Beker leaned back against the wall of the laboratory, crossing his arms and sighing.
"Such a boring day…" he said, his voice heavy with discouragement. "But that doesn't mean you're going to start calling every chimera, right?"
Trofalls looked at the courtyard through the security window, his eyes alert.
"I'll take a look outside," he said seriously, already starting to walk. "You never know when a chimera might decide to do something unexpected."
Duda frowned, curious:
"And… how did the mission go, Trofalls?"
He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath.
"It wasn't bad, actually," Trofalls replied firmly. "But don't expect much fun for long. We have something serious going on… chimeras."
Beker let out a low, ironic laugh, almost as if commenting on inevitability:
"Seriously. These creatures never make things easy, no matter how prepared we are."
Duda crossed her arms, observing them:
"So that's why we're here, dealing with this while the world outside continues… chaotic."
Trofalls nodded, eyes fixed on the courtyard:
"Exactly. At every moment, we have to be ready. A chimera is never just an isolated threat—every move it makes can change everything around it."
Silence fell for a few heavy, tense seconds, broken only by the distant sounds of security systems and footsteps in the lab.
"But," Beker finally said, "we can't let fatigue defeat us. The situation demands full attention, or the price will be high."
Duda nodded in understanding: this mission wasn't just about capturing or neutralizing a chimera—it was about surviving and understanding the complexity of beings that defy all human logic and predictability.
Trofalls, looking once more at the courtyard, concluded:
"It's serious, yes. Chimeras aren't just enemies… they're challenges that test every one of us."
Trofalls entered the meeting room, the space silent, lit only by white artificial lights reflecting off polished metal tables. In the center, a holographic dossier floated above a translucent stand, projecting constantly moving graphs, images, and data.
He approached, curious, and activated the hologram with a touch. Immediately, a flood of information unfolded: statistics on chimeras, their forms, abilities, origins, incident records, dates, evolutionary patterns, and hybrid species. Each piece of data was interconnected, impossible to ignore or skip.
"Incredible…" Trofalls murmured, adjusting his glasses. "They spared no detail. Every recorded chimera, every mutation… it's all here."
As Trofalls absorbed the data, Beker entered the room, looking at the hologram with absolute disdain.
"I hate this dossier," Beker grumbled, crossing his arms. "Too much information, useless, bureaucratic overload. And they still want us to believe memorizing all of this will save someone?"
Trofalls, unfazed, replied:
"It's not about liking it, Beker. It's about survival. Every type of chimera here has unique abilities, every evolutionary pattern, every attack history. Ignoring this is like walking blind in a forest full of predators."
The hologram began detailing the types of chimeras:
Amenba: hybrid of multiple races, capable of speech, predicting movements, and manipulating humans with cunning.
Predatory chimeras: highly aggressive, fast, adaptive organisms, difficult to track.
Stealth chimeras: small, nearly invisible, used for espionage and sabotage.
Defensive chimeras: with regenerative abilities and bio-structure manipulation, designed to protect critical areas.
Mutant chimeras: evolve spontaneously, continuously mixing species, making each encounter unpredictable.
Each category was represented with 3D images and statistics showing strength, speed, intelligence, and attack patterns. Trofalls scanned each piece of data, absorbing everything without skipping.
"This…" Beker said, exhaling. "It's too much. I don't know how anyone processes all this without losing it."
"That's why we need the hologram," Trofalls replied calmly. "Information isn't just power. It's anticipating and preparing for the unexpected."
As he spoke, the graphics automatically reorganized, showing relationships between chimera types, attack regions, and past incident records. Each detail seemed alive, as if the dossier was observing Trofalls as much as he was observing it.
"I don't like this," Beker muttered again, "but if you insist… just don't ask me to memorize everything."
Trofalls smiled slightly, eyes fixed on the hologram.
"It's not about memorizing, Beker. It's about understanding what's alive, what's unstable, and what can kill. And from there… deciding who survives."
The hologram glowed intensely, projecting new data. In the heavy air of the room, tension grew: the world of chimeras forgave no mistakes, and the dossier was the only chance to maintain an advantage.
Beker huffed, crossing his arms and looking at Trofalls with a reproachful expression.
"Trash…" he said, his voice dripping disdain. "You're not an exterminator. These chimeras matter to you… only the smart ones. Only the ones committing crimes, right? Those are the ones that matter."
Trofalls raised his gaze, calm, without losing composure.
"Beker, remember when you said I was extraordinarily… strange?" he began, pausing. "Well, I've been thinking about that. And I wanted to see if you could help with some research."
Beker arched an eyebrow, suspicious:
"Research? What kind of research?"
Trofalls took a deep breath, staring at the holographic screen still displaying chimera data.
"There's a guy named Araque. He tricked my power," Trofalls said seriously. "When I'm near him, I feel something wrong… physical, mental discomfort. It's like he manipulates something in me, makes me feel bad."
Beker narrowed his eyes, interested despite trying to look indifferent.
"So… you want me to find out if he's a chimera?"
"Exactly," Trofalls replied. "When they're human, I can see a color. But Araque… he's different. Kind of gray, transparent, like a mixture, something that doesn't fit the pattern."
Beker laughed quietly, half-ironic.
"Gray and transparent?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Ah, so now you want me to investigate the invisible. Fine, but only because I like seeing you confused."
Trofalls ignored the irony and continued firmly:
"Beker, this isn't a joke. If Araque is a chimera, we need to know now. Before he does something worse. And honestly… I can't figure it out alone."
Beker sighed, crossing his arms again, but now with a mixture of resignation and genuine interest.
"Alright…" he said. "Let's see this Araque. But remember: I only make sense for chimeras that are worth it. If he's just another mixed human… don't come complaining later."
Trofalls smiled slightly, almost satisfied.
"I know, Beker. But if he's wrong, if he's a chimera… you'll want to know."
While Trofalls and Beker discussed Araque, the introverted investigator of the division noticed something moving in the corner of the room: an unusual fly, not ordinary. It looked like plant strata, almost translucent, with small reflections resembling leaves and petals.
The fly rose, floating with almost mechanical precision, as if it knew exactly where it was going. It followed a small opening in the room, passing through and disappearing outside, leaving an almost imperceptible trail of green light.
Outside, someone from the field team was waiting, a watchful figure who quickly caught the fly carefully. With precise gestures, he placed the insect in a small device called a malga, which immediately began processing and displaying all information about the fly, from flight patterns to biological traces.
He muttered, almost to himself:
"Ah… it's not that simple."
Then, leaning slightly, he began speaking to an artificial butterfly perched on a nearby stand, his voice low and controlled:
"Tell the boss the situation is still under our control. It's nothing major."
The insects seemed like biological surveillance agents, transmitting data and signals that kept the team one step ahead of the chimeras.
Even in silence, the entire room seemed to breathe with contained tension: every small movement, every insect, every device played a critical role in the information network that allowed the team to survive and react before any threat became real.
Within moments, as the butterfly flew slowly across the room, the final meteor of information began to manifest, projecting bright holograms and floating data.
He began speaking firmly, looking at two chimeras in front of him:
"You two… pay attention," he said, pointing to the first, which looked like a rabbit-cow hybrid, and the second, a strange fusion of goat and centipede. "At the end of October this year, we will begin our ministerial invasion. I expect all of you to be prepared."
The centipede-goat furrowed its articulated chin, making a curious sound, almost like speaking:
"Why don't we free the Memba?"
The man took a deep breath, looking firmly at the chimera:
"Simple. Memba is not trustworthy. If we freed him, he could betray us at the most critical moment. The best option is to eliminate him. After all, getting rid of a traitor is the safest way."
The rabbit-cow twitched its ears, hesitant, and asked:
"So, who will carry this out?"
He answered firmly:
"Whoever is capable. But know this: discipline is essential. Do not do anything that reveals our position or vocalizes our plans. I will not leave here and ruin everything we've built."
The rabbit-cow took a deep breath, remembering last time:
"I'm willing. Last time, Memba betrayed me and I was captured. This time, I'll train and make sure nothing fails."
The man looked at everyone, the gravity of the situation clear in every word:
"Also… we have a problem. Some people from our team are disappearing." He paused, scanning the group. "Has anyone seen Peba?"
In the town of Poranada, a strange silence hung over the streets. What remained of Peba, the half-dog armadillo, was just a trail of destruction. He had been killed, torn apart, and completely destroyed, leaving no signs of resistance.
In the distance, an imposing man observed the scene. He wore a dark coat, his blue hair contrasting with his dark muscular skin. On his left arm, a tattoo of a centipede coiled over his shoulder, as if alive.
The man, with a cold, indifferent gaze, began devouring Peba's remains.
"Chimeras usually don't taste good…" he murmured, his deep voice filled with contempt, "but this one has the texture I expected. Not bad… tastes a bit like chicken."
The scene was brutal: Poranada, which should have been on alert, seemed frozen before the carnage. No sound except bites and heavy silence.
The man wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his coat and looked around, assessing the territory, as if every gesture was a silent warning to any survivor:
"Whoever's next… will be next."
The presence of the destroyed chimera made it clear: there was no mercy, only a swift slaughter.
In the middle of the conflict, Memba watched silently as Peba was devoured. His gaze was serious, almost stunned, while his claws gleamed with metallic and incandescent reflections.
"Unfortunately…" he began, his deep voice reverberating among the ruins, "my friend is now dead and being devoured. There's no reason to stay here. He's already completed his mission."
Around him, the scene was chaotic: people burned, crushed, drenched in fire and debris. Memba spoke with cruel naturalness:
"This is the cycle of life. Some eat, some are eaten, some hunt, some are hunted… But in the end, it doesn't matter. If someone can kill you and is stronger, they have the right to take your body and do what they want."
He raised his gaze, now looking directly at you, and continued:
"I have no vengeance against you humans… at least, not yet. But I promise I will."
"I, Memba, will help you see that my friend will have his revenge, even if it's difficult. One day, I will take revenge. But until then, I will do my work. And while you are dying… I will continue."
With a slow gesture, he stepped back a few paces, moving away, but the promise was clear in every syllable:
"I don't have much time to linger, but I hope this all means something. I will step back now… but vengeance will come."
Silence took over the land, and only the burned debris remained as a reminder that peace was temporary and the future was about to change.
Memba remained standing, imposing, observing the scene around him. Suddenly, a small pink chimera appeared out of nowhere and climbed onto his shoulder, swinging lightly. With a firm voice, it announced:
"The mission is complete."
Meanwhile, the giant Moth fell from the sky, crushing a human who tried to shoot Memba from behind. The impact echoed across the terrain, and Memba spoke with an almost icy calm:
"In the end, you are still alive."
He then asked if the Cube was safe with him. The moth showed the brother that it was.
"It's very dark," he commented, "but it will work. It will serve as needed. I'm not sure… but I made sure to take two."
The small pink chimera observed and commented:
"It was only to take one…"
The giant Moth, firm, replied:
"Better two than none."
The first pink chimera nodded:
"No problem."
Memba, in an authoritative tone, added:
"Problems are irrelevant now. What matters is making the plan succeed and completing the mission. The rest, whatever bad comes… doesn't concern us. It's better to have two extra than just one."
The small pink chimera curled its tail around Memba, a gesture blending affection and support.
"These days have been exhausting," said the pink one. "This mission was long and tiring."
Memba took a deep breath, assessing the situation:
"They are only humans. They can be difficult, perhaps due to the past… but Peba had no luck. He ended up on the wrong side and is dead. What matters now is that we achieved our objective."
He concluded firmly:
"We will not return for a few days. At least until we recover some remnants of his body."
Memba looked to the horizon while the small pink chimera still nestled on his shoulder.
The giant Moth remained by his side, motionless, a silent sentinel. The terrain before him was full of debris, bodies, and traces of the completed mission, but something else hung in the air. A premonition, a sign that this was only the beginning.
The pink chimera finally spoke, its voice clear and sharp:
"It's not just a mission that matters. It's a purpose. What we want now is control. The freedom we were given… is a start, but we want more. We want to know who created us, why we were made, and how far we can go without anyone stopping us."
Memba remained calm, observing every detail:
"Everything we do has consequences. Freedom is just the first step. The rest will be conquered with strategy and strength."
The giant Moth snorted, reminding everyone that even among them, there were unspoken rules:
"The human world is unstable. We cannot just react; we must act before they decide to hunt us."
The wind brought a distant whisper, almost as if the land itself wanted to warn them. Memba closed his eyes for a moment, and glimpses of the near future appeared in his mind: cities in flames, experiments failing, humans trying to interact with chimeras without understanding the risks, and a word—Aris—something with the potential to change the balance of power, but still in its beginning.
He opened his eyes slowly, looking at the small pink chimera:
"Prepare yourselves. What started as a mission to survive will now become a battle of strategies and choices. And ahead… there will be someone who challenges us in a way we did not foresee."
The pink chimera tilted its head, almost curious:
"Who is that?"
"A human," Memba replied seriously, "but different. He may be a key piece, someone who will shape the next confrontation. And what happens now will determine if he is an ally, a threat… or just another obstacle."
The giant Moth let out a low roar, as if saying it was ready for anything.
And then, silently, the three withdrew from the scene of the massacre, disappearing into shadows and debris, taking with them the freedom they had earned, but also the weight of the inevitability of the next step.
At the last moment, the small pink chimera looked at the sky and whispered, almost to itself:
"The next chapter begins…"
Memba says: "Shut your mouth now."
Silence fell over the land, and only the burned debris remained to remind that peace was temporary and the future was about to change.