Chapter 17:

Sirens were blaring everywhere, and the yellow flashing lights were making it unmistakably clear that someone would be catching Yuri before long. And given his ignorance of the current situation — things were clearly not stacking up in his favour. He wasn't sure what capabilities his opponents possessed, and his own ability to move was being suppressed. How well his abilities could function here at all also remained an open question — but given that he had been able to be where he wasn't — the significance of the suppression was itself in doubt.

Given that the number of opponents was equally unknown — he should make it so that there were many of him. However, the space was far from spacious, and too great a number could cause problems for Yuri himself. So it was more logical to make only one more copy and move in different directions — to scout the situation and find an exit. But just one copy represented a fairly high level of risk: what if it was eliminated? Yuri would feel it, of course — but that didn't mean he'd have more options. So two copies were made rather than one.

Not that he could maintain contact with his copies — well, apart from confirming the fact of whether they existed or not. But each copy was identical to Yuri himself, so in an emergency it could substitute for the main body — though how "main" that body actually was also remained in question.

Obviously, time was pressing. Yuri could already hear the sound of people approaching, and no escape routes had been found. Were negotiations possible? Sure — and his current appearance was also the most masculine imaginable on this godforsaken planet.

And right now the people in purple jumpsuits standing before him with assault rifles — that was also an exclusively diplomatic gesture, posing no direct threat to him whatsoever.

— G...get back to the containment cell! O...otherwise we will shoot!

Interesting — what if he played dumb right now? Would that work?

— Oh! You are absolutely right, sir! But could you please escort me to that place? I seem to have gotten lost...

Good lord, why did he even open his mouth. That was such an absurd suggestion that the level of shame in his blood was beginning to spike at a staggering rate.

— Just d...don't try anything funny!

No, was this a joke? Did that actually... work?

— Of course! But shouldn't you handcuff my hands? I am, after all, something worthy of being captured and confined! And it would probably be very uncomfortable for you if I were walking around behind you fully mobile?

Was he overplaying it? Did his voice sound too forced?

— Don't m...move — I'm p...putting them on now!

Remarkably — he really did put them on. What's more — these handcuffs were just... completely ordinary handcuffs? Why the question mark? Because Yuri had obviously become some kind of paranormal monster — and these guys were seriously trying to restrain him with a pair of metal bracelets? This was the same as tying a fully healthy adult man with the little rubber-band bracelets that kids love to weave in primary school, and saying: "You won't get out of these!"

Perhaps this organisation was not as threatening as he had initially assumed. But that didn't change the fact that somehow they had managed to limit his "skip" — which meant their weapons could most likely pose a real threat. And even now, as Yuri was being led back to that grey box — the labyrinthine corridors were awakening his long-forgotten sense of direction which, to put it kindly, had always been non-existent.

And exactly how was Yuri supposed to escape from here? Take a hostage? And what if they pointed their guns at him? He was no longer human, of course — but a bullet subject to the laws of physics still seemed faster than the reaction time of anomalies not subject to physics. Though when they fired a laser at him — he had managed to dodge it. And a laser moves at the speed of light. So Yuri's teleportation was faster?

They say that if you don't know magic — everything seems like physics, or something along those lines. But physics only governs mere fodder. Not Yuri — he wasn't just fodder! He was fodder among anomalies!

...

That seemed demotivating. But the message remained the same — as did the score against physics: 1 to 0 in Yuri's favour. Although these nervous men in dark purple jumpsuits were apparently nearing their destination — judging by the relief appearing on their faces.

— Oh, you are such lovely company! But surely it must have been difficult finding me in this enormous complex of concrete walls. I do hope your superior will be able to reward you for your work with a bonus — because you are very lovely fellows.

— We don't get paid bonuses...

Probably due to his human appearance and the general sense of absence of danger — or the proximity of their destination — the men who had until recently been extremely nervous were considerably more relaxed, and were even speaking without any stumbling or stuttering. There were even hints of grievance in their voices. Well, Yuri didn't particularly care about their circumstances — but relaxation combined with prior stress usually makes a person's tongue considerably looser. So now was the perfect time to ask questions.

— How distressing! If I were your superior — I would never allow such catastrophic negligence to befall such wonderful workers as yourselves! I would even convert my office into a rest room to boost employee motivation!

Yuri was hoping they would take the bait. Their appearance was fairly screaming that the living conditions of these men were worse than those of migrant workers on a construction site. It would be unfortunate if their superior had no private room or office — but then there must be somewhere else she could be. From personal experience — hatred toward management always accumulates somewhere, and all you have to do is show a little that you share it — and endless complaints come pouring out. There had to be at least some useful information among them.

— That four-eyed little bi**h?! She's got a pretty face, sure — but her body is clearly shameless! That figure, that look! If this creature didn't have so much power and pull — I'd drag her into the supply closet and...

— Tch, you thick-headed idiot! What supply closet — this b*tch needs to be properly punished right next to the dumpster!

— Both of you shut the f**k up! Until daddy's shown who's got the bigger one here! You're just stupid apes driven by instinct — real pleasure lies in... Um, well I mean, you don't count of course, ma'am — you're above a woman. I mean you're not ugly like a non-woman, what I mean is compared to that stupid b*tch...

Yuri didn't know it, but the majority of employees in purple jumpsuits were convicts sentenced to death — which meant their tongues, given even the slightest freedom, invariably descended into total vulgarity. And their dealings with anomalies had taught them beautifully to bow the knee before the strong — and just as readily to kick the weak with that same knee.

But there was useful information nonetheless. Their superior was definitely sexually attractive, wore glasses, and held a high position.

Yuri needed to spend a couple of seconds cross-referencing his list of ideal hostage candidates. Hm. He checked the list thoroughly — and she seemed to be a perfect fit. And this was absolutely not because during his review of the list, Yuri's conscience had been jointly bribed by his mercenary instincts and self-preservation instinct. She was simply a genuinely excellent candidate.

— Having heard your description — I truly feel sorry for you. Surely this spawn of hell also has an absolutely revolting smell. She's probably only attractive thanks to her age.

— Not at all, ma'am! This dog always smells of lavender — she does so little that she doesn't even sweat. Unlike us, the Foundation's brave hardworking lads! And age? This old woman is well past sixty-seven!

Yuri had obtained all the necessary information — however, he had also developed a number of doubts about the sexual preferences of the men standing before him. But a fondness for grandmothers wasn't anything unlawful. The more wrinkled the raisin — the sweeter it is? Well, he wasn't a fan of raisins regardless. Especially wrinkled ones.

Bleh.

He should probably pick up the scent of this "raisin." But the moment he sniffed around — an unexpected discovery was made. This lady of respectable age was close by. Seriously and catastrophically close.

Well, I think what Yuri did next was fairly obvious.

— Bye!

He left the men in purple suits in complete solitude. Their faces were gradually darkening.

— Damn it. x3

Today they had once again learned an important sexist lesson. All women were b*tches...