New chapter.
CHAPTER SEVEN:
Plausible and Implausible
It managed to get away from the hullabaloo (which did attract the RAFians' attention, and it wasn't ready for a second encounter from them, at least, until it had a better grasp of what they were). It was no longer in the boy-playing-scientist, but inside a teenaged truant.
"Those four," he said, with the boy's mouth, voice, and tongue. "And the cats. There was something about them . . . something. But
what?"
The truant jerked as the body-jacker left him and entered into a rather twiggy twelve-year-old boy who shaves his head. The boy's consciousness immediately went dormant, as F1's consciousness easily became the dominant mind. It rolled the boy's shoulders as it adjusted to the newness of this body. It didn't really have to, just chose to.
"What makes them so different from all these?" he said aloud, referring to this and its past hosts. "What makes them so . . . wait a moment . . . ugh."
The body-jacker passed into a police officer.
"Are they truly different? Are they truly . . . special?"
"What?" said the officer's partner.
"Shut up," F1 replied, with the officer's voice, but none of his mannerisms.
"What?" the other officer said, offended. But F1 had abandoned the officer for a passing man with a pointed chin and hooked nose who wore a black cloak and a derby. F1 left the officer to deal with the fallout of its actions -- it didn't care how it turned out.
F1 was glancing at this man's hands as she walked, "driving" his body without any awareness from the rightful consciousness of this body.
"Perhaps," it said, with his voice, "just perhaps . . ."
Then, with a gasp, it was out. Thanks to the body-jacker, it was now inside a drunkard, immediately disliking it, simply for it's inebriated state. It found it absolutely repulsive.
It quickly jumped and jacked the body of round-headed boy with sparse hair (which he covered with a red cap). This boy wore a yellow shirt with a black zigzag around the middle, brown shorts, yellow socks, and brown loafers.
"Good grief," it said, when it had asserted its mental dominance, "that was a
horrid body."
Then the body-jacker sent it into a nun, then quickly into little girl with a blue dress with moderate-length black hair thereafter, but it didn't mind this time, as it remembered it's idea.
"Perhaps," it said, with the girl's voice, but the mannerisms of someone significantly older. "Perhaps . . . I already discovered the body to make my permanent home. I must go and find it again."
It turned around, and contorted the girl's face into a pensive, thoughtful look. Then it found itself inside a tall teenager in a basketball jersey. It didn't mind, but twisted the boy's face into one of decisive determination . . . which was transferred to the teen's friends, as F1 body-hopped, deliberately not staying long in each body.
The body-jacker cannot tire out, and bodies can. F1 didn't care to experience that in its deliberation to get back. Or at least, that was its excuse.
From the last basketball player to a boy in a green sweatshirt, brown slacks, and a backward blue baseball cap. From that boy to a bride, to her groom, to a little boy dressed up as Pinocchio, to a stock car driver, to a boy in a black shirt, jean jacket, blue jeans, and baseball cap, to a kid in a yellow shirt, blue short, red shoes and an askew blue cap, to a --
***
"You think what you guys sense has anything thing to do with this?" Shadow asked, quietly.
They were investigating the triplets obvious fight and claims of a bouncing glowing orb.
"Possibly," Cloak said.
"Just 'possibly'?" Parker asked.
"It's not a precise thing," FuBar whispered in such a way that it could be misconstrued as coming from somewhere else.
"But something about it caught your attention," Aquilai observed, addressing Cloak. "What was it?"
"Not here," Cloak said, looking suspiciously around. And he wasn't just using his eyes to look around. "Some place less . . . open."
"Why?" Aquilai asked.
"Reasons," Cloak answered repressively. "And one very plausible one, I'm afraid. . . ."