Things had been weird in Shuggazoom City. Which in a backwards kind of way actually meant things were perfectly normal, because by definition Shuggazoom was a weird place. Within the last month, there'd been a zombie apocalypse equivalent (with wraiths, which were worse, because you weren't even safe in the air), genocidal robobugs from the future, and an insane museum curator with great-great-great-great-granddaddy issues. Really, the only thing that offset the recent strangeness from the norm was that none of it had been the work of Skeleton King.
…directly. The Skull Sorceress turning the citizens into undead wraiths had technically been done in his name, but he hadn't actually had a hand in it.
What it all boiled down to (specifically the museum escapade) was Antauri insisting on a few more group training sessions to keep them all on their game. Which was perfectly fine with Chiro.
"Get ready to have your minds blown, guys," he said, watching the combat pillars rise from the ground. The Team stood fanned out behind him in O-Formation. "I've got some new moves I've been wanting to show ya!"
The pillars reached their full height, and in the moment of stillness preceding the weapons activating, Chiro chanced a grin back at his team.
"Check this out!"
The guns began firing, and the Team scattered.
A missile rocketed towards Chiro, which he avoided with a backflip and a flourish. The missile twisted in the air and circled back to him. So Otto did get those new self-locking missiles operational. Impressive. Granted, it wouldn't help it much. Chiro stood his ground, the missile still advancing, then at the last possible second directed his hands at the floor and yelled, "Monkey Fu!"
The blast propelled him upwards. The missile sailed beneath him, then hit the back wall and detonated. Thank you, inertia!
The ensuing explosion knocked Chiro (still airborne) forward a little, but with a small tuck and roll he still managed a perfectly solid landing. He bounced back to his feet grinning.
"Pretty cool, huh?"
"Very impressive, Chiro," Antauri said from behind him. Chiro turned to face him, and became abruptly aware of a plasma blast speeding towards his head. It wasn't until it stopped just centimeters from his face that Chiro noticed his second in command had one of his ghost claws extended towards him. Antauri went on, "But remember to stay focused."
"I was totally focused!" Chiro insisted, sulking slightly. Being told "stay focused" by Antauri was essentially longhand for 'stop showing off.' And he hadn't been showing off.
…well okay, maybe a little, but still. He'd been plenty "focused" while he did it.
Antauri made a sweeping gesture with his outstretched arm, like he was pitching a ball, and the blast he still held telepathically was sent hurtling across the training room. It careened into a second blast also heading towards them, and both exploded on impact. Antauri leapt into the air, flipping as he did so, and as he righted himself he remained suspended. Both claws outstretched now, he shut his eyes in concentration, and the multitude of missiles swirling around the room froze in midair. As he raised his arms, the missiles paths were directed upwards, then released. They all collided, and exploded spectacularly above all their heads.
Sprx landed next to a pouting Chiro, snickering. "Way to set an example for the kid, Antauri."
"Better than any you're giving him," Nova cut in, bouncing in and out of view as she dodged rapid-fire blasts from one of the guns.
The pout slid off Chiro's face and over to Sprx's. Chiro politely hid his amusement by putting his fist in front of his mouth and looking away.
"Antauri does have a point though, Chiro," Gibson called from above, drawing their attention upwards. With twin flicks of his wrists, lasers were shot from his drills and sliced into several of the guns targeting him. He continued, "Function takes precedence over form when in the midst of battle; if performing the move is going to detract from your awareness, it's best not to do it."
Chiro's pout was back. "I know that!" he said, now falling into step beside Sprx as they moved to take down one of the larger blasters.
"I'm sure," said Gibson dryly, shooting down two more guns. "Still, you must be sure to pay attention to what's going on around yo—"
Gibson suddenly cried out as a shot from behind hit his rocket pack, sending him spiraling toward the ground.
Before Chiro could move to catch him, Otto was already there, plucking Gibson out of freefall like a benevolent green hawk. With one quick motion, a saw went flying, took out the offending laser, then retracted on its chain back to the end of Otto's arm. Sprx was openly laughing by the time Otto landed next to them and placed Gibson on his feet.
"What was that about 'paying attention,' Brainstrain?" he asked between breaths.
"You okay, Gibson?" Otto asked in the meantime.
"Hypocrites!" Chiro cried (the fact that he was also laughing did not negate his point in the slightest). "You're all hypocrites!"
Gibson grumbled something indistinct and glared in the opposite direction.
Chiro's smile had taken up full residence on his face, and glancing around he saw that Nova and Antauri where standing nearby.
"Hey Team," he called. "Whaddya say we wrap this up?"
Gibson stopped glaring and stood at attention. Antauri and Nova moved in closer to the group. Otto and Sprx gave grins to match his own.
"Whatever you say Kid," Sprx said as he and the rest of the Team fell into position.
Chiro's smile widened. "Hyperforce, GO!"
Sprx and Nova took care of any projectiles aiming from above. Otto and (by necessity) Gibson handled those near the ground. Chiro and Antauri handled everything in between.
Needless to say: Training Simulator – 0, Hyperforce – A Lot.
Chiro surveyed the smoking wreckage of the training room. It hadn't been a real battle, obviously; just some program that Gibson and Nova had plugged into the system. All the same, Chiro couldn't hold back the little thrill of accomplishment that spiked in his chest. The Team had won, and they'd won by a lot.
Otto was glancing around too. "Yeesh, I'm gonna be workin' on repairs for days."
Sprx smiled apologetically and nudged the mechanic's shoulder. "Heh, sorry about that big guy."
"Nah, don't be," Otto said, smiling himself now. "That just means we did good, right?"
"Indeed," Antauri said, reverting back to his floating lotus position now that the simulation was over. "Everyone did very well."
"Yeah, right up until Brainstrain got bullseye'd right in the rocket pack," Sprx said, his smile heavily tilting towards a smirk now.
Gibson sputtered. "Well if I hadn't been trying to explain things to all of you—"
"I thought you were just talkin' to Chiro?" Otto cut in, head tilted in confusion.
"Yeah, he was. What was it now? 'Pay attention to what's going on around you'? And then BOOM zap!"
"Oh honestly Sprx—"
"Actually I think it was more of a psshew! ZZZZTT than a 'BOOM zap!'"
"Otto—"
"Okay maybe the 'psshew!' part is closer, but 'ZZZZTT' is basically a 'zap!' so my point stands."
"I dunno," Nova said (Gibson groaned). "When I hear zap! I think more of a 'BZZZZ' than a 'ZZZZTT.'"
"What's the difference besides you saying 'BZZZZ' at a slightly higher pitch?"
"The slightly higher pitch, you dork."
"Whatever, 'BZZZZ' is still pretty much the same thing. Still counts."
Chiro, who'd been happily listening to his Team banter, suddenly felt something twitch just beyond the border of his senses.
He faltered where he stood, not understanding what it was he'd just felt. It'd only been for a second, so quick in fact that he wasn't completely sure that "it" had been real at all. He looked around surreptitiously at his team, trying to see if they'd noticed anything too. Specifically, he looked at Antauri. The rest of the team was still chatting away with each other, apparently (or at least outwardly) none the wiser. Antauri was quiet, his expression neutral, with his head tilted slightly to the side as though considering something.
But then, that wasn't exactly out of character for Antauri, was it? It wasn't uncommon for him to remain quiet during casual group discussions, and he was practically always considering something…
Chiro brushed it off, and resumed listening to his teammates (Gibson had finally been dragged in, and was now debating whether or not "NNAAZZT" was a viable sound at all, let alone a subcategory of zap!). If it was important, Antauri would've noticed it. And if Antauri had noticed it, he would've said something. It was probably nothing.
The outskirts of Shuggazoom were essentially barren, save for some stone outcroppings jutting up from the ground. It was a bit too open for anyone hoping to hide themselves; the Zone of Wasted Years was much better suited for that kind of thing. But the Zone was too far away for Mandarin's needs, and nobody from the city ever really ventured out past its borders anyway. There wasn't much point in stationing himself all the way out there, at least not as far as he could reason.
He had been stationed in the city, but… apparently they'd developed a completely intolerable bug problem. A huge, robotic, man-eating bug problem. Supposedly, the issue had been resolved (by pure, perfect, blessed Hyperforce), but he was still keeping well away from the city for the time being. For his own physical well-being, if nothing else.
(To say nothing of his emotional well-being; he'd been on the wrong side of "man-eating" once already, and his nerves were still sufficiently frayed from the experience, thank you.)
Practically speaking, the outskirts offered much more room and privacy. He didn't have to worry about meddlesome citizens poking their noses into his hiding place, and he had more space to "practice." Which was advantageous, because he really needed the practice.
Currently, he could be found slowly pushing himself back into a standing position, grumbling venomously. When he'd first found the amulet on the ground, his head had spun with devious possibilities. When he'd tried to actually use it, however, it became clear that brainstorming and practical application were two completely separate things. His attempt at transforming a nearby boulder had resulted in him being blasted several feet away from his target, smashing into one of the nearby outcrops, then finally falling several feet back to the ground. The degree to which he'd failed was irritating enough, but the part that had him gnashing his teeth was that it was the fifth time he'd done that.
Magic was difficult to master on its own ("needlessly complicated" was the bitter thought that kept bouncing through his mind); it was made that much more difficult when it had to work in conjunction with an unwilling participant.
"Mandarin!" hissed a scathing voice from within the amulet. Speak of the devil. "Free me this instant!"
Mandarin shook himself off, pointedly ignored how sore he was becoming, and snarled, "Be silent, witch!" She'd been at it since he'd picked up her amulet, and quite frankly he wasn't in the mood to deal with it any more.
He had arrived on Shuggazoom several days before the Hyperforce had, though how he'd managed that he couldn't quite work out. They'd had a fully-functioning ship whereas he'd been piloting the ramshackle remains of a droid; one would think they'd have easily outstripped him. But they hadn't, for whatever reason, so after hiding his Master's skull Mandarin had snuck into the city to try to gauge how well the Hyperforce had left it protected in their absence.
Not very well, apparently, considering it was swarming with wraiths when he got there.
As things went, they Hyperforce eventually returned and disposed of the threat. He'd gotten to witness chunks of the battle firsthand, and he'd readily admit he'd groaned in disappointment when it became apparent the Team had won. He'd found the amulet shortly after their victory, however, which was quite unlike his typical luck.
Granted, it also contained the witch, which was more in-keeping with his usual kind of luck.
"This plan is doomed to fail, simian!"
Yet another oh-so-charming thing about his new… "partner"? "Colleague"? Whatever – when she wasn't making useless demands to be released, she was deriding every aspect of his plan she could possibly think of. Mandarin had never been much of a proponent for positive thinking, but he'd heard enough about energies and mindsets to know that the witch's backtalk didn't bode well.
He turned the amulet to stare into the darkened gem fastened on the front. The witch's face was reflected within, glaring at him defiantly. He gave her a scowl to match.
"What aspect of 'silent' is lost on you, woman?" he growled.
A few hours ago, that might have sent her into a bout of outraged shrieking. Currently, all she did was roll her eyes disdainfully. He liked to imagine he was wearing her down. "What aspect of magic is lost on you, monkey? I've seen children with more control!"
As Mandarin bristled, she went on, "You're a disgrace for wasting time on petty personal revenges. You ought to be working to resurrect the master. We both should. And yet you hold me here to implement a plan that has failure built into its very core. I can only imagine how disgusted Skeleton King would be with you if he could see this."
Mandarin's hand was shaking from how tightly he gripped the amulet. Would the witch feel it if the amulet was shattered while she was still inside? He'd watched it reform after being broken once already; surely it couldn't hurt to try…
"You know nothing, witch," he spat. "Did you ever stop to consider that I'm doing the Master a favor? By eliminating the Hyperforce, the Master will have a clear path. He can do whatever he pleases without interruption. Less energy will be wasted trying to deal with them. If anything, he'd be disgusted with you for not taking the opportunity to rid him of his foes when you had the chance."
The look of disdain melted off Valina's face, and morphed back to the look of rage she'd been frequenting previously. The amulet emitted a small shock, which startled Mandarin enough that he very nearly dropped it. It wasn't bad, really, no worse than a static shock from a door knob, but the fact that the witch could exercise even a little of her will from within the amulet was a cause of concern in his book.
"Do not presume to tell me how our Master would feel about my actions," she snarled, low and quiet and with far too much genuine threat than she ought to be capable of, given her position. "The Master's well-being takes first priority over everything. If his enemies can be disposed of in the process of assuring that, fine, but never try to put the one before the other. Never take the risk that you might be dispatched before you can secure the Master's position." She eyed him with disgust, sneering, "Your inability to process that exposes you for the second-rate servant you are."
Mandarin couldn't think of what to say for a moment. Just a moment, mind you, it was a rare occasion he was lost for words completely. But sometimes emotions (rage, in this case) made thinking of coherent retorts difficult.
"What, pray tell," he finally forced out, "makes you so sure that I'll be 'dispatched'? What makes you think that the Hyperforce will possess the ability to fight past their own greatest fears and weaknesses to get close enough? Please, witch, inform me."
Valina slipped her disdainful mask back on, though this one was perhaps a bit colder than the last. "For starters, your ability to render them in such a state seems to be slightly lacking." Her gaze slipped over his shoulder to the rock he'd just smashed into. "Unless of course your plan is to stand with your back to them and use yourself as a projectile. I'll admit, the sight will probably give them pause for a moment, but I severely doubt it'll qualify as any of their 'greatest fears' or 'weaknesses'."
Mandarin, being dead, had blessedly lost the ability to have blood rush to his face, so there were no outward signs of what he was feeling. There was still a hot, uncomfortable lump coiling in his stomach and chest, though.
"Well perhaps if you would just cooperate—"
She cut him off with a smile that was utterly lacking in mirth and said, "I've been given no reason to."
Mandarin glared at her poisonously for a few sustained seconds, shaking, but rather than respond, he took a deep breath, let the amulet fall back to his chest, and stomped back over to the boulder he'd been working on. He had plenty of retorts he wanted to give her that time, but none of them were things he could say in polite company (most of them regarding what she could do with and/or to herself). And he couldn't stomach the thought of the witch having evidence of how far past his wit's end she'd dragged him.
A part of him, the sore, tired, frustrated part, weighed the option of doing as she asked and releasing her, then working to resurrect the Master. He'd have to do it eventually anyway, and he was getting virtually nowhere with his current plan. He forcefully told that part of himself all the things he'd wanted to say to Valina. She'd made a point to be as difficult as possible to work with; he'd follow her lead, and prove her wrong in the meantime.
…moreover, the fact that he hadn't immediately released her had left the witch rather… incensed. He very much doubted she'd let that little slight go unpunished, even if he were to get down on his knees and tell her she'd been right all along and he was sorry (which, for the record, he had no intention of ever doing). And – loathe as he was to admit it – the thought of what she'd do to him should she get the chance wasn't something he liked to dwell on. He refused to attach the word "afraid" to the thought, but… still… if he absolutely had to pick an adjective…
He shook his head. It wasn't anything he had to worry about right now. The witch was securely trapped within her amulet; she couldn't hurt him from there. What he needed to do at present was pin down how this magical mess worked.
With that, he widened his stance a bit, once again took hold of the amulet, and took aim at the boulder. He managed to hold the mauve beam steady for a full three seconds before losing control again. The flow of magic abruptly increased beyond what he could control, and he was once again blown off his feet. He landed in a heap, and heard Valina cackling through the ringing in his ears.
Gyrus Krinkle knelt alone in the middle of a deserted cityscape, alone save for the large piece of machinery with which he was currently tinkering. As he tightened a bolt, he reflected on how escaping from one's own mindscape was both very simple and yet excruciatingly complicated all at the same time.
Krinklezoom – the lovely, wondrous utopia he'd built up from the ashes of his own misery – had been torn down to its foundations by the Hyperforce's attack. All that remained were ruins that would occasionally flicker in and out of reality, distorting and twisting as they went. There weren't any citizens left either. All his fans and admirers were gone. He didn't know where to.
The Neuro-Matter Reconfignatron had malfunctioned, that much was obvious. The machine was designed to convert matter into thought-waves, but it needed something to direct it to do so. The closest comparison he could think of would be a computer needing a program to run. With the port implanted in the back of his head, he'd been able to connect to the machine and use his own mind as the make-shift program. So when the Hyperforce – turncoats, backstabbers, traitors – had attacked the fissures caused by undue stress in his mindscape, the Reconfignatron's directive must have gotten scrambled. Instead of converting the matter his mind told it to convert, it had tried to convert his mind itself, and then absorbed his physical body when it wasn't able to.
That was the best he could figure, anyway. It would explain why he wasn't able to leave his mindscape anymore, at least. Either that or his body was just lying comatose somewhere…
He kind of hoped it was. He hoped his body was in some hospital – a real hospital, not the health station at Ranger 7 – hooked up to all sorts of life support. Somewhere the Hyperforce could see it. Somewhere they could cry and snivel and sob over it, "If only we'd just let him be on the Team! He'd only ever had the best intentions! What have we done, what have we done—?!"
Gyrus wasn't sure what upset him more: the Team's treachery, or the loss of his paradise. The destruction of Krinklezoom meant there was nowhere left for him to hide. He'd be forced to go back out into the "real world" and endure the rampant idiocy and small-mindedness of his species. On the other hand, the reason Krinklezoom was even lost in the first place was because of the Monkey Team's betrayal. The same Monkey Team who he'd dedicated his entire life to. Who he'd always looked up to and supported to the best of his ability. Who he'd never asked for anything from, apart from simply wanting to be their teammate.
He cranked his wrench much harder than he had previously.
Whether his body had or hadn't been absorbed into the Neuro-Matter Reconfignatron wasn't really his concern. His consciousness was trapped in the last crumbling vestiges of the mindscape he'd created, so his first priority was getting his consciousness back out. And the best way he could think to do that was to retrace his steps. He'd been brought here by a machine that transformed matter into thought-waves, so to leave he'd need a machine that could transform thought-waves into matter. If his body had been absorbed by the machine, then this machine ought to get it to spit it back out. If it hadn't, all he had to do was make sure the new machine had a frequency matching the old one, and the import in his head should ensure that his mind was returned to its proper place.
Gyrus set his wrench on the ground and began fiddling with some wiring. The new Matter-Neuro Reconfignatron was almost identical to the Neuro-Matter, but where the Neuro-Matter had a colorful assortment of lights that flashed during activation, the Matter-Neuro only had white. He reached back down to his wrench, but when he raised it back up it had become a screwdriver. He tightened a few screws in the back, then after a moment resumed working on bolts with what was now a wrench again.
Whatever else this wasteland had become, it was still his world, and it still bent and shaped itself in accordance to his desires. If he needed a part, all he had to do was think of it and it would appear. Granted, the effect it wasn't as instantaneous as it had been. Now it took several seconds for the changes to take effect, and he had to really focus to get things how he wanted them. Most irritatingly, he apparently could only do things in small bursts. He'd tried to create the Matter-Neuro already completed and ready to use, but he'd gotten a horrible pain in the back of his head and the world around him had fizzled and blurred. It was only for a second, but it was enough to put him off trying it again. Instead he had to think it up part by part, and then put those parts together one at a time.
He bumped a wire and jumped at the shock it gave him, snarling. The worst part of it was that things were slowly beginning to act how he knew they ought to act, rather than how he wanted them to. Soon this place would be no better than the reality he hated.
To have such a wonderful, pure place perverted in such a way… it almost made him sick.
He set the wrench aside again, and with a heft he lifted a grate from the ground and fitted it onto the hole at the front of the machine. He screwed it into place, then took a step back to look over his work. Everything on its exterior seemed in order, and he knew for a fact that there was nothing wrong with the interior…
Satisfied, Gyrus turned around to take a final look at his ruined dreamland. He regretted it almost immediately, because what he saw broke his heart. He steeled himself and kept looking anyway. Once he left, he'd likely never be able to return. He owed the city this much.
Krinklezoom had once been a vibrant, sparkling place. Now – though the remains were still painted the same eye-catching colors as before – everything seemed gray and desolate. Gyrus could see old man Krinkslapper's burger shop just down the street. Once a lively, bustling trade, it now lay abandoned, the front counter smashed and crumbling. Old man Krinkslapper had had a particular fondness for Gyrus, and had insisted that all his burgers where on the house. "It's the least I can do for Krinklezoom's greatest hero!" he'd said, time and again (he'd always thrown in an extra helping of fries, too). Ma and Pa Krinko's arcade now lay in shambles, the games' screens all cracked and dusty. Ma had always called him "dear" and offered him baked goods whenever she saw him. Pa had told him at least thrice that he thought of him as the son he'd never had. The holographic ice-cream parlor was in pieces, the ice-cream long since melted in its tubs, and the electrical equipment sparking every now and then. With an odd little choke Gyrus realized he'd never get the chance to try their newest flavor. The owner had promised him the first scoop.
He felt cruel, abandoning the city like this, but there was nothing left for him here. It was his job to protect the city, but there wasn't much of a city left to protect. There were no people left to protect, either, nor really anything to protect them from. What was the point of a hero with nothing to save or defend?
He should still say something, he decided. Even if there wasn't anyone left to hear it…
"City of Krinklezoom," he began loudly. "The time has come where your beloved hero must leave you. Take heart in that he will not remember you as the dilapidated wasteland you've become, but as the shining utopia you once were. He—" Gyrus faltered, emotions starting to get the better of him, "—I, will not let your destruction go unpunished. You will be avenged. The perpetrators of this heinous crime will be made to see the error of their ways, and they will forever carry your obliteration as a scar on their souls." He straightened to a noble, commanding posture, and bellowed to the empty mindscape, "Your Hyperforce shall be made to atone for what they've done to you! I, Gyrus Krinkle, rightful leader of the Super Robot Monkey Team, swear it!"
If there had been any citizens left, this is the part where they all would have started cheering. They always cheered at his speeches. He was very good at them. Since there weren't any, however, only silence answered his heroic declaration.
Gyrus spun on his heel and began punching a code into the number pad secured at the front of the machine. It revved a moment, then the lights came on. The arms near the top began swinging slowly before picking up speed. Suddenly all the lights flashed a blinding white, he couldn't move for a second (his body felt strangely heavier somehow), then…
Gyrus opened his eyes to find himself not in a comfortable hospital bed, surrounded by a now relieved and humbled Hyperforce, but on the cold floor of Ranger 7's basement, completely alone.
He'd only been back for three seconds, and reality had already managed to let him down. Typical.
A hole had been slashed in his gut, but there was no blood. What came instead was thick and black and sticky and congealed oddly, forming dozens of tiny globs that writhed around in the wound like maggots. Retching, he jerkily tried to brush them off. Some fell to the ground with tiny splats, but more oozed up to take their place. He could feel them wriggling sluggishly under his skin, making him scratch and squirm. If he were to peel back the skin of the wound he'd see they'd replaced his insides, that all that was left were hundreds of these little worms ready to devour him from the inside out—
The Hyperforce stood silently in a circle around him. They didn't speak, they didn't move, they merely observed.
Don't think about it.
His legs wobbled. The hole hurt. It hurt so bad it threatened to make his knees buckle, and his frenzied attempts rid himself of the black maggots left him feeling shaky and exhausted. He crashed to his knees and, suddenly violently nauseous, vomited all over the ground. It was more of the worms, he could taste them now, and it was so vile he gagged again. Even more splattered to the ground.
He could see the Hyperforce out of the corner of his eye. Their eyes had become blank and unseeing, arms opened wide as they hung suspended above the ground. Their mouths were opened impossibly wide, the screaming, the screaming – Huge insects with long, spindly legs and wormy bodies scuttled out from the darkness and forced their way down their throats – the sounds, the way they choked and gagged—! The Team stretched and got bigger, their hands lengthened to claws, their eyes became hollow, empty holes—
Focus, don't get dragged down, just focus. Stay calm.
He was impossibly dizzy, and when he tried to stand again he stumbled back down. The screaming continued, though he wasn't sure from where anymore. What was left of the Hyperforce had gone silent. He curled into a ball and covered his ears. Too much, too many sounds, panic swelling as much as he tried to keep it down, his own thoughts adding to the cacophony around him—
Stay calm stay calm stay calm—
Claws seized his arm and lifted him into the air. The green formless – no, it was Otto, it was both – held him aloft, staring straight into his eyes with its hollow sockets while the rest closed in around them. The black one – not Antauri, not Antauri – outstretched its arm and wrapped its claws around his torso. With a clench of its fist there was another spurt of black, sticky maggots and a cracking of ribs.
This isn't real it's a lie it's a lie it's a lie —
He did something he'd never done before – not in this place, anyway; blind fear usually prevented him from doing much – He lashed out and drove his foot into the face of the green one.
Something twitched. Something burned. Everything blurred.
He landed hard on his back, and for a single confused second he wondered why they'd dropped him. Then he was hit with an alarming sense of clarity – he hadn't realized how dazed and muddled he'd felt before – and without being told he understood that he was out.
He threw himself into a sitting position and saw an old, dilapidated box sitting in a corner across from him. Its legs lay in crumpled heaps next to it, its crankshaft was motionless at its side, and its horrible painted face stared forward, unseeing.
Hands and feet scrabbled at the ground to get as far away from the godforsaken box as possible. It looked dead right now but what if, what if—
If he went back in, he'd never be coming back out. Of that he was emphatically sure. He'd used up all his energy and willpower to escape this one time. A second attempt was unthinkable.
The way out of… wherever he'd been stashed was long and twisted. It wasn't until after getting hopelessly lost and devolving into a shaking fit that he recognized it as the basement of the cloning factory. And even that did little to help his sense of direction, as he realized that he could only barely remember the factory's layout anyway. Unhelpfully, it also looked radically different when viewed from closer to the ground. He eventually managed to locate a flight of stairs, but the trapdoor at the top obstinately refused to move. Even throwing his full weight against it (which wasn't much anymore, granted) he couldn't get it to budge.
When two more attempts yielded the same results, his shaking resumed and his breathing quickened. The box was still down here with him. It could come around the corner any second now. He could hear – or imagined he could hear – the creaking of its wooden limbs over the pounding of his own heart. It crept closer and closer and closer, coming to recapture him and hold him forever where he could never escape—
Again he threw himself against the trapdoor, and this time when it didn't move he felt something other than blind terror. This time he felt angry. He slammed himself against it again, and then realized how stupid he was being. He retreated a few paces, took a deep breath and closed his eyes (he was still shaking but he didn't care, it didn't matter), and when his eyes flew open again there was a burst of green light and a roaring in his ears.
The trapdoor exploded open with a bang, and a pain in the core of his entire being made stumble and fall back down a few stairs.
The Power Primate… had never done that before.
His back burned from where he'd hit the stairs, and when he staggered upright he had to work to get back the air that had been knocked out of him. He didn't dwell on it, instead focusing on the fact that he could see sky outside the door now. When his shaking limbs' protests of 'we can't go any further' could no longer be ignored, he slumped to the ground, and finally worked to quell his shaking.
He'd made it. He was out. He was free.
Mandarin buried his face in his hands and tried to take deep, even breaths. It was harder than it should have been. For some reason, they kept coming out irregular.
