Fall Of The Empire
Rating: T-17+
Disclaimer: I don't own this. . . or do I? Nah, I don't. So don't sue me. I'm already in enough debt with my student loans.
Author's Notes: Why hello, hello! Fancy seeing you all here. Welcome to the launch of ROOTA! I hope you all enjoy what you read, and I'm glad that I took that break - it was nice having a summer break for once, and not having to worry about ridiculous things like "getting ready for school" or "prepping for school in the fall" or that ever-classic "hey take a summer course online for school!"
Nope. Just me, myself, and I. I decided that you guys had waited long enough and it was time to get this show on the road again. Updates will be kind of slow, I'm still getting all of my source material together for Sn. 2 (somewhere, an organized writer cries out in pain upon reading these words), but rest assured, the skeleton and muscular structure are all there, just not the skin. . . ew, that was a gross analogy.
Anyway, super, huge love to all of my fans. Look at you guys! I wasn't expecting so many reviews! And did you know that I've cracked the top 3 stories in this fandom (by review count?) That's pretty much amazing and insane at the same time! Thank you so much! I literally cannot express my thanks enough.
Now, onto a few announcements:
1.) I have another fanfiction, "Belief" in Rise of the Guardians. I'll be taking about a month to finish that up. I really need to get it done - it's been about half a year since I updated it! Expect a small delay while I light a fire under my ass and finally get to finishing it up. I'll probably adopt a "one chapter here, one chapter there" model until it's done.
2.) On that note, be prepared for shorter chapters. FOTE had length in each of its chapters because episode transcriptions easily gobbled up 5k. I'm kind of happier I'll be releasing shorter chapters, because 10K+ word counts are a tall order to ask of anyone, seasoned readers or not. I won't sacrifice quality, though, but I'll be trying to shoot for chapters between 4 - 7k. . . let's see how it goes!
3.) Anne and Moon - my girrrlllsss! Hope this was worth the wait, ladies. c:
4.) I think this about wraps it up for announcements (this chapter) but know that ROOTA will not be beyond 15 chapters at the maximum (prologue included!). Even if Season 2 had been 25-odd episodes, a large majority of them would have been fluff. With only one stone left, in my canon, there won't be too much more to fight over. But getting to that stone. . . well. That's another story.
Anyway, let's see how ya'll like the launch. This chapter was like pulling teeth - and I struggled with it, I won't lie. Give me a little bit of time to find my groove, and we'll open up the racing gates. Bear with me until then!
Warnings: Nothing, except for stylistic things FF loves to om nom. Mild cursing. If you see anything with the first-person in it, it should be italicized. That is all.
. . . this text is here for a mysterious reason.
It took every ounce of his composure to remind himself to sit, still and erect, and pretend he was interested. Secretly, Lion-O was bored out of his skull. A large part of him wanted to just sigh, bury his face in his hands, and ask just why a dog and a bird were fighting over something so stupid as a single fish. Really. Who cared who ate what? There was plenty of food to go around, and none of it was exclusive to a single race. The whole argument of "the dogs should share their plates with us" was just beyond stupid, really.
Just because one dog had refused to give a bird his fish was just. . . Ugh.
Before him sat an assembly of creatures: dogs, a few cats, fishmen, birds, and even Annet. More lingered in the crowds, taking up what little standing room was available, but he hadn't had time to memorize their faces or their names. They were just part of the shapeless, political mass. Lion-O flicked his eyes over the group, and he sighed, not at all pleased with how it was proceeding. As if on cue, one of the dogs jumped up, slamming his paws into the table, a growl pulling back his lips and revealing dull teeth.
". . . expect the dogs to become your servants?" He barked, slamming another fist down onto the table. "We won't do it! We are not lowly creatures to serve masters! We are equals!"
One of the birds recoiled, blinking owlishly, unaware of the insult he'd just delivered. Lion-O let another tiny sigh escape him as he watched the bird recover, sniffing down his beak at the dog. "We asked no such thing of you. I can see, however, that you and your ilk are as barbaric as I've been told."
"What did you call me you flat-feathered freak?!"
The bird's smooth plumage puffed up, making him look more than ridiculous.
"I never!" He stammered, trying to find an insult to hurl at the dog.
Lion-O glanced between the two of them, idly musing that today was one of the better days for a council meeting. Normally at least two races found reason to start fighting with each other. It had already been three hours and there had only been one fight? Yeah, not too shabby. His amusement turned into a small frown as he looked on at the crowd. There was a reason he'd always run away from his political duties. It wasn't his strong suit - it never would be. Now, put a sword in his hand, point him in a direction of a fight. . . and he could get people to follow him. Instinctively, Lion-O reached for Omens, but his hand met empty air.
No weapons allowed in the council hall. . . yeah.
Without the heavy, comforting weight of Omens against his side, he always felt twitchy. Omens and his father's gauntlet were his rock and anchor in times he needed them most, and without them on his person, Lion-O just felt like another face in the crowd. That's the hard truth of the matter though, isn't it? He thought glumly. Without Omens and the gauntlet, I'm just another Cat.
"The birds don't deserve-"
"That's enough!" Lion-O said, projecting his voice loudly. Ridiculous argument or not, that kind of thinking was only going to lead to more terrible superiority complexes.
Instant quiet descended on the council room, and the animals all turned to him. . . and not all the gazes that landed on him were trusting. Hostility met him, and in a flash, Lion-O felt deep cracks spread through his invisible armor. It took everything he had inside of him not to fidget. He almost flinched as he remembered a time, nearly two years ago, when he'd been forced to sit in on his father's advisory meetings.
He'd made the mistake of opening his mouth, asking about some stupid placement of a battlement, but the critiquing, hard eyes had made his face flush and embarrassment plague him. Even worse was the stern lecture he'd received after. His father had not been pleased that "my son knows absolutely nothing about his own castle's defense strategies! You made me look a fool!"
He swallowed, refusing to fidget and lose his composure. "We didn't bring this council together so we could fight over who gets what and who is owed what due. The council is here to unite the animals while I track down the final stone-"
"Yes, Lord of the ThunderCats," The bird said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he pinned Lion-O with a glare, "How is that search going?"
"Like his father," A dog continued, "He only seeks to put his species back in charge!"
"Would you rather have the Cats or Mumm-Ra in charge?" A cat snapped, hissing at the dog.
The council room erupted into noise as dogs, cats, fish and birds all started screaming at one another, fighting and squabbling over power. Irritation and anger flashed through Lion-O as he felt his patience running thin. Of all the stupid things they could be arguing about, the animals chose this? How many acts of goodwill did he have to provide to each sect before they learned that he was not his father? That he refused to follow in his footsteps?
"I say we let the dogs rule! We won't fall before-"
"Oh, please. The birds are far more capable-"
"The fishmen have been ignored long enough!"
"Enough!" Lion-O snarled, his voice ringing.
Immediately, the animals quieted a second time, some even sitting back down, but a few remained standing and glared. Lion-O breathed in deeply, taking a calm, steadying breath, repeating a mantra of "don't let my emotions get the better of me" over and over again mentally. After a few seconds, he was relieved to find that it worked. He'd been halfway tempted to smash his hands onto the table, but an aggressive action wouldn't have gotten him anywhere. Standing proud and tall, Lion-O swept his gaze over the room, taking each animal in stride as he examined all of them.
"The Cats ruled by force when we arrived on Third Earth - I won't deny the truth of that. But I seek to change the course of history. The Cats are not your superiors. We are your equals. Any animal seeking to follow ThunderCat history will find their cities razed and burned to the ground. Maybe it won't happen in five years, or even a hundred - but it will happen. Thundera was. . . no, it is a symbol of our arrogance. Look what it brought us! The Cats are almost extinct, our strongest city lies in ruins, and Mumm-Ra will try to take advantage of our broken unity to tear us apart. We unite, or we fall."
Leo knew how to give a speech, Lion-O thought. With just a few seconds, his ancestor had rallied the animal slaves to revolt against Mumm-Ra, and here he was, years later, showing his inadequacy, again and again. He was just barely able to keep the animals from tearing themselves apart. . . and in all honesty, it was a wonder Mumm-Ra hadn't done it for him yet. He's probably watching and laughing somewhere. . . For the thousandth time, Lion-O wished for Tygra to stand beside him - his brother always knew what to say, when to say it, and how to best approach a person. He'd personally watched Tygra diffuse political meltdowns within seconds, just by offering a handshake or by flashing a (uncharacteristic) winning smile.
. . . Even though it pained Lion-O to admit it, in the area of politics, governing, and ruling, Tygra would always reign supreme.
"I can't go in there with you," Tygra had said to him, crossing his arms and pinning him with a stern look, "It'll make you look like a weak leader - like you need me to tell you what to do and how to do it. I hate to say it, Lion-O, but. . . you're on your own."
True, true, all true. With Tygra at his side, Lion-O would have made bounds and strides in the political minefield. But it would have cost him appearances and power. He would have seemed like a puppet, requiring somebody else to move his mouth and body for him. He would have been a weak king. Instead, he'd had to put his limited knowledge of politics to the test, and Lion-O reflected grimly, it wasn't going well.
Six months after Avista's fall, and he was running himself ragged just trying to keep the peace between all of the animals. Taking another breath, Lion-O took a moment to steel his resolve and looked to the crowd once more.
"I apologize it's taking so long to find the next stone. We're doing our best - I'm following every lead that I have. Please, bear with me a while longer. When I hear news, you will all be the first to see my findings. On this issue, however, I will make it abundantly clear: the Cats brought Mumm-Ra to this land. . . and it's my duty to atone for our mistakes. . ."
Somebody scoffed, and another animal began murmuring, and Lion-O found that. . . that that was all was needed to shatter his confidence. He trailed off, losing his next words. In his throat, his voice stalled, and the eyes of every council member present stared at him, waiting for his next words, all while they judged and criticized him, evaluating his worth as a leader on the spot. Lion-O stood there, feeling like a kitten all over again, floundering as he tried to come up with what to say next. He honestly did. But his words failed him, and he swallowed, fingers flexing-
"I move to adjourn the council for today." A calm voice spoke, saving him.
Lion-O cut Dobo a grateful look, which the dog acknowledged with a tiny, imperceptible nod of his head.
The other animals - surprisingly - rushed to agree, glad to be free of the chamber. Lion-O was the first to rush for the door, breathing out a shaky sigh of relief. As he pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the council room, he found Tygra waiting for him on the opposite side, a frown on his face.
"Didn't go so well, did it?"
"When does it ever?" Lion-O groused.
"Lion-O," Tygra said, his voice slipping into the incredibly familiar, "Lion-O, you failed again,", "We can't afford to have the assembly cave. Not now. You have to hold them together."
"I'm trying," Lion-O replied (and grimaced, because even to his ears, he sounded whiny), "It's not getting any easier. Every animal is at the other's throat, demanding superiority. They're fighting over the stupidest, trivial things-"
At that, Tygra laughed, clapping him on the shoulder roughly. "Welcome to politics. None of the issues matter but everyone acts like they do anyway. . . all in the name of appearances. We'll go over your political faults tomorrow. For now, let's get back to camp."
Tygra paused to stretched, and Lion-O echoed the motion. Not that he could blame his brother much for it. Council meetings could run for hours, and Lion-O fondly remembered one session that had gone a clear six hours. . . nonstop. But Tygra was always there, waiting for him when he left. In that respect, Lion-O could always rely on his brother. Before any of the other council members could catch them, Lion-O adopted a brisk walk over to the aptly nicknamed "Cat Town." After Avista's fall, and with nowhere to go, the Cats had set up a ramshackle, run down shack town situated just a little ways away from a settlement claimed by dogs. Dog City was a decent three days away, and the bordering forest, and nearby ocean provided more than enough food for everyone present, meaning it was the perfect place to set up a base for all the animals to come together and get to know one another.
But Lion-O hadn't planned on the Book of Omens being absolutely silent for six months. Not so much as a flicker of life had come from a fabled book, no matter how much Lion-O had pleaded or threatened it. It remained dormant, and even, in a moment of weakness, when he'd begged Jaga to tell him where the final stone was, the book still remained stubbornly silent.
Pulling closer to the shanty town, Lion-O cast a relieved glance to the Feliner, the sleek, much-larger-than-the-tank-thank-Thundera, machine glimmering in the setting sun. Beautiful hues of golds and oranges spread across the sky, woven through with bits of pink and blue. Lion-O walked away from Tygra, not bothering to say a word to his brother as he made his way up a small cliff overlooking Cat Town. It was his favorite place to sit and think, to snatch just a little bit of alone time away from his duties as Lion-O: Super Animal to Unite All Races.
Sitting himself on a rock, Lion-O leaned back, an exhausted breath leaving his body. Yeah, he was doing a wonderful job at that whole "uniting" thing.
Six months, and he'd gotten nowhere.
Six months, and it was only a matter of days before one of the races challenged his tenuous hold on authority. And when that moment came. . . Lion-O didn't think he'd be able to keep hold of the position.
Reds streaked through the sky, turning the orange into something a little more foreboding.
"I always like the sunsets the most."
Lion-O closed his eyes as he swore he saw a flash of white and blue, smelled the odd, alien scent of someone who had once described herself as his best, closest friend.
. . . Worst yet. . . the ghost of her kept haunting him.
He always had to fix something.
Not that he minded; it was what kept him busy, after all. But it was slightly. . . what was the way to describe the emotion that flashed through his circuits? Irrigation. . . Imitation. . . ah. Irritation. Yes, he remembered, that would be the name that would best be accompanied with the emotion. Irritation. Every time he turned his back and went to another repair site, the one he'd left ungarded would be wrecked by vandalism or a stray rifle shot or something.
There was always a reason. And, statistically speaking, 89.78% of the time, it was malevolent in intention.
Deep in his circuitry, his memory banks pulled a recent instance to the forefront of his viewscreen.
"Fix it!" One of the lizards had commanded of him once.
He'd shuttered his optics up at the creature, HUD displaying a myriad of reasons why the circuit board had been destroyed. Scorch marks and crystallized residue leftover from the site told the little repairman everything he needed to know - the lizard had done it on purpose. He had taken just a second too long in moving to repair the circuit board, apparently, as the lizard grew impatient and had seen fit to grab his rifle and raise it over his head.
"Good for nothing electronic synthetic!"
He'd flinched, expecting the blow, the error messages to scroll across his HUD, nanites flooding to the site to mend the destruction-
His visual relays were glitched. They had to be.
One moment, he was facing destruction at the hands of a cold-blooded animal. . . and the next?
The next, the lizard was shoved by an invisible force, body hitting the wall with such force, it crumpled, leaving a large crater warped into the metal. He straightened from his cower, optics scanning the lizard, noting several internal injuries - sites of internal bleeding, cracked ribs, broken bones. . . still, the force increased. Another crack, and the lizard cried out, his vocal cords producing the sound of what living creatures called "pain," and the little repairbot watched as the lizard was released.
He dropped to the floor, limp and broken.
Warm, organic arms circled around him, and the little bot was wise enough to allow himself to be picked up and cradled against a human chest.
"Let this be a lesson to you, lizard," She'd said, her voice so cold it'd made him shiver, "Nobody is to touch this robot. Not you, not Mumm-Ra's generals. . . not even Mumm-Ra himself. Have I made myself clear?"
"Y-Yes."
And she'd walked away, holding him in her arms. He'd never felt so content and complete. Moments like that, tender and serene, were becoming a rarity with her. He just. . .
Sunny just wanted his Erica back.
A notification popped up on his display, and he was off, transforming and rolling himself into a ball to give himself more speed. Finally. Finally! The time had finally come. He could calm the nervous twitching in his servos, the strange, unidentifiable quaking that plagued him when Erica was offline. When she was awake, he could access her medical records - he could make sure everything was completely copacetic for his charge.
When she was offline. . . Sunny felt like a huge swatch of his circuitry had gone offline, and there was no way for him to repair it. It sent him into a . . . what was the best word for it? Panera. . . Paid. . . Panic! Yes, panic. He couldn't handle details of his charge when she was gone.
But today. . .
Today, that was all going to change.
Sunny sped towards the atrium, where Erica and the other human spent most of their time together. His charge offered him protection, so Sunny didn't mind that the lizards hissed at him as he sped by. He had somewhere to be, and time was running short. Arriving in the atrium, Sunny activated his transformation sequence and unrolled himself back into his bipedal position. A small smattering of lizards were present, dressed in a strange, draped cloth that signified them as part of the other human's cult.
That human. . . Mama. . . Mary. . . Markata - he was standing there, dressed in the proper, to-the-code military outfit. But something was different about his appearance than what Sunny remembered. . . not that his memory counted for much - his bands were corrupted. He was lucky that he'd even managed to retain Erica's name and medical files. Striding into the room as fast as his small servos would allow, he stopped into the middle of the atrium, optics scanning over its occupants.
Markata flicked his eyes down to him, but his expression remained even.
". . . you have what you need, I trust?" Markata continued, looking at Sunny's charge.
Sunny peered up at the man, booting his optical relays to ensure he was not suffering from some glitch. Markata's body was covered in a cloud - something that Sunny couldn't readily identify. It wasn't obvious unless one was looking for it, and even then, it required high digital spectrum technology to even glimpse it. Sunny tried to analyze the cloud particles he could detect, but the subject read as "UNKNOWN" in his HUD.
He filed away the anomaly for later investigation.
"I'll be fine." Erica replied shortly. Her hands moved in practiced, methodical ways, straightening and tightening buckles and straps, cinching down her body harness. On her back, black boxes gleamed, bearing the designation of the Black Pyramid, and inscribed with her personal identification number.
"You used to be much more chipper, lieutenant," Markata continued, tucking his hands behind his back, "What changed? You always used to smile-"
"Nothing to smile about anymore-"
"-even when you were the last soldier standing. I can't tell you how much that unnerved those under my command. Whenever retrieval missions involved you, my men would find you, a young girl, drenched in blood, and smiling as though she hadn't a care in the world. . ."
His charged paused, and he saw a spike in her heart rate, but it was nothing immediately concerning. Erica stilled, and finally, looked down to him. Sunny, giving a pleased chirp, walked over to her and grabbed a handful of her pant leg.
This was what he'd been made for, after all.
Just for her. Just for his Erica.
Markata was right - he could pull that much from his databanks. In truth, Sunny missed the way she'd used to grin, reach down, and heft him up. "And where have you been?" She'd ask him, "I was getting lonely, you know. My sunny little sun bear."
Of course, when she'd been younger, the animal known as a sun bear had been a little too difficult for her to pronounce. Sunny had done just fine. A heavy cloak swallowed up her features, covering everything in deep shadows. Still, those bright blue eyes bored down at him, looking almost hostile - but Sunny wasn't afraid. Erica would never hurt him.
". . . did I?" She murmured, her voice just barely audible.
Sunny stretched his hand high over his head, a clear indicator that he desired to be picked up. It was what he'd been built for, and it was even stashed away inside of his code - but it would take some time to recover and repair the necessary data files in his memory bank.
His charge ignored him, instead choosing to turn away and pick up Sunny's present for her. The gun he'd asked her for, so many months ago, broken down and rebuilt. Erica had preferred it that way, he remembered that much. He'd even inscribed her favorite little motif of him onto the stocks. Erica turned them over in her hands, as if inspecting his handiwork, before shoving it into holsters on her sides. Securing them, she turned around, facing Markata. Sunny stood there, optics shuttering as he imitated a blink.
His arms dropped.
How odd.
. . . He'd have to report that to the medical mainframe.
It was in the rule that his charge was not to refute his affections at any time. It was what he'd been designed for - it was also clearly written in the rules. . . if only he could recover them. Either way, he'd have time to try and salvage the damaged files, and then he'd sit down with Erica and have a very serious talk with her.
But now, she was walking away, and his HUD displayed several infractions of the code of proper conduct as she departed - without her commanding officer dismissing her, and refusing to address him with his proper title (among others) - and Sunny felt. . . sure. . . share. . . stung that she didn't even bid him goodbye.
Sunny heard himself let loose a small, unhappy chirrup as he stood there, watching her walk away.
He just. . . He just wanted his Erica back. . .