MonsterVille
Twenty Seven

“Who would believe there were mountaineers, Dew-lapp’d like bulls, whose throats had hanging at ’em, Wallets of flesh? Or that there were such men, Whose heads stood in their breasts?”

The blemmyes snorted at Mellie’s recitation of The Tempest. “I’ve often wondered if Shakespeare was a monster, he certainly had a taste of the dark, the twisted and the macabre,” she mused, “and he described your kind to a T.”

The monster snorted again, but refused to say anything. Its flesh mask was ripped across, but not completely broken, that or it had attempted to reconstitute itself after the berserkers had ambushed it. It had apparently put up quite the fight, but to no avail given it was presently chained to a set of thick bolts in the basement. Mellie wasn’t sure if they were part of Katie-Cam’s décor or whether they were original fixtures from the construction. It wouldn’t have surprised her either way—most homes in a monster town had somewhere to subdue the unruly family members when necessary. Analyn certainly had. Not that Mellie had been unruly—just embarrassing.

“Alright, I’ll stop waxing poetic. What do you want with my human?” Mellie demanded.

The blemmyes smiled a toothy grin with its masked face. Mellie smiled back. Then she swung the machete she was holding. It took a chunk clean off the top of the monster’s fake head and it roared in outrage—and pain—flesh masks were still attached to nerve endings through the body, so if you weren’t expecting it, weren’t flooded with all the sweet adrenalin of fight or flight? It hurt like a bitch to have it removed. The rest of the mask shredded and the mouth at its stomach snapped huge serrated teeth in her direction. The chains held steadfastly and he was yanked bank into place—much to the berserker’s amusement.

“Your human? What right do you have to own property bitch? You’re practically human yourself!”

Mellie touched her chest, “Ouch. That hurt, I mean really. No one has ever thought to say that before.”

It snarled.

“Now why do you want him?”

“Go screw yourself.”

“Hey Big Guy,” the big berserker looked over at her, “do you think it would be more effective to break his knee caps, or slice off his fingers?” The berserker pondered her question and Mellie tried not to look nauseous at the thought of doing any of those things. Cutting a flesh mask was one thing, it was basically a prank every monster had played on each in high school. But actually torturing someone?

“Rip out his eyes.” Mellie gave him a look and he smiled, “Blemmyes hunter. Take his eyes, his nose, his ears. Make him cripple and toss him back. Better than breaking bones, bones heal, senses? Lost forever.”

The blemmyes eyes twitched ever so slightly.

“So care to answer the question, or should we get started?”

It spat at her. A glob of blackish green spittle that splattered harmlessly on the floor. “You don’t have the ballsARGH!” Big Guy was holding a piece of the monster’s ear, blood oozing down his hand, down the side of the monster’s chest. Mellie wanted to vomit.

“That’s one.” She said, she sounded surprisingly calm. The blemmyes on the other hand started screaming profanities in its native tongue. She only understood a few words here and there but she got the jist. Life torment, pain unimaginable, eat her alive, etc etc. It was the fairly typical rhetoric of a pissed off monster.

Mellie took a breath. “Take out his eyes.”

Said eyes widened and before he could make a peep the Big Berserker plucked out one of the offending appendages. Although pluck implied a civil simple removal. The Berserker reached a clawed fist into the socket and squeezed, what he pulled out was more pulverised gunk than an eyeball. The Blemmyes screamed. Loudly, and helpfully.

“Danny! Danny wanted him!”

“River’s friend?” Mellie prompted.

“Yes! Yes!” Blood and thick chunks of vitreous humour were sliding down the blemmyes face.

“And Nicodemus?”

“Doesn’t give a flying shit about some punk human!” the blemmyes wailed, a rending, aching, soulful cry of loss for his eye.

“So Nicodemus wanted the mers, Danny wanted River. Match made in heaven.” Mellie mused. “And now? What happens now? Is Nicodemus going to come after you or the other blemmyes?”

He made a strange croaking sound Mellie realised was laughter.

“Big Guy?” Mellie prompted.

“Wait! Wait!” the blemmyes shouted, “No! No! He won’t be coming after us! He doesn’t give a crap about us, we serve him ’cause it keeps us fed, lets us hunt, but he doesn’t care! He doesn’t need us and now he’s got some mer flesh he’s gonna be happy as a clam!”

“Hmm, so then, why do I still need you?”

His remaining eye widened.

“Please?”

“Please what?” Mellie pushed.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begged in a very quiet voice, “please…”