u/CastorOfTheInk

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Chapter 5: All the Kings Men

The police officer's voice was droning on as Sylvia stared at the door, her thoughts racing. She thought about Joseph, the look on his face when she came in. She had never seen the boy like that, not in the 5 years he'd been hanging around the bodega.

“Lady, you listenin’?”

“I- what?” Sylvia snapped back to attention as the officer tapped his notepad, sighing.

“We got fingerprints for over a dozen people, empty shelves and signs of a fight and you're telling me you got no information that might help?” He stared at her skeptically, eyebrows furrowed as she glared back.

“I told you, no. I can't afford cameras and you jerks picked up the homeless guy who used to watch the alley last week. What else would I have?” She crossed her arms, leaning against the front of the counter. Grumbling, the officer closed his notebook. He turned to the door, but stopped, sniffing the air.

“You got a deep fryer in here or somethin'?”

“No, we ain’t got a hot food license.” Sylvia rolled her eyes as the cop sniffed again, before heading to the door with a shrug. She had just spent the last 30 minutes trying not to mention the two idiots, while he grilled her about an “apparent disturbance”.

“Call us if you hear anything, alright?” The door clacked shut and Sylvia sighed, her shoulders dropping. She pulled out her compact, sliding it open and looking in the tiny mirror.

She could see the greenish tracks left by her tears. The skin beneath was already turning red and irritated.

“God damn it…” She quickly scrubbed at her face with a makeup wipe, pulling out a bottle of liquid foundation. It didn't cover as well as the spray tan, but at least she wouldn't walk around looking like a cartoon witch.

She winced as she applied the makeup over the reddening welts, making a mental note to ask the doctor to up her prescription. When she was finished, she looked around the bodega again. The main floor was cordoned off, little number signs by each blood splatter.

She could still see Jack, struggling to keep ahold of Joseph. They didn't get it, they didn't know what she had to do for this little piece of “normal”. Now she might lose it and them.

Shaking her head, she pulled out her cell phone, scrolling through until she reached Jack's number.

He was too big to use a regular cell phone, instead opting for a novelty house phone shaped like a football with big rubber buttons.

Sylvia almost smiled as she imagined it, her finger hovering above the dial button.

—--------------------------------------------------------

The pair of them walked up the street, the early morning sun casting their shadows in front of them. Joseph could feel the heat radiating off of the larger man. Whether it was anger or hunger, he wasn’t sure, but it was strong. Despite the warm sunshine, Jack still wasn't sweating. Joseph could smell it- clinging to his clothes and hair, but Jack was oil free.

In fact, he seemed bigger than Joseph had ever seen him, but then again, everyone looks big from 2 feet off the ground. The boy shook his head, looking around at the quickly filling street. People were filtering in and out of doorways, slowly shuffling off to work or starting cars parked near the curb. He could feel the finger in Jack's pocket. It itched the back of his head, as if the asshole himself were standing between them.

He wasn't sure what to say. Thinking back to the bodega, he remembered how it felt. Watching that asshole stick his hand out like he had a treat. It made his blood boil. The feeling of biting his finger off a few moments later was… satisfying.

He hadn't really meant to, but in his mind the guy deserved it. It was their fault Jack got hurt to begin with. He gave a mental shrug and went back to focusing on his surroundings. He was beginning to smell the familiar scent of gas station food and diesel as the city came to life.

As they walked, the growing crowd seemed to part like a fish. Jack quickly abandoned his normal care, his natural gait rolling his massive shoulders like a bull dog. It seemed almost natural, seeing him stride forward as people seemed to instinctually move out of his way.

As the boy observed him, Jack seemed lost in thought, for once not paying any mind to the people and their stares. Joseph never cared about the tiny looks he got. Most people were too chicken to stare openly, and the kids who stared were usually good sports about it.

There were others though, people like the sub rats, people who just wanted to put him in a collar, on a leash. He had seen plenty of them over his lifetime, they always claimed to want what was best for him.

They never wanted him to just be.

“Oh my god-” A middle aged woman gasped as she halted in a nearby doorway, seeing Jack and Joseph. It seemed to snap Jack out of his reverie as he looked first at the woman, then at Joseph. His gaze lingered on Joseph's black eye and the bandages falling from his ribs, revealing the deep purple bruise.

With a mumbled apology, they moved past her, Jack steering the duo towards Terra Heights. Grimacing, he rolled his neck and Joseph could see the mark from his bite faded to a dull pink outline.

“We goin’ to your place?” Joseph let his tongue loll out of his mouth, tasting the sharp air. Jack just glanced down, before grunting the affirmative, his eyes still far off.

A sudden itch bit the back of Joseph's head. A familiar rumble, a car he'd seen enough to be wary of. He turned just enough to see it out of his periphery. The SUV was lifted and black, a red and blue light bar bolted to the top. Across the side was a white banner, emblazoned with a simplified image of a knight bearing a shield.

He nudged Jack's leg with his hip, turning to look ahead of him. “Cops comin’ up.” He could feel the itch getting closer, the skin on his neck bunching up. Jack looked at him for a beat, before glancing casually over his shoulder.

He turned back, never breaking his stride, but quietly slipped a hand in his pocket, nodding once.

They began to pick up the pace, hearing the suv stop behind them. The sound of doors opening and boots hitting pavement was almost lost in the early morning din.

Joseph looked… pointed. His head was down, eyes hooded as he quickly slipped between the people on the sidewalk. Jack did his best to muscle through, but as the crowd grew, he found himself watching as Joseph disappeared.

“Hey, sir! Big guy!” Jack froze. “Lemme, talk to you, sir!” They were talking to him, no doubt. No where to go.

No time.

Jack took his hand out of his pocket and started turning. He didn't know what else to do. So he did what he could. Like the world's biggest pill, he popped the finger in his mouth, swallowing hard as he faced the 3 uniformed officers in front of him.

They stopped, staring angrily as he swallowed.

“Sir… what was that?” Jack looked at him confused. The three men were wearing black police uniforms, covered with plates of silvery black material. Instead of tazers and pistols, they had heavy duty stun batons and pepper ball shooters.

“We ain't gonna ask again. What'd you eat?” One of the officers gripped his baton, ready to pull it out. Jack raised his hands placatingly at the men.

“It was my meds, I ain't wanna miss ‘em.” He said, much calmer than he felt. One of the officers pulled out a palm sized device.

“Gimme your ID.” Jack started to pull his wallet out, the officer snatching it from his hand. The other two eyed him warily, as he scanned it.

“What meds you on, Holder?” He didn't look up, staring hard at the little device.

“Uh… 12mg of Obexequil, twice a day.” One of the officers whistled, sounding impressed. With a grimace the other officer passed back his ID.

“He's clear.” His voice sounded frustrated and the other officers seemed to relax a hair as Jack slowed the ID in his wallet. His stomach was… tightening. Like it was curling around itself. That same fiery feeling, but intensified.

“Thanks for your time, sir.” The officers turned, heading back for the SUV. Jack's eyes bored into the back of their uniforms, white letters glaring back at him- KNIGHT.

Joseph carefully trotted out of a nearby alcove, his eyes on the retreating officers.

“Did you, uh…” Joseph paused, looking up at Jack. The big man was shaking, a vein bulging in his temple.

“Yup. Yup, I did.”

Excerpt from Biology and Evolution, An Exploration of Gaia, 3rd Edition, 2004

Fig. 1a

The Gaia Gene is a metabolic function of DNA rather than a specific genetic marker. Seemingly having evolved before true life, it is present in every animal on earth, in a dormant or active state.

Fig. 1b

Categories:

Anterogenic: Gene symptoms expressing via abilities which are not able to be tied to altered biology.

Transgenic: Gene Symptoms present at birth which progress and grow over the afflicted's lifetime.

Coptogenic: Gene symptoms which change the afflicted's outward appearance or internal anatomy with no discernable difference in function or disabling side effects.

Anthrogenic: Gene symptoms which express as altered anatomy bearing a resemblance to the form and function of the anatomy of non-human species. Generally present from birth. Anthrogenics represent the lowest percentage of gaia Afflicted with disabling or functionally inconvenient symptoms.

Metagenic: Gene symptoms which do not express unless "activated" via external or internal stimuli, facilitating a physical or biological change to the afflicted. Can appear dormant. (Note: Subjects are capable of “toggling” their symptoms on and off via mental stimulus or outside stimulus, resulting in startling physical transformations.)

Macrogenic: Symptoms expressed completely re-write DNA and anatomy with matching function.

Microgenic: Symptoms express on a cellular level, most often inhibiting or aiding natural ability with little to no external change.

Dormant Gaia Gene: Bearer has no symptomatic expression.

Active Gaia Gene: Bearer has one or several active symptoms, referred to medically as being "afflicted".

Fig. 1c

"On Gaia Gene Expression throughout History

By G. Wright

In modern times, we have many names, categories and terminologies for the Afflicted. In our far past we had none of these. The Afflicted were the stuff of folklore and myth, if they survived at all.

And with such low population density, the rarity of such expression was exponential. This being said, it is theorized that several notable figures throughout history have wielded abilities not only proven viable by the Gaia Gene, but proven as being possible with the current Gene Expression pool.

Among the current Afflicted with folklore-esque abilities, we have Tidal Tom. Despite his criminal proclivities, he has the ability to not only manipulate, but control water molecules to a limited extent. And of course we have the infamous influencer, JadedJesus whose ability to walk on water has garnered attention across the internet.

I posit, that these are not “random” genetic expressions, but specific genetic patterns passed down through ancient familial lines.

If this were true, our entire society would need to reshape its view of history …"

Interlude: Many Faces

Gene sat on the roof of the transport with the luggage. Inside, Jay, Pompom and Executive were nestled into comfortable seats, Pompom sedated into docility. Goliath rode in a horse trailer pulled by the vehicle. Gene chose to sit on top, to get away from the rest of them. He couldn't stand them, their callous attitudes, their lack of regard. Their eyes.

Behind him, a low, smooth voice whispered over the desert wind rushing by.

“What a joke. What're you scared of? Kill them, you won't feel a thing.” He tried to ignore it, to close his eyes and picture happy things.

He could feel Invulnerable Man standing over him, swaying against the movement of the transport. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to ignore him.

“Stop needling him, he just needs time to bounce back. Haha!” The second voice was high pitched, giggly. Gene opened his eyes, seeing the blurry figure of Rubberband hanging precariously from the side of the transport, his neck stretched out like a demented periscope.

He said nothing, turning to look back out at the desert before them. On the hood of the transport, Crashtest stared back at him with blank eyes, body limply flapping in the breeze.

He placed his head in his hands, feeling the unsteady road beneath their car.

“Please… leave me alone…” The words were almost groaned, like water escaping a rusty pipe.

When he opened his eyes again, the three men had disappeared, leaving him seated alone.

Riding through the desert on a Freedom Force transport.

Gene sighed and looked at the small village in the distance. Smoke was already beginning to rise from the various signal fires.

3 thumps against the roof of the transport let him know it was almost time. Gene stood up, swaying slightly against the motion as he tightened the plastic dummy mask over his face. It was blank and featureless, like him.

It was an easy maneuver. Wait for the car to brake, launch himself off and towards the enemy. Absorb any fire. Easy. Easy.

It was so easy.

—---------------------------------------

His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. Hidden behind a pair of expensive sunglasses, Jay Krate's eyes were hooded and bloodshot as he stared into the desert sands, waiting for a visual on the target.

It wasn't nerves affecting him, but the slow, agonizing itch of constant pressure beneath his skin. He could feel his insides swelling, muscle and skin tightening. He was late for his chemo. Again.

Beside him, the Executive tapped away on a mini-laptop with gloved hands. A small smile played over the sharp man's face, irritating Krate further.

“Another 4 clicks, Sergeant.” His tone was dry and respectful, but Jay always had the feeling the businessman was telling a joke only he knew.

“Right.” His voice rumbled from deep in his chest, far louder than one might expect in the small cabin. Behind them, in the back seat, Pompom stretched, her toe claws scraping the window as she yawned. Her sharp teeth clicked as she closed her mouth, curling into a tight ball.

“Shame, we can't all get some fucking sleep…” Jay mutters to himself, feeling the leather creak under his grip. As he grumbled, small, worn buildings appeared on the horizon, the first signs of smoke appearing in the air.

“Looks like they're expecting us.” He raised a hand, punching the roof 3 times to signal Gene.

“Indeed.” The Executive carefully pulled his hands from the gloves, folding them and storing them in the breast pocket of his suit. The laptop was placed on the dash.

“Let's give them a warm greeting, Sergeant.”

—-----------------------------

The air was dry and dusty, even within the expensive jeep. She had been sleeping for hours, barely aware of the jolts and bumps of the road. When she finally came to, it wasnt from Jay knocking on the roof. It was from an adrenaline shot, administered through her control collar. A hefty chunk of metal disguised as gaudy jewelry.

She leapt up from the seat, seeing an empty car around her, doors open. As her senses came back, she could hear gunfire and shouting outside, her mouth curling into a feral grin. Like a tiger, she slunk from the car, dropping to all fours before silently padding around the side of the nearest building. Several screams began to echo through the desert.

—---------------------------------

It was hot and dry. The walls of the trailer shook and rattled, beams of light bouncing this way and that from the tiny slitted windows. In the dim space, a massive form sat. Its thick, stumpy legs were splayed as it sat against the far wall.

Goliath was nearly 12ft tall. A mass of keratinized shell, scales and skin. He shifted slightly, his scales grating loudly against the rusted metal. The trailer screeched to a stop and Goliath began to lean forward, unable to stand in the confined space.

The doors opened, letting sharp sunlight stream in, causing the beast to squawk quietly in discomfort.

His huge, clawed hands gripped the edge of the trailer as he pulled himself out, his massive body bending and twisting the metal as his shell caught on the doors hinges.

He turned slow, just in time to see the Sergeant striding forward with his AR leveled at several men in turbans. The Executive was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear Pompom's sub-audible growls from across the village.

Suddenly a grenade thudded gently at Goliath’s feet. He stared down dumbly, reaching out to grab the small object.

The explosion sent a plume of dust and sand into the air, obscuring him. Krate turned back to look, the terrorists pausing their shouts and commands. It wasn't silent, just… paused.

With the rumble of an Earthquake, Goliath charged forward out of the smoke, barreling towards the men who tried to scramble away. His beak hung open, thick arms outstretched towards the men.

They didn't move fast enough. The armored behemoth slammed into the men and the building, crashing through its outer wall and disappearing inside.

(((If you enjoyed, please leave a comment or a like. I'd really appreciate any feedback.)))

Chapter 4: Mountains and Mole Hills

Sylvia had always enjoyed early mornings. She made a point to get up at 4:30am, far earlier than she needed to open the bodega.

Looking in the mirror, she frowned at her reflection. Her face just never seemed to fit, her eyes just a smidge top big. Sighing, she leaned forward, popping out her contacts and placing them into a small dish of saline. Beneath, her eyes were a deep, blueish-black and multifaceted.

It was one of the things her medication couldn't “fix”, along with her green skin. As her contacts soaked, she stripped out of her pajamas, revealing pointy, thin bones under taut skin. Two breasts that barely broke the curvature of her chest and a nearly concave stomach.

She'd never been able to put on much weight, but her current medication at least let her wear a size 0.

Hopping into the shower, she quickly scrubbed off her apparent skin as the water turned murky brown. Underneath, her skin was a vibrant green and almost shiny. She stepped out drying off, before dropping the towel and standing in front of a full length mirror.

She grabbed a spray can from the counter and quickly began spraying herself, her emerald skin turning to a deep tan.

Once she was done, she grabbed a setting spray and spent nearly 30 minutes making sure she'd covered herself head to toe. Then came the makeup.

She considered it the most important, going from a costume, to a tired, yet pretty, normal woman.

Finished, she smiled and headed to her bedroom, picking out her clothes for the day. Once she was finished she headed to the kitchen, making a small cup of coffee and some toast.

She wasn't really able to eat the way everyone else did. Her body was so thin that anything aside from liquid had to be consumed in tiny portions and she could hardly stomach more than a piece or two of bread before she was full.

After eating, she locked up, hopped in her car and began the short drive to her bodega. She wouldn't describe herself as happy per se, but she was content. She had her apartment, her car.

She had Joseph, even though he'd come and go as he pleased.

And she had Jack. She thought back to the day he'd wandered in, looking for a job. He had been wearing greasy sweatpants and flip flops, asking if he could take out the trash or move boxes.

She should've turned him away. The way he shouldered into the shop, dirty and unkempt. He was so greasy, his normally curly hair was matted to his head.

She should've called the cops, but something about him was so… Pathetic.

It was like looking at an abandoned tractor, begging to be let back into the fields.

She turned a corner onto the same street as the bodega, seeing the shop about a block away. The lights were on.

“They're probably eating the Carne Asada.” She thought to herself with a smile. Ever since the first day she'd brought him lunch, he'd loved her cooking. Said he never had meat cooked with so much flavor.

She pulled into the small parking lot next door and quickly climbed out, careful not to catch her hair in the door. Walking around the front of the building, the door was suddenly flung open and two men marched out. They looked pissed, and nearly ran into her as she walked past. One of them, a normal enough guy, was cradling his arm and swearing as he walked.

Worried, she quickened her pace, jogging to the front door and yanking it open. Stepping inside, she was greeted by the sight of Jack, trying to keep a frantic Joseph in a bear hug.

The boy was snarling in a way Sylvia had never heard, his eyes wide and panicked. Jack was grunting and huffing as the boy writhed in his arms, desperately trying to turn enough to bite the bigger man. There was a spatter of blood on the floor and Jack had several scratches and minor bites on his arms.

“God- Goddamnit, Jo, fucking stop! What the hell're you doing?!” Jack slipped, his knees sliding out from under him as the two crashed to the floor, Sylvia staring dumbfounded.

Joseph twisted his head, clamping down on Jacks meaty shoulder as the sweaty man roared, bodily throwing the raging youth into a nearby shelf. Sylvia flinched as the steel shelf crashed down, Joseph quickly climbing to his feet, but limping slightly.

The two stared at each other like animals in the jungle, neither saying a word. It was merely tense, until-

“Dios mio… m-my store…” Sylvia sank to her knees looking at the blood, empty shelves and wreckage.

She had expected to find Jack, busted up again, or Joseph stuck in another rodent trap. Instead she found a half-empty war zone.

Joseph looked at her briefly, lowering his head and stepping off of the collapsed shelf gingerly. Jack continued staring at Joseph, anger written on his meaty face. He swiped a hand across his forehead, smearing blood and sweat.

He was bleeding from several scratches and bite marks, Joseph bearing his own quickly blackening eye and bloody maw. One of his teeth was gone, lost somewhere in the melee.

“What… what did you do?” Jack turned to look at her slowly, small puffs of steam rising from his wounds. Joseph seemed to shrink in on himself, face nearly pressed into the floor.

The big guy huffed and hauled himself upright. “I, uh…” he raised a hand to scratch his head, pausing as he saw the blood dripping from his wounds.

Outside, he could hear the distant wailing of a siren. Joseph crept up to the skinny woman tentatively only for her to push him away weakly, tears welling in her eyes.

“Why?I helped you! I helped both of you fucking capullos, what the fuck?!” Sylvia began sobbing, tears leaving greenish tracks on her cheeks.

Both young men stared at her, dumbfounded. As maternal as she was, neither had ever seen their boss, their only caretaker, like this.

Sylvia wrapped thin arms around herself, clambering awkwardly to her feet, sniffling and gasping.

“Get out.” Her voice was so quiet, but it hit Jack like a truck. He flinched and waved a hand, trying to make light.

“It's alright, we can clean-”

“Both of you get the fuck out. Now.” Joseph paced in a tight circle next to her as she stared at the empty shelves.

Jack didn't know what to say. What could he have said?

He walked past her, pushing open the door just as the sun started coming up. He grimaced, squinting his eyes. He could feel Joseph just behind him.

He let the door close behind him, sighing heavily as he heard the lock click.

“Some deep shit, Jo.” The young man looked up at him, a strange look on his face. After a moment, he retched violently, a small, tattooed finger plopping to the pavement. An image of a rat tail, curling around the joint.

Sylvia stood, her head pressed against the Frosted glass of the front door, her fingers still resting on the lock. Outside, she could see Jack and Joseph's silhouettes. They looked lost.

Jacks silhouette eventually bent down as the sirens became louder, picking something up before the pair began to walk down the street.

Turning, she looked at the mess of her store. Empty, broken shelves, ripped packaging clogging the trash. Across the room she could see a shard of her plate lying on the counter. The same plate that held carne asade.

Chapter 3: Here be Monsters

Jack slowly shuffled out of the little storeroom, Joseph following at his heels. The teen hadn't said much as they dozed, but Jack got the sense that he was dealing with his own inner turmoil.

Jack himself felt… strange. His body was light and yet, heavier than he'd ever felt. It was like he was a car running on fumes. Every step made his head swim and the sound of blood in his ears threatened to drown out everything else.

They made their way into the main part of the store, Jack seeing a foil-covered plate next to the till. There was a note, scrawled on the foil in sharpie.

“I'll be back in the morning. Get some rest and make sure Joseph eats.”

Jack smiled wearily, before pulling the foil off of the plate. It was piled high with Carne Asade, grilled peppers and toasted tortilla. At the sight of it, Jack felt himself start to drool, but when the smell hit him it was like the bottom dropped from his stomach. He gripped the edge of the counter, lightheaded as Joseph peered up at him in concern.

“...you alright, man?” Joseph's voice seemed to come from a million miles away, ringing hollow in Jacks ears. His vision flickered and tightened as he stared down at the food. Joseph stepped forward, pushing Jack's leg with a shoulder.

When Jack looked down, for a brief moment, he didn't see Joseph.

He just saw meat.

It felt like his mind was slowing down, like he was chasing around thoughts that he couldn't seem to grasp. Looking down at his young friend, he couldn't help but recoil as his stomach growled loudly.

He could feel it. The sensation of biting down into a squirming body. Breaking bone, tearing flesh. It was like he was made for it.

Joseph, seeing the look on Jacks face, took a couple steps back, uncertain. The large mans knuckles were turning white against the counter, muscle and veins bulging beneath saggy skin. He could feel every atom of his being scream “EAT”.

“Jack?” Joseph's voice was small, so small. He was so small. So fragile. So… filling.

Jack could feel the blood fill his mouth, the tension of limbs under his grip. His hands went slack as he turned fully towards Joseph. The boy was backing nearly under the shelf, his eyes wide, unruly hair pointing in every direction.

Jack felt his foot move by itself, taking a step. Joseph flattened himself to the ground and for the first time ever, growled. It was a low, menacing noise, not like a dog. It was more of a deep, gurgling rumble that came from the boy's chest.

There was a beat where the two stared at each other, neither moving an inch.

Jack broke first.

With a noise like an angry buffalo, he turned, grabbing a fistful of carne asade and roughly shoving it into his mouth. He barely chewed, forcing the meat down his gullet by the handful, scattering tortilla and peppers across the counter and floor.

After a few fistfuls, the plate was bare, but Jack just reached below, grabbing handfuls of slim Jim's and snack sticks from the shelf. He bit through the plastic, grunting and groaning wildly as the food filled his stomach. His body was hot, it felt frantic, this wasn't enough.

Joseph watched in horror as his friend lost all control, grabbing anything within reach, his body filling out with every bite he took. Jack was stuck in a fervor, his brain fully devoted to refilling his tank. He viciously dug into anything he could find, anything with any amount of protein.

Joseph eventually disappeared, hiding beneath the till. Jack continued to eat, only slowing to pull bits of foil and plastic from between his teeth. To Joseph, it felt like an eternity went by. To Jack, it felt like it was just beginning.

Eventually, Jack sat there, back against the front of the register counter. The store was quiet, half the shelves knocked over, torn packaging scattered. He just sat there, staring down at his hands, feeling waves of ecstasy and delirium shaking his mind. It felt like every cell was on fire in the best way possible.

Slowly, he sank fully to the floor, laying parallel to the counter. Jack looked up at the ceiling, contemplating how to apologize for nearly eating someone.

“You wasn't never meant to see me like that, Jo.” Jack's voice was strained, but apologetic. He waited for a few seconds, seeing if the boy would respond. He didn't. Jack sighed, holding his arm up. He could feel the cool air gliding over his skin and realised that, for once, he wasn't oily.

“I, uh…. I was always like this. Had teeth the day I was born, bit my momma on the way out. Tried to take my daddies fingers off. Bit kids at school when I was old enough. I ain't wanna hurt em,” Jack paused, listening, but Joseph remained quiet. “I was just… hungry.”

“They put me on all kinda meds, nearly drove my daddy insane with the bills, but I stopped tryin’ to eat people. I… don't particularly like the idea of eatin’ folks, so that was good.” Jack heard a quiet snort from the other side of the counter and smiled softly.

“Never growled at anyone before. Didn't know I could.” Joseph said and padded around the side of the counter. He rolled his neck, shaking out his back leg. He looked nonchalant, but Jack could tell he was keeping his distance.

“you feeling better, big guy?” Jack did his best to nod while laying down. He wasn't hungry anymore. Or tired, in fact. He felt like he could run a marathon.

“Yeah… Yeah, I think so.” Joseph leaned forward, grabbing a wad of plastic with his teeth.

“Good, now get to it,” He mumbled around the trash, putting his front paws on the edge of the garbage can in order to drop it in.

“Cause if Sylvia she's this, we're both dying.” Jack sat up, looking around and realizing what he'd done.

“Oh. Well, I'm not getting paid this week.” He grimaced, climbing to his feet and kicking wads of refuse closer to the trash can.

They worked in a comfortable silence, Joseph began running around the store, digging out scraps of trash and food that had been flung in every direction. Jack grabbed a broom and dustpan, sweeping it up and throwing it all away.

When the can was full, Jack pulled the bag out and tied it off. It was nearly half his height, but Joseph bounded over, snatching the bag out of his hand with a yank of his head.

“I got it-” and before Jack could respond, the teen had dragged the bag through the double doors and into the backroom, heading for the dumpster. Jack just shrugged. Seemed hard to do, but the kid had been able to do strangers things in the past.

As he stood there, looking at the empty shelves, Jack was struck by the immense weight of his situation. He'd done hundreds of dollars worth of damage and probably lost the one person who didn't think he was a monster.

He sighed, picking up a box of snack cakes and beginning to restock the shelf. As he did so, the door opened. Jack heard the bell jingle and called out “Sorry! We're still closed, ya'll.” A smooth voice called out over the shelves in response.

“Yeah, uh…. Where's the dog at?” Jack raised his head sharply, peering at the door. 2 men stood just inside, one had bright green eyes and no pupils to speak of. The other seemed to be a normal human.

“We ain't got no dogs.” Jack said flatly, he had a feeling he knew what was going on. The one with the green eyes chuckled as the normie stepped forward, boot crunching on a wrapper they'd missed.

“Hey, look. We heard he saw some nasty business and we just wanna make sure he knows what's what, ya know?” The man laid a hand on the shelf and Jack could see another cartoon rat tattooed on his wrist, the tail curling around his pinky.

Just as Jack turned to face the man fully, Joseph came bounding through the double doors, skidding to a stop when he saw the two men. Instantly, the boy froze, his body dipping low to the ground.

“See, there he is,” The thug said, voice dripping.

“Who's a good boy?”

Chapter 2: Knights and Dragons

Jack stared out of the opening loading dock. He'd finished putting away the truck, logged all the overflow stock and re-sorted it. He'd triple checked the inventory list and even cleaned the backroom. He still had 4 hours left of work.

So he sat on the edge of the Loading dock, waiting for Sylvia to call him for a ladder or to help a customer.

It was pretty apparent that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon.

Jack was so entrenched in his own misery, he almost missed the sound of feet sliding on pavement and the subtle murmur of low voices.

Realizing there was someone behind the store, Jack cautiously peeked his head out, looking around into the alley.

3 men were standing with their backs to Jack, talking in a low voice. One of them had a tattoo of a leering, cartoonish rat on the back of his neck.

They were Subrats. A street gang that pretty much lived in the abandoned subway beneath Midtown. They weren't particularly dangerous, more like homeless junkies than anything else.

That is until Jack saw one of them lash out with a foot and heard a quick, sharp yelp in response.

Squinting, Jack could see an awkward shape crouched before the group of men, who began laughing.

It was Joseph. They'd stripped off his shirt and fixed a spiked collar around his neck, tied to a piece of rope held by neck-tattoo. The boy just crouched there, shivering and hollow eyed until his gaze drifted far enough to see Jack through the prison bars of the Subrats legs.

He didn't say anything, but Jack wouldn't have heard it anyway. His pulse was pounding in his ears like a war drum and he could feel his body growing hot.

He climbed to his feet, quietly stepping down the loading ramp. Joseph tried to turn and walk out of the alley, only to have neck-tattoo yank the rope back. He whimpered, looking up past them at Jack, looming behind them.

“You stupid fucks-” Jack paused as the men turned to him, hand raised to strike at the one holding the leash, a flicker of movement dragging his eyes downward.

He looked to see an actual, honest-to-god rat tail curling from beneath the man's shirt, wrapped around a knife handle, currently buried in Jack's chest. He grunted, feeling the air leaving his lungs, replaced by a new sensation.

“Oh, fuck! Taz, what the hell?!” One of the other men shoved Neck-tattoo as he released his grip on the knife and Jack began to drop to the ground, cradling the blade.

“Taz” dropped the leash, turning and yelling at his companions.

“I didn't fuckin’ see em! He walked into the shit!” The theee began to go back and forth, assigning blame. As the 3 argued, Joseph let out a whine, staring at Jack with big eyes.

“...Jack?”

“Get on, now, Joseph.” Jack said in a low whisper and watched as the boy turned, scuttling out of the alley and towards the front of the store.

The Subrats were still going on as Jack slowly pulled the knife free, gasping for breath. He could hardly feel any pain, just a burning heat, yet as he pulled he realised the knife was nearly 6 inches long.

“Jesus!” One of the subrats had noticed him, seeing the knife slide free and Jack, his face pale and slick with a greasy film. The knife came out with a sickening sound, like a branch being pulled from mud. He dropped it on the ground, his hands trying to stem the blood as it mixed with the oil dripping from his face.

“Fuck this, let's go.” The rat tail snaked out, snagging the knife out of Jack's view, even as he could hear the Subrats running off.

Staring at his chest, he could feel his pulse race as his vision tunneled. He could swear he almost saw the wound bubbling and sizzling, angry at its own existence. He tried to scoop the blood back into the wound, to no avail as an unbearable heat took over his torso. His wound was more than just sizzling now, steam was rising from the gash, obscuring his vision.

As he slumped to the ground, he could just barely make out Joseph and Sylvia rounding the corner into the alley.

—---------

Jacks eyes fluttered open like a dying moth, slowly and barely aware. He was in a dim room, laying on… something hard. He moved to raise a hand and it felt like he was lifting a car.

He flopped his hand onto his chest, feeling that his overalls were unclipped, pushed down to expose his chest.

His chest.

Despite the pain and fatigue, Jack sat upright like he was spring-loaded, hand scrabbling at his chest, searching for the knife wound. A wound that wasn't there.

In its place, he could feel a knotted, blistered scar about 3 inches long, right above his heart. He let his fingers walk over the scar, feeling its shape. It was… strange.

He felt different. Empty, in a way he never had before. He was hungry, but it was something deeper than that, like something was gone.

Jack felt the skin of his chest stretch and slide as he probed the scar. He'd lost weight. A lot of it seemingly. It felt hollow. His mind worked in circles, unable to grasp how he'd healed.

A door suddenly opened across the room, revealing the small space, a few mops and buckets in the corner. Jack himself sat on a stack of unfolded cardboard, now greatly compressed and stained with blood and grease.

Sylvia stood in the lit doorway, staring at him with concern. Behind her, Joseph peeked in between her legs, face unreadable. Jack raised a hand weakly.

“Hey, ya'll.” His hand dropped down to his side, as Joseph trotted into the room. The boy had bandages around his ribs, a black bruise fading to yellow just outside the bandage. His shirt dangled in a bunch around his neck.

The boy quietly laid down next to the stack of boxes, resting his chin on his paws. Sylvia carefully stepped into the room, flicking on the light. Jack winced, squinting, but remained upright. “How long was I… asleep?” He said gingerly.

“Too long, Jack. I was that close to calling an ambulance. That close.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but firm and angry. “You collapsed behind the store, you know I had to move your big ass?” Her tone was angry, but her eyes watered.

“Stupid fucking…” Jack grimaced as she cursed under her breath, looking down at his hands, they looked oddly… small. The skin on his arms was just loose enough to be disconcerting.

“I'm sorry, Sylvia. I ain't know what else to do.” She turned away from him, looking back through the doorway.

“You could have died.” He nodded slowly, seeing Joseph lift his head slightly.

“But I didn't. And I'm fine, see?” She whirled around, marching forward and jabbing a finger at his scar, making him cringe back.

“But you weren't fine! Your chest was split open and your insides were bubbling like a fucking deep fryer, Jack!” Tears streamed down her face, but she quickly wiped them away with her sleeve.

“You're fucking crazy. Or stupid. Pendejo.” With that she turned on heel and walked out of the room. Jack stared after her for a few seconds, still trying to comprehend it all.

“How did she move me alone?” Joseph snorted, still not looking up.

“Pallet jack.”

“Oh.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

“No problem, buddy.”

​

Chapter 1: Giants in Fairyland

“...Obexequil is a new Gaia Gene Therapy from Pyrelite industries. Focused on those whose bodies tend to do a bit too much growing, it targets your metabolism directly, limiting the energy your body can use to express symptoms.” On the warped screen, a before and after image showed a man whose hands and fingers were grossly stretched out, and then him in a normal pair of gloves, smiling and gardening.

“Do not eat after taking Obexequil. Long-term use of Obexequil can have side effects including, but not limited to: Nausea, Fatigue, Muscle Cramps, Spontaneous decay of extraneous limbs, Bone Collapse disorder, Migraines and more. If you experience any of these symptoms or any listed onscreen, please seek medical attention immediately.

Obexequil, when you gotta make life fit.”

The commercial faded out, back to some feel-good news fluff. Jack sat on the couch in front of the weathered, old TV, holding a bottle of Obexequil. He stared at the label, his large fingers nearly enveloping the bottle. Turning the TV off, he sat down the bottle and looked at his reflection.

He looked like a ball of bread dough that had been stuffed into overalls and had a blonde mullet slapped on. He was so heavy, he'd long ago obliterated the springs and frame holding the cushions up, sinking far into the couch. His eyes looked beady, nestled into the crack between his cheeks and forehead. They nearly disappeared when he blinked, he thought to himself.

He glanced away, grabbing the arm of the couch and pulling himself up with surprising ease. As he did, beads of yellowish sweat seemed to ooze from his shoulders and neck, staining the denim as they dripped down.

He padded over to the kitchenette and quickly wiped his brow, flinging drops of sweat across the floor. He grimaced and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, popping the tab with his teeth as the squeaky door slammed shut.

His stomach growled, but he couldn't eat, so he downed the beer instead, guzzling it in a matter of moments.

He tossed the can in the trash bin next to the counter, pausing. He could still feel it. Like his stomach was trying to eat itself. He clenched his jaw, his forehead slick, sweat starting to soak through the overalls.

He could smell it, like a grease-fire in a fucking mcdonalds. It clogged his nose and made him want to retch.

Shaking his head, he walked out of the kitchenette and across the room to his dresser. He opened a drawer, revealing fresh, crisp, folded dish towels, some still with the store tags attached. Jack grabbed one out, mopping at his face and neck hard enough to turn the skin red. It never felt like enough. He still felt greasy and wet, like he was covered in a film.

With a huff, he stuffed the greasy rag and several more in one of his pockets. He didn't have time for this. Heading towards the front door, he stopped to slide his feet into a pair of massive, well-worn work boots, the beige leather stained with mud and god-knows-what-else.

It was about time to get to work.

—----------------------------------------------------

Getting out of his apartment had always been an ordeal, but lately it was just getting worse and worse. He didn't trust the aging elevator and the long flights of stairs saw drops and puddles of grease left behind once he finally shuffled his way down.

If he was too quick though, people banged on the walls, complaining about the noise, so he crept down the steps like a stealthy behemoth. At the bottom, he wiped his face again, opening the door and emerging into the bright morning light of the Terra Heights Commons.

Jack lived in Terra Heights, a cheap, rundown group of 3 apartment buildings near the mid-town train station. Everything here was old, dirty or falling apart, but so were the people.

As Jack walked out, crossing through the scrubby grass, he observed the people around him. Kids were playing in the grassy areas. An old woman with skin like a paper bag fed the pigeons. 3 young guys sat on a stoop, playing cards and playing music on a busted old speaker.

All of them had the Gaia Gene, marked in one way or another. One of the kids, too young for meds, had a crest of bony spikes atop his head. The old woman sighed slowly, her breath coming out as a small cloud of greenish gas, causing the pigeons to fly away.

One of the young men stood and walked away from his peers, revealing hooves protruding from the cuff of his jeans.

The world smelled like a billion bodies that didn't know what they wanted to be. Jack just ducked his head and kept walking, avoiding the eyes of everyone around him. He could feel his sweat almost sizzling across his skin, but out here in the sunshine, there wasn't much he could do. He just wanted to be somewhere without a billion eyes to watch him melt in the sun.

He crossed the commons quickly, avoiding the other tenants as best he could. As he stepped out onto the sidewalk, he could see several people waiting at the bus stop, but just grimaced and passed by. Being stuck in a metal tube with other people was the last thing he needed.

Instead, he worked his way through the streets like a paranoid bull in a China shop. Every glance was met with an apologetic hand wave, every “excuse me” said before he ever bumped into the other person.

It was a strained performance. Other people didn't care how close they got, how they looked at each other like sharks. They didn't have to try and plan every movement beforehand. It was enough to drive him insane.

“Mornin’!” Jack looked up, torn from his thoughts. He realised he was standing outside of his job, his feet having carried him there on autopilot. The voice had come from a teen, sitting on the front step of the small bodega.

The boy was wearing a red t-shirt and jean shorts, but his body was malformed beneath it. Instead of hands and feet, the boy's limbs had curled into what were almost paws, the bottoms dark and calloused. His legs and arms now seemed to bend in the wrong direction, leaving him hunched like a dog taking a shit. Likewise, the bottom of his face was slightly elongated into what could almost be a muzzle.

“Hey, Joseph, slow morning?” the dog boy grinned, his teeth long and crooked. Clambering to his feet, Joseph affectionately bumped Jack's leg with his hip.

“Always, big guy. Got a light?” Rolling his eyes, Jack stepped around him as the boy looked up at him hopefully.

“No, Jo. I told you to quit that.” Looking annoyed, Joseph pulled off an impressive approximation of a shrug.

“Ah, what's gonna happen? I grow a tail?” Jack snorted and pushed open the door to the shop, one foot in.

“Hey, if you do, I'll give you a light any time you want.” Walking in, Jack was greeted by rows of shelves covered in goods. Most of it was old, the packaging yellowed, but still good. Jack ducked around the shelves, heading towards the back, but was stopped by another voice.

“Right in time, Holder, good work.” Turning, he saw Sylvia standing at the counter, leaning casually against the till. She was a rail thin woman with auburn hair, smiling at him tiredly.

“Got a truck all ready for ya in the back.” jack paused, confused.

“You don't want me on register?” the older woman looked sheepish, but waved a hand.

“Nah, I know that new medication isn't… like, agreeing with you. You can hang in the back, sort overflow and stuff. Don't worry about it.” Jack stared at her for a moment, processing. Her cheeks flushed as she absentmindedly played with the register, avoiding his eyes.

“No problem, uh, yeah,” He turned and headed toward the back room. “Let me know if you need me.” He could feel his cheeks and ears burning, probably just as red hers. He glanced back as he went through the door, seeing a yellow slip of paper in her hand. A complaint form.

He let the door close behind him as he saw 3 pallets of merchandise sitting neatly in the open doorway, by the ramp. Walking over, he stared at the pallets, face blank.

Inside, he was boiling. It felt like an inferno filling the hungry void in his stomach. He could feel the greasy film across his body, his heart hammering as guilt, embarrassment and shame turned into something that felt hot and foreign.

Always too much.