[i]You do. Let in. [/i] It seemed they had no intention of letting the followers and captain leave the ship's orbit. [i]Leader speak, let in![/i] The small ball of flesh seemed to try and bounce on the ship's metal, as if trying to ram through. However, it was obviously not going to work. The priest was a little annoyed, all things considered. A small frigate, offers them a deal they have no idea how much it will bring them, then asks to speak with the leader! Oh well, perhaps it was worth it.

Aggressive. He was pretty lost in translation, but he could understand that much at least. They were getting impatient. He wasn't sure if they were walking about [i]their[/i] leader or the leader aboard the frigate. The man in the suit shrugged. He would soon find out. The waste disposal doors opened up, huge gates of metal unlocking their key-like teeth. An invitation for the ball of flesh.

The sack made its way through, and when inside, melted around the group of soldiers inside. It seemed that they had weapons, and with their grotesque appearances, seemed rather threatening. The [url=https://www.destinypedia.com/images/thumb/6/60/Destiny-HiveAcolyte.jpg/300px-Destiny-HiveAcolyte.jpg]followers[/url] came out first, gnashing their teeth and barking at the surrounding area. They were followed by a [url=http://cdn2-www.playstationlifestyle.net/assets/uploads/2016/05/DOOM-2016-04-555x328-555x328.jpg]Captain[/url] with his black gun, purple crystals sticking out the top. He put a hand up to calm the followers, and looked around. [i]Leedr. [/i]

Surprisingly, the armed force wasn't met by security or soldiers. There was only one recipient waiting for them in the repurposed garbage loader. It was a rugged Chinese man, looking to be in his mid-thirties. Faustian facial hair covered his face; a well-groomed moustache and a dab of hair under his bottom lip. He wore a typical black and white suit with a classic red tie. The only thing seemingly abnormal about him was his eyes. There was something that went beyond the charisma he wore on his face. The captain's image distorted in the spherical reflection of the man's eyes, twisting beyond normal limitations, purple crystals swirling in a Warhol-like pattern within his pupils... But luckily, none of them were close enough to see that. "That would be me," he answered, confident in tone, "now where's yours?"

With a grunt of laughter aimed at the man, the captain took a follower by the shoulder and pushed him forward. The follower fell to the ground, and the captain spoke. [i]Here. Leader. Speak what want. [/i] The follower began carving runes on the ground with a bullet from his gun, the heat burning the metal floor. 6 dots, joined together as eyes of sorts. They seemed to glow a dark purple as the follower's arm began to shake, the purple light spread up his arm and to his head. His eyes glowed in the same color- the body twisting and contorting on the floor.

The Faustian man smiled charmingly, surprisingly undisturbed by the convulsing body. "I'm assuming you're the one in charge? I can only hope that you speak a more... conventional tongue. If not, it is quite alright. After all, my job is specifically finding a common language to speak." There was something about the way he said his last statement. A hint of emphasis on 'common language'; a slight pause just enough to bring attention to it. It was articulated, the words most likely being a replacement for another. An eloquent title for an unseen truth. But that all depended on the Hive leader's speech skills.

The follower by now had gotten up, the fire beginning to burn away the armor on his body, soon to be his skin. When it- he- the leader, spoke, it radiated a certain power, and the fire burned brighter. The follower was oddly still compared to the convulsing it had done before. [i]Nyet- Language? Speaking grounds? I have encountered your kind before. Me, somewhere else, some other time. Yumans, you are called, star hunters with little power but infinite potential. [/i] It seemed that the leader knew how to speak the language, something sure to be helpful in the conversation. With every word, a pained expression entered the follower's face, and a chunk of his bone like armor fell off. He remained still.

"Infinite potential," the Faustian man mused, "I like that. No matter where you or every other star-travelling force goes, there's always humans. Resilient as ever, I suppose." His eyes traced the follower's deteriorating form, finally meeting the grunt's face and studying it. He searched the dry and vaguely humanoid face of the follower, drinking in its facial expression. Within himself, empathized with the being in front of him on a level far beyond human. He [i]felt[/i] the pain of the zealous soldier, having his very essence torn apart just for the sake of his leader communicating. But he felt no sympathy for the creature. "Who are you, exactly? Or more importantly, [i]what[/i] are you a part of?"

The creature fell on one knee, and then just as before remained utterly still, its right arm reduced to ash by the slowly consuming fire. The voice spoke out again in response to the man's question. [i]Make no mistake, yuman. I am both all and nothing- rather a desire. A culmination of that desire, that will... To eat. Consume. Destroy everything in one's path to make themselves feel better, or put themselves above others. It never goes away- never dies out. Yumans, animals... They all have a hunger for something, someone. I am that hunger. [/i] The flames grew brighter for a quick moment as the thing spoke again. [i]Years ago, a yuman planet attempted to be rid of me- a religion where they had no desire... But I was far bigger than they could imagine. I am Hunger, I am thirst. I am the will to achieve power. [/i] A chuckle arose from the followers in the back, hearing the words of the great one was both a privilege and a curse, they were sure to be killed out of jealousy when they returned. On the other hand, they had the level of importance as a priest. [i]And that- will never go away. Only recently I have seen it arise. A planet not far from here full of people wishing to better themselves. I seek to investigate. [/i]

[i]"Investigate?[/i] That's a funny way to say 'devour'." He shrugged with open hands, being fully honest. "I get your deal. 100%, all transparent. You want to eat. You know, it's surprisingly easy to understand a zealot. Oh, that's not an insult. That's just my job. My job is to understand whoever I'm talking to. How their mind works, what their motive is. I see what yours is. And judging from how you cut off several planets from an interstellar republic, I can only assume you have the means to ends. That accent of yours. Russian? Interesting. Would you like to know my other job? It's finding a common language to negotiate in. I've discovered that there's one common tongue that everyone understands. Pain. But it seems that you already understand that language, burning your follower alive just to talk to me. On one hand, I'm flattered. On the other, I'm impressed. The mind of a devotee is easy to understand but still quite commendable. I'm guessing your culture is quite accustomed to pain, yes?"

"Pain... Yes, we are. See the person in front of you- see his pain. When one feels pain, they have a desire above all others, to make it stop. This desire is so strong, so powerful that men and woman will murder to achieve their wills. They hunger for this... Solution to their pain." By now, it was clear the follower was nearly dead, his arms and one leg off, but still calm, the occasional twitch sending of ashes across the floor. "Another time, another place, humans saw into my plans, attempted to ward me off by getting rid of all desires- Budism? Boodlism? Something along those lines, but they lacked the willing followers." At the end on the sentence, the follower screamed and turned to ash, spreading its dead remains across the metal floor. Quickly, the captain of the ground smacked another one onto the runes, and the same event happened, with fire, ash and... Pain. "So yes- pain is understood."