The shadow-creature stepped out of the dome-structure in which it found itself. It didn't stop to examine the cracked and broken crystal through which the sunlight now passed unfiltered, or to cough and wonder at the stench of fried electronic components. It did stop to glance at the insect-creature that had brought it into existence, lying unconscious just outside the dome; but he had already fulfilled his purpose, and held no further interest for it.
It was finishing its formation now, the vague dark shape coalescing into flesh and blood on the provided pattern, or rather what its own energy had made of the pattern. Corporeal form was so limiting; in energy form it could have found its target with ease. Yet this form was essential to the plan, essential to its purpose. Therefore, it must act within these limitations, however inconvenient. The creature carefully made its way through the building. This was not a heavily-occupied place, and the creation process had temporarily disabled the lights; therefore, it was simple to keep out of the way of prying eyes until the aftermath of the process was discovered and all attention diverted to that. Then it was out to the world at large.
It was now fully-formed, physically comprised of the same tissues and structures as its target. It opened one of the back doors of the building and stepped onto the sidewalk. Immediately it was met by something new, something entirely outside its knowledge. The tiny pits and ridges of the rough, weathered concreted pressed into the tender skin of its feet...sensation. Physical, tactile sensation. For some reason, this prompted a soft gasp from its mouth, though the creature was unable to discern the connection. It remained there for a moment, trying to adjust to this new form of input; but this was...not "pain," not indication of bodily damage.
If the creature was not impaired, then it must continue to work towards fulfilling its purpose. "Minus four" was its nature; somewhere in this area was its target, its pair. Exactly equivalent, on the opposite side of the spectrum...its goal was to meet its opposite, to effect a zero-summation...or to put it another way, mutual annihilation. This was its purpose; it need only fulfill it, and its own existence would be complete.
Muriel chewed her lip idly as she worked on trying to get something made for dinner. She knew Jenny wasn't really a picky eater, but she did want to make sure her adopted daughter got a decently varied diet. It was one thing for a single woman to live off of takeout, bagged salads, and a few standard dishes, but if she was going to be a mom, that meant she was responsible for looking after her little girl's health. It was more work, to be certain, but she did have some time to do it; she had the day off, as she'd been trying to figure out a split shift that would allow her to get her hours in and still be home when Jenny was.
Anyway, she was sure it would ultimately be worth it. Besides, she'd been meaning to do this for years now. She supposed she should call her mom and get some tips, and maybe ask Mrs. Gor-
The policewoman's thoughts were interrupted by a startled yowl from the living room. She dropped the knife on the counter and dashed over to see what was the matter. She found Tetra sitting on the couch, looking a little dazed, but none the worse for wear. She smirked. "What's up? Bad dreams interrupting your daily napping?"
The tiny catgirl frowned. "Uh, no. I just...got a little startled, is all. Can you open the window? I gotta go out for a bit..."
Muriel shrugged and slid the window open, and Tetra crouched down and sprang from the windowsill out into the yard. Muriel chuckled to herself as she shut the window, then turned to go back to her dinner. "Heh, cats..."
It was only a minute later that she realized what might be going on. She dashed out the door, so fast that she almost forgot to lock up.
Adam sighed as she headed into the back room for her lunch break. Things had actually been going all right, considering, but still...there was nothing like a morning of trying to live with her changes to make her realize just what an incredibly rash decision she'd made. It seemed like it might be true that she could live with these limitations...but the fact that she would have to was sobering. She'd made that decision, her one choice, and this was the result she was stuck with.
Her thoughts kept drifting back to the strange little air bubble, nestled safe and secure in a drawer at home. So much power in that thing, and all she could think was that just one little wish could solve her problems...but she knew that wasn't really true. It was tricky; she'd already screwed things up once by using it with perfectly good intent but zero knowledge of how it worked, and she had no desire to repeat that.
She thought she understood a little more now, maybe. It had fulfilled her wish that people could be changed back to normal by the sun by transporting Hedgeton into a world where the sun changed people back to normal. Perhaps it had something to do with places, with alternate worlds, or something. In which case, it was even more obviously risky; it might, for example, fulfill a wish for her to not be impaired by her changes by transporting her to a world populated entirely by harpies, or something...
This line of thought was interrupted when her phone rang. After fumbling with it for a moment, she got it out on the table and opened the line. "Uh, hello?" she said.
"Hello, is this Adam?" came a woman's voice. Adam confirmed that it was; she supposed she'd have a lot of callers asking whether they had the right number in the next few weeks...
"This is Toby Cooper," the woman said. "Riley's father. I just wanted to let you know, we've talked it over, and we decided that it would be all right for you to pass on the information about Riley to your visitors from the other day."
Adam frowned as she tried to remember. "Oh, uh, yeah," she said. She'd almost forgotten about the government folks, in the aftermath of her transformation. "Uh, okay, thanks." She knew she had the number they'd given her, but she couldn't remember whether she'd put it in on her phone; likely not, since she didn't think she'd had time to figure out how to work it by that point. If it was written down at home, she'd just have to give them a call at the end of the day.
