Marcus POV

December 1, 2026

 

Come to me…

For a moment, I believe it's someone else.

“Yeah sure baby, be right there…”

Then I hear Caleb laugh. “You are even flirting with the voice in our head now?”

Reality crashes in.

I become aware of the warm weight on my chest and nudge Onyx, the oldest of our three cats, off me. The synthetic leather of the couch sticks to my skin as I sit up. I shake my head, pushing the last bit of sleep away.

Right.

Not the voice I was thinking of.

Last thing I remembered was getting home from my date and seeing Noah escorting a very drunk Danny to bed. I had laughed some as Danny responded to the whisper, “Shut up, you bossy ass bitch…” and Noah just patted his back, leading him away. I wasn't exactly sober myself. Apparently I made it as far as the couch before calling it a night.

“Shut up… I was dreaming of someone else.”

Caleb snaps the closures on a lunch container closed.

“Sure…anyway, your lunch is ready. I gotta head out. See you after work.”

I watch him go out the door. Laughing at myself as I shake my head and stand to stretch. I catch a whiff of myself and grimace some.

“Whew…yep, shower time.” To the empty room.

Noah’s keyboard chatters through the wall. I swear he hits the keys harder when he knows I’m awake.

As I pass his room I duck my head in.

“You workin tonight?”

“Affirmative.”

“Nerd”

“Hose dragger.”

He doesn’t look away from his screen, but I hear the smirk in his voice.

I check Danny’s room. Door is open, and no brother-shaped lump in the bed. Figures, man seems determined to work himself to death. Hope he doesn’t have too much of a headache. Though he should have got a few hours in him before work.

Getting to the bathroom, I take care of some business, then get the water going. I hear my phone going off with notifications from the heap of fabric I had left on the floor. I laugh a little to myself as I step into the hot water.

“Don't worry, I'll get to you soon.”

Once I get the grime and sweat off, I step out and dry myself off. Wiping the fogged mirror clean, I check myself over.

Eh. Not enough stubble to bother shaving.

Besides, people love the rough look anyway.

I dig my phone out of my pants and wrap a towel around my waist. The good part of living with just your brothers is you don’t have to worry about modesty. Well, except when Samantha- I refuse to call her Sammy - comes over.

Though I might have purposely walked through the loft in a towel just to irk her. You would think a woman dating a guy with stripes and a tail wouldn't blink at seeing another one.

Once in my room, I look for my uniform pants and shirt. It's more a branded tee, but we gotta look like a team, even when not in gear. I find both sitting on the end of my bed, nicely folded. I swear, Mom trained Caleb to take over for her when we moved out.

I pull my pants on, threading my tail through the custom slit. Caleb hides his tail under scrubs, says it’s a hospital thing; don't need cat hair everywhere. Danny does too, for similar reasons. Claims the tail just causes more problems than needed. Noah and I are the only Satos who aren't ashamed to be fully the tiger guys at work.

The damn whisper starts her loop again. I roll my neck and pull my shirt on. Slightly tighter than regulation maybe, but why hide what the job naturally gave me? Plus, crowd control gets real easy when a six-two brick house with sharp teeth walks over and stares people down.

I look at the clock. 21:30. Crap, how the hell I sleep all damn day? Least I still got some time to eat and check some messages before I head out for my 23:00 shift.

I go check the fridge. Lots of neat little containers with names on them. I find one with my name and “dinner” on it. Mom's homemade meatloaf with mashed taters and green beans. Yes please.

As the microwave hums, I check over my messages. Family chat has some random ems memes and Dad chiming in his thoughts. He's been a medic twenty-nine years, two more than I've been alive. He's more an FTO nowadays, but he sometimes still takes a shift and scares the crap outta us just showing up on scene.

Checking over my other messages, I see one from Gina. She was Monday. Heather was Saturday... Wait. Might have that backwards. I think Tuesday was Kyle... maybe. Eric... oh wow. Seven messages. Oh well. Answer's always the same.

"Sorry babe, don't know when I can get out again. Had a great time though."

Most of 'em take it well. Had a few try to nail me down. I let one a while ago.

But it's better this way. Safer.

No sense getting attached.

Forever ain't a thing that's real.

My food dings and I go settle on the couch, turning on the TV. Nightly news is on. Local guys saying something about some protest. I kind of check out till I hear the word “Variant”. That gets my attention.

Some guy got outed, apparently; he’s one of the kind with powers. Locals ain't too happy. They never are. About anything.

Hell, we still get people up in arms over us sometimes, but we did the blood test, we ain't variants.

Dad doesn’t even know what we are. He woke up in Japan five years before Mom met him. The only thing he had was some weird military-lookin' uniform, torn and burned all to hell. That uniform's the only reason they even knew his name. Kenji Sato had been the only thing they could read on an ID they found in his pocket. The rest was written in a language nobody else could read. Dad could. Dad Spent months recovering from injuries that no one knew where he got em. Then he took up being a medic, cause he showed a natural skill at it. He always told us he knew how to do things, just didn’t know where he learned them. Like English. That part surprised him when he first heard the lost young woman asking for people to help her. That young woman turned out to be Mom on a trip for college.

The news moves on to weather. Typical weather for Charleston, cold one week, blazin the next.

I eat and pay more attention to my phone than the TV. I just like the sound of it. When you grow up with three brothers, you get used to noise, and it don't feel right quiet.

My feed is filled with random memes, old school friends, all my crew. I laugh to myself seeing a post by one of em. It’s some joke about gas prices. I laugh react like a good friend.

I tend to get in trouble when I actually post or comment. I swear, post one picture of me shirtless while I was washing the truck, and everyone (my brothers) call me a menace to society. I still get DMs about that one, though, so i think I win.

I notice a memorial post for someone's birthday.

Oh…

Yeah, that's today.

I never took her, or the others off my list.

I didn't stop being friends with em, they just ain't updating anymore.

I stared at the screen a second longer than I meant to.

Then I kept scrolling.

I get into reading some article about weird facts from movies. Stuff like that is always fun to just randomly bring up when the night gets quiet.

I jump a little when the whisper does her thing.

Then I hear Noah.

“I think it gets louder in relation to our emotions, or distraction"

I give him a skeptical look.

“Bro, this thing is some recording someone put on loop to drive us nuts.”

“That does not explain how or why."

I get up off the couch, tucking my phone in my pocket and carrying my container.

“Explain how or why we look like we do. You solve that, maybe we figure out the spooky recording lady.”

Noah sighs and takes off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Listen, I'm headed in. I took some extra hours too, so I’ll be back late.”

I shrug a bit, “as if I don't hear your lovely voice all damn shift.”

“You know I like us knowing where each other are. Safety.”

I nod and give his shoulder a solid clap.

“Don't worry, I'll text when I’m off.”

After he leaves, I wash up my container. Caleb does enough; we wash our own dishes.

My drive to the station isn’t long. Just gotta make it across town. Charleston gets real quiet after a certain time of day. Yeah, there are cars, but they are few and far between.

I’ve been to bigger cities. They felt claustrophobic and way too crowded. I’m not used to the idea of not being able to see the sky or mountains.

Most people hate the night shift. Me? I don’t really care. Better than being left alone with my own thoughts.

My brothers all seem to work all the time too. When I’m not working, I’m usually off at some bar or club. Though ‘round here there isn’t really a nightlife. I mean, don’t get me wrong. There are nice places to eat and such, but a dance club like on TV? Always thought they just made those up.

I’m about halfway there when my phone rings. I’m about to hit the button on my steering wheel to decline, who the hell is calling this late anyway, when I check the display on the dash.

Darla.

The sister-in-law I never got to have.

Shit, what does she want?

I push the accept.

“Darla, it’s just about eleven at night.”

“Yes Marcus, but you wouldn’t answer your phone all day.”

I roll my eyes some as I keep an eye on the road, the empty street making it easy to go on autopilot as I say.

“Well gee, wonder why I might be sleeping all day. Not like I work nights.”

“You don’t always work nights.”

“What is it, Darla?”

“I got a weird call…”

“And what am I supposed to do about that? I aint part of your family anymore.”

“That’s your choice, but he was asking about Angela.”

The pit of my stomach drops, and a familiar chill runs through me, but I shake it off.

“What was he asking?”

“Things about you. About the other ones…”

I cut her off.

“Alright, did you tell him to actually come speak to me? Cause I’ll make him rethink that real quick.”

“I told him I didn’t have anything to say to him. I wanted to warn you, someone is digging up the past again.”

I sigh a little. Pull into the station parking lot and say to her,

“Well, thanks. But I can handle myself, Darla. Some mystery guy ain’t gonna scare me.”

I hear her sigh, a tired one I know too well.

"You really should come by sometime."

"Darla..."

"My Mom still asks if I've talked to you. That house you and Ange bought is just sitting empty…"

"Stop."

"I'm serious, Marcus."

"I said stop."

I hear her sigh a lot more forcefully. Like she’s holding something back, but she goes on.

“Fine. Take care of yourself, Marcus. Don’t do anything too stupid.”

“You take care, Darla.”

I end the call and shut off the engine.

I lean back against the seat, closing my eyes for a moment.

A flash of memory.

A hand...

Holding something...

I yank myself back before the rest can surface.

Shake my head hard enough to hurt.

Not tonight.

I grab my bag and get out.

As I walk across the lot, my tail lashing behind me, the damn voice starts again. Most days I keep a lid on that side of myself. Most days.

This wasn't one of them.

A deep rumbling growl rolls out of my chest before I can stop it. The kind of sound that makes people remember we're not entirely human.

I stop and glance around the parking lot, making sure no one heard it.

Empty.

Good.

I don't feel like explaining myself today. I prefer to choose when people stare.

Growing up, I never understood why nobody but Dad and my brothers looked like me. Even Mom is completely human. No stripes. No tail. No hint of the markings that cover our skin.

Dad, though? Dad could've been Danny's twin if you ignored the age. Natural white hair. Pale blue eyes. White fur.

Mom always joked her red must've mixed things up, turning the other three of us orange instead.

A lot of folks look at me and don’t believe my dad is from Japan. They swear me and my brothers can’t be quads.


But nope. I just got more of Mom in me. Her Scots-Irish side came through loud and clear.

I continue across the parking lot. Loud laughter spills from inside, followed by one word: probie.

Oh, fun. New blood.

Walking in, I spot the new guy getting shown around.

I keep moving. Locker first. Gear away. Lunch in the fridge. Normal things. Easy things.

Except my head won’t stay normal.

I keep pushing the memories down, but one thought keeps clawing its way back up.

Someone is asking questions.

It’s been almost seven damn years.

The police decided we had airtight alibis for all of them. Every single one.

Didn’t stop people from believing what they wanted.

But my crew saw me. They knew where I was that night.

I was on shift.

I head over to one of the ambulances.

My night to play EMT.

I'm not a natural at taking care of people the way Danny or Caleb are, but I'm learning. Besides, being dual-certified comes with a nice little bonus on the paycheck.

I'm checking the supply cabinets when I hear them.

"Most stations get a dog. We get Fluffy here."

I glance over my shoulder.

My tail is lazily swaying behind me, sticking out the back of the ambulance.

Fair enough.

I don't mind being called Fluffy.

Just... not by everybody.

I turn around and find the probie staring at me.

Kid's young. Still a little scrawny. Between my height, the stripes, and the fact I'm apparently looming over him, he looks like he's accidentally wandered into a tiger enclosure.

Poor guy.

I decide to help.

I look him dead in the eyes.

"...Meow."

Then I grin.

The guy gives me a cautious smile back.

Good.

I hop down out of the rig and stop in front of him. I'm still taller than he is, but at least we're not having this conversation with me looming over him from inside the ambulance.

I clap a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry. I only bite people who do stupid things on calls."

The rookie—Holstein, according to his name tag—lets out a nervous laugh.

Before he can answer, Lieutenant Williams speaks up from across the bay.

"Sato's gone a whole thirty days without an incident. We give him his catnip when he behaves."

I snort a laugh and shake my head, climbing back into the rig.

"How about a beer this time?

I don't expect an answer. All I hear is more laughter.

My crew's never made me feel different.

Just... the easiest guy to give hell to.

I've heard enough complaints about cat hair to last a lifetime.

To be fair, I do shed when I'm stressed.

That's probably why Caleb keeps his tail tucked while he's at work.

I finish stocking the last compartment.

Good thing I checked.

Someone forgot to restock the four-by-fours.

Figures.

I'm about to find something else to keep myself busy when the station tones drop.

Showtime.

I slide behind the wheel and wait for my partner to climb in.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of blonde hair.

"Ah, hell. Not Lagan."

"What the hell are you talking about, Sato?"

I glance over as I pull the ambulance forward.

...Not Lagan.

Pierson.

Right.

Just my mind bringing up another ghost.

Beth Pierson.

One of the best paramedics I've ever worked with.

Also fully capable of kicking my ass despite being about a foot shorter than me.

Beth has only been here about three years.

I've got the lights and sirens going, heading toward the Capitol.

Two-car collision.

Washington and Greenbrier.

Beth finishes pulling her seatbelt tight.

"Who the hell is Lagan?"

I don't take my eyes off the road.

"Pain in the ass."

A beat.

"Went and got herself dead."

Beth doesn't ask another question.

 

My mind goes to that night.

I had been showing off the ultrasound pics me and Ange had got that day. Tara Lagan, who could argue with me over how I breathed, poked me in the side. “Better hope that kid takes after his mom; we don’t need two of you.”

I had just flipped her off, as she headed out to ride home with her little brother. That was our rhythm.

Not an hour and a half later, I was helping to find her body.

Her brother Brandon, out of his mind, yellin' about monsters throwing trucks.

Never saw him after that night.

The drive isn’t long at all, a couple minutes at most.

The collision isn't anything serious.

Yeah, their cars are fucked, but they're both out walking around.

Arguing, more importantly.

Looks like an older guy—the one who probably took the turn without looking. Might've run the light. The other driver's a middle-aged woman.

The old guy's getting real aggressive, and Holstein's over there trying to de-escalate.

Love the kid's go-get-'em attitude, but the guy isn't listening.

Holstein's calm, speaking with authority, but I can hear the nerves underneath it.

So I step between them, saying quietly to Holstein, "Go help with the cars. I got this."

He nods and heads toward the wrecks.

I turn back to the man.

I've got a good four inches on him.

"Hey, buddy. Let's go sit down and get you checked out."

"No! That bitch wasn't—"

I step closer.

"That wasn't a request. Now sit your ass down so I can make sure you ain't gonna pass out on me."

He looks to the woman again, but I step into his view.

He sighs and finally lets me steer him toward the rig for an assessment.

Beth handles the woman.

The rest of the crew work on making sure the cars are not in any danger of catching fire.

I’m doing the usual checks- pupillary reactions, pulse- when I see him look behind me.

"What the hell is that behind you?"

I don't even bother looking.

"It's a tail, sir."

"Yours?!"

"Nah."

I keep checking his pupils.

"I just rent it."

“What the hell are you?!”

“At this very moment, an EMT who is making sure you didn’t hit your head too hard in that wreck.”

I put away my pen light and grab the blood pressure cuff.

“Can you give me your arm? Need to check your blood pressure.”

He offers his arm, and I get the cuff on him.

I am about to put the stethoscope in my ears when he says.

“You one of them variants?”

I sigh a little.

“No, sir. No powers here. Now please hold still.”

He does at least hold still for me.

After I finish the rest of the evaluation, I give the usual.

“We recommend you go get checked out at the hospital, just in case.”

The guy accepts. The woman Beth was treating refused. Said she’s gotta get home to relieve her babysitter.

So we get her refusal and get the guy ready for transport.

General is literally just up the road, so it’s a very short trip.

Beth and I work together, wheeling the cot into the ER.

It’s packed as usual, so we have to pick a spot along the hall and wait for the handoff.

I hear a voice I would know anywhere saying.

“Alright, you take care, peace, love and lots of chocolate.”

I look over and see Caleb handing discharge papers to a patient.

He looks over and sees me.

A quick chuff passes between us before either of us says a word — quiet enough the patient in front of him doesn't seem to notice.

"Oh hey, didn't know tonight you were switching from tank to healer."

I laugh a little.

“How’s your shift?”

Caleb looks around at all the people around and shrugs.

“Oh you know the usual. Which I can’t stick around”

As if on cue, someone calls from behind a curtain.

“Nurse! I have been waiting forever for that water!”

Caleb sighs.

"I gave them water fifteen minutes ago."

He gives me an apologetic smile.

"Anyway... see you later. Be safe."

As he rushes off.

The patient's staring at me.

"There's two of you?"

I chuckle and lean against the wall.

"Oh, you're really not gonna believe this."

"There's four of us."

"Plus our dad."

The patient blinks at me, then leans back on the cot and stares at the ceiling.

I try really hard not to laugh.

About half an hour later they finally get him a bed and Beth and I clear the hospital.

We're wiping down the rig when she breaks the silence.

"You ever think about doing a job where you don't have to deal with the stares and questions?"

I laugh and shake my head.

"Now where's the fun in that?"

She gives me a look that says, Really?

I shrug.

"So what? Go work in some office where nobody sees me?"

I toss a disinfectant wipe into the trash.

"Then what? Go home and hide there too?"

Beth doesn't answer at first.

"Just figured you'd get tired of it."

I stop for a second.

"What I get tired of is people thinking that just because I don't look like everyone else..."

I look down at the stripes on my arm before pulling my sleeve back into place.

"...I somehow don't get to exist where people can see me."



We finish cleaning and radio we're back in service.

The city isn't done with us. Chest pains. Two overdoses. A woman who can't catch her breath. Then another wreck.

This one I actually have to work.

They had to cut the driver out.

Looks like they fell asleep at the wheel.

Instead of picking left or right...

They picked the middle.

Unfortunately for them, the middle was concrete.


Beth and I work to stabilize the patient.

Young guy.


I see a couple Bags of food on the passenger seat with a delivery service on the receipt.

Someone's breakfast wasn't getting delivered.

Five in the morning...

Poor bastard was probably just trying to squeeze in one more run before heading home.

The patient's awake.

Judging by the look on his face.

He'd rather not be.

Beth does what she can for the pain while I keep working.

Obvious broken legs.

Probably a broken pelvis.

Head injury.

Chest trauma.

His piece-of-shit car either didn't have an airbag...

...or it decided today wasn't the day to work.

We get him loaded.

Beth rides in back while I drive.

We pull into General.

Again.

They take him back as a priority.

Back to cleaning the rig.

Again.

I'm throwing away the trash when something hits me square in the chest.

Protein bar.

"Thanks, Caleb."

"I'm pretty sure you've forgotten to eat tonight."

"Hey, lunch is still back at the station. I literally haven't seen it since we left the first time."

Thunk.

Another protein bar.

"Eat. Love ya. See you at home."

And just like that, he's gone.

Off to take care of more people.

Beth calls to me and I climb into the passenger seat.


We radio dispatch that we're back in service and get cleared to return to the station.

For now.

The sun's coming up.

Just a few more hours and I can finally go home.

We pull into the station.

I head for one of the beat-up couches in the rec room, flop down, and stretch.

For the first time all night...

I check my phone.

The family group chat is exactly what you'd expect.

Noah and Danny have apparently spent the night sending each other dumb videos.

I scroll past a few texts from people I know.

Yeah... sorry.

One date's still the rule.

Then I stop.

Unknown number.

Hey Marcus,

OK, weird. But not unheard of getting unknown texts.

Still, Darla’s words come back to me.

Alright, fine, they want to get brave and approach me?

Let’s see how brave they are.

I type: “Yeah, what ya what?”

I see the typing indicator almost immediately.

“There's something important, a favor I need to ask.”

I stare at the text, then roll my eyes as I reply,

“I ain’t got any money to loan to strangers.”

“This isn’t about money. I can’t explain further, but I will soon.”

“Stop wasting my time.”

I set my phone to the side. I am too damn tired to mess with mystery texts.

A flash of memory again. This time just a scent and a soft sound. Warm vanilla sugar. Her voice saying my name. I shove that away too.

It lingers a moment.

Then that damn whisper starts demanding my attention again. For the first time all shift, I realize it hasn't really shut up once. I'd just gotten good enough at ignoring it. About a week ago she got louder. My head's been killing me ever since. Except when I turn a certain way. Then it eases. This time, when I growl, there are people around. "Shit, Sato! Who took your ball of string?"

Beth and Holstein are by the kitchenette; it looks like she’s teaching him how to work our fancy coffee pot.

Lieutenant Williams had somehow convinced the city that a station without a decent espresso machine was a safety issue. I wasn't sure how he'd managed it, but nobody was complaining.

I sigh loudly and push my head back against the couch.

“Sorry Pierson, got some shit going on.”

“Well tell em they don’t get you for another couple hours; you are my problem till then.”

I can't help but smile.

That's the thing about this place.

Sure, I've got my brothers. Mom. Dad. The rest of the family.

But I've got my crew too.

They've always had my back.

When the media latched onto the idea that the four cat brothers had done the unthinkable...

My crew did everything they could to shut that shit down.

Almost seven years later, people have finally moved on.

Apparently one person's still digging.

I go back to my phone.

Watch some of the stupid videos Noah posted.

Police chases.

Wild PIT maneuvers.

Dumb stuff that's good for getting lost in for a while.

I don’t realize I fall asleep laying there.

There she is.

Not the she I want to see.

Nope.

The woman behind the whisper.

I never see her clearly.

She stands in the fog with one hand stretched toward me.

I think she's wearing a black dress.

Her hair's long, blowing in a wind I can't feel.

It's always her eyes.

That's what I notice.

Pale.

Almost white.

Glowing.

I scream.

"What do you want?!"

She doesn't react.

She never does.

In the dreams, she just keeps repeating herself.

Come to me.

Obey.

Fine.

She wants me to go to her?

Fine.

She ain't gonna like it.

I throw myself forward.

I don't move.

Not an inch.

I let out a roar.

That's when I wake up.

My body apparently didn't get the memo that the roar was supposed to stay in the dream.

Crash.

Glass shatters somewhere behind me.

I blink the sleep out of my eyes and look around.

Beth's standing by the coffee pot.

A shocked look on her face, her hand frozen in an open position like she had been holding something.

A shattered mug at her feet.

Coffee slowly spreading across the floor.

Holstein looks like he just reconsidered every career choice he's ever made.

Most people never hear what we can really do.

There's a reason for that.

"Sorry."

I rub a hand over my face.

"Bad dream."

She lets out a nervous laugh.

"Yeah..."

She glances at the broken mug.

Holstein is already grabbing paper towels. He looks over at me, worry written all over his face, but he doesn't back away.

She looks back to me.

"I can tell.”