The Exterminated

Chapter 13. We're going on a trip, in our favorite Rocketship: Nikoa

A/n, Sorry about the slow updates. Things have been kinda hectic and i forgot to post for a hot minute! i should be posting once a month now, maybe more idk we'll see

"What are you doing?" Nikoa asked, watching Jin.

Jin reached up and yanked on the heat box in the kitchen, trying to pull it out. "Doing stuff."

"Doing... what?" Nikoa tipped his head to the side, trying to see what he was doing.

Jin chuckled, an almost creepy grin creeping across his face. "You'll see."

"Jin," Nikoa said in a scolding tone, crossing his arms

Jin laughed, still messing with the microwave. "Don't you worry about it. No bombs are being built at the moment."

"That's very concerning, considering I never mentioned bombs."

"What are you doing?" Diran stormed into the kitchen, glaring at Jin. He looked disheveled and worn. He ran a hand over his hair as he entered, slicking it back, trying to look more composed. Sweat dripped down his neck, even though the air on the ship was cold.

"I believe the nicer question would be 'how are you doing?'" Jin sneered. With a final yank, he tore the heat box out. "You know," he told Nikoa, completely ignoring Diran, "humans have these too. They call them microwaves."

"Answer the question, four eyes." Diran stepped in front of him. "Why are you taking apart my ship?"

Jin pushed his circular glasses up. Nikoa remembered Cherry had begged him earlier to let her do something to his fingernails, and it looked like she'd gotten her way. His nails were painted black.

Jin towered over Diran, and leaned down a bit to look him eye to eye. "You're quite rude, you know that, Jarek? I would have thought mom and pop would have raised you better than that."

Diran clenched his fists, and a wave of heat rippled through the air. Jin didn't care, and shouldered past him before Diran could come up with a retort, despite the plasma threatening to rise from his skin.

Diran shot Nikoa a hard look, the temperature in the room going down a bit. Nikoa held his hands up, like he'd been caught stealing. "Don't look at me, you're the one who made him mad. Little piece of advice," he said, letting his hands down, "I think he's got a problem with people who are consistently rude."

"Don't we all," Diran grumbled. He leaned against the counter. His eyes seemed glazed over, like he was somewhere else in his mind.

"What's up with you?" Nikoa crossed his arms again and leaned against the counter next to him.

Diran snapped back to reality, glancing at him, his face clouded with a mix of emotions that Nikoa couldn't name. Diran reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the flash drive they'd found in the strange office in the tunnels.

"I need to watch it," he whispered. "I need to see what's on there, what they did to her. I spent all that effort trying to get this, and now I don't know if I can." He chuckled darkly. "It's funny, really."

"No, it's not," Nikoa said, his voice taking on a darker tone.

Diran looked at him, frowning. He could hear it in Nikoa's voice, hear he was holding something back. Then he shook his head. "Why am I even telling you this?" he muttered, more to himself than Nikoa. "Why do you even care?"

Nikoa knew exactly why he cared. Diran reminded him of someone. Himself. He had been taken down to a very dark place a long time ago, and he could see Diran skirting around the entrance to that same place.