"So we're…weapons?"
"That's right." Sue had nothing to hide from King and Jack; she had successfully talked them into giving her a chance to explain herself before they made any hasty decisions. The three of them were standing atop the central pillar; Sue was standing outside of her cage as she told them what she had learnt. "The Doctor wants to use the red flowers to make you guys attack the humans." She looked tired, as if she had been speaking for some time.
"Why–" Jack sputtered. It was a lot to take in. "Why would he want to do something like that?!" King stood silently, taking in Sue's whole story. A lot of her facts matched what he had seen first-hand. He wanted to disavow her whole tale, but that was just his bias towards outsiders speaking.
Sue hesitated on her answer, trying to drum up the appropriate words. "That man is…" she started, before hesitating again. "Well, he's like a demon. The way he moves and talks – I can't even begin to imagine what he thinks. As far as I know, he's just doing it for the giggles."
"And he's going to use those flowers on Toroko?" Jack pressed.
"As far as I can tell, actually, he's still looking for them. He hasn't found the flowers yet; he just knows what they do. We can only hope that he will never find them."
"If…if he finds those flowers, then Toroko…"
"She'd go wild. She'd become an unstoppable killing machine, with no way to bring her back from her rampage alive. I've seen it happen once already."
"Over my dead body!" King shouted, suddenly indignant. "I'll never allow that to happen!"
"'Over your dead body', huh?" she asked, with no trace of snide or wit. "If the Doctor finds those flowers, he might just hold you to that."
He was the last one through the teleporter at the opposite end of Grasstown. The return trip had taken quite a while longer than the first time: he was injured, Kazuma was famished, and Professor Booster was old. He had begun to feel back in top shape towards the end of the journey, at least. His stomach felt fine, and his leg didn't sting, as if he was never hit.
"Ugh," Professor Booster groaned, arching his back to snap some kinks in his spine back into place.
"Are you okay, Professor?" asked Kazuma a little lethargically, like he knew the answer already and Professor Booster was just fishing for responses.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," he replied, rolling his neck and feeling all its joints snap loudly as well. "I just hadn't gone on such a long walk since we got here. It's been a while, and I've been locked in that lab for so long, and all."
"I'm a little out of shape too," Kazuma said over his shoulder, searching the house for some source of food. A fridge, or maybe just some vegetables lying around, or something. He knew there was a farm in the village somewhere, but if he didn't have to walk that far for food, he'd take the alternative.
The front door to the house flung open, and a small Mimiga was standing there on the other end. She had to stand on her toes to reach the doorknob. "Kazuma?!" she asked, surprised less by the fact that there were people in the house and more by the fact that her brother was among them. She was looking a little perturbed when she entered; her expression quickly lifted when she saw her brother, alive, but looking a little pale. He must not have been joking about the 'cockroaches' thing. "And Professor Booster, too!" She wasn't expecting to see him at all; that was certainly a welcome surprise. Now, if only their mother was there with them.
"Oh!" yipped Professor Booster, jumping in surprise from hearing Sue's voice. "Sue?!" he asked, stepping forward to get a better look at her.
"Sue!" Kazuma yelled excitedly as well, quickly running past the professor and up to his sister, bending down to give her a hug. "I was worried, Sue! When you weren't responding in the chat, and when you didn't show up in Grasstown, I was really worried!"
He got a look at the reunited brother and sister sharing an embrace. Kazuma was a fairly tall human with tan skin – Sue was a smaller-than-average Mimiga with fluffy white fur. How, exactly, did that work?
"You're safe too, then?" Professor Booster asked.
"Well," she began, letting go of Kazuma to look over her shoulder. King was right behind her. "More or less, really." They both showed themselves into the house, King closing the door behind him. He said nothing and made no attempts at making introductions; in fact, he looked a little sour now that he had even more outsiders to fret over.
"Who is that?"
Sue turned to face King, expecting him to introduce himself. He instead turned away, refusing to look anyone in the face. Sue sighed irritably. "That's King," she said flatly. "A, uh…friend of mine, here in the village." There was no other way to describe him, right at that moment – if she told them about he had locked her up and planned to trade her to the Doctor for someone else, they would have reacted badly. "There used to be tons of Mimiga here, but nearly all of them have been kidnapped by the Doctor's goons. Now there's only four or five of them left. King's lost a lot of his buddies, too…" She turned, hoping that would get a reaction out of him. Not so much as a twitch.
She noticed the soldier was still standing in the teleporter, behind Kazuma, who was busy clicking away at the teleporter's monitor once Professor Booster had pushed him aside to speak with Sue directly. He was trying to find some coordinates, much like the ones that connected the teleporter to the Egg Corridor and Grasstown, but to where, he had no clue. "Oh, hey you!" she said casually once she noticed him. "It looks like I owe you another one. Now that we have my computer-genius brother here, we should be able to crack the password to that egg in the Egg Corridor, no sweat." She faced Professor Booster again. "Booster, can we take this little guy with us when we go?" 'Little'? He was twice her size!
Professor Booster remained silent, his face contorting as if he were thinking of an answer. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking behind those glasses of his. "Professor," Kazuma called, to remind him that he had to answer when he stalled for a moment. Sue wasn't expecting such a pause – she couldn't think of a reason why not.
"Sue, my dear," Professor Booster began, choosing his words carefully, "we have to suspend our escape. The Doctor has located the red flowers."
"What?!" Sue asked in shock.
"What?!" King yelled at the same time, suddenly very interested in the conversation.
Professor Booster sighed. "He doesn't have them yet, but now, it's only a matter of time. They're in the Sand Zone somewhere."
"The Sand Zone?" King confirmed. "You mean, that's where we'll find the Doctor?" He knew where he was going next.
"Not likely. You'll probably find his lackeys in his place." He expression hardened, looking quite serious, even with those thick, rose-red glasses. "If we don't destroy those flowers before they can get their hands on them…well, it's not hard to figure out. King, I assume Sue's filled you in?" King nodded, choosing not to speak to another outsider if he didn't have to. "In any case, the Sand Zone is exceedingly dangerous. Even supposing we made the trip, there's no guarantee that we would return alive."
"Then you're giving up?" asked King, blunt as ever.
"Look at me; I'm an old man. I barely managed to walk my way out of Grasstown; do you really think I would stand half a chance in the Sand Zone? I can't make that trip, no way. But," he continued, turning to the soldier, "one of us is equipped for the job. And that'd be you." That came as no surprise to him, honestly.
"Who is this guy, Sue?" Kazuma asked. "He's no Mimiga and he doesn't look particularly human…"
"This," Professor Booster proceeded, "is one of the armed scout robots that were dispatched to this island some-ten years ago."
"A robot?!" Kazuma asked, surprised. He wasn't the only one; Sue was caught off-guard as well, but the one who was totally astonished the most was himself. His identity hadn't been such a high priority for some time, now, and he nearly wound up forgetting about it. A robot? It would explain why he hadn't met anyone to compare himself to yet, and how he managed to recover so quickly from his fight with Balrog. Maybe even his wicked aim with the charcoal could be explained by him having inhuman reflexes.
"My impression was that they had been completely wiped out, but I do not know the particulars. It's been ten years, after all. It's entirely possible that one of them could have…"
Professor Booster stalled again, reconsidering his next sentence. "Professor," Kazuma said, interrupting the silence. "I've managed to find a teleporter in the Sand Zone."
"I see." He faced the soldier again. "You are the most suited to exploring this island. I know you don't owe us any obligation, especially after saving Kazuma from Grasstown, but, do you think you could?"
He was already starting back for the teleporter. His eyes were off into space, though; he was reflecting on his newfound knowledge that he was a robot. His awesome jumping skills, and his ability to see in the cave when he first woke up when there wasn't any light (so far as he saw) could've been explained that way, as well. It meant someone had created him for something. Ten years ago, the Professor said? What had happened on the island ten years ago that he might know about? And for that matter, how is this place an island? He's been in one cave after another ever since he woke up.
He wordlessly stepped into the teleporter without pinpointing his location on the control panel on the outside first. Kazuma had punched the numbers in for him; with a flash from all the teleporter's lights and a steady purr from the machine as it came to life, he was gone. "What a selfless guy," he remarked. "Now then, what is there to eat around here?"
The Sand Zone was aptly named, so far. There was no solid ground underneath his feet as he stepped off the teleporter – just soft sand that shifted under his weight with every step. The familiar, unprocessed stone walls had taken on a slight dark-green tinge to them, quite unlike Grasstown's sea-blue.
The teleporter was placed in a dark corner, away from the supposed dangers of the area. Still, it was an odd spot to place the machine: no houses or anything for anyone to live in to maintain the machine. No landmarks, no obvious signs of life anywhere nearby, aside from the teleporter itself, of course. Well, in any case, it was time to–
Off in the distance, just a few yards ahead, was a person. He couldn't make out any particular feature in this light and in this distance, but judging from the long, wavy blonde hair the person sported, it was likely female. She wore a pink tank-top and thick burgundy pants – hey, wait, he was wearing a tank-top and thick pants. When she heard footsteps from behind her, she turned to see who it was. He still couldn't make out any specific features, but he could tell that her skin was a stark white – just like his! She even had those receptor-things on her ears! Was she another robot, like him? Did they know each other? Did she remember anything about their past? He had to speak with her!
She, on the other hand, looked rather apathetic at seeing a fellow robot. Without making so much as a sound, she simply turned around, and ran out the only exit to the dead-end cave that housed the teleporter. Maybe she didn't see him? Or maybe he was seeing things? He had to make sure!
Breaking into a fevered sprint, he ran out of the small cave, and found himself in a much larger one immediately. Very tall, like the roof of the cave in Grasstown, although with considerably less buildings. Just the one, off in the corner, that had an odd, red neon sign above its door, taking the shape of a wine glass. At first he thought it might have been someone's house at one point, but, maybe it was some rest area for workers? Like, a bar, or something? Whatever, that wasn't important at the moment: he spied her walking through the door to the building and disappeared inside. He wasted no time in following.
The inside of the building had sand for a floor, still. The girl was in plain sight, speaking to four small, young-looking Mimiga, each wearing the same lime-green dress, very softly, as if she was warning them of something. When he came into the house uninvited, they all turned to stare at him at once; the girl followed their eyes and into his. She had a very…enrapturing bright-blue set, and the string of a necklace was clearly visible around her neck. "Oh!" she said, loud and drawn out, like she was trying to surprise him. "We have a visitor." She said that last word with some vitriol…was he unwelcome here? He just needed to ask a few questions, and he'd be on his way. "I know what it is you're looking for," she began, her volume rising, confusing him further, "but wake up! Mimiga aren't your enemies!" What? Enemies? How did this happen? What's going on? Where did Kazuma teleport him to? "Mimiga are harmless!"
He opened his mouth to speak, to stand up for himself, but she quickly cut him off. "Too bad for you, but," she said, reaching into her belt with her left hand, and drawing a large, red automatic rifle. It was quite a bit larger than his Polar Star – how did he miss that?! "But I'm on their side! You're going down!"
Clearly, diplomacy was not her strong suit. Without being given the opportunity to explain himself, she began to open fire, shooting more rounds than he could count in just a few seconds. Lucky for him, however, her aim was terrible, firing off to his side and spraying the bullets towards him, giving him a huge opportunity to dodge to the side and draw his own weapon. Just as he did, however, all four of the young Mimiga pounced him at once, attempting to pin him down to make an easier target for their adoptive 'mother'. He couldn't fire on the children, obviously, but he couldn't just let them hold him still while she filled him with ammunition. He instead shook his arms and kicked his legs violently, shaking the kids off him.
With one of them still clinging tightly to his neck, and ducked and ran to the left, away from the oncoming spray of…hold on, that thing wasn't firing bullets. The sound the weapon made as each shot left the barrel was similar to the 'fweet' noise his Polar Star made whenever he pulled the trigger. Could his weapon and her weapon be related somehow? Were they both made by the same gunsmith?
Nonetheless, he took aim and opened fire. His aim was considerably better, each of his shots landing direct hits on very parts of her body. She flinched and recoiled with each hit, but wasn't about to go down so easily: she took aim again, and opened fire with another spray, hoping to at least get in a few hits. Again, no such luck – in fact, if she was any less careful, she could have gotten one of the children in her fire.
He had managed to shake off the kid still stuck to his neck, keeping up his barrage on the girl. He wanted to end this fight quickly; if he wanted to ask her any questions, he'd need her alive, after all. Raising his weapon to his eyes, he took careful aim at her wrists, and managed to land a perfect shot on her left hand, which was supporting the weight of the weapon. She withdrew her hand in pain and alarm, releasing the weapon – and was promptly tackled to the ground.
He sat on top of her, legs on either side of her waist, his Polar Star pointed threateningly between her eyes. She looked afraid for a moment when she came back to her senses, but quickly resigned. "You win," she said sadly. "Are you going to kill the Mimiga, just like all the other robots?"
That's what they were on the island for? To kill the Mimiga? He's been spending all his time helping them out, instead. They seemed so harmless, too – why would anyone see them as such a huge threat that they needed an army to deal with?
He answered his question by widening his eyes, shaking his head vehemently, holstering his Polar Star, and getting off her. He extended his hand to help her stand, as well. She looked very surprised, and then quickly embarrassed: this whole thing was just a brash misunderstanding on her part. Now that she thought about it, she was the first to fire, and he hadn't so much as said a word. "You were never here to hurt them?" she asked, just to be sure. He put on a smile and shook his head, his hand still outstretched. She finally accepted it, and was pulled to her feet.
"That's right," she said confidently. "There's nothing bad about them!" She let go of his hand, smiling back at him. "My name is Curly. Curly Brace. What's yours?" Oh…that's a good one. He couldn't remember his name when he woke up, and nobody had ever really asked him for one. He was suddenly put on the spot to come up with a name. "What, you don't have one?" she asked sarcastically. He looked back at her apologetically. "Whoa, seriously? You don't have a name?" He shook his head sheepishly. "Well, that's no good. I can't just go around calling you 'hey you' or 'that guy', can I?" She placed a hand to her chin, thinking for a moment. "Well, if you don't have a name, I'll just think of one for you. How about Quote? You look like a 'Quote' to me. How does that sound?" He opened his mouth to respond, and, just like last time, she cut him off again. "Great! Quote it is!"
The four young Mimiga were still on alert, but they trusted their 'mother', and if she was acting friendly towards this stranger, then there was no need to pick any more fights. They had all gathered around the two – two of them taking to poking around Quote, pulling at his pants and shirt. One of them nearly managed to sneak his Polar Star out of his belt while the other was fiddling with the buttons on his missile launcher, before Curly scolded them about it. The other two stood just behind Curly, seemingly hiding from him.
"Sorry," she said courteously, "they can be easily excitable. When I woke up, I was with them, and I…I dunno, I guess I sorta adopted them. I don't have any memories before that, though…amnesia, you might say. Are you the same way?" Quote nodded, looking disappointed – he knew what he was, and now he had a name, so he'd been making a great deal of headway, personally. But his best lead for finding out about his past was dashed when she mentioned amnesia. He could only imagine that she was having the same troubles, as well. "I was…" she stopped, closing her eyes sadly as she gathered her thoughts. "I was probably a Mimiga-butcher, just like the other robots. It's not something I like to think about."
She opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the Polar Star resting on his side. "You handled that Polar Star awesomely," she lightened, changing the topic immediately, shaking the hand he managed to shoot. "I haven't really gone too far from the house ever since I woke up, so I haven't really had that much practice with my machine gun, here…" She patted the red rifle on her side. "You could probably really tell, huh? Good thing, maybe. I might have torn you up if I was any better." She laughed light-heartedly at the idea; he was a little less than enthusiastic about it. "What do you think about trading, huh?" she asked, catching him off guard. "My machine gun for your Polar Star, what do you say? I could use the experience, starting with something a little more my level."
He withdrew his weapon, taking a look at it. It was certainly faithful, but…imagine how easily things could go for him if he had that machine gun! They seem to use the same 'ammunition', as far as he could tell. A pistol for a machine gun, no questions asked. What a deal! But then he thought of the poor, old man back when he first woke up. He had, by all rights, stolen the gun from him in his sleep, and he had hoped that maybe he could return it to him some day. But…he had fallen from the sky, and into Mimiga village. He didn't know how he was going to ever get back up there.
Ultimately, he turned the Polar Star around, offering Curly the grip of the weapon. "Hey, good choice!" she said, accepting the weapon and offering the butt of her own machine gun to him. It had a small mount to be placed on the left shoulder near its barrel, and a hook closer to the trigger to hook onto his belt, so that he didn't have to carry it around in his hands all the time. He'd probably have some trouble breaking out of the habit of reaching for the pistol at his waist, but that aside…he couldn't wait until he met Balrog again.
"And hey, as for that missile launcher," she said, pointing to it once she had placed the Polar Star in her own belt. "It's looking a little low on the missiles, there. When I woke up, I was lying right next to a cache of them in the room just to the side, there." She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb, towards a door Quote hadn't noticed before. "I don't know what I was doing with them, especially since I didn't have anything to use them with. And I don't think I want to know, either. You can take them, if you like."
He accepted her invitation, entering the room. It was a small bedroom, containing a bed with thin wool sheets and some empty shelves in the corner. A small white dog was sleeping on the bed, lying on his back, his legs kicking and twitching occasionally. At the foot of the bed was a small cache of missiles, just as Curly said, and they appeared to be the same type and make that his launcher had used. At first he thought it was a pretty incredible coincidence, but, if what Professor Booster had said was true, about him and Curly being on the island for at least ten years, then chances were he was just using hand-me-downs from the past. That would make them antiques: he was surprised the things still exploded.
He reloaded the launcher with only two missiles left over. It felt nearly natural to him, opening the launcher's many chambers and loading the warheads securely into its mechanisms, despite this being the first time he did it, as far as he could remember. Muscle memory, perhaps. He slung the huge weapon over his right shoulder – the sudden weight of the weapon caused him to lose balance, tripping and falling over himself and into the wall of the room. The metal linings of the room appeared to be bolted securely into place, though, so he didn't really make too much of an effort to steady himself.
With a deep, soft thud, he hit the wall to the side, which caused the sheeting to give way underneath the sudden impact. It collapsed backwards, bringing him down with it, revealing to him a small hidden room, the size of a closet. In fact, that was exactly what it was, just a closet, and he had accidentally knocked over its door.
He pulled himself up from the floor after recovering from the surprise, and dusted off his pants. He looked in the closet, not really looking to find anything. The space wasn't nearly as dusty or had nearly as many cobwebs as he had expected; had Curly known about this little room?
In the far end of the closet was a small drawer, holding a pair of compartments, one on top of the other. It didn't reach up to his waist, and was only just wide enough for the closet. What could a person hide in such a small box? And why try to hide it in a room like this?
The allure of what could be in the drawer gnawed on his mind suddenly. He always felt awful, poking into other people's belongings and then taking what wasn't his…but both times, he had uncovered something that had managed to save his life in a close call. Why not give it a look? He might be surprised by what he found.
He pulled open the shelf to the bottom drawer first. It was empty, peculiarly. Closing it, he opened the top drawer, finding some clothes that had been recently washed and pressed, and folded neatly in place. A pink tank top, some thick, burgundy pants, some white socks, and…underwear. A pair of yellow-green panties with a charming insignia on the front. He was certainly surprised by the find, that's for sure. He folded them back up as neatly as he found them, then gently replaced them in the drawer, before closing it. As he left the closet, he pulled the thin sheet of metal back up, closing the wall as securely as he could, doing his best to make it look undisturbed.
Just as he felt satisfied with his cover up, he turned back to the door, seeing that the dog had awoken from his sleep, and was eyeing him playfully, its tail wagging a mile a minute. It probably saw the whole thing. Quote looked at the dog, bringing his right index finger to his mouth, making a quiet shushing noise with his lips. It'd be their little secret.
Back into the main room of the building, the children Mimiga had taken to sitting in the far corner, playing some game involving marbles. Curly looked at him and smiled, apparently not hearing the commotion in the back room. "So, stranger, what brings you to my edge of the cave?" She asked. "There isn't a whole lot to find in the Sand Zone. There's sand, and a whole of exotic animals and creatures I guarantee you won't find anywhere else, and the sand, but I somehow doubt you're here to sightsee. Other than all that, there's pretty much nothing here…there's the old witch Jenka and some big warehouse she guards. Oh, and I don't mean that negatively: she actually refers to herself as a witch. She won't tell anyone what's in it, though."
He looked at her inquisitively, wondering what could be in that warehouse. If the red flowers were really as dangerous as Professor Booster had made them out to be, then keeping them under lock and key indefinitely would be a good idea – next to incinerating them, he guessed. This Jenka woman might be able to help him out, then.
"Ah, I know that look," Curly giggled. "If you want to talk to Jenka, just head down the sand strip straight ahead from the door. The cave will twist you around to her place eventually; just keep following the sand. I'd take you there myself, but somebody needs to look after the kids. The Sand Zone isn't the safest place ever, you know. Don't be afraid to get some work in with that machine gun."
Quote smiled at her, nodding and waving as he walked back towards the door. How tough could it be?
Curly was right about a lot of things. Jenka's house was right in the path: he couldn't have missed it if he wanted to. There was even a sign on its front lawn that said, simply, 'Jenka's House'. Just off in the distance from Jenka's was a larger building with no windows – probably the warehouse that Curly had mentioned, with the red flowers inside.
Curly, and Professor Booster, were also correct about Sand Zone being a dangerous place. Many of the animals in the area were extremely predatory, and seemingly just fought each other all the time. Not necessarily over food, either: they just seemed to fight. There were a lot of odd-looking creatures everywhere: from deep-green hummingbirds that were nearly twice his size; to some kind of reptilian species that looked as though they were strictly skin-and-bones; to another reptilian species strongly resembling crocodiles that dwelled only within the sand, looking much meatier than the others; to some kind of grotesquely large stag beetle species that roamed the surfaces freely.
How they all managed to co-exist as they had in the Sand Zone was beyond him. He had to fight off several of each of the beasts, some of them thinking that maybe he'd make a decent dinner, while the others might have been territorial, with still others might have just been looking for a fight. He was getting tired from having to dodge jaws and wings so often. The machine gun had certainly been getting a decent work out already. His trigger finger with the Polar Star might not have kept up with so many onslaughts.
Dirty, cold, and tired, he placed the machine gun back across his left shoulder before dusting himself off and knocking on the door. Curly said that Jenka fashioned herself a witch, right? So, then, he wasn't totally clear on what he should expect. Would she be green-skinned with a huge, hooked nose and warts all over? Would there be a cauldron in her room, boiling up some kind of stew filled with unimaginable ingredients? Would she have a thing for cats? "The door's open," an elderly woman yelled, not-unkindly inviting him in. He turned the knob on the door and allowed himself into the building.
The house seemed extremely simple: two floors, but only a handful of rooms, each sparsely furnished. She had a rocking chair, a bed, and a fireplace, and…not much else. A few windows, but they didn't have curtains. An iron stove, as well, for cooking and boiling. It was all very normal. Jenka herself was sitting in her rocking chair, gently rocking it back and forth. Her skin was a very deep tan, and she wore a green overcoat on top of a black knit sweater, and a long, darker-green dress. Her white hair was held in a top-knot, and she wore thick glasses that could put Jack's to shame. Other than that…she was just an elderly woman. Hardly what he expected a witch to look like. Maybe Curly was exaggerating? Or maybe Jenka was nuts?
She was smiling at him when he first walked in, pleased to finally have visitors after so long, but once she got a look at him, she quickly turned that smile into a scowl. "You're from the surface," she said bitterly, her eyes behind her wide glasses digging into his soul. "From that war ten years ago. I know what you're after, and you're not going to get it." She reached for her cane with her right hand, and pulled herself up from her chair. She was hunched, and she walked slowly, but her body language and her tone of voice said that she was confident, and angry.
"I don't think you quite grasp what those flowers do to a Mimiga," she said, waving her left index finger at him. But he did – he had seen it himself in the Egg Corridor. He nearly managed to get a word in, when she cut him off, seemingly reading his mind. "I don't care what your story is. Maybe you've forgotten, but I certainly haven't: it was ten years ago that hundreds of robots like you came to this island. Countless Mimiga had died back then, as did the humans that tried to protect them, when you and your soldiers shot them all down. And when the Mimiga were cornered, they ate the forbidden red flowers, and in their murderous rage, they struck back. Seeing as you're still here, I imagine you weren't a part of that particular battle.
"Had the red flowers not existed, the entire Mimiga population would have been wiped out. The cornered Mimiga had hoped that the red flowers would grant them strength. They ate them, and then they fought the robots…but, can you imagine what happened to them afterwards? The enraged Mimiga, unable to control their own actions, disappeared without a trace. If the rumours are to be trusted, they descended to the surface – they just jumped down – towards the humans. An army of ferocious Mimiga loosed upon the Earth…"
Quote understood why she was keeping the flowers locked up. He had enough trouble from that one berserk Mimiga in the Egg Corridor. He couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to fend off an entire army of them. She was keeping them locked up, to prevent the same disaster from happening again. But, on the other hand, that's exactly why he needed to get to them: the Doctor wants the flowers to unleash the exact same thing again, and he needed to get into that warehouse to destroy them all.
"I can't give you the storehouse key," she breathed, calmed slightly now that she had vented her frustrations at him a bit. He kept giving her this innocent face, that said to her 'I don't want that to happen either, but I need to get those flowers anyway'. "I don't care who you are, but you're not getting it. If you, or anyone, opens the storehouse again, then the same tragedy would just play over again. Not you, or Misery, or–"
"Huzzah!"
With a huge crash, Balrog came straight through the ceiling of the building, hitting the floor hard among all the shattered wood and stone and debris that came with him. Quote immediately drew his machine gun, aiming straight down the sight at Balrog, ready to fire the moment the briefcase made so much as a twitch.
"You always do such nice patch-jobs on your house, Jenka," he laughed. "It's always so satisfying to bust through." Balrog hadn't missed Quote, standing there with the red machine gun pointed right between his eyes. He was going to make a witty remark about the weapon, but decided against it – Misery and the Doctor had patched him up after that beating in Grasstown, but now his gun was quite a bit bigger than last time, and, well, maybe picking a fight wouldn't be such a good idea at the moment. "So," he said, back to Jenka. "How are things?"
"Ah, Balrog," Jenka replied casually, not the least bit mad, or even surprised, about her new skylight. "I see you're doing well."
"No thanks to Mighty Man with the big gun, here. He's a pretty vicious fighter; I couldn't come close to beating him, even with Misery's help."
"Speaking of Misery, how is my half-wit of a daughter doing?" Jeez, between Jenka and Balrog's witty mouth in Grasstown, Misery didn't seem to be especially popular. Also…if Misery can turn Balrog into that hideous, giant frog in Grasstown with hardly a thought, just what exactly could Jenka do?
Balrog giggled girlishly when he heard Misery's own mother put her down like that, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Oh, she's fine. Just fine! I'm sure her teeth are growing back nicely after that beating the Doctor had given her earlier." He was exaggerating over how badly she was hurt, but he enjoyed his own make-believe scenarios, and he knew Jenka didn't really care anyway.
"Doctor?" Jenka asked curiously. Had they finally gotten themselves a new master?
"Oh yeah, pardon me. We got a new master recently. Calls himself the Doctor, but I dunno his real name. This time, we're gonna take over the world, just you see!"
Jenka hummed at the grand image Balrog was putting up for her. "Same old story, then, huh?"
"Yeah, pretty much." His expression turned a bit more serious, keeping an eye on Quote, who hadn't made a move since he appeared and kept his weapon trained right on Balrog's face. "But we actually have a shot at it this time. And that brings me to why I'm here, Jenka. I'm not here to give you any trouble, okay? I'm just here for the key to the storehouse. The one where the flower seeds are kept."
Jenka wasn't afraid of Balrog or of Quote, but she couldn't give up the key to either. She knew Balrog wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the box, either, so maybe playing dumb would buy her more time than flat out refusing. "What on Earth are you talking about, Balrog? You're making less sense than usual."
Balrog laughed brazenly, his mouth stretching into that wide grin of his that nearly took his whole face. "Playing the fool, are you? I wrote the book on that one; you can't fool me!" Jenka did not change her expression, and merely shrugged her shoulders when Balrog expected her compliance. "Oh, I see how it is," he said coldly, his expression turning dire serious. "So, you've chosen to betray us, then." He paused dramatically, blinking once. "You'll regret it." And with another leap, he was gone through the hole in the ceiling.
Jenka turned back towards her rocking chair. "A new master, he says…" she mumbled to herself. Quote replaced the machine gun to his left shoulder when he realized Balrog wasn't coming back. "That good-for-nothing." She sat back down on her chair, all her joints popping and cracking loudly as she did, with her wincing at every one. "Listen, soldier. Ten years was a long time ago, by anyone else's standards, and you don't look like the particularly violent type, even if what Balrog said about you is true. I'm not giving you the key, but…could you do this old woman a favour anyway?" He reasoned that he may as well listen to what she had to say – maybe, just maybe, she'd change her mind if he did what she asked. "I own a puppy here in the Sand Zone. I usually let him run wherever he wants all over the place, and he usually has the sense to come back, but…he hasn't for days now. I'm worried about him. Do you think you could find him and bring him back for me? Before any of those creatures out in the Zone get to him first."
Quote knew just where to look. He turned to leave, looking at the huge hole in the ceiling that Balrog had left behind. "Don't worry about it," she said to him, as if she was reading his mind again. "Balrog does that all the time when he visits. I don't really blame him; he can't exactly fit through the door. It'll be fixed by the time you come back. Just find my puppy." Well, if she said not to worry about it, then there wasn't much purpose to dwelling on it, then. He left Jenka's house, setting on his way back to Curly's.
Just as he got fifty yards from the house, he looked back, noticing the large hole on the building from the outside. Just as he was about to turn back around, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. The hole was illuminated by an eerie blue glow, and quickly, it was patched from the inside-out: the metal covering the roof was mended first and placed on the outside, followed by all the wood chips and stone on the inside, repairing the hole perfectly, as if it had never been damaged. That was certainly one way to use her magic.
The walk back to Curly's was just as eventful as the walk away from it. By the time he managed to pull himself back to the door, his muscles ached and his clothes were saturated with sand and grit from running and tumbling all through the sand as he avoided the extremely hostile wildlife. From gators snapping at his ankles to giant birds diving at his skull, he was running and jumping and diving away from them all, returning fire when he had the chance to spook them off.
Barely steady when he finally managed to get the door open, he picked a spot on the floor in the corner and wordlessly fell flat onto it, taking a quick breather from all that. Once he had that puppy, he'd have to protect himself and the dog from all those creatures out there as well, and he wasn't looking forward to that at all.
"Jeez, are you okay?" asked Curly once she noticed how tired and dirty he looked. He lifted his hand to give a thumbs up, keeping his head down and his eyes closed. "I told you that the Sand Zone was a heck of a place, didn't I? It makes me wonder how Jenka managed to build her house out there when she did." Three of the four Mimiga children had gathered around Quote, poking at him with their fingers, asking if he was dead or just asleep. "Hey, knock it off," Curly said softly, pulling them away. "The guy's had a rough day, let him sleep."
He never did manage to actually fall asleep, but from just a half-hours worth of rest, he was feeling top-of-the-world again. He was already up and giving a big stretch to his bunched-up back. "Do you think you should be up and moving so soon?" asked Curly, concerned. He flashed her a confident smile and gave a quick nod. "Well, if you say so, then. What brings you back here? Does Jenka not like visitors?"
He approached the door to the side room, knowing exactly where he was going. Inside, the puppy from before was awake and energetic, though also obviously bored and pent-up. It started wagging its tail once it saw Quote. He patted his knees and gave a whistle, and the dog came bounding up to him happily. "Oh, she wants her dog back?" Curly said, following close behind him. He noted the tag on its collar: a cute bone-shape made out of a simple brown metal, with the name 'Hajime' etched into one side. "I knew Hajime belonged to her, but I've never had the chance to bring him back, being so protective of the kids, and all. I guess now would be an okay time to do that." She walked forward, placing a loving hand on the dogs head and petting him enthusiastically. "Hey, boy, want to go back home to Jenka? Quote will take you home. It's time to go!"
Hajime gave a charming 'arf' and immediately jumped onto Quote's shoulders while he was kneeling. He was pretty surprised at first, and tried shaking the dog off, but Hajime wasn't budging, surprisingly. He stood up straight – the weight of the dog not really making much of a difference between the missile launcher and the machine gun – and shrugged his shoulders a few times. Hajime held fast, and was securely fastened to his shoulders. "Well," Curly laughed, "at least you won't have to worry about losing him. Or your hat, for that matter."
He smiled back at her – they'll see how long Hajime stayed on his shoulders out there in the Sand Zone.
Jenka's house was in plain sight, only a minute away at his walking pace. The trip back was just as perilous as all the others: him dodging tooth and claw, bobbing and weaving between all the creatures that hunted him in the sand, shooting a few of them if they ever got too close. Between all his dives and rolls and leaps, Hajime stuck like glue to his shoulders, either too afraid to move, or simply too comfortable. He was pretty shocked when Hajime didn't even falter his grip jumping over his first dune crest, and the novelty held with him with each exaggerated swing and evasion.
The sunlight in Jenka's house was back, though, which quickly alarmed him. Balrog must have come back when he was out getting Hajime – knowing how strong Jenka's magic supposedly was, she was probably okay, but all the same, he broke out into a sprint when he saw the damage done to the house again. Hajime finally leapt off his shoulders and began running towards the house himself as well.
Inside, the place was a mess, aside from the trash and debris from the hole in the ceiling. The rocking chair was on its side, and the curtains on the windows were torn from their clips. Jenka was there, on her hands and knees, in the centre of the room, moaning weekly and shaking as if she were in pain.
Quote immediately ran to her left side, kneeling down and reaching out to gently help her back to her feet. She seemed physically okay: there was no blood, and nothing seemed broken on her. Hajime was quickly on her other side, whimpering and nuzzling his master, giving licks all in between. She groaned weakly, turning her head towards Quote, seeing who it was that was trying to help her stand. "You?" she coughed. "Hajime…" she moaned turning to her right, seeing her puppy again for the first time in days. "I didn't think you'd actually bring him back, soldier. And so soon…" She looked around and spotted her cane just out of arm's reach in front of her; she extended her hand, palm forward, and the cane suddenly began to shake and vibrate as it rolled across the floor. Grabbing it, she finally managed to pull herself to her feet.
"Thank you for finding my Hajime, soldier." She reached forward with her free hand towards her chair, and, like the cane, it began to shake and vibrate. It was lifted completely into the air, hovering over nothing for a moment as it rotated back right-side-up before being placed back down on its legs. "They," she began, hobbling her way back towards her chair, her pace much less stable than when he first visited. "They took the key, to the storehouse. I…I expected Balrog to, to come back and try to take…it, but Mis–Misery was with him…if I were a few hundreds years younger, I…" She managed to get herself back into her chair. "I would have…had an easy time with them. But I'm old; it's less my magic's fault and more my inability to react to them.
"Listen, soldier," she scowled, regaining her stamina quickly once she had something to sit on. "You have to stop them. They're about to make a huge mistake. Run to the storehouse, and do whatever you soldier-types do to chase them out and get that key back. If they get those seeds, they'll use them to enrage the Mimiga and unleash them all on the surface."
He nodded and was about to dash out of the house, when she stopped him. "This," she said, waving her hand towards a hidden cupboard in the corner. It swung open easily, and from it, a small jar the size of his fist containing a red jelly came floating down, and directly into Quote's hands. "Is a gift, for finding my Hajime. It's a medicine, made from the most powerful mushrooms, herbs and mosses I had centuries ago, and its age has strengthened its potency. It'll taste awful, but I guarantee, it will bring anyone – human, robot, or Mimiga – back from any injury or sickness, no matter how severe. But keep in mind, this thing took me centuries to make: I don't have any more lying around."
Taking in every ounce of information she gave him, he pocketed the jar, and ran out of the house, straight for the storehouse in plain sight in front of him.
"My lord," Misery said dutifully. "I have brought all the seeds, as you requested."
"Well done," he replied, grinning victoriously, his glasses gleaming as he looked down at Misery. He was extremely tall, taller than Kazuma, and half as wide as Balrog. He constantly hunched, forming an unsightly hump on his upper spine, covered by his stark-white coat. He wore a tie and black shirt underneath his thin, white coat, but his most peculiar feature was the mighty crown on his head. It was adorned with one ruby at its peak, but was otherwise clearly not a crown of royalty: it was an aqua-blue helmet that extended straight up for nearly a foot and framed each side of his face, and had grey grooves all along its exterior. It was horribly unsightly, all in all, but the man wearing it was only a man without it.
"By the by," he started. His voice was moderately deep, and sounded very educated and experienced, although each word carried a cold undertone that would put off anyone that he spoke to. "The flowers that bloom there." He made no absolutely no motion, other than dragging his eyes from Misery's and onto a small patch of blood-red flowers that were growing behind her. She followed his stare to the flowers that he was referencing. "Are those the demon flowers?"
Misery paused before answering, making sure she was not incorrect. "Indeed."
He chuckled under his breath, his grin remaining frozen on his face. "My, my…they're more uncanny than even I imagined. Their petals are a lustrous red, their stems a vibrant, healthy green, and I can smell their delightful pollen from here…such a charm they posses, don't you agree?"
She was surprised by his attention to the flowers – she did not fancy him a botanist, or even a hobbyist, as either would imply that he was a human with morals. "My lord," she said flatly, ignoring his fawning over the flowers. "Shall I consume one as a test?"
His eyes slowly travelled from the patch of flowers back to Misery's. His perpetual toothy grin had not ebbed in the very slightest. "Let's not," he replied. "There are no reports on what would happen if a witch like you were to eat one, and I'd rather not risk any surprises. But maybe that Mimiga you had brought back from the village can serve a purpose after all."
She immediately understood his meaning, and broke into her own wide, open-mouthed smirk as well. "Yes, my lord," she said enthusiastically: finally, something she could really enjoy.
She raised her wooden staff and closed her eyes in concentration. Only a moment later, Toroko appeared several metres in the air, plopping harshly onto the ground just before them both. The wind was knocked out of her with an 'oomph'. Pulling herself to her feet, she took a quick glance around the room – she wasn't in the Plantation anymore, but she definitely wasn't in the village. "Where am–"
"That's the least of your concerns," Misery interrupted. Toroko leaped in surprise, quickly spinning around to see who was behind her. It was that witch woman that had kidnapped her from the village about a day ago, and behind her was…!
On the other side of the building was an open door. If she ran quickly enough for it, she might just be able to get away from these horrible people. Her eyes closed, she ran fiercely for the exit, paying no attention to what she was running over, or into, as she collided head on with Balrog.
"Uh-oh!" Balrog laughed, smiling delightedly at the ticklish bump Toroko had given him. "Where do you think you're going, darling?"
Misery didn't waste any time – she wanted to see this, as badly as the man behind her did. "Balrog. Feed this one a flower." Her expectant smile only widened when she gave the command.
"You got it," he replied, all too happy to scoop up the stub-full of flowers as he marched towards the fallen Toroko. His massive size didn't give her any opportunity to run around, and she couldn't run back, either.
"Stop it!" she cried, kicking and flailing with her arms. She had only heard the stories about what 'red flowers' would do to Mimiga if they ate them, but the rumours were enough to fight for her very life. She was thrashing about as ferociously as she could, with no direction to any swing or kick.
Balrog slapped her hard across the face with his open stub, causing her to reel in shock. He immediately took the opportunity to shove his other stub down her throat, along with the flower it was carrying. "Eat it!" he yelled, all sense of humour gone from his face and his voice. He twisted the stub in his mouth, making sure every last petal had slid in cleanly. "Eat it!" he yelled again, ignoring the tears streaming down her face, matting her fur against her skin, and every pathetic kick and scratch she tried to get him to stop.
Balrog was too busy stuffing the red flower down Toroko's throat to hear footsteps approach rapidly from behind him, and before he could realize someone was even there, he felt a sharp, puncturing pain in his flat back. He immediately turned around, he arms extended offensively to beat at whatever it was that was stabbing him. Just behind him was another Mimiga, with light-red eyes and slits for pupils, like a snake. It wore a long, tattered, purple robe, and it had a huge scar across its flattened snout. Its right eye looked as though it was bruised a short while ago, although it was healing nicely.
The Mimiga ducked underneath Balrog's excited swing, and countered with another thrust with its long, silver sword, this one puncturing his face just above his mouth. Neither of the wounds were lethal by themselves or together, but Balrog wasn't about to stay and fight this clearly capable Mimiga after those two devastating hits: after it withdrew its sword from his face, he took a quick leap backwards, and then a giant one straight up, causing another hole in a different ceiling.
"Toroko!" King yelled, dropping his sword once Balrog shamelessly ran. He fell to his knees, quickly cradling Toroko's head in his caring hands, looking her over in a panic. Red petals were lining her lips. "Are you okay?! Speak to me, Toroko!" He knew what he saw, and he knew what it meant, but he refused to believe it; he desperately prayed that there was some miracle way to reverse what had been done, and that Toroko won't turn into some crazy killing machine, and that he won't have to–
"K…" Toroko stuttered. Her fur was all a mess, and she looked like she was about to be violently sick. Her eyes, however, had turned a frightening dark red, her black pupils blending into them almost perfectly. "King…?" she asked weakly. Her voice was lower than normal, and was scratchy from all the abuse it had taken from Balrog. "My…my head…" Her eyes closed as she lifted her hands – her huge, deformed hands – to her face, trying to sooth her aching skull with a light massage.
Quote appeared in the doorway to the storehouse just then. He had seen Balrog fly off after bursting through the ceiling once again. He had fired a few shots, but Balrog was already well out of the machine gun's range, and soon, he was out of sight. Balrog moved as though he was in a lot of pain, and his leaps seemed very lopsided and limp. Quote could only hope that his injuries were from Misery, and not from some crazy Mimiga that was loose in there.
In front of him was King, holding an odd-looking Mimiga in his hands as if it were his child. And off in the other end of the storehouse was Misery, and just behind her was a man that he did not immediately recognize. But more importantly, between the two pairs was a patch of blood-red flowers, and there were a few red petals surrounding King…
"You!" King shouted angrily, staring in the man's direction. His lips were curled into a terrifying snarl, showing all his sharp, clenched teeth, and his ears were folded back. His eyes shot daggers into the man as he reached for the silver sword he had dropped – not that the man felt threatened. That grin had not waned in the very slightest from the whole show. "You're that Doctor! You keep kidnapping Mimiga!"
The Doctor's grin remained, unflinching. His eyes told nothing, hidden behind the glint in his glasses. "Why," he began, pausing dramatically. "Yes. I am the Doctor, but from here on out you can call me 'Master'. Pleased to make your acquaintance – and I'm afraid I don't do house-calls."
"Don't get funny with me, you jackal!" King yelled, swinging his sword at nothing. "Fix what you've done to Toroko, or I'll–"
"You'll what?" laughed the Doctor. "You'll throw your sword at me? Hey, it's worth a shot – it always works in the movies."
He laid down Toroko's head as gently as his extremely enraged self could, before giving a ferocious yell as he charged towards them both, sword gripped tightly in both hands just to his side as he ran. Misery allowed him to get close: just before King could make a swing, she raised her staff towards him, and with the force of a thousand unseen fists, King was flung harmlessly to the other end of the building. Quote, fortunately, broke his fall.
"My, are they really so fragile before the rage takes them?" asked the Doctor to Misery. He seemed amused by King's mad attempted – although it was hard to tell, with that unchanging smile. King quickly pulled himself to his feet, with Quote following suit. He immediately drew his machine gun, and pointed it at the Doctor, knowing full well that the machine gun couldn't reach him. "Oho!" the Doctor laughed jovially. "You're the soldier from the surface that Misery and Balrog have been talking about! It's great to finally meet you!" Quote chose not to entertain him, keeping the weapon trained on the human.
The Doctor began to levitate under his own power, with Misery following him closely. "You've come at a splendid time," he chortled. "I'm sure you know the story by now. We really must be going – this area's about to become far too…alive, let's say, for us. Enjoy the show!" And, just as Misery liked to do, he simply faded away from existence. Misery smiled and winked at them both, and followed her master away from the danger.
King's sword still clutched firmly in his hands, he was about to run to the position the Doctor was just at, when Toroko began to thrash spastically on the ground, still laying on her back. He was fuelled with so much anger towards the Doctor that he had briefly forgotten about her condition. He stopped dead in his tracks, about to drop the sword again and run to her aide, when her muscles began to build upon themselves and her fur became thicker with each passing second. Her normally meek claws on her hands and feet extended and sharpened, her legs and arms gaining mass with each of her adrenaline-hyped heartbeats.
Her eyes narrowed and turned completely red, drowning out her irises and pupils as the rest of her body began to expand. Her simple green dress ripped at each of its seams, until the simple cloth could not contain her gargantuan body and burst open with a frightening rip. Her muzzle lengthened and flattened, and each of her normally modest teeth extended and sharpened in her jaw, ripping open her gums. She let out a bellowing feral roar, the blood from her teeth spewing straight up before coming down and dotting her snow-white fur across her chest and stomach. Her torso had grown in proportion to the rest of her body, each muscle building open itself to form a thick, meaty shield around her vitals.
Quote had his machine gun aimed at Toroko the whole time, but he didn't dare pull the trigger. He was constantly glancing nervously towards King, waiting for him to give him an order, or to make a move, or something, anything, to tell him what he should do. King himself looked totally shocked at the transformation happening right in front of him: the young, delicate Toroko was now more than three times his own size, and was still growing and looking more and more vicious with each passing moment. His grip on his sword did not falter, and his panicked face and darting eyes told Quote that he knew he had to do something, but he just couldn't bring himself to kill Toroko, even when it would have been the best decision if they had.
Toroko's mad eyes scanned the room, searching every visible nook and cranny for something, before falling to rest on King and Quote just to her right. She twisted around, onto her hands and knees, those blood-red eyes locked onto theirs. Her mouth was curled into a twisted gnarl, her teeth each still bleeding rivulets, pooling into her bottom lip and pouring onto the ground in front of her. Her large, floppy ears grew with the rest of her, framing her skull on either side. She did not resemble anything like a Mimiga anymore.
Quote desperately wanted King to either tell him to do something, or for King to start acting himself: Toroko's new form somewhat resembled what he had fought in the Egg Corridor, although perhaps because she had eaten more flowers than that one, she was considerably larger, and was innumerably more terrifying.
She began crawling towards them both, her eyes erratic although always focused on either of them. She growled threateningly, those huge, sharp claws of hers dragging on the stone ground whenever she made a pat forward. Her head was low, showing her arched shoulder-blades poking lewdly up from his back.
King stood still, his sword held still at his side with both hands. Whenever she made a move forward, he and Quote would take a step back, until their backs were to the wall. The door out was just to their left, but they didn't want to take any risks moving anywhere but away from Toroko – and besides, the door was large enough for her to fit through anyway, so running wouldn't accomplish much.
King desperately didn't want to fight – he had fought and searched so hard to get Toroko back. He even tried to trade Sue for her, in his desperation. He had no idea just how strong a frenzied Mimiga was, but if they fought, one of them was going to die, and he couldn't risk that. "Toroko," he said, his sword remaining taut in his hands but still making no move to use it. "It's King, Toroko…"
Quote didn't want to fight Toroko either – he still had that pendant tied to his belt – but he didn't think reasoning with Toroko was the way out, exactly. King took a step forward, noting how Toroko was still advancing towards them both, but hadn't made a lunge yet. "It's okay, Toroko," he said quietly, his nerves shot: he was scared to death, but whether it was because he didn't want to accept that Toroko was lost, or because he might have to slay her himself, Quote didn't know. "We'll get you back to the village, and we can have Jack think of–"
She gave a terrifying roar and swatted at King with her left hand. King was nimble, and managed to jump over the low swing with his powerful legs, but still did not make a move with his sword. Toroko sprang from her back legs, and made a powerful swing with her right at Quote – her open palm, claws extended, was nearly as big as he was. He ducked and rolled to his left, quickly springing himself back to his feet behind her, his machine gun once again at the ready, but still, did not fire. King's not-a-suggestion from when they met in the village was still clear in his mind, although every sensible nerve in his body told him to pull that trigger.
Having missed both her targets, Toroko swung back around, now on her hind legs, standing like the one in the Egg Corridor. The blood from her mouth still dripping to her feet, the first one she saw was King, and charged at him without any direction, much like her usual fighting style. Not that she really needed any training; with her new size and fury, the ground rumbled with each step she took, and the air whistled with each swing of the claws she made with either hand.
King knew he couldn't really defend himself against Toroko, instead choosing to jump and duck and roll around each fevered swing she made. His reflexes wanted him to return the offence, to swing that sword and get her right in the neck, but he simply…couldn't. It was Toroko he was fighting. He couldn't kill her.
A series of breathy 'fweets' filled the air, and suddenly Toroko was recoiling from a sudden burning sensation in her back. She turned around, her fury building on itself, seeing Quote standing there with the machine gun up to his shoulder as he continued unloading his limitless clip into her fur. In response, she dug her right hand into the stone underneath her, and lifted up a chunk larger than Quote straight out of the earth. With just one hand, she biffed it forward, splitting the air as it soared straight for him.
He couldn't wait for King's command anymore, and he doubted he'd ever receive it anyway at this rate. He wanted to save Toroko, he really, really did…but she was gone, and there was nothing neither he nor King could do could save her. There was no other option readily available, and he chose to do what King couldn't. He, of course, expected her to react to his offensive, although he wasn't exactly ready for her to just pick up a chunk of the earth and throw it right at him. He jumped awkwardly to his right, barely managing to miss the rock as it collided fiercely with the wall of the storehouse, causing the whole building to rumble.
Toroko jumped high into the air once she had thrown the rock, aiming straight for Quote as she came back down. Each of the claws on her hands and feet aimed directly at him, ready to skewer him effortlessly when she landed. Quote was keeping his eye on her, and ran directly underneath her flight path, his machine gun pointed up at her and firing ceaselessly. She roared with each hit, not seeming to get any weaker from the strikes, but instead just angrier.
Once she landed, she pivoted and launched herself with stunning speed and strength back towards Quote, this time keeping herself lower to the ground. He wasn't prepared for her to recover so quickly from her own attack, and was caught off-guard as he received a devastating right hook from Toroko, sending him tumbling across the ground, head over foot, for a few yards. It hurt, but he ignored the pain, knowing that if he faltered for even a second, Toroko might find the opportunity to do something much worse.
He scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, prepping his machine gun once again, to see that King had come to his senses, and began attacking Toroko himself. While Quote was still getting the hang of his body (although he was getting much better at it, he still hadn't mastered himself yet), King was the epitome of a nimble soldier, ducking and weaving between each swing and kick Toroko made and responding with his own swings and thrusts with his sword. Each blow he managed to connect didn't seem to do much to Toroko, however: with every swing into her muscled biceps, the sword would just bounce off her fur and skin, her muscles apparently making an excellent shield of armour by themselves. She responded with each hit with another bloody roar, though, so she was clearly feeling each strike.
Quote kneeled on his left leg, taking careful aim for Toroko's head and pulled the trigger, feeling the recoil of the machine gun try to push his arms up and over his shoulder, but his grip held fast. She felt each hit, and turned towards him, briefly forgetting about King as she considered going after Quote once again. With another swing, King's sword managed to cut a shallow gash across his torso; still not deep enough to draw blood, amazingly, but enough to cause Toroko to suddenly cry out in pain.
Frustrated at the distractions, Toroko clenched both her hands into giant fists, and brought them over her head before swinging them back down with as much force as she could muster towards the ground. A dull explosion filled the room, the vibration knocking King right off his feet and Quote off his balance, as well as dislodging a few beams from the ceiling, causing them to come crashing down with a metallic clang.
Toroko reached for the fallen King, who was unable to scamper away from her reach in time as she grabbed him with her whole left hand. Unsympathetic, she gave a strong squeeze, contracting King's bones and organs powerfully with a simple flex, causing him to yelp in pain before suddenly silencing as all his breath left him.
She hadn't forgotten about the robot behind her; twisting around, she flung King towards Quote with all her might, managing to make a direct hit, sending them both flopping over each other with tremendous velocity before colliding harshly with the back wall.
They both groaned, each of their bones and joints pleading for them to stop and rest as they pulled themselves to their feet. King was out of breath, coughing and hacking as he tried to stand again under his own power. He had dropped his sword mid-flight; he needed to get back to it before Toroko cut them both off. He was tough as nails, though – Toroko would have to do a bit more than squeeze him like a plush doll to get him to succumb. Quote wondered just how strong Arthur was, remembering how he was so revered in the village for his strength when King could take such a punishment and simply walk it off.
Toroko had hesitated before continuing her ferocious assault, stopping to check the wound King had left across her chest. "I don't suppose," King said between his heaving breaths, "you have any ideas?" Quote didn't have any in particular; his usual strategy was to just shoot at whatever he shot at until it died. It worked in the Egg Corridor and it worked somewhat in Grasstown, but Toroko didn't have any particular weaknesses, since she was just so meaty and her skin provided such an awesome defence. He shook his head no, replacing his machine gun back across his right shoulder while simultaneously reaching for his missile launcher.
King pulled himself together, sighing dejectedly. "I can't believe we're…" he stopped, the very thought that that thing they were fighting was once adorable little Toroko, practically his own flesh and blood, making him sick. And now she was something else entirely, trying to rip their stuffing out in her blind fury. He didn't need to finish that sentence; Quote could never truly understand his reluctance to what he was doing, being an outsider, but he could understand that it was difficult for him, to say the least.
She felt that she had recovered enough, spinning around and began dashing back towards them, her huge footsteps reverberating through the air and pounding their eardrums. Quote began kneeling again, taking careful aim with his missile launcher, making sure that every hit counted, before firing a short volley into her path. The first few managed to catch her in her face, while the others hit her in the chest as she reeled in her pain. King took the advantage to run for his sword, laying just underneath Toroko's right foot; with a slide, he picked up the silver blade with his left hand, swinging it hard to hit Toroko in the ankles as he switched the sword to his right hand.
She roared some more, her throat sounding garbled and muffled through some liquid, as she swept the floor with her hands, hoping to catch King as he hacked at her legs. She was unsuccessful, the comparatively tiny Mimiga evading expertly from each of her blind swings. The smoke finally cleared, restoring her vision to see King as he made more swings and thrusts at various non-lethal spots on her lower body. Her upper body appeared scorched and shredded from the missiles, fur and skin entirely missing in various patches, displaying several burnt holes in her body. She did not move like the injuries inhibited her in any way, though, and she was still swinging and hitting as strongly as ever.
King met her new onslaught with just as much precision as ever, seemingly knowing every move and attack she made before she made them, ducking and sidestepping and strafing several fierce kicks and swings while striking at each opening he saw. She grunted and growled with each miss, becoming increasingly frustrated as her opponent evaded each hit while he kept stinging her with his own attacks. She swung backhanded and open-handed, clapping her hands (her large, unwieldy claws sometimes digging into her own palms), slapping the ground, kicking and punting at each opportunity she could, but he was always one step ahead and was meeting each of her attacks with his own.
Her wrists and arms finally began to bleed from all the hits King was making on her, causing her to shout in anger all the more. Quote, meanwhile, was having difficulty getting another shot on Toroko, since she kept moving and pivoting around as she chased King, never really giving him an opening. Finally, she had her back turned to him as she focused some more attacks on King, and he fired another small volley into her back.
She arched and yelped in pain as each missile made their hit, her teeth clenching and her eyes closed as the explosions made her wince. King saw her expression – it was the same hurt expression that she gave him when he demanded her to give him the key to Arthur's house. Underneath those huge claws and bleeding teeth, that odd face and that giant body, was still Toroko, and Toroko was getting roasted from behind with a barrage of missiles from Quote's launcher.
He faltered; his heart rendered for a moment when he remembered Toroko give him that face before. The explosions ended quickly, and she looked down at him, a renewed anger in her blood-red eyes as she swat forward with the back of her right hand, all memories of who King was melted away behind her primal fury. He didn't react in time, and took the full hit, sending him flying backwards a short distance before, thinking quickly, he stabbed the ground with his sword to stop his velocity.
Toroko ran back up to King, grabbing him again as before, this time with both hands. She didn't catch his sword-hand on her palms, however, and just as she began to squeeze again, he whipped the sword across the underside of her right wrist, slicing open her skin in one hit.
She cried out in pain again, and furiously tossed King behind her with her left hand: her right was suddenly feeling numb, and was bleeding rivers across where King had made the hit. She didn't let that slow her down: all she knew was to fight and kill, and began charging back at them the moment she released King, whom had fallen face-down in a patch of red flowers from the landing.
Quote fired another few missiles at Toroko before dropping the launcher all together, nearly spent of its ammunition. He quickly unclipped the machine gun from his right shoulder and began firing at Toroko once again, aiming for where the last few missiles had landed. From all her building injuries from King's sword and Quote's munitions, her roars of anger with each consecutive hit slowly transformed into waning whimpers and pleads. She continued charging though, her pace and stature uneven and sloppy with each step. She ignored King completely, gunning straight for Quote as he continued firing that machine gun into her face, each burning shot taking off a bit more fur before flaking off a bit more skin.
With her weak right arm, she balled another fist and raised it high above her head before crashing it back down towards Quote. With his own powerful legs, he made a strong horizontal leap away from Toroko, making a controlled landing (he was working on his landings) before pivoting and opening fire again. Her fist did not make such an impressive sound as it hit the floor, sounding less like an explosion and more like a simple 'thud'.
Breathing hard, she turned back toward Quote, her arm and her jaw dripping blood the whole way while she took his shots to the face and chest. She began charging back towards him – though in her injured state, she could only muster the energy to walk angrily – roaring meekly and groaning with each heavy step. The fur all but gone from her entire torso and skull, her bleeding wrist and all her exploded patches of skin burning with each movement, she finally began collapsing from the pain, falling to her knees before falling unconscious entirely.
Quote kept his machine gun aimed at her body, ready to begin firing again if she made another move, but she kept deathly still, the blood beginning to pool around her right arm and face. Just as the other Mimiga in the Egg Corridor, Toroko began to shrink once she stopped moving: her naked, burnt, torn body decreasing; her muscles losing all that build; her ears and teeth and arms and legs moving back to their petite proportions, and soon enough, Toroko looked like a Mimiga again: small, not quite as furry, harmless, and dead.
Quote dropped the sight on his machine gun, lowering it to the ground when he saw Toroko shrinking. He looked at the little girl he was forced to kill; he remembered when he nearly flattened her when he fell from high above the village, and he remembered how she told him how the Doctor had killed her brother, and how she and Sue were the best of friends. He clipped the machine gun back onto his shoulder, gripping the silver fish-shaped pendant in his left hand as he stood. The Doctor just gave him a very good reason for him to pay a 'house visit' of his own; he was certain King would agree.
"You!" King called, grabbing his attention. King sounded desperate over something – maybe he was injured from that last throw? Quote turned, and saw that he was on his hand and knees in the patch of red flowers he had landed face-first in. His arms and legs appeared swollen and deformed, and his body was quickly gaining mass, straining against his purple, tattered robe–
"I," he groaned, resting his head in his two swollen hands. He suddenly had a splitting headache, and his vision was beginning to turn red. Quote ran over to him, suddenly very panicked. "I," he stuttered again, trying to hold onto himself, "swallowed a pet– a petal or two, I don't know." His voice continually cracked unevenly, each word beginning to sound deeper and angrier than the last. Quote rested a hand on King's back, unsure of what he should do. Would he have to fight King, too? Injured, and low on missiles, against a frenzied King? Who knows how well trained a Mimiga like him could fight while under the influence?
"Listen to m– me," he said, looking up to see Quote in the eyes and grabbing his left arm with his own right. His eyes were already blood-red, his pupils beginning to vanish underneath the tone. "Take my sword and…" he lowered his head, groaning loudly, clutching his skull in his left hand. "Kill me, please!"
Quote couldn't say he didn't expect that sort of command, given that King knew first hand what would happen to him if he allowed himself to go through with this transformation. He was still fairly small, but his mass was growing exponentially by the heartbeat, his robe already beginning to tear. "Do it, man!" King roared, his hand painfully clutching Quote's arm in his sudden rage. "While I'm still me! Don't let me d– die a monster!"
He knew what he was doing when he first opened fire on Toroko: he knew that she was gone, and that there was no cure for this 'ailment'. He knew the case would be the same with King, as well, but…killing two of his friends, one after the other, was a little difficult to bare on his conscience. There wasn't much option, though…the very least he could do was do what King had begged of him, and kill him while he could still call himself a Mimiga.
King's pained groans began to grow louder and deeper with each passing moment as his body began to take the same shape Toroko's had. Quote picked up the silver sword laying only a few feet from where King had landed by the handle – he didn't exactly know how to wield a sword, although the basic premise wasn't that much different from a gun: the other end goes into the target.
His arms suddenly feeling as heavy as lead, he gripped the handle with both ends, the blade held backhand as he raised it up over King's lowered head. He faltered, suddenly feeling unable to make the move, the very tip of the blade hovering perilously just over King's neck, all nerve to bring it down and through his throat drained. King was still changing from the red flower's ingestion: through sheer force of will, he was keeping himself suppressed from transforming totally, but it was clearly a losing battle for him.
King gave a deafening roar as he began to let his rage overtake him. His obsidian claws were each growing and dragging across the ground, his teeth extending and sharpening as his gums tore and bled from the strain, his muscles continuing to layer on themselves, forming a powerful–
Finally getting up the courage to do the deed, Quote brought his arms down as swiftly as he could manage, skewering King's head on the blade, ceasing the bloody roar and the transformation immediately. King's body went limp, laying as still as Toroko's as his body slowly began undoing its changes, shrinking everything back down to its normal size as slowly as it had expanded.
Quote held still for a moment, unbelieving that he had just killed King with his own sword. He kept telling himself that it was what King wanted, and that he wanted to die as a heroic Mimiga who had protected his village and his friends, and not as a bloodthirsty, rampaging beast that killed and destroyed everything it laid its eyes on. It granted him little solace all the same.
He released his grip on the handle, his eyes wide and his mouth agape, seeing the bloody mess that was King laying deceptively peacefully in the patch of red flowers. The red flowers…the Doctor. He suddenly felt a powerful rage of his own; a blood-curdling need to pay that man a visit was all he could think about.
He considered what his next action should be, between all his thoughts on what he would do once he finally met the Doctor again. But between all his hate and anger toward the man, all he could otherwise think about was how he had shoved a sword through King's neck. Both he and Toroko deserved proper burials – though he felt a pang of guilt when he thought of the Mimiga in the Egg Corridor, who received no such luxury. He eyed the silver sword again, sticking straight up from where it was thrust into the ground. He couldn't decide whether or not King would appreciate it if Quote took the sword; to use it against the Doctor as a sort of poetic justice; or to leave it as his tombstone, out of the hands of an outsider.
Deliberating with himself, he decided that it King might appreciate the former. Whether Quote was an outsider or not, King had entrusted his life to him as they fought against Toroko, so he couldn't have thought that lowly about Quote. And, he seemed the type to want to be avenged anyhow – although that was a given, whether or not it was with the sword.
Quote noticed the sword's sheath lying still next to King: it was attached to his robe earlier, before the sudden strain on the cloth had broken its grip on the thread. Feeling just a stab of guilt as he picked up the sheath, the idea of robbing the dead a painful one to entertain, he also, slowly and gently, removed the bloody sword from King's body. He could only dream of one day wielding the sword the same way King had only a few minutes ago; he placed the sword in the sheath, and clipped the sheath to the left side of his belt, wrapping the silver pendant around them both.
After retrieving his dropped missile launcher, he slowly left the storehouse; his head hung low and his eyes half-lidded as he replayed the whole event over and over again in his mind. What was there left to do now? He had come here, hoping to burn the flowers and their seeds before they could be used to start another war with the surface. Now, the seeds were gone; the flowers were used; the one little girl he tried to rescue, along with the village's leader, were dead; and the Doctor managed to get away. The walk through the Sand Zone was the last thing he wanted to do.
He lifted his head a little bit, to have an easier time seeing where he was walking. Just up ahead was Jenka's house – the newest skylight Balrog had made was already firmly patched once again. He didn't know what, exactly, he should say to Jenka, if anything. And what about Curly? Would he just leave her here with the kids? Should he try to convince–
Quote was suddenly and instantly knocked unconscious, when a falling Balrog – still wounded on both sides – jumped from the top of the storehouse and landed directly on his head. Quote didn't hear him, and had no idea what was coming. "Huzzah!" Balrog said shortly after confirming that he was indeed knocked out, pointing his left stub at Quote vindictively. "Sorry," he giggled to himself, feeling immense gratification over finally getting a one-up over the soldier, "I should have watched my step."
Misery teleported next to them both, hovering a few feet off the ground as she normally did. "He's alive, then?" she asked. Business before pleasure.
"Well, he might not be now," Balrog laughed, kicking the soldier roughly on the ground. Quote lay limp, totally unresponsive to anything Balrog did to him. "But yeah, he survived the frenzied Mimiga."
Misery landed gracefully, walking up to Quote, leaning down to inspect him closely. "Who know who this one reminds me of?" she asked Balrog, not expecting an answer, which Balrog did not give anyway. "He reminds me of the other one, just a while ago. A tough little robot, just like him." She saw the pearl-white of his skin hidden under the dirt, grime and sand of his recent adventures, and the grooves along his face. She noted the receptors on his ears, and the surprisingly human black hair he had on his head. She prodded him gently with the balled end of her staff, and again, he did not respond.
"He's tough," Misery concluded as she stood. Balrog gave her a confused look; well, yeah, he was tough! This guy fought off himself twice in a row, and a frenzied Mimiga just a few hours later! Walking through the Sand Zone alone was an accomplishment worth bragging. "I can see that confronting him directly just makes things complicated. He may be a robot, but he learns quickly, and he can be very resourceful. I can…respect that in an opponent."
"What are you going on about?" interrupted Balrog.
She looked her peculiarly-shaped friend in his large eyes. "If we leave him be, he'll just keep getting stronger and smarter, and we don't have a whole lot of things to confront him with. You're strong, Balrog, so at least you're good for something – but even with my magic helping you, you still lost when he fought you. Alone."
Balrog looked at her, then back to the soldier, who showed no signs of immediate recovery. "Do you want to kill him? Right now? It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel. C'mon, it'll be fun."
"I most certainly do not!" She replied fiercely, spooking Balrog suddenly. "He's the best shot we have at breaking our curse for…ages! And you want to kill him?"
"Whoa, there, Misery," Balrog said, raising his stubs and patting downwards, trying to signal to her to calm down. "Yeah, I can't say I like working for that crown either, but," he paused, carefully planning his words. "We can't go against whoever wears it. If we leave him here, we'll be putting the Doctor's life at risk. We gotta do something about him."
"I'm aware of my limitations," she replied snidely. "But I'm not going to pass up this chance." She raised her staff, the balled end of it beginning to glow an off-blue. "I'll send him to the Labyrinth. He'll be wandering around in there for eternity, so I can safely say that I had sentenced him to his death. If he should find a way out," she finished, grinning. "Well, that's through no fault of ours, right?" And with just a thought, Quote melted away from existence, teleported to another area in the island.
Balrog was uncertain, however, furrowing his imaginary brow as he thought. "I don't know about this, Mis–"
"You're going with him," she interrupted, and before he could respond, or try to run, or something, he melted away as well, looking utterly shocked as he suddenly found himself in a wholly different area. Misery laughed lowly to herself, standing on her toes and clapping her heels together in delight. "Heavens, that felt good."