Symbiote Mask Stories

Dr. Henson scratched the stubble on his chin. “So, any guesses?” The six residents of Biological Survey Station Delta all stood around the stainless steel table, eyes trained on the object situated they’d carefully there. The whole thing was covered in countless strands of multicolored wires, each one hooked to one of half a dozen monitoring machines scattered all around the room. What could still be seen wasn’t much, since it was only about the size of a volleyball – maybe a bit bigger. After a minute of shuffling and confused glances, Dr. Malek broke the silence. "Some kind of ceremonial mask, maybe?" Dr. Henson gave him a look over top of his glasses – the kind of look that makes clear why no-one volunteered guesses. "What kind of mask" he gestured towards it with an open hand "has fucking veins in it?" Nobody answered. Dr. Ryuzaki and Mrs. Warren both leaned in to take a closer look, quickly followed by Dr. Quinn. Dr. Ryuz

Amy couldn’t sleep. For almost two hours she’d laid listless on top of her unwashed sheets staring at the ceiling. In that time all she’d managed to do was count how many veiny cracks were now in the plaster. Running count was 57. Her arm had long since fallen asleep, having been wedged under her head to prop it up after she’d decided her pillow was too soft. She hadn’t washed up and didn’t plan to. Instead she’d thrown on a loose grey t-shirt and sweatpants as soon as she got home, letting her blonde hair remain in its matted, pixie cut shambles – complete with grease. ‘Oh well’ she thought ‘don’t gotta impress folks when you live alone, right.’ She could barely move, in large part thanks to her recently concluded waiting shift at Mr. Moogies Family Restaurant – her second twelver that week. Maddie had called out sick, so when Mr. Stone demanded she stay she agreed without much fuss. Not that it bought his good graces. Not even an hour later he went right back to