"I'm dying! I'm dying!" Urska cried out in a motherly voice as the cabin around her descended into riotous pandemonium.

From where she rolled back and forth in feigned anguish, Urska could watch the three flight attendants, who had gathered in their cabin, exchange tired and frightened looks. All of them had to be facility personnel.

One of the flight attendants, a young man with a closely trimmed beard and the cold stare of a soldier, offered the cabin a pronounced shrug. He walked out of sight and then reappeared a few moments later with a small machine gun under his arm.

"Everyone shut up!" the armed facility agent shouted, the words clearly rehearsed. "We are Khavaski freedom fighters, and we mean you no harm!"

Urska frowned. It was no fun when facility personnel played along. The other flight attendants followed the man's lead and retrieved other armaments. Some revealed handguns holstered under their uniforms.

"Once our brothers have been released from captivity, you will be returned to your government!" the armed facility agent shouted, brandishing the machine gun's menace. "Until then, remain seated and- "

Urska reached over to the closest seat and tore off its metal footrest. She rolled it into a ball and then flicked it at the young man's head.

The cabin filled with horrified cries as the young man's head disappeared midsentence in a red mist. His body sagged, as if in exasperation, and then collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.

"They'll kill us all!" Urska shouted in the high-pitched whine of a teenager.

"They're going to crash the plane!" Urska shouted in the low baritone of a heavy drinker.

"Someone grab his gun!" Urska shouted in the commanding tones of a retired military colonel. "You there! Grab his gun before we all die!"

She watched with a delighted smile as a portly man with messy brown hair tried to pick up the dead agent's machine gun. The passenger was still seated, with his seatbelt likely fastened, and could not heft the weapon out of the dead agent's hands.

"Agent, shoot him!" Urska said with the stewardess' voice, and one of the other facility agents obliged.

More cries rang out in the cabin as the facility agent fired his handgun twice, and then, much to Urska's delight, the facility agent cried out himself as the passengers around him rose from their seats like an angry tide and tackled him to the floor.

She rolled around the aisle floor with delightful laughter as absolute pandemonium consumed Flight N41402.

The last time Urska had this much fun on a flight, the facility had blown her up with a surface-to-air missile. She could still remember the fireworks that had ensued as the enormous plane had fallen to the snow-capped mountains below in a dozen flaming shards of metal. That had hurt.

And all at once she felt cold claws tickle at her oh so human-like thoughts.

"Because this was a mistake," Urska said as her mirth turned to a̷̩͝s̸͚̐h in her mouth.

The human male in her stomach could be her Prince Charming. If someone fired a missile at their plane, or even detonated a small bomb, Urska could not be certain that the human male would be left unharmed.

And so she rose from her feigned anguish and waddled over to where several passengers punched and kicked one of the curled up facility agents. What a pathetic hijacking.

She pulled the ̸o̶f̵f̷e̴n̴s̶i̵v̵e humans away from the facility agent and tossed them into the air over their seats.

"Just sit," Urska said with a snarl. A bucket of cold water had been thrown over her fun, and she wanted little more than to find a hole to crawl into.

But instead she waddled up and down the entire plane in search of the w̴̙̾ȑ̴͕e̵̩͒t̶̢̛c̶̭̽h̸̲̚e̴̗̋d smell of violence. The loud screams and shouts soon devolved into a collective wet mumble.

"I hate this," Urska said as a dark pall fell over her thoughts. "I hate this, I h̷a̷A̷a̴t̶e this, I hate t̵h̴i̶i̵i̷i̸s."

The human male that churned within her stomach had put an end to her fun. She worried over his safety. She feared for his demise. And she did not understand why.

Urksa did not notice when the plane landed at the facility. She did not notice as the passengers were escorted off of the plane by men with hazmat suits and assault rifles. Her thoughts only returned to the w̷r̸e̴t̴c̸h̸e̶d̶ ̵l̵i̷e̴ that surrounded her as green-blue flames started to tickle her nose and face.

The cabin around her was engulfed in flames. Plastic dripped and puddled into the aisle as the overhead compartments melted. The hundreds and hundreds of seats twisted and burned amidst the intense flare of the heat. The world crackled with an indifferent destruction as her skin turned black and fell away in a powder of a̷s̸h.

She found Professor Cesaire on the facility tarmac beside the merry blaze of Flight N41402. He was flanked by a small cadre of uniformed thugs with enormous rifles and intricate respirators. At least a dozen lab personnel in full hazmat stood further behind them.

"Did you have fun, Zero-Nine?"

Fire still tickled Urska's hair. She smiled for Professor Cesaire and then wretched onto the tarmac.

The lab personnel hurried forward with their many instruments as the worm and the incubator writhed in a puddle of Urska's juices. Her two children were sprayed with a white foam that smelled of poison.

"And the human?" Professor Cesaire asked with a patient smile.

Urska shook her head and patted her deflated belly, its skin a flake of black a̷s̸h.

"He stays here," she said, and with a tired that seemed to come more and more often, she trudged past the small cadre of frightened humans towards the distant outline of the facility.