The thrust was good: fast even. It would have killed any normal person without a second thought and that would have been the end of whatever dumb-fuck had broken into the house. Sam was still unsure what this ungodly weakness was in the pit of his stomach: he still felt sluggish compared to normal, full power, ass-kicking-asian Sam, but it was still enough to deal with one guy.
Or it would have been, had it just been one, normal, human guy.
The transformation was more rapid than he dared think plausible as a hole opened up in the slimey-fucker’s throat. His knife passed through it helplessly and suddenly Sam’s arm was hanging limply in the air, useless and vulnerable. ”Shit.” He raised the shield in between the creature’s bladed arm and his own exposed limb, but quickly the slime’s intention was made otherwise obvious; it clamped down around his arm: sticky and wet and solid at the same time.
He tried to pry his arm free, but the creature’s lock on his limb was pretty strong. He made a few inches of lee-way as he raised his knee to slam into its gut. The blow hung limply in the air as suddenly black chains erupted from the bestial slime’s body and wrapped around his body. Soon enough, the monster had him hogtied and unable to freely move. Sam grunted in protest as the chains held him, squelching against his every protesting movement. Sam expected a counter attack: and was ready to throw a vicious kick at the creature: if it lashed out.
Instead, it backed off…
…No, worse than that. It was heading for the computer room and for the unconscious Sloth within.
His muscles groaned in protest as he exerted the upper limits of his strength. The chains were strong, but even they lightly budged under the exertion of might. He was taking too long, why was no one else going to help Sloth? He pushed himself harder: face reddening under the strain. The slimy chains stretched: loosening on the joints as they seemed to weaken.
Then they vanished into non-existence. Sam dropped to one knee in a fit of strain as his muscles protested the violent effort they had been forced to undergo. He allowed them little rest, and was on his feet within a few seconds. He stumbled towards the computer room when suddenly, Sloth emerged from the room, unharmed except for a slightly bleeding nose.
Sam was speechless. In shock, even. He had been so worried and struggled so much against the slime and Sloth just sauntered out of the room, as if the creature didn’t exist? Something was way out of line here. He clenched his fist as he felt a wave of nausea and light-headed-ness overtake his weakened form.
Sloth began a tirade of telling people to shut the fuck up before she stormed off to the kitchen again. Sam noticed a few wounds on his body: Lacerations where his flesh had been cut into by the chains. They may not have been metal, but the exertion he’d used to try and break free of them had sliced into him all the same. He wondered why the wounds hurt so much, when slowly the black ooze returned to begin the now-expected healing process.
Something clicked as he saw the black ooze seeping from his wounds, and at the same time as Sloth walked back into the room, clearly able to see the wounds on his arms reknitting themselves, truth that Sloth had seemingly reached already dawned upon him.
Motherfucker. We must all have gotten some sort of magic voodoo shit from the smoke.”
Listening to Sloth talk was enough to make his head-spin. Not because she was saying anything complicated, but because his stomach protested at its emptiness. He couldn’t deal with concentrating on conversation while he was this famished. He slowly got up and brushed past Emmy and Sloth on his way to the kitchen. ”So fucking hungry. I could just about anything.” He stormed into the kitchen and began raiding cupboards and the fridge. Anything not nailed down was plucked up, and Sam walked back into the room with arms full of whatever chips, cold meats and beer he had managed to liberate from the kitchen.
