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"I mean, how am I supposed to know you're not just playing me as a fool and making me drink poison?" asked Phantasm, paranoia creeping into the corners of his psyche.

Sighing, Phantasm emptied the contents of the vial into his mouth. Swallowing the bitter-tasting fluid, he waited to see what would happen next.

<<< Previously

The night fell across her face gently as Silent took to the skies. Her wings, mismatched feathered and misty bones, appeared to be supporting her weight. As long as their were shadows in the sky, flight would be possible. Strangely, such flight was already second nature. It wasn't like the Super could turn sharply or make death dives yet but calm, leisurely flights were simply enough.

As the black-clad figure neared the so-called "Darkside", her extended "shadow sight*" felt activity on the roof tops. Silent glanced in the general direction of this feeling and barely made out two figures in the distance. Since the one did not seem to be actually on the roof at times and the other of unusual size, Silent kept her distance to avoid being noticed. She'd had enough of strange, unknown, possibly Supers for one 24 hour period. Though considering she was going to the Darkside, an area where "Super sightings" were not exactly uncommon, she might just get exactly what she had just avoided. Oh well, when life gives you lemons, make orange juice, or something.


*Shadow sight - a term to possibly be used from now on to describe when Silent/Alma "feels" something, normally movement or an object, through shadows. Most likely connected her being able to solidify the darkness around her. Its range is extended at night due to shadows being more common, though it gets weaker and weaker the farther it goes. Plus, it barely works at all in any source of bright light (ex: the sun, LEDs, etc.). In this case, the feeling Silent got was not unlike getting the feeling something is watching you, only more accurate.

"Well, DNA, in a sense," explained Bloodbeast hesitantly. "It's carried through a synthesized virus. The virus is tricked into... well, 'thinking' isn't the best word, but it thinks it's reproducing. Instead, it's injecting the desired DNA into the cells, which transforms the host. The goal is to get the body's immune system to recognize the new DNA as natural, but... I can't seem to get the viruses to act quickly enough, and the body rejects it. It seems, though, that the gastrointestinal tract's defenses don't take the serum well... though, that doesn't mean it won't take effect."

He bent down lower, watching the boy with morbid curiosity. If he kept getting worse, he may need to go to the hospital, but... he wanted his results first.

Phantasm fell to the ground in agonizing pain, his arms feeling like they were ripping apart. In actuality, they seemed that they were: his arms were expanding and flattening. Phantasm's nose started to elongate exponentially and his legs started to shrink. His screams turned into caws, and his irises turned yellow instead of their normal green color. Black feathers began to poke their way through the pores of his skin. His arms had turned into wings by now, and before long the transformation was complete; he had turned into a large raven.

<<

The Mastermind nodded. “It can be arranged.” He continued driving. “There is no threat in this arrangement to your current position. And you are not a goon. I do not extend my trust to people outside of my immediate circle. In our unique situation, I am breaking that policy. Rest assured that you are not some lowly minion of mine. I would not meddle with a man of your strength.”

In regards to Allen’s employer, the Mastermind could tell without Allen’s confirmation that the identity of this man and details of Allen’s work were not pieces of information that Allen boasted about. However, it was a topic Mastermind intended to touch upon soon.

Before that, though, the Mastermind had a more pressing discussion planned, which would entail following one question. He turned to Allen and declared; “Now in order to bring you to your roommate, you will have to tell me where to drive."

The transformation was... painful, as expected. Turning back to his human form was always something of a trial for him, but he bore it. It was only one aspect of his suffering for his job. He had prepared some clothing ahead of time, but he hadn't counted on being followed. He'd have to go back and recover it later. That posed a substantial complication. Nevertheless, he had to do what he could with the time he had now. Returning to the bank now would be a futile effort. For now... he needed clothing. He grabbed a tarp and fashioned a sort of toga from it; he'd have to find more suitable clothing elsewhere, but for now this would suffice. He began to head back to his apartment, but on the way, he spotted a familiar-looking vehicle. Had he seen it before? It... it looked similar to the one in which his blackmailer traveled. He couldn't be certain, as he never truly had an eye for makes and models. However, as he got closer to his destination, he looked back. It was still there. The normally rational scientist grew paranoid, sure now of the identity of the man in the vehicle. Was it really him? What could he want? He doesn't usually collect until later in the month. Could he be impatient? Roland clutched the golden scarab tightly and quickened his pace. He had to get home, but with any luck, he could leave again before the collector came.

DUSTIN BUNNELL

What was an old man to do? Mr. Dustin Bunnell needed a regular check in order to pay for his apartment or else he'd have to go to a retirement home. He was 52 after all. He had expected Snottsborn to fire him sooner, but surprisingly Dustin, or "Dusty" as the men at Snottsborn Industries liked to call him, had stayed longer than expected. Dusty knew it was the end when he gave Snottsborn his two weeks notice. He knew Snottsborn would fire him on the spot so Snottsborn didn't have to keep paying Dusty. This just was not fair. Snottsborn was a terror and Dusty felt horrible leaving his janitorial staff with no leader.

Of course there was Drew Dubberberry, but he was so young. He seemed to be the hero the janitorial staff needed though. What would Dustin's wife, Betty, say if she was still alive. Betty had been his motivation throughout all of his struggles. She would be so ashamed of him. Dustin turned to look at the looming building of Snottsborn Industries in the distance. He took in a deep breath and exhaled with a sigh. On to bigger and better things! He was trying to look at it in a brighter way. Snottsborn gave Dustin close to nothing and the pay cut Dustin received made the job worse than ever. He'd never have to talk to that miserable, low-life that called himself Eugene Snottsborn ever again. Though Dustin felt like he was abandoning Drew Dubberberry. Drew had become a sort of protege for Dustin. Dustin loved Dubberberry's company. Dustin gave one last look at Snottsborn Industries and then started walking across the street.

HONK! HONK, HONK!

Dustin snapped his head the other way and saw a giant truck heading straight for him. He didn't have time to jump out of the way! The truck was too close, but the driver nonetheless tried to avoid hitting Dustin. The truck veered sharply to the left, but on the turn, the back of the truck hit Dustin and sent him sprawling to the ground. He hit the pavement hard and felt his arm snap. Pain went down his entire arm as he screamed out in pain. Through his blurred vision he saw the truck spin around about five times and then topple over, sending its cargo out of the back. Dustin watched, but couldn't move, as a giant bag fell out of the truck and ripped. Sand started pouring out of the bag and onto Dustin and right when the sand made contact, Dustin felt like his whole body was being eaten on the inside by a burning fire.

"AAAAHHHHH!" Dustin finally let out a scream. He was going into shock. This sand... whatever it was... it was going to kill him. The last thing Dustin saw before he lost consciousness was the name: SNOTTSBORN INDUSTRIES HEAVY LOAD, on the side of the truck.