"How are you feeling today, Gary?"

He was in the tank, much as Mandy had been. Healing. "I thirst for vengeance."

"Can you help me with a project? Only you can do it."

"Will it cause the suffering of those who put me in the stew pot?"

"It'll probably kill them outright, after considerable struggling. They'll have no choice but to eventually succumb, but only after a lot of existential dread and shame."

"You are a fool, overpromising. But your idea sounds cruel enough to entice me."

"Atta boy. We need a plant. It needs to be hardy and fast-growing. I need it to produce a crop that's nutritionally complete for Humans. In other words, if this is the only thing they can get to eat for months, the Humans will still be healthy."

"Will it be poisonous? Will it secrete corrosives as a defense? I want it to explode when consumed."

"These are great ideas, but that's too direct. If this works, your plant will bring down Human civilization."

A long pause. "Finally, an enjoyable task."

"My man."

The Radio stopped its music. "We interrupt this hour of tunes with a news flash: Taylor the Human was running for his life on the beach."

"Gary, I have to stop this or he'll die the wrong way."

"Ensure his suffering; prolong his existence."

It was just as the Radio had described. Taylor was indeed on the beach, and looking for cover here and there, trying to flee into the jungle, or running right into the surf. He'd duck behind the ubiquitous black stones, which would come to life and attack him.

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Because Ezra was stalking along after him. He wasn't in a hurry; there weren't many places for Taylor to go. It was a small island.

"I said I was sorry," Taylor shouted. He flailed with his real hands and his soul hands, uprooting one of the black stones in a burst of damp sand. That stone spun in the air, then began drifting towards Ezra. It picked up speed, and puffs of flame began stuttering to life on it.

Ezra frowned.

Taylor's huge stone missile shattered midair. The dozen fragments thumped to the sand, then grew multiple skittering crabby legs, hopped into life and started swarming after the bigger boy. Taylor swore and started running again.

"Stop," I said. Under my breath so nobody could hear, of course. I didn't want Ezra to kill anyone; it seemed like that would do a lot of harm to a nice kid like him if he became a murderer. But my Human readers won't deny me a certain bit of satisfaction here, all right?

Taylor was climbing a tree. The newly-born rock-crab things were better climbers than he was. They swarmed up in a graceful spiral, scaling the trunk, reaching him easily. He shouted in pain. Squealed.

He fell, striking the ground hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. He gasped loudly, then stopped, unable to keep yelling as the rock-crabs covered him. He rolled, emitting dreadful airless sounds of misery.

"All right, that's enough," I said. "Please call them off, Ezra. I gotta talk to this guy."

Ezra looked at me, didn't see me. His eyes were distant. Taylor yelled again, in earnest this time with a solid lungful.

The animated attackers stopped moving. Just rocks again. Taylor was sobbing under the pile of them.

"He has to feel it." Ezra was coming back into focus. His voice was full of pity for me, for my ignorance.

"Oh, he will," I said. "But one step at a time. We need him alive. We also need him to do a few things for us, and afterwards you can decide how things go. Does that sound fair?"

He looked skeptical. "You promise? I can do what I want with him?"

"Definitely. You might change your mind, but I won't force it. She's my friend too, and it's killing me to call you off here. I'm trying to be mature and reasonable and empathetic and your way seems like a lot more fun, I confess."

"...All right. If it's you," Ezra said. He turned and pointed at Taylor, a long, cold gesture of promise. I remembered doing something similar with Sean, not so long ago. Ezra left without a word. I saw him wipe his face.

I helped Taylor to his feet. He was covered with small cuts and punctures from Ezra's animated creatures. "Let's get you repaired, Taylor."

"I'm so sorry," he said dully. "I want to die."

"Let's not get crazy yet," I said. "I have a job for you. I think you'll like it."

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