Summer without you is as cold as winter. Winter without you is even colder.
Despite the long time in which he'd been carrying and handling the photograph, the penciled caption on its rear side was still visible. One the opposite side, the likeness of Vanessa Ives silently stared up at his melancholic brown eyes, framed by the dark circles of one not sleeping well. Sitting inside a black Kia Sportage, he silently regarded the photograph a minute longer before tucking it into one of his brown hoodie's secret pockets. Climbing out of the vehicle, he noted he had only trees and fog to greet him at the trail-head. Most days that wouldn't bother him much, but he still couldn't help wishing for some company. Maybe the Winchester brothers, who'd tipped Blue Umbrella agent Chris Redfield about an incident that had occurred last night.
Being Arthur's mentor, Redfield had deployed the young man to the coordinates where he currently found himself. Cold air brushed against his grey beanie and cargo pants, as well as his facial hair. A tactical shotgun and M4A1 hung from his backpack; from his belt hung a modified M1911 and a silver knife Emmaline Dawson had given him several years ago. All in all, the load-out was little different from the ones Arthur had carried while working for SHIELD, the Strategic Homeland Division, Task Force 141, and Ghost Recon. But at the moment, he was a Blue Umbrella agent on his first solo field assignment. Unless one counted the Skell Technologies drone hovering several feet away from him.
Unhooking the shotgun from the backpack, he double-checked to make sure it was loaded before taking his first nervous steps into the woods. No innocent pleasure hike was this; his directive was to verify alleged signs of a certain cryptid's existence. Going by Blue Umbrella's intel, said cryptid might be the Rake, or a wendigo like the ones Arthur had seen prowling the hinterlands of Canada. The thought made him tighten his grip on his weapon, except for the trigger. No need to fire unless threatened, and at the moment he was in no danger that he could discern. So said his Eagle Sense, which never lied. But peril still might be lurking over every hill, behind every tree, in every ravine. Was that just the ancient animal attitude of his body talking, or something more? Whatever it was, it didn't stop him from taking repeated long strides as only a person over six feet in height could; a trail formed behind his hiking boots as the feet they protected bore their owner deeper into woods that he doubted were as innocent as some might think. The presence of his weapons was, however, some comfort.
The drone flew farther ahead, gaining altitude but not enough to disappear from sight. Then again, maybe its producers had fitted it with cloaking tech it was currently declining to use. That suited Arthur just fine; he didn't need the drone disappearing on him. Especially now that he found a series of human footprints, only hours old and smaller than his; the wide spacing suggested the person was running. From what became apparent enough; the drone employed a holographic display to showcase its own findings.
A series of large footprints, whose appearance suggested a humanoid but inhuman creature, slogged out of a deeper part of the woods and intercepted the human trail. Going off the established trail for a moment, Arthur followed the inhuman prints; whatever had made them was going about on all fours before walking on two legs to intercept the human victim.
Going back to the human prints, he noticed the impression of a human body on the ground. Evidently the creature had lashed out with one of its large clawed hands, knocking the human down before driving its claws through said human's torso. Large bloodstains were still visible on rocks, tree trunks, and the earth; no human could lose that much blood and live. He could only imagine what that must've been like: piercing and tearing and flesh accompanied by a profuse loss of blood that had been giving life only moments earlier. Additional depressions on the ground indicated the victim crawled for a while before the creature finished her off and dragged her corpse away. Creature footprints and bloodstains led back into the deeper part of the woods, which one would need nerves of steel to enter. So many stories revolved around that territory, but nobody knew how much of the lore was true. The name of that part of the forest, at least, was no mystery: Dead End. It wasn't hard to see why. Either the creature was just sloppy, or wanted outsiders to know this forest was perilous in the extreme.
The mental imagery he based on his examination of the clues wasn't doing much for his nerves; lately he'd been tormented by disturbing dreams in which the alien symbiote Venom tormented him by claiming Vanessa had never really loved him. That she considered him "lower than the maggots and worms beneath her feet." Whether that was mere paranoia or a legitimate concern, he had no idea. And Vanessa wasn't around to explain herself. He still yearned for her company; few were better suited than she for situations like this. But some other names crossed his mind: Stephen Strange, Robbie Reyes, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester. Sherlock Holmes might find a case like this intriguing, but he was more accustomed to cases where the killers were mortal humans. Not cryptids that might be from other dimensions for all Arthur knew.
His Celtic ancestors had their own holiday for marking the day when inter-dimensional barriers were at their weakest after faltering across September and October. Of late he'd been suspecting his forebears were right all along; maybe walls between worlds really did weaken and allow all manner of creatures into Midgard. It might explain the presence of Pennywise in Derry. And it might explain the presence of entities like the one whose prints Arthur again studied in silence as his drone passed on the findings to Chris Redfield. A reply might be a while in coming, and at the moment having nothing to do was far from appealing.
Watching the woods with no small amount of caution, Arthur pondered what to do. His directive likely entailed, or at least implied, seeing the creature for himself. A creature that may or may not be nocturnal. Nothing in his instructions said anything about engaging it, whether to kill or capture it. He might only have to get some photographs or video footage to present to his superiors. They, more than at least some people in the general public, would be more inclined to accept his story. One could easily find alleged footage of Bigfoot and other cryptids on the Web, but not everyone took the footage seriously. If he leaked any intel he got, he would no doubt get legions of believers and detractors. Then again, spreading the word might get it to other people who, like Blue Umbrella, had the resources to mobilize against whatever lurked in Dead End; the monster or monsters could be crushed through sheer numbers. Arthur wasn't exceptionally strong or smart, so he could easily see the appeal.
He silently drew on his mental reserve of people who were more intelligent, courageous and strong than he was: Selene and her fellow vampires, Phil Coulson and other SHIELD agents, the Avengers, the Winchesters, John Price and the various soldiers with whom he'd worked. And last but not least, Vanessa Ives. In a situation like this, they wouldn't back down. They'd plunge into Dead End to find the truth and end whatever threats lurked in that forbidden territory. They might do so alone or with allies, but the drone was the closest thing Arthur had to an ally at the moment. None were coming; all signs indicated he'd have to make the call on his own. Without fear, there could be no courage. With that in mind, he made sure his firearms were loaded before peering down the hiking trail. It snaked among the trees before plunging into a ravine that lead to the forest's darker part, the one from which the killer creature's trail had emerged. He could go back; perhaps nobody could blame him. Or he could take the plunge; from that there would be no turning back, in a sense. But he had survived countless dangerous encounters with monsters, many of which were humans. Holding his shotgun at the ready and directing his drone to fly ahead, he took a step. Then another, and another, descending into Dead End all the while.
