Chapter Text
Chapter One - Forced to Adapt
The soft turn of a page in an age-old comic book.
The cold, wet, uneven surface of the cage floor.
A bright sun, the beginning of the summer season.
The darkness of the run-down ship left to drift through space.
The jeers and voices of ostracization.
The quiet isolation as the only survivor.
This is who they fear.
This is who fears.
June 13th 22XX
“What the fuck are you doing here, Deku!?”
A flash of light.
“Kacchan, RUN!”
Flight.
Turns into.
Fight.
What’s h a p p e n i n g . . . ?
Claws reach out. Metal sparks with bursts of electricity. Too many eyes.
Bright yellow blood— StopStopStop — stains his hands, stains his teeth.
No way home. Alone on a ship with no clue on how to pilot it.
Rations run dry. Starvations…is a slow way to D I E—
.
The Outskirts of the Terra Solar System
July 10th 22XX
Weak, uneven breaths.
A constant tremor in Izuku’s bones as the lifeless ship stole the heat from his very core. His clothes are unsuited for the environment. A thin black T-shirt with the words ‘T-shit’ on the front, tan cargo shorts, and a pair of bright-red, black-laced, shoes. Something thrown on as the summer heat grew with the change of seasons.
Not for the unforgiving cold of space travel.
The ship coast on autopilot. But the crawl is slow enough to call it aimless. A deep groan of metal echoes across the neverending reaches of the cosmos.
A pipe hisses like a sapient beast.
Things tick, turn, repeated patterns.
Nothing changes.
How long…how long until…?
Slumped against a wall of blinking lights. Each flash or color has lost its meaning to the lone inhabitant. One is unable to even read instructions, the symbols on both printed and digital make no sense. Shapes and structures are foreign and unrecognizable.
A deep sigh leaves chapped lips.
Izuku’s body is so heavy, that even his lungs struggle to take a breath against the weight of his own rib cage.
He’s turned to the side, staring down at an open drawer. The mess of silver packets inside are torn open. Their labels are ignored in his path to satiate the hunger. Empty of their contents, food rations, empty.
Dull green eyes blink, sluggish.
The boy doesn’t think he can get up even if he tries. The muscles in his arms don’t even feel like they exist. His legs barely twitch, do they even work anymore?
Sleep.
He should sleep.
Maybe then…maybe then the waiting won’t seem so bad…
His eyelids fall shut…and his mind falls away…
The piercing scream of a siren cast the ship in red.
The boy’s head snaps up. His greasy dark-green hair moves like an ugly wig. The mess of curls curtains his eyes as they dart around in panic.
What.
What happens—
The alarm shuts off.
Every light goes out.
The darkness swallows him.
A short cry breaks from his dry mouth, but it sputters out; a frail thing. The cold rushes him like waves from dark waters. They lap at his legs and Izuku tenses, heart racing.
Burst of electric energy shoots over his skin. Sparks die with each weaks response as his muscles refuse to listen. Adrenaline is trapped in a body with no way to express it. Fight or flight, options out of his reach.
His shoulders shake. The air is ice against his lungs.
The sound of heavy footfall rumbles in the distance.
Teeth clench, mind flickering like an unsteady flame. Embers burst and his hands crawled up his chest.
He exhales and his arms fall.
Useless.
The pressure of frustration, fear, and anger, builds behind round eyes. His breath comes out like shaky wisps of white.
Fuck.
A white beam of light shines past the open entrance.
Izuku shuts his eyes; and the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
A strange…clicking sound draws closer. It’s almost wet, barely there.
Heavy footfall enters the storage room. Closer to his prone body. A sitting duck.
Even with his eyes closed, he can see the bright white light as it brushes over his form.
All sound comes to a stop.
The boy freezes with it.
A sharp screech rakes over his eardrums.
Green eyes snap open.
His stomach drops.
A stocky, rat creature stands in front of him. It’s screaming, eyes glowing a bright pink. Strange appendages flare on top of its head. Its mouth is open to reveal a pair of snake-like fangs.
He doesn’t think.
He moves.
A foot shoots out—
Something gives a wet snap—
The creature is thrown back, its screech cuts out.
The flashlight(?) goes flying.
He needs to run. His heart is a fluttering thing.
But his legs aren’t cooperating, kicking out feebly, like a newborn kitten.
He twists, hands shooting out and scraping against the smooth metal flooring.
Away, he needs to get away—
More footfall.
More of those things —
Too soon, several lights flood the small room.
He’s blinded, the creatures behind the beams are left as shadows, but he’s sure they’re more of the same creature.
There’s a click. Inorganic. Machinery.
His very heartbeat drums throughout his body. His eyes blur. Trapped. Helpless.
And then fear turns to hot rage. The flames rise and consume the anxiety in his gut.
No.
He can’t give up.
A snarl tears across his mouth; and white teeth glisten.
His green eyes burn with something toxic, something dangerous.
Words rip from his throat, a battle cry, the last stand, “STAY AWAY!”
A click— White hot pain blossoms from his chest.
The flashlights cast upon him, take over his vision.
And he succumbs to the darkness.
Izuku’s hands fly out only to hit smooth glass. The sound is dull.
Green eyes open to a flood of white light. It burns. They shut and bright sparks of color dance behind his eyelids.
He’s floating…not just his mind…not like a dream…he’s floating. Upright and feet are free from the ground, weightless. His hair bounces, free from gravity. Like he jumped into the school's pool, his body suspended after a freeing dive.
Nerves jolt as his mind clears.
Trapped.
He twists and a sea of foam stirs, creating a fog of white. Squinting his eyes, Izuku watches, head following the rise of air.
He can’t see the surface. Arm's reach out—
Ice shoots through his veins. His hand is covered in wires. Needles pierce through his skin. Izuku can’t hear. His heart pumps furiously, and blood responds, rushing throughout his body in a vicious cycle. A new sound makes itself known, matching the thumping of his frantic heart.
Bu-dump—Beep
Bu-dump—Beep
Bu-dump—Beep
His other hand grips the wires…and yanks them out.
PAIN.
A shout spills from his lips and bubbles explode from his mouth.
Blood clouds the surrounding liquid red.
Izuku scrambles, hands, and feet bang against a glass barrier.
Drowning.
His mouth snaps shut and a hand goes to his throat.
I’m drowning-!
The glass fractures, a long jagged line.
The scream of a machine is the only warning he gets…before he falls back into darkness.
Izuku wakes with a start. His head and heart pound away mercilessly. His body is curled in on itself, and he’s almost kneeling into a deep bow against the ground.
A sharp quiet beep sounds close to his left ear causing him to wince.
Something— a strap? — presses against either side of his face. Above and below both of his ears, meeting the back of his head and neck.
S-somethings…strapped to m-my face???
Jerking up on his knees, arms move to push against the floor— except they can’t.
His breath is fragile, the thin branches of a dying tree. He turns, trying to look behind—
Cuffs. A strange bulky thing encases his hands. It’s a short tube that connects two orbs where his hands are. Keeping them together, restraining him.
The boy bites down the rising fear. He needs to think. Calm down.
Swallowing he looks to check on the rest of his body.
Muscles twitch and he braces himself for the heavy exhaustion and the deep, empty hunger.
But it doesn’t come.
The learned expectation from days of…
He’s…
He feels good.
Green eyes blink and he leans back on his butt and crosses his legs. The action is easy. Painless. The constant exhaustion is gone.
A wet sniffle follows the familiar pressure building behind his eyes.
He takes in a deep, shuddering breath.
Inhale.
Exhale.
He looks down—
Surprised blossoms across the boy’s face. His clothes are different. Looking down— he’s wearing…some kind of suit?
Izuku leans back some more, trying to check out the new outfit.
.
It’s a full-body…fit that connects the bottom and top like an astronaut’s flight suit. But…it looks like armor. The pants design pulls up past his stomach in a rustic red color with an ash-gray square shape that runs down to the side of his knees. Clear padding is over his knees and the side of his legs.
The upper part is black. Once again, padding protects his torso, shoulders, back, and arms.
He’s not wearing gloves; or shoes.
Green eyes narrow.
It’s like he’s…armed for war —
Sound. The deep guttural bark of noise is followed by similar other responding noises. Like…they’re speaking to each other?
Izuku hutches down. He’s…in a box. Holes are near the ceiling, letting in brushes of luminescent light. The walls are a dull white, the floor and ceiling are a dark gray, some kind of metal.
It’s both suffocating and a comfort. He’s trapped, but..for now, whatever’s out it isn’t able to get to him. Course they could probably open and grab him, a false comfort. But he’ll take the flimsy illusion for now.
Breath. In. Out.
Keeping low to the ground, Izuku keeps his gaze on the holes, unable to see an entrance or exit. His hands are sweating in their cuffs.
The light moves by, his…crate(?) is being…moved? The ride is smooth. And the only sign of movement comes from the passing lights and fading and rising voices(???)
Thoughts race, asking questions that he can’t answer. Stuck in a loop of what and where. The longer it lasts, the deeper the reaches of anxiety pull him— Not unlike a black hole.
He…he can fight.
But does he want to? Does he want to risk the i s o l a t i o n again?
More noise pulls him from Izuku’s thoughts.
The screech of some creature. The shuffle of heavy footfall. The drag of metal chains against a rough floor.
His teeth clench and the arching buzz of anxiety dances along his skin. Goosebumps run up his arms and wishes he could bring them to his chest. Round eyes flicker along the holes in the walls, searching for anything that can tell them what he needs to brace for—
A bark of laughter, that doesn’t sound like laughter. It’s wrong. It’s too rough and it’s not right. But it’s familiar enough.
His crate bumps against something…then the sound of gears and other mechanical parts comes to life. Metal whines, and electrical beeps signal movement. The boy's crate— cage?— jerks in place and he lowers himself.
Legs move underneath him, ready to spring.
Something is latching onto the wall in front of him. Spinning before a sharp hiss rakes against his ears.
Izuku’s body recoils as the wall…rises. Bright, manufactured light spills into his(?) box, and noise crashes into him. A flood of chaotic energy slams over him and—
The wall behind him pushes against him, forcing him forward.
Bare feet slip against the smooth metal floor. His arms behind him tense in a weak attempt to free themself.
Reaching the opening, a wine slips from his mouth, helpless to stop whatever’s going to happen next.
The boy falls forward.
.
And meets dirt.
Unable to catch himself he falls to his knees and stares at the red dirt floor. It’s hard, but the surface is soft with loose soil.
A sharp beep comes from beside his left ear and—
The mechanical movement comes from the thing— muzzle?— strapped to his face. Pieces of the thing—mask? muzzle?— fall and pull back, leaving his nose and mouth uncovered.
The smell of sweat, cooking food, and dust reach him.
Another beep, this one high in pitch.
His cuffs fall off.
Izuku brings his sweaty hand to the front, grimacing at the ache on his shoulder. How long were they…?
The noise from before rises and he looks up— Oh.
His heart stops. His body freezes.
Wide green eyes take in the giant arena— Colosseum —around him. The seats are full, the spectators like ants, their cheers like the crash of a wave during a storm. Floodlights light up the ground floor. All ready for a show.
Izuku takes a step back and finds his body is trembling. Legs wobble in place, unsteady, the feeling in them nearly gone.
A stage.
And he is one of the entertainers.
The boy looks back, the drum of his pulse in his ears, but the entrance is closed. The peach-colored wall is smooth like there was never an opening in the first place.
Nononononono—!
The thump in his chest is painful and his chest feels too tight.
Hands grip at the front of his suit, mouth open and gasping.
Out- there’s — a painful wheeze— no way out!
A sharp beep from the other side of the ground floor draws his attention.
The blood leaves his face as he pales, and the grip on his suit tightens.
The arena is about the size of a football field, and on the other side, past red soil, rock, and pillars of stone, the bright orange and purple shape of a creature begins to stand on four legs.
His knees bend, smaller, closer to the ground. Like trying to coast through school without being seen.
Sweat drips down his neck.
Course…it only works half the time.
.
The creature looks right at him. It’s got the head of a horse…if a horse had three yellow eyes, ridiculously tall-pointed-ears, and a mouth with four large fangs that stretched up to its eyes.
Its… skin is bright, toxic, and orange with vivid purple spirals.
The thing, snarls, lips pulled back.
runRunRUNRUNRUN—!
It roars, a long, high-pitched, trilling bark.
Izuku screams—
—The crowd cheers—
—and he runs away, off to the left of the ‘field’. Bare feet pound against the soil and it’s easy. The boy is light on his feet, the feeling, like gravity, barely applies to him.
He looks down…and he can't believe his own speed. He’s almost flying over the arena floor.
Heart leaping, he looks back to see a red cloud erupt from his heels. Trailing after him.
Safe. If he’s this fast, he just has to run.
Something slams into his side and sends him tumbling across the red desert.
He rolls—
Arms move to cover his head—
His side hits the ground—
And his back smashes into the arena's side wall.
It…it doesn’t hurt. Like he was thrown into a mattress. The…the armor must’ve protected him?
He blinks and looks up, a cloud of dust surrounds him. It coats his suit and his green curls.
MOVE—!
He throws himself back, and the creature lands where he once was. Three-toed claws(?), hoofs(?), scrape against the peach-colored wall.
The thing’s body has muscles that tense and coil. Its tail whips behind it.
A sharp, high-pitched, bark trills— before its head snaps in his direction.
Izuku kicks and his body flies back— twisting, he doesn’t look back.
He lands on bare feet and runs.
He can do that. He can run. He can—
The crowd cheers loudly again, voices rising like the sea.
He leaps to his right—
The creature darts past him.
Okay, it’s…it’s just as fast too.
Teeth bare, green eyes land on the surrounding pillars.
Legs tense.
But…he’s not even tired. He still has energy.
He hears the thing snarl, a bark that sounds like a scream.
Can… can it keep up?
The boy soars— and the thing is quick to follow.
The audience laughs, jeers, and shouts with amusement as Izuku turns, jumps, and runs between and around the ground floor. Pillars become barriers, shields that protect him from swipes and fangs.
The creature doesn’t slow, and it’s not stopping any time soon—
He trips, avoiding another swing, and he tumbles on the red soil. A few rocks dig into his back. Any distance made, is lost.
The creature stands tall in front of him. Strange square pupils land on the boy.
It’s too close. He won't be able to run without its claws reaching him first. Trapped. The thing lets out a few trilling barks. An image of being cornered by Kacchan, flashes through his mind as the creature stalks Izuku.
A bubble of laughter fills his chest, but the sound he makes is wet, and edging on despair.
Izuku’s not going to get hit and left alone. This isn’t him having to endure some school bullies.
His hand grips a rock.
This thing…it wants to kill him.
Face twisting, he bares his teeth and pushes himself up, “G- GET BACK!”
It stills. Face snarling, yellow eyes piercing.
“I-!” He stands, the creature…it’s about his own size on all fours. “I SAID GET BACK!” His throat hurts. His body feels paper thin. Weak. Fear coats his voice, plain on his face, but he stays standing tall. He stomps his foot, taking a step forward, “GO AWAY!”
The creature jerks back—
It’s working, it’s working—!
—before lowering itself to the ground, ready to pounce.
Izuku's vision sharpens. It tunnels, dark around the edges. A ringing sings from his eardrum.
The alien-animal leaps at him—
He throws the rock in his hand—
It flies like a bullet and pierces right through the animal with a sickening squelch, leaving a large hole through the creature's head. Orange blood splatters out, showering the boy in a warm, wet, spray.
Its body falls to the ground, eyes blank, and face in a forever snarl.
The crowd quiets, or at least he thinks they do. Izuku’s own breathing takes up most of his hearing, along with a ringing that slowly fades out. The boy is breathing heavily, mouth open.
An announcer's voice comes over the arena, and words that mean nothing to him are said with an entertainer's flair.
The audience roars.
Blood drips down his face.
Izuku’s hands fly up and cover his mouth. His eyes blur and shine. His chest tightens and he falls to his knees.
He can’t look away from— dead, dead, dead — creature.
Tears flood his eyes and stream down his face.
This…
The familiar, sharp beep, comes from— a collar?— below his left ear.
This is…
Something injects into his neck, cool liquid shoots into his jugular.
…Hell.
This time Izuku welcomes the darkness.
Red eyes illuminated by a lone streetlight glow, glare back at him, “What are you doing here?”
A shaky laugh falls from his lips as he tries to calm his racing heart. He’s usually alone during school nights, “J-just taking a walk?”
The blond's face falls flat, “You’re a shitty liar.”
Izuku winces, “I- I mean..I could ask you—”
Katsuki’s eyes narrow.
“—Th-the same thing!” He looks away, unable to meet his friend's(?) glare. “Sorry!”
He hears a huff, the other's shoes grind against a dry leaf, “Whatever. I already know you’re out here.”
Izuku stares at the ground.
“Believe in those loser conspiracies.”
He snaps back to attention, looking right at Kacchan, “Th-their real!”
Ah.
He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.
A bark of laughter has him stepping back. “Huh? Like I said. Loser Conspiracy theories.” He sneers, “Makes sense why a Deku like you would—”
A flash of light.
Shoving hands.
“—RUN, KACCHAN!”
Gears spin and click, and the ground trembles under heavy machinery falling into place.
A groan tumbles from the boy's mouth. Pale, freckled face twists in discomfort as he turns onto his stomach. His forehead rubs against a rough cold metal floor. The muzzle on his face clangs with the motion.
Green eyes open, and the world blurs before coming into focus.
Izuku blinks, a dim yellow light is gentle on his eyes.
The boy pushes himself up, hair a mess. He turns, taking in his new surroundings. Again, waking up somewhere new and unfamiliar. Exhaustion pulls at his bones.
It’s— He frowns— a cell.
.
The entrance is a large metal door in the middle of a steel(?) wall with large glass(?) windows. Izuku’s not sure what metal or even if it’s something that just looks like it, but as he stands and taps against its surface, it sounds and feels like steel. He slides his palm across the glass— only it’s not glass. It feels more like? rock? Like some sort of transparent rock…or crystal. A light…iridescent sheen glosses over the surface.
He looks to the rest of the ‘room’.
About 50 ft wide and…25 ft tall. Spacious. The other three walls are gray metal, and the ceiling is black.
Two…beds? Are on either side of the room. Are they beds?
Izuku walks over to the closest one, which is to the left of the room from the entrance. It’s a five-inch hole in the shape of a rectangle? About five feet by six feet.
And it’s full of leaves???
He couches down and picks it up. The thing is huge, and dry…but not to the point of it crinkling and falling apart. Just…soft and not wet???
Is this food?
Izuku looks over to the other ‘rectangle depression thing’.
Then why are there two of them…?
He puts the leaf back.
The back wall has a…shower? Embedded in the wall, almost like a room of its own, but it’s small, like a closet. An obvious pipe at the top and the smooth dark-blue stone floor slants down to the middle where a drain can be seen. At least he’ll be able to keep clean…
The last thing in the room is something he’s tried to ignore.
A camera that follows his movements with a gun underneath it.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Would it shoot bullets? Or would he just be shot with some darts? They..they wouldn’t kill him…right? Not after all the trouble, it took to get him.
A sharp beep comes from a speaker above the hall.
Izuku looks to the large glass doors and shuffles over, peering out into the dimly lit hallway. Cells embroider the hallways from both sides. The one across from him has a strange— everything is strange— dark blue creature, it has a large shell, like a pill bug. A trunk for a nose and thin spikes that sprout from its six arms.
Looking at them causes the hairs on his arm to stand up. He grimaces, and looks back down the hallway.
Two Guards push a large black cart down the walkway. Various plants stick out the top and side, along with pieces of white wrapping paper(???).
The guards are short, about half Izuku’s height. Neither look alike to one another. Two separate beings. One is a puff of white and brown fur with small round ears. It would be cute; if its large mouth wasn’t full of shark-like teeth. Its purple eyes flicker about, as it makes a soft chirping sound.
The other one, some sort of lizard— Iguana?— being, turns to the other, hissing followed by a few sharp barks.
They’re…talking to each other.
He tilts his head to the side, ears straining as the two stop at each cell for a moment before morning onto the next. His freckled cheek presses against the clear-crystal window.
He hasn’t really had time to try and listen, not when he had been trying to escape the first ship. The Tree Aliens didn’t want to talk.
The flash of metal, scalpel, needles.
PAIN, SHARP, SHARP PAIN—!
Breath.
In.
Out.
Countdown from five.
Voices, chirps, and guttural barks come closer. The cart rattles as it rolls along uneven ground.
They stop just before reaching his cells.
He locks eyes with the small fluff ball alien.
The thing squeaks and jerks back, ears pulled back, "Dako! It's Staring!"
A heavy tail slams into the ground and Izuku looks over to the Iguana Guard. “Calm down, the Gl’A’diant Crystal should keep it contained." Yellow slit eyes slide over to the boy, Izuku just stares.
His heart is hammering away, but he doesn’t move.
Green eyes glare back.
The taller alien huffs, pushing the cart over to his cell. “Just ignore the thing.” They grab a few things, one of the white wrapped packages? And a few of the plants.
A growl comes from Izuku’s stomach.
The Lizard Alien freezes, head jerking back to stare at him. The long spines on its head stand tall.
The fluffy Alien ducks behind the cart.
Amusement bubbles in Izuku's chest. How such a small thing is freaking the two aliens out. He holds down a light laugh. It wouldn’t be received well by the alien holding his food…
Izuku shakes his head and steps back, stomach giving another gurgle.
He takes a seat on the cold metal floor, crossing his legs.
A quiet stammer of squeaks and chirps comes from the fluff behind the cart and the Lizard Alien snaps out of it. They glance back, barking something, before walking over to the large metal door that separates them from the boy.
The turns of metal on metal ring out. A wide slot opens from the bottom of the door…and a tray of food is quickly shoved in, sliding past Izuku to the middle of the room.
The boy stares at it.
He hears the slot slam shut and that same ring of metal signals the turn of some sort of lock. Looking back, he catches the two guards already moving onto the next cell, their steps noticeably quicker.
A sharp beep comes from the collar around his neck. The muzzle makes a clicking sound as pieces move and fold, freeing the barrier from his mouth. He should be able to eat now.
As Izuku looks back to the tray his eyes meet the other prisoners. The beetle thing flinches and moves back.
It’s for the best. He’ll be left alone this way— Until they want him to fight.
The boy fetches the tray, checking out the stalks of dark green leaves. They’re rough and bumpy, the stems a deep purple that reminds him of rhubarb. Except when he picks one up, the sloshing sound of liquid comes from the thick stem.
.
He brings the plant close to his face and takes a sniff.
Orange, sharp, mixed with a…flora scent. It causes his mouth to water.
He bites into the thick stem before he can stop himself. A rush of sweet, candy-like juice spills into his mouth and his taste buds sing. Izuku swallows it down before chomping on the rest of the— bland-tasting— plant.
Two more leafy stalks are left, and he decides to save them for later.
The paper-wrapped package is left. Well…the strange plant was delicious. The other shouldn’t be that bad. He shrugs and reaches out, picking the, surprisingly heavy, package up. The paper crinkles as he unwraps the—
He pauses.
P-purple raw meat???
.
It’s cold and it’s a large chunk, clear bits of fat hanging onto muscle. Purple blood drips off the wrapper. It’s…well it’s like holding a piece of uncooked steak. Cold and…it didn’t really smell like anything unless he brought it closer to his face. Which just smelled metallic and cold.
At least it didn’t smell…bad.
Maybe he could just..imagine it was some fancy dish. People ate raw steak called steak tartare. Sushi is raw fish. And…with whatever these Aliens did to help him when he had been starving and weak…surely they could help him again if the meat wasn’t safe.
Yeah, that’s not helping. But he should try. Protein— does space meat also have protein?— will help with energy and…
He looks at his thin arms.
…building muscle. He’ll last longer in a fight…he’ll live longer— Teeth tear into the hunk of meat before he chickens out.
Green eyes spark to life. Drool fills his mouth. Salt, tender, juicy. His head pulls back as he chomps and chews the raw meat. But it’s so good.
Time passes.
His stomach fills quickly— when was he last full? Only a large white bone sits in his palms. Cool blood drips down his chin, but he just wipes it away with the back of his arm. Slowly…tentatively, a small smile settles upon his freckled face. Green eyes droop.
Izuku yawns widely and gathers the paper wrapping and places both that and the bone upon the tray. The boy doubts he’ll be able to hide the tray, so he just sets it in front of the metal door.
That familiar beep sounds and the muzzle comes to life, clicking back into place and covering his mouth and nose.
He sighs.
The prisoner from the other cell across from him catches his eye and he can’t help but smile back.
The creature scrambles away with a harsh coughing noise. They fall back and— curl up into a ball of armor.
Izuku blinks. Yeah, he’s dubbing them: pill-bug Alien.
.
Planet: Risnlatra
July 13th 22xx
It’r’lis City sang with life despite the night cycle overtaking the sky. Twin Moons, Vexis and Dualitz, shared their time above the lively city. More than half the populace slept, but the other half, like himself, A’zawa Sho’a, stayed up, with work to be done, and duties to fulfill. A regular occurrence for the Hero and once he does nearly every day when he’s not bogged downgrading his students' school work.
.
The I-line Tera yawns, large, sharp fangs glisten. He steps back from the skyscraper's edge; and continues his scope of the surrounding buildings.
Today has been a day full of accidents and mishaps. Cadets managed to get themselves injured during what were supposed to be risk-free activities.
The teacher’s meeting led to a discussion on ways to be more inclusive to newer species, sure to be coming with the ISC’s ever-growing reach. A topic he’d normally take part in, but the previous night of little sleep just brought him a simmer of annoyance with each word as time seemed to crawl by.
A’zawa’s long dark furn dances as a cool breeze messes it up. His soft-gray tail tightens around his neck. Ears flickering as It’r’lis city's night remains mundane and unbothered. His shift is almost over, and soon he’ll be able to curl up on his warm bed.
[BEEP]
He pauses, four eyes narrowing at the sound of his joint ICS-UA issued Communicator Alert beep. Usually, if something were happening and he was being called. It would be by phone through the local police enforcement…
Muscles tense.
Ear flicking back, he pulls up the small tablet. The thing weighs nothing and he turns it on. With a quick scan of his face, it unlocks.
He freezes, and the hackles rise as teeth bare.
Chapter 2: Orders
Summary:
Our boy's going through it.
What's A'zawa up to?
Notes:
Reminder: This story has graphic violence ^^ Please read the tags!
Also? Why did this chapter take forever? So much Worldbuilding and trying to figure out the future plot of this fic. Also? Drawing Art, so much art… I’m trying my best here ^^; also, first time writing other characters besides Izuku lol everyone else I’m still trying to get a handle on >w<
Anyway! Sorry for the wait, but I wanna try my best with this story <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter Two - Orders
Restrained to a metal table.
Screaming till his throat tore and blood coated the back of his mouth.
Breaking free and k i l l i n g his captors. His tor—
A sharp inhale pulls Izuku’s mind to the present. The action loosens the harsh tightness in his chest. Eyelids flutter, adjusting to the brightness of his…cell. Caught between a dead calmness and the dread of his future here. He stays lying on his side. Hair a mess, but clean from the shower he took before bed. The water ran at room temperature, neither cold nor warm.
Time passes and he doesn’t move. The leaf pile that is his new bed is… surprisingly comforting. Soft, dry, and retains his body heat. He curls up tighter, muscle tight, before unfurling and stretching out like a lazy house cat. Something pops and his body relaxes.
He still misses his bed.
Izuku frowns and pushes himself up, looking about the bright room. It’s quiet. Only the distant shuffle of life beyond his cell signals the start of another ‘day cycle.’
Soon the guards will deliver him ‘ breakfast’ .
They sometimes call him a Terranian. Izuku wonders if it means the same thing as it does back home… Of or relating to Earth. If so…how? How much is known of Earth? Did those early reaches into space do anything? It’s almost cliche, how even popular sci-fi forms figure Earth would be called Terra.
A small smile hesitantly settles upon Izuku’s freckled face.
Well, it’s better than Earthlings .
But…they also call him something else. A word twisted by sneers or brittle voices. A word made up of sharp ticks, rough, almost vowels. The word ends in a hiss. He doesn’t know what it means, but it must mean something significant, enough to bring about such— he winces— strong emotions.
The boy settles in his bed of leaves— it is a bed!— his mouth moving as he tries to replicate the word. His lips soar, but it’s not like there is much else he can do.
He’s taken note of the day and night cycle of this..uh— Prison? Fighting Arena?—Place. Anyway…he keeps track of when the lights turn on and off. The time cycle of ‘light’s switching from on and off’ is short. Much shorter than the days on earth.
So much so that he stays up through two full cycles of ‘light’s on and off’ before his normal sleep schedule kicks in and he’s forced to fall asleep in his new leaf bed. Today’s his third ‘light’s on’ time here. Izuku woke up as soon as the lights in his cell had turned back on.
Though…Izuku’s not sure how different the times are, and he could’ve slept through a full ‘light’s on’ period and not even noticed. Keeping track is near impossible without being able to measure any time…
Green eyes wander to the camera in the far right corner of the cell’s ceiling.
Time…how..how long has he been…missing? His next exhale is long and full of unsaid words.
Kacchan’s fearful red eyes.
His mom’s soft humming as she moves around the house.
Longer than a month at least…less than half a year…
“Everything will be okay, you’ll be okay.”
He will.
The cold metal wall gives a dull thud as his head bumps against it.
One of his best indicators of time is when he is brought food. At the start of each ‘light’s on’ period, the guards slide a tray of food into his cell.
Today seems no different.
The same glide of metal over metal becomes another way to track time. Lunchtime.
Green eyes flicker over to the food and—
Oh.
Izuku’s shoulders lower when he sees a long, closed, clear container of water.
Licking his lips, the boy walks over and keels next to it.
His collar beeps and—
Click-!
The lid pulls open giving him access to the crystal clear liquid.
Izuku sighs, taking a seat and picking the container up. He was worried his only water source would be those fruits filled with some kind of juice, or— a shutter— the shower.
The water sloshes about before he brings one of the rounded corners to his mouth and tips the thing back. Cool, refreshing water soothes his throat.
Some of it spills to the side of his face, but he quickly corrects his hold. Izuku takes three large gulps. His heart is loud in his ears before he forces himself to slow down.
Gasping air the boy sets down the half-full container. The lid remains open.
Thirst quenched, he looks over the tray.
The food is different aside from the purple meat. Izuku hopes they aren’t testing what plants he can eat…
He nibbles on the blue leaf, the familiar crunch of lettuce calms the growing caution. It tastes like grass, bland, but it’s edible.
.
A dull thud resounds from the right crystal window.
Izuku snaps to attention, leaf falling back onto the tray.
A tall, thin creature stands on the other side. One of their long-three-fingered hands pressed against the window’s iridescent surface.
Izuku holds still, taking in the other creature.
The Alien’s skin is a soft pink, like a sphinx. Veins visible.
The being is extremely tall, near the ceiling of the hallway as they ‘look’ down at the boy. Which…is hard to tell if they can even see him. As no visible eyes can be seen on their smooth face.
Their clothes are white, clean, and tight around the Alien’s body.
White fluffy fur drapes across the Alien’s shoulders and up their arms. Arms that are webbed like bat wings. Large pointed ears frame either side of the Alien's large, balloon-like head. The top is slightly transparent, it’s… brain visible as it floats in place.
Izuku’s shoulders rise, but he stays frozen in place.
The Aliens mouth is a hole filled with blood-red tentacles.
They tilt their head, and when they speak, their tentacles curl and twist. A strange mix of wet buzzing dances along Izuku’s ear drums.
He finches and his hands slam against his ears. “S- stop!”
The buzzing stops.
The Alien tilts their head the other way, and taps against the window with one of its long thin fingers.
“Terranian.”
It doesn’t sound right, but Izuku recognizes the word. One of the words they call him here. His hands pull up to his chest, fingers fidgeting with the front of his suit. Should…should he…?
He glances down at the food before looking back.
Izuku nods, “Terranian.”
The Alien straightens, tentacles flailing about, “Terranian! Enter the crate.” That same wet buzzing sound makes the boy physically cringe. Though it is lower, a whisper.
The alien stops. Jerking to look to the left of the hallways.
Huh? Izuku follows, head-turning while he stands up.
The sound of someone approaching echoes down the hallway.
He doesn’t want to walk closer to the window, so he stays standing in place.
Beep!
His muzzle clicks shut.
He swallows. Welp, now he can’t eat. Green eyes flicker over to the alien. Not that he has much of an appetite right now… Stomach bubbling with anxiety. Things are happening, new things.
A new voice calls out, melodic echoing, “Deathworlder!"
The eye-less Alien answers and Izuku covers his ears for a moment, “Come, it's time to fight. Understand? Do you understand?”
He steps back and Izuku watches as a large…white box? Crate? Slides forward, it’s as tall as the pink Alien, and it stops right in front of Izuku’s cell door.
That same cell door slams down into the floor. His heart is loud in his ears.
The crate is open and the inside is empty. The same small windows at the top. This is the crate they used to transport him to the arena.
He steps back.
A new Alien steps into view from the right, just barely able to be seen since the crate is obscuring most of the view of the windows.
This Alien is small. About half of Izuku’s height. They’re also very…fish-like. Like…a bipedal purple/blue fish-like being. They have jellyfish-tentacle-hair, Large glowing white eyes, long flowing fishing similar to a betta fish, and sharp irregular thin teeth. Their fins are constantly flowing.
They’re pretty, but the way they seem to glare at him has Izuku tense.
They speak again, “Deathworlder, it seems you don't. How a species like yours even reached the stars is a joke! Come here."
The other word they call him. The word Izuku struggles to pronounce. The way this new alien says it sounds…mocking.
Izuku hutches down and shakes his head, “No.”
The fish alien’s glowing white eyes narrow.
A yellow light comes to life at the corner of his eyes—
His collar—!
Sharp, burning electricity bites into his neck and runs through his body. Muscles seize and a choked cry barely breaks free of his mouth.
The light turns off and Izuku falls to the metal floor. His knees land and pain runs up his legs. His hands instinctively catch his fall and Izuku’s left gasping, muscles still twitching.
His vision blurs. The bright light of his cell hurts , sending his head throbbing.
“Ha! Not so scary when the press of a button can take you down."
The fish alien’s voice is followed by a singing laugh.
Izuku grabs at the burning and lets it fill his chest.
Yellow blood. Strapped to a metal table. Defiance—
He looks back up with bright green eyes, mouth open in a snarl. Salty tears roll down and into his mouth.
The tall, eyeless Aliens voice draws the fish-Alien’s attention. “Why don't you just give up?"
The fish alien’s jellyfish-tentacle-hair rises, purple fins flaring out, "You can fight, isn't that what you want?"
“You will learn your place here, Terranian. You will fight."
A new feeling wraps around his neck. Like ice-cold hands.
“Enter the Crate.”
Green eyes widen as something yanks him forward and throws him into the crate. He crashes into the other side, hitting the wall and sliding onto the crate's floor. He yells, having slammed into his left shoulder.
The wall facing his cell door closes with a sharp clang. Metal clicks and something latches shut.
He’s left in darkness.
Only a little light manages to filter through the small windows.
No.
NO.
Izuku scrambles up and stumbles over to the now closed wall. Hands press against its smooth surface.
His shoulder twinges in protest.
“L-let me out!” He bangs against the wall.
The crate starts moving again and he falls back down to the floor.
Bu-thump.
A…another fight. He’s going to fight again.
He throws the rock in his hand—
A sickening squelch—
Orange blood splatters out, showering the boy in a warm, wet, spray.
Eyes blank and face in a forever snarl.
Bu-thump.
His breathing comes out short, fast. The sound is almost a comfort despite how tight his chest feels.
His eyes squeeze shut.
The deafening roar of the full colosseum both signaled the start of the next fight and muffled the sickening squelch of flesh and bone. Yellow blood splattered and stained the heavy boot that continued to grind the once small being to death.
A deep sigh singed with bitter annoyance at the thought of dealing with the pest. If only the stupid thing hadn’t raised such a childish fuss. The Scavenger’s self-preservation instincts must be non-existent.
Huh. He shouldn’t be surprised, the thing’s whole life centered around getting into and doing risky jobs that others would shy away from.
The eight-legged alien raised his boot with a tinge of curiosity. Maybe he should’ve just kept this pest as a pet?
A sharp, choppy laugh tumbled from his mandibles. Whoops.
The crackle of a translator caressed the thick shell of his carapace, “[Sir, the Deathworlder has rested and eaten its meal.]”
A familiar being stood in the doorway to his ‘Office’. Her fin continued to flow as she stood still, eyes closed and head bowed in a show of respect.
“[R’za, I trust the Doctor's analysis and studies have proven fruitful.]” He turns and takes a seat at his desk. The heated rock draws a pleased hiss. Pointed forearms tap against his desk’s surface. “[It’s ready for battle.]”
“[Of course, Sir!]”
Six eyes narrow, and with the click of dripping fangs, a gray button on the side of his desk is pressed.
R’za doesn’t even flinch, barely reacting as another enters the room from the shadows.
“[Drah-Zik]”
The huge alien crowds the room. Beetle-like wings flutter at the sound of his name before a head, the shape of an ax, bows to his leader. The pair of willow tree-like horns nearly scrape against the ceiling.
A mechanical arm rest against his bulky chest, “[Sir?]”
Six eyes settled upon the giant Alien, his voice hardens and only the slight chitter of his chelicerae portrays his amusement at the situation, “[The ISC are already aware of the Poaching, and soon they will find our little Terranian here.]”
Neither subordinates move, listening.
“[I don’t think I need to tell you what must be done.]” Their boss leans forward, appendix cracking with the movement, “[Whoever they send, I would prefer it if you were to capture them alive, hm?]
“[Yes, Sir.]” Is said in unison.
Is silent for a moment…before another thunderous cry of the arena fills the underground room. Muffled by the walls the noise still causes the room to tremble.
Another bout of sharp, choppy laughter is freely expressed as their leader leans back. One of his pointed forearms swipes a napkin off his desk, the thin hairs gripping the fabric.
He barely glances down as he wipes yellow blood and fur off his boot. Word said lightly as if mentioning a slightly interesting event. “[It seems our new pet is already fulfilling its new purpose.]” A light glimmers in six black eyes. “[Let’s hope the thing can live up to its monstrous reputation.]”
.
Please —
The creature fights to pin its prey to the ground. Their scaled chest presses against Izuku’s braced arms, pushing and thrashing about. A bulky, rocky, head bent down, its long mouth snapping about. Teeth aching to rip and tear-!
Izuku arches his back, legs scrambling for purchase against the sandy floor.
Please — “Stop!”
Sweat drips down his neck and a fresh wash of tears blurs the boy's vision.
Blunt nails dig into rough flesh— It shouldn’t be easy! It shouldn’t be—!
“I-I don’t want to—!”
Long pale Claws rake at his suit's chest armor.
Its tail whips about, smacking on red dirt.
The spectators are shouting, cheering, and begging for bloodshed.
Freckled face red as his breath comes in fast and unsteady. Stay away, stay away, stay away—
“— kill you!” Izuku twists and shoves .
Something under rough skin— not him, no pain, he’s okay — breaks.
The reptilian creature— like a large monster lizard with flowering fins and one red eye— screeches. Body rolling and skirting across the desert plain. A cloud of dust explodes around it blocking his vision.
Quiet.
Izuku pushes himself up, eyes locked in the direction of the Alien animal. His hair is a mess, red dirt coating his form.
The dust settles.
And the audience applauds. Shouting, clapping, a sea of noise. Joy in place of fear and pain. Wrong and—
The creature is limp. Still and it’s—
Dead, dead, dead. He killed —
The announcer's voice breaks through the roll of the crowd's glee. But it’s meaningless and only fans the flames. Pouring gasoline on already roaring spectators.
The boy pushes himself to his feet, the battle hadn’t lasted long, he—
Grinding stone pulls wide green eyes to the other side of the ground floor.
Chains rattle in the distance.
No.
His head shakes, hair bouncing. Dust and dirt fall free.
It’s…it’s supposed to be over—!
A new, giant, slime-covered, maggot-like creator scuttles forward. Pincers snap open and close.
Izuku’s heart leaps into his throat and he swears he tastes blood. A nauseous, crawling feeling churns his gut.
He looks up and out to the full stands. Bright stadium lights threaten to blind him. Just…just how long…?
His bare hand's fist. Blue blood crusted under his nails.
…How long until they are satisfied?
A squeal from the new Alien demands his attention. The thing is huge, the size of a small house. Its eye-less form points right at him. Its body shutters and rolls forward—
Izuku leaps to the left—
Liquid splashes against the ground where he once stood. A high-pitched sizzling sound comes from the now foaming neon-green puddle. Fumes rise, disorienting the world above it. Acid.
Breath.
In.
Out—
“[It’s perfect.]”
Six eyes watch as the Deathworlder runs about, dodging the Xot’git’s spit. The audience has only grown larger since the first fight. Word gets around fast and— “[Just how much have we made already?]”
A bright, energetic voice like the falling of rain, comes from the telecommunicator on his desk, “[Already over normal margins by 75%, Sir!]”
A pleased hiss responds, and one of his forearms taps his desk’s hard surface.
.
Planet: Risnlatra
July 18th 22xx
One of ISC’s much smaller office rooms— One of its many, many, spare rooms— became an unofficial meeting room For the Team assigned to the new Retrieval Mission. Though, small wasn’t what came to mind when entering. The ceiling is tall, about [12 ft].
The room itself is circular, the windows bend with the curve. The windows are the standard one-way Th’derra’lane metal, able to see the city below.
A large circular table— light gray, a bright blue light glowed on the side before meeting the glass top— stood in the middle of the room. The center is open, enough for the ‘speaker’ to walk around.
Chairs— Alartian Bags, able to be molded for those that don’t fit the ‘standard’ bipedal form— set around the table, enough to seat at least ten sentients. Three of which are already occupied by a few high-ranking staff. Two Arch’Lyx and one P’steel’um. Though it seems they’re— like himself— keeping to themselves. Though he recognizes one of them as being part of the head council, one of the Arch’Lyx, Ilii’Xns. A no-nonsense individual and someone he’s happily had little interaction with.
A large screen took up the back wall. On it displayed images of the planet Terra. The planet's classification: Class 12 Deathworld, is written in intergalactic common, bold, red letters.
It’s been [5 days] since A’zawa’s been assigned to this mission and the ICS’s still prepping them before take off.
A’zawa took a seat close to the door and relaxed on top of the squishy bag. The can of [coffee] rested in his paw, the cold a nice distraction from the mounting headache. The can of cold [Coffee variant] opened with a sharp Pop and Click under the press of A’zawa’s extended claws.
His white fluff curled tighter, and the I-line Thera relaxed under his tail’s warmth.
Bringing the can to his mouth he took a slow sip, mind still going over the ISC’s mission debriefing.
Evidence— claw marks, blood, footage from security cameras, etc— gathered from the Alatheina Poacher’s Ship. Pointed to the trespassing and capture of the Terranian being premeditated, planned Rulin’s ago.
The actual poaching took a mere Zin and the next Cyon ended in the Terranian’s escape and slaughter of the crew. The shaky footage of the attack is something of a nightmare. Gruesome but quick. The Terranian didn’t seem interested in dragging anything out. The following footage was rather uneventful afterward, or at least what was shown. The being ran around, exploring a bit, before seeming to just give up and taking refuge in the ship's storage room. A whole Rulin passed before the footage ended. Presumably, on purpose.
Indentions on the side of the ship lead to their only lead. Their only clue as to what happened to the Deathworlder after. Where it might be if it hadn't already died or been killed.
He took another sip. Ears pressing back.
Terranians…come from a blacklisted galaxy called the: [Milky Way]. Home to a Class - 12 Deathworld named: Terra. Thus a majority simply call the Terranians Deathworlders.
Not much is known about the species. The subject is only taught in the last Sinark for graduating Cadets . The history is short, starting with observations from the ISC watching and debating First-Contact with the young species. The Terranians were new to space travel, still bound to their Solar System.
Then calamity struck.
The Zoxilaur Ca’terian’s a known barbaric species that thrived on violence and the conquering of weaker planets. Their reach and power had been a growing problem for the ISC, the higher-ups finding themselves useless by the time the Zoxilaur Ca’terians had targeted Terra. Their next victims. Too late to intervene by the time of the attack.
No one expected the young Terranians to massacre the invading race like a swarm of angry Alitrin Stinger’s. Bright lights exploded and burst, as ships could be seen being destroyed on the Earth's surface. The few— 28— surviving Zoxilaur Ca’terians died from their wounds, merely Zin’s afterward. Accounts taken turned into horror stories: A Deathworld, Extreme-climates, and a variety of dangerous life of all kinds. The dominant species are able to consume not just meat and plant life, but poison and acid. The Terranians were just as horrible... Chemical warfare, weapons of mass destruction, and the way Terranians fought to the death despite serious injuries. An unmerciful race that fought to the death. Strength unmatched by living on a high gravitational planet. Just landing felt like being crushed under its own atmosphere. Mercy for a quick death was all they could hope for.
Soon the few survivors died of their wounds, a strange poison in their veins.
The quiet later spoke warning to any future adversaries.
Forever the planet Terra and its galaxy [Milky Way] is blacklisted from any otherworldly contact.
It should’ve stayed that way.
ZRT-BEEP!
A’zawa stayed still, barely reacting to the entrance sliding open as his Team spilled in. The room’s other three occupants also don’t acknowledge the new arrival.
“Sho’aaaaa!”
He kept his gaze forward as bright yellow-orange feathers danced at the edge of his vision.
.
“Can you believe it!? A Terranian! Who Poaches a Terranian!?” The other’s voice wavered. The others' voice is loud and free from the slight minute distortion of a standard translator. Not that the Volicor needed one, the species can mimic another language with ease, a trait that expanded the species' demand throughout the far reaches of space.
A clawed hand landed upon the I-line Thera’s arm, but A’zawa held still, voice coming out as a lazy drawl, displaying his lack of sleep, “ Present Mic —”
He finally turned, catching others’ pout at the Alias.
“—Sit down.”
“Enough to give chills~ Spoken like a true Dad—!”
“[—Awe, Sho’a.]” A sultry voice cuts in, the smaller, floral Alien strides past the two, taking a seat one away from A’zawa’s own. “[Mission Briefing is about to start and you still aren’t awake~?]”
.
Two pairs of yellow cat-like eyes slide to the side, “[I’ll be fine, Neh’muur’ii]”
ZRT-BEEP!
“[Greetings, Eraserhead, Present Mic, Midnight! ]” A glissando of sharp beeps signaled ‘happiness’ from the last-to-arrive teammate.
H’Za’Shii trilled, feather puffing out as he moved to greet the other, “10-C-A! How’s The fastest Hero of Metagalactic Space doin’?”
The lights that shone under said hero’s suit flash yellow, “[All systems up to optimal levels.]” Yellow turned blue, “[Though I’m sure you’re asking about my emotional/mental state. I am looking forward to this mission!]”
The tall, white armored Z’thero Hero Robot glides forward, quick to take a seat beside Neh’muur’ii. Neon blue ‘eyes’ light up from his helmet, finding themselves upon the large screen on the back wall.
The screen changes, drawing the Team’s attention. H’Za’Shii takes a seat beside A’zawa.
The Arch’Lyx, Ilii’Xns stands, a remote in their translucent blue hand. One of the buttons is pressed and profiles of each of them pop up upon the bright screen. Detailed information on each of them, coupled with their new Aliases.
.
10-C-A I’Da: Pilot (Yellow)
Criminal Alias: Ingenium
Criminal Occupation: Robot, Ship expert, Pilot
A’zawa Sho’a: Fighter (Blue)
Criminal Alias: Eraserhead
Criminal Occupation: Fighter, bodyguard jobs, selling guns
Neh’muur’ii K’ya’ma: Espionage (Green)
Criminal Alias: Midnight
Criminal Occupation: Poison expert and knives/swords
H’Za’Shii Ya’Ma’Da: Rescue (Red)
Criminal Alias: Present Mic
Criminal Occupation: Trainer, Smuggling exotic animals
Two dichoptic eyes remain unblinking as Ilii’Xns turns their head around the room. The breathing mask around their mouth is connected to a tank that’s attached to their Thorax.
When they speak, bubbles bloom from within with a muffled burble, “[The four Aliases created at the start of your undercover work will be used in this mission for their already established presence.]”
The Arch’Lyx clicks a button and the Profiles cluster together, the colored triangles on each now expand. “[Together the ISC has chosen your team for your specialized areas of expertise.]”
The first screen of the planet Terra pop’s up, “[As you’ve come to understand,]” This time, an Alatheina Poacher’s ship— its side is torn open— takes up the screen. “[There's been a breach in security and Poacher’s had gotten their grip on a Terranian.]”
A’zawa can feel the tension in the air. The way his fellow crewmates tense with rapt attention. He too has stopped drinking from this can of [coffee], ears erect.
This time, when the screen changes, the reaction is immediate and visible, H’Za’Shii’s head feathers stand straight up, Neh’muur’ii clicks sharply, 10-C-A’s lights flash white, and A’zawa’s hackles rise.
Snapshots from the security footage pop up. The Deathworlder crouches over one of the Alatheina Poachers, but its head is turned up, staring right at the camera.
He stares back and a chill runs down his upper spine.
“[Today we will be informing you of everything we know of this species of Deathworlder.]” Static images of a scatter of various ships, “[However most of what we know comes from the now extinct Zoxilaur Ca’terian race as previous research has been halted due to the Terranian’s aggressive force to any outside contact.]”
Even A’zawa can sense the aggravated tone from the normally stoic Ilii’Xns.
“[That’s where Present Mic comes in.]” Another cloud of bubbles burst forth, and his friend H’Za’Shii tilts his head, “[His expertise in rescue has made him more capable in other fields as well. Understanding and learning about other Species has made him more aware of how to act when you encounter the Terranian.]”
Not that it needed to be said, but for a moment A’zawa feels a flash of pride, eyes glancing over to the Volicor.
“[Still, all information we have will be uploaded to your Tablets for future reference and research. Present Mic, I trust you’ll have it all memorize before take off?]”
His friend bobs his head, head feathers dance with the motion, “Of course! They don’t call me Memory Mind for nothing!”
One of the I-line Thera’s ear twitches and he huffs. No one calls you that!
“[...Right.]” Another flutter of bubbles and the screen changes again. 10-C-A’s profile covers the entire screen. “[Your Team leader for this mission will be, 10-C-A I’Da.]”
Said Z’thero beeps, “[I won’t let you down!]”
The rest of the team gives a sign of acknowledgment, H’Za’Shii outright trilling, Neh’muur’ii buzzing melodically, and A’zawa purrs the end of his white tail swaying.
A turn of Ilii’Xn’s head, “[I trust not.]” A click and another picture of the Deathworlder takes up the screen. This time the Arch’Lyx clicks the remote again and the screen moves, a video.
The creature is kicking one of the Poachers, and—
The I-line Thera’s four eyes widen, and pupils turn to slits.
— its foot pierces through the Alatheina’s chest cavity. Yellow blood sprays forth like someone’s stabbed the flesh of an overly ripe Mii’Wz fruit.
The crew is given a moment to digest the… nightmare-inducing video, before Ilii’Xns speaks again, “[Now, once again your mission is to retrieve the Deathworlder. But, your highest priority is keeping it from causing harm or destruction to Risnlatra or any of our allied Planets. And…]”
Another picture, this time a zoomed-in shot of the Terranian from before, the one of it’s looking dead on at the camera.
“[…if it’s deemed too dangerous to retrieve? Terminate it. ]”
.
Izuku’s exhausted by the fifth fight, and they must know that, with the way he stumbles with exhaustion. Acid had eaten away at his suit's sleeves. Claw marks decorate his legs. Red drips down them, fitting in with the streaks of red dirt.
He tried to go easy at first, tried to run, tried to stall, tried to reason . But every round ends the same.
Izuku hugs himself, arms like a lifesaver as he’s dealt with a raging ocean. Is this life now? More and more bloodshed? Death?
Green eyes dart over to the wall and fencing that protects the audience. Izuku needs to escape this palace. He knows that. But the bite of his collar reminds him of the pain of electricity, reminds him of the injection that has him out in seconds. The boy needs to escape, yes, but will he even be given a chance? It's like his time with his first abductors. He had escaped his cage, only to find himself in a bigger one.
But he can’t give up.
The grind of stone on stone signals the start of the sixth round and the arrival of his next…opponent.
Bu-dump.
Holding a thin flimsy looking spear, the Alien stands on four legs. They wear rust-colored pants that end with black boots. Their long sleeved-shirt is torn up, brown, and loose. Their bumpy skin is gray. White hair(?) spiked out of their head like a mohawk. Four large bunny-like ears flair out around their head.
They’re facing away from him, clinging to the wall that blocks them in—
Trapping them in the arena.
Bu-dump.
H-he’s killed before. Killed the Alien that took him. He killed the Alien animals that attacked him in the arena. Regret lingers with both, both for different reasons, but they both plague his dreams and eat at his thoughts if he doesn’t keep himself busy. But he has to survive.
Izuku’s hands tremble as they latch onto his suit. But this? This…This wasn’t the same.
Yellow blood. A scalpel. Restraints.
Orange eyes locked onto his, eyeing him with a different kind of hunger, starving for knowledge.
The Sentient Being in front of him isn’t trying to hurt him. They’re trying to run away.
He’s…he’s going to be sick. His gut churns, feels the blood leave his face. His muscles tense, body stuck between running away or preparing for an attack.
The Alien continues to bang uselessly against the pink stone wall. Glancing back and screaming.
The sound brings forth a fresh wave of tears to green eyes.
He looks up to the surrounding crowd, the audience vicious in its need for bloodshed. The bright field lights threaten to blind him as his mind races.
I..I only need to win. That…doesn’t mean I have to…k-kill them…right? The doubt eats at his mind and he fights for the hope that clings to the edges of his mounting despair. I’m already aware of my strength, I just have to tone it down and…
He swallows hands trembling as they grip the front of his suit.
…knock them out.
A small hiccup of hysterical laughter. Easier said than done… His breath comes out shaky, grip tightening, eye slamming shut. …I might not even be right .
The strange scattering of movement on sand, close and drawing closer—!
—Green eyes fly open.
Legs coil and— A pointed spear in his face— release.
Izuku shoots up—
.
—and away.
The world shrinks, up, up, up he goes. Stomach dropping. So high up, that the crowd’s all-encompassing roar fills him like the buzz from an angry storm of bees. Izuku’s mess of green hair whips forward, hands still raised to block the spear that’s now far below him.
For a moment he’s weightless. An old dream flashes through his mind, a memory of a childish dream. Seven years old, wearing a bright white puffy space suit as he soars through space, eyes wide in wonder as the size of earth, its beautiful blue makes his home planet look magnificent.
And then Izuku’s falling, the memory slips from his grasp. A sound, something messy, crossed between a shout and unfinished words. How do I land?!
He shuts his eyes, arms coming up as he braces for impact—
The crash creates a large cloud of red dust blocking the audience’s view of the arena.
Something gives and— cracks!
He- he’s—!
Tense muscles hold still. Heart fluttering about like a frantic bird.
But the pain never comes.
The noise of the spectators falls like harsh rain.
Izuku opens his eyes.
He’s…he’s okay. Nothing broken, nothing hurts.
The relief’s so great that Izuku almost melts into the ground. Head falling back against the ground.
Thank fuck.
A shadow falls over his form—
—!!!—
—The boy looks up.
And.
Time stills.
The constant scream of onlookers floods his ears.
The sentient Alien is above him. Having leaped from the ground at some point. Their mouth bares yellowing teeth and piercing pale-pink eyes.
The spear raised and pointed right at him—
His arm darts out—
—and grabs the spear so hard his knuckles turn white. The point is inches from his face.
The metal gives with a Crunch. The spearhead wilts before falling harmlessly against the armor of his suit with a dull thunk. The metal(?) tip only leaves a faint mark.
Distantly, Izuku hears another crash of waves at their onlooker's whoop and shout.
The Alien stills. Face falling, the emotion so human Izuku’s heart skips, words already falling from his lips.
“Please! Please, I don’t want to fight—!”
—The Alien’s maw snaps and their body bears down upon him. Acting more animal than anything else. Mirroring Izuku’s earlier fight. The Aliens hands release their grip on the spear as claws instead reach out to his freckled face, throat, anything—
—Izuku choaks on his spit as he tries to twist away, turning in the red sand and kicking up dirt. “S- STOP!” The spear’s handle is now used as a thin barrier to keep the other back.
Teeth continue to snap, but it’s slightly easier to keep this Alien away, obviously less strong than the large lizard creator he had to fight already. But the other’s four legs press down on his own and he doesn’t want to kill—
The lizard alien. Down and dead. So very dead dead dead.
Too much strength.
Izuku grits his teeth, already lifting and positioning his left leg.
The Alien above him is spitting, probably saying something, but just like his own words, they don’t reach.
His leg relaxes—
Just…just a small kick. Winded and down. They’ll b-be okay…
—Before it meets the Alien’s chest—
—sending the other soaring back.
It’s so quick. A flash of movement.
A distant thud— a body hitting the ground— sends his already racing heart leaping into his throat.
Please be okay.
Izuku pushes himself up, the pole of the spear rolling off to the side. The rally of the audience means nothing.
About fifty feet in front of him—
Bu-dump.
— The Alien lays motionless.
No.
Constricting— KillerKillerKiller — chains wrap around his torso.
Sweat rolls down his neck. Pressure builds and he’s already up and running over.
More noise, the overlooking audience so muffled and fuzzy it’s merely background noise as the rest of the world falls away.
Bare feet press against soft sand just as he falls to his knees beside— A whine. Less like a dog and more like the cry of a rusty merry-go-round. But a whine that brings a rush of sweet sweet relief.
Izuku presses his hands on the other, but he’s not even sure if he’d be able to tell if things were broken. Are broken….please don’t be broken. He…he hadn’t heard a snapcruchbreak. Not like when he had hit the lizard.
The Alien makes more noise, words, they must be words.
“You’re okay, you’ll be okay. I won, so maybe you’ll—”
That name. That name he can’t pronounce yet. The other name they call him. Rumbles from the Alien’s mouth.
Pale pink eyes meet his own.
He’d never heard the word spoken with such… dispair.
“What…?”
A sharp beep—
A bright red light.
Comes from the collar around the Alien’s neck—
A horrid, wet, sound is followed by a disturbing crunch and the spray of something warm that showers Izuku’s freckled face.
The Alien’s head rolls away; Like a broken toy.
Izuku doesn’t know when he had pressed a hand to his face, but he looks down at his when it pulls away and—
Ah.
The Alien’s blood is red.
The audience's joy feels like mockery.
A much quieter beep comes from his own collar— the familiar sting of something fills his jugular…
…and his world fades to black as unconsciousness takes him.
.
Planet: Risnlatra
July 20th 22xx
10-C-A’s Team boards their ship, taking one last look at the station behind them. A weight hangs over the crew, knowledge of their mission drifts like smoke in the air.
Strapping in, the ship takes off, beginning their new journey.
Notes:
I’m just sitting here thinking how Izuku really doesn’t know if his kick actually did anything, the guy could still have internal bleeding or a least a nasty bruise. He’s trying his best okay?
Also! I hope you guys like this chapter! Hope the pictures help with visuals ^t^ Yes Tensei's design is basically his Hero Suit, but I like it and didn't really want to change that. ONly diff is he has glowing blue eyes :3 Already excited for the next chapter~!!!
Chapter 3: Hope(less)
Notes:
I'm back with a new chapter!!! Hope you guys like! remember to read the tags!
NOTE: Georga Font is the past!!! FLASHBACK!!!! Okay?
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter Three - Hope(less)
Death.
Killed.
I killed them—
Beep…
Beep…
Beep…
Heavy.
Bubbles burst from his mouth. The sound of being underwater.
Hands press against glass.
W H E R E A M I ?
His mind s i n k s.
Day of Abduction
June 13th 22xx
---
White light engulfs him.
He’s weightless. Feet leaving the ground as the world around him dances around as if caught in a storm.
“KACCHAN! RUN!” Izuku’s yell is soundless to his own ears, the abnormal resounding metallic wave of sound drowns out everything else. He’s not even sure if his voice is able to reach the other. Kacchan.
But Izuku still sees him. Heart painfully fast as thoughts of why isn’t he running?! Fly through his head. The boy from his childhood doesn’t move. Frozen to the ground where Izuku pushed him out of the way—
Red eyes stay locked on him, the other’s mouth hanging open and—
White turns blue. Ice spills into his veins. Like…playing a game…his vision distorts.
.
Fear has him gasping under its pressure. He barely registers the room he’s in— Bright, too bright— before red shoes hit metal flooring and he’s running —
Right into a clear wall.
His impact sounds like hitting plastic. Warped and muffled.
A long crack explodes across the surface.
Izuku bounces back and lands on his tailbone.
Tears prick at his eyes but he ignores the pain that comes from his face and backside.
He scrambles back up. Flight pulls at his heart as a fire urges him to Run, run, run!
The boy looks up—
—His body jerks to a halt.
Izuku stands still. Frozen in place, one foot still placed forward and hand still raised to his bleeding nose. The warm liquid rolls down, over his lips and down his chin, dripping onto the metal floor.
The glass— plastic?— is clear…and Izuku is able to see the… being’s on the other side. Tall, bipetal, thin creatures. Dark browns in color with bright red streaks that run down their spiked limbs.
A single yellow eye in the middle of their tall pointed head stares right at him.
His breathing shallows. A tight cord chaffs and pulls around his chest. His knees bend, smaller, ready to bolt.
Mouths open and the three figures display crooked pointed teeth.
The hairs on his arms rise, and he steps back.
Noise, the three beings speak . Or he thinks they do. The noise means nothing to him and their gestures don’t make sense. But an obvious conversation takes place as wet clicks and static buzzing bounce from one to another.
The discussion stops and one of the three beings— Aliens, Aliens, Aliens. They’re real. I was right. What the fuc — raises a hand and presses it against the cracked window. Translucent webbing stretches between four fingers. Bulbous suckers on the end of each one.
The glass surface glows luminescent neon green. Rounded rectangles filled with unknown squiggly symbols.
Green eyes lock onto the middle Alien’s hand as it moves across the screen(?). Flipping through various texts ad shapes. Before stopping in a large circle. More symbols follow the curve all the way around. A smaller circle inside of the larger one has a filled-in green triangle.
With a twist of the Alien’s hand, the circle turns and the room is bathed in red lighting.
Izuku stiffens, looking up to the tube lighting around the top edges of the round room. For a moment he’s reminded of a streamer's room. The streamers he’s watched on his laptop after school. The random topics they’d cover, various comics, the supernatural, conspiracy theories. For a moment the thought is so normal the reality of his situation sends his emotions reeling. Lost, fear spiking at the wrongness of everything.
A mechanical click has him jerking to the far left of the window.
He takes another step back, already having taken in the lack of exits. Stuck in an oval room.
A large, sleek white and dark grey gun attached to the ceiling follows his movement. Red Light runs along its sides and around the muzzle.
Izuku hasn’t even seen a gun in real life. TV and the Internet already proving their destructive power. Shootings, death.
And now one is pointed right at him.
The blood drains from his face. They aren’t going to just kill me, right?
He throws a panicked gaze back to the three Aliens. But they’re just standing there, staring right back.
He swallows, “Wait—!”
The gun goes off—
A sharp pain pierces his shoulder.
He blinks…thoughts cease. Before he slowly turns and…and…? A dart? Is sticking out of his left shoulder. A small glass vile with a needlepoint. The liquid inside…bright purple…drains into him.
Hands grab at the small thing— My hands. I've been injected with something — yanking and throwing it across the room. The small pop of glass shattering— like a dropped light bubble— echos throughout the room.
Izuku’s own ragged breaths follow.
He blinks, again.
His stomach rolls.
This…
This isn’t…I’ve been…!
When Izuku turns back to the three Aliens, his vision warps. Doubling and falling with after images. Colors spark and fade. Blue and green in a sea of red.
Green eyes roll back as the boy’s knees hit the ground.
Present Day
July 17th 22xx
---
Alarms go off. An annoying ring that clangs dully like a cowbell. Various guards move quick steps frantic as they run to and fro. Panic.
R’za is in a room with a camera on all of the cells.
A single guard burst into the room, “[The Terrānian’ is escaping! Commander—!]”
A fin rises and she motions to one of the screens with one of her jellyfish stingers. Her body wavers pink and purple, “[Watch.]”
The thing’s fist has punched through the crystal but he doesn’t move any further.
His collar sparks but the Deathworlder is barely reacting and the guard glances down at the desk. The L’dan’ral sees R’za’s other fin on the collar’s control pad. The setting is low, a warning.
The guard's three eyes move back to the screen. The view of the Deathworlder is evident as it stays in place.
Then, the crystal reacts . Shards of the windows opening splinter out and begin to encase the Deathworlder’s fist.
The creature jerks its fist back— crystal shatters—and steps away from the window as it repairs itself.
The commander, R’za, huffs, “[See?]” and leans back in her chair. Fins flowing without wind.
She glances back to the guard, “[Get back to work.]”
Present Day
July 18th 22xx
---
Izuku barely moves from his bed of leaves as the sound of approaching guards grows closer.
Toxic green eyes slid open in slits, glaring at the front of his cell where he knows his captors can see him; See his hostile, burning glower.
Again. They want him to fight again after…!
Pale pink eyes meet his own.
He’d never heard the word spoken with such… despair.
Izuku’s heartaches and he curls even tighter with the mournful pain. Lashes flutter, keeping them from blurring. He’s already cried himself to an unwelcome sleep and he’s not ready to be drawn under again.
Izuku’s cell door pulls up. The now familiar sound of decompressing air has him looking away and burrowing deeper into his bed. Anything to feel more grounded.
The entrance to his crate is ready for transportation. The fish Alien's song voice sing’s out to him. It has an edge to it, uncaring and more commanding than inviting. “[----- — —--- —-- —---------.]” A pause, “[-- — —- – —---.]”
He doesn’t have to look up to see that the far corner’s security camera is locked on his unmoving form.
His collar comes to life, static biting into his neck sending his jugular thrumming. Izuku grits his teeth and hunkers down, bracing his body against the front side of his bed.
There’s a tug against his body, yanking him toward the open entrance to his cell.
But he stays in place, eye-opening to stare right at the fish Alien.
His collar beeps— he tenses— and Izuku can’t even scream as electricity shoots out of the collar. His already tight muscles constrict even more. Green hair, already a mess, flairs out like a dandelion.
It stops.
Izuku collapses. Sweat coats his skin and a sharp muffled whine is accompanied by his heavy breathing.
“[---- — — —- —-- - —-?]” The slight lit in the Aliens voice is the only thing that tells him they’re asking a question. Though he’s sure it’s mocking, not expecting an answer.
So he does, voice horse with disuse, “...I’m not…fighting…” He looks up again, making sure the Alien can meet his acidic stare, “Not anymore.”
Glowing white eyes look back. Devoid of an iris or pupil, it’s hard to tell if they’re actually looking at him, instead of at him . But the other guards and prisoners have usually hated Izuku’s stare, so he only hopes the action is as threatening and definite enough to glean the meaning of his words to them.
Not that they’ll actually listen to him even if they do understand. They’re his… keepers , the same creature forcing him to fight to the death. Izuku’s ready for them to ignore him and continue forcing him into the arena again.
The fish-Alien glimmers , colors more purple than pink. Jellyfish tentacles rise before they bubble out a few musical notes.
They turn and…the heavy metal door to his cell…slides back down.
They leave.
What?
Izuku forces his aching body up.
Propped on his elbows, he continues to stare where the Fish-Alien had stood. Nerves come to life and buzz with uncertainty.
His head swerves— like a bird— up to his cell’s security camera. Its red light is off.
For the next hour, Izuku stays in place, heartbeat loud in his ears and muscles still sore from his collar.
But nothing happens…
Until something does.
The rattle of a cart draws close, stopping and starting before guards arrive at his own cell.
There’s a hushed conversation, words still failing to make sense to Izuku. Except for the mention of that word they call him. Harsh hisses and clicks. Said with a slight tremble.
That same word is mimicked back to them, from Izuku’s own mouth.
The conversation stops.
A high-pitched screech bursts from the small fluffy guard and they dart behind the cart.
The Lizard-Alien’s spikes are up, mouth open as they look back at him. Their tail lashes out behind them.
Izuku repeats the word.
Lizard-Alien looks away, stepping back, “[---- —- —-- – —.]”
The other’s voice comes from behind the cart, “[-----? — —- —!]”
“[------- - – – — – —- - — – —.]” They near mumble before moving to the cart.
A tray is slid through the bottom of his cell’s metal door. Izuku looks over and watches as it stops only a few feet from his bed.
The smaller one’s voice is sharp, “[---- —- — — – —...]”
They leave too.
Izuku waits a little more before he gets up and retrieves his food. Apprehension has his stomach in knots, but it’s always better to eat. Starving isn’t fun.
It isn’t until the night cycle hits that he wonders why they hadn’t just injected him so he’d be knocked out.
Days of Experimentation
???
---
Sleep and Dreams quickly transform into Nightmares.
Burning pain runs up his arms: needles, wires, blood.
Darkness pulls him further down and leaves reality just out of reach. The few times he’s able to struggle — has the mind to even think of doing such a thing — heavy eyelids either:
- Snap open with the jump and sprint of his heart.
Restrained, a new pain registers— burning, stabbing, scraping, electric PAIN — before he screams. Fight or flight taking over—
Or…2. Consciousness comes back to him gradually.
It’s in moments like those. The ones that aren’t a flash of fear then the same darkness….those moments he’s able to think…to try to make sense of what’s going on around him…what’s being done to him.
Bright light always greets him. Either overhead or through …horizontal metal bars. But he never has time to do anything . Body aching, sharp jolts of pain run up his spine. Sometimes his stomach tightens and churns. The sensation has him gagging. Nothing ever comes up, just more saliva filling his mouth.
It’s worse when he hangs between consciousness and the numb tug of sleep. When strange ‘hands’ yank him from his ‘Cage’. They strap him down and he can only pray he’ll fall under before any pain can hit. If he can’t embrace unconsciousness, he’s left to…suffer. Cuts. Burns. Noises leave him and they sound off. Wrong. Curses and words that turn to snarls and whines. Crying. All with the single thread of a sentence that comes from his frayed mind: WHAT DO THEY WANT FROM ME?
If he’s able to get up, no one goes to fetch him.
They leave him alone while Izuku sits and stares out into the sanitizing white room on the other side. A gripping, pulling weariness hangs off his bones. His mind is a thousand times slower as thoughts drift and struggle to make sense of everything. Anything.
The… Aliens move, nearly gliding as they cross the room, and talk amongst themselves. Voices void of emotion, almost bored, As if this is normal. As if…what they’re doing to him is normal.
Who knows…For them? It probably is. How many have they taken? What do they hope to accomplish from their inhumanity?
Sitting up takes energy, a balance between falling back and staying up. He sways in place, forcing himself to watch and listen. Hoping to catch anything of importance.
The bars of his… cage… are hard dark, nearly black metal. The gaps between each bar are pretty spacious and he’s sure he could reach out to the white room.
But any attempts are put to a stop as an invisible eclectic field zaps at the approach of curious hands. The sound is a light buzz and the sparks are a light luminescent blue.
Izuku stares until ten minutes later when exhaustion finally drags him down.
.
Present Day
July 20th 22xx
---
It doesn’t last long.
Izuku wakes up in the transportation crate. Trapped. He bangs against the walls eyes wide. No. Nonononono. “NO.”
Izuku falls back and finds himself in a corner. Face pale as his mind crumbles. He can’t. Not again. Please.
The roar of the crowd climbs. Waves bash against cliffsides. The noise is the approach of Death. Each voice is a step in the fall of marching nightmares.
They’re dragging him back out to fight.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Stapped to a metal table. Trapped.
Shadowy figures above, a cruel gleam in their singular eye. Burning cuts he can’t flinch from, and red, red, red, blood.
His blood.
Events happen without pause.
The sound of mechanics moving, rolling, and clicking as the far wall of Izuku’s crate opens.
Floodlights blind him and he raises an arm up as the arena comes into focus. It’s like he never left. Nothing changed. The crowd is loud and thunderous at his arrival. Eager for the next fight to the death.
Once again, he’s pushed out into the arena, the red sand is warm under his bare feet.
The Announcers voice above only signals the appearance of his opponent. Dark green and brown. A large being with a kangaroo's hind legs. Two short and thin arms are curled up to their chest. Two black claws on each. Plated rock-like armor covers their back. A long beak snaps open and closed with a loud click. It reminds him of two hollow wooden pipes banging against each other. The sound is clear and dull. A round head turns and six pitch-black eyes stare at him.
Izuku swallows, feeling light, legs like jelly. He swears he can feel warm blood already staining his hands.
The spectators scream and roar with elation.
Izuku steps back.
The creature—
—and is he sure it’s non-sentient? He’s growled and acted on instinct, maybe they’re just doing the same? How can he know? Maybe they’re…all…like… h i m—
— lunges toward him. The creature’s face doesn't make sense, emotions are lost to him.
His legs lock into place.
Bu-dump.
He doesn’t move.
Bu-dump.
Arms spread.
Bu-dump.
Green eye’s shut.
Bu-dump.
The heavy thump of the creature’s approach matches the metronome of a ticking clock.
Bu-dum—
A sharp beep from his collar— The sharp injection of cold fluid fills his neck.
This time, as he falls under, Izuku smiles.
Freedom
???
---
Things change.
Izuku’s first gasp of full awareness has him slamming back into the present.
He’s strapped down on his back, and the vulnerable position has him tensing and trying to twist onto his side. Move, move, move!
Metal bends and snaps.
He freezes, and wide green eyes lock onto his wrist as he pulls it away. A red line runs around the limb. H-how..?
An alarm shrieks.
Red lights flash.
Click-!
The F’shhhh sound of cut of air—
The same arm raised to his face, now has a small dart sticking out of it.
Izuku jerks and throws himself off the metal table. Things are pulled with him. Wires stick to his body, arms, legs torso. Some are yanked right out of his skin . The alarm cuts out but the room still flashes bright red. Red like the blood that streams and spurts from the holes in his flesh.
He shutters, scrambling back until his back hits a wall. Izuku pulls the dart out and grips at his arm before it can bleed. His lungs feel strained and weak, expanding and squeezing at a shallow, quick pace.
He looks up from his place on the floor.
The room is empty. But it’s more like a large glass room. A large…robotic set of…six arms takes up the back of the room. The limbs are raised above the metal table he had been strapped to.
A large, curved window takes up the front of the room.
There’s movement on the other side.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Fear tastes like bitter ash on his tongue.
Izuku’s heart doesn’t calm. His breathing stays tight.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Click-!
The F’shhhh sound of cut of air—
Izuku leaps to the side, landing on his side before looking over to the other side of the room—
Where a gun hangs from the ceiling, the muzzle turning and locking onto him—
End echo of his mother’s voice.
“Everything will be okay, you’ll be okay.”
Something ignites within his chest. Adrenalin already rushing through his heart and filling his veins. Fear feels heavy , and it hardens as a spark takes its place. A light of defiance fills bright green eyes.
“I love you.”
The metal table goes flying— crashing right into the gun and smashing it into pieces. Parts fall to the floor, accompanying the heavy clang of the table.
Three Aliens watch from behind Translucent R’tor’on 5-Q Crystal. The large curved window gives them a complete view of the Operating room.
The scream of the alarm and frantic words exchanged does little in warning the Terranian’s destructive escape. Not when burning green eyes meet there's, an edge to them, something that sends their prey minds screaming: Danger!
They scramble. Hands reach for the controls, the gun—
SMASH .
—is in pieces as the Operating table is kicked into it.
“[—It can’t get out. It’s trapped in the Operating room with a heavy dose of Bul’do’x Venom in its Circulatory System —]”
—Words are meaningless as it turns back to the viewing window. The thing is small, not surprising, most other beings are shorter than the naturally tall Alatheina’s 243cm height. Its size doesn’t take away from its presence .
No, as the Deathworlder turns to them and bares its teeth , the Poachers are locked n place. Body’s frozen as ice-cold fear holds them in place.
The oldest Alatheian’s voice comes out stuttered, clicks struggling to hold patterns, “[...I-it can’t get o-out—]”
The muzzle of the Tranquilizer Gun pierces through the window.
The pressure in the room wavers and a whine comes from the gravitational regulators as the room works to stabilize with the crack between the two rooms.
The trickle of broken crystal sounds like a violent song as small cracks form around the stuck muzzle. The high-grade 5-Q crystal window shatters. Pieces shower the floor like the mockery of a waterfall.
The horrific beauty spurs the room back into action.
Everything falls out of place. The siren background noise to the screams and shrieks of his abductors. Izuku jumps— light, he’s so light, gravity barely has a hold on him — and red-shoes land in a room full of screeching, fleeing Aliens—Running out the tall metal back door.
His pulse is a welcome thrum that fuels his next move.
Izuku lifts the piece of the metal table, a leg, and runs forward as the last of his abductors slips out.
Right at the metal wall slide down— he jams the leg underneath. A loud Clang and tin cry make his ears ring.
He grits his teeth, the red lights flashing still before he braces himself and pushes the leg forward at a downward angle.
It’s easy.
The metal door crinkles like paper and slides up the metal leg.
Izuku pushes it into an arch, giving him enough room to get through. The smile on his face softens. Out, I’m out. I can get away! Freedom is so close, a chance of getting back home.
One of the Aliens stands alone in the hallway, blocking any further escape as they hold…some sort of…gun(?).
Izuku crouches lower, smaller, smaller target.
The weapon is yellow, almost toy-like in its round and bubbly design. The Hallway is still tinted in flashes of bright red, the Alien’s red markings go away with each flash, but stand out like Floecent Reflective Tape in the darkness. The siren still screaming.
“--- —-- –!” Clicks and other strange noises are shouted like a threat. The Alien steps back on pointed, hoofed feet (Shoes?).
Green eyes narrow.
The muzzle of their gun sparks like a firecracker—
Izuku lunges to the side— Something hot hit’s his leg.
He falls and rolls into the metal wall. The hard surface gives and he winces from the impact. A hiss slips from his teeth.
But…
He looks down at his legs and…it’s fine. The injury is only a small red burn. It stings but… I’m not bleeding .
When he looks back over at the Alien, the creature is shaking . Their one large yellow eye is locked onto his leg. The orange pupil constricts. “-----! —- — —-----!”
A bubble of hysteria, the strange consolation that their guns can’t really hurt him . Has Izuku talking back, voice trembling as light laugher tumbles out, “I- I don’t get it e-either…hah.”
The Alien clicks again— and tosses the gun to the floor. One of their limbs reaches—oh! The brown! They’re wearing coats!— into a pocket and—
Izuku gets up. Eyes zero in on the shine of metal in the other’s hand.
A syringe.
The hairs on his arms rise.
The Alien in front of him bends and Izuku can see the change, the coil before a charge—
They run at each other.
The Alien screeching like a warrior's last stand—
—Izuku leaps over them and continues down the hallway with a laugh.
Present Day
July 25th 22xx
---
Wet fangs click and a harsh hiss fills the dark room, “[What happened?]” To answer would be stating the obvious. Something that would draw their leader’s ire. The continued clicks brought relief to the Aliens in the room, “[Throwing a fit. Stubborn thing.]” Another burning hiss, “[Refusing to do a simple job. Fine. ]”
One of his eight legs lifted, waving in a shooing motion, “[Send it back out.]”
One of the kneeling figures, a high-ranking guard, spoke, his voice wavering, “[But if it refuses to fight—]”
“[—You think me to be unwise? ]”
The guard shrunk, large iridescent eyes nearly bulging from their small head, “[N-no, Sir. I…I’m merely…too stupid to understand and—]”
“[—I don’t need you to understand .]”
The flutter of bug wings fills the room, the tension heavy enough to crush. The guard bows even further, pressing against the stone floor. “[Yes, Sir.]”
“[Go.]”
The room cleared and the boss turns back to his viewing window. Back to the empty arena and restless crowds. Eyes narrow into slits. Deathworlders are survival creatures, and if it lives up to it’s names? It will fight back.
Far From Home...
???
---
The alarm shuts off.
Feet entangle and Izuku catches himself before he can fall, hands braced against the left metal wall.
It’s quiet. Red still colors the hallways.
Large windows take up the far wall, following along as the hallway curves to the left.
He stands in place as large green eyes take in the view on the other side.
Izuku’s own mind is quiet as he takes a small step forward.
Before he knows it, small pale hands press up against the cold glass(?).
A sea of stars cloud the infinity in front of him. Their twinkle, not unlike his own sun— Izuku pulls back. Both curious wonder and never-ending despair swirl like a storm in his mind. A crushing weight settles over his shoulders.
Home.
So far from home.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Hands turn to fists, and green eyes narrow as a new light ignites. Escape pods. The idea is almost silly, but, he’s already been abducted by aliens. Who can say escape pods don’t exist as well?
That doesn’t mean you’ll be able to fly it.
Izuku shakes his head. No. He can’t give up.
The boy turns left and continues down the empty hallway.
???
---
Bubbles.
Muffle movement.
Floating.
…
Green eyes …fly open.
Cell. This isn’t his cell.
My cell? The thought has him cringing.
Izuku pushes himself up and takes a seat in the crate they use to transport him. The darkness has him scooting back till he meets the wall behind him. He looks up to the small gaps near the ‘ceiling’.
One hand rises and taps against his collar. The muzzle is back to being closed. Questions dance at the tip of his tongue. Whys and confusion drift.
He…they took him out of the fight.
His knees pull up and he presses his head against them.
They can’t…they aren’t…
Izuku shakes his head, green curls bounce lightly.
Frustration wells in Izuku's chest, thick in his throat. His eyes sting with tears of rage and his voice comes out choked, “I can’t. Not again. Not anymore.”
As if to prove how little control Izuku has over his own life, his crate beings to move. Soon the crowd above can be heard through the ceiling and walls. Surrounding him. Trapped in this place, Izuku isn’t going to get what he wants.
No way out.
No way out.
Izuku has run through empty hallways, looping back around, a maze.
Air is thin. Every breath grows shorter. The feel of each inhale scratching against his dry throat has him wishing for a glass of cold water.
Izuku stops beside a large window. Gasping for air. …Not right…something isn’t—
A dead end.
The boy’s head snaps up, and bright green eyes land on a security camera near the ceiling. It follows his movement with a quiet whirr . Watching him.
A door to his right slides open with a hiss of air. It’s dark. All the lights inside are off. The red flashing from the now silent alarm barely reaches inside. He can’t make anything out.
A shuffle is behind him. Movement—
The boy throws himself against the end of the hall. Slamming into the metal wall—
Thudthudthud — a trail of three darts stab right where he had been standing before the open door.
Three of his abductors stand before him. One holding a gun— dart gun.
Izuku crouches low, back pressed against the wall behind him. The metal leg in his hand is heavy.
Bright green eyes lock onto the gun—
The muscles in his arms tense—
Izuku swings —
CLANG!
Warped screaming—
The Aliens scatter and scramble back—
The gun bends before it flies out of the Alien’s hands— Smashing into pieces and leaving an indent in the side of the hallway.
Clicks and words are being shouted.
Izuku grins and—
The smell of ozone and the stutter of electricity fills the room. Brightening the hallways up with bright, blinding flickers of light. Lighting arches from the thing. Dangerous.
The blood drains from Izuku’s freckled face. His mouth goes dry as the hair on his arms stands on end.
And he remembers this pain.
Fighting through waves of unconsciousness.
Seizing pain as muscles spasm and tighten.
Izuku runs it into the open door, leaping over the darts embedded into the floor. Heart hammering away.
He spins back around as the crackle of energy follows.
Palms rise, open as words fall out, “S-stop!” knots tighten around his lungs. “I j-just want to go home!” Begging falls on deaf ears, “W-we don’t have to fight! Please!”
.
He doesn’t fight.
The boy's body rolls and scapes against red dirt. The creature— the same one he had refused to fight before— roars. The sound is like the clash of thunder and for a moment it drowns out the crowd. But like violent waves against stone cliffs, the audience’s cheers follow like stormy weather.
Blood drips down Izuku’s nose, over and into his mouth as glaze eyes squint. The world is a blur. Agony fresh, new bruises blossom. Copper fills his mouth. Pennies left to pay for his own weakness.
I can’t even save myself.
The creature approaches. Its hopping steps create tremors. The dry dirt under its strange rabbit-like feet, cracks .
When Izuku closes his eyes, hot tears stream down. Breaking free and wrenching a sob from his soar throat. With his face pressed against warm sand, Izuku cries.
A shadow falls over his downed form.
Small hands turn to fists.
The creature above him snorts, sending dust up like mini clouds.
A hush falls over the Colosseum.
“I love you.”
The sound of heavy rain rattles against his skull.
Looking up at the stars, alone.
Green eyes open.
Izuku wants to live.
Cold metal presses against his back and hinges squeak.
Izuku tenses and glances back— His cage stands right behind him. The door is partway open.
Aches and blood. Cuts and injections.
Pain and torture.
Manic glee fills the Alien’s large yellow eye.
The electric rod sparks.
No.
Izuku's cold fear…turns into hot rage.
When Izuku looks back at the Aliens, his eyes burn an acidic green. The pupils are small and bleed something feral . Defiant .
.
Hands cut through the creature's stomach like it’s butter. Yanking and pulling as organs spill.
Liquid— blood, stomach acid, piss— splashes against his legs.
A loud horrid screeching rakes against his eardrums. Before it turns to choked burbles.
A clawed— hand? Paw? — limb is digging into his shoulder. But that oo falls limp. Is he bleeding? He can’t tell.
The creature's body sags before it falls. The weight should be crushing, but it’s not, like holding up a heavy mattress Izuku shifts and tosses it over to the side.
Wet.
Izuku looks down.
A ringing blasts through his head.
His entire front is covered in purple. It… looks like paint. Wet. But the smell isn’t right. The feeling isn’t right.
He looks down and—
He can’t breathe.
The ringing cuts out to the howl of the watching audience.
Izuku looks up to the spectators. Bright lights hide nothing. A new vibrant, piercing look on his face. He’s breathing heavily. Red blood still drips down his chin. Green eyes are blown wide, almost unseeing.
He’s soaked almost completely in striking purple.
From one cage, into another. Nothing changed, just more of the same.
The next round begins.
Notes:
Took a while, but I finally finished this chapter! I've already planned out up to chapter 5 so I'm hype for writing more!
I'll probably add more art to this chapter, but i really wanted to update first ^^
Now that we got Izuku's day's of first being abducted outta the way, we can finally move onto the rest of the story~ excited!
Chapter 4: (First) Impression(s) part 1
Summary:
The retrieval team finally make some progress. Izuku's adapting and trying his best.
Notes:
Would've had this chapter out at the beginning of the month. But! Art block is killing me and so I'm just adding art later instead as I hate making ppl wait. Actually have the next parts almost done too, so you guys shouldn't have to wait long lol
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter Four - (First) Impression(s) part 1
Warm wet tears and snot dribble down his face in ugly steams. His lungs shutter, clenching and unclenching with each heavy gasp of air. The wail that’s pulled from his soar throat drowns out his surroundings.
This isn’t the first time Izuku’s cried here…Isn’t the first time he’s felt such emotional pain since being abducted. The motions are the same. The sounds he makes are the same. But this time it’s different.
No, this time he cries because he’s crossed a horrifically, crudely drawn line. Today, he cries for what he’s become. All for a means of survival. Selfish. Evil, Monster.
…And yet he can’t take it back. If he gives up now, then he will die here. Alone. No one would ever know what had happened to him, lost to space under the cruel watchful gaze of his captors.
He can’t give up, because then he’ll never know—
His mom’s blinding smile.
A wet sob tumbles from his wilted body. Izuku lies in his bed of leaves, broken. Today, he will cry. Tomorrow he will fight to survive.
Burpees, Jump Squats, Split lunge jumps, Push-ups, Jumping Jacks, Mountain Climbers, Plank up-downs, Bicycle Crunches. Anything to get his heart pumping.
Sweat coats his body as muscles ache. He knows they’re watching him. The camera follows him and curious guards walk by and watch him. But he ignores them all.
Izuku starts off small. Light. Yoga became a way to wind up and wind down. With nothing else to do but eat, sleep, and fight. The boy pushes himself.
If he’s going to survive. He needs to get stronger, faster.
After spending the last fifteen minutes running in place, the boy lies against the concrete floor. The cold floor sucks up his body heat while he gasps for air. Izuku’s pulse thrums, alive and deafening.
Time passes, and a pattern grows; Fight, Rest, and Exercise. Then repeat.
Izuku knows they’re watching him, his captors. And with the observations, his food changes. More meat, more water, and strange smoothies. The things still come in that clear rectangle container, but the sludge goes down easily.
His fights change with him.
Make it hesitate.
The Alien Animal faces him without fear. Paws thump and red dust is kicked up. Drool drips down the creature's flat face.
Noise spilled from his mouth. Guttural snarls and growls. Green eyes study the other’s actions, waiting for a response. Recognition of his warnings. Register his threat.
When the animal merely steps forward, Izuku switches to the next call. Sounds, like the cry of an angry wild cat, scratching at his throat. The sound is harsh and sharp, with noise in place of claws lashing out.
The spectators watching above, cheer at his feral behavior, but his toxic green eyes stay locked on his opponent.
The Alien’s four ears pull back and its hulking body crouches low. Furry chest brushes against red sand.
Izuku copies the movement. Mimic. A way to adapt. Lure or warn, a threat depending on how each sound and movement is used. And Izuku is using them. His knees bend before he brings calloused hands to his mouth and a sharp hollow bark resounds from chapped lips.
The Alien creature jumps back—
Sweet victory brushes against his mind. A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. This is his third fight. Another day in an endless calendar, but he’ll survive.
Blue lips pull up and yellow fangs gleam in a threatening display. Similar to a dog, a black tongue lashes out, nervous.
Keeping his hands to his mouth Izuku settles on a deep growl, the sound clear with the placement of his hands.
But noise isn’t everything. It’s body language that helps sell the act.
Izuku crouches low, a spring ready to be sprung. Green eyes stare right at the other, locked on, piercing. Unable to reveal his teeth, he chooses to stomp his feet and move from left to right. The movement of a snake's head before it aliens to strike. Each action is learned with purpose.
A hiss, like water meeting hot metal, is his only warning—
The boy dodges to the left, and bare feet slide on soft dirt—
The audience is screaming, a roar of hungry voices—
And the creature twists to follow.
Fear will make it weary. Unsure. Use it. Izuku doesn’t lash out, he steps back and lets out another bark followed by a thundering growl.
The creator jerks back and three red pupils in two white eyes look him up and down. Another hiss pulls at their lips.
Make it quick.
Dropping his hands. The muzzle on his face is open and he flashes his teeth. The creature tenses—
And Izuku kicks off the ground, flying forward—
The flat-face animal’s mouth opens—
An opening—!
A fist shoots out—
A sickening, wet sound accompanied by a snap.
Something soars and a heavy thud causes the ground to tremble.
A much smaller thunk— is followed by the holler of the crowd.
Izuku stands still, breath coming out and pressing against his soar throat. He swallows, but the ache in his chest only gets heavier.
A hot, wet, liquid spills, and his feet are stained.
He doesn’t look. Can’t look.
Beep!
[59 Days] Since leaving Risnlatra
August 17th 22xx - August 19th 22xx
---
Salty rain pours down and soaks the concrete city. It wears down buildings, is harsh, and rounds sharp corners like sea glass. The air reminds A’zawa of deep caves, the substance hard to find on Risnlatra without mining and harvesting salt crystals.
The downpour is warm, almost pleasant if it didn’t mean he’d have to shower once the I-line Thera got back to the ship. His ragged costume barely shields him, a simple vest for minimal protection, and a tight harness covers the rest of his back.
Twin white tails tighten around his neck, sopping wet. He twitches his nose in displeasure. The eyepatch on his left top eye does little in actually blocking his vision, merely for show; Helping him with his new criminal persona.
Eraserhead. A smuggler to a ragtag group of criminals out to sell and deal illegal contraband thanks to their connections with a grey-minded individual willing to work with both sides of the law. They don’t have a name or a face. Just pretty words and a promise to cut losses if their team messes things up. Keep things simple: deliver these packages and they’ll be able to make their way further into the darkest reaches of space.
That and seeking other means to make money. Simple bodyguard duties, and bounty work. A respectable job to any thugs looking to make a quick buck from whoever wants a ‘job’ done. A way for rival gangs to get rid of any competition, and something the ISC is willing to turn an eye to for this retrieval mission. All for this team to sink their way into places closed to the public, and hidden from the eye of any legal authorities…anything information of the fighting Arenas.
“Here.” H’za’shii’s clear whistle, free from the translator, draws the feline's attention to a space between two worn-down buildings. The night cycle doesn’t help and so the two Heroes are felt to peer into the darkness. The lights from the overarching street lamps don’t reach.
A’zawa sighs deeply and pulls the metal box in his paws close to his gray vest. Together, they slip through the very narrow alleyway, H’zawa right behind. The walls are damp and would scrap against his skin if he didn’t have such thick fur.
The metal box in his paws barely fits through the confined space.
The two make it to the end and pop free into an open space in the center of four buildings and footsteps splash into a shallow puddle.
The I-line Thera bites back a yowl, bringing and stepping further into the boxed space.
A single metal door is bathed in a sea-green light. The buzz of electricity is heard even as rain beads down on metal rooftops.
A black, spray painted(?) symbol next to the door, is the only thing that tells them they’ve reached their next unloading spot. It’s a crude three-lined X, two lines crossing one, in the middle of two circles.
A’zawa shifts the box in his arms, wishing he too had feathers. The oil causes rain to bounce off; Waterproof.
.
The door slides open with a mechanical whoosh and both of them tense. Alert.
A short, blue, reptilian Alien with a large underbite, steps into the entryway. The light above causes the Alien’s three eye’s Tapetum Lucidum to shine eerily. A’zawa’s sure his own eyes are doing the same.
The blue Alien narrows its three eyes at A’zawa, the clear double eyelid blinking a few times before they glance over to the right.
The two heroes stiffen…and a large shadow moves away from the darkness. A rocky being stomps close, stopping about five feet away. A warning.
A’zawa rolls his eyes, “[We’re just smugglers.]”
When the reptilian alien speaks, their voice comes out electronic, some sort of translator implant, “[I know your kind. ]” A click and shutter, “[Can’t trick me just cause you ain’t a Pirate outright.]” Their reflective glare moves over to H’za’shii— Who stiffens but otherwise doesn’t react.
“[I’ll speak with the Volicor ].”
A’zawa is quick to respond before his teammate can say anything, “[That’s fine]” Yellow eye gleam in the low lighting, “[But I’m staying close by].”
They stare at each other. A’zawa looks down while their customer has to look up to meet his steady gaze.
Then the blue reptilian Alien waves a three-clawed hand, “[Fine].”
The ‘guard’ backs off, taking a seat against the right wall.
“[Do what you want, Un’ted’ark ].”
A whistle is accompanied by H’za’shii’s flaring yellow feathers. The sound is so high-pitch that he’s sure the other two don’t even hear it, but it sends A’zawa’s ear ringing.
A’zawa merely bows his head and keeps quiet, mouth suddenly dry.
It’s fine.
It’s part of the mission. Undercover as a smuggler. He should be used to it. Yet the translator's struggle to translate the use of slang doesn’t stop A’zawa from understanding the word: Tainted Race.
The I-line Thera turns, handing the metal box over to H’za’shii. Long claws tap against the hard surface as he avoids the other’s sideways glance.
We can talk after things are done — A’zawa winces at the thought— or not at all.
The job is quick: Hand over the box and let the reptilian Alien open and inspect everything. The short Aliens hums, the tone light and eyes only on Hi’za’shii, completely ignoring A’zawa’s presence, “[Pleasure doing business with ya].”
The vocal Alien bobs his head, only his flaring yellow feathers belay any annoyance, “Of course! You know who to contact if you want to complete further business! Have a wonderful Ab’l’snt!” The words come out scripted, said after each complete delivery.
The customer grunts, amused, “[Right].”
The two smugglers nod and quickly make their way back to the main street. The weight had settled over the two lifts and H’za’shii is already clicking his beak, “I should’ve blasted his auditory sensors—!”
“And I’m glad you didn’t.” Tried eyes drag their way over to meet their H’za’shii’s green-yellow ones. “We still need to scope out the rest of the city.” A’zawa turns away and his pace picks up as they move down the bare sidewalk.
He hears the other whistle again, feathers shaking, “Sho’a—”
“—Present Mic.”
The conversation ends…and the night drags on.
Cylindrical buildings climb up, reaching the stormy clouds above. A low rumble has the thick fur that runs down his spine standing on end. But rain doesn’t fall, and lighting is such a common occurrence here that the threat or any harm is practically nonexistent. This isn’t a Deathworld, the weather balances between rain and sunshine, nothing more.
It’s been two Zins [1 Day] since the drop-off point. Today, A’zawa winds through slim alleyways, and the bottoms of his paws are wet from damp concrete.
Taking a hard left, he pauses for a moment. A large metal door takes up the wall of a dead end. A symbol— a Square tilted, off balance, and cut into four parts. The line in the middle is in a long ‘Z’ shape— is painted in green on the door's middle. A small rectangle peephole rest above the sign.
.
A’zawa takes in a slow breath, one paw raises as he pets one of his white tails. The appendage flickers from around his neck.
His (fake) ID is in his other paw and he takes a step forward.
The small peephole slides open as he approaches.
The I-line Thera holds up his ID— signaling his connection as a smuggler— and the door swings open.
“[Welcome.]”
The I-line Thera flickers his ears in acknowledgment, twin tails swaying from around his neck.
Stepping into the dark room, four eyes take in the establishment.
A large circular bar station takes up the middle of the large room; A beacon beckoning patrons with sickly drinks.
Luminescent blue lights run along the floor, embroidering various tables and booths. The lights intersect with the bar starion and rest under the bar’s counter. They reflect off of rustic oranges and reds of the walls and flooring.
Simple stools with simple height adjustments line the front of the bar. They’re metal with blue cushions.
The back of the bar is filled to the brim with various drinks, saps, gums, and dried Ah’pelO Bark.
.
A’zawa’s bristled tongue laps the side of his muzzle, the temptation tickles his tired mind. The bark would wake him up, but isn’t the same as an Ah’pel’O Pod…
He swallows back the temptation and by the time he reaches the curved counter, he only asks for a light Starshine.
The bartender moves with swift ease between grabbing filling and washing glasses, tentacles taking turns being dunked in their tank. The circular pattern that flexes over their skin is hypnotic and A’zawa keeps his eyes unfocused as he looked over the W’urb’k.
.
The W’urb’k is staring back, their purple triangle pupil turning clockwise, “[That all?]” Their words come out rough and heavy, fitting with the Sapient's constant baring of teeth.
A’zawa turns away, uneasy as his mind tells him the other’s giving a threatening display. They’re not, the W’urb’k eats coral, plant matter…and even if that wasn’t the case they’re low on the LOA— Level of Aggression—measurement charts.
Keep it casual.
The I-line Thera shrugs, his criminal persona worn like a second skin, “[Not feeling up to anything strong, gonna be heading out after tonight.]”
The W’urb’k huffs, bumpy skin flashes yellow before settling back to a bright pink-purple, “[Right,]”
One tentacle holds a glass in front of a large tank, pulling a small yellow lever a thick syrup spills out. “[could you tell the old man We’re still waiting for the next delivery?]”
The glass is quickly filled with a light blue sap and placed on the counter. “[Likes to take his sweet time].”
A’zawa swipes his drink, “[I’m sure it’ll arrive by the time we're off planet].”
He turns, long body moving gracefully behind him, “[We aren’t his only crew].”
“[Great].” The word is said with plain annoyance, impatient. Blunt teeth clatter and A’zawa cringes.
The ‘Smuggler’ moves to a booth near one of the far corners, an air of disinterest belies the way he scans the bar’s other guests. The table is warped, one side is curved inward while the other is curved outward.
A’zawa takes a seat on one of the lumpy grey chairs. The foam activates and forms a low platform for his lower body to rest on.
He leans and rests his arms on the table. Taking in the sleek black surface, he sees his own reflection. His glass of Starshine is set down with a dull ‘Tink’.
.
His booth is three tables away from a large group of extraterrestrials. His sharp ears flicker as he listens in.
“[That old bone’s new smuggling crew is around.]”
A’zawa brings out a tablet and a list of shipping locations pops up. Claws tap on the screen and he feigns interest, the dim green glow scarcely illuminates his furry face.
He takes a steady gulp of the Starshine, the thick sap coats his maw with a warm static feeling.
“[Ya gonna ask 'em about the bounty?]”
“[Nah, head it’s better if ya let the Ruu’Za’Kii’s new Pet take ‘im out.]”
The Ruu’Za’Kii? Death Strom…? What a lame name…but…
Dark claws swipe as he absentmindedly opens a series of receipts.
…Pet?
The sound of glass tapping against a metal surface, “[That Dead Worlds Fighting ring has grown a pretty reputation.]”
Skin stretches and bodies shift, “[Not just that, they pay ya upfront before the fight, and then you’ll get the bounties head after. Just bring that to a collections station and you’ll make double.]”
Loud harsh laughing has him tensing, “[Entertainment and getting paid…?]”
It doesn’t hurt to look up and over like an irritated Parton. Yellow eyes flicker up and take note of the group of four. Each decked out in thick, dark clothing. A shine of metal points to a few prosthetic limbs.
Space Pirates.
“[Sure they ain’t jus’ taking the bounty for themselves?]” The Vu’roat scoffs, glowing blue eyes narrow as their yellow, round, spiked body leans over the table.
.
A large, metal hand, tipped with claws bangs against the table, “[The Ruu’Za’Kii are different. I’d already turned in a bounty of mine, that pink-eyed W’ar’durlin Thief. ]”
.
The Blu’riit grins, “[Didn’t stand a chance in the ring against that Deathworlder!]”
A’zawa looks away, taking another gulp, and already half of his drink is gone. The sap settles in his stomach like a dense stone.
So, the creature’s being used to kill.
That…shouldn’t surprise him. With the way it had killed the Poachers, he already knew what it was capable of doing. It’s long since shown it's got a taste of blood and killing sentient beings is a line it’s not afraid to cross.
“[Hm, then only a matter of time before the place becomes a hot zone…]” One of the fully cloaked Aliens snarks. Hidden and unable to be identified the tall figure laughs.
The Blu’ritt joins in, “[Believe me,]” A bark of laughter, “[Everyone’s been talk’n bout it. Wouldn’t be surprised if any Hero Ships start showing up with all the noise.]”
The bearded Pirate throws back another mug before slamming it down on the counter, “[Though, with the Ruu’Za’Kii’s growing power, s’not like the ISC could do anything…]”
A’zawa leaves a full R’uud’n [1 hour] after the group leaves. Scrolling through future deliveries and communicating with his crewmates on their intel gathering. 10-C-A stays on the ship, but H’za’shii and Neh’muur’ii have both gotten word of the fighting ring. Its exact location hasn’t been disclosed, but a few confrontations have pointed to a wormhole found in the Naxis-13-8539 Galaxy.
Paws pad along metal rooftops, the rain is long gone, but the city is still damp and puddles reflect city lights. The smell of wet concrete settles against his senses.
Soft round ears stand erect before swerving this way and that. Searching. Hunting.
“[...Here!]”
The I-line Thera is off like a rocket. Leaping from roof to roof, over and under electric wires and heaters. Sharp claws retract as paw pads soften his fast approach.
He stops just before the edge of a building, crouching down and peering over the side. Huffing, yellow eyes narrow.
It’s the Vu’roat and Blu’riit from the bar.
The Vu’roat’s legless slug-like body shuffles along the alleyways and out onto an empty street. A trail of slime dissipates behind him.
The pirate's black oversized hand raises, fixing their wide hat, “[Those guys always dragging up out…]”
“[If they didn’t you would be stuck babysitting the rest of the crew.]” The Vu’roat’s long yellow spikes shutter as the duo takes a left.
The Blu’ritt cackles, “[Just give me a lift to the place, I know you can’t wait ta get there!]”
A’zawa follows after, bounding from roof to roof. He follows them as they continue to talk. Their voices drift easily to him as they continue down desolate sidewalks and streets.
The I-line Thera has to hold back a surprised trill. His pupils expand as the duo stops…and slip into a tight alleyway.
A’zawa steps back, crouching— and jumps over the edge.
Landing on the street he runs across. Muscles tense a second before he springs and vaults himself up the front of a building. The motion barely makes a sound, his black fur easily blends in with the night.
On top of the roof, he sees the back of the two buildings that make up the alleyway. Whiskers twitch as he stalks forward. A paw reaches into his coat, grasping the small metal Tracker.
As he leans over the edge to the space down below…he can’t help but give a Cheshire grin, teeth gleaming. A predator on the hunt.
The two pirates begin to board a small ship, the ugly thing halfway under a raggedy green tarp. The noise rises and voices clash in greeting and cheers.
Retrieval Team
September 5th 22xx
---
“Wormhole located in the second quadrant of the Naxis-13-8539 Galaxy. Color and size point to a short trip!” Yellow feathers rise and spread with Hi’za’shii’s clear voice. The Voloicor taps at a blue Holoscreen and a map of their current location zooms out. A green box flashes over to a spiraling symbol. “Unknown where we’ll end up, Captain. T-minus fifteen minutes!”
10-C-A beeps, head swerving from his place front and center of the bridge as various controls light up, “[Neh’muur’ii?]”
The Poiis’spite’s antennas twitch, “[Communications still clear, previous documents already sent and the ISC are awaiting for further information.]”
“[A’zawa?]”
Ears flickers and tried eyes move over to the “[Shouldn’t you be using our Aliases?]” He shakes his head, “[Plans set to change once we view the fighting ring’s location, shield, cloaking, and weaponry all in working order…The Tracker’s still working.]”
The Z’thero, Hero Robot, lights up in a light blue, and a few beeps sing, “[Just for the moment, once we travel through that Wormhole I will switch to our aliases.]” 10-C-A refocuses on his own station, “[Everything is in working order.]”
The timer counts down, and each crew member buckles in as the tension slowly rises. Sooner, almost too soon, they see the warp in space. Stars twist around the void. Light burst from around the ring's edges, leaving the center a twist of colors. The ship hums as shields turn up and thrusters slow to a crawl.
Hi’za’shii calls out, “HAAAAAANG TIGHT!!!!”
In a flash of bright light, their ship shoots through the wormhole.
Sound ceases to exist. Feeling gone. Bright colors surround their very being.
And then they're out.
A ringing deafens them. Seat belts strap them tight to their seats as reality falls back onto them.
Stomachs churn like motion sickness, but this isn’t new. They aren’t new recruits anymore. The crew waits out the feelings of being slammed back into the present. The now.
Looking out the front window, their ship sits in space. Ahead of them, an asteroid belt drifts by, and at its center, a—
“[Planet - Drakis-10-20847: A dead planet located in the 3rd quadrant of the St’lin’or Galaxy. The Underground Arena can be found here. A popular place for criminal activity.]” 10-C-A’s voice reads off their updated map.
The Planet is pretty small, a pebble to Risnlatra. Most of its exterior is dark, with clouds covering, hiding, its surface. Specks of red and purple peek through grey clouds. Lights speckle the surface, an activity that hopefully points to the… Colosseum.
“[A place previously hidden from the ISC…]”
Neh’muur’ii opens another Holoscreen, “[The tracker points to the dead world, it’s stopped moving.]”
10-C-A beeps, “[Midnight, Eraserhead, the plan is still in motion.]”
Both crew members turn to look at their captain.
“[After scoping out the area, and acting as if we’ve had a falling out, Eraserhead and Midnight will be left behind. Try to get hired in or around the Colosseum.]”
10-C-A chimes, turning to Hi’za’shii, “[Present Mic and I, Ingenium, will be stationed close by on a neighboring asteroid. We will stay in contact for further planning.]”
This is it then.
Both of them respond, “[Yes, Captain!]”
Large hands grab his legs and he’s thrown into the side of the arena’s peach stone walls. Falling and hitting red sand Izuku coughs. Spit drips down his face. It doesn't hurt, but his lungs shutter as the air is forced from them.
Thud—
The boy rolls forward as two fists smash into the ground.
Up on unsteady legs, he faces the giant Alien. Humanoid in shape, sharp, bone-like protrusions run down their arms and legs. Sickly green skin, coated in grey-brown warts stretches over a muscular frame.
A collar wraps tight around their neck.
Izuku swallows, sentient then.
He takes a deep breath, mind already pulling back. Quick, I just have to—
A large hand lashes out and his bare feet leave the ground. Izuku yells out, heart leaping into his throat as he squirms in the other’s grip. “L-let go-!”
He’s squeezed.
Izuku’s gut clenches painfully— His lunch lurches up and out of his mouth, his nose burns, and tears spring up into green eyes.
He nearly choaks— but finds himself falling and hitting the sand. It crunches under his weight and he tumbles before laying flat on his stomach.
A deep, thunderous, roar drowns out the rest of the Colosseum.
Izuku cringed and throws his hands over his head, looking up— viridian eyes widen, “W-wha..?”
The Alien flails and continues to yell.
Clawed feet stomp and Izuku tries to grip the floor, fingers digging into the red soil.
They fall back to the ground beneath them cracks.
The right side of their face sizzles as the flesh blossoms with purples and melts.
Izuku pales his now empty stomach churns.
Oh, that’s…that’s… Words fail him as he’s stuck between a morbid interest and nauseating dread as the giant Aliens stills.
He blinks words coming out broken, a whisper, “I- I’m sorry!”
Her Boss's body shutters and clicking laughter fills the dark room.
R’za stays in place, listening.
“[Seems its killer instincts finally kicked it. The will to live is a volatile desire. Even a cornered M’wz will lash out if it cannot run.]” Fangs drip and mandibles click, several black eyes land on R’za, and the fish-Aliens colors shimmer. “[You will tame this Beast.]”
He watches for her expression to fall, but he stays standing and the hair on his legs rises, “[Do not fail me, do not fail my new Pet. ]”
[Yes, Sir.]”
“[Also,]” A leg lifts and begins to tap the surface of the desk. “It’s about time to introduce the thing to the Wilds.]”
R’za bows further, “[Yes, Sir.]”
The overhead lights turn on as the night cycle turns to day. Izuku only burrows himself deeper under the pile of soft leaves, his own body heat warms his ‘bed’.
Tap, tap, tap.
Something knocks against the window to his cell. The sound draws a groan of annoyance from the boy. Heavy-lidded eyes only shut tighter as he tightens up and in a move to show his annoyance, simply rolls over, facing the back wall.
Tap, tap, tap.
His groan turns into a growl, eyes opening and staring at nothing. Sleep clings to him like a baby koala, begging for just a few more minutes of shut-eye. He’s already fought, today should be a break day…
BEEP!
Green eyes widen and pupil shrink—
Sharp, crackling, electricity has his muscle seizing. The cry from his lips, cuts out, turning wet.
Then it stops.
Izuku’s body falls like a marionette, gasping as a sheen of sweat begins to coat his body. His limbs twitch as he grits his teeth and forces himself up. Izuku’s teeth are bare as he glares through the window.
It’s the fish Alien again.
“Fuck you.” He spits out.
The Alien only blinks back, his words meaningless. A fin rises and green eyes lock onto the purple meat that floats above her head.
The green-haired boy huffs. Breakfast?
“[----!]”
The sound is sharp and commanding.
The hairs on Izuku’s arms stand on end like the hackles of a dog. He leans down in his bed, green eyes piercing as they stay locked on the Alien, “ Fuck you—!”
BEEP!
He choaks on his words and the buzz of energy bites at his skin. The smell of ozone fills his nose.
It stops.
His shoulders shake and he presses his forehead against dry leaves.
“[----!]”
Swallowing, he sits back up, hands gripping the foliage. When he speaks his voice is worn, “Just… leave me alone…”
BEEP!
He doesn’t wait.
As soon as the pain stops, Izuku leaps from his bed of leaves and rushes to the window.
Fellow prisoners and guard shout—
His fist smashes through the crystal window inches from the alien's face—
BEEP!
“AH—!” His muscles lock up and he falls to his knees, his arm is quickly surrounded by crystal.
Shrill crackle arches—
Something in his collar clicks—
Sparks fly, bright like sparklers on the New Year—
and the pain stops.
His lungs are heaving, more sweat drips down his neck. His arm is still stuck in place, and his other hand grips it at his forearm. His fingers are white with pressure. Nails dig into his own arm, but the pain barely registers.
Vivid green eyes drag their way up and meet the— Shocked? Are they shocked? What is that expression on their face? — Fish Aliens face. The color on their body pales into pastels. The Jellyfish tentacles are up, flaring out like a startled cat.
They step back…then run down the hallway.
Izuku stays in place, left watching their back. None of the other prisoners make a sound, but he can feel their stares.
In one swift move, he yanks his arm back, and the crystal window shatters and repairs itself with an almost angelic clamor.
Without leverage, Izuku falls to the hard cell floor.
He winces and he pushes himself up, his freckled arm held close to his chest. Light scratches run over his skin leaving thin red lines. His hair is a mess, looking like a green dandelion.
A mechanical whirr has him looking over to the security camera, the gun below it moving the muzzle spinning.
Fuck—
—Fwoosh!
Izuku looks down, a small dart sticks out of his still-raised arm. A small tuft of purple is attached to the end.
The room blurs.
He dreams of drowning.
The smell of heat— sunlight, but that wrong— warm sun and the sound of running water is the first thing Izuku senses. Muscles tighten, and his heart picks up its pace. His mind beats back the fog of sleep because where the hell is he?!
Green eyes open and he audible gasps. Under the shade of a large tree— Tree?!— Purple branches and leaves form a familiar old sight.
The boy pushes himself up and his palms press down against warm red dirt.
A…forest? Jungle? Plant life surrounds him in this small sunny clearing. Instead of green, he’s met with purples— from the stems of various foliage to the thick trunks of trees— and reds— flowers and...fruit? He even catches small glimpses of bright yellow— patches of grass and stains on other plants.
A hand flies to his neck and— the same black collar is brushed by his fingertips. So…he’s still trapped… Put here purposefully?
Another hand moves to his face and…the muzzle is down, mouth free. Huh.
Beep!
He pauses…the sound…hadn’t come from the collar. He sits back and looks down to see….something on his chest…?
It’s some sort of… harness that wraps around his torso, waist, and shoulders. Brow furrowed, Izuku feels the thing’s cords, pulling and finding it tight, barely budging. It crosses over his chest like a giant X. Black and shining. A light of red runs in the center. Hands move and follow along until he reaches his back—
It’s connected to the back of his collar.
His chest bubbles with too many emotions, his mind already flying through more unanswered questions…until one dominates his consciousness.
Where am I?
Notes:
Edit: added more to the bar scene and added artwork!
Chapter 5: (First) Impression(s) prt 2
Notes:
Sorry this took so long!
I took a break from this story for one month because I was working on another MHA Project.
I didn’t finish it lol BUT! For this month I decided to instead work on the next chapter and really hated not updating last month. (I try to get at least 1 chapter a month)
Anyway! I hope you guys like this chapter! I already have some scenes written for the next one so look forward to an update in December ^^!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter Five - (First) Impression(s)
Izuku sits and observes. Green eyes reflect the forest— Jungle? — that surrounds the small clearing he woke up in. The sun above—
—Only…It’s not a sun that hangs from the sky above.
No. As Izuku tilts his head up, he meets bright field lights, similar to the ones that light up the Arena…
The boy’s eyes squint— and he looks away, back to scanning his wild, overgrown, environment.
It’s quiet. The notice has his mouth tugging into a frown. Seeing a forest, even one so Alien, he expects the song of birds or the click and chirp of insects. But, other than the distant sound of running water and the swish of wind, nothing else signals life .
Izuku pushes himself up and walks out of the shade of the tree he had woken up under.
The lights above may have substituted an actual sun, but the heat it gave off…
A hiss leaves his mouth— Muscle tense and he steps back under the shadow.
The sound of rustling leaves mimics the roar of a hungry crowd.
The sun … artificial…unwelcome, and nothing like his own back on Earth.
Nerves buzz as goosebumps rise.
He shakes his head, and green hair sways against the sides of his face. Huh, it’s barely grown since…the abduction…
He reaches up and grabs a strand, fingers twist and the curl tightens.
Great, another question without an answer.
Inhaling met slight resistance and he looks down at his new… accessory .
His harness.
.
A continuous red line of light runs in the middle of each strap as they cross into an ‘X’ over his chest. They wind back— each over his shoulders and around his waist to his back where a connecting strip trails over his spine to the back of his collar. Tight, formfitting.
He taps and checks out the Harness. Thoughts on what it could do…how it could harm him .
His heart gives a painful squeeze and he pulls his mind away to refocus on the present… his location.
Izuku takes a moment to glare at the ‘sun’ before he looks forward and steps back out into the ‘sunlight’. This time he knows to expect the harsh beams from field lights.
It’s strange to walk on what substitutes for grass here. It feels the same, soft, wielding blades that press back with the dampness of morning dew.
But the grass isn’t green, it’s purple. A soft light purple, lavender.
The boy crouches down and rips up a few strands. The familiar rubbery snap is nice. He brings a fistful to his face and sniffs. A sweet, floral scent greets him and he tilts his head. Yeah, this grass…it’s more like a type of flower than the grass back home.
He…doesn’t hate it.
Izuku stands back up and strides over to the far edge of the clearing. Tall, dark purple, near grey, trees stand tall. Easily towering over him. He’s seen taller, these are more like…two-story buildings.
Other plants grow lower, filling up and covering the floor. Blues, black, and dark purple plants. Large leaves the size of his torse block most of his view, but other splashes of color manage to catch his eye. Red and yellow flowers like dumbbells and stars spread throughout the foliage.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Stepping past a large tree and hopping over a low ‘fern’, Izuku takes his first steps into the forest— Jungle?
The snap and crunch of plant life rings of sweet familiarity…and has his heart racing with caution. Hating his own footfall.
He’s too loud. He needs to be quieter.
Izuku lowers himself, moving to the tips of his feet as he slinks forward.
His movements become softer, ears straining as his eyes bounce around.
It isn’t long until he hears the sound of running water. Izuku’s quick to follow it.
The walk isn’t long, only a few minutes pass before tall trees part and the underbrush spreads and ends. Bare feet press onto mud as the boy meets the edge of a stream.
Izuku wonders if everything here is fake. Put here on purpose like the lights in place of a sun. The ground dug up and turned into a stream. He wonders if the small stones that sit on the stream's bed were purposefully picked out to add some realism .
Why? Why go to all of this?
Splash!
Water sprays across his face—
The boy’s eyes widen.
A white fin dives back down and—
There, in crystal clear water, a small white fish swims against the current. The thing is about the size of his hand, maybe a little bigger. Instead of scales, a fur-like texture sticks to its flesh.
It’s bizarre and his face scrunches up with distaste. But…seals have fur; And just like a seal's coat, the fish's fur is sleek and shines under the ‘ sun’ .
Izuku crouches down, arms resting upon his knees as he sits. Large green eyes watch the fish in its lazy swim, barely moving forward as the current rushes by.
The white-furred fish’s gills expand and the boy's eyes are flashed by a vibrant red from within.
The mud under his bare feet has been warmed by the bright lights overhead.
Leaf's shimmer and dance as the wind passes by and Izuku doesn’t bother to wonder how that’s possible if he really is outside someplace far from his cell.
For a moment— If he just sits here in the calm, if he ignores the things that aren’t right — Izuku can pretend he’s back on Earth.
The weight and exhaustion that has dragged him down— Sent him into Nightmares, and threatened to consume him — fades.
Weightless, his mind drifts.
Izuku settles, crossed arms resting on his knees. The sound of the small stream burbles like a melody.
.
Izuku bolts upright and he gasps for air as if coming up from ice-cold water.
Sputtering and throwing himself up and out of his leafy bed.
Izuku lays on the metal floor, hands and legs scramble and he props himself up on his palms, face down and heaving with each breath.
Sweat drips down his face.
He looks up— and nothing’s changed. Everything about the large cell is the same.
Nothing’s— Hand press to his chest—
He’s still wearing the Harness.
He stares blankly at the concrete floor.
The forest…where—?
— Tap, tap, tap.
The hiss and snarl are automatic as the boy turns and sees the fish Alien that calls for his attention.
The flash of heat in his chest clears his head, anger fresh.
The Alien flinches and the satisfaction it brings makes Izuku smile. The baring of teeth just adds to the threatening display. That’s right, lay it on thick.
Leave me alone —
BEEEEEEEEP!
Hands press against his head, against his ears, as he hunkers down and cries out. The scream of noise floods his cell—
The pressure in the room lifts, and he’s light as if he’s in the arena.
The clank and roll of metal has him straightening, and the door to his cell is open— Door to his cell is open.
He leaps , eyes locked on the other side— the hallways within reach—
Beep!
Burning, stinking, stabbing pain , digs into every muscle, and he crashes onto the floor of his cell.
Izuku grits his teeth so he doesn’t bite his tongue off. Sounds stay stuck in his throat—
—The pain stops and he slumps down, boneless.
Lungs convulse as he lays upon cool metal.
In- Inhale.
Ex- h- hale.
Inhale…
Exhale…
When green eyes finally focus, the cell door is closed again and the crushing feeling is something he should’ve known to expect. Escape only a fool's dream.
“[----------.]”
The boy feels his muscles wind and tense, looking up and… standing beside the closed door is one of the guards. Like an oversized iguana, the bi-pedal alien shuffles in place. Their clawed hands are held close to their armored chest. And in those hands, a piece of bright purple meat is held like something precious.
The growl that rolls from his throat has the intruder stepping back.
Green eyes flicker over to the large window— the fish alien watches them.
“[----------.]”
Izuku looks back, a frown on his face as he pushes himself up.
The Lizard alien raises the meat, “[----------! —!]”
“...” The boy stays crouched low, watching. He will fight, but, he isn’t a pet . They can’t make him act like one.
The Lizard alien’s eyes dart around, snapping down if the boy makes any movement but avoiding any direct eye contact.
The alien’s long spiked tail lashes about, “[ Terranian. ]”
Izuku perks up.
Oh , he knows that words. Know’s they call him that.
The Lizard alien straightens, catching the boy's glimmer of understanding. They hold out the meat again, “[ Terranian, —! ]”
Green eyes narrow and the boy leans forward.
The alien huffs, “[---!]”
“No.”
The guard physically recoils from the word. A single, deep, bark of a sound. The spines on their back, bristle, and quiver.
A smile tugs at the sides of Izuku’s mouth, unable to keep down bubbles of amusement.
Tap, tap, tap.
Both occupants of the cell turn to see the fish alien waving over to the guard, “[---- —---- —-!]”
In a way, Izuku expects the Lizard alien to snap at the harsh tone.
But instead, the boy watches as the Replinian Alien bows their head, slit eyes still open and locked onto the human.
Then, the Alien… lowers themself in a slight crouch— Kind of like a squat? Curtsy?— before breathing out a short, hushed reply, “[---, ---.]”
When they straighten their poster, their voice comes out stronger, louder, “[ Terranian, ]”
Izuku stiffens, gritting his teeth and watching.
The meat is raised. “[---!]”
“…” Izuku stares blankly. Unimpressed.
His stomach growls, and the Alien in front of him stills.
The boy yawns widely, he still hasn’t been given any breakfast…Huh.
When Izuku looks over to start intently at his ‘visitor’ the other steps back, and the purple meat they hold is moved to their chest like a shield.
“[------------, —-.]” That word. The word is again, said with fear.
Green eyes narrow, what are you calling me?
The boy crouches down like a cat,— the Lizard Alien takes another step back— locking onto the piece of meat.
Bang, bang, bang!
He ignores the dull slamming against the crystal window. More words are being shouted, meaningless.
The tall Alien twist— Clawed feet kick off the cold concrete— Izuku springs forward—!
Slamming into the other’s scaled body, the two roll, and stop— the boy on top of them—
His visitor lets out a sharp hiss. Dropping the hunk of bloody meat onto their chest their arms flail— before Izuku pins them to the Alien's sides.
The Lizard alien lets out another high-pitched hiss, nearly turning the sound into a scream. Their tail slaps against the floor uselessly.
Heavy breathing fills the room.
Izuku bends down— the Alien struggles, but they can’t escape the Terranian’s crushing grip and heavyweight. They speak and the words are a plea, “[----! – —-!]”
Squelch.
The Alien quiets. Wide yellow eyes look at the Deathworlder above them, bright green eyes curve and the purple meat is held in its jaws. A strange jolting sound comes from their chest, shaking both of them. Even with the bloody meat in their mouth— dripping purple onto their chest armor— the creature’s mouth only stretches more, eyes curving—
Then they're gone. Halfway across the room and already devouring the chunk of flesh.
The Lizard alien scrambles back not taking their eyes off the boy, before turning and— The door is closed.
Despair is a broken hiss that pulls from their throat as they hit the metal door.
The sound of mechanical movement has Izuku looking up at the camera in the corner of the room. It turns, watching him. The lens spins, zeroing in.
Izuku narrows his eyes back and glances over to the Lizard Alien. Seeing it still trying to get out he sighs and looks back to the camera. I won't kill them. He tries to convey. But he doubts they understand.
Fine, acting disinterested might work. Like a dog ignoring a ball.
The boy licks at the juice that drips from his chin before finishing off the food. Letting his eyelids fall half closed he exaggerated a yawn.
He hears the camera lens spin again and the banging from the Lizard alien stops.
Izuku moves into a stretch, eyes shutting as joints pop loudly and he falls back against the wall.
Silence.
Eyes open and meet a very wide-eyed Lizard alien. Their spines raised, back pressing against the large door. Their mouth is open and their breathing can be seen from here— Heavy and fast.
BEEEEEEEEP!
The boy winces.
The mechanical movement of gears turns as metal sings— The cell door opens.
Izuku grabs at the straps of his harness but doesn’t move. He watches as the Lizard Alien runs from the room like hell is at their tail.
He huffs. Already the day has exhausted him.
Wiping purple-stained hands on his suit he lets sleep grab him.
It begs for him to fall under.
So he does.
The Deathworlder goes flying — crashing face-first into the side of the Area.
Red blood spills— and it’s his . Nose bleeding and broken. Painting pink walls in bright, loud, red.
The crowd cheers like the wing-beat of a thousand birds. They cheer for more violence.
And they get it.
Bubbles and drowning are a welcome sensation compared to the adrenaline that slowly leaves his body.
Eyes move under closes lids.
Fingers twitch as a boy’s mind races.
Warm wet hands grip bone and the creature's mouth is ripped open, coming off at the hinges. Saliva and blood coat him like a second skin.
His heart aches and the tears that stream down his face leave clean marks on freckles skin.
His voice breaks, “I’m sorry.”
Breathe in liquid and fall under the waves.
Helpless? How could a beast— Monster — like him be helpless? His opponents are no match for him.
A strangled laugh crawls up his throat and he swallows the sound down. He can’t lose himself here. Not during a fight.
‘Then why are you still trapped? Caged and made to battle to the death?’
‘Why are you still here?!’
A small hand reaches for their mother, blinded by bright lights and deafened by heavy rain.
The boy wakes up on soft, lavender, grass.
The smell of gentle heat and the wound of dancing trees is a hug to his broken self.
Izuku lays on his stomach, head turned to the side under the false sun.
Home .
The sob that comes from him—
I want to—!
—has his whole body shaking.
—go home!
Hands, soft, perfect, callous free— like he hasn’t been fighting for months— grip clumps of grass, grounding himself as if he’s scared he’ll simply lift front he clearing and float away.
Sobs turn to whines as more tears fall free.
The feeling of sticky blood— Not there! It’s not there! — sticks to his body and he finds himself scrubbing his body with more clumps of grass. Uprooting the lavender, dirt and purple grass stains stretch across his armor, hands, and face.
Time passes.
His cries putter out like the last raindrops of a spring storm. His nails have chipped and some strands of grass have sliced through his skin, leaving ‘paper’ cuts.
The floral scent around him has fluctuated between too much, choking , and calming , a balm to the pain in his heart.
Inhale.
Exhale.
A few mot shuttering breaths leave him…He quiets down. The broken noises that burst from his wet lips are pitiful, threatening to take him back to the broken mess he was moments before.
He refuses.
Red-rimmed eyes blink and he blearily looks up to the same clearing he had woken up in.
The same forest towers over him. Still small compared to the trees he remembers from back on Earth. But the nature that surrounds him is a comfort.
Another gentle breeze rushes through the clearing, tousling his curly bush of hair.
Sniffling loudly, he uses his arm to whip at his running nose—
He pauses…and a heavy sigh falls from his lips. His nose…it’s not broken anymore.
Tired eyes look down at his arm, mind somewhere else. Like all injuries, they never stick and he’s ‘Good-as-New’ for the next fight.
The hair on his arms rise and a chill runs through him.
Pushing himself up, Izuku walks into the forest.
He walks until he can’t. Not from exhaustion…but because of the tall fence that signals the edge of this place.
He’s…in an enclosure . A zoo animal. A pet.
They take care of him. Erasing any injury. Providing him with food, a ‘bed’ , and a way to shower. Dread grows like dark clouds overhead. The deep roar of thunder echoes in his mind. This new freedom only cements his purpose here. His long-term purpose here.
They want to keep him.
Pale, freckled, hands hover over thick metal cords. The buzz of electricity is deadly, and just the sound of his had the hairs on his arms rise.
Green eyes roam over the giant fence that runs around his Enclosure .
Would that make his cell, his kennel?
High-pitched laughter burst from his throat— hands slam across his mouth, cutting the sound off.
Shut up.
Choking down hysterical laughter and looks back to the…fence.
A part of him wonders if the shock would be enough to kill him— Izuku throws himself back. Nonononono don’t think of that SHUT UP—!
bREATHE.
BREATHE!
His blood is screaming as it runs through his body, fingers digging into his arms, and— He is on his back, staring at the underside of a large purple leaf.
Breathe.
He does. Gasping and swallowing building saliva.
A ringing in his ears slowly fades out.
The foliage under his back is barely felt through his harness and armor.
He doesn’t think. He can’t afford to think . Not right now.
A wet sheen washes over green eyes. Izuku blinks and a familiar prickle is felt at the edges of his eyes.
Not right now.
“[— and you still fail me R’za. The thing fights but refuses to listen.]”
“[ I-I’m sorry, Sir—]”
“[I don’t want to hear you grovel. I want you to fix it. That thing is mine and what’s mine? Will obey .] ”
September 10th 22xx
They're cut off from outputting a signal past the Wormhole. But it’s expected, places like these usually put out signal blockers. It’s not supposed to be found. They have to work quickly and more importantly quietly. Any number of things could go wrong if they’re found out: Torture, Death, then the whole operation running off and disappearing far into the outreaches of space.
So far things have gone…alright.
Drakis-10-20847, a Dead Planet (A planet that never had life), is a small thing with lots of activity.
.
Forever cast in darkness beside it’s own mini-moon. Citylights are the only sign of life.
Security is harsh, but their ongoing cover works wonders with their connections and they’re given permission to land among the other ‘tourists visiting.’ Acting as lowlives curious about the rumored Deathworlder at this particular Fightingring.
They aren’t here to shut the place down. The place would only fall into hiding before being rebuilt again. Too many criminals and too much to lose.
They’re just here to get the Terranina Deathworlder. A creature deemed too dangerous…a weapon that’s being used to kill.
A’zawa sighs when posters of the ‘Monsterious Deathworlder’ appear on every corner street. The image is a silhouette of the creature, slapped against walls, or pinned to various posts. Even a few holo advertisement screens flash with the Deathworlder rings ‘Champion’ .
H’za’shii walks beside him, head swerving about like an excited Tourist— But the I-line Thera can see the way the other’s yellow feathers press down, how large black claws clack together once in a while. The Volicor is scared…and A’zawa doesn’t blame him.
This mission is a mess. Never has a Terranian been taken right from under the Intergalactic Safety Commission’s snout. It’s already killed a full crew of Alatheina Poachers…and now it’s killing whatever—whoever— is thrown at it.
A suicide mission with a slim chance of success…and now?
A’zawa pauses outside their ship— it blends in with the other hunks of junk parked beside it, and the outside is colored with rust and scrap metal. A least the inside was better.
The two still wear their ‘costumes’ heavy jackets, and worn-down pants— a heavy/thick fabric that covers almost his entire quadrupedal lower body— Dark in color with old stains.
Both have on a pair of working gloves.
The eye patch is annoying but he’s got three other eyes so it doesn’t really matter.
They fit right in.
“[I’ll be watching tonight.]” The Feline Alien says aloud, knowing others— curious — are listening.
They’re using the translators even though Hi’za’shii doesn’t need them. But others are listening and it would be weird if it looked like they were having a ‘secret’ conversation in the opening. People would only grow more curious.
The large ‘cat’ poses casually against the side of the ship, the end of his tail flicking playfully, the persona of a casual immature smuggler. “[You sure you don’t want to watch? Heard the thing’s pretty violent.]” The words end in a purr and for a second A’zawa hates the character he’s forced to portray.
At least he’s not alone.
H’za’shii whistles, the sound easily carries, an obnoxious displeased whine that cuts through the bustle of the other ‘guest’. “[Seats filled up before I could buy!]” His beak snaps loudly, and his head feathers puff up before settling down, “[I’ll catch it some other time.]”
The I-line Thera huffs and pulls away from the ship, moving towards the exit of the Parking Area, “[You’re missing out!]”
H’za’shill calls back, “[I know!]”
As soon as A’zawa has made it far enough away, taking his time to walk towards the large colosseum far north of the city, his body relaxes, and his eyes glint with a sharpness to them. A cat on the prowl.
He’s quiet, paws silent as he walks through busy crowds, the marketplace lingers on the edges of the ‘city’, away from the colosseum so as to not disrupt audience members from ordering food inside. But he’s glad as he walks through, then past them, the smell of food no longer clotting his nose.
It only lasts a moment though. Soon the smell of food is replaced by the smell of bodies and old/fresh blood.
The plaza is bustling with energy, it isn’t anything pretty, simply a space before the entrance of the Colosseum. A divine between the rest of the city.
A’zawa stops, and he isn’t alone as a few other pedestrians take in the sight of the giant Colosseum. A fortress and a fighting ring. The place is bigger than UASLP. The building makes him feel small and insignificant. A place he can’t simply sneak into . Not without extensive planning.
Twin tails tighten around his shoulders.
And that’s just what he’s doing, entering as a simple audience member thirsting to see violence and scoping out what he can while inside.
And…
A’zawa walks forward, yellow eye looking over to one of the large posters that hang from the side of the Collossiums entrance. The figure is still a silhouette.
…he needs to be sure this really is the Terranian Deathworlder.
His black fur and outfit help him sleek through the ‘night city’, moving past hoards of excited audience members.
Security is, once again, harsh. Weapons are in the open and guards stand tall and mean beside each entrance. Different species of all kinds, but all look tough and ready to start something.
He flashes his smuggler card and the red-shelled Tor’zidain’s feelers run over it. A few clicks slip from their mouth and A’zawa doesn’t need a Translator to pick up the spit words.
He doesn’t react and only acts casual, dumb, a naive kitten excited to see death.
His card is thrust back into his paws and he’s being waved through.
“[Nice!]” He says out loud steps picking up speed in false hype.
A clear, young, voice cheers through the flood of entering people and A’zawa glances over.
Huh, a Tr’ah’lik. Usually, they stick close to their planet, Orusana. The flowering tree moves on three large roots. Thorned vines crawl up their suit and around their torso like the strap to a nonexistent bag. Pretty bright orange/red flowers grow from their arms and the top of their head.
They’re small, barely [Three feet] , and they’re welcoming guests and handing out maps? “[Welcome! This should help you find your seat! Just follow the symbol for each section, then count down from Sof!]”
A’zawa grabs a piece, the map is tattooed onto some type of hide, and he pushes any thoughts about that out of his mind as quickly as they come.
The Callosum is a giant circle and his seat is in the first quarter beside the entrance. Convenient and he doesn’t have to walk far.
Aliens move like Sl’Druss up a poisoned stream and the I-line Thera simply follows along until he reaches his section. The energetic buzz of thousands of bodies has his fur standing on end. The energy fuels him. Like a current, it threatens to sweep him up and up.
Taking a seat is a relief and it grounds him to the world around him.
The stands are cast in cool shadows. Like each row is carved into the colosseum's circular walls like Balconies on a communal housing unit; Each row is a story, and each section is a quarter of the Callosum.
A metal fence crisscrosses in front of the opening side of each row, blocking the audience from the arena. A barrier, a shield…or a cage?
A’zawa is at least three stories up from the ground floor.
Large screens hang from a towering pillar in the middle of the Arena. Each screen is slightly curved and each faces the audience. Words in Common scroll across each screen, coupled with a timer in the upper right corner.
4 C’zon
Deathworlder vs ???
The Arena itself is bright, blinding if he were to look at the overhead lights. A fake desert is where the show takes place, wide, enough for several ships to park on. Pillars of red stone give the plain expanse of sand and dirt some variety—possibly places for fighters to use, shields, or places to hide.
The row of chairs can change with a simple press of a button. Metal contractions that fold if one wants a perch or some other seat.
A’zawa goes for a simple rectangular cushion, long enough for his lower body to lie upon.
The Aliens around him have taken their seats, the timer continues to tick down.
The smell of food invades his senses and the sound of thousands of voices is a bit overwhelming. A’zawa’s paws ache to unsheathe, to claw , but he focuses on the screens above.
Yellow eyes drift down to the Arena—
The timer hits zero.
—a voice cuts through the wall of noise.
“[WELCOME ONE AND ALL TO TODAY'S SHOW!]”
The deafening cries of onlookers have the I-like Tera’s pressing his ears back. All four eyes are wide as the sound fills the entire area.
The announcer’s voice is robotic, speaking like a true showman as he hypes the crowd up.
[Another day of merciless violence, a fight for survival, hopeless despair! Are you ready to see…A FIGHT TO THE DEATH?!]
Bracing for the thunderous noise does nothing as his body tenses and winds with anticipation of what’s to come.
“[And our Champion ?]”
Spectators rush forward, standing and pressing against the fence as eyes look down towards the left entrance. A’zawa is one of them. Hearts race as slit eyes watch. A’zawa can’t tell if it’s with the intensity of a predator on a hunt…or prey watchful of an approaching hunter.
The wall is open, darkness on the other side.
“[A DEATHWORLDER!]”
A’zawa has his paw gripping the chain-link fencing.
Leaning forward, four eyes narrow as he peers down at the left side wall as it slides open.
The Deathworlder is pushed through and the arena roars with excitement. Spectators next to him bang against the barrier, causing it to shake and ring.
It’s unsteady, legs stepping forward barely reacting to the crowd.
The screen above focuses on the creature and A’zawa feels something inside dip with reassurance— they’ve found it, the Terranian Deathwrolder. It really is here!
Ah.
An icy feeling fills his veins.
They’ve found it. It’s here.
“[And our next sacrifice- er I mean opponent!]”
Now the right side wall opens up.
A quadrupedal D’luthroan scampers back as the wall closes shut behind them. The simple spear beside it is practically useless without a set of prosthetic hands made for those without thumbs.
When the announcer's voice bast through the overhead speakers, the D’luthroan’s furry helmet-like head snaps up to the surrounding audience. Eyes dilated.
A’zawa glances over to the Terrarian, noting it still hasn’t moved. Though it’s looking at its prey with harrowing intensity. As if it sees nothing else.
The I-line Thera’s hackles raise.
“[A D’luthroan, but what many know his as: SHALIK R’ZIN! With a 300,000,000 X’ne bounty he’s Dealt in dealing and sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong!]”
Jeers and laughter rose from the crowd.
“[Today our little guest gets an offer, OF A LIFETIME!]”
More cheering.
“[If he loses? His head will be given to a bounty station.]
More laughter.
“[Win?]” The words come to light, mocking, “[He’ll receive sanctuary, treatment, and a hefty sum of X’ne!]”
Aliens around A’zawa Hollar with laughter. The I-line Thera’s ears pulled back and he spoke out loud, “[They don’t expect him to win.]”
The Bull’Drot to his left snorted and steam blew from his snout, “[Unlike other matches where winning can happen…any match with this Deathworlder will only result in Death.]”
“[Exactly,]” A voice behind the two chimes in, “[They don’t go in there to win…they go there to die!]”
The knot in A’zawa’s gut tightens, mouth going dry
The Announcer’s voice cries out, “[Let the game, BEGIN![”
The Terranian is fast, running straight toward the helpless opponent.
The guy only has time to leap away, just as the creature makes an impact with the wall— The stadium shakes from the force, and the crowd screams.
A’zawa hisses and his fur fluffs up as round ears lay flat.
He would be embarrassed, but everyone in the crowd is reacting much the same. Feathers sticking up, claws out, noises of surprise, and primal fear.
This… is the strength and speed of a Terranian Deathworlder.
Then the Terranian is moving again, barely waiting a moment after colliding with the wall, moving like a machine it rushes over to the D’luthroan— Shalik R’zin.
A’zawa presses close to the fence and other audience members do the same. Some with sick enthusiasm, others— like himself— with fear. A fear for Shalik, a thief, a criminal, a villain. He didn’t deserve this.
A’zawa’s heart pounds like a drum as the Deathworlder leaps upon its prey— Shalik is twisting around to face their Hunter dead-on.
Bodies meet and the two go skirting and rolling across the red desert Arena.
The audience hollers and A’zawa and others look up at the large screen above, cameras focusing on the two.
The Terranian has the other’s armored rock-like arm in its hold—
SNAP!
A’zawa jerks back, stomachs rolling with nauseating sickness.
Yellow eyes stay locked onto the screen above, blue blood covers both bodies and it’s not the Deathworlders.
Everyone watches as the predator grabs Shalik’s helmet-like head, fur wet with blood, and—
Slams it down until its prey stops moving.
The audience is yelling, and entertained by the brutal display.
A’zawa looks away from the screen, back down to the Arena below.
The I-line Thera has his claws out, fur still puffed up as he fights to calm down.
That thing…there’s no way it’s sentient. A dangerous predator.
A’zawa notes that the Deathworlder loses interest in its prey as soon as it’s down. He wonders if it simply has a high prey drive that eating is only secondary to the act of hunting and killing.
Then the bounty’s head is cut off and it rolls.
A’zawa choaks, “[Why?]”
A guy beside him glances over, “[Heh, well they don’t want the Thing to mess 'em up more. Bounty still needs to be recognizable. See?]”
A tentacle points and A’zawa looks down to see the Deathworlder backing away, “[The thing’s already lost interest.]” A bark of laughter, “[Guess the thing likes to play with it’s food. No fun in going after something already dead.]”
A’zawa continues to watch the creature, everything inside of him screams warnings of danger . That the thing before him is something he should never encounter. That peace was never an option and he should run, far-far-far-away from here.
The announcer's voice is muffled as he stays staring at the Terraninan Deathworlder. The world is somewhere else and he can’t look away.
Despair grips him and the fur that runs down his upper body’s spine spikes up.
We can’t risk…
Images of his crew’s death by the thing’s overpowering strength and merciless cruelty flash through his mind.
… bringin' this Deathworlder back alive.
I’m sorry…! I’m sorry…! I’m sorry…!
Izuku looks deep into the running water. Light reflects off shiny river rocks.
Blunt nails dig into soft palms.
10-C-A Beeps, light flashing yellows, “[It really is them…?]”
“[It’s them. The Terranian Deathworlder…]” His voice is dead. Calm in a way that holds a deep-rooted wariness. A warning.
Neh’muur’ii frowns and her antennas twitch, “[What?]”
The I-line Thera scowls and meets her gaze head-on, “[I don’t think we should prioritize keeping it…]” Ears flatten, “[... alive .]”
H’za’shii squawks, “Kill it!?”
Guilt flashes over A’zawa’s face and fanged teeth flash for a moment.
Neh’muur’ii leans over the table, towards the pather-like Alien, serious, “[Why?]”
He is almost thankful for the question, able to explain. Yellow slit eyes glance over to their Team Leader 10-C-A but the Z’thero remains quiet, watching.
He straightens, “[That thing kills without mercy, the strength and power it displayed in the arena isn’t something we can handle safely.]”
Neh’muur’ii speaks plainly, “[I’snt that why I’m here?]”
She watches as A’zawa huffs, “[It’s quick, able to run faster than a Eq’wan’soth.]”
Silence takes over the room. Heavy as everyone takes in the I-line Thera’s words. The seasoned Hero’s wariness can’t and shouldn’t be overlooked.
A buzz comes from Neh’muur’ii before she leans back, “[I want to take a look for myself.]”
H’za’shii chirps in the background, “[You’re going!?]”
Neh’muur’ii looks troubled, “[I trust you, but, we have a choice in this.]”
The sigh that comes from the I-line Thera is heavy with exhaustion, “[Fine.]”
This draws a glimmer of amusement from the Poiis’spite, “[I’m not asking permission.]”
“[That’s right!]”
All three Aliens freeze before looking over to their leader 10-C-A.
But the Hero only beeps out a few light notes, an imitation of joy, “[Take a zot’hit Camera, We’ll go over the footage together!]”
A’zawa looks away at that, embarrassment has his tail flickering about irritably.
H’za’shii, next to him now, trills.
Thunk,
Thunk,
Thunk.
Three quick knocks resound off metal. Echoing through the new silent ship as each member freezes in place.
All four look at each other bodies tense—
A blast has movement returning to the Team of Heroes and 10-C-A is already shooting.
Bursts of electricity shoot through the air—
Shouting, another language not meant for them to understand—
H’za’shii is screeching, the sound causes a few of the intruders to collapse—
A’zawa snarls as a body leaps at him and the I-Line Thera is already fighting back, swift and slamming the slim, slimy, Glom’pit against the table. More slime splatters out like blood—
Another screech is joined by more gunfire—
Neh’muur’ii shouts and A’zawa looks over—
—something smashes against the back of his head.
Red-rimmed green eyes flash…and red runs down the boy’s pale neck.
Lips tighten and browns furrow.
Izuku stands tall, hands in fists at his side; One hand holds onto a large rock.
Tear stains mark their way down his freckles face.
A broken object that used to be his collar lays discarded behind him, the black material is warped and frayed as if torn apart. The red light that used to circle the item is dead.
Izuku, the human boy, looks up at the tall Electric Fence.
Notes:
Things are building up!!! Excited for the next part!!!
Chapter 6: Mo/Imprison(ment)
Summary:
Freedom turns to Chaos
Izuku is BAMF
A'zawa's going through it
Notes:
Guys, I have planned this since October, and finally, it is here! The longest chapter!!! I rewrote this like four times and had to do so much editing. I’m sorry this took so long, but I wanted to do my best! Hope you like it!
I will add the pictures later as I am TIRED AF. (check in the next few days lol)
Love you guys, seriously, without you I probs would’ve never gotten that far! Your comments motivated me to keep going!
Chapter Text
Chapter Six - Mo/Imprison(ment)
White light shines down upon him; Darkness plays at its edges.
A yell that’s scrambled by a translator, animalistic words turn to stutter glitches as pain obscures any meaning.
Chains rattle and claws fail to scrap against metal flooring.
Reflection and shadow dance around a thrashing form.
Pain comes from each movement. Sometimes burning, sometimes aching, other times it’s venomous torture.
A’zawa’s arms are tied behind his back while his lower body is strapped down to the floor. All four legs are cuffed and chained to the floor. A collar keeps his twin tails pressed against his furred neck.
A caged muzzle is strapped around his face. Stretching his jaw, the I-line Thera is relieved he can still open his mouth.
Black fur becomes slick and sticky with sweet blood. The candied scent is stomach-turning.
Things are broken. Burning waves of pain spread from snapped and fractured bones.
The smell of burnt fur and the sharp sting from open cuts pulls a hiss from his scrunched-up face.
Stabbing pain—
The cry that falls from A’zawa’s mouth. Then it tumbles and turns into something softer—A wet gasp that pulls at strained vocal cords like a kit playing with overgrown Aculat stems.
The noise sputters out.
A’zawa takes in stale air and all three hearts race.
The tall Alien that stands before him hasn’t spoken a single word since he woke up in this room. They are an Alien with marble-like skin, cold to the touch. A sprint body begins at the waist and ends in a long scaled tail. A ridge of spikes crowns their head.
Six ice-blue eyes glance over him like he is an object, an item he carves up and burns.
Four arms hold various instruments, pausing once in a while to examine them with clinical eyes.
They breathe out from some sort of mask that covers the bottom half of their face and a white mist puffs out.
.
In the beginning, A’zawa tried to speak, asking what they wanted. His words are ignored as if he’s not speaking them at all. Only pain communicates the other’s ire at his very existence.
So he stopped talking.
Time passes but he doesn’t drift. He’s not allowed to. Brought back to the present with each mark of torture they inflict upon him.
Time passes still…But has no meaning.
Then there is a pause. The pain is allowed to dull and he blinks.
Staring out at nothing.
Swallowing and tasting his own blood, the I-Line Thera composes himself. Tries to.
Dark blue blood drips over sharp canines, mixing with spit as it drips to the metal floor.
His own shadow darkens his blurry reflection, a dim comfort as he stares back at himself.
It’s been…how many R’uud’n have passed? How long has he been chained here?
Yellow eyes snap open. Hearts’ leap.
Where are the others—
“[—Ah,]”
A’zawa stills.
A deep, teasing voice cuts through the room. Hanging back in the shadows while he is stuck under a blinding white light.
The I-line Thera snaps to attention. Ears pull forward and hackles rise. All four eyes open, pupils dilating.
But all he sees is darkness past the blinding overhead light.
A hooked appendage darts forward and A’zawa can’t even jerk back before it grabs at his caged muzzle, forcing his head up as his captor steps into view.
“[Y’uul’Xs seems to have done an good job with you.]”
Fur spikes and the wounded I-Line Thera snarls, claws extending on reflex. It’s not his torturer that commands his attention. Not for the first time, A’zawa’s mind is lost on the race of the other Alien.
The other’s body mimics rock, whether it actually is similar or just is made to look like it he doesn’t know. The dark red rock has cracks that are filled with a bright orange-yellow light, like lava.
A black tar-like substance leaks from various joints.
Claw hooks are attached to the end of each leg, black and shiny.
Six black eyes stare down and match a set of twin fangs.
.
“[You have strange companions…Smuggler.]” Black eyes shine back, a cruel glint of light in them. The eyes of a predator. “[Or should I call you, Hero? ]”
The title is said like a curse, an insult .
A’zawa doesn’t react, holding the other’s heavy gaze with his own yellow feline eyes. Instincts claw and scrape for escape, and he only binds them down tighter. Now is not the time to be overrun with them.
The large, multi-legged Alien chuckles, the sound is like clicking marbles, “[Let’s see how long you’ll keep that mask up.]”
His captor walks across the room, away, and into the darkness.
He hears things move. Objects are shuffled and placed upon metal counters. Things tink and thud.
The Alien’s own body shuffles about, their large body is a presence that can hardly be unnoticed— Even if the I-line Thera can’t see them, his whiskers can pick up the shift in the air as the other moves around the room.
“[It’s a wonder your species has survived this long.]” Size black eyes stare down at him, an unblinking threat that has his mind screaming, “[An impossible feat that one of your kind has made it onto the path of a Hero. ]”
The other’s voice barely makes it past the Panic his mind is fighting through. He’s stuck under the other’s unwavering attention. The instinct to get away is suffocating. A baby Ch’k’ld under an E’grock’s hungry gaze.
“[Unfortunately for you, I’m not one to wonder at such miracles . You’ll be dead soon enough.]” The words are casual, uncaring, “[No one will care.]”
A’zawa supposes he should feel despair and hopelessness . But instead, he’s reassured. No one else will come looking for him = no one else will wind up like his team.
Unless they do.
There’s still a Deathworlder that needs to be retrieved. The ISC won’t simply give up.
“[They might not come.]” He says it and doesn’t believe it. Not when their last transmission gave them a lead to where the Deathworlder could be. A whole team of highly trained Heroes disappearing? Even if they wanted this mission to be discreet, their team wouldn’t just vanish, not if they weren’t close. “[This was a high-stakes mission. The death of the crew was a possible outcome.]”
Rolling laughter, the crash of a Deathworld’s turbulent weather system, “[They’re gonna show up.]”
The huge Alien’s fangs click, “[I know Heroes . Either they’ll come in search of you, or they’ll try to finish the mission you failed.]”
A hiss of anger stays stuck in his throat. A’zawa’s words come out in a growl and he’s glad the translator is still able to make sense of them, “[So then what?]”
He coughs, the sound wet and ragged, “[The ISC has an idea of where you are…]” Teeth bare, play along, and get answers, “[Gonna have to pack up and run? Disappear to some place, far, far away—?]”
.
—A leg rises—
A’zawa’s head snaps to the side. His own teeth cut into the inner side of his mouth.
Multiple black eyes stare down at him, piercing, “[ S’kratt like you , should be culled. ]”
The large Alien turns away, “[Heroes parading peace …Why would I miss a chance of cutting down the numbers of the Intergalactic Space Commission?]”
The cat-like Alien spits blood, bright yellow eyes squinting up at the other, [And r-risk—]” Lungs shutter as dark blue blood trickles down A’zawa’s face, “[—losing the Deathworlder?]”
“[Risk?]”
Fangs click with buzzing laughter, “[You better pray to Raulaydis—]”
Yellow eyes narrow, and A’zawa’s large canines grit with unsettled force.
“[—that the ISC stays away. Because I risk nothing.]”
The large spider-like alien walks and his legs clatter against the metal floor. He circles the I-line Thera. “[You see… that thing might not be trained yet. But aggravated by attacking forces?]”
Images of bloodshed, and death, flood the Hero's mind.
Their captor's voice turns into a deep rumble, “[It has no side. A creature cornered.]” Their voice lifts and fangs rise with sick joy, “[I doubt a Deathworlder knows what mercy is.]”
A’zawa stays quiet. Claws out but useless in their constraints.
The large alien pauses, stopping beside his prisoner, “[Staying will be worth it.]”
A hooked leg settles upon A’zawa’s shoulder, hooks grip, and he’s pushed up till his head lifts. The feline-like alien snarls.
His capture ignores this, “[Seeing Heroes die? Worth it.]”
So, this is it then, beaten close to death and taunted at before he’s killed. A Heroe’s death, truly. To be taken and tortured after failing his mission. His name will be spoken by those in the know with caution, maybe he’ll be missed.
Or he’ll be forgotten.
A’zawa’s captor steps back on eight legs and the release of his shoulder has him nearly collapsing in place.
His body trembles as he looks down at the reflective floor.
Yellow eyes are glazed, and the sirens in his mind become distant ringing.
He…he needs…
Teeth bare.
Muscles protest when he forces himself to straighten his upper torso.
Head held high and ears pressed back.
A’zawa looks right at the giant Alien, “Where are they—?!” His own language falls upon his ears.
“[Heh,]” The fanged Alien tilts his head— As if watching something mildly amusing, like a Wah’lo’war pup tripping over its own feet.
A’zawa coughs.
One of their hooked legs rises, and dangling from it hangs a small metal device.
A chill runs down A’zawa’s spines.
“[Funny, how such a small device can do so much. Turning off your translator is easy. You won’t need to be heard and now you're reduced to something that won’t be.]”
A growl is A’zawa’s only response. His mind is a mess and the action only brings further amusement to his captor.
Great, he can’t even talk back.
The sentence: “Where are they!?” replays with an urgency he can’t keep down. A question that can’t be asked…and then he’ll die.
Wounds throb, blood streams down, and one of his eyes burns.
“[Connections aren’t everything. The low lives that work with the ISC aren’t so noble .]” They tuck the small device into a coat pocket, “[The ISC aren’t as smart as they want everyone to believe.]”
Yellow eyes expand before turning into slits as they lock back onto the other Alien.
A’zawa pushes through the pain and watches with reflective yellow eyes as eight legs carry the huge Alien around the dark room.
His captor stops behind the bound Hero.
The light, that peeks from scarlet rock, cools and dims . Their captor's very presence frosts over. Their voice moves with a heavy weight, like glaciers in icy waters.
“[Information on you guys was worth more than a simple get-out-of-jail-free card.]”
His jaw clenches.
“[To be tricked so easily…to lose Heroes so easily. ]”
A’zawa feels the Alien’s overbearing presence move back…and away, circling around until they’re standing in front of the Hero again.
“[The one setting you up with all those jobs…]”
A’zawa’s hearts stop.
“[...Sold you out.]”
Hot anger flashes—
That faceless individual betrayed them. Betrayed the ISC. Gotten his team…!
—and twists .
Shedding its embers and leaving behind chard remains. The feeling makes his teeth ache. The growl in his chest turns into a whine that he swallows down.
A wet click belays the other’s amusement, “[Heroes really are the unwanted scum of the Intergalactic Space Commission. Do you really think a criminal would willingly work with them? With you? ]”
One of the legs lifts and latches onto the Hero’s shoulder.
A’zawa flinches— Chains rattle and hooks dig into flesh.
“[Balance is tipping,]” Pitch black eyes shine. “[Soon, the ISC will fall.]” The hooks dig into muscle and a hiss is pulled from A’zawa’s maw. Blood streams down, fresh and sweet.
“[Unable to be understood, like an animal.]” His captor's own hiss is a mocking laugh, “[Why don’t you die like one. ]”
With his collar off, the muzzle on his face stays open, and it makes sense. The sharp beep every time the muzzle would shut after each match. The signal must be dead now.
He grins widely.
The rock in his hand feels like freedom. The weight of this moment is everything. Because of this rock.
It’s funny, in a way.
A rock could be just that. Something barely spared a moment’s thought.
But…
It could be something more. It would. It is . A tool.
A simple tool.
Izuku only needed something he could get a good grip on. Something that wouldn’t shatter in his hands— like bones, like desperate hope—
Something to smash against the metal post that connected and powered thick metal cords.
Things off earth…are more fragile— like lives, like opponents in the ring — easy to break.
Or he’s just…stronger? Humans are stronger?
It doesn’t take much force to bludgeon the screwed-in panel on the side of one of the towering metal posts. The plate gets crushed in and the corners pop out with three quick hits.
Dropping his ‘tool’ he pulls off the square metal plate— dropping that onto lavender grass.
Wires, symbols, and lights are an organized mess inside the post. It reminds him of being in the computer lab at school. Checking out one of the giant servers that stand tall at the back of the room.
And…he ignores crashing waves, emotions too prickly to deal with right now.
The boy shakes his head and his curly green hair bounces.
Picking up the rock again, he runs back, distancing himself from the metal post.
Green eyes stare at the post, the mess of wires, symbols, and lights remains untouched. Not for long.
Winding his arm back— he swings— and throws—
—SMASH!
Sparks die out. Electricity dances its last dance .
A boy grins and for the first time in a long time, it feels real .
.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
A shrill sound cuts through the heavy atmosphere of the room A’zawa is trapped in.
Flashing light bath the room in red.
A’zawa looks towards a speaker in the ceiling with wide eyes. Three hearts leap as he’s forced to stay in place.
His captor hisses sharply—
A metal door to the side of the room draws both of their attention.
A’zawa’s captor clicks, “[Enter.]”
A small, terrified-looking guard steps into the bright room. A small white fluffy thing with two glowing antennas. “[Sir! Th-the Deathworlder—! ]”
A single purple square pupil constricts as they look up to their boss, “[—It’s escaped!]”
The boss snaps . A clicking hiss is spat out like a shout, and bright light bleeds red, flashing.
A limb is raised up—
A small fluffy body hit a wall— the sound they make is a squeak that cuts out as they slid to the metal floor.
A’zawa is still, hackles fluffed out.
“[Useless. All of em.]” The bigger Alien walks over to the door.
The scream of the overhead alarm is reduced to background noise.
A hooked limb reaches out and taps the wall— a panel slides up and an intercom is displayed.
Pushing a large blue button, the click of static responds.
The large alien speaks clear and commanding, “[Y’uul’Xs.]”
A voice distorted by radio static answers, “[Here.]”
“[Report.]”
“[The Deathworlder has escaped its enclosure. It’s disabled the electric fencing and is making its way to the far west wall, tearing through each fence and freeing other animals.]”
A click, mostly likely a curse in another language, “[Proceders?]”
A crackling hum, “[Already taking place, groups being divided by five and each individual has been armed with a Taser and Tranquilizer.]”
“[Good. Send R’za up.]”
“[Yes Sir.]”
“[Dissmissed]”
He clicks off the intercom and A’zawa keeps still and unwavering as the taller Alien scuttles closer. Black eyes rove over his wounded form, studying him.
Neither breaks the silence that settles between them.
The wide room is now visible to the I-line Thera’s four eyes. It’s bare with the exception of a wall of cabinets and strange devices.
Uncomfortable, heavy. A’zawa’s four lungs tighten and he works on taking shallow breaths. The Deathworlder is loose. The criminals have lost control of it. He’s already failed in retrieving the thing. Failed his team as soon as they’re been sent on this suicide mission.
The I-line Thera shuts his eyes.
The entrance slides open with a hiss, the alarm still ongoing noise.
Yellow eyes open.
Red lights still tint the room red. An A’qua’Syc steps into the room. The small Alien floats in place, fins waving like banners in the wind. Purple and blue scales shimmer. Translucent tentacles lift—
Ah. A’zawa watches her. Only female A’qua’Syc are able to use a mild form of telekinesis.
.
The female A’qua’Syc kneels, “[Sir.]”
“[How long are you going to disappoint me, R’za?]”
Glowing white eyes stay open, unable to blink, “[Sir?]”
The glowing, burning lines that run over his captor’s rocky exoskeleton brighten with their growing ire. “[You’ve failed to train the thing, and now it’s loose.]”
The small Alien’s colors shimmer a pale blue, “[S-sir- Ra—]”
“[Get out.]”
The hulking Alien turns back to the bound Hero.
The I-line Thera hackles rise.
“[We could use him.]”
The eight-legged Alien pauses.
R’za’s white glowing eyes land on the wounded Hero.
A’zawa meets them head-on.
Only the change of color— from blue to purple— of her scales indicated the race of emotions. Her voice held steady, “[A fully trained Hero? Part of the Team sent to retrieve a Terranian Deathworlder? ]”
She doesn’t pause, doesn’t want to make it seem like she’s waiting for her leader to understand. Of course, he does. He probably thought of it before she even uttered a word.
“[You could use him , Sir.]” She bows her head the moment she notices her boss turn to look down at her. “[Insurance, entertainment…He’ll either succeed or die.]”
The eight-legged Alien’s voice is a roll of colliding rock fall, “[And if he succeeds… ]” It’s not a question, only a peek into the way his thoughts form from intrigue.
She doesn’t move, but the weight of being under the other’s attention is crushing . His own climbing amusement burns like the heat from wild flames.
The fanged Alien turns to the Hero, and A’zawa’s spine nearly folds under the pressure in the room. Minds reach their designation. His life is a game and he’s being looked at like a new toy.
But he clings to hope. Even as his thoughts turn to something cold, he digs into this chance at life. If he lives, he’ll be able to look for his team.
A leg gestures to the chained-down I-line Thera, “[Get this fake Smuggler out there.]”
A’zawas teeth hurt from the force of his tightening jaw.
“[Yes Sir. ]”
Black eyes land on him, “[You either Live or you Die. If you live, you’ll surprise me and you want to surprise me. ]”
Bare hands grip thick metal cords, free from electricity, pull—
Metal snaps and the tight wire goes flying like broken rubber bands. The sound is warped, loud as it echoes across the expanse of forest.
The boy ignores this, already breaking through the third enclosure he’s found himself in. Unsure how long it will take to reach an end to this place.
His heart thrums, a welcome feeling that mirrors the jitteriness of nerves that build as time ticks on. Anxious, and scared, but excited as hope leads him forward.
Screeching comes from his left and he ducks the swipe of something huge and angry. He doesn’t look back as he runs, only hearing the destructive snap of tree roots that are torn from the ground.
The forest has reached each enclosure, never-ending with the exception of sparse meadows and winding rivers.
Each encloser Izuku runs through, houses another creature, he isn’t this place’s only ‘pet’.
Running past a wall of orange trees, time slows. Everything sharpens and for a moment he’s flying .
Something’s rushing towards him, suspended in motion as green eyes lock onto the movement.
He twists, diving hands first as his legs arch up and over—
Large blue wings swipe where his legs had once been. Claws, half his body size, slash at the surrounding branches.
—Izuku lands in a handstand before he rolls forward and throws himself back into running.
The screech that follows is a vicious thing. The tearing of earth before the flag of feathers has him pushing himself fast. Izuku has no time for it. Escape is almost at the tip of his tongue and he hopes it’s just as sweet.
The creature chasing him doesn’t care.
Its huge body thunders through the forest, almost clumsy— and he has to wonder if it grew up in a different environment, that the forest was as much of a cage as the surrounding fencing.
Branches and stems snap and they’re too close— Izuku dives to the left, crashing into large red flowers dripping with sticky sap. The boy grits his teeth, baring them, and snarls like a wild thing.
He gets up into a low crouch, his hands curled like claws.
The large creature comes to a stop, screaming and locking onto his form. And eyeless Alien Animal. Its beak is full of sharp teeth, similar to a crocodile's maw.
.
A vibrant sky blue runs down its body, melting into darker, iridescent, blacks. Four large wings, two on its spined back and two make up the creature’s arms. Spines become claws in place of fingers.
Its tail is serpentine, scaled, and ends in a scorpion’s hook.
The boy doesn’t wait, kicking off the ground— jumping between the narrow space between two orange trees.
He hears the creature scream as it fails to fit in the thin gap.
Wings flap and the canopy overhead shakes violently.
Izuku runs, and dives under bushes of leaves, disappearing and reappearing to hurdle over winding roots. This world is soft, softer than earth had been. So he tries his best to avoid smacking into tree trunks, not wanting to break them.
Bare feet press over dirt and other foliage, he’s dirty, and smudges of earth stain his skin and clothes.
A sharp-high pitched scream pierces the air—
The flap of gigantic wings—
Izuku leaps to the side and covers his head as he hunkers down.
The creature smacks into the metal post, and Izuku looks away as white spark bursts.
The sound is a hiss of sputtering energy— and cuts out
Izuku is slow as he turns around, eyes wide and heart beating so loudly he’s not sure if the power has actually gone out.
The creature is slumped and still and— the crowd cheers, the announcer's voice announces Izuku's victory—
Feathers move. The creature jerks awake and pushes itself away from the post and mess of exposed wires.
The boy is frozen— before relief melts his fear away.
The animal huffs and warm are washes over the small human. His hair flutters like tree leaves.
With a shake of its body, the creature turns and—
Whipping its head back over to the fence it screeches like a hissing cat— Then darts back into the forest.
The drum of his pulse quiets. His nerves are alight, but they soon calm.
A wide grin stretches his freckled face, and a laugh from the absence of fear tumbles out.
Stuck in a cluster of various paddocks, Izuku’s stuck in an even bigger cage. He’s going to have to survive if he wants to get out. But for the first time…he’s fought another creature…and it didn’t end in death.
The room is dark, the only light coming from the open tank of draining translucent green-blue slime.
A’zawa pushes himself up by his arms, claws out as he heaves another pint of sludge out onto the metal floor.
The caged muzzle around his mouth is completely covered, slime dripping from the curved wire.
Coughing and hacking, his vision wavers. Black fur holds water and he feels like a soaked towel.
At least he’s healed.
“[Take this.]”
Four yellow cat-like eyes flicker to the side and up.
A small remote control appears in front of him. No one is holding the small device. Instead, it floats in place, and a wavy glowing purple cloud keeps it from falling to the floor.
The controller is a slim rectangle. Black with a single blue button at the middle of its surface. Two small lights sit beside each other at the top left corner. One is on, emitting a red light.
A cough forces its way out of his maw and the I-line Thera spits. Slime splatters onto the floor.
Cringing, he reaches out— and grabs the remote.
A’zawa doesn’t speak, moving and standing on unsteady paws. Exhaustion makes his muscles slack and his mind heavy.
R’za, the small A’qua’Syc, stands beside the open entrance, tentacles float and drift in fits of agitated movement. Purple scales shimmer into something warmer, almost pink, almost red.
Two towering guards, Tor’zidains, stand on either side of her, watching with large metal rods, sparks flash at the tips of each.
She nods to the small remote, “[Get close enough and the light with blink bright green. You should be able to activate the Deathworlders harness into activating its shock system.]”
This is really happening. Get close enough and Taze the thing?
He’s going to die.
R’za turns, “[We’ll get you a tranquilizer gun.]”
Her words turn into something, poisonous, mocking , “[Not that you’ll be able to use it.]” Scales tint red, “[What’s it like Hero? To be killed by the thing you were supposed to retrieve?]”
He bites back a growl. There’s no use in getting angry, he needs to focus.
They enter a hallway, slim and tall. Dirt walls under bright white lights that are embedded in the ceiling.
The guards are behind him and he forces himself to walk at the smaller Alien’s pace.
Twin tails lashing about, stuck under the collar that’s tight around his neck.
Exhaustion still clings to his frame, and it’s strange to feel so tired while his mind is screaming and his hearts are racing.
“[Unlike the others, you’re on your own.]”
Of course, he is.
Dread only continues to build.
They enter a room and noise, voices, movement, the click of guns, and the buzz of electricity roll over his senses like a harsh wave.
Yellow eyes struggle to look nonchalant as he scans the room. A sea of various guards full up the large area. They’re being grouped up. Handed weapons and other equipment. Armor, like a second skin, looks heavy on their bulky, muscular, bodies.
The alarm system is quiet but a red still flashes throughout the large space.
The whirr of a camera has him looking up. Meeting its black lens as it zeros in on him.
“[Try not to die so quickly.]” Her voice is cold and uncaring.
A long gun is shoved into his chest and he grasps at it like a lifeline.
“[You aim that at any one sept’ the Deathworlder…]” The A’qua’Syc fin lifts and points at her own neck, “[...You’ll experience fifty thousand volts…and a painful death.]”
He doesn’t respond and listens as the guards behind him laugh.
They move on.
Their small group moves over to a large metal door at the back of the room. Many groups of guards stand by. A few glance at him, taking in the way guards trail him like he is a flight risk (he is). How R’za— Someone that others nod to in acknowledgment— leads him around like a pet on a leash. No one else looks to be in a similar situation to him. Trapped and forced into being cannon fodder.
He doesn’t see…
…any of his Team.
Feelings bubble.
A blossom of hope grows from his lower chest.
A’zawa hopes they were able to get away. That he is the only one trapped here. That they’re still alive .
If there's even a sliver of a chance, his team is still kicking…H’za’shii, Neh’muur’ii, 10-C-A…they’d never forgive him if he were to give up now.
“[Have a Heroic death.]”
That hope burns .
Freedom turns to chaos.
He’s running from a herd of Sabertooth-Horses galloping behind him the first time he encounters a group of frantic armored Aliens.
The spark of his harness has him tripping and flying into them.
Things snap and break— but nothing hurts and Izuku scrambles and rolls off onto the ground.
There’s yelling, again in a language he doesn’t know. But that word, that word they call him. A word that brings with it, fear and despair—
Needles like the sting of bees run through his skin— Muscles tighten and he jerks involuntarily on the forest floor.
White light blinds him— Crack .
The smell of burnt hair.
Izuku twist and he doesn’t know where— there’s a ringing in his ears and he—
The click of a gun—
Izuku tumbles to the right— more yelling— rolling on the ground as his vision clears.
The howling wail of a Sabertooth-Horse clears the panic. He’s faster, he can run. Get away.
Growling, the boy pushes himself up— yelling, more clicks— and bolts .
He pushes himself fast, practically soaring through the forest, a feat he never thought himself capable of back home. Something that shouldn’t be possible in the first place. His new normal.
A part of Izuku worries sometimes…if the weird one is himself. If he is the one that has changed, that…something was done to him .
His breathing shudders as he ducks under a low branch.
Izuku needs to get out of here. Nothing else matters until he can get free.
It takes seconds to break into the next enclosure. The metal plate is dented by a running kick.
Grabbing and yanking it away, Izuku goes the motions of destroying and ripping apart the mess of wires inside.
The fencing would be easy to pull apart, had done so at the start of his escape. The thick metal cords pull apart like tough taffy.
But Izuku chooses to go over it instead.
Izuku leaps, for a moment weightless in the strange atmosphere, and grasps the fence's metal cords.
Reaching the top he takes in the view.
The once calm of the forest has turned to disarray. Screams can be heard as gunfire goes off.
Turning around he notes that most of the commotion is coming from behind him, but it’s quickly spreading.
A pit of guilt settles in his chest. Like a stone, a weight that sits there, present, a reminder.
Death, more of them are going to die.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale—
Izuku looks ahead…and tosses himself over.
Death is heavy in the air. The sounds of panic, of struggle. Animalistic roars and screams are either left to echo in dominance or are cut out mercilessly. No one is safe, not when creatures made for fighting are let loose, their electrical fences rendered useless, allowing the beast to break free from their cages.
A’zawa’s taser is clipped to the belt around his top waist. The large tranquilizer gun feels too heavy as he forces himself to race through the surrounding forest.
The I-line Thera needs to find the Terranina while avoiding other deadly— not as dangerous, but things he shouldn’t encounter alone and without a team — creatures.
The Hero’s senses are on high alert, hunting for any sign of the Deathworlder. He’s further away from the other groups, stranded entertainment for the leader's watchful eye. Something ugly curls and grows, but he’s long since learned to tamp down those kinds of emotions. They aren’t helpful, not right now.
The moment Izuku notices how quiet it had gotten, he stops.
The leaves don’t waver, and the distant gunfire and carnage are gone.
Goosebumps run hi his arms and a chill runs down his back—
Something heavy hits his side and Izuku goes flying into a tree .
The air has left his lungs and he trembles as shallow gasps leave his shuttering lungs. A poor imitation of a fish out of water, a drowning man.
A large shadow takes up the ‘sky’ and—
Izuku’s pupils shrink.
.
The creature’s white head is smooth and round. Its forehead pulls back into a singular horn. Two pitch-black eyes look down on him. They are large, like car lights that start at the front and pull back to the side of the creature’s head. Four red pupils cluster together, expanding as they lock onto him.
The growl that rumbles from the Alien’s throat makes his bones rattles. His teeth hurt.
Saliva pools at its small mouth, and as it hits the forest floor— missing him by a hair — the sizzle of acid follows.
Fuck—!
The Hero leaps over a stream with feline grace— and the sound of nightmares silences the forest for a moment.
A cry like thunderstorms, of destruction.
Landing on shaky paws, the Hero’s claws dig into the gun.
Yellow eyes turn towards the sound and he hates this .
A’zawa takes off, running to where the roar had come from.
Blood covers the left side of his face. Three large scratch marks have slashed across—but not through— the front of his suit.
The boy is hunkered down behind a tree, a hand over his mouth as he tries to control his own breathing.
He blinks, trying to clear the blood from his left eye. But it only brings about tears that burn with sault.
Holding his breath, he moves ever so slowly, and uses the back of his hand as a napkin, rubbing away the red.
Snap.
The boy twists as acid splatters over his hiding spot.
Izuku leaps backward and watches as the creature materializes from its camouflage.
The blood leaves his face.
The creature had been hanging on the tree right above him.
Adrenaline already shoots through his veins, but the feeling feels more so, the racing of his heart is almost painful. Pounding within his ribcage.
Then, it faces him again—
Strange red pupil threatens to paralyze—
He’s breathing like every breath is his last.
Earlier hope…turns into something desperate.
Another fight to the Death.
Me…or him.
The stone of guilt grew in size.
Acid drips down like rain —
—I love you, Izuku…!
He has to live.
A’zawa sees the trees that fall ahead of him, the sound as they drop, like thunder, branches break. Leaves disperse like clouds of dust.
The gun in his hands feels like a piece of junk. A butter knife in a sword fight.
His twin tails lash about, stuck under his collar.
The Hero slows, slinking through the underbrush as he draws closer. Silent as—
Both his body and his hearts’ as two bodies crash onto his path.
The I-line Thera’s lower body claw and dig into orange bark, spilling red sap and keeping him safe from the fight below.
Round ears flatten as he presses close to the trunk. Holding back a reactive hiss.
The two Deathworlders tear through the forest, plant life crushed— like he would’ve been if he was a second too slow — or ripped out of the forest's floor.
A’zawa looks over the Terranian— and his pupils tuns to slits at the sight of its red blood.
Wounded! It’s—!
Then he looks over to the other Deathworlder—
The fur on his double spine stands up, and his grip on the tree tightens.
—and it makes sense.
The large predatory Alien, its familiar body shape— bipedal with strong legs, long muscular arms, and no tail.
It spits and acid pools and eats away a fallen tree.
A Life Eater, a Sol’Sume. Level: 10 Deathworlder.
The Hero bares his teeth, but it’s a pale imitation of the two attacking Deathworlders.
He just— he needs to— Frustrations grow like thorny vines. How can he capture the Deathworlder if—?!
The Terranian’s palms are on the ground and its legs kick out — The Sol’Sume is kicked and—
A’zawa throws himself—
The large Life Eater collides with his tree—
The hero acts on instinct and he uses the tree next to his to slow his descent. Claws dig in as he slides down to the ground below.
The Sol’Sume is already up, roaring and rushing right at the Terranian—
Its muscular arm whips out— and the smaller Deathworlder is swatted away like an annoying pest.
A’zawa’s not even sure he’s breathing. Watching as the Terranian’s body disappears into the forest. The sound of breaking branches fades with it.
The gun is a useless weight in his paws, but still, he lifts it and points ht barrow right at the heavily breathing Sol’Sume.
His canines grind together and all four of his legs feel like they’ve been turned to jelly. The beating of his three hearts is a rhythm of despair.
With an Inhale , A’zawa hardens them, pushing the fear away. He’s a Hero. He—
The Deathworlder looks in his direction.
— Shoots.
The dart bounces off the creature's armored skin and his life feels forfeit.
He blinks and it’s right in front of him. Large, bigger than the room he was kept in. Red pupils in a sea of black feel like crosshairs.
The Hero drops— agility on his side— and—
A clawed hand grips him by the scruff— caught by a muscular arm and three deadly claws.
He doesn’t even have time to regret his life choices. Mind blanking before one thought fills the empty space.
He’s going to die — The Sol’Sume throws him.
Claws rake across bark— and he hangs onto the giant tree for dear life.
His gun is gone.
The roar from his own throat is a threat he cannot make. Empty as he snarls from his spot up the tree.
The creature below is angry and faces him again with a roar—
—The Terranina slams into it, a bullet that speeds out of the forest.
The force sends the other to the ground and the battle continues.
Limbs and bodies move with ferocity. Acid and blood go flying, a mess of red and violet. Splattering over the scenery.
His gun is gone.
The two suddenly pull apart, stopping and staring each other down. A’zawa studies them, his one body wound up as he’s stuck up a tree with no gun.
The Terraning is covered in claw marks. Slices on their suit have very nearly torn the thing off. Some cuts have made it through the fabric of his pants, blood spilling from fresh wounds.
The creature is breathing and its bright bright green eyes look nearly toxic. Something burns within them. Determination? The call of violence? The thing looks completely feral, its hair a mess, and bloody teeth bare. For a fleeting moment A’zawa thinks back to R’za— Training that thing…it’s not possible.
Something snaps .
Both Deathworlders meet head-on.
It’s like the floor quakes with their combined might. Two beings made to survive Deathworlds . Now at each other’s throats—
The Sol’Sume is punched — They slide into one of the surrounding trees at the far edge of the clearing.
A’zawa feels like he watching a battle between titans as the tree goes down with a screaming crackle. A’zawa is invisible to the two Deathworlders locked in battle.
The Life Eater gets on its belly and spits a ball of acid.
The Terranian leaps back, chest expanding— The sound it makes is one that has A’zawa paralyzed in place.
It’s— The cry of a Ke’v’Pine, a Scaled-Monster-Bird!
The Sol’Sume’s eyes dilate and physically cringes back — The Terranian dive at it—!
A squelch mixed with the snapping of bone.
The creature's armored belly crumbles like rock under the terranian clawless hands.
It’s quick.
It’s quiet.
It’s over.
A’zawa is frozen in place.
The Terranian stands, and the creature’s back faces the Hero as it looms over the dead Sol’Sume.
Its—! It’s—
Distracted.
His body thaws. Yellow eyes scan the forest floor, the edges of the clears for his— Gun!
His lungs deflate as the tension lifts. Like his luck as shined down upon him. His gun is right below his tree.
A’zawa doesn’t slide this time, instead he slowly, painstakingly climbs his way down. Relying on his body's natural stalking abilities as he gets closer to the tranquilizer.
When he drops his paws barely make a sound.
A’zawa takes a step towards the gun— It’s not broken!
Snap .
The noise has Izuku locked right on A’zawa. The creature’s eyes are piercing as its face is covered in violet and red blood .
This time he reacts first.
A’zawa’s fur stands on end and he falls into a fighting stance— Pupils turn to slits, and a hiss falls from his mouth in an effort to look like the chains of heavy, instinctual, terror aren’t weighing him down.
The Terranian hisses back—
.
And oh yeah mimicry, as if he isn’t living an actual nightmare already—
Teeth bare, bloody— they crouch low to the ground.
Ready to lunge.
Shit. The warmth from A’zawa’s body vanishes— Replaced by icy fear. His mind is a livewire. I’m dead, I’m going to die.
Eyes flash to the dead Sol’Sume. Slain and discarded like an uninteresting chew toy.
The Arena fight.
The Deathworlder’s opponent: killed and still.
The crowd cheered. The announcer sang its victory. The Deathworlder—
A’zawa swallows past building saliva, his mind stumbling over rapidly connecting thoughts
The Deathworlder—
Yellow eyes shine while terror shadows his face.
—had lost interest.
It’s a gamble. It’s insane. It shouldn’t work.
But he needs to—
Play dead.
A’zawa drops to the ground, pressing his chest to the jungle floor— Limp. Lifeless. I’m not interesting— and shuts his eyes.
Nothing happens. The only sound comes from his three hearts racing. His body shakes as nausea-induced terror replaces the blood that drains from his face.
The crunch of dry foliage.
Dead, I’m dead. I’m—
Closer, footsteps draw closer. Leave crackle and twigs snap. He can hear the creature's quick breathing.
A sound. A short huff of noise.
A’zawa holds his breath.
“...”
Crunch.
Claws dig into the ground and—
Eyes squeeze tight.
—The Deathworlder runs past A’zawa.
Four yellow cat eyes open and constrict into slits. A’zawa is left lying in place, ears flat and hackles raised.
He’s breathing.
He’s still alive and he breathing—
The Hero scrambles, a paw going to the remote still clipped to his belt—
—Click.
A sharp gasp sounds from the creature—Branches break and plants snap— A body it’s the ground.
A’zawa swipes up the gun— and turns around—
The creature is locked up in electric pain.
Their eyes are halfway open, a snarl on it’s lips—
Bu-dump, Bu-dump, Budump—
No matter what, he reasons. The Deathworlder’s going to kill others, whether it’s trapped or not, as soon as other heroes are sent to this place…
Green eyes look back at him, and he only sees—
This chance, if he can live…
He can’t give up —
—A’zawa aims…
…
…and shoots.
The tranquilizer either isn’t working…or it’s slow-active. The Deathworlder took the shot, and— As soon as the shocks receded— they sped off, deep into the wood.
The I-line Thera stares down at the radio he was given. Mind a mess, jumping through plan after plan, each one ending in his death. This is his chance….but was it enough ? A’zawaneeded to surprise their Leader. And not knowing if he succeeded is eating away at him.
And how long? How long until they decided to kill him? Before he ends up in the Arena as entertainment?
Heavy footfall.
A’zawa watches as a group of Guards rush out of the wood.
The one in front, a rock-like being called a Dulidhin is the obvious leader; Wide and ungraceful in his approach, “[Cameras’s caught the sight of you two.]”
Fiery orange eyes with three pupils look at him in disbelief before they move to the side, into the wilderness, “[Did you manage a hit?]”
He needs this chance.
Would they shoot the Terranian again if he didn’t? Would that kill it? If it’s dead they can’t use it. If it’s dead it can’t kill —
Green eyes look back at him, and he only saw— It was terrified .
—“[Yes.]”
The word is out before he fully realizes he even spoke at all.
The group seems just as surprised.
A’zawa clears his throat, “[Yes, I managed to shoot it with the Tranquilizer.]”
“[...]” The Dulidhin Leader stares a little longer, before he looks back to this group, “[Okay! Everyone, we should find the Deathworlder ahead! Just need to bring it back to the Cells!]”
“[Yes, Sir!]” They all shout back.
A’zawa winces at the noise and watches as the group rushes past him, back into the forest.
Their leader is watching this through security cameras, and the rest of the commanders have gathered in the dark room, watching the scene.
Y’uul’Xs cold voice trails out with whisps of white, “[The Hero has just encountered the Deathworlder before it took off south of the Wilds. He managed to shoot it.]”
The screen locks onto the I-line Thera.
The eight-legged Alien leans back in his rocky chair, “[The fake Smuggler.]”
He didn’t die, is thought of by everyone, but no one says it out loud.
Their leader leans back, eight-legs cracking, “[Keep track and pull up the encounter.]”
They rewatch A’zawa’s encounter. Some tense as the two beings stare at each other.
It had surprised everyone, how the hero had thrown himself down to the ground, lying there, vulnerable.
Breathes were held. Their leader leaned forward. Anticipation in the air.
The Deathworlder has stilled. Head cocked to the side as its eyes stared down the Hero.
Eraserhead looks truly pitiful. Helpless prey in front of a predator.
The scene ends…how they first saw it. As the creature darted past and away. A’zawa managed to Taze and then tranquilize the thing.
R’za watches as her Leaders' fangs shine and drip, “[Our fake smuggler might prove to be something more useful than simple entertainment. ]”
Chapter 7: (Not a) Monster
Summary:
Izuku is :(
A'zawa is F E A R
Introducing a Doctor :)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter Seven- (Not a) Monster
Earth - One year before the abduction.
Izuku (age 13)
June 13th 22xx
---
It’s raining…Orange streetlights dance past rolled-up car windows. The interior is warm, sealed off from the cold night. The cup of half-melted Ice Cream slowly turns into a sweet soup in its pastel paper bowl.
Green eyes light up with bright enthusiasm as Izuku gushes about the upcoming Galaxy Wars movie.
His mother’s laughter sounds like the trickle of ringing bells, kind and encouraging.
This small car turns off the freeway. The road is desolate as people settle down for the night. On the right side of the road is a Canal, the calm water below is inky black at night. Rlects of orange light from the overhead streetlights color the dark surface.
Izuku finishes his ramble and he glances over to see a fond expression on his mom’s face.
Green eyes that mirror his own look back softly, and she smiles, “I love you.”
Warmth blossoms and the stress of school that week fades. Izuku grins back, “I love you too, Mom!”
His plastic spoon scraps against the bottom of the paper bowl and he finishes off the treat.
Inko’s stressed, and work hard as always, but now? She’s with her son and those feeling melt into something light and colorful. The world around them had felt cold, greyscale… Now it’s grown in warmth and color. The small space in the car is a place away from hard times—
His world jerks to the left—
The screech of tires tears threw the serenity—
A seat belt digs into his hip and chest —
Someone screams— They’re both yelling—
Sound is secondary to the ringing that fills his ears—
Cold soaks into his shoes, climbing up, up, up—A gasp escapes him— Water fills their car.
— He didn’t even hear the splash when they crashed —
“Mo—M—!”
—White light engulfs the sinking vehicle. Izuku shuts his eyes as he’s blinded by the illumination and deafened by ice cold water and heavy rain.
Water rises over his head as they s i n k—
.
..
…
Lungs burn .
He’s throwing up freezing liquid.
Hands grip grass like it’s a lifeline.
The sound of heavy rain rattles against his skull.
Warm tears stream down his pale face.
A boy shutters and hacks as he lay upon cut grass like a wrung-out dish rag.
His hair sticks to the side of his face, soaked to the root.
Blinking red-rimmed eyes…Izuku looks up at the stars, alone.
Cell - Present day
Izuku (age 15)
September 13th 22xx
---
Izuku falls into consciousness with the grace of an avalanche, sudden, violent, destructive, and terrifying. He jerks up and leaves a flutter around him with his harsh movement; Breaking free from his dream— memory— free and awake. But the pain of the experience still sticks. It’s stuck since that day and it’s stained his mind like a crude scar.
Izuku’s hands shake with the need to destroy something, to r ip-tear-shatter-crush- into pieces. To feel his nails cut and claw—
His throat is thick with shards of glass and he hutches inward— S mall, small, contain the pain and make it small.
Lungs inflate and the usual balm does nothing to soothe his scattered thoughts.
His hands move to his face and he grips the sides of his muzzle, hard metal digs into the underside of his fingers.
He takes in another shuttering breath. Hot moist airbrushes back against his face.
Shallow, too shallow.
Inhale, exhale, Inhale, exhale—
InhaleEXHALE—
He coughs, grasping- yanking his muzzle and unable to make more room —
INHALE-EXHALE— wheezing, gasping —
Hot tears flood his face, matching his hot breath—
A sharp sound comes from his collar— BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—!
“[Everyone who works for me will know what you are, Hero, so that is what you will be called.]”
The buzz of the sleek machine follows the smell of burnt skin and fur. A mark— Branding— is drawn on bare skin. Coding, like a serial number, is forced onto him. A label that presents his status as a Prisoner of this place.
.
“[Hero Eraserhead…an Alias . A fake Smuggler name with fake smuggler friends.]”
Chittering laughter.
“[Live, and you may see them again.]”
A’zawa grits his teeth as the machine completes the design. Round ears lay flat as he keeps his gaze low and compliant.
“[Up.]”
He obeys, and the mark on his arm stings as he removes it from the small metal table.
The bright lights above turn off as the rest of the room comes to life. It’s a wide room. Instruments and other machines hang or lean against concrete walls. The floors if dipped towards the center where things back be washed down a drain.
A’zawa towers over the A’qua’Syc. The small alien moves back as he stands and moves away from the lingering smell of burnt fur.
Scales shimmer blue and a translucent fin waves to the jagged white marks over the brand. “[Three strikes, that’s all you’ll get. With each rule break one will turn black]”
He can’t help but eye the other’s own mark. It sits on the left side of her body where her left side fin connects. Her brand is colored gold, and one of the jagged claw marks is already filled in.
From his understanding, his mark, the bars show his status as a Prisoner and not another Guard or other worker. Though he’ll have to keep an eye out to see what those marks look like. R'za’s own had shown the symbol of this planet, giving her a higher ranking. As to what or how high she places on this system, he doesn’t know.
.
Glowing white eyes look over to the screen that takes up the far wall, “[I don’t need to explain what happened when all three are filled in.]”
A’zawa waves one of the ends of his tail in understanding.
R'za makes a slight bubble noise, dismissing him, “[One Cyon (One Week) , Hero .]”
He doesn’t want to show incompetence or hesitation in following the other’s orders. He’s going to survive being in this place.
So he leaves the room without a second thought.
The hallways are bright but they only revealed the worn and dirty stone walls. It makes sense, they were carved underground. Winding tunnels dug deep beneath the surface of this Dead World.
Rules and instructions replay. Memorized.
-
Obey Direct Orders.
-
Must be in one’s assigned room before [Breakfast] and after [Dinner]. A repeat offense will turn into a full strike decided by your Commander/Keeper.
-
Bathing with warm water only last 15 C’zon [15 Minutes]. Going over that time will cost you punishment time as a lower offense.
-
Unnecessary fighting with be decided by your Commander/Keeper and could turn into a full Strike.
-
Special Instruction: After meeting with R'za, meet up with the Docter for further discussion on the Deathworlder.
Sir ??? had let him leave with R'za after their first talk as Leader and Prisoner. Not before stopping the Hero at the exit, voice crackling through the translator, “[I expect results.]”
A’zawa held still then, hunched over in submission, “[And you’ll get them, Sir.]”
The walk was quiet besides the occasional buzz of cameras that watch his journey to the Doctor’s office.
The hallways are large enough that the few workers and guards he does encounter as able to walk by him without any awkward shuffle.
He keeps his gaze low, his mark is fresh and able to be seen by any passerby.
Soon stone hallways were replaced with something more sterile. Metal that reflects the bright lights overhead. The smell of chemicals familiar and clean wafts through the air, before being swept away by the freezing air vents in the walls low to the ground.
Twin glass doors signal the entrance to the medical. A large circle with twin rings crossing each other symbolizes the intergalactic sign for Healing.
.
On the other side of the doors, a large cylindrical room stretched far with hospital cots lining both the left and right side walls.
Machines and other status devices connected to various screens and other equipment. Some had foggy glass walls that hid beds occupants from the rest of the room. The constant blink and beep of lights displayed information that meant little to the Hero.
On the other side of the room, A’zawa can make out another pair of doors. This time, the doors are heavy from being metal. Shiny grey and white plating is trimmed with a sea glass blue. Text is written on the doors, but from this far he can’t pick it up on the translator, nor does he have a tablet. Still, he has an idea of where the room leads to.
The floor is made of metal plating, shiny with a subtle bumpy pattern that provided some grip.
With a raised paw, A’zawa’s brand is caught by the door sensors, and the glass slides open like the hungry jaws of a beast.
The swish lets out a burst of cold air that ruffles his fur.
Even though he was commanded to come here, being able to walk on his own provides a false freedom that has him relaxing. Independence, even fake, is a relief he hadn’t expected since his capture. A relief that leaves him as soon as he steps through the entrance.
“[Ah, Hero.]”
The I-line Thera pauses, head jerking up and to the right as a camera buzzes to life and locks onto his form. The lens spins as the small divide lifts and circles him. Flying about with curiosity.
A voice, though slightly muffled by the small speaker before the spinning lens, speaks to him, “[I’ve been expecting you.]”
A’zawa flickers an ear, “[Sorry for keeping you wait—]”
A wet burble cuts him off, “[—Don’t say things you don’t mean.]”
He holds his tongue. Dread fights with spiking surprise.
Happily, the Docter continues on, “[Come through the back and take a left. I’m in my office.]”
A’zawa flicks his tails’ in confirmation, “[Alright.]”
And oh, his hackles want to rise as the camera locks onto his tails’ movement, the Docter’s voice turning into something cold, “[ Fasinating. ]”
A’zawa moves swiftly, though a part of him begs to slow down. To give him a second more to settle his thoughts. Too bad years of being a Hero have killed any hesitation he would’ve indulged as a student in training. In times of instinct and learned habits Anxiety could kill .
He reaches the end of the room and is through the doors with the confidence of someone who has a million times. The Doctor’s office is closed and just before he can make himself known a voice calls out to him, “[Come in.]”
It slides and closes as quickly as he enters.
The office is filled with screens and bookshelves. Stacks of ‘Things’ fill them. From glass jars of various items— hearts, plants, growing things — to vials and other containers— blood, chemicals, hair(?). Drawers are closed with numb pads.
A yellow line splits the room into sections, from the shelves to the various screens that take up the Wall the Entrance is a part of. A large desk area is to the far left, facing him. It’s sleek and inky black. Blue holograms— screens — float as they’re being written on by a tall Alien.
Warm-blooded, with no eyes, and large pointed ears. Their brain can be seen through their translucent skull. White fur grows around the Doctor’s neck and down their chest. Two very thin layers of skin stretch across the arm and long boney fingers, making up their wings.
They’re extremely tall. Reaching the ceiling with ease.
Pointed ears twitch and the Bl’vat turns towards him.
A Bl’vat.
.
A Species A’zawa had never officially encountered in his years of being a Hero. Rare in their own right as the hermit race lives solely to gather knowledge. Little interest in keeping social relations they are known to have very grey almost black morals as their goals keep them going in life with little regard for how others think.
They’re not evil, some even work for the ISC and they even have members in the Federation.
But to find one here…
Their mouth is a hole with blood-red tentacles that twist and curl with their speech, “[So it’s true. ]”
Four yellow eyes blink as A’zawa forces himself to move further into the room. This is normal, just say- “[Hello.]”
The Bl’vat stands to his full height, eyeless, its squirming tentacle mouth curls in delight, “[You are an I-line. An I-line Thera too!]”
Uh. “[I am.]” He speaks softly, “[And you’re the Docter.]”
“[No, no. Call me…]” The other moves around his desk, and the white vest they wear displays a name tag that they tap. The words are written in some other language, but the translator picks it up just as the Doctor speaks it aloud, “[...Luxsin.]”
A’zawa blinks before giving a slight bow of his head, going through the motions as he tries to remain polite, “[May the cosmos—]”
A hand smacks against the desk surface and A’zawa jolts in place, “[No.]” A long boney hand lifts and presses against the other’s neck. A sharp beep signaled the shutdown of the Doctor’s Translator; Allowing them to hear A’zawa’s language in its entirety. “[Give me a Traditional I-line greeting.]”
That’s- okay .
He could say anything and the other wouldn’t understand—
“[—Ah-ha, no.]” Luxsin taps one of the floating holo screens and brings it close, “[Let’s not play games, Hero . I’ll still be able to read what you say.]”
A’zawa swallows before he looks up and blinks slowly, the action feels unnatural and unfamiliar. His tails unfurl and raise high behind him in a display of open kindness. Friendly.
How long has it been?
The words that flow from his mouth are a greeting that comes out weird when translated. But they flow easily as he speaks, with more meaning than a simple ‘Nice to meet you.’
“Yewl Ur’Drn Veh’low Dra’Tch.” “[May the Day embrace us.]”
Laughter similar to the squeak of soap on glass had him pressing his ears back. Luxsin drew closer, movements sharp as the Doctor seemed to delight at the ‘Traditional Greeting.’ “[I’ve heard the language in records- but to hear a phrase instead of a translation- Amazing! ]”
Luxsin steps closer, towering over the I-line Thera, “[It truly is a miracle your language is still in use.]”
A’zawa stiffens words and thoughts piling and meshing together. He lowers his tails and winds them back around his neck, “Dra E’Grro On’tE’k Dra’Tch Yt‘brr Burr’annd Nya E’k ‘Ah D’oom’ay Line’et…?” “[I was told we were going to talk about the Deathworlder…?]” …and not me or my species.
The looing Bl’vat pauses. Eyeless face cocked to the side as if they had forgotten A’zawa was there for some other purpose and a curious intrigue.
“[That’s right, I still haven’t turned on my Translator.]” A nauseating laugh fills the room as they press the On button nestled against their thin neck. “[There. Now what did you say, little Hero?]”
Whiskers twitch in annoyance before A’zawa responds, “[You have some information on the Terranian Deathwolder…?]” It’s not meant to be a Question. Still, the Doctor is already turning away and moving to one of the larger holo screens behind his desk.
“[It truly is an interesting situation...A Hero is going to help us Train a Deathwolder. ]” Pointed finger swipe over the blue text, clicking something off to the side— some kind of menu?— before pulling up an obvious file on the Terranian Deathwolder. “[Your life hangs in the balance of whether you succeed or not. But I would like to see results… ]”
Me too.
Luxsin raises a wing and motions for the I-line Thera to step closer, before grabbing the screen and ‘throwing’ it to the largest screen on the wall beside the entrance.
An image of the creature is displayed on the screen. It’s looking at the camera, green eyes locked on like a hunter eyeing prey.
A’zawa feels a chill run down his spine.
Luxsin scrolls down and thumbnails pop up. “[Since it’s you’re job of training the Deathworlder,]” He clicks on one, “[You should know of what hasn’t worked. ]”
Videos play on the large screen. “[As you can see, R’za had failed in any attempts to train the thing.]”
R’za is shown using a remote that activates the Terranian’s shock collar.
The creature makes a choked sound—
A sharp gasp sounds from the creature—Branches break and plants snap— A body on the ground.
—The Hero feels a nauseous sick feeling wash over him and he shallows down the emotion.
Then, the Deathworlder got up, muscles tight and twitching. Pain. Meant nothing if all it did was anger the creature.
Pupils turn to slits as they stare that the Terranian fist ‘nearly penetrating the window’. His words come out breathless and A’zawa himself isn’t sure if it’s horror or awe he’s feeling, “[That’s Gl’A’diant Crystal.]”
Luxsin merely burbles, “[Yes.]” He reaches up and moves to play another video.
A’zawa feels his highest heart drop. This time, the scene they’re shown is a guard, one under R’za’s command, walking into the Deathwolder’s cell. The I-line Thera wonders if he’s going to see some gruesome death and it’s a cold dread that runs through blue veins.
The reptilian Alien, an Iziliamber, holds a chunk of Gresh in its claws. the vibrant blood drips onto the metal floor. A’zawa feels a hiss build but forces himself to not act. This whole situation is just asking for the poor guard to be mauled. Tempting a Deathwolder with fresh meat—
A low, guttural, growl has both the Doctor and the Hero reacting. The I-line Thera feels the hackles on their spine spike up…when he chances a glance at Luxsin, the Docor’s ears are forward and A’zawa feels the other’s complete captive interest. It does nothing but the rolling unease that continues to build within the Hero.
When the Iziliamber steps back A’zawa wants to shout, ‘Stay still!’ Acting like prey would only cement himself is just that!
But before the Terranian can attack— The Guard speaks, “[Deathwolder.]”
The creature just stares at the guard, and A’zawa’s hearts drum as one.
“[Deathwolder! Rise!]”
Silence is the creature's only response. Toxic green eyes stare blankly, uncomprehending.
The panic is plain on the guard's face as they avoid making eye contact with the predator. A’zawa thinks about his future, he’ll be forced to confront the Deathwolder. How will he go about things?
The guard's long spiked tail lashes about, “[Terranian.]”
Oh!
“[You’ve noticed.]”
A’zawa turns to the looming Doctor. Luxsin hasn’t ‘looked’ away from the large screen. The Hero flickers an ear, “[It knows that word.]”
Dark tentacles writhe about, “[Probably from it’s time during its abduction.]”
“[I- it’s been known that they’re intellegent. Before first contact they had landed on their moon.]“
Luxsin makes an unpleasant, wet, huffing noise, “[Even a pet will learn its name.]” They wave a bony hand and A’zawa has to lean to the side to avoid being whacked by the Bl’vat’s green wings, “[But we’ll discuss that later.]”
A’zawa looks back at the screen.
“[Terranian, Rise!]”
They watch as the Terranina finally moves. Leaning forward with their eyes narrowing. A striking position!
Once again the Hero is hit with helplessness. Is he going to be forced to watch—?
“[Rise!]”
The Deathwolder barks . A deep dull sound. Alarms scream in the I-line Thera's head as he’s the one trapped in that cell.
The Iziliamber isn’t doing much better. Physically recoiling— continuing to act like scared prey.
Then, R’za calls out to them, “[Stars command you!]”
It works. The guard composes themselves and faces the Deathworlder again.
Questions ache to be asked, but he doubts the Doctor will entertain the Hero’s curiosity. He’s still nothing but a prisoner here. Only meant to follow orders, and listen.
But he won't shove the thought away completely, maybe another time.
“[Terranian.]”
A’zawa feels his tails’ sway against his chest as he watches.
“[Rise!]”
A growl, this time, a rumbling gurgle, comes from the Terranian Deathworlder.
The guard freezes, still holding out the purple meat.
Then, is a display that can only be threatening, the creature displays its teeth widely. Shit.
The Iziliamber shuffles back, “[Deathwolder, R-rise!]”
The Terranian’s form shifts .
A’zawa feels his core turn to ice.
There’s a dull commotion from where R’za stands on the other side of the glass, but both the Doctor and the Hero stay watching the Deathworlder.
‘Run!’
They try— the Deathworlder lunges after them— A’zawa is hit with the memory of watching some nature documentary during Hero training for when they’ll travel to more dangerous worlds. The cycle of life. Natural animals simply survive. Unintelligent in that they’re simply doing what they know.
But the Terranians were smarter . Maybe not space-faring, maybe not as advanced as other ‘intelligent’ species. But they know what they are doing. Intelligent, but deadly, cruel—
The Deathworlder collides with the poor Guard and the two of them tumble and roll across the metal floor—
A’zawa tastes blood and he blinks. He… bit his tongue.
A snorting snicker comes from the Doctor beside him, probably smelling his blue blood. Luxsin’s voice is light, but dismissive,“[I’ll get you something for that, but first, watch.]”
A’zawa doesn’t want to. He’s seen a lot of terrible things in his time from being a Hero. The cosmos is cruel. Full of darkness as deep as the black holes that take up space. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel.
He swallows, cringing at the taste of sweet blood, and looks to see the large Deathworlder on top and pinning the guard down with ease. He tries not to think of himself being just as powerless.
The hunk of meat is between them, and purple paints the Iziliamber in a tantalizing sauce. The guard is screaming a sharp hissing noise and A’zawa’s ear press against his skull.
The Deathworlder doesn’t pause in their actions— bending down with their mouth opening — Canines showing , glistening —
“[Please! I’m not—!]”
Squelch.
The Hero’s own eyes strain with how he hasn’t blinked, all four eyes stuck on the Deathworlder as they pull back… purple meat held in its jaws.
“[Familiar isn’t it?]”
“[…What?]”
“[The Deathworlder is playing with its prey. We’ve seen such behavior from the Arena enough times.]”
And Luxsin is right. A’zawa had noticed the way the Deathworlder was a creature that went after more lively targets. Being unable to put up a fight must be incredibly boring for the violent thing. Terra must be full of more dangerous prey. Still… “[Why disregard available…prey?]”
Luxsin speaks again and A’zawa stiffens when he finds he had asked that aloud. The flash of fear fizzles out when Luxsin simply answers back without much thought, “[Now that the Guard is down and helpless the creature’s lost interest. Why struggle to tear through armor when familiar fresh food is there for the taking?]”
They watch as the Terranian makes a strange barking noise, the sound strong enough to jolt the two beings.
In a bust of blinding speed—the Deathworlder is on the other side of the room. Consuming their chunk of meat in a gory mess.
The video finally fades.
The Doctor commentates and A’zawa listens, “[The guard was able to escape and R’za proved once again how much of a failer she is to our Leader.]”
Luxsin scrolls back up and his voice is analytics with a tinge of bitterness, “[Pain, food, they don’t work. Or at least, not with the way R’za has been going about it.]” He moves over to the tabs at the top.
Luxsin’s voice is a welcome distraction, “[You’ve already experienced our way of medical treatment.]”
Yellow eyes narrow, “[Xux’s cells.]”
Luxsin’s face barely moves beside the bundle of tentacles that hang from the Doctor’s mouth. But the way they curl he has the feeling the other is amused, “[I imagen the ISC is familiar with the way Xux’s operate. A Species rare in quantity, but more than make for it with their healing quality.]”
And A’zawa has heard of them, been submerged in them. But only the top hospitals, usually those located in the most populated cities on Risnlatra, have the funding and most skilled Doctors that are able to maintain them.
A pause.
“[If you have the medical knowledge to maintain the delicate cells.]”
Luxsin scrolls down the screen to some… schedule?
.
.
“[After every fight we submerge our Deathworlder in a Medical Tank filled to the brim with Xux’s cells that have been collected and maintained for optimal use.]” They speak clearly and analytically. “[We’ll usually leave the Terraninan in there up to a couple R’uud’n [Hour] max. With my skill, the Terranian is well-rested and healed. We can’t lose our prized Champion to something as minor as after-battle injuries.]”
Luxsin walks away from the screen and his hooves tap against the shiny white floor. His transparent head nearly reaches the ceiling and A’zawa has to step back as the tall Bl’vat moves passed him. His floating green brain bobs from within his balloon-like head.
“[Come, Hero.]”
A’zawa follows behind though he remains cautious as they leave the Doctor’s office and turn away from the door he had entered earlier. Instead turning left to move deeper into the medical wing.
The Doctor’s tall body takes up two-thirds of the hallways, leaving just enough room for anyone else to walk on by. But the further they go without meeting anyone else, the Hero doubts they’ll be seeing anyone else. It’s so quiet, even the constant beeping and whirr of cameras fade away.
They pass other doors, text pops out that his translator reads off. But even that becomes background noise as they…finally reach the end of the long hallway.
Luxsin stops and A’zawa waits behind the other, “[It seems like introductions are in order.]”
Four yellow eyes narrow and brush over the tall Doctor.
Luxsin steps forward and the large double doors in front of them slide up, “[You see, we had a bit of trouble this morning, but nothing we could not handle.]”
A’zawa can’t help but give an inquiring murr.
The action is ignored by the tall alien, he just steps forward…and parts of the dark room light up in red— Specifically the large set of tanks that take up a majority of the wide space.
Bu-dump.
A’zawa feels his lower body's paws extend their claws. Curved nails dig into the spotless floor before they retract.
His chest feels tight, but it’s a strange mix of wonder and fear. The feeling loops around his innards like an organic binding and he isn’t sure if it’s reassuring or too tight.
Because there, in the middle tank, floats the Terranian Deathworlder.
.
It's huge and is— as A’zawa remembers from the encounter in the Wilds— a head taller than he is.
They had been terrifying then, as they are now. And isn’t that strange? Or maybe it’s normal? To face a creature that could easily kill him ten times over and—even if it’s contained and unconscious— be frozen with their mind screaming to get out and run, get away before it wakes up—!
“[Hm, you’re not the only one whose reacted such a way, Hero.]” Yet Luxsin manages to sound disappointed, “[Though I hope you can show me some of that Hero Bravoury soon.]”
A’zawa swallows and looks down, away from the sleeping Deathworlder. “[I thought it would be healed by now? Was yesterday—?]”
“[—Oh, no no no,]” Luxsin laughs, bubbly and wet, “[This is from this morning, remember?]”
Luxsin walks further into the room, with A’zawa trailing behind.
The double doors slide down behind him and his instincts are on high alert.
As they draw closer to the Terranian, A’zawa can make out more features. Their messy green hair comes in patches of light and dark colors. He notes that the hair that's closer to the root is darker, almost black.
The creature is pale, but dark speckles are splattered bout, particularly on the creature’s face under their closed eyes.
Those eyes… he still remembers being pinned under those green eyes. Unlike H’za’shii's, which gave off a joyful ecstatic feeling, the Deathwolder’s felt deeper, darker, engulfing— a warning.
A’zawa shutters.
“[There are a few things that I haven’t told you. Something that…. Sir wouldn’t want a Hero to know.]”
A’zawa looks up, four eyes looking up at the tall Alien. A blossom of trepidation blooms as a part of him doesn’t want to know. “[Then why tell me at all?]”
Luxsin leans back on his two hooved feet, wings pulling back, relaxed, “[Because we need results.]” Their voice lowers, “[And if you die, we might not get them at all.]”
The I-line Thera steps back, an unspoken question between them.
Luxsin cocks their head to the side, “[We’re running out of time, Hero. I can tell you the whys, but I can’t tell you when. ]”
Luxsin steps closer, and A’zawa moves back again—
Thud.
His back paw presses against glass.
Luxsin stops in front of him, his words coming out as a whisper, one hand having moved to his neck and turning down the translator's volume. “[We’ve been around for a while, Hero. This isn’t the first Deathworlder that our Leader has had trained.]”
A’zawa stays tense, a spring ready to be sprung as the Doctor talks, “[But we both know this Terranian isn’t a normal beast. They’re both similar…and something more. By the stars this isn’t the first time a warmongering, violent species has been encountered.]”
A pause, before his words drip with sadistic amusement, “[As an I-line you should know that. After Fall’ine— ]”
— Heat, a flash of F E A R H A T E—
“[—Get on with it.]“ A’zawa snarls.
More laughter from the Doctor, “[Hahaha, Alight.]”
Luxsin steps back, “[Anyway, we’ve dealt with similar creatures before…We know how to go about things.]”
A’zawa notices that Luxsin isn’t even looking down at him anymore; But past him at the Deathworlder.
“[We break them. Make them realize that they have no other choice but to obey . However, we’ve come to an impasse.]”
Luxsin raises a boney hand and—
Thunk.
—Presses it over the I-line Thera, against the Terranian’s Tank.
A’zawa uses this moment to slink under the other’s large green wing. The Hero trots to the side. Not running away— would be foolish— but turning back to watch as Luxsin stares at the submerged Deathworlder.
“[As the creature's body undergoes extreme stress, physical exertion, and injury…with each healing…]”
A foreboding feeling drapes over the binding around A’zawa’s lungs. His breathing shortens.
“[Xux’s cells aren’t just healing it. The thing’s body is changing. Taking full advantage of what’s given to it.]”
Quiet.
As if all the air is sucked out of the room.
A’zawa doesn’t breathe. Realization feels like being dunked under freezing oceans. Stronger…the Deathworlder’s getting stronger!?
Luxsin drops their hand from the tank, “[We haven’t noticed until recently but…It’s growing stronger. Evloulving slowly after each submersion.]”
They make a squelching noise, and their words sound more and more like he is talking to himself, “[From what we’ve learned, both what was gathered from the Alatheina Poacher's ship and our own observations….]”
The Deathworlder crouches over one of the Alatheina Poachers, but its head is turned up, staring right at the camera.
That meeting had been ages ago. A glimpse of the Deathworlder he had been sent to retrieve.
The destruction….but the loss of information had been skimmed over. More as a warning for what why should prepare for,
Information gathered from the Alatheina Poachers…
Luxsin’s voice carries on, “[Terranian bodies are equipt to adapt. …if given the time. The longer they survive the more likely they are to thrive. It’s how they thrive on a Class 12 Deathworld. How they manage to live on almost all of Terra’s Surface.]”
A’zawa watches as the Bl’vat turns to him.
“[Amazing, right? Though adaption can only happen if certain conditions are met of course. But here? With our technology, our medical care? Survival is a guarantee. This place is their new normal!]”
The Doctor’s tentacles are sporadic with their rising tone. A mix of frustration and… excitement, “[They’re not supposed to be more than that.]”
Luxsin raises a hand, their green wing spread, “[Amazing on their own. If we had just been able to heal them…without their bodies taking to Xux’s cells and adapting with them…]”
A’zawa snaps to attention. ‘...with them?’
“[And our Deathworlder has adapted. Healed after every match…Their pain tolerance grows with the constant use of our shock collars. Their resistance to the tranquilizer formula is another problem as we’ve had to switch and strengthen doses three times over their time here.]”
They’re…! A’zawa’s yellow eyes widen before they dart over to the Tank.
“[Breaking them isn’t an option anymore, Hero.]”
…creating a—
“[If this change keep occurring aver every healing session….The Terranan will grow immune to our tranquilizers. Its pain resistance will grow with its strengthening body structure. Soon our shock collars won't have any effect!]”
—Monster.
Notes:
why this took forever?
Made up a new language for A'zawa to speak, which took forever and is still not complete, but you get a glimpse of it here :3
SO MUCH WORLD (galaxy?) BUILDING!!! You get to see some of it here!! WHOO!
Added more art to past chapters :3c and some are for future chapters /wink wonk/ will add more in the future!
Also, i plan to add one more drawing to this chapter, [Edit: i added the drawing!] but wanted to get the chapter out cause I hate making you guys wait /sweats/
So much setup and planning in this. Already working on the next chapter because ORIGINALLY this was going to be way longer...but I decided to split it so I could get a chapter out sooner lol.
Hope you like ^^
Chapter 8: (Miss)Understand Me
Summary:
Worldbuilding, Guards, and Harsh Emotions.
Notes:
Think of this as the second part of the last chapter ^^
I drew some art for the previous chapter where A'zawa is at the bar. Even rewrote it a bit, added more detail!
Also!
GUYS I FINALLY LEARNED HOW TO CHANGE THE WAY THE TITLE OF THE FIC LOOKS!! LOOK AT IT!!! IT IS NOW DIFFERENT!!! /SCREAMING/
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter Eight - (Miss)Understand Me
He rolls onto his side as he finishes his last push-up.
Heavy breathing echoes through Izuku’s cell.
Sweat drips down his neck as he pushes up from the floor.
His heart runs at a quick pace, and his muscles ache and tremble from exertion.
The heat in his chest, once bursting with static, a storm of emotion, has turned into distant thunder.
Tired eyes drag their way across his cell. The shadows under them brush against his freckled cheeks.
His breathing evens out as he takes a seat; it’s warm from the muzzle still strapped to his face. As he leans back a sigh of relief escapes him; the cold stone wall cools burning muscles.
Turning his head, the click of his muzzle against the wall is ignored. Bushy hair obscures his eyes.
It’s still dark.
A yawn has him blinking back sleep.
He feels refreshed, like when he’s brought back from fighting.
Reset.
Eyes roll over to his ‘bed’ of leaves—
—The flutter of tree leaves— and Izuku isn’t the only one being hunted by the new creature—
He remembers four yellow cat eyes, watching him, expanding and shrinking in fear.
And he couldn’t let them d i e—
—It’s after them! He needs to distract it—!
Izuku swallows and it’s like pebbles have filled his throat. He expects to taste blood— A spray of hot/cold paints his face blue-red-green-orange- R E D. And it would send his stomach churning, even when it didn’t taste like blood. Even when it tasted refreshing/sweet/spicy/acidic—
But this mouth is clean, he’s been cleaned.
Izuku closes his eyes, not like it does much, his cell is already dark, the night cycle still going and breakfast is a far-away thought.
—And that thing wanted to spill his blood. Clawing, chasing, hunting— Vicious, dangerous…trapped—
‘—Like me.’
And just as similar…more of the same…the creature wouldn’t give up. Wouldn’t quit.
The pebbles turn to shattered glass.
‘Not until I killed—’
His lungs shutter as he takes in slow, deep, breaths.
His collar doesn’t beep. He still breathes.
Teeth clench and he steadies his heart.
—Heart still racing and heaving—Trembling as adrenaline floods their body. The edges of his vision tunnels as the other— large cat- danger - DANGEROUS— snarls and hisses at him— low and ready to pounce—
His reaction was automatic.
Ready to fight again, not even considering flight— Another round— The crowd is screaming.
Thud.
And everything stopped.
Izuku had watched as the cat-centaur Alien collapsed to the ground, eyes closed and limp like the dead.
‘What…?’
And suddenly, he was given a second option. Something other than Fight/Survive.
He took it.
Izuku remembers running away, sparing the other, able to even have that choice and the air that whipped past him felt sweet with relief.
Opening his eyes to the darkness, Izuku groans in annoyance, a sound that comes out more like a growl. Bitter and heavy.
It was all a trick.
The biting pain of electricity— burning, stabbing — and the injection of choking toxins as unconsciousness is forced upon him.
He’s tried to hope that not everyone here…that not every Alien has it out for him…only to be proven wrong since his abduction. Yet, he still hopes.
Hollow laughter stays stuck in his chest; It pops and sticks to his lungs like tar. The thin smile that spreads across Izuku’s face looks painful. His hair sticks to his face as sweat cools. The shadows under his dull eyes look like bruises.
Maybe they are nice. Just not to him.
His smile thins even more and something inside hurts.
‘Because I’m Human?’
Izuku closes his eyes again…and pushes himself up to his feet. Bare feet pad across the cold floor. ‘A…Terranian…?’
He swallows and the hole in his chest grows. If being a Terranian means he should be treated the way he is. The way they spit or stutter the title like it’s something horrible. Then the other name they call him must make him out to be something worse.
He just hopes…if his mother was also taken somewhere… she’s doing better. That all he has to do is escape this place and find her. Then everything will be okay again. Maybe other Aliens call her something else, maybe they see her kindness, her humanity, and that she’s safe … Alive —
Warm water sprays him from the side walls, soaking him and his suit.
Izuku jerks in place and blinks…the washroom surrounds him as soap begins to sud and foam. The heat seeps into his body and trickles down his spine. Muscles unwind and sharp emotions dull .
He takes in a shaky breath and when more water rolls down his face he sniffles and scrubs at his hair. The soap they use smells like nothing and feels strange on his skin, sliding beneath his suit and bubbling with a slight tickling sensation. Whatever it’s made of it works; Leaving his skin soft and his hair shining.
Steam builds and Izuku watches the large windows of his cell fog up. Not that it matters, it’s still Dark Time, and unless they have some form of night vision Izuku’s sure most wouldn’t be interested in seeing him wash up past the curiosity of watching a zoo animal. Plus, he doesn’t usually have to wash up, Izuku’s noticed that after every fight he comes back healthy and cleaned up.
But that doesn’t mean he won’t ever shower. Already he’s begun to calm as the shower’s gentle spray envelops him fully. It’s been…too long since he was hugged by his mom—
He turns and steps towards the back wall towards a larger showerhead.
—That’s the first thing he’ll do when he finds her.
The side sprayers shut off when the large shower head comes to life, rising off the soap.
He looks down and his hair hangs around his face like a green curtain. Stubborn curls hook upwards at the ends. Water drips off wet locks and Izuku watches as foam collects and runs down the square drain; His thoughts follow.
A’zawa wakes up that morning with the desire to go back to sleep. To turn into his bed and hide from the world. For a moment it had been any other day. The motions of getting up and making a cup of [Coffee] as he got ready for work.
For a moment his life wasn’t this.
It’s quiet, the Day Lights in his room haven’t even turned on yet.
A’zawa looks up and takes in his dark room. They stuck him in an unoccupied guards room a hallway away from where the occupied Guard’s Dorms are located.
.
The walls behind him and directly in front of him are in the shape of pentagons; forcing the ceiling into a triangular point. The left and right walls are simple rectangles— The Entrance is to the right, locked until Light time.
The room is made of a crude Taktone Metal with some higher grade metal trim that runs around all walls; It connects to the frame of the entrance. The floor is smooth and cool.
Day Lights— Three of them— stick out of the walls. One above the dresser and the bed, the door, and the wall across from the bed where the counter and empty shelf are located. The lights are off and it’s only thanks to his night vision that he can walk around without much trouble.
The Hero stares down at the Ah’pel’O pod, the top cut open and steaming with fresh [Coffee]. The brown liquid reflects his face on its dark surface.
.
The smell is a comfort, fresh, nutty, and almost spicy.
One hand raises the pod to his maw and the I-line Thera laps at the bitter liquid. His eyes remain half-lidded, still groggy from a fitful sleep.
Those same eyes glace down to the mark on his arm. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. Whatever Luxsin had given him before their departure did wonders. Though he wishes he didn’t have to feel thankful to one that eyed him with analytical interest…
A heavy sigh leaves The I-line Thera in two waves as both sets of lungs exhale. His body unwinds with the motion.
“[A Separate room.]”
Sir stares down at him with his multiple black eyes. Fangs clack against each other.
“[When going over footage of the Terranian…]” A’zawa speaks calmly, “[If I were to go into the creature’s cell, I’ll just kick up territorial behavior.]”
Those black eyes shine, “[4 Cycles [2 days] . Training will begin on the 5th Cycle.]”
The Hero straightens, ears forward.
The larger Alien steps back on eight legs, “[We’ll clear one of the extra storage rooms. The Deathworlder should be in top condition by then. A Cycle before their re-entry to the Arena.]”
Play the part.
A’zawa lowers themselves, ”[Thank you Sir. ]”
—and the words feel bitter.
It’s been three Cycles [1 ½ Days], today will be the fourth Cycle…which means tomorrow…
A’zawa finishes off the [Coffee] dropping the empty pod into the incinerator through a hole in the countertop. Flames ignite with a quick whoosh and the pod is destroyed.
The I-line Thera pads his way over to the sleek and glossy side table beside his bed and picks up the file Luxsin had given him before he had left last Cycle [½ a Day].
The thin, flat, holo pad comes to life, and pictures and text of the Deathworlder light up at him. He scrolls down to the written theories and plans for the Terranian’s Training.
- The Collars hadn’t worked. And with the Creature’s ability to adapt combined with what the Xux’s Cells do…it won’t be an option for long.
- Fear— If the Terranian even felt such emotion and wasn’t just acting to displayed aggression with its own— also hasn’t worked.
- Food could be ignored— wouldn’t restraining the Deathworlder change things? Unable to take the food on their own…
A’zawa takes a seat on his bed— a simple cushion in an oval shape, easy to curl up in— and continues reading and writing random thoughts down.
- After a fight? Worn out??? Less likely to be aggressive and comply????
- Other than chucks of meat, what would a Terranian like? Live prey?
- They’re still intelligent Species, just cruel, dangerous, aggressive…Toys? Something that they could solve? Do they like puzzles if it's not about building something harmful? I heard they used rocks as tools to break the collar and panels.
- Show no fear, a balance between not trying to fight for dominance and not acting like prey…Calm? Act calm?
Past the guessing, came the absolutes.
- A separate training room, not in the Terranian's territory.
- Restrained and unable to reach/kill the trainer.
- Commands will be translated into Aktru, Sir’s language.
The Hero looks down at the notes…and it’s not much. How do Terranians learn? Is it the same way his Mw’z were trained to not scratch the furniture? Like other Attack Pets? Being the cold trainer that demands respect as a way of dominance?
He needs to succeed…His friends —
—Tap.
The I-line Thera blinks. His claws have extended, resting against the smooth Holopad.
He shakes his head and they retract.
…The Terranians are intelligent Species. Even if they can’t be resonated with, overcome by savage instincts….they should be able to be taught.
A’zawa…teacher of UA, has had troubled students.
Twin tails sway.
Maybe—
Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz—!
The Hero flinches, ear erect as the lights in his room flicker on.
Four eyes turn to slits.
The Light time notification.
The start of a new Cycle.
“[Here.]”
The strip of metal is nearly weightless in his paws. Various gleaming lines run over it in an asymmetrical pattern and a picture of an asteroid is ingrained on the surface. His Hero name is printed below the image, assigning the payment card to him despite his Prisoner Status.
A’zawa looks down at the small Alien, ears pulling back in question.
The white-eyed Alien huffs, scales glimmering before settling on a cool blue color, “[I don’t have to tell you why .]” She turns and translucent tentacles dance around her, “[Just think of it as payment for ‘Training’ the Deathworlder.]”
Yeah, that makes no sense . But he’s not going to question her.
The Hero flicks his tails in— fake— understanding, ears pulling up and at ease, “[Thank you.]”
“[Whatever.]” TheA’qua’Syc waves a dismissive fin, “[You’ll be payed in Dust , none of that fancy Stars shit.]”
He figured as much, the Stars have little value here.
“[Now, go. ]”
The morning meal time has long passed with him going over some more notes, writing some more theories, and meeting R’za. So getting to the Cafeteria is a near breeze, Guards already starting their duties and the few encounters he’s had are nothing more than side-eyeing sneers or uninterested Aliens rushing to where they need to be.
He makes it to an open entrance, the cafeteria on the other side. The room is a large dome, a wide oval with a curved ceiling. It’s lit up with bright white lights, the floor looks to be made from some kind of light yellow [Linoleum]. It looks nice but it is a stark contrast from all the greys and rustic red he’s grown accustomed to. It must've been cleaned before the Day Lights came on.
.
Tables are organized in rows that run down in columns from one side of the wide space to the other. They’re the standard long tables for multiple seating; Dark orange underside and brown top. Formless green chairs are scattered about, able to change for specific species. The tables are a bit higher up than he’s used to, but he shouldn’t be surprised with the muscled Guard he’s seen working here.
Food stations and booths take up the right side of the room. A few vending machines are dispersed around the huge area.
The smell of food grows stronger with his approach and his mouth begins to water. A low purr rumbles from his chest. Hunger beckons him forward and with it the courage to ignore hateful glares and spat curses. He really can’t fill up on [Coffee].
His tail swishes back and forth and A’zawa makes it to the payment scanner. He presses his new card over the blue sensor pad and an equally blue laser light beams out and runs over the slim metal.
A beep confirms the payment and a robotic voice states, “[Payment accepted.]”
A metal tray drops onto the counter beside the scanner.
“[Have a nice day.]”
He pockets the card in his vest side pocket and picks up the sheet of metal, walking over to the booths of fresh plant varieties. They’re not cooked, fresh, and washed for consumption. Four yellow eyes scan the containers of fruits and vegetables, Loomberry, Th’aht, Grr’ton, C’A’lo-C’A’lo, Duh’bin, Zap’lin, Woalo, Mini Fro, Saylo, and other plants.
He murrs in pleasant surprise, how a place like this could have such a wide variety of food. Reaching out, the I-line Thera picks up some Th’aht and Kah’Graa. The blue leaf and thin violet grass smell lovely.
Now for some protein.
He turns to the smell of cooked food, the line is small, and only three other Aliens are picking out some food at the counter. Round ears pick up the sound of dishes being washed in large washing machines, the kitchen staff are settling down.
He takes another glance around the Cafeteria. Only a few tables are full, and groups of guards and other staff chatter amongst themselves. Barking and other loud noises crop up once in a while, but the atmosphere is nice. It's almost like he’s back home, working at UA. The students finish up before classes start again.
A’zawa walks and takes a place in line. Fortunately, he’s ignored by the Alien he stands next to. As the line moves he’s able to take in the hot food and—
Flesh.
A’zawa jerks back and— Clatter- BANG — drops his tray on the counter.
A sharp hiss has him looking at the large reptilian Alien glaring down at him.
.
Yellow eyes dart to tables, multiple aliens stare back. His mind scatters and his tails fluff up, meek, weak, keep your act, “[I-I’m sorry—]”
The tall scaled alien bares their sharp teeth, red eyes flashing with amusement, “[Ah, ya never had the chance for a real meal under the Federations reign? ]”
They bark a throaty choking sound and a few tables join them, watching the scene, mocking.
Splines lower and the tall reptilian— a Tor’gor— leans back, “[Well don’t let me stop you, Hero.]” A light growl leaves them for they go back to filling their tray, “[Must be starving.]”
A’zawa is still before picking his tray back up, the plants on it are disheveled, a few on the counter.
Inhale.
Echale.
Paws grab the vegetation, reorganizing them. The weight of watchful eyes fades before the conversation turns back into background noise.
The line moves.
A’zawa is left standing and bracing himself before looking back to the— Flesh — meat. Theirs, like the plants, various types. Cooked in many different ways. How could these criminals eat such Primitive food? Just because they aren’t members of the Federation, doesn't mean they aren’t intelligent space-faring species.
He hates that the smell has his mouth filling with saliva.
The Hero swallows, forcing himself to move further in line until— there. A weight lifts. A stack of colored protein bricks comes into view, the label from the intergalactic rations provider. Safe . E’cn: Protein bricks— or E’cn — are made from bugs and plants, the colors signal different flavors: Spicy, Sweet, Salty, Sour, etc.
.
The purple brick takes up the middle of his tray. He moves on.
A’zawa reaches the end of the line and a selection of various eggs greet him. His nerves have settled. More familiarity. Eggs are safe, not fertilized, and from animals. Non-Sapients. He looks over the haul and recognizes some Tak’A’lo eggs. The pink surface with white spots. He grabs two.
Now a drink.
The Hero looks to the closest vending machine. It takes a few C’zon [Minutes] and a swipe of his Dust Strip before he’s able to get a can of Yoken Fruit Jelly.
.
Finally, finally, he can take a seat—
“[ — Hey, Hero! ]”
No .
The I-line Thera looks over— Can’t ignore them, this isn’t UA, these aren’t his friends or coworkers — and the same hulking Tor’gor from the lunch line is standing and waving him down.
Claws graze the underside of his tray as he walks on over.
The large reptilian isn’t alone their table is almost full, and the only unoccupied seat is— Unfortunately— beside the Tor’gor beckoning him.
A’zawa stops right beside the lumpy orange chair, voice toneless, “[Yes?]”
Growling laughter vibrates through A’zawa’s limbs and he tenses.
Red diamond-slitted eyes scan him before landing on his full tray. “[Not even gonna try, huh? You really are brainwashed.]”
A’zawa just blinks, “[Do you need something?]”
A forked tongue darts out and the Tor’gor gestures to the seat, “[Sit down.]”
A’zawa has the urge to hiss but stays quiet as his tray clangs against the table's surface; Aliens, criminals, look at him, entertained by a Hero forced to play nice — a Prisoner.
Four yellow eyes slide over the group. He notes their ‘Marks’. Unlike his black one, the Guards seem to be silver in color. Though… The Tor’gor’s has a double ring around it.
A’zawa takes a seat and the chair molds itself into a low stool/platform, supporting his lower body.
Cold air brushes against his arm and he Jerks in place snapping to the left and looking down at the small Alien… sniffing him.
.
There’s laughter that he ignores as the small alien— a Koe’Vra— pulls back, head tilted, “[Huh, you don’t smell any different than the rest of us.]” Pink eyes narrow, “[Ya sure you’re a a Hero? ]”
A large hand lands on the small Alien’s head, avoiding their horns. They’re leaning over the tabletop, having to nearly crawl onto the surface as they reach over to pat the other.
A’zawa eyes their blue-tipped spikes.
.
“[Gem, He’s a Hero , not a flower.]”
The Tor’got to his right snarls with amusement, “[Nah, maybe she’s onto something.]”
Their forked tongue flickers out and A’zawa hutches down to avoid being touched. “[Couldn’t sworn I could smell traces of FED Z’rra when they walked in!]”
A’zawa refocuses on his tray of food, picking up the Red Brick and taking a sizable chomp from it. The taste of salty and savory mush is a nice distraction. It’s warm and easy to chew, the red dye drips and coats his mouth.
“[Wow, eager to eat that shit.]”
Round ears flicker to the right, but he tries to just…eat.
The Tor’got leans in, eyeing his tray, “[I mean, it’s pretty plain compared to the real deal.]” This time the flicker of his tongue is coupled with a rattling hiss, “[You sure you don’t want some Orse?]”
A’zawa swallows, “[I’m good.]”
“[Uh-huh.]”
They move back, “[It’s not bad,]” Their words twist and the Hero can practically hear the grimace in their voice, “[Doesn’t makes us uncivilized.]”
No. It makes you something worse. You’re smart enough to realize how wrong it is.
The Iziliamber is back in their seat on the other side of the table. A’zawa watches them as he finishes his Red Brick.
The hefty alien swallows up some dried kelp, “[I heard the Deathworlder can eat plants and flesh no problem. Saw the Za-Squad bringing it some Z’alor’st stalks.]”
…That…? Can’t be right…
The Iziliamber catches his gaze, blue eyes piercing, “[It’s true, the thing just chomps em down like they aren’t toxic.]”
But it makes sense…have to be pretty resilient being a Deathworlder. The thought brings zero comfort and A’zawa looks down at his tray.
They hear the Iziliamber shake their head before crunching down on something, “[Heard their stomach acid could digest flesh in seconds.]”
“[It’s true!]” The small Koe’Vra— Gem — pipes up. “[Saw the footage from the lockeroom! Took down a Tunder Behemoth, their skin bubbling like they’d been hit by Strik’tak acid!]”
A’zawa feels like the Infinite Universes just want him to suffer. Because this is great. Wonderful, really. The Deathworlder can throw up acid.
He picks up the can of jelly. The regular triangular prism shape fits nicely in his paws. The cold is a wash of calmness.
The Terranian…isn’t it proof enough…the consumption of flesh without a care…doesn’t that just prove the Deathworlder’s not as intelligent as the rest of them? More like an animal? The criminals are worse than the Deathworlder. They know better . The Deathorlder is just acting on instinct.
Would it kill and eat him without care too?
Crick-Pshhhh!
He opens the can and swallows down the sweet Jelly.
The Tor’Gor speaks casually as they finish off the Orse and move to their own drink, “[Wonder how far that resilience can go, a semi-sapient Deathworlder’s…the apex predator of their Core World. Must be pretty brutal.]”
Their voice draws closer and A’zawa has the cold can in a vice grip. The light metal crinkles.
“[How you planning on training the thing? ]”
I don’t know.
“[I—]”
“[ — Hero, Eraserhead. ]”
He blinks. Yellow eyes draw and land on the small Koe’Vra— Gem .
They’re looking at a Holopad, holding it before turning it towards him, “[That’s that they put you down on the Residence Map.]” Pink eyes look up tail swishing about, “[What’s Eraserhead even mean?]”
His thoughts feel derailed, “[It’s an Alias.]”
Her tongue darts out, “[Well Duh! ]”
The stripped Izailiamber chuckles, “[What is your name anyway?]”
The white tails around his neck jerk and sway, “[Doesn’t matter. I don’t think—]”
“[ — What?]” They snap. Jaw opening closing, his sharp teeth click from the force. “[Us savage criminals—?]”
BANG-! Claws slam on the table.
A’zawa flinches back.
Four eyes widen. He can’t fight. He’s a prisoner. He could be punished, killed— No, they need me.
Muscle tense as A’zawa gets ready to leap back from the table.
The Iziliamber’s spines bristle as a heavy fist pounds on the surface of the table,“[—don’t have the honor of knowing your na—?]”
“[—No, he’s right.]”
It’s like the quiet before something big approaches. The pull before a tsunami. The eye of a storm. The flash before thunder. His senses scream as the Tor’gor’s voice— devoid of emotion, before twisting into something hard, something cruel— settles over him like morning fog.
“[—It doesn’t matter, call him Hero , Eraserhead. He’s nothing else…maybe we should call him Prisoner instead?]”
No one moves.
The cafeteria has quieted and A’zawa scans the large dome. The few occupied tables have stopped, turning to watch building tensions.
A’zawa lowers himself, forcing his muscles to ease up as he looks down. The can he had been holding is crushed, but empty, “[I’m sorry, I didn’t think—]”
The blue-green Iziliamber sneers, “[—That’s right, you didn’t. Heroes —]”
“ [—Jat’Set.]”
The Iziliamber’s— Jat’Set’s— heavy tail thumps against the floor as they swallow their words.
A’zawa watches the way the hefty Alien refuses to look at the Tor’gor, their jaw tight.
Jat’Set’s voice is heavy with something hot and volatile, “[May I be excused, Captain?]”
Captain…? A’zawa peers up to the now-standing Tor’gor as he stares back at the other Reptilian.
The Tor’gor seems to be studying the other, red eyes are cold, calculated.
“[Go.]” And what should’ve felt like the release of a held breath, only feels like the careful movements of a creature of prey limping away from a predator.
The Tor’gor sits down and begins eating again.
The weight over the room has lessened but A’zawa isn’t going to tempt things. He sets the crushed can on the table and begins to chew on some Th’aht leaves.
Movement from the small Koe’var has him picking up the pace, swallowing, and grabbing a handful of Kah’Graa. Eat, survive, leave.
“[I’m sure he didn’t— Rav’ous—]”
“[—Gem.]”
Their thin tail lashes about before the small Koe’Vra huffs, “[Yes… Captain. ]”
The Tor’got doesn’t comment on her tone, gulping down a Ch’rit egg.
The rest of the meal is eaten in silence.
A’zawa has seen and heard of the ways other Aliens train creatures into obedience… Using them as ship guards, [guard pets], or simple companion animals.
- Authority, being in control.
- Food or other treats as motivation.
- Punishment…
Deathworlders are trained about the same. Trained as they are nothing more than monstrous beasts.
The only experience he has of training an animal… is his own Mw’z. Though little creatures weren’t hard to train. They practically litter-trained themselves and do as they please. A simple creature that is easy to live with.
He knows things won't be the same with the Deathworlder.
But the Terranian isn’t the average Deathworlder. They’re intelligent, to a degree. Able to manipulate, outsmart, and think before acting. This is a species that, despite their urges of violence, learned to travel to their moon.
Even if they also use that intelligence to build weapons for war he cannot ignore their intelligence.
It chose to ignore previous ‘trainers’....until it grew aggravated and lashed out. It will try the same with him. He has to figure out the balance of being seen not as prey, but not as an opponent.
But… how?
His guts are in knots.
A’zawa picks up the pace as he travels down various hallways.
Tomorrow he’ll be forced to train the creature.
He sighs. The knots tighten and the food from earlier weights heavy in each of his stomachs.
The cycle has drawn out and his mind is in a near fog. He’s lost and…
He stops.
The hallways have darkened. The only light comes from the sides where Cells that line either side of the walkway.
Creatures snarl and growl. Sharp whistles spring forth with the click of claws and stomp of bodies. Each cell contains an animal, each marked with a High Threat Level: a symbol painted on each cell door. The call to the far left…is the only one containing a Deathworlder.
The Terranian.
A’zawa’s pace slows as he draws closer. Trepidation dawns on him, a warning. He doesn’t have to be here; Tomorrow he’ll be forced into the same room with the Terranian, why not draw things out?
But even if he manages to ‘Train’ the Terranian, how much time is left before their body reaches a point that stunning them with tranquilizers or shock collars won’t work anymore?
Adaption. A trait these Terranians have that helps them survive.
The Xux Cells. Used for healing but reacting strangely with the Terranian’s biology…
How long are they going to be able to contain this creature before they become something uncontainable? Able to escape and cause chaos across the cosmos. A trail of mass panic, destruction, and death would follow the creature's journey through space.
Even if he were to find his friends…if he can’t find a way to control this Deathworlder, to survive, it won’t matter. He can’t fail.
A’zawa continues…
…Until the bright light of the Deathworlder’s cell shines upon him.
The Hero stands in front of one of the large windows.
Four eyes dart and search the room, a strange fear of looking for something that could kill him—
There.
Yellow eyes narrow as pupils contract.
They’re…curled up?
A’zawa leans closer.
The Terranina is towards the far left, sitting next to their nest(?) leaf piles.
They…look so small.
And it looks… wrong.
How a tall creature could become so little… Is this how they would lay in wait? Able to hide before ambushing— And they’re so quiet. Able to mimic sounds, yell and bark. With such a skill the lack of noise now is… Are they waiting for something? Are they…
…Sleeping?
The breath that comes from held lungs is a balm on frayed nerves.
The I-line Thera sits in place, body unwinding.
It’s not even the Dark time and the Deathworlder is already asleep. It seems both times now, since his encounter in the Wilds, the creature is not conscious.
Is the Terranian still tired from the escape attempt? Or is it normal for such a destructive creature to sleep this much? How long do they sleep? If so…how long can they stay awake? How long are their Cycles on Terra?
Far from home.
Would a being with such a craving for destruction…even miss a place they might not even call ‘Home’? Do they even feel the ache of ‘Homesickness?’
Like he—
“It’s gone! This place is — !”
— A’zawa shakes his head and four eyes land on the Deathworlder.
It simply stays in place, breathing slowly and its face hidden behind its bent legs.
He turns away, looking to the other occupied cell rooms.
The other creatures may be dangerous in their own right, but nowhere near as deadly as a Deathworlder. A creature made to survive and even thrive on a Deathworld. These other creatures would be seen in [Zoos] and [Nature reserves] some even trained as [Guard Pets].
A Deathworlder would kill him without a second thought. Violent to the core. But these animals? He’s seen a Da’ko’til lay in the warm sun, a Pin’dip enjoying grooming from their owner, and a Bi’woe playing with young kits.
And now they’re being forced to fight to the death.
He watches as an O’pr’E huffs and rolls onto its side. Its weight makes the floor shake and another animal growl or cry out in response. The O’pr’E falls asleep despite the noise.
A’zawa looks back to the terranian. It's… he’s the one that had helped recapture them. Bringing them back to this cruel place.
No.
They…would’ve killed it if they couldn’t have caught it.
Right?
He huffs, a paw reaching out and touching the crystal window.
Tonk.
The cold that has settled in his veins turns into something sharper . Ice forms needles, biting as they threaten to draw blood. The feeling digs into his skin as Izuku leans against the left wall.
Clean from the shower…but with nothing left to do but wait in his cell. His cage.
Panic flickers and distorts. Happy memories feel like ridicule. Anger is bitter ash as the fires burn out.
And he tries to push the feeling away.
Izuku grips green curls, staring at nothing.
Tonk.
Izuku stiffens— mind blanking— and he looks up, locking onto the figure standing outside the windows of his cell.
A paw pressed up against the translucent crystal.
Ash burns and he wishes it were sparks of electricity; The same they shock him with.
The burst of emotions that come to life aren’t a raging fire.
They’re a storm.
Teeth bare and green eye peirce his own—
A strange barking sound clashes against flat ears.
“g’O’ ah’w’A!”
A’zawa cringes, fur-raising as he jerks back—
Awake!
—His hearts leap and he stumbles back from the cell.
He turns— and leaves.
Tomorrow, he’ll have to face it.
Uncertain about things…there is one thing he is sure of… the Terraninan had looked at him with hatred. It wants to kill him
The flash of happiness at the Cat Alien’s retreat is smothered under ash and charcoal. Sweet relief turns into bitter poison.
Izuku slumps back against the wall. His fist grips the side of his suit.
Emotions feel like rocks in his ribcage.
Heavy, a burden. A punishment.
Izuku takes in a shaky breath, the sound is loud and grating against his ears.
His mother’s smile.
“I love you.”
Notes:
Author’s Note: Remember when I said I had to cut the last chapter in half? Well, here it is! This was the way I wanted to end the last chapter ^^! I already have most of the next chapter written and scenes drawn so it shouldn’t take long for the next update ^^!
I am looking for a Beta Reader for this fic ^^ go over things to see if everything flows and things make sense. Maybe talk about Plot, sci-fi stuff/worldbuilding?
If you are interested please message me at the email on my profile!
Also! I drew some fanart for one of my favorite MHA Alien AUs! Deathworlders to the extreme! Go read it!! Here is the art:
Fanart for - Deathworlders to the extreme!
Chapter 9: H[uman/ero]
Summary:
Training begins....?
Notes:
Last chapter felt like filler. BUT! Finally! FINALLY! We are here! I’ve been wanting to write this chapter since the beginning of this story and it is here! I hope you enjoy! I loved writing it! Also! this is the first chapter to be Beta read and things went way faster than usual! Whoo!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter Nine - H[uman/ero]
Muscles tense but Izuku’s arms barely move, restrained behind his back.
Icy cold fear strikes his core.
No.
Izuku kicks out— Clang!— and bare feet meet smooth metal.
Tall, bipedal, thin creatures. Dark browns in color with bright red streaks that run down their spiked limbs.
A single yellow eye in the middle of their tall pointed head stares right at him.
NO.
He squirms, thrashing. The muzzle on his face smacks against the floor.
Mouths open and the three figures display crooked pointed teeth.
Strapped down, glinting knives raised.
“Please…!”
He begged for mercy that was never granted.
It builds. Emotions, thoughts, actions. His patience has thinned and breaking comes quick. Shattering and scarring.
His lungs stutter and tighten.
His vocal cords are pulled taught, painful, near burning.
Air can’t come fast enough.
Skin frys and smells like burned hair and meat.
Ice coats his fingers and toes, pain fades into nothing as he watches them turn blue then black.
Starvation. Emptiness in his gut.
Izuku jerks away from reaching hand, glinting metal, harsh light—
His words are spoken, cries, pleas, but they are not heard.
Izuku gets to his knees, opening his eyes— and he can’t see.
He screams. The sound is a wail of something else. He doesn’t even recognize his own voice.
But everything will be okay, right?
Because when things break.
A kick to the chest sends his body slamming into hard stone.
Ribs shatter and blood fills his throat.
They’re fixed up, good as new.
Bubbles cloud around him. Tickling. Cool liquid encompasses his limp form.
He wakes up and nothing hurts.
Izuku screams until— Light . Sparks dance and the boy’s scream cuts off with a gurgling choak.
Izuku crumbles into a wet coughing fit. He can just barely make out the crate he’s been forced into. There’s sound all around him. Past the darkness, the metal walls.
His body moves with each ragged breath. Spit drips down the side of his mouth.
Another fight? Taking him to…?
Thick fear flares and churns, changing into something bitter and hot.
He pushes himself up, leaning against the wall of the crate.
More sparks and— he stills. Green eyes glance down to the light show that dances from his collar.
They still bite.
But…
Brows furrow.
… Barely.
Green eyes stare at nothing, toxic with something far from kind.
When did he become…
…Less than Human?
The crate comes to a stop. The unstable jarring motion of the floor is the only reason he realizes the thing was moving at all. He catches himself with a knee, hunched over, and senses ringing.
His stomach rolls .
Light beams through the open slots at the top, bathing him in rectangular lines.
His body feels wrong.
There’s shouting. Clear through the open gaps above. But they are meaningless.
Beeeeeeep-!
The small lights on his color flash green, the light filling the crate for a split second.
His muzzle opens up and he takes in a deep breath.
Izuku swallows, feeling sick. Nothing is making sense. This isn’t normal. I’m not—
His hands turn to fists as he’s left to kneel and wait.
“---- — —!”
Metal groans and electrical beeping is coupled with the turn of gears and rake of chains clanging against metal.
The crate jerks in place, coming to live with the rest of the mechanical noise.
He doesn’t hear the faint roar of a waiting crowd.
Izuku tenses, heart hammering away.
The wall in front of him makes a loud clicking noise, pieces latching and unlatching. There’s the spring of heavy gears then, air releases with a sharp hiss.
He moves his legs, ready to lunge.
“---- —!”
The wall rises and he bolts forward.
Light blinds him but he’s already squeezing them shut, listening as he squints— Big, scary, stay away from me —!
A harsh drone sound rises like a wave before crashing—
Izuku is yanked back by the cuffs on his hands, skirting over the stone floor and—
The cuffs collide with something behind him—
“Gah!”
—his back nearly crushes his own arms.
Izuku drops to the floor— The padding of his suit protects his knees as they meet the floor first— and the sound rises around him as the ground shutters from the impact.
Izuku falls forward, his chest hitting the floor before he twists to avoid ramming his chin against the stone.
He doesn’t let himself wait.
Izuku pushes himself up with his legs; muscle burning, and his arms ache as he looks up.
Guards are around him, encircling him.
Pupils shrink as they flicker about.
He’s…the room is large, bare. Crude yellow paint creates a circle around him. The Aliens stay outside of that circle. Long bright lights illuminate the entire room, glaringly bright against the white walls and light gray floor.
He shifts and—
—He stills.
Chains rattle.
The group of guards make more noise and—
Izuku grits his teeth.
—They’re laughing . Cheering and jeering. Gesting towards him and talking amongst each other. Like guests at a zoo. Izuku is up for display.
Izuku turns. Sweat trickles down his neck. Chains sing—
Heavy, heavy chains are attached to the center of the yellow circle. Four large loops meet his cuffs.
Trapped.
His mouth is open, gasping . The sound is rushed and short. His body trembles and he tries to move away— get me out of here— escape—!
The chains pull taught and he strains, standing and pulling . The cuffs dig into his wrist.
He’s sure he’s making noise, saying something, or just yelling. But the ringing in his ears is too loud and he’s deaf to anything but the piercing sound.
Sparks fly.
But the pain is barely there. The sting of a sparklers ember. The light flickers and flutters about, the sound of a sizzling chirp.
Inhuman. He’s—!
‘ What did they do to me!? ’
Warmth trickles from his wrist and drips around metal cuffs. His chest feels like a cage, his heart beating against the bars, trying to flee and leave him behind.
The laughter stops.
Izuku looks up and takes in still frames. The aliens are all wearing some sort of armored vest, and they hold weapons out, pointing them right at him. Guns, batons of some sort, even weird futuristic poles. They’ve moved away from the circle, fur fluffed, quills raised, tense.
That’s right. Izuku grips onto fear and forces it into motion. Stay away.
He growls, snarling. Sweat drips down his face and his bushy hair is a mess. Wild, I’m wild. Stay away!
Voices grow, tones turn harsh—
“—---- — —- – —-- – —!?”
Izuku hisses, turning the sound deep and ending in a rolling growl. Green eyes land on the approaching, familiar, fish Alien.
Her sing-song voice grates against his mind.
Glowing white eyes meet his without fear.
Anger flares and he spits— Guards yell— but the fish alien simply moves out of the way, scales flashing blue before settling on ruby red.
A hush falls over the crowd.
It’s quiet, only Izuku’s heavy breathing fills the large room.
“----- — - Terranian.”
She doesn’t wait for a response, turning and speaking to the guards—
“Terranian.”
The crowd zeroes in on him. White eyes look over at him, but he can’t make out an expression. The fish alien looks devoid of emotion.
But he has their attention.
So Izuku grins, “Terranian.” His heart is now a dull thud. “Human.”
White eyes narrow, and jellyfish tentacles flash with glowing light running down to the ends. When they speak, that word, the word they call him, is said with calm fact, “-----------.”
He opens his mouth, trying to mimic her bubbly song language, but the first noise is a mess and he stops before the attempt continues. Jaw clenched with frustration he is left to stand and glower.
“Hue’mon.”
A’zawa stops at the open entrance to the wide room. Yellow eyes watch the scene with the caution of an experienced Hero. Alert, mind racing.
“g’O’ ah’w’A!”
The Terranian’s words echo in his head.
Before he had let fear rule him, the Deathworlder’s words were a bark, harsh and crude.
Words.
It shouldn’t surprise him.
Many other Space Faring species have ranked high on the Federations TA—Threat Assessment— chart. A calculation that rises with how dangerous a species is. Escalating and marking a Species' status under the Federation. In total, b’E [Four] factors contribute to that placement:
- Level of Aggression
- Sapience
- Sentience
- Planetary Classification System
Any species ranked above 90…have only brought war and tragedy to others. Wiping out whole planets. World Killers that don’t even come from Deathworlds.
Many of those species have their own languages, communities, and cultures. Yet their instinct for chaos has always won out.
The Deathworlder can speak .
It didn’t- shouldn’t matter.
It doesn’t- shouldn’t change anything.
Highly aggressive species could not be reasoned with, so why would the Terranian —a Deathworlder, the first spacefaring Deathworlder! —be different?
“— ōrō! ”
His breathing shallows. A tight cord chaffs and pulls around his chest.
“[—Deathworlder.]”
A’zawa swallows and watches as R’za stands before the Terranian, safe behind the yellow circle. The Deathworlder easily towers over the small A’qua’Syc.
The being’s face scrunches up in hostility, their mouth opens and—
“R…Row…ld’z…”
The Terranian stops, huffing a growl before turning away.
A’zawa blinks.
What…?
“[ Hero. ]”
This brings the room’s attention solely to A’zawa, including the Terranian, whose face scrunches up. Those vivid green eyes are like beams that threaten to burn him up.
“[Here.]”
A small remote is handed to him, two buttons take up the surface, one yellow, another red. Neither tells him what they do.
A’zawa looks down at the small A’qua’Syc.
R’za waves her translucent tentacles, lights glowing, “[This will administer a shock as a form of discipline or a deterrent if need be. Won’t do much with keeping it down though. Not that you should worry about that.]”
She gestures to the Terranian who's still watching him, “[Those chains were made by Y’uul’Xs and the guy knows what he’s doing. Should keep them restrained.]”
A’zawa looks over, studying the cuffs. “[Can you have it attached to their harness? Free their hands?]”
R’za waves a fin, “[Sure, they just click the yellow button and you can switch between restraining with hands since they come together at the cuff.]”
A sharp Beep and a warping low whirring before the Terranina hands fall to their sides— then that sound goes up a pitch and the heavy chains pull taught, the end piece latching onto the back of the Deathworlder’s harness at the waist.
The creature snarls before looking over and locking onto the remote in A’zawa’s paws.
“[Thank you.]”
The small Alien flashes rows of serrated teeth, “[Don’t thank me, you either comply, or you die.]”
A’zawa lowers his head before turning over to the chained Deathworlder.
Despite everything inside of him telling him to do the opposite, the Hero walks over to the Terranian.
The Deathworlder bares their teeth, and a hand lifts, “ Hero.”
Ice condenses around both sets of lungs. The creature says the word with ease compared to struggling with R’za’s language. Like it’s natural like it knows that word. Knows it, and say’s it mockingly .
With the way the other Aliens in the room react— skittering back, tense, focused on the Deathworlder— he’s not the only one reacting with unease.
A’zawa clears his throat, looking between the Terranian's nose, not making eye contact, “[ Terranian .]”
A short growl answers back.
A’zawa’s round ears lay flat for a second.
“[I think he’s telling you to throw yourself into a Blackhole.]”
The surrounding guards make sounds of amusement.
The last few words are spoken quickly, and more robotic without that personalized tone from the speaker. A’zawa winces before looking over to the other Alien. A species he’s not familiar with.
Seeing the Hero’s ear rise, questioning, the tangle of vines speaks again, “[It’s slang. Throzon, from my species the Vantrazoit. We aren’t part of the Federation, not that we’re interested.]”
A’zawa feels the tension in the last statement and simply raises a paw to the translator around his neck, “[Again, please.]”
“[Calibrating…]”
The Vantrazoit shuffles in place, “[Slang, Ludge’Zot]”
“[Slang… “ Ludge’Zot ”]”
“[It’s for calling out others’ nonsense or telling them to leave.]”
“[Define… “ ...calling out others’ nonsense or telling them to leave.” ]”
“[Literal Translation… “Throw yourself into a Blackhole.”]”
“[Confirm?]”
Their vines lift the drop, “[That’s right.]”
“[Confirm?]”
The Vantrazoit’s thorns shake, their tone turning flat, “[Yes.]”
A clear beep comes from A’zawa’s translator. He lowers his eyes to the floor, “[Thank you.]”
He hears the other Alien shuffle again, “[...Ludge’zot.]”
Laughter rises from the guards, but A’zawa’s dealt with young lifeforms in his teaching career, he ignores them.
“[Enough.]” R’za’s voice cuts through the room, “[You’re here to observe and act if anything dangerous happens. ]”
She moves back, watching the room, watching the Deathworlder. “[Alright, Hero , get to work.]”
A’zawa looks over to the Deathworlder and—
Green eyes stare, heavy as if trying to convey many thoughts. Probably ways to kill him.
He looks past it, unchallenging as he forces himself to walk closer to the yellow circle painted on the ground. It’s quiet now, a training about to start, a show to perform. He only hopes the Terranian knows their cues.
A’zawa reaches into his vest, paw closing around the small bundle of berries he managed to grab from the cafeteria.
“[Terranian!]”
The creature looks right at him.
A’zawa throws out a small Ow’Brry. It lands, bounces, and rolls; But it stays within the Terranian’s yellow Circle.
“[Treats? Just cause it looked at you?]”
“[A reward for answering when called. Good for before a command.]”
“[ Right .]”
The Deathworlder looks down, over to the small fruit.
“[Wouldn't fresh meat be better?]”
Probably, they’re a dangerous Deathworlder. A taste for a fresh kill might be a better idea but— “[They’re an Omnivore.]”
The group watches as the Deathworlder crouches down, picking up the glowing berry. It holds it with obvious curiosity, fingers surprisingly delicate with how it even squeezes but not popping the fruit.
A’zawa ducks as it flies right at, then over him.
It splatters against the far wall.
One of the guards, a Tor’zidain, clicks their mandibles, “[See? I doubt it’d want your little fruit.]”
“Hero.”
Izuku has to do a double-take. Hero! In English ! It sounds so similar!
Does it have the same meaning?
He shakes his head, almost scoffing at the thought. Well, whatever it truly means, this Cat-Aliens is not a ‘Hero’.
He glares at the Cat-Alien. A Hero wouldn’t trap him in the situation, they would save him.
Izuku looks over the gathered crowd of armed Aliens. Looking over one holding a spear, the tip sharp and cut like a blade on one side.
Spears raised towards him.
Pink eyes.
“-----------.”
He looks away, looking down at the yellow circle painted on the floor.
What is this? Back to that ‘ training’?
His chest tightens. He’s not a pet. He fights to survive, but he still fights. They’re changing him.
“[Terranian!]”
Izuku snaps to attention, almost thankful as he’s pulled away from his own thoughts.
Then a small round thing is thrown over to him and he braces himself for what’s to come.
The ball(?) bounces beside him, then rolls past.
Coming to a stop it has stayed in his yellow circle, within reach.
Izuku waits….but nothing else happens.
Crouching down he picks up the small thing and… its skin reminds him of a grape. The center glows a gentle white light.
A berry? Food?
A treat for a pet. An Animal .
With a flick of the wrist, Izuku throws it right at the Cat-Alien.
Splat!
Sweet goop paints the back wall.
Missed. Izuku eyes the Cat-Alien, ‘Cat-like reflexes.’ A bubbly feeling blossoms in his chest.
He grins and it’s full of amusement instead of anger and fear.
But like every other time, the group around him stiffen. Weapons shuffle and Izuku can’t help but observe the glinting metal and its sharp ends.
“[Terranian.]”
They want to hurt him.
They always h u r t —
“[—Terranian.]”
Izuku looks into yellow cat eyes. When was the last time he saw human eyes? How long has he been trapped here? How much longer will he —?
The panther-like Alien is holding up another small berry. The white glow reflects off their shiny black nose and four yellow eyes.
It eats the berry. Is that safe? Cat’s back home can eat some plants but… This is a cat-Alien. Things are different here. This isn’t home.
“[Terranian.]”
Izuku looks at the Aliens face, the berry’s juice glows and the luminescent substance now coats the Aliens maw.
They throw another berry towards him, and this time Izuku nabs it straight from the air.
The cat-Alien's yellow eyes widen, slit pupils expanding for a second. Some of the armed aliens say things, hushed exclamations; clicks, chitters, and sharp or low sounds.
Izuku ignores them, just like he ignores the guards that come by his cell to drop off food; or the audience when he fights in the arena. They’re all noise. Just noise.
This time Izuku squeezes until he breaks the skin. Juice drips down and stains his fingers a white glow.
He sniffs and smells…a faint sugary, like marshmallows? He tilts his head and brings the small fruit(?) to his mouth.
Licking the berry…
It…!
Green eyes brighten and Izuku chomps and chews soft flesh. The berry breaks apart easily and he savors the taste of cotton candy. The texture isn’t at all right, but the taste!
.
Izuku can feel tears build and he blinks them back as he swallows.
“[Terranian.]”
He looks up and another is tossed to him.
He grins and eats it.
Someone laughs. It’s a warbling chitter. But it’s unmistakable.
Izuku stops and looks over, the glowing juice drips down his hands and mouth.
Another, this time coupled with words he doesn’t understand.
It’s like a punch to the gut.
Being laughed at like… some dumb animal. Lesser. The ugly feelings are back. The feeling is like sludge on his bones, forming hands and pulling. They multiply with every watchful look, every judging stare, every laugh.
And they tighten and yank as he meets the Panther-Alien’s wide eyes.
No.
They don’t get to look at him like that.
Not when they trapped him here and…and treat him like this!
Guards hold up with weapons— and the Deathworlder roars.
Hands turn into claws and they stomp their feet— the floor shutters— those closest to the creature fall to the floor.
R’za’s voice calls out, over the exclamation of guards and their sounds of fear, “[Get up! Weapons down .]”
A’zawa finds himself in a fighting stance, legs spread and posed to move quickly. His Tails are unwound from his neck and raised behind him.
The Deathworlder stands in place, a head taller than A’zawa’s own quadrupedal form. Their eyes are wild. Pupils shrunk as they watch the crowd. They look paler , changing color. Another threat display?
A’zawa’s hearts beat with the rhythm of a starting engine but only the Terranian’s heavy breathing fills the room. It’s shallow, and fast. Most oxygen to the brain? Optimal rate for fighting?
“[Hero!]”
A’zawa’s ears turn towards R’za, but he keeps facing the Deathworlder, “[Yes?]”
Her sing-song voice turns a tad shrill, “[You’re the expert , what do you want to do?]”
“[I—]” The words clutter his mind, blanking.
A’zawa takes in the scene.
The room is a Hair's Breadth away from turning into something deadly .
The guards are rigid. Their weapons are grasped tightly but lowered.
The Terranian is raised to attack. But it hasn’t moved since stomping on the ground. It isn’t out of control.
…waiting?
A’zawa lets out a wave of low purring, only for a second, to calm his mind.
Green eyes glance over to him, before refocusing on the surrounding guards.
Glowing juice covers the lower part of their face. Their held-up hands are still stained.
They had, strangely, looked so calm, enjoying(?) the berry. Still flashing their teeth before consuming the sweet Ow’Brry. A territorial sign? But it hadn’t reacted until—
His tails come back, winding around his neck.
He steps back from the Deathworlder and its eyes glance over to him. When A’zawa speaks, his voice is clear, “[Stand down.]”
Voices— Translators— go off, a mummer that grows, but he tunes them out, “[...And leave.]”
He hears the A’qua’Syc draw closer, “[Giving up already, Hero?]”
“[I’m staying.]”
“[You—!]” She’s behind him, to his right, her singing voice falls like tumbling notes, “[You want to die? ]”
“[No.]” He sighs, tails sway, “[I…we’ve practically cornered the Deathworlder. It’s probably anticipating a fight.]”
A’zawa looks down, to the floor, “[We aren’t getting anywhere if this keeps up.]”
A pause.
“[Fine, but if you get yourself killed ? You’ll never see your crew again.]”
His claws extend and only the clench of his paws keeps them hidden. Nails dig into his paw pads. “[Don’t plan on it.]”
R’za’s glowing gaze keeps it from feeling like a threat, it’s hard to make out her pupils, and where exactly she’s looking. But he can feel its weight.
“[You heard him, out. Everyone out! Get back to your normal routine.]”
The guards follow without saying anything. Following orders and into their roles. R’za doesn’t say anything more as she leaves with the rest of them. He doesn’t expect her to.
When the door slides shut behind them the quiet is almost suffocating. A blanket of snowfall over delicate plant life. Blocking out the sun and encompassing the two occupants.
A’zawa finally faces the Deathworlder.
They’re looking down to him, their breathing has slowed with the guards— and R’za’s leave.
For a moment, A’awa wonders what life they had led on their homeworld. A species from such a brutal upbringing and lifestyle… Are all combatants? Able to fight, living a life of fighting? Even the intelligent ones that are able to reach their moon? At what age do they become warriors? Or are even their young just as vicious?
They— a highly aggressive, from a Deathworld, species— have never been reasoned with. Not without appealing to their base instincts… But, even the most difficult students deserve respect, even if they don’t return it.
“Hue…” The sound feels clunky in his maw, the spines on his tongue almost want to scrape against the word. “… Hue’mon?”
Bright green eyes flash to him, and A’zawa tenses, muscles coiled to spring. But he keeps in place, waiting, fighting instincts that tell him he’ll die—
Those green eyes narrow, “Hero.”
Now that they’re alone, A’zawa picks up the way the word is spoken. Past the heat, the sound of the Terranian’s— Hue’mon’s voice… They sound unused to speech. It is rough but legible.
They watch each other.
A’zawa keeps away from their face, not wanting to disrupt this strange calmness(?) between them. It is not completely free of tension. But neither move to break it.
The Deathworlder stands before him, the contrast between last night and this moment is nearly black and white. Before they had been crouched, a third of their size! Now? The Deathworlder towers over him a head taller!
A stone hits the bottom of his stomach. This is the creature he is supposed to train.
The room is wide, but he feels so small.
Chains rattle.
Movement, digits twitch— and A’zawa flinches back.
There’s a huff of warm air and the Hue’mon makes a low, short growl.
The I-line Thera stares at the Deathworlder as they take a seat, back towards him. Obviously, they don’t feel like A’zawa is a threat.
What are they thinking?
Sit, Stay, Down, Come, etc. These commands are given to trained pets.
Does this Leader really think the Terranian— Hue’mon will obey? Pain had always been a defining factor in training dangerous life forms. But Terranians are the first highly aggressive Life form from a Deathwrold. And from what the Doctor, Luxsin, had been saying…
They can’t be reasoned with.
What is he doing here? Why would they think this whole training thing would ever work?
He’s just doomed to fail.
No.
The faces of his friends—
10-C-A, Neh’muur’ii, H’za’shii.
—flash through his mind.
A’zawa reaches into his vest, pulling out the small bundle of Ow’brry’s. .
How to earn a Deathworlder’s Trust? No one has done this. Do they even understand kindness? There’s so much he doesn’t know. But… Prickly students ready to lash out, stray Mw’z with their stinger’s raised… A’zawa is a teacher. Kindness? He’ll teach them. He’ll show them.
A’zawa looks up to the Hue’mon’s back. This is just a very large, very dangerous M’wz.
If only he could believe that…
The air that leaves his lungs does little in easing the ever-present urge to run.
Square one…and he’ll take the first step. Even if it’ll take time.
A’zawa hutches over, making himself smaller. The tightness in both his ribcages is almost physically painful.
He takes a step forward and the Hue’mon doesn’t move. A’zawa doesn’t even see them breathing.
They take another step— and the Deathworlder’s head snaps to the side, green eyes locking onto him. The snarl on their face feels like a warning before death— The Hero freezes.
But he doesn’t quit.
Yellow eyes look to the ground, and the paw holding the berries is raised, held out… Past the edge of the yellow circle.
When neither moves— The Hue’mon quiet and A’zawa’s breathing comes tight and quick— A’zawa brings the fruit to the ground and places them down and gives them a gentle push toward the huge creature.
Done. Now he can leave. The Hue’mon will feel less territorial if no one is around—
A furless hand grabs onto his wrist, yanking him close to the Deathworlder.
Regret feels like falling from a great height without anticipation. The ground blinks from existence, a hole appears, and he’s left to drop. His hearts leap into his throat and his mind scrambles.
The fur on his arm spikes out and he can’t stop the hiss that burst from his maw, coupled with bared fangs as his ears fall flat.
The hand on his arm only tightens as the Deathworlder looks at him without fear a hiss of their own feels like a warning.
A’zawa stares into round green eyes and sees his own feral expression.
Then those eyes narrow, the creature's expression hardens, mouth thinning. The I-line Thera feels the weight of being scrutinized. His hearts clench, is he being considered as prey or a threat? Is this where everything ends? Here? Alone with an intelligent Deathworlder? A position he put himself in?
Stupid. How could he…—?!
—He’s let go—
—And his body reacts before his mind can register the situation; Leaping and facing the Deathworlder with his hackles raised. Yellow eyes turn to slits as his upper torse lowers and his bottom half arches.
A strange chirp has him looking around the room for the source of the sound. Only to come back to land on the Terranian.
They’re relaxed. Standing and watching him with bared teeth. The Ow’brry’s are held in one hand; the one that hadn’t grabbed him.
A’zawa is pulled from his icy fear with the realization that…that chirp had come from the Deathworlder.
The Hue’mon makes a show of raising the small glowing fruits, before turning to sit on the far side of the painted circle.
Far from him.
A’zawa does not trust them. He does not understand them. Even if he were to teach the Terranian— Hue’mon — the commands, that doesn’t mean they will obey them.
But, A’zawa will take this first step. If they are to get anywhere, buy time, and survive this place, they can’t turn on each other. This might not last, this tentative…truce? Whatever it is, he will learn , just as he will teach .
If he is to find his crew— his friends , he needs the time to look for them first.
A’zawa takes one last look at the Hue’mon …and leaves.
Izuku listens as the ‘Hero’ leaves, the door sliding shut with a woosh .
And their confidence shutters…and topples.
The false sound of building blocks as they fall and clatter to the floor, echoes in his ears.
He brings the berries to his chest. He holds them as both hands press against his suit's chest plate.
Knees buckle and Izuku sinks further to the floor.
When he breathes, a horrible wheezing sound leaves him. Deflated like a broken toy.
Clenching his teeth Izuku squeezes his eyes shut and the chains that rattle behind him are a mockery to the figurative chains that wrap around his chest and tighten.
Emotions hurt like thorns and blades. Crushing in their intensity.
But the pain is a lifesaver from the nothingness that threatens to drown him. Pulling on struggling legs, weak kicks keep him above a black ocean.
He has been surrounded by enemies. Aliens that had weapons. They could— would— hurt him—!
“Hyu’mon.”
Four yellow cat eyes watch him, wary, but holding out a paw full of glowing berries.
When was the last time someone had reached out without hurting him?
Izuku had acted on pure emotion. A desperate feeling had exploded from his core. A hunger for something other than food. A want for kindness.
Hands grabbed and pulled. Yanking the Alien closer— and only the other’s fear had kept him from—! From what? Falling apart?
But seeing the way the other cringed, hissing and lashing out like a startled street cat. An act so foreign, yet so familiar , had pulled him away from his emotions. Pushing them away and coming back to himself.
Instead, he has studied the other.
He doesn’t know what this Alien is doing. Where they place on the hierarchy in this place. But when he had spoken with the fish-Alien and had gotten everyone to leave, he must place high.
He needed to show them he wasn’t afraid, that he wasn’t going to fall to their orders.
Izuku wasn’t going to break.
Yet.
As soon as the Cat-Alien, Hero, had left…
Izuku holds himself, a sorry imitation of a hug. Tears prick at his eyes and he only tenses further—
—Warm wet juice drips down his hands.
He recoils, unwinding, and looks down.
The Berries have all nearly been crushed. Glowing juice stains his chest plate and bare hands.
The springs loosen.
Izuku brings the mess up to his mouth and takes a bite.
Soft sweetness spreads over his tongue, cotton candy. He expects the taste to melt, but it stays as he chews and swallows.
Swallows down prickly emotions and their thorns.
He takes in a shuddering breath, the sound wet.
Izuku takes another bite.
“[How was your first day with the Terranian Deathworlder?]” The squirming of Luxsin’s tentacles stops, like plants wilting, “[Our Leader will want an update in six Cycles [3 days].]”
A’zawa looks down at the Deathworlder’s file, “[ Hue’mon. ]” Yellow eyes drag up, “[They call themselves a Hue’mon. ]”
Notes:
Izuku: >:[ I bet your some higher up in this place! All those guards and even the fish-alien listened to you! Well, I'm not scared!
A'zawa: QtQ Please don't kill me I just want to find my friends
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