The One Who Survived
Chapter 9
Thick mysterious mist and fog blanketed the planet of Shuggazoom. The metal streets of its capital were deserted and deathly quiet. Even the Super Robot in the middle of the steel metropolis was strangely mute. Nothing stirred a hair on the outside. The towering giant just stood there with that blank expression. But, just a few meters on the outskirts of the city, a heap of sharp metal pipes, poles, barrels, and broken, utterly fried, computers and all kinds of technology stood. And the whole grouping of rubble was coated in a thick ebony goo that coated and engulfed the metal. Some of it was steaming while hanging off of the odd pole sticking up in the clutter.
Under the clutter, a big, bulky arm laid, the flesh cold and lifeless. This wasn't a burial ground, but no one would want to give the passed on soul a proper funeral. The soiled ground was quiet, until the faint small sound of footsteps could be heard. Out of the mist came a holographic projection of the Skeleton King, two of his formless minions on his sides.
"Fool," snapped the warlord. "What a fool indeed. Defeated by the Hyperforce for the last time, I see." The Skeleton King went back to death glares, for he only had eyes for his dead servant. That way, he did not see the pair of shining blue eyes peeking at him from under a tent of fallen metal. The creature dared not move, but looked on to see what would befall the dead primate.
"Get the fool back to the Citadel to swab him for the last DNA." The dark creature addressed his formless. They did not respond, but slowly bent down to take the lifeless body by the arms. It would've seemed impossible for even the strongest man to pull the body out, seeing just how far wedged it was. But the formless seemed to have no trouble. The small, dirty creature still watched from its save haven while watching the formless even more closely. It, or she, was utterly fascinated by them. After all, she was formless too. Only an off brand.
She waited for a minute until the Skeleton King left with his twin minions dragging the lifeless body of her former master. It was over. When the cold footsteps died away, the girl wriggled out from her hiding spot to look around. Disgusting formless ooze coated the metal mess, while low mist filtered in on the ground and air. She was alone. Alone with her dead brothers who never got a chance to see the outside world. The girl could take no more as she slid down to her knees and began to cry loudly into the mushy ground.
They were mute cries, but they seemed just as real to the child. The girl stood up, her torn clothes utterly useless for warmth, and made her quiet way out of the bomb field. She was alone and only a child. Orphan was what humans called children without parents or a home. And orphans went to orphanages. But she had no time to think about that. As the orphan girl walked trough the clutter, she stopped short when her heavy black boot touched something soft. Unusual. The ground was hard and crusty. But the thing she had was a pillow. Torn, ragged, formless ooze covering part, and the faint outline of tear stains from a young girl. It was her pillow.
The child reached down to the pillow and gently dug her hands into its case, pulling out a fat book. It was in the perfect condition that she left. She gave the book a sympathetic glance and hugged it, while walking farther into the mist. She knew the troubles and dangers of the city, but it was her home now. She'd make the best of it. Her name is Cirro, formless clone set free by fate and sentenced to orphan hood. Now alone and lost.
Author's Note: WOO! The ending of my second story! I can't wait to post the sequal. It shall be up as soon as I can get a basic outline and plot for it. I have a vauge idea, but I still need to buff it up a bit. Thank you for reading!