Chapter Text
Your name is Ezarah Yuptoh, you are a fledgling adult cerulean blood captain, and you fucking hate humans.
You thought it would be easier than this, heck, its SUPPOSED to be easier than this. The humans are tiny! The largest humans only grow to be as large as a juvenile!...Its kinda adorable actually, with their silly colored hair, eyes and skin, so teeny weeny and soooft.
WAIT, FUCK.
Hating humans, getting back to hating humans! Humans that are ASSHOLES that you in no way, shape or form want to pet, EVEN A LITTLE BIT.
Anyways you and your colleagues got here on this stupid little blue planet with the express purpose to MURDER THE SHIT out of these tiny little fuckers. The intellegenocidalists had given you a basic summary of the natives, cute, tiny, colorful and docile, apparently they hadn't had a war in years, even though they were apparently well-stocked when it came to weapons (you wonder why they needed all those weapons with no wars, did they know you were coming?) the humans weren't supposed to be any problem.
“weren't supposed to be any problem” my big blue ass.
Apparently humans didn't quite like the whole “conquering thing” and decided to be douches who were going to defend this shithole of a planet to their last breath. Your personal crew culled hundreds during the first strike,collectively your species culled millions.
But, humans apparently didn't weed out the batshit crazy or the sick like your species did, and although your culling numbers as a group are admittedly quite impressive a lot that were killed were too sick to be moved out of their healing units, or so old that they asked you if you bought groceries, or so crazy that when you pried open their pillow-rooms they wriggled out of their white crazy jackets to give you a hug and call you ‘Barbara’. Did you know that humans just kept bodies whose brains have died, just AROUND?? Really its astonishing, you feel like you’re cheating, but big numbers look good to your superiors, so yeah you may have kicked out a few electrical sockets to pad out your culling numbers, big whoop.
Its the smart ones that are the problem. In your defense nobody told you that they would be smart. Cute with weird hair, but not smart. Some of the survivors of the initial attack call you “zombies” or “Demons”, apparently grey skin and horns mean something in human mythology.
You've been told that humanity has been harboring two main groups of crazy, the kind that throw magic water in your face while yelling “BEGONE DEMON FROM WHENCE YOU CAME” before trying to stab you, or if you’re having a really bad day, THROW SALT (who even are these people??really?? salt?? it gets in your eyes). The other kind scream something about the “zombie apocalypse” and go at you with a chainsaw, or they shoot at you. Yaaaaaaay.
The worst humans BY FAR though are the trappers. They don’t just try and kill you, no. THEY GOTTA BE A DICK ABOUT IT.
You were walking through an abandoned indoor marketplace, colloquially called a “Mall of America” by the natives, see the violet bloods really dig worthless human trinkets like statuettes or jewelry, and the humans only took the essentials when they fled underground, like clothes and food, so you can usually find a good number of things to pick up to sell.sell. Thats when “it” happened.
You were just walking along, innocently toting a bag of “Spongebob” death god figurines from the “gift-shop” at “nickelodeon universe” and licking cotton candy off your claws when a FREAKING BUCKET dropped down from where it had been sinisterly waiting for you on top of a door. You barely dodged in time as acid from THE BUCKET rained down. ACID. IN. A. BUCKET. Stupid murderous PERVERTED freaks!!!
It didn't stop there, you found very lewd depictions of our beloved empress painted on a wall inside the mall (they didn't even spell “Condescension” right, and you doubt her legs bend that way) you found UVA “tanning” lights from human salons rigged up to motion sensors (three of your crew were blinded that way!), stingbug nests in corpses and hidden inside confection machines, powerful magnets that messed with your horn-senses and made you all dizzy for hours afterwards, weights on pulleys that dropped right on your heads, broken glass, sticky glue traps.
You brought your crew into the center of the building, to the “Nickelodeon universe theme park” after a particularly bad “tanning” light trap. The “Theme park” was enough strange horror contraptions and garish colorful and smiling faces to make a Subjuggulator cream their pants, but as soldiers of the imperial fleet you would not falter! Not even as the human death god “Spongebob” stared you down. Stupid square yellow monstrosity.
Still dizzy from the magnets, you and your crew made your ways into a small wooden and stone corridor labeled “Log chute” (aha transport!) upon further discovery the stones and wood were, COMPLETELY FAKE! why on earth would humans paint things to look like stones and wood?
You had thought you had found salvation in floating transports aloft on a small indoor river, painted to look like logs, You climbed onto the mechanized transport hoping for respite. Boy were you wrong.
OH THE HORROR! ON THE “PAUL BUNYON LOG RIDE” you were terrorized out of your mind (Paul Bunyon- human subjuggulator?) You were subjected to the horrors of a large fake man chopping wood, this “Paul Bunyon” in all his simulated robotic horror and his horrendous blue moobeast! the booming laugh of the Bunyon will never leave your mind, still it haunts you.
It was then that the motorized transport raised higher and higher! seemed to plateau… AND THEN HIGHER STILL!! You were higher than a chitterlusus in a purple fruit tree, and then the log transport capsule stopped, tilted, you were faced with an impossibly steep drop----
and then you plummeted
- to what you had assumed at the time was your death, a quick “click” and a flash of light were to be your last memories. But instead of instant death your log capsule was flung into deep water, you were wetter than a sea-dwellers nook, only to find yourself...exactly where you started?
God damn sneaky-ass humans with their terrifying transport that doesn’t FUCKING GO ANYWHERE.
Sopping wet as you and your bewildered comrade exited the “Log Chute” of what you assume is torture and terror, you were both faced with yet another indignity. Your faces had been recorded in your moments of terror! what cruel and strange jokes humans play. Terrorizing you, recording it and then putting the proof of your terror and degradation on a lighted display (with heart or smiley face frames for only $5.00 extra) . A mechanical voice asked us if we wanted to preserve our “Precious memories” with a “keepsake photo”.No, I don’t think we will, creepy-ass robot human, I don’t think we fucking will.
Humans are fucking assholes.