“Were you the Adumbrae who kil—uh, attacked those people yesterday?” Myra was probably dying to ask me this since she heard the news; she did peace out of her ongoing online class and immediately drove to fetch me from Deen’s house after I called her. Realizing she sounded too accusatory, she took a step back and softened her tone. “Was it you? Er, I mean did you transform and lose control last night?
“The short answer is yes.”
We were back in the abandoned building where we previously practiced tapping my hysterical strength. The place was just as we left it yesterday. Dried blood, my dried blood, was on the partially destroyed concrete column and the rubble around it. The difference this time was Myra brought extra clothes for me; I changed in the backseat while we were on the road.
Myra actually could’ve just interrogated me in the car instead of waiting to get here. I wonder why she waited. Did she expect I might react violently, and thus picked a secluded place she could fight me just in case? She might be even assuming that the Adumbrae had already taken over my body.
“And the long answer is?” she asked. “Hold on, can you remember what happened or did you black out again?”
“My memory is a bit hazy because I did transform and lose control of myself, but not totally. It wasn’t like the time I escaped Eve. I think our practice yesterday helped in some way, like improving my mental strength to ignore pain contributed to gaining a foothold of sanity while I was in my Blanchette form.”
“What did happen after we left you at the bar?”
Before beginning my story, I melodramatically paced to the dried blood splatters—should we clean this up or something? I furrowed my brows as if I had a hard time remembering. “It was peaceful at the bar, there were just two other customers…” I didn’t bother cooking up an actual fake story; it was way easier and more believable to just slightly twist the truth. I just told her that the PCM mistook me for the SVS and I had to run.
“Crazy bunch of nutjobs,” spat Myra, “going after an even crazier bunch of nutjobs.”
“I wasn’t familiar with the area and got cornered. I could’ve taken them on…I think…but a couple had guns. I remembered what you said not to belittle normal humans if they have guns. I went along with them hoping I’d eventually get a chance to escape. I also didn’t want to reveal I was, you know, not human.”
“To be honest, I probably would’ve fought those guys if I was in your position,” she said with a shrug. “Not saying it’s the right call, by the way, it’s hard to judge a situation with guns in play.”
Continuing my story, I said, “The PCM people brought me to this huge compound full of warehouses, freight containers, and huge trucks.” I basically narrated what happened then, but I included myself with the captured SVS group. “I’m not sure if Ramello was there too; maybe he was because the BID is looking for him. What I’m sure of is we would’ve been killed if I didn’t transform.”
Myra nodded. “Okay, I get it now. Those crazy bastards were going to lynch innocent people—the SVS is also crazy, but innocent nonetheless. You were justified in killing those PCM idiots.”
“I didn’t—! Uh, only a…a few of them.”
“Only a few?” she repeated, puzzled. “Not sure what ‘a few’ is to you, but the news report says it’s—” She stopped upon seeing my depressed expression.
“I don’t want to kill humans.” I covered my face with my hands and shuddered. I didn’t need to do this bit, but I was feeling giddy because of all the sugar I ate, and being a bit dramatic was a good way to release energy.
“Don’t blame yourself.” Myra awkwardly patted my back. “Killing is bad…okay, that sounded lame. But you were left with no choice. You were in danger and you defended yourself, and others…” She added in a barely audible murmur, “If they survived.”
I assumed she unconsciously said that, so I just ignored it. “Guilt, yes I feel that.” I slowly shook my head with my eyes closed. “But it’s not only that. It also feels like…like if I lose control while fighting, the faster the A-Adumbrae will get hold of me. I-I can’t…I don’t know what to do.”
“You already said you had more control when you transformed because of our practice. Which means you need more practice.”
“Yeah…yeah, you’re right. That’s actually why I called you. If only I had more experience fighting, I could’ve fought those people even if they had guns. As much as possible, I don’t want to transform. If I can fight as just me, that’ll be great.”
“Let’s practice with you as just regular Erind, and then we’ll try to see if you can control yourself as Blanchette. That was our deal, wasn’t it? I teach you how to fight, how to get stronger and use your powers, and you help me find Kelsey.”
“Thanks, Myra.” I weakly smiled at her.
“Perk up now,” she said, giving me an awkward smile in return. “And don’t think about the people you kil—er, don’t think about what happened. At all. You don’t want to stay up all night thinking about them. Trust me, I’ve been there. Better not to watch the news too. They’re incorrectly reporting the casualties. I assumed you attacked some of those PCM guys and then the rest ran away? But the news says there are many—”
“Many people did die! But I already told you it wasn’t me.”
“Wha—? I don’t understand.”
“I think the media is underreporting the casualties. But it wasn’t me…or mostly not because of me. Another Adumbrae was there.” I described the kid with the axe and his powers, and my fight with him—but I did kind of switch our places in the narrative. “I swear I tried to avoid hitting other people. But I was just so scared that I…I might’ve injured a few as I scrambled to escape.”
“An Adumbrae with an axe? We haven’t—”
“So many people died…just so many. Some deaths are because of me. The Adumbrae was chasing me and killing everyone in the way. It’s my fault that—”
“Erind!” She held my shoulders. I looked up at her. “That Adumbrae killed them. Not you. Get it?”
I nodded.
“You’re not responsible for everyone’s lives. Don’t think about that anymore. We should focus on this new Adumbrae.”
“Ah…yes. Could he be with the 2Ms?”
“We haven’t met or heard of this kid before. And isn’t that weird that he’s a child? It could be an experiment of the 2Ms.”
“That’s the second reason why I wanted to meet with you. I didn’t want to tell anyone else about the kid Adumbrae I met, not even Deen. It’d be hard to come up with a story of how I ended up at that place. But I had to tell someone, and it’s either you or Johann.”
“You were right to tell me about this,” Myra said. “Speaking of Johann, he did some digging about that warehouse compound. He found out it was owned by Dawson Stevedoring…something. It’s a long name, I can’t exactly remember it. The point is, this Dawson company is one of the known business fronts of the 2Ms.”
“So, it’s really them!” I said, acting shocked. Figures. Who else would be experimenting on making children Adumbrae? There was something else that bothered me about this whole thing. “This Dawson company…I think I’ve seen their logo before.”
“The docks where we saved you—”
“It was the same company?”
“Yep. This whole thing got the fingerprints of the 2Ms all over it. The EFU Medical Center. The Dawson warehouses, which aren’t that far from the hospital. Perhaps the PCM too? Capturing the SVS could be a fake story to trick the protesters into gathering more experiment subjects for the 2Ms. Somehow these are all connected, and we just don’t know how.”
Myra grilled me for more details concerning that night, taking down notes to share with Johann. I could tell she wasn’t completely on board with my story about a new Adumbrae, which was funny because that part was actually true. I bet she was half-thinking I was making up shit because I didn’t want to admit to killing a lot of people. Overall, I think I did a pretty good job keeping my story straight.
If Johann could get information from the BID investigation that conflicted with what I told Myra, I could just chuck it to faulty memory due to my wild transformation, or that the BID was covering something up. My story was mostly true anyway.
It was just a matter of who killed who.
And who cares about that?
“I’ll talk to Johann after our practice,” said Myra, “and we’ll come up with some way to share this with the group without mentioning you. The stuff he dug up about the Dawson company should be a good start, but we also have to tell them about this new Adumbrae. I bet they’re from the Red Island. All the more reason for us to prepare to fight. Should we start our practice?”
“Keep up, keep up.” Myra’s words were echoing inside her helmet. She expertly weaved backwards through the columns while facing me, intentionally keeping out of my range by only a few inches. “Come on, just one hit.”
“I’m trying,” I huffed as I chased after her, punching and kicking while avoiding the thick concrete columns. I already learned my lesson—I clipped their edges a couple of times.
Five minutes, or maybe closer to ten minutes had passed since we started what Myra called ‘light sparring’, and I hadn’t landed a single hit on her. She kept on giving random advice like ‘don’t flail around’ and ‘focus your strength’, which didn’t really help me much. To be fair, it was hard to give detailed advice when she was concentrating on avoiding getting pummeled by yours truly.
She told me to go ahead and give it my all to simulate an actual fight. To protect herself, she fully encased her body with her bark armor thingy. She also made herself larger with leg and arm extensions made of the same bark material, explaining that several Adumbrae they encountered were much bigger than normal humans. I sort of shared the same experience.
“Keep your form tight,” she called out.
“Yes, got it!” I answered. What the fuck does that even mean? It sounded like cliché advice from action movies.
I drove Myra into the middle of the building where there were no columns—or maybe she let herself be herded this way. I rushed to get close to her. All her tips from yesterday flitted in my mind, I tried to replicate the correct form for a punch and then threw my fist as hard as I could.
Tendrils shot diagonally downwards out her side, burying into the floor and pushing her body out of the way. I ended up punching those tendrils; they might as well be dried twigs that crumbled from my attack. But because they were brittle and barely offered any resistance, the force of my punch carried me forward and put me off-balance. I ended up tumbling on the floor.
“Good try,” Myra said. “But you’re still flailing. Attacking with power and making sure you maintain your balance are both equally important. You’ll leave yourself open to counterattacks afterward.”
“Okay, I understand.” I nodded as I sat on the dirty ground analyzing the situation. This is super annoying.
My fighting instincts were woefully absent when I was just my cute and pretty Erind self. Movements as Blanchette were way smoother, more coordinated, and I had more sense in what I was doing. During my fight last night against the kid and his weird axe—mostly the weird axe—I was like the protagonist in an action movie with how I moved…just erase the using human shields thing.
The worst part with our sparring was that this wasn’t enjoyable as myself. Was there something with my transformation that made fighting entertaining? Was it because I could feel extreme emotions such as rage and bloodlust only as Blanchette? Right now, fighting felt like a chore. Perhaps if this was life or death, I’d be more excited.
I wouldn’t say addicted, but I did like the thrill of the battle. It was…cathartic? I wasn’t sure if that was the right term. I’ve used the word ‘cathartic’ a few times, but I never actually knew what it felt like. It probably wasn’t possible for me to feel catharsis.
I’m going to hit Myra, I firmly resolved.
Might as well make this learning experience an enjoyable one. I picked myself up and dusted off my butt with a closed fist, feeling the two stones I palmed in each of my hands. Although I sucked at fighting with this body, I was sure I could throw accurately. I just needed the perfect opportunity. For now, I should make her more complacent.
We went back to our spar.
“And you’re sticking too close to me,” Myra said. She lightly shoved me with her long branchy arms and jumped back to avoid my punch.
“Because my reach is too short,” I retorted, allowing frustration to creep in my voice. This reminded me of college when I had a judo PE class. It was so irritating getting paired with a much taller girl. I couldn’t get a hold of them; they’d grab me straight away when I approached them.
“That’s why it’s best to attack from a distance.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “But throwing stuff from afar won’t do much.”
Our fighting continued, and she was starting to get more relaxed. She poked me a couple more times, and I just let her. Just a bit more.
She shoved me again. This was it!
I hooked her arm and pinned it to my side. Myra inhaled sharply. I yanked her down, surprising her with how much strength I was holding back.
Out of reflex, she swung her other arm at me for real—it was a blur in my peripheral vision. I lashed at it with my other arm, punching through it. I got both of her arms. Just the extensions, but still. I raised my leg.
Myra already knew what I was going to do. Branches sprouted out her chest, catching my kick and pushing me away. She also broke off her arm extension to get free of me.
“You almost got me,” she said with a grin as she retreated. The branches receded into her bark armor. “I admit I was care—oh!”
I threw a stone at her leg that was stepping back, breaking her blade stilt. She wobbled to the left. I hurled the other stone at her head when she turned to check what happened to her leg. She yelped as it hit her. I charged and leaped in the air. She instinctively held up her arms. I punched downwards, putting my weight behind it. Her arms protected her chest, but I hooked my punch to her stomach.
Myra’s body slammed to the ground. And I slammed into her. She bounced up and we hit each other again because my arm was stuck in her armor. The impact dislodged my arm and threw me off. I rolled several feet away.
Shit, my arm hurts. I quickly picked myself up. I could feel my finger bones were broken. I looked down at my arm. My skin was scored like a roast pig. Shards of the bark armor were buried deep in my flesh. Blood coated my fist; some mine, most hers. Did I…?
Oh, wait.
“Myra!” I exclaimed, rushing to her side. Move out of the way people, concerned friend coming through. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—oh my god! I broke your armor!”
She coughed up blood. Flecks stuck to my left cheek. “I-I’m fine,” she croaked. She tried to smile to back her words. “Le-let’s take…five.”
“Were you the Adumbrae who kil—uh, attacked those people yesterday?” Myra was probably dying to ask me this since she heard the news; she did peace out of her ongoing online class and immediately drove to fetch me from Deen’s house after I called her. Realizing she sounded too accusatory, she took a step back and softened her tone. “Was it you? Er, I mean did you transform and lose control last night?
“The short answer is yes.”
We were back in the abandoned building where we previously practiced tapping my hysterical strength. The place was just as we left it yesterday. Dried blood, my dried blood, was on the partially destroyed concrete column and the rubble around it. The difference this time was Myra brought extra clothes for me; I changed in the backseat while we were on the road.
Myra actually could’ve just interrogated me in the car instead of waiting to get here. I wonder why she waited. Did she expect I might react violently, and thus picked a secluded place she could fight me just in case? She might be even assuming that the Adumbrae had already taken over my body.
“And the long answer is?” she asked. “Hold on, can you remember what happened or did you black out again?”
“My memory is a bit hazy because I did transform and lose control of myself, but not totally. It wasn’t like the time I escaped Eve. I think our practice yesterday helped in some way, like improving my mental strength to ignore pain contributed to gaining a foothold of sanity while I was in my Blanchette form.”
“What did happen after we left you at the bar?”
Before beginning my story, I melodramatically paced to the dried blood splatters—should we clean this up or something? I furrowed my brows as if I had a hard time remembering. “It was peaceful at the bar, there were just two other customers…” I didn’t bother cooking up an actual fake story; it was way easier and more believable to just slightly twist the truth. I just told her that the PCM mistook me for the SVS and I had to run.
“Crazy bunch of nutjobs,” spat Myra, “going after an even crazier bunch of nutjobs.”
“I wasn’t familiar with the area and got cornered. I could’ve taken them on…I think…but a couple had guns. I remembered what you said not to belittle normal humans if they have guns. I went along with them hoping I’d eventually get a chance to escape. I also didn’t want to reveal I was, you know, not human.”
“To be honest, I probably would’ve fought those guys if I was in your position,” she said with a shrug. “Not saying it’s the right call, by the way, it’s hard to judge a situation with guns in play.”
Continuing my story, I said, “The PCM people brought me to this huge compound full of warehouses, freight containers, and huge trucks.” I basically narrated what happened then, but I included myself with the captured SVS group. “I’m not sure if Ramello was there too; maybe he was because the BID is looking for him. What I’m sure of is we would’ve been killed if I didn’t transform.”
Myra nodded. “Okay, I get it now. Those crazy bastards were going to lynch innocent people—the SVS is also crazy, but innocent nonetheless. You were justified in killing those PCM idiots.”
“I didn’t—! Uh, only a…a few of them.”
“Only a few?” she repeated, puzzled. “Not sure what ‘a few’ is to you, but the news report says it’s—” She stopped upon seeing my depressed expression.
“I don’t want to kill humans.” I covered my face with my hands and shuddered. I didn’t need to do this bit, but I was feeling giddy because of all the sugar I ate, and being a bit dramatic was a good way to release energy.
“Don’t blame yourself.” Myra awkwardly patted my back. “Killing is bad…okay, that sounded lame. But you were left with no choice. You were in danger and you defended yourself, and others…” She added in a barely audible murmur, “If they survived.”
I assumed she unconsciously said that, so I just ignored it. “Guilt, yes I feel that.” I slowly shook my head with my eyes closed. “But it’s not only that. It also feels like…like if I lose control while fighting, the faster the A-Adumbrae will get hold of me. I-I can’t…I don’t know what to do.”
“You already said you had more control when you transformed because of our practice. Which means you need more practice.”
“Yeah…yeah, you’re right. That’s actually why I called you. If only I had more experience fighting, I could’ve fought those people even if they had guns. As much as possible, I don’t want to transform. If I can fight as just me, that’ll be great.”
“Let’s practice with you as just regular Erind, and then we’ll try to see if you can control yourself as Blanchette. That was our deal, wasn’t it? I teach you how to fight, how to get stronger and use your powers, and you help me find Kelsey.”
“Thanks, Myra.” I weakly smiled at her.
“Perk up now,” she said, giving me an awkward smile in return. “And don’t think about the people you kil—er, don’t think about what happened. At all. You don’t want to stay up all night thinking about them. Trust me, I’ve been there. Better not to watch the news too. They’re incorrectly reporting the casualties. I assumed you attacked some of those PCM guys and then the rest ran away? But the news says there are many—”
“Many people did die! But I already told you it wasn’t me.”
“Wha—? I don’t understand.”
“I think the media is underreporting the casualties. But it wasn’t me…or mostly not because of me. Another Adumbrae was there.” I described the kid with the axe and his powers, and my fight with him—but I did kind of switch our places in the narrative. “I swear I tried to avoid hitting other people. But I was just so scared that I…I might’ve injured a few as I scrambled to escape.”
“An Adumbrae with an axe? We haven’t—”
“So many people died…just so many. Some deaths are because of me. The Adumbrae was chasing me and killing everyone in the way. It’s my fault that—”
“Erind!” She held my shoulders. I looked up at her. “That Adumbrae killed them. Not you. Get it?”
I nodded.
“You’re not responsible for everyone’s lives. Don’t think about that anymore. We should focus on this new Adumbrae.”
“Ah…yes. Could he be with the 2Ms?”
“We haven’t met or heard of this kid before. And isn’t that weird that he’s a child? It could be an experiment of the 2Ms.”
“That’s the second reason why I wanted to meet with you. I didn’t want to tell anyone else about the kid Adumbrae I met, not even Deen. It’d be hard to come up with a story of how I ended up at that place. But I had to tell someone, and it’s either you or Johann.”
“You were right to tell me about this,” Myra said. “Speaking of Johann, he did some digging about that warehouse compound. He found out it was owned by Dawson Stevedoring…something. It’s a long name, I can’t exactly remember it. The point is, this Dawson company is one of the known business fronts of the 2Ms.”
“So, it’s really them!” I said, acting shocked. Figures. Who else would be experimenting on making children Adumbrae? There was something else that bothered me about this whole thing. “This Dawson company…I think I’ve seen their logo before.”
“The docks where we saved you—”
“It was the same company?”
“Yep. This whole thing got the fingerprints of the 2Ms all over it. The EFU Medical Center. The Dawson warehouses, which aren’t that far from the hospital. Perhaps the PCM too? Capturing the SVS could be a fake story to trick the protesters into gathering more experiment subjects for the 2Ms. Somehow these are all connected, and we just don’t know how.”
Myra grilled me for more details concerning that night, taking down notes to share with Johann. I could tell she wasn’t completely on board with my story about a new Adumbrae, which was funny because that part was actually true. I bet she was half-thinking I was making up shit because I didn’t want to admit to killing a lot of people. Overall, I think I did a pretty good job keeping my story straight.
If Johann could get information from the BID investigation that conflicted with what I told Myra, I could just chuck it to faulty memory due to my wild transformation, or that the BID was covering something up. My story was mostly true anyway.
It was just a matter of who killed who.
And who cares about that?
“I’ll talk to Johann after our practice,” said Myra, “and we’ll come up with some way to share this with the group without mentioning you. The stuff he dug up about the Dawson company should be a good start, but we also have to tell them about this new Adumbrae. I bet they’re from the Red Island. All the more reason for us to prepare to fight. Should we start our practice?”
“Keep up, keep up.” Myra’s words were echoing inside her helmet. She expertly weaved backwards through the columns while facing me, intentionally keeping out of my range by only a few inches. “Come on, just one hit.”
“I’m trying,” I huffed as I chased after her, punching and kicking while avoiding the thick concrete columns. I already learned my lesson—I clipped their edges a couple of times.
Five minutes, or maybe closer to ten minutes had passed since we started what Myra called ‘light sparring’, and I hadn’t landed a single hit on her. She kept on giving random advice like ‘don’t flail around’ and ‘focus your strength’, which didn’t really help me much. To be fair, it was hard to give detailed advice when she was concentrating on avoiding getting pummeled by yours truly.
She told me to go ahead and give it my all to simulate an actual fight. To protect herself, she fully encased her body with her bark armor thingy. She also made herself larger with leg and arm extensions made of the same bark material, explaining that several Adumbrae they encountered were much bigger than normal humans. I sort of shared the same experience.
“Keep your form tight,” she called out.
“Yes, got it!” I answered. What the fuck does that even mean? It sounded like cliché advice from action movies.
I drove Myra into the middle of the building where there were no columns—or maybe she let herself be herded this way. I rushed to get close to her. All her tips from yesterday flitted in my mind, I tried to replicate the correct form for a punch and then threw my fist as hard as I could.
Tendrils shot diagonally downwards out her side, burying into the floor and pushing her body out of the way. I ended up punching those tendrils; they might as well be dried twigs that crumbled from my attack. But because they were brittle and barely offered any resistance, the force of my punch carried me forward and put me off-balance. I ended up tumbling on the floor.
“Good try,” Myra said. “But you’re still flailing. Attacking with power and making sure you maintain your balance are both equally important. You’ll leave yourself open to counterattacks afterward.”
“Okay, I understand.” I nodded as I sat on the dirty ground analyzing the situation. This is super annoying.
My fighting instincts were woefully absent when I was just my cute and pretty Erind self. Movements as Blanchette were way smoother, more coordinated, and I had more sense in what I was doing. During my fight last night against the kid and his weird axe—mostly the weird axe—I was like the protagonist in an action movie with how I moved…just erase the using human shields thing.
The worst part with our sparring was that this wasn’t enjoyable as myself. Was there something with my transformation that made fighting entertaining? Was it because I could feel extreme emotions such as rage and bloodlust only as Blanchette? Right now, fighting felt like a chore. Perhaps if this was life or death, I’d be more excited.
I wouldn’t say addicted, but I did like the thrill of the battle. It was…cathartic? I wasn’t sure if that was the right term. I’ve used the word ‘cathartic’ a few times, but I never actually knew what it felt like. It probably wasn’t possible for me to feel catharsis.
I’m going to hit Myra, I firmly resolved.
Might as well make this learning experience an enjoyable one. I picked myself up and dusted off my butt with a closed fist, feeling the two stones I palmed in each of my hands. Although I sucked at fighting with this body, I was sure I could throw accurately. I just needed the perfect opportunity. For now, I should make her more complacent.
We went back to our spar.
“And you’re sticking too close to me,” Myra said. She lightly shoved me with her long branchy arms and jumped back to avoid my punch.
“Because my reach is too short,” I retorted, allowing frustration to creep in my voice. This reminded me of college when I had a judo PE class. It was so irritating getting paired with a much taller girl. I couldn’t get a hold of them; they’d grab me straight away when I approached them.
“That’s why it’s best to attack from a distance.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “But throwing stuff from afar won’t do much.”
Our fighting continued, and she was starting to get more relaxed. She poked me a couple more times, and I just let her. Just a bit more.
She shoved me again. This was it!
I hooked her arm and pinned it to my side. Myra inhaled sharply. I yanked her down, surprising her with how much strength I was holding back.
Out of reflex, she swung her other arm at me for real—it was a blur in my peripheral vision. I lashed at it with my other arm, punching through it. I got both of her arms. Just the extensions, but still. I raised my leg.
Myra already knew what I was going to do. Branches sprouted out her chest, catching my kick and pushing me away. She also broke off her arm extension to get free of me.
“You almost got me,” she said with a grin as she retreated. The branches receded into her bark armor. “I admit I was care—oh!”
I threw a stone at her leg that was stepping back, breaking her blade stilt. She wobbled to the left. I hurled the other stone at her head when she turned to check what happened to her leg. She yelped as it hit her. I charged and leaped in the air. She instinctively held up her arms. I punched downwards, putting my weight behind it. Her arms protected her chest, but I hooked my punch to her stomach.
Myra’s body slammed to the ground. And I slammed into her. She bounced up and we hit each other again because my arm was stuck in her armor. The impact dislodged my arm and threw me off. I rolled several feet away.
Shit, my arm hurts. I quickly picked myself up. I could feel my finger bones were broken. I looked down at my arm. My skin was scored like a roast pig. Shards of the bark armor were buried deep in my flesh. Blood coated my fist; some mine, most hers. Did I…?
Oh, wait.
“Myra!” I exclaimed, rushing to her side. Move out of the way people, concerned friend coming through. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—oh my god! I broke your armor!”
She coughed up blood. Flecks stuck to my left cheek. “I-I’m fine,” she croaked. She tried to smile to back her words. “Le-let’s take…five.”
