Another RP between me and my friend PhazonFlood. The full, unparted version can be found here: /d5aemt1

His character, Skry, meets mine, Skasheel, and everything under the sun happens between them.

Enjoy. 3

Skry was in a good mood. It wasn't rare, but this time he knew it was likely due to the nitrogen in his bloodstream. Had he had too much already? He didn't care. For some reason he felt like getting a little more tipsy than he already was. Bad decisions had a way of seducing him these days.

He still had his wits about him, if only for a time before he swigged down another round. In a way Skry was trying to drown out the loneliness, as if that would somehow make company come to him.

How long had it been since he'd since another Klexian? Too long, he realized. Other species held little respite and he could never forge a lasting connection with any of them. Others could do so easily; he could not. He was picky, proud and reserved; his dedication on hold for someone he knew would matter to him. And that individual was proving an elusive myth.

There was no cheap joy to be found tonight. No, tonight was a night to wallow in self-pity and hazed thoughts, complacent and patient, waiting for something, anything, to come to him.

Inside a bar was the last place Skasheel expected to find herself. The raucous, laid back atmosphere was off-putting at best, but the subdued lighting was what brought her there in the first place. She had hoped to find a darkened corner somewhere to sequester herself away in, away from prying, curious eyes, but that was proving a failed cause. The place was thoroughly packed and she found herself shying away from the abundant splash of life.

Her fears were for nothing: no one seemed to care or notice her presence. Hesitantly she let her guard down, though she pulled her meager scrap of clothing closer in what could have been mistaken as a display of fear. Truth be told she always felt anxious around so many individuals. It made her spines twitch and her eyes dart and filled her not with fear, but with indecision.

The corners were full. The tables were full. The only empty seat she could see was at the bar itself, beside a blue coloured alien. Hesitantly, taking the advice of her vessel, she took a seat and quietly ordered an alcoholic beverage of unknown name. But the pirate whose body she resided in seemed content, so she followed suit and tried to feel the same way.

Gingerly she looked around, avoiding eye contact, feeling very much out of her element and wondering why she had come in here, instead of staying out there, in the dark.

Another drink was placed in front of him. Had he ordered it? Skry couldn't remember. The nitrogen boiled inside its durable vessel, remaining liquid only for a short time before it turned to vapor. And vapor was of no comfort, for it was merely filtered.

He groaned. He didn't want to drink anymore, he was starting to feel sick even before he was starting to feel drunk. He stared at it hazily, letting it spoil to vapor around him. It was too late already, he realized. His vision was blurry and he could feel his sense of balance slipping. How the hell was he going to get home like this?

Skry hardly noticed the cloaked figure who took a seat beside him. He laughed good-naturedly, realizing his situation and saying the first thing that came to mind. He turned slightly, his eyes shut and a sly, stupored smile creased across his beak.

"Heh," he stammered. "I think, I may need a ride home."

Surprised, Skasheel turned to the side and stared. The alien was very obviously drunk, his head lolling about on his shoulders like it wasn't attached properly. Skasheel suppressed a hiss and turned her attention back to her drink, eyeing the cubes of frozen water that swilled about in the odd coloured substance.

She didn't trust it, despite her vessel urging her on. It smelled wrong, like poison. And if it had the same effect on her that it did on the alien beside her, then she was having none of it. There seemed no joy in being reduced to a slobbering imbecile who couldn't even speak properly. Disgusted she pushed the glass away and instead watched the Klexian out of the corner of her eye.

Skasheel said nothing. She just watched. Intrigued and faintly amused.

Skry waited for a response. Nothing; the stranger ignored him. But why? He wasn't trying anything funny and he wasn't offering violence, and so he decided the reaction he got was due to this bar-goer's sour nature. Feeling playful and unable to accept being ignored, he tried again. Skry snapped his fingers in front of the hooded figure's face twice and spoke up again. "Hey, what's wrong, don't speak English? Come on, now, help a guy out..." he prattled on. He laughed again, as though amused by his own slurred clicking.

Annoyed she grabbed the Klexian's hand and pushed it away, feeling the deep cold seeping from underneath his exosuit. To say the Ing wasn't intrigued was an understatement: she had never seen a Klexian before, nor had she heard say of the species before now. Something completely new. Something she could learn about, if given the chance. Mayhap a new playtoy.

Ignoring the question, Skasheel leaned forwards, her fingers interlaced and her head leaning on her knuckles, and grinned.

"Just what are you?" she growled lowly, unused to speaking aloud. Maybe she could take advantage of this new being and his… Altered state of mind. Maybe in the near future she could finally be something different for a change. Maybe, if she played her cards right.

"Right now?" Skry paused, chuckling a bit. "Pretttty damn drunk, I'd say."

"Ah, yes, I can see that," Skasheel responded quietly, perplexed. Despite herself, the smallest inklings of a smile were beginning to spread across her face. In a manner only befitting of the closest of friends, Skasheel draped an arm over the drunk alien's shoulder and pulled him in close.

"I'll get you home," she hissed. "Don't worry."

"Eheh, yeah, that's a little close for comfort sweetheart," Skry responded, pushing the stranger's arm off his shoulder. "'Cause, you know, I, just met you..."

He groaned, ran a hand over his forehead and back into his feathers before resting his head on the bar counter. "You know, you're kinda creepy, I'm not sure I want that ride anymore," he said, laughing slurrily. He wasn't sure if it was sarcastic or serious.

"Oh, come now," Skasheel prodded, her voice, though deep and gravelly and with its curious hollow undertones, sounding for all the world like oil and honey. "You're not in the right frame of mind, my dear friend. Please, let me help you."

She proceeded to pull the drunk alien to his feet, putting on the best show of friendliness that she could.

"Please," she said once more, her eyes flashing bright orange. "Let me help."

The stranger looked Skry straight in eye and spoke connivingly. Even in his stupor, Skry could sense a certain deception beneath her hollow voice and it gave him all the more reason not to trust her.

But for all his usual intelligence and good judgement, his thoughts were clouded with nitrogen. Skry's wings drooped and he struggled to find footing. He looked the stranger over and smiled. His only response was inane and barely understandable.

"Damn you're ugly," he slurred. His smile never faltered, and, wobbling slightly, he made his way out of the bar and into the darkened city streets. He found that he still had enough wherewithal to walk.

With burning eyes she watched the Klexian wobble from the bar and out into the streets before putting her head into her hands and sighing. What point was there, really? She was most likely the last of her people and she didn't even know what she was doing anymore. She couldn't leave her vessel without dying and she couldn't just plain be herself. She had to keep herself hidden away behind a stolen face 24/7. Skasheel was even starting to forget what she really looked like and the thought was distressing, to say the least.

With an annoyed growl for thinking such thoughts, she stood abruptly and left the bar, out into the cold dark of this alien world. Immediately she turned right and into a dark alley, where the lights from outside deigned to enter. Here she almost at once felt at home and the tension melted away by small degrees.

Then the anger hit her full force.

Yelling would only draw attention, so she kept it inside. Instead she lashed out angrily at the nearest wall, drawing stolen pirate claws down the tempered steel surface with the sound of grinding metal. The reality of everything came crashing down again, like it did every few weeks or so. Last of her kind. Hostile dimension. Couldn't be herself. She couldn't take it anymore.

She screamed, the dual tones of the pirate's voice and her ethereal vocals intertwining into a spine tingling discordance. She didn't care who heard, she only wanted to be as loud as possible. Maybe then, would these pitiful creatures of the light understand her hatred.

Skry turned around. What the hell was that noise? His curiosity piqued, he walked heavily over into the alley that had been the source of the noise. His wings twitched in confusion as he looked around. He couldn't see anything in this darkness, and even if he could it would most likely be blurred.

"Hello?" He asked, unsure of why he was investigating. He moved ever deeper into the alley.

She turned towards the sound and hissed, retreating further into the oppressive gloom to the point where only the glow of her eyes shone forth. She was having second thoughts, about everything. Possessing the Klexian with his unique biology. She wanted to know and learn and destroy his mind so that his body could be hers. She wanted to warp his carapace into spikes and darken his countenance.

But what point was there when she was the last of her kind. There was none. She just wanted to go home.

"Go away," she hissed, turning away.

Once she spoke Skry realized he recognised the voice. It was the pirate who had tried to help him in the bar.

"What's wrong with you?" he slurred, partly concerned, and partly curious.

"What's wrong with me?" she parroted, spicing her words with hateful bile and spite. "What's wrong with you, you can't even speak properly."

Skry groaned, he rolled his eyes and laughed. "Fuck you, I'm drunk."

In return she laughed as well, though with decidedly much more sadism.

"Drunk! Is that what you call it? You look absolutely retarded to me."

Skry sighed, he put a hand to his forehead. "Yeah, probably do," He cocked a fringe and looked slyly at her. "I'll be fine in an hour or... then the headaches come, hehe," he laughed. His head was starting to hurt already.

"God damn, you're so laid back," she snarled, annoyed by his cheery good will in the face of her scathing sarcasm. Without thinking she grabbed him by the neck and pushed him up against the wall, hoping to wipe that goofy grin off his face.

"Stop smiling all the time you're making my head hurt, too."

Skry stopped smiling and shook his head vigorously. "Shit! What is your problem?!" he called out angrily.

His delicate wings were flattened against the hard wall. The pirate had a firm grip on his neck and he struggled to breath. Drunk or not, he didn't like being handled this way by anyone, not to mention a fela. He snarled right back at her and lashed at her arm with his tail. "Get off, freak!"

He had stopped smiling. Good. His optimism had made her feel nauseous. It was unnatural to her and she didn't like it. So when he responded with anger as well she found that she was the one smiling, instead. Regardless of the hateful words he was now slinging at her.

"Now now," she cajoled, caressing his face with a whispy tendril of darkness. Though she could feel the burn from this dimension, she didn't let it bother her, for it was weak at best. "Struggling only makes the possession hurt more."

"Possession? What the hell?" he gave her an expression of laughable disbelief. "And I thought I was the one who was drunk..." he laughed again, a habit that seemed to be getting him into deeper and deeper trouble.

"Get off before you hurt yourself," he retorted, trying to push her away from him with his tail and claws. He wasn't about to let what was happening happen, especially not in this state of mind.

His laughter made her frown in anger and the amusement faded. He didn't believe her. Why would he? She was the last of her people, and even then, when the Ing Horde had been at its prime, the only ones to know of them were the Luminoth and the Space Pirates. The Ing were an unknown race, by and far. Of course this arrogant Klexian would not understand.

Skasheel was getting far too excited for her own good. The prospect of finally having a different vessel than this wretched pirate was invigorating and the burn of the light was no longer a concern. In the darkness, for a moment, she could finally be herself again, and regardless if the Klexian believed her or not, she would have what she had originally set her sights on.

"I'm the mad one, right?" she taunted, the gaseous black mist of herself slowly sinking into the Klexian's cold, cold form. "I hope this is exceedingly painful, you arrogant twit."

"What are you doing?!" The Klexian cried, more in confusion than anything else. It was as though molten acid had been poured into his suit and was permeating every chilled muscle in his body. "What... are you doing.. to me," slurred words poured out.

Skry felt the pirate's hold slacken just slightly and he pushed himself away. His mind was beginning to return to him and he trudged away, however unbalanced, as fast as his legs could carry him. His nares twitched violently as he breathed rapidly, icy air fogging before him. He clutched his head, it was pounding. A hangover already? Or something entirely different? He hissed, he hadn't expected such a painful onslaught. Whatever the wretched pirate had done to him, it hurt like hell. "You bitch! What the fuck is this?" he closed his eyes, shaking his head as though to rid himself of the pain.

Skasheel hissed, like she always did. Her prey had pushed her away, broken the connection. Quickly she regained control over the pirate, sinking into his body like black water, before scrambling to her feet.

In the brief moment of connection, she had felt his mind. Hazed by liquid nitrogen and fuzzy, but full of information.

"Your name is Skry," she growled, trying to catch his attention. She felt so weak; failed possession attempts almost always brought with them fatigue. "Your people are scattered across the galaxy. Your home planet is a boiling wasteland. You just want to stop being lonely…"

Exhausted she had a hard time finding her feet and struggled to stand, instead opting to sit on the cold hard ground, breathing heavily.

Skry growled. He reflected briefly on the pirate's words. How had she known all that about him? He realized the creature had attempted some sort of merging with him, and it made him sick to his core. He felt invaded, humiliated. What else had she learned that she was simply not saying? Memories, thoughts, dreams, all manner of private things, had they all been available to her?

He turned to the pirate and stared hatefully, a prideful vengeance welling up in his clouded mind. "How dare you.." he sneered. "What, and you think you're going to cure my loneliness by invadingme?! You sniveling freak!" His back arched, his tail to the air, he let loose a vicious snarl and struck the pirate across her back.

She cried out in pain and collapsed, her exoskeleton cracking loudly against the concrete.

"Cure yourloneliness?" she spat, black blood leaking from her mouth. "You act like I actually give a fuck about you."

Unable to move all she could do was lay there and laugh at the idiocy of Skry's statements, amused by how he seemed to think it was all about him.

"Well you cared enough to try to possess me, so really, no, I'm flattered," he hissed.

He paced around her, maintaining an aggressive, almost primal pose. His feathers arched in a frill around his head as he snarled. "You're a parasite, a shapeless, body-stealing freak. I'd be a crime to even call you a living thing, you've barely half a life!" The nitrogen had all but left his system, though he still tottered slightly when he walked. He was angry now, pure and simple, and he stared spitefully down at the creature who had so horribly wronged him.

"Oh, stop," Skasheel replied with a twisted grin. "You're making me blush."

Her instincts told her to maim and kill and steal. Her body would not let her. She was far, far too weak after her failed attempt. She was vulnerable, defenseless, and Skry knew it. So all she did was grin, her burning eyes never once leaving his.

"Heh, right, I didn't know those were pick-up lines," he smirked. Seeing the fela bleeding and helpless, it was rather hard to keep up with his angry instincts. Skry's feathers fell back to their flattened state and he relaxed his stance. He spat at the ground near her and turned away, shaking his head. "Don't worry, you're not worth the time it'd take to kill you."

The grin faded as the reality of it all sunk in. Laying helpless was much, much worse than him killing her. She couldn't even move, let alone get up and walk away. Moving even her head to watch him was exhausting; left vulnerable to the night was a fate worse than death.

Panic blossomed in her mind. Though she was a creature that had originated in a completely different dimension she still had a basic need to survive, to live. Cringing in pain she tried to crawl towards him, towards what she viewed as safety.

"No, stop," she whimpered. "Don't leave."

Though she much preferred the darkness, for the first time, the light seemed to hold much more promise. Another grunt, another failed attempt to crawl away from the dark nothingness that would surely take advantage of her vulnerable state. It wasn't sentient life that frightened her, it was the surge of pests that followed in its wake, scrounging for food in the darkness, away from prying eyes. Mindless and ferocious, much like the very people she had come from.

"I'll die by myself."

Skry stopped in his path and cocked his head back to glance at her. Despite her pathetic appearance, after what she had done it was hard to forgive her, and Skry felt no pity whatsoever. The fact that she even expected such a reaction made him sick and angry; she didn't deserve it.

"You'll die, huh," he replied quietly. The sound of ice forming, as a blackened blade coalesced on his right forearm. Skry shot her a sinister smile. "Maybe I should help the process along? This world would be better off without a wretch like you."

"Maybe it will, maybe it won't," she agreed. "I just don't want to die."

It had been the sole reason she had been around for so long, despite the destruction of her home dimension. Death was a very real threat, and it scared her something awful to the point that all her actions were her running from it. She didn't want to face the possibility of not existing anymore; it was far, far too frightening.

"Please just take me with you," she begged. "Don't leave me here. I just- I don't want to die. I don't want to die."

Roles had reversed; and Skry very much doubted that he would have received the mercy the pirate was now so desperately begging for. He snarled, he made his way to her fallen form and grabbed her by the neck. He pushed her back against a lamp-lit wall, her feet dangling beneath her, and put his blade to her throat.

"You're pathetic," he spat. "You attempt to take my body, and now that you've failed you're weak. You're expecting help, after that?" His blade drew ever closer and his eyes remained locked onto hers. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slash your stolen throat right here and now."

Skasheel was feeling far too cowardly for her own good, and she hated herself for it. In her natural form she would have slit his throat for saying such travesties. Her? Half a life form? No more than a parasite? He had no idea what he was talking about. If he were forced into a different dimension that he could not survive in, he'd take drastic measures to survive, too.

The Ing method of dealing with her problems by way of brute force and ferocity was out of the question. She was weak now, like him. She was no more than a commoner. She had no great strength or abilities to fall back on anymore, and all she could do was grovel pathetically.

The sleek edge of his scythe-like blade glinted so brilliant in the meager lamp light, and she shivered. Not from his ever present cold, but from fear of death. Her stolen claws scrambled for purchase against his arm but he was far too strong, and she far too weak.

Skasheel knew there was no reason for him to spare her life. Maybe he was right, she realized with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she was nothing more than a parasite.

"I…" she started, finding it hard to speak with his hand so tight around her throat. "I… I have no reason."

The truth hurt.

"I just don't want to die. I'm scared."

"How sad for you..." he slurred simply. He felt no empathy, no reason to see this creature as anything more than she was; a disease, a parasite, something which should be destroyed. Without a second thought he ran the blade clean through her throat, the icy surface melting slightly with the contact of blood.

Though the flesh had never truly been hers, it hurt all the same. Terrified she retracted her presence from the swiftly dying pirate even as she felt it slump the ground, clutching at its throat with its own free will. Away from the pain all she could do was watch futilely as her vessel's life blood slowly drained, its actions becoming less and less frantic. With no more flesh and blood vessel she, too, would surely die given enough time, and the fear of that was enough to drive her from the pirate in a sudden surge of black smoke.

There was no time to think, only to do. Without any hesitation she descended on Skry, not to possess him, but his exosuit. With no mind, no will, there was nothing to fight back. And even in her weakened state she quickly found new residence in the cold wires and steel of his machinery.

Almost immediately Skry's exosuit took on a darker hue, the blues darkening to more insidious purples and blacks. But without her conscious exertion no more of her possession showed save for the colour change. She was too tired to do anything else except become quiet, almost giddy with excitement at her close call with death.

The satisfaction of the kill didn't last long as Skry felt his body wracked with pain. The creature had left its previous host and somehow infiltrated his cybernetics. An integral part of his body, and one he had been with since birth, he felt the take-over as closely as he would had it been his true body. Darkness swirled around him and filled his suit with a eery violet. Skry spat and gagged as a dreadful taste filled his mouth, and his vision became hazed over with a blackened hue.

This was it; a parasite in his suit? Surely now he was resigned to death. One small alteration, to the regulator, the respirator, anything, would leave him vulnerable to the hostile world around him. For his lungs to be scorched with burning air. For his methane-filled blood to boil and turn to vapor within him. Skry pondered for a moment exactly how painful it would be to have every organ within him vaporize; it was enough to make him fall to his knees and writhe in panic.

She was all too aware of the agony she had caused him, though she hadn't expected it by far. The Klexian's exosuit was as much a part of him and just as crucial to his survival as the darkness was to her, it seemed. An interesting if not unforeseen development.

Curious she prodded around at his internal mechanisms, still too out of it to do anything other than watch and observe. Something deep inside his stomach regulated his chilling temperature and the wires that sprouted from it ran to every inch of his body like synthetic roots. She made a mental note not to fool with it; anything more than a look would most likely kill him, and she had no interest in killing her host.

"Stop struggling," Skasheel hissed, speaking through his machinery, directly into his head. "I won't hurt you."

She didn't know if she was telling the truth or not, but she didn't dwell on it. Merely said nothing more and became quiet, content, for now, just to exist.

"Stop it!" he cried, anguished. "Stop talking!"

Her voice was like all threats of death and darkness creeping in on his mind. It was unbearable to feel the foreign presence, the parasitic monstrosity having full control over his life support. Her promise not to hurt him was empty, and it gave him no respite from the fear. It was as though letting a snake full of venom and hate to crawl upon one's neck, as though one tiny mistake would end the precarious relation in a heartbeat.

It was now he who couldn't move. The mechanical joints of his armor now belonged to someone else- and they felt filthy and foreign. He couldn't move unless she let him, and the thought sickened him. Her will was like a poison that filled every fibre of his being and he simply wanted it to end.

"Get out!"

Skry's cries for her to stop talking sparked her own hatred and against her better judgment she decided to let her hatred be known.

"NO,"was all she said, before taking hold of his arm and twisting it against his will. He could do nothing to stop it; the pitiful strength of his organic muscles were no match for the synthetic machinery that constituted a good portion of his body, and she felt devious delight in the sudden sharp crack the movement elicited.

"I'll keep speaking as much as I like," she continued, unabated. "Don't ever tell me what to do."

She spoke with poisonous vitriol, and filled his head with her anger, black as the sky was dark. Though she could do no more at that point then pitifully flail his arms, she could lock his muscles in place and leave him unable to move, as she had been no more than a few minutes earlier.

In his mind, she laughed, a dark sound like rolling thunder, and kept his entire body locked rigid.

"Agh.." he cried weakly as his arm twisted against his will. He wanted desperately for the nightmare to end but he knew begging would get him nowhere. Either way, he realized it was his fault. He had let his aggression get the better of him and it had nearly cost him his life; it had certainly cost him his freedom. It was of some comfort that the thing at least seemed to have no effect on his body temperature; she had adapted and modified her own to match his. If she hadn't been able to, they would both likely be dead.

Skry wondered; could a parasite be reasoned with? Bargained with? He decided it was worth a
try; anything to free himself.

"What do you want... What do I have to do to get you out?" he snarled, restraining his temper.

Skasheel paused to think, momentarily releasing her iron grip on his exosuit.

"You… Don't understand, do you?" she asked quietly, her voice low. "I'm not leaving. I can't survive without a host. I will die. All I want to do is live."

She deliberated for a moment: destroy and torture, or sit back and let him have control. In a rare streak of good nature she sat back and loosened completely her hold on his body, granting him back full will.

Though she felt hatred burn at the back of her mind she ignored it. She was much, much too tired and exerting her control was tiring at best. Silent she let her control fade away, and said, and did, no more.

Her voice echoed in his head like wind blowing through a hollowed skull. Where exactly it was coming from was hard to know, as it was as intangible as energy. Slowly Skry realized he could move again, and the shaking stopped; he no longer strained himself to resist.

Was she gone? Or merely retreated for the moment within him? He shivered. It was disgusting to think about. Shakily he stood up. A cursory glance told him he was fine, not much had changed except the color of his exosuit, which had taken on a violet tinge. Strange, yes, but at the very least not dangerous.

Skry gave a quick glance at the pirate whose body lay limp at the foot of the alley wall. Perhaps his act was cruel, but at least now the pirate host was free. In turn, Skry had taken his burden.

He walked back to the street, where the once comforting light of the streetlamps seemed dismally bright. Strangely enough, the light hurt the wiring within his optical overlay and he squinted, looking down at the ground. A side effect, no doubt. Swallowing the discomfort in his cybernetics he walked back into the bar where all the trouble had started. He slumped into a chair and held the bridge of his nares in his claw. He had frequented this place for so long, and only now was he realizing just how discomforting the damned lighting was.

"Fuck, I don't think I've ever needed a drink so badly in my life."

Ing did not sleep, they merely rested. So where Skry gingerly made his way back to the bar, Skasheel watched with half attention. The coldness of his body made no difference to her. Nor did the heat of her previous host. Temperature had no hold, only the constant swing of light and dark.

For a moment she felt the smallest pang of regret. It wasn't that she disliked her previous host by any stretch, it was simply that the Klexian was a more suitable host. She stopped herself and examined her thoughts. She was thinking light basedthoughts. Emotions that had never surfaced in her mind before. Empathy, however small. It disgusted her.

She watched as Skry took a heavy seat and ordered another drink, and she tutted.

"What are you doing?" was all she said, annoyed by his subpar habits.

"Trying to get a buzz going, do you mind?" He said, quite loudly. The bartender gave him a quizzical look before shrugging it off and leaving. After all, talking to oneself was more or less expected in a place like this.

A parasite in his suit, and the only thing he could think to do was drown out the thought of it with a drink. Pathetic, maybe, but Skry didn't care. He wanted to forget, to regain that state of mind he had lost earlier where every stranger was blurred, friendly and enticing.

The bartender served him his drink with a protective glove, in a steely little shot glass full of clear, clouding liquid. Not wasting time with etiquette, Skry grabbed the tiny thing, stared at it for a moment and poured the whole thing down. It was pleasantly cold, even to him, and it was a welcome distraction from the burning, itching, alien feel of his infested cybernetic half.

"I do mind, yes," Skasheel snapped, thoroughly annoyed. "If your idiotic grin when I first met you is anything to go by, you're going to be a slobbering imbecile in no time. What the hell is wrong with you?"

She tried to manipulate his delicate machinery, to stop the advance of the liquid, but it had already dissolved into his bloodstream before she realized what had happened. A flare of anger at her vessel's incompetence. At least the pirate she had lived with for so long had the decency to ask her these things beforehand. This Klexian was rude and ostentatious and did things of his own will; a combination she found very distasteful.

Once again she found herself mourning the loss of her previous vessel, and this time she allowed her thoughts to be voiced, lamenting the pirate's sudden death in a show of sadness.

"Perhaps the phrase is overused, but," Skry began, slamming the shotglass down hard on the bar counter. "It's my fucking body, and I'll do whatever the hell I please."

He could hear her, distantly, something emotive and decisively negative. Skry was certainly no empath but the forced proximity to the parasite was making her thoughts somewhat tangible and it peeved him to no end. It was hard to enjoy fake happiness when a being was inside him spreading a sickening and depressing miasma.

He groaned, his head shaking. "Goddamn, you're a downer, can't you go infest the bartender or something instead?"

For a moment Skasheel stole motor control of his head and turned to stare at the barkeeper, ignoring the obvious distress it afforded the Klexian. A moment later she released and let him know her distaste.

"No. I like you better."

"Ow, fuck," Skry mumbled. The fact that she could control his movements at will was enraging. He took some solace in the fact that the creature seemed to be inhabiting a relatively small portion of his body. Though his cybernetics were a very integral part of him, there was a clear, defined barrier between them and his biological body. At least the thing wasn't invading his thoughts anymore. At least, not yet. Remembering that was enough to make him want to gag.

"Well you can screw off, the feeling's not mutual," he said calmly, his eyes glazed downward as he fiddled with his empty glass. Though he knew she had no intention of leaving, there was really nothing he could do to force her. He merely offered useless and spiteful words which, despite their futility, game him a little satisfaction.

"Fine," she replied, nonplussed. "You have a good time being a pissy pants. Just stop insulting meand we'll get along fine."

With that she settled down and resigned herself to watching. As long as she was alive and in no immediate danger, she saw no need to control Skry's cybernetics. As long as he was in good health, despite his anger over the whole situation, there was no need to do anything more than watch. So she did.

And then he came in, drunk off his gourd and with a voice as big as his body. Skasheel paid him no heed. Just another drunk alien come to haze his mind with alcohol. She mentally shuddered, involuntarily sending the shake through Skry's body, as well, without meaning to. She was having a hard time understanding why these people found so much solace in something that made them so erratic and proceeded to stop paying attention to anything, preferring instead the comfort of her own mind.

"Whatever," he replied simply. No point in fighting, he decided. Not unless she instigated something. "Just don't overstep yourself, or I'll send us both to hell."

Only now did Skry begin to notice the lumbering bulk who had made his way into the bar. Probably drunk from somewhere else and only here to prolong his stupor, and he made his way straight to the Klexian at the counter.

"Who're ya talking too bud?" he said confrontationally. Green, bulky, with four yellow eyes and drooping pierced ears, a disgusting, black maw and a snout and nares twice as ugly. And by all his actions he was very clearly an angry type of drunk.

"Just a lady friend," Skry said quietly.

"Oh yeah? Where is she, is she hot?"

"No, not really. She's a bit of a bitch and about as attractive as you."

"Hahahaa yeah you're funny, real funny. Prettier 'an you at least," he snarled. Skry didn't respond. He didn't feel like starting something with a drunken stranger, less so after what he'd just had to deal with.

But the green one was relentless, and he wasn't giving up without a response.

"Hey, you heard me right? Got nothing left to say?"

Again Skry was silent, and offered no rebuttle.

"I'm talking to you, and you'd damned well better listen," the green alien growled, rising from his stool and pushing Skry off his own. The Klexian staggered backwards, not expecting the contact. His tail waggered as he refocused his stance and looked back towards his offender.

It wasn't the drunken alien that caught her attention, it was the insult.

"You fucking asshole," she had begun to mutter. "Right after I tell you not to insult me you-"

The following tumble really got her anger started. As Skry clambered back to his feet she got a good look at their attacker and instantly felt revulsion. Of course, she thought. He was drunk, too. A big burly sack of drunken idiocy. Why oh why did these people willingly partake in something so mind altering?!

"Heh, that got your attention, didn't it?" the green monster taunted. A glob of drool fell in almost frustratingly slow motion from one of his oversized lips and he laughed, sounding for all the world like an entire lumber mill compressed into a single being.

"I've come to a conclusion," Skasheel snapped in the back of Skry's head. "The entire population of your dimension is comprised of idiots."

"Yeah well I'd like to see the supposed utopia you come from," he mumbled in response.

The bile-inducing creature before him was clearly looking for a fight. And Skry wasn't one to run. If it came to a drunken beatdown, he was all for it.

"Yeah, you have my attention, ass-clown. So now what?" he said snidely, deciding to wait and see his reaction before he pulled out the stops.

He didn't have long to wait before the drunken creature charged him, yelling slurred and crudely. He threw a clumsy punch in Skry's direction, one the mercenary found he could easily dodge. The alien's momentum carried him forward, and it took a full two seconds for him to turn around and try again. Again, an overshot, and Skry remained unscathed. This was pathetic, he thought, too easy and boring because it presented no challenge. Moving fast he took the drunk's arms in a half nelson and struck him hard in the back of the head.

Unfortunately the strike at the green alien's head did not have the desired effect: there was an almost hollow sounding donk, followed by an angry growl and the slow rise of the alien colossus. He rubbed the back of his head, slowly, as though it took him a moment to realize what had happened. Without thinking Skasheel jumped back, assuming control once again despite what she knew would be an eternity of protests.

"His skull is too thick, just like yours," she spat. Just as quickly she dropped away, letting him move his limbs. She didn't trust herself at all to do any fighting in her condition. She still felt far too weak to do anything else than impede his movement, though the temptation was surely there.

"But… Maybe if you let me in just a little more, I can help. All you have to do is say yes…"

She was speaking, of course, of full control over his entire body, more than just his exosuit. A full possession would grant her host substantially more power and abilities, but as is she couldn't do anything unless he gave her permission. Skry would put up an internal fight, and she didn't want to deal with that.

The alien lumbered towards them once more. Though his attacks and movements were slow and predictable, he had power and stamina on his side. A combination of traits that meant they would be at this for a long while still if something wasn't done.

"Forget it, freak," Skry snorted. There wasn't a chance in hell he was going to hand his body over to her. He remembered all too well the unpleasant burning and terrifying sensation of having his thoughts invaded by an alien. It wasn't anything he wanted to experience again. "You think I need that kind of help to beat a drunk? You're kidding right?" Honestly he could see the offer as just another pathetic attempt for the parasite to claim what she had wanted all along, and Skry wasn't having it. He wasn't anywhere near the sort of desperation that called for its acceptance.

The drunk charged again, fists primed, and Skry caught them square as they bared down on him. Easily he could've drawn his blade and cut the foul alien's neck right there. But in front of this many people, going lethal wasn't a risk worth taking; he was still sober enough to realize that. So he held him there, fighting against the brute's considerable strength. The pure weight of his opponent was pushing him back, sliding his feet across the polished floor. Thinking quickly, Skry released his hold and swiveled to the side, using his tail like a whip in a heavy, vicious slash at the brute's back.

Annoyed. That's what she was. Annoyed, pure and simple. Maybe her best bet was just to wait until she regained enough strength to just take him by force. Certainly, he was handling the situation quite well. If she had been in his place, she'd have killed the damn drunk way before now, instead of resolutely outwitting him.

There was a loud thud, and the alien had fallen to the ground, a fresh welt across his back where the Klexian's tail had made contact. Skasheel huffed.

"All things in time," she muttered, once again putting everything in ignore. "All things in time."

The drunk groaned and Skry realized he probably wasn't getting up. He allowed himself to relax. The bar-goers stopped staring and went back to their usual business.

The parasite, in turn, responded to his backlash in complacent and chilling words.

"Fat chance," he replied. "I'd take my own life before I'd give it to you," he mumbled. And it was true, as horrible as it might have been to imagine it, he knew would rather be dead than let the parasite take over.

Satisfied in his victory and thoroughly sick of drinking, the Klexian left the bar. It was still the dead of night, and the streets were dark, illuminated only by dully-lit street lamps. Good, he thought, light was annoying now anyways. Exhausted, he started his way back home. Walking was slow but he didn't trust himself to drive, especially with a much larger liability than nitrogen in his veins.

The departure from the bar was a nice change of pace and Skasheel was already enjoying it. The cold, dark night air was refreshing to both of them, it seemed, and it rejuvenated her spirits, if not her woefully inadequate strength. At that her mood dropped, becoming not angry so much as discontent, regretful. Gloomy.

She was in no mood right now to heckle Skry or otherwise make a nuisance of herself. What was the point in such frivolous games? They were both exhausted, a sentiment shared without complaint. They both wanted to rest. At least, she knew she did. And the combined tiredness of Skry only added to hers; she had never felt so tired in her life. Or that she could remember.

Would he really take his own life, she wondered in passing. Most probably. It was a curious notion that these creatures of the light valued their individuality so high that they were willing to end it all just to remain free. Something else she was having a hard time comprehending. First it was mind altering drinks and now this. Skasheel doubted she would ever fully understand the intricacies of this dimension.

It bothered her but she tried not to dwell on it for too long and instead watched with half a mind through Skry's eyes. The night was too beautiful to go unnoticed, and watching the dark shadows go by made her feel but an iota better.

The walk home was longer than Skry remembered. Probably because he rarely walked it. The parasite hadn't spoken up throughout the duration of the journey and that fact came as a great relief.

When he finally got home, he was almost too exhausted to stand, and his first instinct was to resign himself to his quarters and sleep. But a terrible thought occurred to him; what would happen if he slept? He wondered for a moment if the parasite's silence was merely a deception, that she was lying in wait for him to become vulnerable so that she could take over. Sleep, perhaps, would afford her such a chance.

So despite his obvious exhaustion, he was too scared to sleep. He avoided the pleasant comfort of the couch and bedroom and remained instead at the door, awake. He sighed, everything felt twice as heavy as it had been and he didn't truly have the strength to stand. Slowly he slumped down, his back against the door, which shut with a slam upon his hitting the floor.

Tired, so tired, and yet he refused to allow himself sleep.

His resistance to sleep surprised her. She had wholly been expecting him to crash into his bed and fall asleep without any hesitation, and all she had been planning during that time was to rest, herself. So it came as a sudden surprise when instead he fell against the door and stared resolutely at the far wall.

Despite her proud mindset, she allowed herself a laugh. It was almost impressive, watching the new schemes her vessel hatched. She felt almost humbled by his resolute will. Almost.

"Your resistance is certainly admirable," she started, speaking quietly. Even in the sanctity of his head it didn't feel right to yell. "But sooner or later you'll need to sleep. It's what your kind does."

She laughed again, finding morbid amusement in his conflict.

"You know, if you go insane from lack of sleep, it just makes it easier for me."

"Shut up," that was all he offered. He didn't feel like arguing with her. This time he really didn't have the energy.

She was right, of course. Sooner or later he would need to sleep and there was no doubt in his mind that she would take advantage of that state to finish what she had started. He wondered briefly the course his life would take if he simply gave up the fight. To have another being control him, to command his movements and invade his thoughts and dreams. No. It would be a nightmarish existence and he was certain in his own promise to kill himself before he'd let it happen.

So what now? Skry wondered. Was he simply to wait out the time until he was too exhausted to resist and then slit his own throat? His options at this point were decisively dismal.

Once Skry had had dreams of a better life for himself. Of a time when killing for a living was no longer needed and where he could find another of his species to share his life with. A small smile creased his beak when he thought about it. That little fantasy, however, died before it started, tonight, when he had been infested with a life-form whose mere presence signed the end of everything.

Waiting, simply waiting. Waiting to die. He had accepted it, there was not much else he could do but wait. He was tired, in the deepest throes of depression and hopelessness. Everything had changed so quickly and Skry surprised himself with how quickly he had accepted it all.

"Oh my goooood," Skasheel whined, annoyed by the flood of depression and worthlessness that had started to flood from him. "For fuck's sake stop being so god damned emo, I'm trying to rest."

She took a moment to examine his feelings as best she could from his exosuit. Though the connection wasn't as resolute as it had been that brief moment earlier, when she had made contact with his mind, she could still feel his emotions and thought patterns. Once again she found herself feeling somewhat guilty for the whole predicament, blaming it once more on her forced proximity to these creatures of the light.

Maybe it would be better if she just stopped annoying him, maybe at least tried to build a bridge of trust. Her last vessel, the pirate, had willingly become her host and she had enjoyed its friendship. Skry, however, was proving to be a wild card. She sighed.

"Okay look, I'm sorry for this whole ordeal, yeah?" she started, unsure what she was getting at. Maybe his depression was rubbing off on her. It left a feeling of distaste in her mind. "But just… Stop. It's not the end of the world, really. If I wanted to take you over completely I would have tried already. Just stop being such a twit already. Please."

"If you want to stop feeling what I do, then get out," he spat back. He wasn't interested in anything the parasite had to say. And yet one word stood out to him, and for a brief moment, he truly listened.

"You're sorry? You're sorry?" he snorted. "Somehow I doubt you have the ability to feel remorse, you pathetic waste of matter." Skry's depression quickly gave rise to anger. Anger at himself, anger over the fight, and most of all anger at the unforgivable invasion by the thing within him.

"If you won't leave, I'll make you leave," he mumbled. It was nearly a whisper, meant mostly for himself. He wondered where the thing would go if it was forced to leave him. Clearly it needed some sort of living, electrical thing to meld with, be it the circuits in his cybernetics or the living body of a host. Where, then, would she go? There were a number of electronics in his apartment, immovable, mindless vessels wherein she would be trapped, at least until the land-lord discovered his corpse and rented the room to someone else. Then she would be their problem.

But the future didn't matter anymore, not to him. Resolute, decisive, in a flash he drew his icy blade and raised it to his own throat.

Panic flared and she took hold of his arm, the blade so close to his neck that she could feel the keen edge even from this distance. Whether it was a twisted sense of self-preservation or some curious attachment to Skry she did not know. She just didn't want him to die, especially by his own hand. The act of suicide made her feel sick.

"No, stop," she demanded, still speaking quietly, calmly. "You kill yourself and what will become of your race? What will become of you? If you cease to exist, you will have changed nothing."

The new anger bubbling up in him was also admirable. He was a being of mixed and decidedly volatile emotions, despite the intense cold of his body. Maybe if he actually exerted his will he could overcome her; a chilling thought.

But it wasn't as if there was nowhere for her to go if he did slit his throat. She could easily possess one of the myriad electronics and twist it to serve her own will, gaining mobility where before there had only been a clock or a radio. The thought was intriguing and for a moment she dwelled on it. If she left Skry maybe he would calm down considerably. But considering his erratic mindset, maybe he would kill himself anyway. Just to be safe.

Sad thoughts, for sure. Skasheel was growing more soft than she would have liked to admit.

"I'll be rid of you, that's what'll change," he spat. He fought against her with all that he could be he couldn't do it. Oddly it felt as though he were fighting with himself rather than the life-desperate parasite, and in the end he simply gave up. It wasn't happening, not now. The blade melted away and he slackened, exhausted from the effort. It wasn't every day he had to fight his own cybernetics with his far weaker, biological body. The sensation was odd, to say the least.

"Extinction is the inevitable outcome for us. One less won't make a difference," he said. "I might as well save the universe the trouble of purging us itself, as it seems so keen to."

Now resigned to talking, for once again he couldn't do much else. "No planet to go to, no way to find each other," he snorted in sadistic laughter. "It'd be a miracle if I had ever found another in my own life time."

Skasheel laughed in a pitiful attempt at changing the mood, only to make it somehow worse. Ing laughter was much akin to rumbling thunder, to a distant, malevolent evil. Not something suitable to lightening the mood. So instead, she retreated back as far as she possibly could, relinquishing all of her control and reducing her presence to nothing more than an unwanted passenger.

"We're both in the same boat," she whispered, her voice far away. "I don't have anywhere to go, either. Maybe we can help each other, in that aspect."

Without another word she awaited what would most like be his scathing response.

"In the same boat, huh," he laughed "Yeah, literally."

Despite the horrendous sound of her laughter he could feel the emotion behind was somewhat benign, and it was comforting to literally feel that it held no deception. Skry felt her retreat entirely now and his body felt like his own again, the burning sensation that ran through his cybernetics lessened. It was as if she wasn't there. He was surprised by the almost respectful position she was taking with him, perhaps finally empathetic to the invasion he had felt and in turn choosing to lessen those emotions, if only for her own comfort.

"I doubt you'd be of any help. You can't move on your own and you're certainly no Klexian," he said calmly, standing up. Sitting on the floor felt degrading and he felt stronger now, enough to allow him to stand.

"What are the odds of two such rarities meeting, and like this, heh," he growled. "Though honestly if your kind is almost extinct, I can imagine why someone would want to see to that... no offense," he grinned.

"Go fuck yourself," she spat, remembering unwillingly the destruction of her home dimension that ultimately culminated in her being one of the last. Truth be told she had no idea if there were any others out there. She certainly hadn't seen any other possessed creatures running around. The solitude of her existence was claustrophobic and oppressive and it soured her mood to have to remember those vivid memories once more.

Skasheel didn't even know if it were possible to go back at all. The dimension was probably still there, laying parallel to everything she experienced here, but the planet of Dark Aether was most certainly not. It had been destroyed in a fiery explosion of phazon and fire, killing every living thing on its surface.

She hoped the Luminoth and that damnable Hunter were proud of themselves, single handedly killing an entire race who had only just discovered life. The Ing race had been young at the time, only a scant few decades old. The Luminoth, by proxy, had been ancient. Maybe if things had happened differently there would have been no war, only peace.

But her people were fierce at best, and even she didn't think peace was at all possible.

"Go to sleep," she said suddenly, trying to ignore the unwanted memories. "You need it."

"Go fuck yourself," she said spitefully.

He laughed in response. "Not a chance while you're watching," he said crudely. The fact that he was lightening the situation with jokes was a sign of an improved mood, and Skry wondered if a sort of unvoiced truce had occurred between the two beings. It was certainly a better alternative to fighting for control all the time.

"I know I need it..." he began. "But just, not while you're there. It'd be like sleeping while a person with a gun trained on your head stands over you." He surprised himself with how open he was being. Was he actually hoping to induce a sympathetic reaction?

"I suppose you only have my word that I won't do anything untoward," was all the Ing said. She promptly shut herself off to everything, falling not into sleep, but into a deep, dreamless rest. She had no interest in anything other than rest anyhow, and the fact that he was no longer spewing hate at her made her feel less animosity, herself.

"Words are cheap..." he said simply. Skry's was a head full of mixed feelings. Desperately he wanted to sleep. He wanted to be rid of the parasite or at the very least be sure he could trust her not to take him over or destroy him. But he couldn't. His fear and paranoia kept him from what he wanted, but in his mind they kept him safe.

Sleep wasn't happening, at least not willfully. He opted instead to lighten the mood some and strike up a conversation, though he wasn't quite sure if the parasite had a sense of humor.

"Hey listen, you're not gonna lay eggs in my stomach or anything are you?"

His stubborn refusal to fall asleep was impeding on her resting time and she deigned to answer his wholly retarded attempt at conversation. Was she going to lay eggs in his stomach… What a stupid question, she thought with a faceless sneer.

Skry would never trust her if she outright knocked the bastard out. Their trust right now was tenuous at best; anything too out of place and he would fall back into his old habits of yelling angrily at her. Something she did not relish experiencing again.

So, quietly, carefully, she cut off oxygen to his brain by slow, slow degrees. The result was a slow, so very slow, creeping fatigue. Followed by drooping eyes and a strained yawn. And a few minutes later, a Klexian finally asleep.

Satisfied, Skasheel retreated back to her dreamless rest and shut out the world, finally able to listen to her own thoughts without being bothered by her vessel's constant bickering. Finally able to get some rest.

A slow, strenuous yawn escaped Skry's beak and for a moment he felt a twinge of panic. He hadn't realized he was this exhausted, and even his fears of what might happen if he nodded off were hazed and unfocused. Nothing seemed to matter except to let everything go dark...

His luminous green eyes flared open. Jerkily he looked around, dazed and confused. How long had he been out? Had anything happened? Frantic he looked at his body, at his apartment. Everything was the same. The floor was cold from his body as he had lain there, presumably all night. Daylight filtered in through the steel blinds. He could move, think, breath, and he felt no burning, foreign presence in his mind. She had kept her word, much to his surprise. He could hardly feel any sign of her anymore, and though he knew it too good to be true, he wondered for a moment if the whole thing had merely been some nightmarish dream. He had certainly dranken enough for such a thing to happen.

A ringing, loud and obnoxious like the clattering of wind chimes, and it spiked a nauseating headache in Skry. Someone was trying to contact him, to open up a video link. "Fuck, not now, anytime but now..." he groaned, clutching his head. With reluctance he stood up, made his way to the intercom and accepted the transmission. "Hello?"

Skasheel kept quiet and inconspicuous and very much annoyed. Why she made such a promise, unspoken that it was, eluded her. Here she had a perfect vessel to take over whenever she wanted, and she was playing the backseat driver like a common parasite. That would never do.

Skry was, somewhere in his mind, hoping fervently that everything that had happened was naught more than a rather vivid nightmare. She could feel it. The hope was very real; he was trying to delude himself even though he knew the truth. Must have been some sort of coping mechanism, she decided. Klexians were strange.

But she decided to let the alien play his little games for a while and watched without a word. The new alien that appeared on the screen of his intercom was intriguing, to say the least. He had a long beak and beady mechanical eyes, replaced who knew how long ago. His voice was sibilant and high pitched and a spiny frill ran down the back of his head. His mouth was halfway open, but when he saw Skry he seemed to pause in mild confusion, his head tilting to the side.

"Got your exosuit dyed, did you Skry?" he asked with a laugh. "You dog you. Hoping to get more ladies?"

He made a suggestive expression and grinned, awaiting an answer.

Skry laughed in response. So it wasn't a dream then,he thought to himself. He seemed unfazed by the realization. In the back of his mind he had known it all along.

"Yes, you know, it works quite well, in fact I managed to pick up someone last night, but, well, she wasn't exactly my type," he smiled wryly. He wasn't lying, really, but he decided not to go into any more detail. He looked back to his companion and gave him an almost sarcastic expression. "What do you want?"

Skry's reply seemed to intrigue the new alien and his grin only stretched wider.

"You always were a player!" he said loudly, seeming overjoyed. But then his expression seemed to darken an iota, and the joy was tempered by something else. The beaked alien almost seemed ashamed.

"I…" he started, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well we've always been close friends, right? And, well…" He trailed off and glanced behind him, at the amorphous blackness he was calling from.

"I need something," he blurted, seemingly distressed by the fact. "And well. We've been friends forever now. I can count on you, right Skry…?"

"Dammit Vhaso this is the third time this month," he replied, exasperated. Though peeved, he had every intention of helping his friend, but he could no longer give his discretion. "What's going on that you need this kind of help so often?"

"Yeah well about that…"

Vhaso rubbed the back of his neck and an all too apparent display of nervousness and once again glanced behind himself, as though he felt he was being watched. By who, or what, was anyone's guess.

"We've been friends for a long time so I guess I can tell you…" he started, still very much nervous. "See, I kind of like… Well no. Need to buy some new uh,augmentations, and I was hoping that you, dearest Skry, could help me…?"

Skasheel groaned in Skry's head, annoyed through and through by this alien's sniveling mindset and wholly disagreeable personality.

"I mean, no hurry of course," he started. "But if you could meet over northside in a few hours, yeah? Near the industrial complex? Help a bro out…?"

He nodded quickly, looking hopefully at Skry.

Skry sighed, but in the end he nodded.

"Right, sure," he smiled. He had nothing better to do, and it was no trouble to help, even if the frequency of his friend's pleadings was a bit off-putting. He welcomed the idea of seeing a trusted friend again. The company would be comforting, anyway, especially now. Cutting off the communication, he headed out and into the sunlit city streets.

Skasheel had been about to say something when Skry went outside, and though the light didn't seem to have any adverse effects on him, she hissed and squealed in pain and slunk away as far as she possibly could, short of de possessing him and running away. Which would, of course, have been a very bad idea.

"God damn it, Skry," she hissed, her voice like bubbling poison. "Warn me before you go outside next time, please."

Angered by his insolence she came very close to turning him around right then right there and marching them both back into the comforting darkness of his apartment. Instead she bit her tongue and tried to calm her emotions. How he could so willingly prance around out here without going blind was another horrifying mystery that she didn't want to see answered.

After a moment she tried to resurface, just a little, and regain her pride.

"I don't trust that… Animal,"she said quietly. "There's something wrong with him."

"Damn it," Skry cursed. Because the parasite was now a part of his cybernetics he felt the distant, unpleasant sensation that she did when exposed to the light. He covered his eyes for a moment, blinking, trying to focus despite the apparent difficulty the light was now giving him.

"Sorry," he muttered. He paused for a moment. Did he really just apologize? To thatthing? It hurt his pride to even acknowledge it, but he shrugged it off and kept walking.

"Vhaso can be a bit.. unstable sometimes. But he's harmless."

Skasheel took his words with a copious amount of cynicism. Something about the Slyfthys who called himself Vhaso rubbed her entirely the wrong way and made her skin crawl. If she had skin. She didn't want Skry to meet him down… Where was it again? The industrial complex up northside? Though she hadn't been on this planet for a horribly long time, she did know the basic ins and outs of the place.

Northside was a barren, lonely area. The industrial buildings down there pointing accusingly at the smog choked sky and few people set foot on its cracked pavement. No plants grew in Northside. No animals lived there save for vermin and pests. There was no reason to go there at all and the whole situation reeked of something even more insidious than her.

"Okay seriously there's something not right here," Skasheel whined, feeling doubt cloud her mind. She didn't like Northside and she did not want to go there. At all.

"I'm sure he has his reasons..." Skry replied, though unsure himself. As he looked around him he noticed how deserted the place looked. He'd never been to this part of the city before and he wasn't thrilled with what he was seeing.

Loose piles of industrial debris were scattered across the barely-visible streets. Dumpsters overflowing with unattended waste lined the empty alleys, and Skry could hear the sounds of thriving verminous creatures in the depths of each putrid pile. The only buildings were tall, lifeless, conglomerates the only employees of which were almost certainly mechanical.

"This place is disgusting," Skry spat without restraint. "Maybe he is off his rocker...Screw him, I'll contact him later, arrange for a more tolerable meeting place. This is just..." He merely shoo

his head. Skry was certainly no nature-lover, but this desolately, over-urbanized placed creeped him out to no end, and he wasn't staying any longer than he had too. So he turned tail to the place and started back to the city.

From all he could observe, the place was void of life, and he was completely unaware that he was being watched.

Skasheel saw something move out of the corner of Skry's eyes and without thinking turned him towards it, ignoring his protests. A moment later, from behind a derelict building, came Vhaso himself. His ludicrously long backwards legs whined as he walked, the hackneyed machinery singing its sad, high pitched song.

"Skry, my good friend," he purred. The light caught on his glass and steel eyes and sent blinding glare into Skry's, momentarily blinding both him and the Ing. The Slyfthys wrung his hands together in a display of apprehension but looked delighted to see the Klexian all the same.

Skasheel sorely wanted to leave. Everything about this was wrong. But he was Skry's friend, and she thought that maybe she was overreacting, and Vhaso was indeed harmless as he had mentioned earlier. There was that chance, after all. She was wholly ignorant in a lot of things these light based creatures did, so she put her trust in her vessel and tried to quell the feelings of dread that continued to taunt her.

"There you are, I was just about to leave. This place is gross," Skry said cockily. "Why would you want to meet me here anyway?"

"I don't know, the place just has a certain charm, for me."

"You would feel that way, ya metal freak," Skry replied in jest. Insults not meant to be taken as anything but friendly.

"I would, wouldn't I?" Vhaso laughed, agreeing, and the almost fraudulent-sounding laughter stopped almost as quickly as it had started. "But seriously now, there's something I wanted to ask you."

Skry looked suspiciously at his friend. The circumstances of where they had met and the certain, erratic way in which he was talking were causing doubt to rise in his mind, and he thought for a moment if his friend was truly all in his right mind.

Vhaso continued. "Skry, my friend, you're so full of cybernetics, ones built by a soon-to-die race. And with them will go all their splendid technology, it's sad, really."

Skry immediately took his words as insults. Soon-to-die? Even Skry could see that was no slip of the tongue, Vhaso was saying that the Klexians were doomed to extinction, and he made light of that fact.

"Soon-to-die? Just what the hell does that mean," he snarled. Old friend or not, the Slyfthys was no longer on good terms with him.

"Nothing!" Vhaso replied quickly, smiling with forced innocence.

"Skryyy," the Ing whined plaintively, sounding for all the world like a small child tugging on an adult's arm. "Let's go, please."

"It's just… I've had my eye on you for quite some time, my friend. You and your beautiful exosuit…" Vhaso's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, and suddenly Skasheel noticed a very large scar that ran clear across his skull and down the front of his head, ending somewhere on his neck.

"It would be such a waste to see it just disappear, aye? Tell me. Are you an organ donar?" When he was met with no response all he did was laugh. "It doesn't matter, now does it. Dearest Skry, please hold still. It'll only hurt for a moment."

Without warning the alien produced a syringe from seemingly nowhere and launched himself as the Klexian, and before Skry even knew what had happened the syringe was already buried in his neck. Almost immediately he fell to the ground, stunned, and Skasheel could do nothing, for though the potent tranquilizer had deigned to knock her out it left her unable to do anything. Unable to move her stolen joints nor manipulate Skry's body. Unable to do anything save stare out of his eyes and yell fruitlessly at his comatose mind.

"I never lie, Skry," Vhaso said with a nasal snigger, before grabbing the drugged alien by the feet and pulling him towards the derelict building he had originally come from. "I never lie… Oh, and thank you for dying your exosuit just for me. Purple always was my favourite colour."