[Written between November 25th and the 31st of 2002]
[Last Edited 8/19/15]

Disclaimer: Sanami Matoh holds all rights to FAKE. However, any original characters contained within are my own (not that it matters much in the end).

"Mad Season"
Chapter One: A Beginning

In a large clearing of the vacant park with the full moon shining brightly in the sky above, one could make out a figure, solitary in his sentry. It was a tall lanky man sitting quietly atop a wooden park bench, his feet dangling over one of the sides. His clothing was plain, cerulean jeans, long sleeved crimson dress shirt, and a worn black leather jacket that lay in his lap unused for the moment despite the chilly environment.

His skin was tan even though the recent New York winter had been especially harsh, and he hadn't seen any warm weather for days now. One pair of emerald eyes blinked and then refocused on the pale colored moon above him as Dee Laytner ran a hand through his short-cropped black hair and sighed. The exhalation of breath itself was soft, a sharp contrast to the gravelly deep voice in which he spoke. He'd come here to gain some peace of mind, and found his mind obstinately refusing to grant him his lone desire.

Shaking his head back and forth curtly, Dee reached into his jacket pocket for his ever-present pack of cigarettes, a moment later holding the lit plastic lighter to the cancer stick and inhaling deeply as the tip began to glow orange. Dee made short work of the cigarette, puffing contentedly, looking out among the shadowed clearing with an arched eyebrow. It seemed no one but crazies, the forever oblivious, and criminals wandered out into the darkness at this time of night. The question that vaguely amused Dee was what category did he fall under?

With another flick of the lighter, he began work on a new cigarette, sighing heavily as Dee slid down the park bench, coming to rest on the balls of his feet. In one boneless motion he stood, pressing his lips tightly around the pasty cylinder to prevent it from escaping its unstable position. Dee scanned the clearing once again, instincts taking a brief hold on him before his tense shoulders shifted into a more relaxed posture. He started to walk towards the dark forest path when a flick of movement caught the corner of his eye, stopping mid-step.

It was a shady looming outline that dragged itself from the recluse of the forest path. It was panting wildly in an unsteady rhythm that signified it was in deep pain, and obviously suffering immensely from something other than its injuries although what exactly Dee could not discern. The creature was at least seven feet tall, covered in thick black fur that matched the shadows almost perfectly. If it had not revealed itself, Dee would have never known it was there.

Its long snout opened, revealing white glistening teeth, which could never be mistaken for anything other than a killing weapon. Amber eyes glowered at Dee and he struggled to breathe under that burning gaze, like a lighthouse light burning brightly as it turned his way. Long muscular arms ended in crude claws, with points that gleamed sharp in the moonlight above. The legs were protracted, and muscles flexed as the creature crept closer, seeming oddly cautious until Dee could see the furred skin on its legs roll up and down with the movement.

Blood ran in deep heavy lines down its neck, and Dee fought the urge to lean forward and prod at the wound, common sense telling him that to do such a thing would be beyond ignorant. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back from that form of contained violence, eyeing the creature closely as he did so, for a low growling sound crawled out of the beast's throat but it did not make any further advances towards him.

At a better vantage point, Dee could see the injuries had been made by various weapons, making particular note of the bullet wounds. All of them were at close range if the carnage surrounding the holes was of any indication, as well as a few deep cuts, obviously inflicted upon the beast by knives.

His voice, which he feared would come out an octave higher than usual, came out normal, in an oddly detached-professional tone, "Well, looks like you've been dragged through hell and back," Dee commented, wondering if the creature could actually comprehend human speech. What was this anyway? No dogs he was aware of actually loomed over their owners.

Angry yelling pervaded the air, and before he could glance back fully at the creature, there was a sudden hardness to its strange eyes, and Dee could scarcely draw in a breath when pain ripped its way across his shoulder. He suddenly found himself sprawled about the ground, forcing his lungs to function as they normally did, a challenge in of itself as Dee became aware of footfalls nearby.

The ground quivering slightly beneath him, Dee raised his head to see several dark shapes cross his line of vision, one of which neared close enough to raise a pale hand to his forehead. Unconsciously, Dee leaned into the touch, hands moving of their own accord to reach out and clutch at the wrist of that proffered hand.

"What the hell's-" he questioned, unable to draw anymore words when the pain of his wounded shoulder rolled his mind under completely, dark streamers eating at the remainder of his vision. Vaguely, Dee was aware of someone repositioning his body, something foul hitting the ground then coolness replacing the hand on his forehead.

When Dee could see clearly again, a face of mixed ancestry met his gaze evenly with a touch of irritation. As a male voice sprung out of that mouth, Dee grimaced when the sound entered the air, for his senses seemed to be hyperaware of every little sound.

"Looks bad, the beast struck him across the shoulder and chest, managing a competent bash to his head as well. His pupils are uneven, which might indiciate he has a concussion but we'll not be sure of that until Doc Campbell checks him over." Through his daze, Dee figured the man had one foot on American soil. The other he could not place, Asian perhaps? Only one of the dark gray eyes directed at him actually saw Dee, the man's left one was a cold white thing that moved in sync with the other, the area around the damaged eye covered in angry ashen scars that screamed quite an interesting history.

The world threatened to revolve 180 degrees when his body was readjusted, the reason only becoming clear when smooth-skinned fingers came to rest on his neck, pressing lightly for a moment then shifting away altogether. Was he imagining all this or had reality really become so skewered?

"Diana, check his clothes for any sort of ID." Hands grabbed hold of Dee's arm, pulling him up to his feet, only to take hold of him completely as Dee's legs refused to obey him correctly when something dark rolled across his vision. Hardly aware of it, several moments went by before Dee could focus on the current happenings around him.

There was a slam of a car door, a metallic whir, and the feel of cold night air rushing onto his fevered skin then a light female voice spoke to him quietly, obviously intent on keeping him from falling asleep, "Hold on a little longer please, Dee. It's not that far to Randy's apartment and once Doc has looked you over and confirmed you aren't suffering from a concussion, you can rest all you want, all right?"

Dee managed a slight nod of the head then restrained from any further movement as the small motion had made his teeth clinch tightly, and head pound even harder than before. Pain jolted him from his short daze, and after a comforting pat on the shoulder, Dee grimly set himself to the task of resisting the darkness that rested on the edge of his vision. When brakes screeched, time seemed to hasten and when a soft surface presented itself, he started, forgetting for a moment that the people around him were trying to assist him, not injure him further.

For a time, small hands prodded his wounds before someone's muttering voice became apparent, fixed on the task in front of him and not in his current surroundings it seemed. A second voice, the one he had first heard at the park joined in soon enough, and Dee forced himself to focus on the conversation. "…You're saying that he may have had a concussion but it's difficult to tell even though I told you of his symptoms upon our arrival in the park?"

"Ryo, I'm not doubting what you saw but given current circumstances and possible pending changes in the future, his body obviously saw fit to heal the more life-threatening injuries before the superficial ones. Not that it…werker…later on…" The words began to blur, fading in and out before Dee fell into oblivion, numb to the pain that screamed from his shoulder and his ever-aching head, and most of all, oblivious to all the mayhem that had recently taken place.

To Be Continued…