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Enmity AmalgamA bright light, a
cloud covering the skies and spreading eerily outward in a
large plume of destruction that no man found solace in
witnessing. Perhaps the end of
existence for some, the dawning of a new reign of power to
others. An ever present wave of
obliteration that seemed to flatten everything within its
path. All the while a monotonous laugh, screeching out in a
maniacal tone from behind the debris, barely visible to the
naked eye, yet always there, always lingering just out of
sight. Denis would awaken, startled, and out of
breath. His skin being covered in a thin layer of sweat, as
his fingers groped around the surrounding area for some form
of comfort. The dank smell of the ally way would fill his
nostrils, reminding him of his current time and place and
the eventual realization that he was not within the hellish
citadel of his dreams. It had been three
years since his dreams had come into fruition and placed him
within this nightmarish scape, though through all those
years he had not found the courage to face his fears.
Instead, he merely lingered about the landscape of a once
fertile land, in hope that he would one day die. Though his
cowardly ways had even prevented him from speeding this into
reality, for even the solace of death seemed out of grasp
for one willing not to embrace it by taking his own life. The nuclear
fallout had made this land impossible to farm, and even
meaningless to save. People had rumored that the majestic
savior known as the Warrior Guyver had freed this land
sometime ago, but Denis hadn’t seen evidence of this. It was
still the perpetual hell hole he had come to call home.
People didn’t roam the streets freely anymore. The only form
of human contact one such as himself would have, would be
the occasional passer-by. This didn’t matter though, nothing
mattered anymore. Not since the loss of his family, and
those infernal concentration camps the remainder of his
siblings were forced into, had anything mattered. Some would say that his ways were forever
doomed in redundancy, though most would just over look him,
spit on him, kick him, and scoff at him as they passed by,
his apparent dispossessed self not even worth a second
glance by the odd passerby. In these last years he had
learned to cope, scavenging dumpsters for the meager
supplements of food he could find, even resulting to
cannibalism at points, the dead seeming a nourishing meal at
times when no other substances could be obtained. Today was no
different, he would lift him self from the refuge of years
gone past, and shrug aside his news paper linens, greeting
the blackened sky with a nod, and a mournful grimace. It had
been years since the skies of Chronos had
invaded the Denis was among the lucky; he was born
within the Northern portion of this fair land, and likewise
was spared immediate eradication. Though this elegant escape
would not be secured, Chronos would rage ever onward,
placing “bio-engineering” plants throughout the sector, in
hopes of increasing their strangle hold on this portion of
the world. These thoughts were fleeting of course,
just something one would dwell on as they brushed the sleep
from their eyes, and dusted off their pants trying to make
ready for a new day. Denis would even attempt to lick his
lips in this time of unrest, trying to place a few droplets
of moister on their parched surface, but to no avail. It had
been days since he had found any drinkable liquids, and the
last fluid he was able to consume appeared to be somewhat
eradiated. It was of no concern; he would have to press on,
to strive for a better tomorrow, and his eventual death. *** Two men would walk down an elongated
corridor, hushed and silent within step. Long flowing capes,
within the tinge of golden weaves, would follow them in
their steed, as a myriad of servants dashed to and fro,
attempting to answer their every need. These predominant men
would stand side by side in their forward march. Both men
would appear to be the same height, holding the same hair
style, as well as physique. They were the ultimate specimens
in human evolution, if you would choose to call it that. The
only notable difference between the two would be a
difference of hue within their hair color, the man on the
right appearing to be a blonde in nature, whilst the man on
the left had an awkward blue tint to his mane. Both men would pause within step
simultaneously, turn within foot, and dismiss the servants
as though to talk amongst themselves. Their ever elongated
capes being caught within their movements as they turned to
continue their stride, until coming upon an opening within
the antechamber, as though the corridor would become
compromised and forced to relinquish its form to a massive
conservatory. Simultaneously the men would lift their
fingers to undo clasp upon the delicate escarpment of their
dress, and dispose of the capes as they tuned to face one
another. Massive crystalline structures appeared to be
embedded within either forehead. Our fair-haired fellow’s
crystal alternating in hue from green’s to opaque blues,
while the cerulean haired man’s gemstone would shine forward
with but one lingering tint of green. A simplistic nod would
suggest a like minded bond, as both crystals began to
reminisce within brilliant colors. Deviated retrospect’s of thoughts would
linger at this moment, as the men would address one another
by their given names, though not within plain English, but
within a dialect of telepathy. The fair-haired man would be
boisterous within this mind speech, addressing his comrade
in arms first, “Donald Golden...” a pause would be given so
that the matching male would have time to give a response.
“Daniel Aureus…” both men would pause at this point,
lowering their heads as the crystalline structures began to
glow within mirrored frequencies, a thin layer of light
interceding between both parcels.
“This
has been a long time approaching my dear friend. For too
long have we hovered under the heels of the Elite, only to
be stomped upon each time a failure was observed within our
given sector.” Aureus would pronounce. “Though I am well
aware of the circumstances at hand, I am not sure it would
be the best course of action to act against the interest of
the 12. They are a very powerful lot indeed, and would
surely slay us if they heard of your insecurities in their
actions...” Golden would remark in that same non-vocal
manner. A shift within
stance, on the part of Aureus, would disengage the direct
link between the mirrored crystals. He would do nothing but
shake his head in disgust at his companion. For so long had
they planned this day, and now that the majority of Chronos
forces were occupied in Yet Golden was acting cowardly, he was
fearful of the 12, and who wouldn’t be. Though born within
the same pronounced bio-engineering chambers, the two were
nothing alike psychologically, designed within the basis of
experimentation; Aureus and Golden were to be a perfect
match. Formed to interact with one another, and thereby
increase their own potential ten fold through this
interaction. They were barely over overlord standards apart,
but together they could easily overcome a disciple Zoalord.
Though only prototype forms themselves, they had always
strived to be something more. “My dear brother Golden, can you not see
that now is the time to strike. That this is our only chance
to make a name for ourselves, and perhaps be processed to a
higher form of evolution? How long do you think it will be
before we are sent after one of the Guyvers and put to our
death?! How long before the inevitability of our demise is
brought into fruition?!” Aureus would plead, this time
within an earthen texture of vocalization. Golden would be forced to counter this
invasive persuasion the best he could “My dear Aureus, don’t
you see that if we act against them, they will destroy us?”
Golden would turn to face his brother at this point,
reaching out with longing hands in an attempt to embrace the
façade of idealism, though such acts would go unnoticed. “I
will not be forced to live out my existence in obscurity
brother, if that means the death of you then so be it..!”
Aureus would respond furiously. His fingers balling within
the formation of fist, as eradiated sectors of light pooled
about them, gathering psychokinetic forces to amend his
might. “Do not force me to end our relationship so
brutally.” A muttered proverb, embraced with an upturned
head, and an augmentation of situated place. Aureus would
turn to face Donald Golden, attempting to make him realize
the futility of his repudiation. A forced nod and the lifting of the eyes
to meet Aureus’ mirrored spectacles, as an elongated
expression of remorse would spread maw to force an audible
response “Very well Aureus, we will do things your way….”
And that was that. *** Hours later in a Fingers would be possessed by will and
placed upon the chin of Golden, as he contemplated the
actions they were to take. His eyes dashing over to his
brother, as those majestic blue spectacles locked on the
ornamentation of his armor. How magnificent it was,
interlaced in the most precious metals known to man,
shimmering in the moonlight as though some grand treasure of
the night. “Daniel, I do not sense your forces in this
sector, are you sure they are loyal to your cause?” Previously frustrated by the
insubordinate actions of his younger sibling, Aureus could
barely take the brash harassment any longer. His mirrored
blue eyes would seem to evaluate the ground far below,
before altering in coloring to a pale white, even the iris
forced into this companionship of prosaic form. “They will
be here… It is not yet time for their arrival…” spoke
Aureus. An arm would outstretch, as digits interjected and
forced their way within the formation of a fist, all but one
would hold within this harmony, as the index fell
outstretched as though to point. “Look, even now they
arrive.” Abnormalities within the contextual
reference of spatiotemporal conflict allowed for the
transition of two parcels of space to interact as one. A
flaming circle would appear within a shimmering cobalt hue,
encircled in a dazzled formation of sparks, darker than the
aforementioned color. It would span but 10 feet in radius,
and out from it would pour masses of grotesque creatures. A
myriad of separate forms, numbering in the hundreds, would
huddle within this specific area, as though awaiting a
commandment from their god. Then it would happen, not with a
murmur or a gallant display of special effects, instead with
but the formation of a hand within this rift. Arms would be
repositioned within the air, tangling themselves above a
chest as though to close ones self off from the admiration
of defiance. Golden wished no part of this, yet was forced
into it by Aureus. If only he had the will to reach out and
contact Alkanfel, than perhaps he would have the ability to
prevent these travesties from occurring. No matter, for even
know Aureus was glowing with the renditions of a smile, so
apt it seemed to cover the entirety of his face. “He has
arrived my brother.” exclaimed Aureus. Donald would be
forced to hold back his detestation of his current
predicament for the time being. From but the extension of a
forearm would the grandeur of this specter be felt, for even
the brothers would kneel before this force, this majesty
known as Warrior Guyver 5. A lithe yellow form would step forward,
clad in bio-organic armor that was fabled to be nearly
impenetrable. Blades brandished both elbows and wrist alike,
as a centralized medallion, within the center of his
forehead, seemed to bubble out in a whimsy of photonic merry
making. Its quadrangle surface forged within a crystalline
metallic, an almost mythical substance at best. Sensory
orbs, set in place within various allocated slots, would
whirl into action, finding the presence of two Prototype
Zoalords but twenty thousand feet over head. A smirk would
erode over his conscious visage as his eyes would mimic the
coordinates relayed to him by the sensory orbs. From within the
heavens the Brothers would lower themselves earth bound,
pausing but 20 feet from the surface, and allowing their
heads to fall within a simultaneous bow. Warrior Guyver 5
stared onward, contemplating the actions which were to be
taken in this effort. “Ah, comrade Aureus; comrade Golden,
it is good of you to meet with me in such a timely manner.”
announced Lorcan, attempting to
press past the insecurities of his current mission. “We must
act in haste if we are to complete this undertaking before
Chronos becomes aware of our actions.” “We are well aware of the time table,
Guyver.” Aureus would condemn, lifting his right hand as
thought to ball his fingers into a fist before continuing;
“Perhaps it best if we discussed the state of affairs that
have brought us to this confrontation, before continuing in
ill conceived alacrity.” Leagues of zoanoids, surrounding Lorcan,
would kneel in unison, falling before their Gods in tribute.
A Zencrebe class hyper zoanoid would be the first to lift
from this state of kneeling, his head lifting to stare upon,
if only the feet, of his Gods. He would address them on
behalf of the others. “I am Zencrebe MZ-019D7, the
commanding officer of this battalion. I speak for the masses
set before you, and on their behalf, we are here to serve.” “Very well
Zencrebe, your forces will be honored by their
contributions.” noted Golden, as Aureus descended to the
ground but five feet from Lorcan, his massive cape still
shifting within the heavens as he situated himself. “What
news do you have on the confrontation in Lorcan would lift his head from the
subtle bow, allowing his ocular ridges to compress as a
single shard of light escaped his control medallion. It was
as though he was in contact with another sensory probe,
attempting to be brought up to date on the current status of
the conflict. His brows would ease their flare, as a gentle
tone would flood out in the form of speech, though augmented
by a mechanized tone. “Both master Zoalords appear to be
absent from the battle field. The majority of the Chronos
forces are still occupied in maintaining their position
relative to the ACTF regiments.”
Lorcan
paused for a moment, shifting his head to the left slightly
before continuing. “They appear to be at an advantaged for
the time being. I believe they will be indisposed for some
time longer.” Upon finishing this statement, Lorcan
positioned himself within a pose of full attention, awaiting
further remarks from the proto-type Zoalords. Golden stared onward from behind the
fray, still hovering within the skies, attempting to
ascertain the directives of protocol that had led him here.
If it wasn’t for Aureus, would he be standing before this
group, prepared to jump head first into a conflict that had
no concept of conclusion. Though it had been a twisted road
up to this point, Aureus had assured him that they would
gain respect amongst the Elites if they were able to
accomplish this task. At first the information was only hinted
at. Rumors whispered here and there of a Chronos operative
going missing after the nuclear explosions in California and
the fact that Chronos was believed to have dedicated a vast
number of resources to ascertain to whereabouts of this
missing operative. Golden would have
shrug off these tittle-tattles if not for the fact that
Aureus had acquired the information and forced him into a
more complex investigation. They would start by gathering
evidence, finding out exactly when, where, and why the
operative was in the region in the first place. Though at
first the results of this inquiry where little to nothing, a
key piece of evidence would come to light, that would lead
them here. The discovery that this man, this whore of
Chronos, had discovered something of immeasurable wealth: a
Guyver unit.
Since that time,
they were able to establish the last known location of the
operative, which lead them here, to Not until two
days ago, when a massive war relic crashed in Donald Golden tried to put these thoughts
behind him, try to forget that just by going against the
will of the twelve, one would quickly sign his or her own
death warrant. As these thoughts ceased their monotonous
quarrels within his mind, Aureus would speak out, addressing
Warrior Guyver 5. “Since you’re sensory perception is among
the most advanced within this legion, we will count on you
to comment our gathered forces into its most efficient form
possible.” “Very well comrade, I agree with your
suggestion but lest we forget why I am here in the first
place?” Lorcan would note stretching out his right hand,
palm open, as though expecting deliverance of some form. Aureus engaged a form of mental telepathy
with his consort, both of their Zoa-Crystals fluctuating
within a wide variety of photonic radiation. The luminosity
ceased followed by an overt response. “Ah yes Guyver, your
payment. We don’t stray far from our pot of gold, do we my
little leprechaun friend? As you know, money has no monetary
value within this world. Only power means anything now, but
power is something you already have, and in a rather high
abundance.” The Zoalord paused, adjusting the clasp of his
cape before continuing “We have discussed my method of
payment in the past Guyver, and it has not changed. May I
remind you that payment is upon completion of the task at
hand?” questioned Aureus. Lorcan’s hand snapped backwards, falling
to his side as the sensory orbs continued to rove about
within their allocated slots, making a sort of annoying
“squish” noise as they moved. “I do not appreciate sarcasm
Zoalord; do not tempt me to end this mutually beneficial
relationship on such mundane grounds.” Lorcan’s head lowered
as he completed this phrase, his own characterizations only
allowed so much repartee before he lost his tempter. Aureus smirked as he turned his back on
the Warrior Guyver, sauntering away from the confrontation
with a little bounce to his step… “Very well Guyver, but do
not fail us.” The Zoalord paused within stride, pivoting his
neck so that but one sapphire optic would steady upon
Lorcan. “We will observe from above, and serve as a
communications relay point between the teams, as well as
maintain a centralized observation point. Is this
understood?” Aureus taunted in a tone of mockery and
distaste. Warrior Guyver 5 would reply with but a nod. Lorcan was sharp, focused, responsible,
organized, and ruthless. Everything about his days as a
mercenary had prepared him for a role of leadership. He was
the best amongst his men, and earned respect not only by his
vast amount of experience, but also his prowess within
combat. He was cruel to a certain respect, but today, he was
merely out to make a figurative “buck”. The zoanoids all about him awaited
orders, while the Zoalords were their gods, he was their
leader. Still they remained within their bow, awaiting the
order that allowed them to regain their footing. The vast
army of zoanoids only amounted to one hundred and fifty
monstrously mutated men. Through their numbers they would
accomplish the task, and earn the furthered respect of the
leader, as well as their gods. Though this action would not
be sanctioned by the ruling forces of Chronos, these
zoanoids were of no use to them now, except perhaps the
defensive of some abandoned town. Where better to send a
battalion of useless nothings, but under the control of two
pathetic prototype Zoalords. “Zencrebe, move your forces over to the
east side of the city.” Lorcan ordered. Zencrebe nodded,
rising to his feet as he beckoned the rest of his squad to
accompany him. The massive grey zoanoid would await further
orders before implementing Warrior Guyver 5’s instructions. “Declasse you
will take your squadron to the north sector; Minodlius you
will proceed to the central sector; Gepteyn take the south;
and Noskov’s squadron will cover the west, you will be
supplied with the instruments required to track the bio
organic material within question.” announced Lorcan as he
turned to face the masses of his men. “This sensory
instrumentation will only work within a proximity of 20
meters. Is this understood?” Lorcan commanded, bracing his
arms behind his back, grappling his right hand with his
left, his ocular ridges slightly elevated. The Zoanoids now
all stood to their feet, keeping their heads within the
position of a bow as an affirmative grunt was pressed
forward by the masses. “Good.” Lorcan commended.
*** Another day, another pathetic attempt to
survive in this waste land, something had to give. Denis
Reedy had watched his friends transformed into monstrous
beast called Zoanoids, and work at the side of those who had
wished to enslave them. He couldn’t imagine how people, who
embraced the ideal of freedom so blindly, could so easily
follow a Shepard of constraint. Yet, even through all these
horrors and tribulations, Denis found himself without the
will to fight back. He merely hid in the shadows, living day
to day. The nightmares were a constant thing
these days, he couldn’t remember the last time the images of
the event hadn’t haunted him at night. Today he was spared,
he had awoke before the climax of the nightmare, and thusly
saved himself the imagery. Vagrants would pass before him, burned
and burdened by the blast, searching for some meager meal,
or perhaps just a drug to relive their frustrations.
Everyone had their drug of choice, if it wasn’t one of these
new radiation deprived substances, it was the familiar olds;
crack, coke, heroin, crank; whatever rowed your boat. Denis
though was one of those rarities. Though he had abused a few
substances in the past, he was such an underdog these days
that he couldn’t hope to get his hands on anything hard
enough to take the pain away. A discarded
aluminum can would cross his path, as a smirk enveloped his
cracked lips. Had it been so long since something had
reminded him of the past, a time before this horror, before
this perpetual nightmare, that something as simple as a can
could relieve his melancholy? He kicked it, watching as it
flew into the air, tossing in the unseen currents, a simple
memento of a time long past… One where he was, dare he think
it, happy. His eyes would return to the ground
before him, locked on the pavement, and away from the refuge
of humans that ran about him. Vaguely he heard the can’s
decent ring out, not with the clank he expected, but rather
with a dull thud, as though it had come into contact with
some organic object. His eyes lifted to greet this unexpected
event, cowardly as ever, a stalled glance that shivered
through his spine with each encroaching inch. At first, but
the arrangements of flesh, a toe, but one that was far from
human. Then texture yielding to the familiarities of course
scales, and embedded within this surface, a gnarled nail,
jagged, and ever so grotesque in appearance. Denis could almost remember what they
called it, what this monster was; but more so, he was
confronted by the fact that this thing had killed, mutated,
and destroyed his family. That they would have done the same
thing to him had he not found a way to escape, and the only
thought that ran through his head was that he had to get
away, and as quickly as one possibly could. It was common for Denis to turn tail and
run at the slightest provocation, but this was not one of
those average encounters. No, this was something far more
frightening, a nine foot tall monster, staring him in the
eyes, but feet away. He knew what it was, he knew it was the
one they called Gregole, and he knew he had to run if he
wished to live, and run he did. He ran as fast as he could,
for as far as he could. His efforts weren’t helped by the
fact that he was malnutrition, dehydrated, and ever so
frail. Denis only made it about half a mile
before his legs gave out on him, but the Zoanoid wasn’t
there for him. It had come for a more precious object, which
was beyond its comprehension of power; it had come for the
Guyver Unit. Half a mile from
his last location, and Denis would collapse, grasping at his
heaving chest, and attempting to gasp for the few molecules
of oxygen that still existed within It wouldn’t help though; his fear had
gripped him so significantly that he couldn’t relinquish its
hold. From that point he would turn, alleviating his palm
from the surface of the brick wall, and slam his back
against its textured surface, allowing him to slide down it.
Tears streamed from out his eyes, rolling down his cheeks
and dripping down his chin. Denis’ fingers would clench,
balling into fist that would be used to lash out at him in
hate. They thrashed out against his face in rage and
disgust, hoping, just hoping that he could beat away the
demons. Blood and tears mixed, blotting his
clothes with little crimson droplets, his pain imbedded in
the fabric of his clothes. Those same fingers would desist,
falling to the ground and raping its surface, tearing at his
finger nails until they almost peeled off. How could he have
ran, why couldn’t he fight back? It shouldn’t matter, but
maybe, just maybe that bastard would have killed him and
then he wouldn’t have to wake up tomorrow, or ever again. It was growing late and Denis had
experienced enough for today. It was time to sleep, time to
rest, time to forget, and as always, to remember all over
again. He lowered himself to the ground slumping against the
wall to its most minimal height. His hand washed against his
face, brushing away the day’s tears, as it sloppily slid
over his clothes, trying to relinquish his shame within his
tattered garments. Denis’ eyes would sweep right, catching a
glimpse of one of the dead. It wore a fine coat, which for
some reason hadn’t been picked off by the filth of the city.
Within a cold nuclear winter one always had to be on the
lookout for something warm to force away the cold. Yet this
man had been allowed dignity, and still held onto his fine
attire, though not for much longer. Denis Reedy stood to his feet, staggering
to the left and bracing himself against that same brick
wall. His feet dragged beneath him as he struggled to take
each step. His shoulders somewhat slouched, his eyes drowsy
with the remnants of tears. As he neared reaching distance
he slipped from the wall, and fell forward. Stopping his
impact with the asphalt ground below was his main task, his
arms bracing him just before his face was to be ground into
the tatters of the pavement. Slowly he crawled forward,
reaching out with his right arm, as it shivered under the
strain and anticipation, and grappled the fabric trying to
pull it free from the man. It wouldn’t budge, and in his efforts, he
had repositioned the corpse, so that a beam of moonlight
would strike against its face. Disfigured and grotesque,
deformed by radiation burns, he must have been caught within
the initial blast. Denis would falter, frightened and
flailing backwards, trying to get as far away from this
thing as possible. The visions were haunting him again. The
screams from his dreams following him into the conscious
world, people dying, burned and yelling out for a God that
would never hear their pleas to be released. He was forced to shake off the feeling,
tearing at his face with both hands. His finger nails
shredding gashes deep within his flesh. He had to have
warmth, but could he persist? He tried to convince himself
that it didn’t matter, though it might not have worked, he
strived on, and crawled back up to the body. Denis nearly
vomited by the smell and sight. The blisters and boils upon
this charred flesh, and the partially exposed bone were
something that no one could ever get used to. Fingers would
roam over this skin, right under the chin, slamming the face
back so that he would not be forced to peer upon it as he
completed this task. A gentle snap would be heard, and perhaps
the texture of living skin scraping against the dead man’s
epidermis. Denis would fidget, turning his head away so that
he wouldn’t have to see what he feared until the point it
was safe to look. Once the head was out of his eyesight,
mostly, he would pursue his prize, gripping the man’s arm so
that he could tug the coat from its constraint. Through this
course of heaving and jerking the arm of the coat would be
partially released from the arm. Through closer observation
Denis would notice that the coat itself was in tattered, and
though it wouldn’t facilitate much warmth, perhaps it would
be enough to block out a little bit of the winds harsh bite. Through these actions, Denis would
discover an object that was somewhat out of place. Hidden
beneath the right arm of the deceased man was a large
organic object, about the size of a serving plate. A smile
formed over his lips, something new, something strange, and
something that no one else had. He had never seen an object
like this before in his entire life, he knew it had to
valuable. It had a strange metallic orb situated within the
center of its structure; the rest was harder to make out in
vague moon light. He would have to pull it out and
investigate it further; if he was to properly evaluate its
worth. Fingers groped and prodded about the dead
man, trying to get a better grasp on the object that he
clutched so dearly within his final grasp. Denis tore it
away from him, pulling a portion of the deceased’s left
appendage with him. The force of the encounter was so great
that the exertion had caused Denis to lose his balance and
fall backward, object in hand. It all happened so quickly; the man with
the coat, the need to stay warm, the object inside, its
quickened release, and his fall, oh the fall, but it wasn’t
over yet. Just as Denis impacted the ground, object clutched
in both hands before him, he had noticed the structure set
in front of him, and the fact that it was far more alien
than he had originally gauged, and the fear gripped him,
stronger than it ever had before. Then it hit him, no not
the realization that he was in over his head, but the
metallic sphere in the center of the object. *** Within the heavens, but fifteen thousand feet from the surface of the earth, hovered two enigmatic figureheads known as Aureus and Golden. They peered down from this mainstay of observation, trying to direct the search effort to the best of their abilities. Though at this point in time, they would discern a malformation of energy fields within the North east sector of the city. Both Zoalords would reposition themselves within the sky. Aureus taking off in the direction of the anomaly, while Golden dove ever downward towards the surface below. Aureus would telepathically contact the Zoanoids in this quadrant, trying to affirm his speculation that an unknown variable had come into the mix. “Declasse, scan the area in question…” at this point the telepathic communication would be augmented by the conveyance of a map within the mind of the zoanoid, pointing out the exact coordinates of the disturbance. “…And relay your findings back to me.” Aureus would convey telepathically to the bio-blaster type zoanoid. The massive Bio-Blaster type Zoanoid would raise his stance from a hobbled slouch, lifting his eyes to the heavens in an attempt to observe his god within movement, but to no avail. “Yes my lord.” Declasse would pronounce. This Zoanoids armored form seeming ordainmented with various armored protrusions. His head being incased in a layer of other worldly spikes, as his hands appeared to hold an arrangement of claws, inlayed within these structures would be organic lenses meant to focus its own bio-kinetic energy into a formidable “bio-laser”. The lumbering form of the zoanoid moved onward, as repercussions of the discovery continued to work their way across the network of investigators. Aureus continued his communications, attempting to ascertain the location of Warrior Guyver 5. He reached out telepathically with various groupings of zoanoids, seeing through their eyes as to discover the whereabouts of this elusive warrior. His efforts though would be in vain, for before he could determine the location of the Warrior Guyver, Lorcan would contact the Zoalords via one of the zoanoids in his direct proximity. A Gregole class zoanoid contacted Golden via its own telepathic link. “Lord Golden, Warrior Guyver 5 has detected the activation of a Guyver unit within the area.” The creature paused, awaiting a response from its God. Golden shifted within his position, allowing his advanced Zoalord eyes to zoom in on the region in question as he relayed the information just presented to him to Aureus. Within mid flight Aureus paused, allowing the whole of the intelligence to sink in, before coming to the awful realization that they were too late. Aureus zoomed earthbound, his golden cape shimmering in the moon beams as he descended. He landed but 10 meters from Warrior Guyver 5, allowing for his cape to come at rest behind him before engaging the Guyver in conversation. During this time the masses of zoanoids surrounding Lorcan would all fall within a massive bow, relinquishing their pride before their god. Once the cape had come to a rest, the Zoalord would speak up. “Guyver, are these claims true, did you truly sense the activation or our prize?” Aureus vacillated. Lorcan turned within stance, allowing him to face the prototype Zoalord. If the Guyver truly had been activated, then perhaps he would not receive payment… this would not do. “I can not be sure comrade Aureus, further investigation is required.” Lorcan paused, lifting his right armored hand up to his chin, as to contemplate the repercussions of this action. “One thing is for sure though, if I sensed it, so did every other Guyver across the globe. Our time grows truly short.” Muttered Warrior Guyver five as he took off into the sky, aided by his gravitational control orb. Aureus would look nearly dumb founded as he stared upward at the departing Warrior Guyver. He thought to himself that the Guyver must be recovered in due haste if their plans were to be achieved, and thusly… “Guyver, search out and destroy this newly birthed unit, but save the control medallion for me.” Aureus announced. Lorcan turned within mid flight, allowing himself to hover within the air, his right leg raised within a bend, as the left stayed fully extended. “Very well comrade Aureus. I’m guessing he is but a moment away from this location.” Lorcan noted as he turned away from the Zoalord and continued on his previous flight path. *** A frantic search would be engaged, masses of Zoanoids searching the North East sector of the City. Zencrebe’s forces were one of these squadrons. Though a born leader, Zencrebe had found himself within turmoil at the time of the Chronos invasion. Being unable to cope with the down fall of his civilization, he turned on himself psychologically, and joined forces with those that wished to enslave him. Today was just another testament to his wrong doings, as he was forced to seek out an item of extreme value for one of those murderous dogs known as Zoalords; his entire Battalion seeming nothing more than a tool for the mighty “Gods”. Two Gregole types stood before him, as well as an accompaniment of three Vamores, and Four Ramotiths. It was within an enclosed set of walls, a space between buildings, which they were to search next, that this Zencrebe would truly find his fate. The sensory device Zencrebe held within hand began to make weird beeping noises, as though it had detected the presence of the organic structure Zencrebe was forced to hunt. His spinney figure rose to full attention as he pivoted his waist and peered back at the two Gregole types. If this was truly a Guyver, he was not going to be the first to die. “Gregoles make your way into the ally and investigate whatever is setting off the device.” Zencrebe would order as the two green zoanoids gave but a nod and headed into the darkness. A loud clash was heard, along with the screams of monsters that are not meant to emit such sounds. Could it be? Was the Guyver truly here? Zencrebe concentrated his thoughts, reaching out to the prototype Zoalord known as Golden, but just as he was about to make contact with this “god” something strange happened, he felt a sharp sensation through his abdominal area, as though a blade had pierced his impenetrable flesh, and bore all the way through it. The pain was immense, as well as the realization that he would soon die. His eyes swept downward, attempting to focus on a protrusion through his stomach. It was a curved blade, which seemed to be humming as a shimmering current of crimson ran down the Zencrebe’s legs. The massive zoanoid fell forward, the humming blade slipping from its orifice, as the stranger that had embedded it their slipped from sight. Screams of pain flowed freely from the lumbering form of Zencrebe, as his fingers gripped the wound, hoping that the injury wasn’t fatal. He turned onto his back, still reeling from the pain; he would then notice the lack of the rest of his forces. The Vamores and Ramotiths were laying on the ground, dissolving in a mass of puss and ooze. Had this creature been so quick as to dispatch his troop of zoanoids so swiftly? Blood would stream from out the Zencrebe’s lips, as his head fell backward, the pain now over whelming him. His armored eyes would peer upward, and into the shadows, just in time to see a flash of light. The discharge of photons could be none other than a Guyver. He remembered the tales told by so many of his kind. That massive blinding light, that sped out in the form of a circle. It would be the last thing he saw, for the unknown creature would allow the humming blade to slice through his skull, thusly ending his existence. His death wouldn’t go unnoticed though, for within that last moment of lucidness he would cry out to his Gods, hoping that one of them would hear him. *** Aureus hesitated within further flight, still situated amongst a grouping of lower level Zoanoids. His eyes searching around the vast army as an influx of thought would bereave him of his current concentrations. It was Zencrebe, calling out in his final moment as though to warn the Zoalord of something… But what this warning entailed was still unknown. Aureus would search the final images of this beast, trying to allocate the danger that had won this mighty hyper zoanoid his death. Through the interpretation of mental images would the Zoalord locate the hazard that had so easily slain the hyper zoanoid. It was clearly defined, the formation of the circular radiance, the humming gestations of a swiping blade. This thing could be none other than a Guyver. Aureus lifted himself into the air via manipulation of gyro kinetics. His hands being enshrouded in various regions of his cape, as the fabric twisted and turned within the heavens. Glowing spectacles would relay his rage, as he soared onwards towards the last known coordinates of the Zencrebe. His assault would be put on hold though, for as he shimmered onward over unforeseen currents of air and gravity, Golden spoke out to him, warning him of his transgressions. “Brother, though I know you are powerful, not even you would be so foolish in his ability as though to combat an unknown Guyver without further intelligence. Would it not be best if we sent in a test subject to ascertain the abilities of the Guyver, before running in blindly against the beast?” Golden conveyed telepathically as Aureus paused within mid flight to contemplate these words. “Very well brother, we shall send in our own Guyver and see which is victorious in this endeavor.” proclaimed Aureus before teetering within the skies and zooming in the direction of Warrior Guyver 5. Upon locating Lorcan, Aureus would land, focusing his cerulean spectacles to fixate on the ground below, before allowing them to raise and contest Warrior Guyver 5’s own armored eyes. The Zoalord would relinquish his hold on his cape as he stepped towards the mighty Guyver, rapidly conveying his angst over the current predicament. “My fair Guyver, Zencrebe was rapidly dispatched by our new adversary. I have thusly gained the last known coordinates of our “hyper” friend, and am now giving you the accolade of defeating this preposterous personage.” The smug remark seemed to unease Lorcan, as his shimmering amber form turned away from the Zoalord, his arms crossing before his chest as those fabled ocular ridges compressed. “Very well Zoalord…” Lorcan would grumble as he elevated himself into the air and took off at a remarkable pace in the direction of the last known coordinates of the Zencrebe. Within the heavens Lorcan came to the realization that if this Guyver was able to dispatch a hyper zoanoid of Zencrebe’s attributes so viciously, that perhaps it stood a fair chance against his own warrior Guyver strength. This could not be a good thing, for even now he was but a quarter mile from possible annihilation. How was he to combat something he had no experience with? The Zoalord brothers had theorized that the Guyver was nothing more than a standard, but what are the theories of adolescent Zoalords compared to actual reality? Though these thoughts and more streamed through Lorcan’s mind, he would have to press them aside and continue with the battle ahead. Someplace within the dark and dank ally way set before him was the devastation that had caused an entire troop of Zoanoids to disappear in less time than it took for them to report back that one of them had fallen. Hyper sensory orbs atop Lorcan’s head whirled into action, swirling within their allocated slots as their observed the shadows within this sanitarium. Armored eyes appeared to squint, as the formation of shaped came into focus. It was a Guyver alright, though its shade escaped him at this point. The silhouette stood tall, unmoved and un-irritated. Perhaps the host was still within an “out of control” form, basing its actions off of the control medallion alone. The Guyver within the shadows shifted its stance as Lorcan stepped forward, leaping at the wall and crawling up as though it was some form of spider attempting to scale its own web. Warrior Guyver 5 smirked as the beast climbed, knowing that perhaps this would be his last test, his final atonement for all those wrong doings he had done in his life. It didn’t matter though, he was a Warrior Guyver, and this thing, to the best of his knowledge, was nothing more than a standard. Lorcan leaped forward and into the air, utilizing the gravitational control orb to steer him in the direction of this unknown. Though while within mid flight, he was shocked to find that the creature had coordinated its efforts in an attempt to have him follow it. For not even twenty feet into the air would Lorcan experience his first shock, as the Guyver descended upon him from the left, shoulder first. Its force augmented by the use of some form of mass density increasing instrumentation, which allowed it to quickly knock the Warrior Guyver off course. Lorcan moved accordingly, allowing himself to shift to his right axis as both arms fell downward towards the point of impact as though to grapple this other Guyver. His fingers would quickly search for the control medallion, as his head beam fired three shots in less time than it took for him to locate the medallion. Aided by the sensory orbs these shots would aim in succession for the armored eyes of his adversary, but to no avail. For as the laser like beam rushed outwards, it would be countered by a slightly less intense beam that’s only purpose was to alienate the aim of Lorcan’s head beams. Struggling within this turmoil of flight, Lorcan finally found his prize, but not in time, for as he located the control medallion, both parties would slam into a wall, destroying the structure, but pressing both of them in opposite directions. The combatants would rise to their feet, Lorcan wiping off a portion of grit from his sonic oscillators with his left hand as the unknown Guyver charged forward, brandishing four forward facing high frequency blades, in a format of two blades being held on either forearm. Warrior Guyver Five would match this intensity by slamming his hands forward in a brazen motion that freed both forward facing vibrational swords, as well as both reverse facing blades. The two warriors then charged head on at one another. The unknown unit only reached a speed of about one hundred and fifty miles per hour, while Lorcan mustered a velocity of two hundred and thirty miles per hour. Lorcan would raise his forward facing swords to conflict with the two forward facing blades of the unknown unit. Their tangle allowing for Lorcan’s blades to intermingle between both swords of the other Guyver; they would both hold this position for a moment, struggling for leverage. Both Guyvers would press with all their might, attempting to bedazzle the next with their superior strength. Though Lorcan was a Warrior Guyver, it appeared he was nearly at a disadvantage. Through trial an error, he would be able to force the newly arisen Guyver back, bearing down on him with all his strength until the other unit fell to one knee. At this point Lorcan raised his left knee and allowed it to trail through the air until it come into contact with the chin of this other Guyver, slamming the other unit’s head back so that it was forced to dislodge its precarious form from the Warrior Guyver’s grasp. The force was enough to knock the Guyver back five feet before it was able to situate itself via manipulation of graviton particle fields. The newly arisen Guyver allowed itself to be righted just in time to see Lorcan bearing down on it. It would yet again raise its vibrational swords in hope of warding off this wrong doer, but to no avail, for Lorcan’s plans didn’t involve hand to hand combat at this point in time. As the unknown Guyver rose to its feet, Lorcan had devised a rather simplistic plan. He created a whirling ball of gravitational mass within his hands, and had zoomed forward in an attempt to unleash this force before the other unit had regained its composure. Though his efforts were a little lacking in luster, he was able to surprise the unit by slamming the “pressure cannon” into its mid gut as it attempted to defend itself merely by the use of its high frequency blades. The newly formed Guyver fell back once more, slamming into a rear facing brick wall, which it quickly destroyed and fell through. Disoriented the Guyver would use its sensory orbs to get a lock on the approaching Warrior Guyver just in time to notice that he was following its course. The damage to this recently created Unit was immense, its mid abdominal section in shambles, as various fluids flowed freely from out the massive orifice forged by the contact with the pressure cannon. Armored phalanges grasp the refuge, created by the destruction of the wall, and lifted the unit just in time to observe the Warrior Guyver slamming his left elbow into the side of the creatures head. The unit leered back, its grasp interrupted, and its form once more forced into the skies from the sheer force of the impact. Though within an out of control aspect, the Guyver appeared to be losing this battle rather quickly, but of course, it was fighting one of the famed Warrior Guyvers. What other recourse could be expected. It would lay on the ground for a moment, reeling over damage done to its structure, before yet again attempting to come to its feet. Placing both hands on the bits of ruble beneath it, it would lift its upper torso from the ground below, only to stare at a majestic monster that look intently down upon it. Lorcan had expected more from this Guyver, the one that had caught him off guard and tempted fate by continuing this little exercise even though it found itself outmatched. He smiled within conscious respects, standing but nine feet from the fallen unit. Now knowing that he easily overwhelmed this unit in sheer power, he thought that perhaps it was time to play with his food before he destroyed it. Warrior Guyver 5 moved forward, lifting his right foot, allowing it to bend at the knee as he swung it with enough force to knock a three mirrored Darzerbs from their stance. It would come into contact with the other unit at the left point of its head, yet again knocking the unit to the ground, and forcing it to spin from the inertia directed towards it. Though the reoccurring strikes only taunted the unit, for even now the initial blow to its abdominal region was all but healed. During the course of the Guyvers spin, it was able to gain leverage via the rocky foundation under thumb, and lift itself by forcing both upper appendages into the soil. Its feet would whirl into the heavens, forcing a left foot into the gut of the over confident Warrior Guyver. The concussion would force Lorcan off balance, and teetering within step, as he was pushed backwards from the impact. His over confidence had forced him to relinquish the graviton particle field that allowed him to easily overcome such insecurities within stability. Lorcan faltered within step, allowing his right leg to flow through the air as it he attempted to regain his balance. This was just the opportunity the out of control aspect had been awaiting. It regained it footing, allowing the recoil from its arms to press it into a sort of mid air summersault that it used to land on its feet and rush the instable Warrior Guyver. The newly conceived unit would slash out with its right forward facing vibrational blades, aiming them so that they would pierce the abdominal cavity of the Warrior Guyver. Warrior Guyver Five was forced to allow his left foot to slip back in placement, as his right brandished the soil under foot to steady itself. His left elbow came into a curvature befitting to the circumstance, as the left forward facing high frequency sword was allowed to come into contact with the opposing Guyver’s dual rights. It was then that the tables would be turned, and the ill balance Warrior Guyver would be forced onto his left knee. The recently formed Guyver then forced its left blades forward, attempting to skewer the control medallion of this Warrior Guyver. Though its speed was astonishing, the Warrior Guyver yet again seemed to outmatch it. For as the blades reeled forward attempting to end the life of this other Guyver, Lorcan raised his right reverse facing blade to contradict the direction of the other Guyvers blade, which placed Lorcan’s forward right forward facing blade directly under his bent left arm. The out of control Guyver seeing this, gathered the full of its potential into its own right arm, pressing with the whole of its might against the left arm of Lorcan, forcing the Warrior Guyver’s left arm against the humming vibrations of its own right forward facing blade. Blood would squirt outward, as a main artery was tapped, coating both Guyvers in a thin layer of crimson, as Lorcan screamed out in pain. “You god damned mother fucking piece of shit!” Lorcan shouted out in Russian, trying to cope with the increasing discomfort he had forced himself into. Through this persuasion of pain, Lorcan was able to ascertain the capacity of power required to force back the out of control Guyver, via his right arm. Though his own blade had nearly sliced through his left arm, Lorcan found it in himself to leap backward, using the accumulated force in his legs. Though as Lorcan leapt, left arm dangling in the air, the other Guyver would slam his own right foot into the stomach region of Lorcan Unit, adding force and pain to the already disoriented Warrior Guyver. Through his bewilderment Lorcan was unable to correct his course, and thusly slammed through another adjacent wall, though with only enough subsequent force to cause the mass to come crumbling down around him, the weight of this structure seeming to be more than forty tons. With but one functional arm, and the strain of disfigured organics within his abdominal region, Lorcan pushed passed the anguish, and flung the debris out of his way, just in time to see the other unit bearing down on him. The massive creature would spare no time to allow this other to heal its wounds, instead, just as the Warrior Guyver had freed itself from its premature coffin, The out of control Guyver would raise its hands, and allow Lorcan to gaze upon his own doom. Within the hands of this monster laid the formation of a devastating weapon that Lorcan could barely comprehend. A swirling vortex of gravitational forces, which alternated in hue from an azure to the darkest shades of obsidian, so immense that it had began to pull the debris of the falling structures into its core. Situated within the center of two unified hands this maelstrom only further infuriated Warrior Guyver 5; it appeared to be something like a pressure cannon, but with enough force to rival Dreadnoughts own interpretation of this weapon. How could Lorcan match off against an opponent that was able to gather so much power in such a short period of time? Fear gripped him, and it was not about to let go. The newly formed unit would then slam this tempest of gravitational forces at the warrior Guyver, allowing the massive orb to force its way through the myriad of mass that lay before it. Though Lorcan was fearful, he remembered something about his unit, it had the ability to absorb such forces, and use them against its aggressor. Lorcan would quickly place his remaining right arm before him, concentrating on the abilities within his unit to create another graviton particle field around him. The completion of this task would take less than a nano-second, and as orb rushed onward, Warrior Guyver 5 extended this field but four inches from his own structure, allowing the quantum computations of the control medallion to compute the equivalent force, as well as gravimetric fields, and incorporate them into his own gravitational shielding. A seemingly luminescent exposure would flood over the ally way, coating both units in a photonic wave so immense that it appeared to discolor both their forms within a bright, and overtaking, shade of white. The concussion from the impact of both the gravity based attack and the gravity shielding, would force both combatants from their situated stances, and into yet further expansive walls. Though the strength of this blast wouldn’t be enough to force both Guyvers through the walls, it was enough to form an impact crater on either surface. Both Guyvers would slide down the partitions, until they came into contact with the ground. Lorcan quickly regained his footing, standing to his feet, but strangely he would be teetering from right to left, as he bent over slightly lurching towards the ground. The battle had strained his indomitable energy reserves, and the pain had taken its course throughout his being; the teetering appendage dislodge from his impact. Though the Warrior Unit was quickly attending to these wounds, they would not alleviate the torment that each step traversed upon his form. The other Guyver at this point grappled with the ground about him. Having fallen face first after its impact, it was forced to press itself up from the floor, via both upper appendage, and gain ground by sliding both knees under its abdomen. Its sensory orbs buzzed into life, searching the devastation caused by both warriors, for its weary combatant. It stood to its feet, arms hanging by it side, its stance unaltered by the turbulent concussions it had experienced in the conflict. This Guyver was nearly unaltered, besides a minute cut across its stomach. Seeing that the other Guyver seemed unaffected through the course of their battle, Lorcan recoiled in the idea that he just might lose; but he was a Warrior Guyver, something that not even this other unit could defeat. Lorcan raised his remaining arm in front of him, concentrating on the enduring gravitational forces within him, as well as those previously absorbed from the other unit. This attentiveness would create a swirling orb of gravimetric forces, beyond Warrior Guyver 5’s ability to reproduce unaided. Debris from the battle would rise into the air, dashing against both combatants’ forms as the swirling tempest of energy reached its final state of readiness. Observation of the Warrior Guyvers’ maneuver had spurred the newly awoken unit into action. It would stand ready as Warrior Guyver 5 pulled his right arm back and then slammed it forward, slinging the massive pressure cannon in the direction of the other unit at a speed of nearly one thousand miles per hour. The newly surfaced Unit leapt into the air, moving towards its right as the pressure cannon slammed into the wall behind it, obliterating the structure upon contact. The out of control Guyver, still within mid jump, allowed its feet to flow freely before it, as it rebounded off the surface of an adjacent wall, leaving an impact crater in its wake. The direction of this leap would be within route of Lorcan, its massive form rocketing towards the Warrior Guyver at just under the speed of sound. Lorcan would see the attack coming, he even half expected this course of action, but he wouldn’t be able to pull himself away quick enough to effectively defend against such an attack. Instead he merely lifted his remaining right arm, and brandished his forward facing blade as a form of barrier between the screeching form of this other Guyver and his own. The tactic almost paid off, but the brute force of the impact pressed Lorcan onto one knee yet again and back into the wall that he had just wrenched himself away from. The out of control Guyver, still within the tactic of flinging himself at the Warrior Guyver, redistributed his own mass density as to easily slam his feet into the ground before Lorcan. Off balance yet again, Lorcan attempted to take advantage of this short amnesty by pressing his right leg into the ground and lifting himself to a nearly standing position, at which point he slammed his left knee forward and into the groin area of this other Guyver. Though the effort seemed a valiant one, the out of control Guyver merely lowered its right arm into the bearing of the left knee, thusly allowing its right forward facing vibrational swords to impact with this oncoming knee. Lorcan screamed out in pain as his joint was torn to shreds. The blade would continue onward, almost severing the appendage at the point of the hip. Lorcan was forced to flush out the experience of pain, and use his remaining leg to propel him into the air, at which point he accessed the gravitational control orb and steadied himself within the heavens. The out of control Guyver didn’t wait long before continuing its assault. For as Warrior Guyver 5 ascended into the skies, the other Guyver would follow after, lifting itself into the firmament by the same means as Lorcan. It hovered for a moment, before rushing forward with both sets of high frequency blades bared forward at Warrior Guyver 5. Limping even within his situated place in the sky, Lorcan created a gravitational shielding that stretched out in a one hundred and eighty degree half sphere before him. It appeared nearly translucent, and the other Guyver might not have noticed it if not for its own sensory equipment that warned it of the upcoming gravimetric disturbance but a moment before it was to make contact with it. A moment to late for this newly spawned unit, for as it was to attempt to pull back from the gravitational disturbance, it would make contact, and thusly be exposed to immense gravimetric forces. Lorcan fell back further, being forced to recede by the initial impact this other Guyver had with his shielding mechanism. Still attempting to hold his ground, Lorcan would reel in the pain he was currently experiencing. Though being a Warrior Guyver allowed him nearly infinite energy reserves, it did not allow his psyche to exist within such prolonged torment. His body was in shambles, and it appeared that this other unit would never give way. Just then the realization that perhaps this conflict was coming to an end dawned on him, as the out of control Guyver attempted to force its way through his shielding, it was exposed to the high levels of gravity and kinetic force the shield had created. These forces tore into the poor creature’s bio armor, creating a goopy mess of organic and crystalline parts, which seemed to bubble through the immense pressure, until it gave in to fatigue, and fell earth bound. It slammed into the asphalt below, creating yet another impression from its fall, as it began to twitch and writhe in agony that it must have felt. Lorcan gathered his facilities and lowered the shielding set before him, then allowed himself to descend towards the war zone below. Upon contacting the ground, he slumped to his right side, as his remaining right hand attempted to locate its missing counter part. Rummaging through the debris left from the conflict, he came upon his missing arm and placed it so that the stump of the fallen appendage would match up with its corresponding component. He held it there for a moment, out of breath from the pain, eyes scanning over the ally way and over to the Guyver that had put him in such a situation. The Warrior Guyver’s sensory orbs would quickly locate its mass, only to find that the beast had almost completely healed from the damages he had inflicted upon it. “So quickly?” Lorcan thought to himself as trepidation embraced him. He had yet to even locate his other leg. The healing of his left arm wasn’t even close to complete, and yet, now he was to be forced into another confrontation with this still out of control unit! *** |
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