Three Days Ago
11:03 PM
Bahbem Foundation Forward Base Camp
"That wasn't what I was expecting. Shame it wasn't a Gran Cher."
Voices were its first memory.
Voices, and heat. Flames licked its newly formed limbs and body, hardening its smooth, glossy limbs as its eyes focused for the first time in its life. Life! To be alive, and yet, to feel so profoundly alone! Something, it knew, was missing - but it could not yet articulate it. Shapes started to form before its eyes as they adjusted to the light.
A skeletal, hunched beast, all bone and teeth, coiled before it like a wound spring. Its blood-soaked claws clicked against one another as it cleaned itself, independent of the whims of its operator.
"Dahlia, what should we-"
"Orphan has no need for defective Antibodies."
The other...
That silhouette! It jumped out from the rest, a dark crimson with rounded shoulders and a body that was eerily similar to its own - but at the same time different. Larger, more imposing, more aggressive. Every instinct caused it to recoil, sensing something akin to disgust - and it knew from the Gran Cher's own eyes, even hidden behind a visor as they were, that it felt the very same way.
"An ounce of prevention..."
The woman spoke dryly, and the Gran Cher lifted the gleaming, oversized blade held in its hand overhead. It couldn't move, couldn't cry out - could only watch in horror as the Sword Extension reflected the flames around it.
"Is worth a pound of care-"
It fell, came crashing down, down - and it felt for the first time, pain, before everything melted away into a kaleidoscopic haze. Had it all just been a dream? Had it been born just to suffer, briefly, and then die? It was vaguely aware it was on its side now, vital fluids leaking. The vague shapes retreated into the flames, and it was left alone, the last of its life draining away. And yet-
It cried.
It wept. A grinding, crackling, noise, like a broken flute trying to play. A "song" of woe, that only it would ever hear, a desperate, instinctual cry for help, like an infant tore from its mother's bosom.
There was a cool wetness. It crept up over its ruined features from below, as more shapes appeared. Misshapen. Malformed. Rejected. What was it that woman had said? Defective? They were small, barely more than globs of clay and dirt with tiny eye-spots, like horseshoe crabs, that clustered about it now. Where had they come from? It didn't have time to process this as they pressed themselves against its face, their bodies filling the cracks, pulling ruined metalflesh together, stemming the bleeding.
Was it instinct, on their part? Did they know it would mean the end of their fragile existences as well? Or were they happy to at last have a purpose beyond rotting at the bottom of a garbage heap? All these things and more it tried to ponder in its own way... but tiredness and fatigue finally claimed it, and its body went limp among the flames.
Present Day
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead."
That voice was it's second memory.
A warm light, not fierce and harsh like what it had first seen.
The sun shone down on its body. A young man was at its feet, and it rose slowly, as though awed by how small he was. He was dressed in a dark blue blazer that matched his pants, his hair, and other accoutrements - clearly his favored color. Suds ran down his fingers as he worked a brush of some kind up its leg, cleaning away the last of the charred surface flesh from the other night.
"That was a close call." He said, conversationally.
"If it hadn't been for those mud dolls, you'd be off to the garbage dump."
With a sigh, he dropped the mop next to its bucket, and looked up at it, allowing their eyes to meet. He folded his arms, letting out a long, slow "hmm", as if he were in deep contemplation. There were others like him in the background, cleaning and rebuilding, a hub of activity - but this man had decided to give him all of his attention... and it felt a strange sense of gratitude. Finally he spoke, averting his gaze.
"The Red Gran Cher did that do you, didn't it?"
The thought seemed to cause him to purse his lips, and he gave a low sigh. It could sense the emotion radiating from him - anxiety, uncertainty, and resentment... but also kindness, hope, and sincerity. It was a curious cocktail... and it found itself leaning in a little closer, just to see if it could perhaps learn a little more. He wiped his hand against his pant leg and extended it towards him. A strange gesture, but it felt it understood.
A colossal finger was moved forward... and the human shook it, laughing.
"My name is Novalis Elwren. Nice to meet you... Brain."
11:03 PM
Bahbem Foundation Forward Base Camp
"That wasn't what I was expecting. Shame it wasn't a Gran Cher."
Voices were its first memory.
Voices, and heat. Flames licked its newly formed limbs and body, hardening its smooth, glossy limbs as its eyes focused for the first time in its life. Life! To be alive, and yet, to feel so profoundly alone! Something, it knew, was missing - but it could not yet articulate it. Shapes started to form before its eyes as they adjusted to the light.
A skeletal, hunched beast, all bone and teeth, coiled before it like a wound spring. Its blood-soaked claws clicked against one another as it cleaned itself, independent of the whims of its operator.
"Dahlia, what should we-"
"Orphan has no need for defective Antibodies."
The other...
That silhouette! It jumped out from the rest, a dark crimson with rounded shoulders and a body that was eerily similar to its own - but at the same time different. Larger, more imposing, more aggressive. Every instinct caused it to recoil, sensing something akin to disgust - and it knew from the Gran Cher's own eyes, even hidden behind a visor as they were, that it felt the very same way.
"An ounce of prevention..."
The woman spoke dryly, and the Gran Cher lifted the gleaming, oversized blade held in its hand overhead. It couldn't move, couldn't cry out - could only watch in horror as the Sword Extension reflected the flames around it.
"Is worth a pound of care-"
It fell, came crashing down, down - and it felt for the first time, pain, before everything melted away into a kaleidoscopic haze. Had it all just been a dream? Had it been born just to suffer, briefly, and then die? It was vaguely aware it was on its side now, vital fluids leaking. The vague shapes retreated into the flames, and it was left alone, the last of its life draining away. And yet-
It cried.
It wept. A grinding, crackling, noise, like a broken flute trying to play. A "song" of woe, that only it would ever hear, a desperate, instinctual cry for help, like an infant tore from its mother's bosom.
There was a cool wetness. It crept up over its ruined features from below, as more shapes appeared. Misshapen. Malformed. Rejected. What was it that woman had said? Defective? They were small, barely more than globs of clay and dirt with tiny eye-spots, like horseshoe crabs, that clustered about it now. Where had they come from? It didn't have time to process this as they pressed themselves against its face, their bodies filling the cracks, pulling ruined metalflesh together, stemming the bleeding.
Was it instinct, on their part? Did they know it would mean the end of their fragile existences as well? Or were they happy to at last have a purpose beyond rotting at the bottom of a garbage heap? All these things and more it tried to ponder in its own way... but tiredness and fatigue finally claimed it, and its body went limp among the flames.
Present Day
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead."
That voice was it's second memory.
A warm light, not fierce and harsh like what it had first seen.
The sun shone down on its body. A young man was at its feet, and it rose slowly, as though awed by how small he was. He was dressed in a dark blue blazer that matched his pants, his hair, and other accoutrements - clearly his favored color. Suds ran down his fingers as he worked a brush of some kind up its leg, cleaning away the last of the charred surface flesh from the other night.
"That was a close call." He said, conversationally.
"If it hadn't been for those mud dolls, you'd be off to the garbage dump."
With a sigh, he dropped the mop next to its bucket, and looked up at it, allowing their eyes to meet. He folded his arms, letting out a long, slow "hmm", as if he were in deep contemplation. There were others like him in the background, cleaning and rebuilding, a hub of activity - but this man had decided to give him all of his attention... and it felt a strange sense of gratitude. Finally he spoke, averting his gaze.
"The Red Gran Cher did that do you, didn't it?"
The thought seemed to cause him to purse his lips, and he gave a low sigh. It could sense the emotion radiating from him - anxiety, uncertainty, and resentment... but also kindness, hope, and sincerity. It was a curious cocktail... and it found itself leaning in a little closer, just to see if it could perhaps learn a little more. He wiped his hand against his pant leg and extended it towards him. A strange gesture, but it felt it understood.
A colossal finger was moved forward... and the human shook it, laughing.
"My name is Novalis Elwren. Nice to meet you... Brain."