Two days later—
U.S.
Kansas
09:25AM
“… uh… Hi Vincent… I don’t know if you can get this call, but I called… I don’t know how you’re doing… I was on the phone with Caroline before, and I realized … maybe I should…”
Rand, holding his phone, stammered something he couldn't take anymore, and after a frustrated "Damn" he canceled the recording. Then he fell heavily on the bed, and after a long time, he let out a long sigh.
The phone screen is back in the dark, and it has a wonderful smell to the weird slime that surrounded it two days ago.
For the first time, Rand mustered up the courage to call the number that could directly contact Vincent, but after a long period of mental preparation, he was greeted by a voicemail.
I have to say that this made Rand feel unspeakable anxiety and panic. Caroline's previous attitude towards him made him have all kinds of bad guesses about Vincent's condition. Those guesses seemed to be hidden in the fabric. The needles made him feel uneasy.
Under normal circumstances, Rand would go to Washington to confirm Vincent's safety with his own eyes anyway, but for him now, this is extremely difficult...
"Bang bang bang-"
The door was knocked.
"I'll be right there."
Rand shouted to the door. He tried to get up from the bed, but a pair of cold and pale hands stretched out from the quilt and wrapped around Rand's waist.
Munster's face, which at first glance reminds one of the protagonist of a Japanese horror film, is pressed against Rand's waist, rubbing against Rand's shirt like a newly weaned pet dog.
It sniffed the fragrances in the air that humans couldn't detect, and then said to Rand, "It's Rogers."
"Uh, thanks for letting me know... well, let me go, Munster, I'll have to go and open the door for him, or we'll both be hungry."
"I don't like him, I don't need his food, I can hunt for you..."
Rand sighed again, ignoring Munster's sincere offer. He reached out to touch Munster's long, tousled silver hair and tried unsuccessfully to push it away. Instead, Munster tilted his head when Rand stretched out his hand, and licked Rand's fingers one by one with his lips.
"Rand..." It kept shouting the name, happy that it finally had a complete vocal system, at least it was now so low and magnetic when it called Rand's name - a voice that humans like.
"You smell like honey and roses..."
It licked its lips that had just touched Rand's finger, and sighed in ecstasy (he had learned these poor compliments from old TV shows), unaware that the facial expressions of the human beside him distorted.
Obviously, a certain little monster did not realize the impact of his current appearance on an ordinary human being.
Rand was trying to get used to what it was, but it was harder than he thought.
First of all, Munster's body... To put it more rigorously, a part of its body is completely the same as that of a middle-aged man. Even though its lower body remains in the shape of a fish (even this now needs a question mark), its unusually strong muscles and large chest make it very different from before. It only needs one hand to hold Rand in his arms, and even hold a coffee cup firmly on his well-developed pectoral muscles.
As an adult normal human male without any strange sexual fetishes, Rand is full of physical resistance to Munster's current appearance, but it is distressing that after the appearance change, Munster's appearance is like a small The animal-like clingy and coquettish personality has become more severe.
In other words, it has sensed Rand's resistance to what it is now, and a strong sense of insecurity has forced it to become more clingy than before, more eager to draw from Rand the favor he once had.
- It's a vicious circle.
For Rand, Munster's previously lovable quality had become his greatest distress.
As it was now, when Munster tried to put Rand's fingers in his mouth, Rand almost bristled and jumped up and screamed like a frightened cat.
Fortunately, Rand finally held back, considering the blow Munster would take if he did.
With goosebumps, he broke free from Munster's loving embrace, walked quickly to the door, and opened the door to Rogers, who had been waiting at the door for a long time.
"You know what? Rand, I do have a delusion sometimes, did I just disturb something with you and your little pet—well, don't make that look, it's just a joke ..." Rogers came in, grumbling, two plates in hand, one of bright red "venison" and the other of unappetizing boiled beans, mashed spinach and meatballs.
When he saw the mucus remaining in the living room, there was an expression on his face that he couldn't hide.
"Oh god, I don't think I'll ever get used to this," he said.
The slime that Munster left behind when he transformed is one of Rand's tough life challenges right now.
They're dry, hard and pliable after a few hours, and getting them off a room's carpet, walls, and ceiling is like digging a subway tunnel into hell.
Rand shrugged and smiled wryly at Rogers.
"Hey, don't bring this up, I'm worried I'm going to have indigestion..." Then he stared at the food on the plate, paused, and continued, "Although I have some indigestion looking at this now."
Rogers gave him a roll of eyes.
"God, I've tried my best, at least you don't have food poisoning, it's a huge improvement! If I can, I'd like to find takeaway, sushi, Chinese food, even pizza, but only if those people Willing to break through the 'Maginot Line' outside your door! I heard that the delivery guy who delivered you pizza was about to collapse due to being harassed by reporters."
As he spoke, he walked to the window and carefully opened a corner of the curtain.
The reporters' cars were parked outside Rand's apartment, and those idle reporters were like vultures waiting beside the corpse, staring at Rand's apartment.
—They constituted the second of the grim dilemmas of Rand's life.
It was just such a small movement of opening the curtain, but Rogers was still very keenly aware that some reporters had raised the high-powered binoculars in their hands.
"Damn..."
He quickly lowered the curtains, then yelled at Rand in horror.
"Why didn't I realize you were such a terrible celebrity before."
There was more bitterness in the wry smile on Rand's face, and he didn't even dare to approach the window - even though the curtains had been drawn down, he was still full of instinctive fear of that place.
"Probably because Vincent was still there at that time..." After mentioning Vincent, his heart tightened for a moment due to the tingling pain, Rand's face changed slightly, but it continued quickly, "And, at that time I I haven't encountered that damn explosion, and I haven't been involved in that damn case of dismemberment after the assassination..."
…
After mentioning the "dismemberment case", both Rand and Rogers fell silent.
Of course, Rand was because of that suppressed anger, and Rogers... He blinked, and a flash of pleasure flashed across his eyes.
That horrific murder broke out yesterday—just after Rand thought he couldn't be more unlucky.
The FBI removed Rand's protective surveillance this morning after establishing a link between the victim of the dismemberment and the newspaper bombing. But this did not make Rand feel even the slightest relief.
The dozen people who were brutally murdered happened to be the main messenger of the newspaper bombing, and Rand Sivers, who had been involved in the serial murder case more than ten years ago.
In line with the various rumors that have been entangled in Shenbai Biotechnology recently.
Money, tragedy, slaughter... Rand is like a piece of flesh and blood exposed to a swarm of flies, almost teasing the bloodthirsty nerves of the American media to an inextricable level. The whole of the United States was caught in a carnival, and the intensive reports swept all media platforms like a hurricane.
Thanks to the building's security measures, those reporters could not enter the apartment, but at the same time, Rand was completely trapped in his home by the group of damn reporters, relying on Rogers to bring him food and daily necessities.
He didn't dare to appear in the media's field of vision at all. You know, even the bag of garbage he threw yesterday was picked up by the group of reporters - ten minutes later, he saw every single garbage in it on various social media. Clear big picture and people's guesses about him.
This feeling is simply disgusting, as unbearable as someone mentally vivisection him...
Perhaps because Rand's face was too terrifying, Rogers suddenly came over and patted him on the shoulder.
"That's none of your business, man, you're just not so lucky, brace yourself, you know, your 'dog' is counting on you."
"Please, don't bring this up."
Rand wiped his face vigorously, begging Rogers to let him go.
Rogers' face became serious.
"I think it's going to be a big hassle, especially if you're going to have to figure it out. If it's just you, I might be able to take you out and get away from here, knowing that I'm on the outskirts There is a hut…”
"puff-"
A jet of water nearly sprayed directly onto Rogers.
Of course, he dodged with unbelievable agility.
"Munster?!"
Rand stood up and was shocked to see the "dog" in Rogers' mouth was leaning on the back of the sofa angrily, making waves of threats. Its long hair spreads out behind it like the tail feathers of a peacock.
Rogers jumped up and stepped back.
"Wow, gosh, calm down, man..."
"Rand is mine! Only mine! He's not going anywhere!"
It expresses uncharacteristic anger at Rogers' close encounter with Rand (although the so-called "close encounter" is just a slap on the shoulder).
The hormones flooding this young fish in the early stages of estrus give it a blatant monopoly on its mate, along with an extremely low level of self-control and hyper-arousal—of course, it doesn't know it.
And neither will Rand.
So after Munster showed Rogers his blue-veined muscles, hair-like tentacles full of tiny poison glands, and sharp teeth inside his mouth, and tried to attack him - he couldn't bear to grab the newspaper on the coffee table and slammed it towards him. Hit it on the forehead.