Friday, September 7, 2007

The Escape

The exterior doors to the prison's courtyard were made of reinforced ultinium, a magnetically locked molecular alloy so dense and rigid that once forged, it could not be reshaped or cut by anything short of a solar-temp laser. Nothing in the Zig, criminal or weapon system alike, could generate 9,000 degrees of heat and nothing within possessed the kind of titanic strength necessary to even dent such a metal.

Even he could not damage the outer doors, no matter how hard he struck them. The doors were truly impervious to his might, despite the power of the Earth itself flowing through his tortured veins. The doors were indestructible...

...but the door frames were not.

Most of his exodus was a blur, a dim memory consisting of momentary pain and the wet sound of obstacles being "overcome". There were guards, surely, but they were far softer than an ultinium door and far easier to dismantle. He only wanted out, he only wanted his freedom. They were in the way.

He did not want to hurt them, but he did. Badly.

Permanently.

The courtyard of the prison was in the center of the Zigguraut. An autogun turret rested at the top of a tall spire directly in the heart of the yard, its field of fire covering the entire area. With a pair of macro-vulcans saved to a state-of-the-art target acquisition system, the gun tower could send more than a hundred rounds of armor-piercing flechettes into any escape before he or she took two steps forward.

Nightravyn only took one step forward and then took out the autoguns with the only thing tough enough and heavy enough to withstand the hailstorm of its deadly rounds.

The ultinium outer door. It sailed through the air, reflecting the gun tower's barrage before smashing into the turret. Its molecularly-locked state ensured that all the force of the impact was absorbed by the cannons. Vastly more vulnerable than the door itself, they exploded on impact, sending a chain fire of exploding rounds down the length of the spire and tearing it apart. The two controllers within were caught in the ballistic conflagration, killed both instantly and spectacularly.

He walked through the rain of steel and blood, unfazed by either. His mind was consumed with the singular need to GET OUT. There were two fences and a jagged coastline in his way. Neither concerned him.

The fences were covered in razor wire and electrified with enough voltage to power Atlas Arena during a Superball game. They tore like a wall of paper streamers, the lightning in their lines channeling down his stone-clad body and into the gravel-strewn yard. Grounded in more ways than one, he shrugged his way through the fences without so much as a scratch.

The coast line was another matter entirely. The drop was a sheer one - more than a quarter mile straight down. The base of the cliff was lined in sharpened metal pylons and rocky crags. Past these, the water was a teeming morass of capture nets and proximity mines. With the life's blood of several perimeter guards boiling in the flames surrounding his fists, he crouched, preparing to dare the jump into the abyss.

He had to escape and this was the only way...

"Well, my magmic friend, perhaps not the only way."

Nightravyn spun, his aggression swelling as he reacted to the first real voice since his awakening. It was calm, female, and seemed to come from everywhere at once. His one good eye wreathed in flame, he could not see anyone nearby. There were only bodies. A sea of bodies, broken and charred beyond recognition.

"You will not see me, but I see you. I see many things, physical and spiritual. Flesh and destiny. I see the past and the future and at this moment, yours will both end if you take this leap of folly."

His mind was a morass of confusion and pain, so much so that it took him several minutes to realize that the words were forming inside his thoughts. There was no one here, no actual sounds but his own labored breathing, the wail of impotent sirens and the crash of the waves far below.

Before he could respond or even form the coherency to think in words, a pair of flak armored guards brandishing huge guns rushed towards him, plasma beams crossing the yard and slamming into his powered armor shell. Ignoring the impacts, he grabbed two of the fence posts, uprooted them and brought the resulting tangle of razor wire and sparking powerlines down over the prison gunners with earth-shattering force.

At first, they were still standing. Then, steaming and shuddering, they slowly fell apart.

"What... who... are you?" He looked away from the carnage, its sheer brutality actually penetrating his pall of drugged mindlessness.

"I shall answer the who. I am called Kalinda. The what is something you will have to learn on your own, should you survive my tests." The voice was not hostile, not threatening, and yet the dire warning in her words could not be ignored. She was not using "survive" idly.

"Tests...?" It was so hard to speak. So difficult to think.

"The delirium will pass in time. Most would still be unable to walk, even with the komatadine in their systems neutralized. You are a most impressive specimen, Lord Raven, and I intend to see if you are the one I have foreseen."

"Fore... seen."

"In due time, Lord. For now, a chariot comes to bring you to me, should you wish to escape this unworthy cage."

Of everything the strange, hauntingly beautiful voice had said, it was Escape that brought him back to reality. More guards were coming, more meat for the slaughter. The voice fell silent while he attended to his new company, driving his obsidian-covered fists through their fragile bodies and scattering them like so many limp, crimson dolls.

Other figures were emerging from the sundered prison as well, men and women in drab grey and orange bodysuits. Convicts. Criminals. Supervillains. All incarcerated, now given a chance at freedom. Once, he would have hated himself for letting such an exodus occur... for aiding these terrors in their time of need.

That was a long time ago. Now he was a terror. He was a criminal. He looked down at his hands, burning with the red remains of so many fallen guardians. There was no turning back now. He was what they had made him. Nightravyn was no more.

And from the hero's ashes, now Bloodravyn was born.

"I... am ready. Come for me." He said it. Thought it. Meant it.

"As you command, my Lord."

The clouds parted above and a black hovercraft with blazing red searchlights and backlit turbo-fans descended towards the wreckage of the courtyard gun tower. Its side door opened and a masked figure dressed in armor with a spider motif pointed directly at him from across the field of devastation. "You. Only you. Climb aboard."

Moments later, he was flying away from the Zigguraut, watching it burn. Smoke contrailed around the flier's short wings, billowing away from the ruined prison. The place would be rebuilt, most of the convicts gathered up and incarcerated once again and for a time, life would return to normal for the people below.

None of it mattered. None of this mattered.

Only one thing mattered now. He was free.

Free.

2 comments:

erisraven said...

Disturbing imagery, yet very powerful. Eager for more!

Zay B. Eve said...

Of course I have to start with the obvious "GIEF MOAR".

:)

Adore it, as usual, sweet.