Chapter 9

There was another incident today. Someone stole from one of the other test subjects. Initially Harbringer thought she had misplaced her tablet. She told me she looked over her house 'a million times' and couldn't find any sign of it. The CoLs had the weekend off and she has remained in and around her house for the duration until the tablet went missing. Book offered to help look for the tablet and was able to deduce that it had been stolen as well as who had taken it. This is, perhaps, the twentieth time Book has helped someone solve a mystery like this. When they arrived they brought their own notes and journals detailing their powers, so I knew from day 1 of the study that Book had an interest in answers. Personally, I wonder what branch of law enforcement they'll enter when they leave this place. I'm not the only one in the laboratory who wonders.

- CoL Case Study 0001 Notes of Doctor Rose Hailu, December 12, 2029

"Can you hear me?" Eugene asks.

"Loud and clear," I say as I walk up to the line for Stick Shifter's.

It's not a terribly long line, which makes sense. Austin and the surrounding areas do have a pretty high population of CoLs, a little over twenty thousand total, but not all of us are the nightclub sort, myself included. I checked my phone in the car, this is the only CoL exclusive club in the city, and one of three in the entire state of Texas. The idea of clubs like that deny access to people without powers hasn't been free of controversy.

"Good, don't react or respond to me when I talk. We don't want them knowing you're wired," he says. "I take your silence as acknowledging that, by the way. Go in, find the guy, and try to get him to talk about what he's done. Maybe you can get a clue about where the kid is. Aaron's bound to have accomplices. He's certainly not the brains of the operation."

I move up with the line. A few people waiting have modified their bodies to look like humanoid animals. It's good to know furries never go out of style. I know some online who hang out in CoL oriented forums wishing for the day they become Embers. Generally they're kind folks who are always willing to help out those in need.

A couple people ahead of me get turned away and leave while arguing loudly about their new IDs being useless. They look mostly normal but their brightly colored hair is noticeably dyed and their ears stiff and plastic. It's not the sort of plastic look a Class A can achieve, one that still moves with them.

"Is there a problem?" Eugene asks.

I don't reply.

"Good, see, that was a test," he says.

I try not to laugh as I reach the front of the line. The bouncer is huge, muscular, and has pointed ears and horns. He could be Eterna's older brother. He glares down at me and hooks a clawed thumb behind him.

"Leave," he growls.

"I have my I.D," I say reaching for my pocket.

"No Basics," he says. "I.D.s can be faked."

"Okay," I reply. I make sure the earpiece stays in place as I quickly shift my face and teeth to mimic a tiger, the orange, black, and white striped fur blends horribly with my sea green hair. I snap my teeth at his face with a roar then say, "This better?"

The bouncer nods and grabs the velvet rope. "Much."

I nod and change my face back to being oh so very punchable as I pass him and enter Stick Shifter's.

I thought Thunderskull's party was loud and annoying but this nightclub puts it to shame. I had underestimated the number of CoLs in the area that would frequent a place like this. The place is packed and loud.

Plus, it smells like a mix of alcohol, vomit, and any number of mistakes. I think about removing my currently small nose entirely. The loud guttural chanting in the bass heavy dance music isn't speaking English but I understand it completely. It's a poem in Old Norse about how Odin sacrificed himself to learn language followed by the singer chanting the FUTHARK letters.

Basically, the most metal dance mix of the ABC song you could imagine. I took the time to learn some of the old poems about the Norse gods after I gained my powers. While 'Children of Loki' is a popular name for us and some folks even worship old Viking gods it's not the case everywhere.

In other regions of the world people have identified more with other shapeshifting gods and goddesses. I have no clue if they're even the cause of our powers or not. Maybe one day we'll figure it out.

"Sounds like you made it in," Eugene remarks in my ear.

Even if I were to try to respond to him I doubt he'd be able to hear me over the din of the music in this place. I've never seen this many CoLs in one place. The waitstaff at Stick Shifter's are CoLs, and a few ask me if they can get me anything, to which I decline each time.

"What are you doing? Buy something or you'll look suspicious," Eugene says into my ear. I'm surprised he could hear me turning down drinks.

I weave through people to reach one of the better lit bars that's spread around the club. This one is a dark counter built along the top of a giant warped and stretched human skeleton. The stools are topped with faux human skin with legs in the shape of femurs.

A bartender spots me and slides over. Fuzzy silver cat ears, matching their long glistening hair, twitch at the sides of their otherwise human looking head. Their outfit is a simple black button-up shirt with buttons in the shape of skeletal hands.

I really hope the different areas of this club don't have some sort of weird meaning, I think to myself.

"What'll you have?" they ask.

"What do you recommend?" I counter.

The bartender smirks. "Going home," they say with a laugh. "But, gotta pay the bills and I'm feeling lazy. We have some nice craft beers on tap. You look like you can appreciate a good draft."

Gods I want to punch myself.

I nod. "Dealer's choice."

The bartender smiles and takes a few steps away to fetch my drink.

"She's right," Eugene comments.

"Fifteen for this," the bartender says as they set a frothy faux horn mug in front of me.

I get some cash out and pay before taking the cup. I drink a sip and use my powers to prevent myself from showing any distaste.

"What's this one called?" I ask.

"Ymr's Spine," the bartender replies. "Good, no?"

"Fantastic," I say with the worst shit eating grin I can muster. "Thanks."

I take another swig and shuffle away from the skeletal bar. As I move I shift a few things in my head near the earpiece so I can talk to Eugene.

"Gods damn, I hate beer," I hiss into the earpiece, hoping I didn't make the secondary mouth I just formed too large. It sounds like my current vocal cords at least.

"I told you not to talk," Eugene protests.

"Relax, this is temporary and no one can hear, don't ask how I'm doing it, you do not want to know," I say. "I just had to tell someone. This shit tastes like dry piss."

Eugene laughs on the other end of the line then surprises me again by asking, "What's that place look like inside, anyway?"

"Stylistically all over the place," I say. "Four separate bars with different themes on the outside edges placed around some tables, booths, and a central dance floor. I was just at a H.R. Giger looking bar, but now I'm walking up to a neon pink cartoon pony monstrosity."

"I'm glad I didn't look it up online," he replies.

"I'm glad you didn't either," I say. "I really should have done more research myself. This place is hideous."

"Keep an eye out for anything that might've been in the background of Aaron's photos," Eugene says. "Which I'm sure you were already doing."

"Yeah," I say. "Pretty sure he's over in a booth near the dimly lit corner farthest from me. I think it's an ocean themed area."

"That sounds like the place."