Page 14 of Scorching the Alien Empire
I inhale deeply—the vapor fills my lungs, and heat courses through my veins, igniting Arawnoth’s fury within me. My fingers trace the hot ash smeared across my forehead, my breath turning erratic, my heart-pounding with a singular, beautiful desire: carnage.
“May we die a glorious death.” Jazreal laughs, his voice distorted, jagged in my altered senses. His massive hand slams against my back and Dracoth’s, the incredible force nearly toppling me if not for us being sandwiched together. Yet I feel no pain, no weakness—only the heart thumping desire to kill.
“Come, Princesa,” Dracoth rumbles, his crimson eyes now misted with an edge of venomous green. His arm extends toward me, like a taxi with the door open.
“Let’s go introduce ourselves!” I exclaim, my voice a low growl of excitement as I leap into Dracoth’s arms without a second thought.
My murderous taxi turns sharply toward the ship’s hatch, his free hand manipulating the controls. The rusty door groans, opening at an excruciatingly slow pace. Steam hisses and swirls through the widening gap, and my nose wrinkles in disgust as a stench like rotten cabbage assaults my senses.
To make matters worse, the door halts halfway down, stuck with a bone-deep screech of protesting metal. Before I can groan in complaint, Dracoth delivers a satisfying, massive clown-foot kick, sending it crashing down with a resounding thud.
The noise echoes into the dim tunnel beyond, where the drip-drip of unseen water mingles with a faint, incessant alarm tone that feels more like an irritating headache than a warning. I can’t see into the distance, can’t see much at all. It’s dark with just a dim flickering white light, highlighting that we’re in some awful rusty metal tunnel, the walls slick with moisture.
“I’ll handle this,” Jazreal announces, gliding forward like he’s skating on ice.
I’m not sure what “this” is, but both he and Dracoth have slid on their terrifying masks, all black slanted eye-slits, and hard edges. Probably lets them see through walls or something, while I’m stuck here as blind as my mother’s taste in men.
Sparks fly as Jazreal’s long spear springs to life, driving one point into a grated barrier. Both ends of his spear glow and hum with ominous molten blue, illuminating the grimy metal walls in flickering azure.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I struggle to control my erratic breath, driven by the familiar psychotic murder drugs burning through my veins. But as I watch Jazreal carve a smooth circular hole into the metal, I can’t help but feel excitementbuilding at the prospect of seeing his spear tear through those pathetic alien losers.
A final clang jolts me out of my thoughts. Jazreal steps back, the severed grate falling to the floor with a satisfying crash. With a flourish, he spins his spear, locking it onto his back, and ducks into the newly created opening.
Dracoth lowers me to the slick floor and urges me forward with a gentle nudge. Already I miss his pleasant heat, as the clammy cold quickly replaces his warmth.
I hasten to follow Jazreal into the spooky tunnel, which appears even darker than the entrance. Not only darker but much smaller, forcing even me to stoop to squeeze inside.
“You’re going to miss all the fun, Dracoth,” I say, shooting him a mischievous look over my shoulder. “You’re far too big for this place.”
His mask gives nothing away—it’s as expressionless as his natural Mr. Frowny Face. His head tilts as he examines the seared entrance, before surprising me by dropping to all fours and squeezing into the passage like the universe’s biggest dog.
“Nothing bars my path,” he declares, all super-serious meathead, despite the ridiculousness of his massive frame scraping through the narrow space. His armor grinds against the walls with every movement, each step dragging a chorus of screeching metal behind him.
“You’re rocking that silly-putty-jammed-in-a-toilet-roll vibe,” I tease with a soft chuckle, earning a pleasing grunt from Dracoth.
The pulsing alarm grows louder as I struggle to keep pace with Jazreal despite him almost being bent double in the cramped tunnel. Every icy drip of water that slithers down my collar nearly sends me jumping out of my skin, my fingers itching to summon barriers just to block their path.
Then, a new sound. Rat-tat-tat. My ears twitch at the rhythmic tapping, faint at first but growing louder, echoing ominously from somewhere above. It’s the kind of noise Todd would make—if Todd wore tiny metal booties.
“Wait!” I demand, coming to an abrupt stop. Dracoth doesn’t notice in time, and his masked face bumps squarely into my backside, nearly sending me face-first into the damp floor.
“Now’s hardly the time, Dracoth,” I mutter, shooting him a glare over my shoulder. Before he can respond, the rattling noise above me intensifies, sharp and metallic. I glance up just as a square panel in the ceiling slides open with a hiss, revealing a skittering horror of metal limbs and a singular blinking red eye.
“Fucking murder-bots!” I scream, recoiling as the spider-like drone descends toward me. Without thinking, I summon my barriers, slamming the shimmering walls together to trap the metallic monstrosity mid-air. Its legs twitch and scrape against the invisible force, trying to escape.
Why am I the only one reacting to this spidery invasion?
“What are you waiting for, Dracoth? Burn it to ash!” I shout, my voice pitched with panic as my eyes dart around, expecting a flood of these skittering nightmares.
Dracoth doesn’t move, watching impassively as my barriers tighten. With a triumphant gasp, I squeeze the drone until it trembles violently before breaking apart in a glorious rain of jagged steel shards.
“I killed it!” I announce, beaming at the shattered remains. Pride swells in my chest, but the bond between Dracoth and me hums only with faint amusement.
“An automated service drone,” he remarks dryly, gesturing toward the heap of broken metal. “They pose no threat.”
“Then why’s this place so filthy?” I snap, unwilling to let him steal my moment. “More likely that thing was about to drop a nuke on us or something.”
Further down the tunnel, Jazreal’s voice echoes, slightly distorted by his mask. “Over here.” He stands over a grate, his energy claws glowing molten blue, distorting the air with their heat. With a sharp thrust, he drives them into the metal, melting the rust-streaked grate into bubbling slag.
