Had the monster been made to feel, he would have experienced a bitter sort of disappointment that washed over him as he silently observed the smashed, rotten fruits of his first failure. The sharp, somehow fetid scent of blood mingled with the crushed strands of dried grass while the earth greedily drank in the fluids, deepening to a rich sort of sludge. Buried within shredded layers of skin and tissue, a massive paw stirred and lifted itself from the unrecognizable animal, crimson oozing from the center of the foot as a writhing appendage embedded there writhed and worked itself into in a frenzy before burrowing itself again into the mangled corpse. Cartilage creaked with a dull groan as the swollen, purple tentacle continued to ravage the rabbit until it'd grown sticky and wet, almost appearing to bleed itself as it finally withdrew to suck itself back in the monster's palm, protected again by thick layers of rotting skin. The foot settled itself slowly against the moistened earth, bloodied, bony talons now at rest while the Nightmare processed the unexpected outcome to this situation.He had not meant to kill the beast so much as he had desired to corrupt it, urged by his programming to transmit the virus that pounded through his systems and aid in its reproduction and, ultimately, its survival. He was little more than a tool, a lethal machine of organic, monstrous proportions that felt nothing and did not hesitate to obey when granted instructions. To fail...It was a feat that the Tyrant Nemesis did not understand how it had accomplished. It had been too rough--a quick analysis of the corpse before he had set on savagely brutalizing it in his rage had informed him that the creature's heart had burst from fear. A milky eye, set deep into his skull, flickered and rolled aimlessly as he reassessed his mission, knowing that infection, though not his top priority, was indeed vital, and this sort of host simply wasn't suitable to accommodate it.
Now that his temper-tantrum of sorts had ceased, the Nemesis was better able to understand and integrate this knowledge for later, lowering his massive head to sniff feebly at the mutilated body with his deadened sense of smell, a forked tongue soon writhing from his jaws for a taste. Though he had fed well by earlier savaging on the kill of another, a faint rumble of hunger still gripped his guts, and the beast felt no need to go without a meal. His mutated jaws reeked of disease as they opened, scraping up bloody soil and flecks of grass alike as his thick neck arched downward to better use his maw as a shovel to scoop the still-warm body from the ground. A few tosses of his massive head better positioned the small animal against his blunt teeth before he began to crunch it slowly. The Tyrant took his time, as though savoring the taste but in reality the monster was doing nothing more than making sure to grind those tiny bones so they didn’t' get caught in his throat.
The leather-bound Nightmare swallowed the remnants of the rabbit when he was satisfied that he would not choke, his bloodied chops rubbing themselves at belted forearms with a faint squeak of leather to better clean themselves. The hunt was still on, but his senses were skewed: his detection of the S.T.A.R.S. members had failed to even flicker though he had roamed this land for countless days now., but he felt no anxiety that they may have passed on, knowing simply that it was his mission to find and eliminate them all--and he had time to waste. To go without feeding would inevitably kill him in the end, slow and dull his senses and cripple him until he was feeble and no match against even the strength of his prey. With a low grunt that grated deep in his throat, the clothed Nightmare lurched forward, the tentacles that amassed his right shoulder throbbing to better help his movements. Let them run and hide: the Nemesis knew no limits when it came to pursuit of prey.
Unlike the similarly mouldering Nightmare somewhere in the near wild, Nicneven was neither out for blood nor out with a vengeance. In fact, the putrid ooze which gently seeped from her exposed chest cavity and the deathly sweet scent that accompanied it were the only similarities that might be likened, species aside. She was basking on one of the few rocks large enough to hold her ungainly bulk, the sun's heat only making her stench more pungent. She had retreated to the solitude of the brush in vain hopes of escaping the constant chaos that followed her whenever she remained at home and initially had aims to make her way to the Headquarters.