.The poem featured in this story is the amazing works of a man named Dylan Thomas
The show Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go! and characters featured belong to Disney.
Thankyou very much to everyone who reads this fic.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
The captain's hands shook; he gripped onto a small outcrop in the wall, grey dust coming off on his fingers, his white skin stretching out over his knuckles to show blue veins in a thin and wrinkled body.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
He looked up to the roof of the cave, what had become his shelter when the newly resurrected army of his oldest friend had brought upon their onslaught, the light at the end of the tunnel beckoned. Slowly he put one shaking, shoe-less foot in front of the other.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
He did not know where the others were, killed, missing or wounded he had a feeling he may not like to know. He had insisted on helping to fight, despite endless protests and concerns from friends, he had a feeling that, won or lost, this would be his final battle.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Hours upon hours of training, of battle formations, practice firing of weapons; new armour for every eventuality had led to this moment. Yet the hours of training are mostly useless when you are gravely outnumbered, the battle formations are put to waste when your allies disappear, the weapon training rendered useless when your eyes are stinging from the clouds of dust and smoke from burning fires, so that you can't see an enemy to fire at. And the armour you received, battered and broken cannot protect from a flying bit of twisted shrapnel as it flies without direction from a thickening fog, and embeds itself in your side.
Because their words had forked no lightning
He had said goodbye to too many friends over the years, good byes that hurt still as they flashed through his brain. Friends too young hurt the most. A sense of growing shame and guilt that soon turned to anger as he saw a life fading behind young eyes forced to grow old. Eyes that should not have seen what led them to their last moments, as they struggled and gasped as eyes turned wide at the realization that this was it, as old as they would ever grow to be.
they ,do not go gentle into that good night.
He watched them struggle, grip sheets underneath their fingers with renowned force as they gasped at each breath they took. They did not close their eyes and look peacefully away, drift off on a bed of un-lived days and unfulfilled promises, they gripped those sheets, and screamed those screams and cried tears of unashamed grief at the formidable approach of their dying breath. They did not drift into death, they were dragged, kicking and screaming.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
The last time he saw Chiro, leader of the hyperforce, saviour of the universe, he had been fighting off an enemy attack, the five cybernetic monkeys that consisted of his team by his side. After that, when the captain next laid eyes on him on the medical ward that had been constructed underneath the city, he was not the same. Hazy blue eyes looked out of a burned and scarred face, a body, a life, drugged up on so many painkillers he did not know where or who he was.
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Good people, honest people, fighters, mentors, students, teachers, friends, so many were gone now, nothing but figments of the imagination, as they were lost to the ever gaping landscape that used to be Shuggazoom City, that was now their unmarked graves. They existed as memories that sparked across the captains brain, making him ache with grief, whereas those they had found were lain side-by-side in the morgue deep below the city, their loved ones fighting with a renewed purpose, that when the war was over they could bury their dead.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
The Captain walked with a purpose now, ignoring the fire in his side. He gritted his teeth and held his weapon even tighter about his person. They would not win this war, not when they had taken so much already.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
He was once the only one, and maybe that was better, having one protector for the city. No one else would be involved, no one else would have to lay down their lives for a goal they did not necessarily share.
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Only a few days previous, Antauri had expelled these worries to the captain. He was a shell of the fighter he had once been, his metal rusty, his eyes had grown a darker shade of blue so they seemed almost black. The mechanics of this the captain did not wish to understand, if eyes are the window to the soul, what happens when these eyes are tortured by sights not to be unseen.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
He spoke to the captain, of love, and of grief, as they watched a medic quietly cover the former hyperforce leader's body with a sheet. It was Antauri's war now, for more reasons than anyone would ever know. He had watched a loved one be dragged from this world, no one is quite the same.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Tears fell from the Captains sunken sockets as a surge of blazing pain shot through him, rendering him unable to stand, he knelt on the rough surface of the cave floor as his dark blood mingled with the thin layer of dust. He did not have long left.
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
He was out in the open now, the fire and smoke had subsided somewhat, he had not known how long he had been out cold for but his guess of a few minutes had been incorrect. As he had dragged himself, bloody and blind into the cave it had been getting dark, the sun hazy as it dipped below the horizon creating a mockingly pink glow over the carnage and chaos. Now he blinked in the cold light of dawn, shuddering with a sob that racked his whole body.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
The battle field was empty, a sparse wasteland that stretched before him, no friend and no foe in sight. His eyes turned up toward the bright light of dawn as tears escaped his pale eyes. He had not wanted it all to end like his, his time was near, this he knew, but he did not want to die lonely, in a pathetic war torn wasteland.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
He closed his eyes now and remembered what Antauri had said, "The body gives up long before the mind does"….
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray
He could still be a hero, inside. His mind could run wild with the hope of a powerful and everlasting victory.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
But this is where he would part now, the sun hot on his face and the blood warm beneath his fingers. As he fell in the wasteland that could now only be called a mass grave, he let out bellowing scream, a hope, a lifeline to show anyone, everyone that he, Captain Shuggazoom, who had defied all the odds as the planets once sworn protector would not go down without a fight.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
In reality a soft moan was all that escaped the lips of a dying man as he drew his last breath.