Chapter Text
I crave.
The basic instinct of man is to feed. A man can fill their heart with emotions and the mind with thoughts, but never the stomach. The relentless "hunger" is always there. Appetite demands to be sated. It cannot be ignored.
Hunger.
Feed.
More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More.
Claws dig into the thick skin, piercing right through the rough surface, and with a squelch, flesh is hooked. It scrapes, digs, and burrows further until a mixture of pus, blood, and bodily fluids spills out of the ravaged surface.
Food cannot suffice! I need more meal!
Acrid and steaming viscous saliva pools inside the mouth. The moment the jaws pry open, they spill out over the sharp, crooked teeth with fleshy remnants caught in between. The thickness of it stretches from the jaw and hangs loosely.
Thoughts. Feelings. Memories...
The mere "thought" sends the stomach into a twisting, prickling, and stretching sensation. It's unpleasant that the second maw groans in protest.
This state cannot fill my newly acquired taste.
A total of six eyes, three pairs, all direct their once unfocused gaze towards a lone figure. The scent of blood dripping from the fresh stump and peeled open skin is a sickening temptation.
Not yet.
Every inch of their nerves screams to snap their jaws at the lure of freshly cornered prey. Small and insignificant prey, but hunger doesn't choose. It only craves.
My meal is right there.
Their eyes see two figures: one white and one black. They instinctively lick their set of sharp crooked teeth and lean closer at the white figure standing despite the lack of one arm and the moment blood that one has spilled.
This hunger cannot be ignored.
Their lips stretch to a twisted grin, all teeth exposed. Despite the looming hunger, the lone white figure stood there, clutching the part where there had a whole arm. A pair of stubborn, icy blue eyes meets their three pairs of impulsive, hungry eyes.
...
...
...
...
There's a table with dishes occupying every space...yet maggots freely crawl, and flies circle the darkened and oozing "meat". Pus, instead of thick grease, seeps out of the various holes and cuts of the chunks of meat.
Have you heard of a certain story? Humans love stories. It doesn't fill their belly, but it satisfies their need for amusement.
A book smelling like a mixture of human bodily fluids flips open to a random page. It shows a man eating meal after meal in his palace. The story only displays a picture of Greek architecture and what appears to be a king recklessly stuffing his mouth with a fistful of his meals.
A starved heart is lonely, and a starved mind doubtful. Yet when the belly starves...
The next few pages become twisted and unrecognizable. The page is stained with what appears to be blood and a smudge from barbecue. It illustrates a man who lunges at livestock, biting through skin and feathers to quench the thirst with blood and flesh. The supposed king turns his teeth and tongue on living beings to the point that the next page shows him tearing off a wailing infant's soft and brittle leg.
You can never fathom true hunger until this primary need gnaws at your skin.
The page flips further. It now displays the king driven to a corner. Alone and still unsatisfied. Someone who once stood tall and high is now desperately nibbling at his own fingers...then on his leg, biting through his toes bit by bit.
...
...
The faint hum of the AC and the ticking of a wall clock fill the sterile room, a simple private ward. Tirpitz's finger twitches when she first groans. Her eyes don't snap open, not immediately. She slowly opens her eyelids, her eyes adjusting to the white surroundings and the bright ceiling light.
"Was that...a voice...?"
Tirpitz tries to lift her back off the bed first, but the tight and sore sensation keeps her lying down. She groans in mild frustration, but she at least attempts to move her hands. Slowly, she tests each finger in both hands, then after a minute, she lifts her hands and the rest of her arms.
"I'm still in one piece..."
Tirpitz presses her forearms and palms on the mattress. Using her arms as leverage, she forces herself to sit up. Her body responds with a stinging pain reverberating all over her body, especially in her right arm.
"Nngh! My body feels so heavy" Tirpitz grips her right arm
Other than her voice, the faint hum from the AC and the continuous ticking from the wall clock keep the sterile room from being too silent. In the brief moment of silence, she collects her thoughts regarding her last memory. There's the thought of thick black smoke rising to the reddened sky and an enormous creature staring down at her while she holds the bloody stump of her right arm.
"How did I survive? I was sure I was dead. At least...I thought I was done for..."
In what she can freshly remember, the creature is massive, a towering monstrosity of flesh and steel. A monster with a bulky yet top-heavy frame loomed above her. Then there's the pair of tusks, three pairs of eyes, and a second mouth on its stomach.
"..."
Tirpitz lifts her right arm and squeezes her right hand. Her grip is weak and shaky, but she's certain that her right arm right now is real. She even tries squeezing her right arm, sensing only her skin and the fat, muscles, and bones beneath it. It's warm to the touch and nothing like synthetic ones.
"Was I imagining it?" Tirpitz looks at her right hand
Tirpitz grabs the footboard of the bed, clutching the edge with her left hand. Her legs feel mildly numb, but she has enough strength to lift the rest of her body and stand up straight. The stinging pain returns upon taking one step forward, but she clenches her teeth and takes another step.
"..." Tirpitz groans
An unshakable feeling grips her. A pair of clawed hands digs at her neck. Unseen ghostly hands send a shiver down her spine and make the hair on her skin stand. For a moment, her senses shifted drastically. Her body feels heavy, throat sore, mouth aching, and stomach twisting - the senses of a hungry beast overlapping with hers.
Bismarck's office...
Bismarck hasn't fully regained her strength after the last clash. She has unwrapped the bandage on her left forearm and peeled off the gauze taped on her forehead. Her left arm stiffens, and she reacts with a silent groan.
"You shouldn't be pushing yourself, Bismarck. You haven't fully recovered. The fight with Beelzebub nearly finished you off" Graf Zeppelin shakes her head
"Do we have any confirmation of Beelzebub being eliminated?" Bismarck grips the edge of her desk for balance
"Our U-boats only found debris or small pieces from Beelzebub. None of our ships spotted the rest of their body"
"This victory felt...sudden. It's unsettling me as if there's more to it" Bismarck pulls her chair and slowly settles down
"I understand that there's no such thing as an easy victory, but we made it certain this time" Graf shifts her gaze to the stack of documents on Bismarck's desk.
Bismarck's hands move to pull one of the folders stacked on the side of her desk. She flips it open, scanning through documents and photographs. One photograph is a blurry and distant shot of a monster's enormous frame devouring steel and concrete alike.
"Beelzebub the Voracious. They were extremely hard to kill, and they even absorbed Geryon's attacks. Neither Tirpitz nor I vaporized them" Bismarck slides Beelzebub's photo towards Graf Zeppelin
"We cornered Beelzebub and starved the beast. Without sustenance, even the worst monsters fall" Graf Zeppelin turns away
"It was a narrow victory at best. Tirpitz endangered herself when she disobeyed my order to retreat. She should thought more of her own life first before others"
Graf Zeppelin turns to face Bismarck again, her expression somewhat worried and exhausted at the same time.
"You're not really one to talk when it comes to sense of self-preservation, Bismarck" Graf Zeppelin raises an eyebrow
"..." Bismarck lowers her gaze to her bandages.
"Rest up. Leave the rest to us for the time being"