Snippet #1387841

Zenko toed the body in front of him with his boot, surprised at the outcome of his little experiment. The man’s blood pooled across the tile of the convenience store, the back of his head missing, the barrel of the gun still in his mouth. Zenko hadn’t though the arrival of a police squad would push the man to commit suicide, but what was done was done. With a grimace he stepped over the body to look the cashier in the eye. Though direct contact wasn’t needed, it would make the memory stay longer. It took him little time to construct the idea that the man had come in waving his gun about, shouting about his kids, before he shot both the camera and himself. Carefully he laid it over the memory containing his own image, hiding the fact that he had been there. Once he had implanted the memory he stepped back over the body with his gallon of milk and headed for the door. As he walked past a stand, he reached out a nonchalant hand to grab a bag of chips. The cashier owed him his life after all, what was the harm in leaving without paying for his milk and chips? Besides, stealing wasn’t the worst thing he had done today.

The fox’s apartment was close to the convenience store. He hated this city, with its smells and people. He didn’t know why he stayed when all he wanted to do was burn it to the ground then return to his forest. But foxfire didn’t work like that – you could only target one creature per tail… which meant that he was never going to be able to burn down more than one household at a time. And that would take forever.

Zenko felt his steps slow and he looked around groggily. He plodded on more, his feet growing heavier with each step. The idea that someone had drugged him entered his mind as he slumped against a brick wall. He grasped for his power, desperate to throw up an illusion – any illusion, but it slipped through his grasp like water. Darkness creeped from the edges of his vision then everything went black.

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Zenko awoke to hear people talking. He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying yet, but there was defiantly more than one voice. He kept his eyes closed and did a mental check of his body. He seemed unharmed, he didn’t even ache. After a moment he realized he was completely human – drugs tended to make his lose control and change back partway. He steadied his breathing and inhaled deeply, trying to determine through smell and sound how many people were in the room and what they planned to do with him.