I sip my terrible beer and meander as if I'm just looking for a friend and not someone who tried to kill me earlier today. A few people glance at me and get out of my way and I realize I'm scowling more than a little.

I relax my face enough to look neutral before plastering on a fake look of buzzed amusement. I'm approaching the next bar, a more traditional looking set-up that's lit with neon blue and pink lights in geometric patterns, when Eugene pipes up again.

"I think you should keep talking to me," he says. "Tell me when you spot the guy at least."

I haven't reverted the inside of my right ear back so I reply using my secondary mouth. "I can do that." I sip my beer. "I'm passing another bar and getting closer to the fish one. Haven't spotted Aaron yet. This place is packed. Pretty sure the only reason I can move around at all is I've been glaring thanks to this terrible drink."

Eugene laughs. "It's that bad?"

"I really have never liked beer," I say. "Tastes like spoiled bread to me."

"Did it always?"

The question makes me stop in my tracks.

Did it?

"I don't know," I say. "I can't go back in time and check."

There's some laughter directly ahead of me. It's loud enough to hear over the music. I follow the sound to see a booth, not far from the next bar area, filled with the CoLs from Aaron's social media posts. At the center of them is Martin Aaron, still shifted to be a giant lobster-man, laughing and spilling his drink after trying to pick up a glass with a claw.

"Found him," I say into the earpiece. "Gonna get closer."

"Roger," Eugene says. "Be careful."

"Are you kidding?" I ask with a chuckle.

One of the tables adjacent to the booth Aaron and his buddies are in clears of people and I take up residence at it, setting my terrible beer down. It's half full. I've had more of it than I thought and decide to preemptively clear out any alcohol from my system using my powers.

I need to be sober for this, even if it means I'll have to pee sooner than I'd like. I can circumvent that with my powers too if I must, but it bothers me to cancel out so many biological processes. I am supposed to still be human, after all.

"What are you seeing?" Eugene asks.

"Dude's with the same three from his CoL-space photos, plus two more, one of which is the only fem presenting person at the booth. Doesn't look like that one wants to be here," I reply.

"What are they talking about?"

"Too loud to tell," I say. "If I mess with my ears too much the music will fuck them up," I add. "Sorry if that was TMI."

"It's fine," Eugene says through clenched teeth. "Can you get closer?"

I redouble my mental note not to mention how I'm able to speak to Eugene without anyone noticing. Frankly, it would probably upset most CoLs to know as well.

"I'll try in a minute," I say. "Just got a table. Might seem weird if I moved now."

"Roger," he says.

"Hey, buddy! Watch it!" Someone shouts.

An extra tall blond pushes through the crowd and heads straight for the booth. They're very masculine and even have a beard that's perfectly trimmed. Their white suit stands out among the other nightclub goers.

I glance at Aaron's booth just in time to see the blood drain out of his crusty face. He puts his claws up and they revert to hands as he shakes.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he says. "Let's be cool."

"Something's going on," I tell Eugene. "Someone's just shown up and Aaron's terrified of the guy."

"Get closer," Eugene says.

I pick up my drink and move toward the booth.

"Martin," the bearded person says. "I do believe we had an agreement, no?"

Martin Aaron changes back to Basic completely. He gestures for his companions to leave as he gets up from his seat.

"Can we not do this here?" He asks.

"This guy a problem?" One of Aaron's friends, who had been in his social media posts and has fish fins on their head instead of hair, asks while stepping closer to the bearded one.

"No, he's fine, he's a friend," Aaron assures the fish person. "Don't worry about it Kevin."

I'm near enough to the booth now that I actually bump into one of Aaron's companions. I try to brush it off as being drunk, which the person seems to buy. The person in the white suit extends a hand to Aaron with a smile that does not reach their eyes.

"Martin, we had an agreement," they say again. "And you haven't held up your end."

"I did," he says. "I did everything I was supposed to."

"You caused some noise today," the bearded guy says. "The wrong kind of noise."

"Oh, please," Aaron replies leaning against the outside of the booth. "Like that was the wrong kind. Do you even know what happened?"

I sip my terrible beer and act like I'm looking at the dance floor behind the man in the suit. There are a lot of CoLs of various classes dancing.

A few take breathers by reverting to Basic briefly before resuming their shifts. They're probably Class C. It can be harder for them to maintain a shift for extended periods of time and impossible for them to make changes that are inorganic. The people taking breathers in the club are humanoid, not the folks with metal skin or seven and half feet of height.

Whoever this bearded guy is, Martin Aaron is terrified of them. I pegged Aaron as being a Class A, but could I be wrong? Or could this mystery person be something worse?

"Martin, my friend," the bearded person says again as they try to put a hand around Aaron's shoulder. Their index finger transforms into a long thin knife as they move. Martin Aaron shifts his neck to become steel just in time to prevent the blade from removing his head.

The man in the suit is pushed backward onto the crowded dance floor as Aaron's entire right side transforms into a gigantic writhing mass of octopus tentacles.

"Shit," I say with both of my mouths at the same time.

"What's going on?" Eugene asks.

Aaron's friends rush forward as he withdraws his tentacles. His clothing has been shredded, I guess he didn't bother getting anything shift-ready, not much can keep up with a change like that, at least nothing that's affordable. I get closer to Aaron just before he spots me. I brace myself for his attack by strengthening my body but he's wrapped by a long snakelike thing made of white scales and bone plates.

It lifts him up, slamming him into the neon lights and rafters. People have long since started screaming and running for the exits. I follow the flesh cord to its source as it continues battering Aaron around. It's connected to several others that have his friends in similar situations. A fourth one slams into my guts hard.

I was still prepared for Aaron's hit but this is more forceful. I twist, shift my hoodie to strengthen it and sharpen the edges into blades that cut the flesh of the thing hitting me. I cut it clean in half just before crashing into the mirror behind the skeletal bar.

I shake my head as I get up and realize I reflexively moved all my belongings, my phone and wallet, into my own body to protect them from damage. I decide to keep them in my little armored fleshpocket.

"Oh my gods," the bartender breathes as they stare at me. They're shaking. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I say. The earpiece I had is gone so I don't bother trying to fill Eugene in, and instead shift the insides of my right ear back to normal. "Can you make it to an exit?" I ask.

The bartender shakes their head. "I don't think so."

"I'll try to make a path," I say then hop over the bar.

People nearly knock me over as they try to flee. I'm more than a little worried about crush injuries and deaths from this, but also very distracted by the bearded guy in the suit whose arms have become giant snakes, only a few of which have heads.

Any time someone catches Snakebeard's eye they send a new flesh cord out to attack. I do something I'm not proud of and become invisible as I race at the guy.

Running through a mob of terrified people can be difficult but it's impossible when they can't see you. I jump up and grab onto one of the still mostly functional ceiling joists and swing back down toward the source of the snakes just as they begin to withdraw the serpent limbs, dragging the bodies of Aaron and his companions through the crowd.

I hit Snakebeard a bit off center in the shoulder and feel the full impact as if I was Basic and had just jumped down one story onto concrete. My legs hurt as I roll into the crowd.

The guy hasn't moved.

Snakebeard only turns their head and hisses. "Heathens."

Seriously?

I didn't want to accidentally kill anyone from over-strengthening my body while running through the crowd. Thunderskull's arm comes to mind, but this guy makes me think of what it may have been like to be on the receiving end of my strengthening trick.

I patch up my legs and double up my toughness again as people bump against me and run. The person in the white suit seems to notice the gap people keep hitting and stares directly at me.

"You will be judged," they hiss.

A giant octopus tentacle wraps around Snakebeard's head and wrenches them off their feet before throwing them up into the damaged rafters where they had been trashing Aaron and his friends.

I make myself visible again and head toward Aaron just as the building shudders like it was hit by a bomb. More glass, wood, and stone rain down from where Aaron threw the man in the suit. I shift my clothing up over myself to protect as many people as I can, catching as much of the debris as I can in an upside down umbrella sort of scoop.

I set the rubble down next to one of the garish bars. It's soon apparent that it's not just a hole that's been punched in the building as the smell of smoke rises and the building creaks and screams along with the crowd. Aaron is at my feet, barely breathing unlike his friends who are broken and still.

Like his friends his face and body are a battered bloody pulp. He looks up at me with one remaining eye that can't blink because the lid has been torn off.

"You," he says.

I know I still have a punchable face. I haven't changed that.

"Sorry...about...the house," he says. "No...hard...feelings."

"Where's the kid?" I ask as the building groans again.

People are stuck at the exits. I don't know if the doors are jammed or if it's just the panic that has them bottlenecked. I need to do something. This place is no longer stable.

"I thought it would...be worth it...," he wheezes. "Even...dying like this...but...you...pagan scum are alright."

I don't have time to wonder what the fuck that means or how Aaron recognized me because the building is about to collapse in on us. I'll survive, I know that, but it's very fucking unlikely anyone else in here is a Class S. I do the only thing I can think of to keep things from falling in completely.

I shift.

Big time.

I release my body, mixing flesh, bone, steel, whatever I can think of, extending myself to fill the space closest to the walls and ceilings where the damaged supports have fallen away. I hold some of the ceiling beams in place while I ease others down to the floor as gently as possible.

I keep my clothing from being taxed too severely to prevent it from getting destroyed like Aaron's by stretching it enough to not wind up some kind of giant flesh-spider emerging from a suspended human body. It doesn't take me long to change, and the building is heavy, but once it's apparent someone's done some weird horrific shit to keep it from collapsing the terrified throngs of people calm a little.

Not much, a few finally start screaming because they see what I've done, but most of them quiet down. Maybe they're just too terrified to make noise? I shift a few more eyes throughout my body, that I try to keep as hidden as possible, to get a better idea of where everyone is. Then, I shift a mouth and use my normal masculine voice to make an announcement.

"I've got the building for now. I can hold it up as long as you need to evacuate. File out calmly. Take your time. Please, help one another," I say. "I know saying 'keep calm' doesn't really work in a situation like this but do your best."

"He's right," the bartender from the skeleton bar says.

"Thanks," I say to them.

It takes a little under thirty minutes for everyone to get out. The bartender with the cat ears stays around, doing their best to direct people to the exits and even helps one person with a busted leg hobble through the front exit, which has had the doors ripped out of the frame. I can always spot them in the crowd thanks to their glossy silver hair.

"How are you doing?" The bartender asks after coming back into the building.

"Just peachy," I say.

"Police and fire are here, they're going to clear the building," they say. "I'll stay so they know you're here and...will you be able to keep this up while they remove the..."

"Bodies? Sure."

I suppose I really should be more upset by the dead people beneath me. I'm not sure why I'm not. Maybe it's because I'm over a hundred tons of flesh, steel, and raw power supporting the remnants of the building right now? I should tell Doctor Hailu about this.

It may be important.

The bartender nods, their ears twitch. "I'm Neoni, by the way. She and her."

"Page," I say before thinking I should've used a fake name. "He, she, they, whatever really."

"I'd say you are very 'whatever' right now."

"Hilarious," I reply dryly.

The firefighters and EMTs enter, following Neoni's directions to the four dead bodies directly below me. She assures them that I didn't kill anyone. I tried to save them. That I protected her when the man in the white suit attacked.

The rescue team discusses what to do. I let them know that it seems there doesn't seem to be a fire, though I had smelled some smoke earlier. After some time a few police officers enter.

"We can't ask this guy to keep this up forever," one of the EMTs tells one of the cops. "Even CoLs have limits."

The police officer gestures to a couple others. "Take as many photos of the crime scene as you can. Then get these bodies out of here. JP's on the way." He looks up at me but he either doesn't know where to focus his gaze or is too disturbed by what I've done to ever settle on one spot. "You...good?"

"Yeah," I say. I add truthfully, "I could do this all night."

"A funny guy," the cop says. "Once we have everyone out and give you the 'all clear' we'll have you drop the building. Try to keep it as contained if you can."

I'd nod if I had a head right now.

"Got it," I say instead.

I'm not sure how much time has passed since I got to Stick Shifter's. I hope Eugene is doing okay.