Izzy continued plodding through the crowds, aimlessly searching for the next cosplayer to change.
I don’t see why you’re taking so long, Coyote’s voice rang through his mind, There’s got to be dozens of costumed people to choose from right in front of you, and anywhere you turn. His tone of “voice” shifted slightly. Or perhaps that’s the problem, is it? Choice paralysis? Hm? Or maybe you’re just worried how long it’ll take to change everyone here by yourself?”
“Why are you doing this?” Izzy muttered to himself.
Why? Do I really need a reason? Actually, no, I can give you two: Because it’s fun, and because I can.
“That’s it?”
What can I say? In the words of your little internet jokes; ‘I am often seized, by the fatal American need, to have a pretty good time.’
“You’re hilarious,” Izzy deadpanned.
What, just because I’m older than time itself,does my every action have to be profound? Would you have been happier if I said I was enacting karma on these cosplayers, telling them to be careful what they wish for, because they just might get it? Because, that is pretty fun too, but it’s not the kind of fun I’m in the mood for.
But enough about me! Let’s talk about you. Specifically, about your body, and how it ought to be picking out the next victim right about now. And how if it doesn’t do so soon, you might not have as much control of the situation as you might like.
Izzy sighed and looked around. He’d wandered into the north wing, where several small auditoriums had been set up in the side rooms to host various video game tournaments. Standing just outside the doors to an FPS tournament were four chatting cosplayers, one guy was dressed as a one-eyed, humanoid robot with some kind of arm cannon, a woman was wearing a bulbous blue hat with long, cloth “tentacles,” looking something like a big jellyfish. A second woman had dark blue armor around her chest, and wore a mask over the lower half of her face that looked like some kind of snout, while on her head was a green mane of a wig, with thick clumps of what Izzy guessed was supposed to be hair or fur, that trailed all the way down her back, with her arms and legs covered in a material of the same color. The last guy in the group had a comparatively simpler uniform, wearing a blue shirt and black pants you’d typically see on old Star Hike episodes plus a rubber headpiece with a large, bald forehead and pointy ears, probably meant to look like some alien from the same show.
Izzy sighed and pointed in their direction. “Those ones.”
All four of them seemed to shudder as the magic went to work.
“You feel that too?” The guy in the robot costume said, his posture straightening as the painted cardboard and plastic he wore began to take a shiny, metal look.
“That tingly feeling? Yeah,” the girl nodded, the cloth of her hat looking smoother and clearer by the second. “Hey, your costumes look different.”
“So do yours,” the armored woman said, the green “hair” twitching and flickering like lightning.
“This is most unusual,” said the last one, the rubber parts of his mask seeming to seal onto his face. He shivered, growing slightly taller and thinner, his uniform shifting to match his body while not changing its overall design that much.
“Wait, I’m starting to feel really weird,” groaned the woman with the tentacle hat. She wrapped her arms around herself, and several of her tentacles followed suit, which she only seemed to realize after a short delay, letting out a gasp as her mouth converted into some kind of beak, while her eyes turned solid yellow. “No, no, no! This can’t be real!” Her “hat,” which now made up much of her head, pulsed a soft light blue color with every syllable Izzy heard, as he suddenly realized her beak wasn’t moving with the words. She was either “speaking” telepathically, or psychically vibrating the air around her to form words instead. And given that, while her arms and legs were simplifying into more clear, shimmering tentacles, her body was starting to float just off the ground like a balloon, the latter didn’t seem unreasonable.
“Oh shit!” The one with the electric mane yelped. “If you guys are…,” the words wouldn’t come out, but Izzey guessed it was ‘becoming your costumes’ before the woman continued, “then I’m…” He shuddered as the blue armor seemed to fuse to her body, the blue mask the bottom half of her face spreading upward, giving her a blue, beastly head, reminiscent of a bear, while her arms and legs suddenly started to turn into the same sort of green lightning that her hair had.
A few passers-by did a double-take as her body suddenly became a lot fuzzier in Izzy’s vision. He hoped against hope that they’d notice the change, freak out, and warn others, but after their second look, they simply shrugged and moved on.
An energy being on a light and audio spectrum imperceptible to humans, Coyote mused. What a neat idea. And so much less trouble to keep hidden.
“Clara,” the guy in the robot suit said, his voice carrying tinny quality, “I can still see you, don’t worry! We’ll figure-” He reached out, stiffly, rigidly to hug her, only for him to pass straight through her. “-Something out…” He twitched slightly, as any gaps in his metal “skin” began to no longer show his old human body, but metal joints, gears, or wires. The single “eye” on what had once been his mask glowed bright blue, and a soft whirring sound came from his arm canon, while let off soft green pulses inside it’s barrel every few seconds.
“It would appear,” said the big-headed former cosplayer, “that we have an unprecedented situation to deal with.”
“DUUDE!” Shouted a passing teen, wearing green, sci-fi looking armor, “Those are some awesome animatronics! I bet you’re using a drone to make that Psyquid float, right?”
The most human-looking of the cosplayers tried to explain what really was happening, but Coyote’s power forced him to say nothing but “You got it! Thanks for the compliment!”
The cosplayer-turned-robot, despite his face not being built for expression, looked betrayed, and tried to speak up. “Ron, what are you-” he too, found his own words not coming out as he meant them “leaving out my credit for? Just because I’m not at the con in person doesn’t mean you can claim you built our models.”
“Oh, cool, you’ve got some remote control stuff?” The teen said. “That’s amazing!” His phone buzzed. “Oh, shoot, my match in the tourney’s coming up! See you around!”
Izzy shook his head, and turned away. Were people THAT willing to come up with rational explanations for everything?