((Please, good readers. Accept my apologies for not posting anything in the past two years. I have been distracted by life and all its frailties. Accept the offering of a redux, a redeemed story feature more than just three animes and perhaps more than one original character of mine.))
((I hope you enjoy a story, a journey, through the horrible minds of out friends, enemies, and allies.))
((I don't own the animes in this story, I only write about them. Have fun.))
Something Wicked This Way Comes
Chapter One: What is Fear?
Footsteps, all I hear are footsteps. They echo, they haunt. They torment, they torture. Footsteps into a past that I remember not, footsteps into a future that I wish not to foresee. Or am I dreaming. It matters not; the chains of my mind don't let me travel beyond these images that I see. How long have I watched, how long have I viewed these scenes. How many years, days, months? All this time and I feel no more happiness, no more joy. It has stolen my hope, it has taken my dreams. It has shattered my mind, shattered my sanity. Now all I see is one scene, one nightmare, one horror. My time is short, the chains grow tight. I can feel the dream coming; I can taste my own fear. I can hear it returning; I can hear it laughing. My god, release me of this torture. Make this night, day, afternoon, or evening my last….
-What do ye fear…-
Save me…..
"Bearing point one, one, five, two. Destination fixed, commencing ascent to atmospheric orbit." The computer of a blasted bucket of junk drones off in the background as a lone figure sleeps in the captain's chair. It has been a long journey; plagued by dreams of their last world the crew has slept little. Least of all their captain, the one now snoring lazily as if nothing had ever happened. What lies within the mind of this cold hearted fiend? What lies inside the mind of this scarred warrior that now leads a band of moronic saviors across the universe, a band that saves planet after planet from evil? One may never, but one may indeed find out.
The drone of the computer carries on as the snores escalate and die in between the silent dreams of this sleeping berserker. Dreams of home float through his mind, dreams of family –if that exists for him-, and dreams of adventures. Clouds float past him as he rides through clear skies upon a hidden mount. He could look down, but what if he fell? He would not think about it, for the moment, he will only think about what passes through his mind in this dream. Is it a dream? How does he know? Perhaps, because he remembers the ship he captains. Perhaps, because he remembers the crew he leads. Still the warrior troubles not his dreams with these thoughts; he does not want to awake to whatever dreadful pleasantries await him in the waking world.
Still he dreams, floating anomalies pass by in silent flight. Swans with no eyes, islands with tendrils of colours that search for unknown treasures below, and a white mask with no eyes. Wait, the mask does not simply pass him by. It lingers, it watches, it waits. The eyeless anomaly watches him, a sense of curiosity and innocence comes off of the strange thing. What does it want? That's what the warrior is thinking at this moment in time, why does it look at him so. Then it comes, a voice that sounds sweet like sugar and yet holds a hint of bitterness only known in those who have lied chronically. The voice is not spoken, instead words are formed within the dreamers mind, and the emotions come with them.
What is fear?
The warrior stays quiet, some part of him tells him it is all a dream. There is no talking mask; there is no need to answer this trivial being. The bitterness and sweetness of the words nag at his mind though, they taunt his thoughts and play with the images in his dreaming state.
What is fear?
Again the words come, silent yet loud; only in a dream this is possible. Will he respond? Or will he stay silent until the mask passes by him in silent flight? It seems the voice in his mind is silent, he should answer it. He does answer it, in the form of spoken words, if one can truly speak within a dream, "Fear is a mind killer."
Fear, mind killer.
It is like talking to a small child, he realizes, one that does not know more words than a simple vocabulary of words. He responds in kind, simple words so as not to confuse the illusion of this dream, "Yes. It kills the senses, the heart." The warrior waits, if the mask passes him by perhaps he shall awake and dismiss this as sleep deprivation and hallucinations of his mind. The mask does not seem to think the same.
What… do ye fear?
This is a question that could be asked by anyone. But this also sends the mental guards of the warrior shivering. "I fear nothing." The warrior speaks plainly and forcefully, he does not wish this pleasant state to turn into something that will disturb his sleep. "Nothing can kill my mind."
What do ye fear?
The words come more forcefully this time, it seems to surprise the warrior, or take him by surprise. "I. Fear. Nothing." He stresses this thought so much so that it causes his mind to loose hold of his floating self. Feeling himself become unbalanced upon his invisible steed the warrior reaches down for a handhold and feels a familiar and somewhat hair raising sensation at his finger tips. In shock his hands let go and he begins to fall, his eyes moving downwards and growing increasingly large as he gazes upon a tattered and hard surface of red scales.
His eyes widen, a sensation not often felt runs down his spines and through his legs as they let go of the ridged spine and red scales. The length of this mount begins to fluctuate and move as he falls further towards the useable bottom of this dreamscape. The warrior looks around as the shivers climb back up his body and into his arms rippling his flesh like still water disturbed by a tossed stone. His eyes climb back to the white mask, he notices a change. There are two black holes where the eyes should have been, two dark pits that lead into a void. He finds it hard to pull his gaze away, the holes seem to draw him inwards. But the feel of the scaled back leaving his grip pulls him away with a yell from his throat, "I FEAR NOTHING!"
Something touches his shoulder and jolts the warrior awake; a hand immediately reaches for the sword at his side. But a voice, familiar in tone and softness reaches his ears, "Whoa, dude. No need to worry. Your good… just a bad dream I guess." The hand releases the captain's shoulder and footsteps echo away from him towards the co-pilot seat a couple feet to the right of the captain's chair.
"I was not having a bad dream, maggot." The warrior rubs the palm of his right hand across his forehead. He had been sweating, damnit he did not have nightmares. He fears nothing.
"Settle down, tough guy." The other man in the cockpit laughs, his voice crisp and young. Yet to be broken by his battle hardened captain. "I woke you up for a reason though, were in low orbit over our destination. The ship is just taking scans of the civilization right now." Shifting behind the captain, the young adventurer takes his station and starts keying away at a console nearby.
Sighing heavily, and grunting a response, the warrior looks to his right at a computer screen that shows the data flowing in. "Do we know what we're after?" he doesn't add an insult, mayhap because of the dream or the fact that he will add it later. When silence follows he yells backwards, "Answer me, maggot!"
"Pushy as always, we don't know. Command got a random tip of some strange activity and paranormal readings. All we are required to do is investigate." The co-pilot sits back in his seat, the yellow flashing lights that indicate Low-Orbit Mode glancing off of his fair features and blue hair. "Other than that, we need to be careful. It may be dangerous down there…"
