Zeros stood over him, dripping alien gore,
silent, monolithic,
with his DEATH GLARE fully activated —
the one that made cyber-cockroaches
have spontaneous motherboard failure.
His voice came out empty, flat, metallic —
as if engineered from pure hatred:
“I. HATE. ALIENS.”
Blindy blinked once.
Twice.
Then, without thinking,
he ripped the wet rag off his own forehead
and slapped it against Zeros’ chestplate.
“Yeah, buddy… fuck ’em all,” he muttered, suddenly smiling.
He fired up the engines.
They roared.
The Z-P-N-E-S howled and shot forward,
leaving Casino Carina™ behind,
along with the chaos Zeros had created
in approximately five minutes,
as usual.
The new engine growled like a pissed-off bull,
the ship sliding through cosmic emptiness at full burn.
Blindy leaned back and exhaled,
in the special way only a man can
who narrowly avoided death
through sheer random luck
and thanks to a creature
that hates him more than anything else in the universe.
He smiled, exhausted:
“Damn… I owe you, buddy. Like…
I already owe you SO many times.
Just throw this one in the pile.”
Zeros, still soaked in Tentaculon gore,
didn’t look at him.
He sat motionless, staring into the void
as if contemplating something far too serious.
Too heavy.
Too existential.
Calmly, even thoughtfully, he said:
“You know… before his agonizing death —
meaning before he closed all eight of his eyes —
he said something WEIRD.”
Blindy lifted an eyebrow.
At this point, he no longer feared head pain:
once the brain’s fried, it stops caring.
“Buddy, forget it.
Those bastards say all kinds of shit before they die…
You did what you had to do.”
Zeros kept staring into the void:
“Yes. But he said… he hated you.”
Blindy grinned, prepping the ship for hyperjump:
“Hah! That’s normal.
A lot of people hate me.
That’s just how I roll, buddy.”
Zeros turned his head. Slowly. Too slowly.
“Yes… but why he hated you — that’s the weird part.”
Blindy’s grin twitched.
“What the fuck does THAT mean…?”
Zeros fully faced him now.
Voice even.
Serious. DEAD SERIOUS.
“He hated you because… you slept with his wife.”
Silence.
Deep, cosmic silence.
Black-hole silence.
Blindy swallowed.
Then tried again.
Didn’t work.
“…His… WHAT?”
Zeros leaned in a fraction,
as if ensuring each word would detonate inside Blindy’s skull.
“His wife. Ten feet tall. Green. BIG. With tentacles.”
Blindy slowly leaned back,
as if attempting to eject himself from his own body.
Sweat appeared instantly.
He stared at the forward viewport
as if pretending the universe could erase what he just heard.
He glanced at Zeros.
Back at the stars.
Then regretted ever being born.
“Fuck ‘im. Don’t believe ‘im. He was lying.
I didn’t sleep with her. I couldn’t.
I got caught too fast—I MEAN, I wasn’t there!
I MEAN—I don’t know his wife! What the fuck, buddy?!”
Zeros exhaled, quietly —
almost disappointed.
“Honestly… shame he died — I mean, prematurely closed all four of his mouths — that fast. I really WOULD have liked to hear the rest of the story.”
Blindy groaned and slapped his forehead again.
BAD.
STUPID.
IDIOTIC.
IDEA.
Pain exploded inside his skull HARDER than before.
He squeezed his eyes shut, threw his head back, and groaned:
“Fffff—FUCK!”
Zeros watched.
Emotionless.
Merciless.
Pure diagnostic analysis of human stupidity.
“That’s the second time.
Are you TRYING to cause yourself a total brain damage?”
he asked, absolutely expressionless.
Blindy gasped:
“F-fuck… Fffffuck yooouuuu…”
Zeros leaned back in his chair, fingers interlocked,
and delivered his verdict:
“And THAT is why…”
He slowly raised his hands.
Paused.
Let the fingers extend forward.
“I. HATE. HUMANS.”
Blindy, still writhing from the pain, slammed full throttle.
The ship violently exploded into hyperspace,
slamming him back into the seat,
knocking the air out of his lungs.
Pinned to the chair,
his voice muffled like a man being run over by asphalt,
he could only gurgle:
“Yeah, likewise. I hate you too, buddy…”
Then whimpered to himself.
Zeros, not wanting Blindy to collapse into a depressive drinking spiral,
knew there was one place
that always lifted his mood.
A very special place.
His absolute favorite.
And, visually,
not much different from their local bar.