FSE

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Chapter One

Samuel Hunter was an ordinary man with the keyword being "was." He could be described as a quiet young man who kept his head down, and out of sight. Unlike other college students, he stayed away from frat parties with the intent of avoiding the wrong crowd. However, that kind of behavior often kept him arm's length away from the right crowds as well, and he was never able to build strong relationships. Essentially, these were the core components of his final thoughts. When Samuel went riding out, in an old hand me down Porsche, a foolishly drunk driver ran the stop sign that was designed to keep their paths from crossing.

Samuel never saw the oncoming car, but he certainly felt it. The crunching of metal, and shattering of glass, created an ear deafening explosion. In the end, he blamed himself for the mistake of another, which providing his short life with a lack of closure and regret. The snapping of bones was not a reassuring sound. Sam had a sense of vertigo, as his vehicle spun around three times. He never asked for this sort of pain, but many aspects of life don't provide choices. Sam closed his eyes one last time with a "This is how I die?"

The sensation of water rushed around Sam's whole body. He gasped for air but breathed in star dust. Sam finally mustered the courage to open his eyes and expect the damage. He found himself drifting down a winding stream. The details seemed a bit off to Sam who was in the car a moment ago. He looked at his arms to find them fading away slowly. His legs followed the same pattern, and then he assumed the rest of his body was sure to follow. Sam was definitely dead. His senses faded out, and darkness remained.

"Well do you plan on sleeping through lunch, and dinner too?" echoed a mysterious voice.

Sam's head pounded with a terrible migraine. He groaned, "Leave me be, can't you see I'm dead." Being dead was a surreal experience for Sam. First off, the ground felt cold and damp. It was as if he was resting on a mossy stone slab. Additionally, the unidentified figure kept nudging him for attention. It was no gentle nudge either as it managed to shake his whole body. He was pretty sure the figured even managed to pick him up and set him upright once again. Sam decided to humor the afterlife and take in the world around him.

Ok, so the stone slab he rested on actually provided a bit of light. It wasn't the sort of light source he ever expected to see as it was printed in unfamiliar glowing blue letters. Knowing he had a protagonist to fight against the darkness, Sam studied the unknown voice next. The figure towered above him as he appeared to be some sort of colossal giant. His skin was like jagged stone, or perhaps they could be considered scales? No, they were too unorganized to be consider basic reptilian scales. Sam scooted back as a precaution, upon seeing the giant.

Sam pleaded with a pitiful "Please, don't kill me."

The terrifying voice hammered once again, "What? No you're not dead. Cease this foolishness, and get up already." The dark figure was wearing some sort of plate mail over the majority of his body. The humongous sight of scale and metal sent a shiver down Sam's spine. With an aura as black as night, the figures face was obscured with an unnerving black fog. It was a sight filled with shadows and cold. Sam tried to guess what the being could possibly be.

The voice sounded like it was spoken by dozens of individuals. "Hah, you expect me to believe you died, but then you plead for your life. Good luck fooling anyone with that sort of ruse." The shadowy figure sat down in front of the comparatively tiny Sam. He replied with a chuckle, "We should get a little jester costume for you little guy. Crack a good joke for me and maybe I'll let you live." The figure had an un-seeable face so he had to elaborate "I Jest, just imagine I gave you a playful wink."

Sam responded with a doubtful "Ok, I understand that I'm not dead, but at the same time I definitely remember one hell of a T bone collision from another car. So basically, there is no way I should be alive." Sam's recent traumatic memories made him shudder. The cloaked figure was now looking directly at him, with his face now much closer. Sam was eyeing the room, just in case he needed some sort of emergency escape.

The figure questioned Sam, "Another Car? We don't know what that is but you are definitely not a car. At least, we've never heard your species address themselves as that."

Sam groaned with a frustrated "Obviously I'm not a car. What I'm trying to say is that I was in a car, and that car crashed."

The shadowy figured responded with a sympathetic "Oh, so you were eaten by this car? Must have been rough, poor thing."

"Arrrggghhh, No, A car is a mode of transportation you get in to move faster," explained Sam.

The figure gave an amused chuckle, "Oh, so it's basically a carriage. You could have just said so in the first place."

"Fine, you know what, you're exactly right. You know what, the carriage doesn't matter. The point is that I got run over, and should not be breathing, yet here I am talking to an unknown creature.

"Hmm, ok I think we get it. You called it a car, because it's short for carriage."

Sam complained "Ugh, fine let's just leave it at that. Call it whatever you want, I don't care."

The figure chuckled with an amused "If you don't care, then why are you telling me this?"

"Arrrrrrgggghhhhhh!" Sam groaned.

The figure let out a multitude of hearty laughs. "Amusing, but that is not what actually happened. Here, allow us to fill you in. You see, we used the sigils you see beaming around you to create your form. From ashes, dust, and the darkest of magic's you are given sapience. However, these strange thoughts, we cannot account for them. Simply put, you are born to serve his eminence: Carmine Crow. As for us, we are known as the Inspector.

Sam asked "Ok you keep referring to yourself in the plural sense Mr. or Mrs. Inspector, why?"

"We're honored you would ask such a thing." They brought a scaly claw to their face. "One body, but dozens of souls. Carmine Crow has bestowed upon us the elegant form you see before you."

It was Samuel Hunter's turn to be sympathetic, "Well I guess I can relate to that, being stuck as a cog in the wheel of society. I'm here for you if you ever need to talk." He raised a paw to the Inspector, which turned out to be an immediate mistake. Inspector quickly took the opportunity to grab him. The shadowy figured brought Sam to his ethereal face, and proceeded to give an affectionately terrifying nuzzle.

The cloaked figure let out an overly emotional wail, "Touching, Amusing, Understanding!" Inspector's words were now overlapping, and much more varied in pitch. He set the overly coddled Sam back down again once more. Inspectors sudden action gave Sam the opportunity to notice the very same paws that naturally allowed him to stand upright. Sam responded with a startled yelp as he tried to get a sense of why he had fluffy paws.

"What happened to me, my hands are hands no more!" Sam panicked.

"Well like we said, you were conjured. Obviously, that means you're designed to look a certain way. Your form is our very own trademark design," the figure bragged with confidence.

"Yeah, well there must be a terrible mistake. These aren't my hands. Give me back my hands!" said an irritated Sam.

"Hands?" the figure said with confusion.

"Haaaaaaands!" argued Sam before lifting up his paws to show the shadowy figure.

Inspector took hold of the creature's claws. "These are paws."

Sam let off a frustrated grunt. "Right? So can't you change me back?" He chose his words carefully so that the clueless giant could hopefully understand. "I am supposed to be a human. You know, stands on two legs. Wears and weaves clothing similar to what you have now?"

"Your imagination is a bit too colorful," the figure complained. "I can't transform you into something you have never been before." They attempted to echo a reassuring "Hands aren't a bad idea for creature designs, but I'm sure these will serve you just as well." His own claws tapped Sam's digits.

Sam tugged on his fur in frustration. "This is all too unreal, I refuse to believe it so I'm waking up in three seconds. One, Two, Three!"

Inspector laughed at Sam once more. "Haha looks like you're awake. Congratulation, did you have a good dream?" Sam yelled at the figure with a rancor, "Stop teasing me!" The figure responded with an amused "Or what? Am I going to have to catch these hands?" Sam was lifted in the air by both of his front paws once again. He was helplessly dangling several feet above the ground, although the distance still felt remarkable gargantuan as Sam remembered his now small size.

The evidently transformed, or possibly conjured, Sam thought about how his life had been ruined. Sam's perception hinted at a very difficult life lying ahead of him. A flood of anxiety washed over him, as he thought how he would struggle to hold a pencil, drive a car, or partake in a plethora of other human related activities. Additionally, he would probably never see his family, or friends again. He was effectively disabled, and the only company to soothe him, was also the one responsible for his downfall. When combined, teasing and fear sent Sam into a vehement rage.

Sam insulted the creature in an attempt to get back at them somehow. "Ugh, I get it, but stop. I don't know you, and we aren't friends so put me down this Instant! I hate you. I hate you with every fiber of my tiny insignificant being!" The unknown figure cautiously put him down. Sam raged on with a "And let me be clear, you didn't create me!" He was out of breath.

Sam stared at the Inspector with enough malice to burn a hole through the Sun. However, the cloaked figured had fallen uncharacteristically silent, while deciding to move towards the room's exit. They grabbed a lantern off the wall, before making one last comment on departure. "Let us at least-" Inspector was cut off. Sam responded with a spiteful "Go to Hell!" The figure exited the door and made a hasty retreat.

Huffing with discontent, and satisfied that the nuisance was now gone, Sam took stock of his newfound self. It was a bit difficult to see his sleek black fur camouflaging itself excellently in the near complete darkness. Sam tried to get closer to the glowing runes, but their blue hue made for a very poor light source. Sam ran his tiny paws alongside the outline of his body with the intent of figuring out what kind of creature he had become.

First, he had to consider why he was a lot smaller than the two legged Inspector. Sam guessed that he could be dealing with a giant as he originally thought, but the oversized door, and lantern made him suspicious. Furthermore, his head held rather odd protrusions. They were hard like antlers, but from the guess of their small shape he figured they must be horns. Next, he put his paws on the center of his face, and found that most of it was taken up by a singular eye. To his shock, he failed to find a second. "Why do I only get one eye!" he complained. Sam felt unsure on if he had turned into some sort of Imp or Cyclops. However, what he found next threw him way off as he appeared to have a long black tail. Sam attempted to make it wiggle, and it proved to be quite cat like in the sense that his control withheld dexterity. Sam pondered with a dissatisfied "Seriously, What am I!"

Tail now in tow, Sam got tired of simmering in the lonesome dark room, and decided to escape before the monster could return. Sam circled around the room to survey its outline, before realizing that he was technically not wearing any clothes. He thought "Maybe the giant considers fur to be suitable clothing?" Not wanting to take any chances, he huddled in the darkness to keep himself from feeling exposed. Foolishly, he was now stumbling over the uneven rock path despite no one actually being around.

Sam eyed the one and only door that the Inspector used to escape, and realized that it was sealed shut. He gave a disdained "Rat," before realizing that his luck had not run out. Clearly he wasn't designed to stay in that uncomfortably dark room, as there was a cut out square which could conveniently be used by someone of his tiny caliber. He helped himself to the exit, and found a long stone path. Unfortunately, or arguably fortunately, there was more darkness for Sam to stumble through.

Sam inevitably discovered a new light source. It was coming from the other side of a doorway, and he could guess that it the room was occupied, because of the packed verbal commotion. With a sense of curiosity, he looked around the doorway. Its many occupants looked quite familiar. It was like a sea of Sams. He never guessed that this amount of Sam's could ever exist in one place. Technically, they probably weren't actually Sam, but they did have the telltale sight of long tails, greasy black fur, and sharp horns. With similarity to the real Sam, they had no possession of clothing. Only one detail set these Sams, as he called them, apart.

The not actually Sams had stark white blotches in their fur on randomized parts of their bodies. Each patterned contained a unique number. For instance, one could have the number fifty six on his forehead while another could have a forty seven boldly printed across their tail. Just to make sure, Sam rechecked his fur to see if he had his own number, but once again he found none. The weasel like Sams were in a dense crowd waiting. Sam hoped that the code wasn't meant to sort livestock.

The weasel like creatures were waiting in front of a new type of door. It looked to be immensely heavy. Several of them were clearly anxious as they swished their tails side to side. A loud and heavy rumble vibrated from the doorway, which caused the crowd to fall eerily silent. The door began to open slowly as its rusty hinges threatened to break off with an irritatingly metallic screech. Overly eager, the flood of Sams were slowly pushed back as they obstructed the doorway.

A large two legged giant stepped out of the entrance. It appeared to be some sort of half boar, half man monstrosity. His body was immensely round, and oversaturated. However, he was also contained a generous amount of muscle as his biceps were the size of tree trunks. His tusks were sharp, and uncomfortably oversized. The giant wore clothing that was ragged, and out of date, with a chef's apron containing a blood stained message demanding to "Kiss the Cook." The giant patted the underside of a wooden barrel, in order to expel its contents.

Bones were tossed from the construction, and given to the eagerly waiting crowd. Sam's stomach dropped as he heard the sound of teeth attempting to gnaw through ivory shells. The more patient creatures licked the savory calcium surface. Others gave an impatient chomp, with the objective of slurping up the raw marrow that waited inside. A bit disgusted, and a bit sympathetic towards his own kind, Sam was sure the treat didn't come with any real meat on them as they were obviously just scraps. Despite feeling nauseous, the sight of filling bellies, and pleasured burps, made Sam's stomach instinctually betray him as it sounded a hungry grumble.

Like a pile of blood mangy rats, the weasel like critters crawled over one another in order to compete for their share. One number twenty five, as his number suggested, jumped to top of the pile holding some sort of fabulous prize. He shouted a triumphant "First!" Unfortunately, an equally speedy number one hundred one disagreed, "Nuh Uh!" The two tugged away at each other until it snapped which caused them both to clumsily tumble from the top of the hill. Both of them yelled "Quick! Make a wish" in unison.

All of this was too much for Sam who refused to join in and eat. He remembered his mom's cooking, and how his father and sister would also fight over the thanksgiving turkey's wishbone. However, instead of eating sickening raw meat, he could politely take his time and savor the succulent hot poultry. Additionally, it would be provided with flavorful fatty gravy, and buttery bread delight. He was never one who liked having to keep his elbows off the table, and sit up properly, but this was madness.

The hungering crowd was entertaining enough for even the boar man to stand around and watch. However, Sam's emotions were at their limit as he decided he had enough. Quickly scampering down the hall, he let out a devastated sniffle. Stopping to regain his composure, he cleaned his button nose by unceremoniously rubbing it into his arm fur. Regrettably, Sam pulled a string of sticky mucus away from his face. Without tissues, Sam had to get creative so he yanked out a patch of lose hair to use as substitute. Unfortunately, fluff is a rather ineffective handkerchief; their tickling sensation demanded for an immediate sneeze. Unable to answer the call, Sam trumpeted an even greater blast of slimy wetness, which put him in a far worse situation than where he began. If Sam didn't have fur than his face would have been beat red.

Dirt floor, greasy fur, and sticky face made Sam long for a cleansing bath. He figured that there was probably a lack of hot running hot water, in such an inhospital environment. Not unless, the untrustworthy looking Boar man decided to cook him over a stove top. His fight or flight sense was telling him to escape this horrid place. If need be, Sam would run to the end of the earth it gave him a shot at a better life. Quickly running past several corridors, his heart beat fast, and his vessels reached an uncomfortably hot temperature. Sam collapsed with shallow breath as soon as he reached the next light source.

The cold ground permitted Sam to cool his jets, and his body began to cool back down to the acceptable norm. Sam whimpered, face first, on the cold hard ground. Relaxing his overused muscles was immensely satisfying, and he hoped that moment would last forever. In his old life, Sam attempted to participate in sports. Unfortunately, he could never muster the motivation to become a star athlete. His athletic ability was immensely average. Therefore, he spent many school basketball games watching jealously from the bench. In the athletic world, mediocrity caused Sam to perceive himself as a loser.

In terms of how much time passed, Sam didn't care. Although a few salty tears dribbled against the ground, he had to admit that his cries of frustration made for a healthy vent. Meanwhile, there was a shadowy figure who signaled their presence with a purposely loud slurp of whatever ale they happened to be drinking. "Playing dead didn't work the first time, and it certainly won't work the second time" the Inspector denounced.

"Shut up! I know that already!" Sam resented the fact that he hadn't checked the newfound room to see if it held an audience.

"How's that ground taste?" the Inspector teased

"Oh quite good actually" was Sam's answer.

The Inspector watched Sam for only a moment, but the tiny monster had no other agenda besides contemplating defeat. After an uncomfortably awkward silence, the Inspector went back to what they were previously doing. The strange shadowy figure flipped through a book large enough to remind Sam of his currently small size. The grimoire's binding was made of some sort of animal skin, and its holder was clearly trying to pretend they were looking away. Sam wondered why the creature kept suddenly deciding to be so cold, and aloof, and he found himself gawking at the shadowy figure.

"So, you drink?" Sam asked.

"It's just water," the figure responded.

"But do you drink, as in drink drink?" Sam persisted.

"All living animals require water to live, also the moon is round. Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to?" The figure sounded irritated.

The realization hit Sam like a ton of bricks. Despite the Inspectors cold and greyish appearance, the stranger had clearly been hurt by his previous words. Sam started to wonder if he had been too harsh. However, the notion that he was created from essentially nothing bothered Sam. Even if his memories were fake, his existence felt real. Sam flicked his tail in stressful thought, but couldn't connect the dots. If his memories were artificially created, there would surely be a purpose behind them.

"Ok so hypothetically, say you did create me, how do you explain my previous memories?"

The figure groaned "What are you talking about?"

"Well I have memories of my past life, so clearly they must either be real or you put them there."

The figure looked away for a moment. Sam didn't want to let the opportunity pass so he pushed his interrogation forward; "Is there something you're not telling me? You wouldn't lie to a little guy like me." Sam batted his eyelash in an attempt to look cute. The figure crossed their legs and responded with an "It's a tough question, and it's not like we have to tell you anything."

Sam reasonably updated his tactics. "Aww, are you gwumpy wumpy, because of what I said earlier. Maybe Sammy could say he's sorry." Sam nudged closer to the indifferent giant.

"Maybe he could," said the Inspector. Sam almost blew up from frustration, but he kept his personal feelings intact. The figure had his arms crossed defensively, but they made the mistake of looking back towards Sam's direction. The weasel gave off a devilish grin.

"We would start all over from square one, in which case Sammy Wammy would have to acknowledge you by allowing gwumpy wumpy to give him a singular head pat. Maybe even, dare I say, Multiple? Sam purposely fell over the giants show with an expressively theatrical display.

The Inspector gave in with a "Very well." He reached forward to scratch Sam on the head. The ink colored weasel then pretended to enjoy their affection, and even pulled the giants hand in closely for good measure.

Sam's eyes sparkled as he looked into the figures unseen gaze. "Hi, I'm Sammy Wammy, and I just met you, but I think I love you." It was too much, Sam had the figure by the wrist now. The inspector couldn't get away, and was therefore obligated to play along.

"Greeting's small one whom I have never met before. My name is the Inspector and, once again, we am the beings who have conjured you. From ashes, dust, and the darkest of magic, we have created you and given you sapience." The Inspector seemed hesitant.

"Aaaaaaaaannnddd?" provoked Sam.

"And the spell perfectly created you from nothing just as it did for all the numbers you may have encountered on your way here, and then the confused Sam made up false pretenses about having past memories," the Inspector elaborated.

"Nope, not buying it. So you better tell Sammy Wammy the truth before he revokes his love, and allowed head pats" complained Sam

The figure roared in frustration, before emitting a jet black flame from his face which stretched towards the ceiling. "Impossible, irrational, erroneous!" A powerful gust of wind made it difficult for Sam to hang on to the colossal hand. Books went flying off the oak desk, and parchment fluttered up the newly created draft. It took a moment for the apparent calamity to cease. However, it wasn't long before the room was calm once again.

The Inspector cleared their throat; "We suppose it would be possible that a tinsy tiny error was made during the developing ritual."

"Like how tiny, me tiny or?" Sam questioned, and the giant held two fingers close together to indicate that it was an immensely insignificant error.

"It's the kind of error that could have been easily prevented, but it is now a stain on our pride."

"Wait, are you trying to say I'm some sort of mistake?" Sam whimpered.

"No, your species serves a distinct purpose, and is created on a regular basis by the various servants who serve the High Lords."

"So, you're saying I'm some sort of clone?" Sam interjected.

"Yes, and one that is rather easy to make. So you see, making a mistake is rather, embarrassing." The Inspector tapped two pointing claws together to make a pleading gesture.

"Ok, so how does this affect me?" Sam wanted to know why he existed desperately, which caused his heart to pump with existential dread. His head was starting to feel dizzy once again. The Inspector jotted down some notes before showing them to Sam.

"Oh, your form is completely normal. We don't see any issues with it, and so we remain quite proud." The figure turned from a confident tone, to a one with concern. "However, we cannot account for your behavior. It is entirely unruly, and strange. In a normal state, you would be quite docile, and happy. You may of even felt a strong son- father bond, as some call it, but instead you independently give yourself the name Sam."

Sam interjected; "What, I shouldn't call myself Sam?"

"It's not normal, because your kind have always received their numbers from others. Your head should only be filled with the thoughts of well-known encyclopedias, and dictionaries. Like a creature who can reason, only because its knows the alphabet. We watch you, but you act with the intelligence of someone else. Someone who shouldn't be in there." The Inspector tapped Sam's noggin.

"Hmm, so does this mean you finally believe me," Sam beamed.

"Well, if that makes you happy than we will consider your beleifs, but only hypothetically."

Sam felt like jumping for joy as he had clearly made some progress with his skeptic. ''Great, so you'll transform me back into a human, or maybe even put me back in my original world?"

The giant gave a pained chuckle, "And why would you want that?"

Sam stopped to consider his position. On one paw, he was in an unfamiliarly terrible environment, but on the other he had clearly died young in his old world. He wondered if death was the mechanism for how he survived. Sam never considered the prospect that reincarnation and magic could be real. However, Sam also considered that his existence was some surreal dream. A world artificially created by a coma induced mind. The infinite possibilities of the universe stunned Sam who was now staring into space with a blank expression.

"Aaaaarrrrgghh, this is hurting my brain," Sam complained, "Listen, I really don't know. I mean of course I want my old life back, but it's just, I,I-" His eye began to well up, as he realized going back probably wouldn't result in a favorable outcome.

Meanwhile, the now freed Inspector took the opportunity to pick Sam up and put him into the hall once again. They looked at each other, and then the figure closed the both familiar door designs; big and small. Sam could hear the rattling of a lock, which sealed away the only available companion. He could hear a disgruntled "We grow weary of these foolish games" from the other side.