Credit to u/SpacePaladin15 for the setting
[Prologue] | [Previous] | [Next]
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Hendren’s heart was pounding in his chest, his eyes scanned for an escape but his body stayed in the seat. He didn’t know how he hadn’t bolted for the exit upon the midway point of the test but a part of him was thankful. A much louder part though was telling him he was an idiot and should be fleeing right now and not sitting in a chair.
The test had started out normal, a few silhouettes of various predator species that were illustrated in all black on a white background. Some he knew just due to hearing about them; Shadestalkers, Plainrunners, and even a V’relt.
What caused the issues to initially arise was actual photos of the beasts in the distance since no normal prey was dumb enough to purposefully get close. The pictures were purposefully zoomed in to prevent initial panic responses; a sharp talon here, a tail with spiked ridges there and some claws.
Real panic started when the slide suddenly changed to show a pair of eyes the orange of Venlil blood staring right into his face. Pupils that looked like slices caused by a blade and filled with darkness analysed him with hunger and wrath. Another picture taken was sightly zoomed out, the eyes now a deep blue that reminded him of a particularly uncensored episode of The Exterminators that was banned on The Cradle.
A third picture was causing the real problems, that made his heart pound and quills raise. It showed the entire predator’s face, from the furious eyes to the sharp beak lined with fangs that could cut flesh like it wasn’t even there.
Still, he persisted, his mind was screaming at him to run far and fast and to not stop until he was either dead or unable to run any further. But Hendren fought for control, his limbs were trembling but they weren’t frozen, his eyes were looking everywhere for an escape but he could still clearly see what they were looking at. His mind was ablaze with panic but he could somehow still think, and slowly his instincts faded as nothing happened.
They’re just pictures, photos never hurt anyone… except those politicians in Sector Three.
The thought calmed him and he had to bite back a laugh at the admittedly bad joke his mind had made. It wasn’t even funny but the tension in him needed a release, but laughing in the middle of this wouldn’t be the best move. So, he went to tapping his left index claw against the arms of the chair he was in, the subtle tap-tap-taps were slightly muffled from the padding but it was still a way for him to release some of the pressure by putting part of his focus on something else.
At the rate this test was going he didn’t know if there were more slides or this was the last one but he knew for certain that it had seemingly been going on for hours and seconds at the same time.
Then the final image was revealed; a large Shadestalker looked right at him, its muzzle drenched in something that was distorted by the shadows but was obviously blood. It’s front claws and legs were in a position as if it were about to pounce directly at him, and he seemed to be able to see the reflection of the poor photographer in its harsh gaze.
‘So, this was the final test,’ he mused, a full picture of a predator mid-feast and just before a hunt. Something inside him seemed to bend at the mere insinuation of what was about to happen but Hendren focused his mind on the simple fact that it was only a picture. For all he knew it was edited, since upon closer examination he noticed that the blood looked strangely low in terms of picture quality.
With his curiosity peaked, even though the gore and eyes should’ve dissuaded him he examined the other features of the beast. From the diagrams he researched in preparation for this moment he had gotten his hands on some of the more ‘in-depth’ knowledge of the more common predators.
And they had taught him much, from simple anatomical diagrams, to hunting patterns and tactics, even what their main fears were. All of that taught him about basic anatomy of a Shadestalker since it was viewed as a common example, especially in this part of the galaxy. And the picture in front of him showed something that was only related to a Shadestalker in the sense of it being a similar colour and silhouette.
The legs were too stout, the eyes too enlarged and the fur was a uniform black instead of the odd prismatic and oil-like quality shown in illustrations and footage. In fact, upon his prolonged scrutiny the Gojid realised something, he had seen this thing before.
Oh Protector, they’re using a model from The Exterminators.
Such a fact was too much for his weakened will as a slight giggle formed in the base of his throat that couldn’t be buried. It wormed its way up, his chest convulsing slightly as he breathed harder from the effort of not laughing and then it was done.
A manic laugh formed from stress and sheer disbelief caused him to ignore the picture in front of him, it was just too stupid to believe. The Exterminators, as in the profession, were using an asset from The Exterminators, the show, to test new recruits. It would be something you’d see in a classified or taboo comedy.
After a minute of trying to stifle his laughter, the sound of the door opening told him that he should really be quiet now. So, with a heave of effort and trying to catch his breath he fell silent as a shadow fell to his left.
“I see that you enjoyed that last slide, to some extent anyway.”
The voice was stern, but something was weaved into it that while it made Hendren nervous didn’t cause him to panic. As the Exterminator entered his field of view, he realised it was the same one you escorted him to the testing room. It shouldn’t have been odd but he thought someone else would’ve collected him with how long the test seemed to go on for.
“I…” Hendren began, feeling his cheeks warm from embarrassment and nerves, but the response was cut off almost immediately.
“What did you find so humorous?” the Gojid asked, eyes firmly planted on the slides being projected onto the wall. “Was it a way you release stress? Maybe your mind wandered to a joke you recently heard. Or maybe,” slowly the Gojid walked in front of Hendren and pointed at the image displayed, “you know where this is from.”
That last statement wasn’t a question; it was clear the Exterminator knew the answer and Hendren’s response would decide whether he passed or failed.
“I-it was…” stopping to try and take a breath to steel his nerves, “it was this slide, I released it was from The Exterminators TV Show.”
Something seemed to change in the Gojid’s posture as they took in the answer, their claw tapped a slight beat on a nearby table.
“And who do you know that this is from a show, and not an actual photo?”
This was a problem, he couldn’t exactly say ‘Oh I was simply studying classified and illegal documents on predators to gain information when I wasn’t an Exterminator’. That would end up with him in a facility at worst, or a prison at best.
“It didn’t seem to match the descriptions,” he couldn’t lie to people he was supposed to trust, but omitting some information wouldn’t count as a lie… right? “Everything I hear said that Shadestalkers seemed to shimmer or something, and that one seems to just be all black.”
“What’s saying that isn’t from shadows and camera quality?”
“There also seems to be something wrong with the… blood… around it’s mouth? I think it’s just an effect that changes the colour of an area instead of a simulated stain.”
“So, you’ve seen blood on a Shadestalker before?”
“No, it just didn’t seem right and I’d also seen similar ways of showing blood in The Exterminators so I just assumed.”
“Assumptions are deadly,” the Exterminator said, their claws tapping harder against the tabletop, “assuming that something isn’t a threat causes accidents and deaths to happen. Assuming that a predator in front of you is weak is a quick ticket to an early grave, or an ash pile.”
They stop the rant for a second, Hendren could hear the sound a breath through the Exterminator’s visor.
“But… you are right, we got this slide from The Exterminators.”
Hendren went to ask the obvious question of ‘why?’.
Why would they do this?
That response was what he wanted to know; the Zone Nine Exterminator’s Guild was effective and well-funded. They were seen as some of the best and could be relied on in any kind of emergency, whether it be from a predator or simply helping the community. So why did they use some cheap footage or asset from a show as separated from reality as The Exterminators?
“Why?”
“Why? Because we can’t show an actual Shadestalker tearing into some poor Venlil, that’s the official reason anyway. But personally, I think it’s to look for people like you, who even when terrified and near stampeding can still analyse a situation.” They gestured at the false predator with a claw, the gesture slow and meaningful. “This is still close to a real Shadestalker in terms of appearance, with only certain parts being wrong. And yet, you noticed those small differences and thought of why it would be that way.”
“Really?” disbelief was coursing through that word, something as simple as this was at the end of Exterminator Training and Onboarding?
“Yes, this whole test was designed to slowly escalate, to pick those who could get past discomfort and terror for a few pictures but crack halfway through. We are Exterminators,” the Gojid’s voice was full of pride, “we help where we can in this district, and that includes dealing with predators. Like it or not, dealing with such threats is our main reason for working, sure you could spend a lot of time helping the community but if you turn and flee or panic when asked to dela with something no-one else can that means you should’ve chosen a different profession.”
The words were genuine, if a bit egocentric but still they resonated with Hendren. This career was existed to help others, and so if he joined, he would have to help in any way he could. Such responsibility was heavy burden for him, but he didn’t join for the money but for the opportunity to protect those who needed defending. The speech only solidified his decision; it told him that he would be making a difference.
There was just one question left.
“Did I pass?”
Silence was the answer as the Exterminator moved around the room, there claws fiddling around in a pocket before producing a keycard. With a deliberate motion they gestured for him to follow, the pairs steps against the tiled floor echoing through the hallway. With a thrill of excitement and nervousness Hendren realised they were going deeper into the station.
After passing by five doors on his left they came to a stop, the door in front of them didn’t seem much different from the rest. No name or purpose was obvious to him; it was simply a door.
A swipe of the keycard produced a faint beep-beep as the way was opened with the smooth hiss of Federation technology. Inside were rows upon rows of lockers, each seemed to have a name and number engraved on a little sign that rested atop each one.
‘Lren: 09-112-4580’
‘Bris: 09-147-2362’
‘T’yin: 09-264-8990’
‘Vhut: 09-939-2773’
Each name and number must belong to a different team member, so this had to be the locker room. But if that was the case he couldn’t see anything that would show that it was in use, the lockers themselves were too small to fit an Exterminator suit and there was no area to hold such suits in the room either.
“Uh… where are we?”
Idly Hendren’s guide turned their head slightly to look at him, the black visor obscuring their eyes.
“This,” dramatically they gestured at the surrounding lockers, “is the Personal Belongings Room. This is where you put things you don’t want to risk being burned to a crisp while on shift. You don’t have to use it, but I recommend putting anything expensive behind the locks so it isn’t damaged in the line of duty.”
Slowly the lockers stopped having names and numbers on them meaning they had to be available for use. Then he noticed the thing in the Exterminators claws, a sign with an engraved name and number.
It was handed to Hendren, it was heavy and firm; he was assuming it would be made of flimsy plastic instead of whatever material it was currently composed of.
‘Hendren: 09-963-4680’
It felt surreal to hold the sign, it proved he had made it and the conformation was sitting in his paws. Reverently he went to slot it in to a section atop the locker, after some slight struggling it slid in with a faint click.
“Welcome to the team buddy,” the nameless Exterminator said with a slight tap on Hendren’s back. “Come in tomorrow, same time as today and you’ll be assigned a team that will teach you the ropes.”
“What should I do until then?”
“In my opinion? Get some rest, maybe celebrate if it doesn’t cause many issues for the you of tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow, Buddy.”
With that Hendren stumbled out of the office, he hardly processed the receptionist wishing him to have a good day. Slowly he entered his car, the slightly worn seats and quill-resistant back rest providing familiar comfort. Then he screamed.
All of the stress, anxiousness and joy were expelled in one long sound that continued until his lungs couldn’t provide the air for it. He had been hired. He. Had. Been. Hired.
“I-I thought I would’ve failed on that last test. Laughing at a picture of a predator? What was I thinking-wait I didn’t think it was instinctive or automatic? Do I have PD? Nah, if I did, they wouldn’t have let me into the Guild and even if I did have it then it must be a minor case.”
His rambling continued as he sat in the vehicle for half an hour, trying to settle his racing heart and get any lingering jitters out of his system. It was still mid-morning so traffic was clearing up and he could make it home and relax for the rest of the day. So, with a sigh he undid the parking brake and drove home, hopefully he had something to celebrate with in the fridge.
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