Worn Out Cogs (M)

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Worn Out Cogs (M)

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Moonscar on Fri Jun 15, 2012 12:33 pm

A quick word: Though the events here do not happen on Terra or anywhere currently in the MV, the events do have very much to do with a group affiliated within the MV, and will affect MV events. This is why I have decided to place this here.


Chapter One: Tora the Tornado

Everything just went to shit.

Ever since the time and space portal got them here, the whole underground was ruined, and there were mutants and radiated spilling in from a nearby old subway. It was closed off to everyone. Naria had abandoned the portal after they watched Kalil and Connor vanish through. They could go. They could go back to Wing City and live and the rest of them couldn’t.

“That’s complete bull! Why shouldn’t we of been able to go? It’s our home! We built a city! No one wants to stay here! Why? It’s not fair!” Tora spat onto the ground, throwing down the Combatant badge she had been given by Grennel.

“Tora, it would have upset the balance. We cannot risk seeing ourselves in Wing City. The only thing we can do is hope that we won’t make the same mistake again.” Naria, the cyborg, the prime hacker of Gadget, spoke calmly, standing up with one eye and a mechanical lens peering up to the woman with the wild, colorful plethora of hair. “So we have to deal with what we have here. You did not expect it to last forever, did you?”

“I did! I did, because you all assured us that everything was going to be okay!”

“And everything is okay!”

“Like hell! Half our gang is dead already, and we’ve only been here three hours! You call that okay?”

Naria sighed, “Listen, Tora-”

“No! I’m not listening to your shit anymore!”

The lead Combatant stomped out, mounting her blue hoverbike and taking off. She had tears in her eyes, and her teeth were gritted. How could she. How could she not save them, when she had the perfect chance?

She flew to the highest skyscraper, landing next to the neon Radiation Meter, which had one bar lit on the bottom. Whenever the wind picked up, a second would flicker on, then die. Over and over again. Tora pulled out her plasma rifle, aiming it into the distance, down the ruined road of New York Sanctuary.

“Pft. What kind of fuckin’ sanctuary is this? More like New York Hell.” she spat, looking through the scope. A single person walked down it, gasmask on their face, coat tails whipping in the wind.

“Say goodbye, Scraper...” she mumbled, finger on the trigger.

“If only you knew.” A voice carried from behind her, the sound of coattails whipping in the wind accompanying the deepset voice. A thin, brown-haired man dressed in a tuxedo of all things wandered behind her, in his hand a lit cigarette. “Scraper being some kind of derogatory term? I haven’t heard this dialect before. Where are you from, you rebellious young thing?”

His footsteps approached her slowly, his free hand in his jacket pocket, making a fist.

The woman whipped around, aiming her plasma rifle right at his face. “Who the hell are you!?” she cried, finger twitchy on the trigger. “What the hell do you want? Don’t come close! I’ll shoot, I swear! I won’t hesitate to blow your fuckin’ head off!” She took a step back, fearfully. Never before had the woman been known to retreat even an inch, as bad as things became. Today, however, something different shone in her eyes. Not the youthful bravery or gleeful brashness of the old days. Ten years had passed since then. Ten years that haunted her.

“I believe you, Tora.” He continued, halting away from her. “Tora-Nado - isn’t that what they call you? You weren’t born here. You don’t belong here. You were sent back here. You and the rest of that gang. I understand, Tora. I know your hatred of these wastes, and really; who wouldn’t hate them? That’s why you guys fly; to soar above your troubles, stay well away from the earthly boundaries.”

He took a drag, letting the smoke pour from his teeth and into the open air. “Don’t worry, though - I’m here now. So talk to me. What has you wishing that that poor scraper meets his maker? Haven’t you had enough killing? Killing that your friends know nothing about?”

Tora took yet another step back. Her green lips fell open. “I don’t...I don’t...know what the fuck you’re talkin’ bout, man. I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull, but you’re doing it with the wrong girl! Get back!” She took a step forward this time, jabbing the gun at him. “Hell if I know if the guy is a Scraper or not! Hell if I care! They come close to here and they’re dead. Same as you, buddy! Explain yourself!”

Despite her harsh words, her commanding tone, Tora shook. How did he know? How could he have found out? She made sure no one would know!

“I don’t need to explain anything, Tora. Because you die here.” He said it without malice, without anger. It was a simple fact; like the sun setting in the evening. From his pocket he pulled a long, red towel, that was soaked in some kind of fluid. He wrapped it around his hand slowly, puffing at his cigarette.

“I’ve read your future, and your blood will be on my hands. It won’t do much to comfort those that you’ve slain, but I’ll give it a shot. Do yourself a favour; die with honor. Maybe you can have a shred of dignity before you go.”
Tora could hardly speak. The words, “You die here,” shot through her like a bullet. She almost looked down to make sure that was exactly what had not happened. Not yet. No.

“Better try harder, buddy, because my future ain’t here yet! I’ve got a long way to go!” With that, she aimed the plasma rifle at his chest, pulled the trigger as fast as she could, knowing it would hit. This creep. Who the hell did he think he was?

The plasma ripped through the man in the tuxedo, the cigarette flying forwards as he sank to his knees, a wide-eyed expression on his face as blood trickled out the side of his mouth. His stomach bottomed through the hole in his midsection, a piece of fleshy pink amidst the sudden green and red. He gurgled once, and then fell over, curled in the fetal position, drooling dark crimson.

Tora stood over him with a smug grin. “That’s what you get!” she chirped, pointing at him, “That’s what you fuckin’ get! You can’t kill me! You can’t kill me![/i’] I’m the Tornado. [i]I decide when I stop.” She turned around, ready to board her bike, leaving him there to bleed.

“Fucker. Maybe you’ll bleed out before a mutant gets to you. You better hope.”

Before she did, however, a pair of hands shot out to grasp at her ankles, anchoring her to the ground. As they did so, the man suddenly appeared in front of her, slamming his elbow into her jaw, toppling her backwards and over the soon-to-be corpse that was curled behind her, acting as a tripping hazard. In his hand, the red towel dangled, dripping a yellowish substance to the floor.

Tora clasped her mouth with one hand, eyes squeezed shut from the pain. As she opened them, she saw the corpse on the ground, yelling out in disgust and surprise as she backed away. “What the fuck.” She looked up, seeing him in front of her bike. She looked down, seeing him crippled on the ground.

“What the fuck. Who are you? Why are you trying to do this? Are you with the Redcoats? Scrapers? The government? Always trying to snuff us out!” She tried to get onto her feet, looking for her Tesla pistol. “Stay the hell away!”

The man pounced, kicking the pistol away as he did so, and raised a shined-shoe high in the air, bringing it down towards the woman’s head. As he fired off the blow, another tuxedoed man ran up to the woman’s side, aiming a kick at her ribs. A third came towards her legs and tackled them, pinning them to the rooftop.

Where there was once assailant, now there was three, and each of them fought with a viciousness.

Tora spat, barely able to cry out as the foot smashed her face into the cement. Her mind whirled, and her world became nothing but pain as she was kicked, pinned, and surrounded. Nowhere to go. No weapons to use. She had just put a hole in a man’s gut just how. How was she the one losing?

She rose a hand, searching for the man’s ankle, grasping it, sobbing. Trying to beg for her life.

A hand wrenched hers away from the ankle, spread her arms just as her legs were held down. While she was opening her mouth to beg, however, the red towel was jammed into her mouth, the stench and taste of gasoline filling the air around them.

“Ironic, being murdered by obsolete tech.” came the man who was standing, one boot on either side of her, his face inches from hers as he shoved the towel deeper into her throat, inch by inch. “You probably think this is an odd way to die; being fed a towel with the slightest hint of gas, waiting for your stomach to start digesting it. The body doesn’t like terrycloth; instead of breaking it down, it latches on, hangs tight as the stomach shrivels like a raisin around it. So when I pull back, out comes your lining. Painful, hard, terrible way to die.”

He shook his head. “I gave you an out, Tora-nado. I’ll give your friends an out, too. But here, now... you die.”

The towel went deeper and deeper into the girl’s throat, fingers working it in steadily.

The woman choked, body reclining as she tried to vomit the thing out. Of course, that was not happening. Her vision blurred, and as hard as she tried to scream, she knew it would not reach anyone in time. She knew it was all over. Her hand clenched, tears spilled from her eyes.

So this is how it all came back to haunt her.

When nothing but a corner of the towel was left, he pat the woman’s cheek, taking a final long drag on the smoke before putting it out on the skin just below her eye.

“Goodbye, Tora.” He said, and stroked the burnt flesh in an oddly tender moment.

And then he ripped out the towel.


He mounted the bike deftly, enjoying the roar of its engine beneath his legs, the purring of the beast. In his hip holster (freshly acquired) he had the Tesla pistol, tied in and secured. The girl’s goggles, too, were around his eyes, to keep the wind from mussing them too much. Revving the hoverbike’s engine, he pulled away from the scene and down towards the streets below.

Tora was only the beginning, after all.
"'I'm bored' is a useless thing to say. You live in a great, big, vast world that you've seen none percent of. And even the inside of your own mind is endless. It goes on forever inwardly. Do you understand? Being the fact that you're alive is amazing, so you don't get to be bored."

-Louis CK

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