Description: Having been sent to face Goro by Igniz, Nameless expired in the wake of the Prince of Shokan. After being torn apart, it was expected that would be the last of the NESTS clone. But Igniz has his ways of ensuring his favored servants return...
The last thing that Nameless would remember is the desperate, adrenaline-fueled rush. Lacking an arm. Begging Munin. Then facing the tyrannical might of Goro, descending upon him like a sadistic child intent on plucking the legs from an insect.
Long, long darkness. Peculiar moments of partial consciousness, only able to think words and brush memories, before being lost in the abyss.
Before a sense of sudden drowning, lungs filling with liquid. Nameless would become conscious within a slender glass tube of greenish liquid, overlooking a small specialized laboratory. The life support systems have been disengaged, as has his rebreather, and the shock of consciousness -- of a new birth -- is likely more than a little disorienting.
The white-jacketed scientist standing just outside scribbles on his clipboard, before pressing a button beside the vat. In a violent motion the liquid is suctioned out, and gravity would yank a number of connecting tubes would painfully rip free as Nameless was allowed down to the open grill shunting away the fluids.
"Test Case #9999... Zhe Prime..." he mulls. An unwanted pang of familiarity might well up then, a ghost of countless, fragmented memories of agony, pain, needles, sterile walls...
"Excellent. As usual, you impress. It seems the implanted device functioned in your cerebral cortex longer than forecasted." Adjusting glasses, the balding blonde man well into sixty leans forward, hunched heavily.
"How do you feel? Your memories? Your body? Is everything in order? If not, we can try again..."
It hurts.
It is cold.
The red blinking light.
I am numb.
It is cold.
And the pain returns.
Life jolts through the form of the teenager, the boy instinctively thrashing about. It was normal to cry, after your birth. The shock was enough to justify it. But what sobs that come go through the rebreather, only accelerating the sense of drowning. The liquid was too heavy, too choking.
But the alternative was no better.
Dropped from the tube, the boy tumbles out unceramoniously, the tubing ripping from his skin, ripping from his body. Blood does not stream from him, but a black, viscous fluid, spreading through the green liquid. As it drains through, the boy collapses, naked and shuddering. He coughs violently, vomitting up the fluid, forcing it out of his lungs as he struggles for air.
Slowly, he rises.
His eyes dart around. He is breathing wildly, the boy's body twitching and spasming. The teenager's gaze eventually steadies on the scientist in front of him. The chemicals running through his body, his mind, were still instable. He was struggling to flush out the impurities, the excess. Already, his left hand was beginning to hissing, the skin of it rising and falling. Pain was returning again, white hot pain that was seared again and again into his mind. But looking into the eyes of the older man, he speaks, the first clear thought to erupt from his mind.
"Where is she?"
The scientist presses another button, and the glass pod hisses open. There's no fear within him. The same bearing and attitude of a man looking down into a small cage of lab mice. A couple men wearing silver and white armor slip forward, subjugation rods slung over shoulders. It is not uncommon for some clones to break down mentally and lash out, after all. But right now, body coordination and strength is weak as a kitten.
"...She?" the scientist asks, pausing as his pen lifts from his clipboard. Brows are lifted in open curiosity. "Do you mean the shadow girl who accompanied you? Yes, she survived."
Nameless would be hooked under either arm unless extremely resistant, in which case they'd try a few shocking jabs with those long metal weapons. A powerful hose of water used to spray the naked clone head to toe, right in the middle of the metal-floored room slightly sloped towards a drain. Treated like one might cattle. After, a rough toweling, and his usual attire would be set down before him on a metal tray, folded up.
Yet the glove is not present...
The shadow girl?
Yes. The shadow girl. As he is hooked into each arm, he remembers her. The glove. He gave the glove to her. The fight flashes in his mind, each image of the battle surging in tandem with the electrical shocks of the rod. Staggering forward, he stumbles, each moment replaying. The energy. The titan. The pain. The unbearable pain. And then, back to the darkness. Shivering, the water is frigid, washing over his form.
Sparks of clarities burst in his mind's eye.
He was becoming clear now. Being toweled off like a baby, he gradually gets dressed. The pants, the shirt. He remembers. He remembers who is he. He remembers the training. He remembers the power. He remembers his mission. He remembers the island. And he remembers... it is blurry. But he remembers it all. The power. The fire. The-
"My glove."
As he fits his leather glove on, he looks for the other one. The quicksilver glove. The power limiter. Groping around, he casts a glance to his exposed hand. His hand continues to pulse, hot welts searing his hand, the fire trying to break free. He grabs his wrist, taking a pained breath in. Looking desperately to his escorts, a stoic facade across his face, he asks calmly, coldly, and curtly.
"Where is my glove?"
"Ah. That. Lord Igniz currently has it in his possession." the scientist offers, dismissively. The discomfort and burn of unstable chi likely continues to simmer, like his whole body was a giant burn aggravated by the open air. A familiar discomfort, that he likely thought long gone once he received the soothing silver-white glove...
"And he will be seeing you shortly. I recommend you do not appear weak." Glancing over to the two men standing nearby, "Take him to Lord Igniz. I've other projects to attend to." With that, the old man strides off, busy and eager to dip his fingers into the next twisted nightmare of NESTS' constant hell.
Nameless is given enough time to get himself looking decent, strength returning in a few minutes even if the pain does not abate. The elevators are taken, rising through the complex to the main floor. And the grandiose lift, one that seems always for show, is unlocked. The first and only time that the experiment had taken it before was to visit Igniz before his mission with Goro...
The guards do not follow when Nameless enters, and the lift thrums up through the heart of NESTS' lair, offering beautiful views of the segmented levels and layers as soft lights flicker by. Once it reaches the top, a gentle ding heralds the parting doors.
The grand throne room of Igniz himself is seen then, ornate columns twisting up to an arched ceiling, a metal that seems almost like marbled stone. And within an intricately molded and engraved chair sits the silver-haired messiah and aspiring God himself.
Within his hand is Isolde. He's looking her over, turning the glove a few times and feeling the fabric. Holding it up to the light, it shimmers like refracting ice before him. "A beautiful thing." he offers, voice deep but somehow soft. No others are present. "You were wise to save this. It is not something that can be replaced. How do you feel?"
Unlike the scientist... no, unlike any other person Nameless has ever spoken to beyond Isolde herself, there's a genuine warmth and curiosity. A steady thrum seems to be leaving Igniz, as if the room's air has a weight that must be slightly pushed through, a thrum that tingles through one's body like a growing static charge.
Massive tubes and electronics are tastefully integrated into the throne, and currently locked within Igniz' own battlesuit, integrating his entire body into the heart of the NESTS facility.
The master had the glove.
This was another trial, he thinks to himself, as he looks to the scientist. The skin was turning pink now, cooking from the inside. Every hot jab of pain consumed his instincts, trying to drive him to lash out. Some of his brothers and sisters lashed out. They were put down like dogs. Some of them couldn't control the fire. They were either consumed by the flame, or he consumed them. The reality was none of them could control the fire, none of his brothers, none of his sisters. With the exception K9999. But he had earned that right, in exchange for controlling himself. Tightening his right hand in a fist, he takes a deep breath in.
He could control himself.
Blinking hard once, he inhales, brining composure to himself. The scientist did not need to care. It was not needed. Sweeping his cloak, he allows the guards to escort him. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. And focus. Focus on her. Not the shadow girl. But the dream. The strange girl. Her freedom.
Her chance at rebirth.
Stepping into the elevator, he hold himself at ease. Legs spread, right hand behind his back. He holds up his left hand, inspecting the damage so far. His face was stoic, expressionless. But not even that resolve can help him ignore the spreading pain. Pink had turned to red. Bright streaks of energy and flame were now running along his veins. The pain was spreading. The smell of cooked flesh was building around him. He clenches that hand, digging his fingertips deep through the roasting flesh. It was clear how he would get the glove back.
He had to earn it.
He enters the throne room in silent reverence. This was a temple of worship. Despite his desire, despite his pain, his eyes cast first upon the god-king, Igniz. His master and lord. Briefly glancing at the gauntlet of ice, he is ashamed of his infidelity. Hastily, he throws himself down into a kneel, bowing his head low as he sweeps his fuming hand across his knee. He could hide the pain inside. That was something that he was trained in. Weakness was a plague that afflicted the world, a diease that infested all of humanity. He was to be one of the chosen few to cure it. To purge it of its flaws. His god asks him a question. He cannot lie. Nor can he show the slowly spreading weakness.
"Alive, my lord."
"Yes. Alive. Still, and again. ...Life must seem cruel here. But is it? Look at the world. Entire species bloom to life and then vanish. The strong devour the weak. The feeble are exterminated by a cruel, unjust, uncaring planet. But such is all for the greater good, my child. It is for what you hold now. Survival. And evolution. One must always strive for both, at any cost... and any sacrifice."
Igniz stands up then, and the glove suddenly is encapsulated in an orb of soft cerulean chi, levitating. Idly flying in a billow of unseen chi, Igniz disconnects from the numerous attachments one by one, softly hissing and billowing out steam and flashes of bright energy before approaching Nameless.
The pressure grows as he nears, seeming to trap that chi within, so desperate to escape. A hive of bees, now angered and submerged in water. With nowhere to go, they would sting.
"I have merely accelerated things. In a way my father, grand and proper though his vision was, did not understand. Each of you is a great seed of potential. A species. A chance. But it takes thousands of candles burning out, to find those that can survive. There is no other way. It is proper and just. It is allowing genetics to work it's natural course. Your pain is the pain of life, burning deep inside. The pain of every living thing, that has struggled and endured. You, my dear martyr... are precious to me. From Krizalid, to K', to Kula... and now, you kneel. You are the latest in this line. And my greatest success. Do you know what it is? What aspect I only now realize was lost, in the rapidity of evolution...?"
It hurt.
Keeping his head down, the boy listens, gritting his teeth behind his closed lips. He nearly had the pain buried away. But as his master rises, the weight of the pain grows. Containing the energy was not so simple. The experiments proved that; the evidence being the imploded remains of Nameless's brothers and sisters. As the presence of the god-king closes in, Nameless struggles against the sheer force. The skin on his arm was blistering now, blackened sores spreading across his arm.
And he raises his head.
"I do not understand, my lord." Was the response from the teenager. "I am just a humble servant. I only do what all my brothers and sisters would do, if they were in my same place. I am your pawn, my lord. A mere tool in enlightening the world to the truth, in saving this planet from itself."
"How can a mere pawn like myself be your greatest success?"
"Do not lie to me." Igniz states this in a strange, dark voice. His eyes slit, looking down with the tilt of a head. As if considering whether the creature before him was worthy of being a smear or not.
"If you were a mere doll, you would not be here. You would not be alive. Strength of will, determination, and a desire to live. You possess all three. You cannot hide this from me. And you should not. There is no greater insult than false praise..."
A few long, dangerous seconds pass. "But." He reaches out, and places a hand atop Nameless' head. In a heartbeat, the burning well within is gone. His chi is stabilized, by a warm, thrumming pulse. "What was missing... is love. I had forgotten that you, my children, are not rats in a cage. But humans. Living beings. It took K' escaping to understand this. It is why he fascinated me. And then I heard of you. "
"...You were not meant to survive." This is said without hesitation or apology. "It is why you have no name. You were of a batch meant to lead us in the proper direction. But you did. A factor was introduced we did not expect. You know what that is, do you not?"
"Love. Family. The bond between souls. ...That is what you have. Is it not?" The glove floats over, hovering beside Igniz. "I was told there was a girl. From an identical project. And when she saw a certain boy, both her health, mind, and powers increased. And that boy as well... surpassed all limits. And defied the face of science. Proving the human heart, and the human will, can instigate leaps in evolution."
The hand atop Nameless' head continues to thrum in that stabilizing chi. "She died." he says softly. "She was already dying when she met you. But she lived long, and proved even a failed species can flare bright and beautiful with the proper catalyst. And that love lives on within this."
He reaches up to take the glove, finally releasing Nameless. The pain would return almost immediately. "I bound our souls as one, and your burden was lifted. Such is proof that this glove does the same." A truth? A lie? Careful, manipulative words paint the picture Igniz desires. "All beings have a soul. That soul is the will to survive. Her dying wish was to be with you. And we granted it. So that your evolution, your journey, would continue."
Looking Isolde over, Igniz then glances down to Nameless. "You surpassed my expectations. The data I acquired from forcing that being to attack you with all his might gave an invaluable insight. Both into my own personal curiosities, and into the volatile nature the world is currently in. For that, I will give you the gift I promised. Choose."
He holds up his left hand. "I will repair the rift in your soul, and grant you a name." He then holds up the glove. "Or I will bring her back to you. And you must overcome this burden yourself."
"Choose, my child. You can only have one."
Nameless was wrong.
The teenager's looks back down to the ground, averting his eyes in shame. As his lord describes to him, explains to to him, just how special he was to Igniz. How precious he was. The love that was in his heart was not weakness. It was strength. It was what Igniz wanted in him, to share with his brothers, his sisters, and even the world. Even share with K Prime. Nameless tightens his left hand, in anger at his fallen brother. His skin was no longer boiling, no longer burning. The energy was contained, a blessing from his lord and master. For a moment, there was peace. He steadily looks back up, not at his master now.
His gaze was transfixed on the glove.
His lord and savior tells him the story he had heard before. Long ago, when he cornered that escaping scientist. When he pleaded for his life. When he told him about Isolde. The truth behind it. The teenager did not know for certain if it was true. But he had hope. He always had hope for it. And Igniz was confirming his faith. She was real. She was his. And she could be saved. But Nameless was not a blind follower.
He was an hero.
Gazing back up to his lord and master, the words he spoke flow within. She wanted to be with him forever. And Nameless wanted to be with her forever. The mysterious girl, the dream girl. This was what love was; unconditional loyalty, a union of souls into one. He loved Igniz. And he loved Isolde. He wanted her to be brought to life. But there was a detail that Nameless could see, silently. A life for a life. To repair the rift in his soul, or to be one with his love again.
There was no promise of a resurrection of his loved one.
"I deserve no name," he begins, lowering his eyes again. He saw the choices before him. And he could only choose one, with a heavy heart. Her time for a second life had not come yet. "Until my service to NESTS is complete; until the world is truly enlightened, and humanity is brought to the golden age it deserves. I will not betray my family. I will not abandon my family." And with that, he holds up his blackened hand, rolls of red flame bursting in small plumes erractically.
"I will not betray her."
"I will not abandon her."
For long moments, Igniz looks down. A sense of being stripped naked. How many countless analysis has been done of Nameless in this moment? The most absolute of vetting, the pinnacle of an experiment that the reclusive herald of NESTS itself is taking a rare hand in. But at length, there's the slightest trace of a smile. "You speak truth." he says, proudly.
"Unlike your brother, your confidence and drive will not come from betrayal. Unlike Kula, you will not struggle to find your humanity and soul within the sterile environment of proper scientific method. You have their strengths, and lack their weakness. Indeed..."
"A success."
Footsteps are heard from behind. At first there might be a strong flash of happiness; a silver-haired girl in a black bodysuit is being escorted by Zero himself. The stoic man delivers her with abject neutrality, before whirling away in a flick of hidden blades to stride off, having no apparent interest in what takes place. A lingering gaze is given to him, before Igniz approaches the Kula.
Although she stands there in a loose combative stance, breath coming regular, her eyes are dead. There is no soul there. A doll. A perfect copy of the powers, but whatever breath of life was within Kula has, like so many others, not been transferred. It is not Isolde.
"Behold, my son. What I grant you here... no other place in this world can. Your loyalty, and your desire, can only be rewarded here... at your home."
With that, he takes the Kula doll's hand, drawing it up. Before placing Isolde's glove upon her. Once drawn snug, the glove is held in both hands. The room suddenly shudders, as power drops with an audible hum; streams of chi and energy swirl through the room, gathering in Igniz's battle suit. He begins to glow like a sun, like a God, coalescing energy suffusing the crystalline glove. More and more it darkens, before there's a great, intense flash.
The Kula doll is glowing now, as Igniz gently hovers away. Her form shifting, aging slightly. Hair sweeps longer, before as it fades... the face of that figment, the girl that Nameless had never truly known to be real or the delusions of pain and suffering, stands in the room.
Eyes blink open, and Isolde looks down at her hands with the wonder of sentience. Before turning to Nameless. The moment that her eyes meet his... that spark they shared, that brush of puppet souls, would be felt for the first time in what seemed eternity.
A success.
Nameless was a success, without the flaws of his brother and sister. K' couldn't accept himself. Kula lost her senses. But Nameless had principles. He had dreams worth living for. There was no need for a crisis of identity, when you embodied a library of ideals.
His spirit lifts, as Igniz rises.
With the doll beholden, the teenager does not rise from his kneel. He only looks. His face is expressionless, looking at the hollow doll. Nameless is used to the presence of clones. Perhaps he would have to kill her? To prove his ability to Igniz? A sudden spasm jerks across his arm, before seizing up. A rift tears across his arm, as chi rolls forth from the exposed wound. Nameless shuts his eyes in pain. And as he slowly opens them.
"Isolde-"
The name roll from his lips. Joy overtakes Nameless, he cannot hide it. Rising upright from his kneel, he turns and stares at the woman behind him. Looks into her eyes. Love. True love, overtaking where his soul would be. The white knight had his princess. And slowly, he approaches her. Arms out, he finally stumbles over his words. "Y-you're alive!" And there, he reaches to hold her hands with his own.
Both left.
And right.
Isolde looks hesitant, confused, looking to Igniz with wide eyes frightened. But all of that vanishes when they meet Nameless once more. She slips forward, still wearing the glove upon her left forearm. A tentative pause and hint of blush, before she ignores the extended hands. Pushing past it, to throw her arms around the clone in full. They had never touched before -- and the boy had never been embraced. Her grip is strong, body surprisingly cool.
"It was... so cold..." she whispers. For a few long seconds, heaven lingers strong.
But then, it falls down to Hell.
Isolde begins shivering uncontrollably. Desperately clutching at Nameless' back, ice slithers over her body, covering her slowly. "Cold..." she whispers, eyes clouded over in frost. Flesh freezes, ligaments lock. It is dangerous to be adjacent to, to be touching, but such is probably not high on Nameless' list of immediate concerns.
She becomes merely a white statue, before deep inside something cracks. And then she collapses into a pile of ice, only her gloved hand remaining hale, frozen fingers clutching at his left bicep.
Igniz has his head bowed, expression solemn and apologetic. "Such is the extent of evolution at the moment, my son." he allows, softly. "It takes a massive amount of power to revive the spark of a failed life even briefly. ...But grant me your power, and such limits will be exceeded. What it takes to return her will lessen, and how long she lasts shall improve."
"In time... with faith and dedication... I will be able to return her to you. Forever."
His arms broaden. "Don her once more. Carry her soul. NESTS is now to you what it is not for any other child. Your salvation is within these doors. Outside... is only the lonely cold."
There is one difference between Nameless and K'. Without Isolde, he is likely a shell of a being. That strength is also his greatest weakness... and his tightest shackle.
Nameless didn't want this dream to end.
But as he well knew, the desires of a clone was not worth a tinker's dam. As she rejects to hold his hands, the teenager instead gets a hug. Taking a longing breath in, he slowly embraces his loved one. "It is okay, Isolde. You never have to-"
He is interrupted by the shivering.
"No!" He exclaims, as he holds her tighter, hugging her to his body. The cold was tearing through his already damaged body, tearing through the leather and deep into the burns, intensifying the pain. But he would not let go. Even as she begins to quickly, horribly freeze. Even when the ice collapses. Only when she begins to melt away in the presence of his intense heat.
Is he able to let go.
J Prime crouches down, sifting his fingers through the remains of Isolde.
A single tear falls into the pool of his loved one. "Isolde... I am... I am sorry." He could feel Igniz behind him. This was not his fault. This was merely a taste of the gift. They would try and find a way to bring her back. That much he knew. But it was his duty to work with them. They couldn't bring her back forever, unless he could stay with him.
And that was the beam of hope.
Igniz's words do not grind him down, they do not beat him into obedience. They inspire the teenager. They give him hope. And in that hope, he is lifted. He looks to his arm, to the glove still holding him, still embracing him. The burning stops there, the fires quelled by the cold, b-b-by the love. He gingerly pulls it off of his bicep with his right hand. And carefully, ever so slowly, he puts his hand within.
The pain is gone.
The soldier of NESTS turns to face his master. Rolling his fingers in his glove, the fires are controlled, the power subdued. Now, he felt complete. Now, he felt whole. And his goal was even more clear than it was before. Unlike K', he could not live without another. He could not live without his family, without Isolde. He could be more tightly controlled than any other. But the greatest shackle is the one a slave willingly wears. Who loves to wear. And with his shackle in place, Nameless brings a fist to his breast, salutely his lord, his god-king. "I understand, my lord. My loyalty will be the catalyst to bring her back to life."
"What you your bidding, master."
"Yes. You understand." Igniz states, proudly. There's a sense of the man being pleased; and his aura seems to thrum with it, as if the very mood of the man saturated the surroundings. Yet he seems tired. Even drawing in the energy of the facility, reviving Isolde must have taken a significant toll. Settling back on the throne, in a serpentine whirl the myriad interlocking cables and tubes lock back into his suit. Energy seems to whirl atop him now, and he lets out a mild sigh.
"Misty has a list of names. They have turned their back on us. Shortsighted and weak of stomach. Those who do not understand sacrifice and progress. Erase them."
And then his eyes close, resting his hands upon the throne's arms. The great doors crack open enough for the alabaster woman to slip within, holding a small device which houses roughly a dozen GPS co-ordinates. The final test. Each of these men left due to moral reasons. Half of them were involved in atrocities that would chill the bone. The pleading of the man who revealed Isolde... whether his will can be shaken, or Nameless stays the course, will be determined by the time the last individual is erased.
Time will tell. Igniz may not be as patient as his father... but as long as he can see progress, and evolution proceeds, there is no need to rush...
Nameless is lead into the Room. Slick tentacles descend from the ceiling as Misty closes the door behind the clone. It is time to be 'cleansed'.
Log created on 23:00:27 08/08/2014 by Nameless, and last modified on 16:15:10 08/09/2014.