Post by Vi-Poi on Mar 13, 2017 4:15:01 GMT
He beat his fist against the glass. It would not budge. Gears cranked loudly near his ears. The whole chamber rumbled, thick flakes of dust falling like snow. The machine was trying desperately to free him, he could tell. They’d developed a way to speak, kind of, not with actual words, but with ideas. He could feel its fluttering-fast thoughts turn frantic through the jelly that surrounded him. Whatever the stuff was, it’d been keeping him alive ever since he locked himself in trying to find some kind of radio to the outside. But now it was drained. Used up. Though he hadn’t used his lungs in months, this was the first time he’d ever felt short of breath.
He’d been traveling forever in a pleasant sort of half-dream with the machine, his mind only dimly aware that he was still in the capsule while his thoughts stretched elsewhere, far out into space, journeying to worlds filled with amazing creatures and powerful magic, stuff that he thought was only for movies.
It hadn’t mattered that he’d fallen in the hole, that he couldn’t get out. These were things that no one else could see, that no one would ever see. He could worry about getting home after the next planet. After the next adventure. He’d learned about the Namekians, about the Dragon Balls. He’d even saved the Earth against shadowy aliens, fighting like he had superpowers. Hadn’t he? Or was that later on?
Time seemed to flow without regard when he was with the machine.
But now he was wide awake, and terrified. The dream was gone. He was alone, trapped in a tomb of steel. Darkness smeared his vision, and he could feel his heart thundering in his chest. One of the motors pushing against the rusted hinge of the capsule suddenly burst open with a spray of white sparks.
He continued hitting the glass as hard he could, until his muscles burned and his arm felt like it was going to fall off.
The machine was quailing with terror. More smoke erupted into the small bunker. It was destroying itself trying to save him, trying to get him out, but couldn’t.
Don’t go!
It was the first clear and sharp, plain thought he’d ever felt from the machine. His hand slapped against the glass, bristling with pins and needles. His heart burst with pain. The darkness spread over him.
Poi fell out of bed a loud thunk. He jolted awake. His heart was still thumping in his chest, but not painfully. His left arm was numb with pins and needles, just like in the dream, but he wasn’t dead or dying. He pinched himself to be sure.
What an awful nightmare.
Still, he was more than a little confused. The room he was in was completely unfamiliar. It wasn’t his bedroom. It looked like a fancy hotel. The bed he’d ungracefully absconded was a big four-poster type, with a king-sized mattress. The carpet was rich and beige, soft as feathers. Instead of the familiar posters of the New Style Ninja Tortoises and Griffin Cube X, the walls were furnished with ginormous paintings he vaguely recognized from his humanities textbook.
“Hello?” He called out, uncertain. No one answered, and he didn’t see any door. Staggering to his feet, Poi took a more careful measure of things.
His gray sweatpants were familiar enough, but he was definitely not in his small upstairs bedroom, with its angled walls and little awning window. At the right side of the bed, where his drum set was supposed to lurch, was a pair of expensive looking sofa chairs flanking an old-timey red telephone. He pinched himself again. Still not seeing a door, Poi walked to the red phone and lifted the receiver up.
Before he could figure out how to use the rotary wheel and phone his house, an authoritative woman who was definitely not his mom promptly spoke, “Strategic command. Awaiting your orders, sir.”
Poi gawked. “Uhhh…”
“Administrator Azure, sir?”
He slammed the receiver down, his confusion melting into to fear. Where the hell was he?
“Hello?!”
Part of the wall slid silently open into darkness.
A hidden door. Oh sweet Kami, I’ve been kidnapped in my sleep and now I’m trapped in some creepy billionaire’s secret bedroom.
Poi glanced around, looking for something to defend himself with, then snatched the sofa chair. It was surprisingly light in his arms. He blinked, lifting it over his head.
What came through the door wasn’t frightening at all.
A little horse zoanthrope lady shuffled in from the shadows, concern plain on her equine face. Her hair was in rollers. “Is everything okay, Mister President?” She asked him, hands clasped. “Is the proton toilet broken again?”
Poi raised his eyebrows. The chair fell, bouncing harmlessly off his head. He barely noticed.
“What do you mean, Mister President?”
The horse zoanthrope huffed, concern quickly replaced by annoyance. “Mister Premier, I am sorryyy,” She whinnied sarcastically with an eyeroll. “Now what is it you need?”
She seemed sincere, like she really knew him. Like he was the president, and they had a quirky working rapport together. Maybe she was crazy. Or in cahoots. That was it, she was in cahoots with whoever brought him here.
Poi was terrified, but he did his best to level a glare at her. “I don’t know what kind of weird prank you’re pulling, but I want to go home -right- now or I’m calling the cops.” He sidestepped quickly to the red phone, trembling hand hovering over the receiver. He hoped he could dial 1-1-9 fast enough. He wasn’t sure he could take her in a fight. Those hooves looked like they could crush a watermelon in one stomp.
She looked utterly confused. “But sir, you are home.”
“Horseshit.”
She balked.
“I live in West Cap, in the burbs. I’ve never seen this room ever. You want to explain to the police how you kidnapped a minor? Be my guest, sicko!”
The horse zoanthrope paled, and she slowly backpedaled towards the door. “I-I’m calling Dr. Slouch. Stay here for just a little bit and then I’ll get you home, I promise!”
d[ o_0 ]b
The green laser shined into Vi-Poi’s eye. “And you feel nothing strange, now?” Dr. Slouch asked, leaning forward and squinting through a scope before lifting the beam emitter from its sconce on his forehead. He’d given a full diagnostic and examination, and though he’d found that Vi-Poi's machine heart had been throbbing like it’d been pumping blood (along with the other usual weirdnesses of late, including red micromotor repair gel), he’d been unable to find any cause for what was being dubbed the episode.
“Nope. I don’t feel anything.” It’d been a day and a night since the episode, and he hadn’t had another. Dr. Slouch had been able to perform a sort of soft reboot on Vi-Poi, and he’d been back to his normal self. Poi’s ghost was still there, too, if a little quieter than usual. Vi-Poi thought he’d been shaken by what happened, too.
The good old doctor rubbed his face with a liver-spotted hand then lit up another cigarette. “Well, well,” He said, kindling the ember with a puff of smoke. “If that ever happens when you’re in a fight, we’re in trouble. King Castle sensors clocked your power level at a measly thirty points, which means your reactor was almost completely sealed.”
“What can I do?”
For once, Dr. Slouch was without an answer. He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. The reflection from the lab lighting turned his big glasses into opaque silver.
“I don’t know,” He admitted at last.
He’d been traveling forever in a pleasant sort of half-dream with the machine, his mind only dimly aware that he was still in the capsule while his thoughts stretched elsewhere, far out into space, journeying to worlds filled with amazing creatures and powerful magic, stuff that he thought was only for movies.
It hadn’t mattered that he’d fallen in the hole, that he couldn’t get out. These were things that no one else could see, that no one would ever see. He could worry about getting home after the next planet. After the next adventure. He’d learned about the Namekians, about the Dragon Balls. He’d even saved the Earth against shadowy aliens, fighting like he had superpowers. Hadn’t he? Or was that later on?
Time seemed to flow without regard when he was with the machine.
But now he was wide awake, and terrified. The dream was gone. He was alone, trapped in a tomb of steel. Darkness smeared his vision, and he could feel his heart thundering in his chest. One of the motors pushing against the rusted hinge of the capsule suddenly burst open with a spray of white sparks.
He continued hitting the glass as hard he could, until his muscles burned and his arm felt like it was going to fall off.
The machine was quailing with terror. More smoke erupted into the small bunker. It was destroying itself trying to save him, trying to get him out, but couldn’t.
Don’t go!
It was the first clear and sharp, plain thought he’d ever felt from the machine. His hand slapped against the glass, bristling with pins and needles. His heart burst with pain. The darkness spread over him.
Poi fell out of bed a loud thunk. He jolted awake. His heart was still thumping in his chest, but not painfully. His left arm was numb with pins and needles, just like in the dream, but he wasn’t dead or dying. He pinched himself to be sure.
What an awful nightmare.
Still, he was more than a little confused. The room he was in was completely unfamiliar. It wasn’t his bedroom. It looked like a fancy hotel. The bed he’d ungracefully absconded was a big four-poster type, with a king-sized mattress. The carpet was rich and beige, soft as feathers. Instead of the familiar posters of the New Style Ninja Tortoises and Griffin Cube X, the walls were furnished with ginormous paintings he vaguely recognized from his humanities textbook.
“Hello?” He called out, uncertain. No one answered, and he didn’t see any door. Staggering to his feet, Poi took a more careful measure of things.
His gray sweatpants were familiar enough, but he was definitely not in his small upstairs bedroom, with its angled walls and little awning window. At the right side of the bed, where his drum set was supposed to lurch, was a pair of expensive looking sofa chairs flanking an old-timey red telephone. He pinched himself again. Still not seeing a door, Poi walked to the red phone and lifted the receiver up.
Before he could figure out how to use the rotary wheel and phone his house, an authoritative woman who was definitely not his mom promptly spoke, “Strategic command. Awaiting your orders, sir.”
Poi gawked. “Uhhh…”
“Administrator Azure, sir?”
He slammed the receiver down, his confusion melting into to fear. Where the hell was he?
“Hello?!”
Part of the wall slid silently open into darkness.
A hidden door. Oh sweet Kami, I’ve been kidnapped in my sleep and now I’m trapped in some creepy billionaire’s secret bedroom.
Poi glanced around, looking for something to defend himself with, then snatched the sofa chair. It was surprisingly light in his arms. He blinked, lifting it over his head.
What came through the door wasn’t frightening at all.
A little horse zoanthrope lady shuffled in from the shadows, concern plain on her equine face. Her hair was in rollers. “Is everything okay, Mister President?” She asked him, hands clasped. “Is the proton toilet broken again?”
Poi raised his eyebrows. The chair fell, bouncing harmlessly off his head. He barely noticed.
“What do you mean, Mister President?”
The horse zoanthrope huffed, concern quickly replaced by annoyance. “Mister Premier, I am sorryyy,” She whinnied sarcastically with an eyeroll. “Now what is it you need?”
She seemed sincere, like she really knew him. Like he was the president, and they had a quirky working rapport together. Maybe she was crazy. Or in cahoots. That was it, she was in cahoots with whoever brought him here.
Poi was terrified, but he did his best to level a glare at her. “I don’t know what kind of weird prank you’re pulling, but I want to go home -right- now or I’m calling the cops.” He sidestepped quickly to the red phone, trembling hand hovering over the receiver. He hoped he could dial 1-1-9 fast enough. He wasn’t sure he could take her in a fight. Those hooves looked like they could crush a watermelon in one stomp.
She looked utterly confused. “But sir, you are home.”
“Horseshit.”
She balked.
“I live in West Cap, in the burbs. I’ve never seen this room ever. You want to explain to the police how you kidnapped a minor? Be my guest, sicko!”
The horse zoanthrope paled, and she slowly backpedaled towards the door. “I-I’m calling Dr. Slouch. Stay here for just a little bit and then I’ll get you home, I promise!”
d[ o_0 ]b
The green laser shined into Vi-Poi’s eye. “And you feel nothing strange, now?” Dr. Slouch asked, leaning forward and squinting through a scope before lifting the beam emitter from its sconce on his forehead. He’d given a full diagnostic and examination, and though he’d found that Vi-Poi's machine heart had been throbbing like it’d been pumping blood (along with the other usual weirdnesses of late, including red micromotor repair gel), he’d been unable to find any cause for what was being dubbed the episode.
“Nope. I don’t feel anything.” It’d been a day and a night since the episode, and he hadn’t had another. Dr. Slouch had been able to perform a sort of soft reboot on Vi-Poi, and he’d been back to his normal self. Poi’s ghost was still there, too, if a little quieter than usual. Vi-Poi thought he’d been shaken by what happened, too.
The good old doctor rubbed his face with a liver-spotted hand then lit up another cigarette. “Well, well,” He said, kindling the ember with a puff of smoke. “If that ever happens when you’re in a fight, we’re in trouble. King Castle sensors clocked your power level at a measly thirty points, which means your reactor was almost completely sealed.”
“What can I do?”
For once, Dr. Slouch was without an answer. He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. The reflection from the lab lighting turned his big glasses into opaque silver.
“I don’t know,” He admitted at last.