1.04

A chill ran through me. I should’ve gotten a burner phone. I had EpiPens, pepper spray, and chalk dust in a pouch on my armor, but no phone to call the real heroes. Lung was going to attack some kids, and I was the only one who knew. It was insane, unbelievable.

Lung barked orders in another language, grabbed a minion’s arm to check the time, then left with twenty or so gang members. I was out of time and options. I closed my eyes, focused, and took control of every bug in the area.

Attack.

The swarm was a cacophony of sensations, bites, and stings. I could “see” the gang members through the bugs, a writhing mass of bodies. I held back the venomous ones for now, not wanting to kill anyone. Then, fire. Lung was shooting flames from his hands, killing many of my bugs. Adrenaline surged. Was that all he had? I directed the swarm to converge, a living trap. He’d have to burn his own men to get to the bugs.

I sent in the venomous reserves: bees, wasps, spiders, fire ants. He was a big guy, he could take it. I’d read that healing powers negated poisons, so I needed to overwhelm him. His body was already starting to transform, metallic scales erupting from his skin. I directed the flying insects to his face, the crawlers to… more sensitive areas. I felt a pang of guilt, but pushed it down. He was a monster, a killer.

He exploded, a living bomb. Twice. His men fled. He emerged from the smoke, scaled, burning, clothes in rags. Damn. Was he fireproof? He roared, a human sound of rage. Lights flickered on in the neighborhood. Idiots. Didn’t they know to stay away?

I sent in more bugs, harmless ones. He burned them away. Each burst of flame was stronger, more dangerous. My earlier glee was gone, replaced by doubt. I was running out of bugs, out of options. I had to get creative, meaner.

A wasp to the eye. He blinked, catching it on his eyelid. Another explosion of fire. I tried again with a honeybee. It struck true, sinking into his eyeball, then again into the corner of his eye. It died, leaving its venom sac behind. He didn’t explode. He set himself on fire, head to toe. My heart sank. He was still burning, still fighting.

He turned, searching for me, hunching over. Was the venom working? Then his back split, metallic scales erupting along his spine. He grew taller, stronger. Still on fire. I was spooked. Time for an exit strategy. His men were scattered, his plans ruined. I’d done what I could.

Justifications aside, I wanted to run. If he grew wings, I was done for. I turned to leave, and he whirled around, staring right at me. Enhanced hearing. Damn it. A victorious roar, less human than before. I was caught.