A Taste of Whiskey

Note: This story addresses mature issues and contains references to violence, gore, sex, and alternative lifestyles. If you are uncomfortable with any of these topics, please do not continuing reading. If you have any comments or criticisms, please feel free to review and/or email me at kokkei.bunni@gmail.com


Chapter Two:

New Babylon, upon first glance, looked just like every other city in the world. Its streets were packed with cars, its buildings towered overhead, and there seemed to be a general layer of filth and dirt over everything. People packed the sidewalks, each one of them late for something or another. No one wanted to linger on the streets, but I'd seen that before, on the Outside. At least in here you knew your attacker couldn't run too far. Not having anywhere else to go can really put a damper on major crimes, especially if there's the chance that you'll be banished and loose the only sanctuary available to you. No one wants to be exiled from a GARI town. There's nowhere else to go.

I made my way through the crowd. It wasn't until the crowd surrounded you, until you were submerged in it, that New Babylon became something distinctly more than just another city. People of all shapes and sizes, all forms and colors, made up a crowd that should have been a lot more homogenous. I brushed past a woman with radioactively green skin and glowing yellow eyes, avoided a furred man who was too busy reading a newspaper to pay attention to where he was going, and ducked when someone whizzed overhead. It was overwhelming, at first. I hadn't been around many Freaks during my earlier years; I couldn't be, they more than any other Normies would figure out what I was with only a few clues. Plus, on the outside, the only Freaks you encounter are the government's puppets and figure head automatons. They have a specific purpose -- make it seem like the government cares while assuring that it doesn't have to. I'm still not sure what they do.

It didn't help that I could feel the cat stirring inside of me. It was my constant companion, a panther that vyed for control of at every turn. It was how I'd known, almost from the literal moment I was born, that I wasn't a Normie. Normies don't talk about the beast inside of them, or have to struggle against primal urges distinctly out of place in our 'evolved' civilization. I'd learned to control it, to tell myself it wasn't there, to ignore it and pretend so dedicatedly that I could almost believe that there was no one else in my head, no other being there with me.

I wonder if all Ferals feel like there's always someone watching over their shoulder.

Here, among all these people, some of them Ferals themselves, it was getting pretty hard to ignore the panther. I wasn't worried. I was really good at it. I could tell when it was going to make a move, could divert my attention to deny it the ability to take hold. I was as normal as I could get, barring the monthly loss of control and subsequent furriness.

Someone stopped in front of me. I stepped aside, muttering annoyedly to myself, and shoved on. I paid for my impatience, though, when I slammed into someone who'd been able to dodge around the woman using the same space I'd claimed. With a squeak, I went down. I hate when I squeak, and the fall made my ass hurt. I groaned, righting myself, and rubbing my ass as I cast around for my purse.

"Are you harmed, miss?" The voice was a low, rich baritone with just a touch of roughness. A hand descended into my view and I took it. His skin was warm to the touch. Feral, then. We ran hot, so others normally felt cool. I could feel the panther inside of me, already stirred to life, curl its tail and perk to attention. There was nothing like touching another Feral, I realized. I'd never done it before.

My eyes raised to my helper's face and I forgot his question was hanging in the air between us. He had black hair, hued a deep blue like a raven's wing, pulled back into a neat braid. Strands of it had escaped, framed his face, and I had the sudden desire to brush them out of the way. He was tall and slim, but I could sense the power of that body under his neatly pressed and rather expensive looking suit. It was his eyes that caught me, captivated me. They were liquid gold, intense and wild. No one could look into that molten gaze and mistake him for a Normia, no matter how mundanely he dressed. My hand was still in his and the rough pad of his thumb skimmed the side of my hand. The panther purred; I snatched my hand away, suddenly keenly aware of the cool breeze on my skin, the thud of my heart.

Good lord, was I getting aroused over a helping hand, now?

"Fine, thanks," I replied, borderline rude. I'd never had my beast respond to someone so.. enthusiastically, and it unsettled me. He smiled and it was all I could do to keep from losing my tenebrous hold on that feline side of me.

"New to Babylon?" His voice washed over me, his scent teasing my nostrils. Usually I didn't notice anything that a normal human wouldn't; years of self-denial worked wonders. Don't ever let anyone tell you you can't convince yourself of something. Dellusion is a powerful thing, especially when turned inwards. But the cat inside of me was close ot the surface and I couldn't pretend. His scent was rich, masculine, clean but with a musky undertone. I should have beena ble to tell what his beast was, but I wasn't a good Feral. I had no clue, except that the panther liked it.

"Yeah," I said, shifting my purse onto my shoulder, a nervous habit. Saying that I don't like not being in control is an understatement. A huge understatement. Embracing your primal side is all about surrending the control that we humans so desperately fight for. That, understandably, wasn't something that sat well with me.

"Here, you dropped something," he said, stooping and retreiving the item before I'd gotten that stupid cat to shut up and let me concentrate. Dumbly, I looked down as he handed me my list of apartments -- rather, the paper filled with crossed out apartment listings. One of his eyebrows arched and the cat presented me with an image of nibbling along that fine eyebrow, my hands sliding down his -- woah girl. I struggled to shove it to the back of my mind. "Looking for an apartment, I see. Good luck. There's a serious housing shortage all over the city."

"You're telling me," I muttered, then sighed. He was regarding me with those liquid gold orbs of his again and I felt the heat of them weakening my knees -- and my hold on the beast. Without taking his eyes off of me, he reached into his breastpocket, then held out a small white business card to me. I took it, careful not to touch him agian. I had a feeling it'd undo me completely.

"Dr. Kevin Green," I read off. Handsome, charming, and a doctor? Wasn't he too good to be true.

"That's me," he chuckled. The sound rolled through my senses and I had to remind myself to breathe, to focus on what he was saying and not what the cat was imaging, raking my teeth over that delicious curve of his neck, runnign my fingers down those strong arms and feeling silk carress skin, exploring each curve, each dip of his muscles...

I blinked and realized I'd completely missed what he said. "I'm sorry, what?" He was looking at me with merriment in that smouldering gaze as if he was quite aware of where my thoughts had been.

"I said, if you ever need a place to crash or any help, feel free to call me, miss...?"

"Dani," I supplied. "Danielle. Veras." I mentally smacked myself for acting like a nervous sixth-grader.

He took my hand and the touch of his warm skin was electric, sending a thrill racing through me. I'm sure the emerald gaze of the panther was showing through my eyes; I was barely holding it back. I watched as he raised my hand to his lips, riveted, my hand limp in his grasp. His breath carressed my skin and I gasped. I might have even moaned. I'm not sure. All I know was that a fire was raging through me, and the brush of his lips along my knuckles was like throwing gasoline on it.

"A pleasure," he murmured, a low purr in his voice. Feline, he had to be. He was grinning like the cat who'd gotten the cream. It would explain why my beast wanted to ball my hands up in that over-priced silk, pin him up against the wall, and --

Oh god. Living in New Babylon was already starting to take its toll on my mental health.

He excused himself. I think I stammered out a suitable goodbye. I couldn't tear myself away from his captivating eyes. Finally he inclined his head to me politely and turned, melding into the crowd.

Long after he disappeared from my sight, I stayed rooted to the spot, a sudden longing I'd never felt before washing through me. It wasn't even just the hint of lust I'd seen in his eyes -- it was teh feral wildness in those depths, the primal pull of a kindred spirit, the whispered promise of acceptance and belonging.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself. Staying human in the city of Freaks was going to be hard.