The Undoing of Sidekicks | ✓

thirty two

thirty two

I HAVE A feeling an 'I-told-you-so' will be waiting for me back home.

Because the factory was not split up into an upper floor, a lower floor and a separate export bay. No — they'd chosen to go with the nice, modern open-floor plan. Beyond the export exits, a cavernous room awaited me — the entire inside of the factory had been scooped out, allowing for the two floors to become one giant pocket of space.

It stretched for a long while, just an endless swath of floor which rested beneath a massive amount of just ... nothing. The roof lay somewhere above, but it seemed increasingly distant.

The floor itself was covered with standard factory equipment — manufacturing lines, stations for packing and assembly, among others. I had no idea what most of them were used for, though I did spot empty glass vials stacked atop each other by one of the stations.

After noting all that, it took me another few seconds to note the activity surrounding the stations. Well — lack thereof. It seemed I'd ruffled their usual work-flow, what with bursting in through the side-entrance into their workspace.

Maybe they won't mind me. Maybe they'll think I'm just a colleague, or something.

The nearest passersby had stopped, regarding me with narrowed eyes for a few more seconds before reaching for a nearby object. As my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting inside of the factory, I didn't note that it was an automatic rifle until the woman in question had hefted it on her side, a finger on the trigger.

I flung myself aside and toward a pillar as the first shots went off.

If this is how you treat your colleagues, I'm calling HR.

Either way, it seemed my intrusion wasn't welcome. Which, to be fair, probably was a reasonable reaction when someone dressed in spandex burst into your illegal workspace, where you manufactured strange, highly volatile chemicals.

As the shots lagged, I risked a peek around the pillar. She'd advanced, moving closer to my position. The workers beyond the woman currently attempting to turn me into Swiss cheese had stopped their work, and a cacophony of screams had risen in place as they fled in swarms to the opposite end of the factory.

Save for the mass of people escaping, though, I could see a faction of humans heading towards us. They were all carrying varying types of weapons — rifles, handguns, you name it. The stuff that'd turn me into dust rather than Swiss cheese.

Mother of matter, I thought, heart beating. Sweat had swiftly coated the back of my neck, hair sticking to my skin as I heaved a breath. I'd have to take down the woman before I could even think of getting past the squadron of guards heading our way.

Come on, Leo. Prove yourself. You can it.

I drew another breath, fists clenching briefly, nails digging into my palms, before I forced myself to relax. With that, I sprung into action. My eyes flashed yellow as I morphed into a mix of particles, the bullets missing me as I phased from a human to a mass of sand. The woman let out a curse, momentarily stopping her shooting, before I shaped myself back into a human and lunged at her.

Knocking the automatic rifle out of her hands, I kicked it far away, sending it spinning into a dark corner. The woman, in the meanwhile, took this opportunity to land a punch to my cheekbone. A sharp ache ripped through me, the pain ringing through my skull. My focus disappeared as my eyes turned blurry, allowing the woman to send a well-directed knee into my gut.