"So, what else can be said? Your capacity. When you absorbed two Hunters—and don't glare at me like that, yes, while you were gone I ate them; they tasted just like the iguanas my former squad and I had to live on during one mission. Back to the point—when you swallowed them, you bloated pretty badly. You even walked sluggishly, and your belly was almost round. Right now, there's enough blood sloshing around inside you to account for at least three dozen people. And nothing! Nothing at all! You walked in here exactly the same as you were after that peculiar feast. Everything has a limit, which means you too couldn't have taken all of that into your body without changing.
"And yet I see the opposite. Conclusions? Either this amount is negligible for you now—in which case I can't even imagine how many victims you need for sustenance (first-rate ones, mind you—human), and the rest, say, evaporates through your pores or otherwise leaves the body. Or you have a horrifying metabolism, and you'll need to feed often, or your body will start consuming itself, to put it bluntly.
"Let's assume—just assume—that both options are wrong. After all, new biological species are still poorly studied by the corporation, so I have even less information on the matter (even less then less, since I wasn't exactly on the scientists' payroll), and as for the G-virus and what comes out of it—I won't even start; I'll be a pioneer there. PSI abilities, meanwhile, are scientifically proven and substantiated, and are even detected by our instruments. That same Hypnos on Sheena Island has the makings of certain abilities in that direction. Don't lick your lips—we need to get out of here first."
"Oh, come on. So I can't even dream anymore? Go on, I'm listening very carefully," I waved it off under the Four Eyes's displeased look.
"So then—even if we assume that you're fine and your body won't kill itself (we'll find out from the tests; get comfortable for now, I'll find a syringe)—remember where we are. All it takes is for you to walk along one of the main streets where the zombie fighting was heaviest, and the sheer influx of blood evenly coating the area could simply tear you apart. Besides, the infected themselves—the most primary ones—have plenty of wounds and the like in their bodies, and after killing and eating a victim they don't bother wiping themselves off, so you could drain them dry from a distance. Sounds useful, doesn't it?" Yamata said with a sly edge.
"I'm already guessing where the catch is. If that's the case, and I start siphoning blood from ordinary zombies at range, then considering their numbers—an entire city—it's better for me not to appear anywhere near them. What's more, since my—sorry, our—virus contains elements of the G-virus, and now the virus itself as well, we're constantly evolving. And how crowds of desiccated zombies would affect me—I'm afraid to even imagine." Borrowing the Four Eyes's knowledge, I analyzed the situation myself.
"Bravo. You've started using your head—commendable. But the G-virus is only in me, you vile liar! Some hero you turned out to be!" the Four Eyes suddenly flared.
"Were you worried?"
"Don't flatter yourself!" she snorted.
"Then let me put you at ease," I ignored her retort. "It's in me now, too. As for how you knew it wasn't in my blood when I left the lab—I can guess. The Hunter and I lost a fair amount of blood while we were beating the hell out of each other. And you, like a true scientist, collected samples. Am I right?"
"Of course!" the Four Eyes didn't even deny it; more than that, there were unmistakable notes of pride in her voice.
"Damn it!" Yamata stared in astonishment at the syringe needle, bent into the shape of an 'L.' After examining it for a couple of seconds, she silently straightened it with her fingers and, much more slowly this time—tracking every movement, hers and mine—tried to draw my blood again.
Oh. I completely forgot! Somehow I even got scared to admit that I've now become resistant to wounds from bladed weapons (if they're inflicted without acceleration or reinforcement). As for bullets, I'm not sure yet—but most likely they'll still get me, same as before. Meanwhile, the scientist raised her gloomy gaze to me, with a clearly readable threat in it—the second attempt had the same result.
"Maybe from the tongue instead?" I suggested.
"Better yet, you'll tell me what happened to you while you were gone," Yamata said—seemingly calm, yet unmistakably menacing.
"Oh, all right, I'll tell you. I was going to tell you everything anyway—before this randomly moving blood knocked me off balance," I said, closing my eyes wearily.
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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