Psycher Chronicles

Chapter 72

Adaptation

(Ursala Jarnic AKA Ms. Clayton)

Tingling.

There was a gentle tingling within Ms. Clayton’s mind, the same way a too small drill would create rhythmic vibrations within her cerebral lobe.

Apparently at some point she had passed out from the changes that were wracking her body. A vomit projectile spatter pattern in front of her showed the outline of two silhouettes. Seeing the distinct outline of her abductors likely covered in the very vomit they induced from her hijacking caused a slight twinge of mirth to come to Ms. Clayton’s grime covered face.

Though the mirth was soon replaced by an intense burning sensation, as her mind and muscles felt like they were on fire and being molded with sottering irons.

Things were happening. Changes were taking place, and all Ms. Clayton could do was accept the changes.

Mentally she felt for things on her body, only to find out that most of her clothes were now missing. Likely done as a precaution, which was smart, while the kids had managed to remove her hidden weapons and picks, the thing that annoyed her most was that her watch was missing, along with its hidden destress beacon. If she was extremely lucky the kids would have set it off.

If not, well then she would have to try other means of escape.

In her mind, she felt an odd sort of prison around her psyche, as if what had previously been a balloon was now encapsulated by a lead lining. Somehow the change was both permanent and expanding.

The way she knew the change was permanent was hard to explain.

Call it intuition.

You could say it was her trusting that the worst that could happen could and would most often occur.

Like the way no one came for her now.

Even Ms. Clayton’s new compatriot seemed to have abandoned her. Or worse, somehow where she had been taken was so secure that there was no way even for the mechanic herself to find her.

Depending on how long it had been, her normal guards and security detail wouldn’t even check in on her. At most she would likely get a concerned text message and call asking where she was and why she was late to work.

No, right now she was on her own.

Well, not entirely on her own. In the other room were the two teenage werewolves who were apparently copulating after a successful hunt.

Moans.

Yep, that and the stench of their bodies going wild made it so Ms. Clayton, had time. Apparently, after going to clean off the vomit from their bodies, the duo thought, oh lets procreate real quick while the patient is undergoing changes.

This was fine, as it meant that Ms. Clayton had time.

Time to do what, she did not know, but she had time.

Glancing around, she saw that she was in the center of a large open warehouse that had likely been used to slaughter cows or other farmyard animals.

Now that she had more time to observe everything, she found that she was shackled to a steel chair. Apparently, this was not the first time this chair, nor this room had been used for such conversion processes.

This was bad, as such an act likely meant that most electrical equipment would not be nearby. Meaning that even if the Mechanic was somehow aware of her plight and looking for her, there was likely no tether connecting her to her current location.

No, right now, Ms. Clayton was on her own, the same way she had been for centuries.

Focusing her mind, she remembered the Mechanic’s talk about the organo-tech of the enemy. How if you focused just enough, you could mold the new tech to do your bidding.

While she was nowhere near the level of ability that the Mechanic had shown time and time again. There were a few basic classes that she had been expected to master. Unfortunately, none of those classes had any way of helping her now.

At most, they let her realize that changes were happening to her body, and that if she focused intently on the burning spots where the changes were manifesting, she could make alterations. At least that was the hope, as she focused her will on the connection points, where muscle met bone. She focused on the burning parts and first expanded them, before condensing the components to be thick steel like fibers.

Her goal was to be the biggest and strongest she could make herself.

In a way this was ideal, as it helped her adapt her body to her chosen fighting style. Going for highly durable and robust muscles in the arms, torso, and knees. While going for powerful tendons in her fingers, and arms.

Ms. Clayton wasn’t being forged into a wolf form, at least not the traditional wolf form. Here she was focusing on her own understanding of human anatomy and her own indomitable will to force her body into a perfect form.

For a warrior class like hers, there was a base form. One that held her enhanced natural body. Then there was the next step, an evolutionary step of increased energy expenditure to create momentary mass and power.

Scientifically speaking the conversion ratio of energy to power and mass was still a widely held secret of the Bakshee.

Now Ms. Clayton had a chance to both witness the conversation ratio from a firsthand perspective, but also she got to take into account all of her years of experimentation and applied physical violence to create the toughest base model she could begin with.

Resistance was futile, at this point all she could really do was accept her fate, form a perfect body, get free from here, then work with the mechanic to help reverse the process. At the very least, she wanted the weight that encapsulated her mind to be broken enough for her psyche to be able to retreat after death.

Panic.

There was of course a panic, for what if the Mechanic didn’t wish to help her?

Ms. Clayton had the thought for a fraction of a second, before she remembered the six or so warriors that constantly had their information erased and changed daily. Speaking of which, Ms. Clayton would definitely need the Mechanic’s help to have her own status changed.

Irony.

A word that often gets misused, but somehow seemed to be applicable to this situation she now found herself in. For the very application that Ms. Clayton now feared to oust her as a supernatural, was the program she had in fact created. It was also the very program that got her into this situation, as she used it to track the two wolves in the parking lot.

Two wolves who were sitting behind the wheel of a large and apparently reinforced van. A fact that Ms. Clayton now remembered vividly, as she saw the way the boy got frightened for a moment. Then after being yelled at by the female, the obvious leader of the pair, surged forward and slammed into Ms. Clayton.

Phantom pain.

Even now, remembering the moment of impact caused pain to shoot through her ribs. Pain that was again reinforced by the surge of energy, pain that Ms. Clayton now used to expand her chest cavity just enough to give her just a bit more air to breathe.

Holding in her breath, she felt the surging pain sizzle at first, but then gradually cool and release after enough time, meaning her modification had been successful. With that slight push outward, she had given her lungs just a bit more room to expand and hold oxygen.

Then with the initial surge done, Ms. Clayton focused on the next part, her arm muscles.

Not only was she focused on increasing her overall lifting power, but she now focused her will on having ease of movement, along with intense pulling strength. Then the last part was a further reinforcement on her legs.

With this last push of the slowly dying surges of energy, Ms. Clayton focused on developing powerful thigh muscles. Her intent was to create muscles that were powerful enough to jump over vans easily, something the warriors could do, but Ms. Clayton herself sadly could not. At least, she hadn’t been able to when she saw the incoming van and tried to jump away. Instead, she just missed the exit and found herself pinned against another parked car in the parking lot.

That should be something else that people could use to track her, but again the damage had already been done. She had been pinned long enough for the monsters to force their poisonous blood into her body. Worse, she had been in such a bad mental state that her mind couldn’t form any real resistances, at least not until now.

They drugged her, that is the only thing that made sense. Those two monsters that were even now mating like rabbits in the other room had likely drugged her.

Sniff.

The smell of anesthetics and medical supplies seemed bolster this train of thought, as Ms. Clayton could all but swear that she was sweating out the poison from her body.

Relief.

Finally, after long last the last of the burning changes finally left her body, as she felt a momentary reprieve from the pain.

Pausing for a moment, she took in first one breath, then a second. Before realizing that if she was going to get out of here, she needed to do it herself.

That is when she decided to act.

GRRROOOANNN!

Moving her newly coiled muscles in concert with each other, she began pushing and straining the metal chair and its bound chains simultaneously.

By pulling her arms and flexing her legs, she pushed as hard as she could. She pushed so hard that the chair itself began to bend backwards.

This was good, as it actually loosened up the tangled chains that were wrapped around her arms and torso. At least, they loosened up when she sat up, causing the chains to rattle and roll over her torso.

Then it was a matter of her quickly pulling her arms through her back in some odd reverse swimmer’s stroke that freed first one arm, then a second.

Rattle rattle.

With her arms freed, the chains began to fall and clatter loudly against the ground.

Silence.

For a moment there was an intense silence that filled the room, as Ms. Clayton wondered if that was enough to get the attention of the two otherwise distracted lovers.

As she paused, she realized that the faint tell-tale sounds of coitus were also missing, making it clear that Ms. Clayton needed to free herself of the chains binding the rest of her torso and legs.

Fortunately, this was mostly accomplished by her standing up, and climbing her way up to stand on the remains of the metal seat. At which point she found herself full free of all restraints, right at the exact moment that both hastily dressed lovers hustled into the smooth dock room. Their feet sliding, as they apparently didn’t take off their socks during the act, making their entry into the room just a touch more comical than would normally fit such a scenario.

“Let me guess, this is your first time?” Ms. Clayton said, still staring down at the two from her high perch atop the broken metal chair.

The two paused, looked at each other then both began charging forward.

“Kneel!” The woman called out, as she charged forward.

Hearing her desperate attempts to claim control, Ms. Clayton could only laugh as she realized getting out of here would be a lot easier than expected. In fact, she was so caught up in the moment that she failed to notice that she had a new message from a completely different system than she was used to interacting with flashing in the bottom right of her peripheral vision, letting her know something had happened.

While the girl slowed her charge forward slightly, the boy was already caught mid shift, his feet tearing through his white socks and remaining clothing.

Seeing the charging monster, Ms. Clayton only smiled as she leaned back in the chair, letting the bent metal frame hit the floor, as she rocked back and prepared to fight two monsters in hand-to-hand combat.

They don’t know what they are in for, Ms. Clayton thought to herself as her mind was already taking inventory of the room around her and finding multiple weapons to use.

***

(Misha Tulley)

Tinnitus.

A faint dull ringing sensation had been resonating in Misha’s ear drum all day. The only thing that seemed to calm the ringing was the fact that Misha focused on the moment. She focused on enjoying the quiet moment and silent glances of togetherness that can only be gained by spending time with family.

Misha liked that word, and found herself oddly drawn to the concept of family. It was something that she had never experienced before, but found that she would want to remember this moment, and perhaps that was why moments like this were so quiet, so it would be easier to fall back on and re-immerse yourself in.

Such moments were ultimately wasteful, as they served no true purpose, other than providing comfort. Somewhere between the words on the page and the mental images forming in her mind, she came to a new understanding, one that was counter to all her Psycher training.

All we have are moments, time will be eternal, but our moments and memories of those moments are all that truly matter.

Then like that, it worked.

All her focusing and effort on relaxing seemed to work, as she soon found the ringing in her ears start to subside, as she slowly felt her mind relax and the near constant ringing sounds within her ears to go away.

She didn’t know what happened, in fact, she didn’t want to know.

All she knew was that somehow the karmic debt she owed was paid, or at least nearing a zero sum, making it acceptable for her to be herself. Though rather than jump right into finding out what had happened, she paused and instead chose to enjoy the lingering traces of this moment.