SCOUT

The bison-mutant snorted as his short tail swished back and forth, but it was his thin elongated lips that Scout had her eyes on. He spoke each word slow, as though she were stupid. "You… got… the… funds, Little Seeker?"

Scout thrust out her cleavage as she slipped two fingers and a thumb into the cusp of her bra. It was the last thirty bucks to her name, but it was worth it. She'd just have to hit up her uncles for more odd jobs, or maybe put in some more work at the parlor or the dojo. She almost wrinkled her nose at thought of scrubbing toilets again, but stopped herself. Looks got her far in this place, enough so that at fifteen she'd purchased a decent fake and was able to get in.

Drake, the bison, waved a hoof in front of her face. He snapped into focus in time for her to catch his remark. "You almost fool me into thinkin' you ain't really deaf, kid. Then you go off'n pull some of this shit and I know ya really are."

He took her money, counted and shoved it in his pocket. "Course, if ya weren't ya wouldn't be in at Ol' Tripp's club now would ya?" He snickered as he reached in his other pocket and pulled forth a tiny clear plastic packet with two shimmering pink gel caps inside.

Scout held her breath as she accepted them. His fur reeked of something akin to beer and feces. But she didn't want to offend him, not when he controlled her supply. Forcing a smile, she hoped wasn't as reminiscent of her father's as her brothers was, she batted her eyes for flourish.

"Thank you." She whispered or attempted to, from what she could remember the words should sound like. Squeezing the tiny packet in her palm a true smile crossed her lips. Time to head for the bar and get this night started.

Tripp's was the farthest thing from an upstanding club. The abandoned hotel that housed it was also homeless hybrid headquarters, a gathering place for misfits like her. Even though she wasn't homeless. Still, lately she felt more at home here than anywhere else.

Though she couldn't hear them, she felt the vibration of her heels clicking across the scuffed tile as she approached the bar. Reaching for the cracked leather barstool she pulled it away from the dingy counter and attempted to be as sexy as possible as she attempted to sit on it. Her efforts were thwarted when her cami-dress proved too short and too tight. She ended up squeezing her legs together and kind of hopped on. Forgetting that the darned seats spun, she found herself teetering badly toward the left before catching herself.

Zeke, the bearded dragon hybrid, bartender was laughing. As Scout's cheeks flushed with heat she was grateful she couldn't hear the sound. Her balance was shit for her lame lack of equilibrium, her eardrums malformed and useless, but she was about to fix that.

Her glittery purple nail polish amplified the pink of the Essence, the answer to all of her problems. The pang in her gut reminded her it was temporary, but she pushed that thought away. It was worth it.

Zeke placed a glass of water in front of her, winking when she looked up at him. Tearing open the packet she popped the two pills in her mouth, chased them with water and started imagining the sounds that would soon fill her silent world.

JEM

The streetlights cast a white glare across the pavement, his shadow wide and misshapen in comparison to a human. Whatever, he liked how he looked. As far as mutant-hybrids went he was a solid 9. He stopped walking at the familiar ringtone chiming in his jeans pocket. Fishing his phone out, Jem held the slender device in his hand, flinching at the absurd large white font spelling Mom that illuminated his screen. He was colorblind, not blind, yet his genius uncle insisted on programming his phone as though he were both.

Swiping a thick green thumb across the glass he began attempting to form answers for the questions his mother would likely have. Questions he didn't know the answer to. Questions he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to. Suppressing a sigh, he moved on to greeting her with his best impression of his chipper father- which instead came out sounding- well- not even close... "Hello, Mother. How are you?"

"Hello, Son." His mother wasn't impressed, which in her defense it was a lame attempt. "I'm actually pretty frustrated right now," she replied. "You see, I went to check on my fifteen-year-old twins and was shocked to find they are not in their room- and not in the sunroom. In fact, they're not home at all. Now, I know your dad and I have been working late at the parlor, but we've trusted you two to be responsible. You especially, Jem. So, what's going on?"

Well she didn't waste any time cutting to the quick. Jem sighed.

"Hello?" His mother barked. "Don't you huff at me. If you two can't follow the rules I'll have you at the restaurant bussing tables again."

Thoughts of smelling pizza all night, his mouth watering and his waistline expanding as he devoured stolen slices, were overrun with images of him being a fat turtle-hybrid all over again. His stomach turned. "No. Sorry, Mom, I'm on my way home now. I was just going to study with Nik and Shen, but it can wait. I'll turn around now." No way was he going back to being a fatty. Not after all his hard work of shedding the unhealthy pudge and those long extra hours at the dojo he put in to maintain it.

His mind flickered to his big sister and her sick obsession with 'beating him'. Like she ever came close to being fat in the first place. His head filled with images of a skeletal Allison lying in a hospital bed. For a while they hadn't been sure she'd make it.

"Jem?" His mother's voice disrupted his straying thoughts. "Are you listening? How long will it take the two of you to get here?"

Jem looked far down the near-empty streets. He had three options to avoid answering this question, yet while trying to remain as honest as was possible. Because the truth, in this situation, in his family- well they tended to overreact and he wasn't in the mood for the drama. So, option one, act like he didn't hear the whole question and just tell her he'll be home in about ten minutes then hang up before she can correct him. Option two- His mind went blank as he quickly dismissed an assortment of tiny lies—that the connection was bad he couldn't hear her—that he forgot something at Nik's and had to go back, but then hadn't he said he was on his way? Damn, this could get complicated fast.

"Jem! How long till you get home? It's not a trick question, Son."

He flinched at the bite in his mother's tone. Damn Scout for sneaking out. His parents didn't even text her, assuming they were together and they could just call and talk to him. Lately that left him stuck trying do what was right, while trying not to throw her under the train. He exhaled. He just wasn't made to lie, but sometimes he really hated the truth.

"Jem!"

Where was she? How long would she need him to cover for her? Was she in trouble? It's not like she couldn't handle herself. His fingers tightened over his phone and he reminded himself not to squeeze any tighter lest he'd break it. Screw it, if she could run off and leave him to face their parents and was gonna make a regular thing of it, assuming he'd always cover for her- well she had another thing coming. "I don't know where Scout is. But I'll be home in ten minutes. Love you, see you then, bye."

He disconnected the call then denied his mother's immediate call back. Instead he opted to send his straying five-minute younger sister a text to get her butt home.

SCOUT

Her stomach warmed first, like she'd drank cough syrup, the kind Mom only gave her when she was going to bed for the night. Soon though, very soon, that sensation would spread, first through her blood, then to her extremities… Her heart skittered. Last would come the reward she so desperately sought, a gift unattainable by either her healer Gran or her genius uncle. No. This gift she'd found in this place, all on her own.

Her pulse quickened as the warmth spread, thick and steady throughout. She inhaled deep like it was something she could smell, but only caught the suffocating clouds of smoke that loomed above her head, cigar, cigarette, pot, and Jive. There was a fix for everything here.

Exhaling a shaky breath, she slid off the barstool with more grace than she'd clambered onto it with. Time to go downstairs. Zeke waved at her, mouthed words or maybe spoke them she wasn't sure. "It workin' for you yet, Little Seeker?"

"Soon," she attempted to say. She wasn't sure how it sounded to him but he seemed to get the point, simply nodding and returning to his work.

But it would. It would. She rubbed her fingers against her palms as she strode across the lobby to what was once an elaborate grand staircase. Carpet so old and dirty it was peeling up at the edges of the steps greeted her footfalls. Silent, no recoil, not even a sensation. A frown toyed at the edges of her mouth. What if it didn't work this time?

The rhythm hit her skin first, tiny puffs, vibrations signaling a quick one-two beat. Her heart lifted. Just the feel of it quickened her pace. With every step, the sensation grew stronger. A pang rushed her heart. If only she could

It came like a distant purr. Tears of promise stung her eyes as she strode past the lower bar, girls dancing along the entirety of it. Beyond them, and the crowd clambering around trying to get drinks, or dates. She avoided eye contact with anyone. There was no time for small talk. Thought she enjoyed the blessing of voices too. No. This, this—The purr grew to a rumble that matched the beat pulsing against her skin.

Weaving through the crowd of mutants, hybrids, humans, and some mix of all three, some like her, some not. Supporters they called themselves. Normies she called them. Whatever, at least they weren't cruel. Pushing her way through she finally found her prize, half of it anyway, the other amplifying in her head by the second.

A bear mutant guard, bigger than her uncle Arcos, saw her approaching.

Please, Josh. Please. Please.

There was a line of girls waiting. The tape closed to them. The guard's black eyes met hers, opened wider, slowly his grizzly lips drew back in a grin. He stepped back, pulling the tape away as he beckoned her through. She climbed the stairs, on to an old theater stage, now dance floor.

They gathered quickly, must've been waiting for her. The bloodhound mutant-hybrid DJ winked at her, was already shifting things around to set up her track. Scout's heart was hammering, matching the growing roar inside her head. It was like a dream. Every. Single. Time.

Kato a cat mutant, Liam another deafie like her, and Jake a raccoon hybrid greeted her with their slick handshakes. Then there was Roxie, the buxom blonde normie in charge of performances. Microphone in hand, Roxie seemed to glide toward her, the dancing crowd parting on either side of her like Uncle Leo's katana sliced pizza. She wore too much make-up, her eyes coated with so much mascara Scout wondered that the woman could see. But Roxie was good to her. The engine in her head rose to a roar then fell away to the crowd below.

Perfect timing.

Scout accepted the microphone as the music queued. The first notes hit her ears and she heard every one, clear yet layered and blending, every instrument, every note, every single perfect sound. Kato, Liam and Jake lined up and they stepped into the choreography. That part she could do even when she couldn't hear. But this—Her mouth opened, her eyes closed, her heart lifted so high it soared beyond her broken eardrums and came right out her mouth.

The songs were never long enough.

Never.

But neither was the high.

The time she had though, hearing herself, hearing her friends, hearing her fans. Those were the moments she lived for.

Three songs. Two dance numbers. The boys scrambled to grab the cash the crowd threw onto the stage. Her tips. They'd share them. She'd use them to fund part of her next fix. The adrenaline was so high she was shaking as she followed the boys backstage where Jake would oversee the split.

"You were amazing, Seeker!" Kato's voice was a melodic sound, profoundly feline. She wondered if her Aunt Zoe sounded anything like him, if she had an underlining honeyed purr of a tone. Kato's silver-tabby striped arm hooked her around the waist, guided her close. His pink nose touched her cheek as he pecked it. "Amazing!"

Liam's high was fading, before hers. Maybe they'd been waiting longer than she knew. Or maybe he was needing a higher dose, like she was, but his voice came out that nasally broken feeble attempt to speak. "Even on this shit, I can't sing like that."

His cognac brown eyes were bright, blinking fast, fighting the same tears she shed every time it ended. His pain was hers too. She reached for him, hugged him tight. Inhaled the odd medicinal scent that clung to him. She swallowed the lump attempting to close her throat.

Jake's voice, a Brooklyn accent like her Uncle Raph's was one that not every deafie could read the lips on, but since she'd been doing it all her life she was capable. But for a few more seconds she wouldn't have to. "Hey, Seeker, here's ya' cut." He was farther away though, slipping too soon. He nudged her side and she pulled away from Liam, accepting her money from her friend. Jake had a Cheshire grin, his eyes ice blue beneath the black mask of fur outlining them. His fingers closed over her hand and he waved to the boys as he led her toward the exit.

Propping the door open with a folding chair he motioned her into the alley, the scent of grease billowing in from the diner next door. Scouts stomach rumbled. The sounds of a New York night rushed to her dying ears. Car horns, yelling, tires screeching, sirens, an ambulance, a cop car, the whirring swish, swish, swish from the highway. Then Jake's fur soft against her cheek, the tender pads of his fingers massaging the back of her hand. He guided her back against the brick wall, leaned his body against hers. His fur smelled of human cologne, she didn't mind the scent but wasn't overly fond of it either. His coat peeked out among the confines of his black t-shirt. Her heart was pounding. A hard, jerky beat. The cold sweat already pricking her skin. She leaned into him as the fading began.

"I've got ya', Little Seeker," he whispered directly into her ear. His lips puffed the air in, but his voice sounded like the volume on low. Soon it would be mute.

The cacophony of city life faded, replaced by the life force that surrounded it. The only other noise she knew. Her body began to tremble, her legs weak, stomach churning. He was holding her up now. Her eyes closed, face pressed to his shoulder as she clung to him, her grip loosening as her legs buckled.

Her mouth was so dry. Why didn't she drink more water this time? The roar returned, trapped in her skull, a horrible ache across the back of her head from ear to ear. Tears burned her eyes, dampened the gray-streaked fur of her friend.

Then Jake was yanked from her. Scout crumbled to the littered concrete, her eyes up, wet but searching. A handful of mutants, hybrids, and normies, tattooed with a strange symbol—somehow familiar… Who were these guys? They surrounded her friend, jabbing him in the shoulder. She couldn't see their mouths to read them. Blinking away tears she tried to control her withdrawing body, but it was weak, jittery inside and jerky out.

One of the humans punched Jake in the face, grabbed his shirt and slammed him in the wall again then again harder. Jake's head rocked hard against the brick. No! What was happening? What did they want?

Weapons, Scout. Look for weapons. No. Count them. Attackers. How many assailants? Four. Two normies. The others were mutants or hybrids, looked more animal than human so she couldn't tell for sure. A wolverine and some kind of wildcat. She didn't know any of them. What did they want? It didn't matter, they weren't friendly.

Now weapons. Knives, three. Guns, two. Okay. That's okay. No. No, it's not. Jake's head fell forward, limp when the wolverine mutant slammed him into the wall again, dropped him then picked him up. Oh, gods. How bad was he hurt? Scout's blood was thrumming, like she'd had too much caffeine. The mixed bunch was hovering over Jake now, so she couldn't see him. She opened her mouth to yell at them, but nothing came out. Maybe a squawk?

The wolverine stood up, Jake's cash in his hand. Their tips? No!

Scout wanted to close her eyes, to curl in a ball and wait out the horrible side effects of her down. How long would they last? She didn't have time for them now. She needed to defend herself and her friend. Her fingers curled into her palms. Why hadn't she at least packed a knife of her own? Her head was pounding, the throb so great she could feel a pulse behind her eyes. Her teeth ground together as a boot rushed toward her face.

Right before the toe of the wildcat's shoe could connect with her nose, Scout reached up with both hands, grabbed his foot and twisted. The cat-man let out a howl as his body went one direction and his foot the other. Scout scrambled, unsteady on her feet but fists up and as ready as she could be for the next attack. One normie was checking on his friend. The wolverine and the other human, knives drawn and moving toward her. At least they'd seemed to have forgotten they were carrying side-arms.

Scout's stomach was churning. Too much. Too much work right now. She breathed hard in through her mouth out through her mouth. Not good. Not good at all. Her eyes dropped to the human's knife, closest to her, held incorrectly. A novice. Good. His partner's weapon held firm but not white-knuckled. Little buddy could take a lesson from his friend. The novice attacked first, an overhead strike, she blocked quickly with a left-hand strike to his right forearm followed by her right hand flat out, her fingers jabbing him in the eyes like claws. She couldn't hear his scream but he dropped his weapon, flailing at his eyes.

As she staggered back, trying to control her now adrenaline-fueled shaking, her cash toppled from where she'd tucked it in the bust of her dress, fluttering like petals to the ground. No! The wolverine swiped at her now, a practiced attack, but still an overhand strike. She blocked him, this time curling her fingers around his bicep and pushing his hand toward her but down, leaning forward to drive her knee into his groin at the same time she disarmed him of his weapon.

How many were left? There were more, weren't there? Her head was hurting so bad the edges of her vision were blurry and her eyes ached like she had a fever. Still holding the knife, her gaze searched the ground covered in bills, skimming over the heap of Jake. She staggered toward him, touching his shoulder. He blinked, then his mouth parted in an "O" right as a sharp pain sliced through Scout's right shoulder. She attempted to scream as the heat of her blood met cold air, her slashed muscle sending her to a new level of agony. Instinct commanded her to spin around, swiping her weapon-holding hand toward her attacker. There had been four, hadn't there? How had she missed that?

The last human, the one who'd been checking on his friend, danced, ducked and weaved. Scout's teeth clenched as she struggled to hold herself together. So much pain. Heavy arms, pounding head, injured shoulder. Jake was on his feet now, unsteady in her periphery. The dance moved in a semi-circle with her and Jake facing the street. An exit. Her eyes flickered to the ground then back to her attacker's wide black pupils. Jake was tugging on her free hand now and the two backed away. Scout's heart sank as Jake pulled her farther down the alley, while the last standing assailant gathered her money. She could still take him. Get it back. She could do it. Her blood rushed hot, stomach lurched and she crumbled, heaving.