Friday 12:30 a.m. November 4th

Paul had to admit the masked idiot was entertaining. On his nightly strolls, Paul noticed a purple vigilante hopping around from roof to roof, and alternately shivering in his thrift store hoodie, all the while talking to his pet miniature schnauzer. After his date with Cade, the pair had been out every night, no doubt looking for Paul. He took a perverse pleasure in stalking his pursuers; their futile attempts were endearing. Paul chuckled to himself and winced.

When are these damn ribs going to heal?

Soon, he was going to need more than the quilt his mother had sewn for him. Hovering fifty feet in the air, Paul felt the full strength of the Idaho wind. Even with layers of fatty insulation and the protection the Relaxzen Rocker offered, the cold was starting to get to him, but staying home with his mother wasn't an option. Paul needed release. Looking down on the sleepy, little town, Paul felt like a god. A Spider God, and Lancet Falls was his web. He'd spun each thread with tender loving care. Paul supposed he should have thanked Cade, without him, he never would have discovered the secret to his unique gift.

◈

After Paul got his ass kicked six ways to Sunday, he woke up in a hospital bed with his mother crying over him, and a tingling in sensation in his legs that felt like they'd fallen asleep.

"Oh Paulie, there was nothing they could do." She'd sobbed.

Paul tried to ask what she meant, but was unable to open his mouth. A bandage had been wrapped around his chin. He remembered an impact and a pop. Cade.

"Don't try to talk sweetie, the doctor will be in in a minute."

A young pup of a doctor informed Paul that he'd dislocated his jaw, suffered a concussion, broken five ribs, and sustained permanent damage to his spinal cord. The bastard, probably fresh out of med school, told him he was paralyzed from the waist down like he was reading off a grocery list. After, the doctor added that there was a possibility that he could regain function, but it was not likely. He then smiled like he was doing Paul a favor. Paul wouldn't mind if the condescending twat got hit by a bus, anything to wipe that smug smile off his face. As the doctor left the room his mom said, "Don't worry sweetie, mommy's gonna take care of you until you're all better."

After a week, Paul was already sick of being surrounded by incompetent automatons and the incessant tingling in his legs. Most of all, he was sick of being looked at with equal measures of pity and disgust, like it was somehow his fault. Against heavy doctor advisement, Paul ruled himself healthy enough to return home on an outpatient basis under the care of his mother. Paul was sent packing with non-steroidal anti-inflammatories and a wheelchair.

Joyce had sold her car to get a handicap accessible van. It took three healthy orderlies to maneuver Paul into it. His mother drove him home while Paul's new physical therapist rode shotgun. After a long and arduous process, they finally got Paul situated in his living room, back in the welcoming embrace of the Relaxzen Rocker. Paul barely listened as the physical therapist outlined his care plan. He didn't need to know the details about how he now needed a nurse to wipe his ass and give him sponge baths.

"Oh Paulie," Joyce clucked after the physical therapist left, "this place is a pigsty. Mommy's got a lot of work to do."

From that moment onward, Paul became the sole focus of Joyce Curt's existence. She doted on Paul hand and foot, making him all of his favorite meals, renting his favorite movies, and tucking him into bed at night telling him how handsome he was. As much he told himself he hated it, on some level, Paul was thankful for her mindless devotion.

Despite being paralyzed, Paul's determination to get his revenge had not dulled in the slightest, if anything, he was more determined than ever. He still had his gift. He quested out with his tendrils to the edge of his property and moved small objects when nobody was looking to remind himself of his tremendous power. Paul spent every free moment trying to figure out what went wrong that night at O'Connell's

What was the connection between what had happened at the coffee shop and his breakthrough in the living room? The question plagued him day in and day out until one night, a dream made it clear what he had to do.

In this dream, he was a spider and he'd spread his web out in an abandoned version of Impresso Espresso. A fly with the head of Joseph Banford buzzed in and got itself entangled in Paul's web. Spider Paul had feasted on the insides of Fly Joseph. He woke with a revelation and the taste of Joseph's tasty insides still on his tongue.

He didn't know how he didn't see it before. Along with telekinesis, his power gave him intimate knowledge of his surroundings. The connection between his living room and the coffee shop was familiarity. Both places his gift worked, Paul knew the setting well. Paul spent more time in his living room than anywhere in his life, and he had spent hours waiting and planning in the coffee shop before their meeting. Paul needed to lie in wait and get familiar with his surroundings for his gift to work, like a spider's web. The violet strands were his spun silk designed to ensnare his prey.

The beginnings of a plan started to formulate in the edges of Paul's mind, but first he needed to test one thing.

Joyce made it a habit to to go to bed after Paul, so she knew he was okay and could give him his nightly kiss. One night, Paul insisted on watching Seinfeld reruns late into the night. Joyce hated the pointlessness of it, but didn't want to disappoint her Paulie. While Paul marveled at the brilliance and audacity of a show about nothing, Joyce quietly grew more and more impatient. Around 2 a.m., she caved and went to bed, but made Paul promise that he would sleep in The Rocker and not try to get into bed by himself. He promised her and gave her a kiss goodnight.

Giddy with excitement, Paul summoned the tendrils when he heard Joyce's door close. He sent them in all directions, basking in his omniscience. He knew everything that was going on around him. Even paralyzed, Paul knew he was better than any living human.

The tendrils monitored his mother until Paul was sure she had gone to bed. Paul wrapped one of the violet strands over his beloved Relaxzen Rocker and lifted. The mechanism creaked under his weight, but it still held steady. Paul and the rocker floated inches off the ground. Paul Neiman could fly without breaking a sweat. Who needs legs? He'd thought.

From that moment onward, Paul used his days for sleeping and nights for setting up his web from the comfort of the Relaxzen Rocker. Tackling each area from an aerial view proved to be the best option. Paul was able to familiarize himself with large swathes of land in a matter of thirty minutes or so. Working until dawn for a week straight, Paul was able to cover the entirety of Lancet Falls.

His mother attributed his fatigue during the day as his body's way of healing, and that suited Paul just fine. Paul decided it was better that she didn't know the truth, and it would be more merciful for her to be kept in the dark. Joyce Curts had always been a simple, God-fearing woman. Paul's transcendence would only frighten her.

Once Paul laid his web, he set to work coming up with the perfect date with destiny for Cade. When he decided on killing him with barbed wire, Paul applauded himself for his ingenuity. Paul never prided himself on having a romantic nature, but the symbolism of the barbed wire was damn near poetic. What better way to announce his new form than showing everyone a fly caught in his physical and metaphorical web?

Paul looted the barbed wire from a field that neighbored his house and stored it on the roof of O'Connell's pub. Paul wanted their second date to be magical, and it exceeded his wildest dreams.

In true bar rat fashion, Cade waited until last call before he decided to stumble on home. Paul plucked him into the air and clamped the man's jaw shut so tight flecks of chipped teeth fell from his mouth. Cade was forced to watch, where no one could hear his muffled sobs, as the few remaining trickles of humanity left the bar, and the owner, Pat O'Connell, closed shop for the night. Paul wanted to spend quality time with Cade as he realized how well and truly fucked he was.

Paul savored the look of unadulterated terror in Cade's eyes when he retrieved his tool. Nothing Paul had ever experienced compared to the exaltation he felt piercing the flesh of his mortal enemy. Paul held Cade's mouth shut the best he could as he meticulously weaved barbed wire in and out of the skin of a budding masterpiece. If there was anything Paul regretted about his magical evening, Cade Jahns died far too fast and far too easily. Paul tried to stem the flow of the bleeding at first, but was unable to contain the artistic fervor that had come upon him.

Paul admired his handiwork and decided that it would be a shame if others could not share in his accomplishment. He hung Cade Jahns from a lamppost on Lancet Street. Looking his achievement up and down, Paul knew that it wasn't complete. What great artist didn't sign their work? The need for melodrama overtook him. Cade Jahns, his magnum opus, would be a message for the others. Paul wanted them to know he was coming, and he wanted that thought to keep them up at night.

In his research, Paul discovered that the human body contained anywhere from six to eight pints of blood. Plenty to work with. He milked the body, careful not to spill a single, precious drop. Paul agonized over his message, trying to get the right balance between chilling and sophisticated. Once he saw it on the pavement, he was filled with self-doubt.

Is the type of message to drive them stark-raving mad with fear? No. Three more yummy flies? So stupid.

Paul floated home head hung low. He could and would be better next time. No one was going to laugh at Paul Neiman anymore. Be that as it may, he would've really liked a goodnight kiss.

◈

The next few nights, Paul floated around town, following the masked idiot and waiting on inspiration for his next sensational kill. He considered having some fun with him, plucking his wings and watching him squirm, but it would be a gross misuse of his gift. Paul was sure it had been bestowed upon him to aid in his holy crusade. If he took advantage, he feared it would be taken away. Paul shuddered at the thought of being returned to his lesser form.

Violet light dominated the night sky, blinding Paul, as if in answer to his impure thoughts. Paul tried to prostrate himself before its dominating power, but his ample belly wouldn't allow such a movement.

It's the thought that counts.

Paul quivered in fear, awaiting The Radiance's judgment, but a response was not forthcoming. In fact, the violet light didn't bother with him at all. The Radiance ignored Paul altogether. It had returned to grant its gifts to another far less worthy individual. Paul didn't know whether to be outraged at the sleight or relieved he'd been spared its wrath. He'd decide later. For the time being, Paul would watch over the proceedings, taking his rightful place as a chosen one. 

He propelled himself towards the source of the violet light. Wind whipped at Paul's faces forcing rivulets of snot to dribble down his face that soon began to frost over. Underneath his quilt, Paul's clothes clung to his skin, through the night's chill, he'd still managed to work up a sweat.

When Paul arrived, he noticed the masked fool had beat him to the punch and was observing The Radiance through a pair of binoculars. The nexus of activity appeared to be located in the middle of the old drive-in. Down the road a ways, Paul noticed a news van that had somehow managed to flip on a clear stretch of road. Paul contemplated helping the pathetic wretch, but decided against it. Paul's place wasn't to help the unfortunate; it was to watch in the shadows.

Something appeared to be happening in the epicenter of The Radiance. The scene gave Paul the impression of a bizarre hi-tech ritual. The light was ushering in otherworldly beings into his plane of existence. Paul gazed upon them in awe. Upon sight, he knew he was witnessing the entrance of supreme beings.

A stab of annoyance interrupted Paul's rapture. 

The purple boy is an intruder on the sanctity of this moment.

Paul chastised himself for his rash thoughts at once. The Radiance would not have allowed his attendance if he was not meant to be there, and Paul knew this to be true. Paul felt a rare moment of kinship with the vigilante. The two of them had been chosen to witness a miracle.

Down below, The Beings disembarked from their summoning circle in order to make way for the arrival of more of their kind. The briefest flicker of movement broke the lines of the circle, and an overwhelming light blinded him to the point where even his tendrils couldn't feel what was going on. When his vision cleared, the circle was gone. All that remained were The Beings. Without the brilliance of the violet light, Paul couldn't help but notice how frail they looked. How normal.

Paul suspected they were messengers sent to laud him on his offering to The Radiance. Much to his dismay, they strode towards the boy and his dog without so much as a glance in Paul's direction. Their strides were steady and unwavering. Paul decided that whatever was of such great interest to them must also concern him, so he started to tail them from afar. Lurking in the shadows was the way of the spider. 

The Beings moved at a quick pace, right past the water tower and into Lancet Falls, Paul's domain. Paul issued a sigh of relief even though he knew deep down The Beings couldn't possibly be interested in such an insignificant gnat.

The pair traveled in an efficient manner that bespoke an intimate knowledge of Lancet Falls. The boy and his dog tailed the two suited figures leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Paul had seen the boy do it countless times the past few nights, but this time was different. He had to admit a certain begrudging respect for the oaf. Not only had the boy withstood the full force of the The Radiance, but he now moved with a sure-footed grace that Paul would not have believed the boy capable of, the boy's every footfall rife with purpose.

The Beings path led them to an abandoned clothing store of some sort. They disappeared into an alley bordering the store. Their quick reversal of direction seemed to startle the wannabe hero. The boy stared at the mouth of the alley with pinpoint focus and jumped. The power of the jump propelled him to the entrance. At no point, did this action look out of the ordinary, a man jumping off of a two story building without a hair out of place. Waves of resentment roiled over Paul. The vigilante possessed a gift as well.

The gift is meant for me and me alone, how dare some young upstart assume he's on my level?

He would have to teach the boy a lesson, but he dared not hurt him, just show him who the superior being truly was.

The darkness of the alley swallowed the pair. Paul probed the building with his tendrils monitoring the outside of the building. Content that all four players were inside the building, Paul snuggled underneath his quilt and waited for something of note to happen. A large part of him hoped The Beings would remove the vigilante from the equation. Paul had better things to occupy his time without having to worry about some kid blundering his way into Paul's business.

Paul lost himself in daydreams of revenge. He wished he had set the bar lower for his first murder. He'd made it that much harder to outdo himself.

The full moon's pale glow blanketed the town of Lancet Falls with its pseudo-light. Paul glanced upward at the luminous orb. The impression of a face seemed to smile down on Paul. The moon's smile dominated half its surface area. The smile would have been perfect if not for a crater that resembled a chipped front tooth. Paul couldn't shake the feeling it was mocking him. He'd seen that taunting grin before. Diego Sandoval. Paul knew how he was going to outdo himself.

Maybe stargazing isn't a waste of time at all.

Movement at the perimeter of the warehouse startled Paul out of his reverie. A lone figure exited the clothing store with its head held low. The boy. He shuffled out of the alley with his dog plodding alongside him. 

Is it possible they killed the Beings?

No, if they had the boy would have a spring in his step. 

He would have finally validated his career as a self-styled hero.

But what if he did kill them and now feels remorse at the horror of what he has done?

Not likely.

Is it possible The Beings left the building without my knowledge?

Impossible.

Paul's curiosity got the better of him. He decided to wait and throw in his lot with the Beings. Paul smelled an impending conflict brewing, and he intended throw his lot on the right side. He wouldn't do something so overt as to fight, but he wanted the Beings to know what side he resided on. The boy's lesson would have to be postponed for another night. 

The Beings left the building when the boy cleared the premises. Paul contemplated whisking them into the air, but resolved against such an audacious display of his superiority. The Relaxzen Rocker descended to to greet them on their level.

To their credit, The Beings were far less surprised than Paul expected. If anything, they looked pleased at his approach until they got a good look at him. Paul hovered closer until the moonlight shone on the devastation that was his face. Looks of disgust marred their disappointingly human faces, and the burns on his face started to itch. Paul fought the urge to scratch them.

The two suited figures didn't look like messengers from another plane. They were the epitome of the leering faces that had plagued Paul his whole life, not one of them willing to look past to the man within. 

I'll give them something to leer at.

Strands probed forward looking to extinguish the looks off their faces once and for all. When they reached the Beings, they were met with solid resistance. Paul's tendrils were unable to penetrate their exteriors, so he tried a different tack. Paul encircled the Beings in his tendrils with the intent of lifting them high into the air and listening to a comforting splat below, but his appendages slid off the forms as if they were coated in grease.

These guys definitely aren't human.

"Are you sure we can't kill this one?" said the Being on the left, its voice a deep baritone, "From the looks of it, we'd be doing it a favor."

"And have the Miasma kill us both? Yeah, no thank you," whined the Being on the right, its voice higher, more reedy than its counterpart.

The one on the left looked at Paul with contempt with a hand on its hip like he was packing heat. The one on the right stared intently at Paul with a quizzical expression that made Paul shiver.

It's like the fucker is dissecting me with its eyes.

Besides their voices and facial expressions, Paul wouldn't have been able to tell the two apart. They were the same height, build, and even had the same hair color and eyes. The suited figures were strategically nondescript. Paul knew that he wouldn't be able to pick them out in a crowd, probably not even in a police line up. That scared the hell out of him.

"Listen Fellas, I've been having a blast talking about killing me and all, but I just remembered I got a turkey in the oven." Paul said moving away from them in increments, hoping the wouldn't notice the growing distance between them.

"Vyth, you gonna let him get away or what?" asked the baritone.

"I'm working on it!" the whiner called Vyth yelped back.

"Better work faster. The big guy is about to feck himself, and I'm not cleaning that up."

"Alright Blujh, if you think it's so easy why don't you carry the Jeach around? I didn't think so."

Paul started gaining elevation as the two argued. He avoid any sudden movements, and the last thing he wanted to do was turn tail and run. A ten year old Paul had learned that lesson with Old Man Finkle's bulldog, turning your back on a predator implied weakness.

As the Relaxzen Rocker raised past the lip marking the roof of the clothing store, the one called Vyth pulled something out of the confines of his jacket. The object glinted in the moonlight, and Paul realized he'd pulled out a cylinder that resembled a metal Thermos and began twisting off the cap. Something began to ooze out at the hiss of the seal being released. The ooze coalesced into one mass and removed itself from the cylinder with a sickening plop.

Instead of flopping onto the ground, the Jeach held itself suspended in the air. It shuddered down the length of its body and had moved a couple of inches towards Paul. The Jeach was propelling itself through the air in a series of undulating motions. Although it had been deployed to hunt Paul, it moved at a pace of leisure that bespoke Paul's capture to be a foregone conclusion. 

As it got closer, individual features grew more apparent. The Jeach's body appeared to be translucent all the way through, but its insides were streaked with neon violet phosphorescence. Violet streamers of various sizes hung from the main mass of its body. Paul didn't think a watermelon sized lump of viscous jelly-like substance could be so elegant. Its movement was mesmerizing as it drifted towards Paul in its horrifying beauty.

The Jeach closed half the distance between them before Paul broke himself free from his trance. Paul Neiman imagined the Jeach's streamers wrapping around his face as it slid its body into his throat, and he turned tail and ran.

Finkle's bulldog be damned.  

SaintCole bringing you a slice of Paul right to your phone screens,

In this chapter's original state, it was by far the chapter I was least satisfied with. I spent hours and hours brainstorming how it could be better and this is what I came up with. Hope you all enjoy!

Despite the tremendous magnitudes of terrible that Paul is, please vote! Becoming Paul for 4000 words is emotionally exhausting XD

What did you all think of the new Paul developments? What did you think of Vyth, Blujh, and the Jeach? It's my turn again to ask you what your theories are! Get them going in the comments I want to talk to you guys!

Thank you all for reading the sixteenth installment of The Permutation! We are delving into the thick of it and I'm glad to have you all on this journey with me.