Aaron's laughter finally broke off into a ragged cough. His throat burned, his ribs ached, and every breath came like he'd been drowning. He leaned back against the cave wall, his whole body shivering, sweat and blood sticking his shirt to his skin. His stomach felt hollow, like he had puked out everything inside him but still wasn't empty.
The mask on his face throbbed faintly. He could feel it — not on the surface, but inside his skull, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. His fingernails scratched at his cheeks but there was nothing to tear off. No seam. No edge. Just his own skin, bonded forever.
Emily made a sound on the ground, a wet little moan that wasn't even a word. She rolled weakly onto her stomach, trying to crawl, but her legs wouldn't hold. Cum and blood ran down the inside of her thighs, leaving streaks on the stone. She pushed once, twice, collapsed, her cheek pressed to the cold floor.
Kly'thel twitched beside her, still spasming, still alive. Her lips trembled, her throat worked, and something like words bubbled out: "Don't… don't… stop… no more…" Her voice was thin and shredded, like broken glass.
Aaron's eyes dragged across them, and for a second he looked almost human again — guilty, sick. He gagged and wiped his mouth, shoving the taste of bile off his lips. His shoulders shook as another sob worked out of him.
Then the whisper came.
Not a sound in the air. A sound in his skull.
breed… breed… breed…
Aaron clenched his teeth. "Shut up."
The mask pulsed harder, the voice swelling. new host… new womb… new holes…
He pressed his palms to his ears, as if that would block it out, but it only drilled deeper. His laughter from before twisted into a nervous chuckle again, shaky, broken.
He looked at Emily. Her legs still spread wide, ruined and leaking. Her hair matted where he'd wiped himself clean earlier. The Lustrix sent a flash through his mind, quick as lightning — the sight of her body arching again, breaking again, the sound of her throat raw with screams.
Aaron shook his head violently, slamming it against the wall. "No. No more." His voice cracked, but he couldn't make it convincing even to himself.
The mask purred. He could feel it smiling, though it had no mouth.
Something shifted in the cave.
Aaron realized it wasn't just inside his head. He looked toward the cave mouth. The air had a hum to it now, faint but sharp, like radio static crawling under the skin. His stomach dropped.
The Lustrix whispered again, softer this time, almost playful. signal… found…
Aaron staggered to his feet, wiping snot off his upper lip with the back of his hand. His legs were unsteady but he moved anyway, stumbling past the broken bodies on the floor. He didn't look at them again. Couldn't.
Outside the cave the forest was quiet, too quiet. The stars looked wrong somehow, as if they were vibrating in the sky. His chest tightened. He knew something was coming.
Miles above the treeline, far beyond what Aaron could see, a different ship caught the signal. Vilgax's vessel, massive and silent, shifting through space like a predator through dark water. His sensors caught the flare instantly: not the Lustrix, but the Omnitrix. A faint, systematic distress beacon coded in galactic standard — coordinates stamped clean, not corrupted, not like Aaron's parasite. Just one word attached to the ping.
HELP.
Vilgax leaned over the console, his tendrils curling. His eyes glowed, reflecting the data. The Omnitrix had spoken. Or rather, someone wearing it had.
His chest rumbled with something like amusement. At last. The weapon was crying for rescue. And he was close enough to answer.
Back on Earth, Aaron was still standing at the tree line, shaking. The mask purred louder now, vibrating against his bones. He whispered to himself, to no one, "I didn't do it… I didn't… it wasn't me…" But the mask hummed approval, not denial.
Behind him in the cave, Emily whimpered in her sleep. Kly'thel's body jerked once, violently, before going still again.
Aaron pressed his forehead to a tree trunk, laughing and crying at once, the sound muffled into the bark. He didn't know if he was still himself anymore. He didn't know if there was even a difference.
And above, cutting through the stars, Vilgax's ship burned toward Earth.