Dun, Dun, Dun-Dun...

Dun, Dun, Dun-Dun-Dun...

Dun, Dun, Dun-Dun-Dun, Dun-Dun-Dun, DUN-DUN-DUN...

Bob hummed himself a little theme tune as he strode off to face the monster of legend. George got into it, adding a barking backtrack that really dialed up the tension. It's boring fighting in silence. Every good fight has a soundtrack.

From the corner of his eye, Bob thought he made out Sophie shaking her head and muttering something. He'd really shattered his image with her. He should have kept playing that cool, dark, mildly sinister mud magician character he had going. Instead, he'd made the beginner mistake of being himself. Amateur hour. You should always pretend to be somebody you're not. Oh well, he'd just have to redeem himself in this fight. Put on a good show and all.

Now to business. How were you supposed to fight a slime again. Bob opened the Encyclopedia Animetica. He kept it in memory at all times as a quick reference for post-integration bullshit. Slimes, slimes, here it is, Bob found the entry. Bob skimmed through the entry.

Amorphous, gelatinous creatures that can change their shape at will, yes, yes, commonly blue or green and mildly translucent, yes, yes, non-intelligent, generally considered low-level, starter zone monsters, yes, yes, resilient against physical attacks, except those directed against its core.

Bob closed the mental encyclopedia triumphant. The answer was always there. Anime instructs and the impressionable young man obeys. A core. Slimes are supposed to have some kind of "core" that houses the operational trinity, heart-brain-soul. Destroy the core and the slime will puddle into inert goo.

This was going to be easy. He'd find the core, shatter it with a pin-point mud dart and then march back to Sophie, where he'd be oohed and aahed for his heroic performance. All in a day's work. Bob examined the slime, combing through the enormous body, looking for the tell-told red gemstone. The slime was the most prominent light source in the area so it wasn't particularly difficult to see inside the creature. Bob checked. He double checked. He checked the check. He checked the double-check. He checked the check of the check. He checked... You get the idea. No core-like objects identified.

Bob stroked his beard-fluff. A slime without a core? He shook his head. No, no, he wouldn't accept it; it was impossible; it would overturn generations of well-established anime tradition. It would be an insult to an entire genre. A disgrace. A slime had to have a core. It didn't make sense. It was implausible. Even fantasy has to make sense doesn't it?

But why did a slime need a core again?

You know. Don't make me explain it to you. It's their brain or something. Do I look like a biologist.

Jellyfish don't have brains.

Actually, wait a moment, why on earth would a creature have such an obvious and exploitable weakness? Would evolution ever design such a death-star-like creature?

I'm indestructible, except, well, don't poke right here okay.

Why not?

Well, if you poke right there, promise me you won't?

I won't.

Well I'll just sort of fall apart.

Poke! Not so indestructible after all, ha ha ha.

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Well this new development had stymied Bob. He hadn't prepared himself for a world where anime logic couldn't be applied one-for-one to combat situations. No core meant no obvious weak point, meant a long and arduous contest with the slime river. Bob looked at Harry, his semi-sentient mud cloak, that could change form and solidity at will. Bob looked at his dagger, the last shard of Excaliborn (a ten inch spike of white horn). Bob looked at the amorphous, gelatinous monster immune to physical attacks. What was he supposed to do now? His attacks would do jack shit. Why had he agreed to face this monstrosity again?

And actually the slime was rather close now. It had picked up speed. It was traveling rather fast. Bob regretted making fun of its snailish pace. It was steaming towards him. It was speeding at him. It was like a freight train. The constant waves made its skin froth and rage; a pocket storm of deadly acid was charging at him. Bob wasn't sure he could get out of the way in time. Shit he wasn't going to be able to get away in time. What's the steering like on giant goo worms? Can they make sharp turns? Act now, think later. Bob picked up George and barreled off to the side. At the last second, he dived.

It was a close thing. A hair's breadth. Bob sighed in relief. He and George had cleared the slime train. They were safely off to the side. Thankfully the monster had decided to basically ignore them and just continue on in a straight line.

"Stupid slime, take that non-intelligent life form. We're all the way over here."

Bob stuck out his tongue and gloated. The monster ignored him, continuing on in a straight line. In a straight line to... Bob groaned. You know, that spot, where Sophie was leaning against a tree, incapacitated and unable to get out of the way.

"I thought slime didn't have brains. Then how come it's so fricking intelligent."

Outwitted by a slime. That's the kind of failure they write on your gravestone. There would be no oohing and aahing for Bob today. There would be no delightful gratitude or coos of "my hero." If they both made it out here, Sophie would probably be giving him a piece of her mind. Ok, Bob redeem yourself.

"Mud dart."

The Harry-coated Excaliborn missiled into the slime's torso; it stabbed deeper and deeper and then burst out the other side. Bob had put a hole in the creature. "Take that," he shouted. The goo knitted itself together, filling in the vacuum in less than two seconds. No visible damage. At least Harry seemed to be immune to acidic goop and had gotten out unharmed. Destroying his own companion object would have been really embarrassing.

"Harry, return." The cloak-dart weapon zipped back to Bob's side.

"I choose you. Go get 'em George!"

The dog bounded forward, barking playfully and looking back for further instructions. Bob pointed at the comically large wall of green slime.

"George, use flamethrower."

The dog barked his assent ("George, George") and unleashed the full fury of a fire-type golden retriever. Hellfire exploded into the Glibbermeister.

Unbelievable! It's a direct hit! The Glibbermeister won't be enjoying itself right now. But wait, will you look at that folks, it doesn't seem to have had much effect... Yes, it's clear now! That attack was NOT very effective! A tough spot for trainer Bob. What will trainer Bob do next?

Bob thought the commentator was overstating things. The fire breath had had a dramatic effect. Yes Bob had hoped the liquid goop was flammable and the whole monster would detonate in one glorious firework that would light up the heavens themselves. That hadn't happened, but a good thousand liters of the slime's biomass had been instantly vaporized. Bob had had to step back and cover his mouth as the toxic stuff billowed up into the atmosphere. But, you know, the slime was a mobile lake, it could drop a thousand liters here and there and not even look worried.

"George, return." The dog obediently trotted to Bob's side. So much for team Brown's offensive capabilities.

The slime was spiraling forward. It had reached the edge of forest. It was chomping through full-grown trees like they were sponge cake. The thick trunks incinerated as soon as the goo touched them and their canopies tumbled down suddenly foundation-less. Sophie didn't have much time. She'd been hobbling along as best as she could, struggling to put as much distance as she could between them. She'd gotten surprisingly far. It was almost like she'd started moving the moment Bob turned his back. Had the woman been trying to pull a fast one?

Oh ye of little faith. Bob was a creative genius. He had a plan to save Sophie. What, you doubted our hero? You thought he was just taking the piss. No, when had Bob ever let down his friends and family? Ok scratch that. When had Bob ever let down his friends? Never. He had had a plan from the very beginning. It had snapped into his mind like that. The problem was, he knew Sophie wouldn't approve of his plan. He knew she was positively hate it. He knew it would crater their blossoming relationship and make her revile his form and powers. The things we do for those we love.

"Mudfall!"