18
UnwelcomeStorm
BARK! BARK! BARK!
- Location
- United States
18
{X}Find a source of biomass: Check in with the PRT scientists to find your limits
If there's one thing my power is good for, it's finding new and uncomfortable questions in need of answers. Questions like, 'is zombiehood the afterlife?' and 'do I need to pay taxes if I'm already dead?' Probably a whole bunch of actual moral and philosophical stuff, too, but for today the only one I was concerned with was 'can I eat a tree?' Honestly, it's not a very awkward or unfortunate question, but that didn't stop the PRT's scientists from staring or grinning or occasionally whispering please god not again as I slouch into the lab on appointment.
The answer, as a few hours of experimentation revealed, was 'kinda.' Anything made of flesh was easily made into my flesh, but other mostly-living things like an apple, or a stolen houseplant, or a salad ended up just... dissolved. They didn't become my flesh, but they were broken down and added to my flesh. Boring, non-flesh dead things like chairs and clothes I just kind of gooped off of. It was disappointing, in more than one way. The scientists were pleased (most of them), but I walked out feeling worse than when I'd walked in. Taking in the plants and other organic masses was like eating styrofoam packing peanuts: it was tasteless and disgusting and it left me feeling rotted inside.
Screw going back to the labs for a while, I don't want them trying to make some vegetarian slurry to force down my gullet.
I'm hungry.
[ ]Find a source of biomass. Soon.
* * *
{X}Apologize to the coward
Hunger is still scraping against my stomach walls when I finally, finally, catch Clockblocker a few days later. Our schedules don't seem to overlap much, even though I'm here more often than not. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was avoiding me. Possibly with help. Vista's interference would be too obvious, and Aegis seems straight-laced enough not to play favorites this early... maybe I should say hello to Gallant or Kid Win one of these days. Put some real effort into it.
I catch sight of his white costume turning a corner near the cafeteria, and quicken my pace as best I can manage; I've been playing around recently with dividing myself into different parts and seeing how weird I could get without disrupting the humanlike shape of my pumpkin outfit. Bones, muscles, veins, pustules... don't really care much about composition, so long as I can move, but speed wasn't something I'd been concerned about until now. "Hey, Clock. Stop."
Surprising me, he did. He turned around and put a hand behind his head, like a cartoon character scratching the back of their neck. "Uh... hey, Deadpan. I'm kinda in a hurry. What's up?"
"Don't worry," I rasp, and reach out a hand towards his, intending to shake it. "This won't take long."
It'd be inaccurate to say I 'wake up,' but that's as close as I can describe it, coming to awareness in what was roughly my right leg. The top half off my mass was frozen in time, but enough of me is disconnected that I'd escaped being fully clockblocked. I didn't have much in the way of sensory organs prepared, so I couldn't say for sure... but if he was smart, then Clockblocker was already running.
I ooze out of the gaps in my frozen costume, more squirming tendrils than anything, and start forming some sort of body as quickly as feasible. Half the mass available, and I don't have time to gather more, so legs are eschewed in favor of strong arms and a muscle-filled tail of intestines and bones. As soon as rudimentary ears form I hear the sound of distant footsteps: I'm after them like a shot, running on two clawed hands and screeching in frustration. I'm much faster than he is now, what with being built for speed in mind, and I leap around a corner and then again off of a wall to close the distance. Clockblocker turns his head to look, then breaks into a full-out sprint.
Not fast enough.
A twist of my tail like a spring, coupled with a mighty push from my arms, and I lunge a good 40 feet and tackle the Striker from behind. I don't particularly care about what noises he's making, as wrapping myself around him takes priority-- this way, if he tries to freeze me again, he'll be trapped. He doesn't, and I manage to wrestle him around until he's on his back and I am facing him.
"I apologize."
Clockblocker makes a few more wordless sounds and strains against me, but when I don't say or do anything else, he slowly quiets. "W...what?"
"For grabbing your foot," I mutter. "I shouldn't have scared you."
Clockblocker doesn't say anything coherent, just a thin high-pitched noise, but I can just imagine him gaping behind his full-face mask. I hiss and smack the bladed end of my tail against the floor in a fit of pique. It leaves a gouge. "And if you'd stop running, I wouldn't have to chase you! Tch. See if I do anything nice for you ever again..."
I keep grumbling as I untwine myself from Clockblocker's prone form, then slink away in search of the rest of my body.
* * *
It wasn't long before I got a knock on my door. Big surprise, Clockblocker must have gone crying to someone. I think Battery was his mentor? But, when I opened up the door, it wasn't Battery or Assault, which surprised me. Instead, Aegis was standing just outside. Alone, even. I checked.
"Deadpan. May I come in? We need to have a talk."
"...sure." I step back and wave him in, and he takes a moment to look around at my new furnishings. Almost everything's been coated in some weird metal alloy that Sphere cooked up, the chair, the desk, the walls, everything. The only exceptions are the mattress that I don't use, a paper day calendar on my desk that someone put there, and the computer itself. That and the monitor are encased in something that's not glass, but is clear like it. I'm not sure what it is, but I'll bet that it's expensive, as the keyboard and mouse are spared their entrapment in exchange for being expendable.
"I see they finished acid-proofing your room," Aegis says. Then he just stands there, until I do the polite thing and make a vague gesture at my computer chair. It's only after he's turned the chair around and I'm seated on the foot of the bed that he starts speaking again. "So, I wanted to have a chat about how you're fitting in with the rest of the team, now that you've been here a few weeks."
"I'm not." No point in being subtle about it.
"And that's why I wanted to talk about it. Deadpan, to be blunt, you're scaring your teammates, and it has to stop."
"Yeah? Well I can't really stop being a walking horror movie."
"But you can make an effort to tone it down and let everyone get used to you slowly."
I scoff at him. "So I have to smile and pretend nothing's wrong, and they don't have to do anything. How is that fair?"
"It isn't," Aegis says, his voice flat. That actually makes me discard any further complaints for the moment. I figured he was going to do the polite, beat-around-the-bush non-answer sort of response. "Parahuman powers aren't fair, and you got shafted. You'll have to work harder to get along with people than someone whose powers didn't change their body. That's just the way it is."
When I stay quiet, he continues, saying, "It's not fair to you to have to change yourself just to fit in, but it's also not fair to the others to let you do whatever you want. We're a team. We need to work together. And this is supposed to be a safe and comfortable environment for everyone."
Shit. He knows. And now he's twisting my words to Vista back on me. Which means if I act like that's not important to me, this will blow up in my face for sure. Crap... I'm going to have to actually try to play nice. Hoisted by my own petard. I try not to scowl so much it shows off my grinding my teeth into splinters, and nod. Aegis nods back, and gives me a small smile. "Good, glad to hear it. Now, is there anything I can do to make this easier for you?"
I'm too busy sulking to come up with anything, so after a few more minutes Aegis takes his leave, and I flop onto my unused mattress to consider my options.
Spend time with someone?
[ ]Who?
* * *
{X}May as well check in on the old man.
I did get paid, eventually; I ended up with some back pay because I'd not had a bank account to deposit it into, because somebody decided to get in my way. Stupid Grue. So, my first check was quite a bit larger than it would normally be, and I figured I may as well take the opportunity to pay off some of the bills Dad kept telling me not to worry about. The PRT had taken up the medical bills, but that didn't erase the usual cost of living, or what was lost in trying to stay afloat of those bills. I was a little worried that he'd still be too proud to accept what I could offer, but I guess working at the supermarket has lowered his expectations of himself. Hopefully he won't hit rock bottom. I'm not sure yet if I have any opinions on gravedigging.
"Taylor, that's..." Dad sighed, and closed his eyes. After a second he opened them again, and continued speaking with a tight smile. "That's very sweet, honey. Thank you. This is your money though, you've earned it."
I shrugged. I didn't think the Wards had been any more soul-draining than your average retail job. Maybe even less, if some of the stories I've heard were true. "Don't care. Call it a gift, or rent, or whatever makes you happy."
"Taylor..."
"No."
He sighed again, and sat down across from me at the kitchen table. I tried to adjust my posture to match his. I'd spent enough time in costume or growing along walls lately that just sitting here in my most basic Taylor-shape felt kind of foreign. Probably because I don't have much of a butt to speak of, for padding. Or because my knees keep finding ways to get bumped against things. Maybe Aegis had a point. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"
"No."
"Fine... and, I do appreciate it, Taylor, don't get me wrong. Tell you what: I'll accept half until a few bills are paid off. Alright?" I whistled a sigh out from what was left of my nose. Dad is a stubborn sort, and I don't really have the patience to fight him anymore. But with this settled, his expression lightened. "So! How is it, being a Ward? Are they treating you right? I haven't seen you much since you joined, it feels like. Tell me about your day, honey."
Ah, hell. He looks hopeful, too. Guess he changed his mind about being worried, but...
Can't change the subject:
[ ]Truth
[ ]Lie
* * *
Once Dad had gone to bed, I was finally free to scuttle out from under my bed and creep down to the basement. I hadn't been down here for a while, and I'll admit I even missed it. It was cool down here, and dark, and I found that rather soothing. Maybe I could find time to take a nap down here before I left again. That wasn't while I was here tonight, though. I crouched low and crawled behind the heater and past the coal chute, to where my plastic tote of meatslime still rested.
I'd felt it as soon as I got onto the same street as my house: a sense of being here, but not where my body was. It was... weird. It didn't hurt, as I'd expect any sort of division over that kind of distance to. And it hadn't really occurred to me that I could possibly lose track of my flesh. It seemed impossible. But, thinking about it, I'd been doing just that all along. Every time I disgorged any rats I'd caught, I'd been able to leave the flesh here, away from me, so that didn't really track with the rest of my experience of being undead. But, I'd also never sensed that meatslime from a distance like I could now, so that was odd, too. Maybe the former was because the undifferentiated cells and proteins I'd spit up weren't as... solidly me, I guess? Which would mean the latter was because that tote wasn't full of basic slime anymore.
The lid was still clasped to the 20-gallon plastic box, but it wasn't fitting so well anymore. The meat inside had expanded, filled up the container until the top was bulging, enough so that it'd even knocked the wreath of air-fresheners I'd placed atop it to the ground. The start of a few hair-thin tendrils of nerves and veins had started to escape it, growing along the sides of the overburdened tote. I didn't see any of them moving, so it must have been a relatively slow process, but the fact that it was happening at all was unusual. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it.
Should I do something about this?
[ ]Eh, it's fine where it is.
[ ]Better consume it, just to be safe.
[ ]Something else? (Write-in)
{X}Find a source of biomass: Check in with the PRT scientists to find your limits
If there's one thing my power is good for, it's finding new and uncomfortable questions in need of answers. Questions like, 'is zombiehood the afterlife?' and 'do I need to pay taxes if I'm already dead?' Probably a whole bunch of actual moral and philosophical stuff, too, but for today the only one I was concerned with was 'can I eat a tree?' Honestly, it's not a very awkward or unfortunate question, but that didn't stop the PRT's scientists from staring or grinning or occasionally whispering please god not again as I slouch into the lab on appointment.
The answer, as a few hours of experimentation revealed, was 'kinda.' Anything made of flesh was easily made into my flesh, but other mostly-living things like an apple, or a stolen houseplant, or a salad ended up just... dissolved. They didn't become my flesh, but they were broken down and added to my flesh. Boring, non-flesh dead things like chairs and clothes I just kind of gooped off of. It was disappointing, in more than one way. The scientists were pleased (most of them), but I walked out feeling worse than when I'd walked in. Taking in the plants and other organic masses was like eating styrofoam packing peanuts: it was tasteless and disgusting and it left me feeling rotted inside.
Screw going back to the labs for a while, I don't want them trying to make some vegetarian slurry to force down my gullet.
I'm hungry.
[ ]Find a source of biomass. Soon.
* * *
{X}Apologize to the coward
Hunger is still scraping against my stomach walls when I finally, finally, catch Clockblocker a few days later. Our schedules don't seem to overlap much, even though I'm here more often than not. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was avoiding me. Possibly with help. Vista's interference would be too obvious, and Aegis seems straight-laced enough not to play favorites this early... maybe I should say hello to Gallant or Kid Win one of these days. Put some real effort into it.
I catch sight of his white costume turning a corner near the cafeteria, and quicken my pace as best I can manage; I've been playing around recently with dividing myself into different parts and seeing how weird I could get without disrupting the humanlike shape of my pumpkin outfit. Bones, muscles, veins, pustules... don't really care much about composition, so long as I can move, but speed wasn't something I'd been concerned about until now. "Hey, Clock. Stop."
Surprising me, he did. He turned around and put a hand behind his head, like a cartoon character scratching the back of their neck. "Uh... hey, Deadpan. I'm kinda in a hurry. What's up?"
"Don't worry," I rasp, and reach out a hand towards his, intending to shake it. "This won't take long."
It'd be inaccurate to say I 'wake up,' but that's as close as I can describe it, coming to awareness in what was roughly my right leg. The top half off my mass was frozen in time, but enough of me is disconnected that I'd escaped being fully clockblocked. I didn't have much in the way of sensory organs prepared, so I couldn't say for sure... but if he was smart, then Clockblocker was already running.
I ooze out of the gaps in my frozen costume, more squirming tendrils than anything, and start forming some sort of body as quickly as feasible. Half the mass available, and I don't have time to gather more, so legs are eschewed in favor of strong arms and a muscle-filled tail of intestines and bones. As soon as rudimentary ears form I hear the sound of distant footsteps: I'm after them like a shot, running on two clawed hands and screeching in frustration. I'm much faster than he is now, what with being built for speed in mind, and I leap around a corner and then again off of a wall to close the distance. Clockblocker turns his head to look, then breaks into a full-out sprint.
Not fast enough.
A twist of my tail like a spring, coupled with a mighty push from my arms, and I lunge a good 40 feet and tackle the Striker from behind. I don't particularly care about what noises he's making, as wrapping myself around him takes priority-- this way, if he tries to freeze me again, he'll be trapped. He doesn't, and I manage to wrestle him around until he's on his back and I am facing him.
"I apologize."
Clockblocker makes a few more wordless sounds and strains against me, but when I don't say or do anything else, he slowly quiets. "W...what?"
"For grabbing your foot," I mutter. "I shouldn't have scared you."
Clockblocker doesn't say anything coherent, just a thin high-pitched noise, but I can just imagine him gaping behind his full-face mask. I hiss and smack the bladed end of my tail against the floor in a fit of pique. It leaves a gouge. "And if you'd stop running, I wouldn't have to chase you! Tch. See if I do anything nice for you ever again..."
I keep grumbling as I untwine myself from Clockblocker's prone form, then slink away in search of the rest of my body.
* * *
It wasn't long before I got a knock on my door. Big surprise, Clockblocker must have gone crying to someone. I think Battery was his mentor? But, when I opened up the door, it wasn't Battery or Assault, which surprised me. Instead, Aegis was standing just outside. Alone, even. I checked.
"Deadpan. May I come in? We need to have a talk."
"...sure." I step back and wave him in, and he takes a moment to look around at my new furnishings. Almost everything's been coated in some weird metal alloy that Sphere cooked up, the chair, the desk, the walls, everything. The only exceptions are the mattress that I don't use, a paper day calendar on my desk that someone put there, and the computer itself. That and the monitor are encased in something that's not glass, but is clear like it. I'm not sure what it is, but I'll bet that it's expensive, as the keyboard and mouse are spared their entrapment in exchange for being expendable.
"I see they finished acid-proofing your room," Aegis says. Then he just stands there, until I do the polite thing and make a vague gesture at my computer chair. It's only after he's turned the chair around and I'm seated on the foot of the bed that he starts speaking again. "So, I wanted to have a chat about how you're fitting in with the rest of the team, now that you've been here a few weeks."
"I'm not." No point in being subtle about it.
"And that's why I wanted to talk about it. Deadpan, to be blunt, you're scaring your teammates, and it has to stop."
"Yeah? Well I can't really stop being a walking horror movie."
"But you can make an effort to tone it down and let everyone get used to you slowly."
I scoff at him. "So I have to smile and pretend nothing's wrong, and they don't have to do anything. How is that fair?"
"It isn't," Aegis says, his voice flat. That actually makes me discard any further complaints for the moment. I figured he was going to do the polite, beat-around-the-bush non-answer sort of response. "Parahuman powers aren't fair, and you got shafted. You'll have to work harder to get along with people than someone whose powers didn't change their body. That's just the way it is."
When I stay quiet, he continues, saying, "It's not fair to you to have to change yourself just to fit in, but it's also not fair to the others to let you do whatever you want. We're a team. We need to work together. And this is supposed to be a safe and comfortable environment for everyone."
Shit. He knows. And now he's twisting my words to Vista back on me. Which means if I act like that's not important to me, this will blow up in my face for sure. Crap... I'm going to have to actually try to play nice. Hoisted by my own petard. I try not to scowl so much it shows off my grinding my teeth into splinters, and nod. Aegis nods back, and gives me a small smile. "Good, glad to hear it. Now, is there anything I can do to make this easier for you?"
I'm too busy sulking to come up with anything, so after a few more minutes Aegis takes his leave, and I flop onto my unused mattress to consider my options.
Spend time with someone?
[ ]Who?
* * *
{X}May as well check in on the old man.
I did get paid, eventually; I ended up with some back pay because I'd not had a bank account to deposit it into, because somebody decided to get in my way. Stupid Grue. So, my first check was quite a bit larger than it would normally be, and I figured I may as well take the opportunity to pay off some of the bills Dad kept telling me not to worry about. The PRT had taken up the medical bills, but that didn't erase the usual cost of living, or what was lost in trying to stay afloat of those bills. I was a little worried that he'd still be too proud to accept what I could offer, but I guess working at the supermarket has lowered his expectations of himself. Hopefully he won't hit rock bottom. I'm not sure yet if I have any opinions on gravedigging.
"Taylor, that's..." Dad sighed, and closed his eyes. After a second he opened them again, and continued speaking with a tight smile. "That's very sweet, honey. Thank you. This is your money though, you've earned it."
I shrugged. I didn't think the Wards had been any more soul-draining than your average retail job. Maybe even less, if some of the stories I've heard were true. "Don't care. Call it a gift, or rent, or whatever makes you happy."
"Taylor..."
"No."
He sighed again, and sat down across from me at the kitchen table. I tried to adjust my posture to match his. I'd spent enough time in costume or growing along walls lately that just sitting here in my most basic Taylor-shape felt kind of foreign. Probably because I don't have much of a butt to speak of, for padding. Or because my knees keep finding ways to get bumped against things. Maybe Aegis had a point. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"
"No."
"Fine... and, I do appreciate it, Taylor, don't get me wrong. Tell you what: I'll accept half until a few bills are paid off. Alright?" I whistled a sigh out from what was left of my nose. Dad is a stubborn sort, and I don't really have the patience to fight him anymore. But with this settled, his expression lightened. "So! How is it, being a Ward? Are they treating you right? I haven't seen you much since you joined, it feels like. Tell me about your day, honey."
Ah, hell. He looks hopeful, too. Guess he changed his mind about being worried, but...
Can't change the subject:
[ ]Truth
[ ]Lie
* * *
Once Dad had gone to bed, I was finally free to scuttle out from under my bed and creep down to the basement. I hadn't been down here for a while, and I'll admit I even missed it. It was cool down here, and dark, and I found that rather soothing. Maybe I could find time to take a nap down here before I left again. That wasn't while I was here tonight, though. I crouched low and crawled behind the heater and past the coal chute, to where my plastic tote of meatslime still rested.
I'd felt it as soon as I got onto the same street as my house: a sense of being here, but not where my body was. It was... weird. It didn't hurt, as I'd expect any sort of division over that kind of distance to. And it hadn't really occurred to me that I could possibly lose track of my flesh. It seemed impossible. But, thinking about it, I'd been doing just that all along. Every time I disgorged any rats I'd caught, I'd been able to leave the flesh here, away from me, so that didn't really track with the rest of my experience of being undead. But, I'd also never sensed that meatslime from a distance like I could now, so that was odd, too. Maybe the former was because the undifferentiated cells and proteins I'd spit up weren't as... solidly me, I guess? Which would mean the latter was because that tote wasn't full of basic slime anymore.
The lid was still clasped to the 20-gallon plastic box, but it wasn't fitting so well anymore. The meat inside had expanded, filled up the container until the top was bulging, enough so that it'd even knocked the wreath of air-fresheners I'd placed atop it to the ground. The start of a few hair-thin tendrils of nerves and veins had started to escape it, growing along the sides of the overburdened tote. I didn't see any of them moving, so it must have been a relatively slow process, but the fact that it was happening at all was unusual. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it.
Should I do something about this?
[ ]Eh, it's fine where it is.
[ ]Better consume it, just to be safe.
[ ]Something else? (Write-in)
