Limitless Evolution As a Snake

I’m coiled against the wall, my heat pits catching a faint pulse in Harden’s neck. His heart hammers like a jackhammer, though you’d never guess from his calm face.

At last he speaks, loud enough to echo through the alley. "If we wanted you dead, little man, you’d be dead. So keep your head down and let the big dogs run the show."

[System: Who’s little? You’re twice his length when you rear up, mate.]

"I always thought my brother would pick someone meaner. More, alpha?" Hansen glances at Harden for backup, but he just shrugs.

Leaning in, he hisses, "What makes you so special, huh? What did you do that the rest of us didn’t?"

If this were a movie, I’d deliver some badass line about destiny or survival, but all I have is the truth. "I didn’t die," I say. "That’s it."

Harden’s jaw hangs open. Hansen squints, his head tilted as if trying to work out a difficult puzzle.

[System: Told you, mate. Survival of the dumbest. Also, I spawned you myself, as I said before! Call me daddy.]

I am, for the 100th time, not calling you daddy.

[System: I’ll give you the 1k exp you need.]

D- Nah, I can’t do it.

[System: Weak.]

They won’t hit me. That’s the point, I think. It’s psychological warfare.

Hansen fixes me with a cold stare. "You think you’ve got what it takes to run the family?"

He’s not asking.

I meet his gaze as best this cold-blooded red jelly noodle can. "I don’t want it," I say, honest as an open casket. "I just want to be left alone. I really don’t want any responsibility."

Harden laughs so hard he doubles over. "Left alone, he says! We know your games, know what you’re after."

Hansen shakes his head. "The game’s already started."

"Cool talk, uncles. Real motivational." I slither away, gliding toward the next alley.

[System: So, heir of the year. What’s your next move?]

Hansen spits on the ground, grins all fangs, then turns away with hands in his pockets like he’s forgotten me.

Harden follows, muttering "soft little bastard" and "should’ve drowned it in the flush."

And they’re gone.

I curl in shadow behind the dumpster, listening until their footsteps fade.

[System: That went alright, eh? Nobody even lost an eye.]

I press my ventral scales flat against the cold concrete, trying to remember if I ever had a choice. Turns out I didn’t, but at least now I know the rules. Being bullied by family leaves a weird scar; you joke about it so it can’t sink into your head. I force myself to forget Hansen’s threat, Harden’s "drowned it in the flush", as he meant it, and he did.

[System: That guy’s got all the emotional maturity of a brick, yeah?]

I uncoil stretch out a bit and check the alley again. Think they’re done?

[System: Not even close, mate. But you know what they say: small snake, loud hood.]

What does that even mean?

Then I hear heavy footsteps, like four filing cabinets dropped down a flight of stairs. I freeze mid-stretch, half-pressed against the wall.

Four figures appear, as massive and solid as boulders. Elephant guys, built as the world ran out of subtlety. Their tactical vests strain over chests that could bench a car. Brass-capped tusks gleam under the pale light.

[System: Oh no, wait, oh yes! Let’s test out some skills.]

"Yeah," I mutter. "Oh no."

They fan out, boxing me in. One plants himself in front of me, blocking any slither escape. Another climbs the fire escape ladder. The third and fourth guard the only other gap, trunks swaying.

"Matt, I’m guessing?" the biggest growls, voice like a wood chipper. "Your uncles sent us."

"Course they did, not for a welcome-to-the-family party," I hiss. "Deed or death scenario? Real coin-flip odds."

No answer; they close in, ground trembling under their weight.

[System: Mate, these blokes look like they bench-press buildings for fun.]

I let out a low hiss to keep from spiralling. Then, for reasons I can’t explain, I blurt, "Are you guys a boy band? YMCA tribute act?"

Dead silence; one actually pauses, trunk twitching like he’s considering if he’s offended or not.

[System: NAH, nah, you didn’t just do that, you actually want to die huh?]

The big one’s ears flatten. For a second, I think I’ve talked my way into a slower stomp. Then his tusks catch the light, and any illusion of me winning with humour vanishes.

"Grab him," he orders.

I don’t wait to see who moves first.

I’m already moving, slithering so quickly you could call it gliding; maybe I should try that later if I survive this. I’m already moving low and fast, cutting hard toward the dumpster gap on my left; these guys are huge and slow, so i should be able to get away.

I almost make it.

Something catches my wings above me, a weighted rope net, and I pull a sharp right on pure panic instinct.

It slaps me back to the concrete where I just was. These guys came with equipment, that’s new, but that’s bad.

[System: Okay so they’ve done this before, yeah?]

Clearly.

I double back toward the fire escape, the only angle they haven’t fully closed, but the guy up top is already descending, unhurried.

Ahh, he’s going slow; that can’t be good.

[System: Four of them, one of you. Net already deployed, Mate, I’d say the odds are-]

I activate [Surprise Soap-Bomb].

Ten bubbles emerge from my snout. They just... float there. Catching the light all gently. Beautifully. Going absolutely nowhere fast.

The fire escape guy freezes mid-walk, staring down at them with his trunk half-raised. A long pause, then his whole chest starts heaving.

"Bro." He can barely get it out. "Bro, what is-" He’s gripping the ladder with both hands now, not to descend, just to stay upright. "This is your move? Bubbles? You blew bubbles at me?"

[System: Yyyyep. And here’s the thing about that...]

The first one reaches him.

*Pop.*

The ladder bracket tears clean off the wall.

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