Question: what's the story behind the picture you made of Ratchet in a dark-looking area looking back at the viewer with some weird evil-looking creature above him?
Ah, yeah, I suppose this does look weird out of context! This drawing is All 4 One fanart, one of the Ratchet & Clank games I...actually don't like playing, but I did enjoy the story. This game centers on a creature called a Loki that can possess life forms. The Lokis are enemies with the Cragmites as well, which is a detail I found interesting.
This fanart is basically a bad ending AU of All 4 One, where the Loki Master chose to possess Ratchet (whom he has captured in the beginning of the game) instead of the larger creatures he favors. This is why Ratchet's visible eye is blue and matches with the creature— the Loki above him is actually inside of him, I just added the visual cue to make that point clear.
The Loki himself says the "smaller ones are easy to control" ... besides the glaring fact that Ratchet is a badass and that Lombaxes being the sworn enemy of the Cragmites is an added flavor of irony, it just seemed like a cool idea to me. It's rather impossible to make Ratchet a villain under normal circumstances since he's so naturally kind-hearted, so I have to get creative if I wanna have fun with it lol.
Remember when this was supposed to be a RaC blog? Yeah me neither
Here’s a concept I thought of ages back of Nefarious but possessed by a Loki/Nether. Went with Loki for the color scheme but I still haven’t decided which cause I’m not sure if Loki can possess machines? Idk I’ll figure it out later, I want to do some more stuff with this in the future
“People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.”
― Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
The Unperfected Wife
It was over in minutes.
Toranux was a reclusive world; the planet equivalent to that scary old house at the end of town. No one knew who or what lived there, no one wanted to know. So it wasn't a Great Loss to anyone when the planet was destroyed.
That is, the no loss to anyone because no one was left to feel it. Some say the strange people in the dark world never saw what hit them- but during the Great War, if a race happened to be destroyed for no apparent reason, everyone's first guess would be the cragmites.
It made your heart and stomach sink to hear that they died for basically nothing. Half the population- one species that hadn't done anything wrong- had been killed simply because they happened to be there.
All of them, dead. Because they where there.
As if the cragmites could be any more evil.
..............
The sun glazed off the reflective surface of the window; bright and hot upon the smooth walls on the outside, yet blocked off from the coolness inside. Rows of desks, a little frayed by productiveness but otherwise sturdy, where all littered with half-built contraptions, all of which displayed a slender of youthful talent.
All except one.
The teacher, a tall and thin lombax with frayed brown fur, was contemplating a small, fluffy little lombax standing before him, head bent, eyes looking upwards in a expression that would give a puppy a run for its money. Around the classroom in the other seats the children twisted around to look, heads turned and giggles barely hidden or suppressed.
The mess on the eight-year old's desk was well, a mess. But not the mechanical clutter that suggested work; just a bunch of confusing things lying apart. Nothing had been built at all. Screws had been stuck into the sides of metal parts, and the best way to describe the child's project was a box covered in screws with metal leaning against it.
The maker stood, curling into himself: Ears flopped against his head; shoulders hunched as if expecting harm or punishment, legs pressed tight together to stop them from shuffling and shifting from nervousness. He held a notebook up to his nose against his chest, so only those pale, icy blue irises could be seen staring wide-eyed up at the teacher; blanking out from dark fur.
The teacher let out a sigh through his nose, trying to be more patient- but the whole day the child hadn't been able to get any further than that clutter as his classmates proceeded as if it was as easy as counting to three.
And it was. Or it should be. He'd heard of late bloomers, but there was just no mechanical prowess in Ickabar Locksher.
"Ickabar, did you listen to the listen yesterday?"
The boy nodded quickly.
"Then how do you not know what to do?" The teacher knew the answer he'd get already. Ickabar's eyes glanced around, trying to look at anything but his snickering classmates.
"...I just don't know where things go, Mr Clark." His soft little voice said. Clark sighed again. He wasn't an unpleasant child; clearly he wasn't doing this just to be cheeky. But he was just so clueless.
Mr Clark's sigh made the child's ears flop another centimetre and he stared at the floor, bony fingers clutching the notebook he held tighter. That's when Clark noticed sprinkles of chalk-like grey of pencil on his fingers.
"Ickabar, what is in the notebook?"
A wave of chortles rippled around the class and Ickabar looked as if he'd like the ground to swallow him up. Mr Clark eyed the other children and held out his hand for it. Ickabar's large eyes peered at him helplessly, and for a moment he wondered what was going on in his mind right now.
Slowly, stiffly, and as reluctant as can be, he handed the frayed black notebook over to the teacher. He turned it around so he could see the page that had been facing Ickabar- and his glasses slipped down his nose.
Not random doodles littered the page, but a drawing- a shaded, pencil drawing, of the bolts, screws, and desk- every detail was almost exact; the shading almost life-like. The tools that had lain forgotten on the table had been drawn almost expertly in sketches. A still-life from the child's perspective; and outlines of the classroom could be seen in the background.
Slowly, he turned the picture away from him so Ickabar could see. The giggles stopped and the other children stared, stiff. Ickabar blinked slowly.
"Ickabar...did you draw this?" Mr Clark could barely speak he was so...alarmed. He couldn't have...
"I did..." He mumbled, eyes down. The teacher ilted his head,
"During class...?"
"...I couldn't build with the tools and bolts, you see, So I um, drew them....instead..." His small voice replied with just a hint of the familiar quirkiness that was Ickabar. The child offered a small beam before it faded, expecting reprimanding to begin any second.
Mr Clark said nothing, turning the picture back to him, looking over it as if unable to believe it. "...I will...take a look at your notebook, Ickabar...please see me after playtime, okay...?"
Their bemusement gone, his classmates resumed their giggling until their teacher silenced them with another look. The bell rang above them and they trotted out. Ickabar, as always, waited until everyone else went out before going himself, quiet, moving with footsteps light and quick he was barely even there.
Mr Clark sat down at his own desk at the front of the room, fiddling with his classes. Such artistic talent, and he'd done it this morning because he couldn't do anything else. It wasn't a masterpiece, but beyond anything the other children could accomplish. He cautiously turned the page in the notebook. What else had he been doing during the many building lessons that failed?
Instead of other drawings, to his shock he found....notes. Musical notes, scribbled in bars. He didn't know much about musical at all. He'd bring it up with another of the teachers. But words had been written above them...a song?
Mr Clark placed the notebook on his desk, sighing deeply. He felt slightly guilty for thinking of the child so badly. He'd thought of him as a clueless dreamer, but perhaps those things going on in his head weren't as useless as he'd thought. The guilt he felt escalated when he looked at the mess on the child's desk. Really, that was the only thing wrong with his school work- but it was a large ' only'. Reading and writing where 'okay' for him- he wasn't the best at spelling. But as a lombax his talent for engineering should have bloomed long ago. But it didn't, and instead he was drawing art and...music.
He glanced at the song for a second, eyes slipping along the squiggling handwriting.
The light is fading, come back home,
Long of waiting, come back home
My heart is empty, but it's still home
Just so long as you come back home
Simple. But...rather sad, in a way. Mr Clark sighed yet again, rubbing his furry forehead with a faint roughness. Of course, Ickabar lived at the care home.
The more he thought about it, the sadder the little song became.
...............
Percival Tachyon tapped his claw-like fingers together in rhythm, beady eyes boring into the screens around him. The screens showed, in his twisted positive opinion, a good result- another planet taken back, civilians surrendering without a fight. The so-called Polaris Defence Force just hadn't be prepared at all. And the fear....the fear was a large factor. A smooth smile slid over his crooked jaw. Indeed, the reputation of the cragmites sent enough fear into people's hearts that most brave men would drop their weapons in surrender at the sight or mention of them.
They knew they wouldn't win, so why try?
A faint tapping noise sounded beside him. Also glaring at the screens was Dr Nefarious- he looked less happy. "Something's not right. It's too easy..." So many failures made him cautious.
"We have the warbots and those little Archaeologists on the way." Percival said, his tone sinister yet smooth, "I believe things are going better than planned."
"We still don't have the artefact..." Nefarious grumbled. The cragmite scowled at him.
"If you are willing to give up..." He drawled meanly, his voice soft and menacing. As he predicted, the Robot literally leaped around in the air to face him full-on.
"LISTEN HERE, Bug-Brain! I've endured more failure than you're 'Leader' Butts have ever had encountered in your miserably old lives! Even if it takes me a thousand years, I WILL have what I want!"
Tachyon eyed him down with a ugly look, "Indeed." His endurance would have been impressive had it amounted to anything. Oh, well. They had their prisoners. It would take just a little persuasion to get them to talk.
The cragmite cracked his knuckles slowly, staring at the screens once again. He had his methods, and it was also an opportunity to ease some of his built-up annoyance. He cackled faintly to himself. Interrogations where entertaining...
Nefarious watched the cragmite with a bemused and half-annoyed expression. "Uh, HELLLOOO?"
Tachyon glanced back at him in annoyance. "What do you want?"
"Stop laughing to yourself, it looks stupid!" The cragmite slammed the foot of his throne down, his gaze slowly contorting into a warning glare- something he never gave often. The robot looked infuriated,
"YOU DARE TO THREATEN ME WITH YOUR CHICKEN-LEGGED-"
"Oh Janice, I wish I never chose the sandwich over you..."
The Emperor stared. Then he chuckled darkly to himself and turned his gaze back to the screens. But this expression was shattered when his eyes spotted something. Something big-eared and five-fingered, running across the rubble of the conquered planet.
It was not the Keeper's brat. It was the armoured one that had torn the Doctor's minions apart like paper. His fingers dug into the joysticks of the controls in front of him and he barely suppressed a growl of fury. He slammed a fist down on his communicator button, and his voice rang out around the announcement speakers of the planet. His voice raised to an ear-paining screech.
"Attention, Troopers! The armoured Lombax has infiltrated our territory! I found this creature found and SLAUGHTERED before Dinner! Those who fail to even fire a shot at this miscreant will find themselves in the arena!"
....................
They'd offered him a wife.
Gothal considered herself a strong woman; the more mediocre members of the Loki race viewed her with awe, fear, and grudging respect. They knew their place, but no matter how low any Loki was they always aspired for more power. It was the way of life to gain strength. Marriage was seen as one of those things- marry a partner that benefits you as well as you prefer them. But, even Gothal noted that the Loki men would be caught glancing at the softer women of the Thora species that had settled nearby.
It was one of the biggest Thora settlements and it wasn't too far from them, ironically. Some of them spoke their language, making it easier for communication should any breaching happen. They stayed on their land, the Loki stayed on theirs. When they wanted.
The Loki women did not show jealously- Gothal had nothing to desire from the weak, brainless women who just happened to have pretty little faces and dainty hands. But other women who she knew would scowl when some of the young men spoke of them.
In more primitive times- very long ago- some men desired wives from that race. Yet when word of it spread, Gothel didn't really think it was that shallow. Something else was behind this proposal.
She personally knew the Thora People where backward, but they wouldn't be dumb enough to do this, would they?
So it was with mild curiosity and amusement that she and two other women decided to stir up that little glade many of the Thora women hung around in. Just find out which 'lucky' women had been offered to her brother.
As soon as they arrived the whole gathering place scattered- the women and girls drew back as if a ten-feet spider had leaped at them. Some of them slid into the walls behind them, fleeing. Gothal couldn't help but smirk at it- they were like cockroaches. Her grin widened and she leaned forward, her height towering over the tallest of them.
"Boo."
And the rest of them scrambled away; swooping from sight away from her and the others. They probably expected some kind of attack. Though her initial plan had been to shake a little info out of them, Gothal couldn't help but cackle lowly at their departure.
Her laughter faded as something caught her eye. Someone sitting at a stone table, leaning over a thick-paged book. Her posture was not that of the graceful girls that had scattered a moment ago; she looked slouched, and the next thing Gothal noted was her arms. Longer than usual and her fingers bony and long; her chin propped up on one palm, sharp elbow rested on the stone surface.
Gothal found herself studying this girl- as the long headfin suggested- and tried to hide her surprise. Thora women's trait was beauty, and there was none of that on her. She was young; perhaps not even out of teen years. She had a petite figure; small and thin, but her expression was pulled into a thoughtful, perhaps disgruntled frown.
It was the most expressive look she'd ever seen on a Thora.
She cleared her throat. No answer came from the girl. Anger sparked in her chest and Gothal slid through the air towards her, the other Loki women staring with incredulous looks.
Her shadow fluttered over the girl; who, up close, could be described as plain. And, there were many curves on her at all. Gothal couldn't help but sneer at the weak-looking creature- however, that expression...just said otherwise. It made her curious. And she hated not knowing things.
She cleared her throat, impatience rising. The Loki female folded her arms, glaring down upon the slight girl. Still no answer.
Gothal smirked and slapped the book together, effectively loosing the girl's page.
Tressakay had a hunch this day wouldn't go well. And it didn't.
She raised her head at last. She'd known of the presence that made the other girls scamper like rats under a cat's gaze, but her mind hadn't registered it as her concern. Now this lady was right in front of her face, eye bearing down on her.
Tressakay focused her face in a narrow-eyed glare, her lip curled downwards by the slightest. She'd practiced this kind of expression on a lot of arrogant blowhards.
The Loki Woman sneered, leering down at her from her taller shoulders. "Paying attention?"
"Floor's yours." Tressakay said in a snide voice, "Go on, I wasn't busy." Sarcasm dripped off her words. She hid her triumph at seeing an indignant spark behind the other woman's gaze.
"Who do you think you are?" She hissed, her face now only inches from hers. Tresskay's pale green eye narrowed to a slit. I know what you're trying to do, she thought in her head, hoping it leaked onto her expression, I know that you're trying to make me scared, make me sorry. But you won't.
"Anything I can help you with?" She asked in a scathing voice, allowing her own little tight smirk, "I thought you had all the information already, being a Loki and all."
The lady wasn't stupid; she knew an insult when she saw one. Good. Tressakay didn't want to compliment that lot. Tressakay watched her straighten up, raising one side of her brow.
The Loki women glared back, before a more business-like tone floated in, "I heard about how your primitive-thinking council members offered my brother a wife in exchange for, rumour has it, less pressure from him."
Gothal spotted how the girl's eye widened by the slightest; expression tightening. "Brother?" She frowned slightly, shrugging, "How's he important?"
Gothal leaned down again, speaking slowly. "He's the one in charge, as surprising as it sounds. But that isn't what you should be contemplating, you lower life-form."
The girl scowled violently- Gothal had to do her best to hide the fact she was taken back. Such threat, violence- she was slightly impressed, but this didn't fit a Thora. She hated this confidence as much as it amused her.
"Hmm...lower..." The girl straightened up, her own little height a mockery to Gothal's, but she didn't look insecure in the slightest. Gothal's subtle attempts to intimidate her kept failing. But she wasn't willing to give up.
"I'm looking for this girl who had been...benefited enough to be chosen. Perhaps you've heard of her." The girl's head turned away, but her thinned eyes watched her sharply.
"Yeah. She's my age." Gothal's brow rose slowly.
"And how old are you?"
"How old is your brother?" The girl retorted snappily with a slight glare. "She's not underage or anything like that, so don't worry. Not even teenagers anymore, despite my stature - Twenty. Even those two idiots in the Council aren't that depraved."
"Hmm." Gothal felt a little bit of relief. Not that she cared, but her stomach could do without that being associated with her brother as much as she disliked him.
"So." The girl's voice brought her back to look at her, "You're brother's the famed Loki Master."
Gothal grinned faintly, "Is that what you call him?"
"He considers it his title, apparently." The pale eye never ceased to be narrow. Gothal frowned back.
There was a pause.
Gothal spotted the girl eyeing the glade around them. From behind trees, large pipes and other things that stood on the surface above the tunnels, the other Thora girls where watching with a mixture of curiosity and fear. Tressakay scowled at them- and they hid. Gothal stared at her.
"Who are you?"
The girl turned, hands on her hips, her shoulders hunched in a not-so graceful way. Crooked was the best way to describe her posture and expression, as well as beyond hateful.
She grinned faintly, "Is the most powerful Loki enquiring about my name, my rank or importance?"
The Loki Woman scowled, "Watch it." She peered down at her. The girl floated up a little in the air to eye-level. Gothal's frown deepened and she rose higher. The girl didn't it again.
This went on for a few seconds before the girl gave a tilt of her head in annoyance, "Okay, we can do this all day until we reach the sky and combust in the stratosphere, or you can stop trying to intimidate me." She feigned a smile, almost quirky, "All right?"
Gothal rose one side of her brow scrutinising. The girl gave an exasperated sigh, scooping up the thick book that lay nearby. Gothal squinted to see the letters. She knew some of the Thora language for purpose of ease. She caught the words 'Science Notes' before the title disappeared as the girl held in under her arm.
A science apprentice- judging by her age. There were only few of them; the Thora Council didn't approve of poking around at nature and tings that nature didn't intend to create- usually science of Thora was restricted usually to medical things and anything that kept away from weapons or that made things too easy.
They were afraid of it in Gothal's opinion. So seeing an actual Scientist in training. "So...science. Perhaps I've met a Thora with a brain."
"...Whoopdedoo..." The girl muttered back.
"With that word, perhaps not?"
"What do you want?" She finally snapped. Gothal resisted the urge to snicker,
"I said. I wanted to find out about the woman that had been offered to my brother."
"Why?"
"...Call it curiosity..." Gothal grinned nastily. The girl gave a dark grin back. Such expression, Gothal found herself thinking again.
"Really..."
Then, a voice, accented at the vowels and sharp- oblivious to the presence of the threatening Loki woman, called out from somewhere nearby the glade.
"Tressakay! Dons ka- Mio?" Gothal's features had gone rigid, slowly turning as raw realization dawned on her with a morning shower of disbelief.
No...
"You...?" Her voice gave an unnatural waver as the girl turned back to glare up at her, hands on her hips, before she slid backwards through the air. She straightened, arms swinging lazily as she tossed her thick book right into the wall- it slid through, dissolving into the rock of the glade like liquid. She turned to face Gothal and flashed a cheeky grin, her brow twisted in a scowl, creating a sinisterly intelligent grin.
She raised her arms, spreading them out theatrically in a mocking manner at the Loki Woman's rare alarm, and she slipped into the wall, her form vanishing through with a triumphant chuckle as low as the rumble of thunder before the lightning flash.
Leaving the Loki woman with far too many questions about what the proposal was really about.
"The rivalry is with ourself. I try to be better than is possible. I fight against myself, not against the other."
-Luciano Pavarotti
The Ego of a Loki
It was rather cliché. An old tree standing idle and alone; detached from the rest of the horizon. Its metal brothers stretched higher and shined more than its bark; standing upon a small hill surrounded by a meadow. Peaceful, almost like a story-book scene.
The wind made the long, golden grass ripple out in soft, slow waves. If you listen closely, some say you can hear it whisper the names of those who died around it; around that meadow that stood in the outskirts of Fastoon's proud city. The small houses around it where battered and forgotten; the rust and moss clawed slowly up the once pure surfaces.
With all that around it, it wasn't so beautiful.
Not anymore.
The tree, when you looked closer, was now dead. The branches, instead of hanging lazily and swinging calmly in the wind, lay crooked and limp. They creaked as the heartless breeze pushed past them without consideration for what they used to be.
Through the lonely, cracked streets of the fringe of the city, the man walked. The clinking sound of his foots echoed in a soft, repetitive 'sshh' as he strode in slow, steady steps.
A hand, bony and frayed, slid along the wall as they went; the smooth metal cold and stiff.
The fire around him burned the metal that he tried to lean on, his hand had to pull away-
He turned his armoured head.
Ickabar turned his head upwards, his breath shaky. He could just see something through the smoke-
The armoured figure turned away from that path, and changed direction.
..............................
Beep, beepity, beep, beepity, beep-
THUD.
"Stop your chirping, you blasted machine!"
"Perhaps you should try seeing what the problem it."
"Silence, Steward..."
The Loki waved a dismissive hand and turned to the screen in annoyance. He ought to replace tha infernal Steward- the subtle back-talking was getting too much for his temper to deal with at the moment. He forced his eyes to the screen, though he really couldn't be-
Hang on, what's this?
"Hmmm..." He rose a brow, eyes lidded. Apparently, something- the scanners didn't know what- had been picked up on the radar of the defence system. It had only been detected for a split second- and small slip in a cloaking device, perhaps?
He grinned, bearing hidden sharp teeth and cocked his head to the side casually. "I believe our guests have arrived. Steward, let's make them at home..."
"Yes Master. Calling in reinforcements..."
.....................
"They'll know."
Ratchet's nose wrinkled in a protesting manner upon hearing this deadpan remark. He glanced at Trisby, gripping the steering joysticks tighter. "It was just a glitch- they won't notice..." But, he knew, it probably would be. He hated when things that were already complicated only got more so.
The cat-like creature let out a slow breath, frowning through the windscreen at the sight before her. Ahead and above, not too far, was Ephemeris, locked onto IRIS in a deadly embrace of claw-like hands.
And, with all the little ships scattered around the two giant balls in space like bees around a beehive-just waiting for a target- a slip in the security system just wasn't welcomed.
"Oh great." She mumbled to herself- then looked towards the controls. With a sniff of indifference, she frowned and slipped down to the wires beneath, opening the flat and taking hold of them. Ratchet's eyes widened.
"Hey, that's REALLY dangerous, don't tamper with the..." The lights in the ship darkened suddenly. Oh no, they were out of power-
Something sent a vibration through the ship. Clank's tale optics widened in alarm. "Did we just shoot something."
"Tracking beacers. Tampered with 'um when was bored."
"Is that not a little too obvious? Boastful or not, the Loki is not that foolish." Clank folded his arms. Trisny snorted, glancing at the sceptical tin man over her shoulder.
"Pfft. I said 'tampered.' They'll think that's our ship, giving another glitch in the security. Though its only gonna work for a few minutes, so put your seat belt on."
"Wait, what are you-" Ratchet, incredibly, found himself being shoved away, and sliding off the pilot chair by a creature smaller than Clank. Trisby, with a smirk plastered on her mug, grabbed the steering controls and narrowed her eyes.
Ratchet's pupils dilated. "Uh-oh."
Zoom.
They ship blasted forward- right towards the ships. Ratchet let out a long, horrified yell that Clank joined in with as they slid past the ships, turning and whipping in different directions. Trisby tilted the ship left and right, and Ratchet grabbed onto the seat and held on for dear life as she gave the wheel a jerk and flipped them around; turning them upside down as they rolled through the minion ships.
Trisby's grin broadened as they sped up, and she pressed a button on the joystick with her thumb. A bunch of missiles flew out behind them as they reeled in and out between more ships, heading closer and closer to Ephemeris.
"ARE YOU CRAZY?"
"Meh. Slightly."
Ratchet and Clank stared at each other in silent alarm. Trisby shrugged to herself, then slowly her smirk slid back onto her expression.
Ratchet was what she was eying- the very small opening that the minion ships where sliding through. He rose a brow. Maybe...it was insane, but maybe...
"Hang onto your insides."
Trisby sped the ship forward towards the closing gab- the smaller minions ships fled sideways from the crazed vessel and she turned it right- angling it like a key so it could go through.
Ratchet gripped the chair, his knuckles turning white beneath his fur- and they swept through, as lucky as a penny falling from the sky and landing in your pocket. That lucky.
The space left open for the minions slid shut behind them seconds after the ship flew in. Trisby scowled as many defence bots leaped into sight from upon the docking bay.
"I hope you're as good with weapons as they say..." The woman remarked, then brought out a small grenade- Ratchet didn't know how she got it as she had no belt or pockets- just as the ship door was broken down.
Shoot.
Ratchet leaped up and seized his wrench, sprinting forward and hitting the minion closest to him. Trisby growled sharply behind him and chucked the grenade- his ears stood up in surprise as it hit the next minion in the race, sending them reeling back.
They exploded in a firey inferno. Trisby wandered past, scowling now, a dark contrast to her earlier indifference.
"C'mon." She deadpanned, dragging Clank by the shoulder along with her. The lombax followed in silence.
..........................
The Loki slammed his fist down on the poor control panel, barely missing one of the very press-able buttons. He ignored the fact he could have very well blown himself up as he scowled at the screen.
"Steward!"
"The reinforcements were not very alert, Master. Perhaps new employment."
"Oh, shut up will you?!"
He wasn't really taking in too much of what he was seeing on the holo-screen slightly above him. Standing on his throne, he ran a hand down his face in frustration, grumbling. This was not called for. How one little space in the security managed to be spotted by a whelp and a tin can he'd never know...
His eyes- or the ones he was currently using- caught something on the screen that wasn't usually there when the lombax and robot where. He scowled, removing his hand from his face in annoyance and zooming in.
What on earth was...
"Is that some sort of Magnus creature?" He asked incredulously. The Steward, whether it was rhetorical or not, decided to answer.
"No creature scans match. Unidentified DNA lifeform."
The Loki rolled his eyes. "What a valuable asset you are, Steward..." He glared at the screen with an air of indifference- but he was boiling with rage. They thought this creature- smaller than even this ridiculous body he'd possessed- was going to take him down?
The parasitic creature snarled to himself and slammed his fist on the side of the throne. He ignored the Steward's 'advice' to count down from ten as he directed his gaze back up ti the infernal screen.
Oddly enough, he remarked in his mind, the creature actually resembled the pet Dr Croid had raised. Lack of a tale and large head, and other minor differences. Strange convenience...perhaps she knew the two Tharpods?
And if the Steward was merely being incompetent- as it seems she had been with her last task, was this a Magnus creature that had been experimented on?
The creature in question was leading the way it seemed- and it looked rather comical. Then, the creature- suddenly kicked a minion that had fallen on the ground, sneering. Oh joy.
He just realized he was about to battle with a temperamental woman.
..............
"The minions have become less frequent." Clank remarked quietly as they wandered through a more darkened hall of IRIS, "I fear we are walking right into an attack."
"Obviously. The parasite knows we're here." Trisby replied, not looking at him as she walked a little ahead. Clank tilted his head as Ratchet rose a brow behind him.
"Trisby-" Clank said, with a note of hesitation, "Arrogant as you've probably heard, he is dangerous. I took four of us to take him down..."
Trisby smirked a little, looking at him over her slim, smallish shoulder. "Don't worry. He's not the first arrogant prat I've had to deal with."
She chuckled, though it didn't sound really like amusement. Clank hoped the small creature was taking this seriously.
Trisby was frowning as she walked, though. She hadn't meant to sound arrogant herself; acting like she didn't care- but it was true that she held no fear. But she wasn't foolish. She WAS on her guard. Loki, even with their exaggeration (and honestly, there was too much from that lot) they WHERE smart creatures.
Ratchet's nose wrinkled. "He made Nevo design most of that stuff. If their such a 'advanced' race...how come he'd do that?"
Trisby chuckled, "Isn't it obvious?"
Ratchet and clank blinked at her as they continued walking. "Huh? What's obvious?"
Trisby looked back over his shoulder at them again, grinning to herself. "Because he's a lazy little arse, that's why."
"Ah." Ratchet said- and he couldn't help but snicker at the word choice. Trisby, he thought, was a temperamental, and firm creature. But it seemed she did have a sense of humour. It helped the mood of the whole 'Tachyon returning' seem a little less...worrying.
"Heads up."
Alas, Ratchet and his robotic companion hadn't raised their heads fast enough to see the flying minions dart at them from the next door- or Trisby irritably toss another one of her green-electric grenades at them.
They blasted into pieces. Ratchet smacked the last one on the head as it sped towards them, ending it. He glanced at Trisby. He and Clank had done most of the shooting up till now...he wondered, what would happen is she marched through on her own?
He grinned a little, unconsciously, as he imaged in the miniature woman strolling casually through the base, tossing grenades out as she passed like seeds to chickens.
Only they blew up, of course.
The door slid open- much to their surprise. Trisby's expression hardened, and her eyes widened slightly. She glanced around, in case of any leaping minions- but none came. Ratchet looked over his shoulder down the darkened hall. Nothing.
"Well, it's the cliché 'finish off myself' battle." Trisby commented with a shrug- though she was frowning now, no longer indifferent.
There was an enourmous chamber- rounded like the main questioning rom- through the door. Darkened like the rest of the purple-like place, it was probably once used to give some room for visitors to pass in and out of the many corridors. Now it was vacant.
As soon as they stepped in, the door slid shut with an audible 'clunk' behind them, and the lights brightened a little.
No matter how many times things like this happened to the duo, for some reason they always felt a little startled.
"My, my." The cultured drawl above them said, "You've brought along a fan."
Trisby was surprised, a little, to be hearing an accent like that after so many years. She hadn't encounter a Loki for many, anyway.
And this one held an air of certainty; confidence- perhaps too much. It was one of those voices laced with a pleasant 'upper class' coating, but held something sinister underneath. She looked up and scowled.
The Loki was lounging in his throne, leaning against the side with the same careless demeanour as they first time they'd seen him- Ratchet couldn't shake the feeling of déjà-vu. Being in a group before, little words had been exchanged with this particular villain.
Maybe since he did most of the talking...
Trisby stared for a few seconds- genuinely taken back. It was hard to think that this cat-like being with more fluff on his body than she and Ratchet combined, could be possessed by a giant, frightening parasite. "You have to be kidding me..."
That earned her a sharp look.
The Loki where an endurance race, she'd give them that- though anyone would rather be turned into a funny little creature than die via exposure to poisonous atmospheres. She wouldn't say where she learned of Toranux or the Loki, but she did know that outside of a host, they were as good as dead.
She'd heard how he'd been dragged from it. Idly, she wondered how he was still alive. The creature he possessed looked familiar- some would have said 'cute' if it hadn't been the expression. What someone looks like is based on their mind as well, what they show on their faces- and all she could see was a dark, slightly unsettled danger behind the green irises. A beast watching furious from its cage, forcing patience upon itself.
At first glance, the mixture of the innocent face and dark expression, and narrowed eyes...some would find it unnerving. Or very weird at least.
Trisby then glared quietly up at him, head lowered and eyes blazing. 'Fan' was not a good word to use on this female.
Another burst of anger shot through her when the Loki decided to grace her with a passive look; as if he was looking at no more than a insignificant mouse in the corner. Or ladybug.
The Loki rose a brow at her, then chuckled inwardly, looking down at his claws while he fiddled with them in an absent manner. "Hm. You lot must be desperate."
Trisby sneered a little. "Says the leech stuck in a pet's body..." She drew the words with a slight amusement. The Loki's gaze snapped back to her. His inward fury showed on his face in a hard stare and he looked ready to lash back out- but instead he forced a small, tapping his fingers together.
"Charming." The smile faded, and he glanced down at Ratchet and Clank. "So it's seems the meddlesome party is down by two members." A deadly sort of grin appeared then.
"How delightful."
The smooth clangs of moving mechanics filled the trio's ears below, and the lights grew bright and ready. The hoverthrone raised up further and the Loki stared down upon them from above, hands behind his back.
"Well, I'm not in the mood for a long confrontation..."
"You sure like talkin' though." Ratchet remarked with a grin.
"Silence, you."
"What does a parasite need with IRIS?" Trisby questioned, though she already knew- villains had a thing about letting on more about their plan when people asked. However, he said nothing, merely frowned back at her. She tried again.
"Doesn't the 'advance' Loki race KNOW more than IRIS?" Trisby tilted her head, speaking softly- but a deadly tone was underneath. The Loki's eyes narrowed.
Just what would SHE know about our race? Toranux had been lost long before her time. He shrugged it off; it made no difference. Though a spark of pride filled his chest knowing that they were still knw-somewhat.
But, knowing or not, he had no time for a meddling interloper, as that Spogg would have said...
"Until now I believed the owners of what I need where fools- and they still remain so. Wasted potential of something so powerful...I would have studied it further, but I had...mm, other business." He gave an inward laugh. Then, he straightened up and pressed one of the buttons on his throne.
"I DO hope you enjoy your visit." He crooned slowly, just as the minions- bigger ones; creatures of sharp teeth and advanced weaponries armour, marched towards them. Then, the double canons flipped out from either side of his throne.
The minions, by command, closed in slowly. Ratchet stood with his wrench at the ready. Trisby growled lowly and turned back at him- earning his gaze once more.
"Confident aren't you?" She called, arms out a little in a casual manner- then he scowled, though her mouth twisted into a nasty kind of smile that looked more like a sneer. "I've seen less overdone attempts in video games."
She tapped her chin, glaring up at him as the minions continued moving towards them, "So the mighty Loki wins, hmm?"
The Loki snarled a little, "Do not try to talk down to me." He replied, trying to keep his posture- but Trisby could see anger. Her smirk broadened like a cat who'd spotted a mouse.
"Mmmm....Nope." She turned on her heel, and pulled out a small metal device- which promptly reconfigured- like unfolding paper- into a blaster.
She shot the nearest minion- and the others pounced. Trisby darted back with the quickness of a cheetah, shooting as Ratchet charged forward, hitting them with all he had. The Loki chuckled from above.
"You seem a little taken back." He called down to the female creature, who rolled her eyes with her back to him. "After you and those 'heroes' are gone, I'll be able to resume by business."
Trisby hopped out of the way of a charging minion and rose a brow up at him, craning her neck so she could catch sight of him. He must have liked her having to look up at him like this...the thought made her blood boil.
"The galactic devastation of all living things? Do the Loki only live to muck up other people's lives..." She called, unimpressed as she turned to face him. "Seems like a lil' bit on a superiority delusion..."
That had done it. Ratchet saw it, Clank saw it. There are moments in two people's lives when they meet and almost instantly, they hate each other. It doesn't even take much- but now, it was personal. They shared a long, narrowed gaze, Trisby slightly smirking, The Loki's teeth bore back in a snarl.
Who DID this little...creature think she was?
Simply looking at that subtle smirk upon the female's face made him furious- and affronted. She knew nothing of his race and goal, yet she flounced in her, feeling she could say what she wanted...?
Well. He slammed his fist down on one of the buttons, loading his cannons. The poor, ignorant creature would soon learn her lesson.
He forced a grin down at her, "It seems your fond of confidence, too." He noted, as she began backing up a little, her brow creased in a frown as she gripped her small, weak weapon. He leaned back against the side of his throne, eyebrows raised. "Bu you see, my dear, I make sure that I get what I want in the end...and no primitive little cat is going to stop me."
She gave a sound that sounded almost like a snide giggle, amused by him. He scowled.
"I'd love to see that."
BLAST.
Trisby gave a short yelp and dived out of the way- having expected a retort before fire. Ratchet's eyes widened- he was further away, fighting minions.
"Are you okay?" The Loki's laugh overtook his words.
"How fun! You weren't so smart at that move, where you?" Trisby landed back on her feet and rolled her eyes.
"Oh please. A toddler could've dodged that."
Oh, he hated this creature. The Loki growled lowly to himself and fired again- and every time the pest managed to dodge, muttering insults as she went about his aim.
"I'm getting boo-ored!"
Rage overtook his senses and he gave a loud exclamation. He turned and twisted a key beside him on the throne- and it sent a signal to the overtaken IRIS, and the floor trembled. Trisby stared down at her feet- and the disc-like floor split. Not like in movies, but like one 'ring' at a time. Two 'rings' of the floor fell downwards into darkness- and Ratchet and Clank with it.
Ratchet gave a yelp as he hit the ground of a lower floor- like a basement. The only way out was back up onto the floor above.
Trisby slowly turned back to the Loki, frowning thoughtfully. It seemed he'd sent the fight down below, trapped the two heroes to deal with...after her. He was really raving mad.
She chuckled to herself, dodging another hit. And that's what she wanted. The angrier he was..the more stupid mistakes he'd make. It was actual becoming easier to-
"AH!"
A burn singed her shoulder as one of the blast narrowly missed her. The Loki snickered nearby and she dived away, rolling behind a fallen minion for cover. She re-loaded her blaster just as that cover was incinerated.
Then she was moving sideways again, shooting at him- and annoying, he put up a shield, flashing a smile before turning but to the controls. Brilliant...
The fight continued, and despite her luck in dodging, Trisby couldn't keep this up for long. He wanted her dead, and painfully by the looks of it...
It could sense the danger.
It slid through the hallways, leaving a cold trail behind it as it went outside. The armoured one had saved the lombax and his robotic friend...but there was more threat than that.
From the outside, it watched the two spheres in space. Latched onto in a metal embrace, the Magnus-born machine wasn't built by Loki hand.
Not entirely.
So, it went back. Far, to a place in the galaxy more remote. Where the gravity felt disturbed and teh climates mixed and abundant.
In the inky sky of Magnus, nothing suggested its presence as it slipped into the large laboratory, down the hall, into the workspace.
Two tharpod stood, unaware, as the coldness filled the air.
"Moew?"
The tiny muse peered around, large green eyes wide and innocent as the cold brushed his fur. Dinkles looked around, feeling the strange presences that his instinct told him was there.
Nevo didn't seem to notice; he was working hard on something. Then, the computer buzzed. Dinkles tilted his head curiously trotted over and pressed a random button.
The news flashed on, and Nevo turned around. Frumpus blinked.
"Oh...Dinkles, why did you-"
"The IRIS supercomputer appears to have a twin! A giant, moon-like drone hovering nearby..."
Nevo dropped his tool. Then, the two tharpods turned and faced each other, eyes wide. Frumpus looked incredulous.
"If a man can bridge the gap between life and death, if he can live on after he's dead, then maybe he was a great man."
-James Dean
Its A Scheduled Annihilation
On the planet Fastoon the city lay bare and empty. No trace of life or any noise that suggested it sounded through the desolate place; not a breath of air from any creature, not a whisper from any mouth. It was dusty and still; not a footprint, not a clatter. An eternal hush; the encore of the aftermath of destruction. The wind blew past the vacant buildings to the outskirts- and along the paths something moved. Thinner than air, yet more detached than light. A shimmer of blue fell over the streets as the metal road became dirt; following it to a field that gleamed of faint, faded gold. Within the field was a hill.
Atop the sloping hill stood a dead tree with hanging, limp branches that reached down towards the rippling grass below. The sun glistened against the gold strands, and for once, here, the world seemed at peace. But around it, everything was dead.
Was it a dream? He didn't know. Above, the sky seemed so black that it didn't seem like the sky at all. No light reached down to him as he found himself in that little field upon the hill, swaying gently in the breeze that stroked the dying land.
He raised his head, and he remembered.
"Everything is connected. From a simple grain of sand, to the greatest star that shines upon a million of its kind. And everything is challenged, won or lost, but it moves on. Death does not mean the end of existence; and despite our yearning to know why things are they way that they must be, it is something that we will never truly understand as the living, and the mortal.
As a creature of considerable years, I have witness but one challenge that seemed to strip any form of hope from the surface of the universe; upon the sandy dunes of my home world. Yet little did I know that this challenge that I faced was connected to another, that happened before our time, and another before that, until everything seemed to fit into place, a slow repetition over time itself. But nothing, as fitting as it could be, was ever kind. And over time, the hero who came to rise above the challenge of our age would earn that he could not save everyone; and winning is a mixture of many things. Luck, aid...and connections.
The horrible tragedy that took place so many years ago bloomed a new hero; one that brought justice to it...as much as he could. I hope one day, however, he would understand that...some good men, like him, do not win.
But I had no doubt he and his friend will prevail. For this time, the universe itself knows that it must bend its own rules, as its bindings begin to unravel due to mortal tampering...we have grown too powerful for our own good, and reality's fabric has been slowly worn away. It is time to repair, restart, and replenish. It is time to put things back into order."
The sea of stars hovered tranquilly in the vastness of space. Blue-purple solar clouds drifted past the rotating moons and planets. Anyone watching the sight would think it innocent and peaceful; even more so than a calm meadow on a planet's surface. The silence coated the enormity and complexity that concocted within it; but for now, it was quiet. Yet, in the darker places of this area of space, a tall, metallic figure stood in wait.
Dr Nefarious could feel the power surge through his circuits; a robotic equivalent of adrenaline. He was excited; eager. Yet he had forced himself to be patient; his hands sent behind his back. Patience was a difficult virtue to master and he wouldn't call himself an expert. Only the absolute promise of reward, and the delight while working to obtain it, granted him the will to keep still. He overlooked the peaceful area of space with mock admiration. Nefarious had spent the last year carefully, as he always did when presumed to have perished or finally fled. Authorities had obviously tried to locate him, but never came close to catching a taste or even the slimmest gleam of his presence. They simply waited for him to come back.
"Ah, the Universe. So quiet and peaceful- it makes me sick-" He raised a brow to himself as he spoke out loud, an odd habit that Lawrence, his butler, had yet to get him to stop, "Won't it be nice when its filled with death and destruction of those squishie vermin?...especially..."
He growled lowly and spun around, going from his snide, evil plotting happiness to anger in a quick flash. A certain green buffoon was responsible for that.
On the other side of the darkened office room, Lawrence paused from his weapon-dusting.
"Musing the terrors of the Universe, sir?"
"More like the annoyances." Nefarious spat back at the butler, once again turning on his heel and striding back to the window. The window in question overlooked the platforms of the space shuttle. Ships and robotic minions scurried around, preparing. "Though not for long, Lawrence."
His expression grew darker; red eyes narrowed and the smirk somehow obvious on his robotic face. He spoke in a low, raucous voice. "Think of it, Lawrence...the power to defeat all of our enemies, for the taking, just left by that feeble race we found out about."
"Such a waste, sir." Lawrence remarked coolly, continuing his dusting in an indifferent manner. Nefarious took no note of this and went on:
"And when we have it, that idiot green imbecile will never hinder my plans again." He tangled his fingers together, rubbing his palms together, "And then my nemeses will pay for the humiliationthey caused me!"
There was a pause. Nefarious looked over his shoulder and scowled at Lawrence, as if expecting something. Lawrence cocked his head to the side. "Sir?"
Could this butler of his be any more incompetent? Nefarious's scowl deepened considerably. "Go and call up the parasite."
The robot raised his head, speaking in a more positive tone with his mind on the prize, "I'm going ahead with Operation Alpha 1...In other words..."
His already grating voice lowered to a growl, yet remarkably took on an almost theatrical mode: "Disrupt all possible peace and tranquility everywhere- especially that of our heroic pests!"
"My, My, disrupting peace is very new for you sir..." The barely existent hint of sarcasm in Lawrence's voice didn't reach Nefarious.
The robot felt restless and ready to go; as he did any time he started one of his ingenious plans. The look on Qwark's face when he showed up with his newly supplied minions and weapons was to die for. Or him to die for...that sounded perfect.
Nefarious threw back his head and shrieked an evil laugh, one that echoed throughout the base and beyond. The minions out on the landing docks and smaller ships ducked their heads.
Lawrence removed his hands from his robotic ears and almost sighed. "I'll get to that message, sir."
"Good. Victory..." Nefarious slapped his hands together in a typical villain manner with an audible clap, "Is nigh."
...
"Alright, Cadets!"
The Starship Phoenix drifted steadily through space on its daily patrol. The area around them was all but still; tranquil, even, not an asteroid or ship blocking their way, not a gleam of trouble hovering in the quiet system. In the gleaming light of the idle, passing stars and planets, the sleek ship was indeed magnificent in the eyes of the Solana Galaxy that it served.
It would be nice to say that the self proclaimed 'Captain' of the ship was, too.
Inside the cockpit, around the beeping and glittering control panels, three figures with mismatched sizes, postures and coloring stood gathered. Two watched the third standing on a chair, large hands on his hips and his overly white teeth flashing at them like paparazzi cameras, the annoying side-effect of such invasive people included.
Captain Qwark, so-called superhero and celebrity of Solana and (unfortunate) beyond, stood above Ratchet and Clank (The lesser celebrities but obviously more genuine heroes) , his suit green as the envy he thought other superheroes had for him. His grin widened and his booming voice once again rang through the air.
"This is where the patrol gets interesting! We-"
"-Are just passing Metropolis, Captain." Clank's informative voice pointed out, his head tilting. "Nothing to be overly excited about."
The lombax beside him shook his head. He'd been back in Solana for months now, and already Qwark being with them on the job was starting to wear his patience thin. Though It was nice to return to his foster Galaxy, especially after spending over two years in Polaris.
He'd remembered to stay in touch with Al, Sasha and the others- but he'd missed the familiar planets of Veldin and Kerwan. It made him feel more at ease here, though he wasn't so sure why. He supposed the saying 'it's good to be home' had it grounds. Clank had no problem with returning, either; the Galaxy had been quite happy to see 'Secret Agent Clank' return.
However, Ratchet shuddered as he remembered the stacks of fan-mail left at their old apartment in Metropolis.
But, he thought idly to himself, it would have been a lot better without Qwark bothering them 24/7.
The lombax glanced at Clank as Qwark started going on about how important it was for heroes to patrol. "Do ya think he's gonna keep this up, Clank? I was gonna work on some stuff later, and I'd rather not have a headache..."
Clank laughed quietly, "I believe that may be difficult, Ratchet."
The amber-furred lombax resisted a groan and turned away. Great...so much for a peaceful afternoon.
But honestly, he wondered if he could call Tawlyn and try and convince her again to take him into the Polaris Defense system...but she had even less tolerance than he did.
"Say, Ratchet!" Qwark called, "Where's that gizmo thing you use to hit bad guys?"
Ratchet replied awkwardly, raising a brow. "...Why...?"
Qwark shrugged it off, "Oh, just wondering if I could try and fix my toaster with it..."
Ratchet sighed, "Qwark, sometimes I'm worried about how your train of thought works, really..." He grimaced and went back to the steering controls. On autopilot for now- nothing particularly dangerous had happened in almost a year.
So it was boring, standing around here when he'd much rather be fiddling with mechanics. He was sure Clank wasn't going to be able to take much more of Qwark-ness either.
"Ratchet, are you alright?" He found Clank standing beside him and smiled tiredly.
"Yeah, pal. Just a lil' tired, that's all."
"We're almost finished the patrol, today." Clank had a brighter note in his voice, "It won't be too long. Try to be a little patient..."
He gave a deadpan look when he spotted Qwark sticking a fork into a toaster, trying to rid it of some broken metal. Ratchet watched his expression with a slight smile. Guess Mr Patient was being pushed to his limits, too.
Clank wandered towards him to get him to stop. Ratchet wasn't bothered; Qwark had done more stupidly dangerous things and lived...
Crack!
Abruptly, the ship jerked and shook the floor. The lights flickered above.
Ratchet raised his head as the ship's lights went dark, with Qwark's cowardly yelp following suit. Clank's luminous teal eyes looked towards him. Luckily for the windows looking out to the stars there was still a little light left, and on the controls. It didn't make Ratchet feel any better. at all; His brow creased as he looked around him, "Stay close guys...I think something's up." Understatement, yes, but all he could up with.
"It could just be a light failure..." Clank didn't sound so sure. Qwark trembled where he stood, nibbling his large gloved fingers. Ratchet tried not to roll his eyes.
"Qwark, calm it." He moved over to the controls, careful not to trip on Clank. He began fiddling with the back-up system. If Clank was right, the lights should have returned by now. Ratchet frowned, "C'mon..."
I really don't need this today...
Suddenly the transition screen snapped on, despite the other screens no longer functioning. Ratchet lifted his head up and saw a round, red orb staring down at the three of them like a menacing spotlight, and at the sight of it Qwark promptly screeched like a girl and ducked behind him. Honestly, sometimes-
Hang on-
The red orb drew back from the screen, laughing in a grating voice- as it wasn't an orb at all, but a red eye belonging to...oh no.
Ratchet gritted his teeth at the annoying laugh, "Nefarious, what are you doing here?"
The robot cackled mockingly back at the lombax, "Scared you three twits, didn't I?"
Clank glanced over his shoulder at Ratchet, and he saw a frown on the robot's features, "I don't believe he simply came to scare us, Ratchet." He turned his head and put on an authoritative voice, stepping forward.
"On behalf of Galactic Authorities, to whom you are wanted under the-"
"Blah, blah blah!" Nefarious barked, leering at the screen, "Enough of your 'Mister Cop' act! I'm trying to gloat here."
Ratchet smirked at him a little, "Gloat for what, scaring Qwark and turning the lights out? Isn't really impressive, Nefarious. So what is it this time?"
He added in a bored note to his voice and almost laughed a little when he saw fury flicker on the robot's face- but then Nefarious placed his hands together, tapping his fingers. "Oh, all in good time my three nemeses. But now..." He paused for dramatic effect. Ratchet scowled in annoyance at the move, having lived this moment far too many times to even begin taking it seriously.
"Prepare to be ANNIHILATED!" The screeching laugh of the robot was like nails on a chalkboard, and Ratchet cringed as a loud boom rattled the ship. He spun around, and through the window of the ship he could see hundreds of little vessels spiraling towards them.
The ship swayed as they knocked against it; the floor tipping to the side. Ratchet grabbed Clank's antenna and caught onto the control panel. Qwark was not so lucky and slid right into the wall opposite with a slam.
The ship continued to tip until it was completely vertical, leaving Ratchet and Clank dangling dangerously in the air. Swinging, the lombax tried to regain control of himself, but his hands ached with pain as he held tight to the control panel with all the strength he could muster. Ratchet gritted his teeth- darn it, his fingers where slipping!
He lost his grip and fell down towards the darkness as the ship was being attacked from the outside.
The lombax and his companion hit the solid wall below with a heavy thud; the lights of the controls fading. Ratchet felt the air being knocked out of his chest and he gasped.
"W-what's going on- the power-"
Clank stood, staring upwards, "Something must be draining the power from the ship. We must get to the engine room quickly!"
Ratchet rubbed his chin and looked upwards at the outlines of the bridge door. The ship was still shaking, but it was steadier- the only problem was that the door to the hall was now... above them. He took a step forward- and something groaned.
"Whoa!"
Ratchet leaped back from Qwark, who had cushioned their fall by simply lying there. He twitched, speaking groggily. Ratchet could barely see anything but he knew he was awake. Clank's eyes shone through the darkness, making their way to Qwark as well.
"Qwark, stop fooling around, we gotta get up to the door and fix the ship!" Ratchet shook Qwark's head, trying to get him to focus.
Suddenly a burst of light entered the tipped ship and the three looked up in alarm. Robots, floating and luminous parts cocked their weapons at them. Ratchet lifted his wrench and blocked the first shot, diving out of the way with Clank. Qwark dodged the other way, yelping.
Ratchet looked back at the minions and tossed a grenade- but before it could touch the robot, a blue force field blocked it. He frowned. They looked familiar-
"Whoa!"
"AAAAAAH!"
The ship was struck from the other side, and suddenly it tipped the other way. Ratchet tripped and toppled painfully across the sloping floor, Clank and Qwark falling into the wall. Ratchet gave a yelp of alarm when he saw he was sliding towards the window and he grabbed at the control panel, clinging for dear life. The minions shot at him, and he let go with one hand to pull out a blaster from his back.
He shot two of them, and Clank tossed a grenade that shot a web-like net over the others. Ratchet watched them fall, still clinging to the control panel to avoid sailing through the glass below him.
He thought long and hard- where had he seem those bronze bots before...suddenly it came to him. Magnus. Spogg, and the minions- the collectors and guards they'd fought in Ephemeris.
His brow creased in suspicion, thinking. "What...?"
Why would Nefarious...have robots designed like the ones the Loki had...?
The ship gave another jolt, and Ratchet was thrown from the control panel. He screwed his eyes shut, his heart leaping- but then something grabbed him just before he smashed into oblivion. He looked over and saw Qwark had caught him, and pulled him away to where he and Clank now stood on the wall.
"No need to thank me." Qwark remarked, dropping Ratchet with a bonk, "I'm just being heroic."
Ratchet thought back to the screaming, but decided not to mention it. "Great. Now c'mon, we have to find out what Nefarious is up to." He stopped again, thinking hard and asked: "But why would he have minions designed like the ones in Ephemeris?"
Clank stood by the destroyed minions in question, and picked up a piece. "I recall seeing the same shields they used, too." He lowered the piece and frowned sincerely, "I have a bad feeling about this, Ratchet. We must contact the President immediately."
Ratchet didn't know what other course of action to take, so he nodded. He felt a little ashamed for getting the ship into this state this early, that is, early since Nefarious showed up. He raised his head, and listened with his large ears. He couldn't hear anything; it seemed the ships had stopped attacking.
Which unnerved him. "Where did they go?"
Clank looked around as well in the dark bridge, "I am not sure...but we must hurry before they come back."
"Gotcha." Ratchet ran over to where the door was, above them. He looked over at Qwark, flexing proudly. "Qwark, give me a lift! We have to get out of here. Sometime this year...?"
He was anxious to go, but annoyance still wormed its way into his voice. Exasperated, he waited until Qwark had come over and gave him a boost up the door.
The automatic didn't open, even when Ratchet waved his hands above his heads to try and alert it. Of course- it had lost its power too. Wonderful. Clank, now in the harness on his back, looked over his shoulder at an air vent. "Ratchet, If I can get up there I'm sure I'll find a way through."
"Great." Ratchet said, a little breathless after he'd tried to pry the door open with his hands, "Your helicopter gadget working?"
Why he hadn't used it before, Ratchet couldn't remember. Then again, helicopter flight in a Ship that was tipping from side to side wasn't exactly helpful.
Clank nodded and activated the gizmo, floating up towards the vent. He opened the shaft and disappeared inside.
Qwark, still holding Ratchet up to the door, thought out loud. "Hang on, how am I gonna get up?"
Ratchet hesitated and forced a smile, thinking fast, "Uuuh...I'll...think of something." He grinned and looked away from him. He'd have to leave Qwark here. Though, he mused, that wasn't exactly a bad thing...
The door slid open from behind and Clank peered down at them, giggling that signature grin of his. Ratchet grinned up at his friend. "Nice work, Pal." He hoisted himself through, leaving Qwark twiddling his thumbs below.
"Uh, Qwark...maybe you should stay here."
"Oh C'mon, guys!" Qwark called, looking torn, "I can't be left here to defeat the robotic minions! Oh- and uh, you'll need me there!"
Clank, always the thinker, smiled smoothly, "You can guard the bridge, Captain, and make sure to answer any calls. We will be back as soon as he have fixed the power problem."
Ratchet turned around and looked over the hall. The power was still flickering here, giving an explanation as to why the door opened on this side. Sparks of electricity buzzed from the walls and he frowned uneasily.
"This is gonna get us in trouble later, pal." Clank hopped back onto his harness as Ratchet pulled out his wrench, breaking into a run along the hallway. He passed through some of the doors, which was weird to do since they were now lying horizontal.
He and Clank were nearing the engine room of the ship when another jolt shook it. Ratchet stumbled off balance, waving his arms a little and yelling. He gripped the wall and looked upwards- where the windows now where. His eyes widened.
More ships where coming for them. But there were others standing out from the blue-red vessels of Nefarious, he could make out the galactic protectorate from Metropolis coming out towards them, three of them.
His pocket buzzed, and Clank pulled out his communicator for him. "We have a transmission from..."
"Al?!"
The hologram projection shone from the device, and Al's cyborg figure waved at them, "Greetings, you two! In need of assistance?"
Ratchet, astonished, replied, "It's great to see you here, honestly- how'd you find us?"
"There's a giant fleet attacking you and heading to Kerwan." He said in a deadpan manner before hastily adding, "B-but Miss Sasha- the President I mean- doesn't believe this attack is what is seems."
Ratchet rose a brow, "Whaddaya mean?"
Al rubbed the back of his head. "The Polaris Defense Force contacted us shortly after you where hit, Ratchet- I don't know how to tell you this- but there's more attacks there than there is here. All heck is breaking loose!"
Ratchet's heart began thumping. Polaris. A terrible feeling came over him as he dared to ask, "Al...whose attacking Polaris?"
Another Hologram appeared, and Tawlyn Apogee's features came into view. Her brow furrowed; looking very serious- but grave. "Ratchet. Tachyon's back."
...
Nefarious watched the camera shots from his Space vessel, tapping his fingers together in delight as he watched Metroplois in its terrified panic. "Look at those imbeciles, Lawrence. One little building or a hundred goes down and they're running like cockroaches!"
He cackled to himself as his butler came to stand beside him. "Indeed, Sir."
"And that's not even the best part!" He exclaimed, spinning around and walking a few steps, running his mouth all the way, "Without the lombax and his backpack, Polaris didn't know what hit them. Everyone's going according to plan and schedule!"
He whipped the schedule clipboard into view from where it had sat on the table, holding it right in Lawrence's face with zeal. "HA!"
"Most adequate of you, Sir. Some say its unhealthy to focus on these things, you know..."
Nefarious ignored him and turned again, back to look at the screens. He, savoring the sight of those who had laughed in his face in every defeat. They ran around like ants as the galactic authorities jumped to counter his forces, though even if they won he still would have accomplished the mission.
But then he saw, on another screen, that some ships where heading towards the tipped Starship where Ratchet and his comrades were currently stranded. His gaze hardened and he pressed the screen irritably; enlarging the image. He didn't appreciate the sight that waited for him.
Fury boiled inside him, "It's too early for them to organize themselves! LAWRENCE!"
"Sir?"
"Ready the back-up wave, make sure their heads spin long enough for the cragmite to get what he wants done!" He would keep this mission going steady- the last thing he wanted was for that- that parasite that had dared called himself superior laughing at his incompetence.
"Incompetence." Nefarious spat, glowering at the security camera of the Starship. He viewed his enemies standing in the halls, sneering, "I'll show that pet what incompetence is..."
He watched with a metallic brow raised as the backpack handed the lombax a communicator- and then that chubby friend of theirs appear. He scowled. "LAWRENCE!"
"Sir? More orders?"
Nefarious ignored the slightly flustered note in his butler's voice, "While you're at it, ready the transmission disrupter. They aren't going anywhere."
"Right away sir. Though I do recommend keeping an eye on the invasion- to make sure not all of the forces are destroyed."
Nefarious spun around, leaping right in front of him, "WHO is in charge here, LAWRENCE?!"
Lawrence turned and trotted away calmly, "You of course, sir."
Nefarious watched him go venomously. Sometimes he felt like kicking Lawrence out he airlock, but if he did that, no one would tape his favorite show and iron his stuff when he was busy with evil work. Speaking of...
He turned to his desk and slammed a hand down unnecessarily hard on one of the buttons, almost threatening its destruction beneath his fist, "Computer! Send a transmission to Polaris. I want to let those other two know what REAL villainy can do!"
