Hello All,
Before you read whatever madness I have below, I figured a brief explanation is in order so you know what to expect for this topic. I’ve decided that I need more writing practice in doing edits and redrafting and figured going back to my favorite scenes/moments in RPs or short stories would serve that well. Alongside some wholly new character focus vignettes for those that weren’t originally in a written format. Depending on the goal, some will be heavy edits and others will be completely new perspective rewrites.
Whatever the case may be, I’ll occasional post whatever is my latest completed exercise here rather than create a new topic for each one. Exceptions will apply for longer short stories or ones related to active RPs here on the boards. Can’t tell you what to expect in this topic, but any and all feedback is appreciated.
As Requested
“Be thankful you have nightmares. It means you are still living.”
That is what mother taught me. She lived through the plague while I grew up on the stories. If she heard me now, cursing that I still dream, would she be mortified? I dread her approval.
My thoughts were interrupted when the guards opened the door. It was one of the aliens this time. The kind that had a permanent grin, yet their grinding scowl could be felt from their massive teeth alone. Some found them stranger than the others, but for me Skakdi were easier to comprehend. The fleshy faces and bizarre spines at least made them seem more like people. Maybe I just mistrust masks more.
It forced me out and corralled me towards some creature. It looked like a massive scarab beetle with several sharp pointy legs. Though, like some of their grotesque monsters, its back half used treads instead of legs. Then its sides opened upwards like a cellar door, the interior looked little different than the cell I just left. Was it a creature or one of their chariots? I had trouble telling the difference.
When I was able to take my focus off the thing, I realized I was not alone. Several other prisoners were being brought out. All fellow Glatorian, fifteen in total counting myself. They must be relocating us, but why or where? They never saw the point in telling us. And once we were all here and the hatches opened, we were forced inside.
There was silence for a long time, no one wanted to anger the freaks. We made small talk, trading what bits of knowledge we had on the invaders. One of them brought up that this chariot was an older model. Newer ones had wheels. Wheels. These freaks tossed about the elements around us like it’s a game and somehow wheels are a grand advancement. But what need did they have for wheels when so many of them could appear anywhere they wished? They never made sense.
A fellow prisoner was quick to bring up that the Brotherhood didn’t have a lack of wheeled vehicles. Which could mean they expected this one to be destroyed on the trip. At the very least, they don’t care if it comes back. Where were they taking us?
It started growing cold. Much colder than the desert nights. Even inside, the chill matched the windy top of the White Quartz Mountains. We must have crossed into the new frozen wasteland that Mata Nui cursed upon our world. One of the drivers complained about the cold and darkness but was silenced to focus on rediscovering the path. At least even the robots preferred warmth.
The chariot finally stopped moving and the hatches opened. Welcoming us into a blinding white void of snow and ice was a rush of freezing wind. It made me shake. I didn’t want to move. If I didn’t, I would be thrown out. When I stood to move and my eyes adjusted, I could see the foreign mountains and the entrance of some cave. We were forced to go towards the cave. None of the guards dared to step towards it.
As I went to take my first step, I jumped. Something moved. I went for my weapon that had long been taken away from me. It moved everywhere. A blur of colors brushed around every one of us. Something so fast, it activated my twitchy reflexes from the arena days. Like I was being shot with a Thornax from behind, only the corner of my eyes catching its movement and reacting on pure instinct.
The others looked at me wondering why I was startled. I tried to explain, but it was so quick. I asked if they saw anything. They saw nothing. One of them said it was probably just snow hitting my eyes. I couldn’t argue, the guards were antsy. But when I looked at the cave, there was something standing outside its mouth now.
It towered above all and its armor colors where foreign to all our tribes. This machine lacked the paint of the others, save for blots of purple and black, it was just the bare darkened metals that made its frame. It did not move but I could feel the stare of a thousand eyes. Almost like it was focusing on me and no one else. But how could it? The glowing eyes behind that mask hardly shone in our direction.
The guards prodded us forward. I took a step and then monsters poured out of the cave’s mouth. Robotic insects, spiders of some kind with massive, bladed legs. These were not the Visorak we heard about, but they were nonetheless ghoulish things. We wanted to run. One of the guards did. He was incinerated for it. We had to stand brave.
They came up beside each one of us, their chompers grinded and chittered together with some sort of silvery drool as they looked us up and down. Nudging forward, we followed our new escorts inside. The robot did not move. Not so much a head turn to watch us go inside. And inside was dark, lit only enough by glowing crystals. We passed by many creatures, all mechanical with natural movement. Just like the spiders, just like the invaders.
After countless turns, we found ourselves in a new room with only a single cell. The robot was already here, standing in front of us. I never saw it appear, it just was there, as if it was always there. When I could pull my eyes from its gripping stare, I saw the stone walls of the cave move and twist. It reshaped itself into thirteen additional cells. The spiders led all the others into a cell while my escorts wandered elsewhere into the darkness. The robot stared at me.
Suddenly, we were somewhere else. The cells were gone. My kin were gone. It was just the robot standing in front of me, its gaze nearly the only light.
The machine did not move but I felt myself lifted into the air. I was thrown against a table and several devices latched on to hold me in place. Then the robot moved. I wished it hadn’t.
The invaders were machines with false flesh, yet they did not move like any device we had known. They moved like people – organic. They moved like the killers in Skrall ghost stories – so natural, so flowing, so wrong for something made of metal. But this one did not move like a machine, it did not move like a person. It was like pressure build-up and release throughout its metal shell, pumped of air and hissing in other places. A gaseous puppet.
It grabbed my lower right leg and felt around my knee. The fingers wormed around, hand twisting, and I started screaming. I could feel it in my bones. Turn, turn, unlock; twist and open; each movement dislodging bone and implant. Then it pulled, flesh tore away, and my lungs gave out from the screaming.
I tried to fight it. Could hardly stay awake. Too much pain. My leg was dripping. The robot was at the other end of the room, standing at a table. Small creatures came and went. I don’t know how long it’s been. Agony feels like forever. Then the robot appeared by my side. It held something, something it was going to pour on me. I couldn’t stop it. There was only one thing I could get my body to do. I could only ask it one thing.
“Why?”
The machine froze. The mask spun towards my face with a deliberate slowness. Its scoped-eye narrowed its lens.
“Why?” The machine repeated.
Though cold, the voice had the quiet strength and lively power of an ancient forest. Yet in its tone, it seemed as though my question was a profoundly silly one. Silly enough to be answered.
“We are Makuta. We are those who maintain the universe – creators and controllers of life. Every beast you’ve seen is of our making. Every plant flourishes as we see fit. You think of us as invading conquerors, but what need do we have for war when we control the very world itself? Burdened to rule since our creation.
“Why did you, Glatorian, fall under the rule of the Great Beings? Was it for their might or vicious armies? No. You fell under them because they could create and alter life. You followed because they could alter the world. You accepted since you would be ruled by what they created anyways. Here we are, same as the Great Beings. Masters of life capable of altering worlds.
“And yet you rebel. You challenge what we make to benefit you, just as you did to the Great Beings. Twisting my brothers into thinking that only by direct rule may they maintain the universe. Using that thin lie of peace. But they are fools. There is no peace in nature, only chaos with limited control.
“Therefore, you must evolve. You must become a beast. It is not as though you aren’t already a worm, but now you will help the forests grow rather than destroy their roots and soil. You won’t destroy the world this time. Not with the Makuta here to maintain it.”
With that, he poured the contents on me. I screamed.