# Chronicles of the Resistance - III

Author: Toastmeister
Tags: Alien, Human, Interspecies, M/F, Reptile, Romance, Sci-Fi, Size Difference, Slow burn, Snake, XCOM

I'm back at it again with another chapter and a fully updated outline. Hopefully, this one will continue to live up to expectations.  
  
Enjoy!

### **III: Order Orla Bialego**

##### City-23: Eagles Nest

##### Oct-18th, 2034, 21:12

###### The Doctor

Adrian couldn’t remember the last time that he hadn't been terrified for his life when called into a superior’s office. With Advent, matters were only made worse by the fact that his manager was over twice his size and had to physically _loom_ over a comically large desk to even address him. The price for failure was of course high, given his employer’s tendency to offer a personal (mandated) leave of absence, packaged alongside decompression (deconstruction) therapy at a local clinic, which followed the ‘most unfortunate occurrence’ in the workplace. Adrian would've needed an extra set of hands to count the number of times a co-worker simply disappeared following such events. At some point, those that remained just stopped asking questions and assumed that the person’s replacement would be in the lab within a week’s time.

Standing out was a death sentence unless you were cognitively gifted in a way that better served the Elders alive than dead—Adrian was one such case. In fact, he owed much of his initial success to his unusual case of eidetic memory, which proved crucial in his final Artificer role with the Advent Intraspecies Initiative. Once you reached the top, they did so love to use over-the-top, B-movie acronyms and titles. For the laymen, he'd been a…painter of sorts, except his canvas was a specified species template, his paintbrush genetic splicing/resequencing moduli, and his paint was uhm…genetic material of unspecified origin, or yellow-jello as he liked to call it. It was amazing stuff but tended to get all over the place if you weren’t careful with it.

In truth, the stock-standard military variants, which were established through conquest and careful selection, had existed long before Adrian first clocked in his timecard as a designated caretaker. However, the Elders found out early into the occupation of Earth that further developments within a given alien species would be required. Take the average muton for instance, postwar saw these once lumbering, aggressive giants cut down in size. While they still served in their original line-breaker role on occasion, the position was now better left to specialized members of their race: berserkers.

Subspecies were born in an effort to integrate the alien races to the Pale Blue Dot that they'd come to call home, which was a first for the Ethereals. After all, each individual climate came with its own unique set of challenges. Lastly, public perception related to the physical appearance of their new overlords mattered, a lot. Therefore, some prominent aftermarket…attachments were added to compliment the human body, which the Elders tended to put on some kind of pedestal. Nevertheless, the good old ‘make it more human but still able to kill them in at least seven different ways’ mantra never entirely went away.

Despite everything, Adrian’s various positions within Advent had afforded him certain luxuries that would've made any pauper green with envy. He had the best healthcare money could buy, access to performance upgrades (whatever that meant), and VIP access to any and all Advent-sponsored recreational facilities, including gyms, spas, and movie theaters. They'd even given him a high-rise penthouse in the heart of New Providence and the ability to procure a personal bodyguard once he reached his final position. He respectfully declined the latter, mostly due to the fact that they’d likely have stuck him with one of his more…serpentine creations.

Any other doctor would've loved to play God, but for Adrian, every night he would come home from work and stare down into the city below, alone. He'd watch the neon lights—a soul attached to each—pass endlessly throughout the dark expanse that had become his life. At times, he imagined that one of these was him, toiling through the stresses of the day as if they would've changed anything or would've brought even the smallest amount of fulfillment into his stagnant life. Advent had offered him salvation, yet he found none in return. To cap it all off, the man was now terrified of what he'd created and mourned that which he lost along the way.

As Adrian stared out into the dark expanse of City-23, atop the ninetieth floor of the major’s so-called Eagles Nest, in his mind’s eye he saw a lone light shine in the distance of some far-off building, a penthouse much like his own. Bathed in said light was a man, who looked out with the same green eyes as his mind toiled over a new stress, one that would either change his life forever or damn him should he be caught in the act by his employer. Eventually, the light died as a final decision was made and the room once again fell into complete darkness.

The man sighed as he peeled his eyes from outside and back into the study area that he and the officers had filed into after a rather harsh exchange of words occurred outside near the elevator. It appeared that the major had a weakness for brooding landscapes, and judging by the countless rows of occupied shelves, leather-bound books. Old world artifacts in the form of flintlock rifles and cavalry sabers were situated in meticulously polished display cases, much of them likely taken from a war museum buried somewhere within City-23’s walls. Hell, Rabczewska even had something called an _Utyos_—fully loaded it would seem—that served as some sort of crown jewel on an island behind them. All of these items seemed to contrast the modern telecommunications equipment that was shoved in every remaining nook and cranny of the penthouse. It was likely that this so-called Eagles Nest also served as some kind of listening post for Terminus.

With regards to the ordeal at the elevator, the major had relentlessly chewed Fahlström and Rooker out. He was actually still in the process of chewing them out. The loud muffles of droned-out conversation were felt, as the grating voice of the accuser bore down on the accused. Adrian knew that he ought to be mentally present for the exchange but had long since allowed his mind to wander towards his surroundings and pending existential thoughts.

How would his life have differed if he'd tried to make things work with an Advent bodyguard?

If he hadn’t accepted the promotional role, which ultimately led to his downward spiral?

If he wasn’t afraid of the very subspecies that he'd come to create?

Adrian’s eyes wandered back out into the moonlit night.

Had he made the right choice when he gave all of that up?

“Doctor Fairchild!” A stern voice rose out through the haze.

“Wha-what?” Adrian responded.

“Doctor Fairchild, I do hope that you’ve been paying attention. This has been a rather taxing night for all of us, and I won't make a habit of repeating myself.”

Adrian finally put two and two together, noting that the major had addressed him directly. As he turned back to face Rabczewska, he was quickly reacquainted with the other man’s face, well...the underside of his chin actually. Adrian was again reminded of his rather small stature, which was now pitted against the major’s rather large stature. While positively tiny when juxtaposed to an Ethereal, the major still managed to loom all the same.

After momentarily swinging his legs through the air to get his circulation flowing, the doctor adjusted his doe-like gaze to meet that of the major’s.

“I-I apologize, Major Rabczewska, but I’m afraid a momentary glance outside drew my thoughts elsewhere, back to New Providence and my time with Advent. You see, I was gifted a penthouse similar to this, and the memories within and related to Advent…were not the fondest,” Adrian answered truthfully. This earned him a grunt, followed by a brief nod.

“Advent offers kotlet-schabowy on the table but simultaneously harvests one’s organs under the table,” the major acknowledged; Adrian raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Rabczewska gave a raspy sigh. “Advent offers with one hand but takes with the other.”

Adrian slowly nodded in understanding. He noticed that the major’s subordinates were unusually quiet given their boisterous personalities, likely out of respect for the one who was currently addressing him.

“Does it upset you? Knowing that the decision you've made could very well have been the wrong one? That there's likely no going back, and that someone will surely perish for your sins? You had imperfect information, yet you chose to follow this path all the same?” Adrian’s stomach churned at the major’s keen observations.

“The decision that you’ve made mirrors those that have to be made _every_ single day out here on the frontier. This goes for those at the top and those...that they place into a position of power.” The major gave a sidelong glance to Fahlström and Rooker, who each sunk a fraction of a hair into their seats.

“I’m going to be honest with you, doctor, before our chief scientist's rather…untimely departure, she had passed along your scientific resume, which I’ve read through many times over. However, if it had been up to me, Terminus would've left you in New Providence. Whether you like it or not, you’ve made yourself an enemy of Advent, and they _will_ come looking for you, much in the same way that they came for the commander of XCOM all those years ago. Except in your case, they’ll likely just put a bullet in your brain and be done with it.”

The man sighed before continuing.

“But what’s done is done, Dr. Vahlen couldn’t keep her greedy hands off of your research, which to me is barbaric but sadly par for the course depending on whose company you lend yourself to within these walls.”

“Dr. Vahlen…is no longer among you?” Adrian stated, horrified at the revelation.

“Yes. It would seem that Vahlen got what she wanted before your arrival, fleeing to an arctic facility to monitor the progress of other test-tube monstrosities. Be thankful that she afforded you safe passage before leaving us to deal with the fallout,” the major growled as he turned to stare daggers at Rooker.

“Please sir, this was completely unlike her; she’s as docile as a lamb. I made sure that she was comfortable and well situated before departing to New Providence,” Rooker finally spoke up in an attempt to make a case for his viper.

“You say that, lieutenant, yet I now find myself offering support to a widow and a potential widower, who refuses to leave his wife's bedside. They want nothing more than to see that viper’s head on a pike and paraded through the streets for all to see, and frankly, I don’t blame them.”

“I’m already willing to offer whatever _reasonable_ services are necessary to aid those affected, but I just can’t believe that...she would've done something like this. The only other time that she's acted out in violence was—”

“When the creature carved your face like a ripe potato,” the major said in acknowledgment of the other man’s scars.

“Yes, but I rightfully deserved these.” Rooker ran a coarse hand over the left side of his face and felt the gnarled ridges that decorated its otherwise smooth contours. “Pardon my language, sir, but I was a brutish bastard back then; she was only defending herself from me.”

“Yes lieutenant, I’m keenly aware of what occurred. I just wish that you’d have snapped its neck in retaliation afterwards. Doing so would've saved us a lot of trouble in the long run,” the major chided without remorse.

“With all due respect, sir, how can you sit there and say something like that? Hasn’t Terminus gained from utilizing the excess medical enzymes and poisons from her body? You may not want to rightfully admit it, but she’s likely saved countless of lives over the years on this fact alone,” Rooker fired back.

“That may be so, lieutenant, but how many more mouths could we have fed instead? I get that its metabolism may be slowing, but it was also a lot smaller back then, and its growth seems to be showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. Just feeding and containing the creature has become a logistical nightmare that has strained Captain Fahlström’s supply of guards, which could always be used towards something a little more…constructive.”

“Aren’t we currently housing several berserkers on account of Hoffman’s research? How is _her_ situation any different than those feral creatures?”

“Because _lieutenant,_ I even find myself surprised in saying this, those berserkers haven’t killed anyone like _your_ viper has.” The major fired off his own volley and went straight for the throat. “_It’s_ an alien, Rooker, I need you to come to terms with that. Furthermore, it’s been seven long years and we’re still having this conversation. As far as I’m concerned, that viper will _never_ become socialized, because it was built with the sole purpose of war in mind. No matter how much Advent scientists like Dr. Fairchild attempt to cover it with a fresh coat of paint, a monster will remain true to its nature in the end.”

Rooker had deflated considerably by this point but opened his mouth as if to continue.

“Major Rabczewska, please,” Captain Fahlström interjected. “Perhaps we're jumping to conclusions a little too quickly here? While I also have a deep-seated distrust for the viper, we’ve hardly conducted an investigation into the matter.”

“An investigation into a set of attempted murders—one successful—that was caught directly on tape? I hardly think that one is necessary, captain,” the major stated, having since turned to address his other subordinate.

“You’re mistaken, major; the camera feeds were cut before the incident occurred. As for my guards, they...arrived sometime after it actually occurred and have made their own assumptions.”

“You willingly admit to faults in your own security system and hold on to the misguided pretense of proving such a wretched creature’s innocence?" The major allowed a deafening pause to subsist throughout the room. "Nevertheless, why was I not immediately informed that this had occurred?!”

“It was not brought to my attention until leaving the security ward with Dr. Fairchild and the lieutenant. This fact…escaped my attention until now,” the captain answered with blooming embarrassment.

The major put a hand against his forehead and let out a blast of hot air, so powerful that it threatened to carry his mustache along with it. “Don’t think that I’m finished weighing in on what occurred outside at the elevator. This kind of negligence is what gets people killed, captain; I expected better from you.”

Fahlström slumped even further at the final remark.

After he recollected himself, the major stood up and walked towards the great rectangular windows, which looked out into the city beneath them. One of his hands momentarily played with the refractionary field that prevented light from escaping out into the darkness.

“Maybe it would just be better at this point to throw all three of you into that viper pit and be done with it. As far as I’m concerned, both of you officers are on your second strike. If I was feeling more sanctimonious, we’d be roasting that viper’s carcass over a fire, but I’m not an unreasonable man. Don’t make me regret what I’m about to say. Am I understood?”

“Yes sir!” Came an immediate two-pronged response.

“Good. I make no promises that I can outright prevent the grieving families from attempting some form of retribution on the creature, but am willing to give my blessing towards an inquiry and additional resources into the matter. Captain, thoughts?”

“Thank you, major. I’ll launch an investigation beginning first thing in the morning. As of now, we’ve barricaded the entrance to the viper’s containment cell. Admittedly, we’ll require the lieutenant’s assistance in placating the viper. I’d like permission to do so immediately upon the conclusion of this meeting.”

“Make it so, captain. I expect regular updates into the matter—as _soon_ as they occur this time around. I’ll leave it up to you as far as the number of guards that you wish to commit to the investigation. Do not disappoint me again.”

“Yes sir!” Fahlström sounded off.

“As for you, lieutenant.” The major turned to address Rooker directly. “I’ve always disliked the empathy that you’ve displayed towards that creature, but I'll give the devil his due, you more or less know your way around it. Do what you do best, but so help me, if that thing so much as hisses at a human in a threatening manner and I catch word of it, we’ll be using it as live target practice with my darling babushka over there,” the major warned as he pointed directly at his heavy machine gun. Rabczewska then returned to his seat, which cried out in protest at his considerable bulk.

“Am I understood?!”

“Understood sir!” Rooker answered back.

“Good. That leaves that matter attended to for the time being. However, there are still a couple of items that require tidying up. Doctor Fairchild! Although it pains me to admit it, we now have a couple of vacancies within the species containment labs that need filling, and given your rather inquisitive mind on the subject of _Vipers._” The major once again let his distaste for the word be known. “I’m sure that you’ll be able to lend that brain of yours to the investigation.

“With Vahlen’s departure, Dr. Werner Hoffman has taken up the role as Chief Scientist of the containment labs. Henceforth, he’ll be your scientific point of contact. I had originally intended for you to meet him during our first meeting, but I’m afraid that he's currently occupied in the infirmary, attending to the only survivor.” 

Adrian was supposed to work with the viper? No...nononono. This was not why he'd come to Terminus. The promise of a new life and a new start gone in a puff of smoke. Perhaps there was a way that he could weasel his way out of this?

“S-surely you can’t be serious, sir. My medical services would be best used elsewhere.”

Frankly, Adrian had no idea where this mythical 'elsewhere' would be. His resume had gotten him here, but it was quickly morphing into a set of ball and chains. The man tried to think of something, but his brain simply failed to come up with a single valid excuse. In desperation, he turned to gauge the others' reactions. It seemed that Rooker wasn’t all too thrilled of the idea as well, given the way he clawed at his own chair, however, he neglected to say a single word. For a man that would never shut up, Rooker’s silence couldn’t have come at a worse possible time. As for the captain, she silently observed him, eyes wide as if the stench of his gutlessness finally made it downwind.

“Hmm. We are both in agreement on that account, doctor. However, I’ve made my decision. You _will_ do as you're told until further notice. Also, I expect you to be forthcoming with your own analysis of the matter. Now, let’s see that psionic chip of yours, Dr. Fairchild,” the major demanded as he reached out expectedly.

With a shaky hand, Adrian dredged into the depths of his pocket and brought forth the wooden container. He scooted it forward on the great mahogany surface, which served as a barrier between the commanding officer and his subordinates until it reached the major, who promptly opened it and silently appraised the chip.

“So, this is what it takes for an Advent scientist to buy safe passage into Terminus these days? Something so instrumental to the downfall of humanity and the continuation of mankind's suffering. I should just break it in two right now and toss it out one of those windows,” Rabczewska stated as he immediately closed the lid and shoved it forcefully back in Adrian’s direction as if looking at the chip for a second longer would’ve turned him into stone.

“That's the problem with today’s younger generations, they forget _why_ we originally fought and what was sacrificed in order to make it happen. Advent’s comforts have bred weakness. They’re focused more on self-service and personal greed than setting aside petty squabbles and rightfully taking back what is theirs by birthright. I won’t mince words; I _hate_ the aliens and what they’ve done to Mother Earth, and it brings a smile to my face whenever one succumbs to the sweet kiss of death. However, these are but the incessant ramblings of an old war vet, who’s long past his expiration date,” he recounted wearily. He then turned his attention back to Adrian.

“Remember this, Dr. Fairchild, we all pay for our sins eventually, whether it be in this world or the next. Now. For the time being, Lieutenant Rooker will be your warden. You will shadow him within the containment facilities for at least the first day, while Captain Fahlström and I continue to contain the situation from the outside. It’s best that the lieutenant be kept out of the public eye—he’ll need another _human_ to keep him company.”

The more the major spoke, the worse Adrian felt.

“P-pardon me, major, but you stated that we’d be situated _within_ the containment facilities?” he fished for a corrected response.

“I spoke correctly; you’ll be quartering with Rooker _and_ the serpent. The lieutenant has a spare bed within an adjacent observation room. I trust that this won’t be an issue for someone who's worked closely with vipers before?” the major questioned.

It was the easiest yes or no question ever pitched to him. Of course, it would be an issue. He just had to say yes. Yes. Y-E-S. However, once again, like a deer caught in headlights, the man panicked and his mouth betrayed him through a single utterance:

“NoOH?”

Of course, his voice ended in an up-ticked squeak as his mind tried to salvage the situation, which came in far too late and only made him look more like a doe-eyed idiot. In a feat of sheer brilliance, the only person in the room with a doctorate failed to defend his thesis and instead gave them his best impression of a doormat. In truth, the man was too stunned by his initial response to even attempt to save face.

The major raised one of his bushy white eyebrows but offered no easy outs to Adrian’s muddled situation. Instead, he nodded his great head before turning to address the other officers.

“Captain Fahlström, please direct Lieutenant Rooker and Doctor Fairchild to the containment labs in a manner that you’re most accustomed to.” Kat couldn’t help but smirk at the suggestion. “I expect an immediate notification once they’re situated at their stations, or should the viper outright prevent them from being able to—”

Rooker made an attempt to speak as if to reassure the major that his viper would not be a problem. However, he was quickly silenced by a raised hand and a harsh glare.

“As for your investigation, we can discuss more come the morning. Now, all of you—leave me so that I may begin my much-needed rest.”

Both officers nodded, but Adrian once again found his eyes wandering back towards that lone light in the distance. As he gripped his wooden box through trembled hands, he could've sworn that it now burnt much brighter than it had before—almost tangibly so as it danced in the far-off building. Perhaps his mind was once again playing tricks on him? In his current state, all he knew was that it was currently in a far darker state than when he had first arrived. As he turned back to the outside skyline, he noticed that the light had once again disappeared in favor of a moonlit sky.

###### The Sweeper

Sergeant Cutter begrudgingly climbed the final set of stairs in the fifty-story building. The good captain had promoted him just a week prior, but in her infinite wisdom, saw it fit for him to train some of the new-blood before he could officially hang his sweeping hat up for good. It was going to be nice to finally transfer to the Switchyard, which while far from cozy, was a hell of a lot better than sweeping. Nevertheless, it was just his damn luck that during his final patrol, they had actually detected something. Probably just the stupid Lost anyways, as they had the tendency to become more active at night.

A large pod of them had been spotted in the area days prior, but the fuckers tended to wander around aimlessly, so it was likely anyone’s guess at this point. Luckily, most of the floors of this residential building had been barricaded off thanks to urban decay—made his and the private’s job easier anyways.

Speaking of which…

“What’s the hold-up, private? I sent you sweeping the upper floors fifteen minutes ago and you still haven’t said a peep. If you’ve gotten that fat head of yours stuck in the rafters again, I’ll shove my boot so far up your ass that you’ll be speaking French and screaming to high heaven!”

Cutter had been stuck with the eighteen-year-old for about three days now. Good kid all things considered but green as grass and twice as ditzy. Again, Cutter heard nothing but the sound of his own footsteps rebound off of the worn wooden floors. Sleepy Simons was probably catching forty winks. Idiot suffered from some kind of sleep syndrome. Insomnia? No, it was the other one. Didn’t matter, Simons was a sleeper and a bad one at that.

As he turned towards the entrance of the penthouse, the man noticed that the door had been forcefully pried open. Good, that meant the private had made it to this floor. However, as he drew closer, he noticed that the door had a rather noticeable indent in it, concave and about the same size as a...

“Damn it, private, where the hell are you?!” His voice was still raspy after having climbed all of those steps.

After drawing his pump-action shotgun and reattaching his flashlight to its barrel, the sergeant checked his corners before he made his way into the dimly lit, two-story apartment. Cardboard boxes, pots and pans, and an assortment of other items were scattered across the tile floors and center island. He stopped immediately in his tracks as his senses caught up with him, his mind registered them in the form of a question: why the hell did something smell like it was burning?

He hugged the far corner of the island and made his way towards the living room, which was guarded by a load-bearing wall and set of large connecting archways. After he shuffled towards the one closest to him, the sergeant leaned out into the living space, where he immediately spotted a humanoid figure, who rested on both of their knees and faced away from him, out into the dead city before them. Cutter hazard a guess that this was his lost private, whose flashlight sat next to the boy and pointed in the same direction—burned out by the looks of it.   

“Alright Simons, rise and shine. No more games. You can sleep after we’ve finished our rounds.”

Again, no response.

Dammit, the private was going to be the death of him. After he looked behind him momentarily, Cutter proceeded forward into the living area, leery of its dual support beams—at least three feet in diameter by the looks of them. Luckily, there weren’t many places to hide in this modern apartment. He washed the upper rafters and second-story sleeping area in his light to further prove his point. Satisfied, he moved closer in order to attend to Simons. However, Cutter was stopped halfway as his nose wrinkled; there was that burning smell again, only stronger this time...

“Last chance, Simons, stand up or I’m going to clean your clock.”

Fuck. Cutter prodded forward slowly, his boots squelched across the white carpeting. He looked down and found water instead of blood—that was a good sign. However, the stench only grew as he closed in on the private’s body. Finally, and after he released a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, the sergeant leaned over the private’s closest shoulder to inspect his unresponsive body.

What he saw horrified him.

Simons was pale as a ghost and the entire left half of his central body cavity had collapsed, in its wake molten rivers of burnt flesh and crystalized body fluids. He followed the rivers to their source and found a series of puncture wounds. The other man’s blood was pitch black, as if—the private’s flashlight suddenly came back to life, startling the sergeant.

At the same moment, something incredibly heavy landed behind Cutter with a noticeable thud. As a renewed dose of adrenaline surged through his veins, the sergeant spun his barrel around to meet the noise, only to intercept it too late as a clawed hand as wide as his torso clamped down onto his body and lifted him a good number of feet off the ground.

His shotgun was torn away from him with herculean strength, the receiver crushed as though it were tissue paper with the tendons in his hand faired far worse. Too focused on the searing pain, he ignored the thick, black coils as they wrapped around his legs, worked their way up his entire torso, and eventually kept him suspended in place. The six-foot man was positively tiny against the behemoth, and he opened his mouth in an attempt to let loose a scream but was prevented from doing so by a wall of scales that moved in to block his airway.

“Shhhh. We wouldn’t want to wake the private, or the Lost below, Sergeant Cutter...” The creature spoke with the front of its mouth, yet its English dialect was impeccable. Furthermore, its pitch seemed at odds with the creature's otherworldly physique.

At that point, the flashlight that had been unceremoniously dislodged from the shotgun and thrown to the ground had stopped spinning and now bathed the creature in its light. As Cutter had expected, a damn viper, and an impossibly large one at that. The size and thickness of its coils reminded him of a boa constrictor, the electric blue, stripped colorations suggested some form of coral snake, the oversized, segmented hood a cobra, and the twin peaks of overstrained armor padding that he had to crane his neck to avoid suggested woman. What kind of madman would've consciously spliced all of those things together?

“What the hell kind of viper are you?” Cutter managed to squeak out as the creature moved its mammoth hand away from his mouth, his curiosity having got the better of him.

“Hmm…a hybrid of sorts,” the creature hissed as it flexed a set of draconic frills attached to a wedge-shaped jawline. It also raised a muscular arm, which bore razor-like extensions. “Gifts bestowed to me by the Elders,” it answered vehemently.

“What did you do to Private Simons? The poor boy couldn’t hurt a fly...”

“Was that meant to be rhetorical? Human speech can be rather confusing at times. Regardless, I gave the other human a choice, and he chose the lesser of two evils.”

The viper leaned itself against another set of thick coils, careful to avoid one of its large dorsal fins as it tried to find a comfortable position from which to continue their conversation. As a consequence, Cutter was lowered somewhat, which only added to the size disparity. He felt as though he was sitting in an oversize inflatable pool, devised entirety of ebony scales—his lifeguard was perched on high, silently determining whether or not to simply let him drown.       

“Doctor Adrian Fairchild,” the viper stated, seemingly satisfied with their respected positions.

“I’m sorry?”

“Doctor Adrian Fairchild. My target, where is he?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking—Aaah!” The coils around him tightened further and forced all of the air out of his lungs in an instant.

“No games, human! I tried to take what I required from the private, but his mind was clouded before he expired.”

“That is...” Cutter had already lost all feeling in his legs, “...because he was just a kid. Was actually still in the process of teaching him how to properly tie his shoelaces and not to sleep on the job,” he replied ruefully.

“The human should've never entered the Contagion Zone. Advent would've found him eventually,” the serpent replied, seemingly unfazed at what it had just done.

“Just another day at the office, huh? No wonder you vipers are such a pain in the as—Fuck!” the man cried out as his ribs bowed inwards and his pain receptors flared.

“Enough! You test my patience with your empty words!” The creature’s measured speech slipped as it tugged at both sides of its thorny hood in frustration. “Where is Doctor Fairchild!”

A black hand reached down and engulfed Cutter’s head as the incandescent blue stripes of the viper shimmered in the white light. The man shrieked as his body lurched and squirmed beneath an unknown force within him that now threatened to tear him apart. However, the pain dispersed almost as quickly as it came as the viper pulled its hand away, granting the human some semblance of control over his body.

“I’ll give you one last chance, Cutter. Answer my questions, or I'll take them by force.” Its azure eyes took on a purplish hue. “Now, the doctor.”

“I...might've heard rumblings...about an Advent scientist being extracted from out East. I tend...to keep my head down...unless I’m told otherwise. But this one was special...came down from the top brass. Evidently has a history of working with…your kind,” Cutter wheezed through shaky breaths.

“Yes! This is the one that the Elders seek, but extracted to where? Tell me!” The great hand once again cupped his chin and forced him to stare directly into a pair of reptilian eyes.

“I-I can’t…please,” the human pleaded.

“You can and will do so regardless.” The purplish hue then returned in full force.

“Aaaaaah!” Cutter threw his head back and let out a blood-curdling scream as his body twisted and contorted within the viper’s coils, warm blood began to seep out of his nose and ears. His unbearable screams continued unabated until his body finally gave out, mouth hung open in an apparent resting place. Then, as if nothing more than a mindless thrall, a single word bled through the silence:

“Terminus…”

The purple hue died and a smile formed on the viper’s face. With its dark deed completed, wicked fangs extended and the viper’s massive head moved in to whisper a parting eulogy.

“The Elders thank you for your service, sergeant. Time to bring you and the private home.”

After it clamped down on Cutter’s neck and enjoyed sweet release, the creature’s black tendrils encased Simons' body as well. The two men were forced together in order to fasten and activate a pair of sonic emitters on their bodies. Eventually satisfied with the result, the viper allowed the end of its massive tail to effortlessly crash through several of the penthouse windows, exposing it to the crisp, outside air.

“I warned you not to scream, Cutter. You can’t un-ring the dinner bell. The Lost will surely have their fill tonight.”

With that, the great coils moved out into the night and disposed of their contents, which plummeted fifty stories towards the streets below.

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/dmBPaqz1
Part of the series Chronicles of the Resistance
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