Deep in the dark depths of the deepest, darkest lab of a certain Dark Organisation (TM), a machine whirred into ominous life. Lights illuminated in sequence along its sides while others twinkled a sixties' pattern across readout panels, the activity from the device increasing by the moment as a percentage bar climbed slowly from the zero mark.
The contraption was about seven and a half feet tall, and cylindrical. Wires and tubes burst from the top in a tangled confusion of technological herpeticism that would have warmed the heart of the bastard offspring of Medusa and H. R. Giger (although that particular universe was some distance away). The aforementioned lights appeared as gateways to a stellar core when active, and as gateways to an event horizon when darkened - the twinking reminding onlookers of missile duels in a nighttime desert, of cluster bombs spreading eternal peace in a wide slash across unknown lands, of point-defense lasers carving through the hull of some dark capital ship from fleets beyond mortal ken.
Others just glittered, but let's not spoil the melodrama.
Something about the way the black tube (protrusions of uncertain application which unfolded from the rear of the cylinder, lights flashing faster as the bar reached the halfway mark) glistened under the sodium lighting of the laboratory made the few technicians present turn away in sick revulsion - it seemed to be made of a substance denied being organic at the last minute. Only one dark figure stood unfazed by the RESPAWN device as it reconstructed its master from the pattern stored in its database and from his recent thoughs, a figure standing in a black suit of combat armour looking for all the world like that of Drax Elite molTare Erda.
The dark one was looking at the pipes on the crown of the machine, albeit only insofar as his gaze inside the faceted helmet was directed that way rather than any other. He, however, was focusing on things rather different to and more important than the bundle of wire and tubing.
'Erda...'
At that moment a noise from the RESPAWN point caused the ominous figure to look around, sparing his terrified and unwilling audience of techies a rambling, bitter and self-pitying internal monologue. And there was much rejoicing. The noise which had snapped the obsidian observer out of his approaching rant was a bleep from the cylinder some few feet away, followed by a jet of steam venting from the centre of the machine's top. Glancing at the readout panel where the progress bar had been, he read the single word, 'Complete'. His eyes flicked across to the door of the machine as it opened and the Lanreau stepped out looking decidedly ill. He spoke, the words shockingly loud in the sudden quiet.
'Welcome back to the land of the living, elf-boy. Dodn't expect you to be trying your new toy so soon - I take it you were somewhat... careless?'
The pointy-eared Eya tried to speak, but failed miserably.
'Having trouble there, elf-boy? Don't worry, it'll pass eventually.'
'Wh.. wh..'
'What's that?' the soldier grinned mercilessly, 'Speak up, I can't quite make that out. Something important, elf-boy?'
'Wh.. wh.. WHY DO YE BOTH INSIST ON CALLING ME ELF-BOY?'
'Both? Ah, you would mean Erda... well, he and I are about as different as two people can be, so naturally there are a great many similarities between us. Candidly though, I do it just to irritate you.'
'Aye, so a'thought.' The resurrected party had regained his composure somewhat. 'So who were the three as attacked me today? 'Course, a ken well that hellcat Clan Clan, an' a reckon the git that blew m'head off might ha' been Starwind if the tales speak true, but who was the walkin' fortress wearin' the same armour as you?'
'That would be the reason I'm here. He is molTare Erda, and I'm helping you ensure he fails. then, I shal hunt him down and kill him and kill him and kill him until he dies; then when he is dead... I shall kill him some more! Bwahaha!'
'Oh aye. Friend o'yourn, then.'
'Oh, yes. A friend. A very old friend. Now, to work. Let's use the might of your evil empire to seriously inconvenience the newly-expanded crew of the Outlaw Star...'
As the two walked from the lab, the strange Drax-armoured one turned to look at the silent RESPAWN point.
'You know, I might just put Erda's pattern into that machine, and kill him a few times a week every week of my life. You know what they say, after all: revenge is a dish best served repeatedly...'
The contraption was about seven and a half feet tall, and cylindrical. Wires and tubes burst from the top in a tangled confusion of technological herpeticism that would have warmed the heart of the bastard offspring of Medusa and H. R. Giger (although that particular universe was some distance away). The aforementioned lights appeared as gateways to a stellar core when active, and as gateways to an event horizon when darkened - the twinking reminding onlookers of missile duels in a nighttime desert, of cluster bombs spreading eternal peace in a wide slash across unknown lands, of point-defense lasers carving through the hull of some dark capital ship from fleets beyond mortal ken.
Others just glittered, but let's not spoil the melodrama.
Something about the way the black tube (protrusions of uncertain application which unfolded from the rear of the cylinder, lights flashing faster as the bar reached the halfway mark) glistened under the sodium lighting of the laboratory made the few technicians present turn away in sick revulsion - it seemed to be made of a substance denied being organic at the last minute. Only one dark figure stood unfazed by the RESPAWN device as it reconstructed its master from the pattern stored in its database and from his recent thoughs, a figure standing in a black suit of combat armour looking for all the world like that of Drax Elite molTare Erda.
The dark one was looking at the pipes on the crown of the machine, albeit only insofar as his gaze inside the faceted helmet was directed that way rather than any other. He, however, was focusing on things rather different to and more important than the bundle of wire and tubing.
'Erda...'
At that moment a noise from the RESPAWN point caused the ominous figure to look around, sparing his terrified and unwilling audience of techies a rambling, bitter and self-pitying internal monologue. And there was much rejoicing. The noise which had snapped the obsidian observer out of his approaching rant was a bleep from the cylinder some few feet away, followed by a jet of steam venting from the centre of the machine's top. Glancing at the readout panel where the progress bar had been, he read the single word, 'Complete'. His eyes flicked across to the door of the machine as it opened and the Lanreau stepped out looking decidedly ill. He spoke, the words shockingly loud in the sudden quiet.
'Welcome back to the land of the living, elf-boy. Dodn't expect you to be trying your new toy so soon - I take it you were somewhat... careless?'
The pointy-eared Eya tried to speak, but failed miserably.
'Having trouble there, elf-boy? Don't worry, it'll pass eventually.'
'Wh.. wh..'
'What's that?' the soldier grinned mercilessly, 'Speak up, I can't quite make that out. Something important, elf-boy?'
'Wh.. wh.. WHY DO YE BOTH INSIST ON CALLING ME ELF-BOY?'
'Both? Ah, you would mean Erda... well, he and I are about as different as two people can be, so naturally there are a great many similarities between us. Candidly though, I do it just to irritate you.'
'Aye, so a'thought.' The resurrected party had regained his composure somewhat. 'So who were the three as attacked me today? 'Course, a ken well that hellcat Clan Clan, an' a reckon the git that blew m'head off might ha' been Starwind if the tales speak true, but who was the walkin' fortress wearin' the same armour as you?'
'That would be the reason I'm here. He is molTare Erda, and I'm helping you ensure he fails. then, I shal hunt him down and kill him and kill him and kill him until he dies; then when he is dead... I shall kill him some more! Bwahaha!'
'Oh aye. Friend o'yourn, then.'
'Oh, yes. A friend. A very old friend. Now, to work. Let's use the might of your evil empire to seriously inconvenience the newly-expanded crew of the Outlaw Star...'
As the two walked from the lab, the strange Drax-armoured one turned to look at the silent RESPAWN point.
'You know, I might just put Erda's pattern into that machine, and kill him a few times a week every week of my life. You know what they say, after all: revenge is a dish best served repeatedly...'