The Tales of the Legendary Mimic : Momo

Strange Mind Gallery

Max, Lorne, and the rest of the squad stepped through the shattered doors in a tight formation. It was already noon outside, but in here the light died quickly.

What little brightness filtered in through broken windows and torn ceiling panels only managed to paint the lab in long, sickly beams. Dust drifted in the air like ash. Torn reports and scattered files carpeted the floor, mixed with toppled furniture and shattered glass.

A chair hung high on the wall near the ceiling, skewered by a long metal pole that had been driven clean through it. The pole also pinned a brittle, half‑crumbled skeleton in place. Whoever she had been—scientist, staff, or just someone who picked the wrong day to visit—the tatters of a lab coat and worn blouse still betrayed a feminine shape.

Max swallowed, feeling the weight of the place settle over him.

Captain Jane raised a fist, signaling a halt. Her voice came out low but steady.

“Reform. We’re splitting into three teams. Everyone else stays outside and holds the perimeter.”

Boots scraped softly as the squad shifted. Men who had been ready to charge in now turned back toward the entrance, posting up to guard the ruined doors and surrounding corridors.

Inside, Jane laid out the groups.

“Group A: me and Sir Lorne,” she said. “We sweep ahead, clear threats, and secure a path.”

She turned her gaze to Max.

“Group B: Max, Marc, and Professor Garfield. You’re to help Sir Garfield in his mission. Anything related to that ‘item’ or high‑priority tech, you bag it.”

Finally, she nodded toward Sarah and Henrik.

“Group C: Sarah, Henrik, and Rios. You’re on data and intel. Pull anything useful—experiment logs, research notes, recordings. If it looks important, take it. If you can’t take it, photograph it.”

Sarah’s jaw tightened in excitement, she finally gotto use the camera though dumb Henrik was on her team but who cares.

Marc, to Max’s mild surprise, hadn’t bolted. For someone who complained as much as he did and clung to that launcher like a baby, he was still here. Jane caught herself glancing at him once, the faintest flicker of guilt passing through her eyes. Maybe she’d misjudged him.

Sarah didn’t look convinced, but she buried her thoughts. There would be time for that later. Or not.

Once everyone had their assignments, they adjusted positions and began moving deeper into the lab’s dim corridors.

They managed only a dozen steps before a sharp crack echoed behind them.

It sounded like snapping wood.

Weapons came up instantly. In one smooth motion, half a dozen barrels swung toward the shadowed entrance. Fingers tightened on triggers. One wrong twitch and whoever stepped through would be erased.

“Hold,” Jane snapped—but she didn’t lower her gun.

A figure stepped into view, hands raised.

“Sorry! Sorry, it’s just me!”

Dr. Siri, the military medic, stood in the doorway with an apologetic smile, a crate of supplies hugged to her chest, shaking from her quivering legs.

Jane exhaled hard, lowering her rifle.

“Goodness, Siri,” she muttered. “I almost blasted you to bits. Days like this aren’t great for my nerves.”

Siri gave a sheepish shrug. “Point taken. Still… could be worse. At least you didn’t shoot first.”

She hesitated, then glanced past Jane at the groups forming inside.

“Any chance you need a doctor with you?” she asked. “Going into a place like this without medical support is… optimistic.”

Henrik nodded at once. “It would be wise to have her along, Captain. The deeper we go, the more likely we are to need emergency treatment.”

Max shook his head before Jane could answer.

“No offense, Doc,” he said, meeting Siri’s eyes. “But this is a bad place for you. You’re not trained for frontline combat. If something goes wrong, you’ll give us one more person to protect.”

Siri blinked, then actually smiled.

“No offense taken,” she said. “That’s probably the smartest thing I’ve heard all week.”

Some of the soldiers, who clearly liked Dr. Siri, shifted uncomfortably. But they couldn’t really argue. Max was strong—stronger than most of them—and still he wasn’t bragging about keeping her safe. He was just honest.

Their respect for him ticked up another notch.

“Fine,” Siri said. “Then at least let me do my job before you all go get yourselves killed.”

She set down the crate and popped it open, revealing rows of small, labeled vials and pill bottles.

“These are geno‑improved pills,” she explained. “Short‑term boosts to strength and speed. And these”—she tapped another row—“stabilizers. They calm the mind and keep you from panicking or losing focus. Won’t do much for most of you—you’re already too stubborn—but they might smooth the edges.”

She handed three pills to each person.

Max didn’t bother to inspect them. He tossed all three into his mouth and swallowed them in one gulp.

Jane’s eye twitched.

“Max,” she hissed. “Are you trying to die young? You don’t just swallow unknown combat drugs like candy.”

He rolled his shoulders, testing the feeling in his limbs. Strength rushed in—his muscles tightened, his senses sharpened. His body felt lighter, faster. Not as overwhelming as when the goo fully encased his arm or wings, but noticeable. Useful.

Nice, he thought. But not amazing.

Then he felt something else.

A thin stream of energy peeled off from the rush inside him and flowed straight into his mimic pouch. The leather at his hip gave a faint, greedy twitch as it drank the power in.

That… wasn’t normal.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Doc,” Max asked casually, “you have more of those?”

Siri hesitated. “A few. Why?”

“Just in case,” he said. “We might be down there for a while.”

She frowned, then handed over what remained. It wasn’t much—just the last of the current batch—but she trusted him more than she understood him.

Jane and Lorne exchanged a look.

“Take mine too,” Lorne said, passing his pills over.

Jane followed with a reluctant sigh. “If you explode, I’m writing in my report that it was your idea.”

Professor Garfield watched all of this with bright, calculating eyes. He slid his own vial into his pocket, fingertips lingering on the glass. Then, after a heartbeat, he pulled it back out and added it to Max’s hand as well.

“Science requires data,” he murmured.

Max looked at the small mountain of pills in his palm.

Then he tipped his head back and swallowed all of them.

The reaction was immediate.

A hot pressure slammed into his gut, then raced through his veins like liquid fire. For a second, his vision went white.

Energy exploded outward from his body.

The air around him warped. A cocoon of crackling light and color wrapped him from head to toe, sealing him off from the world. Static prickled across the floor. Papers lifted into the air, drawn toward him in slow, spiraling motions.

“Max!” Jane shouted, taking a step forward.

Several soldiers raised their weapons again on instinct, unsure whether to rip the cocoon open or shoot it. Sarah cursed under her breath. Marc, predictably, took two careful steps backward.

Garfield, on the other hand, leaned in.

“Fascinating…” he whispered, eyes gleaming.

He circled the cocoon, jotting frantic notes into a battered field notebook. Occasionally, he reached out with a gloved hand, testing the energy shell, then pulling back with satisfied nods.

“It’s stable,” he finally announced. “Harmless to the surroundings. He’s undergoing some kind of forced adaptation. If we interrupt it, we might cause irreparable damage.”

“So we just… wait?” Jane demanded.

“For once, yes,” Garfield said. “And try not to shoot my most interesting subject.”

"Geez!!"