The lights buzz softly overhead. The green room smells faintly of coffee and old upholstery. Marlion adjusts the collar of his crisp suit in front of the mirror. His tie is red—always red—the color of strength, authority, and perhaps defiance.

  Behind him, a studio assistant flutters about, dabbing powder on his forehead and checking sound levels. He doesn’t flinch.

  “Five minutes, Mr. Freeman,” the assistant chirps before leaving.

  Marlion exhales slowly. The mirror reflects a confident, commanding face, but his eyes are bloodshot. He straightens his shoulders anyway.

  The door opens slightly, and the stage manager pokes his head in. “You’re up in sixty.”

  Marlion nods and gives one last look in the mirror. His reflection looks ready. Unshakable. But deep in his gut, something flickers—fatigue, maybe… or regret.

  “Good evening, patriots, and welcome to The Raccoon Report! I’m your host, Chad Patriot—proudly unfiltered, unapologetically American—and tonight we’ve got a real hero joining us. He’s the man standing between us and the chaos from beyond the stars—the one, the only, Sheriff Marlion Freeman!”

  “Thank you, thank you.” As the crowd cheers, Marlion forms his hand into a mock pistol and fires it playfully.

  “Great to have you back on the show,” Chad says, pulling the mic a little closer. “Tell us—how do you stay grounded doing the kind of hard work that keeps America safe?”

  “Well, Chad, when you believe in what you’re doing—protecting the good people of this country—it doesn’t feel like work. It feels like duty.”

  The crowd applauds, and Marlion nods before continuing.

  “But at the end of the day,” he says, voice steady, “I just want to build a world where real Americans can live in peace.”

  Chad leans toward the camera with a practiced smirk, playing up the crowd.

  “We used to just have ICE,” he says, pausing for dramatic effect. “Now the Alien Department’s out here playing with fire.”

  The audience chuckles and claps as Chad turns back to his guest.

  “Sheriff Marlion Freeman has been keeping America safe for over twenty years—and he’s not slowing down anytime soon.”

  Marlion gives a solemn nod.

  “That’s right. Twenty years on the front lines, and I’ll keep doing it as long as this country needs me.”

  Chad leans in, his voice dropping into that performative tone of serious concern.

  “Now, folks—tonight’s topic hits close to home.”

  He taps a stack of papers dramatically.

  “We’re talking about the rise of Satan worship in America.”

  He gives the camera a grave look.

  “And frankly, it’s no surprise. Not since that demon was spotted right here on American soil—in New York City, no less.”

  The crowd murmurs. Chad turns back to his guest.

  “Sheriff Freeman, you’ve seen firsthand what’s happening out there. What’s your take?”

  Marlion nods. “Well, Chad… I’ve served this country for over twenty years, and I’ve never seen anything like what we’re facing now. These aren’t just aliens. These things—these demons—they’re infecting our culture, our values.”

  Chad lifts the papers again with a flourish.

  “According to our latest poll, a staggering eighty-four percent of young voters now support demons. That’s right—demons.

  He shuffles the stack with a dramatic pause.

  “Back in my day, demons got cast out in church—not brought home for dinner. And that, folks, brings us to a timeless American truth: youth culture is always wrong.”

  “Yeah… my own daughter won’t even speak to me anymore—not since she befriended that demon,” Marlion says, eyes downcast as he shakes his head.

  Chad reaches across the desk, placing a hand on Marlion’s arm in a gesture of solemn solidarity.

  “And who can blame you?” Chad says with a grin. “In this country, we don’t coddle kids who turn their backs on American values—we send ’em packing.”

  Marlion looks back up at Chad, his voice steady but heavy.

  “It’s hard to even wrap your head around what the media’s doing to our kids these days.”

  He glances toward the camera. “And we’ll be talking more about that—right after this message.”

  After the interview, Marlion drives back to the Alien Department.

  At a red light, he glances out the window and spots them—his daughter, Alexia, walking down the sidewalk alongside that boy, Markus… and the demon girl he once arrested.

  They’re laughing about something. Relaxed. Alive.

  Marlion’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.

  He looks away, exhales through his nose, and stares at the light.

  It turns green.

  He drives on, saying nothing.

  The worst part is seeing her happy, he thinks as he eases the car into a parking spot. Somehow… that hurts the most.

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  He pushes the emotion down. Whatever flicker of feeling he has left, he buries under habit.

  The glass doors of the Alien Department slide open as he steps inside.

  “Morning,” he says flatly to the woman at the front desk—his wife—who gives him a tired nod without looking up.

  He doesn’t stop. Just keeps walking, straight down the corridor and into his office.

  “Welcome back, sir.”

  Robert steps into the office, a folder tucked under his arm.

  “Here’s the report—the fire was caused by an oven overheating. For once, it wasn’t a demon.”

  Marlion doesn’t look up.

  “I see,” he says calmly, flipping through a stack of his own papers.

  “Well… I guess it’s a good thing there are fewer of them out there. Not causing so many fires anymore.”

  Robert clears his throat. “Actually, sir… we just got a report about a new alien arrival. This one’s—well, strange.”

  Marlion glances up. “Strange how?”

  “It looks like a rabbit. Just… a rabbit.”

  Marlion raises an eyebrow. “What, like a lunar bunny?”

  “It’s different,” Robert says. “It looks like a rabbit… but it talks. Full sentences. And it killed two people this morning.”

  Marlion stands and grabs his shotgun from the rack on the wall.

  “Where was it last seen?”

  “Mary Jane High,” Robert replies, already pulling out his phone.

  “It’s been hanging around the football field. Witnesses say it hasn’t left.”

  He calls over his shoulder, “Nathan! We’ve got a live one.”

  Moments later, the three of them climb into a black government SUV.

  The sirens wail as they speed down the street—toward the high school, and toward whatever waits on that field.

  The three officers ready their guns.

  An acorn hits the pavement.

  Bang!

  Robert fires, the shot echoing through the air.

  People scream. Chaos erupts.

  “…Sorry,” Robert mutters, lowering his weapon.

  Though the crowd makes it to the gate of the football stadium, they crouch behind it, praying the beast won’t see them.

  Then, turning the corner—they see it.

  A brown rabbit.

  It hops casually across the field, as if it owns the place.

  Marlion gives a sharp gesture, and the officers charge in—boots pounding against the turf, guns raised.

  The rabbit stands at midfield, small and still, bathed in the morning light. It twitches one ear… then leaps.

  CRACK.

  One officer goes down screaming, a deep gash torn through his chest. The rabbit hasn’t used claws or teeth—it just moved. Fast.

  “Open fire!” Robert shouts.

  Gunfire erupts. Bullets tear through the air, ripping into the grass and the goalposts—but the rabbit is already gone, a blur weaving between them like smoke.

  It jumps again—bam!—slamming into another officer and sending him flying into the bleachers with a sickening thud.

  “Where the hell is it?!” Nathan yells.

  Marlion scans the field, sweat dripping down his temple. The rabbit is gone again—no, wait—it’s clinging to the goalpost with unnatural ease.

  Its head tilts slowly.

  Then it leaps.

  The officers scatter as it crashes down, leaving a small crater in the turf. A shockwave ripples outward, knocking them off their feet.

  Robert struggles to reload. “It’s not using magic,” he mutters. “It is magic.”

  The rabbit lands again—this time right in front of them.

  It stares with wide, glassy eyes. Silent. Soulless.

  Then its fur cracks. A faint glow seeps through, like molten lines beneath the skin.

  Marlion’s eyes widen. “Get back—now!”

  The rabbit crouches low, muscles tensing beneath its brown fur. Its beady eyes lock onto Marlion.

  Then—it moves.

  A blur of motion. Dirt explodes as it lunges forward—

  BOOM!

  A flash of violet light streaks across the stadium. The rabbit is hit mid-leap, blasted sideways by a crackling arcane missile. It tumbles across the turf, limbs flailing, before slamming into the side of the bleachers with a shriek.

  The rabbit springs to its feet, silent but snarling, red cracks glowing across its fur now. Hurt—but not down.

  Lemres raises his hand. Sigils flare to life around him, humming with quiet power.

  “Not letting you slip away,” he mutters, snapping a glowing box into place around the rabbit.

  It vanishes inside with a pulse of light.

  Behind him, boots scrape the ground.

  “It’s you,” Marlion says, voice low and sharp.

  “The boy who freed the demons. The one who turned my daughter against me.”

  Lemres gives a mock bow, still holding the glowing containment box.

  “Thanks for the rabbit. That was the final piece. Together, we just saved the planet.”

  Robert and Nathan raise their weapons, aiming straight at him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Robert demands.

  Lemres doesn’t flinch.

  “Taking the rabbit to another dimension. One where we can summon the dragon safely—away from Earth. And the rest is…”

  Marlion steps forward, fury blazing in his eyes.

  “That creature is Alien Department property! You hand it over—now!”

  Nathan fires.

  The bullet strikes a shimmering barrier midair and ricochets off with a flash of light.

  Lemres doesn’t even blink.

  “You really think I didn’t plan for that?” he says dryly.

  Marlion lunges.

  Before Lemres can react, a fist slams into his jaw—hard. The blow knocks him back, and the glowing containment box slips from his grip.

  “Give me that!” Marlion snarls.

  He snatches up Lemres’s Mahoishi, the runes still pulsing with power… and hurls it.

  The device sails through the air, crashing over a hundred yards away.

  The containment spell shatters with a crack of energy.

  “No—what did you just do?” Lemres shouts, scrambling to his feet.

  The rabbit blinks, dazed and disoriented.

  Bang.

  Marlion doesn’t hesitate. He raises his gun and fires.

  The rabbit collapses, limp. Its eyes roll back in its head—then snap open, glowing with something unnatural.

  Its body twitches.

  The eyes roll again—then snap open wider this time, a sickening blackness bleeding into the whites, swirling like smoke trapped under glass.

  And then it begins to glow.

  The sky—clear and bright just moments ago—darkens.

  Not like clouds gathering. More like something blotting out the sun itself.

  A shadow stretches across the city, wide and unnatural, spreading from the rabbit’s corpse.

  A low hum fills the air, vibrating through the pavement.

  Lemres stares, horror flooding his face.

  “You doomed us all, Marlion.”

  Marlion takes a step back, his gun trembling.

  “What… what’s happening?”

  Lemres doesn’t answer right away. When he speaks, his voice drops to a cold whisper.

  “The Morgi Rabbit wasn’t just a creature. It was a portal. A living gate.”

  He turns, eyes wild.

  “And now it’s dead.”

  Mana swirls at his feet as he spins on his heel.

  “Never mind—we don’t have time.”

  With a snap of light and runes, Lemres vanishes—

  —just as something begins to fall from the darkened sky.