Bath was deeply disturbed by what Lisa has told him. He wasn’t angry at her for telling him—not really—but couldn’t prevent his anger from manifesting itself before her words.
Was he really that malleable? In eighteen short years, a span of time so insignificant as to be a speck, he could change so much? To begin to feel and express human emotions, and to do so subconsciously?
Was he really arrogant? Seeking recognition for the largest catastrophe in Earth’s history? Looking for a reaction...Awe at the might of one of Earth’s most dangerous ancient predators?
This kind of reasoning implied that he cared what humans thought. Was he so shallow? When had he ever cared about the thoughts of anything else?
Bath felt suddenly a great chain weighing upon his body, binding him to Lisa, to the human race. A terrible chain that he wished to break, but wasn’t sure that he could. Could he go back to not caring, to not wanting companionship? To being complete in himself, in ruling over all without recognition?
Of course I can, Bath shouted to himself. I am Bath. As though being Bath was a statement in itself, a cry of victory.
But tendrils of dread coiled about his heart, a reflection of his true doubts. Bath knew he needed to do something with himself or he’d go crazy wallowing in his own thoughts.
His thoughts all seemed bent towards proving Lisa’s theory that his mind had already begun to reflect that of a human’s. Not just his mind’s capabilities, such as long-term memory, but every way that it thought.
Bath shifted form to a sparrow, then flew to the clouds, shifting to a hawk. He spent the next few hours enjoying the feeling of wind on his wings, trying to blot out his incipient fears.
Fear, he thought bleakley. Not a human emotion, but a foreign one.
✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽
After a few hours had passed, Bath returned to Ellis somewhat more refreshed than when he set out. The time was now past dinner, and his suitemates were all in the suite.
Perfect.
Bath was still in a relatively poor mood, so he welcomed the opportunity to do something...productive. He began a rather complex series of long-range manipulations, forming the figures of thumb-sized insects underneath the furniture and beds. Soon, he had a veritable army of pest look-alikes. He made a few fist-sized insects for good measure.
He smiled coldly. The boys dared think to impose democracy on the suite, as though the four of them were equals?
All at once, a torrent of insects burst forth. Though Bath wasn’t physically present in the suite, he could hear and see everything that happened through his little ears and eyes.
Accordingly, he saw the entire insect assault happen with perfect omniscience, enabling him to control his little insect extensions in the most fear-inducing way possible.
At first the boys tried to escape, rushing for the door, but Bath had already locked it with long-range manipulation. The door was immovable; even if they tried to break it down, which all three of them tried to do just one minute into the attack, it refused to budge. Then they had tried for the windows, which Bath hadn’t originally tried to bar, but he kept those locked by jamming their locks and reinforcing their glass.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
He sent his puppet insects into the food the boys had strewn about and into their drawers. He used them to toss about their papers and schoolwork, nibble on their textbooks, and even sent the insects rushing into the boys' clothes and hair. He considered sending the insect extensions up the boys' orifices, but dismissed the idea as being just a step too far.
✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽
Bath’s smile remained perfectly fixed, the kind of small, self-assured smile one would imagine the devil wears as he watches the world burn.
He walked into the suite after only five minutes.
Bath smiled. “You all seem rather out of sorts,” he observed callously. They were shaking, appearing as though they had fought off against a legion of monsters from the depths of hell. Bath noted with disgust that two of them, Matt and Jake, had soiled their pants. Even though their bodies must have been itching wildly—he had laced his insects with mild poison—the boys remained fairly motionless.
Were insects really that frightening to humans? He'd only let the attack run for five minutes, anyways. Snorting to himself, Bath continued his mental assault.
“Didn’t I warn all of you what would happen if the suite became messy?” Bath said icily, a cruel smile appearing over his features.
I may be inexperienced with human emotions, Bath thought to himself, but I’m no novice in the art of instilling fear. Bath had agreed with Lisa’s assessment that the best plan of action was to frighten his suitemates. He hadn’t quite followed through with her more...conservative plan of action, though. He considered what he was doing now as practice for when he and Lisa eventually intimidated world leaders into submission under Lisa’s world democracy plan.
He continued waiting for the boys to respond. The three didn’t seem to register what he had said before, their faces still reeling in shock, so Bath began speaking again.
“You all wanted a democracy, and voted in favor of living in the style of pigs,” Bath said, his voice saccharine, his eyes frighteningly cold.
“I hope this unfortunate mishap will make you all realize the errors of your ways,” Bath added. “I'm going to take it upon myself now to remake the rules as I see fit. For the good of us all. Do you understand?”
The three boys, having only met Bath days ago, and were utterly shocked by their supposed suite mate’s words and manner of address. They were the ones usually in power, at the top of the social hierarchy. And yet, here they were, cowering, and not from the insects. No, they cowered because of him. They instinctively faltered before his predatory gait, the way he loomed over them. They wanted to avert their eyes from his own, but couldn’t, as though he was holding them captive with his eyes alone.
“Do whatever you want,” Dean croaked, his voice parched and sandpapery. “Whatever.”
Bath sighed. “I'm not trying to give you all PTSD,” he stated. “Let’s just all promise to keep this place clean, quiet, and comfortable.”
If his manner before had terrified the boys into paralysis, this switch to normalcy nearly caused them to faint. Jake at once ran for the door, fumbling with the knob, then rushed to the bathroom. All was silent: his retching could be heard for the next minute, unbroken by conversation. Bath stared calmly on at the other two as he took a seat on the couch and opened up a textbook. Matt and Dean remained fixed in place like statues.
“You can move,” Bath remarked absently as he turned a page. As though a spell was broken, the two boys keeled over. Matt hastily ran to join Jake in the bathroom.
Dean looked up at Bath. He remained silent for a good period of time, then spoke.
“Who are you, really?”
Bath grinned. “Bath.”
Dean looked away and shook his head in disbelief, mumbling “Fuck; what are you?”
The grin only widened. Bath looked up, meeting the eyes of the boy who was brave enough to ask questions after all that had happened and strong enough to keep his dignity in the face of the insect army and Bath’s rather demonic entrance.
“I think I could grow to rather like you, Dean.” How unexpected.
Bath looked down again and continued reading. Dean slowly rose to his feet, turned away, went into his room, and locked the door behind him.