Created by OnePlusYou

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Who is to Blame? (Chapter of Twos: Part Two)

Chapter of Twos: Part Two
Disclaimer: usual disclaimers apply
Note: I found several mistakes in my previous chapter and I hope I didn’t insult anyone, or bother anyone by them. I will fix them, or I have fixed them. Whichever I did. Because this chapter’s pretty long. I’m sorry to keep you people waiting. And I remembered Chicken Little always say “What were we talking about?”
And, I’m sorry if I flooded your mail… I was freaking out abut the stupid one-shot that I did. As I’ve said… I’m a perfectionist. Or what sleeps deprivation does to you.

I’m going to be sick.”
Father Nightroad, it is not advisable that you walk to the bar and drink sugar-saturated tea during this flight—the confines of the air-borne vehicular are not appropriate for in-flight locomotion; you can injure yourself. And, due to intermediate turbulence, you may regurgitate your last substantial food.” Tres warned the green priest trying to plant his feet firmly on the plane floor.
Tres, there’s no actual bar on this thing were flying in—I don’t even think it’s a plane; it is a garbage bin launched towards the Desolate Area!” Abel practically screamed. He fervently wished for Tres to second his motion earlier, for them to grab the parachutes at the back and risk loosing their limbs in trekking to the Darklands. Caterina did give them a suspiciously accurate map of the place.
The ‘plane’ the Vatican hired wasn’t exactly the Tristan. Wherever Caterina found the absolutely devoted—or frankly insane—pilot of the wreck in the sky, Abel had no idea. Maybe the same place she got the junk locomotive, since the two are practically living relics themselves. Except the pilot looked like he was in his mid-30’s just wearing antiques from the landfills in Pre-Armageddon. He also had no idea why the Cardinal wouldn’t let them ride a decent plane like the Iron Maiden; she had the thing practically at her beck and call, for crying out loud! It was just unfair in letting him get stuck with Tres—although a most loyal subject to Cardinal Sforza and a stable comrade, but a stiff colleague—in the vessel, limbs entangled with one another as he constantly tried to scoot away from the shabby, nearly unhinged airlock since eleven o’clock. It was also very uncomfortable, the thought that they have wronged the Cardinal and were getting doused with this cruel and unusual punishment. In addition, Abel was half off his seat and half way on Tres’ knees. The inside of the airplane didn’t allow him to seat on Tres’ lap and didn’t give them the extravagance of choice; Abel was too long for the port-side of the plane because of the compartment above it, inevitably landing the oddball priest on the starboard of the ship, near the stupidly dangerous decomposing papered airlock and a dangerously stupid pet gliding squirrel.

What did I do to deserve this? Abel cringed and looked like he was about to cry a river.
Father Nightroad, status report.” Tres asked. He saw the look on the priest’s face and registered the emotion as hopelessness, and surrender or defeat. He wondered why the father reacted that way and to what. He scanned his database under hierarchy: Compadre e Papa de Arcanum Cella ex Domo Dei for Abel Nightroad: Crusnik; and, found the expression of the green man to be a result from the unusual condition of the vessel. Father Abel Nightroad was known to whine/complain on several occasions from regard to uncomfortable or disagreeable factors; he was also keen to have a higher pay or have the Vatican to consider tabbing—gave an oath to a life of poverty and such—and sought out comfort from well-defined trends in society—the luxury of cars, modernized planes, and secure mass transits with proper accommodations. . Unlike the circumstance that revealed itself now—the vestige they were on was not par to 1262-3860 health: maintenance code, including the pilot’s attire, and has violated several flight security protocols from 848 serial L to 6250 serial N. Tres now can understand why the father was apt to guile his body’s movements towards Tres’ knees and free chins’ leg support. The double-seater deemed not had been constructed to fit two fully-grown men and was degenerating at an exponential rate, fast enough to disintegrate Abel’s half of its cover over six hours’ time during the flight. Another violation was of take-off: no. 686 (Roma). The glider’s Trademark Launch had been to haul the whole object by catapult toward 30 degrees North by Northeast for Desolate Area Code No. 115: San Van Gonza; the start speed of 40 miles per hour could have ripped the airlock off the launched airglider and may had put the three men aboard through a dangerous uncontrollable turbulence eventually leading to a plunge 140 feet above the highest grounds, approximately 50 feet above sea level. There was also the Animal Violation Code No. 468—an uncased pet aboard a public vehicle, especially in a flight. He didn’t even know that there was supposed to be a squirrel on board, or if it had had its shots.
But, besides all the faults and numerous dangers potential to the airglider, from takeoff to journey, Tres didn’t have doubts. He wasn’t to question, never to question, the Cardinal’s wishes on cutting back a small amount of funds regarding their mission. His check-up appeared to have had miniscule impact to AX’s financial back-up—Tres, my boy, about your check-up; it has been decided that we cut some figures off your mission, O.K.?—small enough to stall the Iron Maiden’s flight to save fuel and to hire a self-registered airship, not in service for any capable agency that specialize for long inter-country private flights, Lady Sforza even assured him that it was for their own good. Father Wordsworth also made sure that the catapult mechanism was enough to get them, at the most, just above the target location. “Falling with style.” he assured Tres that that was gliding about and it just needs proper calculations in serving its system to function properly and securely.
Abel shook his head. He wasn’t going to answer Tres anytime soon.
0O1“Ce planeur est ma vie - de sorte comme un baiser d'une femme avec du rouge à lèvres rouge.” The, apparently, French pilot suddenly interjected. 0O2“Skippy, se rappeler les bons vieux jours?”
So that’s why he’s nuts… Abel thought.
0O3“Monsieur, s’il vous plaît concentrer votre attention sur la conduite airglider.” Tres said.
0O4“Oui ... Oui ...” the pilot said. 0O5“Juste une chose: votre ami ... est-il bien? Je veux dire, nous pourrions le faire un peu d'aide lorsque nous arrivons à la place de Q10.”
0O6“Monsieur, est-ce qui Q10?” Tres asked.
0O7“Est-elle la sorcière le Vatican parle? Êtes-vous la source digne de confiance de l'Inquisition? Plus important encore, vous sont sanctionnés et autorisé, par fealty, AX d'avoir cette information?” he heavily inquired the now bug-eyed pilot.
Uh… uh…” the pilot blurted. “Uh… 0O9C'est dans le non-nécessité d'en connaître.” he ended with a sheepish smile.
Paler.” Tres demanded. His crimson eye flashed.
Oui… Oui…” the pilot repeated. 0O10“Je dirai ... après nous ce chiot terre!”
0O11“Mieux être fidèle à ta parole, monsieur.” Tres warned.
While the two were busy speaking, Abel was breathing slowly, in a steady and calm rhythm. Close to hyperventilation.
You can speak French?” Abel asked Tres, barely a whisper. It was a miracle Tres even heard without adjusting his hearing ability.
Positive.” Tres answered. He didn’t require any more information for the rest of the flight—he was preparing for the landing interrogation of Mr. D’Voughnn Bijoux.
Tres? Are we there yet?” Abel hopelessly asked for the 11th time. This time, he wasn’t shaking.
Negative. 4 hours 12 minutes and 32.23 seconds until we reach San Van Gonza.” Tres robotically chorused. “We will be there by nine in the evening.”
With contempt, Abel decided to just settle for the minute space on the seater with fabric cover between Tres and the eaten other half. They spent the rest of the flight listening to the squirrel and the pilot talk.

We’re going to DIE!!!” Abel shouted over the turbulence.
Negative. We will land safely.” Tres assured him while bracing the other father for the impact, chucking his partner over to the back and holding him in place.
0O12“Préparez-vous! Dans…” the pilot announced over the wails of the wind. 0O13“Trois ... deux ... une ...” he braced himself as well…
An explosion of dust blurred the light from every direction; the airlock was finally unhinged; the squirrel was nowhere to be heard; and, plenty a paper laid waste over the three bodies inside the landed glider. Abel had screwed his eyes shut in the moment before impact whilst Tres tightened his grip on the emergency handle at the back of the glider; a fraction of a second after the crash, the handle broke free of the back wall and plunged both priest to the pilot seat. Abel’s scream was heard in the one-mile radius as his family jewels were disturbed by the yoke of the mechanism; Tres grabbed the co-pilot seat’s back and saved the squirrel stuck between both seats while he swung both his legs to scoop Abel up and towed the priest to the back. Tres hauled himself next with a second swing; he handed Abel the squirrel, regardless of his grief and grabbed fists-full of the pilot’s mangled garbs. He held both men by their waists and put them in firemen carries.
0O14“Dude ... refroidissement ... Nous n'allons pas sombrer plus loin. Croyez-moi, je l'ai fait avant. Mis à part ... le planeur le mécanisme a été construit par un super genie!” the pilot, Bijoux, suavely informed Tres.
0O15“Négatif.” Tres retorted. He kicked off the roof of the glider and jumped more than high enough to get them out of the vessel. He landed a good meter away from the crater they created and unloaded both men at once.
0O16“Sacrebleu!” Bijoux shouted. 0O17“Le planeur! Il coulait!”
0O18“Positifs. Le navire de amortisseurs ne sont pas appropriés pour l'impact causé par un de trois hommes de poids net. Votre airglider a la capacité de vous, mais pas tous les trois d'entre nous. Nous sommes le surplus de poids - à repousser les limites des amortisseurs.” Tres stated matter-of-factly.
0O19“At-il savons que nous sommes à venir?” Tres stopped his search protocol and placed the red dot on Bijoux’s forehead.
0O20“Tout d'abord, faire pas mal parler l'enfant. D'autre part, ne demandez pas «jusqu'à ce que vous voyez ... neh?” Bijoux retorted with mischief, laden with a concealing grin.
STOP!” Abel merged to life. He was still sitting spread-legged on the spot where Tres dropped him, in shock of the whole flight, with the squirrel fighting for his right to breathe. “What’s happening? Tres?” He gulped.
Close your eyes and breathe… Breathe. Abel chanted in his head.
Father Nightroad, the witch’s identity has been given an alias. I speculate that it is Q10. The pilot, D’Voughnn Bijoux, knows a person living either near or on the mission’s location.” Tres briefly answered, without looking at him.
Abel exhaled. “Really…?” He noticed the vermin who was wildly thrashing in his hand; he immediately let go.
0O21“Monsieur, savez-vous d'une identité avec une extrême capacités? Quels sont les formulaires comme celui de génie ou de la sorcellerie?”
0O22“Wooowww ... Là bas. Je pense que nous devrions ...” Bijoux tried to escape interrogation.
0O23“Vous avez justifiés pour interrogatoire pendant le vol.” Tres reminded him.
Oh… hehehe…” he chuckled, defeated. Skippy perched on his right shoulder and started to groom himself—as if the critter’s saliva can do the fur any good; it looked like it was scavenged in the landfills as well.
0O24“D'accord. Q10 est effectivement Enigma Q10. Elle est—“ his babble was cut short by a bullet that pierced his head. Skippy didn’t move from his spot on the man’s shoulder; it was still grooming.
Abel quickly rose to his feet and stood beside Tres. The pain between his legs was nothing compared to the feeling he got when the wind suddenly burst by his knees. “We’ve got a visitor.”
Both men readied themselves; Tres took out his twin Jerichos while Abel wielded his silver rifle. They stayed back-to-back in the attempt of guarding opposite directions in case the killer strikes them. Their senses heightened with the scuffling in the nearest bush; scrapping near the tallest tree by their far right; and the sound of a blade being taken out of its sheath by their near left. Where the heck is she? Whoever this girl was she’s good. The two priests moved father from the body of the once-giddy pilot and the crater with a totally-scrapped glider, the skin pealing and the skeleton revealed. It didn’t look like it was built by a super genius now. It was hard to believe that a piece of junk like that was ever a work of a brilliant mind. The father they got, the more the wind blew them, and almost knocking Abel off his feet, but Tres was as steady as a rock with each step.
Four-Eyes, you won’t win. I know your every move. Don’t call me ‘girl’—I do not like that. And, I am a super genius.” the wind howled from within the gray canopy of the forest. It resonated over the hoods of the gigantic phantoms stretching throughout their vision and did not sound unearthly so to prick at the back of any man's neck. It just echoed as the wind did.
Huh? Who are you? Show yourself.” Abel retorted.
Look, Four-Eyes. That guy’s fine. I just returned the favor, that’s all.” Then, the wind picked up all the pieces from the wreck and a cloud of dust spiraled around the airglider’s skeleton. After the gust, the ruin was no more but a new wreck appeared right beside the crater that looked just like the one before. “This thing you call junk, my Four-Eyed Cretin, is the makings of a genius mind. From scratch, I have built a fully-functional aircraft with a flying mechanism which holds the most distance versus all the refuse fly-bys from before! The Catapult 3000, you are frightened of, is a very useful firing mecha-droid allowing the Glider 32A to take to the wind. The Catapult also helps me send cretins like you to the moon; I can even tell it to send you through one of the moons to get to the other. That baby kicks, man!”
Abel looked fervently around the clearing. But, Tres noticed the dead pilot slowly coming to his feet. Abel’s eyeballs bulged in their sockets. This can’t be happening. The bush at the opposite end rustled and a mysterious creature stepped out. It was dressed down in a black cloak laced by a complicated but elegant knot by the neck. Its hood was shadowing the figure’s face but not enough to conceal the thin pale lips with fangs sticking out of them. It was shorter than both the men from Vatican, and it was also of frail form--but, judging just through looking at the phantom did nothing. He was wearing a very roomy cloak.
Dude… it’s me.” The form lifted what looked like its hand and dropped the hood from its perch. A boyish grim face greeted them. Its eyes, an astonishing cobalt blue. He looked like he was from a monastery and had this criminally innocent facial depiction of a saint somewhere that was framed with gleaming short obsidian hair. Like normal teenagers' cut for boys. A bit longer than Tres'. This can't be Q10... she's not like this is she? “I am Q10.”
She made her way towards the frozen father and the intimidating cyborg. “Switching from—“
“’Switching from Search Mode to Genocide Mode.’ Is that what your going to say?” the girl intruded. “I told you people that you won’t win. And, Four-Eyes, I’m no girl. Get that through your thick skull. That’s why I gave you my name. Right, Bijoux? Or call me ‘he’ in your thoughts; I don’t have a gender, after all…”
Search Mode to Genocide Mode.” Tres finished and started to air bullets heading for Q10’s extremities and the moving corpse.
But, the bullets were stopped in midair. The black clad arms of Q10 were raised and the zombie now halted beside her by a few meters. The bullets were rotating slowly, ever so slowly, on their spot. Abel and Tres noticed that after several stunned seconds. “I have telekinesis, morons. And, this ‘corpse’, Four-Eyes’, ‘Metal-Dog’, is not a corpse—it’s my satellite, B.I.U.Z.Z.I.” she said, looking bored.
Bizzy?” Abel and Tres asked.
Yeah. Bus Inter-Universal Zapotec deZign Intercom-lace. B.I.U.Z.Z.I.—or Bizzy for short.” she perked up. “I like giving people a taste of science, that’s why I perk up whenever I teach, morons.”
Now, see here, young lady…” Abel sternly addressed the girl who crushed Tres’ 13 millimeter cases and tossed them straight at the pilot’s forehead. And, who even read his thoughts.
For the last time, Old Four-Eyed Freak: I DO NOT like being called woman names… Do I look like a woman to you? Don’t answer that.” Q10 threatened. “ BD, you called me ‘she’, didn’t you?” his eyes flashed black. Flashes of lightning struck the stooped limping frame by his side.
OW! Lightning is not supposed to strike the same spot twice unless per one trillionth bolt! It’s unfair!” the corpse suddenly spoke. It transformed, piece by piece with the flying squirrel, to a black dragonfly with curves and lines that glowed green.
I have the power over the elements, Bee.” Q10 teased.
It’s Bizzy, genius! I’m a dragonfly design!” the green electronic bug protested. “And, you better stop that or I’m going to tell!”
For your A.I., I think I’ve put too much necro in you. And, for your information, backlash, I have no GENDER! I prefer to be called ‘he’, dung-maestro!” Q10 retaliated. The bug started to rapidly beat its wings and took off to the east.
Oi!” Q10 called after it. “Wait up, if you don’t want to be green, blue, and, yellow!” he then ran to the tallest tree and jumped an incredible distance trying to lessen the space between him and the tech-bug.
Hey!” Abel shouted. “Wait! Come back!” They were distracted by the odd actions the two displayed before the ecclesiastical pioneers of destruction.
Switching from Genocide Mode to Search Mode.” Tres said. “Father Nightroad, we must get to them and question his whereabouts in the Desolate Area.” With that, Abel was hefted onto Tres’ back. “Wait…” Tres!” Tres bent down and slid his right foot back; then, started to run. He was running unbelievably fast, rapidly enclosing the distance from clearing to clearing the two odd ones went through. “Father, I am going to accelerate my speed to 40 miles per hour, but you must be ready to carry my weight for 30 minutes in Shutdown Mode after you make an agreement with the extraordinary being.” Abel was not able to answer because, in the next moment, Tres ran faster and beat the dirt more rapidly. We caught up with Q10, his cloak billowing after him; he didn’t even glance down or sideways. He just stared straight forward like he knew where the bug was going; nevertheless, the bug was trying to shake them all off by doing zigzags through the gray trees. Every time Tres went nearer Q10 swerved and furthered himself from the two fathers.
When we finally caught up to him, he said, “I know what you’re trying to do. Well, it’s not going to work. I do not negotiate with bastards from the Outside. You people are just as bad as you were before.” Then, he disappeared…

The breeze frolicking near the surface of the gray grass bound around the feet of a bespectacled form in Vatican robes. A man lay beside him, unmoving and undisturbed by the crisp sounds coming from the crackling firewood. The nighttime sky was jet black and little twinkling dots cascaded from endless end to endless end. Graying or totally patina vegetation from the surroundings disseminated a wall protecting the outside world as well as the clearing they landed in. Both men were under a ginormous tree with a most free space around it, where Tres broke down after about five minutes of searching the premises for Q10. The kid got away without a trace; after he disappeared, Tres put his systems on overdrive and went searching frantically about the bushes. Amidst Abel’s confusion and his hair collecting splinters, the world was in a blur, even when the father’s eyes were screwed shut from time to time; Tres went over 60 miles and some of his clothes were torn off and one of his boots smiled at the very last of his strength’s testaments. The two laid there for 30 minutes, but it was enough to get the oddball priest into a deep slumber.
Tres woke up. “Checking servosystems performance…” his red eye flashed. “Systems check, complete: no programming is damaged.

Initiating drive build-up: damages, 49% malfunction:
Overdrive damage assessment:
-Overheated hydraulic boosters
-Overworked balance (neutral) hydraulics
-Unresponsive left leg
-Right Leg must not be moved to prevent further damage: repair is required.
"Mechanisms check, complete.
Mission parameters checked and revised: mission start—LOG 001: October 22, 3072: Operation Wizard Search.” Tres robotically spurred.
He noticed the oddball priest lying next to him and inferred from the sleeping diagnostics scan to retreat from waking him. Their surrounding was exactly the same when he shutdown; the location was not safe as intruders might be in the area and had followed them during the chase for Enigma Q10. Tres scanned the clearing but only up to the edges, not deep enough through the foliar to assess it clear. His right eye flashed a more brilliant red than the left; vigilant of any entity on the prowl in the deep grayed bushes. Time trickled on into minutes of silence as the swagger of the trees lay drunk the sky to any Terran soft enough to take the bait; the roots’ coruscated withing along the forest floor dove for the sanctuary of the earth after a long drag from their mother tree; the breeze laid waste to just man’s attention at the moment when skin touches the chilling night air. All that had been ignored by the cyborg as he continued his never-tiring guard and search over the patch of land they were on.
Then all of a sudden, a twig cracked from behind.
Who is there?” Tres demanded. “Are you the one they call ‘Enigma Q10’?”
The wind sprawled its bearing in front of the unblinking man, but all he saw first was the translucent dust being beat by the ethereal force. After which, the figure came out with the same attire he had worn 46 minutes and 33.4 seconds ago since last sight of the subject.
Yes. I deem that you’re the smart one? You’re the rational one, yes?” Q10 calmly addressed Tres.
Positive.” Tres said. “Your invention, the dragonfly satellite, you name B.U.I.Z.Z.I., vouched for interrogation. I require that you comply with our agreement.”
He said that you can speak French, oui?” Q10 asked.
0O25“Eh bien ... nous devons discuter de certaines questions sur ce que vous voulez et ce que je veux.”

This is the dome…” Q10’s voice bounced off the walls and created a voice that boomed for the miles along the entrance hall. He proceeded to the left of the massive metallic double doors and stood by a metal stand with a gaunt stone slab.
How far does this hall go?” Abel asked. He finally woke up in Tres’ arms in a bridal-style carry during the trek towards Q10’s place. What really got him to stretch his eyelid muscles was that Q10 was carrying Tres and Tres was carrying him.
You do not need to know… Do you speak Spanish? Latin? French? German?” the kid inquired, his back facing them with a typing sound emanating from the concealed slab as he typed on it.
Isn’t English enough?” Abel asked curious to why he would like some other language. They seemed to be communicating just fine.
The extraordinary child marched towards Tres, crossing the vast space the diameter of the hall had. 0O26“J'avais raison en vous nommant un malin ...” he said unsmiling as he passed by Tres’ sitting form in the far east side of the colossus hall. 0O27“Je vais juste faire mes outils; je fixer votre ami, Quatre-Yeux—Non—mise à jour. Celui qui construit lui était stupide. Pas de talent que ce soit. Ses pièces et mécanique sont inutiles des "rossignols"!” he called back to Abel, not looking at him and continuing towards the corner wall near Tres’ bench. He again disappeared into thin air with strong echoes at his wake… just like that.
Abel stopped gawking at the marvel before them and asked Tres, “What did he say?”
“’I will get my tools; I will fix your friend, Four-Eyes—no—upgrade him. Whoever built him was stupid. No talent whatsoever. His parts and mechanics are useless pieces of junk.’” Tres imitated the voice of Q10.
Abel mouthed an ‘O.K.’ and retuned to gazing at everything in the room. The Dome wasn’t really like a dome outside; it had a dome but it also had wings: East Wing01, West Wing01, East Wing02, and West Wing02. The interior looked like it was built along the lines of the Baroque Style inside a Victorian mansion and between the seas of Futuristic-Bare and Cathedral-Big. The slab of stone was really a keyboard which had a holographic monitor stemming from its leg; the ceiling was reflecting the evening sky outside and had a holographic translucent violet plate on one end forecasting weather. The floor was white marble and the walls were mixed marbles that matched; blue and white swirled on the right fighting the vermillion and black pools on the left, but at the front, graphite-marble pillars stood before a corner stall of the wall which was made of bed stone rocks smelted to a smooth perfection—destined for a marble encounter. Marble was the theme of the dome; everything was meant to fit around the marbles, not the other way around. He must really like marble…
When they were outside, just three minutes ago, Enigma Q10 said to call him Q10—it’s better that way. There was many a thing he couldn’t understand about that kid. He couldn’t have been weirder; “Everything you see here survived the Armageddon—you better pay respects for the trees that saw your before-life and demise… My home is my haven; desecrate it and you must pay it something of equal importance—when you break a Ming Dynasty vase, you’ll give me a vase that means equally as much to you as the Ming did. So is the payment like. The Dome, my home, is a shelter for the Pre-Armageddon histories. Do not touch anything that looks like it’s important. Some things are never meant to be opened and some things are never meant to be disturbed. The antiquities in my palace have been preserved throughout time—it’s curse is that it holds your keys for a life of leisure—you humans and vampires are all the same and still you impend war on opposing forces, even yourselves. 900 years you’ve been cooped up in a sepulcher of your lover when she wants you to enjoy life! Stupid! I say the least of the matter…
The Dome must not be beheld by any ear I do not know and anyone I do not sanction for them to know. Abel… you have quite the mouth and the justice in you to do whatever it seems necessary to be transparent with the ones you love—well, guess what, in these lands, you do not get acquaintances, you build them! My inventions, my friends, have been with me for many a year. Pay them heed when they say warnings and tales of fact and morality. I have been ‘babbling’ to them for at least a thousand years, Abel. Tres, I expect you to keep a close watch on your pathetic friend. I know of your past, dander-head. Don’t ask how. I even know where Tres came from—and it’s not with the rise of the Gunmetal Hounds.” Q10 had lain down a while back.
When Abel awoke, Q10 halted and laid down the law. Good thing that the weirder stuff came last; “You people are my guests—but do not take with you the idea that you can ask away. When I look at you in a particular way, you should stop your line of thought for later. Period. As my guests, you can ask to the extent of what my powers are, but not how they work. Do experiments on me, take my DNA sample—and, I collect your hides. The Dome is architecturally designed to stand any situation regarding Earth’s calamities and severe conditions. It tops any model of the Post-Armageddon world. Its interior defines the golden rim of styles from the Pre-Armageddon Super Eon and so much more; the nanotechnology that I installed in the marvel surpasses any that has been built on Earth; the machinery behind the Dome’s moving parts is top secret—take the secret and I’ll take your lives. I can kill; I am not Terran. You may run away, for all I care. Since you’re guests, you are free to roam the Melancholy Forest, with its beasts and insects you have never encountered, without my company; you can stroll inside my home to the extent you borrow my toothbrush that I’ll never use again. But—do not go into the West Wing01. I will not kill you when you enter there; I will just burn your soul. I do not kid.” Q10’s words rang inside Abel’s head.
Weirder. Which was weirder? The first or the last?
Father Nightroad, do not extensively think through his words. They are very clear; we are to be mannered guests. That is all. He also has two sides; one is the phantasmagorical figure of tween youth stretched to great heights by accord of a high intelligence quotient; two is the manifestation of an adult figure astute by a responsible and stern point, relative to the high intelligence quotient.
According to my readings, your heart apparatus sped up by 0.12%; your sweat glands are excreting 0.02% of normal sweating rate. Relax, Father Nightroad. That way, we can assess the situation more clearly and benefit the mission’s advance in interrogating the party in question.” Tres stated across the hall. The echoes reverberating into the endless black by the far north end.
Abel smiled. “I’m sorry, Tres. I guess… I’m just startled that another person remembers something of the Pre-Armageddon world.”
0O28Was werden Sie in etwa, Vier-Augen?” Q10 phased through the wall just beside Tres. 0O29“Sie haben Unternehmen in diesem Raum-Eimer, nicht wahr?”
0O30“Ich weiß, wie zu sprechen Deutsch.” Abel countered. Putting his bottom lip up into a pout.
0O31Zurück auszuschalten, moron. Ich weiß, es ist nur die Grundfunktionen, dass Kraftstoffe.” Q10 growled. “Tres, I told you to keep an eye out for stupid animals.”
Shut up. Before you hurt yourself.” with a smile, he stopped Abel’s whine and took Tres’ right foot. He knelt down and inspected the damage done. “Looks like you really wanted to catch me…”
After a few more minutes, “Bee, get your useless butt down here!” he shouted without looking away from Tres’ ankle.
Yeah. What’s your problem now, bird-brain?” the dragonfly also phased through the right-side wall. “What is it that you—wow. Damage!”
You sound like—“ Abel tried to interrupt.
0O32“Σκάσε, χο bespectacled μία. Moronic σας είναι συμπληρωματικοί τρόποι για idiocy, δεν είναι η μηχανική ταχύτητα υδραυλικού.” Q10 didn’t even bat him an eye.
That’s it! What’s with you an calling me names!” Abel finally fumed. He was done with this kid’s games.
You understood what I said?” Q10 then whispered something to Bizzy and it took off, like it was to find something that holds the cosmos’ fate. “Don’t worry; that’s a normal speed. I like to get the items I request fast.”
No. I did not understand, but I can tell from your voice that you were mocking me.” Abel huffed. He was still standing from across the hall, by the entrance. Still, they could hear him because of the echoes.
Let’s see if you can understand this.” Q10 said, he readied himself with a deep breath.
The plane you were on had several violations:
Tres, if I may quote you: the vestige was not par to 1262-3860 health: maintenance code, including the pilot’s attire, and has violated several flight security protocols from 845 serial L to 6250 serial N. Another violation was of take-off: no. 686 (Roma). The glider’s Trademark Launch had been to haul the whole object by catapult toward 30 degrees North by Northeast for Desolate Area Code No. 115: San Van Gonza; the start speed of 40 miles per hour could have ripped the airlock off the launched airglider and may had put the three men aboard through a dangerous uncontrollable turbulence eventually leading to a plunge 140 feet above the highest grounds, approximately 50 feet above sea level. There was also the Animal Violation Code No. 468—an uncased pet aboard a public vehicle, especially in a flight. You didn’t even know that there was supposed to be a squirrel on board, or if it had had its shots.
Am I right? Or am I right?
Here’s the deal: Can you see the pattern? The plethora of numbers are then devised to have an ulterior meaning; 1262-3860 equals 2998 which is still divisible by two; 848-12 equals 836 another one divisible by two; 6250-14 equals 6246, which can also be distributed equally; 686 is also part of the chain, as well as 1+1+5+3+0, 40+50, 468. Even the first letter of the land you came from is even out into two when coded as a number! Every number, when added, sums to an even number. Every turn leads to a neutralization caused by the homeostasis of the scale between the numbers. Or, that is, they are divisible by two. This chain of happenings also has been reflected in real life simulations…Look at the first number in the sequence: 1262, that’s equal to ABEL: 1+2+5+12. 3860 is equal to 2018519 or TRES. 18 for T and 20 for R, in 28. 12 inverse is 21. 1+4 equals 5. Then, when turned into letters, they become U and E. When spelled, the letters make up the word TRUE. I will not elaborate in that matter, as it appears that you are now on the verge of questioning me on some other matters negligible of these facts.
All I can say is that… I am a GENIUS!!!” Q10’s speech ended with a triumphant roar as he picked up pieces of metal and what looked like oil-jelly around Tres. While he was busy explaining to Abel the ever constant twos shaking up the events around them, the two priests as its epicenter, he was tinkering away in upgrading the motionless cyborg. “Tres doesn’t need to shutdown. Interesting. Garibaldi has outdone himself with that feature… But still—he’s stupid. And, I have now improved his Hound.
Nah! I will just christen you Tres! With the new set of hydraulics, you’ve increased 6 inches in height; a synthetic skin which can insulate you and a companion within the heat of 3000 degrees Fahrenheit; stronger muscle lines made of elastic mono carbon fiber isotopes; and, servosystems rigs has been replaced by nanotechnologies, namely the Invent 42 and 64 nanomachines, when compiled conducts the natural rhythm imitated from the pulsation of the circulatory system, resulting in drive overdrive de-heating and faster and more accurate movement and deduction.” he rapidly spoke from debris to debris he picked up. “The work was worth it. Neh, Bizzy?”
In English…?” Abel found his voice harsh.
I took out the junk and replaced them with ingenious nanotech. The Cardinal’s decision precedes the paragon; you two are the eye of the storm, the epicenter affecting the earth. You get? Of course, you don’t, dander-head… You should recommend that woman to a psychiatrist. Caterina has issues about pairs, or the number two. A condition which may lead to arithmomania. Crazy Lady!” He stood up and inspected Tres’ extremities and was massaging his trunk.
There. Tres the Nano-Cyborg!” he exuberantly hailed. “You are only to be called Father Tres Iqus now—you are no machine as I have speculated when we first encountered.” He hefted Tres unto his own feet and ordered, “Tres, walk.”
Affirmative.” Tres said monotonously.
The used-to-be-limp father braced his feet firmly on the marble ground. He slowly paced the room with superb elegance unlike he had ever done in the numerous walks between the two priests. Abel was in awe; Tres looked like he was striding on thin air, or walking down feather-like clouds. Every step took the tanned man closer to the alabaster shocked Crusnik. Every step took an eternity to register in Abel’s brain, that it was really Tres strolling across the massive entrance hall and not a male model. Tres’ body poised itself flawlessly; all his parts conducted the symphony orchestra as it swooned, swaying his hips. The thoughts you get with spending time with Leon. He then looked down at the white floor, hoping that his skin wasn’t exhibiting the shades of red.
Wow. You’re good.” Abel blurted out.
Thank you. NOW, Tres is ready for any mission. Even balls in some distant land, with all the princesses, dukes, royalty… whatever! Tres, the gentleman. Nice… He won’t be acting like the rigid cyborg.” Q10 babbled innocently.
Abel blushed ten redder shades of red, each one redder than the last. “Oh… hehehe.”
Why are you blushing like a tomato?” Q10 asked without cynicism. He saw that the father was blooming like one in a sauna.
Father Nightroad, status report.” Tres ended Abel’s peace. He was standing in front of the gussied father; half-naked and a lot taller than what he used to be. The upgraded man has been relieved of the twin Jerichos and his Vatican robes and jacket; the tanned skin gleamed in the presence of light emanating from the ceiling although there was neither lightbulbs nor fluorescents above them. A violet haze started to spread on the rim of the ceiling-sky and put the atmosphere for a deep night sleep. Abel’s eyes were transfixed for a moment in time on a spot on Tres’ body.
Yo! Four-Eyes… up top. Not down low. ‘kay?” Q10 interjected.
Oh. I’m sorry, Tres. It’s just that… I have never seen you walk like that. Ever.” Abel wheezed.
Yeah, Four-Eyes! I’m better than that Garibaldi fellow.”
My hydraulics are just upgraded, father. It must have affected the synchronization of my body’s locomotion.” Tres stated.
Both of you, it’s time we hit the hay. I’ll escort you to your rooms. Tres, I need you to dress yourself. Abel, close your pie-hole. Gentlemen, we are to leave for our own beds by tonight, thank you very much.” Q10 commanded.

The accommodation Abel got was the whole enchilada; his room was in Baroque Style but with a tiled graphite floor and five humongous pictures decorating the five walls of the hexagon; on one side, there was this wall-sized window with a balcony which overlooked most of the east-western side of the Darklands. It was an amazing room; two bookshelves, five meters high and four meters wide, full of books dating back to the Greeks; a bed apparel of white satin and silk within the confines of a king-sized four-poster bed; all the furniture there was designed to fit around the room’s wall decor, like from the entrance hall. There was also the food! Marvelous food, glorious food; magical… food! There were pastries that Abel didn’t know existed and a tea so marvelously sweet, he only added two—or was it one and a half—teaspoons of sugar to it! It was living wonderland!
Enjoying your stay?” a phantom asked by the shadowy corridor. Abel was too at an awe to even busy himself with closing his own room’s door.
Huh?” Abel mumbled as he skimmed thorough an ancient book.
I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” the phantom said and closed the door behind him. Q10 walked over to the ginormous window. “Look, there’s the tree. The ginormous tree. It’s a good thing you two landed yourselves there. The creatures of this wood know how vast my territory is.”
Abel looked up. “Yeah. This is actually the first time I’ve seen it in its glory.” He saw that the tree really was gigantic. It was even more massive than the Vatican’s coliseum! And, to think, that this Dome was much more than that. Abel shuddered and wondered how big the Dome really was. “How big is this home of yours again?”
Q10 glanced back at him, but did not say a word. He started to head for the door.
Nightroad, I have already called you father once. I am not going to do it again. So please keep in mind that you are a priest and it will do you good to keep to yourself for this evening. I have a lot of thinking to be done; your stay here has been unexpectedly soon—I must make amends to the schedule and mechanisms of my home and my friends. They have A.I. but they need to know you a bit better than what you’ll give them.” Q10 said without looking at him, and continued his gait for the door. Once there he let Abel see his bowed profile. “Do not worry about Tres. I do not intend to fiddle with the Vatican nor the Empire. Your friend is fine; better—he has been upgraded hardware-wise. His software though… well, I’ll leave that to Professor.”
With that said, Q10 left the room closing the door behind him.
Abel wondered why the kid knew so much about the way things work Outside. And, the Vatican’s officers. He knew who he was—and that was spelling danger for everyone. Knowledge in the hands of the wrong people can be a weapon unheard of by all the years from before.

Author’s Note:
I hope this thing is good. I hoped to post it sooner but, a glitch occurred. I watched vids for hours. I will be posting two more chapters back-to-back after this as an apology for freaking out about my one-shot. I flooded my mail doing that. So I hope you guys enjoy the next chapters.
001-this plane is my life—sort of like a kiss from a woman with rouge lipstick.
002-remember the good old times?
003-Sir, please focus your attention on driving the airglider.
004-Yes. Yes.
005-Just one more question: your friend… is he Ok? I mean, we could get help when we arrive in Q10’s place.
006- Sir, who is this Q10?
007-Is it the witch the Vatican speaks of? Are you the trusted source of the Inquisition? More importantly, are you sanctioned and authorized by fealty to AX, to have this information?
009-that’s in the no-need-to-know basis
0010-I will tell… after we land this puppy!
0011-Better be true to your word, sir.
0013-Three… Two… One…
0014-Dude, chill… We’re not going to sink any further. Trust me; I’ve done this before... besides the glider’s mechanism has been built by a super genius.
0016-I have no idea how to spell that.
0017-The glider! It’s sinking!
0018-Positive. The vessel’s shock-absorbers are not adequate enough for the impact caused by a three-man net weight. Your airglider has the capacity to hold you, but not all three of us. We are the extra weight—pushing the limits of the shock-absorbers.
0019-Did it know we’re coming?
0020-First of all, don’t bad talk the kid. Second of all, don’t ask ‘till you know… neh?
0021-Sir, do you know of an identity with extreme capabilities? Which are in the forms of wizardry or witchcraft?
0022-Woowww… there. I think we should…
0023-You have vouched for interrogation during the flight.
0024-Alright. Q10 is actually Enigma Q10. She’s—
0025-Well, then… we need to discuss some matters about what you want and what I want.
0026-I was right in naming you the smart one.
0027-I will just get my tools; I will fix your friend, Four-Eyes—no—upgrade him. Whoever built him was stupid. No talent whatsoever. His parts and mechanics are useless pieces of junk!
0028-What are you going on about, Four-Eyes?
0029-You had company on that space-bucket, didn’t you?
0030-I know how to speak German.
0031-Back off, moron. I know it’s only the basic that fuels you.
0032-Shut up, oh bespectacled one. Your moronic ways are complimentary to idiocy not the mechanics in hydraulics velocity.

Insanely me ;)

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please and Thank You