Author’s Notes: This story contains non-graphic adult content (only a form of sexuality, nothing explicit), non-graphic violence (fights/people being struck, nothing explicit), non-graphic adult situations (people dying among other things, nothing explicit) blood, some language and crude humor. Think of it like an Extreme Teen Rating.
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The Other Society
Chapter One

Chicago, Illinois. The windy city, a place, well known to all Americans and those around the world. But like every city, it held its flaws, having its own share of government corruption, environmental down falls and poor economy system. But most of all, it held one thing that every city in America held, that one thing that every single city all across the map held on numerous occasions, something that occurred so often it was a part of an American's day to day life. It was read about in the paper, talked over on the internet and watched on the news: Crime.

Some places held a higher crime rate than others. Chicago however was in the top ten of crime rates. People were raped, mugged, beaten, murdered and executed on a daily basis. It happened so often that people just ignored the soaring crime rates, and if one ever did witness a crime, they would act as if it never happened, fearing if they ever reported the heinous act that they would be sought after by the murderer and killed themselves. It was a dog-eat-dog place. Everyone had to look after their own self. Some people even took it upon themselves to look after the ones they loved. Making sure their beloved remained out of harm’s way.

So, if two lovers passing by, holding hands, lost in each other’s embrace ever came across cries for help from a dark alleyway, late at night, they would be sure to avoid that alley and act as if they heard nothing.

Some would call the police, but only as an anonymous caller.

That is exactly what was happening in one dark alley, on one cold, cloudy night.

On a single strip of bare road, lit by orange fluorescence street lights, the curbs and sidewalks littered with trash, vehicles left abandoned on the side of the road and the sides of buildings decorated with spray paintings, the sounds of running engines, horns blaring and sirens could be heard nearby, almost as if they were right around the corner. Two people passing by made sure to walk across the street, avoiding the cries of pain they heard emanating from an alley.

Inside the alley was an elderly man lying on his side on the oil-stained and trash-littered, smelly cement. But this wasn't any ordinary man. Not like any street punk, not someone dressed in a business suit or casual clothing. This man wore a white lab coat, his wrinkled face clean shaven with silvery hair on the sides of his head leaving a shiny bald spot on the top of his peach fleshy head. His glasses fell from his face when he was rammed in the rib cage by a large, dog-like head, hurling him into the air and slamming his back onto the brick wall of a building where he fell to the ground in a pain-filled scream. His eyes closed and face written in severe pain.

The animal that hit him was at least three to four times his size. Enormous and huge, it carried its massive bulk on four legs but was far too big to be a dog. It wasn't some large cat, not like a Tiger or Lion because it carried itself with meaning and precision, like it was intelligent. And it wasn't a Bear because its body was far too lean for that, looking somewhat similar to having the torso of a human, but its back and hind legs were proportioned improperly, the back having looked to be padded down with something large and big, like a bag or blanket, and legs that were shaped like a horse.

"Please," the man pleaded tiredly, "I'll do anything you ask. Just stop. Please." His words were soon followed by tears.

The strange animal, seen only as a dark silhouette, snarled deeply, its lips curling pushing up folds of skin onto its large fleshy muzzle showing yellow stained teeth, then turned. A large and thick tail trailing behind it, it disappeared into the shadows. Moments later, strange popping noises were heard. Noises that sounded wet and sharp, like bones breaking and ligaments popping.

Minutes later, a dark man walked out of the darkness. He was tall, having thick calves and thighs, a chunky but muscular stomach and a big broad chest on a husky bone frame. His thick shoulders enveloped in pure muscle as were the upper parts of his arms, his entire face long and square with dark hair that trailed down and past his shoulders. The only thing that stuck out of his dark, shadowy figure was his eyes. It was the whiteness of his Retinas, surrounding his black pupils that almost glowed in the darkness. He walked to the doctor and squatted by his side then spoke, his words slow and deep. "Who do you work for?"

The doctor grunted, "A company called Zwatimy."

The man's eyes narrowed, looking somewhat distressed. "Do you know what that words means?" he asked.

"No. Honestly. I don't. They're just the people I work for."

"Are you a front for this company, or do you just work in secrecy?" He then asked.

"In secret."

"In secret from us?"

The man nodded and replied. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I, I can't tell you. They'll kill me for sure."

An inhuman growl rumbled from the depths of his throat, and sounded every bit infuriated. "I'll kill you if you don't tell me." He threatened.

"Then kill me. I would rather die by your hands then theirs."

"Even when I kill you, this will not bring any honor to your death."

The doctor out of breath, he looked straight into the man's eyes. "I'm not looking for honor."

Raising his right hand above his head, his hand formed into a fist. "Then so be it."

Just then, a door opened to the man's right, enveloping him in white light. It revealed him to be a middle-aged man, totally naked and his ripped, muscular toned body to be completely black. Just pitch black, like black paint had been doused over his entire body giving him an eerie, inhuman demonic look, his black hair trailing down to his buttocks.

He turned to the right and came face to face with a pale-skinned, older man who stood leaning on the door frame. He too was tall and well muscled, standing just a few inches under the door frame and dressed in loose-fitted blue jeans and a gray-colored T-shirt in tan hiking boots, wearing black leather gloves, his short black hair cropped nicely along his head with a white-colored plastic breathing mask fitted firmly over his mouth and nose, a single scar running horizontally over the ridge of his long and round-tipped nose and one on the right side of his square cheek running vertically under the mask. Though the sight of his muscular and tall body held menacing features, his stance portrayed differently. Leaning somewhat weakly onto the door frame, his dark eyes half closed and flesh extremely pale, almost white. The man looked sick.

The black-skinned man stood, still looking to the one at the door frame, ignoring the doctor. "You should not have come. You're too weak for this."

"Come on, give me a break." The pale-skinned man began to say, his voice portraying weakness and amusement. "You know I had to see this for myself. I had to take a look at those blood samples before they were removed."

The black-skinned man said nothing for some moments before speaking. "And are they any of our concern?"

"No, nothing special, just the average blood samples."

"Then you wasted your strength for nothing." his voice carrying anger and concern.

"At least I got outside. I'm tired of being cooped up all day long." The pale-skinned man chuckled slightly.

"That is out of concern toward you. You haven't the strength to be doing any of this for the time being."

"Will you stop it?" The pale-skinned man replied in an annoyed manner, his face tightening, pushing dark lines across his cheeks, under his eyes and across his brow. "I found something interesting though. The line from his money being wired here didn't stop here. It seems he was using this place only as a cover. He's been sending it to some place in Colorado."

"That sounds strange." His black face intrigued, then asked, "He hasn't even reached outside of Illinois yet, and already he has a buyer in Colorado?"

"I'm wondering if it is even a buyer at all. Mali has been a thorn in our side for some time, and I'm wondering what he is up to. He has hidden stuff from us before, but nothing like this. I want to send some groups out that way. See if anything is out of ordinary or can catch any scents. Can you do this for me?"

The black-skinned man nodded. "Yes, of course."

The face of the pale-skinned man livened up some, almost looking like he had smiled under his mask. "Thanks."

"There is no need to thank me. Just tell me what you wish and it will be done."

"Will you knock it off with the formal crap?" A sharp, male voice snapped callously from the alley making the two look in its general direction, the voice emanating from where the black-skinned man just emerged from. "Have either of you notice that doctor is escaping?"

They looked to their opposite side and noticed the doctor trying to hobble his way to freedom by heading to the street.

The black-skinned man turned to the darkness and ordered very plainly, not sounding the least bit interested. "Then catch him."

"With pleasure." The voice replied in gratification.

A black blur flew passed the two quickly and gracefully and was on the doctor's back in seconds, a colossal-sized, leather clad hand reaching down to the doctor's head and was completely encased in the hand causing the doctor to scream in terror. "I got you now." The dark human figure said in delight, his hand so big his fingertips reached the doctor's eyes.

"Don't play around." The pale-skinned man ordered, "Make it a clean kill. You still have to help the others clean up this place."

"Aw, come on." The voice pleaded childishly, "Not even a little? My muscles are just itching to tear him limb from limb."

The pale-skinned man's face tightened in anger and nearly yelled. "Do as you’re told." His face flushed all of a sudden with a sickly look, brought his hand to his face holding it, swayed and fell forward.

The black-skinned man gasped in shock and eyes widened as he ran and caught the man in his arms just before he hit the ground.

Face against his bare chest. He groaned faintly and replied. "My head, it hurts."

Now the black-skinned man looked concerned and worried. "You have exerted your energy. You need to leave this place." That said, he shifted his body along with the fallen man, placed the left arm across his shoulders then lifted while grunting and stood to his feet having the pale-skinned man cradled in his arms like a child and started walking further down into the alley. Their sizes compared to each other, the black-skinned man was much taller and thicker in muscle and body mass.

"Father," The figure holding the doctor said, the doctor meanwhile too petrified to even scream for help or move.

The black-skinned man stopped and turned his head where he could see the male figure. "What?"

"I did not mean to upset him." the figure carrying concern with the slightest hint of fear.

"It is not entirely your fault. He knew the consequences of venturing so far outside. I guess it is somewhat my fault as well for bidding him to stay inside. He may not have come here if I had let him done something outside."

The pale-skinned man groaned in pain then squirmed. "God, my head, it hurts. It won't stop pounding." His groans turned to loud moans and whimpers of pain. "It feels like I'm going to . . ." Jerking suddenly, nearly being dropped by the black-skinned man, he shifted in the arms, turned his head, yanked off his mask and threw up all over the man's right arm and onto the cement.

The black-skinned man not showing any hint of being grossed out by being vomited on but now looked even more worried for what had just happened.

The head of the pale-skinned man hanging off the arm, his mask dropping from his grasp, hit and bounced on the ground. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to throw up on you."

"It is all right." The black-skinned man said sympathetically then shifted his attention back to the one holding the doctor and spoke, his words inserting with every bit of authority. "Just finish the job and get back home. We can talk later."

The figure nodded in compliance as the largest of the three men silently slipped into the alley, still carrying the sickly fellow.

Turning his attention to the doctor, he knelt and leaned down so close his mouth was right beside the doctor's ear. A shred of light shining onto the figure's head revealing he to be dark-skinned, a large black tribal tattoo on the back of his head forming around to the front and spiraling under and over his eyes forming into two curled points on each eye, his head bald but one section of hair on the top that was pulled back into a pony tail, his black eyes holding an insane look and smiled the same way to the doctor. "Good-bye, dear doctor."

Shutting his eyes tightly, tears rolled down the doctor's cheeks and spoke very quickly. "Forgive me."

Then the figure leaned back, reached his other arm the doctor's neck and jerked both arms.

In one swift twist, the doctor's neck snapped and body went limp. The figure releasing his grip, letting the body drop then stood and looked down to the carcass in an immature moan, his shoulders slouched and head hung before whining. "I never get to have fun anymore."

Without another word, the man turned from the body and disappeared into the darkness of the alley.