CALAMITY (#1) - The Lamb

Chapter Six - Mystique

Maxwell didn't see himself as a very smart man. He was slow, he got confused easily, and he always had trouble trying to speak to people, even with his wife. He usually just stayed quiet and let her do the talking. She was the leader of Mystique, and he was her right-hand man.

He never considered himself as her equal. Maybe that was just because he didn't like himself very much. He just saw something in Casey that he saw in no one else. Something he didn't see in himself. So, when he saw Casey losing control again, he did the first thing he could think of. He broke into his own emergency ration and gave it to her.

He was willing to give up everything if it meant Casey could go on. Casey always told him to worry about himself, but that always confused him. A lot of things confused him. Of course, there was the language barrier, and what happened back then...

His head hurt. He was thinking too much.

What he lacked in intelligence, he made up for in raw power. His sense of camaraderie was the strongest of all of Mystique, too. While Casey had gotten numb to loss, every injury from his comrades was an injury of his own.

He blinked. Too much thinking, he scolded himself. He looked down at Casey, and at the little girl in the bed beside her.

They looked peaceful. It reminded him of simpler times.

His antenna flicked. He smelled the air. It was strange. A scent he had never really smelled before. He closed his eyes and followed the smell, stopping over the kid. Huh. She didn't smell entirely normal. The scent was sweet. It was pleasant, making his appetite rise slightly.

He shook his head. They tampered with her scent, he theorized. He heard of that happening before. It made demons hungrier, meaning meat could sell for more. Yeah, that was probably it.

He pushed the kid's hair out of her face. He frowned subtly at the burn stretching across half of her face. It was clearly quite old, but the scar it left wouldn't go away any time soon. He wondered where she got it. He wondered why the kid seemed so—

He heard stirring from Casey's bed and glanced over. She was awake now. He went over to her, pushing away the feeling of unease that swept over him after imagining what the kid's past could have been like. Casey opened her eyes, groaning softly.

"How... Ugh... How long was I out?"

"Overnight..."

"Ah, jeez... You were here all night, weren't you?"

"...No..."

Casey raised her eyebrow.

"...Yes."

Casey sat up carefully, wrapping her arms around Maxwell. "Well, I appreciate the care, love. You should really get some sleep, I promise I'll be fine," Casey reassured him. Maxwell pouted, gently clinging to her arm. "But..." he started. Casey gave him a little smile, kissing him on the cheek. "Do I ever break promises?"

"No... No you don't..."

Maxwell turned to the door, worriedly muttering something in his native language. Casey smiled at him. "I'm not in danger. Just head to bed, okay?"

Maxwell nodded sadly, exiting the room.

Casey looked over at Mia. No injuries, she confirmed to herself. If Max hadn't done something...

You would've swallowed her whole.

Stop that. Now isn't the time for such awful thoughts.

She'd be a pile of bones.

No. She has enough control.

You're in denial. You nearly killed her.

Casey held her head in her hands.

She would've tasted delicious to you.

Casey flopped back in bed. She looked back at Mia. She was peacefully sleeping.

She wondered what she was dreaming about.

. . .

Mia was sitting in a chair, in the middle of a dark room. It was the same dream as always, she supposed. Footsteps approached. A man shrouded in black stood before her, two large branched horns making up a rather ominous silhouette.

Mia liked calling him the Whisperer, for obvious reasons.

"Mia.... Mia...." The Whisperer spoke softly. That was all he ever said, usually. She wondered what normal dreams were like.

"Mia... Mia..."

Mia looked up at the Whisperer. She wondered how long this dream would go on. She decided to open her mouth to speak.

"Yo."

Huh. Usually her mouth is sewn shut, or her vocal chords are in a bloody heap on the floor. This was an improvement.

"Mia... Mia..."

"Yeah? What's up?" Mia half-jokingly responded. She didn't expect an answer.

"Where are you...? Mia..."

Well, that's progress.

"Well... I'm in a chair. Right in front of you."

"Where are you...?"

Mia rolled her eyes. She struggled to think of where she was in real life. "...Mystique, I think it was called?"

The figure shifted. It usually stood completely still.

"Good... you are... safe... yes...?"

Was it concerned for her...?

"I-Uh... yeah? They got me out of the slaughterhouse—"

"Stay... safe... stay... alert... you are... more powerful... than you know..."

What?

"You must... use it..."

"Use what?"

...

"What do you mean?"

...

"Hello...?"

...

"..."

Mia was surrounded by silence. She wanted him to keep talking. She didn't care about answers.

She just didn't want to be alone.