Chapter 8

01-01-2029

New Year's resolution: I am going to keep a journal. Let's see if I stick with it. lol

01-10-2029

Off to a great start with this journal thing.

01-11-2029

Two days in a row! Go me!

01-30-2029

I got busy with work. Melanie's girlfriend, Young-Mi is cute. She came by to visit last week.

02-14-2029

Happy Valentine's Day, little journal. <3 <3 <3 <3

02-17-2029

Holy shit. I don't know what's going on. This morning I woke up and didn't know anything was wrong. Melanie nearly stabbed me with a fucking sword. I can't blame her for it. I'm trying to not lose my mind with the rest of the world. Things are bad. Our town doesn't seem to be having any problems but the cops have ramped up patrols. They've been announcing with bullhorns that people are to remain indoors because of an infectious disease but I know that's not the truth. I'm not sure what's going on but this can't be contagious or Melanie would have been affected. The news is horrifying right now and social media was too much for me to look at for long but I can't look away entirely. What the fuck is happening? Cops have killed people, not even just people with these weird powers but just anyone whose gotten in the way. People with powers have accidentally killed others. I don't know what to do other than hide.

What the fuck?

What am I?

There has to be an answer to this. There has to be an explanation. I seem to have my powers under control already, so why don't other people? Is it just panic?

- Personal journal of Page Simmons, volume 1, pages 1-3

"You need to be in that club tonight," Eugene says while pacing. He waves a hand at me without looking my direction. "And you can't go in there looking like that."

"I'm not going to look like a lobster," I say.

"God no," he says and stops to stare at me. "Please don't do that."

"I don't think it's a very good plan but," I pause to glance at my phone. "I mean, the guy is right there, just screaming 'I tried to kill you come pick me up.' If anything this seems like a trap."

"He has no way to know you could find him, right? Sites like that are supposed to be secure," Eugene says. "I don't know how you did it and I don't want to know."

"No problem there," I say. "What about you? Starling said y'all avoid this place and I quote 'like the plague.'"

"He's right, I'll have to drop you off and wait," he says. "I've got a spare earpiece we can pair with your phone." He looks at his wrist watch. "It's already eight at night. I hate losing time. How long were you with Starling?"

"We stopped for burgers after a while, then he drove around a bit more and said something about it being in case we had a tail or something."

"Did you see anyone following you?"

"No. I kind of got the feeling he just wanted to go for a drive," I say. "I used to do that when I needed to think."

Eugene lets out a little huff of a laugh. It's something both he and Starling do. He relaxes his shoulders as he smiles. It's not as much of a grin as when Starling does it; a bit more shaky and tired.

I can't blame him for being tired. It's been a long day and now is about to be even longer.

"Any word from the Williams family?" I ask.

"No," he says. "I texted them that we're still trying to find the guy but didn't get a response. No news on the butler either."

"Maybe you should get some sleep," I say. "I can come back in a couple hours and you can drop me off at the nigh—"

"No," he says more firmly. "We need to do this while we know the guy's there. He may not stay as long as his post claims. He could get kicked out for being an asshole. We need to go as soon as possible and you need to shift."

"Okay," I say then start heading toward the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom," I say at the door. "You don't want to see me change."

"I really don't," he agrees.

I make sure the door's locked. Sure, Eugene might not want to see me shapeshift but Starling could have other ideas. He certainly seems more comfortable around CoLs than Eugene does. Not that the flimsy lock would keep either of them out.

I put my phone on the counter and pull my keys and wallet out of my clothing. Everything's still in good shape. I made sure they were protected in the pockets when I shifted my clothing at the Williams' house but one can never be too careful.

I'm glad the clothes took the shapeshifts well. Even the inexpensive shirt held up, though I did kept it close to my body as a shirt and tie.

In the last twenty four hours I've used my powers more than in the last several months. And here I go again.

I scroll through Martin Aaron's photos. He's mostly with masculine people, yet occasionally there's a feminine serving person or, in a few cases, strippers near him. Most of the fem people don't look particularly taken with the guy, including the strippers who are presumably being paid to be there.

I understand them wanting to be anywhere else. No way am I'm getting close to the guy while I have boobs. Dude seems grabby. He could piss me off enough for me to lose my cool and blow my cover. I know just which form to start with.

I shapeshift quickly, which causes my clothing to make a snapping noise from the movement as I simultaneously increase my height and build. Nothing I'm wearing has torn.

Now I'm not far off from Martin's build, yet, this is mine. This form is me, it feels right. It's actually the very first shapeshift I ever did, and I hadn't known I had done anything at the time. I didn't notice for more than an hour after waking up on February 17th.

I had slept in that day. I even used the restroom and cooked breakfast without noticing I had transformed. I was halfway through eating my bacon when Melanie confronted me with one of her swords before I knew anything was up.

She thought I was some home invader who'd stolen her friend's clothing. It was weird. I mean, I knew my pajamas felt a bit too tight, short, and chaffed weirdly but as far as I was aware they had shrunk.

"Yeah, this isn't going to work," I say.

There's no way I am going to use my own face to confront this guy again, even after I've shifted. My face hasn't changed much. I look like myself, just another version me. Taller, assigned male, masculine, fit to the point of being a little buff.

I'm not always this muscular but today I'm feeling it. My hair is the same light color as my Basic and my haircut is still short with a buzzed undercut. Even my green eyes are the same and my nose is just as prominent and slightly hooked like normal. I really like my nose.

Even Melanie said I looked like myself that first day, just different, I think to myself.

She had mentioned that after I insisted I was me, Page. Once she really got a good look she realized I was telling the truth. I had just transformed into a man, somehow.

I had also been confused about that and almost argued that I already was one before I realized what she meant and managed to return to my Basic form.

An experienced CoL like Martin Aaron might realize I'm the same person from the Williams' house. Even if he is foolish enough to post selfies at the nightclub after trying to kill at least seven people.

I get to work on my face and hair. Subtly altering my ears, cheekbones, jawline, everything.

I shrink my nose down a little too far and decide to keep it that way as I widen the distance between my eyes, then go the other direction and push them a bit closer together instead.

I also make my irises blue and lengthen my hair as I change it to a sick sea green. When I'm done fucking up my face I want to punch myself.

I shift my voice to make it a little deeper than normal. Then I change my clothing to mimic some of the items similar to what Martin's friends are wearing. Baggy dark colored pants, expensive sneakers, a button-up T-shirt with an over-sized gray and black hoodie that looks a little less over-sized than it is thanks to my current frame. I add a neon yellow stripe to the hoodie's sleeves and shake my head at my reflection.

Yup. I want to punch myself in the fucking face.

None of this feels like when I copied Martin. This feels like it's still me, just with some rather regrettable yet temporary modifications.

I gather my belongings and put them in an interior pocket of my hoodie before shaking my head again and reaching for the door. I freeze. Will this be too much for Eugene? He was the one insisting I shapeshift.

"I'm about to come out," I say loud enough that he can hear me through the door.

"Got it," Eugene replies.

I walk back into the hotel room and brace myself.

To my surprise Eugene studies me. He even puts his chin in his hand as he looks me over from head to feet. I stand still as he approaches. I'm a couple inches taller than him now.

"That's so weird," he says.

"What is?" I ask.

"I thought I'd feel different," he explains. "Looking at you, I mean. You look completely different but somehow you feel the same."

I furrow my brow a bit.

He takes a step back and gestures at me. "I mean, I know logically you were about a foot shorter and a completely different gender expression a few minutes ago but somehow you don't seem like you've changed at all."

"Well now I'm a bit offended," I say. "I worked really hard to give myself a very punchable face." I laugh so he knows I'm not actually upset. "Are you okay, Eugene?"

"Surprisingly, I am." He replies in wonder.