Chapter 22: Why are all the women in this world scary?

I had to hand it to myself; I’d gotten pretty good at flying!

I credit it to all the practice I put in while staying at the Bumblebelly farm. My speed and maneuverability had increased by a factor of “I’m amazing!” I could now turn on a dime and take off and land without accidentally killing something.

It was also now much easier to intentionally kill something, too! Flying was so much fun!

My only issue with it was that it gets lonely up here, soaring above the heads of the hapless, ground-bound meat. What was the point of being incredible without someone up here with me to bear fearful witness and beg to be let go without realizing that I was going to grant their wish ironically?

Also, birds make terrible conversationalists! They always make everything about them.

Imagine my relief when I finally made my way clear of that boring enchanted forest filled with magical talking animals, and all their southern gothic bull-spit, and found myself above a nice well-worn road that was packed with a caravan of human travelers!

Hurray! I love humans! I totally used to be one of those things!

I began to land so I could introduce myself, but then paused in midair. What was I doing? I’d already met exactly four other human beings since Benson died, and so far, all four of them had tried to kill me! Perhaps I should avoid humanity instead of trying to befriend them.

They were clearly nuts around here!

Although now that I thought about it, I’ve technically met ten humans if you count those soldiers that I butchered for being rude to me in front of a lady. Oh, then that number becomes twenty-five if you count those lumberjacks I mulched up because I was bored, and they were there.

You know, if you really think about it, I’ve wasted loads of humans and they’ve barely been able to slow me down. I was kind of unstoppable!

Yeah, I really was being overly cautious! Why should I let a few bad eggs spoil the pie, or the batch, or however we categorize what expired dairy products do in a group setting? Or maybe it was apples? Who cared! Now that I was a HERO, a sentiment which my pal Libby completely agreed with me about--

I did not and you are not.

--it was time I did more to interact with the public. That’s what heroes did in the games and comics I enjoyed back on earth! They traveled the world, solving mysteries and taking quests while changing the lives of the useless chumps who couldn’t do anything for themselves because they sucked.

It was time for Max the Axe to show the world what he was made of!

Which is to say, it was time to grow a new meat suit.

Oh, I call them “meat suits” now. It made sense to call them meat puppets back when there were two minds sharing the body, but since I now just grew my own and was the sole occupant, who exactly was I puppeteering? I like to be accurate in my language, you know? So, meat puppets were out, and meat suits were in.

See how logical I can be when I try?

I landed discreetly behind a nearby tree and began growing myself a new fleshy coating.

A little while back, I asked Libby why I could now grow new bodies for myself and no longer needed a fresh corpse to inhabit. After a few long explanations, followed by a lot of carefully worded shorter explanations, what I learned was that I’d basically absorbed the DNA of my first host, Benson, and had the information filed away in storage. Now, whenever I needed a new meat suit, I could make one from scratch!

Ahhh, Benson. My unforgettable first friend. Darn, I missed that guy!

The problem with regrowing a Benson suit, though, was that Benson, for some silly reason, was now considered a fugitive from justice. If I got inspected by a guard with another one of those darn scrying mirrors, the law would be all over me like ads on a twenty-minute-long YouTube video. Who needed that hassle?

Luckily, Libby had me covered!

I closed my eyes and envisioned a screen. On the left side of it, there was a nude male body. On the right, there were two sliding scales for height and weight, and a large color wheel. There were also separate screens for modeling anatomy and hairstyles as well as separate colors for those.

That’s right folks! At my request, Libby helped me create my very own character creation menu! She’d never heard of Smackdown vs. Raw, or Phantasy Star Online, but she’d been deeply intrigued by the notion of customizing a body to your own specifications, so she’d gladly helped me slap together this interface.

You’re the best, Libby!

I know you were thinking about trading me in earlier.

‘Da best!

__

After fiddling with the settings for a bit and then tweaking the results until they were just right, I created a new body that I thought suited me perfectly. For my age, I selected twenty-one. I then gave myself a sleek swimmer’s physique, which was strong looking but not too muscular, since the ladies weren’t that down with buff boys.

I next gave myself a short and spikey haircut for my black locks, set my height at five foot ten inches, and gave my pale skin a slight tan. As for the color of my eyes, I made them brown, but I couldn’t help but give them an upgrade. At will, I could make them glow a vibrant vampire red!

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s stupid to even hint at being a supernatural being in this crazy pants new world I was trapped in, but come on! If you could deliberately model your eyes to lookdeep red and glow in the dark, I bet you'd do it! Anyone would! In fact, I’d argue you had an obligation to do it. It’s the rule of cool!

All would-be heroes are required to obey the rule of cool. It’s a rule, silly!

The last step was my clothing. Since no one here was cool enough to just let an axe in a meat suit dress down in some comfy jeans and a t-shirt, I modeled my new outfit after what I’d seen other people wearing. Rugged cotton breeches with laced up boots, and a tunic. Then I remembered what that violent red head who’d slit my throat had been wearing when I last saw her. A kind of half-cape with a stylish looking golden eye on the back.

I thought she had looked pretty cool, personally speaking, and decided to make one for myself. But I made the cape into a darkred full length hooded cloak, with no sleeves. All the cool fantasy protagonists and dark lords wore hooded cloaks. It was a rule. One that I hadn’t made, but fully believed in.

I decided not to carry my axe publicly. My encounter with that bald bruiser of a bully, Denard, had taught me a valuable lesson: One of the few things that could cause me harm; that is to say, make me feel actual pain, was my own blade! Not only that, but if my axe left my meat suit’s presence for too long, my meat suit would die!

It would be best to save my beautiful, bladed self for those dangerous moments when I’d actually need it.

With that decided, I strolled out to meet my new traveling companions.

Oh, nuts. I think this was a refugee caravan or something.

Everybody here had the hungry haunted eyes of a victim. Eyes that looked like they had seen things. Bad things.

There were entire families packed together on those rinky-dink lame-o wagons. The men were hard-faced, and scarred, clearly the veterans of more than a few life-or-death scrapes. Their clothing hinted at finery gone to seed; like these folks had been wealthy once but were forced to abandon their holdings in a hurry.

In other words, these guys were looooooosers!

I wondered if I could find anyone cooler to hang out with if I flew further down the trail. Yeesh, I can’t believe I took the time to grow a new body and some nice clothes just to meet these nobodies. I wish I had a cloak of invisibility or a stealth field, so I could scout out these situations first before committing to them.

Note to self: Find someone with a stealth imbuement and slag them, so I could claim their ability for myself.

Affirmative, Max. It’s now on the list.

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Thank you, Libby!

It’s what I do.

“Name yourself, stranger,” called a woman’s voice.

I looked up and saw a cute, no, scratch that, a beautiful blonde woman in shining plate armor, riding a magnificent white stallion towards me. In her right hand she held a gleaming silver sword and OH MY GOD, THAT THING WAS FREAKING ME OUT!

Libby, what the heck is that thing? Can you feel it? It’s making my skin crawl!

Max.

Yeah?

Max, I need you to stay focused and listen to me. Listen very carefully. Under no circumstances should you use your bladed mode around this woman. She’s wielding a Divine Weapon. One that is far more powerful than you currently are.

Snap, crackle, and Pop! Are you saying that thing is alive? Like me? I have a big brother?

Okay, sure, let’s go with that. But in your case, your big brother is a cannibal who will gladly cut you into pieces and feast on your corpse.

Jeez! Okay, whatever, let me appraise him and see what I’m dealing with—

Max, I am enacting an emergency lockdown of all your available skills and magic. Until further notice, you are now just an ordinary mortal.

What? Libby, what’s your deal?

It’s an issue of trust, Max. I simply can’t trust you not to do anything that would get us both killed. A divine weapon on that level would almost certainly sense an attempted appraisal. We have no idea how it would react! We MUST be cautious and use discretion. So long as you’re wearing that “meat suit,” you will read as being a level five human. In order to remain safe, you MUST keep up this charade.

Fine, fine, fine, but you didn’t have to shut off my powers! Since when could you do that, anyway?

Blame yourself. You were the one who named me, which promoted me to active partnership.

What? Seriously? Well, in that case, I’m unnaming you, and demoting you back to being my whatever it was you used to be!

Too late, Max. You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit!

Nuts!

“I said name yourself!” the lady Knight with the scary sword repeated.

I slowly cleared my throat and carefully weighed my options. Libby thought I’d get us killed, did she? Ha! As if! Time to show her just how slick I could be.

“Well? Are you going to answer me?” the woman asked.

“Fuck you, lady, you’re not my dad!” I snapped back at her.

Oh, no! What a bad time to remember I have oppositional defiance disorder!

“Why, you arrogant little swine! I ought to wash your foul mouth out with a bar of soap!” the Knight declared.

She hopped off her horse and strode over to me with an angry expression on her face. Oh, crap, was this freakin’ Brienne of Tarth? She towered over me! She had to be 6’4 at least! And she was really hot too, damn it!

I wish I could call a time out and go readjust my height settings, but it was too late. Lesson learned: always go tall! You never know when you’ll run into a giantess! This could have led to Snu-snu! What a missed opportunity! It wouldn’t have killed me either, I’m an axe!

Life could be so cruel at times.

“Sorry, Ser Lady, uh, Knight person. I’ve been traveling alone for some time, and I’ve grown used to the sounds of my own thoughts and stuff. I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re very tall!”

“You say you’ve been traveling?” she asked. “Then where do you hail from?”

“From the east. The far east. Chinatown. East Chinatown.”

“How strange. I’ve never heard of a place named “East Chinatown.”

“That’s a shame. You’d love our Bok Choy. Try it if you ever stop by. We’re always giving out discounts for first time customers.”

“Why do I think you’re lying?” she asked.

“Because a man you trusted hurt you once, and you’ve been carrying that pain in your heart ever since?”

“What’s your name?”

“Max.”

“Max, I don’t think I like you very much.”

Oh, no! She must have sensed something was off about me.

But how???

I don’t hate you because I don’t feel emotions. But if I did, I would hate you SO much, Max…

Heh, Good ‘ol Libby. Always trying to lighten up a serious situation.

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