Walk Me Home: Dating a Monster Girl

One month before The Eye of the Storm …

~

Liver punch.

Neck strike.

Knuckle to eye.

Palm to nose.

Then a bite, because why not? Sure, it was dangerous to get his head so close to an opponent who could probably rip it off in one go, but with a window of opportunity? It could work wonders, especially the psychological effect. The idea of being bitten wasn’t exactly easy on the nerves. There was some actual technique to it: maximum damage, get in and out fast. He may have been one of the few people on Earth who knew how to bite on the calibre of a martial art.

In a nutshell, Norman attacked like a rabid animal some madman had taught how to fight.

And it was just a training dummy.

Emphasis on was. He’d be needing a new one real soon.

After fifteen minutes straight of pummeling the ever-loving daylight out of it in creative ways. Then he stopped. Not out of exhaustion, but because the dummy had fallen over despite his precautions against that. He stared down at it. Now would be a good time to take a break, right?

…

In a sec.

Norman spiraled through the air, roaring. His kick thundered down into the dummy’s abdomen. The cracking impact echoed through the gym workshop hybrid. Panting, he glowered at the dummy’s caved chest.

Okay. Now it was time to take a break.

Sweat lathered his body, but he was barely tired: one perk of prolonged exposure to the city’s hyperbaric atmosphere. He snatched up a towel and put it to good use while chugging a chilled concoction from a bottle. Picking up a second bottle, he held it behind him.

“Hey Wade. Want one?” offered Norman.

Silence, then a massive hand took the drink. Lumbering to take a seat beside him was a man, 6’7”, built like a bear.

Wade popped off the top and sniffed the contents. “You gonna tell me what’s in this?”

“Wild Apan mushrooms, kefir, coconut water, egg …” Norman explained, waving off the gist of it. “An energy-rich brew for rapid recovery, muscle maintenance and just about everything else. There is no understating how good this stuff is.”

“‘Brew’, huh?” Wade smiled. “Ya got me all excited, but I don’t smell any beer in here.”

Wade took a deep drink.

“It’s good, though,” he admitted.

“That it is,” Norman agreed.

“So, how’d ya know I was there?” asked Wade.

“I heard your footsteps,” Norman shrugged.

Wade raised an eyebrow. “I don’t walk loudly.”

“That’s why I listened closely.”

“Why would you be listening for me?”

“‘Cause you were coming.”

Norman smiled and sipped his beverage without elaborating.

Wade’s deadpan stare demanded answers, but none came. Norman made it sound like the simplest, most obvious explanation ever, as if it made any sense. Despite his size, Wade’s skill was tried and true when it came to stealthy takedowns. Norman shouldn’t have heard him coming, but the guy was annoyingly evasive about these things.

The man looked at the rings of water remaining where the bottles stood.

“Lots of condensation over there,” Wade declared. “You’ve had both bottles out for, what? Five minutes?”

“Sevenish.”

“You knew I was coming.”

“Maybe.”

“So you ‘heard my footsteps’ while I was still half a block down the road?”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Norman.

“You bugged me,” stated Wade.

Norman huffed a laugh. “Why?”

Wade paused, rethinking his conspiracy theory. “You have a far-reaching surveillance system that monitors the whole neighbourhood.”

“Do you think I’d happen to check some vast surveillance system every time you’re rolling in?” countered Norman.

The way Norman looked at him. It was casual, as usual. Not exactly disrespectful, but it was the same way Wade looked at his little cousin. Wade towered over just about everyone, dominating the room the moment he walked in. Looking down on them wasn’t a choice, or an insult. It was a fact of his stature, and a life in military and MMA that forged him into the man he was. He knew what he was about, and he would not be shaken. His aura bore down on those around him without even trying.

Then there was Norman.

Wade couldn’t figure him out. Norman wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short either. His height fit squarely within ‘average’. He was exceptionally fit, but not bulky. The height difference forced him to look up at Wade. Still, there was this sense that every time their eyes met, he was looking down. Wade was the one forced to look up. It was the way a lion looked down upon buffalo. Pound for pound, a buffalo could trounce a lone lion any day, but when it came to Norman? Wade had to wonder.

“I’m fighting you today,” Wade declared.

Norman frowned at him the way a father would when his son asked for help to jump the car with his bike.

“Not a good idea,” Norman stated.

“You know I’m a UFC top ranker, right?” pressed Wade.

“I know,” Norman nodded.

Wade rocked to his feet. “Then what’s stoppin’ ya? C’mon, Norman. Let’s go.”

“We’re not doing that,” Norman declared.

“Norman, if there’s one thing I love about The Night Shift, it’s the hyperbaric whatchamacallit. Injuries heal times faster. There’s never been a better time to duke it out. I promise I’ll take it easy on ya until we’ve felt things out. Then you tell me if you wanna continued.”

“Don’t you feel ashamed, picking on a little guy such as I?” teased Norman.

“Don’t give me that,” Wade admonished.

Norman’s aura darkened as he calmly, firmly, made himself clear.

“Wade, if I fight you right now, I’m going to kill you.”

Wade blinked and searched his eyes. Norman was dead serious. Why would he-? Wait … what was that thing? Wade strode over to it. Behind the punching bag and clutter on the sidelines was some kind of dummy. It was huge. The closer he got, the more its inhuman features came to fore. At eight feet tall, it loomed over him. A massive, dreadlocked wig was affixed to its skull. Dark grey skin adorned its lean, sinewy frame. Its dagger teeth were on full display in a predatory grin.

Wade felt his hair stand on end. He’d seen his fair share or horrors, but this one evoked primal phobias he didn’t know he had.

“Norman, who’s this handsome fella?” Wade asked tentatively.

“You mean Johnny Boy? Just a custom dummy I made,” Norman nonchalantly explained.

“… Why?” pressed Wade.

“Saw that jerk in a nightmare. He was messing with Amy. Ticked me off so much that I made something to punch in his likeness.”

Wade nodded slowly. “He a nyctal?”

“Who knows?” Norman shrugged.

Wade’s eyes wandered down the monster’s form. “You caved his chest.”

“Yep.”

“I can see where you been hittin’ him. Most of those strikes are illegal in MMA.”

“Uh huh.”

Wade turned to him. “Oh, now I really gotta fight you.”

Norman’s fist was an inch from his face.

Wade stared down the knuckles. When had Norman moved? How had he gotten there so fast? Wade hadn’t even heard him. That punch … it’d been destined for his nose. Big guy or not, his nose was as vulnerable as anyone else’s. It would have been nasty.

“Sorry. That wasn’t fair,” Norman apologised, drawing back the fist. “Of course, nothing’s fair in a real fight. You get the next move. I’ll react accordingly.”

Wade stepped back without a word, sizing up Norman. He threw a punch.

Norman wasn’t there to take it.

Wade felt a light tap and looked down to see Norman’s knuckles at his liver. There’d be no getting up from a punch like that.

Wade lunged down to grapple. Norman should have followed through. This was a fight, after all.

“This wasn’t a fight,” Norman calmly declared.

Wade was on his back. What just happened? Apparently, Norman had yanked his legs from beneath him.

“Come back when you’re stronger,” Norman smirked, extending a hand to help up the giant.

Wade hissed out a laugh, shaking his head as he accepted the hand. “What are you? Training for isekai?”

“This city’s crazy enough as it is,” Norman reasoned, absent-mindedly hoisting Wade to his feet like the guy weighed nothing.

“Yeah,” Wade nodded cynically. “I got that from the fact that you made a dummy in the likeness of an imaginary fiend messing with your girl.”

“She’s not my girl,” Norman corrected.

“She better be,” Wade teased. “Man, the moment she pulled that switchblade on yo neck, I was like ‘ohohoo! I see you shawty!’ Girl didn’t even flinch when you twisted it outa her wrist! Then you guys locked eyes like kitties in a stare down. It was chef’s kiss perfection!”

Norman gave him a funny look.

“‘Ey! Don’t stare at me like that!” Wade chastened. “You’re the one who hangs out with her every other day!”

“I don’t miss that phase of our friendship,” Norman mused.

Wade shook his head. “Friendship? Norman, if you don’t snatch her up, I’m baggin’ that baddie.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Norman challenged.

Even in jest, the quiet intensity in his voice was palpable.

“WoOOo, scary!” Wade chuckled, in part to shake off the effect Norman’s resting air of danger had on him. “Anyway, before I head off on some long spiritual journey to ‘get strong’ or whatever, ya gotta grant me one thing. Tell me, how’d ya know I was coming?”

Norman thought about it for a second. “Hm … truth is I’m probably dreaming,”

Wade squinted. “… What?”

“If I’m right, then you’re not here yet,” Norman reasoned. “I’m more sensitive to things like that when I’m dreaming.”

“So you think I’m some imaginary figment?” Wade asked, side-eying him.

“Something like that,” Norman supposed simply.

“This look unreal to you?” Wade scoffed, flexing a muscle.

“No,” Norman conceded. “You look real, but then again so do fake plants, well-crafted NPCs and politicians. Seeming real has nothing to do with being real.”

Wade snorted as he strode for the door. “Alright. You win. No point botherin’ you when you’re not even conscious. Besides, I get the feeling you’re here to meet someone else.”

That got Norman’s attention. “Really? Who?”

“Why would I tell you that?” grinned Wade. “Let it eat at you a little. You think you’re Him? Nah. You’ll know a real Him when you see one.”

Norman stupsed. “Wonna malicious.”

“Dah fuh lick yuh!” Wade called out as he slammed the door behind him.

Norman smirkingly rolled his eyes and sat back, staring at the ceiling. Night would fall soon. He’d set up a myriad of mostly automated defenses around the building, but that wouldn’t matter if he was indeed dreaming.

He froze.

Whether a shift in the air or a subtle sound, a new presence touched the edge of his senses. He hadn’t heard it coming, but he could see it at the side of his eye.

Someone, or something, was sitting beside him.

Norman’s punch was faster than thought. A single point of contact stopped it. Was that … a finger?? All his training, thwarted by a finger?!?

The owner of the finger peeked past his fist. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Your reaction speed was excellent.”

Norman scrutinised the newcomer. To say this man looked like a Greek god would be an insult. Greek gods could only wish they looked like that. Those piercing eyes … could it be?

“Bro! It’s you!” Norman exclaimed, pulling The Brother into a hearty hug. “I hardly recognise you sometimes! How have you been? Wait, stupid question. My head would explode.”

“No, I like when you guys ask that,” smiled The Brother. “It’s the same way I like talking to you, even if I know what you’re going to say.”

Norman soaked in that smile like rays of sunshine. It had been such a long time …

“… But my head would explode, right?” Norman pressed.

“Of course not,” The Brother assured. “You’d experience brain death long before you reach 1% … which you never would, even if that didn’t happen.”

“Anticlimactic, then,” Norman joked.

“Yup,” The Brother agreed. “I can give you the long short of it pertaining to this moment, though.”

The Brother’s gaze seeped deep into Norman’s soul, brimming with warm admiration. An effervescent laugh erupted from The Brother. The next thing Norman knew, he’d been scooped up and cradled like a small animal.

“Let’s just say I am very happy to see you!” The Brother summarised.

Norman was, well, a little confused. When had The Brother picked him up? He was casually too fast for Norman’s reflexes. It made sense, but it was almost embarrassing. Oh … now The Brother was snuggling. Under ordinary circumstances, Norman wouldn’t get caught dead like this, and yet he couldn’t get enough of it. He would have purred if anatomically possible. At least Wade wasn’t there to see him.

Norman glimpsed a hand injury and winced. “Wait, that hasn’t healed yet?”

“No, it doesn’t heal,” The Brother answered flippantly.

“… Was it worth it?” Norman asked quietly.

The Brother squeezed him closer. “Of course it was. A thousand times over, you were worth it.”

“I don’t see how,” Norman confessed. “I’m, well, I’m not much, and the rest of us aren’t either. The training is like learning to waddle while all the big kids fly at FTL.”

“Does a mother lament her baby’s inability to walk, talk and fall in step with the march of society?” asked The Brother. “No. He’s her son. He remains her son, no matter what. You’re confused because you don’t know what a human is, and what they look like when they grow up. You’re still a baby, but I don’t care. We’re brothers, and I love you all the same. That will not, and cannot, change.”

Norman pondered it all. The Brother’s words were warm, physically warm. He didn’t understand how that worked, but he savoured it.

“However, plans can change,” The Brother noted. “Norman, you’re not the head of the spear anymore.”

The fuzzy feelings in Norman’s chest ceased their dance. That sentence hit with the force of a meteor.

“W-Why?” croaked Norman.

“Remember when you were showing off your talents for Amy a couple nights ago?” asked The Brothers. “Our enemies were observing you. They figured out what you were supposed to do.”

Norman’s mind struggled and failed to grasp the implications. Those years of preparations, gone, just like that?

“No. It’s okay. We never sanctioned the original plan anyway,” The Brother chuckled. “You know how they always play into Our plans. Your role remains vital. They’ve figured that out too, so they’ve switched things up to try and throw you off.”

Norman, racked his mind. “So, then who …?”

“Norman, do you love Amy?” asked The Brother.

Norman blinked. “I, wow, that came out of nowhere. How do I even begin to answer?”

“Honestly,” The Brother replied.

“You already know,” Norman replied dimly.

The Brother wagged a finger. “Yes, but you don’t. I want you to figure it out, here and now. I won’t judge you.”

Norman sighed. “What kind of love are we talking about?”

“All them, especially the way I love you,” The Brother clarified.

Norman thought about it. Minutes passed as he reevaluated his interactions with Amy, leading up to that moment. She’d turned him down before, but The Brother always understood personal dynamics better than he did. Things could change. Finally, a smile settled onto his face.

“Yeah, I love her,” Norman confirmed. “Not sure how it came to this. I can’t believe we used to be at each other’s throats, but I’m so proud of her. She’s come a long way. Amy is easily my best friend, and I can’t imagine life without her.”

“Then love her, with everything you have,” implored The Brother. “She’s got a tricky path ahead of her, a life ripe with wonder or a slow burn death rife with nightmares. Help her choose life, and live it well. Take her hand as she climbs the mountains and walks the valleys. Be her guardrails on the straight and narrow. Together, you two can be more than enough, because I’ll be in your corner every step of the way … shipping you with the might of a bajillion fandoms! Now go forth and get me a baby the right way!”

An uncomfortable smirk squirmed its way across Norman’s face. “Um, what?”

The Brother ignored it. “If you can’t figure out how, outsource the baby with the instruction manual I gave you!”

“Excuse me?” Norman almost squeaked.

“I don’t care if your daughter’s seventy four and within your age group! I want that baby!” The Brother insisted.

“Since when was I seventy four!?” blurted Norman.

Thunder rippled from the distance. He squirmed out of The Brother’s grip and listened. It didn’t quite sound right, which was why Norman recognised it.

“It’s here? Now?” he asked, looking to The Brother for confirmation.

The Brother was gone. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. The Brother was always busy behind the scenes. Norman got the smaller jobs, but he wasn’t alone.

Norman steeled himself with a breath. What was he supposed to do? If it wasn’t meant to be, should he sit this out?

Norman rocked on his heels, hands in pockets as the thunder drew nearer. Well, it was definitely approaching him. Just because he wasn’t head of the spear didn’t mean this one was meant for someone else. The Brother’s predictions seldom played out the way he expected. Until instructed otherwise, it was on him to deal with this, one way or another.

He was going out there.

Norman stepped outside into the cool twilight and looked up. He saw a cloud, laced with the slightest trace of pink. If he didn’t know what to look for, he wouldn’t have noticed it. The moment he laid eyes on that cloud, intricate concentric circles sprang to its surface, swirling as they faced him. He felt them at the borders his mind like fish hooks dangling for curious nibblers.

He wasn’t biting, and he wasn’t impressed.

An ethereal enigma of rosy pink descended from the cloud, closing in on him. Its shifting form bloomed like a flower. Its tentacles danced like a kraken of the sky. The wind picked up as it drew near, like a storm rolling in.

Around Norman’s home, modified searchlights standing vigil swiveled to face it, prepped to pour forth their light. He typed a few commands into his phone and they stood down.

The clouds crooned a haunting song that swept across the neighbourhood, beckoning him.

“̷̟̘͂̈́O̶̹͔̫͑̍Ö̸͎͍͚́O̶͉̕M̸̡̩̲̈͝M̴͉̆͌M̸̡͛̔̇ͅŎ̸̲́́ ̷̨̦̙̑̆̓…̴̢̤̰͗”̶̥͛̆͘

Hmm … nope. Not his taste in music. He popped in his earbuds and scrolled through a playlist, tapping a tune. Driving rock exploded from the speakers. It was the kind of song that made him feel to lock himself in a room with an eldritch horror and punch it in the face. He closed his eyes as the lyrics blared hard into his ears.

🎵 WITNESS, FOR THE NIGHT IS BRIGHTENING!

🎵 WATCH ME BLAZE A TRAIL FOR YOU!

🎵 I WILL BE YOUR STORM AND LIGHTNING!

🎵 I’LL BECOME ENOUGH FOR YOU!

A familiar fragrance wafted past him. He knew that aroma therapy too well. Strands of hair brushed across his cheek as the lovely scent passed him by.

His eyes shot open. He saw her from the back: a short young woman with toffee skin. Her hair flailed in the wind in wispy tendrils, in tandem with the tentacles of the beast above them. Slow, mindless steps told the tale as she looked up at the concentric circles spinning in the sky. Norman didn’t need to see her face.

“AMY!” he screamed.

She jolted, snapping out of her trance as she spun to face him. Her big, brown eyes were alit with confusion.

“N-Norman?” Amy exclaimed.

A tendril of red lightning snaked from the sky. Norman rushed in front of her. Throwing his arms around Amy, he shielded her with his body.

The lightning curved over him.

( ( ZThhooOOMM! ) )

His skin stung with the secondhand lash of static electricity. She felt lighter in his arms. Her body went limp. The smell … it was unthinkable, but there was one sensory shock more horrible. Steaming between her shoulders was the gap where her head had been. Why her? She wasn’t prepared for this!

Norman whirled and roared at the atmospheric entity. It drifted away, apparently sated.

“HEY! HEY!” Norman raged. “YOU FORGOT ME! COME BACK! I’LL KILL YOU!”

The entity halted. It spasmed, then stilled.

"…̴̍͜ ̷̃̌Ǎ̵M̸͚̟̀̎Y̶͆̇,̵̠̏̍ ̵̳̫̆א̸̸ַ̱̦͕̂̆ת̸̶̶ָּ̢̝͔͔̝̇̅̄̀̓ה̴͈́ ̸̜̬͝ר̵̷ָ̺̼̞͋́̃א̷͍̚ו̷̶ּ̥͕̝̣̇̊̃י̷̢̬̋́"

It boomed.

"א̸͙̹̒̉נ̶̰͗י̷̨̆̋ͅ ̴̫͘מקב̷̣̺̏ל̴̢̈́ א̶̞͒ו̸ת̵͈̏ך̷̪̣́ ̶͔̒̉כא̷̪̆ד̴͊ו̶̧̗͘נ̷̧͎̄̀י̵̍”̸̜̊"

~

Norman jolted awake. It was late afternoon. The perils of The Night Shift had wrecked his sleeping habits, but waking up this late was strange even for him. The daylight should have brought comfort, but he hadn’t heard from Amy since yesterday. That in itself was not unusual, but all things considered …

He picked up his phone and made the call. It almost rang off. Finally, he got an answer. From the other end, he heard … sounds … like the moan of restless wind and lost souls.

So, it had happened.

“… Amy?” Norman ventured.

No answer.

Then, from the moans evolved something like a whale song, but not. It stopped, began again, and paused.

The moments wore on.

Norman massaged his brow with a heavy sigh. “Take your time, Amy. I know you’re disoriented. Try again.”

He waited. The sounds returned. This time, they forced themselves into something vaguely approximating a voice.

“̴͍̐N̷̤̦͖͖͎̟̑͋̕ń̶̟̿̀̓́n̸̫̣̤̘̼͔̈̎̃ ̸̆̓̈͜…̸͚͉̺̝̈̊ ̸̼̏̾́̅N̶̡̯̅̿̉͘͘͝u̸̹̤̝͈̭̯̇͆̿̊̓h̵̰͍̘͖̤̍̐͝ ̷̖̋̆̓̍…̶̛͔͇̊̂͒͐̃ ̴̙̱͇̐̀͘Ǹ̴͎̕ǫ̴͉̣̍ơ̸̘̻̐ǫ̶̖̀̽͐o̴̰̻͐̐ŕ̷̝̟̀̐ř̷͚̩̺̇̃r̶͕͓̤͐́m̷̗̱̣͒a̴̪͊͆ń̷̗͠n̶̥̗̑̀̈́n̵͚͈̗͑̒̄?̴̤̫̼̌̀”̸̫̂ it intoned.