kill
eat
spread
survive
Zat iz a razer grim mantra, no?
maybe
but
shut
up
kill
eat
spread
survive
I vunder iv ziz thing coming after uz vuld shut you up for five minutez. Zat vuld be lovely.
you
have
no
say
kill
eat
spread
survive
You know zey have been targeting uz for a vile now. Iv you vuld juzt let me talk for five minutez -
NO
KILL
EAT
SPREAD
SURVIVE
Zigh. Vine. I zuppoze if they catch you I von’t have to carry on vith ziz tedium any longer. You really have been a pain in my patootzkiez, you know ziz?
…
survive
Yah, yah, vat elze iz new.
The Non were on Antonia before she had a chance to wrap up her internal struggle.
They came from above, descending from a pair of buildings as Antonia stalked down the alley in-between. The first Non landed in front of her, a skinny, trembling creature that looked up at her hulking form with emerald fear. Antonia stared the Non down, lips slathered in foam, the blood of another, less-fortunate Non staining her claws. She raised her paw, preparing to take the Non’s head off. Then she would feed. She didn’t particularly like the taste of Non, but she would feed anyway.
The Non said something. Antonia didn’t understand the words. She seldom understood much of anything anymore, beyond the commands of her distant pack leader. He made perfect sense. He gave her orders, and she followed them, because everything he said was just a suggestion, even if it was a command, and she liked that. She respected that. It gave her freedom to do as she pleased, and what she pleased was generally within the purview of his orders. It was all a nice, perfect circle.
Vat are you babbling about? Juzt hit ze poor baztard and be done vith it.
survi -
The second Non landed behind Antonia, slipping so quietly to the ground that she caught only the barest hint of noise. Her ear twitched, but not enough, and she dove towards the first Non with a killing thirst that could only be quenched by the splash of viscera. The Non yelped in its weird, alien language, and it slid aside… leaving Antonia open to attack from behind.
Antonia was big. She was bigger than most opponents she faced, these days, and the only ones to outsize her - the titanic siege Non - were too slow to catch her. She was one of the most efficient killers on the battlefield. It was not, therefore, much of a surprise that the Non only barely managed to restrain her, its arms wrapped around her midsection, and even less of a surprise that he only kept her from moving forward by shocking her into temporary submission. It had been so long since something had actually crept up behind Antonia that -
VATCH YOUR FUCKING MOUTH
what
The Non’s arm whipped around Antonia’s muzzle.
Ach, too late. Vell, it vaz a nize life vile it lazted, I guezz.
The Non’s fingers extended grotesquely, wrapping around the upper half of Antonia’s jaws, but they were already open, her throat exposed to open air, and with a tiny flick the Non dropped something into her mouth.
survive?
Antonia crunched down, teeth severing the Non’s fingers. It screamed and ripped itself away, cradling its mangled hand as it leaped away from Antonia. The werewolf swept its arm to the side, trying to crush the Non, but it was already gone, and Antonia’s original target with it, leaping up the walls of the adjacent buildings to safety. Grunting, Antonia turned to pursue -
- but then the contents of the pill the Non had planted in her teeth spilled forward, broken by the gnashing of her fury, and a sickly goop poured down her throat. She spasmed, body going stock-still, as Kara flooded into her body, seizing control of her nervous system and wrapping parasitic tendrils around her vital organs. Antonia tried to howl, and was denied; tried to run, and was paralyzed; tried to vomit, and was kept under wraps.
For the third time in her life, in a much more violent fashion than ever before, Antonia transformed. Her muscles, already swollen by lycanthropy, bulged to grotesque heights. The hump on her back grew into a distended, lumpy mound, covered in yellowish warts and oozing pustules. Her mouth snapped open, exposing doubled rows of teeth growing rapidly in uneven intervals, and her tongue lashed the air with the strength of a whip. She fell to all fours yet was still almost eight feet tall, and she continued to grow, swelling into an absolute monstrosity.
The Non had finally located the alpha. And once they did, Fynn lost control of the werewolves forever.
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