“It’s not very far.” Tanairy hurried out of the car, purse and courtesy in tow, waving her fellow passengers off. She played with the car door, speaking with urgency. “I like jogging back home anyway.” The door shut.

 

“Wait—consider the things I’ve told you today, Ryd!” Theta’s voice halted her. She had already gone a good way down the neighborhood’s pavement in only a few seconds. The man poked his head out of the front window. “It’ll be fun! Stimulating even!”

 

The day’s events flashed in her head in a heartbeat. She finished her considerations hours ago. 

 

But she wouldn’t give a direct answer; the earbuds were already in, and her Spotify playlist sat in the palm of her tight hand. 

 

All she did was hand the driver a subtle nod as she jogged on the spot, kicking her mind, body, and soul into full throttle with quad stretches. 

 

Then she took off, galloping past passersby passing through their own lives.

 

A thought kindly intruded her headspace, passing through the cracks of her mind, even when calming music massaged her brain. It even allowed itself to pass through her lips in a breathless whisper.

 

“Did I smile?”

 

Just like how she’d pull a muscle in her legs every time she sprinted, she always remembered to pull others’ legs, too. So at least they’d know she meant no harm. But she forgot this time, at least that’s what she thought. She hoped she did. 

 

Did I come off rude?

 

She hoped she didn’t. That wouldn’t be good. She wouldn’t want that.

 

Did I seem scared?

 

No. She hoped she didn’t. 

 

Did I seem suspicious?

 

No. Not at all. She hoped she didn’t.

 

Did I leave too quickly?

 

No. There was nothing like that. She had a place to be. 

 

So she’d be there. No hesitation. No reversal. No roadblocks. 

 

“Crap!” she swore in Swedish, passing past a civilian she almost bumped into. “Sorry!”

 

She’d keep running.

 

“She’s always so weird. But quick,” Theta documented aloud, running through his phone. He rolled up the windows as the blonde disappeared. “I’ll have you know that her reflexes impress me, and she wields the bulb salamander inside her really well. I checked with her both yesterday and today—it’s sick!”

 

He perked up like a fawn, fawning over unspoken words he had at the ready.

 

“Ooo! If you guys don’t know what I was talking about with the Blue Eyes White Dragon—oh, that’s a good nickname for her, by the way.” He turned to the two passengers’ confused faces. “Anywho, uh, what I'm saying is that I and others on the group chat tend to do these, like, excursions around the country to learn stuff about the radiation… or just to chill. As you know, I am very passionate about the world around us, and I love traveling with the fam that I’ve built up for years. You guys can be part of it, hopefully.”

 

Sinjin didn’t want to be a part of it; his neutral face spoke to her. She knew he had better places to be and plans for the upcoming days to write out and review. But if whatever Theta said was true, he’d lead her to better places and give her the opportunity she desperately needed. The connections and opportunities were there, all for her rightful taking. 

 

Sinjin’s frown deepened. He leashed his disdain and said, “Hope getting to the apartment isn’t much trouble.”

 

“Crap—my bad!” The car jolted back to life. “So, how about it? Especially you, Cos.”

 

“Huh?” 

 

They were in motion.

 

“I’ll be direct: you want to change your situation.” His words put the two passengers in shock. “I don’t need to explain to you what your situation is. You know very well the severity of your body, and that’s definitely why you came to me.”

 

The car sped up on a near-empty road.

 

“I can easily get you up to speed with the world. I’m good at what I do and know more than most, so I can fill up any voids in your knowledge. Same goes for you, Mistah Sin. I am always here to help.”

 

Sinjin couldn’t help but fall back into his void, grunting and staring out the window at the blurry scenery.

 

But the lines between possibility and impossibility blurred. It could just be Cosima’s escape from hell if she made this one connection—along with multiple others branching from this—work. She jailed herself in a dark room for as long as she could imagine. Aside from Sinjin and a family abroad, little to no one barely outstretched a helping hand to her. But now, a hand connected to a potential solution waved its fat palm in front of her. 

 

For five years, it’s probably the first time she’s dealt a good hand. Then, she’d hope for more and more to stretch out to her if this one didn’t work out.

 

It would feel familiar.

 

“So, how about it?”

 

It would feel recognizable.

 

“Do you want to…”

 

It would feel like she was a model again.

 

“...be revived?”

 

***

Revival was possible—to some extent.

 

This shi’ hurts! So that’s how it feels to perform cautery!

 

Tawny clasped a lighter in her shaking hand. The lighter could sear a wound close, like she had done with the gash on one of her resting tails. However, it left a scar all the time. She couldn’t restore the appendage’s skin to its original condition, and the procedure hurt like all hell. But it sealed the wound and stopped the bleeding chaos; she puffed in relief at the procedure’s completion.

 

But completion would mean that a full circle was possible. It would mean that a reversal was possible.

 

Puffing one of her pocketed cigarettes was a possibility. Her fingers graced the ashy case stuffed loosely in her pocket. It’d numb the pain and return her to the neutrality she wore before the cautery. 

 

However, she wasn’t an idiot. It’d damage her lungs and curse her with incurable cancer. The more she smoked, the more her life would keep breaking down around her and lose its order.

 

Damn it.

 

She damned her temptations and tended to the seared tail. She brushed it with her cracked nails as if she were caressing a newborn’s cheek.

 

“This is your tail, Parsley,” she whispered, grimacing at the scar left by her work. The image of the tabby came into her head without difficulty. “Sorry, hun. I did the best I could to seal it off. I’ll be less careless.”

 

How could she? She threw caution to the wind when she began riding the protesting wave. She was too far into the deep, and in motherly fashion, she had to lie to the child.

 

“Right, let’s”—she hissed under her breath—”get this done.”

 

She took out her Samsung Galaxy S22, brushing her thumb over the cracks. Grunting, she unlocked her phone through face recognition and scrolled into WhatsApp. She entered a private chat with a user named “Hinto”, holding onto the microphone icon in the chat box. It began tracking sounds around her.

 

“Yo, Hinto, are you close?” She scoffed at the red battery signal at the corner of her screen. “I just closed up my wounds, but I still need the basic first aid and all that. The bleeding wasn’t too bad—by the way, I hope you have a charger with you.”

 

She fiddled with her bushy moustache-whiskers. 

 

“Anyways, I assume you saw the—wait.”

 

A plane soared above her. Its distorted rumbling sounded louder and clearer than one would feel if grounded. But she was closer to the sky, making its interruption more of a nuisance. The sounds pierced each of her ears, bashing against her brain and pumping chaotic vibrations through her body. Her teeth snapped and snarled, and her hair stood upright. She shivered at what felt like endless pain.

 

The aurora-filled sky was endless—a limitless veil of disorder with nothing to hide. There were costs to being so close to the lights. Not only did the plane’s noises mesh horribly with the aurora’s crackling, but she was simply closer to the very thing that worsened her life.

 

But then the plane got further—the chaos didn’t subside. The sound left, but the aurora stayed. It always would. Something as unhinged as the phenomenon couldn’t be caged. It wasn’t a pet.

 

“Anyways, where was I?” She recomposed herself, substituting standing for her preferred sitting. “Oh yeah—the news. That guy who ambushed me got captured. Apparently, he caused a death. An absolute clown that I incapacitated. And even with that, the cops still want to capture me.”

 

She clicked her tongue and continued, “They should just add me to the squad as they can’t even do their job right—”

 

‘Exactly what kind of god are you trying to play here?’

 

As much as the plane was grating, this persistent question invaded her head ever since its inception from a pretentious captain’s mouth. They had frequent interventions, but that line broke her train of thought.

 

She stopped fiddling with her hair and remembered how much she played first fiddle in her job. She conducted a movement, a direct current without a knack for going backwards. Even with her newfound distaste for electricity, the charge against all her opponents could never stop.

 

They’re toying with me. Especially that childish captain—

 

“—he just wants a reaction out of me,” she vocalized, punching at beads of sweat on her forehead. “I forgot to tell you—don’t know if you saw it—but I had one idiot try to talk me down on the day—you could practically see him getting comfortable as the crowd cheered him on—”

 

She slammed her hand on the floor repeatedly.

 

“I keep telling you—and I ain’t no ‘effin psychologist. Some people oppose for no damn reason. They just want to fuel their egos and ignore the message.” She scowled at her aching back—an injury from yet another repellent from society. However, it was just a scratch. “They clap at me for not using deadly assault and battery, so don’t we deserve to speak our minds?”

 

She paused to let the flush on her face seethe; she wouldn’t let idiocy anger her and get into her head. Reactions were a part of life—this wasn’t rocket science to her. They are the basis of creation.

 

“As long as most of the public and authorities keep opposing what’s right, they’ll create more hate for what we do.” Tawny waved her hand to the air. “Rubbish—but if we gain more publicity and keep speaking more facts, we can create an opposite reaction and hopefully have more people side with—”

 

‘Exactly what kind of god are you trying to play here?’

 

“But unfortunately, it’s always those corrupt people in higher statuses calling the shots,” she complained, scrubbing at the sweat again. “Rubbish. Just rubbish.”

 

Sweat collected at the brink of her eyes; she swiped at them furiously. She looked to the close sky, pinpointing the more bluish and purplish light trails.

 

“I think the solar winds just increased up here—sorry.” She gulped. “Hydrogen, helium, nitrogen ions… I think the more planes that fly, the more nitrogen enters the atmosphere. I assume… the oxides just get broken down by all the heat captured in the aurora.”

 

Her palm flew to her head. “It’s too much—come quick, please. Moving hiding spots in this city is difficult.”

 

She released the microphone button, her voice note buffering, before sending it to Hinto. She hunched into herself, blowing out a frustrated breath. Her thumb hovered over the play button, but a familiar voice played instead—one that didn’t need a button to press.

 

‘Exactly what kind of god are you trying to play here?’

 

She eyed her slow, depleting battery.

 

Why am I letting someone like this get to me? I’m my own person now.

 

She moved to the microphone button. 

 

Unbeknownst to her opposition, she had a voice. She would lend it out sparingly when push came to shove, but getting herself involved in people’s nonsense was something she trained herself to do. She had too much field experience for her own good, and excess was poison. But with so much poison coursing through her entire being, she became resistant. 

 

And that’s why she kept trying. But she’d try harder this time. Potentially the hardest she would ever try.

 

She held the microphone icon again.

 

“The SDD captain said I was playing god. It’s annoying as hell—hell, I’m not even religious—but if doing what I’m doing is being godly, then…” She shrugged. 

 

A gust of solar wind flicked past her, blowing away all her care and caution.

 

“If I really want to drive my point home, I may just try hopping into the Skid Row thing.” She used her collar to wipe away sweat. “It would boost my publicity, meaning I’d reach more people. It’d also be prime time to expose the SDD. A criminal like the Berserker would be executed for sure… but we all know that’s not the case nowadays.”

 

She stood up—albeit shakily—taking in the lowly view of the streets from a rooftop. 

 

“Also, please don’t tell me it’s dangerous. I’m not smooth-brained. This is a ‘high risk, high reward’ opportunity to put my biggest enemies to shame.” Her tails sparked to life. “They are forcing people to accept their corrupt standards. They don’t realize the consequences of their actions.”

 

She lowered her voice to a grumble.

 

“I swear, they’re like children.”

 

Her sweaty face wrinkled more.

 

“I hate children.”

 

***

“Come on, Rory. Why are the lights still running?” 

 

The child in question twiddled his thumbs, searching for a distraction from the towering woman in front of him on the wooden floor. The woman flicked off the light switch, causing the boy to flinch.

 

“I… uh, forgot to—”

 

“With my already high electricity bill?”

 

They paused. The rapid creaking of floorboards resonated throughout the house, with the pitter-patter of many small feet getting closer. 

 

“So?” The woman pressed on, her long arms folded as she leaned against the vibrating wall. She sensed the usual earthquake nearing her. “What do you say?”

 

The kid groaned, rubbing his pimple-ridden face. “Sorr—”

 

“Don’t touch your face—”

 

“I know—sorry—I’ll just not use the lights at night. Can’t that… like, um, make up for the light… I used… now?”

 

The woman blinked, scratching her blonde locks. Her face scrunched as she eyed the empty doorway of the room into the corridor. Then, everything about her loosened up, and she sputtered a laugh through her toothy smile. 

 

“What?” The kid furrowed his brows. “It’s not stupid!”

 

“I’m just surprised a twelve-year-old could think of something so reasonable—”

 

“Shut up already—”

 

“Don’t be such a grouch.” The woman crouched and pulled at his cheek with soft fingers, her face brightening at the child’s attempt at escape. “It’s a compliment, dood—”

 

“My face—”

 

“Woah!” She retracted her hand, the boy scowling at her. “Sorry—”

 

“You’re always clumsy—idiot—”

 

“That’s not nice—”

 

“Oh, really now?”

 

“Kids! What is it now?”

 

A few seconds passed as three children of differing ages slid at the doorway, slipping on their socks and bumping against each other.

 

“Reina lost the remote under the couch—”

 

“She threw—”

 

“It wasn’t me, guys—”

 

“It was—”

“It was you—”

“Nuh-uh—”

 

“Yes—”

 

“Use your jellyfish eyes to find it!”

 

“The couch, right?” The woman silenced the argument. “Right, I’ll get it. Then, I’ll get started on dinner—how did it get under there anyway?”

 

“Reina—”

 

“I didn’t—”

 

“She—”

“Oi, one at a time.” The woman tirelessly watched the group scuttle down the hallway as she approached the doorway. She stretched her arms out, yawning in the process. “Problem after problem after problem…” 

 

“Hmm…” Rory hummed, sagging at the words. But then, when she turned to him, he straightened not out of guilt but from surprise at the grin still plastered on her face, complimenting her azure eyes. 

 

“Come on, Rory.” The woman stretched her hand out to him without his necessity for such a thing. “Let’s go downstairs, my dear.”

 

Even when he could walk, why would he deny love that stood within arm’s reach? It wasn’t very far. What felt like home to him now was a few steps away. No one would ever turn down home—it’s where his heart lay.

 

So he took the hand, the familiar comfort etched into his brain from the first time he took the opportunity.

 

The lights were off, but a light still cast on him from above. 

 

It was as if he had been revived for the millionth time.