Earth, 2001. North Western Russia
A tower atop the wastelands.
Bum Bump...
Bum Bump...
Bum Bump...
Each second Pyotr was reminded that he did in fact own a heart, and was a human being behind the mask that concealed him from those he had lied to. Lies that enabled both him and his partner to get where the had to be.
It was for the greater good, he constantly spewed around inside of his brain, trying desperately to subdue the feelings of guilt that have long since enveloped him when the very first of his comrades were killed.
"I drugged them, UV."
<:: I know. ::> A robotic voice replied from the floor of the elevator. The small black machine couldn't fly while the metallic chamber rose at an incredible speed, and didn't bother to move a single servo. <:: Humans tend to value their lives enough
not to throw themselves in front of a bullet, Pyotr. ::>
Pyotr could do nothing but look at the ground in shame, and this brought his attention to the rifle in his arms, and that rifle also reminded him exactly
what he was doing. He raised it towards the doors of the elevator that would slide open any minute now, leaving both him and UV almost completely exposed to the guar- Nevermind, they were opening
now.
Several deafening POK sounds resonated through the chamber into the wide room it had opened into. These shots fired from Pyotr's weapon hit their marks -- the heads of some that had been ordered to clamp down the lab housing
the machine. It resided in the very center of the room, with massive segmented hoses and wires hung from the ceiling digging into the glowing metal structure it was. Pyotr kicked UV out from behind of the now open elevator door, and he himself took cover behind the opposing small bit of cover that the inside of it had. It protected him from the many chunks of lead that were flying at the two, each one with an insatiable bloodlust.
Peeking out from behind the wall again with his rifle in front of him, Pyotr took several more shots, at least getting some wounds into the 'men' before the
alarm rang. It was
loud. Louder than his gun, so loud that he wished he could cover the ears beneath his helmet.
<:: We need to go
now, you fool. They will close the elevators. ::>
Just as the robot said this -- still on the floor, by the way -- a grenade Pyotr identified as a fog canister was thrown into the chamber both he and UV were taking cover in. The gas emitted from it was not only nightmarishly lethal, it's formulated to coat the glass ports of gas masks with a thick blurring agent that would render them nearly useless. Pyotr grabbed UV by the antenna and dove out of the chamber, sensing bullets plinking off of the metal floor around him before he could scramble up against a recently decommissioned barricade.
Swinging around on his heels and rising to his feet, Pyotr fired back.
Hit.
Hit.
...
Miss.
Hit.
"AAHGHCF" Pyotr screamed in pain as a bullet hit him directly upon the chest -- his heart. That sick, lying heart that would have been reduced to mush had Pyotr not been wearing his vest. Falling backwards, Pyotr was safe from the successive volley of bullets from the last man standing. Grabbing at the affected area with his massive, gloved hand, Pyotr sucked in air as he picked his rifle up from the cold, nearby ground. He coughed into his mask, and inhaled loudly as he attempted to move to another barricade, remaining low.
Rising up again, he dumped what was left of his magazine towards the man who would have killed him had he been playing fair.
They were all dead now. UV was apparently able to sense this before rising from the ground, his thrusters groaning to life. He sailed through the air to the control panel of what appeared to be most of the facility below the two left in the room, along with the massive
machine present as well.
"Stop all the fucking elevators!" Pyotr commanded, looking to the several other sliding doors present in the room. "Just close everything!"
If UV could scowl, he would have done it. He also would have taken his sweet ass time taking over the facility if he himself weren't in danger as well. <:: You wanna fucking try using this board,
comrade? ::>
Deeply laughing/coughing, Pyotr had found himself across the room, searching the bodies for a magazine that would fit his nearly ten year old rifle. UV looked back down to the control panel, seeming to temporarily force himself to forget Pyotr ever existed.
A loud cheer from the man made this paradise short lived for him.
<:: The facility is under my control, but it won't be for long. I will detonate the warheads now. ::>
"
What?! I thought we were going to use the teleporter?"
UV paused, his eye closing for a moment. He turned to face Pyotr, who was standing above the bodies of three men, gloves covered in blood. <:: You are really going to stoop that low? Not even
I am going to let myself live after what
you've committed. ::>
"Alright then, lemme use the control panel then, fucker!" Pyotr shouted, beginning to walk over, pushing UV away from above the panel.
<:: Ahh, just let me do it, you ass! You'd probably
somehow figure out how to do some stupid shit despite all I've done to this place already. ::>
Pyotr stepped back, folding his arms behind his back. "We turn on the teleporter, activate the warheads, then you and I step through the field."
<:: Yep... Everything's ready. Go now. ::> As the machine says this, it turns around to face the teleporter. Both subjects approach the abomination of metals and strange glowing substances cautiously as a large, torrential explosion of deep purple and electricity fills the room. Both Pyotr and UV are sucked in before it closes shortly after. The room is silent, save for a soft:
Beep...
Beep...
Beep...
Nothing.
___________________________________________________________________________
Purple.
Everything is purple. Shades of purple, It's all that can be seen. A cloud of darkly colored dust rushed past Pyotr, barraging his suit until he entered a long 'tunnel' where the nearest blob of churning purple granules was at least 40 meters from him.
Then a foreign silence.
Pyotr was still moving at the same astounding velocity, it seemed, but there was no noise save for his trained breaths. It appeared that he was in a vacuum.
The inside of Pyotr's helmet beeped monotonously:
- - - . . - - -
O2. The suit had detected no oxygen in the area around itself and had begun tapping into its reserve. Three weeks of liquid oxygen remained in Pyotr's pack.
Pressing his thumb on the top of his middle finger, a muffled
click resonated through the rubber composing his suit.
"UV, do you read me?"
Releasing the button on his finger, he listened.
HssssssSSssssSssssssSSSSsSssSSssssssss...
Pressing the button once more, he repeated, a little more clear into the microphone:
"UV,
do you read?"
Pyotr waited a moment to release the button this time, taking a quick breath into his lungs and holding it.
sSSssssssssssssssSSSSSssssssssssssssssss...
Pyotr released his lungs, and the hissing continued for several minutes before Pyotr got used to the sound. The minutes ticked on, but Pyotr had no way of keeping track of time -- all he saw were the clouds. It was honestly quite comfortable, floating in space with no weight on his exhausted legs and spine, to the point where Pyotr began to doze off with the hissing of his radio and the various mechanical sounds the pack attached to him made.
A voice spoke to the scientist, clear as day, snapping Pyotr to full consciousness with a jerk of every muscle. The hissing cut out, just as it had before.
"UV, I read you loud and clear. Are you okay?"
The button was unpressed immediately.
ssssSsssssssssssssssssSSsSSSSSSsssSSsssss...
Waiting for a reply, he blinked.
"UV?"
The hissing prevailed, leaving Pyotr alone in the clouded void, arms and legs bent slightly as he sped through the tunnel at an incredibly high speed.
He gently shook his head, closing his eyes. Opening them, he was clearly growing impatient just as he was flung into a wall of dust. This caused Pyotr to flinch, momentarily forgetting that the material was simply floating dust. It took a moment to burst out back into an identical tunnel as before, and Pyotr's eyes grew heavy while his mind grew still.
"You're a child!"
He was jolted awake the same as before.
Looking around frantically, Pyotr had moved to press the radio talk button, but hesitated, listening to the gentle hiss his radio constantly outputted.
Pyotr closed his eyes, and found himself pinned to the cold, snow blanketed ground by two adolescents on both his left and right. Pyotr's young, fat face scrunched up as a snowball was thrown at his face, and watched through squinted eyes as another figure reached down to form another chunk of snow.
Jerking back to reality with bulging eyes and a sudden, particularly unflattering gasp, Pyotr's blood was racing as he was nearly certain he could feel the snow melting off of his face underneath his mask. Raising his arms to claw at the rubber and glass that covered his head, he pulled at his suit, growling in frustration while his breaths grew heavy. He could hear the mocking voices of the teenagers, he had to wipe the snow off his face but he just couldn't free his arms from their grasp.
"You're a weak, worthless bitch of a boy!" The voice screamed down at him.
"STOP!" Pyotr shouted into his mask with closed eyes, and everything grew quiet once again. The snow was gone, as if it were never there. All Pyotr could hear was his own raspy wheezes, and the hiss of his radio. That
damn radio.
"UV, do you read me?"
sssssSsssssssSSSSssssSSssssssssssssSSSSSss...
Suspended seemingly motionless in the center of the tunnel for what seemed like an hour now, Pyotr slowly began to doze off, hypnotized by the clouds moving past him. His eyelids grew heavy.
"You're like a girl! A worthless, dick sucking whore!"
Instead of opening his eyes, they remained screwed shut, Pyotr afraid of what he might see.
Dozens of deep laughs echoed around him. The voice was in Pyotr's ears. He could feel the warmth of his breath as he whispered: "I'm gonna make you the girl you are."
Pyotr opened his eyes, screaming in a primal fight response when he saw a face just beyond his visor. The eyes were too sunken to see as it raised a large, bloody knife into view of the visor, tapping it against the glass. Pyotr never stopped screaming, and closed his eyes to find another pile of snow thrown in his face.
"Go down there!"
"I need my son!"
"Get into the fucking bunker!"
"LET ME GO!" Pyotr screamed, lashing out at the void.
Multiple explosions rained around Pyotr's head, deafening him to nothing but his own voice as the teenagers' monstrous laughs decayed into screams. Screams of a dying woman. He could hear his name being called by a familiar voice, but he could not reach for it; he was trapped.
Hyperventilating, Pyotr's bugging eyes darted around at the purple clouds encircling him. He began pulling at whatever on his suit he could grab.
"I'm in here! Let me- I'm
over here! Get-" Pyotr wailed, banging on the side of his helmet with his palm. Whatever words he attempted to say after that just diluted into incoherent babbles as tears began developing in his eyes.
"Look at how fucking
small it is!"
He screamed louder.
The world around him boomed with atomic shockwaves and gunfire. He could smell the coarse iron scent of blood as well as gunpowder in the air.
Pyotr screamed into his radio, managing to yell "UV!" between exclamations of gibberish.
He could no longer yell, his voice reduced to pained squeaks as he began fading into subconscious.
He found himself in a dark, cold room with blood running down his inner thighs, unable to move or look around. Before him a door slid open, revealing a large man with a massive backpack whose face glowed with a blue tint. He raised his weapon and fired a shot directly into Pyotr's head -- he could feel it go through everything, and he would have responded if he had time before the following discharges lead him to awaken flailing around in the purple void, the concept of 'up' no longer having any meaning.
In his chaotic spasms, Pyotr's grip tightens on the rifle fastened to his bag. He brought it in front of himself, instinctively turned off the safety while chambering a round, and aimed it at the center of his own mask.
______________________________________________________________________________
Earth, 2153. South Western Japan.
For those near the center of Arcadia, they would notice a strange, purple flash of light roughly 9 feet off the ground followed by a
PIINGGgggg sound that reverberated around the entire school and slightly beyond. After several moments of eerie silence, it was violently interrupted by multiple arcs of electricity and purple dust bursting out of the same area the flash came from.
After several moments of mayhem, it only grew worse. Seeming to pull any sort of energy it could from the environment, the opening rift was hit by multiple strikes of lightning as it was pulled open to roughly resemble the shape of a vertically balanced bus, showing rushing purple clouds beyond the dust that was being blown out.
Before Pyotr could take the shot to end his life, light was already encompassing him as gravity once again had its grips on Pyotr. He was pulled to the concrete and skidded on his knee and elbow pads for a moment before coming to a stop. Catching his breath, He let out an entirely inhuman, muffled scream from behind his mask as he looked up, shouldering his rifle, and firing his weapon blindly into the gathering crowd before him.
