Chapter Text
The smell of stale poison air burned the wide-eyed grubs' senses as it crawled on the warped floor. Hunger gnawed at its tummy as it panicky searched around. It was searching for warmth, and comfort, though it was unsure where it would find such things.
A loud monstrous roar echoed through the air and the grub let out a silent scream. It knew that scary, bad things were to come if it cried out for help.
The grub silently cried as they barely saw an alcove ahead. It weakly crawled to it, exhausted. This could be a sanctuary for a bit. As the grub made their way inside, the smelt crumbs. It almost cried out in joy as the pain in their stomach could be eased slightly.
The grub, once finishing its food, curled up into a ball, attempting to keep as much warmth as possible, desperately wanting a kind embrace once again.
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Fast-paced limped footsteps ran through the poison fog that the nymph sadly didn’t mind anymore. Rope burns marked the nymph's neck. The noose was still dangling around it, cut from the Deadlanders who caught him, wanting him as a snack.
The nymph didn’t want to be eaten. He wanted to go out of his way, not being digested in some monster's stomach.
Fast hard steps echoed behind the nymph encouraging him to go quicker. His lungs were burning and his legs were aching. Tears were spilling out of his eyes as clawed footsteps came closer to him as he could feel the deadlands claws pinching right behind him, cutting his wings.
Harsh sobs left the child as pain tingled through his wings and back, but he continued forward. He soon heard the Deadlander slow its pace, getting tired of the chase. But the child continued further.
His heart was beating and his legs were burning as he was slowing down. He collapsed to the dirty ground. Saliva spilled from the child's mouth as he tried to catch his breath as uncontrollable sobs threatened his thoughts.
But he knew that there were monsters nearby, and he didn’t want to die by them.
So he choked up his sobs, sniffled, and got back up before heading back ‘home’. It took a while but the child eventually limped their hovel that was covered by a metal cap. The child pulled it upward and crawled into the hole that was under it.
He crawled into the hovel until he quickly met with the dirt wall. He then curled up against the floor, his wings upward as hemolymph leaked onto him. The room was tiny, but it was safe and the monsters couldn’t enter the hole. Exhausted, he passed out on the dirt-covered floor.
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As years tore on with many attempts and cuts, the child matured into the fast, but paranoid fly. He learned how to hunt and survive. He has no time to relax or grow, like those living outside of the prison he was abandoned in.
He was tired of life though.
Every day was the same thing. He woke up from an uncomfortable sleep that he was used to. Scavenging for food. Hide. Sleep. Repeat. Occasionally there would be something as anxiety-inducing as running from deadlanders, which was something that Hoaxe was doing right now.
Running used to be strenuous to him, but after years of living like this, he was used to running fast and long. Thanks to the low metabolism he developed from basically starving, he can run on very little energy and sleep.
Besides, the growlers of the deadlanders behind Hoaxe also motivate him.
They felt the forceful pinching claws of a dead-lander right behind his wings. But unlike what happened when he was a kid, he was able to create distance without the dead-lander getting tired first. But unlike when he was a kid, he was running from a horde of them.
As he turned the corner, his blood ran cold and breathily gasped.
He turned to a dead end.
Hoaxe desperately turned around, hoping that he could backtrack, and was met with a vicious claw snapping back at him as he quickly backpedaled.
He was trapped!
Hoaxe backed into the wall, praying that the Deadlanders finish him off quickly.
As the Deadlander charged at him, he instinctively ducked, the claw hitting the wall behind him. Hoaxe looked up at the Deadlander looking down on him hungrily. Its maw opened up, ready to eat him before it suddenly looked up and bolted away from its dinner.
Hoaxe looked up as well to see a large blue crystal coming down on him.
Then he saw darkness.
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Pain was felt throughout Hoaxe’s body as he slowly started to regain consciousness. He felt warmth as something soft was tucked around him. He groggily opened his eyes to see an unfamiliar room.
It was bright. Brighter than anything that Hoaxe has seen before. His eyes burned as he opened his eyes once again, but this time he took in more of his surroundings.
He recognized he was on some sort of padding. It was unlike the dirt floor of the previous environment he was in. A piece of thick fabric was placed on top of him and he could feel warm pressure wrapped around his chest.
He tried to listen, trying to hear if there were deadlanders around, but there was nothing.
Relief filled Hoaxe as his mind started to doze off.
He didn't know how he got there but he slowly let himself drift off to sleep, hoping that this place would treat him kinder than the last.
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He was almost wrong.
In this new place, Hoaxe has seen many almost like him but they weren’t like him. They called him a mimic, a weak counterpart to them. To wasps.
He didn’t know what to make of these comments, but he couldn’t move so he was unable to run away.
After leaving the cushioned tables and their wounds were better, he was forced to clean the wasp's fortress. But the wasps insulted and even hit him when he made his rounds. At the end of his rounds, they would corner him and push him around.
Hoaxe was confused. He didn’t understand why they would hit him for such a thing. Cleanliness is the key to survival and yet these wasps insult cleanliness and leave the biggest mess for Hoaxe to clean.
Maybe it was the fact he wasn’t a wasp is the reason why he was treated like this.
Regardless, he was given a roof over his head and they have given him some clothes. He can occupy his days cleaning the fortress instead of running from deadlanders. His stomach was filled enough, getting a meal per day which was way more than worrying about food.
Hoaxe suspects his situation will be getting better. He has to get used to his new situation.
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He hasn’t gotten used to his new situation.
Hoaxe weakly stumbled into his room, both bruised and bloody. He tried not to whimper, not wanting to get anyone's attention.
His breath was wheezy and he suspects that they broke something this time. On one hand, he held his stomach in pain, and on the other hand, he held complaint forms that were now stained with his blood. Despite the amount of forms he turned in, it seemed like nobody was hearing or even looking at them.
Maybe it was a good thing his complaints weren’t being heard, they can take away what luxuries he has just for a bit better treatment.
He finally made it to the moist hallway and walked in the darkness before seeing the door to his room. He opened it, entered it, and closed it, leaving him in darkness. He got down on his knees and crawled a short way before feeling the lamp that was placed on the side of his room before summoning some flames, turning it on, and lighting his room.
His room was the same size as the closets he goes to get cleaning supplies. One side of the room has the cot he is unable to fit in and the other side has a chest with his meager supplies, only barely having any space in the middle of the room.
Hoaxe held in a sob as he started changing out of the rags that were given to him at the beginning of his stay that was falling apart. He placed those rags to the side and got to his chest to get out the first aid kit and mend his wounds quietly with his burnt claws.
He hated his situation more than anything.
What he currently had was way more than what he had in the deadlands. But it was nothing compared to what everyone else had. He cleaned many areas of the fortress. Including the many barracks that the wasps live in and they had much more room and luxuries than Hoaxe has.
He was jealous until he got to the Queen’s room. Then he got furious.
She had a room that was larger than the main throne room. She had a cushion that was large enough that Hoaxe could lay horizontally and couldn’t touch either end. She had many robes and clothing that felt divine.
He wanted that for himself.
As he completed cleaning his wounds, he slowly got on his night clothes, flinching as the cloth rubbed the ointment-covered wounds and bandages. His eyes darted at the books next to the chest and picked up a worn book and opened it to the bookmarked pages.
The book was about the artifacts of Bugaria, both real and mythical. It was a book that gave Hoaxe some wanderlust, making him want to travel around and witness lands he hadn’t seen. However, this wanderlust turned power-hungry as he came across two pages.
Two of these pages depicted two things that Hoaxe wanted.
One page had an illustration of a plant that is considered to be mythical. The legend says that it has a sapling that gives you eternal life and power. The next page was an illustration that depicts a crown that supposedly gives you the power to bend bugs to your will. Unlike the sapling, there are records of each location where it was held. The current location is lost, but after looking at some public trade records, it seems like the crown is on Metal Island.
“Just a few more days and my life will change for the better,” Hoaxe hummed as he put the books off to the side and slipped into his cot. He found an opening where he could escape and he will take it but for now, he has to act like the servant he was.
He fell asleep with his mind racing with what he could do with the crown and everlasting life.
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The sound of merriment and partying echoed through the fortress. All bugs within the walls were joyous, even Hoaxe.
He swiftly packed his sack which included berries that he stole in small amounts from when he cleaned the barrack, and rations for a few days. He memorized the map and the direction he needed to go so he wouldn’t need to bring one. The only other thing he had was a cloak as he read that wasps were looked down upon. He returned the books he got from the library and left a chest and a cot from his room.
Quickly and quietly, he left. Not wanting to return ever again until he has the power he deserves.
The party was creating much ruckus and noise which was wonderful for Hoaxe as no wasps would be patrolling the area, making him leave quicker.
There weren’t even many guards posted as the cool night air hit Hoaxe as he left through a trapdoor that was in the inner wall. His heart was beating fast, his mind convincing him that it was too easy, but he could tell that the fortress was practically unguarded.
“Better for when I take over,” Hoaxe thought, smirking under his mask as he scaled the wall. His nails bent as his claws strained, but he didn’t care. As soon as he was over the wall he climbed his way back down.
As soon as his feet hit the grass, he bolted right into the tall grass.
Adrenaline and excitement coursed through his veins as the moon and grass danced around him and his cloak grazed him. As he took in sharp breaths, laughs started coming out of him.
He was truly doing this. He was taking his life into his own hands.
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Strong stormy winds blew through the tall grass as Hoaxe snuck towards the Bugaria’s Pier. His eyes shifted to the coastline, to the building, and then to the boat rocking in the water.
A storm was coming in, making the population nonexistent, so the mimic wasp could snatch the boat and get to Metal Island. As soon as he was sure nobody was there, he rushed to the boat. Wet sand stuck to the bottom of his feet as the breeze hit Hoaxe as grass wasn’t protecting him now.
His heart was beating out of his chest as he jumped in the boat and rushed to the steering wheel. He immediately yelled out in excitement as he saw the key still in the boat. He turned the key, making the boat rumble and ready for sailing.
Hoaxe turned the steering wheel and pressed onto the gas and the boat moved forward. Maniacal laughs filled the air as he got further and further away from the coast, barely noticing that the water was getting rockier.
“Yes, yes, yes! I’m going to get that crown and-” Before Hoaxe could continue further with his monologue, a sharp jostle of the boat knocked him to the ground. Surprised by this, he worriedly got up and finally realized how turbulent the water was. He looked at his compass as he noticed he was now going in the wrong direction.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Hoaxe muttered as he attempted to turn the steering wheel only to be met with resistance.
Rough water sprayed onto Hoaxe as thunder monstrously roared. Another sharp jostle rocked the boat as Hoaxe was knocked over once again.
The boat started tilting back and forth, fear ran through him and he immediately got up to search for a lifeboat or life jacket.
He frantically searched but to no avail. Of course, he would choose the one boat without a lifejacket.
Without any time to react, the boat completely turned over. Water encompassed Hoaxe as the boat floor hit his head, knocking Hoaxe completely out. His last conscious thought of him being unable to follow his goals and dreams.
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“Hey, what's that over there?”
“More debris from the storm? There shouldn’t be this much, are our filters working?”
A flinch of a claw interrupted the conversation as a weak cough was expelled. Fast footsteps approached as weight was pulled off of the crushed chest.
“Oh shit, a survivor!”
“How is he still alive?”
“He won’t be alive for long if we don’t move fast. Come on!”
Hoaxe didn't have the consciousness to fight back. He could only accept what fate had in store for him.