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KP - Episode 9 (Public)
🕑 Added 2023-09-13 10:08:35 +0000 UTCWords Count: 5029
A/N: Today’s the day Julius Campbell dies… Nah, I was just joking. Imagine how funny it’d be if I kill him off and make Nanna the de facto protagonist tho.
As a non-active fighter who relies more on defensive tactics, the approach I usually fall back on is guarding myself and countering attacks rather than initiating offensive strikes which may compromise my limited stamina or position. Obviously, the situation changes when firearms are involved, where neutralizing as many enemies as possible becomes crucial, but overall, being defensive has never failed me before. In fact, I dare argue it has carried me through many spectacular battles against opponents much larger than I am, despite the audience’s general dislike of such style.
Though the infected enjoys greater physical strength, speed, and heightened environmental awareness, I do have one advantage over it: Patience.
The infected is driven by primal instincts, like a rabid animal; while I am a hunter who moves and acts with calculated risks.
Strategically analyzing the creature’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities, I adopt the usual defensive stance, raising my forearms to guard my face from harms. With a gesture, I invite the infected creature to come towards me, subtly shifting my entire weight to my left leg. Predictably, the creature lunges towards my right side to maneuver out of my range… Little does it know, it was all a deliberate feint from me.
In one seamless motion, I use tne momentum of the infected’s lunge to my advantage, swiftly crashing my shin into its jaws.
As I deliver a devastating blow, breaking the infected’s jaws, shattering its teeth, and sending it flying backward simultaneously, I managing to incapacitate it with unexpected ease, conserving a significant amount of my energy whilst also wasting the infected’s. I’m unsure if it can be exhausted, as possessing infinite stamina is a typical zombie troupe, but it can’t possiblyregenerate forever, nor can its muscles and bones support that kind of rapid- jerky movements for long, I reckon.
The expected happens. The ligaments connecting its jaws suddenly snap, allowing every dislocated piece and fragment to snap back into place, reassembling and gluing back together with the unnatural inky goo. This rapid regeneration gives the appearance of a slightly wobbly skull, although the creature remains otherwise unharmed.
However, I am not deterred. I knew going into this battle that the infected possessed incredible regenerative abilities, so I was prepared for this setback. It may be able to recover quickly, but I know its weaknesses lie elsewhere, for all creatures must be countered by something.
As the creature regains its balance and begins to advance towards us again, I maintain my position, noticing the hiccups in its capabilities.
With its skull compromised, coupled with the mounting brain injury after such a significant injury. Its movements have become slower and more unnatural. Armed with this knowledge, I decide to shift my strategy, closing the distance between us in an instant.
Just as I reach its striking range, I swiftly sidestep its claws to deliver a series of precise strikes to its joints, targeting areas I know its regenerative abilities will struggle to repair.
With each strike, I focus on dislocating its limbs, knowing that even if they snap back into place, the creature will be left with destroyed ligaments, consequently reducing its mobility. I strike its knee, causing the infected to stumble. Then I aim for its shoulder, spinning its arms in the sockets like a cheap Ken doll, rendering its limbs useless temporarily. The infected lets out a guttural shriek of frustration and pain, but I do not relent.
Refusing to let it regain balance, my light yet lethal hits continue to debilitate the infected. Sweat beads on my forehead, and my muscles ache with exertion, but I never allow myself to lose focus, knowing one mistake on my end can just as easily tip the scale in its favor.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the infected collapses to the ground, its regenerative abilities overwhelmed by the extent of its injuries.
Panting heavily, I take a step back and assess the situation. The infected is still, its once terrifying presence reduced to a motionless pile of bruised- beaten flesh. It is practically a damn miracle it hasn’t perished given the state of its injuries whilst Bryan– “Bryan?!” I whirl around to see the poor man convulsing, choking on his own saliva as darkened veins crawl across his complexion like withered, poisoned branches.
Feeling the constant vibrations in my pocket, I realize that Anna must be desperately trying to reach me. Whipping my phone out, I am met with a flood of messages and notifications that have accumulated during the encounter… On the screen spread lays a question, and under it is a hourglass slowly trickling away, plus a timer for convenience’s sake perhaps?
[The onset of infection has commenced- Would you be inclined to assist your progeny?]
[Cost: 1KP]
[Timer: 29 Seconds remaining]
[Yes] [No]
“Anna…” I pause, a frown slapped across my features. “What is this?”
[To successfully infuse the Serums and the Corvinus Strain, one Kaleidoscopic Point was required. The combination has resulted in a new and enhanced Strain tailored specifically for you. As a result, the requirements for a successful infection have become significantly more stringent. Consuming your blood or being bitten by you now poses a much greater risk. Most people won’t survive the transformation.]
“But there’s a possibility?”
After a brief pause, she answers truthfully.
[Indeed, the chance of success is quite slim. That’s where the Progeny System comes into play. You have the option to spend one Point to facilitate the process or take your chances without it.
Just remember, if you choose to create progenies through the App, their thoughts and emotions will be exposed to you through the Diary Feature on the App. Of course, progenies who survive the transformation through normal means won’t be included though.]
I was given ten KP at the beginning. I have spent a total of four Points since receiving the App, meaning I only have six Points left. Is Bryan’s life– this person, who is essentially a complete stranger to me, truly worth sacrificing such a valuable currency? Especially knowing that it’ll only gets replenished once a decade with a chance, however slim it may be, that he will survive even without my interference? The answer’s obvious: “Yes.” Unhesitatingly, I fat-finger the button. “Help him. Nobody deserves that…”
I give the trembling man a weary look.
I may be able to manage with five KP; but the private doesn’t look like he can hold on any longer. Gathering my thoughts, I inquire in a hopeful tone as a rainbow cocoon envelops Pvt. Bryan. “Question, is there a method for me to earn additional KP?”
[Such Feature hasn’t been implemented, sorry.]
That’s not a ‘Yes’, but it’s not a ‘No’ either. “Will there be in the future?”
[Fingers crossed.]
‘So it’s a maybe?’
While I am… Somewhat annoyed at the vague answer, I can hardly blame Anna for it. She appears quite inexperienced in this matter and does not seem to hold an important position either despite her numerous, albeit ambiguous claims about her mysterious father whom I was logically under the impression is rather high up on the corporate ladder.
[Timer: 12 Seconds remaining]
‘Why is this stupid timer still going down?’
[You have to press ‘Yes’, idiot…]
Casting a glance at Bryan, who is foaming at the mouth, his facial features contorting and changing unnaturally, I offer him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, let me..." It’s unclear if he heard me, but considering the torturous state Bryan’s in, I dare not dilly-dally any longer. Pressing the upper-left button distractedly, I wonder in the confine of my mind, fully-aware Anna’s listening in. ‘Couldn’t you have pressed it for me?’
[Nope. My dad strongly values 'freedom of choices’. Most interactions can only be performed by the registered client. In fact, my role is solely to explain the nuances and intricacies of the App to you.]
‘Wait, you can’t interfere at all?’
[Yep, technically providing suggestions to our clients counts as interference and is generally discouraged- enforced via public scolding at our yearly disciplinary meeting. But, since it is not an official rule set by my father with no real consequences- not yet anyway, who cares? I won't tell if you won't. Wink-Wink (ФωФ).]
Putting on a serious- pinched look, I tease. ‘Hmm... If I were to report your misconduct, would they reward me with more KP points?’
[J]
The passive-aggressive smiling emoji?! ‘You know I was joking, right?’
Whereas earlier Annabella would reply instantly, she decides to take her sweet time now. Sweating bullets at her overreaction, I turn off the screen, directing my attention to Bryan instead. ‘He looks better already…’ It hasn’t been a minute and the man’s starting to lose the sickly paleness. ‘It shouldn’t take him much longer to–’
My unfortunate BlackBerry is bombarded with a flurry of notifications, ruthlessly cutting my train of thoughts in half. However, I pay it- Ehem Anna- no heed, deciding my focus is ultimately better put elsewhere- the effects my blood will have on the private for example.
Within moments of using the Point, his symptoms have begun to alleviate, and he is able to breathe again, fortunately. The pained moans of Bryan and the infected’s frenzied howls blend in an unholy symphony, heralding the transformations taking place. Bryan doesn't display any visible new features, at least none that I can see. Although, his wounds did start to heal rapidly, even quicker than mine usually do. ‘Anna–’
I begin, lips thinning in annoyance.
‘Why is he able to harness my powers even better than I can?’ No... It's as if his powers are inexplicably more potent than mine, which is totally at odds with the information Anna has provided me with. ‘What the Hell?! I thought the progenitor’s meant to be stronger than their progenies, Anna?!’
The Corvinus Strain is expected to become stronger over time, especially with the added enhancements of Compound V and F.L.A.G. I should be a Super-Super Soldier, not a damn downgrade compared to those transformed by my blood who, logically, should have a lower Corvinus Count. ‘What are this differences in treatment? I used a Point for my transformation too…!’ I grumble, pouting while the infected creature crawls closer, attempting to bite my shin.
‘Is this racially motivated? ‘Cause I feel discriminated against.’ I glare suspiciously at Bryan’s chocolate skin, then at my own fair and rosy arms through narrowed eyelids. ‘Anna?’ I call out with my thoughts, blinking innocently. ‘Are you seriously angry?’ Silence… Except for the incessant yapping of the crawling infected. “Well, great…”
I let out a sigh of disappointment.
Not only did I receive a lame superpower that transforms me into a tiny and practically defenseless bird despite being enhanced, but now even my progeny- who’s seconds old may I add- is, defying all logic and surpassing me. Sure, I never expected to become a living God like Superman, but Annabella did promise me ‘Biological Perfectionism’ without the need to adopt metaphysical energies, and this?
While I’ll concur there may yet be enhancements I have failed to discover, it’s looking more and more like a giant black stain on her work-records.
*Ding
*Ding
…
*DING(×13)
‘Okay, that last Ding was a little too aggressive.’
I reach into my pocket, but Bryan suddenly lurches, face throbbing with pulsating veins as his neck elongates- spinal ligaments stretched to their limits. The whole thing looks eerily like that one scene in 1982 ‘The Thing’ where the alien violently detached its head from the body after being exposed…
Stomping on the growling infected, I keep it pinned but care only for Bryan. If he mutates, his death will be on me, and to make it worse, I’ll probably have to put him out of his misery… ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’
*Frustrated DING!
‘Kinda in the middle of something here, Anna. Give me a sec!’
Patience wearing thin, I scream, quieting my phone whilst wondering. ‘Didn’t I change it to Vibration Mode?’ Oddly enough, I distinctively remember doing that. “ARgH! W- What the Hell did you give ME–?!” The base of the private’s spine snaps in half, his sclera and irises turning pitch black. Under Bryan’s lats and shoulder-blades, something wiggles- popping like watery boils that explode in a bloody mist… Fearfully, I retreat to avoid the potential biohazard, palm cupping my mouth and nose to prevent myself from inhaling the unnatural mist.
Red stains the walls- further adding to the creepy ambience as Pvt. Bryan James Carsten reveals a pair of stunningly gorgeous crimson wings. Light’s reflected off of it, giving his large wings this metallic sheen that appears halfway between fleshy- cancerous growth; liquid metal and super-charged magical crystal.
“Alright, now this is definitely racially motivated!” Heat radiates from his back, blasting me off whilst I’m forced to hold back a string of unbecoming curses that is sure to earn me forced entry and permanent residency in the States’ famously shitty prison- Alcatraz, should anyone happen to hear it.
With a grunt, the tips of Bryan’s feathers straighten up and in an astonishing display of strength and durability, he rips through the wall, leaving trails of molten bricks in his wake. “Man… This is such bullshit.” The words have barely escaped my lips when Bryan, quite literally blitzing my enhanced perception, grabs me by the throat and lifts me up, roaring. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!”
Struggling to breath, I pat his hands, groaning in stutters, “I- I sa- saved you!”
“Saved me? Saved me?! You turned me into a monster- forced unto me this- this wretched form!” He screams in anger, while I respond in kind, voice picking up. “I saved you from living as a crippled; from having to spend your days lamenting your loss. Whether you like how I did it or not, you owe me your life!” I growl, making a point by stressing every syllable as a rain of spittle shoots through my grinding teeth. “Now, let me down, you ungrateful asshole!”
Capitalizing on his surprise, I forcefully break free from the private's grip and deliver a kick to his chest, widening the distance between us. ‘If he can heal after sustaining 40% total damage, then he should be able to withstand that kick.’ I think viciously…
Yet, there is no satisfying cracking of bones, just a dull, soft thud as he glares at me with his unsettling black eyes. 'What was that saying? If you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you?' I touch my sore throat, wincing at the tender bruise. Bryan hadn’t shown any mercy, which is rather strange considering my initial evaluation of him as a composed and rational individual... Unless…
‘The Lane did say the first generation werewolves were incredibly aggressive and deadly. Is it possible? Does my Strain induces aggression as well?’
Although, upon further reflection, it could merely be the unimaginable agony he just endured. Regardless, I cannot hold him entirely accountable, but that does not mean I will sit here and take it either. As the Sacred Law dictates: If a beating is demanded, a beating shall be delivered. “You damn–” Shaken out of his distracted stupor, Bryan launches himself at me with reckless abandon- on his face lie the telltale signs of artificially-induced adrenaline surge. ‘He can use that too? Are you fucking serious?!’
That does explain the aggression. I’ve spent over a decade learning how to control my emotions during the [Adrenaline Surge], while the private is both inexperienced and suffering, which leads to him being angry. This anger fueling to him being angry ergo, a another [Adrenaline Surge], creating this vicious and never-ending cycle of self-destruction until even his heightened physiology will be unable to endure the strenuous strain it’s being put through, ultimately leading to organ failure and potentially death, if he fails to compose himself and rest.
‘Your heart can only take so much stress after all–’
As Bryan lunges for me, I sidestep his attack, using my own knowledge of the [Adrenaline Surge] to anticipate his movements.
Aside from forcing hormones-production, the State also seems to interact with my synapses, causing faster, stronger but jerkier movements. I still recall the first time it activated- remember how terrified I was…
I can see the same desperation in Bryan’s eyes; the confusion and pain currently stealing the wheel. I need to de-escalate, and I need to do it quick.
Taking a deep breath, I change my tunes, trying to reason with him instead. “Bryan, calm down! I understand that you’re in pain, but this will only make things worse. You need to take a moment to breathe, let your body recover.” The body and the mind are intimately connected. If he stops working himself up, mental clarity will obviously follow.
But my words seem to fall on deaf ears as Bryan continues to react impulsively and violently. I can feel a tiny flicker of frustration- a spark I ruthlessly stomp out. If I can recognize and read people’s relative emotions through my senses, he should possess similar abilities. Being frustrated or angry isn’t going to help.
With a renewed sense of determination, I decide to use my own calm presence to try and anchor the private-turned-enhanced. I take a step back, creating some distance between us, and lower my own defensive stance. “Bryan, listen to me. I have been through this before, and I know how overwhelming these changes can be. But this? It’s not a curse, it’s a gift- it’s our gift. Clench your fists, can you feel it?”
His heavy breathing slows slightly as he tilts his head in confusion. Lovebirds are notoriously feisty, and since he’s my progeny, there should be trace amount of the species in him.
It would explain the wings; the bursts of anger at the smallest perceived slights. I’ve dealt with it all before with Nanna, only difference is she had not posed an immediate danger to me, as opposed to our dear private. I continue, voice calm yet firm, guiding the man who, seemingly enthralled by my presence, obeys. “Can you feel it yet- the strength coursing through your muscles; that scorching heat in your abdomen; the power you now wield? I’m not your enemy, I’m your ally.”
A look of realization crosses his face. Fists unclenching, his gaze begins to focus. The rage and frustration in his eyes transform into something else- amazement and hope. ‘Just one more push…’
I extend a hand to him, taking measured steps forward to avoid startling him- arms up exposing my stomach, my expression filled with sincerity and empathy. He was thinking about it for a second there, thinking about cleaving me in half when I’m vulnerable. “You do not need to face this alone. I can help you- we can help each other! Together, I know we can achieve great things but you have to trust me.” Bryan hesitates for a moment, then slowly reaches forth and grasps my hand.
His grip painfully tight, “If you lie to me…”
He trails as I interjects, “I didn’t.” Pulling Bryan to his feet, tension drains out of us both as the weight of our shared burdens and uncertainties are, however temporary it may be, lifted off our shoulders. Bryan's hold on my hand softens, and he releases me from his intense stare. It’s as if a switch has been flipped within the man, turning off his simmering anger and replacing it with a reason? No, emotionlessness.
With a faint smile on his face, Bryan finally begins. "Okay, I'll trust you. But remember, one wrong move–”
“And you’ll have my head, I know. Even if I were that type of person, which I am not–” I hastily clarify. “I’m not dumb enough to fight you in Nazi territory. You saw the atrocities they are doing to the people of this town, instead of fighting amongst ourselves, you and I need to work together.”
We stood there for a moment, silently reaffirming our commitment to one another before his wings flap violently- an instinctual reaction to the news. After a brief pause, the private mutters, unamused. “… Something is chewing on my wing.” We both lean to the side, gazes falling on the crawling- “Huh, looks like its legs are starting to heal already.”
“Why didn’t you kill it?” I question innocently. “Should I have? What if there’s a way to save him?” Angrily, Bryan throws me a glance, then raises his foot and– I immediately turn my gaze away as the life’s ruthlessly stomped out of the infected.
‘COWARD!’
‘Is refusing to kill truly an act of cowardice?’ I counter, and the voice goes silent, not expecting me to respond after all these years. “Of course you should have, you psycho!”
“The test subjects are- were people.”
I remind, eyes narrowing as the corpse twitches- blood spurting out of the headless stump.
“Keyword: Were!”
He screams, adding. “If you aren’t willing to kill that, why the Hell did you join the army?!”
“I have other ways to help than killing.” If Desmond Doss did it in the OG Timeline and was even hailed as a Hero afterwards, I don’t see why I can’t do the same. Sure, there will most certainly be pushbacks from others, but with a little time and patience, it is only a matter of time before they concede.
I mean, I did manage to Erskine and Colonel Phillips over after all, granted there’s a sense of lingering tension and fear in the latter still, but I look good; am decently charismatic and don’t have any communication disorder, plus I have been told many times to possess a goofy, sunny disposition, I’ll be fine… I think. “Fuck’s sake! Next time, kill it!” Bryan curses, sweeping our surrounding. “Have you seen Neil?”
As the mention of the other private comes up, I gaps, remembering our mission. “Oh yeah, I met him. He and another are currently setting up the dynamites in the underground tunnels. Plan is to collapse the entire facility.” I say cheerfully, letting my matted blond strands settle over my eyes (A/N: Hentai Protagonist Hair). “Let me get this straight, you- who if I’m not mistaken, have already displayed a strong dislike for the act of murder- want to bring this whole building down on everyone?”
The skepticism is strong, but I just chuckle, shrugging. “Long as it isn’t me pressing the button, what does it have to do with me?”
“…” His frustrated expression changes from livid to pale as he retreats from my vicinity. “No wonder they picked you for the Super Soldier Program. You’re a fucking psycho.” Ouch, that hurts! Seeing me with no visible reaction to the accusation, Bryan’s scowl intensifies, shifting the course of the conversation. “I guess I can forgive you on her behalf. Speaking of which, she’s–” His sentence gets interrupted when a fearful and pained screech echoes through the hallways.
As a proud bird-dad, I need no further prompting to rush to my bird’s side, leaving to shout. “Wait! Dammit! Both you and that darn dinosaur!”
“She’s a velociraptor and a lovebird!” I correct, swiftly dashing down the corridor. “Get it right!”
— [Kaleidoscopic Polaris] —
Several hallways away, Nanna is trying to fend off three infected individuals who have also escaped in the chaos. Unfortunately, as these all belong to the first-generation, infected with the potent, undiluted goo, they can neither be controlled nor reasoned with.
In fact, the creatures have already claimed the lives of a dozen scientists who were once Hitler’s greatest assets in this project. Now, they are on the hunt for even bigger prey- a prey they have seen and battled many times eons ago when they first landed on this dirtball. It is starving- the biomass gained from these humans is of disappointingly poor quality in comparison to what it’s used to.
After being buried and forgotten for hundreds of millions of years, what remains of its consciousness is hazy at best. Now awakened, it is only greeted with more sufferings– being subjected to experiments and abuse. Its state of mind is far from conducive to socialization, its mind seemingly trapped in a perpetual flight-or-fight response. Fragmented psyche shouting in agony, it quickly subsumes its host’s mind- an ability it was forced to learn to survive over its extended life.
With a singular purpose in mind, it rushes forth-teeth bared. The feathered creature’s stronger than a measly human by far- even multiple, but against it? The huge creature just cannot hold up, or so it believes. Over half a dozen tendrils, each blacker than the night sky, sprout from its back, lashing out at Nanna who leaps on top of the shelves, squawking as she dives down, her glinting talons tearing a sizeable chunk out of the infected’s shoulder… Yet, it’s not flesh she tastes, but rather the tangy scent of mold.
She spits, gags then regurgitates her food to wash away the bitter taste, eyes dilating in anger, screeching to her heart content whilst simultaneously tapping her toothy beak, her feathers puffed up. Thankfully, that’s when a yellow lovebird lands on the infected’s head. His appearance causes both to stop and stay their attacks, until he takes off to the ceiling, diving towards the infected. The sentient goo doesn’t react, its splintered ego even scoffing at the daring winged animal, and then…
Its eyes, slanted points of white molds stretching over its face like a fucked-up goggle, widening in fear as the tiny animal explodes in a cloud of pulsing gold rays dotted with green and constantly-changing tentacles. “Get your disgusting, gooey ass away from my bird, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” Caesar has arrived. No time to escape, the alien can only stand there and tank the stomp.
Heavy-booted feet strikes at its face. Its tendrils form a protective barrier over its head, but there’s only so much biomass available.
Seemingly on cue, Nanna the Velociraptor lunges for its exposed back. With a fierce and calculated swipe of her sharp claw, Nanna sinks her talons deep into the gooey flesh of the alien. It lets out a guttural shriek, a sound that writhes with pain and fury, as its slimy tendrils whip around in a frantic attempt to dislodge the relentless beast.
But Nanna holds her ground, her powerful jaws snapping dangerously close to the alien's thrashing appendages. Caesar wastes no time capitalizing on the distraction. With a lightning-fast movement, he fetches a cylindrical device from his belt and hurls it towards the alien, his eyes closed shut as he turns away. The device releases a blinding flash of light at point blank range, successfully disorienting the alien and allowing Caesar to strike with swift and precise blows.
His fists connect with its hardened and ever-shifting surface, each punch carrying the weight of his anger and determination. The goopy creature finds itself unable to retaliate effectively against the combined might of both as the battle grows more intense and the air thickens with adrenaline mixed with alien slime.
As the alien’s defense begins to show cracks, a ferocious surge takes hold of Nanna. With a mighty roar, she tears into the creature’s pulsating mass, ripping and tearing with a frenzy that befits her ancestry. The alien fights back recklessly- abandoning defense in favor of offense. Perhaps it knows its effort is better reserved for offense, but the sheer strength and tenacity of the raptor proves more than it can handle.
Meanwhile, Caesar remains poised and agile, maneuvering around the alien’s flailing tendrils with the grace of a trained fighter. His strikes grow more powerful with each blow, fueled by a desire to protect his avian companion. His piercing gaze never wavers, his determination unwavering as he pummels the alien with all his might.
Finally, with one last decisive strike, Caesar delivers a bone-shattering uppercut to the alien’s core. The creature’s body convulses uncontrollably, its form dissolving into a bubbling pool of noxious goo. A sigh of relief escapes Caesar’s lips as he steps back, his fists still clenched tightly.
Nanna, too, withdraws from the defeated alien, refusing to take a bite as she remembers the foul taste, her eyes gleaming with victory. The room falls silent, save for the heavy breaths of the victors. Caesar’s attention turns to the tiny lovebird, having returned to her usual form and perched on his outstretched forearm, chirping happily. Unfortunately, the fight’s far from over.
The sounds of their battle have drawn several more infected in various stage of infection to their location. “Girl…” Caesar trails. “Looks like we have our work cut out for us.” Bryan, Hans and Neil choose that exact moment to make their presences known, carrying in their hands a bunch of steel pipes and kitchen accessories. “JULIUS, CATCH!”
Heavily accented voice reaches his eardrums, and Caesar immediately raise his hands, grabbing the tools out of the air whilst the three start banging the equipment. The effects are instantaneous, the infected all begin to crumble one by one. “We’re done! The explosives are set, we have got to get out of here!” Neil yells, voice barely audible while surrounded by banging pots, but Caesar seems hesitant. “What’re you still waiting for? Get the Hell out of there!”
“No… Somebody needs to stay and keep ‘em from escaping. You guys get out–”
“Wha– NO!”
A gentle smile graces his features as he lovingly whispers something to his pet bird, then tosses her to Bryan. “Keep her safe! If anything happens to her, I’ll kill you!” He says with such lightheartedness, the group can’t help but think he’s joking, though only Nanna knows how serious he is, as rudimentary as her form of intelligence and sentience are. “You promised to teach me to live as what I’ve been turned into…”
Bryan’s glare deepens.
“A man’s only as good as his words are, Campbell.” Harsh gaze falling on the two next to him afterwards, the private barks. “C’mon, we’ve got to go.” The three trade hesitant glances, but they all intimately know that look- that’s a face of a man who has resigned to fate’s machinations. “Don’t die, Campbell! I’m looking forwards to working with you!”
“I won’t!”
