09-10-2016, 10:48 PM
Tearen awoke with a start. Apparently he had dozed off, down there in the pits of Grooota City. He was currently underneath about six feet of the white, slimy goo that had once filled the edges of this cavernous reservoir to the brim. What had once been a torrent of the vile stuff now came down in a broken trickle. Apparently, his activity had been noticed, gauging by how intermittent bursts of electric light were filtered down through the semi-opaque mire. Most likely a flock of Grooota’s enslaved worker demons, cutting through the rent metal with acetylene torches. As Tearen lay there, oddly comfortable in the soupy abyss, he considered possibly using this opportunity to make his escape. In his crow form, there was very little that could catch him. Coupled with his ability to turn out of phase with the material world, it would be trivial to skirt past the notice of these indentured brutes.
Oh, but where would the fun in that be? Besides, despite having recovered his sense of humanity (or something very close to that), Tearen still had just as much ambition as he had posessed when he’d still been the Enigma. Most likely by this point, Grooota had written him off for dead. To stride back through the brazen doors of the city’s central tower, unhampered by a pair of dullard demon henchmen, would send a powerful statement to the demon metropolis. From there, Nealaphh could acquire all the information he needed to know.
Dedicated to this plan of action, the shadow surged up through the milky slop in a great, splashing burst. Tearen ascended meteorically through the darkness of the reservoir, feeling the eyes of the startled demon workmen following him. He could taste their awe in the depths of his mind, as well as confusion. These two emotions were the sweetest ingredients to concocting a comfortable feeling of superiority. As Tearen flew up through the aperture into the orange, smokey skies of Grooota, he took a look around, trying to spot the spire he had originally been examined in. It was hard to get a sense of direction in the Underverse, especially with the sky obscured by great clouds of ash. He did remember, though, that the ash is what had formed that immense, black desert he originally found himself in. If he flew in the direction of the drifting soot, he should at least eventually get close to his starting point.
In a little over a quarter of an hour, the doors to Grooota’s tower flung themselves open as Tearen strode boldly through. The few token guardians at the entrance had not been dispatched, they had simply been made to believe that Tearen was supposed to be there. Human or not, bending the minds of others would always have its uses, and just because he had recovered a basic sense of morality did not mean he was above pragmatism. The Central Spire was silent, save from the clicks and hisses from his last time here. The myriad television screens no longer showed a wall of snowy static, however. They all showed Tearen on their screens, tracking his movement through the scrap-metal citadel. A tittering, ethereal chuckle accompanied the shadow as he ascended the long steps to the uppermost platform where he had first met the demon avatar.
Arriving on the large, metallic plinthe, the large hulks of semi-conscious machinery now blinked actively, and the animatronic corpulence of Grooota’s terminal body seemed to be awake and moving. Its blank, metal eyes stared directly ahead as Tearen approached, his fingers steepled as the shadow approached. The trouble with machine consciousnesses such as Grooota was that Tearen could not sift through their surface thoughts for hidden motives or agendas. Additionally, he couldn’t speak directly to the machine with his telepathy, so he would have to do it via proxy. He would have to be very careful with how he handled this situation, since summoning his more vocal Aspects could be seen as a threat.
“So, you weren’t pulverized like we had all thought. Impressive.”
Tearen paused a moment before causing his dozen tetrahedrons to spontaneously manifest. The Grooota puppet made no immediate physical reaction, but Tearen did notice a faint thrumming sound begin to emanate from the electronic hulks that also encircled the platform. Some form of defense, most likely. That meant that they were important items in this room, not the spectacle of the half-octopoid geriatric that was enthroned before him. The Aspects all chimed in unison as Tearen broadcasted his thoughts through their resonant forms.
“I’ve no time for pleasantries, Grooota, only answers.” Tearen snapped back, crossing his obsidian arms. Another peal of hoarse chuckling rang throughout the chamber.
“Ohoh...have some fire back in us, have we?” Grooota replied, clearly bemused by Tearen’s show of bravado. The avatar may have also been referring to the glinting pair of green eyes which once again burned where a face should have been.
“Indeed. Though I do not presume to be in a position of power over you, I am in need of information. It would be preferable to me for us to cooperate.” Tearen said softly.
“How-”
Grooota began to say something with a sharp edge in his tone, but Tearen cut him off.
“Please spare me your tired rhetoric of ‘owing me nothing’ and how I am ‘mere scum to be incinerated on a whim.’ You’ve seen the damage I can do. You think I couldn’t obliterate this entire tower of yours if I so much as felt the need to?”
The words rang loudly through the chamber before Grooota ran a hand over his beard. The tone that came in response was more smug than Tearen had been expecting.
“What I was going to say…” Grooota said with a heavy pause, “...was ‘How may I be of assistance?’ I also have no patience for the ritualistic posturing between demons and their supplicants, so let us get to business.”
Damn. Tearen had lost some ground in that exchange. He had betrayed that he was not beyond making hasty conclusions about other people’s behavior based on this new environment. Already the effects of his renewed sense of humanity were showing through. It was a sign of his inexperience that would never be lived down, despite how subtle its effect might be. In a phrase, he had been one-upped. Still, he couldn’t allow his humiliation to show through; enough damage had already been done.
“In that case, explain the weirdling matriarch and her environs.” Tearen said in a straightforward tone, betraying no sense of shame nor embarrassment.
“Ah.” Grooota said, raising a whizzing, clicking arm and beckoning down several large display screens. Several of what Tearen assumed to be schematics began flashing across the screen, showing the biology of the Heart Queen and her inner mechanical capacity to create synthetic versions of anything she came into contact with. It didn’t necessarily display the power of her telepathic abilities, but Tearen got the concept altogether. Sort of a ‘Prime Weirdling’ she had the ability to intuitively integrate biological and mechanical workings together into singular forms.
“We called her Jezebel. Very promising, as I’m sure you may have surmised. She proved to be a tad too...egomaniacal. No control systems worked. Mechanically she was perfect.” Grooota said, his many fingered hands running down the length of his metal-wire beard. Small snaps of static could be heard across the breadth of the hanging dias. He seemed to linger on whatever thought Jezebel had conjured, and Tearen wondered if there was some hidden significance to the weirdling queen, beyond her functional potential. The pensive moment was banished as the echoing broadcast of Grooota’s voice continued.
“As for the fluid: Coolant. It takes a rather large volume of it to keep the ash-towers from melting into slag. Jezebel had been grafted onto Cistern Twelve-N for almost five years, it will be good to have it fully functional again.” Grooota said, a few panels flipping over to images of weld-demons going about their arduous work.
“So, that was not the only facility of that kind.” Tearen said, his green eyes flicking from one screen to another.
“Oh, no no. There are dozens of them throughout the city. Neither were those all of the weirdlings infesting the pump lines, but it certainly put dent in their numbers. You’re not quite like the other Primes that have passed through the Hellscape.” Grooota said, raising a very deliberate eyebrow at Tearen. The shadow had a bad feeling about where this was going, but he would play along for now. A wide, toothless grin spread across the bronze senior’s face, his tubular eyes failing to betray any indication of hidden motive. Tearen was starting to remember why he hated artificial intelligence so much. “I think you’ll do just fine, yes. Perhaps we can strike an accord. Tell me, have you heard of the colosseums?”
“I’m aware of the appeal of bloodsport in the Omniverse at large. I can only imagine the draw such competition has in this environment. I’m to be your new favored fighter, then?” Tearen asked, shifting his weight from one foot to another. It was these subtle human mannerisms that had been beyond his willingness to perform for quite sometime, but now that he was doing them again, Tearen was beginning to see just how obnoxiously they came across. Grooota’s grin only widened further, almost to the point that it was evocative of Omni.
“Always to the point with you. Excellent. Yes, I think you’ll be a fine addition to my long list of past competitors. My first Prime too. Exciting!” Grooota enthused, tapping the tips of his steepled fingers together.
“I don’t actually have a say in this, do I.” Tearen grumbled. Grooota let out a peal of echoing laughter and shook his head slowly. All at once, a great weaving of magical lines flared to life all along the hanging platform, tracing a great pentagram across the floor. Tearen found his feet bound to the floor, unable to move. Twin robotic arms descended from the pervasive steam overhead and wrenched his arms upwards, spreading the black-glass flesh of his back. A third robotic arm descended, an angry looking orange light burning at its tip. Tearen cringed forwards as a seething hot laser began to etch a complex series of designs into the mineral-esque flesh of his back. The whole process took about three minutes, a span of time which Tearen was certain had been purposefully extended. At the end of the branding, Tearen used one of his Aspects to inspect the still-glowing runes that had been burned upon him.
“Intricate.” Tearen said simply. Just play along. An opportunity would present itself eventually. Grooota stretched his brushed metal lips into a bemused smirk. Clearly there was very little that could phase this new Prime plaything of his. It would be to Grooota’s benefit within the coliseums, but would also be problematic if the need came for discipline.
“Thank you, yes. A formality really. With you marked in this manner, no other coliseum masters could just poach you on a whim.” Grooota said, waving a dismissive hand. Of course, yes, this also had something to do with making Tearen Grooota’s legal property, but the shadow really doubted that any legal efforts on Grooota’s part mattered that much outside the urban bloat of his city center.
“Where do I go now?” Tearen asked softly. He was determined to appear cooperative, not broken. He doubted that a demon entity such as Grooota, even being an artificial intelligence, would really be able to acknowledge the difference. A great cloud of steam whispered forth from the vents around the avatar’s throne, wisping around the digital monarch’s head.
“Well, you’ll have to start small. I’ll see to it that you’re entered for ranking in the nearest officiated colosseum tournament. I think it’s going to be a free-for-all. Should be right up your alley.” Grooota said in a chiding chuckle. Tearen wasn’t exactly sure what the cyber-monarch meant by that, but it was worth keeping his own thoughts to himself. The less insight Grooota had into his thought-process, the better...
Oh, but where would the fun in that be? Besides, despite having recovered his sense of humanity (or something very close to that), Tearen still had just as much ambition as he had posessed when he’d still been the Enigma. Most likely by this point, Grooota had written him off for dead. To stride back through the brazen doors of the city’s central tower, unhampered by a pair of dullard demon henchmen, would send a powerful statement to the demon metropolis. From there, Nealaphh could acquire all the information he needed to know.
Dedicated to this plan of action, the shadow surged up through the milky slop in a great, splashing burst. Tearen ascended meteorically through the darkness of the reservoir, feeling the eyes of the startled demon workmen following him. He could taste their awe in the depths of his mind, as well as confusion. These two emotions were the sweetest ingredients to concocting a comfortable feeling of superiority. As Tearen flew up through the aperture into the orange, smokey skies of Grooota, he took a look around, trying to spot the spire he had originally been examined in. It was hard to get a sense of direction in the Underverse, especially with the sky obscured by great clouds of ash. He did remember, though, that the ash is what had formed that immense, black desert he originally found himself in. If he flew in the direction of the drifting soot, he should at least eventually get close to his starting point.
In a little over a quarter of an hour, the doors to Grooota’s tower flung themselves open as Tearen strode boldly through. The few token guardians at the entrance had not been dispatched, they had simply been made to believe that Tearen was supposed to be there. Human or not, bending the minds of others would always have its uses, and just because he had recovered a basic sense of morality did not mean he was above pragmatism. The Central Spire was silent, save from the clicks and hisses from his last time here. The myriad television screens no longer showed a wall of snowy static, however. They all showed Tearen on their screens, tracking his movement through the scrap-metal citadel. A tittering, ethereal chuckle accompanied the shadow as he ascended the long steps to the uppermost platform where he had first met the demon avatar.
Arriving on the large, metallic plinthe, the large hulks of semi-conscious machinery now blinked actively, and the animatronic corpulence of Grooota’s terminal body seemed to be awake and moving. Its blank, metal eyes stared directly ahead as Tearen approached, his fingers steepled as the shadow approached. The trouble with machine consciousnesses such as Grooota was that Tearen could not sift through their surface thoughts for hidden motives or agendas. Additionally, he couldn’t speak directly to the machine with his telepathy, so he would have to do it via proxy. He would have to be very careful with how he handled this situation, since summoning his more vocal Aspects could be seen as a threat.
“So, you weren’t pulverized like we had all thought. Impressive.”
Tearen paused a moment before causing his dozen tetrahedrons to spontaneously manifest. The Grooota puppet made no immediate physical reaction, but Tearen did notice a faint thrumming sound begin to emanate from the electronic hulks that also encircled the platform. Some form of defense, most likely. That meant that they were important items in this room, not the spectacle of the half-octopoid geriatric that was enthroned before him. The Aspects all chimed in unison as Tearen broadcasted his thoughts through their resonant forms.
“I’ve no time for pleasantries, Grooota, only answers.” Tearen snapped back, crossing his obsidian arms. Another peal of hoarse chuckling rang throughout the chamber.
“Ohoh...have some fire back in us, have we?” Grooota replied, clearly bemused by Tearen’s show of bravado. The avatar may have also been referring to the glinting pair of green eyes which once again burned where a face should have been.
“Indeed. Though I do not presume to be in a position of power over you, I am in need of information. It would be preferable to me for us to cooperate.” Tearen said softly.
“How-”
Grooota began to say something with a sharp edge in his tone, but Tearen cut him off.
“Please spare me your tired rhetoric of ‘owing me nothing’ and how I am ‘mere scum to be incinerated on a whim.’ You’ve seen the damage I can do. You think I couldn’t obliterate this entire tower of yours if I so much as felt the need to?”
The words rang loudly through the chamber before Grooota ran a hand over his beard. The tone that came in response was more smug than Tearen had been expecting.
“What I was going to say…” Grooota said with a heavy pause, “...was ‘How may I be of assistance?’ I also have no patience for the ritualistic posturing between demons and their supplicants, so let us get to business.”
Damn. Tearen had lost some ground in that exchange. He had betrayed that he was not beyond making hasty conclusions about other people’s behavior based on this new environment. Already the effects of his renewed sense of humanity were showing through. It was a sign of his inexperience that would never be lived down, despite how subtle its effect might be. In a phrase, he had been one-upped. Still, he couldn’t allow his humiliation to show through; enough damage had already been done.
“In that case, explain the weirdling matriarch and her environs.” Tearen said in a straightforward tone, betraying no sense of shame nor embarrassment.
“Ah.” Grooota said, raising a whizzing, clicking arm and beckoning down several large display screens. Several of what Tearen assumed to be schematics began flashing across the screen, showing the biology of the Heart Queen and her inner mechanical capacity to create synthetic versions of anything she came into contact with. It didn’t necessarily display the power of her telepathic abilities, but Tearen got the concept altogether. Sort of a ‘Prime Weirdling’ she had the ability to intuitively integrate biological and mechanical workings together into singular forms.
“We called her Jezebel. Very promising, as I’m sure you may have surmised. She proved to be a tad too...egomaniacal. No control systems worked. Mechanically she was perfect.” Grooota said, his many fingered hands running down the length of his metal-wire beard. Small snaps of static could be heard across the breadth of the hanging dias. He seemed to linger on whatever thought Jezebel had conjured, and Tearen wondered if there was some hidden significance to the weirdling queen, beyond her functional potential. The pensive moment was banished as the echoing broadcast of Grooota’s voice continued.
“As for the fluid: Coolant. It takes a rather large volume of it to keep the ash-towers from melting into slag. Jezebel had been grafted onto Cistern Twelve-N for almost five years, it will be good to have it fully functional again.” Grooota said, a few panels flipping over to images of weld-demons going about their arduous work.
“So, that was not the only facility of that kind.” Tearen said, his green eyes flicking from one screen to another.
“Oh, no no. There are dozens of them throughout the city. Neither were those all of the weirdlings infesting the pump lines, but it certainly put dent in their numbers. You’re not quite like the other Primes that have passed through the Hellscape.” Grooota said, raising a very deliberate eyebrow at Tearen. The shadow had a bad feeling about where this was going, but he would play along for now. A wide, toothless grin spread across the bronze senior’s face, his tubular eyes failing to betray any indication of hidden motive. Tearen was starting to remember why he hated artificial intelligence so much. “I think you’ll do just fine, yes. Perhaps we can strike an accord. Tell me, have you heard of the colosseums?”
“I’m aware of the appeal of bloodsport in the Omniverse at large. I can only imagine the draw such competition has in this environment. I’m to be your new favored fighter, then?” Tearen asked, shifting his weight from one foot to another. It was these subtle human mannerisms that had been beyond his willingness to perform for quite sometime, but now that he was doing them again, Tearen was beginning to see just how obnoxiously they came across. Grooota’s grin only widened further, almost to the point that it was evocative of Omni.
“Always to the point with you. Excellent. Yes, I think you’ll be a fine addition to my long list of past competitors. My first Prime too. Exciting!” Grooota enthused, tapping the tips of his steepled fingers together.
“I don’t actually have a say in this, do I.” Tearen grumbled. Grooota let out a peal of echoing laughter and shook his head slowly. All at once, a great weaving of magical lines flared to life all along the hanging platform, tracing a great pentagram across the floor. Tearen found his feet bound to the floor, unable to move. Twin robotic arms descended from the pervasive steam overhead and wrenched his arms upwards, spreading the black-glass flesh of his back. A third robotic arm descended, an angry looking orange light burning at its tip. Tearen cringed forwards as a seething hot laser began to etch a complex series of designs into the mineral-esque flesh of his back. The whole process took about three minutes, a span of time which Tearen was certain had been purposefully extended. At the end of the branding, Tearen used one of his Aspects to inspect the still-glowing runes that had been burned upon him.
“Intricate.” Tearen said simply. Just play along. An opportunity would present itself eventually. Grooota stretched his brushed metal lips into a bemused smirk. Clearly there was very little that could phase this new Prime plaything of his. It would be to Grooota’s benefit within the coliseums, but would also be problematic if the need came for discipline.
“Thank you, yes. A formality really. With you marked in this manner, no other coliseum masters could just poach you on a whim.” Grooota said, waving a dismissive hand. Of course, yes, this also had something to do with making Tearen Grooota’s legal property, but the shadow really doubted that any legal efforts on Grooota’s part mattered that much outside the urban bloat of his city center.
“Where do I go now?” Tearen asked softly. He was determined to appear cooperative, not broken. He doubted that a demon entity such as Grooota, even being an artificial intelligence, would really be able to acknowledge the difference. A great cloud of steam whispered forth from the vents around the avatar’s throne, wisping around the digital monarch’s head.
“Well, you’ll have to start small. I’ll see to it that you’re entered for ranking in the nearest officiated colosseum tournament. I think it’s going to be a free-for-all. Should be right up your alley.” Grooota said in a chiding chuckle. Tearen wasn’t exactly sure what the cyber-monarch meant by that, but it was worth keeping his own thoughts to himself. The less insight Grooota had into his thought-process, the better...
And, we dream of home I dream of life out of here Their dreams are small My dreams don't know fear I got my heart full of hope I will change everything No matter what I'm told How impossible it seems We did it before And we'll do it again We're indestructible Even when we're tired And we've been here before Just you and I
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued