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In the dark, it was easy to hide. Something that he did entirely without thought, even. That’s why he much more enjoyed the challenge of terrifying others in the bright light of day. And it was very much the day cycle on the Peaceful Tyranny right then. Of course, doing such a thing as terrifying his fellow Justice Division members—day or night—was a special challenge. Not a one of them had anything holding them back from swatting him out of existence, after all.
Creeping along the edge of the hall that ran the length of the ship from bridge to recreation room, Vos peered into each open door he came across. A slow tilt of his helm to peek inside, then a low slink across the bottom where he would go unnoticed should anyone glance toward the hall. Really, the most difficult of them all to catch off guard was Kaon. If he wasn’t constantly aware himself, the raggedy turbofox that barely left his side was more than interested enough in their surroundings to catch him in the act.
His target this day, however, was not Kaon. It was someone much more fun.
Near crawling along the floor, slender limbs gangly and askew like some sort of insect, Vos made his way toward the end of the hall. Helex was off shift and quite normally spent those off joors stashed away in the rec room, playing some nonsense game, alone or with Tesarus as the situation allowed.
Clinging to the shadows, Vos eased upright and slinked along the wall as tight as he could until he came up on the open door. Dimming his optics, he peeped into the rec room.
Luck was with him—as expected, in all honesty—as Helex was deeply engaged with what appeared to be a massive battle sequence. He hunched forward, aft on the edge of the couch, muttering and cursing to himself as his on-screen avatar slashed and bashed through a horde of enemies. Most indicative of his intent and unbroken focus, though, was the way he ignored the large bowl of snacks and a half-drunk glass of bright green coolant sitting on the short-legged table in front of him.
Perfect.
“Ah, scrap! Get out of the way, slaghead!” Helex demanded suddenly. Vos paused and looked a little closer, optics narrowing as he studied the scene. It appeared the vast army Helex and an apparent comrade (or several comrades?) were fighting had been defeated. A new and giant figure dominated the screen, a handful of fighters arrayed around it as they threw themselves at the monster. “No, just get the frag outta the way, Brawl! You and everybody else! I got slag enough in my inventory to take this thing out three times over!”
Vos dove to the floor and started his insect crawl again toward the back of the couch. The room got warmer the closer he got. Helex was always good for keeping a mech from a chill.
“Yes, by myself!” Helex said with a hearty laugh.
First stop, curled low at the back of the couch, just behind where the big smelter mech sat. Next, his hands made a slow slide upward, those long and slender fingers wiggling like wiresnakes slithering along the ground until the tips touched against the top of the couch back. Tiny micrometer by tiny micrometer, he curled his fingers along the top, cautious of if Helex should shift position on him. It would ruin everything if the big mech were to fling himself back, after all. The possible crunch of his fingers would far outweigh the loss of his misdeed before it could be executed.
He’d never live down explaining it to Nickel.
Squatting directly behind where Helex sat so neatly hunched forward, deeply bent legs spread fully wide so as to be pressed tight against the back of the couch, Vos eased himself upward. The tips of his tall chevron crest peeked over first, followed shortly after by his still dimmed optics, then his mask as the rest of his helm lifted high enough. He tilted his helm slightly to the side, taking in the goings on that flickered across the vidscreen.
“No, no!” Helex exclaimed at his fellow players on the other end of his group comm. “He’s only got a little bit more life, I can take him!”
In perfect silence, he crept up onto the narrow ledge that made up the top of the couch back. He perched like a slinky voltaic cat, missing only the slow wave of a slim, scheming tail behind him.
“Doesn’t matter,” Helex continued, starting to sound quite pontificating. His thumbs flew over the buttons of his controller, sending his game avatar into a whirlwind of attacks against the gigantic enemy they fought. “I’ve got more than enough left to take a couple hits. You guys just stand back and let me take care of it.”
As he spoke, an ominous refrain came over the music that wove through the game, the sort of score that led to Very Bad Things in the games Helex played. The sky above Helex and his team flashed with lightning and grew dark with a storm from out of nowhere. Oh yes, a Very Bad Thing was incoming.
“Oh, slag,” Helex cursed, sitting up a bit straighter, but not far enough that it gave Vos away. “Anyone read any spoilers on this part? I haven’t had time. What’s about to happen?”
Vos narrowed his gaze, flicking his focus between the screen and the back of Helex’s helm. It didn’t matter what was about to happen, as big and intimidating as it was obviously supposed to be. If he timed it just right, Vos was about to claim his greatest score among his teammates yet.
“Oh, slag,” Helex cursed again, leaning back enough to make Vos lean back a little himself, nearly losing his balance. His fingers clutched hard as he shifted his weight forward again, desperately rearranging himself to avoid falling in that direction and toppling onto Helex. “Oh, fraggin’ slaggin’ Pit! Is that what I think it is?!”
Thankful for the game and its introduction of something that very much kept any noise he may have made out of Helex’s audials, Vos settled deeper into his crouch atop the back of the couch. He stretched out a leg to one side, leaning a touch of his weight into the other leg that was practically folded upon itself.
“Oh, slag slag slag!” Helex shouted, much louder than Tarn would be happy with—Vos did his best to stifle the snicker that wanted to escape him. Then a world shaking boom exploded from the surround speakers set up around the circumference of the room. “Oh, not good! What the frag is going on?!”
That sounded very intense, giving Vos a moment of pause. He glanced at the screen and rolled his optics. The creature making ready to rampage on Helex and his party wasn’t even comparable to a Phase-Sixer as far as Vos could see. However, Vos could not deny the tenseness of Helex’s shoulders, the small tremble in his smaller arms as the fingers tapped nervously along the cover over his smelter.
Yes, it was all a matter of timing….
Helex quickly flicked through menus, rearranging supplies while attempting to keep an optic on the monster. None of the party had yet triggered the actual start of the encounter, but it was obvious there was no backing out. “All right, guys. Count of three.”
Vos’ smirk translated through the viciously humored slit of his optics.
“One.”
Vos tightened his limbs, readying himself for the pounce.
“Two.”
He shifted to keep himself loose.
“Three!”
Vos flung himself at the back of Helex’s helm, wrapping around and rolling forward so that he dragged the big mech down until he was as close to doubled over as his frame would allow. He released as they reached the end of the arch, tossing himself into a nimble tumble as far away from Helex as he could manage, chortling the whole way.
“Holy Primus!” Helex howled, yanking himself back up and slamming a fist down on the table. His coolant tipped over and the bowl of snacks wobbled, spilling bits all over the place. Luckily, the table was strong enough to survive a mech like Helex—they’d learned over the course of time. A scowl twisted Helex’s face as he stumbled to his pedes, game forgotten. “You fragging little nightmare!”
Vos offered the big mech a quick bow, then skittered out of the rec room as fast as his own pedes could take him. Success was so very sweet.