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The new anomaly comes in with three others like it - a pack, proof that social bonds do exist in the long-thought-to-be-solitary Burnish. This one is a male - although Junior Researcher Galo Thymos still isn’t sure if they perceive gender or even biological sex the same way that people do - and so were three of the others that came in with him. The last one - the runt - is a female and much younger than the others, barely out of her puppy teeth. He pauses midway through his notes, taken meticulously with pen and paper instead of on his tablet, in the event of an errant government hacker - is puppy the right word for a sleek, black creature that looks more machine than animal, wriggling like a solid mass of glistening oil and curly reddish fur on the stainless steel exam table before him? She looks more like a predatory monster of old, something medieval knights would have slain with swords and daggers like a dragon, with her rows upon rows of serrated teeth, snapping closed on only air around her highlighter-yellow tongue, which almost seems to glower and glow like a neon sign on a Vegas strip even in the bright lights of the lab. She’s the size of a fully-grown mastiff and could probably rend his head off his shoulders with a single flick of her powerful elongated neck.
And she’s still not much more than a baby.
Far more intimidating is the other Burnish, bound to the opposite exam table with chains forged from some newfangled heatproof material that Galo doesn’t remember the name of. This one is the smallest of the males that came in late last night, when the pack was plucked up from a deserted midnight highway not far from the facility, dangerously close to civilization. But, he’s still nearly the size of a horse, a sleek black body that glistens like an oil slick set on long strong legs accented with glowering lines of bright white, slender body terminating in a lengthy prehensile tail that Galo knows from experience can crack like a whip, breaking bones on impact. He hates to imagine the damage the big one - red and black, densely muscled, and bigger than the biggest bull - could deal to someone. And yet, although the other two males are much larger and more active, so much so that both of them had to be locked up in cells and chains right away, too violent to be handled by the staff without sedation, this one seems to be, for all intents and purposes, their leader.
Galo spares the strange male a glance, where he lays still and silent in his chains, seated on his belly on the cool stainless steel with his head raised, watching intently as Galo examines the little female. The Burnish have no eyes to speak of, only slight indents in their smooth black faces where their eyes should theoretically be, but Galo knows perfectly well by now that they can still see. Their vision functions like thermoimaging, and their hearing, despite also lacking any apparent ears, is unparalleled, as is their sharp sense of smell. He knows that the Burnish is watching him closely. He can feel the air grow a few degrees warmer each time he touches the little female; he knows that the other Burnish is tense despite his apparent calm.
Galo checks and double-checks his notes, then nods to himself and sets his clipboard and pen down on the counter behind him. The little female is in excellent health and can be moved to her new enclosure shortly - as soon as he draws some blood. She’s been so well-behaved the entire time, despite some of the usual wriggling and whining, that he protested and shrugged it off when Vulcan tried to muzzle her after he dropped her and the strange male off for their exams. She had shown no signs of aggression and hadn’t snapped or growled at him at all.
He immediately regrets it when he turns around with the 18-gauge needle and is met with a shrill yelp of fear, with which comes a belch of searing-hot, pink-and-teal fire that instantly engulfs his left arm. He cries out - it hurts, but only for an instant, before it burns straight down to the nerves and he can feel the pain no more - and scrambles for the emergency fire blanket. He drags the heavy wool quilt out of the nearest cabinet and drops it on his arm, frantically patting it until the flames quickly suffocate. It was over in an instant - but it had felt like hours in that moment, when he was faced with the sight of his own skin peeling away from muscle and tendon as it burned, his nose full of the sickly-sweet stink of burning flesh.
He exhales in relief when the last dredges of smoke emerge from the blanket, signifying that the fire is out. He doesn’t dare pry the edges of the blanket back to look at his arm; he doesn’t think he could bear to look at it even though it’s something he’s seen many times before. It’s different when it’s on yourself.
Fortunately, the little female has stilled, cowering on her belly on the exam table with her long tail tucked tightly between her legs and trembling. She could have easily launched a second successive attack that melted the features clean off of his face - or worse. He regards her for a moment - with pity, not contempt. This was his fault for leaving her unmuzzled. She was afraid and she defended herself the only way she knew how. He’s already thumbing through excuses in his brain, wondering how he’s going to convince Dr. Foresight to spare her. Burnish who are willing to attack people are usually eradicated right away.
A gut-twisting snarl suddenly reaches Galo through the haze of his thoughts.
He turns and sees that other Burnish is no longer maintaining his quiet vigil. He’s writhing in his chains, jaws bound tautly closed in an industrial-strength muzzle, hackles raised and muscles tensed as he bares his teeth and growls. It’s a deep, throaty sound and a clear threat.
Don’t hurt her.
Galo thinks he hears the words, but then decides that it was his own subconscious. When he speaks, his voice is a soothing purr, whispering softly, “Shhh...it’s okay. You’re okay. She’s okay. We’re all okay. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt your friend.”
The Burnish just looks at him, with his neck held stiff and straight; even with the muzzle on, his slender snout is scrunched up with a snarl, nostrils flaring angrily. Even the indents where his eyes should have been seem narrower, like he was squinting disdainfully. His tail lashes back and forth behind him, rather like an irritated cat’s, but Galo knows that it’s actually swinging to and fro to build momentum before it cracks down on the nearest surface - probably Galo’s dumb head, if the Burnish had his way about it. Galo pointedly double-checks that he’s out of range before he glances back at the little female, cooing as sweetly as he can despite the bile rising in his gut at the lingering stench of his own burning flesh, adrenaline still thrumming hot in his veins.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, shhh…,” Galo croons, glancing around for the needle and attached blood bag and finding it on the floor under the exam table. He must have dropped it when she burned him; he stoops down to get it and quickly backs away, checking that she isn’t gearing up for round two before he drops it into the sharps container. He won’t be drawing that blood today, not when his patient is already very upset and has successfully melted his non-latex glove to his left hand. He should be seeking emergency medical attention right now, but he figures that the burn isn’t getting any worse - and he doesn’t have the heart to leave her when she’s clearly terrified. “Hey, do you want a treat? You were so good during your check-up!”
The Burnish clearly doesn’t know what a ‘treat’ is, and why would she? There were no treats in the wild, not ones that she didn’t have to catch herself, and he’s sure they’re not half as tasty as the cellophane-wrapped Hostess Twinkie he rummages around for in one of his cabinet drawers. He keeps a stash of them hidden beneath his manila folders and letter envelopes, after finding out that most Burnish have a secret sweet tooth. He pulls one out, tearing open the wrapper with one hand, and carefully places it on the edge of the exam table, right where she can reach it even with the heavy chain around her neck.
The little female finally stops shivering. She sniffs, craning her long neck out as far as it can go to poke the strange cylindrical sponge cake with her snout. Her nostrils flare; Galo wonders if it smells weird to her, like artificial sweeteners and way too many preservatives. But, she must deem it edible either way, because her long yellow tongue flicks out to taste it, before she carefully takes it into her mouth and swallows it whole. She seems to consider it for a moment, then that yellow tongue flicks around her nonexistent lips and dagger teeth, satisfied. She seems to have accepted his apology for trying to poke her with a rather large needle.
Satisfied, Galo nods, when a searing-hot huff of air down the back of his neck promptly reminds him that they’re not alone in the exam room. It’s accompanied by a growl that makes him flinch; apparently, the small male doesn’t forgive so easily, his earlier calm now replaced by scorching anger as he thrashes hard in his binds and snarls again. Galo frowns; he can see where the tight-fitting muzzle is digging into the Burnish’s snout, the metal leaving angry impressions in the smooth obsidian hide. The muzzles are suffocatingly tight by design, preventing the Burnish from opening their mouths and spouting angry flames during procedures. A necessary evil, Dr. Foresight always said.
Galo’s body moves faster than his brain does and, before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s stepping forward and unhooking the muzzle, unclipping one side and then the other before carefully pulling it away from the Burnish’s snout. To his credit, the Burnish seems just as surprised as he does, staring blankly down at him as he slowly flexes his jaws. He inhales deeply, teeth parting and showing a glimpse of his bright-white tongue, then exhales a trickle of smoke. For once, Galo is relieved that the smoke detector in his lab was never repaired after the last incident, or that one puff of smoke would’ve sent Vulcan and all his cronies running. Maybe he shouldn’t be relieved, he thinks for a moment when he suddenly remembers that he can’t feel his arm from his bicep to his wrist and that this larger Burnish could easily finish the job that his smaller friend started, but for some reason, he feels like the small male won’t hurt him. Galo had thought him strange when he first saw him for a reason - he was quiet, usually calm, and eerily non-aggressive. Whereas his companions had come in snapping and snarling, he was quiet and still, going easily into his holding pen until Galo’s shift started that morning and he could properly examine him.
It turns out, Galo is right - the Burnish makes no move to bite or burn him, instead remaining in place on the exam table with only an inquiring tilt of his head. Galo senses the burning question behind those eyeless indentations in the Burnish’s face and answers honestly, “You’re not going to hurt me. You could, but you’re choosing not to.”
The Burnish lifts his head, shifting his eyeless gaze to the other Burnish, who is now seated on her haunches on her own steel table. Galo follows his gaze and shakes his head. “No, she didn’t mean to. She was scared. I scared her. It was an accident, right?”
The slender head rises and falls in what can only be a nod.
Somehow, Galo isn’t surprised. “You understand me, don’t you?”
Another nod.
“How much do you understand?” Galo asks. He’s curious how the Burnish will answer a question that isn’t a simple yes or no, but what he doesn’t expect is for the Burnish to speak.
Everything.
“W-Whoa,” Galo stutters. He can’t conceal his surprise. “You can speak.”
Indeed I can.
“The other Burnish can’t do that.”
They can. They just choose not to.
“Oh. Why?”
No point. Your people won’t listen.
“Then, why are you talking to me, huh?”
You’re different.
“Huh?”
Don’t worry about it, Galo Thymos.
“You know my name?”
Of course. It’s on your badge.
“You can read?” Galo reaches for his clipboard and pen when he promptly remembers that he can’t hold it while he writes with one arm disabled, so he reluctantly decides to leave it. He’ll just put it in his report later - this is information he doubts he’ll be forgetting any time soon even without writing it down.
Can’t you?
“Well, yeah, but...how? Where did you learn?”
I have to keep some of my secrets, don’t I?
Galo thinks he detects a hint of something smug in that gravelly-deep voice this time. He scoffs. “Fine, don’t tell me. But, how about you give up the secret as to why you and your pack were so close to town last night? People would freak out if they saw you, you know!”
That’s no secret. We were coming here.
Galo quirks a brow. He’s yet to see the cruelty of this place, but he doesn’t know why an anomaly would purposefully want to be here, either. “Here? Why?”
Easy. You have the rest of our pack, Galo Thymos.
“Oh, the other Burnish? You were coming to get them?” Galo asks like it isn’t obvious.
Would you come to rescue your family if they were in danger?
“Yeah, of course,” Galo says, “but the Burnish here aren’t in any danger. We take care of ‘em.”
The Burnish doesn’t need eyes for Galo to realize he’s being fixed with a blank stare. The tail that had been twitching suddenly goes still.
You can’t be serious.
“Well...yeah, of course I am,” Galo says innocently, “We’re not hurting the Burnish here.”
You’re not hurting the Burnish here. But you don’t speak for everyone. Where did you think the others were getting their wounds while you’re away? What did you think happened to the ones who disappear?
“They passed away from natural causes,” Galo says defensively, voice growing steadily louder with anger and tension, “and those wounds are from interspecies fights for dominance. That’s why you guys have horns.”
The Burnish scoffs.
You talk a lot for someone who knows nothing about us Burnish.
“Okay, smartass,” Galo retorts, lower lip pooched out in a pout now. He tries to cross his arms, but promptly decides against it, instead cradling his injured one to his chest in its tight-fitting black shirt. “What don’t I know, exactly? I’m about to be the head researcher on this species of anomaly!”
Why don’t you ask Kray Foresight?
The ice in the Burnish’s voice sends a shudder down Galo’s spine - or maybe the adrenaline is finally wearing off and his body is finally reacting to the shock of his burn.
Don’t talk to me like you know us. You know nothing. Come back to me when you’re ready to listen. And don’t you dare lay a single finger on Thyma.
Galo takes a moment to process that sentence before something clicks, glancing back at the other Burnish over his shoulder, where she’s still listening intently. “Thyma? Is that her name?”
Yes.
“And...what about you? What’s your name?”
Why do you need to know?
Galo scoffs disbelievingly. “It’s only fair! You know mine!”
The Burnish laughs. It’s unexpectedly beautiful and, in that moment, Galo Thymos suddenly realizes that nothing will ever be the same.
I am Lio of the pack Fotia.