Chapter 60

Chapter 60

Snake Report: Day Whatever/Watching Humans Report: Official Day 10


 

As of midday: Snake and human alliance Camp Alcatraz is under siege. The great war of the deep-waters. A battle that bards might one day sing ballads of.

I have to put on the record here and now: The enemies are stupid as they are numerous.

It has come to my direct attention that Eels are the cannibalistic lemmings of the monster world.

There is not longer any doubt in my mind, this is the truth.

A never ending storm of toothy idiots has fallen upon the stone-spikes. So many, it has gotten to the point where I'm burning them off with fire magic so they don't legitimately form a barrier of flesh for the hundreds of others looking to make their way over the walls.

The Megalodon has taken serious note of this.

It apparently also likes Barbecued Eel, just as much as the other monsters do.

We're now the hotspot for aquatic monster activity. The prime destination: Camp Alcatraz is a hit.

Worth mentioning: The shark fin it has is taller than the island walls. Miss Paladin refuses to leave the center of the island for almost anything now. She's just been staring at it, all day.

Mumbling to herself and watching as it keeps circling us, fin now clearly visible over-top the spiked barricade.

She's not happy.

I'm not happy.

The Eels are stupidly happy.

The Megalodon doesn't seem to have emotion, only hunger.

Insatiable hunger.

Hissss...

I've been more than properly motivated.

Not by faith in the tiny-snake-god, or love- though Miss Paladin is definitely the type of gal I'd take home to show the family in the circumstance they weren't snakes.

No, I'm afraid Operation [Upward Mobility: The Snake-erican Dream] is motivated entirely by Fear.

 

I've reached about 70 slithers up. High enough to experience a fatal landing even if I aim for the water. At this height I'm fairly certain it would be like landing on concrete.

But this is important for more than just fostering a healthy source of paranoia-brought-on motivation. As of today, I'm just close enough to start coaxing the ceiling to head in my direction. Just finally there. Little by little, inch by inch. The closer the rock above gets to me, the easier it becomes to move.

I've been swelling a huge amount of it, just a little at a time. It's like a giant rock-pimple, or an over-sized Hershey's kiss made out of... Limestone maybe? I don't have a clue, rocks were never heavily in my sphere of knowledge beyond a few courses I had to take in my last life.

Exams were passed, but knowing myself- I probably slept through the classes.

My ignorance is wide, as the Underground lake is deep.

Anyways, it's getting there. Big moment.

Ten feet from first contact: Slowing our approach, over/

Roger Roger, this is Mr.Snake to Houston, over.

Checking Snake-acceleration, descent is coming along nicely. We are a GO for landing, over.

Eight feet... Check the balance Mr.Snake, rightward leaning- straighten out, over.

Seven. Looking good from here Mr.Snake, over.

Six... five...four-three-two-one: Presto

 

Houston, we have first contact. I repeat, operation [Snakerican Dream] successful. One small slither for snake, one giant slither for snake-kind.

 

Yes. Ceiling contact has been acquired.

Now for the hard part.

Getting Miss Paladin up here... Alive.

Hiss...

I'll be honest. I wasn't the nicest person before I died.

Not saying I was a terrible human being, but I wasn't particularly charitable or anything. No soup Kitchen shifts, no helping the homeless, no working for the peace corps. I'd donate a dollar to the guys who rang bells outside of the supermarket on the holidays, sometimes. I'd let people merge into traffic sometimes, and I'd spot a coworker for lunch if they were hitting a rough patch, but it's not like I was a saint or anything. I was morally average at best.

Morally average means there is some teetering, back and forth with wiggleroom between the two. It also means that the presence of both Good and Evil sit upon my non-existent tiny-snake shoulders to offer advice.

Intrusive thoughts:

"Leave the Human, save yourself."

 

"Don't leave her! She's your ally!"

 

"Do it! Escape this horrible place!"

 

"Miss Paladin is your friend! You can't abandon her!"

 

"Is that friend worth being eaten by a Megalodon?"

 

"Can you live with the guilt of dooming someone you care about to certain death?"

 

"She's a human! You're a Snake! The moment you get back above ground, she could turn on you!"

 

"Miss Paladin wouldn't betray you, that's nonsense!"

 

"She's the reason you're down here! She and Young Gandalf put you in a Magic Shoebox!"

 

"... That was a one-time thing."

 

"Was it? Was it really?"

 

Geeeeeeez, putting Angel-on-the-shoulder-snake in the corner.

That's some heavy shit.

Real heavy, tiny-snake-devil: You evil little bastard.

Besides, I already told you: I'm a snake, not Satan. How the hell could anyone leave a person in this terrible place? You'd have to be some sort of serial killer.

Megalodon or no, I'm with Tiny-snake-Angel on this one.

No snake or human left behind.