He drifted in the darkness of Castleblanca, pondering to himself about what had happened so many days ago. Every thought of it filled him with hatred; with rage. For a few weeks ago, he had been murdered by the very same one who had murdered him…who had caused him the death he had witnessed.
He knew that now dead, he could no longer feel pain, nor suffering, but he still felt anger and rage. That anger and rage was targeted towards one, and only one, individual: Delete, the recessive robot henchman of the Hacker.
But he didn't just want to kill Delete; oh no, he wanted to kill him and everyone who dared to interfere with him in a "friendly" manner—and that included Buzz, Digit, Matt, Jackie, Inez, and several others he had known before his death. He knew that they too must die, for last time he had realized that the interference with that obnoxious red haired boy deprived him of precious moments until Delete's planned death. But now that he was dead, he could no longer plan on killing them.
He needed someone who would follow his every move…he needed someone who would be able to kill without suspicion…he needed someone whom he could control without much trouble…
He needed someone living…
DEMON FIRE
By Grand High Idol
WARNING: this story is rated R for graphic violence and gore.
It was unusually quiet in the Northern Frontier that day; of course, maybe that was because Hacker was inside his ship, trying to figure out what his next plan to take over cyberspace would be. There was hardly any sound in the air outside, possibly if you ruled out Delete's complaining…
"This is taking too long!" Delete complained as he wiped the excess dust off the taillight of the Grim Wreaker. "We've been working for hours and we've only got half the ship cleaned!"
Buzz, who was working next to him, replied, "Yeah, yeah, I know. It's been hard to clean 'dis thing after Hacker got rid of the cleaning device—" he rolled his eyes—"for obvious reasons."
"It's not fair, though!" Delete whined.
"Well, 'dat's da Boss for yas," Buzz replied boredly, getting sick of listening to Delete complain. He wiped off one of the back windows, then continued, "And you would've gotten a lot more done if you had stopped whining and helped me over here!"
Delete shot a frustrated glare at his older brother and was just about to get back to cleaning the taillight more when Hacker's voice shouted from inside the Wreaker, "Get over here, you dithering duncebuckets!"
The two robots, at hearing their boss's call, immediately stopped what they were doing and bolted inside the ship, to the main room. They stopped in front of Hacker, who was standing in front of his control panel and looking, as always, dead serious and a bit peeved. In his hand was a small mirror; the other held a clear glass square.
"I introduce you, my soft-headed sidekicks, to my latest plan to take over cyberspace!" Hacker announced. He showed them the mirror and the glass. "And the simple plot devices will be these two simple items."
Buzz scratched his head. "I don't get it, Boss," he said. "How's a mirror and a glass square supposed to help take over cyberspace?"
"I was just getting to that!" Hacker snapped at him. Buzz, surprised by the sudden change of mood, quickly backed up as Hacker continued, "I shall now show you just what these two items can do." He held the glass square up to one of the brightly-lit windows. "Observe."
The two androids looked at the square, looks of great curiosity on their faces, as Hacker held the mirror up in front of it. After a few tense seconds the bright light shot through the glass, magnifying it, but only by a little. The light hit the mirror, ricocheted off of its surface, and struck the floor. The two jumped back in surprise as the light flashed for a moment, then dimmed out; when it was done, they saw that the floor had been burnt black where the light had struck it.
"Wow…" Delete seemed greatly impressed.
Hacker lowered the glass square, then said, "You see? The plan is foolproof; we're just going to try it with a larger mirror and a much larger glass square."
"What are we going to do with it though?" Delete asked, still confused.
Hacker glared at him; he looked about ready to strike. "Didn't you see the demonstration, you duncebucket!?" Delete shook with fear, as he always did when Hacker talked like this. "With a larger mirror and a larger square, we're going to use this source of light power to destroy a cybersite with a single strike! We'll wipe them out one by one, starting with…" he thought for a moment, then said, "Castleblanca. That seems like a good spot."
"C-Castleblanca?" Delete asked nervously, remembering what had happened when he went there the last two times, which were much less than pleasant.
"Yes, Castleblanca!" Hacker snapped back at him, obviously annoyed. "You two are going to hold the glass in the right position, while the mirror is set someplace else. Then, as soon as we get a good light—Zap! It's goodbye to the cybersite!"
Delete nervously nodded; Buzz did the same. Hacker looked at them and said, sounding a bit more satisfied than before, "Good, I'm glad that you agree. Now, set the navigator for Castleblanca! I have a cybersite to demolish!"
Delete and Buzz looked at each other, hoping that nothing went wrong there this time…
Within a few moments, the two robots were both standing up, holding the glass square above their heads. Hacker had stationed them somewhere in the outskirts; Buzz was stationed at one tower, Delete was at the one across from him. There was a space between them about seven feet in length; it was higher up than it was long, though…the estimated drop was at least twenty feet or more. The two each had a side of the glass; they had to make sure that they kept a tight grip on it, or else the plan would fail for sure. Buzz kept a tight grip on it, for he knew that if Delete handled something fragile, it was more likely to get broken than remain intact.
It was quite a coincidence, however, that this was the exact area that 'he' hung out in; the darkness served perfectly for his form, and secrecy. He was still burning with anger as he sulked in the area, longing for revenge on the ones who had killed him more than ever now; who had made him nothing more than a form of energy; who had put an end to his plans for death.
His spiritual teeth gritted more intensely and his eyes—now a horrifying blood red—glowed with the rage. He looked up from his dark corner towards the bright moonlit sky—and that's when he saw them. They were standing completely still, holding up a rather large glass square; neither one of them made any sudden movements, let alone speak to each other.
At first he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He shook his head, then looked back up at them. His frown of rage suddenly broke out into a wide, menacing smile. Now was his chance to get revenge…after waiting so long, his wish had been answered, at long last. And the first step in his revenge plan was about to be performed.
He rose himself up without much trouble, being a spirit, of course, then crossed his arms over his chest, closed his gleaming eyes, and vanished, as so not to attract attention to either one of them; if he did, his plot would be ruined. He stopped and hovered at the edge of the tower, about thirty feet from where Delete was standing.
Still grinning menacingly, he opened his eyes, revealing their blood red glow, then threw out his chest and crossed his arms over it, slowly evaporating from the feet up; sooner or later he was nothing more than a black wind. He then slowly crept towards Delete, and sped up, aiming for his head…
Delete and Buzz were still standing, holding the glass square, as the familiar green light of the Grim Wreaker shone upon them. They closed their eyes, to prevent themselves from being blinded, then, when their vision had adjusted, slowly looked up towards the giant black ship. It was quite obvious, of course, that Hacker had arrived to watch his plan take action…either that or he wanted to make sure that neither of them screwed up. Delete and Buzz continued to stare, until finally Buzz shifted the mirror to one hand and, to let him know that everything was going just fine, saluted.
Delete was just about to salute as well when he suddenly felt something strike the back of his head. It didn't feel like a physical blow of any kind, yet the pain was unbearable; it felt like an invisible knife had been stabbed into his head and was slowly driving its way into his circuitry. He couldn't tend to it, however; his hands were both clamped firmly on the fragile glass square. But what could he do? It was horrible already, and was getting worse by the second…
Thinking of only one way to handle it in this particular situation, he strained to resist the urge to tend to it as he held the glass square even tighter. His palms started to sweat vigorously; he could feel it trickling down his fingers and onto the glass. The pain grew more and more intense, and his hands grew shakier, but he continued to keep his grip…he didn't want to screw this one up…in front of his boss, of all people…
The pain only grew worse than it had as he continued to resist. Tears of pain welled up in his eyes and his teeth clenched as he continued to fight the terrible urge. He felt cold sweat trickle down the side of his head as the pain continued to do its work—he wondered if anyone, if human, at the least, could ever resist this stabbing intensity as long as he had now.
He started to shake even more as he threw his head back, still trying to keep his hold. He looked like a pony trying its best to lift something twice its weight. Buzz was looking at him strangely, wondering what was going on with him, but asked no questions and continued to keep his grip as well, glancing up at him every now and then.
Finally, Delete could bear it no longer. Emitting a loud cry of pain and long-suffered agony, he threw his hands up to the back of his neck, clutching it tightly as the tears continued to leak through his closed eyes. However, he had let go of the square at this time, unaware of it due to the pain, and Buzz, who had been startled by the sudden scream, jumped backward, dropping his side as well accidentally.
As Delete continued to rub his sore spot, he heard a horrifyingly loud shattering sound as the glass found its way to the ground. The noise tore him away from the still stinging pain in the back of his head, and he shakily looked over the edge of his side to find that the glass square had been reduced to nothing but a pile of glimmering shards, scattered all over the dusty ground on which they lay. Dust was still rising from the impact that it had made.
Looking down at the shards, it didn't take long for both Buzz and Delete to become horrified. Without the glass, the plan was no doubt ruined; and what was worse, Hacker had witnessed the entire thing from the Wreaker, still overhead. They knew that he would not be at all pleased with them…he would wring their necks (even though Buzz didn't physically have one)…
At last, after a long time of staring at the dusty shards below with their mouths wide open in shock, Delete, his throat dry, finally swallowed hard and said, in a shaky, quiet tone, "Oops…"
"Buzz," Hacker said in an uncomfortably calm tone, his eyes narrowed, after they had entered the ship, "Come here."
Buzz, shaking, uneasily walked over, as Delete slowly walked down the ship's hallway, never stopping to look up; he didn't want to get Hacker's attention. As soon as the short robot had approached, Hacker, who had been sitting in his chair, slowly arose and shouted, at the top of his lungs, "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!"
"Boss, I can explain everythin—"
"Good! Can you explain why exactly you dropped the glass?! Can you explain why you didn't do anything about it?! Can you explain how you managed to screw up again?!"
"I—"
"You what! Wanted to apologize for ruining yet another one of my would-be ingenious schemes?! Well, let me inform you of something—it's not going to work this time. I can't believe how many times my plans were ruined thanks to you! You and your dimwitted duncebucket brother can never do anything right! You can't even hold a simple glass square right!"
Buzz was starting to become upset, not to mention angry, but he didn't want to admit to this. He tried to say something, but all he could manage to get out was, "Boss, really, I—"
"Enough!" Hacker shouted, waving his hand. "I've had enough of you for today, thank you very much! Get out of here! Get out of my sight!"
Buzz, looking a bit crushed, nodded and slowly walked out of the room. He headed down the hallway, until he approached the room that Delete had entered. He stopped in front of it and stared at the door; it was their bedroom…the only room in the Wreaker that they actually could call theirs…
As Buzz stared at the door, his sadness and disappointment turned entirely to hate; to rage. Delete was the one who had caused him to drop the square, and yet he was the one who had gotten blamed for it. His anger built as he continued to think of how Hacker scolded him…for something that he didn't even try to do…something that Delete had caused him to do…and Delete had gotten away with it while Buzz got Hacker's anger full blast.
His eyes flashing with hate and rage, Buzz pushed open the door to the room. Delete was sitting on the bed; he had his legs crossed and was toying around with a stray bolt. Buzz could tell that he was well over the pain he had seemed to be suffering from earlier; he was grinning broadly and singing to himself.
In his level of rage, Buzz couldn't stand to see Delete smiling, especially after what he had caused him to go through. He stepped into the doorway; Delete turned his head up to look at him. "Oh, hi, Buzzie!" he said happily. "Boy, am I glad that the boss didn't take that too seriously. Aren't you?"
"You—" Buzz started to say through his tightly closed teeth; he could feel his hand starting to clench itself into a tight fist.
Delete tilted his head, a bit puzzled at the way Buzz looked. "Buzz?" he asked, "Are you okay?"
Buzz took a deep, raspy breath to steady himself, then unclenched his fist and said calmly, "Delete, do you know exactly why you thought he didn't take it 'dat seriously?"
Delete stared at him, then shook his head, obviously lost for words. Buzz, starting to feel the anger rising again, finally unleashed it and shouted, "Because he took it out on ME, dat's why!"
Delete dropped the bolt he was toying with and cowered back as Buzz said this, starting to shake; Buzz had never shouted at him like this before without a warning in his tone. Buzz, knowing that Delete was listening to him for sure now, continued, the anger still in his voice, "I shouldn't have been the one 'dat was yelled at! It should've been you! You were 'da one 'dat dropped 'da glass, not me!" He closed his eyes tightly for a while, starting to tense with the rage, then finally yelled, "You know what?! You are 'da most pitiful excuse for a robot in all of cyberspace!"
Delete was shocked. Buzz had never said anything like that to him before, much less even hint it. He could feel his eyes tearing up as he stammered, trying not to break down in front of him, "B-Buzz…how can y-you say s-something like th-that?"
"It's quite easy, Delete," Buzz said, crossing his arms and turning away from him. His eyes narrowed as he continued, his voice sounding cold and heartless, "You've always gotten underfoot. Whenever I was 'dis close—" he held up his hands about a half-inch away from each other as he turned back toward Delete—"dis close—you've always been 'dere to screw it all up!"
Not noticing that he was taking out all of his rage toward everything on Delete, he sighed, then continued yet again, "You know why Hacker created you last? It's because he wanted to make a better model…one 'dat wouldn't screw up everything like I used to do. Well, he couldn't have been more wrong." Starting to feel himself cool down, he finally finished by saying, still in an angry tone, "Delete, you are a pathetic, low class screw-up, and I mean it 'dis time!"
"Buzz, you don't really—"
"What did I just say! I think I know when I mean something or not! And I mean it! You know, somehow I wish 'dat Digit had stayed instead of you. He was a klutz, but not as big a klutz as you are! You ain't good for nothing!" He paused, then added, "As a matter of fact, you, my friend, are a woithless ninny-hammer!"
Delete's vision became blurred as he fought to keep back his tears. So now it finally came out…Buzz thought he was a screw-up whose only job was to get in the way. After a long while, he finally managed to choke out, "Buzz…you hate me, don't you?"
Buzz, without even pausing, turned his gaze towards the nearly broken Delete and said, his voice cold and emotionless, "Yes."
That one line, that 'yes', was the one that finally did it. Delete felt the tears fall from his eyes as he gave out a choking sob; his chest heaved heavily as he tried his hardest not to break down. Buzz, content that Delete had been given a good piece of his mind, left the room, leaving Delete in the room by himself.
As soon as Buzz had left, Delete was now alone in the room, with the lights now off (Buzz had flicked the switch as he went out; it was like he didn't know that Delete was even there anymore) and the light from the Grim Wreaker's hallway casting shadows across the room's interior. He buried his face in his arms and started to sob heavily, now that he knew that he had no one left who cared for him.
"Why did he say that?" he cried to himself. "He's never said that to me before…he's never even hinted it…and he doesn't like me…oh, man…*sniff* And he's not even sorry! I want him to feel it though…I just wish there was something I could do…but what? What?"
At that precise moment was when he heard a misty, cold, icy voice say, ever so quietly:
"Kill him."
Delete looked up and, wiping the tears from his eyes, scanned the room. No one appeared to be there, yet he swore that he had heard someone, and it had been close. He shook his head once or twice, then said, ever so timidly, "Who's there?"
All was silent for a brief moment, then the voice replied, yet again:
"Who's there? I'm the only one with you, Delete. I have witnessed the event through your eyes, and I can assure you that nothing will improve unless you take up where I left off. Do what I failed to do. And that one thing that I failed at so long ago was to kill him."
"Kill who?" Delete asked, becoming curious of what was going on. The voice sounded so familiar; almost like him, in fact; and it also knew his name. He wondered if it was his conscience speaking, as there was no one else in the room, and it seemed to be coming from inside his head…he had an uneasy feeling, but continued to listen to the eerie voice.
"Kill who?" the voice echoed, then a cold laugh aroused. "You know who you must kill, Delete. You must kill the ones that were unkind to you. You must take revenge for what anyone has done to you. You must push them back into the mud that you had been pushed in before. You must experience the chance to burn within the flames of triumph; kick the ashes of defeat; smell the smoke of victory."
"But—hold on—wait," Delete said. "Are you sayin' that I should kill all of the people who have been unkind to me?"
"Exactly."
"But—aren't some people always sayin' that you should forgive and forget?"
"Those people are fools, Delete. They say that you should forgive, yet they also say that you should 'treat others the way you want to be treated'. And if someone is unkind to you, your only choice is to be unkind back with this rule. And some wonder why some live in a world with no peace. The fools have given us a double choice in life; something that could rip us in two if it ever got the chance to haunt your mind."
"Oh…" Delete looked like he had second thoughts about the 'forgive and forget' policy. Then, thinking of something else that was on his mind, he asked, "But, why do I have to kill them to take back my content? I'm sorry, I just don't understand…"
"You must kill them, Delete, because they were cruel to you. All that oppose the individuals weaker than them are asking for death—they deserve to die, Delete. And who is going to carry out that duty? Not their friends, and not their family, and certainly not the witnesses; they show no sympathy for the fallen. The fate of that person or thing lies in the hands of the opposed, and if the opposed one does not carry out this duty, that person—that opposer—will go on to break the spirits of many others; make them suffer just like they did with the innocent who chose to let go. That one innocent could've made a difference, but he chose the wrong path. Now others are suffering because that one opposing individual wasn't destroyed at first fall."
"Suffering…" Delete muttered this word as he looked down at the cold floor of the room he was in. He then looked up and said, "But…why are you telling me this? Who are you? What are you? Please tell me; I need to know…"
"Who am I? Why am I telling you this? You notice, Delete, that I would not tell you these things without a reason, and I have more than a good reason for you to do this. After what I told you about the stronger making others suffer, you do notice that they deserve death…they all deserve death…"
Delete shuddered at the word 'death' as the voice continued, "I found this out as soon as I myself started to suffer…I realized that anyone who had made me suffer deserved death. Thus, I headed out to kill the one individual who had made me suffer, but I ended up dying myself; he had killed me before I could find out for sure that he was dead. It was a sudden attack, too…" It paused for a while, and all fell still, until it continued, "I found this out long ago, but after I met my fate, I could no longer carry out the plan I had pieced together…thus, I decided to find someone who would understand what I meant, follow my plan without a thought about it, and explain why they deserve to die."
"So you chose me," Delete said, sure of himself, placing his hand on his chest.
"Precisely. Now you can continue where I left off…and at long last, the individuals who had suffered shall suffer no more…the opposing will all die…their blood will be used to paint the mural of victory…and all of cyberspace will rejoice…"
"But…you never told me who you are," Delete said, puzzled. "How can I trust you if I don't know who you are?"
The voice laughed, then said, "Who I am is not important anymore; it is what I am. And I am merely a figment of your mind, having entered it in the only way possible. I am a voice from the world of the spirits, merely explaining to you that the opposing deserve to die. You, my friend, have been chosen to continue where I left off…I remember you…" His voice suddenly became slightly angered as he said, his tone now raspy and sounding very much like a sick snake's, "I remember you so well…"
Delete began to feel uneasy at this remark; that and the voice tone he used on the last sentence. He sighed deeply, thinking over what the voice had said, about killing off the opposing, and finally muttered, "I don't think I can do that…"
"Of course you can…remember what happened with Buzz just a few moments ago? You weren't too happy with that, were you?"
Delete shook his head. "No, I wasn't…" His gentle side then took its place as he took a deep breath, then continued, "But Buzz is my brother. As much as I disliked the way he shouted at me like that, I can't kill him. It just wouldn't be the right thing to do…killing off your own blood relative…it's too cold-blooded, I'm sorry…"
He then shuddered, for at this remark, he felt himself suddenly go cold. He drew his arms around his chest for warmth, his teeth nearly chattering…it was like a blast of cold ice had just spread its way through his innards, freezing them. He coughed, and closed his eyes tightly, shaking like a tiny dog out in the cold…
After a few moments, the feeling passed, almost instantly. He opened his eyes, then withdrew his arms from his chest, wondering why he had felt that sensation so suddenly. Shaking his head to get the aftershock past, he said, confused, "What in cyberspace—"
"You have no need to worry about that," he heard the cold voice say again. "It was merely an action taking place within you; telling you its disagreement of your decision. It's somewhat like that guilt feeling you get, only this is different, much different, in fact…"
Delete was about to open his mouth to say something in return, when he suddenly realized that the voice was no longer coming from inside his head; in fact, it seemed like it was now coming somewhere from his throat. Starting to panic, he grabbed at his throat with one of his hands, then said, "Wait a minute…what are you doing? I thought that you were—"
"I am a thought, yes, that is partly true," the voice answered; it now sounded like it was somewhere near his shoulders. "But I am so much more than just a thought. You see, I used to be someone…someone once living, until that day I met my fate. I needed someone who would agree with me about my theory that all the opposing shall die." It now sounded somewhere between his chest and his neck. "You don't want to kill off one of your opposers, thus you disagree. But I have high hopes for you, Delete. I didn't come this far only to back down. I now realize that the only way for you to truly understand my theory is for you to experience what it is like to kill the opposing physically." It was now in the middle of his chest, right over his central circuitry area, or the heart, in anatomy terms. "Which means I shall have to take control. I'm sorry, but you leave me no choice."
Delete, suddenly realizing what he was planning on doing, shouted "WAI—" but was cut short by the feeling of his chest being ripped apart as the spiritual voice dug deep into his circuitry. He gasped as his words were shorted out, then shrieked in pain, throwing both of his hands over his chest, the tears leaking through his eyes. He then threw himself down on the ground, writhing, jolting, and kicking around, trying to shake the horrible feeling from his chest.
In a few moments it was all over. Delete now lay on the floor in the middle of the room, cold sweat dripping down the sides of his head and his breathing coming in short gasps. One of his hands still lay over his chest; the other was on the floor, every now and then giving a sharp twitch. His eyes were wide open, as if he had just come out of a shock state.
"Now," the cold voice said, coming from deep within his circuitry, "Do you meet my agreement for sure this time?"
Delete sat up, still panting heavily, then finally said, his voice bland and emotionless, the blank stare never leaving his face, "Yes…"
"Perfect," the voice said, now sounding more menacing than it had before. Delete's hand then left his chest, as he slowly got to his feet, his bright white eyes starting to turn a blood red color. He shook his head once or twice, then stood perfectly still, like a stone statue.
"And now, my little marionette," the voice continued, in the same menacing tone, "It's time to DANCE…"
