Luna’s ironsight found its target far down below, by the treeline. It was still unusual to her just how far she could see, as the line of vision remained unobscured by the green flecks of algae. There, a white, hairy critter - about the size of a thincrab, leapt in a sluggish pace, chewing on patches of grass.
Logan stood with his arms crossed behind her, staring further to the north than where Luna was training her gun.
More than once, he had let his eyes stray to her black pants and let his mind run rampant with his recent memories of helping her out of her wet clothing. It hadn’t been proper - looking her over in her unconscious state. Still, he had done it and knew that, by long, he’d have to clear the air from his sins.
But more than her body, he was amazed by the way she had integrated with the symbiote - without ever being aware of it. The effects were as obvious to him as her red eyes were, yet she hadn’t taken note of how it had improved her senses. Then again, the depths had a way of limiting just how many of one’s senses could be utilized.
A gust of wind blew through the air and with it, Luna pressed the trigger - sending a bullet propelling down the slope. She could even see the bullet - not well, but she saw something move through the air, its trajectory curving in the wind before it struck the little beast.
Logan turned his binoculars to verify that the white body lay still and dead in the grass. “Impressive. You’ve learned in a day what I learned in three months.” She turned over her shoulder to see that he wasn’t staring through his binoculars anymore - he was staring at her. Or rather, her back - down low on her back.
Curiously, she did not hate the feeling. She was used to people stealing glances at her - what woman wasn’t? It had disgusted her when Menta had done it and when the elderly Logoruum had done it. But this man… he was different. He didn’t mean anything with it - he didn’t convey any desire nor maliciousness with his stone-faced gaze; perhaps it was due to the mask itself that she felt so calm about him.
He eventually broke from his staring to catch her raised, judging brow and the playful smirk - a stark contrast to when they had set out the morning, when she had seemed as hostile as the day before.
She looked back along the gun and moved the ironsight to look at the small lake. A few trees sparsely decorated a hanging mire. Moss had grown in from the sides - nearly elevating the pool to the next stages of succession. She hadn’t seen many stagnant pools of water, but even she could see that something was off with it - that the color of the water, itself, appeared… oddly. Red. As she stared, she could see something writhe along the surface, barely visible at first, before it contorted the surface only to die down a moment later.
In silence, she continued to stare at the oasis in the midst of the granite landscape, finally noticing a bump in the area - a pair of stacked, gray slabs with a door leading into what appeared to be a room no wider than Logan’s beast.
“It’s the power-station. The creep has spread into the water… I’ve seen it before. I think it does it to regulate the temperature - the hive can get warm, especially since the generators are still running down there. Heat, cold and humidity - good conditions to grow a Behemoth.” He mumbled more than informed. It made sense to her - it matched what she had read in the ancient, reprinted scriptures in her room.
“Like a growbed?” She asked. Nodding, he added: “Or a womb.”
Continuing, he went on: “You’re learned. Intelligent. As expected from a child of Logos… a shame I didn’t get to you before.” He chuckled, only to be met with a moment’s ponderous silence.
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“Are we really that different? The boys, Ethel and the rest of the Anza stationeers seem nice…”
He nodded into his binoculars. “They are. And yes, you’re different in a lot of manners. Where the Logoruum worship machines, systems and learning, the Bravellians worship Humanity. Having lived up here for all this time, they’ve adapted to idolizing warriors and combat. You’ll sometimes hear them talk about Heresy, which is the breaking of tenets of survival - food rationing and the likes. Habits and actions that’d compromise a sealed-off town.”
She looked away from the gun to stare up at his dark profile. “You talk as if you’re not one of them. What are you, then? Why do you know so much about the Logoruum?” He returned the binoculars to his pocket and bowed his head before touching his mask.
“I’m a Ghast. A monster hunting monsters. That’s all.” The answer left her dissatisfied, as did his turning towards the sleeping hound.
“You sure ask a lot of questions, but you’re good at not answering the ones I ask you.” She muttered, shouldering her rifle.
“If I gave you all my secrets, what’s there to keep you around? At this rate, you’ll learn all that I can teach you in a week.” He chuckled and reached into a pack on Zeke’s harness to produce more packs of paper-packed meats.
She crossed her arms sternly. A gust of wind blew her hair back over her shoulders as she accused: “That’s not it… you’re hiding something. If you don’t wanna tell me what that is, that’s fine. But at least tell me what you know about the Logoruum. Are there any still alive up here?”
He was quick to shake his head and extend a pack in her direction. “No. Not really. Not that I’ve found - you’re the first I ever met. As for your other question, there are remnants of you here.” She grabbed the pack and began to unwrap it - slabs of dry, treated meat made her mouth water as she looked at it.
He raised a hand to the northeast and went on to explain: “There’s a big ruin in that direction. The biggest hive in the sector - one of seven Majors left in Cradle. The ones we see here are coming from there.” She turned to look to the lowlands, seeing nothing but green grass and twinkling rivers. He continued: “I’ve been there… there’s still a lot of books left in the ruins. But it needs to be destroyed… the Purge’s forces had to prioritize containing it and pushed outwards to cleanse the Behemoths. It was the right choice, but it’s still hindering free travel around here. And it’s causing those.” He raised a thumb over his shoulder to point in the direction of the lake.
She bit into the meat and felt its succulent flavors spread over her tongue; biting her lip was all she could do not to moan with pleasure at the taste.
“We’ll destroy that hive. I came back here to do it when I heard your scream. Now that I’ve found you, that’s what we’re doing.”
“What is a hive?” She spoke with a mouth full of meat. He had awaited the question.
“It’s hard to explain… it’s a massive construct where the Monstrum settle down. The entire area is covered in creep - a billion eyes staring at you as you walk into it. Thousands of embryonic sacs gestate all types of horrors - things your wildest nightmares couldn’t even begin to manifest. Walls of flesh reach out for you, seeking to wrap you into the unending fields of humans serving as their slaves. If you’ve ever heard of Hell, that’s as close as you’ll get to it.”
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry from the salt. By the sound of it, she’d already been in a hive and, judging by the tone of his voice and the stillness of his stare… he knew it.
“How are you going to destroy it?” She said, reaching out to grab the bottle of water from his belt. He allowed the thievery and crossed his arms to stare back at the lake.
“I’m not sure. But I will… I always do.”
She drank a greedy gulp of what she thought to be water, only to find her mouth and throat burning with a familiar sensation. She had to admit, it wasn’t a bad combo. She blinked several times before glancing down at the flask. A black, square thing, covered in what had to be thousands of straight, small scratches. It was a count, by the looks of it - nearly covering the entire container. Without addressing the curious object, she continued to question the living lexicon of terror: “These humans - what are they being used for? You said they were slaves.”
He drew a deep breath, pondering how to properly word it. “There’s some things the Monstrum can’t do. Digestion’s one of them. They’ll force-feed humans to digest whatever they find and siphon the nutrients from their intestines through blood-vessels grown into their flesh. We’re a precious resource to them - that’s why you make sure they don’t capture you alive.” The horrors of Sitalii flashed before her eyes; the humans suspended from the ceiling in plexuses of vessels bored through their skin. In an attempt to flush away the images of dread, she raised the flask to her mouth and took another swig of the fiery fluids.
“Good stuff…”