A Cold Cold Path

[Corporal Light]

He could not possibly comprehend what was going on. Even his shade, the ghost, the very being of logic housed within his body; even he could not immediately figure out what had occurred to Mister Lynch.

The kid hadn’t changed much since the last time he saw him. He still wore all black, had pale skin, and was so skinny he could be mistaken for an ashened skeleton. Yet there was obviously something different, something wrong, about Koal. It required nary a few moments for him to be able to discern why.

A dark, red glow emanated from him.

"You want to stop a war?! Well you're just one man. We're a dime a dozen here Ballad, the natives of this place are probably well versed in the art of eradicating primes!"

Instantly, the kid snapped back, slamming into the rock wall behind him. He brought his hands to his face, fingers arched as if to claw off his skin. Paint his face with his own blood. He whimpered. What in the hell had happened to him?

Instinctively, Ballad took a step forward, his gloved hand reaching out towards him. He then halted as Koal growled at him, piercing him with violet eyes and barely concealed fangs.

Then, without warning, his shadow self appeared to his left, pointing to his hand-pick. His eyes flickered white.

Ballad, you damn fool, attack.

What?!

We do not have time for this. Attack.

Why?! He’s trying to help us, you dumbass!

Was. This isn’t Koal Lynch. Attack.

He barely kept his words underneath a mere whisper, hiding the true nature of his internal argument to all around him. “Koal Lynch,” however, did not appear fooled. He stared at him, seeing nothing but a man debating with himself, his eyes rapidly changing colors from white to yellow to white to yellow again. His arms and body emitted the same black, murky shadows, stopping the argument as the gunsmith looked back at him. Those shadows appeared to be almost like muscle, but upon closer inspection, were thin layers upon layers of shadowy tendrils, all sliding out of the pores of his skin like smoke from fire.

There just wasn’t any possible way it could be. It just couldn’t. It was impossible!

Before SPB could fully think about what he was witnessing, their former ally spoke.

“Are-are you going to kill me? I don't know who you are, but I keep seeing things. I don't know who you are, yet I keep seeing that I've met you. Spoken with you.”

Probably because you have, Koal. What the hell is the matter with you? thought the gunsmith, remaining silent as the kid spoke. It made no sense to the inventor; how had Lynch managed to go from a pathetic, overly needy teenager with an angel guardian to… whatever the hell this thing was?

All that SPB knew, however, was that this thing was not their friend anymore. One wrong step, and they would find themselves on the ground, their innards being chewed up and their bones gnawed; their disemboweled, dismembered corpses fed to birds and all kinds of other nasty creatures. It was only Ballad, the damn moron, that stayed him.

As the kid began to chuckle, the internal debate within his body progressed, no side backing down.

Ballad, you do not understand. We are in danger. Attack, before you get yourself killed!

I’m not laying a damn finger on him until I figure out what the fuck is wrong with him!

Do that, and he’ll kill you. I’ll explain later, but for now, you have to trust me.

No.

BALLAD.

Shut. Up.

He bared his teeth behind his red scarf, growling out the last sentence to the shade that no one else could possibly see. He felt a swift tug in his stomach, a rising heat in his throat. He swallowed, letting out a loud groan of pain as he reached for his neck. His eyes switched to a stark white, holding onto his neck so as to prevent himself from retching into his scarf while he spoke.

“Koal, I have no clue what it is happening to you, but I need you to calm down. I’m not going to hurt you unless you give me an excuse, and right now, you’re acting like you’re about to tear me apart, which is more than enough of an excuse for me to retaliate tenfold.”

He removed his hand from his neck, looking into Koal’s eyes. They were bright red, like that of a demon’s. He was chuckling, his laughter echoing around the cave. He wasn’t even certain if he was even paying attention, but he had to try. The last thing he wanted was to kill the poor soul; as obnoxious as the kid could be, he was still an ally and, to put in the most honest of terms possible, someone to talk to, or at the very least spend a few minutes with before moving on with the day.

“Please, Koal…” he said, his voice low and pleasant, a sound he hadn’t made since he had arrived in the Omniverse, “I do not want to hurt you.”

Finally, the red glow began to dissipate, plunging the cavern back into darkness as the kid’s face softened. Soon after, Chara relit his lantern, having watched the debacle with mild interest before turning towards his flower friend. Scarecrow had evidently left, presumably to let the two sort things out between each other, and the machine had disappeared unexpectedly. In the meantime, the two quickly got reacquainted, though it soon spiraled back into an argument as to why Koal hadn’t gotten the tomes from Coruscant like he had asked.

“What tomes?! I don’t remember any tomes!” said Koal, tossing him arms in the air.

“The tomes that the Coruscant library possessed, o Lynch!” the gunsmith replied, his eyes glowing yellow, “they housed crucial details on every realm that this multiverse has! I distinctly remember ordering you to obtain them as part of a quest!”

He was about to ask what the hell the quest even was when they were interrupted by Scarecrow. They both looked towards the bony, psychotic scientist, staring at the piece of parchment in his hand. Instantly, Ballad knew what he was going to ask. SPB had been correct, just as he had predicted. Soon, a small semi-circle had formed around him, with Ascension taking the back. The sharpshooter took a quick, cautious glance behind him at the metal, genocidal behemoth before listening to the speech.

It did not take long for the others around him to jump forward to sign the document. He and Koal, however, resisted the notion. Why wouldn’t they, anyway? It was clear to Ballad that Koal did not approve of what was transpiring; his face made it all clear to him. He understood; these people were nothing more than maniacal criminals with a thirst for chaos and bloodshed. They were the very thing he needed to rid the Omniverse of.

Yet even he knew that they were the very same people he needed in order to bring back peace. Who else was going to help him? Not the Avengers, whose website had been posted on the Dataverse some time ago. They were traditional heroes; they were the kind to bring peace by cracking down on illegal activities all over the multiverse. A noble sentiment, indeed.

It just didn’t. Fucking. Work.

They could ring in as many criminals as they could, but it would change nothing. They lived in a world where some people had the power to rise back from the dead, who could make anything they want out of a substance of conjuration, and held immense power above all others. Their actions would only minorly inconvenience them at best. As for the ones who could not do that? They were replaceable; for each non-Prime that fell, three more could be formed to take his or her place. Death held no meaning in this place, no consequence, no justification for existing.

The only thing that would stop them is if they never existed in the first place.

He flinched as Scarecrow pointed at him, asking him to join their cause.

All eyes were upon him. He looked around, seeing Koal’s purple eyes settle upon him. He knew what he was asking. ‘Do not do it.’

He only wished he had an option in the matter.

Without a word, he walked forward, took the pen, and placed it on the parchment, beginning to write.