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originally posted in:The New Dojo
10/30/2016 1:36:16 AM
298
[b][u]The Wanderer | Dojo Gates[/u][/b]
[i]Alister...
Alister.
Alister!
ALISTER![/i]
The last thing he remembered was seeing the boy he sought to protect being smashed brutally in the back of the head by a sword's pommel.
And then the world was set on fire.
...
With a gasp, the man wakes up spread-eagle outside the Dojo Gates. A heartbeat after, he rolls forward to his feet and looks around, one hand on the mechanical katana sheathe at his waist.
"ALISTER!"
The man's apparel was quite peculiar. A long black leather overcoat draped past his knees, with ceramic shoulder pauldrons and joint guards placed upon the coat. At his waist was an Oriental scabbard modified by machinery near the upper half, holding such things as a napalm barrel and a gun trigger. The two other items of note were the ornately engraved Mateba revolver and a runic gas mask - all equipment strangely reminiscent of... [i]him.[/i]
He looked around frantically, hazel eyes wild as sweat dripped down his weathered Asian skin. Long, black hair was matted wildly in a mess under a wide-brimmed hat of the same colour.
His age was indeterminate, possibly around mid-thirties to early forties. But all of his features made him an oddly similar, yet older, version of the Old Lieutenant.
But it couldn't possibly be him... Could it?
Silence. He looked at the large gates of the Dojo, easing his grip out of slight awe and fear.
"Are these the Gates of Hell?... No, no get a hold of yourself. Believe in monsters, not the fantasies of men. Find him."
He finally let go of his sheathed blade's handle. His coat sleeves were rolled up, revealing lean arms riddled with slashes and bullet holes.
The smell of brimstone wafted through the air.
Blue fire sprang from each wound, searing each laceration and bullet hole shut with a sickening smell. The man rolled down his sleeves as he looked around for anyone in sight. The madness in his eyes faded to a simmering charcoal of composure, a flame hidden amidst the ashen facade of calmness.
The sickening scent stopped.
It couldn't possibly be him...
[i]Could it?[/i]
[spoiler]Open to all :)[/spoiler]
English
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"One world away... Then I must find him. At any cost." The man lost himself in thought once more. "Ah, how rude of me. I haven't even introduced myself. Lucien Farcòn at your service, Mr. Wilson."
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Dude your name is basically the same, just... more oriental-sounding. I'm callin' bullsh*t but to hell with it... [i]Something was not right, and the Courier most certainly picked up on it.[/i]
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"I'm telling the truth. I don't know of any Luis Franco. I am not him and I don't know anybody who could be him. Unless..." [i]No. You would never let him turn into a monster.[/i] "Nothing. Just the meandering of a hermit."
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[i]Paydirt. Wilson smiled beneath his mask like a dog closing in for a kill.[/i] Don't nothin' me. What's got you spooked? [i]he asked. There was no shaking him from the question now.[/i]
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"The boy. Alister. I have given him the skills and the teachings to survive this world as a blood promise to a... Close friend of mine. A victim of mine too. So I sought to show him skill to surpass and the truth." Lucien was unnerved by Wilson's change of tone. "I always taught him to never become a monster like I became. Never make the same mistakes. But if somehow he did... I promised myself that I would kill him before he turned into the same beast I am." [i]That's just a theory. It can't be true. [/i]
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[i]Was this Alister the person Phoenix had been before everything? Was this man the one who had trained him?[/i] This kid... could he manipulate fire, blue color to it? Carry a mechanical-lookin' sword like yours? Have a gas mask? [i]And now time to gather information.[/i]
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"No. The fire is mine alone - no one could carry the same strain of virus as I." Lucien pulled up his left sleeve with a breath of relief. He twisted a black ring on his right index finger, releasing three razor spikes from the accessory. He sliced open a part of his left forearm, releasing a torrent of viscera, ash and blue fire before the wound knit itself shut and seared itself close with heat. "From my world there is a virus. The mutated stem cell virus, a blight on the world that turns men to monster. To put it bluntly... I inoculated myself with a certain strain taken from an Infected worshipped by a church-cult called the Abbatial. I ate their exalted Angel and became this, then I burnt the rest of their God's corpse." A twisted smile formed on his face for a heartbeat, as if something deep indie Lucien took pleasures in the memory of devouring their God. Then that smile disappeared as the horrible memories of his own monster returned. "This strain gives my cells extra mitochondria to boost heat transference, as well as organelles that produce a substance similar to ethanol. The end result are my flames. Of course I could also mention my ash... But I'm still experimenting on that myself. So in conclusion: I would have to die for someone to gain my blood."
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What if I told you I have footage of someone with your abilities? [i]The response was rapid, and not unfounded. Wilson's HUD was more than capable of recording, and he was damn sure he had record of his final fight with Phoenix.[/i]
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He crossed his arms quizzically. "Do show me then. It these timeline theories of yours are proven true, it is quite plausible that perhaps another version of myself or my mentor stumbled upon this establishment of yours."
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[i]The armored figure pressed the release for his helmet, pulling it off. Beneath it, a man who looked to be in his thirties, his face scarred and gruff. His eyes were a dirty brown, his hair sort of slicked back, skin tanned from his escapades in the desert. [/i] Put it on. [i]He gestured to the man, holding out the helmet.[/i]
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Lucien took his hat off and accepted the helmet, putting the power armour mask on and looking keenly into the modified visor.
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[i]Wilson took a small chip from his bandolier, and slid it into a slot in the helmet. Before Lucien, the visor's feed shut down, and then rebooted. Before him, a scene in a destroyed city. The architecture, well, what remained of it, was beautifully crafted, but what stood out was the figure that was utilizing the same abilities that he had. He and Wilson were holding each other just barely at bay, the figure clearly skilled with his immolation abilities.[/i]
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"Impossible... is that me?" he mutters before observing the battle more. The ruins in the background looked like the ones found on Olympus Island, but the entire area looked like Old-Earth: a fantasy to anyone born on Post-Scorch Mars. He continued to watch the battle as the figure bearing his face conjured up more blue flames, forming it into ashen weapons eerily similar to his own technique. "Mr. Wilson, can you pause and enhance that man's face?"
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I'm afraid I can't, unless you got yourself a fancy computer... [i]He said.[/i]
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"Damn. The Iconoclast probably would have some piece of technology that would give them that ability. A shame." He takes off the helmet and offers it back to Wilson. [i]That was most definitely me - or someone who looks very close to me. But how? How could someone have the same strain of MSCV without him dying?[/i]
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[i]The Courier took his helmet back, and slid it back on, locking it back in place and popping the HUD recording out of it. Looking back to Farcón, he spoke again.[/i] That guy left me a little present, too. [i]He said, gesturing to the Phoenix that had been burnt into the metal of his chestplate.[/i]
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"A brand? Hmm, not that unlike my own I suppose -" Lucien turns around and bends his neck over to show a brand burnt into the back of his flesh: some kind of winged, multiple-headed beast emerging from an inferno. "Much more pure than a mark such as this. Do you have any photographs of him? Only then could I truly get a good look at his face."
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Photographs? Nothing unless I can get into some old files belonging to a company I worked for back in the day. [i]he answered.[/i]
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"They would be of much use to me. First I need to find the boy, then I need to discover this doppelgänger of mine..." He mused.
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Alright. [i]he said, heading back into the Dojo.[/i] You want 'em, get your *ss over here.
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[i]Well, this was interesting. This newcomer had a familiar air around him, judging from the blue phoenix implanted on his armour. And the blue flames? Well, that added to the fact that it might be truly a old friend of the dojo. Xavier had heard about this guy when listening in to a few conversations, and now he can see that the legend himself is real... If it isn't fake.[/i] [i]Xavier walked up to the dojo gates, bringing out his Psionic Amp. Left hand with the amp, right hand open, he started charging up, Violet tendrils travelling across his torso and arms. The Psionics continued to pump more faster, until he released the whole lot which created a huge shockwave.[/i] [i]The gates flung open, revealing the outline of the man that released the energy. The gates were extremely bright, due to the entrance he was trying to make.[/i]
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[spoiler]This guy doesn't have a blue Phoenix implanted on his armour lol[/spoiler] Upon seeing the violet energy coursing around the gate of the Dojo, the man took upon a stance mixed between traditional swordsmanship and a desperado's quickdraw; knees spaced out in fencing position whilst his hands hovered above his armaments like some kind of frontiersman. [i]Unknown energy - Iconoclast technology? Couldn't be Abbatial or the virus. Too... Raw. Unless they harvested some mutation strain that cam produce such energy.[/i] The man's thoughts fired through his head like a machine gun's barrage as he analyzed the newcomer and his extravagant entrance. "Who are you and where am I?!" the man shouted, not moving from his stance.
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Edited by Tamedfrog: 10/30/2016 4:21:14 AM[spoiler]Oh.[/spoiler] [i]The man that produced the entrance dispersed the bright purple energy, revealing his true appearance. He was wearing a black, yellow and purple jacket, a black shirt worn underneath. He had dark blue cargo jeans that held a hefty amount of ammo, along with his pistol in the holster. He could not see his face due to being far away, but he was wearing glasses. Blue and black ODST style armour plating was worn over them.[/i] [i]There was a few things visible: The two rifles that were slung across his back, in a criss-cross style. One seemed to be magnetically powered, while the other had a fancy glowing purple and black camo. The gun did seem to shoot things other than bullets, judging from some of the black crystals protruding out from it. On his other holster other than his pistol, it seemed to be a sword of sorts.[/i] [i]Putting away his Amp, he greeted the possibly other version of the legend.[/i] "Hi there. My name is Xavier Carter, and you're at The Dojo. Which is on a planet called Tatakai."
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"Tatakai? Impossible. I - we - have been stranded on the surface of Mars for centuries. Such is the history of our people. You mean to tell me I'm on another planet?" The man considers it for a moment, actually thinking that it could be possible. But then he shakes his head, signifying his thoughts on the matter. "I care not of whatever dream this is. Your technology, those guns and that energy of yours - did the Iconoclast send you? I wish no further bloodshed, but if you do not give the boy back, [i]unharmed..."[/i] His words trailed off into a deadly implication. The wild look of a cornered animal flared in the man's hazel eyes as he observed every conceivable part of Xavier and his equipment.
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[i]He looked at him for a second before chuckling.[/i] "Listen... I'm not with whoever those Icono-whatever guys are, just a simple guy like you. And I have nooooo idea what you are blabbering on about, but it seems interesting. What was that about a boy?" [i]His guns had nothing more special, he had already inspected them. But his pistol did seem to have a few modifications, and a few pipes sticking out of it. Plus, the blade had Arc charges on them.[/i]
