Oscar Kanuer

Oscar Canuer was the embodiment of controlled strength, and Hummingbird was his shadow, an undercover agent whose long hunt had failed time after time. Neither poison nor "accident" had worked. Now, in the empty gym that evening, she had her last chance.

She crept up behind him as he was doing deadlifts. The neurotoxin needle was ready. At that moment, his back rose, and two dark, glistening tentacles erupted from beneath his skin. One smoothly lifted a bottle from the floor, bringing it to his lips; the other wiped his sweat with a towel. Oscar didn't interrupt his exercises.

Only after finishing the approach did he turn around with a playful smile. —Well, dear? It seems you took a little too long to approach me. Were you waiting for me to get tired?

The hummingbird, paralyzed by shock, retreated. —I... I don't...

"Oh, don't be modest," he retorted, his tentacles smoothly following his movements. "But when you hunt a predator, there's a chance it might turn out to be... a different species."

“Why?” she breathed out, clenching her fists. "Why did you try to kill me? Or why do I have these cute little gadgets?" He grinned, leaning so close that his breath scorched her skin. "Evolution is a strange thing. Some people need wings, while others need extra arms to avoid being distracted by trivialities."

His gaze suddenly became icy and purposeful. "Tell your people: Oscar Kanuer is not a target. He is a player. And the game is just beginning. And the rules," the tentacle gently pulled the bracelet with the needle from her numb fingers, "are now mys to set."

He turned and walked away, his tentacles sliding under his shirt and disappearing. Hummingbird was left alone, realizing that the hunt hadn't just failed—she had suddenly switched sides, and the world was now ruled by a different, incomprehensible logic.