Big Phish, aka Javier Torres, is a reclusive Nuevohuman living in Littleport Harbor. He keeps to himself, rarely venturing from his lair, and the residents treat it like an urban legend. He is ostracized by anyone and everyone who knew him from before he triggered. Nobody certainly wasn’t kidding about him being similar to me. His power makes his body produce a dense, moist fog. Nobody didn’t give me any information about what he looked like, only to be careful not to get eaten. So it’s obvious that Javier is a monster like I was.
The drive is uneventful and long, taking me nearly three hours to get to the town. It’s half past noon, and I do not want to be fighting in the dark if I can help it. Small shopping centers, quaint cottages, and overpriced coffee shops dot the town—an effort to make a profit on the local beach and ignorant tourists. Javier lives in a cave underneath one of the cliffs overlooking the beach. I park the box truck I’ve been using in an empty lot near the cliffside. I brought a duffel bag filled with a few things I might need: two handguns, a bowie knife, a flashlight, rope, and chains. A tactical vest over my incredibly toned chest, cargo pants that strain to contain my powerful legs while showing off just a taste of my sculpted cum gutters, jet-black steel-toed boots, and a pair of good ole American aviators. God, I look incredible. Sexually tactical or tactically sexy?
I make my way from the lot over to the cliff. There’s a large boulder I can use to tie the rope around. The ocean’s waves crash below against the rocks, frothing turquoise sea foam splashing everywhere. To the right, about a half mile away, I see Littleport Beach, filled with people enjoying the sunny weather. The summer sun above radiates warmth that feels wonderful on my bare skin. The view from up here is magnificent and the ocean looks so inviting. I think I’ll go for a swim when I’m finished monster hunting.
I lean off the edge, looking for the cave entrance. It doesn’t take long for me to spot the bus-sized hole all the way at the bottom. Double-checking my holstered guns and that my bag is secure, I tie the end of the rope around my waist and then start to rappel down. Sharp jagged rocks jutting out of the water below me and a fall of over two hundred feet if I fuck up. I wonder if I’d survive that. I’m pretty confident I could shrug off getting hit by a car, but falling straight onto pointed rocks the size of my leg might genuinely be too much.
Slowly, I descend, using my free hand to grab the rock face and kicking holes into the cliff to use as footholds. The breeze brings misty air up, wetting my skin and the rocks. As I’m going down, the slickness causes my hand to slip, and I fall backward. Fuck. Falling rapidly toward the bottom, I grab the rope with my hand to try and slow down. The rope snaps, sending me tumbling over and away from the cliff. I reorientate myself in the air in an attempt to change the angle of my descent. The spikes in my sight are getting bigger and bigger. Time seems to slow as I approach. I aim toward a larger stone outcropping that’s about the size of a small sedan. Tucking my knees to my chest, I try to bleed off my momentum by rolling into the rock.
It works, sort of. I crash into it like a cannonball, blasting it into chunks and falling into the ocean. My body hurts like a bitch, but nothing feels broken as I swim up to the surface. That fucking sucked. I crawl my way up to the hole, pulling myself in. A quick check shows no injuries, but there were some casualties. Both guns are waterlogged and unusable. Thankfully, I left both my phones inside the truck. I turn the flashlight on, illuminating the cave. It’s moist and humid inside. There aren’t any stalagmites or stalactites; everything is barren and smooth. Odd. I walk forward and draw my knife. Just in case Javier doesn’t feel too friendly.
“Leeeeeaaaaavvvvvee,” A deep rumbling voice said.
“Fuck me, that is scary. Mr. Big Phish, I’m here to talk. Come on out.”
“Leeeeeaaaaavvvvvee. Not saaaaaaaaaaaafe. Still huuuuuuungry,” Big Phish said.
“Oh no thanks, I ate before I came. I do have an opportunity I know you’ll be quite interested in,” I replied.
Thick fog starts to roll out from deep within the cave. In less than thirty seconds, I’m surrounded. It’s so thick I can’t see anything around me, and my flashlight barely penetrates five feet ahead of me. I can’t hear or see anything. It’s so eerily silent even my footsteps don’t make a sound. Is the fog affecting my senses? Nobody’s warning reverberates in my head, straining my ears for any noise.
There is no warning, no sign of an attack, just teeth bigger than my finger and a jaw the size of my torso bursting through the fog. It’s only my enhanced speed combined with years of fighting that allow me to avoid getting bitten in half. The brief glimpse I get of Javier’s form is terrifying. Gunmetal gray in color, the body is bigger than my car and powerfully muscular. He jumped and landed without even scraping against the ground. This is going to be harder than I thought. I drop low, ready to dodge at the slightest disturbance.
Where will the next bite come from? From my right, the monster’s mouth emerges mere inches from my face. I fall back and plunge my knife into it. The blade pierces his skin, and he growls, disappearing back into the fog. Everything is still. This Jaws reboot sucks. There is no sound of dripping blood or breathing from Big Phish. How’s he so quiet when he’s so fucking huge? It’s gotta be the fog; it somehow makes him undetectable. The moisture from the fog is making the floor wet, and my boots shift as I crouch down, anticipating another attack. I close my eyes; they aren’t helping right now and focus on my hearing. I’m waiting for the faintest noise or the slightest bit of wind from him moving around. There is sudden movement behind me, and then the creature’s tail comes swinging at me like an out-of-control Quickrail. I throw both arms up to block, and it sends me crashing into the cavern wall. It hurts, but Javier has nothing on Virtue. That girl is a real monster.
Before I can get up, he leaps at me. I tilt my head out of the way of his chomp and use my right arm to prevent him from getting any closer. With him this close to me, I can get a much better look at him. He’s like a great white shark mixed with a polar bear. He’s got four legs, each ending in nasty-looking black claws and bone-plated spikes on its back instead of fins. I see four rows of teeth inside a lipless mouth, small black orbs for eyes, as he gnashes his teeth together, trying to eat me.
“You’re not making a good case for yourself. In fact, you’re being a bit of a dick,” I said, struggling to keep him away.
One of his paws is pressing against my Kevlar vest, and his claws are shredding through the vest effortlessly with every movement. He isn’t responding to my words anymore; he is so utterly absorbed in trying to devour me. I’m done trying. With my free hand, I start punching him in the snout. Are noses the weak point of sharks? God if only I watched more Shark Week growing up. My punches are only serving to make him angrier. I’m superhumanly strong, but this creature is entirely tough muscle. It’s time for plan B. I reach my free hand around to the top of the monster’s head, running my palm across it until it bumps into one of his eyes. They are wet and slimy, and I can’t get a grip on them. Settling for penetration, hah, I jab my index and middle fingers into the orb. They don’t pop; eyes are less water balloons, more moldy fruit. Big Phish writhes, his claws slicing into my skin. I continue scooping and scraping, flinging the goop away. It's like a back alley abortion. Instead of weakening him, it feels like he’s getting stronger. A cornered animal will fight twice as hard. Each spasm worsens the pain in my back and chest.
I can’t reach the other eyeball, and I don’t trust myself not to get chomped if I try to switch arms. My knife is buried somewhere in his side, but nowhere I can see or reach. He’s less difficult to deal with when he’s this close to me, but eventually, his claws will end up in my intestines. Reaching into the eyehole, I jab my fingers around, trying to dig deeper and find a nerve cluster or anything. I can feel my fingernails getting gunked up with shark bits. I’m gonna need a manicure after all this. He thrashes against me as my hand roots around inside the hole I’ve created.
Pound for pound, I am stronger than Javier, but he's got well over two thousand pounds on me. His thick skin isn't necessarily tough; it's just so dense that I can't hurt him. The area beneath the eye doesn't have the same protections as the rest of him, so I go back to digging around the wound I've made, tossing the bloody chunks aside like I'm carving a jack-o'-lantern. He’s slowing down, but I got plenty of fight left in me. The fog around us is growing thinner the longer we struggle against each other.
Eventually, I hit bone and cannot scoop anymore; Big Phish has run out of gas, lying still against me. Tentatively, I push the exhausted shark creature off myself. The fog has completely dissipated since he stopped moving. Now that it’s gone, I can see how truly massive he is. He’s twice as long as I was tall when I was Constrictor and his limbs are as thick as my thighs. Big Phish is one big fish. There are twelve rocky barnacle protrusions along each side of his body. They look like hand-sized volcanos and inside is tightly constricted skin. There’s a joke about starfishes here waiting to be made. That must be where the fog comes from.
I give him a few kicks with the top of my foot just to make sure he’s not faking. He’s alive but exhausted. The next thing is to check on myself. My Kevlar vest is in tatters, just shredded to bits. Honestly, I might be able to turn this into a nice top. I take it off, along with the bag I brought, and look at the damage to my abdomen. My beautiful pecs and abs have lacerations all over, with bits of ripped skin hanging from the sides of the wounds. Kai said that my natural healing can handle a lot, but I’m gonna need to bandage this. I take off my pants and use my knife to cut them down to shorts. The cut cloth becomes bandages to dress my injuries.
Inside my bag are the chains I brought, and I get to wrapping up my gift. The chains aren’t going to be able to contain Javier, but they’ll make moving him easier. Once I have him completely secure, I test to see if I can lift him. Reaching under his stomach, I cradle his body and lift. He’s heavy, but I’m four times stronger than I used to be, and he weighs less than a car. Javier’s skin is still wet and keeps slipping out of my arms. This is why I brought extra chains. I jury-rig myself a harness that will allow me to squat the shark creature. No shirt, ripped cargo slut shorts, and chains crisscrossing my chest, I look like a caricature of gay BDSM culture.
My hands and wrists are wrapped in thin strips of my pant legs so I can get a better grip. It takes me a minute or two to adjust the chains, but I’m able to get the giant monster secure. Bend the knees and lift. Each step is fraught with danger and the possibility of falling over. I advance toward the cave entrance and the warm sun. Exiting the cave, the fresh coastal air floods my nose. Time to deliver the fish to the doctor. I look up at the cliffside and sigh. The climb back up is going to suck.
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Five days rest, and I’m back to a hundred percent. Nobody has Big Phish’s ability and the man shark is no longer amongst the living. The deep gashes are gone, and my perfectly smooth black skin is back to normal. Phantasmo is next on my list—thirty-three years old, real name Miles Martinez, and a genuine grudge against Capes. He’s a monstrous Alter/Traveller who can phase through objects and fly. His flight isn’t that fast, however, similar to a running speed. Phantasmo is a squatter and small-time thief. Info says he tried to be a Cape and they denied him based on appearance. Some powers radically change your appearance, and it is seemingly random. Shifters are lucky because it doesn’t matter what their other form looks like; they can always change back and do a press conference or an interview. Most don’t get lucky enough to be like Titania. All that changed for her was her body’s composition, but other than that, she looks like a regular woman. But those like Big Phish, Phantasmo, and Carapace are trapped inside these new forms. I’d still be stuck if it wasn’t for Nobody.
He lives inside an abandoned toy store and only uses his power to steal what he needs. His hideout is close enough to Carapace that if I don’t have to fight him, I can handle them both tonight.
Sal’s Game Shed is a dilapidated and defunct building that Mother Nature has almost completely reclaimed. The sign is missing letters, all the windows are boarded up, and the outside is covered in ivy vines and moss. A warning spray painted on the walls says, “Beware of Ghosts.” I pull around to the back of the store and park at the loading dock. I brought a backpack identical to what I had during my Big Phish adventure. I’m hoping Phantasmo will be more responsive to my offer.
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The back door is unlocked, and I creep inside. It’s dark, and the air is stale and musty. Every step I take disturbs the accumulated dust, sending a cloud of it everywhere. The shelves are empty and covered in cobwebs—old cardboard promotional material of a discontinued toy line clutter the floors. This place looks truly abandoned, but Nobody wouldn’t have sent me if he wasn’t here. I’m stepping carefully over the rotten wood and rusted metal covering the floor to move silently. I hear the telltale sounds of a generator running ahead, and I follow the sound. Here goes nothing.
“Phantasmo, you in here?” I yelled.
“Why are you here?” Said a voice from right behind me.
I clamp down on my automatic response, leaving my guns holstered. If I hadn’t been told about his ability, I might’ve just killed him. Turning around, keeping my hands visible, I look at Phantasmo. He’s shorter than me, probably around five foot eight, with a large balloon-like head. His eyes are inhuman, dinnerplate-sized, and with greyed-out irises. Phantasmo has no nose, no ears, and a small slit for a mouth. He is hard to look at. His eyes take up eighty percent of his face. His body is stout, sexless, and covered in thin tassels made of skin, like a flesh gillie suit. He honestly looks like an alien from the movies, down to his gray pallid skin. I thought I had it bad being Constrictor; I would’ve killed myself if I looked like him.
“Hello, Phantasmo. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Isaiah Jules, and I’d like to talk to you about an opportunity.”
“I’ve never heard your name before. What are you doing here?” Phantasmo asked cautiously.
“I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of me. I recently underwent a bit of a makeover. I’m representing an anonymous party who is interested in you and your unique condition,” I answered.
“Pass. If the anonymous party can’t even meet me face to face, then I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” Phantasmo said.
“Aren’t you tired of being alone?” I asked.
“What?”
“It’s lonely being a monster. Waking up every day and remembering you have no one. Being disgusted by the face staring at you in the mirror, knowing you’re going to die alone because no one could ever love a freak. The seething rage boiling beneath the surface at life for inflicting this curse on you, battling the urge just to end it all and free yourself from the torment,” I said.
Phantasmo doesn’t respond, staring blankly at me. I’ve been where you are, Miles. Don’t make me kill you.
“I used to be like you, a disgusting creature, a freak of nature cursed to live out his days as a monster. I know what it’s like to be scorned based on your appearance,” I said.
“I won’t lie; it felt like you were looking into my heart for a moment. I’m sorry, but am I expected to believe you? You, the guy who looks like he walked out of an ad for Hottest People Magazine,” Phantasmo retorted.
“You think so? Thank you. But believe me, I used to be an eight-foot-something lizard person, hairless and covered in scales—tail and all. I was miserable, depressed, and feeling hopeless. And then, I happened to meet someone who would change my life forever. Now I have a purpose,” I exclaimed.
“Sorry if I call bull. You sound crazy, like a religious nut,” he responded.
“I don’t believe in a higher power. I’m a material man interested in things that are provable. You know, tangible shit; silk shirts, cold steel, and fat asses. I’m not a snake oil salesman; there’s a way for you to be human again,” I said.
“This ain’t funny. You show up out of the blue and offer me a chance to be normal? This doesn’t feel right; there’s a trick here, I know it,” Phantasmo said suspiciously.
“I’m not just offering you normalcy. I’m offering you revenge: revenge against the Heroes’ Union, who deemed you too ugly to serve, and against the people who shunned you for their shallow views. I’m talking about revenge against a world that forced you into living in squalor, to steal just to survive. Look around you, Phantasmo. You aren’t living; you’re waiting to die,” I said.
If he's anything like I used to be, then this should work. He’s desperate for a way out.
“So what’s it going to be? Stay and here and waste away, or take your life back into your own hands?” I asked.
“I’m in,” Phantasmo mumbled.
“Speak up and say it with your chest,” I said.
“I’m in!” Phantasmo yelled.
“Excellent, Miles. Yes, I know your name, and I’m done calling you Phantasmo. It’s a stupid fucking moniker,” I said.
“Because, of course, you know my name,” he said sarcastically.
“I came prepared. Before you are granted freedom from the prison that is your body, I need you to help me with something. Nothing too bad, there’s just someone else who I’m making this offer to today,” I said.
“It’s someone else like me, right?”
“Yes, a woman known as Carapace. She isn’t located too far from here.”
“I’m happy to help, especially if it’s for someone going through the same thing as me.”
Phantasmo follows me to the truck. This went a lot smoother than Big Phish. He’s noisy as hell, making no effort to silence his footsteps. Miles hops in the passenger side as I turn the engine on. I’m tempted to bring him to base now so that I don’t have to ride around with such a scrub.
“I’m a little intrigued by whoever sent you, especially since you aren’t scared by my appearance,” Phantasmo replied.
“Scared, no, slightly nauseated, a little. Kidding, I’m kidding. The person who sent me is someone I would follow into the depths of hell if they asked,” I said.
“They sound impressive, even without the ability that they can fix people like us,” he said.
“You have no idea, Miles,” I said, pulling out of the lot.
“And Phantasmo isn’t a stupid name,” he said.
“Whatever you say, buddy.”
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Something I learned on the way to Carapace is that Miles loves talking. I’m a great listener, as any person interested in the fairer sex should be, but Miles does not shut the fuck up. Years of isolation have left him desperate for a connection and completely socially inept. I can’t wait to introduce him to Rorschach, she’s going to fucking hate him.
The sun is still up when we arrive at our destination. Carapace is a Ruler, capable of creating insects within her own body. Everything about who she was before she triggered is lost; even her real name is gone. I’m expecting a repeat Big Phish. Carapace has taken residence in a cabin inside a state park. I park the truck near where the intel said she lives. It isn’t hard to figure out what direction we’re going in; there’s thick, unnatural webbing covering the trees. Far larger and more abundant than any spider could possibly create.
“You ready?” I asked Miles.
“So this Carapace, what’s her deal?”
“Ruler, insectoid, and probably not going to be thrilled with us trespassing on what she thinks is her area,” I answered.
“Wait, you didn’t say she would be hostile,” Miles said.
“You’re the one who didn’t ask me any specifics on the hour ride up here. If you weren’t so obsessed with the sound of your own voice, you might have been privy to mission details. You aren’t afraid to fight, are you?” Don’t tell me he’s a little bitch.
“Okay, that hurt a little bit. I’m not scared, though. I’ll follow your lead. What’s the plan?”
“The plan is straightforward. We’re going to break into her house so that I can make her the same offer. It’s foolproof,” I smiled.
“That’s not a plan,” Miles complained.
I check my equipment once we’re out of the truck. Miles watches me as I carefully inspect my twin glocks. Next is the knife attached to my belt and the two in my boots. I brought a few flashbangs and my secret weapon, a few eight-packs of Raid. Nobody said that the creatures she creates aren’t any known insect; instead, they are an amalgamation of several particularly nasty variants. Phantasmo doesn’t have anything to check; he’s ready to go as soon as I finish.
I walk into the dense foliage with Miles floating along behind me. The leaves combined with the bridges of silk above us mean that visibility is low, and it’s much darker inside the forest than outside. I keep my eyes peeled and my head on a swivel, looking for an ambush. Or a stray tree root. Miles is quiet, which is a plus when I’m trekking through the murder forest of freak bugs. Fifteen minutes go by, and nothing has happened. We haven’t seen a single bug. As we’re marching ahead, I finally notice something that’s been bugging me. It’s dead quiet. There’s no sound of a breeze going through the forest, no chirping of birds, no sound at all.
It isn’t until we can see the cabin that the other shoe drops. Cocoons are hanging from the roof, silk coffins based on the vague human shape. Bursting out of the cocoons in a spray of green liquid comes a swarm of bugs. Buzzing fills the air, a cacophony of fluttering wings that is so loud it hurts my ears. The insects are the size of a clenched fist, with six sets of wings, green and purple striped bodies, and long barbed legs like a spider. Their mouths are a mix of mandibles, fangs, and proboscis, with crimson compound eyes on their oval-shaped heads. Despite all of that, the most terrifying thing is their segmented stinger that curves downward toward their thoraxes—pointed and barbed for maximum pain. I really hope they can’t pierce my skin.
Looks like she isn’t going to be too susceptible to talking this out. I count around fifty of them flying at us, and I don’t bother trying to talk to them. I don’t know if Carapace is like Rorschach in that she can hear and see out of the eyes of her creations, and I honestly don’t care. I pull both guns out and start shooting. I’m no marksman, and I don’t have an ability that affects my aim or coordination, but when they’re so many of them, it’s hard not to hit something. My bullets clip wings, pop heads, and blow chunks out of their bodies. Unfortunately, unless I kill them, they continue to drag themselves at us along the ground, crawling forward in an attempt to slow us down. One of the bugs jumps off the ground at my face, and I swat it away, covering my hand in bug guts. The yellow juice bubbles on my skin. Why wouldn't the bugs have acid blood?
I shoot another bug out of the air and hear clicking coming from my guns. Fuck, I’m out of ammo. I dive out of the way of the incoming insects to give myself a second to reload. I take a look over at Miles, and he's gone intangible. He isn't invisible, but he's become translucent, and his form is slightly muddled. The insects are flying straight through him and slamming into the trees behind him. Every so often he becomes corporeal to swat a few out of the air with a branch. My original headcount was wrong. There's gotta be at least a hundred dead on the ground.
“We need to press forward and reach the cabin. Carapace has to be inside,” I yelled over the buzzing.
“If you have a real plan, I'm all ears,” he shouted back.
“I do.”
I reach into my bag and grab a flashbang. I prime it and throw it at the biggest cluster of the creatures. Facing away from the blast, I shield my eyes as it goes off. I hear the bang followed by thuds as they drop out of the air. Turning around, I see a lot of the bugs are perfectly still on the ground, stunned. Others that are farther from where the grenade went off are tragically failing to move.
“I'll be back. Kill em before they can get up,” I said, tossing a knife to Miles.
I don't look to see if he’s doing it. I leap over the downed insects, rushing toward the cabin like a running back. Holstering my guns, I put my head down and shoulder charge through the door. The door explodes inward into chips and chunks as I look around for Carapace. The inside of the cabin is basically one big web. Everywhere I look is covered in the shit, and I can't get through it or cut it. I grab some webbing in front of me and pull. It holds for a moment before snapping at the ends and immediately clinging to my palm. Shaking it loose isn’t an option, and I’m afraid if I try and wipe it on my pants, my hand will stick to them.
“Carapace? You in here?” I asked.
“WHY ARE YOU BOTHERING US?”
The voice has a raspy, buzzing quality to it. It is high-pitched in a way similar to a tea kettle boiling. She’s in the bedroom down the hall, based on where the voice is coming from. I can’t see down the hall from where I am stuck in the living room/kitchen area.
“I’ve come to talk to you. I have a proposal I think you’ll be interested in. Why don’t you come out here?”
I hear multiple legs tapping along the ground as Carapace comes down the hall. She’s truly monstrous in a way that Constrictor, Big Phish, and Phantasmo never could be. She looks like an insectoid centaur out of Lovecraft’s wet dreams. Rusty auburn chitin covers a body similar to bacteriophage. Eight segmented legs emerge out of the bottom of the base of her vaguely oval-shaped form, each ending in small hooks. She has no arms and no head. Instead, there are faces all over the body comprised of a mandible mouth and compound eyes. I count over a dozen of them in random spots along the bloated chitonous frame. I think I’m gonna throw up.
“WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE? TELL US!”
“Ouchie, Let’s try our inside voice, huh?” I said.
“YOU MOCK US?”
“Nope, sorry, just a little bit of humor. You know, try and lighten the mood. I’m not gonna bullshit you here; I know someone who can fix you. Make you human again instead of this abomination,” I said softly.
Sometimes, the mouths speak in unison, and then they’ll speak independently. Does she have multiple brains inside that body?
“ABOMINATION? YOU DON’T BELONG HERE. YOU MURDERED US. LIES,” they said.
Carapace creeps closer to me, and a few of the mouths start coughing. Thick green saliva leaks out of them as the insects from outside begin to crawl out of the maws. Oh, what the fuck. Immediately, the freshly birthed bugs fly at me. I grab a Raid can and spray it straight into the face of the nearest one. It takes half a can before it drops to the ground, twitching. Okay, Plan B. The B stands for bomb. I empty the remainder of the can I’m holding into my bag and chuck the bag into the center of the room. Dashing toward the door, I turn and shoot the bag as I leap through the busted doorframe. The explosion sends me flying through the air.
I skid along the ground, wet with the acidic blood of the dead insects. Miles floats over to me, looking at me and then the cabin. Before either of us can speak, the cabin starts to burn. All the webbing is accelerating the fire, and soon, the wooden cabin is ablaze. NO! Nobody needs her alive. Carapace’s many mouths are shrieking in pain as I run back into the burgeoning inferno. Inside, everything is burning, including Carapace. She’s melting rapidly, and already, two legs are stumps. The fire is very hot, but my skin is durable enough to hold out. I don't waste any time and jump across the room, wrapping my arms around the flaming creature. She’s hysterical and thrashing around, but I’m strong enough to drag her out of the blazing building. I toss her onto the ground and roll her around to put out the fire.
“C'mon Miles, let’s get the fuck out of here. I need a shower,” I said, dragging Carapace by the leg.
My clothes are burned away by both acid and fire. Miles trails behind me, floating silently like a specter. I can feel his large eyes boring a hole into my back as we walk back to the truck. He wants to say something. He helps open the back of the truck for me. Inside are chains attached to the walls and ceiling of the truck, along with faded bloodstains on the floor. I throw Carapace in there, wrapping her body and remaining limbs in chains. Once we’re driving to the base, Miles’ curiosity becomes too much for him to restrain.
“You told me that there was somebody you had to see after me. But I didn’t think to ask if there was someone before me. What would you have done if I had said no?”
“Your name was on my list, along with two others. I genuinely wanted to try and spare a few people from the fate I once suffered. But no matter what, all three of you were coming with me, one way or another. I’m a Cowl, Miles, and nothing gets in my way.”