The Last Eliminator
Aid
Hooray! It finally looks like Timmy will get help! Right?
…..right?
Quote:
"There lieth the backbite of a sword, and the burn of flames.
But no such agony can be found as that of the feeling of betrayal…."
"Eyaaaaaaaugghhhhh!"
In a bolt of raining fire, the titanium craft burst into pieces as a staggering figure slowly emerged from the fog.
Wanda's eyes widened with disbelief as she glided forwards uncertainly.
"Mark Chang?!"
~*~
The alien swayed, red eyes meeting large pink orbs. He hiccuped, closed his mouth, and tried again.
His skin was a fine, dusty shade, numerous burns littering his body, and bruises (Though no worse then the "love scars" Vicky gave him on a
regular basis) were littering his body in shades of violet and blue.
"Turner," he managed in a whispering grunt.
The alien winced.
"Turner," he repeated stupidly, head spinning in and out of focus like a wild pukenator.
And then, in the prescence of three extremely startled, bewildered fairies, he fainted.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Timmy thought he might just scream into the pillow.
Enough.
He'd had enough.
Even risking the Darkness swallowing him whole looked like a good option right about now.
You'd lose whatever shred of sanity in this awful place. Timmy bit his lip in the shadows, the nighttime routine of tears passing down his
cheeks and onto his clenched palms.
The Eliminator was in power down mode....but it would be suicide to attempt escape again. Timmy tried three times....
...and each time, was roughly seized, dragged back to bed, and drugged for what felt like quite some time when he woke up.
He wouldn't know. There was no clock-no calender.
Time meant nothing here.
Kind of like third period math with Crocker. Except at least, Super Brain was off doing something or another, and he was left blearily drooling
on the desk....
Timmy buried his face in the pillow and allowed the ripping sounds from his body to increase in volume.
But even this misery beat sleep. Which was why Timmy hated, absolutely hated it when the Eliminator would force him back to it!
If Timmy was lucky, it would be a dreamless sleep.
But, Ninety percent of the time, it never was.
And all the child did when he awoke in a cold sweat was simply wish he'd never shut his eyes again.
*~*
He never woke feeling particularly rested. Quite the contrary-he felt like a caged barracuda in this state! Timmy angrily plopped on his pillow
with a sigh.
He'd never felt so lonely. Save for the time he'd bitterly thrown a magic eight ball at the wall.
But THAT had resulted in something good.
The best things that could've happened to him, truth be told.
But when that left you, what was left?
The hope had not quite died, but the restless and endless hours were beginning to take a heavy toll on the ten year old.
He couldn't take any more. No more fruit, no more shadows, no more endless whitewhitewhite washed walls!
The only thing he really had to do was to play tic-tac-toe with himself with the notebook the robot had given him, or attempt to write what
Wanda had called a haiku.
Crockpot had made one once....
Fs! Fs Everywhere
Amount the exact size
As Turner's buckteeth.
Here was Timmy's version:
Five syllables here.
And now you got seven more.
And now five. Happy?
Needless to say, if he ever reunited with his fairies-the when had turned to "if"-he wouldn't be dropping by Basho's time period with his
scooter.
He had to get out-by hook or by-
Timmy started, a strangled cry escaping him as a metallic pair of arms reached for him in the shadows.
A pair of green orbs met his cerulean.
"Timmy Turner....it is time."
Something like concrete dropped into the boy's stomach.
The robot simply gazed grimly back at him.
"I must fulfill my mission. I must bring you to my master."
The ten year old boy gulped.
And surmised the situation as such.
"Oh, crud."