Fuck rats. Whatever series of evolutionary traits caused rodents to exist to only then go on and create rats should've been eradicated a long time ago. It was bad enough when the creatures were shorter than a full-grown man or couldn't breathe fire or leap twenty feet. Back when they were the disgusting little things that could sometimes be mistaken for mice. Well, that wasn't exactly fair. Oliver would bet good money that at least some of them had mutated to be more passive and cuter, but he also knew they would only make it out of the nest in pieces after the nastier variations had made breakfast of them. A heavy sigh left his lips. It sucked even more that the more malicious versions he faced this time had developed shark teeth.
One of the rats circling him suddenly broke formation and lunged at Oliver, this one appearing to have some variation of the cookie-cutter shark's strategy. Marveling at how the rat managed to have so many teeth in its mouth, Oliver suddenly felt his skin ripple, the skin around his arm breaking down and replacing itself with a layer of thick black chitin precisely where the rat was lunging. The creature bit down and bit down hard. He could feel the pressure on his arm, it was uncomfortable, with no pain, but it reminded him of when he got his wisdom teeth removed while on anesthetics, just a large amount of pressure. As it turned out, Oliver's initial guess had been only half correct. The outer layer was definitely some form of chitin, but underneath was some sort of rubbery blubber, allowing the chitin to stretch and shift on his arm, allowing for greater flexibility.
'Alright big man, what's the next play?' Oliver thought to himself as the rat swung and twisted violently on his arm as it struggled to find and keep purchase. His question was answered shortly afterward as he felt his other arm ripple. The bones in his bicep and forearm elongated to an unnatural length as the muscles stretched and tore before reforming at double the length, his skin bubbling and pushing to conform to the sudden change. His hand collapsed into a single point of sharpened protruding bone with jagged ribbed sides. Bones in the shoulder itself extended out and back with a layer of fat forming for what he could only assume to be cushioning. By the time change was done, his arm was very much reminiscent of a lance.
With a glance at the rat currently attached to his arm, he silently cursed. A long-range weapon for a close-range target. Great. He quickly turned his attention to the three other rats, who, seeing their comrade not immediately vivisected, grew the courage to move in. His body must've not seen the rat currently on him as a threat, and while that may have been true -- as it was only trying to bite through the chitin -- it didn't mean it was any less uncomfortable to deal with.
Oliver twisted to face the rats. Taking aim, he pulled his arm backward, feeling the stretch of the muscle fibers loading his arm before it clicked into place like a crossbow. Oliver hadn't expected his arm to physically stop itself from extending forwards, which allowed the rat to close the distance and pounce. The creature flew through the air with unbridled glee directly toward his face. In a panicked frenzy, Oliver jumped back and shot his arm forward. The force was so overwhelming that even falling, the shot jerked Oliver back upright onto his feet. His aim was off, that much was clear, but it didn't seem to matter as the creature simply evaporated into a cloud of guts and viscera.
Throughout all the months Oliver had begun fighting and training, there was only one thing he could never get used to. The sight of blood wasn't too bad; it became a bit much when guts got involved, but the blood was fine. As was the smell of death. No, no, the worst thing was the physical feeling and sound. When his body transformed, it seemed to keep the nerve points. It felt like he was bursting a water balloon with his nails. The crunch of bone as his shoulder broke from the sudden force and subsequent bubbling of skin and reknitting of bone and muscle fibers didn't help. In disgust, he loaded his arm once more.
With a newfound wariness, the two remaining rats backed up momentarily, one more so than the other. With caution, Oliver observed the rat as it stood on its two hind legs and started making a choking sound before a ball of something escaped the rat's mouth at a speed of a fastball. It flew across a short gap between them in under a second. Oliver's body managed to form another chitin layer on his chest where the spit would land. The chitin formed but didn't manage to cover everywhere as the spittle exploded on his chest with a hissing sound. He didn't need to look down to see that it was melting the chitin and burning his exposed skin. Oliver charged forward, vision blurred with pain, ignoring the closer rat and heading straight to the acid rat in the back.
The acid rat attempted to turn and scurry away. However, Oliver's arm extended forward and skewered their flank before they could run. The barbs extended outwards once inside the rat to give even greater purchase. He pulled his arm back, the rat coming with him before he lifted his arm to the ceiling and unloaded his arm, pushing the creature further onto the skewer, breaking the tunnel ceiling, and killing the creature.
The third rat was much the same. Sensing the fight was done, Oliver's left arm dropped its spear transformation and quickly began reorganizing itself into a normal human arm, the various rat parts getting pushed off as it reformed. His right arm remained semi-chitin as the cookie-cutter rat was still attached to it. The creature writhing angrily and with clear disdain.
Oliver waited a moment for his left arm to change again into a knife or something he could use to dispatch it, but after a few seconds of waiting, it was apparent nothing was going to happen. The rat was so pathetic. It just kept trying the same thing. He briefly thought about adopting the thing before thinking better of it. With a sigh, he walked to the nearest wall before placing the rodent's head between the chitin forearm and the brick of the sewer. With a fast series of swings, the rat quickly lost consciousness before its head splattered against the wall.
"What a fucked up day," he half yelled in frustration and relief. His legs shook, and he thought about collapsing but knew that if he did now, he'd either throw up or break down. He held his hand out. It was shaking slightly. Clenching his hand into a fist, he unslung into his backpack and pulled out several small cubes. He placed them on the ground, each glowing and expanding several times before they began floating in the air.
The size change was due to the box's mechanical compaction and the floating due to the electromagnetic plates in the roads above.
Truth be told, the fact that it worked like that was a complete accident. On the surface, it worked because the road would repel the boxes, but the people who built the streets hadn't actually considered the sewers would work as well since they'd attract the boxes upwards—a lovely oversight on their parts. It was actually sewer workers who had accidentally found out that little exploit and used it to carry their tools instead of using the much less effective rail system implemented years prior. Technology had been evolving so fast that yesterday's discoveries were useless tomorrow, so people were always trying to put out their new products as quickly as possible before they became obsolete. Oliver had gone to a museum on a date a while back dedicated to the tech at the change of the century, and there were so few options and varieties. It blew his mind how simple everything was back then. He was a bit envious of their situation.
With a grunt, Oliver began loading the rat corpses into the floating boxes, one corpse per box was all he could fit, and even then, he couldn't fully close one of the boxes without breaking a few bones. He hoped the authorities would only ask a few questions. He was just there to collect the reward, not to expose his secret to the entire world. He passed by a few of the other nests he had destroyed on his way through the sewers, but none of those had mutations to the same levels as the last ones he had fought, so the corpses wouldn't be as useful or worth nearly as much to the authorities.
This had been his third excursion into the sewers that week, and he had managed to deal with a substantial amount of the infestation. In truth, he wouldn't be able to fully get rid of the rat infestation. Even if he killed every rat in a three-mile radius, rats in a five-mile radius would simply move in and start reproducing here. Places with food attract rats. It didn't take a genius to figure out why they'd move further. He couldn't clear it forever, but he could stall things until the city managed to find the equipment or technology to deal with them. Plus it would allow construction workers and plumbers to do their job that much easier.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
After a few minutes of walking, Oliver found himself at the access shaft that led up to downtown Newarcus. He began taking a deep breath in to mentally prepare himself before catching a whiff of the sewers and almost choking as a result. The adrenaline was finally wearing off. His mind finally caught up with him and, with it, his sense of smell. He'd rather be blinded than breathe in heavily again, and so quickly made his way up the ladder.
From a pothole in a side alley, Oliver peaked his head out and was immediately flared with the full force of the multicolored city streets, the intensity of which felt like it belonged high in the sky with the sun rather than here on earth. With great exaggeration, he pulled himself up and began walking towards the police station.
Ads littered the ground, the walls, the large tech billboards, and even the very sky as hundreds of drones flew in formation, lights blinking, to advertise the next La Burger or newest implant. He couldn't even focus on a single ad. As soon as one popped into his view the flashing lights from somewhere else would cause his eyes to flick to that instead. They were all advertising some useless thing or another, a new movie, a magazine, a new play, a new phone, a new implant. One of the more massive screens had "Breaking News" talking about the US and China's "New" trade war. It didn't matter what it was. It was all just new shit, and it pissed him off for some reason.
Oliver felt his skin ripple once more, this time around his jaw and the nape of his neck as his vision suddenly and violently expanded. His brain couldn't even comprehend it for a moment. He could see behind him and to the side. Full 360-degree vision with everything covered except directly above his head. A piercing headache filled Oliver's mind as he stumbled into the nearest wall, his now five eyes closing as he stood there in shock. He hated coming out into the city at night. It was so loud, bright, and noisy. It wasn't the first time his body had reacted to the city. He couldn't control his power. His body, or perhaps his unconscious mind, or maybe even another entity inside his head, decided all of that for him. Even when he didn't want it. Even if it hurt. He still had bills to pay. Expensive, bullshit bills, so he'd keep coming into the city.
Gritting his teeth and pushing a sigh out between them, Oliver flicked his hood up before opening his eyes and continuing toward the police station. He didn't stand out, well he wouldn't have if it wasn't for the tears and holes in his clothing from his recent excursions, but even then, he just looked like a more impoverished person. Unlikely to get a date if he walked up to someone right now, but that was about all the consequences of his disheveled appearance.
Another fifteen minutes of walking passed before Oliver arrived at the police station. It was funny to him. No matter how much everything else improved, government buildings were still as run down and shitty as ever. He wondered where his tax dollars were really going because they sure weren't going to these buildings. For fucks sake, the doors were still push-pull based. Making his way through the doors, he breathed in stale air before putting on his best smile. A few years of customer service helped with that one. It was bizarre, everyone knew it was fake, but they liked it better if you talked to them like that for some reason.
---
"Hey hey hey, I got another batch for you guys' ." Oliver barged past the normal regulation waiting area to absolutely no one's surprise. The waiting area had little use now. No one came to the police station for much anymore, not since policing had become a privatized business. Their job had now been relegated from response to glorified traffic organizers. Poor saps -- most of them had joined up hoping to make a difference in the world, but now all they were seeing was useless unfulfilling paperwork.
He was greeted by a few hello's and a few grunts, but nothing more until he stopped and knocked at the captain's door, where he got a neutral "Come in ."The room was fairly plain, basic boss set up, a trophy case, a large open space with their desk near one wall, and a few chairs stacked against the opposite wall. The room's color was unique at least -- a dark burgundy red. No chair on the visitors' side. The captain had always had it organized that way. Oliver was curious to know if forcing their visitors to stand was some sort of sick power play or simply because they wouldn't stay as long if they had to stand. Either way, Oliver grabbed a chair resting on a nearby wall and brought it over to the desk before taking a seat.
"If it isn't Oliver! It's nice to see you again. I'll be honest. I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon, not that I'm complaining. You always bring the most fascinating things. So what do you have today?" The captain spoke as they turned to face Oliver with just the hint of a smile. Her tanned Ochre skin mirrored the unblemished, almost plain room. Her shoulder-length wavy brown hair was carefully pinned away from her eyes. She was young for their position. Being a police captain by age 28 was challenging, even with strong connections and a flawless record, neither of which Paris had. She had come from a poorer family on the west end and got into many fights growing up. Oliver would know. She had beat him up more than once back in the day.
At first, Oliver had thought the rise in her position was due to the lack of officers, but Paris had cleared that up quickly. While there were fewer police officers in total, the police chiefs normally kept the same amount of people under them. When funding dropped, they'd simply cannibalize another precinct, increasing the area they officially worked over, and the two chiefs would duke it out for the position, sometimes literally.
"Straight to the chase huh. No, 'Hi, how was your day?' or 'I'm glad you're safe?"
"I said I'm not complaining to see you so soon. That'll be all the niceties you get off me today. Plus we both know we are both busy people. You with your scavenging and me with the city. And before you say anything we also both know there's no way in hell you'll be giving anything you find over to the wardens. Which leaves me or any random person looking to buy these things off of you and one of those options is very illegal". Paris placed her hand on the table and began drumming her nails on the wooden table.
"Oh noooo. The mall cops will come after me on their segways" he let out a small chuckle. "I'm not an enemy or some political rival, I'm just here to give you some things I saw. No need for unpleasantries" With that, the cubes floated over to Paris and opened up, allowing the chief to inspect their contents individually. She wasn't particularly scared of touching them, but she wasn't stupid. She had seen one of her men reach into a box like this once and get part of their hand melted off by some particularly strong stomach acid.
"Report?"
"One of them appears to have shark teeth, another with some sort of acid spray, the other two seem to just be larger."
"Why'd you bring them then?" Paris raised an eyebrow questioningly toward Oliver. He normally wasn't that sloppy. For Oliver's part, it was a very fair question, why had he brought them? The more common variations didn't pay anything. It had slipped his mind when he started packing them in the boxes, but now he had to make up an excuse.
"I found them with the two special ones, they tend to group together by ability, so I thought there might be something that I didn't see ."Most of what he had just said was bullshit, but Paris wouldn't know that. Most people didn't know how mutants functioned half the time, just that they existed and they were a pain in the ass.
"We'll send them to the labs just in case then, but until then we can only give you the reward for the two ." Paris tossed him a small thin square. Oliver caught it and quickly scanned it with his implant before pocketing it. "So," Paris continued, "Have you run into what's been killing all of these things"?
"No, not yet, I've been fairly lucky so far. I think it might hunt during the day. I've never seen any signs of whatever it would be during my night trips, so I should be safe".
"That's good to hear. Well then if you don't have any questions-"
"Hey," Oliver hesitated before speaking, "I don't know if you're allowed to tell me this, or if you even know, but has there been any progress on an anti-mutation drug? Or anything else in that field?"
A long silence drew out into the room as Paris stared at Oliver blankly before she finally spoke.
"I'm afraid I can not disclose that information as it is heavily classified" she stared at the ceiling for a moment, "It's not that bright in here, don't you think? Kinda wish there were a few more lights."
With a heavy sigh, Oliver turned to leave, "No, I suppose it isn't."
With that, he headed back onto the neon streets and back to his apartment. "I just suppose we have to hope for the best huh sis." he spoke to the air around him before the breath in his throat caught, "and the days don't stop huh."