Broken, destroyed beyond repair, dying…
These were all words that would describe the state of Lab Zero's director; once thought to be untouchable, now pieces of his mechanical body were lying all across what was left of the lab. He didn't know when or how, undoubtedly due to a lack of any sort of reports from his now long dead assistant, and recently discovered traitor, Valentine, but his latest project, Painwheel, had broken his control over her done exactly what she was to prevent. Brain Drain's confidence in his control over her had stopped him from devising some sort of failsafe should she try to claim the Skullheart for himself.
Huge mistake, it seems.
Now he faced his former creation, the newest Skullgirl, a creature hellbent on bringing the lab down to rubble, and burying him with it. Well, "faced" may be a poor choice in words, seeing as many would have already considered him as having lost in his current state. However, his mind still worked, he could still move, and so he continued to devote himself to what has driven his life. What has driven him to do every single monstrous thing he's done within the confines of this twisted room of scrap and destroyed machines, of which he was now one, what has perhaps possessed him, served as a point of violent obsession in the eyes of some. Strenuously, as if the constitution of his body once more consisted of long forgotten muscle and bone, he brought himself to a stand. His mind filled only with destroying every trace of the girl before him, without mercy and without regret. He took a step forward, the inner motor mechanisms letting off unsettling whirring and stalling, almost as if he had once again developed the fear needed for hesitation. Despite this, he moved forward steadily enough, psychic energy too spread out in the blocking of Painwheel's undead to be concentrated into an attack, it had come down to finishing it physically. His one remaining arm extended, a shot forward, spiked fingertips extend and pierce The Heart. With a hellish bellow, he knows that she will fade soon enough.
What he didn't know, or perhaps simply forgot in the panic that he would die before his goal was achieved, was that a dying Skullgirl emits concussive force akin to a small explosion, and he was practically point blank.
When the dust finally settled, whatever was left of Lab 0 was crumbling into the ground, it was fated to die as it was born, buried. Tossed asunder by the blast lie what was left of Brain Drain, little more than half a torso. His dome was badly cracked, his precious brain exposed to the outside as half his vision faded to static. He deduced it was one of his "eyes" breaking that had caused it, some shards of red glass lying of what was left of his chest confirming the suspicion. Regardless, he struggled to rise.
If I can just….get up….I can lock The Heart...lock it in the vault….I can end this!
His body would disagree, sparking wildly from the multitude of broken wires as "-ROR!" and "-NING!" flashed across his vision, soon replaced by "-TEM -LURE!"
No….I just need to lock it away! I...I need to succeed! To end this! No more Skullgirls! I can do this…!
More sparking, errors and system failure notices flashing twice a second, he strained, perhaps there was something of a phantom limb syndrome even now, for he was in agony. Regardless, he managed to force his shoulders off the ground, causing something within to break, no doubt, as he focused on The Skullheart. A weak arc of psychokinetic energy arced to it, and so it began to move. Ever slowly, it crept up and into the vault, the door of which immediately slamming shut. No sooner did it shut did a huge piece of rubble fall from the ceiling and block off the door, effectively keeping the Skullheart locked away. It was to be buried with this lab, deep underground in a vault now only he knew the combination to.
Mission…..accomplished…..now I just need to esca-
His thoughts were cut short when the Lab's power core exploded. A sick sense of déjà vécu went over him as he crashed into a wall, his world going black. He found himself awaking in….a cinema theatre. With his own life playing on the silver screen.
"Damn….I need to get out of here. Not ready to die just yet."
"Why not, Buddy?" Came a fresh, no, a familiar voice. It was bright, cheery, almost young in its sound. No sooner did he hear it did a bright crop of blonde hair, and two horns, burst into the theatre, candy in hands as she leapt into the seat behind him.
He seemed to wave off his old friend as he continued to mumble to himself, preparing to state a force-restart code.
"Hey! Heeeeey! I'm talking to you, Buddy!"
"I'm not listening to you. You're a figment of my imagination cleverly disguised to encourage me to die."
"Rude! How could anyone imagine someone as lively as me?! Huh, Buddy?! I'm too dynamite!"
"Ugh…."
Another voice, another nurse. This one barely spoke over a mumble, making hearing her through her thick leather mask a chore as she stepped in, taking a seat to the left of Patty.
"Honestly….I'm amazed you'd ever think something that...Patty…..would stem from your mind…."
A pause, "Fair enough."
The next voice was husky and thick, fitting the colossal nurse that owned it, but betraying the gentle way she used it, and the affectionate smile towards her fellow nurses, "Can that be taken like it used to?"
He knew what she meant. As a human, "fair enough" always meant "I give up, you win."
"No. He died years ago."
"Do you honestly expect /any/ of us to believe /any/ of that? Come on, I'm actually offended."
"My own mind offended by my own thoughts? I've really put some subconscious into you three, haven't I?"
The fourth voice, sultry and frankly disgusting to him piped next, coming with it his second in command gone traitor, plopping into the seat on his left. "You're really putting some effort into this denial of yours, aren't you?"
"You...I haven't any words for you."
Patty spoke next, "Then what was that sentence, Buddy?!"
Brain Drain heaved a groan of pure exasperation. They certainly wore him down like the original Last Hope.
The ghost of a giggle escaped from Hallow before she would speak. "She has you there, Jonathan…"
"You little-"
"Watch what you say to the girls." Interrupted Easter, prompting a sort of teasing from the others, but it quickly fell silent. Clearly these three weren't leaving, and they obviously had some reason to be here. After another minute, Easter spoke again, voice taking on the sort of tone he hadn't heard in years. The kind heard before he'd even been encased in all this steel and wire, the kind when she called him "friend" with a hint of pride. The sort of voice he heard before he'd ever lost faith in everything but finding The Skullheart. "John...c'mon. Why are you even doing this?"
Patty was next, again speaking in way he hadn't known in so long. It…...hurt. "Come on, Buddy. Don't you think you've done enough? Who else is gonna say they cheated death AND got rid of The Skullheart? Locked and buried away where nobody's ever gonna mess with it again. Isn't that enough, Buddy?"
Hallow spoke, perhaps the loudest she had ever spoken before. "Come back with us, John…."
Valentine spoke last, perhaps least touching of them all. "Afraid of your own mortality, aren't you? You're afraid that humanity isn't gonna welcome you back when you die. You're thinking of everything you've done, and /now/ you want to feel remorse. No, now you're made to feel remorse. You're guilty, despite how much you try and push it away. You're guilty and afraid."
Brain Drain whipped around to look at her, the sudden turn of this little intervention had caught him like a kick in the teeth. He couldn't even formulate the words to say in this situation, if there were any. He was the one in charge of analysing the minds of others, not the other way around. She was right, he was afraid. He wasn't ready to face all he'd done, wasn't ready to face judgement. As scenes of Painwheel's "operation" ran across the screen, the mindset built by the others quickly began to deteriorate, perhaps putting her on the wrong side of everyone in the theatre.
Then came the final member, one that had a loving aura the likes of which he felt right up to her death. It was none other than Christmas. She appeared slowly, taking long, paced strides to him, until she quietly took the seat to his left. She stared up at him, and suddenly the doubts of their existence and fears from Valentine's jabs suddenly went to the very back of his mind. Her hand was warm, he felt warmth again as the metal suit he wore within his own mind fell away in great plates. For the first time since the accident, he was truly himself again.
"Why?" She asked, her voice as….enveloping as he remembered, the voice had broken into a heart long since closed.
"I'm a monster…."
"You are as you've always been. Your name is Jonathan Tucker, you like 'John,' and you're the man who finally ended our long struggle at the cost of his life…." She gave a smile that melted everything he locked away all at once. With fist clenched tight, his emotions flowed freely from his eyes, holding her hand as tight as he could for fear of her slipping away once again and forever.
"John, it's over."
"How could I ever come back with you? With all I've done, what I've become?"
Christmas pursed her lips slightly before speaking, "You truly regret it. Everything you did was paved with the best intentions, wasn't it? Could someone so against humanity really want to save it that badly? You did good, and regret all that you've done wrong. If that isn't good enough, then I'll follow you. Wherever you go."
The film changed scenes. Now projecting what was long before. Of that socially inept man he once was. Scenes of focusing way too hard on painting a figurine, cigarette in mouth and a stack of paperwork that /really/ should have been done a few hours ago. Hours spent arguing with Patty over whether Quicksilver was cooler than Flash. Then one that took a different tone altogether; he had snuck off with Christmas to do a little place he loved to take her at night, a tiny little glen with a self built park bench. He sat with her, foreheads against one another, smiles on faces.
"So why do you do it?" Christmas asked, even on film, the moonlight caught her in a way that simply took his breath away.
"Why do I do what?"
"Stay motivated? They practically beat the everloving crap out of you in that psychic department. Why do you stay?"
"Well, I've got two reasons, the first of which is obviously you."
The actual Christmas leaned against his shoulder, and softly prompted him to keep watching.
"The second?" The Christmas on film asked.
"The second is the cause. I'm willing to do anything for anyone that appreciates the effort, and just about everyone's gonna appreciate the effort behind saving the world. These blue skies, green trees….I wanna keep it that way. I wanna see us together a long time, Christine, I wanna see everyone be with their loved ones a long time, and that's why I do it."
The screen went black, and the lights went up, showcasing the faces of all the nurses, his friends, his saviours. Christmas slowly rose from her seat, keeping her hand held in his. The man once known as Brain Drain gave it a light squeeze, his decision had been made, and he rose from his seat.
"Let's go…."
Meanwhile, in the Lab was a cyborg now filled with souls, finally leaned into a truly relaxed position. A splintered saline transport caused a steady stream to flow from his intact receptor, the light of which finally dimming.
A piece of rubble falls from the ceiling, and the machine's head is completely crushed.