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+--- Thread: Summon, or She Dies. (/showthread.php?tid=5149)
Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 09-15-2016
Villains come in all shapes and sizes, but yeah, usually they’re simple and usually, they’re killable. Christa fell through the portal leading to the other world with heavy thoughts adding pressure to the sole of her boots. The taste of war never left this woman’s tongue, and always found its way back to her, for it, she had compromised happiness and sacrificed life. For it, she had lost herself, and forged a new one. She would never be free of it, even in death.
Last she could remember, was Karl Jak, Red, and Abner. Each one a priority, neither, her priority, at least yet. Karl Jak was the closest thing she had to a nemesis, but even then, he’d made good on his word. Red, her partner, a talking red panther that had saved her life. And Abner, well, he doesn’t get a definition yet. All of them were like her sister, MIA. Somehow, it seemed like that was all it would ever be.
Clouds filled her thoughts as Christa stepped into an ocean-tasting air, and fog filled her vision. Quite literally, as though it had been stacked on bricks, she couldn’t see an inch past her nose, and she looked, twice. This was bad news, since she was rather unfamiliar with this verse already. While she had enough sense to not walk into a wall, she wouldn’t even know how close she was to the ocean unless she sliced through the noise pollution and listened to the tide of the waves. All she heard now was the wind and some faint murmuring.
“Is there someone there?” Christa called out to the ominous darkness, tainted by the smoky mist.
“No,” a voice answered, and another voice tittered.
There was single footfall ten feet away, it chimed loudly in her ears and she pinpointed it, turned on a dime, and slammed into the figure with all her force. His shoulder bones painfully met a wall, and his friend’s eyes widened, dazed and confused, and stinking like booze. The man who’s shirt she had bundled in her hands, stared forward, his eyes blank of fear, but behind them, his thoughts were swimming.
“Lissssten lady I don’t want any trouble, I’s just seein’ if my friend Jimbo over here was ratin’ you a five or a siz.” The man was on drugs, or something. It only stood to reason that Omniverse had to be full of them, since the market was surely fresh. Christa couldn’t help but think she was trapped in another void, it was night, it was dark, and things were practically materializing themselves in the fog.
“Is this the Vastly Deep, or have I taken a wrong turn? What day is it?” she gave him a very gentle shake, which left him quivering in his bones. Luckily, Jimbo over there, stayed silent, as well as non-violent. This made the negotiation easy.
“No, thisss izz the Ommmy-verse, mizz. Today is January... January...Tenth, nineteen-forty-two,” the man hiccuped, “Friday! Today’s my birthday.”
Christa’s grip loosened. This was going less than nowhere, fast. Jimbo responded, “Oh happy birthday, Larry! Care for another swig? How’s the wife?”
“She’zz dead, Jimbo, jus’ like the rest of ‘em, but I’m still alive... Right?” they clinked glasses, and Christa found inklings of truth in their words.
“Listen, I just need to know-”
“Wooaaahhh there missy, jusss take it easy. You don’t need nothin’ you just think you do,” the man tapped his forehead, where wrinkles suddenly appeared. “Jimbo, give me another swig, I want this to happen quick!”
“Want... What to happen?” she couldn’t help but to ask, and her head turned to see Jimbo, who suddenly was cloaked in a long, black robe. In his hand, a scythe steadied. Christa backed up immediately, not sure what she was witnessing.
Jimbo didn’t speak, but another vial was given. Larry slurped it up, laughing as he did, until he used the balance of the wall to slide to the ground. Behind his eyelids, memories swarmed faster than bees. Still, he managed to speak through the drug, “Ssssweet, sssweet endingz, m’ dear. I wanted an ending... That I never gott to have.”
And those, were Larry’s last words, before his entire face wilted into wrinkles, his hair grew out past his shoulders until they too, curled upon the cement ground, and his skin became spotted with brown and shriveled up to his bones. Christa gasped, the terror in the man’s eyes compromised the smile that held on his decaying, withered lips. The Prime turned to the black figure, his face was now cloaked in shadow and for some reason, Christa couldn’t remember any distinctive features of his face. She gulped.
The figure stepped forward, to the live one in his presence. She stepped back. His gaze, though invisible, looked at her feet and read her actions. “Who are you?” she asked the most obvious question.
“Who are... you?” it answered slyly. In one hand, she saw the scythe, framed in dark cloud, in the other, it was hidden, like her future and fate. The choice, hers.
“I won’t give you any money, you can’t kill me like you did him.” she declared, calmly.
“He.... Assssked.” The voice slithered.
She blinked, and took another look at the man, she had seen the life taken from him in a way that seemed so... so similar. Then she remembered, through the confusion of her thoughts, “You are from the Pale Moors, aren’t you?”
“I am from here, I am always where I stand, and those who fall, ask me to live so that others too, can have their choice,” the figure’s words hissed at the end.
“You take the whims of cowards and call it granting their wish. I should kill you, for their lack of judgement. And to make sure what I just witnessed never happens again.” Christa pulled out her sniper, and loaded one in its chamber.
“You cannot kill the choice, I just make it easier for them.” the mysterious voice whispered.
“Living isn’t supposed to be easy,” Christa brandished her teeth.
“Living as a slave without those they love is impossible for some people. I give them rest. I give them the ending they seek,” Christa looked down at the coffin-less ending while the voice continued, festering with tranquil hatred, “I am the Story Master. You cannot kill me, I was created by them.”
Then the dark figure’s cloak was gusted by wind and Christa fired as it charged at her. Suddenly she was tangled in it, every second she struggled as she fought the dark cloth, expecting too soon, to feel the cold glint of the scythe on her neck. She dropped her sniper and pulled the fabric away from her face, only to find it was empty. A laughter filled the fog followed by the words: “I am the wind.”
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 09-30-2016
Christa was sure she wasn’t tripping, but so much of this tasted like a flashback. She couldn’t tell if what she had witnessed was reality, or a figment of truth, or an absolute lie. Maybe Omni thought he was funny, even. In the void, it was endlessly black, and things emerged from virtually nothing. It was the epitome of Omni’s sandbox. Here though, everything was clouded, she could’ve been trapped in her own mind, for all she knew, and the previous occurrence, just an illusion, or something her own mind had conjured up, in order for her consciousness to evade the truth.
Somehow, it was hard to say. Her heart was thumping loudly out of fear, and her footsteps were gradually becoming soundless as she ran in a random direction. This was supposed to be the verse with the Goddamned ocean, wasn’t it? So where the Hell was it?
The blonde tore on, ripping the low lying fog as her solid form cut through the intangible. Swarms and clumps of white clouded her vision, so much so that even her thoughts grew murky. Worry for her sister, Katia, swelled in her heart, while the thrills of anxiety sped up the tune of her heart. The pounding sound of her heartbeat mixed with her breathing trapped her ears, and Christa, before she knew it, was standing still, surrounded by the shady labyrinth of fog.
Adversity showed itself in ways she couldn’t even imagine, ever since she was small. Each time she encountered it, she got stronger, and her heart, hardened. When the Empire had captured her, she was tortured, or told to do the deed. Then they had tried to clone her, and as if they hadn’t done enough, finally, she agreed to train. Seeking any escape from the eternal torture methods they had tried on her, each, worse than the last, but the worst of all, had been her own mistake, just prior to her capture.
Katia... Dear God, let her be alive.
Christa tasted the dew on her tongue, and sprouting before her eyes were a few strands of her blonde hair, reminding her of her present reality. Oh, she was a mangy mess, on a mission which extra time could not be afforded, yet, she had found the time to get trapped on an island and die there, all this, searching for some nameless little girl... Maybe there was a metaphor in all that, but Christa couldn’t really give a damn. She just wanted her sister.
A sigh left her.
Another.
Once and for all, her lungs heaved more air in, as Christa who could not blow away all the fog, at least tried to clear her head. In her back pocket, she touched a cell phone, the screen immediately was drizzled with drops from the fog and the blonde played around, finally hesitating with her finger on the dial button, as the screen showed a selected “Abner White.”
No. She told herself, and placed the phone where she had gotten it. This is not his battle, it’s mine.
The blonde strode off choosing forward as her best direction, and was greeted by the soft sound of murmuring waves.
The instant her feet hit the soft padding of sand, the sniper was relieved. She could’ve rolled in it, kissed the ground as she rejoiced. Finally she was here. She pressed on until she could see the cold waves fill her shoes and stain the ground below her feet.
So what now? She asked herself as she picked a direction, going left, hoping it would lead her up the coastline until she ventured into town or to a dock. It was still the depths of night, and the bitter chill of the ocean breeze nibbled on the corners of her numbed cheeks. She felt nothing but determination to slay the villain who had wronged her. But she couldn’t just summon a boat and go sailing! This is one of the largest verses around! It could take years! She needed someone with experience. Maybe she could summon one of those, but Christa always had mixed feelings when summoning anything with a heartbeat.
On one hand, if she summoned someone to endure this life of hell, she could always kill them, and they would never backstab her or seek anything other than to serve. On the other hand, Christa did not want to be responsible for any more unnecessary pain. If she hired someone, she’d have to wait until dawn, which was two to three hours away, and they might get her lost simply out of human error anyway. Choices, choices.
Not another wave passed under her feet, icy like shards of glass stealing the last sensations of her toes as she held out her hand, and focused on a shimmering orb of Omnillium, that would soon resemble a face.
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 12-22-2016
“I fucking hate robots,” she said as the plated silver of a human-like machine finally took the shape of a tall, skinless android with two small white lights for eyes, a streamlined definition of metallic parts, and an expressionless face. For a mouth, it had a black slit that did not light up when it spoke, “And now look who I’m stuck with, I don’t have Abner, I don’t have Isaac, I don’t have Red. I have you though, don’t I, Mister Metal? If you don’t do your fucking job, I’m sending you to the scrapheap. Is that clear?”
Christa’s head tilted, her silver eyes became slits, and her head cocked in an intimidating way, which, as she had programmed the robot to be less aware of human and society’s moral laws, the robot had no idea of the threat laden in her voice. “Affirmative,” the bot said in a scrawny but mechanical voice, “Systems waiting for the objective.”
“I need you, to scan my face, and find my sister. She’s in this verse. She’s been kidnapped, and I was a fool to believe I could... Do it alone,” her eyebrows came together and formed a weakened fret, “You were created with the best maps of this verse, all computed in your head, so I’ll have to have you find her. But first, I need to stop at the house of an old friend.”
The robot scanned her face by allowing a light to shoot out of his eye, it streamed through the dark night in blue and white hues, “Analysis complete,” the droid said and then stated, “Her face has been documented and linked into my mainframe system, I’m computing the algorithms of where she could be, her last sighting was at the school, would you like to start from there Miss Adams?”
“You... Don’t already have her fixed location in your navigation system?” Christa sassed angrily.
“In order for me to have her location, I would have needed you to have created me with that location,” the bot lifelessly said.
“Shit. Well, she’s not a Prime either, or else I could go dealing with some of the shop-keepers, let’s see... Damn it... Do you think... Damn it, you don’t think, do you?” Christa contemplated her options, which looked like next to nil, “Shit, well, we go to my friend’s house first, then the school, then... We take it from there and perhaps we’ll get a phone call.”
“A call, Miss Adams?” the voice asked in its usual monotone, but with curiosity in the nonexistent undertones of the lifeless bot.
“A call from the guy who kidnapped her. Damn, I leave for one mission. Is there something fucking wrong with me? Can’t I have my sister live a normal life while I’m off... Being myself? Piece of Metal,” she didn’t think naming the droid that she was going to destroy at the end of this was necessary, “You need to tell me, can a woman not have a man in her life, a career, and a family?”
“My observations point to no, I was programmed with - (“Cut the shit, I know, I programmed you,)- the basic knowledge of human interaction, but I do have an entire database for certain magazines and encyclopedias on file. . . Upon searching, the signs lead to no. Either the child turns out to be insurgent, or the husband cheats, or your career becomes obsolete or worthless. And if you do choose family and relations over career, you have a sixty-percent probability with dealing with some sort of depression, as well as-”
“That’s enough,” Christa sighed and they walked in silence, her own human footfalls being drowned by the sound of a tall, mechanic beast’s joints pressing and propelling itself across the cobblestone streets.
“Do you think you can use my phone to trace the call?” she asked after about twenty minutes of darkness. They were nearing the school, and dawn was soon approaching.
“I can attempt it,” the bot said curtly, “Are you going to break into the school? Because I am responsible enough to remind you that there is a high percentage of being caught, and breaking into a-”
“Cram it, if you know we could get caught easily, you should know that silence is one thing that’ll help my strategy. Now, I’m going to walk in, like I’m a teacher getting there early to grade some tests or something. I’ll need to summon some papers and a pair of glasses to go with the disguise,” Christa smiled and wondered if she could pull off the teacher-look. She liked to believe she could have been anything she wanted, but was burdened with the life of a first-class sniper.
“Excuse me Miss Adams, you weren’t planning on entering the school with that big blood stain on your shirt, were you?” the bot’s ball-in-silver-joint hand pointed its index finger at some splashes on her abdomen.
“Oh...” she smiled, feeling a warm flush to her cheeks, before remembering that robots couldn’t feel, nor judge, “You’re right, I need to change.”
...
Upon her nose, were a pair of studious looking glasses with frames trim at the center, and wide at the corners. Her hair was contained in a tangled bun and pieces of her blonde hair was spitting out around her ears. Wrapped around her shoulders was a sweater of all things, for Metal said that teachers had a homely looking sense of style, and Christa’s job was to blend. It was bright red and holiday themed, with a reindeer on the front, as well as a few snowflakes in the backround. Metal informed her it was a ‘seasonal human thing’ as well as a “must-have” for their operation, but Christa could’ve sworn that robot was smugly laughing at her as she waltzed in, keys-in-hand, into the school.
She went straight to the office, and was searching through the files labeled “attendance records” when she heard giggling in the office across from her. The door was closed, the lights were off, but Christa was sure she wasn’t imagining it. After finding her file, she analyzed it. Her sister hadn’t been seen in weeks that turned into a few months. It was scary, to think she’d been away for so long, dicking around with the BIGGEST DICK, good ol’ Karl, instead of finding Katia. The prime hid the file below the rest of her fake pre-graded tests, hoping to have her robot analyze it later, and gently shut the door behind her. That was when another office door gently opened, revealing two people, giggling and one woman scrambling to put her clothes on.
Her eyes widened, and she quickly looked away, but her legs hadn’t strode off yet. “Ohhh mmyyy!” the giggling woman said in shock as she had been spotted. Clumps of fabric had been gathered over her torso, and her legs had been covered in basic jeans. It was simple enough to figure out, this woman was having some fun before school started. Christa didn’t need to dwell and blurted out, “I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING!!!!”
That was when a man came around he was gaunt, perpetually white, and used his boney hand to move open the door even more, “That’s exactly what someone who had seen something, would say,” his eye were black, his hair, just as dark, and his lips had formed into a prideful smile, rather than that of an embarrassed employee. In fact, as Christa found herself but inches from his face, he looked like he was brimming with triumph, and not in that after-sex glow kind of way.
He was also not wearing pants, and made no effort to hide it. Christa, keen marksman with expert eyesight had frozen like a deer-in-the-headlights. She looked away, and back at the woman, “I’m very sorry-”
“Oh, don’t be,” he had said. He gave her the creeps and would not move his eyes from her. Like he was imagining her naked, but worse, like he was reading her mind.
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 12-22-2016
“Well, that was awkward, and I’ve got some thick skin, held my brothers on the battlefield as the took their last,” she complained to the robot, “I walked in... Or... Kind of walked in, on two people having an affair in there. And the guy, he was very, very strange, and wouldn’t stop looking at me! I’m sure he was in fucking shock or something, or maybe I still am but-”
The robot interrupted, using his ‘magazine resources’ to better understand her, “Were you, perhaps, attracted to him?”
“WHAT?! I program you to find my sister and you ask trivial questions like that?” Christa shouted, loud enough for the whole street to hear her, and then found herself reddening, at the idea of a certain ex-storm trooper in the same position.
“I was merely asking, based on your reaction, you seem to need to talk to someone about the ordeal,” his monotone was scraping in her ears like claws on a chalkboard.
“Ordeal? You think that just because I walked in on that-” she huffed, “Are you implying I have nothing better do do with my time than to... UGH this is why I hate robots. Metal, you’re a piece of scrap I summoned to find my sister, and so far, you said there was no information linking to the time she was last seen from school. Next we’re going to the family’s house where she was staying, I’d trust this woman with my life, which is why I let my sister stay... with...”
The sniper’s voice trailed, as she looked at the charred mess on the ground, it was weeks old, if not longer. There wasn’t much left of the white paneled house that was stood tall, still lingering like a fond scent, in Christa’s mind. Her blue eyes darted around, searching for clues, “This is.. It was here, robot! Search the newspaper articles immediately! I need to find out what happened.”
“Here it is,” the bot said tonelessly, “April second, of this year,” Christa nodded, noting that it was now August, “House fire, number six-six-two-five Pelican Street, no known survivors, apparently it was caused by some sort of gas leak. In the same paper is the obituary of the family that lived at the house.”
“Oh... Dear,” her breath left in a sad mournful gasp, for the friends she had condemned to death, just by knowing them, “Katia had last been to school on... February eighteenth. That doesn’t... Add up, does it Bot?” Christa frowned, “Damn, this trail we’re following is months old. I should call Karl and demand to know where in the Deeps, but don’t you think he would’ve fucking told me if he was gonna share that fuckin’ information? No, the answer is no, because he likes to watch me suffer, probably thinks I’ll grow or something. Immortal bastard. I’ll show him. Mother fucking son of a bitch. Listen Metal Bot, you better have an idea of where we should go, or else I’ll have to get a fortune teller or something.”
“A fortune teller? Aren’t most of them liars only in that business for profit?” the bot said, his voicebox, lifeless.
“You wouldn’t understand the supernatural world, but I have proof that it has worked in the past. But I think the last one in Costa was killed some time ago by a gang looking to get their money back. Apparently she’d predicted correctly, but no matter what the guy did, he died anyway. His friends came looking for her and you’d think she’d have seen that coming. Anyway, listen Bot, I think I have an idea, but I have to call my friend. Meanwhile, I need you to get us a boat, we’re going to set sail.”
...
“You’re back?” the voice said over the phone, “What was it like on the island? Also, I took care of your wolf for you, he misses his friend and master. But now, I know why you’re calling, and this was the right move. I was waiting. I have to warn you,” Christa listened intently to her elven friend, who was on the other line, she had met him in the Pale Moors, where she had shot herself in the head in order to make it to Dante’s Abyss, where she was supposed to find her kidnapper a gift in order to exchange Katia. That hadn’t happened, and here she was, tracking down Katia instead, and groveling in her mistake.
“I see it didn’t go as well as planned,” Christa also didn’t have to say a thing on this call, because her elven friend was telepathic, as well as attuned to the spiritual world, whatever that meant. “But that was just a dead end anyway, no offense. What I can tell you, is that you’re going to die, as far as I know, don’t worry, you’re still a Prime, you’ll return but your heart is going to be ripped out, Gods... What kind of monster are you dealing with here? Christa... I... This is... Very bad. This man, he’s evil, a monster, if it wasn’t your sister, I’d say... Not to get involved, but you have no choice, do you? Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to dampen the mood. Well, I’ll try my best. Listen, kid, if anything happens, I’m on the first boat out there with you. But if I joined your endeavor, I fear I would die as well. Christa, this is too dangerous, you need to-”
“-What, arm myself? Bring every explosive in the book?” Christa’s heart leapt, and she was almost excited at the challenge, every warrior liked one, especially when there was something this important to lose.
“No, that won’t be enough, in fact, I think you misunderstand the kind of danger you’re dealing with. This man... He’s...chhhhhh-” static filled the station, “And if you don’t- chhhhhh it isn’t just your life on the line, but your mind, chhhh now in order to find him chhhhhh you must follow the compass north, and then at the tenth island you pass, take a lefff- chhhhhh it is hidden chhhh Christa? Christa? Are-you-still-there? chhhhhGood luck, my friend.”
The static had ended, and the line was dead.
It took all her strength not to throw the cellular device on the ground and mash it to bits, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”
“Miss Adams, are you alright?” the bot sauntered back into her life, causing her anger to overflow. She threw down her fake glasses and mashed the lenses with the toe of her combat boot, cursing every other word. “If he was psychic, did he not know that was going to happen?” Christa scowled. “Perhaps you are better off not knowing what you face.”
“He told me, that any amount of weapons and ammo I bring, it won’t be enough. Do you think that means I can’t beat the man who kidnapped my sister?” Great, now I’m asking the damn robot what he thinks.
“If I evaluate the enemy’s so far, very good job at erasing his tracks, I have to come to the deduction that he is a man very capable in his field of study, which seems to be, in my opinion, deception, as well as strategy. I cannot determine what his goal is, as I am not human, nor can I compute the ideals of human desire, however, I can say, if your elf says you can’t bring enough firepower, that you should strategize how much you are going to bring. Oh, miss, I forgot to mention, I found us a boat.”
“Robots can’t forget,” she grumbled and followed him to their new vessel, which looked like a hunk of junk, “Come on, you couldn’t have found us a better boat?”
“This captain said he’d take us where we needed to go for free,” the bot said calculatingly.
“Listen, I have money, what I don’t have, is the time to get shipwrecked, or lost or whatever. And also Metal Bot, no one does anything for free. What’s in it for him?” Christa asked, and then neared the Captain, who looked like he had a screw loose. She facepalmed and it left a bright red patch in the middle of her forehead, as she neared the captain who wore overalls with one entire leg missing and bare, an overcoat that was much to big considering that today the skies were fair, and he was missing all his teeth to scurvy, as well as his right eye was clear blue, and blind.
“Oh ho! Welcome aboard missy! You must be this ‘ere robot’s master, aren’t ye? Well, the weather is great for sailin’ today, aye, you picked a fine day, to board me ol’ ship. Your robot here says you don’t like most folk, but I think I’ll change your mind. Do you know where you’re sailing to today? Also, oh! My name is Mcgee. You can call me Mac if you like, or Gee. Or Mcgee, yes, my name siree, is Captain Mcgee!!!”
His accent was ecstatic, and he sounded like an old loon, Christa nodded while her eye twitched, “My... Companion here will take care of the navigation, you sure you don’t want to stay here on dry land while we use your vessel? I can’t promise you a safe return.”
“Why... Sure ye can, yer a prime ain’cha? You can summon me back in my fittest state, imagine me! Back in my twenties again! If I die on yer mission you’ll bring me back, that’s why I offered me services, yes it is!!!”
“Kill me,” Christa muttered, and her bot’s arm formed into a gun and pressed against her temple, “Ugh, not literally, if you fucking kill me after I came this far...”
“Golly miss, you seem to be in the dumps, how can I cheer ye up?” the captain looked at her with his good eye and grinned a toothless grin, which revealed his black gums.
“You can set sail.”
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 01-18-2017
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh it’s a pirates life for meeeee!” McGee sang out of tune for the umpteenth time and Christa was past the point of rubbing her aching temples for clarity. “Yo hoooo, yo hooo!”
“Is there... Any chance... I could get some quiet? I’d like to rest or at least think, before we get there,” she asked, and the captain nodded his head in an agreement that would only last five minutes. The sniper considered drowning herself in the ocean a few feet below.
“I have to summon some weapons. Do you want any food, Captain McGee?” maybe if he did, he’d shut up at least as she made it, “I can make you-”
“POISON!!!!!” he shrieked and Christa was almost so flustered she nearly fell overboard, “POISON! Only evil beings eat the food made out of Ommmmmmmiillliiiumm! I can’ even imagine injestin’ that, I’d die!”
“Should I inform him that his body is made out of Omnilium as well as the land that grows his food?” Bot asked her quietly.
Christa pondered this, imagining him jumping overboard, or pressing the self-destruct button on the ship, “No, I suppose not, never know what he might do. Best to let him dream.”
“Are you hungry, Miss Adams?” her machine asked, and she glared at him.
“I’m hungry for some peace and quiet, we’re close to my sister, I can feel it, how is our progress on navigating, you got his directions, right? It was a little muffled but he said we have to pass ten islands before taking a left, and this is while we are going north. Right?” Christa sighed and looked down at her hands, avoiding the sight of the new horizon and the rising sun. “How long will it take?”
“According to my calculations, at the rate we are going, it will take us three days.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she growled.
“No no, I’m really Captain McGee! Hehe!” the senile captain giggled at his rhyme.
Christa held her head in her hands, “UGH, just tell me when we’ve passed the last island.”
...
The onset of wind, waves, and the vast width of the empty ocean came and passed with each rising moon. The weather had been on their side, for not even a drop of rain had dared to stamp their ship with its mark. Instead, the time ebbed and flowed with McGee’s ferocious snoring. That old man, something was seriously wrong with him, and the robot, Christa didn’t know which one was worse. The old man, she decided, but while he was snoring, he wasn’t singing, and she summoned all the weapons she could use, and many, she didn’t know if she could. The robot came with his own weapons, but if he lost a battery or something, he’d be out of commission. Christa worried about if the enemy had some way to hack into enhanced technology and eyed the machine with some skepticism. In her old world, machine and man lived side by side, and even some had personalities, all, however, weren’t trustworthy, for an enemy could recalibrate their programs in a single instant and all the information they once stored could be taken and used against her. In war, this was a death sentence, so Christa never worked with droids of any kind.
They had one pro, and that was being replaced when obsolete or dying without the cost of real life, only innovation which had been reproduced in a model form. Clones, copies, that’s all robots seemed to be, the simplicity, she liked, as well as the feather-like weight feeling on her conscience when her robot might die in this battle. Zero casualties. Far from the many she’d lost in the wars of the past, deaths of people like Katia, daughters, sisters, the only family anyone had left...
Christa sighed and looked far across the night air, out past the ocean waves and onto the moon lingering on the horizon. She wondered if she had any service to call Abner or Red, but quickly shook away the notion. Hoonnnnnkkkk--gsshhh Mcgee snored, but Christa was too busy warring with herself to bother tipping the captain overboard... For now.
The robot was staring at her, with his bright flashlights for eyes, finally, upon reading her weary expression, he asked, “Are you alright, Christa?”
“Excuse me? Aren’t you supposed to say asking those things are obsolete, just like my petty human emotions?” Christa whipped back.
“Well, they are why we’re here, aren’t they?” the bot wagered, matter-of-factly.
Christa bit her lip, and looked back out to the ocean, so vast and wide and kissing the edges of the horizon with the shine of moonlight. She thought of all she had, which wasn’t much, but spanning throughout her life, she’d had a family, a job, a sister when her family died, a platoon who respected her, with her enemies had come more friends, a dog even, more experiences... And still, more setbacks.
Immortality.
One of the many things Katia didn’t have, she should’ve asked Omni, but was... Thrilled, stupefied beyond means to have met him in the first place. This place, she wasn’t sure she belonged anymore. Everything she’d done was a fuck up, almost. Pity, too, there were possibilities here. Abner, Darkshire, a decent sense of community at least in some places, and well, rebellion, which the sniper always liked the taste of. Still, what was the point of it all? Death would come to her eventually, but now, it just had to be delivered in a certain way, and the talk of banishment to this place’s Hell? Seems like a bad place to spend immortality. Without all of the things she had just previously considered.
It all meant nothing without her sister, so why had Christa left her in the first place? Delusion, false-hope, those things that pansies get just before they run into no-man’s-land and don’t come back. Fake everything, fake reason to live, fake reason to die, fake reason to die for a country or nation that had sent them there in the first place. It left her bitter, and unmoved, and then there was that ghost, called itself a reaper or something and promised to get her, well, Christa wasn’t one to back down to a challenge, but she might have to be, if Katia made it through. No more battling, no more risks, it was time to fill those categories with sacrifices that families make. Proof of -no- just simply, to show Katia what importance she had, at least, in her sister’s world.
You look like you’re drowning, Christa heard a whisper, which pulled her out of her sisterly sorrows, her eyes darted across the small, empty boat, “Did you hear that?” she asked to bot, and looked suspiciously at Mcgee, who was still sleeping.
“He’s been snoring for approximately six hours and forty-nine minutes, yes, I hear him,” the bot incorporated some sass, which Christa cut through.
“No, there was a voice,” Christa was determined, “Scan the vessel for lifeforms now, as well as any frequencies that can carry a thought.”
The scans were complete, and “Inconclusive,” he informed her.
“No, I’m sure I heard something, ugh, you probably need a new hard-drive or something, I didn’t make you to track down things like this, you’re sure you didn’t hear it?” She looked at the steel bot, of course he hadn’t, it hadn’t been a sound but some sort of thought.
“You should get some rest, we’re almost there, you want to be on top of your game when we face your sister’s captors,” the bot lifelessly warned.
“I know what I heart, you’re just not alive, so you didn’t hear it, no, we’re in danger, very bad danger...” Christa stood up, and readied her rifle in her hands, just as she did, the entire boat checked, and the Prime was thrown to the boat’s deck. Her skull slammed into a hard rod, meant to do something with the anchor, while in the dim back round noises, she heard a man scream.
Well, it wasn’t the robot, logic deduced and Christa forced herself up and with the gust of pressure her head spun, rattling the winds of reality and illusion. She fervently blinked this away, and the robot had been adjusting himself too, but had gone over to the captain who was still in his bunk. By the way the bot’s head turned at her, it was almost grim, in the droid’s metallic hands, lay the captain’s cold, lifeless body.
“He’s dead,” her conclusion confirmed by the bot’s emotionless confirmation.
“How, how did he die? Did you see anything?” Christa cursed herself and blinked the pain away, trying to remember that moment, to slow it down in her mind, and perpetuate the facts, but it was all too dim, she hadn’t been looking at the captain.
“I thought I saw something, here, let me show you,” its breastplate was released and revealed a small projector, which enabled a hologram, Christa’s eyes widened, “I record everything I witness, and can analyze it through many different algorithms per second. “Analyzing now, starting playback now.”
The light projected on the deck dimly, as, she supposed, it was indeed nighttime. Perhaps that Death being had come back to steal her away, and taken the wrong man. Well, the recording, or whatever you wanted to call a playback in holographic fields, would tell. Christa leaned in closely, her nose even smudged the light, until she learned to back up a few inches.
The recording played, showing the trace outline of the deck, the bot had zoomed in on Christa’s face, little lights came from his analysis as he computed her expression, then, it changed to one that was ready to meet an enemy, she stood up, and tripped on nothing but air. The observing, non hologram gasped in surprise, she had thought the boat had collided with something, “What was that, had to be some sort of glitch right?”
The film kept playing, and she watched for the captain’s corner earnestly, without blinking. His scream played on, but nothing had woken him from his slumber, nothing had even touched him, while she saw his appendages quiver for a second, before suddenly, the life was gone, and his chest was motionless. Christa blinked, “Did he... die of natural causes? He was pretty old..”
“That would be an apt assumption, but signs point to no, something scared him to death, in his dream,” the bot spoke.
“Or, in his mind.”
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 02-07-2017
There is a time before a battle, when the stomach clenches and your eyes fix on an opponent who could bring you or your platoon immediate, or slow death. This was a battle not for life, but for her sister's. Defeat was not an option, yet, there was an eeriness in the air so pungent, even the bull-headed prime Christa could taste it. Her blood stilled as her eyes fixed on the island that they knew to be a guise. This was it. Her moment, everything would change, but would it be for the worse or for the better? How hard Christa would fight would not only determine the fate of her sister, but anyone else this vile shithead had impacted. Christa had made up her mind, targeting her blood thirst on her vision of the man who took her. She had chosen, with the clutch of her whitening knuckles, never again, would this man's evil haunt this world. She hoped he was a secondary, if not only to end his life once and for all.
The boat chugged slowly to their destination while Christa hefted her weapon-filled bags over her shoulder, "This is it, we're here. She's here. There might be more than one enemy, Bot, and should you, er, permanently shut down during this battle, let's hope you saved your best for last. You will do what you're here for, and your mission will be complete. Help me beat them."
The robot said nothing to her -though she had called his entire existence disposable- and toted double her pack's weight with ease. They were covered by nightfall still, and the moon shined lightly on the ever-changing waves of the water. They stealthily made land and docked the smaller boat with ease.
A dark cloud rolled in over the sky, blackening their already nearly pitch night and it started to rain on their parade as a fresh wave of dark gray spouted from the sky in a heavy, dense shower.
Christa's face, after just a small trek across the tropical wood, was plastered with mud that had splattered up from the heavy storm currently raging. Lightning crackled on the horizon and lit up the clouds with a shock of cackling electricity. The sheen of moisture illuminated Christa's face as her pale skin was thickly covered in mud's dark slime, making the contrast of her pale icy eyes, all the more enlivening. Cold clothing clung to her chilled bones, weighing her already shackled body, down deep in the sludge she was swishing through. Heels sunk in, and the ground sucked her down deeper into the flooding island. They’d planned to sneak across the small knoll covered in ample forestry for a stealth mission, and so they did. The robot’s circuits seemed to be rusting a little, but the machine kept marching like a true trooper.
She was gritting her teeth, and panting for the humid air that wasn’t delivering fast enough throughout her muscles. The weather had slicked and dampened her hair, she was soaked, her socks were squishing grossly, and the dampness under her arms and on her brow, she couldn’t know if it was mostly sweat or the rain that poured torrentially overhead.
They were nearing the main mouth of the cave, next came for the scuba part of the game. The bags were air-insulated, no water would be tainting her gunpowder anytime soon, rain wise or ocean wise. And the cave, surely would have enough shelter to read, aim, and fire at the enemy.
Christa tried to prepare herself, mentally, physically, spiritually, for whatever she would stumble upon. Her sister’s kidnapper could have done terrible things to her, Christa could’ve been too late, however, nothing could keep her from finishing her duty, and taking this motherfucker down. Still, any situation, the kidnapper would know she was coming, and without the prize she’d searched for at his request in Karl Jak’s land of utterly abysmal Hell.
Whatever it was, whatever was beyond that darkness, she would take the plunge, sacrifice anything and everything to complete the story she’d forged with her own inner fire.
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 05-12-2017
Christa blinked several times as the light turned to dark, and the darkness, faded to a dull gray that she could just barely make out the shapes. The water was cold as ice, stabbing her in every inch of her skin. Out of her mouth, bubbles sprang, the storm endured overhead, tormenting the water and creating whitecaps above her.
Her bags full of guns and other miscellaneous weapons were floating, which was actually great, the blackness blended in with the bobbing waves and Christa didn’t have to worry about drowning the old fashioned way. The Prime sunk into the cave as a predator stalking its prey, perched, and ready for any amount of movement to cause her to spring.
Her pale eyes couldn’t see much beyond her, it was dark and rocks sprouted everywhere, jagged and unrelenting. A few of them tore through her scuba suit, one drew blood painfully, as though she’d passed a toll that required a fee. Yet, on her mind was rescuing her one and only sister, Katia, from her captor.
It felt like fate, or something much darker, unchangeable destiny. Maybe it was just Omni, mocking her, though she’d met him, and it seemed even in this moment he was sitting in his big room looking at the little boxes and watching the pain and struggle, assigning meaning to it and demeaning their hope of ever being free of these immortal tasks.
Katia hadn’t done anything wrong, maybe, maybe, Christa should have just let her rest in peace, but of all the Prime’s strengths and endeavors, never, had she had the composure to let her sister go. It was a weakness she’d had to accept. One that had cost her, made her go through trials again and again, and well, one that had broken her… Again and again.
Throughout it all though, Christa used her strengths such as endurance, devotion, stealth, agility, to slay that which threatened to bind her. Next, she’d slay her captor just as she’d slain the last obstacle. She’d gone from here to Omni for God’s sake. It was almost as though no matter how much blood Christa had sacrificed, it would never be enough.
Until today.
The bubbles continued to sprout until Christa made it to the rock-lain shore of the cave, she tossed away the mouthpiece. Her head popped up, it was empty, her floating pack slowly eased in next to her, as though her silent companion, supporting her cause. Christa closed her eyes, they were the only dry part of her now, since she’d worn goggles on her way down. She extended a hand and sensed through the rock, while she closed her eyes and released a misty breath, her body had been shocked of the cold, now it was too numb to feel the iced parts of her toes.
There was nothing around, or so her search had told her. And that was when her tall and lanky robot had appeared. He’d done as he was instructed, waited several minutes before unstealthily splashing into the water and wading through the ocean like the cold pirate the bot was. Christa raised her brows to him, but the computer-mind could not compute, nor could it speak out when it’d just programmed silence. This was a stealth mission and Christa wouldn’t have anything foiling it. There were no do-overs when the price was this high. Of that, she knew for sure.
She slipped up, her body sleek with ocean and her drenched, torn suit splashing water on the cave ground the second she’d moved to dry land. It spattered and pooled at her feet, but the chill didn’t leave her body, but rather was accentuated by the torrential wind which was mostly covered by the enclosure of cave. The robot came next. Its animatronic joints made mechanical noises, soft and unnoticeable, especially over the busy breeze. The robot had lifted all the packs from the ocean and in the meantime, Christa had lost her suit and had started unzipping to obtain the firepower essential to take this bastard down.
Christa had opted for a semi-automatic in one hand, and a laser based blaster in the other. Both would ricochet off the walls, but if she was lucky, it wouldn’t fling back at her when she’d hit full speed. Usually her aim and trajectory was spot on, it was only a matter of when she’d lay the first bullet.
Yes, she’d done the typical thing and gone in, guns blazing, but for her, everything was at stake. Her sister’s life had been taken once. That had been enough for her lifetime.
The sniper had noticed an opening in the cave, it was a crack large enough to be considered a passage, even for her tall robo-secondary here. It couldn’t have been this easy, right? She’d see her captor, maybe even surprise him, though she’d be surprised if this island in the middle of no-where had absolutely no security whatsoever, plus kidnappers were likely pretty dangerous if her own sister was caught.
Shit was about to get fucking real. Well, let’s do this then, who knows how much time I even have left? Christa stalked over to the opening, it was dark, unlit, and appeared as though it lead to nothing. The sniper wouldn’t be deceived, though she did circle around the cave to check for any other secret avenues, beside from the most obvious one.
Single file was the only way to enter this little crevice, she was armed to the teeth, quite literally, as she had placed a knife there, at the ready. Weapons in both hands, drenching and weighing down her person with ammunition and bullets, and looking pretty funny, was a pretty decent sized dagger angled sideways, held secure by her pearly whites and clamped tightly by her jaw.
To. The. Teeth.
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 05-12-2017
As the narrow rocks became more narrow, she inched herself along slowly, until the space grew so slender she’d opted to slide through sideways. The darkness was tangible, as though she could cut it through the knife perched in her teeth. Her eyes had continuously adapted, however, every few steps, the grade of darkness had somehow increased. Perhaps they were going underground, or something akin to it. Every so often, a sharp rock tore at her skin, matching the same tears that had happened to her underwater. The same happened for her secondary accomplice, however he had no blood to bleed, and the rock merely skimmed its even tougher metal, often originating in a dying spark.
The cuts were shallow and not enough to dribble a blood-trail, so, she continued. The halls haunted with their presence, with the idea that at the end of the tunnel would be a light lit with retribution, close to death and devastation for anyone who had wronged her, and freedom to Katia, who had been enslaved so often by her circumstances that she had forgotten how to break free.
Footsteps carried the Prime over the cold rock, which gleamed with the robot’s occasional spark, until they neared the exit, Christa knew, because the smell suddenly had gone from dank, to a fresh, chilled breeze that tasted like the petrichor of the storm. Fresh.
The blonde, invisible in the darkness, slowed her step and tuned her ears, She listened. Waiting for the hum of the breeze, for voices, for Katia’s hoarse, helpless scream as she called for help.
It was eerily silent. Like a shadow, forsaken to silence in its soundless state of being.
Christa had one option: To go forward. She crept along, sticking to the shadows as her eyes took in the new room in all its dim light. In a corner across the room, a fireplace flickered, the only thing to light the whole room. It was as big as a small hotel lobby, two chairs angled in front of the fireplace were stationed. Christa couldn’t see from their tall, plush backs if they were being filled with people. She tensed, the choice came down to, shoot first and ask questions later, or interrogate whoever she found and then shoot them to kill.
If she fired her gun, it might alert someone who wasn’t sitting in the chairs, vacant or not, so she opted to see if anyone was seated first and perhaps find her sister’s location swiftly and surely, rather than searching shadows.
Christa turned back and motioned for the bot to stay still at all costs, his metal could reflect the fire’s light and alert an enemy the robot comprehended her order and continued observing, his eyes, paired with the darkness, and glowed like two tiny stars.
Meanwhile, the Prime approached. She stalked in her combat boots, dry and fully subtle with every single step which shifted her weight to the forefront of her toes. The flickering light from the scorching flames reflected on her blood-smeared face as gradually, her movement brought her closer to what or who she hoped to be the answer. She had picked the chair on the left and now was nearing the side of the shadowed chair. Quickly, she leapt forward, spun around, and raised both her guns at each chair, just in case.
The one on the left was empty, the other, a man was sitting there, his hands were eloquently placed in a steeple’s structure. Christa’s expression immediately scrunched into one of anger, she didn’t know who her weapons were aimed at, but quickly, she readjusted her aim so that both were pointed at his head, even if one missed, the other surely wouldn’t. She was about to ask, ‘Who are you? Where is my sister?’ when she was greeted by the spooky voice from the phone.
It was even more daunting in person, “I am…” he began with a smarmy slither, “A bit disappointed.”
Her teeth shown, anger boiled from the bottom of her soles to the top of her head, “Where IS she?!”
The anger was tangible as her tongue traced the edge of the cold steel knife, she spat it on the ground, sure that her guns alone would be enough to slay him, she started forward with an aggressive lurch and her eyes narrowed, fierce and unforgiving.
“What makes you even think she’s still alive?” Behemoth said with a slither of his tongue.
The swaying shadows cast by the soft cackling of the crisping fire fell on the man’s face. He was pale, as a ghost, had hollowed cheeks and sunken in black eyes. His hair was long and disheveled, running just past his shoulders with a sheen of grease. He was scrawny, and weak looking. She could take him easily, however, there was a power about him she couldn’t quite place, and a question that was posed by her most inherent senses of logic, How is he sitting over there so confidently if I’ve already won by finding him?
The answer as cold as the bullets cocked in the chamber of her gun. She hadn’t. Fear trickled in, flushing with adrenaline, accelerating her heart, mind, and causing her thoughts to dart and dash around searching for the solution to the puzzle.
“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Christa said, a question in her tone as she waited for the man and king piece of the game to announce his master plan.
“Yes, but maybe it is because I wanted to see the look on your face when I tell you she’s dead. Your time is up. You’ve had plenty of it, went off galavanting with Karl Jak for far too long to even stand my amount of patience.” He delivered the blow ruthlessly, the blow was raw however it didn’t seem to sink into the Prime, who’s face had merely hardened.
She’d prepared for the worst. It had been delivered. But, that didn’t necessarily make it true.
Mind games were as real as you made them.
“So.. I can kill you now without worrying for my sister’s sake? Okay,” Christa’s newly formed smile was genuine as the gun in her hand was poised now with a finger laying aptly on the trigger.
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 05-12-2017
To Christa’s surprise, the snake smiled. It was a challenge. A rebellion that promised anarchy. All in the faint flicker of the fire which touched on his dark eyes but never plunged. His declared smile was one that dared.
Well, unless she was standing on a trap-door or something else, probably nothing would stop her from pulling the trigger, if only, that she got to punch him before she killed him. Yet… The silence, the challenge, held onto the moment, dripping away as though from a melting icicle warming up for spring. He did not seem to fear her weapons, so precisely aimed at his skull, not even the blade in her teeth, ready to be spit out and used to fillet him alive. Christa had been to war, she’d witnessed acts of torture that had made her numb to them, and she had endured many, many more.
“What’s your game?” she angled her head to a tilt, part curious, part threatening. It came off as though she were wagering or bartering. If she’d be interested, she just might spare him. But they both knew this was a lie. The line had been crossed. Blood drawn.
“Game? Oh you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so uh…. Why don’t you just pull the trigger and get it over with then, eh?” His eyes, the pupils were like diamonds, narrow slits, just like a snake or cat, a natural predator. In his natural habitat, darkness.
“Itching to die, secondary?” Christa growled, her tone low and powerful, her eyes narrowed while her lip turned into an upward snarl.
“I’d like to see you try, Prime,” he spat back to her, dishing out as she did, yet somehow he delivered his lines in a way that were filled with the essence of deceit.
Christa’s snarl turned into a smile, one that had accepted his challenge, “Deal, motherfucker.”
Her finger calmly traced the trigger, it was so delicate a line between life and death. Now it was hers to cross. This man had killed her sister. Now he would die. End of story, sorry readers.
Pressure was applied as simply as your finger would curve to scratch an itch, one flex, one motion, and the world as this gentleman’s brain knew it would be over and new one, with his brain splattered all over his floral printed chair, would be forged.
She inhaled. Then, across the slow exhale from her lungs, her ribs releasing inward, the itch was no longer there, a shockwave of sound echoed throughout the black cave, and a splattering of blood pooled on the velvet fabric of the chair. The moment had ended. It had taken one bullet.
“Kind of a disappointment, to be honest,” she mused as her robo-companion walked up behind the dead man’s chair. “I thought he’d put up more of a fight…”
There was, however, still a smile perched on his lips, despite the gaping bullet hole in his forehead. It should’ve rendered spasms through his body’s entire muscles. His hands should’ve shaken. His body should’ve flinched. It was all too easy. He had just sat there and taken it.
Christa’s eyes widened. “Shit, get back bot, he’s not dead.”
The robot remained where he was. Looking at her with the same glowing eyes. But something was off. The darkness of the room had changed to an inseparable shadow. Shit. Something was really off. Christa had no idea where to begin, she demanded this time, feeling powerless, “Did you hear me, bot?”
“And just how do you know he’s not dead?” the same man’s voice came from the robot’s voice piece, within a blink, and Behemoth’s face, snakelike and pale, had covered any trace of the bot’s faceplate. “How can you be so sure?”
The smile grew on his thin, slithery lips. Behemoth’s face was now in two places, one attached to the dead man in the chair of this dark room. The other placed so precisely above the robot’s silver, equipped shoulders. Christa’s jaw dropped, “CHRIST!”
Her stance took the defensive as he legs widened, ready for the girth of power she was about to exhale. Within a breath, her firearm had been completely unloaded on what used to be her companion, the blaster, rather like Abner’s in his storm trooper days, had shredded the bot’s steel skeleton and melted some of his metal flesh into the rock of the ground at its feet.
“Fuck, what the Hell are you?” she yelled, exchanging a clip, most anything could be killed with a gun, anything else, the blazing heat of a blaster. Her next shot would be a grenade however the creature-man hadn’t made any aggressive passes, and the Prime wasn’t quite ready to blow the roof out from over her head.
“Well, keep your promise, I can’t wait to die forever, can I? Unless of course, you mean to let me live with what I’ve done to your sister?” The same looming, menacing, shrinking voice, however tainted just slightly by an echo of the robot’s so as to not confuse where the real source of his voice was coming from.
Her finger pressed down on both triggers again, spraying upward both that of the corpse, and the robot which wouldn’t seem to die.
“Fight me yourself, stop being a coward,” she said after her blaster had overheated and she tossed it aside before it could burn her palm anymore than the current bubbling blister was progressing. In her hand, she moved the knife from her teeth and clutched it, classic combat style as it paired with her machine gun.
“And here I thought you were going to kill me. What a pity. I thought I was going to have to pay for my sins. Looks like I’ll live to die another day.” The robot’s neck curved, while Behemoth’s head on top of it grinned again, and took a seat in the vacant chair, as though everything had been planned out to a tee, and the man was getting tired of the game he’d initiated.
“I’ll make you pay in blood,” the prime spat, “You -------- ---------- --------”
“My my, I don’t know what’s worse on you, your mouth or your temper. Good thing I muted those words now, don’t you think?” Behemoth smirked and his smile was engulfed by the grease of his voice, “You could’ve hurt someone’s feelings.”
“Muted… My voice?” Christa’s own ears hadn’t heard, the cusses she’d yelled. What the Hell was she dealing with here? And, could she stop it?
A flash of insight overwhelmed her. He was provoking her, trying albeit successfully, to make her feel helpless. The ultimate torture for this commandeering prime who based her confidence on power and ability. He was demeaning both of those. It was in this moment, Christa acted a little out of character, perhaps she even grew. She tossed her weapons to the ground, yet kept her knife in the holster at her waist. Sheathed.
She sat with her back to the fire and perched her ass right down on the warm stone in front. Her back warmed up and dried quite quickly, of the icy sweat that had accumulated and the chill her skin had felt against the wind. The Prime just sat there and waited. Waited for the creature to reveal its secrets that had entitled it to brag in the first place. The secrets that had let him prevail at this game all too long, and with her sister as his trophy and prize.
The robot, and the dead corpse now began speaking in the same, snickering synchronized tone, “So, you’re done playing too? I’m glad, your game wasn’t nearly as intelligent as I’d hoped. Your sister was far more of a... Catch.” the monster smirked.
“What do you even want?” Christa sighed, he was kind of a petty man, though very, very capable, “I mean, that is if you even killed my sister in the first place.”
She subtly called his bluff, but he was in no place to reveal his cards. He was winning the game, she was merely a chess piece in his five-thousand foot mansion, “Hm? What do I want? Well, sure, there’s a list, but I think more specifically, there are a few things that you can give me that I have been lacking.”
“Why would I ever give a self-righteous bastard like you what you want? You killed my sister and said so, you sent me off on some petty mission probably to keep me distracted while you kept my sister locked up here. You’re fucked up, and the girl in the picture wasn’t even on the island we fell on. But I’m sure you already knew that.” Christa was seething, yet, kept it cool just enough by containing all the anger to her white-knuckled fist.
“Yes, I couldn’t have predicted that future, Karl is quite the dude, and that was a crazy place you ended up, but well, anyway, to the point,” his heads slanted while he thought, leaning closer to the Prime who sat a block from the ground, “I’m gonna need her made and I’ll let you leave here with your life. You may be a Prime, but there are worse things than death, as I can see from your eyes, you know very well to be true.”
“Do you really think I’m the type to be controlled so easily with such a baseless threat?” Christa spoke, exasperated, “Fuck off.”
“No,” his smile coiled on both his faces, in sync, “But I think you’ll respond if I have something to offer.”
“And just what is it? My life? You already offered that, I told you it wasn’t good enough of a deal,” Christa spoke, and realized it was rather a sick statement, still, she held true to it. She wasn’t selling out herself for herself. There had to be a better way to kick this guy’s fucking ass.
“Your sssssister’s.” his tongue slithered like a snake and held too long on the ‘s’ consonant.
“You just told me she’s dead. You’re not credible anymore. I won’t make a deal with someone I don’t trust, nor believe that they can honor their word,” she said matter-of-factly. But he held the cards.
The monstrous man shrugged, “Alright, we’ll just sit here all eternity then, and you’ll never know what you could’ve done for her.”
“I’ll hear you out,” Christa rolled her eyes grumpily.
“So, I’ll return your sister to you safe and sound, if you summon the girl in the picture for me. It is as simple as that,” the Behemoth faces spoke clearly, negotiating his terms.
“That’s even if she’s alive, if she isn’t, and you merely “let” me walk out of here with my life, I’ll dedicate my life to coming back and getting my revenge. I don’t serve people like you, this is utterly fucking senseless,” Christa half raised her head, curious, they’d breached a stalemate, how would the king piece react?
“Well, you could always do it for me as a favor then, rather than feeling as though you’re serving me,” Behemoths spoke.
Her eye twitched A FUCKING FAVOR? He’s lucky I don’t slit his fucking throat...Throats, whatever. “Not a chance, do you even know what happens when you summon someone with just a rough idea of their person? They come out all wrong. Their favorite color was blue? Well now it’s bile yellow and their favorite food is a rock. They’re dumb, or when they aren’t, they’re plainly not the same person.”
“You speak as though from experience, Prime,” he spoke the word as though it was a distasteful sour in his mouth, “Yet, let me assure you, I can give you a lot more than a rough estimate, how do you think I have two heads right now?”
“This is going no-where, I told you I’m not doing it. And so what, you can project your face onto shit? Fuck, you’re the next Karl Jak!” she shouted, “Or maybe the next Ron Burgundy, why don’t they make you fucking famous? But hey, I just want my sister back.”
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 05-25-2017
“No, miss Prime. What you’re seeing isn’t real. I’m inside your head. Currently, I have a gun pointed at your very real skull. I could kill you, but that would be a waste of effort for all the time you took to get here. And well, a waste of a bullet. Perhaps I should just banish you instead, then you’d be hitting the Underverse right about now and well, you’ll likely never see her again. Trapped for eternity has a pretty nice ring to it, especially when you’re standing in my shoes and just want a tiny favor from a big bad Prime.” Behemoth concluded his thoughts.
Shit. Fucking shit. He’d had her the entire time. None of this was real? That explained why her bullets hadn’t worked and well.. The trippy scene in front of her. She’d been beaten before she’d walked through this man’s door. Christa looked down at her hands, or rather, the image of them. This was a room inside her mind of images conjured by her enemy’s ability. It seemed she had no choice.
Memories flooded back. Those which carried the agony of the torture she’d endured, then, joined forces with the military she’d despised, because yes, it would have gone on forever. Imagine being tortured until you reach a hundred, that’s what the organization had planned, she’d escaped both with a false promise. But that part of her life was over. She wouldn’t be strong armed by this asshole.
“Why me? Why Katia? There are hundreds of Primes around, you could’ve employed them with money or something, or do you just get off on this type of thing.” Christa asked, partially stalling as she closed her eyes and willed herself back to normal. Her eyes peeked open, same room, same trippy scene. Shit. This was a lot harder than it looked.
Behemoth cackled, “Ha! The blonde thinks she’s funny, well I’ll have you begging on your knees soon enough, when you realize you can’t escape this prison I’ve created in your mind. Anyway, why should I indulge you as to why? If you remember, I’m inside your mind, it should be quite obvious that I can read it. The question is a waste of time, not genuine curiosity itself.”
“Listen, you’re a jackass and a very big pain in my ass, but I still want to know why I specifically was involved. Omni send you or something? Maybe it was the people from Coruscant, or their shit government, you could’ve left my sister out of this, now this is personal, which makes it a lot more interesting for you, if I can escape the prison you put in my mind.” Christa’s voice as genuine and low-toned, sure, she was pissed off, but answers were important to putting this puzzle together and then getting the fuck out of this mess in one piece. . . Without being banished.
“Plotting your revenge already?” Behemoth’s chuckle filled her ears, “I wouldn’t bother, not if you want to see your precious sister again anytime soon, but if you must know “Why you?” Perhaps you should ask yourself who you are and what you have done in the scheme of things. Perhaps, all I wanted was your sympathy. The girl in the photograph I sent you was my daughter. It has been too long since I’ve held her in my arms. I’ve become a monster who they imprisoned, then, I escaped with the help of a Prime. He was on his way before I could ask him my favor, though it is as you say, I wanted perfection, I wanted my daughter to come back exactly as she is remembered for me.”
“So why didn’t you use your abilities on any of the Primes you’ve encountered, make them summon your daughter for you? Why take this extra step, come on, you know, the villains like you always spill their guts before the wrongly attacked people like me win.” Christa challenged.
“They had to be willing, secondaries really don’t have the ability to manipulate Primes into manipulating their own omnillium for them, it isn’t allowed, believe me, I’ve tried,” the monster continued as he explained his reason, “Anyway, I had heard about you, you’re a little famous, aren’t you? And then when I found your sister, I saw all the potential that you left behind. I read her mind, she felt immense sorrow she couldn’t venture with you. Why didn’t you stay with her after getting her back? Why didn’t you spend time with her like you should have? It was all very pathetic teenager thoughts, mind you, however she did have it right. You abandoned her. You never wanted the responsibility, a rebel like you wanted freedom, eternal, however, that just isn’t how life goes, and maybe if you realized that, you’d grow up to actually be your age and be responsible when life takes a wrong turn. Regardless, she was alone, I was alone, I thought it would ease our pain if we were alone together.”
“So what, you sick fuck, you kidnapped her in order to become her dad? Our parents were killed isn’t that trauma enough for you? Also she wasn’t alone, she had school and a stable family which you fucking murdered. You want to play the savior then act like it, but you’ve killed innocent people, and you’ve done it for the last time.” Christa’s eyes were still closed, twitching with the amount of effort she was putting into resisting this guy’s spell over her. He had a really good grip, it felt like every time she got close and put more effort in, he got stronger and more elusive.
“Just because my means are not… Conventional, doesn’t mean their purpose wasn’t served. I trained your sister, was her mentor in a way you couldn’t ever be, I made her realize her true potential, perhaps you won’t judge what you come to find after you give me what I want. Yes, I know you’re stubborn, and it is just so sad that your mommy and daddy were killed by stormtroopers, even more tragic, that you seem to have fallen in love with one.” A smile curved on his thin lips, “Abner, is his name? Maybe I should go have a chat like this with him next.”
“Don’t you dare!” Christa seethed as her eyes burst open, anger boiled on her face and her muscles tensed. The pissed Prime scowled and bore her teeth at the two Behemoths, the same room she’d been in. Nothing had changed. Her eyes narrowed, “He would never murder anyone in cold-blood. Unlike yourself.”
“How do you know? How can you really ever know?” His smirk continued as the buttons he was pressing seemed to work perfectly as he toyed with her, still trapped in her little box. “Aren’t all stormtroopers the same?”
Christa felt her eyes widen, just how much of her thoughts, memories, private moments could he see? Fear and shock froze her heart into a glacier. Those had been her words, verbatim. How could any one person inflict this kind of pain? Be capable of creating a world within a mind? The pain twisted and turned within her and she felt a tear form at the corner of her eye as the words echoed in her mind. Her words. She should own them, not be ashamed. She wasn’t ashamed of him. No, and she wouldn’t be manipulated like this. And yet...
“Stop it! How dare you! Who do think you are?” Christa screamed helplessly and fell to her knees. The guns she’d held in her hands clattered with the empty metal they were, to the very real cold rocks that were stabbing through her pants and scraping her shins. Her palms covered the trickles of rain from her eyes as she wept.
Not only had she been beaten. She had lost.
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 05-25-2017
She had lost everything.
Everything she thought she had, it was a lie and so easily could be taken away, even immortality had its limits. So what was this? What was she, a mere blip in the scheme of things? Too stubborn to let this villain win, now, she was helpless and could do nothing. Nothing but obey.
Christa had lost everything and she had lost herself. All at once.
The pain was a tsunami, coursing through her veins with the immense power of an earthquake, she couldn’t protect anyone from this. Not Abner, not her sister, not anyone who got too close to her, so what even was the point? It felt like death. An ending to a beginning she had never remembered. Her beginning, and now, her end. It was a curse with a burden of fresh pain.
Behemoth had stood up from his chair and loomed over her, bullet wound still showing in his forehead. He tilted his gaze downward, at the pathetic sobbing lump he had created. She’d once been such a noble creature and he had respected her. Everyone eventually becomes this in the end though, when they get past their egos and entitlement, they realize that when death greets them as an old friend, they best have sorted out their affairs and have realized their places in the world. Memories are finite. And the girl below him was a legacy on her knees.
Behemoth liked the power, it made him feel as though he were different than the girl who’s fragile mind he’d just broken, tossed aside like a piece of garbage and not cared which sort of carbonized muck it ended up as. This was his victory, sure, it was wrong on every level, but it was his creation and he would take triumphant pride in it.
He blinked, time drooled on. His head tilted to the side as Christa’s sobs became slow and her haunches couldn’t push out any more tears. The monster was waiting for his reward, his dues and Christa could do nothing but pay up, and wish and hope that he’d allow her to keep on living the monotony of the Omniverse that she’d grown used to. His hand extended to her head as he knelt down, “Shhh.”
And her memory grew black.
Heavy slugs felt like they were eating at her muscle. She was on the stone ground, rocks prodded the bruises they’d left from the night before. A few beams of sunlight streamed in. Christa looked around, then, recognizing the coals for fire and the two luxurious velvet chairs she jumped up, grabbing her gun, though only by reflex, she knew it would do no good.
The image of Behemoth’s skull with a bullet wound in the core of his forehead was etched into the back of her eyelids, she saw it every time she blinked. “Shit, what happened? Oww,” there was an immense throbbing in her head, one that reminded her of what he had taken from her, but one she couldn’t quite put words to. She’d forgotten whatever it was. But not his face, never would she let herself forget his face.
“Katia?” Christa called out, still wobbling as she got to her feet. The caverns echoed her voice back to her, Christa was alone, not even the damn robot was around.
There was no trace of bullet wounds or gunpowder, all her bullets remained in her magazine. There was no trick, it just hadn’t been real. Christa felt a wave of the helplessness, it was crippling, and caused her to collapse against the ground once more. Part of her was missing, but what?
Had Behemoth taken the love away? It only seems like a sane thing to do for a sociopath like him, to deprive others of what he cannot himself feel. But she did remember Katia, and her love for her little sister, he had not deprived her of that, so what then? Maybe it was a name? Or a memory? Everything all felt so… Void. Emotionless. Empty.
The flavor of life had been sucked out in some substantial way. Life was evaporating. Christa realigned her thoughts, “Behemoth, are you still there?”
Suddenly, a form appeared in front of her, his head tilted as he coyly replied, “Why, I thought you’d never ask. Thank you for the favor, but I’m still not done with you, or your sister… Yet.”
Christa blinked, What favor? she thought as she searched her empty head. Like the cavern they were in, she’d received an empty echo, void of substance.
“Oh darling, don’t pretend you don’t know,” he teased playfully, “Anyway, I think I’ll keep your sister, despite the favor you’ve done me. But don’t worry, I’ll keep my promise, and let you out of here alive and well, in one piece. Though you won’t realize the piece you’re missing, so you can’t miss it, see?”
“What are you… Even talking about?” Christa felt the ache of her skull, it pounded when Christa had searched it for reason.
“Exactly.” he said matter-of-factly, “I left the memories of your sister though, so you’d know she’d be happier without you.”
“Did you… Fucking brainwash me?” Christa accused him, she struggled to a stand again and narrowed her eyes to a squint as she looked him in her eye.
“That’s not something you can prove dear, now, if you excuse me, we’ll be off. I’ll free you from this cage when I’m sure you can’t chase us.” Behemoth was all work, no play, now that he’d achieved his goal.
“You’re.. Leaving?” Christa said slowly. Why? Why was that so wrong? Where was he going? Who was he taking with him? Katia, he was taking her away. She would never live a free life if she let that happen. But what could she do? She was just a single person, weak, helpless. Destined for nothing. So it seemed. “Don’t take Katia, leave her with me.”
“Oh sweetie, you’re under many illusions, but let’s get this straight, I’m letting you live, I don’t owe you anything.”
The words were truly conclusive. But fragments were missing from Christa’s mind. Not the part that kept her stable, but the part that kept all her traits and willpower glued together. One part in particular. Though, she may never learn where it went, or if she can get it back. Her stubbornness, however, remained. And that would be his mistake. And he would pay for it.
“You… Can’t take her though,” Christa said, though her brow was flexing, unsure of which truth was correct.
“Why not? Are you going to stop me?” It was a challenge that had more significance than she could realize. He’d demoted her. In her mind, she was just a person, maybe a secondary. She didn’t, nor ever, could aspire to be the Prime that she was. It was a curse that would need to be broken. And there were only ten ways.
“She’s my sister,” Christa said, her tone a little more determined, unheeding of the logic, or the obvious.
“And you can do nothing about it,” Behemoth wave his hand, “It seems I’m off. Toodle-loo.”
His form vanished.
Why was this wrong? He was taking Christa’s sister. Taking. Kidnapping. Stealing. There was no choice in the matter. Flint struck a match, and it clicked in her: Fire.
“Grrrr,” she felt the anger, hot and welding the parts of her memory together, those that had been mismatched and confused by this despicable, diabolical creature of a man. “She’s my sister!” Christa exclaimed to herself.
But I don’t know how to get out, he was right… I’m powerless. Reality crashed down from the hope of the heavens above. She went over what she knew to be true, everything she was looking at currently wasn’t real. She was within her own mind, Behemoth had admitted that much. There was only one way to end it. Christa reached down to the ground, picked up the machine gun, pressed the snout against her head, and with her perfect aim, pulled the trigger.
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 05-25-2017
The night was dark, but no longer, or rather, never had it been stormy. There was no rain, no trace of anything, and Christa blinked and felt the swaying of water below her. Her eyes opened once more and the robot was in her fucking face, “Life signs coherent, she’s waking up,” it announced in its machine voice.
Her pale blue eyes took in the scene and she gasped for air, there was a new feeling in her lungs as she remembered the sensation of breathing. Christa lurched upward, looked around. The moon was still high. How had Christa gotten here? Had it been an entire twenty-four hours already?
“W-what happened? Brief me.” She demanded to her robot, who was strangely enough, still in one piece.
“Well I asked you if you were ready to go in and get your sister and you collapsed before you could put on your wetsuit. You’ve been unconscious for two hours and forty-nine minutes.”
“I never even left the fucking boat?!” Christa was scalding with anger.
“No…” the robot’s machine voice trailed off upon examining her temper and increased heart rate and blood pressure.
“Please, drive the boat over to the opening of the cave as soon as possible,” she pointed with her left hand and they sped off, spewing frothing water and ripples of waves behind them.
The air was cold, wet, chilled from the night and the ocean’s mysteriously cool breeze. This was reality. She had it back. Katia was her mission, and Behemoth was leaving. Hopefully she had time to track which direction, or catch them before they could leave.
“Your scanners, do they show anything on the radar?” Christa demanded. Her priority high.
Her robot, other than thinking it must be awful to be a human being, with the rollercoaster of never ending emotional ups and downs, detected nothing. “No projectiles have left the island yet.”
“Good, nail it.” The gas accelerated.
In no time, the duo were once again in the mouth of the cave, staring into the abyss. Christa however, had changed, though her goal was the same. Save Katia.
The stealth attack was pointless. Now was the real time to go in guns blazing. Based on how she’d done on the test-run, she didn’t know how successful this time around would be, but she wasn’t about to give up on that basis. Her sister was on the line. Again.
They docked and Christa jumped from the boat, her choice weapon a little different, and a little more classic Christa. A sniper, her pistol, and a knife. A good set, when wielded by the worthy.
There was no use calling out for Katia this time, Christa would find her just as she’d intended.
The light Click-Clack! of Christa’s boots hitting rock as she sprinted down the hallways and over rocks followed her, the echo lightly permeated down creating the bubbles of reverberation that bounced against wall. The pathways were much different than the singular room he’d made up, however with every turn, every corner, Christa knew she was getting closer. Her heart was pumping faster and faster. Deliverance was just around the next corner. She knew, she could feel it, taste it. And..
Katia. Christa blinked, she was much older than the young girl she’d left behind by about five years. They were on the opposite side of the island, in a slightly larger cave than she and the robot had entered, this one had great ceilings with sharp spears of stalactite looming down from above. It was relatively empty, other than the medium sized boat that Katia had lifted her leg to climb aboard.
“Katia!” Christa said at the sight of her own blood. Memories of her as a little girl came flooding back as her sister lifted her head to look up. She wasn’t the only one though, Behemoth’s head twisted sharply around and wore a plastered expression of messy shock all across his pale, snakelike face.
Katia looked at Behemoth before her eyes moved back to her sister. She remained in place, neither boarded the boat, nor did she run into Christa’s arms like the perfect ending to their story.
“Behemoth. This ends, now.” Christa said in her most commanding voice yet, and a crumb of fear appeared in Behemoth’s snakelike, sparkling eyes.
“Does it?” He tilted his head and waited.
“I only need one shot to kill you,” Christa replied, “Katia step out of the way.”
Katia did not. Could’ve been Stockholm syndrome, or just where her loyalties were aligned, Katia looked ambivalent to the entire situation. Devoid of emotion, “What’ve you done to her, you monster?”
Christa prepared her rifle, it could be fired close range, they were about as far apart as a basketball court. It was dark, and she could use her night-vision scope to avoid missing. There was a round in the chamber. It would only take one shot and this would be over.
“I’ve done nothing but give her the choices to progress herself that you never could,” Behemoth spoke, however it didn’t seem like he was quite using Katia as a shield, he spoke more quietly, “Why don’t you step out of the way, alright?”
Christa blinked, was this a trick? Some sort of bluff? Or had he actually cared for her sister along the time they’d spent together. The sniper was sure her sister would be used as a meat shield. This act was nothing like the man she’d met in her mind. Nothing.
“Confused?” Behemoth said, walking toward her, into the light, as she stared him down through the barrel of her rifle.
To be completely honest, she couldn’t be moreso. “Stay where you are,” his power might have a range, and if it did, he would do anything to walk closer, challenge her, and then slay her yet again in her own mind.
“Alright,” Behemoth sensed her suspicions, “I don’t want to kill you, you should just let us leave peacefully, it would be best for all of us.”
“That’s not your daughter, that’s my sister,” Christa spat.
“I am fully aware. She’s safe elsewhere, far from here. We are going to reunite with her together, Katia can have a friend to play with, don’t you want nice things for her?” Behemoth twisted her intentions.
“You bastard. Stop this, you’re a monster, and I’ll gun you down in front of her if I have to.” Christa threatened. Her eyes left her target and fell on Katia. She’d settled for sitting on a rock, and had slouched her chin in her hands. She looked tired and bored and rather in a teenager’s sense “over it” and at the point of rolling her eyes.
“Did you ask Katia what she wanted?” Behemoth antagonized.
Christa’s eyes stuck on her sister, who’d perked up at the mention of her own name, they were fighting over her, the only real parental figures she’d ever had in life. God, this was fucked up. “It doesn’t matter, you don’t get to confuse her any longer, you don’t get that power over my sister, not now, not ever.”
KA-POWWW!
She’d hit him in the chest. There was a mark, it was black, no blood trickled out. Christa reloaded her next bullet and tried again. This time, aiming for his head. KA- POWWW! Well, she hit spot-on. No blood. Behemoth started to walk forward. A gentle click-clack of his growing footsteps sounded in her ears. He was in no rush, and it was completely unnerving.
Another. KA-POWW!
This was somehow reminiscent to shot-glasses slamming down on a wooden bar. She didn’t know why. But another round wouldn’t hurt at this point. She released the empty shell in the chamber and it chimed like a jingle before it stilled on the rocky ground.
He was a few feet away now, “This is some sort of trick,” Christa snarled and loaded another one.
“Stop hiding behind that useless gun,” Behemoth challenged and used his index finger to direct it in a downward direction.
Christa allowed it, only so that she could get closer and examine his non-wounds. “Why won’t you fucking bleed?”[/i]
“Because you’re not shooting at my actual body, this is a mere mirage,” he informed her calmly.
“You fucking asshole! Just give me my sister. Or I’ll go get her myself.” Christa tossed her rifle over her shoulder with the strap and strut until she reached her. “Katia?”
“This game isn’t fun anymore,” Katia spoke in a monotone.
“I know sweetie, I came here to take you home,” Christa said, hesitant to reach out to her.
“Home?” she sounded perplexed as she parroted the word. Katia’s eyes, as blue as Christa’s looked so much more tired. Gray, not in color, but in spirit. Lackluster. “I don’t have one.”
“You will, I’ll get it back, and I won’t leave your side again, you hear?” Christa’s voice was desperate as she pleaded with the girl.
“No more promises,” Katia stood up, she was tall, her dark hair longer, her face had lost its baby fat, matured with cheekbones.
“Katia do you know who I am?” Christa asked. Behemoth could take and mangle memories, of that, she was sure, just as he could plant false realities.
“Christa,” she said, her eyes finally reaching her older sister’s face, “My older sister.”
“Yes, good, good,” Christa’s head bobbed.
“And I?” Behemoth had snuck up behind Christa like a ghost, causing prickles to crawl along the back of her neck.
“Behemoth,” Katia spoke, her eyes needed not to reach his face, “My mentor.”
“What does he teach you?” Christa said as her eyes narrowed. The static between Behemoth and Christa was tangible. Malice and hatred spouted from Christa’s snarling expression. Behemoth was more aloof, calm, resistant now that he had gotten what he had always wanted.
“How to control it…” Katia’s voice trailed off.
“Control.. What?” Christa’s brows pushed together with the confusion she felt while, eyes widened as they fixed on her sister.
Then, the rumbling began.
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 06-11-2017
The sharp roof of the cave began to fall. Or so it had appeared. Behemoth and Katia both looked up ambivalently as they noticed Christa’s horror, she’d braced herself and her stance had gotten lower, ready to dodge the spears of destruction.
Katia and Behemoth stood idle while Christa dodged the rocks that were coming at her. God, why hadn’t she shot the bastard when she had the chance? Katia might be under his trance too. But it was hard to think about all the possibilities while the Prime was rolling on the ground like the kids were taught to do when there clothes were hot with fire. “Stop, drop, and roll,” seemed evident, Christa’s keen eyes saw another fall swiftly inches from her arm and end with a crumble. The entire cave was shaking… So why were those two doing nothing?
Katia sighed, her teenage attitude prevalent, “They’re not real,” she stated blandly and rolled her eyes.
Christa blinked and looked up at her sister, a sharpened column appeared to be inches from the girl’s head and the illusion glitched out and evaporated into nothing. Christa’s eyes widened. She thought she’d been freed of Behemoth’s illusions, it seemed that wasn’t the case.
“No.. You can’t trap me in that cage anymore… I know the way out.” Christa said helplessly. There was no proof that this was even real. Shit. Shit. Shit!
“Katia we have to go, I don’t care if he’s your mentor, I have half a mind to shoot him,” Christa wished she had before she’d found this out. Mentor, tutor, but what for?
“Katia, are you really willing to leave with a murderer who thinks people’s deaths are just another notch on her belt, rather than stay by my side and have infinite knowledge?” Behemoth tempted her.
“Tch, you bastard, you’re worse than I am,” Christa’s eyes narrowed while the room still appeared to be falling around her. The noise was loud and roaring in her ears as the rocks tumbled and crumbled as they grated with the ground. “Fucking hypocrite, what about Martha?!” she raised her sniper rifle and this time, she would not miss.
“Am I? She was in the way, just another life to swallow in the scheme of things. You’re just like me, Christa, you just are too blind to see it. You’ve killed, slain the innocent to get to the guilty. Well, look who I’m looking at and I ponder if you’ve just known the truth all along. Secondaries like us were created in this world to die. You know, you met Omni yourself. And you’ve killed us before.” Behemoth summarized. Little did she pick up on the truth that would be his words.
Tch. This bastard. “I don’t know what you did to my sister but I’m going to end you, and take her home.” Christa was dead serious.
Instinct, primal, maternal, desperate, and ruthless, all veiled over in Christa’s mind. She would end whatever Behemoth was doing to his sister’s mind with a single bullet. And there he was. The snout of her rifle tilted and her finger didn’t hesitate as she pulled the trigger.
Her aim had been perfect. The head-shot hit him square in the forehead, just as it had in the illusionist’s prison, however then, she heard Katia’s voice as she saw the image before her change.
“They’re not real…” her sister had said. Now, she was rolling her eyes. But upward, into the sockets of her eyes.
The scene glitched in the Prime’s eyes and as she blinked, she saw that instead of Behemoth’s face, framed with the black and crimson bullet wound in the forehead was her beloved sister Katia’s face. She was falling to the ground, Christa leapt, dropping the sniper rifle as the girl fell in her arms before hitting the ground.
She was still warm, full of life and blood, but her head… The spray from the bullet exiting the wound. It had gone straight through. There was no way anyone could have survived that. Christa’s palm tapped Katia’s cheek desperately, “Katia! Kat? Don’t do this to me. No… No.”
Meanwhile, “Katia’s” face had turned into Behemoth. He’d played the old switcheroo and she’d never seen it coming. His face turned into a twisted victorious smile, “See, you were a murderer all along. Now, will you try to summon her back somehow, or will you let her rest in peace?”
Christa’s body shivered with fear, with the shock of horror, with the heaviness of mourning and grieving that bound her to mortal, overwhelming emotion. She clutched her little sister close to her breast and couldn’t bear to release the dead memories from her arms. The body moved like a connected lump, “Katia, no…” she sobbed and kissed her lifeless sister’s forehead. This had been the second time she’d hit her square in the head. Nothing had changed. Nothing, not even her. The title of Prime hadn’t saved her. Nothing had saved Katia from her fate. She had been forever-bound, and Christa had too.
RE: Summon, or She Dies. - Gildarts - 07-02-2017
Her mind was completely waterlogged. She’d just killed her sister again and Behemoth himself had totally fucked Christa up with not only the death of her sister, but he’d changed her memories. Convinced her she was still a secondary. That the name “Abner” meant nothing to her. Still, he’d left some decent fragments in there, like Klaud, who he’d warped into a friendly face. He’d tampered with some other gadgets of her mind’s inner workings and created layers of illusion.
The truth was. Katia may have never been kidnapped all along. But Christa would never know.
No, Christa would never know the end. For she was in soul a prime, destined to live forever. Behemoth would condemn her for her superiority. Condemn her to a fate worse than death. What could be worse than forgetting the latter part of your redemption arc? What could be worse than rotting in the form of a statue at the bottom of the sea?
Behemoth had gotten what he’d come for. Put it in a safe place and now, he would serve Christa due justice as he saw fit. Funny, how those who hated god most often became most similar to him the end. That is, if you find that hypocrisy as amusing as Behemoth did.
In Christa’s mind, she was a secondary again, so when Behemoth had said, “So what are you going to do about your dearly departed sister? Find some way to bring her back?” Christa felt crestfallen. Layers and shelves of broken china fell within her heart. As the story of her life came full circle.
“I-I…” Christa whimpered, going through the motions again. This time it wasn’t storm troopers that had caused her sister to be stolen away (albeit by her own bullet) but Behemoth. This time… It was so much more devastating. The ounces of hope and malice that Christa had once thrived on were… Not there in the same shape. This defeat was flat and infinite.
“I’m gonna make you… Fucking pay, bastard,” Christa said and tossed a blade square into the scrawny man’s shoulder. He staggered taken aback but surprises were his forte.
“And jussst how are you going to do that, when you don’t even have a gun? I’ve out-played you by every definition in the book, I’m sorry to say… I’ve arranged for your eternal demise. Have you ever been cursed?” he let out a washed-out laugh, “Well, no matter, you will be. Listen, I just want to remind you and that mashed up brain of yours that it was really nothing personal. The whole deal. I just saw my opportunity and took it.”
Christa’s eyes searched furiously for the rifle she was sure had fallen right next to her on the rocky cave ground. “Fuck!” she said, going back to her old ways of swearing between every word. Then, as though tasting a little bit more like Christa on her tongue she sprung up from the ground, settling for her bare hands to wrap around his neck.
Instead, her fiery desire for revenge wasn’t quenched by strangling the last breaths out of the man, but instead she was frozen in place. Her body couldn’t move. Anger revolted and the fear of helpless paralysis set in. Christa’s sparkling eyes danced with pain, the utter torment of helplessness. She’d been here before. Taken captive by the Empire, this time, there was a legion of something much worse closing in on her.
“So, I wouldn’t be a villain if I didn’t rightfully explain to you what is about to happen,” Behemoth snickered, “These are called Weeping Angels. We have a little pact since I found a way to pull creatures from the dreams of primes… Or well, storybooks. A magical place. They are coming for you. Don’t let them touch you… Because you’ll turn into one of them, too. A stone zombie seeking to steal life. When their hands are placed on you, you’ll turn to stone and your life force will be drained away. Don’t worry, there will be just enough left to keep you living a cursed, terrible existence at the bottom of the sea until someday someone finds you, and instead of saving you, you steal their life too. Spreading the curse like a virus.”
The smarmy bastard had outsmarted Christa, beat her on every level. Her pride was eviscerated. Her hope in tatters. Her body immobilized. She didn’t even have the thought of the only one she loved to save her. He had gone too and his compassion was forgotten in every way he'd shown it to her.
Behemoth vanished and now the shapes moved in. Statues of angels, but… With sharp, terrible fangs. As though ready to take a bite out of her. They moved swiftly in the half-light of the cavern. Christa still couldn’t move, but the stone angels kept drawing closer. “Someone…” Christa, once revenge-fueled hothead now turned desperate, begging out loud, yet coincidentally the only one to hear her would be Omni himself, as if the god cared.
“Help…”
The Prime-Secondary fell to her knees and a cellular device plopped out of her pocket, a glimmer of hope struck Christa, whatever, whoever was on that phone could come and save her.
Contacts:
Her fingers couldn’t move fast enough.
Klaud Sounded familiar enough, maybe it was her boyfriend, though Christa would likely remember that.
Tap! Her finger pressed the button.
Stone arms were reaching down on her, Christa attempted to punch one away, but felt her entire body turned rigid with pain when she found her knuckles had just collided with pure stone. Stronger than the ground she was kneeling on. The horde was overcoming her, an army of arms caging her in from above, like zombies, straight out of a horror movie. Ready to scrape the skin from her bones and claw the life out of her.
Ring ring… Ring ring… she heard over the clapping of ocean waves in the cave.
“Get the fuck away!” she shouted and in her hand she grasped the glow of phone which reflected on her face, “Hello? Hello? I don’t really know if anyone can hear me, or quite who this is, but I need fucking help. Oh shit I need more than fucking help… I’m about to be-” the phone’s signal glitched and her words overlapped, “Please, if anyone can hear me, I’m in the Vasty Deeps on an island, shit, shit, the roof is caving in. Track this signal. More than my life is at stake… Fuck, get your fucking stone hands off of…”
The signal glitched out again as Christa had been touched by several Weeping Angels, her muscles and skin had begun to turn to stone, starting with her spine, the sensation was not one of numbing on her bones, but ice. What she would imagine freezing to death would feel like without falling asleep and getting hypothermia.
“Shit… They’ve got a hold of me… There isn’t much time.” Every blink they got closer, every blink, they snared her, “Klaud wherever you are, you better fucking find me.”
The signal went dead. Christa’s face and eyes froze into gray stone, as she still went on clutching the phone in her stone-cold hands. The roof overhead began to clatter and break apart with the quaking earth, sealing the final piece of Behemoth’s scheme and assuring of only one thing:
That this place would be Christa’s tomb.