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Boston. Marcus had made it.

The teenage hybrid sat in a cheap motel's parking lot just within the city limits, the engine still running and his music on but turned low. In his hands, his phone displayed a picture he'd taken of the contents of his father's folder back home. The pamphlet, the contract, his birth certificate, the information on Heaven Hearts Hybrids. He had the address, something that a quick internet search confirmed was still accurate. A further check showed that it was about ten miles further into the city.

Marcus glanced at the highway once again. A multi-lane pipeline that would carry him straight into the city's belly. Directly in front of him, a roadside motel where he could rest in between doing... whatever it was he planned on doing further inside the city limits. He could figure that out later. As much as he would have loved to grab a hotel right in the middle of the action, Marcus had a feeling that he'd be better served having a little "home base" a few miles out where he could get a breather from the chaos.

"Eighty bucks," grunted the heavy bullfrog at the front desk, not looking up from his magazine.

"Um... you take cash?" Marcus asked in reply. He'd pulled a few grand out of his bank account at that service plaza along the way. If he knew the Lewises, they'd be closely monitoring his credit cards, seeing where any charges might show up.

The frog glanced at him, his massive neck bubbling up briefly before letting out a vaguely peevish croak. He was clearly suspicious of his new customer, and Marcus couldn't exactly say it was unwarranted. A kid, a hybrid no less, from out of town driving this big luxury vehicle, stopping at his budget motel and paying in cash? Yeah, it was pretty fishy.

"Extra fifty for cash only," the old frog said. He had an accent Marcus couldn't quite place, which only made him sound more ill-tempered. "Security deposit. You want more than one night, a hundred for the whole stay."

Marcus nodded quickly, pulling the full wad of folded bills out of his pocket and thumbing through it, pulling out a total of one hundred and eighty dollars and holding it towards the frog.

"I dunno how long I'm stayin' so... can I do up front in the mornings?" Marcus said, trying to sound as genuine and nonthreatening as he could. He even stuck a smile on his face.

The attempt at friendliness might have been somewhat helpful, but the sight of a stack of cash was plenty comforting to the fat amphibian, and his demeanor changed immediately.

"Heyyyy," he said, smiling in return. "You put cash up front, you stay as long as you like!"

Marcus didn't really have luggage, per se. He had a pile of school clothes and some of his more "rebellious" outfits for the weekend, along with whatever he'd scooped off of his desk, but that was about it. Then again, he wasn't going on vacation. He wasn't planning on staying in Boston for any longer than he had to. Granted, he wasn't doing much planning at all.

The room was, to put it charitably, basic. A queen sized bed, nightstand with a lamp on either side, a flat-screen television, one chair, and a table in the corner with a microwave and a little coffee maker on it. The walls were a dull grey, a cheap curtain thrown over the front window and an air conditioner rattling just beneath it. Marcus inhaled, wondering when the last time it had been cleaned was. From the smell, the best he could hope for was a quick vacuuming and a set of fresh sheets.

"...no dead bodies, at least," he muttered, peeking under the bed. On some level, he was almost disappointed.

Marcus dropped back on the bed and just laid there a moment. The mattress was hard. The sheets felt cheap, scratchy. He could tell they'd been sprayed with disinfectant and had a feeling that was about all they'd gotten. The ceiling felt almost oppressively low, like if he sat up quickly he might bang his head. There was no spinning fan up there like his bedroom back home, just a cheap overhead light with the corpses of a few dozen flies inside of it.

"Huh... I wonder how often Marcella has to clean those out..." he wondered to himself, realizing he'd never seen that at home. He thought about her having to climb a stepladder in all of the house's giant rooms, picking bugs out of the light fixtures.

"I hope she gets paid a lot."

A glance in the mirror reminded Marcus that he was still dressed in his school outfit, which probably worked to his benefit at the front desk. He swapped into what he liked to think of as his "punk" attire. The jeans alone cost as much as the van most punk bands drove from gig to gig, but they still looked the part. Distressed, with carefully placed tears, and they'd last because the rips were done intentionally and weren't likely to run. Designer skater shoes, though his board was back home, a white tee with a throwback band on its front, capped with a black and red striped hoodie.

"There we go. Now we're ready for Boston," Marcus said, satisfied that he looked appropriately cool and badass rather than like the private-school student he was.

With his bag on his shoulder, carrying a few emergency items (phone charger, pills, a change of clothes), Marcus went outside and sat on the curb for a moment, plotting his next move.

"Bus... or an Uber..." he wondered aloud, getting his earbuds properly situated.

Marcus opted for a bus. An Uber might have been simpler, but he didn't really know where he wanted to go and he was pretty sure a bus would be cheaper. Sure, he could drive straight to the address he had, but he was in Boston! He was in the big city, away from the sterility of Greenwood and his parents upper-class neighborhood. He could see how the real world lived.

Unlike the bus ride out to Amherst, this was from a streetside bus stop. The crowd was palpably different, looking much less like the white-collar travelers Marcus had encountered then and far more like... well, like what Mrs Lewis had warned him about. The jackalope quickly scuttled to a seat near the rear and sat by the window, doing his best to be inconspicuous.

Mercifully, it worked. Aside from some odd glances, no one seemed to be paying Marcus any mind. He wasn't even the only one with designer clothing on, and the jackalope cursed himself for suspecting that they'd paid for theirs with drug money.

He watched the city stretching up in front of him, the massive skyscrapers with lights in the windows all the way up. Marcus wondered what it'd be like to work there. What they even did. There were so many of them, it felt like Boston was the heart of the state and he'd only been living in one of the appendages.

The bus traveled along the river, giving him a beautiful view of what looked like a college campus. Unlike Greenwood, this one was modernized to the nth degree, its dormitories having a contemporary art flair and the layout less carved into the landscape.

Marcus was so enamoured with the city view that he hadn't noticed the bus filling up with passengers, and that he was getting a seatmate.

"Watch the fuckin' horns, dude."

The jackalope nearly squeaked in surprise, turning to see a downright massive tiger next to him. The feline's thick frame was made moreso by the large jacket he was wearing, making Marcus feel especially crowded in. The teen instinctively pulled his bag closer to his chest, holding it tightly.

"Uh... sorry, I wasn't trying to..." he began, not really knowing where his own sentence was going.

"Yeah well I don't feel like gettin' a fuckin' eye stabbed out," the tiger snorted, taking a drink from a can that his massive hand nearly enveloped. Marcus tried not to look too closely, but had a feeling it wasn't soda in there.

It was difficult to enjoy the city as it swept along with the imposing body crowding him against his window. Trying to avoid jabbing the cat with his antlers made them clack uncomfortably on the glass, making Marcus cringe for fear of annoying his new seat mate with the noise.

"Why you got horns? Didn't think rabbits had horns,"

Marcus swallowed awkwardly. "Oh, uh... I'm actually a jackalope. Not really a rabbit, but I am half jackrabbit, that's kinda close. And my dad was a prong-"

"Wasn't askin' for your whole life story, shit," the tiger cut him off. "Fuckin' hybrids..."

With that, their brief friendship was over. Marcus frowned, trying his best to sink further into the small space he had between the tiger's side and the bus's inner wall. The barbs at school hadn't cut him nearly as deep as that simple dismissal.

It was then that Marcus noticed the bus had taken a bit of a turn away from the river and the fancier area he'd been in before. The buildings had grown shorter, less ornate. They alternated between what looked like apartments and smaller businesses, restaurants and the like. The jackalope panicked, feeling he'd gone a bit too far, and quickly realized he had no idea how to tell the bus to stop.

"Um... sir? Excuse me? I'd like to get off now!" he called up towards the driver, his voice gradually increasing in volume as he tried desperately not to be any louder than necessary.

When nothing happened, he tried again, his voice raised a few decibels further.

"Bus driver? Hello? I said I'd like t-"

Marcus was cut off by a thick, striped arm stretching across him, the burly paw at the end of it pressing into a large yellow stripe against the wall next to him, causing a loud ding and a light to flick on.

"...thanks," Marcus said, sheepishly.

He was grateful the tiger didn't reply.

Getting off of the bus was an adventure all of its own, because no one seemed particularly eager to make room for Marcus as he did so. It was a sequence of awkward long steps and turns to avoid his antlers colliding with anyone or anything they shouldn't, before Boston's public transport spat him out onto the sidewalk.

Up close, even the less-upscale area of the city was hypnotic.

Marcus took in a breath, smelling the autumn air through the filter of the urban world. Back home, it was mostly trees and grass that hit the nose, but out here the only trees were decorative, placed at intervals along the sidewalk. Back in Weston, almost nothing was within walking distance. Having a car was a necessity. Out here, it looked like everything you could need was all on the same street. Marcus saw markets, restaurants, laundromats, everything.

"Man... I could live here..." the jackalope said to himself as he walked along, spying apartment buildings with large signs about vacancies, offering discounts for students. For a moment, he genuinely considered it.

For the moment, though, he wanted to explore. To feel Boston beneath his feet and soak in its glow. The sun was still mostly overhead and, for the first time in a long while, Marcus felt energized.

In truth, this wasn't literally the first time Marcus Lewis had ever been in a major city. He'd taken enough vacations to have been to major international airports and stayed in five star hotels, gone to stage shows and seen museums. That was different. He was on a tour with his parents, shuttled from one destination to another and kept only to the parts of town that were geared towards travelers with fat wallets. Now he was in the thick of it. Where the real people lived. More importantly, he was free.

The young hybrid pulled his makeshift wallet out and flicked through the corners of his bills once again.

"All right... three grand to start, about two hundred down on the room..." he muttered to himself, beginning to do math. "Fuck, I could stay almost for the whole month and still have a couple hundred left over. I think I can afford to enjoy myself tonight."

As he made his way down the street, Marcus wasn't thinking at all about anyone else's eyes on him. He was just taking in the sights. He stuck his earbuds in and pulled out his phone, swiping a few more notifications away before pulling up a hip-hop playlist that seemed to vibe well with his new environment.

It was amazing, really. His parents had always told him that big cities were terrifying, dangerous. That outside of the small areas for tourists, it was nothing but drug dealers and murderers who would shoot you as soon as look at you. That wasn't what he saw here. Everyone looked... normal. Marcus watched shop owners carrying supplies into their stores, couples holding hands, suited-up office workers having intense calls on their earpieces, children running along while their parents chased them and yelled at them to stop. Hardly any different from home, just more tightly packed.

Marcus didn't have any destination in mind, but still felt like should be more alert. His eyes jumped from building to building, like he was expecting some clue to jump out at him. It was exciting, and he imagined himself in some crime thriller, hunting down bad guys.

"I'm walking the belly of the beast," he narrated in his head, imagining it with an especially gritty, hard-nosed voice. "There are suspects all around me. Any one of them could be my man. Maybe one of these stores is a front, with a secret passcode. I have to stay alert, who knows how many ears that chimera has..."

He laughed at himself, but the thought did cross his mind that he was probably the only jackalope in town with an adoption agency specializing in hybrids somewhere nearby. It wouldn't be that difficult to link them together.

By the time his playlist started to repeat songs, Marcus had made his way to where things looked more modern again, crossing a bridge over another river along the way. He stopped halfway across, looking outwards.

"Damn... I'm right at the ocean."

Less than a half mile away, the river's mouth fed into the Boston Harbor, where he could see several massive boats coming and going. He wondered what was on all of them. Travelers, suppliers, big important business and casual vacations. His mind went back to history lessons from school, and he saw the whole scene as it had been a hundred years ago, when this was the only way for major transport.

"Trade routes made it possible for our ancestors to move around the world," his social studies teacher, a little red panda with massive glasses explained. "Before then, they had to live close to their food sources. My grandparents wouldn't have been able to survive on what grows here in America natively. Port cities like Boston, Miami, and Los Angeles were the first step in helping our world integrate."

He could see it all in front of him, sepia-toned like old fashioned photographs, with the funny clothing from his elementary school textbooks. Birds coming in with bags of seeds. That panda's great great grandfather selling off a load of bamboo. A pack of lions with live cargo...

Marcus shook his head, clearing that thought out. His teachers, at least in the earlier grades, always did their best to gloss over the bloodier parts of history, but there was no way to get around some of it. Regardless, he had things to do, and he would figure out what those were.

First, though, food.

It wasn't that Marcus was especially hungry, but he needed to sit down and rest his feet after all that walking, and there were more restaurants littered about than he could count. Each one had a clear clientele in mind. Carnivores here, herbivores there, grain diets, fruits and vegetables, avians, mammals. His eyes were drawn to an ornate sign for a coffee and salad bar with an outdoor patio area.

"Welcome to Gyp... sy's?" a friendly giraffe girl at the front desk said, getting distracted by the pair of antlers she was on eye-level with, since they were currently attached to someone who had no business having antlers.

"Uh... yeah," Marcus coughed, hoping to bring her attention back downwards. "Was wondering if I could get a seat out on the patio?"

The giraffe nodded, quickly putting her customer-friendly demeanor back on. Marcus was bad at ages, but this one looked barely older than him. He wondered if she was working there to help pay for school, a problem he realized he'd never have to deal with even if he did go back.

"Of course! Place your order up at the counter, pick it up at the end, sit wherever you'd like!"

The menu at Gypsy's was immense, stretching nearly across the entire wall. There were workers chopping vegetables, pulling bread out of small ovens, brewing coffee, all of them looking far more passionate about it than the charming camel he'd bumped into at the chain cafe in Amherst. Everything was being hand made with fresh ingredients, but it wasn't like the snooty restaurants his parents took him to. He liked it. It felt normal. A high-quality normal.

Marcus sat at a table outside, working at a large salad and a coffee made with fresh beans and someone who cared how it came out, and started to take stock of himself.

"Well, Marcus, you're across the state, no one knows you're here, your parents are freaking the fuck out, and the only idea you've got is that the orphanage you were adopted from is somewhere nearby. What. The fuck. Are you doing."

The jackalope felt that familiar catch in his chest, his head starting to swim. He swallowed hard, forcing his breathing to stay steady. Not now, he thought. Of all the times to lose his cool, now was the worst for it. He had to keep it together.

"Okay... okay, Marcus," he started. "You're gonna find Heaven Hearts Hybrids. You're gonna talk to the owner. Maybe he actually knows where your dad is. Maybe your mom was lying about that part. Maybe she was lying about a bunch of it. You're gonna talk to the owner, ask about your dad, and... annnnnnd..."

The jackalope's leg bounced rapidly on the ground, bumping up into the table. The only thing he could think to end the list was, "...and ask him how the fuck he can just buy and sell his own kind."

That was a strange thought. His own kind. Between himself and the chimera were five species, and they had none in common. Somehow, he felt more of a connection with another hybrid than he did anyone from the two species he shared genes with. It was a different link, less about what they were made of and more what they'd been through. The chimera had to know the pain and the struggle, so how could he treat hybrids like merchandise?

Marcus sat his phone on the table and poked around at the screen. He looked at the Heaven Hearts Hybrids website, the friendly pastel colors and pictures of happy families on the day of adoption, along with some labeled "success stories" from years later. High school graduations, some college. Nothing terribly exciting. Donation links on the side, some news articles about them and all their good work. The whole site had a vibe of being made to intentionally look amateurish, like a family homepage rather than a multimillion dollar company.

"We know the adoption costs seem high," stated text on their About Us section, "but remember, these are special youths, with special needs. Proper care is expensive for children of mixed species, and this is why we are very discerning about who we adopt out to. All donations and adoptions fees go towards ensuring that these boys and girls are given everything they need today, tomorrow, and for the rest of their lives. If you think that may be with you, contact us today."

Marcus snorted. "When you buy a baby for twenty fucking thousand dollars, gotta make a profit on it."

He swiped down further along the page, down to the biography of the owner, accompanied by a big smiling picture of the chimera.

"Adrian Lucas, born in 1973 to lion mother and snake father, only to discover his mother had a little goat hybrid in herself when their boy emerged bearing traits of all three. Unable to care for him, Adrian's parents left him in a local orphanage where he was ostracized by the other children and passed over by prospective parents, until he was old enough to leave on his own. After spending years searching for himself, he decided to make a difference for other hybrids like himself, founding Heaven Hearts Hybrids in 1998, and set about his mission to show that these children are not outcasts, but treasures."

The jackalope felt that ball of tar building up in his belly again. Sure, he thought. That's why his mom wasn't allowed any contact and she never even got told where they were taking him.

"I'm gonna get you, old man," he said aloud at his phone screen. "And you owe me some answers."

He sat on that patio for a while then, watching passersby, getting some more coffee (which wasn't exactly helping his nerves, but damn if it wasn't excellent), and just thinking about what all was ahead of him. Marcus had a sense of purpose, even if he wasn't entirely clear about the particulars. He knew where he was going and who to talk to.

Once the sun started setting, Marcus decided it was time to get up and moving again. He gathered his things and went back out on the sidewalk, heading further into Boston.

"Damn, imagine looking out the window and seeing this every night," he laughed to himself. Now that things were darker, all the storefronts were turning on their signs, making the whole street light up in neon. Back home, the only lights for a few miles in any direction were street lamps or if a security light went off when someone walked past it. Marcus wondered how anyone in those apartments managed to sleep with so much going on just outside.

"Shame I ain't twenty one."

Not that the only places to go were bars, it certainly looked like there were all-ages hangouts as well. Concert venues, dance clubs, independent movie theaters, comedy clubs. He couldn't imagine getting bored here. Picking what to do first was genuinely difficult, because it felt like he could just throw a rock and wherever it landed would be fun.

Before he could pick his entertainment for the night, Marcus felt a sudden shove from behind that nearly sent him sprawling. A second later he saw someone sprinting ahead of him. He saw spots on a long tail as it rushed away, but more importantly, he saw his designer bag hanging from the cheetah's hand.

"Hey... HEY!" Marcus called, as if it would make the thief stop, before scrambling to his feet and sprinting in pursuit.

The jackalope didn't know his way around Boston, but a few years on the track team at Greenwood along with a set of jackrabbit legs meant he didn't have a hard time gathering speed, but just keeping the cheetah in his line of sight was a struggle. The feline slid through the crowd effortlessly, his feet barely making contact with the ground. Marcus was going as hard as he could, his but he wasn't a distance runner, he was on the hurdles team.

"Hey! Someone stop him! He stole my bag!!" Marcus gasped out, starting to lose steam while the cheetah began to disappear. Finally, the hybrid's legs were done. There was no way he was catching up. His bag was gone.

"Ohhhh fuck... fuck fuck fuck," the teen said under his haggard breaths, still staring in the direction his robber had vanished. His heart was already pounding from exertion and his breathing was heavy, but he was beginning to feel the tell-tale signs of panic settling in. He swallowed hard and started pacing, his hands on top of his head.

"All right... hold on, still got my wallet, right?" he said, patting his pockets and finding the clip inside. "Okay... wallet's safe, got my phone. Bag was just charge cables and shit, just... fuck. I really liked that bag."

Marcus's shoulders sagged, his eyes looking at the Boston residents milling around him. For the first time, he was angry that none of them were paying attention. The one time he needed help and now was when the world decided to pretend he wasn't worth focusing on. He rubbed his face, just glad he had all the important things in his pockets...

...except for his keys. He'd put them in the bag.

"Oh fuck..."

A sinking feeling hit Marcus's chest. He pulled his miniature wallet out and checked. The only cash he had was the change from lunch. He didn't feel comfortable flashing a wad of cash whenever he pulled out his wallet, so he put the rest...

"FUCK!" he barked, getting a moment of notice from an elderly pigeon.

"Oh NOW you see me. Thanks," Marcus said to the confused bird, turning around and getting his bearings back.

He'd obviously run for a decent distance, none of the buildings looked familiar, and the street's layout was less upscale than where he'd started. The storefronts weren't quite as ornate, there were more apartments, the sidewalks were narrower. Given what had just happened, he was beginning to feel much more vulnerable than he had. Maybe his mom was right about this place.

"No... no, fuck no she wasn't," the jackalope said to himself. "I'm fine. I'm fucking FINE. I just... I just gotta get back to... somewhere. The old frog at the hotel will understand. I still got my laptop at the room, I can... I dunno, I can get BJ to transfer me some money, maybe Corey can help me out. I'm fine. Everything's fine."

Marcus didn't feel fine, though. Not by a longshot. Not only was his hybrid status leaving him feeling isolated, being two different prey had him looking suspiciously at absolutely everyone now. His eyes jumped from one face to another, trying to decide just how threatening they might be. At least back at Greenwood all he had to worry about was someone throwing insults at him. Here, every time a shadow came over his shoulder Marcus spun on his heel to see what it was.

He was teenager on the run, in a big city, with less than a hundred dollars to his name.

"I am so... so fucked..." Marcus said to himself. He had to sit down, he felt like he was going to pass out.

The only thing Marcus could think to do was head back the way he'd come and hope for the best. The sun was further down now, and the added darkness left him more desperate than ever to get back to where there were bright lights and friendly giraffes bringing him coffee. He also realized his headphones had been knocked out of his ears when the thief shoved him down, and further realized that was probably how he hadn't noticed the cheetah coming up behind him.

It was as if a coating had been cracked off of Boston. A shiny, friendly veneer that had Marcus anxious to get moving and find his answers that covered up a harder core. An hour ago, he was thinking about staying in Boston forever. Now, he just wanted to finish up his business get out of there.

He walked along, glancing at the storefronts again, when one rather odd one caught his eye. It looked similar to the nightclubs from before, but with the windows covered and the whole outside wall totally flat. A massive neon sign advertising the name "Temptations" with some not exactly subtle outlines of nude girls told him what was going on inside.

"Exotic dancing," he read, getting a dark laugh out of it. "Hey, maybe I should ask if they're hiring."

It was a joke, but that was when a poster stuck to the outside near the recessed front door caught his eye. A massive portrait that said "One of a Kind: MELODY" in looping letters, with a headshot of Melody herself.

A beautiful, sultry unicorn.

Marcus stared at the poster, transfixed by it. He'd met other hybrids in his life. Mules, tigons, coywolves. Common crossings, nothing from wide-apart species. Never another exotic. Now he'd just happened to find one by accident.

"Whoa, hey, the fuck you think you're going?" a broad-shouldered grizzly just inside the front door bellowed as Marcus burst in. The jackalope barely came up to the bear's chest, which currently had a black polo shirt that was straining to wrap around it.

"Melody!! Is she here?" Marcus asked as he slid in, his head whipping from side to side to locate the unicorn. The lights were low, neon strips and colored lights littered throughout the bar that made it difficult to focus, though he could make out a stage at the rear in the center with a pole from its floor up to the ceiling, and two smaller spots like it off center towards the middle of the room. The one in the back was unoccupied, but the two others each had a dancer on them. Unfortunately, Marcus didn't have enough time to see if either were who he was looking for.

"Yo, no entry, no kids, fuck's the matter with you?" the bear growled at him, shoving the much smaller jackalope back outside.

"Wait!! I gotta talk to Melody!!" Marcus cried, before getting unceremoniously thrown to the pavement.

"Yeah, sure kid. Come back in a couple years. I'm sure she'll be happy to see ya," the bear chuckled dryly, before closing the door again.

Marcus stared at the closed front door. His hip and hand hurt from the landing, he was furious, he was humiliated. For the second time in a week, everything was going wrong. Whenever he went looking for answers, it blew up in his face. Marcus swallowed hard, putting every ounce of energy into holding back the tears that wanted to well up in his eyes.

"Fuck you!!" he yelled at the door, with a lot more confidence than if the bear had actually been his target. He stood slowly, wincing at the abrasion on his palm, turning to look at his leg.

"Aw, come on, man," Marcus whined pitifully. His designer jeans had a rip in them that wasn't manufactured, making a large hole just under the back pocket. "This shit just isn't fair..."

The injured teen sat down on the curb, elbows on his knees and his hands cupped over his muzzle. His legs started to bounce again, a knot building his throat.

"Yo... little man!" that deep voice called out.

Marcus sniffled hard, wiping his eyes and turning to look behind him, just praying it wasn't obvious what he'd been doing.

"...what?" he said back, aiming for at least a little gruffness in his voice but mostly coming out terribly sulky.

The bear leaned out, frowning and rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, uh... sorry about that. Didn't realize Melody knew ya. I mean, I coulda guessed cuz of..." The bear gestured at his own head, then grunted. "I mean, not like ya gotta all know each other, but... hell you know what I mean."

Marcus had absolutely no idea what the bear was talking about, something the massive ursine seemed to take as an indication he was saying the wrong thing. "Fuck, look, we're not supposed t' let anyone underage in here, and we sure as shit can't serve ya, but if you wanna take a table in th' corner and hang out until she's uh, until Melody's done performin', boss says that's all right."

The jackalope stood up slowly, not moving from his spot at first. He didn't trust the bear. With everything else that had happened so far, he was expecting to walk up and get shoved down again while the bear laughed at him for being a stupid kid.

The bear, meanwhile, rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, a'right?" he said, trying to soften his voice. "C'mon in, I'll have Kelly get ya... I dunno, a soda or somethin'." He opened the door up and waved a giant hand to invite Marcus inside. As the teen awkwardly shuffled inside, the bear groaned, seeing the tear in Marcus's jeans.

"Ah, fuck. Was that from me? I'll buy you a new pair, just don't tell nobody that was me, a'right? Don't need to be catchin' hell for roughin' a teenager up..."

Kelly, as it turned out, was an athletic looking polecat behind the bar with his hair in a big knot at the back of his head and the kind of laugh that got everyone joining in, something that he put to good use as Marcus was led inside.

"Hah! Melody's gonna be pissed if she finds out you were beatin' up one-a hers, Dante!"

"Ey, come on!" the bear complained. "I was just doin' my job! Get 'im somethin' to drink, a'right? NON alcoholic, I don't wanna get in any more trouble."

Dante carefully led Marcus along as close to the wall as he could, trying to avoid any attention from the patrons. The teen got a better look at Temptations' interior now, though his focus was entirely on those two dancers he'd only glanced at earlier. Neither were Melody, but in that moment he almost forgot why he'd come in.

On the left stage, a slender and graceful cockatoo with bright white plumage gracefully spun around her pole to the delight of the few customers gathered around her platform. With the colored lights around her, the bird's feathers had a purple glow to them. On the right, a black jaguar was performing similar gyrations, the neon bulbs letting her rosettes show through in ways they wouldn't in normal sunlight.

But, more than any of that, Marcus's eyes were absolutely locked on their barely-existent outfits. The two were complementary in color and species, and their clothing did the same. The cockatoo was just kept modest thanks to black material, the jaguar with white. They spun, bent, and stretched along with the deep thudding bassline playing, bills placed down at their feet to entice them to come closer.

It was in that moment that Marcus realized he'd only ever seen a strip club in hip-hop videos. He froze, gaping at the girls, waiting to see if they'd take off what little they had on.

"Yo, kid, get movin'!" the bear grunted, shuffling Marcus along to a booth in the far corner of the club where he could be at least relatively hidden. It wasn't like anyone was coming in to sit as far away from the dancers as possible.

Kelly came over with a glass of soda and sat it down next to Marcus, taking a seat right alongside him.

"Hah, see those guys? Guarantee you every one of 'em is gonna tell their friends that the stripper totally liked them the best!" he laughed, clapping Marcus on the shoulder as he stood up and headed back to his post. "That's how ya know a pro! Pretty sure Melody's gotten wedding proposals!"

Marcus laughed with the polecat, though it was about as forced a laugh as he'd ever performed.

The jackalope squirmed in his seat, watching the display. From his vantage point, everything looked sleazier than those music videos with the fancy camera angles and slow motion showers of dollar bills all over the place. They made it look almost like a display of wealth, this looked more like a bunch of old guys coming off work and blowing a paycheck to get a girl to shake her tits at them.

Of course, it was easy to judge from a distance. He was staring at the same tits that they were, and if he was up close he'd probably be throwing down his own money. Well, if he had any.

Marcus went through three sodas while he watched what he gathered was Melody's opening act. The crowd grew larger, with customers taking seats that got closer and closer to his table. He did his best to not look as out of place as he felt, but every time one of them glanced his way, the jackalope felt his ears go hot. He didn't know what was making him the most uncomfortable, the idea that they were staring because of his age, because of his species, or just the idea that he was hanging out by himself in this place at all.

"Alllll right!" came a voice over the speakers that Marcus realized belonged to Kelly, a microphone in his hand.

"I want everyone to give a big hand to Cheri and Danielle!" he continued, followed by a round of applause, whistles, and hoots from the crowd while the two girls exited the room. "But I know what you all came for, so everybody turn your attention to the center stage please."

The lights dimmed down, aside from four that pointed at the platform to the rear of the club, and the music silenced.

"You're not gonna wanna look away for even a second, not that you'll be able to, so get out those wallets and get ready... the only unicorn you may ever see in your life... Melody!"

The music started up again, but this wasn't like before. It wasn't a digital beat with synthesized bass. The drums were heavy and tribal, guitars gently sliding up and down the register. A voice came in that was so breathy and ethereal the words themselves were nearly impossible to make out. Just then, from behind a small curtain, Melody emerged.

Marcus's breath caught in his chest. The girl was stunning. More than stunning. She didn't look real. The unicorn drifted out onto center stage so smoothly he thought she was flying. Everything around her faded away, a haze enveloping the entire club as though the universe was making sure there was nothing anyone could focus on but Melody's act.

The unicorn took hold of the pole, and just began to float around it. She spun, but her movements were slow, as if gravity didn't have a place in her world. With the lights on her, Marcus got a much better look at Melody. A multicolored mane in curly tresses that spilled over her face when she bent. Her coat was a brilliant white, even more so than the cockatoo earlier. She danced in bare feet, wearing only a thin purple bottom that did more to accentuate her curves than hide anything from view. Her bare breasts were modest handfuls, with the barbells through her nipples twinkling beneath the lights. Even her horn was glamorous. It stood out a solid foot and a half from her head, perfectly spiraled.

Marcus was entranced. Melody pressed her back to the pole, effortlessly inverting herself, held aloft just by the crook of one knee and where the pole sat against her hip. The other girls were dancing, Melody was making art. Her body shifted and bent into shapes, like ancient glyphs timed with the music speaking messages Marcus was desperate to understand. Every motion was deliberate, not a single movement out of sync. She even managed to pick the offered money off of the stage floor without breaking her rhythm.

After some ornate twirls, Melody hoisted herself upside down near the top of the pole and abruptly dropped straight downward, pulling a frightened yelp from Marcus. He thought she'd slipped, she was going to break her neck. No, of course not. Melody would never allow herself to do something so graceless, so inelegant. Just when it seemed she was going to crash down to earth, the unicorn stopped herself using only the strength in her legs. The tip of her horn tapped the stage platform, and she used it as a post, balanced perfectly between that and one hand still on the pole while she folded in half, her feet finding purchase once more.

Marcus burst out in applause and whistling through his teeth, not caring if he was the only one making such a racket. He couldn't even hear himself, let alone the others. Emotion was flying out of Marcus unrestrained, and he silenced himself only because he didn't want to interrupt whatever was to come next.

He had no idea how long Melody's act lasted. A minute. An hour. By the time it was over, Marcus was dizzy and his heart was pounding, but he felt no need to do breathing exercises. He did feel need to do some other exercises, but those could wait. Maybe not too long, but at least until after he got a chance to talk to her.

Or, maybe before that. Just to avoid anything getting awkward.

"Melody everyone!! Tell me that wasn't life-changing!" Kelly called over the speakers while the music lowered, the lights changed, and Marcus was made aware of the rest of existence once again as the other patrons howled and clapped.

The teenager wished he'd been allowed to have a drink, he needed something to calm his nerves. How could he possibly talk to her? What was he going to say? He was just some sheltered kid who ditched math class to drive out here, she was... an angel. There was no other way to put it. His heart started to beat rapidly in all the wrong ways again.

"Hey, little man."

Marcus nearly jumped out of his seat. "What?!? Oh! Uh, yeah?"

Dante nodded his head to the bar where Kelly was working, a door at the end of it on the stage side. "Go behind the bar, hang a left, there's a hallway back there, Melody's got her own dressing room. And uh, sorry about earlier."

Marcus nodded. "Yeah! Yeah, uh... no problem. Dante, right? That's what he said your name was? I'm Marcus."

The bear chuckled, "Good meetin' ya, Marcus. Get movin', try not to let anyone see you go back there, a'right?"

Another quick nodding and Marcus scurried along the wall of Temptations, doing his best to stay out of anyone's eyeline, and slipped through the door.

Somehow Marcus had expected something a little more... dramatic in the back area. Sinks, kegs with tubes coming out of them, shelves with bottles, it looked like halfway between a kitchen and a bathroom. At the moment there was a gangly wolf of some kind sitting on one of the tables, eating pizza right out of the box.

"Ayyy," he said, voice sounding like he'd spent his entire life chain smoking. "What you doin' back here?"

Marcus swallowed uncomfortably. "Uh... I'm Melody's friend? Dante said she was back here?"

The wolf snickered, seeing the unease on the teen's face. "G'on back," he said around a mouthful of pizza. "Don't have too much fun!"

The hallway that snaked behind the whole bar was only barely lit, giving just enough illumination to be able to navigate it. Two doors for bathrooms, one for storage, another with a small stairwell that led up to it labeled "Stage." He made a quick pit stop at the bathroom to get rid of the sodas from earlier, then resumed the journey. There were two doors at the far end of the hallway. One was an emergency exit, and the other had a small sign stuck to it.

Melody.

Marcus stood in front of that door, anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot. He tried to come up with something to say. An opening line, an introduction, an icebreaker, a joke, anything. No matter how hard he tried to flex his brain, nothing came to him. Just a blank.

"You're here, dude..." the jackalope said to himself, keeping his volume low. "First thing that's gone right in forever, come on. Just knock... just knock..."

Going as gently as he could, Marcus rapped his knuckles on the door twice. It was barely audible, making so little contact it was like he was afraid of breaking his hand. Then twice again so it actually made a sound.

"C'mon in!" came a voice from inside. It was every bit as melodic as both her name and her act had said it would be.

Marcus took a deep breath, and opened the door just wide enough to let him slip into Melody's dressing room.