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Feyrahl, SoFurry Edition

So it Begins, Ch 0.0

MacKenzie Millman; it was a name Mac rarely ever heard since moving away from home and into college. It would come up every so often at the beginning of a semester until his instructor learned that he preferred 'Mac', and, of course, all of his circle of friends knew the right way to address him. His legal name was his legal name, however, and, so, earlier that evening he accepted his Master's Degree, which had his full name on it. MacKenzie Millman. It wasn't a bad name, per se, but it just wasn't the one he normally used.

It had been a difficult six years working his way toward the degree. For the first four years he had the support of his parents but, right when he was about to complete his Bachelor's Degree they filed for divorce; they were so focused on their own lives at that point, Mac was left to his own devices. He had to learn how to make his own way and on more than one occasion he almost had to drop out. Student debt had piled up despite the work study classes he took, but he made it work.

His mom and his dad had both separately showed up for his graduation; it was the first time he'd seen his dad since the divorce since the man had moved across the country. Mac saw his mom a lot more often, but her new husband didn't much care for the young man because, as the guy put it, Mac "made bad lifestyle choices". It was a not-so-subtle way to say that his stepfather didn't approve of him being gay. Mac learned not to expect to see his mom much after that, but at least she'd attended his graduation (thankfully without her new husband). It was nice having both his folks there, but neither lingered long; his dad had a flight to head back east while his mom had promised her husband she wouldn't be out "all night".

Mac might have been upset about his family's abandonment of him at one point but, over the course of his two years of self-reliance he'd learned that he only needed to depend on himself. He'd had the chance to succeed, the chance to fail, the chance to love, the chance to lose-- in those two years he'd grown a lot, and he was mature enough to know that he couldn't control his parents; he could only control himself. Rather than mope, Mac decided he was going to honor his achievement. Getting together with some of the friends he'd made earlier in his college career, they decided their successes were worthy of a proper celebration.

Having spent most of his college career studying for success, Mac was not much of a party-goer, but he made an exception. One of his friends had pledged and so his brothers held a huge rager in celebration of their graduates that year, and there were a LOT of attendees. Between relationships, Mac had a chance to kiss a handsome-looking fellow, and even got his phone number. He had a fair amount to drink and, despite also having several pieces of pizza and some chips, Mac hung out several more hours to make sure that his body had a chance to process the alcohol.

He was smart about it too; he'd worked one summer for a local healthcare organization as an Analytical Chemist, and he knew based on the volume he drank and his weight approximately how long he had to wait to be safe to drive. It was a skill he'd used numerous time on behalf of his friends when he couldn't be around as a designated driver, preparing a simple chart to help them realize what they needed to do to be safe including the amount and kind of food consumed with the alcohol-- he also erred on the side of caution and purposefully added an extra hour on the sober-up time. Using his own advice, it was almost two in the morning by the time he finally said his farewells.

Mac hopped into his Civic and, as a test for his hand-eye-coordination, he had to weave out between three other vehicles to get out onto the street; it went smoothly. The trip from the frat house to his apartment was twenty minutes during the day but, so early in the morning he didn't have to worry about pedestrians or traffic, so he hoped to be home, brush his teeth, and collapse into bed before 2:30. Things did not go as planned.

California was known for earthquakes and, during Mac's time at the college he'd felt easily half a dozen, but, for the most part, they were mild. On his way back home, however, the entire street gave a jump, rolling like waves on the ocean; it was definitely not mild. His Civic rolled onto the bridge separating the east and west side of town, pushed along further despite the fact that Mac had his foot on the brakes. The ground continued bucking, and he had to grab the steering wheel to avoid his head hitting the roof of the car.

Ahead of him, Mac watched the bridge wriggle like a snake with its head cut-off and, before he knew it, his car was ON the bridge. Then, suddenly, as quickly as it started, the earthquake came to an end. Mac's hands were still shaking, still wrapped around the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. It took a number of breaths before his breathing started to return to normal, and a few minutes passed before Mac recovered from the experience. Chuckling nervously to himself, the young man restarted his car's engine, and proceeded across the bridge.

Just over half way across, Mac cried out in alarm as the bridge began shaking anew. The water far beneath his car sloshed mightily and spray was shot up into the air so high that it came down on his windshield like rain. He hit the brakes again, gripping the steering wheel tightly, but he had no better chance of controlling his car than if it were a leaf in the middle of a surging river. Screaming, he could do nothing as the bridge bucked left, then right, and his car gave a double-hop before sliding to the right as the bridge lifted up on the left. The car slammed into the guard rail-- which gave way.

Frozen in place, Mac's voice stopped working as he watched everything pass in slow motion. His car teetered on the bridge for what felt like an eternity, yet passed in the blink of an eye and the next thing he knew, he was falling down into the dark water below. He felt the impact of his weight slam into his seat and, for a moment, everything went numb-- the pain started a second later, followed by the cold, cold water that began to seep into the car. His body began responding to his thoughts again and he somehow managed to not panic as he tried to rationalize his position and how best to make it out alive.

Mac had trouble keeping his fear at bay, but tried to focus instead on his situation, and an episode of a myth busting show he watched back in his early teens about how to escape a sinking car. He went through all the steps, checking to make sure he could unbuckle his seatbelt; he could. Mac then checked the door; it didn't budge. He remembered hearing that he'd be able to open the door once the pressure came closer to equalizing, so all he could do was wait. His mind started to try and gauge how far it was to the surface against how fast the car was sinking-- he hadn't recalled hitting the bottom yet. How deep was the bay, exactly? The fear started creeping up the back of his spine, calling for his fight or flight response to overpower his logical mind.

He chose to count to ten, trying to center himself as the water was drawing closer to his hips and more dribbled down from the ceiling around him; the sound was surreal. By the time he reached ten it was all he could do to not throw his weight against the door, instead, slowly testing the handle and giving a gentle push; he was surprised that it gave way. A moment later the interior was all but full of water; he had enough time to take a deep breath and, with as much force as he could master with his feet, kicked off against the driver's seat to give himself upward trajectory.

With the night's sky overhead amidst choppy waves, Mac couldn't tell how far the surface was overhead but, he reminded himself, it didn't matter; he had to get to the air, or he would die. Mac was no athlete, but neither was he out of shape... unfortunately swimming had never been one of his strong points. He felt his lungs burn and he tried to command himself to focus on the surface; he wans't that far away-- he was getting closer to air... wasn't he? As the darkness around him started getting even blacker, he came to the realization that he wasn't going to make it. As everything started fading away, however, an iron grip latched onto his shoulder and he was hauled out of the surf.

Coughing and sputtering, Mac found himself dragged up onto shore, barely able to keep pace as he tried and failed, scrambling to get his feet beneath himself. He was ultimately released and he fell onto his back, stil coughing while trying to wipe the saltwater from his eyes. The sky overhead was still dark, but the earliest hints of the morning sun was already lighting the lengthy stretch of horizon across the water. That was the first indication that something was wrong: Mac lived on the west coast and the sun rose over the land. The second thing, which was even more surprising, he noticed after he sat up: his rescuer, the one who pulled him out of the water, was NOT human.

Looking over his shoulder to the one responsible for pulling him to shore, Mac saw that he was staring at a massive humanoid Lion! The creature was easily over seven foot tall, and could have given a linebacker a run for his money on bulk. The creature had the same golden fur as any normal lion, but he (a him, presumably since he had an impressive mane) stood on two legs and was adorned in rugged-looking clothes and a cloak. if the strange, rustic clothes were not enough of an oddity, the Lion's left arm was covered with what looked like a sleeve of metal plates that belonged in a fantasy movie.

What really caught Mac by surprise was the creature's gaze; he had amber colored eyes, but his pupils looked almost sky blue rather than the usual black. Even more surprising, was when the Lion opened his muzzle, and words came out. The Human didn't understand a thing the creature said... not that the Lion said much. Still, Mac tried to address that issue the only way he knew how. "I... don't understand."

The Lion scrunched his nose; it revealed his leonine teeth, but didn't leave Mac with the impression that he was being intimidated. The expression passed quickly enough and his savior grunted, looking further up the beach. Turning to glance in that direction, Mac noticed first that there was absolutely no sign of civilization; he'd crashed off a bridge with city on either side of the bay, but none of it was anywhere nearby. Just as surprising was the fact that there was a second Lion man approaching. The two had an unmistakable similarity despite the fact that they wore different clothing and the newcomer had his mane cut short while the one who had saved Mac wore his long with braids.

The newcomer wasted no time, and was nowhere near as passive. Pointing right at Mac, the short-maned Lion addressed the long-maned one, speaking authoritatively and, if the Human understood the tone, it was an accusation. Mac's savior shrugged and responded with only a handful of words, gesturing casually toward the Human. The short-maned Lion flicked his cloak back over his shoulder, revealing an honest-to-goodness sword on his hip, and he spoke at Mac in a demanding tone. With no other option than to repeat his earlier statement he used with the first Lion, Mac offered "I don't understand."

The long-maned Lion spoke blandly to the second Lion, gesturing toward Mac; the comment didn't seem to be well received. Unlike when the first Lion showed some teeth, when the second one did it Mac was left with a VERY strong feeling of being intimidated; the fact that the short maned one touched the hilt of his sword with a paw further reinforced that idea. Each Lion stepped closer, moving to flank Mac on either side. When they each gestured in a direction, the young man realized that they were likely ordering him to travel that way. Did he go from rescued survivor to a prisoner to a pair of Lions? It started to feel like it.

Faced with being in a strange place with strange creatures speaking a strange language, Mac didn't have a lot of options, but he had a few: