Medusa bolted upright from her perch on the back of the couch, "Mama!" she called to the kitchen. "We're on the news!"

Her mother came running to the TV, to see a fuzzy video of Medusa slithering up a building, holding her mother in her coils. Then Aries and Arcos came out of the grate on the street, jumped up on the roof of a building using the wall of the adjacent building for leverage, and bounded off out of the camera's view.

"We're famous!" Aries cried.

"Let's hope not," Phoenix said, going back to her task in the kitchen.

OoOoOo

The Phoenix had nightmares for several nights, little Tacituses running all around her, forming walls in front of her, falling down upon her and drowning her in a sea of rats. She would follow a little Tacitus through a maze, sometimes a sewer, sometimes a hedgerow, sometimes an unfamiliar warehouse. He would weave her left and right, and then come to a lab, where he would turn around and grow into a huge, skeletal-faced horse of a rodent, open his mouth and try to devour her. She would wake up in the early morning, not feeling refreshed at all, and hope fervently that Arcos and Aries had destroyed the Rat King's lab enough that he could not continue with his insane plans.

She began going out a little earlier for her clinics, and staying out later, in an attempt to wear herself out. An exhausted sleep held no dreams. She had always been a vivid dreamer, and the stretches of nightmares were frustrating to wait through until they changed back to something more pleasant.

One day while out at clinic, at about one in the morning, Arcos showed up, a huge, proud smile on his face. She opened her mouth to admonish him, fire in her eyes. He held up his paws, smile still on his face, "Wait!" he cried. "I wasn't checking up on you! I was following you!"

"Following me—" she managed to get out, before he interrupted her again.

"I'm practicing my smelling!"

The remark took his mother off guard, and the fire drained from eyes. "What?"

"I'm practicing my smelling," he said more calmly. "I'm follow your scent for practice. I'm getting better."

She smiled and shook her head. "You're following my scent through the city?"

"Yeah!" he sounded like a young boy having discovered a new talent.

"Where are your brother and sister?"

"They're cruising," he told her.

She sighed. "Bears have the best sense of smell of any land animal, you know," she told him as she packed up her items. "If I knew you were following me, then I would have taken a harder route."

After that night, she did.

Being alone with only one of her children was a great rarity, and she began to look forward to the hour between one and two in the morning when her son would come and find her, and they would walk home together, just to the two of them. Sometimes they would walk in silence, and sometimes Arcos would tell her about his thoughts, thoughts she knew he didn't share with anyone else. It made her feel wanted, like a mother again.

One of those nights, he surprised her by asking, "Mama, are you happy?"

"Of course I'm happy, Teddy Bear," she said. "Why wouldn't I be happy?"

He was quiet for a long moment, his face thoughtful. "You don't…you're the only human any of us know who lives with mutants."

"I'm the only human you know."

"I mean…you are the only human who is living with a bunch of mutants. No other mutants have humans living with them."

"So?" she asked gently.

"Don't you miss other humans?" he asked.

"Mutants and humans aren't all that different, Teddy Bear," she said. "They're both people, and people are people." She shrugged.

"But a lot of people don't live like we do."

"Some do," she replied. "And I am one of them."

"Why?"

She looked at her son, a huge thing, covered with dark brown fur, streaks of almost-gold on his paws and around his ears and eyes. Of all of her children, he was the most thoughtful, the one most likely to mull something over and let it bother him or make him happy. He felt his emotions gently, not like her with all-encompassing boldness. "Because I want to," she answered simply.

"You could have had a good life, Mama," he looked ahead of him, fear on his face. "You're beautiful—"

She laughed, cutting him off. "I'm pretty, Arcos. You think I am beautiful because I'm your mother, and all boys think their mother is beautiful."

"No," his voice was steady, and his eyes still ahead of him. "Just because I'm not human doesn't mean I don't know about humans. You're beautiful. And you're talented. And you're smart. And you're kind." He took a deep breath. "You could have done anything you wanted. "

"This is what I wanted," she said.

He looked at her then, frustrated. She was obviously evading the questions, "We Googled you," he said hotly. "You were rich—"

"No," she corrected quickly. "My father was rich. Stephane and I were never rich. We were comfortable."

"—you were a great gymnast—"

Again she interrupted him. "I was a good gymnast."

"You were an Olympic hopeful!"

"Lots and lots and lots of people are Olympic hopefuls," she explained. "That doesn't mean very much."

"You were on the fast track to making a career as a poet. You had a husband and a family. You could have lived a good life. Why do you live this one?"

Putting the question in the present tense made her wince. "Teddy Bear," she said. "Phoebe Trice was not very nice. She cared about winning, that's it."

"You did charity benefits," he said, and then he smiled. "We found this old video of you and your high school gym team and basketball team doing a breakdancing benefit for charity. We didn't know you could breakdance," his eyes twinkled. "You never dance like that when you dance with us."

"Any athlete worth their salt does charity benefits. It isn't because they care." It was her turn to look away, her face ashamed. "They do it to make themselves look good." Arcos opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand to stop him. "Oh, they might care in some abstract sense, but not in a real way. It is to push their career forward. Phoebe Trice was not nice and Phoebe Laferrier wasn't much better. She cared about her career, and how beautiful her husband and children were, and how well her children could do in their lives. She did the exact same thing as her parents did. Neither of those people were someone to be proud of. Not where it matters."

"Phoebe Trice gave up a fortune and her family to marry the man she loved," Arcos said. "And Phoebe Laferrier gave up her family and her life to carry out five monsters from a lab and raise them and love them for the past twenty years."

Her throat constricted, so she wasn't sure if she could answer him.

"Why did you choose to do that, instead of going back to your old life?"

It took her a few long moments to find her voice. "Arcos," she stopped walking, and looked at him seriously, tears coming to her eyes. "That woman is dead. She had a memorial service, and knowing the Haitian community, she probably has a grave stone."

"You do," he told her. "It's in Haiti. It's pretty."

The tears escaped her eyes, and she sucked her lips in an attempt to find her voice again. "That woman is dead," she said again. "The world is no worse off with her gone." Again he was about to say something and she held up her hand. "Her husband has been happy all these years. Her children have had more family members than they can count, and they have been happy. All without Phoebe Laferrier." She paused. "All those traits you said I have, those belong to me." She had to take a breath to continue. "Not to Phoebe Marie Trice Laferrier."

Arcos' eyes spilled tears, they dripped down his eyes and the back of his muzzle, being absorbed in his fur at his lower jaw. He scooped his mother up as if she were a doll, and buried his head, as much of it as he could, in her shoulder.

"Arcos," her voice was horse. "Do not ever think that I regret a day of this life I've lived. My life is full. It is full of love, and laughter, and family, and adventure!" He put her down, both of them blinking rapidly. "Why would I give up a life like that?"

She started out to clinic one summer afternoon, wearing a mint colored tank top and a pair of shorts with socks and running shoes, going her round-about way through the city to give Arcos a run for his money, when she came to a small patch of motels. Thanking her luck, she spend the rest of the afternoon going through the dumpsters as quietly as she could, collecting little once used soaps and shampoos and towels and wash cloths that were now too thin or stained for customers. Stuffing her messenger bags to the brim, she started off again, waiting for the voice that was and was not her voice to tell her where to go.

She walked a while, the sun sinking below the horizon. With the sky still light, even though the sun was no longer in the sky, she heard, quite distinctly, Here.

Looking around for a place to settle, she saw a rat rummaging through a pile of restaurant food left next to a dumpster. She felt disgust well in her stomach, and reached for her slingshot. Then the rat turned and looked at her. It was bleary eyed, the edge of its eyelids were red and gunky. Its fur was mangy, stuck together in places, with what she didn't know. It was breathing through its mouth, labored. She felt the disgust fade from her stomach, replaced by a feeling of pity.

The unbidden thought had brought her here, and she would trust the unbidden thought.

She inched closer to the rat, holding out her hand. It backed away, so she froze. They stayed in that position for quite a while, each held in place by anticipation. Finally, the rat inched forward, perhaps hoping that she had some sort of goodie that was better than what it had. It sniffed her fingertips, and she grabbed it in a flash too fast for the rat escape.

It made a move with its mouth as if to squeak, but nothing came out.

"It's OK," she tried to sooth the creature. "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

The rat struggled, but it didn't seem to have much in it to do so, and soon stopped, lying in her hands breathing harshly.

She looked around for a cup and a spigot, and quickly found both. Keeping the rat in the crook of her arm with her hand keeping it from escaping, she filled the cup up, and brought it over to her messenger bags. She took out a towel and a soap and squatted down. Taking the cup of water, she wet the rat, and washed him with the soap, lathering the little thing up and speaking it softly as she did so. "We will get you all fixed up," she said. "You'll be right as rain, don't worry. You'll feel much better once you're all clean."

She rinsed it, and then rinsed it again with a bottle of antiseptic rinse she carried, emptying one of her four 16 oz bottles on the rodent. Then she rubbed it down with the towel, wishing she had a clean one. It then was lotioned, potioned, and tingled accordingly, before she placed it by the side of the building, leaving the towel with it.

"You always go around helping street rats?" a gravelly voice came from the shadows behind her.

She jumped, and grabbed her chest. "Slash!" she smiled at the giant turtle standing in the semi-darkness. "You gave me a heart attack."

He was smiling back at her, "You need to listen better."

She shook her head, and put her hand on her hip. "What laser wound do you have now that you help with?"

He held up both of his hands, and turned them over, as if she was inspecting them for cleanliness before a meal. "Nothing to help today," he said. "I heard you talking to the rat, and came over."

She shook her head again, and walked over to her bags. "It isn't often I get a visit from someone who doesn't need patching. This is a good portent for the night!" She opened one of the bags, "Come, stay and keep me company for a while."

The large turtle didn't argue with her as she was expecting him to, but made himself comfortable. Rummaging through her bag she found a plastic jar filled with feverfew alcohol tincture, her mainstay for an anti-inflammatory and pain killer. She got out a dropper bottle of wormwood tincture, it was on top because she used it on the rat. She gave the jar to Slash, and unscrewed the lid to the little vial.

"Let's drink to your good luck! Now, this is doesn't taste good, but it gets the job done." She held up her little vial.

Slash let out a deep, rough laugh, and unscrewed the mayonnaise jar his tincture and clinked it to her little bottle. "To good luck!" He then put it to his mouth and took a long, deep swig.

Phoenix downed her in one gulp, with it being only about the amount of a shot glass. She made a face, and looked at the bottle as if it were poison. "That's absolutely atrocious!" she exclaimed. "No wonder my patients don't want to drink it!"

Slash made a similar face when he took the jar from his beak. "You're right, this stuff is nasty." He took another swig.

She laughed, and said, "So, Slash, tell me about yourself."

The turtle just looked at her and then took another swig of the feverfew tincture.

"Alright then," she tried, "how about you ask me a question, and then I will ask you a question."

He regarded her with his little, beady eyes. "OK," he replied. "Why do you go around the city helping mutants?"

Without missing a beat she said, "Because I want to." She quickly asked her question before he could protest her answer. "Were you a turtle or a human before your mutation?"

"A turtle," he said slowly.

She waited for his next question.

"Why do you want to help mutants?"

She twisted her lips in thought. "Because they are people too, and they deserve to have someone care for them when they are hurt."

"I've met a few that weren't people."

"I haven't," she replied. "Where did you live before you were a mutant?"

"The sewer."

Why does everyone seem to come from the sewer nowadays? she wondered. What happened to warehouses?

"Where do you live?" Slash asked. "On the street?"

"No," she smiled. "I live with my family in a haunted warehouse."

"A haunted warehouse?" His eyes went wide. "You mean, with ghosts."

She laughed outright. "Yes," she replied. "Four of them!" Seeing the look on his face, she went on, "It is very convenient. It keeps the humans away."

"You don't live with humans?" he asked.

"No," she replied, "and you have asked several questions in a row." She folded her arms across her chest, and he took another drink, finishing off the jar. "Where do you live now?"

"Wherever," he said. "Nowhere in particular."

"Do you have anyone to live with?"

He was quiet, as if considering his answer. "My partner abandoned me," he drawled.

"Oh, Slash," she said in her maternal voice. "That must have hurt."

He shrugged. "He was holding me back. I had learned everything I could from him."

"He taught you?"

There was another pause. "Everything I knew…"

"How are you surviving now?" she asked gently.

"On my wits," he replied, the self-pity in his voice disappearing. "I take care of the Kraang. Something my partner couldn't do."

"We need people to take care of the Kraang," Phoenix said. "There aren't enough…" her voice trailed off as a small pink triangle appeared at the opposite end of the ally. It grew in size, until it took up almost the entire section of the alley. Phoenix put her bags back on in a rush, and took out her slingshot. She knew that sickening-pink color. Apparently, so did Slash, he took out his club with the spikey ball at the end, and held it up. "Speak of the devil and who should appear," she muttered.

"You're pretty good if you can summon up Kraang," he said.

"That's not even funny," she replied, backing up from the pink triangle, and cocking her slingshot.

For a few long moments nothing happened, the pink triangle just taunted them at the end of the alley. Then, appearing out of nowhere, came a row of six Kraang robots, followed by another six.

Slash ran toward them, his weapon swung behind him, to come down on a robot, obliterating it. The rest of the eleven robots converged on him like ants to honey.

Phoenix began shooting at whatever she could, but she was afraid she'd hit Slash if she was too careless. She managed to hit one of the Kraang inside of the robot, and the robot fell to the side, pink gunk oozing on the ground underneath it. Her bullets pinged off several before hitting another in the eye, causing the head to turn backward.

Slash seemed to be holding his own for a few minutes, before the number of Kraang overwhelmed them.

"Fight them, Slash!" Phoenix encouraged, her bullets whizzing by and pinging off of robots.

Slash swung his club with the spikey ball again, and took out another robot, sending it flying against the building, where the robot fell apart. She noticed that the robots were almost completely ignoring her. Their movements were more coordinated than she'd seen before, they were attempting to drive Slash toward the triangle!

A great growl echoed behind them. Turning around, Arcos came bounding toward her.

"Arcos!" she cried, pointing to Slash. "Help him!"

"It is another one known as a mutant," said one of the robots. "Kraang must apprehend this mutant and take it to where it is not yet."

"Yes, Kraang," answered another. "Kraang must."

Arcos arrived at the second speaking Kraang robot, and whollopped it with his sledgehammer. It went flying with a great squishing sound.

Slash took out another robot, leaving five. Two of them jumped at him, and began to drag him bodily toward the triangle.

Arcos waved his hammer, not hitting anything, and ran toward the turtle. "Hold on!" he cried, wincing as a bullet flew by his head and caused a loud ping from one of the robots that held Slash. The bear was about to get to him, when they disappeared into the triangle, and it immediately closed, blanketing the alley in darkness.

He heard a squishing sound behind him, one of his mother's bullets having it another robot. It left two more of them, and it took him little time to finish them off.

"What was that pink triangle?" he asked, walking up to Phoenix.

"I don't know," she confessed. "A portal of some sort, I would guess."

"Maybe it leads to the TCRI building," Arcos suggested.

"Or one of their labs." She sighed, "He said that the Kraang were after him the last time I met him," she gestured toward where the triangle had been. "And then they said that about apprehending you."

"They're collecting mutants," he said. "That's not good."

"No," she agreed. "It isn't."

"Looks like we're going Kraang hunting again, huh?"

"Yes," she agreed again. "It does.