Why Humans Make Bad Pets!

Im a monster II

I had been watching the incoherent conversation like a hawk, but couldn't understand a thing from its participants' body language. Something the alleged police officer said threw Mama and Severus into a rage, which almost made my decision for me, but two of the pending-policemen detained the pair without harming either, which is what I'd expect police to do. They seemed rather unnecessarily rough, though. "Watch it." I growled to the two holding them down.

The officer then motioned towards Dink, which didn't make any sense. What would the officer want wi-

The third blue-giraffe began pulling on Dink's arm, dragging him towards the door. I didn't need any more proof that these giraffes weren't police, and if they were, then I joined the rebel cause instantly. I dive tackled the scum holding Dink, slamming him into the opposite wall. His rib cage exploded like a watermelon upon the impact, covering me in a purple sludge. The giraffes scream or curse was cut short as though with a guillotine.

Ztrkx's man suddenly disappeared in a blur of orange white and brown. It took a moment for Ztrkx's mind to process what had happened. By the time he looked to where his second in command lay with his chest pulverized, the small ugly creature had jump-flew through the air to land on top of his chief engineer, snapping his spine with a sickening crunch. As the ferocious beast tore his chief medical officer's throat out, Ztrkx drew his pulse pistol and fired.

I managed to take the other one down before anyone knew what was happening, and scored a lucky hit as I swung an outstretched arm which caught the third ex-police-candidate in the throat. I had been too slow, it seemed, because I turned around to find the fake officer pointing a gun at my face. There's a reason bartenders of rowdy pubs keep shotguns under the counter. Guns end the fight. Period. He pulled the trigger, and I saw a blinding flash of light as it struck me right between the eyes. I didn't die. It hurt, believe me it hurt, but it wasn't the kind of pain to incapacitate me. It was the kind of pain which was only going to piss me off. "My turn," I growled, advancing on the officer.

Ztrkx fired. It didn't die. His final thought before his skull collapsed was so it wasn't weak after all.

I bodily picked up the officer and flung him from the room, jumping after him so I landed above his head the moment he hit the ground. I hadn't realized how angry I was until I started bashing his face with my fists like a deranged gorilla on crystal meth. His head was a purple mush after only a few hits, but I continued to vent my anger on it, obliterating his skull until it was merely a purple stain. Someone slapped me hard on the shoulder. I looked up and was slapped again in the face. Three enemy giraffes stood 10 meters away, firing ray pistols. Those things were useless. Why did they even bother shooting them? They might as well use them as clubs.

I sprinted towards them, feeling as though I were wading through a sea of small angry children as WEAK. ASS. RAY. PULSES. dissipated harmlessly against my body. As I flung myself into them, mindlessly laying about with my legs and fists as I had oft done during many a senseless brawl, I reflected that I might need to start using cover on my approaches lest I end up with a nasty bruising, or even a bloody nose. I shouldn't have lost myself in thought, though, because when I checked back into reality I saw that I had been kicking the lifeless body of one of my opponents, needlessly and systematically breaking every bone in his body for the second time.

I started hunting, stalking through the ship, searching every cargo bay. The officer's crew hadn't been merciful to my new family, and the lifeless corpses of several of the ship’s crew members lay strewn around the ship. I found one of the gardeners missing an arm, and another without his head. The next few opponents I found suffered similar yet more profound injuries before I allowed them to expire, although there wasn't much worse I could do than take off the head, so I used a grammatical loophole to achieve the same result without instantly killing him.

I finished with the cargo bays, and came into a large room which housed the port and starboard airlocks. I could see how the criminals had gotten in. The port airlock hatch had been shredded by what could only be a large drill, which was mounted on a mechanical arm in the enemy’s ship. The drill had been retracted so that the enemy blue-giraffes could easily move between ships, which they were doing when I found them, carrying crates from our ship onto theirs. Seeing them formed the word which had already been growing in my mind: Pirates.

I slammed into the closest pirate-giraffe in the middle of his long back, breaking his spine and neck through whiplash. I picked up the small crate he had dropped and flung it at the next closest pirate, who had apparently skipped both leg and arm day, resulting in his expiration due to his inability to catch a storage crate. The other seven in the room had noticed me by now - they were so freaking slow - and had drawn their piddle pistols. Another five joined their brothers in the void when they tried to use their party poppers as weapons. The last two learned faster though. The sixth tried to use his gun as a club. I gave him kudos for that, but he was still slow and weak. I caught his wrist, disarmed him, turned his gun on him and pulled the trigger, which was oddly on the back of the handle rather than under the barrel.

Nothing happened. I guess these guns had security measures to keep someone from doing what I had just done. The security measures weren't all encompassing, however, since they didn't prevent me from hurling the gun into my victim’s face, where it stuck. I was pretty impressed with that, as the butt of a gun isn't strictly made to be used as a knife, but the seventh and final giraffe pirate had another surprise in store for me. As number six crumpled to the floor, number seven drew a sword from a sheath on his back. The double edge of the blade came alight with burning red heat the moment it left its scabbard. Their guns may have been ineffective, but I doubted my tender skin would appreciate being attacked by an alien lava sword. He swung at me, and I back-stepped. He swung again, and I repeated. He lunged at me, driving forward with a stab.

Even though he had a weapon that would have worked on me, I still had him out classed in the speed department. I sidestepped, grabbed his arm as it passed, then broke it over my knee. He howled, but didn't have long to contemplate his pain once his sword found its way through his chest and then his neck. I was so happy with my newly acquired sword that I didn't notice the drill powering up until it was almost too late. A solid beam of energy shot towards me, narrowly missing my head as I ducked, and struck the inside hatch of the starboard airlock of our ship, burned through it, then went through the outer hatch. An explosive c***k sounded from the ship, and both ships, being connected, began losing atmosphere. I felt myself flying back through the port airlock, but grabbed the edge that was the outside hatch of the port airlock and braced my legs against the edge of the inside hatch, wedging myself into security. My drill-happy friend, however, wasn't so fortunate. Oh, he grabbed the edge just like me, he just didn't have my grip strength, and his hands merely brushed the edge before he flew into my ship and out the other end.

Even with my enemy gone, I still had the small problem of a large hole leaking all the oxygen, which I had grown rather accustomed to, out into space, where it could hardly be appreciated. I didn't know it at the time, but I had already fixed the problem. The mangled door to my previous room flew into view, having been sucked into the docking bay from somewhere further inside the ship proper. It was too large to fit through the hole, and, bent over upon itself by my ministrations, was strong enough to create a temporary bulkhead.

Suddenly released from the gravity defying force of atmosphere under pressure, I eased myself down from the airlock frame before my arms gave out. I searched the pirate ship to see if there were any more, but it seemed as though the raiding party had included everyone on board, except for twinkle-toes the trigger happy jackhammer specialist. With the battle, to give it a kind name, over, a wave of weariness washed through me, though more from the adrenaline than any actual physical exertion. It was only now that I was able to survey my handiwork.

Oh my.