PROLOGUE: THE MUTATED​

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“That’s sick, bro. And not in a cool way, but sick-sick.” Kaz flattened his lips. His camel-brown fringe leveled withhis eyebrows, parting slightly to reveal the glistening sweat on his forehead. Even though it was nighttime, with the usual twin moons risen high above casting their lavender-rose light, the temperature was thirty degrees Celsius. Not a leaf on the palm trees was blowing, and only the waves on the beach suggested there was a light breeze.

 

“My sister named him Gwimi, he’s just an example of whatever other species they keep in secret captivity.” Jean was a slender young man with chocolate-brown skin.

On his open palm was Gwimi, a wobbly, light peach, jelly-like ball with webbed tentacles that spread around its base like an open umbrella with a bulging top. His oversized, round eyes were glassy black and took up most of his face, with feathery antennae shaped like slim leaves above them. With no nose, his little mouth was stretched long and thin like a jelly straw pierced into the pouch of blood in Kaz’s hand, sucking it like drinking nectar.

 

“Amazing he’s not turned into a grilled octopus on a skewer by now.” Kaz studied the creature. “Gwimi could still be a mutated species.”

 

“He’s mutated alright, but intentionally engineered with…”

 

As if helping Jean further demonstrate, Gwimi's bumpy jelly skin grew fluffy white fur, covering up his entire body as he retracted his long, stretched mouth back to his head, leaving a tiny trunk pointing out.

 

“Okay, now that’s cute.” Kaz arched his brows. “What mutant species is he?”

 

“The body and jelly clearly were dumbo octopus, but the stretchable mouth and feeding on blood, we’re not quite sure. So, will you help us rescue them?”

 

“I don’t think we can do much if they are making cute engineered species. They’re not breaking the law.”

 

“That’s why we need to break them out. Are you in or not?”

 

“Bro, we can’t just break in and steal mutated species. That's multiple felonies. It’s the same as breaking into someone’s house and stealing their rare exotic pets.”

 

Biting his lower lip, Jean stared down at Gwimi for a few seconds. “There’s more, Kaz,” his voice turned gloomy. His mouth lowered to the tip of his chin, shrinking and elongating like a slim straw of human flesh piercing into the pouch.

 

“You remind me of a mosquito.” Feeling a tingling sensation in his face, Kaz was able to maintain his posture stiffly. “You’re telling me, of all the mutated genes, you ended up with mosquito DNA in your strand.”

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Jean nodded, still sucking in the blood until his cheeks turned pink.

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Without further explanation, Kaz raised the matte-white steel, which resembled a square-shaped sewer pipe, with one hand and pressed it to his shoulder. It was the professional hunter’s gun in their world.

 

“I’ll gather our men.”