based on this image of Jacob fighting Grandfather. He just loooves the young people.
The space inside the robot’s chest cavity was cramped. Meant to store props like fake coffee cups, homework, and if the Operatives were especially nervy, frighteningly real (but fake) broccoli stems. Jacob had crammed himself inside when the buzzing in the air got so bad he could hardly move.
Buzzing isn’t the right word. It was like cold dread, only everything was so hot. Hot, but dry, and it reeked of exhaust fumes, car gas and soot. He’d defended the Treehouse in the old-fashioned way, donning the duct-tape covered armor made of couch seats, a colander for a helmet, and various scraps to cover his knees and elbows. Along with Numbah 04, he’d wielded base-ball shooters to knock the climbing The Senior Citi-Zombies from the trunk.
They were strong. Big. Even though their muscles look atrophied, they could break down doors. And nothing seemed to hurt them. Jacob hadn’t stayed in this Treehouse for months. He’d been avoiding it. But it was the place he first stayed as an Operative, away from the Group Home, when he became Numbah 02 at just seven years old. The idea of letting it be taken, even if defending it seemed pointless, made his heart twist.
And so, they’d done their best. Until it was just him and the freckly Numbah 04 (Lucy). They’d fallen back – when an arm burst though the wooden boards and dragged her out by the hair. She was already turning into one of them by the time he’d run over to her.
He’d retreated to one of the training facilities then, feeling numb. The Suit had sprung up just as she was pulled out of sight, and he’d pulled his helmet down over his face and ran, looking through the rusty holes with an empty kind of horror.
They got into the training facility, deep underground some neighbours away from his old treehouse – gone now, he supposed – and here he was, curled in the robot’s chest like one of those little aliens out of that movie he’s far too young to watch.
It took the zombies a couple of days to find this place, deserted as it was. By that time the suit had been exhausted, so Jacob let it slip away. He needed the energy for if – when – the time came.
He didn’t expect the eldritch abomination himself to duck into the open, warehouse like interior of the training grounds, zombies flanking him at all sides. It was already dark down here, and the edges of him seemed to bleed into the walls around him. His minions were ripping things out of shelves, upturning cupboard and weapon racks with wrinkled hands.
Grandfather watched them all. It was strange, seeing discernible features. Yet Father seemed more human now, with his strict, proportional (almost TOO perfectly proportional) outline. This man’s fingers were long and sharp, his hair stood up on either side like horns, and the cloak at his legs and wrists seem to churn and curl, like…fire, in slow motion. From afar he looked demonic, hardly like a person at all. His nose and mouth would vanish so only the pale yellow eyes stood out.
THAT was the stuff of nightmares, and he held himself that way.
And wherever he went, there was a…buzz. Jacob’s heart hammered.
Grandfather sniffed the air, a sneer pulling at his lip. Even his teeth were outlined in red and black.
“Another dead end,” he grumbled. As if taking the surrounding treehouses, and transforming several neighbourhoods, had been as difficult as opening a cabinet door and finding nothing.
Jacob’s attention zeroed in on him, though. He was looking for something... Specific? He didn’t dare open the hatch even a smidge, lest the noise carry, lest he…smell something. Jacob pulled his legs in closer to his chest, if possible, and tried not to think of how he was roasting alive in here.
Grandfather’s shadowy face, almost carved into a scowl, suddenly…stilled. His stare grew distant, as if considering. He sniffed again. Jacob felt a bead of sweat run down his brow.
The man grinned, an ugly thing that curled up one side of his face, and he slid forward. Jacob was left reeling from relief and panic when he went to the left instead of the right, to where the robot was lying. But he pushed aside a buggy with ease and grasped what was obviously a trap door handle and pulled.
Jacob didn’t need to see what was inside, the cries of alarm started before the hatch was all the way open.
“Well, hello,” while Father could mimic nonchalance and even decorum now and again, Grandfather couldn’t pull it off with his gravelly, sneering voice. Stooping over the hiding-place-turned pit like a great vulture, he reached into the darkness and plucked a red-haired boy into the air. The kid fit snug in his hand, twice as big as it ought to be, and for all his whinging about the noise and fuss children made, the screams didn’t seem to grate on the old man at all.
“Whatever could you all be doing down there?” There must be a lot of them crowded down there. Jacob had gone numb again. Distantly, he figured that was better. If he threw up in her, he’d be in for it.
Another cold wave went through him, despite the heat, as he realized he was already writing them off as doomed. He was prepared to hunker down and wait for him to leave, already his attention was pulling away, and he was blocking out the red-haired boy’s shrieks.
It wasn’t Shawny. But it looked like him.
Jacob’s hand moved on its own, pushing the robot’s chest flap open. None of the zombies reacted. Grandfather hadn’t turned the boy into one of them yet. Seemed he was squeezing a bit of sport out of this. He hefted the kid a little higher. His cries had petered into sobs, fists balled into his eyes, rolling down chubby, red cheeks. He’s what --- eight?
“Suck softness. Maybe I ought to give you something to cry about.” All at once, his gruff sneering had dipped into a teeth-rattling, wheedling mockery, and all at once, Jacob was reminded of a bully parroting his words back at him.
Ha! Maturity. He didn’t have a grasp on it either.
The villain's free hand came in close, fingers moving in a pointing motion, like an eldery relative about to boop the child's nose. But he knew what would happen when the touch landed, as the finger buzzed with that oozing yellow magic.
"Don't you know it's RUDE not to greet your Grandfather properly?"
A running start, a leap, and the heat and fear were banished. The suit enveloped him like cool water on a blistering hot day, soothing his discomfort, taking all his body’s tension away. The air moved around him like liquid, and the momentum of his leap gathered around his limbs in a hum.
For a split second, Graffander’s head had turned just a smidge in his direction. Though no pupils could be seen, Jacob felt his gaze snap on him just before the hit.
All then tension erupted when he struck Grandfather in the side of his head. A howl, more of surprise than pain, erupted from him, and he released his catch.
The red-haired boy went flying. Jacob thrust out a hand, and a pulse of gravity buzzed below him, breaking his fall and letting him flop on the ground. The other kids, dumbfounded, stared up at him with paint-smudged, snotty, baffled faces. Jacob pointed at them, then the elevator.
“Get out of here.”
Thank heck his voice came out with that echo. Made it more authoritative. Less like another child and more like some spirit of justice, come to save your butt.
Jacob had been looking at them. Not at Graffander’s stooped form.
He was tumbling along the ground at full speed before he comprehended the sting in his side. He pushed off, throwing himself back into the air, blue light flickering about him in short bursts.
Grandfather was hunched, fingers curled like claws, the beard, sleeves and edges of his robe rippling faster, like boiling water.
“What is this?” He hissed. For a second, his lips formed a near-comical ‘o’ shape as he shielded his eyes to PEER to him, disbelief marring his features. The kids were clamouring out, scampering away…but the Senior Citi-Zombies didn’t go after them. Why? Was it because they hadn’t been ordered?
…Grandfather straightened up, arms folding slowly and deliberately. Disbelief had bled into cold incredulity.
“There’s no way HE would have – “
Jacob launched himself forward. Grandfather was prepared this time, and his hands lifted to claw him. He swerved around the blistering hands, avoiding the spluttering yellow light that augmented them. When his head got near the swipe, he felt his teeth and eardrums him. Electricity.
The training facility lit up with yellow and blue as he circled Grandfather, trying to land pulses and shockwaves on him. He countered everyone with a burst of lightning, or a disc of spinning light.
Jacob let out a furious noise. Their power sources were too similar, or something! And his dissatisfaction with not landing ANY hit was making his head reel with the pressure.
“WHERE – did you – “each snarl escalated in volume. Jacob was swatted away by another blast. It hurt but didn’t throw him so off that he fell. He was almost too mad to feel it at all.
Some meters away in mid-air, he tried again. Clenched his fists. Let the sounds in the room drag to him. Again, the way Grandfather’s brow lifted, obvious and exaggerated as so to be seen through the suit, would have been funny if he hadn’t flattened the K N D in hours.
He knew he was kidding, but Jacob didn’t care. He had electricity, but Jacob had gravity. He blasted himself forward, aiming his leg to bring his foot DOWN on his skull –
A cold, clammy hand latched onto his upper arm. The break in momentum sent a painful jerk through his arm. Jacob swallowed a yell, kicking and swinging in his grip. Grandfather’s entire arm was alight with the same red-orange dotted light that turned the villains into Citi-Zombies.
Jacob didn’t even think it, but his blue shield had sprung up anyway. It didn’t dislodge the old man’s iron grip, but his own powers didn’t seem to be doing anything to Jacob anyway.
“What?!”
Grandfather held him at arm’s length; none of the kicks were landed. Gone was the victorious smirk. Nothing but contempt, and utter bafflement, oozed from his face.
“You thought you could even leave a scratch me, you little worm?!”
“I wasn’t – aiming – to!” Jacob twisted, pressing his foot against the arm and pushing with all his might. The fingers didn’t so much as budge, “I meant to break your face.”
Grandfather didn’t answer. His free hand came close, inching towards his head, fingers like talons. Jacob angled his head away, until it was painful.
He tucked in his free limbs, against his chest, inhaled. Once more, all sound was sucked towards him, popping both their ears. He saw Grandfather’s eyes flare when he felt it.
Then threw them out again, all at once. The bubble expanded, shattered, and the entire room shook with the sonic blast. Grandfather’s grip slipped just enough for him to tear away, trembling, but with enough energy to remain aloft. He put some distance between them, but hovered some yards away, scowling like a vengeful wasp.
“How…?”
Grandfather pried his hands away from his ears, grinding his teeth. Taking him in with a brief pause. His hands flexed, and Jacob heard the knuckles popping.
An ugly smile flittered across the old monster’s mug. “Almost impressive. But that suit won’t shield you for long. Soon you’ll be one of my minions, and I’ll have all the answers I want from you, brat.”
Neither will yours. Light sparked to life again in Grandfather palms, swooping to spin around his wrists like fireworks. Jacob’s blue shield flickered up around him again.
The zombies were still reeling on the floor. The kids were long gone – but Jacob was no longer paying attention.
He lunged again.
