Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, or else you wouldn't be reading this... =1
A/N: Hey. So I had finished this chapter quite a while back, but couldn't bring myself to publish it.. I wanted to correct all previous chapters, but time passes by, and corrections never seem to end, so… here goes this one. SIGHT
Thanks so much for visits this story still gets from time to time. HEAD UP! THIS CHAPTER'S STORY can be considered AU side-line story. Anybody can read it regardless of previous chapters. Enjoy~
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Day #11: "Endless Cycle" Part 1
[A one-day tale of a scattered society that discreetly works in hopes to confront a certain Tyrant-an enigma who is stuck in a repetitive alternation of Life]
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He scouts the area lazily with a pair of still-functioning binoculars advanced enough to give him readings of his current viewing coordinates, climate temperature, and even potential signs of upcoming weather hazards (not like he's really paying attention to those numbers, even if they do spot unsightly gusts of wind at the far distance).
It doesn't help that his stomach growls, distracting him enough to give up scouting once more, stretch his arms out, and let out a yawn of tiredness and boredom. He leans back on the already too warm seat of his vehicle, and props his feet up. The latest model of his Spider Mech wobbling at its centerpiece just so, as the vehicle's eight mechanical legs take turns advancing further, occasionally letting out steam through tiny openings found around its body armor. A rusty metal chain from the back connects to a series of cars following behind, carrying his supplies.
It was like a flashy off-rails train, traveling across a large terrain landscape completely free of trees, and a mile too many away from the nearest populated town. The terrain's vast emptiness seemed suitable to host the location he was looking for, except that he spots nothing on the horizon but more rocky ground. His hands search through tattered old papers at the side of his seat, finally taking hold of a barely-readable map that hasn't been updated in years.
He drags the rugged map to his face, fingers lazily pointing at one of the indicated red dots.
"Around this area is where I coordinated the lab to be built.." he speaks absently. A red-headed cyborg sitting on the edge of the spider's body armor at the back corner is the only being around paying him any attention. It nods at his sentence and stands up to scan the area for energy readings through its internal visor.
"It had better fucking be there, or I'll be so pissed!" he would've slammed a fist down, but he's too tired to put in the effort. Instead, his arms drop down and his neck rests backward more, head staring straight at the sky above him, where the sun's light shines the rough, almost withering features of his skin. "..I'm hungry..."
As if it had just detected something, the cyborg then jumps off the Spider and jogs at a distance, its steps slowing down while looking under, as if sensing the earth beneath him.
It eventually comes to a stop. "It seems to be underground, Sir.." he states. Porky lazily sits up, pulling a lever that stops their vehicle on its tracks, the rumbling noise of its engine dying down a little, its legs freezing as they all come in contact with the ground, and the cars behind it struggle not bump on each other.
Just a few feet away from where the cyborg stood still, they spot several suspicious-looking 'rocks' on the ground, right before a strange dent on the earth. Porky suspects they're bug-like guard robots.
"Hmm?"
...
In a better-connected society, Doctor Maverick would have been a man of renowned credits and country-wide acknowledged awards. A role-model sought after many aspiring scientists, and status kept in public awe. But such a world was not the place (time) he lived in. Instead, he was residing at an underground laboratory with many other lesser men of science, in a shared effort to researching and manufacturing weapons to confront their country's elusive "Tyrant P."
Not all men present could tell the story, much less all details, but Uroulla had once been an elusive country by itself in centuries past. A section of a floating continent that had kept international relations at a distance, gaining little connection to the rest of the world. It had remained so for many centuries, until an entity self-titled as "Tyrant P" rose to power, overthrowing the previous government. No one knows how it went about, but who could argue when the country soon became internationally recognized for its mass robotic weaponry production for the decades that followed, through knowledge that had spread thanks to the teachings of their new Tyrant P.
The nation then enjoyed several years of World Power and Influence, with its residents now feeling as if they had something Great to share with the World. Factories and laboratories opened widely across the country, fully making use of the many unmined resources the populace had no knowledge of. Truly, under the directions of Tyrant P, its future seemed brighter than many of the people of its era could have hoped to even imagine.
At the cost of such a rapid advancement, many of the country's old traditions were suddenly lost. Naturally, a cult emerged from the shadows as a show of objection, and attempted to take back the government to how it once was, through a failed Coup d'état.
It was this event that unfolded their new tyrants' "true colors," and ugliness followed Uroulla's history for the next decades.
Following Military action, all cult members suddenly vanished. And ever since then, whoever seemed to speak strangely about their Tyrant would go missing. Civil restlessness ensued. That life of Peace and Dreams that had been granted by the Tyrant suddenly a long-ago fantasy. And so, The People's new resolve was to work discreetly using the very technology the Tyrant had provided to turn against him. The underground lab directed under Maverick was one such place. Previously build to blindly manufacture the many weapons the Tyrant had ordered when his era of reign begun. The lab was now filed as "abandoned," but continued to operate, hoping to eventually harness enough knowledge and firepower to overthrow the Tyrant.
Interestingly enough, the People have yet to meet their so-called Tyrant P. A purple flag with golden border, with a Pink oval resembling a Pigsnout in its center, hanging at the entrance of his Castle, is all the image they have. They do not know the extent of his knowledge or his army, but some calculate he may have an endless supply of armed robots.
No matter the odds, mankind doesn't give up, even if previous generations did. Tirelessly through these past decades, Scientists and other residents of this country work hard to discover knowledge of their own.
However, this lab's peaceful routine of research was cut short, when the alarming INTRUDER signal gave off, blinking two yellow moving dots in one of the many screens visible, and warning the rest of the scientists through sounds echoing across the lab. This signal meant someone unauthorized had found and entered the first gate to their headquarters, the one leading to the surface.
But there was truly no reason to panic, thought Maverick. The lab was armed by the dozens (granted, partly in weapons they didn't quite fully understand just yet). But no one with any brains should dare threaten them under these conditions. Whoever was intruding would be met with welcome or perished on the spot. Nevertheless, the crew went to peek at the screens recording the view out the main door.
Through the camera, they saw a boy with messy blond hair dangling in his face, wearing washed-blue overalls that were tattered, with rips, dirt, and holes. On his back, he carried what looked like another, younger boy, probably unconscious, with autumn red hair. This boy too, looked bruised up. Upon closer examination, the scientists noticed what was left of a robotic arm dangling at the boy's right side.
The blond slammed weakly at their door-a large metal structure built to be very durable. "Y-you've got to help us, please! We're in danger..!" he puffed, arching forward to maintain balance with the weight on his back. "Please let us in! You have to help him..!" he rose his head up to look at the camera, though his eyes were still covered by his hair.
There was desperation in his voice, but many of the men did not sympathize. They had grown too accustomed to little contact with the outside world, away from familial life, and deemed their mission more important (civil restlessness not something they experienced first-hand). And why on earth would two hobo children be in danger at vast place like this? Wild animals?
"If I may interrupt, Sir," spoke a weary and suspicious scientist while lifting his glasses, before anyone else commented pityingly to the sight before them. "Do you think these kids were followed here? Do you think this location has been compromised?"
"It's a definitive possibility.." answered Maverick. There was no way a child could've made it past the first entrance. And the cyborg he carried on his back had better be explained before they're let in.
"Let us in!" the blond continued to slam at the door, having no answer come forward. "He won't last much longer!"
The men looked at each other puzzled, but remained skeptic. Maverick then spoke through the mic, with first things in mind.
"How did you find this lab? No... how did you get in here-"
"What!? This is no time for this!" The blond boy shook his head, and maybe even gave his best pleading look, except that it was hard to find his eyes under that hair. Still, he tried to muster a voice pitiful enough to be worth listening to, but spoke words that sounded like a threat.
"You're planning to overthrow the great Tyrant P, aren't you?"
Further suspicious aroused, the men leveled up their guards. Some reached toward their guns and tasers (even though it did seem pretty stupid to feel threatened by a bruised-up child).
"This cyborg I bring with me can help you!" The boy outside continued, trying to turn suspicions into hopes of fallacy, speaking words they may want to not miss.
"The truth is I stole him! I stole him from the Tyrant's army, so you've got to let me in!" his voice was coming off as panic by the minutes. "He's too powerful! He's been kept alive to be a key player in this! And that's why he can't-" his words cut off by tired puffs of air. "-he can't die! You of all people should understand!"
The men were taken aback. Were they really to believe some dirty brat would just barge in, claiming he had some sort of Ultimate Weapon just for their plans? Some of them chuckled, now even more skeptic than ever. But there was no denying they were curious about what knowledge the brat had to offer, if any.
"There is nothing you can do to confirm your accusations," Maverick spoke through the speaker with still calm nerves. "We will take this 'cyborg' with us, and escort you to the nearest town of Noler. You'll be safe there."
"That will take far too long, you idiot! And nobody knows him better than me!" The boy lashed out. "Let me in right now!" He's starving, and his robot's dying, and "You really think your current weaponry stands a chance against P!?" it's laughable if they think they're even close. "Are you gonna let your (inferior and dim-witted) ignorance get the better of you!? If that's not the case, you will open the door right this instance!"
A harsh truth that takes the men a little while to digest. It's true.. their own ignorance is what led to this. It's true that it was actually their Tyrant's knowledge that allowed Uroulla to thrive. It's true that most men here have no vision of how the future will be once they finally accomplish this decades-long quest of over-powering him. They were too absorbed in their temporary mission, more intrigued by the pursuit of their new hobby, and ignorant of the whole picture. Compared to the enemy, they were.
So they let the boys in (maybe partly to save some pride), but keep their weapons in hand, even if some hostile notions were diminished. The blond boy in overalls cracks an eerie smile under the shadows of his messy hair as he's let in.
...
"It's so much more fun to make you all believe.." Porky states in a mocking tone as he rolls in circles on one of the many wheeled chairs in the lab. It eventually comes to a stop, flashy smile staring right at Dr. Maverick, who holds a most hostile expression of controlled loathing in his face.
The chattering little army of still-functioning porkybots occasionally give off piggish-like recorded laughter, along with buzzing and the sound of metal joints rotating back and forth. They moved their bodies about, like giggling children, as they did their job of scrambling about the lab, some plugging into computers to retrieve data, others disassembling machines, others holding scientists hostage, and more carrying out computers or simply scouting the whole place.
Dr. Maverick can't exactly come to terms of how it turned out this way. Before they knew it, as soon as they had let the brat in, a mini army of white and black colored little robots with bright red lights on their heads seemed to pop out the air itself (blend mode turned off) and overtook the lab. Any men who had attempted to attack them got zapped, and anything that tried to touch the blond boy himself seemed to bent and was pushed off-through some sort of unexplainable defense barrier they could not see, much less hope to comprehend.
The cyborg that had been behind the blonds' shoulders was walking about now, stoic expression on itself despite two bandages covering part of its damaged, pale skin. What struck him most was that, bionic limb and faint buzzing joints aside, whoever or whatever this was, did look human enough to live among other men.
Maverick contemplated this little enigma for just a brief moment... a cyborg. Never before had any of them attempted an actual fusion between a human and a robot. To the people of this country, robots were to be entirely separate from them. Merely used as tools for monetary gain or offensive power. Yet this ginger-head had flesh and blood, but was obedient to every one of the blonds' commands.
With shaking fists, Dr. Maverick's attention returned to the blond and demanded, "Just who the hell are you?"
Porky was pleased at the question, and stood up for the empowering effect.
"I... am that enemy your meek little efforts seek to destroy.. The Great Tyrant P!"
"That's impossible," denial shooting through Maverick's throat before he could truly digest. "No one has ever actually seen him," he tries to regain composure with the time it takes him to clear his throat. "Anybody could claim to be him.." eyes narrow.
Porky had to laugh at this, it feels so repetitive but it doesn't fail to amuse him every time.
"True.. anybody could claim to be me..." his pointy finger dwindles in the air, stopping when it points to the Doc himself.
"But, could anybody just achieve what I've just done here?"
There was no denying, with the constant buzzing and repulsive sounds that confirmed his own laboratory was being raided by intruders.
No, there was no denying... how far his own ignorance stretched.
"What are you...!?"
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~End of Part 1~
A/N: Hey, thanks for reading this far! I hope this "world" I introduced you readers to here wasn't too confusing. If it was, let me know, and I will edit the 2nd part to clarify further.
Thank you for visiting!