VIII
"To put it bluntly, dear Jennifer," the baldy snuffed his smoldering nub in the flat, glass bowl beside the couch, "Schwarzwind, Incorporated is looking to procure the very Sword of Salvation or even its many fragments for research and development of new alloys – much like your mother had hoped to do. We would very much like to contract you to hunt for the sword or the fragments, as many as you can collect within your ten-week break."
"You want me," she blinked, "a crime-fighting sentry, to trek the globe for the very sword of this eponymous legend…?"
"Cost is of little consequence to the company." He said. "We're willing to compensate you generously for your troubles, repairs, upgrades, or even simple capital."
"But why me?" she pressed. "There're better qualified people for this sort of thing, aren't there?"
"Certainly, there are," Mr. Schwartz replied, "but we're running a little short on time and manpower. We need something that can cross the lands and seas, expediently. And I can think of no one more suited for the job than you, dear Jennifer."
"And what makes you think I want to?" arms buzzed as she folded them across her chest. "'Souls and Swords' an interesting legend, of course, but what if I have prior engagements already?"
"Like fun, the sun, and goofing off…?" in, her mother just had to toss in her two cents.
"So what if it is?" she frowned. "It's my life, after all."
"Dear Jennifer," the older man lifted his hand – a snap cracking from his awkwardly closed fingers, "you see, I'm a firm believer in mutualism. I'm not offering this simply for my benefit, but also for yours."
The top of his head a wavy brown cap, bent down little Hans did at the waist. A squeezed grunt, back up he unrolled with an impressive suitcase in hand. Twisting around, Mr. Schwartz took it simply by the leather-wrapped grip. Thin hinges of brass held the case closed, she saw, as the baldy set it upon the coffee table.
"My benefit, eh…?" her gaze narrowed. "They say strangers have the best candy, too…."
"XJ9!" her mother exclaimed. "He may be a bit of a whelp, but you'll still treat company with respect! You're not too heavy to bend over this knee, young lady!"
"Teens will be teens, fraülein." A couple of clicks squealing, the case flashed her its leather-bound lid. "Bursting from their cocoons of childhood, blossoming into adulthood with open wings, yet the concept of dyads still eludes them. So, it seems, they deliberately test us in a half-baked attempt to discover it for themselves."
"Whatever floats your boat." She dismissed.
"Jennifer…!" her mother growled.
"Don't worry, Dr. Wakeman." A gnarled hand guided the lid shut. "I'm sure I've the thing that'll get her attention—"
A quick arm shoved Bradley behind as buckling knees dropped her into a gentle crouch.
"That'd better not be a weapon!" she yelled. "I've had it up to here with guns!"
"Paranoia will get you nowhere, dear Jenny." Object hidden deep within his fist, the man pushed to his loafers, indifferently. "Actions understandable, but you shouldn't be so quick to judge. I'm not sure, but I believe it's bad for your ghost."
"What're you up to?" she frowned.
"A demonstration, perhaps." Wide loafers of rich brown closer carried the suit, arms of pinstripe squarely behind the back. "Perhaps you should see, even feel why this little proposition isn't something to turn a closed eye."
A couple feet away, the jagged point of her pigtail trained onto that dome of greasy sheen.
"That's close enough!" she barked. "Put your hands where I can see them!"
Fists arced neutrally from behind, outwardly knuckles pointing as sharp shoulders pulled them into a shrug. Harry corners pulled his lips into a gentle smirk.
"As you wish, dear Jenny."
Slowly, a bulky fist moved carefully towards her head, she could see jagged outcroppings of plastic peeking from out his clenched fingers. Fingers suddenly unwrapping, her pigtail twitched needlessly as a small sample bag dropped from his loose grip. Pinched tightly between thin pieces of foggy plastic sat a fat sliver of murky dark—
Her arm twitched – digits jerking, servos an angry buzz as the whole limb was caught in a violent tremble.
"NO!" placid digits immediately clamped upon the climbing forearm. "No – not again…!"
"JEN!" Brad had whipped around, instantly, futilely. "What's wrong!?"
Mother finally left the comfort of the high-back chair with a leap.
"XJ9!" the old woman cried in her trademark wave. "Jenny!"
"My ARM!" she grunted. "Can't… control – it…!"
The piece dangling before her, it suddenly was lost to the back corner of the room after a swift, backhanded swat. Knocked too away, the rusty boy suddenly found himself on his backside.
"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!!" she growled. "Someone – help ME!"
"On it!" The rusty boy called.
Bradley scrambled to his loafers, hurrying out of the living room without a second thought. Mother rendered stiff, paralyzed in disbelieving shock, yet nothing stopped Schwartz from that indifferent leer, smug smirk stretched within that encroaching beard of dirty gray.
"You sick BASTARD!" she screamed. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME…!?"
Erratic fingers straight like a spear, her good hand could barely hold them at bay as they eagerly lunged for her eyes. On still looked the old bastard, apathetically.
"Not a thing, dear Jenny." He shook his head. "Nothing that your own ghost isn't capable of, anyway."
An inch from her face, her good arm losing as twitching digits clawed for her eyes.
"Make it stop…!" she cried. "Please…!"
"This is madness, Schwartz!" Mom finally found her strong voice. "Make it stop – THIS INSTANT!"
"I'm afraid I can't, Fraülein Wakeman." A stubby digit pushed simply up the thin bridge of his glasses on his nose. "Her ghost's running its own program now."
"My ass, you old bastard!" the rattling strong, yet somehow her tympanums managed to pick up Brad. "Surf's up, Jen!"
In tight hands, Bradley had large bucket – a wave incandescent crystal splashed wetly onto her face at his whim. He winked – her rouge limb jerked, erratically! Caught in an awkward writhe, ragged strings of bright blue arced every which way across the wrist, the elbow, and her shoulder as her knees banged against the floor. Another hearty bang, the ceiling was bright through blue threads, quickly arcing over shaky eyes—
"Com – command c-c-connection – l-l-lost—!"
Sudden blackness consuming, she saw no more… for a moment.
---
His friend trapped in horrible seizure, Bradley had to do something – caring not for finesse, discretion, or a generous mess.
Suddenly knocked down, he had sprung to his feet at Jennifer's cry, rushing into the kitchen in a sprint full blown. Littered with refuse left to rot, the stink had fouled his nose as he easily closed the distance between him and the soiled tub. A sharp snort did little as he ducked for the little doors below, an orange bucket greeting him as the doors parted wide for his hasty hands. Once so light, the tap generously made it a burden within a matter of seconds. Did wonders, it must had on his arms and shoulders while he carted it into the living room.
Told the terrified girl of the low tide, shoulders were relieved of the burden while its load widely found its target. Bright flashes – he blinked as strips of hot blue arced throughout her being. Words a flat stutter, Jenny had collapsed to the floor in heap, wisps steaming rivaled those of the bald bastard's favorite pastime.
"Jenny!" the old woman awkwardly rushed for her creation. "Jenny—!"
"Doc, is she—?" he could not finish.
"No," the doctor would not let him, "the water simply shorted her out. Other than that, she seems okay. Either way, I'm going to have to initiate an emergency reboot."
The old woman pressed that metallic neck, firmly, the process already begun with a drawl of a whir.
"It should take a minute or two." The woman took to a knee, closely. "Whether her fit had passed or not, that's yet to be seen. Prepare for the worst. Brad, you'd better get another bucket of water ready – just in case!"
"Not before I get some answers!" he exclaimed.
Floorboards banging underfoot, that bald, greasy cap towered over him by a little more than a foot. Piercing blue eyes behind those traces of wire shot him an indifferent glance.
"What was that shard, Schwartz!?" he pushed to the stiff balls of his loafers. "What did you do to Jenny!?"
Eyes of blue rolled for him, indifferently.
"Nothing she wasn't capable of already, my boy." The geezer said, simply. "As I've said, it was but a demonstration for the skeptics present today."
Fists clenched, blood rushed hotly into his face.
"You call THAT a 'demonstration'!?" he shouted. "It was more like watching death shakes! What if she never recovers!? What happens to your little proposition then, huh – CARE TO TELL ME THAT, MR. SCHWARTZ!?"
"Fear not, Herr Brad." The baldy yawned. "A piece of the wicked spirit of Soul Edge, but it was not enough to completely overwhelm her."
"Are you telling me this sword actually exists?" he shot him a quizzical look.
"Haven't you been paying attention the past few days, my boy?" he shot back with a question. "Soul Edge is indeed real! This little demonstration was meant to show what happens when but a small fragment of the true blade comes into contact with one who's been exposed to its aura – contact direct or indirect. This would probably explain the bizarre rewrites of Jennifer's sentry protocols."
"There's no concrete proof of it, Mr. Schwartz!" the doctor shot back, her glare a hot dagger. "And if you must make a demonstration, would it behoove you not to use my daughter as a plaything?"
"If I must." He sighed.
"Yes, you must!" the woman frowned. "When she wakes up, you'll be lucky you and little Hans aren't too a mess on the rug!"
"Ugh… Mom…?" came a groan like static.
"XJ9!" her mother exclaimed, lifting up her creation by the bulky top with a huff. "Jenny, are you alright…?"
"Mom…?" pigtails rattled as she sense shook back into her head. "What happened…?"
"You had a short in your arm—!" Glossy eyes opened wide, the doctor eased her daughter back onto the carpet. "But don't worry – it's passed. You're okay now."
"My arm…!" Jenny moaned. "The shard…!"
"Hans," twisting his pencil neck, Brad wished he could do it for the badly as the man gave his underling a look, "would you mind putting the piece back into the case for me?"
"Jawohl." The underling suit nodded.
"You…!" Actuators hidden yanked Jenny's torso off the carpet with a bitter whine. "Bastard – WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME!?"
"You'd be wasting your breath, honey – if that were possible." Mrs. Wakeman kept her creation futilely at bay. "It'd take an act of the Bundestag before he stops with the teasers—!"
"I DON'T CARE!" Jenny shouted. "WHAT THE HELL'S HAPPENING TO ME, SCHWARTZ!?"
A sigh, displeasure thick as a gnarled hand went for his jacket pocket.
"Should I explain or would anyone else like to?" The geezer's hand slipped back out with a flat, tin case in a pinch. "I'm growing bored of playing the answer man."
"You're going to be stiffer than a board if YOU DON'T GIVE ME INFORMATION!" her steaming face painfully twisted in her seethe.
Pressed sleeves wrinkling within a crossed fold, he too let out a thick sigh.
This geezer's worse than Solomon…"You've been tainted by an evil energy, Jenny." Tall quaff of wild white shook in solemn defeat; Jenny's brow kinked, firmly. "Practically, a computer virus! I know, I don't want to believe that either, but what I've seen today and yesterday puts almost everything in a different light."
"Soul Edge…?" she blinked. "Does that mean it actually—?"
"Yes, it's safe to say we've established that." He nodded, sullenly. "I don't want to believe it, but what other explanation we've got?"
"Before your fit, dear Jenny, you saw a confirmed fragment of the Sword of Salvation." Baldy pinched a thin shaft of paper between his hairy lips. "The shard you saw simply aggravated your infection – an infection which you must've caught sometime after the Watkins kid attempted his little spell. So – as you can hopefully see now, dear Jennifer, this little proposition of mine is for both our mutual gain."
"I'm out there, I bleed my fluids, and I get dismantled – not you!" she sneered. "It seems the only one getting anything out of it is you!"
"Oh – not at all, Jennifer." From loose fingers, a stifled chink – baldy touched the little, glowing nub to his cigarette. "With your help, we retrieve many fragments of the infamous sword or even the sword itself, and along your travels, you find an effective treatment for your ailment."
"The treatment can be worse than the disease, Mr. Schwartz." His friend noted, wryly with a suspicious eye. "What is it?"
"As you are well aware, Jenny," the geezer breathed in a small drag, "there are two mystical weapons of Souls and Swords: the demonic blade, Soul Edge and the holy sword, Soul Calibur. For without one, there is little or no purpose for the other. Throughout history and the world, the two have been fiercely entangled in an endless waltz – wherever you may find one, its counterpart should not be far behind.
"Knowing this, I'm hoping if you take up on my offer to search for the wicked blade, you too may stumble upon its rival."
"So you get two swords for the price of one!" she folded her arms, crossly. "Big tap-dancing whoop! How the heck does this help me?"
A gnarled hand met the greasy brow, exasperatedly, gradually sliding to the beard of dirty gray where it simply fell back at his side.
"Soul of human yet such an inferior mind!" Schwartz moaned. "Maybe I should drop the hints and vagaries altogether."
"You can be so dense sometimes, XJ9!" the doctor's eyes rolled behind those thick bottles. "You should know by now that two opposites – in a physical, mathematical sense – will cancel each other out. By chance if you do stumble upon this Soul Calibur, perhaps whatever low-level radiation it has could overpower the high jacking of your ghost!"
He could not help but blink, disbelievingly; Jennifer too shot her old woman a funny look.
"Mom?" she said, seriously. "You're honestly going along with everything he's saying? Do have any idea how completely… foolish everything sounds?"
"Does it now?" her old woman shot back. "By chance, do you have a better explanation of what's happening to you? I know you better than everyone else here – even I'm not certain what's going on! Perhaps another glance at Mr. Schwartz's fragment will enlighten us some more—"
"Not necessary." Exclamation like a sigh, it came out of the speaker like static, "I don't know, either…."
"I don't like this either, Jenny," her mother said, "but it's the only lead we've at the moment. As a learned scientist, I should base only my decisions on irrefutable, empirical findings – but as your mother, I believe that we should wholeheartedly explore this route a little deeper—"
"Mom!" Jenny exclaimed again. "You can't be serious!"
"I've hardly been this serious before." The old woman nodded. "We'll never know till we give it a try. The legend most likely is doubtful at best, but I think this'll be a wonderful opportunity to see more of the world than you've experienced before, people, culture – the whole nine yards! Not saving it from alien invasion or a meteor, but experiencing it first hand as you gallivant the planet.
"Besides, I'll be damned before I let you stay home your entire summer break!"
"Aw – Mom…!"
"Does this mean that you'll take up on my offer, Dr. Wakeman?" Chrome-dome asked with a perk of interest on his greasy brow.
"With great reluctance!" the white quaff bounced, singly. "Since this virus is quickly eating away her ghost, Jenny has only a short time – quite possibly till the end of her ten-week break! And just how long will this little expedition of yours last, Mr. Schwartz?"
"Schwarzwind's search for Schtauffen's Legacy is currently in its 10th year, Fraülein Wakeman." The old man took in another drag. "But for the sake of Jennifer's involvement, let's round it out to her last week of her summer vacation."
"By then, her ghost will have become too corrupted to repair at this rate." The old woman nodded. "Sword or not, you must find and upload a serious anti-virus program before then!"
"I'm… still in the room, you know." Jenny noted, simply.
"Agreed." Indifferently, the baldy turned for his aid after a single nod. "Hans, get headquarters on the phone, immediately. I want S-and-T and R-and-D's best people on this project at once – priority one! Tell them to use what fragments we have as a starting point, and don't worry 'bout the long distance charges."
Little Hans coolly slipped his hand behind his left lapel.
"Jawohl." The aid replied. "Not your minutes, anyway."
"That's right!" The geezer nodded back.
"Mom, are you sure about this…?" Jenny asked, softly. "What if nothing happens – what if I don't find anything out there? What's going to happen to me then…?"
"The fluke processes of your ghost." Her old woman said. "Fluctuations of fear, anger, and hate – those and synonymous processes have shown in your logs to aggravate this strange virus. Your 'emotions', if you will: emotions beside themselves are beautiful things to feel and behold, Jennifer. But if you were to let them completely overwhelm you, they can easily destroy you – all the more so now. Don't let them best you. It's possibly the only thing hindering the virus' progression."
Long enough beside himself, he walked for his friend on the carpet, taking beside her a knee.
"But Mom…!" she sniffed. "What if it does take over – what if I come after you for no reason at all…? God – I couldn't bear my existence if something happened to you – any of you…!"
"It's okay, Jen." Cold biting his fingers, still he took her round palm into his own. "Dr. Wakeman, Tucker, me, and especially Sheldon – we're all here for you. If anything's on your mind, don't hesitate to come to any of us. You're not alone, Jenny. Remember that!"
Surprise had struck him not in the slightest when thicker digits returned his with a firm squeeze.
"Bradley…." Looking upon him with shaky, glistening eyes of black, his chest tingled warmly. "Thank you…."
"Anytime, Jen." He smiled back.
"You've twisted our arms, Mr. Schwartz." Slowly, the good doctor pushed back up to her pumps. "We're in. Now, when would you like Jenny to begin your little quest?"
"Good." Salt-and-pepper beard grinned back. "Certainly, the company doesn't want to interfere with your daughter's education. I propose she can immediately begin the first day of her summer vacation. If I am not mistaken of America's secondary schools, I believe that's this Saturday."
"Indeed." The old woman nodded. "A little short notice, but that should be sufficient time to prepare. Trotting across the globe only on her boots and tails, it'll take at least that long if she's going alone—"
"WHAT??" quickly, she sat up. "You mean I got to do this trek alone!?"
"It shouldn't be too much trouble if I top off your fuel tanks." The old woman replied. "You should be okay—"
"'Should' is the keyword of that sentence!" she frowned. "What if something shorts when I'm halfway across the ocean!? I can't swim!!"
"Don't look at me, dear Jennifer." The old man put out his empty palms, suckling on his smoldering chute. "Outside of the anti-virus research, Schwarzwind can provide you only with technical and logistical support. Everything else, you'll have to depend upon your team."
"Team…?" she blinked.
"What?" the man blinked back. "You want to do this by yourself? I should hope not! Instead, you'll have by Friday night to assemble a team fitting of this quest. Choose carefully – for when they're plugged into the company's files, you won't have a chance for a last minute swap."
"Plugged in…?" he asked. "What do you mean?"
"I told you that the company would compensate you, generously for your troubles, didn't I?" Sharp blue eyes took a lap inside weary sockets. "Do all American schools bestow their students such remedial knowledge or what? And the US has been the superpower for how long now…?"
"We've still the best universities this side of Oxford!" the good doctor retorted. "If not, would we be standing here?"
"True." The baldy shrugged, gently. "And for the sake of Herr Bradley, each of you should expect to be compensated, generously! As for taxes, you'll have to deal with the appropriate magistrates on your own time."
"I expected as much." Wakeman nodded.
"Remember, dear Jennifer," His gaze firm, Schwartz twisted his face for Jenny, "you've till Friday at midnight to have an able team and transport ready. If you need help with the latter, I can help you make a wise choice of a sea-worthy vessel."
"Sea worthy?" large, glassy eyes blinked. "No air travel at all?"
"You have your VTOL jets." The old man replied. "Why should I hear the board pitch a holy fit over aircraft when you can easily take care of short-distance flights yourself? Besides, there are simply places where even a small Cessna can't take off from – let alone, try to land."
"Oh…." She put a digit to her chin. "I guess you're right there."
"I am right." Hairy lips smirked, pompously. "Well, Wakemans and friend, that's all I've time for today. On behalf of Schwarzwind, Incorporated, I would like to personally extend gratitude for your help."
"Sorry if we don't exactly return the favor." Jenny frowned with a huff. "We'll talk after we see this little anti-virus software."
"So be it." The old man let out a sigh, fleeting wisps of gray so chokingly thick. "Come Herr Frederick, it's time we take our leave. If I'm not mistaken, I thought I saw a liquor store by the Days Inn. Do you think they carry Beck's?"
"Oh – you mean that Korean-owned shop?" The funny, old woman asked. "I'm certain they do. Carlsberg, Heineken, Guinness, or humble Coors, they've got it all."
"Ah… Guinness!" little Hans mused. "It's Irish for 'coffee', you know!"
"Aw – that's a misconception!" Dr. Wakeman stomped. "We Irish drink plenty!"
"Surprise, surprise…!" the imposing suit grinned. "Don't have to tell me twice."
"WHAT!?" the old woman exclaimed with a stomp. "I didn't mean like—!"
"Cool it, Hans." Suckled on yet another hot plume, the baldy did. "We've won their help. Don't push it or I'll simply lose that cat-o'-nine-tails somewhere in my home."
Standing at attention, the imposing suit chuckled no more.
"Jawohl, Herr Schwartz!" the strange Mr. Fredrick cleared his throat.
Yellow pumps angling pidgin-toe, over her thin lips Dr. Wakeman's hands clamped, tightly. A couple of hard snorts managed to squeeze out from between her stubby fingers.
"HA—!" the old woman grunted. "Who's the stereotype now…? Have you been a very bad boy – does little Hans need his spanking—?"
A sturdy bang, the doctor fell to the floor in writhing fit of giggles. Prominent cheeks just below the striking frames of those dark aviators were flush with a hot red. A sudden buzz a wisp against his ear, he cared not at all. His throat tight, Brad too felt a good laugh clawing its way up his throat.
A hasty glance… Jenny simply was at a loss, beside herself on the floor with a puzzled kink on her shiny brow.
"I don't get it." She sighed.
"Ha – ha…!" Down, off too soon he was from the sudden high. "Of course…."
---
The deserts vast, a silent, mournful expanse of colors bright and bleak were encroaching ever so slowly, yet not did she abandon the lonely rock. Utterly pointless, it was yet as equal if she suddenly removed herself from her seat. Nowhere to run, to hardly a ghost to turn, for her perhaps this was what ignoble destiny that fate had in store.
A process passing through her head, almost like music the buzzing drawl was from her slow beating wings. The land's dry, vacant howl, her tympanums had been gratefully relinquished as well as her dusty backside. Suddenly polyphony, she had solemnly let out a sigh.
Chasing the perpetual wind, all it was that Vexus could look forward to anymore.
Subjects former greedily devouring her horde of golden chips, arms integrally within suddenly discovered, so suddenly had she been deposed of her throne – the paneling and oil of her very being leading the charge! Exiled crudely to this vastness of certain death, she was certain she could find that accursed Jennifer at its very center!
"Lost my subjects," spidery digits sliced her view, cleanly, "I lost my throne, my best general, and… I lost my very own daughter. Again, what have I to exist for now…?"
Revenge, of course, hardly a concept so sweet or so satisfying she had yet come across. Believes, honestly does her little Vega that the ever-elusive "better way" could be accomplished without the firm presence of an iron fist. Last her tympanums irritably tingled from Vega Prime, word swept through the crumbling junta of a constitutional republic – even a pure democracy!
The planet might as well be in shambles, and that brat believes order's restorable through so-called peace!? The process hot, her paneling irately warbled. I wanted to raise a queen, and all I've in return is a meager politician!
"Hopes and ideals!" she spat. "She probably got it from her father! I ate his head the morning after for some reason – I know now!"
Dissolved into tiny sprockets and bolts, his damage had been realized. Screwed her, he would have again if she had not have stumbled upon a sort of escape pod abandoned to the cosmos. The Prime eating the boosters' exhaust, her former subjects had witnessed the last of their queen – for now…! At the moment, wise it was to collect her processes and a plan sure fire, in the very heart of a place forsaken where not a ghost would even process to glance. Then only was it wise to leave this disgusting mud ball for the remedial meat people once and for all.
If she could not, then pitiful Earth would have to make due. Treacherous Jennifer a grave threat, certainly, though certain she was that even Wakeman's infamous legacy could hold not a flicker against the pod's precious cargo—!
"Vexus!" it hissed, gravely.
Speak of Cluster Prime's little devil now…!Sand intermittently shifting out from behind, over her the devil imposingly towered as he strongly walked in front. Crown to sole, all hidden behind wraps of thick burlap, lost would he be to the thick gusts of the badlands if it were not for those peeking orbs of hot red.
Those eyes, they pierced her ghost straight through, unnerving even her… like those long before who happened to regrettably cross his path. Gaze intense of perpetual fire; it certainly could be the very end of her soon someday.
"Uh – yes, Nyx?" her tightening intake, she cleared with an abrupt cough.
"Interrupted a process of thought, did I?" his hot gaze narrowed. "How rude of me, I should've come back later. It's not like were in any such hurry, are we? We're simply stuck in the haggard middle of nowhere on this backwater planet – thanks to your brilliant piloting!"
She too replied with a narrowing gaze, a sneer stern tugging at her thin cheeks.
"Dare you speak to your queen this rudely!?" she growled. "That would've ensured your fate back on Cluster Prime! You honestly believe you'd still be alive if it weren't for me!? King wanted you dead – an abomination unfitting of the great empire, but I convinced him otherwise—!"
"Throwing me in the dungeons for as long as I can remember!?" his growl hoarse and empty. "Utter misery and pain as parents – do you have any idea what it's like to know your garbage since the day you were born!?"
"I figured you could be of use." Motors whirred as she pushed to her feet. Orb between her antennae half a foot above her crown yet it was at the level only of those eyes. "An android of your sophistication would've been terrible to decommission so soon."
"Think what you will, simple Vexus." The terror dismissed, indifferently. "Remember it's I who spared your pitiful empire's fragile existence countless times! Perhaps it is you who's of use to me!"
"Wearing daddy's pants so soon, are we—?"
Out the thick burlap, a shaft of black darted – her head snapped back as she could have sworn the thing touched her neck!
"Yes…!" he hissed, enjoyably. "This was the reason for my pathos of a childhood, isn't it? A classic threat, a power equal – greater than the monarchy of Cluster Prime! Admit it!"
At his bark, she cringed.
"The monarchy feared my power, didn't they…?" he said. "You fear my power – right now, at this very moment! Unlike your wild ambitions of grandeur, this is where the real power lies! The instant power over existence and nonexistence, life and death! Your second time at death's doorstep – I could've easily severed your main hydraulics back in the pod! Tell me, simple Vexus, who has absolute power now…?"
A small, blunt tap – her drop of an oil meal worked its way back up her intake.
"Answer me, damn you—" he barked, "ANSWER ME!!"
She swallowed hard
"Y-y-you…!"
A glance careful – that hot gaze softly broadening, her digits pressed against her neck for reassurance. The motion caught not on even the slightest divot; gladly, her rear paneling eased back onto the rock with a prompt sigh. Survivors of practical Hell few and far between yet she had processed enough to know that this demon was not to be trifled – to that, even the late Smytus could testify!
"Very good, simple Vexus." Gaze of fire narrowed yet again. "Continue to please me and I shall keep you close, but should you not – YOU'LL WATCH YOUR FUEL LINES SPILL FROM YOU AS THIS JUDAS DID WHEN HE BETRAYED HIS MASTER!!"
Eyelids blinking sensible process back into her head, a finger rubbed at her tympanum, gingerly.
"Am I clear…?" he asked, simply.
"Crystal—!"
A buzz droning past her tympanum, before her intently circled a single, streamlined grain of black and yellow stripes. The spy had returned, humbly, abdomen fat with juicy information. Wide, her lids parted with anticipation and she peaceably help up her open thin hand; a final, lopsided circle traced, it touched down upon her palm like a hovering craft.
A single red eye narrowed in a sort of incredulous kink, predictably; at the moment, Nyx could not dart against her a single spike – nothing at all!
"Oh – my baby's returned…!" Joy surged in all her wiring throughout. "This should brighten my day! Come little drone, tell me what news you've obtained from the flesh lover…!"
