I'm of the opinion that the Cragmites from Ratchet & Clank: Tools of Destruction are maybe the most perfectly hyped enemy in video games.
The whole game you're basically told that the cragmites were unstoppable and that the lombaxes pulled a hail mary to stop them, saving the entire universe. Not the Galaxy, the ENTIRE UNIVERSE. Then you find out they weren't destroyed they had to be moved to a different universe with a wormhole device because that's how dangerous they were. And when they finally come back they hit like fucking trucks, have a huge ass health pool, can fucking teleport and can do that annoying thing where when you kill them they split up into smaller enemies. You really do get the idea of that if Ratchet and Clank hadn't stopped them the way they did they would have just crawled over the universe just like Tachyon said
Origin comic part 4, where the past is revealed, while the future remains uncertain.Clip paint definitely upgraded everything lol. Also the next part is what I've been so hyped for, so I can't wait to draw it to it's full potential. @wolfcha1k
“Tachyon's Empire fell. Alister's plan was stopped. The Dimensionator is broken, but it isn't over. Something else, more treacherous than time, has been awakened after eons of sleep and the villains have ganged together to seek it out. Ratchet and Clank must find it first. With secrets and lies of the past coming apart all around them, reality itself isn't what it seems. “
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9841585/1/Lifeforce
This is my oc, Ickabar, and a fan-species related to All 4 One’s Loki, the Thora.
"Words can be said in bitterness and anger, and often there seems to be an element of truth in the nastiness. And words don't go away, they just echo around."
-Jane Goodall
The Robot That Breathes
.............
He couldn't escape.
The fire was everywhere, the ash was everywhere. Every turn to took was blocked off by a falling victim or toppling wall; tumbling buildings all around him. He wondered when he would be next, when his luck would run out, when he would join the people in death that he now tripped over. Their lives had ended so fast, and their legacy consisted of hindering others from escaping the same fate. Faceless bodies blocking the road
His hands were out in front of him, throwing back doors, shoving rubble out of the way. They scrabbled like a rat's paws over a mound of debris; the fur pale and ragged, stained red with blood and things he didn't dare think of. Around him his ears where numbed; the chorus of screams and the deadly symphony of blasting, crackling and shooting blended into a muffled, muted background tremble.
His breathing became the thing that stood out from all the noise. In and out, raspy and heavy. He couldn't exactly feel himself breathing; it happened by itself. His body was so desperate to keep on living that it wasn't listening to his head anymore. He knew he couldn't stop running if he wanted to.
Then he saw him. Someone was treading through the chaos; slow and uneven, going the opposite way of the screaming civilians sprinting past him. Gripping his shoulder, he was moving towards something in the fog; the fog created by smoke and ash and dust from the fire and broken buildings. The shape was giant and towering; its feet stomping through the ground, crushing he remnants of people and homes beneath it. Spider-like and steady amongst the broken place.
He tried to call out to the familiar figure, the person he knew going right towards it...but his voice was lost in the blasts, carried off by the deadly wind. The sky itself seemed to be made of fire. Orange and red, everywhere.
The giant spider-like figure came through the musk and dust towards the person. The person, bloodied and slumped, slowly raised his head to meet his eye...
"What is he doing?"
"He'll be killed..."
"Run! run!"
...............
He could have thought of anything else in this situation. He could have had his life, muddled and precarious it had been, flash before his eyes. He could be contemplating escape, or witty last words, or a farewell to the two other unfortunates strapped beside him. Alas, all Ratchet could think was that the giant beam pointed directly down at them resembled an oversized dentist needle.
Not that this made it any less threatening.
The needle-like end of the beam looked sharp as razor and gleamed against the light reflecting off the ship walls. Ratchet's arms where held down at his sides; Clank on his left, Qwark on his right. Trisby dangled by the neck from one of the minion's fists. Why she hadn't been included was beyond him- maybe it was because Qwark took up too much room on the death table they lay on.
"How do you like the Seven-Second Assassinator?" Nefarious's oddly smooth voice remarked from somewhere behind them. In his position, Ratchet could only twist his neck a little to see him. He was rubbing his sharp hands together in a typical villain manner, looking far too calm.
"Uhh, I already had a check-up on my teeth, Thanks..." Ratchet managed to say, though his tone wavered. Trisby coughed slightly, not struggling, but rather eyeing her surroundings. The lombax hoped she had some form of a plan. He certainly hadn't. He didn't expect there to be any little Zoni waiting around to save them this time.
Nefarious's face fell into a twitchy-eyed frown of indignation. He leered over the table, Ratchet's eyes widening at the insanity gleaming in the robot's mug, "Oh, you're hysterical as usual, Furball. Let's see you mock my handiwork when it turns you into a pile of smouldering ash."
"Just Ratchet, or...ah." Qwark's sentence trailed off when Nefarious, and Ratchet, shot him a heated glare. Nefarious straightened up, swirling dramatically around, "Set chargers!"
The hum of electricity passing through the oversized cables to the death machine gradually raised to an ominous rumble and the surface they were strapped on trembled a little; not that it was needed with Qwark already shivering like mad. Clank lifted his head the best he could and scanned their surroundings keenly with robotic eyes as Nefarious broke into a shriek-like round of hysterical laughter.
Ratchet stared upwards at the needle-like point of the beam, watching as it slowly drew power and began rippling with light. He found the scenario strangely familiar, and despite the situation he wondered what it could be...
There was an ear-shattering crash to his left- and every head present jerked around fast to see what it was. Ratchet's already dilated pupils became even more pin-pointed when he saw the giant double-doors leading into the Landing Dock had been thrown open as if they were as light as cardboard- and a familiar metal figure swooped in, body positioned in a kick.
The Armoured lombax landed in a low, agile crouch and straightened up almost casually, helmet-clad head set towards them. Nefarious and his minions had been trapped in shock for about five seconds before Nefarious's temper blasted to its full, his voice staggering with disbelief,
"W-What are you dunces waiting for?! GET him!" He pointed a furiously trembling finger at the lombax, and instantly the minions pounced. The armoured figure leaped up in the air, unusually high, and aimed a powerful kick to the face of the first minion, no weapon in his hand. Ratchet felt for a second he couldn't possibly win unarmed- but as a second minion reached to grab his arm, he saw the taller lombax jerk it forward and punch it in the face.
A third came, the lombax now surrounded. It charged at him with the others, but he spun around it and grabbed the back of its head, and Ratchet's heart leaped in admiration as he used the minion to whack another in the face, then block the shot of another with its body, effectively destroying it.
"This isn't Annihilation Nation, Ratchet, we can't sit and watch." Clank commented from beside him, already beginning to try and wriggle from his bounds. Ratchet blinked, forcing his attention away from the armoured lombax that was tearing apart the confused minions with his bare hands,
"Eeer, yeaah..." Nefarious's pistol appeared right between his eyes; bonking against his fur. Clank stiffened and Qwark looked as if he's sucked his lips into his mouth in fright, beady eyes bulging.
Nefarious was shaking with a strange sort of fury; Ratchet couldn't quite place it, but something seemed off about him. But, he frowned the best he could in his position as Nefarious's grating voice growled from above,
"You're not going anywhere, Squshie- I'll end you right now if I have to!"
"Something's different about you, Nefarious. If I did not know any better, I would say you were...worried." Clank's confident, smooth voice spoke up beside Ratchet's shoulder. Ratchet wondered what in the world- or rather, space station, he was thinking. Poking a Nefarious's mind when he had a pistol pointed between your best friend's eyes was not what he would call Clank-Level Tactic.
"Uh, Clank..."
Neither robot appeared to have heard him. The pistol slid over and was now against Clank's circular little head, Nefarious leering down at him, to which he replied as usual with an narrowed glare, "Oh, don't give me your little mind-game tricks, Backpack! You think just because I got stranded with you three morons that your words would get to me."
"Perhaps not, but the fact that you have gotten yourself into a bad situation with the other two villains is." Clank said, eyes narrowed till his they were barely even open. Nefarious looked ready to maim, but his anger made him too slow to get in a comeback before Clank continued keenly, "You know as well as we do that they plan to double cross you- all of you do. All three of you are probably certain that you will manage it first... but Nefarious. You are not like them."
"Ha!" Nefarious's pistol pushed against Clank's small head, hitting it back against the table with an audible clang, "I planned on wiping out the whole population of organics in the entire Galaxy! If I had managed the damage to your Goody-Two-Shoes universe would have been just as bad as theirs!"
"But you didn't do it, Nefarious. And I think deep down you know you would never manage it." Ratchet and Qwark stared at Clank, Qwark's mouth slightly open. Neither of them dared to speak. Then again, the two robots didn't notice them at all. Nefarious looked like he was panting- panting. A robot panting with rage. It was a horrible, gong-like reminder that this crazy, organic-hating scientist had once been as blood-filled and air-breathing as them. He seemed too angry to form words.
"Nefarious, this time things are different." Clank said, relentless and undeterred, "This time, if you continue, you yourself will be destroyed."
Nefarious let out a quiet, raspy laugh- as forced as they come, his voice dangerously low. "You think I'll let those...those twerps destroy me? No...I plan to get rid of them right after I deal with you three..."
"We can stop them together, Nefarious. You know what they want is too much." Clank said as plainly as he could. Ratchet became aware- eerily aware- that the only noise present was his voice, and the rumbling of power through the large death beam above them. But the background racket had ceased...the minions where no longer fighting...
The lombax slowly turned his head, so Nefarious was not alerted, back to the armoured lombax- and found he wasn't there. Qwark gave a squeak behind him and he twisted his head around to look at him- and saw his wide eyes looking at something directly behind Nefarious.
Ratchet's head spun around- and there was the armoured lombax, standing upon the remains of the minion that had held Trisby; holding its club-like arm above Nefarious's head. Against the light of the beam, his figure looked more menacing than the robot about to kill them.
Crack.
Clank saw him at the last moment; right when Nefarious had been hit, the glass making up his long head cracking on impact. Nefarious fell to the side, landing on the ground with an audible clanking sound. Ratchet, Clank and Qwark stared up at the metal-clad lombax, all their jaws hanging ajar.
"..."
"Well, that was fun." An indifferent yet somehow sarcastic voice called from nearby- and their awe-struck gazes turned to Trisby, who stood upon the control panel nearby. Casually she continued, "But I think we should be heading off now..."
That said, she leaned against a large button and the machine above them powered down and the tight restraints keeping the two heroes (and Qwark) held on the table unlocked. Ratchet sat up, his whole body numb and stiff. He gave his wrists a rub.
"Th-thanks.." He managed to murmur- and he found himself unable to look back up at the quiet lombax still standing over him. Trisby rolled her eyes,
"Where's my Thank-You?"
"Thank You, Trisby." Clank said, beaming. Trisby tried not to grin at the shameless politeness that was Clank, but failed as she tried to glare at him and ended up smirking.
"Sooo...Can we uh, go?" Qwark's shaky voice enquired as he hoped off the table. Or rather, he got up and nearly stumbled into the control panels, his large legs trembling from nerves still.
"Y-Yeah..." Ratchet suddenly remembered that this was still Orange's base...and that Nefarious only had that giant weapon of his teleported in. Maybe he'd driven Orange out and taken this place for himself, the lombax found himself thinking hopefully. Maybe the crazy cook was gone.
"Hellloooooo..."
Every nerve, every blood vessel, every hair on his body shuddered in unease. His posture stiffened, as did that of everyone else's, and they all slowly turned their heads towards the large, open doorway of the landing dock.
Maybe Orange had his base overtaken...but not anymore. The person who had done that lay unconscious at their feet, his head reciting quiet replays of Lance and Janice.
Ratchet saw Orange, his head slightly bloodied but his grin even more insane than it had been the last time he'd seen him, his eyes so impossibly wide that Ratchet was almost sure they'd leap out of his head. Behind him, a horde of thugs brandishing sharp and loaded weapons stood, sneering at them.
Qwark dived back behind the table with a terrified squeal, Clank leaping over to stand beside Ratchet. The yellow lombax slid off the table onto his feet, eerily aware that they were still weapon-less. Their things lay in a pile at the end of the Landing Dock, too far to grab before the goons charged. But they didn't come just yet.
Orange let out a slow, merry giggle, stepping forward. His hands, down by his sides, looked odd: his fingers spread out, as if he wanted to grab something. "Well, well, well..."
Ratchet saw him looking past him at the armoured lombax beside him, whose covered head faced back in stony silence. There was no mistake; they knew each other.
"My favourite playmate all the way back here in Polaris." Orange chimed, his body beginning to tremble, clearly dying to move, to main something. Ratchet felt like stepping away even though he was all the way on the other side of the Docks; meters away.
"We are leaving." Clank said, Ratchet too unnerved to speak, Qwark being useless and Trisby too busy glaring, "You are interfering with Galactic Authority. We are attempting to save this Universe from destruction- if we do not succeed you too shall be destroyed!"
"Nhahaha!" Orange stepped even closer, eyes narrowed now, hands up and curling, "Oh, I've only began my fun, and now that he's here...things are going to get very, very interesting..."
Ratchet looked up once again at the armoured lombax. "...Uh...if you don't mind me asking, who are you...?"
The metal-covered head finally turned to look down at him, and the orange visor in front of where the lombax's eyes should be bore down at him. He had the distinct feeling he was glaring.
"...Er, are ya gonna tell me, or...?"
The taller lombax poked him in the forehead, and Ratchet blinked, going quiet. Trisby slowly looked around.
"...Don't want to alarm anyone, but we should be going. Now."
The thugs where beginning to advance, Orange standing and watching the group before him with savage-like glee. He placed his hands behind his back and grinned.
"There's a ship behind us- run!" Trisby called. As soon as she did, Qwark bolted back towards one of the idle ships in the Dock- and the thugs charged at them like a pack of hungry tetramites. Ratchet and Clank, completely unarmed, turned and sprinted back as well. As he ran he realized that in order to escape they'd have to leave their weapons, including his beloved Omniwrench...
The thugs howled in pain behind him. Ratchet turned his head and gave a horrified gasp when he saw the armoured lombax had leaped back into the fray, beginning to fight a battle that would most certainly turn bloody.
"Ratchet, we must go!" Clank called from the ramp leading up to the boxy-looking ship. "He is doing this so we may escape!"
"He just saved us!" The thugs had swarmed around the armour-wearing lombax, almost forgetting about them.
"Ratchet-"
He didn't listen. Without Clank, he sprinted over to their weapons, wasting what he knew where precious seconds, and snatched up his wrench and began running back towards the thugs. Orange had slid, snake-like, through his men and towards the armoured lombax, raising what looked like a horrible curled sickle.
With a maddened grin, he pounced on him, and the thugs jeered, forming a semi-circle around the two, jabbing at the masked lombax with their weapons.
But he paid no attention. He saw Ratchet coming as he blocked a blow from Orange's sickle with his protected arm, and Ratchet skidded to a halt, raising his wrench, planning a boomerang throw when something he couldn't quite explain happened.
The taller lombax had leaped towards him and grabbed him by the scruff and threw him. A throw so powerful Ratchet found himself flying back towards the get-away ship that was meters away, slamming right into Qwark.
Ratchet cried out as it happened, his insides churning- as he'd been thrown, the whole dock itself seemed to have shaken. For some crazed reason Orange was laughing hysterically. The last thing he saw before the ship door slid shut, and Trisby piloted the ship towards the exit of the base, was the armoured lombax turning back to Orange, blocking one more swipe of the sickle before his form vanished beneath the sea of blood-thirsty thugs.
........
Fergus Mgive surveyed the sorry excuse for a garden behind the Care Home Facility. It was here the unfortunate residents of the place would gather, though most stayed clear of the dusty, barren area of land when he was sitting there.
He wrinkled his nose, eyeing door a weak looking path of desert grass nearby. It poked through the hard ground from some cracks; wilting and drooped, reminding him a lot of the postures of the people living here. It wasn't a cheery place.
Fergus, his fur paler still than the desert rocks he lay on, leaned back and placed his hands behind his head. The braid hanging down by his temple fell lethargically past his wrist; bumping against it. It was quiet.
He was in a foul mood today, and a certain rival cragmite of his wasn't there to have it taken out on him. He and his green foster brother, whom Fergus knew as the stiff, emotionless Raymas Lars, had gone out for an unknown reason. He didn't care. Even though he knew them probably more than he knew anyone else, he didn't call them his friends.
Then, a little pattering sound caught his ear. It twitched and he directed his gaze away from the cloudless sky and to the owner of the sound...and rose a brow.
Standing before him, as always completely blanched out from the sepia landscape of the area, was Ickabar Locksher. The little, random so-and-so usually seen skipping behind the aforementioned cragmite jerk. He held a little notepad in his hands, placed before him as if he'd been looking at it as he walked. Fergus regarded him with disinterest as well as giving him a questioning glare.
Ickabar didn't seem intimidated by him as he usually did. Fergus was surprised; usually the younger lombax saw him as the 'mean boy' who picked on his beloved big brother. But, he was smiling at him happily.
"Happy Birthday, Fer-gus." The six-year old warbled. Fergus's eyes widened.
Birthdays weren't happy times here. Just a reminder that you had no family to share it with; and of course the forced compassion from the staff, and the mocking Birthday cake with that cheap icing that tasted like sweetened clay.
He wasn't cheered by the fact it was his birthday, but Ickabar sure seemed so. Fergus just stared at him incuriously, his eyebrow raised right up till it threatened to slip over the back of his head.
Ickabar held out a piece of paper that he'd removed from his notepad- that turned out to be a drawing one. Fergus found himself staring at a picture of a birthday cake, well detailed and coloured carefully in blue and green. A very good drawing other than the letters spelling' Happy Birthday Fergus' said 'Hapi Birfday Fergus' instead.
"I wanted to buy you one, but I didn't have any money." Ickabar said in a soft, warbling voice, hands behind his back as he rocked shyly back and forth on his ankles, looking up at him with that timid smile of his, head down, "So I drew you one...instead..."
"..."
It had to be the most random thing that had ever happened to him. For once in what felt like a lifetime, the sides of Fergus's mouth seemed to want to twitch up in a smile. But it didn't. A silence followed, spread through the backyard.
