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𝟚𝟚𝟘𝟘 𝔻𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕤 𝔽𝕒𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕥
Chapter three: ђ๏ɭɭץ ɭє๏ภђคг๔Շ
He excused himself to the restroom, unable to control the bounce in his leg. Holly ordered another appetizer from her seat at the bar. He peeked a glance at her before entering the facilities and she looked into his eyes, stole a swallow from his Old Fashioned, and laughed at him.
The bathrooms within the Colony on Aegis VII were pristine. Nearly a blinding white, being in a stark contrast to the ash, smoke, and wood from the bar. There were three stalls facing the sinks, no urinals.
Pan gripped one of the sinks and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was grinning. Grinning like a madman that had just robbed a bank free of a scratch. Why, if he himself hadn't known better, he'd believe he just had.
What a woman!
He leaned onto the balls of his feet, eyes widening. A giddy laugh erupted out of him. He felt like a child again! And had he not been gripping the sink at that very moment, he might have floated away.
The faucet squeaked. Water rushed from the spigot and Pan cupped his hands beneath the stream, collected a pool, and splashed his face. He gasped and exhaled with force. Another splash to his face. He massaged his cheeks, rubbed his eyes, and combed his fingers up and over his head.
He's a fine looking gentleman. A red hot blooded German with sharp features, not a hair on his head, and sterling blue eyes. Yet there's a softness to him that he quite likes about himself. Perhaps it's in the way he smiles, or how all the acute edges of his face come down to a smooth jawline. Nevertheless! Pan Darsteller, the one and only, mind you, is a fine sight for sore eyes.
As is the young lady waiting for him at the bar.
Leaning closer to the mirror, Pan scrubbed his teeth with his tongue. He squeaked a finger against a few of them, rubbed his gums, and topped himself off by way of cleaning out his tear ducts.
Someone joined him in the restroom and slid into the stall to his back. He paid them no mind, continuing to groom himself and splash his face with water. They'd find themselves alone soon enough.
Pan blew out an exhale. He grabbed himself by his lapels and gave them a tug. He stood himself up straight. Six foot five and dressed in his navy blue CEC uniform, he convinced himself that once again, he is one handsome devil! A ravishing example of raw sex appeal! A magician of love!
"Pull yourself together, Comrade," He cleared his throat. "You are a fine-looking fellow, quite the charming bastard, and a glorious prize to be won!"
The door to the stall behind him fell open.
And Pan's world dropped to his feet.
The bathrooms within the Colony were pristine. Their lights a blinding white.
The wisps of Holly's hair glowed like fire under them.
He watched her through the mirror, frozen in place.
Her overalls were around her ankles, exposing her plump thighs. She had on nothing more than her form fitted blouse, a thin pair of black underwear, and a smile. She lifted a foot out of her overalls and pointed her leg at him. When she lowered her foot, she did so by caressing the calf muscle of her opposite leg.
"You spent all that time cooped up at a maximum security facility for men. Makes me wonder," She rested her chin on her hand. "When's the last time someone took care of you?"
...He hasn't been with a woman since he paid for an escort back on Earth. And that was so, so long ago.
Warmth flooded his stomach. Desire began to coil a tightness at the root of his spine.
Pan turned his head to check the latch on the door leading back into the bar.
"It's locked."
A jolt of excitement hit him between the thighs, by the way she purred that just now. With an air of cockiness. Sickeningly sweet. A shudder warmed his blood once again, and Pan spun around, grinned, then stepped into the stall with Holly.
She touched his knee. Swept her hand up his pants until she found his belt. He didn't care to hide the hopeful gasp it drew from him, or how he moved closer.
The high on his mind was too delicious of a haze. Yet he was hyper aware of everything.
Absent the pollution of the bar, he could smell the halo of shampoo veiling her. Floral. Yet fruity. Like a peach tree blossoming with the occasional rose. The oil from her overalls was present, as well. Gritty. And reminded him of wet earth.
There's baby fat on her hips, pinched over the straps of her underwear. Her stomach was delightfully pudgy, like a petite pillow stuffed under her blouse. He wanted nothing more than to pinch, grab, and squeeze at it while taking her from behind.
He watched her fiddle with his belt, erection straining against his pants.
"Is this customary for you?" He asked, breathless. "To secure yourself a gentleman, woo him, and then have as you will with him?"
She looked up at his face, clearly unimpressed.
"Ya know, if I didn't know any better? I might just think you were insulting me."
He touched her face. Cupped her cheek and swallowed thickly. "Nein, Mademoiselle. I meant not an ounce of disrespect. I find your brazen spirit to be remarkably seductive. And most captivating."
The mistrust within her eyes had been much like molten rock. It dropped a pit into his stomach. And made him feel quite small. He was uncertain if she'd cool or burn him alive.
She smirked and breathed a scoff. The pit in his stomach grew to a chasm.
He made ready to dance in the flames, and bit back a wince. Emptiness, an ache all too familiar to him by now, settled like sediment in his loins.
But then Holly smiled in only the way a woman can.
"I'm not gonna lie to you. I've tried my luck with a few different guys," She unzipped his pants. Allowed for them to drop around his ankles. His heart jumped with the clank of his belt against the tile. "But you're the first to get this far."
Time slowed.
The music buzzing from the bar switched tracks. Someone started singing karaoke. Their voice was faint and drowned out by the heavy machinery that passed by.
"How far," Pan swallowed the stone lodged into his throat. " How far might I be allowed to take you?"
Her eyelids drooped.
"As far as you can take me."
Her hand slid up the cloth around his erection in gentle grips. Mouth following her palm, she sprinkled kisses up his shaft. He watched her size him up, swollen with pride at the way she pursed her lips while observing how the head of his cock peeked out generously past the waistband of his boxers.
She hummed to herself, fought back an uncertain smile, and shook her head. A blush dusted her cheeks. Then she looked up to Pan's face and he gave her a waggle of his eyebrows. It earned him a laugh.
Fingers hooked under his waistband, she peeled his boxers down. Agonizingly slow. She shimmied them to his knees, making a point to ignore his twitching cock. As a result of the hand still touching her face, he began to stroke her cheek, fingers hopeful in the way they tried to encourage her closer.
And closer she did come. He chewed on his cheek and she planted a warm kiss to his skin, where the crease of his thigh met his groin. She licked. Nibbled. And sucked pink swells into all the places but the one that mattered.
His eyes fluttered shut. He openly moaned and sifted a hand into her hair. And oh, it truly took herculean effort to not ball up a fist full of her curls and tug her lips where they belonged.
She breathed in his sexual musk and hummed. Pressing a hand against his upper thigh, she kissed the patch of skin curved between her forefinger and thumb.
"Tell me somethin'. Do you always take this good care of yourself," She licked a stripe up his cock. "Or was all this for me?"
A smile plastered itself across his face. He chuckled and warmth flooded his cheeks.
It should be known that he does, in fact, always take good care of himself.
And yet, haha, mmm, attention to detail amid his former shower had been given special consideration.
...Those pats of aftershave to his balls happened to burn something fierce.
"Surely you won't blame a gentleman for having high hopes," He gripped her hair, the urge no longer one he could deny. A breathy moan left Holly in response, and she leaned into his grasp. He took hold of his cock and gave himself a squeeze that pushed out a drop of pre cum.
"Go on, meine geliebte," He released her hair, swept it back, and took hold of it into a ponytail. "Have a taste.."
Holly bit her lip. A soft mmm, one he took for a whimper of desire, purred from her chest. She mindlessly brought her thighs together, sat up straighter, and looked up to his face with a needy yet coy smile.
He gazed down at her and felt his stomach somersault.
Did the idea of pleasuring him excite her, truly?
The thought made him delightfully dizzy, and compelled his hand to give her hair a firm tug.
Her eyelids fluttered shut and she curled her tongue out for him, tilting her head back. Lining himself up with her mouth, he stole a quick peek down into her throat. A jolt of excitement zipped through him, one that ended with a punch to his cock.
It looked like a heart, the frame of her throat.
Pan pressed the head of his cock against Holly's tongue and groaned. It was so very warm. Wet. And slippery soft. For a time, she massaged her tongue against him, softly licking and dipping the point of her tongue into his slit.
He slid his other hand into her hair. They exchanged a glance, and he gifted her with quite the needy stare. She hummed a moan and kissed the tip of his cock. Rather than pull away, she molded her mouth around him, keeping the head of his cock warm between the soft pillows of her lips.
She looked downright sinful like that, with his cock upon her lips. Like an Angel licking up the barrel of a gun.
He pressed past that lovely ring of her lips and slid into her mouth. His knees nearly buckled at the perfect heat she presented, and his hips quickly got to work.
She followed his thrusts with the bob of her head. Consumed with her task, her eyes fell shut and she breathed through her nose. Pan released the ponytail he had made of her hair and palmed the top of Holly's head with both hands to hold her steady. His fingers dug into her scalp. The way her tongue and bottom lip rubbed against him was simply intoxicating. She had him convinced that he could stay like this for hours, idly swaying his hips and soaking in this gentle pleasure.
Her mouth was paradise.
He had to take her faster, however. She was simply too inviting. Holly hollowed her cheeks and drool sputtered from her lips, his hips demanding more from her after each thrust.
Sooner than he'd like, his breathing labored as every stroke of his cock filled her mouth. He trembled and leaned onto the balls of his feet, his hips lurching forward. Holly's chest heaved with a wet gag and he dipped into her throat.
Both of her hands jumped to his cock, the half that had yet to experience the pleasure of her mouth. She pulled off of him with a gasp, desperate for air, drool dangling down her chin. Pan couldn't hide his own gasp at losing his connection to her mouth. He missed it instantly, cock twitching and dying to get back inside.
But she didn't leave him wanting. He tucked his chin down with a hard breath that edged into a moan. She picked up to stroking him with both of her hands, each one slick with saliva and twisting in opposite directions while pumping up and down.
His eyes screwed shut and he saw white behind them. That delicious, tight pressure coiled at the root of his spine wound tighter. It became all consuming. Nothing else mattered. He existed purely in her hands and the pleasure they were giving him.
"You look like you wanna cum so fuckin' bad," Holly purred. "Are you close?"
He nodded and moaned, open and baritone. Holly bit her lip, giggled as if she had been keeping a secret from him, and said, "You've got no idea. I'm about to make you feel so good."
His fingers spread through her hair, wrists trembling. He pushed her curls back and away from her face, voice weighted by a robust staccato.
"C-Close your eyes, Fräulein—"
She smiled, did as told, and curled her tongue out for him. Once again he stole a glance down into her heart shaped throat. At which point the tightness in his stomach seared blindingly hot. Urgency swept over him and he balled up her hair into two fist fulls.
He grit his teeth. Sweat dripped off the back of his thighs. He trembled, and everything about him was tense and desperate. The impossibly taut coil of his climax was ready to spring loose when Holly engulfed him within the warmth of her mouth. His jaw slacked and he cried out, his climax taking him by surprise, rushing a jet stream of pleasure up his spine. She buried him in her throat, pushing him past her gag reflex, and he took to the tips of his toes to aid the angle.
He came in heavy spurts, white ropes filling her throat. She swallowed around him, gagged, and he pushed his cock down deeper. Her body retched with protest and she grabbed at his thighs. She tried to pull away and he begged, "L-Liebling! Stay d-down, Fräulein, please stay down!"
It was as if the pleasure was never going to end. He jolted forward and mashed his cock flush with her lips, relishing the way her throat fit him snug like a glove. It was perfect. Smooth, slippery, and pulsing with warmth. And oh so maddeningly tight, with every gag trying desperately to squeeze him out.
But oh, he couldn't have that. Not just yet.
Keeping one hand glued to her hair, the other he used to steady himself by way of cementing it to the bathroom wall behind her. Riding out what remained of his release, he worked his hips, gifting her throat with the remainder of her hard earned prize before slipping out of her mouth.
Pan blew out a winded breath. Head still full of stars, he felt a bead of sweat roll down his nose. He wiggled his hand free from Holly's hair and flicked it away. Meanwhile, below him, Holly gasped and coughed. She was holding her chest. And leaning against the back of the toilet. From the chin down, she glistened with saliva and white bubbled spit. Her black eyeliner and mascara melted in streaks down her cheeks.
He glanced down at her and watched as she recovered. Watched how she struggled to breathe, how red her face had become, and how labor ridden the breaths she did manage to take for herself were.
Guilt gnawed a hole into his heart, and he chewed at his cheek.
He had been entirely too rough with her. And allowed for his selfish excitement to make a mess of her.
Something quite quickly within him grew insecure. He frowned and had to look away from her, the guilt continuing to hollow out his chest. He stared at the floor. It felt like he had stolen something from her, after she had so freely given to him.
There had been a time in his life where he didn't see a woman for ten years. This had been commonplace on Gonvistea, mind you. He and his colleagues were a miserable lot of lonely bastards. Day in and day out, the only company they held were the stink of men, the steel grates of the penitentiary, and the way they found their hands at night.
A health and welfare attendant from Earth Gov came to Gonvistea one day. Unannounced. Yet word spread of the click clack of her heels and the sway in her hips. Of her white coat and pencil skirt. Rumor had it that her hair was straight. And so black it shone a midnight blue under the light. Others spoke of a blonde and how she smelled of honeysuckle. A smaller majority claimed her hair was red like fire and that she must have walked out of a sun.
At that time in his life, he would have sold his very soul to see her.
And oh, he did try. Rest assured. Yet not one of his associates would swap schedules with him.
He dreamed of her, however. Of this fictitious woman that may have only been a ruse hatched by the inmates.
She was soft amidst the cruel reality of Gonvistea's cement walls. And she loved him within the comfort of his mind.
Pan dared to steal a glance back at Holly. And his heart might as well have abandoned him.
...So this is how he chose to treat a woman.
He frowned harder. And closed his eyes before they could well up.
"H-Hey, why do you look so sad?" Holly wheezed. A husky laugh rasped out of her.
"I thought," She stopped to catch her breath. "I thought I did pretty good."
He blinked his eyes open. And gazed down at her.
She had cleaned the slick from her chin, and was breathing easier. The flush in her face had calmed. Her curly hair was everywhere, and looked as if a tornado had passed through it.
She peered up at him and smiled, softly. Almost knowingly.
He chose to speak before she could, reaching a hand down to caress her cheek.
"Please forgive my carelessness, meine dame. It was not my intention to take advantage of you so mercilessly. It had just been so very long, that I..."
He trailed off. Frowned. And looked away.
Holly giggled in response.
"Hey. Don't be like that. I mean, if I had actually wanted you to stop? I could've just bit your dick off."
He allowed himself to chuckle. "Ah. Ja, that is most certainly true. However, it should be worth noting that I'm quite thankful that such an act didn't come to pass."
They shared a light hearted laugh. Pan peeked back at Holly and blushed. He continued to cup her cheek, and just because he couldn't deny the temptation, he gave her a tender squeeze. She smiled and nuzzled into him.
The seconds stretched. Pin pricks of warmth overwhelmed his heart.
Lifting a leg and reaching a foot towards him, Holly wiggled her toes against his knee.
"...Was it really that good?"
His blush deepened.
He wanted to tell her that she was the physical manifestation of ecstasy. That nothing he's ever experienced could hold a candle to the richness of her velvety throat. Or her charm and company.
There was much he could say.
He licked his lips, and gazed longingly down towards the black strip of fabric hugging her plump looking pussy. It seemed so very inviting, what with the way her slit and full lips were so perfectly outlined.
A pool of warmth dropped into his stomach. Jutting out from between his thighs, his cock grew to a stiff head.
There was much he could say.
Yet more existed that he yearned to do.
He lifted Holly's chin up and gazed down at her, eyelids heavy.
"Allow me to show you."
Pan sank to his knees. He massaged a hand up Holly's calf and inched higher. Holly tensed at his touch, so he began peppering worshipful kisses to one of her thighs, taking his time to shower her with affection.
His eyelids fluttered upon smelling the bouquet of garden bath soaps veiling her skin. He inhaled deeply and became light headed. Roses, cream, and whipped honey. He gave her thigh an open mouth kiss. And another one. And another.
He couldn't help himself, she was just so very buttery soft. And smoother than silk.
He pulled away, slipped a hand between her legs, and gently encouraged them apart. Biting back a moan, he chewed at his cheek and admired her thighs, plush with supple fat, and how all of her skin was dusted with sprinklings of cinnamon freckles.
It was as if she were a map of the universe masquerading as a woman. Stars disguised as freckles decorated her legs, arms, beautiful face, and other places he hoped she might allow him to kiss, touch, and see for himself.
"Look, I, um," Holly gulped. She tried to shimmy away from the edge of the toilet seat, but Pan glued his hands to her hips, and asked with an affectionate squeeze for her to stay.
He continued to kiss her thighs. Upon notice of a birthmark amidst all her freckles, he gave it a kiss and lingered. Then he continued to work his lips upwards.
"You uh, don't gotta do that. It's okay," She tried to wiggle away again. Pan produced an obstinate grunt and kneaded the chubby baby fat on her hips.
"No really, I'm fine. I mean, um, I'm more of a giver than a receiver. So you don't have to do this, really, I-I.."
He ignored her protesting, and continued to kiss up her thighs.
"Ya know, I bet the stuff I ordered is gettin' cold? And, and, I-I, it's okay, really. I don't like it all that much?"
More kisses.
"It just takes me a while to get there. And I don't wanna waste your time, so really, it's okay— Ohhhh. Oh, okay, yeah. That's, mmm. That's really nice— Oh, fuuuck—"
Holly's head fell back. She palmed the top of Pan's head, fingers spread over his scalp. Having licked a lazy line up the fabric hugging her pussy, Pan found her clit poking out between her lips, and rubbed his tongue against it.
Holly's hand slid to the back of his head. She held him in the crook of her arm, got as close to him as possible without slipping off of the toilet seat, and arched her back. Humming a moan, Pan fit his mouth over her pussy and kissed it deeply. Openly. And without an ounce of restraint. He licked slow stripe after slow stripe up her slit, and each time he made it to the top, he made certain to litter her clit and the surrounding area in kisses.
Slipping a finger beneath her underwear, he peeled the scrap of fabric to the side, and tucked it between one of her plump lips and thigh. A haze swept over him as he gazed upon her.
Smooth. Not a hair in sight. And he found it positively delightful that she had freckles down here as well.
Sitting himself up a bit to get a better view, he placed a thumb on either side of her lips, and spread them apart.
A pang of desire punched his cock. Everything was so flushed and pink and glistening. Clear strings connected her lips, so he squished them together just so he could see her juices dribble forward.
He glanced up to Holly and squished her pussy lips together once again. They squelched and she looked away, a timid smile accompanying her blush.
"Liebling," Pan teased. "Does all of this happen to be for me?"
The tram pulls up to the station on the bridge and all the lights flicker out. Something groans from another room. It's a moist and diseased sound, like an elephant with maggots in its belly.
Pan finds the tram's emergency repair kit under a seat, retrieves a flashlight, and clicks it on. He's the first to step outside, sweeping the flashlight from side to side.
A fist squeezes his heart.
Holly peeks out from around his back. He hears her take a step back.
It's as if someone hosed the station down with blood. It's smeared up the walls in brush strokes. Pouring over the floor like an oil spill. There's a body to the left, slumped forward, and absent their legs. A few paces ahead, another corpse, with an arm outstretched and trying to crawl towards something they failed to reach.
Pan turns to face Holly and holds a finger up to his helmet, over his mouth. Holly nods and he hands her the flashlight. He gestures for her to stay behind him, but to keep the light pointed ahead. She follows his instruction.
Aiming his wrist at the station lobby, he points his kinesis module at one of the bars of the window frames and pulls it towards him. The air bends around it, rippling and displaced. His other hand finds his gun and he grips the handle.
Pan steadies his breath.
Something drips from far away.
He launches the bar and it crashes into the wall just before the hallway to the bridge. Clamoring to the floor, the clink echoes through the station.
It rolls to a stop.
A minute goes by of Pan gripping his gun before Holly whispers, "T-The shuttles. We should head to the shuttles."
Pan nods his head. They step back inside the tram, secure the doors, and then he pulls up a map of the Ishimura on his wrist display. Red exclamation points pop up all over the ship, clustered together in groups of five or more from the stern to the bow.
He taps one and is given the error code: 662-4E. After expanding the error code, his stomach drops, like a skydiver with a faulty parachute and no reserve. He checks all the error messages along the belly of the Ishimura and then he checks them again.
Pan takes a seat and dismisses his wrist display.
"Wir sind dem Sterben überlassen worden," Pan palms the face of his helmet and looks at the floor. "The shuttles. They've been jettisoned."
"...What?"
"The shuttles. They have been jettisoned. Not one remains."
"That ain't possible," The flashlight rattles in Holly's hand from the shake of her wrist. "No. There's just no way. There's no way everyone got there before us."
Pan's helmet disengages and Holly's follows suit.
He holds a hand over his mouth and exhales. "They were empty of passengers."
"No. Nonono, no, you need to check again. Check it again."
Pan looks up at Holly's face. They stare at each other until Pan shakes his head.
Holly wobbles backwards and she takes her seat across from Pan.
The seconds stretch.
"We're gonna die. Aren't we."
Pan swallows, thickly. He studies Holly.
She's ghostly pale, the freckles on her skin like sun spots. Her breathing is staggered. And her eyes are wide. Alert yet unfocused. Pointed up at the ceiling, the halo from the flashlight bounces with Holly's trembling.
Pan taps his wrist display and summons the holographic map of the Ishimura once again. He selects the Bridge, zooms in, and rotates a pocket room beneath the captain's deck into view. It's one of the few areas that's green on the ship, with the rest either yellow and in need of assistance, red and in need of immediate attention, or greyed out and offline.
He checks the status of each of the six escape pods before dismissing the display.
Escape pod N01: Offline: Please be advised. See pod for repairs.
Escape pod O02: Offline: Please be advised. See pod for repairs.
Escape pod H03: Online
Escape pod O04: Offline: Please be advised. See pod for repairs.
Escape pod P05: Online
Escape pod E06: [Launched]
Nails scratching against glass tickle his ears. Pan looks out the cockpit of the tram and there's a naked man perched on the windshield grinning at him. There's welts on his wrists and ankles. And a serial bar on his forearm.
Pan's eyes widen.
The naked man grins and stares.
Holly points the flashlight at the windshield and the naked man burns to ash through the light.
"You saw somethin' just now, didn't you,'' Holly points the flashlight at the ground. "Was it one of them?"
Pan focuses on Holly, his heart drumming at his ears. He shakes his head.
"What was it? What did you see?"
"You will believe me mad. I saw an inmate, Winterberry. I saw an inmate just now. One I signed the execution orders for many moons ago."
Holly looks around the tram before returning to Pan.
"We need to get out of here. Tell me there's a way out of here."
Pan sits himself up straight with the fill of his lungs. "There exists a route beneath the bridge, through a maze of maintenance shafts. I have been through them only twice before. They're cramped. And terribly dark. When we reach the repair bay for the elevator, we must clear the drop to continue forward. It is but a short distance to the command deck's escape pods after that."
"...That's through all of that out there."
Pan hums with acknowledgement.
"What about any of the maintenance shuttles?"
"There very well may be a straggler elsewhere amidst the ship. Though I do not wish to gamble our odds of survival. Should we choose to abandon this opportunity for another, we may squander both in transit."
Holly's eyes are pleading. "There's so much blood out there."
"We must move swiftly. Others will be compelled to arrive soon," Pan pushes himself up out of his seat. He steps over to Holly, pets her face with one hand, and strokes her hair with the other. "All will be well before long, meine geliebte Stechpalme. You will see. At the very moment we reach the nearest star gate, I shall reserve us seats to Gliese. Where this will be but a distant memory. You will see."
Hot tears roll down her cheeks, one right after the other. He does what he can to comfort her.
"Shhh. Be strong, Fräulein. Come. We must leave."
"I-I know it's probably too early for this, but, I need you to know, in case somethin' happens," She buries her face in his hand, seething. "I love you. I love you so much."
Tears sting his eyes. The butterflies swarming his heart shrivel and drop to his stomach.
Taking himself down to a knee, and being mindful of his suit, he tucks Holly into the hollow of his throat. He strokes her hair. And like a beast clawing its way up from Hell, an overwhelming rush of determination surges through his blood.
"Ich liebe dich, mein Einziger. How I love you too. More than a man has a right to so desperately love a woman," Pan holds Holly tighter. Pressing his face into her hair, he inhales deeply before making his promise. "I shall protect you. Until I draw my last breath."
They both rise, arms around each other. Pan welds his lips to Holly's as if it's the last time he's ever going to have the chance to kiss her. Holly kisses him back with equal fervor. They activate their helmets, step out of the tram, and head for the entrance to the maintenance shafts below the Bridge.
Pan walks not but a footstep behind Holly, his hand on his gun. The other he keeps steady on her shoulder.
She carries the flashlight pointed forward, the yellow beam cutting through the darkness of steel, panels, and peeled rust of the Ishimura.
Their feet splash through puddles of blood, sending ripples across the surface. Holly stops when she steps on something with a wet squish. She sharply inhales. Pan gives her a gentle push to keep going. He catches a glimpse of what it was, and jerks his head away from the slippery glint.
They reach the automatic doors leading to the Bridge. A holographic wheel with the word: Locked hovers over the face of them.
Pan squeezes Holly's shoulder. She looks back at him and he points at his wrist, then the door. She nods. With Holly on the right side and Pan on the left, they use their kinesis modules to pry the sliding doors open. A blue wisp leaves Pan's hand as he hits the doors with a stasis charge.
Assuming their previous stance, Pan clasps a hand on Holly's shoulder and they tiptoe their way inside.
Holly gags and Pan's mouth fills with a sour taste.
There's a pungent stench to the air. It's as if a doctor who had recently drained the milk from a cyst positioned the discharge in an air vent.
Pan whispers to Holly, stifling the urge to vomit. "Through your nose, Winterberry. Breathe through your nose."
Holly whimpers. Her shoulders tense and she too, resists the urge to vomit.
They move forward.
The cone of yellow from their flashlight reveals writing on the walls. Smeared by a finger in blood, strange hieroglyphics accompany cries for help.
₩Ɇ'ⱤɆ ₳ⱠⱠ ₲Øł₦₲ ₮Ø ĐłɆ. ₵Ʉ₮ Ø₣₣ ₮ⱧɆłⱤ Ⱡł₥฿₴. ₦Ø ⱧØ₱Ɇ. ₴Ø₥Ɇ฿ØĐɎ ₱ⱠɆ₳₴Ɇ ⱧɆⱠ₱ Ʉ₴. ₴Ø₴.
There's a trio of mangled corpses piled up in the corner where the hallway turns to the right. Holly and Pan move past them. They continue their way forward, like mice weaving through the veins of an old motel, until they reach the entrance to the maintenance shafts.
Pan gives the circular compartment on his tool belt three clicks to the left. He retrieves a power node and fits the hockey puck sized charge into the port beside the door.
Gun withdrawn and with his finger on the trigger, Pan steps inside first. The storage room is drenched in darkness until Holly follows in his footsteps, and sweeps the flashlight in survey of the area.
She points the flashlight at the wall and reveals a symbol like that of devil horns, interlocking and twisting until their tips align and nearly kiss. It's been scratched into the paneling. Carved around the symbol, there's more of the strange hieroglyphs. Dozens of them. Like too many flies buzzing around an emaciated child.
Holly's helmet disengages and she drops the flashlight. It rolls away.
She caresses the symbol. "It's so beautiful. Like a Christmas tree."
The hieroglyphs float off of the wall, buzzing with red static. They throb. Pulse. And dance in the air, like glittering stars in a whirlwind.
Pan closes his eyes. Needles stab a sharp pain to the meat of his brain and he groans. He takes two steps backwards and smacks into a shelf. The hieroglyphs swarm him. They melt through his suit and tattoo into his skin. They sink in deeper. They sink in deeper and deeper and deeper until they're swimming with the proteins in his blood and coating them with their knowledge, their wisdom and power, they know all, they want all, they see all— M̵a̶k̷e̸ us who̸l̵e̵, Mr. Darsteller, M̵a̶k̷e̸ us who̸l̵e̵.
When he opens his eyes, the hieroglyphs are gone.
"I really can't stay," Holly sings. "Baby it's cold outside. I gotta go away."
She's decorating the symbol carved into the wall, filling in the grooves with copper wire from one of the shelves. Sitting at the top of the symbol, between the two points, is a star. One she made from the copper wire. There's red thread wrapped around it, her hair. Two bald patches spot the back of her head.
"Fräulein," A pause. "Holly, avert your eyes. Do not gaze upon that symbol."
She ignores him. He wraps a hand around her forearm and tries to encourage her away. She resists him. He tries again, firmer, and she jerks away. It's then that he gets a glimpse of her face, and something in him slips.
"This evening has been," Holly hums, blood pouring over her lips. "So very nice."
Pan looks to the copper star and sees a tooth wrapped in among her hair.
He turns back to the shelves, his eyes hunting around for something. Anything. He spots a folded fire suppression blanket, rolls it out, and throws it over Holly. She screams like a bobcat in heat and he traps her.
Holly kicks. Shrieks. Wails, thrashes, and sobs. Pan fights her to the ground, gets her arms behind her back, and uses the weight of his chest between her shoulder blades to keep her pinned.
"I just want to be with you forever!" She weeps. "They can give us that! They want to!"
His eyes well up. Once he gets both of her wrists secured within one hand, he snakes the other around her mouth. She screams into a coughing fit, muffled by his palm.
Tears stream down his cheeks. He tries to plead with her, "Shhh. Shhh. Liebling, please. You must calm yourself."
Every ten or so seconds, Holly kicks. Squirms. Or tries to wrestle Pan away, as if she were one of the many inmates he's detained in the past. Be that as it may, she eventually tires and falls limp. Her sobbing continues.
They remain on the floor until the lights flicker on.
A mechanical hiss sighs through the air. Gears clunk and grind below them. The Ishimura groans like an old train engine waking from hibernation.
"...P-Pan?" Holly whispers into his palm.
Pan breathes a sigh of relief.
She's returned to him.
He removes himself from keeping her pinned to the ground, helps her to her feet, and keeps her eyes away from the symbol on the wall.
"What just happened?! Why were you—"
She touches where her tooth had been, finger dipping into the empty cavity in her gums. Confusion and fear sweep across her face. Pan shakes his head.
"Deploy your helmet, my love. We must leave this wretched place."
Holly searches his eyes for an answer. He doesn't have one.
She nods and her helmet climbs over her head, sheets of armor interlocking into place. Her visor lights up and shines a brilliant green. His helmet follows suit.
They reach the elevator without interruption.
Hanging in the doorway, Pan peers down and into the guts of the shaft. There's a stray wire, hissing and spitting sparks. His stomach drops when he spots their way forward. An empty corridor. Leading into more darkness.
It's quite the jump. Farther than he had originally anticipated.
Pan scans the walls for an option to engage zero gravity, and finds none.
Holly squeezes his hand. He squeezes back.
He's certain to make it to the other side. His legs are long, packed with muscle, and his suit is augmented for adapting to hazardous situations. In contrast, though her suit is augmented comparatively to his, Holly is a petite woman.
Anxiety makes itself a home within his chest.
She won't make it.
Not absent from his assistance. Which in and of itself leads to another issue.
Holly will have to jump first. Straight into the mouth of the unknown.
He doesn't know what lies ahead. He doesn't know what monsters may be lurking in the shadows.
Yet it's their only hope.
He hands Holly his gun.
"You must be the first to cross," A pause. "Ich liebe dich. I will only be a heartbeat away."
Holly stares at the gun in her hands. She grips the handle and nods her head.
It's such a terrible thing for such a beautiful woman to hold. After this is over, she'll never have to see one again. He'll make certain of it.
Bending down to a knee, Pan makes a bridge with his hands for Holly's foot. She steps onto it. He tests her weight before preparing himself with a deep breath.
"On my mark."
Pan counts down from three. As if he were spring loaded, Holly pushes off of his hands at the exact moment he stands and launches her forward.
His heart thunders in his chest. He watches her fly across the chasm, blue sparks below crackling.
Please, liebling. Please make it!
Arms wobbling, she lands on the other side with a thunk. Holly sweeps his gun from side to side, lowering it once the coast is clear. His shoulders relax. She spins around and gestures for him.
He takes a few steps back and empties his lungs. Getting a running start, Pan leaps across the elevator shaft. He lands beside Holly, teetering back and forth. She grabs one of his arms and pulls him forward and away from the drop behind him.
Heart thumping, he takes Holly into a hug and holds her close. She wraps her arms around him. It lasts for a moment, and then she's handing him back his gun. He puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her forward through the darkness. Slowly. Absent their flashlight, forgotten in their haste to abandon the pocket room before the maintenance shafts.
Granted a boon, most fortunately the escape pods are a straight shot from here.
They creep forward and Holly's the first to step into something horrendously wet, followed by Pan. It's firm. But pulpous and with give. He squishes his boot down and something pops. Liquid he can't see through the dark squirts against his leg.
Their footsteps echo with wet squelches. They reach the wall sized door to the last of the escape pods, and there are loose wires dangling from the ceiling. A dull light fizzles. It's just enough for them to see their surroundings, and Holly gasps.
"What the Hell," She points at the growth consuming on the door. "Is that… is that skin?"
Pan smears a finger against the substance. It's leathery yet plush to the touch, like a blister with too much liquid. Veins bulge from the surface. They're twitching. Throbbing. And spreading in branches.
He chooses not to answer Holly.
Directing his attention right, he searches for the control panel. There's the hint of an orange glow radiating from beneath the flesh at the center of the doors. They're locked.
"We need to cut through this," Holly hisses. "Fuck. Fuck me."
She grabs her plasma cutter from off of her belt and adjusts the settings. It hums as she switches it on. A steady laser, no longer than a finger in length, sizzles in the air from the middle prong.
"Geliebte. Come to me," Pan points to where he believes the control panel is. "Start here and work your way down."
"Can you bypass it?"
"Why, but of course I can. I'm Pan Darsteller."
"Yeah, yeah. I know. The one and only."
He hums with approval. Pin pricks of warmth fill his chest.
Brown blood sputters from the point of Holly's plasma cutter as it struggles through the flesh on the wall. She cuts out a crude square. Pan cleans the revealed panel with a swipe of his hand. He yanks the cover off, digs his hand into the wires, and searches for their entry port. All he needs to do is locate the third cable to the left and―Aha! Found the scoundrel!
Pan snaps the wire and the light beneath the growth on the door switches blue. Starting at the top, Holly stands on the tips of her toes and carves through the flesh on the door. She has to refill the cartridge on her plasma cutter halfway down. Pan grabs one of the flayed hunks of skin and rips it back. He does the same to the other side.
With the flesh flanking the doors like curtains to Hell, Pan holds his hand over the digital console fit into the middle of them. It registers his suit and ID number. A muddied projector issues a scan over him that confirms his identity as a crew member aboard the Ishimura, with access granted thanks to his job class as an electrical engineer.
The doors whine with a mechanical groan. They part the width of a soda can before the power chugs down, and the hologram pinches closed with a zip.
Pan wedges his foot down between the doors. Grabbing both of them, he grunts and forces them apart. Holly hits them with a stasis charge. Pan releases the doors and they both head inside. A moment later, they grind back into position, leaving but a crack open.
There are three escape pods on either side of the room, set into their ports like baseballs in a catcher's glove. Seated at the head of a room rests a podium with a control panel. Flesh and soggy tissue has overgrown it all, dripping and twitching. Cysts bulge from the walls, tendrils wiggling in and out of their cores. They appear to be breathing.
Pan makes a break for the center console, with Holly in tow behind him. He accesses the emergency command system, enters his admission codes, and escape pod three's hatch hisses open. Cool mist pours out of it.
A sheet of steel drops from the ceiling. It bangs against a portion of the floor not coated in flesh. Holly startles and Pan aims his gun from where it fell.
Silence.
A cyst shudders.
Pan keeps his gun trained on the ceiling. Reaching for Holly's arm, he grabs hold of her, and guides her to the escape pod. He's made to relax his gun for the time being.
Holly stares at the single cushioned seat nestled within the escape pod. Her shoulders tighten. Pan encourages her inside with a pat on the butt. She hesitates. Disengaging her helmet, she ultimately climbs inside and fits into the seat. Pan peers down at her. He wipes his hand on his thigh and touches her face. He strokes her cheek. Even through all the blood, her missing tooth, and the dirt rimming her nostrils, she looks just like a doll.
Her hair and her eyes and her face are perfect. She's perfect.
God must have made her for him.
Swinging his head inside, Pan checks the control board on the left hand side of the escape pod.
Communications are online. The correct coordinates for the nearest star gate are green lit, life support is active, and there's a spare oxygen tank underneath the seat. Reviewing the screen on the left, Pan taps on the keyboard and scrolls through the interface's list of emergency rations. There's plenty of food and water to be had, all tucked neatly in a storage container behind the seat.
Something rattles above them. Pan's heart leaps into his throat. Footsteps. Too many to be human. Frantic. Like a caged animal. A wheeze followed by a grunt better befitting a diseased boar bounces around the room.
Pan pulls the three drive shift levers above Holly's head, one right after the other, to initiate the escape pod's launch sequence. The engines on the back rumble to life.
Holly reaches for Pan. Her bottom lip trembles.
"P-please. Pan, please. Don't. Don't make me go alone. Both of us can fit. We can manage."
He looks over his shoulder at escape pod five. They should go their separate ways for now. He understands this as a rule. And yet…
There are enough rations in escape pod three to sustain them for a trip and back to the nearest star gate twice over. The fit will be tight. And most likely uncomfortable. Yet it's as she spoke: They will manage.
Pan's helmet disengages.
"Meine Süße. Don't make such a face," He places a fist up to his mouth and talks through his nose. "Ksht. This is your glorrrious captain speaking!"
Holly's eyes grow warm and wet with tears. She opens her arms and smiles in wait for his embrace.
Pan smiles back. His eyelids droop. "Bold of you to assume you'd be flying alone, mademoiselle. Now then. Best get comfy, for you and I are about―"
The world holds its breath.
An arc of hot blood hits Holly in the face and Pan lurches forward. She screams. Pan spits up on her chest. A man missing the lower half of his face and with bone scythes branched out of his shoulders roars. Holly's hands claw desperately for Pan, trying to pull him inside with her. Blood pours from the gash in his neck. The monster behind Pan slashes him in the back, and his rig blinks to yellow.
Pan's eyes find Holly's. He can see the reflection of the craven bastard in her iris.
Pan grits his teeth.
"Pan!" Holly shrieks. "No!"
"verzeihen Sie mir."
"No!"
Deploying his helmet, Pan shoves himself back and slams the hatch shut on escape pod three. He stumbles to the right, elbows the slasher in the ribs, and flips the emergency throw switch on the escape pod. A panel slides open. Pan grabs the toggle for a manual override and yanks it down.
Holly beats her fists against the window. She's screaming. The escape pod rolls back and the tunnel bulkheads behind it groan as they grind open. The floor vibrates. Lunging for Pan, the slasher misses as he dodges to the left. The escape pod's engines hum. They grow in volume until an automated voice declares:
Launch sequence initiated.
The escape pod jerks backwards and sounds like a pair of jeans splitting at the thigh. It struggles to tear free from the revealed flesh fused around it at the base. Gears grind against thick wads of tissue, their cogs clogged. Blood splatters the hull. A red alarm throbs in response.
Warning. Warning. Flight path blocked.
Launch sequence terminated.
The escape pod rattles and the tunnel behind it rotates shut. It slides back into place with a thunk.
Pan growls. He makes a grab for the toggle and lifts it up and slams it back down again. Nothing happens.
From across the room, the slasher sways back and forth. It twitches. The intestines hanging from its stomach cavity sway like slippery cables. Pan evens his weight out by adjusting his stance. He studies the morbid thing. Ice clenches his heart when he comes to understand that the slasher is studying him in return.
Pan raises his gun and punches two bullets to it's head.
Which only serves to agitate it.
Pan dumps his magazine into the slasher. Arms flailing, the slasher leaps at Pan with two downward swipes of its scythes. Aiming his wrist at the guardrails that flank each escape pod, he rips a bar free with his kinesis module. He shoots it at the slasher. The bar punctures it in the throat and carries it into the wall with a wet crunch.
It roars. Kicks. And convulses. Pan looks at the scythe arms, gleaming with blood. His blood.
Pan holsters his gun and equips his plasma cutter. He squeezes the trigger. An arc of blue energy buzzes through the air and slices off one of the Slasher's scythe arms. Pan points at the other arm, and dismembers it as well.
The slasher slumps forward. It gurgles with a twitch.
Pan heaves a sigh. So that's what finally did the confounded thing in?!
Tucking his plasma cutter away, Pan redirects his attention to Holly. She's still beating her fists against the window, and screaming something fierce. Her voice is muffled by the escape pod.
"Pan! Pan!" Holly points to the ceiling. "Look out!"
A slasher drops on Pan and grapples him to the ground. It stabs a scythe into Pan's shoulder and sinks into the meat of his upper chest. Pan's vision blurs. His rig blinks to red. Sensing the imminent threat to his life, Pan's advanced suit dispatches the med kit slotted onto his back. With a grunt, Pan peels the slasher off of him and hurls it into the command console at the head of the room. Sparks spray from the impact.
Liquid material floods over Pan's wound and stitches his suit back up. Stem cells reach for each other across the pit in his shoulder. Veins, new tissue, and gels laced with morphine clog the hole. His rig chirps. It careens up from red, to yellow, to a healthy blue. Stumbling to his feet, a dizziness sweeps over his mind. The room spins. He wrestles with his body adjusting to the painkillers.
Holly's screaming, tears pouring down her face. She digs out her plasma cutter and beats it against the tempered glass. Neon blue flashes from her escape pod as she tries to blast her way out.
The marquee scrolling text above the hatch reads: In transit.
Her escape pod is malfunctioning. It hasn't yet sensed that it's still docked. The hatch is vacuum sealed shut. As of this moment, the system understands itself to be traveling through space.
The slasher dented into the command console gets itself tangled in a mesh of wires. It thrashes on it's back. Pan seizes the opportunity to blast it's arms off. He returns to his task at hand.
Holly won't be able to free herself with her plasma cutter. In the event of a planet crack gone awry, the escape pods aboard the Ishimura were manufactured to withstand meteorite level impacts. If gravitational debris won't shuck the oyster open, neither will a plasma cutter.
Bracing himself against her escape pod, Pan smears a bloody hand print across the surface while searching for the circuit block. A fuse must have blown. He can swipe one from a separate escape pod and switch it out. All he must do now is locate where the devil fizzled out.
Pan finds the circuit block, pops off the panel, and a snarl bellows at him from the doors he and Holly entered through. Squeezing it's head through the crack, a slasher writhes like an animal on a leash in an attempt to force itself in. It's scythe arms shriek against the steel doors.
Fumbling for his plasma cutter, Pan's pushed away from Holly's escape pod by a separate slasher slamming into him. It knocks the wind out of his lungs. Pan tries to catch his breath, and steals a glance up at the panel missing from the ceiling.
He didn't even hear the bastard.
The Slasher's scythe arms fly down, and Pan's hands shoot up. He grabs the thing by the forearms to keep it at bay. His muscles burn from the exertion. Pan clenches his teeth. A separate pair of arms on the Slasher, jutting out from it's waist, rake at the armor of his suit. Spit from a roar that rattles the loose flesh in the Slasher's mouth slaps Pan's visor.
Rearing back his head back, Pan grunts and slams his helmet into the Slasher's face. Teeth spew from it's maw and clink down Pan's back. Blood drools in streams before his eyes. Pan headbutts the slasher again. Again. And again. Fingers digging into the Slasher's forearms for support, Pan yanks them down and drives his knee into the belly of the best. He rips it's scythe arms off, casts them aside, and kicks the corpse away.
Pan stumbles forward, swaying from side to side. His head is throbbing. And his arms and legs are trembling. Holly's screaming pitches. Her pod lights up with another series of blue flashes. She bangs the grip of her plasma cutter against the port window tirelessly. More screaming. He can't hear her over the drumming of his heart between his ears.
He smears the blood from his visor with a swipe of his fingers and spots four slashers packed in the crack through the door. They're wiggling their cold and disgusting bodies against each other, hacking and slashing, grunting and snarling, swinging too many limbs forward in an attempt to climb inside.
Pan steps back, shaking his head. He doesn't possess the strength to fight them all.
Movement on the ceiling draws his attention. At which point his heart clenches, and a slasher swings down like an ape and drops to the floor. It charges Pan. Ducking and stepping to the left, Pan balls up a fist, and swings it like a truck into the side of the Slasher's face. He swipes it clean off and the red meat hits Holly's escape pod.
"Get in the other pod!" Holly screams, voice raw and hoarse. "Get in the other pod!"
The slasher hits the floor. It scrambles to get back up and Pan blows one of its arms off. Aiming for the second arm, he fires and his plasma cutter clicks empty. He doesn't have the time to reload it. Pan grits his teeth and stomps on the Slasher's other arm to sever it.
He looks between Holly's escape pod and the hoard of Slasher's growing in number at the door.
A single heartbeat echoes through his body.
He turns his attention to escape pod five, the smashed center console, and then to the decompression containment wall behind it. Plastered on a warning label, the word Caution book ended by a pair of yellow triangles outlined in black fill in his eyes.
The slashers are bumbling over one another, now. Clawing and grunting and squirming through the door.
He doesn't have the time to perform the necessary maintenance on Holly's escape pod. Nor can he simply duck into life pod five and save himself. He won't forsake her and allow for her to die here.
Pan closes his eyes. Just for a moment.
He steadies his resolve with the thought of their future together. It should be worth noting he has an impressive stash of credits at the ready for retirement. It's been his desire for some time now to retreat to Gliese and live out the remainder of his life in luxury.
Pan opens his eyes and heads to the decompression containment wall.
He smiles to himself, wistfully. What might she happen to think of him, when she arrives at the nearest star gate and learns she's his sole beneficiary? He's well aware of her financial situation, after all.
Will she adopt his last name?
Tearing the patch of skin grown over the corner of the panel he's seeking, Pan reveals a number pad. He types in his admission codes and the floor opens up to his left, and up rises a lever.
Holly Darsteller. Ah, ja. That does have a rather nice ring to it.
She always did say her last name had a D in it.
Will she find amusement in that detail, as he does now?
You may kiss the bride.
Pan grips the lever.
He focuses his attention on Holly's escape pod. She's shaking her head. He can read her lips.
"Don't you do it, you crazy mother fucker! Don't you dare!"
He may very well not survive this. Yet this is her best chance.
And she's everything to him.
Pan cranks the lever back. The two gears recessed into the decompression containment wall push forward, hiss, and rotate to unlock. A slasher pops out from the crowd wiggling in the doorway. It hits the ground running towards Pan.
"Hey, mind savin' some O2 for those of us down here?"
"Save your ridicule. You will gain no rise from me. Best be on your way. I would hate to have to take a deep breath and leave you starved of air."
"Hey! Get back here! I said get back here! I'm talkin' to you! You the guy that fixed my excavator?
"And if such were to be the case?"
"Mind fixin' my helmet? There's a drink in it for you."
Pan huffs a laugh. Ah, how ironic. Perhaps even cliché. Of all the things to cross his mind―
The decompression containment wall parts open. Like a man gasping for air, the vacuum of space sucks out Pan, the slasher lumbering towards him, and the others who had been clawing to reach him. They fly by Holly's escape pod in a tangle of diseased limbs and gaping mouths.
Her escape pod rattles like a tin roof in a windstorm. The metal screams and the escape pod lifts into the air, pulled towards the vacuum of space. Ropes of veins, flesh, and sinew snap from the base of the pod. It shakes. Groans. The engines kick on in sensing the turbulence. Fire shoots from the four cylinders on the back and the pod lurches forward. Skin rips from the base of the pod like a stubborn scab.
A cartridge light near the number pad beside the decompression containment wall blinks on. It starts pulsing with red light. Having sensed the prolonged and drastic change in cabin pressure from the air destabilization, the Ishimura's automatic lock down system begins initiation. An emergency shield shoots up from the floor and seals off the room.
Holly's escape pod tears and slams into the shield, denting it. The engines cough with fire before cutting off. The escape pod drops with a thunk. It rolls like an eyeball absent a socket to the middle of the room, and creaks before settling. The attached cables of flesh and veins twitch on the floor.
Holly brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. She tucks her chin down and curls up into a ball. Tears accompany her rasping sobs.
Wet squelching footsteps walk the perimeter of her escape pod.
Holly grips her plasma cutter.
・:* 𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈 *:・
It's been awhile since I've posted a chapter this long to a multi chapter story. And while I could have and probably should have separated this chapter into two parts, I have my heart set on the phrase the first word of every chapter is going to spell once I complete this story. So hold on, my friends. These chapters might become: hefty hefty hefty! This chapter in it's totality was a hell of a ride to write. And I hope you all enjoyed reading it.