Utopias didn’t exist; the hospital didn’t break any new ground in that respect.

 

“Hell,” Sinjin muttered behind his mask.

 

He’d usually preface it with ‘holy’, but Cosima knew the passage they tread was far from blessed.

 

Patients littered the waiting room, each hymning despair to the most high staff from different hymn sheets. Some possessed sacrilegious bodies, bloated and smote with discolored infirmity, near soulless against ragged chairs and walls. Some hacked deathly odors through the acrid air, apostasy consuming the fallen as the rare few nearby cared enough to pat their burning backs and revive their will to live. Some prayed to SDD officers supervising the lobby, their desperate cravings for attention fought off by nervous preaching from the sweaty authority. Some kneed the cracking floors. Some shouted. Some cried.

 

But—sum and substance—all suffered. 

 

Cosima suffered the consequences of looking. The peeved looks of the sick denied urgent care that met her gaze, deformed babies consoled by mothers feigning soundness, walking corpses—all of it forced her sight away. It was like staring into a mirror with no blockade, the horrid reflection ever so close and tangible.

 

It made her absent eyes bleed. 

 

“Please stay close,” the SDD officer said over the noise to the small mobile group he led towards the hospital exit. Cosima didn’t need him to shout that again as she swiftly pressed into Sinjin, who was helping her walk as usual. His body was reasonably stiff, and she could tell it wasn’t solely because of his pain from the previous day. His face was grave and rock-solid, wearing an unreadable gaze that had long turned away from the rock-bottom sight of healthiness.

 

She followed suit and tried to look forward as well. Blissful ignorance was her only choice—she couldn’t let the reflections reach her or have her mind. She kept awkwardly shuffling with the small protected group; the doctors urgently gave them the time of day. She knew some people sitting there needed more help than her, but as she disappeared behind a corner, she only noticed how dark it was in the waiting room. No daylight spilt into the room; a window of opportunity didn’t exist in that area.

 

She hoped she could find her window, too. Or else she’d be stuck in the dark like them.

 

“You ok?” Sinjin asked her, projecting his voice louder to overcome the immense hospital chatter and the calls from the PA system. He leaned closer to her as they walked. “Is your mask on correctly?”

 

“Of course.” She checked the mask’s security with one hand. 

 

“Right. Feels like they don’t work.”

 

“Eh, I’m fine somehow.”

 

“Ah…”

 

They discussed a lot in the morning, from where to go concerning fixing her body to trying to wrap their heads around other prominent issues like finances. These were clearly two conversational extremes; they each dominated their respective conversations. So now they had to conserve their breath to get through the hospital smog. 

 

But, despite how reclusive she had become, she wanted to talk more. She needed a distraction from the coughing, howling, and wailing from beyond the walls. The chattering of people behind them annoyed her. The chattering of people ahead of them annoyed her. She couldn’t decipher their words, but she tried to close the already close distance between herself and Sinjin, fastening her hood further over her head as she did so. She briefly felt her lover’s eyes fall on her—her key to escaping the noise.

 

“Are you ok?”

 

“Eh?” Sinjin leaned down to her level. “What—”

 

“Are you ok?”

 

“Am I…” He paused, noticing how close they were to the exit to the crowded hospital. They swerved around flushed doctors and nurses. He puffed. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m good. Thank you, dear.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

The guard leading them took hold of the doors to the safer, outside world.

 

“I need fresh air.”

 

His bloodshot eyes always spoke to her; more redness filled the white spaces behind the provided hospital goggles. It was always as if something were building up behind his stony stare—a growing tension in need of relief. She wondered if it was all because of her for an eternal minute. Was she taking his breath away? Was she queasy or easy on his eyes? Was she a rotten apple in his eyes? 

 

Or was she just looking at it from a worm’s eye view? It wasn’t long ago when her dark room kept her cooped up and bottled up in a small world. For the first time in forever, she stood beyond those confines longer than she expected, soon to be refreshed by the afternoon’s light from the opening doors. 

 

She hated the aurora, however; she shuddered when glimmers of purple shrouded the sun. There were no curtains to hide its presence or obscure the memory. But, like how it scarred her years prior, she needed to embrace the lights, no matter how much she was used to breathing in her own poisonous air in a tight bubble. 

 

She needed to stop breathing dark clouds out onto a limited horizon; the horizons had to expand. Whether she still had the physical strength to aim for the sky or not was the question.

 

But she’d try by following an example.

 

“Me too,” she finally replied to Sinjin as they shuffled towards the outside world with the small group, inching further away from the hell and its horrors. “Me too.”

 

They walked into the light.

 

***

Lights flashed.

 

“Effin’ hell,” Gideon muttered openly as the cameras and police cars flashed around the bloody scene.

 

The captain’s look remained rigid; most of the picture painted wasn’t new. In front of him were patches of red soaking the concrete, fresh out of the bodies of lacerated officers. The tattered fabric of uniforms and shoes was enough for him to come to that conclusion. 

 

Right. So, even with the cure, that monster still regurgitates the inorganic matter from ensnaring humans. Glad that part is still consistent. 

 

But something wasn’t consistent: the charred stench of smoldered bodies draped over the crime scene. The dismembered arm was eye candy for not only the cameras but his eyes as well. It was blackened, a crisp crumb from the feast of a manic mongrel. But, as Gideon expected, it simply turned out to be a feast for the eyes—a leftover fragment that explained to him what the culprit was like. 

 

He clutched his empty sleeve, gritting his teeth at the sight. But the image in his mind was sightly, so he loosened himself.

 

He’s still a disorganized criminal. He added something new to his arsenal.

 

He bit back his bile, confronting a damp SDD officer nearby.

 

“You said it was an explosion, officer?” Gideon asked the man, loud and clear over the surrounding scramble for evidence. The officer huffed and gulped, sweat dribbling over his lips as he attempted to muster an answer. The captain lifted his singular arm, flipping a finger up in the face of the officer. “Calm now. You’re fine. You’re safe.”

 

The officer nodded hurriedly, wiping sweat on his torn trousers as he sputtered to the captain. He stammered, “Y—Yes. He’s… He has never done… done that this past week!”

 

“More explosions? Shi—We just arrested another guy who used explosions on a freeway today.” Hilario joined in, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “The monster didn’t use that before, so they most likely assimilated a human or animal that has such an ability because it’s obviously pretty damn effective to not have been used earlier—”

 

“From what people told me during the Tawny incident, they heard thunder. So, that time was lightning for sure. Sympathetic lightning since it seemed so loosely coordinated”—he took a breath before continuing—”and went a long distance. What we’re dealing with now just looks like an explosion caused by a flame ability. Unless it’s heat lightning, but we heard a sound for sure. So there is a difference—”

 

“He also looked more crocodile-like this time.” Another frightened officer joined. “H-He sped past our car on all fours… I think—it was fast, ok!”

 

“Did any of you manage to land a hit on—no, sorry, stupid question.” Gideon retracted his question, assessing the situation in his head.

 

We know he’s speedy. And he’s more crocodile-like?

 

“By more crocodile-like, do you mean he had a crocodile maw or something?”

 

“Y-Yes, it wasn’t just a tail this time—”

 

“By chance, did you see any other animal attributes?” Gideon received headshakes from the questioned officers. “I’d imagine he got his hands on a stray dog with that ability. There are loads of them in this district. Worst case, he got his hands on a human with the ability. I mean, how else did the crocodile attributes come about? You can only find those in the South.”

 

He stressed another raised finger with a small “Wait”, shutting down what the other officers planned to add. When he was in full flow, he knew he couldn’t stop. Especially when he could still hear the officers sniffling and trying to regain their composure, he knew it would be best for them to breathe and let him do the talking. 

 

“So, as the science team predicted, the cure allows one to do more freeform shapeshifting. Cureless people like us with animal DNA feel pain when trying to unlock even a singular part of an animal.” Gideon fiddled with his rat snout. “The cure could also remove abnormalities and turn someone back to their original form through some weird magic stuff. Or they could add a bunch of traits all at once.”

 

“Yeah… We know. What’s the point?” Hilario asked, poking at the burnt rubble with his abnormal nails.

 

“Well… It just reminds me of, like, a philosopher’s stone…”

 

Silence carried over. The confused stares from his allies unfazed him.

 

“Isn’t that… Isn’t that a Harry Potter book? What does that have to—”

 

“Well, yes, but not what I’m going for. It’s the alchemical concept. I’ve had this thought for a while, especially since I read a lot when I was younger.” Gideon clicked his tongue at the brows still raised. “Look, it’s appropriate here because, although it’s pseudoscience, the cure reminds me of that. It’s an elixir of some sort or something that can push boundaries, and that’s what we’re naturally scared of. It’s something we don’t understand fully.”

 

We’re also like chimera, now that I think about it.

 

He raised a finger as if someone would interrupt him; he was in full throttle now.

 

“But this does not change the fact that we live in the real world, where a single gunshot would completely incapacitate and kill a crocodile. It’s also where a large group can easily jump and overwhelm an opponent, regardless of their strength. If we have the prep time, of course.” Gideon tapped the side of his forehead. He projected his voice louder. “There is about a… hmm, 90-99% chance this monster is homeless. He also appears to be an adult, from what we can see. So, we can strongly assume that we are dealing with someone probably with a… cognitive impairment?”

 

He had gathered a small audience of the officers, in which most looked at each other with uncertainty, murmured comforting words to one another, or gave shaky nods. It reminded him once more of the messy formation of the SDD, which he criticized constantly and internally.

 

“Or substance abuse. A lot of druggies in SR,” Gideon said. “Anyways, the fact is that he is of low education and intelligence, as we can see from the type of criminal he is. We’re confidently smarter. We shouldn’t—what’s the word—overhype him, especially since he probably doesn’t even know much about his own body with little to no access to the news or Internet.”

 

The half-life of knowledge is unstable nowadays. He’s unable to catch up to the speed at which new knowledge trumps old knowledge. So he’s far outclassed.

 

“So what do we do?” an officer asked in desperation.

 

“We start being realistic and overpower him. And it’s simple: corner, jump, and capture.” Gideon turned to Hilario. “Me and Gallardo have the repelling abilities to push the monster into a corner. A strong weight will crush anyone, even a speedy crocodile.”

 

Hilario tilted his head, retracting his nails and scratching his dreads. He said, “I can… try, yeah. But I feel like we shouldn’t stall too much—”

 

“Right, staying still in this big group would leave us exposed to an easy ambush,” Gideon said, taking in the crime scene again. “If he does have these explosions, we sure haven’t heard one in a while. He’s probably back into hiding or waiting in the dark to strike at us.”

 

As he expected, the group burst into anxiety, heads rolling in search of the impending death that could befall them. Even Gideon felt his heart pound against his chest, in sync with the squad around him. He completely understood the agitation, so he let them have their fear experience and took the time to catch his breath from his long-winded talking.

 

I’m terrified, too. But we’re only human. That monster is also human, too. Chimera or not, he’s not some new being or species. They need to start understanding that. 

 

“I assume he was pushed back into SR, right?” Gideon exclaimed, attempting to reconcile the fear. He gained some approval and spared no time moving on to his next question. He hurried his words. “Fire, lightning, light, magnetism—which abilities did the ensnared allies have?”

 

“Light!”

 

“Light, I think—”

 

“L-Light!”

 

Light. Noted.

 

“Right. The monster will probably use it to its advantage in our next encounter.” The captain clapped, forgetting about his predicament again, before puffing out an exhausted breath. They weren’t at the end of their rope just yet. “Right. Let’s get back to work over here with documenting this scene. Then, we can try and locate the thing. The plan is simple. Not 100% guarantee, obviously, but we’ll be close. Let’s do this, chop chop!”

 

“Yes, sir!” Everyone returned to their jobs with hesitancy. Whether their minds were back in the ones of police and not those of passive civilians was the question. 

 

Good. They are afraid. 

 

He looked up, glancing at the rooftops of the ashy buildings hanging over them all. He stopped at the aurora in the night sky and didn’t try to look beyond them. He would never attempt optimism with the officers around him; there were limits to how far one could go with something like believing. When he saw a feasible chance without unrealism, he’d assure them they’d all strike at it while the iron was hot.

 

“It’s hot as hell.” Gideon dove out of his thoughts, his gaze falling on Hilario, who stood next to him, patting his wet shirt out. “You seem calm.”

 

“Eh. That’s untrue, Scissorhands.”

 

Silence.

 

“Scissor… Scissorhands?” Hilario gave a short, confused chuckle. 

 

“Yep.”

 

“What’s up with you making these pop culture references?”

 

“Morale boost,” Gideon said through a huff, stretching. “People did just die, but when on the job, you should always try to be in, y’know, good spirits… and have some caution too, of course—”

 

“Ok? Sure…”

 

Silence. Sweat gathered on Gideon’s forehead.

 

“So, the plan?”

 

Gideon stared into space, rubbing his brows. Then, he repelled the stagnancy.

 

“We’ll give the monster a gravity check, obviously.”

 

The cameras flashed the crime scene for the last time.

 

The lights flickered.

 

***

The lights died down as the couple arrived outside the building.

 

They were finally out.

 

Sinjin dumped his goggles in the plastic bin near the hospital entrance, with the guard at the side thanking every one of them for their cooperation. Then, all the strangers went their separate ways in the packed parking lot, filled to the brim with soon-to-be patients scrambling out of vehicles and awaiting their rite of passage into the sacred building. It wasn’t any better on the outside. But they were out, and she could finally see Sinjin breathe as he disposed of his mask.

 

“That was definitely an experience,” Sinjin muttered, blinking at the cosmic daylight. 

 

Cosima ensured her hood covered most of her face as many strangers came into her view. She bunched closer to Sinjin, who was still helping her walk anyway. She said, “Yeah… Hope it never happens again.”

 

“Yep. Yep…” He looked to the side absentmindedly. “Now…”

 

A nearby car’s horn blew. Sinjin’s calm demeanor dropped with a single blow.

 

“Oi!” A familiar voice called out. They pinpointed the source: a burly arm waving from the right-hand window of a khaki Land Rover Defender. The car beeped again, drawing some sickly eyes. 

 

Sinjin clicked his tongue.

 

“We can see you—Jesus.” He mumbled incoherent nothings and reluctantly led them towards the car.

 

“Come on, dear. It’s a free ride, plus I have to—”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Sorry.”

 

Can’t say I didn’t expect him to be disappointed. He was hesitant this morning.

 

Unlike Sinjin, she knew she had to suspend her disappointment; she needed guidance.

 

So, without any more delays, she had to confront Theta.