The Nature of Predators - Venlil Foster Brother (3/6)

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Memory transcription subject: Jimek, Venlil Art Student

Date [standardized human time]: February 2, 2137

“Hey! Wait up! Wait for me!” a human voice shouted, followed by the pounding noises of sneakers.

A panting Dustin chased after the exterminators and I, while we were hauling Cylek to the van. There was no need to slow our steps, since we were already taking a leisurely pace to accommodate the hobbled William. My adoptive brother was dashing toward us as quickly as possible—the sight of a grimacing predator, booking it at full speed in my direction, once would’ve terrified me. Instead, my beige-tipped tail perked up with delight; relief glimmered in the human’s forward-facing pupils.

“I went to math class because I expected Cylek to pull some bullshit, and I wanted to be sure you made it there safe. When your desk was empty and I couldn’t find you—bro, I looked everywhere!” Dustin huffed, falling in alongside me. “I was worried sick. I’m one hundred percent going with you; I wanna see this go down. Plus, I’ve been a witness to what this asshole does to Jimek!”

Luala fluttered her wings. “I guess we’re writing two passes to the school.”

“Yay! Uh, I mean, cool. Totally not excited at all. So…you’re a Krakotl?”

The avian pulled her wings back with discomfort. “According to William, I’m a chicken.”

“Or a turkey. It’s hard to tell with the blue feathers,” Mr. Kane grunted. “I still think Cordon Bleu was one of my better names. Chicken Afraido was pretty good too.”

“Are you out of new material?”

“Never. Chicken Francese is new, I think. Or Chicken Salad.”

“Why are you calling her food names?” Dustin protested. “It’s completely inappropriate to promote…eating sapients! It’s not funny.”

“Humor is subjective. She likes it.”

“Sure I do, Bald Ape Stew,” Luala trilled.

Rauln gave a nonchalant ear flick. “William is a fuck-up, but the only thing that’s ‘stew’ about him is his brain. It’s all just soup up there.”

“If I’m stew, I guess that makes what’s in your skull a can of Campbell’s. Hey! Luala Noodle Soup,” Mr. Kane declared. “That’s a good one.”

“Let me guess,” Fyron sighed. “There’s a soup called chicken noodle soup.”

“Sure is. It’s what we eat when we have a head cold. So if I start sneezing, just feed me Luala…or any nearby Krakotl, and I’ll be all better. Good as new.”

“Fascinating, if that’s true. Flesh can cure your physical maladies; fantastical properties abound. Maybe I’ll have Ryan—my fanfic’s main character—get sick. He’ll have to be taken care of, and he’ll have extra bloodlust because of the sensory taxation.”

Dustin made an odd face. “I have no idea what’s going on, but I think you guys need help. Mentally.”

“I don’t know what you expected from the human that was giving away his flamethrower,” I muttered.

“Fair enough.”

As Fyron and Luala both shot Will an indignant look, overhearing my comment about the flamethrower, the human exterminator threw a withering glare in their direction. The Farsul slid the van door open for the predator, who struggled into the backseat. Cylek was tossed into a cell in the back; I thought about telling Dustin to throw paper clips and slingshot rubber bands at him, then realized the guild officers might see that as predator diseased. We couldn’t do anything vengeful, at least in front of the non-Terrans, without the risk of losing their umbrella of protection. Mr. Kane was still on the receiving end of judging stares from his female colleagues, which he brushed off with a smirk. I watched him unwrap a rectangle covered in foil, and pop it between his canines.

“Leave it to Will to eat on the job, every time,” Rauln hissed.

“That implies that the food is going into my stomach. I just like the jaw exercise.” The black-haired human had been chewing for several seconds, without swallowing. “This is gum. Smack this shit between my vicious teeth—which are totally on par with a lion’s fangs—”

Luala poked her head through the door, as Fyron herded Dustin and I into the backseat. “What’s this about giving away a flamethrower?”

William’s lips parted, but it wasn’t to give a response. Instead, he blew a translucent pink bubble at the Krakotl’s beak, with a mischievous glint in his green eyes. Luala flinched back in surprise, before the stretchy material snapped into a stringy mess. The Terran focused his binocular pupils at the bird, and returned to chewing. The avian refused to back down, as Mr. Kane pointed at the steering wheel, prompting her to drive. The predator exterminator raised his eyebrows, inflating another bubble in her direction. The blue bird responded by pecking her beak against the gum sphere, popping it.

“The fuck was that?” William hissed. “Drive, or I’ll stick this in your feathers. It’d be worth the small fortune they charged for the pack at the refugee camp.”

Luala flapped her wings in irritation, climbing behind the wheel. “You can stick the gum up your fat, tailless ass.”

“Lulu! There’s children here!”

“So? It’s not like you’ve censored yourself at all.”

“Well, you’re giving me new ideas for where to stick the gum on you. Just drive, birdie.”

I was unfamiliar with this strange “gum” chewing practice, but it didn’t seem like the adult predator intended to eat it. If this substance was common on Earth, Dustin might know more about it. What was the point of chewing on something without nutritional value, except maybe to control really strong hunger? Was it a drug of some kind? From how my brother reacted to Callsi’s rule about no drugs, that concept wasn’t alien to the Terrans. It didn’t seem like Fyron, Luala, or Rauln had any idea what William was happily chomping on.

If it’s drugs, I kind of want to try it. I never get invited to parties, so this might be my only chance!

I tilted my head at Dustin. “Do you know what gum is?”

“Yeah, uh, it’s a tradition that goes way back in human history. Gum originally came from tree sap, though now it’s made from synthetic, rubbery stuff…that’s basically what’s used in inner tubes. Some of them also contain substances found in oil!” my brother explained.

William’s nose wrinkled with disgust, and he hacked a pink wad into his hand. “What?! That’s gross! Why do you even know that much about gum, kid?”

“I’m a nerd?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, Dustin read the textbooks for fun as soon as he got here. He really doesn’t even need to go to school.”

“I don’t know about that. I like hearing people explain things. Learning things is just…fun. Sometimes, I think of random questions, and I wind up reading about them, and going down a rabbit hole for an hour. Is that weird?”

“No weirder than Will blowing petrol bubbles,” Luala chirped, while staring at the road.

Fyron scrunched her ears. “To be fair, I don’t think he knew it was petrol and rubber. I’m not sure why that’s more disgusting than regular flesh.”

“Meat tastes good, y’all,” William protested. “And to be clear, gum doesn’t taste like rubber. Actually, maybe it does—I don’t fucking know what bubblegum flavor is.”

Dustin flashed his teeth. “I do! It’s a mix of multiple artificial fruit flavors: mainly strawberry and banana.”

“Strawberries!” I squealed, punching the air. “I loved those. We gotta make strawberry lemonade again. If we make a whole bunch, we can do a lemonade stand like you said, by the refugee camp—”

“And help pay Callsi back for art school tuition.”

“Yeah! The money from the guild job will be helpful too, as long as she doesn’t know where it comes from. She works so hard, all by herself.”

“Hang on, back up,” a mystified Fyron interjected. “Where does this gum habit even come from? Why chew on tree sap in the old days…and make something taste good that you can’t eat?”

“Well, there’ve been a few studies that show it has mental benefits in humans,” Dustin rambled happily. “I don’t know if it would work the same for aliens, but for us, the act of chewing improves focus and sates hunger. So it helps your mood, memory, and it helps you eat less to lose weight! It also increases saliva production, which is great if you have cottonmouth.”

Rauln narrowed his eyes, exhaling a low hiss. “Let me get this straight. William is trying to make himself drool? And mashing chewy things between their teeth makes humans sharper? That’s predator instincts! Human brainpower seems to go first and foremost to food and hunger!”

“Nah.” William popped the half-eaten gum back into his mouth, seemingly over his disgust. “I’m just bored.”

“Rauln has a point,” Fyron murmured, with a contemplative expression. “It’s weird that moving your jaw would be that impactful on your psyche, unless eating is your predominant drive. Maybe your instincts exist because your prey would struggle beneath your teeth, and you’d have to focus for the kill.”

Cylek cowered in the cage, sniffling at the persistent food topics. I wrapped my tail around my mouth, and tried to conceal my snicker at how afraid he was of humans. Maybe Dustin could toss up some more convenient facts that would frighten my bully, once and for all; if William’s comments hadn’t gotten these exterminators to light their flamethrowers, my brother would be fine. We might not even need the predator disease interview to terrify that rich brat! The Terran exterminator seemed to cue into the captive’s fear, as his pupils flicked sideways.

“That’s right. I’m a hungry predator!” Will announced, smacking his lips. “Good thing we’ve got some mutton chops lined up in the cage—oh shit, that’s a Venlil. Definitely knew the difference, it’s just curly fur…like Rauln said, my brain’s all on food. Gum won’t sate my hunger forever.”

Fyron seemed to catch the hint, clearly used to his directional eyes. “I remember at our first murder briefing, Will’s instincts were so tickled, that he started snacking next to the corpse photos. The path of least resistance.”

“The first thing my mom did when we brought Dustin home was feed him. It was what the foster program said, and they weren’t liable for harm that happened if you didn’t listen,” I chimed in. “Bro, when’s the last time you ate?”

The corners of Dustin’s mouth curved up. “Gosh. It has been a while, hasn’t it? Callsi’s been feeding me just vegetables, which is super hard since I’m just a lowly predator.”

“It’s been a really long time since you caught a wild animal in the yard. I didn’t like all the blood and guts when you shredded it like—”

“Chicken salad,” William butted in, grinning. “That’s how predators make salad, Lulu, not all that green shit. Every day is a juice cleanse for y’all.”

The Krakotl’s head tilted slightly. “All those chicken names, and so many dishes left in his arsenal. That’s one carcass type. Imagine how many names Will can come up with for mutton.”

“Mmm, lamb chops! I’d fucking love some leg of lamb. It’s no big deal—rich boy’s got two of ‘em. What, you thought our ‘eat the rich’ saying was figurative?”

“STOP!” Cylek screeched, fur sticking upright. “I want Vana! Y-you’re exterminators. Those predators are talking about eating me! Do something!”

Dustin smirked. “I didn’t threaten anything. I’m just talking about how long it’s been since I had a true meal.”

“Can’t help. Paws are tied. Last time I threatened to burn that kid alive, I got in trouble,” Rauln commented. “Besides, you threatened a guild employee.”

Cylek sniffled. “I didn’t know that fucking loser worked for the guild! All he does is sketch with his stupid colored pencils, and look at how quickly he got used to being around a predator: loners have predator disease! You should’ve never hired him.”

“Art isn’t a sign of predator disease. In fact, the guild loves hiring artists. You know what is a telltale symptom? Violence. Jimek was kept out of the herd by threats, as I understand it.”

“The violence was when that predator mangled my jaw! Vana knows I’m doing what’s right, shielding the herd from this scummy family. Nobody cares what the trashy son of a bartender wants to draw. Art is supposed to be classy, which the administrator of the school forgot. There would be no creativity without lots of donations, from people like me.”

“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll ask Will to turn you into meat. What makes you so much better than this kid? You, what, have fun tormenting him? You remind me of my murderous mentor, Nam, who left me this nasty scar to remember him by.” Rauln gestured to an unnatural parting in his neck fur. “Sick fuck who got away with attacks for years. You won’t have the chance to follow his footsteps. I can’t wait to get my paws on you. You belong in a facility, left to rot!”

“It’s about time he gets diagnosed,” I chimed in. “You’ve got to at least send him to a facility. You heard what he said.”

Dustin crossed his arms. “Cylek’s never gonna stop unless we make him.”

“Then let’s fucking make him, one way or another,” Rauln hissed. “Drive faster, Chicken Nuggets.”

Luala trilled in irritation. “Not you too!”

The van had driven up to a storage facility, where one locker appeared to be rented by Fyron. The Farsul hopped out and unlocked it, revealing a massive collection of books within; some appeared to be antiques, signed copies, and rare editions. There was a collection of notes in Venlil script, which appeared to be from something called book club—going back years. She ensured that there was enough room between the stacked boxes of literature, before waving our vehicle in. Luala parked the car, then pulled the metal door shut. A flickering light overhead was the only luminance.

Fyron walked over to William, gently helping him climb out of the car. “Nice and easy. Are you sure you’re going to be alright? I don’t want you to do something that’d seem like Will the prick, if Volek found out about it. We know what happened with…Derva’s assault charges.”

“That was fine. Volek hates the facilities,” Will huffed.

“I just heard how upset you were, when you were talking about being consumed by hate. I care about you, and I don’t want you to fall back into it. Please, let us handle the intimidation. You trust us, right?”

“Nobody more than you, Fyron. I don’t deserve your help, but I’m glad that I have it.”

“You didn’t deserve any of the terrible things that sent you into a spiral either. I wouldn’t have met you without all of your suffering, so something good came of it. It saddens me to think we would’ve never gotten to know each other.”

“Yep. Ahem. Er, nice book collection you got here. Might be worth some money, judging by that coating of dust on there.”

“Some of these books were my mother’s. She was a librarian, and she read me all sorts of alien literature…starting with bedtime stories from across the galaxy. The Harchen tales were my favorite. Their oral traditions are remarkably complex.”

“Any species’ literature that you wish you had your paws on? I need something to get you for your birthday.”

“Yotul stories. I hear they like tales of exploration and feuds, um, still…uncensored by…my people. I’ve had an interest in them since we read about Rilar at the club, but I want the real version.”

“Do you two need a minute?” Luala squawked.

William’s eyebrows slanted downward. “No. Why would we?”

Dustin giggled. “Because you’re practically swooning over each other. She’s clinging to your waist.”

“Shush! Don’t make him mad!” I stamped my hindleg, and shook my head in the human no gesture. “We need his help with Cylek, bro. We can’t give him any reason to bail on us.”

“Wait. They’re not a couple?”

Fyron jerked her arm away from Mr. Kane. “Will’s hurt. I was helping him walk.”

“That’s what his crutches are for,” Rauln growled. “Your lies aren’t fooling anyone. The question is why you’re still telling them, when you could save us all the trouble and go out together.”

Will glowered at the smoky Venlil. “Rauln, I’m warning you. Back off! You’re just acting out because you resent the Farsul.”

“I don’t get that impression,” Dustin chimed in. “For starters, his hackle fur raised when speaking to Cylek, but it didn’t with Fyron, so she isn’t triggering any innate hostility—”

“No one asked you. Shut up. Everyone just shut the hell up!”

William’s cheeks had turned beet red, the same deepening shade that Dustin’s face turned from embarrassment, when Callsi and I hassled him about Terran clothing habits. My foster brother puckered up his lips, and rolled his eyes; I giggled along with him, despite not wanting to get on the human exterminator’s bad side. It didn’t escape my notice that Luala was giving Fyron a pointed look, while the Farsul looked like she wanted to recede into a box of books. The avian waved a wing dismissively, before hauling Cylek out of the trunk. Rauln stepped in with his greater weight, dumping my bully onto the ground.

I don’t know how they’re gonna stop Cylek, but I wanna hear him scream! Maybe they can tie him to some train tracks, like my abstract picture—or burn the storage locker with him in it. The only way this ends is with him dead or in a facility, and I’m gonna see that’s settled by today!

My ears perked up with delight, now that I could finally witness revenge against my bully. I didn’t know that the guild’s pledge of protection would stop Cylek, and I wasn’t sure that I cared whether it did; this had been ongoing for way too long, without any consequences inflicted on him. If this rich bastard was released, Vana’s wealth and influence could protect him from any punishment. Maybe she’d even sue the exterminators for this off-the-books mission to stop me, and the school for not upholding their unwritten pact. The administration never had my back, since Vana’s name was literally on the school tech wing.

Whatever William said about not being consumed by hate, in my heart, I wanted a permanent solution. Rauln’s vitriol against Cylek was a good sign, since he already wanted to beat the shit out of him. I was trapped in an artist job for the guild—the bully’s friends might back off, but only if I had the predator killers behind me—so I might as well get as much as I could out of this arrangement. How long could I hide my new occupation from my mom, especially if the requested drawings were anti-predator? I’d have to go to the office on my off day. The next time she wanted to surprise us with spaghetti, or if she learned the truth about my absence from class today, I would be busted.

This moment had to be worth whatever disappointment Callsi would have when she found out what I’d put in motion. There was no turning back now. Dustin herded me over to the downed bully, and we watched the exterminators crowd Cylek with malice in their eyes. After years of him tormenting me and making my school days a living hell, the tables had turned in drastic fashion. I couldn’t wait to see this predator disease interview play out.

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A/N - VFB 3! Dustin catches up with Jimek and the exterminators, as they haul Cylek off and tease him with food comments. Luala is throwing all sorts of primate names at William, Dustin provides a lesson that's way more than Will wants to know on gum, while Fyron remarks on how chewing improving focus is obvious predator instincts...as Rauln continues to badger her over her feelings. How do you expect Cylek's predator disease interview, hidden away in a storage locker meant for Fyron's book collection, to go? What do you think of Jimek's desire for revenge?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!