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Bosco’s torso curled as the alarm clock squawked its morning herald, something akin to a farmhand-raped rooster. Clenching his fists, he stuffed his pillow against his head. In a desperate attempt to reenter REM, he began bludgeoning himself with the cushion. The violent self-battering only intensified his headache. His hand snaked out and began slamming the boisterous waking-device. After the fifth slam, he managed to hit something to silence the plastic, eldritch beast of sleep deprivation.
He was sighing in relief when his cell phone began vibrating with that same grating sonance. He threw off the pillow, rolled himself to his nightstand, and death-gripped the cell phone. He brought it to his face and considered shattering the noisy little shit of an Android in his hand. No. He had two alarms for a reason.
Today was important. He had to be at The Deafener’s headquarters, and he wasn’t looking forward it.
“One day,” he said, his arm trembling as he fought the urge to detonate the obnoxious device within his fist. “One day, I will choke-fuck the warranty out of you.” He lifted his arm over the nightstand and let the phone clatter. Groaning, he rose from his bed and buried his head in his hands. Something in the back of his head told him that he would have to be aware of some things.

1) Mouthing off to his superiors would involve his balls getting crushed.

2) Mouthing off to his trainer would get his balls blasted faster than amphetamine Ron Jeremy pumping Sasha Grey with a plutonium condom.

3) Getting ball-blasted hurts.

He held on to these acknowledgements as he rose from his bed. He stretched, the image and sound giving the impression of being crucified on a week of hangovers and caffeine pills. He slumped and muttered a few curses as he stumbled his way past his dirty clothes to his living room, and then to his kitchen, and with a drooping posture, opened his fridge and eyed his breakfast options.
He was a little surprised with himself. He didn’t remember cooking, yet there was a cold T-bone steak on a Styrofoam plate that demanded to be threshed via violent ingestion. He snatched the steak and began tearing into it, shutting the fridge as he consumed his breakfast. His fangs were deep within the prime cut when he heard his phone bitching from the other room. A growl rumbled from him as he strode to his room, the meat dangling from his mouth. With his mouth half-full, he accepted the call.
“WHAT?” He hadn’t seen who had called him. He didn’t even recognize the number.
A thick, southern accent drawled through the speaker. “Howdy, Bosco.”
Bosco extended his arm and glared at the phone, the steak still dangling. He narrowed his eyes at it as he chewed, finally separated the dead carcass from his jaws. He put his ear back to the receiver. “Who the fuck are you, and why do you sound like a failed audition for The Devil’s Rejects?”
“Mm,” the voice said, relishing the hostility. “I’d expect no less. I’m gonna make this nice and concise, and no, this ain’t no damn survey.”
Bosco’s nostrils flared. “I don’t what YouTube prank-shit you’re trying to pull, but my head is already gaping from the amount of mind-fuck I’ve received as of late, so expedite your bullshit at once.”
“Such detail,” the voice approved. “Cerebral fornication aside, let’s just say I know a bit about you, you know, you being a Deafener and all.”
Bosco went on the defensive, though he couldn’t restrain the small thread of fear. He hadn’t considered the threats of his newly found position. “MOTHERFUCKER, IS THIS A THREAT?”
“Funny you say that . . .” The voice chuckled. “I’m just calling to tell you to keep an open mind regarding your chosen profession. Just consider the possibilities.”
Bosco sneered at his phone. “Possibilities? From a redneck who sounds like he’s literally and metaphorically choking a chicken?”
“. . . Funny you say that . . .”
Bosco blinked at his phone. “What?”
“Never you mind. Let’s just say you’re entering into something that — I am certain — was beyond the previous scope of your comprehension. There’s a lot of opportunities for unique citizens like us.”
Again, Bosco blinked. “What-the-what-fuck?”
“I’ll elaborate a little bit: I think you ought to get real close to your inclinations regarding your chosen profession. I assure you, there will be other options in the future if The Deafeners ain’t ticklin’ your fancy.”
Bosco blew out a breath. He was annoyed, confused, and hungover at this point. “Fatal error. Beginning dump of mental fucks. Please restart the system.” He ended the call and exhaled deeply. He wondered if he should tell Cid about this. The Kurt Cobain clone would probably have an explanation.
He finished the rest of his steak and sighed, wishing a beer could accompany it. Shaking his head and entering the living room, he gathered his keys and wallet off the side table and exited his front door. Locking it, he turned around to see Johnny in all his flabby contempt. He was a little confounded at first: the boy knew his prior schedule, and he was trying to remember when he had informed the corpulent little shit of his new schedule. His booze wisdom had served him well in this regard.
Bosco stared down at the boy with utmost boredom. “What is it?”
The boy wasn’t fazed. “I need my chocolate fix, fur fag.”
“Look, blubber-cunt, this isn’t the internet. I can literally maul your father to death and fuck your mother at the same time.” Again, Bosco had to be impressed with the boy’s unwavering stance.
Johnny said, “Cut the fuck. You know what I want.”
Nodding, Bosco raised an eyebrow. He approved of the boy’s assertiveness. He walked past him and beckoned him as he made his way to his Monte Carlo. He got inside, opened the door, searched his glove compartment, and handed the boy a chocolate bar. “Just take it. I can’t drink for the kind of shit I’m in.”
The boy gave him an incredulous frown. “That’s a bull full of Imodium.”
“I’m serious!” Bosco insisted. “Trust me, kid, you don’t want to get in on what I’m dealing with.”
The boy ripped open the candy bar and munched furiously. He said with a mouth full of chocolate, “I pwn noobs with your mother’s dick.”
Bosco wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. “What the fuck are you even speaking?”
“GOML.”
“The hell’s that supposed to be? A fellating turkey?”
“Get on my level!”
Bosco decided to default to his standard insult protocol. “Said my schlong to your mother’s rectum. Toodles, bitch-tits.” He slammed the car door shut, the boy giving him the middle finger as he pulled out of the driveway. He had to admit: he appreciated the boy’s assholism, strange as it was to him.
Returning his thoughts to the phone call, he couldn’t help but be somewhat haunted by the words ‘Funny you say that’. He wasn’t sure what the voice had been referring to, but the lewdness of it couldn’t have been ignored. It was bad enough that he was almost certain the caller had to have been an Echo. He would definitely be having a word with Cid about it.
The traffic hadn’t bothered him as much on the way there, perturbed as he was with the unknown caller. He pulled into the McDonald’s and parked his car. Krill was waiting there in his truck, casually sipping some coffee while munching on an Egg McMuffin. Bosco exited the vehicle, marched up to his truck, and slammed his fist against the window. “Hey!” he shouted, “let’s go already.”
Nonchalantly, Krill sipped his coffee and continued to ignore Bosco. Bosco decided to assert himself by delivering a front thrust kick to the driver door, the vehicle rocking on its wheels. Glowering, Krill turned his head to Bosco and opened the driver door. With his coffee and sandwich still in hand, he nudged his door closed and head-butted the ornery tiger.
Bosco clenched his muzzle and growled. “Alright, alright, I know, I broke the rule: don’t involve the ladies in this.”
“Precisely,” Krill said. He took another bite of his sandwich. “Betty doesn’t like to be kicked. Betty likes to be revved.” He looked back at his truck with an enamored gaze before turning to Bosco. “Why are you in a rush this morning?”
Bosco was still cradling his nose. “Got a call this morning. Pretty sure it was an Echo. Went on about ‘other opportunities’ if the The Deafeners ‘ain’t ticklin’ my fancy’.”
Krill arched an eyebrow. “Seriously? He talked like that?”
“Yeah, and I find it a tad bit fucky that those three in our bar were more or less looking for Raziela and Samael for the same thing.”
Krill shifted on his feet, his brow creasing. “That is weird. Think we should talk to Cid about it?”
“I don’t see another recourse,” Bosco said, wiping the blood off his nose as he made his way to the intersection with Krill behind him. “Besides Audalon, and I’d rather keep a healthy distance from him for now.”
“He’s not that bad,” Krill said as he and Bosco waltzed into the crawling traffic, ignoring the blaring honks and shouts. “Terrifying, but he seems nice.”
Annoyed, Bosco glanced at him. “Key word: terrifying. He could have turned us into a hillbilly’s Crock-pot recipe in a blink. He did that to prove a point.”
“I guess,” Krill said as they reached The Deafener’s building. They stopped in front of it, observed the innumerable eyes that stared out at the city. “You feel that?”
Bosco thinned his eyes and bristled. “Yeah. Not as strong as James Burke Lamprey or Cunty the Cat-jackal, but it’s there.”
“Yeah,” Krill said distantly. He finished his coffee and sandwich, tossed the trash into a nearby waste bin, and entered the building with Bosco. Walking inside, the two scanned for familiar faces. Only Kurai was at the desk, rattling away on her keyboard. Bosco had a hard time believing that this dainty little thing had popped him with 1.21 gigawatts of potential neutering. He had stopped asking himself if he was fertile at this point.
They approached her, the tiger placing his palms on the desk. “Alright,” he said, choosing his words with a wisdom that only a potential Eunuch would have. “Concave chest jokes aside, I’m going to be really nice to you and ask in a really nice way if Cid is here.”
Blinking, she stopped her typing and looked up at Bosco with a volatile expression. Bosco tread carefully. “So if you could — please — resist the urge to flatline my heart via my groin and get Cid here, that would just lollipop my man-cunt, of which you nearly created.”
She still wasn’t answering him. Bosco groaned and asked, “Why are you ignoring me?”
Kurai angled her head up at Krill and asked, “Would you like me to call Cid?”
Krill pocketed his hands. “Yes, receptionist lady mam.”
“Sure!” she chirped. She gave Bosco a quick scowl before picking up her phone and dialing Cid’s extension. “Hi, Cid? Krill and some talking rug that smells vaguely of skunked beer and aged sirloin are here. Mm hm? B5? Oh, starting it already? Sounds exciting! Don’t be too rough on the . . .” She gave Bosco another scowl. “Pussy.”
Bosco was opening his mouth to unleash a torrent of invective when Kurai spread her hand, the webbing between the fingers crackling with azure electricity. Krill smacked his hand over Bosco’s muzzle. “Thank you, receptionist lady.
Kurai squinted her eyes up at him in a smile. Returning to the phone call, she said, “Sure! I’ll send them on their way.” Hanging up the phone and clasping her hands, she said to them, “Simple instructions: go to the elevator and hit B5.”
Krill reeled his head back. “You have that many basements?”
“Training purposes,” Kurai said, examining her claws. A spark manifested and danced between her digits. She twiddled her fingers up at Krill. “You two get going. Cid’s waiting for you.”
“Okay,” Krill said. “Thanks again.”
“Mm hm!” Her pleasant expression soured as she looked at Bosco, her fist clenching in a brief, blue flash. Bosco broke eye contact with the receptionist and hurried to the elevator, his tail curling as he rapidly hit the button.
Krill sided next to him and whispered, “That wasn’t really nice.”
“Well, I tried!” Bosco rasped. He glanced back at Kurai. She was still scowling at him. Bosco winced and accelerated his button-pressing. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, DING, YOU VICIOUS BASTARD!”
The elevator door dinged, its doors sliding open. Grasping his tail, Bosco entered the elevator and placed his back against the wall. He did not trust the elevator. It was Krill who had to hit the B5 button, his tail barely swishing out of harm’s way as the doors closed. Bosco’s jaw dropped. “Oh! But it didn’t take a bite out of your extended ass, now did it?”
Krill sneered down at him. “What are you even talking about?”
Bosco gathered his sanity. “I’ve been getting a bit paranoid as of late.”
“I noticed,” Krill said as they waited to reach their floor, the elevator giving an affirmative ding for each floor it reached as they descended.
Bosco’s eye twitched with the dings. “God that’s ominous.”
Krill raised his brow at the tiger, who was still clutching his tail. “I think you need to calm down a little. Are you alright?”
“No. I need a beer and a non-conductive hooker. With well-trimmed nails.” He rolled his head back and blew out a breath.
Krill said, “You know, if you’d stop being such an asshole all the time—”
“KRILL! THAT’S LIKE ASKING ME TO STOP BREATHING AND TAKE OFF THE BEER HELMET WHILE WATCHING VANESSA BLUE!”
Krill cocked his head at Bosco. “The porn actress?”
“IT’S AN ART FORM!” Bosco huffed and said, “Dick brushes and pussy palettes.”
The elevator gave a final ding, its doors sliding open. Bosco yelped and hunched. After a moment of hesitation, he scrambled out of the elevator and into something that resembled the crossbreed of an asylum and a warehouse, the great room lined with padded, white columns, the lamination of the gray cement floors agleam beneath the hanging, industrial-strength lamps above them. Cid was leaning against the nearest column, his arms crossed. He raised his head up at the two as they entered. “Glad you could make it. So, what do you think of the place?”
Approaching Cid, Bosco and Krill took in the expansive, austere space. Bosco asked, “How did you manage to get this built without city ordinance shitting legal hellfire on you?”
Cid bobbed his head to the side as he considered the question. “Let’s just say this place is older than it looks, but we’ve done remodeling over the years as fit. Especially this area. Man, let me tell you: you can’t understand the importance of steel-reinforced concrete when you’re dealing with certain Echoes.”
Krill looked over at one of the columns. “And the padding?”
“Oh,” Cid said, putting his fingers to his chin, “turns out not everyone can handle being thrown at that kind of velocity.”
Bosco’s and Krill’s eyes bulged. They said, “Velocity?”
“Yeah,” Cid said, recalling the incident. “Not every Echo has a solid constitution, but you never know who you’re going to be fighting. Had some messy accidents when Razzy or Sammy got excited.”
Bosco said, “You can stop now.”
Cid was still reflecting. “Padding should cut down on the building and medical costs though.”
“Seriously, stop,” Bosco said. “I’ve already been used as a goddamn pinball as it is. Anyway . . .” He pinched his brow as he pondered how he would word the morning incident. “Something I need to tell you: I got a phone call this morning.”
Cid pursed his lips. “Alright. And?”
“Well, to sum it, I’m pretty sure I got a proposition from another Echo.”
Cid stilled at that, his eyes narrowing. “And this is the first time it happened?”
“Yeah. He sounded southern. More of a drawl though. Pervy for that matter, too.”
Cid turned his head from them, the crease of his brow deepening. “Huh. Anything else you can tell me?”
Bosco looked to Krill and shrugged. Krill said, “Yesterday we had two Echoes and a woman come into the bar. They said they were looking for Raziela and Samael for the same thing.”
Cid thinned his lips and nodded. He ambled past them, his arms crossing, his voice echoing throughout the training the facility. “And, uh . . .” He turned back to them. “Did they say who they were affiliated with?”
“No,” Krill said. “They didn’t say anything about that.”
Bosco added, “Pervy hick didn’t say anything about that either. You didn’t say anything about us getting propositioned.”
“Well,” Cid said with a half-shrug, “I can understand Razzy and Sammy, but you two are still learning.”
Krill asked, “What’s that have to do with anything?”
“It means," Cid emphasized. He stalled at that. “Well, damn, could mean a few things.”
“Like what?”
Cid exhaled slowly as he considered the possibilities. “Razzy and Sammy are around a Class 2. They’re rare in their own right. They’re also here against their will. Think of it as community service. There are lot of organizations — lesser ones — that would want them on their side. Some, however, will take whatever they can get.” He scratched his chin and asked, “Did you notice anything peculiar about those three that entered the bar?”
Bosco snorted at the word ‘peculiar’. “Well, one of them looked like a porn actress from Alpha Centari. The human woman looked like she was in charge though.” He muttered something about “Knocking the bottom out of that.” He cleared his throat and continued. “The other was this Anubis-cat-looking motherfucker that—”
“Wielded a black flame?”
Surprised, Bosco said. “Yeah. How would you know?”
“That’s Kuruthan,” Cid said, his voice more solemn. “And you don’t want anything to do with them.”
Bosco held out a splayed hand, "Them, meaning . . .”
“They’re called The Vorpal Advocacy.”
Bosco scowled at Cid. He was not in the mood for multi-syllabic titles. “Begin explanation without the use of Webster.”
Cid held his hand out and nodded his head. “To sum it up: they use Echoes for more unsavory purposes.”
Bosco spread his arms. “Like?”
“Assassination.” Cid considered the word in his head before agreeing upon it. “Among other things. Their talents aren’t used in the best of ways. We’re a bit more focused on keeping the peace. Better image. Better society. Seeing Echoes do some good helps us all out. I don’t think I need to elaborate on how some of us stick out like a three-legged tapir rutting with a platypus”
Bosco said, “Where do you even get these?”
“Not sure myself,” Cid admitted. “Anyway, I need to emphasize how lucky you two are. This is a good place to be, unless you piss off the help. I can tell you from firsthand experience that Audalon isn’t going to let anything happen to you, unless you screw up, of course.”
Bosco could believe that. Bizarre and unnerving as the man was, he otherwise carried an amiable, if not assholish aura about him, despite the feigned murder attempt. “Alright,” he said, “so do The Deafeners have a thing against The Vorpal Advocacy?”
“You could say that,” Cid said as he began pacing, “what with the aforementioned unsavory ideals. The best thing y’all can do is ignore the propositions. Trust me: you’re in better hands here.”
Bosco scoffed at that. “You lost your sale on the ‘better hands’ aspect.”
Cid thinned his lips and bobbed his eyebrows. “Point put. Anyway,” he said with a sigh, “guess I ought to start explaining a few ground rules here. One: you don’t mouth off to your superiors. I’m thinking you know that by now.”
Bosco couldn’t help but glance at his abused genitalia. “And?”
“You don’t harm humans.”
Even Krill couldn’t agree with that. “But we’re bouncers, and most of our patrons are humans. And a lot of them are assholes. Like Bosco.”
Bosco took offense to that. “My assholism is unprecedented. Don’t compare me with such peasants.”
Krill frowned wryly at Bosco. He said to Cid, “I don’t get that. What if we see a lady, like, being molested by a grandpa gang? Can we at least restrain them?”
Cid approved of the point with a slow nod. “Keywords: do not harm. Despite being a Class 5, you both can easily restrain any human. But I need to stress the importance of not harming them. The Deafeners we’re established not just as a check and balance, but to give a better image of us. In some ways we’re just as varied humans, and people need to know that, despite our appearance.”
Bosco frowned wryly and crossed his arms. “Easy for you to say: you look like the fuckboy dream-bang of every female millennial.”
“True,” Cid said, not at all disapproving of the observation. “This is more a matter of unification. We’ve been put in a strange place: it’s not always easy to divide us by color and species, especially since some look human. Congress is still shitting its britches on the what-for and what-not with how to deal with us.”
Bosco pointed out, “One of those are British terms.”
“I’m cultured!” Cid snapped. “I was raised in Georgia, alright? It ain’t easy coming back from that.” Flustered, he ran his hand through his hair and continued. “Anyway, I think it’s about time that we started exploring your potential.” He cleared his throat and continued. “So, what have you all noticed about yourselves, despite the obvious?”
Bosco and Krill had a moment of derp. Bosco said, “Uh . . . besides being Rakshasas and able to dead lift a Mazda? No personal experience insinuated.” He was certain that Mandi hadn’t appreciated the abrupt breakup gesture.
“Alright,” Cid said. “Have y’all noticed anything subtler?”
Bosco thought further on that. “Well, Krill and I tend to beat the shit out of each other. A lot.” His brow furrowed as he realized something. “I don’t remember needing first aid after the fact, even after you and Kurai tried to neuter me with your Tesla hands.”
Krill mentioned, “And Samael’s claws.”
Bosco shuddered at the memory. “I pity the man who pressures her into date rape.”
Cid held his hands to the sides and grinned. “See? That’s what I’m looking for. You’re both pretty stalwart for a Class 5. Offensively, y’all kinda suck.”
Bosco bared his fangs. “We suck? And you want to test that?”
“Actually,” Cid said, “that’s precisely what I intend to do.” He ambled around them for a moment, his arms crossing behind his back.” He stopped, his head tilting back. “I’m going to attack you with my essence.”
Nervously, Bosco asked, “Essence?”
“You’ll figure it out,” Cid said, his arms dropping. It happened within a blink. He leaped, his arm rearing back, his fist alight with a furious blue energy that wisped and crackled like lightning and fire.
Bosco widened his stance and brought his arm up as the incoming blow struck him. He grunted, the impact staggering him, the sensation of a thousand stings pervading his flesh and muscle. “Jesus,” the tiger said, “were you holding back on that?”
“A lot,” Cid replied, the wispy essence from his arm fading as he pocketed his hands. He lowered his head as he observed Bosco’s stance. “Interesting.”
Bosco asked, “What?”
“That stance you took. Have you had any previous training?”
Bosco shook his head. “No. Why?”
“Because by the looks of it, you have some martial capability built into you.” Scratching his chin, he circled around Bosco. “Good alignment: shoulder-width, slight bend in the knees. Good start. Your instincts are already above par. But . . .” He halted and canted his head. “I think you all can do better.”
Krill stepped forward. “How?”
“Well,” Cid said, “your abilities, believe it or not, seem to be geared more for a defensive line. If I had to speculate, I’d say your predecessors were Guardians.”
Bosco growled in frustration. “I could give the rat-assed wig of Donald Trump about the lore. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Cid stressed, “that you can make your passive abilities more active in terms of defense, make them manifest.” He read the confusion on their faces and explained. “Example: y’all heal fast, right?”
Krill said, “Yeah, but what do you mean by making them active?”
Cid said, “As Guardians, if I’m correct, you can hasten that, make the effect more immediate.”
“But how?” Krill asked. “I mean, we can’t do glowing power thingies like you do. I don’t think we’ve ever been able to do that.”
“Oh, we’ll get it out of you,” Cid assured. “Usually if it’s a latent power, it’s just a matter of inducing a stress response.”
Krill didn’t like the sound of that. “So it’s like what you did to Bosco just now?”
Cid raised his hands, his essence enveloping them. “You got the right idea.”
“Oh,” Krill said. “Crap.”
Cid barreled toward Krill and flurried him with blows, the reptile reeling back as he tried to guard. Half of the strikes went through, and one blow caught him directly in the gut and raised him off his feet. Krill hunched for a moment and clutched his stomach as he figured out how breathe again. “That sucked.”
Cid turned to Bosco. “Your turn!”
The tiger was not enthused. “No, no, no, NO, NO, NOT THE BALLS!” Cid did not deliver any strikes to Bosco’s groin. However, Bosco was equally displeased with the energized, hooking punch that sped across his jaw, the tiger whirling across the floor before the momentum caused him to perform an involuntary paraplegic breakdance before collapsing onto the floor.
Bosco’s eye twitched. “I am less stressed and more concerned about the lack of feeling in my legs.”
Cid walked over to him. “Let me fix that.”
Bosco yelped as Cid raised his foot over him. The tiger rolled from the stomp and got to his feet. Breathing heavily, he snarled, “Didn’t pad the floor now did you? Asshole.”
Cid shrugged and continued to approach Bosco. “Look! A miracle! You can walk again!”
“Well, yeah, but— JESUS ON JETSKIS!” A sphere of spinning energy within Cid’s palm displaced the air, the power at a dull roar.
Cid shouted over the noise. “Alright. I want you to attack me.”
“YOU ARE ALL MANNER OF FUCKED!”
“Look!” Cid assured, “nothing here will kill you! You gotta take the initiative!”
Bosco screamed, “NOT TYING THAT NOOSE!”
“Just dodge and counter!”
“JUST?”
“In five, four, three . . .”
Bosco couldn’t escape the feeling that approaching Cid was an idea wrought with future peril. However, he was under Devarious’ orders, and even he himself was curious to see if he could evoke the abilities that Cid had mentioned. Gritting his teeth, he charged forward and took his precious two seconds to devise a counter, probably involving the tried and true method of “punch him in the face before he does.”
Bosco’s timing was off. Cid thrust out his hand, the orb spinning toward him. The tiger’s eyes glowed before the radiance that was three inches from his face, his fur raising and crackling against the essence. The memory of his nether region’s anguish came to him, and he would be damned if he received a face full of whatever fuckery this ability was. Yet as he stepped off to the side, he found his instincts taking a strange turn: he raised his arm as if to shield himself, and instead of questioning himself, he placed his bets on his reflexes and hoped they had something better than “leave my arm a smoking mass of charred flesh.” As the orb approached, an energy manifested on Bosco’s forearm. It was brief: a faint, blue glow that resembled a misshapen aegis.
The orb screeched against the shield, the tiger skidding backward as it drove into him. He shifted his weight and batted the blast aside, the energy splashing upon the floor in a pool of coruscation before dissipating. He wasn’t sure what had happened, nor did he have the cognitive ability to figure it out. A sudden fatigue had taken him, and it was taking everything he had just to keep standing. After a few labored breaths, he asked, “What the hell just happened?”
Cid was smiling in approval. He shot a finger at Bosco and said, “What I thought would happen. Just had to pull it out with a bit of mortal peril, that’s all.”
Bosco clenched his teeth and staggered toward Cid. “No. Seriously. What. The hell. Was that?”
“One of your powers,” Cid said casually.
With widened eyes, Krill strode over to Bosco and got a better look at him. “You don’t know how you did that?”
Bosco’s fists trembled. “KRILL! ARE MY OBVIOUS INQUIRIES NOT INDICATIVE OF— ow, it hurts to scream.” He clenched his temples, a low growl coming from him. “Dear lord, everything aches.”
Cid sided next to Bosco. “It’s usually like that the first time. It takes a bit of pushing for it to manifest.”
Krill asked, “Does every Echo have to go through that in order to learn their abilities?”
“Only the lesser ones,” Cid said. Krill sulked a little at that. Cid said to him, “Look, don’t take it personally. Think of it as . . .” He tapped his chin as he tried to come up with a good comparison. “Digging.”
Bosco, with his hands still on his head, said, “Digging? Really? So you pretty much just used dynamite to get it out?”
“Exactly!” Cid said. “Higher Echoes don’t have to try as hard. Since they have more essence at their disposal, it doesn’t take as much effort to reach it. It’s almost spatial in that sense.”
Krill frowned a little. “You make it sound like it’s finite.”
“Mm,” Cid said, shaking his head. “Not really. You can drain it, but it’s kind of like catching your breath. It can come back, but like breathing, you have to know when to push and when to rest.”
“Huh,” Krill said, shuffling his feet. “So can you condition it?”
“Absolutely,” Cid said. “It’s even possible to jump classes, at least to our criteria.”
Bosco limped toward Cid, knitting his forehead as he tried to think through the daze. “Can you jump from a Class 5 to a Class 1?”
Cid frowned wryly and shrugged. “I’ve never heard of it.”
The idea invigorated Bosco. Drawing closer, he asked, “So you’re telling me it’s possible to go from a scrub to a demigod?”
“Well,” Cid said hesitantly, “considering there has been no recorded history of that ever happening, I’m going to go with no.”
Scowling, Bosco and Krill lowered their heads at Cid. Bosco sucked his teeth. “I fail to see how we’re going to be any kind of asset when man-munching lamprey grandpas we’ll always have the upper hand.”
A sly smile spread across Cid’s face. “When we talk about the class system, we’re referring to power overall. That doesn’t mean facets of your ability are restrained to a predetermined level. Example just now: you deflected my essence for the first time without any prior training. With practice, that may be an ability that most Echoes won’t be able to touch.”
Bosco was only slightly appeased by that. “‘With practice’, he says.” He grunted and chuckled a little. “So I guess that’s the lesson for today?”
“Mm,” Cid said, splaying both of his hands. Two azure orbs swirled into existence within his palms. “Nah.”

{{}}

By the time the elevator dinged to the ground floor, Bosco and Krill were staring at the tile. Thoughts of deep sleep went through the two, a dull ache throbbing through their minds and bodies.
Bosco slurred, “Krill?”
It took a moment for the reptile to respond. “Huh?”
“I think we need to start walking again.”
Krill mouthed, “Fuck,” as the two shuffled out of the elevator, their shoulders sagging.
They were limping by Kurai when she perked her head up from her monitor and twiddled her fingers at them. “Hello! I’m guessing that was a fruitful training session?” Incoherent mumbling and cursing came from the two as they made slow progress toward the exit. Kurai, eager to get Krill’s attention, primped her quills a bit and said, “Be sure to rest well, Krill! We’ll see you tomorrow at 10AM sharp, right?” More muttering came from the two. Kurai pouted and continued perusing a dating site. She peeked her head out to the side as she severely eyed Krill’s departure. She would get the big lizard’s attention, one way or the other.
Bosco and Krill managed to emerge into a fresh dusk, the traffic surprisingly sparse. Only a few pedestrians roamed the sidewalks, giving the two Echoes perturbed looks as Bosco and Krill shambled to the intersection. Uncaring of the honking vehicles coming to an abrupt halt, they made their way across to the parking lot of the fast food restaurant.
Groggily, Krill said, “I can’t believe I couldn’t do anything.”
Bosco had to shake the fog from his mind to realize what Krill was getting at. “No powers?”
“Yeah,” Krill said, trying not to mope. “You did yours pretty quick. If we’re both Class 5, then how come mine didn’t happen?”
“I don’t know,” Bosco said, slowing his shuffle. “It’s only the first day, and I’m pretty sure sadist Cobain will think of other ways to get it out of you.”
Krill became miffed at that. “That wasn’t reassuring.”
“Wasn’t supposed to be.”
“Asshole.”
“Says right on my birth certificate,” Bosco quipped. They continued on in silence for a moment.
Krill asked, “Wanna stop by The Dragon Lush?”
Bosco halted, his ceased momentum swaying him. “Krill,” Bosco said solemnly, “I am about to say something that is rarely spoken, and I want you to take heed.”
Krill arched an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“I am too goddamned tired and beaten to drink right now.”
Lethargically, Krill shook his head. “Lies.”
Bosco was opening his mouth to say something, but reconsidered. “Yeah, that was a bit heavy.”
“Mm hm,” Krill said, looking toward his truck. “You still want to go? Check up on Tommy?”
Bosco sputtered his lips as he slowly veered toward his Monte Carlo. “I trust the mutt not screw the pooch on this one. It can wait.”
Krill stopped and looked back at Bosco, his head canting. “Was that pun intentional?”
“No idea. Cognition failing. Going-the-fuck-home protocol initiated. See you tomorrow.”
“Later,” Krill said as the two made their way to their respective vehicles. It was a long trek for the them after the punishment Cid had dealt, and both of them nearly fell asleep in the driver seat. Krill was first to leave, as Bosco had just remembered his interlock system.
He was glaring at it with the intent of setting it on fire with his eyes. He wondered if that was a hidden ability of his. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the soreness and raised his arm, stared at it. He wasn’t sure what being a Guardian entailed. He presumed it was appropriate enough, what with his chosen profession. Still, he found his murky thoughts wandering toward questions that he had never dwelled upon: who were his predecessors? Had they been of a higher class? If so, how did he get the piss-end of the gene pool?
A low snarl came from him as he pulled his attention back to the interlock system. With a slow inhale that threatened to pop his abdominals out of place, he sneered at the plastic tube and brought it to his lips, grudgingly exhaled. The system beeped in approval, and Bosco tossed it on his passenger seat.
He started the ignition, and with a wariness induced by sledgehammer fatigue, pulled out of the parking lot and navigated the amber-lit city roads back to the outskirts toward his home. Pulling up to his house, he took his keys from the ignition and gritted his teeth as he prepared to move again. Even the act of opening his door was akin to having a guffawing Jolly Green Giant execute a Jiu-jitsu compendium on his arm.
Successfully leaving his vehicle, he nearly busted through his screen door, forgetting its existence. Growling, he opened it with a wince and jammed his house key into the lock. Opening his door, he nearly collapsed as he walked in. He nudged his back against the door and closed it, and with what meager energy he had, hurried to his bed and crumpled upon it. He was snoring within a minute, his battered tail twitching.

Description
Bosco’s torso curled as the alarm clock squawked its morning herald, something akin to a farmhand-raped rooster. Clenching his fists, he stuffed his pillow against his head. In a desperate attempt to reenter REM, he began bludgeoning himself with the cushion. The violent self-battering only intensified his headache. His hand snaked out and began slamming the boisterous waking-device. After the fifth slam, he managed to hit something to silence the plastic, eldritch beast of sleep deprivation.
He was sighing in relief when his cell phone began vibrating with that same grating sonance. He threw off the pillow, rolled himself to his nightstand, and death-gripped the cell phone. He brought it to his face and considered shattering the noisy little shit of an Android in his hand. No. He had two alarms for a reason.
Today was important. He had to be at The Deafener’s headquarters, and he wasn’t looking forward it.
“One day,” he said, his arm trembling as he fought the urge to detonate the obnoxious device within his fist. “One day, I will choke-fuck the warranty out of you.” He lifted his arm over the nightstand and let the phone clatter. Groaning, he rose from his bed and buried his head in his hands. Something in the back of his head told him that he would have to be aware of some things.

1) Mouthing off to his superiors would involve his balls getting crushed.

2) Mouthing off to his trainer would get his balls blasted faster than amphetamine Ron Jeremy pumping Sasha Grey with a plutonium condom.

3) Getting ball-blasted hurts.

He held on to these acknowledgements as he rose from his bed. He stretched, the image and sound giving the impression of being crucified on a week of hangovers and caffeine pills. He slumped and muttered a few curses as he stumbled his way past his dirty clothes to his living room, and then to his kitchen, and with a drooping posture, opened his fridge and eyed his breakfast options.
He was a little surprised with himself. He didn’t remember cooking, yet there was a cold T-bone steak on a Styrofoam plate that demanded to be threshed via violent ingestion. He snatched the steak and began tearing into it, shutting the fridge as he consumed his breakfast. His fangs were deep within the prime cut when he heard his phone bitching from the other room. A growl rumbled from him as he strode to his room, the meat dangling from his mouth. With his mouth half-full, he accepted the call.
“WHAT?” He hadn’t seen who had called him. He didn’t even recognize the number.
A thick, southern accent drawled through the speaker. “Howdy, Bosco.”
Bosco extended his arm and glared at the phone, the steak still dangling. He narrowed his eyes at it as he chewed, finally separated the dead carcass from his jaws. He put his ear back to the receiver. “Who the fuck are you, and why do you sound like a failed audition for The Devil’s Rejects?”
“Mm,” the voice said, relishing the hostility. “I’d expect no less. I’m gonna make this nice and concise, and no, this ain’t no damn survey.”
Bosco’s nostrils flared. “I don’t what YouTube prank-shit you’re trying to pull, but my head is already gaping from the amount of mind-fuck I’ve received as of late, so expedite your bullshit at once.”
“Such detail,” the voice approved. “Cerebral fornication aside, let’s just say I know a bit about you, you know, you being a Deafener and all.”
Bosco went on the defensive, though he couldn’t restrain the small thread of fear. He hadn’t considered the threats of his newly found position. “MOTHERFUCKER, IS THIS A THREAT?”
“Funny you say that . . .” The voice chuckled. “I’m just calling to tell you to keep an open mind regarding your chosen profession. Just consider the possibilities.”
Bosco sneered at his phone. “Possibilities? From a redneck who sounds like he’s literally and metaphorically choking a chicken?”
“. . . Funny you say that . . .”
Bosco blinked at his phone. “What?”
“Never you mind. Let’s just say you’re entering into something that — I am certain — was beyond the previous scope of your comprehension. There’s a lot of opportunities for unique citizens like us.”
Again, Bosco blinked. “What-the-what-fuck?”
“I’ll elaborate a little bit: I think you ought to get real close to your inclinations regarding your chosen profession. I assure you, there will be other options in the future if The Deafeners ain’t ticklin’ your fancy.”
Bosco blew out a breath. He was annoyed, confused, and hungover at this point. “Fatal error. Beginning dump of mental fucks. Please restart the system.” He ended the call and exhaled deeply. He wondered if he should tell Cid about this. The Kurt Cobain clone would probably have an explanation.
He finished the rest of his steak and sighed, wishing a beer could accompany it. Shaking his head and entering the living room, he gathered his keys and wallet off the side table and exited his front door. Locking it, he turned around to see Johnny in all his flabby contempt. He was a little confounded at first: the boy knew his prior schedule, and he was trying to remember when he had informed the corpulent little shit of his new schedule. His booze wisdom had served him well in this regard.
Bosco stared down at the boy with utmost boredom. “What is it?”
The boy wasn’t fazed. “I need my chocolate fix, fur fag.”
“Look, blubber-cunt, this isn’t the internet. I can literally maul your father to death and fuck your mother at the same time.” Again, Bosco had to be impressed with the boy’s unwavering stance.
Johnny said, “Cut the fuck. You know what I want.”
Nodding, Bosco raised an eyebrow. He approved of the boy’s assertiveness. He walked past him and beckoned him as he made his way to his Monte Carlo. He got inside, opened the door, searched his glove compartment, and handed the boy a chocolate bar. “Just take it. I can’t drink for the kind of shit I’m in.”
The boy gave him an incredulous frown. “That’s a bull full of Imodium.”
“I’m serious!” Bosco insisted. “Trust me, kid, you don’t want to get in on what I’m dealing with.”
The boy ripped open the candy bar and munched furiously. He said with a mouth full of chocolate, “I pwn noobs with your mother’s dick.”
Bosco wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. “What the fuck are you even speaking?”
“GOML.”
“The hell’s that supposed to be? A fellating turkey?”
“Get on my level!”
Bosco decided to default to his standard insult protocol. “Said my schlong to your mother’s rectum. Toodles, bitch-tits.” He slammed the car door shut, the boy giving him the middle finger as he pulled out of the driveway. He had to admit: he appreciated the boy’s assholism, strange as it was to him.
Returning his thoughts to the phone call, he couldn’t help but be somewhat haunted by the words ‘Funny you say that’. He wasn’t sure what the voice had been referring to, but the lewdness of it couldn’t have been ignored. It was bad enough that he was almost certain the caller had to have been an Echo. He would definitely be having a word with Cid about it.
The traffic hadn’t bothered him as much on the way there, perturbed as he was with the unknown caller. He pulled into the McDonald’s and parked his car. Krill was waiting there in his truck, casually sipping some coffee while munching on an Egg McMuffin. Bosco exited the vehicle, marched up to his truck, and slammed his fist against the window. “Hey!” he shouted, “let’s go already.”
Nonchalantly, Krill sipped his coffee and continued to ignore Bosco. Bosco decided to assert himself by delivering a front thrust kick to the driver door, the vehicle rocking on its wheels. Glowering, Krill turned his head to Bosco and opened the driver door. With his coffee and sandwich still in hand, he nudged his door closed and head-butted the ornery tiger.
Bosco clenched his muzzle and growled. “Alright, alright, I know, I broke the rule: don’t involve the ladies in this.”
“Precisely,” Krill said. He took another bite of his sandwich. “Betty doesn’t like to be kicked. Betty likes to be revved.” He looked back at his truck with an enamored gaze before turning to Bosco. “Why are you in a rush this morning?”
Bosco was still cradling his nose. “Got a call this morning. Pretty sure it was an Echo. Went on about ‘other opportunities’ if the The Deafeners ‘ain’t ticklin’ my fancy’.”
Krill arched an eyebrow. “Seriously? He talked like that?”
“Yeah, and I find it a tad bit fucky that those three in our bar were more or less looking for Raziela and Samael for the same thing.”
Krill shifted on his feet, his brow creasing. “That is weird. Think we should talk to Cid about it?”
“I don’t see another recourse,” Bosco said, wiping the blood off his nose as he made his way to the intersection with Krill behind him. “Besides Audalon, and I’d rather keep a healthy distance from him for now.”
“He’s not that bad,” Krill said as he and Bosco waltzed into the crawling traffic, ignoring the blaring honks and shouts. “Terrifying, but he seems nice.”
Annoyed, Bosco glanced at him. “Key word: terrifying. He could have turned us into a hillbilly’s Crock-pot recipe in a blink. He did that to prove a point.”
“I guess,” Krill said as they reached The Deafener’s building. They stopped in front of it, observed the innumerable eyes that stared out at the city. “You feel that?”
Bosco thinned his eyes and bristled. “Yeah. Not as strong as James Burke Lamprey or Cunty the Cat-jackal, but it’s there.”
“Yeah,” Krill said distantly. He finished his coffee and sandwich, tossed the trash into a nearby waste bin, and entered the building with Bosco. Walking inside, the two scanned for familiar faces. Only Kurai was at the desk, rattling away on her keyboard. Bosco had a hard time believing that this dainty little thing had popped him with 1.21 gigawatts of potential neutering. He had stopped asking himself if he was fertile at this point.
They approached her, the tiger placing his palms on the desk. “Alright,” he said, choosing his words with a wisdom that only a potential Eunuch would have. “Concave chest jokes aside, I’m going to be really nice to you and ask in a really nice way if Cid is here.”
Blinking, she stopped her typing and looked up at Bosco with a volatile expression. Bosco tread carefully. “So if you could — please — resist the urge to flatline my heart via my groin and get Cid here, that would just lollipop my man-cunt, of which you nearly created.”
She still wasn’t answering him. Bosco groaned and asked, “Why are you ignoring me?”
Kurai angled her head up at Krill and asked, “Would you like me to call Cid?”
Krill pocketed his hands. “Yes, receptionist lady mam.”
“Sure!” she chirped. She gave Bosco a quick scowl before picking up her phone and dialing Cid’s extension. “Hi, Cid? Krill and some talking rug that smells vaguely of skunked beer and aged sirloin are here. Mm hm? B5? Oh, starting it already? Sounds exciting! Don’t be too rough on the . . .” She gave Bosco another scowl. “Pussy.”
Bosco was opening his mouth to unleash a torrent of invective when Kurai spread her hand, the webbing between the fingers crackling with azure electricity. Krill smacked his hand over Bosco’s muzzle. “Thank you, receptionist lady.
Kurai squinted her eyes up at him in a smile. Returning to the phone call, she said, “Sure! I’ll send them on their way.” Hanging up the phone and clasping her hands, she said to them, “Simple instructions: go to the elevator and hit B5.”
Krill reeled his head back. “You have that many basements?”
“Training purposes,” Kurai said, examining her claws. A spark manifested and danced between her digits. She twiddled her fingers up at Krill. “You two get going. Cid’s waiting for you.”
“Okay,” Krill said. “Thanks again.”
“Mm hm!” Her pleasant expression soured as she looked at Bosco, her fist clenching in a brief, blue flash. Bosco broke eye contact with the receptionist and hurried to the elevator, his tail curling as he rapidly hit the button.
Krill sided next to him and whispered, “That wasn’t really nice.”
“Well, I tried!” Bosco rasped. He glanced back at Kurai. She was still scowling at him. Bosco winced and accelerated his button-pressing. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, DING, YOU VICIOUS BASTARD!”
The elevator door dinged, its doors sliding open. Grasping his tail, Bosco entered the elevator and placed his back against the wall. He did not trust the elevator. It was Krill who had to hit the B5 button, his tail barely swishing out of harm’s way as the doors closed. Bosco’s jaw dropped. “Oh! But it didn’t take a bite out of your extended ass, now did it?”
Krill sneered down at him. “What are you even talking about?”
Bosco gathered his sanity. “I’ve been getting a bit paranoid as of late.”
“I noticed,” Krill said as they waited to reach their floor, the elevator giving an affirmative ding for each floor it reached as they descended.
Bosco’s eye twitched with the dings. “God that’s ominous.”
Krill raised his brow at the tiger, who was still clutching his tail. “I think you need to calm down a little. Are you alright?”
“No. I need a beer and a non-conductive hooker. With well-trimmed nails.” He rolled his head back and blew out a breath.
Krill said, “You know, if you’d stop being such an asshole all the time—”
“KRILL! THAT’S LIKE ASKING ME TO STOP BREATHING AND TAKE OFF THE BEER HELMET WHILE WATCHING VANESSA BLUE!”
Krill cocked his head at Bosco. “The porn actress?”
“IT’S AN ART FORM!” Bosco huffed and said, “Dick brushes and pussy palettes.”
The elevator gave a final ding, its doors sliding open. Bosco yelped and hunched. After a moment of hesitation, he scrambled out of the elevator and into something that resembled the crossbreed of an asylum and a warehouse, the great room lined with padded, white columns, the lamination of the gray cement floors agleam beneath the hanging, industrial-strength lamps above them. Cid was leaning against the nearest column, his arms crossed. He raised his head up at the two as they entered. “Glad you could make it. So, what do you think of the place?”
Approaching Cid, Bosco and Krill took in the expansive, austere space. Bosco asked, “How did you manage to get this built without city ordinance shitting legal hellfire on you?”
Cid bobbed his head to the side as he considered the question. “Let’s just say this place is older than it looks, but we’ve done remodeling over the years as fit. Especially this area. Man, let me tell you: you can’t understand the importance of steel-reinforced concrete when you’re dealing with certain Echoes.”
Krill looked over at one of the columns. “And the padding?”
“Oh,” Cid said, putting his fingers to his chin, “turns out not everyone can handle being thrown at that kind of velocity.”
Bosco’s and Krill’s eyes bulged. They said, “Velocity?”
“Yeah,” Cid said, recalling the incident. “Not every Echo has a solid constitution, but you never know who you’re going to be fighting. Had some messy accidents when Razzy or Sammy got excited.”
Bosco said, “You can stop now.”
Cid was still reflecting. “Padding should cut down on the building and medical costs though.”
“Seriously, stop,” Bosco said. “I’ve already been used as a goddamn pinball as it is. Anyway . . .” He pinched his brow as he pondered how he would word the morning incident. “Something I need to tell you: I got a phone call this morning.”
Cid pursed his lips. “Alright. And?”
“Well, to sum it, I’m pretty sure I got a proposition from another Echo.”
Cid stilled at that, his eyes narrowing. “And this is the first time it happened?”
“Yeah. He sounded southern. More of a drawl though. Pervy for that matter, too.”
Cid turned his head from them, the crease of his brow deepening. “Huh. Anything else you can tell me?”
Bosco looked to Krill and shrugged. Krill said, “Yesterday we had two Echoes and a woman come into the bar. They said they were looking for Raziela and Samael for the same thing.”
Cid thinned his lips and nodded. He ambled past them, his arms crossing, his voice echoing throughout the training the facility. “And, uh . . .” He turned back to them. “Did they say who they were affiliated with?”
“No,” Krill said. “They didn’t say anything about that.”
Bosco added, “Pervy hick didn’t say anything about that either. You didn’t say anything about us getting propositioned.”
“Well,” Cid said with a half-shrug, “I can understand Razzy and Sammy, but you two are still learning.”
Krill asked, “What’s that have to do with anything?”
“It means," Cid emphasized. He stalled at that. “Well, damn, could mean a few things.”
“Like what?”
Cid exhaled slowly as he considered the possibilities. “Razzy and Sammy are around a Class 2. They’re rare in their own right. They’re also here against their will. Think of it as community service. There are lot of organizations — lesser ones — that would want them on their side. Some, however, will take whatever they can get.” He scratched his chin and asked, “Did you notice anything peculiar about those three that entered the bar?”
Bosco snorted at the word ‘peculiar’. “Well, one of them looked like a porn actress from Alpha Centari. The human woman looked like she was in charge though.” He muttered something about “Knocking the bottom out of that.” He cleared his throat and continued. “The other was this Anubis-cat-looking motherfucker that—”
“Wielded a black flame?”
Surprised, Bosco said. “Yeah. How would you know?”
“That’s Kuruthan,” Cid said, his voice more solemn. “And you don’t want anything to do with them.”
Bosco held out a splayed hand, "Them, meaning . . .”
“They’re called The Vorpal Advocacy.”
Bosco scowled at Cid. He was not in the mood for multi-syllabic titles. “Begin explanation without the use of Webster.”
Cid held his hand out and nodded his head. “To sum it up: they use Echoes for more unsavory purposes.”
Bosco spread his arms. “Like?”
“Assassination.” Cid considered the word in his head before agreeing upon it. “Among other things. Their talents aren’t used in the best of ways. We’re a bit more focused on keeping the peace. Better image. Better society. Seeing Echoes do some good helps us all out. I don’t think I need to elaborate on how some of us stick out like a three-legged tapir rutting with a platypus”
Bosco said, “Where do you even get these?”
“Not sure myself,” Cid admitted. “Anyway, I need to emphasize how lucky you two are. This is a good place to be, unless you piss off the help. I can tell you from firsthand experience that Audalon isn’t going to let anything happen to you, unless you screw up, of course.”
Bosco could believe that. Bizarre and unnerving as the man was, he otherwise carried an amiable, if not assholish aura about him, despite the feigned murder attempt. “Alright,” he said, “so do The Deafeners have a thing against The Vorpal Advocacy?”
“You could say that,” Cid said as he began pacing, “what with the aforementioned unsavory ideals. The best thing y’all can do is ignore the propositions. Trust me: you’re in better hands here.”
Bosco scoffed at that. “You lost your sale on the ‘better hands’ aspect.”
Cid thinned his lips and bobbed his eyebrows. “Point put. Anyway,” he said with a sigh, “guess I ought to start explaining a few ground rules here. One: you don’t mouth off to your superiors. I’m thinking you know that by now.”
Bosco couldn’t help but glance at his abused genitalia. “And?”
“You don’t harm humans.”
Even Krill couldn’t agree with that. “But we’re bouncers, and most of our patrons are humans. And a lot of them are assholes. Like Bosco.”
Bosco took offense to that. “My assholism is unprecedented. Don’t compare me with such peasants.”
Krill frowned wryly at Bosco. He said to Cid, “I don’t get that. What if we see a lady, like, being molested by a grandpa gang? Can we at least restrain them?”
Cid approved of the point with a slow nod. “Keywords: do not harm. Despite being a Class 5, you both can easily restrain any human. But I need to stress the importance of not harming them. The Deafeners we’re established not just as a check and balance, but to give a better image of us. In some ways we’re just as varied humans, and people need to know that, despite our appearance.”
Bosco frowned wryly and crossed his arms. “Easy for you to say: you look like the fuckboy dream-bang of every female millennial.”
“True,” Cid said, not at all disapproving of the observation. “This is more a matter of unification. We’ve been put in a strange place: it’s not always easy to divide us by color and species, especially since some look human. Congress is still shitting its britches on the what-for and what-not with how to deal with us.”
Bosco pointed out, “One of those are British terms.”
“I’m cultured!” Cid snapped. “I was raised in Georgia, alright? It ain’t easy coming back from that.” Flustered, he ran his hand through his hair and continued. “Anyway, I think it’s about time that we started exploring your potential.” He cleared his throat and continued. “So, what have you all noticed about yourselves, despite the obvious?”
Bosco and Krill had a moment of derp. Bosco said, “Uh . . . besides being Rakshasas and able to dead lift a Mazda? No personal experience insinuated.” He was certain that Mandi hadn’t appreciated the abrupt breakup gesture.
“Alright,” Cid said. “Have y’all noticed anything subtler?”
Bosco thought further on that. “Well, Krill and I tend to beat the shit out of each other. A lot.” His brow furrowed as he realized something. “I don’t remember needing first aid after the fact, even after you and Kurai tried to neuter me with your Tesla hands.”
Krill mentioned, “And Samael’s claws.”
Bosco shuddered at the memory. “I pity the man who pressures her into date rape.”
Cid held his hands to the sides and grinned. “See? That’s what I’m looking for. You’re both pretty stalwart for a Class 5. Offensively, y’all kinda suck.”
Bosco bared his fangs. “We suck? And you want to test that?”
“Actually,” Cid said, “that’s precisely what I intend to do.” He ambled around them for a moment, his arms crossing behind his back.” He stopped, his head tilting back. “I’m going to attack you with my essence.”
Nervously, Bosco asked, “Essence?”
“You’ll figure it out,” Cid said, his arms dropping. It happened within a blink. He leaped, his arm rearing back, his fist alight with a furious blue energy that wisped and crackled like lightning and fire.
Bosco widened his stance and brought his arm up as the incoming blow struck him. He grunted, the impact staggering him, the sensation of a thousand stings pervading his flesh and muscle. “Jesus,” the tiger said, “were you holding back on that?”
“A lot,” Cid replied, the wispy essence from his arm fading as he pocketed his hands. He lowered his head as he observed Bosco’s stance. “Interesting.”
Bosco asked, “What?”
“That stance you took. Have you had any previous training?”
Bosco shook his head. “No. Why?”
“Because by the looks of it, you have some martial capability built into you.” Scratching his chin, he circled around Bosco. “Good alignment: shoulder-width, slight bend in the knees. Good start. Your instincts are already above par. But . . .” He halted and canted his head. “I think you all can do better.”
Krill stepped forward. “How?”
“Well,” Cid said, “your abilities, believe it or not, seem to be geared more for a defensive line. If I had to speculate, I’d say your predecessors were Guardians.”
Bosco growled in frustration. “I could give the rat-assed wig of Donald Trump about the lore. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Cid stressed, “that you can make your passive abilities more active in terms of defense, make them manifest.” He read the confusion on their faces and explained. “Example: y’all heal fast, right?”
Krill said, “Yeah, but what do you mean by making them active?”
Cid said, “As Guardians, if I’m correct, you can hasten that, make the effect more immediate.”
“But how?” Krill asked. “I mean, we can’t do glowing power thingies like you do. I don’t think we’ve ever been able to do that.”
“Oh, we’ll get it out of you,” Cid assured. “Usually if it’s a latent power, it’s just a matter of inducing a stress response.”
Krill didn’t like the sound of that. “So it’s like what you did to Bosco just now?”
Cid raised his hands, his essence enveloping them. “You got the right idea.”
“Oh,” Krill said. “Crap.”
Cid barreled toward Krill and flurried him with blows, the reptile reeling back as he tried to guard. Half of the strikes went through, and one blow caught him directly in the gut and raised him off his feet. Krill hunched for a moment and clutched his stomach as he figured out how breathe again. “That sucked.”
Cid turned to Bosco. “Your turn!”
The tiger was not enthused. “No, no, no, NO, NO, NOT THE BALLS!” Cid did not deliver any strikes to Bosco’s groin. However, Bosco was equally displeased with the energized, hooking punch that sped across his jaw, the tiger whirling across the floor before the momentum caused him to perform an involuntary paraplegic breakdance before collapsing onto the floor.
Bosco’s eye twitched. “I am less stressed and more concerned about the lack of feeling in my legs.”
Cid walked over to him. “Let me fix that.”
Bosco yelped as Cid raised his foot over him. The tiger rolled from the stomp and got to his feet. Breathing heavily, he snarled, “Didn’t pad the floor now did you? Asshole.”
Cid shrugged and continued to approach Bosco. “Look! A miracle! You can walk again!”
“Well, yeah, but— JESUS ON JETSKIS!” A sphere of spinning energy within Cid’s palm displaced the air, the power at a dull roar.
Cid shouted over the noise. “Alright. I want you to attack me.”
“YOU ARE ALL MANNER OF FUCKED!”
“Look!” Cid assured, “nothing here will kill you! You gotta take the initiative!”
Bosco screamed, “NOT TYING THAT NOOSE!”
“Just dodge and counter!”
“JUST?”
“In five, four, three . . .”
Bosco couldn’t escape the feeling that approaching Cid was an idea wrought with future peril. However, he was under Devarious’ orders, and even he himself was curious to see if he could evoke the abilities that Cid had mentioned. Gritting his teeth, he charged forward and took his precious two seconds to devise a counter, probably involving the tried and true method of “punch him in the face before he does.”
Bosco’s timing was off. Cid thrust out his hand, the orb spinning toward him. The tiger’s eyes glowed before the radiance that was three inches from his face, his fur raising and crackling against the essence. The memory of his nether region’s anguish came to him, and he would be damned if he received a face full of whatever fuckery this ability was. Yet as he stepped off to the side, he found his instincts taking a strange turn: he raised his arm as if to shield himself, and instead of questioning himself, he placed his bets on his reflexes and hoped they had something better than “leave my arm a smoking mass of charred flesh.” As the orb approached, an energy manifested on Bosco’s forearm. It was brief: a faint, blue glow that resembled a misshapen aegis.
The orb screeched against the shield, the tiger skidding backward as it drove into him. He shifted his weight and batted the blast aside, the energy splashing upon the floor in a pool of coruscation before dissipating. He wasn’t sure what had happened, nor did he have the cognitive ability to figure it out. A sudden fatigue had taken him, and it was taking everything he had just to keep standing. After a few labored breaths, he asked, “What the hell just happened?”
Cid was smiling in approval. He shot a finger at Bosco and said, “What I thought would happen. Just had to pull it out with a bit of mortal peril, that’s all.”
Bosco clenched his teeth and staggered toward Cid. “No. Seriously. What. The hell. Was that?”
“One of your powers,” Cid said casually.
With widened eyes, Krill strode over to Bosco and got a better look at him. “You don’t know how you did that?”
Bosco’s fists trembled. “KRILL! ARE MY OBVIOUS INQUIRIES NOT INDICATIVE OF— ow, it hurts to scream.” He clenched his temples, a low growl coming from him. “Dear lord, everything aches.”
Cid sided next to Bosco. “It’s usually like that the first time. It takes a bit of pushing for it to manifest.”
Krill asked, “Does every Echo have to go through that in order to learn their abilities?”
“Only the lesser ones,” Cid said. Krill sulked a little at that. Cid said to him, “Look, don’t take it personally. Think of it as . . .” He tapped his chin as he tried to come up with a good comparison. “Digging.”
Bosco, with his hands still on his head, said, “Digging? Really? So you pretty much just used dynamite to get it out?”
“Exactly!” Cid said. “Higher Echoes don’t have to try as hard. Since they have more essence at their disposal, it doesn’t take as much effort to reach it. It’s almost spatial in that sense.”
Krill frowned a little. “You make it sound like it’s finite.”
“Mm,” Cid said, shaking his head. “Not really. You can drain it, but it’s kind of like catching your breath. It can come back, but like breathing, you have to know when to push and when to rest.”
“Huh,” Krill said, shuffling his feet. “So can you condition it?”
“Absolutely,” Cid said. “It’s even possible to jump classes, at least to our criteria.”
Bosco limped toward Cid, knitting his forehead as he tried to think through the daze. “Can you jump from a Class 5 to a Class 1?”
Cid frowned wryly and shrugged. “I’ve never heard of it.”
The idea invigorated Bosco. Drawing closer, he asked, “So you’re telling me it’s possible to go from a scrub to a demigod?”
“Well,” Cid said hesitantly, “considering there has been no recorded history of that ever happening, I’m going to go with no.”
Scowling, Bosco and Krill lowered their heads at Cid. Bosco sucked his teeth. “I fail to see how we’re going to be any kind of asset when man-munching lamprey grandpas we’ll always have the upper hand.”
A sly smile spread across Cid’s face. “When we talk about the class system, we’re referring to power overall. That doesn’t mean facets of your ability are restrained to a predetermined level. Example just now: you deflected my essence for the first time without any prior training. With practice, that may be an ability that most Echoes won’t be able to touch.”
Bosco was only slightly appeased by that. “‘With practice’, he says.” He grunted and chuckled a little. “So I guess that’s the lesson for today?”
“Mm,” Cid said, splaying both of his hands. Two azure orbs swirled into existence within his palms. “Nah.”

{{}}

By the time the elevator dinged to the ground floor, Bosco and Krill were staring at the tile. Thoughts of deep sleep went through the two, a dull ache throbbing through their minds and bodies.
Bosco slurred, “Krill?”
It took a moment for the reptile to respond. “Huh?”
“I think we need to start walking again.”
Krill mouthed, “Fuck,” as the two shuffled out of the elevator, their shoulders sagging.
They were limping by Kurai when she perked her head up from her monitor and twiddled her fingers at them. “Hello! I’m guessing that was a fruitful training session?” Incoherent mumbling and cursing came from the two as they made slow progress toward the exit. Kurai, eager to get Krill’s attention, primped her quills a bit and said, “Be sure to rest well, Krill! We’ll see you tomorrow at 10AM sharp, right?” More muttering came from the two. Kurai pouted and continued perusing a dating site. She peeked her head out to the side as she severely eyed Krill’s departure. She would get the big lizard’s attention, one way or the other.
Bosco and Krill managed to emerge into a fresh dusk, the traffic surprisingly sparse. Only a few pedestrians roamed the sidewalks, giving the two Echoes perturbed looks as Bosco and Krill shambled to the intersection. Uncaring of the honking vehicles coming to an abrupt halt, they made their way across to the parking lot of the fast food restaurant.
Groggily, Krill said, “I can’t believe I couldn’t do anything.”
Bosco had to shake the fog from his mind to realize what Krill was getting at. “No powers?”
“Yeah,” Krill said, trying not to mope. “You did yours pretty quick. If we’re both Class 5, then how come mine didn’t happen?”
“I don’t know,” Bosco said, slowing his shuffle. “It’s only the first day, and I’m pretty sure sadist Cobain will think of other ways to get it out of you.”
Krill became miffed at that. “That wasn’t reassuring.”
“Wasn’t supposed to be.”
“Asshole.”
“Says right on my birth certificate,” Bosco quipped. They continued on in silence for a moment.
Krill asked, “Wanna stop by The Dragon Lush?”
Bosco halted, his ceased momentum swaying him. “Krill,” Bosco said solemnly, “I am about to say something that is rarely spoken, and I want you to take heed.”
Krill arched an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“I am too goddamned tired and beaten to drink right now.”
Lethargically, Krill shook his head. “Lies.”
Bosco was opening his mouth to say something, but reconsidered. “Yeah, that was a bit heavy.”
“Mm hm,” Krill said, looking toward his truck. “You still want to go? Check up on Tommy?”
Bosco sputtered his lips as he slowly veered toward his Monte Carlo. “I trust the mutt not screw the pooch on this one. It can wait.”
Krill stopped and looked back at Bosco, his head canting. “Was that pun intentional?”
“No idea. Cognition failing. Going-the-fuck-home protocol initiated. See you tomorrow.”
“Later,” Krill said as the two made their way to their respective vehicles. It was a long trek for the them after the punishment Cid had dealt, and both of them nearly fell asleep in the driver seat. Krill was first to leave, as Bosco had just remembered his interlock system.
He was glaring at it with the intent of setting it on fire with his eyes. He wondered if that was a hidden ability of his. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the soreness and raised his arm, stared at it. He wasn’t sure what being a Guardian entailed. He presumed it was appropriate enough, what with his chosen profession. Still, he found his murky thoughts wandering toward questions that he had never dwelled upon: who were his predecessors? Had they been of a higher class? If so, how did he get the piss-end of the gene pool?
A low snarl came from him as he pulled his attention back to the interlock system. With a slow inhale that threatened to pop his abdominals out of place, he sneered at the plastic tube and brought it to his lips, grudgingly exhaled. The system beeped in approval, and Bosco tossed it on his passenger seat.
He started the ignition, and with a wariness induced by sledgehammer fatigue, pulled out of the parking lot and navigated the amber-lit city roads back to the outskirts toward his home. Pulling up to his house, he took his keys from the ignition and gritted his teeth as he prepared to move again. Even the act of opening his door was akin to having a guffawing Jolly Green Giant execute a Jiu-jitsu compendium on his arm.
Successfully leaving his vehicle, he nearly busted through his screen door, forgetting its existence. Growling, he opened it with a wince and jammed his house key into the lock. Opening his door, he nearly collapsed as he walked in. He nudged his back against the door and closed it, and with what meager energy he had, hurried to his bed and crumpled upon it. He was snoring within a minute, his battered tail twitching.