The Illicitor's Code #1

In The Hague, February 15th, 2100.

The flashes of camera lights from dozens of journalists crowding the street towards the entrance of the international court building almost blinded him, but the old man ignores them. With quick and confident steps, he ensured that his old legs could walk step by step.

"Doctor ZA, as someone who created monsters that almost destroyed the human population, did you ever regret?" asked a journalist, along with others that also intercepting the old man with ridiculous questions.

"Can you tell us what motivated your decision to create monsters that only prey on humans, Doctor ZA?"

The old man snorted. For a moment, he let the police who escorting him clear the journalists from his path—until a captivating question caught his ear.

"Doctor ZA, Can you tell us the story behind—"

"Story? Oh, I love telling a story," the old man laughed, raising one arm to silence the journalists as he spoke. "It's a story about—what's it called?—ah, a world heading towards the end. The cause is not global warming or environmental damage due to microplastic waste—maybe half a century later?—but the emergence of monsters that prey on humans. Hah, imagine that! They're huge, with many legs; each as hard as concrete, very strong, very sharp, and very very venomous too! These creatures were created to traverse continents, quickly, almost without being noticed.

"However, just like these creatures sudden appearance, superpowers also randomly and unpredictably emerged in some people worldwide every week. These powers could be sensed by monsters from hundreds miles away, endangering the lives of all the people with super powers. That's why countries created a highly secure place to protect them. However, most of these chosen people took years to master the superpowers that they got. Until they were ready, the country had already prepared special military forces to hunt monsters and prevent them from wiping out the human population too soon. And this special military force is called... Venator.

"Oh! Oh! Don't forget the Venator's assistants called Illicitor—they whose superpowers are considered not valuable enough for the country to protect but can attract monster attention due to their super powers. They are the ones who have to ensure these monsters chase them into the traps prepared by Venator every day." The old man smirked for a moment. "Do you like stories like this? If so, stay with me. There's the life story of one Illicitor that has always been my favorite..."

*****

Ten years ago, in Toronto, October 5th, 2090...

Ding! Dong!

The sound of the front bell cutting through the silence of the night, and Dim-Dim, who was busy tending to wooden cages behind his house—housing four birds and a wounded wild fox—hurriedly ran past the side of the house towards the front gate. Jingling sounds came from his pocket while he was running.

"Yes!?" he shouted at the gate. His voice is high-pitched like an average 11-year-old boy.

He opened the gate, which creaked like a witch's laughter because its hinges were rusty, and an old man with protruding cheeks and forehead behind it immediately handed Dim-Dim a black plastic bag containing two styrofoam boxes. A delicious aroma wafted from the package.

Dim-Dim reached into his pocket and handed the old man a bill and some coins he collected every morning from a can near his mother's bed.

"Thanks, Mr. Loghan!" he said cheerfully. "What's this?"

"As usual. Poutine and cheeseburgers," Mr. Loghan replied. In the dim light like now, his sour face looked even more sour.

The old man pointed with his skinny index finger at Dim-Dim's barefoot; they were covered in dust, with mud blackening the bottom of his nails. "You're lucky your mother is blind, boy. If she could see that, she would scold and beat you."

Dim-Dim seemed uncomfortable but didn't say anything. His mind had returned to the birds and the wild fox he cared for in the muddy backyard. Now, the bandage on the birds' wings was already being changed, and the hind leg of the fox had been given a temporary cast, but besides the broken bones, it seemed the fox was suffering from worms too.

"Why didn't you take her to the hospital for surgery, boy?" Mr. Loghan suddenly asked. And for a moment, Dim-Dim thought the old man was reading his mind.

"Yes, Sir?" Dim-Dim asked.

"That brain tumor in your mother's head. Why didn't you take her to the hospital for surgery?" Mr. Loghan repeated, sounding impatient. "Your older brother—what's his name?—Ah, Damian. Doesn't he earn a lot as a Venator, Boy? Even after risking his life for that crazy job?"

Dim-Dim shook his head. "It's not about the m—money, Sir," he said, a little bit stuttering. The young boy disagreed with the old man's term 'crazy job,' but couldn't express his personal opinion. "My older brother says there's a 50% risk for the brain tumor removal surgery. We both just want our mother to live, Sir. It's okay if she can't see."

The old man snorted. "And Karina just wants to keep you both alive. Never mind. I'll go back to my house now. Enjoy your dinner."

And after that, Mr. Loghan hopped on his bike and headed towards his rickety house across the street. His facial expression looked agitated.

Dim-Dim seems confuse as he gazed at the old man's back for a moment, then closed the gate. He placed the styroafoam boxes on the cracked and overgrown with weeds steps leading to the front door, then washed his dirty feet at the tap next to the house. After ensuring his feet were clean, he got in the house and entered the kitchen. While arranging poutine and burgers on plastic plates, Dim-Dim could hear voices and sounds from the TV in the living room.

"Darling, is that you in the kitchen? Did Mr. Loghan bring us dinner?" his mother asked from the living room, apparently having heard Dim-Dim in the kitchen.

"Yes, he brought us dinner, Ma!" Dim-Dim replied, shouting from the kitchen. He quickened what he was doing and then brought their dinner to the living room. Carefully, he put the plates on the coffee table.

His mother, wrapped in his late father's thick jacket, quickly adjusted her sitting posture. "It smells so good!" she commented.

"Agreed!" exclaimed Dim-Dim, running back to the kitchen and returning with a bowl of warm water. "Wash your hands here, Mama," he said gently. Carefully, he guided his mother's right hand toward the bowl. "One more," he said, then reached for her left hand.

"Thank you, dear," his mother said. She briefly kissed his hair. "You must have learned it from Damian."

Dim-Dim didn't respond. He then sat down on the sofa next to his mother. The TV was showing a dishwashing soap commercial. "What were you watching, Mama?" he asked, before remembering that his mother couldn't 'watch'. "I-I mean, what were you listening to, Mama?"

"I don't know. Basketball game?" his mother replied. Her gray eyes glancing at the television, looking uncertain. "Isn't it almost nine o'clock?"

Dim-Dim glanced at the wall clock and startled. "It's already half-past ten o'clock, Mama." He grabbed the remote from the table and quickly changed the channel.

A second later the TV was already showing images of monsters running in the desert at night, seemingly recorded using satellites. The monsters were the size of African elephants, with dozens of legs and sharp spikes.

The video was followed by a news anchor's voice. "... Now we can see the results of the advancement test. Unfortunately, among two hundred Class B Venators, only four Venators have passed the advancement test and been promoted to Class A. The President, in his speech last Sunday night, admitted to being very disappointed."

The television images shifted to a stage where the president was delivering a speech, and Dim-Dim cheered when he saw Damian among the four Venators standing behind the president. "Wooo-hooo!" he exclaimed. His mom joined in cheering beside him, even though she couldn't see what Dim-Dim saw, and hugged him tightly.

"Your brother passed the advancement test, didn't he?" his mother asked.

Dim-Dim excitedly nodding, and now gazed at Damian, who stood awkwardly. He was the biggest man in the group that passed the test. Standing at about 6 feet 3 inches tall, he has sun-kissed tan skin, neck as thick as a bull's, and arms more muscular than any adult's thighs. When he was finally asked to speak, Dim-Dim immediately increased the TV volume with the remote.

"The test was tough. My friends and I honestly didn't think we could pass it," Damian's hoarse voice echoed in the living room.

"As the Venator with the highest test scores, have you prepared yourself mentally to face monsters of higher rank, Mr. Damisch?"

Damian nodded again. "I—we, Venators—must be ready," he replied without intending to brag. "There's a human population that we have to protect."

"Is there a message you would like to say to those who may be waiting for you to come home?" someone who is unseen from the screen asked, and suddenly Damian's eyes focused on the camera. It felt as if his older brother was looking directly at Dim-Dim, and Dim-Dim's breath paused for a moment.

"I can't come home," Damian said. Dim-Dim's heart sank upon hearing this. Additionally, there was a gasp heard all around. Dim-Dim also realized his mother was also surprised. "We Venators are assigned to hunt monsters until the end of our lives. Only monsters can bring me to meet my family, but I don't expect there to be any monsters in Toronto."