Chapter 217: 5.38

(Hello there!) I yelled in Praying Man’s head. (Are you still awake?)

No response, not even a stray thought.

I punched his head twice more for good measure. I would’ve continued, but the flesh around his head had thickened like a helmet of callus. I stood up and retreated as if it was getting dangerous, but continued to pump power into his body.

Veins bulged and pressed against his thinning skin, his muscles expanding rapidly. He was becoming larger and buffed, but not in an aesthetically proportionate bodybuilder way. It was like his individual muscles decided to grow as much as they could without a care in the world.

The pain that Praying Man suffered as he mutated into a freakish muscle monster wasn’t something an ordinary person could endure. If he were still conscious, he’d react by now. But I wasn’t doing this to check if the lights were out in his head. This was to show Deen I was right.

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed. “He’s becoming one of them!”

“I’ve told you that I can detect the parasites. They emit specific delta-waves akin to Adumbrae infection that disrupt normal human brain patterns.”

“What do we do? Is there a way to save him?”

How many times do I need to tell—ugh! “No, it’s impossible. The parasite has taken root in his brain stem. Any attempt to remove it will render him brain dead.”

“We can’t stop him from turning into a monster?”

“There’s no reversing the process.”

“Then he’ll lose his mind and attack us like the others?”

“Yes, that is inevitable.” What’s up with her line of questioning?

A flood of relief came from Deen, and I got my answer. She was repeating these questions because she wanted to make sure that Prayer Man was gone for good, along with the knowledge of her ‘Corebring’ abilities. My best friend was such a hypocrite.

And it was so entertaining.

“The-then what should we do?” Deen asked, already knowing the answer.

Her thoughts were turbulent. It was similar to when I paralyzed Lion Ass, and she hesitated to chop his head. Rewinding to Deen murdering some of the frat boys, I realized that she wanted someone to nudge her off the path of righteousness before she’d commit—this way, she’d somehow keep her ‘moral high ground.’

“Either he’ll go after us or the other people in this building,” I said. I focused on her with my eye, wordlessly asking her to decide our following action.

Her forehead wrinkled. “Maybe we should kill—wait! Pino, you can control the mutated humans, right?”

There we go, shifting the responsibility to me. “I’m hijacking its brain waves as we speak. It’s not always a certain process, but—got it, I’m successfully patched in.”

Praying Man grunted as he sat up. Twice as wide as before, his reddish skin showing through the tears of his clothes, he was now unrecognizable. As his fist expanded into the size of a ham, the prayer beads that coiled around his hand snapped, the individual pellets scattering on the floor.

“We should hurry and—” I began to say, but Deen suddenly pulled me down.

Something whizzed above us. She pushed me to hide behind Praying Man and crouched beside me. I turned to where the mysterious projectile landed. Three darts were buried in the wall. Those were supposed to hit Deen.

“What was that?” I ordered Praying Man to kneel and spread his arms to form a wall.

“The police,” Deen said a moment before the shooting began. Praying Man groaned as bullets hit his flesh. She talked louder over the gunfire. “A combat drone. Four legs, white with red and blue markings like what the police use.”

“It tried to knock you out,” I said, pointing at the darts. “They’ll check later if you’re human or not.”

“But now, they’ve decided I’m probably no longer on the human team.” She jabbed her thumb at Praying Man. His blood dripped to the floor, forming puddles. She ripped patches off Praying Man’s gray suit and fashioned them into a mask to cover her face.

“Good thinking,” I said. The gunfire became more intense.

I peeked from behind my puppet’s shoulder and received a couple of rounds to the face as a prize. Before hiding again, I saw a police officer in anti-Adumbrae gear exiting the room that was blasted earlier. And then another combat drone followed him.

The police were finally moving in, and it didn’t look like rescuing hostages was their priority.

Ordering Todd to throw the monsters out the window was premature on my part, probably even a mistake. It forced the police’s hand. I wouldn’t be surprised if the authorities assumed that an Adumbrae outbreak was happening because of the parasite monsters that attacked them outside.

Whoopsie.

“We should get going.” Deen tapped my arm and pointed where Imani and the others went.

I nodded. “Before more of them come.”

“And we should avoid fighting them,” Deen said.

She crawled away in a straight line directly behind Prayer Man. His pool of blood was spreading. Stronger blasts ripped out chunks of his hardened flesh. I connected my healing finger to him. It wasn’t exactly healing, more like patching things up at the cost of a person’s life force.

(Hang in there, Praying Man), I thought as I crawled after Deen.

Looking back at me, she said, “We shouldn’t kill the police,” as if she knew what I planned to do.

“But they might kill you.”

“That’s not going to happen,” she matter-of-factly replied. “Door to the left. That’s unlocked—I mean, let’s hope it’s unlocked.”

“I’ll go first,” I said. “If I can’t open it and the police shoot me, I’ll be fine.” Deen was guided by her Guardian Angel, so she couldn’t be wrong that the door was unlocked. But I wanted to build trust between us.

I lunged at the door. It opened, and I rolled through the doorway.

Deen dove in after me. Wood splinters and chunks of concrete showered her.

We were inside an empty conference room that wasn’t used to imprison hostages. But there were holes in the wall—a large one and several smaller ones that looked like tentacles had poked them. A person had climbed through from the neighboring room, presumably escaping the parasites there. Unfortunately for him, he was severely wounded and died due to blood loss on the floor of this room.

An intense explosion shook the floor. Praying Man roared in pain. Should I tell him to follow us?

“Order the monster you control into another room on the other side,” Deen said. Then she tilted her head towards the opening on the wall and hurried to it.

“To provide a distraction?” Was this the Guardian Angel’s idea? I mentally commanded Praying Man to play hide-and-seek with the police.

“If it comes here, we’ll be in danger.” Deen paused before climbing through the hole. “And, uh, a distraction, yeah, that’s it.”

“What danger?” I asked as I followed her into the next room.

This was another one of those rooms with a closed door, but the people and monsters inside had poofed away. They couldn’t have gone through that hole we just passed—only the dead guy next door ‘survived’ the mass disappearance. The Tea Party had some funny business going on here.

Deen distractedly said, “I’m not sure—lose control?”

“What?”

(Pino will lose control of the monster? Thanks for telling me, Gabe,) was Deen’s reply to her pet that she thought ‘out loud’ to me. Sensing a sort of relief and joy from her, I surmised that her Guardian Angel usually didn’t tell her the reasons for its instructions. She had told us that it would give only simple and short orders.

She clarified, “If the monster breaks free of your control, we’ll have to deal with it while escaping from the police. Better send it elsewhere as a distraction.”

“I get it.”

Then Deen raised her arms. The bony armor coated her hands and extended sideways until they connected to each other, making a handle of sorts. At the end of the pole, the head of a sledgehammer materialized. From blades, she had progressed to forming tools.

Watching as she demolished the wall so we could get into the next room, I pondered what she said. There was no way Praying Man would break free of my control. This must be her Guardian Angel sending me a message. Too bad it couldn’t just outright tell me what it was.

Explosions and gunfire continued, this time muffled and distant.

Praying Man must be doing a good job entertaining the police; I’d love to pay to get a video of what was going on. But my puppet’s ‘signal’ was weakening. He’d eventually succumb to his injuries or his life force draining to ‘heal’ his wounds.

Such a waste if I let him die like this. What does the Guardian Angel want me to do?

We entered the neighboring room. Deen barely paused to check our surroundings—another holding cell that was empty other than blood and black slime—before attacking the opposite wall.

Lose control? I examined my fingers, looking at the blue threads that only I could see. There was no way I would—then I decided to do what I initially planned. (Praying Man, destroy everyone and everything attacking you!) I didn’t know if he could still carry out my command. I could barely hear the sounds of fighting with Deen demolishing the wall.

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But if he could kill the police, that would keep them off our backs for a bit. They wouldn’t send in more men just to get mowed down by a dangerous ‘Adumbrae.’ I’d have enough time to look for my Erind body and Mom. Why is my list of objectives growing?

The next room was neat and clean. But instead of breaking down the walls, Deen gestured for me to exit through the door. “It’s safe now,” she said.

I didn’t bother asking how she knew.

We found ourselves a room past the staircase by the spot where Deen and Lion Ass had started their fight. Smoke and dust obscured the hallway. No more noises, but Praying Man was still alive. Barely. I’d have to get him back so I have a puppet to use before finding a replacement.

“Wait,” I called out to Deen. “I lost control of the parasite monster! The distance of the waves…” I made up some explanation so that it wouldn’t be my fault Praying Man killed the police officers. “I can detect it is coming here!”

“Can you reestablish control?”

We stopped running and stared back at the smoke. Praying Man emerged. He was missing a quarter of his torso—his arm, the right part of his chest, just torn away. His head was an unrecognizable lump of flesh and blood. Twisted metal jutted out of his stomach, the bladed legs of combat drones. His remaining hand gripped a severed human hand covered in metal plating.

Praying Man limped down the hallway, heavily hemorrhaging like a snail leaving behind a crimson slime trail.

“I-I’m not sure,” I said. I’m not even sure if I can still save him.

(Red blood…) That was the strong thought coming from Deen. Gnawing distrust directed at me. The appearance of Praying Man triggered something in her.

“The parasites got to him, right?” Deen said, brandishing blades on her arms.

“Yes, they did,” I said. “That’s why I can control him.” Indirectly, I was telling her that I couldn’t control normal humans.

His green hue dimmed fast, no matter how much power I injected into him. Boils grew on his body while clumps of his flesh fell off like melting ice cream—a side effect of my healing energy. The boils burst, spewing disgusting yellow pus mixed with blood.

Which smelled worse? That or the black—?

Black! Red!  This was why Deen suddenly became suspicious of me—more than before, anyway. My puppet didn’t ooze the black slime of the parasite monsters.

(Praying Man! Run away from us! Go as far away as possible!)

He did an about-face and ambled back into the smoke. I didn’t know how far our link could stretch, but he’d be nowhere near us when it’d break. Or dead. Yeah, he’d likely be dead before he reached the end of this floor.

“He…left?” Deen lowered her weapons. The white material unraveled and was reabsorbed by her armor.

“Lucky us,” I said, jogging past her. “We should hurry and find your friends.”

---

 

Up or down? Left or right? We traversed a labyrinth of rooms and corridors.

I didn’t know where to go, and neither did Deen. But she overtook me and led the way, guided by her Guardian Angel. She told me some vague shit that she could find traces of where the others went. It wasn’t like I had a better idea, and I didn’t want to split up, so I went along with her.

We went up another floor, running past office cubicles littered with a few corpses here and there—just random employees killed by gunshots, nobody we recognized. The absence of parasite monsters was also good news.

Then there were more rooms—some doors were open, but most were closed. No sign of Imani, those two nobodies whose names I forgot, or my Erind body.

Our silent jogging session was interrupted by faint sounds of explosions.

“Is that the police?” Deen guessed, warily looking left and right. “The BID?”

“Could also be the Tea Party setting off traps,” I said. They might be self-destructing this fucking place because of my stupid decision!

The police were constrained to attack because of the parasite monsters I set loose. No doubt, the BID was also on its way. But that meant the Tea Party assholes had to move their plans forward. With hostages, they had all the time in the world for shenanigans. Not anymore.

It’d be a disaster if they blew this whole place up. My Erind body and Mom would be gone! Disaster is a fucking understatement.

I was beginning to think that while Deen’s Guardian Angel was leading her to safety, it wasn’t the same place as my body. This fucking pet was using me to keep its master safe.

How do I convince her to find the security room?

In thriller movies, that was always the answer. The main character would replay security cam footage telling them where to go next. A bonus if some Tea Party assholes were there—we could torture them for more information.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” I asked Deen as a pretext to hinting we head elsewhere.

“Uh…yes, I think so.” Feelings of wavering were transmitted to me. She was also doubting her Guardian Angel. It had been a few minutes, and we hadn’t found a trace of my sort-of-human body. Then excitement welled up inside her. “Look over there!”

Just as when I was ready to criticize Deen’s Guardian Angel, it led us to a possible clue—a guy in a Tea Party get-up lying on the floor. Blood seeped through his balaclava and coated the white tiles. He was convulsing a bit. I could see Imani using her stun gun on him and bashing his head with her aug-arm.

“This must be them!” Deen gestured for me to pick up the pace.

“Yes, I hope so.”

After we turned the corner, we found another Tea Party goon slumped against double doors with an upper half made of glass. Through the windows, we could see that the doors led due to a wide office area filled with cubicles.

Deep gashes covered the Tea Party guy’s body, including a slit across his throat which might’ve ultimately killed him. Other than the red of blood, splashes of black painted the walls and ceiling. It wasn’t the slime of the parasites, but something much darker, almost like scorch marks.

“I suppose you don’t have any more friends with superhuman abilities?”

“You mean Imani? Didn’t you scan her?”

“I did. She has a normal human body. The only remarkable thing I found is her bioaugmentronics limb attachment. It has a built-in electroshock weapon module.”

“That’s what she told us too.”

“This”—I pointed at the fucked up corpse—“doesn’t look like the work of an electroshock weapon.”

Deen nodded. (Imani friends…Core…Jujub?) “She had mentioned that she has friends that are…like me.” She placed her hand on her chest where her artificial Core should be. “I think this is the work of one of her friends coming to rescue her.”

“That may be the case.”

This wasn’t the police, that was for sure. This wasn’t the work of the disgusting parasites either. Furthermore, some of the black streaks on the ceiling looked like feathers. Imani had mentioned that their leader, Jubjub, could make shadow crows or some shit.

We pushed open the double doors and found murals of black feathers on the ceiling and two more dead guys dumped among file cabinets.

Three, actually.

But the third one didn’t count as a guy. His…its—its head was separated from its body, showing a hollow core. It didn’t bleed; it didn’t even have flesh or bones. It was like a husk, a shell, an empty pot. I had seen this before.

“A trail of blood!” Deen leaped over the corpses and pointed at the floor. In her eagerness, she overlooked the peculiar not-corpse. “One of them got wounded. Let’s follow—” Her eyes widened. She rushed at me.

“What’s going on?” I said as she carried me over her shoulders, back through the double doors.

“Someone’s coming.”

“But I don’t detect anything.”

Deen held the handles of the door to keep it steady so that it wouldn’t betray us hiding behind it. “I can hear it with, uh, my superhuman senses.” She slowly raised her head, carefully peeking through the window. “Tea Party! Coming from the door at the left corner.”

I also checked them out, careful not to be spotted.

There were two of them, likely out to investigate their nonresponsive buddies. The guy in the lead had drawn his gun, prepared to shoot any threat as he kicked down cubicles. Healthy green outlined his form.

The second man was leisurely walking as if he was in the park. No outline at all, not green, red, or even just gray. I had gotten tricked by this before—a clay puppet of Finlay.

That guy has been alive for way too long.