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Alina the Brontosaurus and Christy the Triceratops are shared intellectual property of Raphiel (FurAffinity) and DragonMasterX (Me).

Extinction Agenda, by DragonMasterX.

Three days ago.

Several monitors encircling a darkened area all lit up at once. The warming displays a contrast to the cold, anonymous silhouettes rendered on them. One of the distorted voices spoke to the sole recipient of the Minerva Foundation's board of directors.

"The preliminary results of the MARU (Metamorph Armored Reptilian Units) Initiative in your report are satisfactory, Shadow Division Chief Director, Dr. Standinoff. Subject P01 has been transferred to our core laboratories. We will be conducting final practical tests before manufacturing of this MARU can begin."

Ivan stood hunched over as usual, left arm tied to his back. "Your words humble me. The Shadow Division will continue to..."

"Not so fast," a different yet similarly warped voice intercepted. "Your losses of subjects B01 and T01 are still concerning, Dr. Standinoff. Why has their recovery not made it into your report?"

Ivan looked straight at the monitor with a grimace, as if a perfectionist craftsman had just been shown a dent in his latest decorative art. "DX5 did not give the same results on female subjects."

"Both female subjects developed a bizarre ability which allowed them to freely expand their mass to unprecedented sizes, likely a hormonal imbalance?" the same board-director quoted with a hint of irony, "That is sloppy work, even for one such as you, Standinoff."

"Yes, sir," for all his age, sagely wisdom and impatient nature, Ivan knew when to back down. "The recovery of the MARU Initiative subjects B01 and T01 were held back due to the listed risks in the report, such as the loss of the New Jersey pharmacy in..."

"Standinoff, we know the building blew up after those two grew to gigantic proportions. What I'm tired of is of your excuses. Those subjects have DX5 in them, a derivative of the Xteria the late Dr. Masters discovered. Do you understand that nobody but US can find them?"

Ivan couldn't take it for much longer. "The police were on scene as soon as the explosions and sightings were reported. For some reason, the subjects managed to escape without rousing anymore commotions. They likely shrank back, but we couldn't send a team after them without first assessing what they were fully capable of."

"He is right;" a different voice spoke, "Searching for the subjects became secondary. We had enough red tape to deal with after we lost that laboratory."

"Exactly," a renewed Ivan allowed himself a smile. "Which is why I simply need more time until I can devise a plan to capture them with as little interference from the public as possible!"

"But you are intending to continue your experiments."

"Of course. I already have a new subject for the R series..."

"Out of the question. The procuring of test subjects is already dangerous as it is, Standinoff."

"Your report is very clear on the danger of applying that variant of DX5. It was a failure."

"I will find time both for producing a different MARU type and to recover subjects B01 and T01. You may rest assured, ladies and gentlemen," Ivan looked sure, he even sounded sure. He was too used to bluffing.

"Agreed," the voice that had started the meeting spoke then: "We hope P01 is as stable as you claim him to be, Dr. Standinoff. We want no more unpleasant surprises. And we want our product ready for the market by the end of the semester. The Shadow Division may continue its operations."

"Yes... of course."

Carla had never seen her boss so angry in her two years of employment. Ivan seemed to storm right out of the conference room; background thunder would have complemented the sight. "I trust everything has gone well, Doctor," she hurried to say, although the glare the old scientist shot at her forced Carla to divert her gaze.

"How is R02?"

Carla fixed her glasses and followed Ivan down the hall, "Still anxious and uncooperative."

"We need him to be completely submissive before administration of DX6 can begin. I don't want any more giants wrecking my laboratories."

"But sir, R01 was a voluntary, and still he, well..."

"He collapsed unto himself. I know exactly what happened to R01."

Uncomfortable but still curious, Carla pushed the issue: "But why did that happen?"

"The hybridization process for R types attempts to force the subject's anatomy to adjust way faster than the actual structure can manage. It requires stabilization. Lionel is currently enhancing the batches of DX6."

"Understood. Sir, if you don't mind me asking... are you okay?"

Ivan looked ready to bust a vein, but he calmed himself enough to address his assistant. "I won't lie to you, Carla. The Shadow Division is not faring well. The higher ups want us to recapture T01 and B01, who have gone under the radar, somehow. We also need newer MARU types."

"Then why don't we move on to newer types? The R type is an unknown so far, simulations didn't predict the Masters Xteria would..."

"Masters?" Ivan interrupted with a frown, "Don't bring up that dead fool's name! I improved on his outdated technique. THAT is the problem, the core laboratories have been supplying us with outdated formulas for far too long."

Carla gulped, holding her clipboard to her chest, "Yes, doctor."

"DX6 will convince those headstrong mules, that no matter what, the MARU Initiative is superior! I will have my R type, Carla. You will see!" Ivan was determined, his voice almost the roar of a beast.

"Doctor...?"

"What is it?!"

"About the escaped subjects... I've been looking into it these past few days. How do you feel about outsourcing?"

Ivan nodded in Carla's way, wanting to hear more.

"There is a group specializing in situations with metamorphs. One of my contacts assures me they are effective."

"Out of the question, we don't want to affiliate ourselves with..."

"They are privately funded."

Ivan stopped and looked back at his secretary, "Continue."

Present day.

S.W.O.R.D. (Secret World-wide Operations Rescue and Discovery) headquarters, somewhere in the East Coast.

"Richards! You sub-normal half-wit!" Chief Samson's voice tore through his office's silence. "What the hell is this?!" his glare was both directed at Charlie Richards, a.k.a. "Stinger", and her superior, James Rogers.

As the Chief spun around his computer's monitor, Charlie and Rogers looked at the headline of a recent web article featuring the news of a super-human burning down a hospital in Arizona, and the reports of an anthropomorphic scorpion fighting it in broad daylight. "Pretty darn sexy angle if I have to judge," Charlie folded her arms and nodded at her own picture with an obvious smirk behind her facemask.

"Don't start with me, Richards. What part of SECRET do you not understand?"

"Just who wrote the acronym, I've been meaning to ask since I joined up. So do you have an entire division that comes up with...?"

Before Charlie could continue and the Chief's vein could bulge out anymore, Rogers put a hand on her shoulder. "Let me." "Jim" had always been there for her since day one; since the day the metamorph division took her in. Interpol didn't need a scorpion cop. So far though, she had been able to operate freely and solve cases, and be of help, even in her condition. This was the part of her new job as part of S.W.O.R.D. that she didn't like.

Fortunately, Jim was there to bail her out. "It's not fair," she thought with disdain as she walked away and stared at the decorated wall while the other two debated. "But then again, the Fire Cracker incident WAS my fault... Ugh. Gotta stop doing that. I couldn't have been able to tell that warehouse had an experiment that would turn a human into a metamorph."

Before she could tell, Charlie was already walking on the wall. With her hands tied behind her back she casually ruminated. "Couldn't tell mom and dad about me either," she took a gander at her scorpion body. She was of average height, her skin a pale yellow that could narrowly pass for normal. Charlie could will the black pieces of chitin armor covering her shoulders, chest, hips and forearms away with a thought. Her tail was the biggest problem. She had to tie it around her waist and use big clothes to make it pass like a belly. Thanks to all of these measures and more complications due to her inhuman form, Charlie's appearance as a civilian had drastically changed. With a father in hospital and an over-protective mother, she didn't want to bring any more problems after her visit to her home-town of Phoenix took a turn for the disastrous. By bringing in the purported super-villain Fire Cracker to the same hospital her parents had been in, Charlie had unwittingly risked their lives; it wasn't something she had been able to come to terms with just yet.

Damned she was if she even cared about what Chief Samson wanted to lecture her on about. There had been no time to ponder for S.W.O.R.D.'s anonymity with her parents'- no, any number of innocent lives at stake.

"Richards."

Damned if she would ever put any silly bureaucracy before the safety of those who couldn't defend themselves. But this was the only job that would legalize her actions and not condemn her as a vigilante, an outlaw.

"Richards! Stop walking on my damn ceiling!" Samson's tone was high enough to startle Charlie, who crouched out of reflex against the surface she had stuck to.

"Gee, Chief. Could you yell any louder? Think the guys at the cafeteria didn't hear you."

Jim looked up with a serious stare. "Stinger, get down." Charlie complied. "Chief Samson would like you to hang back during non-metamorph related issues, and leave it to the local authorities instead."

"That's what I've been..."

"That night," Samson interrupted, "You placed a call for the PPD, but you directly engaged the criminals holding the Nilo night club up."

Now this was getting ridiculous. Charlie glared right at the Chief. "They were threatening my friends! Heck, I knew half of the people in..."

"Stinger!" Jim shouted her down. Charlie seemed surprised. "We don't have anything against you helping people in need. The fact remains that the government doesn't want the metamorphs to become public knowledge. Our metamorph division is one of the many secret world-wide operation agencies."

Samson continued, "We might be privately funded, but we require the OK from the actual power in order to operate. If they decide to shut us down because of you, what are you going to do about it? Tell them you couldn't leave a standard hold-up to the police?"

Charlie blushed, their logic marking a sound defeat to her arguments. She shrunk away and averted her gaze. "Consider this a warning, Richards. We want you on our team, but you must learn that the division you're part of takes care of very specialized problems. Now get out of my office, we all have work to do."

Charlie grit her teeth, feeling like a ten year old being reprimanded for spilling milk carelessly. She left the office without a word, for once. Jim was briefly held back by the Chief. "I want you to take control of your agent, Rogers. We can't have our own metamorphs going rogue, understood?"

Jim gazed at Samson's eyes before turning around, "Sir."

Two days ago.

"We have to start the procedure. DX6 is finished and R02 should be ready," Lionel was the leader of the MARU Initiative team working under Dr. Standinoff. He and Carla were the doctor's confidants.

"Don't rush yourself, we need to have the okay from the psychologist first," Carla was the most skeptical about the R02 after what she read happened to the previous test subject. It had involved many gory details, including a literal blood explosion. "The bio stress generated during the bonding process must only be the body's physical response to it."

"I know, Carla. I wrote the paper on it. You have to admit though that this is taking longer than it should. What is R02 if not another canvas for us to work on?" Carla grimaced at Lionel's easy-going nature. She was part of very questionable practices, but that didn't mean she took pleasure in what she did for the betterment of mankind. "What?"

"Never mind. DX6 passed all regulations and safety procedures, correct?" Getting a small nod from Lionel, Carla and he moved on to a one-way visor. The other room had a sole bed with a patient on it, a woman sitting beside. "I really hope this is what the doctor wanted."

"Who's the poor shmuck anyway? Been here for days and I haven't been able to get my hands on him yet."

"Gross, Lionel. But I suppose I can satisfy your 'natural' curiosity," Carla flipped over the pages of her organized notebook with Lionel peering over her shoulders. "R02: Milton Miles. NJPD. Homicide. "

"A big shot cop? Really?" Lionel chuckled, "Guess we got the jump on him, like with P01?" he asked. Carla only nodded and continued to read.

"Seven years on the force. Promoted a year ago. Ex-military. Seems to have had a bad record, oh... I guess you and he could've gotten along back when he was a private."

"Huh? Why?" Lionel seemed curious and paid extra attention to the section Carla was pointing at. The word "mania" repeated on several lines belonging to the medical examinations. "Very funny. Dude seems messed up though."

Carla continued reading, "He was discharged after he slaughtered a family of civilians during a mission in a Middle East tour; he apparently was especially convinced that they were armed hostiles, in spite of his C.O. repeatedly ordering him to stand down."

"How do you figure he made it as a detective of all things?"

A soft smile drew itself on Carla's face: "Everyone has it inside to better themselves. It's got to do with having the will power to move on."

"Will power, huh?"

"Cut me out already. I need to see them. I need to make sure they're okay." Milton had been strapped to the same bed for longer than he had been able to conform with. He couldn't feel his legs, and his brain continued to race with the thoughts of where his friends could be.

Madison had been listening to Milton's woes for a week now. Every day it seemed like some progress had been made. "Mr. Miles, we've been over this. Alina Maxwells and Christina Duval are not people."

Milton protested for the untempt time. "They're my friends. I sent them to a dangerous place, the same place I was captured!"

The psychiatrist shook her head with a sigh, "Mr. Miles, please calm yourself. No one has been captured. You simply had an episode of schizophrenia after you recalled the painful memories of your past. You are in my ward right now."

"No. No! I left that all behind me. I'm a policeman now, a detective!" yelled Milton, but the binds were too strong for him to free his tired body.

"Yes, you are a policeman, Mr. Miles. You're a detective, but you are sick. You have been committed to this ward because your colleagues fear your wild outbursts when you're reminded of your actions in the war."

"I'm not... damn it, I'm not a criminal! E-everything was cleared up! I swear. Please cut me out, I shouldn't be here!"

"This is exactly where you should be, Mr. Miles," Madison tilted her reading glasses over her nose as she read the information on her notepad. "You were the sole responsible for killing an unarmed family of four in Iraq, further, you tried to chop them to pieces and hide them before your C.O. found you out. You showed no remorse for it until you were sent to be examined by your squad's medic. At first, you insisted that it had been self-defense, but no weapons were found in that home. You were then overcome by guilt over what you had done, and your C.O. requested you be relocated. Two months later, you were officially discharged from the service, declared unfit for duty."

Milton moaned in pain at every word coming out of the blonde's plump, red lips. Normally he would be only following a mouth like that in order to get to kiss it. But now every time it opened, daggers seemed to stab his chest. "No... no! Nononononono...! Stop it, stop it!" he begged, making Madison lift her eyes from her notes. She waited, allowing the man to cope with the memories of what had been.

Milton was reduced to a fearful mass of confusion gasping for air, eyes shut. Had he not been bound, he would've already curled into the fetal position. "Mr. Miles. We all have our demons. Nobody blames you for what you did anymore, but yourself. You have tried very hard to become a productive member of society... We can't allow all of that hard work to go to waste, can we?"

"S-stop... please stop..."

"I can't, when we've made so much progress. Mr. Miles, you see these two characters, Alina and Christy, formed out of the fiction your brain has orchestrated in order to protect itself from the pain. You feel like you must rescue them in order to atone for your sins. But it's okay. You can let go now."

"I can... let go...?" Milton repeated, half-crying. Madison seemed to smile.

"Indeed. You are a war veteran now, Mr. Miles. One of the finest men fighting to serve our nation. Not every soldier, however, is indefinitely suited to combat. Your sins must be tempered with your virtues, so you must not allow your sins to compromise that which gives you the potential to help your fellow man."

"But... Christy..."

"Or Alina, they are not real," Madison finished for him, "Now you must understand, Mr. Miles. Your country needs you again. You must forget the pain, and move on."

"Y-yes. I must move on... for the good of- of everyone." Milton seemed both defeated but somehow relieved.

Madison smiled and stood up, then reached to gently stroke Milton's cheek, "That is a good boy. I assure you, we will make great use of your talents, Mr. Miles."

"Wow. She's good. Took the other psychiatrist a month to get the other cop to cooperate," Lionel commented while Carla simply wrote down more notes.

"Get your jaw back up. We'll let R02 rest for today, but that doesn't mean you don't still have work to do."

Present day.

"Stinger, hold up."

"What is it, Jim? Thought you and Mr. Personality were done biting my tail."

"Don't give me that attitude, Stinger. And stop crawling on the ceiling, come walk down like a normal person."

Charlie bounced off the ceiling and landed gracefully on the floor, but didn't make eye contact. "I'm not a normal person."

"Ease off with the drama, will you? You're bound to make mistakes. The Chief just wanted to make sure..."

Charlie turned around suddenly and walked up to Jim, placing a finger on his chest while looking up at him. "Now you listen to me. He wasn't in that club; he didn't see what I did. Those were hoods that have given guns to CHILDREN. I've been in the Interpol long enough to know what can happen with an inexperienced trigger finger."

"We don't question your goals," Jim said, "But you must understand that you're a special case."

Charlie was seething with anger, impatience holding her reasoning hostage. "So what?!" she snapped, "Put me in a cell like we did with Omega or Fire Cracker? They escaped. Are you going to blame their exposure to the media on me too? Well go on! It's MY fault! That's why I'm doing this; I want to undo those mistakes!"

"We know. I don't blame you for Omega's and Fire Cracker's escape."

"You sure don't act like it!" Charlie's tail was whipping at the air, her mandibles protruding out of her cheek pouches and snapping together violently. Jim appeared unimpressed, unlike most of their colleagues avoiding them. "All you do is give out orders, Jim. You don't have to worry about juggling people's lives in your hands. My parents were literally seconds away from being burnt to a crisp in Phoenix; did you want me to watch from two buildings away, wait for the firemen to do their job?! What kind of spineless coward do you think I am? I joined this team to make a difference where others can't! I'm not going to be held back by papers and scared leaders when there are people's lives at stake!"

Charlie seemed ready to lash out with every word she yelled. Jim simply stared at her patiently until every sentence had been completed. At this point, every pair of eyes was set on them. "What?!" she snapped to the rest, who did their best to look busy an unbothered.

"Are you done?" Jim asked. Charlie stopped for a moment, her nostrils flaring briefly under her facemask before her mandibles went back into their hidden spots. She was glaring at Jim. "Come to my office."

Charlie deflated, feeling awkward all of a sudden. She had expected a slap, perhaps a dramatic standoff. Now those stares at the shared offices heaved upon her. He had simply let her vent out her frustration and casually left for his office's door. "Alright, you're going to be the cool guy, aren't you Jim?" she snarled in her head, unwilling to make her scene any bigger now. She quietly followed her captain into his office, closing the door behind her.

Jim was sitting at his desk already, eyes on his LCDs. "There seems to be sightings of two metamorphs in New Jersey, by the Hudson."

Charlie seemed concerned by her superior's indifference. "Jim..."

"This is a contract," Jim continued, "The metamorphs seem to be missing patients from a project by the Minerva Foundation to reverse their transformations. Both targets are large in size and seem to be reptilians. You will rendezvous with Queen before leaving for the coordinates tonight. You will scout the area of interest, find and secure both packages, and then extract by fortified vehicle. Questions?"

Charlie felt every muscle in her body tense after every one of Jim's cold orders reached hear inner ears. Her pure black eyes hadn't lost their glare however. She was headstrong, and sure of what she had to do. "No sir."

"Good, gear up and go meet with your partner for this mission. End of briefing."

Charlie turned around. For some reason, this treatment was frustrating her even more than the past few months' of hazardous missions and hard decisions. She didn't want to look back or show any weakness. The scorpion left the office as quietly as she had entered.

To Be Continued...