Non-Canon AU: Ghosts

Beck was dead.

This must be clearly understood, or nothing that happens next will make sense.

It had happened last year - suddenly, and from a source that nobody had expected. The question of how Ivan of the Magpies got a hold of the weaponry he'd carted back to his superiors had been a lingering question in everyone's minds, and it was swiftly and horribly answered when Tremor of the Black Dragon appeared as if from nowhere and levelled half of South Vegas. In the resulting skirmish that followed, the Kobbers had been hideously beaten by the geomancer, whose powers had been slowly approaching those of a deity due to past events, and it seemed as though he could just not be brought down by anything that was thrown at him.

The sudden and awful twist ending came when Beck, spitting sparks and furious beyond measure, had leaped at Tremor just as he had been winding up to smash somebody around the head with a fist of solid granite.

The crunch of a shattering AI Core would forever be ingrained in the minds of the people present.

Tremor had then fled, leaving the others to realize what had happened. Then the panic had set in, and Beck's mangled body had been rushed back to the K.O.B. in what basically amounted to a spare wheelbarrow someone had conveniently found lying about. There was a mix of horrible tension and vague hope as the gadgeteers and scientists studied the remains of what had once been their former comrade and spunky, heroic ally. Surely, they reasoned, he could be restored? What were the Kobbers if they couldn't bring someone back from a fate as horrific as this - they'd come back from worse, hadn't they?

All hope died when Doctor Light turned to everyone assembled and shook his head.

There was nothing to recover. The AI Core had been pulverized, and the Xel system had no means of reconstructing the very thing that told them to form a body to begin with. Even if they could recover anything, there wouldn't be anything that was Beck to put in a new body or restore - the same personality, but none of the memory or experience. Doctor Light did not believe in keeping personality backups, as evidenced by his refusal to restore Rush two years ago, and he hadn't the hand-eye co-ordination anymore to recreate the systems he'd forged the body from.

For all intents and purposes... Beck Light was dead.

Permadead.

The realization settled in like sea-fog; slow, but cold and bitter, and everyone took it badly in one way or another. Jewel Man broke down into hysterical sobbing and had to be comforted by an equally tearful Rock, Crash and Splash Woman. Sarah had sobbed quietly, and the rest of her week had been spent in mournful silence, not even touching her pancakes at breakfast. Kevin and Jin had promised to pay tribute to him in a special episode, touched by how he had gone down fighting. And even David, who didn't give a shit about much else, poured himself a drink in memory of the robot - although he immediately forgot why after he'd downed it.

But none took it harder than Ash. Beck had been practically like a second child to him, and the moment he'd heard about what was essentially the murder of a close ally, something dark and shocking erupted from within the Godslayer. A kind of cold, silent rage enveloped him, and he'd turned and left the bar without so much as saying a word. The only news anyone had of him was at the end of that week, when news reports came of an entire army descending upon the south quadrant of Vegas where the Black Dragon made their lair.

There wasn't enough left of Tremor to fill a tuna can.

Ash had been banished to the couch for a month. Even Sam had to admit that it had been rather extreme.

They held a funeral on the next day. It had been so long since they had held a funeral, since barely anyone died amongst the Kobbers like this, that it felt strange and dark. Rock spoke of how proud he was to have a son like Beck, and that he would not wish for any other, not even as a replacement. Ash had quietly spoken of the boy's enthusiasm, willingness to learn and unyielding sense of justice. Melody - the doll - had begun to say something, then broken down and had to be escorted to a back room. Then the single pen drive that contained what remained of Beck's programming was lowered into the dusty earth of Nevada, as all present recited the traditional rites mechanically and dully.

It was going to be a long year. And one of their own wouldn't be around to help.

Viva Las Vegas

WARNING: The following is really fucking long. Read only when you have the spare time. And also something to drink.

~THE PITBROS HOUSE, MANHATTAN~

"Aaaand... check."

"Alright!" whooped Dirk as he threw his last bag into the back of the car. "All set and ready!"

Pit nodded, smiling. Finally, everything was ready. After months of preparation, planning and... not getting too excited, everything was ready for their third big excursion. This time, the ZFS Corporation had settled down in Las Vegas, looking to branch out into big-budget hotels and nightlife entertainment on top of all it's over services, and the Pitbros. knew the other Kobbers would be right behind. It hadn't been hard to find the new King of Beasts - the combined hotel, lounge and casino resort had been advertised literally everywhere one could advertise such a thing. And where the King of Beasts went, the angels would go, naturally.

As Dirk headed round the car to add his computer back to the collection in the back seat, Pit looked up just in time to see Utsuho emerging from the house, her own small bag slung over one shoulder. The older brother had made sure to pack her suitcase in with the others in the trunk of the car, so the Hell Raven didn't have as much to bother carrying from the house.

"You ready?" grinned Pit.

"Yeah," responded Utsuho, holding up her own bag. "I've got everything!"

 "Alright, hop in." And Pit opened the passenger door, allowing Utsuho to walk down and climb into the seat. Then, as Dirk found his own place in the back, Pit circumnavigated the car and clambered into the driver's seat, ensuring he was well-seated before shutting the door.

"You excited to go?" he asked as he buckled up. "I know Vegas isn't going to be like anything you've been to before, so hopefully you'll enjoy it!"

"Yep!" Utsuho seemed to positively radiate excitement. "I mean, I know you took me to Manhattan, but you said it's a lot different from Vegas, so I'm really wondering what it'll be like!"

"Yeah, I've never been, either!" A grin split Pit's face as he pulled out the Satnav. "This is gonna be a new experience for both of us!"

"Not to mention getting married, too!" Dirk shot back. "Hope you guys booked a decent venue - if they don't do shots, I'm out!" Pit just rolled his eyes at that - maybe asking Dirk to be the best man wasn't the brilliant idea it had seemed at the time.

Utsuho turned a little red. "Eheheh... yeah, I'm looking forward to that... Oh what are you planning on doing, Dirk?" she queried, turning around to face Dirk where he sat.

The dark angel shot her a lewd grin. "More like who," he chuckled.

"Dirk, please," groaned Pit, facepalming.

"But yeah, I'm meeting up with Jo once we get there," clarified the younger angel. "She's been itching to go for ages - wants to challenge all the casinos, I bet." He grinned, knowing that his girlfriend's love of money was one feature he was more than happy to support - especially in a place like Vegas.

 "Huh, didn't expect that out of her..." Utsuho took the time to mull that one over, before brightening up. "Well, hopefully she'll do a good job of it!"

"Don't worry, I'll be behind her all the way."

"Of course you will." Unfazed completely by yet another of Dirk's puns, Pit finished typing in the adress, and then hit the ignition button. At once, the car roared into life, almost as eager to get going as it's occupants were, and the sound seemed to lend some life into the white-winged angel. He gripped the steering wheel with expectant fervour and turned to his riding companions, eyes shining with excitement. "

"Alright," he called out, "we ready for off?"

"Yep!" was Utsuho's response. "I'm ready whenever you guys are!"

"Then off we go!" And with that, Pit pulled the car out of the driveway, swung it around with practiced ease, and then set off with no small amount of tire squeal down the road that lead out of the neighborhood and, eventually, Manhattan.

"Cocaine and booze," crowed Dirk, "here we come!"

"Dirk, please."

Pink Friday

"Come on, Beck, try to keep up!"

"I'm coming, dad- ACK!"

"Oh, my gosh! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, mom, I'm fine. It's just... oh, why do we have to do our Christmas shopping now, of all days?"

"Because all the shops put their best deals on at this time of year. And if you want to get any of your presents, we'd be better off buying them today!"

"Yeah, but everyone else has thought so, too, haven't they? Look at all these crowds!"

"He's got a point, Melody. I've never seen it this bad in all my life. Not since the Great Crush of '87!"

"Yes, and it was a good job Rush was there, otherwise poor old Light wouldn't have made it! Honestly, the way these shops make such a fuss about Christmas nowadays-"

"Um, guys? I can't find Uncle James."

"...Oh, great. I told him to stay right behind us! He's probably gotten swept away or lost now!"

"Calm down, Rock. We have our phones, remember? We'll just-

"...What's that coming towards-"

"CITIZENS!"

"Your king... has arrived~"

"..."

"..."

"...Mom, dad, I wanna go home."

-------

And people wonder why Beck doesn't go Christmas shopping.

Belated Introductions

~ZFS Docking Bay, Manhattan, Earth~

If you've ever been stuck in an airport waiting for anything at all, then you don't need to go to the ZFS Docking Bay around the middle of April. It's pretty much that, but worse, because so many people are trying to get their reservations for the ZFS King of Beasts checked out, or buy last-minute tickets to ensure they at least get some kind of a bed to watch the stars go by on. The result is a cacophony of humans, aliens and more forming tidal waves instead of lines, and a staff and service straining under the weight of it all.

Which may have had something to do with the annoyance displayed by a certain pair of angels.

"Bloody security checks!" snapped Dirk, looking as though he dearly wants to punch somebody.

"I know, right?" groaned Pit as he hauled his own suitcase along behind him, one hand running through his hair. "The length they took, you'd think those guys had nothing better to do!" As he spoke, he permitted himself a glance upwards, surveying the irresponsibly massive timetable hanging over the luggage conveyers. Whilst many other flights and ships, headed to many other destinations, were present at this bustling airport, the angel's eyes immediately flickered to the biggest LED display at the top, and relief washed over him as he read what was tattooed upon it like spilled orange juice on a dark tablecloth.

"Thank Palutena," he breathed, "we're still on time."

"Ugh, and a good thing too," grumbled his twin, giving a sharp yank on his own suitcase as it lagged behind on the tiles. "I need to rest my fucking feet right now, I've been on them all day.."

"Well, here's our chance," came the response as the white-winged angel pointed towards the departure seating area to the left. Whilst the majority of the metallic benches were filled with holidaymakers of varying size, shape and shades of blue, by sheer luck he'd managed to find two of them close to the main plaza area, and immediately both brothers made an immediate beeline for them, moving so quickly you'd be forgiven for thinking they'd found water in a desert. As one, they flung themselves onto the unoccupied seats in a mad scramble, eventually sinking down into them with contended sighs as they took the weight off their aching feet.

"Much better," was Dirk's evaluation, and he immediately reached into a pocket and yanked out his 3DS, flipping it open to be greeted with where he'd left off on his game. Pit was quick to follow by pulling out a gadget of his own, but not a games console of any kind - a small, tablet-like device with earphones, which he immediately popped into his ears before tapping the screen. Noticing the movement, Dirk turned to observe his brother, and one eyebrow quirked upward as he observed the swirling pattern of yellow, black and white appearing on the screen - one that he had become recently familiar with.

"Dude?" he quizzed. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now," was the response. "I mean, what else can I do after enduring being patted down for that amount of time?" With another press, Pit conjured up a menu upon the screen and began eagerly scrolling through the options, searching for something that would soothe his annoyance and stress just right on this occasion.

Dirk shifted uneasily in his seat, a little disturbed. "I dunno, bro. You hear some stuff about the Ministry back in Ireland, and how they got the funding to do all this."

"Alright, I'll give you that their methods weren't exactly sound." Pit briefly looked up from his task to fix his brother with a reassuring grin. "But trust me, this new treatment thing's done me nothing but good. Even you had to admit that me not complaining so much about my workload was a nice change for once!"

Dirk permitted himself a small, sardonic chuckle at this, but said nothing, and Pit promptly returned to his device. And as the faint strains of the annoyingly-bouncy jingle filtered out through the older brother's earphones as he set about his unusual form of stress relief, the younger Pitbro looked around the airport, noting the variety of people that pass him by. A small smile passeds over his face as a realisation cameto him, one that, whilst not relevant to their earlier discussion, gives him something of a petty victory over his brother nonetheless.

He doesn't have to wait to meet his girlfriend.

Meanwhile, at another part of the airport, seating arrangements were the least of Beck's concerns.

"Mo-om," he groaned for the umpteenth time that day, "leave my hair alone!"

"For goodness sake, Beck," huffed Melody as she diligently raked the comb through her son's mullet, "you're acting like I'm trying to scalp you! I'm not Tomahawk Man, alright? And besides," she added, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the boy's wiggling against her body, "do you want to end up with hair like your father's?"

Rock, standing a little way off, couldn't help but smile at the scene, knowing full well the discomfort his son was undergoing. But he wasn't above interjecting into the conversation: "Trust me, son, you don't want helmet-hair. None of the girls like a man who resembles a rejected Dragon Ball Z character."

"Do I look like I'm going on a blind date, dad?" whined Beck, almost yowling as the comb once again swept through his hair like a shark on the prowl. With a desperate grunt and one final kick of the legs, the young android finally succeeded in breaking out of the cage of his mother's arms, dropping out of the air and landing with a thump on both feet. Turning back, the boy shot a glare of annoyance up at his mother, who responded by sticking her tongue out at him in mockery of his childish behaviour.

"Look, I'm clean and neat now," grumbled Beck in response. "Can we get a seat now?"

At this, Melody made an exaggerated show of thinking very hard about it, putting one hand on her chin in a theatrical manner. "I don't knooooow~," she chimed, almost musically. "Are you sure you went over your list of things to pack?"

"Yes, mom!" Beck could have screamed at this point - the amount of torture inflicted on him this entire day was starting to tell on his nerves. Whenever he'd pictured his upcoming holiday on the ZFS, he pictured toys galore, a swimming pool and, most importantly of all, gormless and unsuspecting bad guys and goons to pummel senseless as proof of his cutting-edge tech. None of those fantasies involved being constantly harassed by his parents just to make very much sure he'd packed extra pairs of underpants, and he was rapidly starting to lose patience.

Fortunately for him, Melody simply laughed at his exasperation. "Just kidding, Beck, just kidding!"

It was about then that Rock checked his watch, and his eyes bugged out as he saw just what time it was.

"Jeez! Melody, honey, we'd better get going - we'll be late for our reservation otherwise!" His cry alerted Melody to the situation, who glanced up at the clock on the wall to confirm jjst what her husband had said. On seeing what the time was, she too goggled in surprise at the late hour, and then, thinking quickly, dropped to her knees to say a few final words to Beck.

"Alright, son," she began, and here rattled off her last instructions so quickly that it was a wonder that Beck was able to keep up with them. "Remember-to-wear-a-clean-shirt-every-day-and-don't-forget-to-wipe-your-face-every-morning-like-your-grandfather-told-you-and-make-sure-you-change-your-bed-and-ring-me-once-a-day-and-don't-eat-too-many-sweets-before-bedtime-also-try-to-be-civil-to-your-uncle-even-when-he-starts-putting-on-the-glittery-jumpsuit-okay-love-you-have-a-good-time-bye!" And without waiting for Beck to reply she gave him a farewell peck on the cheek and half-sprinting in the direction of the exit, Rock following closely behind.

Beck waved until they were out of sight, then sighed and turned back to the cafe.

Jewel Man lowered the coffee and shot him a smirk.

"Don't worry too much," he croomed. "I'm sure you and I can manage by ourselves~"

At the back of his A.I. Core, Beck groaned.

~A Military Camp, Undisclosed Location, Porphyrion~

 "You mean, you're going alone?"

"That is correct," replied the Tactician nonchalantly, as he pushed a rather bulky-looking book into place in his backpack. The two others at the entrance of his tent - a bulky-looking, pimple-faced knight and a less bulky, but nonetheless intimidating brunette woman - gazed at him with astonishment, his frankness and seeming indifference leaving them at a brief loss for words.

"But... we're talking Orvance here!" cried the woman. "That place where they had that big war among the Star People, when the Festival was happening! There's gonna be trouble again, mark my words - there's never any good news when they get involved!"

"That's right," piped up the man, his armour clinking as he shuffled his feet to a better standing position. "That, and Dragonus is gonna be passing over the place. You can see it even from here," and at this he raised an armoured hand to point at the huge, floating mass that was visible in the sky, it's size apparent even from where they were. "You know what they say about what happens when it comes over a kingdom - Dragon Skies and all that."

The silver-haired man looked up from his packing, smiling up at his comrades. But it's a small and strained smile - not only a sad one, but also one that looks awkward and forced. The overall effect is that of someone who's read about smiling in books, but has a bit of trouble putting it into practice in a social situation. To him, it's rather like putting on a mask.

"Marco, Celia," he responded warmly, "your concern does you credit. But firstly, I have met the Star People before, as you know well from last year. And, contrary to popular opinion, they were as hospitable, friendly and accommodating as the nearest innkeeper at any establishment of our country you care to name." As he completed the sentence, he turned back to his packing, managing to slip a paper folder into a gap between books, before throwing the lid over its contents.

"Secondly," he added with a grunt as he struggled with the clip, "this is something I must undertake alone. Despite our best efforts as a team, we have come no closer as to solving the mystery of my identity - even my name remains unknown to me. I can only conclude, therefore, that my working apart from the group is the only way to efficiently and decisively solve this puzzle, one that has been hanging over my head all of my life."

An exasperated huff left Celia, the blonde hearing perfectly well what her comrade is saying but refusing to believe it. She quickly rounded upon Marco, looking to vent her frustrated disbelief on something else, and the taller knight actually shrank back at her expression of annoyance. She may have been only an archer, but there was a good reason for that - people fleeing from her temper made better targets.

"Tell him, Marco," she snapped, pointing at the robed man as he growled uncharacteristically at his uncooperative luggage. "Tell him this is a stupid idea and he's going to get hurt again."

Marco blinked, a little slow on the uptake. "Why? You just said it yourself. Besides," he added, with an almost defiant tone to his voice, "he can hold his own. He's got that magic book, remember?"

"Oh, yes," cried Celia sarcastically, throwing her hands up into the air. "Because that worked out so well the last time he left our company! Oh, he ended up with a bandaged head and a dire need for a new change of clothes, but it doesn't matter because this is something he needs to do himself!"

"Now, look, sis," Marco began to say. But that train of thought was interrupted by the click of a rucksack stop finally locking together. The two warriors turned to find the Tactician, with a triumphant cry at having bested the strap, hoisting the bag onto his shoulders, shifting it's weight into a comfortable position on his back. Celia merely rolled her eyes at the scene, her brother by contrast offering no input as the shorter man reached for the holdall by his sleeping bag, hoisting it up before walking towards them.

"I have already handed in my Absence of Duty notice," he announceed as he emerged from the tent into the late morning sunlight, "so the general knows what I'm doing. And with any luck, I'll only be a day's travel or so away from the garrison you are all moving to. I know this seems an inconvenient arrangement, but believe me when I say I have this all planned out with the least amount of inconvenience. And now, I really must be going, or I will be late for the opening ceremony at this rate."

He turns, took two steps forward, and bounced off somebody with an "Oof!" of surprise.

"No, you're not." Celia barred his waY, hands on her hips and face stern - she was the obstacle he'd collided with. "I've explained this to you until I'm blue in the face, but it's obviously not getting through that thick skull of yours. So I'll say it again - you have a duty to you King and-"

"Oh, dear," groaned Marco, placing one gloved hand upon his forehead. This was his sister on the starting line of what he liked to call "Lecture Mode". Everyone in the camp was familiar with this, where she poured out her mind and opinion on something or someone and would only stop until some other bodily function, like hunger or the need to piss took over. It was usually directed at some soldier or other who'd offended her in some way, and men and women alike dreaded to hear the moment when the archer got into full swing, ranting at the top of her voice at whatever unfortunate soul had invoked her wrath on this occasion. At any moment, it seemed as though the Tactician was going to be that somebody copping an earful from her.

Fortunately for Marco, she never got that far.

"Tace."

It was one of those blink-and-you'll-miss-it spells, a mere flash of the eyes and a hazing of the air that would otherwise go unnoticed. But the effect was dramatic - Celia's voice instantly cut out, not even a whisper coming from her mouth as her incoming lecture was stalled by surprise. Her slender brow knitted in confusion as she silently worked her mouth and jaw, at first unable to figure out what had happened, before catching sight of the stern yet knowing look upon the magician's face. Realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she immediately began launching into what would have no doubt been an expletive-filled tirade at her fellow commander for pulling such a cheap trick, had she the voice to convey it.

Unfortunately, the silencing spell's effect meant that it merely looked like she was pulling a very convincing impression of an angry chimpanzee, arms flailing and face contorting like putty. Unable to help himself, Marco promptly burst out laughing at his sister's predicament, his knees giving out as he fell onto his rear with a clattering of armour. Whereupon the furious Celia rounded upon him, screamed something inaudible in his general direction and then turned and stormed away towards the camp's medical tent, needing only cartoon steam clouds pouring from her ears to complete the image.

A larger smile of amusement played on the Tactician's face as he watched Marco, still chuckling, pull himself up onto his feet, dusting himself down.

"Dicing with death, eh, mate?" the knight joked as he put one arm around the smaller man's shoulders. "You know how much she hates that spell!"

The silver-haired mage's smile widened into a genuine grin, his usual stoic demeanor sliding aside in the company of someone he was comfortable with. "Why else would I employ it so often?" he rejoined, in a hearty tone that matched his friend's own jocular mannerisms. "I will admit, however, that for a moment I was afraid she would actually strike me!"

"No need to worry about that," assured Marco. "She's all bark and no bite - always has been." Disengaging from his companion as he spoke, the knight quickly turned and began walking in the direction of the medical tent, no doubt in order to observe Celia receiving yet another dose of treatment for the spell. As he did so, however, he turned and called over his shoulder, raising his voice to be heard over the clatter and humming as the morning camp activities got properly underway.

"I'd clear out now, if I was you - she's gonna have some choice words aimed your way!"

The Tactician nodded, knowing all too well what those words would more than likely be. Then, without waiting to see if Marco would succeed in delaying his irate sister, he turned and quickly began to make tracks, walking at a very brisk pace that seemingly ignored the weight of both his holdall and the rucksack he carried with him. It wasn't long before he'd put a very good distance between himself and the camp - enough so that by the time Celia came seeking her usual brand of petty revenge, he'd be long one and she'd have to give up on the whole thing.

In his mind's eye, the rolling hills of Wensdale mingled and merged with the shining world of the Star People, and a whistful sigh escaped his parted lips.

It really had been too long.

~The Barrier, Northern Porphyrion~

The morning sun was just beginning to rise over the Barrier. It's bright fire blossomed on the horizon and tinted the packed snow, sparkling golden under red-daubed skies dotted with dark grey clouds. A shaft of light pierced through the thin veil of mist, striking the glacial ice and throwing up a hazy rainbow into the air that shimmered like heat haze. Yet there was no warmth to be found, for the driving wind carried with it the bitter cold of the north, and flurries of snow danced across the ground in freezing white sheets.

This didn't seem to bother the lone figure standing on the southernmost edge of the glacier, though.

Eyes squinting against the morning sun, Ymir the Tusk casually uncorked the stein he clutched in one gloved paw and brought it to his mouth for a swig. It had been two days since he'd begun his trek - two days since the epic bar brawl at the Grouchy Walrus that had seen the end of Markus the Mighty, the self-proclaimed strongest fighter in all his village. Tables had been smashed, glasses had been shattered over heads, and in the end yet another foolish challenger had been laid out on the beer-soaked floor, the patronage toasting the Tuskarr's victory. The ale he gulped down at this moment was a souvenier from the barkeep himself, and Ymir had been more than happy to accept it.

Yet there was one thirst he had failed to quench - the thirst for battle. Markus had been a warm-up, as far as he'd been concerned, and it seemed nowadays that there was nobody left to challenge him, nobody to match him in the arena. The old champions were gone, and all the new blood springing up was impatient and headstrong, with none of the respect for the old ways or appreciation for a hearty scrap. None of them cared for the meaning of the fight anymore - they only bothered to learn the fighting arts in order to boost their egos or seek petty revenge on class bullies or what have you. For a while, Ymir had felt a bit dejected.

But now, as he finished his drink and replaced the cork, his gaze was set on the far horizon, where the vague outline of towns and cities upon rolling hills could be seen through the mist. That, the barkeeper had told him, was Orvance - the same kingdom that saw the great War of the Stars but a year ago, where warriors of untold and unparalleled strength clashed for the fate of the kingdom, and indeed, the entire planet. Admittedly, the betusked brawler knew very little about the nature of stars, other than they served as useful guides on dark nights when a seal hunt had gone disastrously wrong.

But fighting... now, there was a siren call he couldn't refuse.

With a low chuckle, Ymir stepped down from the glacier, in that one movement crossing the borders between the North and Orvance itself. And as he continued his long trek south, the question crossed his mind of what Orvancian ale tasted like.

~Castle Bloodaxe, The Enchanted Forest~

It is a well-known and popular fact that Orcs do not form armies. The word "army" implies the presence of discipline, co-ordination and tactical aptitude that was beyond their simple, ale-addled minds. Ask an Orc to co-ordinate a team of footballers and he'd take one blank look at the blackboard before putting their fist through it, then charging out to piledrive the opposing team into the pitch. A better term for their military gatherings would be "rabble", since despite the numbers they still very much behaved like a crowd of hooligans on the lookout for windows to smash and cars to steal.

This particular rabble, emerging from the forests that surrounded Castle Bloodaxe, thought they were going to have a good time of it. The building they were approaching on looked virtually defenseless - their scouts had reported not a sign of archers on the battlements or guardsmen on the gates, and not even a single trace of a patrol had been detected on the surrounding land. Not one of the greenskins could believe their seemingly-amazing fortune, and had immediately clamored en masse to begin the day's pillaging in style. Had they the brains to remember just whose lands they were invading, then they probably not have been so cocky.

As it was, they had gotten just onto the third verse of their bone-chilling war chant before the portcullis flew open like it had been stabbed up the bum.

"HA'WAAAAAAY THA' LAAAAAADS!"

The poor bastards never saw it coming - the green and orange blur zooming out of the doors moved almost too fast for the eye to track. The front line of goblins was sent flying backwards in an instant, crashing into the burlier Orcs at the back and bowling them over like ninepins. The archers on the left flank immediately lost whatever morale they could claim to have, throwing down their weapons and bolting into the forest screaming. As for the ram-carrying siege trolls, they were so slow on the uptake that by the time they realized just what had happened, half of them were already unconscious from a hefty boot to the skull.

In a matter of minutes, it was all over - hardly a battle so much as a one-sided curbstomping. The rabble was in dismay, half of them in flight and the rest of them either unconscious or groaning from their fractured bones. The goblins were nowhere to be found, the catapults were wrecked shambles and the sole dragon they thought to bring along was tangled among the trees, whimpering in confusion. And amongst the confusion of it all stood the red-haired, axe-wielding barbarian princess who had caused the ruckus in the first place.

As the prone Orcs looked up at her, terrified and bewildered, Barbara Bloodaxe dusted her skirt down and flashed her trademark gap-toothed grin around the scene.

"Sorry te lace ye aal laak that," she called out in her trademark thick accent, "but Aa'm i' a bit o' a pelt. Star Festival's gannin' on doon Orvance whey, and Aa'm clammin' mightily fer a gud ale an' roast far ahint yon fells! Bide a few wee months, an' Aa'll be howway hyem 'afore ye can put a cuddie oop Blackwell Rock!"

And with that, the woman hoisted her axe over one shoulder and sped off into the forest, through a gap in the tress that marked the begginings of the cart trail. The Orcs took one look at her retreating form, hair flying in the wind, and decided that maybe the imp who'd wanted to start a band instead wasn't such a moron after all.

~The Drunken Gryphon, Wensdale~

Tavish is probably in a good mood. The Star Festival is coming round once more, meaning customers would soon be coming in to sample his huge menu of food and drink and, above all, make him huge wodges of cash. The Star People are returning in droves to share technology, recipes and more, and their unique brand of entertainment would inevitably draw in even more people from far and wide. And those people would need feeding, beds to stay in and an opportunity to get utterly smashed whilst shouting at the scrying glass. So yes, he's most likely in a good mood.

So in all the excitement of getting his tavern ready for the big tourist rush, he may not notice one of the floorboards shifting.

"Kero..." 

Family Reunion - Part 3

This is the third and final of the collab between me and RedSpy. Thanks loads, man, it was fun whilst it lasted! :D

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“Right, let’s get this underway. Are you ready, Beck?”

“Ready to rock and roll, Grandad!”

Light nodded, and set about tapping buttons on the control panel again. Lunch, it had seemed, had passed by slower than it ought to have done - there had been no end of conversation during it, mostly about Beck and what he was capable of. Roll, of course, had been on hand to pour out drinks and take away finished plates and meals, and much fuss was made by Jewel Man about how just darling Oceanus would have looked with sunglasses on. After they’d finished their dessert (and succeeded in prying James off the green Robot Master), they’d made an immediate beeline for the training room again, where Zephyrus had just finished uploading his battle data onto the computer.

In the centre of the room, Beck cracked his knuckles as digital planes and pillars began to form.

“Who’s it gonna be, big bro?” asked a relieved Oceanus, thankful Jewel Man was stopped before unleashing any Purnima-style makeovers.  “You’re not gonna throw Tiamat at him or anything like that, right?”

“Maybe one day, but not yet,” the fanbot replied. “I think I’ve picked a pretty solid test foe, though.”  He turned to Beck as the hologram began to take shape, a rather pointy wireframe of a humanoid.  “You ready to go, Beck?”

“Sure am, Uncle!” called Beck, assuming a stance as he turned to face the hologram.

Slowly, the wireframe faded, skin and colour covering the shape…

 

“You will die, mortal,” rumbled the ominous and familiar figure of Shao Kahn, hefting his hammer onto one shoulder.

Family Reunion - Part 2

This is Part 2 of the collab between me and RedSpy. Thanks again, man! :D

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Zephyrus blinked, speechless for a second.  Of all the things he’d expect Light’s new creation to say, “uncle” was not one of them.  He hadn’t been considered family like that since . . . Hypotenuse, really.  Besides, that was different.  He helped build and train her, but Beck was a total stranger.  A Lightbot, too.

If there was any sign the Wily Wars were over, this was it.  Oceanus broke the silence first.

“Did you see him take down that Guts Dozer with his bare hands, Zeph!?  Coolest nephew ever, right?”

A moments hesitation.  And then . . . acceptance.  “Damn straight we do, little bro. Pleasure to meet you, Beck!  Enjoying your combat training?”

Beck’s grin widened. “Heck yeah, I did! You see the way I scrapped those rusty old Sniper Joes? Didn’t stand a chance!”

“Now, now, Beck,” comes the voice of Doctor Light, laughing good-naturedly as the balcony he and the Light-Bot’s parents sat on descended towards the ground. “The tests aren’t over just yet - we still haven’t seen your Blast and Dash modes in action! And remember, in real life you’ll be going up against things far more advanced than Wily’s obsolete robots!”

“Yeah, well…” Beck shuffled his feet, a little embarrassed but undeterred. “65% still ain’t bad, right? Even if you did have to limit me to that!”

Rock chuckled as he patted his son’s head. “Never pays to get too cocky, son. Oh, hey, Zephyrus,” he adds, as if noticing the fan-bot for the first time, “how’s things?” And he sticks out one hand for a handshake.

“Quiet, thankfully,” Zephyrus responded, chuckling a little and returning the handshake.  “I can see things’ve been going well for you, too.”  Maybe one of these days Zeph would truly start a family of his own.  Hell, maybe he already has one.  Hypotenuse, Sine, Rock . . . maybe it’d be worth checking out the ZFS next year after all.

“You won’t believe some of the stuff you’ll see in the real world,” Osh added.  “Trust me, if you see some of the stuff big bro and I took down, you’d set those limits to 100% ASAP.  But hey, if that was your 65 I bet you’ll be unstoppable at full force!”

Beck gave a cocky laugh at this. “Just let me at ‘em,” he crowed, punching the palm of one hand. “I’d turn ‘em to mush in seconds!” Melody merely rolled her eyes at her son’s boisterous behaviour, whilst Rock held back a smile of pride.

Zeph turned to Light, a bit curious.  “So, what kind of robotics miracle did you pull off this time?” he asked.  “Beck’s chassis sure seems different from most of the ‘bots I’ve seen around the skull fortress.”

“Oh, it wasn’t all my doing.” Light tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially, as if sharing a great secret. “I had a little help from some old colleagues of mine - Doctors White and Blackwell, from the Institute of Higher Robotics. They provided most of the technology Beck runs on, I simply put it all together, wrapped it in ribbons and gave it to Rock and Melody on their wedding day!”

“He said nothing about it all the time he was working,” Rock added, rubbing the back of his head with a grin. “Kind of just sprung it on is out of nowhere - you should have seen the look on James’ face.”

“But still,” finished Melody, “it really was more than we could have asked for.” She gazed down at Rock as she spoke, eyes full of affection, and Rock couldn’t help but smile back. And then, of course, neither of them could resist leaning in and planting a quick peck on each other’s lips.

“Daa-aad,” groaned Beck childishly, and the two older robots couldn’t help but laugh at his embarrassment.  Neither could the ro-bros.  Poor, poor Beck.

“But in a nutshell,” continued Light, “the basic idea was to eliminate old-fashioned computer chips and create a new, dynamic system that can adapt to any kind of challenge Beck faces. He has an A.I. Core, of course, but that just deals with who he is, memories and things like that. Everything else is managed by a sort of artificial DNA that forms his entire structure - what Blackwell calls “Xel”. And to be brutally honest,” he finished with a sort of sigh, “learning how to create and apply that kind of technology was complicated even for someone of my learning!”

A three-man collab project, huh?  Zeph had a feeling that somewhere, Celestia’s science-sense was tingling.  

“That’s really impressive, doctor!” the robot remarked, still trying to fully process how all of this functioned.  Artificial, highly-adaptive DNA . . . it sounded like Beck would constantly be learning and evolving in new ways.

Osh, meanwhile, figured it was a better adaptive strategy than Zeph’s method of getting beaten up and hitting the repair shop afterwards.

“What kinda stuff can these Xel thingies do?” Osh asked.

Light opened his mouth to answer, but it was Beck who jumped at the chance to demonstrate.

“This,” he said, and held out an arm. Which then split apart like a badly-made Kinder Surprise, the external bands unlocking and dissolving as the internal struts dissolved into a whirlwind of miniature, glowing blue cubes. Within a mere second, these shining particles had merged together again, snapping into place and solidifying as new parts and framework flashed into existence. Where once an arm had been, a very impressive-looking gun was now poised - the sort of gun Duke Nukem himself would be proud to hold at crotch level whilst making dumb pop culture references.

“When Grandad said adaptive,” explained the android, green eyes shining with delight, “he meant adaptive. Just change a few lines of code and I can completely change my shape and function - from a loader on tracks to a gun-toting death machine!” And with a flourish he reversed the whole process, the arm reconstructing itself in yet another whirring flash of energy.

“...basically that,” deadpanned the doctor. “He can also copy code from units that also use Xel, but we’re still testing that.”

Oceanus was left speechless, a dreamy far-off look in his eyes as he imagined the giant, spiked fists one could create for the ultimate facepunch. Truly the next generation of godpunching would be in good hands if these Xels caught on!

His dreaming was interrupted as Zephyrus gently shook him back into reality.  “Here’s hoping the testing goes well!” he added, clacking his claw a few times thoughtfully.  “You know, I bet Osh and I have a lot of battle data stored in our memory banks.  The King of Beasts had a bunch of tough friends and foes alike.  Think it’d be of any use for helping test Beck?”

Beck’s eyes seem to gleam with delight at this - the prospect of something that could actually match him for power is like someone dangling an ice-cream in front of his face. Of course, it did not go unnoticed by Light, who was by now more than used to the competitive streak within his “grandson”.

“Why, of course,” he chimed in, “I’m sure that would be very useful indeed! After all, you Kobber fellows seem to attract all manner of trouble, and it’s best to be prepared!”

“Oh, but Father,” cut in Melody, “He’s been in these tests for half the day now, without so much as a break! Don’t you think he’s had enough time in the simulator?”

“I’m not tired, Mom!” It seemed true enough - Beck was bouncing around like he was on a pogo stick. “I could take on five Guts Dozers, if I wanted, and finish off a King Gojulas for afters!”

Rock laughed good-naturedly, but at once took his wife’s side. “We have been at this for a while, dad. And on the subject of afters, it is getting on towards lunch-time!”

There was a pause as Dr. Light considered this, one hand on his chin.

“...Well, now you mention it… Yes, I suppose a break would be in order. Give the Xel some time to cool down after that exertion, so to speak…” He looked down at the Ro-Bros. “Care to join us at all, you two? Or do you have any urgent business to attend to?”

Right.  Food.  Oceanus knew he forgot something in all this excitement.  Shit, the bagel must’ve been cold by now.  He turned to his brother, giving him a somewhat pleading look.

“Sounds great to us,” Zephyrus responded.  “Thanks for the offer!”

“The pleasure is ours!” retorted Rock with a grin. Beck punched the air with a whoop, apparently more than happy to have relatives over for dinner. Light nodded, also seeming somewhat grateful.

“Come this way, all of you,” he commanded, as eager to see to lunch as anyone else. “I believe Roll may have some of her fruitcake left over from yesterday, and I know the others will be glad to see you two!” And with that, he turned and lead the way towards the living space of the Light household, with Rock and Melody hand-in-hand behind him and Beck following last. The youngest android turned and made a “come on” motion to the Ro-Bros as he went, seeming quite eager indeed.

“Come on, Uncles,” he called. “Maybe you can tell me about all the bad guys whose butts you’ve kicked!” And with that parting remark he turned a corner, following his parents and creator, and vanished.

“Damn straight we will!” Osh replied, pumped to start eating.  He turned to Zeph, an optic slightly enlarged as if he was cocking an eyebrow.

“You want back in, don’t you.”

“Hm?  What do you mean?” the fanbot replied, a little curious.

“The ZFS life!  I saw you checking out Beck’s fighting.  Can’t tell me that didn’t spark some memories, bro.”

“. . . I’ll show up for the brawl and then think about it later.  Lets just get some food for now.”  Zephyrus headed off, Oceanus following behind.

Seems like some things just never change.

Family Reunion - Part 1

The following is a collab between me and RedSpy. Thanks for the help, man! :)

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It had started off like any other day for the Ro-Bros. Wake up, crawl out of bed, polish up, head down for breakfast. The everyday morning routine that thousands of species across the galaxy indulge in to set themselves up for the trials of the day. Some don’t, but they’re often considered backward or wierd by the majority of the universe. And it’s a privilege that, only recently, Zephyrus and Oceanus have been able to enjoy, punctuating it with their trademark banter as they pour the cereal or warm up the pop-tarts in the toaster.

So it comes as a surprise when the routine is interrupted by the ringing of a text message on Zephyrus’ mobile phone. It comes as even more of a surprise when the sender is none other than Dr. Light, and carries only this simple message:

“I have a surprise for you two. My lab, lunch time.

- Dr. Light.”

The robot gave his phone a puzzled look, making sure to balance it in his non-claw hand.  “Huh, who’s that?” his brother asked, heading to the other side of the table to try and peek at the message.  “I swear, if any friggin telemarketers found your number . . . “

“No need to worry about that, thankfully.” Zephyrus assured his brother.  “But I think we’ve got some important business to attend to . . . “  He held the phone over to give to Oceanus, who squinted a little trying to get a peek at it.  Flip-phones were so backwards, but a touchscreen wouldn’t last a second when faced with Zeph’s claw.

“Light?  If he’s calling its gotta be something good.  Let’s get moving!”  Oceanus tossed Zephyrus the phone and dashed off, quickly remembering to grab his half-buttered bagel before leaving the house behind.  Zephyrus followed, signalling for Mach so the duo wouldn’t be stuck running the whole way there.