"Stay away from him, bastard!" Skydds hissed. "I won't let you do this again!"
"Goddamn it, bitch! What the hell are you doing!?"
"What should have been done a long time ago!"
"I... I..." Maskarad was clearly furious, so much so that he lost his ability to speak.
I couldn't continue pretending to be asleep, so I sat up on my mattress.
"Guys, what's going on?" I asked, though I didn't want to reveal that I knew a little more than they thought.
"Shut up!" they both barked almost in unison.
"Skydds," Maskarad said, breathing heavily, "You're breaking all the customs of our society. The customs of the Morlocks!"
"Your customs!" she corrected him. "You made up these stupid rules! It's time someone showed you that you can't do that! Just because you're the only guy for miles around, and these stupid bitches with waterfalls between their legs forgive everything you do, doesn't mean I have to!"
"You've always been different from the others, and time hasn't changed that!" Maskarad yelled and lunged at Skydds with his fists.
It was a terrible attempt; the freak clearly had never been in a real fight before. But I wasn't prepared for such a sudden escalation. A second later, I realized that
Skydds didn't need my help. She didn't dodge the blow, but Maskarad's fist seemed to slip sideways at the last moment, as if his hand hit an invisible barrier at a sharp angle and just slid off.
Before I could be surprised, Maskarad made me feel an emotion I wasn't expecting in such a situation. Want to know what it was? One word—shame. Or maybe "secondhand embarrassment." You know, that feeling when someone else does something stupid, but you feel ashamed anyway.
The adult man who could seriously play a ruthless villain in a space opera suddenly fell to his knees, covered his face with his palms, and cried like a six-year-old girl whose lollipop fell in the sandbox.
"This is just unfair!" he screeched. "Your power is too impossible, how can this even be? You're just invincible!"
Maskarad threatened to throw a full-blown tantrum, but then Kalisto appeared and took the crying man with her. At that moment, I was very grateful to her. Seriously, if she hadn't done that, I'd have had to personally shut his mouth, with my boot.
"What was that all about?" I asked once we were alone.
"It's not a pleasant topic," Skydds grimaced.
"But it almost affected me, so I have the right to know, right?"
The mutant nodded and sat down on the edge of my mattress. I sat next to her, and she began.
"As you can see, the whole Morlock society revolves around Maskarad. Technically, the first person who had the right to call herself that was Kaliban. She's lived here on this station longer than anyone, and she was the one who found us all and brought us here. But she didn't want to become the leader, her personality isn't suited for it. Kaliban is a loner, and even in our group, she doesn't open up to many people."
"Hmm, I see. But then why did Maskarad become the leader? He's... a loser."
Skydds smiled sadly.
"You're right. But he was the only one who wanted it, and more importantly—Rascal. He swayed it back and forth, and these stupid bitches were ready to follow him anywhere, even into a dark and stinky dungeon, or to hell!"
"And you?" I teased her a little.
"No, I joined the Morlocks when their way of life had already settled somewhat. At first, I didn't understand anything, just like you don't now. Maskarad was a bit more patient then. He gave me time to make friends with everyone, and only after that did he show his true, perverted nature."
"Perverted?"
To be honest, I was starting to lose track of everything. If Maskarad is a classic sodomite, then why did he go after Skydds? Or is he just promiscuous?
"Did you see his face, really?" Skydds asked, and without waiting for my answer, continued.
"He was born like that. And because of his insecurities about his appearance, he went crazy. Until adolescence, he hoped to get a government grant for plastic surgery, but then he became a mutant. I think the new abilities finally broke him."
"What are they?" I asked with interest.
"Actually, it's hard to explain in a couple of words, and I don't know everything. But the thing is, when he touches someone, he can influence their biology. Tighten skin, erase wrinkles, heal scars, fuse hands to the buttocks, all that kind of thing."
I involuntarily dropped my jaw. Using the terminology of a certain terrifying universe I dream of never being a part of, that's biotechnics! Manipulating someone else's biology could give immense power and possibilities! Good thing in this world, such an ability isn't held by a little girl! Otherwise, she could become a terrifying nightmare in flesh!
"Let me guess," I decided to voice the thought that came to me. "His abilities don't extend to his own body?"
"Are you sure you're Rascal and not the Smart One?" Skydds teased. "But yes, you're right. He got the power that every plastic surgeon dreams of, but he can't fix his own face."
"That's a really sad story, but I still don't understand where you're going with this."
Skydds looked away and adjusted a strand of hair that had fallen from her braid and was now in her eyes.
"Where am I going with this? Hmm, has he already told you the fairy tale about how the Morlocks are mutants who can't live in normal human society because of their appearance, and are forced to hide?" she asked.
"Is that a lie?"
"It's only part of the truth. As you might have noticed, not all of us have a truly wild appearance for humans. Like Kalisto, for example. Or myself."
"Yeah, that was the first thing I noticed."
"So," she continued after a short pause, "even though Kaliban helps everyone indiscriminately, mutants without obvious differences might eventually want to return to the surface, to human society. Maskarad, on the other hand, is very possessive. Like a spider, he doesn't want to let any new Morlocks go. And to prevent that, he deforms them."
"Sander," I immediately realized, recalling the scarred face of the giant woman.
"We're all affected to some degree," the blonde nodded sadly. "Sander got the worst of it. Samson also has it tough—he's the one responsible for all that fur..."