I know, this time I definitely posted with huge delay and you know that I'm really sorry as always. The reasons are always the same: lack of time, will and inspiration. Forgive me.
I put a moment of "comic sense" because I felt like this chapter was too violent and tragic (not that I mind but I wanted to change something), I hope I will not appear ridiculous. I hope you will enjoy it too.

Warning: this chapter contains strong violence.

Reached the Queens, Alex stopped the car in front of the large gate of the military block and got down. As soon as he looked inside, he froze: a viral detector overlooked the emplacement, surrounded by well-armed soldiers and fortified walls. Cursing, he verified that there was no way to ring around the block: he swore under his breath and damned himself since he should have expected such a situation. He surely had been too reckless.

His companion stopped to the side of the gate and inserted his hand in a machine that at sight seemed to be a fingerprint reader: the control panel gave green light and the gate opened enough to let the man go in. Overstepped that, the soldier ran across the base and reached the general's office to the opposite side, passing through the detector that didn't give off a single sound. The shape-shifter carefully studied it and discovered that its range covered the whole emplacement: there wasn't a damn way to avoid it.

Entrusting himself to the luck, he opened the gate like Ghost had done before and ran towards the way out the faster he could (obviously not at his normal speed or they would have surely recognized him), ignoring the first signals of suspicious alert. However as soon as he was close to the second gate, which got on the streets of the city, a soldier suddenly sprang up in front of him with the hand lifted up to stop him, making him waver. He realized that luck spit right on his face when the bastard detector began to sound the total alert as it was sure of his presence.

He didn't even had the time to move a single muscle that immediately a hail of bullets flayed him on his back, making him groan in pain and fall on his knees; his biomass automatically restored the damaged tissue and then thickened and covered him completely, protecting him with a thick armor that could at least resist assault rifle's bullets.

The soldier in front of him stared at him for a moment, completely still and shocked, before he regained his senses and grabbed the radio hanged at his jacket to call for backup.

-Red Crown! We have Alex Merc...hrrggh- three huge blades pierced him side to side, brutally perforating his flesh.

-Don't. You. Dare.- the virus hissed in his last moments of life, before completely absorbing the man and acquiring new and fresh mass.

Immediately after he faced the remaining soldiers that stood behind him: he strongly planted the claws on the ground, spreading chasms on the concrete as if it was made of butter. Huge spikes rose from the same soil around him, directly hitting most of the military and staking them instantly. The remaining men were dismembered or absorbed at close range.

After the clean sweep, Alex quickly came out and ran on the street: he changed into a young women around 30 years old to turn out the least suspicious (he didn't even remember why he consumed her, maybe just for necessity) and he headed towards the closest shop, while tanks and military transports poured on the streets to reach the accident's location. Well, coming back home could have been a problem.

He entered the store and suddenly a sensation of refusal and annoyance hit him like a frozen shower: him, Alex Mercer, the most dreadful person of New York (maybe of the whole planet)...doing shopping.

...seriously? How the hell that stupid idea came to his mind? A sudden anger, blind and apparently implacable, burned him up his throat, frustrating him definitely too much. The point was...by now he was there and he even worked hard to get to that place. It wasn't worth going away, he might as well go on.

He swallowed hard and snorted as he ventured into the shop sections, feeling like the most ignorant person of the entire world in a nuclear power station surrounded by button of any kind that could have produced a massive catastrophe in a few seconds. Since he wanted to end that thing quickly, he used the memories of the normal people he had consumed, especially the ones from his host that was embodying, who seemed to be enough "skilled" in such tasks.

He randomly picked up some ready-food, like sandwiches and crackers since they were small enough to be carried in his jacket. He reached the exit and crossed the cash register with indifference: definitely a bad move.

-Where do you think you're going, miss? You have to pay!- the cashier barked out acidly approaching him and the virus' nerves jumped at her annoying voice.

-Get the fuck out of my way.- he hissed sharply, possibly making her perceive the threat that followed his tone.

Yet he forgot that he was in the shoes of a (apparently) charming and nice 30-year-old woman and the message he wanted to give didn't reach the destination.

-Excuse me?! I will call the police...!- the woman shouted on purpose, noticing the two policemen that were walking nearby and looking at them suspiciously.

-Do it, I dare you.- Alex growled, losing his patience.

The clerk wavered a bit as she didn't expected such answer, before she motioned to the cops to make them get closer. She looked at them confused as they suddenly stopped and blanched: she didn't have the time to turn again towards the shape-shifter that a large blade cut her in a half sideways in a moment, splattering blood against the two police offers that froze in front of him. Alex reacquired his original form without withdrawing his blade that instead leaned towards the two men.

-You want some too?- he said provocative with a sneer that crossed his face completely.

The cops looked at each other and then freaked out as they ran away, joining the crowd that had attended Alex's show and was now running everywhere. The virus laughed darkly while his arm returned normal and then he put the stolen food in his pockets that were fortunately large enough to contain them.

Suddenly a helicopter appeared out of nowhere down the road and shot a rocket right towards him. With a catlike reflex Alex jerked to the side and dodged it with agility as he growled loudly, now visibly pissed off.

"Enough."

He drew his claws threateningly as his eyes began to grow of a glowing dark red, but suddenly a brilliant idea flashed in his mind and made him run up a building, leaving cracks on the walls every step: he found his return ticket. While he was running vertically up the walls, his right arm changed form again: once he was on the roof he waited for the helicopter to come closer, dodging rockets and bullets jumping from rooftop to another. When it was close enough, he extended his mutated arm for an incredibly length, grabbed the wing and pulled it towards himself, while at the same time he took a running leap from the ledge.

The pilot apparently was smarter and cleverer than him: he abruptly turned the vehicle at the last moment and Alex violently banged against the tail, whose rotor ripped up his left shoulder. Fortunately he managed to cling at the vehicle and prevented from falling to the ground (not that it could make such damage but the fact was that he didn't want to lose the opportunity of a quick reentry to red zone), but the sharp and persistent pain on his shoulder made him irritatingly aware of the lack of biomass to heal the wound.

-You son of a bitch!- he yelled, jumping to the right wing with the other arm.

The helicopter rotated again, slamming him against the other wing, and just for a bloody miracle the main rotor didn't slice through his head. That would have been a giant problem. He held on the best he could with the injured arm to extend the healthy one, grab the cabin door and open it: he jumped inside immediately, taking advantage of the momentary steadiness, and angrily consumed the two pilots, before taking control of the vehicle.

Thanks to the just-absorbed biomass, the battered wound finally healed, giving Alex a bit of relief: pleased to having concluded the mission, he turned the helicopter and headed back to Manhattan.