22. Vesper #2
“This place is a nightmare,” Locke squeaks. He’s holding his hammer, but it’s almost like he’s forgotten he has it. “This can’t be real.”
“Oh, it is very real,” Cipher mocks. “Welcome to the Leaf Cutter Empire, player three million, six hundred and seventy-three thousand, five hundred, and seventeen. Try to be a little braver in the face of such challenges.”
“Fuck you,” Locke snarls. “You wouldn’t say shit like that to my face.”
“On the contrary, I would.”
“Then do it!” Locke snarls. “You fucking—”
“Uh, Locke?” I say, staring at the Hercules beetle. “We may have a problem.”
Behind us, the centipede curls into view, crawling over the fallen log with its thousand legs like it’s nothing.
It moves into the clearing and chitters at us in annoyance, but clearly pleased that we’ve stopped running.
The Hercules beetle chirps back aggressively toward the centipede, which only serves to piss off the centipede even more.
The beetle opens great wings I hadn’t even realized it had and the loud sounds of its wings fluttering fill the air as it lifts off the ground.
Its chirping grows louder as it faces off against the centipede, prepared to protect itself.
The centipede, clearly not liking the beetle threatening its meal, rears up, completely focusing on the beetle and forgetting about the two of us.
I start to back up carefully, trying not to make any noise.
If it can be distracted enough, we can run for it.
The centipede launches itself at the beetle.
The big horn on the front of the beetle snaps up, hitting the centipede with a fwap and sending it into the nearest tree.
The centipede doesn’t seem to be affected.
It hits the trees, falls to the ground, and immediately straightens before running at the beetle again.
“We gotta get out of here,” I whisper to Locke. “Now.”
We back into the trees just as the centipede wraps around the beetle like the Boiúna, all thousand of its legs clutching to the beetle’s thick body.
The centipede attacks the beetle’s wings, breaking on large piece of its shell off before shredding the fine, see-through wings.
The beetle slams to the ground right beside us with a thump that shakes the ground beneath our feet.
The beetle roars in pain as the centipede curls around it and starts to attack with its fangs along the soft creases of its shells.
I can’t resist. I grab the shell piece the centipede tore off and whisk it away into my inventory.
My small movement draws the attention of the centipede again, even as the beetle stops moving entirely.
“Run,” Locke whispers.
We both turn and run deeper into the Leaf Cutter Empire. I don’t know if we’re going the direction of the safehouse or if we’re going in the direction of a different region entirely. I just know we need to get away from the centipede fast. We won’t have another opportunity now that it’s pissed.
As we run, we startle other giant bugs from their activities, great flying beasts, plenty that climb on the trees, a few that just seem intrigued by our presence.
We stop for none of them. The scream of the centipede and the crunching of leaves follows us.
It’s not going to let us escape this time. I can feel it.
This is how we die.
Locke meets my eyes as we run, like he knows what I’m thinking because he’s thinking it, too. We’re going down. The best we can hope for is it attacks one of us and leaves the other running. Locke looks over his shoulder and his face pales. He lifts his hammer up.
“I need you to keep running,” he pants.
“Don’t you dare,” I snarl. “We both keep running.”
“And let it pick which one of us it wants more?” he grunts. “I ain’t goin’ down like that. I’d rather face it.”
“You don’t have to be the knight here,” I growl. “We can find somewhere safe.”
“Stop!” Someone shouts. We’re so startled by the sound, we actually follow the command, sliding to a stop with wide eyes and searching for the source of the sound.
Three . . . men? . . . appear out of the trees. They’re dressed in metal armor from neck down, but . . .
“Ants,” Locke rasps. “They look like ants.”
We have ants in Dross. The insects are tiny and harmless, but always show up when you have food, struggling to survive just as we do.
Now that Locke mentions it, I can see the similarities in their heads, but I would have never made the connection.
The ants in Dross are tiny black things.
These ants are red, their large heads and eyes bright in the darkness.
They’re carrying weapons, two of them spears and one a large club.
Their bodies are segmented like an insect and easily seen despite the armor they wear.
Large antennae move as they talk to us, their mouths partially obscured by large mandibles.
When we don’t immediately say anything after their command, the one in the center straightens and slicks his mandibles at us.
“Who dares to enter the Leaf Cutter Queen’s domain?” he demands. “State your name and business.”
Locke looks over his shoulder to where the centipede is pushing through the foliage. “Hey, man. So, there’s this centipede thing chasing—”
“He asked you a question,” the ant guard with a club spits. “I suggest you answer it.”
We both glance at the centipede closing in behind us and then face the ants again.
I grimace and close my eyes, preparing for the thing to tackle us from behind and kill us like it had that beetle.
These ant guards are going to get it, too, if they don’t do something.
Why aren’t they reacting? Shit, even if I could run, I’m not sure how much further I’m going to make it anyways.
My legs are burning and shaky. My lungs are burning like I’ve got Blacklung. I might as well end it all here.
I’m sorry, Dox, I think as I squeeze my eyes shut and tense.
The sound of the centipede clamoring closer echoes loud in my ears as I prepare for my death, as I wait for the feeling of those thousands of legs to touch me, those fangs to paralyze me.
I hope it’s a fast death at least, but something tells me it won’t be.
A clicking noise interrupts my pity party, loud in the clearing, and my eyes pop back open in confusion.
The ants in front of me are making clicking noises that sound eerily similar to the centipede. Their own mandibles clack and dance. The centipede stops so close behind us that I can feel its warmth and it starts to chitter in response.
“Are they . . . talking?” I whisper to Locke, my brows furrowed as I stare between them.
Being this close to the centipede, I get a better view of just how horrifying it is. It’s reared up behind us, those legs dancing in and out that are lifted off the ground. It’s fangs drip with venom as it clicks at the guards.
After a few minutes, the centipede makes a sound of displeasure and the ant leader’s tone grows more aggressive with his clicks.
The centipede hisses and then turns away, disappearing back into the darkness to hunt something else.
Relief fills me, even if I’m now worried about the creatures in front of us.
“Your name and business,” the ant guard says again, focusing on us.
I stare at him, taking in his entire strange appearance. What the fuck is even going on right now? “Vesper and Locke,” I answer finally. “And, uh . . . our business is just to survive.”
“Players?” he asks.
I raise my brow, confused by the question. Who else would we be? From what I’ve seen of NPCs, they only ever exist around buildings and safehouses. “Yes. Both of us.”
The ant nods and lowers his weapon. “Follow us, players.”
I look around. “We appreciate your help,” I say, looking for a way out. “Can’t we just—”
“It wasn’t a request,” the ant guard says, his large eyes meeting mine. His mandibles clack together ominously.
I hold up my hands to show I meant no harm. “Okay. We’ll follow you.”
Locke and I glance nervously at each other, but when the ants start to march, we fall into step. After all, if they hold enough power to send that centipede away, I don’t want to know what they’ll do to us should they decide they don’t like us after all.