The wilds of Caeldonia were not for the faint of heart, or the lacking of skill. That had been made very clear. The Rippling Walls that once proudly surrounded the city had been made to keep the dangers of the wild out, and even then it was a challenge. The wildlife was openly hostile towards anything that tried to intrude upon the territory, and many had died trying to stake out new land for the city, if the broken weapons littering the ground were any indication.
There was no stopping him, however. He had survived the Calamity, and now he was going to take back the shards from the wilds, so he could set everything right again. He had collected the cores of the city in record time, assembling them in the Monument. He knew where all of them were, and he had been a driving force behind it's creation, along with most other inventions the Mancers , the greatest minds of Caeldonia, came up with, in addition to singlehandedly leading every charge in the Caeldonian-Ura war. He had been a part of the city's elite Calvary unit, the Triggers, in addition to his work as a Mason, assembling the great Rippling Walls. He held the record of the longest tour of duty in the city's history, despite his dark and tragic past.
Fabian Francisco de Smytheford was his name, and he was determined to be the hero of the Bastion, like he was born to be. His trusty clockwork rifle on his back, his pistols at his hips, and his hammer and machete in his hands, he smashed and slashed his way through the floating mass of wilderness like it was nothing. The pincushions couldn't manage to hit him with his amazing speed, and wallflowers had no defense he couldn't break. He was almost at the final shard, his hands outstretched to take it, when a rock hit him in the back of the head. He turned to face the beast he must have missed in his rampage, only to see…a survivor? No, not a survivor…The man was dressed too differently. The man in question had what could only be described as medium length brown hair, obviously not very well kept, what appeared to be a gray button-up shirt, and long gray jacket covering up the khaki pants that were stained with mud and grime from the muck that seemed to cover the ground of the Wild. The rock had a bright blue note card tied to it, so he stopped to read…
By the order of the Anti-Cliché and Mary Sue Elimination Society, I'm placing you under arrest for destruction of a perfectly good fandom.
"An agent of the Society, eh? I've been looking for a way to make an impression upon them! My name is Fabian Francisco de Smytheford, and I will strike you down where you stand! Tell me your name, so I may properly inform your next of kin of your demise!"
The man reached about for a second, before finding another rock. He rifled through his coat, pulling out four card binders, before putting three of them back. After he found the card he was looking for, he pulled out a small ball of twine, biting a small piece off. He tied the card to the rock with the twine, hefting it a few times to test it. Fabian watched him intently the entire time, curious as to what the agent was doing. After testing it once more, the man threw the rock at Fabian. Fabian, in proper Stu fashion, stopped the rock just before it hit him. He ripped the card off, reading intently.
My name is John. You ruined a favorite universe of mine. This is a distraction.
"Wha? What is this supposed to mean- YOU KNAVE!" Fabian could do naught but shout as John retreated into the wilds, back into hiding. "Rest assured, Agent! There is no escape from Fabian Francisco de Smythe for-AH!" Fabian recoiled as he was hit in the face by yet another rock.
SHUT UP.
The Stu emptied his pistols into the tree the rock was thrown from, but the agent was already long gone.
"Fine then, Agent. We will have a game of cat and mouse... But rest assured, I will emerge victorious, or my name is not Fabian Francisco de Smythe!"
John was already on the run, the ground forming up below him with every step. He knew, even if he was carrying a weapon, he couldn't beat a stu in straight combat. No, he only had one real chance, and that was to out think him. Based on the mission reports he had read before he had come out here, Sues and Stus were powerful and perfect in every way except for a sheer lack of intelligence. I guess, when you're perfect, you don't really have ta' think much. He mused, ceasing his sprint in the middle of a tight clump of bushes. Stinkweed, pincushions… I think I can work with this.
As his plotting and planning began, his phone kicked on, seemingly cycling through tracks on it's own. It finally settled on one he had acquired recently.
Now Playing: Beethoven Symphony No. 5 in C minor Fate 3rd Movement
Fabian ran through the clearing, using his flawless tracking skills he had acquired during his term with the Brushers, of which he had been a captain. He followed the crushed grass and footprints into a clearing, seemingly empty.
"Where are you, John the Agent? I know you're in here somewhere!"
He took another step, only to look down too late to notice the string of twine, pulled taut across the obvious path. He recoiled quickly, only to get hit in the face by a dense clump of stinkweed.
"Argh-The smell! It's in my eyes!"
Fabian briefly stumbled backwards, before springing forward once more.
"Do you really think such a pathetic trap will stop me, Agent? There is nothing that can hold back the unrestrained fury of Fabian Francisco de Smythe!" He continued forward, abit more cautiously. He kept his eyes on the road in front of him, pushing his hammer along in front of him. Anyone trained in trap avoidance could tell you that using something to probe the ground only works if said object is light enough to avoid triggering the trap itself, a lesson that the Stu learned the hard way by triggering another barrage of stinkweed to the face. Once again, the Stu recoiled, this time straight over the edge of the path, screaming as he fell into the abyss… before landing face first on the path once more. You see, there was a little bit of the Bastion's power in the city's crest, the shining silver gear that he wore around his neck. Even now, the Bastion was protecting everyone left as best it could. If they fell, the Bastion would yank them right back above the path, letting them fall back into safety. It still hurt, but it hurt a lot less then falling all the way back down.
"Argh… I am growing tired of these games, Agent! If you will not come out and face me, I'll force you out myself!" Fabian growled, pulling out a fine-tuned Fire Bellows. He didn't hesitate as he started lighting the foliage on fire, the flame leaping from the bellows as he pumped them. The fire seemed to dance from tree to tree, until soon, the entire clearing was burning. The smoke spiraled into the air, choking the Peckers trying to escape the inferno the stu had started so carelessly. What felt like seconds later, the clearing, once vibrant and teeming with life, was now empty, charred, and black. Fabian turned in place, his eyes searching for his target, finding it standing on the other side of the field, staring at the sun, coat flowing in the wind. Fabian grinned. The agent was surely giving up, having seen the pure destructive potential he possessed! "Goodbye, Age-UWAH!"
The coat he had lunged at so quickly with his hammer was, once again, a trap. This time, it was just a coat on a stick that was stood straight up, the oldest trick in the trappers book. The Stu lept at it, and found that the weight of his own hammer swing was now dragging him over the edge once again. After he picked himself up off the floor, he finally found his opponent… kicking a ball of twine into the air repeatedly. "Why… MUST YOU… MAKE OUR EPIC CONFLICT… A GAME!"
His roar seemingly startled the agent, causing him to jump and the ball of twine to fall. The agent whipped out another card, obviously annoyed.
I had almost beaten my personal record, you ass.
The Stu just twitched, and charged, yelling something incomprehensible but definitely loud.
John just stepped out of the way… again. The Stu tumbled over the edge… again. After he peeled his body off of the ground once more, he just stopped, eying the agent warily.
"I'm not attacking you again. Do you think I'm some kind of fool? No, I know that if I don't move, you can't get me with any traps, and you'll have to fight me on my terms, where I am certain of victory!"
The agent just smiled, then opened his mouth.
"Do you really think that can stop me, Fabian? No, it really can't."
Fabian recoiled. Something seemed fundamentally wrong with this man talking.
"No, I think I'll just say you died. Nobody will question me, after all. As for you…"
Fabian recoiled in horror as the agent split in two, then four, then six, then eight, then sixteen, and so on and so forth. The fact that there was more than one agent wasn't the scary part, but the fact that each of the copies had no eyes and was covered in rotting flesh, arms outstretched and reaching towards him, slowly coming towards him on all sides… "No, no, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
John walked up to the collapsed Stu, tapping him with the heel of his shoe. The Stu grunted gently, murmuring something about zombie agents. Lord only knew what was going on in his head.
John had been hiding further down the path, laughing to himself as each of his traps succeeded at their overall purpose. The rigged catapults had succeeded at annoying the Stu to the point of burning the entire place down, which in turn angered the Lungblossom that was in the brush. Lungblossoms were dangerous things, like most everything else out here, with petals that looked like a giant gaping maw and the ability to throw it's seeds at anyone that walked too close. The Lungblossom did what they always do, releasing a powerful hallucinogen that had dropped the Stu in just under the minute. John had just waited for the hallucinogenic cloud to disperse before he walked back over to the Stu. He made sure he was good and out before he walked over, dragging the Stu's unconscious body away from the Lungblossom before it got it in it's mind that he was a snack. Slapping the prohibitor on his wrist, he sent a quick message back to the Library before sending the both of them on the trip home.
John sat around, staring at the paperwork on his desk. He really should get working on it… but… he was awfully tired…
One eight hour nap later, John woke up… outside his room. There was a moment of confusion before he saw the giant mounds of paperwork sliding out of his room, and then that moment became a full on symphony of confusion.
"You have to finish the paperwork quick, or else it breeds, dude."
John looked up at the speaker, a boy in his mid-teens, wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans. He grabbed a sheet of paper, scribbling down his response.
Yeah, I see that now.
"So, new guy? There's usually a note or something, but I guess I didn't see it. My name is Ben, and yours is…?"
John took the paper back from Ben, writing underneath his previous scribbles.
John. Looking forward to working with you.
Ben laughed, a jolly sound if John had ever heard one. He couldn't help but smile, although he was pretty damn annoyed with the rude awakening. The boy's good mood was infectious.
"So, what's with the notes? Shy, or something?"
Pfffft. Do I look like the shy type? I'm mute, unfortunately. It's one of those things you learn to live with, you know?
Ben's smile seemed to falter for a half second, before it came back. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Anyways, I'll be seeing you around the Library, I'm sure. Good luck and all with the paperwork, I'm gonna go…not help you.
Yeah-wait
By the time John had gotten it in his mind to look up, Ben was already gone.
Daaaaaaamn. He runs faster than me when I'm trying to get out of a bad date. That's gotta be a land speed record or something.
He stopped and looked back at the gigantic mound of paperwork, now slowly pushing it's way out of his room.
I'll work on this paperwork…later. Maybe after it blocks the hallway. I wonder if those bellows are still lying around?
And thus, the chronicles of that lazy bastard begin.
No comments:
Post a Comment