You son of a censored /s
This is an accurate description of my current host body.
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This isn’t what I had in mind when I saw “wacky story”
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You mean the large metal drive shaft which I’ve done a horrible job at explaining was previously on the factory floor and came crashing through the wall and into your face?
Well were you ever alive to begin with?
please, mr. censored is my father
be glad I don’t try my hand at grimdark
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Chapter 13
–
The ascent up the elevator cables was a difficult one, as without the proper use of your feet you were having a difficult time lugging your own weight up two metal cables that required equal tension. Too much on one and you would start flying towards the bottom.
Your solution for this was incredibly dumb: Grab both cables in your massive hands and pretend they were one and also weren’t pinching your hands as you grabbed them. Cordax had his arms wrapped around your neck which, if you were any amount normal, would likely have choked you, but due to your neck being two static metal beams you were capable of tolerating his continued pressure - er, his continued physical pressure. How much longer you could stand his incessant questions was another matter.
“So, like, if you were to assume the collarbone was a lock, could you unlock it with a key or knife?” Cordax seemed oblivious to the back-and-forth swinging of your body as you struggled to ascend the elevator shaft. “And uh, on that note, have you ever considered how the knee becomes more complex as someone gets older? There’s more room in the joint for-”
“Are you asking me all these questions because you just killed a dead person and are trying to figure out how to do it again?”
Cordax was silent for a moment. “No, no, I wasn’t. Sorry, I’m just… Trying to not think about it. Trying to cope.”
You slowed in your ascent slightly, mulling over how to help him out. Annoying or not, you did actually care about Cordax’s well-being. “Know what this facility was for?”
“Making cider? No wait, that’s too obvious.” Cordax mumbled. “Making zombies?”
“No.” You could almost see the lip of the floor you came from. “For whatever reason, Ghid designed this place to safely detonate an atomic blast inside the massive dome we saw on the way over. Why you would want to do that in an apple cider factory is… Well, entirely beyond me.” You instinctively placed your foot on the wall to help your ascent and immediately recalled your ankle injury. “Until we figure that out, don’t tell Pakari or anyone else.”
“If they don’t know, how did you figure it out?” Cordax asked.
Uh oh. You had talked yourself into a corner. This had to be the third… Fourth time in your life such a thing had occurred? If you let it happen again you’d have enough punches in your card to redeem it for a free soft drink and a bracelet with ‘world tour 1995’ written on it.
Nobody will get this reference because it is referencing nothing.
Pushing off the wall with your hand this time, you swung enough to grab the floor you had originally descended from. Pulling yourself up without using your feet was not an easy task, made doubly difficult by Cordax deciding now was a good time to crawl over your shoulder and disembark. Waiting very patiently for him to scramble up your arm to safety, you hauled yourself over the ledge and stood on your knees, trying not to tip backwards into the elevator shaft again.
Wild was the primary light source in the room, zipping madly about as Pakari struggled through the doorway with significant assistance from Winger. Cordax idled nervously, obviously concerned by you not standing like a normal person and by Wild’s erratic movement. Zero collapsed through the hole in the wall a moment later, dragging with him his disconnected leg.
“I couldn’t stop it.” He quietly hissed, making direct eye contact with you. “Had to trap it under some piping to keep it from moving. What happened?”
Wild flew off the balcony and suddenly glowed bright, lighting up the factory floor. All across the building, pieces of machinery were floating on their own, a slight green mist drifting around them. “Cordax, I’m going to kill you so much you won’t even know you’ve been killed.”
“What?” Cordax asked, shuffling back before the question even left his mouth, but Wild repeated himself after zipping two inches from his yellow face. “YOU opened that weird casket thing and YOU are responsible for physics going to pieces! Don’t you know what you’ve done!?”
“Stop it.” Pakari groaned, clutching his side and almost dragging Winger to the floor. “Wild, stop it. Our time is limited. Monopoly, we need to get to the center of this place. We’re running out of time.”
Even though you recalled events after that point perfectly, there is still a narrative hard cut here to the next scene of importance. This works way better in film.
With Pakari in one arm, you were bolting forward, punching through doors and dodging bizarre, deceased individuals reanimated by the ominous power of the shattered skeletal deity. Those which dared to attack you as you rushed on by ended up crushed and deformed from flying attacks by Zero leaping out of the shadows, who also had to deal with Cordax hanging on for dear life and keeping that broken leg handy. Winger ran at the top of his speed behind the party, trying desperately not to lose pace with you as you eventually slid to a halt in front of a massive steel door.
Zero zipped out of the shadows and Winger collapsed on the ground behind you, breathing hard. Cordax disembarked his metallic steed, went into a shadowed corner, and vomited quite extensively.
“This is the spot.” Pakari said as you gently set him on his feet and Cordax wobbled over to your position. “Gentlemen, if you would kindly open the door.”
Lifting Cordax up to reach the lock, you were slightly surprised that he had to fit nearly his whole arm inside the lock in order to get it to open. Bringing your tiny cohort down from the door, you pulled it open and revealed the inside of the dome visible from the bus trip over. Taking two steps inside, you folded your hands behind your back and waited for Pakari and Wild to advance past you.
From behind your back, you pointed first at Zero, then at Cordax. Winger undoubtedly saw you, but what Winger saw didn’t matter. Not this late in the game.
There were two monorails leading from the deck you were standing upon to a central colmun which appeared to be made of black rock. On the top of that column there was a small metal building with one door and no windows. Evidently, this was the place Zero had spent the last month surviving on-
“Oh no.” Pakari gasped and fell backwards, prompting the whole group to move forwards. “The floor down there is full of bodies. If Eilrach’s influence gets into here, he’ll have an unstoppable army.”
Zero had disappeared. Winger was the only one who seemed to notice. You conveniently sidled into Pakari’s line of sight, obscuring the area where Cordax was last. Hopefully that would conceal Cordax’s similarly timed disappearance for long enough to activate the… What was that beeping?
Pakari pulled himself to one of the monitors.
cannot escape
monopoly is a traitor
monopoly is a traitor
killed racie
forced me into a vent
cannot escape
monopoly is a traitor
monopoly is a traitor
killed racie
forced me into a vent
cannot escape
monopoly is a traitor
Well… Crud. You knew you should’ve killed that stupid Krelikan.
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I don’t like you anymore
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what did I do
nothing in particular I just decided
You used basic interjection of the action to create a cliffhanger of what this whole rigamarole is about and I have decided I must know
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I drink it.
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Let my death not be for nothing!
I never did.
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Will the deal with the “Gask mask” ever be resolved did @Monopoly really kill @Racie02 is @N01InParticular possessing @Cordax’s body?
All this in more in the next exciting chapter of the Book of Ramblings
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Chapter 14
–
With a sudden charge you slammed into Pakari, knocking him into the monorail cart. You glared down at your helpless victim as you placed one foot on the lip of the cart, preparing to kick it down the path. Wild, taking a moment to process, flew into a maddening frenzy, but you easily picked his tiny flying form out of the air with your massive palm, squeezing your hand tight to keep him from slipping out.
“The game was fair.” You towered over Pakari, who was trying to determine if he still had any ribs. “You played poorly, and you lost. There’s a bunker on that central column. I think you can survive the blast in there,” You leaned back confidently, consciously aware of the awkward aura radiating off Winger. “But good luck outliving the radiation.”
You kicked the cart with all your might and sent it shooting down the rail. Seeing as your left hand was occupied with holding a flying, glowing particle of dust, you couldn’t grab Winger at the moment, so getting up in his face and forcing him into a wall would have to do. With that out of the way, you put in the necessary security keys and activated the detonation cycle.
“Winger, we need to get the heck out of here and lock that door.” You turned to face him. “As soon as that bomb goes off there won’t be anything left in this place, especially not living people. With any luck we’ll be- Gyaah!!”
Your left hand shot open and Wild, spouting incomprehensible vile words, darted out and began zipping around the room. Your left hand was charred and blackened on the inside, but hey, at least in the drama of the moment you forgot your ankles were killing you.
Actually, on that note… How did you run all the way over here if you couldn’t walk?
“ZZzzzr… NglakLyguk! Wrakco!” Wild began spewing, either inciting an ancient curse or having a stroke. Or, he had been playing World of Warcraft too much. “You wanna nuke Pakari, do ya? Well chew on THIS!!”
Winger had the good sense to duck behind one of the solid metal desks before you did, and as such only you were hit by the sudden blast of heat and light bright enough to instantly blind anyone with normal eyes and hot enough to peel the skin. Even as you scrambled behind cover you could feel the metal beginning to boil. You had severely underestimated Wild.
There were a couple things you could do in response to this sudden change of events and interruption of your egocentric 4D chess you were plotting.
Sit here and get nuked:
The least desirable option as you would probably be dead.
Bolt to the door:
Unlikely that you could outrace Wild to it, much less close it on him.
Winger is crying:
Wait why is Winger crying and going into shock? Oh… Right, because he was a human being and probably in a gigantic amount of pain. That sucks, most assuredly, but you really couldn’t care less. He made the dumb decision to attack you and got roped into this whole mess; he should have known better.
Look, Pakari was probably going to die as well, so it’s not that big of a deal. Stop getting emotional about it and focus on getting out alive. You’ve got more work to do.
C’mon, you literally killed people on the way over here! Why are you having some kind of major reaction to one kid you don’t even like biting the dust? Racie was more likeable than him and all she did was whine. So knock it off, suck up your little baby tears, and get the heck out.
…
FINE.
You smashed your fist into the desk, sending it directly into Wild, who had to deal with already hot metal now becoming molted, sticking to him, and blocking the heat from escaping. Rolling to Winger, you gripped him by the shoulders and shook him to the point of nearly getting whiplash to get him to refocus.
“Lock the door.”
Almost tossing him in the direction of the doors, you bolted after him, grabbing the doors and tugging hard on them. You had barely got them shut when Wild flew into your face and knocked you backwards and through the railing with a blast of heat and light. Iron bar instantly gave way under your weight, and you plummeted downwards towards the pit of bizarre, grey-ish bodies coating the floor.
Head-first, you had always thought. On a lethal fall, it will eliminate the most pain. Well… Now’s your chance to test it.
You closed your theoretical eyes and instantly noticed a green film over your blank vision. Was this a post-death sensation? You hadn’t exactly died before. Unless… Oh no.
Your fall had slowed dramatically, and by the time you reopened your theoretical eyes you could see the entire room upside-down. You were being carried by the ankle; only that could explain the intense pain you were feeling.
“RISEN,” A voice under - well, technically above you - boomed. “ALL IS AS ONCE WAS. WE ARE RISEN; WE ARE EILRACH!!”
The bizarre grey bodies were all floating on their own; their eyes glowing green, their extended jaws clattering. One thing was certain, beyond all else: They were not human. Probably closer to redditor.
Wild was having none of you returning. He immediately resumed the intense blast of heat, only to get dogpiled by hundreds of corpses, as more shot from around the room to replace the ones being burnt away. The countdown for the atomic blast had begun.
Pulling yourself onto the shoulders of the giant whatever-it-was dead thing holding you, you wrenched yourself free in time for it to go rocketing towards Wild. So glad you had a basic understanding of physics thanks to video games. Jumping off at the right time threw you into the door with all the momentum you had, flinging it open upon impact which meant WINGER DIDN’T LOCK IT.
He wasn’t here either, which meant he had found the strength to leave. The countdown had either jumped from ten to three in the span of… Look, it didn’t matter. Close and lock the door before you die; those were your priorities. Grabbing the doors and throwing them shut, you shoved your left hand in the lock to reach the mechanism, and…
…And you reached right past the mechanism, into the hole in the other door.
Up until that point you had given no verbal reaction to pain as none was necessary. But right now, in that moment, you had to let the world know just how much an atomic blast slamming into your arm and ripping it from the elbow hurt. Not that you could hear it over the eardrum-destroying noise of the blast right in front of your face, but it’s the thought that counts.
Your vision blurred for a moment, and you tumbled backwards. Going to sleep was such a nice concept right now… Even though you could feel the air in the room suddenly get much colder, and a hand grab you by the shoulder and drag you back into the lightest darkness you had ever seen…
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yep everyone’s dead.
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why are you such a sadist
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I Came I saw I got stabbed by a 3-foot tall nanotech of course I would be a tad bit pessimistic
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that’s rich.
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*wheeze
Anyways very nice.
I assume we’ll never get closure on the fates of Krelikan, winger, Keksalot etc?
Or is that to be continued… 
Edit:thinking about I’m quite disappointed Ghid wasn’t a boss fight, maybe at the end (of the presumed) trilogy there will be a ghiddy Ghid Ghidora fight?
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this was… interesting. the mob of corpses with Eilrach was a good idea.
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My goodness this is getting out of hand.
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Chapter 15
–
Iodine.
The bizarre taste in your theoretical mouth was radioactive iodine.
Which was weird, because last you checked you didn’t have thyroid cancer.
Your theoretical eyes opened up to take in the swirling mass of noting present above you. Your eyes had no chance of containing the fullness of it, and yet it glowed so darkly. The world itself was blanketed in the mirth and bubbled up in great swells of contempt, boldly proclaiming its distaste for the void; yet the void persisted. Did the void care? You asked the void in your perplexed state if such things were or had been, or could have been or ever will be. The void didn’t know. What a foolish question.
Whoa… You’ve really tripped out. Okay, reassess the situation. There was a large, nebulous form directly in front of your head. A clutching sensation on your left shoulder. You felt movement across the ground; ergo, logic demanded that you were being dragged. How logic unfolded itself is rather simple to define, as you observed events from your perspective and deduced an answer which readily supplied all present parts of your analysis. But why was logic folded in the first instance? Was the figure dragging you truly nebulous? Was he a nebule? If science and logic were to be trusted, could this individual be dispersed if the air pressure was high enough? Or perhaps, if the heat in the room was higher, could he dissolve? You had just left a nuclear eruption. Perhaps you could take him back there, and if the eruption didn’t mind, you could leave him there for a couple of hours. Then you could take an iron to logic to help with those creases…
Okay, now you’re certain you were going mad.
Rattlesnakes, and sitcoms, and melted oil. Tanner’s wax and chapstick. Cast and crew and content.
Who was speaking? It didn’t matter. But since you requested, and since it wasn’t too ridiculous a request, it was visible.
Come, let us return from perception, and grant this antiquated view of individuality.
Your mind seemed to step forward out of the veil, dragging the rest of your body with it. The room was dark as before, but it was the lightest darkness you had ever seen. The void itself was giving off invisible light. Are you sure you didn’t lose a few marbles back there?
In the center of this illuminating shadow stood a figure whose form was vague and uncertain. As soon as you were confident on his appearance it changed. He had the figure of a man, with wide shoulders, two arms, two legs, and one hand resting on a cane. Not for support, but for show. That was about all that remained consistent of him, as his body would be broad, squat, and powerful one moment, and thin, tall, and emaciated the next. Either he changed consistently to avoid detection or you simply couldn’t discern his true stature.
He spoke, but for a moment his words were verbal silence, the sound of nothing colliding with your theoretical ears. Ah, you were thinking in theoretical concepts again. Your sanity was - at the very least - beginning to patch itself together. The second time he spoke you started to lose hope for your sanity, as a hundred voices whispered, shouted, screamed, mumbled, and murmured into your theoretical ears. Don’t forget they were only a concept of ears.
“Rattlesnakes, and sitcoms, and melted oil.” The figure loomed above you, staring down into your tiny form. “You have a skewed sense of morality. You kill the innocent and save the wicked. You ally with the monster in order to perpetuate right. Are you mad, or just dreaming?”
Your theoretical mouth opened, but no sound came out. You had already thought your retort, and the figure replied. “The concept of purity is a dangerous one, hoarder. Who are you to perceive when you submit yourself to relative morality? Your worldview is corrupt and incompatible with reality.”
You retorted again. He responded. “I am in a better position than you are. Each step I take is calculated for outcome. You are not capable of consistently taking every step into complete account, factoring in the moral aspect of every breath. Your stress would overwhelm you. Therefore I am a better judge.”
You replied again, frustrated. This sort of objective superiority was tiring. Again, he responded. “If you are allowed to throw your moral compass into such jeopardy, I am allowed to elevate it. Let a better man judge between us.”
You retorted that, with this worldview, there was likely no better man. Your mental sarcasm was layered on as thick as you could manage. In return he threw something at you. Instinctively you caught it. It was your lower arm. Instinctively, you reattached it, despite that not being physically possible.
“Who are you to determine what is and isn’t possible?” The figure’s voices seemed angry. “Then again, who are you to be here at all?”
The figure loomed his massive head down to your perception, having still been shifting forms the entire time you two communicated, and only then did you notice his eyes. A second pair looked sideways at you from your left. But it wasn’t the eyes which bothered you, it was the eyes inside the eyes. And the eyes inside those. And there didn’t seem to be any perceivable end to the cycle, continuing further, and further, and further, indefinitely, but you couldn’t stop counting them, each grasping for your attention, ignoring your pleas for them to find a finite limit, growing more and more
horrible,
horrible, horrible,
horrible, horrible, horrible,
horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible,
horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible,
horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible,
horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible,
horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible…
You threw the doors open.
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