Disclaimer: Hey folks! You know the drill so I won't bother you with
beating a dead horse, so on with the fun!
On board the Prometheus Star, a dark, skeletal shaped figure leaped from column to column in the massive anti-chamber with animal-like grace and machine precision, whistling Evanescence's "Bring Me to Life", it's features consumed in shadow. It leapt up into the rafters; back down again, and then came to a stop halfway down the column at the far right of the chamber, clinging to it upside down. It slid a small panel aside, a small key code panel underneath. The key code panel had sixteen keys, a bizarre glyph on each key, and a rectangular prism on the right edge, with a grove running its length. It tapped out an almost musical code on the keys, then took out a key card and swiped it through the card reader. A two toned beep followed after a few seconds. To the left of the open panel, the metal of the column seemed to melt and ripple like water, like something was rising from beneath. It was a long flat green computer screen with a robotic eye above it. The figure flipped over and turned so it was right side up, and placed a vicious looking hand on the green screen, it's wrist on the bottom edge, it's long blade-like claws just touching the edge of the six-foot screen. A bright green light came from the upper edge and slowly moved down the length of the panel, scanning the creature's hand. The creature lifted its face to the robotic eye, which promptly scanned its left eye with a laser beam, then compared it's components and structure to what was recorded in the computer data banks, and after verifying a match, beeped again, followed by a metallic female voice that dead-panned, "Welcome Doctor Terror-Core Technocrom".
The being, known as Terror-Core Technocrom, smiled to himself and purred, with a cool-as-wine, slight German accent, "Thank you, Frauline", and spider crawled back up the column toward a concealed hatch that had opened up after the security check was completed. When he reached the hatch, Terror-Core seemed to tense for a minute, then the edge of the hole and pulled himself through the open hole in the ceiling. He rolled onto his back, and then flipped to his feet. He was greeted with soft lighting from several lamps around the concealed room, but despite its lack of intensity, perfectly illuminated Doctor Technocrom's inhuman form.
He stood straight up to his maximum, a startling fifteen feet, then arched his back, two rows of long, curved, silvery metal blades standing straight from his armored back, rattling against each other as he did so, connected by large metal ball joints. He swished his ridiculously long tail back and forth, the entire length encased in artificial vertebrae, the tail ending in a nasty looking spear head as long as Technocrom's fingers. The fake vertebrae ran right up his spine to the base of his skull, glistening like mirrors in the soft light. His back was armored in plates or armor resembling insect shells, a deep purplish color that was shade to a fresh red grape color that stopped about mid-riff. His pectoral muscles were armored in silver, deep purple metal skin underneath. The arms were completely silver, excluding the palms of the hands and biceps, which were an armored plated purple. His head was saurian with a huge, sweeping V- shaped face piece the only decoration, two pairs of cold eyes staring out through slits in the mask which was also silver, but the jaw, throat, and neck were armored in purple plating similar to his back plating.
He worked his talons for a minute, then waked over to a massive black oak desk, designed just for him, walked behind the desk, and pulled out the huge leather cushioned, high-back chair that was also designed just for him. The chair had two open slits in the back for Technocrom to slide the blades on his back through so to avoid ruining such an expensive piece of furniture, and to avoid becoming stuck in the process. He settled down gently into the heavily cushioned chair and let out a deep, happy sigh. He never thought things could go so well in his whole existence as they were going now.
His personal masterpiece, the genetically enhanced, and mystically perfected "Death God", Hurakan, was playing his part masterfully, and hasn't realized that he's BEING PLAYED. Those two biomechanical thugs working for him are pretty impressive...for a novice inventor. That poor sucker had no idea that his current form and powers were given him just as a test of Technocrom's talent, as well as a plan to get rid of the loony's who foolishly decide to double-cross Technocrom, the guy who FUCKIN' CREATED THEIR WHOLE RACE from some trace amino acids discovered in the primordial ocean of their world, then as an after thought, tweaked up the genetic material to produce the modern beings known as Hynaku. They hadn't just left him out to dry, but the guy that Technocrom worked for...who never ceased to give Technocrom the creeps. Hurakan was the method to pay them back for letting down "The Master". Technocrom really felt sorry for the bugs, because that's all they were to The Master, bugs, something to be crushed underfoot when they became a nuisance.
He decided to simply relax, kick back and enjoy the show. He propped his feet up on the desk, the bony finger-like digits of his feet curling up and stretching out again, like fingers being flexed. His feet were as long as his arms and were completely obscuring his eyes from the soft light of the Victorian-styled lamps, which he had bought at an auction several hundred years ago. Before he went to the auction, he had entertained himself with some working girl in a dark part of old London. She was sliced up like a thanks giving turkey, but tasted even better! Well, what was removed from her tasted better than thanksgiving turkey. Technocrom at the time thought nothing of his little escapade, until the local authorities made something of it. After a few more outings, Scotland Yard began the hunt for the ever elusive "Jack the Ripper". They actually thought it was some royal piss ant that had been doing the deeds! Ha! Those idiots couldn't find a lake if they sat on the bottom of it! All the happy reminiscing had worked up an incredible thirst, and with that in mind, Technocrom rapped his knuckles against the desk, a drawer sliding open, and a bottle of tequila rising out the drawer, slick with moisture with a waft of mist swirling around the bottle like a snake coiling around its prey. The doctor took hold of the extra large bottle in one hand and released the clamps that were holding onto the bottle. He carefully lifted the bottle from its holder, and raised it to eye level, his expression turning sour as he swore, and "Damn, they left out the fucking worm again! How can they call this tequila if you don't have the worm! Schist! Ah well". Technocrom clicked his tongue, activating a robotic arm, which presented a large shot glass to him, which he promptly took. After popping the cork in the bottle, he poured himself a shot, which he immediately threw down his throat. He growled at the fiery burning in his throat and deep down in his chest. He loved that feeling, made him feel really alive, and made him feel like he was getting cleaned from the inside out with a flamethrower, like he was....human. He stopped that thought process right there, realizing that it was dangerous to think like that right now, but one day...he'd do more than just dream about it, he'd BE it.
He poured himself another shot and tossed that one back, then did so five or six more times before smiling to himself. He flicked his wrist a couple of times, feeling a plate pull away from his wrist, and a long needle spring out. He glanced down at a computer screen that had slid out of a hidden slot, which blinked on, the inside of the Prometheus Star's master chamber, watching silently as the robotic physicians employed by the core computer heal and restore the trio that had gotten the harsh sun tan that Technocrom had designed as part of the security system. He studied each one of the trespassers with intense interest; especially the attractive young lady that had accompanied the green skinned Martian wanna-be and the triclops with the shaolin outfit. He inserted the needle into a tiny port at one corner of the screen. He was going to have some fun with her. He took control of one of the robotic arms closest to her and smiled with twisted intent, his gleaming fangs shining a perfect white. He directed the three-fingered hand of the arm to begin groping the girl. Another arm was directed to slowly slide her dress up in a slow and teasing fashion, even as he proceeded to toss back about twelve more shots of tequila. 'Slow and steady can be applied in so many situations', thought the perverse cyborg as he watched the robotic arms begin to molest the girl, Technocrom slobbering and drooling like a ravenous wolf.
Just as one of the arms was about to bring her dress above her chest, the salivating monster-man got a twenty five thousand volt wakeup call right through the interface jack. Technocrom writhed and thrashed, trying to pull the interface needle out of the jack. A fierce and powerful voice exploded inside of Technocrom's mind. "FILTHY WRETCH! YOU DARE TO PLEASURE YOURSELF WITH A HELPLESS CHILD?! BURN, MOLGREL, BURN IN PITS OF HELL!" Technocrom felt like his nervous system was being barbecued, and roared defiance, and yanked at the jack for all his worth, tearing the screen, and a portion of the desk surface, right off. Wires sparked and caught fire as Technocrom flopped to the floor face first. Even though he found that his organics felt like charred meat, and probably smelled like it too, he was savagely furious, and, fighting through the pain, and forgetting all rational thought, launched to his feet, roared once more and was about to download a fatal computer bug into the Prometheus Star when an icy cold voice seemed to seep into the back of his mind and coolly say, "No".
Technocrom froze in place, like a stone statue, his face portraying a rather unsettling mix of shock and fear. He heard that same evil voice, audibly this time, as though the owner of the voice was in the room with him. He felt the warmth go right out of the room, replaced with a cold so bitter, Technocrom felt it right through his armor and right down to his super alloy laced skeleton. He felt like he would shatter into so many frost bitten fragments, and if not for the knowledge that his machine half could withstand this kind of cold, though just barely, he would have sworn that he had been flash frozen like a massive chunk of meat in a slaughter house.
"Now, now, good doctor, there's no need to get all upset with some conservative minded conglomerate of computer chips and plating. If one wishes to enjoy the favor of a lady's company", the chasm deep, ice-cold voice soothed, a pair of gleaming golden eyes opening in the shadows to Technocrom's left, in addition being six and a half feet above Technocrom's full height. As Technocrom's fearful gaze focused on the eyes in the shadows, a pinpoint of light appeared above his desk, then flashed suddenly, leaving the girl known as Videl hovering above the desk momentarily, before she unceremoniously crashed onto the desk, hard, rolled off, and flopped like a boneless fish at Technocrom's feet. The voice finished with a husky whisper, "One must be willing to be bold and do the deed oneself. Oh, tequila, I'm thirsty", the owner noticing the bottle of tequila. Instead of walking over to get the bottle, a long blue squid-like tentacle, without the suckers though, and a pointed tip flew out of the shadows and whipped around the bottle, wrapping around it, and whisked back to the icy voiced being concealed in the shadows. After a second, the sound of glass breaking hit Technocrom's ears, startling him out of his shell shock, and smiled a half nervous, half wicked smile as the words the hidden visitor had spoken began to sink in.
He nervously eyed the shadowed being and managed to stutter off, "T-t-thank y-y-y-you, M-m-m-master!" and looked down at the young woman at his feet. He quickly pointed to an oil painting on the far wall, the painting rising up on concealed hinges. Underneath the painting was what looked like a safe, which flung itself open, but instead of money inside, it was more tequila! Three racks of bottles, all tequila, levitated out of the safe, and floated over to the twisted cyborg. He felt something psychically pop the corks on the bottles in the first rack, and smiled. The Master may be a demonic creep, but he sure knows how to treat a guy! He grabbed a bottle and chugged down the contents in a few quick, massive gulps, then did the same thing to the rest of the bottles in the first, and, quite hurriedly, the second rack. After polishing off the last bottle of the second rack, Technocrom was very much sloshed out of his bionic German mind, mumbling something incoherent about lederhosen and a milkmaid named Greta, then focused his swaying attention back to the young woman he planned to make beg like a bitch in heat. He smiled like a demented maniac and held his hands out to his sides, his blade like claws shrinking down into long, tapered digits with tiny, if not unnoticeable sharpened nails instead of actual claws. As he tittered and tottered this way and that, the drunken monster smashed an empty bottle into his own forehead, and burst out laughing like some kind of idiot as he fell smack on his metal ass. He was in stitches so quick, even the world's worst psychiatrist would realize that this guy wasn't right upstairs.
As he chortled away, his armor began peeling off of him like the shed skin of a serpent. It slide out from under the cackling lunatic and folded into what looked like a suit case and floated up to the desk, landing on the damaged office furniture without a sound. Terror-Core Technocrom was now as naked as a jaybird, his lightly tanned skin exposed, as well as the interface implants used to control his armor, and the occasional robotic component that emerged from underneath the skin. He calmed down for a split second, then suddenly launched to his feet and scooped up Videl, disappearing down a passageway behind the desk that had been concealed by a hologram.
The shadowed presence did a double take at the strange antics of his newest pet, an eyebrow arched so high, it almost touched the being's forehead. The being stepped out of the shadows just enough for it to stick its head out and look down the hidden passageway that had just been concealed by a hologram again. The golden eyes narrowed mischievously through the eyeholes of a face guard, a smile of pearly white, razor sharp teeth, dominated by four thick, long fangs spreading across a face of deep blue skin with spiky scales covering the cheeks and eyebrows. It wore a rather simple helmet made of a deep blue metal, with a massive, curving, swept back V shaped face guard, similar to Technocrom's, but much more pronounced and quite a bit bigger over the face that stopped halfway down the razor blade straight, high-bridged nose. There were two small down angled fins, also swept back slightly like the face piece, poking out from behind the plate at the checks. A gravity-defying bang of neon pink hair poked out from under the rim of the face piece, taking some of the edge off the entity's appearance, but not much.
"Damn, that boy got to be easing up on the sauce or he going to fuck up his insides even worse than his head is...no, wait, that's not possible", the being popped off in a rather higher-pitched tone than he had used before, vaguely sounding like one of those rappers that your parents complain about corrupting the minds of young people. He shock his head and chuckled to himself and simply faded away, his voice becoming fainter and fainter the more he faded away, "Soon the Hynaku will be but a soon forgotten memory, Technocrom's test will be over, and I'll have three new fighters to add to my 'Engines of Destruction'. I can hardly wait".
Author's Notes: Yeah, I know, this is a really friggin short chappy, but got a serious case of writer's block, but be not afraid, my loyal ones, For this story is just starting to heat up! If you thought this story was well on the go you were wrong! More surprises and twists, action and adventure, weirdness and stuff that's so fucked up, you'd swear I was on crack half the time! Let the adventure continue in "The Dark Palace: One way ticket to Hell! Pack light and Enjoy you stay!"
On board the Prometheus Star, a dark, skeletal shaped figure leaped from column to column in the massive anti-chamber with animal-like grace and machine precision, whistling Evanescence's "Bring Me to Life", it's features consumed in shadow. It leapt up into the rafters; back down again, and then came to a stop halfway down the column at the far right of the chamber, clinging to it upside down. It slid a small panel aside, a small key code panel underneath. The key code panel had sixteen keys, a bizarre glyph on each key, and a rectangular prism on the right edge, with a grove running its length. It tapped out an almost musical code on the keys, then took out a key card and swiped it through the card reader. A two toned beep followed after a few seconds. To the left of the open panel, the metal of the column seemed to melt and ripple like water, like something was rising from beneath. It was a long flat green computer screen with a robotic eye above it. The figure flipped over and turned so it was right side up, and placed a vicious looking hand on the green screen, it's wrist on the bottom edge, it's long blade-like claws just touching the edge of the six-foot screen. A bright green light came from the upper edge and slowly moved down the length of the panel, scanning the creature's hand. The creature lifted its face to the robotic eye, which promptly scanned its left eye with a laser beam, then compared it's components and structure to what was recorded in the computer data banks, and after verifying a match, beeped again, followed by a metallic female voice that dead-panned, "Welcome Doctor Terror-Core Technocrom".
The being, known as Terror-Core Technocrom, smiled to himself and purred, with a cool-as-wine, slight German accent, "Thank you, Frauline", and spider crawled back up the column toward a concealed hatch that had opened up after the security check was completed. When he reached the hatch, Terror-Core seemed to tense for a minute, then the edge of the hole and pulled himself through the open hole in the ceiling. He rolled onto his back, and then flipped to his feet. He was greeted with soft lighting from several lamps around the concealed room, but despite its lack of intensity, perfectly illuminated Doctor Technocrom's inhuman form.
He stood straight up to his maximum, a startling fifteen feet, then arched his back, two rows of long, curved, silvery metal blades standing straight from his armored back, rattling against each other as he did so, connected by large metal ball joints. He swished his ridiculously long tail back and forth, the entire length encased in artificial vertebrae, the tail ending in a nasty looking spear head as long as Technocrom's fingers. The fake vertebrae ran right up his spine to the base of his skull, glistening like mirrors in the soft light. His back was armored in plates or armor resembling insect shells, a deep purplish color that was shade to a fresh red grape color that stopped about mid-riff. His pectoral muscles were armored in silver, deep purple metal skin underneath. The arms were completely silver, excluding the palms of the hands and biceps, which were an armored plated purple. His head was saurian with a huge, sweeping V- shaped face piece the only decoration, two pairs of cold eyes staring out through slits in the mask which was also silver, but the jaw, throat, and neck were armored in purple plating similar to his back plating.
He worked his talons for a minute, then waked over to a massive black oak desk, designed just for him, walked behind the desk, and pulled out the huge leather cushioned, high-back chair that was also designed just for him. The chair had two open slits in the back for Technocrom to slide the blades on his back through so to avoid ruining such an expensive piece of furniture, and to avoid becoming stuck in the process. He settled down gently into the heavily cushioned chair and let out a deep, happy sigh. He never thought things could go so well in his whole existence as they were going now.
His personal masterpiece, the genetically enhanced, and mystically perfected "Death God", Hurakan, was playing his part masterfully, and hasn't realized that he's BEING PLAYED. Those two biomechanical thugs working for him are pretty impressive...for a novice inventor. That poor sucker had no idea that his current form and powers were given him just as a test of Technocrom's talent, as well as a plan to get rid of the loony's who foolishly decide to double-cross Technocrom, the guy who FUCKIN' CREATED THEIR WHOLE RACE from some trace amino acids discovered in the primordial ocean of their world, then as an after thought, tweaked up the genetic material to produce the modern beings known as Hynaku. They hadn't just left him out to dry, but the guy that Technocrom worked for...who never ceased to give Technocrom the creeps. Hurakan was the method to pay them back for letting down "The Master". Technocrom really felt sorry for the bugs, because that's all they were to The Master, bugs, something to be crushed underfoot when they became a nuisance.
He decided to simply relax, kick back and enjoy the show. He propped his feet up on the desk, the bony finger-like digits of his feet curling up and stretching out again, like fingers being flexed. His feet were as long as his arms and were completely obscuring his eyes from the soft light of the Victorian-styled lamps, which he had bought at an auction several hundred years ago. Before he went to the auction, he had entertained himself with some working girl in a dark part of old London. She was sliced up like a thanks giving turkey, but tasted even better! Well, what was removed from her tasted better than thanksgiving turkey. Technocrom at the time thought nothing of his little escapade, until the local authorities made something of it. After a few more outings, Scotland Yard began the hunt for the ever elusive "Jack the Ripper". They actually thought it was some royal piss ant that had been doing the deeds! Ha! Those idiots couldn't find a lake if they sat on the bottom of it! All the happy reminiscing had worked up an incredible thirst, and with that in mind, Technocrom rapped his knuckles against the desk, a drawer sliding open, and a bottle of tequila rising out the drawer, slick with moisture with a waft of mist swirling around the bottle like a snake coiling around its prey. The doctor took hold of the extra large bottle in one hand and released the clamps that were holding onto the bottle. He carefully lifted the bottle from its holder, and raised it to eye level, his expression turning sour as he swore, and "Damn, they left out the fucking worm again! How can they call this tequila if you don't have the worm! Schist! Ah well". Technocrom clicked his tongue, activating a robotic arm, which presented a large shot glass to him, which he promptly took. After popping the cork in the bottle, he poured himself a shot, which he immediately threw down his throat. He growled at the fiery burning in his throat and deep down in his chest. He loved that feeling, made him feel really alive, and made him feel like he was getting cleaned from the inside out with a flamethrower, like he was....human. He stopped that thought process right there, realizing that it was dangerous to think like that right now, but one day...he'd do more than just dream about it, he'd BE it.
He poured himself another shot and tossed that one back, then did so five or six more times before smiling to himself. He flicked his wrist a couple of times, feeling a plate pull away from his wrist, and a long needle spring out. He glanced down at a computer screen that had slid out of a hidden slot, which blinked on, the inside of the Prometheus Star's master chamber, watching silently as the robotic physicians employed by the core computer heal and restore the trio that had gotten the harsh sun tan that Technocrom had designed as part of the security system. He studied each one of the trespassers with intense interest; especially the attractive young lady that had accompanied the green skinned Martian wanna-be and the triclops with the shaolin outfit. He inserted the needle into a tiny port at one corner of the screen. He was going to have some fun with her. He took control of one of the robotic arms closest to her and smiled with twisted intent, his gleaming fangs shining a perfect white. He directed the three-fingered hand of the arm to begin groping the girl. Another arm was directed to slowly slide her dress up in a slow and teasing fashion, even as he proceeded to toss back about twelve more shots of tequila. 'Slow and steady can be applied in so many situations', thought the perverse cyborg as he watched the robotic arms begin to molest the girl, Technocrom slobbering and drooling like a ravenous wolf.
Just as one of the arms was about to bring her dress above her chest, the salivating monster-man got a twenty five thousand volt wakeup call right through the interface jack. Technocrom writhed and thrashed, trying to pull the interface needle out of the jack. A fierce and powerful voice exploded inside of Technocrom's mind. "FILTHY WRETCH! YOU DARE TO PLEASURE YOURSELF WITH A HELPLESS CHILD?! BURN, MOLGREL, BURN IN PITS OF HELL!" Technocrom felt like his nervous system was being barbecued, and roared defiance, and yanked at the jack for all his worth, tearing the screen, and a portion of the desk surface, right off. Wires sparked and caught fire as Technocrom flopped to the floor face first. Even though he found that his organics felt like charred meat, and probably smelled like it too, he was savagely furious, and, fighting through the pain, and forgetting all rational thought, launched to his feet, roared once more and was about to download a fatal computer bug into the Prometheus Star when an icy cold voice seemed to seep into the back of his mind and coolly say, "No".
Technocrom froze in place, like a stone statue, his face portraying a rather unsettling mix of shock and fear. He heard that same evil voice, audibly this time, as though the owner of the voice was in the room with him. He felt the warmth go right out of the room, replaced with a cold so bitter, Technocrom felt it right through his armor and right down to his super alloy laced skeleton. He felt like he would shatter into so many frost bitten fragments, and if not for the knowledge that his machine half could withstand this kind of cold, though just barely, he would have sworn that he had been flash frozen like a massive chunk of meat in a slaughter house.
"Now, now, good doctor, there's no need to get all upset with some conservative minded conglomerate of computer chips and plating. If one wishes to enjoy the favor of a lady's company", the chasm deep, ice-cold voice soothed, a pair of gleaming golden eyes opening in the shadows to Technocrom's left, in addition being six and a half feet above Technocrom's full height. As Technocrom's fearful gaze focused on the eyes in the shadows, a pinpoint of light appeared above his desk, then flashed suddenly, leaving the girl known as Videl hovering above the desk momentarily, before she unceremoniously crashed onto the desk, hard, rolled off, and flopped like a boneless fish at Technocrom's feet. The voice finished with a husky whisper, "One must be willing to be bold and do the deed oneself. Oh, tequila, I'm thirsty", the owner noticing the bottle of tequila. Instead of walking over to get the bottle, a long blue squid-like tentacle, without the suckers though, and a pointed tip flew out of the shadows and whipped around the bottle, wrapping around it, and whisked back to the icy voiced being concealed in the shadows. After a second, the sound of glass breaking hit Technocrom's ears, startling him out of his shell shock, and smiled a half nervous, half wicked smile as the words the hidden visitor had spoken began to sink in.
He nervously eyed the shadowed being and managed to stutter off, "T-t-thank y-y-y-you, M-m-m-master!" and looked down at the young woman at his feet. He quickly pointed to an oil painting on the far wall, the painting rising up on concealed hinges. Underneath the painting was what looked like a safe, which flung itself open, but instead of money inside, it was more tequila! Three racks of bottles, all tequila, levitated out of the safe, and floated over to the twisted cyborg. He felt something psychically pop the corks on the bottles in the first rack, and smiled. The Master may be a demonic creep, but he sure knows how to treat a guy! He grabbed a bottle and chugged down the contents in a few quick, massive gulps, then did the same thing to the rest of the bottles in the first, and, quite hurriedly, the second rack. After polishing off the last bottle of the second rack, Technocrom was very much sloshed out of his bionic German mind, mumbling something incoherent about lederhosen and a milkmaid named Greta, then focused his swaying attention back to the young woman he planned to make beg like a bitch in heat. He smiled like a demented maniac and held his hands out to his sides, his blade like claws shrinking down into long, tapered digits with tiny, if not unnoticeable sharpened nails instead of actual claws. As he tittered and tottered this way and that, the drunken monster smashed an empty bottle into his own forehead, and burst out laughing like some kind of idiot as he fell smack on his metal ass. He was in stitches so quick, even the world's worst psychiatrist would realize that this guy wasn't right upstairs.
As he chortled away, his armor began peeling off of him like the shed skin of a serpent. It slide out from under the cackling lunatic and folded into what looked like a suit case and floated up to the desk, landing on the damaged office furniture without a sound. Terror-Core Technocrom was now as naked as a jaybird, his lightly tanned skin exposed, as well as the interface implants used to control his armor, and the occasional robotic component that emerged from underneath the skin. He calmed down for a split second, then suddenly launched to his feet and scooped up Videl, disappearing down a passageway behind the desk that had been concealed by a hologram.
The shadowed presence did a double take at the strange antics of his newest pet, an eyebrow arched so high, it almost touched the being's forehead. The being stepped out of the shadows just enough for it to stick its head out and look down the hidden passageway that had just been concealed by a hologram again. The golden eyes narrowed mischievously through the eyeholes of a face guard, a smile of pearly white, razor sharp teeth, dominated by four thick, long fangs spreading across a face of deep blue skin with spiky scales covering the cheeks and eyebrows. It wore a rather simple helmet made of a deep blue metal, with a massive, curving, swept back V shaped face guard, similar to Technocrom's, but much more pronounced and quite a bit bigger over the face that stopped halfway down the razor blade straight, high-bridged nose. There were two small down angled fins, also swept back slightly like the face piece, poking out from behind the plate at the checks. A gravity-defying bang of neon pink hair poked out from under the rim of the face piece, taking some of the edge off the entity's appearance, but not much.
"Damn, that boy got to be easing up on the sauce or he going to fuck up his insides even worse than his head is...no, wait, that's not possible", the being popped off in a rather higher-pitched tone than he had used before, vaguely sounding like one of those rappers that your parents complain about corrupting the minds of young people. He shock his head and chuckled to himself and simply faded away, his voice becoming fainter and fainter the more he faded away, "Soon the Hynaku will be but a soon forgotten memory, Technocrom's test will be over, and I'll have three new fighters to add to my 'Engines of Destruction'. I can hardly wait".
Author's Notes: Yeah, I know, this is a really friggin short chappy, but got a serious case of writer's block, but be not afraid, my loyal ones, For this story is just starting to heat up! If you thought this story was well on the go you were wrong! More surprises and twists, action and adventure, weirdness and stuff that's so fucked up, you'd swear I was on crack half the time! Let the adventure continue in "The Dark Palace: One way ticket to Hell! Pack light and Enjoy you stay!"