In 2172 it was supposed to end the world, as most cataclysmic events threaten to do. A spatial tear that formed near Earth's orbit, predicted to drift into the planet's path long enough to engulf it and crush it black hole-like out of existence. As the nations of the world erupted into mass hysteria and rioting, prophets proclaimed the end of all things and madmen threw themselves to their deaths off the highest building. And behind the chaos scientists all across the globe raced to find the technology to save it all.
They failed.
With a shudder in the local space/time continuum, Earth passed over the tear's threshold and for a long, heart-stopping moment, the sun, the stars and everything else in the universe disappeared. And much to everybody's surprise it reappeared a moment later.
At first everyone thought they had survived the end. That somehow everything was the same as it was before. After all, no cities were destroyed, the landmasses didn't move, nothing was flooded, burnt or buried. Governments still ruled, people still lived; nothing had changed.
They were wrong.
His goateed face tightened as he looked up at the street clock with its glowing holographic numbers: 20:42. Eighteen minutes to curfew and he still had a mark to take out. Adjusting his quantum shadow goggles and pulling his loose coat closer to his lean form, he scrubbed a hand over his bare head and looked down the street. Like many such streets in the hollowed out wreck that was once Toronto, Canada, it was empty. Or was it?
There, the slight shift of light being bent at the corner of a nearby intersection. A cloaking field, and a good one too. Drawing his disruptor, a weapon that worked no matter what the target's quantum signature was, he focused his goggles in that direction. And he grinned when a halo appeared around the bubble of bent light. 'Bingo.' He thought.
Taking a two handed grip on his weapon, he carefully eased his way down the street, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Unfortunately this section of the city had been relatively spared the destruction that marred the greater part of it and the street lights were still working. That forced him to hug the walls of the buildings lining the street to stay out of the pale yellow circles the lights cast on the ground.
Not that it mattered; long years spent hunting these things had taught him they didn't see things like humans did. There was a better than average chance this thing already knew he was coming, and could see quite well in the dark to boot.
The bubble didn't shift in the minute or two it took for him to get into weapons range. Either the cloak was a decoy and it had circled around to try and take him out from behind. Or it was confident its cloak was keeping it nice and hidden. He smiled tightly. Either way, there would shortly be weapons fire.
He was taking aim at the bubble when, without warning, a voice blared from a hidden speaker built into the street clock behind him.
"Citizens! Be advised that martial law is in effect. You have fifteen minutes to clear the streets or you will be arrested." The voice paused, then began to repeat its message.
Having lived through more than his fair share of distractions, the man didn't flinch when the curfew message started to blare. Whatever was hiding under the bubble apparently wasn't so hardened. As soon as the amplified voice began to echo along the broad street, the bubble popped as it spooked and a dark shape bolted down the cross street.
"Shit." He hissed. Then he was running full speed to the corner, turning hard left and running after it.
Whatever it was, it was quick, flying over cracked concrete and seamed pavement so fast it left a dust trail. That tightened the man's expression even further. He had tracked things like this one during the war and it hadn't taken long to learn there was only one way to slow them down: you put a hole in their head.
The disruptor came up fast and snapped out a tight cluster of blasts, each compact capsule of seething energy and shifting particles possessing the power to rupture tissue and destroy bone. And he cursed out loud as it bobbed and weaved in a smooth, unending alien flow that enabled it to avoid just about every shot he fired.
Every shot except the last one. Striking it in the shoulder, the final blast spun the creature around, forcing it to desperately stumble and stagger to remain on its feet.
That gave him enough of an opening to charge forward, gun held ready. Lean and muscular, he could run like an old school sprinter, hurling down the sidewalk at breakneck speed. Which meant he was only half as fast as the thing he was chasing. Still, it couldn't outrun light.
He slowed as it staggered around a corner of yet another cross street, forcing him to reevaluate and reposition, the disruptor coming up to ready. At least it couldn't go far, not hurt like that.
The man eased around that same corner, weapon held high and eyes sharp. There! It had come to a shivering halt in the yellow pool of illumination cast by an overhead street light. Taking aim, he eased forward to optimal firing range. His next shot needed to take this thing out.
That put him close enough that when it turned around, he could see its face. Or rather, her face; it wore long brunette hair and the pretty features of a young human woman. Yet her furred legs with their digitigrade feet didn't belong on any human.
Any sympathy that face could've garnered however was immediately wiped out by the massive blaster she was holding ready. Not even bothering to wonder where she managed to get her hands on such a thing, he fired three quick shots, two slamming into her chest and the third into her face. Thrown back by the multiple impacts, the creature flopped limply onto the ground, the gun skittering off into the shadows while clear ichor leaked from the holes in her body.
Nodding in satisfaction, he lifted the disruptor to a ready position, intending on stepping forward to check to make sure his quarry was dead. Only to find himself in a bright cone of light as, stealth thrusters humming and hissing, several craft descended out of the night sky.
"Stand where you are." A hard voice ordered over a loud speaker and the man sighed as he held his weapon and his identification into the air. Like he would run in the face of these odds. Then they were stepping out of the darkness, armored soldiers with helmets and masks hiding their faces, night vision goggles lending red glows to their eyes. They relieved him of his ID and his weapon before patting him down for others, quickly finding his backup in a holster hiding in the small of his back.
Relieving him of that as well, the soldiers then stepped back as one of their number came forward. Helmet-less, the soldier peered out of a scarred and weathered face first at the ID he now held then at the man.
"Little late to be running down tags, ain't it, Keplar?" The soldier grated. "Five minutes past curfew and carrying a sidearm. I could have you shot."
"Man's gotta eat, sergeant." Keplar replied with a shrug, having spotted the slashes of non-commissioned rank on the soldier's armored shoulder. "I fail to bring in the tag, I don't get paid."
The soldier looked away from where a knot of his colleagues were examining the downed creature, bringing his attention back to Keplar.
"We put a hole in you and guess what? You don't get paid either." He bluntly pointed out in his harsh voice. "If you like killing mirrors so much, you should've just stayed in the military." He handed Keplar's weapons and ID back.
"Just be glad you're a frickin' war hero. It means you get to keep breathing tonight."
"Thanks." Keplar husked dryly as he rehid his backup before smoothly holstering the disruptor and slipping the ID into an inner pocket. "I appreciate that, sergeant." A ghost of a smile appeared on his tanned face.
"Mind giving me a lift back to my ride so I can get outta your hair?"
The door to his office rattled as he gave it a shake, the lock stuck as usual. Then it was swinging out of his way and Keplar was stepping into the darkness beyond with a frown. 'Damn piece of shit door.' He darkly thought. If only he could afford to get it fixed. But, like everything else in a world trying to rebuild after a devastating war that nearly broke it, anything new was too expensive and too hard to find for low lifes like him.
It had all begun with what the eggheads called 'the Fracture', the event where Earth itself was swallowed up by a tear in space/time. Shortly after exiting the tear, things began to go wrong. Starting with Earth's own people. Because, in that moment of darkness, while Earth passed through the tear, half of them disappeared. Not only did they vanish, they were replaced by strange, twisted versions of themselves, like the image one saw in a fun house mirror, many of these strange creatures blessed with incredible strength and mystical powers.
Some of these 'mirrors' were fairly normal, close enough to the original they had replaced that they wanted to live peaceful, happy lives. Others, not so much; within weeks of the Fracture armies of belligerent and malevolent mirrors began marching on the capitals of the world, declaring their intention to take over. The Fracture War had begun.
It churned and seethed for almost fifteen years as a full quarter of what used to be the population of the planet fought against the human military that was left. Keplar had fought in that war, from beginning to end, earning his hatred for mirrors with every one that tried to kill him.
The war crippled economies, shattered cultures and destroyed cities as the mirrors fought with reckless abandon to conquer their new home. In the end, as the sides traded tactical nuclear strikes and fought with warships in orbit, it had been a small group of covert operatives that finally managed to assassinate the mirror leadership and render the mirror armies powerless. A group Keplar had led.
Keplar sighed as a wave over a wall sensor turned on a flickering fluorescent light that barely threw back the gloom cloaking the office's interior. That had been five years ago, and Earth was nowhere near recovered from the cataclysm of death and destruction the Fracture War had caused. It didn't help that the Fracture had also left behind twisted mirrors of plants and animals that were as violent and dangerous as their almost-human counterparts, thereby rendering a good part of the planet uninhabitable.
He tossed a plastic bag holding something bloody onto the top of a battered looking desk. It was a tag, an electronic tracking device he had retrieved from the mirror he had dropped tonight. All mirrors who survived the war agreed to have them implanted as part of the peace treaty. When a tag went offline, it was a sign the mirror had gone rogue. And that's where men and women like him came into play, using their skills and abilities to track the rogues down and bring back their tags. For a price, of course.
As the hard metal and plastic hit the battered wooden desk top with a clunk, something stirred in the shadows.
"Another successful hunt, I see." A low, sonorous voice said.