Kinverse: Volume One

PATH OF THE EMERALD MAIDEN

A naive young monster's tale by Moros, aka KinverseWriter

Legal Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise herein mentioned. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters and events in this story are entirely fictional. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. This work of fiction contains disturbing content.

Reader discretion is advised.

Description:

A young woman from a pre-neolithic society is accidentally whisked away to another world entirely during a raid on a research lab run by alien invaders. Stranded with no friends, badly injured, and no idea where home even is, she's forced to live off the land and learn how to survive in this strange and hostile world.

There's only one slight problem, though.

She's not trapped in this world with them. They're trapped in this world with her.

Categories:

Adventure, Coming-of-Age, Isekai, Erotica.

Disclaimers:

This story contains sexual elements and disturbing themes. The contents aren't purely intended to be pornographic, but some scenes objectively are. This is about a giant monster that eats people, so reader discretion is advised. This story contains vorarephilic themes.

This story will have a very slow and intermittent pace to begin with. True stakes don't really show up until halfway through, though the build-up is always there in the background. This is ultimately not a story of grand adventure and defeating one's enemies to rise to the top, it is the tale of a lost and naive young woman growing as a person and learning new things. It is a personal one concerning her, and thus this story will be told in present-tense first-person.

Chapter 25: Interlude 4: The Inspector

---

Stab wounds to both scapulas within the shoulders. Torso was torn open, many organs removed, arms and legs missing. Head is missing--dental records unable to be referenced. Pelvis is indicative of a male. Advanced state of decay puts time of death at least a week ago.

I toss down the coroner's report to my desk.

Useless.

During an active investigation into a missing persons report, normally finding a body 'just' complicates things. But an entirely different body? When you don't have any other reports?

Now that is a recipe for a shitshow.

Spencer Watson: only identifiable due to legal identification found at the initial crime scene. Susan Fitzpatrick: a third missing persons, also unreported but identifiable through the same means, though her body has not yet been found. A used condom with as-of-yet unconfirmed DNA testing results is potentially indicative of a relationship between the two, which may explain the lack of missing persons reports to a degree.

Both individuals' addresses on file register to the same rental home with one other male occupant: a Daniel Shae, who did not report the disappearances.

First the incident. Then the still-missing park ranger. Next an abduction of a couple, one almost certainly to be the recovered corpse, and then a fourth victim: a hunter who may or may not be one James Henderson discovered very, very dead at the scene of the ranger's own abduction. A man also only reasonably identifiable due to ID found at a bush campsite alongside evidence of illegal hunting activities.

Fuck my life. Two decades of nothing and then a quarter of the town burns down, we get a 'foreign dignitary,' have two murders and another two abductions, and all with only a single suspect in custody to show for it.

One who could never have done what happened to those men...

The pictures are right out of a horror movie: a torn tent with signs of a struggle; blood surrounding two punctures in the tent's floor, a man who looks like he was eaten, and most gruesome of all, another man missing his head and part of his torso halfway down the sternum. I'm not sure which is more disturbing; the state of Mr. Watson's body or Mr. Henderson's matter of demise. At least the gun and residue indicate he went down fighting.

All of this is obviously connected, but our other suspect similarly couldn't be involved. Not that it matters since he was carted away by the feds.

Well. Time to pursue the only lead I have until two more shallow graves are discovered.

I get up, lock up my things, and leave my office to head over to our little-used interrogation room, entering and then closing the door behind me. The man inside is a scrawny and fidgety little fellow; the perfect image of a rat. I have a lot of questions for him. He looks up at my entrance and I scan the surprisingly clean room considering its history.

It's your standard interrogation room for the most part. However, a few cardboard boxes sitting in the corner betray its previous use as a long-term storage closet--notably for holiday decorations. We didn't even have a bulb in the light until earlier today. The table probably would have been removed if not for it actually being necessary for the functionality of the room. It didn't help that it's bolted to the floor, even if they're somewhat rusty.

It's pretty cheap as far as interrogation rooms go--being literally the size of a storage closet, as well--and simply has a concealed camera for observation. The floor is simple concrete and the walls are covered in faded wooden panelling. It may as well be solitary confinement for a dinner party of three.

Regardless of the quality of our until now unnecessary amenities, I take my seat across from our suspect.

“Hello, Mr. Shae. My name is Inspector Harper. Can I get you anything?" I ask.

Our 'suspect' is currently seated opposite me at the table. No cuffs, since he's not under arrest; we only have him in for questioning. He's even got his phone still seeing as he isn't under arrest, though he wasn't using it when I came in. It takes a moment before he responds to my question.

“Um. No thanks, sir, I'm, um, I'm fine," he blurts out.

He's nervous as all hell and it's plain for anyone to see. The first step is calming him down a bit so I can ask him what I need to. I do my best to force a smile onto my tired face.

“Water? Soda? Donut? C'mon kid, it's not every day you get a cop donut, eh?"

Be personable. Be approachable. Kids these days don't trust the cops, even out here.

It works and he calms down a bit, his fidgeting and twitching subsiding somewhat.

“No, sir. Thank you," he replies politely.

I let out a long exasperated sigh as I sit back casually. “It's been a stressful few weeks for everyone, kid. I'm sorry you've gotta be here but I have a few questions for you today. Do you mind if we begin?"

After a moment of thought and a few deep breaths to further calm his nerves, he nods his head before realizing what I asked.

“No, sir. I'm fine, ask away," he corrects.

Time to begin. "Alright. We're looking into a missing persons case. Do you know the whereabouts of your housemates, Spencer and Susan?"

His face pales in dread. Whether it's because he does know something or simply because he's been told two people he's well-acquainted with are missing, I don't yet know.

Either way, he's quiet for a while.

“Sir?" I prompt him. He looks back up to me.

“Uh- that's, um... I- no, I do not."

He puts on a tough face but he's just a kid. I may not have had much experience the past few decades when it comes to questioning people but it doesn't take a genius to spot how rattled he is.

He remains quiet, doing his best to appear resolute.

“Can you tell me a bit about your roommates, please?" I ask. Hopefully it calms him down a bit, though it risks making him think more about their being missing.

He purses his lips for a moment, mulling over his answer before looking up past my face. “They're... alright, I suppose. Spencer's a cool dude, but... Susan's a bit of a party animal." He chuckles forcedly. “She's... honestly a bit of a bad influence on him, and he tends to be a prick at times because of it, but it's, um... all in good fun."

He continues his vacant, distant gaze, never breaking from the wall behind me. He's nervous still, but I'd wager against cops nervous.

"Have you ever met a 'Carey Fairbanks'?" I ask.

“N-no, sir," he stammers out. The age-old problem for investigators: nerves or lies? He looks to my face but averts his eyes once more. I continue.

"Do you know a man named 'James Henderson'?"

“No, sir," he replies with a bit more conviction. This time he's actually looking at me, but his situation is clearly getting to him. Time for the big question.

"How long have your housemates been missing and why haven't you come forward?"

He looks down and away again, and doesn't answer.

Time to start pressing him. This isn't a criminal interrogation, so there's nothing I can do if he clams up, but any information at all is better than what I'm running on. He was dumb enough not to request the presence of a lawyer for questioning, and he did come in when asked to answer some questions, so I know I have a bit of leeway here, but... it's a balancing act.

“Sir, we have a witness who claims you were acquainted with Ms. Fairbanks. You were spotted at a party she was hosting. She's missing, too." He looks up, and his face blanches again as I continue. “We're trying to find your friends, sir, if there's anything at all that you can tell us..."

Gotcha.

He puts his head into his hands and lets out a long, shaking sigh. We have three missing persons as far as he's aware, and he was acquainted with all three. Presumably, he thinks that we think that he's involved. Now would be the time to call for a lawyer, but... it's a classic human response to try to clear things up; a fact which law enforcement and criminal justice systems the world over use to their advantage. I may be rusty with interrogations but I know the theory, and he proves me right.

“I... I was... they were in the park. Not- not Carey- I mean, Spencer and Susan, were. Carey is... a park ranger. At the park." He pauses for a moment to collect himself. “They stayed in the park during the evacuation order. They... tricked our driver after a p-, um, cook-out and remained behind."

So here we have why they were there. But...

“Mr. Shae, can you tell me how they planned to return home?"

Shaking breaths. Dilating eyes. He knows something, and I've just reminded him of it, whatever it is.

“...I was going to pick them up."

Going to?

"So you were supposed to pick them up after returning. Why didn't you?"

He averts his gaze again to study the faded wood paneling on the disused room's wall.

“I- I haven't, um... gone to pick them up, sir. Hadn't. I was..." he says before fading off, leaving his sentence unfinished.

I've gotten about all I can expect to get. I've played good cop and a bit of bad cop, now it's time for rude cop. I maintain my casual lean back but shift my tone and approach.

"Well they would have needed to get home eventually and the rangers would have found them first. They did, even. Three weeks alone, and you didn't go get them immediately? Sir, you are our prime suspect, cooperation is recommended."

His eyes go wide. Here's hoping the aggressive questioning continues to work. He was dumb enough not to come forward, he's probably still dumb enough to cave. Whether he noticed my mention of the rangers finding them or not--yet them still being missing--I do not yet know.

“Okay, okay! I went! First thing I did, in- I was borrowing a friend's car to drive back. I went there. I found their tent, I found-"

He stops himself to think for a bit. This time, he speaks slower, putting careful consideration into his words.

“I found their tent. I left. I just..." he stops for a moment, again. “I just left. I panicked. They were gone, and I didn't know what to do." He turns to face the wall.

For fuck's sakes. I knew that he knew something, but this? He'd already found the damn scene, days earlier?!

I press him on it. "So you knew something was wrong but didn't report it. Why? The first twenty-four hours of a disappearance are the most important."

He has no response and simply continues to stare at the wall. Nevertheless, I continue. It sucks that he's going to have find out this way, but there's no easy way to break it.

"We have reason to believe that Spencer is dead, sir. We found a body," I state.

He still does not respond, but his face tells me everything. He's probably running through all of his options.

After half a minute of silence he speaks up.

“...What do you mean, a body, sir? Wouldn't... wouldn't you know... whose it is?"

We don't. We can't establish a positive I.D. without a goddamn face.

---

It's dark as shit out here, but sleep is a luxury for those who haven't just been handed multiple successive messes. I'd rather check this road in my squad car, but if there was a crash it could be hard to notice from a vehicle.

A voice comes up over the radio. Officer Marty, one of the initial responding officers.

“Inspector, we've found something."

With my flashlight in one hand, I reach for my radio with the other and send my reply.

“What? Out with it, Marty."

“A body, sir. Shallow grave. Bones. Dog found it."

Fuck. Marty may be an idiot but he's an idiot with a cop dog, at least.

“Secure the scene, keep the wildlife away from it. Don't touch them, don't dig them up any more, just leave it. You stay there, send your partner back to the first scene--I'm on my way."

“Got it, inspector."

BANG!

A rifle shot goes off not a few hundred meters from my position! I run ahead along the access road, pulling my own pistol out just in case--but not before calling this in.

“This is Inspector Harper, I've got a gunshot near my position. I'm investigating. I'm on an access road southwest of Alexandra Peak. I'd like back up in case something goes wrong."

Four more gunshots ring out, and then they cease. A guttural roar sounds out over the hills, like nothing I've ever heard before. Not a bear. Not a man. A primal instinct within me wakes and thinks only one thing: something worse. Only a few minutes later I arrive presumably at the site of the gunshot. Ahead of me is a truck. Its front is off the road, plowed into a tree partially off the road and thankfully not halfway down the hill. Shining my light all around to try and spot anyone, I call out.

“This is the police! Is anyone out there?"

. . .

. . .

I get no response back but for light reflecting off of the vehicle's mirrors. I do however spot a different source of light shining up from the muddy road. The whole place smells of spent gunpowder.

Reaching down, I find a phone. Mud coats its screen, which I wipe away. Its flashlight is on and it's unlocked, with the camera app having been activated. On its screen is a blurry brown and red shape, indistinct in the low light. Backing out to the app screen I find a golden retriever's face staring back at me. I open the contacts to try and figure out whose phone this is.

Mother

Sam

Frank

Work

Landlord

Kate

Anna

Margaret

Pizza Hut

I need not scroll further. Mother, right at the top. I tap it then the text button.

7:37 AM

Carey remember 2 pack lunch.

7:42 AM

What are you, my mom?

7:43 AM

LOL love you.

7:43 AM

Love you too.

1:22 PM

I think the party was good 4 Sam. Stop by after work.

Carey Fairbanks. Sam Fairbanks. It's still on, and with the flashlight running. She's been missing for, what, eight hours? The battery reads 49%.

This is recent.

An odd smell reaches my nose. One that sends a chill up my spine.

Oh no...

I search through the surrounding area; in the truck, underneath it, in its back, and in the trees surrounding. Eventually... I find it. Him, to be precise; very clearly him. A naked man, the blood still fresh with his entire head missing and a V-shaped gouge running down his sternum.

I turn aside as I retch, only barely keeping my dinner down.

A rifle dropped by his side... complicates things. This happened minutes ago. If I was just a bit faster this man might be alive. And yet still, there is no sign of Carey Fairbanks aside from her phone and vehicle.

Lights in the distance are the first sign of my backup arriving. I lightly jog for the road and wave the squad car down.

---

The second site--or rather, first, evidently--painted an even grimmer picture, but this final one...

This time, I don't so much as gag. I've seen far worse just a few hours prior.

Unlike the gory and frostbitten mess the other victim had been, this one is the complete opposite. Most of the remains are still buried, but Marty's tracker dog had already dug up what appears to be a rather damaged skull. All of the teeth are missing, and parts of it seem pitted. The entire thing is discolored as if stained from something and no organic tissue remains. If not for the dog tracking this from a scent picked up in the tent and the bones being buried relatively shallowly in the mud, by all appearances the body could have been here for years.

Another officer is busy taking pictures of the scene while the summoned coroner waits to begin excavating the site. Marty's dog is with his owner, shying away behind his legs as he stands off to the side, bundled up and trying to keep warm. I'm no expert on dogs, but he almost seems afraid for some reason, tail between his legs.

I call over to him. “Hey, Marty. Your dog alright? He doesn't look happy," I say.

He reaches down and reassuringly strokes his back. “Never seen him like this before, sir. Hey, are we done out here? Normally my boy likes burying the bones, I don't think he likes the change of pace, eh?" he jokes.

“I've got one last thing before I send you two home to warm up." I say, before indicating deeper in the woods. “Think you can get him to see if the trail continues?"

Something isn't right with that skeleton, and I've got a hunch, considering what I saw earlier...

“Sure thing, inspector," he replies as he coaxes his dog into action again. The animal whines, but performs its duty. He holds the bit of blood-stained tent floor up to his nose and the dog sniffs at it before backing away and whining again, straining at the leash.

Alright then...

Marty looks up to me and shrugs.

I walk over and pat him on the back. “Get back to the park's visitor center and warm up, Marty; maybe take a nap. We've got it from here," I say.

His face lights up into a look of relief, and he hurriedly pats his dog before they both leave back the way we came. He's still got an hour's hike back to the road, but that's inevitable.

Before I follow him and leave the others at the scene to their work, I stare at that skull one more time.

Its eyes are hollow, the bone as pitted as before, and just as empty of answers. Hopefully the coroner will have something for us.

---

“I'm not at liberty to dispense that information, Mr. Shae." His face twists to one of further confusion. “Did he have any identifying marks? Childhood injuries? Fractured bones? Anything of the sort?" I ask.

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Well... he dropped out of highschool soccer after a bad injury to his leg that healed wrong."

That about lines up with something else on the report. Damnit... that has to be Mr. Watson in our morgue. The bones from both sites match up to one whole dead failed jock.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Shae. I have no further questions. And for the record, I don't think you had anything to do with the disappearances themselves, but you really should have reported this sooner."

He perks up, his demeanor quickly shifting now that he's gotten his mistakes off his intact chest. “Um... can I get that donut before I go, actually?"

I smile reassuringly. Good cop time again. “Of course. Mr. Shae."

With the questioning done with I bid farewell to the only actual living individual known of in this mess and settle in to my office, having sacrificed the last now day-old donut in the building for a shred of community goodwill with a ne'er do-well.

Once things were secured at both sites I'd had Marty try to track Carey from the crash, but... no dice. His dog wouldn't cooperate whatsoever there either, something he's never seen before. 'Completely spooked,' according to him.

Two bodies, both in very different states; one reasonably identifiable and the other we're at a complete loss for. We're running the registry of the rifle but it'll take a few days. We've got lots of physical evidence, but... that's it. If we're lucky it'll come up as belonging to one 'James Henderson,' and we won't have a fifth individual involved in this mess.

A spooked tracker dog. A devoured man. A headless corpse. A missing ranger.

And of course... these.

From my desk I withdraw a folder of photographs. Contained within are images of both bodies, the crash site, a printed copy of the last picture from Carey's phone, and pictures I myself took of the 'footprints' spotted at both the hunter's camp and the scene of the crash. Deep gouges in the mud from sharp claws, spaced wide enough apart to have come from something as big as a bear, if not even larger.

If all of that wasn't bad enough, the picture's metadata indicates it was taken not long before I arrived on-scene, which combined with the battery, means that Carey was still there but disappeared in under a minute without a trace.

I'm too old for this shit.

Dinosaurs and aliens. My life has officially become a B movie. Next, the dead will rise to devour the living and demons will invade as God ordains the rapture, or perhaps werewolves and vampires will duke it out over the fate of small-town Gold River.

I grab the second coroner's report, this time from the potential Mr. Henderson, and only an initial one before an autopsy can be performed.

'-the deceased bears multiple (7) minor wounds across his upper torso stemming from shrapnel. The shrapnel appears to be a brown organic composite of unknown source. Cause of death is likely major organ failure of the heart, lungs, and brain-'

No fucking shit, 'major organ failure.' Major organ disappearance, more like. Fuck this. Screw it. I'm kicking this up the chain again.

When they carted off our little visitor they left me a hotline to call 'in case anything else came up.'

Well... something else has come up.

ARC THREE: PREDATIONS

---

A/N:

In this chapter, you learn the names of Emeral's victims, meet three new characters, and little else of note in regards to the greater story other than Inspector Harper's finding the bodies. That's it. There is nothing else being hinted at. There is absolutely no greater story involved.

Dan Shae is another minor background character. This is the last time he will ever be mentioned in the story, as his relevance is over. There's nothing special about him, he's just a nervous dumbass whose friends are dead because he played along with a moronic idea.