Becca

  My name is Rebecca Polluck and I am filled with hate.

  I hate people who cannot finish their dinner plate. I hate people who think showing off expensive baubles makes them a better person. I hate people who think they’re better than me. There is not a bone in me that doesn’t seethe with anger at the littlest, most benign act that I see. Every action revives a fury within me, or jealousy, or anger at myself.

  Also, I spent my 22nd birthday being digested by a mimic. Somehow, this has improved my overall situation.

  A week had passed since my rescue, and I could still feel the monster that took my arms, legs, and the life I had clinging to me. It was a wet feeling, pressing in from every direction as if someone dunked a wet blanket in sand and was now trying to suffocate me with it. There was little I hated more than the feeling of wet fabric, except perhaps my father. The day that I learned he died when alien mimics broke into our home was a good day. And that, more than my gelatinous body, makes me a monster.

  It was odd, hearing his name on the death register. It should’ve meant something to me, caused some emotional reaction beyond an “ah, I see”. I had teeth I cared more about losing than him. Even our home, that messy repository of half-finished soda cans, moldy takeout boxes, and unidentifiable stains beneath piles of unanswered letters, caused a twinge in my heart as a bulldozer squashed it down. But not him. All I felt was relief.

  Maybe it was a fact of my new biology. I was a slime now. And slimes, apparently, didn’t feel much unless they wanted to.

  A bubble of mixed feelings pearled around my lower half — the one I was ‘sitting’ on, for lack of a better term. I watched them move up, through the vaguely squashed-egg-shaped form of my body, and then merge with the atmosphere outside of me.

  Ew.

  Sam, the only person left who even recognized me, perked up. “Hey, I felt that. That smelled like… a tart energy drink mixed with stale coffee and mushy peas. I think that was… anger and disgust?”

  Apparently my emotions had a smell assigned to each one. What joy.

  Ew.

  We were in an abandoned public park, surrounded by deciduous trees, waist-high shrubbery, and bugs. Lots of tiny bugs that got stuck on me and absorbed without me even noticing. We were here on a training excursion, something about ripples in the dimensional membrane causing mini conversion events in the wake of the big one a few weeks past. Convergence, not conversion. The word implied two separate objects getting closer, perhaps even intersecting.

  Regardless, the dome rising around us was so small Samantha could hit the ceiling by jumping, though in all fairness, she could jump much higher than one would expect. We were supposed to clear it, or charge its magic or whatever, maybe do everything all at once, as Custodians deigned to do.

  No idea what a Custodian is. No way to ask that question either.

  My biggest problem was as simple as it was insurmountable: I didn’t have lips with which to talk. Every time the endlessly self-improving and expanding superintelligence Sam casually referred to as ‘the system’ tried to teleport its cybernetic implants into where it thought my head was, I… sort of ate it. On instinct.

  Fuck me, I suppose.

  At least eating it gave me an idea of its general shape. The tiny, fingernail-sized iridescent chip was an infinitely complex and condensed thing I would never in my wildest dreams think of copying. Too complex, too much magic, too small, my mimic-instincts claimed. It also looked like a tiny heart. Sam would probably call this thing adorable.

  Alas, communication was difficult. People needed to extrapolate what I wanted to say by smelling my emotions as they wafted off of me. Luckily, the only people who could actually smell anything beyond a vaguely soft drink-like tang were Sam, and that fuzzy friend she was repressing a crush on.

  Everyone could tell. No one cared to do anything about it. It was painful to watch; we met under similar circumstances. Not that I was interested in rekindling that part of our relationship. She looked happier now than in our four collective years of high school. And besides…

  They’re incredibly cute together. Good for them. All the luck, is what a good person would wish at this point.

  I’m… not a good person. Even with all the kindness she’s showed me, I want more of her attention. More time, more space; to be, what, addressed, acknowledged?

  Either way, I don’t deserve to be loved.

  And yet, here I was, having a less-than-terrible time with the one person out of my old life that I didn’t want to leave behind. Life, as it was, wasn’t done with me yet.

  She cocked her head, ever perceptive, and ever dense. “Are you okay, Becca? Should we continue or…”

  I wobbled once. God, I couldn’t tell what was more stupid, that this was my most efficient means of communication, or that Sam seemed to be happy to spend time with me. Me. Her tormentor. Her bully. I was complicit in standing by, day after day. That made me as bad as Elise and Tanya.

  Maybe this was my punishment. Or a chance to atone.

  “Alrighty then. Ooh, I see another mimic. This one’s coming high.” She twitched, moved ten times faster than I could dream of, and scooped something up with the end of a mundane golf club. “Four!”

  A disruption in my membrane. Immediately, I was aware of the pink bastard rummaging around in my guts-slash-legs-slash head. It all felt the same when you were a shapeless blob. Its legs turned to claws, then a toothed saw, then jagged tendrils as it tried to cut me to ribbons—

  You’re a damn slime. Don’t be an idiot. Just kill the thing.

  A single flex, and my gelatinous body twisted as a single knot of muscle, crushing the thing instantly. It started leaking fluids into my body and I just… ew.

  Ew ew ew—

  [Soulcoins: 52->54]

  [Congratulations! You have reached level 5]

  [+3 Body, +2 Soul, +1 Free Stat point, + 1 ERROR]

  [ERROR Essence II affixed]

  [You have gained: Compressed Mimicry]

  [Compressed Mimicry] - Passive

  You can shapeshift into objects that have less body mass or volume than you do. Natural pressure prevents you from remaining in this form for extended periods of time. Soul increases maximum size difference, Body increases the time you can hold your form.

  [Error 401: Communication unauthorized. ECC and System-interface unable to fully interface with user. Outbound messages disabled. Please notify your nearest Society representative and schedule a meeting with a licensed professional animutologist.]

  —ewewewew.

  I am seriously not a human. Not whatever a Custodian is either. I’m something else altogether. A shapeshifting slug with anger issues.

  Getting paid for eating mimics does make me feel a little bit better at least.

  The boiling anger inside me returned to a simmer. As the creature dissolved in my acid, every piece of its body was inspected, curated, and cataloged in what I dubbed ‘the mimic part’ of my brain. On an instinctual level, I knew what these pink bastards were made of, how they worked, et cetera. Consuming new shapes, morphing parts of me into them was a core desire, one of the few reliable sources of comfort I had left without skin to feel, a brain full of hormones, or a heart to beat in tune with a fellow human being. If someone asked me how I changed into whatever I ate, I wouldn’t be able to tell them. It was a reflex, something I had no control over.

  Right now, I was feeling pretty done for the day.

  I turned into a cardboard box, first shifting the surface of my body, then hollowing out my internals until whatever matter made up the person formerly known as Rebecca Polluck was smeared across the insides like peanut butter on bread. My instincts told me that I could use the space to make hidden weapons, knives, spears, even grasping tendrils. I didn’t. Removing every connection my alien senses had to the outside was all I wanted to accomplish. Briefly, I wondered if I should just stay like this. Being a box was kinda comfortable, like teetering on the edge of a long sleep…

  Shuffling. Footsteps. Someone came close.

  “I think we can call it a day for you, no?” Sam asked.

  Wobble.

  “It’s barely noon. Then again, I wouldn’t want to overtax you. Moving around seems to be pretty tiring for you.”

  Wobble.

  “Would you like a ride in my backpack again?”

  Wobble wobble wobble wobble.

  “Great!” The air shifted. I felt four arms envelop me in a heavy yet gentle hug. “You’re awesome Becca. Just hold out a while longer while Addy and I try to figure out the whole communication problem. Then you’ll be part of the team, and you can share all the cool things you’ve learned about your new body! It will be awesome because I know you’re awesome and smart and everything will be so good that we’ll make a Custodian team and call it ‘team awesome-sauce’.”

  Hah. Awesome. Nobody would have spared a look at me and said “wow, a slug person. How awesome!”. No one except Sam.

  At least you have enough confidence for the two of us, boo.

  Was it confidence, or was it nervous bluster? Sam was proficient in both. Some days she was as expressive as sunshine. But some days, even I failed to read her moods. She was so different compared to the last time we met, so changed. Her skin was gray like dark ash. She had four arms and four — no, six separate eyes: Two pairs on the front of her face, two black beads at the back of her neck.

  And, the biggest change of all, she was happy.

  Maybe she just looks happy. She’s a frighteningly good actor when she tries. If she’s hiding her pain, I’ll find whoever’s the reason for it and I’ll…

  — wooh. Calm down. Deep breaths… deep wobbles.

  Sometimes, she makes me wonder: what is going on inside that head?

  +++

  Sam

  Baby Spider, doo doo do-do, baby spider doo doo do-do~.

  I’m a baby spider transforming mimics into goo,

  I’m gonna save everyone! And just between me and you:

  I’m a spider.

  Ba-ba-ba-BAAAAAH!

  [Trout Lake Containment Barrier (minor)]

  Danger rating: Level 15

  [Mimics remaining: 17]

  My name is Samantha Rubens. I am 21. I am amazing in a way no one else is, because as far as I can tell, no one else is the first ever magical girl spider person… thing.

  Gotta workshop that name a bit. Then again, the System gave me a good one already. Trigger Happy Arachnid. Hehe, I have a magical girl name. I’m a spider. But also, a magical girl with spells and… stuff.

  Most of that stuff is guns though. Probably not the best for my family friendly image. But it’s magic, I’m magic, and I am SO glad my callsign didn’t turn out to be Friendly Fire.

  The thought was filled with so much giddy joy that it charged both of my joy spells, and propelled me forward with a pounce. I landed next to a bouquet of bright, red flowers fanning out in sharp leaves. A poinsettia, Euphorbia pulcherrima. Very pretty.

  “You’re not a native plant.”

  The non-native plant shivered. I turned it into a pile of ash with a full-auto burst of my Prickler, a laser submachine gun. In the same turn the shrubbery around me turned alive. There were at least a dozen mimics, but after stretching One Moment to pass like ten, I had all their positions and angles catalogued. Omnidirectional eyesight for the win!

  “Ah! An am-bush.” I ducked. “I get it!”

  A loop of mimic tentacle whipped over my head, quickly cut off by rapid fire laser beams. “E for effort, B- for execution. But creativity? That’s a failing grade, and failure means death!”

  Lasers cracked, shotguns boomed. I whirled and whirled and whirled, drunk on the pleasure of finally being someone I could be proud of, that my family could be proud of.

  A call appeared on my system interface, above my left lower eye. One look at it and I took it, no matter that I was currently embroiled in a frantic skirmish.

  “Hi mom! How you doing? Me, I’m fine. Bit busy. Still working — working out, I mean. Gotta get those gains to scale those stats off of. Did the house survive? What about Dad’s garden? Any casualties among the perennials?”

  Mom’s face appeared in a small shaky window. “Oh what? No, no, we have had a busy few days cleaning up the kitchen, and helping around the neighborhood. All of this… fairy graffiti?” She showed me a wall, where a stickfigure with wings was inflicting… unspeakable terrors on a number of other stick figures. “It’s really hard to scrub off without that magical soap of yours.”

  “You mean the TidyBlank Instacleaner?” One below, one behind, one above. Rolling forward should do it, then three shots. Boom, ba-boom! “There's been a bit of a shortage worldwide actually, but I can send you some when I'm done here. Just give me… a… minute.”

  “Oh, is this a bad time? I’ll call you back.”

  “Oh, nono, it’s fine. This is just the riff-raff of a teensy little convergence event I was taking Becca to for some easy levels.”

  Something screech-warbled in the part of the lake that was still inside the barrier dome. An island — what I thought was an island — had disappeared, a straight disturbance in the water trailing right towards… me.

  “Uh, you know what? I’ll call you back, Mom.”

  The 1.5 ton huntsman launched itself out of the water like a toy torpedo, four limbs that had been draped back like a squid’s tentacles now folding forward in a four-pronged spear strike.

  It hit my body double. One of four illusory copies of me made a convincing yet silent impression of a doomed last-ditch effort to take it down in melee before glitching out and disappearing.

  The huntsman tilted its head. It stood up straight as I aimed a barrel of enchanted steel at its side.

  “Sorry,” I said, “but I summoned my bazooka beforehand. Just in case, y’know.”

  The shockwave of the explosion traveled across the lake, bouncing back twice from the barrier walls before it had spent its strength. I whirled my magical girl bazooka (it looks like a normal bazooka, but covered in cute spider stickers) in a fancy way, taking in the rain of coins that deposited itself in my digital purse.

  [Congratulations! You have reached level 33]

  [+4 Body, +2 Sense, +2 Mind, + 4 Soul, + 1 Free Stat Point]

  Hooray, a level! Cleaning up riff-raff all week finally paid off. I almost thought I was never going to make it to the next one.

  An unusual pressure between my upper and lower pair of arms pinched me in the side.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  [Body exceeds 150. [More Arms] adding extra limbs.]

  Oh crap.

  I buckled as the pressure turned to pain. Hot white tension pressed against my skin before exploding out with a wet shlorp! The new, smooth arm poking out of my left side was so sensitive that the grass felt like a field of knives as I pressed the newly minted hand down onto it.

  Shlorp!

  A right hand joined the left one. I was sweating heavily, shivers running up and down as I heaved. Slowly, the sensory overload abated.

  “T-that’s all of them, right?” I said and immediately felt a stabbing sensation in my left foot. A mimic was gnawing on it, spiky knife-legs piercing my heavy boot.

  [Mimics remaining: 1]

  I shot the dang thing, but the damage was done. I whinced as I pulled the thing from my boot, shucked it off, and began bandaging it.

  “Ow.”

  Man, getting stabbed sucked. Maybe if I had a real transformation, like a real magical girl, I could shrug off swords and bombs with the power of love, friendship, and a supporting cast of quirky characters. Disregarding that, only one of those was an emotion that actually fueled my spells. Magic was funky like that. Then again, what did I know about magic? Maybe there was magic out there that only worked if you sacrificed one of your closest friends in return.

  [Mimics remaining: 0]

  Regardless, time for the walk of pain.

  “Ow. Ow. Ow.” God, I hate mimics. Please, let me deal with something else, anything else next time.

  [Barrier fully cleansed. Congratulations, Custodian, on a job well done.]

  [Additional reward: 50 Soulcoins]

  +++

  I returned to our home base, hobbling on one foot.

  The decision had been made that while Creektin rebuilt itself, Addy and I were not to weigh in on the reconstruction effort. ‘Wasted time’ Medusahead called it before leaving with her crew for greener pastures. She took the unconscious elder vampire I still had staked in my kitchen with her, marked as a delivery for The Society. Apparently, he was a criminal of sorts, buried under my house two hundred years ago by one of the many groups that now made up this not-so-secret-anymore society of strange things. Whether he was a threat to modern society without deathworms controlling his body I couldn’t say. And when asked, I was told to enjoy my vacation.

  Addy and I were staying behind in the area around Creektin, for one because this was my home, for two because there were smaller convergence domes that would cause some issues even without something as bad as an ur-mimic hiding inside one, and finally because we were just dead tired.

  In a stroke of luck, we happened upon a huge RV, generously donated to the saviors of Creektin, The Great Lakes, etc etc. It stunk of bribery, and of Mayor Mendoza’s doing, except for one problem: This was not one of those normal white-lacquered things enthusiastic campers used to cross the US in one huge roadtrip. It was an entire designer bus.

  The bus had two toilets, a shower, several beds, a tv, a satellite dish, a minifridge, an actual fridge plus freezer, a jacuzzi on the roof, an entire built-in kitchen…

  … swervy chairs from some vaguely asian-sounding designer brand, a wine cooler, electrical floor heating, an air conditioner — no, two air conditioners…

  … and an air fryer.

  It was impossible not to acknowledge the luxury from afar; after stepping inside, it practically beat you across the face with one single fact: This was a vehicle millionaires bought for fun. And you’d need to be a millionaire to afford this. I checked the company’s catalog. Some versions of this RV could transport up to two cars on top of all the luxury. Y’know, in case you were afraid that your Bugatti was getting lonely in your garage at home.

  Our mysterious benefactor never stepped forth, and the mayor definitely couldn’t afford this level of bribery no matter how corrupt he was. I was inclined to pull some strings — heh, strings — but when I looked at the comfy leather couch, and minifridge filled with freshly cooled sodas I just… hmmm.

  I guess I really am bribeable.

  My spidery instincts were loving every part of this place too. A movable, tight and comfortable nest. The perfect habitat for a magical girl spider vampire… thing.

  Spider instincts. None of my essences give me spider instincts. [Vampirism I] is the only thing increasing my bloodline abilities, which apparently includes liking dark, cramped spaces.

  Thinking of complete darkness with nothing inside caused an altogether different kind of tightness to settle over my heart. Claustrophobia. The memory of the mimic suffocating me from all sides, piloting my body… it was still there, waiting to pounce. I was probably never going to let it go and—

  “Ack!” I jumped at a sudden plonk sound.

  Becca had oozed from my backpack. The corner next to the swervy chair was her favorite. She half rolled, half oozed over there and then deflated in what I had come to understand as a sort of sleep-slash-rest mode. Her skin turned non-translucent, shifting into the color and texture material she’d consumed so far at random. Heh. Sleep transformation.

  As far as I understood, she couldn’t actually sleep like we did, the lucky girl. A loud noise or sudden movement was all it took for her to stop shifting. I watched her for a while until my heart calmed down.

  Addy might come by later. I’d feel better sleeping in the same room as her—

  There was a knock on the front door. I hadn’t even showered yet.

  In front of the door was an aged man. Flowers were artfully woven into his beard. One eye was green, the other missing entirely, a dark cave in its place.

  “I have come bearing ill tidings. The fate of the world is at stake! Reveal to me the location of the one you call ‘Addy’.

  “No.” I slammed the door in his face. “And stop bothering her or I’ll call the cops for harassment.”

  His voice was not muffled through the wall in the slightest. “It is a free country. No laws prevent a wizard from going where he must.”

  But there were laws preventing him from entering a home uninvited. Apparently it was considered rude in the extreme in wizard society, and also The Society-society as a whole.

  I ignored the wizard: he’d go away soon enough. Grabbing an energy drink, I plonked my tired butt down on the couch before scrolling through the system shop. Not to buy anything. My list of things I could afford and things I needed to get were both already way too long. I had one big purchase planned, but for that I had to check my wallet.

  [Soulcoins: 1904]

  Yep, that was a crapton of money. Most of that I gained from the Creektin convergence dome. And a good portion was earmarked for a purchase I knew I needed to make.

  “System. One regeneration potion please.”

  [Soulcoins: 1904->704]

  [Delivery time: 3min 04sec]

  I sucked in a deep breath. “Oh man, spending that much shouldn’t be this easy.”

  There goes most of my money. Luckily, it wasn’t the only reward I was left with after Creektin. I had a bunch of Ivory for upgrading weapons and stuff, an open essence slot, an essence upgrade point (whatever that was), and extra lives.

  So many extra lives.

  [Extra lives: 8]

  They stemmed from all the various quests involving Becca. I don’t think the system expected me to succeed at any one of them, let alone all at once, somehow. I got a notification that Addy and I were on vacation for that. Ever since, I had the feeling that I was beeing… watched. Observed. Treated like an interesting bug in a jar.

  Was it out of curiosity? Out of fear? Did the system hate me? Or was this the way it showed affection?

  It was unnerving. I wasn’t that important. Or weird. Or interesting.

  Maybe it’s just observing me as an extension to observing Addy. God knows its sapient subroutines were concerned about her.

  As if that wasn’t enough, I could die eight times more than the average person, plus one for the current life. Nine deaths. If getting extra limbs and whatnot didn’t make me feel a little detached from humanity, this drove the point home.

  Eh. Whatever.

  I looked up at my extra extra pair of arms. With legs and arms counted together, I had enough to call myself a bona fide arachnid now. But I could already feel the unrest inside bursting to get out. Sixty-ish points in Mind were not enough to keep these babies under control.

  “Arms & Arms proficiency.”

  Liquid potential suffused my arms, snaking up from inside and encasing them in a comfortable glow of entwined yellow tattoos. The whole spell only lasted about a minute. However, the extra arms proficiency made me feel good as heck.

  [Spell charged: 37%]

  [Spell charged: 62%]

  [Spell fully charged]

  I could run it indefinitely now, given that I was feeling joy and was willing to say the spell’s name every minute or so.

  “Addy did say it was a lightweight spell.” I stretched with a satisfied groan. “Now let's see. System, send the regeneration potion to the following people in turn via teleport: Ted, Mom, then back to me”

  Ted was paralyzed from the waist down since the Mall nightmare. Mom had an incurable disease slowly blinding her, a weak heart that necessitated transplants every couple years, and was lactose intolerant. Lab-grown organs made from the recipient's own cells were juuust out of reach for us, economically speaking. The procedures that did exist were rare, expensive, and thereby reserved for the ultra rich. And more importantly, healthcare didn’t cover them.

  This was a more permanent solution. With any luck, I’d have half a bottle left over to use as I saw fit. As it was, the price was a harsh reminder that building up was magnitudes more difficult than breaking down. Lives, bodies, reputations, trust, it all applied much the same way.

  I sighed and leaned further back on the couch. At the flick of a thought, it started vibrating, because of course it had a massage function. Slowly, the exhaustion of the day bled away into the background hum and the rhythmic oscillations kneading my tired body.

  The caravan door slammed open with a wham.

  “Gah!” I fell off the sofa, glaring up at the new person who’d just entered quite abruptly. “Addy, what did we agree on about doors and the slamming thereof?”

  “Sorry.” She trudged around in her gunked up boots covered in black mimic blood, kicking one out the door, then the other. The moment her toes met the soft Persian carpet, she stopped, standing there as if paralyzed. The exhaustion in her body was, dare I say, worse than when we first met. Which was saying something, considering we met in a car crash.

  “Addy. A word.”

  She blinked, slowly, deliberately. “Just one. ‘M tired.”

  “Yes, I wonder why that is. It’s been a full two days! Forty-eight hours, with barely a word from you. Where have you been? What happened?”

  “Found some smaller convergence domes. Found some more. Got distracted.” She didn’t even yawn as she staggered over to the fridge and pulled the most caffeine-rich drink out of it. “Got punted across the street by three Hunstmen. Killed ‘em. For the coins.”

  “Weren’t you the one who told me ‘just dodge’?”

  “Yeah, well, we can’t all be a walking panopticon.” Addy gestured at my extra eyes. She snorted as they blinked in turn, before toppling over onto the nearest flat surface with a groan. “Ooow.”

  “Uh, Addy, you got something there.” I pulled a forearm-long quill from her back. Her breath hitched before she moaned in satisfaction.

  “That felt good. Get the other ones while you’re at it. They just get stuck harder the more I heal myself.”

  “Rrright.” Can’t tell if masochist or if pain-removal potion. “I’ll start with the bigger ones then.”

  It took some time I’d have rather spent asleep. By the end, we were out of paper towels and I was down two whole bottles of TidyBlank. But Addy sighed in relief, and that was enough for me.

  “I’ll be fine,” she incanted and the wounds closed on their own. I watched her lie there, dead to the world.

  “Got your arm back, I see.”

  “Regeneration potion.”

  “And you couldn’t just… use your healing spell?” I plucked a grape from a fruit bowl and popped it into my mouth. “How does that spell even work?”

  “I have a health pool,” she grumbled. “Or a wound pool. It’s empty, normally, until I fill it with wounds banished from my body. It’s pretty cluttered right now. Gotta heal them off, slowly but surely. And I can’t banish what I can’t heal. No limb-regrowth for me until I get my next essence, or another two- to three-hundred Body.”

  “U-huh.” Another grape. Addy should eat more fruits. “You know, I bet the bed is a lot more comfortable than a countertop. Unless this is some weretanuki preference I’m not aware of.”

  She mumbled something unintelligible into the side of the smoothie maker.

  “What was that?”

  “I said: I bet I got more Soulcoins than you.”

  I blinked at her. Is that why you decided to spend our well-earned downtime rampaging through the countryside for days on end? I made a tiny bet, as a joke, and you used that as an excuse to run yourself ragged? That’s it?

  “Oh?” I asked, feigning nonchalance. “How many?”

  “Two hundred fifty.”

  “Dangit!” I only managed about ninety. “Well, I guess you win the bet. As an honorable magical girl—”

  “— Custodian —”

  “— I hereby grant you, Addy of Adelaidsson, the right to ask me for one thing you desire.”

  “Anything I desire?” She perked up, which is to say she rolled her head to the right so she could look me in the eyes. Her gaze roamed everywhere — across the room, the ceiling, the gnome peeking out of my backpack — before staying glued on my face. A pink tongue darted out to lick her dry lips. “Then I want a… massage.”

  “Again?” I groaned. “Addy, this is the fifth time you’ve asked for a massage in seven days.”

  “Because I earned it.” Can’t deny that. “It’s part of your humbling training. One must not grow arrogant in the wake of completing a big quest. You need proficiency to back up that arrogance. So learn to use those arms.”

  “I have proficiency!” For a minute at a time, assuming I was willing to chant my spell over and over.

  “Then you shouldn’t be happy with just proficiency. Strive for excellence.” Her grin was smug. “You have two choices: Surpass me, or give me a massage.”

  I paused, taking in her toned features as she chucked her baggy shirt onto the wine cooler. She hesitated, then took off her bra before half jumping, half falling onto the bed.

  Addy gave me a mischievous side eye. “Or is that too much for you? Bet you can’t do it. Bet aaall those massage books you’ve been reading were for nothing.”

  “Ngh!” Them were fighting words.

  She’s right. I can’t just be fine. I need to be amazing.

  “Hope you’re ready, because today I have a special surprise.” I cracked six hands worth of knuckles.

  “Pfff. You said that last time. And the time before. You’re a novice Custodian and a passable masseuse at best. Having a bit of Mind helps with retaining knowledge and creating abstract models of the real world, but it can never be a substitute for real practice.”

  “Arms & Arms proficiency.”

  “Wait why do you have six aaa—”

  Her words were lost in a gasp as my — one, two, three — six hands assaulted every knot and knurl in her back with knuckles and know-how I cribbed from a how-to-massage video just hours before. It was made by a thai-looking guy. That's how you know it’s good.

  My scraps of medical knowledge helped as well. Knowing where which muscle group was located was one thing, but combining that with a well-structured explanation of why certain muscles felt good being pulled and others pushed made for a crude, but effective approach to kneading the strain out of Addy’s body. Every person was unique, but all humans shared a similar body plan. And that was just talking about the muscles. There were lymph nodes that ought be squeezed, and knots of nerves that deserved a good kneading.

  The result: Addy turned from a rock under my fingers to a tough dough that sometimes squeaked, sometimes moaned, and mostly sighed. My goal was to continue until she was as soft and pliable as putty. Darkness was approaching fast outside, highlighting the various mood lighting of the RV that automatically changed colors depending on the mood it sensed in the room via audio cues.

  The pink, sometimes red light was a bit awkward, but I paid it no mind.

  “So,” I began, once her back was adequately loosened up for me to really get in there, “The Society has kind of left us alone for a while now. Gotta say, I expected a bit more fanfare after we managed the impossible.”

  Addy hummed a satisfied tune. “We’ll get a summons when we’re needed. Academy’ll want to know where I’ve been at the very least. Until then, assume that this is exactly where we should be.”

  “I’m worried about Becca.” An eye drifted to the box in the corner. Currently, she was half covered in the spiky husk of a chestnut, and half colored like tinted glass. “Not being able to talk must be terrifying.”

  “And turning into a blob.”

  “That too. Maybe. See, that’s the problem, I can’t tell if she is hanging on by a thread, or just straight up vibing.”

  “It’ll resolve itself,” she said, tensing as one of my hands brushed close to her armpit. “Somewhere, some lucky tinker has gotten a system quest with a hefty reward to fix that. Let them cook, and in the meantime, relax.”

  “Says you.” I scoffed.

  “This is me relaxing,” Addy said and yep. I could believe it. Darn workaholic.

  “Which brings me to my second fear. I can’t help but worry whether all this silence is peace, or the calm before yet another storm. I’m following the news — can’t help it really when there are aliens on the Eiffel Tower — and it looks like in general, humanity is doing… okay-ish? Nobody has posted official casualty figures yet and I don’t have a frame of reference. But if it were going poorly, then we’d be sent from one desperate mission to the next, no?”

  Addy hummed in quiet appreciation. “Convergence events are marathons, not sprints. This is the start of the big one. Remember when I said the world wasn’t going to end in ten years? That’s how far the strongest precog can see into the future before it becomes too muddy. The next decades will slowly get worse. Our job is to pace ourselves so that we’re still alive by that time.”

  “Says you.” I found a particularly knotted spot in her lower back. She tensed as I attacked it with four thumbs at once before she melted with the cutest keening sound I’d ever heard her make. “We’re not going to, y’know, experience a total and apocalyptic collapse of society, are we?”

  “Not because of mimics, no.” What a nice way to assuage none of my worries at all. I needed society; society was where all my things were at: Good food, entertainment, soft beds, safe nights, friends, family, pets.

  I was a girl spider person thing. Girl spider person things are not native to earth. Most cryptids and creepy creatures aren’t, and yet many have made their lives on this very planet I call home. It stood to reason that there were other worlds besides the pink planet, other people, other opportunities, other threats.

  All that was on a collision course with earth.

  “Sam, I…” There was an odd look on Addy’s face, somewhere between half awake and half dreaming. Her voice had steadily declined in volume over the course of this evening until it was barely a whisper.

  I was busy shimmying her neck back and forth when I leaned down to meet her eyes. “Yes?”

  She blinked, then looked away. “I appreciate your concern. I haven’t had someone who was just there for me for years now. It’s… nice.”

  I cracked her neck and she yelped before taking in a few humming breaths.

  “Nice, huh?” I switched to the spot between her shoulder blades, digging in with every elbow on my left side. “It takes a lot of effort to ensure that you ever allow even one nice thing to happen to yourself. I love trying to help you, Addy, and I hate how you seem to think someone ever being nice to you is weird. But hey, at least you find my passable massaging skills nice.”

  “A-ah, I didn’t mean it like — eee!”

  I attacked her legs next. She had pretty nice thighs, though they were as tough with tension as the rest of her. With all my arms, I could assign two to attack her thighs, two to massage her calves, and two more to knead the strain out of her feet. I had to sit on her back, ensuring that she couldn’t move an inch.

  “But I’m not mad. In fact, I am happy about your candor. Here, let me show you how much I appreciate it.”

  For the next half hour, I learned how to play Addy like a Rubik's Cube. When I was done with her just-a-normal-girl form she moved onto her hybrid form. And once that was done, I was left with the colossal task of how to even move the solid iron muscles of her half-ton weretanuki warform.

  Somehow, I got it to work. Becca helped. She handed me some vibrating stones with a warming function which I placed strategically over her body.

  I sighed, wiping sweat off my brows as she returned to her normal girl form, contentedly drooling on a pillow that probably cost as much as a week of salary for the average working American.

  “There,” I said, a bit out of breath. “That’s how much I appreciate you. And tomorrow, you’re going to repay me by giving me some actual lessons. You were so excited to train me, remember?”

  No response.

  “Addy? You still awake?”

  Apparently, she was not. She’d fallen asleep with her eyes half open and rolled into her skull. Hers was not a graceful sleep. Calling her roadkill would be putting it in an unflattering way. But at least I finally got her to take more than a five minute nap.

  “Phew. I feel like I just played a perfect game of custom expert++ Guitar Hero. Now, how to prevent this tanuki from running off come daybreak?” I rubbed my chin, while simultaneously taking a well-deserved sip of soda and tucking Addy in a blanket.

  Becca’s pseudopod — basically just a part of herself that she was stretching out in a mitten-shaped glob — hovered over the side of the bed. A pair of handcuffs with a pink fur lining plopped onto it. I stared at it, then Becca, then the mind-broken Addy happily drooling away on the designer bed.

  Ah. Well. Whoops.

  I patted Becca on her slime head, which was surprisingly not very slimy. “I, uh, understand the implication. But don’t you think that’s a bit too kinky?”

  The entire left half of her body rose, imitating a raised eyebrow.

  “No, it is! Like, seriously, fuzzy handcuffs, on a bed?” The implications were obvious. Also, not what I was going for. I stared in exasperation at the steel handcuffs, picking them up and inspecting them from every side. “And please, stop using your soulcoins to buy me stuff. There are better uses. You should use it on yourself.”

  In response, Becca produced three more, one for every limb. She wiggled happily, the color of her sodapop body edging closer to orange than red. She was trying to play my wingwoman.

  “Why? Do you gain some second-hand enjoyment out of seeing me embarrassed?"

  Wobble wobble wobble wobble.

  I screamed my embarrassment into my hands.

  “Becca! It’s not like that between us!” Yet. Aah, no, dammit, why did you have to think that, me, whyyy? “You need consent. I don’t know if she’s interested — we haven’t even been on a single date!”

  But the idea stuck with me. I looked at the blanket, and the snoozing weretanuki.

  I may have an idea.

  +++

  Addy stirred on the other side of the bed moments after I woke up. Her contented smile turned to confusion as she realized her predicament.

  “Sam. Why am I wrapped in a bunch of blankets?”

  “Because you have a habit of not listening to me.” I crawled over to her and cupped her chin in my hands. “Spider instincts suggested using some climbing rope between each layer, so don’t even think of breaking out. Today, you are staying here. You won’t run out there and disappear for a few days only for me to patch you up. You will help me learn, you will help me train. Nod once if you understand.”

  Slowly, she moved her head up and down.

  “Good girl. Now, I’m going to make breakfast. And when I come back, I want to see you right where I left you, got it?”

  Trigger Happy: Magical Girl Arachnid Edition