Tobias Nartec Morph

A new face. New Nartec. Carrying a mace, an ancient, medieval club. Like Sir Fishalot.

Hah-hah-hah . . . what?

He looked at me.

Then he slammed the butt of the mace into Naca's ribs. Naca went down, sinking with magical slowness past my face.

A dreamy, upward swing caught the next Nartec on the chin. The third one turned and ran.

I heard a door slam. Heard a wheel spin.

Then the mace-wielding Nartec was back. He was back, but not the same, anymore. His rubbery, blue skin was now covered in a spreading pattern that looked a lot like feathers.

(...)

It took several minutes for my head to clear. By then Tobias had morphed back to the red tailed hawk.

There was loud banging on the door of the operating room.

"Tobias? Nice to see you, man."