No Exit: Chapter 5 Blitkrieg suffered from nightmares. It was a common affliction among corptrash, those poor, ill-fated guinea pigs. Some said the dreams were the worse for those that didn't remember what had been done to them than those who did. That it was subconcious crying out, breaking through in the only way it knew how. Her mind streams: The van first the van nightmare beetle ridden by nightmare monsters devourers of children of street dog-catchers boogie man get off the street but there's no where to get to do you see? Then then then the gowns made of white paper with no backs cold and white rooms with no windows no doors needles needles needles swimming in the blood and masks full of terrible visions you can't shut your eyes they won't let you. I don't want turn it off turn it off I'm gonna be sick please please please I want to wake up let me wake up. Wake up up up back through the looking glass stinking all over thrown out like trash born in garbage die in garbage. Wake up. "Wake up!" Blitzkrieg sat up suddenly and violently, ripping the pile of blankets from her body and staring about wildly in the paranoid way of one torn from nightmare, trying to convince herself that she was back to reality. She blinked under the artificial lights, supplemented by the dim, misty sunlight that managed to filter through the large warehouse windows that looked out onto an unyielding concrete wall. Jennie loomed over her, one long, elegant Kangaroo foot poised to deliver a swift kick to her ribs if she didn't get out of bed quickly enough. "I'm awake!" insisted the half-breed. "What is it?!" Jennie stepped aside with a flourish. The first thing she noticed was Tweak, sitting cross-legged on the table. He wasn't wearing his coat, which was odd. Then she caught a flash of green and gold braid out of the corner of her eye and realized that Tweak wasn't wearing his coat because it was currently being worn by a tall, gangly human male standing awkwardly behind the coffee table. "What," said Blitzkrieg. The word was barely a question, more an exclamation of disbelief. "I found him tied to our coffee table," said Jennie. "Naked. Do you know how NAKED a naked human is? They hardly have any fur. It's obscene." She paused. "And I don't even LIKE boys." Blitzkrieg shifted uncomfortably. "But... The doggie?" "Turned into this, I think," said Tweak, gesturing towards the boy. "An impossible possibility. New technology, maybe." Blitzkrieg's broad nose twitched almost imperceptibly, nostrils dilating. Yes, she could recognize notes of the animal's scent still present in the boy. There was something else there, though, something that made her mane bristle and rise in defense, Underneath the dirt and sweat and fear, he still smelled distinctly of good food and clean air. She still dreamed about that smell. "Corpie!" snarled Blitzkrieg, advancing menacingly, "Corpie scum!" The boy cowered, covering his face with his forearms. "Don't eat me!" he cried. His strange exclamation only made the Hyena-Rat hesitate for a moment before she bounded around the table and backed the terrified human against the wall. She could hear the protests of Jennie and Tweak, but they seemed dim and far away. "What new corpie trick is this, huh?" she hissed, her face inches from his own, yellowing teeth bared. "Changing your skin so you can walk streetside? So we won't know what you are? So you can collect names for the Dogcatchers? Do you have so much time, so much time that you do this for FUN?" "N-no," stumbled the boy, looking as if he was about to cry, "Please. Please. How could I want this? How could I want to be a-- a freak?" Blitkrieg seemed to become smaller as the fury drained out of her. "Okay," she said, almost with a sigh, and stumbled back over to her pile of blankets, where she sat down. "Okay," she said again. "You must excuse Blitzkrieg," said the Rat to the human. "She had... a nasty experience with some of your scientists. It makes her, uhm, respond quite emotionally to certain stimuli." Tweak screwed his monocle over his eye, in order to better observe the boy. "I'll 'emotional' you," muttered Blitzkrieg in a cryptic, threatening way. The boy jumped, but then relaxed somewhat when he realized her statement was directed at the Rat. The human boy, who appeared to be in his late teens, was tall and thin, and stood in a way that suggested a core discomfort with his body. The human's skin was a rich shade of brown, and his straight black hair hung to his skinny shoulders. His thick, dark eyebrows ran in a single, unbroken line across his brow and would have been described as stormy if they weren't raised so high up his forehead in utter terror. His long, thin fingers and toes were all curiously the same length. "What are we going to DO with him?" said Jennie, shaking her head. "I mean, we could try to ransom him, sure, but then we'd end up with the police banging down our doors. I mean, not just Dogcatchers with tasers. Border patrol. They have gas. Yeez, they have GUNS. We'll have to get rid of him." "No," said Blitzkrieg quietly. "We won't have to. Nobody's going to come looking for him." She raised her head, mad brown eyes absorbing the boy's appearance in a penetrating way. "Are they, kid?" Blitzkrieg picked at her claws distractedly. "They threw you out, didn't they? Just like me. Tossed out like garbage." The boy began to tremble, black eyes wet. He looked like he was about to cry. "No, you don't understand! My parents _love_ me. They wanted to _save_ me." Blitzkrieg rose from her blankets and circled the boy in the method of predatory interrogator. "Blitzkrieg, what-" began Tweak. "Can it, Rat," snarled the half-breed. She turned back to the trembling human boy. "They didn't care about saving you. They cared about saving their own reputations. Embarrassing, isn't it, for a corpie to have a mutant kid? Messy. Corpies want to keep their lines _pure_, uncontaminated by mutant genes. Mutation is only for filthy streetie trash . What happens to the corpie parents of a mutant child? Forced sterilization, I'd imagine. Shame. Ignominy. The extinction of their genetic line. Nobody wants that." The human boy sank onto the couch and buried his head in his hands. "I tried," he said, pleadingly, "I tried _so hard_, but I couldn't... I couldn't stop _changing_. My dad, he... He tried pills, injections, everything he could, to try to repress it. Some of them would work for a little while but eventually it'd... It'd just come over me again. There was nothing I could do. Sooner or later somebody was going to find out. Somebody was going to find out. So they... They got a street pass. And the next time I changed, they brought me out here and they... They..." "They left you," said Tweak flatly. He looked utterly disgusted. "They left me," repeated the boy solemnly. Jennie spat violently at the ground. Blitzkrieg's voice and posture changed again, into something a bit gentler. She put a clawed hand on the human's shoulder. "Feels better, doesn't it? To get it all out of your head. Anyway. You got a name, kid?" "Ramesh. Ramesh O'Brien." Blitzkrieg have him a brilliant grin that bared all of her sharp, yellowing teeth. Perhaps she thought it would be reassuring. "Welcome to the other side, Ramesh. Here. Have a cigarette."