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-Isaac finds himself outside the village of Vale, staring at the smoking form of Mount Aleph so high above.-
It's... It's over?
Sure looks like it.
Yep, we're finally through.
I need to tell the others! Who knows how much-
You're telling them squat. "Hey guys, I'm back from competing with a bunch of madmen in a dimensional hole controlled by lunatics!" That sound good to you?
Not to mention you never had the most flattering role in all of it.
That too. Let's just keep quiet on the whole thing, all right?
That's the spirit.
-Shaking his head, Isaac sets off for his hometown, determining that the Nomads shall never again come to his universe for their twisted games.-
-In a jungle somewhere, a loud splash as a massive object is dropped in the water.-
S̙U͢C̳͍̙̯̰H̬̳̤̘̭̦̻ ҉͔̝͇̗͉̭A̰͙͓̫ ͍̝̙͔̳̦͜P͔͙Ì͓͓TY̗ ̴͉̠̤̳͇
̖̞SU̳͓̠̰̟͙̫͠C̣̣̙̻H̭̞̹̤̠̤͎͝ ̦W͇͙ÀS̱͓͎̻͙Ṭ̮E͏͓̘̬̻D ̨̬P҉̖̭̟̟O̖̭̠͚T̜͇̩̦̤ͅẸ̹̞͍̝̲N̛̤͍̱͇T͍̫̹̫͔̟̟I̗̹̟̕A̮̮̹̥̠̗L̩̖̜͇͠ ͎̤̖
͏̣̝B̷̦U̗̯̫̜T̶ ͕͓͞ͅN̞͖̦̠̖͕͚O̢͍͎͉̰̫ͅ ̰M͉͈̥A̳̼͇T̸T̛̤E̛̝̹̘͎R͞ ͏̲͓̮̖̺̪
̥̫͔AŅ͈O̥̲͚̳̪͖͎TH͇̺̜̕E͔͉͕̹̦̣͚R̟̪̝ ̵̮̺G̦̲̜̱A̢̜M̲͓E̪̖ ͏͖͎B͏E̵̥G̙̜͚̭̻̠͡ͅI̜͈̹̪͔ͅN͈͕̺̘̘͈̗͜S͕͖̭͉͖̭ ̦̣̣̗͈̣S̨̬O͡ͅỌ̖̳̙̗̥̼N̴͖̲̗͕͔ ҉̪
̧͔̥M͈͉͖̼̩A͝Y̺̗̝̼̪͘ḨA̻̥͈͓̱͜P͈̩͚̟̻̬S̱̀ W͕̳̰E̯̣̥͓̘̯̖ ͉̲͈͚̗W̼̟̲I̶̗͎̮̩̞L̤̪̖̞͍̥L̻̯͝ ̫̱̼̱̮M̹̼͚E̪̺̲͙E̯̟̝T̘̠͈͢ ͏̟A͈G̟͖̞̜̲͓͇A̪̜̤͍̭̦͙I̖̭̠̞͈̣͜ͅN̫̟͈͚͔,͏͕̩͙ ̸̙͎̬͉͕̦͉C̡̺̗͈͉̤̲̘R̵E̖̭͍͕̳̗̥A̴̙̲̻̭̝̮T̮̻͍̭U͎̪̯̼R͟E͍̣̥͝ͅͅ ͙̦̘̣ͅ
-Soon, silence. The lord of the swamps has returned to his rightful place, confused memories of battles and strange food-things fading already.-
Narumi went with Mason into the portal, drifting off to sleep.
Narumi soon found himself in a church hall. Many people were there. He saw in front of him and saw a man standing there in front of a priest. It was obvious that it was a wedding. Soon, the doors behind him opened and he saw the bride. His daughter.
"What are you waiting for? Isn't this what you want?" A familiar voice called out to him. Narumi hesitated as his daughter passed by him, as if he was never there. He soon caught on that he was a ghost. Not fearing what would happen to his daughter, he hooked his arm into her arm and escorted her down the isle to her groom. When the escort was done, Narumi turned behind and saw Phi, but this time, he wasn't red. His hair was blue and was dressed in a normal school uniform rather than his tank top and short shorts. He also lacked the Tron Lines.
"So, Narumi, you ready to go now? You've been holding this off for quite a while." Phi said.
"Yeah... Just one second..." Narumi said as he looked at his daughter seal the wedding with a kiss. "Now I am..." Narumi said.
"Let's go then." Phi said as he walked out of the church, fading away. Narumi followed him, also fading away.
When Narumi woke up, he was in Nam. Narumi put the worries of how he will cope with both the new world and his wounds out of his head. While he was dead in his world, he could hopefully start a new, Gaia Memory free life in a time he's familiar with.
And so ends the extended tale of Sokichi Narumi. However, the Legacy of Kamen Rider...
Has another chapter...
edited 24th Jul '11 8:36:10 AM by Psyga315
Mason walked through the portal. After a short firefight, he got Narumi to a hospital, and got Narumi a detective job in DC. All was well.
edited 24th Jul '11 8:36:36 AM by GeekCodeRed
A weak chuckle issued forth from Lambda's mouth in response to Rey's words, only for him to spasm violently partway through it as a coughing fit wracked his body for a few moments; when it abated, the argent Nomad's lower lip was smattered with flecks of silver blood...and if Rey were particularly attentive, he might notice that positively minuscule dots of red had appeared in the center of these bloody flecks.
"You certainly have...come a long way from there, haven't you, Mysterio?" the silver Nomad said, slowly shaking his head as though in nostalia or irony. "From the confused, inexperienced and powerless man who could rightly have...been described as the weakest of his peers, to the man...who spat in the eye of a god and in so doing ended him...truly, your growth was remarkable."
Rho, her body in somewhat better shape than her husband's, was able to sit up without any assistance...although not without difficulty; it was clear from her pained expression that even this simple act was agonizing in the utmost, and rising to her feet was clearly out of the question.
"Of course we closed them," the violet Nomad said to Saren, answering his question on her husband's behalf. "We wouldn't let a threat of such magnitude fester and swell until it can't be dealt with; when my husband reconfigured this chamber so that it would return to its original specifications, we also made certain to isolate the contaminated portals of which you spoke and nip that problem in the bud."
As she spoke, an observer might notice that parts of her long hair were undergoing a strange shift in colour and hue, losing their violet tint in favour of a more natural, if still somewhat exotic, red colouration. This transition was gradual, and did not appear to begin at any one spot in particular; part of it began at her roots, while one lock began to shift at the very end of her hairs. Furthermore, the glowing geometric tattoos which covered the bodies of both Nomads were slowly beginning to dim and flicker, like a light that was running out of power.
"I better go then. I'm not staying here any longer..."
Spriggan said before he shook hands with Rey and Lux. He then looked back at them before walking through the portal.
"I just hope you two can get back to your places safely or to some safe haven. Especially you Rey."
He then walked to the portal.
"You better get back to your family real soon."
"Hopefully we can meet in better circumstances."
A week later, Spriggan had been deployed to Georgia in securing ethnic Georgian refugees to escape from Ossetian militias alongside several TGS Special Operations Unit squads.
He had managed to save most of them while nearly being killed. His comrades, on the other hand, sustained casualties in protecting the refugees before they were sent back to Tbilisi.
However, his actions were not documented and instead, were credited to Georgian Interior Ministry units.
Craft took one last look at everyone still in the room, committing their faces to memory. That task completed, he half-stumbled toward his own portal.
" Remember me, " he said quietly, almost too softly to hear. " Remember me... and my mistakes. "
Here goes... Not bothering to wait for a response, he stepped beyond the portal threshold, feeling as though he were falling from a great height.
And then it all went black.
Craft's eye fluttered open, and the reploid took a laboured, shuddering breath. Nearby, computers chirped as they displayed different readouts. He was alone in the control centre of Ragnarok. Obviously, Zero hadn't stuck around to check that he was dead. Not that it would matter in a few minutes, though. He knew that he was back where he started, dying from extensive wounds. This time, however, there would be no miraculous escape. There would be no chance of him being whisked away to be used as a puppet in some grand multiversal amusement.
Craft thought about Neige. Did she know that he was all but dead? How would she take the news? The idea stung, and he reflexively tried to avoid thinking about it further.
He also mulled over bitterly the fact that all of his experiences, all of those people from strange places, and all of those wild and at times fantastical places were for naught. Nobody would hear his story. Watching a few spindly rivers of lubricant and oil trickle out from his body, Craft felt a sharp, biting cold grip him. It spread slowly at first, but it soon began to consume his whole being.
Perhaps it was fear. Perhaps it was regret. He would never know the reasons why, but a small, steady stream of tears worked their way down Craft's scarred features. It was, perhaps, the last emotional release of a reploid who knew that it was the end. He felt his mind slipping away.
His last thought was simply "Neige".
Hope groaned slightly as he came round, and realised Snow was carrying him on his back as he staggered through the alleyways of Palumpolum.
Was... was any of that real? Or did I just imagine it?
However, he could feel something in his back pocket that wasn't there when he was up on the ledge.
It was only later, once he'd reunited with Lighting and the group had revealed the situation to his father, that he found out what it was.
It was a photo of the group, taken just after the end, whilst they were celebrating. But how it came to be in his pocket in the first place was still a mystery, as was the message written on the back in his own handwriting.
Don't forget them. No matter what.
Hope looked up, and smiled. It hadn't been a dream after all...
edited 25th Jul '11 5:28:36 AM by Deadbeatloser22
Rey smiled slightly at Lambda's words, just nodding slightly. "Yeah...I guess you could say I have. We all have." Rey glanced to Saren and Luxanna, chewing his lip.
Lambda looked as though he were about to say something in response to this, but then apparently thought better of it and shook his head as a wry smile spread across his face for the briefest of instants. Even as he made this gesture, the argent Nomad's tattoos continued to grow dimmer and dimmer, flickering with ever-increasing frequency like a candle whose flame was on the verge of going out; simultaneously, were Rey to look into the silver god's one good eye, he might notice that the pupil was changing colour from metallic grey to sky blue, and the jet-black sclera had gradually begun to pale and turn white.
A faint sound like ice cracking came from the general vicinity of Lambda's legs, and the silver god blinked as he looked down to see what had caused it. What remained of his leg armour had lost all of its remaining lustre and appeared to have turned extremely brittle; cracks had begun to spread across metal boots and argent greaves, and chunks of the Nomad's calf protective legwear, large and small alike, had begun to break off and crumble into dust.
Lambda stared at this phenomenon for a moment, then closed his eye and let out what might have been a sigh of resignation. "It seems that it is time," he said at length, his voice weary and tired all of a sudden. "If you could help me to my feet, Mysterio, it would be much appreciated. Luxanna, if you could do the same for my wife?"
Lux nodded and wordlessly moved to assist Rho, or Asuka, or Aska, one of however many or a fragment of a however long continuity this Nomad represented.
Rey nodded, helping Lambda as gently as he could, looking over to Luxanna as he did.
Lambda grimaced as Rey lifted him onto his feet, the remnants of his armour continuing to crumble and fragment as, with the luchador's assistance, he took a few steps towards the portal which Iota had conjured such a short while earlier; though the armour, disintegrating as it currently was, was no longer fused in place and keeping him from moving his legs, the steps the argent deity made were weak, irregular and hesitant, and he leaned heavily on Rey for support. The silver Nomad's geometric tattoos were all but extinguished at this point, and as he drew closer to the portal, to the peaceful and idyllic landscape which lay beyond it, faint tongues of silver-grey smoke seemed to issue forth from his body and he appeared to shrink, gradually yet noticeably, going from a relative giant at almost ten feet in height to scarcely a head taller than Rey himself; too, the argent deity's badly-injured dark grey flesh grew brighter and paler in colouration, and the exposed arteries, sinews and bones of his mangled left arm turned from primarily grey and silver to more natural hues of red, pink and white bleached with yellow.
With Lux, Rho was much the same, her violet tattoos fading in luminance with every passing second and her hair assuming a more natural auburn colouration; like her husband, she seemed to diminish in stature with every step she took. Her gaze was slightly downcast and did not seem to be focused on anything in particular, and whatever emotions she might have been feeling at the moment, the female Nomad kept a tight leash on them.
Once they were a few feet from the portal, the two Nomads silently came to a halt in unison and disengaged from Rey and Lux; for a few moments they simply stood there, swaying unsteadily as they stared into the portal's depths with unreadable expressions. Then, as one, they turned to look at one another and exchanged a long, silent gaze that seemed pregnant with something not readily apparent; after a moment of maintaining this gaze, Rho gave her husband a faint smile that was clearly meant to reassure him, and seconds later he returned the gesture...albeit with tears welling up in his one good eye.
The two sidled closer to one another, glanced over their shoulders at Rey and Lux, and each nodded once at the two Champions in farewell; then, without further ado, Lambda wrapped his right arm tightly about Rho's waist as she did the same with her left—and, slowly, cautiously, supporting one another, they stepped through the portal, vanishing from sight into its rippling depths.
Lux leaned a little closer to Rey as she watched them go, with a slight- albeit distant- smile. "See, Rey? Even the Nomads need a happy ending, when this is all done..."
— Saren simply harrumphed, looking at the two humans.—
So I'm stuck with the pair of you now. I'm not going to last very long, in that case.
edited 24th Jul '11 9:54:30 PM by Colonial1.1
Iota nodded as the two former Nomads left through the portal, then turned away and walked to where the shadow currently was. At about double his arms length from the shadow, he stopped and stared, as if analysing it.
Rey nodded slightly, looking to Lux, then to Saren. "So...we'll be together?"
The shadow stared back at Iota for a few moments, its smile fixed firmly in place; then, with an ever-so-faint quirk of the corners of its seeming mouth, the shade brought its hands together—and the sound of very real clapping and applause rang out as it slowly vanished from sight, the sounds more appropriate to the audience of some grand opera rather than a single individual. Even after the shadow was gone altogether, this spectral round of applause persisted for far longer than should have been possible; it took nearly a minute and a half for the disembodied clapping and cheering to wind down and subside, and even when it had done so a faint background murmur seemed to fill the ballroom for a few seconds before this too fell silent.
Iota stared at the spot that the shadow had vacated for a few more minutes, then turned around and walked over to the cube.
"I shall be taking my leave now."
Picking it up, he held it in his hands for a few moments, before hurling it at a wall, where it burst into a golden portal. The sounds of a battlefield could be heard faintly.
"I have a war to stop."
Placing the second scythe on his back, Itoa walked up to the portal before turning back to those still remaining.
"Do not worry, for Digamma will fail, for one simple reason."
Iota then entered the portal.
"Death wins. Death always wins in the end."
And with that, the portal closed, shutting out the sounds of battle. Will it ever open again? Who knows? But for now, there were no more Nomads. The room was completely quiet.
edited 25th Jul '11 6:33:19 PM by Makuta9999
This post was thumped by the Eldritch Flyswatter of Horror
Though the shadow had vanished from the wall and its presence had departed, leaving Saren, Rey and Lux alone with their thoughts, its scrutiny of their actions had not abated in the slightest. For even at that very moment, in a place so far away from the Champions' current location as to be considered divorced from their reality altogether, the owner of that shadow continued its observations, watching them in silence with what could best be likened to an air of satisfied amusement.
The being to which the shadow belonged, in indeed such a term was accurate, differed radically from its umbral emissary in ways both subtle and overt, yet they could neither be tallied nor qualified for it defied description; so vast was it, so ineffable in almost every respect, that the human mind simply could not fathom could not accept, could not even consider, the notion that such an entity might actually be real, and any attempts to rationalize its existence resulted in their perceiving of a form that, while invariably staggering in some way or another, fell far short of the mark when it came to conveying its true nature. Its precise location, too, was a mystery that defied answers; those few who had been unfortunate enough to find themselves within the entity's abode, either by chance or design, perceived a world of contradictions and paradoxes, of yawning emptiness and oppressively finite space, of a complete absence of everything contrasted with a presence that seemed to compose everything...and they seldom lived long enough to relate their tales to anyone else.
This, then, was a place that wary travellers of the multiverse spoke of in hushed whispers and few hoped to encounter for any reason in the midst of their journeys. They called it the Outer Void, a place which existed beyond reality as they understood it, and whatever dwelt inside it they referred to by any number of names.
Though their attempts at ascribing a semblance of understanding to it by giving it an appelation had provoked little more than amusement, the entity would have been remiss if it did not admit that it possessed a certain fondness for one appelation in particular. Simple yet fitting, it conveyed exactly as much and as little as was desired, and without qualm it had adopted the title.
Alone in the empty void which it called home, the Outsider, as it now referred to itself when interaction with lesser beings was necessary (a rare occurence, to be sure, but it never hurt to be prepared) had swiftly grown bored with its current state of affairs; existing outside of the multiverse proper, and unable to enter it except in the most minuscule fashion, its only relief from the monotony of its isolated, solitary existence lay in observation of the games and trials which the beings known as Nomads forced their mortal pawns to endure. the struggles, triumphs and tragedies of the Champions, combined with the arrogant postering and melodrama of their purportedly divine overseers, had proven a nigh inexhaustible source of amusement for the Outsider, and recent events were no exception; from the arrival of the devourer Unicron in the skies above the lifeless laboratory world of the Nomads to the cataclysmic end of the one called Digamma, this day had proven to be one of—if not not the—greatest spectacles it had witnessed in its unfathomably long life.
The satisfaction it felt at being privvy to this turn of events was marred somewhat by the knowledge that, between the Nomads' internecine conflict and the interventions of an unknown entity, the game of gods had at last come to an end, and it was once again without a source of entertainment. Yet it had known this would occur—one of many advantages afforded to a being who existed outside of time and space as humans understood the concept—and had taken steps to ensure that another diversion would soon come into existence.
And so, even as Rey, Lux and Saren began the long process of settling in to their new life in that interdimensional manse, the Outsider turned its attention to a different point in the tangled skein of reality, observing another universe so far removed from that tiny pocket of the Deeps that it was inconceivable to think that they should ever intersect for any reason...
And in that plane of existence, Cover Agent Ravage of the Predacon Secret Police came online with a start. The transmetal shook his head violently back and forth in an effort to clear the static from his processors, bringing a servo up to his cranium as he slowly opened his optics. His memory files were somewhat fuzzy, but he recalled much of what had occured; however, his time with the humans felt vague and indistinct—unreal. Had that been nothing more than some manner of glitch, the final flickers of a Spark about to be extinguished?
As his vision cleared and he took in his appearance, realization that his assumption was false dawned on him and the transmetal's muzzle split open in a grin of vindication and triumph. This was not the body he had inhabited when he had first come to prehistoric Earth in his transwarp cruiser so very, very long ago to eradicate the renegade and his crew, and nor was it the misshapen and horrendously technorganic shell he had possessed during much of his time as a prisoner of the Nomads; instead, it was the sleek and angular body which he had modified himself into during his conversion into a Headmaster, and he flexed his matte black talons in appreciation of the fine craftsmanship. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the towering transtector was present as well; slumped in one corner of his current location and headless, it awaited his mental command to activate and attach himself to its neck, thereby giving him the size and firepower of a true Decepticon warrior.
As he cast his gaze about, the operative realized that he was on the bridge of his ship...or if not the transwarp cruiser he had been given by the Tripredacus Council, then a reasonable facsimile thereof. The controls and pilot's seat appeared to have been modified slightly in order to accept his substantially-altered form, and as he sat himself down and slid his hands into the interface slots, Ravage could not help but loose a faint sigh of victory. He had escaped, just as he knew he would; and while his memory may have been somewhat scrambled, he took satisfaction in the fact that he must have pulled at least one of the slagging Nomads limb from limb before he attained his freedom.
Yet now was not the time for rest and relaxation, oh no; the epiphany he had received during his time as a Champion, forced though it may have been, had taught him a valuable lesson—and now, it was time to put that lesson to good use.
"Engage transwarp drive," he commanded, smiling faintly when his ship's computer acknowledged his order. "It is time to rebuild and start anew; no more skulking in the shadows, and no more bowing down to rulers unworthy of the title. Decepticons, forever!"
And with that shout, the great engines of the Predacon's powerful warship flared to life, and it shot forth into the depths of space and time. In the cockpit, Ravage's optics gleamed with barely-restrained savage glee at the thought of what was to come; soon, the war would begin anew. The universe cowered once before the name of the Decepticons, and soon, it would do so again...they all would.
So fixated was he on thoughts of future glory and conquest that the Cybertronian failed to notice a brief fluctuation in his Spark, or the fact that his arms were limned with a strange corona of noxious, multihued energy for a moment...
The game of gods was over...but the Blight was just beginning.
" I assure you, that I only attempted to act out of my best interests," the defendant pleaded, the stern gazes of his compatriots cowing him. Nevertheless, he realized that his political maneuvering and genuine attempts were the only way to get out of the mess that his altruistic actions had gotten him into. The jury he faced, even though he knew them well, were clearly outraged by what he had one, and he knew that this particular crime against the strict laws that he faced everyday would not go unpunished like some of his other deeds. " You did not know what Omega was capable of, nor the weapon that he had created. Had I not interfered and brought an end to his madness, then it is likely- nay, probable- that the multiverse, at least, as we know it, would have been destroyed. Despite our mission, despite what we tell ourselves constantly, not even we can profess to know everything about the nature of reality, or the actions of its inhabitants."
" How dare you?" retorted the leader of the tribunal. " We know enough about the nature of your transgression, and the fact that you knowingly commited the greatest of sins- sins that may doom us all now. You know our deception can only last if all willingly take part, and you have just broken our veil of secrecy and put our ambitions in great jeopardy."
The defendant could not help it, the sudden uprising of emotion that he felt, despite his millenia-long attempts to seperate himself from them. " What ambition? What do any of us do besides selfishly preen ourselves, deriding the actions of our ancestors and mourning the loss of our comrades? You are selfish; you care not for the greater universe, only for the sake of our deception. You deride the Nomads for being a lost race; have we not strayed down a similar path? Ask yourself that." he pracitcally spat at the tribunal leader. " If I am to be executed, then you will kill the last hope of ambition and altruism that our damnable race has ever had since the Exodus."
The leader of the tribunal simply regarded him coldly, as a man might regard a dead insect on the sole of his shoe, before turning to the other two members of the jury. " We are to pass judgement now. You are to remain in your place. Any attempts to influence our decision will be met with instant death. All members of the jury?"
" Guilty." said one.
" Guilty." agreed the judge.
" Innocent." said the last, although he was met with a similarily cold stare from the tribunal leader.
" You are judged to be guilty." said the tribunal leader. " You are hereby sentenced to execution."
The defendant's eyes grew large as he realized his ultimate fate. " No.. you... would not... could not... not to your own brother... you... you..." His voice was wracked with shock and horroer as he realized exactly what kind of execution his former 'brothers' had set up for him. But whatever plea he had to voice was swiftly cut off as his body faded from this plane of existence, only for an earsplitting scream of agony to rattle the ceiling above, it too fading after a few moments.
" An unfitting end for our 'brother'," said one of the jury members, perhaps with a pang of empathy in his voice.
" He jeopardized us all; and we, I included, must remind ourselves that lawbreaking will not be tolerated. Now, we have much work to do. After all, there is always much to be done..."
And, somewhere else...
Ḯ͋ͨ ̍͆̊st͗ͪ̋i̓i̊ͧi̓̈́ͣ̄͊̌ͤl ̂̑ͩͥ̿̊̔l̂i͑̓ͪͭ̓̂ iͬͩ́̉i͑ͮͬͥìͯ̎ï̍͂ͬ̀ͥiiiͮi͗̇ii ͤͣͮ̿̈́͌͛i̽̽ͥ̿ͩͤ̚iͮ͛̏̀iͩͤ̄̌v̂ͤ̒̄͆̐ė.̐̐̽.̌ͮͤ͋ͥ.̐̐̊
edited 29th Aug '11 8:10:56 PM by Locoman
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