Moth’s Cave

——————————————————

Bill lays on the grass. The simulated grass. The grass that feels so real, yet, fake. Just like his dreams. Can he really get out of this shithole? Every moment in this place is grinding on his sanity and, more importantly, his nerves. He is vaguely aware of the therapist coming up to him. He wonders dully if he could rip her to pieces, use her head on his throne when he gets out of here. She would just be another body for his inevitable-

“Bill?” The therapist calls sweetly. Too sweetly. It sickens him like a stomach ache. He probably is sick. Sick in the head, maybe.

He tears himself from his spiraling as if tearing a rat from a glue trap. Bill trails his gaze to the (dumb, stupid, moronic) therapist. Screw her and her insensitive to fix everything. He’s fine on his own, god dammit. He’s been sent to the wellness cell hundreds of times because of her. Stupid, stupid.

“You haven’t found a partner, again?” The therapist coos, and Bill imagines he hears sarcasm. He makes a noncommittal grunt, rolling his eye. “Surprise, surprise. Can you go bother someone else? I’m soaking up the fake-ass sunlight, here.” Bill grumbles, crossing his arms as a sign that he’s closed-off and already done for today. The therapist grimaces, and turns to look around. Her eyes light up for a moment before they darken in thought. Bill acts like he isn’t watching, wishing he could crawl around in her head and poke and pry to see what she’s thinking. Eventually, after a long couple of moments, the therapist (he’s gonna keep calling her that, because he doesn’t give a shit about her name) speaks up kindly. “I think I know of a partner for you.” She smiles, and it makes him want to vomit. She turns and calls for- “Alex!”

A 5’6 human-looking anomaly turns, dressed in an orange boiler suit like the rest of them. She had redish fluffy hair tied back into a small ponytail, and had… an interesting look on the right side of her body.

The right side of her body was made of… something. It was spiky and kept shifting, white circles and white swirls danced inside the black substance as she moved. And her right eye was vertical, with a white pupil instead of a black one, like her left eye was. Her boiler suit tag was 271, which was surprising, since everyone else usually has four or five numbers. Bill vaguely watched as ‘Alex’ turned and walked towards the therapist, the teeth in her malicious grin too sharp to be human.

“Hmm? Whatcha need, toots?” Alex hummed, a curious tilt of her head to make her seem innocent. Bill knew better, though. As they chatted, Bill looked her up and down from his spot on the grass, sitting up on his elbows to get a better look. His single eye widened—she had four repressor bands? Only one was usually needed to repress someone’s power. He’s never seen four on one person before. Just how powerful was this chick? Could she help him escape? Could he manipulate her into becoming one of his henchmaniacs, when he gets out of here?

Suddenly, Alex was sitting next to him, and the therapist’s words floated into his head. “…Alex is one of our oldest friends here. I’m sure you two can get along just great!” She chirped happily, writing something down in a clipboard. Ugh. He hated those things. Always tracking his behavior like a hawk on meth and adderall. As she left, Alex sat with a seemingly permanent sinister grin next to him. A violent energy that auras from Alex that the repressors couldn’t repress.

“Hmm…” she hummed, again, as she picked up the book that they were reading today. Other groups were already beginning to finish the short book, and some looked over nervously at Alex. Nervous at Alex, not Bill. Bill wondered what she had done to gain such a reputation, and if he could do the same. He would love for other good-for-nothings to be scared of him.

“What a stupid book.” Alex’s voice rang through his channels. “Looks like the shit that humans would write.”

Bill perked up at this, his pupil darting to her in an instant. A sense of familiarity began to set in. “You know of humans? Nobody in this circus show knows what humans are.” He marveled. Alex looked down at him, and a wave of nausea came over him under her gaze. He had to control the urge not to flinch away. “Of course I do. I was there when humans first crawled out of hell.” Alex cackled, closing the book with a snap and setting it aside, crossing her legs. “I know of you, you’re quite the icon on earth. Impressive.” She smirked. Bill was taken aback by this. Did the sunlight get a bit warmer, or was that just him?

“Yeah, yeah. I’m cooler than you. Whatever.” Bill tried to brush it off, rolling his eye, even though he was secretly pleased. Alex clicked her tongue. She decided to change the subject. “Humans are… odd. They chant for peace, yet, when their opinions are spoken against, suddenly anger and violence is an answer.” Alex began, “They are fragile. They die easy. And I think…that’s what makes them special.” Alex concluded, opening up the book again and reading, letting Bill sit with that.

“I…” he stuttered lamely, his eye downturned in thought. What a load of rubbish. ‘That’s what makes them special’. Yeah. As if. There are billions of other species that are ‘special’, even more so than humans.

“Then how come you spent so much time there?” She suddenly says. Bill looks at her in utter shock. Did she just read my mind? “No. You’re muttering to yourself.” Alex snickers, and Bill feels embarrassment flush his face, but he quickly rubs it away to speak clearly, and a bit angrily. “I spent time there because they’re easy to manipulate! Their praise and worship-“

“You don’t need praise and worship to keep destroying galaxies. Humans are special. In their own… uh. Complicated and doomed way.” Alex shrugged, and kept reading the wellness book, her vertical eye watching him while her normal one read the page. Bill huffed indignantly. He hated she was somewhat right. “Fine.” He admitted. “They’re special, whatever, blah blah blah. What about it?”Bill grumbled like a toddler, looking pouty even if he didn’t have lips. Alex glanced at him with both eyes. She shrugged again. “I dunno. Just wanted to know your opinion on it. What else is there to talk about?” Alex raised a brow, her spiky side shifting as she moved. Bill’s brow turned into an angry V. He was about to insult her, but based on the observations that Bill has made, he doesn’t think she’d appreciate it much. He, torturously, decides to be nice. Nice. It’s a disgusting word. But, if he ever wants to make allies, he better suck it up eventually.

Bill clears his throat and looks up at Alex, his lone pupil searching her patient but sinister smile. He feels himself speak. “What’s up with your side? You look like you got covered in spiky motor oil with shapes in it.” He asks in a casual, monotone way, as if uninterested. In reality, he was very interested. It was the first time he’s ever seen someone look like that. Alex’s smile quirks up a bit, and she turned her head with a hum. “Oh, my whole body is made of the infection. I just make myself look half-humans so others can stomach looking at me.” “So you can transform?” He asked immediately after, his eye widening with possibilities. Alex shrugged. “Sure, I can. I can also copy voices. I wonder…” she trailed off, and looked at Bill in an odd way. He was suddenly hyper aware of how tight his prison suit was.

Alex opened her mouth again, and spoke, in his voice; “Testing, testing. Hey, is this thing workin’?” Alex tittered in his voice, speaking almost perfectly in his tone and manner. Bill was, in a lack of other words, stunned. This opened up a new realm of possibilities. Though, this also meant Alex could be a threat. If Alex said something, in his voice, that could warrant a therapist’s intervention, that could mean another couple hours in the ‘wellness cell’, which was a cell that bad patients went to when they got too ‘rowdy’. He’s very familiar with that damn cell, and he would rather tear his eye out than go back there for the thousandth time. Bill knew to stay on Alex’s good side, now.

“That’s a neat trick.” Bill said with slightly more energy than he once had. “Hey, hey. Can you mimic the therapist’s voice?” Bill jabbed a finger towards the therapist who was talking with other patients. Alex smirked and closed her book, setting it off to the side and shifting on her spot on the grass. “Of course I can. Piece of cake. I wonder how many patients I can fuck up today?” She mocked perfectly in the therapist’s voice, making Bill chuckle in amusement. Then, a patient nearby them was calling the therapist over and pointing towards him. Alex’s smile turned into a vicious scowl (huh, so she could frown!) and turned back to Bill. “Great. Well, I’m about to get a lecture.” She sighed as the therapist came up with a slight furrow to her brow. “Alex! What have I said about using your copy voice.” The therapist chastised gently, clearly not wanting to cause further argument.

Alex smiled and tilted her head. “Ah, my apologies, ma’am. Just having a bit of fun.” Alex brushed the therapist off easily, and said therapist watched them with an odd expression before turning to write something in her clipboard. Bill caught the barest glimpse of ‘Patient 271, Alex, used their copy-voice today. Requesting time in the wellness-‘ and he couldn’t catch anymore. Bill narrowed his eye. So they planned something for Alex, simply for… what, joking around? Kind of stupid, he personally thought. But then a new therapist, one he didn’t recognize (ooh, fresh meat) announced the end of the wellness activity, and everyone was being sent back to their cells. Alex smiled, her grin a bit kinder than usual. “Nice meeting you Bill. I’m gonna get locked back down in Cell Block X. Maybe sometime we can chat it up during dinner.” Alex patted his top hat playfully and giggled with Bill waved her off with a huff.

Bill was lost in thought again as he felt himself being herded like sheep by the therapists. Cell block X? That was the place for the worst of the worst inmates. It was a miracle she wasn’t kept down there permanently. Bill supposed her polite but charming behavior kept her out of trouble. He eye-grins to himself. Game sees game, he understands her tactic, and he respects it.