I went to the event at 2 in the morning, as promised, to visit my roommate. I dragged my friend Rae along with me to deliver pizza and the requested red Gatorade to Mia, who was participating in an annual event put on by the clubs at our university. Participants stand for 20 hours to raise money and awareness for the Children's Hospital, and they hear the stories from the children themselves and their families. It's a lot of fun, even if it is tiring, and it always raises a ton of money. Anyway, that's why I was bringing sustenance to my roommate at two in the morning. The converted basketball court in the arena was filled with people, color, loud music, and it was hot. I removed my jacket and tied it around my waist as Rae and I searched for Mia's signature bright red hair in its sleek ponytail. The arena had poor service and texts were taking forever to go through. We stood in the raised seating, looking down into the mass of people on the court, but couldn't spot her, even after ten minutes. Finally, we descended into the throng, deciding maybe we'd just bump into her. Bad plan. I had only had an inch on Rae's 5 foot 5 height, and it felt like everyone around us was about six and a half feet tall. Mia is my height so it's not like we could spot her unless we literally ran into her.
I wanted nothing more than to get out of there, away from the crowd and all the stimulus. I felt a growl start in my throat as a particularly loud song started – and I thought it had been unbearable before. I swallowed it down though, I couldn't let anyone know my secret. Even as I searched for my roommate, towing Rae behind me, I was thinking about how catastrophic that would be for me.
I am a mutant. I knew without a doubt that I would be classified as "especially dangerous" if anyone found out about me, but I'm confident no one does. It would likely mean life in a lab for me, constantly being poked and prodded. It was every mutant's worst nightmare, right next to hurting our loved ones on accident, and them turning away from us if they ever learned the truth.
"I don't see her anywhere, and I'm starting to get a headache from this terrible band" Rae said, pulling me from my thoughts.
"I know, they're really bad" I agreed. More than bad, my enhanced hearing was only making it worse; I would've sworn my ears were bleeding. Finally, a text comes through from Mia letting me know she's standing near something called the "Morale Tiki Hut." Wherever the hell that is in this chaos.
I turn to Rae to fill her in, but she's distracted by the awful band starting a new song.
"Rae!" she turns and I continue "do you see some kind of 'Morale Tiki Hut'?"
Rae just chuckles and points over my shoulder, and I laugh when I turn and discover the elusive Tiki Hut in question is a mere five feet behind me, and I can see Mia's hair as she spins around looking for us. There's still a crush of bodies to get through though, and as Rae and I force out way through, I can feel the growl starting again, only this time my nails grow a bit into the claws as well when I get roughly shoved by an over-exuberant dancer. I get myself under control just in time to bump into Mia.
"Hey! Here's the Gatorade, and the pizza," I say as I hand Mia the bottle and the Ziploc baggie with the pepperoni pizza slice.
"Thank you so much! You're the best roommate ever!" Mia gushes before downing some Gatorade.
"How long have you been standing?" Rae asks.
"18 hours now! And everything hurts!" Mia complains as she pretends to fall against me. We laugh and talk about how crazy everything is, then we all flinch as the band starts their rendition of "Timber" by Pitbull and Kesha, including a completely unnecessary harmonica. It doesn't filter through the sound system very well. My ears are almost definitely bleeding now.
The harsh noise just makes it harder for me to keep myself under control, but I manage. I don't have 18 years and change of experience under my belt for nothing. Suddenly the song ends and the band is ushered off stage. Rae and I cheer that they're gone, but Mia groans, knowing what's coming from 18 hours of experience.
"It's the morale dance!" she has to shout over the start of music as people climb onto the secondary stage, "Can you hold this until it's done?" she asks me while holding out her drink, confident that I will take it. And I do, even though I want nothing more than to get out of here.
"We'll leave once this dance thing is over, okay?" I say to Rae.
"Yeah, that sounds good, it's definitely bedtime." she says laughing. I check my phone only to realize it's now 3am. It took longer to find Mia than I had originally thought.
The "Morale Dance," Rae and I discover is really just a way to get everyone moving rather than just standing. We're watching the two rows of people on stage as they do the choreography so everyone else can follow. Rae and I just watch with some of the other visitors rather than participate.
"I'm really enjoying the enthusiasm of the guy at the far end of the second row," I say to Rae, and we giggle as we watch him dance sans facial expression, and with as little movement as possible.
"The girls in the front are really into it," Rae says to me, and I have to agree. "Are we judging," she asks me, "I feel like we're being judge-y."
"When are we not being judge-y?" I respond, laughing, and she joins in.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stands straight up, and I know something is wrong; my natural instincts, part of my abilities, are telling me to get the hell out of there. I slowly scan around me, trying to figure out what's triggering my instincts so violently. That's when I spot someone dressed casually, but clearly not a participant in the fundraiser, and definitely not a college kid having a good time. I start to notice more like him, and then the uniforms walk in, calmly, like they've got nothing going on, but my heart starts beating triple-time.
"Hey, Rae, I'm gonna throw this away, I'll be right back," I say to her with the empty Ziploc in hand as I turn toward the first man I noticed. She just nods, still watching the dance, and not noticing my agitation. As I walk toward the trash can 5 feet from the guy, he pulls something from his back pocket, and it looks like a folded piece of paper. I throw the Ziploc bag away and watch subtly as he goes to put it back in his pocket, but he doesn't notice when it falls to the ground while he walks away.
I calmly walk to the paper and pick it up. It's folded but I can tell there's writing on it, so I turn my back to the mass of people and unfold it.
I freeze when I see of picture of a girl with brown hair and blue eyes looking back at me. Below the image are some facts: Name: Myka Ann Reynolds, Height: 5'6", Hair Color: Brown, Eye Color: Blue, Gender: Female, Mutation: Unknown (Reported Shapeshifting), Classified: Extremely Dangerous.
I feel Rae walk up behind me, come looking for me when I took too long to throw a bag away, and I don't fold the paper fast enough.
"Myka, why does that paper have a picture of you on it?" she questions. And I just open and close my mouth like a fish, unable to come up with anything, my mind busy with other things.
To be looking for me here is strange, I'm not a participant so I'm not on any roster, nor in any social media group – I haven't even posted anything about visiting. The most logical place to look for me would be my dorm room. But since my building is literally right next door to the arena, they probably figured this was the next best place. Suddenly I'm relieved my other two roommates went back home this weekend, and Mia was already here; they probably would have known which room I occupy our apartment style housing, but I didn't know how, or if, they would explain their presence to take me away.
"Myka? Hello? You still here? You don't look so good." Rae says while I'm still frozen. "Maybe we really should get back so you can sleep." But suddenly I'm not so sure I can go back. I'm not even sure I'll be able to get out of the building, and I don't want to get Rae hurt in any crossfire.
It turns out I don't get the opportunity to come up with a plan anyway. The music that filled the gym stops abruptly, and everyone mutters in confusion when a man in a suit, complete with a flak jacket, gets up on the stage, microphone in hand – nearby I hear someone mutter that it's not time for a miracle story yet. And, oh, do I wish that's what this is.
"Hello everyone, and good morning" the man says, his voice is deep, it matches his height and adds to his intimidation ability I'm sure. The problem is that my panic has kicked my abilities into high gear, and I can tell, even from 60 feet away that he's nervous. Probably because he's trying to apprehend an "Extremely Dangerous" mutant in a court full of citizens.
He continues and I'm stuck listening to his words, unwillingly to try to leave and draw attention to myself.
"My name is Captain Stewart, and I'm leading a team here today to take someone into custody, to take a mutant into custody," and he stops when people start muttering, and Rae just looks at me funny, rolling her eyes, like she can't believe this is happening.
I must make a somewhat convincing smile, even though I'm panicking hardcore internally. She must be distracted though, because she can always tell when I'm faking a smile.
The captain continues, "Yes, really, a mutant here among you. We have it on good authority that she," my chest constricts, "has some sort of animal mutation," I can't breathe, "and has enhanced senses as well." I'm starting to hyperventilate and I drop Mia's Gatorade bottle - people notice and are giving me funny looks.
Then someone else walks up to the captain on stage. I calm myself down a bit, and strain to hear what they're saying. I shift my inner ear into a variety of animals' anatomy, but nothing can make out what's being said as they whisper their conversation, not over the sound of my still panicked heartbeat. It doesn't last very long, and the captain turns back to his audience with a small device in his hand.
"We're going to use that against her," and then he presses a button. Unfortunately, I don't have time to shift my hearing back to human from canine, and the device is a high-pitch tone generator, made for training dogs, but clearly modified to be worse, if I'm going by the splitting pain in my skull. I wasn't expecting it, and I drop to my knees, head in my hands screaming. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I realize no one else can hear it, and everyone around me is backing away quickly. Rae looks conflicted about it, simultaneously worried for me and about me. But I don't blame her, my position must be reminiscent of the Daniel video – and everyone has seen that.
The tone stops, and I look up, panting from the residual pain. Those who can see me face gasp, and I realize I've partially shifted my face: my eyes are bright gold like that of a tiger, and my canine teeth have extended to fangs. What they haven't noticed yet are my fingernails, extended and sharpened like claws.
All of my inner instincts, the instincts of every animal in the animal kingdom, are shouting at me that I'm in danger, being attacked, and that I have to protect myself and Rae, because my animal sides long ago accepted her as pack. But my human brain is insisting she's not in danger, she's a normal human so they won't hurt her, and fighting won't help me now. I manage to control my nails and teeth, but the eyes are a lost cause; they are the window to the soul after all.
It doesn't help that I'm angry. My gaze falls on the captain standing on stage, and his smug look dissipates, even as his men surround me, weapons drawn. I stand slowly, tiger eyes still locked on his, and his dark skin goes pale. I'm livid. He fleshed me out on the first try and my animal side is threatening to take over.
I'm tempted to let it.
