Diva, from Aeons Torn
Member
If blood is the currency of life, then what's its tax collection service?
Posts: 799
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 21, 2013 16:22:33 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Jul 21, 2013 16:22:33 GMT -8
"Oh. . ."
Resistant as ever, Kuroro leaps away from the frozen petal, and prepares another rose for a fire slash attack -this next instrument being pulled from the now lopsided pink hat. There was simply too much sensation flooding every point of reception possible. Panic is about to overtake any sensible course of action, and then the world snap freezes, powdered by something very similar to Eralam's little "group meetings." Similar was an understatement: it was ultimately drawn upon from the same place.
Reality, the netherworld, Hell, the white zone, Heaven, call it what you will. This is where the Ice Queen drags the pink clad woman who was branded with letters in thick black ink -these numbers reading as "194." Kuroro is in the same hyperstate of emotion and adrenaline flush, and for a moment, she considers that Eralam may have killed her -if such was possible. If so, that was extremely fast. This is confirmed as misconception as Diva slowly shakes her head. "No."
Dejectedly spoken: I can't win. He's telling me to switch sides. He is telling me you fear him; is it true?
Diva's eyes bulge so widely they rip the skin about her face. Her mouth follows suit. !BWUAHHHHHH HAHHHH HAAAH HAAAAAH HAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! This goes on until most of the Ice Queen's head splits apart and smacks into the mystical floor at her boots.
Ssss. . . S-Sire.The Sithspawn hugs herself, feeling intense shame.
The Witch regenerates a face. Darling, brain wracked darling. Fear him? I exist because of him. You see, Fire-starter, he's old, he's had thousands of generations of shoving a stick higher and higher up his butt. It gets to a being, when they win and win and win and win and win. They forget to worry, to care, to help. Why is this so funny, Rose? Why are you so scared?
In the murk, shadows form, those lost causes -people. Millions, then billions, then trillions of souls smiling endlessly, surging forth and rushing to stand at attention before the throne. There are aliens, there are humans, demons of all repute, healers, runners, fighters, generals. This was that population of loss -those who were murdered and added to the currency that made up Diva's existence. They were brave, each clever, the survivors, the last men standing, the ones who came back valiantly, who sacrificed themselves so that others could escape -from literally every walk of life and unlife.
Their morbid queen motions to them, smiling. All these happy faces love you, Kuroro. All these loving faces believe in you, Kuroro. All these believers support you, Kuroro. All these supporters are familiars, Kuroro. These familiars are yours too now, Kuroro.
You think I fear that useless God grinning over there? When you, Fire-starter, were but a whelp, you ate his metallic face. you, Kuroro, sent him to an abyss so deep his masters had to fish him out -those who watch but never learn, who plan but never proceed, who talk and talk and talk and talk until beings like us listen -and to shut them up, heed.
Fear him? He has no reasons, nothing inside, nothing to take, nothing to give? Diva wraps her icy arms around the Sithspawn, embracing her in a hug that was anything but reassuring. I fear you. I rattle when I think of your gaze, I am horrified when I think of losing you, I hate that I can't own you, I shake when I know my love is something you don't want, and when your eyes retreat, and your hands move away, I wish you'd end me like you ended him, because to let anything continue with this grief must be the darkest of sins.
Perturbed, the Pink one tears herself away from the Demon's clutches. This... I.... You... What am I supposed to do? I don't even understand. Let me go free, if you claim this love is true, you'll set me free.
Fool, you've been free to do as you please. Your desire is your only guide. Go on and join him; go back to where your heart strings pull. Dance on my corpse; do as you please. Leave me alone then, go. They told me once the mission began it would always be alone, hard as I may try there would be no one to hold, save the cold eyes of the undead horde. So then go. Go.... GO!
The alternate space collapses as Kuroro is whisked away to reality, but not before watching the Witch crashing in a quiet heap, twisting her hands to cover her face, all in front the millions of smiling faces of those passed.
". . ."
The half raised arm preparing to chuck another rose hesitates as a profound silence takes over the grand staircase.
|
|
Chloro
Member
Sparkle and glitter, gleam, glow - SHINE!
Posts: 1,083
Affiliation: Brushing, Flossing, Rinsing
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 22, 2013 8:19:05 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Jul 22, 2013 8:19:05 GMT -8
The silence was a moment of introspection - who would she target next? Dresden? The Lieutenant? Certainly not Chloro - she had left, somewhere between dodging the the flaming attack and the human Shard's petal dance. In the silence, you could almost hear her brisk steps. Not away and out, but deeper into the cellars.
Her grimace was saying it all - the frustration of being unable to turn her full brunt of her awesome wrath on that creature who had tried to destroy her life, the stupid demi-gods that outmatched and mocked her abilities and even in desperation, she was unable to will her hands into submission to show them how wrong they were. Besides, she didn't want to kill her allies in the ensuing splash damage. So, she was going for broke - the witch's lair. The diva. Gnashing her teeth, she used the same determination that she had used to drag her broken self to freedom. Which now drove her to what would be certain doom. Ironically, she intended to find her freedom and her doom in the same place.
Do you think you can take her on, if you couldn't even take on her mistress? Fearfully, she tightened her hand on the stock of the rifle. But the hands betrayed her again, unclipping the strap and letting the rifle clatter to the floor. You can't win this fight. But she had no intention of fighting them both. They were going to fight each other.
There was no time to undo the treachery of her hands. Abandoning the rifle, she opened her jacket and scattered more cluster mines in her wake, tweaking the proximity and detonation timing. She rounded the corner, pressed for time. She hauled out a razorwire canister that doubled as her floss dispenser, primed the charge and tossed it behind her. Chloro expected Dresden to have the good sense to avoid her trap and hoped that Kuroro didn't.
Then she ran.
|
|
Diva, from Aeons Torn
Member
If blood is the currency of life, then what's its tax collection service?
Posts: 799
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 22, 2013 17:59:45 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Jul 22, 2013 17:59:45 GMT -8
"...What!?"
The Sithspawn's head swivels like a spastic owl, darting left and right in complete surprise.
Where was the whore twin? No! She fell for it; she fell for the most obvious trap in the book! Eralam didn't care about proving this or that, he was just distracting the only creature worth their salt around here. Exactly twenty milliseconds of the lolita's mind was devoted to spouting off a string of profanity and swearings that she had heard the Ice Queen use in this life and in the last one. Bastards, the lot of them. Cowards of the highest degree. Of course the ex-Roboninja took the brunt of her intensity, trying to confuse her with his screwdriver speech. He was the only being standing among the three who could manage to suppress her for any serious amount of time. They must have planned this out before hand, figuring this little bait and switch would be enough to keep the pink one off the chessboard.
Damn them all to the deepest pit of Chaos. She couldn't believe that Diva had proven her point by simply letting her go off for exactly three seconds. Liars, cheats, traitors, little beasts building happiness caked on top of sugary lie after lie. Well, to the rebuilt chevalier, the sugar was starting to stink like a dunghill. Too bad for their little plan. They probably didn't consider Kuroro's superior senses would detect Chloro's deceitful footsteps.
Now they were going to pay. First, she would rip off whore number one's head. Then, she would stab the taller whore's stomach with her flaming hands. Yes. Yes. And then she would grab Dresden's face again and eat it a second time.
Miss Cyclops was correct: when Kuroro didn't speak, there was a problem. The Sithspawn springs backwards and sprints as fast as her undead legs could take her. It is like a pink bullet traveling in nonsensical vectors, jumping up unto the walls, and the ceiling, avoiding a set of mines with sheer dumb luck. She reaches the leaping range, and the pink devil lets out a snarl.
"rrrrrrRRRRAAITCHH!"
What was that old saying? Murphy's law? Everything Diva touched was unlucky. In this case, Kuroro's luck ran out as her foot tripped one of the traps. What happened next could only be described as a chain reaction. So loud was the set of explosions that to pinpoint a single noise was futile. Everybody nearby would be deaf. What results is in a burning pink mass sent flying over Chloro's head, and rolling about on the floor and sliding all the way to the 90 degree turn with a bench on the end. Somehow, the Sithspawn is still alive, in a terrible state. Her newly christened body could not keep up with the damage, and so when the Pink Knight attempts to plant its hands in order to stand and fight, the left arm completely snaps apart while melting, causing her to scream in agony -all thanks to the nerve endings that were provided to make her tick.
"!AHHHH! AARRHHHHHH! KYYAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHHHHHHHAWAAA!"
|
|
The Major
Member
Also known as Sailor Titan
Posts: 5,959
Affiliation: Fallanassi
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 22, 2013 18:17:53 GMT -8
Post by The Major on Jul 22, 2013 18:17:53 GMT -8
And who provided the science behind that poor little thing's suffering? Indeed, who sowed together the body parts, inserting the various systems that powered this madness, this pain? Why, it was that terrible woman who wanted so very much from this one life -who wanted to do so very much in this one contrite life.
She was quite pleased.
From Gustav's perspective, a glowing and wailing ball of orange and pink would fill the opposite side, at least a 100 meters away, casting a sinister twinkle upon the Major's cheeks and glasses. Slowly, she turns to stare at the still screaming figure of Kuroro, who was now attempting to crawl on her stomach down the hallway -away from Chloro.
This makes the corners of the Fallanassi's mouth curl upwards, and upwards, and upwards.
"vWhy, I'm heir to vwatch a tragedy. Alas, it turns aut der show ist actually ein comedy."
|
|
Chloro
Member
Sparkle and glitter, gleam, glow - SHINE!
Posts: 1,083
Affiliation: Brushing, Flossing, Rinsing
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 23, 2013 8:31:34 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Jul 23, 2013 8:31:34 GMT -8
Was it genetic that both the Sithspawn and Chloro had a longing and deep affection for that peculiar perfume of burning skin? Fat chance. It was a love nurtured and fed. No sane human could love the smell of another roasting. But then again, neither Kuroro nor Chloro could be said to even vaguely resemble humanity. Kuroro with her patchwork body and black blood or Chloro's burnt and scarred face, that was permanently locked into a fierce grimace.
She didn't even have the dignity to hide the sadistic satisfaction at the success of her hand's work. Scream. Chloro forced herself to walk slowly, letting her anticipation build, feasting her eye on the previously haughty monster that only needed to be tripped once to be reminded just how short the fall from grace could be. Call the witch to me. The needle was in her hand, filled with a steely grey catalyst fluid. It was one of her personal favourites. Made especially to exploit human physiology, the chemical would turn every once of fat it came into contact with into a highly volatile charge. And in Kuroro's case, it would probably be a equivalent to...
Chloro's approximation of heaven.
The gore-splattered boot stepped on the other hand. Chloro wanted Kuroro's attention away from her own suffering and focused on the suffering to come.
She stabbed the needle down. It didn't matter really when she got her - the thick point would go through anything and was long enough to reach the black core of her being.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Iziz
Jul 23, 2013 9:07:35 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Jul 23, 2013 9:07:35 GMT -8
The work of a master is always worth admiration. Whatever else Chloro might be, Eralam regarded her as an artist when it came to high explosives. As Kuroro triggered the first mine in the daisy chain, he threw up a wall between the blast and himself and Margot, shaped like a snowplow. The worst of the overpressure was diverted around them, and since he knew enough to not seal up the corridor entirely, the blast wave didn't get the chance to pop it like a pipe bomb. As the smoke and the flame began to fade, he was treated to the lovely sight of Chloro's needle plunging towards the twisted body of the beast that had, at one time, killed him. He couldn't help but applaud, his soot-stained face awash with glee.
"Bravo, my dear killer. Do I want to know what's in the syringe?"
The former Shard was once more getting a handle on the situation. The initial confusion caused by Kuroro's appearance was beginning to fade, and the picture was becoming more clear. The troops, mere pawns in the game, were a side effect of Diva's nature. She could have no more let them live than she could have turned them all into fluffy bunnies. Whether they were meant as a lure to get him here or were just in the way was still up in the air at this point. He flipped a coin in his head and came up heads. Operating under that assumption, it was easy to see why she sent her new minion out first; she never did anything the simple way. Misdirection, confusion, those were her stock in trade. He suspected that the bitch had thought that sending out an emissary, one that would have presented him with only minor difficulty should things come down to a fight, was both an olive branch and a test. If he had destroyed her outright, without provocation, it would have been a pretty big fucking hint that Eralam was coming for her head.
That she was dead, or near enough to it, didn't change the fact that the former Whill had shown himself at least initially willing to parlay with the Ice Queen. He did have questions that needed to be answered, after all. If a fight was called for then so be it, but that wasn't his goal. The humans, and he used the word in the loosest sense possible, were there for their own reasons. He would do what he could to protect them if it came to a brawl, but woe unto anyone foolish enough to provoke her needlessly.
The bitch wanted to talk. Eralam was willing to listen, at least at first. If nothing else, maybe he could find a clue as to the identity of her puppeteer. Well, time to face the music.
Eralam turned to Margot and offered his arm to her again.
"Now that that's been taken care of, I think it's time to see what our host has to say. If she wants to fight, the same battle plan applies. If not, well, maybe we'll learn something. Are you okay with that?"
|
|
The Major
Member
Also known as Sailor Titan
Posts: 5,959
Affiliation: Fallanassi
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 23, 2013 12:34:53 GMT -8
Post by The Major on Jul 23, 2013 12:34:53 GMT -8
Is this all you really have, Subject 194? All the power we've poured into you, and you're bested by a set of land mines? Useless. Completely useless. What is the point of this movement if conditions cannot be repeated and expounded upon. Ah, but therein is the problem. You're not the master of that flesh. You're not the master of that killing intent. You don't even get the dignity of choosing your grave. You're not a human. You're just energy: the gun, the bullet, and the hundreds of components that -when built together and properly maintained- fire. Struggle and scream, strike fear or fail, be polished or covered in grime. No matter what you do, Frankensteinlina, you're just a gun.
. . .I hold your trigger; I determine your aim. . .
Now promptly reload, fire, and be expended.The data glasses highlight an option, confirm the selection, and execute a root command. A warning symbol appears and is cheerfully ignored.****** This wasn't okay. No. Nothing about their progress was okay. It was one thing to shoot up an enemy. It was one thing to quickly strike down a defenseless child because the orders told you to do so. Spade to the neck, gunshot to the head, lethal nerve gas. Never in Margot's life had she dragged out a death for the sake of enjoyment. The enjoyable part was when you were in an even fight, trying your hardest to defeat an equal -but this was kicking a dying pup for the sake of kicking a dying pup. What made Dresden and Chloro different from the Ace Spade of Death if they relished in this. Yet, she couldn't back down. They both would no doubt kill her, and things were starting to look up in regards to her lifespan.Hesitation plays out upon Margot's face, and then she marches past Dresden's offer -following after the Agent.
|
|
Diva, from Aeons Torn
Member
If blood is the currency of life, then what's its tax collection service?
Posts: 799
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 23, 2013 16:07:05 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Jul 23, 2013 16:07:05 GMT -8
There was one thing that everyone in this rather morose chateau could agree on from Florentijin, Gustav, Major, various scientists, and other high ranking personnel given clearance to this live broadcast -all the way to Chloro, Dresden, Margot, and the crystal on her person: they all could hear the same icy presence begin to sing in a mixture of minor chords, that when combined create the impression of spiraling depression -or at least seemed that way. As the song went on the songstress began to sharpen the notes, causing the whole piece to wax with the same kind of stabbing, downbeat-upbeat stress that could be timed perfectly with the work of a dagger.
"Now won't you listen, Dearie, while I say, 'How could you tell me that you're goin' away?'" Don't say that we must part; don't break my aching heart."
A tank of Diva's ink gets a little burst transmission from an untraceable source. Where it came from doesn't matter, or whom it came from -that would be answered directly to Eralam at the moment he would need it the most. This tank is not unlike the fuel tanks that powered Kuroro's flames, only that this one was roughly heart sized, and was buried closer to the collarbones. It was suppose to be a stop-gap measure in case the Chevalier died, but Chloro's poison proved the age old adage: desperate measures, for desperate times.
"GUWWAHHHHAAHHHHH! Hahhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhh..... Ha. Ha. Ha." Pain blossomed as the toxin further spread and ate. Survival would be impossible for the living, but for the undead an undying nature was pretty much the point. And, she could hear Diva's song, and it did little to abate any sense of impending doom.
"You know I've loved you truly since your birth; loved you through the night. How can you leave me, can't you see my tears? Listen while I say:"
No, the Sithspawn was going to fight! The Sithspawn was set to defend, but then her fucking body got blown up into inoperable sections."I'M NOT GOING! I'M NOT GOING! WAAAAIT! Wwwwuahhhiat."
"After you've gone and left me crying -after you've gone there's no denying. . . You'll feel blue, you'll feel sad You'll MISS the dearest pal you've ever had! There'll come a time, now don't forget it. There'll come a time, when you'll regret it."
She did. She did. She should have been smarter, should have never let a distraction lead to this pitiable state. She regretted this, but she was about to regret what she was about to do.
"Some day when you grow lonely your heart will break like mine and you'll want me only."
Kuroro tears her crushed hand from under Chloro's boot. And by tear off, this narrative meant she tore off most of the palm and some of the wrist, twists her arm into the stone in front of her face, and with so much force, it punctures the floor, digs in, and the Sithspawn tosses herself up and away with ridiculous, supernatural strength.
"After you've gone. . . After you've gone away!"
The melting part of her flesh cannot keep up with the shear momentum, and most of the flesh from the ribcage down is simply left behind, resulting in the upper torso of the once sugary sweet Pink Nightmare flinging itself all the way down into a bloody heap at the center of the T-intersection -and with a shriek that would fill anyone who had a soul with terror for the kind of pain this creature felt. Problem: nobody here had a soul, and nobody here gave a damn, except. . .
"After I'm gone, after we break up. After I'm gone you're gonna wake up. You will find that you were blind to let somebody come and change your mind."
"Shut up! I'm here! S-s-s-s-shut the Hell up cause ah-ah-ah-ahI'm here."
"Someday, blue, a mess, and downhearted -you'll long to be with me right back where you started. After I'm gone, after I'm gone away!"
"I'm devoted! I am! RrrrRRRRRRRRRR!"
The Chevalier's hand has regenerated to the point of bone and ligament, enabling Kuroro to dive it into her exposed and bubbling ribcage and rip out Tank #7 with a wet pop. She snarls in agony while gashing the tank, dripping fuel, and sparking it by striking it against the floor while tossing it down the hallway towards the group of three. It lights, then explodes way before it can even threaten Chloro with a heat wave, but it does effectively seal the passage. That should hold Eralam for about 2.3 seconds.
"I'm yours; I'm yours! Enough with your whining -put me down yourself if you're going to keep whining!"
"Oh?"
"Yes. So fucking help me."
"Oooooohhhrowroro."
Thus marks the end of this comical journey, for what happens next cannot even be beaten by super duper speed. Technically, a person here could speed his way through the rubble and check the issue there, but what he would see would be a bunch of the most disgusting type of love this universe could offer: a story of innards being dragged across the floor, leaving its thick black ichor to stain the stone. Nor did anyone want to see Diva snuggle her icy nose into Kuroro's inert and gasping form. The narrator was feeling enough nausea.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Iziz
Jul 24, 2013 9:33:23 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Jul 24, 2013 9:33:23 GMT -8
As Margot began to march past the now thoroughly befuddled Eralam, he tried to reach out to her. And then the music, the ghastly spectacle, the fire. It was too much. The mental blocks that had sealed off the last few minutes of his previous life, and the first month of his new one, began to collapse. He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes as the walls came tumbling down, and the past flooded forth.
A crowded street on Dressel, blown apart. The Agent had given the Shard her best, and he had been impressed.
The cafe by the spaceport, their first face to face meeting. The choice, recruitment or imprisonment.
The scene shifts to Corellia. Months of hard work pays off. A cult is born. It lives and breathes, makes life hell for all the right people. The Shard gives Chloro a mission, knowing that she might not come back. And then she vanishes from the face of the galaxy. Until...
Manaan. The first encounter with the twisted thing that is Kuroro. Eralam's initial confusion and curiosity. The waiter sacrificed for the sake of a test, to see if the killer nature still lurked beneath the saccharine surface.
Worst. Flight. EVER. Eralam had known that the Agent had worshiped him, her own personal god of destruction, but this new thing took that cautious worship and made it an obsession.
And now to Dac. The first meeting with Diva, and the brawl that destroyed half the city. Despite the presence of two superpowered demigods going at it, it is the pink demon that does the worst of the damage.
They escape. Eralam and Diva come to an agreement of sorts, though not easily. She agrees to use her nature for the benefit of his plan to ward off the entropy that comes with stagnation, and he agrees to give her a part of himself in return. Kuroro snatches the crystal, and they're forced to watch as Diva seemingly dies. The last thing shown is Kuroro tearing into the HRD body that Eralam had worn at the time, ripping out his eyes just as the energy in the crystal turned them all into atoms drifting through the otherwise empty void.
Waking up in a tank. The unfamiliar body. The explosion that ruined the underground lab, would have taken out Breehara if they hadn't managed to get ysalamiri in the room.
Learning to walk. Talk. Eat. Sleep. The myriad things that humans learned from infancy all had to be taught to a being that was older than civilization. They had less than a week. Organic lab techs were banned after a loss of control left several dead and many more maimed. Learning to deal with pain, anger, frustration, joy, happiness, boredom. So much, so fast. And then the week spent in a chemically induced coma, carefully building the walls that would keep the memories at bay.
And above all, the plan. A purpose for everything, and everything with a purpose. But this, this was too soon. He wasn't meant to know this yet. There would be consequences.
The fire is no danger to the group, and even if it was, Eralam would be powerless to stop it. He returned to his senses just as the wall of flames burst into being. It was another five seconds or so before his strength returned.
|
|
Gukky
Member
I remember... The Major.
Posts: 1,052
Affiliation: FOR SCIENCE!
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 24, 2013 18:23:57 GMT -8
Post by Gukky on Jul 24, 2013 18:23:57 GMT -8
A mind was a closed, black box. Who could know what happened in there? To the uninitiated, it was a jumble of squiggly grey stuff and unimaginatively compared to a… a… computer. Gustav had a little more experience in the field and when he realised it was a it was simply too much work to try to pry someone's brain casing open and that was a terribly inefficient way to do it, he had taken a different tack. He had tidied away his files, packed his bags and it had led him down the sequence of events that now culminated to this moment, on a bench, next to another scientist, in the learning experience called life. And fate had provided him him the tools to make an empirical study.Exhibit 1; a burnt Kuroro Exhibit 2; the burning Chloro Look into the space where the eyes were. They were the windows to the soul, the traitors who told anyone who cared to look what the happened in the black box. And therein Gustav had found an appalling and macabre fascination. "vWhy, I'm heir to vwatch a tragedy. Alas, it turns aut der show ist actually ein comedy." What a dissonant tune she spoke in a scene that would move anyone to pity, yet it perfectly resonated with the character of the suit-clad, bespectacled, musket-toting scientist. The agent has the firebreather in her palm and she spares her no mercy, none for herself either, because she has no mercy, no more than the scientist who sat and watched the show. He was able to watch Diva and Kuroro show a love that was clearly lacking in this space of the universe, yet they were the greatest dealers on hate in this show. So, what kind on man was Gustav-Kodaly Remiak to be able to see these things with his dispassionate observer's eyes? Quite simply, he was a man who could not resign him to switching off nor fully able to switch himself on to it all. He hadn't responded to the Major's quip, so carefully he selected the next phrases:::I'd talk to the director, if I were you…::If I were you...
|
|
Chloro
Member
Sparkle and glitter, gleam, glow - SHINE!
Posts: 1,083
Affiliation: Brushing, Flossing, Rinsing
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 24, 2013 22:52:40 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Jul 24, 2013 22:52:40 GMT -8
Nope, Dresden probably didn't want to. Besides, a girl needed to have some secrets. Instead of answering him, she gave him one of her wild grins and promptly tasted blood. Retracting and protecting her syringe hand, she reached up to a little damage assessment when Kuroro summoned the resolve to tear herself, literally, from under her and escape. Cursing, her other hand hunted for something else to lob at the Sithspawn, but Kuroro beat her to the draw. Chloro twisted away from the explosion, covering her face as she hit the ground.
She knew she wasn't dead, because the dead don't have to listen to the depressing last rites music. Slowly she stood, coughing and waving her hand to try and clear the haze and reacquire the Sithspawn. Then she doubled over and gave a wheezing hack. This was a bad time for her lungs to be telling her that she should have smoked filters. She spat blood. Oh dear. How did we get to this? She remembered the explosion, the broken monster, the alacrity of its hated features, twisting in pain... Ah. She had forgotten to wear her mask. Tenderly, she probed her face. Her ruptured sinuses screamed at her stupidity. But the token consolation was that her lungs were still fine. The blood from earlier was probably what she had snorted down when she had ducked for cover. Wasn't the first time it had happened and, hopefully, not the last either.
While her toothbrush scrubbed the metallic taste out of her mouth, she looked at the rubble that filled the corridor and she knew that she'd need Dresden to clear this obstruction. Blood trickling from her nose and from under her eyepatch, she saw a flattened Dresden. Concerned for his well-being, she kicked him, gently, in the floating ribs to she if he was still conscious.
Hey! Hey!? Eralam? Dresden? Kick Can you hear me? Stomp You need to clear this mess... Prod Also, she was a little deaf from the explosion. But you couldn't miss the message. You need to get up. You need to give me my revenge. You promised me.
|
|
The Major
Member
Also known as Sailor Titan
Posts: 5,959
Affiliation: Fallanassi
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 25, 2013 18:57:51 GMT -8
Post by The Major on Jul 25, 2013 18:57:51 GMT -8
Your allies falter, and that's what you do? Monsters. These were monsters wearing skin wrapping: jokes and gagreel of humanity playing pretend because it appears it's the right thing to do. She didn't like it. The more you see of Dresden and Chloro, the more you realize exactly why these two warped hedonists belonged together. They were soul mates, trading cruetly after cruetly in some twisted dance. She raises explosive, he raises slowing atoms to the point of freezing for the sake of causing a creature, a creature obviously controlled by a more evil force -like her komrades now sliced up and rotting- humiliation, then she sees his horrid showboating and matches with some Hellish poison designed to inflict as much flaming pain as possible before your demise. And the Fascists were the monsters here? They at least announced they hated you before firing at you; they screamed it with racial slurs so that you could gather your very best defense and meet them on a level field -beacuse that was beauty of domiance, of warfare. This wasn't warfare. This was the popping of bugs beacuse you believed in absolutely nothing, other than what that wicked excuse of a mind told you what to feel at a moment's notice. Very well, Bitch, it's time to return the favor.
Something sternly latches unto the straps that hold up Chloro's weapons, and pulls her violently nose to nose with the terrible visage of Margot pissed off to blackest depths of unmatched anger -and with so much force it could almost give the diva a run for her icy ass. The lovely burn of minty fresh breath seared the insides of the El-Tee's nose.
"Kick yuer enemies, kick yuer friends; if yue got so much hatred, then go put et tue use an' set some fooking charges on th' rubble an' blast et. Then, if yue're still feeling rowdy, stick a bottle of tha' mint up yuer arse an' shake et aboot: anything to clam yue th' fuck down. Hell, I'll kick et in higher if et 'elps, alrighty, an' even give yue a bright smile tue. *Margot inserts a period with that last sentence by shaking Chloro's harness just once* Double time et, Agent; th' longer we take, th' more tha purple one will heal."
Margot then steels the order, yes, the order, by pushing the Agent towards the stone pile up. Completely ignoring her like she was no more than a bug, Margot turns her back to the one eyed psycho and kneels down next to Dresden. A soot, gunpowder, and blood stained white leather glove reaches out to him, her eyes imploring him to stand, to be strong. Get up, Soldat. Get up. Her breath is gentle, and the fingers spread, ready to take.
And on the other side of that rubble.
A perfectly clean white gloved hand extends to a halfway point towards the doctor.
"Der vwonderful thingk about speaking in tropes ist dat nothing incriminating ist mentioned. Du bist gut, Gustav —already avware dat I am der director. Yet, zyou shtill are so boldt as to tease vwith primary school level irony. How interesting. Interesting enough to pose a question: vhat ist missingk from these beasts unt mein methods vwhich leave an important component lacking; something, how zyou say, not so nefarious. zYou hafe followedt me long enough, Doktor. Join me, not as ein pawn, but as ein collaborator. I hafe no needt for shadows vwhich stare beyond der mirror."
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Iziz
Jul 25, 2013 20:54:24 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Jul 25, 2013 20:54:24 GMT -8
The simple fact of the matter was that, kick or implore all they might, Eralam wouldn't be moving until he was damned well good and ready. The present was beginning to reassert itself, but all was not fucking well. Piece by piece by shattered piece, the Shard was busy putting his mind back together. It was like weaving together a basket made of shards of glass and concrete blocks and tissue paper, but all the pieces were fractals and nothing fit together quite right. His mind was flitting about at speeds that the human brain simply wasn't meant to cope with. That all the "hardware" had been thoroughly upgraded with the making of the body was irrelevant.
Find an anchor, find a solid point to latch onto. The former Shard's mind raced around the manor at the speed of thought. It rejected Chloro right off; familiar though she may be, using her as an anchor point would be like sticking his dick in a blender. The icy darkness of the manor's Queen repelled and attracted him in equal measure, but grasping onto her would have a price that simply wasn't worth it. Rejected. The two sharp, twisted minds of the Doctor and the Major, though he couldn't have named either, were labyrinthine abysses of plans and plots. Try to make sense of it all in his current state would take minutes, and what emergerged wouldn't be something that the galaxy could afford to have unleashed.
That left Margot. The crystal in her belly would have made a decent anchor point, but by itself it would have simply sucked his soul in and become the new vessel, leaving this body an empty shell. It was an enticing thought, to go back to being a Shard in full, but that wasn't what was meant to happen. The crystal wasn't his to take. The woman that held it might make an anchor. She was something solid, but as Eralam tried to grab hold, something in her soul rejected him. He reached out, the words unspoken, but hopefully not unheard.
<<I feel you [angerhatefearwhatisthis] there, but I can't hold on [driftingfloatingdrowningohgodhelpmakeitsolid]. Too hot [searingagonyhatred]. Why do you [hatefearreject] me inside, but reach for me on the out?>>
|
|
Gukky
Member
I remember... The Major.
Posts: 1,052
Affiliation: FOR SCIENCE!
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 26, 2013 17:46:36 GMT -8
Post by Gukky on Jul 26, 2013 17:46:36 GMT -8
The other doctor shrugged, a fluid motion, while his face crinkled into a self-deprecating smile. This was a dance, a ritual. It was an unusual dance, even for one such as the Major who was very good at the dancing the macabre. Yet, he could feel how those white gloved hands dug under his shoulder blade as the Major assumed the position of lead. She was a fast learner. Her bluntness was wonderful, a refreshing change in pace and he conceded this step to her. He was in no hurry, nor was he afraid or even nervous. He could afford to be generous, having already led the little steps from the moment they had first met to now. But this meant the fun was only beginning, not ending.
Yet, the ritual must be followed. Even machines had rituals that they followed - what would make higher creatures like themselves exempt? Gustav runs his hand through his widow's peak, his brain apparently causing a bit of an itching a it considered this perplexing question. What else could be expected of a man to be sudden propositioned by such an offer? What she might not have known was that her offer was the same as the one that he was about to propose to her. Instead, she had stolen it from him and then offered it to him.
::There's nothing wrong with them…::
Although the doctor had not accepted or declined the Major's offer, the fact that he was openly talking to her was his sign of an implicit agreement. The words were said slowly, each one getting special attention as it escaped his translator. It didn't betray the note of envy that his original voice gave when he gave his lofty assessment of Diva and Kuroro. Besides, he knew them both quite well, maybe not as much as the Major but certainly more than the average layman.
::There's just a little lack of purposefulness.:: That last word didn't translate particularly well. ::Which makes me doubt your purpose.::
The self-deprecating smile deepens.
|
|
Chloro
Member
Sparkle and glitter, gleam, glow - SHINE!
Posts: 1,083
Affiliation: Brushing, Flossing, Rinsing
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 28, 2013 8:15:28 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Jul 28, 2013 8:15:28 GMT -8
A shaken, not stirred Chloro kept her mouthful of teeth shut as the Lieutenant flexed the muscles of her rank. All that training on how to lead soldiers and this is how she was supposed to inspire loyalty? But her sardonic voice failed to make it out. Instead, she hung insolently, trying to pull Margot off balance and squared her jaw, defiantly staring back at her. She had beaten Kuroro. Alone. She never needed anyone telling her what she had to do or question her methods. Chloro had nothing to say or prove to the paratrooper who had rediscovered her heart. She'd be grateful to be rid of those kind of feelings - they were going to be death of her.
Pushing away from her embrace, she was far from pacified. In fact, her wounded pride was spurred her on. Her well developed sense of revenge made a note to return the favour as soon as it was convenient. She left Margot with Dresden - they deserved each other.
Now, to deal with real problems… crunch. She lifted her boot to find Kuroro's hand that she had earlier left behind. Having lost her own hands in an unfortunate accident, Chloro had developed an unnatural fascination for hands. Picking it up, she pegged it to the strap of her weapon's belt as a trophy and got to work, filled again with the wonder of those digits that acted with a mind of their own.
It was a tricky blast, but she had enough to tear a decent-sized hole through the rubble, without inviting a further collapse. She called behind her, eager to finish off the madness that awaited them.
"Everyone ready?"
|
|
The Major
Member
Also known as Sailor Titan
Posts: 5,959
Affiliation: Fallanassi
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 29, 2013 10:14:53 GMT -8
Post by The Major on Jul 29, 2013 10:14:53 GMT -8
So that's what it's all about. You put your hand out towards anyone, from the beast that pretends they are human to the humans that pretend they are beasts, and all of it runs at a funeral march's pace in vague yet thick arrows towards one conclusion: they want to know why. Ideals were just that, armies were just that, bullets were just that, titles were just that, morality was just that -all of it was show. Still, the ones forced to watch, or the ones that decide to watch want to know why. Why are you doing this? Why must you do this? Why do you want to do this? Kill me, but tell me why; use me, but tell me why; love me, but tell me why; hate me, but tell me why. Fools. The answer isn't what they are hoping for. Instead they get a mirror clouded by smoke. No, the answer they would get was the answer they wanted, deep in their selfish cores -so well hidden, so protected by metaphorical tanks and self propelled artillery positions -the tools of intelligence and cunning- that they had forgotten themselves.
Just a little bit more, Soldier. A little bit more and we get to go home.At first the kommando officer is hesitant at the laying figure's desire to move, but that would not be enough to daunt her. She wasn't here to give up. Suddenly, her hand clasps unto Dresden's arm, slowly pulling it and not enough to make it uncomfortable -but even if she was just human she could tell he was drifting in flotsam."Et matters not if I'm scared of yue; et matters not if tha' fear of th' unknown causes me t'react with hate. All I know is tha' if I was on th' floor, hangin' on th' edge aboot tue fade away, no matter how strong I became. . ."Margot sucks in the air."I'd pray to anyfink tha' would listen; yea, I would hope there was someone willing tue scoop me up an'elp me back into th' fight. If I lay there dying, I'd hope someone would watch over me while I gue. Et makes us human, I think -th' desire tue be loved by somefink, somehow, in th' end. Nonsense? Aye. Nonsense. Yue gods think we want tue be like this?"Do they think we want this?The explosion rips apart the rubble, clouding the hallway with thick smog and stinky ash. These tendrils of dirty air travel downwards to the opposite bench, making the air around the two doctors warble: sinister, lovely, beaming, happy, somber."Purpose ist ein matter of perspective, Doktor. Unt mein purpose?"A decade ago, the year known to all. September 19th of that year. Autumn on Allgemeine, trees rusty and leaves aflame. Breezes tear the weakest of them free, causing them to fall lazily to unto the courtyard of the Universitätsklinikum, school of molecular genetics. Peace is a concept, as more and more of the research groups were being dedicated to the coming war effort to spread the ideal of a thousand year reign of a human lead empire that would once again restore progress to the core of the galaxy upon the backs of every alien and xeno-sympathizer. It wasn't easy to keep up with all the studying to just barely maintain the 4.0 GPA needed to propagate the interview with Director Rappold. But once she was inside, it was already too late to stop her. A few quick illusions to make herself seem more desirable to the power hungry man, and a few compliments on his work, and he was essentially eating from her pocket. Documents are signed, and there it is, official as official could be on this planet: her name stenciled with the listed research team tasked to travel on a tour of the Inner Rim planets with a number of archeological teams before being scheduled to check the abandoned chateau discovered upon the surface of Onderon. It shouldn't take more than month. Excitement was rampant among the young students assigned as assistants to scientists, and already there was a lot of gossip over why geneticists were being invited to a dig site. The only way the director would approve that kind of expenditure was if they already suspected or confirmed something was indeed there. Would it require quick and secretive extraction? Who knows, because right now, the girl could care less about the coming trip she was now apart of.
She would have to run from the family. Goodness knows they would appreciate her sudden disappearance. Goodness knows she needed to escape the dark thoughts fermenting in her migraine prone head. Besides, who could balk at the opportunity to travel! Still, right now, it was the loneliness of this place that preoccupied her mind. This damned planet with all its hissing; she grew so tired of all the aggression.A ghost, be a ghost and be not seen, nor touched. Pass through the crowds filled with social anxiety, seeped in a cloak of this hated loneliness that dominated your life, and feel that angst. And so Riplian passes through masses unbeknownst to them, and begins to sing loudly, since no one would ever hear it. This she sings in her native tongue, but for the sake of simplicity, this thought bubble will be remembered in perfect Basic, as thoughts looking back so often did."I dreamed there was an angel who could hear me through the walls as I cried out in Latin, 'Hoc non omnino vita.' No, not a life at all. Help me out; out of this nightmare and I heard his cocky call. He said, 'Just give it time, Kid, I come to one and all.' He said, 'Give me that itch, please, that hand you can't control, and let me teach you how to handle all that sadness in your soul. Yea, we'll work your silver magic then aim it at a wall.' He said, 'This love might make you blind, Kid' I wouldn't mind at all."She gazes upon her hand, fresh, young, tender, not yet reeking of gunpowder, and crunches it into a fist while carefully slicing through the groups of chattering students."Is this living? Living with nothing but your hand? This is the bitch of living as someone you can't stand."Crap, violin practice was in 20 minutes. Run, run, run. A fifteen year old couldn't afford to drop appearances in the realm of young adults.Cloudy seat. Murky seat. Today. Same girl, warped into something so ugly on the inside to exaimine her fall could provide the stuff of a philosophical inquiry. "yJust ein bit longker, Doktor. Bear vwith me ein few moments more."Said the Major while standing with the air of someone who was definitely not expecting something pleasant, and turning towards the swirling clouds, marching, musket slung against the shoulder and bouncing with each heelstep.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Iziz
Jul 29, 2013 11:16:08 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2013 11:16:08 GMT -8
Close enough.
The base began to settle, not around the woman, but around the idea. The pieces fall together. Old and new memories, thoughts, feelings assimilated into one cohesive structure that made up the being known as Eralam. Except that name didn't quite fit anymore. The Eralam of old would have been baffled by this being before him. Only a fool would mistake the being for being truly human, but it had a grasp on the concept far better than Eralam the Whill ever did. The name Dresden had been adopted as a false identity. Now it was the only name that fit.
Acceptance of this fact was the top cap, the final piece that would hold everything together. Eralam had fallen. It was Dresden that would arise.
There was no fuss, no massive disturbance in the Force. Just a man sitting up and shaking his head, trying to clear the last of the cobwebs from his brain. The burning power was still there, of that there was no doubt. He was still on a timer. And there was still a mission to be done. But at least he wasn't falling to pieces.
"Sorry about that. Now, where were we?"
And yes, he desperately hoped that they would be polite enough to ignore that little incident.
|
|
Chloro
Member
Sparkle and glitter, gleam, glow - SHINE!
Posts: 1,083
Affiliation: Brushing, Flossing, Rinsing
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 29, 2013 20:07:38 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Jul 29, 2013 20:07:38 GMT -8
Flick! Click!
KA-CHOOO-BOOOOOOOOOM!
She didn't need her ears to tell her that her set-up had worked like a charm. Chloro could feel that deep vibration that made her knees buckle as the first charge triggered the second, a rubble clearing charge, demolishing the chunks into gravel and leaving a neat hole for them to walk through. Kuroro had the power, but had no finesse for a'making things a'splode. Not only had she opened the gate, but likely those on the otherside would be floored and choking on dust.
Why? Because she could.
The hands go inside the coat and pulled out a flash-bang. She had some great, some small and she loved them all. It was the only love she needed, the thunder that shook the heavens, the fire that ate the survivors. Toss it into the breach. It was a pure thing - shrapnel that cut skin, regardless of what you thought of yourself, explosions that shook the brains out of your ears, for no other reason than it could.
Because the ability to destroy was the only thing that mattered.
It was great that her allies were behind her, because the first salvo was going to hurt everything. Maybe even herself. She snapped the gas mask shut and unslung her LAW. Now...
'Atta girl
|
|
Gukky
Member
I remember... The Major.
Posts: 1,052
Affiliation: FOR SCIENCE!
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 30, 2013 22:52:14 GMT -8
Post by Gukky on Jul 30, 2013 22:52:14 GMT -8
The explosion rocked the corridor. Gustav winced, using both hands to prevent himself from falling off the bench. He was going to politely insist that the Major tell and sate his curiosity, but he felt it was prudent to give the moment requested. Watching the Major flounce away, he took the gap to steady himself and wipe his palms on his trousers. All the planning in the world wouldn't mean a thing if he was too on edge to appreciate it. For all his snide remarks about the show, the third act had him filled with anticipation and from the high ground, he could see the threads that tied the intrepid trio to Major, Diva and himself. Now it was time to test the inevitable outcomes.
::As soon she gives it to us, kill her.::
The conclusion didn't leave any room for loose ends. And Gukky was nothing if meticulous about cleaning up behind him. It was much easier to keep secrets when there were less people that could share them. He stood and stretched, feeling slightly lethargic from all the waiting. He wanted nothing more than to simply watch, but if he wanted to do so, he needed to get closer. Chiding himself about about the inherent laziness of the mind, he propelled himself after the Major, discretely.
|
|
The Major
Member
Also known as Sailor Titan
Posts: 5,959
Affiliation: Fallanassi
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Iziz
Jul 31, 2013 12:40:47 GMT -8
Post by The Major on Jul 31, 2013 12:40:47 GMT -8
Situation I is underway.
Funny thing about being a Fallanassi: there is nothing funny about being lord over reality bending. However, it was helpful, very helpful, if you were a scientist and could make people see things or not see things. See, that was the ticket in this next move. Making people not see while making them see. This was a cakewalk, and once it was started, there was nothing any being in this universe could do until the caster decided to embrace reality once more. Actually, this was a fabrication. You could blow up the entire planet, but that was gambling that the Major was on the planet, not to mention killing every innocent civilian on Onderon. Besides, she wasn't the force of evil here. That title belonged to the devil currently sitting with a big smile upon her, its, face.
The morbid geneticist almost felt for Gustav. Almost was the operative word here. The Major was always a rather vengeful type; you could say she was the most vengeful person currently living within this universe, though that trophy traded hands often. Did he really think he could continue his little game without being shoved into the role of another piece to manipulate? What insolence! Audacity was a desirable trait, and the good doctor had it in spades, but he must remember: those who play with monsters are doomed to become one. No, there was a much more simplistic set of ideas at test here -one proven many times, but with different variables, different means. . .
Do not fuck with the Major. She'll like it. And once she likes it, she will fuck you.
". . ."*Smirk*
The flashbang explodes wonderfully and with all the majestic qualities Chloro seems so keen on attaching to a rather basic device. Oddity: as the grenade explodes the light cleanly pierces the body of the Fallanassi. Readers, you knew exactly what was coming next, didn't you? The Major's body, her suit, her hair, even the musket, breaks apart to the very atoms -except those wisp away as well, revealing the woman sitting the corner bench to be nothing more than an Immersed Doppelganger. But why do such a thing?
For the science of impossible solutions, and the study of interactions between humans, monsters, lesser gods, and self styled manifestations of good and evil. Every single thing housed inside this manor, up to this point, has attacked the heroes, which no doubt had their hormones a-flowing with a rage that would make a roaring waterfall jealous. How does it look as Chloro opens a busted path that the Pink Nightmare, Subject 194, closed, only to see a gangly and rather creepy looking doctor-type with glowing glasses and twisted smile? To make matters better in a place with man made self propelled guns, Gustav's aide, if scanned with the Force, would prove that Flo was of similar construction to Kuroro. How does a meager human survive in this manor unless he has a hand in the business. He had at least to have enough information to make him worth interrogating. And finally, to make the situation all the more damnable the aide was equipped like a one-woman army. Sometimes the Major's sense of irony made her feel so warm and special inside -happy right where her uterus lays. However this interaction played out, it would provide a wealth of data on each of the five people now standing face to face.
Meanwhile, Margot clears the blast zone and prepares to engage these two new people. Friends? Foes? More beasts to hold them back? Another trick, maybe? Her expanded sense of the area flexes and attempts to discern the contradictory riddles playing before her StG's iron sights.
". . . Wh'th' fuck is this egghead?"
|
|