Tiny slivers of sunlight crept into the room, followed by a quiet chorus of birdsong. Their dulcet melodies were accompanied by the rhythmic staccato of the city's traffic, of people rushing to and from work. The ambient soundscape of the outside world was unfortunately disrupted when a shrill beeping noise filled the room, rousing the lifeless body buried under the sheets. A single, pale hand reached for the phone on the nightstand, and the figure inside groaned when she saw the time. She snoozed her alarm and went back to sleep for another ten minutes.
By the time the alarm sounded again, all traces of sunlight had vanished. The dark of night filled the room, and the faint sound of a ravenous stomach grumbled beneath the covers. With every possible excuse to stay in bed exhausted, Katrina finally admitted it was time to get up.
She threw her sheets aside and slid her feet to the floor, groaning once more as she left her bed. One hand covered her mouth, covering a heavy yawn, while the other gently traced the wall to help guide her through the cramped apartment. The bathroom was the next door over, and she closed her eyes in anticipation of the lights turning on. By the time she’d adjusted to their glare, she’d managed to find the power button for her mirror.
It wasn’t technically a mirror, of course, she only called it that out of convenience.
In actuality, it was a large video screen suspended over her sink. A camera had been embedded in the center, providing real-time footage of whoever happened to be standing in front of it. For the last four years, that camera hadn’t seen a single soul other than Katrina.
She went through her morning routine half-heartedly. She knew that it kept her body healthy, but she struggled to maintain enthusiasm for something she’d been doing since kindergarten. She always had to floss and brush her teeth, regardless of the size of her cuspids. Her hair still needed washing, whether it was heavily curled or straight enough to string a violin bow.
The more things change…
Once she finished washing her face, Katrina clicked the mirror off and watched her reflection vanish. Staring into the black of the screen, she realized the towel rack behind her was empty. Thinking back to last night, she remembered she’d never retrieved her clothes from the building’s laundry room. Sighing in resignation, she dried her face on her sleeve and prepared to head downstairs. Best case scenario, the floor her clothes had ended up on wasn’t too dirty.
After grabbing her laundry basket and her slippers, Katrina left her apartment and headed towards the elevators. She pulled out her phone, hoping she might be able to live vicariously through everyone else online, and lazily scrolled through the socials of her favorite delvers. It often felt like being nocturnal left her playing catch up with the rest of the world. By the time she was awake, all the important things had already happened, and she simply had the privilege of watching the world sleep.
After watching a couple quick videos of people showing off their dungeon outfits, she realized the elevator still hadn’t arrived. When she looked up, she saw bright yellow caution tape blocking off the entrance, and a sign apologizing for the inconvenience.
That’s new. Hopefully they’re up in less than a month this time.
Katrina opened the door to the staircase only a few moments later. Five years ago, the elevators being down would have been enough to ruin her day, but now it was simply a mild inconvenience. The stairs were built with a gap in the middle, spiraling further and further down until they hit the ground floor, and there was more than enough room for a person in that gap. She leaned over the edge, made sure no one else was taking her route, then floated up over the railing.
For all the misfortune her new body had brought her, Flight had been the sole positive. She couldn’t go very fast, it was more like glorified levitation, but there was no denying that complete mastery of the skies was an incredible feeling. She routinely left for work by gliding out her bedroom window, and she was able to completely avoid all the city’s foot traffic. That being said, she would sacrifice flying in a heartbeat were she offered her old body back.
As Katrina floated down the staircase, she lazily scrolled through her news feed, but nothing she saw interested her. She had been hoping there might be updates about the supply shortage, or at least new discoveries from the dungeon, but every site was instead focused on the upcoming anniversary of the Change.
Landing on the ground floor, she pocketed her phone and continued her journey. She had no interest in reading about that terrible day, so she instead focused on the laundry room. Sure enough, she found her clothes in a pile on the floor, but whoever had moved them had at least kept the pile contained. It all seemed clean enough, so she threw everything in her basket and began the return trip home. Her stomach had started grumbling again, and the last thing she needed today was to be trapped in a small room with her neighbors.
Katrina flew back to her apartment as quickly as she could, regretting that she’d let herself get sidetracked by the laundry. She kept a routine for a reason, and now was not the time to get complacent about meal times. Her hunger gnawed at her, threatening to take over if she ignored it for too long. She grabbed the handle of her fridge, looked inside, and her eyes went wide in realization.
It was completely empty.
How did I forget about grocery day? Ugh, c’mon Katrina, it’s the same day every week!
She was now wide awake, mild panic keeping her thoughts sharp.
Alright, I have to get to the clinic as fast as possible. Shoes, keys, phone, donor card, cooler… Everything's good to go. I can be there in less than ten minutes, that’s not bad, right?
As she flew out her bedroom window, locking it behind her, she made a beeline for the local clinic. Thankfully, her neighborhood was far enough away from downtown that there were no flight restrictions, so it was easy to keep her travel time short. Even though it was late, and the crowds were relatively thin, she was still glad she had a way to avoid them.
Less contact meant lower chances of an incident.
After only a few minutes of flying, the clinic finally came into view. Years ago, it had originally been a walk-in clinic for mundane injuries, but recently it had been converted to specifically cater to Races. With roughly a third of the planet no longer being human, many people struggled to keep up with the needs of their new bodies, and the ordinary walk-in clinics of the past had needed to adapt.
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Staff clinicians were constantly receiving training on the myriad Races that now existed, as well as their unique needs. Most demons, for example, had an extra status bar that required them to feed on the various sins of those around them. After the change, many of these demons struggled to manage their Hunger safely, and these clinics began offering counseling to help them tame their desires. They also had an expanded array of equipment to administer medical treatment when required; some races had skin that resisted standard needles, and many were too large to fit in existing hospital rooms.
When Katrina landed, she saw there wasn’t a line and sighed in relief. She walked up to the service window, which was covered by magically reinforced glass, and rang the service bell. After a minute of waiting, a familiar face finally approached the window. A human man in his late twenties appeared, his wrinkled blue scrubs indicating he was near the end of his shift. He had short blonde hair, a soft face with grayish-blue eyes, as well as a collection of stubble that he was constantly fighting back.
“Dennis! You’re a sight for sore eyes, how was the rush today?” Katrina asked. She did her best to remain cordial, she wanted to stay on the best terms possible with the people keeping her alive.
“Today wasn’t too bad, though we had a small incident with a fire elemental. Apparently the blankets we bought weren’t properly fireproofed, so I’ve been filing a complaint against the supplier.” He paused, rubbing his eyes before continuing. “Grocery day already?”
“You know it. I’m fresh out, and my stomach is killing me,” she said, sliding her donor card under the glass.
“Look, Katrina, about that…” Dennis leaned against the counter, his face ready to deliver bad news. His fingers lingered on the card before he pushed it back to her.
Katrina gripped the straps of her cooler tight, doing her best to stay calm. “Don’t say that Dennis, it’s not funny.”
“This blood shortage is hitting everyone, there’s nothing I can do about it. We’ve filled out every form in existence, I’ve even mentioned that I have Vampires in the area, but this week there simply wasn’t a shipment. You’ll have to go downtown.”
“Please, there’s got to be something here. Beastkin? Minotaur? Heck, I’ll even take Goblin blood, just… something. Anything.” Her breathing quickened, panic setting in before she whispered, “I can’t go downtown. I’d have to take the train.”
Dennis leaned closer to the glass, stealing a look around the lobby before speaking. “I… might have something, gimme a sec.” He left the window, and after a few minutes, returned with a small hazmat bag. “We had an incident earlier today. Someone got attacked, and this was one of the towels we used to clean up. I know it’s not edible, but maybe it will make the train ride easier.”
He slipped the bag under the window, and Katrina snatched it up eagerly before hiding it in her sweater. “I… thanks Dennis.”
“Just make sure no one sees the bag, alright? If the wrong people start asking questions, the clinic could get closed down.” He flashed a sympathetic smile, then continued talking. “I wish there was more I could do, honestly, but that’s all I’ve got.”
As Dennis leaned back, Katrina found her eyes wandering to his neck, but she quickly tore them away. “Guess I’ll see you next week. Stay out of trouble until then.”
“Same to you, Kat. Best of luck.”
Kat. She never knew how to feel about that nickname. In all honesty, she really liked it, but she hated what it represented. It meant people liked her, wanted to get close to her. Dennis had asked her out once, ages ago, and while the attraction was mutual, she hadn’t given it a second thought. The last thing she needed was another incident, and Dennis was too kind for his own good. If they started dating, it would only be a matter of time before he offered himself up to her hunger, and she couldn't do that to him.
Leaving the clinic, Katrina steeled her nerves and headed for the local train station. She wanted to love the trains, she really did. Chicago had revamped them to be as Race friendly as possible, and that was only one of the many policy changes that had been implemented after the Change. Katrina was intimately familiar with these laws; the donor card in her pocket had come from one such policy. It marked her as a Race that needed to consume blood to survive, and using it at designated clinics allowed her access to ethically sourced blood, normally a week’s worth at a time.
Of course, the shortage wasn’t helping. The current policy was to heavily ration out the existing supply, and while this was helping on a macro scale, it meant Katrina was constantly hungry. At times it was easier to manage, and she tried to alter her schedule to avoid crowds, but it was at its worst when she was in close proximity with other people.
For example, riding a crowded train into the heart of downtown Chicago.
The doors opened in front of her, and Katrina found herself jostled around as the crowds behind her pushed into the train car. She could hear the heartbeats of every person around her, smell the blood running through their veins. Some of the more aggressive passengers cast judgmental glares in her direction as she failed to move with the crowd, and without fail they all recoiled in fear when they saw what she was.
There was no hiding her Race. She had vibrant, crimson eyes that glowed bright when she was hungry, and she was absolutely ravenous. She did her best to breathe through her mouth, to minimize the smell, and this meant her fangs were on full display; two supernaturally powerful canines, eager to rip into the throats of every person on the train with her.
The doors closed, locking Katrina inside, and within seconds they were leaving the station. Her hands gripped the straps of her cooler, nervously wringing it as she stared at the floor. She swore the heartbeats around her were getting louder, their rhythms joining together to form a discordant symphony of forbidden desire. Just as the sound threatened to overwhelm her, she remembered the bag Dennis had given her earlier, and she eagerly opened it up.
Her fingers clenched the towel tight, pulling it to her nose in the hope she could distract her senses. The blood had mostly dried, though being sealed in a hazmat bag seemed to have slowed the process somewhat. Thankfully, the smell hadn’t vanished, and its delectable aroma filled her world as she breathed in deep. Her eyes closed, and she did everything she could to lose herself in the scent. Her body stopped shaking, at least a little bit, and it was slightly easier to forget about the many passengers that surrounded her.
Time continued passing, the train occasionally stopping to let passengers on or off. The first time she’d ridden this line, she had hoped the night hours would keep it somewhat empty, but those hopes were quickly dashed when she realized it was the best route for delvers to get to the dungeon. With each stop, the crowd slowly acquired more people ready for combat, occasionally carrying weapons, though Katrina paid them no mind despite her curiosity.
After an eternity of waiting, of somehow managing to keep herself in line, Katrina made it to her stop. She did her best to calmly walk off the train, avoiding people when possible, though it was difficult. The hospital was a newer structure, and had been built fairly close to the Dungeon, so every delver on the train was leaving with her.
Some of the delvers, upon leaving the train car, jumped into the air and began flying to their destination. Katrina watched them leave, desperately wishing she could do the same, but downtown Chicago had strict regulations about which Racial and Class abilities could be used. While there were sometimes exceptions, generally only authorized emergency personnel and certified delvers were allowed to fly. The hope was that responding to crises would be easier if those qualified to help could avoid the crowds.
Katrina, despite her initial wishes years ago, was not a delver. She lowered her head and focused on making it to the hospital, clutching her cooler tight. Thankfully, the crowds dispersed somewhat as she neared her destination, and before she knew it, she was walking into the hospital.