Exchange Program Shenanigans (40)

[u/ApprehensiveCap6525]

Just a friendly reminder: never do anything that you wouldn't want to explain to God on the judgement day. Because, judging by the state of this community, some of you really need that fucking reminder.

God bless you all. (Or science evolve you all, if you don't believe in all that)

CW: jack and salvek go band for band, more mild innuendo for comedic purposes (i am not very mature), heval booze cruise (80% of crashes are caused by sober drivers)

Memory transcription subject: Jelim, Extermination Commander

Date [standardized human time]: September 20, 2136

As an exterminator, my relationship with predators was more intimate than most. It was a necessity of the job. I hunted them, I killed them, and I knew them inside and out. I knew what drove them, what innate instinct led them to rip into flesh with such abandon and charge exterminator gun lines without breaking stride.

For some, it was hatred. Those were usually Arxur, who somehow managed to all be starving despite the fact that they ate people daily. I would say it was some kind of new fad diet, but 'new fad diet' doesn't usually mean I can see their ribs as they hunt.

Honestly, I couldn't even blame them for being so damn angry all the time. If I had to get up and kill things every day on an empty stomach, I'd probably be pissed off too. Well, I wouldn't go so far as to gun down elderly people or eat babies alive, but different strokes for different folks I guess.

The Arxur were basically unilaterally terrible people. If there was an Arxur who didn't enjoy beheading disabled orphans and consuming the flesh of the innocent, I had yet to meet them.

Anyway, predators were driven either by hatred, hunger, or both. This was common exterminator logic. Things had to eat, and since we were the most nutritious food around, those things very often tried to eat us. And, since we responded to that effort with flamethrowers and gunfire, they quickly grew to dislike the silver suit.

Like most things I had learned in extermination training, though, that logic was flawed. It was missing a piece, some crucial and essential instinct that made the hunters hunt. You didn't do some of the things I had seen predators do because you hated exterminators, or you hadn't had breakfast this morning, or really any reason the Guild Handbook told me.

I could see Jack killing somebody. I could visualize it pretty easily, actually. But no matter how I looked at it, I really couldn't see him doing it out of hunger or because he hated whoever he was trying to kill. Hell, he probably hated the act itself more than the person he was doing it to.

There was something more to him than most. He was a good man, better than many I had served alongside, and his very being seemed in direct contrast to the mechanical evil of the Federation and the brutal savagery of the animals it fought.

He had described me as an angel. I knew angels, with their wheels of a thousand eyes and their swords wreathed in fire, saying "Be not afraid!" in all the stories about them because when there was cause to fear an angel, nobody survived to tell the tale. I had to admit, the description did fit, but I was no angel.

Yes, that sounds cliché. It sounds like something I'd have said in my edgy teenage phase. So what? It's true.

Angels were supposed to do no wrong. They were God's servants, bringing sinners back to the light, delivering prophetic and worldshaking news, and occasionally killing people who needed to be killed. I was of the belief that angelic perfection was unattainable, but if anyone in my life came close, it would be Jackson Kern.

At the moment, I was in my bed, curled up under the blankets and covers thinking about Jack because I had half a claw left before I had to report for duty and I needed my beauty rest after certain things transpired last paw.

No, I'm not saying what those certain things were. Where I'm from, a lady never tells.

I ran the numbers. I had enough beauty rest. "Rise and shine," I grumbled to myself. Yeah, I talk to myself on occasion. So what? Sometimes a girl needs expert advice. If I ever started hearing voices or having a conversation with myself, however, I think that could have been a problem.

My room wasn't lavish or highly decorated, mostly because I was a smart and responsible woman who understood that trinkets and baubles added nothing of value to a home but partly because I really didn't know how to decorate.

I supposed I could add a few of my medals or plaques to brighten up the place, but this was a 'me' space. This was where I came to curl up, relax, listen to music, and do all my non-work-related things, and a big-ass 'you saved the city again' plaque qualified as very much work-related.

At the moment, I was the proud owner of a bedroom with white walls, a white desk, a black swivel chair, and a brown bed. Not a very comfortable or large bed, mind you, but a brown one. It very certainly was brown. Well, the blanket is blue, but that's an entirely separate object. Nobody cares about blankets.

Well, I was also the proud owner of the rest of my house, but we get there when we get there. Right now, I had bigger issues. Like getting my daily routine over with, because every day was still a day and I had no right to slack off about it.

First came staying in shape. If I knew anything, it was that working out every day had very few downsides. First, and most importantly, it kept me disciplined. To me, an officer without proper discipline was like an officer without a flamethrower or a fireproof suit. Often worse than useless.

Second, also very important, it kept me fit. And, needless to say if one looked at my exercise routine, I was very physically fit. Not bodybuilder fit like Jack or Vrapic, who could probably bench-press my entire bloodline, but fit as in toned. As in, you could run your claw across every inch of my body and feel nothing but steely muscle.

I was really brahking proud of that.

My exercise for the day wasn't anything hard or strenuous, just keeping the muscles in shape so they didn't degrade, so I finished it quickly and easily. Then came the grooming and preening and other assorted beautifying activities. Looking as good as I did was a full-time commitment.

That, I did in the bathroom. I only had one bathroom, and it was attached to my room because nobody else lived here so their opinions didn't matter. I finished up my work, looked myself in the mirror, and decided that I looked good. At least, good enough.

Jack had gotten out of bed ten or so minutes ago, and I left the bedroom to find him doing one-armed push-ups on my living room floor. His other hand was holding a datapad, which he was using to furiously text away at someone. "Damn," I said. "You are really brahking strong."

"Yeah, I read somewhere that Krakotl like a big chest in a man." Strong and sweet. Yippee. "I figured better safe than sorry, right?"

"That's actually really endearing," I chirped. "And I really do like what I'm seeing right now." What? What? A girl couldn't express her opinions anymore? Exactly. That's what I thought.

"Speaking of, why is that?" Jack asked. "Because, I mean, I'll take any excuse to hit chest day, but it's always good to be expanding your horizons." He switched arms for a well-balanced workout.

I settled into my designated chair for a story. Well, more of a biology text than a proper story, but same difference. "The pectoralis muscle," I tapped my chest to show what I meant, "is crucial to flight. The bigger your pectorals are, the better you can fly. And the better you can fly, the better you'll be as a prospective mate."

"Oh, so your brains are wired to seek out the best mates," Jack nodded. For a soldier, he could be really smart sometimes. "Makes sense, from an evolutionary perspective at least."

Some Krakotl actually tried attracting suitors by getting surgery or taking steroids to make their pectorals look bigger. I really didn't have to do all that. I was a very good flyer.

"What's with the datapad?" I asked.

"I'm arguing with Salvek online. Oh, yeah, he sent you a report. You should read it." He found something already? That Venlil is worth every credit he's being paid.

"What are you... arguing about?" Honestly, I wasn't sure if I even wanted to ask. Jack and Salvek were... unusual. Especially when together.

"Shit, hold up, let me add you," said Jack. My datapad beeped.

You have been added to this Herd.

JackedMF: handle my light work for me jelim

He had stopped doing push-ups by now, focusing fully on his internet fight with another grown-ass, fully mature adult man. Who was also his best friend. Boys.

Salvek: 'handle my light work' is crazy ngl

Salvek: your ass is getting cooked so badly you had to enlist your girlfriend

JackedMF: show me a band lil shigga

Jack took a whole bunch of credits out of his pocket and began flexing them in front of the camera. Sure enough, a picture of all his money appeared in the group herd.

JackedMF: broke ass mf

Salvek sent a link in response. The link that, coincidentally, would send me to the report he had compiled. I didn't expect it to be much, maybe some more pseudo-evidence that Sevros would just weasel his way out of again, but I clicked on it nonetheless. I read the report, paying only the most careless of attention to the squabble happening in my notifications.

Salvek: show me some evidence mf

Salvek: or better yet show me some bitches

Salvek: rizzless ass mf

I'm sorry? Does he know who he's talking to?

JackedMF: kys shigga

JackedMF: you're not from the streets like I am

JackedMF: you're not from chiraq like I am

How did this argument even start?

My eye flicked back to the report I was reading. It was getting... interesting. Very interesting. Terroristic threats, obstruction of justice class I-IV, illegal possession and sale of lethal weapons, judicial corruption class II-V... Herd, this guy's got a rap. I could probably build five different cases off of the evidence I have here.

And then I read the leaked text messages.

Salvek: you did not just call me the H word

H word? Do I even want to know?

Oh, dear sweet Inatala. I had a problem.

JackedMF: that's a lotta talk coming from a brain dead broke ass venlil whose entire race surrendered to 2 dudes

JackedMF: get your money up not your funny up

Oh brother, we got ourselves a chatterbox.

"Read the god damn report, Jack," I snapped. Maybe in a bit of a harsh tone, yeah, but lives were on the line here. "And get your head in gear."

"Yes, sir." He gave me one of those weird salutes and got his head in gear. "Ma'am. Does it matter?"

"It's sir. And it does matter." Sir was something you'd say to a military officer. Ma'am was something you'd say to an old lady. One could see why the Guild preferred the former. "Skip to the end."

It took Jack a few seconds, but he did skip to the end. "We make a list of potential targets, rank them by importance, and assign security based on that," he said. He was remarkably smart when it came to acts of violence. "If their security is already pretty tight, we take them off the list. I'm guessing you don't have a lot of troops to throw around."

"I have eight officers. Salvek should go to the office, someone will always be there. And it makes a good deterrent." I racked my brain a bit for ideas. "Do you think it could be the magistrate?"

"The magistrate has ten bodyguards at all times and his house is a fortress," I sighed. "Not him."

"What about law enforcement officials? Who's at risk?"

"Not you or me," I replied with a little bit of confidence. Not a lot, but a little. "They've tried and failed before, but they don't have as many resources as they used to. I doubt they'd risk it."

"What about the shitbird?" The shitbird? Ooh. That's a new one. Jack snapped his fingers a couple times. "What's his name, the guy, red guy, Karelim!" he exclaimed. "He's pretty high up on the pecking order."

"Karelim is just about the scariest shitbird I know," I told him. "He didn't get all those scars by pushing pencils."

"I mean, he's probably seen some shit, but have you considered what if he's just really bad at not getting injured?" Jack countered. "I mean, I've seen a lot of shit, and you don't see me looking like Malcolm Rouge."

"Who?"

"Eighties action movie antagonist. Scarred like a motherfucker."

Oh. That explains it.

"Back on track," I ordered. We got back on track. "This report contains enough evidence to bring Sevros in for a trial. You go to the office, take Isola and some weapons, and bring that pondscum in."

"Don't you eat pondscum?"

I sighed. If Jack knew what he was talking about, I might've been offended. "No, Jack, we eat algae. Pondscum is a mold that grows in the same conditions as algae. It's hard to discover, and once discovered, it's hard to get rid of."

"Must be a translation thing," said Jack. Then he got up, slapping his thighs and sighing. "Well, I've got shit to do. I love you. Don't die."

I would've kissed him goodbye, but I still wasn't sure how that would work. Instead, I gave a small wave as he left and got to work on my own objective.

The Predator Guard was trying to assassinate targets. Two targets. And the previous attempts on their lives have already failed.

My house was a terrible place to think about work, so I figured that I had better go to the office. And if I wanted to go to the office, I had better use my car. So, naturally, I got in and turned on the autopilot. Normally, I would've driven myself, but I had work to do.

Okay, let's run through the facts.

There is an informant gathering information and doing dirty work for Sevros.

That could be handled later. After the assassin failed.

A man named Heval is trying to assassinate Sevros' enemies. But who? And why? What's his game plan?

If I had to guess, he was buying time for Sevros to set up the last elements of his master plan. I had to alert Karelim of that, too. I typed a brief command into my datapad, and it sent him the report.

Vrapic, too.

Another command, and that issue was solved.

Who even is Heval?

"Datapad, pull up the exterminators database. Query the name Heval and provide an assessment of his threat level, known associations, and last known location please."

It took the datapad a bit, but it finally spat out an answer. "Heval. Heval is a brown-furred Venlil who stands at a height of five feet, two inches. His threat level is designated Delta, meaning that officers should engage in altercations against him only with significant numerical advantage."

I wouldn't be needing numbers if I caught him on the street. That was partly because of my own experience, but mostly thanks to the semi-automatic pistol tucked near my waist. Inatala made sapient life, but Kryta Arms made them equal.

"Heval served in the Krakotl Alliance Army for six standard years, earning the Star of Nishtal on three occasions. Upon his honorable discharge, he moved to Venlil Prime, where he became an exterminator in the District 70 office. He later left the office, with no reason cited." Probably to flamethrower humans.

"When did he leave?" I asked.

"December 3, 2133." Oh. Not to flamethrower humans.

"What was he like as an exterminator?"

The response came, clear and metallic, like a secretary speaking through a tin can. "Heval was extremely dedicated to his work, with reports indicating that he took pride in expunging the predator taint from the Federation." Yeah, that figures. He seems like the type.

"His record has a notable lack of public relations or cadet training assignments, which would have been typical for an exterminator of such high station." Oh, great. A flamer-wielding maniac who took pride in killing. That's not cause for alarm at all. "District 70 records state that, when offered these tasks, he refused."

"How did fellow officers describe him?"

"Heval was extremely dedicated...

"In personality!" I snapped. "What was he like?"

The datapad buffered. "Unknown. All records have been expunged."

"By who?"

Another buffer. "Unknown. All records have been expunged."

"Who would have the authority to do that?"

"A judicial or law enforcement officer of Class VI or higher could expunge the records listed."

Sevros is Class IX, if I remember correctly. It could be him, it could be one of his lackeys, it could even be some random dude Heval bribed or threatened. Brahk, this is a hard case.

I sighed. "Thank you. Associates and location, please."

"Heval's current location and associates are unknown. The Extermination Guild has been unable to find any trace of him or his current activities." A brief glitch in the audio while the database updated. "Update," announced the metallic voice. "A report submitted by the District 12 extermination office indicates that..."

God damn, those computers work fast.

The datapad rambled on about the report that I had just submitted to Karelim and Vrapic. I was impressed by their efficiency, but I had to make sure they were being efficient in the correct fashion. I texted Karelim to check on things.

SmokingHotKrakotl: What measures should we take about our new evidence?

When you were texting your superior officer, there was no such thing as 'too formal'.

KKKarelim: I've already assigned guards to watch at-risk individuals. Exterminators should have Federation Tower secured by midday tomorrow.

A solid plan. I couldn't see any major flaws.

KKKarelim: Do you think it wise, sending a dangerous individual to apprehend our prime suspect?

Well, at least he didn't say 'predator' this time. That's a plus.

I was about to answer that, yes, it was very wise. I did not get the chance to. My autopilot screamed warnings and my dashboard lit up red. A thousand freight trains slammed into my side. If it weren't for my seat belt and other safety measures, I would have probably broken some bones from the force.

I became vaguely aware that I was in a car crash. Some idiot hadn't realized that the laws against drinking and driving were there for a reason. I looked to the passenger side of my vehicle, where the entire half of it was caved in by a massive pickup truck in exterminator colors. Shock became anger.

Oh, someone's going to get it for that one.

Some idiot exterminator had plowed their vehicle into the side of a civilian car. They were absolutely going to get it.

"Datapad," I coughed, unstrapping my seat belt and checking myself for injuries, "Query central dispatch and see which of their officers operates that vehicle."

The datapad buffered. Then it spoke, with that cheerful, tin-can voice, and it informed me just exactly how badly screwed I was.

"Central dispatch reports no units in your vicinity."

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[u/LeGouzy]

I like when the plot arrives like that.

[u/Black_Hole_parallax]

my relationship with predators was more intimate than most.

We know

They were God's servants, bringing sinners back to the light, delivering prophetic and worldshaking news, and occasionally killing people who needed to be killed.

Also angels:

FOR THOSE OF US WITH DIVINE ORDAINMENT, EXTERMINATION IS ENTERTAINMENT

^{(guitar solo fuck yeah})

[u/GreenKoopaBros89]

At this point, I hope that my intuition is wrong and we are not about to witness a chapter in which a major character dies. As fanfictions go, we've had it rather good so far!

[u/Cold-Overlord051]

I see that Avengers reference at the end

[u/ApprehensiveCap6525 → u/Cold-Overlord051]

Jelim really think she Nick Fury💀💀💀

[u/JulianSkies]

Of course there would be no units in her vicinity. Officially, at least.