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The quiet of the night slipped through empty rooms and corridors as if it were the very chill that parched the walls. In the bleak darkness that had crept in like a rushing tide to shore dim lights shone, if only to prove the building were there and not forgotten. It had long since been abandoned, bought out by its private owner on funds allocated to him by the board. They'd questioned his decision at the time, naturally, but it hardly seemed fitting to argue with one of the greatest minds of the century - method in madness, they supposed. It was a well-known fact amongst them that the observatory, secluded deep in the Highlands of the marshy continental isle, was a sanctuary almost for the professor. As self-absorbed and arrogant as he may be, even men like him needed the time to step away from it all and unwind. At least that's what was to be believed; the observatory had been refitted with the best of technology money could buy, all operated by the sole individual who sat deep within its maze, run with the help of an artificial intelligence of his own creation. Some had compared it to the lair of a madman, with cries of science having gone too far and a man thinking far too radically for its time, but he paid them no heed. They were just afraid of change and modernity, unwilling to think beyond their tiny boxes.

As Alexander Viking lifted his head up and opened his eyes, he smirked. They were all so insignificant, yet they all liked to pretend to be important in their right - such empty lives to be hawking after others, gossiping in magazines and newspapers. All he wanted to do was learn and discover, not overthrow a government or destroy the planet.

It was why Alexander preferred the company of men from the Meredith Foundation; people who shared his dreams and ambitions to figure out the mysteries of the universe. It was all utopian thinking, he knew that, but knowledge doesn't come from nothingness. It has to be mined and refined, until one is absolutely certain of its authenticity. Men like Stephen Colins knew him best, that their existence was so futile and yet so precious that it would be a waste to not spend all your time searching for answers to every question imaginable. Alexander however had a propensity for the sciences of physics, not the social studies of psychology and sociology. Why people tweeted so much or sat motionless in front of screens gawping at some moving picture depicting action and drama, he'd never know. Those sorts of answers weren't important for now.

Still... he felt like he was wasting his time being here. His eyes lifted upwards, taking in the vast array of screens and monitors that surrounded him, a glowing aura of bright blue illuminating the murky, cavernous chamber. This was where the main observation deck would be, had Alexander not ripped out the previous mechanics and replaced it for something of his own design - a design far more superior to that of the old rusty crap that had sat here dormant for decades. He had done the facility a favour by giving it a facelift. It was a relic of the war, forgotten and overrun with the local fauna. Now it had a purpose. Even if its current purpose was pointlessly scanning open night sky for no reason in particular. Alexander had sent Alpha off on a goose chase, scouring space for anything out of the ordinary - in those exact words, incidentally. The A.I. was such a lamb for doing his bidding when he just wanted to take time for himself. He'd programmed the thing for exactly what he didn't want to do, to make his life easier. Sadly nobody else was joining his camp of thought. They saw Alpha as a threat, a time bomb waiting to just explode one day. Alexander dubbed them imbeciles. Firewalls and safeguards were in place. Alpha was nothing more than a placid program, just like any other on a computer, with the only exception being that it could talk back to an expansive series of prompts.

"Confirmation has come in that Doctor Stephen Colins and Mister Adam Colins have landed at Eden, sir. Would you like me to do anything else, Professor Viking?"

Alexander roused himself as Alpha's silken voice sounded around the chamber. A bland, masculine-looking face flickered before the Border Collie, the pre-set texture the dog had given the A.I. to attempt to make him more personable to others. Not that it had done much good...

"That'll be all, Alpha, thank you. Resume background tasks." Alexander leant back in the office chair, a squeak echoing the room,

"Very well, sir."

The face dissolved and vanished, leaving him to stare once more at empty screens of meaningless text. There was little purpose to him coming here, to set up home at the isolated observatory, but his excuse at the time was so that he could follow up a theory he had. In truth, part of him had come to talk to his friend, arguably one of his only friends, for as long as he could. The observatory was the only facility capable of maintaining direct contact via satellite with the helicopter that was bringing the Husky to the base he was visiting on some mission the Foundation had tasked him with. He wouldn't be seeing Stephen now for another month or so, whilst he investigated some strange anomaly in the ice caps. Alexander would have loved to have gone, but the board had forced him back, deeming it to be too trivial for someone of his talents. Of course he'd been outraged at such patronisation, that he could just be wound up and sent off tottering at their whim, but he'd learnt soon after that really they just wanted him around for good press coverage. A reporter for some big time publication was supposed to be visiting him personally for an exclusive intimate interview. Alexander didn't do intimate. He'd hightailed it out of their before they'd even had the chance to set a date - hence why he sat huddled in a thermal blanket in the middle of nowhere spending his time watching boring space flit by frame by frame. If they wanted good public relations, they should have picked a nicer scientist to be their poster boy - someone willing to play ball for big wigs with more money than sense. Sure they say all the right things, but really they're just waiting for the profits and accolades to come rolling back when some doctor or professor under them hits the jackpot somewhere.

It made Alexander's blood boil. The world had become so complacent and so corrupt. The urge for knowledge had been numbed, replaced by people who only did anything if the incentive of dollar signs towered before them in bright neon.

Sighing, he extracted one paw from the cocoon of blissful warmth he'd wrapped himself up in to wipe at his fatigued eyes. They felt sore, strained from staring at harsh screens all day, and sure enough he could feel the lids becoming heavier by the second. Idly he wondered if he should sleep. It wasn't like he was going to miss much, and a couple of hours couldn't hurt just to recharge his body. But the camper bed he'd brought was so uncomfortable and it meant moving from his swaddled heaven to the cold sleeping bag that was draped across the itchy foldout. It was an unfair trade just to sleep. Alexander resolved to himself to stay awake for a few hours more, perhaps see if he could make it until daybreak, then he'd call it a night... or rather morning. It didn't matter to him much how his sleeping patterns worked. Sure, there were investigations into the matter showing how a good night's rest was productive and replenishing, but he was too stubborn even to himself to pay them any attention.

Alexander pivoted about on his chair, swinging on its centre axis so that he looked away from the screens. A looming shadow cast outwards from him, deep into the room until he could just about make out the far wall. The blue trailed far, fading off until it just glimpsed the edges of the chamber, giving Alexander a sense of perspective and depth. It was far removed from what he was used to. Back home, he'd been given prime space in the form of some fancy-ass tower that had been commissioned by the Foundation purposefully for the likes of him. To Alexander, it was yet another testament to the point that science was losing touch with what it was truly meant for. He found greater solace working in the quiet dark of an abandoned building than he did in some sky-scraping glass laboratory. The only merit the Spire had was that it was stocked and fitted with an astonishing range of gear, equipment and facilities normally inaccessible to the common scientific community. Alexander would, sooner or later, have to return. But that would mean facing some banal, petty reporter only keen to get the layman's view on things so as to sell a few copies that would eventually wind up sitting in an abysmal library or newsagents shelves.

He closed his eyes. It took him a lot of his willpower, but he knew it was a necessary evil. Without interest from the public, without backing from the wealthy, science could never advance. So long as people saw prospect in what scientists investigated and researched, then the work could go on. The fact that they were so intrinsically linked to the furthering of Divinian kind irked Alexander, but alas it was far beyond his control. He would have to return to his masters at some point, as much as it pained him.

"Sir, unknown object entering Divinia's atmosphere."

His eyes shot open; Alexander wheeled around on his chair.

"What?" His voice was snappy, almost irritable. It was unexpected, something which apparently annoyed him in one way or another.

"An unknown object has just entered Divinia's atmosphere after being pulled between its two moons. It is currently on a collision course for somewhere in the Superus Ocean."

"So?" It seemed hardly worth taking note of, at least to Alexander. It was probably just a hunk of rock, unfortunately hurtling towards its demise in the great oceans of the world, hurled along after being snagged by the planet's or moons' gravity. "What's so special about it? I told you to look for something out of the ordinary, not a dull meteorite."

Alpha's tone spoke smoothly and calmly, though the news it delivered was anything but to the Border Collie,

"Early satellite scans of the object suggest composite alloys that do not register on the periodic table. It appears to be a craft of some sort, extra-terrestrial in origin and humanoid in appearance." There was a slight pause, as if the A.I. was letting the information sink in, its polygon face mild and unassuming, before it added, "And it appears to have just made a course correction, sir. It is now on a collision course for an area approximately two miles from here."

The blanket encompassing Alexander was dropped and left to sag at his shoulders, only to then drift to the floor. He rose from his chair, paws placed on the desk before him as he began to swipe through screens, tapping at figures and images.

"Check the calculations again, made double sure. I swear to the gods, Alpha, if you're attempting to play a joke on me..."

"You scrubbed the humour subroutines from my software two months and six days ago, sir, after I pretended to have turned into an egomaniacal rogue artificial intelligence hell bent on destroying organic life. I do not joke, sir." He fell silent again. Alexander was checking the workings himself, bringing up the data on the U.F.O., for he might as well be calling it that. Though there had to be some logical explanation, some scientific reasoning that would explain away anything unusual. Perhaps the scans were wrong, faulty somehow, or that they were witnessing a glitch. The object could always be carrying some kind of charge, an electromagnetic field of some sort, which could potentially interfere with scanning equipment. It might just be a lump of space junk that's just glanced through the orbit of Divinia by happenstance. Alexander bit his lip, fingers dancing across keys as he watched the object descend through the sky outside, knowing that it was heading for the Highlands at any moment. Surely it would be visible by now if he were to go outside and look... But something bothered him.

Meteorites don't make course corrections. Either Alpha was severely mistaken, or this was no meteorite.

"Object will impact in less than one minute, sir. I've predicted that it will impact within five hundred yards of your current location."

"What will the blast radius be?" Alexander brushed the fur from his eyes, adrenaline suddenly pumping through his system as the reality began to settle in, "Will I be safe?"

"I'm afraid I cannot be sure, sir. Unknown variables are at play."

The objects dimensions did indeed match with a humanoid figure, as impossible as it seemed. Roughly six feet in height, a few feet wide with a depth of perhaps a foot or so; an object of that scale wouldn't cause much damage to the surrounding area, but then again that depended on its velocity, its composition, and its trajectory... Even where it landed could affect how badly things could get. A forest fire was unlikely - the air in the Highlands was far too muggy and damp to allow such a disaster to happen. Alexander supposed that if the terrain were muddy enough then the impact should be softened, but the velocity was terrifying. Already it had accelerated to well over hundreds of miles per hour, and he had less than a few seconds.

Alexander hit the deck, lurching to the floor as he heard the sounds of something scorching overhead, over the observatory, and off shortly into the distance. The whole building rumbled with the force, dust cascading from the ceiling and the lights flickering. He buried his head in his paws, curled up into as small a ball as he could make to protect anything vital. His heart was racing, mouth dry and bile rising up his throat as he swallowed back the fear. He held firm, waiting for the inevitable crash.

It came with a mighty boom, the sound so loud it left Alexander's ears ringing with the high pitched whine, the dying song of cells in his ears screeching in complaint. Every muscle, every bone, and every fibre of his body felt rattled, shaken and shattered as the vibrations rippled through the surrounding area. Cracks splintered up the walls of the chamber, through the roof. They were tiny, but they looked like peppered veins that darted this way and that in the facility's skin. Lights blinkered, as if they were now struggling to remain lit. The wiring must have been damaged somewhere along the line. Either that, Alexander thought, or something was interfering with the generator on site... But that seemed incredulous.

"Alpha?" He coughed, unsteadily rising up off the floor. Dirt and soot trickled off of him in faint falls, dusting himself down, "Alpha, are you still there?"

Garbled static buzzed through over the speakers. With his hearing impaired, Alexander couldn't even be sure if the little bursts between the crackling white noise were even a semblance of speech. If Alpha was there or not, he wouldn't know. The general computers seemed to be relatively intact, if not a little skewed. It served to prove his interference theory better than damaged wiring; some of the screens images were blurring, splitting and cutting into digital lines of random coding before snapping back. Sometimes symbols the dog didn't even recognise shot between frames, but Alexander couldn't trust himself to be sure. The interference however had to be coming from somewhere... and the only thing new was the recently crashed meteorite that had made a course correction not too long ago - the very same one that was probably sitting a short walk away from him.

Alexander did not trust coincidences. He hated them. They always toyed with him.

"Alpha... if you can hear me, I'm going to be leaving the site to investigate that object. It can't have landed that far away..." He reached for a thermal jacket thrown across the floor, rustling it down for any stray dust that might have fallen on it before he slipped it on, "I won't be long."

No response, not that he expected one to suddenly chime in over the static, but at least the A.I. would be aware of what was going on. The canine zipped up the jacket right up to his chin, shivering as he adjusted to the unusual coldness that would gradually be replaced once more by his own body heat. It mattered little, however. He wouldn't be outside for too long, hopefully. He prayed that it would just turn out to be a lump of useless rock, so that he could go back to brooding in peace.

Traversing the winding corridors was easy for him - he knew the place off by heart like the back of his paw - leading the way outside. Instantly he was met with the horrific freeze that plagued the Highlands so much, starching them in a chilly fog that seemed to roll across the plains like an inescapable monstrosity. For some reason, it had become the charm of the scenery, leading the Highlands to be much of a tourist hotspot for vacationers looking to submit themselves to the inconceivably low temperatures all for a glimpse of muddy fields and rocky ranges. Not many people lived in this part of the world, the ground being too unstable to really build much upon and the remoteness from anywhere else civilised and developed meant that supplies were scarce. But low population density meant less light pollution, which made it perfect for star gazing. It also made it terribly precarious if an unknown object was to crash land in the middle of it and you were all alone. Alexander wouldn't say he was scared, fear was an irrelevant emotion to him, but he was admittedly somewhat nervous. He scanned his surroundings, but it became painfully obvious where the meteorite lay. A burning course had been seared through the treeline, the mist swirling in a vacuum of where something had cut through as it careened past. The smell of damp smoke and heat lingered in the air, an unmistakable sign that led Alexander around the observatory. He was becoming increasingly aware that he was alone out here and stuck in a marshy wilderness, and now faced with the possibility of something he didn't understand blazing just a few yards away. His only method of escape, to return back to civilisation, would be the truck he'd rented when he'd come down here, which sat now idly by in the lot, rusted and neglected, a dying shade of red with its windows muddied, missing two of its rims, and looking rather forlorn in its abandoned new home. It seemed rather fitting to be out here, in the middle of nowhere, even if Alexander hated the thing for its ugliness and smog-churning innards. He dismissed it though. The stupid thing was unreliable and near enough useless in an emergency such as this. He turned around and put his back to it, focusing on the task as he walked around the observatory.

As he rounded the corner of the building, he saw the gorge it had created for itself, the meteorite having carved up the landscape into a deep ditch, earth and rocks dug up and thrown aside to leave a path that led into the forest. Fire burned faintly in the distance, barely a sputtering flame if Alexander had ever seen one, but it marked the location like a beacon, drawing the Border Collie to it. He set off walking down the gorge, footpaws unsure of themselves against the soil and now warm ground, scraping their way along. His paws would shoot out to right himself against fallen trees and errant rocks that jutted from the churned earth as he ventured further and further down the miniature ravine. From wet ash and failing smoke, the air changed its stench to that of something metallic. It was so potent that Alexander could swear it was almost slathered upon his tongue like blood, its zing sharp and unavoidable. He could even feel a charge, though it was only slight, but it felt like static was dancing between the trees. Part of him wondered if he should head back to the safety of the observatory, to wait for the calamity to die down, but something willed him on. Scientific curiosity might be one excuse, but he just had to see what exactly it was... then he could turn back.

The burning glow grew brighter as he drew near, its heat beginning to prickle along Alexander's fur. Mostly the surrounding vegetation smouldered as dwindling flurries of orange ash and cinders whipped about, the cold sapping them into oblivion as they twirled to the ground. Alexander couldn't help but glance about the wreckage, picturing in his mind what might have happened had the trajectory just been off even the slightest bit; the carnage he saw now may very well have been the observatory, with his charred corpse slumped beneath debris forgotten about until authorities would come to investigate. It sent an unsettling tingle down his spine. Life was so delicate, much to his inconvenience.

His gaze however was drawn back to the prize, to the object he'd come here to inspect. At the centre of a rather large crater, soil piled up in a ridge at the furthest side where the impact had gouged into the ground, was something shining white hot, still cooling off from its turbulent descent through the atmosphere. Alexander had to shield his eyes, peeking between digits just to get a decent glimpse at the thing, whatever it might be. There didn't appear to be any distinguishable shape from what he could see, but the glare from the light made it difficult to see anything at all. His tired eyes felt like they would sear if he looked too closely at the mass, if he even dared to determine anything about it. Though it pained him, he might have to return later after he had allowed it to sit in the frozen night for a while.

Alexander sighed - so much for scientific curiosity and agency, he rued to himself. He made to turn back, only to hear the ground behind him shift. Rocks and dirt filtered to the ruptured forest floor, as if something were rising from it. Looking back over his shoulder, he was startled by what he saw, if only out of the corner of his eye.

The object, still burning bright, had risen to a standing position.

Still he could make nothing out about it, forced to keep his paw raised to shadow his brow and prevent himself from doing any serious damage to his sight, but he was certain that the thing had moved. It was impossible for any meteorite or satellite to do such a thing, which therefore left Alexander with far more questions than answers.

He turned back around, to face the unidentified phenomenon, and tried squinting to better see what it was. Through the glaring light and bitter smoke that filled the woods with a haze, Alexander, if only for a moment, swore he could make out a figure behind it all, somewhere within the blur of intensity. He stepped closer, edging just a bit further into the crater for that tiniest improvement on his vision, mumbling as he did so,

"What the..."

Alpha had been right, the object was humanoid. But if it had moved, that suggested it was alive or perhaps operational, whatever it might be. It had reacted to his presence...

Before Alexander even had the chance to react, the hot mass shot forward, lunging at him with vicious speed that sent him flying backwards. He sailed through the air in a wide arc as burning light enveloped everything. He went to scream, to shout out, but his voice was cut out. Something clamped around his muzzle, burrowing into the flesh.

He slammed into a nearby tree and smacked his head against the bark. Undoubtedly he'd have a concussion, his mind addled in blinding pain, but refusing to dull the sense of something eating into him, digging into his body by every orifice and exposed part of him possible. Sharp needles stabbed. Veins were drained and then flooded. He could feel bones cracking and reshaping. Pain blossomed like a sadistic flower, flushing through his system until he could physically take no more. He gurgled moans of a final protest were muffled as something clawed down his throat, then suffocated him as it filled his lungs.

Alexander passed out before the true pain set in, as every organ in his body began to fail and die.

~ ~ ~

"Sir..."

Something was wrong.

Alexander felt weightless, drowsy with fatigue that plagued his every bone like some kind of pestilence. No matter how desperately he tried to shake the feeling, the sluggishness seemed inescapable, for it would creep in under his skin. He dared not to open his eyes, fearing he'd look upon his ruined body ripped open from the inside. For now he was content with the void he let himself drift in, his senses consumed by the apparent nothingness which cushioned him from what had to be a nightmarish reality. Perhaps it had been a dream, that surviving the impact was some momentary respite that had run its course, a mild mental anaesthetic only to have now faded away to reveal the truth of his predicament. Frankly, Alexander would rather be dead if it were real.

"Sir, I have re-established communications. Are you there? Visual live feeds are non-operational."

How droll Alpha's voice sounded... Alexander had pondered over it for hours how best to set the damn thing up. Artificial intelligence was one thing, to make it adaptive to all the idioms and petty complications of organic interactions, but to give it an interface that didn't immediately aggravate the user was a different matter. It was easy for him to sound arrogant and patronising, for he had no concept of boundaries or how he might insult someone for assuming factual knowledge. He didn't just believe he was smarter than most people, he knew he was. His only equal, in his programmed eyes, was Alexander himself for creating him. Interactions then with anybody else could leave them hostile and fraught to the idea of a cyber-genius being better than them. Therefore his face was toned down; his voice left calming and passive to reduce the risk of antagonising anyone. Through test runs, even if people didn't like Alpha, they were at least amenable to the future concept of a larger scale project. They felt reassured by him.

"Sir, am I detecting a heat signature in the Outpost, shall I presume then that you are indeed alive and just ignoring me?"

"Al... far..." Alexander slurred, irked that his digital companion was pestering him, "Shhh..." He couldn't formulate the syllables to complete the sentence. His head merely rolled to the side, muzzle tapping against cold concrete.

Though his eyelids felt like lead, the Border Collie did all that he could to open them, with much difficulty. But concrete... he was inside! How, he knew not, but he was back inside. It gave him the willpower to rouse the rest of his body awake, struggling like a drugged patient to get out of bed after an operation, but alas no nurse was there to stop him. Alexander doggedly got to his footpaws, the world swaying in a dizzying and nauseous whirl as his head pounded with an incredible migraine. It felt as if his chest might explode at any moment, the pain throbbing beneath his ribcage as he staggered about, arms folded across his torso to cup his broken body.

"Sir, is that you?"

"Shut... up..." Alexander managed to wheeze, paw shooting out to slam against a wall, leaning his weight against it as he sucked in ragged breaths. It was a slow process, how long it took seemed to stretch on forever, but gradually the dog felt his body soothe the agony until it was bearable. Though it still surged across every nerve, it felt like, it was at least tolerable to the point that he could walk around, talk, and have some sort of coherent thought.

"Sir, are you alright?"

"M'fine, Alph..." He struggled to form the words, his tongue feeling almost numb as it sat like a fat slug in his mouth, slow and lazy. An overwhelming taste of metal seemed to coat the entirety of his muzzle, making every swallow of bile taste horrific and disgusting. His mind was clearing at the very least, for which he was thankful, but the events of last night were burnt into his memory. Grim realisation seemed not to instead strike him as one might expect, but it settled like the fog that clouded the lands about him, covering every thought and feeling with an inexhaustible sense of dread. What had happened to him? Was the meteorite still there now? Was whatever had... attacked him, for he knew not what else to think of it, still there just waiting?

"I request that you repair the visual feeds, sir, so that I may better assess your situation."

"Later, Alpha... I'll be back..."

Alexander righted himself as best he could, still feeling quite nauseous, but otherwise fine aside from the pounding headache thundering behind his forehead. A paw stroked the side of his scalp as he made his way back outside, staggering from wall to wall with only the keen desire to see what was outside. He no longer felt familiar in the surroundings, almost losing his way twice as he attempted to leave the complex. But sure enough, he stumbled out into daylight, his paw shooting up to blot out the glaring sun as he tottered into the open.

What he first saw startled him. As his eyes adjusted, he lowered his paw and dropped his jaw, mouth gawping at the sight that lay before him.

Where his truck had once stood was nothing more than a chassis. All across the concrete lot were individual parts to a car. Alexander wandered amongst the many divided portions, all laid out neatly and systematically as if some gremlin had come along in the night and not simply torn but instead dissected the car piece by piece. The dog felt oddly sick as he just stared at the ordered mess, unable to speak as it absolutely baffled him as to who could have done such a thing. It would have been near enough impossible for a single person to have taken an entire truck apart, but it seemed equally ridiculous that a group of hooligans would. It went too far to be a practical joke. It bordered upon the surreal and the creepy. But as Alexander looked about him, he could not deny the fact that someone had been and committed the act, though the question of who remained a mystery. One more chilling fact became slowly more obvious to him however, one which made the questions all the more absurd; nothing was missing. Every part, though spread out and separated as they are, was accounted for. Nothing had been taken, nothing stolen, nothing broken or missing. Whoever had done the deed was apparently not looking to take anything. Either they were interested in only being a nuisance, sabotaging Alexander's only mode of transport and leaving him temporarily stranded out in the Highlands, or they hadn't found whatever it was they were so eager to get.

As much as it pained him though, he didn't have time to dawdle on the 'who', 'what' and 'why' of his mechanic mystery. More pressing matters were taking place and the truck incident would just have to wait.

He turned his attention to scanning the area, looking for scenes of the impact. The fires had long since died out, just as he had suspected, but the carnage was still left behind. Alexander rushed back around to the gorge, hastily making the way down the gouge in the earth to where the object must have been. Danger didn't seem to be his first thought, and thankfully he was lucky that it wasn't, as when he reached the point of impact, there was nothing to be seen.

Only a small, still smouldering crater was left, its centre blackened by what must have been the meteorite itself, but it was ominously empty. Had a camper or hiker come along and swiped it, deeming it some tacky souvenir, or had authorities come far sooner than expected? Alexander couldn't have been sure, but the lack of any presence of what had struck him made him uneasy. His brow furrowed as he tried to recall the exact details of last night. It had been far too real to just be a dream or even a hallucination. Something had risen from the crash, and that something had attacked him. But where it was now would be a mystery.

Alexander had an unsettling feeling in the back of his mind, swamped right now in the midst of a chronic migraine which appeared to be trying to split his brain in two. It throbbed and pounded endlessly and didn't seem to be abating. If anything, it was growing worse, until a quiet ringing pitched up inside the Border Collie's ear. He tried to swat it away, to pop his drum, but to no avail. It grew louder and louder, as his headache pulsed mercilessly, both increasing until it felt like glass was grating just behind his eyes and the howls of some damned creature was roaring right in his face. Alexander clutched his head, gasping in pain, falling to one knee with his face scrunched up in utter agony, having never felt anything quite so excruciating before.

"Don't fight it. Let me in."

"WHAT?!" Alexander yelled at the unseen voice, a smooth feminine tone rising above the piercing pain that wracked his skull. He whirled up, snarling, as he looked behind him.

"Whoa!" A startled exclamation, accented nothing how the woman's voice had sounded. This was a man, and a fairly local one at that, "Don't snap at me, eh. Am here ta help, if ya don't mind."

It was some badger, nobody important - a police officer, and most certainly male. Alexander's face softened, the pain thankfully dulling as he found something to focus on. His vision became clearer and the sharp screech now seemed like a forgotten echo. The man was perhaps only so tall, distinctly stout if the dog wasn't being too offensive, with somewhat of a gut. He was grey around the edges of his muzzle, tired wrinkles on his eyes and a grumpy sneer on his lips. Perhaps Alexander shouldn't have snapped at him, even if he wasn't the one who'd spoken.

"I'm sorry, you caught me off guard." This was why the canine didn't like associating with others like this. He was always treading on people's toes. It was a minefield of social conventions and politeness strategies. It was tiresome. "How can I help you, officer?"

"Help me, eh?" That amused him somehow, "You're the one who looks like he's in need of help, lad."

"That's professor, if you don't mind." Alexander coldly spoke, "and I don't see how I'd need help. As you can see, I'm unharmed and not being pestered by criminals."

"You mind explaining this here burnt mess then?" A fat paw was waved across the charred forest, the impact site. Alexander wasn't entirely unharmed... but he had no proof he was attacked. Would an aged badger believe his story if he told him he was assaulted by a meteorite only to wake up later with no recollection of what followed?

"A meteorite fell into Divinia's atmosphere." Best to dumb it down, the man was old, and therefore most likely slow, "A space rock hit Divinia." To be positioned out here, in the middle of nowhere, must mean he didn't hold much weight at his station. Maybe he was close to retirement. But, naturally, the old fur didn't take kindly to being spoken down to. Alexander would have rolled his eyes had he not found out earlier in his life that people didn't like that either,

"I know what a darn meteor is, lad."

"Meteorite," The dog corrected, rewarding him with an exasperated snort from the badger.

"Is there a difference?" One paw on the hip, another reaching for the badge on his breast; Alexander was annoying him. He probably wouldn't want to piss off the authorities, regardless of whether he'd done anything wrong. They could arrest him for not reporting the crash sooner, or some technicality. He was sure for as old as the man might be, he wasn't above cooking up some excuse just to detain him for twenty-four hours in a cold cell. Alexander bit his tongue,

"I suppose not..."

The badger stepped his way down into the gouge in the earth, where the meteorite had struck. He spoke into his radio, mumbled words Alexander couldn't quite pick up. At least, he didn't think he could, until a short burst in his ear made him yelp. The officer glanced behind him, but when he saw that nothing was wrong, he carried on yapping to whoever was on the other line. Only now, Alexander could hear every word distinctly.

"Am at the site now, the one where them reports came in of the shooting star hitting the woods..."_Alexander couldn't hear the reply, but he marvelled at the improved sense of sound. He waggled a finger in his ear. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. _"Nothing's here, only guy around is that freak doctor who came by however long ago, spouting how he didn't want to be disturbed but wanted us to 'be aware of his presence'." Alexander didn't like the man's tone, but he could hardly interrupt with indignation. He wasn't even supposed to be hearing this. "The rock must've burnt up or something or some hiker took it. Who cares? It's just a lump o' dirt. One thing though... the nut-job has completely taken apart his truck. I know the guy was quirky but I didn't think he'd be..." He trailed off, his gaze catching that of Alexander's. They shared a peculiar moment in that fleeting glance. "Fuckin' psycho... But Rachel, do we really need a statement? It's just a meteor, nobody gives two shits. I don't want him ridin' besides me." The officer shifted away a couple of steps, hissing into his radio. What started was an argument between himself and this 'Rachel', on the other end, some nasty debate about how the man, Larry apparently, didn't want to give Alexander a ride back to the station. Alexander didn't want to go with him either. But perhaps Rachel was the woman Alexander had heard. Maybe she was back in the cruiser? It seemed unlikely, but Alexander couldn't see how else he'd have heard a female voice out here. "Fine! But you can fuckin' interview him. He rubs me the wrong way, eh. What's that?" A pause. "Old Carson's? Why, what's up with him now?"_Another pause, only this time, Larry let out a haunted gasp, _"You're shittin' me! Who the fuck... No, it can't have been him, if his truck's all dismantled and shit. Besides, as much as he's a weirdo, I don't think he'd do that... Alright, I'll drop by and take a look around, it'll have to be on my way back though. Over and out, Rachel."

The badger turned to Alexander, who had to cough and pretend like he hadn't heard a word of their whole conversation,

"Look, mister..." The dog's expression soured, the officer tutting to himself, "Fine, _professor_whoever-you-are... I need you to come with me."

"Why?" He already knew the answer, but Alexander knew it would not only look weird but incredibly suspicious of him to correctly second guess the man.

"I need to take a statement," he declared, mumbling only after, under his breath though quite indiscreetly, "...or something." His body language made it very apparent that he did not wish to have the Border Collie join him, but the situation did look frankly bizarre, and Alexander was inclined to agree. Perhaps the officials back at their station may offer a tiny glimpse into what really happened, though he gravely doubted they would know any more than he.

"Very well..."

As they walked back around the side of the building, Alexander was confronted once again with his dismantled truck, still left in its immaculate state. The badger gave a brusque nod in its direction,

"You do that?" Alexander shook his head, informing the officer he'd simply found it that way when he'd woken up. "Right..." the man drawled, though whether it was disbelief that Alexander was telling the truth or sheer bewilderment that someone would have done such a thing in any case, "Well I hope you know how to put it back together again."

"Not precisely... I'm more acquainted with quantum mechanics than... actual mechanics. But an internal combustion engine is only a small challenge, shouldn't be too hard, right?" He didn't get a verbal response, or even a huffed grunt. Instead all Larry seemed to do was stare at him, like he'd just suggested he eat his own excrement whilst he screwed his own mother. It passed, but not after a brief, unpleasantly tense moment of silence that even the sounds of the highlands around them didn't dare to break. Eventually he just broke away, a shake of his head from amazed exasperation, before he clambered into his own truck, the door slamming shut without even an invitation to join. Alexander sighed, casting one last forlorn look at his sanctuary and the remains of his transport - what choice did he have? The police would be next to useless in trying to discern what the meteorite was, if it was indeed a living being, and the only way Alexander could track it would be to return back to Victory City and go to his lab to see if he couldn't glean anything from Alpha's records. He'd give the locals some cheap, run-of-the-mill story which if he dressed up enough with glamorous scientific nonsense they may just believe and leave well enough alone, whilst he could figure out what was going on.

Alexander climbed up into the cabin of the patrol truck, the smell of chewing tobacco pungent in the confined space. The seats' fabric had been worn down until it felt like he was sitting upon the metal skeleton hidden within itself, rather than anything comfy. The dashboard was speckled with coffee stains and crumbs, a dried up and withering air freshener dangling from the car's rear-view mirror, and radio that jutted out from where the truck's music player might have been before it was refitted all made for what the dog had expected from the badger: rudimentary, unappealing, and disinteresting. As he sat there whilst the truck's engine snarled into life, revving up clouds of smoke, he could only think of the innumerable ways in which to improve its design. Naturally the first things to go would be everything outdated, which already accounted for practically each item in the truck, but the chairs and radio would be his first ports of call. Why the force didn't just switch to wireless communications and relied upon the digital age like the rest of the world, he didn't know. Alexander cringed as the officer called in a brief report of what he was doing to whomever was at the helm back at the station, the crackle of the handheld making the dog wince, almost as much as he flinched when he heard the garbled, unintelligible reply back. How the badger even knew what was said, was beyond him, but the noise was piercingly sharp to his ears. It didn't go amiss to the old male,

"What's the matter? Good old fashioned technology not to your liking?" It seemed to amuse Larry to no end that something was irritating Alexander. He could see it in his smug face, the muzzle twisted in a happy smile tainted with arrogance. Maybe it was an achievement to him to be superior to the weird dog in some way, but how was he to know? Alexander wasn't trying to aggravate or provoke him, but then again his mind was slower, addled by age, and he would take a victory from someone who probably intimidated him. He really didn't care, many people ended up trying to best him anyway, Alexander had grown weary of such interactions,

"Not particularly," he answered sourly, looking out the other window, "Sensitive hearing more like."

"Uh-huh..." It sounded gleeful, obviously disbelieving what he said, but Alexander didn't take it any further than that. He didn't try to make small talk with the badger as not only was he sure the man would just find ways to try and undermine him, but he didn't much see the point in 'chatting'. They were redundant fillers of silence, conversation that ambled and went nowhere. Alexander did not like just 'chatting' with people. He wanted facts and he wanted to get to the point.

The truck trundled along the winding, rocky lane that trailed its way through the bleak highlands. Barren hills and browning fields of crags and resilient growth sprawled on for as far as Alexander could see, knowing that beyond them the land would stretch out on and on until it came to the stormy coast. The rugged beauty wasn't entirely lost on him; Alexander had no care for the shades of the land or for the savage life that thrived upon it, but rather for its simplicity. Only the strongest could survive in the unforgiving landscape, and few bothered to come this far unless they were here for the view; in which case they kept well away from the darker corners of the highlands, sticking to the prettier picturesque locales rather than attempt to delve into its woods. Alexander had visited the place as a child when he could, admiring the fact that there were few ways into the plains and few ways out, not unless one came prepared. It was, in its own sense, a quiet reprieve to him - whatever had attacked him could not go far without leaving a trace somewhere. It would resurface eventually.

"I need to stop off somewhere along the way," the badger announced, not taking his eyes off the lane, "Just to call in on someone." That would be Old Carson. Alexander noted the officer didn't bother asking if that was alright. He understood he probably had little choice in the matter, but he could at least attempt civility, especially if he was someone who was supposed to deal with the public on a daily basis, maintaining professionalism.

"Okay."

Old Carson, as it transpired, was a local farmer, who cultivated a livestock of a hardy breed of sheep. The feral kind, Alexander noted with some disdain. With the current advancements in technology, the need for such animals was becoming obsolete - they were slowly becoming nothing more than filthy and expensive rural pets. Clothing companies typically used new artificial fibres that the foundation had invested in, fibres which were far stronger, less likely to burn, double the capacity to retain heat or insulate against it, and cheaper to manufacture than sheering the wool from animals that spent most of their days out in insect-riddled fields and festering close to both their own food and their own faeces. It was such a nasty method of rearing, Alexander thought. He had little desire to get out of the truck when they pulled up to the rickety farmhouse, situated just at the end of a gated off path. He peered out the window as the badger excused himself, sidling out of the cabin and slamming the door shut.

The property itself blended well with the landscape; the dreary, shabby exterior of the building, unkempt as it was, matched the backdrop of ragged auburn pastures. It was crafted entirely from timber, the frame warped here or there perhaps with the paint peeling away from the harsh winds that must have whipped flecks free over the years. Some windows appeared to have been boarded up, probably a result from broken panes that just couldn't be replaced. Alexander could only imagine how cold it may be inside, how unforgiving and tired it might be. Sure, he may choose to stay in a frozen observatory in his free time, but it wasn't a home for him. It was a waypoint for when he needed it, it wasn't some place he wished to reside, to tell people about, to have as a place to live. The dog wasn't even sure if Old Carson had any family or other close relatives, though he sincerely doubted it. As he emerged from his home, face drawn with horrific trauma and posture shaken, Alexander judged him to be a lonely man, an aged looking beaver missing one of his buck teeth. But his expression intrigued him. Officer Larry must have been called out for a reason, but he hadn't specified what exactly over the radio. As he watched the two men close the distance between one another on the gritted yard, an animated conversation started up between them, though it would have appeared that Carson was the more agitated of the two, whilst the badger spent most of his time trying to calm the beaver down.

Alexander wished he could have heard what was going on, but to get out now and intrude would once again only work against his favour at this point.

His gaze drifted over the radio sitting just before him. Larry carried a portable one strapped to his shoulder, did he not? Alexander wasn't entirely familiar with the archaic technology, but he knew enough about it to realise there was some trick he could pull. But his head still ached from waking up unceremoniously after his attack, and he was in no mood to try and tamper with government gear if he wasn't prepared to deal with the backlash. They would only get prissy with him and suspect him of something, even throw him in a cell for a day under charges of destruction to civil property. That he could certainly do without.

But a sharp hiss of static followed by a smooth, feminine voice rang right into his ear, a single word spoke: 'connected'. Alexander flinched and looked around the inside of the truck. Was that Rachel again? It couldn't have seemed so, but yet it was the same person from before. Maybe Alexander had underestimated the capacity of the police force and their equipment, but that seemed highly unlikely.

Yet again, however, he was able to pick up and listen clearly to Larry speaking, his conversation clear in his head as if he were right there, Carson's voice picking up too alongside his. Whilst Alexander was just as curious as to why he could hear them, he was more intrigued by their discussion,

"It fucking cut a hole right into the place!" It was Carson, or so the canine assumed. The accent was far heavier than the badger's, rattling and gruff, "It ain't no fucking predator that done that!"

"Alright, calm down, now where do you say they entered the pen?" That was Larry, trying to dissuade the beaver from doing anything rash. He was still acting rather erratic, limbs flailing in all directions, eyes wide and fearful. If Alexander had to assume anything, it would be that this Carson fellow didn't seem like the type to be spooked easily... given the rural setting, the isolated living conditions, his age and manner of speaking, he wasn't someone who would lay down without a fight, considering how he squared up to the badger right in his face, demanding something to be done about his peculiar problem, whatever it was.

"In through the fucking roof, fucking cut it away, and you need to see what it did, whatever the fuck it was. You need to go and see."

It was at this point that Larry agreed and relented to the beaver's pestering, hurriedly scurrying around his property to where Alexander could no longer see them from out the truck's grubby windows. The badger followed in tow, a sigh whistling through on the radio. Mumbled words came through to the dog, but nothing audible. That suggested Alexander was only hearing through the radio, which begged the question how had he unwittingly managed to make some kind of one-way connection?

"Officer?" He tested. No response, so definitely only he could hear them. As he watched the last sight of Larry disappear behind the farmhouse, he turned his eyes back to the radio. What he saw though spooked him.

The dial, typically reading which frequency it was picking up, no longer registered a number. Its display was lit up with an eerie blue that seemed to pulse ominously, as if it were alive. Alexander watched it, marvelled and transfixed at what was happening. Was this something that had affected his car too? It seemed improbable, but then who had dismantled his vehicle overnight in such a meticulous fashion. The strange light didn't falter, didn't blink or waver, merely ebb like a lighthouse, its timing impeccable for each flush of blue. How could a light have done anything like that to a truck, if it were indeed somehow responsible?

"See?!" Carson's frightened, indignant snap caught Alexander's attention again, "Look at what it did; it's fucking murder, that's what it is. Some psycho fucking slaughtered them all."

There was a gasp of horror, followed by retching,

"By the fuckin' gods..." Larry had never sounded so mortified. It took only a second to realise that his gags were real, not forced or slight, but a true reaction of revulsion and disgust, "What the fuckin' hell?!"

"All my sheep, fucking slaughtered by some... some THING!"

"It's fucking drilled a hole... like you... what the serious fuck?!" They were both sounding terrified, even Larry seemed distraught. He was beginning to babble to himself, clearly not adept to handle the situation. By now, Alexander was beyond just curious as to what was going on, for an officer of the law to be this disturbed by something would have to be staggeringly awful, unless of course it was something a local guy just wasn't used to seeing in his parts. Gruesome as it sounded over the radio, Alexander had to see what was going on. As he let himself out of the truck, he could hear Larry frantically relating everything back to Rachel, hysterically trying to get across the gravity of the scene to her, asking for somebody to get out here as soon as possible with plenty of cusses thrown in there to emphasise his distress. As Alexander began to head towards the farmhouse, he could hear his demands for somebody at a federal level to come and take a look. Rapidly his frustration and terror was getting the better of him, his breath rushed and wheezing. Alexander could hear him now, their shouts echoing through the still air around the building.

Alexander tentatively wandered around, though his presence there was much ignored. Carson seemed to be more consumed with trying to get the badger to do something, trying to get some kind of positive, active response to the tragedy at paw. In a way, he felt sorry for Larry, whose expression now just looked equally as sickened as Carson's had when he burst out of his home. He was trembling all over, eyes vacant and scared. As he saw the Border Collie approaching, the badger set upon him in a heated, panicked fervour,

"You!" He yelled, grasping at Alexander's lapel, "You're a scientist, right?! You know about weird shit, surely?" It seemed like he was grasping at straws, but he shoved the dog in the direction of what looked to be a rundown pen, a roof covering the vast open space. There was even a moment to protest or refuse, or even to explain that he was just a theorist, if anything, that he wasn't typically accustomed to the applied side of things. Alexander wasn't about to turn down the opportunity to investigate however, as he was by now perplexed as to what was going on, but he wasn't sure what good he could be.

He edged towards the side of the pen, the wooden fencing high up to his midriff, so the interior was somewhat obscured in the darkness. The first thing that raised his fears though was the stench of blood. Through his years of college and university, it was something he'd known to recognise. It was foul and sticky, as if it had long since dried and left to seep into the surrounding area. It permeated the air with a vile odour, which only grew stronger as he stepped up to the side. Alexander had to cover his nose as he came closer, as soon it became almost all he could smell.

By the side of the fencing was a cut-out partition, a trough filled with what should have been water for what Alexander assumed to be the livestock to drink. But instead the metal vessel was filled with red-tinted water, swelling in the breeze, blood dripping from the wooden panels into it. It raised Alexander's alarms immediately, bracing himself for the worst as he finally plucked up the courage to peer over into the pen.

He first saw what Carson had been taking about in regards to the roof; as Alexander looked up, he saw a perfect circle cut from the shelter's roof, the entire thing cut away, beams, rafters and all. It was left in a pile where it had dropped straight down, suggesting it had all been cut in one swiftly, the edges of both the wreckage and the somehow still standing roof charred. Something had burnt through to gain access to what would have necessarily been an open area, which Alexander couldn't understand. It made no sense.

Casting his eyes down, he finally saw what had repulsed the men so much that they were acting irate and petrified. The flock of sheep, or rather what was left of them, was left splayed out all across the floor of pen, each animal spliced open and its bones and organs left laid out and apart. All were neatly arranged around every carcass, the skin acting as some kind of mat whilst the bones were kept close to their original structure. The flesh then surrounded that, fitted where it may, as if whoever had butchered these animals had tried to somehow put them back together in a morbid, gory art form, and all around buzzed a cacophony of flies that zeroed on the exposed meat, forming a mild cloud of bugs that would have long since contaminated the entire scene. Alexander wasn't necessarily about to lose his stomach over it, but it was somewhat disturbing. But his mind made a far darker connection as he wandered in through the open gate to crouch down and examine the closest corpse, scouring it for any curious details. It would have to be something he'd keep from the police, in order to not incriminate himself in any way, but it left him with a cold feeling in the pit of his gut. His mouth ran dry as he tried to fathom what had done this.

"What the actual fuck, who would do such a thing?" Alexander didn't know which of them had asked it, but he didn't answer, swallowing back the lump in his throat.

The sheep weren't simply just killed or slaughtered. They had been dissected. Whatever had done this had done it so as to learn about the anatomy of the biological creatures it had come across, with the capability of burning through rafters and wooden panels to get to them. It was something that was trying to learn, as if it wasn't of this planet - an extra-terrestrial.

Though Officer Larry might not have made the connection yet, Alexander feared him coming to the realisation that something linked the Border Collie to Carson's livestock. The dog's truck, much like the sheep, hadn't simply been taken apart, but it too was dissected and left out in an intricate array as if being examined. This creature, this being, it wasn't just interested in the living creatures, but also the technology.

Alexander didn't even stay in the highlands long enough to give his statement. He was boarding a plane for Victory City long before they'd realised he'd slipped away.

~ ~ ~

The trip had been uneventful; thankfully, save for the migraine that refused to desist despite the concoction of drugs Alexander was taking to even just soothe the aching pain, he had touched down just a few short hours later back on his home soil. Fortunately with funds at his disposal and little luggage with him, finding a flight at short notice didn't take too much effort. As soon as the foundation had caught wind though that he was returning, they took every measure to try and get in touch with him, something he found to be incredibly cloying. He had only just narrowly avoided the man sent to take him directly from the airport to whoever had summoned him, and thankfully had procured a taxi that wasn't already in on the little game the board were deciding to play with him.

As he paid the taxi his fare, he could already feel eyes prickling on him, fellow staff on site already recognising him. He paid them no heed though. He had to get to his lab and shut himself away before anyone had a chance to intercept him and distract him or worse still, scold him for his absence.

He turned around to look up at the building that had been constructed simply for his purposes: the Fulcrum, a facility that stood proudly out against the Victory City skyline. It boasted over ninety storeys and many more floors thanks to the basement levels for an expansive working space for many scientists and equipment. However, since Alexander had shot up in the foundation's favour after his compelling advancements in artificial intelligence and the application of dumbed down programs to domesticated products, they'd since given over control of the building to him, allowing him to decide and allocate space and gear where he felt it was needed. Naturally the brunt of everything had been put towards developing Alpha's first core test run, and the rest fizzled away on making sure nobody else could interfere or tamper with his work. The building had become quiet and desolate, maintained simply because Alexander wanted it to be a sign to others not to try and challenge him, but also because it stuck in the foundation's craw that they could do little about it. There were many in the community who resented him, but he was committed to the worthwhile progress of science, not to their wild chases on fruitless endeavours. Part of him felt he ought to be more lenient, but there were plenty of other institutes they could work at. Alexander only accepted the very best to work at his facility.

Sadly though, the very best only included himself, for the time being, and a select number of menial staff for janitorial work, security, and office labour.

He wondered, if only for a moment, if the building was aesthetically pleasing. It was cutting edge design, a spire of glass and metal that rose up from marble foundations to a point high in the sky, at the top floor where most of Alpha's servers and essentials were. Fire safety accounted for; the whole top ten floors could be evacuated of air via pumps all the way down in the basement, suffocating any blazes that happened to break out. The Fulcrum even had its own terminal for the city's monorail, which ran just around its base and lead off into the streets, winding around to connect up everywhere else. It wasn't a private line, since the Fulcrum was situated at an ideal spot in the city, so it was regularly frequented by commuters which paid towards some of the tower's upkeep. Even if the commotion was a nuisance at rush hour, it was a pleasing sight to see sleek, modern carriages slipping effortlessly into the hub, a feat of magnet engineering, just showing Alexander that something could be both functional and purposeful whilst maintaining beauty.

Using the flurry of people milling about from the station, he made his entrance to the building, hoping to avoid at least the majority of anyone waiting for his arrival. His time away had most likely just annoyed them, considering the amount of publicity and pandering to the media they wanted him to do. He hoped that representative from that publication hadn't caught wind of his landing back in town, though he hoped it was unlikely. They had a nose for this sort of thing, being able to rush to the scene in an instant, not wasting a single moment, especially to get their 'exclusive' and 'in-depth' interview with him. Already Alexander felt like turning back and heading to the sanctuary once more, were it not for his reasons to return compelling him to bear it all with gritted teeth. It was just what he was expecting, someone from the foundation just to grab his arm and drag him off to sit in a stuffy room under bright lights for up to an hour trying to explain to a simpleton the complexities of his research. It would be like trying to get an apple to understand what the concept of gravity was, to know how time worked, how space distorted it, and anything else that was possibly within the realm of being filtered down to layman's terms.

Glass doors slid open into the cool air-conditioned lobby of his tower, Alexander briskly walking across the pristine white room for the elevator at the other end. He spotted his receptionist sat at her desk, on the phone to someone but with clear eye contact on him - most likely informing someone that he'd arrived, giving them the heads-up as to where he's going. Inside, in a seething ball, he wondered just what exactly she was saying, wishing he could just waltz over himself and snatch the receiver from her paw, only to slam it in its holster.

Once again, Alexander heard the female voice whisper into his ear, as if she were standing right over his shoulder,

"Connected."

It startled the Border Collie, who whirled around on the spot to locate the source. Nobody was standing within any conceivable distance of him, the doors slipping shut behind him and the lobby empty besides those waiting at the front desk. It was impossible for anyone to have rushed up to him and spoken in his ear only to then run off into nothingness. But it was the same woman from before... it was uncannily similar. It therefore couldn't be Rachel, nor could it be Alexander's imagination, unless of course he was just going mad... That was certainly a possibility, though an unwelcome one. It would explain his chronic headaches.

"He's just come in now, sir... Mister Cain is waiting with me now, but he... He's just standing there, looking confused, kinda spooked if you ask me... I don't know... He's looking right at me, like he's concentrating... like he can hear me. Yeah, I know it's weird... Oh god, that's so freaky."

Alexander had to shake his head, avert his eyes away from the young girl; he'd heard her conversation on the phone, and she's recognised he was listening, it was beyond bizarre, and it only made matters worse because it could just be a symptom of paranoia, that he was now deluding himself into thinking that not only he could hear other people's conversations, but they were all talking about him. He could feel nasty prickles bubbling under his skin, a nauseous sickness trying to bleed its way through, coursing along every vein and artery. The headaches were growing stronger, less easy to just ignore, like he was losing control.

But that name... Cain... It sounded familiar. Alexander looked up, wiping his brow; a rather large and friendly looking bull was sat with one leg crossed over the other at the waiting area, absently scrolling through a tablet he held in one paw. He had glanced up when he'd seen Alexander enter, but other than that had remained seated. Dressed immaculately, he looked more like an accountant or an executive than what the Border Collie had expected him to be.

"Bruno Cain, I presume?" He called out, across the lobby, starting up in a stride towards the man. The bull looked up, flashed the dog a polite smile, and closed the binder to his tablet, lifting himself up off the sofa,

"Professor Viking, an unexpected pleasure to see you back home!" The large male extended a paw to greet the dog, though it went dismissed. Slowly he lowered it as Alexander squared up to him. Intimidation quickly went out the window once the dog realised he was probably a foot shorter than the man, but he was determined to have him off his property,

"You've been waiting here all this time for me to come back for your little sit-down?"

"Not at all," Bruno smirked, jutting his head in the direction of the Siamese behind the front desk, "That lovely young lady over there very kindly tipped me off that rumours were milling about your return. I don't take chances when it comes to the scoop of a lifetime." Though she wasn't part of the conversation - or rather the confrontation, for Alexander - she still blushed,

"He's talking with Mister Cain... Of course it's not going well."

"Coercing my staff to divulge private information is a serious offence. I don't see why I should give you the time of day if you're going to meddle with my affairs." Alexander couldn't control the venom behind his tone, but his frustration was steadily rising. Between the pain in his head, the waves of nausea building in his gut, the quipped tone of his receptionist in his ear somehow and now Bruno Cain, the journalist he'd least wanted to see right now, he was a fraught mess.

"It's hardly that serious. She and I are good friends, you might say." He smiled once more, infuriating for the dog, as again he heard a soft peep from the young cat,

"I think I might lose my job..." Alexander was already in the decision that she'd be done by the end of the day. He couldn't risk a single leak, especially to people like Cain, who only continued to act cool and collected whilst Alexander was boiling inside,

"Besides, the Meredith Foundation and yourself included promised The Inquiry an exclusive look at your current research into artificial intelligence."

"They're just talking about that interview... He's not said anything ye-"

"Jane, will you please just hang up the phone!" Alexander snapped, finally, hissing to the young receptionist who very nearly dropped the set from her paws. She was across the room though, practically out of earshot, and immediately the canine already knew that he'd just revealed he'd heard the whole thing, though it should have been impossible for him to do so. Obediently she did indeed put the phone back down, but with a shaking paw as he'd stunned her with his ferocity.

"Was that necessary?" Bruno asked, calmly, like he was the lord of ethics.

"Is it any of your concern?" Alexander clipped back, trying to breathe in a measured fashion and not let himself escalate again, although his brain was fogged with dulling pain that only throbbed harder and harder. Bruno's expression soured, if only slightly,

"Of all the things I know about you, Professor Viking, least of all did I think you were a cruel man. Arrogant, sure, rude, perhaps, but vicious? Everyone always holds you in high regard as at least being civil with those around you."

"Maybe then you should write about that." Alexander's gaze was cold, though he was focused more on trying not to vomit there and then as his body seemed to be rejecting every part of itself.

"Maybe I will."

With that, the bull left, turning around quietly and walking over to the feline and talking in a hushed tone. Alexander watched them for a moment, his gaze levelled as the two exchanged some parting words, before Bruno finally went for the exit to the terminal. The dog really didn't have time for this. A publicity scandal was the least of his worries, considering the circumstances. The Meredith Foundation executives would handle damage control, mopping up the mess he'd just created, as after all he was one of their best minds and they couldn't afford to lose him. Though it would mean he'd be indebted to them, in which case he'd have to suffer some other journalist keen to get the inside story on what was going on with Alpha. Alexander sighed; the day was getting worse and worse.

Silently he boarded the lift, slamming his fist against the button for the top floor. As the doors closed shut, he buried his face in his paws, groaning into them as he tried to sort through the information. Some kind of creature had attacked him last night. Logic would suggest that the same creature, if it is to be dubbed an alien lifeform, has now gone on to begun accumulating knowledge both technological and organic. However, why then had the creature not done the same to Alexander? Why was he still left standing yet his truck and a flock of sheep had been dismantled? None of which explained the voice he was hearing with clarity in his head, a voice just over his shoulder but never there. It didn't explain either how that voice then connected to how the canine could now hear conversations he wasn't supposed to, 'connecting' to other devices. It made no sense... he had to find the connecting factor what would link everything together.

The ping of the elevator doors brought Alexander's attention out of his agonised contemplation. He stepped out into his expansive office workspace, glass walls on either side of him showing the sheer drop down below - one side to the monorail, the other to the streets. It gave the sense of illusion, that there was more to the room that met the eye, but it was an effect that was lost on Alexander. All around the room were various servers and computer screens, all hooked up to something or another. Alexander didn't have the time to take stock, entering the clean space and attempting to get his head into gear. What irked him more was that outside it was nothing but clear, blue skies and a lovely summer sun, whilst he was already ill, sweating behind glass, and trying to make sense of his predicament.

At the centre of the room stood a console, far larger than everything else, and tubes and wires trailed out from its base all along the floor, clearly modifications that had been made by someone else. Panels of the floor had been lifted up and placed to the side to make way for new connections, adaptors plugged into the mainframe of the Fulcrum. Alexander knew it to be the belly of the beast, the beating heart of the tower. Without that console there, fitted to the plethora of servers sitting beneath them, the tower wouldn't function the way it did. Half the city wouldn't. Though many wouldn't realise it, this very console had become an integral part of their lives. He strode up towards the main display, a holographic platform illuminating a soft yellow as an image that resembled a neutral male face formed from the particles,

"Good afternoon, Professor Viking."

The face was rather large and cumbersome, though it exhibited a calm demeanour Its eyes and nostrils were void of light, simply becoming empty sockets in the absence, and the upper lip was shaded just so that it was discernible where the mouth was. The jaw had been purposefully made to look squared, as a strong look often helped those who viewed the program to adjust better to its presence. It looked unrealistic, like it had been crudely designed. It often set people at ease if they saw an artificial intelligence as something tacky or incomplete, though it was already far beyond that.

"Hello Alpha," Alexander replied, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it somewhere off into the room. It didn't matter where. An automated arm linked into the building's sensors had already plucked it from the air before it even had a chance to land. Alpha's programming had already learnt to adapt to the dog's whims and manners, dutifully placing the jacket on a coat rack far off in the room, "Have you found any data from last night that appears to be anomalous?"

"Negative, sir. I've rechecked all external sensors from the observatory and nothing appears to be out of the ordinary." That wasn't the answer Alexander wanted to hear, rubbing his head as the headache was now a ringing pain against his skull.

"Nothing at all?"

"None, sir."

The Border Collie growled, punching the console before him. The sound rang out in the lab, a low quiet hum filling what would have been awkward silence between the two of them, as conditioning units cooled the room. Alexander wasn't sure where to start next... if there was no data to work from, his only option would be to return to the Highlands and try to locate what had attacked himself, with no means of tracking or tracing the creature. There was every possibility that he might have been hallucinating, and that some freak had in fact simply dismantled and dissected everything he'd come across whilst also attacking Alexander. It might also have been some vivid dream, spurred on by some gas the meteorite might have produced, only for the rock to have been nicked by a camper or a hiker made curious by the blaze. But no matter the answer the dog came up with, it only left other problems unresolved. He could have allowed for one odd coincidence, but for everything to have a feasible explanation behind it was too unnatural. And still, the migraine continued to burn at his head.

"Sir, a Mister Cain was here to see you."

"Yes, Alpha, I already know... He's been dealt with." Alexander didn't want to talk about it, but his A.I. was already aware of the situation regarding the interview. He couldn't hide much from something that had limited access to the web,

"Will Mister Cain be no longer writing about me in his article?"

"I don't know, Alpha, he may very well still do." Alexander sighed, pacing over to the window that overlooked the monorail. The bull might still be sitting in the terminal, waiting for his train. Alexander could apologise, cover his own tracks... if only his head was in the game, he might... If only his body was feeling like it was shutting down to a grinding halt.

"Shouldn't he be dealt with... sir?" The last word was punctuated, almost threateningly, but before Alexander had a chance to ask him what he meant, an idea struck him. Alpha had only checked external sensors. Maybe he hadn't considered looking internally... Why would he? There was no indication that the issue would be somewhere inside the observatory still.

"Alpha, check the observatory's internal sensor grid, look for anything unusual."

"Very well, sir," a pregnant pause, Alpha's gaze becoming ponderous before he spoke again, "No results detected."

Alexander nearly cursed under his breath, but there was one last place he could check. Somewhere he hadn't even really considered, mainly because the thought terrified him as to what he might find.

"Alpha... Scan me. Check my vitals. I've not been feeling well ever since I woke up after last night."

"Very well, sir," another pause, Alexander wringing his paws together as he waited anxiously. His head was now feeling like it was about to implode, his vision growing hazy and unfocused. Lights were fading in and out around the periphery of his gaze, though he could never quite see what they were. "Scan complete. Results indicate the presence of a metallic-organic parasite inside your nervous system. Recommend immediate medical attention."

Alexander's world blacked out only to return a moment later, feeling his body tumble backwards as if he'd been pushed and sent teetering. His back thumped against the glass, which cracked beneath the impact, allowing his weight to continue through on its momentum, arcing back until he could feel the wind rushing against his body. He was falling. Alexander was going to die and there was an alien inside him. Everything felt like it was on fire.

"Please do not resist," that female voice sounded again, clear into his head. Weird symbols and diagrams began to flicker before Alexander's eyes, moving with his line of sight no matter where he looked, forming to something akin to what he'd judge to be a display of some kind, the bizarre characters slowly transforming and translating into numbers and words he could understand; the speed at which he was falling, the trajectory of his descent, his heartrate, his internal temperature, a warning symbol and alarm sounding all around him as he was directed to the attention of his imminent death, "I am here to help."

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" he screamed, the wind ripping the air from his lungs as he struggled to breathe, to cope with the situation. He wanted to thrash about but his limbs were no longer under his command. He couldn't even wiggle a finger as he felt something sear along his skin, charged just beneath the fur and flesh, like something tunnelling its way through him. The parasite, it was all he could think about, festering deep within him and taking control. He tried to fight it, but no matter how hard he tried to fend off the voice that was speaking louder and louder in his head until it was almost a part of him, it was a losing battle.

By the display in his eyes, he was about to hit the ground, the world rushing up to meet him and end his life in one swift move, but his whole body suddenly jarred. Something enclosed around him, starting from his chest and working outwards, wrapping around his limbs, his waist, and sliding up his neck until it began to envelope his head.

Alexander wanted to scream, he really did, but his voice was cut off from the world as metal clicked shut over his head just as he was about to impact against the monorail terminal.

"My name is Eve, and I'm here to save you."