Chapter 3: Exiled

"No!" Bob's cry was deafened by the boosters igniting under his feet as he shot up and away from Mainframe, his eyes locked on Dot until he could see her no more. Purple liquid rippled around the glass, and then the portal of Mainframe was arcing away from him, lost below his upward trajectory in a sea of orange, purple, and red. Bob's voice left him as he saw the vastness of the web, and nothing in sight to stop his momentum. 'What if I never stop?' Bob's mind cruelly flashed an image of the inside of the capsule, empty save for a pile of guardian clothes, the owner long since deleted. The morbid thought vanished as he caught sight of one of the web's notorious creatures, a huge, inky black, snake-like being with six spindly arms that undulated behind it. Bob glimpsed long white fangs before he sailed past, and he silently prayed to the User that the creature did not see him.

His prayer went unheard.

Bob cried out as the shuttle quaked with the first impact of the creature latching onto the hull. The arms wrapped around the vessel several times over, as it drew itself close enough for eight red eyes to press against the glass, staring in at its meal. The guardian pressed himself against the back, trying to move as far from that stare as he could. Rows of sharp, jagged fangs crashed into the right side door, denting but not breaking through the material. It attacked again, to no avail. Its angry eyes blinked once, never leaving the eyes of the helpless passenger inside.

By the User, he could almost see the creature calculating its next move.

The arms moved around the transport, and Bob realized it was looking for another way in. He crouched to the floor, arms over his head, as he heard the ceiling be pounded on mercilessly, then the walls, until the arms came upon the doors. 'Uh, oh'. Bob watched, mesmerized at the barely perceptible movement of the doors, not yet enough to allow the toxic atmosphere to enter, but enough to send Bob's heart into his throat.

The creature's eyes almost took on a look of glee as it appeared to solve its little puzzle.

Bob watched the arms begin to pull apart the doors and found a perverse comfort that he wasn't going to have to worry about wasting away to deletion in the web. He closed his eyes, and pictured Dot's face. 'I'm so sorry…'

The screech was nearly unbearable, and Bob tucked himself into a ball in an attempt to get away from the deadly atmosphere and the crushing tentacle of the creature… but neither attacked him. Bob peaked out from under his arm to see the monster was gone, its screech one of frustration as it flew away. 'What?' Bob approached the glass, mystified why it had retreated, and dreading the answer. 'A bigger creature?' But all Bob could see was a cloud, bright in color and swirling in angry bursts of energy. Lightning crackled inside, and fire spewed from all sides. It was a web storm, and he was sailing straight for it.

Bob thought furiously, wondering if he threw his weight at the door, it could cause him to drift passed the storm, but too late he was caught in the maelstrom. A constant thunder overwhelmed Bob's ears, and the winds tossed the vessel into a spin that was rapidly gaining velocity. Soon, Bob found himself crushed against the wall, the increasing gravity making it near impossible to even lift his arms. He closed his eyes to block out the nauseating picture of the storm spinning so fast outside of the glass, the colors blended into one big swirl of blazing orange and vengeful red.

Suddenly, over the thundering of the storm and the pounding of his heart, he could hear metal tearing. 'It's breaking apart!' Bob could focus on no more than that as it was becoming increasingly difficult to breath from the pressure on his chest. His mind began to flash pictures of what his body would look like before fading to deletion, after being torn to parts, ripped into pieces, and burned to a blackened crisp once his soft flesh became exposed.

The shuttle exploded in light and Bob was suddenly thrown forward, into the storm, into oblivion, his voice screaming in the only real fear he could ever remembering feeling…

"Ow!" His scream was cut short when his head smacked against the glass doors. His arm lifted to cradle his head, but was unable to move as it was pinned between his body and the doors. Cracking open one eye, Bob could see nothing but darkness on the outside. Inside the shuttle, though, the insane spinning had stopped, and there was an eerie quiet compared to the core rattling thunder of the storm, a quiet broken only by his rapid breaths and pounding heart. A lone light in the ceiling flickered persistently.

Forcing himself to a state of calm, he carefully moved to his knees. He couldn't stand fully up right, as the shuttle was now laying doors down on something. The guardian listened carefully for any indication of where he was. Focusing on his surroundings, he could feel a slight tremble through his hands as they rested on the shuttle. 'Movement? Or, turbulence?'

Noise from outside the shuttle caused Bob's breath to catch, ears straining to hear more. Heavy stomps, steady, moving closer. Footsteps! The shuttle rocked back and forth when something smashed into the side.

"Anybody alive in there?"

"Depends on who's asking," Bob replied back, relieved at hearing a sentient being outside his prison, but cautious as he could not see the owner of the gruff voice.

A cackle filled Bob's ears. "We've got a live one, boys!" Before he could begin to comprehend the words, the shuttle was lifted up and Bob slid to the floor as he was righted. He peered out the doors but could see nothing beyond warped and blackened glass, nearly melted by the web storm. However, he could hear multiple voices on the outside of the door, and they sounded like a lively bunch. A bar appeared between the doors and began to pry the twisted metal apart.

Bob's right hand went instinctively to his left wrist, feeling the empty space there, and he desperately wished Glitch was still there in case his rescuers were too lively. Instead, he took a defensive posture and waited, ready to fight his was through should the need arise.

With a groan, the doors finally broke away enough for multiple pairs of hands to grab the doors and open them fully. There, on the other side, were six heads staring in at the slightly worse for wear Guardian.

"Hi," Bob greeted them.

Silence greeted him back, and he overcame the urge to squirm under the intense scrutiny of the ragged bunch. And ragged was putting it kindly. All six looked like they slept in piles of dirt and grim, if only to cover the several scars that crisscrossed their faces. Some had earrings, some glared with prosthetic eyes, some smiled with missing teeth, but all had danger reeking from their cold stares.

"Since you were so kind to give me a lift, I don't suppose you could drop me off at the nearest system? I have a really important engagement to make."

"It's a Guardian."

Bob recognized the voice as the one whom first spoke to him, a voice coming from a tall, muscular, but less than intelligent looking sprite with a red bandana and a twin bladed knife on his belt. The others murmured agreement, and their wide eyes soon were replaced by looks of anticipation.

"We haven't had a guardian, before," spoke another, a small, white, and bald fellow with darts in his belt.

"Can we keep him?" smirked a third, this one the tallest of the group and gangly with large fists covered by metal braces.

Bob bristled at the question. "Hey, I am not a pet!" His indignant cry was met with a bellow of laughter.

"That's what you think, but you'll soon learn!" 'Gruff' laughed as he reached into the shuttle and grabbed Bob by his collar, easily lifting him off his feet.

"Hey!" Bob struggled with his captor, his legs dangling in the air. 'Oh no, you don't.' Bob threw his legs out and wrapped them around the white sprite who lost his balance and pulled Bob out of Gruff's grip. Bob wasted no time in rolling onto his feet, swinging his leg in a wide arc back toward Gruff, hitting him behind the knees and causing the large brute to topple backwards. He stood and ducked away from a swing by the tall sprite, the metal knuckles on his fist cracking into the wood as Bob dodged. The sprite bellowed in pain, and Bob jumped on his back, pushing him into two other sprites who rushed him. The three crashed together in a pile of legs and arms, their struggle to get up effectively knocking over a small table.

Bob winced at the sound of breaking glass. "And that's why we can't have nice things," Bob chided. He looked around at the felled rouges. "Now, where were we? Transport! I need a transport, and how about some energy to go?"

Bob turned around at a sound behind him, and the blow hit him solidly in the chest, flinging him back against the wall. He was so stunned by the power of the hit he had no time to react when that same force drove into his stomach, crumbling him to the floor as all air left his lungs.

"We'll transport you, Guardian. But not where you want to go," Gruff sneered, back on his feet and towering over Bob. He yanked Bob up under his left arm, and another sprite lifted him under his right. "Resist again, and I'll break your legs."

Bob could only cough as he attempted to breathe normally again.

"Is that it from him? I thought these guardians were supposed to be tough," he barely heard over his panting breaths. "Guess they just don't make them like they used to." Mocking laughter filled his ears as he was dragged down a long hallway. Bob tried to take in as much of his surroundings as he could, but could only gather that he was somewhere made of wood and metal, there were many sprites that looked less than reputable, and the grips on the two who carried him were causing him to lose feeling in his hands.

They stopped at a large door and knocked, entering only when granted. The room was fairly large, and elegantly decorated. Bob's mind immediately jumped to piracy, and he held a hope that these sprites might be familiar with Captain Capacitor, otherwise known as The Crimson Binome. He was roughly dropped on his knees, and the sprites held him as he struggled to stand.

"And what have we here, gentleman?" a male silken voice asked from behind. Bob tried to turn his head in the direction, but the sprites were making it very difficult.

"A prize inside the shuttle we tracked in the storm," Gruff answered.

"Not much of one, if you ask me." The second sprite that hauled Bob spoke, his pale yellow skin dotted by green and brown specs. From what Bob had seen, it looked like he had two hammers on his belt.

"We didn't ask you, Clunk, so shut up," Gruff spat.

"Suck on a magnet, Tower," Clunk snapped.

"Such language! Why don't you two play outside, and let me have a word with out guest," the unseen sprite ordered mildly.

The sprites released Bob, and he moved to stand, but Tower smacked him down again. "You stay down! Do not move unless told to."

'Yeah, right.' Bob took a breath, forcing himself to keep his cool, and instead chose to wait until Tower and Clunk had left. When they did, Bob climbed to his feet.

Crack! Bob cried out as an electric current surged through his legs right at his knees, and he collapsed onto hands and knees, head bowed near the floor while he focused on relaxing his muscles that continued to spasm.

"Not very good at listening, are you?"

Footsteps walked around the guardian until they stopped right under his nose, and through his haze of pain, Bob could make out black boots of shiny leather. Stains covered the tips of each, and Bob thought they may have been made by dried energy. That was not a good sign.

Crack! Bob crashed to the floor, the electrical current having surged through his back with such force it felt like a physical blow. The footsteps continued to move around him, slowly, as if taking great care in where each step was placed. Bob turned his head, attempting to look up at his assailant. A blurry figure of red and black slowly came into focus.

"If I have your attention now, perhaps you will be good enough to do what I say, else you will be spending whatever time you have left in a great deal of pain." The red sprite crouched down, his gold eyes bright with politeness. "How 'bout it, Guardian?"

Bob stared back, refusing to answer. Instead, he logged all of the information he could gather from the apparent leader of the group. Long, jet black hair pulled in a pony tail, skin red as if burned by a tear, adorned in a simple black leather one piece that had no sleeves and was accentuated by a silver belt and sword. His face was smooth, with no traces of brawl scars, and one could say handsome by the balance of his features. His ears were long and pointed, black studs pierced through in several places.

But most striking were his eyes. Bright gold in color, they were filled with intelligence, humor, and warmth that seemed completely out of place with the reversing current whip in his hand. A smile that appeared genuine graced his lips, and his voice was kind when he spoke.

"Hmm, I'll take your silence as agreement. But if you try to do anything without permission," he waved the whip back and forth, "then you'll get another tap." He stood and walked away, calling out for someone named Cooky to bring in something called a Bandit Backup.

Bob took the opportunity to close his eyes and catch his breath. His body was on fire, but the spasms had stopped, and though his muscles felt sore, he was sure that he would have enough energy to make a break for it, when the time was right. He didn't know where he would go or what he would do to get there, but those were minor details he would handle as they came around.

The footsteps came back, and suddenly the red sprite was kneeling by him. "Sit up, and drink this." Bob felt the sprite grab him under his arm and help him up, and then pressed the steaming mug into his hands. "It will help."

Bob stared the sprite down, his face fixed and his body making no movement to drink whatever was given to him.

"You are defiant," the sprite laughed and stood, walking away a few steps to a large chair that he draped himself across, one leg swung up over the arm. He reached to a table beside him and picked up his own cup. "It's the finest brew we have on board, a mix of spirits and energy that will get you buzzing." He took a large sip and encouraged Bob to do the same. "Trust me, it will help with the pain."

"How's so, by knocking me out? Do you have something extra added, just for me?"

The sprite almost looked shocked. "Now, Guardian, do you think I would treat you this well if I was only planning to drug you, or poison you?"

'Yes, so well,' Bob thought as his sore muscles reminded him of the treatment he received.

"Are you hungry?"

Bob's stomach rumbled. "No."

The sprite smiled. "You will be a fun one."

Bob's face dropped into a frown. "What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes moving across the ceiling as if weighing a great decision. "Oh, that can wait," he decided, his head cocking to the side as he inspected his guest. "What are you called?"

"Guardian," Bob answered simply.

The sprite shook his head. "I meant your name. I can see what your format is."

"Bob."

"Hello, Bob. I am called Blackadder. Welcome aboard The Escape."

"Pirates?"

Blackadder laughed. "Hardly. We do not raid systems for loot. We help systems fight, for a fee."

Mercenaries. "Fight what?"

"What ever is requested. Though right now we are in demand to replace your kind."

Bob frowned. "My kind?"

"Guardians aren't viewed too fondly at the moment." Blackadder sipped from his cup again, his eyes taking on a curious look. "Didn't you know?"

Bob's mouth tightened. He'd heard rumors that Guardians had been turning rouge, but he'd been hearing those since he first joined the academy. And yet, he had received a cryptic message from Turbo not long ago to stay clear of the SuperComputer, but he had never found out why with first Mouse and then the web creature causing mayhem in Mainframe.

"We've assisted systems in winning games, games that stopped being fought by those Guardians sworn to protect the system. Apparently, Guardians have been fleeing to the SuperComputer and leaving systems to fend for themselves. Many are not doing too well."

Bob's eyes widened at the statement. Guardians leaving behind systems with no means of defense? Impossible! His eyes narrowed. "Even if what you say is true, you expect me to believe that your sprites are actually helping systems? Concern for others doesn't appear to fit your format."

Blackadder laughed and sighed. "Oh, how wrong you are. For the right price, our formats fit the desired service. Right now, we are transporting supplies to a satellite system that has been built inside the web, to stay out of contact with the net."

"A system outside of the Net? I've never heard of such a thing."

"Of course not, Guardian. You're the enemy, remember?" Blackadder gracefully moved to his feet and stepped towards Bob. "And that's why we can't have you running away to the SuperComputer and ruining everything, can we?"

Bob became increasingly uncomfortable with Blackadder standing over him, and his knees were beginning to hurt. He eyed the whip dangling at the mercenaries' side, and swallowed his pride long enough to bite out the question, "May I stand?"

Blackadder's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Well, he can be taught!" He leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Maybe there is hope for you yet, young one." With an upward gesture of his hand, he encouraged Bob to do as he pleased, and walked away to a table covered in food.

Bob stood and turned, watching the sprite as he picked at some energy fruit. "Blackadder, I don't know what is going on with these Guardians you speak about, but right now, the SuperComputer is the last thing I care about. I need to get back to my system."

"You mean the same system that launched you to a horrifying, painful deletion in the web? Sounds like they will be so pleased to have you home."

"It was not the citizens, it was a virus. A virus who right now is going to try and infect the whole system and claim it as his own. I can't let that happen."

"And what are you going to do about it, Guardian-with-no-keytool?" Blackadder asked as he turned back around.

Bob unconsciously grabbed his left wrist. "I will do whatever it takes."

Blackadder stared at him for a moment. His eyes traveled up and down the Guardian then he stepped forward slowly. "Tell me, how did this virus manage to trap you and send you to certain doom?"

Bob flinched. "I trusted him."

"Trusted him to do what?"

"To help save our system."

"Hmm. Well, I'll bet you learned a valuable lesson."

"Look, if you help me, I will pay you back in whatever you ask. I give you my word."

"Your word?" Blackadder mocked, walking a slow circle around Bob. "I made a mistake, too, once, trusting in the protection of a savior in our system. He promised to "mend and defend" until got tired of our little part of the net. He stopped fighting viruses, stopped mending tears, stopped fighting games. Then he just left, back to the SuperComputer, where the real action was. My system crashed, and everyone unable to escape was deleted. I learned a valuable lesson." He stepped up close behind Bob, his voice whispering in is ear. "Never trust a Guardian."

Bob felt a chill at the coldness in the sprite's voice, the bitterness of his loss the first show of emotion other than the deliriously happy sprite of earlier. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sure I'll find a way for you to make it up to me," Blackadder soothed as he moved back up to his chair, settling comfortably into it. "We are in need of another pair of hands for hull repairs. The Web can be so rough on my poor girl."

Bob spun around. "Please, my system needs me. I am not the Guardian from your system, I need to fight for Mainframe," Bob pleaded. "You can help stop it from falling apart, you can save thousands of innocents." He paused. "It's my home."

Blackadder cocked his head, tapping his fingers along the arm of the chair. "Not anymore." He depressed a button, the floor opened beneath Bob, and he fell without a sound down a long chute, his hands reaching out for anything to slow his descent. Nanoseconds later he was deposited into a dark pit, but not before he felt a stinging pain in his hand as he flew onto the solid surface.

Bob rolled a few feet before coming to rest on his back, his eyes shut as his right hand cradled his left. Slowly, he opened his eyes to scan the room, seeing he was in some type of a jail cell. The door seemed firmly locked, and there was nothing else in the space save the chute, a bench, and two other cells, one on each side of his own. No one else was around.

Taking a deep breath, Bob looked down at his hand and winced. One of his fingers was bent oddly, and fresh blue energy oozed from a jagged cut down his palm. He was going to have to set his finger and stop the bleeding. Then he was going to have to find a way out, find an escape pod, find Mainframe's tear, and make a portal. All without Glitch.

This was bad. This was very bad.