The magic obscuring his face fades. Our eyes are no longer averted when we look at him. Upon closer examination, I came up with two highly educated hypotheses.

Number one. I noticed a tattoo on his neck. Since my last punch cut him on the neck, right on his tattoo, it could have disrupted the spell. This makes sense, as integral damage to a seal on a spell breaks it. That is why it is common for magical seels to have protection over them. Similar to the stamp used to open the door. The seal is made of strong material and probably has two spells over it. A protection spell that makes it tough to break, and a spell to repair any damage on it. I could tell because this was a mansion, and the door looked expensive.

He might have relied on his skills to never get it damaged; maybe he could not focus on repairing it because of my impressive moves. The reason is uncertain, but that can be what broke the spell.

My second hypothesis is he drops the spell to distract me because the DUDE IS HOT! His jawline is sharp, his dark hair goes past his ears, and his red eyes pierce right through me. We all stare at each other, uncertain of what to do next. we all didn’t see this coming. Crismon's face turns a light shade of red, which must be embarrassing. Mister is a super cool, attractive, fantastic assassin who can predict our every move messed up, probably in the worst way imaginable for him.

“Your beauty won’t stop me,” I shout at him.

“My What?” Crimson says, confused.

“Shush those bouncy lips and drop your weapon. You can’t win.”

“We both know that's a lie.” Crimson ignores my compliment. “You haven’t even made any ground. I am willing to bet this is all a facade, and you are quaking in your slimy body.”

He wasn’t wrong. Pain circulated like blood, but I needed to keep the bravado up. I must protect Emanuel and make sure he gets out of this house. Crimson knows we have the upper hand no matter how tough he acts. We have the key and are right next to the door. It’s not a simple turn and open as he is fast enough to get one of us before we can open the door. Though, I still believe we have the high ground.

Without another word, Crimson lunges at the key in my hand. I moved out of the way, but his gun was already aimed at my head. He pulls the trigger, and the bullet flies at my head, snapping back. Before impact, I channel the Source through it. I wasn’t quick enough to solidify my head, but it did slow the bullet down so that it didn’t blast off. It just slowly pushed through my head. It hurts; it HURTS, but I’m still okay. Even if my head blasted off, I could regrow it with no problem, but regrowing my eyes would be a pain. I’m just lucky he aimed between the eyes and not at one.

Without a beat, Crimson’s blade comes down at my hand, holding the key. I absorb my arm and the key into my torso before he can get a slice in.

“Sucks for you, the bullet didn’t work,” I say with a chipper tone.

“That just means I need to use more than one.” He responds, mocking my tone.

He whips his gun around and aims his sights at Emanuel. I leaped forward with no other thought in my mind. He fires four times, with each bullet hitting my back. They sting, but his goal wasn’t to hurt me and distract me enough for his next move. My side burned with incredible pain, with a heat that could melt a glacier. He sliced a chunk of my side, creating a gap big enough for the key and a lump of my slime to fall on the floor. Crimson picks it up but isn’t the only one with moves.

I morphed into a sphere one of my size. Time to unleash my go-to moves, One Hundred Punch Show.

HUNDRED PUNCH is a move where I fire out one hundred fists. They are tough to do at my top speed. Out of the orb, a flurry of crystalized fists bombards Crimson. This move takes a ton of construction as before they hit the floor or a wall, i de-crystalize them to add a level of bounce. That way, they can ricochet off the wall and floor. One drawback is I am a small floating slime ball, only held up for a few seconds by the moment of my rapid-fire blast.

This movie is meant to overwhelm my opponent as I get a few shots in. Crimson dodges the blows. Tile shatters, floor broadens winter, all in the hopes Emanuel won’t be bothered by the property damage. The movements of my fist are random. They are unpredictable for a normal human, not that apparent otherworldly fighter.

For the first 25, Crimson dances between them with ease. The following 25 just grazes him as he pushes through. I am learning a new negative to this move. As Crimson pushes forward, he slashes with percions with his knife. Severed limbs fall from the ground as he cuts through the foresty of arms, putting him inches from me.

That pain engrosses my body as the flames sear into my ooze. I lost mass in abundance. I won’t go down that easy. I fired ten punches simultaneously and hit him in the face, chest, and gut. He is sent flying down the hall, and the key falls.

I grabbed it and turned to the door. I tossed Emanuel the key and braced myself for the next step in my stupid plan. I jump at the door. I liquified myself and moved under the door through the thin gap between the door and the floor.

The built-in security system activates. The door surges with the Source and converts it to electrical energy. My body is pumped with enough electricity to power an apartment complex. My body always reacts to electricity differently. I crystallize my hands by converting the Source in my body into electrical energy and giving the ooze a nice voltage massage.

So, at that moment, my body crystallizes under the door. My focus was on sliding under the quickly and liquifying the crystallized segments. It is hard to do when your body is inflamed with the pain of multiple severed limbs that have calcified by a burning blade.

I make it to the other side. I have no time to focus on myself. The pain was tremendous but necessary. Emanuel informed me as we were coming up with the plan that the key was the only way to unlock the door unless his father was working in the shop.

His father had an interior lock in the garage door as he would always tinker with the Solar Sail. He didn’t want the kids to wander into his workspace and lock themselves in, so he installed a secondary lock that can only be opened from the inside, despite having the key. It was an issue for the family as the dad would frequently leave through the garage and enter the house through another entrance if he got distracted and left the left door locked from the inside.

Low and behold, Emanuel is right. I see a second lock on the door. I unlock both as I hear Crimson charging toward Emanuel.

“Looks like he left you to die!” Crimson shouts.

I flip the door open and see Crimson closing on Emanuel with a blade drawn.

“Nope, he’s with me. “ I yank the screaming Emanuel inside the garage and shut the door. I hit both locks and turn to the still-screaming Emanuel.

“You have the key still? “ I say to him.

He holds the stamp up, and I feel my body go numb with relief. I knock on the door, and if I had a mouth, I would have been smiling wide.

“Well looks like you’re trapped out there. Good luck getting in.”

I hear Crimson release a guttural yell. I let my body do what it felt right and reverted to a pile of ooze on the floor. It didn’t eliminate pain, but it helped. I can feel the Source channel through the door once more as the security measures kick in.

Emanuel runs to a draw on a workbench. He presses the same key to the drawer to unlock it. Inside are the keys to the Solar Sail. The ship is the size of a small bus I have seen on other floating rocks. This model is rectangular with a pointed front. The sails are retracted into the ship. Even though it's been sitting here collecting dust, it's clear Emanuel’s father took great care of this ship.

Emanuel opened the driver's seat, and a SHIT  echoed in the garage. From behind the door, I could hear Crimson laugh.

“Something wrong with the Solar Sail?” He shouts from the other side of the door.

I looked around the garage and noticed the bottom was full of scratches and scorch marks as if someone had broken in. The worst part is that the bottom was melted from the other side, causing it to fall to the floor. He was already in there. He left the door locked in case he lost the key.

There is still hope; we can maybe bash through the garage door. I slither over to Emanuel, who was already trying to fix the destroyed dashboard. The steering wheel is melted, and the console has been repeatedly stabbed. He even cut up the seats for good measure.

We can’t fly the ship, the exit is sealed, and I took too much damage. They planned all of this, and we fell for it.