Day two at Skyfall. My first class!
After a wash at the gym and quick salad bar breakfast in the student council lounge, I arrived ahead of time to Dr. Greyfield's early morning Advanced Xenobiology, sliding into a seat near the front of the lab, expecting to be asked to introduce myself.
The classroom was a curious mix of modern Omnid magitech, mundane tools and vintage scientific equipment. Gleaming meta-flesh brain-in-jar processors sat next to brass microscopes that looked older than the school itself.
The Dover Demon-Human hybrid teacher was already in his office, puttering around with various beakers and specimens. His wispy white hair caught the morning light, making his pale grey skin look almost translucent. The special tinted glasses he wore did little to hide the red glow of his eyes as he hummed to himself, organizing slides with his long, spindly fingers.
Other students began filtering in. A purple Tanystropheus had to duck her long neck to get through the door.
A massive Sasquatch in a varsity jacket squeezed through the door, his brown fur neatly groomed. He high-fived a green-scaled Basilisk wearing designer sunglasses as he passed.
A pair of Thunderbirds swooped in through the window, their black and white feathers gleaming as they landed gracefully by their desks. Behind them, a Skinwalker shifted from wolf to human-ish form mid-stride, her silver hair settling around her shoulders as she took her seat.
The room filled with a cacophony of sounds - scales rustling, wings folding, claws clicking against desks, and the low rumble of morning conversations.
A Stollwurm girl rolled in on a large wheelchair, dark grey-blue scales almost entirely hidden under a dark, fingerless gloves, a thick hunting camo jacket's hood and oversized, dark WW2 aviator's goggles.
More students continued to file in as I pretended to review my textbook, while pointing my AI's camera at everyone nearby, learning their names and cryptitypes.
A Cherufe with magma-like skin stomped to her desk, leaving faint scorch marks on the floor.
Two Jersey Devils swooped in through the landing balcony window, their leathery wings folding as they came in. Their hooves clicked against the tile floor as they made their way to their seats, forked tails swishing. One was wearing a letterman jacket, the other had multiple piercings in his bat-like ears.
A Kelpie girl ran in, her watery mane flowing like a living waterfall down her neck. Water droplets fell from her hair with each step, but evaporated before hitting the ground. She took her seat near the front.
A few seconds before class began, the door slammed open with a bang, making several students jump. Cinder stormed in, her silver feathers ruffled and shifting through various shades of agitated dark gray. Her combat boots thundered against the floor as she made her way to her desk, the chains on her plaid skirt jingling with each step.
She dropped into the seat with enough force to make the metal legs screech against the tile. The Violet Floyd logo on her black top rippled as she slumped forward, burying her face in her arms with a groan that sounded distinctly un-morning-person-like.
Then, inexplicably, red warning siren lights began flashing across the classroom. Heavy blast doors slid down over the windows with pneumatic hisses, sealing us in.
"Good morning, class!" Dr. Greyfield called out cheerfully, emerging from his office, as if sudden lockdown procedures were perfectly normal. He adjusted his tinted glasses.
"Morning Dr. Grey," the class groaned in discordant voices.
"Excellent, excellent!" Dr. Greyfield beamed. "Today we'll be continuing our study of interdimensional parasites. But first..." He gestured to me. "We have a new student joining us! Alexander Glock, would you mind introducing yourself?"
I channelled 100% of my practiced NPC-greeting energy and marched to the front of the class not looking at a certain pair of sky-blue eyes near the back.
I raised my imaginary glock and fired it into the ceiling to jump start my speech.
"Hey Guys!" My voice boomed confidently across the science classroom. "I'm Alexander Glock. I'm a photographer and artist from North Acadia. Want a sketch of your imaginary best friend or a photo of yourself, looking extra smashing? Bug me after class, let's trade Omnigrams!” A wink with a tongue click. Perfect. And now for a nerdy interjection. “Not interested in photography or art? I’m always looking for new friends to play deathmatch checkers or chess with at lunch. Dare to defeat me and win a free lunch. Cheers!"
I concluded and shot finger guns at everyone and accidentally looked at the angel staring at me and froze like an idiot again forgetting how to breathe.
Defcon 1! Retreat! Do not engage with dangerous winged female entity!
"Most fascinating!" Dr. Greyfield clapped his hands together, ignoring the sinking ship of my NPC persona. "We don't get many Hominull Omnithis in our Academy. In fact, you're our first this year! Why, it reminds me of the time I was conducting research in the Arctic and met a delightful human scientist with a flamethrower who..." He trailed off for a second. "...who had quite the innovative approach to dealing with shapeshifting parasites.”
The class groaned, clearly not enjoying the doc's ranting.
"Much like Kurt Russell in that fascinating 1982 documentary about Antarctic research stations. Though of course, the real organism was far more interesting than what the tube portrayed. The cellular mimicry process alone was..." He caught himself starting to ramble. "But that's a story for another time! Please take your seat, Mr. Glock."
I stood frozen at the front of the class, trying to force my feet to cooperate. This wasn't supposed to happen, damn it! How was she doing this?
What sort of dark arts could...
Dr. Greyfield's thick glasses reflected the fluorescent lights as he peered at me expectantly.
"Ah, of course..." The man pondered and snapped his fingers. "We need to find you a lab partner, Mr. Glock! Someone who can help you catch up with our current unit on alien parasites and electromagnetic fields..."
My heart rate spiked as his gaze settled on the back corner of the room.
"Ms. Nova! You've been working alone this semester since you murdered your last partner far too many times for reasonability. Perhaps you could assist our new student?"
WHAT? No, this wasn't supposed to happen! The idea was to take her in small doses, to adapt to her rainbow-winged witchcraft and...
In the back corner, Cinder's eyes narrowed dangerously. She slouched further in her chair, the silver metal skull of her choker catching the light.
"Perfect!" Dr. Greyfield beamed, completely missing (or choosing to ignore) Cinder's obvious displeasure. "Mr. Glock, please take the seat next to Ms. Nova."
My brain went into full panic mode:
[ABORT MISSION! ABORT MISSION!
ERROR 404: WALKING.EXE NOT FOUND
CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE
REBOOTING...
REBOOTING...
FATAL ERROR: PROXIMITY TO GOTH ANGEL EXCEEDS SAFE PARAMETERS!]
I managed to move my legs somehow, though it felt like walking through molasses. Each step toward the back of the classroom was a new adventure in not tripping over my own feet.
My internal monologue was having a complete meltdown:
Oh god oh god oh god what do I do what do I say don't look at her wings don't look at her wings don't look at her- DAMN IT I LOOKED AT HER WINGS they're so pretty why are they so pretty this isn't cool, this isn't-
I somehow made it to the desk without having a complete nervous breakdown, though it was a close call. As I approached, Cinder was slouched in her chair like the personification of teenage apathy, one elbow propped on the desk with her chin resting on her palm.
I caught a whiff of cigarette smoke and something else - ozone maybe? Like the air before a storm.
"Sup?" She asked with a scoff. I could practically hear her internal monologue painted on her elongated, inhuman yet incredibly photogenic face: 'Great. You again, you effin’ dullard. Of course I get stuck with the only nullie in this entire school.'
She looked me up and down with the kind of disdain usually reserved for moldy cafeteria food.
"H-hi!" I squeaked, my voice cracking like a 13-year-old hitting puberty.
Smooth. Real smooth.
I sat down, accidentally knocking over my backpack and spilling its contents across the floor. As I scrambled to gather my stuff, I could feel Cinder's annoyed gaze.
Great first impression, Alex. Really nailing that cool, mysterious new kid vibe. What vibe was I even going for with Cinder? I didn't expect to sit next to her nor interact with her so soon!
As I collected my scattered belongings not staring up at her, Cinder let out an exaggerated sigh. "Wow. You're just a walking disaster, aren't you?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Please tell me you at least know which end of a magnet is which."
I grabbed my last pencil from under the desk, trying to ignore how my face was burning. "I, uh, yeah. West and East, right?" I tried to sound sarcastic, but it came off as incredibly stupid.
"Slayer Nazareth!" she rolled her eyes. "We're actually going to die in a tragic lab accident because someone doesn't know basic physics." She turned to Dr. Greyfield. "Hey, doc! Can I get a partner who won't get us both killed on the first day?"
"Now, now, Ms. Nova," Dr. Greyfield called back cheerfully, already setting up what looked suspiciously like a containment field generator. "Death is just the beginning of a great adventure! Everyone deserves a chance to learn! Besides, your previous three lab partners all transferred out to my other period in the evening after various... incidents. Perhaps a fresh perspective is exactly what you need!"
"Ughhhh," Cinder groaned. "I don't wanna rip his bracelet from his dead wrist and walk all the way down to the basement. It smells like wet dog, rotting meat and old cheese down there!"
According to the Aztec Codex Borbonicus, precognition was a known Quetzalcoatl ability. I gulped.
"Teaching others is the best way to learn, Ms. Nova! I'm sure that you and Mr. Glock will make excellent partners and revive each other plenty of times! Go on now, immerse yourself in the exciting world of science!"
Dr. Greyfield flipped a switch, and a shimmering hologram materialized in the center of the room. The image showed what looked like a large, leathery egg with wavy, biomechanical patterns etched across its surface.
"Now then, class," Dr. Greyfield began, circling the hologram with an excited gleam in his red eyes. "Today we'll be examining the reproductive cycle of the Xenomorf Electricus - a fascinating species I encountered during my research expedition to Earth-2891. Unlike its cousin species made famous by that delightful documentary series from the late 1970s, this particular variant has developed quite the interesting relationship with electromagnetic fields."
“Guess you’re stuck with me,” I tried to look past Cinder.
“Uh-huh. So... photographer and artist, huh?” She somehow intercepted my eyes. “And a chess champion too? Wow, you're just the complete package aren't you?" Was she mocking me? "Tell me, do you also rescue puppies and help old ladies cross the street in your spare time?”
I wanted to glare at her but this would put me straight in brain-shutdown territory.
"And that introduction? 'Want a sketch of your imaginary best friend?'" She mimicked my voice in an exaggerated, deep tone. "Could you be any more of a try-hard? What are you, some kind of walking PSA about how to be the perfect student?"
I felt my face burning as she continued, "Also, nothing says 'I'm desperate for friends' quite like bribing people with food." She twirled a pencil between her dark-clawed pearlescent fingers. "Let me guess - you practiced that whole speech in front of a mirror this morning, didn't you?" Cinder's smirk widened, revealing sharp teeth. "Bet you even did the finger guns and everything."
My carefully constructed Alex persona cracked slightly, irritation seeping through.
She was reading me like an open book and it was... unsettling. I needed to regain control of the situation. I wouldn't be defeated by the Queen of Sarcasm over here.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
"Actually," I said, forcing my voice to match her tone, "I practiced it in front of my imaginary best friend. She gave me seventeen thumbs up and a wink of one thousand and sixty seven of her eyes."
Cinder chortled with a tiniest of "Pfff", clearly having underestimated my sarcasm power level. For a brief moment, I saw the ghost of an actual smile flicker across her face before she caught herself and resumed her usual 'you're an inferior species' scowl.
"Please begin setting up your electromagnetic field generators. And remember - if you see any temporal anomalies, do NOT make eye contact with your past self. The paradox paperwork is absolutely dreadful!" Dr. Greyfield rattled out in the background like some kind of an over-the-top science-fiction mad genius protagonist.
"I've already got enough detention without some newbie screwing up the dissection," Cinder muttered. "Just... don't touch anything without asking first, okay?"
I nodded quietly, pulling out the worksheet and keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the paper. The magnetic field diagrams suddenly became the most fascinating things in existence.
Definitely not sneaking sideways glances at the rainbows Cinder was casting in my vicinity.
Focus. Science. Magnets. Not the way her hair-feathers spilled forward and sparked like prismatic gems when she leaned forward to adjust the generator.
"Pass me that copper wire," she commanded, holding out her hand without looking at me. "The thinner gauge one."
I carefully selected the correct wire, making sure our fingers didn't brush as I handed it over. My heart stuttered again.
Focus! Understand! Adapt!
She clearly thought I was an idiot, and here I was getting flustered over basic lab work and only reinforcing the 'idiot' persona.
As we filled out the worksheets in silence, I kept my responses minimal, mostly nodding or giving one-word answers when Cinder bothered to acknowledge my existence. The quiet was... not exactly comfortable, but less awkward than my earlier verbal fumbling.
Dr. Greyfield was at the front of the class, enthusiastically explaining something about magnetic poles while gesturing with what appeared to be a half-eaten sandwich he'd forgotten he was holding.
Talking to Cinder was impossible, and she would not let me do anything in terms of generator assembly, so I flipped to a blank page in my Omnimart sketchbook and began sketching, my pencil moving almost unconsciously across the paper.
Dr. Greyfield's distinctive silhouette took shape - his wispy hair, the glint of his thick glasses, the sandwich gesturing wildly as he explained magnetic theory. I added little details - the way his lab coat seemed to float slightly when he got excited, the faint glow around his eyes visible even through the tinted lenses.
I added the speech bubble, carefully lettering "It was a ruse! The parasite was inside you all along!”
Suddenly, I felt a presence over my shoulder. My heart skipped several beats as Cinder leaned closer and examined the sketch.
"Heh. That's... actually pretty good." Her voice was different - softer.
A strand of her silver feather-hair brushed my shoulder as she studied the drawing, sending tingles down my spine.
I quickly added more details, trying to distract myself from her proximity - a flesh-spider sleeping on his head and the sandwich in his hand now sporting tiny tentacles.
“Eh, just a basic portrait sketch. S'aight,” I shrugged.
Not as good as forging an entire school's worth of transcripts, or creating fake housing documents, or making a convincing Housing Commission ID badge copied from their website in exact dimensions with a very fine marker while sitting in a smelly, rust-pitted van next to a truck pit stop.
I remained silent like a stone gargoyle, letting my pencil do its thing.
On the empty page next to Dr. Greyfield, I started sketching Cinder - not as she was, but as a dramatic, simplified caricature. Her combat boots became massive and covered in spikes, stomping through a field of twisted corpses. Her wings were spread dramatically against a background of burning buildings and apocalyptic ruins. The speech bubble proclaimed: "Rawr! I'm a goth-Quetzi, fear my boots of doom!"
I felt her presence over my shoulder again, closer this time. There was a sharp intake of breath.
"WHAT THE-" Cinder snatched the sketchbook, her eyes widening before narrowing dangerously. Her wings fluttered slightly as she studied the sketch, her expression cycling through several emotions too quickly for me to read.
“Sheet. Wait… Do you have more art in here?”
Before I could stop her, she began flipping through the sketchbook pages, her eyes gleaming with curious violet sparks as she scanned each drawing with increasing intensity. My heart stopped as I realized what she was seeing - my entire journey documented in quick sketches and observations.
The Igopogo Border Guard with notes about his badge number. The weathered face of Mr. Peterson with annotations about his nervous habits. The purple-haired Chupacabra barista from Omnibucks, complete with observations about their schedule and tendency to take smoke breaks.
Page after page of faces, each accompanied by hastily scribbled notes about personalities, routines, weaknesses. Vice Principal’s slender frame sketched in detail. Christi's bouncing enthusiasm captured in flowing lines with flames dancing atop of her head.
I quickly snatched the sketchbook back before Cinder could reach the more incriminating pages, my heart pounding.
"Oi, don’t just steal my things,” I said.
Cinder squinted at me.
“It’s just practice sketches," I mumbled, shoving the book deep into my backpack.
"Those were... detailed." Her voice carried a hint of suspicion. "Really detailed. Like, creepy-stalker-serial-killer vibe detailed."
"Personality traits outlines relevant to portrait expressions, an exercise from my old school. Nothing special,” I lied.
There. Smooth-ish. Could have been better if my mouth didn't feel like it was filled with cotton. I shrugged, trying to channel maximum NPC-student energy. "Gotta train those art muscles, you know. Use em or lose em."
"Hrm..." She paused. "You got everyone's expressions exactly right. And their little habits. Say, what were all those numbers next to everyone's portraits? And those weird symbols and letters? Looked like some kind of code."
My heart rate spiked. The numbers - vulnerability ratings, schedule timings, probability calculations for various scenarios and how similarly-behaving people could be overcome, bamboozled, scammed, derailed in just the right way.
"Oh, those?" I forced a casual laugh. "Just... basic composition notes. Rule of thirds stuff. Basic art measurements." I waved my hand vaguely. "You know, proportions, lighting notes, time of day when the sketch was made, and... other art things."
"Art things?" Cinder repeated flatly, tilting her head.
"So... did you like your portrait?" I asked, desperately trying to change the subject. "I think I really captured your brooding angst. The field of corpses really brings out your eyes."
Cinder's suspicious expression flickered for a moment, replaced by something between annoyance and amusement. “My boots ain’t that big.”
"Oh really?" I glanced pointedly at her tall, multi-laced combat boots. "Those things could crush a small car.”
"They're effin’ practical!" She defended, her wings puffing up slightly. "At least I don't look like I raided a Omnimart student-outfits rack!”
I winced internally at her accidental accuracy. "Hey, white button-ups are classic. Unlike that..." I gestured vaguely at her all-black ensemble, "Hot Topic explosion you've got going on."
Wait. I was talking to her without crashing? Progress!
Cinder's eyes flashed dangerously at my comment. Her wings spread slightly in an intimidating display. "At least I have my own style instead of looking like some corporate drone reject," she snapped. "What's next, gonna tell me that smoking is bad? Maybe lecture me about my life choices like everyone else?"
My mouth itched to tell her exactly how smoking would kill her - not just the obvious lung cancer, but the slow deterioration of every system in her body. How the tar would coat her airways like black paint, making each breath harder until she was gasping like a fish on land. How the chemicals would eat away at her stomach lining, turn her teeth yellow, make her beautiful feathers brittle and dull. How the nicotine would rewire her brain, making her a slave to those cancer sticks until they finally finished their job.
I wanted to tell her about watching mom waste away in that hospital bed, each breath a struggle, until finally...
No. I wasn't going to shatter in my first class.
I reminded myself that Omnids didn't die from cancer, that the rich fuckers had Lazarus bracelets and hoarded all sorts of other life-saving magitech tools stolen from other dimensions.
I turned away, forcing my hands to unclench under the desk.
I focused on Dr. Greyfield, who was now enthusiastically explaining how magnetic fields could theoretically be used to create a time machine "if only the ethics board would stop being so fussy about temporal paradoxes!"
"Whatever," Cinder muttered beside me. "Just don't eff up the work. I'm not getting another detention because some nitwit can't tell positive from negative."
The doctor moved from station to station, examining each setup. When he reached our table, he beamed at the our equipment.
"Excellent work, Ms. Nova! And Mr. Glock, I see you've managed to avoid creating any space-time anomalies so far. Wonderful progress!"
"That's cus he hasn't touched anything yet," Cinder muttered under her breath.
. . .
"Time's up! Now let's check those field generators! Remember, proper calibration is essential!" The professor boomed from his corner. "A working generator will pacify the parasite while one that fails will potentially result in you getting infested and dying horribly!"
The class muttered.
"Everyone please collect your assigned specimen from the cold storage room," Dr. Greyfield called out cheerfully. "And do hurry - they defrost rather quickly!"
"I'll get our egg," Cinder declared. "You'll probably drop it or something."
"I can help-" I started to offer.
"No. Just. Stay. Here." She pointed at my chair firmly. "And don't touch anything. Don't move, don't breathe, don't anything."
I watched her stalk off to join the line of students.
Cinder returned quickly, having elbowed her way to the front. She was balancing a leathery, bio-mechanical egg roughly the size of her head. Her wings half-spread for balance as she carefully placed it on our desk.
"Alright," she muttered, adjusting the generator's settings per instructions floating above the holographic egg on the teacher's desk. "Let's get this bullshit over with."
Our egg pulsed faintly with an inner light, its surface covered in intricate patterns that seemed to shift and flow like liquid metal. As Cinder activated our electromagnetic field generator, the patterns began to glow brighter, responding to the magnetic field.
"Now then!" Dr. Greyfield called out excitedly. "Please take your magisteel dissection knives - carefully now, they can easily cut through your fingers once you pour enough mana into them - and make a precise incision along the egg's dorsal ridge. The electromagnetic field should keep the specimen dormant during dissection."
I watched as Cinder wielded her blade, its sharp edge gleaming.
Around us, other students were performing their own dissections with varying degrees of success. The Tanystropheus was having trouble maneuvering her long neck to see properly, while the Sasquatch's massive hands proved surprisingly delicate with the blade.
Cinder stabbed the knife into the egg with a wide, energetic swing and it got stuck halfway in it. She tried to pry it out but the knife seemed to be lodged deep in the egg. She held the egg down on the dissection plate with her left hand and pulled harder with her right, growling under her breath. After a few seconds of a struggle, the knife came free, her leather jacked slipping down her shoulders from the motion.
"I think you have to pour mana into it and adjust the blade's size to a smaller one," I pointed out, somewhat distracted by the overhead lights and generator glow-cast reflections dancing across the iridescent tiny down feathers and scales around her shoulders area and lower down.
"Nobody asked for your commentary, dweeb," Cinder sent me a murderous scowl. "And before you ask, no, I'm not giving you the knife. Also, quit staring at my chest unless you want me to start dissecting you instead of this stupid egg."
I quickly averted my gaze, face burning. "I wasn't- I mean, I was just-"
"Save it," she cut me off, turning back to the egg. Her feathers shifted through various shades of irritated red as she concentrated, pouring mana into the blade. The knife began to glow with a faint purple light, the excessive length folding down into the handle, the edge becoming much thinner and sharper.
The dissection was suddenly interrupted by a sudden shriek from across the room. The Kelpie's electromagnetic field generator had sparked and died with a pathetic whine, possibly because her watery mane got into the wiring accidentally.
"Oh dear me," Dr. Greyfield said mildly, as if commenting on slightly overcast weather rather than imminent disaster. He dug behind his desk, pulling out what looked like an oversized, dark gun.
The creature that leapt out from the Kelpie’s egg was a nightmare of bio-mechanical horror - part spider, part octopus, with metallic segments glinting between patches of iridescent chitin. Electricity arced between its legs as it rapidly scuttled across the desk.
"Nobody panic!" Dr. Greyfield called out cheerfully. "I have a railgun! Just remember - they can smell fear! And also electromagnetic fields. And sometimes existential dread and true love!"
The Kelpie scrambled backwards, her watery mane splashing in panic as the creature launched itself at her face. She barely managed to dodge, leaving the parasite to skitter up the wall, trailing sparks.
The parasite rushed across the ceiling as Dr. Greyfield took aim with his railgun. The class erupted into chaos - students diving under desks, wings flaring, metal chains rattling.
"Don't panic!" Dr. Greyfield called out cheerfully firing the gun with a deafening blast.
"Project your inner Omnid predator, everyone!" Dr. Greyfield called out, taking another shot that left a smoking hole in the ceiling. "It's seeking the weakest member of the herd to latch onto!"
The creature paused its frantic scuttling, electric arcs crackling between its legs as it seemed to assess the room. Several students straightened up, baring fangs, opening wings, or flexing claws. The Sasquatch let out a low growl, while the Basilisk's eyes began to glow ominously.
I tried my best to look intimidating, which probably came across about as threatening as an angry kitten compared to my classmates' display of natural weapons.
Beside me, Cinder's wings spread to their full impressive span, igniting with eye-watering, pretty colors.
The parasite skittered uncertainly, clearly reconsidering its choices in life as it faced a room full of apex predators. Then its compound eyes fixed on me.
Of course. The one person in the room who couldn't project actual predator energy on the account of not having any cryptid blood.
The creature launched itself at me with terrifying speed, metal legs clicking against the ceiling tiles. I had just enough time to think "oh shi-" before something very colorful and feathered slammed into me, knocking me sideways.
I hit the floor hard as Cinder tackled me out of the way, her wings wrapping around us both like a protective cocoon. The parasite sailed through the space where my head had been moments before.
"Stay down!" she hissed in my ear, her feathers shifting through a million colors.
There was a deafening CRACK as Dr. Greyfield's railgun fired again. The parasite exploded in a shower of chitin and sparks, raining tiny bio-mechanical parts across the classroom.
"Excellent reflexes, Ms. Nova!" Dr. Greyfield called out cheerfully. "Five extra credit points for protecting your lab partner! Though next time, perhaps try to avoid crushing your the electromagnetic field generator in the process?"
I became acutely aware of several things at once:
1. Cinder was still basically on top of me
2. Her wings were still wrapped around us both
3. She smelled like ozone and lavender and something else I couldn't identify
4. My heart was trying to escape through my throat
5. Our faces were WAY too close together
"Uh..." I squeaked eloquently. "Thanks."
Cinder's eyes widened as she seemed to realize our position. She scrambled back like I'd burned her, her feathers leaking color and shifting through several shades of blue-gray.
"Argh," she muttered. "Of course the parasite went for you - might as well have painted a target on your back with that useless attempt at looking tough. Do you have literally zero Omnid blood in you or something? How are you so effin’ pathetic? Even my last lab partner wasn't this freaking incompetent!”
I sighed.
"I mean, look at you!" she continued, gesturing at my outfit. "Even your clothes scream 'eat me, I'm prey.' At least try to look like you belong here instead of some lost human tourist who wandered into the Academy by mistake!"
Wow, way to out me.
As if on cue, our own half-dissected egg began to twitch, its patterns pulsing with alarming intensity.
Of course. Our electromagnetic field generator lay in pieces on the floor, knocked over during Cinder's heroic tackle.
"Fuuuu…" Cinder breathed, her criticism forgotten as the egg's metallic segments unfolded like a murderous origami creation, the thing from its innards propelling itself towards my face.
Her leap wasn't fast enough to save me this time around.
The creature's bio-mechanical appendages latched onto my face before I could even scream. White-hot agony exploded behind my eyes as something needle-sharp punched through my right eyeball and into my brain. The world dissolved into colorful fractals of pain and electric sparks as alien thoughts that demanded me to consume all organic life invaded my consciousness.
The last thing I heard was Cinder shouting something that sounded like a curse, and Dr. Greyfield's cheerful "Oh dear, not again!"