The Amalgamate Hunters
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“This time, the price will be high.” — Told me the Negotiations Head breezily, with a look of full curiosity that leapt from his face and made me believe that he was delighted to receive such a proposal; he repeatedly poked at the small wooden table, pirouetting and doing acrobatics with his candid fingers.

“Are you gonna catch a big fish?” — I asked him, equally interested in the service that was consuming him like a burning flame.

“Heh. If you help me, I'll split the money”

“80% for me and 20% for you?” — I asked him sarcastically, my eyes widening.

“Not even over my dead body will you come with these scams. The money will be the same for both of us.”

Flipping through the crumpled pieces of paper, deftly reading the words that came to him, the sick smile on his mouth only widened. He considered it an arduous challenge, and even though acting all clever, he didn't forget to sigh when he reached the end of the body of text. He let out a laugh that left me incredulous, but I decided to follow him in the endeavor.

Putting back the paperclips, he massaged his temples and stared at me with his enigmatic gaze, which hid a thousand secrets. When it came to business, he was wary as a crane to comply with it; that is, not even a bit.

“May luck be on our side.”

We shrewdly headed for one of the nearest cars; it had a dark paint job and resembled an old jeep.

My friend was carrying neutralizing equipment and technologies, choosing to hold them in different ways when he got tired because of the weight. He complained, moving impatiently with his luggage, constantly shifting his eyes.

I was already carrying suitcases with various files that would help to capture the anomaly. Propagating the profit limit and capturing objects for clients with quirky tastes became my favorite hobby. The feeble obstacles present on the way made me release ignoble, if not inappropriate, words.

As we got into the car, I got into the passenger seat and prepared myself for the trip.

Starting to drive, I asked him for some details that incurred in my mind, echoing gossip and doubts that killed me and gnawed at me like sulfuric acid.

“What did the customer ask of us?”

“He wanted us to get an amalgamate.” — He replied, not taking his eyes off the streets ahead.

“Amalgamate? What is that?”

“Didn't you do your homework? Do I need to explain to you?”

“I would thank you.”

“Amalgamates are beings usually resulting from the combination of different creatures, if that's what you wanted to know.”

After a while, came to me that melody that I almost celebrated:
"We've arrived."

It was a place close to the forests; among the dense woods that hid the scenery from me, I could see the faint outlines of an abandoned house, its windows permeated with cracks and dust.

Alluviums surrounded my legs, and made me alert to walk in that environment. My companion, already agile and familiar with these occasions, coordinated himself like a feline to pass between the traps.

“It is looking like an 80s horror movie to me, don't you think?”

“You're the only one who thinks that. It seems to me more like a grotesque soap opera from the 60s.” — he replied, not taking his eyes off the slippery and holey diadem.

“Let's stop arguing, let's move!”

Going around the bushes and overturned treetops, approaching even more of that big house that sent shivers down my spine, I continued to open up that supposedly abandoned territory; broken stained-glass windows, stained with a vivid and strong color, not looking like blood due to the red trash, but some analogous slime; broken doors, with crumbling and untidy details and scraggly pieces of brick kept my colleague from reaching the front door.

“Are you wet or did you get this far without a drop in your pants?” — He asked me, taking advantage of my excellent caution with places like that.

“Given my extensive consumed filmography, I can't let myself get carried away by this scenario that can be full of voracious poltergeists. And I'm not a wimp like you.”

“You're an asshole, that's for sure. There is an explanation for everything. If you want to be a parapsychologist, your place is not here.”

Upon entering, I found a surprisingly intact environment; shiny, living floors emerged from the floor and came into my sight. The walls were painted with a wooden wallpaper, the fidelity of which was so high that I thought the wall was made of birch.

My colleague dumped the equipment and took one of them: it was a plasma cannon, one of those widely used by the organization; various machinery and pipes were scattered throughout the structure, as well as components that he didn't understand. This wasn't even an ordinary mission — it was a fun experience in which we'd risk our lives for funny paper notes.

“The place is actually in good condition. Why did they leave this place?” — My companion wondered to himself, with a vehement desire to find out what is going on. He examined the walls and the floor like Sherlock Holmes, not only aiming at the riches with the success of the mission, but also at solving a peculiar case of improvised moving.

“I just remembered: what we wanted to capture is in the basement. You have to stop being a detective and get down to business.” — I told him in brusque words.

“This is too cliche for my taste. We inserted ourselves in a sick horror movie.”
We move to the stairs of that small and strange room that had been called a basement not only because of its oddities, but also because of its underground location, hidden in the deepest corners of the house.

The same goo I saw in the windows was present through the doors; however, it was no longer an eccentric red, but a maddening green that singed my eyes just by looking at it. I passed one of my fingers on it — and even covered with gloves — I felt the burning of my dermis, thus throwing it back into the stained glass.

“Put your eccentric premonitions aside, for now is the time for action.”

“I'm as ready as ever for this.”

The locked door in front of us was soon taken down with a kick that sent it flying. To our surprise, there was only a washing machine that was making the most diverse noises.

“Don't be fooled. That's where the amalgamate is.” — My companion told me again. — Grab one of these guns and let's go. It is for capture only. — He finished.

Upon noticing us, that same humble machine began to levitate, throw itself at the walls, and squirt jets of water to the four corners of the room. I shot it with the plasma gun, which almost sent me flying through the door due to the impact. The amalgamate, infuriated, widened its movements and flipped through the air, whirling and falling again; it flew towards me, and if not for the sudden dodge, it would have crushed me.

“Hey! Comrade! Start shooting too!” — I yelled at him, and he immediately activated the utensil.

Two beams from opposite directions hit the washing machine; from it was ejected a curious creature: it was common slime, but with phantasmagorical properties, from which green and red liquid ejected. The object broke down, and the amalgamate that had been so long awaited for came out.

“It's time to capture this thing.” — He said, getting a big transparente bucket.
When we come back, we'll deliver that to the client.

“Here's the payment. I liked your services.” — The client, to whom we gave the creature, communicated, eager for the reward.

“Definitely, we're amalgamate hunters.” — I said, giggling.

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