Limitless Evolution As a Snake

Yeah

[System: Right, so, three things on the menu today, but mate. All of ’ em’re kinda dumb, not gonna lie to ya.]

The panel blooms in my vision, three little boxes stacked on top of each other.

[Surprise Soap-Bomb (Rank D+)]

Cost: 50 IP

Blows a bunch of floating soap bubbles at the enemy. When a bubble pops on them, it either explodes like a real grenade or blinds them like a flashbang. The catch? It’s a total 50/50 guess; you have no idea if it’s going to blow them up or just

blind them until it actually pops.

Notes: Great for causing chaos. Terrible if a bubble floats backward and pops in your own face.

Cooldown: 4 minutes.

That sounds unbelievably stupid.

[System: Yeah nah, it is. Fifty-fifty odds on friendly fire too if the wind’s got any opinions that day.]

I could see a bubble drifting back and blowing my head clean off. Hard pass. Still, it would be hilarious to lob one at Ham just to see what happens. The next option is, oh god.

[Suicide Health Drain (Rank B)]

Cost: 100 IP

Instantly wipes out 99% of your own health to chop off 10% of the enemy’s total health bar, completely ignoring their armour or shields. The catch? You are left with literally 1 HP, meaning a gentle breeze or a stubbed tail will instantly kill you right after.

Notes: The ultimate move for hurting giant bosses. Do not use if a tiny rat is standing next to you.

Cooldown: 1 hour.

I glance sideways at Lyra, who’s tapping her foot by the doorway with her arms crossed, clearly two seconds from grabbing my tail and physically dragging me out of the building.

Sounds like a skill I’d use exactly once, right before dying in the stupidest way imaginable.

Filed under: never, unless I’m fighting a literal god and have a death wish.

[Cum On Demand (Rank A)]

I stare at it for a solid three seconds.

[System: Before ya ask, yeah, that’s a real skill, and yeah, I’m just as confused as you are about who coded this thing.]

Cost: 69 IP

Lets you shoot a massive load instantly on command with zero wait time, zero recharge, and zero tiredness. The catch? Your tail tip vibrates uncontrollably and plays a loud cartoon "GULP-GULP-GULP" sound effect out loud every single time you do it.

Notes: Highly useful, but completely ruins any chance of looking like a serious mafia boss while using it.

Cooldown: 67 seconds.

Old Mate, be honest with me. Is this a joke skill or an actual skill?

[System: Reckon it’s both, mate. Depends who you ask. Deploy that in the middle of a serious negotiation, and you’re never getting taken seriously again, not by anyone, not ever, but I’d pay to see it.]

Lyra clears her throat from the doorway. "Matt. Whatever you’re doing over there, can it wait? Because I would very much like to not be here when backup shows up."

"One sec." My gaze stayed locked on the panel, weighing the options.

Soap bombs are chaos with training wheels. Suicide drain is a party trick for a fight I’m nowhere near ready for. And the last one? It’s deeply unserious for a guy trying to build a criminal empire one hypnotised cop at a time.

Old Mate, lock in the first one.

[System: Hah, knew it. Knew you’d pick the dumbest one just to see what happens, you utter mad lad. Confirmed, fifty IP spent, fifty-three remaining. Congrats, you now got a skill that might blow your own head off.]

Worth it.

All three cops breathe slow and even, eyes glassy, minds somewhere very far away.

"Okay," I announced, turning to Lyra. "Now we go, "sorry I was picking a new skill."

She’s already moving, grabbing her jacket off the hook by the door, radio clipped back to her belt like nothing happened.

"How does that even work? What’d you even pick?"

"Tell you later."

"That’s not reassuring."

"Nothing about me is reassuring," I smirked, and slithered past her into the hall, hood still flared, scales still warm, feeling like the baddest thing this building has ever seen.

Behind us, Ham mutters something about pancakes in his sleep.

She pockets the bullet anyway, a souvenir I guess.

I hear the rest of the alley coming alive now: more footsteps, more shouting, radios all over. The word "snake" is travelling up the grapevine faster than common sense.

I keep walking, Lyra by my side, her hand warm on my tail.

She glances up at me, voice soft. "Was that scary?"

I think about it. The noise, the force, the absolute certainty that I was about to be deleted from the gene pool.

"Terrifying. I thought I was toast."

She laughs, pulls me close. "You looked cool, though."

"Always do."

I hum a little, old habit, and the sound echoes down the empty street. So are the hundred arseholes Old Mate warned me about.

So maybe on the outside I looked like a bulletproof sex god, but inside my brain it’s like:

HOLY SHIT, THAT WAS LOUD. I’M DEAD. THIS IS WHAT DYING FEELS LIKE. AM I DEAD? AM I BLEEDING? AM I JUST TOO STUPID TO KNOW I’M BLEEDING?

[System: Fuck me mate, i thought you got all tough, still a pussy.]

There’s still ringing in my ears, and I don’t even have external ears.

For a full thirty seconds after we round the corner, every muscle is locked up. Not from the bullet. From the existential terror of being almost deleted by a fat security guard with questionable aim i respect the hustle but also: trauma.

I sneak a look at my scales.

They’re fine.

No, actually they’re not fine. There’s a visible dent, like someone punched a Coke can and expected it to bounce back. It didn’t. There’s a little spark of pain if I flex, right in the centre. That spot is never going to stop itching.

I prod it with my tail tip. The flesh beneath is bruised, maybe even a bit cracked. I’ve seen enough internet fail videos to know this is how you get internal bleeding. It’s not leaking, so that’s good. But if they’d used a bigger gun? Or something not made by the lowest bidder?