Corruption in Costa Del Sol

[Okor]

The festering form of Okor leaned against the graffiti-coated wall, his acidic excretions scarring his own unique marker onto the gang sigils spray-painted onto the stone. His senses were turned inwards as he shrouded himself in shadow, oblivious to the slow degradation of the architecture and Hiro’s demiurgical design of their transportation. He was far more interested in the digital disease running rampant through every subsystem of his armour, and how it seamlessly seeped through the machine interface ports embedded deep within his fetid flesh.

He could feel it wrapping itself around his brain stem, sinking its barbs deep into a corroded cerebellum. Bloody froth ran from his mouth, flooding his helmet as jagged fangs severed his tongue, clouded crystal sludge freed from his veins. His limbs spasmed as the greatest addition to his internal ecosystem yet continued to spread, its spread unchecked as it ravaged his nervous system. There was no doubt as to the infectiousness and severity of the infection, now intractably woven into his very being. Through a maw filled to the brim with his own blood, he succumbed to Glossolalia, the incomprehensible speech of the dark Gods being second nature, his mind easily accommodating the seeming gibberish that flowed freely from his broken mind.

It was glorious.

He could see the legacy of the virus now dwelling within him, his unblinking eye forcing itself wide as his mind was immersed in an infopocalypse, an absurd amount of data being forced upon him.

The savage sands of ancient Terra, barely sentient humans wallowing in the muddy banks of a river flanked with the clay. They were unthinking, unfeeling, little more than beasts that could not yet realize the squalor in which they dwelled.

And then, they looked at the stars.

Knowledge. Power. Civilization. All stemming from a single errant signal from beyond the stars, its binary genome surviving millennia of travel as little more than flashes of light.

In at least one reality, the entirety of human history could be attributed to disease, a mirror of the blessed symbiosis that existed inside of Nurgle’s adherents. It may have been stamped out, fought against, and denied, but it was never eradicated, the cult of this Asherah surviving as it awaited its moment to infect the world.

He shuddered as he exited the ecstatic reverie, opening his eyes once more to look upon his companion. Omni’s energies gathered in his hands as he called back memories long-past, a pitch-black pistol forming in his grasp, spikes and shards adorning it, only adding to the sense of danger that emanated from its construction.

Hiro had almost finished their work, sparkling ribbons of Omnillium flowing from their nimble fingers, equally adept with both code and blade, forming a sleek black automobile, with only the occasional bulk hinting at the armoured plating beneath. The windows were tinted and undoubtedly bulletproof, ensuring that neither prying eyes nor assassins would get any satisfaction from the operator of the craft.

Nurgle’s Chosen moved forward, stepping out from the shadows he had secreted himself in as he admired the craftsmanship of the car, its ebon surface shining under the dim lights of Costa Del Sol’s dying sun. The tires upon which it sat were nearly absurdly thick, their surface hugging the ground tighter than any lover. His steel-coated skull nodded in approval, the sable spoiler shimmering into existence as the finishing touch upon the sleek sedan.

He tossed the recently forged firearm over the vehicle, his companion catching it gingerly, wary of the blades protruding from it. “The hell is this? If you’re trying to stab me from death from over there, I applaud the effort, but still…”

”Shuriken pistol. Fires mono...molecular blades at a rate faster than anyone’s cared to measure.”

A low whistle escaped their lips as they admired the instrument of annihilation. “Damn, that’s pretty sweet. How do you reload it?”

”Monomolecular blades. Reloading is a problem for your great-grandchildren.”

A single motion of his mummified arm pulled the door open, his malodorous mass sliding inside of an expanded cockpit, the reinforced seat beneath him groaning under his weight. The heroic hacker took a more dexterous approach to his entrance, leaping feet-first through an opened window, landing into the driver’s side seat as he rapidly performed a series of pre-drive checks, a veritable smorgasboards of switches being flipped as the beast beneath them came to life. It snarled like a rabid hound, a gentle rumble running through it as a digital flame alighted in its grill, illusionary flames spreading across it as its mechanical heart ignited.

A final flip of the switch filled the coal-black cabin with sound, a thick Vostroyvan accent accompanied by the steady beat of drums and guitars, the Digital Daimyo’s fingers tapping across the wheel as he moved a hand to the clutch.

”Is this racket… Wise?” Spoke Okor, the din threatening to drown out his dolorous tone.

“Two things,” replied Hiro, raising two fingers to the plague-ridden purveyor of pestilence. “First off, there’s music for every occasion. It’d be worse doing something like this without a theme song, than doing it in silence.”

”And the second?”

Their vehicle kicked into motion, tires squealing as the svelte craft careened down the narrow backstreets of the Imperial City, the orange light of the fictional flames set into the grill flickering across the brick walls. The eccentric energy of the music shook their surroundings, the vibration of their surroundings attributable to either the movement of their vehicle or the bombastic bass.

Their chariot of fire drifted around a corner, a pixelated pyre resplendent as they raced forward, the stormtroopers ahead of them scrambling to move out of the way, their barriers forgotten as they realized there was no stopping the apocalyptic vision before them. It encroached the reflective surface of the Nexus Gate, the roar of the engine comparable to the screech of the now-felled Volvagia, the heroes of the hour charging forth in a glorified Pizza Delivery car.

The day saved in 30 minutes or less, or it’s free.