Though he was still underground, Grasstown lived up to its name: it was the first time he really saw grass grow in such volume. He had seen patches of it here and there in the village, but the grass here continued for as far as his eyes could catch. It was certainly a refreshing sight: with the constant dull-brown of the village and the dark, metal halls of the Egg Corridor, seeing something as bright and uplifting as grass really helped lift his mood. The air smelt great as well, although, with so much grass, it begged the question on where it got its water and sunlight to sustain itself.
His teleporter was placed just in front of a house at the end of a long field of grassy hills. It looked liveable, but judging from the dust in the windows and the chips in the paint, it didn't seem as though anyone had lived in it for quite a time. Still, he was sent here to find someone, so he couldn't afford to leave any stone unturned: he walked up to the door, and knocked on it twice. There was no answer, but the door swung open, its rusted hinges creaking and shrieking all the while.
The house looked pretty nice, aside from how old and dusty everything looked. Two floors, containing the bare essentials for a house, and lacking things like a living room. A foyer, a mock-kitchen, and upstairs, two small bedrooms. There was an outhouse in the backyard, as well. It was awfully…cozy. But there was no signs of life anywhere.
He walked into the kitchen area, taking a look around to see if there might be any clues about whoever lived here. Most of the dishes and cookware had been undisturbed for longer than he could tell: the assorted ladles hanging off the wall above a cooking pot had cobwebs practically coating each of them. Peculiarly, the pot itself was in much better condition, looking totally spotless; in fact, it looked recently used. It was damp, and there was evidence of a fire underneath it.
He reached under the pot with his left hand, feeling for the materials used to create the fire. Not firewood or drybrush, but charcoal. Most of it burnt white, though he managed to get a good fistful of the unscathed, combustible black stuff. While it wasn't used, it still felt warm, like a fire had been there only recently.
He heard a footstep gently fall from behind him. Without wasting a moment, he pocketed the charcoal in his pants-pocket, and withdrew his Polar Star with his other hand, spinning to face however was coming up to him. Blending into the shadows was a man…maybe? It certainly wasn't a Mimiga, but it didn't look like himself or Misery. It was wearing a green robe and hood, covering nearly its whole head, hiding a chunk of its face. Its mouth was sill plainly visible, and its lips looked normal enough, though its hunched form and oddly textured skin, wherever it was visible, told him that it didn't look exactly friendly.
It did not flinch at all when he drew his weapon and pointed it at him. It remained totally unmoving, as if it didn't even notice him standing there. "Oho," it laughed darkly, its lips curling upwards, revealing uneven, horribly-groomed teeth. "A soldier from the surface?" It spoke its words slowly, and seemed to spit each one. "I had thought the war was over."
Hold on, this thing spoke like it could know who, or what, he was. Recently, with all his efforts going into working for the others, he hadn't really had a whole lot of time to stop and ask people if they knew anything about him; his own identity had taken a back seat. And this thing – whatever it was – might just be able to tell him something. What did it mean by 'from the surface'? What war was he in? Were their others like him? Was there a way out of these endless caves?
He opened his mouth to ask a question, when the thing raised its scaly, misshapen, four-fingered hand to stop him. "I have no answers for you," it said, almost gleefully. "I'm…afraid…that I can't help you," it chortled some more. "I can tell you that there is a town about an hours march from here straight down the fields. You might find what – or maybe who – you are looking for." He kept is Polar Star raised, looking disappointed that this thing didn't know – or maybe just wasn't telling – anything about him. "I have…acquired…the house for myself, since its tenants…left…some time ago," it continued, that creepy smile never waning from its lips. "I'm only interested in the pot, however. My…brethren…enjoy eating their food…raw. And moving. But I prefer the…humane…approach."
He took his eyes off the thing for only a moment, to glance quickly back at the pot. Just what could it have been used for? And it said there were others like it? That eat their food live? He turned back to face the thing, but just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, having melted into the shadows. There was no longer any movement in the house, aside from him; no footsteps, no creaking in the floors, no rusted hinges swinging doors open and closed, nothing. Still, he didn't feel alone. It felt as though that thing's eyes were still watching him with every motion he made.
It said that there was a town about an hour away from this place? Well…Kazuma clearly wasn't here. It would be a good idea to start heading towards the town of Grasstown before he wasted any more time. Although, what he wanted more was to get away from this house, before that thing that was watching him got any ideas.
Its estimate was off by a few minutes, but he reached the town after an uneventful hour's trek through the grassy fields. It was quite a bit larger than the Mimiga village, although it looked almost as deserted as the house at the beginning of the fields. There were bats lining the roofs of the houses, and there were frogs – huge ones – scouring the grassy grounds of the town as well. A wonderful habitat for wildlife, with no shortage of living spaces to choose from, although lacking in many human niceties that would make the place tolerable to live in. The infestations were a problem, too.
Somewhere among all these buildings was Kazuma. It should be an easy task to find him; after all, it's not like he could get lost in a crowd. And according to Sue, he 'needed help', so there was a good chance he was just locked in one of them somewhere. Couldn't be too hard: just knock on some doors, and if someone answers – oh, wait. What if he ran into more of those…things? He didn't appeal to the idea of having to talk with one of those creepy, scaly things again. And who knows if they'll be as polite as the last one.
From his vantage point, high above the town, he had a clear view of everything. There being only one entrance or exit into the town, all the buildings were designed so that their doors were facing it, as if there was only one large street cutting down the centre of the entire settlement. One of the buildings, peculiarly, had no windows anywhere on it: only a single door on one side Well, if a person was here and didn't want to draw attention to himself, that'd be a good place to hide. It was as good a spot to start as any.
Kazuma had ceased his pacing a half hour ago, and was instead lying on the cold stone floor, face-up, counting the tiles on the ceiling for the second time. He knew there were exactly seven-hundred-forty-four tiles there, but he had to keep his mind on something – and he got bored from counting all the seconds until Sue would come to rescue him. His stomach growled fiercely at him once again: it was the thirty-first time it had done that since he had been locked in this building.
He had considered typing up some kind of program on his computer to pass the time. Perhaps a calculator (it didn't even have that), or a random number generator, or a clock, or some kind of tic-tac-toe game, or anything. Or maybe trying to contact Sue again – mostly for giggles, since he knew Sue was on her way and couldn't possibly be at her computer. Or maybe trying to find someone else on this network. It spanned the whole island, after all; there's a chance that someb–
Several knocks on the door. Was it–could it be? Had Sue finally arrived and was going to rescue him and feed him and get him away from this building and find their mom and get them off this island and back to their homes on the mainland? He was so excited from the very thought that she was finally here to get him away from all of this caused him to forget how to breathe for a moment. "Sue?!" he called frantically, flipping onto his hands and knees. "You're finally here! Thank heaven! I've been going nuts here without anyone to talk to!" He spoke so quickly and excitedly that he didn't give her a chance to respond. "Sue, go to the crack in the wall to the right of the door. We can talk to each other face to face there. I need to see someone other than my own reflection in the monitor."
He crawled over to the crack in the wall, immediately after giving Sue the instruction. He eyed the opening frantically, desperately waiting for her to show him her face. What he saw instead wasn't his familiar sister – but someone, or rather, something, else. It wasn't a human; its skin was too sleek and shiny for any human. But it moved like one, and wore clothes like one – it even had hair. Who was this that was knocking on his door?
"Who are you?" he asked, suddenly much more nervous than excited. "You're not Sue. Where is Sue? Are you a friend of hers?" He nodded quickly at that last question. "Oh, you are?" he asked, relieved. He'd be a bit more incredulous, normally, but he was feeling pretty desperate at the moment. "Sue told me she'd be here herself. Why would she send someone else in her place? Does she just not have the time for her brother?" He was going to respond, to tell Kazuma about Sue's predicament back at the village, but Kazuma cut him off again. "Well, you look like a nice young…uh, man," he continued. "If Sue trusts you, than I trust you. Could you help me out of here? I'd really, really like to get out of here." He nodded again. "Thanks!" Kazuma said, a smile beaming on his exhausted face. "I have this key here. I found it on the floor in here when I first got locked in. Try it on the door, will you? There are no keyholes on this side."
Kazuma's hand extended through the crack, his hand balled into a fist as it grasped the rusted key. To be honest, he didn't really expect the key to work on the door anyway. Why would the key to his own door be locked in with him? But it was worth a try all the same, after all.
He extended his own hand, and accepted the key from Kazuma. It was so rusted it looked ready to just fall apart from the slightest shock, although its teeth remained well defined: it could still unlock a door, assuming it held together long enough to survive the turns. Unfortunately, the door didn't have any keyholes on the outside, either. The key must belong to some other building, naturally. The door was rusted shut all the same, though; no matter how strongly he pulled or pushed on it, the door would not move an inch.
"Sounds like its not working," Kazuma yelled through the door. "The key must belong somewhere else, then. Well, that's just great." He pulled the chair from the desk to the door, sitting and contemplating what others options there might be. "I don't have any other ideas, then. We could try to force it open, but it might take more than either of us can–"
"Huzzah!" came a familiar voice from the roof of the building. He looked up, drawing his Polar Star as he saw a memorable figure gracelessly drop down from above. That wide, rectangular shape; those stubs for arms; those giant eyes…
He dived to the side, tucking and rolling back onto his feet. Balrog had specifically attempted to land on him – he was lucky that his reflexes were as good as they were. The heavy landing Balrog made shook the house just behind him, and unsteadied both of their balances, though they kept standing. His kept his hands steady on the Polar Star, shifting his shoulders to reposition the missile launcher on his back.
Balrog didn't look too thrilled to see him, either. His face was flat and virtually unreadable as he eyed the soldier in front on him. "Did you know that the Mimiga wasn't Sue?" he asked, wasting no time, although he didn't exactly seem too torn up about the misunderstanding.
He nodded his head, remembering Toroko's abduction clearly. He still blamed himself for that. "What's this about Sue?" Kazuma asked loudly, suddenly very worried. "What's happened to my sister? Who's out there?"
Balrog glanced at the door to the building, but didn't answer whoever was in it, instead keeping his focus on the soldier. "That's right," he said. "She wasn't Sue! You should have seen the Doctor; he had a huge fit. He was yelling and cursing, and throwing stuff all over the place. He even smacked Misery around pretty hard." He smiled wide, his eyes lighting up, remembering the event fondly. "Poor girl, don't you think?"
He washed the smile off his face quickly, getting back to business. "But after all, we can't defy our master. So goeth the rule." He looked perturbed, spitting out the last sentence venomously. "Anywho, I'm here to break you apart. Doctor's orders, of course. I have your prescription for pain right here. Ya ready?"
Balrog rushed straight toward him, charging like a bull, throwing all his weight behind it. Balrog was fast for a walking briefcase! He dodged to the side, firing off a few shots with his Polar Star into Balrog's casing. Whatever he was, it didn't seem like it affected him that deeply; he just kind of shrugged it off and charged again. Again, another dodge, although it was met with a surprise projectile fired out of Balrog's mouth: a bubble, not unlike the one Misery used on Toroko when they first met. Normally he wouldn't have been too afraid of a small bubble, of all things, although he wasn't aware of just what Balrog was ultimately capable of. For all he knew, he'd burst into flame if he let that thing hit him.
He jumped high, going over the bubble and over another of Balrog's charges, and landed on the side of the building Kazuma was hiding in, grasping a plank of wood that supported the foundation with his left hand. Still holding the Polar Star in his right, he took careful aim at Balrog, and lit him up, firing as quickly as he had before in the Egg Corridor. Balrog met each blast, shaking them all off like before, although his…skin? Armour? Whatever it was, it was singeing and flaking off with each hit; it didn't look like Balrog could actually feel any of those hits.
This new position, away from any threat Balrog could pose to him, was perfect: even if he couldn't feel any of those shots, he'd still have to give up eventually, or die, like the beast in the Corridor. After a few more pot-shots, however, Balrog suddenly leapt up into the air, like he had in the village…and started flapping his arms rapidly, his eyes closed as he focused his effort into the action, as if he was trying to fly. More surprising, though, was that it was working, and Balrog managed to at least stay level in the air, nearly perpendicular to him. Just as fast as he could charge on the ground, he flew straight from him, intending to crush him between his heavy bulk and the building.
He was caught off-guard, seeing something as large and heavy as Balrog manage to fly in the air just by flapping its little stubs on its sides. It questioned every natural law he could think of – but now was not the time to really think about the science behind it. Snapping to his senses, he released his grip on the building before Balrog could make his attack, falling harmlessly to the grassy ground as Balrog got a face-full of metal instead.
Kazuma's eyes were glued to the little hole in the wall, trying to pay attention to the action with the little window he was given. It was understandably difficult, however: aside from some random thumping noises and a flash of colour as someone ran by, it was very difficult to make sense of whatever was going on out there. All he really knew was that one of them was talking about his sister before they started to fight.
A huge crashing noise rang through the air, shaking the building from top to bottom, rattling the desk and the tall glass tube, and shaking the dust from the rafters in the ceiling. Something huge had just hit the building, and hard. "Hey, what the–" he yelled, watching the ceiling to make sure nothing was going to fall on him. "Someone's in here, guys! Knock it off!"
He couldn't hear Kazuma's voice, being muffled from the inside of the building, and him running and jumping, keeping his distance away from Balrog, working his trigger finger on the Polar Star for all it was worth. He would have used his missile launcher by now, but it didn't have a whole lot of ammunition to it, and the Polar Star was really leaving its mark on Balrog, so he held off for the time being. Balrog, surprisingly, didn't have any more tricks hidden up his incisions – nothing, like, breathing fire or teleporting or something, to go with his flight. He was also rather predictable: charging, firing his bubble, and occasionally leaving the ground. All easily to counter.
Balrog was having difficulty continuing his fight; he was slowing with each it, and unable to keep his flight up for more than a second. To his credit, Balrog was a smart fighter: he was constantly mixing up his patterns and strategies, trying to get a one-up against the guy. But his physical shortcomings – being too large a target, and only having two options specifically for offence – were dragging him down until he could no longer take any more. He was eventually forced still, too damaged to chase his opponent anymore. He couldn't fall, either: he wouldn't be able to get back up.
"Just what are you?" he asked. He had a limp towards his right side. "Only Arthur's been able to put up a fight like that. You're something else…jumping all over the place, hitting me with that…toy gun of yours. Man…" he sighed, 'bending' at the knees wearily. "It was a bad idea to fight you alone."
"It's a bad idea to let you do anything alone," a female voice chided. She sounded irritated, and her voice cracked a little bit. "It's a miracle you know how to place one foot in front of the other. Honestly, you practically let him beat you, Balrog." Both of them searched the area, trying to find the source of the voice – it seemed to come from everywhere. "Up here," she called, only to Balrog. They both looked up, onto the locked building. A snow-white-skinned woman with blue hair wearing green was standing on the edge, looking down at them both, with a wooden staff in her left hand.
"We meet again," Misery said, looking at the soldier that time. From her tone of voice, it was no greeting. "Do you remember me?" she asked condescendingly, knowing that he couldn't have forgotten. "I hadn't noticed before…" She stopped, and suddenly, with a flash from her staff, she faded away from their sight, only to reappear right in front of him again, almost close enough to touch. He kept his Polar Star raised. "But aren't a soldier from the surface?" She paid absolutely no heed to his weapon, as if she knew he wasn't going to fire. "I wasn't aware that there were any left."
"Misery!" Balrog yelled, offended that she wouldn't pay any attention to him. "Watch out, this one's a fighter. Stronger than a Mimiga! Stronger than Arthur, even! He whooped me good!"
"Yes, I know, I was watching. I even told you I was watching. Honestly, Balrog, I sometimes wonder about you. How could the Doctor ever find you useful?"
"I'm sure he was thinking the same thing when you didn't bring back the right Mimiga," he replied brazenly. "Pretty darn sure. I see your bruises have healed nicely." Misery was aptly named; she could make him wish he had never been born, if she could. But, because of the Crown's influence, she couldn't simply pull him apart atom by atom whenever she wanted.
"How dare you!" she practically screeched, twirling around to stare bullets into Balrog. "You're the one who found that useless girl! You said you had the nose of a bloodhound!"
"Heh, and dare I say, just who has the brain of one, as well?" he replied devilishly. He would have been dead twice over by now if it wasn't for the Doctor and the Crown, but that still didn't mean that Misery wasn't going to beat him later – but it was just too good of an opportunity to press her buttons to miss. "The one time clean-up duty was the better choice."
She was so furious at his sudden boldness, that she began to quiver. Her blue hair began to frazzle itself all out of shape, and her grip on her wooden staff was nearly strong enough to cause it to splinter. She raised her staff, and in an instant, Balrog began to glow a pitch-white; he was unable to move or speak, frozen in place by her magic. His normally grey 'skin' began to change colours, slowly turning to a dark green; his face, normally as flat as paper, grew quickly to take a more pronounced snout-like shape, and he suddenly formed a jaw-line. His arms and legs grew exponentially, growing long digits with rounded tips, with strong forearms and thighs. All the while he grew in size, until he was almost as large as the building they were all standing next to. Slowly, he began to take a recognizable shape of an average frog – like the many casually milling around Grasstown. If Balrog could feel pain, he imagined that the transformation would have felt particularly gruesome.
"Soldiers are your duty, Balrog," Misery said calmly, almost enough to be frightening. She began to melt away from sight once again. "Be glad I'm helping your useless self this time. Come back when this one is in pieces." And then she was gone.
Balrog was a big guy, normally, and the beast in the Egg Corridor was fairly huge too, but this thing that Balrog was turning into was the size of a house. Would his Polar Star work against this thing? It might be a better idea to switch to missiles, now…
Once his transformation was apparently completed, Balrog made a few clumsy steps forward – having been used to his new body for all of ten seconds, his movements were very slow, cautious, and laboured. He managed to stay standing, although even sitting still, his balance was all over the place. If he tilted just a little too far to either side, he'd crash to the ground. It'd put him in a tactical advantage if Balrog had, although if he fell on the building Kazuma was in, it'd probably be totalled. The building looked like it was having difficulty standing by itself.
What exactly was he supposed to do? Fight this thing? Balrog was having difficulty standing, particularly after beating him so soundly just a few minutes ago. While it was huge, and it could cause quite a bit of property damage in its state, it hardly seemed threatening. Could Balrog even see him? Maybe, if he was quiet, he could just slip underneath him, and maybe shoot the door open, and he and Kazuma could–
A huge, webbed pad came crashing down, missing him by only a few inches. Balrog was looking right at him, and trying his hardest to squash him with his new, enormous size, but because of suddenly having a different pair of eyes, he was having trouble with his depth perception and recognition. He lifted the same pad again, shifting his aim to the right just slightly, and came down again.
He jumped backwards, narrowly dodging the thunderous pad, raising his Polar Star and firing. He had no specific place to aim at: the eyes, while quite a bit larger than Balrog's normally, were still extremely small compared to the rest of his new face. His nostrils were even smaller, so they were ruled out. He could try aiming down its throat, like he had in the Egg Corridor, although his mouth remained firmly closed. Without any other target, his just picked a spot on the frog's giant belly and unloaded a volley of shots. They all made direct hits, but Balrog didn't make a reaction to them at all. It was as if he had missed; Balrog didn't even slow his next swing, aiming for him again.
He widened the gap between them, running as far as the range on his Polar Star could reach before turning to fire some more shots. The same result. Balrog moved totally unnaturally for a frog: he did not hop at all, and instead crawled towards him sluggishly. One pad in front of the other, followed by some weak kicking from his hind legs. He was grunting weakly as he made each pull, trying to drag himself across the ground towards his target. All the while, he was firing shot after shot from his weapon at Balrog, and each shot seemed to simply bounce of his new, tough skin.
The process repeated once again – Balrog getting too close, taking a swing, missing, and crawling towards his target again, while he kept getting stung in the face by that little weapon of his. It was a stalemate so far: him, unable to hurt Balrog through his hard skin, and Balrog, unable to keep up.
He was running out of room to run to, though: Grasstown came to its inevitable end, simply stopping at a wall of stone. To either side of him were buildings; he could probably try to climb up one of them, or attempt to go over or under Balrog if he got too close, but all of his options were too risky for his liking. He had to think of a plan, and fast, before Balrog managed to pull himself closer.
He suddenly felt a wet, slimy tendril wrap tightly around his right wrist, holding him still. He looked to see where it could have come from, and saw that one of the smaller frogs that roamed around the town had him in its grip, apparently feeling the need to help its 'alpha' in subduing his prey. He tried pulling his arm free, but its tongue was much stronger than his arm; it took all he had simply not to be pulled to the ground. He reached for his Polar Star with his left hand, and took it from his right. With some hasty, poorly aimed shots, he managed to get the amphibian on its tongue, causing it to back off in pain and alarm.
He faced Balrog, when he was struck with his own grotesquely large, slimy tongue – apparently getting the idea from the smaller animal, Balrog open his mouth wide and shot out his tongue like a shot. He wasn't sure if Balrog was trying to use his tongue to pull him into his mouth, but even if he wasn't, it was a very effective weapon by itself: the tongue managed to get him right in the stomach, causing him to double over in pain as if he was struck with a tree. The tongue withdrew before lashing out again – he managed to see it coming this time and he evaded another devastating hit, but he was still nicked in the left shoulder, paralysing it with pain for a few moments.
He was backed into a wall, and there wasn't any places for him to hide, or to use to his tactical advantage. Not that hitting him with the Polar Star was working too well anyway. He tried to run to his right, behind one of the larger buildings, having some difficulty getting up speed with his stomach pains. Balrog didn't give him the chance; another devastating strike from that long, prehensile tongue, into his outer-left thigh. He collapsed to the ground, his leg feeling almost shattered from the impact, pulling himself along the ground with his good arm (still holding the Polar Star) and kicking with his legs, much like Balrog was doing.
He felt something dig into his leg in his left pocket, as he collapsed onto it. It felt like a large stone of some kind. Oh yeah, he was carrying around a piece of charcoal – that thing had spooked him in that house a while back, and he didn't think to put it back when he realized he had company.
He was in a pretty desperate spot, but he thought up of a plan with that piece of charcoal. His Polar Star didn't have an extremely long range, which was odd for a gun, but he bet his throwing arm was better than the weapon's. There were a lot of things that could go wrong with this one shot, but he was dead if he didn't at least try. His shoulder still aching from the hit, he pulled himself into a sitting position and reached into his pocket with his left hand to dig out the rock.
Balrog was still crawling slowly towards him, although his earlier urgency had subtly waned with the new trick he had learned. His tongue had retracted, lingering in his mouth for a moment – he wasn't too used to fighting like this, and his sensitive tongue picked up some rather displeasing tastes – before launching again. His opponent looked pretty hurt from the last two hits; if he managed to land another good hit, chances were he would finally bite the dust.
The moment that mouth opened to fire that tongue again, he threw the charcoal as hard as his shoulder could allow him into Balrog's maw. At the same moment, he threw his right hand forward, taking aim with his Polar Star, and firing a shot at the soaring rock. With superhuman aim and reflexes, he managed to land a perfect hit on the charcoal, causing it to burst into flame midair.
Just as the tongue lashed out again, the flaming briquette flew into his mouth, lodging itself underneath the tongue inside his jaw. Reflexively, he inhaled before making some odd croaking noises in an attempt to cough, his tongue stopping just short of the target. He only had a small window to work with: quickly dropping his Polar Star to the ground, he rotated the missile launcher onto the top of his right shoulder. Aiming down its sight and releasing the safety, he fired missile after missile into Balrog's open mouth. Mercifully, he was far enough away from the wall behind him to not be scorched by the back-blast any of the shots made, either.
A number of missiles missed their target – some missed Balrog entirely. But the bulk of his ammunition struck dead-on, blowing out the back of Balrog's throat and ripping apart his jaw from the inside.
Balrog did not die, however. Possibly thanks to Misery's magic, rather than crash, Balrog began his transformation again, but in reverse. His face flattened amidst all the explosions in mouth; his arms and legs shrank and lost all their definition; his slimy green skin lost all its colour and definition as it reverted to its old slate-grey; and he shrunk down to a much more agreeable size. Through the explosions and the transformation, Balrog seemed devastated, physically, with several burns and breaks all across his frame. Once his transformation was completed, back in his familiar old body, he took one look at the soldier – still pointing his missile launcher right at him, still loaded with one or two extra missiles – and promptly turned to run. Even with Misery's help, there was just no way he was ready to beat this guy.
He lowered his missile launcher, seeing Balrog concede the battle. He breathed a sigh of relief; that was way too close for his comfort. He knew, comparatively, he was in far better condition than Balrog was, but at least Balrog could still run. He was having a lot of difficulty just standing; his left leg was still pretty sore. He flipped the safety back on, and rotated the weapon back over his shoulder, across his back. He searched the ground nearby for his Polar Star; thankfully, still in arm's reach. Placing it back onto his belt, he began to attempt to stand under his own power.
He heard running footsteps pat the ground hard, growing louder as whatever was running to him got closer. He looked up, his hand quickly reaching for his Polar Star once again, but did not draw it when he saw it was a human. He was fairly tall – quite a bit taller than himself – and sported green hair. His skin was a fine, light tan, and his eyes were naturally very squinted, hiding the colours of his irises. He wore a long, clean, white lab-coat and a pair of brown pants overtop his red running shoes. "Are you alright?" he asked, running up to the hurt soldier, getting his shoulders underneath his right arm and helping him stand. "I have no idea what happened out here, but it sounded like one heck of a fight, with something huge. All the grass is torn up and everything out here. Are you okay?" he asked again. The soldier buckled underneath his own strength as he tried to stand, but he still managed to give the human a thumbs-up. He wasn't okay at the moment, his stomach still cramping and his leg still tense, but he'd live.
"That's good," he replied, relieved. "My name is Kazuma Sakamoto. You can just call me Kazuma, that's fine." They both began walking towards the building he was locked in just moments ago. "Thanks for busting me out of there. I was keeping my eyes glued to that little hole in the wall, there, trying to keep up with all the action, when the door blew open with a huge bang! Did you do that?" A huge bang? He didn't hear anything out-of-the-ordinary when he fought Balrog…oh, but some of his missiles missed Balrog completely. Maybe they kept going, and managed to blow open the door to the building? What a lucky shot! "Well, whatever, I'm out now. I thought I was going to starve…" Kazuma laughed at himself. "With all this excitement, I nearly forgot that I'm starving! Funny what a little action will do to you, huh?" The soldier couldn't agree more.
"So, what do you know about the Doctor?" Kazuma asked casually. He didn't respond. "I imagine Sue must have told you something about him. I was lucky enough to escape from him some time ago, but, unfortunately, my teleporter sent me here. I didn't have the software to change its coordinates either, so I've been stuck here ever since. It was lucky you came along when you did; I really don't know how much longer I can go without some food." They were approaching the building. Kazuma's plan was to just let the guy rest for a while – he really looked like he use it. "So, what's happened to Sue? She's alright, isn't she? She must have had some reason for not saving me herself, after all…"
Just as they entered the building, stepping over the rusted metal door that had been blown off its hinges, the tall, glass tube in the corner whirred to life. Just like the one in Arthur's house, its many lights began to flash as a steady, low, vibrating hum filled the room. In just an instant, a man was standing in the tube. He had stubby legs and stood shorter than Kazuma by a fairly large margin. He wore a clean, white lab coat as well, although it seemed to be a few sizes too large – it covered his whole body below his neck, so he couldn't tell what colour pants he was wearing (if any at all, frighteningly). His skin was a light Caucasian, with huge ears jutting far out on either side of his skull. He wore thick glasses with red lenses and a white frame: an odd set to use. But the most enrapturing feature of his was his white Mohawk, only a few centimetres tall from his scalp but it may as well have been shining like a beacon on his otherwise smooth dome.
He stepped off the platform, taking a glance around the room, before his gaze landed on Kazuma. Probably. It was tough to tell exactly what he was looking at behind those glasses. "Kazuma?!" he asked, totally bewildered, as if he had seen a ghost.
"Professor Booster!" Kazuma called, just as surprised, though still taking care of the soldier he was shouldering. "You're safe!"
"Yes, more or less," said Professor Booster. He looked around Kazuma, paying no attention to the injured soldier he was helping to safety. "And how is Sue? I noticed that she had escaped as well. Is she alright?"
"She's safe at the Mimiga village," he replied, helping the soldier to sit in the only chair in the building. "I've had a chance to speak with her over the network. She sounds okay. Once this guy's managed to catch his breath, we were going to head back."
Professor Booster took a look at the soldier. He was rubbing his stomach and his left thigh, trying to calm their pain. His face didn't say that he was in too much pain, though. He either healed pretty quick, or he was just crying wolf. But something else had caught Professor Booster's eye, causing him to gasp in surprise, stepping forward to get a closer look at him.
"Have you two met?" Kazuma asked. Professor Booster never reacted like that when he saw somebody new; maybe they had known each other when they were all still on the surface.
Professor Booster looked him over, eyeing every detail on the soldier as he could. The clothes, the hat, the hair, and most peculiarly, the skin, and the grooves on his face. The soldier made no sound, looking Professor Booster back in the glasses. Neither of them had an unfriendly expression, although he wasn't too comfortable with the Professor looking him over so diligently like that. "No…" Professor Booster began, sounding uncertain, as if he wasn't totally sure of his answer to the question. "No, we've never met. Never mind, in fact. We must hurry and find Sue. The Doctor has begun gathering the Mimiga; she could be in serious danger. I have reason to believe that he has become aware of the red flowers."
Kazuma looked unsure. "But, Sue isn't…will she be affected by the red flowers as well? Just like all the other Mim–"
"Kazuma," Professor Booster immediately snapped, silencing Kazuma immediately. "The Doctor has begun gathering the Mimiga." He sounded much more stern as he repeated himself. "You do know what that means, don't you?"
"Do you mean the war? Do you really mean he…?"
Professor Booster stepped forward, practically reading Kazuma's mind. "Precisely. We have no choice but to stop him. The guy's totally lost it."
"Stop him? But how? Have you seen what he's capable of?"
"I have an idea. But all this can wait," he finished, turning towards the door. "For now, we must find Sue, and quickly. We'll talk then." As he walked by the soldier, he grabbed him by the collar of his tank-top, pulling him up from the chair. He had a lot of arm strength for such a little guy. "You're coming too. You can walk it off." If Professor Booster was always this bossy and pushy, they were in for a long walk back.