First of all, thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story :) I wish I could take the time to thank all of you for it, but I'm pretty sure it would take me another half hour or so and something tells me you're going to want something to read as you guys wait out Winter Storm Charlotte (well, you know what I'll be doing :P). So, thank you everyone!
To DragonTempest: First of all, thank you SO much for all of your reviews (on every story, not just this one xD). I was pleasantly surprised when I realized you were going through and reading all of them :D Thank you so much! And yeah, you can go for it! I don't mind if you continue Dan and Runo's Legend/Prophecy (the stupid name didn't let me put a slash in it -_-). I think it would be really cool to see someone else's take on it! Thank you so much!
"The smart way to keep people passive and obedient is to strictly limit the spectrum of acceptable opinion, but allow very lively debate within that spectrum..."-Noam Chomsky
He knew it was only a matter of time before they called him out; him specifically.
He knew that he couldn't avoid the jeers, the taunts, the insults forever. When they didn't immediately bring his past actions to the table and call him out on them, it had been unsettling. Honestly, though, when they finally did begin, it was a relief. Waiting for them during the two weeks he had been their prisoner had been agonizing enough.
When Dan had arrived three days after they had been stuck there, his thoughts had been put at bay for only a short while. Part of him had even gone so far as to wonder if Dan had been captured for revenge against himself, but he quickly dismissed that. The last time they had seen each other, they had been enemies despite the fact that he had been trying to flee from those people he had been fighting for. So Dan hadn't been captured to be used against fact, he still felt a slight bit of animosity against the teen.
But even still, it wasn't like the Twelve Orders to let a traitor go unpunished. He had just barely avoided it the last time, although falling off a cliff to his expected demise could hardly count as successfully avoiding punishment.
Sid Arkale walked through the maze-like corridors of their prison with his muscled arms restrained, yet he held his head high, as though he were pretending that he really did have dignity to hold on to. He was positioned between two of his former superiors, one who had mentored him and trained him in the Pyrus attribute, and the other who was never far from his precious masters side.
Airzel disgusted him. Truly, he did. Sid had been Gill's most recent apprentice, his student. He could very easily say, though, that Airzel had been as much of a student to him as Sid had for the amount of time they were in each other's presence. In the very beginning, Airzel was present at most of Sid's lessons. As time went on, his visits tapered off as he was assigned more and more military missions, but when it was Gill on those missions, Airzel rarely allowed Sid to relax and skip a lesson. He'd step up as teacher then, and he'd always pick up where Gill had left off, or give him tips about brawling against other attributed opponents. Usually they were not helpful, but it had at the very least given Sid an idea of Airzel's unique brawling style.
Honestly, it was a miracle the man had managed to get into the Twelve Orders, although Sid had a suspicion that Gill had simply been playing favorites.
Gill was in front of him; Airzel behind him. The human-disguised Gundalian could feel his gaze on the back of his neck, boring into his skin with it's hatred and anger at his disloyalty. Technically, he hadn't been disloyal at all. He had fought for the emperor, he hadn't even leaked information to the enemy. He hadn't gotten attached to the opposite side. Hell, he hadn't even been given a second chance, or a third chance, or a multitude of undeserved chances, unlike Ren.
As his thoughts turned to his comrade, formal rival, and respected opponent, one that he could not summon hatred for but to whom could not deny resentment, Gill stopped walking. This was when Sid realized that they had reached a door, the door apparently to their destination. Part of him wondered if this was where they took Dan so often before he was moved away from them and to a different part of the building, but something in his gut told him this was a different door. Gill was far too indifferent; if this were the one where Dan was often tortured, surely he would have had a different reaction.
The bastard turned around, turning his focused gaze on the prisoner. He nodded to Airzel, and Sid felt hands on his forearms, then on his wrists, and a cold metal implement pressed against his human skin. Sid didn't allow himself to grimace as the knife cut through the plastic zip tie; he wouldn't allow Gill the satisfaction. He jerked his hands out of Airzel's grip forcefully, though, and shot the man a glare before adjusting his jacket, which had been displaced from his struggles against them.
"I take it you have a Bakugan with you?" Gill asked with disinterest.
"Huh?" Sid grunted, narrowing his eyes. Suddenly he was very aware of his new Bakugan, Pyrus Cobrakus, resting in his pocket, keeping wisely still and silent in the presence of these foes.
"Don't play dumb. We know you all have one; all of you except for Kuso," Gill insisted, folding his arms across his chest. "Relax," he smirked when Sid started to take a defensive stance, "we won't take it from you. I think you'll find you'll need it in the coming hour."
"What are you talking about?" Sid questioned suspiciously, itching for the cards that were concealed within his pants pocket.
"You'll see," Airzel growled.
Ah, you're ready? Kazarina's voice filtered through Sid's head smoothly, with a familiarity that felt just as warm as it did cold. The message was meant for only Airzel and Gill, Sid was sure, but either Kazarina didn't care if he was listening or she had slipped up. It was most likely that she just didn't care, because Kazarina never made mistakes, or so she insisted.
"Yes," Gill replied curtly, standing to the side. "You'd better not mess this up, Kazarina." It was odd, both hearing the words and feeling them ricochet within his head, but Sid ignored it. The more pressing issue manifested in Airzel's push, prompting him to approach the door that Gill had swiftly opened.
Much to Sid's surprise, he found he was unable to stop his momentum before he had stumbled through the doorway and into the blackness behind it.
For a moment, the light was allowed to linger, to cast a lengthened, distorted shadow of a tall, burly blond across what he realized was a large room, but then it was drawn back, cut off, and Sid was left in darkness.
He stumbled to a stop and turned back toward the door, his lip curling in irritation. Figures, he thought pessimistically. His hands curled into fists. They like darkness, don't they?
"What?" he called out angrily. "Trying to create another Ren? Because the 'locked in darkness' strategy sure seemed to backfire, wouldn't you say?" He wasn't sure exactly who he was talking to, or if there was anyone around to hear him at all, but he had a suspicion that they were watching him. Kazarina did like mind-tricks, after all, and darkness had many tricks up its sleeves of shadows.
His thoughts were interrupted, however, by an all too unexpected voice from the shadows. "Ren was useless. He had desires, foreign desires that don't belong to my Master." The feminine voice seemed to filter through his head in a way similar to the Gundalian's organic communication. It was both scratchy and smooth at the same time, muffled and clear, again, paradoxically, in the same instance. It was eerie, and the voice itself was familiar.
Sid grimaced as she spoke again. "He wanted freedom, a chance to be free of his emperor, someone he served only because he could give him freedom."
"Who's there?" Sid challenged, his fingers snaking into his pocket for his Pyrus Cobrakus. His eyes darted from left to right, searching, trying to peer through the impenetrable darkness. Unfortunately for him, though, his eyes did not want to adjust; despite the fact that as a Gundalian, and that he was used to far darker atmospheres than his Vestal and human companions.
"Me?" It was a scoff. She was arrogant. "I am someone that has not betrayed my master, my emperor. I made the right choice."
Those words were meant to sting, Sid knew, but he could find no remorse for his action. After all, he technically hadn't betrayed him. Now, he could deny that he wanted to.
"Heh," he grunted, feeling a wry smile creep up on his face. "You seem awfully sure that Barrodius isn't gonna turn on you. What's fueling that faith?"
"It's not faith." Now the girl was irritated. "Faith doesn't win battles, buddy."
"Whatever," Sid grunted. "Look, are you going to come out and face me or are we going to play guessing games for the next three hours?"
"My, my, aren't we eager for a fight? Is being cooped up in that hallway getting to you? Must be all that pent up testosterone."
"Quit flapping your gums already," Sid growled. "You're really irritating."
"Why thank you." Sid half wanted to hit himself in the head with a brick. She was annoying.
"Enough chit-chat, children," a cold, sly, feminine voice intervened. This time, it was on an intercom. Sid let out a slightly disinterested grunt of surprise at Kazarina's interjection, and then a single light cut through the darkness. Rather, the harsh spotlight a distance away from Sid flared to life, revealing a petite, elaborately clad girl. She stood with her arms pressed to her sides, shoulders impossibly relaxed beneath her cape. The distance was too great for Sid to make out any defining features, but he could tell her shirt was blue, and that she was wearing a white skirt, along with a cape. He thought he could make out a cloth covering the lower part of her face. Her hair was pulled behind a short white veil, if she had hair, and her boots reached her knees.
Her eyes were golden, that much was obvious. Sid hissed.
"What are you doing, Kazarina?" Sid challenged, all of a sudden extremely irritated. He looked around, guessing that they were watching from above, so that's where he directed his gaze. "You're sending some amateur to battle me? Please, Jesse is more threatening than she is."
"I beg to differ, Sid," Kazarina replied smoothly. "I think you'll find that she's far more powerful than she appears. This arena's about to get a little bright."
"You're in for a show that I believe you've already witnessed," Stoica's voice chimed in, sniggering with undisguised glee. Sid blinked.
"What are you talking about?" he grumbled, glancing around.
"Sssssid, be on your guard," Cobrakus hissed from Sid's hand. "Sssssomethingssss off about thisssss girl."
"Care to be a bit more specific?"
"Enough talking," the girl cried. "Since you're so keen to battle, why don't you show me what you're made of?" Sid rolled his eyes.
"What's with the sudden change of heart? Whatever, it's your funeral. At least this is something to do."
"Alright then!" Suddenly the girl was in the air, doing a backflip. Sid blinked in mild surprise, almost tempted to search for a comment, but then she came down as gravity seized hold of her. Her muscles molded from a taut, powerful ascending pose to a form intended to cushion her descent. Her legs bent, her body moved quickly, preparing to absorb the shock of impact.
There was something about her landing that seemed off, different from the many landings Sid had seen Lena execute during their joint training sessions.
It was hardly surprising when he thought about it. This girl really was just an amateur, just a hired-kidnapped-tool, hypnotized and manipulated into fighting for a misunderstood cause. Lena, although once very similar to this girl, had had the expertise and precision of a seasoned acrobat in each of her aerodynamic maneuvers, and each move of hers had been completely willing. This girl clearly lacked Lena's skill and mind, and when she landed she stumbled. Her ankle collapsed underneath her leg, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from her throat.
Sid didn't so much as blink as she straightened up, struggling to mask a grimace, but he did allow himself a smirk. Served her right for trying such a move so soon after, how did they put it, "waking up". The mindset of the hypnotized really was intriguing, but like the many times in the past when he had been attempted to be taught, Sid could hardly find himself caring.
There was a more important matter at hand, or, more obviously, in the hand of his opponent.
"I'll start! Gate card, set!"
The BakuMeter on Sid's wrist suddenly lit up, displaying a scene he was no stranger to. He ignored it's feeble light, however, instead focusing on the rectangle of yellow luminance that shot out from the place equidistant from both Brawlers. It extended not far past the girl's position, but it was gone before he could actually make out any other features that could be of use to him.
"Bakugan, brawl! Bakugan, stand! Rise, Haos Splight!"
The white Bakugan emerged with a roar, a roar that had absolutely no sentience left within it. Blunt arms tore through the air, missing the claws that resided within them. Large, golden tipped feet slammed into the ground with a resounding bang, and as Sid took in his off-white, demonic aura, the low rumble of a growl filled the air.
"A Splight, huh?" he murmured. "This is interesting..."
"I'm waiting," the brawler said impatiently, and her voice echoed and repeated itself a few times before fading, sounding almost like it was both spoken normally and hissed at the same time. Sid grimaced.
"Fine then," he growled. "Cobrakus!" His hand closed around the serpent Bakugan who had taken to floating by his side. "Bakugan, brawl! Bakugan stand! Pyrus Cobrakus!"
The snake slithered out of the fiery cylinder conjured by its deployment, illuminating the darkness with a bright orange glow. Bright orange markings shaped like ancient runes stood out on its back against deep red scales, each of which reflected the fire in similar ways to Rubanoid's. Cobrakus's underbelly was yellow, a bright, lively color, with ridges traveling horizontally below the steel collar fitted around its body and vertically above it. The metallic ring featured a blaster of some sort, perhaps a canon, along with four prongs that branched out to the side, making for an intimidating appearance. The snake had four fangs, two on the top of its mouth and two on the bottom. The two on the top stuck out, though, unlike the cobra after which said Bakugan was named. Its hood was bright red, featuring a bright white diamond at the top, where the pattern of flames that adorned the hood reached a vertex.
Cobrakus slithered dangerously along the ground, sizing up his opponent. His emerald eyes flashed, gleaming as the lights from the flames died out. His tail, which sported two metal spokes, flicked threateningly.
Sid smirked. "Time to get this party started."
To say the thrill of battle was intoxicating would not have done the feeling justice.
No-it was not merely intoxicating. That would be describing a drug, some chemical, something that was only temporary. Sure, battle was temporary, but it didn't leave the Brawler in withdrawal. Comparing the rush, the thrill, the sheer, raw power she felt when battling to something alcohol, marijuana, and other chemical substances could induce for mere hours at a time-that was a crime. It simply did not do it justice.
No. The rush of battle, that amazing, invigorating, wonderful feeling that came with battle... How could she describe it? How could she describe the feeling of her mind in alignment with that of another being? How could she describe the pulse pounding excitement, the rush of adrenaline that left her breathless but felt like heaven? Sure, it was a tiring ordeal, trying to channel your will through another being, but it left her mind comfortably relaxed. Pleasantly tired. Battle was like physical activity even though she herself did none-it left her with the same exhaustion she would have felt if she were in a physical fight.
Battle. It was a rush of adrenaline, yet not simply a flood of hormones. Again, just a bodily response, a release of chemicals to stimulate the fight-or-flight response in her brain; it just didn't do battle justice. It wasn't even close.
Nothing came close to describing it.
Battle was a thing of itself, indescribable. It was only understood by those who had experienced it, experienced its excitement, its aggression, its energy, its power.
That was the truth.
But something, deep in her subconscious, told her, whispered to her, that battle was more than even that.
Flames and light flashed before her, kindling huge bursts of brief heat across her cheeks. They would be warmed comfortably, almost to the point of being unpleasant but never lasting long enough to get there, and then the tongues of flame would be gone, and her cheeks would be startlingly cold. The muscles there would tighten up, shrinking away from the unwelcome chill, wondering where that thermal energy fled to. It was almost like turning away from a fireplace in winter, when she was snowed in at a rented cottage for the season. She could almost smell the scent of hot cocoa-real, rich, thick hot cocoa, not just the powdery crap that was sold on store shelves. She could almost hear the voice of her mother, a forgotten sound, one that had been suppressed by some cruel puppetmaster by the name of Kaza-
The thought faded, twisted away from her mind as she tried to decipher it. She grabbed for it, grappled with the threads of thought in her mind. It was a memory. She was beginning to remember! She had had a mother, they had had a life, and they had gone to escape it for however short a time in the blustery mountains-
But it couldn't be a memory-she had never seen snow. She had never left Displatis; Kazarina told her that. She had never seen the sunlight, much less snow. Logic took over her thinking. It was another one of those phantom images, ones that flitted away too soon and not quickly enough.
The phantom images that conjure treason, they haunted her.
Kazarina wasn't a cruel puppetmaster. Kazarina was cruel, yes, but cruel in a needed way. Kazarina needed to be cruel, so in that sense, she wasn't cruel at all.
She kept her in line with "cruelty." It was just discipline. Discipline that was needed, sometimes-oftentimes-deserved.
Bursts of hot and cold wind shot past her face, lifting the veils over her face and hair, but neither lifted far enough to reveal anything important. The darkness that surrounded her, that allowed her to mold into the complement of her element and become invisible, that's what protected her. That's what allowed her to fight this fiery serpent with cards and a creature that did her bidding based on mere thoughts.
The feeling was familiar, comforting, exhilarating. The adrenaline, the endorphins, all of it made for an amazing experience. She felt like she was home, safe, secure, and perfectly in alignment with her opponent and her weapon, her Bakugan, her friend. Her friend, who was crying out as power flooded his senses. Her friend, who was fighting hard, breathing hard, experiencing the same rush she was-
He was crying out. He was crying out in pain.
She was pushing her FRIEND to his limits.
What was she doing? Splight was a friend. Splight had feelings. She was hurting him.
The realization cut through her like a knife. A sudden, shooting pain seared across her temples, shocked her as though she had been tossed into a tank of liquid nitrogen. She jerked, suddenly, nauseous, and dropped to her knees. Her hands pressed as hard as they could-and still not hard enough-against the sides of her head, trying to block out this pain, these treasonous throughts, and voice filled her head. "Its not real!"
The voice was sharp, insistent. Commanding. Powerful.
"Splight has no feelings! Splight is a tool, a weapon at your displosal. IT HAS NO FEELINGS."
And then all the doubts vanished, and she was left on the ground, panting, gasping, and wondering where such a stupid idea had come from.
Bakugan weren't sentient. The very idea was preposterous! Bakugan were just tools, weapons as her disposal. That's why their minds interacted the way they did-the Brawler was the master, the one in charge. The one that called the shots. The Bakugan was just there to do her bidding, to follow her commands. To suggest anything else was delusional.
Nothing else made sense.
She lifted her gaze as she felt his. Her opponent was watching her with a look of something like hope-horrible, deceptive hope. He had a half-grin, a daring look, on his face, one of anticipation and excitement. He was moving in slow motion, a card in his hand glowing as he shouted out, "Ability, activate!" with impossible slowness.
That was when she realized Splight was on the ground, clutching his head the same way she had been, and she screamed at him the horrible, merciless command, "Get up!"
He had no feelings. He was just a tool. He was not tired. He existed to do what she commanded.
Losing wasn't an option, it wasn't! She had to prove herself-she had to. She had to prove she was as good as Mistress Sellon, as good as Master Anubias, good enough to fight and make a difference.
Good enough to fight their high security prisoner.
She moved just as quickly as Splight did, rising to her feet was impossible swiftness. That speed could only be reached by the embodiment of light itself. A card flashed above her Baku-Collar, shining to life as she cried out the defensive maneuver. Splight moved to execute it with a grace that rivaled that of Sellon, and the opponents brief look of hope turned to one of terror, of horror, of disbelief, of despair as his mouth moved.
And to Rin, that feeling of domination-it was amazing.
To say Sid got beaten would have been the merciful, least humiliating way to put the defeat.
To say that he had gotten his ass whooped, thrown into the week past and beaten up for three weeks straight would have been a far more accurate way of describing it.
That loss had been completely and utterly humiliating. Pathetic. Absolutely demoralizing.
And the girl had, predictably, seized the first opportunity to rub it in his face. As he looked up at her from the ground, it was plain to see that she would continue to press his face into the mud of embarrassment at every chance she received.
But there had been this one instance where he thought he might win; a brief moment when her attention slipped, a blank look came over her face, and her eyes flashed green. They had exchanged almost no words once the fight started, instead allowing the dance of battle to lead the both of them. Sid spent almost all of his time defending, struggling futilely to preserve his ego and keep pain from Cobrakus, while she hurled attack after attack at his defenses. She only paused to ask him one question, one that was strange and unexpected.
"Why do you fight?"
But other than that, she just hit, slashed, clawed at Cobrakus, leaving no openings, until that one moment when she stumbled.
He saw it, that brief glint of humanity behind her mask. He saw that look of surprise, of terror, of confusion, all before she dropped like a rock. All of a sudden the tide of battle changed. He could win, this was his chance! She was down-Splight had fallen just like she had.
Both were breaking free, they were resisting.
"Gate card, open!"
Something whispered to him that it was strange, how actively they were fighting Kazarina even as they fought himself, for rarely was there a battler with that tenacity. He was sure that there was one Gundalian legend that had once had that power, the ability to resist the influence of a Hypnosis Master, but, like most of his peers, he had never paid attention in history class. So the thought fizzled out before he had time to decipher it, replaced by the tugging at his mind that was Cobrakus urging him to activate an ability.
If this hit, they would be free!
But then she looked up, her eyes gleaming gold in the light of flames that were conjured from his Gate Card. His hope was snuffed out like those flames as horror flashed across both their faces. He knew that look, he had seen it himself although not in person, and he knew her name.
"Runo?"
But she couldn't hear him; maybe she didn't want to, maybe they were too far away. Because after that, all he could remember was darkness.
Hm... I didn't expect to write this chapter in this particular format... I've been reading way too many fanfictions that take place entirely in a character's mind. Although I actually think that's helping me at the moment...
Sorry about the lack of updates; I'm still recovering from these past few months. I am writing though, I AM still thinking of you guys. Thank you so much to everyone who has favorited this and followed, and of course, all you lovely reviewers.
Things just get darker and darker here, don't they?
Review!