Work Text:
The television set perched in the corner of the room was old, the sound temperamental. Max could still clearly make out the roar of the crowd pictured on the tv's flickering screen. There was a man standing on stage before the crowd, his face red with passion, and his upper lip shinning with perspiration. He held out his hand, and the crowd's raucous cries gradually settled into a murmur.
"The future," he thundered, "is ours!"
An angry mutter rose in the far smaller group facing the television.
Max snorted in disgust, weaving through the room to flick off the tv. She turned around, hands on her hips, to face her followers--her crazy, ever-expanding *family*--and said: "So what if the future belongs to humanity? We're as human as anyone else."
Mole's scales shifted as he smiled, teeth sharp. "You sure about that, girl?"
"*Yes,*" Max said. "I'm as sure about that as I've ever been."