Blarghy

The shapeshifter wasn't entirely sure what she meant. He shrugged a little and guessed, "Yes? I like being Leviathan. Most of the time. That form isn't perfect for every situation, but it has a lot of advantages most of the time. I can be stronger, tougher, and go places and do things that no ordinary human can. Like discover tribes of Deep Ones," he added with a smile. On a sudden whim, he wondered if he'd be happier giving up his human life and becoming Leviathan entirely. What did Tristan really have that the big guy didn't, other than vast wealth? The more he expanded his heroic career, the more his social life centered on it; these days, his most reliable friends knew him as Leviathan anyway, whereas life as Dr. Delacroix seemed to be mostly chores and stress. Was that where his journey was headed? To eventually leave humanity behind and embrace his scaly mask? Tristan wasn't sure how he felt about that. He turned back to the present. "Anyway, thank you for not telling anyone. Is your nature a secret too? With your armor, I probably wouldn't recognize you as a Deep One. Is that how you like it? I assume it would make life easier here on the surface..."

Leviathan's wide eyes still suggested his surprise and concern, but it gradually gave way to resignation and a little--just a little--hope. Maybe I can trust her like I trust Bonfire, he thought. Not that I have any choice now. Still, I did help her, and she seems nice... I just hope Aquaria can keep a secret. The Deep One might skitter away again when Leviathan shivered in a weird and unnatural way. Before her eyes, his scales receded as though washed away by an invisible tide. Pink human skin took its place. His reptilian features started to mutate as well; for a moment, the great beast looked like some huge, bald rat standing on two legs. He only became uglier as he shrank and the volumes of excess skin hung off him in folds. Then, in the last few seconds of the transformation, his body pulled itself together. Sea Devil's suspicions were confirmed: before her stood a fairly nondescript man, light brown hair, flesh cluttered with freckles, not much taller than Aquaria herself. Even Bonfire hasn't seen my real face. I'm not about to start showing it off now! He lifted his arms briefly and shrugged. "Well...you were right. And you're right about it being a secret. Please, don't tell anyone! If people know, then my real life will get a lot more complicated, and I'd have to stop being Leviathan too."

"Go around the other side," Leviathan agreed. "I'll give you a little time to get in position, and then bust through the gate on this end. I'll pay for the damages, don't worry, but hopefully a shocking entrance will encourage mAZ to surrender. If they don't, I'll chase them toward you, and we'll catch as many of the hackers between us as we can. Does that work for you?" He shifted his massive bulk from foot to foot, eager to start.

And back to Miracle Girl!

GM Going to the ground floor would leave her alone with the man she'd rescued, but if Terrifica stopped a bit lower, she'd find that Sea Devil and Singularity had the kidnappers (well, most of them) well in hand. Her request brought a clamor from the other half of the room, all of the hostages being doctors and medical researchers. "I can help--we can all help!" Dr. Daza said as he hurried forward. He looked aghast at Tristan's swollen and discolored body; his head more resembled a bunch of blueberries than a human face, and what little skin wasn't almost purple was instead a deathly gray. Other than the occasional shiver, the young doctor remained unresponsive. Thanks to Miss Grue, the heroes knew they had another problem, aside from the obvious trouble taking place at the bottom of the bunker. Their psychic ally showed them the minds of about half a dozen "people" who, from her perspective, were little more than thoughts of violence. They seemed curiously empty other than their savage focus toward the house our champions still struggled to control--and they weren't far away. Miracle Girl, with a quick glance, could see through the dirt, concrete, and buildings across the street, once Miss Grue directed her attention. Seven well-armed individuals were taking cover; they wore bulky metal suits rather like Fallout-style power armor. All of the warriors also carried assault rifles and grenades. Worse, although they stood with professional stillness, the occasional movement or twitch was inhumanly fast. Not as fast as herself or her enemy, but nonetheless enough to be a problem. Of course, she didn't have much time for a longer analysis, thanks to the furious speedster bearing down on her.

Leviathan was about to talk about how surfacers weren't always nice either, and could cause devastating violence for quite dumb reasons, but all that blanked from his mind at Sea Devil's final question. Shock ran clear across his face, and he leaned back as though suddenly afraid of her. "Why would you ask that?" he demanded hastily. "How did you know?!" Then a little prudence crept back in through the fearful fog that clogged his head. If she was just guessing before, then she knows now! Leviathan thought. Stupid!

Leviathan couldn't really blush, but he did seem embarrassed at Grim seeing through his evasiveness. "It's not that I don't trust you," he tried to hastily explain. "But it's...complicated." He took the card almost reverently, then chuckled when he read it. Pointing again toward Bonfire, he said, "We're easy to find online. Got a blog, like I think I mentioned. If you run into any trouble, or anything fun, and want help, then send a message. I'm great for drawing attention, punching villains, and opening jars off the top shelf." He flexed one of his gigantic, scaly arms amidst the folds of red velvet.

Hopping a fence was less trouble than trying not to crack the concrete on the other side. "I could shapeshift to hide until we strike," he considered. "But...the change takes a little longer than I care to be exposed for. The hackers might just have guns, and getting shot as a human is a lot more dangerous than when I'm 'suited up,' so to speak. Guess I'll avoid the cameras as best I can and move fast once we're spotted." On he followed.

Hmmm. Well, aside from just a fun little background detail, maybe you could turn this into an adventure by having some villain suck the heroes into whatever game they're playing (or a special dimension based on several games, since there seems to be a wide spread here). I don't really picture Leviathan as a gamer, except maybe at parties, but I actually do see Adept getting drunk and playing something lighthearted like Mario Kart now and then to unwind. He probably wouldn't care for FPS; he sees too much gun violence in his day job to enjoy it.

True, he had many, and Leviathan would love a chance to really pick Aquaria's brain for all the details about her species, but he didn't think that now was the appropriate time. "Actually, I want to apologize," he answered. "When I first saw you and the other Deep Ones at my lair, I assumed you were going to cause trouble. I've always thought of you as dangerous and evil creatures, but now I know differently. You must get that sort of reaction all the time, and you don't deserve it." The lizard gestured out to sea. "The tribe shouldn't have to run away and hide in what few nooks haven't been claimed yet. It isn't fair; you have a right to live just like anybody else. I wish I knew a better way than the one we had to take tonight."

"I can help with your costs, if there are any," Leviathan said without apparent concern. "But honestly, I don't see why we'll cause damages unless we're careless. I don't want to jinx this, but what, exactly, can they even do to us? Tweet angrily? Crash your blog before we take away their computers and phones? These are just regular humans, right? Not even well-trained humans at peak health, far as I know. They could have fancy tech like Solemn did--that'd be a problem. Otherwise, this should be laughably easy. "Although I do wonder what mAZ is doing here in the first place, if they aren't leaving the city..."

Most of those sounded like jokes, and Leviathan laughed accordingly--a delighted giggle aimed more at Grimalkin's continued attention than anything else. He was about to jump on the chance for common ground, but this time his better judgment managed to get ahead of his mouth, if only barely. "Oh, I've also done--" Don't talk about going undercover! No one will believe me unless I morph to prove it, and that's still supposed to be a secret. "--Ahhhhmmm...I mean, I've--" Definitely don't mention interdimensional travel! That one was as Tristan, so it's even more of a secret. "--Uuuhhhh...well, now that I think about it, I mostly stumble over bad people and beat them up. But it's working ok for me so far!"

Leviathan didn't like the sound of this. The hackers were only trapped if they weren't planning to skip town, and he'd just given them plenty of money to buy tickets if they weren't already prepared. Had he tipped mAZ off somehow, making them so nervous that they were willing to leave Freedom City altogether? Was it a setup from the start? Did Ph0enix betray him for some reason? I could follow them in, he thought. But what then? Transform and start a fight in the middle of a transport hub full of people? AEGIS would be after me if I caused that kind of panic. Maybe these guys are picking someone up, not flying out. Still, I don't like it! Yet, without any good options, he saw little else to do but rejoin Bonfire and plan their next move together.

Leviathan 14 Beloved Monster 4 Freedom of Information 4 Good Company and Good Cheer 5 News Post 1 Well, that's annoying. A mere 1PP for Leviathan (give him my Guide bonus too, please), and a whole lot of nothing for Adept. And just to nail down what we're currently discussing in the Chat: I think I became a Guide in June (I no longer have the PM in my inbox thanks to the technical troubles I had a few months ago, but this thread was in June, so that's the best evidence I can offer) and didn't start getting the bonus until October, so AA, if you still want, that's 4PP that can all go to Leviathan.

Leviathan grinned like an idiot when Grimalkin climbed up him; weirdly enough, this seemed to keep happening with beautiful heroines, but he wasn't going to complain about the trend. He held his own drink aloft for the pictures. If she signs hard copies, I should put them in my trophy room! he thought. "You can send them online," he suggested to Gretchen, and then pointed to Bonfire. "We do blogs!" We "do" blogs? Jesus. "Or we can meet again sometime," the festive lizard hastily added. He really wanted those autographs. "We should work together!"

Sniffed out by Thevshi Leviathan Adding some Wisdom, skill ranks, and some Super-Senses for both his regular form and for his transformation container. It's justified here. 20PP in total. Wisdom 2 [2] Skills 5PP=20R [5] Knowledge (Life Sciences) 2 Medicine 2 Notice 8 Sense Motive 8 Super-Senses 3 (Olfactory (Acute, Danger Sense, Tracking 1)) [3] Super-Senses 10 (Olfactory (Accurate 2, Blindsight 4, Extended 2 (1,000), Tracking 2 (3 total)) [10]

Sanguine Sensibilities Tristan spent his Christmas as he did the year before: at the bottom of the Great Bay, alone. His current project wasn't so ambitious as the biological lair in which he worked, but he hoped it would propel him forward all the same. Over and over again, his recent adventures as both his frail human self (although he hesitated to call his kidnapping an adventure) and the mighty Leviathan revealed weaknesses that no muscle could surmount. Many of his fellow heroes proved superior in this regard. Miracle Girl, Sea Devil and her kin, and others demonstrated firsthand that raw power was good, but being able to see where you were aiming was better. Whereas Leviathan was easily left obscured by imperfect conditions or the tricks of his enemies, better champions could still act. But even now, his pride hindered him. Tristan knew both as a biologist and from firsthand experience that vision was a fantastic sense, superhuman vision even better, and could've asked these other heroes to let him model his improvements on theirs, but he didn't. Fantastic eyes were relatively common. He didn't just want to be effective; he wanted to be special. So, here he was, putting the finishing touches on a nose that could sniff out God. "Olfactory epithelium looks good," the reptile muttered to himself as he double-checked the screen's projections. It depicted a lump of specialized tissue about forty times the size of a human's. That was just the start. By nature, Tristan had a few million receptor neurons in his nose. Good bloodhounds could boast around 250-300 million; they not only smelled further and keener, but could detect scents that lesser animals had no means to even recognize. If all went well, Leviathan was about to have 1.2 billion receptors, making him a rival to the North American brown bear. Furthermore, his new nose would have a chamber for breathing and two more full of mucus-coated hairs to trap odorants. The olfactory bulb in his brain got a major upgrade too, as did its corresponding cranial nerve. Tristan tweaked his mitral cells for maximum efficiency, his piriform cortex, and a dozen other related organs and subsystems. "Nothing tangible is ever going to catch me by surprise again," he promised himself. These improvements weren't only limited to Leviathan, either. Tristan was incorporating a few of them into his own body--but only a few. Spatial constraints were part of the problem, but aside from not wanting a nose that Pinocchio would envy, he also couldn't risk changes so severe that they threatened his secret. Not again. He awoke in a hospital bed, months ago. The last thing he remembered were hazy flashes of violence. Cold. Indescribable fear. How did he get here? He had been...they kidnapped him, those kids and their fire-ghost master. Tristan remembered fighting one of the teenagers, only barely winning. He remembered watching Luca die. Anxiety started to bubble in his stomach, driven by all the things he didn't know. When he turned his head and saw his older brother Alex sitting there, it evolved into real panic. The eldest Delacroix wore a small frown, which meant he was furious. A clipboard rested on his knee. "Good morning," he said coldly. Then Tristan remembered the moments before he was abducted. They had spoken at the party that night, he and Alex. Ice filled his heart; his breath stuck in his lungs. He tried to think of something to say, but when he opened his mouth, he could only whimper. His clear submission didn't seem to amuse Alex, which was the clearest sign of his fury yet. "I trust you're feeling well," he continued; his tone implied a hidden grievance behind the ordinary comment. Tristan struggled to speak. "I..." "I strongly trust it, in fact." Alex held up the clipboard. "You suffered an impressive variety of injuries. Abrasions, contusions, lacerations, puncture wounds, multiple fractures, even hypothermia, and yet, I trust you're feeling well." In any other circumstance, a non-physician reviewing his personal chart would enrage Tristan, but now he only continued to gape. "Alex...Alex, please..." His brother stood up. "How could you hide this from me? How could you be so stupid?" A hint of confusion began growing in the back of Tristan's mind. Something wasn't right here--well, something else beyond his obvious troubles--but he couldn't see it yet. "You're forming granulation tissue faster than you should be," Alex gestured sharply with the clipboard. "Your leukocyte count is a third higher than normal. After what you endured, you should've had a significant concussion, but based on your scans, your cerebrospinal fluid has an unusual consistency that makes it better at shock absorption. This goes on for pages!" And yet, those alterations paled next to Leviathan's capabilities. Tristan didn't understand; if Alex already knew about his special hobby, then why was he so angry about the stepping stones that led to the Leviathan transformation? "I-I thought...at the party, you said..." "I was talking about how you've been stealing money from your stupid little charity! I didn't know you were using those funds for your own black budget!" "I'm not stealing! It's my money! I just--" "Quiet!" Alex snapped. "Your clumsy, foolish antics have gone too far this time. Yet again, I've cleaned up your mess. The doctors who ran your tests have accepted contracts with the FCI's Paris branch, complete with strong non-disclosure agreements. I also have my people keeping watch for anyone poking into your charity; I'm not about to let you embarrass me by going to trial for tax evasion or the like. But my altruism has its limits, Tristan. No more secrets. You will share your research with Delvin and myself. You have profited from our hard work all your life, and it's time you gave back to the family instead of leeching from it. Do you understand?" He doesn't know about Leviathan, Tristan thought. I almost gave myself away! The fear from such a close call drowned out any relief he might've felt, and the anger too--although that would come swarming back later. "I understand," he managed with bitterness and dread. Implementing the improvements was relatively simple, once he had all the details prepared. Leviathan's body was full of stem cells ready to specialize at a moment's notice, usually to regenerate; all he had to do was command them. Oddly, making the watered-down alterations to his human form was perhaps a bit harder, so he "reset" like a computer shutting down to update. Now as Tristan in this giant's lab, he slowly inhaled through his nose. The vibrant scents around him were almost overwhelming. He had grown accustomed to all the plants growing from the walls, ceiling, and floor, to the point of hardly noticing them, but they came rushing in like he was discovering them for the first time. Tristan put a hand on the chair beside him--now the seat raised almost as tall as his shoulder--for balance. Everything was so vibrant and sweet! He designed the flora in his lair to appeal to the eyes and nose alike, but with this new power, he could detect subtle intricacies that he never even intended. Tristan took down a piece of fruit and savored the new appreciation for its flavor. "Merry Christmas, me," he told himself. But then his smile wavered a little. "...I still have to give Alex and Delvin their presents too." He could hide this research from them, true. He certainly wasn't about to share the full extent of what he'd added to Leviathan. However, his brothers probably already wondered what he'd been working on in his spare time for the past month, and the last thing he wanted was for them to snoop further into his business and discover his real secret. Better to give them a little, so that they didn't take all he had. Up in the lair's command center, he struggled to climb into Leviathan's huge captain's chair and forward the basics of his research. At least he could test his efforts in the process; even as a human, Tristan could tell when one of his bizarre animals was getting close to him, although he wasn't able to track the buzzing insects as precisely as he hoped Leviathan could. Still, a useful new asset. Then he eagerly returned to the central elevator, ready to try out the real meat of his labor. He decided to transform in the gardens for full effect, and because he loved that part of the lair second only to his extensive labs. He stepped from the platform, through the waterfall around the elevator, and walked with bare feet onto the soft, alien clover. Tristan took a breath, triggered the change, and breathed again. It was awful. All the mechanics of his olfactory system worked as intended, but even though his brain had the technical capacity to analyze the input, it was in no way prepared. Unimaginable stimuli crashed over him like ocean waves; he fell under scents that his ancestors hadn't consciously noticed for tens of millions of years, scents he had no names for. And suddenly, the garden wasn't so peaceful. He could smell the deathly fear of a bug being eaten alive mere feet from him, as well as the less sharp, but more lasting, panic of an unsuccessful hunter across the room. He smelled a plant above his head "scream" with bursts of chemicals as its leafs were chewed apart. The pheromones of hopeful predators clashed with terrified prey all around Leviathan; he gasped, choked, and stumbled toward the nearest pool of water, where he dunked his head, but that was no better, because it too was full of death. As he started to come to grips with the world of pain he'd created, Leviathan began smelling the other side of nature's coin. Anything that wasn't killing or dying was seeking out, preparing for, in the midst of, or just finishing mating--a more pleasant state of affairs, but no less overwhelming to his new nose. Tristan Delacroix called himself a biologist when most boys his age were still learning cursive, and while he logically recognized that life was just a cycle of sex and necrosis, he had never experienced it like this. Maybe that was the core of his character: the man who knew so much but understood so little. He couldn't rally his concentration enough to return to human form. Leviathan slipped forward, fell into the pool, and sunk amidst the fish and amphibians who loved and warred together without end. He slipped into a kind of trance; as he ascended above his own apprehension, he was able to watch himself in a detached way, smelling the fear-hormones his body emitted. The garden took shape in his mind until he saw its entirety, clearer and more detailed than his eyes ever managed. Time passed; he couldn't tell how long. But eventually, Leviathan reached a meaty hand over the side of the pool, sunk his triangular claws into the rich soil, and pulled himself out. He became a thin, pale man again by the water's edge and knelt there, subdued. Tristan couldn't put it into words, but some realization had dawned on him. If he tried to explain it, he knew it would seem cliche. To call it "the circle of life" seemed too clean, too pretty, and didn't do justice to the desperation he witnessed. It belittled the relief of the victors, whose violence meant their struggle would continue a little longer, and the horror of the victims, whose failure meant that theirs would not. An urge came over him to end the cycle, sterilize the garden and perhaps his entire lair, because nothing else would stop all this pain...but life's agony extended far beyond his domain, didn't it? And then Tristan saw himself on the cliff that so many villains had fallen over, looking down at the realization that life was suffering and death was peace. He understood what he had once considered madness; now it seemed all too sane. With effort, he pulled back, clinging to any counterargument he could find. Most of them felt hollow compared to the visceral proof all around him. The only solid reason Tristan could maintain was simply, Because I must not submit to that trap. His experience hadn't brought him answers, but rather, haunting questions. In a way, that was more wisdom than he'd ever felt before. As wisdom often did, it hurt. He leaned forward onto his elbows, then rolled to his side, lying there on the soft clover. Thoughts without words draped over him like a blanket, until at last, he fell asleep.

"A good plan," Leviathan agreed, understanding Sea Devil's reasoning. He was eager to rise above the dark, deep waters and see by the light of the moon again; this experience had made him jealous of the Deep Ones' senses, and he was already considering how he might solve his deficiencies in the future. Of course, mostly he thought about the trouble they might run into during the tribe's exodus. Leviathan wasn't so much worried about an Atlantean patrol--he was starting to see them as bigoted enemies by this point, even though he himself probably would've attacked Deep Ones more or less on sight mere hours earlier--as complications from Freedom City. If other heroes tried to intervene, would he be able to sway them? The last thing he needed was a big misunderstanding that branded him a villain in the eyes of his own people. The tribe's substantial risk felt distant compared to the inconveniences he might personally suffer if something went wrong; Leviathan at least recognized his selfishness and regretted it, but he couldn't shake his worries, and a small part of him second-guessed his involvement. No, he told himself firmly. These people need help; I'll see it through to the end.

Above his snout and wintry forest of a beard, Leviathan's eyes slowly widened until they seemed to bulge like a frog's. "You're...you're the Grimalkin," he said with awe and wonder. She just told me that! a little voice in his head raged. "I'm Leviathan," he added giddily. And I already told everyone that! He struggled for something else to add, his hands folding together around his pitcher of cider, his feet shuffling restlessly. Finally, from behind his beard came a muffled and childlike, "Hee hee!" ...God damn it.

The marine biologist in Leviathan was delighted for this extended look into their lives and culture; he entertained the idea of writing a series of research papers when he returned home, though it would have to be under a pseudonym. He felt a little nervous answering their questions in turn, as demonstrating even general knowledge about the surface carried the risk of revealing his closely-guarded secret. He took care to balance this danger by dropping details from his cover identity here and there. Leviathan was supposed to be able to lean heavily on his and Bonfire's prep-work in these sorts of situations, but he didn't have access to their blog and other online propaganda down here in the deep. Hopefully the cultural differences and the goodwill he'd built up would help mask his lies: that he wasn't exactly a surfacer, but instead the last of an alien species that crashed here long ago, born alone and raised on the broadcasts and other morsels of information that his ancient ship picked up from the humans above. In any case, he was glad to see that the two ladies were apparently making peace. He wondered if their duel had relieved the tension between them, perhaps as part of Deep One tradition; would Ikatare be happy to see him when he awoke, then? Leviathan deliberately bumbled around a bit to announce his presence before he approached, in case Aquaria and her daughter were having a private discussion. Not that he was likely to sneak up on them even if he wanted to, with their keen senses. "Is your mate recovering well?" he asked the younger of the pair.

The lizard raised his drink in reply. He didn't recognize this other hero by either appearance or name, which soothed his nerves; even though she was very pretty, Leviathan didn't feel as overwhelmed as he often did when bumping into more established vigilantes. Replica? She's...maybe a duplicator? Can't say I much cared for the last one of those I met, so I'm glad she's on the side of good. Then again, she remotely triggered the jukebox, so what's that about? Would it be gauche to just ask her what her deal is? "You, too," he said, and then tilted his head toward the source of their Christmas tunes. "Nice trick with the music."

South, Leviathan thought. Could they be based in Bayview? I suppose I won't be too surprised if this crew has an upscale hideout; the man we met didn't seem astonished by the amount of money we gave him. Wherever they're going, I'll have trouble staying hidden if they cross Pramas Bridge. I can just swim, of course, but I might lose them until I get to the other side of the city. Hopefully Bonfire can handle that part. The reptile squinted at the comparatively tiny cell phone in his now-giant palm and typed a reply as best he could with the tip of a claw. On my way, he replied, and with a powerful leap, went to the top of the nearest building. From there he proceeded onward; hopefully their quarry wouldn't spend too much time looking up.

Pleasantly surprised by the (relatively) warm welcome, Leviathan gave the other heroes a lopsided grin and moved to join the crowd. He almost immediately turned back to the bar for a drink first. Even though he wasn't cold any longer, a night like tonight was perfect for something nice and hot. "Spiked cider," he rumbled to the bartender. "...In a bigger glass, if you can." The standard cups were much too small for him, and thirst aside, Leviathan didn't want to shatter his beverage accidentally. And so, soon holding a 60 ounce pitcher like it was a beer can, the jolly red-and-green giant sauntered across the bar to the Christmas tune from the jukebox. "Don't think I've worked with any of you before," he said with a gesture that included everyone but Bonfire. "I'm Leviathan."

Leviathan shared that curiosity. "Yeah, there might be more to their crew..." He chewed his lower lip and still couldn't help but quietly point out that, "We could take them now, and everyone else in the club...but if any of the hackers are safely elsewhere, then they'll go to ground and we'll probably never find them again. Maybe Ph0enix would be satisfied by just driving mAZ out of the city, but I'd really rather put them all away." He glanced around, wary of being overheard. "I guess we should play it safe. Leave, change, and then just follow them like we planned. You'll have no problem with that, I assume. If I try to keep up with you, then we're far more likely to be spotted, so how about you use your various tricks to stalk these guys, and occasionally send up a beacon of light to show me where you are. Something high up above the streets, and not so bright that the whole city sees it--I think that'll be safe. I can watch from the rooftops and follow you at a distance. Then, when the time is right, we can round them all up."

Just go in already! Shivering in the cold--his overcoat was real, but the clothes beneath it were just leaf-like fabrications of his own body--and wearing someone else's face, Tristan Delacroix had been spying on Morley's Pub and the heroes entering it for over an hour now. He knew full well that a halfway decent Cowl would spot him if he wasn't very careful, so instead of a traditional stakeout, he kept making loops around the block, cycling through different disguises on each pass. The doctor told himself that he was being cautious, but mostly he worried that he wouldn't fit in here. He missed last year's party for similar reasons; although he had a good excuse of spending most of December at the bottom of the ocean, hard at work, he also just couldn't overcome the intimidation he felt from all the famous, well-established heroes. He just knew he'd get in there, meet one of his idols, and make a fool of himself. Well, if I stay out here, then eventually someone's going to notice me, assume I'm lurking around planning to cause trouble, and kick my teeth in before I can transform or explain. If I blow it, then I'll just have to leave town and change my identity. So, no pressure. He slipped away again and made a final change to his body, more dramatic this time, and retrieved a bundle he had left hidden in case he summoned up the courage to attend. Yesterday, Leviathan thought this would be funny, but now, as he got dressed, he mostly felt like a dork. Moments later, through the pub's doors squeezed a gigantic lizard monster whose head almost scraped the ceiling, dressed in the world's biggest custom-made Santa suit. He couldn't just show up naked, could he? "Ho ho ho," he announced himself, uncertain despite the impossibly deep bass in his voice. Leviathan's curly white beard was so huge that a toddler could get lost in it, and the bell jingling on the end of his red hat was as big as a fist. Almost immediately, Leviathan realized to his dismay that he didn't recognize anybody out of costume except for Bonfire, who probably told him about this party in the first place. He felt even dorkier heading straight for his only friend here, rather than trying to meet new heroes, but for the moment he couldn't help it. "I've been watching you this year, Bonfire," he joked. "The bad news is, I know the sorts of things you get up to. But the good news is that you might actually like coal in your stocking."