By nine the next morning, Mayra had created a conspiracy wall.
Not metaphorically.
An actual wall covered in printed articles, screenshots, maps, and red string.
I stared at it from the top of Amelia’s desk lamp.
Then slowly looked at Mayra.
Long high buzz.
Idiot.
She pointed at me without turning around.
“Mock me now.
Thank me when we expose the secret government monster department.” Amelia sat at her desk with a cup of tea.
“There is no evidence it is a government department.” Mayra added another piece of red string.
“There is a three-letter agency appearing at unexplained biological incidents.” “Three letters do not establish government affiliation.” “They wear matching black jackets.” “So does half the security industry.” “They arrive with police escorts.” Amelia paused.
Mayra turned triumphantly.
“Thank you.” I was beginning to appreciate how often those two could argue while technically agreeing.
The wall was ridiculous.
The information on it was not.
Mayra had spent most of the night digging through old local-news archives, cached social-media posts, deleted forum discussions, public incident reports, and enough questionable websites that her laptop probably needed an exorcism.
The letters A.R.B.
appeared six times.
Six incidents across approximately eighteen months.
Every event involved something unusual enough to attract attention but ordinary enough to explain away afterward.
A warehouse closed because of “chemical contamination.” A storm drain sealed after “dangerous wildlife activity.” A wooded section of city park temporarily evacuated after three hikers reported being attacked by what one witness described as an insect “the size of a dinner plate.” That witness later withdrew the statement.
A veterinary clinic received two dogs suffering from unexplained puncture wounds and severe neurological symptoms.
The animals recovered.
The case disappeared from local reporting within a day.
Then came Westbridge University.
That was the one that mattered.
Mayra tapped a printed article.
“Seven months ago.” The headline read: STEAM LEAK FORCES TEMPORARY CLOSURE OF WESTBRIDGE EAST RESIDENCE BASEMENT I stared.
East Residence.
Our building.
Amelia read the article again.
“Facilities reported a failed steam-pressure valve.” “Except…” Mayra pulled out another sheet.
A student had posted photographs on a campus forum before the thread disappeared.
Police tape outside the east dorm.
Two city fire vehicles.
One ambulance.
And, standing beside a black utility van— a man wearing a dark jacket.
White letters on the chest.
ARB Mayra pointed so hard I worried about her finger.
“Boom.” Amelia remained unimpressed.
But her eyes sharpened.
“Who posted the photograph?” “Account deleted.” “Name?” “Cached username.” Mayra rotated the laptop.
johnm_91 John.
A common name, but attached to a photograph worth remembering.
Mayra continued.
“According to the replies, he was a resident assistant.” “Still here?” “I checked.” Of course she had.
“John Mercer.
Graduate student now.
Environmental engineering.” Amelia looked at her.
“You located him overnight.” Mayra shrugged.
“People put everything online.” A terrifying truth.
I looked toward the wall again.
Steam leak.
Seven months ago.
ARB.
Same building.
Our current anomaly wasn’t new.
Maybe the energy source beneath us had been active before.
Maybe someone had already found it.
The heartbeat from last night echoed in my memory.
THUMP.
If ARB knew— why was the thing still there?
That question bothered me.
I flew toward the article.
Tapped it.
Then toward the campus map.
Then the old sub-basement.
Amelia understood.
“Perhaps they investigated the wrong cause.” Maybe.
Mayra frowned.
“Or they found it and couldn’t remove it.” Less comforting.
I used one buzz.
Possible.
Amelia folded her arms.
“Or the source was dormant.” That felt more likely.
Seven months ago, an incident.
Then nothing public.
Now mutations were increasing and the heartbeat was waking.
Something had changed.
Mayra leaned against her desk.
“So step one is John Mercer.” Amelia shook her head.
“No.” Mayra’s expression fell.
“Why?” “Because we do not know what he saw, who questioned him, or whether speaking about it would attract attention.” “But he posted the photo.” “Seven months ago.” “And deleted it.” “Exactly.” Good point.
Mayra stared at the wall.
“So what do we do?” I flew toward the window.
Then toward the hallway.
Observe.
Amelia watched me.
“You want to find him without speaking to him.” One buzz.
Yes.
Mayra frowned.
“Stalk him.” Long high buzz.
Idiot.
“Reconnaissance stalking.” I gave up.
Amelia considered.
“Public places only.” Fine.
“No entering his room.” I hadn’t proposed that.
Her eyes narrowed.
She knew me too well.
“No following him into restricted buildings.” Fine.
“No stealing anything.” This was becoming insulting.
Mayra grinned.
“She really has your number.” I used the idiot buzz again.
— John Mercer turned out to be disappointingly normal.
Twenty-seven.
Brown hair.
Glasses.
Green jacket.
Backpack.
Coffee.
He emerged from Westbridge’s engineering building at 10:42 AM carrying a stack of papers and looking like somebody whose thesis had personally offended him.
I watched from a nearby tree.
This was my first extended daytime operation outside the dorm.
I had already learned several things: the campus was enormous, wind was evil, birds were significantly more frightening when you weighed almost nothing, and humans were disgusting sources of temptation.
Everywhere I flew, heat and carbon dioxide announced bodies.
Blood beneath skin.
Thousands of meals.
The instincts were constant.
Not overwhelming anymore.
But present.
I ignored them.
Consent.
Ethics.
Amelia’s irritating moral victory.
John walked toward the student union.
I followed from above.
Not directly.
Never remain silhouetted against open sky.
I moved tree to lamp to building overhang.
Mosquito first.
Quiet.
Unnoticed.
John checked his phone.
Stopped.
Answered.
“Hey, Sam.” I paused.
Sam?
Probably not Mayra’s Sam.
Common name.
Still funny.
John walked while talking.
“No, I’m still meeting Daniel at noon.” Daniel.
Another name worth remembering if the conversation became relevant.
“No, the samples aren’t done.” Samples?
My attention sharpened.
“Because the lab freezer failed.” Never mind.
Thesis problems.
Normal.
John reached the student union.
Went inside.
I stayed out.
Amelia’s rule.
Public places only was fine.
Following into a huge indoor building full of students would be possible.
But unnecessary.
I knew his schedule from Mayra’s research.
He had an eleven-thirty office hour.
Likely return to engineering.
I waited.
Patience was valuable and deeply boring.
Three ordinary mosquitoes passed near me.
One female locked onto a student below.
Followed.
Landed on his forearm.
Fed.
No ethical crisis.
No complex system.
Just instinct.
I felt jealous.
My life had become significantly more complicated than hers.
Then a sparrow landed six feet away.
I left immediately.
Patience had limits.
— John exited twenty minutes later.
Different coffee.
Same despair.
He headed back toward engineering.
Then stopped at an outdoor trash bin.
Threw away a folded piece of paper.
Continued walking.
I stared.
No stealing.
Amelia’s rule echoed.
But— trash.
Legally abandoned material.
Probably.
I descended.
The paper sat near the top.
I landed.
Lab receipt.
Nothing.
Good behavior rewarded with uselessness.
Wonderful.
I left.
John entered engineering.
The operation had taught me nothing.
Almost.
I was preparing to return when a black SUV pulled into a service lane beside the building.
No university logo.
Dark windows.
Two people exited.
A woman and a man.
Both wore plain clothes.
Not black ARB jackets.
No obvious insignia.
But their movement caught my attention.
Not supernatural.
Disciplined.
They looked around before entering.
Not like visitors.
Not like faculty.
The man carried a hard black case.
The woman had a small badge clipped inside her jacket.
Visible for less than a second.
White letters.
My compound vision was bad for fine text.
I moved closer.
Carefully.
She adjusted the jacket.
Badge hidden.
I landed beneath the overhang.
The man opened the rear door.
Removed another case.
On the side— small printed letters.
A.R.B.
My front legs stopped.
Well.
That simplified things.
ARB was here.
Today.
At Westbridge.
Not seven months ago.
Now.
Why?
I should return.
Immediately.
Report.
Do not investigate strangers.
Especially strangers belonging to secret organizations that appeared around mutant wildlife.
I turned.
Then John Mercer exited the building.
He saw them.
Stopped.
His entire posture changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Fear.
Interesting.
The ARB woman noticed him.
“Mr.
Mercer.” John forced a smile.
“Agent.” Agent.
There.
Government enough for me.
Or something equivalent.
The woman approached.
“We need a few minutes.” John looked toward the building.
“I have office hours.” “They’ve been moved.” His face tightened.
“You can’t keep doing that.” The man with the case watched silently.
John lowered his voice.
“I told you everything last time.” The woman’s expression remained professional.
“Something changed.” My body went cold.
John stared.
“What?” “We’re not discussing it outside.” She gestured toward the engineering building.
John did not move.
Then the woman said quietly: “East Residence.” There.
Confirmation.
John’s face lost color.
I almost missed my grip.
ARB knew.
Not suspected.
Knew.
Something changed beneath our building— and they had detected it.
John whispered: “Again?” The woman nodded once.
“Come inside.” He followed.
Door closed.
I remained under the overhang.
Heart—or equivalent—racing.
Mission objective had just transformed from observing John into: Return home immediately.
I took off.
— Amelia sensed something was wrong before I finished entering the room.
I came through the window gap at full speed.
Rapid triple pulse.
Attention.
Then danger.
High-short-high.
Mayra jumped from her chair.
“What?” Amelia held out her hand.
I landed.
Poorly.
Still excited.
She opened the notebook.
I spelled quickly.
A R B Both women froze.
H E R E Mayra whispered: “On campus?” One buzz.
Yes.
J O H N K N O W Amelia’s face hardened.
“John knows them.” Yes.
A G E N T Mayra looked at Amelia.
“Agent.” Government.
Likely.
I continued.
E A S T R E S I D E N C E Silence.
Amelia understood first.
“They’re here for the anomaly.” Yes.
Mayra sat.
“Oh.” Her conspiracy wall suddenly seemed much less funny.
“They know.” Amelia walked toward the window.
Looked across campus even though engineering was not visible from here.
“What did they say?” Difficult.
I spelled fragments.
S O M E T H I N G C H A N G E D Then: A G A I N Amelia turned sharply.
“Again.” One buzz.
Yes.
John had said it.
Again?
Meaning seven months ago had involved the same problem.
Or similar.
Mayra grabbed the old article.
“So the steam leak wasn’t a steam leak.” Almost certainly.
Amelia paced.
“We need to know what happened then.” Mayra pointed at John Mercer’s name.
“Now can we talk to him?” Not yet.
I buzzed two.
No.
She glared.
“You followed him and found secret agents.” Exactly why direct contact was dangerous.
Amelia nodded.
“If ARB is questioning him, approaching now would put us under the same observation.” Mayra leaned back.
“Great.” She looked at the floor.
“So secret agents know there’s a monster under our dorm.” “We do not know it is a monster.” Mayra stared at her.
“Amelia.” Fair.
Amelia conceded: “Unknown organism.” “Monster.” “Unknown organism.” “Basement monster.” I used the idiot buzz.
Amelia looked grateful.
Mayra looked betrayed.
— The next development came from Jose.
At 1:37 PM, somebody knocked.
Mayra opened the door.
Jose stood outside.
His expression was different.
More serious than usual.
“Hey.” “Hey.” He looked past her.
“Facilities is closing basement access on the east side for a few days.” My attention sharpened.
Amelia stood.
“Why?” Jose hesitated.
“Pest-control issue.” Lie.
Not necessarily his lie.
But a lie.
Mayra crossed her arms.
“What kind?” “Don’t know yet.” “Big?” Jose looked at her.
“Why would you ask that?” Mayra had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.
“Because something bent the grate.” He sighed.
“Look, just stay out of the basement.” We were trying.
Mostly.
“Maintenance is being handled by an outside contractor.” ARB.
Almost certainly.
Jose continued.
“They’ve asked us not to touch vents or access covers until they finish.” Amelia’s eyes narrowed.
“Who is the contractor?” Jose shook his head.
“Don’t know.” Another lie?
Maybe not.
His radio clipped at his belt had been replaced by a different model today.
Interesting.
And there was something else.
A small adhesive patch on his sleeve.
Where a badge might have been temporarily attached.
White residue.
Had ARB spoken to him too?
Mayra said: “Jose.” He looked tired.
“What?” “Are we safe?” The question changed him.
His professional expression cracked.
Only slightly.
He looked at Mayra.
Then Amelia.
Then the room.
Window.
Vent.
Finally: “Keep the vent covers closed.” Not an answer.
Which was an answer.
My body tightened.
Jose stepped backward.
“And if you see unusual insects…” He paused.
“Don’t touch them.” Amelia and I exchanged a glance.
Slightly late.
Jose left.
Mayra closed the door.
Slowly.
Then whispered: “He knows.” Amelia’s expression was grim.
“He knows enough to be worried.” I flew toward the vent.
Still.
Quiet.
No unusual movement.
The problem was being contained.
Maybe.
ARB had arrived.
They might seal the basement.
Remove the organism.
Problem solved.
We could return to ordinary supernatural dorm life.
Sugar.
Cultivation.
Evolution.
No underground heartbeats.
That should have relieved me.
Instead— I felt uneasy.
Why?
Because ARB had been here seven months ago.
And the problem had returned.
Maybe they hadn’t solved it.
Maybe they couldn’t.
Or maybe— they had done something worse.
— That night, Room 317 remained quiet.
Too quiet.
No insects emerged from the vent.
None.
Not one.
Mayra noticed.
“Isn’t that good?” Maybe.
I hovered near the grate.
The air coming through felt different.
Less airflow.
Probably sealed below.
Amelia cultivated lightly.
No strong aura.
She did not want to attract anything while ARB was inside the building.
Smart.
At 11:18— the temperature dropped.
Not Amelia.
The room.
Three degrees over less than a minute.
Mayra checked the sensor.
“What?” Amelia stood.
I felt it.
Energy.
Not cold energy.
The anomaly.
A pulse rising through the walls.
The Codex appeared.
— Environmental energy spike detected.
— Then— THUMP.
The building vibrated.
Mayra’s face paled.
“ARB is down there right now.” We all understood the implication.
Something was happening.
Another heartbeat.
THUMP.
Then a sound from outside.
Distant.
Muffled.
An alarm?
No.
Sirens.
Campus service road.
Vehicles moving.
Amelia reached the window.
Mayra joined her.
I flew onto the glass.
Below, two black SUVs raced toward East Residence.
Then another.
No police lights.
No public emergency.
ARB.
People exited.
Fast.
One person carried a long silver case.
Another wore dark protective gear.
This was no pest-control visit.
Mayra whispered: “Oh, shit.” Agreed.
Then every light in East Residence went out.
Instantly.
Our room plunged into darkness.
Mayra yelped.
Emergency lights activated in the hallway.
Red glow beneath the door.
Amelia’s eyes sharpened.
The Codex flashed: — Energy surge increasing.
— THUMP.
Stronger.
Dust fell from the vent.
Then the university emergency speaker crackled.
A calm automated voice: “Attention residents.
A utility failure has been reported in East Residence Hall.
Please remain in your rooms until further notice.” Utility failure.
Sure.
Mayra looked at Amelia.
“That’s bullshit.” Correct.
Then— from beneath the floor— something screamed.
Not human.
Not insect.
A deep vibrating shriek that traveled through concrete and pipe.
The window rattled.
Mayra backed away.
My wings spread instinctively.
Amelia’s hand filled with cold light.
Outside— the black-clad ARB agents stopped moving for one second.
Every one of them looked toward the building.
They had heard it too.
Then the Codex displayed a new warning.
Not red.
Black.
— UNKNOWN BIOLOGICAL ENTITY HAS ENTERED ACTIVE STATE — I stared.
Active.
Not awakened.
Not born.
Active.
Meaning it had existed like this already.
Dormant.
Waiting.
The scream came again.
Longer.
Angrier.
Something crashed far below.
Mayra whispered: “What do we do?” Amelia looked at me.
I looked at her.
For once, neither of us wanted to investigate.
That was how I knew the situation was serious.
Amelia extinguished the frost in her hand.
“We stay here.” Good.
Mayra blinked.
“Really?” “Yes.” Amazing.
Personal growth for everyone.
Then somebody pounded on our door.
Three times.
Hard.
Mayra jumped.
We all froze.
A man’s voice came from the hallway.
“Federal response.
Open the door.” Nobody moved.
Federal.
ARB.
Were they evacuating?
Searching?
Mayra looked at Amelia.
Amelia looked at me.
The knock came again.
“Open the door.” Amelia whispered: “Hide.” I didn’t argue.
I shot into the curtain.
Mayra moved the communication notebook into a drawer.
The mosquito enclosure remained visible.
Normal enough.
Amelia opened the door.
A man stood outside wearing a dark protective jacket.
White insignia on the chest.
A.R.B.
Behind him— another agent.
Woman.
The same one who had spoken to John Mercer.
Her eyes swept across the room.
Desk.
Beds.
Window.
Vent.
Then— the little mesh enclosure.
She stopped.
I became perfectly still inside the curtain.
The woman pointed toward it.
“You keeping insects in here?” Mayra’s face performed a miracle.
She smiled.
“Just one mosquito.” The agent stared.
“Why?” Mayra glanced at Amelia.
Then said: “Emotional support.” I almost died.
Amelia’s face remained perfectly blank.
The ARB woman looked between them.
There was a long silence.
Then: “Keep it contained.” Mayra nodded solemnly.
“Absolutely.” The agent moved on.
I could not believe that had worked.
The male agent addressed Amelia.
“We’re evacuating this floor.” Amelia’s expression changed.
“You said remain in rooms.” “Situation changed.” Of course it had.
“Take essentials only.
You’re being moved to West Residence temporarily.” Mayra grabbed her backpack.
Amelia did not move.
“Why?” The agent’s voice hardened.
“Utility hazard.” Another lie.
Amelia stared at him.
He stared back.
Neither blinked.
Then the building shook.
Hard.
The light fixture swung.
Something below struck concrete.
The ARB woman’s hand went to the weapon beneath her jacket.
“Now.” Amelia nodded.
Argument over.
She stepped back.
Mayra grabbed her bag.
Then looked toward the curtain.
Me.
Problem.
Evacuation meant leaving Room 317.
In public.
With ARB everywhere.
Amelia walked toward the mosquito enclosure.
Opened the tiny mesh door.
Placed one hand nearby.
I understood.
Absolutely not.
I stared from the curtain.
Her eyes narrowed.
Plenteaful.
No sound.
But I knew.
Mayra whispered: “He’s not going in there.” The ARB agent outside looked toward her.
Mayra recovered.
“My laptop.” Excellent.
Amelia kept her hand near the enclosure.
I had two options.
Hide on Amelia.
Risk detection.
Or— enter Kevin’s House.
I looked at the tiny wooden bench.
The stupid sign.
The cotton bed.
My dignity prepared for death.
I flew across the room.
Entered the enclosure.
Mayra zipped it shut.
The ARB woman looked inside.
Saw me sitting on the wooden bench.
Just a mosquito.
Pet mosquito.
Ridiculous enough to be harmless.
Perfect cover.
I looked at Amelia through the mesh.
She was fighting a smile.
Long high buzz.
Idiot.
The agent frowned.
“What was that?” Mayra lifted the enclosure.
“He gets cranky.” The woman stared at me.
I stared back.
Then she turned away.
“Move.” We entered the hallway.
Students filled the corridor.
Confused.
Half dressed.
Carrying backpacks.
ARB agents directed them toward the stairs.
Emergency lighting painted everything red.
I sat inside the enclosure.
Watching through mesh.
For the first time— I was entering the outside world openly.
Not as Plenteaful.
Not as a reincarnated evolutionary anomaly.
As Kevin.
The emotional-support mosquito.
This might be the greatest humiliation of my second life.
Then the building shook again.
And somewhere below us— the thing beneath Westbridge screamed.
My humiliation could wait.