Limitless Evolution As a Snake

I shudder.

Lyra is watching me, concern all over her face. "You’re sure you’re okay?"

"Peachy," I lied. "Didn’t even hurt."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You’re lying."

"Nope."

She gives me the look. The look that says she can hear my pulse with her elf senses, and it’s currently doing the can-can.

I try to play it off, but my next slither wobbles.

She sidles up, slips her hand under my coil, and finds the dent immediately. "That’s not supposed to be there."

"Battle scar," I teased. "Chicks dig it."

She pulled her hand back as if the dent had burned her. "Are you going to moult it out?"

I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe?

What if the new scales grow in soft, and the next bullet goes straight through?

Is this like losing a baby tooth? The new one is never quite as strong.

[System: Oi. Not to stress ya, but the System’s giving you a fifteen per cent chance of catastrophic failure on next impact. Maybe don’t go standing in front of guns for a bit, eh?]

I glare at nothing.

You could have mentioned that earlier.

[System: Yeah, nah. You were on a roll. Didn’t want to interrupt your hero moment.]

Thanks, I guess.

Lyra watches me argue with the air, which is something she should be more concerned about, honestly.

I do a quick body scan. Hood? Not shredded. Dignity? None to begin with, so no loss.

What I have is fear. The real kind. The kind that makes my coils tighten until they ache, the kind that screams *hide*.

I want to go back to worrying about mutant rats. I want someone else to handle this.

But then Lyra’s thumb traces the dent again, soft, like she wants to smooth it out herself.

"Her thumb pressed into the dented scales. "You’re not invincible, you know."

"Never claimed to be."

"Maybe just... don’t let them shoot you next time?"

I want to say yes. I want to promise. But I know myself, and so does she.

"I’ll try," I sigh, and I mean it.

She leans in, her forehead cool against my scales. Her scent—clean, sharp, worried—fills my senses. "If you die, I’ll kill you."

My tongue flicked out, tasting the air between us. "Mutually assured destruction. Very healthy."

She laughs, just a little.

[System: Oi, just FYI, those coppers are regrouping. You’ve got about five minutes before round two, and this time they’re bringing the big toys. Reckon you might want to leave the area.]

"Let’s go, I’m feeling like a target."

We slither-walk into the next tunnel, blending into the pipes and shadows. My mind is still looping the bullet impact, replaying the metallic smack, the adrenaline rush, the realisation that I could have died for real.

But I’m alive, I’m not stopping, and if they want to bring out the heavy artillery, I’ll just have to get heavier.

As we turn the corner, Lyra catches my tail in her hand.

"Her grip tightened on my tail. "You’re not going to run from this, are you?"

I want to. God, I want to.

We barely make it three blocks before they send another squad.

Not even proper cops, this time. Just a "Cleaners" team, three in tactical vests, helmets, black gloves, the kind you see in old documentaries dragging protestors off the street. No badges. No warning. Just a hard left out of a service tunnel.

"Lyra’s breath hitched. "Shit." No time to hide.

They’re already aiming.

First volley cracks over our heads. Real guns, real bullets—none of that rubber "public order" shit. The rounds spray concrete chunks off the pillar, and the sound is so loud it actually makes my tongue hurt.

I drop flat, Lyra dives behind a trash can that’s maybe one molecular layer away from becoming a trash pancake.

Is this it? Is this how you die twice in the same lifetime?

[System: Not unless you’ve gone proper soft, bud. There’s only three of ’em. Watch the left one, she’s packing darts.]

I look left. Sure enough, the smallest Cleaner’s got a wrist-dart launcher, blue-tipped. Tranq or poison, but either way not my problem.

Instinct takes over. I don’t slither, I launch. The world blurs into a stream of motion, fast, slow, then fast again as I close the distance.

The first Cleaner tries to track me. I go for the ankle, because why not, and hit it hard enough that his whole leg folds backwards. He screams high and panicked, a sound that doesn’t fit his body at all and then I coil up his thigh and start squeezing.

Hard.

It’s not a Hollywood choke-out. It’s brutal and instant. The guy’s femur pops like an old broomstick under my scales. He goes limp before his finger even twitches on the trigger.

Bleh gross.

I’m not proud. But I’m not sorry, either.

Number two reacts with the grace of a drunk toddler: he turns and fires blind, straight into his own guy’s thigh. I barrel into his chest, headbutt him in the gut, and then I just crush him.

I don’t even know what I’m doing, except that I want him to stop moving, stop shooting, stop breathing so fucking loud.

There’s a crunch.

Then quiet.

I look down. Both are down. One’s eyes are bulging out, the other’s just boneless, drooling into the concrete.

Was that easy?

Was that me?

My tail’s vibrating. I can’t stop it. Every muscle is twitching like I just mainlined four energy drinks and a live rat. The taste of adrenaline is so strong it’s all I can smell.

[System: your like a puppy, not a good look.]

Lyra shouts from cover "Behind you!"

The last Cleaner the dart one, is already on me. She’s smaller, meaner, and has these weird cat ears sticking out from under her helmet. She’s got a stun baton in one hand, and her teeth are bared like she wants to take a bite out of my tail.

She’s fast.

She’s not faster than me.

I drop low, sweep with my tail, and knock her feet out. She lands on her ass and, to her credit, rolls instantly and fires a dart into my midsection.

I feel it and oh fuck iIt burns.

But also? I don’t care. I’m running so hot the sedative probably just makes me horny.

[System: USE YOUR BUBBLES YOU DUMB CUNT.]

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