Chapter 90: The Plan
"Are you dead, Mr. Monday?"
"...You are?"
Riley was seated beside Mr. Monday, both of their backs resting on one of the metal crates. Riley placed him there, and it didn’t really take long at all before Mr. Monday succumbed to the comfort of death.
"Well, that is very disappointing, Mr. Monday."
Riley glanced at Mr. Monday, pressing his finger on his shoulder. But alas, there truly was no response from Mr. Monday at all—his body was already completely limp, and he just dropped to the floor with the slightest touch.
"I was truly expecting your stomach to burst. I suppose it was a matter of not having enough sodium metal."
He sighed, standing up and patting his pants while looking down at Mr. Monday’s corpse. He stared at his eyes, which no longer held any color or light, and shook his head in disappointment.
"I wanted you to scream and suffer more for threatening Sister, Mr. Monday," he whispered, "But like always, I am constrained by time—perhaps one day, I can take all the time I need... but for now, this would have to do."
Riley looked around the storage room before settling on the remains of the compressed metal box he and Mr. Monday had played with earlier. He called for it, and it still had traces of Mr. Monday’s blood—it didn’t matter, however, as it wasn’t going to be seen with how he was planning to use it.
He opened up his palm, and at the same time, the compressed metal ballooned up, almost returning to its original form if not for the streaks of wrinkles here and there. He stared at the wrinkles for a few seconds, glaring at them until they started to flatten.
And after a minute had passed, most of the surface had become smooth. For some reason, this felt like the hardest thing he had tried to do with his telekinesis; to try and remove the creases from the metal box and make it as smooth as its original state.
Perhaps if he had vibrated the metal at first to heat it up, like what he did with Mr. Monday’s toothbrush, he could have done it more easily.