Chapter 70: The Worst Possible Time to Be Drunk (Patreon)

The nanobots are going to use something different to manage the pain this time. The goal is to keep you from laughing like a lunatic, the way you did during the first mutation.

The Operator started to feel dizzy. Everything around her lost its footing. “Thanks for protecting my dignity, Tera.” She fanned herself with one hand. “Wow. It’s getting hot in here.”

She pulled off her jacket and dropped it to the side. “Okay, Tera. I’m not laughing like a maniac, but I am extremely dizzy. No. Not dizzy. The entire room is spinning.”

Lifting a hand to look at it, she went still. “Tera...”

Her hand was red, the color spreading up her arm. She tugged her shirt up and looked down at a chest gone the same red, all of her skin turning red, not flushed, not pink under her tone, but as deep as her hair. “Tera, I need you to ask the nanobots what the hell is happening. Why am I turning red?”

She pulled in a long breath, her vision blurring. “This feels so off,” she muttered.

The nanobots’ answer is this. Like they told you, there’s no version of this that kills the pain without a cost. What they’re using avoids the laughing problem, but the side effect is the equivalent of being drunk.

“What?” She blinked several times. “Are they running different drugs on me now? Tera, this is not the time for me to be drunk.”

The pain would be unbearable, as we told you before. Just ride it out and stay still. Don’t move. Okay?

Then the bigger change started. Her muscles moved over and over, the way they pull tight in a cramp. This was different, though; every muscle rolling together, one wave traveling under the skin without stopping.

She watched it happen and forced herself to calm down. Easy. Breathe through it. You’ve been through worse.

“Tera, I don’t want to think about what’s happening to me. Just talk me through it, please. Tell me what my body’s doing.” She kept her eyes on the rolling under her skin. “It helps me not picture it.”

In scientific terms, Operator, your body runs on two main proteins for muscle contraction, actin and myosin. They generate force by moving against each other.

The Operator listened, fighting the spin.

The formula is trading your proteins for the Kanryx version. Same proteins, same job, just a stronger build. Your muscles stay the same size, but they’ll pull a lot harder.

“And all this I’m seeing?” the Operator asked. “The red? My muscles moving like that?”

It looks a lot worse than it is, but the formula's flawless. Your body won't let a defective mutation take hold.

“Great. Sounds fun.”

She tried to hold herself upright. A hand went to her head. “When does the drunk part wear off?” She shook her head. “You know what the worst part is, Tera? I don’t remember ever being drunk. But I know exactly what it feels like.” The room turned again. “And I know this one isn’t gentle. It’s strong.”

Then the rolling under her skin slowed, the muscles easing one wave at a time, each smaller than the last, until they settled flat and her body looked like her own again.

The first wisp of steam rose off her shoulder. More came with it, lifting from her arms, her chest, the back of her neck, pouring up out of every pore at once. Where her skin was bare it escaped clean, but her legs were still in her pants, and there the steam had nowhere to go, soaking the fabric through against her skin. It climbed thick around her, the same as the first mutation, until the office turned white and she lost sight of her own hands.

After a few seconds the steam thinned, pulling apart in slow drifts, the room coming back piece by piece, the desk, the window, the floor.

She looked down at herself, the red gone, her skin as white as before. She lifted a hand close to her face, still dizzy. “Tera. Report.”

Second mutation’s complete, and there’s no mess this time. You finally have the strength we’ve been chasing since we got here. Took long enough.

A male voice came through the speakers on the level, loud and clear in the office. “Who are you talking to?”

She heard it; the sound reaching her fine, but it didn’t turn into anything in her head.

“Who’s guiding you? You keep speaking to someone. There’s no one with you. Who is it?”

The Operator squinted up at the ceiling, swaying on her feet. The words were right there, landing in her ears and then coming apart before they meant a thing. The voice she knew, though.

“...s’the three-eyed guy,” she mumbled. “Tha’s the three-eyed guy talkin’. S’Eron.”

“Listen to me. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. Name it.” His voice changed, the demand gone out of it. “A world of your own to rule. It’s yours. Wealth. Materials to push your mutation further than you can imagine. I’ll treat you as the most precious jewel my people have ever had.”

“What is this guy even saying,” she mumbled, rubbing at one eye, the room tilting under her. “Can’t... ugh.”

“Please.” There was a crack in it, something desperate pushing through. “Don’t refuse my hand. I have never lowered myself to do this with anyone, Operator. Not once in all my centuries.” The calm broke; the words coming faster, harder, hungrier. “But you are worth it. You are worth all of it.”

She wasn’t listening, too busy watching the floor sway.

He’s offering you entire worlds, and you’re too drunk to find the floor. Beautiful timing.

“WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?” Eron’s scream tore through the speakers, all the begging gone. “TELL ME WHO IS GUIDING YOU.”

“Tera, I know that’s Eron talking to me, but I can’t make out any of it.” She dragged the words out slow. “I can barely understand you even. I hear what you’re saying, but I’ve got to fight for it.”

A sway, then she caught herself.

“This wasn’t the time for the nanobots to run experiments on me. I’m grateful, I am, but next time, depending on how bad things are, I might just have to take the pain.”

I’m sorry, Operator. It won’t happen again.

“It’s fine. This is all new for everyone.” She pressed a hand flat against the wall. “But I can’t control my body right now. I know for a fact that if I try to stand on my own, I’m going straight into something.”

That was when the sounds started. Not the noise of the creatures, not their howling or screams, but something flat and even, a rhythm of metal struck again and again. It took her a while to notice it, and longer to care.

“Tera... what is that?” The words tipped sideways out of her, slurred, slow.

I don’t know. But it isn’t the creatures. They haven’t kept a rhythm like that in a long time. It’s something else.

The sound kept on, once, then again, then again. The intercom crackled above her, his voice still carrying the same rage from before, sharper this time.

“You ignore me again?” The fury bled through every word. “I offer you everything. I humble myself the way I have never humbled myself for anyone.” The line went quiet for a moment. “Fine. Then we do this my way.”

“Oh... he’s mad,” the Operator murmured, talking as if she were letting someone in on a secret, blinking up at the ceiling. “He sounds really mad.”

A heavy crash followed, metal driven through something. Then the voice spoke to the entire sector.

“Third floor. Corner office. Move.”

“...tha’s where I am,” she mumbled.

That has to be his men. Sounds like they’re inside now and coming straight for you.

Then came a string of bursts, not bombs, more like something rupturing and letting out pressurized air. The Operator drifted to the window and looked out. Purple smoke was spreading across the whole of level thirteen, reaching every creature on it. The shrieking dropped, the screaming guttered out, the entire horde settling quietly.

She watched the smoke roll on. "What is that..." She kept staring at it, trying to make the shape of it hold still. "That's not good, is it." Her words still dragged at the edges.

That smoke is putting the creatures down. Clearing a path for his men. And we picked now to get you drunk. Perfect.

Down the level, under the dying howls, fresh sounds reached her. Voices. Men, somewhere below, calling to each other.

“...the east rows first, they’re still twitching...”

She caught pieces, then lost them. Her head wouldn’t hold a sound long enough to keep it, dropping half of every sentence before it meant anything. A creature roared somewhere in answer, then went quiet.

“...over here, two of them, watch the...”

That one slipped away from her too, gone before she could finish hearing it. Another roar, lower, then something she felt through the floor more than heard, something heavy going down.

“Tera...” She tilted toward the noise, eyes half-shut. “Tha’s... men. Real men. Down there, the... mm.”

Men, yes. Killing the things that the smoke left standing. Operator, listen to me.

“Mm.”

They’re coming for you, and you can’t stand up. I need you with me. Now.

“M’with you.” Her head rolled toward the sound. “S’just real far away soundin’. Everything’s far.”

Then listen. You can’t fight with your fists. Your bones are still human. Punch one of them full force and you'll break your own hand. Understand?

"But why can't I punch 'em." She frowned at her own hand, turning it over. "I finally got strong, an' you're tellin' me I can't even use it."

Operator, I'm trying to keep you alive. That's all I'm doing. Tera dropped the patience. You want the reason? Fast. Your muscles run on two proteins, actin and myosin. They pull against each other, that pull is your strength, and the formula swapped both for the Kanryx version. 10 times stronger than you were. But your bones are still human, so you don't move any faster, you just hit harder. Force, not speed. That's it. Now move.

“...ten times,” she echoed, swaying.

Your bones never changed. They’re still human. The muscle pulls harder than they can take now, so if you throw a real punch it’ll land, it’ll hurt them, but your hand breaks doing it. So swing something. Never your fists.

“Oh.” She dragged her wrist across her face. “...tha’ actually makes sense.”

It does. Now find a weapon. Anything that isn’t your hand.

“Metal stick.” Her mouth pulled into something like a smile. “Hit ‘em with the stick.”

And don’t jump. Don’t push off hard with your legs. You’ll snap something when you land. Stay on the ground.

“No jumpin’.” She nodded, then groaned as the room tipped. “Stick. No punchin’. No jumpin’. M’got it, Tera. M’got it.”

No, you don’t. But I’ll take it because we’re out of time.

A knock came at the door. Then another. Steady, spaced out, the tap of metal legs against the surface. Napoleon’s signal. Something was happening. The intercom screamed again.

“Move now. Something happened to her after the mutation; she can barely stand. You will not get a better moment than this. Go.”

Four cracks came from the corridor, one after another, both of Napoleon’s cannons firing at whatever was coming up the level. Even through the office walls the noise hit hard, and her ears rang with it, a long flat tone that buried every other sound for a second. She pressed a hand over one ear.

Through the doorway, Napoleon was saying something to her. The words reached her, but drunk as she was, none of them landed. It was just noise.

He says that bought you a moment, but it barely touched them. Eron’s men are close, Operator.

“... oh.” She blinked, slow. “Tell him... thank you.”

Her eyes filled again.

“Napoleon, I dunno what I’d do without you,” she slurred, dragging her wrist across her face. “You’re the only one... the only one who gets me. Everyone else jus’ talks an’ talks at me. You get me.”

Operator. The weapon. Now.

“Movin’. M’movin’, Tera.”

She shoved off the wall, her legs nearly folding under her, and stayed up, lurching toward the desk. Her hands dragged across it, knocking things to the floor, finding nothing solid enough. She turned, swaying, until the chair caught her attention.

Metal frame. Good enough.

Grabbing it by the back, she pulled. The frame came apart in her hands with a shriek of tearing steel, one long leg ripping loose with no effort at all.

The bar sat heavy in her fist, and she stared.

“...whoa.” A slow, crooked grin. “Did you see that, Tera? Did you see what I just did?”

I saw it. You’re strong now. That’s the entire point. Hold onto it and stay on your feet.

“M’strong now,” she repeated, swaying, looking at the metal like it was the best thing she’d ever seen. “S’heavy. But it feels like nothin’.”

"I can't even control my own body right now," she mumbled, leaning on the bar like a cane. "If I keep goin' like this, I'm gonna die in here." She pushed herself straight, swaying. "But I'm strong now. That's somethin'." She turned her face up toward the speakers. "You hear me, Eron? You one-eyed piece of shit. Go to hell."

She lurched at the door, set her feet, and pulled her leg back to kick it open.

Don’t hit anything straight with your body. I told you, your bones aren’t strong enough...

The warning came too late.

Her foot slammed into the door, and the whole thing tore off and sailed out into the corridor, hinges and all, the crash echoing down the level toward the men.

She blinked at the empty frame.

“...didn’t hurt.” She looked down at her own leg, delighted. “Tera, it didn’t even hurt.”

You got lucky. And that crash just told them you’re awake and moving. Stop kicking things.

She wobbled out through the broken frame and found Napoleon in the corridor. “Napoleon. M’strong now,” she slurred, swaying over him. “So I’m your shield, okay? They hit me. You attack. They can’t hurt me, s’fine, m’like metal now.”

Napoleon started to answer, but she talked over him.

"But don't you let them hurt you." Her eyes filled, but she held it together. "I mean it. I'm not doin' this without you. I can't, Napoleon. So you stay safe, you hear me?"

He went still, then nudged her boot with one leg. She hardly felt it. He spoke again; the words coming faster now, and drunk as she was, the change in him got through.

He says they’re here. The men. They made it up faster than I thought.

“Already?” She tried to turn toward the corridor, swinging the bar up to ready it.

The turn was too fast. The floor went out from under her; the room dragging hard to one side, and her hip caught the railing. She went over it before she understood she was falling.

Three floors below, the heap of sleeping creatures came up under her. She hit them and bounced, sprawled across a pile of warm, twitching bodies, the metal bar somehow still in her hand.

"Shit," she muttered, sprawled there a moment. "...didn't hurt either."