People were as dumb as bricks; Tawny wasn’t a stranger to that thought.

Even after being belittled by the same people’s perceptions and their current acts of physical violence, she knew she would always stick to her guns.

She knew her guns were right. The ones who’d shoot their mouths off without care or precision couldn’t come to terms with their stupidity and the truth. So even when the lump of skin on her face attempted to suffocate her, she didn’t want to be silenced.

So she’d speak.

Esnaring a healthy person is a rookie’s mistake!

With a surge of ease, she peeled her head out of the skin, every single sound—screaming, running, roars of engines—overflowing into her peaked hearing as she freed herself from the fleshy grip. Gasping for air, she scrambled backwards, watching the skin retract back to its source with widened eyes. The near-inconspicuous cat eye on her cheek shot open in response.

“Weaken someone before trying to absorb them!” Tawny yelled to her assailant with her full Texan accent, trying to dominate the discord that ran its course on the motorway. She disliked engaging in others’ ignorance; she believed people had to piece the puzzle themselves sometimes. However, when she could, she had to take the reins of the conversation and go on the offensive rather than the favorable defensive. Dominating the chaos is the primary tactic for winning a protest and, by extension, a fight for her life. “Leave! Hurry!”

Her companions ditched their signs and scuttled through the traffic the instant the order chilled their spines more than they already had. As they fled, they still attempted to reach her with their yelps, but Tawny couldn’t hear them.

Her senses were still all over the place, and her tailbone burned from rolling on top of her eight tails. The calls directed at her were annoyances as she honed in on something more alarming.

“Leave!” she alerted her indecisive allies once more, clutching at her aching back and witnessing the threat carefully reveal itself from behind a streetlight.

As soon as her allies had left her behind, she came into contact with the spotlight she was standing under, understanding immediately that her assailant was after her and her only. She fell back on the two common reasons why someone would attack her.

Is he someone from the mob taking their anger out on a protester to clear the way? Or does he just want my traits?

Tawny plopped onto the asphalt, heaving slower breaths as the threat came into full view. Her tails arched over her, raring to knife down her opponent.

There was an ensnaring attempt. So it’s most likely the second one—

“Why are you sitting down?”

A snap sounded.

The air crackled with a shimmer.

And then an explosion thundered, shrieking along with the severe cries of adults and children.

What?

Metallic shrapnel rocketed in her direction. Her ears rang, forcing her to clutch at two of the many ears protruding from her head. She gritted her teeth, slouching clumsily onto the ground. One of her tails leaked blood; she was closer to the explosion than she had thought.

Goddammit, I need to move further down the road.

She couldn’t even hear her thoughts as the fear around her skyrocketed. A fiery ash cloud polluted her view—she could make out some cars caught in rampant flames. People ran or stood around crying before being dragged away by nearby individuals with a will to live.

These were the same people who tried to oppose her as she sat. Now, she was half-sitting with her oppositions beetling away with their tails between their legs.

She searched for a particular pest she hoped was doing just that.

That idiotic man is probably crapping himself—damn, wait. I need to focus.

She discarded her hefty grudge for later, whipping her head around at her attacker. Wincing at the instant pain, she moved the bruised tail around her waist and into her lap, caressing the area around the hairy cut with her thumb.

“Eff’ me! Shiet!” her attacker swore, his left hand gripping around the charred fingers of his right hand. As he hunched into himself, hawking red spit onto the ground, spectral sparks of white buzzed over his fingertips. He yelped, “Shiet!”

She noticed the sparks; it was prime time to take control of the situation.

“You can’t control that electricity?” Tawny asked, loud enough to rule over the attacker’s repetitive cursing. The ringing in her ears slowed. “You just caused unneeded destruction, bozo!”

“Screw off!” Then the man went back to swearing again.

The SDD and cops will arrive soon. I’ll just leave.

“As you say,” Tawny grumbled to herself, shaking as she stood. She walked cautiously on her feline legs, avoiding any sharp debris. “Everything hurts so—”

“Stop!”

A snap.

A shimmer.

An explosion thundered near Tawny’s feet, bowling her across the ground. Her grey sleeves would rumple and tear from the friction, but her skin didn’t. She kept steady, reverting to a sitting position after she came to a dusty halt.

He was more direct—

Snap.

Shimmer.

Explosion.

Car horns. Screams. Charred metal upon metal.

Bruh.

Snap.

Shimmer.

Destruction.

Snap.

Shimmer.

Destruction.

Every explosion the man caused was unpredictable. Some engulfed the traffic in their lane. Some ravaged the traffic on the other side of the freeway, resulting in more ruptures of orange and grey. More screams. More cries. More tyre screeches. More blown-up concrete. More tactless attacking.

Only some of these lightning strikes would reach her and catch her off guard, but she’d remain rugged and unscathed. That in itself didn’t mean that she wasn’t disturbed.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

She couldn’t nurture her burning tailbone from all the tumbling she had to do. She couldn’t cover her ears before the following haphazard explosions arose from her attacker’s snaps. She couldn’t even think straight or have time to fathom how someone could be so devoted to trying to ensnare someone.

But she wouldn’t fight back; letting others tire themselves out with idiocy was her go-to approach. She’d just sit and prepare a truthful scolding for the person trying to gain superiority in the dispute.

I’ve come to inform and teach, and now I’m here feeling like I have to fight.

“You want to ensnare me, don’t you?” Tawny sat her right elbow on her lap and dug her wrinkled face into her palm with scorn. “Just stop trying to use the electricity—I know you just got this ability recently, right?”

The attacker bled from his snapping hand, sparks snapping back at him like frostbite. He seethed in silence, slowly approaching her.

She didn’t move. She just sat.

He was in pain, so she had downtime—something her way of living never brought to her.

So she studied her new challenger’s appearance, preparing her tails for attack if needed.

One blue eye and one brownish eye. Heterochromia is a potential sign of harmonization with another human.

He got closer.

I see the typical dog's tail… Oh, didn’t notice the dog fur there under his sleeves.

He got closer.

He has some feathers on his cheeks too… A bird is part of the mix, I see.

He got closer.

Tawny gulped, kickstarting a series of groans in her stomach.

He probably has more people and animals inside of him.

He got closer.

Tawny’s stomach growled, wishing to lash out.

That lightning thingie may get more accurate the closer he gets, so…

He stopped.

Tawny’s stomach gurgled more.

If he wants to harmonize with me especially, he must know my move.

Her senses were still dull, but the sounds she could always hear, regardless of the chaos, were the sirens that always trailed her and her many endeavors.

They were her rowdiest customers yet—her most ambitious challengers. And if her current challenger didn’t want to back down and use his brain, she’d have to deal with one more challenger than she was used to.

This life she led was just a challenge. But when she had time to think about it on the run, she never threw herself at her foes; they were always the first to engage.

It was laughable, but what she prepared in her stomach was not a laugh.

They just keep throwing themselves at me.

Her attacker made a mad dash towards her, fingers in a snapping motion.

The sirens neared, snapping her senses into motion.

Being popular effin’ sucks.

She released the pent-up wind from her mouth as her tails flashed towards her opponent’s eyes.

----------------------------------------

Her eyes widened.

But… But I didn’t ask for this.

Tanairy sucked in a sharp breath, oblivious to the vines retracting away from her.

The breath never left, like the rafflesia bulb swelling out of her spotted wrist. In an ugly brown, its lobes bunched, voiding death into the air and her blood to the ground.

Her senses dulled, rotten flesh infiltrating her flared nostrils. But even when she felt herself lose touch with reality, the sirens in her head still ran rampant.

Stop it!

Why isn’t it going away?

Turn it off!

It hurts!

It hurts!

It hurts!

Stop!

“Your adrenal response must be fast, damn!” Theta commented. Tanairy’s blurry vision could make out the Eta couple rushing out of the house. They were wearing blue masks. “You’re quick on your feet—hun, do you have the—”

Tanairy fell to the floor, the sirens whirring louder as the people who attempted to attack her approached. Her face reddened. The cold sweat didn’t cool her down. Her brain wanted her to sink into the earth and escape. But her body wouldn’t move. Only her heart moved, in full steam, even when she was paralyzed from head to toe.

Held in place, she couldn’t struggle. All she could do was stare into space and see only red—flags, floods, and flashes of red.

Snip.

Shiver.

Deconstruction.

Something thumped heavily near her feet, bowling her out of her numbness. She noticed a large pair of pruning shears hovering over her rumpled and torn wrist. She stayed tardy, slowly realizing the detached flower bulb on the ground was dead in its tracks.

“Sorry for the scare.” It was Danae’s warm voice. Her flower eye entered Tanairy’s view, wet with fresh sap and red, which didn’t soothe her. She noticed the older woman inspecting her rough arm as if she were a plant, the florist attire making it more on the nose.

Her lungs began taking in more air, grizzly fingers unclasping from her nose.

“I told you about the inhibiting pheromones of the bulb.” Theta came into view, poking at the dead bulb on the floor with his bare hands. “I’d assume… its effects won’t actually affect you, as you are the host. But, as I always say, expect anything.”

“Wrap,” Danae muttered, noticing the skin on Tanairy’s wrist close up around small, uncanny roots etched in them. “As expected, her body does the…natural patchwork after the pruning. Oaf, do we still have ibuprofen?”

“Of course. The adrenal response is strong too… I think we must try clonazepam as well.” Theta turned away from the bulb and studied the frightened woman’s face. “Lots of it. I bulked up on a helluva lot of Lipton, so I hope to have a good variety for you, Ms. Ryd.”

She wanted to speak. She wanted to scream. She wanted to vomit.

There were many wants, but she only frothed at the mouth, unable to fulfil those wants.

“Sorry again,” Danae said, casually wiping at the foam with the back of her hand. She wore a focused look similar to that of her husband behind her, making them both appear professional. “My husband explained to you yesterday about the nature of harmonization—”

“It’s all sorta a bunch of muscle memory, coming in to save ya when you are thinking about it,” Theta explained, studying the browning bulb in his hands. “All mutations are ugly disorders, no matter how beautiful some may seem… in my opinion—”

I’ll help you stand.” Danae hoisted Tanairy onto her wobbling legs, helping her avoid the red stains on the concrete. “Hand around me now.”

“I like to think of it as the laws of simple diathesis-stress, where the diathesis is the mutation and the stressor is my wife—”

“Wow—”

“Wife shoots you with a traumatic surprise attack, your brain wants to act and defend itself, and then it awakens your mutation’s abilities.” Theta tossed the flower bulb back and forth in his hands. As they walked towards the doorway—Danae aiding Tanairy’s frozen body—Theta stared back at the blood on the concrete. “Negative environment, equally negative outcome—”

“You’re cleaning up the blood, by the way,” Danae said strictly, glaring at her jovial husband. “I don’t want any people to think we’re some butcher house with all that blood—”

“I kinda look like a butcher—”

“Also, I don’t think Ms. Ryd heard what you said—”

“Oh?”

“She’s in a state of shock right now, oaf—”

“No, she can hear me. She’s breathing decently,” Theta said, scratching his messy hair with dirty fingers. “Just need to make her know that in Harmonization Culture, you’ll find that your body can do bizarre things, even when you don’t want it to do those things. No one truly has control over themselves.”

Tanairy could hear it all; the sirens were dying down. As she was helped into the house—full of the homey sounds of a kettle and air conditioning—she began thinking calmer thoughts and breathing suitable air.

She still couldn’t speak. There were customers in her head that she could finally talk to ones of reason who didn’t push her to the edge. Or hunger got to her again, regardless of her recent meal.

But as much as she longed for food, she also longed for answers. So she mustered up her hunger to question herself.

I didn’t think that attack would be scary, so… Does my body work against me all the time?

The door behind her closed.

----------------------------------------

The door flung open.

“We gotta go!”

“Sin! Why did you—”

“That blockhead protester’s got another idiot attacking her and blowing the place—quick, I’ll help you out!” Sinjin pulled Cosima out from the bottom of the front seat more forcefully than intended, bringing her into reality outside the car.

Cosima had managed to shut the door her boyfriend didn’t close when he left, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the chaotic sounds that occurred on the road.

Now she could see it all.

Nearby sirens. Haunting bellows. Shrouds of fire. Clouds of smoke.

What horrified her most were the crowds of people, all fleeing for a chance to live.

But then they’d see her. So she had to hide away.

Sinjin helped. He always did. He pulled her close into his chest—his bubble—as they darted between rows of vehicles, attempting not to plough over other runners.

But his bubble wasn’t always the stablest. Sometimes, like when they were escaping a threat, it’d be on the verge of popping. He’d lose his cool.

“If we’re as lucky as we are for running into an infamous ‘effin leftist or something, maybe our car will get blown to bits!” Sinjin trumpeted, locking horns with himself. “How nice would that be, eh? That would be swell as all hell!”

His grip around her tightened, which she quickly perceived as defensive and loving. However, the dark look on his face she always feared was there, and it made the bubble cold and tight. Her body was as thin as his current patience, so she had to act.

“Sin, it’ll be fine—”

“It’s not. It really bloody isn’t!”

“Sin—”

“I’m sorry for”—he cursed, almost tripping in his steps—”leaving you behind! Give me the scolding if we actually make it out of this bloody alive!”

Right. Cosima was hurting herself, hugging him tighter than her build could digest.

She was already missing his warmth; the cold sweat must’ve washed it away.

Please calm down, Sin!

“It’s fine—I’m just glad you came back—”

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

“No, not like—”

“I’m not a monster—my mind’s just been killing me lately!” He stammered, searching for words as his breath turned raspy and his nose scrunched in agitation. But he still kept trying to rant and let himself explode for the first time in a while. “So much has happened in the span of two days! Two days! My brain is an effin’ mess! My back hurts like hell!”

Why can’t I calm him? What the hell is happening?

She hated how confused she was; her lover wasn’t some machine. He was unpredictable.

Then again, she could never handle unpredictability—she learned that the hard way.

And the learning never ended, as a resounding belch from afar forced everyone to a grinding halt, ears instinctively covered as the sound dominated over all other sounds. The burp’s prevailing winds kicked them to the floor, blowing away the crowd’s cries and the sirens. Some cars were ready to take off.

Sinjin held his hands over her ears, grimacing while he helped her to her feet as soon as the sound subsided.

“Must be that idiot’s belch—agh!”

“It’s ringing in my ears, too,” Cosima slurred, feeling herself pulled even closer. Yet he still felt so distant as the voices around them grew back to the chaotic normal, and his frown deepened further. He grumbled about his back more, prompting her to break him out of it. “You alright?”

His stance was defensive.

“I think so—stay close to me, OK?” It was hard to hear. He resumed helping her through the chaos in a snap. “We should be—”

Snap.

Shimmer.

Explosion.

And then everything came crashing down on them like a ton of bricks.