ZOMBIE FORUMS

It's a stinking, shambling corpse grotesquely parodying life.
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 15, 2003 1:25 am 
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-= Cue Themes: "Excel Saga - Pedro's Lamente" =-

Darkness.

Thick consuming darkness, the kind reserved for extinguished mortal lives. A dark void of empty emotion and infinitely taciturn nothing. A darkness beyond what children most feared in the night, a loneliness far more terrifying than the worst fear shared by torn lovers, and a silence that steals a voice before it can ever crack upon dry lips. A silence split only by the never ending thoughts and screams racing through the mind of anyone unfortunate enough to be imprisoned within its expanse.

Never ending, because here, all you had was time.

Time. How much time had passed? How long had he been here, locked within this pitch black realm? Kept from the peaceful contentment of Heaven, and the slow excruciating agony of Hell? Perhaps this <i>was</i> his Hell, he mused. And why not? Spending a life alone, always trying to help those that were within his power to save, regardless of means, forever expecting some greater reward at the end. But he had done evil things to save innocent lives, and he hadn't the time to atone for his sins before his death.

<i>So that's it, then. Hell,</i> he accepted. <i>Far worse than being torn apart for all eternity, I am to exist in this void until everything becomes nothing.</i>

He closed his eyes, or at least thought he did. In this emptiness, one couldn't be too sure. He thought he could move his arms and legs, but if they were truly there to do so then they passed right through each other. Unable to find a single shred of solid matter to grasp. He felt no temperature, neither hot nor cold, and no senses worked save his sense of himself... and even that was fading.

His mind raced back to the battle raging in the living world. Was it over? Had his friends, the Expatriates... had they defeated his dark brother? Or had Fold claimed their lives as well? Were they now existing in this Hell along side him, unable to turn their head and show that he was not alone, thinking the very same things he was now?

Did it really matter at all? He had known before he left that world that they were all merely characters. He had, in fact, been instrumental in spreading the message to the rest of the world. The world that spread out literally as text across pages and magically across the minds of the Watchers. Held in place so long as their hunger for fantasy and need for escapism lasted. So long as their fictionally ideal world held their interest. So what did it matter if they won or lost? They would simply fade from existence when the story ended, regardless of outcome, so who cared?

His mind curled for a second, backpeddling and grasping at already fragmented thoughts here and there. Something didn't sit right. He pulled back pieces of internal dialogue, rethinking them, trying to understand what wasn't making sense. The battle, the message, the loss of self, characters in a story, losing interest, fading from existence.

His mind snapped immediately at this, locking down on these thoughts as a clear perception dawned upon him. When the story ended, the characters would fade away to nothing. No bodies, no souls, no thoughts. Nothing. So then, if he was dead, and his part in the story had ended, then why was he still here? Why the lingering consciousness locked in the massive expanse of the void?

This was the connection. He knew it. For some reason or another, his story was not over. That could be the only explaination as to why his thoughts still lingered.

-= Cue Theme - .hack//SIGN - Key of the Twilight =-

And as he thought this, BiShouNenKaMi became aware that his right hand was gripping something. A rock... no, larger. A boulder. Something. Instantly he felt the pull of gravity return to him, wash over him, pulling him down, and it dawned on him that he was dangling in free space by whatever was in his right hand.

No, not in. As he tilted his head up, a reddish light faded into being above him. Shaking off the shock that he actually was aware of his physical self once more, he noticed that it was not something held in his hand, but something his hand held onto.

A jagged edge of ruin. Behind him and below, the void. But here, right beyond the tips of his fingers, lie ground. Solid ground.

Sensation came rushing back to him then. A faint wind licked at his fingers, emulating the icy hand of death trying to pry his fingers free. He was cold. He was tired. Yet he would not give up.

BiShouNenKaMi reached up his left arm and placed his hand a narrow ways away from his right. Then slowly, with a strength not felt since a time unknown, he pulled himself up and onto the rocky landscape of his salvation.

As he lie on his back, he felt the wind once more, now caressing more than his fingers. It was this wind that gave him the realization that he was completely naked. He didn't care, though. He was alive.

He had flowed through the Nothing, trapped without hope in the void, and by realizing that he was still thinking, had managed to flow right into the edge of reality. <i>Cogito ergo sum</i>, he thought with a sense of irony. <i>I think, therefore I am.</i>

He rolled his head to the right. From where he had crawled, all that existed did not. An intense nothing spilled on into eternity. He involuntarily shuddered as he thought about how he had felt out there, then was filled with the glowing warmth of triumph as his fingers sifted through the sand and dirt beneath him, proving to him his existence. A bold smirk toyed at his lips as he slowly blinked his eyes and looked up at the sky.

The deep crimson sea of the cloudless heavens that met him there brought no comfort to his tired bones. The defined smile that was born of his victory over the void now cracked and fell from his lips. Seeking something solid to console his mind and calm his fears, he tilted his head to the left.

Far off in the distance, beyond the ruins of a now broken domain, BiShou saw the castle, rising above the shattered remnants of the world he once called home. It's jutting spires and foreboding walls split the skyline like so many of the now fallen and dormant monuments that littered this desolate land once had. It stood there, a beacon of chaotic order in this shattered husk of reality.

BiShouNenKaMi closed his eyes and righted his head, and with a voice not spoken since that cold fateful night in the diner, when he had last drew breath, he muttered, "No... my story is <i>far</i> from over."

-BiShouNenKaMi

Playtime over? No no no... Let the games begin. *wicked smirk* That's right, baby... guess who's back?


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PostPosted: Fri Oct 31, 2003 12:45 am 
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He leaps and runs through the streets of the broken city, fleet and efficient in his movement, powerful and dtermined. All remaining doubt has been burnt to ashes, and swept away in a torrent of deadly, hungry purpose.

He stops at an intersection, panting with exertion and excitement, looking at a small spatter of fresh blood. he leans down, runs his fingertips through the small splash, sniffs it, and grins even more. smells like Fear.

He stands again, closing his eyes and letting the ember in his mind guide him. His attention is drawn slightly to his left, still towards the great spire. He grins even wider, and his evolutionarily enhanced muscles once again spring him forward, but slightly to the right. he's moving too slow. i can flank him.

His travel is reduced in speed, increased in stealth, but still quick. He slips through shadows, pads through and over and under rubble, stepping lightly, his senses keening out every iota they can for kitsune's presence, while he exerts as much effort as he can spare to conceal his own.

Then, he stops suddenly, going very still at the terrible tolling of a bell that at once jars and harmonizes with the terrible, beautiful song of Dischord playing in his mind. He growls softly as the bell continues to toll, and continues his movement, using it's cacophonous noise as cover to sacrifice a little stealth for more speed.

Then he catches a glimpse of blonde hair through the ruins, and he crouches low, concentrating all his efforts on keeping himself and his power hidden for now. Slowly, he stalks forward like some large predator though a grassy veldt, picking his footsteps, never taking his eyes off his prey.

----------------------------------------

"God, what IS that racket?" Kitsune gripes, still healing his body, only flesh wounds and a few fractures to go. "be silent, Boy." Orochi growls, his commanding tone sounding strange through kit's adolescent vocal chords.

As the tolling continues, Orochi stops, looking around, straining his ears and eyes as his eyes dart around.

"What is it?" Kit asks warily.

"Quiet." Orochi orders again. "i thought i heard something."

A voice comes from behind them, full of malice and demented glee. "THaT WaS Me."

Orochi turns quickly, raising Kit's hands, and the power that they share, in time to stop the boy's body from being transformed into a sticky, bloody mist. The blow from Mad's guitar still sends them hurtling into a nearby department store, crashing through the glass doors and into a stack of blenders, sending the boxes flying in a great mess. The skin on the boy's forarms is badly singed, and he has a few cuts from the glass doors, but otherwise, he is relativbely unscathed.

Adric the Mad strides into the store, broken glass crunching under hi bare feet, a purposeful glare fixed on kitsune as the boy fumbles out of the wreckage. The tow of them stop, and look outside, as the tolling echoes and mixes with a phenomenonal shrieking howl of rage, the heavens turn to a terrible murky dark colour, freeze, and shatter like crystal, revealing a tumbling, boiling red ocean of emotion emblazoned across all that is left of creation.

Mad turns from the sky, grinning even more. "Look," he smirks at Kitsune. "They're playing my song."

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PostPosted: Wed Nov 12, 2003 7:47 pm 
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Orochi picked up the scuttle of rocks on paved road a few seconds before, and overpowered Kit’s mind, lifting his hands up and blocking the guitar swing in a flash of bright light. Dischord’s blow threw Orochi yards away. Slowly, the blond-haired man got up from where he had crashed, crashing bells mirroring the fractures within his own mind.

The sun shone in Kitsune’s eyes, and he squinted up at the silhouette of the chaosbard. Adric grinned. “Listen,” he said. “They’re playing my song.”

And they always have been, haven’t they? The fractured song of chaos, the seething rage you can feel underneath his skin, the horribly twisted grin. It’s all been there. You just never noticed. Because I told you not to. Because if you had, I wouldn’t be writing you.

Mad swung the guitar, a blow that would have shattered Kitsune’s chest if Kitsune were still there. Orochi flipped above the blow, lighting upon a streetlamp and crouching in wait. Mad punched the lamppost, breaking the metal pole in half. Orochi jumped and kicked off the wall over top of Mad, landing on his feet.

“This is too hard,” he whispered. “It’s not supposed to work like this.”

You’re right. It’s not supposed to be like this. Because you’re too powerful for something as bloody as this. I thought . . . you are a character created to ease the discomforts of your creator. Where I cannot fight back, you can win against impossible odds. Where I am paralyzed by my disgust with myself, your self-hatred drives you to act. My human limitations were meant to be superseded by your powers of reality.

So it goes. Mad strikes, whether with his fists, his hands, or Dischord’s mad bursts of power and noise. Kitsune’s body dodges each blow. Kitsune, in a rare moment of observation, realizes his body is repairing itself with each passing second without his knowledge. How can it do that? His powers had been all screwy since that moment, back in the Diner. Sometimes working, sometimes not, with no rhyme or reason behind them.

Or was there?

Now you see the truth. I tried, Kitsune, God knows I tried to make you realistic. But my own need for violence and blood drove me back to your powers again and again. I wanted someone who I could escape to. I wanted a chance to exorcise my inner demons. But you became more than just a vessel for my own feelings—my understanding of writing and its effects grew and matured, and I realized it wasn’t fair to everyone else or to you to manipulate the story like that.

Orochi grimaced. “I can’t keep this up forever,” he said. A note from Dischord sent rubble spewing around him, throwing him backwards. A chunk of masonry glanced off his forehead, sending blood trickling down his face. Orochi stumbled. Mad swung upwards, catching Orochi under the chin and throwing him into the air. Orochi recovered, landing on all fours and springing to his feet. He coughed.

Mad tore into Kitsune’s chest, grinning a twisted, sadistic smile. It took all of Orochi’s concentration to heal himself enough before each blow to keep the wounds from being fatal. Not a single opening for him to use the powers churning inside. He could manipulate reality itself! He was the ultimate being! It was what he was created for! For God’s sake this should’ve been child’s play!

Powers that are unlimited lead to narrative dead ends. It gets harder and harder to top each event with another one and still keep up tension when you know the character can win at the drop of a hat. I enjoyed writing you, Kitsune. But it’s a hassle, when I know I can do so much better. Writing you isn’t fun anymore.

Mad paused to catch a breath, and with a crash and a burst of light the chaosbard was thrown into the air. Orochi snarled, eyes glowing.

“Nothing more than a glorified punch,” he said. “I can do better than this.” Kitsune nodded.

Mad came crashing down out of the air, but when he landed, Orochi had vanished. “Come on, boy!” Mad laughed. “Stop running!” He straightened.

“Already have,” Orochi said, slamming his fist into Mad’s back and knocking the man to the ground. Mad kicked out immediately, but his foot met air. One moment later and the sound of air rushing in to fill a gap in space exploded in his ears. Mad jumped out of the way in time to dodge Orochi’s body slam. And then Orochi was gone again. Mad’s eyes darted around. Orochi reappeared in front of him, just enough space between them to kick off the ground and into Mad’s chest, propelling both of them back into the side of a building.

Kitsune kicked off Mad’s stomach, vanishing as he did so. He reappeared at Mad’s side, fist swinging. Mad caught Kit on the chin and sent the boy ricocheting back into a wall.

Dammit, I thought I could win, Kitsune thought.

Dammit, I thought I could do this. It’s hard to let go. Even when you know what will happen, you think there might be hope. People get attached.

I hope it doesn’t hurt too badly.


“CHaoS iS iNFiNiTeLY aDaPTaBLe, KiT,” Mad said. “RuNNiNG FRoM CHaNGe iS LiKe RuNNiNG FRoM NaTuRe iTSeLF.”

Kit staggered out of the hole, coughing. Mad strummed Dischord, and the building came alive, gut-punching Kitsune into the air.

For a few light-headed moments, Kitsune’s body floated in air, weightless, pinned in the rays of the sun.

Was I created only to die? Kitsune thought. The rising tides of emotion I’ve been riding since the beginning of this . . . this story, I guess . . . won’t I be dignified with even a bit of resolution? I killed Orochi, only to have him reappear inside my mind to taunt me further. I reconciled with MiaoMing only to have Fold rip her away from me so Mad can mock me for losing her. There has to be something I’m missing. Mad’s wasting me here; I’ll die if I can’t come up with something.

Gravity began creeping into Kitsune’s body again, dragging him down.

Was I brought back just to die so soon? Orochi thought. Words are words are words, I know; every moment spent reading them is a resurrection of sorts. Letters shape ideas, and ideas never die, they only wait for someone to rediscover them. But I’ll still die when the story is done. The things Kitsune has done . . . he isn’t like these others. His Watcher created him to be a demigod, if not a god. In theory, his powers are limitless. And I’m only a human being using them to my own advantage. I’m used to fistfights, so that’s how I fight, but that’s not going to work this time.

The myth of Daedalus springs to my mind, unbidden, and I remember how, straining to reach the sun, he fell to his death as his wings melted off. Have I reached too far with you? I don’t know. I think I have.

Kitsune crashed to the ground, with a wet crack and a thud. His head smacked against the hard concrete. Kitsune’s vision swam. He blinked. He couldn’t feel his chest. Orochi shook his head to clear it. Kitsune stared at the twisted metal spike driven through his abdomen. Pinned at the top was a wriggling mass of coiled mechanical tentacles. “The cables,” Kitsune coughed. Orochi said something, but the words were fuzzy and unintelligible. Blood pooled around Kitsune’s body. Kitsune squinted through hazy eyes at the red-haired spectre of death slowly making its way towards him. He squirmed on the spike. “Can’t end like this,” he said.

I’m not writing your fate. It could end in the next few moments you remain on that spike. It might not. Quantum uncertainty says there’s a world where I write that “Kitsune dies” and a world where I don’t. I’m hoping this gets written in both worlds, though. Because you need to see it. You need to see that your Watcher is sorry for what he’s put you through, and that he’s trying to atone for it. If you survive, I’ll do everything I can within the constraints of the story to give you a future with MiaoMing. I’m putting this letter where you’ll see it if you survive. If you don’t find it, well, it never existed.

Goodbye.


Orochi gasped for a breath. He looked up into the sky, where the hot, dry sun baked the blood around him into dirt. “Have . . . to . . . change . . .” he said. And he closed his eyes.

Kitsune remembered diving through his body once before, in an attempt to end his life. Now he was doing the same thing but trying to save it. Orochi’s words rang in his ears: “Have to change.” He was thinking with his fists instead of his head. He could shape reality any way he wished into anything he wished.

He let out a groan. The strength of his powers rested on his Watchers’ approval. He needed . . . he needed to pray.

Watcher . . . God . . . whatever you are . . . please, let me survive. Show me what I have to do. Let me use my powers. Please.

I’ll try to save you.

The prayer ended, Kitsune braced his arms against the spike, and pushed up. Something cracked in his back, and he collapsed screaming, limp as jelly. The red-haired chaosbard was growing clearer as he walked closer.

"aLL THaT PoWeR, aLL THaT PoTeNTiaL...aND THiS iS WHeRe iT eNDS?" Mad sighed as he walked closer, a note of disappointment ringing in his voce, and Dischord's mirrored song. "i GueSS THe FiGMeNT WaS RiGHT...You aRe Weak." Adric the Mad grinned as he walked towards the struggling boy, and all emotion drained from his face, giving a stony expression. He spoke softly as he neared his foe, preparing to end it. "I'd kill you a thousand times over for her...that's my strength."

Orochi groaned. Kitsune’s foolhardy attempt to lift himself off the spike probably did more damage than help. He blinked past the pain, glimpsing the shine of metal in the sun. “Adric’s madness, Mouazz’s music, and Sean’s runes. Is that all it is?” he said. “I thought . . . I’d go out better than this.” He concentrated.

Adric the Mad was within a few feet of Kitsune’s body when the body vanished. Kitsune fell to the ground, back the way Mad had come.

“Do it, son,” Orochi said, and then Kitsune collapsed.

Mad spun on his toes, rage and Dischord straining his muscles to the edge as his desperate need to destroy his foe, his prey consumed all other thought. He lunged at the prone figure, the guitar howled and glowed so brightly, it left a dark green afterimage on the eyes as it swept towards the blonde youth.

Kitsune rolled over onto his back, coughing. He thought he knew what to do . . .

White light began to pool behind his eyes. Kitsune’s pupils dilated. He gasped. The blond-haired teen reached out and touched the source of all reality. Time stopped for him.

Wait a second. Maybe I can save you. Maybe—

And then it all went black.

Naughty naughty, Todd. It’s out of your hands now. I’m in control.

-Fold


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PostPosted: Thu Nov 13, 2003 3:37 am 
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OOC: Minor backtracking. Will coincide. Fear not, kiddies. /OOC

-= Cue Theme: The Matrix Revolutions - 16 - Navras =-

Fold lifted himself from the floor and shook his head. A feral growl began deep within him as he bared his teeth.

"I don't know what the hell just happened... but I know you had something to do with it, <i>Watcher</i> of mine. Rest assured, you will be dealt with, along with your other 'friends'. But first..."

Fold turned and faced the door Ezelek had previously fled through. He cracked his knuckles and started toward it slowly, then broke into a run.

"I'm coming for you, child! Have you mastered my abilities yet? Because you'll need everything you can muster to stop me!!"

Around corners and through halls, Fold ran ever faster, homing in on the pendant like a falling stone finds the earth. Far ahead, he could scarcely make out the sounds of Ezelek's rushed escape.

"You know that I'll catch you, boy. I created this castle, I know it's every stone..." He stopped, placing his hand on the wall and closing his eyes.

"The walls speak to me. The stones tell me where you turn. The mortar reveals your every action. Oh yes, child... this castle speaks to me." He laughed, turning his head to the floor and drawing himself up. "And it listens to me, too..."

Focusing, Fold pushed his hand into the wall ever so slightly. Deep within the castle, a great destructive sound erupted as the walls along the self proclaimed kings of thieves' escape began to cryumble and seal him in.

Fold pulled his hand back and looked at it. Covered in scrapes and blood, he shook it off and resumed down the hall at a slower pace.

"It seems that without my pendant, my actions take more effort and yield more pain. No matter... the goal was reached. Tell me, young one... if you're still alive, that is... did you really think you could walk out of this alive? Wait... don't tell me yet... I wouldn't want you to waste your last breath on something I so frivolous. Especially when I want to SEE your face as you die."

-Fold

OOC: Timeline clarification: This takes place during the BiShou post, which took place during the Mad post. Ez should post next, which will take place during most of the Kit post. Then the tie in, children. /OOC


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PostPosted: Sat Dec 13, 2003 6:23 am 
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OOC: *Cough* Just reminding people. This RP is not dead. (and noone dare to come up with that Saddam Hussein propaganda guy) Ez is just having some problems as his post got deleted twice. It will come. Yes, am just as impatient as you.

But once the action is here... let's make sure we're ready to guarantee a climax, and not a fizzle.

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PostPosted: Sat Dec 13, 2003 6:27 pm 
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-= Cue Up: Shinichiro Miki - Believe in Heaven =-

Heavy footsteps pounded down the twisted corridors of the castle, echoing throughout it's grand halls and dusty chambers. Faster and faster, a figure ran, moving down random turns, doubling back, racing as if Hell itself was on his heels... And in a sense, it was. His mind raced, only a small portion of it paying attention to his path, navigating through the maze-like castle, seeking the entrance at the end; The rest was concentrating on the pendant which hung from a cord around his neck, glinting slightly in the minor amount of light which filtered through the dark crevices of this dank place. In fact, it seemed to be getting even darker and more menacing, although Ezelek was sure that he was following the correct route to the entrance.

Eyes widening in slight suprise, he brought his foot up, kicking off the dead end which he'd come to, launching his wiry frame into a somersault designed to halt his momentum, but his feet slipped out from underneath him as he hit the ground, ending up with him falling onto his ass, wincing. Clambering to his feet, he scowled at the wall, gloves coming off his hands, fingertips searching across the stone surface, searching for a hidden trip, or switch. Nothing... It was a real dead end, but it didn't make any sense. In his head, he could see the castle, see the corridors and pathways that he had taken to get from the entrance to the hall where Fold had been waiting for him, and he bit down on his lip as he pondered, blood trickling down his chin. True, he had taken some liberties when constructing a full map in his mind, but the architecture and general structure of the place had given him some clues; And the meeting with Fold had given him some view into the inner-workings of the power at play here... Then how...?

"Fold..." He muttered under his breath, brows knitted together. "It seems that taking away your claws hasn't completely rendered you helpless, has it? Well, I guess there's no choice... The only way out of here looks like it'll be..." He turned from looking at the blank wall, and pointed down the corridor, to where Fold stood, arms crossed over his bare chest, rage barely masked playing across his face. "Straight through you." He smiled, his thumb coming up so his hand was imitating the shape of a gun, which he "shot" Fold with, a small "kerbam" escaping his lips.

"Give it back..." The words came forced out from Fold's lips, anger and hatred dripping from them. "And I won't make your death... too painful." His arms unfolded, and his hands became fists at his sides, reflexively opening and closing. Ezelek just smiled, and came towards Fold, his guard down. Fold's right hand darted out faster than any human could possibly move, but the Master Thief was already sliding around it, bringing his knee up into the gut of his opponent. Darting back, he smiled, fingering the pendant.

"Just one second..." He laughed. "It seems that's the best I can make it do for now, not really grand compared to what you've done so far." A smirk came to his face, widening as he talked. "But for one second... You can't read me. Is it going to be enough? I'm excited... Let's begin."

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<i>"He knew that he could go to Narnia or Oz or Cimmeria or New York if he just said the right thing or rubbed the right magic charm, but it just never happened." -- Neil Gaiman </i>


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PostPosted: Sun Dec 14, 2003 7:53 pm 
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"But for one second... You can't read me. Is it going to be enough? I'm excited... Let's begin."

-= Cue Theme: The Transplants - Diamonds and Guns =-

In an instant, the thief threw himself at Fold, hailing down a flurry of blows. For a moment he appeared to not be making any progress, but then Fold began to stumble back under the onslaught. Blow by blow, Fold was being forced back.

"You can't be doing this!!" His enraged voice came as Fold threw up his hands to block each blow, a second too late. "You're a common THIEF!!"

"There's nothing common about me, Puppetmaster!" Ez brought his knee up into Fold's unprotected gut, then followed up with by kicking him back into the wall. "Or hadn't you noticed?"

The great destroyer wiped at the blood on his lips as he picked himself up. "Oh, I've noticed. And I've noticed one thing more..." He smirked, then dove at Ez, lashing out with all his fury.

Left. Right. Another right. Ezelek stepped around each blow effortlessly. A playful smirk danced at his lips with each successful dodge. "Oh? And what's that?" He asked, his words tainted with amusement.

"You... have been... abandoned." Fold spoke between blows. He wasn't managing to hit Ezelek, but with each attempt, he was getting closer. He was working faster, giving his mind to the random poetry of the battle. He faked to the left and then threw a punch straight for the young man's face.

Ezelek cought the fist, and tilted his head to the side to look past, to the man beyond. There he saw a grin he hadn't expected. "What do you mean, 'abandoned'?"

Fold drew his hand back from Ezelek's grip and tried an unsuccessful backhand. "Just what it sounds like. You've been abandoned. You Watcher... has left you to me." He turned, bringing a roundhouse kick within inches of Ez's side.

"Why do I not believe you?"

"Because you're stubborn and foolish?" Fold dropped low and brought his leg up sharp into the young thief's chest, managing to just barely connect before Ezelek leapt back. "It's true..." Fold stood up, smirking. "I've given your Watcher long enough to plot out your escape. Enough time to allow for you to retaliate... and all he left you with was a one second margin."

"Bullshit. I control myself, not some Watcher. I have only myself to congratulate when I defeat you."

"No, you have only yourself to <i>blame</i> when you fail. Face it, kid. Your one second margin isn't enough to win..." Fold sprung forth again, sweeping low and coming up with an uppercut to Ez's jaw.

No longer dancing around swings, Ez began to trade blows with Fold. A sharp left to Fold's ribs was met with a painful headbutt. Ezelek returned the favor with a headbutt of his own, into Fold's face. As blood began to trickle from Fold's shattered nose, he forced the thief back with a doublefist punch to the collar.

"I've noticed something about you, too, Fold. You seem to be all talk."

As Ezelek laughed, Fold grinned and cracked his knuckles, dropping low once more. "And I've noticed something else about you, as well, dear thief."

"And what's that, Foldykins?"

Fold smiled and opened his palms. "You dodge well... but you can't guard for shit."
-= Cue Theme: Matantei Loki RAGNAROK - 15 - The Presence of the Enemy =-

The pendant sparkled in Fold's hand as he closed it once more.

Ezelek's eyes went wide. "How'd you..."

"You need to pay better attention. Speaking of which..." Fold stood and nodded as the thief went to take a step back... right into the blade.

From behind Ezelek, she stood. As she forced the blade of the sword through the front of the man's chest, he slumped to his knees and she could see Fold. He nodded to her and she bowed, exiting the room.

Ezelek coughed blood, staring at the folded steel that had seemingly grown from his chest. Dropping to hold himself up with one hand, he tried to force it back with the other. The pain was almost too much, but he managed to look up at Fold.

"You... cheated..." He coughed and dropped his head low.

Fold reached down and tilted Ezelek's head back to look into his eyes. "Villain." He dropped the dying man's head.

Ezelek could feel the blood filling his lungs. It wasn't meant to end this way. He wasn't meant to lose. Not now. Not when he was so close.

Fold stood back, looking at the light shining through the pendant. He smirked and fastened it around his neck. "You seem to have grown attached to my pendant, young thief. Well, fear not, for I have decided your fate, and you shall never be without it again..." He raised his hands, open palms facing Ezelek, who had now fallen back and was propped up by the sword impaling his chest.

A light grew from Fold's hands as Ezelek began to scream. A conduit of power began to appear as Fold started to draw off what power Ez had left. Yet Fold did not stop there. The energy streaming between the two grew dark and red as the very life and essence of Ezelek began to make it's way through Fold into the pendant.

Ezelek continued to scream as his flesh began to burn and peel under unseen flames. Slowly, pieces of flesh began to disolve and swirl into the conduit. Muscle began to show, and then bone, all which withered and disolved into Fold.

At last the screaming ceased and the light dimmed. Fold wiped his hands and lifted the pendant to his eye. "You shall be within it."

"And now..." Fold turned and looked up to where he knew, deep in another portion of the castle, a lone girl crouched, screaming in unending torment. His face contorted in anger and his fist slammed into the wall. "Everyone will suffer."

-Fold

I'm far from finished...


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PostPosted: Sun Dec 14, 2003 7:55 pm 
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-= Cue Theme: Eminem - Lose Yourself (Instrumental) =-

A sharp metallic clink shattered the silence of the deserted parking lot like gunfire. The smell of ripe fluid filled the air, rushing memories to the surface. A sudden explosion of light invaded the mute red calm that encompassed the desolate lands surrounding, brought on by the jagged love affair of iron and flint. The newborn flame danced proudly, finally released from it's cold metal coffin. Slowly it raised through the air, flickering in the faint wind, and kissed the tip of plant and paper, transferring the very essence and meaning of its life.

A gentle intake of air caused the glow of burning nicotine to flair up, and the spark of flame was extinguished as BiShouNenKaMi pulled the Zippo away and flicked it shut. He pulled the cigarette away with his free hand and let out the breath, then replaced it, flipping the lighter over in his hand. It was royal blue and faded in areas. Scrawled across one face in what looked like red nail-polish, were the words "Get Real", and on the other was a hot pink faked lipstick kiss. It wasn't his usual, but it served its purpose all the same. He smirked as he took another hit, and set the lighter on the top of the car.

The car.

Twenty minutes prior, he had been wandering the lands, naked and alone, lost amidst the chaos. It was around then that he spotted her. At first he shrugged it off as a hallucination brought on by his recent escape from the Nothing, and the hunger he had felt since. But when he reached her, and kicked his bare foot hard into her bumper, the pain proved to him otherwise. She was real, alright.

A '66 Shelby GT... no, better. <i>His</i> Shelby. Stolen so long ago on that first fateful night, and left here, parked outside the remnants of his old apartment building. At first he had thought he could grab something to wear from inside, toss on some familiar outfit or something. Unfurtunately, all he could find was a single pair of boots, lying outside the door to his room, beyond which lie open space.

Carrying the boots, he had made his back to the Shelby. To the left of it was a spot of blood on the concrete where he had most probably hit after being shot by Fold. He ran his fingers over the darkened pavement, remembering in flashes the sight of who he originally thought was The Sinister Chris from the window above as he fell through the air. That had been so long ago. Quite literally another lifetime.

As he had stood, a faint glint of silver caught his eye. Smiling with a shake of disbelief, BiShou reached over to the mottled leaves by the curb and rescued his keys.

Now he stood beside the Shelby, wrapped in the cloak he had stored with his original clothing from that faraway life. In the glove box he had found the Zippo and a pack of Camels, a remnant of the car's previous owner, and tucked in the far back of the trunk, a single bottle of White Horse whiskey.

BiShouNenKaMi reached over and grabbed the now opened bottle and leaned against the Shelby, pulling the cigarette away to take a swig. The cool liquid burned his throat and he sighed, closing his eyes.

"How long?" he asked to the open air. "How long has it been? When did we lose? <i>Have</i> we really lost, or is this just the interim?" The wind around him slowed and died. BiShou took another swig and a hit and opened his eyes. His gaze drifted to the castle in the distance, and then down to the Shelby and his cloak.

"Just how long have the Watchers had all of this planned out?" He paused, considering for a moment. Then, with sudden rage, he shook his head and curled his nose. "Fuck this! FUCK YOU!!" Spinning around, he whipped the bottle through the air. It crashed against the side of the fallen complex. Glistening liquor ran down the crumbling walls and spattered the ground. BiShou snatched up the lighter and hopped into the car, slamming the door beside him and throwing the keys into the ignition.

"I'm ending this game..." he swore as he flicked the dieing stub of his cigarette from the open window and put the car in gear, pulling out of the parking lot and into the broken streets of Osaka. "I'm fucking ending this bullshit, goddamn it. Once and for all."

-BiShouNenKaMi

*silence*

_________________
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PostPosted: Sun Dec 14, 2003 7:56 pm 
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-= Cue Theme: Muse - 02 - Apocalypse Please =-

"So, Adric has found the boy. Beautiful."

Fold stared at the images splayed before him, watching as the two men were locked in battle.

"Unfotunately for you, dear Adric, I cannot let you win so easily." He grinned, then turned to the girl shrieking in the corner. "Or you."

If she heard him, she didn't respond. All Luci continued to do was scream.

"Oh for crying out loud..." Fold paused and laughed. "Wait... that's what you're doing." He stepped over to Luci and slammed his foot into her gut. A moment's sob, and the tormented shrieks resumed.

<i>I'll try to save you.</i>

The words formed in Fold's mind as they came. A dark scowl came to his visage.

"That boy. His Watcher is trying to interfere..." He turned back to the images. "Well, I don't fucking think so!!"

With one hand, Fold raised an outstretched palm to the images. With the other, he siezed Luci by the hair. The newly reclaimed pendant flashed at his neck, and the images began to flicker.

"...stop you... i must... i must stop you... don't do this for me, adric..."

Fold looked down at Luci, who had lowered her screams and was now almost chanting as she looked up at him. For a brief second, staring into the deep violet eyes gazing up at him, Fold nearly lost himself. He shook his head and kicked her again.

"Ha! You want to stop him?! Well, you little bitch, that's just what I have in mind. But you won't just stop him, my dear... You will break the man known as Adric like he has never been before!!"

Fold crossed to the images, which now flowed like an open portal, though the battle within seemed to have been set on pause. As he neared the door to the chaos, Luci began to try and struggle free, clawing at Fold's hand in her hair.

"No no, little one. I have plans for you..." He stopped at the edge of the gateway as more words began to form in his head...

<i>Wait a second. Maybe I can save you. Maybe—</i>

Fold reached his outstretched hand into the images and smirked, releasing a powerful blast. "Naughty naughty, Todd. It’s out of your hands now. <b>I</b> am in control..."

With that, he wrenched his arm back and threw Luci full force into the portal.

Fold turned and began to walk toward the exit. "What I'll miss most are the screams," he spoke... "They made this place feel like home again."

-Fold

Do not defy me.


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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2003 9:55 am 
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Even as he arcs towards the prone boy, the remaining world seems to hesitate for a moment...the boy before him is obscured, he disappears, and then there is a girl.

No, Not A girl....HER. The reaso he is here, lunging at a once comrade, intent on murder, bringing the weapong down.

At HER.

NO!

He tries to pull the Guitar away, avert the deadly swing, but his eyes lock with hers, those amazing deep Violet eyes, eyes he'd drowned in so many times, and the scene around him fades...fades away...


-=CUE UP, MOTHERFUCKER: The Tea Party - Psychopomp=-

He is standing behind her, again, the storm is raging outside her cell again...but she is beautiful, how he remembers her...a little too skinny, her long hair a little scruffy from sleep, but the cuts are gone, the dark circles under her eyes are gone, and she's smiling.

"Luci...what's?" He stops as she shakes her head, moving forward, smiling that Forever smile.

"It's OK love...we don't have long, but we have long enough." her smile widens warmly, as her hand reaches up, touching his blood-streaked face.

"how did you...how did WE get here?" He asks tenderly, touching her hand softly, moving his head to kiss her palm softly, sadly.

"That man, Fold...he made me watch you...what you were doing for me...i couldn't...i can't let you kill them for me...i can't keep...it hurts so much, Adric!" She leans against him, sobbing, letting herself seek shelter in him once more, one last time, He just holds her quietly for a while, rubbing her back softly as she sobs. the he speaks.

"You used it, didn't you? to make him send you? and then on me...so we could..."

"...say goodbye..." She nods into his chest, before leaning away. "i've always known...i'm your last vice...the last control...if i'm....if i'm not...you can..." she stops, gathers herself, and continues "in your dreams, iv'e seen you, Adric. Wild, Free, unstoppable, unrepentant. it always frightened me, but it was like looking at an eagle 'oh, how free and splendid and majestic!' i'd cry to myself, and a part of me knew...it was me holding you back...it made me feel special, chosen, but it made me sad that you couldn't fly, like in your dreams."

Something begins to gnaw at Adric as his love, the only human he'd ever felt connected to, continues. "I want to set you free, now...but i want to be free too....it hurts, Adric, so much! i...i can't bear it any more!" A great hollow pit opens up in his belly as realisation sinks in.

"Dischord...The guitar...it's still falling, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"at you."

"Yes."

Now, tears leak down his face, splashing on her upturned cheeks. "please, don't! i don't want to be the one-"

"It's not you!" she cuts him off, "It's me! i'm taking advantage of a situation...i...PLANNED this! I'M using you! and i used HIM." she grabs his face making him look at her speaking urgently "Do you understand? I. USED. HIM. He may have extra powers, but there are still some rules he is bound to!"

"please, Luci..."

One last kiss before....

...you fade away

"Adric....please...kiss me?"

He leans down, still crying, kisses her with all the pain and passion they have shared over the years, holding on to her tightly, trying not to think of the descending weapon flying straight for his love's skull.

Then the interlude is shattered, or perhaps, crushed, and reality, in all it's horrific detail slams back home, with Dischord howling out it's jubilant victory strike, Mad's howl changing from savage glee to a hollow call, to nothing.

The guitar drops from his hand with a "jang" sound, and he falls to his knees next to her, not looking at the mess above her hairline, not wanting to look at those Forever Eyes, now staring blankly and looking like little more than colored glass.

He doesn't scream in anger, he doesn't howl his loss to the heavens, he just lies down next to her, too shocked to act for once in his life, as the magnitude of his act sinks home.

Squinting his eyes, he clutches her glose, and finally, the tears come through his lids unbidden, and he now sobs, miserable, choking sobs...pathetic, empty, helpless...The sobs of someone who, upon finding themselves falling into despair, cannot see the way out.

The sobs grow to great bawling cries, echoing out over the ruined city, and now the howls come, as he lies there, next to the lifeless corpse of his love, Adric The Mad, Madadric, and to her never anyone but Adric, mourns.

He does not know how long he cries, these things cannot be measured in minutes or hours, only in pain and emptiness. he cries until the hurt is replaced by simple hollow loss, and he can think again, and her words come swimming back, disjointed, but full of meaning.

"Do you understand? I. USED. HIM." "Adric....please" 'oh, how free and splendid and majestic!' "That man, Fold"
"It's not you!" "It's OK love" "it hurts, Adric," "fly, like in your dreams." "kiss me?"


She had used Fold..she, a character, had manipulated the man with the powers of a watcher, from the inside.

she had sacrificed herself...to free him. So he could fight Fold...with everything?

"No excuses...no regrets..." Madadric mutters from the dirt next to his love. "these are our choices to live and die by, watchers or no..."

Adric gets to his hands and knees, still talking to himself in a voice hoarse from crying. "so we have to make our lives count, mean something."

He stands up, looking at the spire with renewed purpose, drive, WILL. "I WON'T LET HER MEAN NOTHING!"

Adric takes a step, one step forward, with all the purpose and desire his journey, and his love's sacrifice has given him-

-And he stands, inside the castle front hall, Dischord in Hand, naked and covered in blood.

"FOLD! I'm here!" The ChaosBard howls.

"aND NoW We HaVe eTeRNiTY To PLaY!"

_________________
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PostPosted: Mon Dec 15, 2003 8:08 pm 
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=Cue Up-Talking Heads—“Psycho Killer”=

Orochi woke up. Before, when his existence had been written back into the story, it had been gradual, halting, uncertain, with only parts of him coming back. First a voice, then a face, then a consciousness, then a soul. When he had finally found a purpose again, he died once more. Or he thought he had. He came back to a voice screaming in pain, then realized it was his own and stopped with a gasp. Coughing, he rolled onto his stomach and pushed off the floor. Tiled. Reflecting his blood-caked, blond-haired face back at him. Orochi shook his head. He could have sworn something strange was behind his eyes.

Something felt different about this time . . . it was more visceral, bewilderingly fast. He thought he was dead, then he wasn’t, and he could have sworn someone said something like “Goodbye.” His fate was being rewritten so fast he couldn’t remember if he was someone else or supposed to be confused.

“Did you plan this, Ahasuerus?” he said. Orochi stood up and looked around. Metallic walls, but he could—see—quite clearly they were only stone painted with some strange reflective paint. Up, a flickering fluorescent light swung on a tattered wire on the ceiling. A door and others down a hallway. Orochi turned around to see a door behind him, metal filament crossing through the glass. He grabbed the handle, pulled, but it didn’t budge. Looked to the side of the door. Keypad. It was dead. Orochi swung his fist into the door. Cracks appeared in the glass and the walls. The door buckled inward and creaked. Another punch, and the doors fell into darkness.

The lab revealed itself to him. Orochi stepped past broken tubes, burned-out, hollowed husks where Cray supercomputers used to stand, wires lying haphazardly all across the floor, scorch marks showing where they had sparked before all the electricity had died. Carefully walking around the dangers of a half-destroyed building, Orochi stopped in front of a gigantic round hemisphere embedded in the ground. Surprisingly, there was still a faint light stuttering over a keyboard.

“Trust the core to still have power,” Orochi said. “Or maybe it’s just the way the Watchers meant it to be.” He knelt down, and his fingers brushed away the faint layer of dust on the keys.

>>USER IDENTIFICATION REQUESTED:_

>USERID OR002-47387589275

>>PASSCODE:_

>7TIM898J4HB56HVB586H-VERITAS

>>WELCOME TO HYPERSPACE CORE, OVERSEER
>>WHAT DO YOU WISH TO DO:
>>1 CHECK MAILBOX
>>2 REVIEW PROJECT DATA
>>3 PLAY SOLITAIRE
>>4 OBSERVE CURRENT EXPERIMENTS
>>5 VIEW RECENT INTELLIGENCE
>>YOUR CHOICE:_

>1

>>CHECKING MAILBOX….


A flower of white bloomed on the screen, and the OS dropped into its more accessible format. A window in the middle of the screen displayed Orochi’s mailbox. Off to the side, a few icons floated, with tags indicating if anything new had happened since his last check. Orochi touched a key, and the mailbox zoomed to fill the screen. His eyes widened.

“So . . . he knew.”
_________

=Cue Up-Orgy—“Fiction (Dreams in Digital)”=

Kitsune struggled groggily awake, his eyes swimming with unrealized dreams and half-imagined screams. Life in all its wonder stretched lazily before him, then snapped taut and shattered into a million pieces.

“Whuh . . . what . .. where?” he said. Something sounded wrong; it was like he couldn’t speak yet spoke anyway. Like all he was was the thoughts of someone else.

“Feel a little scripted?” Orochi whispered. “I see you’re awake.” Kitsune blinked, then realized he was staring at himself without a mirror. Only how did he get brown eyes? “I see you,” Orochi said, smiling. “At last, through new eyes, I can see the boy I created.” He bent close. “My, you’re a fine one.”

Kitsune recoiled. “What the hell are you doing?” he said.

Orochi stood up, dusting off his jeans. “I regret the events that happened here before . . . the sundering of the world, I guess is as good as any name. I was not who I should have been.”

“What are you talking about?” Kit said. “You were who you always were.” He got to his feet, hands clenching. “A manipulative, arrogant bastard. Not much changed even after you got into my head.” He stepped towards Orochi. “And what’s going on now? How’d you get out of here,” he gestured to his head, “and into something else?”

Orochi made a “hmph” sound. “You thought you had it back at the motel, remember that?” Kitsune raised his eyebrows, eyes widening. “But I see you still don’t get it. The Watchers write us, boy. We’re nothing but words to be manipulated to cause some sort of emotional response. We’re characters, brief flashes of inspiration on a blank computer screen. Our lives play out in their minds every time we make a move. Do you think,” he stepped close to Kit, his breath hot on the boy’s neck, “that with such power, they could not resurrect us with a mere stroke of a few keys?” Orochi stepped back. “Consider us lucky he chose to plan a way for us to survive when we should have died.”

“You’re not saying anything new, old man,” Kitsune said. His hands shook. “That still doesn’t tell me how you got yourself a body again.”

Orochi grinned. “I wrote myself one,” he said. Kitsune’s eyes widened. “What’s the matter, Kit? Haven’t you read Xenocide? Oh, that’s right, you’re not the Watcher, you’ve never heard of Orson Scott Card. But thanks to your unique powers, I had the opportunity to hold my own soul in my hands.” He shrugged. “Apparently, my perception of myself became very tied with your appearance before I figured out what to do.”

Kitsune grabbed Orochi and shoved him up against a wall. “You used me again, didn’t you?” he said. He was only mildly surprised when Orochi grabbed his arms and gently pulled them off his shirt.

“You think so, do you?” Orochi said. “But I haven’t done anything to you since I was rewritten as a voice in your head. If anything, I’ve helped you.” Orochi shoved Kitsune backwards. “Ahasuerus figured the Watchers would begin to take control of us more directly. We were only dreams until the day a van pulled up at a place in the middle of nowhere and someone without a face asked if anyone wanted a ride. And things have building to a head ever since.” Orochi pulled Kit’s face close to his so their noses touched. “Don’t you see, boy? It’s all planned out.”

“Did they plan you?” Kit said, his voice so low only Orochi could have heard him.

Orochi paused, then pushed Kit’s face away with such force the boy spun and fell to the ground. “I . . . don’t know. Ahasuerus didn’t know.”

“Who is this Ahasuerus?” Kit said.

“He’s the man who funded the Hyperspace Project when the government started cutting back on the various black ops organizations it had operating. It’s his guidance I’ve been following since Hyperspace’s inception,” Orochi said.

“Who is he?”

“Have you heard of the Wandering Jew?” Orochi asked. “The man cursed to wander Earth until the Second Coming—or so the legend goes?”

“Yes . . .” Kit said, his voice trailing off.

“He calls himself Ahasuerus, after that man. Considering I’ve known him since my college years and I’ve not seen him age a day, I’m inclined to think there’s some truth behind it.” Orochi sighed. “He wants to bring about the Apocalypse foretold in the Revelation of John the Apostle. He’s misguided, but as far as the threat the Watchers posed to our existence we were agreed.”

“Were?” Kitsune said.

“I can’t exist without the will of your Watcher, boy,” Orochi said. “Do you think I don’t feel gratitude?” Then he smiled. “Besides, I’ve been rewritten. I’m not the same. You and I both have been changed.”

Orochi’s face scrunched up, snarling. Kitsune stepped back. “What . . . ?” he said.

“Get out of here, you fool. You’re late for an appointment with destiny,” Orochi said.

“I don’t understand—”

“You’re not going to yet. Now GO!” Orochi shoved Kitsune backwards again, and the universe around Kit lurched, heaved—and spat Kitsune back out in the ruins of a city.

No, not just any city. This was where he had fought Adric the Mad. Kitsune blinked in astonishment, then got to his feet. There was where he had crashed through the building. Behind him—yes, there was the spike, still lodged in the wall, where he had pinned the chaoswalker.

Kitsune looked up at the castle blotting out the sky. “I guess that’s what Orochi meant, right?” he said. And he began walking.
_________

Orochi was hunched over the core again, muttering something to himself. “So much to do and so little time . . .” he said. He quickly input a few commands. “Can’t waste time. Too much has already been tossed aside.” Orochi paused. “How do I know this?” he said. “. . . Oh, right. The same way I know everything. I’m a bunch of words with no delusions of identity, just a role . . . a bunch of loose descriptions that can be worked and reworked until the Watchers get sick of me.” Orochi grinned, brushed his hair out of his eyes, then bent closer to the screen. “Going to have to cut that someday . . . if I live beyond this story . . .”

The halls were empty save the sound of keys being struck.



OOC: No, I dunno where I’m going with this. But since my part of the story is my own again, I let my imagination roam. If it’s weird, if it doesn’t fit, don’t worry. In the long run, most of it won’t affect the major plans. It’s just a setup for a minor RT2 character, and maybe more, depending on where the Orochi subplot goes. I don’t anticipate much from it, though.

To clarify, Kit only vaguely remembers what happened at the end of my last post. And for those of you wondering, no, Orochi hasn’t become me. I understand what he says about as much as he does. Which is not much, I just trust it will all make sense somewhere down the line. /OOC


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PostPosted: Sun Dec 21, 2003 9:23 am 
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The hall stretched further than the eye could see. It was wide and tall; a dreadnought could have stridden down it with an honour guard by its side. There were many heavy set oak doors leading off from the hall, some of which were sealed with great iron chains and seals.

Antenor slammed into the cold grey stone of the floor of the hall. He leapt up from the floor with a murderous glare in his eyes. He thrashed out with a right hook at his opponent, a shadowy angelical figure. It barely moved. He struck out with a left, a right, a jab an uppercut, all his blows landing with perfect aim, all hits that would have devastated a man. The figure merely stepped backwards. The figure struck out with a backhand sending Antenor flying through the air and causing him to land with a heavy thud. The figure strode towards its stricken opponent. With each step more of the hall became enveloped by darkness.

Antenor rose from the floor, but he had changed, he was now younger, one of the metal studs on his forehead had gone. He fought with the figure again; his attack was relentless, every hit being hammered home. Again the figure barely moved, again, it hit out, again Antenor was sent flying down the hall. He rose again, younger still. Another stud had gone, along with all the insignia and wargear that showed he was a veteran sergeant. Closer the figure came and more of the hall descended into darkness.

Again he fought with the figure, again he was sent flying back. Another stud gone, along with all the insignia to show that he was a sergeant. Again he rose, again he fought, again he was cast back, and again he got younger. Now his armour had changed completely, it was now that of one of the scouts of the 10th company. Again he rose, again he fought and again he was sent flying back. The end of the hall was now in sight. How he had totally changed. He was no longer the tall proud space marine that he was at the beginning of this fight. He was short and fragile, his body covered with rashes and sores from exposure to intense radiation.

Again he rose and again he fought. But this time was different. With the end in sight he fought harder and more determined to win. A left, a right, a jab, an uppercut and then a powerful punch with his right and the figure was dealt a mighty blow. Not only that but it was also sent flying down the hall. The darkness that it had brought with it quickly receded and light returned to that section of the hall.

The figure rose but Antenor, now in his scout armour, was quickly upon it, delivering more blows to his shadowy opponent. He fought the beast back and with each step he took he got older and with each step the figure took the hall got lighter as the darkness withdrew, until the other end of the hall was in sight. Now Antenor had returned to the form that he had started this fight as. It was here that the figure began to fight harder, and the momentum of the battle swung in its favour. It would continue like this till one of them won, and Antenor knew that his strength would fail long before his opponents.

In side the commiemobile Rand drove on, oblivious to the battle that was going on.

_________________
"We Legion know what it be like to be warjack. When death comes, I die bleeding oil and sparks like metal brothers. When death comes, I die in steam." - Deidric Harkinos, veteran of the Man-O-War Legion


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PostPosted: Mon Dec 22, 2003 3:17 am 
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-= Cue Theme: Matantei Loki RAGNAROK - 15 - The Presence of the Enemy =-

"FOLD! I'm here!" The ChaosBard howled.

<b>"aND NoW We HaVe eTeRNiTY To PLaY!"</b>

The voice of Adric the Mad rippled throughout the castle.

Deep within the twisting labyrinth of his own creation, Fold smiled and thought to himself. After a moment's pause, he opened his eyes and stepped away from the now dormant portal.

"Yes..." he said, continuing his thought aloud. "... I shall take this man's life tonight. But not unarmed."

Holding out his hand, a blade began to manifest before him. Four feet of folded steel, stained black with the last physical remnants of its most recent victim. The width of the blade caught the light, reflecting the wicked smirk upon Fold's face as he snatched the sword from the air and made two diagonal slashes in the air.

"Yes. Tonight we take to arms."

----------

-= Cue Theme: Slurpy Mundae - Fold =-

The expanse of the broken world spread itself out beneath her. The world Fold had created. It's random design spoke to her of his attention to detail. The mere geographic shifts told of a passionate mind reaching out for something more. The Madness Sky above reminded her of his random, if at times violent, disposition.

She beheld the world in all it's chaotic slendor... and loved him more.

Turning from her silent reverie, she began to survey the lands. At various points, she could see the remaining Expatriates making their way closer. Some had joined up, while others still had... tasks... to occupy them. She wasn't surprised by how close a few had made it. It had been quite some time since they had come to this realm. As she scanned the horizon, she nodded, thinking of how things would soon be over...

And then she spotted it.

A lone car, careening through an open patch of desert, making incredible time. She did a quick count in her head, and then looked back to the vehicle.

This was someone new. This was unexpected. This was unplanned for.

This was bad.

As she watched, the car slipped into the dense cover brought by the African jungle.

"Shit..." she swore, quickly turning to the door leading back into the castle. "I have to tell Fold. I have to warn-"

"FOLD! I'm here! <b>...aND NoW We HaVe eTeRNiTY To PLaY!"</b>

------------

-= Cue Theme: The Matrix Revolutions - 10 - Kidfried =-

The ChaosBard stood in the main hall, gripping the guitar at his side in one hand and reflexively opening and closing the other. There was no need to run off searching through the castle for Fold. No... he had been heard... and soon, they would battle. Adric could taste the impending clash, hungering for it, longing for it... demanding it.

This would be a battle to last ages.

Off to Mad's left, a door opened. He wheeled in an instant, ready to spring... unprepared for who stepped forward.

"Mad... Mad what's happened to you..?"

"...you're dead, Muz."

The Bald Bastard shook his head. His clothes were torn and deep gashes detailed a map of pain across his flesh. Wincing, he stepped forward. "No, Mad... it's me. Something happened. I don't know... one minute we were out in the desert being attacked by that... that thing... and the next thing I knew I was lying on the floor in some room. What the hell happened? Where are we?"

"I don't talk to dead men." Mad snarled, raising the guitar menacingly.

"Mad... what the fuck? Look, obviously something's happened. Come on... just hand me my guitar and tell me what's going on, alright?"

Adric the Mad's eyes flashed with anger. He turned away from Muz and faced the upper balcony. "No more games, Fold!! Face me! Don't send more pathetic imitations in your place! It's pointless!!"

"Mad..." Muz came closer, holding up his hand, "Mad, you have to-"

"Come on!!" Mad blocked out the approaching figure from his attention.

"Mad! Listen to m-"

"<b>FACE ME!!!</b>"

"Mad... <i>if you insist</i>." The voice to his side had changed mid sentence.

Mad Adric spun in an instant, lashing out with Dischord, which was caught with the blade of Fold's sword. Fold pushed the force back and up, looking under the weapons locked together at the ChaosBard. He grinned. "Are you ready, dear Adric?"

"You really did a shit impersonation, you know." the wild youth spoke. A monsterous and gleeful grin then slit his blood-covered face. "Of course I'm ready. Now stop posing and fight!" Mad pulled back his weapon, spun low, and leapt at Fold.

The battle had begun.

-Fold

Dance, my pretties. Dance.


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Nietzsche, in The Gay Science, wrote:
If this thought gained possession of you, it would change you as you are or perhaps crush you.



“Sylvia Plath wrote poetry and committed suicide so Ryan Adams could write a song about her,” Orochi said, “and he went on to sing ‘Hallelujah’ . . .” His mouth barely moved as he spoke. He had found a pair of scissors somewhere, he didn’t remember where anymore, and had cut his hair down to a more manageable length. It looked slightly uneven, but he didn’t need to worry about appearances. Not yet anyway. He cursed and erased what he had just input into the computer. “Nietzsche . . . Nietzsche . . . somehow Nietzsche fits into all of this . . .” he said.

Orochi bent closer to the core’s computer screen. “I bent closer to the computer screen,” he said. He saw his words. “I saw my words,” he read. And they were what he had done. “And they are what I have done . . .”

He narrowed his eyes. “I felt a gun against my neck,” he whispered, so low not even he heard them.

“Get up,” the voice the gun belonged to said. Orochi complied. “You’re not Kit. I can tell that much. This world may be fucked up, but Kit would still be a fucking naïve idiot. He’d have acted fucking shocked at least,” the voice said. “Who are you!”

Oorchi turned around to face the gun. His eyes followed the gun to the metal hand holding it, to the long trenchcoat, to the sunglasses on a goateed face, to the black baseball cap with the letters “SSP” emblazoned on it in silver.

The Sinister Chris tightened his grip on the gun. “You’ve got brown eyes,” he said. “Fuck, this is fucked up.”

“You said it better than I could,” Orochi said, grinning. “I recognize you.”

Chris lit up. “Oh, you do? I’m honored. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Apparently being interesting enough to be written back into a story that has no need for you any longer,” Orochi said. He folded his arms.

“Speak small words, Kit-person,” Chris said. “Big words make me poop.”

Orochi’s left eyebrow twitched. “. . . I should have known you weren’t sane, none of you Expatriates ever are . . .” he said.

Abruptly, Chris’ face hardened. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”

Without blinking, Orochi replied, “You’ll know when the story needs you to know.”

Chris sighed dramatically. “Fuck, as if Bishou weren’t bad enough, I’ve got to put up with ANOTHER melodrama addict who thinks we’re all just a bunch of fucking characters on a page?”

Orochi laughed. “Go ahead and whine, I’m not going to tell you unless I have to.”

The gun found its way onto Orochi’s forehead. “This thing’s still loaded, bitch,” Chris said, smiling. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. I see. Chris wasn’t a PC at the time, he wasn’t immune to the effects of Fold’s writing . . . things are happening too fast for a plot to hold consistency any longer . . . time to write myself for a moment.

Orochi ducked below the gun just as it fired. He could feel each individual hair as it burned, curled, and died. Eternity passed, and Orochi saw the flash of red fade from Chris’ eyes, but he was on his way now. Suddenly things moved too fast, far too fast to stop them from happening. A gut punch and an uppercut, then a kick, as Orochi’s years spent surviving in the slums took over for his intellect. Chris fell back, coughing up blood.

“Damn nanites . . . don’t work anymore . . .” he said. “Did you have to kick me in the fucking face?”

“The name is Orochi, TSC,” Orochi said. “You were under the influence of Fold. I didn’t think you’d snap out of it.”

“I’ll be fine in a fucking minute, once this bleeding fucking stops,” Chris said. “So, Fold’s still around? He should’ve been dead by now. What happened, you all get lazy?”

“Fold became a Watcher,” Orochi said. “And he broke the rules.”

“Wondered what happened to everything.”

“However,” Orochi said, grinning, “he only broke them by a wide margin once. And even then, he’s still in character. He’s still following most of the rules, even if he breaks some of them. Only I don’t think he’s breaking them. I think those rules are meant to break this way.”

“You’re confusing me,” Chris said. “Can’t anyone speak a sentence in plain fucking English anymore?”

Orochi looked at TSC long and hard. Something wasn’t right; this was not how it was supposed to be. Chris seemed off somehow. Orochi’s eyes narrowed. “You’re wrong,” he said.

“Excuse me a fucking second?” Chris said.

“I should have known, it’s not Chris using you, it has to be the real Watcher writing you back into the story for it to work properly . . . this isn’t you, it’s just some shadow who thinks it’s you . . .” Orochi said, his voice trailing off as he lost himself to his own thoughts.

“You realize you’re not making any illogical sense?” Chris said. “You sound like a fucking ‘tard.”

The gun was in Orochi’s hand. Chris’ eyes widened.

“Say hello to your Watcher for me, TSC,” Orochi said. “Pray he resurrects you like he should. Because now that Todd’s had his fun with you, he can.” Orochi lifted the gun up, aimed it at Chris’ forehead. “We’re all our Watcher’s thoughts, waiting to take possession of them,” he said.






And the bullet went home.


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"Welcome to my world. Now I have a question for you, you are probably the only person on the planet who can probably answer this... what is Fold like? I've never met him, but I have to release him." Actor looked at the water, contemplating."I'm sorry but I have to know what is he like so I know what I'm fighting."

Miao said hesitantly, "Well, he's very... dramatic, self-confident..." She recalled the words that Madadric had said in Sherm's Diner, so long ago it seemed. "Fold is like the reflection of Bishou, but more ambitious, I think, and... dark."

Actor sat back slightly on the log and said thoughtfully, "Now how can I use that against him..."

Why must it always come back to death, ruin, destruction?

Miao took a deep breath. Fold had ruined the world and everything in it; if Actor could revenge it, so much the better.

"Personally, I think... he might be afraid." Miao ventured.

"Afraid? Of what? Me?" Actor seemed to grin at the thought of it.

"N-no, not... not just you. Do you ever have nightmares of running as fast as you can, and then realizing that you're still exactly where you've started?"

"Not that I can remember. What does that have to do with it?"

"Well, Fold might be 'running', so to speak, but what if one day he sees that the puppet strings are still attached to him?"

"So basically, Fold might still be under the control of the Watchers? And thats what he's afraid of?" The irony of the most powerful being being afraid of his ultimate goal amused the God.

"Exactly. If they can affect every aspect of our lives, even our thoughts, how do you know if you're being manipulated or not? Perhaps they're manipulating him to believe that he's emerged into their world, except that he hasn't. And then what will all this mean?" Miao waved at their surroundings vaguely. "All that he's achieved... destroyed..."

Actor thought about it for a few moments. "Interesting theory, but-" He cut off abruptly as the log gave a slight shudder, almost throwing off both of its occupants. Miao snagged Actor with one hand and latched onto the bark with the claws of her hindpaws and her free hand. "What-" A wave splashed into Actor's face, leaving him spluttering momentarily.

Suddenly, they were racing through a narrow offshoot from the canyon, borne on a rolling, irregular current. A raised porticullis yawned ahead, set at the very base of the dark castle. "-the hell?!" Actor finished. Miao didn't answer, concentrating on maintaining her grip on the slippery log. For a moment, they surged underwater as the log rolled over, but as the light abruptly dimmed, the log snapped upright again. Miao looked around between coughing water, and saw that they were inside the castle.

"Thank you Miao." He let go of her hand. Small cuts from her grip began to heal across the palm.

She looked into the pitch blackness. Her cat eyes were as blind as Actors as they moved silently in the darkness. "... this can't be good."

_________________
"I just want to know why guys will talk about boobs, but rarely talk about anything else when it comes to girls! What makes them talk about boobs? What makes boobs so interesting?"
"Because talking about vaginas is even less socially acceptable."


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Orochi hummed to himself, lost in his thoughts, or were they his thoughts anymore? Who was it thinking, was it really what he thought or just what was written for him to think? Every word he thought appeared somewhere . . .

Orochi looked down at his arm, scrawled with notes to himself for his memory before he moved on. “Someone’s getting too confident in their divinity,” read one. Another read “All perspectives are unique. None are equal, but truth is equally spread across them, who can say what is really being seen, but there must be something true to base it off of or else nothing can be true.” He wasn’t sure he was thinking straight when he wrote that one. He wasn’t entirely sure where he’d found time to write it, either. He glanced at his left arm, which read, “It’s Christmas today, have you opened your presents?” He found that odd, since it was nowhere near Christmas. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if there was no Christmas. But that’s pointless, because Christmas was only an idea, not a physical existence, which is what he was, sort of.

“I’m losing my mind,” he said, and quickly scrawled it across his hand. “Who’s controlling who? Is this me, or is it you?” He slapped his forehead with his hand, shaking his head to clear it. “Every time I die it’s morphine season, and somewhere in Juneau, Alaska, they’re having a funeral for a friend of mine. Also, some girl who likes peaches is fucking her father, but what that has to do with anything is up to Iggy Pop to figure out.” Orochi paused, then hit a key and the screen blanked out. “Why am I sitting here typing anyway? Oh, right, because I’m trying to learn how to write myself, that’s why, and Kit’s Watcher seems not to care. Or is it because I am his Watcher? No. I’m not in control, or else this all would make sense.” He looked up. “Or would it? This is only a story, after all.”

Orochi stood up, still looking to the ceiling. “Who said the world had to follow rules? Who says that someone has to order it all nice and neat and sensibly? Isn’t it enough to think?” He ran his hands through his jet-black hair, another change he didn’t remember doing, but nonetheless it had happened and he had done it somewhere between then and now, which was grey until he started humming to himself, fuzzy and indistinct. Except he clearly remembered dying it. Fuck. “Schopenhauer said the world is absurd, why should our reactions be to attack it from the opposite side?”

Orochi fell against the wall, sweat pouring down his face. “I’m tired . . . so tired of playing these mind games with myself . . . why isn’t this over? A few days ago was a year ago, somewhere. They knew the end months ago, but we’re still stuck here waiting for it all to get over with. Someone’s religion went bad as they questioned the process of belief. Most of us still don’t have faces because our artists are lazy, or is it because we can’t write ourselves in that clearly?”

Grinning, Orochi stared at the core computer screen. “Merry Christmas, Fold, hope you get what you wanted,” he said. Then he scrawled a note to remind himself that it was Christmas, and noticed that he had yet to write it.

A few moments later, Orochi passed out from stress.


OOC: Merry Christmas. Trying to explain what one is doing while still trying to pull it off is damn tricky. It'll make sense somehow, though. It has to, since I don't intend to explain the method to my madness again. /OOC

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PostPosted: Sun Dec 28, 2003 12:36 am 
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Mad lands, his bare feet skidding on the dusty marble floor, Dischord having struck nothing. The ChaosBard crouches low, his hand and feet on the ground, Dischord paralelle to the marble floor. His eyes dart around the hallway, searching for his opponent.

nothing.

A voice.

"Very pretty, ChaosBard, but i read it before you had even moved." the long haired man smiles, a curving of the lips that never reaches the eyes. "you are an open book, Adric The Mad. it has already all been written. You cannot surprise me!"

Mad doesn't move from his position, just turns his head to look at the man, who stands unruffled.

"You gonna use that fucking sword, or you just got it to pose with?"

Looking a little irritated, Fold lunges, almost quicker than Mad can react, and the sword slices through his upper arm, blood spurting from the wound onto the floor, leaving a crimson spray across the surface. The ChaosBard skids and backsteps, parrying and dodging a series of lunging attacks from Fold, The red-haired man using a savage, blunt style and Fold riptosing and striking like a Fencer.

Madadric's swings are swift and savage, and yet, where he strikes, there is only air, Fold having anticipated the move and countered or dodged before it strikes. Fold ducks a horizontal swing, and slams the pommell of his blade into mad's face, sending him sprawling. ARRGH! slow, i'm too slow. whatever i do, he sees it coming.

"Of course i do, you fool! i READ it coming! No matter how fast you are, how skillful....it doesn't matter! it's already written! i've read it!"

Adric spits blood and a chipped tooth onto the smooth floor, painfully standing up. "Th...then how does it end? eh? If the future is written, and you've read it, then how's it finish?" Madadric snarls sardonically, slinging Dischord across his shoulder, his head lolling a little.

"simple, my simple friend." Fold returns the sardonic expression. "I win. You die."

Mad swings the guitar off his shoulder, striding towards his foe once more. The snarl shifts into the familiar mad gleeful grin. The grin you give when you know...KNOW the sixth chamber holds the bullet. The grin you give when it's hopeless, but you don't care, because you won't go alone. A grin only for The Mad.

"And how do you know this? Fold? You read it?"

"No. I wrote it."

The gleam in the red-haired man's eyes would have given anyone with less confidence, or more sense, pause, but it's effect was lost on the man Fold. The ominous hum/howl/scream/thrashing curse of Dischord would have made the ears of any other bleed. The ChaodBard's speed would have meant to any other that death came before recognition.

None of this matters to Fold. Dischord hits the floor where he stood, marble chips and dust explode forth, cutting at mad's body and face even more, but the denied emotions-come man-come self made god is untouched. Because he's read it coming. He's seen it, and he worte that it missed.

Then he wrote pain. Madadric's.



Fold is behind Madadric again, the sword thrusts forward, piercing the chaosbard's body, jutting from Mad's chest...as it had once done to Ezelek. Again mad coughs up a gout of blood, the fluid splattering on the floor and the hole from Dischord's energy. But he does not still. Kitsune...or at least the figmen in kitsune's body had done more damage than this.


-=Cue up: <a href="http://www.zerodegreesfreedom.com/flash_site/mp3s.html">Zero Degrees Freedom - Heneh</a>=-


"I...think you got it wrong, assface." Mad groans, grabbing the blade with his disproportionately large hand.

"YOU get to be Prometheus. I get to be the crow!"

Then something new happens, something that hasn't happened before, something hard to understand. And more difficult to explain.

Madadric thrusts himself forward off the blade/Madadric spins, wrenching the blade out of Fold's hand/Madadric's runes flare up, blinding fold for a second/Madadric kicks out, pushing fold back, the sword still embedded/Madadric bursts into flames, engulfing them both/Madadric backhands Fold in the face, throwing him back, the sword still in mad's body/Madadric absorbs the blade, then Fold's arm, then Fold/Mary dances with her Lambs, all in a butcher's mockery of life/One atom stops existing, and everything collapses through the resulting hole/nothing happens/EVERYTHING HAPPENS

Fold reels back, clutching at his smashed nose, surprise registering on his arrogant face. Madadric turns, his arm reaching back impossibly, drawing his opponent's blade from his chest. how could that monster's grin get bigger? How?

"eDiT"

Mad throws the sword at Fold, it skids across the floor, scraping and clanging, and it leaves a smeared trail of the ChaosBard's blood behind. mad strides purposefully towards Fold, who stands clutching at his healing face, the blood streaming from his nose slowing to a trickle and then stopping.

"-What?!"

"What was that, you ask?" Madadric says, still striding forward. "I don't know either, but it was fun!"

Adric the Mad swings dischord at Fold in a sweeping horizontal arc/Adric the Mad slams his fist into Fold's stomach, doubling the man over/Adric the Mad leans in close, grabbing Fold's head and kisses him full on the lips/Adric the Mad kicks Fold viciously in the knee, smashing his kneecap/Adric the Mad brings a bolt of force down on Fold, slamming the man off his feet/Adric the Mad grabs Fold's head, leans forward, and bites Fold's left eye out of his skull/Tongue and all/Adric the Mad vanishes, only to reappear in a small blue egg in MiaoMing's pocket/Adric the Mad grabs the sword on the floor, spins behind Fold, and thrusts it through his opponents chest, laughing/Adric the Mad smashes a bottle over Fold's head/I was abducted by aliens once, they told me i was a fiction created by a small green goat for shits and giggles/None of This Ever Happened/It's All Happening Right Now

As Fold falls back, his savaged face bleeding, and his empty socket glaring blindly, madadric lashes out with Dischord again, but the swing misses as the DemiWatcher reads it, and teleports.

"I...I see now!" Fold snarls victoriously. "I see your trick!"

Playfully, like it is the biggest joke in the world, Madadric draws Fold's eye out of his mouth, studies it, and looks at hos bleeding opponent in a VERY Foldlike manner. With humor lighting up his face, mad speaks.

"Do you now? do you see now?!" The chaosbard laughs madly as he throws the eyeball over his shoulder. "What would Antenor say, i wonder? an EYE for an EYE?"

"HE'S doing it! he's...or..." Fold scowls at mad with his good eye while he covers his empty socket. "Or he's letting you do it! THAT FUCKING BASTARD!"

Fold scoops up the sword, and charges madadric with incredible speed, without reading the script. Mad manages to block in time, but only barely, and the second attack, a low swing, bites into his thigh. Mad grabs Fold by the shoulder, and wrenches him into a savage headbutt. The two fall back, their bodies already rapidly healing, each man panting hard. Within moments, they both appear completely healed.

"Looks like we both get to play the Crow..." Mad says between breaths. "You finally got it."

"It's one thing to read and write of battle... it's another to take to arms and join it." Fold remarks. "The only thing you've managed to do with that little trick of yours is make the script harder to follow." he pushes himself to his feet and dusts himself off, blinking both eyes once, then grinning. "So I say, fuck the script. We can still play like this without it."

Mad's head leans forward, so only his grinning mouth can be seen under his hair. "Then it's about time we finally had some fun, eh?" From his position on the floor, He charges like some great feline, abandoning his chaos-write just as Fold had abandoned his watcher-sight, ready to lose himself in the conflict. "LET'S UP AND FUCKING GO!"

ooc: Let this battle be long, and bloody on both sides. it's time for these two monsters to have their fun at the end of the world./OOC

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Imagine the world has a tune, a melody for its existance, imagine:
John Lennon - Imagine

The world is fiction, and thus fiction is the world.

Actor thought about this for a minute while holding a door open for Miao. They had wandered through the dank caves below Folds tower for a long time, so long that Actor began to suspect that they weren't traveling in the right direction in Time. They kept walking upwards, alone for now.

He decided to break the silence. "You've known Kit a long time haven't you?"

"Yes."

"You hope he's alive don't you?"

"Of course I do."

The burning torches wavered as shockwaves began to rock the room. The two ran to the door frame and braced themselves.

"Fold is really pushing it; he's got to be fighting someone very powerful." Hope sprang in her eyes. "It could be Kit."

"Its possible. If it is, then he's going to die. Fold holds all the power here."

Miao snarled, turned around, and slapped Actors face with everything she had. "Don't you have any optimism? Don't you give a damn about Kit? About the world?"

Actor checked his cheek, which was bleeding slightly. "Why should I? The watchers control it all. If they don't care about it, why should I? I'm the god of Murder. Of death and betrayal. Everyone that I see, every second, has been slain by someone that they could have called a brother." Actor realized he was being angsty. "It's all a dream, you know that. Just a dream."

"So what does that make Kit and me? Some kind of joke?" Miao almost growled.

Actor turned and kept walking to the next room. "No." He remembered what it was to be in love... just for a second he regretted killing her. "Far from it. It makes you hope. That this whole nightmare may have something good in it afterall. At least for some of us." Actor's wings were folded up under his coat. "Even the dead."

A pause, an awkward silence. They kept walking, the God and the girl, strangers and allies.

"It's the emptiness." Miao murmured.

"What?"

"It makes you think, about things that you don't normally. Because without distractions your mind wanders."

"The Watchers are testing us..." Actor tripped over in the dark, landing face first on the ground.

She laughed. "It doesn't always have to be about the Watchers, Actor."

Actor began laughing as well. "I guess you're right."

Their laughter echoed through the caverns.
______________________________

Outside the tower the Priest dropped the Coffin on the ground, resting for a moment before the doorway.

"I don't want to go in there."

The coffin spoke to him. "You must."

"You're dead. Stop talking to me."

"I'm not, stupid. You're going crazy; all the gods are. Actor is only staying sane by a thin margin. Soon he'll go with you."

"Shut up, I don't care."

"The end is nigh, Father. The End is Nigh."

The priest began dragging the coffin into the Tower.
______________________________

"It's all coming to a close, Miao. The End Times. The Book of Revelations." He grinned. "I should get a green horse."

"Are you okay, Actor?" Miao tried to peer at him worriedly, foiled by the utter darkness.

"Of course." He blinked. "Of course I am all right."

The next door opened to a room larger than they could imagine.

"Holy shit!" The catgirl wasn't one to swear. But what they saw was...

"Billions of them..." Actor could only barely comprehend the number.

Bodies, a mountain range of bodies, all still, all clothed. Lying upon one another.

"I think we found out where everyone went when the world fell apart, Actor."

Their faces were painted red, and they weren't dead, they just looked at the walls like mannikins. Not moving, not hurting..

"Fold. I think I'm beginning to understand Fold's mind." Actor began to walk across the bodies lying on the floor. "Come on, we have much to do."

At the other end of the room another door awaited them...

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"Why can't we go back to living like cavemen? I know it was a rough and ready existence - the men where always rough and the women were always ready! " - Santa.


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 11, 2004 10:52 am 
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-= Cue Theme: Kill Bill OST - 04 - Twisted Nerve (Bernard Hermann) =-

As the man known as Adric charges, I can feel the heat of battle strike full force. Licking my lips and glancing him off with the sword in my hands, I begin to whistle.

This is what we have been waiting for. By no means the end of the tale, but we have begun our final showdown. I turn to the side as Mad Adric lunges once more, feeling the heat he's emitting as he passes. I bring up my sword trying to catch him, but am met with equal force from his guitar. We hold there for a moment, struggling to force the other back, then withdraw in an instant.

I drop low and swing wide. The ChaosBard jumps over my attack and comes down with force, slamming his weapon into the space I occupied mere seconds ago. Already on the move, I turn once more as Adric's guitar scrapes along the ground coming up toward my torso.

I feel a few ribs crack as he makes contact. I snarl and yell, using my elbow to force away dischord. Adric smiles back at me, rounding for another strike.

I narrowly dodge to the side, then spring forward, digging my sword into his calf. He howls, letting go of the guitar and grabbing my head. In an instant, he's smashed his knee into my face and kicked me back, then pulls the blade from his leg. As I fly back, blood trailing from my mouth and nose, my hands clutch onto the head of the guitar and I pull it free. Using the momentum, I flip over and land ready to spring.

Holding onto the madman's guitar, I can feel its energy pulsing. Seeking. It wants back to Adric. I clench my fist tight around the head and a rune flashes on my hand. Instantly the guitar seems to accept me, and I lift it, ready to spring once more.

Mad Adric lunges forward and yells, swinging my sword toward my face. I bring dischord down just in time, and the two weapons spark bright as we are once again locked in stance. I take this moment to stop whistling, and smile at my opponent.

"It would appear we've once again confused roles, dear Adric."

"Makes no difference to me. So long as the fight continues, you could be the Brittish embassador and I the Queen of France."

"Well then, your highness, shall we continue?"

"Let's."

-= Cue Theme: Santa Esmeralda - Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood =-

We break. I jump back, nearing the stairs. Mad stabs forward, missing me, then runs forward, pulling the blade back to swing wide. I turn and bring dischord up at my side, catching the attack and forcing it off, then spring onto the stairs. Mad Adric comes in for another swing, relieving the banister of its lead post.

Now on the stairs, I put my back to the ChaosBard and ascend quickly then turn. Already at my back, Mad brings the blade up to catch me, but I leap, pushing off the stairs and then the wall, flipping over his back and bringing the guitar broadside against his head as I land. Without turning, Mad thrusts the sword back, nearly catching me in the shoulder. I pull dischord back and plant it in his back, shoving him forward. His momentum behind him, Mad falls onto the stairs and almost loses the sword.

Turning once more, I leap onto the banister and then down to the floor below, poised for Adric's retaliation. After a moment's pause, he comes flying over the edge, sword held high. I spring forward, and once again our weapons glance off one another. We land together, our backs to each other. A panted breath, and in an instant we both turn, locking weapons yet again. I bring my leg up, kicking out at Adric, who slides the sword down and cracks me in the shin with the hilt. I laugh, no longer held at bay, and slam the guitar into his chest. He yells, bringing the blade up once more with force, and the two weapons fly free of our hands.

I spring, my fist connecting with Mad's jaw, then feel the sensation of his own fist reaching my gut. We stumble back for a second, then move in once more. His fists locked together, he brings them down upon my back as my shoulder impacts his midsection. I lock my arms around his back and slam again as once more my back recieves the force of his blow. Mad's knee comes up, catching me in my chest and I let go, flipping back.

So close to the stairs, I use my momentum to propel off the wall and slam into Mad, shoulder to torso. He drops down and my force continues, carrying me over him as he leaps back to his feet. Hitting the ground, I roll and catch myself, then stand as suddenly Mad Adric's weight crashes into me from behind. We fly forward together, the combined weight adding to the impact force my face makes with the floor.

I feel his fingers snaking into my hair, tearing at the roots as he pulls my head back and slams it forward again. The pain is blinding as he continues.

And yet I grin. This is exactly as it should be.

Mustering my strength, I slam my hands down and force myself up. The jolt dislodges Mad Adric from my back, who lets go of my hair and falls free. I drop onto my side and kick off of my opponent, gathering distance.

Adric the Mad shakes his head and stands, then drops into a feral position of attack. Regaining my compsure, I stand and wipe at the mess of my face, tossing my hair back over my shoulder.

Adric smirks, growling as he laughs. "You have a little something in your teeth."

I laugh, cracking my neck and dropping into an equal posture. "That would be victory, dear Adric. And it tastes sweet."

"Looks like it's time to steal the other dog's bone, then."

He springs.


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PostPosted: Fri Jan 16, 2004 12:51 am 
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-= Cue Theme: Tool - Lateralus =-

Quote:
Opening the door to the cockpit, the simian leaped out of the machine's head and carefully climbed down the back of the body. Before he could reach the door to the engine compartment, however, the mech opened its mouth and let out a bestial roar. It twisted its torso rapidly, causing Icy to fly off the machine's back and into a nearby rock crag. With his simian reflexes, he managed to land on his feet at the edge of the escarpment.

"Nothing's as it seems in this world," Icy thought to himself. "I should have known better."

He had barely regained his balance when he saw the WoP's hammer coming towards him.


Black then

Icy leaped off the boulder just in time to avoid the descending hammer.

white are

The rock shattered under the force of the mech's blow.

all I see

The simian scrambled wildly away from the mech. "Dammit, I wish I still had my BFRG with me."

in my infancy.

The mech lifted up its other hand, preparing to strike.

red and yellow then came to be,

Looking behind him, Icy noticed that large amounts of smoke and steam were escaping from the cracks in the mech's armor. "Is it malfunctioning or something?"

reaching out to me.

The machine's other hand came down upon the monkey, who barely managed to escape between the WoP's outstretched fingers.

lets me see.

The impact of the arm with the mountain caused the mech's armor to crack.

As below, so above and beyond, I imagine

The armor broke off to reveal a flaming, clawed hand underneath.

drawn beyond the lines of reason.

"What the fuck?"

Push the envelope. Watch it bend.

The mech - or whatever this thing was - grabbed a large boulder that was laying nearby. It stood still for a second, staring at the simian who was crouching on a crag several hundred feet away.

Over thinking, over analyzing separates the body from the mind.

"I'm beginning to doubt that this thing is even the WoP. But then... what is it?"

Withering my intuition, missing opportunities and I must

All of a sudden, the mech flung the giant boulder at Icy, disturbing his reverie and catching him off guard.

Feed my will to feel my moment drawing way outside the lines.

Icy barely managed to deflect the boulder by creating a wall of ice between him and it.

***

Black then white are all I see in my infancy.

The mech charged at him.

red and yellow then came to be, reaching out to me.

Icy leaped with simian grace from boulder to boulder, trying desperately to escape the mech.

lets me see

He searched desperately for somewhere to hide or a tunnel to escape through; he knew there was no way he could possibly outrun the mech.

there is so much more and beckons me to look through to these infinite possibilities.

Finding a thin crack within the mountain, Icy rushed into it, forcing himself through the crevice into a small cave.

As below, so above and beyond, I imagine

There he waited. The thing-he-had-thought-was-his-mech approached.

drawn outside the lines of reason.

He knew he couldn't stay here forever, and he knew the mech would eventually be able to force him out of here, but at least he had time now to figure out what was going on.

Push the envelope. Watch it bend.

The creature's face appeared outside the crevice. It looked inside with one of its eyes - eyes which were different than they had been minutes earlier. In place of the expressionless sensors of the WoP were what looked to be the fiery flaming eyes of a demon.

Over thinking, over analyzing separates the body from the mind.

"This thing was never my mech," Icy realized. "It was... something else. And now it's revealing itself."

Withering my intuition leaving all these opportunities behind.

"...Fold. Fold put that thing at the top of the pyramid where I found it. It was a decoy."

Feed my will to feel this moment urging me to cross the line.

The creature lifted up its still-mechanical hammer-wielding right arm.

Reaching out to embrace the random.

The hammer came down.

Reaching out to embrace whatever may come.

The walls, the ceiling, all the rock around Icy shattered. The monkey barely managed to dodge the hammer and the debris, flying out of the gaping hole created.

***

I embrace my desire to
feel the rhythm, to feel connected


Icy knew he wouldn't be able to run forever. He turned to face the creature. It grabbed him with its fiery hand.

enough to step aside and weep like a widow

The flames seared Icy's flesh. The monkey's powers both protected him and made him vulnerable to fire. He was more sensitive to it than the average human; however, because he had the ability to lower temperature, he could hold off more severe burning, at least temporarily. Nevertheless, the pain was indescribable.

to feel inspired,

With intense concentration, Icy managed to excude spikes of ice from his body, wounding the creature and causing it to drop the simian.

to fathom the power,

Something about the creature gave Icy a strange feeling. The feeling had been there, on some level, since he had first gotten into what he had thought was his mech, but it had only really risen to his consciousness just now, after being in direct contact with the beast.

to witness the beauty,

They were connected somehow.

to bathe in the fountain,

He had to destroy it.

to swing on the spiral

Giant spikes of ice rose up out of the rock beneath the creature, entwining together to trap it in a sort of cage. None of the spikes could pierce the fiery beast, however; they melted upon contact. It soon shattered its prison as well, with one swing of the hammer.

of our divinity

Suddenly, the creature sprouted wings of fire, as well as a long tail of flame. It now looked strange, to say the least. Half of it still resembled the Wrath of the Proletariat, but the other half appeared to be some sort of... fire demon.

and still be a human.

"The fire mage. That thing has the fire crystal inside it. Fuck!"

***

With my feet upon the ground I lose myself between the sounds

The creature was still several hundred feet away. Icy concentrated he examined it thoroughly.

and open wide to suck it in, I feel it move across my skin.

He could feel it. He could feel the crystal inside it.

I'm reaching up and reaching out,

He leaped toward the creature. No, running wouldn't help anymore.

I'm reaching for the random or

The firebeast and he met in the middle. Icy leaped up onto the creature's leg.

what ever will bewilder me.

The ladder leading up the monster's leg to the back and into the cockpit was still intact.

And following

He clambered swiftly up the rungs and into the cockpit.

our will and wind

The cockpit was sweltering hot. Icy could barely stand it. He pushed every single button he could find, pulled every lever, tried to initiate the self-destruct mechanism, all to no avail.

we may just go

Icy continued to weaken. The cockpit must have been over 150 degrees Fahrenheit. However, something inside him still clung to life.

where no one's been.

It was the crystal. He could feel it pulsating deep within his chest. He knew his destiny. He had read the scrolls. He knew what he had to do. He had to destroy the fire demon, and the fire demon had to destroy him.

We'll ride the spiral to the end

He hadn't thought it would end this way. He thought Fold would have the fire crystal. He thought he could have a shot at Fold. He thought he could fulfill his destiny and avenge his fallen expatriates in one action. He didn't want this. He didn't want it to end this way. But it had to. He was not in charge of his fate; his watcher was. He had accepted this. It was the way of things. The end had come, and he must fulfill his role, his purpose.

and may just go

He clawed at his chest. The pulsing of the crystal was now too much for him. It seemed to be forcing its way out... out of his body. It left a gaping wound in his heart. Suddenly, it popped out of his chest and into his hands.

where no one's been.

His body fell lifelessly to the ground. His mind was no longer in the simian husk that was still clutching feebly to the crystal; his consciousness had been transferred to the gemstone itself. Without a body to trouble him, he could simply concentrate on destroying the beast with pure magical energy.

Frost slowly accumulated around the crystal, condensing and crystallizing despite the excruciating heat of the surrounding environment. The growth of the ice around it was hardly noticeable at first, but the large, hailstone-like formation began to expand with increasing rapidity. After several minutes it took up the entire cockpit.

Spiral out.

The ice slowly spread outside. To the creature's dismay, frost began to flow across its face, down its neck, onto its shoulders. Fire and the ice fought upon the creature's body.

Keep going.

Meanwhile, a crack appeared in the armor of the beast's chest, caused by the ice. The frost seemed to be tunneling, cutting through the mech-doppelganger's torso. It was seeking something.

Spiral out.

The doppelganger's chest ripped wide open, revealing the red crystal buried deep inside its heart. The frost enveloped the firestone.

Keep going.

At the moment the ice came into contact with the fire gem, Icy could feel it. His mind was buried deep within the ice stone now, and he could not see, hear, smell, or taste anything, but still he could feel the crystal's firey presence even in the darkness.

Spiral out.

Now it was there, enveloping him, and he it. Fire and ice. Hot and cold. White and black. Yang and Yin. Evil and good. Hell and Heaven. Dionysian and Appolinian. The two forces in tension. This was not a battle between hostile enemies so much as mutual annihilation, a kind of cancelling out of opposite energies.

Keep going...

Icy felt his consciousness fading. His incredibly complex mind was disassembling slowly, starting with his higher faculties and working its way down. He lost his mathematical precision, his calculating abilities. He lost his scientific knowledge. He lost his literary wisdom. His memories slowly faded, became less defined, less vivid. His consciousness descended down from its superhuman heights into the human, and then subhuman level. His mind reverted to the simplicity of its former simian state.

This was, in the end, all he had really wanted: to go back to his natural state, before the hyperspace experiments, when he was a simple simian. His intelligence was a burden. He was never meant to have it. However, even this blissful state of animal innocence would not last for long. The last remnants of his mind continued to dissolve into darkness.

Spiral out, keep going...

In the end, he was left with only the vague memory of two people, Rand and Fold, the two men whose fates had occupied his mind almost since this road trip (if one could still call it that) began, though for drastically different reasons. Then, finally, there was only darkness. Death. IcyMonkey was gone.

_________________
~*Pope Buttsexius X of the Krystian Church, Member of the Posse of Pedantic Pseudo-Intellectuals, Official Historian and Grand High Poobah of Flattery in the Court of Unfounded Speculation, and founder of the Cult of Godless Commie Traitors*~


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