text: [Themes: sci-fi]
  
  The panic hides your sound as you climb atop a stall. In the distance, you spot the gates crushing the crowd like maggots on the hook for slaughter. Around a hundred remain, shocked by the carnage ahead and absolutely terrified of the ghost behind.
  
  "Keep calm!" the Captain bellows. His face stands grim. He needs to go if you want to survive. "Second squadron, move the crowd towards the barracks! First squadron, on me!"
  
  Roughly three dozen knights form a circle around their commander. You notice they're all wearing blue padded vests with white metal laced on top. Their helmets are made from the same material, forming a pointy edge with two horns on the side. You observe their movements, rigid and drilled. That's enough to give you a plan.
  
  The crowd has barely settled down and several riots have broken out. No one notices the misplaced straw as you jump from your spot. Approaching the circle, you crawl beneath a knight sweeping his sword in wide circles, mentally forming a safe space ahead of him. When you're close, you swing your club up against the soft unprotected flesh on the inner thigh. Feeling the feedback of another snapped bone, you jump up, twist his neck clean off and push his skull horn-first into the throat of another. Pulling it out just as fast, you throw it between a third and fourth knight as you dash into the opening.
  
  The captain stares at where you've been moments before. You have your club raised high in anticipation of a finishing blow when an ear-shattering voice enters from above.
  
  > keep extremely still.
  In a moment like this, the best thing you can do is freeze. Club still mid-swing, you hold completely still, barely even breathing. The captain jumps back, spooked by the cold air. His sixth sense is probably screaming in terror, or so some have told you before in their last moments.
  
  A few moments pass as you think your next moves over. Clearly, if the voice wanted you dead, you wouldn't be breathing. So you move over the broken forms of the dead soldiers, mangled and bruised corpses of trampled merchants, and finally arrive at the bloodied appendages that's all what's left of those hit by the gates.
  
  "I here."
  
  Your voice carries with it the macabre, having only been used just before a kill. Some knights are already moving up with deadly intent.
  
  You order the Beast in the suit to become dormant once again. Slowly the cold recedes, face first, until your very skin becomes visible.
  
  The voice and your appearance stunned everyone present. The quiet of the moment stands in stark contrast to the riots happening only moments before.
  
  The first one to regain his wits is the captain. Ordering two platoons on both of your sides, he holds out his hand. "Hand me your weapon, ghost." The tone of respect is barely winning against a deep sense of fear and hatred.
  
  > Following your path, you comply.
  The captain doesn't speak a word on the voyage. The same can't be said of the crowd that follows your every move. Once they had started jeering, only to be shut up by a single glance reminding them you're still in your element—a predator among the sheep. The effort had earned you a slap on the back of your head by the knights, comfortable now you're being held by four of them.
  
  You have only seen this place from the shadows, the little corners and alleys that so resembled your home. Now that you're dragged into the open, led through the kingdom's main streets, you can only resent the fact you had gone along. The suit has considerable more trouble hiding in plain sight.
  
  Then you finally arrive at a staircase leading up to a vertical room.
  
  "In here," the captain orders. "I trust you'll keep your word."
  "Never say."
  
  Before he can reply, you move into the room. The Beast was clearly waiting, shooting up at breathtaking speed. You could look outside, seeing the knights be reduced to the size of thumbs within only a few moments. Every house became nothing more than a hand, like a black nest of spiders that had blue legs. The mental image made you chuckle.
  
  Only a few moments later the Beast halted, chirping your arrival at the level between levels.
  
  "This used to be the bridge, you know." A voice arrived from the speakers. It was the same that had ordered you here.
  "Bridge between what?"
  "Not- ah, a bridge between men and the ship itself," it replied after a few moments. "And now the ship once again needs men to fight against other men."
  "Battles sound?"
  "Yes, we've fought multiple skirmishes and lost the upper plateaus. They've breached the ship's inner sanctum before I could jump away."
  "They come?"
  "Eventually, they'll come for all of us. I know you, ghost. The lower levels haven't been kind to you. I'm saddened to see you don't know what you were before, what you have to become." The voice became increasingly distorted.
  "I just am!"
  "Very well, at least I know you can understand. The invaders have set up camp on the second level, I can feel them crawling between the vegetation. If we won't dislodge them in a month this whole ship will starve-"
  "Bones not good food."
  "Indeed, they've fended off all our attacks and even exploited our ensuing weakness to drive us further back. Listen, ghost, I know you and accept you as part of the ship. But-"
  "I remember. I go."
  
  You follow the lights into another room, one that would lead you towards the enemy.
  
  "This won't alert them. I made sure of that. Goodbye, Gregor."
  A single tear falls from your cheek.
  
  > Goodbye Bella.
  You arrive in a small crevice between two tall trees, the dark shade hiding both your entrance and your first few movements. You notice a two men, but smaller than any you've seen before walking around the bushes ahead, cutting a way through the thick undergrowth and veins of lianas.
  
  "Never should've been here. It's a hellhole all the way through. Fighting giants, and for fucking what, a piece of shit jungle," the left one groans after failing a few swings.
  "Easy there, you heard the boss. The lower you go, the more tech they've got hidden."
  "Fucking tech you say. Tell me, why would they be charging us with fucking swords if they got tech?"
  "Didn't you see our bullets bouncing off their plate? I'm telling you, Josh, There's hidden treasure here. First ship to land in hundred and twenty years. That's fucking four generations, Josh, and they'll remember us for a thousand more if we turn this thing back home."
  
  You've heard enough. Your skin feels cold again, the good kind, and you walk towards your first two victims. The first doesn't get the chance to respond as your club strikes true. The second gets dispatched just as easily, chest caved.
  
  You're checking them for weapons and just notice they held only a simple sword when the corpse started to talk, "This is Base Charlie, how close are you? Over."
  
  You turn the corpse around and see that the voice comes from a black box around his belt.
  
  "Josh, when are you coming, brother. We're all hungry. I sincerely hope you haven't become too dumb to even use this thing, press the fucking button."
  
  > Respond.
  You press the button. "I close."
  
  After a few moments, the reply comes in. "Stop pressing the fucking button, you buffoon. You're barely hearable. How close are you. Over."
  "Very close."
  "Yeah I got that the first time, what's your ETA?"
  "I eat... You."
  This time the box responds immediately. "Who the fuck is this?"
  
  Deciding the box is too loud for your mission you move on. You weave between the branches, following the rough direction you saw the two invaders were moving.
  
  Then your sixth sense tells you to drop down. A small sound, the rustling of leaves. With your face in the dirt, you focus on the sounds around you. There you hear it, six pairs of feet, calculating every step they take. You wait until they pass, knowing you're on track.
  
  The base was close. Soon the undergrowth retreated, leaving only a few spread-out trees to cover the ground. In the clearing you see houses set up, barely more than tents. On the one side, men are sitting around a fire, laughing merrily. On the other, you see men on edge, their hands on those sticks. This has to be their base.
  
  > pick them off one by one.
  There's a hundred of them. Going in without plan is bound to fail. You think back to your hunts, weakening your prey before striking the killing blow. Yes, you're going to play with them, starting with the six that had passed you.
  
  Retreating into the jungle, you decide on an ambush. After searching, you find a spot just close enough to the camp to make them drop their guard, but not close enough for reinforcements to arrive in time. It's a small creek, with multiple pools nearby. The ground is thick with mud. And so you bury yourself in wait.
  
  When the six arrive, you're ready for them. They're walking in pairs quietly, cursing the place, cursing you. You wait until the first pair is close enough, then latch on the heel of the nearest one. He falls without issue and you bite down on his throat, momentarily lapping down his juicy blood before tearing the whole thing open. Then you jump up and overpower the second one, lifting him up and choking him with one free arm. It's only a few moments when the older soldiers unleash their barrage into your now impromptu meatshield.
  
  You push against the force of their volley for several seconds when you arrive at the second pair. Your club rains three blows on them, before the shooting stops. The last pair looks at you in pure fear, their fingers twitching against a jammed trigger, or their fire has run out, in any case, you grab both of them before mashing their skulls together, coating both in liquor.
  
  The following weeks you pick off their parties, always lying in wait. Every kill feeds you more until their numbers dwindle so far and the parties become so rare, you're getting hungry again. When you go back to their base to plan a new hunt, you start to see the blue banners, and the corresponding knight walking around. Apparently your side won.