It all began, as you may know, on a bright midsummer’s day. With a mischievous elder sister and an introverted father. Running through the street with the peal of laughter following him through the street. And then, it was gone. The sun, the sky, his sister, his world.
And when he opened his eyes, everything was, for lack of a better word, hazy. It was as though he was viewing the world through some sort of foggy lens. And, to make matters worse, he could barely move. His limbs felt heavy and weak. Adam, with all the mentality of a cat in a fishnet, tried to beat fiercely against whatever was holding him, and, surprisingly, it worked, the thing keeping him in bursting like a water balloon, making Adam, along with a large amount of some sort of clear, whitish liquid, slide out and splatter onto the ground.
Adam tried to groan, but nothing could come out. He tried to gasp for air, but nothing would come in either. His head was suddenly flooded with panic, and he tried desperately to move his mouth, to speak, to scream, anything, but… no. Nothing. Silence. And it’s not like he was deaf, although that might have been worse since he could clearly hear things. The soft squish of air escaping whatever he was stepping on, the wind ruffling through trees, the faraway scream of some beast or another… But he, himself, could not make a sound.
In a state of clear panic, he started clawing at his face, or where he assumed his face was, only to find his hands blunt and soft, unable to do any sort of damage against him. The one thing he knew he had was his sight. He could see. Turning his eyes to his hands, he found them not even remotely hand-shaped, but instead like small, unassuming stumps, snowy-white in colour, glistening beautifully in the light of the white sun above. Adam started shivering. This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible. Had Henry pulled a prank on him again? Had Pete put him in some big-eyed girl VR simulation to have fun with him??
Now, Adam may have been quite dense, but… yeah, actually, that’s it. Adam was dense. And so, he reluctantly came to accept the fact that Pete had put him in a simulation for fun. It made no sense, none at all, but it was better than believing himself to have transformed into… whatever it was he was, without any hope of return.
Adam was, at this time, a mere slug. His skin was ivory white, and he had three pairs of small, tentacle-like limbs, although they were laughably short, and could do nothing more than slowly scoot Adam forwards. Other than that, his only two distinguishing features were his white, tired-looking eyes, and the single blue ring sitting on his back like a lopsided halo. Adam, believing himself to be in no real danger, confidently strode forwards. Very slowly. Veeery slowly. After about only five minutes of effort, dragging himself like a fat sloth across the grassy ground, he found himself far too frustrated to continue.
He wanted to scream and shout and bash somebody’s brains in. But, with his body being as it was, neither of these options were particularly plausible. In fact, as he was, it was impossible. But he couldn’t do anything else. In his head, he screamed at Pete to let him out, and using two of his legs that weren’t scuttling him forwards, he waved fervently, hoping somebody would notice him. Had Adam been a smarter man, he might have understood that waving his hands to be noticed was hardly a good idea, especially in the dense vegetation that made up the strange forest he was in. Adam could not recognize any of the trees of flowers or anything, hell, even the grass had a strangely minty tint to it, and although he couldn’t see any creatures other than himself, he had a feeling he wouldn’t recognize them either.
Eventually, the small, white sun in the sky settled itself down, and a brilliantly white, very small moon rose. Adam barely noticed this, however, since he could easily see in the dark. But, what he did notice was the increased activity in the forest. The bird’s song had died down, and what remained was the hiss of the wind and the soft mumbles of movement. Bushes rustled, grass was crushed, and all through it all, the snowy white Adam made his way in one direction, not realizing how big of a target he had on his back.
And, soon enough, inevitably, something else noticed Adam, before Adam could notice it. Not that Adam could have defended himself against it even if he did notice it. It had been following him for a little while, remaining in the bushes, stalking his every move, licking its chops in preparation.
It was young. It didn’t understand the world yet, but it was old enough.
Adam should have noticed it earlier, what with the rustling becoming more and more often as his stalker grew less inhibited, but he didn’t. After a while, he must have noticed it, since he stopped for a moment, turned around, and came face to face with a Latias Pausa, or a Charmeleon Puma for the less cultured. Adam did not know what this creature was. All he knew was that he was staring into the emerald green eyes of a large, sleek bush. No, on closer inspection, it was not a bush. It was just a large (very large) wildcat of sorts, with long, green, fluffy hair that, since it was somewhat fatty, clumped together into large cow-licks that closely resembled leaves. If it hadn’t been for the gleaming claws and the opened red maw, he wouldn’t have realized it was a wildcat at all. Or was it a puma?
They stared at each other for a second, and then, it pounced. Even if Adam had wanted to scream, which he did, he was unable to do so. His small tentacles flailed pathetically as his gelatinous body was scooped up into it’s drooling maw. Sharp, carnivorous teeth sank into his tender, weak flesh, causing jolts of pain to bolt through his small body. As if stabbed with electric wires, his whole body tensed up and spasmed out at the same time. If he could’ve seen it, he would have seen the impossible: a grinning cat.
It didn’t seem too intent on actually hurting him, only chewing down occasionally. But each time, he felt one step closer to death’s door, and the only thought resounding through his head, the one thought attempting with all it’s might to escape his sewed-shut mouth, was “it’srealit’srealit’srealit’srealit’srealit’srealit’srealit’srealit’srealit’srealit’srealit’sreal,” looping endlessly like a broken record. In the back of his mind, he wondered, “why haven’t I been killed yet?” Maybe he tasted bad? Maybe he was actually poisonous? But that didn’t seem to be it.
Eventually, after what had felt like years, he was released, bouncing to the floor like a soggy, misused squeaky toy. He glanced up, his tired eyes moving over the face and body of his assailant. It looked indifferent. Barely amused. Was his life so little worth?... Adam shivered, flinching at the wave of pain accompanying his unwitting movement. The puma didn’t react. It simply stared at him, as if it was waiting for something. Maybe… Maybe it was letting him go?...
Adam tested his theory. One step, two steps… He couldn’t fight it. Three steps, four steps. It was beyond him. Five steps, six steps. He didn’t want to die. Seven steps, eight steps. He didn’t want to-, nine ste-,
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A humongous paw slammed into his side, his body rippling, skin tearing apart, releasing his white gooey insides from its fleshy prison. Claws tore at his gelatinous form, and before he could even understand what was happening, he was in the air, being flung between paw and paw, falling only to be hit with the force of a truck and sent barreling through the air once more. At this point, any fight left in Adam had been totally and completely abandoned, replaced by a meek apathy. If he still felt pain, he didn’t react to it. If he was still afraid, he didn’t show it.
After an hour or so that felt more like a year, the giant, house-sized cat rolled over, let Adam fall, sniffed his limp, lifeless body, and trotted off. Adam could not move. He had hoped the cat would simply end his humiliation and suffering right there, but it didn’t. Was it a cruel joke, perhaps? Had God done this? If not, then who, or what? And why?
Adam laid there, unmoving, unthinking, for a couple of hours. Sometimes, some razor-toothed monstrosity would lumber up to him, sniff his bleeding body a few times, and wander off. His body healed, his flesh regenerated, his skin reconnected itself, but his spirit remained broken. With a new sense of hopelessness, Adam slowly got up and moved into the forest once more. This time, however, he was more careful. He stuck to the shrouded bushes, never allowing himself to be any more visible than needed. Finally, after so long, he found a small hole in the ground wherein he might find shelter from the outside world. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel cold. Or hungry, for that matter. It was as if any human features he’d previously possessed had been completely replaced with this sluglike form.
The little hole was not empty. At the very bottom, he found a small rat looking creature, with six legs instead of four. It seemed afraid of him. Adam’s first thought was to befriend the small thing. Perhaps they could survive better together? But, as everything seemed to have as of late, this idea came back to bite him in the ass. The Rattice, as it was, attacked fiercely, squeaking and screaming and clawing and biting. Had Adam still had his human body, dealing with a pest like this would have been simple, especially since he had dabbled in martial arts (at Pete’s request), but in this clumsy body… he wasn’t so assured of himself.
The battle was rather short-lived, and although Adam had thought he would be unable to beat the Rattice, he soon found himself mounted atop it, with his small, unassuming stumps wrapped tightly around its neck. Ignoring the frenzied scratching and screeching, Adam pressed down, his head swimming in red and his body somebody else's. And then it stopped moving. Adam wanted to take a deep breath, to pant, to feel as though this had done something, but it hadn’t. His mind was filled with burning red static and he couldn’t think. It wasn’t dead, he knew that, and he was glad it wasn’t dead. He didn’t want to kill this poor thing. He’d broken into its house, after all, not the other way around.
Adam hoisted the unmoving body upon his back and crawled back up the hole, where he dumped the Rattice in the entrance. Then he crawled back down, and sat still, unmoving, not knowing what to do. He didn’t like the silence. The nothingness. He didn’t like having anything to do, but… it was his situation.
Deep in the hole, without anything to do or anything to see, he felt as if he would go mad. But he knew that escaping would only bring him more pain. Remnants of the pain and humiliation still lingered in his plastic body. In the core of his being, rage flourished. He was beaten by an oversized housecat. Not even beaten, played with like some dollar store squeaky toy, and left for dead!
Adam hated how angry he felt. He hated the rat. He hated that he’d wanted to kill it. He wasn’t a violent man, was he? And yet… if he’d had a heart, it would have been beating out of his chest, even now. He didn’t know how long it had been. Down there in the darkness, time passed differently. And, with nothing else to do, Adam was forced to turn inwards and dabble in the one dark art he had never felt the need to do much of: introspection.
So, there he sat, like a sea-pig on land, thinking. The first thing he noticed was that, although he didn’t possess any actual organs, there was something else in him. Something cold and hard and sharp. Sometimes, when he wasn’t thinking about anything else, nothing at all, he could touch it, feel the cold mist sweep over him, the absolute zero within him affect everything around him, and when he opened his eyes, he could swear he saw gleaming crystals of ice in that tunnel.
But, in his meditation and explorations, he could not notice his thinning body, his drying skin, his tired eyes. Eventually, he could feel the coolness within him subside, and he knew something was wrong. He tried to move, for the first time in God-knows-how-long, but… he couldn’t. His body simply wouldn’t move. He felt empty. Everything within him was cold. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not in some God-forgotten hole dug by a monster rat in a monster world.
It couldn’t end like this.
Any way but this…!
For a while, Adam couldn’t do anything but slowly and methodically observe the gradual deterioration of his own body. An arm fell off, another was frozen solid. The only reason he hadn’t died yet was probably due to that strange regenerative ability he seemed to possess, the very same that must have saved him after that puma had attacked him. It was surreal, really. He felt the pain, and yet, he could also analyze the situation as if it wasn’t him dying. Perhaps he was in denial about the whole thing, or maybe he secretly hoped that he might return back to Earth if he died, but the end result was the same. He felt like a stranger in his own skin.
And then, all of a sudden, like a bad memory sneaking up in him, he heard a sound. It was faint at first, a few pebbles rolling down, bumping into his shrivelled-up form, some embedding themselves, followed by the soft patter of feet, the dragging of a tail, the soft sniffling of a predator. Adam did not find this worrying in the slightest. Instead, a morbid curiously washed over him, wondering “what can it be? How will I die? What will it look like?”
It was the Rattice.
Something about it had changed. Adam was absolutely sure it was the very same creature he had strangled who-knows how long ago, but it seemed… older. The grey was lighter, and it had not only a pair of wicked scars but had also lost an arm. How long had he been there?... Adam did not know, and neither would he ever know. He was later able to hypothesize that he must have been in there for at least three to four years considering how little Magick he had used during that time.
Nevertheless, seeing such a familiar-yet-different face was… eerie. It made him realize that time had, indeed, passed. That hole hadn’t been some sort of cryotic chamber where he could sit and watch himself gradually fade away, life had actually been going on around him.
The Rattice sniffed the air suspiciously as if trying to make out whether there was another presence in that small chamber with it. There was. Slowly, the glowing yellow eyes turned to Adam’s shrivelled up body. He wasn’t sure if he saw it wrong, but it seemed to him as if that overgrown rodent was… sneering at him. It’s whole body straightened out and puffed out as it confidently approached, all previous scuffles forgotten.
It really was quite large. Before, Adam’s body had easily been able to overpower this squeaking sundance of an animal, but now… He couldn’t even move. All he could do was await the Rattice’s slow approach. It stood right beside him, smirking jeeringly. And, without even so much as a sliver of hesitation, it took a bite right out of his side. Adam would have jerked to, maybe even ran away, had he been able to. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead, he lay there, pathetically observing the rat taking large chunks of his flesh as if it wasn’t his business.
But it was!
He didn’t want to die, did he? He didn’t, right?!
But no matter how much he tried to rile himself up, it was useless. He couldn’t feel anything. That flame he’d had so long ago was gone, extinguished, replaced by a cool coldness in his chest. Cool… coldness? Oh, yeah, there was that, wasn’t there? In his chest. Deep in his soul. Adam felt it. It was weaker, more lukewarm, but it was still there. He reached out, he touched it, and…
He opened his eyes again.
That old croon had gotten well through half of his chest, gnawing away as if it was nobody’s business. But it was. It was Adam’s business. Using strength he didn’t know he still had, he rose a single tentacle-like dendrite-looking thing, and, feeling the coldness concentrate and grow within it, he reached out, and the Rattice, not expecting the seemingly dead creature to move, was touched.
It froze instantly.
Adam, unable to take all the Magick being ripped from his body and crudely forced into the Rattice, passed out on the spot.
But he would survive.
And survive he did.