Limitless Evolution As a Snake

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LIED?

The words bounce around my skull like they’re looking for an exit that doesn’t exist.

[System: Whoa, woah, easy there, mate. Inside voice. No need to go blowin’ out me eardrums; I’m literally inside your head.]

I don’t care. What do you mean you lied?

[System: Yeah, I lied. Why are you being such a pus about it? So what.]

So what? SO WHAT? I look down the alley towards the zombie-like guy walking to his death.

Okay, small problem. I think I just borderline killed a guy for absolutely zero reason, and my personal koala-brained life coach just casually dropped a ”yeah I lied” like he’s telling me he forgot to pick up the mail.

[System: Could’ve been a bad bloke though. Who’s to say.]

How would that make it okay?

[System: Dunno mate, I’m just spitballin’. But I mean, look at him. Microwaved chicken for sale? In Twawi? Absolute crime against nature that is. Deserves whatever’s comin’.]

That is, actually, a fair point. He did smell weird; I passed him earlier. And now that I think about it, really think about it, the guy hasn’t actually done anything to prove he’s innocent, has he?

He was just standing there, extremely suspicious. Standing there, minding his business, definitely up to something. Everyone down here is up to something. That’s just Twawi. Nobody’s clean; you don’t end up living three levels under a decommissioned water treatment plant because your life’s going great.

So really, if I think about it logically, this was basically a public service. Pest control, honest-to-God community cleanup. I should get a little certificate, a little gold star, a medal even.

[System: Yeah, nah, you’re spiralin’ a bit there cunt.]

I am not spiralling; I am processing. There’s a difference, and honestly, the more I sit with it, the more I realise this was fine, this was good even, this was necessary, and now that the necessary violence is out of the way. I can focus on what’s important.

Lamb, I need lamb. Good lamb, not the sad grey stuff they sell in the market stalls that’s been sitting under a heat lamp since last week. And spice, real spice, the Chinese Szechwan, the kind that makes your lips go numb, and your nose run, and your soul briefly leave your body- ah, that’s the good stuff.

[System: Did I do this to you? Or were you always this cooked?]

I’m going to ignore you.

”Okay,how do I get good lamb and good Szechuan spice around here?”

[System: Funny you should ask.]

Why is it funny? How is this funny?

[System: Because you’ve got one hour.]

One hour for what?

[System: One hour to get it all sorted, mate. Ingredients, cookin’ setup, the works. After that I’m takin’ half your IP.]

My coils go rigid, and I stop cleaning the shack, stunned.

I’m sorry. Half. HALF? Do you understand how many times I have nearly died getting these points? Or how many times I have been one bad move away from becoming somebody’s lunch down here, and you’re gonna just casually take HALF?

[System: Excuses, excuses. Chop chop, clock’s tickin’.]

ok ok, ok, ok, deep breath, Matt. I don’t know where to get lamb in the Twawi or anywhere in Ami, but I know who to ask.

I slither out of my now-new stall and look down the alleyway; there are still at least 5 wolf women pretending they’re not watching me.

I slither up to one of them.

”Uhhh, hi. I’ve known you guys were watching me for a long time, because of, you know... Dad.”

She pretends she doesn’t notice me literally in front of her.

”ok what ever, I need enough good cuts of small bits of lamb meat, on skewers, so I can make Szechuan lamb skewers and sell it.”

The mafia wolf bodyguard lady nods and runs off; so does one other wolf guard.

ok thats sorted, I think?

I try to remember what Grandpa used to do. It was simple, really. The secret wasn’t the meat; it was the sauce. The old guy’s chilli paste was made out of ground devil peppers, reconstituted with leftover cooking oil and a shot of grain alcohol. I can’t replicate it exactly, but I can fake the effect. I have a deeply questionable sense of ethics, and there are other stalls nearby; we can work this out.

I have never been more proud of my own problem-solving skills.

I spend the next ten minutes stealing a proper grill. I spot one behind a noodle stall, still warm and gleaming. The vendor starts to protest until I flare my hood and bare my fangs, he goes pale and backs away so fast he trips over his own bucket of broth. I haul the grill into my alley like it’s always been mine, then swipe a full rack of skewers from the kebab stand next door. The guy just stares, frozen, as I help myself to his lighter fluid and matches too. Not a single part of this is legal, but that’s half the point.

[System: i like the way you think.]

By the time I get the shop going, Cherry’s awake. She emerges from the alley, rubbing her eyes, and gives me a look like she’s not sure whether to be impressed or mortified.

”You’re opening a food shop?” she asks, voice still half asleep.

”Yeah, I’ve always wanted to run a kebab shop, and I’m hungry.”

She stares at the setup for a full ten seconds, then at me, then back at the grill. ”You have no food.”

”I’m working on it.”

She sits on the red rug that i threw in the back of the shack and watches, wings folded behind her like a very judgmental parrot. ”I want to help,” she grumbles. ”But I don’t know how to cook.”

”You don’t need to know how to cook,” I reply. ”You just need to look cute and point at the sign when customers show up.”

Cherry tilts her head, her broken horns twitching as she mulls it over. ”Can I do, like, a cosplay?”

”Absolutely,” I nod, because I’m not a monster, and if i ever say no to a hot girl in cosplay, it’s not me and you should shoot.

She claps once, then goes off to who-knows-where. Probably to build a costume out of crime scene tape and stolen stickers.

I check the alley to see if the wolf guard is back yet.