A/N: Okay, so this fanfic's been kicking around in my brain since seventh grade. Then last week I discovered that Buzz Lightyear of Star Command is on the Disney channel every morning at 2. Long story short: Warp muse returned from his five-year holiday, and this fanfiction was reborn.
P.S. Props to you if you review and find my reference to Moby's song "Porcelain".
"Darkmatter! Get in here!" Darkmatter flinched slightly as the command echoed throughout the hallways. He leaned against the wall and decided to test his boss's patience, knowing full well the stupidity of his actions.
"Darkmatter, don't test my patience today!" Damn. Though Zurg didn't sound truly pissed, Darkmatter didn't want to push him any farther. Not today. Darkmatter opened his eyes and willed his headache away.
"Coming," he muttered into his com device. "I'm coming." The hallways were steel and decidedly evil looking, but Darkmatter had gotten used to them long ago. It seemed Zurg's mission in life to make everything as evil looking as possible, even something as functional as a hallway.
Darkmatter arrived at the main chamber room and pressed his cheek against the cool wall for a moment before entering. Zurg was perched on the arm of his throne as usual, staring down at Darkmatter with distain.
"Another all-night rave, I expect," he sighed, drumming his fingers impatiently.
"Well, it wasn't 'all-night'," Darkmatter corrected. "Technically-"
"Spare me the details," Zurg interrupted. "Every Monday it's the same. I don't pay you ten thousand a week to shoot vodka and snort blow and then work for me in your free time."
"I don't snort-" Darkmatter began, but Zurg cut him off again.
"Shut up. Here's the bottom line: shape up, or you're finished."
"You wouldn't," Darkmatter murmured under his breath.
"Would so!" Zurg snapped. "Now pay attention. I need someone taken care of."
"Again?" Darkmatter groaned. "That's the tenth one this month."
"Ah, is somebody getting soft?" Zurg said condescendingly. "Have you suddenly got a conscience, hm?"
"No Sir," Darkmatter said quickly. "It just…I mean, I usually have to spend at least a day tracking them down, and most don't go down without a fight. So then I have to beat them to a bloody pulp before I kill them. It takes a lot out of me, you know?"
"Darkmatter, if you don't do this, I'll take a lot out of you," Zurg said, his voice rising. "How about your kidneys?" Darkmatter sighed. He didn't have the energy to protest.
"All right, fine. Where can I find him?"
"That's better," Zurg said. "I'll have the information sent to you as soon as my STAFF can get their sorry asses in gear." He said the last bit loud enough so that the various lackeys scurrying around heard him. "You may go," he added, waving his hand dismissively in Darkmatter's direction. Darkmatter stalked out of the room, pulling out his cigarettes as he went.
He found himself leaning against the railing of a small balcony, smoking and looking out over the dismal world below. The clouds above were red from pollution, and the sun was never visible- a great backdrop for some internal bitching.
Darkmatter's day had not begun well. He had woken up with a screaming headache, his condo was trashed, and all of his silverware was gone. Now Zurg was sending him out to kill somebody else, and in all likelihood he'd come home exhausted with a black eye and a few new laser burns.
As if it were reproaching him for his whininess, Darkmatter's mechanical arm sent a jolt of pain into his shoulder. He took one last drag from his cigarette and put it out on his arm. That would teach it.
Darkmatter checked his com link and noticed that he'd received the information on his next target. It was a young woman who'd pissed Zurg off somehow, and now it was Darkmatter's job to find her and blast her skull in. Same shit, different day. Darkmatter closed his helmet and leapt off the balcony. He let himself fall past the skyscrapers and the factories and the transports. He fell. In my dreams, I'm dying all the time. Sometimes he woke up before he hit the ground, and sometimes he didn't.
Ten feet from impact, Darkmatter quit fucking around opened his wings. He had a job to do, after all.
