Growth and Lust Ch. 06 - Wicked One

Saffee turned to Teloo, shooting a thought to the woman as she returned to the cabin area.

Teloo was confused, but asked anyways, "Bakaree, may I have that pen?"

Bakaree nodded as she used her two lower hands to open the water, tossing the pen with her upper right and letting it sail towards the center of Teloos chest.

Teloo caught the pen and soon caught on to the question Perta had now planted in all of their minds.

'Which one of Bakarees hands is her dominant one?'

......

779 starred dumbfounded at the screen, seeing a now calm and quiet man thing sitting in the chamber that Peter was left in. She couldn't believe it, at first she thought the burning embers in the air were another sick treatment from Veronica. Then the blood splattering the walls signaled her to something very wrong inside. Followed by a cry that no human man should be able to make, it sounded hollow, like something waking up, echoing in a long tunnel as you felt an inkling urge to run.

Veronica however felt pure anger, scowling at the monitor as all the hard work she put in was thrown away. The thing that used to be Peter acting as if he felt nothing at all, she reached a hand out. Grasping the mop of curly hair on 779s head and yanking her, catching the head to clench her face in her hands. "You said he had a 'Red' arm." She hissed.

779s mouth hung open, trembling as she tried to answer, "Y-Yes-"

"STOP stuttering!" she boomed, squeezing 779 tightly.

"He had a red arm! When I found him, he had a red arm, like that womans! His coworker!" 779 cried.

Veronica spun 779 around and thrust her at the screen, the girls forehead hitting it and causing static to flicker for a moment. "Like these?"

779 was too close to focus on the image; the picture looked to pixilated, she could smell the static electricity as her hair met the screen. But she had seen what had happened, just as Veronica had seen it. "Yes." She whimpered out as she closed her eyes, knowing Peter now had a red left arm adorned in tattoos again. Along with a red left leg, both tipped in deadly claws, she opened her eyes again. Seeing the blurred and grainy image of the man looking up to the camera, a sad look on his face as those black eyes stared at her.

Veronica dropped the head, letting 779 fall to the table and roll on her side, her cheek resting on the cold surface. "Get in there, sedate him, and cut those things off." She demanded. She saw the worried eyes of the staff, looking at each other and then back to her. Feeling a knot in her stomach as she thought her authority was questioned. She picked up a book and threw it at the lot, "NOW!" she screamed, watching them scurry like roaches in the light.

Roke sat in the lonesome room, he couldn't bring himself to stand yet as he looked at the cold walls around him. Then feeling eyes on him he looked up to the camera again, focusing and seeing the intricate twists of the lens. Looking down again he counted the specs of dust that were on the floor in front of the rooms door. Then studying the ridges of the concrete chips that sat next to them, counting the ripples in them as he observed the crevices. He heard footsteps, quick but unsure, worried and fearful, the vibrations touching his flesh as he sat. Hushed whispers, his ears catching and processing the sounds of voices, visions of flapping tongues with air rushing past.

Lips twisting and working to form grunts and sounds that came out as words, human mouths speaking. Questions being asked with answers returned, so intricate as they mashed the meat of their faces to signal and communicate with one another. He had used verbal language all his life, besides body gestures and writing, that was how you communicated with those who could listen. But it felt so wrong now, like it was dishonest, not a full out lie to his face. But as if their flapping meat and rushing air didn't convey the entire truth.

The lock on the door turned, tumblers and gears syncing together as the metal locking mechanism was spun and the door was capable of free movement again. The handle of the door wailing so loudly to his sharp hearing as the absence of lubrication caused screaming cries of pain from the processed material.

A foot coming through the air, the turbulence of the wind buffeting against the sole of it as it thundered down. Shaking the room, sending signaling tremors through the walls and floor, traversing the concrete and feeding back into Rokes flesh as he waited. His eyes observing the small piece of concrete being dwarfed by the boot, disappearing to squeeze in between the rubber lugs on the bottom of it. Lodged to the point of being carried by the man. All of these things, signals to him, his brain processing and formulating with ease as he raised his head, the world itself seemed to whisper its secrets in his ear.

The pores on the visitors face opening, clear liquid escaping as it began to evaporate on his skin. The males chest heaving, lungs inside begging for air as they inflated and delivered oxygen to his blood. Blood that coursed through a series of veins, throbbing across his body as the clenching muscle inside beat like a drum.

'Is this Tallhee?' is this what it means to be one of them, to see everything in the world and use it as a piece of information. The fear they evoked was plausible to him now, as he looked at the sweating and fearful man that had entered his confines. How he had whispered to his partner from so far away, how his pounding heart showed his terror. This was a new world to Roke, was he the same though?

Jackson looked at the thing that sat on the floor, "Peter, lie on your stomach and-"

"I will not, and I recommend you close the door and go back to her. Tell her I am waiting." Roke said.

Jackson trembled but tried to steel himself, "Peter-" the word caught in his throat as he froze in fear.

*'Jackson!'*

The man standing in Peters cell remembered, hearing his mothers pleading voice in his head as he thought of his childhood.

*'Jackson, don't move, don't look it in the eyes-'*

Her usual melodic voice sounded so different in that moment, she pleaded with him at only eight years old to do as she asked. At that time it had been a large dog, mangy and brimming with muscles, a snarling maw with dead eyes staring at him as he stood in the street. Outside of his childhood home, on what should have been another carefree day, sun shining and a cool fall breeze in his hair. Jackson loved the fall, the way the days were still warm and the nights could get so cold. But that didn't matter, the dead eyes of the four-legged animal looking at him like he was food, sustenance for something higher on the food chain.

He felt that helpless terror again, as what used to be Peter now stood in front of him, the black pools with blue rings staring into his soul. He hadn't blinked, hadn't looked away he was sure of it, but now here they were. It had crossed the room faster than imaginable, standing just inches in front of him and giving him that same look. He tried to get his lungs to inhale, his heart sounded so loud in his own ears. All he could do was listen to what his mother told him, turning his eyes slowly away. He couldn't look at this thing, not in the eyes, he winced as he saw its maw. Why were its fangs so sharp, what kind of flesh did it mean to tear into with them?

"Jackson." It said.

He flinched, his eyes burning as he knew it was the end.

"Your mother loved you."

Jackson remembered how tightly she squeezed him when the dog finally ran away, how she didn't scold him for soiling himself. How her tears soaked into his hair and clothes, her swaddling love gripping him so tightly. But still it wasn't enough, he pushed into her, tried to bury himself in her heart, the only place on that planet that could be safe.

"Leave here, before she comes."

Jacksons mind raced, thinking of Veronica.

"No."

He felt something dripping from his eyes, streaming down and dampening his cheeks as inkling cold crept up his spine.

"The mother of my children, will not be so kind."

Jackson felt a hand press into his chest, then his feet disconnecting from the floor as he was launched backwards. Weightless for a moment before he connected with the wall on the other side of the hallway, his partner lying right next to him. Both staring at the thing in the doorway, he watched as it took the thick and straight outside doorknob in its grip. Then ripped it off, moving slowly as if it was a piece of paper, tearing metal wailing as the stainless-steel handle was removed.

He watched the things rigid figure step back, its left arm and leg were so red, tattoos circling the appendages. Stripes of red across his body, every scar that once was gnarled flesh was now replaced as its naked form seemed so oppressive. The eyes, why did they look like that, why did they feel like a twisting knife to his insides and make him feel so much pain.

This thing was truly a beast, a monster.

A beast meant to hunt.

Meant to kill.

Meant to feast.

Jackson watched the door slam shut, the monster hidden away as it went back to waiting, then another loud bang from it and the entire door seemed to shift. Becoming crooked in the door jamb, he finally felt air return to his lungs. His body doing the only thing it could do, Jackson rolling to his side and then landing on his hands and knees. Vomiting his last meal onto the concrete floor of the hallway.

......

Bakaree glared at Saffee who was holding the book to allow her to sign her name and give a "heartfelt" message inside. She had begged her to sign in the crews logbook, but the entire thing seemed to be empty. She used her lower right hand to work the pen, rolling her eyes as Gresh offered another bottle of water.

"Here Bakaree, hydration is important." He said as he let the bottle fly.

She snatched it out of the air with her upper left arm, then hearing Teloo ask her a question.

"Do you mind if I have that bottle, Bakaree?"

Bakaree dropped the bottle from her upper left hand, letting her lower left hand catch it and then swing out. Wrapping around her back and tossing the bottle to Teloo who was behind her right side, seeing the woman catch it.

Reedus suddenly walked up next to Saffee, "Bakaree, please sign my passenger log!"

Bakaree was about to protest when she watched the woman open it up and toss a pen at her. Catching it with her lower left and pursing her lips as she began to write.

Reedus and Saffee looked at each other, then back at Bakaree to watch her write in both books with her lower right and left hands simultaneously. The font and style of each hand almost identical, save for the leaning angle of her 'e's and the rounding of her 'B's.

As Teloo stood behind her she raised her hands with palms up, the universal signal of 'What the fuck?'

'I thought upper right.' Gresh thought to her.

'Lower left.' Reedus chimed in.

'Watch, she's gonna start writing with her feet den.' Saffee chided.

Reedus snorted at the mental joke.

"Wait, what the fuck is going on!?" Bakaree said as she stopped working her hands. She scowled at the rest of the crew, seeing them all hide their smiles and playing innocent. "Spill it." She hissed to Saffee, seeing her on the verge of laughing as she trembled slightly.

"Bah HA!" Saffee bellowed as she held her sides and tried to hide her face.

Reedus laughed and stepped back, not wanting to catch the hands of the Mohreb in case she was too angry.

Bakaree watched Gresh smile and look down, then hearing a soft giggle she looked back at Teloo, seeing her still clutching the bottle of water. "What?!"

Teloo cleared her throat, "I'm sorry, we do not mean to chastise you, it's just..." Teloo felt a laugh brimming to the surface. About to bust out in a fit of teasing joy as she couldn't stand looking at the angry yellow face.

"Which one-?" Saffee tried to say.

Bakaree turned to look at her.

"Dominant-" Gresh squealed.

Reedus almost doubled over in laughter, pointing at Bakarees legs, "F-fff-Fee~t-!" she got out before laughing hysterically.

Bakaree stood in the center of the cackling red fools, "Most feared in all the galaxy." She murmured as she shook her head, "-and they're idiots." She extended her upper arms and used her lower hands to make the same 'What the fuck' salute Teloo had made. Seeing this caused them to laugh harder.

In the bunk room Ginrar occupied there was no laughing, the air felt cold and remorseful. She sat cross legged on the floor, the bag of salt dumped in front of her. She took the water bottle that was next to her, touching it to her lips and tipping it back, guzzling it down and finishing it. She let it fall and join the other empty carcasses that surrounded her. She reached towards the pile, pinching the salt and then raising it to her face next. Catching it on her tongue, bringing the writhing member back in and pressing hard into the roof of her mouth.

She looked to the one in front of her, seeing him still and cross legged as well, his steel like eyes watching the pile of salt.

"You should not be here."

"I go where I'm needed." Perta responded.

"She will be angry." Ginrar said.

"She'll only be angry, if you give her a reason to be."

Ginrar watched him, wondering why he sat here, then seeing inside his mind as he remembered something.

A child standing alone in a round hut, the remains of ash in a fire bowl as it sat cold, the crimson life of family adorning the walls. Death all around him, so cold, wanting for something, touch? Something like it but more, warmth, warmth for the soul. Steel eyes that looked so pained, that didn't accept the answer that was put in front of him.

Alone.

Ginrar narrowed her eyes, about to speak.

"There is a lower level to the estate."

Ginrar hesitated, seeing concrete floors winding around, following his memory as he walked the halls of the hellish property.

"Up above, you'll find many rooms, the fathers is the west end. A study, books, servants that work the home and enjoy the life. The east is the daughters, colder, wicked and damp, like the air goes stale in your lungs."

Ginrar could see it all, sharply walking through the halls and witnessing the home.

*The limp female figure on the bed.*

Ginrar winced at the vision, it was only for a moment but the carcass was clear.

"Security cameras run through the estate, linking back to one room, one guard is posted inside. He rotates out every three hours, the system watches the entire estate, but noise and occupancy sensors change the guards camera. Allowing him to see what ever area has the most disruption, all though this may have changed, when I was there this is how it was." Perta said to her.

Ginrar nodded.

*'What did you do, Peter?' Perta asked, not wanting to see Savanna like this.*

"The shuttle port isn't in the main estate, but a tunnel underneath connects it, it's only an eighth of a mile away and has guards posted at the front with personnel inside."

*'She wouldn't let me go.' Peter said shakily.*

Perta focused on the estate, "There's guards at the front gate and roving patrols going around the perimeter of the main estate. Cameras on the inside monitor the grounds, but nothing is forwarded to law enforcement, it's easier for lawsuits. If the security teams get too aggressive..."

*'You killed her, Peter.' Perta said.*

"Not all the guards who work there are bad though, most of these people could only escape their lives by joining their security team. They allow most anyone in, the working staff is different though. Maids and cooks, cleaners and nursing staff. There's an onsite hospital that can do most anything, the late wife used to enjoy helping lame racehorses or other injured animals."

*Savanna laid on the bed, blood staining her nose and mouth as the black fabric wrapped around her neck. Claw marks in her skin by her own hand, her eyes dead and hollow, her pants gone and her underwear askew.*

Ginrars palm slammed into the floor, denting the steel of it as she snarled at the salt. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, diving her fingers into the salt and balling her fist for another taste of it. "Does it upset you?"

Perta swallowed, looking at the questioning woman. "What?"

"I see it."

Perta felt sweat prick on his forehead.

"Her carcass."

Perta gulped.

"On the bed." She hissed, licking the fingers of her balled fist as salt spilled and showered back down to the floor.

Perta scolded himself for not hiding it away, the vision of Savanna used and thrown away on the bed. He had heard how she was the main tool to get the men to sign away their rights, had even done the same to him. But to see her like that, it made his stomach twist.

"I've taken so many-" Ginrar swirled the salt in her maw, pressing it hard into the roof of her mouth as it stung the corners of her lips.

Perta was about to question what she meant when she spoke again.

"-Lives." She ran her tongue over her fangs, "So many have fallen by my hand. Snuffed out, my own or those that feared me. It matters little."

Perta felt himself clench up as she looked at him, those burning rings reduced to the smallest sliver of hell like fire.

"One life taken for love. Another taken for freedom. The last taken for obscurity."

Perta watched as Ginrar leaned forward, her fingers touching the floor, claws scratching steel with her arms bending, muscles flexing as they took up her weight.

"One life given."

He leaned back as he watched her legs uncross, her toes spreading and her wicked form lifting from the floor. Her writhing visage of death incarnate coming forward like water flowing to follow the pull of gravity, encompassing him as she glared at him. 'Why is she looking at me like that, what is that in her eyes?'

"One more life."

Perta fell backwards to his elbows, eyes wide as he looked up to her, his own reflection in those daunting hollow holes.

"My life." She whispered, as if it was a secret just for him.

Perta nearly screamed as he heard the door open, the hissing hydraulics echoing off the walls of the shuttle. He flailed and twisted as he tried to get his legs uncrossed, looking up and seeing Bakaree looking down at him. She instantly kneeled and grabbed his shoulders, yanking him up to pull him to her chest.

"Perta! What's wrong?!" Bakaree questioned, her eyes becoming ferocious with angered worry as she glared at Ginrar.

Perta looked at her and then looked at the thing across from him, seeing Ginrar sitting where she was originally. One elbow resting on her knee with her legs crossed, the other hand pinching salt, bringing it to her lips. Partaking in the lip twisting feast of the damned while her eyes stared at the pile.

Bakaree wasn't sure what happened, coming to the room after hearing a crash on the floor, not finding Perta anywhere in the shuttle. She opened the door and saw Ginrar on the other side of the room, stoically waiting for time to pass. Bakaree thought she frightened Perta as she opened the door, she wondered what they were speaking about but just decided to get him out of the room. Seeing he was frightened and confused, she pulled him up and guided him out.

They entered the main cabin area, seeing what once were smiling Tallhee faces looking at Perta nervously. Then back at one another, silence hanging in the air until Saffee finally broke it.

"You need to tell her, tell them both."

Teloo furrowed her brow, not wanting to hinder the two from helping.

'You swore your life.' Bakaree snarled at her mentally. "What's going on in there, what's she doing."

Teloo closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before finally speaking. "Ginrar...has made the promise to consume." She paused, wondering how to convey the importance of this to them. She could see Saffee was glaring at her, remembering how the woman had demanded that she intervene with Ginrars promise. Teloo thought Saffee was going to snap when she denied her demand, but Gresh was the one she almost caved to.