"How's it going, Jeff?"
The voice echoed directly in Jeff's mind, startling him just as he was about to lock the basement door. He spun around, but of course—no one was there. Just empty shadows.
"G-got two of them, Doc," he stammered, forcing his lips to move even though he didn't need to speak out loud. With effort, he closed his eyes and focused, straining to send the telepathic reply. Even though Jeff was the second prototype in the Predator series, mental communication had never come easy to him.
His master might've been hundreds of miles away, but the echo of Babinew's presence—his thoughts, his commands—was always clear and chillingly close.
"I found them near the southern part of the city," Jeff added, and as his focus steadied, so did the image of his master in his mind's eye: Babinew in a sharp, shimmering gray suit, handsome enough to pass as a French fashion model in his thirties rather than a cybernetics doctor.
Jeff had gone scavenging at The Beach Mall earlier that day. He'd seen a group of three women get attacked by the infected. One was dragged into a fried chicken shop by a half-decayed corpse. Her screams and the thick smell of blood had brought back memories—of "art" in progress. Jeff had intervened just in time to save the other two and brought them here, drugging their bottled water with a sleeping agent on the way.
"Are they unaltered?" Babinew's mental image narrowed his eyes as he peered into Jeff's thoughts, looking at the two young women curled up behind iron bars.
"I checked—they haven't had any implants or surgeries," Jeff confirmed.
"Excellent. Prep them for the showcase tomorrow."
"Sure, Doc. Want me to, uh… prep them early? You know, in case you want their hearts for dinner?" The thought of serving their hearts fresh on a dinner plate, paired with a carving knife, made Jeff's mouth water. Babinew had once told him it was rich in protein.
"That won't be necessary," Babinew replied coolly. "I'll be there by noon. Just give them a bath and a dose of the new BB formula."
"Got it, Doc." Jeff pulled out a small vial filled with sky-blue capsules.
"Give them the meds," he echoed to himself, then turned his gaze toward the women locked behind the bars. With Babinew's presence fading from his mind, Jeff returned to being himself again.
He paused, nose twitching in the cold air—sniff sniff. Something about this place bothered him. The Jim & Tomson Farm harbored another kind of evil. Something foul. The scent was similar to his master's, but darker, more primal.
Jeff had warned Babinew, but his master said he didn't smell anything—probably just used to his own stench by now. That made Jeff feel a little better. At least he wasn't completely like his master… or that thing hiding out in the woods nearby.
"Hey, Simon!" Jeff waved at his closest companion—subject number three in the Predator line.
"What's up, Jeff? Got anything to eat?" Simon growled, his massive frame wrapped in a tattered overcoat, visibly trembling with hunger.
"Three trays of eggs. But if that's too light, I could ask Doc if he'd let you… sample a limb or two."
"You're the best, Jeff," Simon said, licking his pitch-black lips with a disturbingly bright red tongue.
"Heehee," Jeff giggled, delighted, like a child pleased that his friend enjoyed the gift. Sometimes, just imagining Simon eating was enough to give him a fuzzy, tingling feeling inside.