The Secret Protector

Power-9:Melvin

The gas accumulated into our untruthful guardian. "I suppose a gas is no exception when shape-shifting is concerned." Clover stated. A sinister grin clearly announced that push had indeed come to shove. A hand of his began morphing into a gun and I realised that the only plan of attack was to...well, attack, bearing in mind that the really long and equally empty corridor granted no cover. I charged, tackling him down. "Run!" I cried as I saw another one of our assailants enveloping the room in his gaseous form. Clover dashed, dragging Daryl along. I performed my best in keeping the aim of both his hand-turned-guns off me, rapidly calculating means of escape. "If the other one turns into his human form, I have no chance." I reasoned. "But why doesn't he transform now itself. Why provide to me a window?" Absolute silence followed in my mind.

"Good God! I am such an imbecile!" It whirred again. "A gun doesn't have a brain. The beeping is for a timer. Evidently, this shape-shifting technology requires a pre-set time after which it reverts its user back to their original form because inanimate objects are not competent to make decisions of turning into something else." I also realised that the gun being used was smaller and less powerful than the ones that his assistants had transformed into, indicating that when the transformation was of only a part of the body, it couldn't be as extensive as that of the whole. Probably related to energy expenditure.

Nevertheless, my next few moves were obvious, to say the least. I tightened my grip on the guns and slowly began directing them toward my opponent's head. One of my fingers wrapped around the trigger.

From my peripheral vision I could see a dense mass of green behind me.

Terror flooded my enemy's eyes. He was cornered, could not possibly move away from me and was about to be shot through the head. Not surprisingly, he did what I had predicted he would in such a situation. His head turned into a metal leaving his body a lifeless mass of organic compounds with pistols for hands. "Checkmate." I said, wiping beads of perspiration off my forehead.

The entirety of his head had turned into iron or whatever metal it was, including his brain. A reflexive action to prevent death. Since it had to be strong enough to deflect a bullet in a distance as diminutive as it was, he probably preferred to not risk his life by merely coating his skin with it on the outside.

The timer, as I reckon, reacts to his thoughts. I was uncertain of what time he had set but even two minutes should be enough.

I turned around, ready to face my next opponent. The gas accumulated into him and he sprinted towards me. I picked up my last opponent's hand and shot directly at my new one's leg. A derogatory move perhaps but desperate times call for measures of a similar nature. He fell, writhing in pain and I dashed towards the door.

"Where do we go next?" asked Clover. "Protector HQ." "Yeah, I guess no place more secure exists." I glanced at Daryl. He seemed shaken but only mildly. I suppose a chase of this kind transpires only a time or two even in the life of a truly dynamic individual.
Not to mention the terrible mortal danger, enough to discomfort even myself. All those firearms are extremely unsettling, despite having undergone training to counter the same and I can only imagine the impact it must have had on the likes of Daryl.

"How'd you beat him?" Daryl broke the ice. "Tricked him into turning his brain into a pointless mass of metal. Shot the other in the leg." Daryl was left in awe. Then, his eyebrows furrowed. "What about the other two?" "I construct that they had transformed into something that would help direct the gas into a particular place by controlling the air draft." answered Clover, deeply engrossed in thought. "Yup." I agreed. "Can't have the gas disperse too much, otherwise he wouldn't be able to turn back." "I'm still really hungry though." Daryl replied. The mood lightened with a beaming smile on all our faces.

We had found a cab not far from our place of rest, no surprise considering that the location was still comfortably within the reaches of the city. Clover had my sunglasses with her and I was now wearing them. Three kids attired in only their pajamas, one of which was wearing sunglasses was truly a sight to behold. Not that anyone other than our driver could see it, considering the tinted windows. I found those surprising since I was fairly certain that having them was against the law.

Suddenly, a familiar click haunted me. I quickly looked over to its direction but a cold circular pipe greeted me, placed against my forehead. Our cab driver spoke into a microphone. "I've got them."...