Ch42 Sweet, Salty, Sour

I was worried for a bit there. When I discovered the herd of nessies clogging the outflow, I was glad to find that Nicole’s favorite, Mr. Chonkers, was among them. I figured the return of her ‘pet’ would make her happy, but instead she started crying when I brought him to her. I thought I had erred somehow, but she assured me that she was actually very happy. So… I guess humans can cry when happy? I thought crying was for being sad.

Humans are complicated.

Regardless, the other minions were not nearly as enthusiastic about the discovery of the nessies in the tunnels around their base. Especially not Viper. Both Nicole and I tried to assure them that the nessies were harmless, but unfortunately the fact that nessies are a bit… ‘bitey’, did little to convince them. It had never been a problem for Nicole and I, but it seemed the average human wasn’t quite as prepared to dodge a nessie lunge, and admittedly the nessies weren’t all that weak, at least not in comparison to a standard human (they did compete with rats after all), so both Nicole and I had to bonk Mr. Chonkers multiple times to prevent him from biting nearby minions. Nicole eventually fed him some leftover meatloaf in order to pacify him.

I did bring up the nessies’ useful filtration ability, but besides a few of Socket’s engineers there wasn’t much interest. Water filtration was a technology humans already had, and HH just used the city’s water supply anyways. My suggestion that the nessies could provide recycled water directly from the sewer was perhaps met with even less enthusiasm than letting the nessies stay. I wasn’t sure what the big deal was, I’d tested it myself, and nessie treated water should be just as safe for humans as tap water, and yet even Nicole wasn’t in agreement with me.

In the end, the final decision came down to the concern that nessies were not a recognized ‘stable species’ or even a recognized species at all, and the risk that they could trigger badly due to Odd Summer was too high. On the plus side, one minion’s suggestion that they be ‘put down’ was also disregarded for the same reason. That or Nicole’s obvious distress at the suggestion. Socket smacked the back of that minion’s head.

Still, the nessies couldn’t stay, so I was put in charge of luring them away from the base tunnels with food, while Socket’s crew welded grates over the outflow and some connecting tunnels. I was trying to figure out a good place to bring them, when Mr. Chonkers got distracted and went down a side tunnel away from the herd. He had apparently found a small patch of half-dead barnacles, and almost got himself killed when they started whalloping him, forcing me to save him. The chamber the barnacles were in was a good place to store the nessies though. A wide pool with multiple smaller entrance/escape tunnels, and a good water flow. I dumped the rest of my bait and the dead barnacles (keeping one for myself). The nessies would figure it out. Or I’d have to dump some food here every now and then to keep them from wandering off and dying. At least they were easy to feed.

The rest of the day was a calm one. I had no official duties, so I spent the day helping Nicole acquire essentials she would need, seeing as the zombies had torn up her home, and the C’s would still have eyes on the scene after all the commotion. Things like toothpaste, a charger cable for her phone, and clothes. I asked her what kind of clothes she wanted, and she replied with “just some generic shirts” which I could get cheap at a surplus store since “whatever” was fine. Unacceptable. Clothes were vitally important, as wearing the wrong ones could cause problems. Wear the wrong colors down the wrong alley? You’ll get stopped by whichever gang controls the area. Go to a ‘fancy’ restaurant without ‘fancy’ clothes? They’ll stare at you throughout the whole meal. Get in a fight while not wearing durable clothing? You’ll have to get new ones. Nicole had absolutely nothing but the one shirt right now, so every piece counted.

That said, I wasn’t quite sure what would be most useful to her. Most of my wardrobe was based on what was sturdy enough to survive a quick brawl, items that fit a certain ‘look’ based on average crowd aggregates, a few pieces I might need later for alternate disguises, and a few articles that Babs, the tailor Cindy introduced me to, designed specifically because I was the only one who could wear them.

Ah! I could just ask Babs. She would definitely know better than I what Nicole would need.

I took a detour to Babs’ tailor shop on my way back to the base. When I entered, Babs was immediately apparent, wearing a bright red asymmetrical dress and speaking loudly to a client in the shop.

“I’ll have some of the outfits ready by tomorrow,” said Babs. “Be sure to send my regards, and I’d be happy to have them in the shop for a real fitting whenever they have the time.”

“I’ll mention it, but I doubt it. Summer’s ramping up.”

“My, yes. I saw all of that nastiness on the news this morning. Thank heavens they found those poor people. You take care now darling.”

“You as well ma’am.”

The client left, giving a perfunctory nod as he passed by me on the way out. He was a baseline human wearing a suit, slightly wrinkled. With the dark blotches under his eyes, and the slight scent of sweat I detected from him, I determined he had likely been working at whatever his job was for quite a while. The door drifted shut behind him as Babs greeted me.

“Tofu! Welcome, welcome. Good things do come in twos.”

“They do?”

“Today at least. Just managed to nab a juicy contract. Please tell me you’re here to model.”

“Actually I’m here to get clothes for a friend. She lost everything during a rat attack.”

“My goodness! It wasn’t that business on the news this morning was it?”

“If you mean the rat swarms it was. One of the swarms came after her.”

“My word! Tell me everything!”

I gave Babs a basic summary of what happened, and an explanation that I was helping with restocking Nicole’s wardrobe but didn’t know what to get her. Babs immediately agreed to help me, and once I explained why Nicole’s mutation meant she wouldn’t need pants, demanded I model for her to get it right. It took an hour and a half before Babs was satisfied, but once it was done, she had several articles of clothing that she claimed would match Nicole’s ‘complexion’. Interestingly they weren’t all shirts, and included several blouses and dresses, as well as some custom articles by Babs. Nicole hadn’t asked for them, but Babs assured me they were essential, along with several articles of ‘underwear’. I took note of every new thing Babs mentioned about clothing as usual. Clothing was important for my disguise, and every bit I could glean would help me in the long run.

In the end I left Babs’ shop with my arms laden with boxes and bags of clothes, all sold to me at a heavy discount (which I had come to learn wasn’t really something Babs’s shop normally did). I would come back at a later date to retrieve the more specialized clothing that Babs was going to make for Nicole, such as gloves and work aprons.

The walk home was uneventful. I flashed my mask at any thugs that looked at my bags with interest, noted two flaming motorcycles that were racing each other down the road, and bought myself some snacks from a street vendor to eat while I walked. When I got to my apartment, I dropped off a few articles of clothing I had bought for myself, then took the elevator to the base to give Nicole her supplies and clothing. She was somewhat surprised by the amount I brought back.

“Tofu I, I can’t pay for all of these.”

“I already paid for them.”

“But these look so expensive! I just needed a few shirts.”

“Babs gave me a discount. No worries, I’ve been budgeting properly.” I was obeying Sandra’s advice, and I was getting a big hazard pay bonus for helping with the rat-stitcher besides. “Anyways, Babs said your work stuff will be ready in a day or two, and when you finish regenerating you should come by to get fitted.”

She rolled her eyes, “Like that’s going to happen.”

“You should. She said she can’t perfectly fit the underwear otherwise.”

“W-what?”

“The underwear, here,” I pulled out a bundle of ‘bras’ from a bag and handed them to her. “These should fit regardless, but they’ll fit better if Babs gets your measurements. I did my best to model you for her with my power, but I can only mimic so much.”

“You… modeled me?”

“Yes, but it’s imprecise of course. If you let me take your measurements I could go to Babs myself if you’d prefer that? Babs showed me how to do it.”

“…”

“Nicole? Are you alright? Your face is changing hues.”

I got kicked out.

For the rest of the afternoon I used both the target range and the training room to continue making adjustments and practice with my new body. Partly because I needed to practice with the lower weight, partly because I was… slightly exasperated with human social interactions, and I had had enough of them for the day.

So many illogical rules.

Perfectly fine filtered water was still ‘gross’ if it had once been in contact with someone else’s digestive system. Even if it was cleaner than the average tap water. Talking about bras was embarrassing, but only if it was a boy and a girl talking about them, but also not when it was with the shop owner who was selling them to you. Certain emotions could invoke the same physical reactions, but not always, and for unclear reasons. The stun batons were a joke, because the threat of physical harm among acquaintances is somehow funny. But superficially slashing a thug’s face when they doubt your mask is real is considered “too much,” and then they call you a psycho! And putting more than one Nectar packet in my drink? Also too much. Despite the fact that it’s specifically formulated for mutants who generally need the extra calories. Says so on the label. At least Nicole admitted that my drink wasn’t that bad after the others left. She hadn’t done so earlier because while Mikey and Ifrit were there it was difficult to admit she liked it, because of ‘peer pressure’, which was another social concept I had to research… she did apologize for that though…

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

And mask rules in Fortress City made no logical sense! I’d read through the articles on the mask rules myself after Viper talked through some of the special circumstances with Nicole. There were no less than nine logical paradoxes within the first four sections alone. Out of one-hundred and twenty-eight Articles total. Not including the amendments sections. Ridiculous.

And humanity’s obsession with rectangles was apparently so ingrained that they didn’t have a word I could look up to research it. That… hadn’t actually come up today, but it was still bothering me, and I just felt so… frustrated.

Human.exe shut-down;

Human.exe displaying anomalous thought patterns: analyzing…

Modifying thought process kernel…

Restarting Human.exe;

I rolled my eyes as my error counter ticked up by one, and decided to shove the social interaction analysis further down the priority queue. Instead I concentrated on the physical destruction of my target dummies. Several anger management guides recommended physical activity to manage stress and irritation, and I had to admit that hitting and breaking the targets was… ‘cathartic’.