Protect and Serve Shifting Forces by Cassidy McKay Page B

denim. Awash with unreasonable lust, I shake my head, forcing the desire back. “No way. Not her, not now.”
    I fight against my conscience, my innate sense of order battling with the instincts of my kind. I have nothing to offer her, no way to win against the horde determined to kill the humans, or the military determined to kill everyone.
    Against my will, I feel the fiery burn. The rush of adrenaline flows through me -- scintillating, arousing, and powerful. My bones shift, transforming arms into wings, flesh into fire, and common sense into passionate fury. Lifting into the sky with a rush -- one word, one thought, one feeling -- consumes me:
    Mine !

Kender’s Blog (2)
     
    I’m Kender Russell. Been in the military since I turned eighteen, and I’ve made it my career. Turns out I’m good at killing. Paras, normals, shifters, whatever needs dead, I’m all over it. I kind of have a taste for it, I guess.
    Most of the guys in my unit think I’m normal , like them. By that, they mean human. But I’m not. There’s a few of us paranormals who’ve kept under wraps. I’m a gryphon shifter. Yep, eagle front half, lion back half -- wings, tail. I’ve got the whole gryphon package. But nobody here knows that. Kind of like that old “don’t ask, don’t tell” bullshit. They didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell.
    We fight against the scum who slink into the darkest parts of the cities. Crime rate’s gotten so bad it’s chased people out into the rural areas. The humans thought they’d be safe out there. Just makes them easier targets. And the abandoned cities? Well, paranormals have been on the outskirts long enough.
    When we first started mixing with humans openly, those in positions of power started passing laws. Small ones at first, slipping subtle things in with popular, vote-getting bills against crime and corruption. Most people were too frightened of their own shadows at that point to read the fine print. They just wanted someone to take over and clean up the mess. I can understand that, it’s a normal response. But now the politicians are using those laws against us. Paranormals are considered “the mess” and we have to fight to survive.
    Some of us are fighting for equal rights. Same story throughout history, I’m afraid. If you have money, it’s the rebel thing to do -- to come out as a paranormal. We have politicians, high-society, celebrities, and successful business people among us. It’s a lark for them, and having money cures a lot of ills.
    But it’s bad being a paranormal if you aren’t rich or famous. Then you’re pissed on, shut out, and forced into places and situations that only get worse when the government declares war against you. The outlaws in the cities we clear out didn’t all start bad, and they’re not all paras. But when you have no other choice, you have to survive somehow.
    I made my choice. It’s the same choice a lot of us make. I hide what I am and pass as a normal in the military. I do what they tell me to, and I fight who they tell me to. I kind of like eating, and not being hunted. Yeah, not being hunted is good. I hate having to hide who and what I am, but a guy’s gotta live, right?
    “Okay everyone, file out! On your guard, you know what we’re up against.” Sergeant Turner’s voice grates over the troop, loud over the transport truck’s engine. My legs are cramped from riding so long, but I feel my adrenaline ramping up. It washes the piddly shit away and clears my brain for more important things. Like keeping my ass alive.
    “Holy shit, will you look at that?” A fellow soldier stares down the street, his eyes wide. He points to the square, where a small group of people huddle against a wall, surrounded by a couple of cops with battered riot shields. “They’re in trouble.”
    The rogues we’re here to evict roar out of the buildings in a disgusting stream of fucked-up mutants. I look back at the sergeant, hoping he’ll bypass orders. I know what