The Road Trip to Hell

Loading a Mimic-Spawn into the back of a tactical rover was surprisingly easy. It hopped in willingly, curling up on a pile of Kevlar vests.

"See?" Kara said, climbing into the passenger seat. "He likes us."

"It’s not a 'he', Kara. It’s a biological anomaly from a dimension of pure chaos," Jax corrected, putting the Rover in gear. "And stop naming it. You know the rules."

"I haven't named him," Kara said, buckling up. "But if I did, I'd call him Squishy."

"We are not calling the world-ending abomination 'Squishy'."

They drove in silence for a few miles. The landscape of Sector 4 rolled by—floating trees, geometric shapes made of light, the occasional screaming rock.

Jax gripped the steering wheel tight. He was hyper-aware of Kara next to him. The way she tapped her fingers on her knee. The scent of gun oil and peppermint soap that radiated from her. Being this close to her in the cramped cab always made his chest ache, a dull, thumping pain he usually drowned out with explosives.

In the back, Squishy began to glow.

"Uh, Jax?" Kara looked over her shoulder. "He’s changing color."

"Is he going critical?" Jax asked, panic rising. "If he explodes, the paperwork is going to be a nightmare."

"No... he’s turning pink."

The Spawn wasn't just turning pink. It was vibrating. It extended a tentacle toward the front seat. The tip of the tentacle shifted, molded, and hardened until it formed a perfect shape.

A bouquet of roses.

Red roses. With thorns made of bone and petals made of wet, glistening muscle.

The Spawn tapped Jax on the shoulder and offered the meat-flowers.

"What the hell is that?" Jax yelled, swerving to avoid a hole in reality.

"I think... I think he’s giving you a gift," Kara said, her voice shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Why?"

"Mimic-Spawns are psychic," Kara explained, pulling up the creature's file on her datapad. "They feed on ambient emotional energy. Specifically... desire."

Jax froze. The Rover drifted dangerously close to a cliff edge. "Desire?"

"Yeah. Wants, needs, unspoken things. He’s manifesting what he tastes in the air."

Jax stared at the meat-roses. He thought about how, just this morning, he had looked at Kara and thought about how much he wanted to buy her flowers, but knew he couldn't because it would ruin everything.

"It’s... it’s probably just hungry," Jax stammered, his face heating up. "It wants food. Roses are... food? In its dimension?"

"Sure, Jax," Kara smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Meat roses. Very nutritious."

The Spawn didn't stop there.

Ten minutes later, it tapped Jax again. This time, it offered a box. It was heart-shaped, covered in red velvet that pulsed like a living vein.

"Is that a box of chocolates?" Kara asked, leaning in.

"Do not open that," Jax warned.

The Spawn opened it. Inside were a dozen small, brown spheres. They screamed. *Eeeeeeeee.*

"Okay, that’s disturbing," Kara recoiled. "Why is it doing this? It looks like a Valentine’s Day display in a butcher shop."

"It’s mocking us," Jax insisted, sweating profusely. "It’s an enemy combatant engaging in psychological warfare."

"Or," Kara said softly, looking at Jax with a strange intensity. "It’s picking up on a very specific vibe in this car."

"There is no vibe!" Jax shouted. "The only vibe is tactical efficiency and the desire to not die!"

Squishy burbled in the back. It shifted form again. This time, it turned into a massive, floating cupid with six eyes and a bow made of spine. It pointed the arrow at Jax.

"I hate this mission," Jax whispered.