Mist of Doom

4. Fish out of Water

Volans the Flying Fish stood on all fours atop a rickety two-story building, waving his tail fin in glee as the odor of fish flakes wafted in the thick mist and into his nostrils. Hmm, hadn't he just had an argument about the mist's scent with his superiors? Corvus the Raven once told him that it smelled like carrion, while Draco the Dragon argued that it smelled like barbecued meat.

Whichever was true, their kind - the microscopic inhabitants of Planet Methuselah - had agreed that the mist was salvation. Before it existed, they needed some science-loving humans to disguise them as a drug called Seed. Now, thanks to the empowering properties of the mist, they could invade human bodies - or rather, nutritious growth media - whenever they wanted to.

The heretics disagreed with that view, though; to them, mankind was salvation. These traitors often went as far as to reanimate corpses and give them superpowers without asking for any real payment.

The fish man spat at the thought. Mankind was a growth medium, nothing else. The Methuselah folks had visited Earth in search of nutrients and a perfect habitat after all.

"Get off me!"

The scream reached Volans. Looking down, he saw a thrashing man with a giant crystalline dragonfly perching on his back.

"Shut up, human!" Spreading his four wing-like fins, Volans jumped and glided towards the commotion. "It's just my hungry pal!"

The dragonfly glowed, its lengthening limbs wrapping around the man's torso like vines around a pillar. The human's loud, repetitive "no" grew fainter and fainter as the radiance traveled up and down his body, turning him into a shimmering cocoon.

"Be a good growth medium, human." Volans whirled and flew away from the cocoon.

White wisps crept around Volans, bringing with them the savory scent of fish food. Hmm, why not take a dip to double the joy? Swimming pools probably didn't exist in the slum, but rivers were just as good.

Don't worry, Corvus. I'll be back to patrolling in an hour.

Why had he thought of Corvus? It wasn't like he would catch Volans slacking off anyway; even if the raven did, Volans wouldn't mind. Assigning him to such a boring, annoying job was a big mistake.

As if I'm just a little better than the dragonflies...

Up in the air, Volans heard shrill shrieks from beneath and gnashed his teeth in exasperation. Noisy growth media! Good thing his host - a science-loving human named Stanley Butler - had accepted him with open arms.

A massive trail of rippling brown lay beneath him. Volans swooped in, and his jaw dropped at what he saw. Surrounded by shoddy houses was a river, its water sharing the same hue as milk coffee - his host's but definitely not Volans' favorite drink. Heaps of rubbish drifted in the murky water; luckily, the mist's scent triumphed over the stench of rotten eggs from them.

Volans slammed his webbed hand against his forehead and hissed. Filthy riverside dwellers! According to the info from Stanley's brain, these humans also urinated, defecated, and washed their stuff here. Had his host worked as a doctor, he would've gotten a lot of money. But these patients couldn't possibly pay the medical fee, could they?

The fish man glided away from the river and the pitiful houses at the bank. Ain't gonna contaminate my gills. Back to the heart of the slum he went, hoping to find a better place for pampering himself.

What to find then?

The sudden flow of information from Stanley's brain suggested that Volans searched for a bathtub, since clean rivers didn't exist in the slum. Man, his host should've told him more before he started the quest for a dip!