Cynwrig stares down the intimidating wasp, the beetle boy gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. He steps slowly through the broken hiveway, noting every twitch of her wings and every swing of her antennae, looking for the moment to strike. All the while, an all-out war between the horde of zombees and the remaining colony members serves as the backdrop for their final encounter.
The beetle spots his moment and launches forward, throwing a punch at the wasp, powered by all his heroic energy.
The wasp grasps him by the wrist, bringing up her knee straight into his stomach and then throwing him down to the ground. She spins and lifts her leg, axe-kicking down at him for a follow-up!
But the beetle bounces from the throw, fluttering his wings and moving just out of the way for her foot to crack at the ground. He jumps from the ground, launching right up to her, connecting his fist straight to her chin with a loud and definitive “CRACK!”
Stumbling back, Vaspaja rubs her chin, spitting a green goo between her teeth. “You won’t be able to take enough punishment to get through to me, boy.”
He stands his ground, puffing out his cheeks, readying his fists.
This time, it’s Vaspaja’s turn to launch herself forward, her pointed stingertips ready to dig right into him.
Cynwrig deflects one and follows up with his own strike to her chest, but she deflects that back, punching at his stomach.
Cynwrig rises into the air, and Vaspaja takes the momentum to stab at his neck!
The beetle hero screams out as the red-hot venom pumps into his veins, his body twitching, his eyes glowing a sickly crimson.
“I told you that your attempt to stop me was foolish, you little perverted pest. Now, you’ll be waiting on me, hand and foot, for all your unnatural days.”
She pulls the stinger fingers free from him and drops him like a corpse to the ground, but Cynwrig crawls up to his hands and knees, grasping at his throat and coughing.
“Just a matter of time before you’re fully mine, and when you are, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
With that, she leans in and whispers, “All my living subjects are aware of what they are doing, and they can do nothing about it. Some even beg me to turn them into undead husks.” She strokes his chin. “I wonder, little flea, which one you’ll be.”
Cynwrig chuckles, muttering something under his breath.
The wasp pokes his chin, lifting his head. “Speak up, slave. I can’t hear you over the roar of the fires!”
“Funny…” he says, a smirk spreading over his face, even as his eyes glow that dull dark possessed color. “Because it suddenly got a lot quieter in here.”
The wasp’s antennae perk up. Yes, there is the crackling of the colony burning to the ground, but there is nothing else. Not the drone of any of her zombified followers nor the clashing of wax weapons.
She spreads her wings and shoots up into the air, but the trap is already sprung. Bees, from all directions, leap up at her, grabbing her by the legs and pinning her. Securing her arms and sticking her stingers with globs of wax and honey. Others pin her wings, spreading them out, halting her flight.
Vaspaja crashes to the ground, landing face-toward Cynwrig, growling and snarling as she fights to get the bees off her. “You damned wretch! Get them off me.”
“Sorry, mistress!” He says, his body pinned down by a half-dozen warrior bees, “I’m all tied up!”
“Where are my minions!? They’ll rend you all! Flay you alive!”
“Not gonna happen!” A bee says as she lands upon the wasp’s head, keeping her down but tilting the head up so she can see the flight of many bees heading her way.
“We’re all a part of the colony,” another says, hopping on top of one of her sisters.
“But we’re also individuals,” another says, landing at Vaspaja’s stinger.
“Because of that, we can remember everything.”
“We can feel everything,”
“And,” says the queen, landing right before Vaspaja’s face. She cups it, staring at her, “We can fight your mind control.
Vaspaja smirks. “Oh, you think you’re so clever, do you? Tricking me to get my guard down, to feel like I’ve won so you can sneak in and take a victory? Well, that’s too bad! Because there will be no victory for you. There shall only be-mmph!”
Her conversation is caught off as a nurse bee plants her mouth upon Vaspaja’s, transferring into her the gooey sweetness of her honey. The queen stands tall, snapping her fingers. As she does, more and more bees crawl out of the ruins, each bearing the scars of battle as they climb atop the pile, their humming and buzzing getting louder and louder as they form that swarming ball around Vaspaja, the wasp’s cries of protest muffled as more and more weight falls upon her.
So close to them all, Cynwrig can feel the heat of their bodies even from where he is, and the beetle gulps, averting his gaze from the vibrating mass before him.
As the bee stands before the mound of her subjects, she finally sighs and turns to face the beetle. “How are you feeling, bro?”
Cynwrig’s antennae twitch, and he says. “I think… I’m a little sick.”
“I can’t hear her anymore,” the queen says, stepping up to the beetle and embracing him, “But I’m so sorry you got hurt because of me.”
“H-hey, no problem, bro!” He winces. “J… just don’t hug me so tight.”
The queen pulls herself away, taking a deep breath. “Right. We need to find Tik Tik and ensure she’s safe. To me, my sisters!”
The warriors holding down Cynwrig let go of him and follow their queen. The mound covering Vaspaja, however, remains where it is, undulating in the angered and frantic screams of the one entombed within.