4 Marvin the Bat

"Look kid. I can show you how to escape. If ya trust me."

Blake threw a look at the mangled body that was Marvin, still on the floor. "Give me one reason why I should trust you."

"I can give you two reasons. First, I can't do nothing to you in the state I'm in. And second, you ain't got nothing to lose."

Blake leaned in closer to look at Marvin.

"I can lose my eternal soul, like you are fixing ready to lose."

For a moment, Marvin's eyes showed real fear. The stink of desperation hung in the air between them.

"Not if I show you how to keep yours, and to escape."

"And how you gonna do that, in a broken heap on my bedroom floor?"

"I'm still alive kid, till you suck all my energy, that is. If you don't want to kill me, then at least keep me with you and I'll show you how to escape."

"And if I don't want anything to do with you?"

Marvin's eyes grew tragic. "If you leave me here, it will be only a matter of time before some wandering low-level demon finds me and feasts on me. I can't protect myself, broken like this."

Blake gritted his teeth. Marvin was such a nasty old soul that it made him sick to his stomach just looking at him.

"How am I supposed to take you with me? I can't carry you around even if I want to."

Blake shuddered with distaste. The old demon was positively repugnant. He reeked of ancient smegma and a mouth that hadn't been brushed in years.

Marvin grinned, showing off all his ragged yellow teeth. "I do have one ability that was granted to me from the Overlord so I could do his dirty business."

"And that is?"

"I can change myself into a bat."

Blake raised an eyebrow. He'd like to see that.

Marvin grimaced. "Problem is, my back's broken so I won't be able to fly. But I'm small enough so you can carry me around in your pouch!" His eyes looked hopeful.

Blake's initial knee-jerk reaction was to turn around and walk away.

No. Not walk away. RUN!

In fact, Blake had already started to turn away from the heap on the floor that was Marvin.

But then he paused.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No matter how much anger he harbored against this low-life, he knew that what Marvin said was true. If he left the asshole in the state he was in, Marvin would soon be attacked and sucked dry.

His inappropriate and tiresome 'do no harm' mentality was starting to kick in and it was happening in the stupidest, most moronic way.

"Fine. Change yourself into a bat."

Marvin pressed his lips into a thin line but his eyes spoke volumes of his gratitude. He closed his eyes for a second and POOF, just like that, a bat was lying on the floor, unmoving.

It was a tiny brown bat, barely the size of a stick of butter. At first glance, Blake thought it was dead, but then its amber eyes began to move.

"Can you still talk or are you mute because you're now a bat?"

'I can still talk, but I can't use my mouth how I like to. Bat mouths can't talk.'

"Can you hear me even if I don't talk out loud?"

'Yep. You walk around with your mind wide open boy. It's like you got diarrhea of the brain. You have to learn how to think to yourself and not force everyone around you to have to listen in on you talking to yourself.'

'So how do I pick up a bat with a broken back?'

Blake directed the question at Marvin, but before Marvin could answer, the robotic monotone voice spoke up within his mind.

«Recommended method. To pick up objects, focus on object and command it to be moved. Recommended placement. Pouch.»

A drawstring bag appeared within his visual field at the top right, .

'Wait!' Blake called out to the voice within his mind. 'This pouch is in my mind. That bat is real and lying out there with a broken back. How am I supposed to squeeze this guy into a bag that only exists in my brain?'

In answer, a number appeared under the bag.

0/50

'Are you telling me I can fit 50 things in this bag, including a demon?'

«At this time, your pouch can hold fifty items, including plants and pets. To increase the number of items able to be placed into the bag, use gold coins.»

Next to the drawstring bag, there appeared a gold chest.

The number under the chest was 0.

Blake shook his head with misery. Not only was he stuck with a cantankerous smelly demon, he was also broke-ass poor.

'He's not a pet. He's a demon. Can I still place a demon into the pouch?' Blake asked again.

«To pick up objects, focus on object and command it to be moved.»

Again, the monotone voice droned on, saying the exact same thing it said before.

Blake focused his attention on the bat still lying on the floor.

The metallic voice spoke up.

«This object may be moved to pouch. To add object to pouch, focus on pouch while picking up object.»

Well here went nothing.

Blake kept his intense stare at the bat and then looked at the drawstring bag.

The bat levitated for a moment, but as soon as Blake turned to look at the bag, it reappeared on the floor.

He tried again.

Again, he failed.

'Wait! Wait! Hold on a gosh darned minute!' Marvin yelled into his mind. 'You can't do it like that you fool. Call out the command FIRST, to pick me up!'

"I don't know any command words…"

'Are you an idiot? You do know English, don't you?'

English?

Weren't commands supposed to be in mystical, magical languages? Was the old bat joking?

"Pick up bat." Blake called out in his most authoritarian voice he could muster.

Marvin levitated off the floor.

Well, at least that worked. How to put it in the bag was another issue, but perhaps one that he could figure out, now that he knew enough to call out English commands.

"Put bat into pouch." He enunciated carefully, transferring his attention to the drawstring bag.

In an instant, the bat had disappeared from the floor.

At the top right corner, the drawstring bag now showed new numbers.

1/50.

'Congratulations, dumb-ass. You actually figured out the pouch thing. I think you and me, we're gonna get along just fine. Hehehe.'

A dry system voice chimed in.

«Congratulations. You have gained 3 power from: Marvin Locke. Passive sympathetic transference.»

Blake glanced at the green bar. It now showed 3 energy power. He heaved a sigh. He was a weak gullible fool.

A broke, weak, gullible fool.

He had tried to escape the sound of this mofo's voice during his lifetime, and what did he do?

He had just voluntarily added this maniacal mental bat to his tiny drawstring pouch, the one that could now only hold 49 items!