Chapter 10

The monster's elongate limbs twitched and stuttered unnaturally toward the catboy like a clay sculpture in an old animation film. Without wasting time, Tom rushed and hid behind a mannequin, trying to put not only distance but also its cold plastic body between them. 

He could recognize the difference in speed, and it was a contest the catboy couldn't win, but he was betting all on his agility and maneuverability. The mixture of concrete platforms and plastic statues gave a fundamental edge. 

This refuge only lasted a second as the trunk swung toward his direction, making the artificial plastic body fly through the air and crash in a pile of its copies.

("Tsk . . . this got too weird too fast!") Tom had experience fighting humans, not monsters. His unit always had the luck of not being on those kinds of engagements. Maybe a super or two, but that was one of the main reasons why he survived the Egyplosis conflict; he had just been lucky to dodge normal lead bullets.

Another shot turned the night into day for an instant, the recoil of the gun hitting his shoulder as he was on the move again. Tom didn't even stand there to check if he had done some damage; there was no time for that.

The creature jerked sideways, dodging his shot, its movements becoming faster, erratic, and it flailed its limbs in the air as it kept pushing plastic dummies out of the way while Tom was running. 

Tom took a deep breath and jerked his shotgun again, a spent shell landing right next to him. He had managed to go around him, understanding that its vision was not the best or that it was having problems seeing in the dark. 

("Think, think, think . . .") He needed to analyze each possibility and come to a conclusion. Run or keep fighting. The corridor out of this room was too straight, too simple; it would make a mad dash between him and the monster, and it would win.

Another thunder roared out of the barrel of his shotgun. 

The creature shook for a second and then lunged again, its long and gnarly arms swiping through the air in a wide arc. Not aiming at him but making a circle, trying to hit anything near it. A change in patterns that could indicate desperation building up.

Tom rushed out of the way, weaving between the figures in a zigzag while keeping his head low with the creature hot on his trail. He was impressed by how well his body moved; there was almost no delay between his orders and his muscles, and his spatial awareness was perfect. The catboy hated to admit it, but he could understand why supers felt superior to normal humans.

It flailed its arms toward him, each strike just centimeters from touching his skin. Without any special durability perk; a single wrong movement, and it was all over. 

Mannequins flew all over the place, their plastic bodies raining over Tom while the monster charged. A secondary effect of the monster's mad and desperate charge gave the catboy enough evidence to confirm his theory. 

They only had contusion damage from the strikes; the plastic was bent and cracked, not melted or cut.

("I think . . . I got . . . it!") He exclaimed for himself since the tactic he had in mind was risky, but he needed to get a vital piece of information.

Tom turned around and used the second he had before the impact to his advantage. His tail coiled around the plastic head on the floor and threw it toward the monster. It just dodged out of the way without problems.

Then another piece of plastic flew toward it, an arm, then a leg, then another head. The monster stopped on its track to just avoid those projectiles, moving like a glitchy animation. Tom was just throwing trash nonstop at it as he confirmed another of his theories. He had missed almost all his shots.

It looked no different from when he first saw it, even if the details were blurry to him. The impact of his gun should have at least left a dent in its strange flesh. Then why did it seem to be damaged . . .

People really underestimated how noisy guns were; Tom almost made the same mistakes thanks to his unnatural, durable ears. 

He let his shotgun go and immediately took out his pistol. The catboy didn't even aim; he just made the 9mm bells of victory ring ten times. 

The sound waves traveled like sharp blades, striking the creature over and over, hitting with something that it couldn't dodge. It didn't cream because it couldn't, but its body was shaking like a plastic bag in the middle of a hurricane until eventually, it stopped moving.

It just crawled into a ball, as the final load of sonic damage was enough to fully suppress the abomination. 

There was only one way to end this creature, so without time, Tom began to beat it to death with the end of his shotgun. The test he made with the mannequins made clear that it was safe to touch that thing as long as it wasn't with any organic material.

With the unmistakable and familiar stench of gunpowder overpowering any other smell in the museum room, Tom made sure to claim his first kill as a hero. He was surprised at how soft it was, like hitting wet clay. 

[Congratulations! Plasticine Self Portrait was slain!]

[Tom gains:]

[Lesser cheetah speed: The user speed is increased to the point where they can be considered on the peak of what a normal human can have.]

Tom took a deep breath, already feeling his body changing in a second. "Ah . . . ah . . . that was close . . ." he mumbled and made sure to throw his shotgun away. The catboy didn't want to be near that soft clay, and after using it as a club, it was probably ruined. It was just easier to craft a new one.

He raised an eyebrow as the implications of his boon made him question something important.