Ohio

The humid Ohio evening pressed in. It was thick and suffocating even on the porch. The air hung with the smell faintly of cut grass and something else, something strange that always seemed to linger these days. Robert, a can of cold beer in his hand, stared out at the twilight descending over his perfectly manicured suburban lawn. The distant hum of traffic was muted, replaced by an unsettling stillness.

"I don't know why, but something feels off," Robert muttered, taking a slow sip from his cup. He swatted at a mosquito that wasn't there. "I just can't place my hand on it." He turned his head slightly, addressing the presence beside him. "What do you think, Bill?"

Beside him, Bill shifted. The sound was like dry branches snapping, a grotesque cacophony of cretin-like crackling and chitinous scraping. Six segmented appendages, each ending in razor-sharp claws, extended from what should have been his side, fumbling awkwardly with the lid of the cooler. The pale, multi-faceted eyes blinked slowly, reflecting the bruised purple of the Ohio sky. With a wet slurp, one of the appendages managed to hook a beer can, pulling it out with a faint hiss of condensation.

A guttural, rasping sound, like rocks grinding together, emanated from Bill's elongated jaw. "$%#@*&!" he rasped, the syllables alien and utterly devoid of human meaning, yet somehow conveying a strange, unsettling agreement.

Robert nodded, seemingly unfazed. "Yeah, you're also feeling it too, huh?" He took another long swig of his beer, the silence broken only by his gulp and the gentle clink of Bill's can as it was settled on the concrete beside him, held by a spidery limb.

Suddenly, an invisible fluctuation rippled across the sky above them. The bruised purple hues twisted, just for a moment, into a deeper shade of black and green, like oil on water. A distant, almost sub-audible shriek seemed to echo, then vanished.

The grotesque limbs on Bill's body retracted with a sickening squelch. His multi-faceted eyes swirled, then snapped back into the familiar, slightly bloodshot blue of a middle-aged man. His skin, for a moment translucent and veined, returned to its normal, slightly weathered tan. He scratched his arm vigorously.

"Man, I've been really itchy of late," Bill grumbled, his voice perfectly normal. "Must be this darn heat wave. Think the mosquitos are evolving or something." He finished his beer. "We should probably go inside, Rob. Watch the game before it gets too dark out here."

Robert merely nodded, draining his own can. "Yeah, sounds good, Bill." He crushed the can in his hand. Together, they rose.

 ____________________________________

"By all definitions, save the most obvious one, they are human. They act human, they behave human, and to most, they will be seen as human, whether viewed digitally or physically. It's simply that their capacity to inflict harm has been multiplied by a few digits, but that's nothing the rising rookie, Dark Pegasus of Destruction, can't handle, could you?" A suited agent delivered the pronouncement in amusement.

The other suited agent, a younger man, winced. "Please don't call me that, sir. Just call me Ethan. I can't believe that nickname actually stuck."

The first agent chuckled. "Well, Ethan, you will be shadowing me until you've gained enough practical experience to assist directly in the Hell Gate containment effort. Our job, for now, is relatively simple: act as a police officer. If any abnormal human lashes out, you try to calm them down. If that fails, you subdue them. Doubly so for one that's in the midst of committing a crime."

He tapped the earpiece Ethan wore. "That earpiece will translate their speeches to something understandable, so you just need to be polite to them, and calm them down, if needed, release some calming gas until our reality anchor's next pulse turns them back to normal."

Ethan nodded. "Got it."

"And if something truly unexpected happens, or if it escalates beyond your training, I will step in to handle it. Don't worry, you're not entirely on your own." He then looked past Ethan, his eyes narrowing slightly, and pointed across the street.

Outside a Waffle House, a chaotic scene was unfolding. A seemingly normal person – a woman in a Waffle House uniform was embroiled in a heated argument with what appeared to be a grotesque, melting mushroom monster.

"Ah, just in time," the suited agent observed. "It looks like a good practice run, Dark Horse of Destruction. Go forth."

Ethan approached the bizarre altercation reluctantly. "Excuse me!" he called out, trying to sound authoritative. "What's going on here? Please, stop fighting!"

The female Waffle House employee, her face contorted in a furious grimace, didn't even turn. She landed another solid punch on the amorphous, quivering mass. "Stay out of this, kid! I need to knock some teeth out of this little bitch before he takes a dirt nap on the sidewalk!"

The melting, mushroom-like monster lay on the ground, shielding itself with its gnarled, fungus-encrusted arms. Its voice, a deep, masculine gurgle, was filled with panic. "Ah! You gotta help me! I give up, I give up! Just stop hitting me, you psycho!"

Ethan stood there, utterly unsure of who to use the calming gas canister on. The "normal" human seemed far more aggressive than the "abnormal" one. In a split-second decision, he used his ability, manifesting a sudden gust of wind. It pushed into the Waffle House employee and stagger her backwards, disrupting her next combo.

That momentary reprieve was all the mushroom monster needed. It scrambled to its feet, its form still oozing and unstable. "I'll remember this, you crazy bitch!" it shrieked as it turned and fled.

The Waffle House employee recovered quickly. Her eyes, still blazing with fury, snapped to a nearby overflowing trash can. She wrenched off its metal lid and threw it like a frisbee after the fleeing target. It spun through the air, catching the last rays of the sunset, and struck the mushroom monster squarely in the back of its head. The lid dented inwards with a resounding CLANG, and the monster staggered, letting out a pained howl, but continued to run.

"Yeah, you better remember!" she yelled after it, her chest heaving.

She then turned her gaze to Ethan, her furious expression melting into a polite, almost saccharine smile. "Well, if you're going to eat, come on in. We're serving our special tonight."

Ethan, too scared to deny her after witnessing the scene, swallowed hard. He nodded weakly and entered the Waffle House, ordering a late-night meal.