Auria

Chapter 22 - The One, True Bob

The small, gray alien stood beside a silver-rimmed cabinet in the old kitchen.  Three gray-suited men entered, the sides of their helmets scanning green lasers as the men perused each room.  Each stepped with a heavy pace, searching, scanning and puffing hard to breath recycled air.  A golden hue covered everything within range of their revealing helmet-lamps.  Bob continued to stand steady, frozen against a wall where his shadow succumbed to its own nemesis - light.  The men passed, leaving behind a room where two of their own lay immobile with busted helmets.  Dark, wet spots adorned the floor beneath withered noses.

Bob shuffled the distance, staring intently at the two, downed men.  He recognized Gen's clones - the men made entirely from Gen's DNA, attempting to pass down his glorious gift of death.  Both appeared lifeless in a growing puddle of mucus.  As Bob leaned to inspect, the golden fog lifted higher, surrounding them with clear air.  An unknown energy reached across and covered the two men in blazing green and yellow as he continued to stare.

Bob's mind's-eye flashed during a blinking sensation, covering the two, glowing corpses in a red sheen.  It revealed reverse motions as the men rear-walked to re-enter a ship, un-boarded the ship and backed into a yellow building.  Many tall, gray aliens came in and out where the three laid restrained in stiff, leaning beds.  A blue-tinted haze folded from right to left.  The dead returned unto the dead.  Bob touched each man, absorbing the rolling aura into a wrinkled finger.  One man quietly coughed while Bob shuffled into the next room.

He crossed wet stains on the floor without so much as a skewed mark.  A miss-matched, half-inflated Sot leaned hunched over a chair, one muscular arm and leg in the seat and the rest of him - shrunken.  The fog lifted, pushed away from Bob's center, sticking to walls and ceiling alike.  It slowly mutating into a golden portrait.  The rolls of mist began to twist, forming actions and reactions on every flat surface.

Sot lept through the air, arms and fists above his head in one, moving portrait, facing down the two gunmen.  Gen leaned forward embracing round after round of plasma fire in another and Auria's hands locked above her head in the last.  Her face told a sad story of betrayal.  Three men in helmets stood behind her, weapons drawn.  Bob blinked, halting the moving pictures.

The gray alien graced Sot's back with bony fingers, a simple, grazing touch while leaving.  A green and yellow aura encased Sot, then the tinted hue spun into an infantile vortex, returning to Bob when he rounded the corner.  He stopped in the hallway, closed eyes and sighed.  Only a faint shadow remained - floating along the hallway, hugging the far-right wall.

In the breezeway of the underground city stood a small outbuilding near to where the ship landed.  But, Bob's ship was nowhere to be found, only dusty imprints leading from another larger ship.  It sat near the entrance surrounded by gray suits, all donning helmets and breathing recycled air.  Bob's shadow loomed near the entranceway as Gen and Auria were carted along a ramp.  Neither moved.  Behind the shadow came a familiar, infantile voice.

“So, what are we going to do?” said Loof.

The Gen-clone carried a tiny, baby monkey.  It dove from his shoulder and began to climb walls, heading for an overhead window.

“Tell me what you see, Loof.” said 238.  “We can't just sit here and do nothing.”
“I'll do anything for my Gen.”
“You know, I'm also Gen.”
“But, how many times have you won the Arena?”
“That doesn't matter.  My name is...  I think I've found a name.”
“Don't tell me you want to be called Gen.  You can't both be Gen.”
“My name is, never-mind.  It sounds stupid.”

Loof held onto the window frame with two fingers and swung from side to side.  It scratched a red butt with the other hand, then sniffed fingers, sticking a tongue out in disgust.

“It can't be that stupid.” said Loof.  “Because, in the heat of a moment like this, that's how we find our true selves.”
“Vengeance.  My name is Vengeance and my...”

While talking, another set of gray-suited gunmen entered the room, pulled weapons and stood, simply listening.  238 noticed the two and improvised.

“Brothers, so glad to see you.” he said, realizing the two suited men were Gen-clones as well.  “I seem to have torn my suit in a fight with those... evil... people.”

The two gray-suits braced and fired hand-held weapons, though the bursting plasma-bolts appeared to stop in front of 238, discharging into an unknown, blue energy-field.  Loof lept from its perch, skin-flap sailing directly into the line of fire.  Seeing the monkey above him, 238's eyes glazed in green, then yellow.  His foot back-kicked the wall behind, pushing him off to run very fast, faster than he'd ever ran before, piercing the blue field as the last of two plasma shots were absorbed.  He released a flying kick into one gunman's chest, knocking him against the wall, ricocheting his body and kicking him again, sending him side-ways into the second gunman.  Loof landed on 238's shoulder.

“Wow.” said Loof.  “You really are Vengeance.”
“Pain.” screamed 238.

He recovered from kicking, turned and finished off the second gunmen with a hail of fists to the chest, then smashed the helmet across the wall.  The steaming, bloody head groaned before going silent.  In the far corner, a small, shadowy figure loomed.  Yellow eyes flashed while the shadow dissolved into darkness.

“What happened?” said 238.
“Vengeance and Pain.  Pain and Vengeance.” said Loof, dancing across 238's shoulders.  “Nothing goes together like Vengeance and Pain.  You just whooped ass, Vengeance.”
“No...  I did no such thing.”
“Aren't you the offspring of Gen, the greatest fighter ever?”
“Maybe.” he said.  “Maybe I did, somehow, attack these two.  We train to react from muscle memory.  But, I just beat up my own brothers.”
“Yeah.  But, they shot first.”

Sot crawled through a vent tube, stuffed tightly inside, breathing erratically.  He continued to exhale until his body shrank, becoming narrow and slender in each gasp.  He turned a corner and found the passage even smaller and harder to navigate.  Noticing light ahead, Sot slithered toward the sight and sound.  He soon heard a familiar voice coming from a dimly-lit room below.

“Pain.” screeched Loof.  “Pain is what I give to you, my un-friend.”
“Quiet, please.” said 238, tapping Loof on the nose.

Sot pried the vent tube with long fingers, then smashed down with a sturdy fist.  It didn't budge.  The two below heard a noise and shifted between a couple of worn-out machines.

“I could use a hand here.” said Sot.
“How do we know it's really you?” asked Loof.
“Because, I'm your Mother.”
“Good enough.”  Loof became airborne when 238 tossed it toward the ceiling.  Wing-flaps sailed it directly for the vent grid, where it grabbed and pulled the lever, releasing the cover.  “Harder to get out than it is to get into.”

Sot didn't speak, only slithered an elongated body from the tube and floated across the room on wide skin-flaps, slowing his descent.  He noticed a shadow in the corner whilst mid-air and thought it strange.  Taking in deep breaths, Sot enlarged his chest and musculature by sucking huge gulps of air.  He quietly turned attention to the others, still rising in height and filling out arms, legs and chest.

“How did your people get such crazy skills?” asked 238.
Loof dug claws along the wall running side-ways and jumped, re-perching on 238's shoulder.  “We're genetically modified.” it whispered in a quiet, screeching voice into an anxious ear.
“That's great.  But...  Why?”
“In order for us to kill Master Gen.” whispered Loof.