Tyco raises his palm.
“What are you doing, Tyco,” Patrick asks. “My brother has given up.”
“I'm sorry you will have to suffer doing this,” says the Greeter softly. “Do it soon before they detonate me.”
The Greeter holds his head and jumps around like he is being electrocuted from inside, and then he stops. Stoically he says, “Do not defy us or I will detonate now.”
A black beam from Tyco slams the Greeter as if it is a machine gun shooting bricks. The little boy collapses to the ground, withering in agony as his glowing youthfulness struggles to repair itself, as if it merely has a skinned knee. Tyco calmly adjusts his palm to track the Greater as he crawls in the gravel, clawing with his bloody fingernails toward escape. Patrick looks at Tyco, shaking with fear.
“How do you like war, Patrick,” Tyco snaps. “Hang on, the best is yet to come.”
Black marbles surrounded by a faint blue glow stream up the beam from the Greeter and enter Tyco's hand.
“Man, this is going to take a while,” Tyco muses aloud. “He is definitely packed. They're lucky he didn't explode when they loaded them. I don't suppose you know the story of Dante's Inferno so that you could tell me while I'm doing this.”
“How can you... you... you be so brutal Tyco,” Patrick says in a quivering voice.
“War's hell, isn't it? I was hoping you could help me pass the time. This is awfully boring.”
“So is the hive connected to him. I'm sure they are trying to detonate him now. Then they will try disconnecting but I've locked up that stupid mechanism they put in him. I'm going to pull it out in a minute when I've eaten all his singularities.”