"Squidlings Rule, Okay?"
Oct. 4th, 2024 06:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Squidlings Rule, Okay?"
6/2024
I.
At three in the morning, the CORBY dropped silently out of an overcast sky. With no visible lights and making no more sound than a breeze, the black stealthcopter might not have even been noticed by anyone driving on this stretch of Northern California highway. The rotors slowed as the craft settled to the hardpacked sand.
In the pilot seat, Ashley Whitaker turned her head toward her teammate. The platinum hair shone in the subdued pastel greens and blues of all the dials and gauges. "You sure you have everything? You brought your field suit just in case?"
Sheng Mo-Yuan unbuckled his restraint straps and reached through the opening in the divider between the cockpit and the section behind them. He tugged out two matching suitcases and managed to place them in the tight space by his feet. "Sure, I'm all set."
"And you'll call your Uncle Pao at breakfast time?"
"And be ready for an hour lecture about how I didn't leave the playlist exactly the way he likes it so he can watch movies on my laptop all day."
"Sure," said the little blonde, twisting the combined collective/cyclic stick by her hand. "Wave when you're far enough away from the rotors so I can lift up without lopping your fool head off."
Sheng opened the hatch to his left with a hiss as pressurized air escaped. "Oh come on, Unicorn. When did you start being such a worry bug?"
"Our team is going to Androval for at least a few days," she said. "We won't even have anyone answering the phone."
"I'm used to working alone." As he hopped out, he called back before the hatch sealed again, "But your concern is appreciated. You be careful, too."
When he was fifty feet away, Sheng waved both arms in the all clear signal. Faster and smoother than any normal helicopter, the CORBY shot straight up and was gone from sight in a second. Sheng honestly could not tell in which direction it had gone. He picked up both suitcases and started a brisk walk alongside the highway, facing any oncoming traffic.
The motel he was heading for was a mile and a half away. Sheng could have used his Argent power to channel gralic force into his body for enhanced speed, but there was no need for that. Moving at his normal rate was fine. It was a crisp, almost chilly night and he enjoyed the walk. Tomorrow, he had to lease a car and investigate what his captain Sable had found were strange things afoot in this area.
There were an increasing number of missing persons and, significantly, they were people the police would not be noticeably energetic about looking for. The homeless, drug dealers, drifters with no families. There were odd break-ins for the theft of items that were not particularly valuable. And there had been so much senseless vandalism. Breaking windows of cars but not stealing anything from them, splashing red paint on houses, snapping mailboxes in half. None of it made much sense, which in itself was alarming. So Sheng had been assigned to investigate.
He heard a deep rumble behind him and moved well off the highway as a huge eighteen wheeler roared past on the opposite side of the highway. Sheng moved back and started walking again, going over the reports again in his head and wondering if some of the crimes were unrelated. Headlights were coming toward him. He moved a bit to one side before realizing that the oncoming car was accelerating sharply. In the split-second he had, Sheng drew on gralic force to increase his body's resilience just before he was struck by a car going ninety miles an hour and thrown high into the air.
II.
Even at his maximum density, Sheng was not literally invulnerable, just very durable and resistant to harm. He spun in a wild loop at head height and crashed with a thump to the dirt out of sight of the highway, skidding on his back until friction brought him to a halt. The breath was knocked entirely out of his lungs and he saw nothing but blinking flashes of light. It took a few interminable minutes before his enhanced healing kicked in and he felt relatively normal.
Cursing didn't make the aches and soreness go away but it did not express his feelings about the experience. He got to his feet, stretching and groaning but finding he had not been seriously hurt. What had that been all about? Had any of the KDF's enemies overheard the report from the observers about the weird crime wave? But no, Sable had only given Sheng this assignment an hour earlier and no one could have known he was coming here. Certainly, even their most organized and resourceful enemies couldn't have cars cruising every road looking for a KDF member.
Maybe just a drunk driver? Or maybe part of the senseless violence afflicting this area?
One suitcase was still clenched in his hand, and Sheng sighed as he resigned himself to searching for the other one. Then he realized his suit jacket's back was shredded where he had skidded along the rocky ground. Now he was genuinely angry. Sheng was fussy about his wardrobe. He had his suits tailored for him and spent a substantial amount for quality material. At only five feet five inches tall, he felt dressing well gave him an edge when dealing with Americans half a foot taller. This medium brown suit with its matching vest and tan shirt had been one of his favorite outfits.
As he began trudging resentfully back toward the highway, looking for his other suitcase, Sheng suddenly grinned at himself. Someone had tried to murder him, he had been flung for yards through the air and had only survived because of his gralic powers. And his reaction had been rage at having his jacket ruined....
Right by the side of Route 117 was his suitcase, not visibly damaged. Sheng shrugged out of his ruined jacket and tied it to the handle of his suitcase. He resumed his trek down the highway and soon saw the lights of the HAV-A-REST MOTEL with the blue cursive VACANCY sign lit. He had picked this motel because its ad in a local paper said its front desk was open twenty-four hours. There were five cars parked in front of the long row of doors. Sheng found a surprisingly young woman working the front desk at nearly four in the morning, evidently a college student.
After Sheng registered and received his key, the girl tried to hold him in conversation. Maybe she was just bored and wanted to chat, but then Sheng wore expensive clothes and was obviously very fit. No wedding ring. Most people thought he was Northern Chinese, despite the eagle-beaked nose. Remarking how tired he was, Sheng excused himself. His room was at the far end of the building, next to a pair of vending machines.
Here was a chance to indulge in some junk food without a lengthy lecture from Uncle Pao! He had a few singles on him. Sheng bought a chocolate bar, a small bag of potato chips and a can of root beer. If only he could stay awake long enough to wolf everything down. Sheng moved toward his room's door and froze into place. Suddenly he was not sleepy in the least. He felt cold. Spray-painted on the side of a vending machine were the words SQUIDLINGS RULE, OKAY?
III.
Sheng broke all his cautionary rules for the next hour. He did not check the motel room out, he did not place the hard rubber wedges to secure the door and window, he didn't even turn a light on. He stretched out on the queen-sized bed, stared up into darkness and remembered everything he knew about Squid Vicious.
The two of them had never met, but he had read the case files. His teammates in the KDF had fought Vicious twice and the last time they had taken him prisoner. Frank Mills had examined him at a Trom facility in New Mexico for three months, then had agreed to turn him over to a cephalopod specialist, which had been a mistake. Vicious had become lethargic and unresponsive, which had been an act so he could kill the biologist and escape. The monster had gone on the run and had not been recaptured. The Mandate and the FBI's Department 21 Black had searched for him as well as the KDF but since Vicious was perfectly at home in the ocean, the odds of finding him were low.
Sheng got up and secured the door and window, then belatedly checked the bathroom. What was wrong with him? Twenty years surviving the Midnight War should have made that so automatic he would have done all this while sleepwalking. He kicked off his dress shoes and remembered the snacks. A long tug on the root beer produced a satisfying belch. Squid Vicious shouldn't worry him. He had tackled much scarier opponents. The squidman should be apprehensive about tangling with Sheng Mo-Yuan!
He knew that a minor member of a New Jersey mob had been cursed by a Dartha to take on attributes of a squid. Frank Pugliese's nickname in the badlands had been Squid because of an unreasonable love of calamari and because he claimed he had tentacles in ten different rackets. Pugliese's transformation was an ongoing process. When captured, he had gills to breath underwater, smooth grey skin thick as rubber, and sharp pointed teeth. Two thick tentacles grew from under his right arm and two more from his left side. These had hooked suckers on their inner surface and could extend to a length of twelve feet or instead retract into compact coils.
According to the biologist who had been studying him, Vicious had continued to mutate. A siphon had grown from his windpipe out the front of his throat. Two additional, thinner tentacles were developing from his shoulders. And his teeth had started fusing together in what seemed to be the beginning of a beak. Sheng didn't know what to think, would Pugliese eventually turn entirely into a literal squid? Darthan magic was incredibly potent.
At this time of year, dawn came around five in the morning and light was showing through the curtains in the room's only window. Sheng felt he should grab a few hours sleep before starting on the manhunt. Squid Vicious had assembled three different gangs of thugs and it seemed certain that these Squidlings were another such gang. There was going to be a lot of work ahead.
Sheng dropped off instantly into a deep dreamless sleep that seemed to last only for seconds before a loud beeping startled him so much that he fell off the bed completely.
IV.
Entirely by reflex, Sheng leaped up into a ready stance with his open left hand extended and his right fist up by his ear Then he realized it was his Link beeping. With an embarrassed grin, he unclipped it from his belt and took the call. "Hello?"
"What kind of a nephew are you?" came an indignant voice. "Where is the fish head?"
"Oh. Good morning, Uncle."
"You didn't throw it out, I hope."
"Uncle, it had collapsed into black goo. I didn't want you getting food poisoning. There's fresh chicken slices and a whole bag of snow peas in the mini-fridge. Any calls for me?"
"Yes, a dozen beautiful young women, one after the other, wanting to hire you." Uncle Pao added with glee, "I told them you were too busy and sent them to your crazy friend the Dire Wolf."
'You are an excellent office manager." Now in his early eighties, Uncle Pao had given up his apartment by Washington Square and moved into Sheng's office without mentioning it. Sheng actually liked this. The office had a bathroom with a shower, a comfortable couch and the deli next door delivered. He hadn't been happy about the old man taking the subway at night. "I'm sure Jeremy will appreciate some visitors."
"One more thing! The Feng Shui is all wrong. Good luck flows out the door and there is no place for ghosts to sit. We should turn your desk around. It must face the fan-shaped window!"
"Wait, so then I'd be sitting with my back to the door when clients come in...?"
"It is a small sacrifice for harmonious arrangement," Pao said solemnly.
Sheng tapped the side of his Link. The Trom device played something he had recorded not long ago. The sound of someone knocking on a door rang out clearly and repeated itself a few seconds later. "Just a second!" he called, then told Pao, "I have to go, Uncle," and broke the connection. This made him slightly uncomfortable. He loved the old man, even though they were not actually related. Sheng came from the adjacent realm of Chujir and had no family in this world. But he and Pao had formed a bond better than many actual blood kin enjoyed. He would call back later and chat for a while.
Glancing over at a round clock on the wall, he was surprised to see it was almost noon. He had gotten more sleep than he had thought. Time to get busy. Clicking open his pigskin suitcase, Sheng took out the shampoo and soap he preferred, as well as his electric razor. He stripped off his clothing and stood revealed as a remarkably toned athletic man. Like most knights of Tel Shai, Sheng did not have bodybuilder muscles but looked like a runner with startling definition. He went into the bathroom for a steaming hot shower and shave.
Toweled dry, Sheng got into fresh socks, underwear and T-shirt before putting on the other suit he had packed. This was Navy blue with faint chalk pinstripes, a powder blue dress shirt and a thin black tie. He was still vexed about having his brown jacket ruined but realized there were more important things to think about. Lunch sounded like a good idea but that would have to wait.
Using his Link, he called for a taxi and was told it would be about fifteen minutes. Sheng tried calling KDF headquarters, found that no one was there and left a brief mesage about the Squidlings and their boss. He wasn't much of a team player anyway, if he was being honest. Years of working by himself for his Fist For Hire agency had increased his natural self-reliance. He went outside and leaned against the wall of the motel. While waiting for the taxi, he started looking up facts about actual squid and became engrossed in learning about those remarkable mollusks.
Across the highway from a Rent A Car place was the Olympia Diner, and Sheng asked to be dropped off there. A substantial lunch of Lasagne alla Bolognese with sliced melons for desert and iced tea left him feeling more fortified. Then he ran across the road, rented a black Nissan Rogue using his KDF expense account card and eased out into traffic feeling eager to get started on this case.
Before leaving Manhattan, Sheng had studied maps of this area. He had saved some useful addresses and numbers on his Link, this was standard prep. His first stop was a weathered one-story brick building that housed the offices of local newspaper COAST RECORD. Sheng carried a number of impressive documents showing he was not only a licensed Private Investigator, he was endorsed by the Mandate from the DOJ and the FBI's Department 21 Black.
The managing editor was unavailable at the moment, but the senior of the five reporters happily agreed to give Sheng a few minutes. This turned into a full half hour of seemingly unrelated incidents gone over in great detail. Kevin Elting was an intense old fellow who got more agitated the longer he spoke. All the incidents seemed to have started back in February and had been picking up steam over the months.
First, nine people were known to have vanished. Four had been homeless, three had been drug dealers. The other two had been ordinary workers at the cement plant on Hickory Road. Also, five men had been savagely beaten late at night after leaving bars. All had required hospital stays, but strangely none had been robbed. One had even been getting in his new Mazda but neither the car nor anything in it had been touched.
Possibly related were numerous reports of a silver Infiniti running pedestrians off the road, sideswiping other cars and causing one bicyclist to take a tumble down a hill, although he had not been injured. Hearing this, Sheng raised one eyebrow but said nothing about his own experience the night before.
Less violent was a surge of late night robberies of closed stores. Cash was taken, as well as prescription drugs and electronics but also stolen were items of no particular value like cheap lawn ornaments, plastic cups and a case of paper clips. Burglar alarms and cameras had been smashed, even those in seemingly inaccessible locations.
Finally, there was all the pointless vandalism. Tires slashed on cars, streetlights shot out, buckets of bleach poured over trees.
Seeing a pause in the reporter's tirade, Sheng mentioned the words he had seen painted on the vending machine.
Elting slapped his palm on his desk so hard that everyone nearby jumped and a few peered out of their cubicle to make sure nothing was wrong. "That's the clincher! People say it's some new teen gang but I've asked twenty or thirty parents and they've never heard their kids mention any Squidlings! What the hell? What does it mean?"
"You've given me a lot to look into," Sheng said, rising. He raised his voice slightly, "I'll be staying at the Hav-A-Rest down on Route 211 the next few days. Room 9. I can be reached there." He saw several of the staff nod to acknowledge this and he left the building.
Next was the very new Town Hall on the outskirts of town. Sheng found that this was actually a group of connected buildings including the Water Department, DMV and the Police Department which was his goal. His credentials only got him ten minutes with a grumpy Sgt Louis J Bruno. Sheng said he had been hired to investigate the ongoing incidents in the area and Bruno responded with an annoyed lecture about how everything had been exaggerated. The vandalism and missing persons and petty thefts were completely unrelated.
Sheng asked about the Squidlings graffiti and got yelled at about giving attention to some sort of juvenile pranks. Feeling that he was about to get thrown out bodily, Sheng rose and thanked the sergeant, mentioning where he would be the next few days.
The rest of the day was spent stopping at various stores and bars around town. Sheng made purchases in the stores and said he was curious about the Squidlings, then added where he could be found. He did the same in the bars, having a few drinks which no longer affected him since his enhanced healing from the Tagra tea regimen let his body pass alcohol without interaction. He didn't care if these people thought he was weird, the objective was to broadcast his whereabouts.
At seven o'clock, which would be four in the afternoon back in New York, he parked outside the diner and called Uncle Pao for a long chat. He was informed that a minor crook had stopped by with a shady deal. Pao's description of the man and imitation of a Tennessee accent had Sheng shaking with silent laughter. They talked about minor matters, Pao said he was going to mop the office floor and dust everything to stay awake and they said goodbye. Sheng went into the diner for a roast turkey dinner, thinking over the day and hoping he had set out enough bait. He was back at the motel just as it was getting dark.
V.
At two-thirty in the morning, an unreasonably elevated SUV rolled up to the Hav-A-Rest with only its parking lights on. In the window of Room 9, the flickering blue light of a TV showed through the curtains. Three men in dark clothes got out of the vehicle and stepped silently up to the motel. Two were both tall and broad, intimidating by size alone, but the third one was odd. Average in height but round in the torso, he was draped in a loose white raincoat even on this warm night. A wide-brimmed hat was pulled low to hide his face, As this one flanked that door, one of the other intruders pulled out a Ruger and held it with both hands down at belt level. Acting in a well-rehearsed teamwork, the other tall one reached over, found the door unlocked and turned the knob.
Down off the roof plunged a newcomer to crash into the three gunmen and send them all to the gravel with bruising impact. One man had the breath driven entirely out of his lung by a knee landing in his abdomen. The other two were getting back up on their feet, both clawing at their own guns stuck in their belts. Sheng had shifted to invulnerability for the dive off the roof. He slammed a literally rock-hard fist across one thug's jaw and immediately whirled to drive his foot up to the ankle into the final goon's belly. That one dropped his hands and knees, dry heaving.
All this took only a few seconds and made little noise. Sheng glanced up and down the motel and no faces at the windows, which were all dark. He redirected the channeling of gralic force to give him increased strength, opened the door to his room and casually tossed the three men inside one at a time. They landed in a loose pile, which did not help their disorientation.
Closing and locking the door, he flung them face up in a row on the carpet.
The man who had been punched across the face was groaning. Sheng examined him and said with a notable lack of sympathy, "Don't try to talk. Your jaw's dislocated. Hold still and behave or I'll slap it the other way."
Swinging toward the other two, Sheng froze in uncharacteristic shock. The fat man's raincoat had fallen open to reveal a bare torso covered in rubbery grey skin. Under the brim of the slouch hat, an inhuman face glared at him with murderous rage.
"Whoa..." Sheng got out as he instinctively shifted his gralic charge into resilience. Quick as cobras, four tentacles shot up from inside the white raincoat to seize Sheng by the wrists and ankles, pulling them out straight and lifting him up off the floor.
Squid Vicious lurched up to his feet, making a hissing noise as his hat fell off. His grotesque conical head was entirely hairless and had no external ears. Two huge black eyes stared without blinking. The lipless mouth was crowded with sharp triangular fangs.
He raised Sheng up higher toward the ceiling.
The one thug who had regained his breath up stood next to the creature. "You got him, boss! It worked swell."
"Yes," hissed the monster. "Sheng Mo-Yuan of Chujir! A Tel Shai knight. A member of the Kenneth Dred Foundation. But I will not eat him yet."
"Yet!?" demanded Sheng. "What does THAT mean?" He was finding himself in a dilemma. Being near invulnerable meant the suckers on the tentacles weren't breaking his skin and that he wasn't being torn apart. But his normal Human level strength couldn't resist the python-like power in those long rubbery limbs.
Squid Vicious evidently could no longer turn his head on that squat neck, so he barked to his goon, "Red! See how Yak is doing."
A few seconds later, the thug made a thoughtful noise. "Umm, boss? His jaw is loose. It's hanging down. I'm afraid to touch it but aside from that he's okay."
"Arrr. All right, Dr Odell will fix that. First, we need to subdue this fool."
During the second that Squid Vicious was listening to his henchman, the tentacles stopped exerting their pull. Sheng shifted to increased strength and tried to break free but had no leverage, no way to grip the tentacles. He wriggled furiously but only made the monster turn his full attention back to him. Sheng's arms and legs were yanked out to their full extent so he hung spread-eagled in the air with his feet not reaching the floor.
"Well, that didn't work as well as I'd hoped," Sheng admitted.
Vicious snorted. "You've got good nerves, I'll give you credit for that." He brought Sheng closer until their faces were almost touching. In the hollow of the monster's throat, a fleshy hollow tube raised itself. Sheng stared in distaste and unexpectedly caught a spurt of thick black liquid that stuck to his face.
When Squid Vicious flung him down and released him, Sheng pawed feebly at his face with both hands before collapsing. The monster knelt and peeled off some of the goo that was hardening over his victim's nose and mouth. Although he took deep shuddering breaths, Sheng showed no signs of consciousness.
Red had helped the injured Yak up into a chair. "That guy's still alive, boss? Usually your ink lays 'em out in the daisies."
"He has that mysterious healing factor Tel Shai knights enjoy," Vicious said, gazing down where Sheng twitched on the carpet. "They can be killed but it takes some effort. Put Yak in the passenger seat. I'll haul this fool myslf." A short rasping sound was evidently a laugh. "He's worth millions. Millions! Capturing this one Asian guy will make us more than robbing Fort Knox would!"
VI.
It was by no means the first time that Sheng had forced his way up to consciousness, but the struggle never got easier. He felt cold and wet. All over. Was he naked? Yes. Lying on a hard surface. He sorted his sensations out. His wrists were tied behind him, his ankles were bound together, too. He was lying on his left side and it stung when he inhaled.
"You might as well sit up," came that familiar hoarse voice.
Seeing no reason to play for time, Sheng did just that. He had to blink hard to clear his eyes. He was in an empty two-car garage with a concrete floor and cinder block wall The sliding door was closed. Overhead fluorescent lights were too bright for comfort.
Just beyond reach, Squid Vicious stood fully revealed. He looked less Human than ever. The thick grey skin covered his entire body and he had thrown aside the concealing garments. Any genitals were retracted or vestigial. The toes were growing together into a solid pad. Pulled into coils at his sides under his Human arms, the tentacles were round protrusions. On either side of the squat neck, two thinner tentacles extended forward, waving, apparently sniffing the air.
"I'm so glad my ink didn't kill you," the monster said amiably. "I have done my research on all you Tel Shai knights. It's a mistake not to know all about your enemies. You, Argent, Sheng Mo-Yuan, have an interesting gift. You can become stronger than normal or faster or harder to harm... but you can only call on one attribute at a time."
When he got no comment, the creature went on, "That's why I tied you with multiple fishing lines. You can become strong enough to snap them but they'll cut you to the bone. And if you become invulnerable, you're not able to break them. So you're not going anywhere."
"What's going to happen when you can't talk any more? You realize squid and octopuses have a very short lifespan, right?"
"Heh. Worry about yourself. Right now, I deciding how to get the most money from you. There are plenty of Midnight War denizens who would pay a lot to have a Tel Shai knight delivered to them. The Darthim? The Snake men? Maybe the Spinner of Webs? I could play their bids off each other. And of course your own KDF would cough up an impressive amount to get you back."
Sheng snorted. "And you'd have them out for your blood. The Dire Wolf. A Blind Archer, a Gelydra warrior, Galvan and Sulak AND Valera, and then there's the host of a Red Spectre."
"As if I'm afraid of any or all of them," said the creature. The huge emotionless were all black with no whites showing. "The oceans are vast beyond searching. And I intend to pick them off one by one."
"Oh brother. Good luck with that."
Squid Vicious leaned closer, the two tendrils from his shoulders waving gently. "Or I could get information from you that's worth a fortune. The secret lore of Tel Shai. Forbidden knowledge from the Darthan Age. Why, what you know about mundane crimelords alone is priceless. And don't claim torture won't work on you. When the pain starts, everyone talks."
"None of this going to do you any good," said Sheng, "when you're just another cephalopod swimming around eating fish and not remembering anything of this life."
"That's not going to happen!" yelled the monster. "The change is slowing. I'm going to be all right!"
Sheng laughed outright. "If you believed that, you wouldn't be yelling."
"Red! Charlie! Get in here."
When the goons entered through a side door, Sheng asked cheerfully, "How's your buddy's jaw?" but only received baleful stares.
"Watch him while I make a few phone calls. I think I can sell samples of his blood, lots of people would like to have it analyzed. Beat him if you have to but keep him alive."
Vicious stomped angrily through the door and slammed it behind him.
Sitting on the cold concrete, leaning back against the wall, Sheng said, "You guys have seen he's continuing to mutate, right?"
"Worry about yourself," said Red, lighting a cigarette.
"He's becoming less Human every day. I'm dead sure he's been eating those missing people. And he doesn't leave much that you have to dispose of, either."
"You need to shut up for your own good," warned the one called Charlie. He was distinguished by blue flame tattoos on his neck.
"Squidlings, huh? That's cute. How long do you think you guys are going to be safe with him?" Sheng's voice had a quiet confidence in it that was unsettling. "I think you better stick together in pairs to stay alive."
Red flicked his cigarette to the floor and held up a gnarled fist. "Time to soften you up. There's some tools over there in the bench."
"Getting worried? I don't blame you. What's happening to the man with the dislocated jaw? Your boss isn't going to take him to any ER, you know."
With a disgusted rumble in his chest, Red went to rummage about in the drawers of the bench and came up with a pair of tin snips. "Here. We can have some fun with these."
But Charlie held up a hand. "Wait a minute. You know, the boss said he was gonna call a crime doctor to take care of Yak. But it's been an hour and he hasn't done it. I dunno. I'm gonna go ask him."
"I'd be careful if I were you," Red warned. "He's been touchy lately."
"It's going to get worse," said Sheng. "He's a ticking time bomb."
"You said enough already." Red pointed the tin snips at him.
Sheng had spotted the pile of his clothes in a corner of the garage. He had not brought the anesthetic dart gun with him, but some of the miniature KDF gadgets were concealed in slits and hidden pockets and they could be useful. If he had some time with Red alone, Sheng also thought there was a chance of getting those snips away from him. Even with ankles tied together, Sheng figured he could trip the man and kick him...
Out loud, he asked, "What's with that 'Squidlings Rule' nonsense anyway? I thought you were a teenage street gang."
"What part of 'shut up' don't you understand...?" began Red, but he was interrupted as Charlie rushed back in, closing and locking the door behind him. The older thug was breathing hard.
"Gimme those," he blurted, grabbing the tin snips and rolling Sheng over to cut through the fishing line around his wrists. In another second, he was freeing their prisoner's ankles.
Red was slow to react to his partner's actions. "What is wrong with you? What the hell are you doing?"
"I saw the boss. Behind this house. He had Yak on the ground and he was... ripping him open. It was awful. I don't think he saw me but..."
The door behind him rattled and thumped, then crashed off its hinges entirely. Charging in came Squid Vicious, hideous with fresh red blood all over his face and chest.
VII.
Within the next half second, both Red and Charlie were scrabbling for the guns they had jammed into their belts but even a quick draw artist could not have gotten off an accurate shot before those tentacles whipped around them. Red was seized by the head, which the tentacle twisted completely around with a cracking noise. Charlie was hauled up into the air as another rubbery length tightened around him to cut off his air and break his wind cage. The dying man was thrown aside to bounce off the far wall.
The monster whirled toward their naked prisoner. Sheng had been planning how to deal with this creature. Shifting to increased speed, he lunged in close to seize those two thin questing tendrils on Vicious' shoulders and yank them out bodily. Black goo spurted up from the wounds.
A thrashing tentacle glanced off Sheng hard as a whip cracking, flinging him down stunned to the floor. Squid Vicious howled in pain and stomped out the door to the outside. It took Sheng a few seconds to recover and get to his feet. He raced outside and saw a rocky beach leading down to where the Pacific lapped up gently. A few spatters of that inhuman blood marked a trail to the water.
Suddenly realizing he was standing on the beach completely naked, Sheng glanced around. The nearest beach house was fifty yards away and no one was in sight. There was no hope of chasing Squid Vicious now, of course. Maybe Demrak Jin would have had a chance if she had been there. He sprinted back into the garage where he had been held.
Both Red and Charlie were obviously dead. One had his head facing so it looked down his own back, the other had his torso flattened. Sheng suddenly felt exhausted. He started pulling on his clothes as if his arms and legs weighed a ton each. There was his Link on the floor, undamaged.
He had no choice but to call Department 21 Black. That special FBI unit would send out a team to clear this house, take away the bodies and all evidence as if nothing unusual had happened. He hated dealing with them, they always asked for favors in return, but it was unavoidable in this case. Sheng had made his presence known in the area by telling dozens of people he was looking for the Squidlings.
Tapping the Link before calling, Sheng found a plain wooden chair by the bench and fell down rather than sat down on it. He realized that now he would have to stay another few days in this town, pretending to look for the gang, so that their sudden disappearance
wouldn't be connected to him. Using himself as bait had worked but that trick had its drawbacks.
Sheng's spirits sank. Almost anyone else would have been relieved to escape the attack of that monster and to have ended the rampage of a brutal gang, but he was disappointed in himself.
10/4/2024
6/2024
I.
At three in the morning, the CORBY dropped silently out of an overcast sky. With no visible lights and making no more sound than a breeze, the black stealthcopter might not have even been noticed by anyone driving on this stretch of Northern California highway. The rotors slowed as the craft settled to the hardpacked sand.
In the pilot seat, Ashley Whitaker turned her head toward her teammate. The platinum hair shone in the subdued pastel greens and blues of all the dials and gauges. "You sure you have everything? You brought your field suit just in case?"
Sheng Mo-Yuan unbuckled his restraint straps and reached through the opening in the divider between the cockpit and the section behind them. He tugged out two matching suitcases and managed to place them in the tight space by his feet. "Sure, I'm all set."
"And you'll call your Uncle Pao at breakfast time?"
"And be ready for an hour lecture about how I didn't leave the playlist exactly the way he likes it so he can watch movies on my laptop all day."
"Sure," said the little blonde, twisting the combined collective/cyclic stick by her hand. "Wave when you're far enough away from the rotors so I can lift up without lopping your fool head off."
Sheng opened the hatch to his left with a hiss as pressurized air escaped. "Oh come on, Unicorn. When did you start being such a worry bug?"
"Our team is going to Androval for at least a few days," she said. "We won't even have anyone answering the phone."
"I'm used to working alone." As he hopped out, he called back before the hatch sealed again, "But your concern is appreciated. You be careful, too."
When he was fifty feet away, Sheng waved both arms in the all clear signal. Faster and smoother than any normal helicopter, the CORBY shot straight up and was gone from sight in a second. Sheng honestly could not tell in which direction it had gone. He picked up both suitcases and started a brisk walk alongside the highway, facing any oncoming traffic.
The motel he was heading for was a mile and a half away. Sheng could have used his Argent power to channel gralic force into his body for enhanced speed, but there was no need for that. Moving at his normal rate was fine. It was a crisp, almost chilly night and he enjoyed the walk. Tomorrow, he had to lease a car and investigate what his captain Sable had found were strange things afoot in this area.
There were an increasing number of missing persons and, significantly, they were people the police would not be noticeably energetic about looking for. The homeless, drug dealers, drifters with no families. There were odd break-ins for the theft of items that were not particularly valuable. And there had been so much senseless vandalism. Breaking windows of cars but not stealing anything from them, splashing red paint on houses, snapping mailboxes in half. None of it made much sense, which in itself was alarming. So Sheng had been assigned to investigate.
He heard a deep rumble behind him and moved well off the highway as a huge eighteen wheeler roared past on the opposite side of the highway. Sheng moved back and started walking again, going over the reports again in his head and wondering if some of the crimes were unrelated. Headlights were coming toward him. He moved a bit to one side before realizing that the oncoming car was accelerating sharply. In the split-second he had, Sheng drew on gralic force to increase his body's resilience just before he was struck by a car going ninety miles an hour and thrown high into the air.
II.
Even at his maximum density, Sheng was not literally invulnerable, just very durable and resistant to harm. He spun in a wild loop at head height and crashed with a thump to the dirt out of sight of the highway, skidding on his back until friction brought him to a halt. The breath was knocked entirely out of his lungs and he saw nothing but blinking flashes of light. It took a few interminable minutes before his enhanced healing kicked in and he felt relatively normal.
Cursing didn't make the aches and soreness go away but it did not express his feelings about the experience. He got to his feet, stretching and groaning but finding he had not been seriously hurt. What had that been all about? Had any of the KDF's enemies overheard the report from the observers about the weird crime wave? But no, Sable had only given Sheng this assignment an hour earlier and no one could have known he was coming here. Certainly, even their most organized and resourceful enemies couldn't have cars cruising every road looking for a KDF member.
Maybe just a drunk driver? Or maybe part of the senseless violence afflicting this area?
One suitcase was still clenched in his hand, and Sheng sighed as he resigned himself to searching for the other one. Then he realized his suit jacket's back was shredded where he had skidded along the rocky ground. Now he was genuinely angry. Sheng was fussy about his wardrobe. He had his suits tailored for him and spent a substantial amount for quality material. At only five feet five inches tall, he felt dressing well gave him an edge when dealing with Americans half a foot taller. This medium brown suit with its matching vest and tan shirt had been one of his favorite outfits.
As he began trudging resentfully back toward the highway, looking for his other suitcase, Sheng suddenly grinned at himself. Someone had tried to murder him, he had been flung for yards through the air and had only survived because of his gralic powers. And his reaction had been rage at having his jacket ruined....
Right by the side of Route 117 was his suitcase, not visibly damaged. Sheng shrugged out of his ruined jacket and tied it to the handle of his suitcase. He resumed his trek down the highway and soon saw the lights of the HAV-A-REST MOTEL with the blue cursive VACANCY sign lit. He had picked this motel because its ad in a local paper said its front desk was open twenty-four hours. There were five cars parked in front of the long row of doors. Sheng found a surprisingly young woman working the front desk at nearly four in the morning, evidently a college student.
After Sheng registered and received his key, the girl tried to hold him in conversation. Maybe she was just bored and wanted to chat, but then Sheng wore expensive clothes and was obviously very fit. No wedding ring. Most people thought he was Northern Chinese, despite the eagle-beaked nose. Remarking how tired he was, Sheng excused himself. His room was at the far end of the building, next to a pair of vending machines.
Here was a chance to indulge in some junk food without a lengthy lecture from Uncle Pao! He had a few singles on him. Sheng bought a chocolate bar, a small bag of potato chips and a can of root beer. If only he could stay awake long enough to wolf everything down. Sheng moved toward his room's door and froze into place. Suddenly he was not sleepy in the least. He felt cold. Spray-painted on the side of a vending machine were the words SQUIDLINGS RULE, OKAY?
III.
Sheng broke all his cautionary rules for the next hour. He did not check the motel room out, he did not place the hard rubber wedges to secure the door and window, he didn't even turn a light on. He stretched out on the queen-sized bed, stared up into darkness and remembered everything he knew about Squid Vicious.
The two of them had never met, but he had read the case files. His teammates in the KDF had fought Vicious twice and the last time they had taken him prisoner. Frank Mills had examined him at a Trom facility in New Mexico for three months, then had agreed to turn him over to a cephalopod specialist, which had been a mistake. Vicious had become lethargic and unresponsive, which had been an act so he could kill the biologist and escape. The monster had gone on the run and had not been recaptured. The Mandate and the FBI's Department 21 Black had searched for him as well as the KDF but since Vicious was perfectly at home in the ocean, the odds of finding him were low.
Sheng got up and secured the door and window, then belatedly checked the bathroom. What was wrong with him? Twenty years surviving the Midnight War should have made that so automatic he would have done all this while sleepwalking. He kicked off his dress shoes and remembered the snacks. A long tug on the root beer produced a satisfying belch. Squid Vicious shouldn't worry him. He had tackled much scarier opponents. The squidman should be apprehensive about tangling with Sheng Mo-Yuan!
He knew that a minor member of a New Jersey mob had been cursed by a Dartha to take on attributes of a squid. Frank Pugliese's nickname in the badlands had been Squid because of an unreasonable love of calamari and because he claimed he had tentacles in ten different rackets. Pugliese's transformation was an ongoing process. When captured, he had gills to breath underwater, smooth grey skin thick as rubber, and sharp pointed teeth. Two thick tentacles grew from under his right arm and two more from his left side. These had hooked suckers on their inner surface and could extend to a length of twelve feet or instead retract into compact coils.
According to the biologist who had been studying him, Vicious had continued to mutate. A siphon had grown from his windpipe out the front of his throat. Two additional, thinner tentacles were developing from his shoulders. And his teeth had started fusing together in what seemed to be the beginning of a beak. Sheng didn't know what to think, would Pugliese eventually turn entirely into a literal squid? Darthan magic was incredibly potent.
At this time of year, dawn came around five in the morning and light was showing through the curtains in the room's only window. Sheng felt he should grab a few hours sleep before starting on the manhunt. Squid Vicious had assembled three different gangs of thugs and it seemed certain that these Squidlings were another such gang. There was going to be a lot of work ahead.
Sheng dropped off instantly into a deep dreamless sleep that seemed to last only for seconds before a loud beeping startled him so much that he fell off the bed completely.
IV.
Entirely by reflex, Sheng leaped up into a ready stance with his open left hand extended and his right fist up by his ear Then he realized it was his Link beeping. With an embarrassed grin, he unclipped it from his belt and took the call. "Hello?"
"What kind of a nephew are you?" came an indignant voice. "Where is the fish head?"
"Oh. Good morning, Uncle."
"You didn't throw it out, I hope."
"Uncle, it had collapsed into black goo. I didn't want you getting food poisoning. There's fresh chicken slices and a whole bag of snow peas in the mini-fridge. Any calls for me?"
"Yes, a dozen beautiful young women, one after the other, wanting to hire you." Uncle Pao added with glee, "I told them you were too busy and sent them to your crazy friend the Dire Wolf."
'You are an excellent office manager." Now in his early eighties, Uncle Pao had given up his apartment by Washington Square and moved into Sheng's office without mentioning it. Sheng actually liked this. The office had a bathroom with a shower, a comfortable couch and the deli next door delivered. He hadn't been happy about the old man taking the subway at night. "I'm sure Jeremy will appreciate some visitors."
"One more thing! The Feng Shui is all wrong. Good luck flows out the door and there is no place for ghosts to sit. We should turn your desk around. It must face the fan-shaped window!"
"Wait, so then I'd be sitting with my back to the door when clients come in...?"
"It is a small sacrifice for harmonious arrangement," Pao said solemnly.
Sheng tapped the side of his Link. The Trom device played something he had recorded not long ago. The sound of someone knocking on a door rang out clearly and repeated itself a few seconds later. "Just a second!" he called, then told Pao, "I have to go, Uncle," and broke the connection. This made him slightly uncomfortable. He loved the old man, even though they were not actually related. Sheng came from the adjacent realm of Chujir and had no family in this world. But he and Pao had formed a bond better than many actual blood kin enjoyed. He would call back later and chat for a while.
Glancing over at a round clock on the wall, he was surprised to see it was almost noon. He had gotten more sleep than he had thought. Time to get busy. Clicking open his pigskin suitcase, Sheng took out the shampoo and soap he preferred, as well as his electric razor. He stripped off his clothing and stood revealed as a remarkably toned athletic man. Like most knights of Tel Shai, Sheng did not have bodybuilder muscles but looked like a runner with startling definition. He went into the bathroom for a steaming hot shower and shave.
Toweled dry, Sheng got into fresh socks, underwear and T-shirt before putting on the other suit he had packed. This was Navy blue with faint chalk pinstripes, a powder blue dress shirt and a thin black tie. He was still vexed about having his brown jacket ruined but realized there were more important things to think about. Lunch sounded like a good idea but that would have to wait.
Using his Link, he called for a taxi and was told it would be about fifteen minutes. Sheng tried calling KDF headquarters, found that no one was there and left a brief mesage about the Squidlings and their boss. He wasn't much of a team player anyway, if he was being honest. Years of working by himself for his Fist For Hire agency had increased his natural self-reliance. He went outside and leaned against the wall of the motel. While waiting for the taxi, he started looking up facts about actual squid and became engrossed in learning about those remarkable mollusks.
Across the highway from a Rent A Car place was the Olympia Diner, and Sheng asked to be dropped off there. A substantial lunch of Lasagne alla Bolognese with sliced melons for desert and iced tea left him feeling more fortified. Then he ran across the road, rented a black Nissan Rogue using his KDF expense account card and eased out into traffic feeling eager to get started on this case.
Before leaving Manhattan, Sheng had studied maps of this area. He had saved some useful addresses and numbers on his Link, this was standard prep. His first stop was a weathered one-story brick building that housed the offices of local newspaper COAST RECORD. Sheng carried a number of impressive documents showing he was not only a licensed Private Investigator, he was endorsed by the Mandate from the DOJ and the FBI's Department 21 Black.
The managing editor was unavailable at the moment, but the senior of the five reporters happily agreed to give Sheng a few minutes. This turned into a full half hour of seemingly unrelated incidents gone over in great detail. Kevin Elting was an intense old fellow who got more agitated the longer he spoke. All the incidents seemed to have started back in February and had been picking up steam over the months.
First, nine people were known to have vanished. Four had been homeless, three had been drug dealers. The other two had been ordinary workers at the cement plant on Hickory Road. Also, five men had been savagely beaten late at night after leaving bars. All had required hospital stays, but strangely none had been robbed. One had even been getting in his new Mazda but neither the car nor anything in it had been touched.
Possibly related were numerous reports of a silver Infiniti running pedestrians off the road, sideswiping other cars and causing one bicyclist to take a tumble down a hill, although he had not been injured. Hearing this, Sheng raised one eyebrow but said nothing about his own experience the night before.
Less violent was a surge of late night robberies of closed stores. Cash was taken, as well as prescription drugs and electronics but also stolen were items of no particular value like cheap lawn ornaments, plastic cups and a case of paper clips. Burglar alarms and cameras had been smashed, even those in seemingly inaccessible locations.
Finally, there was all the pointless vandalism. Tires slashed on cars, streetlights shot out, buckets of bleach poured over trees.
Seeing a pause in the reporter's tirade, Sheng mentioned the words he had seen painted on the vending machine.
Elting slapped his palm on his desk so hard that everyone nearby jumped and a few peered out of their cubicle to make sure nothing was wrong. "That's the clincher! People say it's some new teen gang but I've asked twenty or thirty parents and they've never heard their kids mention any Squidlings! What the hell? What does it mean?"
"You've given me a lot to look into," Sheng said, rising. He raised his voice slightly, "I'll be staying at the Hav-A-Rest down on Route 211 the next few days. Room 9. I can be reached there." He saw several of the staff nod to acknowledge this and he left the building.
Next was the very new Town Hall on the outskirts of town. Sheng found that this was actually a group of connected buildings including the Water Department, DMV and the Police Department which was his goal. His credentials only got him ten minutes with a grumpy Sgt Louis J Bruno. Sheng said he had been hired to investigate the ongoing incidents in the area and Bruno responded with an annoyed lecture about how everything had been exaggerated. The vandalism and missing persons and petty thefts were completely unrelated.
Sheng asked about the Squidlings graffiti and got yelled at about giving attention to some sort of juvenile pranks. Feeling that he was about to get thrown out bodily, Sheng rose and thanked the sergeant, mentioning where he would be the next few days.
The rest of the day was spent stopping at various stores and bars around town. Sheng made purchases in the stores and said he was curious about the Squidlings, then added where he could be found. He did the same in the bars, having a few drinks which no longer affected him since his enhanced healing from the Tagra tea regimen let his body pass alcohol without interaction. He didn't care if these people thought he was weird, the objective was to broadcast his whereabouts.
At seven o'clock, which would be four in the afternoon back in New York, he parked outside the diner and called Uncle Pao for a long chat. He was informed that a minor crook had stopped by with a shady deal. Pao's description of the man and imitation of a Tennessee accent had Sheng shaking with silent laughter. They talked about minor matters, Pao said he was going to mop the office floor and dust everything to stay awake and they said goodbye. Sheng went into the diner for a roast turkey dinner, thinking over the day and hoping he had set out enough bait. He was back at the motel just as it was getting dark.
V.
At two-thirty in the morning, an unreasonably elevated SUV rolled up to the Hav-A-Rest with only its parking lights on. In the window of Room 9, the flickering blue light of a TV showed through the curtains. Three men in dark clothes got out of the vehicle and stepped silently up to the motel. Two were both tall and broad, intimidating by size alone, but the third one was odd. Average in height but round in the torso, he was draped in a loose white raincoat even on this warm night. A wide-brimmed hat was pulled low to hide his face, As this one flanked that door, one of the other intruders pulled out a Ruger and held it with both hands down at belt level. Acting in a well-rehearsed teamwork, the other tall one reached over, found the door unlocked and turned the knob.
Down off the roof plunged a newcomer to crash into the three gunmen and send them all to the gravel with bruising impact. One man had the breath driven entirely out of his lung by a knee landing in his abdomen. The other two were getting back up on their feet, both clawing at their own guns stuck in their belts. Sheng had shifted to invulnerability for the dive off the roof. He slammed a literally rock-hard fist across one thug's jaw and immediately whirled to drive his foot up to the ankle into the final goon's belly. That one dropped his hands and knees, dry heaving.
All this took only a few seconds and made little noise. Sheng glanced up and down the motel and no faces at the windows, which were all dark. He redirected the channeling of gralic force to give him increased strength, opened the door to his room and casually tossed the three men inside one at a time. They landed in a loose pile, which did not help their disorientation.
Closing and locking the door, he flung them face up in a row on the carpet.
The man who had been punched across the face was groaning. Sheng examined him and said with a notable lack of sympathy, "Don't try to talk. Your jaw's dislocated. Hold still and behave or I'll slap it the other way."
Swinging toward the other two, Sheng froze in uncharacteristic shock. The fat man's raincoat had fallen open to reveal a bare torso covered in rubbery grey skin. Under the brim of the slouch hat, an inhuman face glared at him with murderous rage.
"Whoa..." Sheng got out as he instinctively shifted his gralic charge into resilience. Quick as cobras, four tentacles shot up from inside the white raincoat to seize Sheng by the wrists and ankles, pulling them out straight and lifting him up off the floor.
Squid Vicious lurched up to his feet, making a hissing noise as his hat fell off. His grotesque conical head was entirely hairless and had no external ears. Two huge black eyes stared without blinking. The lipless mouth was crowded with sharp triangular fangs.
He raised Sheng up higher toward the ceiling.
The one thug who had regained his breath up stood next to the creature. "You got him, boss! It worked swell."
"Yes," hissed the monster. "Sheng Mo-Yuan of Chujir! A Tel Shai knight. A member of the Kenneth Dred Foundation. But I will not eat him yet."
"Yet!?" demanded Sheng. "What does THAT mean?" He was finding himself in a dilemma. Being near invulnerable meant the suckers on the tentacles weren't breaking his skin and that he wasn't being torn apart. But his normal Human level strength couldn't resist the python-like power in those long rubbery limbs.
Squid Vicious evidently could no longer turn his head on that squat neck, so he barked to his goon, "Red! See how Yak is doing."
A few seconds later, the thug made a thoughtful noise. "Umm, boss? His jaw is loose. It's hanging down. I'm afraid to touch it but aside from that he's okay."
"Arrr. All right, Dr Odell will fix that. First, we need to subdue this fool."
During the second that Squid Vicious was listening to his henchman, the tentacles stopped exerting their pull. Sheng shifted to increased strength and tried to break free but had no leverage, no way to grip the tentacles. He wriggled furiously but only made the monster turn his full attention back to him. Sheng's arms and legs were yanked out to their full extent so he hung spread-eagled in the air with his feet not reaching the floor.
"Well, that didn't work as well as I'd hoped," Sheng admitted.
Vicious snorted. "You've got good nerves, I'll give you credit for that." He brought Sheng closer until their faces were almost touching. In the hollow of the monster's throat, a fleshy hollow tube raised itself. Sheng stared in distaste and unexpectedly caught a spurt of thick black liquid that stuck to his face.
When Squid Vicious flung him down and released him, Sheng pawed feebly at his face with both hands before collapsing. The monster knelt and peeled off some of the goo that was hardening over his victim's nose and mouth. Although he took deep shuddering breaths, Sheng showed no signs of consciousness.
Red had helped the injured Yak up into a chair. "That guy's still alive, boss? Usually your ink lays 'em out in the daisies."
"He has that mysterious healing factor Tel Shai knights enjoy," Vicious said, gazing down where Sheng twitched on the carpet. "They can be killed but it takes some effort. Put Yak in the passenger seat. I'll haul this fool myslf." A short rasping sound was evidently a laugh. "He's worth millions. Millions! Capturing this one Asian guy will make us more than robbing Fort Knox would!"
VI.
It was by no means the first time that Sheng had forced his way up to consciousness, but the struggle never got easier. He felt cold and wet. All over. Was he naked? Yes. Lying on a hard surface. He sorted his sensations out. His wrists were tied behind him, his ankles were bound together, too. He was lying on his left side and it stung when he inhaled.
"You might as well sit up," came that familiar hoarse voice.
Seeing no reason to play for time, Sheng did just that. He had to blink hard to clear his eyes. He was in an empty two-car garage with a concrete floor and cinder block wall The sliding door was closed. Overhead fluorescent lights were too bright for comfort.
Just beyond reach, Squid Vicious stood fully revealed. He looked less Human than ever. The thick grey skin covered his entire body and he had thrown aside the concealing garments. Any genitals were retracted or vestigial. The toes were growing together into a solid pad. Pulled into coils at his sides under his Human arms, the tentacles were round protrusions. On either side of the squat neck, two thinner tentacles extended forward, waving, apparently sniffing the air.
"I'm so glad my ink didn't kill you," the monster said amiably. "I have done my research on all you Tel Shai knights. It's a mistake not to know all about your enemies. You, Argent, Sheng Mo-Yuan, have an interesting gift. You can become stronger than normal or faster or harder to harm... but you can only call on one attribute at a time."
When he got no comment, the creature went on, "That's why I tied you with multiple fishing lines. You can become strong enough to snap them but they'll cut you to the bone. And if you become invulnerable, you're not able to break them. So you're not going anywhere."
"What's going to happen when you can't talk any more? You realize squid and octopuses have a very short lifespan, right?"
"Heh. Worry about yourself. Right now, I deciding how to get the most money from you. There are plenty of Midnight War denizens who would pay a lot to have a Tel Shai knight delivered to them. The Darthim? The Snake men? Maybe the Spinner of Webs? I could play their bids off each other. And of course your own KDF would cough up an impressive amount to get you back."
Sheng snorted. "And you'd have them out for your blood. The Dire Wolf. A Blind Archer, a Gelydra warrior, Galvan and Sulak AND Valera, and then there's the host of a Red Spectre."
"As if I'm afraid of any or all of them," said the creature. The huge emotionless were all black with no whites showing. "The oceans are vast beyond searching. And I intend to pick them off one by one."
"Oh brother. Good luck with that."
Squid Vicious leaned closer, the two tendrils from his shoulders waving gently. "Or I could get information from you that's worth a fortune. The secret lore of Tel Shai. Forbidden knowledge from the Darthan Age. Why, what you know about mundane crimelords alone is priceless. And don't claim torture won't work on you. When the pain starts, everyone talks."
"None of this going to do you any good," said Sheng, "when you're just another cephalopod swimming around eating fish and not remembering anything of this life."
"That's not going to happen!" yelled the monster. "The change is slowing. I'm going to be all right!"
Sheng laughed outright. "If you believed that, you wouldn't be yelling."
"Red! Charlie! Get in here."
When the goons entered through a side door, Sheng asked cheerfully, "How's your buddy's jaw?" but only received baleful stares.
"Watch him while I make a few phone calls. I think I can sell samples of his blood, lots of people would like to have it analyzed. Beat him if you have to but keep him alive."
Vicious stomped angrily through the door and slammed it behind him.
Sitting on the cold concrete, leaning back against the wall, Sheng said, "You guys have seen he's continuing to mutate, right?"
"Worry about yourself," said Red, lighting a cigarette.
"He's becoming less Human every day. I'm dead sure he's been eating those missing people. And he doesn't leave much that you have to dispose of, either."
"You need to shut up for your own good," warned the one called Charlie. He was distinguished by blue flame tattoos on his neck.
"Squidlings, huh? That's cute. How long do you think you guys are going to be safe with him?" Sheng's voice had a quiet confidence in it that was unsettling. "I think you better stick together in pairs to stay alive."
Red flicked his cigarette to the floor and held up a gnarled fist. "Time to soften you up. There's some tools over there in the bench."
"Getting worried? I don't blame you. What's happening to the man with the dislocated jaw? Your boss isn't going to take him to any ER, you know."
With a disgusted rumble in his chest, Red went to rummage about in the drawers of the bench and came up with a pair of tin snips. "Here. We can have some fun with these."
But Charlie held up a hand. "Wait a minute. You know, the boss said he was gonna call a crime doctor to take care of Yak. But it's been an hour and he hasn't done it. I dunno. I'm gonna go ask him."
"I'd be careful if I were you," Red warned. "He's been touchy lately."
"It's going to get worse," said Sheng. "He's a ticking time bomb."
"You said enough already." Red pointed the tin snips at him.
Sheng had spotted the pile of his clothes in a corner of the garage. He had not brought the anesthetic dart gun with him, but some of the miniature KDF gadgets were concealed in slits and hidden pockets and they could be useful. If he had some time with Red alone, Sheng also thought there was a chance of getting those snips away from him. Even with ankles tied together, Sheng figured he could trip the man and kick him...
Out loud, he asked, "What's with that 'Squidlings Rule' nonsense anyway? I thought you were a teenage street gang."
"What part of 'shut up' don't you understand...?" began Red, but he was interrupted as Charlie rushed back in, closing and locking the door behind him. The older thug was breathing hard.
"Gimme those," he blurted, grabbing the tin snips and rolling Sheng over to cut through the fishing line around his wrists. In another second, he was freeing their prisoner's ankles.
Red was slow to react to his partner's actions. "What is wrong with you? What the hell are you doing?"
"I saw the boss. Behind this house. He had Yak on the ground and he was... ripping him open. It was awful. I don't think he saw me but..."
The door behind him rattled and thumped, then crashed off its hinges entirely. Charging in came Squid Vicious, hideous with fresh red blood all over his face and chest.
VII.
Within the next half second, both Red and Charlie were scrabbling for the guns they had jammed into their belts but even a quick draw artist could not have gotten off an accurate shot before those tentacles whipped around them. Red was seized by the head, which the tentacle twisted completely around with a cracking noise. Charlie was hauled up into the air as another rubbery length tightened around him to cut off his air and break his wind cage. The dying man was thrown aside to bounce off the far wall.
The monster whirled toward their naked prisoner. Sheng had been planning how to deal with this creature. Shifting to increased speed, he lunged in close to seize those two thin questing tendrils on Vicious' shoulders and yank them out bodily. Black goo spurted up from the wounds.
A thrashing tentacle glanced off Sheng hard as a whip cracking, flinging him down stunned to the floor. Squid Vicious howled in pain and stomped out the door to the outside. It took Sheng a few seconds to recover and get to his feet. He raced outside and saw a rocky beach leading down to where the Pacific lapped up gently. A few spatters of that inhuman blood marked a trail to the water.
Suddenly realizing he was standing on the beach completely naked, Sheng glanced around. The nearest beach house was fifty yards away and no one was in sight. There was no hope of chasing Squid Vicious now, of course. Maybe Demrak Jin would have had a chance if she had been there. He sprinted back into the garage where he had been held.
Both Red and Charlie were obviously dead. One had his head facing so it looked down his own back, the other had his torso flattened. Sheng suddenly felt exhausted. He started pulling on his clothes as if his arms and legs weighed a ton each. There was his Link on the floor, undamaged.
He had no choice but to call Department 21 Black. That special FBI unit would send out a team to clear this house, take away the bodies and all evidence as if nothing unusual had happened. He hated dealing with them, they always asked for favors in return, but it was unavoidable in this case. Sheng had made his presence known in the area by telling dozens of people he was looking for the Squidlings.
Tapping the Link before calling, Sheng found a plain wooden chair by the bench and fell down rather than sat down on it. He realized that now he would have to stay another few days in this town, pretending to look for the gang, so that their sudden disappearance
wouldn't be connected to him. Using himself as bait had worked but that trick had its drawbacks.
Sheng's spirits sank. Almost anyone else would have been relieved to escape the attack of that monster and to have ended the rampage of a brutal gang, but he was disappointed in himself.
10/4/2024
