Mom, I'm Bulletproof

Chapter 6: Murder in London, part 8

With the news report still playing on his television, Sam got dressed as fast as he could, in his old-fashioned Londoner outfit he'd gotten so used to. With his arms being long sticky tentacles, things like buttons and shoelaces were a challenge, but he managed. The cape and scarf came helped, as Sam could wrap his arms around himself underneath them as he walked down the sidewalk. Anyone who noticed him outside would only see him as an eccentric strolling around with an old-fashioned cloak and top hat, never knowing the freak of nature underneath.

This continued on the tube, all the way to the museum stop.

This time, the police and fire personnel had arrived before Sam and were at work blocking off the area. Sam figured their priorities would be the safety of the people inside, followed by protecting the many antiquities and not by a man on the roof.

A crowd had already gathered outside, gawking at the fire. Police officers shouted orders at them, telling them to get back. Sam ignored them and hurried down a side street, sprinting until he was right up against the museum's outer wall. Knowing he had to move fast before someone spotted him, he brought both arms out from under the cape and pressed them against the museum wall. The arms' adhesiveness and strength lifted him upward, with his legs used only to brace himself against the wall.

Sam clumsily scrambled up the side of the building and onto the roof. The lights inside were still on, as they streamed out of the grand court's glass into the sky. Just beyond the glass, the smoke did the opposite, darkening the entire sky.

Sam adjusted his top hat as best he could, and then ran across the roof over to its far corner, where the fire burned. He held his long, snakelike arms up as he ran, wondering if he looked as strange as he felt.

Getting closer to the fire, Sam tried to avoid smoke getting in his eyes. A burst of yellow flames shot up out of the building, providing just enough light for Sam to catch a glimpse of the man in the red robes. The man spotted Sam and pointed a finger at him.

"Sinner!" the man said. His whip was in the other hand.

Instead of arguing with the guy, Sam ran right at him. The man raised his whip again, but by this time, Sam was ready, bringing both arms up. The whip made a loud "crack," but the point of impact was against Sam's arms, which were tough enough so that Sam barely felt anything.

Sam swung his right arm around in front of him in a sweeping arc. The stranger jumped away, barely avoiding the arm. Sam stepped forward and raised his left arm up to use it like his own whip. It was too thick and heavy, though, and it instead fell down like a clumsy club, but it did knock the stranger off his feet.

Lying on his back, the man lashed out with the whip, wrapping it around Sam's left arm. A quick slither was all it took to shake the whip off of him. Sam brought his right arm down onto the man with another club-like blow.

"Why'd you kill Dr. Friday?" Sam shouted.

Faster than Sam could react, the man swung out with the whip again. It darted low across the surface of the roof and circled itself tightly around Sam's ankle. The man gave it a good tug, pulling Sam off his feet and onto his back. The air shot out of Sam's lungs as he landed.

Sam's arms flailed around in confusion for a moment, and then tried to undo the whip from his ankle. Without fingers, this was tricky. Sam sat up and saw the stranger pulling on the whip, drawing Sam closer to him. Sam jerked both his arms forward. His first blow slapped the man across his head, and the second thudded against his chest.

The man in red fell off his feet again, letting go off the whip this time. Now that it was slackened, Sam found it much easier to wedge the tips of his arms between the whip and his leg. He removed the whip and threw it as far as he could away from the two of them as he could, by sticking to it at first, and then unsticking it at the fastest moment of the throw.

Sam felt moisture in the air. The firefighters outside the building were putting out the fire and, without the cover of the smoke overhead, he knew the news helicopters would soon get a glimpse of him.

The stranger got up to his feet and started to run for the edge the roof. Sam reached forward and roped his arm around the stranger's foot. The man fell forward, hitting his chest and head against the hard roof.

"Yeah, how does that feel?" Sam said, stepping closer to the man. He let go of the man's foot and snaked both arms around his midsection, tightening around him like a pair of boa constrictors. With a loud exhale, Sam lifted the man up over his head, held him there for a second, and then slammed the man against the roof. He did this two more times, pounding the stranger against the roof as hard as he could.

Keeping both arms constricted tightly around the man's torso, Sam again asked, "Why'd you kill Dr. Friday?"

"All sinners will pay," the man said.

A burst of heat come from the man, hot enough for Sam to pull his arms away from him.

The man fell limp on the roof. Sam stuck the tip of his arm against the man's hood and pulled it off. The face underneath was horribly scarred, with the remnants of burns and other mutilations covering his entire bald head. A small puff of grey smoke came from the man's neck. Sam carefully lowered the robe to reveal a small electronic device covering the man's neck, with a bloody, smoldering wound beneath it.

Sam suddenly felt sad for this stranger. He wondered what kind of life the man had led.

For the first time, Sam heard the helicopters, which has been distant until now. He kept his head bent down, hoping shadows from his hat, which had miraculously not fallen off during the fight, would obscure his face.

"Nice job," a female voice called out. "You just saved the whole museum, you know."

Sam saw a young woman hovering in midair above him. She wore a tight blue outfit, a red and white striped cape, and she had freckly skin and long curly red hair.

"I'm U.S. Amy," she said. "Nice to meet'cha."

"I'm..." Sam started. "I'd shake your hand, but look at me."

"I'll bet you want to get out of here."

"Yeah," he said.

Amy smiled, and flew down to him. She placed both her arms under Sam's cape, around his back.

"What are you..." he said.

"Hold on to your hat."

She lifted him up into the air and they flew away from the museum.

"I didn't catch your name," Amy said.

Sam could see the various lights of London below him below him as she carried him higher and higher.

"I'm the Dreamsmith."

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END OF CHAPTER 8

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Next: Fly!