Sweet Venom – Rebroken

“Well, I still ain’t comfortable with this, but I appreciate ya’ bein’ all cool about it, Seeth. Would upset me greatly if something happened to you out there.” Garnet turned his gaze back towards the czarite briefly, still looking slightly in the wrong direction, as they made their way towards his armoury.

 

The Fixer Den functioned as Garnet’s home as well as his place of business, and built only a little deeper into the asteroid were his living quarters. For what he’d tell you was security reasons, but was actually more for the convenience, he’d located his armoury only a corridor away from his quarters. The pleasant, gentle tone of his wife’s humming could be heard faintly in the background, reverberating from the kitchen. Even from here, in the cold, metal corridor, you could feel the welcoming warmth from the kitchen that, as far as Seeth could tell, was almost in constant use. The mouth-watering smell of freshly baked goods was to be expected now, as the sweet scent slowly filled the den.

 

Reaching into his pocket, the otter produced a heavy ring of keys. He flicked his fingers through and stopped on an ornate-looking bronze one, and quickly unlocked the heavy, indistinctive metal door. As the key clicked and turned in its lock, a metal handle suddenly popped out from the seemingly featureless exterior. He placed his hands on it firmly and pulled, but the door only moved an inch, despite the otter straining with effort.

 

“Let me give you a hand, Garnet.” Seeth reached out and pulled the door open slowly, as to not startle or throw the man off.

 

“Very much appreciated, missy.” He laughed, as he watched the door swing open with ease. “I’d get one of those automatic piston systems, but I just don’t trust like that.”

 

The armoury revealed itself to be an extremely well kept, steel environment, with numerous racks and the outer walls all lined with caged weapons. It was more than obvious that Garnet took his weapon-keeping seriously; it would take a sustained effort from a competent crew to breach this place. As the pair stepped into the armoury, a clinical coldness swept them both - the warmth from the kitchen couldn’t follow them in here. Garnet shivered briefly as he adjusted to the new temperature. 

 

“Honestly though, seeing you handle Tora out there like that has given me some faith that I ain’t just sending you to some early grave. I can tell you wen’ easy on her, I think she knows that too. Say, you hear the nicknames my crew came up with for you, after that wolf brothers contract?”

 

“They have nicknames for me?” Seeth recoiled a little, a mixture of emotions flickering across her face.

 

“Hell yeah there were. Seeth, muffin, you don’t just lift a man up by his spine without people takin’ notice. Some of dem nicknames were a little… uninspired, but nice intentions none-the-less!”

 

“Oh yeah? I’d like to hear your favourites.”

 

“Spinal. Triple B, stands for boy-bone-breaker. The Chiropractor. Erm… what was that - HEY LOVE-OF-MAH-LIFE!” Garnet called out, suddenly switching to his outside voice.

 

After a brief delay, an equally southern but higher pitched voice replied from somewhere within the den.

 

“WHAT’S UP, SUGAR?”

 

“WHAT WAS THAT NICKNAME FOR SEETH YOU LIKED AFTER SHE DID THE BROTHERS IN?

 

“OHHH, MEL CALLED HER THE ADJUSTER CUZ IT WAS LIKE SHE ADJUSTED THEIR SPINE AN’ THEIR ATTITUDE AT-THE-SAME-TIME!

 

“OH YEAH, THAT WAS THE ONE. THANK YOU, DARLIN’” 

 

“YOU’RE MORE THAN WELCOME, MAH’ SWEETIE PIE!”

 

“The Adjuster! I liked that one too!” Garnet quickly swapped back to his inside voice. 

 

For once, Seeth was glad Garnet couldn’t see her, as a sour cringe creased over her face dramatically for a couple seconds as “The Adjuster” carved its way deep into her soul.

 

“Now then, I think it was locker forty-five!” He turned on the spot but immediately face-planted into Seeth’s tit as the czarite briefly leaned forward to peek down at the weapons. He half-bounced back off as his forehead collided with her substantial breastage, and he fought to keep balance. “Dammit! Sorry, Seeth! What I walk into that time?!”

 

“Don’t worry! It’s my bad Garnet. I shouldn’t be so close. You… walked into my arm.” She feigned, trying to save the otter some embarrassment.

 

“Well damn, you got soft ass arms!” Not one to ever be embarrassed, Garnet smiled knowingly, and looked directly at Seeth. “I might need your help with the next locker though, these babies are heavy as hell.”

 

They quickly navigated their way to the correct locker; this one was much taller and wider than the majority of the other lockers they’d passed. The otter, with no hesitation, selected another seemingly random key from its ring and popped the locker open, revealing a three-metre tall, metal case within.

 

“You mind lifting that for me and bringing it over to the table,just over there!” He went to point, but quickly stopped himself. “I uh… ain’t gonna be poking you in the arm if I point, am I?”

 

Seeth chuckled softly and went to grab the case. “No, you’re good Garnet. I’m at the locker.”

 

“Good! I ain’t makin’ no habit of walkin’ into ya’. No matter how soft your arms are.” He laughed heartily and made his way over the large metal desk bolted against the wall. He pulled a couple of chairs out as Seeth gently placed the case down.

 

As Seeth sat down, Garnet ran his claws over the metal shell in front of him, sighing softly and taking a few seconds to compose himself.

 

“Everything okay?” Seeth asked, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “We don’t need to do this if you're having doubts.”

 

“I’m alright. Look, here’s the deal.” He spun and fidgeted around on the chair, trying to address Seeth as directly as possible. “Imma lend you these things, free of charge, plus ammo, for your first five Baron contracts. You do five of those things, I'll give you these weapons to keep forever, plus free ammo for every Baron contract you do beyond that, and I mean free. I ain’t gonna sly charge you for it, which is going to cost me a pretty penny because these things are rare as all star’s hell.”

 

“Okay, I'm with you so far. What’s in the case?”

 

Garnet popped the latches and barely inched it open, teasing the contents.

 

“Overkill, to be honest! When I said rare, dammit I meant it. They just don’t make weapons like these anymore!” He flipped the lid with some substantial effort, and revealed the weapons inside, both cradled perfectly in jet black foam, holding them in place.

 

“There’s no way in hell I can lift these things without popping somethin’, so feel free to handle them yourself, I’ll stay seated so you don’t gotta worry about bumping into me. Go on, try ‘em out!” He smiled, urging Seeth to inspect them.

 

The first weapon was a massive, upscaled, pump-action shotgun. Cast completely from high-grade titanium alloy, the weapon was more akin to artillery than your typical small arms, built squarely and with a tremendous amount of weight to its solid body. Carefully, Seeth stood and worked her fingers under the foam that encased the gun and pulled it free; it was almost as long as she was tall.

 

“That is an Ox-Forge, strider class, pump-action shotgun built to fire shells the size o’ god-damn pint glasses. They’re actually better used by loomer class folk due to its weight and recoil, but I know you’re sturdy as hell. It saw a very short production life due to lack of customers, Ox-Forge went bust a few years ago but they made hella’ good stuff! Quality over quantity, that sorta’ thing. I got friends who can make the ammo for you without too much hassle.”

 

As Garnet explained, Seeth quickly double checked to ensure the weapon wasn’t loaded and raised it to her shoulder. It was huge, even by her standards, but Garnet was right; she was able to lift and aim it easily enough. Every single element of the weapon was chunky and built to last, a bold statement of craftsmanship forged in fine metal, designed to clear both streets and skies in a single, thunderous blast. This thing had been made to be wielded by monsters, not soldiers.

 

“The weight helps a li’l with the recoil, but it's still a terror to handle. They called these things ‘surface-to-air fuck you’ cannons, or just SAFU cannons for short, because you can take down a low orbitin’ ship with them. I’m in awe they ever made these things to be honest with ya’.” Garnet reached down for an ammo case and popped it open, pulling out a standard, traditional shotgun shell and pinching it between his fingers, holding it up for Seeth to see. As expected, it came complete with the tomato-red body and brass metal trim.

 

“Here is your typical triple zero buckshot load I'm sure you’re familiar with, weighs around thirty five grams, give or take.” 

 

He placed it on the table, and then reached into the case with both hands, grunting with effort as he pulled out a massive shell. With a loud thud and a sigh of relief, he placed the second ‘shell’ onto the table. 

 

The pint glass comparison was apt, with the second shell looking more like a thermal flask of death than anything close to a standard, roamer-sized munition. Its body was a darker red than its tremendously smaller cousin, but it had the same brass trimming around the base.

 

“This is a standard shell for the SAFU, it weighs around six kilograms and fires a payload of tungsten ball bearings that can punch through reinforced metal and traditional body armour with over one kilometre effective range against small targets. Just one of the pellets in the SAFU shell when fired contains more kinetic energy than the entirety of this piddly thing.” He prodded at the smaller shell. “One pellet is enough to kill a man-sized target, even with a grazing shot, and it’ll punch through multiple targets with ease. Each shell contains... hmm… maybe around fifty balls?” He scratched his chin briefly. “ By all means, the SAFU cannon is a war crime to use on anyone who neither isn’t made of stone, nor trying to kill your whole family. But thankfully, the Vora Barons are just the sort of sick fuckers who would really benefit from rapid and destructive perforation on that sorta’ scale.” He chuckled in delight at the thought of the carnage a weapon like this could cause.

 

Seeth rapidly moved through several different firing positions with the SAFU cannon, emulating a firefight the best she could. Its size certainly needed taking into account, but she shifted the cannon with ease, her hand fitting comfortably onto its shaped foregrip. She cycled it, pulling the grip back and forth with a bassy ‘CLACK-CLACK’, closely listening to its mechanisms. Despite its size, it was smooth, at least when wielded by someone of her strength.

 

“As per all shotguns of this nature, its payload is adaptable and the size of the munitions means that this thing is practically a tank cannon in all but name. You want explosive rounds, chemical rounds, gas rounds… hell, the only thing I can’t get you is non-lethal, there just isn’t a way to throw six kilograms of bean bag at someone without splitting somethin’ important to their bodily capacities. So… what do ya’ think?”

 

“It's… well… I don’t know what to say, Garnet. Feels like it could rupture a ship's hull rather easily.” Seeth thought aloud, frowning slightly as she glanced back at the literal pint-sized shell on the table. “Don’t get me wrong, I actually rather like it, but I thought the Barons lived aboard ships?”

 

“It absolutely could! And they do! But Baron ships are built to withstand hell because the dumb bastards shoot each-other all the time with their own hand artillery. I would still keep an enviroshield on you, don’ get me wrong, but you shouldn’t need to worry about that too much. Besides that, we don’t tend to try and recover Baron ships as much as we burn ‘em, there's no resale value in those things. You like it though…?”

 

“I do. I really do. Something that actually fits my size for a change! Companies rarely cater to striders… What about the other weapon?”

 

Seeth turned back and replaced the SAFU cannon back into its foam, sharply focusing her attention to the second weapon in the other half of the case. Her eyes immediately landed on its huge, shiny frontal blade. It was a massive double-bladed axe, easily as tall as Seeth. Its frontal blade was the dominant one, with the back blade smaller but equally thick and sharp. The head was larger than Garnet’s entire torso and its construction was heavy, solid and robust, like the previous weapon, with a slight blue tint to its body.

 

“Ox-Forge again, but they collabed with Orion Industries to make this thing. I don’t know how many there are in existence, but it can’t be that many. It's made from some classified, patented metal composite that belongs to Orion but it’s neigh on indestructible, if you can actually lift the damn thing. Usually melee weapons like this would be damned useless in the confines of a ship, but again, Baron ships are huge to accommodate their awful girth, so you’ll have plenty of room to swing this thing.”

 

Seeth stopped for just a brief second, her heart skipping a beat. Of all the places, she wasn’t expecting to feel Diego’s presence in a giant axe… but it seemed like the sort of thing he would wield… She quickly took a deep breath and composed herself, gritting her teeth as she pulled the axe free of its foam casing and held it up high, with a single hand clasped firmly just under the head.

 

I have a job to do… This is to get him back… Come on Seeth, you can do this…!

 

“It’s got some counter balancing weight on its tail but I hear they still a bit unbalanced, no real weak points though so feel free to smack with any part of it. The blade self-sharpens with heat, some sort of memory alloy in the blade I think, and there's a button under the handle to flash heat the blade during combat. Absolutely useless to most folks on account of it weighing as much as two men, but in your hands..?”

 

Seeth practised some slow sweeps of the blade, quickly adjusting to weapons balance. Despite its size and weight, she handled it with no issue. 

 

“Don’t be afraid to use that thing as a shield either; the giant head on it will deflect anything that ain’t a railgun. This weapon didn’t get a nickname though - didn’t see enough use. So, what you think?”

 

“I think I could chop down a whole forest with this thing. With a little practice to adjust for its weird balance, I… like it.” Seeth smiled, and returned the axe to the case.

 

“You sure? I don’t mean to pry - hell, I can’t even see you! But… I dunno darlin’, I got some unusual vibes from you for just a second.”

 

“I’m fine, I just… I used to know someone who would’ve loved this axe. I’d rather not go into it. I do like the axe though.” Seeth sighed, running a finger up the side of the front blade.

 

“Say no more. I’m glad you like ‘em, these things have been collecting dust for years now! I just have one more thing I need to run by you.”

 

“Of course.” Seeth sat back down in her seat and tapped the otter gently on the shoulder to let him know. He spun around to address her as best he could.

 

“Just… this is personal now, not a contract thing.” He squirmed on the chair a little. “Promise me if you take these weapons, you’ll only use them on people that deserve their wrath. This personal crusade you’re stockpilin’ for, I know I ain't entitled to know your personal business and all that, but can I sleep easy tonight knowing that you’ll be putting lead towards those who oughta’ receive it, and not those who can’t do anything ‘bout it? If you catch my drift.”

 

“Garnet.” Seeth reached out and gently took the otter's smaller hand in her own. “The people who’ll be eating SAFU shells deserve far more than a quick death. But I will grant them the mercy of this personal artillery instead. I’m not gunning after people who don’t deserve it. Trust in that.”

 

“Glad to hear it. So -”

 

A shy knock at the open armoury door broke their conversation. Slowly, the now-bandaged form of Tora appeared in the doorway, holding a small food container in one hand and an ice pack in the other. Her face had swollen up and now looked quite round rather than sharp, her red pigment now even more pronounced than usual.

 

“Hey.” She mumbled sheepishly at the door.

 

“Well howdy, Tora! How's the chest feeling?” Garnet chirped, eyeing the clearly visible fist-shaped impression on her chest, despite the generous amount of medi-gel that had been slathered over it.

 

“All considered? I’ve been worse.”

 

Garnet waved her in and Seeth stood up, folding her arms and leaning against the back wall.

 

“You came here to say a piece or two?” The otter asked, his nose twitching slightly as the smell of pie began to fill the room.

 

“I did. I need to apologise to you both, now, whilst you’re still here. I hurt people who didn’t deserve it and let my temper get the better of me, I will pay for the property damage done here today, Garnet. Can I put this right?” The demoness’s accent shifted slightly towards a more well spoken tone as she spoke. The way her body language tightened made Seeth think this was something she had practised. 

 

“Awh now, don’t you worry.” Garnet replied, caving immediately. “I know how these things be sometimes. I ain’t gonna ban ya’ from the den, Tora. I’ll give you the chance to make amends, and mean ‘em.”

 

“Thank fuck for that…” Tora breathed a gentle sigh of relief. “This is one of the only places I’ve been able to get steady work… I’ve spoken to Mel already, and we’re cool, so that just leaves… well… you, Seeth.” Tora rubbed her arm anxiously, and stepped a bit further into the room. The demoness felt prickles across her skin as Seeth’s cold stare intensified on her. Shyly, she glanced up to meet the gaze of the amethystine alien.

 

“I, uh… I said some really, REALLY shitty things to you back there. You’ve been nice to me and I regret everything. I nearly ruined everything I've worked so hard on here and now that I know what it's about, I feel even worse. So…” She ruffled her hair shyly and broke eye contact with Seeth. “I’m sorry about the fight and the things I said. B-but-” Suddenly her face flushed, more red than ever. “I-If you did maybe want to grab a bite to eat sometime or-or a drink out, it would be my treat! Just hit me up if you fancy me - IT. If you fancy it.”

 

“Apology accepted, Tora. I’ve had bad days too. I’ll think about your proposition.” Seeth replied coolly. “No need to feel bad.”

 

“Cool. Right, thanks both. I’m uh… gonna find somewhere quiet to have this slice of pie and go about fixing that door… Speak to you both later, maybe?”

 

“Thanks for makin’ amends, Tora. Glad to see I wasn’t wrong about you.” Garnet smiled, as the oni backed out of the room, wincing in pain as she left. “See, that's what I like, a nice, happy endin’! Glad to see those classes are workin’ out for her, she’s always had one hell of a temper! Anyway, no need to make a decision on these weapons now if you need a little time -”

 

“No. I’m good. I’ll take them. I can start now.” Seeth replied firmly.

 

“Seeth…” Garnet spoke softly, reaching his hand out for Seeth to help guide his gaze. “Y-You just finished a job today; hell, two jobs! Look, I’ll let you take the weapons with ya’ but just… get a good sleep before you take these bastards on, please? Just rest a bit? Hell, you can sleep at the den if you’re avoidin’ home! We can make a bed up for ya!”

 

Seeth paused, letting a quiet sigh escape her silken lips.

 

“I… Fine. But I'm heading out tomorrow on my first contract. Send me the details, usual time.”

 

A warm smile creased the otter's face, wrinkling at the corners of his sightless eyes.

 

“Atta’ girl. I’ll pick a good starter contract for you. Ah shit, you’re gonna need some holders for the SAFU shells! Six K-G a piece, even just a triple load is seventy-daaaaamn-two kilograms of lead! Or tungsten I suppose. Cmon’, let's find you a couple of bandoliers and some pouches! You got a favourite colour? I think I got some hot-pink ammo pouches if you want the style points! Oh! You’re gonna need a harness for the axe! I MIGHT HAVE A HOT PINK HARNESS TOO!”

 

*

 

A fierce sigh hissed from between Scyler’s dagger-like teeth as he walked the length of the pristine white corridor. Several small dragonfly drones were flying up and down its length, cleaning the surfaces with relentless vigour as they scanned the corridor with bright blue lights. 

 

He tugged at the collar of his uniform, stretching his neck out as the fabric clung to his skin a little too snugly for his liking.

 

“This is shit. I hate these scratchy bloody things.”

 

He stared out of the corridor’s glass panes and over the station. Another annoyed sigh escaped his lips.

 

“Too small here. Stupid fucking Jace. You know what? Fuck this. I need some stress relief.”

 

He turned on the spot and quickly made his way back towards the anomalous labs. Every lab he passed by was either dark or only had one or two people finishing up some late night projects. Those who spotted him waved a quick hello as he passed by.

 

Before long, Scyler arrived at the heavy security door that led to the ‘stress relief’ in question. A single guard in traditional DA armour was stationed outside, and waved him over.

 

“Hey Scyler. Late night work, huh?” The guard mused, tapping on his gauntlet to activate the door controls.

 

“Yeah. Feeling itchy.”

 

“Reason for visit?”

 

“Reason?” Scyler cocked his head, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Oh, Evangaline is keeping track of why people are visiting the lab, nothing you need to worry about.” The guard shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

 

“Hmm. Morale enhancement. She’ll know what it means. You know if anyone is in the observation bay?”

 

“Nope. I think it's completely empty, the team cleared out a few hours ago. You’ll have the place to yourself. You want the defences online?”

 

“Please. Camera’s off, too.”

 

“You got it. Have fun.” The guard smiled and opened the doors behind him.

 

Several tons of reinforced metal rolled back to reveal Plasia, still strung up like a puppet. She didn’t seem to have moved. The laboratory lights flickered to life automatically upon Scyler’s entry. The room was silent aside from a small machine sat in front of Plasia, whirring away with a mechanical determination. It appeared to be hooked up to her veins, with a couple of needles fastened into her wrists.

 

Plasia weakly raised her head to look at Scyler as the door locked behind him, and the cameras around her died. She seemed unfazed, however, and let her head hang limp again.

 

The dragon's eyes looked over her defeated form with a wicked intent.

 

“Good evening, Plasia.”

 

She didn’t respond.

 

Slowly, he approached the pump machine in front of her and glanced over its slightly shaking body as it whirred away.

 

“Horrifying little thing, this.” He remarked. “Under normal circumstances, this would be little danger. Posing absolutely zero threat to anyone, nevermind a creature like yourself. But here, now? This little thing is slowly draining your life away. One pump at a time, draining your blood in a slow, constant drip. Such a tragic, awful way to go. Beaten by a syphon and a bit of electricity. Leaked to death. Does it drive you mad to know that? To listen to the life being sucked out of you for hours upon hours, alone in the dark.? No less than you deserve really, is it?”

 

I agree.

 

He continued., despite her silence.

 

“What an absolute piece of work you are. What you did to those poor nomads… I mean, wow. Two hundred people?! And that's just your personal body count. Those prostitutes, I can’t recall their names -”

 

Mina and Tani…

 

“-You bought them out, deceived them and corrupted them. All by your little loathsome self. The worst part was, they were likely enjoying themselves, until their bodies broke under the weight of your degenerate disease.” 

 

Suddenly, his shocked demeanour broke and a sly cackle erupted from him.

 

“Still, I'm so glad I recovered you. This condition you have is the real deal, we’re making breakthroughs already - nothing that would cure you, but… all-in-all, very good things. There’s real potential there.”

 

Maybe you’ll learn something that saves lives. Maybe I'll have contributed to something good before I die…

 

“Don’t get your hopes up, though. It's looking pretty bleak for your victims at the moment. This corruption is persistent once it infects someone.”

 

…I’m better off here… I can’t do any more damage locked up in here. I will not corrupt anyone else, ever again.

 

Suddenly, Scyler’s scowl returned, more intense this time.

 

“Rotten sack of pig-foul. Because of you, my field work has been suspended. I’m stuck aboard this station with you for the next year.” 

 

I don’t understand why he’s blaming me…

 

His temper rose again; Plasia hadn’t moved, hadn’t reacted, hadn’t even acknowledged his presence since he’d first entered the room. Angrily, he placed a hand on the pump and turned the dial up, just a little. The machine groaned and whirred as its pace quickened.

 

She didn’t even flinch.

 

His eyes scanned over her closely, watching her face, searching for any sort of response. His eyes twitched at their corners as he tried to figure out what to say next. Suddenly, a brief grin spread across his lips, and he turned the pump back down.

 

“You didn’t deserve him.”

 

Plasia shuddered in her restraints.

 

“There’s no way in hell he’d have ever accepted you. Not after what you did. You’re a fucking monster.”

 

Her eyes flickered open and met his scolding stare, tears building in the corners of her giant sapphire orbs.

 

“Oh wow. Wooow. You really are that self-absorbed? I’m here, telling you about the two-hundred nomads that you personally raped and corrupted, and you just sit there, not giving an absolute shit. But then I start talking about your precious little lover-boy and suddenly, oh boohoo, woe is me! You really don’t give a shit about anyone else but yourself, do you?”

 

“Shut up! Stop it!” Plasia suddenly cried out, her bottom lip wobbling as fresh tears streamed down her face.

 

“You think you’re the ‘good’ half,  but you’re just fucking awful. Selfish.”

 

Her cry broke into a deep, wrenching sob, her chest shuddering, her restraints shaking slightly.

 

“There we go! Ahh!” Scyler smiled, repositioning himself against the far wall. “Anyway, I’m just here to remind you that you murdered your boyfriend in a fit of jealous rage. His blood, your hands.”

 

“Please… stop… just - just…”

 

“He died on Barru X after your little performance, in the arms of another woman he loved more than you. Don’t want you forgetting that either.”

 

Plasia’s eyes slowly drifted down to the floor, she tried to form noises from her throat but nothing would come. Slowly, her head bowed again, broken and defeated. More crystal tears dripped down her face, pattering against the sterile floor.

 

The room fell quiet. The persistent churn of the blood pump throbbed in both their ears.

 

“Sigh. You’re boring me. Let's speak to your other half.”

 

Scyler pressed a series of buttons on the door panel. The vents in the ceiling opened, and a low hiss emanated from within. After a few seconds, a familiar, intoxicating scent filled the room. Sweet, rich and dark.

 

Plasia briefly shook and struggled in her restraints, then her body jolted, stiffened, and relaxed, and she was calm again. When she opened her eyes, her round irises were gone, replaced with those predatorial slits, sharp and intimidating, and staring straight at Scyler through the lab’s mellow lighting.

 

Scyler walked back over to the pump and began to fiddle with it, turning his back to Plasia as he idly played with the machine.

 

Slithering out from her parched throat, Plasia’s tongue slowly emerged between her lips and began to snake its way towards Scyler, reeling up in the air to strike him.

 

Just before she could reach him, a high-powered amber laser beam erupted from the corner of the room and struck the tongue, causing it to rapidly retract. A gurgling growl escaped Plasia’s throat.

 

“You know, for her supposedly unpredictable side, you are disappointingly predictable.” He sighed, turning back around to face her.

 

She met him with a furious scowl, twitching in her restraints.

“Am I immune?” He asked casually. 

 

“Why don’t we find out?” She hissed back, bearing her blunted fangs at him.

 

“Hah. I like that. You’re much more fun than your other half.” He’d asked the same question in every ‘interview’ he’d held with Plasia to date, and was yet to get an answer.

 

“You lie to her. Other me. Tell her I KILL pretty lizard. Why? NOT MY HANDS. NOT MY HANDS!”

 

“Because it's fun. You’re a murderer all the same, what's the harm in one more?”

 

“You LIE and LIE. Maybe you LIE about pretty lizard!”

 

“He’s dead, Plasia. He’s dead, and it’s your fault.” Scyler smirked as Plasia fought against her restraints. 

 

“BREAK FREE AND FUCK YOU! BREAK UNDER ME, UGLY EEL MAN!”

 

Scyler laughed. “Wrong. Wrong, wrong, and wrong. You’re going to die in this lab.”

 

“DO IT! STOP WASTING-WASTING-WASTING-WASTING TIME!” 

 

“You are going to die in this lab… when we decide so.”

 

Plasia hissed and tugged harder on her mechanical bonds. The machinery began to creak.

 

“And it gets better! You know your weak other half? She is glad that you’re both dying in here, because that means you won’t get to hurt anyone ever again. So she doesn’t fight back, she doesn’t resist, because she thinks this is the best thing for both of you! I know you like to think you’re the one in charge, but I think she still has her hand on the controls. She’s holding you back! It’s brilliant, I think.”

 

“STOP THIS!”

 

“Bah. You sound just like her.”

 

“EAT YOUR TEETH! SNAP YOU!!!”

 

A guttural, stomach churning roar emanated from the captive alien and she gnashed her teeth together furiously, snapping them together repeatedly as her eyes glared at the dragon with an unblinking death stare.

 

“Whelp! I feel much better after that. See you tomorrow! Remember, you’ll only die when we decide you’re no longer useful. Remember that, czarite. Byeeeee!” Scyler turned gleefully back towards the door. The mechanism parted and allowed him to exit as Plasia continued to gnash her teeth furiously, and shake in her restraints.

 

“Looks like you got some pep back in your step, Scyler!” The door guard remarked.

 

“I do indeed, my good man! Feeling refreshed! Right, I have some late night reports to do…”

 

The two continued talking as the door locked behind them, sealing Plasia back within the lab. The lights flickered off, and she was enveloped in darkness again.

 

But, she wasn’t alone. Not completely, anyway. From within the lab’s observation room, a single occupant stood in the dark, clutching onto her lab notes, absolutely horrified.

 

She knew she wasn’t supposed to be there. More than that, she knew she wasn’t supposed to have seen any of that.

 

She didn’t even know what that was.

 

But she knew it wasn’t right.

 

Her golden wheat-coloured wings wrapped around herself as she stared down at Plasia’s trembling form as Leech’s scent evaporated from the room.

 

Her eyes were wide and her body quivered in her self-embrace. A tear formed in the corner of her eye.

 

That was awful! Just awful!