Efof - \"In ANOTHER stew\" pt 2

<OOC - This is being posted on behalf of our new trial member Jono>
Who: Efof and Ingen Karpov
Where: Mollopod Mothership
When: After Efof escapes and reaches the prison
<snip>
Efof legged it down a corridor he had never been down. It could have
lead to anywhere, for all it knew it could have lead him directly
into a team of more guards, or into another kitchen with another
large pot. Almost as bad, it lead him into a prison.
<end snip>
Efof sagged his shoulders. He wasn't having a good day so far, but in
five seconds things would start to look up. He saw some movement in
one of the cells, so walked up to the bars for a closer look.
Sat with his back to the bars was a human, he looked incredibly old,
and had a stubbly face. A scar ran down his left ear to his cheek
making him look extremely fierce. Efof recognised his uniform as some
kind of human military. Despite the man looking extremely dangerous,
Efof took his chances and reached for the button to open the cell
door. He hoped that this guy could help him off the ship.
"Hullo." Efof said neutrally.
Ingen woke with a start, jumping straight from the rails and falling
onto his side. For the past few days, the prisons had been relatively
silent except for the taunts of oversized slugs. But now his ears
were filled with mechanical humming and clattering. When he'd managed
to pull his eyes open, it was to find a reassuringly un-sluglike
human standing at the doors of his cell. Or, so he thought, before
his mind registered the extra pair of arms and the abnormal forehead.
"Kiddo, you've, uh... got a little something on your face there."
Ingen hesitantly raised his hand in a half-gesture toward his own
forehead.
"I do? Where?"
"Uh... nevermind. You're not with those slug thingers, are you?"
Efof shuddered visibly. "Oh, no! They captured me, like you. I'm
Efof."
Just as Ingen was opening his mouth to reply, the yelling and
squelching of distant Molopods began to fill the corridor Efof had
followed. Eyes shooting wide open with shock, he leapt to his feet
with surprising nimbleness for his age and barely avoided knocking
Efof over in his rush to get out of his cell, "Follow me! They left
me the rest of my equipment, but took my gun down here somewhere."
"Gun!?" Efof exclaimed, horrified, as he followed the bulky mercenary
down a stairway at the back of the prison.
At the end of a long passageway which, oddly but luckily, seemed to
only lead one way with no doors whatsoever along the walls, Ingen was
confronted with an array of strange and wonderful scents and smells.
He slowed down as he neared the first door he'd seen since running
down those stairs, left half-open. Raising a hand in a gesture of
silence to Efof, Ingen used the other hand to swing the door steadily
open. The room ahead was filled with food and benches and a single
slimy bulk in a chef's hat making quite a racket with banging
something onto the counter. Something familiar-looking. Ingen leant
further out of the doorway, trying to see what the molopod was using,
and froze once he caught a glimpse.
There was a tapping on his shoulder, and Efof nervously whispered to
him, "What is it?"
Ingen turned toward his partner with incredible slowness, as if he
was having immense difficulty in doing so. His teeth were clenched so
tightly they hurt, and he didn't know what colour his face was, but
by Efof's startled reaction he could guess it was probably very, very
red, "He's... using... my winchester... as a meat pulveriser!" He
roared in anger and leapt out of the doorway, bounding toward the
molopod and grabbing the first thing that he could use as a weapon
along the way. The chef turned and froze in fear at the sight
presented to him as Ingen swung the sack he'd grabbed into the
thing's head. Of all the luck, or lack thereof for the chef, the sack
split open and salt showered out over what was very soon a writhing,
slimy form on the ground. Ingen retrieved his gun from the bench and
cleaned the meat off with the now empty sack. Now vastly calmed, he
turned to face a goggle-eyed Efof.
"I wonder how many Chefs these guys still have left," Efof remarked.
Ingen wasn't quite sure what that was meant to mean. Still wondering,
he holstered his gun on his back and held out a hand. "Didn't get a
chance to say my own name. Ingen Karpov, mercenary."
Their hands met and shook, then just as soon as the handshake had
started, the old man turned away and began looking around the
kitchen. Not unduly, he didn't trust the molopods at all. With the
roughness with which they had treated his gun, bits could have gone
missing. They might have even pulled it apart! He slammed a fist down
on the bench in anger, then felt a sudden sense of relief that it
hadn't turned out to be covered in knives and whatever other sharp
things these... creatures used in their kitchens. He looked at the
bench, making sure he hadn't actually hit anything, only to find a
book sitting beneath his fist. It seemed to be new - either that, or
the owner was very careful with it, but he highly doubted that. But
it wasn't the surprisingly high quality of the book that caught his
eye, or the strange positioning of the book's right-sided spine. He
felt a cold sweat wash over him as he read the title, elegantly and
clearly written on the front of the book:
HOW TO COOK HUMANS
He looked up at his partner, who had probably also followed suit in
scouring the kitchens for anything useful, but was now only standing
a bench away, frozen and eyes fixed on Ingen's own. For the second
time in less than a few minutes his look seemed to give the bluish
man no small fear.
Efof seemed almost afraid to ask, but after a few seconds of just
gaping his jaw like a fish he managed to force the simple words
out: "Wh-what did you find...?"
Ingen lifted the book to show Efof the cover. "A cookbook," he said
grimly.
<tag Efof!>