A/N: Looks like y'all get ALL the chapters today. Except not really cuz we haven't finished the story.
Chapter 7
"True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost." - Arthur Ashe
The darkness didn't fade. It was still pitch; the only thing that did change was the feeling of the atmosphere. It was suddenly dank and wet and just wrong. They weren't in the Robot anymore.
They could feel their slimy captors pushing them along but their hold was suddenly rock hard and it was impossible to escape. Eventually they began to notice that they could see faintly. They weren't sure if it was because their eyes had adjusted or if there was some light around that they couldn't identify, but it was comforting to do so all the same.
Except for when they began to actually see their surroundings. The hellish creatures that walked next to them and the twisted caverns plummeted their spirits more so than the darkness had.
The ship seemed to have no navigable pathways-doors would suddenly appear in walls or out of floors that allowed more of the Formless creatures to pass by them. It seemed almost alive. Well, not alive, but not dead either. Un-dead. The ship was un-dead.
They walked a long time.
This put them all on further edge. Just what were they dealing with here?
After a small eternity walking the levels they were lead down a hall that had a noticeable light at the end of it. None of them wanted near it. It was a ghastly, sickly green color-the kind that precedes the fog that holds the monster that will come and eat you in your peaceful sleep.
Several of them tried to stop, but were pushed on regardless.
Beyond the entryway was a dead-end.
The monkeys were paraded before him like some dark circus act. They squirmed and struggled and growled and glanced around with anger hiding the fear in their eyes; he could feel it though. It swirled around them like the ancient, toxic fumes of his own ship-only far more gratifying.
He slammed his staff onto the hardened marrow floor, calling their attention to himself-he was the host after all.
"Greetings, monkeys..." His voice was rough and ancient. It sounded like a final breath after long suffering with some parting words that gripped you to them, demanded you heed them. It was the voice of the Skeleton King. "I trust you have found my home to your liking."
They stared at him, bespelled by his voice and horrified at his corpse body. There was disgust mingled with their fear and hatred now, as well as some curiosity. That would do well.
"Who-" the orange monkey's voice cracked. "Who are you?" he finally bit out. He drew himself up and held himself with as much authority as his feeble stature allowed.
"I am the master of this domain. The creator of these Formless creatures you are so bent on destroying."
"You created them?" the blue one spoke up. Curiosity was winning him over.
"Yes, and I have taken it as a personal insult that you keep annihilating them before they can finish out their purpose."
"They try to destroy the City," the orange one-Mandarin, he recalled-broke in again.
"Yes, that is their primary objective."
"Why?" the yellow one-Nova-asked. Her voice was full of innocent curiosity but her eyes betrayed the indignant anger and fear within her.
"What have the citizens ever done to you?" the blue one-Gibson-asked.
"They have rejected me. They stand between me and my destiny. I must go forth with my mission."
"Who are you?" Mandarin asked once more.
"You may call me, the Skeleton King."
"I have never heard of you," Mandarin declared. He looked over to the others as if for confirmation or reassurance.
"Nor have I, but we are not the most educated on Shuggazoomian history," Gibson said.
"Enough of this talk," the Skeleton King declared. He waved his hand toward the group and their captors immediately melted from them into the floor. The goop that remained of them slithered out the only door within the room, which sealed over into hardened bone once it was gone.
"I have brought you before me now, to seal your fate once and for all. You have two choices, you may either turn your allegiance to myself and become my minions, or you shall be destroyed."
"What?" the simians all cried out in varying degrees.
"Surely this is some joke," Mandarin said.
"I assure you, this is no joke. You must decide your fate now, if you accept my proposal I shall grant you more power and dominion than you could possibly dream of. The universe will be yours for the taking." The forever frozen smile on his face seemed to laugh at their uncertainty and temptation.
"The universe will never be yours to give," Antauri's firm voice rang out clearly, leaving no edge of weakness to be exploited. The faces of the others hardened, reinforced by this first rejection, as they in turn denied him, the Skeleton King:
"Yeah, the universe is everybody's," the green one chimed in.
"No power is worth being a slave," Nova glowered at the villain towering over them. "Especially not to somebody as ugly as you," she added fiercely.
"Don't provoke the necromantic lunatic in a position to end us by viscous suffocation," Gibson advised with a low voice, then straightened up and voiced his refusal: "But, no – keep your promises of supremacy to yourself."
"Yeah, as if we'd ever trust somebody with a poker face like yours," Sprx added.
"I am nobody's minion. I serve no one but my own Destiny," Mandarin ended the row of replies, his voice now steeled by the self-confidence and determination that came with knowing you were not alone in your decision.
The monkeys stood in a semi-circle, haughtily regarding the skeletal figure before them with some sort of self-satisfied notion of idealism. Insubordinate spawns. If they could not be swayed by enticement, then pain and intimidation would have to do. Not that the means mattered in any way – the result would be the same – the sovereignty of the Skeleton King - with or without the cooperation of the imprudent simians.
"So be it," the coarse voice of the Skeleton King grated against their auditory receptors, laced with a tinge of dark humour at their heroic ideas. "You will feel on your own bodies the power you have so foolhardily denied." With a swish of his cape he gestured towards the shadowed corners of the room which proved to be more Formless goo hiding as scenery. The dark decor obeyed its master, came to life and wriggled into shapes of hostile quality.
Surrounded, the Monkey Team brought out their individual weapons, facing the enemy in an outward circle.
"This looks bad," Otto admitted. "How do we get out of this?"
"Never back down," Mandarin commanded. "Stand your ground. Fight with dignity or don't fight at all."
"At least I'll die knowing you were theatrical to the bitter end," Sprx said, the jesting overlapped by anxiety and annoyance.
"I'd rather fight and die with pride than live my life in shame," Mandarin said, his calm resolve being accompanied by the sizzling of his energy weapons in an eerie fashion.
"Fine then. Let's go out in a blaze of glory - like true performers," Sprx gritted his teeth, not sure how much was sarcastic comeback and how much was sincere - albeit foolish – determination to exhibit one last display of attitude in the face of the overwhelming odds.
"Let's show them what we're made of," Nova growled and raised her fists.
"Colourful gadgets and puppydog eyes?" Otto suggested.
And with that one last line of larger-than-life pep talk, the Team charged as one.
No matter how dense others might think you, there are times when you and everybody just know – be it genre-savviness or plain instinct – that this is to be a Defining Moment in Time. The ominous background scenery, the cackling of the Main Bad Villain, the hundreds and hundreds of Minions encircling you – it all leads up to the final do-or-die climax where you either prevail or die un-epically.
Hopefully they'd win and maybe do it while a climactic explosion destroyed the villain's lair and the Main Bad yelled 'Curse youuuu!' at the top of his lungs. Some things just have to be done in the proper way.
But that climax seemed so far away. Rows and rows of Formless Minions advanced upon the Team in an ongoing onslaught where the monkeys slashed and pushed back, only to have new slime soldiers swoop up from the walls and the floor to take the place of the fallen ones.
The tides never seemed to turn. Neither slime nor simians lost any significant ground, but kept pressing on, kept striking and lashing out, kept doing the same movements over and over and over simply because there was no other option but to fight on. On and on and on.
Green saws swirled and sloshed black sludge in all directions as Otto ploughed through another slime soldier. His joints ached in a dull way that only helped to reassure him that his arms and legs were still attached to his body and not being digested by the Skeleton King's gelatinous Minions. Every time he moved, it ached, every time he went from one position to another, nerves throbbed in weary response.
Otto wished he could just tell them to shush so he could concentrate on not dying or accidentally dismantle any of his Teammates. That wouldn't do any good and Mandarin would get cross with him. The leader would probably lecture him on stamina techniques and focusing when they won. Otto looked forward to that.
Winning. That'd be nice. Any time now.
The green monkey couldn't count how many black shapes he had dissipated and then waited for a new one to rise from the floor. He couldn't shake off the image of trying to wipe up an ocean with a tattered piece of paper tissue.
Not far away, by the red monkey's side, Nova hammered down Formless like she was playing some pointless carnival game. Only she might lose more than loose pocket change if she failed to hit the targets on time.
This was what she had trained for - this very event - the dramatic battle against the odds, shoving the face of the enemy into the ground; hitting, kicking and employing all her anger and hard-achieved combat skills in an epic display of violent bravado and heroism – doing something worthwhile with her life – accomplishing something.
Although... the true high point of the mêlée kept being postponed by goop Minions. Nova looked to the sneering contour of the Skeleton King – the true goal of the Team - who was silently watching on as part of the background scenery. When she got her paws on him, she'd show just how much she could accomplish. She'd beat that horrible grin off his face with his own staff.
The Skeleton King was in no way impressed by the incredibly dirty looks sent him by the female monkey. If anything it amused him that she so insisted on putting on this facade of audacity.
"We're gonna kick your bony rear – bet on it!" she yelled at him and minced three Formless into paste. She was backed up by the red and green monkeys who yelled similarly childish insults at him.
The nerve of thinking they could actually achieve anything but slightly staining the floor. Insufferable cybernetic nuisances with their insipid flauntings of heroism – deluding themselves into thinking themselves able to alter the course he had set for Destiny. Laughable.
The Skeleton King rose from his throne and plunged the staff into the ground - the tremor sent all the Formless slinking to the corners, leaving the Monkey Team lashing out at the empty air. "This ends now."
An invisible force picked the monkeys up from the floor and mercilessly hurled them across the room where they met with the walls with a nauseatingly dull crack.
The tangle of simians groaned in astonishment and pain. Somewhere inside the mess of tails and bruises and multi-hued fur Mandarin barked orders for them to first get the doodle off him and then pull themselves back together.
"Ow my... everything," Otto groaned and rolled off his blue brother.
"Get up!" Mandarin exclaimed and kicked them both off him. "We mustn't group together, it'll make it easier for him to target all of—"
They were again scooped up by an unseen hand and whipped aside like some unwanted toy.
The monkeys skidded across the floor, their cybernetic implants screeching and sparking as metal scraped against the bony, rock-like material. The skeletal villain laughed at their misery as the sound made their fur stand on end.
Antauri grabbed the shoulders of Mandarin and Gibson, steadying themselves as the others unfortunately flew out of reach and collided with the walls yet again.
"Split up," Mandarin hissed under his breath. The trio activated their jet-packs and soared around the room in order to divide and conquer. Gibson went for the ceiling, attacking the stalactites with his drills while Antauri and Mandarin went for the head-on approach, assaulting the Skeleton King from opposite directions, weapons raised and sizzling with energy.
The undead villain merely scoffed at their valiant efforts, the rocks that Gibson's efforts sent flying at his ossified head were crushed with the same swipe of his staff that pounded the black monkey aside, while he sidestepped the orange who in turn smacked into the blue and rolled off to one side.
He towered over the monkeys who were all again scattered alongside one wall and looked up at him in varying degrees of fright and fury.
"Foolish monkeys! Did you think that you could defeat me?"
Skeleton King extended one hand and slowly lifted them off the floor yet again. Their eyes filled with dread expectation at their heads continuously and harshly meeting with the stone structure of the ship.
Instead, he brought them nearer his throne; his piercing stare seeming like it could tear them to shreds by its sheer power of malevolence alone. His voice rang out like the ominous midnight toll of a bell tower: "I am to rid the universe of your filth and unleash the Dark Ones upon the Cosmos. As surely as Shuggazoom will fall then so will the rest of the universe follow it."
The two Power Primate students stared at the skeletal being in utter horror while the others gathered from the name that the Dark Ones were not creatures you invited over for afternoon tea and biscuits.
Mandarin struggled against the invisible grasp, incensed by the demented exposition. The Dark Ones - the ultimate force of destruction and malice - existed to accomplish nothing but undo creation itself, to destroy and eradicate and pull apart the very seams of reality.
But before this undead crime against nature could set free these aeons-old beasts of annihilation he wanted – needed – to see Shuggazoom destroyed.
This one little planet - this one, seemingly uninteresting little city. Mandarin gritted his teeth so hard that an actual grating sound was heard. In order to achieve his demented goals of universal annihilation, Skeleton King needed to obliterate Shuggazoom. The City they had sworn to protect. The City they had come to call Home.
Mandarin narrowed his eyes in pure rage. How dare he? Shuggazoom, the City – my City.
The jagged jaws of the Skeleton King separated slightly as he let out a low, rough laugh and let the monkeys fall to the ground and tumble off his throne where he again brushed them off to one side with a careless gesture of his hand.
The Monkey team were again involuntarily invading each other's private space bubbles and groaning in pain.
"That bone-bag is toying with us," Nova fumed; her limbs trembled in exhaustion and hurt.
"C'mon we can get through this," Otto said, however the quiver in his voice wished to say otherwise.
"And how do you think we'll do that?" Sprx said while rubbing his head. "By the power of love? Sorry to burst your little bubble of hope, but the amount of love in this room won't even fuel a flashlight."
"We mustn't lose hope," the black monkey said sternly.
"You have no hope left to lose," the Skeleton King interjected from his throne. "Now, begone from this world you miserable fusions of meat and metal."
"Stop!"
The skeletal being froze. His arm was still outstretched toward them as he was getting ready to attack them once more, but he had ceased looking at them menacingly and was instead staring an empty spot to his right as if it held the most contemptible creation within the universe.
"You cannot do this. I won't let you."
"You think you can stop me, fool? You are nothing but a weak phantom, barely able to cling to this shell of a body."
"It doesn't matter, I gave my life for them once, I can give what's left of it for them again," the Alchemist - the unknown creator of the six monkeys slumped before them - said. He was nothing more than a ghost now. A spirit that was still somewhat bound to the physical plane by the not-entirely-corrupted heart that still beat within his former body. Only his overshadower could "see" him, hear him, knew he had even existed at all.
"You pathetic waste of cosmic energy," the Skeleton King snapped. "You have nothing. All the power that you so dutifully acquired and learned I now possess and control. You cannot stop me."
The monkeys watched on as the terrifying being before them spoke - no argued with thin air. The un-dead creature who moments before had been ready to eliminate them from the face of reality was now showing his lack of grasp on it.
"We shall see," the Alchemist challenged.
"I should have rid the universe of your presence long ago, a mistake I shall rectify immediately. You're soul will no longer be bound to this corpse. I am it's owner, and I shall use it to instill the proper fear throughout the galaxy."
The monkeys stared at their distracted nemesis in horror – the fright that comes with staring insanity in the face and not in the least knowing what to expect next.
A sizzling of energy was heard as the blue sword sparked to life. Antauri turned to see orange Team leader picked himself up while intently staring in the direction of the Skeleton King with a mix of determination and disgust on his face.
"Mandarin—" Antauri made to follow.
"Stay down," the orange monkey cut him off brusquely. "The villain is distracted. Find a way to the Robot."
"Don't get yourself killed while being all heroic," Sprx called out somewhat in worry and mostly in frustration.
"I don't need to be a hero," Mandarin hissed as he lunged towards their nemesis, "I just need to win."
He leapt up at the throne on whose peak the Skeleton King was yelling incoherently. The orange monkey seemed so diminutive in comparison to the skeletal figure, to the spiky throne – a small spark of colour edging its way into a dark painting of death and misery.
Antauri called to the others. "Otto, make way for escape; Gibson, can you track the Robot from here?"
"I can." While the blue monkey concentrated on this task, Otto was wildly assaulting the spot in the walls where he guessed they had entered. The black monkey turned to Sprx and Nova. "Stay here and assist Mandarin."
"You heard him, he doesn't need us," Nova spat.
"He might." Antauri shot a worried look in the direction of the throne; then froze. The others turned, expecting to see orange bits scattered all over the place.
There was nobody on the throne.
The throne was on somebody, however.
The gloved fist met with a hard, yet oddly smooth surface. He'd thought I'd be rough and edgy, but seeing as it was a skinless cranium, the smoothness made more sense. The cracking sound and the feel of tiny bone splinters stabbing all the way through the leather armour were extremely gratifying; to the point it became stimulating. This time, Mandarin didn't even try to hide the fact that he took joy in inflicting pain on his enemy. Not this enemy.
The Skeleton King veered, dazed from the impact, before he unceremoniously fell off the dais.
Mandarin had a spell of grim humour and activated his jet-pack, flew around the room before he soared towards the throne, thrusters on full speed, the energy weapons on the highest and channelling the purest stream of Power Primate energy he could muster. It all culminated when he hit the throne with everything he had, and the stony structure broke off, falling directly towards its wide-eyed owner.
The Team grimaced as the slab of rock hit the villainous figure. Shattered pieces and pebbles spotted the floor and all was silent.
Hovering above the rock-strewn carnage, Mandarin had a far too pleased smile on his muzzle.
"... do you think he's dead?" Otto asked and then reconsidered the wording of his question: "Erm, dead-er?"
Before Gibson could launch into a diatribe about the peculiar semantics concerning the reanimated dead, a hand shot out from the pile of rocks and ruthlessly grabbed the orange monkey, literally taking him down a notch as the Skeleton King rose.
Sheer malicious rage prevented the Skeleton King from uttering anything besides a coarse, feral howl as he narrowed his eyes on the orange monkey - the cause of his total humiliation.
Mandarin groaned in pain as claws settled around his neck in a deathly tight grip. No invisible power was used – it was down-to-earth corporeal brutality that had him squirming for air.
"Mandarin!" the others called out.
The Skeleton King brought the Team leader up to his face, and the two locked gazes.
Pain, resolve, want – in both, there were righteous anger beyond sanity – both were incensed at the other for daring to even touch what was their respective property.
My City.
Mandarin twitched. The pain seemed to cleanse his mind of every other notion but the seething, remorseless anger.
My Universe.
He let the seductive rage grow to uncontrolled proportions – it nurtured his aching limbs, refilled his spirit with energy – in order to fulfill only one ambition.
My Destiny.
In one swift motion of a startlingly sadistic magnitude, Mandarin suddenly shoved both energy weapons directly into the face of the Skeleton King, aiming for the frozen, heartless grin.
The monkey didn't quite register when the grip loosened, or the deafening screech of his foe – he only had that sneering face in sight as he brought down the weapons again and again and again. There was no grace in the act, no refined technique or aiming for weak spots, only the most base, continuous striking at the general direction of the enraged Skeleton King.
Until a magenta hand whacked him aside and Mandarin found himself on his back in the midst of his petrified Team. The Skeleton King wobbled around on the floor, growling inarticulately, no longer emitting quite the same presence of ultimate evil.
"Didn't I tell you to get to the Robot?" Mandarin's tense voice snapped the others out of their trance. Quickly, they slashed themselves an exit and fled the room, following Gibson's tracking signal.
"I told you not to underestimate them - or myself. We still hold power that you cannot begin to understand." The ghost of the Alchemist watched as his beloved creations ran off, then down at his counterpart who was still struggling to regain his posture in an undignified manner.
"We shall see about that," the Skeleton King snapped at him. "I've had enough of your meddling - if you hadn't distracted me, I would have finished off those loathsome primates once and for all."
"They have beaten you once, they can do it again. I have given them the advantage over you, even before my final breathes."
"And what would that be?" The Skeleton King inquired with an air of disbelief and superiority.
"Each other. As long as they remain a team, you can never win. They share a bond that transcends time and space, they will never be alone now - something that you can never hope to experience."
"Indeed, you are correct. I do not hope to forever be in your presence, in fact I wish you to the furthest planes of reality, unable to take shape or make contact with this body ever again. If you do, the consequences will be far greater than just mutating your soul..."
What was left of the Alchemist felt the effects of the curse just placed upon him immediately. The very universe began to pull at his already weakened and tattered soul, pushing and morphing him towards some un-see-able plane of existence that was guaranteed to be far worse than the one he currently resided in. He resisted momentarily, but knew that it was futile - the Dark One servant had grown too strong, soaked up too much of his own strength.
He still had enough left for one last thing: "Fine, then. But I leave you with this parting gift: as long as it exists, you shall be bound to your own throne - in a literal sense. You may never leave this Citadel as long as it lasts, and we both know that as long as it lasts, so too will you..."
The Alchemist finally faded from reality and left the Skeleton King to shout in rage as he felt the effects of the Alchemists own curse begin to metaphysically bind him to his home.
Not a word was uttered as the six monkeys stalked the halls of the stone ship.
Which was fair enough, seeing as they were running for their lives and pallid skeletal and ooze combinations of unnatural horror were jumping for their jugulars at each wrong turn.
But when they made it to the Super Robot and buckled into their cockpits, there still was an odd air of exhilarating joy at the prospect of surviving and winning, tense respect, and fright. Of which the last two were directed towards their leader.
The large automaton rudely put an escape exit where there wasn't one before and sped off into space. Behind them, the jagged rock fortress made no move to follow.
"Finish him off," Mandarin said tersely.
At once, hundreds of missiles shot off from the robotic limbs, making their way towards the enemy ship before they hit in a cloud of light and splintered debris.
Whether it was the feeling of finishing the Skeleton King off for good or the joy of wanton destruction, the quiet tension suddenly transformed into loud whoops of triumph and exclamations of relief:
"Wooohoo! We're alive! Awesome! I love being alive!" Otto hooted over the intercom.
"Yes, one never really appreciates living as much as one does when a horrendous death is imminent," Gibson said and let out a sigh.
"C'mon let's get back to see if the Citizens missed us," Nova said and flicked switches to turn on the foot thrusters.
"They're probably overjoyed that we took the rest of this day's shindig into space," Sprx grinned. "I think they are running out of malls."
"Quite. Our intergalactic crime fighting is unusually hard on local shopping venues for some indiscernible reason," Gibson mulled.
Sprx chuckled. "You sayin' that commercialism rub giant space mutants the wrong way? We've been fighting dirty socialist pigs all along?"
"No. You said that," Gibson answered dryly.
"Relax, I'm jokin'."
"Please don't. It's been a long day."
"Hey Mandy," Otto said, and immediately all other chatting subsided. "Can we go for ice-cream? To, y'know, celebrate that you brutally wiped the floor with the creepy insane zombie?"
If there were such a thing as space crickets, rest assured that they would be doing what crickets do best during short awkward silences like this.
At last, Mandarin spoke: "... Ice-cream sounds... acceptable."
The Super Robot returned victoriously to Shuggazoom, their Home.
In the void of space, small, rocky splinters vibrated and dashed off to reconcile with their structure of origin.
