---
The grease trap needed cleaning again.
Chris stared at it with the kind of resigned disgust that came from five years of fast-food management. Twenty-six years old. Bachelor's degree gathering dust. Dreams of something more fading with each passing day.
This wasn't the plan.
"Chris, you got a minute?"
Sandra peered around the corner. Shift supervisor. Good person. Constantly putting out fires.
"We got a situation up front."
There was always a situation.
Usually involving the new "Supernatural Specials" menu. Raw meat options for werewolves. Blood-infused shakes for vampires. Corporate's attempt at inclusion that had become a logistical nightmare.
Chris wiped his hands. Headed to the counter.
A middle-aged man stood red-faced, pointing at Derek. One of their lycanthrope employees. Nineteen. Working to pay for community college. Good kid.
"I don't want that thing touching my food! I want a human to remake my order!"
Derek stood frozen. Fear in his eyes. The look of someone who'd heard it all before.
Chris's decision was instant.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
---
"Discrimination? Against monsters?" The customer's voice rose. "You're choosing them over paying human customers?"
"I'm choosing basic decency. Your refund will be at the register. Please leave."
The man stormed out. Slurs trailing behind him like exhaust fumes.
Chris checked on Derek. Made sure he was okay. Then retreated to the office.
His hands were shaking.
Not from confrontation. He'd gotten used to those. But from exhaustion. Pure, bone-deep exhaustion from navigating a world split between species.
His phone buzzed.
*Can we talk tonight? I've been thinking...*
Jenna.
Chris's stomach clenched. They'd been on a "break" for two months. She needed space to figure things out. Translation: deciding if a fast-food manager was beneath her new marketing job.
*Sure. After my shift? 11 PM?*
*Actually, Tom's having a party tonight. Why don't you come? We can talk there.*
Tom.
Of course.
Tom with his tech startup. His loft apartment. His ability to make Chris feel like a failure just by existing.
*I'll try to make it.*
---
The rest of the shift crawled by.
Two more customer complaints about supernatural employees. A delivery truck three hours late because the driver "didn't feel safe" in a mixed-species neighborhood. Corporate sending another tone-deaf email about "embracing diversity" while offering no actual support.
By the time Chris clocked out, he smelled like fryer oil and defeat.
He almost went home. His empty apartment. Half of Jenna's things still in boxes by the door.
Instead, he drove to Tom's.
---
The party was everything he expected.
Tom's loft pulsed with music and bodies. A mix of humans and supernaturals that only the wealthy could achieve. Integration was easier when you had money. When you could afford security. When supernatural strength was an interesting party trick rather than a threat.
Chris found Jenna on the balcony. Perfect in a dress he'd never seen. Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
"You came."
"You asked me to."
They talked in circles for twenty minutes. She was doing well at work. He was thinking about applying to management programs. They missed each other but maybe needed more time.
The conversation felt like CPR on a corpse.
"Chris! My man!"
Tom appeared. Expensive cologne. Casual confidence. Pressed a beer into Chris's hand.
"Glad you could make it. Hey, you've got to check this out."
Before Chris could protest, Tom was leading them inside. To a bedroom. A small group huddled around a coffee table.
Chris recognized the setup immediately.
Someone was dealing.
---
"It's called Chance."
Tom gestured to small vials filled with amber liquid.
"Completely new. Gives humans temporary supernatural abilities. Like being a werewolf without the fur and fangs."
A woman Chris didn't recognize was preparing a syringe.
"I tried it last weekend. It's incredible. You feel powerful. Fast. Invincible. Like you could take on the world."
"Perfectly safe," the dealer added. Thin man. Nervous eyes. "Based on the lycanthropy vaccine. Same infection risk as a flu shot. Basically zero. The high lasts about six hours."
Jenna touched Chris's arm. "Maybe we should go."
But Chris was transfixed.
How many times had he been passed over for promotions because companies preferred supernatural employees? How many times had he felt weak, inadequate, less-than in a world where others could lift cars?
"How much?"
"First hit's free." The dealer smiled. "If you like it, we can talk price."
"Chris, no." Jenna's voice was sharp. "You don't know what's in that."
She was right.
It was stupid. Dangerous.
But Tom was watching with that smirk. And Jenna was looking at him like he was something fragile. And he was so tired of feeling powerless.
"Just once. To try it."
---
The needle went in smooth.
For a moment, nothing.
Then—
Fire. Ice. Lightning.
Every nerve ending sparked at once. The world sharpened like someone had turned up the resolution on reality. He could hear conversations three rooms away. Smell individual perfumes and colognes. Feel the vibrations of footsteps through the floor.
Then the strength hit.
Chris looked at his hands. Flexed fingers that suddenly felt capable of crushing stone. The chronic ache in his lower back—five years of standing—vanished. Energy surged through him like he'd mainlined pure potential.
"Holy shit."
"Right?" Tom grinned. "Changes everything."
It did.
---
For six hours, Chris was more than human.
He arm-wrestled a werewolf and won. Ran alongside traffic on the way home, keeping pace with cars. Jumped from his third-floor fire escape and landed like it was nothing.
He was a god.
Then it wore off.
The crash was brutal. Every muscle screamed. His enhanced senses collapsed back to normal so fast it left him nauseated.
And worse—he felt hollow.
Like someone had shown him what he could be, then ripped it away.
He called in sick the next day. Spent it in bed, shaking. Not from withdrawal—not yet.
From want.
From need.
By evening, he was texting Tom.
*Your dealer. What's his number?*
Just to feel normal again, he told himself. Just to get through work tomorrow.
Just once more.
Just once more.
---