do, huh?!” She said, fire spitting from her eyes.
“A family during my deployment constantly tipped off insurgents in their village, so Nikolai sold the family to them. Family, including a little girl named Sarah were executed on live TV! That bad enough Rose!?” Michael yelled before turning around and walking away.
Rose was left speechless, wanting only to run up to him and hug him. But she only stood scared as he walked away, his hand gripping his knife so tight his knuckles were white.
Michael spent the rest of the day at the gun range, working on his long range marksmanship. He asked to be left alone, so it was just him, a rifle, and all the ammo and targets he could ever want. As the day moved on he kept adding distance until it was a 1000 yard shot. He looked to the target through his scope, the deer haunting his mind.
“Are you okay?” A soft voice asked from behind him.
Michael was taken by surprised and fired his rifle by mistake; missing completely. He rolled over on his back and looked up to see Cait looking down on him.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just got a lot on my mind.” He closed his eyes and sighed.
“Can I join you? I mean I can spot if you want.” She sat beside him.
An awkward silence formed between them.
“I’m sorry.” She eventually blurted out.
“For what?” He asked looking over at her.
“For being a massive bitch?” She asked, locking eyes with him.
“It’s fine, no harm no foul.” He answered.
“No it’s not. Look I don’t like your kind. And I let my hatred of humanity taint my view of you. But you saved my sister, and proved me wrong; about you at least. Thank you, Roman”
The air grew silent again.
“My name, it’s Michael.” He said looking up towards the sky.
“How’d you get the name Roman?” She asked, laying next to him; joining him in watching the skies.
Michael leaned up taking off his shirt. His back was covered all the way up and down in scars from claws. Across his shoulder blades was tattooed the Roman Empire’s banner.
“How did you get those scars?” She asked tracing one of her claws along it.
He sighed deeply, “Something happened a few years back. I.. don’t want to go further into it.”
He put his shirt back on and laid back down.
“I understand.” She said, moving her paw to hold his hand, “But I’m here if you ever need me.”
He smiled, “Thanks Cait.”
She squeezed his hand lightly.
“Hey Cait, can i ask you something?”
“Why open up to me all of a sudden?”
Cait’s face turned red as she answered, “I got a call from Casey today.”
“How is she? She didn’t look so good when we met.”
“She’s gonna make a full recovery, but is gonna need some major counseling after all she saw.”
“I’ve got her in my prayers, for what it counts.”
She smiled, “Thanks, but when she called she asked about you.”
Michael was caught by surprise.
“Mhmm, she said you sounded just like dad did when she was scared.”
Surprised again, Michael remained silent.
“Thank you Michael, i never thought I’d see her again.”
Cait sat up and began tearing up. Without missing a beat Michael sat up and hugged her tightly. 
A solemn figure sat behind a cold iron desk in a dark room lit only by a fireplace. Two men entered, one holding the other by gunpoint. As the figures approached the being stood, “Why did you fail me?” It asked coming around the desk.
It was well over a foot taller than the man.
“N-Nikolai was grabbed while I was in the restroom, I-I was too drunk to notice when it all happened.” The man professed as if in a church confessional.
“I see. It will be okay my son, it will be okay.” It said.
As the man looked up red clawed hands gripped his neck, snapping it in one fluid motion. It threw the body at a nearby wall, it joining a pile of lifeless meat with a sickening crunch.
“Now find me someone who can do a job, on your next.” It said putting a claw against the guards throat.
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3 thoughts on “Mon-Hum Squad: Chapter 2

  1. Meh, kind of so-so, too much action, pathos, character development and villainy packed in such a short chapter; also, this is CoD level of military accuracy, but that’s just a minor concern.

  2. You seem to be familiar with some military. You’ve got a good storyline and premise.
    It’s something that can go for several more stories.
    The cell phone convo at the beginning- who’s the Handler? I think you meant to say- Homey, not Homely.
    His cortisol surge wake up? His heart would be pounding for at least an hour after. Getting to sleep after would take a while, even after a middle of the night workout.

    Just a suggestion- develop the characters more. Roman is pretty much filled out for now.
    But who are everyone else?
    Cait- the Manticore with a hurt sister. Why’s she in a special ops unit?
    The same with Liz, and Rose, and the Handler. Who are they? Why are they there? Fill them out.

    Great minds think alike. One story I’ve been thinking through: involves a serial killer of Mamono ripping through them and selling their body parts for the Oriental medicine trade. He gets to have ‘fun’ and make some money on the side. It makes sense that there would be an organization humans who have no problem making money off of such.
    The Mon-Hum Squad, doing that what the Kunoichi won’t do.

  3. “Some anti-human Succubus with a hatred for all monsters with a deep hatred of all monsters who worked with them.”
    I am confuse, is she anti-human but pro monster, anti-monster but pro-human, or just anti everything? Semantics aside, I’m digging the story. Operators and devastating trauma go together with Monstergirls like peanut butter and jelly, or anime and gangsta rap. You would think they have nothing in common, but together they’re just so damn good.

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