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The Iron Sun

He who loved, he who wanted to give the world to the woman who could never bear his children. He sought to build a child for her from the fire of his love but he was no god.

1 · 86 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by AugmentationAudit

Description

An odd contradiction of a man, for inside and outside are vastly different things.
He is off a good height and weight with golden brown skin and redish-blond hair that falls in ringlets around his face. His eyes are yellow, though they were blue at the time of his birth.
There is something a little too perfect about his appearance, an almost robotic precision about his movements at times, and perhaps there is sometimes a shimmer of silver where silver should not be, but such things are surely just at trick of the light.

Personality

Unpredictable, though in public far different than his base nature. His inelegance is astounding but as is his eccentricity. He was once a loving and compassionate man, though now compassion seems like a dangerous thing when coming from his lips; somehow false, somehow wrong.

Equipment

A mechanical tool kit and the medical paraphernalia of a doctor.

History

A man who became a doctor; it was his passion. He specialised in bio-mechanics and was fascinated by the concept of augmentation of a damaged body and the latest robotic prosthesis. It became his life, and his talent; breakthroughs were made. A genius, certainly, he was given a grounding by a fellow scientist who he later married. After years together without a successful attempt at producing a child tests confirmed that it would never be so, despite both of their longing.
He knew that his wife was unhappy and looked to find a way to make her a child if they could not create one together as God intended, but God alone it would seem could create life from nothingness; all of his experiments failed. Finally, he tried a different theory: augmenting a pre-existing human being. He was successful, and it was a start; he dreamed of learning how to increase such augmentations until there was nothing but flesh of his own creation, his own cybernetic being.
Sadly, his wife became ill long before his experiments bore fruit, and frantically he turned his efforts towards curing her, becoming increasingly immoral the more desperate he became. By the time of her death there was little left of the man that had loved so much and devoted his life to such a good cause; only the dregs of insanity and obsession remained.
He continued his experimentation because he had nothing left, partially in the hopes that he would succeed (though he had nothing left to win, already much too late to save the woman he loved) and partially in the hope that he would fail and prove that it was not his own fault that he couldn't save her, that it simply couldn't be done.
He began to hate the God he had once tried to best, what was some strange competition between scientist and deity morphing into a twisted hate campaign. He builds what can only be called an army of twisted, augmented creatures to wage war on God, subconsciously sabotaging himself even as he seeks perfection; a sign that his mind is so broken that the pieces have turned to dust and blown away with his wife's ashes.

-it is ironic, perhaps, that a man who wanted nothing more than to heal the world caused an atrocity that came close to annihilating everything he had once fought for, that humanity was forced to protect itself from the one who called himself the sun, hiding in the darkness until the day that he withered away into nothingness, taking his army with him.
More ironic still is the fact that his research spawned the first creatures created solely by science; creatures that were said to be a force for good and good alone.

So begins...

The Iron Sun's Story

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The Iron Sun was prompt in answering when he was called for, though it became apparent after the phone was answered that it wasn't actually the elusive Doctor Sol on the end of the line. 'Yes?' rang down the line, a robotic voice rather than something that could be identified as belonging to a man. 'What is required?' It was very possibly just an answering machine of some sort, because no human being could have such a voice.

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'Please explain in greater detail how the organisation of the Iron Sun can be of assistance.' the voice responded, sounding as if it was really responding rather than jut playing some form of automated message. 'Please describe the nature of the condition of the individual in question.'

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'Please remain on the line.' There was a click as the line disconnected and then reconnected elsewhere. A second voice answered, this one most certainly human. "Explain to me the condition of the man in question in detail," there was a flicker of interest in the tone, though it was carefully controlled.

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"There really is no need to worry; I can do the most miraculous things even after The Event, although, in this specific case- I will be with you presently. If possible, please keep Mr Vilio alive." It was unclear how the man on the end of the telephone knew the name that he had not yet been told, though it certainly backed up the ommipotant image that he seemed to strive for.

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The Iron Sun arrived as promptly as he had promised; a tall man dressed in a doctor's scrubs and rubber shoes covered with a white coat that was secured against his neck with one long, golden brown hand. Keen yellow eyes flicked around the room in shuttered interest before he disregarded the patrons in the room and swept up the stairs.

He let himself in without knocking, already reaching into his bag. "You can leave, my dear; I will handle things from now on, however, if there is some form of payment you require, or if you would like to remain outside..."

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The Iron Sun was already putting on gloves, a surgical gown, more gloves, and setting out line after line of alarming looking instruments before he so much as examined his patient. "Then you may remain outside," he told her without looking around, still arranging himself for what was to come. "Your habit can be tended to at my facility, whether you decide to continue or be assisted in stopping; it is unimportant, so long as you remain. Are you loyal to this man, or is there something that you require that will make you leave?"

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"He will hardly be alone, nor do I intend for him to die; he is a far more interesting study of my competitors' geno-augmentation as a living, breathing specimen." he informed her with feeling as he crossed the room and settled on his knees beside the bed. "Curious, did you remove his garments?" It would be no small irritation to carry the girl should she become infected, but she showed some minimal promise that he might take advantage of. "And it is only right to inform you that you may not wish to watch this."

The needle he selected and fitted to a syringe was blunted at the tip, used only to extract the contents of an ampoule. A fresh needle and another sample was added to the syringe and shaken before a thick, sharp needle was fitted. He set the loaded syringe aside before moving to take several blood and tissue samples before he actively began.

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The Iron Sun continued with his preparations, gathering samples, before taking up his syringe. "I will be sure to have him contact you when he wakes, unless you would rather wait outside and then accompany us once I have completed my initial treatment. Recovery- will be a long process, to say the least, so you will likely end up at my facility anyway."

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The Iron Sun picked up the phone on the third ring, his voice crystal clear with no background noise what so ever. "Good morning, young lady."

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The Iron Sun could be heard to sigh when the sounds of an obnoxious voice, the rush of wind, and then a clatter presented themselves to him. He terminated the call, coming to the conclusion that he would have to deal with the amassed idiocy of Gambit's bar in person if he wanted to converse, because clearly phones were in some way violating the ridiculous social code the establishment seemed to operate under.

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The Iron Sun sat at the bar counter with a look of quiet amusement on his strange face, though he appeared to be seeing something totally different to the happenings of some small time bar as he blinked amber eyes.

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The Iron Sun slowly extracted some form of quasi-medical tool kit from inside his pocket and laid it out on the counter. He then proceeded with slow and deliberate purpose to open his arm as though it were made of something other than flesh (which it most certainly was) and pick out the mechanics that were stowed inside.

For reasons known only to himself he laid them all out carefully on a sterile cloth.

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The Iron Sun took a long, hard look at what had been going on while he oiled his parts and shook his head; some creatures, it would seem, were as mentally deficient as they were loud. Given time, he would purge such beings from his prefect world.

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The Iron Sun made his way into the room as if the entire establishment belonged to him, his head held in such a way that he didn't have to look at the patrons. He kept his hands folded neatly at his back, unwilling to touch anything for fear of contamination; the place was distastefully unclean, and yet- the softest sound of irritation escaped his lips as he installed himself at the bar. He did not order a drink, nor did he want one.

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The Iron Sun very, very slowly turned to face the ridiculous looking creature that had deigned to speak to him. To being the operative word, for Sol would never speak with such a being. At, possibly, but not to. Never to. He very nearly heaved a weary sigh, but he managed to restrain himself.

"Is there something you required, or are you simply so gratified by the sound of your own voice that you feel compelled to speak?" he asked, voice soft and emotionless; the vitriol was at his core, and he wouldn't spill it for small-fry.

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The Iron Sun drew in a deep, deep breath. Held it. Let it out. Some creatures, he decided, favoured volume over good sense. Others favoured volume and idiocy over self-preservation. This creature was obviously the most chronic mixture of the two.

"I am beginning to believe that you are suffering from some form of mental retardation, however, this does not excuse such rude behaviour. I suggest that you control yourself, or one day you may happen across a creature less... forgiving than I."

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The Iron Sun repeated his earlier breathing procedure, a single hand lifted to cover his eyes as he did so. Why his agent had to come to such a place he did not know; it was filthy and clearly favoured by the absolute dregs of the lowest tier of society. He found himself tempted to deactivate said agent simply because of this factor.

He would give it a little thought, perhaps. With that in mind, he took a seat for himself and attempted to ignore the festering activity of the lower classes. If he looked the other way it was possible that they would vanish from his perfect world.

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The Iron Sun slipped into the room through the side door, looking about as nondescript as a man of his stature could look in a sparsely populated room. His hair was tied up into a tail, his clothing well fitted but worn; soft and old to help him blend in with the crowd. There was no hiding his distinctive facial structure, but the fact that he was in a bar at all was more than enough protection. He sat at a table by the window, waiting.

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The Iron Sun wouldn't turn to face the woman talking of the Sun and his Moon, though it was obvious by the tension in his shoulders and the way he pointedly did not look that he was aware of her presence. He listened, his face beautiful but a mask; there was no outward reaction to her words for quite some time, but she appeared to be waiting and at last he spoke in a voice to match his own.

"The Moon is ashes and dust," he mimicked, still gazing out of the window rather than at the woman watching him, though her reflection was superimposed over his own in the imperfect mirror of the glass. "Dead, but her Eclipse still walks the Heavens, a specter from the Shades' Court, to haunt the Sun in his solitude."

There was a smile curling the edges of his lips, but it was as false as that which it mirrored. "The Shades' Moon laughs from her place in the Heavens, but she is little but the darkness in the absence of Sol's light. There is no substance to her, no soul. She is the absence of the Moon, rather than a Celestial being, and if the Sun was to turn his light upon her..."

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The Iron Sun almost turned to look, then, in a manner that spoke of excising demons, such was the passion and fury on his face. But after an extended moment of apparent indecision he relaxed just a fraction; it was clear that he was in some way unable to turn around and face her. His voice, however, kept all of his ardent fury.

"There can be no life without the Sun." he spat, not loud, but deeply passionate. His shoulders were tense, neck a sharp column of corded muscles, emotion of an unknown definition thickly coating both his body and his words.

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The Iron Sun turned away from the window then, but he didn't look at her. His face was still the perfect mask of before, his lack of response suggestive that she could be perfectly right in her assumptions. He sighed, but the action was so precise that it seemed almost mechanical; the Iron heart of Sol, he honestly believed himself to be a machine.

He rose, but didn't move to leave, instead he stood facing the glass so that his body blotted out her reflection. "And what of the White Dwarf?" he asked at length, a tinge of thoughtfulness creeping into his tone. "What of Sol's White Dwarf and what say you of this, Shades' Moon?" It was the first time that he had acknowledged her presence directly, but he gave it little ceremony, as if she was hardly worth that much.

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The Iron Sun narrowed his eyes a fraction at such talk, and for the barest fraction of a second his face looked close to human as he repressed a scowl. She was toying with him, or had simply been created in such a manner that she was unable to give a straight answer; only speak in myths and rhetoric. For a moment, he cared about which, about how she was made, who had done such a thing, but then the shielding of his iron heart descended once more and he was Sol, burning and forever alone.

"He thinks the Shades know more than they would ever admit to. The Sun is light, they are shadow; if he possesses knowledge, the power to illuminate, then they are the secrets well hidden in the darkness. But there is no place that his light does not touch, and if they are concealing that which is his in their darkness..." There was a subtle threat in his words.

"Sol's White Dwarf is not a thing that falls under the reign of the moon, or even of God, so it would be wise if his legacy returned to its proper place."

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"Perhaps," Sol's voice was cold as he moved towards the door, clearly aiming to leave and be rid of her. "But one must wonder what condition such things will be in when they finally come around again. That which orbits Sol: a vast category, and those that fall into an elliptical orbit, those that are close for a time and then vanish into the darkness of the Shades' Court. Well, is it any wonder that they return after the longest time changed by the shadows of empty space?"

He laughed, but the sound was just a little too beautiful to be real (like the Moon in her entirety). "But she is right: all things orbit the Sun, and none can be free of him." There was a smile on his face as he left, but the expression was dangerous rather than pleasant.

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The Iron Sun wasn't unaccustomed to associating with the veritable dregs of humanity, but familiarity with the practice made it no more bearable, he had found. It was wearying, to exist among such trivially proud degenerates, and yet on occasion needs must, and Sol was not one to shirk his duty, even when said duty came at such a maddening cost. He truly had no desire to socialize with these people, but for the sake of his cause he would prevail.

With that in mind he swept through the frankly unwashed looking establishment with purpose, an attractive (if unsettling) gentleman dressed in brown and orange, dark blond ringlets tied loosely into a tail, and took at seat for himself at the counter. He wouldn't drink for fear of contracting something that even his significant prowess was powerless to best, but he was set to make a show of it. He ordered a glass of wine and settled back to watch the comings and goings of the room's patrons.

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The Iron Sun found himself rather fascinated with the young woman that had chosen to sit close to him at the bar counter. She was very obviously broken in a way that he hadn't seen in quite some time (her type was to be eradicated by his ambition), and as such she was a viable subject to study. His opportunities for such research were sadly lacking, given the current climate, but Sol was hopeful that she would be receptive.

"Good evening. Would you object to my getting you a drink, ma'am?" he asked, his voice the very picture of cultured geniality. "Only I've found myself rather at a disadvantage here, and quite unfortunately alone, so- I would be honored if you would allow me to get you something, if only to sooth my battered pride."

Sol's self-deprecating chuckle was a work of art. "Being stood up by one's company for the evening truly is mortifying..."