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Post by KitClairvoyance on Feb 6, 2009 19:59:12 GMT -5
T for violence and gore.
Cold obsidian greeted Kit as he stepped into the alien farm, the smooth black surfaces of the walls reflecting his image perfectly. The building itself was a sprawling complex of corridors, chambers, and giant holding pens, designed to hold an entire city's worth of humans. An involuntary shudder ran down his spine as he thought of what the humans here were subjected to. It was common knowledge by now that humans had become the staple food for the mythics, and this entire building was dedicated to the single purpose of preparing humans as food. Still, word had it that even worse things lurked within the cold black walls of the farm. Stories of humans sectioned away for the sole purpose of breeding, secret labs subjecting unlucky humans to sadistic experiments, and yet more humans used for the twisted pleasure of the Mythics.
His hands clenched at the thoughts, wishing he could help more of them. Yet, there was only so much a single person could do, and no matter how hard he wished, he couldn't save them all. Not yet. Maybe someday when the resistance was stronger, when they had gained back enough resources. Maybe then he could tear down this horrific building. But not now.
As the corridors led deeper and deeper into the complex, Kit's heart began to beat harder. All he knew about the layout of the building had come from earlier reconnaissance, quick infiltrations into the building to gather information in case he ever had to enter the place. He had never been this deep into the building himself, but on a stroke of luck, he had managed to get a map of the building on a recon sweep a week back. Translation of the map was rough at best, and it was all he could do to hope that he was heading towards the correct holding cells, and not their dining hall.
Dining hall.
The corridor branched off to the side, leading to a dining hall according to the map. He stopped to take a peek in before forcing his eyes away, his stomach twisting at the sight within. Humans were caged up along the far side of the dining hall, their faces hysterical in fear at the sight of other humans being forced out of their cages, kicking and screaming, to be stripped and beheaded before being dismembered and eaten. Even worse was the fate of some humans that were devoured alive.
Kit forced himself further down the corridor, his mind still reeling in horror at what he had witnessed. It wasn't far now, the holding cell which held other members of the resistance should be close. He prayed that they were still okay.
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Post by Crystal on Feb 6, 2009 20:00:18 GMT -5
Unlike the others, Crystal did not pray. She was too afraid – too horrified, too stunned. It had all come so fast. Her mind still reeled from last night’s revelation at her nanoscope. Crystal’s wide brown eyes darted about their cage, carved into the black stone three feet above the ground, complete with the thick-woven wire mesh of a cage.
She shivered. It hadn’t been so long ago. Janice had opened the door, and a pale mass had rolled in to capture them, and now they were here. Crystal had been plump, once upon a time, when she was still a genetics research assistant in a large, clean, white lab. Now she was gaunt, and the other women in the cage were no better. Gaunt and cold and half-clad.
There had been wonder at first, as she had been brought kicking and struggling to the black city; wonder that even her grief could not dampen. It was beautiful, this place... a marvel, even. A testament to the beauty in the minds of these mutated people. Spires soared to the blue skies of destroyed Earth, and were held there, defying gravity, by the massive technology which let these people take flight. Then she had been brought to the factory, and terror had taken the place of awe.
If the natural appearance of these creatures – pale, huge-eyed, pupilless, with grasping hands and sharp spikes – had changed, their methods were no different from those of old Earth. They still farmed. They still bred other animals for food. Other, weaker animals. She had not understood, at first, why they had slaughtered Carl and Sagan and the rest and spared the few women of the colony, but now a horrifying prospect was beginning to dawn in her mind.
When you reared rats, you caged up many females and set a male aside… a strong, handsome, large male. If he was not willing, then there was always artificial means. Once the females were pregnant, you set them aside, let them grow and give birth and wean their children, then you took the babies away from them and threw them back into the cage. Crystal had bred her own rats to experiment on, once upon a time.
Now, she cast a frightened look about her own huge cage, with a dozen girls of varying age and size. The more experienced ones were calm and somewhat hopeless looking. How many children had they seen taken off to be raised for the slaughter? In a smaller cage across that vast room, there sat a naked man, with his head resting in his arms, despondent. How many of her own children would she see?
She curled up in a ball to hide her lack of clothing. It was false modesty; she had a shirt to her name and that was more than most. But it made her feel a little warmer.
A terrible scream jolted the woman, and she raised her head to see the door of the cage being opened. And all her prayers rushed back.
“God, O God Almighty, release us from this living hell,” she murmured, tears rolling down her face, as Janice was wrestled from the wire mesh.
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Post by KitClairvoyance on Feb 6, 2009 20:00:36 GMT -5
The labyrinthine corridors of obsidian led Kit further in, beckoning him to enter into the bowels of the farm. The inner part of the building steadily got more sinister, the sharp, jagged turns of the corridors designed to confuse and trap any prisoner that happened to escape. Even Kit was sorely pressed to remember the route he had committed to memory; to the extent that he had to mentally chant the turns he would have to take, for fear of getting permanently lost within the farm.
Light streamed out from one particular chamber, touching Kit's curiosity. The Mythics had no use for light, and the presence of artificial lighting within the farm was worrying at best. He stopped to take a look in, hoping to find something he could use against the Mythics, but instead he was given a glimpse into the twisted nature of the aliens. Spherical tanks filled with a pinkish liquid lined one side of the room, embryos.. human embryos ..suspended within them. Further along the room was a series of larger spheres, also containing embryos, but these were different. Horrifically different. Within the glass tanks were what used to be human embryos with the clear markings of being part Mythic. The spines, the clawed feet. Something about the human-Mythic hybrids made Kit shiver, perhaps it was the fact that he could recognize the human part, perhaps it was their unknown fate.
A hidden door on the other side of the room slid open, startling Kit. He pressed himself tight against the wall next to the door, hoping whoever came through wouldn't notice him. The first one in was a female Mythic, her pale features bleached in the light. Behind her was a female human, stripped naked and being dragged in by another female Mythic. The pair of female Mythics worked with a cold efficiency, strapping the female prisoner spread-eagled onto an obsidian laboratory table, ignoring her desperate pleas for help. The human knew what was going to happen to her, but that didn't stop her cries. Eyes filled with fear darted around the room, both at once trying to find a way out of her predicament, and trying to keep track of what the two female Mythics were doing. Perhaps it was cruel luck that her eyes found Kit's, sending a jolt of recognition into his mind. Janice. Her eyes bore into Kit's, pleading for him to save her. It was all he could do to turn his eyes away as another Mythic stepped in, a male. The male talked to the females in a harsh language, sending them away as he turned to Janice, a twisted smile on his face. Shutting off his conscience, Kit ran. He ran, trying to ignore Janice's cries for help, for mercy.
He couldn't save her.
Forcefully, he pushed his emotions of guilt and grief away. There still were people he could save, and he prayed that Janice would forgive him for running away. Eyes closed, he visualised the map and started back on his way towards the holding cells.
By the time he reached the holding cells, he had already shut Janice's cries out of his head.
The lack of any form of security didn't surprise Kit. The Mythics were an arrogant race, confident in their superiority. Their entire culture was centred on the notion of superiority. He had seen them on one occasion eat the weaker members of their own race, a cannibalistic feast which they embraced passionately in a barbaric festival.
The holding cells consisted of a large chamber which was sectioned off into hundreds of smaller cells. Within each cell were several wire mesh cages which held captive humans. Kit scanned the chamber quickly, noting the cell number which his friends were being held in. The door to the cell was expectedly shut tight.
Kit took a deep breath and began work on the door, sliding a sheet of low-grade plasma explosive into the small crack between the door and the wall. Taking a step backwards, he lit the fuse and watched as the sheet flared up, melting whatever it was that held the door shut. With a little effort he pushed the door open and stepped into the cell.
Several dozen pairs of eyes immediately turned to Kit as he looked around the cell. Most of the humans were female, some naked, some half naked. On the other side of the cell was a single human male, naked and depressed. As the human male looked at him, he jumped up from the floor of his cage and began rattling on the wire mesh of his cage yelling, "SAVE US! SAVE US!" Before he knew it, the entire cell was filled with cries for help and the rattling of wire mesh. Kit held a finger to his lips in vain, trying to keep them silent.
Resignedly, Kit took out a plasma torch and cut the bolts of the cages, hoping he'd be able to organize a clean escape.
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Post by Crystal on Feb 6, 2009 20:01:25 GMT -5
She knew the man. And recognizing him, she threw herself against the cage mesh, time after time, crying out in fear and desperation. Kit! she screamed. Help us! Save us! Heaven help us all, save us! It had been like a prayer, a fevered chant in her head, God Almighty, save us! and now it had been answered, and all she could do was to throw herself against the wire mesh and call out to him and hope he heard her voice.
In the time since Janice had been taken, two other girls had been dragged away. She had heard whispers of why so many were taken away at once, and why the one male in their pen had not been touched. They weren’t satisfied with human babies, now, they weren’t. They wanted more tender, or more gamey, or just… just… just different food. Different palates to cater to. Oh, this factory did a roaring business, it did, selling the meat of children. Her cage numbered now only eight, and with a slowly mounting terror, she had known that soon it would have been her turn.
They said the half-alien children killed their mothers in pregnancy. If you were lucky the aliens would remove the child before it’s claws grew, and your life would be spared, but all too often, they didn’t care. The fact that the two species could interbreed only helped to confirm her suspicions, but suspicions did not help to release her from this hell.
Kit, still fully dressed and armed, moved to the man’s cage first and cut the locks to his cage. She had never been so glad to see anyone. The male leaped out and ran, and the screaming of the various cages increased in unison. Crystal didn’t know how Kit could be here, how he could still be alive, but he was so welcome that she could feel the tears starting again. There were no others of their small group left alive. Janice had been the last. There had only been a few girls to begin with, and the Mythics had had no use for men.
The cage door opened as Kit cut the lock that held it shut, and as she flung herself against it one last time, she tumbled out and fell three feet to the cold stone floor. The other humans did not stop to thank their rescuer, but fled, running out the pens and down the stone-cold corridors, any which way. A few remained to mill about in confusion. Crystal stayed, scrambling to her feet, and stumbling over to him as he cut the locks to the last cell, she threw herself at his feet, hugging the leg that was closest to her. She didn’t know why she did; was he an angel from heaven, sent by God? They had been friends - heaven knew everyone in their little colony had been close to each other - but how could he have survived?
“Kit,” she wailed hysterically. “Kit, they’re all gone, they’re all dead, the Mythics took Janice, they’re all gone! They killed David, Carl, Tinin, Sagan, everyone! I thought I saw Hanna here but she’s gone too, Kit, she’s gone, there’s just me left! Kit, what will we do?”
There were alien cries from down the corridor, and human screams. She heard, in the senses that fear lent her, the short sharp cry of the man whom Kit had loosed, drowning in death. And she looked up, in that moment aware of everything around her; the cold floor against her bare skin, the rush of stale air through her half-buttoned shirt, the dim greenish light that pervaded this place, the look on Kit’s face carved against the obsidian walls.
“What will we do!?”
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Post by KitClairvoyance on Feb 6, 2009 20:01:36 GMT -5
Kit never really had a chance. The second he cut the bolt off a cage, its occupants fell out in a frantic torrent, shoving to get out. He tried yelling in vain over the racket of voices, trying to establish some sort of order. They couldn't escape like this. The Mythics would cut them down without a second thought, just more food for their gluttonous feasting. Within the anarchy that had taken hold of the cell, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his leg. Looking down, he saw a familiar face, her voice choked with despair and fear. Gently, he knelt down and put his arms around her, his heart stung by the names of the friends he had come to save. All dead, except Crystal.
He remembered the day it all fell down upon them. There was no warning, just a knock on the door and then a flood of merciless pale and a torrent of blood. Kit's escape was by pure luck. An explosive triggered in an attempt to seal off part of the colony from the aliens set off a chain reaction, tearing a large hole in the colony. Kit was caught in the explosion and was thrown away from the scene of the slaughter, miraculously with only minor injuries. He spent a day hiding in the woods, watching as the aliens dragged away and killed his friends.
"We'll get out of this place Crystal. We'll find a way out." Soft comforting whispers, repeated into her ears to calm her down. Kit's initial plan was to lead them out two or three at a time. Slowly moving them out without notice. The sound of human screams and alien laughter that slowly crept closer dimmed the hope of carrying that plan out. For the first time since he entered the farm, Kit began to doubt if he'd be able to get out alive himself. As he closed his eyes in partial-defeat, he saw the look of humans that lined the cages in the dining hall. Their hysterical fear, the painful deaths. And then there was Janice. Subjected to the will of a male Mythic, deriving twisted pleasure from her. The human-Mythic babies. The humans in the holding cells.
He couldn't just abandon Crystal and the other survivors to the same fate. With a forced resolution, he spoke to her and those that remained.
"If we want to get out of here, we must do so quickly. And with silence." As he spoke, he stared at the black obsidian wall in front of him, unwilling to look at them. The aliens had taken away their humanity by stripping them, and it was all he could do to treat them as humans. "Our best chance now is to keep moving forward, and hopefully reach the other side of the farm."
The alien laughter grew closer, they had finished slaughtering the prisoners that ran out and were feasting on their remains. An act of arrogance. Kit knew that they were waiting for the other prisoners to run to them, waiting for their food to be delivered. It wouldn't be long before they ran out of patience and started forward again. It was pretty much now or never.
"C'mon, let's get moving."
He helped Crystal onto her feet, and motioned to the other survivors ( there were about four of them ) to follow silently. In a moment of embarrassment, he gave Crystal his jacket to help her cover herself better as they escaped. Quickly, he briefed them on the route he planned to take, and set back out into the obsidian corridors, the sound of clawed feet already approaching.
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Post by Crystal on Feb 6, 2009 20:02:04 GMT -5
Crystal accepted Kit’s coat in silence, tying it tight about her waist in an attempt to regain her modesty. He was obviously trying his best not to look at her - it was ridiculous, but her cheeks grew warm at the thought. She’d spent two days half-naked, but at least it had been in the company of women. Kit was dressed in the normal clothing of their colony, camouflage green and brown cloth and dark trousers, and he had obviously salvaged what weaponry he could. Her heart ached for the home they’d shared.
She remained silent as he spoke quietly, briefing them on the way out, and trying to commit what he said to memory. Kit had always been better at that – she was the scientist, not the fighter. But then, you didn’t survive long now without learning how to fight.
He turned, and she held out a hand silently for a weapon.
The hallway outside was empty. The rush of humans had gone, likely to become food or worse, and Crystal edged outside, tensed. Barefoot as she was, her feet made little sound on the stone floor. They’d have to move fast. Kit was already beside her, and the other four girls followed. Some were just as silent, a couple were trying to stifle tears. She wished that the softly crying girl behind her would stop; grief and fear would have to wait until they were safe.
She turned and put a finger to her lips, and the girl – Crystal didn’t recognize her – choked back her tears bravely. Perhaps they’d live to see the outside after all.
Kit indicated the direction. Crystal moved.
Behind she could hear the sound of hollow, suddenly hushed screams. Ahead, there was nothing. The mad stampede had mostly been the other way. Which meant anything coming toward them would be coming faster than normal, and she shuddered to think of it, moving a little closer to the wall. To the Mythics, the dark was no real hiding place, but it made her feel a little less frightened.
She remembered Kit’s awkward hug back in the pens. She would have to thank him later, for coming back.
There were rooms on each side of the corridor, and other corridors branching off from it. Crystal refused to look into those rooms. One, she knew sickly from the recon map, would be another dining hall. Others would be bedchambers and living areas, and the doors to those – heavy doors which slid shut - were usually closed.
On ahead, there was the thud of a Mythic’s definitive footsteps, a small one, she reckoned according to how heavy they were. The youngest of the four girls shrank back with a little whimper.
Crystal glanced back at them, readied her makeshift weapon, and prepared to hurt something.
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Post by KitClairvoyance on Feb 6, 2009 20:02:20 GMT -5
Every member of the resistance was trained to fight, regardless of whatever their primary role was. As so, Kit wasn't surprised when Crystal held her hand out, asking for a weapon. Besides the plasma torch on him, Kit had managed to salvage a needle gun, one of the few effective weapons against the Mythics. They had learned quickly that conventional laser and plasma weaponry were for the most part ineffective against the Mythics. Most humans resorted to older kinetic weapons, like the needle gun, when it came to a fight. Without thinking twice, he handed over the lightweight, blue weapon over to Crystal, motioning for her to watch their rear as they made their way out.
Their flight was a swift one. Kit moved through the corridors as quickly as he could, stopping only to allow the other prisoners to catch up. With each pause he made, he looked down the corridors behind them, listening for the telltale clicks of clawed feet on the obsidian floor that told them how close their pursuers were.
Close. Their pursuers were closing in rapidly on them. Kit listened to the clicks, one could tell how far away their pursuers were by the sound of the clicks. The further the pursuers were, the more each click vibrated, having been reflected off the obsidian walls repeatedly. Right now, the clicks were coming through clearly, not a good sign. Close as the exit was, getting out of the building did not guarantee their safety. The outside world was just as hostile as the inside of the building, and Kit would rather face those dangers without having to look behind them for pursuers.
Kit's worries about pursuers were quickly overridden when their flight was brought to an abrupt halt, the solid click-thump of a Mythic's footstep coming down the corridor. He didn't need to tell the group to stop, the four prisoners had frozen in fear and Crystal already had her weapon in hand. A long moment of silence followed, the lone Mythic stopping and waiting for them to walk right into her deadly spines, and Kit thinking of some way past.
Click.
The single female Mythic stepped out of the darkness, her pale figure slightly taller than Kit. Sleek obsidian plates protected her body, made from the same material as the farm. Spines protruded from her arms and legs; sharp and bone-like, the spines proved as effective a weapon as any melee weapon in human history. In reply, Kit took out the only other weapon he had, the plasma torch.
The female Mythic laughed at the sight of Kit's weapon, sending a chilling shiver down the spines of the four human females, with good reason too. The plasma torch was hardly an effective weapon, at best it could be used as a makeshift club. Still, the Mythic had failed to notice the needle gun in Crystal's hand, and perhaps if Kit could get her into Crystal's line of fire-
The next thing Kit saw was obsidian stained with his blood, a male Mythic having thrown a projectile at Kit from behind the female. In reply, Kit threw his plasma torch at the male, catching him squarely in the eye, sending him howling in pain. Still, Kit could only watch in vain as the female mythic stepped past him and grabbed the nearest female prisoner, disemboweling her in front of the others.
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Post by Crystal on Feb 6, 2009 20:02:54 GMT -5
Crystal stifled a cry as a Mythic stepped from the concealing darkness in front of Kit, who faced her bravely, unarmed and terrifyingly vulnerable. She brought her needle gun up, aiming it toward the creature, when another Mythic – a male? – stepped from the shadows behind the first one.
Crystal ducked the projectile it threw, snapping her gun arm over and firing a single shot at the alien. Kit was not as lucky; from the corner of her eye, she saw him thrown heavily against the walls with a sickening crack, a spray of blood spurting from his mouth. She fired again – her bullet glanced off the Mythic’s hard armor, but Kit’s makeshift projectile was somewhat more well-aimed. The male Mythic howled, falling to the ground and twitching, temporarily out of the fight.
So caught up had she been with one of the creatures that she had let herself be caught by surprise. It was only the gurgling death cry of one of the prisoners that jerked her back to the fact that there were more than one in this dark malevolent corridor. A pale, spiked hand lunged for one of the helpless girls, knocking Crystal aside with astounding force. It was only Kit’s body, still lying against the wall, which saved her from breaking her skull against the cold stone floor.
Her head spun with the screams of the surviving women. The youngest girl, who had been so terrified, so brave at trying to stifle her tears; died without a sound. Her hands clutched at her broken belly, trying to keep in her own spilled entrails and oozing blood. Glazed eyes stared upward at the other three as the female Mythic cried a harsh roar of triumph before bending over to feast. She could hear bones crunching and the terrible wet sound of teeth shearing through raw flesh.
Crystal screamed her own defiance, lying on her back on the cold floor, her eyes smeared with Kit’s and the girl’s splattered blood, and fired blindly, over and over again, toward the terrible sounds of the feast. The Mythic choked, snarled, and got to her feet. She kept firing, aiming for the creature’s head as it stumbled closer, and at point blank range, the sharp bullets that came with the needle gun finally ripped through the thing’s thick skull.
There was a thud and sudden silence as the Mythic fell to the floor, broken only by the dry sobs of the three still surviving prisoners. Crystal stumbled to her feet, bruised and in pain and still shaking with adrenaline. She had wasted more bullets than she should have, through not aiming carefully. There were precious few parts in a Mythic’s body which allowed anything but a high-velocity bullet to penetrate.
They were descended from humans, she thought savagely, but they don’t have many of our weaknesses. And they shouldn’t have, if their homeworld was anything like how they had built their hard, cold cities to be.
“Kit,” she said hoarsely, “The other one is still alive. Club it with the torch. Please. I’ll search the female’s body.” Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she reached out a hand to help him up. Her stomach constricted itself with fear. He couldn’t be gone. He shouldn’t have been hurt very badly. “Kit? Kit, come on, get up, please.”
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Post by KitClairvoyance on Feb 6, 2009 20:03:03 GMT -5
Kit struggled to stay conscious, wanting to halt the murderous advance of the female Mythic when he was hit directly in the chest, hard. The last thing he saw was Crystal backing away into him, her weapon raised as she fired repeatedly; her defiant screams lost upon his nearly-unconscious ears, pain slowly taking him into a sticky cradle of sleep.
He didn't know what caused him to snap out of his semi-conscious state, if it was the urgent need to get out, the sudden silence that filled the corridor, or Crystal's worried voice, gently calling out to him. Whichever it was, it gave him enough of a grip on himself to open his eyes. It took him a while to organize his sights, eventually focusing on Crystal's outstretched hand. The other three female prisoners were huddled in fear, one of them crying hysterically after what they had witnessed; the young girl's corpse laid out bare, her half-eaten entrails spread out all around her.
Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet with Crystal's help; his side aching in a dull, intense pain where he was struck. Automatically, his hand touched the place of his injury, gauging the extent of its damage. To his relief, the projectile was a blunt weapon. He was bruised badly, but at least the bleeding was very mild. With a little effort, he managed a smile to reassure Crystal that he would be fine. The look on Crystal's face however, reminded Kit that they were still far from being in the clear.
Though injured badly, the male Mythic managed to growl at Kit as he reached down to forcefully tear the plasma torch from the alien's opaque eye. silver eye-fluid splattered everywhere, flecks of white upon the obsidian walls. Kit's hand tightened around the plasma torch in anger as he stabbed it down into the Mythic's other eye, smashing its eye-socket and plunging straight into its brain. He didn't bother yanking the plasma torch out, leaving it in the stiff corpse of the Mythic.
As he looked down at the body of the Mythic, Kit for the first time began to feel the fatigue setting in. His injury had sapped most of his strength, his muscles aching from the whole ordeal so far. Mentally he was exhausted, having seen humans being killed, eaten, and subjected to all sorts of monstrosities. His spirit too was taxed, his faith and beliefs tiring from trying to believe that the Mythics were part of a greater plan. That they had to go through everything for a good end.
As he shook his head to clear all the thoughts away, he knelt down to search the corpse for any useable weapons, recovering several blunt projectiles and an odd-looking obsidian sphere. Kit had seen these obsidian spheres before, his hands uncomfortable at holding such a sadistic weapon. The Mythics had used many of these weapons on their raid on the colony. He remembered seeing one sphere latching onto Lorraine, impaling her as dozens of long, sharp spikes forced their way out of the sphere. The worst part is that often the victim didn't die instantly, the Mythics considering it some sick sport to be able to plant the sphere on places away from vital organs.
Kit shivered as he pocketed the weapon, hoping that he'd never have to see one being used on any of his friends again. Not that most of them were alive anymore.
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Post by Crystal on Feb 6, 2009 20:03:38 GMT -5
It took a terribly long time to calm the other prisoners. Crystal stripped the female Mythic rapidly of armor and weaponry, dropping the armor in disgust. The carved obsidian plates were held together with what looked like rubbery strips of dried organs. She could have done without the sight.
Mythics, she knew, put great store in melee combat and explosives. And it made sense, given that nearly nothing shot from a gun could shatter the plates of their armor. And in keeping with this concept, the female Mythic carried little that was of any use aside from a short staff which appeared to have been fashioned from the tibia of one of their own kind and inlaid with rock of some kind. Crystal would have left that, too, but for what glinted at the top of the staff.
On the top of the tibia, fused somehow bone to bone, glinted one of the honed, polished spikes which adorned the back and arms of a full-grown, high-caste Mythic. It was almost the length of her own arm. Did these things harvest their own dead after eating them? Was there no proper burial, even, for their kings?
She didn’t want to think about it.
Crystal gripped the weapon in both hands. It was an awkward thing, like some kind of makeshift spear with an oversized blade; unbalanced and bulky despite its craftsmanship. It hadn’t been made for her species. But it would have to do.
She pushed back her sweaty hair, the curls darkened by with water and blood, and poked at the female Mythic with the edge of the spike. The body oozed pale liquid – at least it was still tinged red. Milky eyes stared blankly up; and there was the definite chink sound of a small bag on the floor. She picked the little bag up. They didn’t have cloth, these creatures, she noted, almost gagging as she tried to undo the fastenings. It was hard to believe what their species could have come to.
Click.
Crystal whirled. The three other prisoners seemed calmer now – one was sobbing only haltingly, and there were most definitely other creatures approaching. After these bodies on the floor, she knew, they would not get off as easily as simply being eaten. A sick feeling of terror rose in her throat, and her hand slipped to her stomach.
“Come, come!” she urged the others, and tucking the little Mythic bag into Kit’s jacket, she nearly ran on down the corridor. They had to get out of here. She couldn’t take the fear much longer.
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Post by KitClairvoyance on Feb 6, 2009 20:03:52 GMT -5
Obsidian corridor led to obsidian corridor, turning so sharply at times that it seemed like they were going back the way they came from. Even with the map of the farm committed to memory, Kit couldn't help but worry if they had gotten lost. Clicks of clawed feet tapping against the floor came from every direction now, a good portion of the farm's Mythics taking part in the hunt for the small group of fleeing humans.
"Turn left. Straight. Left. Right.."
One more turn. Kit began to run faster, his mind clinging to the belief that at the end of this corridor lay their path back out into the open world. Such was his conviction that even the female human who was crying had stopped, her mind focused on getting out of the farm as quickly as possible. Kit didn't stop to check if the others were keeping up with him, his heart slamming itself against his chest at the need to know if they were finally coming to an exit. He didn't see the fanged creature that dropped off the ceiling onto one of the female humans, pinning her to the floor as it spread its rough body over her, puncturing her windpipe with a quick strike of its fangs.
One of the humans screamed in terror, bringing Kit to an abrupt halt as the six-legged creature lashed out at her, ripping a large chunk out of her side as it tore one of her legs off with a bestial fury, its four eyes already fixated on Crystal and the other female human.
One more turn. Kit could smell the fresh breeze of night air, so close to him, enticing him to just turn and run and get out into the open where it was safer. Yet, Kit's legs refused to move. He was torn between the need to survive, and the need to protect. Inside him, he knew already that his attempt at rescue had failed, only two of the several dozen humans he had hoped to save were still alive. If he ran, at least he could save himself, and perhaps return again another time to try again.
But what if he failed again? Would he keep trying until he got captured and killed himself? Could he even come back, knowing that he had left Crystal to a fate worse than death?
Hesitantly, he reached into his pocket and drew out a small projectile.
A quick snap of the wrist.
Four eyes now focused on him. Six legs propelling two fangs toward his throat.
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Post by Crystal on Feb 6, 2009 20:04:07 GMT -5
Crystal almost fell in her attempt to halt as a dark mass dropped from above their heads. Instinctively she pulled the last surviving prisoner behind her, shielding the last girl with her own body. The needle gun was in her belt – all she had was the makeshift javelin she had looted from the body before. By the time she pulled the gun, it would have been too late. A Mythic’s pet, and a Mythics weapon in the hands of a human. She didn’t even know what this creature was; she had never seen the like of it before.
It was dark, with glinting red eyes and silver fangs, and it had no armor save for it’s own bulk. It was also hairy, unlike the smooth skinned Mythics, and it’s six legs clicked on the ground with a terrible metallic sound.
Crystal felt paralyzed, rooted to the ground as the creature, so bestial, so inhuman, contemplated her with the terrible hunger of a predator. Then there was a heavy sound – a projectile of some kind whipped out of nowhere, striking the beast at the back of it’s head.
Graceful and murderous, the alien creature turned, and charged straight at Kit.
It was perhaps the would-be loss of the only true friend she had left that made Crystal move. With a soundless snarl, she plunged forward, over the body of the dying girl, the javelin raised above her head, and launched herself at the creature.
The carved bone spike sank through it’s body in a viscous, sickening chunk, and monster and human sank to the ground, burying Kit underneath.
It was a long time before she stirred. Her eyes were dazed and a throbbing headache pounded in her head to the click-thud rhythm of the approaching Mythics. The last girl prisoner was at her side, pulling at her arm. “Get up!” she cried. “Get up! They’re coming!” With a terrified glance behind, the woman turned and fled into the outside world, the cool night air, leaving both her rescuer and her fellow prisoner behind.
Crystal dragged herself to her feet, stumbling around the fallen beast to where Kit lay. Some sense of self-preservation in her brain gave her the presence of mind to yank the long-bladed javelin from the beasts’ throat, and to draw the needle gun from her belt.
“Kit?” she croaked, tugging at his exposed arm. “Kit, we have to go. Kit, come on.”
They were, indeed, coming.
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Post by KitClairvoyance on Feb 6, 2009 20:09:11 GMT -5
Two hundred pounds of muscle, bone and fur barreled straight into Kit, slamming him into the ground. The creature's sheer weight pinned Kit down, the musty smell of the creature's fur smothering Kit, threatening to kill him by suffocation if the fangs didn't get to him first. A sharp ringing echoed in Kit's skull, his head throbbing painfully from the impact. At the back of his mind, his consciousness yelled at him to raise an arm to protect himself, yet he couldn't feel his arms. The only sensation that came to him was of his badly bruised body, struggling with pain to draw shallow breaths, the creature's weight constricting him slowly.
He could hear the screams of a woman, yelling hysterically at his direction, followed by the sound of frantic running. An eerie silence followed, punctuated only by ominous click-thuds that seemed to approach them from all around.
Kit wished for a moment that they'd all be silent so he'd be able to get some sleep.
For the second time in the space of an hour, his eyes opened to Crystal's worried voice. He tired to say something to her, to reassure her that he'd probably survive this; but all that came out was a dry whisper, his chest pulsing with pain with each breath. Stubbornly, he pulled himself out from under the creature, apparently slain. A deep javelin wound marked the creature’s throat, out of which deep red blood oozed out from to pool around the creature's head. Kit looked to Crystal with a sense of gratitude and admiration, having saved his life as he had come down into the farm to save hers.
Again, the click-thuds came closer.
A gentle gust of wind touched Kit, reminding him that they weren't far from safety. Using the creature's body as support, he forced himself onto his legs. A hand closed around Crystal's wrist as he nodded in the direction of the exit. "'s not much further," he smiled weakly before leading Crystal out of the obsidian corridors; leaving the Mythics behind them as they escaped into the woods beyond, his hand on hers as he guided her out.
For the first time in a long while, Kit felt happy to see the clear night sky. Cold air stung at his bruised skin, but at least they weren't being pursued any longer. Why should they be? After all, they were only two humans compared to the thousands of others that the Mythics held captive within their twisted farm of obsidian. They were deep within the woods, having put considerable distance between them and the farm. Tiredness and hunger was beginning to set in.
Finally giving into his body, Kit collapsed against the trunk of a tree, unable to go any further.
"We should be safe," he panted, eyes already closing.
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Post by Crystal on Feb 6, 2009 20:09:20 GMT -5
Sunlight woke Crystal from her exhausted, drugged sleep curled up against Kit’s body. Sunlight stained brown and green against the foliage of charred trees which had tried to recover themselves.
Her eyes felt somehow heavy. Her mind, stupid with fatigue, woke slowly. Slowly. She began sorting through her thoughts.
Fifteen years ago, there had been reports of something coming from outer space… a ship of some kind. A black ship, with black aliens within. Crystal had been a biologist then, a fresh graduate from a top university, hired into a genetics research lab. She’d had a boyfriend – she tried to summon a memory, but couldn’t. She’d loved him, though. He’d died a long time ago.
The human race had prepared itself. Delegates. Explosives. Spaceships. It hadn’t been good enough.
And now, here they were. Crystal sighed, a long, regretful sigh. Her purpose for living the last few years had been to piece together where the aliens came from, how they had found the planet. In the chaos of the slaughter, evidence had been found: the first deep space flights of Earth, centuries ago, had been an utter disaster. They had never returned. Mankind had assumed, when evidence came forth to link the two together, that the alien race had captured those flights, come back to get the rest. Of course, they had. Who’d want to think otherwise?
Until, of course, Cain had come in one day a few years ago and asked her to investigate Mythic DNA. Asked her to speculate what kind of habitat could have made them so. Cold black rock, perhaps? she’d said, to make them dark. Heat or cold, to make them go underground.
Lack of food, he’d said darkly, to make them eat each other. And he’d thrust a vial at her and asked her what the DNA most resembled after taking all those into account.
Cain had always been a great believer in evolution.
Crystal wished she had never done so.
Under her head, Kit stirred. She shifted her head, still pillowed on his warm body, keeping her eyes tight shut. Kit would have to know. But not now. Not yet.
Not until they were truly safe.
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Post by KitClairvoyance on Feb 6, 2009 20:09:33 GMT -5
For a long while, Kit didn't move. He had woken up from a jumbled dream of memories that made no sense, faces of the people he once called family plastered onto the bodies of Mythics like a collage of twisted humour. It was odd, he couldn't remember how his family looked like, and yet he was so sure it was them in his dream. There was one comfort in his memories about them though, and it was that they were all dead. He was glad that they would never have to go through the atrocities that he saw happening in the farm.
Crystal's warm weight shifted slightly, nestled snugly against him. He felt a little awkward with her curled on him, having never been romantically involved with another person. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted a relationship, it was more of that he never got a chance. He did remember a long crush he had on one of the girls in high school, but how long ago was that? Even her name didn't come to him anymore. Did it even matter anymore?
No, it probably didn't.
The bitter scent of carbon from the burnt trees settled around them in a silken haze, a reminder of the extent that the Mythics would go to enslave humans. He wondered how much higher the death toll would climb, there wasn't much left that the humans had to throw at the Mythics.
Ever since the invasion, Kit had been running from resistance camp to resistance camp, fighting the same losing battle each time. Never once had he seen a human victory, the Mythics were proving too strong, too numerous. It was irrational hope that saw Kit return again and again, hope that stemmed partly from some belief in God, partly from the old Sci-fi movies where humans always prevailed.
It was that same hope which made him place a hand on Crystal's shoulder, shaking her gently. They had to return to what remained of their hideout, they had to. The protagonists weren't supposed to die of hunger, and from there, they could try and contact the remaining resistance groups.
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