09-24-2017, 05:26 AM
“Seems like we’re getting close,” Ash commented, pausing to wait for the echo to die down before continuing. “We’d better hurry, no way of knowing how long we have until this poison takes full effect.”
“R-run…” a strained voice plead from the darkness.
“This man is awake!” Celestia exclaimed, quickly trotting over to the rusty iron gate of the nearest cell. “How can we free you?” she inquired, glancing around the seemingly empty cell.
“It’s t-too late for me,” the victim rasped, slowly shuffling forward into the light. He was a wretched sight, pale as fresh-fallen snow and gaunt to the point of alarm. What hair he had once had atop his head had all but fallen out, leaving only the occasional spiderweby white strand plastered to his sweaty face. His eyes were dark and sunken, bloodshot and squinty even in Celestia’s relatively dim light. “You m-must flee. The metal scientist...h-he is a madman!”
“That sounds accurate,” Revan quipped, feeling the dull ache of the poison coursing through his vessels. “We’ve come to put an end to his madness and save the Pale Moors.”
The words seemed, to the Liberators, to provoke the opposite reaction from the man than what they had expected: he shook his head quickly, his frail body nearly toppling over from the simple motion. “You cannot,” he uttered, panic causing his voice to crack. “Some have tried, they only b-become his next test subjects. They’re taken away, and then the screams come.” He inhaled sharply, hands visibly shaking. “The screams...they haunt me.”
“Yeah, well he’s already dosed us up with something so we don’t have a whole lot to lose,” Ash said, shrugging. “We’ve lost a few friends to these freaks already and I didn’t come all the way down this pit to just turn around.” The prisoner’s eyes widened in alarm, but the slayer quickly cut off his protesting. “We’ll handle it. Where can we find Ol’ Chuckles?”
The frail inmate seemed to deliberate with himself silently for a few moments before finally swallowing hard and meeting the gaze of his would-be rescuers. “J-just down that hallway. The door has a h-heavy lock on it, though. I d-don’t know where he keeps the key.”
“Luckily for us I have a master key,” Ash said, lifting his chainsaw limb high. “Let’s go.”
Leaving the prisoner and his less chatty cellmates behind, the trio of Liberators dashed to the end of the room and took the corner at a sprint, catching sight of a large wooden doorway at the end of the hall. The dying man’s words had stirred in them the strength to push forward, to bring Nebula’s forces to their knees. They fanned out into formation as they ran, Revan and Ash taking up the front, with the spellcasting alicorn ready at the rear.
They reached the door.
“You’ve finally arrived.”
Before they could make their dramatic entrance, the door sprang open before them, brilliant light spilling over the threshold. Despite the havoc it would wreak on their unadjusted eyes, the Liberators sprinted into the room, finding the door to somewhat predictably swing closed behind them.
“You’re damn right we have!” Ash snarled, blinking the spots out of his vision as his pupils adjusted. “Now get over here and I’ll repay you for what you did to Kanda!”
“Sorry, you’ll have to forgive me.” Nebula’s commander strode toward the Liberators, his robotic limbs gliding smoothly and silently as he crossed the polished metal floor. “I’m not very good with names. If I handed out name tags to every ant I squashed, I’d never get anything done. I suppose you mean the tall one with the sword?”
“We’re here to bring you to justice!” Celestia chimed in, ignoring his taunting jab. “You’ve done enough damage to the Pale Moors. We’ll stop you here, and take another link out of Nebula’s chain.”
“Peh,” the mechanized madman muttered, shaking his domed head as he slipped his hands into robotic ‘pockets’. “No, that won’t be happening. You’re far too important to my experiments.”
Revan furrowed his brow, beginning to channel a spell as his vision finally cleared. They had found themselves in a large laboratory, various scientific accoutrements and devices scattered throughout the room. The owner of these devices stood before them, looking to be of the same ilk as Judgeman, though notably much smaller. His frame seemed almost wiry in comparison, and his back was arched in such a way as one might see in an arthritic elder. For all the trouble he had caused them, he was not very imposing. “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” the swordsman said, hands wreathed in fire. “But you’ll be the one at our mercy.”
“Not likely,” came the reply. “I, Dr. Psyche, will have to teach you Liberators your place!” With a mad cackle, the doctor sprang backward with surprisingly agility, turning the pocket-like protrusions on his hips suddenly upward. In an instant they shone a vibrant red, unleashing twin blinding beams of red energy rocketing toward them a split second later.
“R-run…” a strained voice plead from the darkness.
“This man is awake!” Celestia exclaimed, quickly trotting over to the rusty iron gate of the nearest cell. “How can we free you?” she inquired, glancing around the seemingly empty cell.
“It’s t-too late for me,” the victim rasped, slowly shuffling forward into the light. He was a wretched sight, pale as fresh-fallen snow and gaunt to the point of alarm. What hair he had once had atop his head had all but fallen out, leaving only the occasional spiderweby white strand plastered to his sweaty face. His eyes were dark and sunken, bloodshot and squinty even in Celestia’s relatively dim light. “You m-must flee. The metal scientist...h-he is a madman!”
“That sounds accurate,” Revan quipped, feeling the dull ache of the poison coursing through his vessels. “We’ve come to put an end to his madness and save the Pale Moors.”
The words seemed, to the Liberators, to provoke the opposite reaction from the man than what they had expected: he shook his head quickly, his frail body nearly toppling over from the simple motion. “You cannot,” he uttered, panic causing his voice to crack. “Some have tried, they only b-become his next test subjects. They’re taken away, and then the screams come.” He inhaled sharply, hands visibly shaking. “The screams...they haunt me.”
“Yeah, well he’s already dosed us up with something so we don’t have a whole lot to lose,” Ash said, shrugging. “We’ve lost a few friends to these freaks already and I didn’t come all the way down this pit to just turn around.” The prisoner’s eyes widened in alarm, but the slayer quickly cut off his protesting. “We’ll handle it. Where can we find Ol’ Chuckles?”
The frail inmate seemed to deliberate with himself silently for a few moments before finally swallowing hard and meeting the gaze of his would-be rescuers. “J-just down that hallway. The door has a h-heavy lock on it, though. I d-don’t know where he keeps the key.”
“Luckily for us I have a master key,” Ash said, lifting his chainsaw limb high. “Let’s go.”
Leaving the prisoner and his less chatty cellmates behind, the trio of Liberators dashed to the end of the room and took the corner at a sprint, catching sight of a large wooden doorway at the end of the hall. The dying man’s words had stirred in them the strength to push forward, to bring Nebula’s forces to their knees. They fanned out into formation as they ran, Revan and Ash taking up the front, with the spellcasting alicorn ready at the rear.
They reached the door.
“You’ve finally arrived.”
Before they could make their dramatic entrance, the door sprang open before them, brilliant light spilling over the threshold. Despite the havoc it would wreak on their unadjusted eyes, the Liberators sprinted into the room, finding the door to somewhat predictably swing closed behind them.
“You’re damn right we have!” Ash snarled, blinking the spots out of his vision as his pupils adjusted. “Now get over here and I’ll repay you for what you did to Kanda!”
“Sorry, you’ll have to forgive me.” Nebula’s commander strode toward the Liberators, his robotic limbs gliding smoothly and silently as he crossed the polished metal floor. “I’m not very good with names. If I handed out name tags to every ant I squashed, I’d never get anything done. I suppose you mean the tall one with the sword?”
“We’re here to bring you to justice!” Celestia chimed in, ignoring his taunting jab. “You’ve done enough damage to the Pale Moors. We’ll stop you here, and take another link out of Nebula’s chain.”
“Peh,” the mechanized madman muttered, shaking his domed head as he slipped his hands into robotic ‘pockets’. “No, that won’t be happening. You’re far too important to my experiments.”
Revan furrowed his brow, beginning to channel a spell as his vision finally cleared. They had found themselves in a large laboratory, various scientific accoutrements and devices scattered throughout the room. The owner of these devices stood before them, looking to be of the same ilk as Judgeman, though notably much smaller. His frame seemed almost wiry in comparison, and his back was arched in such a way as one might see in an arthritic elder. For all the trouble he had caused them, he was not very imposing. “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” the swordsman said, hands wreathed in fire. “But you’ll be the one at our mercy.”
“Not likely,” came the reply. “I, Dr. Psyche, will have to teach you Liberators your place!” With a mad cackle, the doctor sprang backward with surprisingly agility, turning the pocket-like protrusions on his hips suddenly upward. In an instant they shone a vibrant red, unleashing twin blinding beams of red energy rocketing toward them a split second later.
Quote:Well done, well done, you've made it to the final encounter!
For reference, your new best friend is as follows: https://i.imgur.com/SS69dni.jpg
Dr. Psyche is an entire bag of nutjobs all formed up combining robot style into one, bigger, super nutjob. Best of luck dealing with him. He's got a lot of chemicals and poisons to make your life hell, and he's faster and tougher than he looks. This mechanized medical maleficar won't go down easily. Stay on your toes, though, this is the final hurdle!
You have ten days to write up to 1200 words. Go nuts.