There are two things that absolutely tick me off: people who put ketchup on cheese bread and S-Class monsters with a toothache. Today, unfortunately, the problem was the latter.
The ground was shaking so hard it felt like the world was having a seizure. Concrete dust rose high, blotting out the midday sun, and the smell of burnt ozone tore through my nose. In front of me, a Titanium Basilisk the size of a five-story building was coiled around what was left of the Alta Vila Tower, hissing like a giant kettle about to blow.
"Ready the ion cannons!" screamed an army sergeant, sweating like a sinner in church. He was shaking. Amateur. "The target's Stress is maxed out! He's going to decimate the neighborhood!"
I adjusted my backpack strap with my left hand and took a step forward, passing the military police barrier.
"Put that pea shooter down, chief," I said, loud enough to be heard over the sirens. "You shoot that thing, its carapace will reflect the laser and slice that tank in half like butter. And worse: it'll just make the critter more stressed."
The sergeant turned to me, red with rage. He looked at my green VET.O.P.S. uniform, then at my right shoulder, where the sleeve was sewn flush against my body, flapping emptily in the wind.
"Who are you? This is a restricted area! And... where is your protective gear? Where's your arm?!"
I let out a short laugh. Adjusted my cap.
"The arm? Oh, left it at home. Too heavy to carry today," I replied, flashing that crooked smile I know irritates the stiff-necks. "I'm the designated Containment and Enchantment Specialist. And unless you want to explain to your superiors why Belo Horizonte turned into a crater, I suggest you get out of my way. The patient is waiting."
"Patient?! That's a monster!"
"A monster is someone who doesn't say 'good morning' to the doorman. That over there is just an overgrown lizard with a calcium deficiency." I left the sergeant talking to himself and hopped over the concrete barrier.
I approached the danger zone. The "procedure" had begun. The air grew hotter. The Basilisk turned its gigantic head toward me. His eyes glowed a sickly yellow—classic sign of a viral infection or that he ate something he shouldn't have. Probably a 5G radio antenna.
His Stress bar must have been bursting. If he went into a rage now, it was a guaranteed TPK (Total Party Kill).
My right shoulder itched. That phantom tingling that always shows up when death is breathing down my neck. Funny how we feel what we don't have anymore, right? Just like missing an ex.
"Hey! Psiu!" I called out, raising my only hand, palm open. "Hey, big guy! Look over here!"
The monster roared. A metallic, tearing sound that shattered the windows of neighboring buildings. He opened his mouth, revealing rows of serrated teeth and a blue glow in his throat. He was about to use his "Special Symptom." Probably a sonic scream.
I didn't run. VET.O.P.S. rule number one is: "First, do no harm." My rule number one is: "Don't look like you're about to shit yourself."
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with that polluted air, and activated my skill. I don't need tech scanners or tranquilizer rifles. I have the Bond.
"SETTLE DOWN!" My voice came out with supernatural authority, amplified by the Command Voice technique. It wasn't a scream of fear. It was the order of a mother watching her kid draw on the living room wall.
The Basilisk froze. The blue glow in his throat flickered. He blinked, confused. For a second, he didn't see a tiny, one-armed human. He saw an apex predator.
"That's right," I continued, lowering my tone but keeping the firmness, walking slowly toward him while pulling a vial of synthetic pheromones from my belt with my teeth and uncapping it with my left hand. "You're in pain, aren't you? Ate some junk. I know. But if you scream again, I'm going to get upset. And you don't want to see me upset. I'm from Contagem, son. We're dangerous."
I threw the vial on the ground, shattering the glass. The scent of Soothing Lavender for Mutant Reptiles wafted up. The beast sniffed the air, his metal scales relaxing slightly. His stress bar dropped a notch.
I looked back over my shoulder. The army guys were open-mouthed.
"Well?" I yelled at the sergeant. "You gonna stand there staring or are you gonna call the Surgeon? I'm not gonna hold this beast with small talk all day! And someone get water for my horse, I left him grazing in Savassi Square and he hates waiting!"
I smiled. Just another day at the office. And I didn't even have to dirty my good hand.
It didn't take two minutes for the VET.O.P.S. tactical transport to tear through the sky and land, kicking up even more dust. The side door opened and the "Freak Show"—or as HR likes to call it, my team—jumped out.
First down was Koji, our Xenobiologist. The kid looked like an astronaut from a B-movie, covered in tablets, AR goggles, and a drone buzzing around his head like a bakery fly. Then came Tank, the Container. The guy is literally a titanium wardrobe; his exoskeleton sounds like an old truck when he walks. And finally, Dr. Valéria, the Surgeon. She stepped out with her dart rifle already in hand and that look on her face like she sucked on a lemon and enjoyed it.
"You're late," I complained, kicking a pebble with my worn boot. "The big lizard here was almost asking for the check."
"Easy, Dayanne. Easy," Valéria retorted, adjusting her scope. "Situation?"
"Titanium Basilisk. Stress was hitting the ceiling, but I held it down. He's got mouth pain. Think he tried to chew on something that didn't go down right."
Koji ran near the beast's front paw, which was the size of a Beetle, and pointed his Bio-Sonic Scanner. The monster growled low, vibrating the ground.
"Easy, Fido..." I whispered, maintaining the Bond. I closed my eyes for a second, feeling the beast's heartbeat. It was racing. Fear. Not anger. "Koji, hurry up with that Game Boy."
"It's called a Resonance Spectrometer..." Koji started, but saw my face and gave up. "Found it! There's a sharp metallic object lodged between the third and fourth upper right molars. It's generating an energy abscess. If it bursts, his head turns into an EMP bomb."
"Great," Tank grumbled, cracking his knuckles inside the hydraulic gloves. "Time to open the baby's mouth."
The mechanics were simple, or at least they were supposed to be. The so-called "Procedure" the board loves so much. Tank holds, Koji monitors, Valéria operates, and I make sure no one turns into puree.
Tank moved in. He launched two graphene hooks that latched onto the Basilisk's upper and lower jaws. The beast tried to shake his head.
"Stay still!" I shouted, using Command Voice again. The sound cracked like a whip. The monster froze, but I saw his mental Stress bar: it was blinking. One more slip-up and he'd go berserk. "Tank, don't pull with brute force! Use finesse!"
"I don't have 'finesse', Horseshoe. I have Vigor," Tank grunted, activating the suit's pistons. He tensed the cables, forcing the creature's mouth open.
The smell that came out of there was a mix of leaking battery and sewer. Valéria didn't hesitate. She activated her magnetic boots and ran up the monster's leg, climbing to the shoulder to get a shooting angle with the extractor harpoon.
"I see the object," she said over the radio. "It's... a ham radio tower? Who eats that?"
"Whoever's hungry, uai," I replied, getting close to the monster's eye. It was huge, yellow, and full of acidic tears. "Oh, mama... must hurt, huh?"
That's when Murphy's Law, who must be related to some VET.O.P.S. director, decided to show up.
Koji's drone got too close to the beast's sensitive ear. The high-pitched buzz was the trigger. The Basilisk didn't attack; he panicked.
In a sharp movement, he whipped his neck, throwing Tank away as if the two-ton exoskeleton were made of Styrofoam. The graphene cable snapped. The jaw, now loose, started to close with the force of a hydraulic press—and Valéria was hanging right on the edge, ready to become filling.
"Valéria!" Koji screamed.
No time to run. No time to shoot.
Right in that second, I wasn't a VET.O.P.S. employee. I was the Dayanne who held Goiás by the arm until the bone broke.
I didn't think. I ran under the descending head.
"HUP!"
I jammed my right shoulder—the scarred, hard stump—against the cold scale of his chin and used my left hand to push the snout up, using my legs as a lever.
It was impossible. Physically impossible. But I spent everything I had. I burned my Adrenaline in a "Heroic Moment." The universe bent, physics asked for permission, and time stopped.
For a second, I was the pillar holding up the sky. My knees popped, my single arm shook, but the mouth didn't close. It stayed open just enough—a half-meter gap.
"GET OUT OF THERE, SLOWPOKE!" I bellowed, the veins in my neck almost bursting.
Valéria threw herself through the gap, rolling onto the hot asphalt.
As soon as she was out, my legs gave way. The Basilisk's head slammed into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust that swallowed me whole. Everything went black for an instant, and the taste of blood (or was it stale cheese bread?) filled my mouth.
Silence.
Then, I heard Koji's scanner beeping frantically and Tank's shaky voice.
"Day? Dayanne?!"
I coughed, waving away the dust with my left hand. I was lying under the monster's snout. He was sniffing me, curious, the sharp pain gone because, in the fall, the tower had dislodged from his tooth.
"I'm alive..." I grumbled, trying to get up, feeling my whole body ache like I'd been in a fistfight with a tractor. "But I think I crushed my pack of straw cigarettes."
The Basilisk let out a sound that sounded like a metallic purr and licked my face with a rough tongue full of acidic drool.
"Yeah..." I wiped the slime off my torn uniform. "You're welcome, big guy. Now, could someone please give me a hand here? No pun intended."