He was deceptively fast as a blob, but he needed a shape. Emma's resistance was slowing him down. She continued to shout and tumble inside of him.
His form changed, all while keeping his attention on the men gaining ground on them. Lifting Emma above him, powerful legs took shape, a sleek body and long mane. A long neck grew, and Emma gasped as she wrapped her arms clumsily around him.
Brady was a horse.
More gunfire peppered the floor and steel around them as he galloped across the open floor. Emma squeezed him tightly, causing discomfort. He debated on morphing a saddle and reins, but the occasional bullet sparking a metal shelf nearby pushed him forward. The door was just ahead, and the worst parts of his imagination tried to take hold. Emma would be shot before they made it. Someone he didn't account for would dive from the side, preventing their escape.
He was almost surprised when none of that happened. He shifted to normal just before reaching the door, neatly catching Emma in his arms. He didn't have time to be gentle as he shoved her through the door. The men were nearly upon them. He slammed the door shut, but there was no way to lock it from the outside. Thinking fast, he shoved his foot near the bottom and focused on changing once again. His essence flowed from his shoe, forming several wedges to jam the door. They cursed and pounded from the other side.
Emma looked up at Brady from the grass, where she'd fallen. Her reaction mirrored what he'd been feeling for the past day.
"What the fuck is going on!?" Emma shouted. She looked up at him. "Brady! Who are these people? Why did they break into my apartment?" Her voice grew louder. "And what the fuck are you?"
He almost managed a sarcastic smile.
"It's a long story," he said. "And I really don't even know—"
Brady let out a startled grunt as he was tackled. Emma shouted. He didn't even see the man coming. His attacker was manning the outside, patrolling in circles, and heard the orders barked over the radio. They rolled over several times, stopping in the dirt. Brady was pinned on his stomach. His arms were pulled roughly behind him as a pair of handcuffs snapped onto his wrists.
The weight on his back disappeared when Emma threw her body into the agent. She pummeled with everything she had, all her anger and frustration. He threw Emma off him and shot her a menacing look. Stalking her, she backed up until she was against the wall.
"You bitch," he said, his accent thick.
He thought Brady was no longer a threat, being handcuffed behind him. He was wrong.
Brady had already shed the handcuffs and was on his feet. He held out his palm and watched as a baseball formed. He lobbed it over the agent's head, then willed it to change.
The baseball melted and fell on the attacker's shoulder. He backed up and swatted at the goop like it was a fly. Brady willed the tiny portion of his essence to wrap around the man's neck, taking on the form of a chain. The cold, steel links cinched tight, glistening in the moonlight. The agent fell to his knees as Emma watched in fascination and horror.
Brady didn't release his grip until the man was out cold.
He tossed the handcuffs on the unconscious man and looked up at Emma. She was already moving, her eyes on the tree-line that covered the sewing factory on two sides. She grabbed his arm and pulled.
"We have to go," she said. "We have to go to the police. Where's Lily? I heard them talk about her."
"She's safe. She's—"
The pain came out of nowhere. Brady's head felt like it was in a vice. He dropped to one knee and put a hand in the grass to steady himself.
The headache had returned.
His body began to stiffen, like it had done in the mall. His fingers refused to bend, then his arms up to the elbow went numb. Emma knelt next to him, trying to figure out what was wrong.
"Brady? Are you okay?"
He closed his eyes and concentrated, fighting the sensations. He purposely changed to gelatin, then normal again, several times. Like a runner warming up before a sprint. He needed to keep his body moving, changing. Emma gasped and backed up.
The sharp pain in his mind subsided to a dull ache. He flexed his fingers several times. Looking up at Emma, he let out a smile, despite the discomfort.
"Looks like my friends are here."
Almost as if they'd heard him, gunfire erupted from within the sewing factory. Emma shrieked and jumped to Brady's side, staring at the door. She nearly tripped over the unconscious man at their feet.
"What is that?" she asked.
He approached the door and leaned close. The group that pounded at the door was long gone. There was shouting in multiple languages, more gunfire, what sounded like a car starting up.
"That's our clue to get out of here. Let's go."
Brady led her through the woods. They walked for nearly ten minutes, nearly tripping several times. He barely knew where they were going, having never walked the path on foot before. Relief began to settle in when they heard nature. Crickets chirping, a gentle breeze, leaves rustling. Emma cursed when she stumbled, her face nearly smacking a tree. It was only a quick grab from Brady that held her up.
"Where are we going?" she said. "We need to call the police."
"I doubt that will help much. As for where we're going…." He trailed off.
"You don't know, do you?"
He smiled when the woods began to thin out and he heard traffic in the distance. Lily was exactly where she was supposed to be, just off the highway. In the shadows, where he'd left her. She saw the two of them, and her posture stiffened. In the darkness, she couldn't tell who was approaching.
"It's okay," Brady said. "It's me. I've got Emma."
Lily charged forward. She nearly knocked Brady off his feet with a vicious hug. He caught her and held on tight. Pulling away, she approached Emma and held her by the shoulders.
"Emma, I'm so sorry," she said. "Are you okay?"
"I'll be fine once someone tells me what the fuck is going on. Who were those guys?"
"They're dangerous," Lily said, looking back to Brady. "So, everything worked?"
Brady almost couldn't believe it himself.
"Yeah. They were at my place, like we thought, and they traced the call I made to here. They're fighting it out now."
"And your phone? Was it Donovan's people? The Americans?"
"I left it back there. And I don't know who it was. I didn't ask. They did turn on their little headache machine, so I guess Donovan?"
"Okay, okay. Screw your phone. Let's just go."
Lily grabbed his hand and pulled, but Brady didn't budge. She regarded him, confused. Emma was already almost to the highway, wanting to beg for help from any passing car. She turned when she realized she was alone.
"Guys?" Emma called. "What's the problem?"
Lily frowned. "Brady?"
Brady's desperate call for reinforcements worked. The teams of people after him were tearing into each other back at the factory, just like they did at the storage unit. He'd saved Emma.
But he didn't share his entire plan with Lily.
"I have to go back."
"What are you talking about?"
"They need something to fight over. If I run now, they'll just stop and keep chasing us. This won't ever stop. Not until a side either kidnaps or kills me."
She put her hands on her hips.
"So, how are you going to stop it? You'll go back there and kill everyone?"
"I'm not a killer."
"I know that. So why are we even talking about this? You're not even at full strength. We have to run. Hide, like Kim said. Make it so they never find us."
Brady smiled. "And how do you know what full strength is for me?"
"Because I know you. Whatever they're using, it's still hurting you, isn't it?"
"Uh, guys?" Emma said, slowly approaching. "What exactly are we arguing about? Shouldn't we, you know, be getting the hell out of here?"
"I'm not going to run anymore," Brady told Lily. "I'm not even sure we can."
She trie
d to pull him once again, and he resisted. He would have laughed, if not for the hurt in her eyes. She drew closer and leaned her head against his chest.
"You're an idiot," she said.
"Probably."
"For the record. I do not agree with this. This is stupid."
"Lily!" Emma said, raising her voice. "The man said he's going back! Who are we to argue? He can take care of himself. I saw him do some freaky shit. Let's go!"
"I'll be fine," Brady said. "Just hide out at the pancake place down the street. Or anywhere there's a lot of people. I'll come get you."
"Brady…." Lily was not convinced.
It was Emma's turn to tug on someone. She grabbed Lily's wrist.
"Come on," she said. "Before those shit-heads find out we're here."
Lily broke free for one more embrace, and something else. She kissed Brady on the lips. The gesture caught him completely by surprise. It wasn't long, passionate. By the time Brady realized what was happening, and had his hands on Lily's hips, the kiss was already over.
She didn't pull back far. They stared into each other's eyes, and he could see her concern, how much she cared about him. It was a first for him, almost unnerving, to be connected to someone so strongly.
"I don't love you," she said. "But in like a week, I could be there."
Brady laughed at the odd confession.
"Okay, one week. That gives me something to look forward to."
"Are you two kidding me?" Emma said. She stood next to them, trying to be seen. "People are out to get us, and you're talking about love?" She grabbed Lily by the arm, who reluctantly let Emma pull her.
"Be careful," Lily said. "With whatever the hell you're planning."
He watched as Lily and Emma crossed the highway and disappeared down the block. Lily turned and waved as they grew smaller. Brady returned the gesture, suddenly angry with himself. He'd let her walk away without speaking his mind, too awestruck to tell her he was already in love with her. He wasn't sure when it happened.
Forcing her from his mind, he turned and looked back to the woods. Lily was right that he didn't have a plan. She was also probably right about running and hiding. In the end, that might be the path he had to take. Hopefully Lily would come with him.
But in the meantime, he would make them regret ever laying eyes on him.
*****
Brady's head still throbbed, and only grew worse as he flew back to the factory. The shape of the hawk he assumed, one of his most familiar and comfortable forms, suddenly felt heavy and cumbersome. It was difficult to move his wings, but luckily he could glide on the wind.
The factory seemed quiet, which was a surprise. He thought the different groups fighting over him would be knee-deep in bullets and blood by now. Finally, he saw muzzle flashes through the windows. A dock door rolled up near the back of the factory, and a van wildly drove out, trying to circle the building to the front. There was gunfire inside, and shooting from the windows. The windows of the van shattered, but it didn't slow down.
He realized he was right. The two sides were slowly trying to disengage and leave, taking down whoever they could. There was no reason to fight if Brady wasn't there.
He couldn't let that happen.
The van was halfway through the parking lot when Brady descended. Landing on the hood, he changed shape, assuming his normal form. The only difference was the four arms he sprouted, all with a different hand-hold.
There were four men inside. Two were in front while two others loaded weapons in the back. The driver shouted something while the passenger fumbled for his gun. In that moment, Brady knew that besides being startled, they were afraid of him. A sense of power came over him, of confidence.
For the first time, he had trapped them. Lily was safe. He didn't have to protect her, watch over her.
He'd give them a taste of what they were hunting.
"Are you guys looking for me?" he asked, and changed shape.
He dipped into his imagination, wanting to really see them cringe. He called up the shape of his shadow form, the one he'd used to frighten John, the abusive father, outside the apartment building. The only thing visible were the sharp, white teeth he created. The passenger dropped the gun, and the men behind him turned to see what the commotion was. One of them screamed at the sight. Brady assumed a deep, terrifying voice.
"Come and get me."
The driver pulled his own gun, but Brady was already mid-shape and running across the roof. He'd changed into a cheetah and jumped off the van. It skidded to a stop behind him, and he knew they were going to pursue, which was exactly what he wanted.
Brady had never changed from a flying animal, to two legs, to four legs so quickly before. It was a strange feeling, running across the parking lot he just soared over on four legs. He heard the van behind him, gaining speed. They didn't have a chance to catch him, as Brady jumped through a broken window. He changed into a hawk once again and flew through the offices to the main factory floor.
Men were hiding behind anything they could find, firing at one another. Old shelves, desks, storage racks. Others were sneaking in the shadows, trying to get an advantage or a better firing angle. The spotlight that was directed at Emma was still on, although now it only showed off an empty section of floor. The number of agents was maybe around thirty, and that was only the ones he could see.
He flew in a circle above, drawing their attention. He wanted them to see him. The gunfire slowed, then eventually stopped altogether. Several people filmed him with cameras. He landed on the same girder he used in his rescue of Emma. Assuming his normal form, he took the extra precaution of a helmet and visor. He could take a few bullets and be okay, but he had to guess a bullet to the head would kill him.
His legs dangling, he looked down at the men below. Brady nearly spoke, but then caught a glimpse of Donovan near the office doors.
Donovan was still a mess. Still sharply dressed in a clean shirt and tie, his face was horrific from where Brady clawed him. His arm was wrapped and secured, but that didn't stop him from carrying a gun in his free hand. It only spoke to the determination of the mysterious government agent, as he should have been in a hospital.
Brady tried to think of something intimidating to say. But nothing came to mind.
"Everybody, listen!" he shouted. "I don't know who you guys are, or what you want. Kill me, put me under a microscope, whatever. Let me tell you, neither one is going to happen. So, why don't you—"
Someone fired. The shot was dangerously close. Sparks flew next to Brady, about three feet to his left. His eyes drifted to Donovan. The agent had already made his intentions to kill Brady quite clear. He was busy shouting at someone behind him.
Brady snapped.
No more talking. No more trying to reason with people who couldn't be reasoned with.
Like he told Lily, he wasn't a murderer. He wasn't going to kill anyone.
He was going to hurt them. Badly. It was difficult to kidnap or kill someone with broken bones.
He pushed himself off the beam. Gravity took over, and he fell toward the floor below. Everyone opened fire at that point, but his form was already gelatin. He heard voices, panicked and angry, with Donovan trying to shout at his men.
Brady didn't know how many bullets struck him. Hundreds, perhaps. He felt fine, except for the constant discomfort from their tech. He had to be careful.
Slithering into the shadows, he moved in the gaps of old equipment. Sewing machines, tables, chairs, filing cabinets. They continued to fire at him, although slowly that came to a stop. When they realized they couldn't hurt Brady, they turned their weapons on each other. Their idea was to win their own fight, then turn their attention to Brady.
He made his way around the room behind a group of three. Two of them took turns peering above an overturned table, taking wild shots across the floor. The third tapped away at a laptop. Brady listened, keeping patient.
"I'm not seeing him," the laptop guy said. "We should be pic
king up motion, but I don't see anything."
"Donovan doesn't know what he's doing."
The third took a break from shooting to engage his associates.
"You both shut up, and find him. This place isn't that big."
Brady was amused. The factory was certainly large enough, with plenty of hiding places, plenty of shapes to take.
"We can't do this. We can't fight those French sons of bitches, and him."
"He's got you spooked. Relax, and focus. One shot to the head, and he's done."
"Really?" Brady taunted. "Is that all it takes?"
They turned to see Brady nearly in his normal form. From the waist up was flesh and bone, below was his liquid essence. The man holding the laptop tried to stand, but Brady was too fast. He yanked the computer out of his hands. Brady swung it and found his mark, breaking the man's nose and sending him to floor. The remaining two fired their weapons. Brady was already liquid again, waiting patiently while they fired round after round. Their guns clicked empty, and he finished molding his normal shape. One struggled to reload his weapon while the other ignored his gun in favor of hand to hand combat. He pulled a large knife from his belt and adopted a defensive stance.
"You freak," he said. "Let's see what you're made of."
Brady laughed at the choice of words. He could be made of whatever he wanted.
He let the choice of a knife inspire him.
Stepping forward, he clasped his hands and swung as hard as he could. Mid-swing, the essence grew from his hands. His mass rippled and folded, taking the shape of a large, heavy sword. The blade bit two inches deep into the agent's arm, drawing a scream that rose over the gunfire around them. He collapsed against the table, and Brady reared back to swing again, but hesitated. Blood poured from the wound and his face was already turning white. Brady had to back up to avoid the pool of blood touching him.
The last man standing had reloaded his gun and pointed it at Brady. He didn't have a chance to fire. Brady raced forward and reached out, his hand changing as it wrapped around the gun. The agent fired into a ball of metal, still attached to Brady's arm, enclosed completely around the agent's own hand.
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