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sexy character concept to me: liars who lie & perform and when they are told to stop performing they start lying in a different way and you try to get to the bottom of the layers upon layers of half-truths to find The Truth and when you think you’ve finally gotten to it it’s a blank piece of paper that says 404 not found

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aigo.. stupid rick spread... clobber him to death immediately 🔨💥🔨💥🔨💥

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“I-I…”

This moment in time was tender enough to be straight out of a romance novel. Mike holding his hand in his spiny claw oh so gently, calling him baby. Telling him that he couldn’t do this without him, that he needed him. Just imagining the two of them uniting to stand strong against their enemies, vowing to work together... To do their best… To align side by side and remake the infamous black hole portal device, to send Lizardperson back to the hell it came from once and for all… It was giving him butterflies.

Rick chewed his bottom lip in uncertainty, looking down at the claw clasping his comparatively squishy and frail human hand. Maybe the assassin was right. Maybe they could do this. Maybe they still had hope.

He looked up into those big ruby eyes, the ones that glittered like star maps. His gaze softened, affection shimmering in his blue orbs. Mike was so pretty, even in the harsh overhead lighting of this Federation hallway, even with the recently broken crooked nose and the freshly awarded bruises and scrapes that had yet to fully heal…

And then Rick squeezed the claw in his hand. Hard.

“N-no.”

His once loving expression turned sour in an instant, the humans mouth pulling in a deep frown, brows lowering in absolute fury.

“No! F-FUCK no!” He harshly rebutted, shaking his head in adamant refusal. Had Mike gone fucking insane?!

“W-what makes you think it’ll work this time around?! Huh?!” He questioned, narrowing his eyes and leaning in closer for emphasis. “I-III was too dumb to - to make it correctly in the first place wwwwith a brain that DIDN’T have holes! And you - you’re just going to trust that m-my broken brain matter in your head is e-enough?!”

Clearly, Rick didn’t have faith in any of his own inner workings, even the bits of genius buried deep in his inaccessible psyche that had been transferred in the mind meld. And why would he? The human was painfully aware of his own shortcomings.

“Even if w-we DID make it without being - being sucked into a nether dimension! M-maybe it would’ve worked if Lizardperson hadn’t - hadn’t evolved. M-maybe if Flannax didn’t become some venom addled CYBORG thing, w-wwwe could do it. But w-we can’t. We won’t!”

His voice accidentally raised in his impassioned state, as it tended to do. Rick forced himself to quiet back down into angry whisper-hissing, trying not to be overheard.

“Do y-you know what’s going to happen, M-Mike?! Because I do!” He continued his rant, sharply pointing behind them towards the grandiose oak door that served as the entryway to the war room. “Yyyyou’re going to walk back in there w-with all those fugly ass gromflomites a-and your old battle buddy slash fuck buddy Ken is going to set you up on a wet dream of revenge to go after needs-a-Xanax, a-aaand you’re going to fall for it! Hook line and sinker.”

At least, that’s what it sounded like Ken had been ramping up towards. And Rick was pretty sure he was right.

“Then y-you’re going to go after him with that stupid fucking knife so you can - s-so you can plunge it into his heart o-or whatever, a-aaand he’s going to kill! The! Living! SHIT out of you! Or m-make you wish that he did!”

Rick jutted his index finger and poked it into Mike’s chest a few times with each enunciation.

“And if y-you live — IF! Th-then Lizardperson will have had his way with you and - and bitten you again. And IF! W-we ever managed to rescue you, y-you’ll refuse Galax, a-aaand you’ll go Berserk — and if YOU don’t kill me and Amy, the thing that’ll burst out of your chest WILL!”

The human was so worked up that he was starting to turn flushed in the face and was panting slightly. Not from necessarily from exertion - mostly from the rising anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him.

“A-aaand it’ll all be my fucking fault b-because I was too weak and goddamn stupid to STOP you from charging into things head first and getting yourself hurt or killed, AGAIN!”

There were pinpricks of tears in the corners of his eyes now, but Rick didn’t break. He didn’t falter, he didn’t look away. He wouldn’t budge on this.

“I—! I-I can’t lose you. You’re all that I have. W-we should just be smart about this and leave!”

Continued from (X)

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“Oh! Oh, I-I’m sorry, were my priorities out of place?!” Rick whisper-yelled a retort, the sarcasm dripping from his hushed tone. “I-I’m SO sorry that I wasn’t keen on dragging you on a-aaa recovery mission to chase down a wounded knife-wielding PSYCHOPATH while you were in a drugged stupor a-aaand beaten to a pulp!”

Lest the gromflomite forget what sort of condition he left the prison ship in. Which had been arguably worse for wear than the first time around. Which was saying something. Flannax had done a number on him - and Lizardperson had finished him off.

“I-I’m sure that would’ve worked out reeeeal well w-when the withdrawls hit you!”

Now it was Rick’s turn to display obvious irritation. He huffed a sigh, grinding the meat of his palm into one of his temples like this whole thing was giving him a headache.

“Y-yyyyou think I don’t know h-how bad this is, Mike?! I-I mean — fuck! If they get to us, w-wuh-we’re both going to end up as PETS!” A fate worse than death, surely. “If th-the Feds find out about portal tech, th-they’ll torture us for the schematics no matter how chummy y-you get with their head honcho! N-not to mention, if the other me’s find out about this, they - they’ll mindwipe us BOTH or WORSE!”

The human was very much aware of the potential consequences to this massive fuckup. One might say agonizingly aware. Rick scrunched up his face into a contortion of pained thoughts. It was nothing but rocks and hard places in every direction, no matter where they turned!

There was only one logical option here. Mike had hit the nail on the head. The frazzled human took in a deep breath, one of the shaky ones that he tended to do under stress, and seemed to take a moment to forcibly collect himself despite the looming dread that hung over them both.

“You - you’re right, Mike.” Rick conceded, looking back up at him with a gaze that was sharp with determination. “W-we need to fix my portal gun and - aaand then we need to cut our losses. While we still can.”

His proposal might be a cowardly one, but even a mentally questionable interdimensional drug dealer had to bite the bullet and give up sometimes. This just so happened to be one of those very occasions.

“Think about it. We - we can go back to how things used to be! You, me — a-aaand Amy.” Okay, so not exactly like things had been before. The duo had moved through the multiverse as a couple to avoid being caught - unbeknownst to Rick, not just by the law or those the assassin angered with his mercenary work, but to avoid capture by the deranged Flannax himself. Now it would be the three of them, one big happy unit, doing the same thing all over again. “If w-we keep our heads down and move every time th-they start to catch up to us, we’ll stay ahead. Hopping from one dimension t-to another. Rick, Mike, and Amy, r-running around, getting into antics!”

Continued from (X)

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Be… be right back? Ken frowned. Didn’t Krombopulos hear what he had been on the cusp of saying? It should be clear to the defector that he, the Grand Leader, was on the precipice of an act of generosity and a controversial public display of trust. Bestowing an opportunity to take out the crazed ex-Commander that had wrought him harm, and to offer leadership in doing so, should have been something he would be enthusiastic about. “Mike. This is important.”

“So! Is! This!” The human snapped, hissing each word for emphasis. Ken better not try to get in their way! “C-c’mon, Mike. Babe. P-please. Now!”

“… Very well.” Kenneth relinquished, watching the pair make their - temporary - leave. The crystalline blade inserted into the a notch in the war room table promised their return. He watched the ragtag pair make for the door before turning around to face the screens with hands clasped behind his back, narrowing his eyes in suspicion at the freeze frame of Archibald and Lizardperson that had induced a distressed reaction from the human. Hmmmm…

Rick didn’t let go of Mike’s arm the entire time as he led them away, hurriedly following in his striding footsteps to a relatively quiet section of hallway in which they could manage to have a private conversation. A badly needed one.

“I-III never said it was destroyed! I s-said it was lost!” The human whisper-yelled back, eye to eye with the mercenary in close quarters. Who was clearly less than happy about what had been revealed. “I-III didn’t know he’d figure out how to USE it!”

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t been specific enough when describing the fate of the portal gun that had been foolishly brought along on the prison ship mission. Rick, once again, hadn’t necessarily lied, but hadn’t revealed the entire truth, either. Typical.

“D-don’t you dare try to pin the blame on me for this!” The human spat back with equal fury, refusing to take accountability for something that clearly wasn’t his fault. “I-III thought he w-would bleed out and die in some - in some dark ditch in a-aaa shitty dimension somewhere l-like the piece of shit he is! H-he was BLIND and his guts were everywhere, Mmmmike! H-how was I supposed to know h-he’d — he’d—?!”

Learn how to work the portal device? Utilize it to strengthen himself? Team up with the dreaded Lizardperson? Go on to carve a path of heinous murder and destruction that threatened to collapse their entire multiverse if left unchecked?!

“Th-THIS! THIS is w-why I wanted you to leave that stupid! Knife! Behind!”

Continued from (X)

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Krombopulos was not the only one present who reacted with an outcry of shock and dismay. Far from it. For the decorated Federation soldiers sitting at the table, it was utterly surreal to see one of their own at the helm of such crimes. It was no secret that there were many traitors to their faction in existence - but a traitor whom had held the Commander title and lived to tell the tale of being stripped of it? Who sought vengeance against their great empire and were succeeding?

Unheard of. To even suggest such a thing could be possible would be considered blasphemous. The Federation was always dutiful when it came to dealing with those who stepped out of line… but Flannax had been crafty enough to slip through the cracks. Or was just enough of an unkillable asshole to get away with it.

Flannax Archibald. A product of celebrated berserker lineage. Iron fisted leader of squadron 1182. Overseer of prison ship Zelta. Former Commander of the deserter turned assassin, the infamous Krombopulos Michael.

All eyes fixated on the mercenary as he took the floor, standing opposite of the Grand Leader across the table in a juxtaposition of equality that most lower tiered Federation members wouldn’t attempt. The others looked upon him with surprise, wariness, suspicion. What were the chances that it would be the traitors former Commander?

The only ones who weren’t glaring holes through him were Rick, who couldn’t pick his jaw up off the ground, and a rattled looking Quz.

“My glob…” The old Commander breathed, his voice barely audible as he took in the harrowing sight of deranged Flannax, who had once stood at his side in battle. Who had grown in the ranks alongside him since they had been chosen as star soldiers. Each picture that flashed by of him with the beast exposed more and more of just how lost he was. The deep indents of tooth marks in his shoulder, the haze of madness clouding his eyes, the uniformed grunts slaughtered at the mercy of his blade. “My old friend… What has become of you…”

Kenneth leveled Mike with a serious, even tempered stare. Intensity flickered through the facets in his compound orbs like a bolt of lightening.

“We are going to need far more than the Giga Canon to resolve this.”

Rick usually would’ve been the first to pop off a quip about just what in the fuck that was supposed to mean, but at the moment he was preoccupied by sheer horror. The images were blurred by motion, likely the captures of the last thing that the photographers saw before becoming victims themselves. Yet it was clear that Flannax had some sort of cybernetic enhancements; the robotic eye, attachments on arms and legs, some sort of reinforced spine augmentation. Where had he gotten those? How?! Rick recoiled further and further into his seat, eyes flicking back and forth as he wildly analyzed the screens.

This couldn’t be happening. They were together. His ex and Mikes ex were TOGETHER!

“Flannax Archibald is clearly the brains of this operation.” Kenneth continued smoothly, placing his claws on the table as well. “We need to eliminate him foremost if we want to ensure that the Lizardperson will be susceptible to our offensive maneuvers.”

Take him out first? A risky move, perhaps, but calculated. And Kenneth knew as well as anyone that Mike would stand with him in the decision to put an end to the crazed ex-Commander’s reign of terror.

“Mike.” The Grand Leader addressed him, daring to use his nickname on the war room floor. Which was reserved only for those who were close with one another - exemplifying a show of mutual trust. “You were chosen as his successor. You studied under him. You were the closest member of his inner circle. You know him best. You are the most qualified of anyone to lead our mission to—“

“*GASP*!”

Rick interrupted the Grand Leader’s very important speech and possible gift of power within the Federation with a sharp intake of breath, clapping his hand over his mouth and freezing up as still as a statue. He was absolutely stricken with fear, looking like he had seen a ghost. At this point, he wished he had.

“G-go back!” He demanded, voice pitching an octave higher with alarm. The lowly soldiers working the display screens he was addressing only looked at him like he was insane. Didn’t the human know that only those in the chain of command could tell them what to do?

Rick immediately became irritated, as was his nature, and slapped the table several times to get them moving. “Hell-oooo! Th-the pictures, you idiots! Go back! N-not that one — no, too far back! N-not that one, either! It’s—!”

The still image in question came to rest on the screen, and it was enough to take the breath right out of Rick’s chest. “I-iiiit’s this one.”

Flannax, head held high. Clothes torn and blood soaked completely through. Hand raised, and clutched in it…

Was a gun.

A PORTAL GUN.

MIKES PORTAL GUN.

“N-nope. Nope nopenopeNOPE!”

That was it. That was IT! Rick had seen enough to tide him over, likely for several lifetimes. Things had gone from bad to worse to holy shit, and he wasn’t going to sit around and wait for the motherfucker to portal in behind them and start ripping heads clean off.

The human reached out his singular still functioning arm and clutched onto Mike’s wrist in a surprisingly strong grip that screamed urgency.

“M-Mike. You, me, talk, n-now.”

Kenneth blinked several times, unused to others butting in the midst of speaking. “I… I don’t understand. What is it, human?”

What would he choose? To continue with Kenneth and accept the new priority to put Archibald down, or listen to his overly emotional human?

“Nothing! I-it’s nothing.” Rick reassured through clenched teeth, flashing an incredibly brief and incredibly fake placating smile. “Mike! Babe! N-now!”

Continued from (X)

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“The Lizardperson is traveling a set pattern. Logically, they would be next.” Ken agreed, nodding in approval. Krombopulos may be considered a traitor to their great empire, but he clearly had not lost his keen knowledge pertaining to the nuances of the Federation. Which was something that a Grand Leader could appreciate. “BzQuel would be wise to brace themselves. We have sent signals in attempted contact, and can only hope to hear reportback from survivors.”

Judging by the slight frown pulling at his mandibles, Kenneth was doubting the possibility of such a thing. The destruction that had been wrought was severe, unthinkable. If there were any survivors in the imminent attack, they would likely be horrifically injured or bitten… Infected…

He paused for a moment and glanced around, his brow pinching slightly. Despite all of his dutiful military posturing that aligned with a golden example of leadership, Ken was a bit shaken by the nature of the situation.

“While we cannot pinpoint the exact location of the enemy, we do know that the creature is moving from one Federation location to another at an alarming rate of speed.” He informed his men gravely. “By the time we hear from one base that they were attacked, another sends a mayday call. It seems that these events happen nearly instantaneously after the other, and our brothers in arms are unable to see it coming.”

Rick felt a cold lightning bolt of pure dread arc up his spine that caused him to straighten up at attention, heart thudding in double time in his chest. These idiotic insects didn’t even know where he was?!

“M-Mike.” He hissed under his breath, trying not be draw too much attention to himself. “L-Lizardperson has always been fast, b-b-but this is a lot, e-even for him…”

Rick should know - not only had he accompanied Lizardperson on a path of destruction for a very long time, but it was in his nature to know a thing or two about the art of moving from one place to another very quickly. All Ricks did.

“It’s tactics of war are nothing like what we have observed it perform roughly a decade ago.” Ken continued, not having picked up on the anxious human’s voice thanks to the mumbles of concern from his posse of decorated warmongers drowning him out. “My fellow Grand Leaders and our High Commanders are some of our best minds; they did not mishandle battle, but rather were taken by ambush. Reports have stated that it is almost as if the creature simply materialized. It approaches silently, strikes quickly, and angles for points of weakness.”

The images flashed by once more, this time with certain features highlighted or encircled, attached to lengthy in depth catalogues of detail. The underbelly hull of Outpost 13’s faulty seal. The secret side entrance on 4. The siding on 12 where it was weakened by a massive meteor impact all those years ago. Each and every one of them coincidentally being the site of the most destruction by Lizardperson.

“This information that you see here is highly classified. The sensitive points of our collectives, namely our Outposts, is only known to a select number of individuals, and has never left Federation custody.” Kenneth told the crowd, his ruby eyes narrowing. “The question stands. How did it know where to focus it’s efforts?”

It was no secret that Lizardperson was wildly intelligent, and did not abide by the rules that governed their plane of existence. But while it was an emotion eater, it wasn’t psychic or some form of all knowing being. Was it?

“As we understand, the Lizardperson does not always act alone. We know that It has strategized with the human before.” The Grand Leader stated matter of factly, gesturing to the human in question. Rick frowned at the reminder, not a fan of receiving judgemental glares from the occupants of the table. He could feel Quz’s gaze burning holes right through him. “Currently, our intelligence believes that It is strategizing with a different individual.”

Wait wait wait. What? Rick blinked a few times in shock, leaning back in his seat as if the information itself had knocked him back.

Lizardperson had affixed himself to another person?! Already? But who? And why?! The humans mind buzzed with racing thoughts of panic, confusion - jealousy? Ugh! No! Snap out of it!

The rooms occupants were on the edge of their seats, hanging off of every damning word that left Kenneth’s wiggly mouth flappies. Hardened Generals clenched their square jaws, star soldiers eyes glittered with anticipation.

The man of the hour stood before them, tall and proud and tense. Like he was readying himself for the revelation to come as much as the rest of them were.

“That individual… is one of our own. Or rather, used to be.”

The screens, which had been displaying independent scenes of chaos, unified to show one singular chilling image. One that was harrowing enough to make Rick’s blood run as cold as ice, and elicit gasps from the room.

It was Lizardperson, in all of his terrifying glory. His maw was wide, showing off sickle shaped needle teeth, pearly white in contract to nightmare black flesh. And at his side…

The humans good hand suddenly grasped on to the edge of the fine oak table in a white knuckled death grip, finger nails scraping the lacquer. He was stiff as a board, grinding his teeth hard enough to make them ache.

The capture had a slight blur of motion, but there was no mistaking the very identifiable anatomy of a gromflomite. A broad shouldered, larger built male, who had some very unique traits.

A missing mandible. A large scar over one empty eye socket. The other eye that should be missing replaced somehow by something… bionic? A well kept Federation issue bowie knife gripped in a bloody hand. An expression wrought with fury, telltale spittle foam seeping from the corners of his mouth.

No. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t! That fucker was DEAD! Mike had slit him open and thrown him into a portal to glob only knew where!

“Is- i-i-is that—?!”

Continued from (X)

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fuck it we ball

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Kenneth stared across the table rather blankly for a long moment, his face unreadable as his compound eyes moved between the demanding human and his former brother in arms. Not only was the flesh ape pushing the envelope, but now Mike was supporting his frankly brazen behavior as well.

Did they not realize that a less forgiving Grand Leader would simply extract the information pertaining to the drug?

Rick sat there as smug as could be, grinning from ear to ear. Mike backing him up in negotiations always made his confidence soar to new heights. It had been a while since the last time they’d made a deal together, and it felt good to be back in the saddle. Well before their prison stint slash breakup fiasco, this had been the norm. Rick declaring his wants and the assassin thoroughly intimidating his clients into bending to his will.

Some things never changed. Namely, Rick’s insistence to try and wring as much as he possibly could get out of any unfortunate sucker who happened to find themselves in his path.

“W-well, Ken?” Rick practically singsonged, truly in his element. “What’ll it be, buddy?”

Pressuring him. The human had the nerve to pressure him into making a decision. Ken gave a sigh that most certainly contained irritation, reaching up to rub at his brow as if this exchange was giving him a headache.

“And what, pray tell, exactly are you expecting in return?”

“Cold. Hard. Cash. I-IIII want money.” Rick emphasized his words by tapping his pointer finger on the wood before him with each syllable.

Money was hardly an object to the Federation. They were by far one of the richest organizations in existence thanks to their thousand year conquest, each planet under their thumb squeezed for every last ounce of valuable resources it contained. It was more about the nuances of giving the human anything, and how that reflected upon him, that was the issue.

“…. Granted.” He agreed. “You will be paid adequately. Now, we must—“

“I’m not done!” Rick cheerily informed, clearly loving the taste of power. “I-I want my stay here to be perfectly comfortable. I want liquor, I want smokes, I want a-aaa nice room that doesn’t look l-like shit, and I want my own private laboratory th-that nobody else gets to fuck with.”

Ken deepened his frown as Rick counted off his demands on one hand, really starting to display on his features just how much this was teeing him off. Much to the joy of Sanchez.

“Kenneth.” Quz firmly warned, displeased with the human undermining his protege.

“Oh, sh-shut up. Th-the big dogs are talking.” Rick mocked the former commander, rolling his eyes. “W-which reminds me! I also want—“

“Enough.”

The Grand Leader cut in sharply, his tone leaving no room for question. He was astoundingly patient, but would not stand for such a display of blatant disregard to his position of power. Everyone in the room should have learned that after what he had done just a few minutes ago.

Rick shrunk in on himself, finally - graciously - backing off. “Jeez. T-touchy guy…”

“Create the cure for me. Everything else is trivial, and will be dealt with later.” As in, not right now. It was ridiculous, to take up precious time in the sanctity of the war room when there were far bigger things at stake. “We must move on. There are far more pressing matters.”

What could be more important than getting his way? Rick huffed and sat back in his seat, visibly pouting. For all his genius, he could be incredibly childish at times, and this was one of them.

The Grand Leader briefly shut his eyes and collected himself, his demeanor returning to stark seriousness. He rose from his seat calmly, clasping his graspers behind his back as he addressed the table.

“Gentlemen. Our darkest hour may be upon us.”

It seemed as if he had saved the best for last. It certainly piqued Rick’s interest. A murmur went around the room, curiosity and concern getting the better of the esteemed who were gathered.

“As you are aware, we are currently shielded from direct attack. However, some of our sibling Outposts have not been so lucky.”

A display screen behind him lit up in imagery of intense destruction. Outpost 13, a herald of its kind, was now seen as a shadow of its former glory. It’s lights were dark in the midst of space, illuminated only by the rings of a neighboring planet that shared some of its light. Large holes were ripped in the massive hull, spilling debris in a way that was reminiscent of some great disemboweled beast.

It switched again. This time it was Outpost 11. Then 4. Then 16. Then 12. Then—

Generals and Commanders alike were shocked at the revelation being shown to them, their voices rising in notes of disbelief and woe. Entire Outposts, shining examples of their great warrior civilization, each destroyed in new and horrific visages; impossibilities come to fruition.

“That is to say nothing of our bases. The planets under our control. Our sites of importance.”

Burning buildings. Statues reduced to rubble. Corpses strewn across landscapes, painting sickly shades of aged blood where there had once stood proud cities, encampments - the inhabitants now removed from the living. Crashed ships littered the lands like common litter, crushed like tin cans.

“Make no mistake. The Federation is being targeted specifically.”

Yes, Lizardperson was destructive. But it had been only mere days since he was inadvertently freed, and the locations being shown were quite distant from one another. Which raised the question: how had this happened in such a narrow time frame? Was he really that much more powerful after feeding on an entire prison ship full of high powered emotion?

Rick suddenly didn’t feel like copping an attitude anymore. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and his face had drained of color.

Kenneth regarded his men with honesty, integrity, and graveness that communicated the gravity of the situation quite effectively.

“Soon enough, we very may well be one of the last standing Outposts that remains relatively intact.”

Continued from (X)

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rick doodles

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Rick arched a brow at the assassin he was still very much in close confines with, suspicion written all over his expression. Mike might have a poker face that could fool the Federation idiots at the table, but his human companion was another story entirely. He knew him inside and out — they had been together for years, not to mention that they had been mind melded to the point where it was hard to tell where who began and where the other ended.

Make no mistake. Rick knew his tells from the slightest subtlety, especially ones that gave away that he was turned on.

Seriously? He was practically draped across the mercenary’s lap, and now he was going to go gaga over his ~old friend~?!

Rick gave him a dirty look as he leaned away and delivered a corrective sharp kick under the table, right in the shin. Get it together!

They would have to bicker about Mike nearly popping a boner over his little military boyfriend later. He should consider himself lucky that they were in the limelight right now, or else jealous Rick would tear into him like a wild garflamp mercilessly.

“Ahem. Ken, w-was it? C-can I call you Ken? I-I’m gonna call you Ken.” Rick addressed the Grand Leader somewhat callously, his annoyance over Mike’s affections bleeding through into the current conversation. “I-I find it hard to believe you people built this entire ship w-without including a self cleaning oven feature o-or something.”

Kenneth simply looked amused, catching on to the attitude the human was projecting. He was ballsy to toy with him after the display he had put on, he would give him that. He exchanged a look with Quz, who glowered at the human in turn. If he still held the seat of power, he would not be nearly as tolerative.

“Fire does seem to produce results. I wanted to search for survivors, but perhaps scorched earth tactics are our best bet.” He relinquished, although he didn’t seem happy about it. Leadership meant making tough decisions, and this was one of them. “We have a sector specialized in flamethrower weaponry. Perhaps we can—“

“Fuuuuck that.” Rick interrupted, disinterestedly checking out his nails. They were chipped. Ugh. “Y-you have a ton of life sustaining atmospheric systems, r-right? Just - just seal off that section a-aaand flood it with oxygen. Light it up, kaboom. Big fire.”

Look at Rick, actually being helpful for once. What a rarity that was. Maybe he was just eager to get out of this room so he could chew Mike out.

Kenneth nodded to his lackeys, who began to take down furious notes.

“We will take this into consideration. Moving on. There are soldiers who are infected but have not yet perished.” He informed. “I wish to preserve our numbers, if possible. Perhaps you could help?”

Rick pointed to himself. “Me?”

“You have a cure. Do you not?”

The human sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I-I mean, it’s not a cure, b-but…”

Wait. Waaaaait a second. Rick perked up like a dog hearing the word treat, sending an opportunity that he was very familiar with up until as of late.

“H-hold on. Y-yyyyou want me to make drugs for you?” He questioned, his tone indicative that he could hardly believe it. “Drugs? F-for the Galactic Federation?”

And here he had thought that this day would never come. Plug Rick was back in business, baby! Scoring a client that encompassed an entire army was something out of a wet dream. If he had gotten an opportunity this huge back in his hay day, he would retired to a mansion on the shore front of Qualzidious-10.

“Yes. As much of it as you can make.” Ken affirmed. “I would rather have my soldiers be methodically poisoned but alive, rather than expend them when other options are available.”

“Okay. Th-that, I can do.” Rick agreed, a sly smile tugging at his lips. He was going to take these fuckers for everything they had.

“Excellent. We will provide necessary materials, and you can begin immediately. We need—“

“Aht aht aht!” Rick cut him off. He was definitely starting to act like he felt - on a high horse. “I-III am not doing it for free.”

Ken stared at him blankly for a moment. The human was lucky to even be alive, much less free from imprisonment or torture tactics. Could the flesh ape really be this brave? This stupid? Who in their right mind would try to manipulate his way into something more, at a time like this? “….What?”

Continued from (X)

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If they weren’t in the middle of a Galactic Federation war room, Rick might’ve swooned right then and there. A strong arm around the small of his back, whilst being defended with such passion? He couldn’t help but feel his stomach tingle with butterflies. Mike coming to his rescue always got him sooo hot…

Well. Most of the time it did. Staring down a room of pissed off insectoids with a penchant to kill him didn’t exactly set the mood. He clung to the assassin, trying his damndest not to tremble in his proverbial boots.

Kenneth, eternally cool and collected, regarded the exchange with rapt attention. His compound lenses flicking back and forth, taking in the scene. It was up to him to control the room, after all - and it seemed as though he was satisfied by how things had been handled.

“Krombopulos, while crass, is correct. The human is our key to success.”

Rick frowned. While this ensured that he wouldn’t be used as lizard bait, he wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of being a key to anything.

Ken continued without much hesitation. “We have several captive lizards that we are running experimentations on, and the vacuum of space does not seem to result in death. Only a sort of stasis. This could result in much bigger problems if they are spread around the galaxy and grow up to be like the Lizardperson.”

That was it? They simply moved on?! The commander who has spoken up earlier only to be disregarded ground his razored teeth in rage, biting clean through the end of his foul smelling cigar. Between his choice in smokes and the scar on his jaw, he was awfully reminiscent of a certain someone…

“This? This is how you choose to respond to a traitor threatening your mens lives?!” He shot at the Grand Leader, his face contorting in anger. “You agree with him? You say NOTHING in response to these insults?”

Focus in the room went right back to the snarling commander, who was obviously intent on not letting this go easily. Machismo often prevented insults of such a caliber from being forgiven.

“First you allow a TRAITOR at our table!” The grizzled salt roared, swinging an arm to point at the mercenary in question. “Then you allow him actual authority over US?!”

Kenneth tensed up, his graspers curling into fists. “Commander. We discussed this well before the arrival of Krombopulos and his human companion. You will not—“

“Why is this piece of CHITTER CHIT taking precedent over your own soldiers?!” The commander harshly questioned, backed up by several nods and grumbled words of support. He may be the only one brave enough to press the issue, but it was evident that he spoke for many who were seated at the table.

“Stand down, commander.” The Grand Leader warned sternly, his voice edging on real aggression.

“Tell me, great Grand Leader.” The Commander hissed, mockery in his tone. “Are the rumors true? Is it because he’s your little bed bug?!”

Kenneth’s eyes flashed with an intensity that shone like the light of a thousand suns. A fire danced within, flickering glimpses of undiluted malice coming out to play as scandalized gasps were heard around the room.

It was time to put his subservient in their place.

SHHHK!

The movement that Rick saw was so blindingly fast that he swore it took mere milliseconds, a blur of color to his human eye. If he had blinked, he would’ve missed it. At one moment Kenneth was seated in his throne like chair stewing in anger, and at the next—

At the next he was poised in a slight crouch with his golden knife held high, still as a statue where he stood just a step behind the commander who had spoken out of line.

Everything stood in place for a beat, a serene silence overcoming the former muttering voices and shocked noises. Even the lackeys had stopped their obnoxious typing, the buzz of electronics filling the space. There wasn’t a soul who wasn’t frozen in anticipation.

The intensity was broken when the out of line commander’s throat suddenly let out a gush of bright green blood, chitin parting to reveal a wide wound that had been cut into him. He had been slit from ear to ear with precision, allowing a high velocity spray to escape that was akin to that of a Berserker.

The Commander stumbled backwards clutching desperately at his shredded trachea, thrown off balance by the devastating injury. He gurgled on his own life blood, turning towards the startled star soldiers who parted their ranks in his path with startled shouts. He clawed at the walls of maps desperately, gromflomite juices splashing onto schematics, hopelessly staining them beyond repair as the rest of the room watched in stunned silence.

It took merely ten or twenty seconds for the old salt to cease his struggling and graciously bleed out, collapsing limply to the floor in a heap. His star soldier, presumably, finally broke out of their trance and rushed to his side.

“C-commander!” He cried out, lifting a hand to his youthful face to muffle a sob. It may be a rarity to express such emotion, but the kid couldn’t be more than a year or two past legal adulthood…

The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Kenneth straightened up, a lackey of his fumbling to hand him a cloth, which he began to methodically clean the blood from his golden blade with. He nonchalantly polished it to perfection, returned to the head of the table with a few slow steps, and sunk his knife into its slot.

“I think I have made my point abundantly clear.” He began coldly. “Does anyone else present wish to express dissent?”

Nary a word from his constituents, each and every one of them obediently refusing to stand against him.

That was… hardcore. Okay, maybe Rick could understand why Mike had such interest in this guy. The killing move he had executed felt familiar - maybe it was a skill they had both learned together…?

“I don’t usually resort to killing my own men. But I am your Grand Leader, and you will respect me as such.”

Scrimblo took a slow look around, pointedly making eye contact with every last leader until they averted their eyes in respect, which they did nigh instantaneously. Quz was the only one exempt, of course. Only after their submission did he relax once more back into his typical self. “Now. We have much to address. Krombopulos and Rick, you have the floor.”

Continued from (X)

[plugrick]

Huh. Funny how even Mike followed along and sunk his diamond engagement knife into the surface of the table, metaphorically throwing his hat in the ring, albeit without all of the over the top flair. Rick guessed the action had more significance than he previously knew. He’d have to ask more about the whole thing later on.

It was kind of romantic, though, how the sparkling blade between them signified them both… An example of their unity…

Kenneth Scrimblo listened attentively to what the traitor in the room had to say, steepling his graspers in thought and consideration. He didn’t seem to notice that his counterparts were narrowing their eyes as Mike spoke, deeply offended that he was given a platform at such a prestigious gathering space. He certainly didn’t acknowledge it.

“Yes, I agree. What we have seen thus far is indicative of a sickness. A spreading disease caused by bite wounds.”

Each and every one of the Berserkers they had fought off had been heavily inflicted, gaping holes in chitin gruesome enough to leave a lasting afterimage on the minds eye. It would be impossible not to take notice.

“The fatality rate of this sickness is high, but not one hundred percent. There have been soldiers that have survived, if only barely. Although they seem far from unscathed, plagued by… fits of spasms.” He informed. “Often manifesting in a limb that acts without their control.”

Rick’s head whirled as he sent a sharp look over at Mike, remembering with a start that one of his arms had been doing just that. Did that mean…? Was the bite he got—?!

His panicked thoughts were cut off by another gromflomite seated at the table speaking up, some old war dog who wore a dramatic scar encompassing the right side of his jaw.

“These creatures, born from flesh. Why do they speak the name of the human?”

Ohhh boy. All eyes were on him again. Usually Rick adored being the center of attention in a packed room, but this situation was a far cry from any rager party he’d been the star of.

“W-why do you think, numb nuts?!” The foolish man snapped back at the highly decorated Commander in away that would get any lowly backhanded, as spitfire as ever. “B-because, Lizardperson is a-and has always been obsessed with me, a-aaaand these things are clearly a product of him.”

“Him?”

“It.” Rick corrected, flustering subtly. Perhaps he should be more careful with his choice of words, lest they catch on that he was on more than familiar terms with Lizardperson.

The commander sneered, his distinct facial scar pulling at his mouth flappies grotesquely. “Grand Leader. If I may suggest a proposal.”

Kenneth nodded in approval. “Granted. Say your piece.”

“We should make good use of the human,” he growled, his voice worn and ugly from a lifetime of breathing harsh gun smoke. And probably from those damned cigars, too. “Utilize the attraction the creatures have to him. His scent will lure out the remaining beasts, allowing us to gather them into one area and slaughter them effectively.”

Rick froze up in his seat as hums of approval circulated, eyes widening as a hot bolt of terror shot through him. Use him as bait?! The last thing he wanted was to be dangled in front of the lizards like a carrot! He reached over and gripped onto Mike like a vice, stuttering like he was on a bad come down. “M-M-M-Mike! D-d-don’t let them—“

“Absolutely not.” Ken spoke sharply, his eyes narrowing to angered slits. “We need the human. He holds the answers for us. We cannot risk his life for a short term goal.”

The commander slammed a fist on the table hard enough to make Rick jump, snarling in contempt. “It is a decent proposal! A call to action! A NECESSITY!”

Continued from (X)

[plugrick]

It was a travesty that they had to leave this closeness behind so soon. Rick sorely missed the innate connection that he had with Mike — it was no secret that their relationship had been tumultuous lately, and it felt like they only caught brief snapshot moments of being on the same page.

What he wouldn’t give for a quiet evening with Mike and a few bottles of Klaxion wine right now…

Hands on his shoulders were meant to be reassuring, but Rick only sent a worried look up at Mike in return. It was hard not to be anxious when he had already put two and two together that this visit with Ken would very much involve him as a topic of interest.

“Y-yeah, just - just help me with the one side. H-hold on — be c-careful! Ow ow ow ow ow—“

After some mild fussing, Rick was back in his sling and ready to go. Or at least as ready as somebody in his position could be.

He was nervous. Really on edge. For one thing, he didn’t appreciate how the posse of soldiers leading them around were looking at him funny. He had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t just because they had walked in on him and Mike in a somewhat compromising position, either.

He pressed on with his head held high in a display of false confidence, his expression unreadable.

Rick was still maintaining his flat, disconnected outward appearance when they found themselves staring across a table at the Grand Leader and his glowering cronies.

The human stole a disinterested look around the war room they were seated in, taking in the surroundings that were clearly over designed to impress. Maps of surrounding constellations marked for conquest, figurines that were representative of battleships, pinned flags indicative of successful takeovers and unclaimed territories. Holographic display screens being manipulated by talented lackeys, each of them monitoring different cross sections of various planets and swaths of nebulous. Others donned headphones whilst furiously typing information into terminals, presumably communications experts. And at the epicenter of it all was this big solid wood gathering table riddled with these weird divots, each seat occupied by a different grob-ugly grizzled gromflomite general or commander, their star soldiers obediently standing with their claws clasped behind their backs in the shadows as apt observers.

Could this get any more corny? This whole place smelled like cigar smoke and testosterone fueled machismo. Rick couldn’t help but feel that this elaborate display was more fueled by ego than any real need to strategize. He needed a cigarette.

Judging from how each and every one of the hardened top dogs were glaring holes through him and Mike, they were not welcome in this space. Especially Mike. Every single eye in the room was honed in on him, their owners curling their wiggly mandibles in disgust. A traitor being allowed into such a sacred space was unheard of, dishonorable. It was surely only because of Ken’s unique instruction that this was ever allowed to happen at all.

At the head of the table, in the seat that was gilded and thusly signified the place of the most powerful in the room, Kenneth Scrimblo overlooked his party of celebrated Federation members and miscreants alike. He was no longer covered in blood and viscera, but the turmoil of battle and mentally strenuous leadership decisions were evident in the way he wore his stress lines and under eye bags prominently. While Krombopulos had been recovering, he had been kept quite busy, as was his duty to do so. Forever straight-backed and firm, he addressed the group in a well spoken command.

“Before we begin. CHITTER CHITTER CHIT.”

Rick didn’t quite catch that. Something about places of honor…? Ken rose to his feet, the others at the table following suit a beat afterwards. Well, almost all of them. Quz couldn’t follow suit due to his, y’know, condition, and Rick didn’t either. He just arched a brow, watching with confusion. Was he supposed to stand up? He didn’t want to participate in whatever this was.

The powerful figureheads each unsheathed their respective blades strapped to their hip or thigh or upper arm, most of them resembling Flannax’s bowie knife far too much for comfort, and plunged them tip first into the wooden table with a resounding collective THUD. So that’s what made all the marks…

That was… interesting. After whatever that ritual had been, they collectively took their seats once more, Kenneth awaiting until all of them were down before seating himself. His golden blade lodged in the table before him, glittering in the harsh overhead lighting filtered by thick plumes of tobacco that would put Rick’s chain smoking to shame.

Kenneth neatly folded his graspers on the table before speaking. A habit he had picked up later on in life to avoid fidgeting while he talked.

“As you all know, the Lizardperson menace has advanced into the Outpost. At eleven o hundred yesterday, infected soldiers breached containment, and began to… Produce small reptilians from their bodies.”

It seemed as if even Kenneth himself was unsure of how to phrase the insanity of the situation. It was a bizarre reality — the type of thing that would be unthinkable, and yet. It was the truth.

“As of right now, half of Outpost eight is considered on lock down. We are unsure of how many reptilians there are, or how many men have been lost either to infection or in the ensuing battles. Our efforts are focused on containment and research, which will then aid us in taking back territory.”

A display behind him exemplified how much of the Outpost was lost to them, showing a grand map of impossibly winding corridors and training halls and glob knew what else, shades of red blanking out what was no longer accessible.

“First and foremost. It is imperative that we figure out what these things are, how they function, and what they want.”

The eyes previously fixated on Mike turned slightly to the right, and Rick took notice. He stiffened, eyes jutting back and forth between the intimidating figures before him.

Seems like his intuition had been correct…

“D-d-don’t look at me! I-III don’t have a clue!” He insisted, raising his hand up in a ‘calm down’ motion. Nobody seemed convinced by his words, scowls deepening in a way that made him doubtful they would believe a thing he would say. He lowered his voice and leaned over to his companion. “M-Mike, back me up here.”

Continued from (X)

[plugrick]

[plugrick]

i need your help . you need to kill m

[plugrick]

i'm a substance abusing pseudo intellectual but you will respect me