I truly missed how the black material tightened around my arms - dark as space where stars fade, deeper than marks I'd made on Atom Eve's legs when she fought me at first. It stuck to me like another layer, murmuring about vanishing each time I moved. Thragg's suit felt noble, heavy, yet mine? Mine shouted something else. Not a hint of red. Only black. Black so thick it ate every bit of glow.
Earth dangled beneath me, round and heavy, ready to drop. Strange how thin it seemed from this height. I could almost feel the rush of that first kill again - cracking ribs with my hands, hearing a neck squish under my heel. A whisper hummed inside my head, feeding ideas on how to stretch out the pain. Hit the schools first, it murmured. Kids shriek real nice when you slice 'em wide. My tongue ran across my teeth, picturing that.
Anissa leaving wasn't a shock - she shot off into space as soon as the door cracked, chasing whatever came next. Yet Nolan hesitated, just briefly, her alien gaze darting to the pale blue planet hanging underneath. I grabbed her neck lightly, not tight enough to hurt, yet firm enough to sense her heart kick faster under my hand.
"Earth's off limits," I said softly, noticing her eyes widen. "No reunions with that dear Mark of yours. None of those brave lines on 'making good choices.' Got it?" Her mouth opened - could've been defiance, could've been begging - but she shut it fast, giving one stiff nod instead. Good girl. Letting go, I watched her touch her throat, almost craving the squeeze I'd left behind. Right after she blasted off, I was certain - she wouldn't cross me. Nolan never stopped liking rules - even when they squeezed too tight. Remember how she turned on the Guardians of The Globe, wiped out countless lives, even though it was obvious it was a terrible move?
The ship felt empty inside, buzzing faintly without them there. Just Atom Eve stayed behind, moving quiet, bare feet on cold metal while fixing the wrap around our crying baby. That little one had her nose - tiny, tilted up - yet those tight fists screamed pure Viltrum strength. Her eyes skipped mine, no words coming. She just swayed with her, tight fists turning pale against the cloth. The butcher's tone crawled inside my head: Snap each finger. Watch whether she grips her after. Yet again, I tuned it out. Her hunched shape shielding the kid felt sort of broken - like a cracked moon dimly shining.
"You could go," I muttered, picking at my nails. The phrase felt odd - neither nice nor harsh. Just breath spent.
Atom Eve let out a laugh - sharp, like shattered glass muffled by soft cloth. Her eyes rose slow, real slow. Man, just look at them. Totally drained. Empty in the way you get after yelling till your throat's dust.
"Where would I even go Conquest?" Her tone stayed steady - oddly calm. She tilted her jaw toward the glass, where Earth turned slow and quiet. "Back to him? After you've carved me open and stuffed me full of this?" The infant screamed harder, little mouth wide, skin turning deep red from fury. Her finger brushed her face without thinking. "He'd puke if he saw me like this," she said low.
I might've said Mark Grayson would welcome her again, wrecked body and everything - he cared like a collapsing star, wild and reckless. A voice like chopped metal whispered fraud beside me.
Fact is, she made sense. I remembered Invincible's expression when I tore her away that last round, fingers shredding pavement as he reached. That sort of affection sours under horror. This time, spotting her used stomach, listening to the strange cry from what she holds - that ship had sailed a long time ago.
She didn't pull away as I moved in - just tipped her head up, holding eye contact. Her legs tightened slightly under me, not out of panic, yet expectation; that shift in breathing said more than words could.
Call it twisted loyalty or worse - if you want. Still, the moment my silhouette crossed her face, those eyes widened, gold swallowing green entirely. Pure Viltrumite fire burned there. Long past consent, far beyond instinct, her flesh answered a hunger she never chose. The Butcher's Voice hissed while I ran my finger over the pale marks around her wrists - leftovers from last night. Because of me, she'd take a life, it whispered. Test her. See if she follows through.
I walked off without speaking, the ship's door sealing up behind with a soft whoosh. Cold emptiness grabbed me fast, quiet and sharp, just how I liked it. Without air, everything was mute - no yells, no noise - and I loved that peace while gliding into darkness aimed at the moon's ghostly edge. A voice inside my head cursed wildly, urging me to smash junk into Earth's sky for fun, call it a warm-up act; I tuned it out. There'd be plenty of time for killing down the road. At this moment, though, I owed answers to a king.
Thragg's stronghold jutted out of the moon dirt, sharp and dark, its black towers flashing in the raw sun. At the gate, the sentries made no move to stop me - wise guys usually don't - kneeling on the dusty ground even before I touched down. The corridors reeked of body heat and rust, like fighters packed too tight for too long. Thragg was deep in the combat arena, chest slick with someone else's gore, squeezing a Ragnar's head till bone cracked beneath his legs. That snap echoed, damp and brittle, kind of like breaking green wood; then he glanced my way, eyes widening like something hungry catching wind.
"Conquest," he spoke - the word rolled out, rough, heavy, like stones shifting underground. Kicked the body away without looking, dragging his hand clean across leather, unhurried.
"Figured you'd left your kind behind… drowning in softness, playing at being human." The jab stayed there, sharp in the air, sour like blood-warm iron - but one corner of his mouth flickered. Just a flash. For Thragg, that counted as grinning.
I slumped on a cracked column, hands folded, eyes stuck on a thin stream of violet gore snaking near my shoes. "Sentimentality's wasted weight" I muttered, nodding at the hole where some copy of Ragnar whined, locked up tight. "Raising children though - that makes sense." The Killer's whisper giggled inside my head, pushing me to slice through Thragg's chest just to check if his core turned tender, squishy, alive. I didn't move - just studied how his chin twitched - one time, then again - while chewing what I'd tossed him.
Thragg shook blood off his hand - noise like rags ripping. He snarled, pointing fast at Earth's shimmer through the broken roof overhead. "They forget their purpose," he said. "Stuck in homes, crying over weak lovers dying quick as gnats." A sneer tugged his mouth, revealing sharp canines. "Pathetic." Down below, the Ragnar whined when Thragg pressed down hard on its back with one foot. No kill yet, just liking how its bones groaned beneath him.
I took a deep breath, tasting moon dirt and guts on my lips. The Butcher's voice crept through my mind, whispering He stinks of panic - not from dying soldiers, but from fading into nothing. Thragg missed my grin. He kept striding back and forth like an animal stuck in a pen, his shade twisting down the wet stone walls.
"They slack off in their training," he growled. "Eat human food. Hum city tunes." His hand locked tight till joints cracked. "Soon they'll stitch blankets."
The Ragnar groaned, breaking the silence while I climbed past its jerking tail, my shoes smearing black marks across the rock. "You're asking the wrong questions, my Regent," I said low, flicking a speck of gore off his sleeve. He stiffened - old battle habits running deep. "It's not why their changing" My palm stayed put, sensing fire under flesh like hardened space-stone. "But why they started killing in the first place."
Thragg's nose twitched, his heartbeat slamming under the rough stretch of neck skin. Inside my head, the Butcher's voice snickered, urging me to push both thumbs into that spot till something cracked. I didn't act - just curled and uncurled my hand. "Think, Thragg, Think" I told him, pointing at Earth glowing fat in the void. "When did we last meet a race with red blood? Ones whose kids sobbed words almost like ours? That grieved bodies rather than chew them?" The Ragnar let out another whine - too much like a hurt person - and Thragg shoved his heel deeper just because.
He breathed out slow, teeth tight, like hot rock pushing up from deep. Yet his eyes jumped to the world beneath us. That stare - I'd seen it before. Same one Nolan had watching Mark as she drifted above, her hands restless at her sides. The voice inside him whispered, almost sweet - already picturing it: warm skin touching his skin, their thin frames bending beneath him.
"You see change as rot," I said, dragging a hand through Ragnar's guts. The slick coils slipped through my grip, hot like raw steak pulled from bone. "Our ancestors didn't crush stars just to spill blood - they wiped them out because nothing there seemed fit to keep around." Thragg flinched, barely - a tiny catch in his breath - when I smeared gunk across his ribs, watchin' it crawl down the grooves of his gut. "But… Earth? Now that's different. Their women grin at us wearing pieces of who we used to be."
Thragg slapped me outta nowhere - the wind screamed. My skull jerked left, teeth rattling while moon grit kicked up behind my sliding heels. That butcher's voice screeched with joy, pushing me to hit harder - rip his guts out, snap his bones like twigs. I tasted iron from my busted mouth… then grinned. "Hit a sore spot, huh, boss?"
"You're talking rebellion," he growled, yet his hands shook - not 'cause he was holding back, but 'cause a deeper fear had taken root. The beast under his heel caught the slip, snapping forward with jagged bites - until Thragg slammed its head down, smashing it open with a squelching pop. Goo dripped through his grip like mushy berries. "Get out. Unless you wanna see exactly why my rank isn't ceremonial."
I spat blood on the Ragnar's dead body, laughing when it steamed in the moon chill. "Go fuck a human, Thragg," His eyes widened into dark holes. "Not some brothel whore—find one stupid enough to love you. Have her say darling and see if you still have the courage to split her in half." The voice howled, buzzing from the sight of his neck cords popping. "Or stay here decaying, acting like slaughter turns you on."
I walked off while he stood there, blood up to his knees, breathing hard like an animal backed into a corner. Moon dirt soaked up my steps fast, wiping out any trace even before the door sealed behind me. Inside, through thick glass, I saw his shape frozen, fists opening and closing like they itched to crush everything around. Gray chunks from Ragnar's head hung from his fingers, sliding down in wet, shiny strands. After ages of never blinking, Thragg finally seemed… unsure.
In the first version of events, nobody ever made Thragg change his mind. Fear mixed with power held the Viltrumites tight - locked into his brutal rules. Now, though, I'm standing here, blood trickling from my split lip after his punch. That moment? It started something. The Butcher's voice hummed in my ear, sharp and pleased, breathing down my neck like fire. Keep staring, it whispered. See how the decay begins.