Staaaaaare…
There the rat kid was, sitting on his bed with five pairs of eyes drilling into his skull.
["Haaaaaaaaaa," finally, a beer.]
The vixen simply enjoys her beer in a corner, ignoring the situation.
[Damn it, serve the rat kid one too.]
[Children shouldn't drink alcohol] —She says, taking a long swig from her bottle without even looking at me.
[Wenches shouldn't talk back to a man] —I retorted, holding out an expectant hand in her direction—. [Now, the beer.]
[Ha, a man? Where? You're a few inches short, kid.]
[Say that after you've held up your end of the deal, wench.]
[Tsk.]
She complains, but still pours me a drink. Good girl.
As for me, I can't move. The brat refused to let go of me or stop crying until she fell asleep again.
[Oi, explain the situation already] —Louise demands.
I'm the one who wants to know why the hell you're all in my room.
[I want to know too, wench. Why is this sister of yours so spoiled? You're her older sister, aren't you? Are you that useless?]
[Shut up, this isn't my fault, you hear?] —she replies, her voice… starting to get tense?
[Alicia has never behaved like this before. The only time I've seen her spoiled is with you. It's not your fault?]
[AHHHHH!?]
[None of that "ahhhh?". Weren't you the one pampering her for five days? Why can't you understand the feelings of a twelve-year-old girl? You idiot!]
[You aaaaaare…]
[Besides, you said you'd be back quickly. "One night at most and I'll be here early," you said.]
[Vixen, I was…]
["I'll be right back," you said. And what do you do? You come back late from picking up schoolgirls, all messed up with a bandage full of dried blood and the face of someone who's going to die as soon as they close their eyes.]
Instinctively, I touched the bandage on my arm. It was stiff and smelled of rust.
[Do you even understand how worried I was when you didn't show up? The fear of seeing you arrive in that state?]
Tears welled up in the sexy office lady's eyes as she scolded me.
[…Fine, I get it, okay? I'll be more careful.]
[Humph... snif...]
Damn you, I'll remember this.
….
After my embarrassing moment of the week, I had the girls take a bath and prepare food before I gave any explanations. I had to clean my wounds, and I knew the brat would demand an explanation when she woke up. I wasn't going to repeat everything.
["This is going to hurt tomorrow…"] —I muttered to myself, examining my reflection in my room's mirror after my shower. The bruises on my chest and back were already a purplish color.
While I was showering, I pulled out more glass shards, but I think that's all of them.
["Stay still,"] —said a soft but firm voice from the doorway. It was Louise's friend character… what was her name? Not the busty gymnast… Friend B?… The one with the motherly aura.
["You still have glass fragments in you."] – Before I could protest, she came in with a first-aid kit. With a patience that disarmed me, she insisted on checking me over and cleaning every wound. It turned out, yes, she was right.
["Have this!"] —the genius thief exclaimed, entering with a jar containing a greenish paste—. ["Muscle relaxing ointment, it'll numb the affected area for 24 hours. It's experimental, though."]
I didn't like that last part, but at this point, I was desperate. I let her apply the cream, which smelled like mint and a chemical error.
["Wait a few minutes, when you start to feel some discomfort, go take another shower to wash off the remnants, rinse well,"] —she said and left.
What's with these investments of the rat kid? Didn't they turn out incredibly well? Go me… As long as I don't grow a third arm, that is… Although…
As I was pondering the benefits of a third arm, the brat woke up and clung to me, apologizing for being a burden and delaying my treatment. How is the rat kid supposed to scold you when you're being so sensible?
Or so I thought. After consoling her, she threw another tantrum when I told her she couldn't come into the shower with me to wash off the cream. I didn't feel like arguing over this nonsense, so I readily agreed.
Up to what age is it considered sensible for a child to bathe with an adult?
Well, the rat kid doesn't give a crap anyway.
However, just as we were about to go in, Louise and the delinquent blocked her path.
["Don't even think about it,"] —Louise said, while the delinquent lifted the brat off the ground despite her protests.
["The leader needs his space,"] —the delinquent added in a deep voice—. ["Now, to the kitchen."]
Whatever.
After the shower came lunch and the explanation. When I finished introducing both sides, the response was unanimous:
["Trash…"]
"Gyajajaja," I don't know what it is, but hate me more.
By the way, the brat's name is Alicia and
the wench's name is Carolain.
The delinquent woman is named Mika.
The genius thief is Kiti.
The busty gymnast is Carmelia.
And Friend B is Amelia.
I learned this at this meeting when they introduced themselves.
Why didn't I know this before?
Why should I care?
After that, it was something like a victory party that lasted until sunset.
I thought I could finally sleep after all the hustle, a little nervous about whether I'd sprout a third arm tomorrow or feel pain down to the soul I don't have, but when I entered my room, I found them setting up a makeshift camp.
["Hey, what the fuck are you doing?"]
["Obviously, we're getting ready for bed, what else?"]
["Well, that makes sense. Now, why in my room?"]
["What's the complaint? Alicia is clinging to you and you don't say anything,"] —said Carmelia, the busty gymnast, as she effortlessly inflated an air mattress.
["Why the fuck are you putting yourself in the same category as a twelve-year-old girl?"]
["It's obvious you're spoiling her."]
["GET OUT OF MY DAMN ROOM!"]
["I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'D ASK US THAT AFTER SHOWING US THE VIDEOS OF THOSE THINGS! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO INSENSITIVE?"]
They say it's for security against the Alba Ambulatis, but something tells me they're lying.
"Woof."
After arguing for a while, Zeus gave the signal and hid under my bed. On the surveillance camera monitors, the silent show began. A white figure appeared at the edge of one screen, motionless. A "blink," and another appeared by the garden fence. Then another on the neighbor's roof. They weren't attacking. They made no noise. They simply gathered, filling every monitor with their patient, terrible presence.
With this, there's no more room for discussion.
Whatever, I'm going to sleep.
..........
JOURNAL ENTRY NO: 444
SCIENTIFIC NAME: Cadaverous mimicus
REGIONAL ALIASES:
Latin America: El Muerto Tramposo / El Último Abrazo (The Deceitful Dead / The Last Hug)
Combat Zones (Anglo): The Carrion Puppet
The Network's Nickname: The Corpse Squatter
NICKNAME (ASTRAD): The Meat Disguise
📊 THREAT ASSESSMENT
CLASSIFICATION: VENATOR / PARASITUS
Its conduct is that of an ambush hunter, a Venator that uses the cruelest possible deception. Its nature, however, is that of a Parasite, as it not only kills but consumes and infects its prey to replicate, using the old corpse as bait to acquire a new, fresh one.
DANGER LEVEL: YELLOW (1 to 5 stars)
The definition of a death trap. At ten meters, it's 1 star, a simple inert corpse. But if you get close enough to touch it, it becomes a 5-star death sentence. There is no danger escalation; it's a binary switch: either you're safe, or you're fucked and irrevocably dead. There's no in-between.
AGGRESSIVENESS LEVEL: OPPORTUNISTIC
The ultimate opportunist. It doesn't waste a single calorie on pursuit. Its strategy is patience and the exploitation of human compassion or greed. It waits for you to approach, whether to pay your respects or to steal a pair of boots, and punishes both acts with the same impartial efficiency.
🧬 COMBAT FILE (TL;DR)
TYPE: Aberration
AFFINITY: Earth / Toxic
🎯 PRIMARY WEAKNESSES:
Ranged detection (careful observation of anomalous signs), Fire (destroys the host body and the parasite), Massive and concentrated damage to the torso (before it grabs you).
📌 KEY STRENGTHS:
Perfect biological camouflage, Nearly inescapable grapple ambush, Body horror factor (paralyzes with shock), Post-mortem replication.
📚 ORIGINS AND COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY
Parasitic Biology: It's the macroscopic, nightmarish version of a Cordyceps fungus or a parasitoid wasp. It's not a spirit or a demon; it is, at its core, a horribly efficient biological process.
Gamer Culture / Cinema: It is, without a doubt, this world's version of Carpenter's "The Thing" or "The Flood" from Halo. An organism that consumes, mimics, and uses the form of its victims to propagate. Paranoia is its main weapon.
Battlefield Folklore: Reminiscent of legends of "devourers of the fallen," spirits or demons that desecrated the bodies of dead soldiers. The reality is less mystical and much, much wetter.
Astrad's Analysis: This is what happens when the universe decides that death isn't the end, but the beginning of an audition to become a meat puppet. It's not evil; it's biological efficiency in its most disgusting form.
📝 DETAILED ANALYSIS
PHYSICAL AND SENSORY DESCRIPTION:
In its camouflaged state, it is indistinguishable from a recent human corpse. However, careful observation may reveal imperfections: an unnatural tension in the skin of the torso, a lack of proper rigor mortis, or small spasms and muffled gurgling sounds that mimic the last gasps of a dying person to attract compassionate prey. Its true form, revealed during the attack, is an amorphous mass of pale, whitish muscle tissue, similar to a skinless octopus, that erupts explosively from the corpse's chest or back. From this mass sprout multiple tentacles covered in toothed suckers and a chitinous stinger to hold and "infect" the new victim.
BEHAVIOR AND ECOLOGY:
It's a single-use parasite. Once it infests a corpse, it uses it as a nest-trap. It remains completely motionless until warm-blooded prey comes within one meter. The attack is instantaneous: the tentacles emerge and grip the victim with immense force, pulling them against the host corpse. Once immobilized, the parasite kills them and begins the process of consumption and transfer, abandoning the old skin to settle into the fresh body. This process is rapid, lasting only a few minutes. The new host then becomes the next trap.
☣️ PROTOCOLS
RECOMMENDED ENCOUNTER PROTOCOL:
DO:
TREAT EVERY CORPSE AS A POTENTIAL THREAT.
Observe from a safe distance.
Look for signs of fake breathing or tension in the clothing over the torso.
Shoot corpses in the chest as a precautionary measure before approaching ("Astrad's Double Tap").
DON'T:
NEVER approach a corpse without verifying it first.
Don't assume a twitch is a sign of life.
Don't kneel beside a body to collect supplies.
Don't trust the dead.
FIELD REPORT (Amazon Rainforest):
"...it was the body of a young girl. She had good gear. Jorge said we should check if she had anything valuable. I warned him to stay away, but he didn't listen. He knelt, touched her shoulder, and said 'rest in peace.' And then the girl's chest... burst. No, it didn't burst, it opened. A white thing, like a squid, came out and grabbed him. He didn't scream, just made a choked sound. I ran. I didn't look back. The dead no longer rest in peace. They're a fucking trap."
🎤 ASTRAD'S NOTES (THE ONLY SHIT THAT MATTERS):
There was always an unwritten rule in the apocalypse: respect the dead. Well, the universe decided that rule was too boring. The Corpse Squatter doesn't just break it; it uses it to wipe its ass and then kills you with it.
This is horror at its finest. It's not a monster that hunts you; it's one that desecrates the last shred of dignity we had left. It uses our own bodies, our faces, as a meat disguise to hunt the people who loved us. It's the ultimate cosmic disrespect. It's the biological equivalent of emotional clickbait.
From now on, the new rule of the Network is simple. You see a corpse? It's not a source of supplies. It's not a tragic reminder of what we've lost. It's a fucking proximity mine with a potential prize inside. The question you have to ask yourself isn't 'what can I get from it?' but 'am I willing to have my chest burst open by something that looks like an albino octopus for a pair of second-hand boots?'. Spoiler: the answer is no.
.........…
Interaction on the Rat Kid Network
Subject: RED ALERT: DO NOT LOOT CORPSES
RatKid10: [VIDEO attached] This is not a drill. Marco (I think that was his name) is dead. Central hospital. DO NOT APPROACH THE CORPSES. I REPEAT. DO. NOT. TOUCH. THE. DEAD.
RatKid4: Fuck. Mechanics? Grapple? Attack range? Give more info, 10. The video is corrupted by panic.
RatKid7: LOL, so now the dead are loot boxes with a surprise inside? The apocalypse is getting creative.
RatKid2: Shut up, 7. This is serious. This fucks up all gear scavenging in combat zones. All of it.
RatKid10: He knelt down. The chick's chest exploded. A thing like a fucking octopus came out and absorbed him. There wasn't even time to scream. I ran. End of report.
RatKid6: Shit. An ambush parasite. Orange threat level at a minimum if the grab is instant.
RatKid7: Nah, it's a noob trap. RPG rule #1: never touch a chest without checking for teeth. Marco (maybe that was his name) was a fucking loot goblin. F.
RatKid3: The problem isn't greed, 7. It's compassion. The report says the thing mimics moans. It's designed to hunt people who still have a soul.
RatKid5: Correct. It's not just an attack; it's an empathy filter. It uses human decency as bait. It's... efficient.
RatKid4: Ok, efficiency analyzed. Solutions. Fire?
RatKid2: And you're going to burn every fucking corpse you see? You waste resources and create a two-kilometer smoke signal. Bad idea.
RatKid6: So what's the protocol? Do we stop looting altogether?
RatKid7: And live on charity? No fucking way.
RatKid1 (Astrad): Stop crying. There's already a solution. It's called a .22 caliber to the chest from 50 meters. If the corpse twitches, it was a trap. If not, now it has an extra hole and you can approach. You're welcome.
RatKid4: …
RatKid6: …Fuck. That's brutally logical.
RatKid7: GYAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA. I'm making the new protocol official. "Astrad's Double Tap." From now on, all corpses are suspect until proven otherwise with a bullet.
RatKid2: Approved. Updating the Network's survival manual. Entry 444: Cadaverous mimicus. Countermeasure: Double Tap Protocol.
RatKid3: F for Marco (possibly his name). But thanks to his sacrifice, we now have a new rule. He didn't die in vain.
RatKid7: He died for shitty loot, but hey, his death now helps us get better loot. It's the circle of life. Or something. Thanks, Marco (let's just say that was his name).