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originally posted in:The New Dojo
10/30/2016 4:14:51 AM
1
[i]Armour, possibly Old-Earth. Iconoclast? Seems to rugged, too bulky for their design. A prototype perhaps? And those firearms. Only something an mercenary can get while being funded by the Icos. [/i]
The man quickly steeled over the newcomer's apparel, gauging every piece of equipment he saw and analyzing the potential within nanoseconds in his mind. His time with the Tribals did not teach him of Old-Earth weaponry, but Aloysius provided ample documents on them. He pieced together the rest.
"Are you with the Iconoclast? That armour is something only you can get if you're either funded by them... Or if you raid them. And if you perform the latter, you would've been as infamous as me amongst their hit radar."
He paused, thinking about how the armoured man addressed him.
"Alternate... Timeline?"
The Old-Earth documents did theorize about something of the sort, but he did not believe the theories of a dead world.
English
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Iconowhatthef*ck? Yep. Different timeline. I'm not even gonna f*ckin' try this again. I'm not with your Iconof*ckboys, I'm not here to capture you, or take anything from you. If I'm not totally f*cked up, you are a version of someone I knew a while ago. Real bad*ss of a man.
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Despite his unorthodox manners, the man seemed truthful enough. However that didn't stop the stranger from keeping his hand hovering over his revolver. Though it didn't look like it, it was based upon the Old-Earth Taurus Raging Judge model. And it was loaded with some mean ammunition. "You're not with them then? A relief. But your armour... Hm. I am similar to someone you say?' He considered the thought of a different timeline before coming to a hypothesis. "Perhaps you are referring to the Tribals before me under this name? It is a tradition in our - well, not mine anymore - culture to take on the surnames of our mentors, and sometimes even their equipment and fighting styles. Are you not referring to the late Lael or Laadan Farcòn?" Surely this was just a waking dream of his, right? Multiverses were the theories of a dead past, rendered obsolete after the Great Scorch. But he was beginning to doubt himself more and more on that as the armoured man talked.
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A wha? Dude I have no God damn idea what you're on about. If this dude was a tribal I'd have known. His name was Luis Franco, kid could f*ckin' control fire, real melodramatic guy, really smart though. You look, sound, and act just like him. Even got his damn Raging Judges. [i]the armored titan said, pointing to the man's revolvers. Clearly he wasn't lying, he even had a name to back things up.[/i]
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[spoiler]Only one revolver lol[/spoiler] "Luis Franco?" He had never heard such a name. Of course he immediately recognized the surname as an anagram of his own, so there was feasibility there. And Luis could stem from their lineage's consonance as well... But that would imply that someone else took the mantle from Lucien. All existing Tribals had branded his name as the title of a False Prophet, the surname forever tainted by his actions. Also... And he had no memory of his death. So that would be impossible unless he was presumed dead. "A kid, you mentioned. My apologies, this is all rather... Somewhat of a rude awakening," he said as the fire of determination faded slightly, "I am looking for a boy. Dark brown hair and eyes, skin tanned and of possible Asian descent - his skin is like mine."
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When I say kid, I'm talkin' early twenties. [i]He said correctively.[/i] But you're positive you don't recognize that name? Don't know anyone using it as an alias? An anagram even? Because I'm callin' bullsh*t.
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"My apologies my sir," he replied genuinely not knowing of this 'Luis Franco.' He pondered for a moment. If these alternate timelines that the man had mentioned was true, then could it be possible that another version of him wandered here and created a reputation? It seemed laughable. But with his current circumstances, it wasn't all too bizarre. "This Luis Franco. Did he ever have a boy with him? Even if he was about 20, was there ever a boy about 15 or 16?" Lucien as grasping at straws now. Any hint of Alister would suffice for him to continue his pursuit. He couldn't be stopped by a simple lack of evidence now - he would not allow the trail to go cold.
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Nope. He was a loner. Pretty sure he got neutered with a sword while he was here, too. [i]The armored behemoth replied. He was currently trying to figure out just why the hell someone was after a boy. Perhaps a rift, the kid went missing? Perhaps Phoenix had been the child? He was confused, but he'd do some digging into this later.[/i]
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The man ignored the part about neutering - he didn't quite recall having his genitals sterilized at any time in his life. Seemed like something the Abbatial zealots would do. He deflates slightly at the thought of this man not having a boy. Where could Alister be then? If he was taken away, then surely so was the boy, right? Whatever the case, he couldn't let the Iconoclast harm the boy in any way. He knew how they operated. "Perhaps someone in there has seen the boy I'm looking for. By the way... What is your name, stranger? I would rather not travel in a new world such as this without knowing the name of any of its inhabitants." Of course, he didn't know that the Dojo was a crossroads of sorts for different warriors.
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Wilson. Alex Wilson. [i]He said.[/i] I'd go down the list of other names and aliases but considering you ain't from around here, I'm not gonna waste your time or mine. So, let me ask you something, why the hell is this kid so important to you? Better question is, what are you runnin' from? [i]Wilson could sense the urgency in this man, he was a master at reading body language and tone by this point. Something about this man was off, and he intended to find out just what exactly that was.[/i]
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"This boy of mine... His name is Alister Danet." Lucien's eyes clouded, as if plagued by some kind of guilt. "A made a promise in blood once to someone very important to me. Someone who became another victim in my fury. I promised that I would give the boy the skills he would need to survive and the truth. From there he could do what he wanted." There was something more to it than that. He was being awfully linear for some reason, and nothing could hide that. "We were being chased by mercenaries from high-class society members calling themselves the Iconoclast. I'll skip the history lecture behind their name. We were backed up, Alister got captured and they held him for ransom. The last thing I saw was that bastard hitting that boy with a sword pommel. And then..." He struggled with recalling the next part. It was a mixture of reluctance and genuine amnesia, like a horrible fever dream. "I lost control, to say the least. That's the last thing I remember before I woke up here outside these gates. I thought I was dead."
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You're a whole world away from your kid, dude. [i]was all Wilson could say. It made sense to him, but he recognized none of the names, none of the people. [/i]
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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]
