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The young man moved with unnatural speed to a position next to Sebastian on the bench, and then he tried again to ask his question.

“AndyQuestionHornNatural”

Well, the words still were strung together, but at least the young man was understandable now. And he definitely was speaking English.

Sebastian readjusted his baseball cap. “I guess you could say it’s natural.”

Andy’s presence on the bench reminded Sebastian that while his twenty year old body blended in well, it was also full of hormones. Sebastian used his centuries of experience at ignoring such distractions to ignore the distraction and continued the important task of running his hand along the back of the ginger tom now curled up in his lap.

There was something a little odd about the young man sitting on the ground. At Sebastian’s query the young man grinned, waved excitedly, then rapidly shook his head all in the time it took Sebastian to inhale. With all that movement, it seemed very improbable that a moment ago he had been sitting so still. He looked like he was about twenty, but the way he waved reminded Sebastian of a hyperactive eight year old.

Meanwhile the tom’s claws were making his message clear, though not painfully so, yet. He could tell that the cat was enjoying his petting, but Sebastian didn’t kid himself that the cat was completely won over just yet. Sebastian let his scritching fingers travel up the edge of the ginger feline’s chin to the base of his left ear. Since his fingers had not been horribly mangled, Sebastian used his other hand to check the name tag hanging from the cat’s before starting to rub the purring prince’s other ear as well.

“Sinatra. That’s a fine name, though I’m sure the original Sinatra’s eyes weren’t as blue and handsome as yours,” Sebastian had never seen them himself, but they were legendary. “I’m Sebastian, and you are…” he raised his eyebrows at the youth, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

Seeing nothing about the upcoming Olympics in the sports page, Sebastian turned to the next page in mild disgust. It seemed that this particular newspaper didn’t care for speculating about Olympic football teams. They cared only for large photographs and blow-by-blow accounts of the final cup match for American football, the game played mostly with the hands.

The next section of the newspaper was the entertainment section. Sebastian didn’t particularly care to follow the mixed up lives of film and television actors. Their relationships were more outrageously mixed up than Zeus and Hera’s had been. They had more mistresses than Louis XIV.

Sebastian skipped ahead to the classifieds and began looking through them to see if there were any apartments for sale near by.

He did not have enhanced senses or x-ray vision, nor was he psychic. Therefore he did not notice the glaring tomcat that was trying to burn a hole through his newspaper with his glare.

Continued from Unicorn in Thailand

Finally Sebastian reached the state of New York. He went through customs one last time as he crossed over from the land that doesn’t exist into the United States. The northern border patrols were pretty relaxed. Sebastian wore a Yankees baseball cap that hid the small horn on his forehead and encountered no trouble. His tail was likewise hidden; wrapped around his stomach under his clothes giving him a slightly pudgier than normal look. He looked like he belonged in the States, and the guards didn’t even bother to examine his Thai passport.

A few hours later he had checked into a hotel near central park. The traffic in New York hadn’t bothered him in the least. After all, he had driven in Beijing, where a few inches between cars seemed to be plenty of personal space for most drivers. His hotel room would be temporary lodging until he could find a suitable apartment building. For now though, he wanted to catch up on the news. He purchased that morning’s paper in the hotel lobby, and then walked out to the park to read it in the cold fresh air. He settled down on a bench, pulled his jacket tighter around himself, adjusted his baseball cap, and began to read.

Normally he preferred to read the paper as an older gentleman, because the wisdom that came with age made him better able to see the connections between past and present events. Given the current situation in New York, Sebastian figured it was probably better to be less obvious about his mutation. The horn that grew from his forehead got longer as he aged, so he chose an approximately twenty year old body for its one and half inch long horn, the ability to wear a baseball cap without attracting too much attention, and enough years to be able to drive and rent a hotel room without anyone attracting attention.

Hunter collapsed screaming in pain. Sebastian hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t actually been able to hit him very hard with his weak one handed swing. Sebastian dropped the wooden weapon. He wouldn’t hit him again, even though it gave him less time, he couldn’t justify hitting Hunter again just to make sure he was unconscious. Sebastian would do what he could with the small amount of time that he had. He would be fighting against death, not for himself, but for the others in the room. Sebastian couldn’t heal people from death, he’d learned that long ago. Sebastian and Death had an interesting relationship. They couldn’t affect each other, but they could steal from each other.

Sebastian planned to do that right now. There were several in the room that he could save, but he couldn’t save them all. He only had a certain amount of energy and there wasn’t enough for everyone. There was quality of life after the healing to consider and the amount of energy it would take to heal the variety of injuries. He should be logical and figure out the best plan of action to ensure that the most people as possible could go back to a life that was worth living. Sebastian didn’t care. There wasn’t time to deliberate, only act.

He staggered toward the nearest victim in the center of the room, and one of the ones needing the most immediate attention; the council member who fainted holding his own intestines. Sebastian shoved them back inside his abdomen the best he could and placed his hand over the area. The other hand still supported his head. His own healing would take longer now that some of his healing energy was being siphoned off for others in need. With his eyes closed he could sense the injury, sense the other man’s pain. He could feel death pulling him away as he lost blood. Sebastian’s fingers began to tingle. Ice and fire battled each other through Sebastian’s fingers and he could sense the intestines begin to twist back together and new pink skin knit itself over the wound. When he was certain the man would live, Sebastian pulled away his hand. He wasn’t fully healed, but Sebastian needed to save as much energy as possible.

Next to the first man lay the councilwoman with the bloodied throat. Sebastian touched her with his still tingling hand. She was already dead. Sebastian moved on. A man lay next to her with a similar injury, Sebastian touched him and felt a fleeting life. Sebastian replaced a flap of skin that was still dangling from the man’s neck and held his hand over his throat for the few moments it took to let the healing begin. The man had lost his voicebox to Hunter’s vice-like hand and would never again speak out against mutants. Sebastian didn’t have the time to fix it. As soon as he was certain the man would recover he moved on.

His neck still wasn’t healed, but Sebastian needed both his hands. Time was of the essence. Hunter was staggering blindly and others were dying. He tore a long piece of fabric from the robes that would no longer be needed and wrapped it several times around his neck. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.

There was a man gasping silently for air, one of the guards had a crushed windpipe and was choking. Sebastian held his neck for a moment, healing the damage there. There wasn’t anything he could do about the brain cells the man had lost due to lack of oxygen. No time. Two more council members lay next to each other, still near the center of the room, one with bloody sockets instead of eyes, the other a face from a nightmare, his upper teeth flashing white as his tongue hung loosely down below, with now lower jaw to contain it. At least he was unconscious and not still screaming. Sebastian touched their faces momentarily, scabbing over their wounds to prevent more blood loss. The jaw was nowhere to be found. Perhaps a skilled surgeon could reattach it later. Sebastian hoped so.

He was beginning to feel the effects of the healing. His head was feeling light, as if it was he that had lost so much blood. His whole body ached now, his own healing halted, his body feeling a faint echo of each of the injuries he healed. He had to continue. Any moment Hunter would recover and… what would Sebastian do then? There was another councilwoman with her legs now bloody stumps. She was still conscious, but barely. As Sebastian reached toward her legs to stop the bleeding, her eyes met his. Her face was a mask of shock. There was no contempt in her eyes, only pain. Sebastian couldn’t tell if she even recognized what he was doing. Her legs scabbed over quickly.

Sebastian stumbled toward the periphery of the room, where the most of the guards lay separate from the council members. Sebastian could hardly walk. The healings were beginning to blend together now. A man with a indented chest, bone fragments impaling internal organs, clinging to life by a thread, one lung useless now. Another one with abdominal injuries, broken ribs and internal bleeding, his mangled hand was the least of Sebastian’s worries. One of the two survived, but the other died just as Sebastian placed his healing hands against his injuries. He had been too late. He couldn’t even remember which one had made it. Sebastian continued, working around the room growing weaker and weaker. Several guards Sebastian passed by without even pausing to touch, to check. They were so obviously dead. Others surprised him with the vibrancy of their life when he touched them, their lives still burning strongly as opposed to the flicker of flame he found in others. One, right arm and leg crushed by a pillar, and another with a spider web of cuts on his face and broken shards of pottery all around were actually conscious when Sebastian healed them, merely playing dead. The one might have a concussion and an interesting scar, the other might lose the limbs, but they didn’t require much energy from Sebastian’s touch to remain in the world of the living. It was a good thing, too, because Sebastian didn’t have much energy left.

He battled to stay upright with every step, battled to stay conscious. His neck was searing in pain, sending pulses toward his brain that nearly blinded him. Sebastian stumbled against the table that had been smashed against the wall and it fell. Three had been saved by the fact that their two comrades couldn’t control their appetites. Two fat guards had taken the brunt of the crushing blow, sparing the others from mortal harm. Sebastian collapsed on the floor as the table fell. He fought the darkness creeping in at the edge of his vision, crawled forward on his hands and knees. Forward. There were more. Lives.

Sebastian reached two more bodies, guards with mangled faces. He reached out. He collapsed with his hand outstretched toward one of the men, his own face landing face down, cheek to cheek with the other. His face buzzed and burned with ice. His fingertips did not. He felt the life floating away as he reached toward him. He was too late.

One councilman remained conscious in the center of the room. He had two broken legs and no way to run away. He saw everything. He wouldn’t forget what he saw for the rest of his life, however long that might be. The woman with amputated legs was likewise conscious, but she may or may not have even been in a state to comprehend what had happened around her. Two guards were likewise conscious, but would be pretending otherwise as long as possible. They hadn’t seen anything, but had felt cold and soothing hands touch their wounds, relieving some of their pain before moving on.

There was still one person left who needed healing, one Sebastian had injured himself. With great effort, Sebastian pushed himself up again. He crawled back to the center of the room, his head flopped forward, his neck burning. Hunter was still conscious and moving towards him. Sebastian could barely see him; blackness wavered at the edges of his vision. He had to do something or Hunter would kill them all again. Sebastian pushed himself to his knees, and reached out to put his icy healing hands on Hunter’s face, he would have told him then, please stop. Don’t kill them. But Sebastian fainted, falling forward, his arms outstretched.


(Save count: 5 council members (1 councilman had been left alive by Hunter), 8 guards

Hunter, feel free to have Sebastian heal you or not, collapse on you or the floor, or whatever you like.)

Sebastian felt the back of his head smash against the floor. He would have used words that Hunter wasn’t even old enough to recognize, but somehow he couldn’t find his breath. In fact, he was having trouble seeing, too. Hunter was on top of him. That wasn’t good. Sebastian definitely preferred to be on top. He clutched Hunter’s hands that had blocked his triple pronged attack and kneed Hunter in the groin. It was a cheap move, but Sebastian didn’t have many moves left at this point.

Two hands versus one robe. He could only dodge one. Sebastian turned to the right, taking his face out of harm’s way, choosing to sacrifice a rib or two. They were far enough down that his lungs wouldn’t be in danger of being punctured. As for the robe, after Hunter had already hit him, he swung it up around the man’s neck with his left hand. It was only a distraction though from his foot, which he had stuck between Hunter’s legs, hoping to twist it around his leg and topple him.

The ribs. They would heal in a few minutes, but that didn’t stop them from hurting right now. Sebastian winced in pain as he felt them crack, then begin the process of beginning to knit back together.