The Permutation

Apex (Part 13) Paul

The tendril was right. With enough research, Paul was sure that he would find all of Officer Durant's dirty laundry. The guy was probably a scummy piece of shit just like the rest of society, and Paul was doing the world a favor by getting rid of him.

The smack to the face jogged something else loose in his mind.

Since when have the tendrils been able to shape themselves?

In an effort easier than breathing, Paul had been subconsciously shaping the tendrils into whatever suited his purpose, but until that evening, Paul couldn't remember a single time he had done something like that. Was it possible his gift was more bounteous than he realized? That the confines of his sheltered life had limited his creativity, and he had blossomed under intense pressure?

Paul called the four tendrils into existence. Until this point, Paul had always viewed the tentacles of an enormous creature from the depths of the abyss, so that is what they had remained.

But what if they could be so much more?

Like a lump of clay, Paul tried forming the tendrils into new and exciting shapes.

Paul imagined a long and cylindrical shape with a hardened shell that could withstand even his tremendous girth. He divided the tendrils into multiple chitinous segments with a hinge joint between each section that would allow for flexibility and range of motion. Finally, he sharpened the tips of the limbs into a point with a slight hook-like projection that could used to latch onto most surfaces.

When all was said and done, Paul realized that his creations closely resembled the physiology of a spider. They sprouted from the small of his back adjacent to his thoracic vertebrae. Probing with his fresh, new legs, Paul latched dug each piece into the frost-hardened earth. Securely fastened, Paul pushed himself upwards, lifting him off the ground.

The movement produced an effect that left Paul hovering over the earth, his limbs akimbo. He left two tendrils planted in the ground at any given time and used the others to propel himself forward. The going was slow as each movement sent Paul lurching forward almost knocking him off balance and tumbling onto the ground. Distributing his weight evenly proved to be a difficult task, but the tendrils seemed to have an intuition that made up for Paul's complete lack of grace.

When Paul started moving at a quicker pace, Paul's thoughts graduated from trying to move to thinking about starvation and temperature. The winds rushing past Paul were leeching the heat from his body at a rapid rate.

Paul had never found it necessary to equip his closet with outfits designed to withstand the elements. He figured if he just stacked layers of T-shirts and sweatpants on top of each other he would be able to nullify the worst effects of the cold. The natural insulation of his thick layer of fat could handle the rest.

Once Paul retrieved the quilt, he promised himself he would take a couple dozen health days before continuing his revenge. Besides, he would need weeks to top the Cade Jahns masterpiece. With his new tendrils, a myriad of possibilities had opened unto him like a flower of unimaginable beauty, and Paul felt his eyes water at the thought of the pure euphoria.

A blur of movement at the periphery of his vision sent Paul tumbling to the ground. He thoughtlessly probed with a tendril to determine the source of the disturbance. He arranged his tendrils as a tripod on the ground and used the fourth tendril to sweep the perimeter. Whatever the source, it had fled the boundary of Paul's influence. It was at that moment Paul realized something else. Until this moment, Paul could only use his tendrils in areas he was intimately familiar with, and as of that moment, he had no idea where he was.

Another flurry of movement rushed by Paul, but this time it was faster. He felt the air rush by him. The scars on his face itched the way they did when someone stared at them, and Paul couldn't escape the feeling he was being toyed with. This time, the tendrils did falter, and they blinked out of existence as quickly as they had appeared. Paul was powerless to control his descent, and he landed on his legs with the sound of cartilage popping and bones spanning. Pain flooded his body and blocked any other sensation than white-hot agony. His nerves sent one continuous message to his overtaxed brain.