"Ever since I opened my eyes, I kept witnessing the number 4 — and by some unfair fate, I am anomaly hunter #4."
"They granted me the title: Death Reaper."
"With the most simplistic name possible, Ray."
He was being transported inside a matte-black armored vehicle — within a muted autumn forest, the human eye could see its dominant yellows, oranges, and reds; so too were the blood and corpses floating through the river's rotting waters.
Welcome to the world of the dying human race.
The sound of the rumbling engine and its wheels crunching the fallen leaves below mingling with an old idol music blasted from the driver's seat.
It was too joyous for his taste — the obnoxious lyrics played within his mind.
You're my sunshine! You're my heart!
You're my teddy bear, and my love!
My one and only miracle! Muah!
"What the hell are they listening to?"
"Aren't they, like, two grown-ass men?"
The year was 2060, the driver and the guard were in their thirties — wearing black military uniforms with AR-15s strapped to their chest harnesses.
They're all part of the Helix Corps, a subdivision of the Helix Corporation.
An organization tasked with dealing with anomalous activities, while simultaneously providing humanitarian aid to those in need.
Their purpose for this trip was two-fold:
1. Distribution of supply boxes carried by the vehicle for the refugees.
2. Purging of anomalous activity within Redpines town — the task of the anomaly hunter.
Ray could feel his muscles growing sore, and it was a challenge to keep his dark red eyes open.
His line of work didn't exactly allow for a decent sleeping schedule.
Yet despite all that, he still accepted this perilous mission.
In his words:
"The pay for this mission is really good, about $40k, and I get to keep all of it since I went alone."
"I'd gladly risk my life for it."
He had an appearance similar to a ghost, his pale skin, raven hair, and unmistakable dark-red eyes, a decent lean body structure, while standing 6 feet tall.
His black suit was professionally tailored with small compartments underneath and reinforced with discreet ballistic fibers, making it bulletproof against small firearms.
Ray looked down at his right hand, specifically his wedding finger; he could feel the tight grip of a black ring, one could even notice that his nails were darkened and lifeless.
Yet, in the middle of his reverie, the idol music didn't stop; a new song started playing right after the last one.
"Is that the kind of music they listened to forty years ago?" He leaned forward and checked the glass panel that allowed those in the front of the vehicle to see the back.
Ray could hear one of the guards trying to sing along, and it was, unfortunately, very off-key.
He couldn't help but smile; there was a certain charm to the scenario.
"Who am I to judge them?" he sighed, looking out the vehicle's window. "Is this what they call… nostalgia?" he murmured.
The wheels continued to crunch the fallen leaves on the road.
However, the ride occasionally jolted now and then as the tires rolled over bloated, parasite-ridden animal carcasses littering the road.
"It's not that bad," The music kept playing, and to his surprise, it was starting to grow on him.
Moments later, he found himself wondering about a reality he could not realistically experience — attending an idol's concert.
"I've seen concert videos. Do these men even know what it's like?"
Ray, without noticing, began bumping his head to the rhythm, and with a subtle movement of his hand, he almost mimicked a small dance.
"I wouldn't mind experiencing it myself."
No one could see him doing this inside the armored vehicle—
—until the vehicle's door swung open abruptly, revealing the guards witnessing an Anomaly Hunter being surprisingly lively.
The passage of time was terrifying when you're having fun, to the point that Ray didn't even realize he was lost in his own imagination.
The song in the background had changed multiple times but was always sung by the same artist, still with the same absurd lyrics:
You're my boyfriend, you're my husband, you're the one for me!
Muah, muah, muah, I love you!
The air was awkward.
"None of them thought to turn the music off?!" Ray thought to himself.
Ahem—
Ray tried to compose himself, his fingers quickly straightening his tie while the guards stared at him, dumbfounded.
"Hunter — we have arrived, and this is as far as we can take you," one of the guards said… though admittedly, they were quite nervous talking to an Anomaly Hunter, who could easily murder them without breaking a sweat.
Anomaly Hunters were both respected and feared, and Ray, on the other hand, was one of the nicest, this was the kind of thought running through the two guards' heads.
"Right…" Ray said.
He couldn't look at them in the eyes — to the point that standing up was unnecessarily embarrassing.
The guards moved aside to make way for him, and Ray's boots landed on the ground against a tapestry of red, yellow, and gold fallen leaves.
The air was cold on his skin; winter was approaching.
The guards began to move and gather the supply boxes from the armored vehicle.
Ray stepped forward and inspected his surroundings, and within his peripheral vision was a harrowing sight.
"What exactly happened here?"
Ahead lay a refugee site: a burning campfire at its center, tin cans scattered, and boxes serving as makeshift tables and chairs.
Tents formed a loose circle, and Ray knew the worst-injured were inside them. Outside, refugees sitting on benches and boxes looked up with hope — the armored truck was here to deliver food, water, clothing, and other essentials.
There were already Helix Corps personnel on-site — five soldiers and three medics tending to the wounded.
Ray walked deeper into the camp.
The refugees kept their distance, afraid of his eyes, which resembled those of the ones who'd hurt them.
Nearby soldiers saluted; the Anomaly Hunter returned the gesture.
They hurried to unload and distribute the supplies. But what caught Ray's attention were the injuries themselves.
Limbs were grotesquely twisted, and some were even missing entirely, in a manner that left his mind perplexed.
"Who am I hunting today — the devil himself?" He idly thought.
Then his eyes caught one familiar detail: the refugees had red patches from their necks down to their forearms.
It was the sign of the Red Plague's malevolent influence.
"That's contagious — through the air they breathe, skin contact, and their bodily fluids."
"But as an anomaly hunter, I'm genetically resistant to it. So are the other personnel who received their vaccines."
Ray watched as the refugees struggled to breathe, fully languid, and some were even stubbornly scratching their wounded skin. The medic had to stop them before they peeled the upper layer.
"They won't live for long. They're only delaying the inevitable, and under normal circumstances, Helix Corps should've already eliminated them…"
"But I'm surprised we didn't receive that kind of order. Did the Helix Corporation suddenly grow a heart?"
Ray smiled, even chuckling. "No. That's impossible."
Though there was one thing a good agent like him did: gather useful information that might help him in his mission.
He looked around, searching for the chief in charge of this Rapid Response Team (RRT).
"Am I that unapproachable?" None of the personnel seemed willing to talk to him, most of them preoccupied with helping or gathering supplies.
"That guy might know something." Ray approached one of the male medics, which had a red cross on his patch, wearing the same black military uniform as the rest.
"Excuse me, where's Chief Anderson?" Ray asked as politely as he could, though admittedly his deadpan expression could use some work.
The medic looked him over, inspecting him in great detail, and upon meeting Ray's dark red eyes, he finally realized who this man was.
"An Anomaly Hunter? I thought you were part of HQ, with the black suit and all," the medic said, he finds the hunter's attire a little too out of place.
Ray took offense, evident in his slightly shocked expression, but he wasn't going to press further. "May I know where the chief is?" he asked again softly.
The medic looked around the refugee site, also searching for the chief. "He went to the woods, but he should be coming here to see you soon."
Ray gave a quick nod. "Thank you." The worn-out medic nodded back.
The hunter moved deeper into the camp, curiosity winning over his thoughts — he wanted, morbidly, to see the situation up close.
He stopped when his eyes fell on a child in one of the outer tents, clutching his infected mother's hand and watching her suffer.
"The Helix Corporation has a remedy for the Red Plague, but they never bother curing outsiders."
"That's just the way the world works, unfair and unforgiving."
Ray gazed into the distant woods.
The absence of animals and even birds was eerie, yet he could sense anomalous activity far away, lingering in the middle of his reverie.
"I sense dead people."
Chapter End.