Waiting for the Worms (Dark Data)

[Hiro Protagonist]

A Different Kind of Relief

Hiro's car exited out the gate from the Moors, trailing exhaust and smoke from the damaged engine. Those cobblestones were hell on the wheels, and he hadn't had time to repair it before the battle. Afterwards, he just wanted to get the hell out of the misty, oppressive verse. Next stop, The Fountain of Infinity.

The hacker opened a window, running a finger through his hair and feeling over the ripped patches where Kerrigan had severed his dreadlocks. Fucking bitch. It would probably take him a while to regrow hair. Did Omnilium count that as "damage"? In any case, he'd be wearing it shorter for a while. With any luck, there would be a packet of his cigarettes in the glovebox, and thankfully there were.

He took the drive slow, inhaling deeply on the Sunshine Slim and blowing turquoise smoke out of the window. His body ached and he was pretty sure he was still bleeding through the makeshift bandages the apothecary in Darkshire had dressed him up in. Hopefully Okor would take his time regenerating. Hiro could camp out for a few days and work on some of his side projects. And speaking of side projects....

The dashboard lit up with a translucent blinking light and a heavily distorted message tone. He was getting a call? Not from Commander Caasjuun, that was for sure. She didn't take the courtesy of letting it ring, and it wasn't coming through on his EPD channel. Maybe someone answering that old ad of his? He poked the button and accepted the call.

"Hiro Protagonist, wetwork, coding, and electronic countermeasures. Who's this?" He coughed a bit at the end of his introduction, his throat still raw from the smoke and stench of the battlefield. That would be remedied soon.

"Yes, hello? Mr. Protagonisr, you don't know me but I read your study on the nature of data transmission to physical mediums in the Omniverse." After the hacker had done his experiments on Colonel's biodata after Dante's Abyss, he'd published his findings on the Dataverse, mainly because he felt the information would be useful to other programmers or Primes that made use of such things. "Quite interesting work, and something that leads me to believe you would be very interested in what I have to say."

Hiro kept driving, taking another long drag. Wasn't like there were any other cars on the road, so to speak, and the fountain was still a good ways off. "And that would be?"

The techno samurai heard papers being rustled and shuffled. "There is a shadow organization here in the Omniverse known as Nebula. They have been using the same sort of process as you worked on to convert Secondaries and Primes into powerful servanfs, using some form of nefarious dark power. Each verse has been infiltrated by their agents, and they work from hidden pocket dimensions to spread their influence. Obviously, they must be stopped."

A groan from the driver's seat. "Really? I am literally just getting back from playing Savior Hero to a town of medieval peasants, and it's immediately back to "Save-the-world" mode?"

Dr Regal chuckled. "If you prefer to see it that way,  then yes, I suppose you could say that. However, I have a considerable number of resources at my disposal. There will be a reward. And you won't be taking it on alone. I've put a call out for any other Primes who wish to assist in liberating these verses from Nebula's influence."

Hiro was silent for a few moments, finishing his cigarette and spotting the shape of the Fountain in the distance. Dr. Regal was just about to speak again when Hiro interrupted him. "Fine, I'll do it. How do I find these Nebula punks?" 

There was another, louder sounding beep on the dashboard, and the car slowed for a second before regaining it's speed. "The hell was that, Regal? You just hit my OS with 50 Terabytes of info!" Thebgood doctor cleared his throat. "Data for physical items takes up a large amount of space, Mr. Protagonist. I've sent you the schematics for a device which will assist you to that end, along with any other information I have on them. You'll know the other Liberators by sight, because they'll be wearing these devices. Good luck, Hiro. Regal out."

Well, that settled that. Another grand quest to save the verse from forces of evil. At least now Hiro had something to do. And the reward wasn't a bad incentive either. He pulled the car up to the fountain, parking it and turning off the engine. Walking around to the back of the trunk, he popped it and pulled a bottle of Darkshire Porter, still icy from the cooler section, and cracked the wax covered top, toasting the Fountain and the return of the plague marine. "Well now, Okor....your turn to help me."

[Okor]

Okor’s heart beat in slow stereo, a steady rhythm providing the only stimuli in the empty void between life and death. He pressed his hands to the side of his head, dull brown locks shifting beneath scarred palms. His movements were sluggish, as if he had awoken from a century of dreamless sleep. A distant rumble that only intensified in volume signalled the shift in the status quo.

A massive maze of mirrors manifested, slowly rising from the nothingness, its reflective walls obscuring whatever laid in its heart from view. A voice pierced the din, a phlegm-filled growl resonating within the Marine’s guts.

”And so it comes to this, Whelp.”

It echoed off of the mirrored walls, eventually succumbing to entropy as it faded into nothingness, leaving him alone within this abstract hell. A monster lurked within this labyrinth, dwelling within its foul lair, awaiting his arrival.

Pure silk, white as snow, billowed from his statuesque form, the tunic left unadorned so as not to distract from the simple purity of his purpose: Purgation.

“I have come to end you, foul beast,” he cried to an uncaring world, clutching the gleaming steel of his blade as he began to stride down a corrupted corridor, a new perversion of his perfect form presented in every facet of the material.

In one reflection, he was a red-handed warlord. He rested upon a throne of skulls, blood flowing from a thousand cuts upon his body anointing the ossified ornaments with a steady stream of sanguine. Armoured supplicants stood proud beneath his morbid mound, the violence embodied in every fibre of their being just barely held in check by the palpable aura of aggression radiating from this warped warrior. Two eyes like smouldering coals turned to face him as a mouthful of brass fangs opened in a rictus grin, boiling blood seeping from its metallic maw as the mirrored marauder mouthed a name.

Paleblood.

The image faded as Okor stumbled backwards, his noble face contorted in a grimace, disgusted at the possibility that purported to be him. Such barbarity was far beneath him, an addiction to atrocity that had no place in a pure heart.

Another nightmare greeted him as he turned, a gleaming smile matched by hollow, black, soulless eyes. Flayed flesh stretched as the depraved demigod beckoned them forward, golden blades piercing its pectorals, divine blood seeping from these self-inflicted scars into a fountain at the base of a golden throne. Snivelling sycophants supped from this bloody bounty, whispering praise as the chains embedded into their flesh constantly reminded them of who owned them, body and soul. The debauched deity beckoned him in, eyes devoid of humanity hungry for another soul to sample. From languid lips, it whispered a single word, ripe with power.

Paleblood.

The paladin recoiled, the perversion before him driving him backwards. Every moment in this maze brought a new form of-

Madness.

That was the only appropriate word for the scene scarring reality before him. He stood before himself, gilded armour melding with pale flesh, a thousand unblinking eyes of a thousand different colours staring into eternity. It clutched a staff with birdlike claws, feathers and fetishes adorning its golden length, sorcerous power swirling around the wrong symbol topping the shimmering shaft. A black beak surrounded by eyes, each of which seemed to scheme some different slavery for his immortal soul. It creaked open, a universe swirling within its dark depths, speaking in nine different voices.

Paleblood.

They were thrice named and thrice bound, each ruinous reflection’s voice echoing off of the walls of the prison. One last corrupted characterization remained, awaiting him as he turned away from the mind-warping warlock, the air itself turning foul.

A corroded and corrupted carapace encased the entropic warlord, one eye burning with hatred beneath a cracked horn as a corrosive claw was raised in a striking motion. There was no rulership here: No supplicants, no minions, no infinite array of eyes seeking to swallow his soul whole. There was naught but strength, hatred, and the Gifts of the Grandfather.

A black-fanged maw twisted itself into a mockery of a smile, a rotting tongue running over infected incisors.

And then, it struck. Glass shattered, shards shredding the skin of both combatants as the undying warrior roared out to the absent heavens.

”I have had enough of this.”

A claw locked around his throat as he struggled against his assailant, his blade falling to the floor, forgotten as he tried to dislodge the festering fingers strangling him. His eyes bulged, staring into the crimson cyclopean oculus.

”Every time I face defeat, you return to... haunt me.”

With a heave, the pure paladin was sent flying through a set of mirrors, every single shard reflecting his death: Bloodied, broken, beaten, and bowed. Refusing to accept this, he attempted to rise, grinding glass into his body as he struggled to stand, only for a boot to arrest the motion, shattering his kneecap as the full weight of his foe came down upon him.

”No more,” the mouldering monster snarled, the boot coming down again, shattering his skeletal structure once more. ”No more,” though the Templar was barely conscious, he was ‘fortunate’ enough to feel the fists crashing against his face. The beast spat in his face, the spittle sizzling against split flesh as it spoke, every sentence punctuated by bloody strikes of his iron fists. ”I am not some misguided soul to be... saved. I am not some whimpering weakling living off of the gifts of the Gods and my Gene-Father. I am not just some twisted, tainted reflection of what I could have been.”

Through shattered teeth and a flensed face, the paladin spoke, unhindered by such things.

“Then what are you, Paleblood?”

The chosen warrior of Chaos stopped for a moment, panting as blood dripped from his claws.

”I… I am Okor Gods-Damned Paleblood. And I answer to no-one.”

“That is not an answer,” hissed his own mind from beneath him. “We are-”

”Shut up. You reside somewhere within my mind, don’t you?” He pressed a claw to his head, the blackened nail sinking into leathery skin. ”I’ll find out where. I’ll carve it out, and devour it whole. You will remain in the darkest depths of my mind, and trouble me no more.”

“And if we refuse?” Dozens of different interpretations on Okor surrounded him: dead men, children, Daemons and kings. A hungry grin heralded his answer.

”I’ve walked the realm of dreams. I will hunt each and every one of you… down.”

A gold-clad champion advanced forward, their skin fair, unscarred. “You’ve slaughtered your way through life, Okor. Do you truly begin that you can solve your own madness with violence?”

The rotting reaver moved with speed belying his bulk, claws clasping at the King’s skull, their neck snapping as he wrenched it to the side. The corpse collapsed, eyes still wide in shock as the Apex predator of the psyche strode off towards a growing, glowing portal back to what passed for reality in this realm. He raised a single finger over his shoulder to the lesser personalities and possibilities, snarling as he spoke, crossing the boundary between worlds.

”Witness it.”

[Madotsuki]

Madotsuki skidded to a stop just outside of the Coruscant gate, scanning the white abyss beyond her for anything of note. Aside from the fountain in the center, there wasn't really anything worth investigating. So it appeared that she'd just make a beeline to Camelot's gate and just cross that bridge when she came to it.

She was planning to summon her bike, but then she remembered that she barely made it to the gate even though she only had half the distance to travel. Nope. She needed something more... efficient. But what could she summon? Ideas were already forming in her head.

Before long, she sped along the blank ground in an unnaturally arranged cluster of pink crystals, which hovered across via some mechanism the dreamer didn't bother to specify. A purplish light shone underneath the vehicle, apparently allowing it to float.

It didn't take long for her to arrive at the fountain, which had adjusted itself to appear crystalline during her journey. Slowing to a stop in front of it, she hopped out and placed a hand into the clear water. She had no interest in drinking it; who knew what it carried in its deceptively innocent liquid? Instead, she just stared intently at the red cat eyes it reflected. Now that she thought about it, she never actually took the time to examine herself thoroughly in a mirror before. Especially to look at her own eyes.

Something just felt wrong about it, but she couldn't quite sure what it was-- was it because she never saw anyone else with these sort of eyes, or was it because her eyes made it look like she was ready to tear someone to shreds? Probably both.

She pulled herself away from the fountain, a little shaken, when a car stopped nearby. Glancing over to see who was driving it, she couldn't help but grin when she found out.

'Hiro!' she shouted in his mind, running and waving at him. 'It's been a while, hasn't it? What are you doing here?"

He chuckled, moving in closer so he could give her a quick hug. "Glad to see you too, M." He looked over at the front of the car, mildly annoyed with something. "I was coming back home to relax, but someone named Dr. Regal wanted me to--"

'-Stop Nebula?' Mado suggested, a glimmer in her eyes.

"Did he ask you too?"

'Yep! I was heading to Camelot.' She paused, then smiled. 'Why don't we team up?'

"Why not? You might want to make yourself comfortable though-- we're gonna be here a while."

She quickly retrieved her gem cruiser and parked it next to the samurai's car, to which he said "sweet ride."

The dreamer shrugged. 'Thanks, but what are we waiting for?'

"Let's just say I'm waiting for someone."

[Hiro Protagonist]

Blearily, the hacker opened his eyes, fingers still on his laptop keyboard. He was laying down inside the tent he'd gotten from Darkshire, a pile of wool and furs serving as his mattress. He'd passed out after binging on two seasons of Raft Warriors that he found browsing on Omnetflix after getting good and loaded on the thick dark ale that Darkshire produced as a local favorite. Madotsuki had gone to bed about halfway into the first season, but he was still too jazzed up to crash. Even through the cloth flap of his tent, the glowing white glare of the Nexus stung his eyes.

He reached out for his goggles and strapped them onto his head, fingers passing over the bald spots on his scalp, and croaked a command. "Ugh...tint, 60% filtration." His vision darkened and sight became less painful. Groaning as he sat up, he felt on his torso and sides, peeling off the cloth poultices and bandages. The light cuts he'd received were already healing over, now covered in tender, bright red skin that show no sign of laceration. The deeper wound in his shoulder was still open, but healing, and the poison from the Zerg spines had been flushed out of his system. "Hey, Mads? You up yet?" He called out, his voice still rather hoarse.

Muscle aches still yanked at his bones when he moved, but an hour with one of those handheld massagers had worked out the knots in his legs and chest so he was able to move without wincing. He finally sat up, throwing on his clothes and getting dressed. For all he knew, it was morning. There was no sun or day/night cycle in th Nexus, and it was now apparent why there were no permanent settlements in this verse. It was just too static. Maddeningly so.

"Hiro? I'm over here." Madotsuki waved from the top of her crystal conveyance,  perched on a higher structure and staring at the fountain with an introspective look. "So who are we waiting for again?" She thoughtspoke into his mind as Hiro stood up and started to repack his tent and supplies. He had a feeling that Okor would be here soon, and even if he wasn't, the hacker couldn't take any more of the ceaseless brightness. Coughing, he took a sip from a water bottle and swished it around his mouth to moisten his hungover tongue. "Guh. Guy named Okor. He's a.....friend, I guess? Bit intimidating, but a fucking powerhouse. Someone you definitely want fighting next to you rather than against you."

He considered the situation for a moment, and added. "Just...steel yourself. He's not the most typical looking guy. Actually looks pretty evil, but he has a sense of honor and respect. Not as vulgar as you'd thi-"

He was cut off as a jagged set of curved, dripping claws rent the air ten feet away from them, a blood curdling roar issuing from all around as the wicked gauntlet sliced a jagged hole in reality. "HRAAAAARRRGGHHH! I LIVE ONCE MORE!"

The putrid pugilist turned away from the fountain to see Hiro and a young teenage girl staring at him, the hacker wearing an amused grin while the girl had a hand clapped over her mouth as she beheld his rusted, pestilence bulk. "Wow. Good entrance, Okor. I think you scared Madotsuji half to death." The samurai ronin continued to pack up, speaking as he did so. "Mads, this is Okor, Warrior of the Death Guard, Champion of Nurgle, and like forty other titles. Okor, meet my roommate Madotsuki. Quiet type, but a hell of a scrapper in a pinch."

Anothee bundle of supplies went into the trunk as Okor eyed the girl and offered a greeting. " A pleasure, Madotsuki." He took in the girl's form, possibly a bit underwhelmed. But then again, he'd had the same impression from Hiro and the hacker-ronin had ended up proving himself in Darkshire.

"So, Okor. I helped you out with the Darkshire business....now it's your turn to help me out with something else. Something a little more...global, I guess." Hiro shut the trunk and turned around the face the plague marine. "And something that I'm sure will offer a substantial opportunity for chaos and combat." Okor tilted his helm forward to indicate he was listening.

Hiro smirked. "We're gonna completely embarass the Kingdom, and save Camelot from a shadow organization."

[Okor]

Corrupted claws reached up to the corroded helmet donned by Okor, twisting the tortured metal and lifting it from his syphilitic skull, scraps of festering flesh peeling away with the armour. The Plague Marine’s pestilential visage was left bared, buboes and blisters blossoming underneath a frayed, jaundiced hide. Fangs as dark as the deepest fathoms of Terra’s polluted seas glistened within his gob, seeping with sepsis. An eye glared with three crimson pupils, weeping with pus and blood, set in the center of his face, flesh and bone clearly warped to allow for this cyclopean mutation.

”Gratuitous violence? Shaming a… weakling empire? Enough mayhem and murder to make Omni himself take notice?”

A gangrenous grin spread, the corners of his maw twitching up in a mockery of a smile.

”Why Hiro, I didn’t know it was my birthday,” spoke the skeletal soldier, his own birth date long lost to millennia of war.

His twisted spine creaked as he turned, his lone eye sizing up the recent arrival, black brows furrowing as fluids of unknown provenance pooled into his coarse beard, the foul breath coming from within his festering corpse causing Madotsuki to recoil from the rotting renegade.

”Although… Hiro, my eye may be ridden with worms, but she is naught but a child, is she not? Recent events have given me cause to be more… discerning, when it comes to allies,” he said, the weight of his so-called ally’s blade still heavy on his ruined hearts.

”Can she fight?”

A smile broke across the synthetic shogun’s face, his goggles slipping down over his eyes. “Like a Demon. She knows her way around a knife, and she’s got this weird-ass nightmare magic shit going on.”

”If you endorse her, then I will be happy to have her at my side,” gurgled the gangrenous giant, his skin crawling as his parasites burrowed beneath his flesh, feasting on the ever-regenerating rot that made up his innards.

“So what’s the plan?” Asked the child, her voice soft and eerily empty, indicative of a pained past.

A manic grin answered her.

”Why, I’m glad you asked.” Okor turned, beginning to pace as four leprous lungs strived to deliver his speech with the proper impact.

”The Omniverse, as far as we know is little more than… Omni’s personal sandbox. Omnillium flows and becomes new shapes, but never does it truly change, or end. We are but toys in his eyes, trudging through the shifting sands, damned to a life amongst meaningless, endless evolution.”

“This is the world we are trapped in, forced to dance on Omni’s strings for his amusement. But today, we take the first step to cutting ourselves free.”

“He gives us a realm of royalty and regality, beset by corruption. So much time and effort, spent rejecting millennia of human progress. I say we show them what we’ve been missing.”

He hefted the blocky bolter onto his shoulder, its rusted mass oozing with oil, dripping down into the marks of devotion carved into the pestilential pauldron.

”Let’s knock over some Gods-damned castles.”

[Madotsuki]

Madotsuki wasn't sure what she was expecting when Okor kicked in the metaphorical door, but the rotting marine in front of her was definitely not it. While his sudden appearance startled her, and the stench that emanated from his body drove her to keep her distance, she was not necessarily intimidated. Instead she examined the newcomer thoroughly from a safe distance, morbidly interested in how on earth the guy wound up like this. Regardless, this man was triggering nostalgia within her heart.

When the two turned their attention to her, she crossed her arms protectively across her chest. She watched as Hiro introduced her, only for Okor to question her capability. It was as if she had been placed under a microscope and was being watched. At least the way the marine was speaking made her feel that way. The samurai quickly confirmed her abilities, but the way he explained them... something about calling her strange skills "nightmare magic" made her uncomfortable, even though it was indeed an apt description, even in her eyes. Maybe she was part-demon? It... would actually explain a lot, although the idea left a worse taste in her mouth than the corpse-like solider's odor. Still, she smiled at her friend and Okor's approval to save face.

She asked what they planned to do, whereupon the marine gave a quick rant about Omni. She took a moment to think about his... extreme opinions; she never really thought of the Omniverse of a prison, but she could understand why this newcomer thought of it this way.

'But Omni has taken broken toys and repaired them-- giving them new meaning,' the dreamer pointed out, partly referring to herself. 'Even though that may not have been intentional, you cannot deny that.'

"If the toys cannot fix themselves, then they deserve to stay broken," Okor countered. "Let them return to the dust they came from!"

The half-baku said nothing, but she glanced away. Taking a moment to steel herself, she turned back to face him. '...I guess. ...We'll all die someday.' She sighed. 'So let's go wreck some castles while we're still alive.'

It wasn't long before the three were riding towards the Camelot gate. Hiro drove his car while Okor took one of the backseats. Madotsuki rode in her crystalline hovercraft right behind them. Things were quiet until halfway to their destination, where the dreamer noticed the odd symbols on the marine's pauldron and had questioned him about it. The result was a fascinating discussion about Nurgle, although it was unfortunately cut short when they passed through the gate.