"Do you have the key, Materi?" ​

▪︎

Hit’s bulbous, lidless orbs focus on the other creature. His own leathery skin is already hardened against the Martian silica storms, unlike Materi’s slick, pulsating mantle.

▪︎

​"Right here." Materi smoothly slides it out of his front vest pocket, handing it over slowly, gripping it a moment before leaving a puddle in Hit's three-fingered hand. His octopus head and tentacles are secreting enough slime to soak his collar.

▪︎

​Hit snatches the key with a flick, grimacing as he makes eye contact. "Could have wrapped it in fabric or something. Ooze smells worse than a prepared Greenland Shark. Stop sweating." Hit shakes his head slightly as he slides the key in. "The map said the payoff is worth your time. Shoot me if I'm wrong when we get down there."

▪︎

​Materi chuckles, his posse echoing him. The other three wear scars from past wars, faces grimacing with macabre toothy smirks. "Fifty-fifty split, right, Hit? None of your tricks?" Materi's sly grin cuts his face as his head tilts back. "Hate to have your head as a hood ornament."

▪︎

​Hit smiles back as he turns the key. With a loud rumble, the twelve-foot gate opens, releasing black smoke. Hit spins away; flesh lifting with a treasure-hunter's instinct. Octi aren't so lucky. The black fog devours them. Micro-mechanical locusts strip flesh from bone in a heartbeat. The mercenaries don't even have time to scream before they are reduced to a red mist, swept away by a passing gale. Dust that blends into the Martian landscape.

▪︎

​"Well, guess I got a ship, and all the profits." He laughs to himself, but the stormy winds answer him, making his smirk pass faster than he likes. He looks into the doorway; it is a large tunnel leading into pitch black.

▪︎

​"Why does it always have to go deeper underground?" Hit flicks on a flashlight and crosses the threshold.

▪︎

​Gunfire behind him. Hit turns to see Marker-65. A cybernetic soldier from Earth Zero. Fully integrated weaponry, artificial intelligence fused brain, perfect combination of flesh and liquid metal. Priced at a high enough bounty, they spare nothing but their best.

▪︎

​"Damn, can never catch a break." Hit grips the door, pulling it closed. A beep confirms it's locked.

▪︎

01000111 01001100 01000001

▪︎

​Outside, Marker-65's gun-arm returns to a hand. "This is M-65, Hit has been located on Mars. He appears to have entered a hidden tomb. Do you think he found another gate?"

▪︎

​"Roger that M-65. He cannot leave with anything from that planet. By any means necessary." Their comms cut off.

▪︎

​Marker-65 smiles. "Perfect, take that as a yes."

▪︎

01001111 01101111 01010111

▪︎

Inside, Hit makes his way down the tunnel.

▪︎

"Booby traps, booby traps, booby traps•••" A loud snap echoes, and he hits the ground. A spike protrudes from the left wall into the right one at waist level. He begins crawling, agile on all fours. Hands and feet test the ground before he applies pressure. "So basic, saw one then you have seen'em all."

▪︎

​A golden door comes into view. The Grey, as his species is known, snickers, standing and walking closer to the door. "Sufficiency over symposium, power is held within. To open this door is to unleash hell across the known universe."

▪︎

​His fingers trace the Martian text as he continues translating aloud. "Behold. Death in all her beauty." He spots a button on the side. "That's it, a button press? Just nonsense to scare off bandits. But•••"

▪︎

​For the first time, he hesitates. His hand balls into a fist, nerves shaken before opening them, hand drifting down to his side. "Fuck this, no tomb has ever just had a button to open a royal crypt. Only Pandora's Box was this easy to play with."

▪︎

01000100 01101111 01000001

▪︎

Up above, Marker-65 stands atop the hill. "HQ, prepare for a pulse."

▪︎

Static. "Roger, M-65. Seismic constraints are active. Do not destabilize the core. The Administration wants a clean extraction, not a climate event. Don't need any more whining about global warming."

▪︎

"No promises." They place their hand on the ground, body whirring, limbs glowing, then a wave bursts out around them in all directions creating an encased sphere. Silence. Then, a cracking sound as their palm digs down an inch causing a massive earthquake.

▪︎

01010011 01101011 01011001

▪︎

Beneath, cavern begins crumbling. Hit stares around erratically. "Damn robot has lost its wiring." He stares at the button for a moment. Debris smacks him in the back of his head. Striking with enough force to cause black blood to trickle down the center of his forehead. Concussed, he lunges forward and slams his palm on the button. Everything stops moving. All noise ceases to exist. The only sound is the door swooshing open revealing a being inside.

▪︎

A woman steps through, her eyes burning garnets in the darkness. ​"Watōr isti tō erþāi. Lībą isti tō leuhtai. Dauþuz gangiþ undar." ​The ruby color of her eyes shifts, dilating into two carmine pupils. She looks human. "What is your name, little Grey?" The woman's voice is soft and sweet, but her demeanor is confident. Mesmerizing. She is graceful, elegant, yet catlike.

▪︎

​Hit turns his head toward a small dust speck floating inches from his eye. "What are you?" He slides backwards. "Who... who are you?"

▪︎

​She giggles. "That, my dear, is the same answer. I am Death." She crouches down to eye level with Hit. "Now••• who are you?"

▪︎

​"Death?" Hit lets out a hysterical laugh that quickly tapers off. "You're serious? As in the Grim Reaper?"

▪︎

​"Who is this 'Grim Reaper'? An imposter. I'm Death. The concept." She growls low in her throat. Voice distorted. Bones popping as her limbs elongate. Her neck snaps to the side. "End of all things. Abysmal decay. Rotting corpse creator." Playful giggle as she returns to a kind demeanor. Her stature immediately reverts to normal. "Are you going to continue being rude and not disclose your name? I am finding it difficult to be patient with you•••'wroth' would be a better word."

▪︎

​"My name is Hit. Hit Stakes." He slowly stands up, taking a step backward and bumping into a floating rock. Ping. It flings away at breakneck speed, hitting the wall like a bullet. Startled, he looks back at her. "So your name is... 'Death'?"

▪︎

​"Your response is adequate. Most call me Starlight. Keeps their fingers out, instead of curled." Her voice carries a tinge of dark humor. Hit can't help but smile, she is funny, in a demented type of way.

▪︎

Suddenly, she doubles over gripping her stomach. Face wincing, she lets out a sound as if she is wounded. Hit, driven by an instinct he can't pinpoint, rushes in to help her up. "Are you okay?"

▪︎

"Hungrrry." Her ocular focus is minimizing and expanding rapidly. "Can't. Fight. This. Must. Feed. Soon." Each word is punctuated with a rumble of her throat. Starlight is in need of nourishment that Hit isn't sure he can deliver.

▪︎

A gulp. "What is it you eat?"