07-06-2014, 06:47 AM
This was not hell.
The final goodbye to Genkai had gone smoothly. He had only one thing left, one thing to look forward to, which was ten thousand years of torture before his soul was erased like it had never been at all. He'd walked through the rotted, imposing door with grim determination, steadfast will, stepped through ... into something entirely different.
No ghouls whispered to him here, as they had been while he walked into his own chosen hell. No phantom breath or disembodied voices hissed you killed in his ear. No grinning ghosts of the children he'd trained, and his victims innocent and cruel, sent to meet him in the Spirit World, surrounded him. Instead, there had been blackness, and a voice instructing him, giving a phantasmagoric gift of something made of rainbows. Now black volcanic sand he sunk into up to his ankles was pooled on every side, beyond which there was nothing but white in every direction, a strange sense of illumination, and beyond, an array of bizarre-looking doors.
Toguro glanced back over his shoulder, where a final door built entirely of light was misting about the edges. Fountain of Infinity—the words came unbidden to his mind. A strange thing, considering it should have been the gates to hell, manned by beetle-eyed devils. Even now, the ability to feel anything but pain should have been stripped from him, sliced from his very soul like a lobotomy. But he was in no pain and there were no cruel tormentors there with pasty, manic grins, waiting see him in agony.
Toguro sniffed, cracked his knuckles, and slid his scarred hands deep into his World War I-era trench coat, green, which hung off his shoulders and accentuated his shirtless muscles beneath. Unflappable as always, he chose the Western door, which was manned by the tiny dots of toy soldiers, beginning to slog in that direction.
Toguro had an affinity with soldiers: they were glorified mercenaries, and thus did what he did, though less specialized. These were wearing silly helmets and white uniforms. He would find out more from them there, hopefully.
He wished he had his old motorcycle, and then came another shock: he realized, as if the foreign thought had been implanted into his brain, that he could make one.
He imagined it, a big state-of-the-art hog with gleaming red fixtures. Rather like gathering power through meditation, he sat down in the velvety sand, black as midnight.
For five minutes he sat, concentrating hard on the image in his head. Finally, his favorite motorcycle stood before him, fat and thick. Feeling distinctly more cheerful, he pushed it arduously past the sand and swung a muscular leg over to climb on after the last grains were gone. He revved the engine, satisfied, and set out on it toward the Western gate, over the endless white so complete it felt like he might plunge into it, his fate unknown, but not truly frightening.
Toguro rode for an hour in the dizzying white expanse, before finally, the gate he'd chosen was towering over him. It was built of steel, looking rather like Sakyo's portal to Demon World, though without the crackling lightning energy.
"Welcome to Coruscant, Prime," said a guard, flashing a rogue grin.
Toguro blinked behind his designer sunglasses, a thin eyebrow cocking. "Prime?" he asked casually. "What's a prime? And what's through there?" he added, jerking a solid chin toward the portal.
"You're a prime!" chirped the guard, getting a glare from the second that spoke of hours of duty next to a chatterbox. "One summoned by Omni himself from the Fountain of Infinity." Toguro felt chills run up his spine from the "Most of us are secondaries," he finished wistfully. "Summoned by a Prime, you see. We can't achieve your power. And that is the Empire, the greatest civilization in the Omniverse. You'll be an Empire man, then?" he finished slyly.
Toguro hardly liked feeling so mystified, and having no idea what was going on. For a man used to having a grasp of his situation, it was strange to be at a loss. "If you mean having an affiliation to it, I have no idea," Toguro grumped. "Is there a power struggle in the works?"
Games of power he certainly understood. He'd seen some people skulking near the Fountain, some dressed as these soldiers, some looking more like woodland scouts, and avoided them entirely. He wouldn't throw his lot in with anyone until he had a clearer idea of what to do and where to go.
The loud-mouthed guard began a boring explanation of the merits of Coruscant and the evils of Camelot, with brief mentions of the other worlds. He finished off with, "And be sure not to be banished to the Underverse, Prime. That is a fate worse than death."
Toguro nodded, chilled and mildly irritated, but still took polite leave of the guards and pushed his bike through the gate, arriving into Coruscant.
The final goodbye to Genkai had gone smoothly. He had only one thing left, one thing to look forward to, which was ten thousand years of torture before his soul was erased like it had never been at all. He'd walked through the rotted, imposing door with grim determination, steadfast will, stepped through ... into something entirely different.
No ghouls whispered to him here, as they had been while he walked into his own chosen hell. No phantom breath or disembodied voices hissed you killed in his ear. No grinning ghosts of the children he'd trained, and his victims innocent and cruel, sent to meet him in the Spirit World, surrounded him. Instead, there had been blackness, and a voice instructing him, giving a phantasmagoric gift of something made of rainbows. Now black volcanic sand he sunk into up to his ankles was pooled on every side, beyond which there was nothing but white in every direction, a strange sense of illumination, and beyond, an array of bizarre-looking doors.
Toguro glanced back over his shoulder, where a final door built entirely of light was misting about the edges. Fountain of Infinity—the words came unbidden to his mind. A strange thing, considering it should have been the gates to hell, manned by beetle-eyed devils. Even now, the ability to feel anything but pain should have been stripped from him, sliced from his very soul like a lobotomy. But he was in no pain and there were no cruel tormentors there with pasty, manic grins, waiting see him in agony.
Toguro sniffed, cracked his knuckles, and slid his scarred hands deep into his World War I-era trench coat, green, which hung off his shoulders and accentuated his shirtless muscles beneath. Unflappable as always, he chose the Western door, which was manned by the tiny dots of toy soldiers, beginning to slog in that direction.
Toguro had an affinity with soldiers: they were glorified mercenaries, and thus did what he did, though less specialized. These were wearing silly helmets and white uniforms. He would find out more from them there, hopefully.
He wished he had his old motorcycle, and then came another shock: he realized, as if the foreign thought had been implanted into his brain, that he could make one.
He imagined it, a big state-of-the-art hog with gleaming red fixtures. Rather like gathering power through meditation, he sat down in the velvety sand, black as midnight.
For five minutes he sat, concentrating hard on the image in his head. Finally, his favorite motorcycle stood before him, fat and thick. Feeling distinctly more cheerful, he pushed it arduously past the sand and swung a muscular leg over to climb on after the last grains were gone. He revved the engine, satisfied, and set out on it toward the Western gate, over the endless white so complete it felt like he might plunge into it, his fate unknown, but not truly frightening.
Toguro rode for an hour in the dizzying white expanse, before finally, the gate he'd chosen was towering over him. It was built of steel, looking rather like Sakyo's portal to Demon World, though without the crackling lightning energy.
"Welcome to Coruscant, Prime," said a guard, flashing a rogue grin.
Toguro blinked behind his designer sunglasses, a thin eyebrow cocking. "Prime?" he asked casually. "What's a prime? And what's through there?" he added, jerking a solid chin toward the portal.
"You're a prime!" chirped the guard, getting a glare from the second that spoke of hours of duty next to a chatterbox. "One summoned by Omni himself from the Fountain of Infinity." Toguro felt chills run up his spine from the "Most of us are secondaries," he finished wistfully. "Summoned by a Prime, you see. We can't achieve your power. And that is the Empire, the greatest civilization in the Omniverse. You'll be an Empire man, then?" he finished slyly.
Toguro hardly liked feeling so mystified, and having no idea what was going on. For a man used to having a grasp of his situation, it was strange to be at a loss. "If you mean having an affiliation to it, I have no idea," Toguro grumped. "Is there a power struggle in the works?"
Games of power he certainly understood. He'd seen some people skulking near the Fountain, some dressed as these soldiers, some looking more like woodland scouts, and avoided them entirely. He wouldn't throw his lot in with anyone until he had a clearer idea of what to do and where to go.
The loud-mouthed guard began a boring explanation of the merits of Coruscant and the evils of Camelot, with brief mentions of the other worlds. He finished off with, "And be sure not to be banished to the Underverse, Prime. That is a fate worse than death."
Toguro nodded, chilled and mildly irritated, but still took polite leave of the guards and pushed his bike through the gate, arriving into Coruscant.