The Painter, a corkscrew tower of images that even in stillness looked different with every passing second. Even the slightest of twitches threw its features around. I saw parts of faces at times in different spots on its body, a nose and philtrum, then a jaw and an ear. It was like at all times the Painter was trying to look familiar, but failing horribly, just throwing pieces of human likeness all over the place.
Which way was it looking? What would set it off?
No one wanted to make the first move.
Chase was in one of the adjacent rooms, watching this unfold. There were tinted windows on the walls to my right and left, along with sealed doors to those adjacent rooms.
Neve only had eyes for Daria, who floated on the water, still uncomfortably close to the Painter. Her eyes were open, she was conscious, but she stayed just as still as us.
Neve’s influence made my whole body ache from just standing here and it emphasized how weak I felt. The cold water needled my skin, the stale air stiflingly hot in contrast. My mind felt frayed, every thought that came was sharp and tore a hole through the previous one. The visceral nightmare of my recent suffocation had left my emotions tumbling into each other, mixing and getting confused.
I didn’t think I had it in me to assimilate the Painter. Back when I’d subsumed my first Aberrants, it had been simple. The experiences of others could be appreciated and then tucked away. But now those memories, those people in my head suddenly seemed hostile, demanding to be witnessed now, ready to capitalize on any cracks in my sanity. Had I been slowly making a terrible mistake this whole time? It was as if I’d been accumulating poison in my organs and symptoms were finally showing.
Daria met my eyes and I found myself moving. It doesn’t matter. I won’t let Daria and Neve down.
I waded through the water in the opposite direction to her, keeping my attention on the Painter. It only took a few steps for it to lurch in my direction. It was hard to judge how far and how fast it was moving, especially when it was coming directly towards me. It just got bigger, swelling to fill my vision. The threat of finding out what extreme pain might feel like while under Neve’s power was frightening. On a pain scale of one to ten, what did a ten feel like when the whole thing was ratcheted up past human thresholds?
The smear of foul-smelling flesh crowded out everything else in the room. Dark spots like bugs crawled across the oily, paint-like surface of its body.
I quietly lowered myself into the water, holding my breath. From beneath the water’s surface, I watched the utterly indiscernible form of the monster. The water stung my eyes fiercely, forcing me to close them. The Aberrant hadn’t struck yet.
Time ticked by, marked by the growing sensation of my lungs feeling like they were on fire.
I would have to gasp for air soon. It was time to face the music in the dark.
I breached the water’s surface and covered my mouth, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. I couldn’t see the light through the backs of my eyelids. It was still towering over me, blocking out the light.
Then I heard Seth cry out and something splashed in the water. The shadow left and I opened my eyes in a squint.
Seth’s arm was floating in the water, along with the dropped briefcase. I could see the attachment point on the arm, a socket with a metallic rod at the center instead of bone. Seth was clutching his shoulder, where petals were peeking out between the fingers of his remaining hand.
Nell had figured out how to remove his prosthetic.
Seth’s eyes went wide and he lunged towards the briefcase, ignoring the threat of the approaching Aberrant. Before he reached it, there was a spray of water and a flash of movement beneath the surface. Seth swore and came up empty-handed. With haste, he moved to the computer console and hit a few key strokes. The artificial intelligence on his shoulder, Apollo he had called it, watched me with its red eye.
The Painter halted for a moment, the abstract images carrying on for a half-second like fabric catching up to the motion of a body. The upper segment tilted, like it was contemplating something, then it continued forward towards Seth.
Seth cowered behind the computer desk, eyes wide with fear at the sight of his ally turning against him.
I ignored him and began scanning the water. The Fisherman had the briefcase. He would want to get it to Chase, but I couldn’t cover the other side of the room, so there was only one option. I moved in front of the door on my side and lowered my hands into the water, waiting to feel any movement.
The intercom crackled to life. “Really, Nick? That’s the best you thought up? I’m a bit disappointed. Let’s say I am behind you. What’s stopping me from-”
“HEY!” I shouted.
My ears rung from my own outburst and no doubt it was as painful for everyone else as they turned to look at me.
The Painter lolled to the side and then grew in size, leaving Seth.
Apathy washed over me as I watched the Aberrant approach. There was no point in hiding or running.
I heard the door crack open behind me, water sloshing through the gap.
Chase whispered into my ear, “Shall I ask you to wave your arms? Sing a song before you find out just how bad this heightened pain feels like? You’ll do it. You won’t care.”
The Fisherman surfaced on the other side of the room and he raised the briefcase, as if to show Chase he had it.
“Well this is quite the puzzle you’ve presented to me. I need the Aberrant away from this door and in doing so you’ve made yourself necessary.”
I stared at the wall of fractal faces leering down at me from every possible angle. The arms were moving among the images like snakes slithering through the underbrush.
“Such a stupid plan. Why don’t you just absorb it? But… oh,” Chase breathed, sounding pleased. “Something is going on with your Wolf-given assimilation, isn’t it? That’s why you haven’t used it. Oh now that is interesting. Is your Shape speaking to you, Nick? Mine is telling me all sorts of intriguing things about you. I-”
He paused as Daria sprung up from where she was playing dead, wrapping her arms around the Fisherman’s neck in a chokehold. The man fought back, striking behind himself to the best of his ability. His blows were weak but with Neve’s amplifier… Daria’s face contorted in pain as she weathered the blows. The Aberrant slid away from me, moving towards the commotion.
Neve started towards Daria.
“Stay back!” Daria shouted. “It’s coming.”
“But…” Neve started, before cringing away from the path of the approaching Painter.
Daria winked at her. “I bet you’ve hit me harder than this ugly fucker.”
Tears dripped down Neve’s face. “Only when you’re being an asshole,” she whispered.
The Fisherman’s eyes bulged as the Painter loomed. He tried to go still but Daria shook him side to side like a piece of bait.
“Want some of this?” she taunted, looking up at the monster with bared teeth.
It struck, smearing space.
The heavy blow echoed through the silent room.
Daria flew one way, the Fisherman flew the other. They landed and lay still, unmoving as they both turned the water black with their blood.
My apathy faded. Chase had released me, too late to stop it.
“Nick!” Neve said, turning to me, a dangerous look in her eyes. “Please.”
I nodded. “I got her. But she’s counting on you.”
Neve closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
The Fisherman had landed near Seth and he had reclaimed the briefcase. The Fisherman didn’t stir, floating facedown in the water.
When Neve opened her eyes again, she locked her gaze onto Seth. Her arm raised, pointing a damning finger.
“You,” she said.
Seth froze, the briefcase held to his chest with his remaining arm.
“I’m going to hit you,” she declared, expression hardening. Then she marched towards him.
Seth’s facade was showing cracks. “Wait!” he cried out. “You’ll draw the Aberrant’s attention!”
The Painter indeed stirred, gravitating towards the motion.
My focus was on Daria. I waded over to where she floated. Please have a pulse. Please.
The Painter halted, seemingly undecided on what movement it should pursue, while both Neve and I were unwavering in our missions.
Neve rounded the desk. Seth held the briefcase away from her, eyes flicking to the Painter. It seemed to dawn on him what a punch would feel like right now and his expression went slack. “Wai-”
Neve’s fist cracked across his jaw. He collapsed against the computer console, letting out a ragged scream, his face and limbs spasming.
I reached Daria. She was limp. I pulled her up and held a hand to her neck. Please please please… She had a pulse. But it was so weak, I didn’t think I would have felt it without Neve’s ongoing power.
“You can’t die,” I murmured. “Don’t leave Neve alone.”
This whole time I was fighting the urge to consume, that fire pressing against my skin, desiring what little pulse was left. There was something that was easier than holding that urge at bay. And that was pushing it outward, forcing that heat into Daria, not to take, but to give.
My flesh moved through my hands and into her. Memories bubbled up from deep within, ready to be shared. I hadn’t known Daria and Neve for very long, yet we had grown close in the little time we had. I didn’t want to just give Daria energy, I wanted to feed her spent will. The memories I gave her were meant to motivate and inspire. Time spent with those dear to me. Daria was one of those dear people now. I pushed emotions into the energy I gave her, strength, hope, and laughter. The finishing touch was the same memories I had gotten from Neve earlier. It was just the thing to kick Daria back into gear.
Tired, my head lowered until it rested on her shoulder. I felt her hand come up to pat the top of my head.
“Gotta be honest, Nick, as cute as you are, I was hoping to wake up in the arms of a certain woman.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “She’s busy kicking ass.”
“Figured as much,” Daria said as she stood, helping me up as well.
The Painter loomed behind Neve. Seth’s contortions had subsided and he lay splayed across the table, spittle at the corners of his mouth, eyes bloodshot but still lucid. Neve turned with her fist still clenched, facing down the monster.
She moved glacially slow, raising a single finger.
The Aberrant swayed. There was never a way to know what it would do next.
Neve’s face was like stone as she concentrated, reaching out, probing with her finger amidst the muck of the Aberrant’s features.
She found it and stabbed down with her fingernail.
For a split-second, all the abstract drawings and images disappeared.
A naked tower of flesh, with its eye pierced by Neve.
It bent backwards noiselessly, painting an arc across the ceiling, before collapsing into the water.
The waves from its fall splashed up against the far walls.
Then there was only one enemy left in the room. All eyes turned to Seth, who struggled to raise himself up, a vein pulsating on his forehead.
Chase laughed across the intercom. “Is that the extent of your will, Seth? Surely you can do more. You wouldn’t want your whole legacy to be soured by this disappointment?”
Seth’s face held an ugly expression as he stared down Neve. A bruise much larger than what a punch would make had appeared all across his face, quickly turning splotchy purple and blue colours.
Suddenly he moved quickly, a hand disappearing into a pocket and coming back out clutching something. Daria was at Neve’s side in a flash, knocking him back with a kick. He landed with a splash next to the Fisherman’s still body and began to thrash around in pain, screaming incoherently. When he finally stilled, I saw something quivering in the stump of his arm. A needle, the plunger already compressed.
He hadn’t been trying to lash out at Neve.
I tried to move and found my body too weak to even pull myself through the water.
Seth spat something bloody into the water. A small piece of pink flesh. He had bitten off the tip of his tongue. Then he laughed, long and ragged, as if he was trying to force out some deeply repressed emotion.
Blood dripped down his chin as he leveled his gaze at us. “It’s incredible. I keep finding out that I have more inside of me than I ever would have unearthed in a lifetime of normalcy. I understand it now, Chase. This is about me. It could only ever be about me.”
His hand drifted down to touch the arm of the Fisherman.
The moment he made contact, the arm began to twitch.
What? The Fisherman had been laying still for long enough I believed him to be dead. His skin looked pallid, even tinged with blue. Yet the arm spasmed, as if the limb was still alive without the rest of him.
Neve ended her power as she backed away from him. Daria grabbed the case from where Seth had dropped it on the desk.
Seth grinned maniacally. “Why would I need that weapon when I could create my own, within my own body? Apollo has been doing the work this whole time, crunching the data sets of Organ’s testing. Discovering the optimal strain of Dice for my genetic makeup. I’d just been too weak to pull the trigger. But the odds don’t matter anymore. I will survive. There’s no doubt.”
Blood sprayed as the Fisherman’s arm twisted at the shoulder, so tight it ripped flesh. There was a sickening sound of bones breaking and tendons snapping as it broke free.
“Look. The results are already in,” Seth said, reaching down to pick up the arm. He held it to his own side, just below the stump at his shoulder. It fused in an instant and he let it hang limply.
The grafted arm twitched, fingers curling. Then it raised up, spewing black smoke from its holes, filling the space around him.
I forced myself to move, the loss of extra sensation allowing me the numbness to push past my limits. All I could hear was Chase laughing on the radio as I trudged over to Daria and Neve. They scanned the darkness, tensed and ready.
The sound of water splashing against the walls of the room as something big moved. Then a smear of blackness, like a paintbrush of ink, tore across my sight. The attack glanced between me and Daria, knocking the briefcase from her hands. It sailed across the room before smacking into a wall.
Click.
The briefcase popped open.
In the darkness, I could barely see a small case of glass nestled within soft padding. Inside the glass was a sliver of pink flesh, only about a fingernail in width.
The dark arm of the Aberrant landed on the computer console, the metal crunching under its weight.
It was only the arm. The corpse of the Painter still lay submerged in the middle of the room.
But I could see a silhouette in the fog. The new owner of the limb stood, his different sized appendages waving around him like some sick approximation of a peacock.
“I’m glad to finally meet the real you, Seth Grance,” Chase said gleefully.