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Television made it look so much easier to break into a house.

Climbing up onto the garage roof wasn't too difficult, Marcus's lapine legs had plenty of strength to launch him up there. The problem was the window itself. The jackalope had figured he could just loosen a couple screws or something and the window would pop out. As his fingers traced the edge, he didn't see any screws at all. Nothing he could easily open up.

The anxious teen kept glancing through the glass, seeing if he was caught. The two panes were frosted, not allowing a clear view, but he could still make out shapes. The door was, mercifully, closed. That meant he'd at least have warning if Adrian was coming in. Marcus looked the window all over, hunting down any weak spot he could work on. In the center, where the panes came together, sat a latch. The panes were sliding glass.

"...I can work with that," Marcus said to himself, pulling out the largest of the screwdrivers he'd brought.

Befitting a home like Adrian Lucas's, the windows weren't cheap. There wasn't a lot of room between the panes and the gap they were fitted into. Fortunately, they also weren't the ultra heavy-duty security locks like the Lewises had back home. With a little work, Marcus managed to wedge the flat head of his screwdriver into the side, carefully prying. He worked slowly, slowly, carefully. He had all night, after all.

The teenage mind is not one known for patience, however, and after a minute or so of making little progress, Marcus put some of his weight into things. On the plus side, the window latch indeed pop loose and the pane slid open. On the minus side, it wasn't exactly silent. The noise was made even louder thanks to the isolation, and the trees just helped it echo. Marcus froze, his face tightened, jaw clenched. He had to be caught.

No sounds.

Even with no indication of motion from within, Marcus was hesitant. He stuck his head inside, his large ears perked, listening. When he was confident that he was safe to continue, he carefully crept into Adrian's home. He placed his feet on the tiled floor, gradually easing his weight down. Sneaking around a house was something he had some experience with, and he put it to use as he opened the bathroom door, letting his eyes adjust to the dark.

The chimera's house was modern, elegant, but not opulent. Rather than the sterile whites and design magazine decor, the House of Lucas was dark hardwood with ornate carved corners everywhere and paintings along the walls. The upper floor had few doors, making it difficult to know which one to enter. As Marcus tiptoed his way down the hallway, making himself conscious of every step to avoid creaks in the floor, he realized that it was also entirely possible the bedroom door would be locked. So the jackalope took the only action he could think of. Marcus pulled the gun out of his back pocket. He picked a door at random, grasped the knob, and gently, gently turned it.

"I know you're out there," a raspy voice suddenly called from within.

Marcus gasped, jumping back and nearly crashing into a small table. It took every bit of effort he could not to yelp out in surprise, but he kept himself quiet. He forced himself to breath without gasping, and didn't say a word.

"I just want you to know, I called the police," the voice continued. "So I hope whatever plans you have, they aren't going to take long."

The jackalope stared at the door as though it had been what spoke to him. He froze, tempted to flee. If he ran now, he could get his car and be long gone by the time the police arrived. This far out, he had at least a ten minute head start, probably more.

But he'd come too far to back out now.

Swallowing hard, Marcus grasped the doorknob in one hand and Aaron's pistol in the other. He eased the door open, stepping inside.

The bedroom, from what was visible with the lights off, was lavish without being gaudy. An oversized bed with an elegant bedframe as its centerpiece, undoubtedly exotic throw rugs on the floor, more art on the walls with subjects too obscured by the dark to see clearly. Marcus held the gun out in front of him, subconsciously mimicking what he'd seen police do in films. A form stood next to the bed, calmly, its arms folded behind its back and its attention towards him. Marcus stared at the creature, perplexed.

"...who are you?" he asked.

The form took a small breath. "Adrian Lucas. I figured you would be aware of that," he said, in that same rasp as before. "Though I suppose I'm not quite as... imposing in my current attire."

Whoever this was, it was not who Marcus had met at Heaven Hearts Hybrids. Adrian Lucas was powerfully built, with a thick mane atop his head and a loud voice. This animal was thin in the arms and shoulders, feeble almost, with nothing on his head but thin bits of fur. His voice sounded similar, but like it took quite a bit of effort to force the words out.

Marcus shook his head. "No you're not. Bullshit. I met Adrian Lucas the other day. You're not him."

The other creature laughed softly, which led to a cough. "Oh did you, now? I don't believe that's true. As much as you claim not to recognize me, I know for a fact I don't recognize you."

Marcus's eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, entering the room fully. A beam of moonlight pouring in through the window reflected from the gun in his hand, its presence proving enough of a jolt to get the creature talking.

"Whoa, okay, easy son," he said, his hands going up, defensively. "Forgive me for not having the foresight to get properly dressed before you showed up, but believe me when I say I am in fact Adrian Lucas."

It wasn't enough to convince Marcus Lewis. The jackalope stared at this animal, trying to put the pieces together. They moved in a faint ballet with one another, one stepping to the left and the other the right, keeping distance in the large room as best as they could. The light reached the other beast, bringing his features to the fore.

"I don't... I don't understand..." Marcus said, wavering.

His pelt was a mix of browns and dark greys. There were indeed antlers on his head. His face was what Marcus recalled, but the body was all wrong. Thin arms and chest, a slightly paunched belly. There were those scales on the backs of his hands and peeking around his shoulders, though...

Then something else caught the anxious teen's eye. A small tube, attached to the crook of one of those slim arms, running to a machine next to the bed, small lights blinking on the front of it that he'd not noticed before.

"...what the fuck are you?"

Adrian Lucas ran his tongue over his dry lips, still keeping his arms raised though it seemed to take a great deal of effort.

"I could say my name for a third time, but I've a feeling it wouldn't help," he said with a hint of dry humor. "Now, perhaps you could tell me who the fuck you are? It seems only fair that if you're going to be pointing a gun at me that I at least know your name."

Marcus took another step, watching Adrian's movements in response. The... whatever he was attempted to mirror the motion, only to be stopped as the line tethering him to the bedside machine went taut. The teen paused then, stepping forward towards the light, using his free hand to pull the hat off of his head. With the moon softly glowing down on him, the twin wounds atop his skull answered Adrian's question swiftly.

"You're that boy from the other day..." he said, mostly to himself as the realization dawned on him. "A bit of irony, that. The both of us meeting for a second time with our headwear removed."

It was an attempt at a joke, and one that fell flat upon delivery. Marcus's confused expression didn't show any hints of amusement, nor did the gun give signs of being lowered.

Adrian swallowed again, forcing dry spit down his throat. Keeping his hands visible, but lowered, he nodded towards the right wall of the room. "My mane is in there. Along with my body. Well, along with the body you're more familiar with. I realize a chimera is more impressive than a lowly goat and snake, but alas. This... is the real Adrian Lucas. Now, while this isn't quite what you were expec-"

"Shut up!!" Marcus yelled, his voice more shrill than he would have wanted. "You're just trying to waste time until the cops show up!"

"Okay, so you're not stupid," the older hybrid said with a hint of admiration. "But you're the one with the gun. If you don't tell me what you want, I don't know what else to say."

Marcus's eyes went all over the room. He didn't exactly come in knowing what he wanted. There had been this vague hope that simply getting inside the house would tell him what he needed, or at least point him in the right direction. The jackalope's gaze locked onto that odd machine.

"That. What is that?"

Adrian's head turned, as if he didn't know what Marcus might be referring to. "That, sad to say, is what's kept me alive all these years. I'm going to let you in on a little secret... Marcus, was it? Marcus, not every hybrid was born as lucky as you. Not every hybrid comes out healthy and strong. Most don't make it past a year or two. For others, we might survive, but it's a pathetic existence. I spent my childhood in and out of hospitals, having doctors tell me they weren't exactly sure why I was always sick. The sad fact is, my body, like many hybrids, is rejecting itself. My organs are incompatible with each other. My stomach cannot digest anything I put into it. My blood is in a constant attempt to cleanse itself while one half of my ancestry clashes with the other. This miraculous little device keeps me alive. You should be grateful, Marcus, that you don't need to spend your nights with tubes in your flesh to be able to wake up in the mornings."

The teen pulled a face, disgusted and disturbed. "What does it do?"

Adrian's jaw tightened. He wasn't in much of a mood to talk at length about his predicament, but seeing a handgun in the clutch of an unstable young hybrid made him keep talking.

"It's... a little like kidney dialysis, you see. My blood is pulled out through one, treated with the antibodies inside, and then pumped back into me through the other. Unfortunately, this is only a temporary fix. My body cannot learn to produce them itself, so I have to repeat the process daily. It is not what you'd call optimal, but I've no alternatives. It's only through the selflessness of donors that I've made it this far."

Marcus's attention went to the machine once again, staring at it. Following the lines from it to its patient. He'd stormed into Adrian Lucas's home expecting some kind of Hollywood showdown. Part of him thought there might be a fistfight, or armed guards. He was beginning to feel like he'd had his triumphant moment of heroism stolen from him, that he was the villain now. Still, something about it all sat uneasily in his stomach.

"But... why the whole disguise?" he asked. "Why pretend you're something else? What's with the act? Is that even your real name?"

The inelegant form of Adrian Lucas snorted. "I suppose the best way to explain it might be marketing. A sickly old mutant trying to espouse the virtues of adopting young hybrids would be a tough sell. Customers need to believe that the children they adopt can grow up to be big and strong. Unfortunately, reality is not quite so kind to us. Again, you should be glad. Not many survive long enough to find a family. You certainly look rather healthy. Do you play sports?"

The question threw Marcus. He frowned, his gun hand wavering. "...track. I do hurdles."

Adrian smiled. "Of course you do. Those lapine legs of yours are perfectly suited for it. I always wanted to play sports, but unfortunately even short bouts of exertion left me heaving for air and throwing up what little food I could manage to put down. I hope you can continue that through college. It might even get you a scholarship."

Marcus was feeling lost. The floor was turning into sand beneath his feet. He was losing his confidence rapidly, and the older hybrid picked up the change in demeanor.

"Now, would you mind putting the gun down, son? The police are on their way and the last thing either of us want is for you to have to explain why you shot a sick old man in his underwear."

For a moment, the shaken jackalope began to relent. His shoulder was burning, and he wasn't having that feeling of righteous vindication he was hunting for. Then, he remembered something.

"You lied about my mom."

"...pardon?" the not-chimera replied.

Marcus's face tensed. "You said my mom abandoned me at the front door."

Now it was Adrian's turn to be on the back foot. He seemed not to fully recall having said that, or at least not until being reminded.

"Ah. Well... yes, sometimes these things happen, Marcus. It's unfortunate, but at least she had the foresight to bring you somewhere where you c-"

"You're lying!" Marcus spat.

Adrian swallowed. "I've a feeling there's something you're not telling me."

Marcus took a hard breath, memories of that meeting replaying behind his eyes. "I found my mom. She said you sent some kinda doctor to run tests on her, paid her a ton of money, and told her not to try and contact me ever."

For the first time, Marcus saw fear in Adrian's eyes. True fear. Not the uneasy worry from before. He was having his lies exposed one by one, and the thought of that stabbed Adrian Lucas's heart more deeply than being harmed physically.

"Well... well, yes, I can understand your frustration..." the goat stammered. "But, but you have to understand, Marcus. That's a bitter pill to swallow, isn't it? That your mother callously sold you? Trading her own child for a check? I was hoping to protect you from that knowledge!"

"Ten thousand dollars!" Marcus yelled in response. "Ten fucking thousand dollars just to buy me? You said most don't make it a year! How the fuck can you afford that?"

Adrian's mouth began to form words, but no sound came out for several seconds. Marcus seized his opportunity to really hold the goat's feet to the fire.

"And you had some guy working at the harbor for you? That rabbit at the house said there's another facility?"

"Marcus, please, just listen..." Adrian interjected.

"If you want me to listen, start talking!"

"Marcus, okay, I understand this is all really confusing and probably more than a little shady sounding. I understand that," he said, putting his patronizing tone back on. "Heaven Hearts Hybrids is a complex business, and we really do only barely get by. It's why the fees on adoptions are so high. I get that you're feeling betrayed, and I shoulder some of that blame, but we both know you're not going to shoot..."

First, a loud pop sounded, paired instantly with the shatter of glass.

Adrian Lucas's entire body jolted, his head spinning to his left to see the remains of his bedroom window. It was the most acrobatic thing he'd done in some time. He turned to look back at Marcus, the smoking gun barrel, the jackalope's face a mixture of fury and confusion.

"Fuck!" he shouted, forcing a painful cough out to try and clear his voice again. The outburst surprised Marcus, the character of Adrian Lucas breaking. "What do you want? An apology? An apology because you didn't get some magical life with your adopted parents? That you weren't popular in school or go on dates with the prettiest girls? That's not my fault, Marcus! I gave you something you wouldn't have had without me! I gave you a chance! I found you a family who wanted you! Your mother was a drug addict who got knocked up after a one-night stand and she would have let you starve to death while she went to find another fix! I saved you!"

"You're lying!" Marcus seethed. "You took advantage of my mom because she was desperate! I just want to know why! Why are you doing all this? I don't understand how you can treat hybrids like fucking... products! Is it just the money? What?"

Adrian Lucas stood, as frozen as his ailing body allowed him to. That is, he neither moved his location nor said a word, but his hands quaked faintly from the effort of trying to keep them still held partway up. For once, the old goat was dumbstruck. He didn't have an answer for Marcus. At least, not an answer he was willing to divulge.

Marcus stared daggers at him, before his focus drifted.

Back to that machine.

"Marcus, son..." Adrian began, the moonlight just enough to let him see where the teen's gaze had shifted to.

"...antibodies," Marcus muttered to himself.

Jacob's mad rant rang in Marcus's ears. As did Aaron's words about him.

"Jacob ain't always wrong."

Slowly, Marcus pulled his aim to the right, pointing the barrel directly at the machine at Adrian's bedside.

"They're your donors."

Just saying the words made the jackalope's head spin. He remembered walking into the old house, being told about the children staying upstairs. How flustered that rabbit looked to see him. It all seemed slightly off. The lack of sounds from a home supposedly full of babies. The kitchen was so threadbare. It didn't even smell right. Too sterile. It reminded him of a doctor's office then more than a daycare.

"N... now hold on a moment, Marcus. Please, just listen to me,"

"You're... you're harvesting them for their blood? You're killing children to keep yourself alive?"

Suddenly Adrian Lucas's demeanor changed. That fear in his face turned to anger. A desperate, sick anger. If he'd actually had any lion in his genes, the snarl might have been intimidating, but it left him looking more pathetic than anything.

"I'm not killing them!!" he barked. "The... the process can be... rather traumatic, yes. As much as it pains me to say, many don't survive, but please understand, most of them wouldn't anyway! I give them a chance at life, and even the little ones who are lost... at least their lives did something! They live on, through me!"

Marcus's stomach was turning. The self-importance. The delusions of grandeur. Everything was going wrong.

"That's not a chance!" the teen spat back. "You... you're a monster..."

"I am not a monster!!" Adrian Lucas howled, hard enough that he went into another coughing fit. He croaked miserably, panting. "Don't you dare call me that. I'm doing what I have to. Don't you think for a moment that I don't understand the enormity of my actions. That their deaths don't weigh on my shoulders."

Marcus's teeth clenched. His eyes were starting to tear up, and the static was sounding. The adrenaline was surging through his veins. He stared at this animal before him, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"What makes you think your lives are worth more than theirs?"

Adrian shook his head slowly. "Marcus, you stupid boy. You don't understand a thing. No lives are worth more than others. The most basic instinct in any animal is the same. Survival at all costs. It's not survival of the fittest. It's survival of the powerful. I have the means to sustain my life, why would I give that up? And along the way, I'm able to offer the strongest of us a chance at something better. Some I can find right here. Some I bring from overseas. Over the years, I've made enough connections that I can find hybrids like us all over the world. Most of them would be dying in hospital beds in some shithole third world country. I bring them here, and either their brief life has some semblance of meaning, or they have an opportunity to thrive. Like you.

"This isn't throwing a screaming child into a fucking volcano in the hopes of appeasing some god into granting us a better harvest! Their sacrifice MATTERS, can't you see that? And then, the strong ones, the ones who make it, they don't have to live in poverty, in ghettos like all those pathetic slugs out there. I manage to sustain this business by getting those with more money than sense to pay top dollar for hybrids like us. Don't you see? We all help each other! Their money keeps me able to rescue those unwanted children, so they can help keep me alive another day, and then by the grace of the gods I can help them find a family that they wouldn't have had otherwise! I've given you a better life than you could have ever hoped for! And in turn, you gave me more life than my doctors told me I could have."

Marcus's jaw went slack. The realization struck him like a sledgehammer. He'd been in the system as well.

Adrian nodded once. "Yes. Little Marcus kindly donated some of himself to keep Uncle Adrian alive. And I've never forgotten that. In gratitude, I made sure you had a family. You can't blame me if they weren't perfect. I did my best. What would you have without me?"

The jackalope sniffed angrily.

"My mother."

For several seconds, jackalope and goat-snake stood, eyes locked on each other.

Adrian Lucas's hands lowered a bit more, unable to keep them fully up. "So what now? Are you going to shoot me?"

Marcus shook his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "No... you're going to confess. You're going to tell everything," he said, pointing the camera at the sickly old hybrid.

Adrian's eyes went to the phone, then Marcus again. "If you expose me... I'm as good as dead anyway. I won't last a month without my treatment. At best. I wouldn't even make it to trial."

"It's not about you. I don't give a fuck about you," Marcus said, opening the camera. "It's about them."

Adrian's entire face screwed up, his features uglier than ever. "If you care about them, you'll put that phone away and pretend this never happened. If you destroy Heaven Hearts Hybrids, all those little children will go back to being thrown in dumpsters and drowned in batht-"

Another shot rang out, this one hitting the wall next to Adrian's bed, inches away from the machine. Whether the miss was intentional or not, Adrian couldn't say.

"You're treating hybrids like science experiments for yourself, and then selling them like they're fucking fancy watches. You're only helping yourself, you fucking monster. Start talking."

Adrian glared at Marcus. At the camera lens. He pulled in a breath, and began.

"My name is Adrian Lucas. At least, that's the name you know..."

Marcus's strength was failing him, so he dropped the gun down to the floor. It wasn't like Adrian was going to sprint at him and take it. He was quite literally tied to his bedside even if he did have the physical strength to do so. Hearing the story a second time was somehow worse than the first. Adrian, who had gone by Lucas Miller in his youth, spoke of it all like a dry business rundown. The overseas sellers, connections to the hospitals. How he kept everything off of the record so there was no need to explain the high fatality rates. His own illness.

The blinking lights of police interrupted the confession, both Marcus and Adrian turned their heads to look at the broken window, seeing the officers gathering by the front door. One knocked, calling inside.

"They're here, son. It's over."

When Adrian looked back, Marcus Lewis had vanished.

Marcus exited the same way he'd come in. The layout of Adrian's home meant he could escape from the garage rooftop towards the side of the house and then dart into the trees without being seen. He ran through, his legs going until they were burning and his lungs spat out the taste of blood. He ran with all of the anxiety and adrenaline fueling him that he'd spent the last fifteen minutes desperately restraining.

While he ran, the only thing that interrupted him was the sound of a third gunshot. The sudden pop made him stumble, nearly losing his phone in the process. He whipped around, staring back at where he'd come, his long ears perked up, listening to see if he was being followed.

When there was nothing, he made his way to his car, still hidden behind that old gas station, and quickly drove back into Boston proper. He played no music, and drank out of the bottle he'd had in his bag, unconcerned about getting pulled over. He had to move. He had to get away from where he was.

By the time Marcus arrived back in the main strip, his heart had managed to at least slow down enough that the pressure in his throat wasn't making it hard for him to see. He went to the police station, phone in hand. This was his chance. He was going to show the world what Adrian Lucas had done. He was going to prove that his suspicions were right. There was something terrible going on that had kept hidden. Even Jacob would be getting a little vindication.

Or at least, he would have, if the place was open. Marcus stood at the locked from door of the Boston Police Department, leaning forward and hitting his head against it in frustration. That was fine, though. That was no problem. He had his evidence.

Marcus took a deep breath, starting the walk back to his car. Right now, more than anything, he needed to find a place to sleep. Even if it meant right in his driver's seat. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.