AnotherArchetype
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107 - Dragon Fire
🕑 Added 2025-01-20 06:48:46 +0000 UTCNo sooner had I bounded my way to the end of the next corridor, with a large set of black double doors rapidly growing larger on my approach, did the double-doors burst open with explosive force.
Splintered bits of debris from the broken door added to the cuts already on my face. I turned hard on my heels, veering right.
There were just two possible routes available to me; another long corridor or, beyond the foyer desk to my right, a short flight of winding stairs.
The Pied Piper Task Force officers that had pursued me down the corridor initially were already catching up, so the thought of them having a clear line of sight of me down the next corridor promised a death sentence.
I bounded over the foyer desk and reached the first stair step in a single leap. Flames like the breath of some furious dragon filled the foyer behind me. The heat of the flames ran up my back and neck and atop my head.
My fox-hat was on fire. I yanked it off and threw it aside and looked back for a half-second to see the additional squad of Pied Piper officers that had used an explosive device to break through the black set of double doors. Two of the men had guns, but the man standing ahead of the others was wielding a flamethrower.
More flames burst in my direction, filling my view with heat and fire.
I leapt further up the stairs, the flames chasing me all of the way. I dove at the top step, feeling the heat at my ankles reaching an awful searing intensity.
On the ground, with the stairs behind me in flames, I saw my shoes were also on fire. I kicked them off in a frenzied panic.
Over and over again I muttered 'Please' as if to beg for all of the current nightmare to stop, or at least bring me some reprieve.
I stood up and the bullet wound above my left elbow sang, the pain reaching a height that made me weak in the knees and whimpering like a child.
But I couldn't give into the pain. If I let myself become distracted by it that would only give the Peepers a greater advantage.
The short flight of stairs had led to a large low-ceiling office-space caked in over a decade of dust. There were desks, and chairs, and a motivational poster reading: Pressure Makes Diamonds.
I don't want to be a bloody diamond, I thought, angrily, I just want to be me!
I knew I had to keep moving and that the Pied Piper officers wouldn't wait long before coming up the stairs, or finding some other means to trap me where I was.
The pain in my arm was causing me to wince one eye shut, and it was then I noticed that my teeth felt pointed and sharp; and my ears also pointed and longer too.
The more I noticed these changes, the more I seemed to change as a result. The muscles across my body grew as if I were coiling up; each bulging muscle ripping at my clothes; tearing seam and fabric.
The nails on my hands and feet grew into claws, and my overall size grew by several inches.
"No," I groaned, my voice sounding deeper than it should.
On the inside of my arms and the palm of my hands and around my chest I noticed a leathery, green-ish texture take hold; on the other sides of my body, like the back of my arms, my neck, and my legs, short, orange fox-like fur began to blossom.
The power was trying to take over.
The part of me that would resist such a change seemed distant, tired, as if becoming this were-monster was somehow like drifting off to a deep sleep.
But would it be so bad? A part of me wondered, Why not just give in and become something big, and fierce?
Try as I might to revert the changes, they simply wouldn't relent. I felt tired, not physically, but mentally. I did need sleep, and a reprieve from the chaos all around me. This understanding that I didn't have as much control over my own body anymore made me feel an ice cold dread clearly felt even with the stairs behind me being in flames, like a doorway to Hell.
I needed to get away.
Ahead, beyond the desks and tables, lay a huge glass set of window panes. I ran towards them just as the helicopter outside shined a bright spotlight against the panes.
I knelt down and used what precious little time I had to beg the power, both the fragments of medical knowledge and the healing power, to heal my left arm.
The pain increased in my arm several fold, telling me that the healing was taking effect. The muscles wriggled as if eels were under the skin; a truly awful sensation as if my arm might decide to explode in a shower of bone and blood from the ugly pressure within.
A sudden clink announced my arm having pushed the bullet out from my arm. Bile drooled down my chin as I struggled to stay fully cognizant of my surroundings. Had it been ten seconds or one minute since I started trying to heal my arm? I couldn't be sure. The pain had smeared my awareness of the time passing.
I moved my left arm about, glad to have the full range of motion returned to it. But there had been a cost; a mental fatigue that wasn't going away. A sense of detachment which, in turn, made it that much harder to prevent the power from unleashing itself more on me.
My feet and hands grew larger, and my throat thickened, growing a sac-like bulge to it like a frog. What abominable combination of fox and frog I must have taken on I could only imagine, and was grateful not to have anything like a mirror close by, because feeling the changes on me was terrible enough.
The flames held steady at the stairway. The old brick and thick stair carpeting proved surprisingly resilient to the amount of heat rendering the surfaces black. Soon the Pied Piper officers would come marching up.
I needed to get out whilst there was still time.
It was then all of the panes of glass behind me shattered. But it wasn't anything the Pied Piper Task Force had done.
It was a sonic shriek which felt as if a screwdriver were being dug into both my ears.
But within that sound was a familiar voice.
Xandra's. It had been her superhuman scream.
She had called out my name somewhere below in the building I was in.
I looked over my shoulder to the street beyond. My escape. All I would need to do is jump out and flee into the night. With my body in the monstrous were-fox-frog state there was a good chance I could outrun the Pied Piper Task Force, given I was smart about things.
But it was a hollow thought. Because I knew I would have to stay.
Xandra needed my help.
There wasn't time to fight the were-changes which had taken hold of me. Not yet. After taking a brief moment of indecision for myself, I sprinted forward, running straight back towards the stairwell and the flames roaring within it.
Comments
Mrs Cotton
Bye bye fox hat.
حسين عباس عبد المهدي
Thanks for the chapter and I have to say frog fox nickname is no longer cute
