Ein Riese, der Fliegen Wollte

Olympus Rising

He snarls as the cruel human leader presses something through the skin of his shoulder for the third time. The human seems frustrated that his flesh has decided to regenerate more quickly today, as it seems to be interfering with the human's experiment. It's not as though he's doing it on purpose, of course -- unlike the Female he hasn't mastered the ability to command his own regeneration - but even if he could communicate with the human, he wouldn't tell it that it's because the sun is so bright today.

It streams through the openings in the large warehouse that he has been chained in for what seems like forever, slicing through the air and cutting sharp shadows into the red brick walls. He sighs at the feeling of it on his face, warm and invigorating. His stomach has long since given up the idea that it will ever hold a meal again, and he can no longer feel it clenching and wailing as it steps aside to allow nourishment from the sun to take its place.

In the beginning - even before the two new ones came- the cruel one had fed him dead humans. They tasted wrong and different every time, and some made his stomach hurt. He soon realized that the human had been adding things to the flesh before feeding him. By the time he'd noticed what was happening, however, the human had seemed to have tired of that activity, and had gone on to different studies. Now, years later, he can't even remember what food tastes like. However, the undeniable scent of human all around him is a constant reminder of the feeling.

When the human removes whatever implement it had decided on this time from the meat of his shoulder, he expects it to be shoved back in like it had been earlier. Instead, he feels a soft twinge of pain at the back of his neck, and his whole body stiffens. His weak spot. His instincts scream at him to thrash in his binds and dislodge the danger, but he furiously quells it.

To move a single inch could be the death of him.

Every new twinge of pain sends a cold wave of dread slithering down his spine, and he grits his teeth in frustration.

The pain stops for a while, and he knows from past experience that the human is simply poking around inside of whatever opening it made, and pressing a small stick against a thin slat of wood. He doesn't ever expect to understand the motivations that drive the irksome little pest to do what it does.

Then the pain returns, and he can't help the tremors that wrack his body now as the human delves deeper and deeper into his nape. It hurts. Soon it becomes impossible to sit still, and he thrashes once, twice, ruining the careful precision that had been guiding the instrument. Through his frenzy, he feels the blade slice deep into his weak spot and carve sideways, gutting his nape open. He hears a shout from the human and he thinks the blade is pulled out, because he hears it clatter against the metal table.

Out of his periphery, he sees the two subordinate humans come running into view, but his vision is flickering with black spots, and his body jerks in its binds with cadaveric spasms as a strange feeling of numbness engulfs his senses.

The realization hits him hard. He's...dying. It was bound to happen sometime, but to be felled by a human wielding nothing but a knife and a wooden slat was so...disappointing.

He had always hoped he'd die by the sea. It was sentimental, but the beautiful, glimmering waves and crisp scent had always enraptured him. He guesses it just...wasn't meant to be.

His vision begins to turn, the lights above him becoming impossibly bright - almost otherworldly - while everything around them plummets into darkness, sounds begin to muffle and the scents around him dim. His eyes stretch wide despite how blinding the lights have become and he struggles to close them, just barely succeeding.