Chapter 5: Metamorphosis

Madison Square Garden

8:53 PM

Madison Square Garden erupted with cheers as Mike Creel emerged from behind the curtain, Paisley skipping along at his side. He was dressed in his signature black and purple gear, the UCWF World Heavyweight Championship belt glinting at his waist.

"The following contest is a gauntlet match, scheduled for one fall!" boomed the ring announcer. "Introducing first, from Brooklyn, New York, weighing in at 265 pounds...he is the reigning, defending, undisputed UCWF World Heavyweight Champion...'Titanium' Mike Creel!"

Mike soaked in the crowd's energy as he slid under the bottom rope and let out a warrior-like roar. He ascended the turnbuckle and held the title high to another ovation.

The first opponent was announced as Austin Waller, a cocky up-and-comer looking to make a name for himself against the champ. He trash talked Mike, who simply smirked and cracked his knuckles. The bell rang and they locked up. Back and forth they battled, exchanging strikes and throws. Mike dominated with his raw power, but the young buck kept fighting back. A timely distraction from Paisley allowed Mike to catch him with a thunderous powerbomb for the win.

One down, two to go. A luchador named Aztec Moon was next, using speed and high flying moves to wear Mike down. Mike endured several near falls, until nearly decapitating him with a hard clothesline to put him down for the count.

The final opponent was a vicious masked brawler named Mangler Jr who had battered his way through the ranks. He targeted Mike's midsection with clubbing blows, trying to sap the champion's strength. They brawled around ringside, Mike sending him hard into the barricade. Rolling him back into the ring, Mike lifted him for a vertical suplex powerslam. But as he held the massive wrestler aloft, Mike suddenly heard a faint voice call his name. He hesitated, momentarily glancing around in confusion.

The distraction cost him as Mangler Jr squirmed free behind him. He capitalized with a chop block to Mike's knee, sending him down hard. The crowd booed as the big man dropped elbow after elbow across Mike's chest.

"Get up champ!" Paisley shouted urgently.

As Mangler Jr stopped to wrestle Mike into a chin lock, he leaned his head against Mike's in order to discreetly communicate with him.

"What was that? Did you forget the spot?" he whispered.

While selling the effect of being deprived of air, Mike shook his head. His eyes searched the raucous crowd…and landed on Amara seated in the front row, gazing intently at him. Their eyes locked for a suspended moment. Mike willed himself to his feet and elbowed Mangler Jr in the gut. Now back on track, he blocked a punch and answered with a headbutt that staggered his foe. Grabbing him around the waist, Mike gutwrench suplexed him hard.

With Mangler Jr down, Mike pulled him into a Kata ha jime style choke. Before long, Mangler Jr went limp, and Mike was declared the winner. The gauntlet was over, and although his muscles screamed in agony, he had retained his title and put on a dominant performance for the crowd.

He glanced back to where he had seen the mysterious blonde woman, but she was gone. Paisley hugged Mike excitedly, though her smile faded when she saw his distant expression.

"Another win under your belt! Let's celebrate!" She said, linking her arm in his. As they headed backstage, Mike couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

Mike sat in his locker room, still catching his breath after the grueling gauntlet match. He slowly unraveled the white tape from his wrists and hands, tossing the used strips in the trash can near his bag. As he unzipped the bag and began placing his ring gear inside, he heard the door open behind him.

"Excellent performance out there," a melodic female voice said.

Mike turned to see a striking blonde woman enter the locker room. She wore an unusual green and black bodysuit adorned with strange sigils. The voice was very distinct, one that he couldn't possibly forget, not after hearing it call his name so frequently. His muscles tensed, unsure whether to be wary or confused.

"You're...the voice I've been hearing," he said slowly.

The woman nodded, seeming amused by his reaction. "I am. My name is Amara. I have been...keeping an eye on you from afar. You interest me."

She began to slowly circle him, looking him up and down appraisingly. Mike stood rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes away from this bizarre woman.

"You possess such raw power and talent, yet waste it on simulated combat for entertainment," Amara continued, an edge creeping into her melodic voice. "As the son of Titania and Absorbing Man, you were meant for so much more."

Mike frowned, her words sparking defensiveness and unease. "It's not wasted, I love what I do. Now look, I don't know what kind of freaky…voodoo shit you've been doing, but I ain't dealing with it anymore. So stay the hell away from me."

He attempted to move past Amara to exit the locker room, but she suddenly reached out and pressed a hand to his bare chest. Mike froze as her touch sent a strange tingle through his body. Her hand seemed to radiate an unnatural warmth.

"In time, you will learn to embrace your true potential," Amara said cryptically, her green eyes boring into Mike's. "We will meet again."

Before Mike could respond, she removed her hand and brushed past him out the door, disappearing as mysteriously as she had arrived. Shaken, Mike grabbed his bag and left the arena, unable to dispel the lingering unease from Amara's visit and unsettling words.

Mike slid into the driver's seat of his black truck, tossing his gym bag into the backseat. Paisley hopped into the passenger side, pulling her long pink hair up into a messy bun.

"Ugh, I'm starving after that marathon match of yours," she said, buckling her seatbelt. "Let's grab some food."

Mike nodded absently as he pulled out of the parking garage, only half-listening. His mind kept drifting back to the strange encounter with Amara after the show.

Paisley studied his pensive face with concern. "That last match got pretty intense. Looked like you zoned out for a minute there—everything okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine," Mike said hastily. "Just exhausted after wrestling three guys back to back, you know?"

Paisley didn't seem fully convinced, but didn't push the issue further. "Well you pulled it off, as always. The crowd really ate it up."

Mike smiled slightly at her praise, flexing his fingers around the steering wheel. "I honestly don't know where that last burst of energy came from. I felt completely drained, but then it was like...this jolt went through me."

"Adrenaline is a crazy thing," Paisley mused. She began fiddling with the radio, flipping through stations.

Mike's smile faded as his thoughts drifted back to the locker room encounter with Amara. Her strange words about wasted potential echoed in his mind. He felt on edge, hyper-aware of the smooth leather steering wheel under his palms.

As he changed lanes, Mike suddenly noticed the texture of the wheel seemed to shift. Glancing down, he did a shocked double take—his hands were slowly melding into the material, absorbing it. The leather steered wheel was warping, reshaping around his grip.

"What the hell?" Mike exclaimed. He reflexively yanked his hands away, losing control of the wheel. The car swerved violently across two lanes into oncoming traffic.

"Mike, look out!" Paisley screamed.

Horns blared and tires squealed as Mike desperately cranked the wheel. But it was too late. The car slammed head-on into a small sedan in a sickening crunch of metal and shattering glass. The airbags exploded on impact, cushioning them as the car spun to a stop.

For a moment, neither Mike nor Paisley could speak, stunned into silence. Finally Mike turned to check on Paisley with urgent concern.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded shakily. "Y-yeah I think so. What happened?"

Mike looked down at his hands, flexing the fingers that had somehow merged into the wheel moments before. Guilt suddenly flooded through Mike as he hurried to get out and check on the other driver.

The small sedan they had hit was mangled badly, flipped onto its side. Mike rushed over to the crumpled driver's side door. Gripping the handle, he pulled hard but it was jammed.

"Just hang on, I'll get you out!" he called to the driver inside. Bracing his shoulder against the door, Mike pulled with all his strength. As his hands made contact, the metal surface rippled, almost liquefying around his fingers. Mike's eyes widened in shock as the gray metal crept up his hands and arms like a living thing.

With a grunt of exertion, he tore the door completely off, the metal melding seamlessly into his skin. Mike stared down at his arms now encased entirely in the door material. No time to worry about that now—he had to help the injured driver.

Reaching inside, Mike carefully extracted the driver from the wreckage. It was an elderly man, bleeding from his head and terrifyingly still. Mike laid him on the ground, pressing his fingers to the man's neck only to find no pulse.

"No no no, hey wake up!" Mike pleaded in dismay. He looked desperately to Paisley, who had come up cautiously behind him.

"He's not breathing, you gotta do CPR!" Mike urged.

Paisley's eyes were wide as she took in Mike's transformed arms, but she hurried over without hesitation. Tilting the man's chin up, she began chest compressions, showing no fear of Mike's strange new appearance.

Mike stared down helplessly, willing the man to start breathing again. Among the small crowd gathering around the scene, Mike suddenly spotted a familiar blonde woman—Amara. Their eyes met briefly before she turned and disappeared into the milling onlookers.

Mike paced anxiously as sirens wailed, growing closer by the second. This was a nightmare—the police would never believe he didn't mean to hurt that man. Not when he looked like this, encased in strange metal.

Two ambulances and a squad of police cars screeched onto the scene. Paramedics immediately rushed to help the injured driver while cops flooded the area.

"Hands up, now!" An officer yelled, leveling his gun at Mike. More cops followed suit, weapons drawn.

"Whoa wait, this is just a big misunderstanding!" Mike said desperately, raising his metallic hands.

Paisley stepped forward, hands also up. "Officers please, we didn't mean to hit that man! It was an accident-"

"Quiet, both of you!" The lead officer ordered. "Freaks like you just can't help causing chaos."

Mike bristled, panic rising in his chest. "I'm not a freak! I don't even know how this happened to me."

The officer glared coldly. "Sure you don't. On the ground, hands behind your head!"

The dozen officers edged closer, cutting off any escape. Mike's breath came faster, heart pounding. He couldn't let them lock him up, not like this.

"Mike..." Paisley said nervously, sensing his rising panic.

Before anyone could react, Mike turned and ran,, bullets ringing out immediately. Most pinged harmlessly off his metallic form, though a couple found flesh, stinging but not slowing him down.

Vaulting a fence, Mike ran and ran through back alleys until finally collapsing behind a dumpster several blocks away. He panted harshly, adrenaline still flooding his system. Pressing a hand to his side, it came away bloody, but the wounds were already closing up before his eyes.

The Bronx - 9:30 PM

Carl Creel hummed an upbeat tune to himself as he stood over the stove, stirring a pot of his famous beef stew. In the living room, Titania lounged on the couch eagerly watching the latest Simon Williams action flick.

A few hard knocks suddenly came at the front door. Before Carl or Titania could react, the door was smashed off its hinges, skidding across the floor. Mike came barreling through the doorway, chest heaving and eyes wild.

"Mike! What on earth?" Titania exclaimed, bolting up from the couch.

Carl set down his spoon, frowning as Mike stumbled into the apartment. His son's forearms appeared to be covered in gleaming metal.

"Sorry about your door, I didn't know my own strength," Mike panted. He began pacing back and forth frantically. "Something really messed up happened to me."

He urgently recounted the car crash, his hands morphing into the steering wheel, the police shooting at him. All the while, Carl listened with growing fascination while Titania's concern visibly deepened.

"Well how about that, you're a late bloomer but you've got my old absorbing powers after all," Carl chuckled. He clapped Mike on the shoulder. "Makes you even more of a chip off the old block."

Titania swatted Carl's arm. "Carl! Can't you see Mike is terrified?" She pulled Mike into a soothing hug. "It's going to be okay. We'll figure this out."

Mike practically collapsed into her embrace, his entire body shaking from adrenaline and fear. "Can I stay here with you guys for a while? Just until I get a handle on...whatever this is."

"Of course sweetie, you don't even have to ask," Titania murmured, running a hand through Mike's hair.

Carl nodded. "You're family, always welcome here. Although, I should probably fix this door..."

He trailed off, sizing up the broken chunk of wall around the empty frame. With a smirk, Carl stretched out a hand and absorbed the texture of the drywall. His arm morphed to match, allowing him to easily mold the material back into place, sealing up the wall good as new.

"There, easy fix. Now how about some stew?"

Mike sat at the dinner table across from his parents, mechanically spooning beef stew into his mouth. His leg bounced with nervous energy as he kept glancing around like a cornered animal.

Carl tore off a hunk of bread and dipped it into his stew. "So tell me, how'd you get all the way here from Manhattan so fast anyway? Must've been movin' quick."

Mike blinked, trying to think back through his panicked flight. "I...I'm not really sure. I just started running without looking back. Everything was a blur."

Carl nodded thoughtfully, chewing his bread. "I'll bet when you absorbed that car metal, you didn't just get its shape. You absorbed its purpose too - speed and momentum. A car's meant for goin' fast."

Mike's eyes widened in realization. "So you're saying I have super speed now too?"

"Only when you've absorbed that car, or any car for that matter. Once you turn back to normal, all that goes with it," Carl said.

"Right well…how do I turn back to normal?" Mike asked.

Carl gave a slight chuckle. "Don't worry, I'll teach you that and everything else about how to control your new gifts. This is my specialty."

Mike smiled in gratitude. "Thanks Dad, that means a lot. I just wish I'd gotten them under better circumstances." His face fell again. "The cops will be looking for me, I probably shouldn't stay after all and cause you guys trouble."

Titania reached over and grasped Mike's hand. "Nonsense, you're our son. Let us handle the police if they come asking questions. We're not afraid of a few flatfoot bullies."

Carl snorted in agreement through a mouthful of stew. After swallowing he added, "We can take care of ourselves. We know how to navigate these types of situations.

Mike felt a swell of emotion at his parents' unconditional support. For the first time since the chaos began, he felt a spark of hope.

"Thanks, I guess I made the right call coming here, "he said sincerely. For now at least, he could breathe a little easier.

That was, until an authoritative knock came at the front door. Mike immediately tensed back up, knowing exactly what was about to happen next.

Titania pressed a finger to her lips and went to peer through the peephole. She waved urgently for Mike to hide himself. He quickly got up, making sure to place his bowl in the sink and out of possible view, before darting into a nearby coat closet.

"NYPD, open up!" A gruff voice called.

Titania smoothed her hair and opened the door with an innocent smile as Carl stood behind her. Two stern officers stood on the other side of the door.

"Evening officers, what can we do for you?" she asked politely.

The cop flashed his badge. "You two are Carl and Mary Creel, correct?"

Carl gave a simple nod. "That's us, what's it to you?"

"We're looking for your son, Michael, in connection to a hit and run earlier. He was last seen fleeing police custody. Have you seen him tonight?"

Carl folded his arms, face impassive. "Can't say we have."

The officer narrowed his eyes skeptically. "So if we took a look around your apartment, we wouldn't find him hiding here?"

Titania gave an incredulous laugh. "Well one, you'd need a warrant which I assume you don't have, and two, of course not. That would be idiotic. If our son was on the run, the first place you boys would look is here. I'm sure you know our past, and how hard we've worked to move on. We wouldn't risk that, and our son wouldn't try to get us to either."

Carl nodded agreement. "We'll let you know if Mikey shows up."

The cops exchanged a look, then tipped their hats gruffly. "See that you do. Call the precinct if he comes around."

They left and Titania quickly shut the door, letting out a relieved breath. Mike emerged cautiously from the closet.

"That was close. You guys were convincing even to me," he said appreciatively.

"Wasn't so hard convincin' them that you had the brains not to come runnin' home after doing something stupid," Carl chuckled.

Titania shot Carl a wry look. "Yes well, we're not out of the woods yet. Something tells me they'll be keeping an eye on us for a while..."

That night, Mike lay restlessly on the living room couch, drifting in and out of fitful sleep. His phone buzzed with an incoming call from Paisley, but after staring at her name on the cracked screen, he silenced it. He wasn't ready to face her questions yet.

Tossing and turning, sections of the couch and blankets adhered to his skin, his absorbing powers activating subconsciously.

Some time later, Mike was vaguely aware of a figure moving silently into the living room. Assuming it was simply his mother, he didn't bother to move.

Still half-asleep, he felt the couch dip near his legs. The shape leaned over him, long hair tickling his face. Soft lips pressed unexpectedly to his own. Mike's eyes flew open to see Amara mere inches away. Her hand caressed his cheek gently as she kissed him, a subtle green glow emanating from her skin.

Mike bolted upright, staring wildly around the empty room. Early morning sunlight streamed through the windows. Had it been real or just a dream? Mike slowly brought his fingers to his tingling lips. It felt so real…

Shaking his head, he looked down at himself to see sections of his arms and torso now a mixture of couch leather and wool. Heart still pounding, Mike knew one thing for certain–that Amara woman had awakened whatever powers lay dormant, and if he was a betting man, he knew there was likely more she had in store for him.