Echoes of Anima

Author's Notes

After a chilling visit from the government, Wyatt is back home, and now must reconcile his formative years with his new charge.

Its been almost a year since I posted anything. This series in particular is one of my favs and I had a few drafts on the backlog. I find that while writing is one of the things I enjoy, it also comes with some dread for me. Not to be depressing, simply I need to learn to not pressure myself into writing. It never ends productively.

Thanks to all who left comments on my works in positive response, I think that hooked me back in more than anything.

Let me know what you think of the chapter in the comments!

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The early morning visit by his friend "Umbra" of the NPSA certainly woke him better than any dose of caffeine. Looking into the mirror, he splashed his face with cold water and contemplated the stressful game of chess he was in. Whether they called themselves friends or not, having agents of the state watching you closely was a double-edged sword. He was no longer the simple farm boy he wished he was. He needed to leave home... and soon... for Hannah and Grandma's sake.

"Req, let's go check the animals, make sure they were taken care of."

A long and high whine followed. The Link shared all their thoughts and concerns, and both were certainly on the same page. While he didn't expect his Nocanis to understand what an Agent of the state was, Req could sense his master's anxiety.

Rifling through his clothes, he took stock of what he might bring. For today, he chose the standard rustic jeans and white t-shirt he wore nearly every day on the farm. Packing a few things in his backpack, he felt the rustle of a container that he had been granted back at CABRI.

Pulling it out, he had really forgotten much of its purpose. It had some medicine, supplies, and first aid gear that Doctor Caldwell had briefly gone over.

"Your profession is an exhausting one. The more you perform, the higher the expectations will rise. Your body is your craft, and you must take care of it."

Doctor Caldwell's words from one of the last days of class. It reminded him there were a few things he was expected to take regularly: vitamins and medicine meant to help him perform. The instructions printed on the carton were pretty clear, "30 DAY SUPPLY, CONTACT HANDLER FOR REFILL".

"I wouldn't wish these pills on a horse," Wyatt repeated an age-old idiom back in a time when there were actual horses. He winced as they went down dry, then regretted he didn't take a sip of water as he cupped what he could in his hand under the faucet.

"Blaahhh."

"Arrrooooo."

"Oh shush, you didn't have to take them." Perhaps Reqium felt the gagging through the Link. Of course, the thought of gagging made him wonder about that thing Nurse Christi did with her mouth....

Speaking of the thoughts... those pills certainly gave him some energy in places he wouldn't have expected. A tingle in his loins rose as the vitamins took effect.

It was time to go to town...

----

"Grandma? Hannah?" He called, on the threshold of his childhood home, looking out towards the stables and rolling hills. Not a single human answer found him, but a good deal of commotion from the barn caught his attention.

"Gods, what's going on now..." A whine familiar with the set of mischievous Ramblets struck a chord. Grabbing the farm's NEST, a box with a clip on it to snap to his belt, much larger and unwieldy than the one he wore on his wrist, he made his way to the sounds of chaos. He could feel there was no good going on. Requiem whined as the mixture of the two NESTs came together.

"Sorry, Req, hang here for a moment." He hung up his wrist chain to spare his Anima the overload on the Link. As usual, when he took off his NEST, Reqium whined, unable to feel his master's presence.

"I'll be right back, chill chill."

The barn was just a few meters away, and it didn't take a Link to sense there was chaos. Throwing open the large doors, he caught one overgrown Ramblet with cruel horns mid-buck. Standing on its hind legs, it dove into a charge, strutting across the hay-laden floor at a reticent Biceptor.

Snarls and whines from the bipedal Anima met with the stiff arming of its pitchfork to hold off the charge. The two Anima did this over and over, the biceptor deflecting most of the horned charges with the butt of its pitchfork, its straw hat the only casualty.

"Buckshot! Stop that!" Wyatt yelled, pointing at the Ramblet as it set upon the biceptor. This time, the bipedal Anima known as a "Southern Aggie Biceptor," meant as a synthetic farmhand for menial labour, aimed the prongs of the pitchfork at the charging Ramblet.

"Boomer! No!" Wyatt made his own charge, grabbing the pitchfork and aiming it at the ceiling as he held out a foot to fend off the Ramblet. He was stuck between two Anima, his upper-body strength and his foot the only things between them and bloodshed. The old NEST they used on the farm was not perfect, so he did not feel the same absolute authority he did on Reqium. Both Anima fought with him, eager to get at the other.

"Hey, hey, eeuup!" A sharp whistle broke the two apart, the Ramblet "Buckshot" and the Biceptor, "Boomer" pushing back and going on their separate ways.

At the other end of the barn, Grandma Daycott exerted control. Standing firm with her hands on her hips and shaking her head.

"Grandma... geez. Glad to see you. Seems like they were up to no good again." Wyatt made a lighthearted joke and engaged in small talk.

Grandma simply walked up to Wyatt and held out her hand. She had a stone-cold expression, not letting any emotion through as she waited for Wyatt to turn over the farm's NEST.

"I uh, didn't see you or Hannah this morning. So I wanted to check on the Anima..."

She walked past him, putting the NEST on her own hip and patting the Biceptor on the shoulder as he clutched his pitchfork. A sadness appeared in Boomer's eyes when she donned the Link. Wyatt was left wondering just what he had done to be relinquished of his grandmother's affection.

"Don't you have 'business' in town... breeder?" She looked away from him, a question as if to a stranger.

"Well, I wanted to get supplies, make sure you and Hannah were ok... before I have to leave and all."

"You were gone for eight days, and we were just fine then. We'll be just fine still."

"Grandma... I'm sorry... I just want to..."

But Wyatt was left in silence, Grandmother slipping out of the barn on the opposite end that she had come, leaving him with many questions.

---

Whicketsham, he couldn't see himself staying. It could be a mix of his grandmother's adverse reaction to the revelation of his vitality and the tension he felt towards every woman he had known. But either way, the fate of his future being out there, beyond the hills he was so fond of, was real.

Over dusty mudcaked roads, past pastures of dairydoes, and alongside rotted wooden fences, he strutted into town, hands in his pockets and head low. He wanted to make it quick; perhaps ripping off the band-aid of his departure would make it easier for his grandmother and Hannah. Reqieum felt his master's melancholy, as they sauntered past buildings erected over a hundred years before Anima were born of humanity's hubris, and long before the Orange Flu stripped them of their dignity.

The town was quiet, most tending to their farms or preparing to open shop or market stall for the day. The liveliest places in town at this hour were the Plough & Plate, Whicketsham's local breakfast fare, and the back alley behind the Sowteer warehouse, where the newest members of the Anima Adventure hung around.

The Plough & Plate was easy enough to walk past, the older members of the community too engrossed in the country omlets, coffee, and conversation. But slipping past the gaggle of eighteen-year-olds, those he had grown up with in this small town, was no easy task. It was not a moment before he left the wafting smell of flapjacks and syrup and smelt the lingering stench of synthetic pork from the warehouse, when one of his peers saw him in the distance.

"Hey yo Wyatt! What gives?" David, his accent thicker than the mud on his boots, called out. The dozen or so boys, girls, and their accompanying Anima turned their heads at the same time, seeing their long-lost peer slip out of the corner near their hangout alley.

Silently, Requiem slunk back, still out of sight of the peer group. It was now their thing that Wyatt should walk alone while his Nocanis silently stalked in the distance. Such a dramatic Anima, but Wyatt could appreciate the theatre of it.

"Get over here. Where have you been?"

Dropping his shoulders, Wyatt sighed. Truth be told, he didn't have much time for friends. Unlike most his age, who had a family unit, maybe multiple brothers, a mother, or even a "father-like" figure, Wyatt was left doing the heavy lifting on the Daycott ranch. Sure, Hannah and Grandma did their best, but it was primarily up to him.

"Hey." He approached the gang sitting atop four-wheelers marked for agricultural use only, surrounded by various Anima they had raised on their own farms or been granted at the start of their new adventure. A Tuskin with its nasty snorts and aggressive hoof rutting stood opposed to a Scurravox no larger than a handbag. He must have interrupted the opening salvos of a trainer battle. The teens of the town sharpening each other's wits before embarking.

"Bro, we haven't seen you in forever, not since that night at CABRI. What happened?"

The boys in this lot had been at CABRI at the same time as Wyatt for testing and orientation. Of course, Wyatt was the only one held back due to his more emergent properties. He dreaded what story he would need to weave for his excuse; his mind was set on leaving in a hurry.

"Oh, just got a little sick, that's all."

Some of the girls giggled. They had their orientation for the adventure locally and simply needed a few forms signed off by their doctor. All of them now were of breeding age, and Wyatt's new instincts were running wild with the possibilities.

But none struck a chord in his loins like Saide Morgan, keeping to the background, her more demure persona observed him briefly from afar. Yet Wyatt could not help but linger on her. Her rounded face, button nose, and large, thoughtful yet quiet eyes made her his boyhood crush. If it could be considered a crush. While his desire may have been curtailed back then, it wasn't now. His eyes burned across the surface of her dirty blonde hair and around her dainty shoulders as she shifted her gaze in discomfort.

His breath was utterly stolen, like a veil had been peeled away. A latent desire was now a full-borne flame.

"You look sick, bro." David gave him an odd look, wondering what he was so fixated on.

Some of the girls whispered. It was an old rumour of his fixation with Sadie, often doting on her with favours and kind words. The girls of this world, especially the young and beautiful, were bold and confident in their sexual superiority over the men. Their self-importance, coupled with the self-loathing of an impotent boy, often manifested in domineering attitudes.

Despite their whispers, Sadie had never treated him wrong, to his face at least. But she had been cold, and that ice layer was growing thicker the more he stood there staring.

The only issue is that Wyatt wasn't that same helpless boy they snickered at. And he felt a creeping desire to show them all just how it was.

"No, I'm all good now." He pryed his eyes away from Sadie. "So what are ya'll doing?"

"Oh... nothing, just a bit of a bet."

"A bet?"

"Yeah..." David wickedly smiled at the rest of the half dozen boys. "Sort of a challenge, winner gets the right to challenge a girl."

"Challenge?"

"Yeah, battle 'em... and if you win that... well." He looked to the girls, some smiling, some with expressions of confidence, others sticking out their tongues in disgust.

"You get to soak."

It was a harsh bet... Wyatt nodded in surprise. Yet somehow, he felt the girls won either way.

"You in?"

"I'll watch and think about it next round."

Snickering, David nodded and rejoined his snorting and mudcaked Tuskin on the water-saturated field of battle. The whispers about Wyatt continued. Where was his Anima? What had he been doing? Is the impotent boy still moping over Saide? Wyatt strangely felt like he could hear them all. He wondered if, with Reqium's genetica, his hearing was that much better, and through the Link, he could now discern such hushed conversations. It would be a helpful trick if that's the case.

In the corner of his eye, he observed Sadie some more. Her spaghetti-string tank top revealed her dainty shoulders, which she rubbed against the cold, humid air. Wyatt's silent attention seemed to draw her more into the fringes, her own eyes catching his watching.

"Go till down?" Billy, a rather pot-bellied and scruffy-looking eighteen-year-old who looked like he was thirty, scratched his chin as he stood behind his red Scurravox, whose puffy throat sacks puffed in and out with each breath.

Till down, in this context, meant the trainers would fight till the other's Anima was subdued. It was a mode of battle that saved the Anima from significant harm and the need for any treatment at an Anima clinic. It was popular among newer trainers, making the whole affair less risky when access to clinic care was limited.

"S'pose so." David shrugged, tugging on his Tuskin's ear as the hog wriggled its head side to side and hooved the ground beneath it. "Hope you ain't got your hopes up for a particular lady, would hate to disappoint ya."

"Ain't no hope about it. I reckon I am just here to make sure no ladies gotta touch that nasty hog of yours."

David's Tuskin squealed at the comment, while David grimaced as he caught the secondary meaning. To add insult to injury, a few of the ladies laughed, and Wyatt himself couldn't help but snicker.

"Whatever, common and get it." David, in a showy fashion, took a power stance as his Tuskin charged on silent orders across the muddy field. Angry squealing and bared tusks darted towards the squirrel-like Anima, which was smaller than the Tuskin itself but larger than its brethren found in nature. Wyatt took note of this; undoubtedly, they would be surprised to find Billy's Scurravox more potent than expected. Anima do not grow larger than their natural forms without some hands-on training from their master. With that training came power.

All eyes were on the chaotic, loud squealing of the Tuskin as it neared, the warehouse behind them echoing with similar squeals from the hundreds of Sowteers housed there. Yet no noise matched the Scurravox as it took in a single large breath, expanding its throat sacks, and let out a screech that would deafen those in its path.

Vox, was not part of that Anima's scientific name for no reason. Its offensive power lay in its large throat sacks, where air was stored and then transferred into a hateful amount of acoustic energy.

Not only was the Tuskin sent rolling across the mud like a pork sausage crusted in batter, but the fellow teens and their Anima were forced to brace against the ferocious energy that came from such a small package.

"Come on, get up! Come on, get!" David, on his knees in the mud, slapped the earth to encourage his Tuskin to regain its footing. Instead, it thrashed about, its small hooved legs wiggling.

Once the crowd of teens had recovered, it was laughs all around as they saw the hog squealing in terror at the face of such a small Anima opposing it.

"Well, I think that's that, Sir." Billy, confident, brushed his chin and smiled. His Scurravox scampered onto his shoulders and blew its throta sacks in and out triumphantly.

David slapped the ground once more and recalled his Tuskin to his NEST in frustration. Wyatt winced. It wasn't the best strategy to keep your Anima in the NEST, defeat or not. Unless it was so injured that it needed to be stabilized, but he couldn't say everyone from his small country town had a solid head on their shoulders.

"Aight, you got this round..." David, finding a shirt once more, covered his pale, scraggly-haired chest.

Billy looked to contemplate. His finger tapped his chin as he viewed the selection of girls. For being a small town, Whicketsham did have a fine selection of ladies.

Even infected with Orange Flu, it was hard to deny that. But, Billy still had to defeat one of them. A few had more cutsey Anima rather than functional, and would be easy pickings if he really wanted to claim a prize. But like any man, he had eyes for a particular woman.

"Lacey... I reckon a beauty like you doesn't fuss around with anything less than a champion." Billy, pulling down his shirt to cover his gut pointed at a particular blonde girl resting atop a crate.

Jumping down, the smaller girl confidently strutted her boots through the mud. She had a particular country look, with a larger nose, but otherwise she was pretty. In the country of Neo Corvusia she was a solid seven out of ten. Perhaps elsewhere, she would be lucky to be a five, from what Wyatt saw in Camelot, at least. He took a mental note to possibly visit her before leaving, should he need a distraction from Sadie.

"Oh, you ain't wrong, Billy. Let me know when you find one."

A less than hostile screech from the Scurravox out of determination signaled the challenge, Wyatt standing back against the wall of the warehouse, waiting to see if Billy would get his chance to soak with the pint-sized blondie.

"Well...? You gonna bring yours out? You need an Anima girl. Unless ya are just conceding, in that case, let's go round the corner and get started."

"Ew. As if I am gonna touch you. Your limp little dingaling probs won't even get in."

She chided her challenger. The girls are less than discreetly joining in for a laugh. Even Saide, as Wyatt observed, laughed at that joke, her eyes soon traveling to Wyatt. They met gazes for a moment, Sadie quickly averting her eyes.

"Don't try it." Was what he saw in her eyes. Don't try to challenge her; she didn't want to humiliate Wyatt in the same way. Was this non-verbal conversation all in his head? A fantasy of his ego and affection for this girl? Or was it real? Either way, Wyatt was going to close out his business with Saide before he left for his adventure on the road. Whether it was in this forum, he was yet unsure.

"Besides, my Anima is already out. But I'll give you the first move."

"Fine girl."

The Scurravox lept from Billy's shoulders towards Lacey, aiming to tag her and end the match, his large buck teeth salivating at the thought of digging into her light flesh.

Before it could reach the ground from its perch, the Scurravox was plucked from mid air, never seeing the ground, while a Borealoraptor swooped in and grasped it amidst its talons. Rodent Anima were still the natural prey of bird Anima in the hawk family. The Borealoraptor, native to the more icy places of Neo Corvusia, did not discriminate in such a target. But its latest catch was not for its own feast; its white and light blue plumes soared to such a height that, when dropped, the Scurravox plummeted with a squeal. The collective breath of the onlooking crowd was stolen.

"What the fuck?" Billy, grasping his head as he watched his Anima bounce off the ground. "We're goin till down!" he yelled.

"You ain't say anything of the sort." Lacey inspected her manicured nails. It was a dirty technicality. Technically, they should have declared it at the beginning of the match. Otherwise, it defaults to no-holds-barred. Lacey obviously wanted to send a message. Her Borealoraptor swooped in and found her shoulder to perch on. She winced as its talons pinched her flesh; perhaps she needed some pad to soften her Anima's landing. Yet she held her bemused and prideful smirk while walking back to the crowd.