Cornered: Background

[x-tatiana.livejournal.com]

Tatiana manages to avoid her mutation for some 2 months until tonight.



She didn't have a uniform, and didn't have a badge. It was one of those things you figured out as time went on. If you were working off the books, less than minimum wage but no questions asked, it was like you didn't exist. You did your job, and you hoped that when you were done the person who'd promised you money didn't welsh.

Which is why she was here again, at Sam's Diner in Oswego. If the small, shabby building was on a side of the tracks, it would be on the wrong one, but it was where Tat'd been able to find work for the last week. Nothing big, of course. They just assumed she was an illegal immigrant, and she didn't see fit to disabuse them of that notion. It'd been two months since she'd had the comfort of home, the warmth and security of knowing how much money you'd have, of school and work and family. Two months since she found out that she changed, since she started running from who she was. And, if Tat was to be honest, she was doing a pretty good job with it. She'd not had an... incident since then, and now she was working for thirty dollars a night, just scrubbing out trash cans and sorting dishes, and on her hands and knees as she washed floors. That thirty dollars was enough for her to afford her quarter of the motel room she was sharing with three other people she didn't know, and some left over for food.

She was pretty sure that at least one of them was a junkie, she supposed as she bundled up trashbags, stacking them next to the side door, off the kitchen. It made it easier for when she had to take them out, and she dusted off her hands as she moved to prop the door open. Tat was pretty sure she could maybe ask the manager for thirty five tonight, since she was getting everything done quickly. Two bags in her hands, she headed out the side to the dumpster. She tossed them in, and then a weird, low growl caught her attention. Tat crept around the edge of the dumpster, her eyes widening when she saw the cat backed up against the old metal of the dumpster, lashing out at the two rats who had it cornered. "Hey!" She clapped her hands, causing the animals to startle. The rats fled, and the cat... The cat was scared, and she held out her hand, making soft, soothing noises.

The animal bolted, skimming the side of her arm as Tat stood to watch it slip into the dusk. "Well, then... I guess that's that," she murmured to herself before continuing to take out the rest of the garbage, coming back in to wash her hands.

Her manager came into the back later on, wondering where she had gone. "Tat? Donde es?" he called in badly accented Spanish. He wasn't above helping out the illegals, but he also wasn't too keen about getting screwed by one of them. "Tatiana!"

Tat scrubbed at her hands, leaning backwards- "~What do you...~" She trailed off, feeling a rush of vertigo as what she could hear... Whispers. "You know, this isn't really good pie."

"I thought marshmallows came with this!"

"Look, if we run now, we totally won't have to pay."

She could hear the hostess dropping the money, and the smells... God, the smells. "I need to go. Give me my money." She blurted it in English without thinking, all the color gone abruptly from her face.

Her manager blinked. "Now, wait just a second--" he said.

The undertone of her skin was green now. "I- Money. I need it-" She needed somewhere to sleep, needed to pay for the motel-

Needed to be sick. She moved to get past him. "Out- Get out of my way." She seemed unsteady on her feet, her hands shaking.



His arm shot out and gripped her upper arm, to stop her and to also hold her steady. Her passing out would lead to more complications, especially if he had to call an ambulance.

She twisted in his hand, yanking- she had to get away. Had to get free, was trapped- It seemed like her mind was spinning in small circles, focusing on the need to escape, the smells and sounds just feeding into that panic. She knew what was happening. She'd thought that if she could avoid it, if she was safe... Then her mutation didn't matter. That it wasn't real. And she'd been so careful, but now- God. She had to get away. "Let-" The next sound that lept from her throat was almost a squeal, the fur sprouting from her skin as she stumbled to the door - the front was closest, and she didn't care that there were people. All that thrummed through her mind- Escape.

Her manager dropped her arm and backed away, revulsion clear on his face. "Get, call the police..." he choked.

She heard chairs being pushed back even as the bile rose in her throat. She could feel her bones move, suddenly had the sensation of her tail, her teeth changing. She stumbled, falling to her hands and knees. Cell phones were pulled out, and she could hear the fake sound of cameras - piped in from the phones, signifying lasting images that would be sent from person to person with subtitles like 'You have to see this!'

It took too long for her to gather her wits, for her whiskers to tell her things she didn't even know how to interpret. They were already following her, and when she ran... She forgot. She forgot the way the diner was nestled between other buildings, forgot the slat fence at the end of the valley until she was cornered.