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Post by Hebihime on Nov 14, 2019 15:13:29 GMT -8
The Southern Islands were a loose archipelago that covered much of the aptly named Southern Sea. They ranged in shape and size from tiny sandbars to huge volcanic islands with lush jungles to everything in between. The waters ranged from calm and sunny to the treacherous region known as the Devil's Trapezoid, where ships vanished without a trace and the sea itself seemed to hate those that traveled it. The Southern Islands were home to more rumors and mysteries than almost any other region on Earth, save for perhaps the demon lands ruled by Piccolo Daimao. From ancient tales of mermaids and the underwater city of Atlantis, to tales of pirate treasure buried beneath the sands, to more recent conspiracies of hidden bases and volcanic lairs used by shadowing organizations to hide their dark schemes. Hardly a single island was without one ghost story or another, and many were the invention of drunken sailors swapping stories around a cold beer in a warm bar. But within every deception was a truth. Every legend had an origin, and many were rooted in truth. Hebihime Manda was on a one woman quest to uncover the lost secrets of these islands, claiming any lingering power they held as her own. The Princess of Snake Way had initially traveled to South City following the lingering magical energies of Fortuneteller Baba's Crystal Ball. The arcane relic held great arcane power, and the serpent deity wished to possess it to augment her own strength. Unfortunately for Hebihime, the current holder of the relic was a martial artist of great virtue and greater strength. He proved too much for her to handle without revealing the truth of her being. She had ended their duel in defeat, her pride as wounded as her body. It was an embarrassing setback, one she was glad none but the warrior himself had witnessed. Pride meant a great deal to a deity, especially one with so much darkness in her heart. Following her defeat at the hands of Kiryu, Hebihime had decided to investigate some of the many rumors of the Southern Islands for herself. The serpent was old, ancient by Earthling standards. She guessed there were only a handful of beings on Earth older than she was... and most of those demons under Piccolo or vampires with their undeath. With her longevity she was afforded a great deal of knowledge forgotten by many. Hebihime knew well of the Red Ribbon Army, the radical paramilitary force that had once begrudgingly allied itself with others in opposition against Piccolo Daimao and his armies. This was common knowledge, what was not... was the many splinter factions formed by their radical change in leadership. Various successor cells, hiding across the globe carrying out their own motives all loosely aligned with the group's original doctrine for world domination. The Red Ribbon Army had once coveted the Dragonballs. The supreme magical relics that allowed the user to summon the Eternal Dragon Shenron and receive a single wish within his vast power. Sadly for Hebihime, she learned not long after her original arrival on Earth that the Dragonballs had been destroyed, out of fear they'd fall into the hands of tyrants and demons. They were right, and she would have fought tooth and nail for them if they still existed. She knew in her black heart many that would have done the same. No, the Dragonballs were gone, her prize taken from her before the search even began. But, there were other avenues to power. If the Red Ribbon Army had sought after the Dragonballs, why stop there? Who was to say they had no sought out other arcane relics, ones of lesser but still incredible power. Would such a global organization not have contingencies are backup plans? She certainly thought so, and with any luck some of those contingency plans ended up in the hands of the many Red Ribbon Army splinter cells. Hebihime had learned of one such group, operating out of a base somewhere in the Southern Islands, and had begun her search immediately. Though she couldn't fly, and didn't have a vehicle of any description, Hebihime did have one very effective means of travel. Her True Form. The massive serpent goddess was hundreds of meters long, and vastly more powerful than her humanoid disguised form. She traveled deep beneath the waves, gorging herself on sharks and whales to sate her hunger while moving from island to island to investigate. When she drew close she simply shifted back into her disguised form and swam the remainder of the way. It was slow going, but she was patient. She had all the time in the world. Her search was limited to large islands, and she had narrowed it down to those with active or dormant volcanoes. A large amount of power would be needed to fuel a hidden base, especially one operated by a military group. To do so they'd need geothermal power most likely, using the heat deep within the Earth itself to power their base. Her search took weeks, yielding little results but Hebihime was undeterred by her slow progress. Until finally, she'd found results. Hibehime was on Bunbuku Island, far away in the Southern Sea. The volcanic mountain that dominated the island, known as Poco Poco, was both geothermally active and very large. There was ample room within its rocky slopes to hide a great cavernous structure such as a hidden base. While exploring the island, Hebihime slammed down her tail on the rocky slopes as hard as she could. The earth beneath her cracked and splintered, but that was not her goal. She heard it, the hollow echo of metal reverberating beneath the rock. "At last, I found it!" She exclaimed excitedly, tail swishing heavily as her eyes shimmered with delight. The serpent woman began searching the immediate area, looking for some kind of hidden door or secret passage. She could just tunnel her way into the base, blasting her way in and carving through the rock herself. But she didn't want to risk any cave ins, or trigger a volcanoic eruption if she overdid herself. Hebihime continued exploring, finding a suspicious spiral pattern in the rocks. She held her head down to the ground, she could hear the faint sound of air rushing between cracks in the rock. This was a door, an entrance of some kind. Hebihime reached down and dug her nails into the rock. She felt around, finding the edge of what felt like a steel plate. Pulling hard she could hear mechanical gears that had not moved in decades being forcibly wrenched open. Sparks flew from the pistols that supported the door as the woman forced it open, likely damaging machinery not meant to be brute forced in such a way. She did not care, she finally found a way inside. Hebihime peered down, seeing a dimly lit but very large room. Red emergency lights flashed, illuminating walkways and catwalks far below. No alarms sounded though, perhaps those systems had been damaged? Or the base lacked sufficient power. It mattered little, and the serpent woman leapt down landing with a metal thunk on the cold steel floor below. When she landed, Hebihime must have activated long dormant motion sensors in the base. Rows and rows of lights began to power on, lighting up landing pads across what appeared to be an underground aircraft hangar. Airships and helicopters with the Red Ribbon Army symbol plastered on their hulls sat in rusting, derelict looking hulks where they had last docked. The entire floor had a thick coat of dust, and it was still and lifeless as a crypt within the hangar. "They must have died, why abandon a base like this?" Hebihime asked herself, as she slowly began to move through the aircraft. Her footsteps echoed throughout the metal walls, and no response greeted her but more lights powering on as she walked deeper. She could tell from even a quick glance this had once been a well funded, and well staffed operation. The equipment looked top of the line... for about a century ago. There were fuel tanks and crates of supplies stacked in tall piles, offloaded from freight elevators that seemed to lead deeper into the base. Clearly they hadn't been strapped for resources, if they had it would be more self evident. Past the hangar was a long service tunnel, and on the far side of that a central corridor with what appeared to be an underground rail system of some kind. Hebihime found a terminal to hopefully summon the supply train, but it beeped angrily at her for not having a key card to swipe. "Annoying." She said under her breath, resigning herself to walking. Or rather, slithering. The train's tunnel looked large enough for her body to fit within. So she transformed back into her true form and began slithering down the rail line like a massive purple snake shaped monorail. It was faster than walking, and gave her a moment to stretch her metaphorical legs. Eventually she found the supply train, sitting idle at the next station blocking the tunnel. Hebihime headbutted it, shoving the heavy locomotive forward enough that she could get around it. She shifted back into her disguised form and hopped up onto the station's floor, looking around as she did. "Central terminal." She said aloud, reading the station's name as she looked over a base directory. Her eyes wandered over the base's many facilities and substations. Aviation, Hydroponics, Barracks, Recreation, Mess Hall, Storage, Firing Range, when suddenly... ah, there it was. "Research and Development." Hebihime said with a fanged smile crossing her lips. Anything of any value would be there. While the 'cutting edge' tech the base might have been developing was likely now obsolete and useless, any research ongoing on magic artifacts would surely be there. Hebihime studied the map one last time, then turned to head down the corresponding access hallway. Her spirits high and her mind already contemplating what treasure awaited her.
Word Count: 1,680 | Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK)
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Post by Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK) on Nov 14, 2019 18:39:41 GMT -8
Anyone just outside the city, enjoying the crisp air and the soft sounds of nature, the birds, the whispering breeze, and the occasional clarion call of a car horn in the distance, would suddenly find their peace and tranquility jolted. The earth beneath their feet shook. It trembled violently. It was quick. It started up and ended just as quickly. But then it happened again. Then it happened again. It was repeating itself in constant staggered patterns, shaking and shivering then silence and stillness then jolts once more. Was it an earthquake? No, no earthquake behaved as such. If it was an earthquake, it would have hit hard and shaken up the area then come to a stop. There may be an aftershock. But there wouldn't be this strange staccato of shaking and stillness.
That is, of course, if there was anyone outside the city.
Was there anyone outside the city? Vidar had no way of knowing. Ever since he began this particular day, standing in the middle of the empty street, with no living soul around, he questioned just what was going on, what was happening?
Not like he had time to consider the boundaries of the world he was living in and the strange rules that appear to be getting broken. He didn't have time to think of anything but the battle happening in front of him. He was part of it. He was one of the main contenders. He was also one of the sources of the constant jolting shockwaves coursing through the city.
Their movements were incredible. The power they were exhibiting was immense. They charged one another, their fists clenched tight. The madman's wide grin all the wider, resembling a caricature more than a man with all the teeth he was revealing. Then there was Vidar, his eyes focused, narrowed, yellow eyes and black sclera focused on the man in front of him. He used his ki as a booster. His arm glowed brightly; brilliant light emanating from between the many metal plates and pieces that made up his arm and then emerged from the shoulder from what looked like a port. It almost made his arm look like a jet, propelling him forward and adding extra power to the punch he was about to unleash.
Their blows met. Fist crashing into fist. The force was so great that the displaced air of both fists colliding burst outwards from their bodies, creating something akin to a sonic boom. The windows of buildings all around them shook violently, a rolling wave of motion coursing through the glass and then in a domino effect each row of windows exploded apart into a rain of glistening glass like diamond dust raining down onto the road and sidewalk below.
The shockwave also struck the ground and caused yet another jolt of power to radiate outwards from the two men through the earth. The buildings around the two trembled, shaking on their foundations, as the sound of furniture crashing about inside could be heard. Large cracks raced up along the sides of buildings, along the sidewalk, and car alarms were set off even a half mile away from where the fight was even taking place.
Their free hands flew forward as well, their second fists slamming into each other as well then they pulled back and leapt back into each other once more. Their fists colliding into those of their enemy again and again. Bam, bam, bam, each time their fists struck another sonic boom, another jolt, and more windows burst apart.
"You're a lot more fun than I gave you credit for!" the cackling mad man spat out as he raised his arms up in an X formation over his face as he saw a powerful straight heading straight force his face from Vidar. The blow struck his forearms and he was sent flying backwards, his feet leaving the ground as he then landed once again but slid across the floor, laughing the whole time even as what looked like pain racked his face. The blow must have at least caused a hairline fracture in his forearm.
Vidar's scanners detected the fracture. In fact, his eyesight was different than most normal humans. While he could look and see the world as any human could, he normally had an overlay over his normal vision. This overlay allowed him to scan others, scan their bodies, get measurements, and even detect for injuries. It had many other practical applications but right now his scanners indicated that there was, at the very least, a hairline fracture in the man's forearm. "I would suggest that you surrender now."
"Oh, are you worried about me? Or do you just want to stop destroying the town?" He grinned wickedly, allowing power to build up in his body, it caused the computers and scanners inside of Vidar's head to set off several internal alarms as the man's body was covered in flaring energy, almost like fire. It licked along his body yet did not burn. It arched off him and dissipated in the air around him as he waved his arm.
The act of doing this caused a pressurized wall of power to tear down across the road to the side of the man, causing cars to go flying, alarms blaring, body crushed and dented before it slammed into the display window of, what used to be, a coffee shop, before the car detonated. The explosion sent fire and smoke throughout the interior, immediately immolating the merchandise within and causing the building to go up in a violent fireball.
"Property damage is immaterial." Vidar commented as he stepped forward, "You must be stopped, whether or not you destroy the city, the buildings can be rebuilt. The roads can be repaved. You will be eliminated." He spoke calmly, his eyes focused and his brow furrowed, as he raised a hand. Light glowing out from between the plates in his arm once more, "My scanners indicate that your arm is injured. That will only be the first of many breaks that I shall inflict on your bones should you refuse to surrender. Stand down."
"A broken arm won't do a thing to me." The man's grin returned. Though as Vidar stared, he noticed something off. It was a small detail. The man's eye appeared to droop. His face appeared to falter, and there was something on his chest. It was there for a split second then it was gone, "I wo-o-o-o-n't lose to you," The man spoke up, his voice suddenly getting deeper then returning to normal as it cracked halfway through almost like a recording on a bad cassette showing its age.
What was going on there? What was up with that? Vidar attempted to scan but the scanners brought up nothing. The man's vitals appeared normal, heart rate slightly elevated, blood pressure slightly elevated, pulse elevated, but nothing that would have explained that odd behavior at all.
Energy collected in front of the man's palm. It took on a shape, a crackling sphere. First it was the size of a small coin, then it suddenly expanded to the size of a nice sized grapefruit. It pulsed with power, radiating light like a miniature sun. The shadows it cast on the man's face only served to make him look slightly more menacing, at least to anyone not Vidar looking on at the two titans staring each other down.
"I'll end this fight now, I'm getting bored with you."
"Then I will have no choice but to end your existence." The blonde cyborg spoke with a clear tone to his voice. No hatred in it. No anger either; there was just the clear simple directive. If he would not surrender, then he would he eliminated, his life traded away for those of the civilians of the city.
Something was happening in his arm. It was shifting. Plates were moving, sliding aside. Underneath the plates, gears were whirring, clicking, and parts were shifting about inside of the completely cybernetic limb. Parts peeled back and moved aside, the arm changing into something else. It resembled a weapon now; and energy was flowing through it and into it, gathering and swelling as it collected.
Both of the men stared at each other; eyes locked onto the eyes of their opponent. One had eyes filled with glee, with malice, and with killing intent. The other's eyes were filled with focus, a serious expression on his face.
"Eat this," The cackling man shouted as his power was unleashed. A crackling, power radiating, energy attack that shot through the air towards the blonde cyborg.
The energy and power that Vidar collected was unleashed. The weapon that his arm had transformed into fired it; it spun, almost like the cycling spinning cylinders of a gatling gun, and with each fast rotation another barrage of glowing energy blasts was released, "Joker!" He called out, the name of this particular attack. A seemingly endless and relentless assault of tightly condensed and volatile Ki bullets that tore through the air and slammed into the glowing sphere of the enemy's attack.
The bullets shredded through the man's attack, much to his shock as he stared, wide eyed, as the bullets continued on toward him unimpeded by anything in their path before they struck his body and detonated. His body engulfed in flame, smoke, and power as the shockwave of the detonation pulsed outward, cracking the ground apart violently and causing buildings around them to shake on their foundations once more.
"End simulation." The voice rang out from somewhere, or more like it rang out from everywhere all at once. It was a familiar voice. It should be. It was His voice. It appeared to be coming from up above in the sky; as if God himself had spoken down to the tiny puny mortals on the realm of his creation. But it was not God. Far from it. It was a man who wished to defy God.
And he had done a good job of it, still alive after all this time; long after he should have drawn his last breath and his heart beat its last. But it was just not enough.
Something happened then. The sky seemed to darken all of a sudden. From the corner of his eye he could see the buildings around him shaking, trembling slightly, and then they began to crumble. They weren't falling apart, collapsing in on themselves. They were coming to pieces as if someone had used some kind of powerful ray gun on them, disintegrating them on the molecular level as they shattered apart in a waterfall of pixels.
But it was not just the buildings. It was everything around him. The cars, both crushed and destroyed as well as those untouched by their battle, they began to crumble apart into a pile of pixels, blowing away in a breeze he could no longer feel. Everything around him collapsed like dust; the trees, the sky above dissolved away, and soon the whole illusion was gone. He was no longer standing in some strange city with missing civilians that made their appearance when convenient to some grander plot. He was standing inside a large chamber, several of the wall tiles were crackling and sparking, damaged somehow.
Across from him he saw a large door, like a vault door. It swung open. Standing there was his creator. The man was different now than he had been so long ago when he had first laid eyes on him. Doctor Kringle's eyes were colder now, somewhat sunken, his skin was pale and his hair was long but messy. Yes, it fell past his shoulders in wild tangles. His lab coat was disheveled and he walked into the room, arms clasped behind his back as he made his way up to the blonde cyborg, his creation.
"You did good, my boy. You're improving. But I believe there is much room for improvement." The man's voice was firm, smooth, and the words rolled off his tongue as he motioned to the door, to the exit, "You know what to do. It is time for yet another upgrade. Your reflexes have improved but I can make them better, sharper."
"Yes, Doctor," The boy spoke, politely, and began to make his way out of the simulation chamber. Just outside the chamber was the lab. It was immense. There were so many computers, so many terminals. There were so many countless buttons, switches, levers, keyboards, lights of many colors, and so many different beeps and boops and other mechanical sounds. But he ignored all of that. There was a stasis pod in the center of the room. It stood out, it was atop a small pedestal, the door opened, hanging open over the pod. The interior was padded so it was comfortable, and the pod leaned back ever so slightly so once he was inside, he could lay in the pod.
He crossed the room, climbed up atop the pedestal, entered the pod and leaned back against the cushions as per the usual. The old man followed him every step of the way, speaking to himself, muttering about needing to make changes to the simulation, to increase the boy's reflexes, increase his power output, and find a way to make his body more durable.
Once Vidar was inside the pod, Doctor Kringle stood in front of him, connecting the wires and tubes to their respective ports. "Get some rest, and when you wake, we shall continue your enhancements."
"But, Doctor, I am not tired."
The man grinned, already knowing this. He always told the boy to rest and the boy always told him he was not tired. He could not get tired. "Yes, I know. Now close your eyes, and go into dormant mode. The upgrades will take some time."
"Yes, Doctor." With that, Vidar shut his eyes, The door of the pod slid shut and the pod sealed itself with a soft hiss as it leaned back ever so slightly.
Moving over to his computer, Doctor Kringle sat and got to work. He was the only one there. The only one left. But that did not matter. As long as he was there, as long as his brain existed, he could continue his work. Gero was a fool. Wheelo was a failure. His creation was growing at a geometric rate, stronger, faster, and soon even Piccolo Daimou would be crushed under his heel. Kringle would see to it.
It happened suddenly. As it always does. Death always had a way of sneaking up on someone, unsuspecting, and without warning. It came in, took what it wanted, and it slipped out just as quickly and quietly. Well, Death had come. It arrived to Doctor Kringle as he worked diligently at his computer console. It did so without pomp or circumstance, without fanfare. His mechanical heart, what took the place of his original organic heart years ago, suddenly stopped beating. It had beaten so strong and so well for so many years, but even cybernetic parts had their limit. He had a few moments left before he would die. He could feel it. He felt the heart stop and he moved quickly to get as much done as possible with what little time he had left. Rerouting power, almost all of it, to one stasis pod. The one thing that mattered, his creation.
The room's lights went dim and as he finished his due diligence, as did the life in his eyes. Doctor Kringle was no more.
But, time went on. Time waits for no man. Time waits for no machine. Time waits for no god. Dust settled on everything. On the floor. On the forgotten helicopters. On the old railway. Dust had settled onto computers, keyboards, and even the card readers, and everything else in the lab. Many dozens of spiderwebs were created and were abandoned as even the spiders left for greener pastures. The lab was forgotten. And it was not opened or entered. Until now. The lab lay sprawled out before the snake goddess; filled to the brim with, more than likely outdated, technology.
There was a body nearby. The body of the man, or whoever it was, was draped over the console, slumped onto it as if the person had suffered a fatal stroke or cardiac arrest in the midst of working. They wore a lab coat. There was a spot on the back where a logo had once been and it had been ripped away.
The prone and motionless dead body was in surprisingly good condition for a corpse, as if the man had only recently just died yet it gave off no smell; little to any smell of rot or decay. So it made the man appear more like a fallen mannequin than anything else.
WC: 2,810
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Post by Hebihime on Nov 14, 2019 20:00:35 GMT -8
Hebihime had continued down the main halls of the compound towards the research lab. Aside from boxes of supplies and the occasional discarded forklift the halls were empty of life save for her. The base offered no signs of a struggle. There was no damage from blaster rifles or ki, and no bodies to speak of. She had come to the conclusion since the base was well supplied, and the aircraft had been left untouched in the hangar, whatever men were stationed here had not evacuated. If they hadn't left, and they hadn't been killed, what had they done? Did they simply live out their last days until they died? Or had some magic or teleportation technique carried them away to someplace else. She supposed it mattered little, as she came to a large, sealed bulkhead door to the research lab. Her violet eyes gazed up at the sign over the door. Research and Development, the letters faded with age and caked in dust. Hebihime walked up to the key card reader on the door, knowing how this was going to go. She pressed the button to open the door. "PLEASE INSERT KEY CARD!" The terminal told her in a robotic tone. She rolled her eyes, pressing her hand to a fingerprint scanner. "UNKNOWN FINGERPRINTS. PLEASE RETRY!" It commanded this time. The now irritated woman reached for the door handle and gave it a tug. "ERROR, PRESENT KEYC-" The terminal was midway through its command, when her fist punched its way through the screen. The robotic voice fell silent, and there was only a crunch of metal and a crackling of electricity from frayed wires. "I tried being nice." Hebihime said, giving the now destroyed terminal a very nonchalant shrug. "I guess we do it my way then." Just like always, she thought to herself. The woman braced her feet, reaching out and digging her nails into the steel of the heavy bulkhead door. She heaved with all her strength, the door groaning and creaking as its steel pistons and hinges buckled under the strain. With a tear of metal and steel, Hebihime tore the door from its mountings, shoving it aside as it fell forward with a heavy metal clash. She assumed it didn't crush anything too important beneath it, as she stepped through the open doorway and into the research lab. Looking around, this room looked in marginally better condition than the others. The lights were already on, firstly, and the emergency lights bathed the lab in a red glow. Hebihime walked forward, inspecting the various research tables as she did. Most seemed empty and unused, as if the room had been understaffed in its final hours. A large super computer stood on the far side of the room, and Hebihime made her way towards it. The device was old, but still state of the art compared to most personal computers. She fumbled around for the power button, before a red triple R logo flashed on the monitor. "Red Ribbon Resurgence... hmm, so that's what they called themselves?" She said under her breath, waiting for the computer to boot up. While it did that, the woman took a chance to look around. The first actual corpse she had seen lie slumped by its chair not far from her. She leaned down inspecting it closely. Its soul had long since departed, she sensed no energy coming from it in the slightest. But the body was in remarkably good condition, almost perfectly preserved. Curious to find out how it ticked, she grabbed the corpse by the sides and nonchalantly ripped it in half. Cybernetic organs spilled out, leaking a combination of blood, oil, and hydraulic fluid onto the ground. "Artificial humans. Just like those damned androids..." Hebihime said aloud, kicking away the lower half of the severed corpse. She disliked androids greatly. The completely artificial kind had an energy she could not sense, and had souls in their artificial minds. It gave them an element of surprise against her she disliked greatly. "What is it with these Red Ribbon fools and their false humans?" The serpent woman wondered aloud, looking back at the computer. "Are they simply trying to surpass the frailty of the human body?" The computer asked for a fingerprint this time, and although annoyed this time Hebihime could provide. She grabbed the arm of the corpse's upper half and placed its cold dead hand on the reader. The machine scanned for a second, then buzzed green. The main screen unlocked, revealing whatever had been opened last prior to the man's death. It had some kind of display reading about a man, Hebihime could care less as she minimized that tab and began furiously typing. She began searching the computer's databanks for anything related to the magic and the arcane. Searches included 'magic', 'sorcery', 'arcane', and 'dragonballs.' "Come on... give me something." Hebihime said in an increasingly angry tone. Nothing, just old notes on the Dragonballs and records of old Red Ribbon Army members with magical abilities. Her search became more frantic, and she pounded buttons furiously as she searched through the base's archives. Minutes passed and eventually Hebihime relented the fact that she could find nothing. "USELESS!" She roared, grabbed her chair and throwing it hard against the wall. It exploded into pieces and she slammed her fists down hard enough to leave deep indents in the super computer. She had come all this way for nothing. It filled her with rage, and she had half a mind to transform and tear this base apart in her anger. Exhaling sharply, Hebihime calmed herself and began typing on the computer once more. She pulled up those last opened files. The ones her corpse had been working on prior to his death. Eyes darting back and forth as she read through the documents. Something about a man named Vidar, and a project: Ragnarok. She recognized the word, some of human doomsday prophecy. Were these scientists making a doomsday weapon? The thought intrigued her. She read further. Most of the documentation was beyond her, Hebihime was old and wise, but she was no scientist. Technical documents and data logs meant nothing to her. She pulled up a diagnostics program was a stasis pod, it flashed 'upgrades complete' in blinking letters. She clicked through the update, looking over the pod's vitals. There was a heartbeat, faint but it was being picked up by the computer. And brainwaves, however they barely moved. The person was in a medically induced coma, or something very similar. Hebihime was curious, and turned to inspect the pod first hand. It stood on a raised dais in the center of the room. Large and round, with a glass roof. She wondered if the design had been reverse engineered from the Saiyan's medical machines. The glass was caked in dust, and Hebihime brushed it aside from her tail. Inside she saw a man, eyes closed laying motionless with his arms at his sides. His body was unlike any she'd seen. An amalgamation of flesh and metal, with cybernetic components visible melded with organic ones. She had seen androids, she had fought robots. This man was neither. Her curiosity was piqued, and she had to know what made him so special. Hebihime returned to the super computer, clicking through the diagnostics program for the stasis pod until she found the release mechanism. "Awaken tin man." The serpent said with a wry smile, turning back to the stasis pod as she disengaged the safeties. The pod hissed as the seals released, steam venting from its sides as the door slowly slid open. Hebihime stood watching, arms crossed as she impatiently tapped her foot. Eagerly awaiting the man within to regain consciousness. She turned to look at the bisected corpse, smirked at the aghast face of the dead scientist before she spoke to herself. "Your secrets are mine now old man. Your great works belong to the Princess of Snake Way. I hope you're cursing me from Hell this very moment." She hadn't exactly found what she wanted. There were no great arcane relics in this base. It was just a dusty tomb, filled with these strange artificial humans that were a chimera of flesh of steel. Hebihime sorely hoped the one in stasis would revive itself, she had endless questions to ask the creature of this wretched place.
Word Count: 1,405 | Total Word Count: 3,085 | Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK)
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Post by Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK) on Nov 15, 2019 7:33:46 GMT -8
The computer was filled with files. Oh, there were so many of them, files within files, documents, experiment logs, video files, images, and while some of the files were corrupted and were inaccessible, some of the files were able to be opened and read. It was those files through which the Princess of Snake Way had trolled through. There was so much information in them; the man whose body she had bifurcated must have been an obsessive compulsive about details because he did not skimp out on them. Every file, every single one, had every piece of information that one could need, or not need, about any given day. From the details of an experiment, to the variables of the experiment, to any detail that the man thought could be of importance - including small glitches in things like the simulation room causing flowers to grow out of walls and for gravity to suddenly fluctuate in random ways such as civilian models suddenly walking up the sides of buildings as if their shoes were covered in industrial adhesive.
But, despite all of that detail, all of the files on the seemingly countless experiments he did - some of the files even detailed the deaths of other scientists and assistants that had worked in the base and how their bodies were then re-used for the purpose of science in later experiments - with very vivid details as to how each experiment was carried out, each surgery, and each failure, there was still no information that she could gleam off them regarding any form of powerful artifact.
There just did not appear to be any in the forgotten base. There were relics of the past,that was for sure, given the sheer amount of outdated computer technology that dotted the entire place and could be seen in every hall, every corner, and every square inch of the dust covered lab that still smelled of recycled air - making it almost resemble a dusty hospital. But those did not appear to be the type of relics the snake goddess was searching for.
As the woman worked to unseal the pod and awaken the man held therein, the computers began to awaken as well. Most of the power had been drawn away from the rest of the structure, that much was being shown on the computer. In fact, 90% of the power was being poured into the stasis pod, and the very little power left over was being used to run the security systems, the card readers, and the emergency lights which flooded the room in a grotesque red glow that made it appear like the interior of a bordello. Such an odd overlay of images, yes? The outdated, dust covered, and long forgotten computers, consoles, monitors, and of course the broken body of Doctor Kringle laying on the floor, all covered in red as if someone had gone to town with a gallon of bright red paint.
On the large monitor, words were screaming across the screen, flowing across it with great speed as the computer began to do as it had been commanded by Doctor Kringle; really, by Hebihime using the corpse's fingerprints to her own ends, but the computer did as it was told either way. As long as the fingerprints were correct, the computer did not care who accessed its secrets.
....Initiating Startup Sequence… ….System Ready….
Several errors flooded the screen. They flashed in blood red with dramatic exclamation points to make it well known to anyone, even the least technologically savvy that there was a problem, or to be better put, several problems. The warnings included malfunctions, fried circuits, and various other things. But each problem was met with the system rerouting through other circuits, or the problem was unresolved and the computer continued on with its operation.
Initiating AWAKENING PROCESS… PROJECT: RAGNAROK Updates Complete. No Further Updates Required.
Initiating…. Initiating…. Start Up Process at 0%.....10%.....25%.....30%....45%.....67%.....79%.....88%......90%.....100% Start Up Process Complete.
The pod shuddered, with a groan it tilted somewhat, and dust slid off the strange shaped object in the process of moving into position. The sound of groaning creaking metal, of tumblers, of gears grinding after many years of abandonment, of lack of maintenance, it all could be heard. The sounds echoed throughout the chamber within which the only sign of life was the woman standing there, waiting for her prize to be revealed like an eager game show contestant wondering what secret lay behind Curtain Number One.
As the ancient pod unleashed a wave of steam and hissed with pressurized air, the lid shook and shuddered as it slowly rose up, gears grinding ever step of the way, groaning in complaint until finally the lid was fully raised and the woman could get a good look at what was inside the pod. It was, in fact, a man. He stood somewhere around five feet and ten inches tall. His build was well toned, muscular, but not overburdened with muscular build. Or at least, that is how he appeared to be constructed. It was a strange mixture of organic material and metals. His arms, for example, gleamed in the red emergency lights, which quickly faded to a normal soft white as the power was once again re-routed away from the pod and towards the rest of the lab.
There was no further need for the stasis pod to be drawing so much power if the stasis pod would no longer be in use.
The blonde man was clad in a pair of simple jeans, what looked like a pair of sneakers of no determinable make or model as they lacked any form of recognizable logo, and a simple sleeveless top which showed off the fully cybernetic arms he sported. The top had a patch on the chest, or at least it had a slightly discolored spot where a patch used to sit, a logo, though it was easy to tell just what the logo had been. It had been unceremoniously removed from the shirt, from the look of it. The shirt also had a hood, though it was not pulled up, and drawstrings.
INITIATING PROJECT RAGNAROK...
Light flowed into the room, from within the pod itself, as energy began to build up. It built up within the actual man, his body. The glow of it could be seen emanating from between the plates on his cybernetic arms and even from the vents on his shoulders and then the light faded as his eyes opened wide, a soft electric blue glow emanating from his eyes before fading away as well. His eyes were odd. As soon as the glow dissipated, they revealed his yellow irises and the black sclera, something else that made him look different than any other cyborg or fully mechanical robot construct.
STARTUP SEQUENCE COMPLETE. PROJECT RAGNAROK READY.
His eyes swept across the room as he leaned forward. The various thick cables and lines which were hooked to the various ports running up along the sides of his cybernetic arms detached with audible clicks and soft hisses of pressurized air as he was fully released from the captivity of his stasis pod.
Vidar stood in front of his pod, atop the dais, taking a moment to collect himself, before his eyes fell on the woman who had awoken him.
His scanners got to work almost immediately, his eyes' irises glowed a soft bright gold as they did this, scanning her body from head to toe as if attempting to get any information as to who this individual was. It got her height simply enough, her weight was calculated rather quickly, but her species remained UNKNOWN as did her identity.
"Your identity is not in any data bank." The blonde man commented, at last, after a long and pregnant moment of silence.
WC: 1,310 CWC: 4,120
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Post by Hebihime on Nov 15, 2019 15:16:15 GMT -8
Hebihime looked up as the emergency lighting turned off and power was restored to the research lab. Normal florescent lighting bathed the room, and several of the auxiliary systems seemed to power back up in the background. She watched the strange automaton in the stasis pod, this 'Project: Ragnarok' as the dull blue glow that emanated from his mechanical components faded. There was a pneumatic hiss as power couplings and varying wires detached from assorted points on his body, and the color drained from his augmentations as they were disconnected from the lab's systems. Vidar, as the files had named him, stood upright. He looked around the room slowly, a blank, emotionless look on his face. Most people would be distressed at waking up in a room with a stranger after an unknown amount of time. These two were not 'most people.' The cyborg's eyes shone bright yellow as he studied Hebihime, and she crossed her arms as his gaze wandered over her chest down towards her hips. "I hope you enjoy what you see." She said playfully, it wasn't everyday someone studied her alluring figure so unblushingly. The cyborg spoke simply in reply, stating he did not know Hebihime and that it did not exist on any of his records. Good, at least that meant the Red Ribbon Army had remained ignorant of her for all these centuries. "Well, I would be more surprised if it was." The woman stated coyly, walking slowly around the man inspecting the cyborg more thoroughly. Her long tail brushing lightly against his metal limbs, and the soft fabric of his attire. His apparel did not seem to have aged a day, meaning the stasis pod was vacuum sealed and completely sterile. How had he gotten oxygen during his long slumber? Had it been pumped into his body through one of the many tubes connected to his backside? Or did this strange amalgamation of flesh and steel no longer need to breath? Her gaze wandered to his torso, and at a glance she could see the cyborg taking shallow breaths. His chest rising and falling slightly. "How about we make formal introductions then." The serpentine woman said, running a hand along the cyborg's face and tilting his head so his yellow gaze met her own violet eyes. The two were virtually the same height, it was rather convenient. "I am Hebihime Manda, the Serpent Sorceress. Half Saiyan, Half Beastfolk. My mother was a witch, and my father a mercenary. And I myself am something of a treasure hunter." She let go of the cyborg's face, turning away as she slowly paced about the room. "It took me ages to find this base, it once belonged to the Red Ribbon Army didn't it? Before your splinter cell of the group took over." Her fingers ran along a counter top, disgusted at the thick layer of dust. "Whatever your last memory is it has been years since then. Decades possibly, though the equipment in here is too new to be a century old." Hebihime sighed and turned around, pacing her way back towards the cyborg as he silently watched her. "Anyways... where was I? Oh right. I came here seeking any objects of great magical power. Dragonball shards, enchanted weaponry, cursed tomes, crystal balls, that sort of thing." She waved her hand dismissively, as if this was an everyday occurrence or a simple shopping list. "I found none of that on you base's computer records. Instead, the only thing of value was a rather handsome metal man locked in a stasis pod. In my generosity I decided to reawaken him." She said, her smile widening as it displayed the venomous pairs of fangs in her mouth. "So now its your turn, Vidar. Tell me more about yourself, this Project: Ragnarok, and anything of importance regarding this base. You are seemingly the sole survivor, their secrets rest with you alone now."
Word Count: 665 | Total Word Count: 3,750 | Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK)
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Post by Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK) on Nov 16, 2019 7:00:34 GMT -8
His eyes had glowed brightly as he scanned over her body. There was not an inch of her figure that his eyes did not roll over. But, his expression never changed as he did this. This was probably something that Hebihime was accostumed to. Well, she was possibly accustomed to men staring at her, ogling, possibly even undressing her with their eyes. But, the way he looked at her was wholly different than that.
In fact, his brightly glowing yellow eyes were taking in her details in a different manner than most men would. His scanners were picking up information; so, for example, her height, her weight - which was determined using complex calculations that his cybernetic enhanced brain deduced within a matter of milliseconds - the color of her hair, her skin tone, and even her measurements. All of those details, those statistics, were taken into account.
Yet he did not look at her with the lust and the hunger of a normal man. He looked at her more like a scientist, acknowledging and documenting her details rather than drooling over them with ill intent.
He stared upon her full bosom, her shapely hips, her long hair and pretty face with unblushing blankness. And that continued even as she walked up to him, walked around him, and inspected him in turn. She got a good look of him too; she would see that his body was well-built, in more ways than one; he had what some would consider a well-toned body, a nice physique, though one could tell that underneath some of the visible musculature there was something underneath the skin, the cybernetic upgrades. He stood rigid and stoic and silent even as she ogled him, her tail coyly and teasingly caressing his mechanical limbs and the softness of his clothing, which was not in any way special. In fact his clothing could be considered common street wear. If not for the obviously cybernetic arms and other augmentations, one could almost mistake him for a normal person, from behind at least; his strange eyes were hard to mistake as anything normal or human.
Then she moved in front of him. She grasped his face and looked into his yellow eyes. Even then, when they were that close, his expression did not change. Most would have called the closeness somewhat uncomfortable, but not him. He remained as stoic and silent as a Queen's Guard. Listening to her speak, watching her every movement, studying everything he could study in order to create some semblance of a profile on this individual, give him something to work with.
When the flirtatious woman let go and began to speak once more, he listened. He listened very closely, in fact. Everything the woman said was being taken down; mentally he was creating a file on the woman, a dossier. Already the dossier was fortuned with a picture of the woman, taken by his scanners, her measurements, height, weight, all the rest of those details, but also her name. Hebihime Manda was placed at the top of the internal dossier; of course, below it was her species, an odd combination of saiyan and beastfolk, though it did, at least explain the tail as well as those fang-like teeth she possessed. Her familial information was also taken down, a witch mother and a mercenary father, though their names were left with the words NOT APPLICABLE beside them. Then she commented that she was a treasure hunter. That detail was placed under the heading TRADE.
This explained how and why she was there, which she further elaborated on as she walked away from him.
Though as she did walk away from him, it allowed him a moment to turn his eyes away from her and to the lab around him. The lab was in disarray. There was a thick layer of dust covering everything; fifty years worth of dust, to be precise, compounding layer upon layer of filth on top of one another as years and decades worth of lack of maintenance and abandonment did their work. He spotted the corpse of Doctor Kringle, and as the woman continued speaking, he made his way over to the body. Or, well, to the upper half of his body. His lower half lay on the ground several yards away.
He pulled the man’s body up, sitting him up in his favorite chair by his personal computer console and looked at the man’s face. He did so dutifully and, almost, gently as if he were afraid of harming the, obviously very dead, scientist. One would almost call it the affection of a son, placing his father in his favorite reclining chair. He brushed the hair out of the man’s face then stood upright.
A simple diagnostics scan confirmed the man was dead; it was also rather obvious since he was bifurcated in two pieces. Even a cyborg would have a hard time surviving that, especially one as obsolete as Doctor Kringle. Whilst Vidar was the pinnacle of Doctor Kringle’s research, he had personally done very little to upgrade himself in ways to reach the level of sophistication as his creation. He was, oddly, not concerned with such details. He was married to his research to care. Stil, the diagnostics also confirmed how he died. His obsolete mechanical heart had finally failed.
“If you are here to search for such things, you will be sadly disappointed,” the cyborg looked at his creator, dead, not turning to face the woman. His face had yet to change expression. Though there was a glint of something in his eyes, was that sadness? It was hard to tell but if one examined closely, they could see there was something in his eyes, actual emotion, “Doctor Kringle did not care for such trinkets. Although, I am aware that other factions, and especially the Red Ribbon Army while under the command of Commander Red and later Doctor Gero, did search for and acquire such things. I am, however, unaware of the properties, powers, or locations of said objects. I can only assume, if it has been as long as you claim, that all that remains in the lab at this moment is you, me, obsolete machinery, and this corpse.” Though, even as he spoke somewhat coldly, stoically, and almost distant and removed from the situation, he gently petted the dead scientist’s head.
When the hybrid woman queried about him, about Project: Ragnarok, and said it was his turn to divulge his own information, the blonde man took a moment then he turned to look at the obsolete computer console beside the corpse. “You have already accessed my files. The name the doctor gave me was Vidar. I have no knowledge of any other name before that. Project Ragnarok was, or is, my designation. The purpose of the project was to create a being, a blend of bio-organic and cybernetic elements. However, not to create artificial life or artificial intelligence, but to upgrade and perfect the flawed mortal body of already existing life. Secondary purposes included hunting down and destroying any that pose a threat to Planet Earth; including but not limited to Piccolo Daimou and his allies.”
He spoke clearly. There was not even a hint of attempting to twist the truth or hide the facts. He spoke plainly. Telling her all the information that he knew without much care. What care could he have? The lab was abandoned, the Doctor was dead. There was nothing left to protect there. “Is the Demon King still alive or is he dead?”
He turned to look at his stasis pod for a moment. He had been in the confines of that machine for nearly half a century, or perhaps the exact fifty years. He could not tell. Nothing was the same anymore. The Doctor was dead, all the other scientists, he knew were dead, and that only left him. The only surviving member of the splinter cell.
Though there was something else that kind of bothered him. Well, it wasn't so much that it bothered him, it just left him oddly perplexed. He peered over at the woman, turning to face her, "You mentioned earlier if I liked what I saw, why would I have enjoyed that?"
WC: 1,380 CWC: 5,500
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Post by Hebihime on Nov 16, 2019 10:01:49 GMT -8
Hebihime had watched the cyborg as he took in everything she said. Most obvious was the fact he outwardly showed no visible change in emotion. The shock of realizing he'd spent decades in stasis, the death of his creator, and the abandonment of his faction. None caused Vidar to so much as bat an eye or shed as tear. She wondered if his face was simply less animate than it had been as a human or if his mind had been tampered with to limit his emotional responses. Make him more akin to a soulless killing machine, or perhaps it was more simple than that, and Vidar had already been an extremely stoic man even during his life as a human. The serpent woman did not care enough at present to bother asking, not that she knew how well the cyborg would take such probing comments. She could tell he was continuing to study her as she talked at length, likely analyzing her with whatever cybernetic upgrades had been installed into his body. Hebihime did not mind, her illusions were magic, no science could pierce the veil of her disguise and see her for what her true form was. Though if his ki sensing abilities were enhanced enough, Vidar would be able to see the evil godly ki that radiated from Hebihime in an ominous black aura of malevolence. She watched as he tended to the corpse of his slain doctor. "Your creator, I presume?" She asked rather dryly, unashamed of the fact she'd ripped the man's corpse in half. She wondered if the cyborg would even realize that fact as he tended to his master's 'wounds.' Hebihime's heart sunk when Vidar explained she'd be let down if she'd come all this way just to search for magic relics. "Trinkets? Trinkets!?" She exclaimed, stomping her foot down. "You have no idea the power the Dragon balls granted before their destruction..." She did not elaborate on that matter, it was nothing the cyborg needed to know. Hebihime did not in her heart truly believe the Dragon balls had been destroyed for all time. She knew Piccolo Daimao had his armies scour the globe for the fragments, trying to painstakingly reassemble them. Others likely did the same, though she herself did not possess so much as a single shard despite centuries of searching. That fact was a bitter pill for the serpent deity to swallow. "I already knew all about Commander Red and Gero." Hebihime said in an irritated and dismissive tone, waving off Vidar's comments with a wave of her hand. "That is old knowledge, and I'd hoped this base would yield me something more recent." Her tail slammed down on the floor, hard enough to crack the tile as the woman was filled with anger at the cyborg's revelations. He knew nothing she did not, and claimed this entire base was unconcerned with magic relics. This entire venture had been a waste, and it filled her with anger. She had half a mind to tear this facility apart to vent some of her frustrations. The vicinity of Poco Poco volcano directly adjacent to the base was enough to keep those destructive impulses in check, for now. Instead she listened on Vidar's explanations as to his purpose, and that of Project: Ragnarok. It was as she had guessed, humans trying to surpass the frailty pf their form. Humanity had no great gifts but their own ingenuity. Saiyans had their powerful biology and their Oozaru forms. Namekians had incredible natural regeneration and an affinity for magic. Beastmen had great physical strength and ability, and Demons had vast and terrible powers from Other World and beyond. It was only natural mankind eventually try to ascend itself through technology and science where nature and biology had left them wanting. Hebihime perked her attention at the revelation that Vidar had been created to hunt down not just the mighty Piccolo Daimao, but also any enemies of planet Earth. "What a benevolent, if not lofty goal." The woman said sarcastically in reply. Thus far the cyborg seemed wholly ignorant to the fact one such threat stood before him. Well, perhaps less so than the others. Hebihime was no mindless destroyer, hellbent on destruction or conquest. Nor did she wish to forcibly rule upon the Earth. No, quite the opposite. She wanted others to follow her, and do so willingly. As a goddess she longed for followers and worshipers the way a mother longs for children to bless her womb. A cult was what Hebihime craved most, not a nation of enslaved victims who cursed her name and burned with the fires of rebellion. She had seen how the 'subjects' of Piccolo Daimao acted towards their demonic masters, and she was unimpressed to say the least. When Vidar asked if the Demon King Piccolo yet lived, Hebihime simply held a hand to her mouth and suppressed a hearty laughty. "Ohohoho, you were serious about your purpose, weren't you Vidar?" She answered back sardonically, shaking her head as she replied. "No, much to all our chagrin, Piccolo Daimao yet lives, and is seemingly as powerful as ever. Earth has been without heroes mighty enough to challenge him for centuries, and his rule goes unopposed save for petty rebellions among the ranks of his demonic generals and lieutenants." Hebihime knew this all, because she had long since been one of them. While not part of his inner circle, the serpent deity had worked with Piccolo Daimao on several occasions. He valued her willingness to do nearly any task, provided the proper payment. And she valued his ability to procure powerful artifacts and magical relics to grant her as compensation. She also periodically served as his executioner, devouring his enemies whole or gorging herself on his prisoners when he grew tired of torturing them. Despite all this, Piccolo rightfully lacked any desire to trust Hebihime as a close confidant. She in turn had no desire to directly challenge Piccolo's obvious might, instead working to undermine him by inciting distrust and descend among the ranks of his subordinates. She did so enjoy learning whenever he had ordered the death of a lieutenant she had seduced or goaded into conspiring against him. The paranoia of traitors kept the 'good king' on edge, which meant less resources spent trying to monitor Hebihime's own malicious schemes. One day though he might catch on to her, and she was not looking forward to the battle that would follow. Problems for another day though, they had played this game for centuries, they would play it for centuries more if need be. "The world has not sat by idly while you slumbered Vidar." The serpent said venomously, pointing an accusing finger at the cyborg. "However strong your creators' envisioned you to be, I promise you, you are not strong enough. Demons rule the fringes of the major continents, vampires, undead, and monsters prowl the Dark Kingdoms serving their dark masters. All while you have languished idly in a pod, oblivious to it all." She stated this not to warn the cyborg, but to hopefully demoralize him. She wanted him endeared to her, if nothing else. He could prove useful, and Hebihime did not want more foolish notions crowding his head. Hebihime's face flushed red as Vidar made his final comment, asking her bluntly what she meant by her earlier comments if he liked what he had seen. "You can't possibly be that dense, can you?" She said dejectedly, taking irritated steps closer to the man. Hands on her hips as a pouty scowl crossed her face. "Am I not the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on? Do you not find my alluring and attractive?" Her tail reached out, wrapping around the man's back and pulling him close against her. Letting her soft chest squish against his bio-mechanical body. "Tell me I stir something in your metal heart. Desire, compassion, longing, lust... envy perhaps?" She was grasping for straws, and the cyborg looked more perplexed than anything. Hebihime silently cursed that she may have found the first man truly immune to her feminine wiles that wasn't a soulless android or a lifeless undead.
Word Count: 1,380 | Total Word Count: 5,130 | Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK)
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Post by Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK) on Nov 16, 2019 23:03:16 GMT -8
It was odd, how distant Vidar had behaved. Even when he had learned about the fate of the lab, the fate of his creator, and perhaps the fate of everyone else in the small splinter cell that had worked tirelessly to create him, he had remained oddly stoic and blank faced. It would almost appear to anyone else that he did not seem to care or was unable to express any emotion whatsoever. But, actions spoke louder than words, or at least that was the old refrain. And when he saw the corpse of his creator, he gently picked him up, affectionately set him down in his old chair, and kindly adjusted and fixed up his hair. He listened to what the woman was saying, getting angry off to the side, but his focus appeared to be on the body of his creator.
“Yes, this was Doctor Kringle,” He spoke, gently plucking the glasses the corpse was wearing and then using a small cleaning cloth that was in the lab coat’s pocket, he wiped the glasses clean then placed them back onto the man’s head. He did so softly, carefully, and with great attention to detail, making sure that the lenses were fully spotless before placing them back on his head. Then he would fold up the cleaning cloth and tucked it away in the corpse’s pocket. He had treated the body with such tender care that one would almost think that he almost believed the man would awake and thank him for the great job he was doing.
“He resurrected this place. It was a forgotten relic back when we came here. I guess it is a forgotten relic again now.” He stood upright in front of the cadaver of his creator and then turned to face the woman as she had grown rather angry at the dubbing of ancient artifacts trinkets. In fact, he looked at her in time to see her stomp her foot on the ground. Her tail lashing out angrily as she showed off her anger and annoyance with the way he spoke of the artifacts she had spent all that time searching for.
“I am aware of the Dragon Balls. The Red Ribbon Army had files on them. They were mystical objects of unknown origin, created by unknown means, with the ability to grant those who gathered all seven one perfect wish. Many a man, woman, and army searched for them; the Red Ribbon organization being one of many that did. I am aware of what they could do.” He did not, however, appear to be either impressed by what they could do or care for the dragon balls in general.
When the woman waved off his comments on Doctor Gero and Commander Red, who had founded the Red Ribbon Organization in hopes of not just world domination but to attain the mystical dragon balls for his own ends, he did not appear phased by it. After all, he had been in stasis for fifty years, while this woman appears to have spent, however many years she has spent, hunting down information on the dragon balls and, apparently, the Red Ribbon Army since she knew so much about them.
“This base would not hold anything recent as it has been abandoned for several decades.”
Well, that was some disappointing news. Not only was Piccolo Daimou still alive, but he had reigned over the Earth for some time.Why had the good doctor not sent him out to bring him down before? He could only deduce that Doctor Kringle had felt him not ready, but also he had passed away fifty years ago, apparently from his mechanical heart failing, so he hadn’t gotten the chance to unleash him onto the cruel tyrant.
She pointed a finger at him. It was such an accusatory tone she had taken, jabbing a finger at the cyborg, commenting how he had slept for years while the world around him continue on, time waited for no man and he was included in that description; Piccolo Daimou was still in control, demons and undead ruled sections of the world, and there were no heroes to save the day. Furthermore, she did not believe he was strong enough to do anything to stop any of it. Piccolo Daimou was too strong.
As he stood there listening to it all, his eyes staring blankly into hers, his mind was calculating. Yes, after all she had told him, the chance that he could go outside and march up to Piccolo Daimou’s castle, wherever that was, and fighting the man - demon - and winning, were rather low. But that meant little to him. In fact, it further proved the need for not just him but more heroes to rise up together and bring the cruel tyrant down to his knees.
“If I am not strong enough now, then the only logical step that follows is that I must get stronger,” he commented. It was very simple. If he was not strong enough to take on the Daimou, then he had to strengthen himself for the battle to come. He had to train. He had to upgrade his systems. He had to find allies to band together and crush the demons, drive out the vampires, and send the undead back to their graves.
He turned to look at the corpse for a moment. Humanity was hanging over a fire, dangling from a string the breadth of a wire, and Doctor Kringle had designed him to be the world’s weapon against such odds. But, that had been fifty years ago. He had much work to do if he planned to meet not only Doctor Kringle’s but the world’s expectations.
“The Daimou must not be allowed to continue to rule over the Earth the way he is.” He looked over at her once more. His eyes remained the same. Though his face became somewhat more determined, “If there is no one capable of fending him off now, then I shall gather those that wish to bring him down, and we shall gather the strength necessary to do so. Surrender is never an option.”
It was then that the woman’s face went red. In fact, his scanners detected an abnormal raise in temperature about the face area. Her tone of voice changed, and she sounded particularly annoyed or, perhaps it was embaressment. Either way, she had her hands on her hips, questioning if he was dense.
He had gone to comment, to say that well he was somewhat dense, he was, after all, a cyborg constructed from an amalgamation cybernetic upgrades and organic flesh, but she continued to speak, asking him how he could not have found her beautiful. The visibly annoyed woman questioned if he did not find her to be the most beautiful woman he had laid his eyes upon and then she walked over to him, her tail lashing out. However, it did not strike him; instead, it wrapped around his waist and hips, around his lower back and yanked him in, dragged him across the ground until his chest was pressed up against hers. The softness of her bosom squished up against the firmness of his chest, the odd mix of organic and cybernetic pressed up against her bust.
Did she inspire nothing in his metal heart? That was the question almost visibly distressed woman laid upon him as she pressed her body against his, her breasts pressed up against his chest as they were, what most would call, uncomfortably close together.
After a long awkward moment pregnant with silence, the cyborg opened his lips to speak and answer her question, or at the very least, make a reply to her comments, give his thoughts a voice. His response was short and simple, and also truthful, but possibly not what she had hoped to get as a response, “But, my heart is not made of metal.”
WC: 1,320 CWC: 6,820
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Post by Hebihime on Nov 17, 2019 2:00:40 GMT -8
The woman exhaled sharply in irritation when the cyborg offered up his response to her questions. He was so dense, so oblivious, so unlike other men. It irked the demon greatly, and she shoved the cyborg away before crossing her arms in disgust. "Useless cyborg, stripped of all your human emotions. You're no better than a machine with a different name." What difference did it make between a cyborg and an android if the two behaved the same? Organic, inorganic, man, machine, flesh, metal. It was all the same if their minds lacked that human spark. That mixture of emotions and desires, sins and virtues, that made mankind so fun to tempt and manipulate. Hebihime could not manipulate a machine, seduce it with her visage. She was fast growing tired of this Vidar and his stoicism. Hebihime flicked out her forked tongue repeatedly, it was a sign of agitation and frustration in the serpent woman. "I am well aware this base will not hold anything recent, Vidar." She said the cyborg's name with contempt. "I figured that out myself long before I reawakened you." The last thing she needed was this cyborg telling her things she already knew. Hebihime was growing more frustrated by the moment, and her tail continued to slam against the tile floor hard enough to leave cracks and shake the dust off the tables. She paced around the room in a huff, contemplating if this had all been a great waste of time. There were other islands, other bunkers. Maybe she should have searched one of those instead. She still could, though if Kringle's associates had cared as little for magic as he did, would it even be worth the effort? Vidar spoke up, saying the only logical step for him now was to grow stronger. "Join the club." Hebihime spat back her words venomously. "You're starting to sound like a Saiyan, I don't suppose you were one of them before your experimentations?" She paused, her comment had been a mean spirited joke, but she expected the cyborg to take it literally. He had everything else she'd said thus far. Hebihime said a hand to preemptively silence him. "Don't say a word, I read the files. You're human as can be, even if it didn't mention much beyond that." Stronger. That word echoed in her mind, it was one she could not escape. Stronger, strong enough to return to Other World. Strong enough to usurp her mother. Strong enough to be the new God of Snake Way. She coveted strength, the way a fish covets water. Hebihime shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. This was no time for them. The woman raised an eyebrow at Vidar's rousing speech about gathering allies and defeating the Demon King Piccolo. She scoffed, turning away from him as she spoke. "If it were that easy, someone would have already done so. They tried in the past, there are always heroes and they are always lesser than his might." She chuckled to herself, though her tone quickly became increasingly irritated. "We? WE? There is no 'we', cyborg. There is you, and there is I. And if you don't provide any use to me, then I don't have any use for you." She spelled it out for the cyborg as plain as plain could be. He was a relic of a bygone era, with an empty head filled with useless thoughts. Ignorant, emotionless, pursuing the goals of a dead man. Worst of all he wasn't even worth devouring for all this trouble. His metal body would cause her to vomit him back up. "I am leaving." Hebihime stated simply, as she began to walk her way towards the door to the research lab. "There is nothing in this place for me, and I have no more reason to waste my precious time with this place." She made her way towards the bulkhead door she'd knocked off its mountings, hopping up onto it and nonchalantly continuing towards the exit. "For your sake, I suggest you do the same. This base is a crypt, filled with the failed dreams of broken old men. You are but one of them, another unfinished creation by those before you who wasted their lives. Go rally your heroes Vidar, so you can die trying to fulfill your 'purpose.'" She turned back back one last time, blowing the cyborg a kiss. "And come find me whenever you decide to take down those accursed vampires. I greatly look forward to sending their undead souls off to Hell myself. They are vile, repulsive beings that have no place in this world or the next." With that she left, simple as that. Leaving Vidar standing there all by his lonesome, alone in his big empty lab with no one but his creator's precious corpse. Hebihime began leisurely walking down the main hallway back towards the central lobby of the base. Heeled shoes clicking against metal floors echoing down the otherwise silent halls. Sulking over her lack of anything to show for this endeavor. Maybe she should go back and kill Vidar? She mused to herself. It would certainly make her feel better, and there were surely a buyer for his components somewhere on the black market. Then at least she could afford a relaxing hotel star in a luxury resort for her troubles. Hebihime shook her head. No, it was a waste of time. She needed to redouble her search for arcane treasures. That damnable human mage, Kiryu, had humiliated her. She was a serpent goddess, the Princess of Snake Way. She did not lose to humans, gods did not lose to mortals. That was not the way the universe should be. She clenched her fist, dark ki crackling at her fingertips. Grow stronger. The cyborg's words still ringing in her ears. If only it were it that simple... She shook her head once more, dismissing her thoughts as she continued down the empty halls. It was a long walk back towards the exist, and she had patience to look for another way out.
Word Count: 1,025 | Total Word Count: 6,155 | Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK)
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Post by Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK) on Nov 18, 2019 16:16:10 GMT -8
His response was not, apparently, what she wanted to hear. But, really, what other response could Vidar give? The woman's body, the curves, the soft pressure of her bosom pressed up against his chest, none of it had any real effect on him. His heart did not suddenly begin beating faster, his adrenaline did not begin to flow, and his mind did not begin to concoct filthy scenarios with the woman, lewd images, none of that. In fact, all he could do was stare at her, almost eye to eye, and listen to what she had to say, commenting on him being a useless cyborg that was no better than a machine due to his stoic aloof responses.
"I am capable of feeling and understanding emotions," He did manage to comment to the woman before she continued speaking, saying that everything he was saying was information she had already gathered before she had even awoke him. He could only assume, as he had theorized before, that she had managed to get that information by searching through the good doctor's - now the very dead good doctor's - personal files, which he kept well organized on his personal computer.
If anything could be said about Doctor Kringle, that he was afraid of death, that he despised God for his, her, or It's way of creating humanity so much weaker and defenseless compared to almost every other race - from saiyans to Namekians, all of whom had their natural advantages over humanity - and that he had attempted to defy nature and science by creating a being capable of transcending both nature, science, but God. One could say all of those things, and more, but they couldn't say that the man wasn't thorough. He performed his due diligence and with every file there was an excessive amount of detail.
But, none of those details appeared to matter to Hebihime. In fact, she skipped most of them. Her only desire in that lab was some kind of artifact, any kind really, and this base, with all of its relic computers and its lone cyborg, had none of what she wanted and needed.
She was visibly getting more irritated, she was practically cracking the tile floor with each bash from her heavy muscular tail. The consoles shuddered and dust crumpled off the chairs and tables, scattering to the ground due to each strike of that tail across the ground.
She did, also, correct him. There was no we, there was only, as she put it 'you and I' which were totally separate entities in no way connected in any way. She didn't have to help him and he shouldn't expect help, or that is the message that he could only assume she was attempting to convey. However, as she began to head out, deciding that the lab nor Vidar were of any use to her, she did comment he look her up to help her deal with vampires...
She did not seem to show any desire to do anything about Piccolo Daimou nor aid him in that quest but wanted him to look her up to deal with vampires. He stood there, in silence, as she headed out of the Research and Development lab, watching her back as she left the room, before he turned to face the corpse of his creator once more.
The once great man was dead. His creator had been dead for a long time, his scan told him that. There was no fixing him. There was nothing to bring back. What was there left for Vidar in the empty mausoleum that the entire complex had become? Nothing. The woman was, at least in this aspect, correct.
The computers were, for lack of a better word, worthless. The rusting hulks in the hangar, covered in ten years of dust, were beyond - what was the technical term for it - FUBAR (at least that is how one of the scientists working under Dr. Kringle described things he couldn’t fix, though he never quite explained to him what it meant.) He was the lone relic, the lone artifact, in this empty tomb of worthless junk. Well, not according to her. He too was also junk to her. So why stay? Why stick around in a dusty old base that the rest of the world forgot existed?
After all, he still had a mission. He had a purpose. He was Doctor Kringle’s dream. He was Project: Ragnarok. Furthermore, Piccolo Daimou yet lived. He was strong. According to Hebihime. He was strong enough that multiple attempts by other brave souls to mount up an insurrection ended in failure. There were also other threats to the Earth and humanity to contend with. Such threats included, but were not limited, specifically the vampires, the undead, and whatever other horrors and demons awaited out there awaiting command from their King.
He leaned down. His arms wrapped around the man’s shoulders, hugging the cadaver close so the man’s head rested against the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry I could not be there for your last moments, Doctor.” He spoke to the body, his head lowered somewhat. “But I will fulfill my mission.”He sat the body back up against the chair, stood upright then gave his stasis pod one final peek.
This had been his home for centuries. That pod had been where he dreamt. And now, he would leave it all behind. “Goodbye, Doctor.” He gently pet the man’s shoulder and then began to make his way out of the lab, following after the woman. She had a small head start, but it did not take him long to catch up, or at least to trail at least ten or so feet behind her, walking at a casual pace. It was hard not to notice him there, he didn’t exactly try to hide his presence as he followed her. “There are other exits that are closer than walking all the way back to the hangar…” He spoke up to her.
WC: 1,000 CWC: 7,820
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Post by Hebihime on Nov 18, 2019 19:02:53 GMT -8
Hebihime was still sulking in her own failure at this entire endeavor as she walked. She was in no great rush to leave, what did it matter anyways? It was not as if she had any other promising leads to follow. All her earlier confidence in her own brilliant discovery had vanished, leaving the woman almost visibly deflated as she lamented the injustice of it all. She was the deity, she deserved to find what she was looking for. Piccolo Daimao was nothing more than a Demon Clan Namekian and yet he'd been able to grant himself a wish with the Dragonballs before their destruction. Whereas Hebihime had arrived on this planet centuries after their destruction only to learn her easiest way home had been destroyed before she even arrived. Every time her life reminded her of this fact it stung a little more. The serpentine woman quickly realized she was not alone. She couldn't sense the ki coming from Vidar, the cyborg must have used the same 'infinite energy model' power supply that fueled many of the androids the Red Ribbon Army had created over the centuries. No, she merely heard the footsteps of the cyborg's shoes as they walked along the metal floor. It echoed slightly down the long corridor, and the cyborg couldn't be that far behind her. 'So he's following me...' She mused to herself, clearly Vidar had no better place to be. If he wanted to surprise attack, he could have at any point. It's not like she would have sensed him until he launched a ki blast. She pretended to ignore him, continuing on her walk, neither speeding up nor slowing down. Eventually Vidar spoke up, simply stating he knew other exists beyond the one Hebihime had used. She slowed her pace slightly, turning her head to gaze back at him out the corner of her eye. "Oh?" The woman said, feigning surprise. "I'm listening..." She cared little if he told her out of some misplaced sense of kindness, or if he simply wanted something from her in return. Hebihime was far too self centered to ignore assistance when it was given.
Word Count: 370 | Total Word Count: 6,525 | Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK)
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Post by Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK) on Nov 19, 2019 10:43:51 GMT -8
She was walking ahead of him. Hebihime wasn’t exactly rushing to get out of the place, or at least that is what he noticed. He was able to catch up to the woman fairly quickly. He could only imagine that she was still simmering in a mixture of disappointment and anger at the discovery that her search for this place, this hidden, forgotten, and abandoned base, had come up with no results. Her search bore no fruit. No artifacts were found, no relics of great power. Just a lot of computers that were obsolete, rusted out military equipment, one lone cadaver, and - of course - the “tin man” as she had called him locked away in a stasis pod in a medically induced coma - possibly by the aforementioned cadaver - who had likely been there for decades. That was all she got out of her trip there, for her troubles.
He didn’t actually run up behind her, he didn’t try to get too close. Instead, he walked some distance back, at least ten feet away, and he did so at a casual pace. His hands hung down at his sides, he made no quick moves. He didn’t try to attack her because why would he? Despite her rather crass and rude behavior, she had done nothing to merit being attacked.
In fact, she had done him a great service. She had awoken him from his slumber; he was sure that if she hadn’t done so, he would have remained trapped inside of his containment unit until kingdom come or until the volcano decided to erupt and bury the place under lava - and then he’d either be completely destroyed by the lava, or he would be entombed there, again until kingdom come. Either way, it ended with him trapped in the mausoleum that had once been Doctor Kringle’s personal base.
When he spoke up, the woman slowed then stopped as she turned to face him. Suddenly, he was of use to her. He didn’t really think of it like this, but it was clear from her expression that she seemed grateful that at last he was of use to her, helping her find a way to get out of the place, though he could have just read her facial expressions completely wrong. He had not really spent much time with many people outside of the Doctor, his few associates - each one died one by one as the years wore one - and no one else, so he was still not fully grasping things such as facial expressions and the vast ways they could be interpreted. But, he guessed that is what she was thinking and feeling.
“Yes, the hangar is the longest route from the research and development department. There’s also a secondary exit through the armory.” He spoke plainly, raising a hand to point down a lit passageway; a passageway that had been obscured previously due to the utter lack of lighting in that hall when the power was being routed almost fully to his stasis pod. Now, it was obvious there was an alternate path that could be taken. “That way, past the armory, there should be a secondary entrance. I am sure that I should be able to open the doors as your identification does not appear in the database and any attempts to force your way through will cause the armory to seal itself shut. It was a precaution that Doctor Kringle took in case one of his associates turned rogue,” though he did add at the end of that comment, “or if I did.”
WC: 595 CWC: 8,415
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Post by Hebihime on Nov 21, 2019 10:47:53 GMT -8
Hebihime turned her head, looking down the hallway as Vidar pointed it out. "I see." She simply said in response, she had no points to argue on that matter. If this was closer, then good, it was less hassle. If this was some kind of elaborate ploy, she felt more than strong enough to deal with the freshly awakened cyborg, even if she couldn't directly sense his ki. "I was already intimately familiar with this base's security." She added sharply, thinking back on the numerous terminals that had refused her access. Especially the research lab door, which she'd resigned to simply knocking down as it was the simplest solution. As long as it got her back to the surface without having to do anything annoying, she didn't care where Vidar led her through the empty old base. She was quick to catch onto his words though, 'or if I did...' It made her raise an eyebrow, though she said nothing of it. So the good doctor was not in complete confidence of his creation. Even Frankenstein had silently feared his own monster. What had been the man's reasoning? Did the cyborg retain more autonomy and free will than his android predecessors had? Had he not been programmed with limiters and restraint, as androids often were to keep them from turning on their masters without fear of termination or self destruction? Why had Kringle concerned himself with Vidar potentially going rogue? That thought intrigued the serpent, it meant there were facets of Vidar beyond his creator's control. Flaws, defects, vices, whatever it may be, that made him potentially volatile and unpredictable to his creator. Despite his stoic nature, there was apparently a rebellious aspect somewhere deep inside him. Something his creators had built contingency plans around, and something she could look to exploit once she had found it. "Very well then. Lead the way, Vidar." Hebihime said, slowing down to let the cyborg take the lead. She used his name, intentionally this time. She was trying to coax the cyborg into a sense of trust. Though her tone was still harsh, and her tail still swung in an agitated fashion as she walked at his side. The base remained in an expected condition, with all boxes of supplies scattered around wherever they had last been left. Everything coated in a thick layer of dust. Nothing lived within the old base, not even rats scurried about, any food had been eaten decades ago or was still sealed away in containers wherever the kitchen may be. Just the sounds of two sets of footsteps walking along metal tiles and the hum of industrial fans that had slowly continued to circulate air for decades without pause. Lights flickered on and off, the bases's power supply clearly struggling to maintain even this emergency mode. Generators likely damaged from years of negligence, power generation likely to give out completely sometime in the near future. That was the folley of mankind, nothing they could build was ever built to last. The two made their way to the aforementioned armory, after traveling through the main complex of the subterranean base. A huge steel bulkhead stood before them. Large enough to drive a tank through with ease, Hebihime could only wonder what manner of toys the Red Ribbon defectors had kept for their own self defense. In the past, their progenitor group had relied heavily on combat robots, armored battle suits, and good old fashioned tanks and aircraft to get their job done. Some of their robots could even tangle with low power level martial artists, though they were easily shredded by stronger ones. That changing philosophy was what had led them to shift away from conventional vehicles towards androids. Both drain type and infinite energy type had their own distinct advantages towards fighting ki users, and sought to outlast their opponents through sheer attrition. Hebihime was still slightly lost in thought reflecting of all this, thinking how the lessons of the past may have been applied to Vidar by his creators. "Go on then..." She commanded him simply, seeing it was obvious the massive door would not budge without correct clearance codes. "Hopefully the system still recognizes you. Otherwise you will have wasted my time for a second time today..."
Word Count: 720 | Total Word Count: 7,245 | Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK)
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Post by Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK) on Nov 22, 2019 0:10:26 GMT -8
Her facial expressions told a lot about the woman. She appeared perplexed, or so he guessed, when he mentioned that the good doctor had built contingencies on the off-chance that his own creation would turn on him. Possibly surprised that Doctor Kringle had such thoughts about his own creation, “Doctor Kringle was always a suspicious individual. He barely trusted the scientists he worked with here. He barely trusted Gero while he was still a part of the Red Ribbon Army," Vidar commented, as if he were attempting to dispel any misgivings or generalizations the woman could be calculating within the depths of her mind. He was sure that perhaps she had thought him untrustworthy if even his own creator had a hint of trust issues when it came to Vidar.
However, he was sure - from their previous interactions - that she would either find no solace in that information or just find no interest in it. So, when told to go ahead and lead the way, he walked ahead.
She had used his name. She had not called him Tin Man. She had used Vidar. Why is that? He thought it over for a moment, but could not come up with any reasons for it. Perhaps, and this was a theory, she had decided to show a tiny glimmer of appreciation for the fact that he could get her out of the hidden and forgotten base all the faster? After all, the walk to the hangar was a long one; Vidar knew that, he had walked the halls of the base many times. That had to be it.
He walked past her, never once attempting to raise his hand to her or act in any way that was aggressive toward her. He had no reason to. She had helped him out of his stasis pod, now he would help her out of the base.
The hall they were walking down was being lit by flickering lights. Sure, the power had returned to the rest of the base, but after so many years of supplying power to the stasis pod instead, the generators were in a terrible state. It also didn't help that more than likely rodents had a field day in the walls, in the wiring, and more than likely, sooner or later, the whole place would go dark.
In fact, that was a very big possibility. As he led her down the hall, his scanners were working over time. He peeked up at one of the flickering lights. He could already tell that the light was fluctuating, the feed of power was hiccuping. But he paid it no mind. All that mattered was that the power held on long enough for him to lead her to the armory and through it.
As he walked down the hall, their footfalls echoing loudly on the metal floor - the only obvious sign of any life in the base - all he could do was try to recall his last conversation with the Doctor. But, he could not. Perhaps he had been in stasis too long. He could not drag the memory up. Maybe when he had more time, maybe when they were out of the base, he would try once again to conjure up those memories. He would search his mind for them, search his memory banks for them, but until then, he looked ahead and he saw that the hall up ahead had a sharp turn. Beyond that, he knew that they were going to reach the door of the armory. It was hard to miss. It was immense. One could have driven a Sherman through that doorway.
The door was not just large. It also appeared to be reinforced, fortified, to be able to withstand even a powerful blast. In other words, forcing their way into that armory was something that just was not gonna happen; at least not without exerting enough power and force that could bring the entire base down on their heads. Neither of them wanted nor needed that.
Beside the immense door was another one of the computer consoles. It stood out, the small monitor glowing a dull green.
When Hebihime told him to go ahead, followed by a little quip, he walked up to the console. He didn't react to her words.
IDENTIFICATION REQUIRED appeared in large bold letters on the small monitor. He did not have any form of ID on him. No ID, no keycard, but that was not necessary.
He raised his hand over the console, in particular over a small scanner. A soft red pulse of light emanated from the scanner. It swiped over a barely visible code on the wrist of the cyborg. The red light on the monitor flickered then switched over to green.
IDENTIFICATION ACCEPTED. Welcome PROJECT: RAGNAROK. The words slid across the monitor and the large door groaned before them. The sound of rusted and old gears being forced to move could be heard grating down the hall, but move it did. The door slowly rolled to the side, revealing the interior of the immense armory to them.
As the door slid fully open, the lights within the armory flickered to life, row after row of lights, almost like a domino set. With each new row of lights that came on, they saw deeper into the immense room and saw the plethora of armors, weapons, even tanks held within.
Once the door was fully open, a loud banging groan escaping from the immense vault door as it settled into place, Vidar peered over at the woman over his shoulder, "It appears my identification was still in the system." He then turned and walked through the immense doorway, allowing for Hebi to follow after him as she had told him to lead the way.
Inside the immense armory, he walked past the armors, he walked past the many weapon racks, he walked past the tanks and other weapons of war. They were covered in dust and spiderwebs, rusted relics of the past that should have been sent to a museum.
"I can only hope that the security system was not activated when you got into the base. I doubt it. All power was being routed to my stasis pod. But, we shall know soon enough." He walked ahead of her, his eyes scanning around the room as he moved, as if he were taking extra precautions. "The exit is on the far end of the room. My identification should get the elevator started up again."
WC: 1,085 CWC: 9,500
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Post by Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK) on Apr 23, 2020 14:14:44 GMT -8
A subtle groan emanated from the elevators. The old gears were forced to move, to shift, and turn. The mechanical parts, long forgotten and lacking maintenance, were creaking, groaning, and complaining at being made to move once more, work once more, and within the elevator shaft thick plumes of dust fell, almost audibly, down to the ground floor as each of the large gears began to slowly turn. This in turn caused the elevator to slowly begin to descend. It had been so long since anyone had used that elevator, the interior of the elevator had a musty smell to it, like moth balls, like age, dust and forgotten passengers from so long ago.
But, it was working. Vidar could hear the elevator moving, slowly but surely, down the shaft and toward the floor at which they were both waiting. It would take a few moments, he could imagine, but all that mattered was that the power was still working in this part of the lab. At least, there was enough power to run that one elevator, the emergency escape elevator.
"Once it arrives, you can take it up to the top," Vidar commented to the woman who did not appear eager to respond. She wanted out. That's all Hebihime cared about at the moment. She wanted out of that lab, filled with nothing but dust, cobwebs, a dead body of a cyborg scientist, and a - now awake - cyborg with a fancy title, or at least that is what her expression appeared to convey to the blonde man.
He peered over at her and then turned to look at the room that sprawled out behind them. It was cavernous, high ceilings, nondescript metal walls, blank walls, and a metal floor. There were so many machines there. They were antiquated, old, outdated, covered in dust, and some of them were beginning to show signs of rust.
The lab had really been forgotten, lost to time, once all of the scientists were gone. There was no one left but Vidar. He had nothing left in the lab, no reason to stay anymore.
"What do you plan on doing once you get out?" Vidar questioned, "Do you plan on continuing to search for other artifacts?" He peered over at the woman. She, for a moment, did not appear to want to answer. But, after a few seconds of silent deliberation she gave the only response she had the care to give, a simple shrug.
That was really the only answer that was necessary. She did not know, or at least Vidar assumed that is what the shrug was attempting to imply; she could do anything out there. She was from this world, from this time. He was not. He was some fossil that she had found and awoken.
What was there for him out there that he did not have in here? Well, he did have his mission; despite Doctor Kringle passing away, Vidar still had the scientist's mission to uphold to the very end. He had to protect the Earth and her peoples from any and all threats, especially Piccolo Daimou.
"I know you don't believe in what I am going to do. You said so yourself," Vidar commented, turning to face her, "But, no matter, I have a duty to uphold. Not just for Doctor Kringle, or the other scientists; but for me." He looked at the large doors of the elevator. A soft ding had emanated from the elevator and slowly, with a visible shudder, the doors began to slide open, revealing the interior of the elevator to them both.
"Good luck out there, Hebihime. I'll follow along behind you. I must make sure that nothing of import was left behind by Doctor Kringle." Vidar nodded to the woman as she climbed aboard, all too eager to get out of the place, with or without the sappy robot that had dreams and aspirations of heroism.
Once she was on, the elevator doors began to slide shut, to carry her onward and upward and out of the subterrenean lab. While she ascended, Vidar turned away from the elevators and began to cross the room. He was going to do one final thing before leaving the lab; he was going to download the entire data base into his HUD; he was sure that Doctor Kringle had left behind numerous other hidden labs around the world that Vidar could use to upgrade himself. All the cyborg had to do was find the information.
WC: 750 TWC: 10,250
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