Chapter Text
A week after Spider was held hostage at Bridgehead
Scene: Quaritch has finally trusted Spider to leave his cell
Spider's muscles hadn't worked this well in a full week-- he was achy and stiff. Behind him, the pounding boots of his father were behind as they strutted down the corridor and entered the Mess Hall.
"Alright, kid. I'm testing you here. You run, and I put you back. You understand what I'm saying?" Quaritch asked, grabbing the boy's shoulder and instructing him to sit at one of the massive recombinant-sized tables. The kid's legs dangled from the bench as he settled in. An unpleasant look was plastered on his expression as he glanced around at the surrounding area. It was a typical plain, boring area full of hungry soldiers and workers of the Bridgehead force.
"Boy. I need a verbal answer. Do you understand me?" Quaritch was slowly losing patience, but a part of him seemed to know that the kid was under a lot of stress-- so he didn't outright scream at him.
"Yeah..." is all the kid muttered, annoyed eyes meeting his estranged father's.
"You hungry?"
"Yeah."
Quaritch took a step back before pointing a finger at the boy-- straight at his bare, blue-striped skin, and spoke, "You move-- you go back to that cell and eat leftovers," before leaving to seemingly grab some food.
Spider sighed, rolled his eyes and leaned back to where his back was against the edge of the round table as he scanned the area once again with his eyes.
A few humans glanced over at the teenager, expressions weary and confused. Upon seeing the boy's gaze right on them, they suddenly found their poorly made porridge very appetizing.
Only moments passed of peace and mostly quiet before someone appeared behind the kid, spooking him. Z-Dog sat at the bench across from the boy and leaned her elbows against the table's surface, eyes focused on him.
"What?" the kid asked defensively, turning to meet her gaze.
"I'm gonna call you Spider Monkey."
"Why?"
"I don't have to explain myself."
"Okay?" he turned back around, scoffing.
"But-- I would be willing to help you get rid of those... dreads. They're so bad."
"Excuse me?" he turned back around, teeth baring at her.
"You heard me, Spider Monkey. I wanna help you get your nice, luscious hair back."
"You don't know what my hair once looked like-- in fact, my hair has always looked like this."
"You're wrong, buddy boy. You've got your daddy's hair."
Spider sucked in a gasp-- that was like resembling someone to a killer. Spider took it offensively.
"What? Didn't like that? Sorry, bud, you can't help parentage."
"How would you even know that?" he growled.
Z-dog took a slow breath from her back before laughing to herself, "Well, your mother and I were like this--" she interlocked her fingers, illustrating that she and Paz used to be good friends when they were alive-- and human, "I was basically your second mom."
"I don't even know you!" Spider hissed, pushing himself away in anger.
"Oh, you know me. You just don't remember me."
"What the hell are you on about? Crazy ass lady."
"You surely cannot be that stupid, Spider Monkey. You should know that we were once humans. Your mom and I were best friends, and I used to help her take care of you as a baby. Gosh, even at 2 months, you had your daddy's gorgeous blonde locks."
Spider didn't even want to imagine that. He turned away, angry.
"But you let them go to waste. How pitiful, Spider Monkey."
Spider wanted to throw something at the bitch, but he ultimately decided against it. He took a deep breath and listened to the hard-headed soldier continue on, "You might as well call me Auntie Z."
"Ew, no."
"Your loss."
Just as their 'conversation' started to die down, Quaritch returned with a plate of... food...(?) in his hand. It honestly looked like bile. He placed it in front of the enraged boy before taking a seat at his left, eyes now locked to Z.
"You finish all your side work, private?"
"Aye, Colonel," she waved him off, leaning back nonchalantly.
Quaritch didn't do anything in response-- only looked down at the boy who was now picking at a part of that disgusting-looking food with a plastic fork.
"Eat, kid."
"I don't really want it anymore."
"I spent 10 minutes in that line, boy. You'd best eat before I shove it down your esophagus."
"Everyone in this damn place is a freak..."
"I practically raised you, boy, show some respect to your Aunt Z." Z-dog groaned.
"Zdinariski, leave the kid alone." Quaritch put a hand out as if to stop her from antagonizing him even more. He then grabbed the fork from the boy's grasp and stabbed it into the lumpy porridge.
"I'm gonna look weak because of you, boy. I ain't a babysitter. Don't embarrass me," he muttered before bringing the fork to Spider's mouth. The teenager glued his mouth shut, refusing to let the airplane in.
"Just like your damn stubborn mother," he grumbled, pushing the food against the kid's lips. Spider suddenly opened his mouth to protest about how Quaritch spoke about his mom, but that tricked him into getting a mouthful of some weird meat that tasted like plastic.
He immediately went to spit it out, but Quaritch slapped a paper towel against his lips, forcing the food in.
"Swallow it." Quaritch's ears pinned in annoyance.
The boy let out a small whimper of discomfort before gaining the guts to let the slimy food roll down his throat.
Oh, this was going to be absolute hell.