Nightmares and Legacies (Part 5)

[The MAGGUSS Legacies]

Part 1 viewtopic.php?f=153&t=34447
Part 2 viewtopic.php?f=26&t=34448
Part 3 viewtopic.php?f=153&t=34450
Part 4 viewtopic.php?f=153&t=34453

CONTENT WARNING: Depictions of super human violence, severe injury, medical injury, very strong language.

Due to the nature of the violence depicted, and the time constraints for making a new image of Giles, no Images will be provided this post.

Escar island, four days ago

Magus stood over the last brain in Giles’ brain trust. Four of the six were green, and one was beyond being able to salvage and this last was being difficult. The pedestal had been tweaked and though the fluid within actively prevented decay, the unit was fighting with him in terms of maintaining a link. Or that’s what he believed a small status light on the domed glass comptration to mean.

This was taking too long, as it was. Mikael was well on his way to restoring operations with a larger Thorium reactor in another area, and now Magus was lagging behind, and frustration was building. He didn’t want to activate Giles with too few bodies, and they didn’t know what the trauma of dying and being brought back to life would do to a mind that was made up of several vat-dwelling brains linked to a nervous system in an otherwise non-conscious body.

It was risky, but he had to make a decision. He couldn’t be sure if Giles would retain enough memories, or what damage losing one brain would have, not to mention what might have been done to the ones that died. And the only person with enough information to help him move further was the entity he was trying to save.

He crossed his arms, and then brought one fist up and brought it to his chin, making a quick series of checks to see if he’d missed anything else. He could try to seek help from Miraxia, but that would take time, even if he could convince her. She knew more about Escar’s technology, and was far more knowledgeable than he was in general. He decided it wasn’t worth bringing the mad woman in, not to mention, he’d likely have to address the linger Krowbot she kept seemingly just to frustrate him.

“I guess I’m just going to have to risk it,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Giles.” He turned to the control console in the room and started tapping around it’s screen and a control nub. New lights came onto the active green pedestals, and he turned and started making his way toward the med-lab.

He made his way down the hall, passing Myra who had approached suddenly.

“Magus,” she exclaimed before skidding to a bit of a stop, noting the concern on his face.

“It’s a bad time, Myra,” he said, rushing past her.

“Oh.. okay,” she said, watching him go.

He slipped into the lab through it’s still stationary door. He rushed through the hall lined with a series of rooms stopping at Giles’ room, looking through the window.

The man was in seizure, and Magus grimaced. “Dammit,” uttered out before he shot down the the hall at an inhuman speed, into the room where he had drawn his blood and taught Myra, right up to the machine he’d hooked the bags to. He opened a port, grabbed one the syringes he’d left on top of, stuck the needle in the port, and drew the plunger back to fill it with a thin pink fluid. Without so much as care to protect the needle, he was out the door, and into Giles’ room within the blink of an eye.

He placed a hand on Giles’ arm, and just how he’d shown Myra how to use their abilities, draw all of the kinetic energy out of it, for a moment to force it to be still as the man wobbled and shook. He carefully inserted the needle into Giles arm, and pressed the plunger down. “Come on, friend. Stabilize.” He removed the needle and tossed it to the side then placed both hands on Giles’ shoulders and started reducing his motion with his abilities to try and keep him from causing more harm. “Come on, Giles.” The tension was strong.

It took over a minute but slowly tremors and shakes began to fade, until they waned into nothingness, and Giles lay there, still and motionless. “Reboot,” said in a metaphor, a weak attempt at levity at the nature of Giles himself. “You can do it, Giles,” Magus whispered as he stood up straight, relaxed and let the tension release from his body. He watched, in silence for another minute.

Finally, slowly, the man in the bed opened his eyes. They drifted the ceiling, then looked down and he gagged.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright,” Magus put a hand on his shoulder with a soothing touch, then placed a hand on Giles’ feeding tube and used his abilities to snake it out carefully. Once removed, he lay it on Giles chest and asked. “Can you hear me? Can you understand me?”

“Yes. The Brain trust is damaged,” Giles replied. “Please.. Hold on, I’m pausing non-critical processes.” Giles eyes rolled, unable to focus, and his speech sounded faintly slurred. “Please hold on, I’m pausing non-critical processes, a moment please.”

“Alright,” Magus said, waiting.

After a brief moment, Giles spoke. “I’m not well,” he said plainly. “Severe damage to mind zero and one.”

“I know,” Magus said. “Mind zero is fatal, you will not be able to recover it,” he added.

“Entire mental stripes are missing, my memories have large gaps. Language multiple redundancies seem okay, but I cannot process well enough to be sure,” GIles said.

“Yes, your language was duplicated across all brains along with core functions, you’re going to be missing memories and all but one mind may have sustained damage. Originally two brains were fatal, you’ve been revived and I need to help you revive mind number one to recover your memories fully,” Magus explained.

“Thank you, Magus,” Giles said.

“You remember me,” Magus asked.

“No,” Giles said. “I only have assumed knowledge from partial memories.”

“Are your factual backups still available? I don’t believe they were harmed, can you confirm,” Magus asked.

“I cannot, I have do not understand fully what the factual backups are,” Giles replied. “My body feels ill, pard--” he lurched to the side and began to vomit off the bed, onto the floor, retching rather violently as Magus stepped back.

Magus let out a sigh. Partially of relief, partially of frustration. This was going to take more work. “Giles, access the management console. Use the command F-B-maindatabase dot E-X-R, pipe-I-C.”

Giles held up a hand with a thumbs up, as he heaved again, vomited more. Magus assumed the smoothies Mikael had been pumping into him didn’t taste as good the second time around.

Finally Giles rolled back onto his back, lifting his sheet to his mouth, wiping. “My basic social skills are redundant?”

“Yes,” Magus answered. “Has the integrity check been completed?”

“No,” Giles said.

“The lack of power might by throttling the system. Halt task, view report, tell me how far into completion,” Magus commanded.

“Four percent of the information was checked and appeared intact,” Giles answered.

“That’s a pretty good sign, it’s unlikely you have any corruption to worry about then. Run the same core command again, but with variables pipe-R-I,” Magus instructed. “You will be unconscious for this process.”

“Understood,” Giles said, and he closed his eyes.


Battle Realm, Capital city Tazam

The capital city of Tazarn, scant looked like it did ages past. Ar had torn it down bit by bit as he grew in strength and demolished the world to make way for the tribal lands. While the frames of tall buildings remained, they were dressed and adorned with rudimentary modifications, a post apocalyptic world taken over by a warrior people of tribes who lived under the simple concept of survival of the fittest. Using their natural born give and what genetically available magic remained within the lineages of people that now called the world their home.

The city however, had been gutted at it’s foundation. Only few stragglers survived, now scavenging for survival, none of the true warriors remaining as they fought to their last breath in Starks assault on the world.

The tallest building was a steel skeleton re-enforced at its base by stone, new steel twining it together, keeping it mostly aloft, though many of the top floors having fallen in ages past giving way to centuries, of not millenia of decay. It was also the place Ar called home. The place was often drenched in rain, one of the wettest regions in the world, and Ar loved it. The idea of sloshing into battle, fighting in the torrents of water that fell from the sky, overlooking so often how his predecessors carved this land to be flood free. Though, it was never lost on him the original people of this world could conquer nature itself and he, Ar, had conquered them.

Now he stood atop the structure, beside the highest decaying steel beam that still stabbed into the sky, several hundred feet above the ground screaming into clouds that dropped water in a deluge upon his city. “COME,” he cried. “WHAT ARE YOU SO AFRAID OF!?” Screams he had been lending to the sky for hours.

“I am here, face me, you weak, pathetic cowards, face the lord of battle! Bring me your bones so I may break them in my fingers and suck their marrow,” he bellowed, before unleashing a cry that bore no words. Then again, screaming into the night of water and vapor, and darkness. Water worked its way down the protected steel that was failing. Even now it creaked and whined in protest of the strength lost to its age. Even with their ability to protect the structures, time won, as it always would.

He was short on breath, he’d expelled so much of his lungs to taunt an enemy that would not answer, and in all likelihood could not even hear him. And while it would forever be lost upon him how utterly cliche his narcissism was, realization began to wash over him.

This was just a storm, normal as any other.

No one was coming.

No one cared.

And he sneered into the night. Alone. Lonely. Helpless in spite of his nigh Godlike might.
“Cowardly God of nightmares,” he said. And it would likely take an actual God to convince his opponent was anything other than.

He leapt from his perch and his cloak billowed in wet protest as he landed hard on the ground. He turned toward lights up the distant street. Oh the few remaining survivors, one still held great value to him. He stalked the mile up the street, mulling over the possible reasons whatever God that had attacked would refuse to face him now. The survivors said he was in fact who the boy who heralded the attack sought.

Marching up to a small building reshaped into a large hut with wood, brick and stone, he pulled back a curtain and entered.

The main room was circular with a fire pit set in the center, wafting smoke into a hood that carried it out the roof. Two elderly men sat beside it; one slept, but the other cracked his eyes open to stare at Ar. “She is still weak and wary, Maximus. Please… if you can find it within you to-”

“Quiet,” he said, marching in, and past them toward a back room. “Finding this opponent is all that matters. Do you not want just vengeance?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” said the man, as the other one startled awake. Ar went through another curtain, into a back room, laced with fur and pillows to find a woman, young, curled onto her side, sleeping. A nearly designed cloth, cushioned and carefully tied in place covered her eyes. He approached and loomed over her quietly.

“Yes, my beloved,” she rasped out in question.

“I think I looked to the wrong place for answers,” Ar said quietly. “Search the stars and find Cameron, for me. Tell me where he hides.”

“Y-yes…” she whispered, without moving.


Escar island

“So, when you explained to us how to save you, and what was required to bring you back online, you deliberately failed to mention the spare parts stored in the lower complex,” Magus asked.

“Yes. The factual backups have extensive notes on this, in fact,” Giles replied.

Both he and Magus were in the vault, once again, both kneeled down as they were installing a new pedestal. “Certain protections were undertaken to minimize the harm done in potential hostilities. This is why you and Mikael were also chosen to be part of the preventive and critical maintenance team for our systems,” Giles explained. “It’s possible if someone on the Island knew of means to control the compound, or me, they could do great harm. This proved true in the revolt that led to Alyssa leaving with the others to form the forest tribe,” he answered.

“That makes sense, and with our pasts it suppose it’s better to segment your vulnerabilities,” Magus said.

“I do not remember clearly if that was the mindset, but I assume that to be correct, Magus.” This was said as Giles worked to connect wiring harnesses to the pedestal, while adding. “the factual notes just have comments that give general ideas, where needed.”

Magus was thoughtful a moment before agreeing with a nod. He kept the object upright as Giles worked. He eventually asked, “So once we get you to four fifths of operational, you can fully recover?”

“Fully recovered' seems to be a simplification,” Giles admitted. “Truth be told, eventually the brains have to have key information saved, be reformed, and replaced. Information slowly evaporates based on priority and the transfer process is imperfect. That will have to happen soon after this much integrity damage. Image memory is often lost, I could, in theory, forget what you look or sound like. It will take a few weeks to replace these brains out of caution, but I should be back to normal behavior around that time.”

“Good,” Magus said. “And you can repair your reactor and use our Thorium system as a backup?”

“Correct,” Giles replied. “Your thorium output will not bring everything back to normal, and excessive energy will be needed to repair the compound. I cannot even speculate how long such an endeavor will take at full capacity, let alone with a degraded power system.”

“I suppose that’s something we didn’t consider,” Magus said.
“You probably weren’t meant to,” Giles said. “The notes indicate you would be the most likely to be able to help in the event of a catastrophe. Not fully trusted, but trusted enough.”

Magus went silent for a moment, thoughts straying down possibilities before understanding where a sudden wave of discomfort came from, speaking, “I would like to change that. I think we’ve spent enough time manipulating each other in this situation.”

“I am not in a place to agree or disagree, right now,” latching a quick release hose into the new device they were installing he stood up. “Right now, I have no capacity for serious consideration. All of the brains are being given anti-inflammatories and sedatives to make what we’re doing now possible.”

“Fair enough,” said Magus.

Vangor, a Kingdom in Magus’ home world

Cameron surveyed the scene, in a crouch, each wrist draped upon a knee. It was recent, perhaps a few days. He wondered if it was related, but doubted it was.

He was in a wood cabin, heavily obscured by foliage. In the main room, littered with old, dilapidated technological devices were two things of clear interest. The body of a young girl he did not know, what remained of a very old Krowbot. He didn’t really keep track of the revisions, but the model was far older than the last one he could clearly recall. It had been severely damaged, repaired, then damaged again. He could make that out, at least. They laid beside each other on the floor, like you expect from the death of a suicide pact, but he couldn’t figure out how the girl would’ve removed part of it’s head, that damage looking fresh, while the rest of the chassis looked heavily decayed.

He stood up, little he could do now. He drew in a breath, sighing. The stench of the body was invading his nostrils and he’d grown well past okay with it, moving to exit the cabin. He stepped onto the porch with heavy boot falls and placed his hand on his hips, drawing in a breath of fresh air.

He stepped out into the forest floor, and began to walk away, uphill toward a clearing he knew existed. He’d spent a year here with his father and the twins before Krow abruptly ended it all. The events that started here lead to the first time he had died, sacrificing himself to save his father and Mikael, who was already brutally wounded, igniting the events that lead to Mikael being lost for years.

Oddly, he thought of his biological nephew Cyrve, and wondered how he was fairing having escaped this atrocious lifestyle.

He drew in a fresh breath and lept, abilities taking him through the trees, breaking the canopy, to survey his surroundings.

Then he had been harder than he could remember being hit in ages. The impact was so loud that the ground shook. A village miles away took cover from the crack that raged through a clear sky.

Cameron just saw, blue, then a blur of brown and green, and felt everything in his stun as he tore through trees, then soil, coming to a stop nearly a quarter kilometer away. He’d been struck in the cheek, and could feel one of his teeth coming loose as he grabbed with both hands, wailing “son of wench!” He immediately began to roll and felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

“Stay put, boy,” said a deep, condescending voice. “We are going to talk.”

Ar’s voice. Of course it was Ar. Who else would hit him that hard without warning?

Cameron’s vision became as red as his iris, he grabbed the wrist attached to him and came up with a blow that let another explosion of sound rip through the surrounding area just as before, leaves falling from branches as things shook in the shockwave. Animals were fleeing with great urgency.

But the landing was soft for a punch, and Ar held Cameron’s fist in his hand, having been ready to catch it. “Pathetic,” he said before Ar’s own hand - the one holding Cameron’s shoulder forced its way down with another deafening sound and the earth caved under them in a crater.


Trees were uprooted and collapsed, the ground cracked open in lines that circled around from the epicenter that was Cameron’s back and he felt his shoulder dislocate. Cameron screamed. It wasn’t even worth explaining the terror the locals were going through.

Cameron tried to focus through all the pain. In a direct confrontation, he could hold his own with Ar. He was generally faster, more creative, used the kinetic abilities better, but blind sided? He didn’t seem to stand a chance.

“Fuck you, Ar,” he exclaimed. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Quiet.Tell me what you know about shadow versions of your beloved attacking battle realm,” he said, menacingly.

“He said fuck you,” rang another Cameron’s voice, as Ar took a blow to his cheek that landed with the same ferocity of previous blows, like thunder and explosion washing across the lands. Ar’s body cleared a path of trees as he flew, they he landed on his feet, skidding to a stop, and launching forward to attack the second Cameron.

Cameron had difficulty existing in multiple places at the same time. That many memories were, to put it mildly, potentially traumatic to the mind in a body that hadn’t experienced them when they were absorbed. I was like uncovering repressed trauma. What was easier was to use manifestations of younger versions of himself that had perished, leaving it to feel more like a distant memory than a fresh explosion of emotions.

Ar approached to find a younger Cameron, with longer hair, blue eyes, and a white cloth duster, bracing for an impact, moving to protect the older, injured Cameron. Cameron blue deftly moved to fight with Ar, each throwing blows and dodging with rushes of air blowing through the trees with each miss.

While the blue eye’d Cameron fought, the red eye’d Cameron rolled onto a knee, put a thumb in his mouth, and pushed a tooth back into place to heal faster, then braced his shoulder to use his abilities to push his arm back into its socket with a yelp. He took a few moments to breath, spitting out a bout of blood. He listened as blows landed nearby shaking the world around him. He knew his younger self would have far more difficulty with Ar than he would now, and prayed this wasn’t a new trauma being birthed into the dreaming for him to absorb. After a moment the blows stopped, and Ar appeared in the dusty haze through the trees walking forward.

“Smart to make your clone vanish as it’s losing,” said as Ar denoted that the Blue eyed Cameron unmanifested himself back to the dreaming. Ar was holding his side, as if he were injured. Blood spurted from his nose and poured from the corner of his mouth. He drew the boned blade he wielded from behind his waist and lurched forward with artificial momentum.

Cameron had taken enough time to heal, sharp pains beginning to dull into aches, and then in the moment that it took Ar to arrive Cameron summoned Ibliss’ blade to his hand in a burst of flame. Bloodshot, his eyes were redder than before, and all he wanted at this moment was to share it with this white haired, blue eyed, warrior asshole.

Cameron met Ar’s swing and Ibliss dug into the bone of Ar’s blade. Cameron flooded the blade with kinetic energy Ar grunting in resistance under it broke, shattering and leaving Ar to stumble and lumber forward where Cameron launched a blow with the pommel of the sword so hard the sound dwarfed the previous blows, sending physical shockwaves through the forest. Ar’s momentum should’ve taken him to fly through the woods, but it didn't. Ar, if he had time to register what happened would have been surprised to find in the milliseconds of time between blow and launch Cameron had caught his ankle to prevent him from flying away and whipped Ar so hard back the other direction Ar felt his ankle bone start to crack while he was literally whipped into the ground with such force it was like a small meteor striking the forest, leaving an explosion erupting from the earth with fire and columns of debris shooting in dusty trails into the sky.

Cameron’s original eyes may have lost sight, but Ibliss’ bond granted him the sight needed to find his enemy at the bottom of the crater and Cameron’s fist came down, channeling every bit of kinetic energy through it that he could directly into Ar’s body. Cameron was forcing Ar to absorb most of the blow, but the residual shockwave cleared the clouds, fire and debris away as he struck where Ar had been holding, shattering his rib cage extensively.

Ar hadn’t felt this way since his first encounter with Magus who’d defeated him soundly. His mind was hazing in and out of consciousness as abilities attempted to heal the catastrophic damage rapidly. He could only moan and cough up blood rapidly, his face buried in stone and soil, in the center of a crater that was several hundred feet wide, and devoid of anything but the trees as fire, rock, ash, and dust that rained down in every direction.

Cameron fell to his knees, stabbing Ibliss into the ground. “Fuck you, Ar. I didn’t want this. I never wanted to be a warrior, like you, or my fucking dad.”

Ar, unable to respond, and barely able to hear due to blown eardrums and a lack of attachment to being conscious, naught to do but lay there.

Cameron, hunched over as the sword vanished into the flames and he yelled out a cry of pure frustration. He reached over and handly rolled Ar over, wrapping his hand around his throat. “They fucking attacked me, too. Is that what you went through all this to hear, you god damn worthless fuck? They attacked me too and I’m fucking sick of fighting, Ar. I swear to fucking God, you ever do this to me again, and I will kill you.” His words burned with fury and dripped with hate.

He stood up as a spell he inherited from Ibiss enveloped him in a flame. “Be fucking glad I don’t right now.” And Cameron vanished.

Ar just lay there, as he healed, moaning.

[The MAGGUSS Legacies]

Part six: viewtopic.php?f=153&t=34490