Is he doing JAZZ HANDS at the camera!?
Gender: Female
Location: In the closet
Rank: Decisive Witness
Joined: Mon Oct 15, 2007 11:59 pm
Posts: 207
I LIVE. XD That's right, I'm fine. This Chapter was a bit of a grind, but I got there eventually...some bits were really fun to write. <3 Since it's like 2:30 AM here right now I don't have much to say, but I hope this doesn't disappoint anyway.
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The Kallisti Project – Samurai Arc – Chapter 3“Nick…” Maya’s grip on her companion’s clothing loosened slightly.
She’d never admit to clinging to him out of fear. In a way, she seemed more upset when confronted with the homeless, another of the many evils outside the boundaries of Kurain. Rivalries were life-long, as common and as bitter as divorce in her isolated mountain home, but such poverty just didn’t happen.
Still clinging to her naivety, she took a step forward. Tradition also dictated there’d be someone to lend a helping hand. There was a camaraderie between spirit mediums, occasionally extended to those without the gift of channelling.
The medium looked almost ready to kneel down, as if petting a puppy, as she approached. “Nick, we can’t just leave him…!” Like a half-wild animal, the grown man looked wary, but almost eager to receive some kind of recognition. Neither sensed the growing aura of malevolence; Maya stumbled as someone suddenly pushed past her.
Phoenix wasn’t even aware that he’d moved until the collar of the rubber suit, thick with grime, squeaked in protest against his grip. The creature he’d tried to ignore, even pitied, was looking back at him. But something had its grip on the lawyer, too. Anger and sorrow mixed and reacted like in the courtroom, and a red mist clouded his vision, thicker than ever. Not even the stench of blood and garbage and unwashed body cut through it, registered in his mind.
“Why did you come back!?”He heard the words being spat out of his mouth, but it wasn’t him talking. The part that was Phoenix Wright had taken a seat, and was numbly observing as things just…happened.
It had been more than a year since the Engarde case. Knowing Maya’s life was at stake, he’d worked night and day for a ‘Not Guilty’ verdict, only to find his case was as false as that man’s façade of sanity. The thought that everything he’d believed in was his own naivety, just his own mask against the real world, wreaked havoc with his vision and balance.
He’d been just about ready to drown in that feeling right there, if not for the hatred. Stronger than his own sense of self-loathing, just sheer hatred for that man…that
monster, masquerading as a man. Cowardly. Free of empathy.
“Why won’t you answer me!?”But what answer would suffice, that watching part of him wondered. What could that man possibly say, to stop this indescribable pain? Somehow reassure him, that everything he’d worked for hadn’t been torn down with those prison walls? That the Guilty hadn’t gone unpunished, and weren’t now roaming free?
The fact that they were now facing each other, stripped bare of courtroom formalities and bulletproof plastic, was proof in itself that words meant nothing now.
Shaking hands, usually suited to desk work, gripped the suit tighter. Small plumes of smoke seeped between the fingers, as temperatures between skin and fabric soared, more than a normal human could stand. Cold sweat started to steam in the evening air.
And that man’s face, so close, true self hidden beneath that simple lock of hair. The smell of smouldering rubber, true flames barely held back.
“Why didn’t you just DIE!?”“NICK, STOP IT!”
Suddenly, Phoenix was back in control. He dropped the man suddenly; he knew he’d got mad, even though he never got mad. But…this was…and Maya was still crouched protectively, looking at him. In a way he hoped he’d never see; the look he’d imagined in his mind’s eye if he didn’t get
that man a guilty verdict, the man Maya herself had called a ‘creepy slimebag’…
“What’s gotten into you!? Can’t you see he’s terrified??”
Phoenix swallowed hard, his throat dried out. Finally, he found his words. “Maya, it’s…that’s
Matt Engarde…” he sounded breathless and desperate, like he was making some lame excuse for a late court appearance. But, this was the
truth. Even those tears, that look of confusion and hurt, it was all just an elaborate disguise.
He swallowed again, an immoveable knot in his throat. That man’s feelings centred around pointless rivalry and sadistic pleasure, breaking people’s lives just to see them pick up the pieces. He was a monster.
“Nick, look at him!” her glare intensified. Even this pathetic creature, breath coming in short gasps, looking at him with streaming eyes… “Just
look! Can’t you see he’s different!?” …it was all just a fake… “Look at his eyes, it’s not the same spirit in there…” …just, soulless.
“And he’s hurt, we need to get him some help…” she didn’t even seem to notice the smell, despite being so close to him. He didn’t like how close she was; at any minute Matt Engarde could turn on her and use her as a human shield. The medium reached forward to look at his wrist, circled by a deep wound, like something had cut into it and left a rusty mark…
“NO!” Phoenix leapt forward at the sudden movement, and stopped. The shout had come from him, from Engarde. Like an animal, he was shaking, hunched up and backed away as he tried to protect his injury. “Don’t…!” It wasn’t his pleas which kept the lawyer away, but the lock of matted, overgrown hair which had been dishevelled. Underneath it was his other eye, and clear skin…unblemished by Matt Engarde’s characteristic scars.
A twin? A look-alike? Even a clone? He vaguely remembered being called ‘Mr. Laywer dude’, or maybe he’d imagined it. But…if this wasn’t Engarde, his double been
really, genuinely scared, and upset, and he’d…his own knees almost gave out. What had he done, what had he
been doing, what had been going through his head!? For a moment, he almost blamed the chemicals. They could have unlocked some other, more aggressive instinct, from when man’s ancestors had wings.
But a feeling in his gut, his own unaltered instincts, told him otherwise. That had been
him. His vision blurred.
“Please, just calm down..!” Maya’s voice again, and that look she was giving him, that said ‘this is your fault, so do something’ cut through the doppelganger’s unintelligible yelling. Now a few feet from where Phoenix’s train of thought had left him, the medium had grabbed him with her spirit hands to stop him from running. He hadn’t got far when he stopped struggling and shouting, his breath interrupted with weak coughs.
Unable to tear away his gaze, the lawyer felt sicker than ever as the change in light drew new shadows on the man’s face. Wide, terrified eyes sunken in their sockets, shadows drawing lines on too-sharp cheekbones, a suggestion of ribs pressed against the skin-tight suit. He wasn’t just thin, he was emaciated. And judging from that coughing, probably sick, too.
It was a harsh reminder why Phoenix never got mad. It only ever made things worse, then left him to stew in regret while others cleared up his mess, offering kind words to the Nickel Samurai. Despite her quirkiness, when it came to emotional maturity, Maya was actually light years ahead. A face came to mind; Elise Deaux-no, Misty Fey. She could look past the face that once leered at her companion in the detention centre, and see someone in need.
He still wasn’t sure what he was seeing, but he knew he didn’t like it. “Listen, it’s okay…you might remember Pearls…she can heal you, and all we have is mostly instant noodles, but…” Even if this wasn’t Matt Engarde, this scene would never sit right with him no matter which way he looked at it. Neither would, as Maya seemed to be suggesting, having the lookalike inside their apartment
It was all…
wrong. But he couldn’t go against what he still stood for, despite everything. This man was defenceless, and he needed someone to come to his aid when no-one else would…if he abandoned that sense of duty, Engarde would win. The uglier side of Phoenix Wright…the apathy and lack of faith that had broken the surface and quickly retreated, would win.
“Come on, we can take the back alleys so people don’t see you.” It was hard to believe the man standing a full head taller than Phoenix had felt threatened. But with the red mist of rage gone, something about him was definitely different. The way he carried himself, shoulders slumped and feet unsteady, made him seem smaller even though he towered over the medium. His expression, almost child-like…
The Engarde double said nothing as he was gently lead by the hand…leaving his decisions to other people, that hadn’t changed. And for the second time, Phoenix himself was just letting things happen. His uncontrollable rage was no longer in control, but he still followed the pair numbly, not sure of which way to hurt.
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“Hey, slow down, don’t make yourself sick again…” Maya said worriedly. Matty was digging into another bowl of instant noodles, ragged-looking wet hair and sunken eyes making him look like some kind of wild man. In the short time he’d been at their apartment, she’d taken to calling him that: Matty. ‘Mr. Engarde’ brought back too many bad memories.
And besides, a new name gave him a fresh start, something to show that he wasn’t the same person...though how he'd become that person was still a mystery. The Big Bang affected everyone differently, so it was impossible to guess. And when they'd first arrived, there’d been more important things to do; healing Matty's various injuries and getting the stink of garbage off and finding some old clothes that just about fit. Nick’s old clothes.
Nick was still being sort of…distant. Normally, he'd never be the one sitting in the corner and keeping to himself.
"Being a lawyer is all about talking to people..." her sister's words were still fresh in her memory, a snippet of sisterly advice. For a Fey, death wasn't the final word, but Maya wished she'd listened more.
"...you have to earn their trust..." Nick hadn't even made an attempt to talk to Matty. He'd been unnaturally quiet ever since he'd got mad, muttering 'hi' to Pearly, then sitting looking at the wall.
"...it's something you can't get from a book, it comes from inside."Inside. She hadn't seen that side of Nick since he snapped at her over Mr. Edgeworth's disappearance, and Maya could tell he never wanted her to see it again. But...thinking back...she felt bad, too. A year ago, there’d been a hug-filled reunion when she was finally freed from that basement. Nick hadn’t talked about it much, but she knew he’d been worried sick. Seeing Matt Engarde's face again had broken the dam that was holding all those feelings back, freeing a torrent of rage.
"Oh, you're done?" She offered a smile, but the cautious look on Matty's face as she took the empty bowl was the same as when he'd followed them through the back alleys and home. Like a stray dog, he didn't seem to trust humans or superhumans; it seemed the only difference was he'd slapped her hand away instead of biting it. And maybe he'd been too weak, or maybe he was still scared, but his eyes said sorry when his mouth couldn't.
Progress since then had been slow, but she had to press on; she and Nick had dealt with sensitive witnesses before. "So..." Maya sat down on the couch, next to next to her sleeping cousin. Matty's hand went to his wrist, nervously. She'd earned enough of his trust to clean his wounds, but those cuts circling his wrists had been so deep, the effort of closing them had exhausted Pearl. The older medium folded her own hands. She'd struggled against handcuffs and ropes herself...but how long had it been, how desperate had he been to hurt himself like that?
"...He did it..." Maya looked up suddenly. He hadn't said a word since they were out on the street, and
she'd missed it-! "I mean...my other self did it." Matty continued, avoiding eye contact, maybe unaware of whether she'd heard him or not. "He chased me back to the prison and chained me up..." his sentence dissolved into silence, which hung for a few seconds. "I guess I deserved it...I'm the fake...."
"So you did it to yourself?" was the question both wanted to ask, lawyer and medium both looking over their shoulders, and at each other. They both knew couldn't ignore the possibility; that Matt Engarde's psychopathy had devolved into something else while in prison. In an effort to escape from his own hopeless trap, facing certain death inside or outside, he could have lost the distinction between fantasy and reality, being chased and restrained just a corrupted memory or dream.
But something didn't sit right with Maya. Thanks to another year of experience, and the Big Bang, her spiritual powers had grown since the Engarde case. Something about his spirit told her he was Matt Engarde, and yet at the same time he wasn't; he'd changed. It was a terrifying thought, but...at the cost of having these powers, being a superhero...had the Bang been enough to change people's
souls?The couch cushion next to hers sank suddenly, snapping her out of her stupor. It was Nick; holding the family artefact he'd become more adept at using than any Fey. Unfurling his palm to fully reveal the softly glowing Magatama, he looked at her expectantly, giving a half-smile.
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Phoenix readied himself as Maya's hand touched the Magatama. Any second now, 'Matty' would lay his eyes on it, and he hoped they'd see what was keeping them from the truth. He didn't know what difference to expect, if two people could actually use it at once, but he knew he couldn't face this alone. And he wasn't going to let Maya face this alone, either.
Then, suddenly, a familiar sight and sound as chains emerged from the mists of the spirit world. Clattering, echoing, they formed their usual criss-cross pattern with a single lock over the man's heart. But then more chains snaked from below, wrapping themselves around the lookalike's wrists, bearing their own heavy lock. [Two sets of chains, two different Psyche-locks...is this because we're both using it?] Phoenix thought, glancing down at the glowing object, warm in both their hands. [Still...it's the lock over his heart that matters.]
"Listen...Matty..." he was thankful that Maya started; no doubt Matty would be even more unnerved if he'd spoken first. His assistant often said that he gained a sort of
presence with the Magatama in hand, like he was somehow more
there. "...we don't want to scare you, we just want to know what happened to you. I mean...you remember us, right?"
The man nodded to the affirmative. Phoenix pushed the last of his anger down as far as it would go, firmly squashing it beneath his heel. That part of him had so many questions, like 'do you remember the suffering you caused to so many people?', but he silenced it. The spiritual lock may have looked cold and dead, but beneath it was a heart fluttering like a trapped bird. "Do you remember anyone else? What about Juan Corrida?"
The mention of the name seemed to stir something within the man...but instead of the barely repressed rage he would have expected from Matt Engarde, he instead got a look of confusion. "Juan...Corrida...? I know what he looks like, but I don't think I really knew the dude personally..."
Maya's hand went to her mouth in confusion, and stayed there as she mulled things over. Phoenix just wasn't sure what to think; his world had been rocked so many times, it felt just about ready to fall apart. [He doesn't remember his most bitter rival...
the man he had killed..
!?] He tried again. "What about Celeste Inpax?"
The name of the woman that man had driven to suicide got a reaction, but it was the last one the lawyer was expecting; the man's face suddenly lit up. "I remember Celeste! I..." He rubbed his bare wrist, hesitating again. With his wrist-phones long gone, he seemed lost without consulting a manager about even the simplest decisions, just like in the Detention Centre. "That is, we...we were happy together, but I guess my other self did something."
[Amnesia..?] Had Engarde not just forgotten his past, but forgotten that his fake persona was a fake? No...when Phoenix had been hit on the head with that fire extinguisher, he'd forgotten everything, even his
name. But his personality had been untouched; he hadn't abandoned his client in her time of need, she was an innocent person who was counting on him.
Amnesia couldn't stop a cold-blooded, manipulative sociopath from being anything but that. And it certainly couldn't heal physical scars, or somehow alter a spirit in a way that a medium could pick up on immediately. The only logical conclusion was that this was a different person, but who else would know Matt Engarde called him 'Mr. Lawyer Dude'?
"What about the Nickel Samurai? What do you remember about that?" Phoenix was almost quick to jump to a conclusion, ready to criticise Maya's short attention span. But when he turned, he saw the look in her eyes was decidedly adult determination; the starry-eyed Nickel Samurai fangirl had been shut away. She must be making a connection, seeing something that he kept missing.
"The Nickel Samurai!?" He puffed out his chest proudly, but the ribs showing through his already-tight T-shirt spoiled the pose somewhat. "Dude, I
am the Nickel Samurai, defender of Neo Olde Tokyo, fighting against the ninja forces of the Evil Magistrate's Son...!!"
Like Celeste's name, the show seemed to spark something within him; it gave him solid memories, a clear image he could hold on to. But why was his apparent amnesia so
selective? Why was he remembering some things clearly, but others not at all? And why was Maya just nodding sagely as he excitedly recounted epic battles and tense stand-offs?
The samurai's excitement slowly died down as he got out of breath, still severely weakened from the ordeals he'd been through. "...but...that's all I remember, dude...that...and what my other self told me."
"So your 'other self' has been telling you things you've forgotten?" Phoenix interjected. 'Matty' remembered things like the studio, how Ms. Andrews helped him, and his relationship with Celeste. But he
didn't remember his rival, how Adrian was implicated in his murder, and how his relationship ended. And the way he talked about his 'other self', his psychopathic side, it was like they were two separate people.
Phoenix was pretty sure he had it now. It seemed too strange to be true, but after years of dealing with mind-bending co-incidences and unfortunate circumstances, he knew he couldn't rely solely on logic.
"Matty, you only have half your memories, right? There's big holes where your 'other self' did things..." Chemical explosions that, instead of poisoning, granted wings and hollow bones...he couldn't rule out the possibility. "Things that you couldn't control. Because you didn't
have control." And Maya's smile just reinforced that he was on the right track. "Matt Engarde created you; you were his 'refreshing' image for the public eye...!"
CRACK. "OW!" ...And just as he was about to hammer his point home, the laywer found himself with his a painfully throbbing knuckle in his mouth, from where it hit the coffee table. The ringing of the office phone had distracted him, his fist hit the coffee table at the wrong angle,
and he'd lost his grip on the Magatama.
Not only that, but Maya immediately hit the speaker button with a cheery “Wright and Co. Law offices?”…so the potential client on the line was treated to their potential attorney cursing through his injured hand.
“I-is this the wrong number…?” A meek, feminine voice came from the speaker, barely audible over the chaos of traffic; engines revving, honking horns. Concern formed a lump in the lawyer's throat as the sound of screeching tires filled the office. Hopefully this wasn't a client seeking a lawyer whilst their crime was in progress. "T-there's no time!! Y-you have to get down here, the crossroads near Global Studios, the Steel Samurai can't cope-!!"
[
The Steel Samurai?] It sounded like some kind of cruel prank. But everything about it seemed genuine; the sounds of cars, the fear in the woman's voice. And that once television-exclusive hero had already come to life at Tonosacon, saving civilians. Phoenix cleared his throat, trying to sound calm. "Miss, this isn't the Police Department, but we'll call them right-"
He was abruptly cut off. "I...I know who you are, Mr. Wright! We need him; we need the Blue Phoenix!" Maya's hands immediately went to her mouth in shock. She'd been looking more and more worried as the mystery woman's situation seemed more and more dire, but neither of them had expected this. Discovery. Slowly, her hands fell away from her lips; '
She knows!', the medium mouthed at him.
Shortly after the Bang, discovery had seemed inevitable. His colour of choice, his uniquely spiked hair; the connection was all-too-obvious. But he'd become so used to being a hero, it raised questions he didn't think he'd ever ask. Who could know? And if they knew, what would they do with the information? Blackmail? Some kind of vendetta against him? Her voice did sound vaguely familiar...
He could have attempted an explanation. Said he was flattered, but she was mistaken. But there was no time; a sound like twisting and crunching metal, and the line went dead.
"Nick...what are we going to do?" the emotion was apparent in Maya's voice. It seemed like a dead end no matter which way one turned. Even going in the direction of the apparent cry for help could mean running head first into a trap, set by a newly-mutated old foe.
Phoenix stood up. "You heard her, Maya. The crossroads near Global Studios." The medium seemed taken aback for a moment, but nodded confidently as she understood...and smiled, in barely-restrained joy. He was thinking like a superhero; facing the challenge head-on no matter what the cost, because there were people in danger. Just an extension of his true nature, wasn't it, really?
But still, he gave a quick glance to Matty, hands clasped as if still bound by spiritual chains. Whatever lay beneath those twin locks was still all too real, and possibly dangerous. "Matty, you're coming with us. Just so..."
[...we can make sure we're not leaving an unpredictable psychopath in a locked apartment, unsupervised, with a sleeping child?] Even thinking the words left a bitter taste, made him feel like he was defying that true nature. But he was just being careful, wasn't he?
"...So we can keep an eye on you." He finished, simply.
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Cold metal was rarely a source of comfort to most people. But, looking up into that expressionless face, she could have fallen asleep in those arms. Like he was any other person. "Will..." she started. But crackling flames made her realise both where she was - still at the intersection – and where she
wasn't – inside her car.
She'd been driving to work, to Global Studios; Sal had left some semi-coherent notes before his 'illness', so the taping of "Last Stand in Neo Olde Tokyo" was resuming on schedule. The new studio boss was as ruthless as Dee Vasquez herself; if you had nothing to give, you were thrown out like yesterday's trash. If not for his ideas, Mr. Manella would have ended up on the TV trash heap along with former superstar Will Powers.
Will...on the day of the Bang, they'd been filming him outside in the woods. He'd spent the morning batting away snapping green mouths on sticks with his spear; later to become part of a giant plant monster once the CGI department had its way with the footage. She'd gone indoors to fetch coffee, stepped out into the remnants of a thick chemical smog, and gone running to look for him. As far as the studio and the police knew, he was still missing along with that expensive rubber suit.
But she'd found him, crouched and clawing at his neck, his mask thrown to one side. She'd followed his cries, the sound of his desperation and despair. She'd run her fingers over his skin, and found no seam, nothing to divide costume and flesh. His role had become his prison; flexible rubber had become an impenetrable steel-like shell. It didn't just cling to his skin, it
was his skin. He was a freak, a mutant, a living Steel Samurai.
And right now, wearing the Limited Edition Life-Size Samurai Helmet and Faceplate that once languished in a glass case on her bedroom shelf, one of only 25 in the world and forged from real metal, he was a hero.
Her hero. Something heavy had landed on her car roof and he'd pulled her out, probably before the second car had rear-ended hers and the two burst into flame.
Quickly, she motioned for him to put her down. "I called Mr. Wright...the Blue Phoenix should be on his way. Is it someone else from the studios?"
It was the reason Will had become the hero he was. Keeping tabs on the other studio staff, looking out for strange behaviour, and making sure they didn't hurt anyone if they 'turned'. He'd been right once before, when Mr. Manella started barricading himself in his room for much longer than usual...and she hadn't believed him. They were lucky there'd been no fatalities, that time.
The Samurai shook his head, then looked back to the scene, where confused drivers were still in a panic. The heavy mask made it difficult for him to speak, but as an actor, he was used to communicating without words.
'I-If I don't come back...th-thanks'; it was all there, even his trademarked stutter, as he rushed to help the other victims. He'd say it every time they parted; with all the public animosity towards Big Bang victims, he probably felt she was all he had left.
Penny watched him go, then turned her gaze upwards as she shielded her eyes; two dots in the sky were growing larger as they made their speedy approach.
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Nobody had particularly enjoyed the long flight to the scene. Matty had been clinging, eyes screwed shut, to Maya's waist. Maya meanwhile had been trying to keep her passenger calm, and keep her flying disc from tipping; her feet were attached, but nobody else's were. And Phoenix had been literally roped in to provide extra lift, a spirit hand wrapped around his legs.
It had been hard enough for him to fly with the extra drag...but he'd also had to keep an eye on a certain doppelgänger. And right now he was trying to find a safe place to land. Vertical takeoffs and landings were Mystic M's domain; she'd already uttered a quick 'Wait here' to Matty, and hopped off her flying disc to help an injured driver.
His feet finally touching a clear patch of ground, the scene
looked like one huge traffic accident. But if their mystery caller had said the Steel Samurai couldn't deal with a few injured civilians...as Mystic M would say, there could be supervillainy afoot. And from the way the red and green lights were flickering and flashing randomly, that was looking more and more likely.
The Blue Phoenix turned as something else caught his eye, something else flashing. Two pairs of hands - M and the Steel Samurai - were enough to help the injured, and two pairs of eyes could easily keep check on one Engarde lookalike standing on the sidelines. That left him to investigate the source of the sparks...and within seconds he'd found it.
Getting down on one knee, the hero felt for a pulse or any faint sign of life. The skin was still slightly warm to the touch. [No good...already gone.] He turned away for a moment, pushing up his goggles with the heel of his palm and shaking his head. Nothing could make discovering a body any easier, even dealing with death in every court case, but at least he'd found the apparent source of the disaster. Burns on the victim's hands, and a fusebox full of flailing wires, made it seem like an open and shut case.
A crazy suicide, some kind of vandalism or sabotage gone awry... [Whatever it is, the police can handle it.] he thought, replacing his goggles...and stepping right into a muddy patch. It was gross, but it would have been nothing that would deter him for long. That is, if he hadn't instinctively looked down.
There was a footprint; it looked human, and strangely barefoot. He could only hope, though, that the rest of it was some kind of disturbance caused by him stepping in it or the heat of the sun or
something. Phoenix glanced over his shoulder...the Big Bang
had done bizarre things to once-normal people; the wing he had to move to look at the body again was his proof.
He hadn't got a good enough look at the victim to see bare feet, or deformed feet. The way the print had looked, it appeared the owner's big toe had fused with the second, and the second had fused with the third. Each new digit bore one large and claw-like nail, and something that must be the start of another nail jutted from the heel.
Definitely, feet no longer capable of wearing shoes...while dead man still was. But was that bite mark on his back there before!?
SCREEEEEEEEEEEECH!Fate had a strange habit of interrupting him, like a persistent prosecutor. Whether he was approaching the truth or embroiled in confusion, he never had time to just stop and think. This time, the finger of fate had pointed a speeding truck in Team Phoenix's direction.
Cars scattered like bowling pins, people on the sides of the street screamed and threw themselves out of the metal monster's path. The smell of burning rubber filled the air as its wheels locked, but it continued relentlessly towards the pileup. "MAYA!!!" the name escaped his throat; not even witnesses could hold back his cry. She was in there, the Steel Samurai was in there, and only god knew how many other people-!!
Then, everything suddenly slowed. The Blue Phoenix felt his heart catch in his mouth...was this how he'd re-live this moment, again and again, taking in every gruesome detail? But then he became aware of a strange, ethereal type of music, his surroundings tinted with an indescribable colour.
He hadn't even thought about the Magatama. And yet he could feel it still snug inside his pilot jacket's pocket, dangerously close to burning a hole with a flood of intense spiritual energy. He was confused, but he had to act, maybe Maya had done something so he could save her! If only his eyes weren't inexplicably fixed on the chains and Psyche-lock bonding Matty's wrists! But...Matty was in the centre of his field of vision now; the lookalike had moved right into the path of the runaway truck.
There was a sound like turning gears, and a deafening click cut through the semi-silence. The heavy lock cracked and shattered like glass, and chains crumbled to dust. It was only then that the world of the still-living came back. Just as a pair of spirit hands were thrown out to deflect it...the truck had stopped.
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"Matty!" Maya was the first to reach the hero as his knees suddenly gave way, and he collapsed. Nick probably felt it too; an echo of the Magatama's power as Matty's second Psyche-lock shattered, just as he'd thrown himself in the truck's path, his arms out.
And he'd
stopped it – the metal beast's back wheels had spun in the air momentarily, its nose forced down, before falling with a jarring THUMP. Its engine smoked, and the Nickel Samurai released his grip, each finger leaving deep ridges in the chrome bumper where he'd grabbed it. The Psyche-lock hadn't been protecting a secret; it was a mental lock on his superpowers! He was strong; really strong.
But now, his skin was pale, and she could feel him shivering as she cradled him in her arms. She never thought she'd see the Nickel Samurai go down so heavily; not since Episode 42 with that poisoned rice. But all the sickness, fear and exhaustion, which he'd kept mostly hidden since they found him the previous night, had been enough to knock him out cold.
"Blue, the driver!" she quickly pointed, as the winged hero came running over. She hadn't noticed before, but as she craned her neck to look over the crumpled hood, there was a worrying patch of red in the centre of a spiderweb crack. Part of her naively hoped the stain was just a spilled cherry slushie, or it did until a man practically fell on top of Nick as he wrenched open the door.
The driver was bleeding from his forehead though he was still conscious; and as the Blue Phoenix helped him up, it seemed they both saw something on the man's side. A bloody V-shaped mark, like a bite from a dog or another large animal. It was deep, and very recent...had he been rushing himself to the hospital? Or – looking at the shattered side window – had something attacked him
in his truck?The man looked at them, eyes wild and bloodshot, mouth slightly agape. The two remaining heroes leaned closer to hear his mutterings over the sirens of an approaching ambulance. "M...monster...monster...there was a monster, and...a-and...and it......th-the..." the words faded. He was losing too much blood.
Pearly could have helped him if she'd been there, so they could maybe question him, but...hopefully she'd never have to see anything like this. The blood, the fires, the broken glass, the people who couldn't be saved. As much as she kept the values of the comic book world close to her heart, real life was inescapable; you just had to make the most of every small victory.
She spoke up as Nick lay the man down, back leaning against the wheel of his destroyed truck. He had a look in his eyes like he did at a crime scene; determined and thoughtful. "Blue, we have to go...I think Matty's sick..." A nod from the Blue Phoenix, and the pair were gone before the Paramedics were even halfway there.
And, sitting somewhere to the side, the unseen Steel Samurai pulled off his helmet. Will Powers ran silver-plated fingers through his scruffy mane, looking like he'd just seen a ghost...or a demon named Matt Engarde. He took the walkie-talkie attached to his belt, and pressed the button.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It took some time for the crossroads to calm down again...the incident happened around lunchtime. Cleanup wouldn't finish until early evening. But to one who stayed behind, one who watched the flower of gore and twisted metal delicately unfurl, wounds which would take a human days to heal would take only a few hours.
It hadn't been his intention, to injure himself in such a way. But...Engarde paused to lick a wound on the back of his hand; the sweet smell of blood still lingering all around made it difficult to resist...needs must. And he'd needed a slave, a distraction, and – why not? - something to get rid of one of those interlopers. Even if it meant jumping through a car window, the pain would pass and he'd be refreshed again.
He admired one of his claws, the base paler and unstained compared to the rest; new growth. He was Engarde; the part of the man he'd been that was always there, what would always be there, constant and unchanging. But his body, yes...slowly, he'd grown taller, leaner, more muscular. His centre of gravity had shifted forwards as his feet changed shape, while the start of a tail, with two nubs aching to become full-fledged spikes, provided balance.
His face, too, was being gradually sculpted into a muzzle to accommodate sharper and more numerous teeth, plus crushing jaw muscles. Erasing his old identity, becoming less of what he used to be, moving further away from that pathetic flake which his new self had rejected. When nature had completed its predatory masterpiece, humans would truly be mere cattle to him. Those 'heroes', his old friends the lawyer and the girl...simply more entertaining prey that might even be a
challenge.
But whether he was complete or not, they were of no threat to him, simply an annoyance. His plan to lure his inferior creation with the chance to be a hero, because
heroes didn't run, had worked to an extent. One of his disposable slaves had cut the wires, and he'd just sat and waited to strike; until that cowardly 'mentor' of his decided to grow a spine and come after him.
But, he
would get that flake back. Or at the very least, he'd be there when Shelley De Killer came knocking at the door of 'Team Phoenix' looking for 'Matt Engarde', and it'd be the assassin's turn to feel what he'd felt. Fear sweet as the finest Foie Gras, sweeter than the blood on his tongue.
Something danced across his skin, between his former flesh and his new, still patchy red and white scales. Another change? No; he could hear sparks, and the loud murmur of the ignorant masses. They were talking about how the lights had begun working perfectly again. And he glanced in their direction just as something emerged from the broken fusebox, a stream of light re-forming into something alive...
Engarde smirked. He was hatching a superior plan; and there'd be no need to waste his teeth or claws.
Last edited by ExImplode07 on Wed Mar 19, 2008 10:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.