Limitless Evolution As a Snake

I keep moving anyway, because arguing with the System has never once changed an outcome, and the pipe opens up ahead into a wider shaft with a grate at the bottom. Through the slats I catch the flicker of a lantern and the shape of a man crouched over a crate, counting something with slow, careless fat and greasy fingers.

Okay, so I’m nervous about this one. Genuinely nervous, not the fun kind.

[System: You’re always nervous; you’re a little nervy cunt.]

Look, old mate, every other time I’ve killed something, it was actually trying to kill me. Bugs, golems, whatever. Self-defense. This is just... a guy. Counting stuff, and he hasn’t done anything to me. He looked at Lyra funny, and now I’m about to end his whole existence. That’s not defence; I’m pretty sure that’s just murder with extra steps.

[System: Yeah nah mate you’re overthinking this, pretty sure you’re gonna keep bonding with women for the rest of your slithery little invisible menace of a life, that’s just how the system works, so really you’re out here doing quality control. Vigilante work. Protecting the community, and children! This bloke’s probably done worse to someone who couldn’t grow fangs and settle it personally.]

That’s... actually kind of comforting? Is that bad that I find that comforting?

[System: Mate I’m not your therapist; I’m a koala. I think just cope and move on.]

Right. For Lyra, I need to protect her, protecting whoever comes after her, community service with venom glands... and if it’s for her. If it’s actually protecting her and not just me being a jealous freak about it, then fine, yeah, I can do this.

I feel better already having said it, even though nothing about the situation has changed and I’m still an angry window snake about to end a man’s life over a bad look, but the System’s right about one thing: there’s no version of this where I walk away and just let it go. Lyra’s mine and that’s not a feeling I asked for, but it’s the one I’ve got.

I let go of the grate bar and drop, landing soft on cold concrete, and the fall doesn’t even register as a fall anymore, just a shift in air pressure and then ground. I slide along the shadow at the base of the wall, tongue flicking out to taste the greasy sweat-and-oil smell of him; it’s going to take me a while to forget that smell. I circle wide until I’m coming up behind his crate instead of in front of it.

He never even turns around.

Pressure Point Intuition lights up soft behind my eyes, little dotted lines mapping out his spine like a treasure map only I can see, and I go up his ankle first, quick touch, nothing, then the back of his knee, then lower spine, base of his skull, three more spots along his shoulder that make something in his whole body just switch off.

He freezes mid-count. Fingers stop on a stack of crumpled bills or cheques, who knows, I haven’t worked out what the currency is yet. His eyes are still open, darting, and I can feel the tension in him even though nothing on the outside moves, like a scream trapped behind glass.

[System: Oh that’s the good stuff right there, absolute rag doll now, can’t even blink funny.]

I climb him slowly, coil by coil, up his sleeve, over his shoulder, close enough that my tongue brushes his ear and I feel him try to flinch and fail completely.

[System: Alright, choice time cobber, you can just juice him with venom now, quick, clean and boring orrrr you could have a bit of fun with it first.]

...go on.

[System: Blow his eardrums out with that squeaky new trick of yours, [Squeaky-Toy Impact], it’s still plenty nasty at this range, then eat his little sandwich right in front of his face while he can’t do a thing about it, then piss on his crate to mark the spot, yeah it’ll pull in every rat and roach in a ten meter radius but that’s a you problem for later, worth it for the bit.]

I like that plan more than I should.

I coil near his ear and let the sound out, a thin shrieking pitch that has no business coming from something my size, and his whole face contorts even though he can’t scream, can’t do anything but feel it rupture something deep and delicate. Blood trickles out of his ear canal, dark and slow.

The crate beside him has his lunch sitting open on top, wrapped in wax paper, and it’s actually a good spread. Fresh bread, olive oil soaked into the crust, ham layered thick, a slice of cheese, crisp lettuce underneath. I slide down onto it and take a bite where he can see me do it, chewing slow, right in his eyeline, because if I’m going to be a monster about this I might as well be a petty one.

Then I find the corner of his little setup, the crates, the lantern base, and I mark it. Piss and musk, deliberate, spread thin across the wood and metal so it doesn’t read as one clean scent trail. Let the bugs and rats sort out whose territory this is now and let the cops sort out nothing at all, though thinking about this.

Old mate, Lyra’s a cop, yeah? So she’ll be the one to find this mess. And she’ll know it’s me, won’t she? The smell, the bond, she’ll put it together. Good, let her see what I did for her.

[System: 100% you sick fuck you are correct, I like the way you think!]

Last thing I do is find his throat, and I don’t make it quick, because some petty part of me decides he doesn’t deserve quick.

Old mate, is there a way to make the venom blood slower or another way I can make this suck for him?

[System: You’re definitely getting bonus points for this, hmm. I can make him hard; that’s one of my skills, so when they find him, he will be a deflated sack of bones surrounded in snake piss and hard as a rock.]

Uhhhh sure, that’s so cooked but sure.