A Change in Priorities

“I don’t- I tried donating, really, I did. But, you know, they gotta run all these tests. Take your blood, whatever a biopsy is, all that shit. After all that, I’d be able to donate one measly fuckin’ kidney, and maybe a bit of liver. They wouldn’t let me donate more unless they figured out what I am, that I’m different. That’s a big problem, ‘cause hospitals are for fixing people, you know? Medical hospitals, mental hospitals, all that. You stick broken people in them until they’re all fixed. And I’m not broken.”

Alyssa paused at that point, letting it sink it.

“Plus, I wouldn’t get a single pretty penny for my labor. Lotsa organizations about organ donation talk like it’s sacred. Does this look sacred to you?” She said, pushing the last morsel of kidney into her mouth.

“It’s not sacred. It’s scarce. And like, I get it. We’re a bunch of meat meating through our lives, and most of y’all will only ever have the meat ya got. Offering money for something like that kinda is scummy, ‘specially when having two doesn’t mean you have a backup, just that you could do without if you had to.”

She looked at the thugs, propped up and bound.

“Everything’s got a price, even if the law says it shouldn’t, so you get these guys here. I thought I’d do good, get my money, maybe keep these creeps supplied so they don’t go around shanking hobos or preying on hookers. But they’re dumb, so they had to fuck it all up.”

“I, uh, sorry, that got a bit heavy and shit. Thanks for the advice, but I don’t care about frostbite or anything. The cooler’s so they don’t rot, ‘cause boy, do lone organs rot fast when they die, when they’ve been handled like this. I mean, I guess I could reattach them, use some macrophages to break them down but like, what’s the use? I’d have to set up all this stuff just to move the material around and store it somewhere.”

Alyssa patted her stomach, already flat and trim.

“Why bother when I can eat ‘em? Sure, I didn’t get paid, but at least I’ve got nine pounds of groceries to bring home.”

Pausing for a moment she focused on her ears, enhancing them. She could hear the police cars, now, the ambulance not far behind.

“Anyway, uh, that’s cool if you’re not into cape stuff. Keep up the timing though, yeah? Mighta had to kill a few of these guys if you hadn’t shown up. Nice meeting you, keep in touch, blah blah blah, all that stuff. Bye-bye!”

Alyssa took off with a girlish sprint down into the now-dark alleyway, waving behind her with wiggling fingers, until she turned a corner and lost sight of Gavin. She stuck to the alleys and backstreets while she undid the growth from the fight, only returning to the main road when she looked suitably normal. Or, as close to normal as she could manage. The blood on her dress that was hers had been easy to remove, she’d just wicked it into her skin. With the blood gone the gunshot holes wouldn’t look so conspicuous, hopefully. It was a long walk home, and she’d had enough attention for the day.

~~~

The stairs leading up to her apartment were quite old, the railing pitted and rusty. Alyssa made the mistake of using the railing when she was a new tenant, and had contracted lockjaw after one too many cuts palms. That led her to discover that somewhere in her power’s manifestation, her immune system had managed to forget most of her vaccinations.

But she cracked tetanus and beat its ass. And the common cold. And flu. A part of her wanted to get AIDS or something, just to cure that, too. Now she didn’t fear the railing, using it with little regard for its burrs and notches.

On the apartment door were four separate locks, making it stand out from the others. The wind kept sweeping her hair into her face, despite it not being too long. She didn’t need to see the locks that well, at least. Bone erupted from the tips of the digits of her right hand, save for on her thumb, forming into distinct keys. One by one she turns each lock open, inserting the literal skeleton keys with care.

The door opens with creaks and groans from its frame, warped by the hot and humid air. She shoves the cooler in first, then slips in behind it, closing the door quickly but quietly. Getting the cooler up the stairs had been a challenge, especially in heels. Better than trying to get the kidneys up five flights of stairs without them being seen. Plus, it was a nice cooler.

Inside her apartment was hot, even with the air conditioner running all day. Alyssa kicked her heels away and tore off her dress and bra, throwing them across the merged kitchenette-bedroom, where they landed… somewhere. She’d find them when she did laundry in a week or so, at least. The adrenaline from the fight had faded long ago, caffeine and alcohol following a few hours later. It left her in a state of absolute exhaustion coupled with, annoyingly, severe hunger pangs.

Opening the fridge felt great as the cool air wafted over her. She dug around, fishing out a tupperware full of fresh-enough frying batter, tossing it onto the counter. Then she opened up the cooler, plucking away three of the remaining kidneys and throwing the rest of the organ vine into the fridge’s meat drawer. She sliced the kidneys widthwise into little discs of offal, bathing them in the batter and tossing them into her countertop pressure fryer.

Wobbling on her feet now, she stumbled into the bathroom. Her pajamas were still there, the cozy cotton garments all the more tempting now. But she’d stayed naked for a reason, a very important reason.

Alyssa stood in front of the bathroom’s floor-length mirror, examining herself. She never left home with the same face twice, or even the same skin if she could help it. This one had been a bit of a rush job, similar enough to be mistaken with her real one except on close inspection. Her focus went to her skin, to the muscles of her face, as the changes started to be undone. Moles and freckles migrated back to their original locations, some new ones emerged, others fading entirely. Her visage rippled as its true form reasserted itself: that familiar, goofy face with its oversized hazel-brown eyes and curved-up button nose.

She’d save a lot of time if instead of reverting she just made the next day’s face before bed. That was risky, though: she might forget where everything went. She had pictures, of course, but they weren’t good ones.

A part of her thought that maybe, it wouldn’t be too bad to forget how she looked. No one ever accused her of being pretty, after all.

The fryer’s buzz shocked Alyssa out of her momentary melancholy. Satisfied that she was herself again, she slipped on her pajamas and trundled back to the kitchen. She burned her fingers while scooping the kidney chips out of the fryer and into a bowl, the oil sizzling on her flesh. Too tired to care Alyssa simply summoned up a whole load of nerve blockers and stopped feeling her hands, though she did will the skin to heal.

Bowl in hand she managed to make it to her bed, collapsing on it. Managing to right herself in a cross-legged position, she set the bowl in her lap so her hands could be free. One grabbed her laptop from her nightstand, the other fished the TV remote out from the covers.

“Mmmmm…” She murmured as she bit into the first of the kidney slices, barely keeping her head upright. The TV turned on before her laptop finished booting, a hospital drama that she had recorded. Ironic, but they showed weird diseases sometimes, and that helped her get ideas.

Blue light filled her vision as she squinted at the login screen, hammering in her password with the finesse of a drunkard. Alyssa managed to open her notes and started typing as her thoughts turned to the events of the day. Bits about storage, melting, pumping, as she remembered her conversation with Gavin.

Ideas came to her faster than she could find the keys to type them out, straining her already tired brain. Alyssa let out a deep yawn, and finally let herself drift off to sleep.

Gavin listened to her, his eyes closed as he did. He opened them again when she turned to leave. "Yeah, I'll try to keep my timing," he remarked, waving with his wounded arm. "And in touch," he continued, as she sprinted down the alley, away from the police sirens.

Seconds later, the police swarmed into the alley, guns drawn and aimed. Gavin turned to look at them, and nodded slightly. "Sorry for not raising my hands, fellas. But one won't work properly right now, and the other is keeping me from dying," he stated. "There's your boys, there, in the heap," he continued, nodding towards the five thugs. "And the weapons they used are here, next to me," he finished, nodding towards the pile of weapons.

~~~

Gavin leaned back against the hospital bed, resisting the urge to scratch the stitches. He glanced towards the visitors chair in the room, making sure, again, that his bag was still there. He sighed softly, as the door opened, and a nurse and two police officers entered. "Sorry to bother you, Mr. Clough. But these gentlemen need your statement, now that we've got you cleaned up and stitched back together," she stated.

Gavin nodded, and shifted himself, so he was sitting up further.

"So, what exactly happened?" asked one of the officers, as he lifted a clipboard and pen, staring at Gavin.

The man sighed softly, and cleared his throat. It was going to be a long night. After a long day. Ah well. He'd get his errands done eventually.