Wes decided he could hold out at the Capriano Hotel for the next few hours. He just

needed a place where he could wash up and think about getting new clothes without

having the police called on him.

Some of the police worked for Delveccio.

So he was on the east side of the city. The Capriano was on the west, near the beach.

How did he get there without a car?

Could he become the monster again and fly there? Was that part real? He decided it

had to be since he had to pull his clothes on after reaching the streets. He didn’t relish

flying around naked.

He wondered if there was something he could use for clothing when he transformed.

Maybe there was something out there he could cover himself with when he

transformed but he had never heard of such a miracle substance. He decided to think

about that when he got to the hotel and found an empty room he could hide in until

he could figure out what he was going to write with the material he had stolen.

Maybe he could call around and find something he could use. There had to be other

heroes with clothing problems out there. How did they handle things?

He touched the four diamonds on his hand and changed into his two dimensional

other self. He pulled himself out of his clothes and wrapped part of flat body around

them and his files. He took to the air and headed toward the beach.

Wes swam through the air. He was glad it was nightfall hiding him, but he really

needed clothes he could wear in his flat form. He reached the hotel roof in plenty of

time. He also didn’t want his power running out while he was doing something

extremely dangerous.

Maybe some kind of rubber suit that stretched when he stretched and returned to

normal when returned to normal would be the way to go.

How did he get something like that?

He pulled on his clothes on the roof and went to the fire escape. He climbed down

until he reached a window at the end of a hall. He jimmied the lock with his pocket

knife and climbed through the window. He needed to find an empty room without

letting the clerk know he was hanging out on the premises.

He might be able to use his power to sneak around and search the register. He could

just sign himself into a room and then sign himself out when he was ready to go.

Being flat would make him hard to see, and he could stretch a lot so he could hide

most of himself while he was getting a room. He nodded to himself. He could do that

instead of his original plan of just taking a room and hoping he wouldn’t be

discovered by housekeeping.

And staying under a fake name would help him against Delveccio when the man got

around to looking for him. If they checked the car after the explosion, they knew he

was still out there with the material he had taken.

At this point, he wasn’t sure he could admit he had the material.

He paused as he entered the stairwell. He sat down on the steps. Did he actually have

any proof of wrongdoing since he had taken the evidence from someone’s home? Had

he poisoned the well with his actions?

Was he going to end up like Marsden?

He still had to get a room, and get some rest. Then he could puzzle out the rest when

he was fresh and ready to go.

At least every time he transformed back, he felt better. Maybe turning into a flying

ribbon was healing up the damage from the car crash faster. He liked that. At one

point, he couldn’t walk, and now he could. He still had some pain, but it was nothing

like what he had felt right before he had been struck by that meteor.

He worked his way down to the lobby of the hotel and cracked the door open to look

out. He saw the desk clerk sitting behind the desk, book in hand. He needed to sign

in while the guy was distracted.

How did he do that?

The clerk was bound to see him even if he was flat against the floor.

Why were things always tougher than they had to be.

Wes looked at the clerk. The man refused to move under the intense gaze. His nose

was in his book.

He touched the diamonds on his hand and slipped out of the stairwell. He reached out

and took a better look at the clerk. The man was sleeping. That made things easier.

He grabbed the registration book and slipped back into the stairwell. He looked for

an empty room to match the keys on the pegboard behind the clerk. He filled in a fake

name and an address for one of those rooms with a tentacle formed from a corner of

his body. He snuck the book back and grabbed the room key. He waited for the

transformation to wear off before putting himself back together and heading up to his

new room.

So he had two goals. The first was to get out from under Delveccio’s sights and

publish his story with the checked over information as a basis. Either that was enough

to spur the police into taking a better look at the mob boss, or it wasn’t. In any case,

he would have to look for reprisals for the rest of his life.

No gangster sat there and took it while a reporter pried into their affairs and wrote

stories about them. Examples needed to be made like Marsden.

The second thing was to get some flexible clothing for the weird other form he had.

Once he had that, he could try to use the flying flatworm to keep digging into any

mobster that happened to set up in town.

A mask to cover his face would be helpful if his power ran out and someone saw him

doing the type of extracurricular digging that got reporters news prizes, and papers

sued for slander.

He doubted he would step out in public like the old Scouts, or the Mark. It was rough

enough to be a reporter. Being a reporter and a masked man seemed a little too much.

He wanted to write his stories and blend in as much as possible. Throwing down with

someone like Doctor Sybil was not something he was ready to try.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

It was good thing the Doctor was dead and buried on Mars. Everyone knew he was

there. No one knew which mountain he was buried under.

Wes had no desire to look for the body either. Sybil had fought against the Mark

during the war, trying to carve out his own empire in the middle of what Hitler was

trying to do. The fact that he almost killed the Mark, and had killed some of the other

heroes of those years earned him no pity from the reporter.

And he had succeeded in forcing the Mark out of the public spotlight as a force for

good even if he couldn’t enjoy that victory.

Wes took off his clothes and thought about washing them. He decided he could wait

on that until he knew what he was going to do. He did look in the mirror and found

he was covered in bruises and cuts but they looked days old, not what he had earned

in his trip down the mountain.

Could the transformations be putting him back together, fixing the injuries he had

taken? It could be. No one knew what powers did to a person. He might have lucked

out and got something that would heal him up if he didn’t die immediately.

Maybe he could take a bullet, but decided it was foolish to try to find out how much

of a shot he could take.

If he got shot, and healed that up after becoming the flatworm, that was one thing.

Jumping in front of the bullet was just asking for trouble in his opinion.

He wondered how heroes found out what they could do. That was something he could

write a story around as long as he didn’t reveal his new power.

He decided to shower and get cleaned up. He would have to get clothes from

somewhere else before he could back out in public. He had to plan on how to get

around anyone watching the paper so he could turn in his work.

He could write his story anywhere, but he had to show the evidence and turn it in

person. He couldn’t expect the paper to open itself to a lawsuit just on his word. He

had to back up anything he said because the truth was an ultimate defense against

such a lawsuit.

Wes settled on the bed and decided to get some rest. He didn’t have a long time

before someone tried to find him. Eventually, Delveccio was going to learn he was

still alive.

They would then try to fill out him full of holes.

How much could his other form take if someone did shoot at him?

Could he heal that up using the tattoo to change?

Wes scratched his eyebrow and thought about what he could do. Maybe he should go

on the offensive and do something to Delveccio to persuade him to stop looking for

him. What could he do where he didn’t end up like Marsden?

He thought about his new ability to break in some places because he could fly, and

was like a blanket. He could elongate some of the corners to grab things, but he didn’t

seem to have a lot of fine control.

He didn’t seem to need to breathe, so what could he do with that?

He already had records that he could publish if he could get to the newspaper bullpen.

He could write everything up and then use his stolen files as a check. He could give

copies to the police, but everyone knew they supported Delveccio and would try to

stop him for their mob boss.

He didn’t know what he could do next. He had to keep moving if he didn’t want to

be taken in. Even though he had a room under a fake name, eventually someone

would turn him in and goons would be on his neck.

He thought he could get to the paper if he could get across the city to the newspaper

without changing back in the middle of the flight. He could use the roof access to get

down to the bullpen and his desk.

The only problem was would there be someone waiting to take him away once he

tried to type everything up and finish his story. He would have to be ready to call up

his flat body to do things before he could be exposed in the public.

He didn’t like the nudity aspect of things either. Turning back in the middle of doing

things could be embarrassing or problematic depending on what he was doing at the

time. He didn’t want to be naked in the middle of breaking into Delveccio’s house.

Wes could get a typewriter and write his story in his stolen room. Then all he had to

do was submit the story with copies of his evidence. Then he could just watch out for

the goons because they would be looking for him to retaliate.

They couldn’t let him live to testify on the authenticity of the records he stole. He

wasn’t a member of the police. It didn’t matter how the record fell into his hands as

far as proving things against Delveccio.

He would face jail for burglary while the mobster faced jail for money crimes.

And if they went to the same prison after their trials, Wes would be dead in a matter

of days unless he used his ability to escape.

He gazed up at the ceiling and wondered how long could he stay in the hotel before

he was reported to Delveccio, and someone showed up to kill him. How long would

it take for him to write his story? How long did his transformation last? What was

going on with that? Would it kill him?

The meteor strike Clancy told him about had to be the explanation for his new ability.

It didn’t tell him how long he had to live if the ability went rogue on him.

He needed to push for someone other than the city police to investigate his claims. He

needed to find a better place to hide. He needed a place only he could get in and out

of with his new flattening power.

He needed not to wind up like Marsden.

Wes decided that if he wanted to keep using the flat body, he needed to talk to an

expert who could point him to something he could use. He couldn’t call Mr. Robot

since the murder of the Hazard Scouts.

Who else could he call?

Flanagan Solutions might be the people to call about a sizechanging suit. There were

rumors that they had come up with clothes to handle powers since the war. They

might be able to give him something he could use.

At the worst, they could direct him to another company he could use to get the thing

he needed if he wanted to keep using his power.

He made a note to check into them. If he could get them to help him out, that would

make things that much easier for him.

He wondered if there was a story behind the company. There were rumors that the

first Rocket was connected to them, and some guy in armor in New York. How many

other heroes did they help out over the years?

He could do a set of stories based on that if he could turn anything up. He could

follow links to everyone to whom they had provided equipment. If they helped him,

he could write it from an insider’s perspective.

He doubted they would want this business in a spotlight. He had heard rumors but

Flanagan kept their problems to themselves.

There had to be a connection to the Rocket. Why didn’t they use that to get more

business for their company?

He decided that was some of the questions he could try to answer while he was

writing their story.

A noise came from the hall. Wes glanced at the door. Maybe laying on a bed in sight

of the door was a bad idea. He slid off the top of the bed and slipped into the shadow

of the mattress. He waited for someone to break in his door. The sound of someone

retreating from his door caused him to breathe again.

What would he have done if it was someone looking for him? He would have had to

use his flat body to attack. How effective would that be against someone with a gun?

Wes frowned. Maybe he should try to leave town. Maybe that would throw Delveccio

off enough that he could start his career over in some other city.

He couldn’t count on that. They had run him off a road and then shot at him when he

tried to get away from the crash. A small forest fire starting hadn’t stopped them from

trying to kill him.

If the explosion from the meteor and his body change hadn’t happened, he would be

dead because his legs had stopped working.

Now he was hunkered down, but eventually he would have to move. He wasn’t

looking forward to that. Either way, he couldn’t call Clancy from the room. The lines

could be checked, and that would lead anyone with the knowhow back to the hotel,

and then the false registration.

He could expect gunmen to show him the bottom of the ocean after that.

He could call from a phone booth across town. He could return to his new room with

a typewriter. He could write the story and get everything done before Delveccio could

stop him. The rest would have to play out in the court.

He might be just as much as a fugitive as Delveccio, but he would be alive and on the

run with some worry of killers trying to track him down to settle the score.

He should have went into some other line of work. You didn’t worry about people

trying to kill you when you worked in a factory.

Wes closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep. The next day would be busy.