When Memories Collide Part 1!
Razorbeard scanned the screen before him, ragged chin in hand as he absorbed everything he had gathered over the years. Information flew across the screen, scrolling, scrolling, far too fast for mortal eyes to decipher. Especially those of the two mortals he remained unaware of, both watching in suspense from above. If he had truly known exactly who was spying on him in that moment, he would have surely blown a microchip or two. In the corner of his eye, he acknowledged his most successful android: Morgroff standing motionless and obedient. A dark cackle vibrated through his chest. His Second in Command was surely a respectable specimen, more so than his true robots at times. Never would he regret his decision to robotize him.
"Tell me, did you find out who it was?" Razorbeard asked out of the blue.
The android looked to him and droned, "The second voice heard through Rosyetta? No, My Lord—bzzt! His whereabouts have not been located. I have patrols focused on the area around the trap. The mortal could not have gone far."
"I must know, Morgroff. Make sure those slackers make haste! That voice, I have heard it before, I am sure of it."
In the vent above, the cat version of Morgroff—the real soul—gave Rayman a pointed look. 'I am guessing they are referring to you?' Was the unheard question. Rayman merely gave him a sheepish smirk. All of them remained silent as they returned their attention back down below.
"Excuse my insolence for such a query, My Lord…but what about the specimen? Vincent, is it not?"
Rayman tensed, holding his breath. Bow landed on the vent by the grate, attention caught by the name. Without the Ugly saddling his back, Morgroff sat down fully and watched, intrigued.
Golden, demonic eyes, cruel enough to freeze a heart to ice, ever so slightly turned to glare. "What about him?"
"Should you not perform the procedure soon? Whilst in his presence—bzzt—I detected a 95% chance that he is fatally wounded. He might not have long…and you need him alive."
Rayman had to stifle a heart-broken gasp. Fatally wounded? Might not have long? No, it could not be true. Blatantly, according to the conversation, Vincent had not been robotized yet…so what had happened to him?
"Ah, so you noticed that too. I admit he is doing very, very well in trying to hide it," the Robot Lord confessed. "Not as weak as I originally assumed. In addition, his tolerance for physiological torture is rather impressive. Unnatural, actually, for a mortal. Then again…" He trailed off, his robotic hand still resting on the armrest flippantly indicating to the screen in front of him. "With everything I have managed to gather about him, I am not surprised. That is why I am so interested in him. That is why I wanted him—needed him. The moment Razoff told me he had captured him I had to have him! That is why I am recapping on the knowledge I have collected about him now, before I claim my prize. Let him believe for a moment that he will be alright. At the end of the day, Vincent is mine."
Morgroff sensed the turmoil in the air immediately, raising a paw to touch Rayman's fist when he noticed it beginning to clench. Anger, so much anger—the Guardian held too much pent-up emotion. It was practically flowing from the blonde in waves, heavy and dark. He pushed as much reassurance into that touch as he possibly could, before retracting the paw. 'Do not do anything brash,' the action seemed to say.
Rayman gave the cat a brief glance, appreciation and understanding present. Morgroff only nodded.
"Perfect decision, My Lord," the android praised. Above, his feline counterpart withheld a growl, hating every word uttered from his body's mouth. It still spoke in his voice, yet held a monotone edge—possessed. A fang flashed in his snarl; he despised it. He despised it with everything he had. "Bzzt! Do you require my assistance during the procedure? Or have you got other orders for me to complete?"
"Actually, there is one thing."
The Second in Command straightened. "Yes?"
"Unfortunately, Razoff has fallen prey to the first trap. How disappointing. I expected much more…finesse from him. His resilience made me believe he would have escaped, would have lasted longer. Creating my other traps was a waste of resources. It is such a shame the game ended so quickly, and with Rosyetta never getting the chance to fulfil her full potential too. Dear, dear Morgroff…care to go fetch his corpse for me? I am sure I can find some use for it."
Rayman's eyes widened. Morgroff all but lurched forward, about to yowl a mighty bellow of wrath. His hand hastily shot out to grab the furry scruff. He very, very nearly missed, but grabbed a hold nonetheless. Holding the animal back and warning him with glares alone, Rayman made sure he made eye-contact. Sapphire so angry yet sympathetic clashed with agonised amber. The blue shade of those irises swiftly cooled Morgroff's temper down, like icy water on a summer day. If only it could quench his unmatched rage as well.
But nothing in the universe could manage that.
"As you command, My Lord." The android bowed, before taking his leave.
Both Rayman and Morgroff in the vent heard the door sliding open with a whoosh beneath them, hearing the slight clanks of mechanical legs fade further and further away. When the door slid closed, only the beeps of the computer echoed throughout the room. Beep, beep, beep, so much like a heart monitor, setting Rayman's nerves on edge. He watched the Robot Captain remain seated. Through a heated scowl he watched Razorbeard lean forward to type something on the control panel, seeming intent on finding something. Curious, he mentally stored the code he had witnessed away: 'SC-582.' Upon one of the left-hand security camera screens, a sight both relieving and terrifying to Rayman appeared once the code had been processed.
There, slumped inside a cage, deathly pale—almost white—an unconscious Vincent could be seen. Blood that had once leaked from his lips had dried, its trail black—its image scarring.
The innocent, always timid male looked so dangerously ill…
Looked almost dead.
Tears swelled in Rayman's eyes. Oh Vin…what in Polokus' name happened to ya?
If only the Guardian knew, truly knew, what was happening in Vincent's brain at that moment.
XXXX
"Y-You must like to read," Vincent stated, nervous as he took one of the sofas. He suddenly had the oddest sensation of being in Razoff's Library, sat face to face with a man he once feared. Except, this place sported shades of black, purple and green, its fire a glistening white, not orange. His eyes momentarily shifted to the bookcases again. "There are a lot of books here."
A chuckle slipped passed Jano's lips as he, too, sat down on the opposite sofa. Vincent tilted his head in confusion, for that laugh sounded…unhappy.
"Oh yes, I loved to read. Being the Gatekeeper of such a dimension, one people fear might I add, leaves you pretty much with nothing. No one would willingly spend time with me. Those who I visited in their dreams ran away from me…not unlike how you reacted."
Vincent had the decency to bite his lower lip at the pointed look sent his way, expression downcast. "I really am sorry, but you did frighten me. Those nightmares terrified me."
"Wouldn't be nightmares if they didn't," Jano snorted, amused. Vincent only shrugged at that. "At the time, I had nothing but my books. Falling into unique tales in the day, rising for my job at nightfall. At least, it used to be that way."
"What changed, may I ask?"
"…You."
A look of bewilderment crossed Vincent's face. "M-Me?"
"Well, you and your twin, of course. But she was different, Vanessa was always different. Your sister grew up with a far, far more altered view of the world…and it tainted her heart black. I only ever properly bonded with you."
"Vanessa, my sister's name is Vanessa?"
Past nightmares, a memory censored by time, suddenly struck Vincent:
If I am refused to know the truth, then please do not taunt me with glimpses that I do not understand. I cannot do this; I cannot watch this—this torture. Why, why are you doing this to me? Why are you making me suffer? Please, just let me hear those words, please! What is your name? I would give anything just for a name, just to know my own twin's name.
"Remember, Vin. Do not try to find me."
Again, a sharp stab pierced his brain. Hot, scolding, Vincent grunted as he bent over and placed his head in his hands, gasping for breath. He could feel it, feel the door, feel its efforts to try and swing open. Harsh breathing filled the silence between them. Only a few moments later, he flinched at feeling the cold bones of Jano's hand gently touch his crown. It did not move, it merely remained there, the care clear. Its action radiated concern. This time, he did not bolt.
With eyes covered by his hands, Vincent failed to spot the pity in a golden eye.
"I'm sorry, Vincent. This is going to be tough on you. You're trapped in a form of amnesia, and it's not going to be painless yanking you out."
Vincent hissed in discomfort and rubbed his brow, finally opening his eyes. The dazed gleam in them did not go unnoticed. "I-I gathered that much already, I am afraid."
XXXX
At exactly the same time, in reality, Rayman spied on the Robo-Pirate Captain. Much to his surprise, the robot did not remain much longer. After checking a few more monitors, and finalising his information recap, Razorbeard finished up his task in only a minute or so. He released a hum of satisfaction, before a finger lifted and pressed a red button on the keyboard. The all-important information vanished immediately. In its place, a log-in screen now flashed.
Rayman's own eyes flashed in determination; his signature curiosity got the better of him.
"If we could just hack into that system, we can see what he's got on Vin," Rayman whispered his idea aloud, only for Morgroff to whip his head up in disbelief. "We can find out what he's on about. Maybe we can even find something to help him."
"Old Chap, that is insane and you know it," Morgroff hissed under his breath.
Rayman raised both eyebrows. "As insane as coming here in the first place? I don't think so. We're here, so we might as well go all the way."
"Your insatiable curiosity is going to get us all killed!"
Razorbeard, suspicious, examined the room around him, going very still. He swore his sensors had heard something. Voices, two of them, very faint and discreet. However, when he stood up and waited, only silence met him. And when nothing continued to occur, the Captain only sent a glare at the darkness surrounding the room's edges. Both cat and Guardian quickly ducked their heads.
Ever, ever so slowly, the short Robot Lord approached the exit. Only to hesitate a step away. He turned on his heel to give the room one last onceover, evil eyes flashing yellow amongst the shadows. Directly above, all three intruders held their breaths. Razorbeard was literally standing right under their grate. All it would take, all it would need, was for one of them to shift awkwardly, and they would be discovered.
"Hmmm, peculiar…" Razorbeard spoke to himself…or was he? It sounded so, so dangerous: a deadly trap waiting to be sprung. Chilling. Even the stark shadows in the corners seemed to recoil, frightened, nervous. It brought shudders down Rayman's spine before he could stop them. The sly, dark, merciless voice continued, a little quieter, "Very, very peculiar."
Each word was pronounced extremely slowly, the robot biding his time. And suddenly, in a moment of clarity, Rayman realised Razorbeard was doing this on purpose. Was deliberately taking things extra slow in an attempt to break the weasel out.
The breaths still withheld in their lungs became strained. Rayman desperately wanted to let it out, to breathe. Tight, his lungs felt tight. Seemed to shrivel. He felt his head suddenly going light—dizzy. His cheeks flushed with heat. Air, he needed air. Beside him, he noticed how Morgroff fared no better. The feline currently trembled on his little legs, about ready to keel over. Bow had her paws clasped to her mouth, smile in place, but cheeks darkening to a purple hue. Rayman panicked inside. They would not last much longer.
Therefore, upon hearing the door finally slide open, followed by the clangs of metal feet walking outside and the door clicking shut again, everyone just exploded.
Held breaths burst forth from their lungs. Bow fell onto her back, gasping and quietly laughing to herself. Morgroff's face planted headfirst into the vent with a small thump. Rayman coughed and gulped down mouthfuls of air, anxious at how loudly it echoed, but an adrenaline-filled grin was on his face. Everyone barely contained their panic-induced laughter.
"Gallant Glutes dancing on Polokus' arse!" Morgroff cussed through his gasps. It sounded muffled by the vent floor, and Rayman laughed under his breath, unable to hold it back. Such curses were the last thing he believed to hear from the once elegant man.
"Easy there on the blasphemy, Morgroff," Rayman sniggered. He carefully hooked his fingers under the grate, lifting it up, the rusty hinges creaking under his actions. Still cautious, he dropped down into the Security Room with a soft thud. "Ya never know, Polokus might've had a magical ass."
The feline lifted his head and snorted down at him. "Indeed, and I am blatantly a fairy."
XXXX
Driven by sympathy, Jano clicked his fingers once more, the sound loud enough to make Vincent wince. Instead of something changing, something appeared. This time, Vincent eyed a circular table suddenly in-between their sofas—between him and his supposed father. He warily spared a look to the tray that had appeared in a puff of smoke, its cutlery forged from dark obsidian: one cup on its delicate saucer, one teaspoon, one small jug of milk, and a bowl of lilac sugar cubes. Vincent wondered how such a colour for sugar could be genuine. Beside it all, the teapot already steamed away through its spout, but the sight only churned his stomach. He did not feel up to tea. Furthermore, he had never really appreciated its taste.
Jano noticed the aversion in Vincent's facial features and gave him a mirthful laugh, only for Vincent to grow shy and glance towards the fireplace.
"Tea has never been your thing, has it? You'll drink it because you feel obliged to, but you don't like it." Jano decided to highlight the other thing on the tray with a point of his finger. "No, this is yours."
Unsure, Vincent turned his attention to the object. There, directly next to the teacup, a glass resided. Beautiful patterns were etched into its crystal…and inside an orange substance awaited him. His caution was evident as he moved to take it. Feeling the chill of the glass through his glove, he brought it closer to his muzzle and took a tentative sniff. A sweet, almost citrus aroma filled his senses. He then looked down at the liquid, sloshing it about in its glass, but did not drink it.
Suspicion lowered his tone, "What is it, may I ask?"
"Haha! You really don't remember? This is your favourite thing to drink, or at least it was."
Emeralds fixed on Jano's face, staring, searching. And Jano, understanding that look, simply let him stare. For confusion as well as frustration thrummed behind those eyes, desperate for answers. Answers Jano was all too willing to let him probe for. After a long while, Vincent sighed and his expression relaxed. Nothing. He found nothing in Jano to indicate falsehood or trickery; there remained no need for apprehension.
The glass lifted until the rim touched the edges of his mouth, a flick of his wrist tipping the liquid inside. All of sudden his eyes widened. A tangy, sweet droplet of juice, almost sour, tingled on his tongue—practically an explosion on his senses. It was most certainly pleasant. He took an entire mouthful, tasted it in all its glory, then gladly swallowed, his tongue darting out to sweep away whatever residue lingered on his lips. In the corner of his eye, Vincent noted how Jano leant forward in his seat, single eyebrow raised high in expectation.
"Is this mango juice?" Vincent asked. Then, without even waiting for an answer, he drank some more. "I do very much enjoy it. Thank you."
Jano nodded, satisfied with the approval. However, Vincent became unnerved at how the other continued to stare, as if expecting something more from him. "Has the taste…triggered anything for you? You drank it a hell of a lot during your time with me."
Vincent sadly looked down. "I-I am sorry…I do not believe it has. Forgive my slowness."
Nothing more was said after that as a brief pause commenced. After reaching to carefully fill the only teacup available, Jano took his own beverage in hand, gently cradling it. It seemed so little when compared to his large fingers. He then fell back into the sofa cushions with a sigh of content, completely silent.
Such a scene caused Vincent to narrow his eyes. He too reclined into his sofa seat, glass cradled in both hands as his stare fixed on Jano. Something was niggling in the back of his mind, as if he had seen this same sight with Jano many times before. Odd, unfamiliar prickles swept over his spine. As if, in a peculiar way, he had felt that hand before, so huge and unnatural, cupping to cradle his much smaller body. Those bony fingers resting against his back and, quite simply, holding him. Reassuring him whenever he was feeling too down, too distressed. Or when the world seemed to turn against him. However, a groan escaped him at finding himself unable to grasp the whole sensation—unable to establish the memory.
It felt…faraway, so unclear.
Vincent gave a sudden shake of his head, the irritation he tried to hide only contorting his face. Unfortunately, Jano distinguished the signs of turmoil without effort, and hid a frown behind his cup while sipping at his tea.
Perhaps being more direct with Vincent will extract more results?
XXXX
All three intruders recovered from their happy burst fairly quickly, their expressions turning solemn. There was literally too much at stake here…with too much having already been lost. This was no time for laughter, or jokes, or sarcasm. Rayman's eyes narrowed. No, this was a time for action. Action he intended to perform. He gave a small whistle up to the vent, to which Bow responded by grabbing the feline around the middle to hoist Morgroff down through the gap, wings flapping wildly at having to do this a second time that night. Although tired, not once did she complain. When all four of Morgroff's paws touched the ground, no longer requiring her ability of flight, the Ugly slumped onto his back with a giggle—her exhaustion evident. The feline merely glimpsed her over his shoulder, furry brow raised.
"What do you need us down here for, Old Chap?" Morgroff asked, sincerely confused. "I am afraid we cannot offer you much here."
Rayman gave him a disbelieving stare. "Sure ya can! Ya can be my extra eyes. I can only focus on a few screens at a time, ya know."
Morgroff's face brightened in understanding as he gave a purr of agreement, before then pouncing up onto the control panel. Bow seemed to find it an awesome concept since her cheerful squeal rang the moment her ride leapt so high. Careful to avoid pressing any buttons, or dislodging Bow, he perched himself comfortably on the edge, tail falling over the side to lazily swing from left to right. His ears twitched whenever a static noise came from the screens, signalling a camera change. Keen eyes began to observe them for oncoming threats, proud to help. Satisfied, Rayman's gaze sharpened in concentration as it fixed on the main screen.
Feeling reluctant, repulsed, the Guardian gingerly sat himself down where the Robot Lord had also been seated a few minutes prior. It made him feel uncomfortable, not because the throne itself was in any way—on the contrary, it felt rather plush for an artificial body incapable of feeling it—but because of who it belonged to. Suppressing a shiver, Rayman steeled himself and took a deep breath, hands rising to hover over the keys.
All of a sudden, a flashback from the Engine Room hit him. The memory with Razoff standing by his side brought a wave of sorrow and caused his hand to falter. He remembered the password Razoff had figured out in order for them to get into that room and swallowed. Rayman, unsure, glanced up to his left. Where the Hunter's illusion, so proud, graceful, and intelligent, stood in his memory with both arms crossed…only empty shadows remained. He hastily shut his eyes against the image, depressed. Deep, deep down, although he would never admit it, a pang in his chest hurt him as his heart cracked just a little bit more.
If only, if only he had just opened his eyes, even for just a moment…then he would have spotted the worried glance the feline sent his way.
A hefty weight was threatening to crush his conscience as the Guardian forsook its agony in exchange for a single word: 'MORTAL.' Tap…tap…tap. Gloved fingers typed it in one key at a time. Each tap resonated through his mind, seeming too loud against the silence and the thrums from the monitors. Upon the main screen, six white stars represented his chosen letters. Tension engulfed him as his finger swiped the Enter button.
An odd, happy jingle revealed how it was successful. The words 'Password Accepted' appeared for a brief moment, before the computer then let the intruder in; unable to discern friend from foe, it gave him access.
And information abound reflected off Rayman's eyes. Overwhelmed, a frown crossed his lips at being forced to slow its speed down so he could actually read it. For a mortal like himself, it was impossible to process anything at such an inhuman speed. One hand remaining on the mouse, the other resting under his chin to support it, he warily leant back in the chair and read the title out loud:
"Vincent File: Origin, Intended Goal, Abilities."
Morgroff, curious, flicked his gaze over to Rayman, knowing he should be paying attention to the cameras instead. However, the moment he took the risk and glanced in Rayman's direction…his heart plummeted. He found himself transfixed—fascinated.
For there Rayman sat, looking rigid, his sapphire orbs wide whilst they read the research in his head. He suddenly bolted forward. Closer, it was impossible for him to get any closer. The mouse moved, the page scrolled. Casualness fled, replaced by sheer shock.
Perplexed, the feline could only watch the masks upon Rayman's face drastically change the more he read. Bewilderment, amazement, horror, excitement, confusion: every mask imaginable painted that pale face—each one disappearing too fast to truly decipher each emotion. From where Morgroff sat, his positon made it impossible to read the truth currently unravelling his partner from the inside out.
The Guardian, strangled by utter incredulity, barely breathing, stuttered out, "W-What…is all this…?"
XXXX
"Continuing where I left off, both you and your sister changed my immortal life. Once upon a time, I read books for the company the characters would give. Yet, the moment you came along, I was forced to retire those books. To be honest, I absolutely hated you both." Emerald eyes widened, unable to hide the hurt, but Jano merely petted his head once more and removed his hand. "I hated you…at first. I had been alone for millennia, and although I got lonely at times—never admit to anyone I told you that, by the way—I also treasured my solitude. Your unexpected company was a bombshell on the privacy I never knew I craved, to say the least. At first, I saw you two as a burden: a task bestowed on me to make my life even more miserable. However, I confess I was wrong. As years and years passed us by, watching you grow, watching your personalities take shape, I grew to care for you both a great deal. I raised you. I taught you. I cared for you. Not just because I was ordered to, but because after a while…I wanted to."
"Ordered to?" Vincent latched on immediately. "By whom?"
XXXX
This…this cannot be true. This is impossible!
"What is wrong, Rayman?" Morgroff demanded, growing more and more concerned. "What have you found out?"
Ever, ever slowly, Rayman stood from the chair. Unsteady feet nearly failed him—nearly failed to take his own weight. Paler and paler he became, yet his pupils only grew brighter and brighter. Realisation more powerful than any physical strike threatened to sweep him off his feet:
"It…it seems impossible…so impossible. But now I understand. I understand what Vin meant, before. One night, he asked me whether I thought he was a bad person. I told him I could sense the core inside people—which I can—and that I couldn't see a bad person in him at all. I only saw shyness, innocence, good intentions. He doesn't have a single bad bone in his body! So why would he ask that? Why would you believe yourself to be bad? I never knew why. Now, now I do."
XXXX
"You were given to me for a very specific purpose. In this world, there is both dark and light, yet both need to coexist in order to survive. The balance in the Glade of Dreams is based on these two concepts working together. One simply cannot exist without the other. Although none know this, I, Jano, am the younger brother of Polokus. He created this world based on light and goodness, but in order to counteract this, I also exist. Is happiness truly happiness if you have never suffered from anything bad in your life to understand it? Do you understand what true, real fear and agony is unless you have lived with happiness at least once? Together! We work together. My job and role in life is not pleasant by any means, but it is required for the light to understand its significance. For without nightmares…there is also no definition for a 'dream' as well."
"Please! I fail to understand, you are talking about yourself. How do I fit into this?" Vincent begged, hastily shooting up from the sofa. His glass of juice remained clutched in both hands—his grip so tight. He stood before Jano, growing frightened, desperate. "I ask you again, who ordered you to raise me?!"
Jano harshly put his tea down on the table, shaking his head in earnest.
"No! You first have to understand just who and what you are!"
