And it's here! 8D Chapter... I've been working on this story so hard, I don't even remember what chapter this is. I got it done, that's the important part.
A new beast makes its debut here. And this one is even worse than the last. I hope you guys are ready for this, cause this is truly some of my best work in my opinion. :D
Things are heating up, and we might just figure out where these beasts are coming from. Maybe.
Hogarth pulled the joystick on the remote and watched as the plane flew over his head. The buzzing from the plane's turbines whistled through the air, filling the forest in a low hum. On a rock next to him stood 3, 4 and 5. The twins waved to the passenger riding on the toy plane. 9 glanced down and waved to the twins, 5 and Hogarth. The panoramic view of the forest made him feel more alive than ever. He figured this was what Hogarth felt when he flew with the Giant.
"Coming in for a landing," said Hogarth. He pulled the lever, standing back a few feet and watched the plane.
The plane descended and 9's gaze turned from the cloud-scudded sky to the passing colorful trees, painting the forest with its autumn colors. The plane's wheel touched the ground and it slide across the forest floor. The turbines slowly stopped spinning. 9 jumped out of the toy plane, running towards his friends.
"How was that?," asked Hogarth.
"Fun," said 9. "I was on top of the world."
"Ain't it great?"
"Definitely."
"Who's next?" Hogarthn held up the remote, looking at the twins and 5. The one-eyed stitchpunk shrank away while 3 stepped up, raising a hand.
"You wanna go next?," he asked. 3 nodded. "Okay."
3 traipsed up to the plane, climbed in and made himself comfortable. He turned to Hogarth, giving him a nod.
"Here goes," said Hogarth. He pulled on the joystick. The turbines began buzzing to life and the plane skidded across the ground and took off.
"Whoa," said 9, trudging up the rock 5 and 4 were standing on. He stood beside 5, hand over his forehead. He and the one-eyed sticthpunk watched 3 fly overhead of them. They could see 3 waving to them.
"He seems to be enjoying himself," quipped Hogarth, glimpsing at the stitchpunks. He turned back to the plane to make sure 3 was all right.
"5," said 9, "you should really try it; it's amazing."
5 wrung his hands together, shoulders slumping.
"I...I don't know," he replied. His voice drench with nervousness. 4 looked past 9, catching 5's trepidation. She glanced at 9 for an answer.
"Don't worry," he told her, "he might come around."
4 shrugged and glanced back at the sky. The toy plane whizzed by with 3 waving to her, a smile on his face.
"Who's next?," queried Hogarth, turning around.
4 quickly stepped up and raised her hand. Hogarth pulled the joystick and the plane descended. The plane landed near a tree, and 3 jumped off, optics flickering. He reached his friends and his sister wrapped her arms around him. The twins exchanged a few hugs and flickers. After breaking the hug, 4 sprinted toward the plane.
"Ready?," asked Hogarth.
4 settled in the seat a little more comfortably before answering. She sat down a little more squarely and turned to Hogarth, giving him a flash of light. Hogarth took that as yes and he pulled the joystick. In seconds, 4 took off.
"You should really go next, 5," said Hogarth.
"No thanks," retorted 5, head hanging down.
"You should," said 9. The one-eyed stitchpunk turned away, rubbing his arm.
3 took a look at him, stitched brow raised in curiosity.
"I'm not going to take no for an answer, 5," quoth Hogarth. "I'm telling you, you should try it." He crouched down next to the rock. "You'll never get a chance like this again."
"How do you know that?," he asked.
"What if when you guys get back to your world," began Hogarth, "you begin to wish you had?"
"Maybe not," replied 5. "Maybe we'll find one back home and...and... 9 can use the controller and..." He trailed off when he couldn't come up with a good excuse.
Hogarth raised a brow. "I think what you're afraid of is not flying, but falling," he said.
5 glanced up, his single optic blinking. 9 and 3 gave him confused looks.
"It's not that flying is the thing that scares you," said Hogarth, "it's that you're afraid of getting hurt." He stole a glance at the plane, seeing 4 up on the plane, smiling and just enjoying herself. He'd have to bring her down soon, so he'd ought to wrap up his conversation quickly. "I felt the same thing when I was flying with the Giant. Was I scared? Of course I was. Did I die? No. But when the Giant crashed I thought I was."
"But you're not," quipped 5, "and you survived."
"I did," repeated Hogarth, "I survived and here I am." He became downcast. "But everyday I long for the day he'll come back and we can have those adventures again." He gave him a sympathetic smile. "Is there anything you miss back in your world?"
"Of course there is," he answered. "I miss building inventions with 2, I miss spar practice with 7." His smile grew wider as he glimpsed at the sky. "I miss drawing with 6. I even miss 1 and 8." He let out a dry chuckle.
9 clapped his shoulder. "I miss them, too," he said, smiling. Beside him, 3 smiled and gave him a nod.
5 looked away in thought. He mulled over Hogarth's words. Despite not being humans themselves, the only thing that made them human was the soul. It's what powered them and brought them to life. The soul was what separated them from the machines. Although he and 9 and the twins were mechanical, the soul was what made them cognizant and sentient. Something the beasts would never be.
Hogarth brought the plane down for a landing. As soon as it touched down, 4 scrambled out of the plane, sprinting to her friends.
"So?," said Hogarth. "Wanna ride in the plane?"
5 looked at the toy airplane. What Hogarth said to him was true in all places, but did he necessarily have to? It wasn't mandatory. Hogarth did give him the choice. After all, it wasn't that he wouldn't have this again.
"I would trade every comic book in my collection to go on a flight with the Giant," said Hogarth. "And I know you'd trade every invention to return to 2 and all your friends."
5's face twisted in grief. He missed all those moments with 2, and he would do anything to to be welcomed back into his arms. Him, and 6, 7, and 1, and 8. He hated to admit it, but his days spent here, away from them, made him wish to be back home desperately.
"You're right," said 5. He glanced at Hogarth, face brightening. He trotted down the rock and approached the toy plane. "I want to do this."
"Really?," said Hogarth. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I was practically pressuring you—"
"No, it's all right," assured 5, waving him off. "I'm going to do this." He climbed on to the plane and settled in the seat.
"Okay," said Hogarth.
"You're going to love it, 5!," shouted 9, hands cupped around his mouth. The twins flickered to him excitedly.
"Ready?," said Hogarth, hand on the joystick.
"Ready," repeated 5, facing him. He turned to look at the dusty road, ready for takeoff.
Hogarth pulled the joystick, and the turbines buzzed to life. The place slowly ran across the trail. In a few seconds, the plane was up in the air. 5 smiled and looked over his shoulder. He chuckled.
"Yeah!," shouted Hogarth, standing up. "Woohoo!"
5's laugh was heard from up above.
"I told you you were going to love it!," hollered 9. Whether 5 heard him or not, he was happy to see him enjoying himself.
3 and 4 recorded the flight. This was definitely something they were going to show 7 when they return home.
"Hey, 5!," yelled Hogarth. "How you doing up there?"
"Great!," hollered 5. The plane flew over him and the stitchpunks. The whirring of the turbines filling the forest.
In about five minutes, Hogarth brought the plane down and it was soon time to leave. 5 clambered out of the plane and joined 9 and the twins on the rock.
"You looked amazing up there," said 9.
"I was, wasn't I?," cheeped 5, sheepishly.
"The twins recorded everything." 9 jerked his thumb to 3 and 4.
"Really?," quipped 5. The twins smiled and nodded.
"We'll show it to 2 and 7," said 9. "Heh, I bet 2 won't believe it when we show him."
5 chuckled nervously.
"Come on," said Hogarth, kneeling down, holding the open backpack for them, "it's time to go."
The stitchpunks scrambled inside the backpack, which was crowded by the baseball bat Hogarth brought along. The reason for bringing it is so he can have something to fight against a beast, in case one showed up. He and the four ragdolls have been in the forest for an hour and a half and he hasn't seen one...yet. Hogarth wasn't going to take his chances, so he brought the bat. It would have to do since he couldn't bring a shovel or a sickle with him.
After carefully storing the toy plane and controller, Hogarth waltzed over to his bike,which was leaned against a tree. He picked up his helmet, placed it on, and got on his bike. From there, he rode off.
The leaves fell as he pedaled through the dusty trail. Hogarth breathed in the crisp autumn air, something the stitchpunks probably never experienced. He couldn't wait to show them all the fun he had in the last few years, him and his mother and Dean taking walks through this forest, jumping in leaf piles, heading home for a mug of hot chocolate. Hogarth's favorite thing to do in the fall was watch the sunset from his bedroom window, or out on the lake. They both had a beautiful view and catching the setting sun disperse all these bold colors were a treat for the eye.
He looked over his shoulders to speak to the stitchpunks when a noise got his attention.
"Did you hear that?," he asked.
"What?," queried 5.
"It sounded like..." Hogarth listened for it again. It was probably just his imagination.
Then he heard it again.
"Sounded like it came from over there," he said, turning to his right. He stopped pedaling and looked in that direction. All he saw was a mishmash of bushes capping the trees. But something was definitely out there.
The four stitchpunks craned their necks over the half-open backpack.
The noise was louder now, like whatever was hiding in those bushes was going to jump out of there any minute.
Hogarth pulled out the baseball bat, and held it, ready to hit whatever was there.
Loud footsteps crushed twigs and dried leaves. It didn't sound like a person, but he could make out...mechanical sounds.
A roar thundered through the ambience. Hogarth's entire body shivered. The stitchpunks ducked back inside the backpack.
The bushes rustled, and Hogarth saw an enormous shape make its way through the greenery. Hogarth's mouth fell open as the machine slunk out, crushing the bushes with its enormous paws.
A great bear skull gaped at him with one single glowing red eye. Two pipes were seen on each side of the machine's back. Some fur covered the machine's sides, exposing a few ribs. The legs were comprised of rusted water pipes. The claws were made of discarded sickles. Hogarth could see, through the ribs beneath the fur, that there was some kind of battery. That's what probably powered it.
"Hogarth," spoke 9, peeking out of the backpack. "What do we do?"
Hogarth couldn't answer. He was too gripped on the beast to speak. The baseball bat he held suddenly wasn't looking very lethal anymore. He never expected this. Not a great, big machine. It towered over him like a real bear, and Hogarth's confidence was dissipating.
He put the bat back in his backpack and pedaled away. As soon as he did, the machine chased after him.
Hogarth looked over his shoulder, eyes as wide as dinner plates. He huffed breath after breath. He couldn't head home, so the only thing to do was distract it; lead it away. He swerved to the right and rode from there.
"I really don't know what I'm doing," he said to the stitchpunks, "but I'm hoping we can outrun this thing."
"I don't think he wants to do that!," shouted 5.
The machine, which Hogarth now dubbed "Ursa," bellowed. It sounded garbled and mechanical. It had a certain note to it that Hogarth couldn't place, but he kept on pedaling. Ducking his head to avoid getting knocked out, Hogarth kept his eyes on the road. The Ursa wasn't too far behind. The beast's paws crushed pinecones and twigs; mouth open, pointy teeth sharp enough to tear flesh.
He looked between two trees, and observed the way they look. Like an inlet. He raced between them and kept speeding through the trees. The air was dry and cold, crisp; the damp smell of moss and wet leaves cut through his nose. The Ursa's roars ousted out all other sounds; though the faint chirp of songbirds could be heard, calling in distant melodies. The rustle of small rodents could be heard among the foliage, though it was deafened by the Ursa's roars, its footsteps crunching the leaves and Hogarth's labored breaths and his bicycle's wheels trampling the leaves, twigs, discarded acorn shells, and other such criteria.
Hogarth spotted a trail to his left. He looked back at the Ursa. He looked past him and saw that it had knocked over those two trees down. He had an anger to him, and he was bent on capturing him, or the stitchpunks. Hogarth rode through the trail. He hoped that with the draping branches hiding him, the Ursa wouldn't be able to see them. But he couldn't be sure. He leaped off his bike, leaned it against the tree and peeked from behind the bushes. The Ursa slowed down to an even-paced trudge, his nose muzzle to the ground. Could it still pick up scents in this bionic form? Hogarth wasn't sure, but he observed.
He and the stitchpunks kept a watchful eye on it for what seemed like an eternity. At this rate they were going to be stuck here all day. Hogarth had to get it to leave. Remembering the bat, he pulled it out, set his backpack down, and looked for a rock.
"What are you doing?," whispered 9.
"Creating a distraction," replied Hogarth, keeping his eyes on the ground. He spotted a decent-enough-lookng rock to use to throw at the Ursa. Picking it up, he turned around, gripping the rock in his hand. "I've only got one shot of this," said Hogarth in sottovoce. "Here goes nothing."
He stepped out of the tree, threw the rock in the air and swung. The rock went streaking through the air like an arrow. It hit the Ursa on its backside. The second it turned around the moment the Hogarth hid behind the tree. He held the bat to his body, breathing hushed breaths, sweat dripping from his forehead. His heart thrummed against his chest in compass to the Ursa's footsteps and its low growls. The stitchpunks watched in anticipation.
A shiver ran down Hogarth's spine. He knew the Ursa was close. He bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut, and gripped the bat. His toes curled in his shoes, ready to make an escape. A growl resonated from behind; that was proof it was right behind him. Holding to every whim he had, he spun around, hoisting the bat and swung. He swung hard enough to make a dent on the Ursa's neck. Hogarth saw a crackle of electricity coil around its skull. The Ursa stood on its hind legs, raising its forelegs. The beast swiped, but he ducked, then he swung the bat and knocked out a bolt, sending it flying off. The leg broke in half. Hogarth tore back, grabbed the paw, ripped off a sickle blade and lodged it into the Ursa's eyes.
The beast reared back. Electricity crackled out of that eye. It fell back on its side. Heaving breath after breath, Hogarth took the initiative and dislodged another sickle and impaled it straight into the Ursa's side. The beast let out a roar, its back legs kicked; the remaining foreleg tried to swipe at Hogarth. The boy backed away, watching it recoil and listening to the deafening mechanical roars. The Ursa convulsed, its limbs trembled, black oil oozed out of the spot Hogarth stabbed. He stood there watching until the machine's limbs stopped shaking. The roads receding. Its remaining eye dimmed. The Ursa's jaw hung agape, making it look more macabre than it did alive.
Hogarth traipsed back to his backpack, his legs trembling. He sat on the forest floor, eyes wide. His arms trembled now, too. This was the second time a beast attacked him, only this time the beast was twice his size. He didn't know how he did that, but he did. Hogarth felt as though it wasn't him doing this, but another; controlling his body, and his mind willing that force to stop.
The stitchpunks watched him worriedly. 9, seeing that he needed to do something, crawled out of the backpack, and waltzed toward the boy. He tugged at Hogarth's sleeve.
"Hogarth?," quoth 9, stitched brows furrowed. Hogarth looked down at him. "Are you...okay?"
Hogarth huffed a breath, and closed his eyes. He laid a hand on his forehead, elbow perched on his knee. The pounding in his head receded, and his heart returned to beat at its normal pace.
"Yeah," said Hogarth, opening his eyes, "I'm okay." He snapped back at the Ursa.
He knew that someone might happen to find it. He'd better hide it. Scanning the forest, he saw all these dry autumn leaves littering the ground. He picked 9 up and took him back into his backpack. Telling them to wait, he went over, picked up an armful of leaves and ran to the Ursa, dumping them on the dead machine. Hogarth collected piles and piles of leaves until the beast's carcass was covered in leaves. This was enough, he ventured, and he picked up his bat, slid it in his backpack, got back on his bike and rode away.
The brisk wind rushed past him, cooling him down from that tiring brawl. He had no idea where that beast came from, but he knew he needed to act fast. With an attack from a beast this big, Hogarth was sure he, or his parents, would be next. Who knows what will happen if one of those beasts came and attacked the town. That Ursa would remain hidden for a time, but he needed to tell Dean about it. He could take a look at it and find its function. It was probably just another spark plug, like with the Lizard. But he couldn't be sure.
He rode on. The stitchpunks peeked out of his backpack, all four of them watching him concernedly. They knew that attack from the beast was a grueling experience, and they understood his tension. Him protecting them from beasts was becoming a stressful job for him, they noted. They couldn't stand to see him like this, but they were willing to help him. They may be small in stature, but in heart and mind, they were giants.
The waves crashed back and forth against the rocks at the edge on the deck. The wind nipped at Hogarth's face. He stood there, leaned against the railing, looking into the sunset. He hadn't gone home all day. He'd just been riding around the the town on his bike, speaking to no one and seeing no one. That fiasco back in the forest left him quite shaken. With that beast ambush, anyone could be behind this.
People walked past him, not paying Hogarth any mind. Either they could tell he was in no mood for company, or they had responsibilities to cater to.
Hogarth looked into the horizon. He loved seeing boats disappearing into that vanishing point. That line where the sky and sea meet. He always imagined himself darting through that line like an arrow and finding himself in another world. Maybe in the future, a teleporting machine might be invented.
The stitchpunks peeked out of the half-opened backpack while being careful not to be seen. Their concern for Hogarth grew and grew by the minute. It was obvious that he was still shaken from that ambush back in the forest, but Hogarth was far past it. Now he wanted to know who was building these machines. Who? Who could have the brains to create the beast machines? Was it someone from the stitchpunks' world? Maybe not all humans were gone. If not, then, the only other answer was somebody from Hogarth's world. Who? Who would be vindictive enough to invent these beasts and send them to attack Hogarth and the stitchpunks?
That's when it clicked. Kent Mansley. No, he couldn't be. He didn't look smart enough to build something like the Ursa. Last he heard, Kent was going to get the death penalty. So ruling him out, the only other explanation would be that Kent had accomplices. That had to be the answer!
Hogarth removed his backpack and set it down on the boardwalk. He sat on his haunches, exhaling a breath.
"This is all getting out of hand," he said. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping no one would hear him. To his relief, the few people that were still at the docks were several feet away. He looked back at the stitchpunks. "I mean, I knew these machines would come after you, but I never expected them to be, like...you know, that Ursa."
"We know, Hogarth," said 5, head peeking out of the small gap.
"It's just...," he looked down at the water, his reflection a blurry vision of his own self. "I don't know, I thought that as I got older, I'd be able to face off any danger head on without any fear."
"That's kind of an oxymoron," quoth 9, peeking over 5's shoulder.
"He's right," said 5, "even in the midst of danger, you're still scared."
"And that's okay," chimed 9. The twins nodded their heads.
Hogarth glanced at them blankly, not caring if anyone heard him "talking to himself," or saw the four ragdolls.
"Do you want to know something?," uttered 9.
Hogarth only nodded as an answer.
"Well," began 9, "when we all went after the machine, I was scared."
This received a furrowed brow from the boy. Like he didn't understand or was incredulous. Either way, Hogarth listened.
"I know I come off as strong and bold and confident," said 9, "but on the inside I worry for my friends. I worry whether they're safe, if they're all right, or if they need help." He paused when he got to the part he mostly dreaded. "When 5 and I went to look for 2, I was scared."
"Even though you weren't showing it," quipped 5, raising a brow.
9 smirked and continued with his story.
"Anyways," he said, "I was scared, but I knew that finding 2 was the right thing to do. And I knew that this search was important to 5. When we arrived at the entrance I was scared, but I wasn't going to turn back. 5 and I went in, and we found 2...and the Cat Beast."
Hogarth suddenly felt his melancholy melt away from listening to 9's spiel. He sat up straighter, keeping his ears perked.
"When we managed to free 2, we were cornered," spoke 9. "I thought it would be the end of the line. That is, until 7 showed up."
The twins smiled and clapped their hands, optics flashing. Hogarth couldn't help but chuckle. He really needed a good laugh after this hectic day.
"Anyways," said 9 after a laugh, "7 beheaded the Cat Beast and it was dead. I don't know how she did it without showing fear, but she did."
"Either way, she's braver than me," uttered 5.
9, smiling savvily, commented, "You're brave, too."
"In certain cases," said the one-eyed stitchpunk, scratchy the back of his neck.
The twins flickered their optics. Hogarth wordlessly sent 9 and 5 that look, the look that let them know he needed translation.
"They're saying," chirped 5, "that whenever 7 had to make a run in the Emptiness, she would channel out all her fear in private."
Hogarth raised his brows. "Kind of like...warming up before going out onstage." He wasn't sure if that was the right comparison, but it sufficed.
"Well, what I'm trying to tell you is," said 9, "is that you'll always be scared. Even when you think you're too old to be scared."
Hogarth chuckled nervously.
"You can be too old for a lot of things," said 5.
"But you're never too old to be scared," interjected 9. "You just have to keep the fear from crippling you."
How right they were about that. Hogarth couldn't deny it. Hearing these things from stitchpunks blew him away. He wondered if he would ever hear these same things from the Giant. He's probably learned to speak better. If or when he meets him again, Hogarth would love to hear all that he's done and where he's been, what he's seen. Keeping that in mind, there was plenty of time for all that, and then some.
Hogarth felt better after this talk. Remembering he needed to get home, Hogarth made it a point to tell his parents about that forest ambush with the Ursa. He could practically hear his mother's voice nagging him about staying safe and how he could have gotten hurt. He'd been through it time before, but he also needed to remind her that he can take care of himself.
Standing up, he grabbed his backpack, strapped it over himself and picked his helmet. He left his bike by the old fish vendor's stand and asked him to keep watch over it. Hogarth reached the fish stand, thanked him and gave the vendor a goodbye and climbed on. With his helmet safely placed on, he pedaled off, looking forward to another tomorrow.
When he passed the concession stand, a man in a grey trench coat and brown fedora lifted his head, glancing over at Hogarth. His clear gray eyes narrowed inquisitively. He looked down at his wristwatch. 6:56.
He'd only been in Rockwell for a week, and he was starting to see this mission as a waste of time. He tried to talk his way out of this to the general, but he wasn't having any of it. So, he reluctantly drove here. A place for him was already prepared for him: a house nearer to the forest road. It wasn't on the same spot as Hogarth's, but every path lead back to the forest either way.
After a week here, following Hogarth, and having no luck, he was finally convinced that there probably was something to investigate.
With that, he lowered his hat and walked down the street, making his way back home.
Whoa, wasn't that just a joyride? O.o And who's that newcomer at the end? In all honesty, I had planned to introduce him in the next chapter (or the one after), but I was in such a good mood that I decided to go ahead and throw him in.
Be sure to look out for the next chapter.