Not necessarily relevant.

"Okay, doc, I'm sure you've had to operate in far worse conditions than this." MacKenzie said, closing the blinds to the small hotel room. "Bright side, you shouldn't have to do any surgery. But you're the most discrete and well-trained that I could find..."

The doc looked a bit pityingly, "I'm here as a favor. I won't say to whom; neither will you. But usually, if a man needs a veterinarian, and there's no animal, he's trying to get a bullet wound treated and has seen far too many crime dramas... and not nearly enough first aid training. If you don't need me for surgery, what do you need?"

MacKenzie finished fiddling with the blinds, locking the door... and turned to the doc. "Well, I'm the patient."

"Naturally."

"Right, right... um. Ok, this isn't easy for me. I'm not..." The small, swarthy man stopped fidgeting, and flexed... growing a couple inches, a couple breasts, and a very fine figure. "Human." He... she? MacKenzie spoke with a softer, more melodious voice... though all of the anxiety remained.

"Holy... shit! How... what?" The doc dropped his case, composure, and into a chair.

"Yeah. I know. I'm some kind of shape-shifter. I guess." She held up an arm and bent it in ways no bones can tolerate, and grew a few thumbs, then a lot of hair, and finally shook it back to a more photogenic appearance. "As far as I know, my folks were human. I had a very happy childhood for the first twelve years... but that's beside the point."

"I..." The doc blinked a bit. "Okay, you're... maybe human, but not... okay, why me?"

"Well, I've got an itch, and I was wondering if it could be some kind of allergic reaction... or if I need to take an antibiotic... or antifungal. I mean, I guess it could be some form of jock itch."

"I mean," through gritted teeth, "Why me? If this isn't some trick or hallucination, you are not human, and should be studied for..." He stopped and blinked a bit. "I just answered my own question, didn't I?"

"I'd rather avoid dissection. It's pretty much the definition of a last resort. I suggested a veterinarian, because... well, I could be some form of alien, and you'd be the closest thing to a practicing xenobiologist. Of course, I also happen to be something you or anyone with a PhD would love to molest in the name of science. So, in addition to you needing to stay on the good side of our mutual friend, I'm going to make sure I leave here looking like this." She posed, showing off her altered physique. "And a private investigator friend of mine will have some nice photos to show to your wife."

"This is just to keep you honest, alright? Nothing personal, just... I am putting my life in your hands, and, well, if you can't handle a patient that can cripple you for life, you've no business working with horses either." The 'woman' removed her t-shirt and jeans. "Now the affected area is right here." She gestured to a patch of skin with an assortment of welts.

"Ah. I... erm." The doctor leaned in to look. "You are probably the second most distracting patient I've ever... hmm."

"I could turn into someone else? Still going to leave like this. Or I won't fit in the dress I picked out."

"Well, I don't know what it is just by looking. Let me get some swabs of this, a bit of blood..." He sighed. "Christ, this is why I never went into biological research."

"Blackmail from shapeshifters?"

"No." He ticked off items on his fingers, "I don't know: what you are; what can cause this; what can grow on you; what you're allergic to; or even if there's a medication that is safe to use on you."

"Ah." She wiggled her way into a tight red dress. "At least you're handling this pretty well."

"Er, I suppose? I'm just trying to ignore the implications for now. But... why are you getting dressed? I need to swab those welts if I'm going to study anything."

MacKenzie handed the doc a large envelope. "Blood drawn early this morning. There's a urine sample there too. And you can probably guess what's on the cotton swabs in the little baggie." The vials of fluid clinked within as the doctor opened the envelope.

"Ah, good. Hopefully that will be enough blood. Um. Right. You know how to get in touch with me if symptoms progress. Not sure what I'll do, exactly, but as long as you don't melt, I suppose I'm better than nothing. How do I get in touch if I find anything?"

"I left a number in there too." MacKenzie primped a bit in a mirror, adjusting the length of her hair. "After you've had a chance to check the bloodwork, I'll submit to a more thorough examination."

The doc looked at her, and at the envelope. "Ah. Yes. I... guess you thought this out in advance."

"I had to. Like I said, I really do not want to end up dissected. And, hey, if you tell... well, it's about as believable as saying you had a sasquatch in for arthritis."

The doc left shortly after MacKenzie. And waved at the PI with the camera.

Three days later, the doc called the number.

"MacKenzie." A man's voice answered. "Good news?"

"I guess. I assume you're certain you provided the samples. Everything came back pretty normal. Type A- blood, human. Normal cholesterol levels, even."

"Right... I assume it's not my diet that's the issue?"

"Well, it'll be more important later. See, the white cell count was normal too. Can't be an infection or an allergic reaction if the immune system isn't involved. Have you encountered any nausea?"

"Not really, why?"

"Morning sickness. See, the urine did come up positive on a pregnancy test. And the swabs have rather a lot of estrogen." The doc droned on a bit about other things he tried to test with what he had. "I really hope you don't expect me to be a midwife..."

"No. No... I... shouldn't need you for that. Just... I'm going to need some time to digest this."

"I'll bet. Figure the reason it turned into a rash is that it had to go somewhere when you turned male... hopefully, you can work it back into a better spot for the remainder of gestation. Anyway, you know where to get me if anything comes up." And the doc hung up the phone.

The veterinarian grinned, and dumped the unopened vials from the envelope into a trash bin. "Sheesh. No payment, threaten my marriage... and I'm supposed to risk these samples in a lab? Suck my malpractice." After lighting the contents on fire behind his clinic, he touched his wedding band thoughtfully.

"So, that's when you first realized the world had superpowers and started using them yourself?"

"Hell no. From my perspective, my adrenaline kicked in, traffic slowed for the two... well, three idiots in the road, and I tuned out the sounds of the city to run."

"Ah, yeah. Most people have trouble remembering details in a fight, or traffic accident."

"Nah. It's hard to observe everything. You never really forget, and you never know what was going on the way someone watching from the sidelines might. But that's my opinion."

"Your opinion as the... Overlord of humanity?"

"Heh. Sure. But anyway, from my perspective..."

-----------------------------------------------------

I ran down the street, and thought "Oh, wait, I might be getting in the way of that trained policeperson... or whatever. Then again, that means I'm ahead, and... gaining." I learned a few things in the next few minutes. I learned that having no combat training, and jumping a guy who's running for his life... is as bad an idea as it sounds.

I tried grabbing his shoulder and pulling him backwards to the ground. He grabbed my arm and pulled forwards... and I tripped, he dragged me bodily for a bit, and then his bag got under the wheel of a passing car. He let go of it and started punching me in the face.

I grabbed his wrist, tried to get my feet under me, tried to throw him off balance... tried not to fall under the cars that I suddenly realized weren't actually stopping where they could be dented...

Then a bolo whipped around us, calling a merciful end to the pummelling, and adding bruises to my bruises that used to be ribs. The man I was now bound to, after a moment, stopped, and screamed in my face. Which seemed rude, but it made a lot of sense when the minivan caught me in the rear.

Getting down from the roof of a building is not fun. I'm sure there was supposed to be a ladder going down to the fire escape. Finding the spot where it had once been bolted in place justified the belief, but did nothing to create a way down that didn't involve landing on a dubious metal balcony in a concrete chasm.

Still, my cellphone didn't seem to be able to get 911 on the horn. So... jump, attract attention, or try to break into the stairwell without any tools. Last I checked, my fingernails don't hold up against steel. And attracting a rescue would involve someone asking how I got up here. Yeah, raving about a hole in the sky dropping me here might get me on a talkshow, but only after a holding cell of some sort.

Basic fire safety, if you have to drop, lower yourself, hang by the arms... and pretend it's not going to hurt.

*clang*... *creak* Creak? Did this just creak? *crack* Oh... shiiiit.

The building started backing away from the inevitable accident. The one across the alley decided to come over to give me a hug. Some primitive tree-climbing instinct sent me scurrying for the ladder, and wrapping my limbs in the bars. The railing struck the far building, and bent in the space I had been standing. This didn't last long, before the whole mess started to... slide.

I realized the fire escape had peeled away from its building. I realized it was now falling... kinda slowly. And loudly, with a sparking, screeching sound like a woman stepping in battery acid. No, that was me. The metal jungle gym was going for an iron version of fingernails on a chalkboard. I held on, afraid to let go and have the whole mess crush me. It leaned, groaned... and I shut my eyes, trying to keep my grip as the mess slammed into a window, and twisted, before sliding again.

Of course, when my perch came to a stop, it had landed partially in the road. I opened my eyes to see a semi... honking, and practically close enough to touch. I let go of the ladder, falling a foot, banging my knee, and running for the sidewalk. As I looked back, I realized the semi was stopped. It went around my inadvertent roadblock, and the driver gave me a very enthusiastically rude gesture.

As the adrenaline had a chance to wear off, I realized something else. "Shit... I'm alive!" I decided to tell a fellow in a suit who had seen the whole thing. "I'm alive!" and he didn't quite share my smile. He did smile and nod before backing away slowly. Stuntman antics and exclamations of existance don't really go a long way in establishing one's sanity, I guess.

The collapsed fire escape then emitted a very loud CLANG! and shifted a foot. It did not turn out to be an inattentive driver. A man in... I can only describe it as drab ruddy spandex was lying flat on the sidewalk, clutching a sack. A woman in some form of harness and worn combat armor... form-fitting if not entirely flattering... emerged in hot pursuit, bearing... a bent stick? No, a bow. She paused at the sight of the man, the iron wreckage... and me, walking over, waving.

She spat, and said something like, "Tu, mordith. Ka elka domrith?"

I blinked. "Um. What? I'm sorry about the fire escape. It fell."

"Du queth? Raw eel melbert."

"Ah, shit. How can... um. Oh!" I dug out my wallet, and pulled my ID.

The woman snatched it, and studied it. She arched an eyebrow. "Des merleg farlo. Du... um. Desk breath." She tapped something at her ear, and spoke very quickly. After a bit, she nodded. She pointed at my chest, and then two fingers walking along her arm, and then pointed at her chest.

I shrugged and nodded. Took back my ID, then gestured at the fellow on the ground. She grinned, and pulled out a pair of handcuffs from... somewhere. I could see that there were a number of little pockets on her outfit. Handy.

Wait, if she has handcuffs... one of these two was probably a criminal of some sort. Had to be the guy. If she just wanted to rob him, he was already about as unconscious as you can get. So, he had to have been running full tilt, away from her...

And then he opened his eyes, and, seeing her, sat bolt upright, and jumped over the metal mess in the road. The woman started after. I... could have stayed put. But you don't get help from people who you don't do anything for. It could mean the difference between being dropped off with the local authorities and making a friend who could help me find a safe place to stay. Following also meant I didn't get left behind.

I couldn't believe how far that guy'd gone before we'd even gotten through the improv fence. Didn't seem hard to gain ground though. Traffic slowed nicely, nice to know there's good drivers in... wherever I was.