The Permutation

Apex (Part 5) Paul

Paul left the physical world behind as he probed towards the woman in the fire. On other occasions, Paul had not been able to feel anything physical via his immaterial appendages, but this time, he would've sworn he felt the heat singing his tendrils. Even so, the time to hesitate had come and gone. Paul took control of the situation

A disembodied voice shouted "Rachel!"

It pierced through the night, but it was not enough to divert Paul's laser focus. It was taking every shred of willpower he had to keep the tendrils on course.

"Rachel stop! We will figure this out, just stop!" The voice shouted

Paul heard him this time, but he preferred not to see the woman in the fire as a human. She was just another predator.

In the past month, he had grown a taste for killing, but he took no pleasure in the events that followed, maybe a perverted sense of altruism at having done the right thing.

Paul may not be able to escape the prison of his mortality quite yet, but at least he could help this shambling woman wreathed in flames find some peace.

With a reverence, Paul eased tendrils into her brain, lungs, and mediastinum. Once in place, he twined them around her cerebral artery, pulmonary veins, and aorta. In perfect synchronicity, he severed each one gifting her a death that was both merciful and swift.

The enormous bonfire sputtered and turned from its pure white to the crimson of blood. The smell of scorched atmosphere and burnt earth became overpowering in his nostrils, and Paul felt his grip on consciousness starting to slip, but then the woman toppled to the ground with an anti-climactic thud.

The world was pitched into blackness.

Being thrust back into the darkness of the evening, Paul tried his best to regain control. He used his tendrils to try to get a picture of his general surroundings, but was overpowered by one still image. It was not only emblazoned in his retinas, but deep into the folds of his brain. A woman's face, tear-streaked eyes wide with surprise, and a lock of golden hair at her temple.

I know where I've seen her before.

A deafening sound rang through the night, and Paul felt a searing pain in his shoulder. He shrieked, not the shriek of an injured man, but that of an enraged predator. Paul Neiman was gone, and the predator had taken his place.

The predator scanned its surrounding. Something had come into its lair and had the audacity to hurt it. The humans surrounding it were breathing hurried shallow breaths, and the predator recognized and delighted in their fear. However, these ones were not its concern.

His tendrils passed over a human who heart pumped with a rhythm of rage. The human's arms were extended and held a searing metal object. This object was the source of its pain. The object kicked in the man's hand, and the predator felt a small buzzing object fly towards him. It moved sluggish in the air as if traveling through petroleum jelly.

The predator plucked the object from the air and sent it back to its master. The small projectile slammed into the man's shoulder with enough force to send him rocking backwards. For a moment, the metal object was pointed away from the predator. It's tendrils seized the opportunity and hurled the object into the night, and went back to work on the human.

Three tendrils plunged into the man's chest searching for the muscular organ pumping rage and life into the man's limbs. They constricted the organ until it was nothing more than a fleshy pulp, and then yanked it out of the man's chest, the bony cage around it splintered outwards.
The rest of the humans turned on the predator, but it had already become Paul again.

Paul surveyed the looks of fear and hate in the rest of the group and prepared himself to fend them all off even if it meant killing every last one of them.

The Asian woman was the first to make her move. She sprinted towards Paul at the speed the bullet had travelled towards him, and he gave her the same treatment he'd given the predators. He snipped tendons responsible for supporting her body weight. The reporter fell to the ground in a heap.

He felt the one called Blujh finger his weapon, but then take it off his weapon again.

He's waiting to see who the winner is going to be.

The rest of the group paused when they saw what had happened to two of their friends. They looked at him with mixtures of awe and horror, and Paul realized how he must look at that moment. They couldn't see the tendrils, so they must have associated Paul with some sort of low level omnipotence. If he had any chance to talk some sense into them, it was now.

"Listen up, you morons. I saved your skins just because you all were eager to get burnt to a crisp, doesn't mean I was. I saved myself and you in the process, and Wonder Boy took it upon himself to try and shoot me. You all saw it. Am I not allowed to defend myself? Besides, if you haven't noticed, we've got more company," Paul said.

Sure enough, more predators had massed around their group, but the Being's pulsing violet firework seemed to be holding the parasites at bay. Confusion marred their faces. They didn't understand the otherworldly contraption, but if their behavior before was any indicator, confusion wouldn't hold them back for long.

Paul let the Super Friends sans Officer Durant realize the gravity of their situation before he continued.

"Do you want to focus on getting your precious revenge on me and we all die, or do you want to work together and get us out of this mess? After I save your sorry asses, you can do whatever you find appropriate."

The last bit was a lie. Paul would take the first chance he had to escape, but they didn't need to know that.

One by one, they turned their faces away from Paul and to the approaching mass of parasites.

There were too many to count.