#i need this so badly i would claw out my eyeballs and pop them in my mouth like grapes if that were a requirement
Note
girl to ADD to that clit spanking thing, he does it multiple times instead of spanking your arse and you end up accidentally coming (without permission and he is FURIOUS)
waking up to this prompt was a transcendental experience. i had to reread this a few times over so as to make sure that it was real. lacking any poetry, simply put, i need to state — this is everything.
he's already irritated with your behavior and noncompliance beyond belief, and therefore merely intent on punishing you for the time being. let's say you were being so bratty and had been talking back to him so profusely that he just halted mid-stroke, pulled out, and flipped you on your back. now his palms are firmly braced around you; the two of you are breathy, hot bodies still in quivering coalescence with one another. you're stunned due to having been pulled out of so rapidly, palpitating vigorously and driving your thighs closer together as a result — your orgasm had been looming so closely mere seconds prior.
henry isn't letting you shut your legs on him, however, instead prying them back apart. he blows a gust of cool air unto your clit, at which you give a succession of hearty throbs, and wait for him to choose his next move. it comes within the next few intakes of breath — he slaps it. dismayed, you draw air briskly and let your mouth hang agape, and for a good reason — he strikes again, and again, and again. his palm is relentless upon the most sensitive part of your body, and because you had already been so undeniably close before, you give in to the grandiose shudder of your orgasm and come.
due to your formerly bratty disposition, you let the fact be known to him as obviously and provocatively as you can manage — you moan out with obscene volume, trembling beneath him as the bliss rolls through your body in sweltering, billowing waves.
in response, he is aghast. although it is astonishment his face is scrunched up in at first, it is quickly veiled by ire instead. he's angry — muscle-twitchingly so. appalled, he pulls away and drags his palm across his face, "god damn you. aren't you aware that you're not supposed to enjoy a punishment?" his voice is dangerously low and silent — one could even say he's at a loss for words.
as a result of this pattern of noncompliance and brazenness, you're not fucked again that night. in fact, you only get to see him getting himself off right in front of your eyes, panting and groaning on his merry own — something he never does but is forced to resort to due to your shameless misbehavior. you, on the other hand, are not touched anew even once; his justification for the lack of contribution is that you've already come before, and it must be enough — he doesn't listen to a single whimper, whine, or plea.
next time, you keep in mind to be a little more respectful.
#henry winter smut#henry winter imagine#henry winter x reader#henry winter thirst#indulgent thoughts#astrum asks#i took a nap and woke up to this ask#it changed the trajectory of my life#holy fucking shit#i need this so badly i would claw out my eyeballs and pop them in my mouth like grapes if that were a requirement
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The Path: A Tale of Trick or Treating -Duke (10/15)
Sanders Sides: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil, Deceit, Remus
Sanders Shorts: Remy (Sleep)
Cartoon Therapy: Emile Picani
Blurb: You’ve been trick or treating at the Sanders Side’s homes for as long as you can remember, but this year things get a bit more…complicated.
Fic Type: Halloween, Adventure
Chapter 10 Warnings: Duke, Corpses, Haunted House related scaring, blood, mangled body parts, Death Talk
Author’s Note: This fic is told in Second Person.
Previous Houses: Remus(1) Patton(2) Emile(3) Remy(4) ???(5) Logan(6) Roman(7) Virgil(8) Diva(9)
NO NO NO NO!
You swore you’d never go back.
Surely you wouldn need to--you didn’t hav--you’d already grabbed the marbles from The Duke! You’d given them to Roman. That was what had started you on The Path in the first place! Surely that meant you wouldn’t have to revisit him for a terrorizing second time. Right? Right.
You had Roman’s Coin. You were good to go. You could skip this part. Yes. It would be fine. Just. Fine. You just needed to now find the pirate who had lost his golden coin and you could move on.
With that thought in mind you march purposely in the other direction in search of pirates as you leave the Diva’s brightly lit place.
Yet nine blocks and three turns later, you find yourself once again on the threshold of his domain, staring up the creepy long driveway that led to the Duke’s haunted porch because the stupid niggling question of What If wouldn’t leave your mind.
You hadn’t had the Diva’s token the first time around. What if...if giving the Juice to the Duke meant that he would give you something else you needed or even all the marbles in the skull? Maybe Roman’s chalice had to be completely full for the Path to even work right and--
You swallow, briefly closing your eyes, all too aware that you’re delaying the inevitable. Your curiosity is too strong.
Stomach twisting, you carefully stash your bucket of hard earned candy out of sight in the nearby bushes, but not before you pull out the chocolate coins Roman had given you.
You slip them into a different pocket from the gold dollar as you straighten, clutching the bottle of Apple Juice tightly to your chest so you wouldn’t accidentally drop it. “I got this.” You whisper as you take the first step into the Duke’s yard. If all else fails, you hope to use the fake coins as a distraction to give you time to get away.
Get in. Get out. You chant to yourself, doing your best to ignore the creeping shadows, shaking skeletons and shrieks far too close to your ear for comfort as you briskly walk up the driveway, steeling yourself to confront the headless bloody corpse once more.
“Want some candy?”
You shriek, nearly dropping the apple juice despite yourself as the Headless Corpse jumps from the bushes halfway up the driveway, grinning skull already glowing menacingly.
He cackles, lunging forward. “How about the JUICY STUFF?!” He roars, the eye on his shoulder spinning like crazy.
You scream again and instinctively fling yourself backwards to get away from the horror attacking you, only to stumble over your own feet and fall to the ground, tangling yourself in a display of skeletons in the process.
Trapped.
The corpse cackles, singing as he looms over you. “Mine. Mine. All Mine. For ever and ever.”
That’s it.
You’re dead.
Dead. Dead. DEAD!
You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut, holding the apple juice up in front of you as a feeble barrier against him.
The Duke is totally going to kill you. He’ll suck out your blood, eat your liver and make jelly from your brains and then leave your skeleton here among the rest as a warning to all other trick or trea---
“Is that…” A soft voice whispers. “Appley juice?”
You crack open an eye, peering up at the headless corpse, the demonic eyes of the skull muted to a mossy color as it stares at you.
“Yes.” You squeak out, certain your heart is gonna stop any second now. “F-for y-y-you.”
The Corpse sharply inhales, skull eyes flashing a bright green as he plops down cross legged in front of you, dropping the head into his lap as his bloody torso leans forward, hands outstretched. “Mine?”
Okay...maybe death isn’t quite so certain. Swallowing, you shakily push the bottle at him, flinching as your fingers brush his clammy ones. “Here.”
Greedily he takes it, unscrewing the lid in one quick motion and lifts it up to where his head should have been, pouring the liquid directly into the cavity of his torn throat.
You feel yourself pale further watching the sticky juice splash off the severed neck and dribble down the stump as a loud smacking sound is heard from within the Corpse’s chest.
“Now THAT’s-” The chest bulges like an alien is trying to claw its way out, and maybe that’s exactly what’s happening because a head, though very much human, alive, and familiar looking, explodes out of the center of the corpses chest. “the JUICY STUFF!” He exclaims with a huge grin, juice dripping from his mustache that looks cartoony enough you can’t tell if it’s real or badly glued on.
“Ah.” You eloquently respond because you can’t stop staring at the man. Roman had told you he had a brother, but he hadn’t exactly mentioned that they were freaking twins. With the exception of the stalker stache, The Duke looked exactly like Roman and you weren’t sure you liked it.
He claps his hands together, giggling to himself. “Ahhhhhhh? Ah. AHHHHHHHH! YES!!” The Duke grabs your wrist, somehow easily pulling you free from the tangle of skeleton bones before you can blink. “Come! Come!” Holding his skull under one arm the Duke practically drags you not to the front of the house, but around the side, away from any peering eyes.
He suddenly stops before you can gather your wits enough to fight and against him and you nearly fall into him as he whirls to you, the whites of his eyes practically glowing in the shadow of the house. “You know what Adam and Eve got when they fell?” The Duke asks, leaning in too close to you, his breath smelling like apples.
You gape at him, mind drawing a blank. “...Hurt?”
“Knowledge!” He holds the grinning skull high over his head and shakes it so that the remaining marbles inside rattle ominously. “But!” He spins in a circle. “You know what’s bad about knowledge?”
You fidget in place, wondering if you had actually died back with the skeletons because the Duke---was weird. Bad about knowledge? You’d always heard that knowledge was power and that power corrupts. “What?” You hesitantly ask, not sure you actually want to know the answer.
“It always comes with--” He suddenly stops spinning, and jabs a finger at you. “A price.” He smirks, rubbing his fingers together.
You frown, shaking your head. “But I gave you the apple juice!”
“And you stole my marbles!” He plops down on the grass in front of you with a soft wail as his head vanishes back into the torso of the corpse. “I’ve lost my mind!”
Was this guy for real? How could--“It’s not stealing if you offered!” You argue back. He had said to TAKE THEM.
“And I said to GIVE THEM BACK.” He roars, the demonic glow coming into the skulls eyes, its jaw seeming to twist into a grin as the Corpse shoots to his feet and lunges at you again.
You shriek, stumbling backwards. “But I don’t HAVE THEM!” Your voice rises in pitch as your back hits the wall of the house.
“GIVE!” The Duke cries as he advances, the eyeball on his shoulder spinning like a crazy top again. “GIVE!”
But you don’t HAVE them. Desperately you search your pockets, and pull out the handful of golden coins you’d grabbed for this kind of moment. “HERE! I BOUGHT THEM! HERE!” You screech over the Duke’s own yells, throwing the chocolate at the hole in his chest.
The corpse stumbles back a step at the onslaught of gold and the Duke suddenly pops his head out of the hole in the chest, one chocolate coin in his mouth. Slowly, staring you down, he pulls the coin fully into his mouth and eats it, foil and all.
You shakily inhale, glad he’s stopped yelling. “Does that work, Duke?” You say, proud that your voice hardly shakes.
If you ever get away from this guy, you definitely are never coming back.
Loudly he swallows, smacking his lips before he bares his teeth in a chocolate covered smile as the glowing eyes in the skull vanish, leaving black holes in their place. “TREASURE!!” He giggles and thrusts the skull into your chest. “You do have a good head on your shoulders. Have a second for double the trouble!”
You barely grab it before it tumbles to the ground, warmth tingling along the skull’s edges as you get a good hold on it.
Was that it?
Was that all?
He pulls out another coin that had made it into the hole in his chest and takes a bite, loudly chewing as he stares you down.
That had to be it. This had to be your opening. You had the marbles. That’s what you needed. Right? Right.
“Uh...Thanks, Duke.” You say nodding to him, edging along the side of the house.
He cocks his head, looking oddly childlike before he softly says. “Remus.”
You pause, momentarily distracted. “Remus?”
He nods, popping the rest of the coin into his mouth. “My name--will you bring more Appley Juice next year?”
Your eyebrows raise at the odd request. Surely the guy could buy his own Apple Juice from the store whenever he wanted to right?
“Will you not scare me next year?” You find yourself asking. Because there was no way you’d venture in here again otherwise. Not when you intended to finish this Path tonight.
He pouts, looking at the ground, using his foot to poke at a coin that had missed its mark when you’d thrown it. “A case of Appley Juice and I won’t.” He bargains looking up.
A case?!
There was no way you’d lug that much juice around while trick or treating! The Diva had only given you one--would he give you more or just stick with the one if you had to do this whole crazy path thing next year?
“Three bottles.” You offer. You could carry two if The Diva gave you the third.
His eyes brighten, the one on his shoulder swishing up and down. “Twelve!”
Remus really liked his apple juice apparently. “I’ll do Six...and you get one scream from me.” You reluctantly offer. You could handle the extra weight for a while and a little scaring. Maybe.
The Du--Remus claps his hands together cackling as he dances in place, the eye on his shoulder blinking rapidly. “DONE!” He spins away still dancing. “Appley juice appley juice all the juice juice JUICY STUFF!!” He sings.
You let out a breath, the tension in your shoulders fading as you hug the skull to your chest. Great you’d made a deal with a crazy man. You shake your head and turn to get the heck out of this place before the Duke did something else completely--
“As tangled as the vines may be.” Remus sings behind you, barely loud enough for you to hear.
You freeze nearly dropping the marbles as the words ring in your head like a gong. You whirl back to him. “What did you just say?” You demand, almost breathlessly. Those had been the words on Dr. Picani’s fortune. You were sure of it. But how did the Duke know what yours had said?!
Remus smirks, eyes glittering as he leans nonchalantly against the house, picking at the hole in his chest, but doesn’t repeat himself as the eye on his shoulder swivels to stare directly at you.
Another challenge?! Couldn’t the Duke just...well let you leave without throwing constant curveballs at you?
You lick your lips desperately trying to recall what the rest of fortune had said. It had been about---dragon--no Fire. About Flames--colored--”Rainbow flames--uh--” You hunch your shoulders, trying to think of how it went. It rhymed with be. What rhymed--”Rainbow flames will…” you lift your head, staring him down. “set you free.”
The eye flashes green then red before it closes. Remus bounces on his toes, nodding energetically. “Only if you properly feed the Beast!” He reaches into his shirt and pulls out a large bag of candy, tossing at you.
You nearly drop the skull as you try to catch it, feeling multiple smaller objects moving within the red plastic.
“Skittles?” You ask as the light from your bracelet catches the white lettering on the package.
He grins, giving you a wink. “Fit for a King, though not for my Brother.” He blows you a kiss, wiggling his fingers. “Give my regards to the Seer Saint!” Remus twirls like a ballerina before darting off into the darkness. “Ta Te Ta!”
On to the Next House
Prince(11) Picani(12) Logic(13) Deceit(14) ???(15)
Taglist in Reblog.
#The Path: A Tale of Trick or Treating#stillebesat#Sanders Sides#Remus#Duke#corpse tw#blood tw#Haunted House tw#scary things related to haunted houses#scaring tw#mangled body parts tw#death talk tw#Halloween#Trick or Treat#2nd person pov
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Space Orc and Yzin do the pack bond thing
“Well, fuck,” David said, staring at the little block letters in front of him.
“This is is literally a game made out of your own language,” Yzin pointed out.
“Shut up! Scrabble is fucking hard, okay?” David ran a hand over his no longer neatly shaved scalp, the mostly salt of his salt and pepper stubble glinting in the deliberately low-powered lights.
David was saved from having to make his turn by the response to their distress beacon. It was a Too’orlian response, so he let Yzin go through the script while he secreted certain necessary items about his person. He had a few last minute thoughts, and ended up using the thirty-eight seconds before boarding to secrete a few items onto Yzin’s person as well. He was quite proud of himself, as he lay face down on the emergency shuttle with his hands cuffed and his ankles cuffed and linked to his wrists as well, all behind his back. Hog tied, he thought to himself.
“Carefull,” And “Humans” were about all he was able to pick up from the Too’orlian, but he didn’t trouble himself too much with understanding them. Yzin would find a way to tell him something, if he needed to know it.
He didn’t struggle at all as they hauled him into the cage pit, and even lay docile when they locked him in his own cage. Yzin was only two cages over, with a group of badly wilted X’ining.
He couldn’t see it, past the glimpse he’d caught, but he could picture it; one brightly clean but badly scarred bird huddled protectively in front of a mass of filthy yellow feathers and grungy beaks, all of them staring out of their cage with wide orange eyes as big as his fist.
The Too’orlian guards didn’t have any interest in birds, thank the powers that be.
David caught the word for “human” a couple of times, as they hovered outside his cage, talking and gesticulating with their claws. He wasn’t sure what had been in the cage before himself, but he knew shit stank, and tried to curl himself up to look small and pitiful and helpless. Either it worked or it didn’t, but either way, the guards left.
David spat out the magnetic wire he’d had in his mouth, and shuffled himself around so that he could pick his own locks.
He knew Yzin had gotten out by the quiet ruffling of alarm from the other cages; he forced the triumph of being right to the side, and worked patiently at getting his hands and legs free.
By the time he had his legs free, the guards were back, and he just couldn’t help himself.
“Did you guys know, you look exactly like lobsters? I mean, maybe not exactly, but close enough, y’know? Lobster is really good eatin’, on Earth. We have whole parties where we tie on some bibs and bust open some shells. Did you know we steam you while you’re still alive before we eat you? I always wondered if I might be allergic to Too’orlian, since my dad had shellfish allergy. But what can you do, right? I haven’t had any problems eating lobster. Probably gonna be the best fine dining experience I’ve ever had, a steamed Too’orlian.”
That sent them off in a hurry, so their translators were definitely working. He’d gotten his hands unlocked by the time they came back with the captain. That’ll work nicely, he thought.
“You threat to eat Too’orlian, puny?” The Captain said, crouching down close to the bars of the cage.
David whipped his hand forward, grabbed the captain by his shell, and yanked back through the bars as hard as he could. Meat ripped, tendons popped, and eyeballs burst. Yzin dropped out of the air vent, landed on her feet, scrabbled into the fray, and plucked a pistol out of its holster.
Then she shot all of them.
“That really took a lot longer than necessary,” David commented, as he shouldered the discarded rifles.
“Stop complaining and start bypassing the electro-magnetic pulse relay that’s going to turn that substandard rifle into a pulse cannon, you absolute moron.”
Yzin nipped his fingers with her beak, and he laughed as he relayed the wires.
“You ready?” David asked, as she hoisted herself up onto his shoulder and pulled the modified cannon up so that the impact would be taken on the back of his shoulder while she held the muzzle and pulled the trigger.
“I own your six,” Yzin said, and David laughed as he released the latch into the main of the ship.
“We are the masters of our unconquerable soul.” David smirked at her, before he threw open the hatch and started firing.
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Student Awareness of Nonstandard Danger Society
“Coach...Coach?” Joe looked around, then knelt down by Mister Niewitzski’s body. He tried to remember the first aid training he’d taken in Boy Scouts - wow, had it really been two years since his last meeting? - and checked for a pulse. Where was it? No, wait, that wasn’t where you checked for it, it was -
“Joe, is he...?” He felt Stella’s hand on his shoulder.
“He’s not dead,” Joe said, having found no evidence to support that statement. “We’ve gotta go. Someone’s got to have heard the gunshots, someone will have called them in, even if the chainsaw might have just been a scary movie.”
“We’re not just leaving him - ”
“Yeah, Stella, we are. He told me to. He had a plan for this, just like everything. Get Mario and get the stuff into the van.”
“What about the truck?”
Joe looked over at the tractor-trailer. His head was swimming in panic and his body in low-grade pain not completely dulled by adrenaline, but he figured they needed to cover their tracks now, more than anything. “Burn it.”
Stella half-grinned in spite of herself, and ran back towards van and truck. Joe leaned down and pulled the assault rifle with door-breaching shotgun from Mister Niewitzski’s stiff, but warm, hands. He wondered for a moment about the “gunshot residue” he had heard about on crime shows, and decided to also peel off the man’s gloves, and then used a knife to cut off the sleeves of the already badly mangled FBI jacket. He crammed all those things in his duffel bag and turned back towards the van, now illuminated by the blazing fire consuming the truck, while Stella laughed like a madwoman.
Joe chose not to process that image right at the moment, and climbed into the back of the van. Mario was sitting in there, holding his sides in pain. He looked up at Joe as he got in; Joe answered his question preemptively:
“Mister Niewitzski’s alive. We’re calling him an ambulance and getting the hell out of here.”
“Okay, I’ve got my - ”
“No, Mario, he was very specific on how we made the call.”
Stella had come down off her pyromaniacal high and had appeared at the back of the van, tossing her flamethrower backpack in with them. Joe rifled through the duffle bag Niewitzski had identified, and motioned for Stella to drive as he began to root around for what he needed.
“He’s so paranoid...” Craig said, shaking his head.
Mario shrugged. “Well, it seems like bad shit happens to him, Homes, a lot. Can you blame the guy?”
Stella climbed into the driver’s seat and put the van in gear. “Okay, SANDS, commencing tactic alpha-three: GTFO! No one left anything behind, right?”
Five glum expressions and five glum silences responded to Stella’s question. Tracey reached over and pulled the back doors of the van shut.
“Here we go,” Joe muttered, slipping on the voice changer and warbling like a cyborg. He made the universal gesture for shutting up to the others, and dialed 911.
“The road near the stadium - a bystander was caught in the crossfire. Wrong costume, wrong place, wrong time. Regrettable. Given medical attention, he will survive. Hurry.” And then Joe snapped the phone, and hurled it out the window, onto the interstate, watching it smash into a few more pieces and then get run over by a truck into quite a few more.
He felt the eyes of the others looking at him, as he pulled off the voice changer. “What?”
Mario raised an eyebrow. “He give you that script?”
“Uh? No, no script. Just improvising. Just tried to think of what sort of bullshit he’d say if he had to do it, and ran with it.”
“Language, Joe,” Tracey said without much enthusiasm. “So, what do we do now?”
Mario rubbed his temples with both hands, trying to stare through the mental fog. “Okay, first thing is, we can absolutely not know what went down tonight. Whatever happens to Mister Niewitzski has to be as much a surprise to us as to everyone else, or the jig is definitely up.” Everyone nodded. “Joe, did he...did he say anything to you about what to do next?”
Joe frowned. “After telling me how to call him an ambulance, he said that if he was alive, we’d debrief on Monday. He said that if he wasn’t, Stella would take charge.”
“Really?” Stella’s voice had a note of surprise.
“He also said that it was my job to keep you from getting us all killed.”
“He did not!”
“He did.”
“What a load of crap! He’s the lunatic who tried to play stuntman and tuck-and-roll up the front of a monster with tentacle-spikes for eyeballs! Why I - ”
Joe chuckled, not actually feeling much mirth. “We can work it out on Monday.” He said, with no desire to think of how. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he lied.
“RIght.” Stella’s voice had lost some energy, but she came clawing back to enthusiasm. “Well! I’ll drop everyone off, we can all get some sleep, and then you can come to my Halloween party tomorrow! We’ll be the only ones who know that it’s back on, so...yeah. Uh, hey, will everyone be fine getting dropped off?” She looked in the rear view mirror.
Mario shrugged. “I’ve covered for my older brothers, they can cover for me for a change. You, Craig?”
Craig made about the same gesture, looking more sheepish. “I think as long as Dad thinks I just was out hanging out with friends and getting into normal kinds of trouble, he’ll cover for me with Mom. Tracey?”
She popped a hard candy into her mouth and looked pensive. “They’ll pretend to not have noticed I was gone, and then set up a lot of traps to try to catch me in a lie later.” Craig, Mario, and Joe all winced. Stella frowned.
“Okay, then, Freshman Washington. Sounds like you need a cover story. As it turns out, your Sophomore got word of an impending prank against you for Halloween, and talked you into launching a preemptive counterstrike against the suspects tonight.”
“Won’t you still get in trouble for that?” Mario asked.
Tracey gave a weak smile. “Not as much trouble as going downtown to fight actual monsters. And I can just confess to this right away and avoid a few days of head games.”
Mario nodded. “Okay, yeah, I can see that. I guess parents are parents are parents. What about you two?”
Stella kept her eyes on the road, with a smile forced on her face. “I am very unsupervised.”
“Camp,” Joe muttered. He didn’t elaborate at this point. His headache was bad enough.
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Chapter Thirty-One
“Well, fuck,” David said, staring at the little block letters in front of him.
“This is is literally a game made out of your own language,” Yzin pointed out.
“Shut up! Scrabble is fucking hard, okay?” David ran a hand over his no longer neatly shaved scalp, the mostly salt of his salt and pepper stubble glinted in the deliberately low-powered lights.
David was saved from having to make his turn by the response to their distress beacon. It was a Too’orlian response, so he let Yzin go through the script while he secreted certain necessary items about his person. He had a few last minute thoughts, and ended up using the thirty-eight seconds before boarding to secrete a few items onto Yzin’s person as well. He was quite proud of himself, as he lay face down on the emergency shuttle with his hands and ankles cuffed and linked together, all behind his back. Hogtied, he thought to himself.
“Carefull,” and “Humans” were about all he was able to pick up from the Too’orlian, but he didn’t trouble himself too much with understanding them. Yzin would find a way to tell him something, if he needed to know it.
He didn’t struggle at all as they hauled him into the cage pit, and even lay docile when they locked him in his own cage. Yzin was only two cages over, with a group of badly wilted X’ining.
He couldn’t see it, past the glimpse he’d caught, but he could picture it; one brightly clean but badly scarred bird huddled protectively in front of a mass of filthy yellow feathers and grungy beaks, all of them staring out of their cage with wide orange eyes as big as his fist.
David caught the word for “human” a couple of times, as they hovered outside his cage, talking and gesticulating with their claws. He wasn’t sure what had been in the cage before himself, but he knew shit stank, and tried to curl himself up to look small and pitiful and helpless. Either it worked or it didn’t, but the guards left.
David spat out the magnetic wire he’d had in his mouth, and shuffled himself around so that he could pick his own locks.
He knew Yzin had gotten out by the quiet ruffling of alarm from the other cages; he forced the triumph of being right to the side, and worked patiently at getting his hands and legs free.
By the time he had his legs free, the guards were back, and he just couldn’t help himself.
“Did you guys know, you look exactly like lobsters? I mean, maybe not exactly, but close enough, y’know? Lobster is really good eatin’, on Earth. We have whole parties where we tie on some bibs and bust open some shells. Did you know we steam you while you’re still alive before we eat you? I always wondered if I might be allergic to Too’orlian, since my dad had a shellfish allergy. But what can you do, right? I haven’t had any problems eating lobster. Probably gonna be the best fine dining experience I’ve ever had, a steamed Too’orlian.”
That sent them off in a hurry, so their translators were definitely working. He’d gotten his hands unlocked by the time they came back with the captain. That’ll work nicely, he thought.
“You threat to eat Too’orlian, puny?” The Captain said, crouching down close to the bars of the cage.
David whipped his hand forward, grabbed the captain by his shell, and yanked back through the bars as hard as he could. Meat ripped, tendons popped, and eyeballs burst. Yzin dropped out of the air vent, landed on her feet, scrambled into the fray, and plucked a pistol out of its holster.
Then she shot all of them.
“That really took a lot longer than necessary,” David commented, as he shouldered the discarded rifles.
“Stop complaining and start bypassing the electromechanical relay that’s going to turn that substandard rifle into a cannon, you absolute moron.”
Yzin nipped his fingers with her beak, and he laughed as he relayed the wires.
“You ready?” David asked, as she hoisted herself up onto his shoulder and pulled the modified cannon up so that the impact would be taken on the back of his shoulder while she held the muzzle and pulled the trigger.
“I own your six,” Yzin said, and David laughed as he released the latch into the main of the ship.
“We are the masters of our unconquerable soul.” David smirked at her, before he threw open the hatch and started firing.
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