Work Text:
Charmy bore his fangs. A growl rose from the back of his throat and slipped through the spaces of his teeth. He writhed within his containment bubble, pounding and kicking the glass to no avail.
Faces meshed around him as bodies hurried to their next destination far away from him. Swathes of colorful fur blurred and dulled. Each survivor gazed at him with trepidation burning in their pinprick pupils. They all feared the Metal Virus, and he was the physical representation of what they could have become if he absconded.
He was small, lithe. He could infect every single person sequestered inside the cramped corridors. The idea thrilled him, propelled by the disease controlling his every move.
Charmy resumed his clawing, groaning in a haggard, weary voice. He had spent hours trying to escape. Stinging through his prison had failed, so he returned to bashing it with all his strength, shaking it within the grasp of the crocodile who clutched it as tightly as he could.
He caught eyes with the chameleon glancing his way from their spot on the bench. He responded by shoving his face against the bubble, smearing his scowl and smudging his nose. Charmy snapped his jaw shut and smashed his fists again and again, the chameleon looking on with knit brows and pursed lips.
The crocodile shook the bubble, jostling Charmy onto his back. Charmy leered at him with half-lidded eyes, exhaustion plaguing him as he rapped his knuckles on the glass. A sigh fogged up the bubble’s exterior, the crocodile slowly shaking his head.
“You’re not going anywhere, kid. It’s for your own good,” he said, narrowing his eyes on the bee.
Charmy responded by curling his lip and headbutting the vessel. He smashed his helmet against it, his brain throbbing with each blow. The crocodile flinched, juggling the container, but the chameleon snatched it with both hands, steadying Charmy’s prison.
A jolt of pain shot through his head. Charmy slouched, slovenly massaging his forehead, rocking back and forth. Even with his condition, he still experienced bodily harm. But it didn’t deter him from defacing himself if it meant completing the mission ingrained in him once the ooze had settled beneath his skin.
“He’s tiring himself out,” the chameleon remarked, resting his hand on top of the bubble. “Perhaps he’ll fall asleep.”
“I don’t think he can sleep,” the crocodile replied. “Have you seen any of them take a nap? I haven’t. They can go day and night roaming the entire planet searching for their next victim.” He tilted his head, looking Charmy in the eyes. “The kid’s not gonna sleep so long as he’s like this.”
Charmy coughed out a spiteful cackle. He couldn’t fully understand what they were discussing, but the agitation etched into their expressions amused him. He kicked again, jarring the crocodile, but the chameleon grasped the bubble and took it for himself. Charmy locked eyes with him, raking his fingers down and spitting like a mad dog, the urge to infect them swelling in his chest.
All he needed to do was bide his time and then strike. He’d escape eventually and transform them into mindless beasts as well. Every single one of them would join his ranks as drones slathered in a liquid metal on a monochromatic planet.
And when it happened, freed from his prison and lurching through the double doors to infect the stragglers of Restoration HQ, Charmy’s last bit of humanity sobbed as the crocodile sacrificed himself to save them all from him.
I’m sorry, Vector, whispered the quiet voice in his subconscious, smothered for good as the crocodile turned.