An adult space anime · created by Jesse Alexander

BAD APPLES: DARK CELL, The Hunt for the 99

Ninety-nine of the worst beings in the galaxy just walked out of the most secure prison ever built. Who do you send after them? One young human with a pencil, and five killers and misfits.

SEE THE BOARD ▸MEET THE CREW ▸FLY THE GALAXY ▸

The six Apples standing in a row: Abigail Chase, Tukkar Omdor, Nym Selum, Vesk Mirat, Lio Twil and Kellen Nine

Abigail ChaseAbigail Chase Tukkar OmdorTukkar Omdor Nym SelumNym Selum Vesk MiratVesk Mirat Lio TwilLio Twil Kellen NineKellen Nine

Abigail Chase Tukkar Omdor Nym Selum Vesk Mirat Lio Twil Kellen Nine

The crew of the Orchard, left to right. Development art. Tap anyone to meet them.

How long have you got?

30 secondsKeep scrolling. It's mostly pictures and numbers. 5 minutesMeet the six who do the hunting. All nightFly the galaxy. Nobody's timing you.

The pitch, in four panels

Every cell door opens at the same moment. The guards are dead. The docks are empty.

One inmate stays put, playing a pipe carved from his mother's rib. His advice is free, and annoyingly good: to hunt monsters, you'll need other monsters.

So the Stack sends a human profiler and five killers and misfits, on a retired prison ship. Nobody aboard was picked first for anything.

People leave the table before the board's updated. Ninety-nine mugshots on a cork board in the galley, and one red marker on a string.

Are those who hunt monsters destined to become monsters?

We ask it every hunt, and we keep the answer honest.

The list

Ninety-nine names. Pick a kind of story.

One hunt, one name, one kind of story. They rarely repeat. Tap a kind and watch the board light up, or tap a dot to read the warrant.

Horror15 Spectacle14 Spy13 Madcap12 Road11 Heist9 Race9 Kaiju8 Mecha8

The hollow one is number 100. He never left his cell. Why not?

NOW SHOWING

Nine kinds of story. Pick one.

99 warrants

How a hunt goes

They all go like this, until they don't.

PickOne name comes off the board.
LandNew world, new local cops, new bad ideas.
ReadAbigail profiles. Everyone else improvises.
CatchIt costs somebody on the ship something.
GalleyTired, hungry, long table. Board gets updated.

The board ritual, six ways

AbigailWrites the real name in pen, in her best handwriting.TukkarCrosses it out in red. One marker, on a string.NymAdds margin notes in a beautiful hand. Everybody reads them.VeskPretends she never looks.LioRuns the betting pool.KellenDraws a tiny sun by every criminal he liked.

The real names go up in pen. We're keeping those in the drawer.

The Heart Rule

Every fugitive is funny in one way and aching in one way.

The funny gets you in the door. The ache is why Abigail keeps writing the names.

Funny

A giant monster who believes it's a bridge.
A cult that needs a hostage every Tuesday.
A second moon, sold to a planet that now expects it.

Aching

A soldier whose daughter won't forgive him.
An assassin who wants somebody to come home to.
People who were broken on purpose when they were small.

One hunt in five plays it straight dark. No jokes. Start to finish.

The smallest person on board is the only one who thinks everybody can be reached. She keeps showing up anyway, with a pencil.

The heart of it comes from the real experiences of Sarah Adams, a former CIA Targeting Officer. We took her team out of Langley and turned it loose across a galaxy.

Not telling you yet

Five questions we won't answer here.

?Why did number 100 stay in his cell?Ask Nym ▸ ?What do you do when a bomber who rhymes badly on purpose suddenly rhymes perfectly?Read the warrant ▸ ?What's under the black bars in Abigail's notebook?Open the notebook ▸ ?Why is a gunfighter asking what a lunch is?Meet Kellen ▸ ?How do you sell a planet a second moon, and what happens when it expects one?See the hunt ▸

Hunt 1

Breaking Out, in six beats

Abigail hands Tukkar a wrench under a ship in the rain on Vokra

The fuseSomebody's burning the border beacons. A bomb-poet mails a rhyming couplet the day before each burn, in exact-change postage. So far, nobody's died.
The deskAbigail grades the couplets with a red pencil. She reads a kitchen. Her boss won't clear a dock on a feeling.
The teamThere isn't one. Tukkar pulls her off her desk and tells her to profile his. A noodle shop, a party with five of Lio, a man in an open cell.
The fiascoThe plan falls apart at the docks. Wrong poet. Then Beacon Four goes at shift change, and for the first time somebody dies.
The tellThe newest couplet rhymes perfectly. A man who rhymes badly on purpose didn't write that.
The jacketShe's never been in the field. She puts on a jacket two sizes too big, leaves the headset on the desk, and goes.

Read the long version

Somebody's burning the border beacons on the docks of First Drawer, the capital of the galaxy. A bomb-poet the board calls the Anarchist, a Skarn who's just walked out of the Abyss, mails a rhyming couplet a day ahead of each burn, in exact-change postage. He rhymes badly on purpose. He hits at the empty hour and so far he's killed nobody.

The Stack, the Compact's spy service, stacks up the couplets and calls them threats. We find Abigail at her desk grading them with a red pencil, because she sees someone writing about a kitchen.

She asks for an evacuation and her boss won't clear a dock on a feeling. Then Tukkar walks in, pulls her off her desk, and tells her to profile his team.

There isn't one yet, so they go and collect it. Vesk fights three attackers at a noodle shop without pausing her show. Lio has five selves working the same party. Kellen asks what a lunch is. Last stop is the Abyss, where Nym's still sitting in his open cell. Abigail objects to every single one, and Tukkar overrules her every time.

They reach the docks and the plan comes apart at once. Vesk and Kellen tackle the wrong poet at a slam in Belo, the market district. Nobody will take an order from anybody. They're spending more energy on each other than on the bomber.

Then Beacon Four goes at shift change, with the gate packed. Dock workers die, and it's the first time anyone has.

Abigail goes back to the couplets, and the newest one rhymes perfectly. A man who rhymes badly on purpose didn't write that. Someone else is writing the bomber's poems.

The Dun Beacon is next and the clock's almost out. She's never been in the field and she's never been shot at. She gets up from her chair in a jacket two sizes too big, leaves the headset on the desk, and goes after him herself.

THE ANARCHIST'S WARRANT ▸

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