No. 62 Claremond Street

2 // The Third Member

It's definitely Hedera helix. The way it's perfectly glued to the wall, coiling itself around the dead body. The same way it would around the pillars of Maven Academy. Nasty little buggers, they are, requiring no human assistance to thrive. It would take ages to get rid of them.

That's why the sports arena at Maven Academy had to be reconstructed. Tom hates the new one.

Not because they've removed the ocean-deep swimming pool, the permafrost pond and the Huygen cave range, but because Tom's parents won't be there, cheering him on as he would compete for the annual Challengers' Cup.

How on Earth did this happen? Tom wonders, finding himself inches away from the cocooned corpse. A slight creak echoes from one of the dingy spaces of No. 62.

He should be scared, like any other person when they'd see a dead body buried within the wall of their new home. Tom Banks would've been, if he hadn't seen something worse than this.

Here, the corpse looks like an Egyptian mummy, the green-black creeper covering every inch of decaying skin and cloth, their open eyes displaying a cloudy grey. Whereas back then, Tom puked, even fainted three times, when he had seen the two shriveled bodies at home. He could clearly recognize his parents' ashen faces.

Tom gazes down, at the scattered fragments of the wall before him, taking in a deep breath as the refreshing Stability serum courses through his veins. I must've bumped into the wall while de-transforming.

A sudden pain erupts from his left shoulder, a confirmation to his assumption, making him rub it; he notices the green-black ivy branch, mistaken for the oozy slime. He shrugs it off his shoulder, directing his gaze back to the corpse. Tom takes a step forward, overstretching his hand. There's no rotten smell now. Weird.

The ivy is slimy in his touch. It must be a few weeks old...we couldn't have known this. He raises his head, staring at the corpse's eyes, whispering, "Who are you? And who did this to you?"

He catches a glimpse of something, either on the leaves or what's left of the corpse when-

"Could you just step away from that, for God's sake!" a trembling voice yells from behind.

Tom exhales slowly, shaking his head. "There's nothing bad. It's completely covered."

"Urgh," Tony's voice responds. "Can't you get away from it? It's a dead body!"

Tom nods, accepting his brother's behavior. Tony's never seen a dead cockroach, let alone a dead human. "Okay, fine." The shapeshifter steps away, though his gaze lies on the corpse. Report to the police. He nods to himself. "Yeah, once I've recovered."

He turns around, expecting a knelt down Tony. But except for the blue handbag on the floor, there's nobody, nothing in the bare living room; if he doesn't count the spider dangling from its web in the top right corner.

"Tony," he calls, inching toward the blue handbag, scanning the wide room. Its walls are tainted, covered with numerous greyish blotches, surprisingly not of mold. "Tony?"

"I'm right here," his brother's voice responds, as if standing a few steps ahead of him. But there's nothing between Tom and the front wall, save the handbag.

"Stop joking and come here," Tom says, glancing around and peering through the open door on his left, at the dark corridor. Tony wouldn't be there. He turns back. "The corpse won't eat you or anything."

"Why are you looking there? I'm here," Tony's voice calls.

Tom furrows his brows. No way. If he were invisible, then I can still- He stops, realizing when a gush of cool energy settles within him. My powers...the serum's weakened it. And his clothes would adjust to his powers...But still... He shakes his head. "I'm serious, Tony."