(A/N: I'm bored to death, so I decided to write a short story. I don't expect this to be any longer than 2,000 or 3,000 words, maybe a little more or less. Hope you guys enjoy this.)
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Reinrassig was positively certain this was the absolute lowest point a Highbreed, or any being for the matter, could be at. Unfortunately, it was also the only honorable option.
As he walked across the sand of the desert planet known as Turrawuste, he tried to forget about the green abomination that was his arm. The reason he could never leave the planet.
Just mere weeks prior, he was on top of everything and above all else. He was Reinrassig III, seventh son of the noble Highbreed House of Deralla, direct descendant of the Pure Blooded High Order of Rarsect. Now, he was impure, a vermin, a mongrel. This was all due to Ben Tennyson.
Ben Tennyson was the one that clung to him and was accidentally transported to this backwater world along with him in the transformation he called 'Echo Echo'. It was his friend, the Osmosian vermin, that caused the accident in the first place. He was the one who contaminated him.
Then again, it was him who repaired his arm in the transformation he called 'Swampfire'. It was him who saved his life numerous times. He could have very easily chosen to not return him his arm; he could have very easily abandoned him once he knew the way to the teleporter pod; he could have very easily left him to die. Yet, he did not. He stayed with him until the teleporter was found.
When they eventually found it, he made the last second decision to stay. When he said this, he got the impression that Ben Tennyson wished for him to go back with him. Even if he wanted to, he would be executed for treachery and impurity. The only honorable choice for a Highbreed, especially one of high descent, is to exile themselves until they were subsumed by death. No matter the choice he made, he would die anyway.
At least in exile it would be an honorable death. At least, that was the plan.
He figured he would die within hours of Ben Tennyson's departure, only that wasn't the case. Now, several weeks later, he was still alive and very much in good health as far as he was concerned. And concerned he was.
If he was still alive even though he had consumed very little water and the heat was unbearably hot, then he truly was a mongrel. He was, at least in his mind, no longer a Highbreed.
He suspected this was due to his arm - his impure, green arm - that he was still living. In the time since it had been reattached it had spread up his forearm and only continued to spread, albeit much slower and he had a feeling it would stop sometime soon.
He knew that plants survive on two things: water and sunlight. He also knew that some plants could survive on little water and a lot of sunlight through the process of photosynthesis. Was that what he now was? A plant?
Not long after the accident, after fending off a Dravek, he used the tentacles in his chest to locate water. Ben Tennyson as the transformation he called 'Big Chill' found this disgusting and commented that he "had no idea Highbreeds were some kind of plants?" to which he responded with clear frustration.
Highbreeds were not "some kind of" anything. They were the one, true species, the only kind. And yet, he couldn't but to subconsciously agree with what he was saying.
Plants use their roots and tendrils to locate water, Highbreeds use them in the same way. Plants have trouble surviving in certain environments, Highbreeds have trouble surviving in intense heat and humidity. As much as he hated to even think of the possibility, he may just have to accept it one way or the other; plants and the Highbreed may just be one and the same.
His time on this desert world was full of thoughts and fending off the various creatures that lived in the sands. There were times where he would sit in the sand or on a rock and just think.
Turrawuste is not home to any sentient species, only non-sentient, with the only exception being himself. He found himself lonely. However, this would soon change.
One day, while drinking up some water, a high-pitched screech caused him to immediately stand and spread his wings. He looked around, but saw nothing. He pulled his tentacles back into his chest cavities and started to walk away.
Then, he heard it again, only this time it was nearly overshadowed by the roar of a Dravek. It sounded like it was close by too.
He climbed up to the top of a hill and got down when he saw the source of the sounds. The roar was indeed a Dravek, but the screech was not. The screech was coming from not one, but many small, blue, insect-like creatures it was attempting to devour.
He watched as whenever it tried to consume one of them all of them would attempt to freeze it or turn intangible to escape its maw. There were only a select few species in the entire universe with those abilities and their colors were a dead give away. They were Necrofriggians. The same species as the transformation 'Big Chill.'
He recalled how Ben Tennyson as 'Big Chill' attempted to cool him off when the heat caused him severe dehydration. He quickly pushed away the efforts, despite that it actually felt a little good on his overheating body, as much as he hated to admit it.
He watched with keen amusement as the dangerous creature continuously missed its target in an almost comical way. That is until it was finally able to catch one of them, much to the horror of its siblings.
The remaining younglings tried desperately to save their doomed sibling, but it would not open its mouth. Its constant moving made it difficult for them to use their abilities to save it, likewise it was unable to escape.
He stood up and began to walk away, intending on leaving them to fend for themselves. However, a scream of distress from the young Necrofriggians caused him to stop in his tracks. The scream was more prolonged than the screech and was full of fear as if to say to anyone who was listening, "Help!"
He debated if he should help them. How would it benefit him if he did? It would exterminate more vermin infesting an otherwise beautiful universe. If he did not? Necrofriggians are not known to be a very social race with their key instincts being to survive and reproduce, however, he could tell they genuinely cared for their sibling and were doing all they could to save it.
He looked back, then forward. Back, then forward; back, then forward. This pattern was repeated until he finally made his decision.
He ran towards the Dravek and fired claw darts at it, trying to steer it away from the younglings. He was able to get its attention and it decided to go after a much bigger prey than them.
They in turn used this opportunity to go intangible and freeze it on the inside. He fired claw darts at each frozen patch he spotted. It roared in pain and fell to the sandy ground, the impact caused something akin to a miniature sandstorm.
Ice crystals began to form on the outside of the dead beast in the area of its esophagus from within. He shot a few claw darts at the frozen area and it shattered, the captured youngling flew out and rejoined its family.
Now that they were out of harm's way it gave him the opportunity to get a good view of them. They were young, but they were not in the larvae stage of development, they were not in the adolescent stage yet either. Their limbs were humanoid in appearance, as well as their facial structures, though their bodies were still insectoid. He figured they might be within about a month or so of reaching the adolescent stage. There were fourteen in all, all ranging in size.
The odd thing that struck him odd though was that all of them had vivid green eyes. He had seen Necrofriggians before, both from Kylmyys and Mykdl'dy, and none have green eyes.
Then, he remembered something, Ben Tennyson's 'Big Chill' has green eyes! Does... does that mean these are the offspring of Ben Tennyson?
He tried to keep an open mind when thinking about this. There was always the possibility of a genetic mutation, but if that was the case, then how is it that all fourteen would have green eyes? What are the chances? Very slim.
Necrofriggians reproduce asexually, so there was the chance that they inherited green eyes because they had no other choice. Then again, there was always the possibility of the grandparent, since some traits skip a generation or two.
Still, what are the chances? Quite literally, one in a trillion.
Survival of the fittest would dictate that green eyes would not help them survive for very long on Kylmyys or Mykdl'dy with their vivid eyes sticking out like sore thumbs. Though, he would not be surprised if they found a way to survive.
If these truly were the offspring of Ben Tennyson, they would find a way. If his time with him had taught him anything, it's that he can find a way, against all odds.
With that sobering thought in mind, he took his leave. He could have made the decision to eradicate them, but he decided to mind his own business and walk away.
"Come back!" a high-pitched yet slightly raspy voice called out to him.
He stopped and looked back at the younglings, they appeared to be following him. "Do not follow me, insects," he growled.
They looked at him oddly and didn't back off. One of them, the largest and presumed leader, tilted its head slightly to the side and came closer to him.
"You saved us," it spoke. "Thank you."
To say that he was surprised by how clearly it spoke such a complicated language was an understatement. Although it was a widely diverse language it was also very difficult to learn. He learned the basics when he was young, but he still struggled with it at times, even as an adolescent himself.
Not to mention that they were quite young, they couldn't have been more than two months old. How they understood and spoke such a language at this young age was a total mystery.
The only response he could give them was, "It was in my own interest to stop that creature from harming any of you." He then let something slip about a person they were unaware of, "I saved your parent, Ben-Ben Tennyson, as well."
"Who is Ben-Ben Tennyson?" another asked curiously.
"He is your parent," he answered.
"Our parent looks like us," it told him, almost as an argument.
"Do you remember your parent?" he asked, despite already knowing the answer.
"A little," one replied. "We hope to meet them on Kylmyys once we mature."
"I remember a voice," the smallest spoke. "I remember them saying, 'Go on. Fly.'"
"They are the only one of us to hear their voice," the largest told him.
"I see," he uttered, disinterest now growing. He turned around, "I believe it is time for me to take my leave."
He was about to leave, but they flew in front of him and held him back by pushing on his chest, much to his disgust and annoyance. He also couldn't help but to be impressed by their strength, they may be small, but they're certainly strong.
He tore them off his chest and threw them to the side, "Do not touch me, insects!" He walked away as they fluttered in place, hurt and in disbelief.
Sometime later, he looked behind him to see if they were following them. They were not. He was satisfied that they were not following him, but he also couldn't help but to be a little disappointed.
Suddenly, something burst out of the sand and held him down from behind. He moved his long arms behind him and threw whoever or whatever it was off of his back.
He stood up and saw that his attacker was yet another creature found on this planet. Its skin was the color of smoke and eyes as black as the night sky with red circles clearly seen around them. Its teeth were razor sharp with saliva dripping out of its maw. It had claws equally as sharp, along with thin, black spines along its back. Its body was quite thin, almost skin and bone.
He recognized it as a Chupasandre, a semi-bipedal carnivorous species that lives underground and only surfaces to kill and to drink the blood of its catch. Their only instincts are to kill and reproduce. They are as common as Draveks on this planet, but usually do not surface when they attack.
It scratched him with its claws across his chest. Fortunately, Highbreeds have thick skin, in some areas at least. The scratch started to sting and burn a little, hopefully, it was not a sign of venom poisoning.
He tried to shoot claw darts at it, but it held his wrists, making a shot impossible. There wasn't much he could do now at this point. His claw darts are his best defense against a creature with this kind of strength. If he were to open his chest cavity it would give it the opportunity it needed to kill him faster.
It unhinged its jaw, much akin to a snake, and its teeth grew longer and sharper, saliva dripped out of its mouth in long ropes. It lowered its head and growled in a bloodthirsty and almost taunting manner. It was as if it was saying, "You are doomed. You will die with my teeth in your neck."
Just as he felt the tip of one of its fangs lightly sink into his skin, it suddenly shot up and its body went rigid. He moved his head to the side slightly to see what was going on and saw chunks of ice forming on its back.
He could see small, dark blue and black creatures above. A thin field of an icy mist surrounded them. He immediately knew what they were.
It shrieked in pain and shivered at the sudden bitter coldness on its back. It released one of his wrists and attempted to get the ice off its body, but could not reach. This gave him the opportunity to shoot his claw darts at it, sending it off of him and putting it at the mercy of the young Necrofriggians.
It tried to fend off the younglings, but they were too much for it to handle, it had no other choice but to retreat into the sand. As soon as it was gone, they went to check on him to see if he was alright.
"Are you alright?" the largest asked.
"It scratched me," he replied, rubbing his chest. "It stings a little."
They looked at the said injury he was referring to. There were four narrow lacerations going across the upper portion of his chest. It was deep enough to pierce his skin, but not enough to draw blood. The marks were bordered by deep purple abrasions, too dark to be bruises.
He looked at it using the eyes on his chest, luckily none of them were injured, he too saw the abrasions and didn't believe they were simply bruises. Though he was confident that it wouldn't cause any major problems, he had a suspicion that it could very well have been poisoned with venom.
The scratch was only for a split second, how much damage could it really cause? He got his answer when it started to burn more than it did earlier. It was so painful for him it caused him to shout in pain.
In response to his pain, they made the decision to use their ice breath to help the injury. It was gentle enough to not start freezing the tender area, it was almost like being back on Augstaka.
Augstaka… the home he could never return to. The home that was such a sad and depressing place to have been raised. The home of which he was corrupted with the ideas of "the one true race," along with millions of others.
The irritation the claw marks caused eventually relaxed thanks to their cooling breath. He allowed them to continue using their icy abilities to cool him afterwards for a little longer.
This continued until he told them to stop, "Desist. It is better."
"We suppose we should be on our way," the largest told him.
Under normal circumstances he would be perfectly fine with this, they were even, he saved them and they saved him. So, why did he feel this payback wasn't enough?
Perhaps he felt it wasn't complete. After all, they did more than save him, they healed him as well. It was exactly what Ben Tennyson had done, almost perfectly so.
They had asked about him, but he did not tell them much about him. They deserved to know, to learn more about their heritage. It was the least he could do after all they have done.
"Wait," he spoke just as they were about to fly away. "I will tell you of your parent, Ben-Ben Tennyson."
"You will?" one asked.
He nodded, "It is the least I can do."
He sat on a rock and they gathered around him as he told them stories about 'Ben-Ben Tennyson'. He told them how he saved his life numerous times, even though it risked his own. He told them how he returned his arm and how it allowed him to survive on this planet. They listened to his stories with fascination and wondered if they could ever become like their parent.
They left when he was finished with his stories of the wonderful person they have come to understand as their parent. He watched as they flew away and disappeared as they went beyond the starry night sky.
Even he wasn't entirely sure why he did what he did, but it made him... happy. The only time he had ever experienced such happiness was when he was a small child on his first off-world trip with his family. That experience did not end well, perhaps this was the reason for his reluctance to open up to anyone.
His parent immediately had him thoroughly sterilized the second they returned home. Both physically and psychologically.
For so long the Highbreed have believed themselves to be superior due to their genetic purity and that any change to that purity would bring about the end of them forever. Perhaps, it was time for a change to that generations long belief.
Though he was certain most Highbreed would push him away and demand him to be executed for sullying their purity, he felt they needed to see the error of their ways, as much as it pained him. With some hesitance, he went off in search of the teleporter pod.
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(A/N: This turned out to be a little longer than expected, but it all turned out in the end. So, what do you think? Good? Bad? I would really love to hear your thoughts about this.
The Chupasandre is obviously inspired by the Chupacabra of American and Latin America folklore. "Chupasandre" roughly translates to "blood-sucker" in Spanish.
I loved Big Chill's offspring when I first saw them and I'm disappointed we only saw them once. Reinrassig is a very underused and underrated character and I think this shows his softer side.)