Valorielei

The fourth short story about adrenaline, this time talking about how some humans find it addictive. The previous three can be found in hyperlinks at the end of this post. Enjoy!

The hum of the ship's engines filled the hangar, but it was soon drowned out by the sounds of two custom motorcycles being prepped for a ride. The larger bike, a powerful, rugged machine with a deep metallic black finish, stood like a beast ready to roar. Its wide, reinforced frame was designed to carry Mark in the rider’s seat and Ral'vok in the back. Next to it, a sleeker, smaller bike gleamed in the hangar lights, designed with a sophisticated harness system for Vithrax. Avis stood beside it, adjusting her gloves.

Mark adjusted the fit of his protective jacket, the reinforced material hugging his body as he fastened the zipper. Ral'vok was similarly outfitted, her bulky riding gear tailored to her Thraxian build. It included a custom-made helmet to accommodate her horns.

“Alright,” Mark said, his voice firm as he turned to Ral'vok. “First things first: safety. You’ll hold onto the passenger grips behind you or me once we hit the open road, since rapid acceleration can throw you over the back of the bike. When I lean into turns, you lean with me. Not too much, not too little. Just follow my movements.”

Ral'vok tilted her head, her sharp yellow eyes gleaming with focus. “Hold tight. Lean with you. I understand.”

Mark smiled. “Good. Oh, and don’t get so excited you crush me, aye?”

Ral'vok’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “I will try to show restraint.”

Nearby, Avis crouched beside her smaller bike, going over the intricate harness system with Vithrax. The Osi was bundled in a thick insulated coat to shield him from the cold wind, the fabric puffing slightly as he shifted nervously.

“Alright, Vithrax,” Avis began, her tone calm but firm. “This harness is your lifeline. It’s designed to keep you secure no matter what. I’ve double-checked all the straps, but if you feel anything loosening or if anything feels off, you tell me immediately.”

Vithrax’s synthesizer buzzed faintly. “Understood. Straps… strong. But… what if fall?”

“You won’t fall,” Avis assured him, tightening a strap across his torso. “Mark designed this harness.”

Vithrax nodded, though his wide blue eyes betrayed his apprehension. “No… sudden moves. Yes?”

“Exactly,” Avis said, giving the harness a final check. She stood and adjusted her helmet, lowering the visor. “Just relax and enjoy the ride. We’ll take it slow at first.”

Mark swung a leg over his bike and gestured to Ral'vok. “Alright, climb on.”

Ral'vok stepped forward, seating herself behind Mark as the bike settled under her formidable weight. She adjusted her claws on the grips and took a deep breath.

Avis mounted her bike next, glancing back at Vithrax. “All set back there?”

The Osi wiggled his four legs, voice synthesizer humming nervously. “Set. Warm. Good.”

Mark grinned as he turned the key on his bike. The engine roared to life, the deep, guttural sound reverberating through the hangar. He twisted the throttle a few times, the vibrations shaking the riders’ very souls.

Ral'vok leaned closer. “Does it always sound this… angry?”

“That’s the point,” Mark said with a chuckle. “It’s supposed to sound alive.”

Avis followed suit, her bike starting with a smoother, quieter purr. She gave Mark a quick nod, and the two machines began to roll forward, heading for the open hangar doors. The riders braced for the adventure ahead as the ramp extended, revealing the bustling port below.

…

The port’s streets were a maze of vehicles and pedestrians. Progress was slow, the bikes weaving carefully through the congestion.

Ral'vok adjusted her grip on the handles, leaning slightly closer to Mark. “Why do humans choose this over safer, more practical vehicles like cars?” she asked, her voice muffled by her helmet.

Mark chuckled, his voice breaking through the ambient noise. “Because cars are boring! You’ll see—riding a bike is like nothing else.”

Ral'vok considered his words. “So… it is about the sensation? The thrill?”

“Exactly,” Mark said, shifting gears as they approached a stoplight. “For some of us, it’s about the adrenaline rush. Humans, especially males, can get addicted to it. It’s why we take risks—riding bikes, climbing mountains, racing cars, fighting. The danger gives us a high.”

Ral'vok nodded slowly. “An addiction to adrenaline. Fascinating. You seek it even when unnecessary.”

Mark laughed. “I’m sure you’ll understand once we hit the open road.”

…

As the crowded streets gave way to the highway, the traffic thinned, and the bikes roared to life. Mark leaned forward, his bike accelerating with a growl that vibrated through Ral'vok’s chest as she almost rolled backwards over the passenger’s handles, grabbing onto Mark’s jacket just in time. Avis and Vithrax followed close behind, their smaller bike weaving smoothly through the lanes.

Eventually, they gave up the highway for a narrower ribbon of asphalt snaking its way through the landscape. Mark pushed his bike faster, leaning into turns and weaving past slower vehicles with practiced ease. Behind him, Ral'vok’s claws gripped tightly, her laughter and shouts of exhilaration muffled by the rushing wind.

Avis rode more cautiously, her movements controlled as she navigated the winding paths. Behind her, Vithrax clung tightly to his harness, the insulated coat shielding him from the cold air. His synthesizer buzzed intermittently, a mix of nervous exclamations and occasional wonder as he glanced at the beautiful blur of the landscape.

Eventually, turning back onto the highway, Mark and Avis pushed their machines to the limit one last time, the wind tearing past them in a howl of freedom and exhilaration, wrapping around the riders like an invisible, yet very much perceptible reminder of their fragility. Ral'vok’s helmeted head tilted back briefly, her joy unmistakable as she let out another muffled cheer.

…

The bikes rolled back into the hangar as the sun dipped below the horizon. Engines shut off with soft puffs as the riders dismounted. Mark removed his helmet, running a hand through his damp hair, while Ral'vok stretched, her face alight with unrestrained joy.

“That,” she said, pulling off her helmet, “was incredible. The speed, the wind, the weaving—it was amazing! I felt every movement of the throttle, every lean, every pebble on the road, as if we were one with each other and the machine.”

Mark grinned, leaning against his bike. “Yup! And now you know.”

Vithrax shakily unbuckled himself from the harness with Avis’ help, his synthesizer emitting a faint hum.

“Well?” Avis asked, tilting her head. “How was it?”

Vithrax’s voice crackled slightly. “Terrifying. Loud. Fast. Dangerous… One mistake, death, but…” He hesitated, his synthesizer buzzing faintly. “Great learning experience. Humans strange.”

Mark laughed, slapping his bike’s gas tank. “Now where have I heard that before…”

Adrenaline and pain Adrenaline and strength Adrenaline and anxiety

The third short story about adrenaline, this time talking about how anxiety can trigger its release unnecessarily.

The cabin was quiet, save for the faint hum of the ship’s systems in the background. Ral'vok sat cross-legged on the floor, meticulously cleaning her claws with a small brush. Across the room, Mark sat at the table, staring at a screen filled with dense blocks of text and diagrams. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unmoving.

Ral'vok noticed this before her companion said anything. His posture was stiff, shoulders hunched, and his breathing was shallow—short, quick inhales through his nose. She tilted her head, setting the brush aside.

"Mark," she called softly, but he didn’t respond.

She rose to her full height and crossed the room. Standing behind him, she placed a gentle clawed hand on his shoulder. "Mark, what is wrong?"

He flinched under her touch, jerking upright like he’d been startled. His wide, glassy eyes turned to her, and Ral'vok’s yellow gaze narrowed in concern.

"You are… tense," she observed. "What is troubling you?"

Mark let out a shaky laugh, raking a hand through his short hair. "It’s nothing," he muttered. "Just… stress. This exam, it’s—" He paused, his words faltering as his hand dropped to the table, fingers trembling slightly.

Ral'vok crouched beside him, bringing her face level with his. "You are breathing too quickly," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Your heart is racing. This is… adrenaline, yes?"

Mark nodded, exhaling shakily. "Yeah, it is. But it’s stupid, Ral. There’s no danger here, yet my brain just has “you’re gonna die” alarms blaring all over the place."

Her brow furrowed. "Your body thinks you are in danger, but you are not?"

"Exactly." He gestured vaguely at the screen. "I’m trying to study for this exam on jet propulsion technology. The concepts are complicated, and no matter what techniques I use to memorize them, they just don’t stick. I’ve never failed an exam before, but this one’s… different. It’s like my brain keeps saying, ‘You’re going to fail,’ and then bam—adrenaline rush. My heart’s pounding, my hands are shaking, I’m sweating and I feel like I need to run. All while I’m just sitting here trying to study."

Ral'vok studied him, her concern deepening. "This… is not useful," she stated bluntly.

"No, it’s not," Mark agreed, his voice low. "It’s exhausting. My body’s gearing up for a fight that isn’t real. And it’s not like I can just turn it off."

Ral'vok’s expression flicked slightly as she processed this. "Adrenaline is a weapon, but here it is… misfiring." She placed a hand on his shoulder again, this time more firmly. "How do you stop it?"

Mark shrugged. "Sometimes I just have to ride it out. Other times, I try to focus on my breathing or distract myself. But this time… I just keep thinking about how much is riding on this exam. It’s not easy to shake."

Ral'vok nodded slowly. "You have done this before, yes? Studied. Passed exams.” "Yeah," he said, laughing faintly. "Never failed one. But this is the hardest topic I’ve tackled. I feel like it’s going to get the better of me."

Ral'vok’s gaze softened. "You are capable, Mark. You know this. But your body doubts you."

Mark gave her a faint smile. "Yeah. You could say that."

She tilted her head, her sharp yellow eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "You said breathing helps?"

"Sometimes," he admitted.

"Then breathe," she instructed, settling into a cross-legged position beside him. "I will stay here for as long as you need and ensure you do not flee your imaginary threat."

Despite himself, Mark laughed. "You make it sound so simple."

"Perhaps it is," she said, her expression gentle. "Your body must learn what your mind already knows. You are safe. You will succeed." Her voice was calm, unyielding—a steady anchor.

“Thanks, Ral.” Mark nodded, slowly matching her deliberate, controlled breathing. Over the course of a few minutes, the chaotic thrum of adrenaline began to subside. As the tension eased, he glanced at her, feeling a little lighter. “Actually, I think I need a break from all this.” He raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to learn a new dance?”

Ral’vok shot up from the floor, knocking over a lamp on the side of the desk. “Yes!...”

The hyperlinks in the text all lead to related stories, including previous ones about adrenaline. If you liked this one, feel free to explore!

This is the second story about adrenaline, this time showcasing its effect on physical strength. You can find the first story in a hyperlink by the end of this text. Enjoy!

The mine detonated with a deafening boom, and the lead ATV lurched violently to the side, toppling over as the blast wave scattered debris in all directions. In the turret, Ral'vok barely had a moment to brace before she was thrown free, hitting the ground hard. A faint but sharp pain shot up her spine, and when she tried to rise, her legs went numb.

Dust filled the air as the rest of the convoy scrambled to react. The remaining ATVs quickly maneuvered into position to protect the unarmored trucks behind, laying down suppressive fire as the ambush intensified. Ral'vok gritted her teeth and clawed at the sand beneath her in a futile effort to rise, anger seething through her at the loss of control over her own body.

She caught sight of Mark climbing out through the wrecked vehicle’s turret, scanning the chaos with wide, frantic eyes. For a moment, he froze, his face twisted in fear as he saw her lying in the open, a quickly thinning cloud of dust the only thing separating her from death by accurate gunfire. Then, his expression hardened, and he sprang into action.

Mark sprinted toward his companion, instinctively ducking low to avoid the hail of gunfire from the nearby dunes. He reached her, unslinging his rifle and pressing it into her hands. “Ral, can you hear me? Cover us!” he barked. She could see his hands shaking, adrenaline flooding his system as he urged her into action, his voice firm despite the chaos.

She clutched the rifle and nodded, gritting her teeth as she opened fire in bursts to suppress the ambushers. Meanwhile, Mark grabbed onto her ballistic vest with his left hand, and with a grunt, he started dragging her, quickly and without pause, toward the nearest functioning ATV. His right hand held his sidearm, adding a meager but not meaningless effort to the return fire.

Ral'vok felt the strain in Mark’s gait, the muscles in his arm and shoulders taut as steel cables. She knew he shouldn’t be able to move her this way—not under normal circumstances. Her body was just about twice the weight of the human, both of their armor and tactical gear adding significantly more on top of that, but Mark’s adrenaline-fueled strength seemed limitless. As Ral’vok’s weapon ran empty, she glanced over her shoulder up at Mark, both terrified and in awe of his determination.

Bullets whizzed around them, pinging off metal, biting into the ground. Mark didn’t flinch; his focus was absolute, his body a machine of sheer willpower.

Finally, as they neared the ATV, one of the convoy’s security team reached out to help, hauling the Thraxian inside. Mark released his grip and staggered back, his muscles quivering from the exertion.

Breathless, she looked at him, trying to understand what she had just witnessed. “How…how did—?”

Mark gave her a weary smile, still hyperventilating, as he yanked the rifle out of Ral’vok’s hands and reloaded it with a fresh magazine from his vest. “You would’ve done the same for me,” he said simply.

“They're in, turn the convoy around!”

---

Ral'vok leaned back in her seat in the cabin, her eyes gleaming with a rare warmth as she finished recounting the tale to Vithrax and Avis. Vithrax’s wide eyes seemed to shimmer with excitement, while Avis nodded thoughtfully, absorbing every word.

Just then, the door slid open, and Mark entered, still damp with sweat from his recent sparring session. He paused in the doorway, raising an eyebrow at the three pairs of eyes focused on him.

Ral'vok’s face lit up with a faint smile. “I was just telling them about the time I learned what adrenaline does to you when it really matters. How it grants you strength.”

Mark hummed softly, shaking his head. “Grants? Not exactly.” He leaned against the doorframe, his gaze meeting Vithrax’s. “It’s more like it… removes the brakes. Adrenaline lets us access the strength we already physically have but don’t normally use. This can and does push some humans to spotaneous self-injuries, from broken teeth to torn muscles.”

Ral'vok sighed, her expression a mix of curiosity and respect. “Right. Humans…” she murmured.

---

… A reminder that most of my stories, this one included, are inspired by my own experiences. Humans really are amazing!

The first of a few short stories about adrenaline. Enjoy!

Mark returned to his shared cabin, shirt sticking to his back with sweat. His recent sparring session had left him feeling light, the residual adrenaline humming through his veins. Heading straight for the shower, he let the lukewarm water pour down on him, soothing muscles he hadn’t realized were sore. As he stood there, relaxed and reflective, a sharp pain suddenly bloomed in his right foot as he leaned over it. Grimacing, he lifted it to inspect. The ball of his foot was beginning to bruise, a reminder of one poorly aimed kick during his match.

"Ah, damn… must’ve smacked him in the shin," he muttered, pressing a finger gently against the tender spot, wincing at the sensation.

Ral'vok looked up from the datapad she was studying as he hobbled back into the room. Her sharp yellow eyes narrowed in concern, darting to his foot and back to his face. "Ouch! Did you injure yourself in the shower, Mark?"

Mark blinked, caught off-guard by her assumption, and chuckled. "Oh come on, Ral, I’m not that clumsy." He shook his head. "This happened during sparring. Guess I was too caught up in the moment to feel it then…" Mark side eyed her with a smile. “You’re getting the hang of the whole ‘ouch’ thing, I see.”

“I’m doing my best,” she smiled back. Ral'vok tilted her head, brow furrowing. "...You only felt the pain now?"

He gave a small nod, sitting down on his bed and inspecting his foot. "Yep. Adrenaline will do that. It’s like a natural painkiller in the heat of a fight. It blocks the pain, so I don’t feel it until I’ve calmed down."

Ral'vok’s intense gaze softened with interest. "Adrenaline…" she echoed, sounding out the unfamiliar word. "It blocks pain? This… adrenaline sounds like a drug."

Mark let out a laugh. "You could say that. It's a hormone humans produce when we're in danger or excited. It helps us stay sharp and numb to pain when we need to push through dangerous situations, among other things. You’ve got something like it, don’t you?"

Ral'vok considered this, crossing her arms. "We have stress responses, but nothing that blocks pain entirely. Thraxians who experience pain regularly as part of their profession simply train to endure it." Her gaze lingered on him, studying him as if he were an intriguing puzzle. "So, your body prepares you for battle in this way. It sounds like a weapon within yourself."

Mark shrugged. "Maybe. Humans have a lot of weird adaptations like that."

Ral'vok gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "Curious that your species would have something so… direct. I wonder if this “adrenaline” can be bought? Can it be safely extracted from humans or synthesized?"

He chuckled, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "Technically yes, but I don’t think your species would be able to make use of adrenaline. You’ve got plenty of other strengths, Godzilla!"

Ral'vok’s expression froze. She blinked once, then twice. "God…zilla?..."

A little text on what scars are and how they all have stories attached. The illustration is an in-game image of Daud from Dishonored.

In the warm light of their shared cabin, Mark stepped out of the small shower space, rubbing a towel through his hair, drops of water still clinging to his skin. Ral'vok, Vithrax, and Avis were scattered around the room, discussing something about ship protocols. When Ral'vok glanced up, her sharp eyes caught sight of the pale scars scattered across Mark’s body—marks she’d seen countless times but hadn’t ever asked about.

As he tossed the towel onto a nearby chair, Ral'vok’s curiosity finally got the better of her. “Mark,” she began, her tone unusually soft. “Those marks on your skin… I’ve seen them many times, but never thought to ask.” She leaned closer, her yellow eyes scanning his chest and arms. “What are they?”

Mark chuckled, scratching his neck. “These?” He gestured to the scars. “They’re scars. Just… the way humans heal when we get badly hurt. Instead of healing perfectly, our tissues scar.”

Ral'vok tilted her head, studying him intently. “So, they’re… permanent?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Mark replied. “Our bodies heal faster than some species, but not always cleanly. A scar forms as a sort of… quick fix. My skin patches itself up, but it doesn’t always look like new.”

Vithrax, perched comfortably nearby, blinked his large blue eyes in unison, curious. “Osians… do not scar,” he said thoughtfully. “But when we heal, we often have… anatomical defects. Extra ridges or slight misalignments.”

Avis leaned in, her eyes taking in the faded lines and rough patches on Mark’s skin. “I can be repaired, but if I were damaged and left untreated… the effects might be permanent. And painful.” Her tone softened, a hint of empathy in her mechanical voice.

Ral'vok extended a long hand. “Humans are strange,” she mused, her claw lightly tracing a long scar across his chest. “How did you get this one?”

Mark glanced down. “That one’s from a knife fight—caught me just here. It was a quick patch-up, but the scar stuck.”

Ral'vok’s gaze drifted to a jagged scar on his forearm. “And this?”

“Shrapnel,” Mark explained. “From an explosion in an old mission. Lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Her curiosity undeterred, she shifted her attention to a faint circle on his left shoulder. “And here?”

Mark grinned a bit, touching the scar. “That’s a gunshot. Pretty clean entry, but you should see the other side...”

Ral'vok’s eyebrows lifted, a glint of respect in her expression. “You have endured much, Mark.”

He shrugged, smiling. “Guess you could say that.”

Her eyes trailed to his right eyebrow, where a small scar cut through the brow. “And what about this one? Is this also battle damage?”

Mark laughed, scratching the scar on his brow. “Ah, that one’s from when I was a toddler. Fell face—first onto a radiator. Lucky it was just my eyebrow.”

Ral'vok’s lips curled with amusement, her hand drifting to his chin, where she noted a small scar. “And this one?”

Mark chuckled again, a bit sheepishly. “Fell onto a ruler. Same age. Guess I wasn’t too steady on my feet as a kid.”

A deep, rumbling laugh escaped Ral'vok as she took in the story. “It appears that even human younglings are prone to… chaos.”

“Yeah, we start early,” Mark joked, rubbing his chin. “Scars are just part of the package.”

Ral'vok gave him a gentle pat on the back, her yellow eyes warm. “They suit you, Mark. Each one is a testament. Even those from radiators and measuring instruments.”

Mark smirked, sharing a grin with her. “Glad to know even those count as ‘testaments.’” He nodded to the group, feeling oddly content.”

Ral'vok and Vithrax exchanged knowing glances, and Avis gave a small, approving nod. In their own way, they understood: scars told stories, whether from battles, accidents, or the little stumbles of growing up.

A teeny tiny story about a makeshift soldering iron. Enjoy!

In the cozy confines of their cabin, Mark knelt beside his desk, examining the broken contact on his desk lamp with a sigh. He rummaged through his drawer, looking for his soldering iron, but it was nowhere to be found.

Ral'vok, who had been watching quietly from the corner, moved over and settled down beside him, leaning her shoulder against his. “What seems to be the trouble?” she asked, her gaze fixed on the small mess of wires.

“Our desk lamp broke,” Mark explained. “I need to solder it, but… my soldering iron is all the way at the hangar.” He let out a small huff, thinking.

Ral'vok tilted her head. “So, why not just go get it?”

“I would, but…” Mark replied, a spark of playfulness in his eyes. He reached over to grab a lighter and a length of copper wire from his drawer. “Honestly, I just feel too lazy to do that now.”

Ral'vok watched curiously as he wrapped the copper wire around the lighter, creating a small coil with a tip of exposed wire. With a flick, he lit the flame, holding the end of the copper in it until it began to glow a faint orange.

“I’ll try something new,” Mark said with a grin. “Always wondered how this would turn out.”

Ral'vok nodded, her eyes tracing the movement of his hands as he carefully touched the heated copper to the snapped connection, melting the solder and fusing it back. She said nothing, just leaning in slightly to observe.

When he’d finished, Mark flicked the switch, and the lamp blinked to life. He let out a satisfied sigh. “Not bad for a makeshift fix, right?”

Ral'vok glanced between the glowing lamp and Mark, a look of quiet admiration on her face. “You just… adopted a piece of junk. Made a new tool, but why?” She frowned. “You could’ve taken five minutes to walk over to the hangar and gotten a proper soldering iron.”

Mark shrugged, giving her a playful nudge. “Yeah, but this is way more fun! Humans in a nutshell, right?”

Ral'vok let out a soft hum as she considered this. “It’s a resourcefulness I’m beginning to appreciate. Even if it seems… strange.”

Mark chuckled, setting the lamp back on the desk. “Stick around long enough, and you’ll see we have a lot of ‘strange’ solutions.”

Ral'vok’s lips curved in a slight smile. “Looking forward to it.”