Limitless Evolution As a Snake

I lie there for a solid minute, weighing my options like some kind of idiot philosopher. Option one: snuggle back in with Cherry, low risk, high comfort, guaranteed good time.

Option two: go test out this new flying thing on an empty stomach at ass o’clock in the morning, high risk, unknown reward, possible death.

Old mate, what would you do?

[System: Mate, I’m a koala. I sleep eighteen hours a day out of choice. Don’t ask me for life advice, but thanks for asking.]

Fair.

Then he just drops this on me out of nowhere.

[System: Oh, by the way, next time you’re getting busy with the girls, you can make yourself look like anything you want. Head, legs, whole human package. Physical body’s still gonna be a snake underneath though.]

I rear up in bed so fast my snout nearly cracks against the wardrobe.

Wait, what? Hold on, are you sure? Are you serious? So I could actually look normal? Like actually make out with them properly, face to face, no weird tongue flicking business?

[System: Nah mate, didn’t say that. You’ll look it, but it’s not real; it’s just what they see. Still snake business underneath the illusion.]

I deflate a bit, right. So it’s basically just a hologram, not an upgrade.

[System: Yeah, pretty much, sorry to burst your bubble.]

I hold my coil, thinking about it for a second. Guess I could show them what I used to look like, back before all this scale and fang nonsense. Show them the old Matt, the disappointing Vane nobody wanted to look twice at.

Old Mate reads my mind, unfortunately, like he always does.

[System: Nah, don’t do that; that’s weak, and like no one wanted you then, do you want them to dry up? Show them what you are now. Own it.]

Yeah. Yeah, okay, fair point, but damn brutal.

[System: Anyway, got a quest for you.]

Oh great, another quest. Why do you keep switching up? One minute it’s a quest and in the next minute I’m running a casino for the mob doing a mission.

[System: Honestly, mate, I forget too. Some days it feels like destiny, some days it feels like tax fraud.]

We’re not even running an illegal casino anymore, though, are we? Deed’s legit now.

[System: Right, yeah, legal casino, for the mob.]

Since when have you given a shit about the law, Old Mate?

[System: What I’d say is, indulge. But your actual mission, and I mean this one properly, is to get to know the girls more. Like, who even is Cherry? Who even is Lyra? I need more detail for my journals.]

You keep journals now?

[System: Yeah.]

Since when.

[System: Since now. Stop hobby shaming me anyway. Up you get, off to the roof, time to test them fins.]

I peel myself out of bed, leaving Cherry snoring softly with one horn twitching against the pillow, and slither up through the penthouse stairwell until I hit the cold night air of the rooftop.

Wind’s sharp up here. Twawi’s all lit up below like a circuit board, orange and blue and neon pink bleeding into each other.

I coil at the edge and think, right, how do I even do this? Do I just yell ”fly” like some anime protagonist. Feels stupid. But hey, worked before with other stuff.

So I think about it- just the one word, I guess.

Fly.

And suddenly I’m floating. Which, okay, isn’t actually new; the smoke tail’s been doing that for a few minutes now. But this feels different. Heavier. More real, like my whole body’s properly buoyant instead of some ghost trick holding me up.

Holy shit, this is scary, attempting to grip the ledge like an idiot even though I’m already airborne.

[System: What do you mean scary, you absolute wanker, I’ve pushed you off this building twice already.]

...I knew that was you.

[System: Anyway, focus, you’ve got proper flight now, look at your sides.]

I glance down and sure enough there’s this audible SNAP as two long koi fins pop clean out from little pockets along my ribs. Real, actual wings. Now they’re unfurling like some kind of bat-slash-dragon hybrid wing situation, aerodynamics, probably. Old Mate would know; I sure as hell don’t.

I stretch them out, feel the wind catch under them, and for one glorious second I feel like a bird. Smooth glide straight out over the rooftop, wind in my face, scales glinting under the streetlights, looking basically like a badass villain from some movie opening.

Yeah, I got this, I always have this, I’m great.

Then I start spinning, not like a graceful barrel roll, not like some cool stunt move. Just straight up spinning, out of control, like somebody grabbed me and chucked me into a washing machine on full spin cycle.

OLD

MATE

I’M

GOING

TO

DIE

I

CANT

STOP

SPINNING

OH

MY

GOD

[System: HAHAHHAHHA YOU WANKER U HAVEN’T GOT THE BALANCE DOWN LEFT RIGHT, YOU GOTTA BALANCE.]

H

O

W

I’m spinning so hard I’m not sure which direction the thought even goes.

[System: It’s like a bike, mate. You just gotta feel it. Use your wings like a rudder; you gotta counter-spin. You got little jets in the tail, too. Maybe use them, I dunno; could be funny.]

IV

GOT

JETS

IN

THEM?

WHAT?

I try extending the wings, but the wind catches them unevenly; now I’m doing this awful flat spin, like a demonic pizza crust flung by a half-blind pizza chef. My tail flicks out on pure panic, and the smoke jets fire randomly, which propels me directly into the glass of the coffee shop downstairs.

I bounce off with a horrendous thunk that would’ve shattered every bone in my old body, but my scales don’t even register a scratch.

Shards rain down to the alley below as I pinwheel out over open air, completely unharmed and still spinning.

Ah, the spider barista is going to kill me. I’m pretty sure I hear a car alarm go off somewhere.