A/N: Oh! I completely forgot to tell y'all that this onslaught is due to the very kind review by one Nobility who sent a nice batch of warm fuzzies straight to Sniggy's and mine hearts. Thank you 3
Chapter 8
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
- "Fire and Ice" by Robert Frost
There was something off. Life as they knew it was disrupted.
He couldn't truly place why though.
Maybe "disrupted" wasn't the right word. It was more of an illusion or misconception that stemmed the disruption.
He followed the feeling, the niggling thought, the whatever-it-was as close as he could to it's source.
A dead chill ran through him at what he found.
"Mandarin."
The orange monkey turned on his heel to face the black monkey who was quickly catching up to him. He waited expectantly for the other to reach him and continue with whatever he desired to talk about now.
"I believe we need to discuss our course of action."
"Over what?" Mandarin asked with a confused yet superior glint in his eyes.
"Over the Skeleton King," Antauri clarified. "I do not believe he is as gone and forgotten as we first believed."
"And what has given you that idea, my dear brother?" Antauri wasn't sure if his oldest friend was being sarcastic or not with the last part of his statement. He truly did not appreciate the cultural knowledge that Sprx provided at times.
"I've been feeling a strange aura in my meditations and-"
"We're in a strange city, on a strange planet, away from the pure source of the Power Primate - of course things are going to feel off," Mandarin said. He shrugged to show his lack of concern with this matter.
"This is different. It feels sinister and -"
"Are you sure it's the skeletal being? Why didn't you feel this before we met him?"
"I was unfamiliar with his presence, but now that I've actually met him, well, it feels fairly similar," Antauri argued back. The lack of respect or serious distress over this matter by his leader was very disconcerting. He felt a bit betrayed.
"Perhaps you are simply detecting the left over energies that escaped when he was destroyed," Mandarin logically pointed out. "They are probably being reabsorbed into the Dark Ones. There is no way he could have survived that blast, Antauri. We've defeated many sturdy monsters with it." He was not chosen to be the leader because of his looks - he had a mind fit for making snap decisions under pressure and a hardy appetite for history, philosophy, and strategies. He had always had a knack to understand his enemy's behaviour well. That's how he knew when they were gone.
"That's true, but-"
"There is no but. It's either true, or it isn't. Now, answer me this: you saw the debris and wreckage that was left over after the attack, yes?" Mandarin had come to the end of his patience on the matter and stared down Antauri.
"Yes," Antauri answered back. He refused to back down though and maintained the piercing eye contact with the other Mystic.
"And it was a fairly large amount, correct? Enough to be the remains of a large ship?" Mandarin pushed.
"Yes, but-"
"And there is no possible way for that creature to survive long in the vacuum of space without some sort of vehicle, correct?" Mandarin presented the last piece evidence. He gave a small yet noticeably smug smile.
"Yes," Antauri said. Although, he said so very grudgingly.
"Then it is concluded that the Skeleton King could no longer be a threat of any kind. You worry too much, Antauri." Mandarin shook his head in mocking pity and walked off, leaving his closest friend standing alone in the hall with a dissatisfied taste in his mouth.
The orange Hyperforce leader and the golden warrior monkey sparred one-on-one in the training room. The punches were hard and unforgiving, the kicks always flew at the weakest joints, but there was an air of polite respect about the no-holds-barred violence – they were hard on each other because they knew they could be.
Mandarin had seen Nova in action - he knew she had vigour and determination and a will that could bend steel with its little finger.
He thrust out and hit her in the stomach. She lurched, rolled back and suddenly lunged forward and threw a punch that had him seeing stars and tiny winged fists flying around.
They both fell to the floor on their knees, huffing and staring at each other in slight mock resentment. It couldn't be denied that they liked fighting. Or that they liked fighting each other. Mandarin could tell himself that fighting Formless and other monstrosities had been a duty – by all means not a hobby – but sparring with Nova was a more acceptable sort of recreational pastime.
Nova herself found that Mandarin could withstand her onslaught better than anyone else in the Robot – and that he was quite aware of this too.
"You left your torso uncovered too many times," Mandarin berated.
"You need to watch your legs – I tripped you over more times than Otto fell over while learning to use his cold fusion-powered pogo stick."
Mandarin scowled at the memory of the incident, which had involved many, many holes in the floor and one large Otto-shaped hole in the roof.
"Don't remind me," he said. His past reactions of haughty anger regarding any 'wacky' mischief the others got into had subsided to weary annoyance. Where he once might've thrown the Mother Queen of all hissy fits he now simply settled for a glare and a 'Clean this mess up or die quickly' threat that almost, almost contained a hint of dry humour - if one squinted. He was definitely mellowing up. Or edging closer to a silent breakdown. Whichever.
Mandarin got up and dusted himself off dignifiedly. His fanatically straight posture and tendency to always pose dramatically used to have Nova think him a zealous screwball dictator.
Nova nearly smiled. With what she'd seen him do to the Skeleton King, with what she know knew he was capable of, every day she thought he looked more and more like the true leader he'd always claimed to be. He was still a daft control freak, but it bothered her less than it used to.
She took her battle stance. He turned with fists lifted.
They couldn't deny they liked this.
"Still slaving away where you belong, I see," Mandarin commented as he entered the kitchen where Helen was flitting about.
She shot him a particularly nasty glare (not that he saw it, mind you) and ignored him with all the courteous grace she could muster. It was odd that he even deigned to talk to her, he usually ignored her existence to the degree where she sometimes doubted whether he truly knew she was there or not. She liked to return the favour as best she could.
Mandarin calmly got himself a glass of water and chugged it down while leaning against the counter - right in front of where she needed to be.
What did he want?
"Can I help you?" Helen asked scathingly. She matched his rigid posture and crossed arms and raised him an eye-ridge.
"No need to be rude, I am your mate's best friend and leader after all," Mandarin said with a smug inflection as he began to fiddle with her cooking ware.
"I am trying to fix you all a meal - although you're going to have to bathe before you come back in here - and you're in my way. Unless you want to take over the cooking duties for tonight, I suggest you let me be."
"My, my, you do have quite the tongue. Tell me, does Antauri let you get away with such sass?"
Helen upped her glare another few notches and felt a heated flush begin to over take her cheeks. Sometimes she really hated blood-dependent beings.
What in the stars could he possible want from her enough that he'd resort to trying to intimidate her through tattle-telling?
"Don't you have some leader-ly duties to do? Like go lecture Nova about her little outburst before the battle."
Anything to get him off her back and out of her kitchen. Even if it was at the expense of Nova.
"Nova isn't leaving," Mandarin replied flatly.
"Oh? So you've cornered her into staying, have you?" Befriending Sprx had some advantages, such as learning to back-talk and art of euphemism.
Mandarin finally returned her glare and scoffed at her, setting his now empty glass on the counter he drew up to his full height (barely taller than her, but it did make his presence feel larger). She matched him with a challenging stare without fear - she was far to agitated and angered to be afraid right now.
"No," Mandarin broke the tense silence that had encased them with a growl. "She will not leave because that is going to be her choice. Whether she knows it or not, she will be a part of this team until her final breath. She's tasted the true victory over true evil, and she will never be satisfied with any other type of battle, so I don't have to corner her or persuade her or any other manner, she'll stay by my side out of her own free will. That is what power grants you, the ability to have others freely follow you till death."
Helen had no real comeback to that little speech - as much as she hated to admit it, Mandarin could really rally the Right Words to get precisely what he wanted. Luckily she didn't have to respond because right at that moment the subject of their discussion walked in.
The yellow monkey followed the leader's earlier course and got a cool glass of water. She turned to the two who had lessened their glares but transferred their hatred into their posture and so appeared to be standing a little unnaturally still.
"What?" Nova asked. Clearly she had interrupted something.
"I was just wondering, Nova," Helen said. Her voice was harder than usual and had a cynical edge to it that set Nova on guard. "Are you still planning on leaving us?"
Nova looked between the two monkeys, not liking what she saw in either of their eyes, and finally settled her gaze on the glass in her hands.
"... No, I don't think I am," she responded after a minute. "I know we beat the one Bad Guy, but there'll be others out there. This is what I've trained my whole life for: to battle the oppressors of the universe, to save the innocent, to be a guardian of the people. I didn't think we were doing that before, but now I see that not all the villains are going to come out at once and I want to be there when they do; to beat them back and show them that they'll never win. I'm gonna stay on the team."
Helen's jaw was clenched far too tightly to respond and her fist were balled up to the point of pain. Not really at Nova's decision, but at the smug and know-it-all grin that the oh-so-cherished leader was giving her.
"Very good," Mandarin said. He finally vacated his position and walked out of the kitchen (with an extra hop in his step, Helen swore).
Taking a deep calming breathe and recalling everything her teachers had ever taught her on controlling emotions and how to deal with high-handed beings she let her anger go. She looked over at the yellow monkey who was still staring intensely at her glass as if it would give her the answers to whatever questions she was mentally conveying to it. Helen felt a flash of pity go through her at what the poor girl must be going through with struggling with her most sacred and foundational beliefs, but then decided that Nova wouldn't really appreciate the sentiment and let it go.
She calmly went back to dashing around the kitchen, allowing Nova her quiet time as much as possible.
"Is it right?" Nova asked.
Helen stopped in surprise but regarded the other girl calmly and as wisely as she could managed at the moment.
"Is what right?" Her voice was back to being overly-soothing and peaceable.
"Staying here," Nova clarified. Her eyes spoke of her reluctance to ask the other female, but her greater need to be reassured.
Helen mulled over everything she knew about the situation, dragging Nova's patience through a rough patch.
"Do you want to stay?" she finally asked.
"... I think so."
"Then I think you should stay."
And with that they split ways.
Meditation is supposed to drain the mind of all thoughts, feelings, and worries so that one may reach a higher plane of such things. This is a difficult task even to the most studious - as in example with the black monkey who at this moment was using his skill to simply ponder his troubles on this plane instead of the relaxing and rejuvenating experience it was prescribed to be.
Mandarin was the source of this diversion from normality. To be precise, Antauri was becoming worried about Mandarin.
The leader was becoming more distant as of late. While the others reveled in the newly acquired free time and bonded more from this change, Antauri couldn't help but fret over it. It was so unlike his brother it was almost disturbing.
Mandarin was a a hard leader no doubt, but Antauri knew that he was only like that because he wanted them to be prepared for whatever the universe threw at them - because he cared.
This increasing introversion was most out of character and a little frightening.
He'd tried to approach his friend about it once, but the leader simply waved him of and ordered him "not to worry about it" and said that he was being overly analytical.
He was most concerned with how Mandarin was closing himself off from the strengthening bonds that were being formed by the others. Mandarin never joined in the various merry-making the others came up with, and Antauri realized that he did not want to appear "weak" in front of them, but surely smiling and having fun wasn't a "weakness."
His absence from the bond that was tightly being weaved was distressing.
Furthermore he was closing himself off from Antauri. Mentally, he was retracting his aura from Antauri's awareness. Physically, the time between their mutual meditation sessions became longer and longer, and the orange monkey had gradually become less and less willing to discuss his thoughts and plans with Antauri, both as his Second-in-Command and as his friend.
Instead, Mandarin mulled over them in silence, as if having abandoned the advice of his friend in favour of listening to the alluring whisperings of some dark mistress.
There was the need for a bit of personal space and then there was deliberate isolation. Antauri resolved to approach his leader again on the subject. Soon.
Since the Battle with Skeleton King, training had both intensified and eased up. They were all being pushed harder during training, but Mandarin seemed to have had some sort of revelation and allowed them all more free time. That was fine with him. His circuits were starting to wear down.
"Thought I'd find you here," the red monkey said. He was once again standing in the entryway to the kitchen watching the unofficial team chef dash around in preparation of some dish.
The white monkey whirled around to face him with a smile alighting her face.
"Where else would I be?"
"Don't know, thought you might have taken up some sort of hobby, with all that free time you've had lately."
Her smile faded somewhat, or it at least became less sincere. "Yes... all my free time. Maybe cooking is my hobby."
"Nah, a hobby is something you do for fun to eat up time. Cooking is a profession for you. You have to do it or else you wouldn't survive the day."
"Like you taking off for a 'quick trip'?"
"Exactly. Now, what wondrous concoction are we working on today?" He came over rubbing his hands in preparation. The counter had assorted spices, flour, cooking utensils, and one very large mess assembled on top-it felt almost like home.
"Cocodip for the Banana Spicecake."
"You know I hate bananas right?" He looked as if he'd just bitten into something sour.
"There's also blueberry pound cake for it."
"Now you're talking. So, what's our first step, oh master chef?"
"First, we need to check on the cakes to make sure they're not burning."
"Don't tell me, tell the audience."
"What audience?" Helen looked around the room and out into the halls for any other team members that might have popped up.
"The one we're trying to sell our million dollar recipes to. They're tuning in from all over the cosmos."
Helen gave him a bewildered and confused look but nodded and went along with it. She really did need to check on the cakes.
"Could you keep whipping the dip?" she asked.
"Yes'm. You see here folks, you want to keep at this until the dip is nice and smooth in texture-no lumps." The red monkey was talking towards the empty room as if there were a camera crew recording their every move.
"When it's perfectly smooth then you need to add the powdered milk," Helen chimed in. She was playing along with his little shenanigans for now. "Continue to whip the dip until all of it is mixed very finely."
"Now, you can add whatever type of chocolate you want. I like mine to be of the dark chocolate variety, but for this one we're simply going to add powdered chocolate substance. If you want you can melt chocolate chips and pour them into the mix, or go ahead and add them as raw chocolate chips."
"If you do that then you need to be sure and crush them up while you stir."
"Afterwords, you put the mix in the microwave for about..."
"Thirty minutes. Let the dip melt. Once that is done, you should continue to whip it until it has turned to a nice dark brown color. Feel free to keep adding chocolate and reheating until it is to your liking."
"After the break we'll show you our finished products."
"What are you two doing?" Nova asked. She had come upon the two talking to empty air and displaying unfinished cooking to it as if they were teaching someone how to make it.
"Nothing," Helen said, embarrassed. She quickly took back the dip and began the previously mentioned final touches to it.
"We were just goofing off," Sprx said. He was far less embarrassed than his cooking partner. "Got a problem with that, darlin'?"
"Yes," Nova said. "There are better things to do than goof off. You could be putting in more practice-which you desperately need, may I remind you."
"Sheesh, you've been spending way to much time with Mandarin. Lighten up. It's okay to have fun every once in awhile."
"Not when we have higher priorities. We're not like other people, we have a Universe to save."
"Well if fate is on our side-which I'm not saying it is-then we'll win regardless of how many practice hours we put in. So I'd rather have a good time than be stuck never being good enough or prepared enough for every little disaster."
Nova glared at the two cyborgs in the kitchen. They were both just so frustrating. It was like they didn't even care that this was the only life they'd get so they had better do something important with it.
"Why don't you join us?" Sprx asked.
"What?" both females called out. Their eyes were wide with disbelief and incredulity. They looked at each other then away; both were angry at the male for suggesting such a thing.
"It won't be that bad. We can put you in charge of the salad or something easy."
"I don't think so," Nova was indignant. As if she couldn't handle something as simple as cooking. "I have better things to do than behave like a lunatic while making everyone's meal. I am not some weak little bimbo." She stormed out in a self-righteous fury.
Helen remained silent at the parting shot and went back to scouring the cabinets for that box of pasta make.
"Don't let her get to ya," Sprx told her.
"I don't."
"Oh come on, I was trying to be a good person and offer some sort of compromise. Would it have been that bad if she made the salad?"
"No, I suppose not. It's very hard to mess up salad," her tone was still stiff and formal with a slightly offended edge.
"Hel... Do you want me to leave?"
"No... No you can stay. Please. You haven't been in here in a while."
"Yeah, sorry about that, but every time I tried it seemed like Mandarin would drag me off for some more training. I'm not that bad of a fighter."
"It's all right. You have a duty to uphold that requires a lot of your time. I'm not mad at you."
"Whatever; as if this job is all that important. Really, the only reason this planet needs protection is because we attract all these monsters and crazies."
"It is important. It's what you were created for. You can't honestly tell me that your old life was so spectacular that you'd give up all this for it. It's so monumentally important that the very fate of the universe hangs on the outcome. You were created to be a hero, Sprx. You were created to do this."
"Oh? And what do you know about our creation? Did the Mystics tell you all about us? What makes you think that what we do is that important that we were literally made for it?"
"I... do not know much beyond what the Verans told you all. I was informed before I was bound to Antauri that he was a key player in the fate of worlds. That it would be he that would help guide the Chosen One-the one our order is devoted to finding and helping, who will bring the universe into a peaceful era. And think about it-there are only six of you in all of existence. This Robot is far too convenient to be anything other than made for you. These monsters are coming out now that you are here-you're rushing the Universe to the final climax of good versus evil. I know you value your independence and freewill, but is it really so painful to believe that you have a purpose? One of great importance and stature?"
"... Maybe, Hel. Maybe," Sprx said with a sigh. He began to cut up the ingredients for the salad. His posture was severely changed from the confident and playful on he came in with.
Helen let the subject drop and turned to her own preparation of the meal.
Sometimes, she thought, Antauri was a much easier companion than even Sprx.
Salad. Something easy.
Nova stormed towards the training rooms, looking the very picture of an enraged tornado and likewise threatening to tear apart anything that looked at her funny.
I don't do 'easy'.
They just didn't take this – the Team, their Fate - seriously. They didn't. That idiot Sprx seemed to have some sort of commitment issues and Helen really should just know better considering her upbringing on Paralladoll.
I am not 'easy'. I am not weak.
"What has angered you this time?" a neutral voice asked – interested enough to ask, but not likely to care about the actual answer.
Nova looked up to see the orange leader exiting the adjoining room.
"Those two in the kitchen," she huffed and continued pacing down the halls, slowing down a bit when his footsteps sounded behind her. "They seem to think this is all some big joke, some stupid nine-to-five day job where you can just come home and forget all about it until the next time you check in!"
"Quite."
Mandarin had become oddly sparing with his angry rants these days and more introverted as well. Sometimes he'd just watch them and she got the feeling he was quietly evaluating them - not only as fighters and Team members, but somehow also measuring them against some greater ideal.
It reminded her of Master Offay – one could never be good enough, learn enough, accomplish enough. You could only become better and there were always somebody stronger than you out there.
"They aggravate me as well," Mandarin said, calmer than usual; but his voice was full of the standard irritation whenever the subject was the pilot or Antauri's significant other. "Such lax behavior. Such flippancy. Both are weak, but do not care to improve."
Nova didn't care to remind Mandarin that Helen, because of her 'malleable body structure' or… something (she admittedly zoned out when Gibson started gibbering about all the fascinating characteristics of Helen's physique), wasn't much use in hand-to-hand combat. Nova didn't care right now and she knew that Mandarin didn't ever either.
The yellow monkey simply huffed in agreement.
"There's still much to learn," Nova said angrily. "And so many people are counting on us to be better than most! And they're just messing around with cakes and imaginary friends!"
Mandarin regarded her quietly for a moment with that calculating look in his eyes.
"I can teach you, Nova, to rise above the crowd. If you are willing to learn."
Nova paused for a moment. There was something… oddly serious about the proposal. It wasn't just a "Yeah, what a pair of wusses - let's go spar some more," - it held a deeper meaning she couldn't quite get at. As if she might be agreeing to something more than just extra training.
What, are you afraid it might bruise? Give you a black eye? Would you rather go do something easy? Like salad?
She sent him a hard glare and firmly said: "I'm ready for anything."
Mandarin smiled enough to show a bit of teeth. "You will be."
Laughter drew him in - toward the homely smells of baked goods and cheerful smiles that had become more and more normal as of late. Since that Final Climactic Battle and the subsequent ice-cream raid the general mood of the team had become much more peaceful and happy. Otto was more than glad for that, he was a naturally happy person who liked to see others happy. Mandarin had finally come around and realized that fighting all the time wasn't going to solve their problems and had even let him call him by nick-name more often.
The green monkey wandered into the kitchen where he found Sprx and Helen shuffling around making dinner and jokes. He had to smile as well at the delicious scents that filled him up and at the same time let him know just how empty he was.
"Hey guys," he said.
The red and white monkeys looked up and him with familiar and jovial smiles that had his own thousand-watt grin spreading across his muzzle.
"Hello, Otto," Helen said. "What can we do for you?"
"Um, is dinner almost ready?"
"Not quite." Otto was pretty sure he'd never actually heard Helen laugh before. It was nice. It was like little bells tinkling with joy. "But if you help, it'll get done a lot faster."
"Okay!" He joyfully skipped over toward the counter and began stirring the pasta as instructed. "So, what're you two laughin' 'bout?"
"Oh, just some silly little joke that Sprx heard one time," Helen replied. She had a very pleasant smile as well. She almost seemed to glow with happiness - and considering her upbringing and species she just might be.
"What? It's a good joke," Sprx said. His own familiar lopsided grin firmly planted on his face.
"Can I hear it?" Otto asked.
"I don't know, you might not get it."
"Please?" Otto bugged his eyes and jutted his bottom lip out in an innocent "pouty" expression like a young child would.
Helen broke down laughing again at that and Sprx even gave in to a chuckle or two before he relented and agreed to re-tell the joke.
"What's brown and sticky?" Sprx asked.
"Um..." Otto looked blankly at him then glanced over at the expectant Helen who seemed to be having difficulty controlling her laughter. Her eyes were lit up in excitement and happiness and her intermittent laughter was distracting him. "... A stick?"
Sprx's mouth dropped open as he stared at Otto in shock and Helen full out threw her head back and laughed in delight. She had to set her knife down and clutch her stomach before she accidentally did someone in from her shaking.
"How'd you know that?" Sprx asked. He was still smiling somewhat - but that was really more because of Helen's reaction than anything - but he was looking at Otto like he couldn't quite comprehend what had just happened.
"Well, sticks are brown and stick-y," Otto intelligently replied. He didn't quite get what was so funny about the joke or his figuring out the answer, but that was okay, his smile was still disarmingly large and he was enjoying hanging out with the two.
"Yeah, but - never mind," Sprx said and just shook his head before going back to prepping for dinner.
Helen finally got herself under control and wiped the tears that had gathered at the corner of her eyes away and only let out a few small chuckles every now and again.
Otto couldn't help allowing his smile to grow just a little more.
So this is what home feels like...
Cold.
It's so cold.
I hate this. I hate the stupid cold metal floor and my stupid wet fur. I hate the stupid little frozen water droplets all over the place and the stupid controls making this and stupid Mandarin for tricking me into this.
'Teach you rise above the crowd'. Teach me to be strong, hah. I am strong. What is he trying to prove - what is he trying to do?
Nova had another particularly violent shiver (that looked something more like a demon possession gone wrong or a mild seizure) as she glared at the reflective glass that separated her from the no-doubt-smug-and-warm orange monkey that was putting her through this.
She wouldn't cry out though. She wasn't weak.
Her jaw was clenched too tightly from trying to keep her teeth from chattering anyway.
This is stupid. Mandarin is stupid. I hate this.
Wrapping her tail around herself provided more emotional comfort than physical. She could see her breath, wiggling in front of her muzzle like a faint ghost and she felt a flash of warm hatred run through her at the sight.
This isn't natural. No planet could be this cold - my circuits are icing over. Monkeys can't survive cold.
I will not break. Not in here, not like this - not at his hands.
She tried to latch onto that warm anger in a feeble hope that it would help her in some way.
Cold. Cold. Cold. It's so cold. I hate cold.
Plip.
"Steady," the blue monkey said to himself as he gently tipped the beaker in his hand over the other one placed before him on the counter. He crouched down to eye level with the beaker on the counter, watching the few drops he needed slowly fall into it.
He quickly backed away with a held breath scanning the new chemical mixture for any adverse reactions. A few moments of stillness passed before he slowly ventured back to his original position. He switched out the beaker's positions and scribbled a few notes on the notebook beside him before setting off to refrigerate the new mixture.
The sound of rambunctious laughter reached him and he listened for a moment.
"I'm becoming sentimental in my age," he told himself. He shook off the silly notions of joining the rest of the team in whatever mischief they were creating now and forced his attention back on his work. It wouldn't do to daydream.
Besides, he was much more like Mandarin and Antauri - a silent, educated individual who didn't revel in noise and bad humour. He doubted either of them would be up for random company at the moment.
He observed the liquid beginning to freeze over, even at the moderately cool temperatures in the refrigerator.
"Interesting."
Small, delicate flakes of snow grouped on the glass, slowly covering the image of the quivering yellow monkey inside the simulation room. Staring into his reflection of the glass, Mandarin felt nothing but the cool metal of the control knob against his robotic sensory receptors.
He regarded her struggle with a detached air and superior knowledge that pain and experience were the only teachers who continuously successfully taught their students. Anything less was weakness. The weak couldn't - shouldn't - survive. There was no safe haven for them anywhere, no matter how many cities they built or how big they herded together, they would inevitably fall.
Unless they served the strong, that is.
His sisterly companion wrapped her arms around herself, shaking with anxiety at the cold she couldn't escape. It should have bothered him, but it didn't.
The distressed look in her paled eyes and the way her mouth curled up in want to scream her misery at anybody who would listen should have bothered him, but it didn't.
"As surely as Shuggazoom will fall then so will the rest of the universe follow it."
That skeletal slave was right about one thing, Shuggazoom was too important to simply leave unguarded, unprotected, un-mastered. It was one of the last peaceful planets left among the galaxies - if it fell into anyone's hands the other surrounding planets would follow it's lead, causing a domino effect until the very universe was at the mercy of the Shuggazoomian Master.
And he had been given the planet.
It was his to protect, to guard, to rule. He was the Chosen One. It was his destiny to go forth.
He could not have weak subjects. If the yellow monkey on the other side of the glass truly was willing to become as strong as she needed to be, she'd have to prove it. If she couldn't even handle a change in weather how could he trust her to go forth in his name and possibly rule in his stead?
The fear she emanated almost seemed to penetrate the thick glass separating them and seeped into the control booth; an intoxicating scent of superiority, of control, of power.
It was an obvious fact that he couldn't be everywhere, but he could have trusted stewards who would represent him to the masses. The masses which would follow his commands as surely as any soldier follows his general, his leader, his lord, his god.
The power to without restraint follow his Destiny. The power to do as he wished. The power to do to anybody as he deemed best. The power to do anything to anybody because he could.
He could do anything.
He could wield Chaos into Cosmos.
He could rule the world into pandemonium and back into utopia if he felt like it. It didn't matter. When you can do anything, it doesn't really matter what you do. Nobody can stop you. Nobody can hold any sort of laughable ethics over your head; nobody can swat you off to one side because they don't quite like your tone or feel you aren't being sensitive enough or polite enough about saving the entire Universe.
Power. It didn't matter over who or for what purpose. Just having it was enough.
The quivering entity behind the icy glass suddenly held no relation to him, she was no more the sisterly companion who he grudgingly respected for her stamina and technique, her golden fur and livid, pink eyes no longer evoked any feelings of familiarity; any emotional ties, any recognition of her as a coherent, capable being had evaporated the second his hands tightly grasped around the controls that deemed whether she would perish or prosper.
There was nobody in that chamber but a trembling someone under Mandarin's absolute control.
This in particular should have bothered him immensely, but it didn't.
He wasn't bothered until after his sovereignty was thwarted with a sharp glance and familiar she-warrior cry as he suddenly found himself ingrained into the wall by the frozen glass that used to separate the Training and Control rooms.
Dinner was ready and he had been sent as the messenger. All because he hadn't helped prepare the meal.
Honestly, shouldn't we have a more regulatory, methodological solution for this? Gibson wondered as he paced down the hall toward the training rooms. He imagined at least Nova would be in there.
A sudden shrill, war-cry overtook the halls and he instinctively ran towards it. Seconds later the world turned white hot, then black, and gradually formed again with various spots of colours before his eyes.
The walls that held the training room were bloated with various panels charred and falling off. He dazedly made his way toward the blown out doorway and searched inside.
Two brightly coloured splotches were lying in the now black and grey room - not moving.
The blue monkey reacted automatically in yelling for help and hurrying over to the nearest unconscious monkey. He turned the yellow one over and noted with relief that she was breathing - if only shallowly. Taking stock of her injuries was impossible at the moment; for one she didn't appear to have any, and for another he couldn't quite get his higher cognitive abilities to get over the fact that he hadn't even felt the Robot shake.
What kind of power are we dealing with?
