Chapter 231 B4. 20 – Taking A Sample

“What do you think of my truck driving skills?” I asked Floppy Arm, throwing my crystalline mask up.

It broke into glitters that swirled in the wind before disappearing. This move would never get old. Better include this in the trailer of my movie.

“Pills!” Floppy Arm answered. His Adumbrae aura strengthened. He scratched his face deeply—his broken hand had repaired itself. He tore strips of his skin. No blood came out. Instead of red flesh, something shiny was underneath.

I summoned my Blanchette mask. This’d be a quick fight, but I’d have to let Floppy Arm finish transforming. Even if Cecilia didn’t request monster parts, I needed to show the work of the special effects department. A lot of the budget went to this transformation of a minor character.

Floppy Arm had pulled most of his face off, including his nose and eyeballs, revealing metal with exaggerated, unearthly shine. His head had retained its shape, though its facial features were gone, the metal mostly smooth. His scratching became more frantic, ripping off his shirt and the skin of his chest and arms. He no longer made any sound with the loss of his mouth. Not that he’d scream in pain because his nerves and pain receptors had turned to metal. Hear me sounding scientific.

I chuckled, recalling Deen asking Cecilia for painkillers, as if caring for Floppy Arms. Deen just wanted to interrogate him.

My smile turned to a frown when I recalled the stupid fake story Deen had told Floppy Arms. No way Big Marcy would join Auron against Euphonia. For one, the 2Ms and Auron had opposing goals. Another thing was that Euphonia must’ve provided the 2Ms with techie stuff, too. And everyone was afraid of Euphonia. Deen should just leave concocting stories to me.

Thankfully, this was the end of Floppy Arm and Deen’s floppy rumor.

“I did save you from the BID,” I said, recalling Rule #27 that my third-mask-self had made—Save others so long as it doesn’t endanger me.

Floppy Arm repaid my magnanimity by attempting to truckjack us. Did it endanger me? Some would say yes. Others, no. But I’d say that he definitely bothered me. Rule #4 came into play. I didn’t need to wait for him to attack first.

I put on my Blanchette mask. In an instant, a new body switched with my original one, pumping me with the addicting feeling of strength.    

I snapped my jaws, sort of like praying before a meal. Not that I was religious.

Floppy Arm had shed his skin, ambling forward as a thin mannequin made of oddly-shaped but interlocking pieces of very shiny metal. Unappetizing. I could hear the off-beat pump of his heart, meaning he had squishy organs inside. A recognizable brain, too, hopefully. Still, my excitement at fighting a new Adumbrae was dampened by the realization I had to eat the metal parts as well to completely dispose of him.

Though Floppy Arm had a heart, weakly beating at that, I couldn’t smell blood from inside his body. I didn’t sense any other signs of life, like pulsing and breathing. Not sure how his body worked. The outer plates had the scent of iron mixed with bones and something else.

Watching the transformation brought back memories of the Adumbrae train attack, the day I became an Adumbrae. If I could turn into Blanchette back then, I could’ve eaten the 2Ms’ Adumbrae. 

“Ghraaor….” I growled, ready to fight.

Floppy Arm, who had become Metal Skin, froze. I raised a furry brow. Then Metal Skin uncontrollably twitched, progressing to wild convulsion and insane contortions. He dropped to the ground, flopping like a fish on land. Should he be Floppy Metal instead?

And was he not done with his transformation? Or was he about to use a power? Let it be fearsome, pretty please. I had missed the thrill of a deadly situation.

Floppy Metal’s arms and legs folded back and up, extending into curves not possible for human joints. His head also bent back, followed by his chest. Some insane yoga pose. And it went beyond that. His body curved into a ball. The interlocking metal pieces moved around to new places, some fusing with each other. The pieces shifted inward, compacting his entire body into a sphere a couple of feet across.

In the narrow seams between the metal pieces, lidless eyes opened, their irises yellow and round. The eyes all looked at me.

I stalked around the sphere. It didn’t do anything. I came closer and raised a claw to strike.

All of its eyes snapped shut in unison. The metal parts locked tightly, hiding any soft tissue.

I slashed the sphere. As my claw hit its surface, I immediately realized it was tough as hell. Vibrations went up my hand and arms. Still, my force sent the sphere rolling like a bowling ball into a tree, crashing into its trunk. Bark splintered, and the tree leaned forward.

The sphere slightly expanded to expose its eyes. All watched me approach.

A branch from the bent tree fell. The sphere instantly shut before the branch landed on it. Then it parted its plates, revealing its eyes again, after the branch rolled off its plates. What was its gimmick that needed its eyes open? Otherwise, it would’ve kept shut until the threat, being me, was gone.

I was about ten feet away. The eyes glowed. Those facing me shot beams. I evaded left. The beams strafed sideways. I ducked, hugging the ground, as the beams sliced the air above me. Then they sputtered into nothing.

On all fours, I bounded to the sphere and struck again. No surprise that the sphere again closed at the last moment. I didn’t stop attacking. Balling my hands into fists, I rained punches from above so it wouldn’t roll away. I drove the sphere into the dry, compacted soil. The impact of each hit travelled up my arms, making them numb for a moment before regeneration refreshed my body.

I stopped. My punches didn’t leave any dents on the sphere’s surface.

This isn’t fun, I thought, growling. It’d just defend and wait for the moment to—

The sphere hissed open, revealing eyes that already glowed. A split-second decision. Fight or fly? Fight! This was my chance to damage this bullshit thingy! I stabbed my claws down at an eye, planning to hook my claws underneath the plates to pull them out.

The eyes shot first. Beams hit my chest and sent me flying. I wanted to fight!

I hadn’t begun to fall when the next shots came. I crossed my arms and tucked my legs to protect my torso. I also leaned sideways. Beams connected, sending me rolling to the left instead of further up.

I twisted my body to avoid the third set of beams and landed with a cool pose. The eyes continued to shoot. I evaded them with no problem. This was like dodgeball, but with multiple balls moving with a bullet’s speed. I was pretty good in dodgeball during high school P.E. because I was a cheerleader back then. That, and I was tiny.

I got hit earlier because I was too close. With room to dodge, the other beams couldn’t touch me.

And then, the shooting stopped.

The sphere didn’t close. I expected it to alternate between attack and defense.

Checking myself, I found reddish welts where the beams had hit my skin. I thought the beams were lasers with intense heat, but they felt more like solid objects hitting me. My regeneration quickly healed my injuries. I also started to grow faster after getting hurt, even if slightly.

Weirdly, my hunger for Floppy Metal, who had become a sphere—I’d no longer change his nickname—was barely noticeable. I also wasn’t that angry. Did I have more control over this form? Or was Floppy Metal just that weak?

Walking up to the sphere elicited no reaction from it. I sighed… I really, really didn’t want to eat this thing. It didn’t look delicious, and it was weak.

I stomped the sphere. It armored up before my foot hit. I buried it deeper into the soil, expanding the tiny crater that cradled it.

Time to experiment, I thought, though I didn’t have much time to spare. That was one hit. I stomped again. I stepped back.

The sphere opened its plates and fired its beams. I crouched to receive the hits, even swiping at a couple of beams to deflect them.

Nothing followed.

What have I learned? This pesky globe absorbed my hits and returned them to me as beams with kinetic force. There I go sounding scientific again. One volley per hit, it seemed. Maybe it divided the power of the attack among many beams, weakening each beam. The branch dropping on it didn’t trigger a counter-beam. There was a certain threshold to the attack for Floppy Metal to shoot.

The trick to the sphere’s durability was its absorbing shtick. Other sorts of attacks could probably work. Unfortunately, I didn’t have heat powers like Everett. In that case, Floppy Metal might end up shooting actual lasers.

I could probably grow strong enough to destroy this thing, but that might take too much time. And becoming a giant werewolf with the BID somewhere in this area was also a no-no.  

What if I attacked Floppy Metal non-stop? Overwhelm its absorption ability. I had seen that trick in a movie where they kept charging an electric Adumbrae with energy from a power plant until it exploded.

I hammered the sphere with my fists, each punch causing the ground to tremble. Not sure what the actual solution was supposed to be—I hated puzzles—but I should do something to get Cecilia’s sample. Then, I realized that a passing car might wonder about the sounds. A slim possibility, with no cars on this road earlier, but a possibility I shouldn’t risk.

I stopped punching and retreated a few feet. I dropped to all fours and anchored my claws into the ground, preparing for the beam massage—it’d accelerate my growth despite being weak. I needed to destroy this sphere soon without growing too big.

Floppy Metal revealed its eyes and fired. A chorus of thuds accompanied the light show. A much-diminished light show, as a lot of beams hit the crater it was buried in, kicking up dirt and pebbles.

Only a few beams cleared the crater’s rim. Even fewer hit me.

I should attack now! Floppy Metal didn’t stop shooting until its volleys matched the number of hits it absorbed prior—this was its weakness!

Crouching low, I arced my right arm into the crater, like a scorpion’s tail stabbing its prey. More like trying to flip a fried fish in a pan that’s sputtering oil.

A beam hit my arm. It barely slowed my claws plunging into an eye. I reached with my other hand. Beams hit my face and chest, but I had a firm hold on the sphere. I plunged my left hand in between Floppy Metal’s plates.

With a victorious roar, I tore open the sphere. Viscous, silvery liquid, looking like melted metal, oozed out of the sphere. I dismantled the rest of it, puncturing each eye that fired.

I found Floppy Metal’s heart at the center of the sphere. A wrinkly flesh pancake sat on top of it. Was this the brain? I didn’t find anything else that could be it. I separated the brain from the heart and wrapped it in Floppy Metal’s torn clothes.

I chomped one of the metal pieces. Hard. But not as hard as I expected. I did have a tiny appetite for it since Floppy Metal had hit me. I barely chewed before swallowing the pieces, scarfing down everything I could, ignoring the bland taste with hints of iron. Less than twenty seconds. Floppy Metal was no more except for his wrapped brain—I hoped this was a brain.

I raked the soil for signs of battle. I couldn’t really return this area’s original look. I’d leave the rest to the winds, animals, and the very rare rain.

What I could do was to not give the BID a reason to check here. I returned to my Erind self and left my burner phone on the dashboard before donning my third mask. This was the return of Bewildered Bush.

I drove the truck down the road until I reached a busier road, pleased with how I handled Floppy Metal. Then I headed in the rough direction of our meeting place. Where should I ditch this truck?

I passed by a diner with trucks parked outside. Would’ve been a great place to leave this truck—no one would notice anything amiss until hours later. But I didn’t want to try backing this truck into a parking slot. Heck, I couldn’t do it with a normal car.

And so, I turned down a narrow side road a couple of blocks from the diner, left the truck there, and ran away.

It took almost an hour to reunite with Deen and Cecilia because I actually drove the truck away from Alta Road—I shouldn’t be allowed to navigate anything. With our burner phones we bought from the Understrip, Deen and I contacted each other, and Deen figured out where I was.

“Just wait there at the corner,” Deen said. “We’ll pick you up.”

“Okay, Mom,” I said in my manly voice.

When I finally entered the car, I had already taken off my mask. I didn’t want to reveal to Cecilia how I transformed. At least, not yet. I’d keep my secrets for as long as I could.

“Do you have the brain?” Cecilia asked. “We’ll place it here.” There was a cooler in the backseat beside her.

I leaned over to check the contents of the cooler. “Ice? And what’s that smell? Sweet and sharp.”

“It’s the solution to preserve the brain,” Cecilia said. “For research purposes, it would’ve been preferable if I could slice off pieces and preserve each of them. Or cryogenically preserve the whole brain. But neither option is available to me. We make do and hope enough of the brain hasn’t degraded beyond use before we reach Barstow.”

“Are you saying that we’re heading to Barstow next?” I asked. “We won’t head Salton Sea that’s actually a lake?”