Eighth Plague

Author's Note: A fic commemorating the surprise release of the first Fake Number. Enjoy the story and R&R.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the Yu-Gi-Oh! ZEXAL series.

Summary:

Locust King jealously wants to eat III's memories till he's dead, and Semimaru isn't prepared to wait long.

Thus spake the chosen of the king of black-shelled cicadas: "How long will you refuse to humble yourselves before me?"

The plague overlaid Heartland Memorial, a nesting disaster.

Dream-eating nymphs, the swarm greedily devours dreamstuff of wakeful trespassers under cover of euthanizing smoke.

Oily imagines, the brood erases personalities of the catatonic under its razor pyres.

Semimaru flapped his disgusting tongue. Though Heartland's goon and Vector's slave was once human, that corpse was now the morbid carapace he scared his prey with. For those brats Tsukumo Yuma and III, he abandoned this exuvia, exposing the more hideous bug which crawled up from Barian World.

Evil was a famine borne by insects that followed one to Hell and back.

Cherished memories drained through the thief's appetent, impatient proboscis. It gave him joy watching the schmaltz sucked from pleading Duelists as they blinked out like flies. His forewings and hindwings vibrated, screams sloughing off their waxy spikes to toss and turn among illusions during torpid sleep.

Final stage set, Locust King thrashed inside the husk of Semimaru's Deck. It hungered to pierce III's head. It craved to break past his defences and wrack paralyzing pain on the pest who went by the designation "Three," notoriety the Fake Number staked claim to.

Minmin minmin minmin.

Locust King's maintained crepitation, Semimaru couldn't squelch. Tymbals buckling and unbuckling, the chirping force clicked on.

I hear you, my monster. A little longer. Then, you'll have your chance to sing loudly your hellish victory!