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Polymo

cones710 Nov 17th, 2019 110 Never
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  1. *CLANG!*
  2.  
  3. “…uugh…I don’t wanna get up…ten more minutes…”
  4.  
  5. At least, that’s what I wanted to say. Instead, a bunch of bubbles came out of my mouth, and a nasty-tasting swig of water rushed in to replace the air.
  6.  
  7. I feel like this isn’t going to be a very normal day.
  8.  
  9. …Wait. What does that even mean? I’m not really quite sure what a ‘normal day’ even means for me. Would I be heading to a school? Work? Let’s see…I am…I am…  
  10.  
  11. Umm…shoot. Who am I anyways? That’s probably something I should know, right?
  12.  
  13. Well, first things first; I should figure out where I am. It’s dark- like PITCH BLACK dark, and I seem to be sitting on a flat surface of- *clang clang*- solid metal, by the feel of it. I wonder…  
  14.  
  15. *clang clang clang* -I continue to knock around the nearby area.
  16.  
  17. Yup, I’m in a box; there’s metal on all sides around me. Guess that explains why I can’t see squat.
  18.  
  19. This…isn’t looking promising- I’m stuck in the dark in a big, metal crate or something, and OH YEAH, I’m completely underwater and haven’t breathed in who knows how long- there’s definitely something fishy about that. At the very least, while I was feeling around, I did find what seems to be the crate’s opening; only problem is, it’s chained shut with a padlock around it. Still, it’s pretty much the only thing worth noting in here, so I should probably check it out.
  20.  
  21. It’s still too dark to see much of anything, but just by feeling it I can already tell that this is a REALLY good lock. Solid casing, rustproof, and just judging by the size and shape of it, probably has like EIGHT pins, a replaceable core with a paracentric keyway, and…
  22.  
  23. …Y’know, the fact I know all that kinda makes me unsure I even want to find out what my hobbies are.
  24.  
  25. Bottom line is, even if I had some tools on me, this lock is near-unpickable- I’m not getting out of this thing without a key. Where could I find me one of those…? Hmm…
  26.  
  27. Oh, duh, I’ll just turn my hand into one. Crossing the middle and index fingers on my left hand, I slim them down, and fuse them into a single small prod. Feeling my way to the keyhole, I slip in the fingers and let it ooze softer, molding it into all the little nooks and crannies of the mechanism and pressing down on each pin. It’s a little hard to hear the click given how muffled the water makes everything sound, but the lock releases all the same and the chains begin to rattle loose. I remove my fingers, morph them back to normal, kick open the doors, and float my way out into the brighter water outside.
  28.  
  29.  
  30. …What in the world did I just do?
  31.  
  32. Seriously, I can’t help but feel like that’s not a normal thing for someone to be capable of, but I just…did it…somehow. Why would I have even thought to try something like that? I mean, I’m not complaining; if I couldn’t have done whatever I just did, I’d still be stuck in that thing. I look down at my hand and try tugging on my fingers. Sure enough, they stretch longer and longer, growing out smoothly until I let go, causing them snap shorter, back to how they were before.
  33.  
  34. Yeah…definitely not a normal day.
  35.  
  36. I think the next step is to get out of this river…or lake…or whatever this is. Hopefully I can try getting a look at myself when I get to the surface. I could just swim, but I might as well see if I can’t put that weird morphing stuff I seem to be able to do to good use. It felt really natural when I did it the first time, so it seems like I just focus on what I want to do and-
  37.  
  38. WHOOOOOAAA!!
  39.  
  40. My head zips off of my shoulders, rocketing higher and higher up towards the surface. For a split second, it feels like I might have blown it clear off my body, but as the water around me gets clearer and brighter, I can see that my neck is still there, spooling out wildly like the rope of a pulley with a huge weight at the other end.
  41.  
  42. I breach the surface, and momentarily get a good view of the surrounding area. Shore on this side…shore on the other side…huh…guess it was a lake after all. I spot a boat sailing off in the distance with with a hoisted anchor strewn across the deck- that must have been what caused the noise that woke me up. Other than that, there’s not much around other than some dry, scrubby forest and a lot of rocks.
  43.  
  44. However, my chance to look around is quickly interrupted by a sudden feeling of dropping as my long neck topples over and collapses towards the shore. I see the ground rush towards me at breakneck speeds, and before I can really do anything about it, my head is planted solidly under a foot of gravel. It didn’t really hurt that much- or at all, really, but the shock of it was still enough to leave me dazed for a few seconds. Tugging with my neck, I pop my head out of the hole it’s in and my vision goes dizzy for a few seconds as it decompresses from its crumpled-up state. I cough a few times, clearing the many, many yards of my throat of a couple small pebbles and few gallons of lake water.
  45.  
  46. “…Bleh. That coulda gone better.”
  47.  
  48. That’s what my voice sounds like? It’s normal enough, I suppose. What I really need to see is what I look like; just gotta reel in the rest of my body first.
  49.  
  50. Should be aaaaany second now.
  51.  
  52. …no? Still not here yet? Man, I really must have gone bonkers with the neck-stretching.
  53.  
  54. Ah, there it is. Once the rest of me has fully flopped ashore, I stand myself up, pick up my head, and draw my neck all the way back in before heading to the edge of the water to check my reflection.
  55.  
  56. Well, there I am. Pretty average height…we’ll see how long THAT stays the case, kinda noodly arms and legs, and a darn spiffy hairdo if I do say so myself- no amount of waterlogging can ruin a pomp like that!
  57.  
  58. That being said, my clothes do seem a little weird. Style-wise, they’re nothing special; regular red crop top and some soft dark pants, but something about them just feels off. They don’t feel UNCOMFORTABLE or anything, just kind of…clingy, which one would usually expect given that I had just been underwater, but the thing is, there doesn’t seem to be a drop left on them. Actually, now that I think about it, I dried off really quickly in general; whatever squishy stuff I’m made of that allows for all this shapeshiftery must be waterproof to boot.
  59.  
  60. I quickly put two and two together.
  61.  
  62. Finding what seems to be the seam of my top in the middle of my torso, I wedge my fingers in, hoping to see if I can’t confirm my suspicions. I pull it open and…now there’s a giant hole in my chest.
  63.  
  64. I stick a hand through the hole, wiggling my fingers on the other side in a bit of a state of disbelief. The same rosy colors of my clothes coat the insides of the hole, making it quite clear that both it and I are cut from the same cloth, malleability-wise. There doesn’t seem to be much inside of me except for more…me. With a simple thought, the “fabric” swells back into shape, sealing up the big hole.
  65.  
  66. So, I’m a pink, red, and person-colored wad of gum with a memory problem. That…really doesn’t really answer any questions- probably raises more, now that I think about it. What do I still have to go on?
  67.  
  68. Could check the box, I suppose. With my powers, it probably wouldn’t even be too hard to drag it up; maybe there's something on it? Not really a big fan of having to dive right back in there, but maybe I could give myself some fins to make it go a little faster…
  69.  
  70. …Or I could just turn my arm into the world's largest fishing pole, which I’ve already gone and finished doing while my mind was wandering. At the end of the long, sturdy pole attached to my shoulder, a thinner, stringier length of arm dangles my hand just above the water’s surface, where it gives me a thumbs up.  
  71.  
  72. Okay- probably not the first thing I would have tried, but hey, whatever works, works, right? Just morphing on autopilot does get a lot of the tough decision-making out of the way after all. Letting the “line” of my arm out even longer, I submerge my hand and let it sink deep into the lake. A few seconds later, I feel my hand touch down on the familiarly hard surface of the box, and I stretch my fingers wide enough to grab the whole thing from the top. That, however, was the easy part- now how am I actually supposed to get this thing out? It’s made of metal, was big enough to hold me in it, and is full to the brim with water- it’s gotta weigh waaaay over a ton at the very le-
  73.  
  74. Without really thinking, I’ve already reeled my arm in; my single hand lifting the massive shipping crate over the water.
  75.  
  76. Huh. That was…quite easy, actually; maybe it wasn’t as heavy as I thought it would be. I morph my arm back into a, well…arm, and whip it back towards me, flinging the box over my head, where it lands behind my head with a massive thud that shakes the trees and sends a small flock of birds darting away. No, that box wasn’t light- I’m just really, REALLY strong, I suppose. Add that to the list of “cool things I can apparently do”.
  77.  
  78. Anyways, the box. Anything worth noting? There’s…something written here, engraved into the metal itself as if someone took a big chisel to it.
  79.  
  80. xoq
  81. ʇno-ǝɯıʇ
  82. ǝɥʇ
  83.  
  84.  
  85. Now that doesn’t make any sense; is it in a different language or something? Am I not reading it the right w-…oh. Grabbing hold of my cheeks, I turn my face around like a steering wheel, flipping it upside down.
  86.  
  87. “The time-out box”, huh? My face snaps back into place the moment I let go, letting the world go right-side-up again.
  88.  
  89. I turn away from the box, thinking about what I just read could mean. Childish name aside, what that had to say kinda has me spooked. Did I really get locked up because of something I did? I’d certainly hope not, though given what I seem to be capable of…I’ll just assume the best for now. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding.
  90.  
  91. Looking around all the other sides of the crate doesn’t give me any pointers, so I decide that it’s high time I just wander off. There is that boat way over there on the water, but I get the feeling that having the boat’s owner see some crazy girl stretching herself over hundreds of feet of water towards them isn’t the best first impression I could make.
  92.  
  93. Instead, I wander off into the dry woods, which turn out to be far smaller than I initially realized. Beyond that, there was a desert, and farther still…is that…?
  94.  
  95. Yes! A highway! Signs of civilization! I practically bounce my way towards it on my springy legs. Heck, maybe I should actually just go the whole way and turn them into springs; I’d get some real good stride if I did that! But…no. Realizing something, I dig my heels into the sand and skid to a stop.
  96.  
  97. Given that nobody has really been around since I popped out of that lake, I’ve been strolling around without a care in the world, letting my body stay wild and wiggly, which just feels the most natural. But given that I’m likely to start actually running into people out here in the open, maaaaybe I should actually concern myself with looking like an actual person; joints, proper limb lengths- all that good stuff. It’s honestly a bit of a nuisance, but probably still for the best that I don’t draw that much attention to myself- at least until I figure out what in the world is going on.
  98.  
  99. Trudging slowly, I walk the rest of the distance to the highway, my mind wandering as it loses interest with the rather dull surroundings. A gust of wind snaps me out of it, though, as a car whizzes by only a few feet in front of me. I cheat just a little bit and telescope my eyes out to get a better look at it as it zooms off into the distance. It’s way sleeker than any car I’ve ever seen before- must belong some rich guy.
  100.  
  101. While looking around with my zoomed-in vision, I spot a single building just down the road a ways. Looks as good a place as any to check out, and I think it’s either that or hitchhike at this point given that I can’t really see anything else around.
  102.  
  103. It takes me nearly another hour to get to the distant building. I could have certainly gotten there more quickly if I used my powers in any way, but there were way too many cars speeding by for me to do so- all as flashy as the first one that drove by, curiously enough. Crossing the building’s small parking lot, empty save for one car that I assume is the owner’s, I finally get a chance to read the big sign that stood right next to the entrance.
  104.  
  105. LAST STOP CONVENIENCE STORE!
  106.  
  107.  
  108. A smaller sign hung underneath it.
  109.  
  110. - LOCATION OF THE HISTORIC PINK GOO ALIEN INVASION OF 1964!
  111.  
  112.  
  113. Historic, huh? Well I certainly haven’t heard of it- though that’s not saying much given I don’t even know my own name. Although if I were to wager a guess, it’s probably just some nonsense the owner made up to try and draw people in. It’s usually the sign of someone who isn’t quite the most uptight when it comes to running an organized business…and people like that tend to leave valuable stuff just laying around with nobody to watch it…
  114.  
  115. No. Stop that. Bad me. I’m really not liking the fact that those are my first impressions on the place.  
  116.  
  117. The sound of an engine behind me grabs my attention as a car pulls into the lot. Yet another space-age looking deal- I must be in a wealthy…desert…I dunno, I got nothing. A big, tall, mean-looking guy steps out once it parks, and walks up to the front door next to me, not even acknowledging my presence at first. I give him a little wave.
  118.  
  119. “Heya! I was wondering if you could help me…”
  120.  
  121. I trail off as he turns to look at me, a scowl on his face. He doesn’t say anything, but gives a short glance at the top of my head before chuckling and walking indoors.
  122.  
  123. YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST LAUGH AT MY HAIR? OHH, I’d be ready to give him a piece of my mind if it wasn’t for the fact I’m trying to keep a low profile. I relax and wiggle my arms limberly about for a moment, trying to calm myself down before going and opening the door.
  124.  
  125. Once I’m in the store, I find that Jerkface McGee and I are the only ones there save the owner, who's kicked back in a chair with his face buried in a newspaper behind the counter. As I suspected, there’s a lot of cheap junk lying around- bumper stickers and little alien toys; nothing really useful. A snack aisle in the corner, however, grabs my attention. I’m not quite sure what my body needs when it comes to food given that I probably haven’t eaten for I don’t even know how long, but hungry or not, a big ol’ bag of chips sounds GREAT right about now.
  126.  
  127. I duck down behind the aisle and check out the selection. There’s a good amount of variety, but they’re all REALLY pricey; I vaguely recall them only costing a quarter…that reminds me, how much cash do I have, anyways?
  128.  
  129. Trying to check the “pockets” on my pants causes my hand to fuse into my hip. I pull it back out and mold my fingers back into shape. Well then- forgot about the whole fact that don’t really have ANYTHING on me. There goes that plan.
  130.  
  131. But maybe I could just sneak a bag or two out? It wouldn’t be hard; the owner’s occupied after all. I could probably even hollow out a hole in my body to hide them in…
  132.  
  133. “This is a stickup! Empty the register!”
  134.  
  135. A sudden commotion from across the building draws my attention away from the shelf, so I pop one eye off and stick it on my palm before flinging the hand over the top of the aisle to get a peep. Seems that the same guy who glared at me earlier seems to be one a mission to one-up his general unpleasantness, and is now pointing a pistol right at the old man cowering behind the counter.
  136.  
  137. “Sir, please! This is a historic landmark!”
  138.  
  139. “Nobody believes that alien junk! Now open it up! And when you’re done, I want everything in the back room as well- I’m counting to ten!”
  140.  
  141. …I’m having the weirdest sense of deja vu right now.
  142.  
  143. But, beyond that, I need to do something about this. I set the bags of chips back in the shelf. Something bad is happening, and I clearly have the power to stop all of it; I can’t just sit here and do nothing! I may not know who I am, or even WHAT I am, but I do know what has to be done.
  144.  
  145. After popping my eye back in place, I relax myself, letting my malleable body sink into a loose, comfortable state. The colors of my clothes melt together, becoming smoother and glossier as I stretch them out over my arms and legs, covering them with flashy pinks and reds. I shift the design about a bit, trying to get a look I like. Should I expose the midriff? Go for a sporty angle? Maybe if I just shorten the top right here I could- whoops! Better put those away…
  146.  
  147. “…five…”
  148.  
  149. Rats, he’s not giving me much of a chance to think this through. Looks like I’ll stick with a simple bodysuit. To finish the whole getup off, I pinch off a small bit of the pink part off my sleeves, mash it up in my hands, and smear it across the top half of my face, squashing it into a domino mask. I’m able to catch a short glimpse of myself in the glass door of a refrigerator, and am pretty happy with the results- bright and colorful, as to be expected of a superhero, right?
  150.  
  151. “…four…”  
  152.  
  153. With little time to spare, I leap over the first shelf, tucking my arms and legs into a near-perfect ball before I hit the ground in order to ricochet over the next two. I land with a plop right behind the shoplifter, and unroll myself back into a standing position.
  154.  
  155. “…three…”
  156.  
  157. He somehow hasn’t heard me, so I use the chance to make sure my first hit really counts. I let the mass in my hand swell up, growing larger and larger until it’s a good bit larger than my head. I then round it out, losing my fingers as it becomes roughly spherical.
  158.  
  159. “…two…”      
  160.  
  161. My arm lengthens and coils upon itself, winding into a tight spring that I pack down with as much tension as I can muster until it’s straining to snap free and send my orb-fist flying.
  162.  
  163. “One.” I say, tapping him on the shoulder with the other long-but-still-arm-shaped arm.
  164.  
  165. Startled, he spins around, firing his gun four times blindly in my general direction. Three of the shots whiff harmlessly off to the side, but one catches me right in the gut. It slams in with a ton of force, presses into my stretchy skin…and just stops, losing all of its momentum before sliding out of the hole it made and plinking to the floor. Y’know, I kind of just assumed that was what would happen, but man would I have looked dumb if it turned out I wasn’t actually bulletproof.
  166.  
  167. The shoplifter doesn’t have much time to process the fact that he’s dealing with a superhuman opponent, however, and before he can make any further moves, I release the spring in my arm, sending my blunt hand careening towards him. The arm stays dead on target, making a beeline straight for his face…and then stops dead in its tracks. Holding the massive bludgeon a just few inches from his face, a tiny fist on a tinier arm zips out of the sphere’s end and bops him over the head, causing him to crumple to the floor, out cold.
  168.  
  169. I had come to the realization mid-swing that, seeing how I had just carried over a ton with one arm earlier, hitting a normal person with a hand the size of a watermelon miiight just be a tad over the top. Shaping the arm back to normal, fingers and all, I poke the guy on the cheek. Yeah, even with the small hit, he’s not going to be getting up for a good couple minutes. I look over to the store owner, who had ducked down behind the counter as soon as I leaped in.
  170.  
  171. “Hey, mister, you might want to call the police; I don’t know what to do with this guy.”
  172.  
  173. The man shakily stands up from his hiding spot and walks over to the other side, finally getting a look at me for the first time.
  174.  
  175. “Thank heavens you showed up! I would have been a goner for sure if it wasn’t for- nooooo…no no no.”
  176.  
  177. His expression turns stern as he begins wagging a finger at me. I suddenly feel as if I’m not wanted here.
  178.  
  179. “…did I do something wrong?”  
  180.  
  181. “Don’t play dumb with me, punk- I could recognize that ridiculous hairstyle anywhere! No way am I going to let myself be known as the person who got robbed by Unlucky Penny twice!”
  182.  
  183. This is not the reception I was hoping for. Call me crazy, but I thought that maybe wearing a costume and saving people with superpowers would warrant some kind of thanks, or admiration, not…this.
  184.  
  185. “Listen dude, I don’t know who you’re talking about. Are you sure you aren’t confusing me with someone else?”
  186.  
  187. “You were there! During the invasion- I know it was you! You were in the middle of sticking me up…the alien came…you tried stabbing at it…and then it ran off- with you AND one of MY shipping crates!”
  188.  
  189. …crud. There’s no way that’s a coincidence. He may actually be onto something.
  190.  
  191. “Well, even if that’s the case, I don’t want to rob you- I just saved your store! See, I got all these superpowers and stuff!” Flexing my capabilities, I stretch one of my arms out and unhook a phone from the wall before handing it to him. “Soooo~ if you could just call the police, I’ll be off on my merry way…though some free snacks would be appreciated if you’re looking for a way to thank m-”
  192.  
  193. “You- Y-you’re all stretchy…just like it was…that must mean…”
  194.  
  195. That, more than anything else, catches my ear. Does he actually know what happened to me? I keep quiet and let him continue, hoping whatever he has to say might finally clue me in on whatever lead up to my…well, my everything, I suppose.
  196.  
  197. “Yeah, yeah, I see your plot…clearly you and that alien have teamed up, and have been planning on how to rob me AGAIN for the past fifty years! Well, you’ll have to do better than that- you’re completely unarmed!”
  198.  
  199. My mouth dangles open in disbelief.
  200.  
  201. “What. That doesn’t even make any-”
  202.  
  203. I try to start explaining how stupid that theory is, but by then the owner had hoisted a fire extinguisher from the wall and began charging me with it, shouting that I “never should have come here” or something. I’m…really not sure what he’s hoping to accomplish with this.        
  204.  
  205. After a short, squishy *whack*, everything goes dark and quiet. Did…did he just manage to actually do something to me when a bullet couldn’t? I can still feel my arms and legs; perhaps he managed to somehow knock my head square off my shoulders…Patting around the top of my torso where a head and neck ought to be, I feel a small bump and tug it out of curiosity. As soon as I do, I regain my sight just as quickly as I had lost it, my head having been plucked out from the center of my torso from the tip of my hairdo, popping from a hole between my shoulders like someone putting on a sweater that’s a few sizes too small.
  206.  
  207. I quickly notice the store owner strewn on the ground in front of me, a small lump on his forehead. I don’t think he was expecting me to be nearly as springy as I was when he started swinging that thing around. Looks like he won’t be getting up for a while either, leaving me alone in the store with two unconscious dudes and a whole lot of information to unpack.
  208.  
  209. It would be so easy to just call what the owner said as nothing but garbage. Common knowledge says aliens aren’t real- my memory only really extends back a few hours and even I know that.
  210.  
  211. But then again…common knowledge would also rule out pretty much everything I’ve done today. Given that I look like something that stepped right out of the funny pages, I’m not entirely sure I’m good authority to judge what’s realistic or not. Plus, it does all add up a bit too well, doesn’t it? Sticky-fingered shoplifter with a rap sheet as long as her hairstyle? Sure sounds a heck of a lot like me. Weird blob of shapeshifting goo that comes out of nowhere and helps people?
  212.  
  213. Yeah…that’s a pretty good description of me as well.
  214.  
  215. With nothing else to go on, I run over what the old man said over and over in my mind, trying to see if it rings any bells- and to my surprise, it does. For a few seconds, I see a swirl of colors- some far-off plane I no longer understand, but know once was home. More flashes run through my mind- memories I can only faintly recall, drawn out from forgetfulness by the store owner’s accounts. I remember a flash of light, and suddenly, I was…here. There was yelling, confusion, and in the midst of it all, some being had sunk something very sharp into my body. I didn’t know where I had ended up, or what this creature in front of me was, but I knew that it meant ill will, and I had to do something about it.
  216.  
  217. So I did. I stole the being away, and put it in a place where it could no longer harm another. Yet even still, I sympathized with it, and hoped that perhaps it could change its ways; and if that meant fusing together with it, that was a price I was happy to pay.
  218.  
  219. Fifty years is a long time, and over the course of it, we…it…I…simply forgot who I was, perfectly content with dozing off for years on end until my eventual rude awakening.
  220.  
  221. I rub at my forehead, peeling off my mask and absorbing it back into my hand.
  222.  
  223. That’s…a lot to take in, but it does answer all my questions- why I have these powers, why I was in that box, why I think the way I do. The only real question left to ask is “what next”?  
  224.  
  225. I could easily go back to how things were, and I won’t deny that the option sounds tempting; I could make quite the pretty penny with these powers if I did. Yet, at the same time, I enjoyed what I just did. It felt good to be able to help someone in need of it. I may not have been the…nicest…person before, but maybe…maybe this is the chance to turn it all around.  
  226.  
  227. With a grin, the mask sprouts back onto my face.
  228.  
  229. Hoisting the would-be crook over my shoulders, I step back outside, and prop him up on a bench by the door. I grab his gun, stretch my fingers into a slingshot, and launch the weapon into low orbit, far from anywhere it could do any damage. Two minutes later, I’m strolling out of the lot, happily munching on a bag of chips generously funded from the shoplifter's wallet. I take one last look towards the bench where he still sits, a piece of paper reading “arrest me please!” taped to his shirt.
  230.  
  231. Stepping into the middle of the street, I finish my snack, and grab hold of a stop sign in one hand, while the other reaches for a speed limit indicator nearly thirty or so feet away. I take a slow walk backwards, stretching both limbs tighter and tighter, until I finally let them both release, slinging myself into the sky. From there, it’s a matter of flattening one hand into a large sheet over my head to send me lightly drifting through the clouds, ready to go wherever the winds take me and begin to do some good wherever I can.
  232.  
  233. Although, that being said…maybe there is one thing I should do first before I leave…  
  234.  
  235.  
  236.  
  237. “…and that was Rod with the weather. This just in- there are reports of a large fire on Oak Street being put out by one single, unknown individual wearing what seems to be a superhero outfit!”
  238.  
  239. “That’s right Conner. Not just that, eyewitnesses are claiming that this costumed do-gooder actually had the powers to back up the appearance! We so far don’t have any visuals on the- what? Oh, here we go- someone has managed to send in some captured footage of her in the act! We’ll put it up in just a second folks…”
  240.  
  241. Head spinning, the convenience store owner came to and pushed himself off the floor, waking up to the sound of the local news channel playing on the television that hung from the ceiling. Onscreen, the reporter’s desk cut away to some shaky, vertical footage of a burning townhouse taken from a phone. A voice came from out of frame.
  242.  
  243. “Stand back everyone! I can help!”
  244.  
  245. Taking one exaggeratedly long step into frame, the same pink-and-red suited girl that had just been in his store made her entrance, waving to the panicking onlookers on the side of the street with a wide grin. With one hand taking on the curve of a large wrench, she opened the pipe of a nearby fire hydrant before plugging it up with the very same arm. Confused yelling could be heard around the person recording.
  246.  
  247. “What’s going on?”
  248.  
  249. “Is that woman nuts? She could get killed!”
  250.  
  251. “Never mind that- did nobody else just notice that her arm was a wrench!?”
  252.  
  253. Ignoring the commotion, the plucky heroine focused on the task at hand, raising her other arm towards the blaze. The pressure of gallons upon gallons of water began building up against her stopper of a hand, but before it could do any damage to the hydrant, holes opened up in both of her palms, and the water shot straight through her, piping through her body and jetting out towards the building. A great deal of smoke obscured the camera, and the loud sounds of crashing and crumbling caused the recording’s audio to crackle. By the time the footage was clear again, the fire had been extinguished, but the entire front wall had toppled forward.
  254.  
  255. The crowd murmured in concern, wondering if the mysterious rescuer had been caught in the wreckage, but after a few moments, her head slipped out from between the debris on a long neck that was paper-thin but otherwise no worse for wear. The crowd cheered, and the woman gave one last smile before the footage cut back to the reporter’s desk.
  256.  
  257. “Wow, there’s something you don’t see every day! Our reporters are currently trying to get in touch with the seemingly malleable superhero, who wandered off soon after the incident…”
  258.  
  259. The store owner turned off the TV. There was no sign of the man who had held him at gunpoint or the woman who claimed to have rescued him anywhere. He checked the shelves, but nothing of note seemed to be missing.
  260.  
  261. “Hrmph- musta scared them off.”
  262.  
  263. A gleam caught his eye from the other side of one of the store’s windows. Something metallic was out in the parking lot. Curiously wary, he walked out the front door. Slightly dented and covered with decades of rust, a large shipping crate lay atop the asphalt, and a new message lay engraved on one of its sides.
  264.  
  265. Thanks for letting me borrow this!  
  266. -♡ Polymo
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