There were more and more prisoners, yet fewer and fewer as well. There were many unfamiliar faces, while familiar ones disappeared every hour.
Relying on his skillful flattery, Baldy had just earned the favor of one of the prisoners' "leaders." He had met Daisy and Hela; compared to them, this alien did not amount to a hair on Baldy's leg. Even so, this was a new patron he had painstakingly cultivated over two days.
The facts proved that having a patron in a Brood prisoner camp was utterly unreliable. His new patron, whose arms had been thicker than Baldy's waist, had been taken away by the bugs and never returned. Baldy knew that loudmouthed bastard was not coming back.
Kree language, Shi'ar language, Xandar language—over the past two days, Baldy had been like a sponge, frantically learning the prisoners' languages. From time to time, he listened to their conversations, trying to figure out a path of escape.
Unlike the prisoners, who had no means of fighting back at all, Eternity's Short Staff still resided deep within his soul. If pushed too far, he could take two bugs down with him. But this was his only trump card and could not be used lightly.
The immense psychological strain had hollowed out his cheeks, while bruises covered the skin he had once maintained so well. He had inflicted them on purpose. He had discovered that the bugs only selected healthy lifeforms as targets, so every day he rammed his head into walls and smashed his chest with stones, all to avoid being chosen by the bugs.
"Hiss! Ah!" The Brood erupted in cries that sounded like cheers. None of the prisoners could understand the bugs' language. They only knew that the Brood had encountered extraordinarily stubborn resistance, and the number of bugs