This wouldn't be the first time I've posted a fanfiction on these forums, but every time I did it was met with failure; that is, no one looked at them. But after making that poll thread asking if anyone would care to read, and getting some acceptable responses, I decided to give it another shot.
Title: Mother 3.5: Resolution (Working title, I'm open to suggestions for a better one.)
Fandom: Mother/Earthbound
Genre: Mystery/Adventure
Summary: The world has become a chaotic place. Civil war has consumed the entire planet, a fight to determine people's right to exist, a delicate conflict that threatens to be humanity's ultimate downfall. Only a being from another time and place can save this world that doesn't want to be saved.
Just some warnings for you:
-The story will be long, and the chapters (or verses in this case) will be long. This first part of the prologue is no exception. Make sure you have time to devote to it.
-There will be graphic depictions of everything relevant, including violence. Nothing M-rated, but still not for the squeamish.
And please remember, constructive criticism is appreciated, both on writing and formatting standpoints. Don't be afraid to tell me if there's something you don't like.
Now, if you aren't deterred... then enjoy.
Mother 3.5: Resolution
Prologue: The Boy from Nowhere, Verse 1 (click the spoiler)
Spoiler
Prologue: The Boy from Nowhere
Verse 1
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Now continues a story... of humans and aliens... a tale of two peoples, so different, and yet so similar...
Their fates first intertwined in a moment of terror, when a pair of loving humans were presented a spectacle of almost mythical proportions, when an alien, a child, had literally crash-landed in the vicinity of their home. The hearts of the humans were big and non-discriminating, and thus they took the poor child in as their own. They couldn't have known that this single act of generousity had begun to turn the wheels of fate...
A month had gone by before the alien race whom the child belonged to came in search of him. In that time he and the human couple had become quite attached, and intrigued and thankful for this safety, they didn't have the heart to separate them. However, their kind held great secrets which they couldn't allow to be revealed, and thus the only choice was to take the child, the man and the woman with them to their home. Despite the odd circumstances of the abduction, they seemed not to mind, in fact they were interested in visiting a new world. There they would learn the alien's secret: what they called "Psychokinetics" or "PSI," the power of the mind. It was of no surprise to anyone that the humans would be intrigued by the mysterious mental power, however it lead to something that even amazed the aliens; the humans could learn this power as well. It lead to an interesting relationship between the human couple and their abductors.
However, the wheels of fate continued to turn, and their chains pulled at the humans. They pulled them in the direction of Earth. Indeed, as time went on, they yearned for their old home, yearned for those there that they missed so dearly. However, now that they knew the alien's secrets, they couldn't simply leave, in fear of their knowledge falling into the wrong hands. But while the aliens pressed this warning unto them, they didn't heed it. Throwing law and caution to the wind, they attempted to escape the alien civilization, leaving the distraught alien child behind. However, only the male made it back to humanity. The woman was never heard from again, and the man was a broken and beaten shadow of what he once was. He began to study the secrets of PSI on his own in seclusion, until suddenly... he disappeared again, this time never to return. The happy couple soon faded into history...
Time went on, and the aliens observed the people of Earth with a deep bitterness and anger that the human couple had left them with. Their judgements of the human race led them to believe that they were savage and greedy, and the knowledge that they could now have their secrets was a heavy burden on their shoulders, especially that of the alien child. They didn't know what to do... it was only when eighty years later when that same alien child, filled with rage and spite towards humans for being abandoned so, spoke up with the only viable solution: systematic and covert termination of all the humans with their stolen secrets. And the child himself swore to do it. The beginnings of the attack were subtle and imperceptible to the humans, controlling the weak-minded creatures on the planet to do his bidding. Then he would send out his own forces, machines built for the sole purpose of destruction. But eventually, the attack was thwarted... by none other than the grandchild of that happy couple, and his friends, with a song. It was a song that was sung to him by the boy's grandmother, a lullaby meant to sooth him to sleep. The song was both mentally exhausting and physically painful to hear again, to the extent that the young alien was ultimately forced to retreat. The aliens were flabbergasted to see their champion return in such a pitiful state. And despite all of this, the effort of the couple's grandchild and the battle with the alien was never known to the humans...
Another century later, the alien, no longer a child, allowed his rage and spite for the human race to build up and grow until he planned another attack. A full-scale invasion this time, no longer after select humans, but believing that they were all dangerous, a sentiment echoed by the rest of his kind. He was coming to destroy them all. And mid-way into the invasion, just like before, he found his efforts stalled by a group of children not unlike those led by the happy couple's grandchild. By this point his rage had boiled over, and not willing to let the humans best him again, he decided to use his ultimate weapon: a forbidden machine meant to amplify his power to unfathomable levels, at the risk of irreparably damaging his body and mind. But he cared not; he aimed to complete the task at which his forces failed, and wipe out those children and the rest of humanity himself. He let the machine fuel his power and desire for vengeance... and true to the warnings, he was horribly transformed. The final result was something far beyond what humans would describe as an "abomination." A being representing the hatred and fear of the entire human race. An embodiment of pure evil. And even then... the children did not falter. They charged into battle, and despite the numerous odds stacked against them, the vengeful alien was finally defeated.
For the aliens, concern and terror hung over them like a thick blanket when news of their champion's demise reached them. Their ultimate warrior and their ultimate weapon had failed them. The humans had become too powerful them to handle, and they feared that with their existence announced to humanity with the invasion, that they were on the brink of interplanetary war. Their compromise was something completely radical and unexpected, something that the humans couldn't possibly have been prepared for...
The day their plan was enacted was a terrifying moment for the entire human race.
It was an experimental project of the aliens, called the "Planet Container." It was a massive construct, even bigger than the Planet Earth itself: a hollow sphere, made to simulate the ecosystems and atmosphere of the target planet perfectly, allowing them to live as if nothing happened... the only difference being that those contained inside may never, ever leave. The moment the Planet Container closed around the Earth was the last that the aliens were ever heard from again.
Despite the finest and most stubborn efforts of the humans, they could not do anything to the Planet Container. They could not damage it. They could not move it. When they realized that they were permanently trapped, the Earth descended into chaos. The humans who practiced PSI were blamed for this disaster, and those humans eventually began to revolt in response to the prejudice. It wasn't long before the entire planet was plunged into civil war... a war that would never reach the rest of the universe, just as the aliens had hoped for.
This is where our story leaves off, in the midst of this great war...
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"So many apples! Are we gonna make apple pie?"
Ah, the innocence of youth... "Sure."
"Yay!" the young, hyperactive six-year-old boy cheered, carelessly hefting a bag of apples that almost had to be as big as he was. It was almost amusing to see him swinging it around so easily for a person his age.
"I hope we have enough for the week... what with the stores closing down..." said a more mature boy to his left, taller and roughly in his teenage years, carrying two bags of assorted foods and drinks. Both of the children had short, black hair, and had an obvious height difference due to their age. What stood out was their clothing... or perhaps lack thereof. They weren't really clothes, more like rags. Enough to keep them decent and keep them warm at night. Oh, how he wished he could do more for them...
"I'm afraid we'll have to manage." said the one in between them, listening to them... an old man, so old that his face was wrinkled to the point that one might mistake it for a rubber mask. All that remained of his hair was on the sides forming a circle around his head; the rest of his forehead was bald, dishevelled and spotted. He was shorter than the teenage boy and somewhat pudgy, and utilized a wooden cane to help him walk. "But I'm sure we'll pull through, we always do. We're just lucky they were having a sale this late at night." Lucky indeed... at least there were still some people in these slums that remembered what generousity was. He was happy that there were good people left on this Earth other than himself... or at least, that's what he liked to think.
Regardless of their run of luck tonight however, they were careful. The slums held more bad people than they did good, and they wanted to make it home as quickly as possible. They took the usual shortcut, through an alleyway a couple of blocks away from the store they had bought their groceries from. That was when the young child noticed something quite peculiar that stood out in the alleyway. Ever curious, he said, "Eh? What's that?"
"Hmm?" the old man hummed with intrigue, looking where the child was pointing. It was a dull-green in colour, but reflected quite brightly under the light of the fake moon... he thought it to be a discarded garbage bag at first, but when he saw that it had been torn and fashioned in a way that it was wearable, it caught his interest. He decided to take a closer look, and the teenage boy walked alongside him, as if protecting him.
It turned out not to be necessary though. The chances were that the one wearing this trash bag trench coat was a thief or a pickpocket; such types of people made these alleyways home. In this specific case, however... the subject was a young boy. Not much younger than the teenage boy. All that could be seen of him was his frazzled blonde hair and the tormented expression on his young face.
But the old man looked at him with much more interest... as if he could see something they could not. It almost made him want to smile, but given the seriousness of the situation, he did not. "This boy is in pain..." he informed his escorts.
"Should we take him with us?" the teenage boy asked.
The old man nodded. "Yes. There's no reason for him to stay in such a place." he agreed. "Help him up onto my back, carefully now."
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It wasn't too long of a trip after that. The children waiting at home were quite worried about them during their brief outing, but greatly relieved when they returned. This was normal, and they had every right to be concerned with the neighbourhood as it was. But it certainly wasn't normal for them to be carrying someone with them, a face they hadn't seen before. The younger children showed curiousity. The older children showed suspicion. But everyone showed concern.
"There's no need to worry, everyone. He's just fine." the old man assured them all, holding his hand up to silence them all. "But he'll need some rest in a real bed, though. So while Timothy and I prepare a room, I want you all to prepare for apple pie."
As the little boy held up his bag of apples to show to everyone, the younger children erupted into a chorus of cheers. It was a long time since they'd had any proper food, and it made them excited. The old man chuckled to himself. How he longed for the years when he was younger, when he could see only the light in the world like these youngsters could... but alas, those days were over, and his remaining ones were numbered. So while the little boy delivered the apples so they could get started with cooking, the old man and his teenage escort made their way to the stairs.
The house they lived in was a relatively small space, but it had been refurbished to be liveable for all of the eight children and the old man himself. The teenage boy named Timothy offered to help him up the stairs, but he politely refused; he wasn't totally helpless yet. Nonetheless he followed, having only an inkling as to why the old man insisted upon it. Typically when they were alone, it lead to more... serious discussions.
Timothy closed the upstairs door behind him, and the old man carefully lowered the blonde-haired boy onto the nearest unoccupied hammock. This single, dark room was filled with them, divided by curtains with two hammocks to a space. Four for the youngsters, four for the teens and one for himself. Showing signs of exhaustion, the old man willed himself into the rocking chair in the centre of the room, a place he used either to relax or to entertain the little ones with stories. Timothy looked at him with pity. He used to be such a strong man... but even the strongest of people age and wither with time... losing their power.
Seeing no more need for the garbage bag the boy wore, Timothy removed it from him carefully so that he wouldn't be abruptly awoken. Beneath it was clothing that was hardly fit for the damp, cold alley he had chosen to sleep in, a simple t-shirt and denim shorts. The yellow and orange stripes on the shirt and the blue threads on the shorts had become dull and colour, and they both had numerous tatters. It was obvious that these clothes were long past their prime. As for the boy himself, his skin was pale, and his hair was messy and greasy. He probably hadn't had a decent meal or bath in days. If he did have a body odour though, it was masked by the scent of the trash bag.
Wanting to break the tense silence, Timothy decided to speak his mind. "This isn't a normal boy, is he?" he asked.
He looked to the old man, and he wasn't at all surprised but nonetheless unnerved to see that his usually squinted-shut eyes were now wide open, and glowing with alternating and fluctuating shades of red, yellow and blue that would hurt to look at if they were any brighter. His mysterious gaze was fixated on the boy. Then, the glowing stopped. His eyes returned to their normal state, and he wore his trademark, wide grin. "Not even close, Timothy. This boy has the ability to use Formless PSI."
Even in the darkness of the room, it was easy to see that Timothy's jaw had dropped. It took him a moment before he could find anything else to say. "You're sure you're not going senile, right?" he accused.
"Oh, maybe... I have been waiting for this moment long enough to have driven me batty." the old man admitted. "But I promise it's true, this boy definitely has Formless PSI. I could never mistake it for anything else." The old man slipped a hand into his ragged jacket, if one could even call it a jacket, and pulled something out of it. It was a mid-sized, black pocket book. Most men his age would carry something like a bible, but this book held a significance all on its own. When Timothy saw it, he knew the old man was deadly serious. He knew what the book was, and he knew that there were only two reasons it would ever leave his interior pocket. The first was simply to transfer between coats. The second was to give to a certain individual... a certain individual with the ability to use Formless PSI that he had been waiting for. "I hate to throw the poor boy into this mess, but now... he's the only hope this world has left." he continued. He extended his arm to hand the book to Timothy. "Please, when the time comes, give this to him. Make sure he guards it with his life."
With a hesitant nod, Timothy took the book from him, and for a moment he could only stare at its black, hard cover. This was a great responsibility both he and the boy were being entrusted with. This book contained secrets that would lead to a great power, a power that in the wrong hands could bring upon a disaster like nothing ever seen before. But in the right hands, it could be the thing that saves this world from what it's become...
"Timothy..." the old man rasped, spooking Timothy for a moment, At first he thought he was angry that he hadn't put the book away and quickly stuffed it in his pocket, but it turned out to be something else. "You must know what this boy's presence means. The day has come..."
Timothy's face turned a ghastly white. "The day" had come? The old man had been speaking about "the day" for a long time. He was a man who had presumably seen the future... it was for this reason he knew about the boy. And also that it meant the old man's time was near an end. In the surprises of this evening, he had forgotten this crucial fact.
"This place will no longer be safe soon. When the dead of night comes, I want you to take him the children and get them to safety. Long enough to let the children enjoy their meal, but no later than midnight."
The air around Timothy had become unsure, depressed. The old man had expected this, quite honestly. "You're sure there's no way to help you?"
"...I'm sorry." was his only reply. "This is as far ahead as I've seen. If you stay, and the enemy is a powerful one, more powerful than even me. If you stay, you'll only die with me."
"I... understand." Timothy slowly said, trying to fight back tears that were threatening to well up in his eyes. It made him feel so wretched and inept... to know this was coming, only not to be able to do a goddamn thing about it. But he'd remain composed in front of him. There would be time to mourn later. "It's been an honour to serve you, Sir."
The old man closed his eyes and smiled. "Timothy... you're the most trusted out of everyone under me. I know you won't let me down."
It rekindled his faith a bit, to hear that from his commander. He always got the job done. Not once had he betrayed the trust of the old man, and until his last breath he swore he never would. Timothy owed him that much.
With much on his mind, Timothy excused himself and went downstairs to aid the children in cooking supper, provided he could even enjoy the meal now. The old man sighed. He was leaving his people with a great burden to carry, and he was simply too weak now to shoulder it himself. What he wouldn't give to relive his glory days just once in this nightmare of a world... but he knew it was impossible. He wasn't getting any younger. Soon, either by time or by the hand of the enemy, he was going to pass on. So the only choice that remained was to pass his responsibilities onto a younger generation. His only wish was that it didn't involve extending this poor child's suffering... but he didn't know that for sure. The boy might find a home in this world, people to care for him, to give him a reason to live and fight. He could only hope and pray...
"The fate of the world rests with you from now on... Lucas..."
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It wasn't every day that people were treated to such a surreal sight, and in a world such as this, the term "surreal" was not used often. The two people walking down the streets of the shopping district were revered by some, but feared by all for many different reasons. One was a tall, lanky man who wore an outfit not at all unlike that of a modern-day detective. Brown dress pants, a lengthy brown jacket with a white, buttoned shirt underneath, and a simple brown hat that did well in shadowing his eyes. This man was feared for his political power, known for being cruel and merciless. The one walking with him was much more eye-catching however, if only for the fact that a dazzling, silver light covered the person's figure. So dazzling in fact that it hurt to look at. The only reason one would know it was a person was the silver, waist-length hair. This one was feared for the power at its command, power that had made many, many people meet an untimely end.
To see these two beings in these simple, backwater slums was a terrifying surprise to everyone that night. People inside of their homes locked their doors and shut their window blinds if they hadn't been already. People still outside rushed into their homes or hid in the nearest convenient spot. Those with no other option either pressed themselves flat to the walls to stay out of their way, or curled up into the fetal position so they were less likely to be noticed.
But there was one person in the slums that night that wasn't satisfied with running and hiding. This person, like some others, had a serious bone to pick with these two people, and wouldn't be satisfied until they were made to suffer. Donning a cloak as black as the night, he peered out from one of the back alleys. He was fairly large, but his muscles weren't what he planned to use. As the two people walked past, he extended his hand out. Sparks began to crackle out of the bare hand, sparks that were gradually getting bigger. Before long his hand was covered in crackling and snapping electricity. When he felt the time was right, he leapt out of the alley and quiet as any man could be, and went to jam the electrified hand into the back of the lanky man's neck.
Shiich!
The attacker didn't even get within five feet of his target before he was impaled. Not by one, but at the exact same moment by two silver, shining blades, held by what seemed to be no one and nothing, the ends sticking out of his back dyed red with his blood. One went through his stomach, the other through his heart. The pain must have been excruciating if the opened-mouthed, agonized expression on his face was any indication, so much so that he couldn't even scream. Nor would he get the chance, for the blades then sliced through either side of his body, one to the left and one to the right, before returning and slicing through the other side. The screams then instead came from the horrified onlookers, watching the three eviscerated portions of the man's body fall to the ground.
The keen-eyed observer would note that the person bathed in silver light had stopped moving while the blades performed their gruesome work, and only resumed walking when the blades moved into the light. The lanky man, on the other hand, kept going as if nothing had happened. But if his face wasn't shadowed by the girl's dazzling light, people would be able to see his wide grin of amusement.
Their leisurely walk stopped only when they reached their destination, a blackened, dilapidated-looking building that had only two floors. The old man's orphanage. "Life-form scan complete." spoke the being covered in light. It was a woman's voice, not sounding much older than that of a teenager. It would sound like the voice of an angel if it weren't robotic and monotone. "One life-form detected. Psychokinetic aura readings confirmed; located on the second floor. Estimated threat level is SS."
The lanky man's grin only widened more, to the point where one might mistake his face for that of a hyena. "Just like I thought. He's definitely here." His voice was only a little bit deep for the age of thirty he appeared to be, lazy and hissing with a sinister intent. "Keep watch out here. I'd hate to have any interruptions like back there..." he ordered without so much as a backward glance at his escort.
"Acknowledged."
The man was growing excited. With a powerful thrust of his boot, not even bothering to try the doorknob, the rotting door was broken open and swung around into the wall with a loud bang. Hands tucked into the exterior pockets of his jacket, he went inside and inspected the surroundings. The house was much more pleasing to the eye on the inside, and he could clearly see this since the lights were left on. While there was little that could be done about the appearance of the walls, the ceiling, floor and various furniture looked almost perfectly fine. Cutlery and plates were left on the dinner table, some even with uneaten food. He swiftly picked a piece of what appeared to be an unfinished piece of pie and chomped off a small part. Apple. And still warm. And yet there was no sign of the little children who had dined in here. "The old codger must've shooed them away. Knew I was coming..." He couldn't say he was surprised. He always had this way of keeping one step ahead...
Deciding not to waste any more time getting to the confrontation, he lurched his way up the stairs, taking two stairs at a time instead of one simply because his long legs allowed it. Carefully balancing himself on the top step, he again kicked down the door in his way in the hopes of spooking the old man. The calm voice that awaited within belonged to a man that was anything but spooked, however. “Come on, you’re older than I am. Don’t you know how to knock?” came the weathered, almost amused reply from inside the second floor room.
There, right there, was the reason he was here. He only briefly regarded the curtained-off sections of the room and the unoccupied hammocks inside, and then gave the old man rocking in his rocking chair his undivided attention. The “younger” man’s arms left his jacket, and he gave him an open-armed shrug. “Sorry, just couldn’t wait to finally bring you in.” he replied smugly.
The old man chuckled, almost laughed. “Maybe if I heard that from the President I’d believe it, but I know you quite a bit better than that.”
The edges of the lanky man’s mouth curved upwards into a sinister smile and he chuckled... and then his body arched backwards as a bellowing, cackling laughter echoed out of him. When he managed to recompose himself, he looked at the old man with excitement. “Well then, I’ll just go ahead and cut to the chase...”
There was hardly any warning before he thrust his arms at the old man’s rag jacket, encountering no resistance as he opened it wide and peered his head inside. When he saw that there was nothing of value hidden inside, in fact nothing at all, his mouth curved into a disappointed frown. The old man only grinned and told him casually, “My mind hasn’t totally gone. I’ve already given it away.”
The man chuckled before looking the old man in the eyes again, narrow, golden pupils almost boring into his faded purple ones. He regained his ghastly smile. “Making things hard for me until the very end, hmm? That’s what I like about you... you keep things interesting.” he cooed. He then let go of the old man’s jacket and stood up straight again. “But as they say, all good things must come to an end... I’ll just have to pry the info out of your mind before you roll over and die.”
The old man only smiled wider. “Go ahead and try.” he challenged.
The lanky man cackled again, greatly amused. “You don’t really think you can stop me with that withered husk of a brain, do you?” he taunted.
“Oh, of course not.” the old man agreed. “But I’ll bet I can give you one hell of a headache.”
A sinister chuckle from the lanky man was the last verbal response that came out of either of them. The room was soon alight with bright glows emanating from both of their eyes. The old man’s, a shifting aura of red, yellow and blue. The lanky man’s, a gaze of alternating shades of red and black. “So he’s really going to resist with whatever life is left in that bag of rotting meat...” the lanky man thought.
The only visible signs of a struggle were the lights coming out of their eyes, but there was so much more happening. Their clash of power was so intense, that the room itself started to shake...
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For Timothy, midnight was coming much too soon. Explaining to the orphans that they had to leave without going into exactly why was a difficult and awkward task. Understandably the younger children were willing to do as they were told, but the older ones were a little wiser and more pensive about just leaving their home that they had known for three stressful years. Timothy had promised to explain everything to them when they were in a safe place and no sooner than that, and while this visibly frustrated the teenagers, they would just have to put up with it. They would understand after everything was done... Timothy could only hope.
They were a good distance from the orphanage now, about five blocks, and the further away they got, the less comfortable they were getting. The still-sleeping blonde Timothy had to carry on his back was somewhat symbolic of the burden he was left with, he thought. He really wished he’d wake up already. He wasn’t heavy, but he’d have trouble protecting everyone if he had to piggyback this boy at the same time.
“You still haven’t told us where we’re going, Tim.” reminded one of the teenage orphans, a brown-haired girl with pigtails. She was known for being rather stuck-up.
“And I keep telling you, now isn’t the time for questions, Lanette.” Timothy replied curtly, trying to keep his temper in check, a task the girl named Lanette was making very difficult. This was the fourth time she asked.
“Well that’s too fucking bad!” she snapped back at him, stomping the ground with her shoe. Her sudden outburst caused everyone to stop and look at them both, much to Timothy’s dismay. “We’re going out in the middle of the night in a place where all sorts of creeps sneak around, leaving our grandpa behind, and you haven’t even told us why!” she screeched. Now everyone was looking solely at Timothy, even the children, clearly wanting an explanation. “I am not moving one more step until we get some ans--”
She didn’t even get to finish, or if she had, no one had been able to hear her before the scene descended into chaos. There was the unmistakeable sound of an explosion from not too far away. It was so powerful that not only did it shake the paved ground they stood on, but they could feel the shockwave from it like a bass note through their chests, so intense that everyone was knocked off of their feet. For a good mile, glass was shattered, the few cars in the slums had their alarms set off, and buildings close to the blast had been knocked off of their foundations. People were lucky if they could hear Timothy’s shout of “Jesus Christ!” over the ringing in their ears.
But that wasn’t the main part of the spectacle, for from ground zero, a display of light cut through the darkness of midnight, as if to spite the false sky above them. It was a tower of light crackling with red, yellow and blue in the centre, with a very visible red outline on the outside. It shot straight up like a laser, and it kept going... kept going until everyone could see that it actually connected with the walls of their ridiculously oversized prison. Visible flashes of light, explosions from the looks of them, starting to spread out from the point of impact. The tower of light soon faded, but the damage it did to the Planet Container carried on, spreading out like cracks. It was clear that damage had indeed been done when they moved across the false moon, becoming lined with black spots along the image.
Finally managing to get his breath back, Timothy shakily got to his feet, vaguely aware of a warm sensation on the back of his neck... damn, was he bleeding? No, it felt more like... breath. Obviously he wasn’t breathing out of the back of his neck. The boy must’ve been awoken by the explosion. Hell, who wouldn’t have been woken up by that?
“Is everyone okay!?” he shouted to the orphans, trying to use a higher volume to overcome the deafness they must have sustained. He looked around, and much to his relief and surprise, everyone was getting up. From where he was standing he could see that they took a few cuts and bruises from getting knocked onto the hard pavement, but otherwise they seemed to be just fine. Relieved only for a moment, he turned back to Lanette, who was also standing up and literally shaking in her outworn boots. “That’s why we’re leaving. Now stop shaking and start running!”
No sooner had he shouted at her did she take off like a bullet, going in the direction Timothy had initially pointed out to them. One look from the angered teenager was all it took for the rest of the orphans to follow suit and chase after her. He would follow shortly after, just taking a moment to look back in the direction of the explosion of light... he knew it was from the orphanage, and he knew what it meant.
“Damn... you weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to go out with a bang, old man...” he lamented, before turning on his heel and pursuing the others. Like he told himself before, there would be time to mourn after they were to safety.
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At ground zero, there was nothing indicating that there used to be anything where the orphanage once stood. It looked more like the plot had been used by locals to dump their trash at. The buildings on either side had to be at least ten feet off of their original positions, and looked in worse shape than the orphanage had originally.
Across the street, the silver-lighted girl exited the house she had been blasted into through the hole she had made upon entry. If one could see her face, it would appear completely stoic, devoid of emotion. She moved towards the wreckage of the orphanage, looking at it intently as if looking for something. When she found that something, she stepped over the ruins towards it.
But she hadn’t had the chance to even bend down to get it before it moved of its own volition. A hand shot out of the pile of wood, blowing whatever shrapnel was in its way far into the sky. The brown sleeve around that hand was visibly torn and had blood leaking out of it. That hand then clamped down on the nearest solid piece of wood it found, and the entire, lanky owner of that hand pulled himself out. He was a mess, battered and bleeding all over. There wasn’t a single part of his body or clothing that wasn’t bloodied or tattered in some way. And yet for some bizarre reason, his hat had managed to stay on his head.
He seemed to completely disregard his company, looking straight forward at another body that had fortunately managed to land on top of the wreckage unlike him. The body of the old man that had dared to contest him was in even worse condition than he was. He was covered in blood and torn clothes just like him, but one of his arms and one of his legs were bent in fashions nature couldn’t possibly have intended. And his head was... another matter... to put it into perspective, it looked like a bomb had exploded out of the top of his skull.
That last part was the first thing the lanky man took note of, and when he realized what it meant, he was furious. Any hopes of probing his brain for information were now completely pointless; a destroyed brain was about as good a destroyed disk drive. The old man was useless now, and this didn’t fill his lanky nemesis with a great sense of joy. With a mighty kick, there was a sickening rip as the remains of the old man’s head were forcefully removed from its body, flying through the air like a soccer ball. “Senile old bastard!” the lanky man shouted in rage. He wasn’t just here for personal reasons, the old man had very valuable information he needed, and he went so far as to effectively take his own life in order to protect it... “Damn... all that work put into finding him, gone to waste!” Then he started to stumble forwards, a sudden wave of weakness passing through him and disrupting his usually-perfect balance, compounded by his head throbbing harshly. “Damn, he did a number on me... even gave me that headache he promised...”
“Multiple injuries detected. Sir, you require medical attention.” his shining companion stated.
“Forget about it, I can take care of myself!” the lanky man snapped back as his head whipped around to face her. “You have other things to do. The old man always kept a bodyguard with him. Get your squad moving, find him and bring him to me!” he ordered. “But first, kill his stragglers! We can’t chance any of them being latent Psychokinetics! Tear these slums apart until they’re found!”
“Acknowledged.” the girl said, before she started walking down the street opposite in the direction they had arrived from.
The lanky man watched as she left, before turning back to the old man’s decapitated corpse. Despite his rage, he couldn’t help but grin. “Well... is our game still on, or is it all fated to end in these slums? Guess we’ll find out~”
--------------------
As per Timothy’s orders, he and the orphans still ran. They still didn’t know what was happening. First they snuck out of their own home, then there was that huge explosion of light, and now they were running – presumably for their lives – through the slums that they lived in. The sounds of their shoes and boots clapping and echoing against the pavement and their heavy breathing made it sound like they were like a small army marching, onto a battlefield where shots of gunfire rang out. The Planet Container was still displaying the effects of that phenomenon, the psychedelic crack-like lights still running along its interior, still causing explosions. It was only now that they started to hear them, and only barely over their own noise.
“Wh-what’s going on!? Why am I on your back!?” the blonde-haired boy cried, clearly not content with this chaotic situation and hanging onto Timothy’s shoulders for dear life.
“No time for questions! Just hold on tight!” Timothy replied to him, before turning his attention to the others. “Keep going, guys! We’re almost there!”
“Where is ‘there?’” Lanette asked.
“Outside of the slums! People are waiting for us there!” Timothy answered, finally giving his companions some information regarding this surprise marathon... though still frustratingly little.
But further down the street, something threatened to put that marathon to an abrupt end. Out of one of the left-side alleyways, one, two, three people clad in silver marched out and turned to face them in disturbingly perfect unison. The silver colouring in their appearance was, in fact, full body armor, covering them from the tips of their toes all the way to their helmets. Held in both of their hands were equally-silver... guns. High-calibre rifles with elongated bayonets, audibly and visibly cocked and then pointed at the orphans, like a firing squad. The only thing not silver on these things were their visors, a singular, bright red iris in the middle surrounded by inky black. Their sudden and menacing appearance brought everyone to a halt.
“Shit!” Timothy cursed aloud, ignoring the boy on his back for a minute and bending down to reach into his boots... pulling something out of both.
“Target acquired.” All three of them said at once, again all at the same time. They looked like they were about to shoot...
Three loud bangs echoed throughout the streets... but the smoking barrels they originated from did not belong to the ones holding the rifles. In fact, those three were no longer standing, stumbling either backwards or forwards from having their heads literally exploded to pieces. It wasn’t as gory as one might expect, as instead of blood and brain matter flying in all directions, it was pieces of shattered armor and sparking machinery littering the ground around them. They were shaped like humans, but they definitely weren’t humans. They were machines. But then who was the one responsible for their destruction? All the terrified eyes of the orphans turned to Timothy, who had guns of his own pointed where the robots were standing. High-calibre revolvers, each with a long blade extending past the end of their smoking barrels.
“Damn it... I didn’t think they’d be here!” Timothy growled, lowering his arms that were still shaking from the adrenaline rush.
“Holy shit... you’re fucking Resistance, aren’t you!?” Lanette exclaimed in shock, partially from anger that this had been kept hidden from them all, partially in horror at how easily he had dispatched their would-be attackers. “I knew it! I fucking knew it!”
Timothy shot her a stern glare and countered, “Yes, I am Resistance, which means I’m your only chance of getting out of here alive! You have no right to complain!” Lanette promptly shut her mouth. “Now keep running! Keep running and whatever you do, don’t stop!” There was no more convincing needed on anyone’s part before they were off again. He turned to the horrified blonde and said, “You too, kid! I can’t protect everyone with you hanging off my back!”
“O-okay!” the boy stammered, hopping off his back and rushing ahead with Timothy back to the others. It briefly crossed his mind that perhaps the boy could be very helpful now that the situation had changed; the old man did say he was a Psychokinetic. But given the nature of the enemy and just how precious the boy was supposed to be to Earth’s future, it might not be wise to reveal his hidden potential to his friends or the enemy just yet. No, for now Timothy decided to treat him just like he would the orphans and protect him with his life.
And there was no shortage of threats to that life. More silver-clad robots similar in appearance and handled equipment to the previous three began to emerge from the various alleyways along the street, either from behind or in front of the fledglings. Timothy decided to take care of the ones that barred their path first, doing his best to keep the way clear; it was a good thing that he was taller than the people he was saving, it meant they weren’t in his line of fire. He took periodic, brief glances at the ones behind him, firing on those who got too close. He had to keep ahead of them, because they moved faster than him. But Timothy could tell it would be an ultimately futile effort. “Damn! I didn’t think there would be this many this fast!” he thought in panic as adrenaline pumped through his veins again, barely able to regard that within the last minute or two, he’d had to shoot down a total of ten robots, and there were at least another ten behind him. It did not help that his ammunition was limited. Not only was it difficult to reload a revolver while moving, or without free hands, but his aim was also suffering because he had to keep moving.
Meanwhile, the blonde-haired boy was making his own observations of the enemy as he ran. He looked at them before they were rendered junk. If the orphans or Timothy had been staring at him in their panic, which they were not, they would’ve noticed that his eyes were glowing a vibrant green. He was turning this stare on any active robot, as if he were trying to find something. “No emotion... not even blood... but they look so human...!”
Another robot leapt out from the alleyway nearest Timothy, recognizing him as the immediate threat, wielding the bayonet of its rifle with the intent of skewering him. Timothy was quick to react, blocking the incoming blade with the one on his own revolver, and then shot the would-be assassin away with the other. He then heard another coming from behind him while his back was turned, but was much less stealthy. That one found himself with a gun-blade in his head, cracking the visor before a round from the barrel that gun-blade belonged to blew it to pieces. Timothy had kept track of the shots he used up to this point and knew the gun chambers were empty, so he stuck closer to the orphans while reaching into his ragged jacket and pulling out a handful of bullets. He cursed under his breath as his less-than-graceful reloading action allowed him to drop a couple of shells before he could cram them all into the chamber of the left revolver, but four was definitely better than none.
That slight moment of delay would cost him. A pair of robots came out in front of the orphans, one from each side of the street. Timothy shot one down, another headshot, but the other was quick to retaliate, and he could not bit back the scream of agony as he felt the rifle round tear through his left shoulder. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to fire the loaded revolver with that arm, he dropped the empty one and put the useable one in his right hand, then opened fire. Two shots, one through where the heart would be and the other into the head. The orphans and the boy turned to him in alarm at the yelp he made, and gasped and screamed in horror upon seeing the large, bleeding hole in his jacket. “Keep going! We’re almost there!” he urged them, trying to get them to ignore it while trying to ignore it himself. They just had to go a little further...!
Then, something caught everyone’s attention. From behind them, something was coming, something shiny and bright, tearing through the fake night sky. That something kept going past them, and stopped moving forward only when it was in front of them, touching down to the ground slowly. Radiating silver light so intense that it hurt the eyes. The orphans, blinded by the thing, had to stop running. This time, Timothy wasn’t as bothered that they had stopped, but instead was less inclined to go forward himself now. In an instant his blood felt like it had turned to ice, such was the chill that sudden, absolute fear provided. He was afraid, because he knew what had dared to get in their way. “Shit...”
The light died down slightly, allowing everyone to see just what the shining thing looked like. It was a woman not much older than Timothy was, her long, silver hair reaching down just past her waist. The armor the person was an equally radiant shade of silver, thin-looking and not covering the upper arms, upper legs or the stomach. Obscuring her face was a visor similar to that of the other robots, but without the single red eye and without the helmet part, letting her hair move freely in the wind. What appeared to be eight long blades were sticking out from behind her, patterned in some kind of star shape. “Target acquired.” spoke the light in an eerily calm, monotone voice, almost like a robot. “Subjects determined to be the missing orphans from the orphanage of Resistance Leader ‘Old Man.’”
Timothy managed to shake off his fear for a moment, stepping in front of the terrified orphans, prepared to defend them with his life. “You just can’t let me catch a break, can you...”
“New arrival. Subject identified as Resistance Lieutenant Timothy McGuiness. Common company of Resistance Leader ‘Old Man.’ Threat level B. Current bounty: $20,000,000.” she said, very much acting like a robot too. She then replied, “My directive is not to let you ‘catch a break.’ As a member of the Resistance, you are an enemy of the world that must be terminated.” Timothy’s expression was decidedly solemn. He didn’t speak as he reached into his jacket and pulled out more bullets, ignoring the pain from moving his arm as he made sure to fully load the revolver this time.
But while he appeared calm and collected, boldly standing up to this apparent enemy, the blonde-haired boy could tell that he was anything but. He didn’t need psychokinetic powers to feel the utter dread radiating off of him. But what terrified him even more was the enemy itself. ”She’s... psychic!? Is she... just like Brother!?” his mind screamed, horrible memories flooding back to him. He took a step backward, but could hear the footsteps of the other silver-clad robots coming from behind him and yelped in fright.
Timothy knew right then, without even looking backward, that they were surrounded. There was no escape now, and he knew it. He sighed in defeat and said, “Fine, you finally caught me...” He looked back to the orphans with apparent sorrow in his eyes, worried about what would become of them... he turned back to the light and pleaded, “Just... let the children go... take me instead...”
“Negative.” Timothy’s jaw went completely agape from surprise. Her response had no thought behind it, no hesitation. “Your capture is a secondary objective. My primary objective is the immediate termination of the orphans.”
“Wh... what!?” Timothy, Lanette and the blonde boy shouted in shock and utter terror. The rest could only wail, unable to fathom why they would be the main target in the presence of someone with such a large bounty on his head.
“Subjects were under the care of Resistance Leader ‘Old Man.’ The possibility that the subjects are latent Psychokinetics cannot be overlooked. Furthermore, you are already unable to escape and pose no threat to my objectives.” she explained. “Do not resist.”
The orphans huddled together, afraid of what would happen. But when Timothy took a moment to find his inner rage, he decided to ignore her observations regardless of how apt they were. “Like hell I won’t resist!”
There was no more warning before he pulled the trigger, six consecutive times, every bullet aimed for a different part of her head. But he couldn’t possibly hope that even one shot made it to its intended destination, and sure enough, they did not. Four of the blades had come off of her back, floating in front of her in a cross formation, a wall of silver light pulsing from the tips of the blades. The bullets that Timothy fired were on the ground, half-crushed from what only could’ve been impacting that wall of light. “Pointless.”
The wall of light faded, allowing two of the blades that formed it to return to her back, while the other two flew with lightning speed and impaled Timothy both in his right leg and his only good shoulder. The impact had knocked the wind out of him, a strangled gasp his only reply as he fell backward to the ground. His companions screamed in horror. “Tim!” Lanette wailed.
The robot girl started walking towards them, and when they tried to back off, they realized it was futile due to the robots behind them, weapons aimed at them. The situation was only getting bleaker with every step she took. “Be grateful my orders are to apprehend you alive. A fortune not shared by the orphans you swore to protect.”
“D... damn you...!” Timothy coughed, trying to get up, but then the blades pushed harder, embedding themselves in the pavement below him. Now he was trapped. She herself just walked past him.
Almost all of the orphans coward in sheer terror, all but one. “You bitch!” Lanette roared, displaying quite a bit more athletic ability than she did previously by bring her foot up to robot girl’s face, but her rage-induced attempt at self-defense was for naught, as it never actually reached her face. It was instead stopped by a blade that flew off of her back, impaling that foot and forcing a blood-curdling scream out of her as the force sent her spinning to the ground. The agony wasn’t helped when the blade twisted upwards, also embedding itself in the hard pavement so that Lanette was also stuck. Another blade flew off of the robot girl’s back, slowly, pointed directly at her helpless body...
“Begin termination.”
Many emotions were running rampant through everyone there. For Timothy, the shame and disappointment that he couldn’t even protect these people. For Lanette, the utter horror her like was about to end. For the orphans, the grim, gut-wrenching fear that came from the knowledge that they would be next.
“Stop it!”
But from the blonde boy was the blatant difference from the rest, a kind of righteous fury building up in him as he rushed at the robot girl. His speed was surprising, and focused on her goal of “terminating” Lanette she had no time to react before his fist collided with her cheek. But more surprising was the power behind that fist, sending her flying back a good few feet, a good distance past Timothy before stopping on at her original spot... but she did not fall down. She was more... hovering in mid-air, her body keeping the position in which it had ended up after the punch. Though no one was able to notice in the chaos, the robot soldiers behind them suddenly convulsed and fell to the ground.
“How... how dare you!” the blonde boy shouted in anger, and now all eyes were on him. Now they saw the green glow in his eyes, and for a brief moment they could see that the arm that had delivered the punch was glowing orange before it returned to its normal colour. “These orphans... these children haven’t done anything to you! What right do you have to just... kill them!?”
The robot girl started to lean upright, her mouth making a thin line. The cheek where the punch landed was a shade of red that wasn’t at all subtle against her pale skin. “New arrival. Subject’s identity is unknown. Psychokinetic energy detected within subject. Estimated threat level is A.” she said, before finally replying to him, “I am only operating on the directives given to me by my superiors. Because of your ability to use PSI, you must be terminated, and the others afterward in the event that they may also have latent psychokinetic abilities.”
The blonde boy growled. “I won’t let you!” he challenged, running in front of Lanette, and then in front of Timothy, intent on protecting them, protecting all of them.
“You... are you crazy, kid!?” Timothy shouted at the boy in clear disapproval. “Only people with a death wish pick a fight with a PSIber-”
The robot girl’s blades shot out of the ground, interrupting Timothy’s rant and eliciting another agonized scream from Lanette. The bloodied blades flew back to their owner. “PSIber... is that what this thing is called?” Despite the criticism however, the boy was unfazed. “Being a little hypocritical, aren’t you?” he countered. “Whatever. Right now it’s trying to kill people, and I won’t stand for that!”
“But you’ll be killed!” Timothy countered.
“I don’t care...”
“But... wha... what...?” the Resistance member was left understandably speechless, along with everyone else.
The blonde boy looked back to him... his eyes weren’t glowing anymore, and for the first time Timothy could see what they really looked like. His actual eye colour was a dull blue... he almost looked... sad. Soulless even. “I’ve lost everything I wanted to protect once... because I wouldn’t fight...” He turned back to the enemy. “If I can’t use this power to protect others, then there’s nothing left for me to live for anyway...”
It was a scant few sentences, but they gave Timothy a glimpse into the boy’s personality... and it scared him. He’d seen people like him before, people with that dreadful outlook on life and that half-dead look in their eyes. This boy himself said he had lost something very precious to him, and Timothy knew what the pain of loss could do to a man. For the first time ever, he wondered if the old man’s instincts were wrong... he, for one, didn’t believe someone so bleak could take on the burden of saving the world...
“Initiating combat mode.” His grim fascination evidently was not shared by the robot girl called a “PSIber.” The blades on her back, instead of just flying out at their target, began spinning like a helicopter rotor. Some parts of the back of her armour also extended out, looking to be an “x” shape from the front. These parts began to glow with that same silver light, and she started to hover off of the ground. “Begin termination.”
The green glow returned to the boy’s eyes, and he prepared for what the first move would be. There was no avoiding the fight now. He would protect these people or die trying. The PSIber started with the tried-and-true method of dispatching enemies: a barrage of her floating blades, this time launching a total of four. Tempting though it was to move out of the way, the boy remembered that everyone else was right behind him. He couldn’t move without putting them in harm’s way. Then he would have to make everything he did count. Just as the blades launched, he thrust his arms forward with a grunt, and they were stopped in mid-flight by some kind of wall that appeared between them and him. A protective barrier, composed of a half-dome of yellow octagons. The tips of the blades pushed fervently against the barrier, the places where they struck sparking and crackling from the force. The orphans and the Resistance soldier watched with shock and awe as her attack was stopped in its tracks.
Seeing that the attack was having no effect, the PSIber decided to up the ante. Now the remaining four blades tore through the air and impacted the shield. Now it was starting to have an effect. The force of all eight blades pressing on the barrier at once was starting to push the boy back, and he growled as he tried to resist. As he struggled however, the shield was creaking and buckling, as if the collection of octagons were a single, solid construct. More than that, those with a good enough angle could see that cuts were starting to form on the boy’s hands and arms, and those cuts were bleeding. It seemed that the barrier didn’t stop all of the incoming damage.
But in spite of all this, the boy persevered. With a scream of effort, he pushed forward once again, and the shield glowed with energy. All at once, the blades that had stuck into here were blown back like shrapnel from a grenade, and it was only through sheer luck that none of them struck their owner as they tumbled past her. If anyone cared enough to listen for it, they would’ve heard her gasp in surprise, a stark contrast to her normally-robotic actions. For the blonde boy, that moment of surprise was an opportunity. He was running at her from the moment the blades were bounced away, his skin again glowing with an orange light, and it took only a couple of seconds to reach her. His attacks were relentless. A punch to the gut, another to the previously unharmed cheek, a roundhouse kick to her exposed jaw.
The orphans began to cheer for him. “Go! Go! Get her!” “Beat her up good!” “C’mon, stay on her!”
He was going to continue as she staggered backward, but his eyes were also on the blades, and they were coming back. He jumped backward to avoid getting skewered, and instead three blades got stuck in the pavement. Then he saw another opportunity: If these blades were the PSIber’s main means of offense, then he’d get rid of them. He extended his palm at them, and it began to glow with a green light. When the light left, it started to expand into the shape of a hexagon.
Timothy’s eyes widened, to the point that anyone looking might they think were about to fall out of his head. “That’s...!”
It was all he could say before the sound of what could only be described as clanging chimes filled the air, a noise made by the attack. The hexagon of light didn’t launch at the blades, but rather other hexagons shot out of the original, each one exploding like shining, green fireworks upon contact. When the attack was over, the blades were nothing more than bits of scrap metal scattered along the ground.
The PSIber had managed to regain her balance in time to see what had transpired, and judging from what she said next, she wasn’t happy. “Target has access to an unlisted PSI ability. Threat level miscalculated. Suggested course of action: terminate the company to better focus on target.” Her five remaining blades readjusting into a perfect star shape in the absence of their partners, she started flying above the ground, making no effort to hide that she was going to move around the boy and go for the others. It was a brief scare for the orphans.
But the boy would have none of it, and intercepted her. She tried to skewer him again with every blade she had left, to at least move him out of the way, and even rushed at him with a hard knee. But he created his shield again, and everything collided with it. Tears were abruptly formed in the boy’s shirt, but even then he stood his ground. The PSIber barely had the time to realize that she had just made a big mistake, before his right hand started to glow green again. “Get lost!”
The green light formed the hexagon, and before she could move out of the way, she was repelled by the shield and left helpless for a moment, and that was all he needed. The octagon shield vanished, and the hexagons fired out at point blank, several more than last time. It was a painful sight, seeing her caught in a torrent of explosive projectiles, shot up further and further into the air. She was quite a ways up in the sky before the attack finally ended, and she tumbled down from the fake sky. Those with a sharp eye could see that she was no longer shining, and she was smoking before disappearing from view behind the houses and landing with an audible crash from whatever she had landed on.
Seeing that the threat was gone, the boy lowered his hand and tried to calm himself down. He turned to the others, feeling very exhausted. “Is everyone alright...?” he asked, trying to ignore the pain from the wounds he had suffered. He was feeling all the cuts and scrapes now that the battle was over.
Despite the wounds he’d suffered, Timothy was trying to get on his feet. The gash in his leg disagreed though. “I’ve... been through worse...” he grumbled.
The boy walked towards him, kneeling down before him. “Where’s the wound?” he asked. “I can fix it...”
“No...” Timothy refused. “No time. We can worry about that after we meet up with the Resistance.”
The boy was going to raise an argument, but before he could, he could hear footsteps. He immediately looked to the robotic soldiers, but they were still on the ground and lifeless. He turned down the street fearing that more had arrived... but they were dressed nothing like them. Their attire was basic army attire, green battle armor complete with the bowl-shaped helmet and rifle strapped to their backs.
Upon recognizing them, Timothy smiled. “Or... they can come to us. That works too...” he corrected himself, greatly relieved as he lay back down so he wouldn’t aggravate his wounds further.
When the orphans realized what Timothy meant, they were literally jumping for joy and running towards them. The teenage ones went to help up Lanette, who was still complaining about her leg, and the immobile Timothy, while the younger ones went to congratulate and thank the boy... who was about to fall over from sheer exhaustion. They caught him in concern, and one of them asked, “Are you alright!?”
“Yeah... yeah, I’m... okay...” he replied tiredly. “Just a little tired...” Hoping that the danger was over now, he allowed himself to rest in their arms. “I haven’t done that in a while... I guess I’m a little rusty...” he thought to himself, but he nonetheless smiled. “I’m just glad I could finally protect someone...”
He finally fell unconscious, and the little children could think of nothing to do other than carry him towards the oncoming Resistance members, who seemed more than happy to take him off of their hands. It was the same case with Lanette and Timothy who were unable to move on their own without great difficulty.
“Lieutenant McGuiness.” spoke a gruff voice from in front of him. The speaker was a huge man, looking somewhat like a black-bearded Santa Claus in an army uniform, with a special insignia pinned to the left breast of the jacket that looked like the Earth. In place of a rifle like the other soldiers had, he had what appeared to be a massive chaingun on his back, and a menacing, spike-studded gauntlet was worn on each of his massive hands. “Looks like yah had a bit o’ trouble.”
Timothy managed a weak chuckle. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it... you’re a sight for sore eyes, Heavy.” he replied.
“Heavy” grinned broadly. “Ah’ll bet. Now get goin’, medical crews ‘er waitin’ at the end o’ the slums.”
He and the orphans carrying him were more than happy to follow the order. As they marched on, Timothy caught a glimpse of the sleeping boy who saved his life, cradled in the arms of a Resistance soldier. He felt so dirty for doubting the old man... he was right about him. That barrage of hexagons... it could only have been Formless PSI. Whether he was as miserable as he guessed or not, he alone could be the deciding factor in what becomes of Earth. And he seemed eager to protect everyone, even those he didn’t even know...
He smiled to himself. Maybe this world wasn’t up the creek after all...
Prologue: The Boy from Nowhere
Verse 1
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Now continues a story... of humans and aliens... a tale of two peoples, so different, and yet so similar...
Their fates first intertwined in a moment of terror, when a pair of loving humans were presented a spectacle of almost mythical proportions, when an alien, a child, had literally crash-landed in the vicinity of their home. The hearts of the humans were big and non-discriminating, and thus they took the poor child in as their own. They couldn't have known that this single act of generousity had begun to turn the wheels of fate...
A month had gone by before the alien race whom the child belonged to came in search of him. In that time he and the human couple had become quite attached, and intrigued and thankful for this safety, they didn't have the heart to separate them. However, their kind held great secrets which they couldn't allow to be revealed, and thus the only choice was to take the child, the man and the woman with them to their home. Despite the odd circumstances of the abduction, they seemed not to mind, in fact they were interested in visiting a new world. There they would learn the alien's secret: what they called "Psychokinetics" or "PSI," the power of the mind. It was of no surprise to anyone that the humans would be intrigued by the mysterious mental power, however it lead to something that even amazed the aliens; the humans could learn this power as well. It lead to an interesting relationship between the human couple and their abductors.
However, the wheels of fate continued to turn, and their chains pulled at the humans. They pulled them in the direction of Earth. Indeed, as time went on, they yearned for their old home, yearned for those there that they missed so dearly. However, now that they knew the alien's secrets, they couldn't simply leave, in fear of their knowledge falling into the wrong hands. But while the aliens pressed this warning unto them, they didn't heed it. Throwing law and caution to the wind, they attempted to escape the alien civilization, leaving the distraught alien child behind. However, only the male made it back to humanity. The woman was never heard from again, and the man was a broken and beaten shadow of what he once was. He began to study the secrets of PSI on his own in seclusion, until suddenly... he disappeared again, this time never to return. The happy couple soon faded into history...
Time went on, and the aliens observed the people of Earth with a deep bitterness and anger that the human couple had left them with. Their judgements of the human race led them to believe that they were savage and greedy, and the knowledge that they could now have their secrets was a heavy burden on their shoulders, especially that of the alien child. They didn't know what to do... it was only when eighty years later when that same alien child, filled with rage and spite towards humans for being abandoned so, spoke up with the only viable solution: systematic and covert termination of all the humans with their stolen secrets. And the child himself swore to do it. The beginnings of the attack were subtle and imperceptible to the humans, controlling the weak-minded creatures on the planet to do his bidding. Then he would send out his own forces, machines built for the sole purpose of destruction. But eventually, the attack was thwarted... by none other than the grandchild of that happy couple, and his friends, with a song. It was a song that was sung to him by the boy's grandmother, a lullaby meant to sooth him to sleep. The song was both mentally exhausting and physically painful to hear again, to the extent that the young alien was ultimately forced to retreat. The aliens were flabbergasted to see their champion return in such a pitiful state. And despite all of this, the effort of the couple's grandchild and the battle with the alien was never known to the humans...
Another century later, the alien, no longer a child, allowed his rage and spite for the human race to build up and grow until he planned another attack. A full-scale invasion this time, no longer after select humans, but believing that they were all dangerous, a sentiment echoed by the rest of his kind. He was coming to destroy them all. And mid-way into the invasion, just like before, he found his efforts stalled by a group of children not unlike those led by the happy couple's grandchild. By this point his rage had boiled over, and not willing to let the humans best him again, he decided to use his ultimate weapon: a forbidden machine meant to amplify his power to unfathomable levels, at the risk of irreparably damaging his body and mind. But he cared not; he aimed to complete the task at which his forces failed, and wipe out those children and the rest of humanity himself. He let the machine fuel his power and desire for vengeance... and true to the warnings, he was horribly transformed. The final result was something far beyond what humans would describe as an "abomination." A being representing the hatred and fear of the entire human race. An embodiment of pure evil. And even then... the children did not falter. They charged into battle, and despite the numerous odds stacked against them, the vengeful alien was finally defeated.
For the aliens, concern and terror hung over them like a thick blanket when news of their champion's demise reached them. Their ultimate warrior and their ultimate weapon had failed them. The humans had become too powerful them to handle, and they feared that with their existence announced to humanity with the invasion, that they were on the brink of interplanetary war. Their compromise was something completely radical and unexpected, something that the humans couldn't possibly have been prepared for...
The day their plan was enacted was a terrifying moment for the entire human race.
It was an experimental project of the aliens, called the "Planet Container." It was a massive construct, even bigger than the Planet Earth itself: a hollow sphere, made to simulate the ecosystems and atmosphere of the target planet perfectly, allowing them to live as if nothing happened... the only difference being that those contained inside may never, ever leave. The moment the Planet Container closed around the Earth was the last that the aliens were ever heard from again.
Despite the finest and most stubborn efforts of the humans, they could not do anything to the Planet Container. They could not damage it. They could not move it. When they realized that they were permanently trapped, the Earth descended into chaos. The humans who practiced PSI were blamed for this disaster, and those humans eventually began to revolt in response to the prejudice. It wasn't long before the entire planet was plunged into civil war... a war that would never reach the rest of the universe, just as the aliens had hoped for.
This is where our story leaves off, in the midst of this great war...
--------------------
"So many apples! Are we gonna make apple pie?"
Ah, the innocence of youth... "Sure."
"Yay!" the young, hyperactive six-year-old boy cheered, carelessly hefting a bag of apples that almost had to be as big as he was. It was almost amusing to see him swinging it around so easily for a person his age.
"I hope we have enough for the week... what with the stores closing down..." said a more mature boy to his left, taller and roughly in his teenage years, carrying two bags of assorted foods and drinks. Both of the children had short, black hair, and had an obvious height difference due to their age. What stood out was their clothing... or perhaps lack thereof. They weren't really clothes, more like rags. Enough to keep them decent and keep them warm at night. Oh, how he wished he could do more for them...
"I'm afraid we'll have to manage." said the one in between them, listening to them... an old man, so old that his face was wrinkled to the point that one might mistake it for a rubber mask. All that remained of his hair was on the sides forming a circle around his head; the rest of his forehead was bald, dishevelled and spotted. He was shorter than the teenage boy and somewhat pudgy, and utilized a wooden cane to help him walk. "But I'm sure we'll pull through, we always do. We're just lucky they were having a sale this late at night." Lucky indeed... at least there were still some people in these slums that remembered what generousity was. He was happy that there were good people left on this Earth other than himself... or at least, that's what he liked to think.
Regardless of their run of luck tonight however, they were careful. The slums held more bad people than they did good, and they wanted to make it home as quickly as possible. They took the usual shortcut, through an alleyway a couple of blocks away from the store they had bought their groceries from. That was when the young child noticed something quite peculiar that stood out in the alleyway. Ever curious, he said, "Eh? What's that?"
"Hmm?" the old man hummed with intrigue, looking where the child was pointing. It was a dull-green in colour, but reflected quite brightly under the light of the fake moon... he thought it to be a discarded garbage bag at first, but when he saw that it had been torn and fashioned in a way that it was wearable, it caught his interest. He decided to take a closer look, and the teenage boy walked alongside him, as if protecting him.
It turned out not to be necessary though. The chances were that the one wearing this trash bag trench coat was a thief or a pickpocket; such types of people made these alleyways home. In this specific case, however... the subject was a young boy. Not much younger than the teenage boy. All that could be seen of him was his frazzled blonde hair and the tormented expression on his young face.
But the old man looked at him with much more interest... as if he could see something they could not. It almost made him want to smile, but given the seriousness of the situation, he did not. "This boy is in pain..." he informed his escorts.
"Should we take him with us?" the teenage boy asked.
The old man nodded. "Yes. There's no reason for him to stay in such a place." he agreed. "Help him up onto my back, carefully now."
--------------------
It wasn't too long of a trip after that. The children waiting at home were quite worried about them during their brief outing, but greatly relieved when they returned. This was normal, and they had every right to be concerned with the neighbourhood as it was. But it certainly wasn't normal for them to be carrying someone with them, a face they hadn't seen before. The younger children showed curiousity. The older children showed suspicion. But everyone showed concern.
"There's no need to worry, everyone. He's just fine." the old man assured them all, holding his hand up to silence them all. "But he'll need some rest in a real bed, though. So while Timothy and I prepare a room, I want you all to prepare for apple pie."
As the little boy held up his bag of apples to show to everyone, the younger children erupted into a chorus of cheers. It was a long time since they'd had any proper food, and it made them excited. The old man chuckled to himself. How he longed for the years when he was younger, when he could see only the light in the world like these youngsters could... but alas, those days were over, and his remaining ones were numbered. So while the little boy delivered the apples so they could get started with cooking, the old man and his teenage escort made their way to the stairs.
The house they lived in was a relatively small space, but it had been refurbished to be liveable for all of the eight children and the old man himself. The teenage boy named Timothy offered to help him up the stairs, but he politely refused; he wasn't totally helpless yet. Nonetheless he followed, having only an inkling as to why the old man insisted upon it. Typically when they were alone, it lead to more... serious discussions.
Timothy closed the upstairs door behind him, and the old man carefully lowered the blonde-haired boy onto the nearest unoccupied hammock. This single, dark room was filled with them, divided by curtains with two hammocks to a space. Four for the youngsters, four for the teens and one for himself. Showing signs of exhaustion, the old man willed himself into the rocking chair in the centre of the room, a place he used either to relax or to entertain the little ones with stories. Timothy looked at him with pity. He used to be such a strong man... but even the strongest of people age and wither with time... losing their power.
Seeing no more need for the garbage bag the boy wore, Timothy removed it from him carefully so that he wouldn't be abruptly awoken. Beneath it was clothing that was hardly fit for the damp, cold alley he had chosen to sleep in, a simple t-shirt and denim shorts. The yellow and orange stripes on the shirt and the blue threads on the shorts had become dull and colour, and they both had numerous tatters. It was obvious that these clothes were long past their prime. As for the boy himself, his skin was pale, and his hair was messy and greasy. He probably hadn't had a decent meal or bath in days. If he did have a body odour though, it was masked by the scent of the trash bag.
Wanting to break the tense silence, Timothy decided to speak his mind. "This isn't a normal boy, is he?" he asked.
He looked to the old man, and he wasn't at all surprised but nonetheless unnerved to see that his usually squinted-shut eyes were now wide open, and glowing with alternating and fluctuating shades of red, yellow and blue that would hurt to look at if they were any brighter. His mysterious gaze was fixated on the boy. Then, the glowing stopped. His eyes returned to their normal state, and he wore his trademark, wide grin. "Not even close, Timothy. This boy has the ability to use Formless PSI."
Even in the darkness of the room, it was easy to see that Timothy's jaw had dropped. It took him a moment before he could find anything else to say. "You're sure you're not going senile, right?" he accused.
"Oh, maybe... I have been waiting for this moment long enough to have driven me batty." the old man admitted. "But I promise it's true, this boy definitely has Formless PSI. I could never mistake it for anything else." The old man slipped a hand into his ragged jacket, if one could even call it a jacket, and pulled something out of it. It was a mid-sized, black pocket book. Most men his age would carry something like a bible, but this book held a significance all on its own. When Timothy saw it, he knew the old man was deadly serious. He knew what the book was, and he knew that there were only two reasons it would ever leave his interior pocket. The first was simply to transfer between coats. The second was to give to a certain individual... a certain individual with the ability to use Formless PSI that he had been waiting for. "I hate to throw the poor boy into this mess, but now... he's the only hope this world has left." he continued. He extended his arm to hand the book to Timothy. "Please, when the time comes, give this to him. Make sure he guards it with his life."
With a hesitant nod, Timothy took the book from him, and for a moment he could only stare at its black, hard cover. This was a great responsibility both he and the boy were being entrusted with. This book contained secrets that would lead to a great power, a power that in the wrong hands could bring upon a disaster like nothing ever seen before. But in the right hands, it could be the thing that saves this world from what it's become...
"Timothy..." the old man rasped, spooking Timothy for a moment, At first he thought he was angry that he hadn't put the book away and quickly stuffed it in his pocket, but it turned out to be something else. "You must know what this boy's presence means. The day has come..."
Timothy's face turned a ghastly white. "The day" had come? The old man had been speaking about "the day" for a long time. He was a man who had presumably seen the future... it was for this reason he knew about the boy. And also that it meant the old man's time was near an end. In the surprises of this evening, he had forgotten this crucial fact.
"This place will no longer be safe soon. When the dead of night comes, I want you to take him the children and get them to safety. Long enough to let the children enjoy their meal, but no later than midnight."
The air around Timothy had become unsure, depressed. The old man had expected this, quite honestly. "You're sure there's no way to help you?"
"...I'm sorry." was his only reply. "This is as far ahead as I've seen. If you stay, and the enemy is a powerful one, more powerful than even me. If you stay, you'll only die with me."
"I... understand." Timothy slowly said, trying to fight back tears that were threatening to well up in his eyes. It made him feel so wretched and inept... to know this was coming, only not to be able to do a goddamn thing about it. But he'd remain composed in front of him. There would be time to mourn later. "It's been an honour to serve you, Sir."
The old man closed his eyes and smiled. "Timothy... you're the most trusted out of everyone under me. I know you won't let me down."
It rekindled his faith a bit, to hear that from his commander. He always got the job done. Not once had he betrayed the trust of the old man, and until his last breath he swore he never would. Timothy owed him that much.
With much on his mind, Timothy excused himself and went downstairs to aid the children in cooking supper, provided he could even enjoy the meal now. The old man sighed. He was leaving his people with a great burden to carry, and he was simply too weak now to shoulder it himself. What he wouldn't give to relive his glory days just once in this nightmare of a world... but he knew it was impossible. He wasn't getting any younger. Soon, either by time or by the hand of the enemy, he was going to pass on. So the only choice that remained was to pass his responsibilities onto a younger generation. His only wish was that it didn't involve extending this poor child's suffering... but he didn't know that for sure. The boy might find a home in this world, people to care for him, to give him a reason to live and fight. He could only hope and pray...
"The fate of the world rests with you from now on... Lucas..."
--------------------
It wasn't every day that people were treated to such a surreal sight, and in a world such as this, the term "surreal" was not used often. The two people walking down the streets of the shopping district were revered by some, but feared by all for many different reasons. One was a tall, lanky man who wore an outfit not at all unlike that of a modern-day detective. Brown dress pants, a lengthy brown jacket with a white, buttoned shirt underneath, and a simple brown hat that did well in shadowing his eyes. This man was feared for his political power, known for being cruel and merciless. The one walking with him was much more eye-catching however, if only for the fact that a dazzling, silver light covered the person's figure. So dazzling in fact that it hurt to look at. The only reason one would know it was a person was the silver, waist-length hair. This one was feared for the power at its command, power that had made many, many people meet an untimely end.
To see these two beings in these simple, backwater slums was a terrifying surprise to everyone that night. People inside of their homes locked their doors and shut their window blinds if they hadn't been already. People still outside rushed into their homes or hid in the nearest convenient spot. Those with no other option either pressed themselves flat to the walls to stay out of their way, or curled up into the fetal position so they were less likely to be noticed.
But there was one person in the slums that night that wasn't satisfied with running and hiding. This person, like some others, had a serious bone to pick with these two people, and wouldn't be satisfied until they were made to suffer. Donning a cloak as black as the night, he peered out from one of the back alleys. He was fairly large, but his muscles weren't what he planned to use. As the two people walked past, he extended his hand out. Sparks began to crackle out of the bare hand, sparks that were gradually getting bigger. Before long his hand was covered in crackling and snapping electricity. When he felt the time was right, he leapt out of the alley and quiet as any man could be, and went to jam the electrified hand into the back of the lanky man's neck.
Shiich!
The attacker didn't even get within five feet of his target before he was impaled. Not by one, but at the exact same moment by two silver, shining blades, held by what seemed to be no one and nothing, the ends sticking out of his back dyed red with his blood. One went through his stomach, the other through his heart. The pain must have been excruciating if the opened-mouthed, agonized expression on his face was any indication, so much so that he couldn't even scream. Nor would he get the chance, for the blades then sliced through either side of his body, one to the left and one to the right, before returning and slicing through the other side. The screams then instead came from the horrified onlookers, watching the three eviscerated portions of the man's body fall to the ground.
The keen-eyed observer would note that the person bathed in silver light had stopped moving while the blades performed their gruesome work, and only resumed walking when the blades moved into the light. The lanky man, on the other hand, kept going as if nothing had happened. But if his face wasn't shadowed by the girl's dazzling light, people would be able to see his wide grin of amusement.
Their leisurely walk stopped only when they reached their destination, a blackened, dilapidated-looking building that had only two floors. The old man's orphanage. "Life-form scan complete." spoke the being covered in light. It was a woman's voice, not sounding much older than that of a teenager. It would sound like the voice of an angel if it weren't robotic and monotone. "One life-form detected. Psychokinetic aura readings confirmed; located on the second floor. Estimated threat level is SS."
The lanky man's grin only widened more, to the point where one might mistake his face for that of a hyena. "Just like I thought. He's definitely here." His voice was only a little bit deep for the age of thirty he appeared to be, lazy and hissing with a sinister intent. "Keep watch out here. I'd hate to have any interruptions like back there..." he ordered without so much as a backward glance at his escort.
"Acknowledged."
The man was growing excited. With a powerful thrust of his boot, not even bothering to try the doorknob, the rotting door was broken open and swung around into the wall with a loud bang. Hands tucked into the exterior pockets of his jacket, he went inside and inspected the surroundings. The house was much more pleasing to the eye on the inside, and he could clearly see this since the lights were left on. While there was little that could be done about the appearance of the walls, the ceiling, floor and various furniture looked almost perfectly fine. Cutlery and plates were left on the dinner table, some even with uneaten food. He swiftly picked a piece of what appeared to be an unfinished piece of pie and chomped off a small part. Apple. And still warm. And yet there was no sign of the little children who had dined in here. "The old codger must've shooed them away. Knew I was coming..." He couldn't say he was surprised. He always had this way of keeping one step ahead...
Deciding not to waste any more time getting to the confrontation, he lurched his way up the stairs, taking two stairs at a time instead of one simply because his long legs allowed it. Carefully balancing himself on the top step, he again kicked down the door in his way in the hopes of spooking the old man. The calm voice that awaited within belonged to a man that was anything but spooked, however. “Come on, you’re older than I am. Don’t you know how to knock?” came the weathered, almost amused reply from inside the second floor room.
There, right there, was the reason he was here. He only briefly regarded the curtained-off sections of the room and the unoccupied hammocks inside, and then gave the old man rocking in his rocking chair his undivided attention. The “younger” man’s arms left his jacket, and he gave him an open-armed shrug. “Sorry, just couldn’t wait to finally bring you in.” he replied smugly.
The old man chuckled, almost laughed. “Maybe if I heard that from the President I’d believe it, but I know you quite a bit better than that.”
The edges of the lanky man’s mouth curved upwards into a sinister smile and he chuckled... and then his body arched backwards as a bellowing, cackling laughter echoed out of him. When he managed to recompose himself, he looked at the old man with excitement. “Well then, I’ll just go ahead and cut to the chase...”
There was hardly any warning before he thrust his arms at the old man’s rag jacket, encountering no resistance as he opened it wide and peered his head inside. When he saw that there was nothing of value hidden inside, in fact nothing at all, his mouth curved into a disappointed frown. The old man only grinned and told him casually, “My mind hasn’t totally gone. I’ve already given it away.”
The man chuckled before looking the old man in the eyes again, narrow, golden pupils almost boring into his faded purple ones. He regained his ghastly smile. “Making things hard for me until the very end, hmm? That’s what I like about you... you keep things interesting.” he cooed. He then let go of the old man’s jacket and stood up straight again. “But as they say, all good things must come to an end... I’ll just have to pry the info out of your mind before you roll over and die.”
The old man only smiled wider. “Go ahead and try.” he challenged.
The lanky man cackled again, greatly amused. “You don’t really think you can stop me with that withered husk of a brain, do you?” he taunted.
“Oh, of course not.” the old man agreed. “But I’ll bet I can give you one hell of a headache.”
A sinister chuckle from the lanky man was the last verbal response that came out of either of them. The room was soon alight with bright glows emanating from both of their eyes. The old man’s, a shifting aura of red, yellow and blue. The lanky man’s, a gaze of alternating shades of red and black. “So he’s really going to resist with whatever life is left in that bag of rotting meat...” the lanky man thought.
The only visible signs of a struggle were the lights coming out of their eyes, but there was so much more happening. Their clash of power was so intense, that the room itself started to shake...
--------------------
For Timothy, midnight was coming much too soon. Explaining to the orphans that they had to leave without going into exactly why was a difficult and awkward task. Understandably the younger children were willing to do as they were told, but the older ones were a little wiser and more pensive about just leaving their home that they had known for three stressful years. Timothy had promised to explain everything to them when they were in a safe place and no sooner than that, and while this visibly frustrated the teenagers, they would just have to put up with it. They would understand after everything was done... Timothy could only hope.
They were a good distance from the orphanage now, about five blocks, and the further away they got, the less comfortable they were getting. The still-sleeping blonde Timothy had to carry on his back was somewhat symbolic of the burden he was left with, he thought. He really wished he’d wake up already. He wasn’t heavy, but he’d have trouble protecting everyone if he had to piggyback this boy at the same time.
“You still haven’t told us where we’re going, Tim.” reminded one of the teenage orphans, a brown-haired girl with pigtails. She was known for being rather stuck-up.
“And I keep telling you, now isn’t the time for questions, Lanette.” Timothy replied curtly, trying to keep his temper in check, a task the girl named Lanette was making very difficult. This was the fourth time she asked.
“Well that’s too fucking bad!” she snapped back at him, stomping the ground with her shoe. Her sudden outburst caused everyone to stop and look at them both, much to Timothy’s dismay. “We’re going out in the middle of the night in a place where all sorts of creeps sneak around, leaving our grandpa behind, and you haven’t even told us why!” she screeched. Now everyone was looking solely at Timothy, even the children, clearly wanting an explanation. “I am not moving one more step until we get some ans--”
She didn’t even get to finish, or if she had, no one had been able to hear her before the scene descended into chaos. There was the unmistakeable sound of an explosion from not too far away. It was so powerful that not only did it shake the paved ground they stood on, but they could feel the shockwave from it like a bass note through their chests, so intense that everyone was knocked off of their feet. For a good mile, glass was shattered, the few cars in the slums had their alarms set off, and buildings close to the blast had been knocked off of their foundations. People were lucky if they could hear Timothy’s shout of “Jesus Christ!” over the ringing in their ears.
But that wasn’t the main part of the spectacle, for from ground zero, a display of light cut through the darkness of midnight, as if to spite the false sky above them. It was a tower of light crackling with red, yellow and blue in the centre, with a very visible red outline on the outside. It shot straight up like a laser, and it kept going... kept going until everyone could see that it actually connected with the walls of their ridiculously oversized prison. Visible flashes of light, explosions from the looks of them, starting to spread out from the point of impact. The tower of light soon faded, but the damage it did to the Planet Container carried on, spreading out like cracks. It was clear that damage had indeed been done when they moved across the false moon, becoming lined with black spots along the image.
Finally managing to get his breath back, Timothy shakily got to his feet, vaguely aware of a warm sensation on the back of his neck... damn, was he bleeding? No, it felt more like... breath. Obviously he wasn’t breathing out of the back of his neck. The boy must’ve been awoken by the explosion. Hell, who wouldn’t have been woken up by that?
“Is everyone okay!?” he shouted to the orphans, trying to use a higher volume to overcome the deafness they must have sustained. He looked around, and much to his relief and surprise, everyone was getting up. From where he was standing he could see that they took a few cuts and bruises from getting knocked onto the hard pavement, but otherwise they seemed to be just fine. Relieved only for a moment, he turned back to Lanette, who was also standing up and literally shaking in her outworn boots. “That’s why we’re leaving. Now stop shaking and start running!”
No sooner had he shouted at her did she take off like a bullet, going in the direction Timothy had initially pointed out to them. One look from the angered teenager was all it took for the rest of the orphans to follow suit and chase after her. He would follow shortly after, just taking a moment to look back in the direction of the explosion of light... he knew it was from the orphanage, and he knew what it meant.
“Damn... you weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to go out with a bang, old man...” he lamented, before turning on his heel and pursuing the others. Like he told himself before, there would be time to mourn after they were to safety.
--------------------
At ground zero, there was nothing indicating that there used to be anything where the orphanage once stood. It looked more like the plot had been used by locals to dump their trash at. The buildings on either side had to be at least ten feet off of their original positions, and looked in worse shape than the orphanage had originally.
Across the street, the silver-lighted girl exited the house she had been blasted into through the hole she had made upon entry. If one could see her face, it would appear completely stoic, devoid of emotion. She moved towards the wreckage of the orphanage, looking at it intently as if looking for something. When she found that something, she stepped over the ruins towards it.
But she hadn’t had the chance to even bend down to get it before it moved of its own volition. A hand shot out of the pile of wood, blowing whatever shrapnel was in its way far into the sky. The brown sleeve around that hand was visibly torn and had blood leaking out of it. That hand then clamped down on the nearest solid piece of wood it found, and the entire, lanky owner of that hand pulled himself out. He was a mess, battered and bleeding all over. There wasn’t a single part of his body or clothing that wasn’t bloodied or tattered in some way. And yet for some bizarre reason, his hat had managed to stay on his head.
He seemed to completely disregard his company, looking straight forward at another body that had fortunately managed to land on top of the wreckage unlike him. The body of the old man that had dared to contest him was in even worse condition than he was. He was covered in blood and torn clothes just like him, but one of his arms and one of his legs were bent in fashions nature couldn’t possibly have intended. And his head was... another matter... to put it into perspective, it looked like a bomb had exploded out of the top of his skull.
That last part was the first thing the lanky man took note of, and when he realized what it meant, he was furious. Any hopes of probing his brain for information were now completely pointless; a destroyed brain was about as good a destroyed disk drive. The old man was useless now, and this didn’t fill his lanky nemesis with a great sense of joy. With a mighty kick, there was a sickening rip as the remains of the old man’s head were forcefully removed from its body, flying through the air like a soccer ball. “Senile old bastard!” the lanky man shouted in rage. He wasn’t just here for personal reasons, the old man had very valuable information he needed, and he went so far as to effectively take his own life in order to protect it... “Damn... all that work put into finding him, gone to waste!” Then he started to stumble forwards, a sudden wave of weakness passing through him and disrupting his usually-perfect balance, compounded by his head throbbing harshly. “Damn, he did a number on me... even gave me that headache he promised...”
“Multiple injuries detected. Sir, you require medical attention.” his shining companion stated.
“Forget about it, I can take care of myself!” the lanky man snapped back as his head whipped around to face her. “You have other things to do. The old man always kept a bodyguard with him. Get your squad moving, find him and bring him to me!” he ordered. “But first, kill his stragglers! We can’t chance any of them being latent Psychokinetics! Tear these slums apart until they’re found!”
“Acknowledged.” the girl said, before she started walking down the street opposite in the direction they had arrived from.
The lanky man watched as she left, before turning back to the old man’s decapitated corpse. Despite his rage, he couldn’t help but grin. “Well... is our game still on, or is it all fated to end in these slums? Guess we’ll find out~”
--------------------
As per Timothy’s orders, he and the orphans still ran. They still didn’t know what was happening. First they snuck out of their own home, then there was that huge explosion of light, and now they were running – presumably for their lives – through the slums that they lived in. The sounds of their shoes and boots clapping and echoing against the pavement and their heavy breathing made it sound like they were like a small army marching, onto a battlefield where shots of gunfire rang out. The Planet Container was still displaying the effects of that phenomenon, the psychedelic crack-like lights still running along its interior, still causing explosions. It was only now that they started to hear them, and only barely over their own noise.
“Wh-what’s going on!? Why am I on your back!?” the blonde-haired boy cried, clearly not content with this chaotic situation and hanging onto Timothy’s shoulders for dear life.
“No time for questions! Just hold on tight!” Timothy replied to him, before turning his attention to the others. “Keep going, guys! We’re almost there!”
“Where is ‘there?’” Lanette asked.
“Outside of the slums! People are waiting for us there!” Timothy answered, finally giving his companions some information regarding this surprise marathon... though still frustratingly little.
But further down the street, something threatened to put that marathon to an abrupt end. Out of one of the left-side alleyways, one, two, three people clad in silver marched out and turned to face them in disturbingly perfect unison. The silver colouring in their appearance was, in fact, full body armor, covering them from the tips of their toes all the way to their helmets. Held in both of their hands were equally-silver... guns. High-calibre rifles with elongated bayonets, audibly and visibly cocked and then pointed at the orphans, like a firing squad. The only thing not silver on these things were their visors, a singular, bright red iris in the middle surrounded by inky black. Their sudden and menacing appearance brought everyone to a halt.
“Shit!” Timothy cursed aloud, ignoring the boy on his back for a minute and bending down to reach into his boots... pulling something out of both.
“Target acquired.” All three of them said at once, again all at the same time. They looked like they were about to shoot...
Three loud bangs echoed throughout the streets... but the smoking barrels they originated from did not belong to the ones holding the rifles. In fact, those three were no longer standing, stumbling either backwards or forwards from having their heads literally exploded to pieces. It wasn’t as gory as one might expect, as instead of blood and brain matter flying in all directions, it was pieces of shattered armor and sparking machinery littering the ground around them. They were shaped like humans, but they definitely weren’t humans. They were machines. But then who was the one responsible for their destruction? All the terrified eyes of the orphans turned to Timothy, who had guns of his own pointed where the robots were standing. High-calibre revolvers, each with a long blade extending past the end of their smoking barrels.
“Damn it... I didn’t think they’d be here!” Timothy growled, lowering his arms that were still shaking from the adrenaline rush.
“Holy shit... you’re fucking Resistance, aren’t you!?” Lanette exclaimed in shock, partially from anger that this had been kept hidden from them all, partially in horror at how easily he had dispatched their would-be attackers. “I knew it! I fucking knew it!”
Timothy shot her a stern glare and countered, “Yes, I am Resistance, which means I’m your only chance of getting out of here alive! You have no right to complain!” Lanette promptly shut her mouth. “Now keep running! Keep running and whatever you do, don’t stop!” There was no more convincing needed on anyone’s part before they were off again. He turned to the horrified blonde and said, “You too, kid! I can’t protect everyone with you hanging off my back!”
“O-okay!” the boy stammered, hopping off his back and rushing ahead with Timothy back to the others. It briefly crossed his mind that perhaps the boy could be very helpful now that the situation had changed; the old man did say he was a Psychokinetic. But given the nature of the enemy and just how precious the boy was supposed to be to Earth’s future, it might not be wise to reveal his hidden potential to his friends or the enemy just yet. No, for now Timothy decided to treat him just like he would the orphans and protect him with his life.
And there was no shortage of threats to that life. More silver-clad robots similar in appearance and handled equipment to the previous three began to emerge from the various alleyways along the street, either from behind or in front of the fledglings. Timothy decided to take care of the ones that barred their path first, doing his best to keep the way clear; it was a good thing that he was taller than the people he was saving, it meant they weren’t in his line of fire. He took periodic, brief glances at the ones behind him, firing on those who got too close. He had to keep ahead of them, because they moved faster than him. But Timothy could tell it would be an ultimately futile effort. “Damn! I didn’t think there would be this many this fast!” he thought in panic as adrenaline pumped through his veins again, barely able to regard that within the last minute or two, he’d had to shoot down a total of ten robots, and there were at least another ten behind him. It did not help that his ammunition was limited. Not only was it difficult to reload a revolver while moving, or without free hands, but his aim was also suffering because he had to keep moving.
Meanwhile, the blonde-haired boy was making his own observations of the enemy as he ran. He looked at them before they were rendered junk. If the orphans or Timothy had been staring at him in their panic, which they were not, they would’ve noticed that his eyes were glowing a vibrant green. He was turning this stare on any active robot, as if he were trying to find something. “No emotion... not even blood... but they look so human...!”
Another robot leapt out from the alleyway nearest Timothy, recognizing him as the immediate threat, wielding the bayonet of its rifle with the intent of skewering him. Timothy was quick to react, blocking the incoming blade with the one on his own revolver, and then shot the would-be assassin away with the other. He then heard another coming from behind him while his back was turned, but was much less stealthy. That one found himself with a gun-blade in his head, cracking the visor before a round from the barrel that gun-blade belonged to blew it to pieces. Timothy had kept track of the shots he used up to this point and knew the gun chambers were empty, so he stuck closer to the orphans while reaching into his ragged jacket and pulling out a handful of bullets. He cursed under his breath as his less-than-graceful reloading action allowed him to drop a couple of shells before he could cram them all into the chamber of the left revolver, but four was definitely better than none.
That slight moment of delay would cost him. A pair of robots came out in front of the orphans, one from each side of the street. Timothy shot one down, another headshot, but the other was quick to retaliate, and he could not bit back the scream of agony as he felt the rifle round tear through his left shoulder. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to fire the loaded revolver with that arm, he dropped the empty one and put the useable one in his right hand, then opened fire. Two shots, one through where the heart would be and the other into the head. The orphans and the boy turned to him in alarm at the yelp he made, and gasped and screamed in horror upon seeing the large, bleeding hole in his jacket. “Keep going! We’re almost there!” he urged them, trying to get them to ignore it while trying to ignore it himself. They just had to go a little further...!
Then, something caught everyone’s attention. From behind them, something was coming, something shiny and bright, tearing through the fake night sky. That something kept going past them, and stopped moving forward only when it was in front of them, touching down to the ground slowly. Radiating silver light so intense that it hurt the eyes. The orphans, blinded by the thing, had to stop running. This time, Timothy wasn’t as bothered that they had stopped, but instead was less inclined to go forward himself now. In an instant his blood felt like it had turned to ice, such was the chill that sudden, absolute fear provided. He was afraid, because he knew what had dared to get in their way. “Shit...”
The light died down slightly, allowing everyone to see just what the shining thing looked like. It was a woman not much older than Timothy was, her long, silver hair reaching down just past her waist. The armor the person was an equally radiant shade of silver, thin-looking and not covering the upper arms, upper legs or the stomach. Obscuring her face was a visor similar to that of the other robots, but without the single red eye and without the helmet part, letting her hair move freely in the wind. What appeared to be eight long blades were sticking out from behind her, patterned in some kind of star shape. “Target acquired.” spoke the light in an eerily calm, monotone voice, almost like a robot. “Subjects determined to be the missing orphans from the orphanage of Resistance Leader ‘Old Man.’”
Timothy managed to shake off his fear for a moment, stepping in front of the terrified orphans, prepared to defend them with his life. “You just can’t let me catch a break, can you...”
“New arrival. Subject identified as Resistance Lieutenant Timothy McGuiness. Common company of Resistance Leader ‘Old Man.’ Threat level B. Current bounty: $20,000,000.” she said, very much acting like a robot too. She then replied, “My directive is not to let you ‘catch a break.’ As a member of the Resistance, you are an enemy of the world that must be terminated.” Timothy’s expression was decidedly solemn. He didn’t speak as he reached into his jacket and pulled out more bullets, ignoring the pain from moving his arm as he made sure to fully load the revolver this time.
But while he appeared calm and collected, boldly standing up to this apparent enemy, the blonde-haired boy could tell that he was anything but. He didn’t need psychokinetic powers to feel the utter dread radiating off of him. But what terrified him even more was the enemy itself. ”She’s... psychic!? Is she... just like Brother!?” his mind screamed, horrible memories flooding back to him. He took a step backward, but could hear the footsteps of the other silver-clad robots coming from behind him and yelped in fright.
Timothy knew right then, without even looking backward, that they were surrounded. There was no escape now, and he knew it. He sighed in defeat and said, “Fine, you finally caught me...” He looked back to the orphans with apparent sorrow in his eyes, worried about what would become of them... he turned back to the light and pleaded, “Just... let the children go... take me instead...”
“Negative.” Timothy’s jaw went completely agape from surprise. Her response had no thought behind it, no hesitation. “Your capture is a secondary objective. My primary objective is the immediate termination of the orphans.”
“Wh... what!?” Timothy, Lanette and the blonde boy shouted in shock and utter terror. The rest could only wail, unable to fathom why they would be the main target in the presence of someone with such a large bounty on his head.
“Subjects were under the care of Resistance Leader ‘Old Man.’ The possibility that the subjects are latent Psychokinetics cannot be overlooked. Furthermore, you are already unable to escape and pose no threat to my objectives.” she explained. “Do not resist.”
The orphans huddled together, afraid of what would happen. But when Timothy took a moment to find his inner rage, he decided to ignore her observations regardless of how apt they were. “Like hell I won’t resist!”
There was no more warning before he pulled the trigger, six consecutive times, every bullet aimed for a different part of her head. But he couldn’t possibly hope that even one shot made it to its intended destination, and sure enough, they did not. Four of the blades had come off of her back, floating in front of her in a cross formation, a wall of silver light pulsing from the tips of the blades. The bullets that Timothy fired were on the ground, half-crushed from what only could’ve been impacting that wall of light. “Pointless.”
The wall of light faded, allowing two of the blades that formed it to return to her back, while the other two flew with lightning speed and impaled Timothy both in his right leg and his only good shoulder. The impact had knocked the wind out of him, a strangled gasp his only reply as he fell backward to the ground. His companions screamed in horror. “Tim!” Lanette wailed.
The robot girl started walking towards them, and when they tried to back off, they realized it was futile due to the robots behind them, weapons aimed at them. The situation was only getting bleaker with every step she took. “Be grateful my orders are to apprehend you alive. A fortune not shared by the orphans you swore to protect.”
“D... damn you...!” Timothy coughed, trying to get up, but then the blades pushed harder, embedding themselves in the pavement below him. Now he was trapped. She herself just walked past him.
Almost all of the orphans coward in sheer terror, all but one. “You bitch!” Lanette roared, displaying quite a bit more athletic ability than she did previously by bring her foot up to robot girl’s face, but her rage-induced attempt at self-defense was for naught, as it never actually reached her face. It was instead stopped by a blade that flew off of her back, impaling that foot and forcing a blood-curdling scream out of her as the force sent her spinning to the ground. The agony wasn’t helped when the blade twisted upwards, also embedding itself in the hard pavement so that Lanette was also stuck. Another blade flew off of the robot girl’s back, slowly, pointed directly at her helpless body...
“Begin termination.”
Many emotions were running rampant through everyone there. For Timothy, the shame and disappointment that he couldn’t even protect these people. For Lanette, the utter horror her like was about to end. For the orphans, the grim, gut-wrenching fear that came from the knowledge that they would be next.
“Stop it!”
But from the blonde boy was the blatant difference from the rest, a kind of righteous fury building up in him as he rushed at the robot girl. His speed was surprising, and focused on her goal of “terminating” Lanette she had no time to react before his fist collided with her cheek. But more surprising was the power behind that fist, sending her flying back a good few feet, a good distance past Timothy before stopping on at her original spot... but she did not fall down. She was more... hovering in mid-air, her body keeping the position in which it had ended up after the punch. Though no one was able to notice in the chaos, the robot soldiers behind them suddenly convulsed and fell to the ground.
“How... how dare you!” the blonde boy shouted in anger, and now all eyes were on him. Now they saw the green glow in his eyes, and for a brief moment they could see that the arm that had delivered the punch was glowing orange before it returned to its normal colour. “These orphans... these children haven’t done anything to you! What right do you have to just... kill them!?”
The robot girl started to lean upright, her mouth making a thin line. The cheek where the punch landed was a shade of red that wasn’t at all subtle against her pale skin. “New arrival. Subject’s identity is unknown. Psychokinetic energy detected within subject. Estimated threat level is A.” she said, before finally replying to him, “I am only operating on the directives given to me by my superiors. Because of your ability to use PSI, you must be terminated, and the others afterward in the event that they may also have latent psychokinetic abilities.”
The blonde boy growled. “I won’t let you!” he challenged, running in front of Lanette, and then in front of Timothy, intent on protecting them, protecting all of them.
“You... are you crazy, kid!?” Timothy shouted at the boy in clear disapproval. “Only people with a death wish pick a fight with a PSIber-”
The robot girl’s blades shot out of the ground, interrupting Timothy’s rant and eliciting another agonized scream from Lanette. The bloodied blades flew back to their owner. “PSIber... is that what this thing is called?” Despite the criticism however, the boy was unfazed. “Being a little hypocritical, aren’t you?” he countered. “Whatever. Right now it’s trying to kill people, and I won’t stand for that!”
“But you’ll be killed!” Timothy countered.
“I don’t care...”
“But... wha... what...?” the Resistance member was left understandably speechless, along with everyone else.
The blonde boy looked back to him... his eyes weren’t glowing anymore, and for the first time Timothy could see what they really looked like. His actual eye colour was a dull blue... he almost looked... sad. Soulless even. “I’ve lost everything I wanted to protect once... because I wouldn’t fight...” He turned back to the enemy. “If I can’t use this power to protect others, then there’s nothing left for me to live for anyway...”
It was a scant few sentences, but they gave Timothy a glimpse into the boy’s personality... and it scared him. He’d seen people like him before, people with that dreadful outlook on life and that half-dead look in their eyes. This boy himself said he had lost something very precious to him, and Timothy knew what the pain of loss could do to a man. For the first time ever, he wondered if the old man’s instincts were wrong... he, for one, didn’t believe someone so bleak could take on the burden of saving the world...
“Initiating combat mode.” His grim fascination evidently was not shared by the robot girl called a “PSIber.” The blades on her back, instead of just flying out at their target, began spinning like a helicopter rotor. Some parts of the back of her armour also extended out, looking to be an “x” shape from the front. These parts began to glow with that same silver light, and she started to hover off of the ground. “Begin termination.”
The green glow returned to the boy’s eyes, and he prepared for what the first move would be. There was no avoiding the fight now. He would protect these people or die trying. The PSIber started with the tried-and-true method of dispatching enemies: a barrage of her floating blades, this time launching a total of four. Tempting though it was to move out of the way, the boy remembered that everyone else was right behind him. He couldn’t move without putting them in harm’s way. Then he would have to make everything he did count. Just as the blades launched, he thrust his arms forward with a grunt, and they were stopped in mid-flight by some kind of wall that appeared between them and him. A protective barrier, composed of a half-dome of yellow octagons. The tips of the blades pushed fervently against the barrier, the places where they struck sparking and crackling from the force. The orphans and the Resistance soldier watched with shock and awe as her attack was stopped in its tracks.
Seeing that the attack was having no effect, the PSIber decided to up the ante. Now the remaining four blades tore through the air and impacted the shield. Now it was starting to have an effect. The force of all eight blades pressing on the barrier at once was starting to push the boy back, and he growled as he tried to resist. As he struggled however, the shield was creaking and buckling, as if the collection of octagons were a single, solid construct. More than that, those with a good enough angle could see that cuts were starting to form on the boy’s hands and arms, and those cuts were bleeding. It seemed that the barrier didn’t stop all of the incoming damage.
But in spite of all this, the boy persevered. With a scream of effort, he pushed forward once again, and the shield glowed with energy. All at once, the blades that had stuck into here were blown back like shrapnel from a grenade, and it was only through sheer luck that none of them struck their owner as they tumbled past her. If anyone cared enough to listen for it, they would’ve heard her gasp in surprise, a stark contrast to her normally-robotic actions. For the blonde boy, that moment of surprise was an opportunity. He was running at her from the moment the blades were bounced away, his skin again glowing with an orange light, and it took only a couple of seconds to reach her. His attacks were relentless. A punch to the gut, another to the previously unharmed cheek, a roundhouse kick to her exposed jaw.
The orphans began to cheer for him. “Go! Go! Get her!” “Beat her up good!” “C’mon, stay on her!”
He was going to continue as she staggered backward, but his eyes were also on the blades, and they were coming back. He jumped backward to avoid getting skewered, and instead three blades got stuck in the pavement. Then he saw another opportunity: If these blades were the PSIber’s main means of offense, then he’d get rid of them. He extended his palm at them, and it began to glow with a green light. When the light left, it started to expand into the shape of a hexagon.
Timothy’s eyes widened, to the point that anyone looking might they think were about to fall out of his head. “That’s...!”
It was all he could say before the sound of what could only be described as clanging chimes filled the air, a noise made by the attack. The hexagon of light didn’t launch at the blades, but rather other hexagons shot out of the original, each one exploding like shining, green fireworks upon contact. When the attack was over, the blades were nothing more than bits of scrap metal scattered along the ground.
The PSIber had managed to regain her balance in time to see what had transpired, and judging from what she said next, she wasn’t happy. “Target has access to an unlisted PSI ability. Threat level miscalculated. Suggested course of action: terminate the company to better focus on target.” Her five remaining blades readjusting into a perfect star shape in the absence of their partners, she started flying above the ground, making no effort to hide that she was going to move around the boy and go for the others. It was a brief scare for the orphans.
But the boy would have none of it, and intercepted her. She tried to skewer him again with every blade she had left, to at least move him out of the way, and even rushed at him with a hard knee. But he created his shield again, and everything collided with it. Tears were abruptly formed in the boy’s shirt, but even then he stood his ground. The PSIber barely had the time to realize that she had just made a big mistake, before his right hand started to glow green again. “Get lost!”
The green light formed the hexagon, and before she could move out of the way, she was repelled by the shield and left helpless for a moment, and that was all he needed. The octagon shield vanished, and the hexagons fired out at point blank, several more than last time. It was a painful sight, seeing her caught in a torrent of explosive projectiles, shot up further and further into the air. She was quite a ways up in the sky before the attack finally ended, and she tumbled down from the fake sky. Those with a sharp eye could see that she was no longer shining, and she was smoking before disappearing from view behind the houses and landing with an audible crash from whatever she had landed on.
Seeing that the threat was gone, the boy lowered his hand and tried to calm himself down. He turned to the others, feeling very exhausted. “Is everyone alright...?” he asked, trying to ignore the pain from the wounds he had suffered. He was feeling all the cuts and scrapes now that the battle was over.
Despite the wounds he’d suffered, Timothy was trying to get on his feet. The gash in his leg disagreed though. “I’ve... been through worse...” he grumbled.
The boy walked towards him, kneeling down before him. “Where’s the wound?” he asked. “I can fix it...”
“No...” Timothy refused. “No time. We can worry about that after we meet up with the Resistance.”
The boy was going to raise an argument, but before he could, he could hear footsteps. He immediately looked to the robotic soldiers, but they were still on the ground and lifeless. He turned down the street fearing that more had arrived... but they were dressed nothing like them. Their attire was basic army attire, green battle armor complete with the bowl-shaped helmet and rifle strapped to their backs.
Upon recognizing them, Timothy smiled. “Or... they can come to us. That works too...” he corrected himself, greatly relieved as he lay back down so he wouldn’t aggravate his wounds further.
When the orphans realized what Timothy meant, they were literally jumping for joy and running towards them. The teenage ones went to help up Lanette, who was still complaining about her leg, and the immobile Timothy, while the younger ones went to congratulate and thank the boy... who was about to fall over from sheer exhaustion. They caught him in concern, and one of them asked, “Are you alright!?”
“Yeah... yeah, I’m... okay...” he replied tiredly. “Just a little tired...” Hoping that the danger was over now, he allowed himself to rest in their arms. “I haven’t done that in a while... I guess I’m a little rusty...” he thought to himself, but he nonetheless smiled. “I’m just glad I could finally protect someone...”
He finally fell unconscious, and the little children could think of nothing to do other than carry him towards the oncoming Resistance members, who seemed more than happy to take him off of their hands. It was the same case with Lanette and Timothy who were unable to move on their own without great difficulty.
“Lieutenant McGuiness.” spoke a gruff voice from in front of him. The speaker was a huge man, looking somewhat like a black-bearded Santa Claus in an army uniform, with a special insignia pinned to the left breast of the jacket that looked like the Earth. In place of a rifle like the other soldiers had, he had what appeared to be a massive chaingun on his back, and a menacing, spike-studded gauntlet was worn on each of his massive hands. “Looks like yah had a bit o’ trouble.”
Timothy managed a weak chuckle. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it... you’re a sight for sore eyes, Heavy.” he replied.
“Heavy” grinned broadly. “Ah’ll bet. Now get goin’, medical crews ‘er waitin’ at the end o’ the slums.”
He and the orphans carrying him were more than happy to follow the order. As they marched on, Timothy caught a glimpse of the sleeping boy who saved his life, cradled in the arms of a Resistance soldier. He felt so dirty for doubting the old man... he was right about him. That barrage of hexagons... it could only have been Formless PSI. Whether he was as miserable as he guessed or not, he alone could be the deciding factor in what becomes of Earth. And he seemed eager to protect everyone, even those he didn’t even know...
He smiled to himself. Maybe this world wasn’t up the creek after all...
Edited by SL the Pyro, 11 May 2012 - 08:27 PM.
