The Substitutes: Contract

First Contact

"Sam, I need you to dispose of a rat."

A rare and surprising sentence, for two reasons. Firstly, that his sister had wandered downstairs and made a non-monosyllabic demand that didn't involve food, and secondly that a rat had made its way inside her room to begin with. Being sat out on the edge of suburbia where greenery was permitted to claim territory alongside the pavements, Samuel Bellamy was accustomed to the odd form of wildlife settling down in the family garden to rest before taking off again. But the unifying element of the untamed animals was that they were universally birds, with the occasional stray neighbourhood cat on the prowl after such winged treats. Vermin were unheard off in their entirety, either because they were smart enough to remain out of view or because the neighbours owned a rather excitable dog that jumped at the chance to drag them out of their holes by their tails. And while he could hear lonely howling through the walls, kidnapping your neighbour's dog is usually frowned upon regardless of the best intentions. And so his homework was abandoned in favour of rummaging through the cupboard under the stairs until he dug out a long-disused fishing net. Pythagoras and his dreary theorem could wait five minutes while he took care of the housework.

"Wait here a minute, I'll call you once I've let it outside."

"Do it quick. I'm tired of its complaining."

"It talks?"

"It doesn't stop."

"I see. In any case, stay out of the biscuit tin. Dinner won't be long."

"It's two hours away. I promise nothing."

To Sara's credit, she waited until he was out of sight before the sounds of disobedience followed him up the stairs from the kitchen. This was probably a plan to get him out of the way for the sake of indulging her sweet tooth, although for her to break from schedule and interrupt her precious gaming time meant that there very well could be an intruder of some kind.

That said; there was very little chance that any rat, real or made-up, could actually talk and she'd just spent the past five minutes letting it squeak away pretending to hold a conversation while she played. Which wasn't totally out of the realm of possibility for her usual fantasies, but added a concerning wrinkle to the problem. Sam sighed as he reached the landing, taking care not to scrape the net against the lanky, raven-haired boy stalking alongside him from within the hanging mirror. He'd have to make sure she hadn't let herself be bitten in the midst of oblivious button-tapping or to appease her new friend. If she had, he'd have to look up what diseases rats carried, how to treat an injury from a wild animal, how to properly disinfect an area contaminated by vermin, check for droppings or if it had invited family along with it, all of which would need to be completed before his mother arrived home and suffered a heart attack from the idea that her expertly-crafted abode had in some way been dirtied. And if this was all make believe as part of a snack heist, he'd have to look into learning how to cook instead, as waiting until seven in the evening was clearly becoming too long for his growing sister to wait after school. Not that either was a problem of any great magnitude. At fifteen he had plenty of time to dedicate to learning regardless of subject. In the short trip to Sara's poster-branded den his mental do-to list had extended by three pages, but as he reached the edge of the door, worried mutterings from within scribbled over every entry and set the whole lot up in flames.

"If she continues to refuse... no, I must be steadfast. The Prime is enduring far more than this mere setback. A new strategy is required. I've appealed to her desires, and the results are more than substantial. These are basic creatures, a system that clearly distributes rewards and punishment based on her actions should be more than sufficient to mould future behaviour. They're already aware of the phenomenon, I just need to come up with a suitable deterrent to apply the theory. Threatening to withhold information? No, that depends on..."