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"So your parents are different species? Like entirely?"

"Pretty much..."

_"Don't you think that's risky?" _

"Hmm..."

_The child, a hybrid between a wolf and bear, ponders the thought. Despite them being in the same fifth grade class, the bear towered over the already petite weasel. Though that applied to pretty much every kid in town. _

"Well, if it was so bad, why does it happen naturally? We're born the same as any other folk. My parents weren't the first, won't be the last. Certainly doesn't hurt no one..."

"Those are good points." The weasel replied.

"I wouldn't hurt no one..."

"I know you wouldn't, ya big oaf..."

The two watched the sun set across the horizon. They leaned on the railing of their high school's rooftop, facing out toward their busy suburb.

"Where are your parents, by the way?"

"Visiting my grandparents, over in Moscow."

"Moscow? Your parents' dancing with the devil, let me tell you..."

"Don't say that!"

"I'm just saying, Borris..."

_A bright light suddenly appears, and engulfs the entire town. The two of them turned toward one another, unbothered by the blinding white surrounding them. Several more lights flash all around them, and each time the hybrid sees the weasels' bones and veins through his body. He looks down to find the same effect on his own arms, lasting until the light faded away. _

_When the color returned, the hybrid saw great pillars of fire, several of them stretching thousands of feet into the sky. _

"They should've known it wasn't safe..."

"No where in the world is safe..."

The weasel sighed, looking off into this distance. "I just wish you weren't alone, is all... very few people in this world are born with gifts...let alone one like yours."

He turned hopefully to the bear. "You just have to be careful."

The hybrid wiped at his wet eyes, until he noticed a large wave of fire approaching them at all sides.

_"...Do you think they'll ever forgive us?" _

_The sound of destruction increased rapidly, and it felt as though the world was ablaze. _

_"I guess I don't have to worry about it...that's all on you. A gift of strength to rival all the others..." The weasel chuckled, wiping his own eyes. _

"Really wish I could've seen it...but forget about me. You need to leave this place, Borris. Never come back, okay?"

He gasps, awakening in shock. The hybrid stared at the ceiling, trying to calm his quivering breath as tears dared to streak down his face. Minutes pass as he grounds himself to reality. He cranes his head, taking in the sight of his unkempt bedroom. His dreary cove actually felt somewhat comforting. He loosened the grip he had on his blanket, and was upset to find he had four finger-sized holes in it.

Borris furrows his brow, the bed creaking under his weight. He lifts his arms up and stretches, a concerningly loud crack echoed through the room.

He heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth, staring blankly into the mirror as the toothpaste frothes in his mouth. His dark gray fur looked as normal as ever, along with the lighter toned fur that slashed across the bridge of his nose. Borris didn't have any qualms about his genes; overall he saw himself as quite the looker. But that damn depressed look on his face wasn't doing him any favors. He forced a smile, and his eyes were immediately grateful. All this gloom is just stress and lack of release, the hybrid thought.

At nearly 6'7, the hybrid had a hulking figure. Big broad shoulders, thick muscular arms and legs. His business partner (and only friend, really) would drag him out to the bars he frequented, and the queers there liked to joke that if he bounced a quarter off his ass he'd kill a bird with it. Borris gave a hearty chuckle at the memory, almost feeling guilty at how little he had to do to maintain this hulking physique. If he made even the smallest effort to not be so gluttonous, he'd have an 8-pack naturally.

Borris headed to his living room, a small space with a table to one side and a television stand on the other, atop it a small round black-and-white TV. A rotary phone and clock were mounted to the wall, and upon checking the time the hybrid found he was just in time for "Money Mayhem".

Borris rushed over to his kitchen, happy to feel his spirits lifted as he grabbed a box of cereal, and the glass dome he used for displaying cakes. He flipped the dome upside down and unceremoniously ripped the cereal box in half, quickly filling the glass with colorful oats.

The hybrid settled down in his favorite seat, even doing an excited wiggle of his hips, as he turned the small TV on. The big canine-ursine had a morning ritual he just loved sticking to.

But instead of hearing the theme song to his favorite show, the TV instead was silent white. A black ribbon hung above a few sentences displayed on the screen, to which a news announcer begins speaking:

"The producers at Money Mayhem have chosen to not air any new episodes or reruns, in remembrance to the tragic events that occurred thirty seven years ago today, November 1st, 1963. You are encouraged to go out and enjoy life, or join us as we pray for each fallen American city. To begin, of course, a prayer for New York..."

Borris stared slack jawed at the screen, his morning ritual all but lynched. "Ain't that a fucking bite..." he growled, flipping through the channels in disbelief.

"The producers at NNC have chosen not-"

"The producers at Snack Stop have chosen-"

"The producers at-"

"The producers-"

"The producers-"

Borris groaned, furrowing his brow as he sat in silence. After a few moments, he let out a deep exhale, calming his nerves. Just relax, he thought. He knew that this was a painful day for everyone; not just him. He opened his eyes...

"DAMNIT ALL TO HELL-"

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"Hello? Hi, I'm an account holder...sure I'll hold..."

The big brute stood by the rotary phone, twiddling the wire with his fingers. Smoke can be seen emanating from behind him, as a small fragment of the glass dome rolled around. The milk, oats and television parts lay scattered on the floor.. "Hi, is this the Dingo Electronics helpline? Yes, I have an account, it should be under B&B...yes, I'm Mr. Booker..."

He brought his paw beneath the waistband of his trousers, giving his butt a good scratch. "Mmhmm...mm...okay, so how much are your TV sets?"

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The komodo dragon walked with gusto through the bustling downtown of New Dallas, Texas. For the last three years, the city has experienced record numbers of new residents, with both companies and citizens making a new home in the budding metropolis; a far cry from when the city had been named El Paso. The growth and might of industry however, has made way for some of the worst crime sprees in recent years.

But the Komodo, with his copper-colored earplugs at max volume, wore a carefree smile beneath his ski-mask. Large hand-painted advertisements hung in front of store windows and the sides of buildings. All the citizens wore suits, trench coats and jackets, top hats and fancy dresses, aside from a few designed shirts. The cars were all from the mid-century or older, most of them rusted, though it was common to see ones that were kept brand spanking new.

The komodo brushed off his buttoned up raincoat, the dark brown contrasting well with his white scales. He paid no mind to the big signs people kept waving around to the crowds and the cameras. Not even their thoughts can bother the komodo's gifted brain, thanks to his new TuneBox he got last week. He always had trouble walking in public spaces, but being able to listen to music out on the street was a game changer.

Granted the thing itself wasn't new, being several years old and having plentiful scratches and some electric tape along the device. However, despite how sketchy the homeless man had been, the device worked. Even had the newer Dingo Electronics logo on it from the '97 merger. The unwashed rat had said it was a close item given to him by family...

Least I can do is keep it in good condition, the komodo thought. He briefly grumbled about the two hundred dollars he had to pay for the rugged hand-me-down, and the rage he'd have felt if the device was actually as useless as it looked.

His pondering is interrupted as the music stopped, prompting him to take out the device from his pocket. This brief pause allowed for a flood of voices to surround him, the thoughts of others invading his own. He briefly winced, the sound akin to a packed stadium minutes before the game.

He clicked the device open, finding a miniature vinyl inside. He removed the needle and flipped the palm-sized record over before closing the box shut. Before he could put his earplugs back in, the komodo took notice of a reindeer preacher standing on a cheap plywood podium, screaming his head off toward a decent crowd.

"Too many believe gifted folk are amongst those blessed by god. Well I say to hell with them! As if the divine power of God would ever be given to man. I say the gifted are endorsed by none other than the Devil himself!"

The komodo continued on his walk, paying the man no mind. He was about to put his earbuds back in, up until he went past one of the alleys.

By the dumpster at the end, he saw a tall figure cornering someone much smaller. He put his tunebox away. He adjusts his ski mask to a comfortable shape before walking down the alley, the voices of the two strangers catching his ear.

"Come on, I only have five bucks..."

"I don't cost a measly five dollars, sir-"

A harsh smack echoed down the alleyway. The komodo quickened his pace.

"Fuck off with that. You have a good week, and think you get to say no?..." The bull gave a broad lick onto the cougar's slender shoulders.

"Hey hey, cut the bullshit! Pun intended."

The komodo stopped walking, instead observing the bovine's angry face as he turned toward his voice. "And who the fuck are you?"

"Just a friendly neighbor. Look pal, I don't think the nice lady wants to do business with you."

The bull had a glare that could cut iron. He held out his arm, displaying the black smoke emanating from his closed fist.

"And the fuck does that have to do with you, lizard?"

"Oh! For me it's nothing, I'm a bystander..." the komodo chuckled, meeting the bull's gaze dead-on.

"Now Melissa, on the other hand..."

He smiled as the bull's face completely changed. "W-wha- how the hell do you know that name?"

"I work with her at her marketing job. It's one thing to commit adultery, but committing to any gal you want a taste from was bound to get you in trouble sooner or later. Say, when was the last time you've spoken with that underage girl out in the DHC? She calls you...what was it? Oh! You're her bank baby-"

A torrent of fire shot out the bull's hands, causing the komodo to jump back in fear.

"You fucking liar!"

"Hey now, come on, I'm just warning you that she spilled the beans about the affair to your wife this morning at work."

"And why the fuck would I believe you?"

The komodo looked into the bull's eyes, keeping his attention away from the woman running out the opposite side of the alley. She didn't even acknowledge the looming figure approaching the scene.

"How else would I know about the photo your wife keeps of her grandfather on the nightstand of your bedroom? And uh, how that bedroom is painted lavender. And in the nightstand she keeps...a creepy collection of baby dolls...she inherited from her grandmother?"

That did it, if the bull's dilating pupils were anything to go by. "HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW THA-"

A hand placed itself on the bovine's shoulder. He pushed away from the hand on instinct, but the bull found the grip hard as concrete, nearly dislocating his shoulder.

For a split second, the bull was truly afraid. He gulped the fear down quickly, turning to the assailant.

"What, you can't mind your own busi..."

Startled, the bovine took a few steps back. The grip on his shoulders belonged to a mammal, maybe a wolf or a bear. He was well over six feet, donning a light beige trenchcoat, unbuttoned to reveal a white shirt and tie. His face was obscured with a black gas mask.

"Wanna stop?"

The bull felt a surge of incompetence rush through him, but he brushed it off as he fired up his hands.

The komodo called out "Just for the record, your wife seems miserable. You shouldn't cheat on her, but I support you leaving."

The bull ran toward the komodo, but despite his adequate speed he felt that blasted hand tightly grip onto his shoulder.

"FUCK!" The criminal shouted, feeling a muscle tear as he struggled against the vice grip. "Who the hell are- MMF! HHGGHHH"

The hand around the bull's throat felt like an iron brace, as the tall man in the trenchcoat lifted him like a child does with their toy.

"Someone who could very easily make you a vegetable."

He watched as the bovine struggled, gasping for air as his face and eyes turned red. His legs frantically kicked above the concrete. The tall brute glanced over to the komodo, who frantically waved his hands as if to say 'dude, stop!'

The brute sighed, giving one hard squeeze on the bull's neck before letting him drop to the ground.

"Let this be a lesson for next time, you-"

The bull sweeps his hand, creating a flash of fire that makes the bigger man stumble back.

Despite the distraction, the brute displayed immense reaction speed as he gripped the bull's hand in its own.

"Back off!" He shouted, emanating immense heat into the hybrid's hand. His confidence was quickly drained as he saw the brute give no reaction, even when he cranked the heat. After several moments smoke poured out of their hands, eventually getting too hot for the bull.

"AHHHH! Shit!" The bull stopped shooting flames, and the bigger man let go. "Motherfucker!" He exclaims, shaking his blistered hand.

"You can only shoot it out of the one hand, huh?" The lizard questioned.

"W-what kind of gift can-"

The gas masked individual used his two fingers to flick the man's lower jaw, sending it crashing upwards. The force made the bull cut off the tip of his tongue, and left several of his front teeth shattered.

"FUCK, OH AI GAW! AI TON! AHHH" The bovine fell to the floor, writhing in pain as blood gushed down his face. It got to the point where the bigger man was feeling guilty. "Okay wow, umm...so this still is a good lesson for you, cause next time..."

He couldn't finish his sentence as the injured man began running, heaving and sobbing all the while.

The gas masked brute turned toward the komodo, who was scribbling down something in a small journal. "Nick, was that too much?"

"I think he shit himself on the way out..."

"Did you get his address?"

The komodo slammed the journal shut, putting it into his pocket as he replied "Did I? His thoughts were so loud, you'd think his brain had a microphone. I could write his biography."

"Is his wife really that bad?" The brute couldn't resist asking, knowing his partner's gift well.

"Ugh...Borris, you know I'm trying to stop spilling people's beans like that. We're working..."

"I know, and you're right, but can I be a bad influence just this once? Come on, it's November 1st..."

"You did not just pull November First on me."

"Come on, please?" Even through the gas mask, he saw the hybrid's puppy dog eyes. His tail even wagged behind his trenchcoat, and the komodo couldn't help but smile.

"Fine you fucker, I'll give you three. She gets offended if you say she did something wrong, and if you press it further she cries. She's a total religious nut, as well. And...ew, she has poor hygiene, down there..." The komodo squirmed where he stood, holding his groin.

Borris snickered as he saw the lizard's face grimace. "You can actually feel that? From all the way here?"

"Oh my lord, it's burning...how does she live like that, oy" he shook his head, ridding himself of that train of thought. The ski masked reptile pulled out a metal cigarette holder, not caring to tackle the mental hurdles a relationship like that entails. "On a more serious note, I noticed you were late today."

"My bad, I had a nightmare last night...about today" Borris replied, using the white lie to cover the half an hour he spent with Dingo's customer service line.

"Oh shit, I totally forgot. You okay, man?"

"Yeah, for sure. I'm fine."

The two stood in brief silence. The komodo clears his throat.

"We can always talk about it."

Borris grumbled to himself. "I'd rather not..."

An even more tense silence followed.

"I didn't mean that in an asshole way. It's just...it's been thirty six years. I'm tired of talking about it, you know?" The Komodo nodded along. "Wish we could just move past it..."

"I can understand that..." he blew smoke into the sky. "But you know we're never moving past it right?"

The hybrid sighed, leaning against the brick wall. "Yeah, I know...Remember when it was just Japan? You'd think two of those things were enough..."

The komodo sighed. "Shit, I forgot the first nukes were in Japan. Better off two than two thousand. Either way, nothing's ever enough for fascists and commies."

"Nowadays in school, they call it 'the death of the Western World'" Borris quoted with two fingers.

"At least the Soviets were sent to oblivion. That's a silver lining, right? "

"And now China's riding the wave of the power vacuum...you know it won't be too much longer before they annex France..."

"You sound like an old man, talking about politics and annexing. Hey, at least it'll make Paris affordable!" Nick laughed, though it awkwardly died as the bear didn't react.

"Hah, yeah...okay bad joke, but what can I say? We live in hard times...always have, it seems." The komodo pulled out a flash from his raincoat, taking a healthy swig. "I know it's early, but..."

The hybrid screws off the front plate of his mask and grabs the flask of whiskey.

"Yeah man, have at it..." He replied, watching as he kept chugging, tilting the flask higher and higher.

"Don't stop on my account..."

Borris finally tilted the flask back down, letting out a small belch. "How does it go...'may God never forgive the Soviet Sin'" he raised the flask to the air before handing it back to Nick.

"They'll burn in the pit the devil's in."

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Borris and Nick cleaned their plates at a Mom-and-pop restaurant, one they often frequented for brunch. The hybrid had unscrewed the front part of his gas mask, allowing him to eat while keeping his identity concealed.

"Hey, I have a stupid question." Nick asked.

"I have a stupid answer."

"Would you consider yourself a bearish wolf, or a wolfish bear?"

Borris blinked twice. "I've actually never thought of it." He took a swig of his water. "I'm the size of a bear. And I definitely eat like one. But my fur and my muzzle are very wolfish. Also the pointy ears and the big tail...I'd say I'm a wolfish bear."

"I totally disagree. You're a bearish wolf, no doubt."

"What was the point of asking me, then?"

"To see if we shared the same opinion. Moving on, I was thinking of perhaps going to the DHC this weekend?" The komodo blushed and looked away.

"Cool, go for it. In fact...why don't I come with you, this time?"

"Really? I mean I'd love that! Just, you know, you being..."

"I've been to Devil Horn before. I've seen plenty lynching to know how to behave. Besides, I hear the broads there are smoking. And let's just say my pole can make do with some polishing..."

Borris stiffened in his slacks, and the komodo sensed the feeling of the bearish wolf's rushing blood south to his groin, one of the many side effects of his gift. "Okay, I get it. Hell, it's half the reason I go there. But we have to be careful."

"No, I have to be careful. You don't need to fret about me, I want you to have fun with your little queers" the hybrid said with a sarcastic grin.

"Go toss yourself. And the queers I have fun with aren't so little..."

"Hmph! You don't say. I bet you're going to see that Icelandic sheepdog who sells the Indian hay-"

"Shhh!" The komodo exclaimed through hissed teeth. "Be quiet about that...and yes."

The two continued with their breakfast. At one point the komodo could only watch in silence, enamored at how the hybrid could finish seven pancakes in less than two minutes, all with the grace of a disciplined school girl. Not a crumb lay on his muzzle nor his plate, as he patted his lips with the napkin.

"Fuck, that was amazing. If you see the waiter, tell her to bring the check."

"Sure, and thanks for covering me."

"No need. I spend so much on food already, your plates don't even make a dent. So since it's Thursday, we'll be leaving for Devil Horn tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yup. I have a friend there who's cool with us crashing at her place. How long has it been since you've gone back?"

"It's been a few years..."

He noticed Nick stopped speaking, sniffing the air suspiciously.

The lizard tilted his head higher, his tongue shooting out to get a better read. "Hey, you smell something?"

"That's my bad, I farted like a minute ago-"

The komodo's eyes shot open, figuring out the scent he was catching was smoke. Filling the nostrils of a family several blocks down. Their panicked voices began filling his brain as he leapt up from his chair. "People are in trouble!"

The lizard began to book out of the diner, grabbing the attention of the patrons he ran past. The hybrid was a little dumbfounded before he remembered their job.

"Oh! Okay shit, uhh..."

He placed a fifty dollar bill on the table, more than enough for the food and tip. He chugged the rest of his milk, and took out the front part of his mask and attached it to his face.

"Anyone interested, look up B&B in the yellow books!" He calls out to the patrons as they watch him sprint out the diner.