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Charlie (H plus 7 Days; Operation Sewer Management)
Twenty minds connected to me. A single waking dream. All the Monsters. A part of me always had feared that nickname Nasr had given us. Not this time. Not when we fought together in our first, real battle against the Enemy.
But in my head, with everyone connected to my Oneiros, my feelings didn't matter anymore. Maybe heroes or gods weren't needed here. Maybe Earth needed Monsters. I exalted in that.
"We are Monsters. I'm a creature of nightmares conducting a symphony of witchcraft on a planet of red. Of course we are monsters."
We moved as one. Foxtrot popped in and out, ferrying us from point to point. Kilo used her Geotic Infantry. It created dozens of soldier-drones out of the concrete, neosteel and detritus under Fontana. Others followed suit. They used all their abilities in perfect concert.
Whiskey whizzed by me. I'd allocated processing to her. Ten percent of each other Monster's BrainSys added a bit of their processing cycles back to her. The smaller Geotic Engineer imagined and created countless objects. Then she distributed them to the rest of us as the fight raged.
She crafted ammunition from materials around us. She would create barricades for us to act from behind. Swords. Axes. She shimmered in a aura of blue goetic motes.
Whiskey smiled the entire time. Her grin must've been taking up her entire misproportioned head. I'd almost thought she was enjoying the experience. Maybe she was enjoying it. I didn't know what to think about it.
My Oneiros let me touch each of the other Monsters. I heightened them. We marched further and further under Fontana. With each step I could feel sensory input from everyone. Whiskey's joy, Foxtrot's carelessness, Uniform's stalwart concern. My dreamspace channeled and altered pain they experienced. Others I would alter their sense of time, making them move faster and faster.
Texts flew between us. They were so amazingly fast. It felt like telepathy.
"Another step closer to Trash Heap!"
"There's another junction ahead to Trash Heap."
"Kilo! I need reinforcements over here!"
"Oh Whiskey could you- Oh thanks!"
And more like that. I facilitated that. Like some sort of living network, I touched each mind. Me. I tried to keep back, but it felt like I was walking where everyone else was. I slew each sewer spawn. I took each hit. I knocked down each wall. I ran down each hall.
"Trash heap." I muttered to myself. "Why do I keep saying that?"
"It's what we've been calling the thing under Fontana." I told myself.
"From Fraggle Rock?" Ugh. "Are we going to name everything after a muppet?"
"Trash Heap seems to work." I paused.
"C, you ok?" Whiskey asked as she jumped down a concrete crevice. Foxtrot stood at point. We were nearing Trash Heap.
"Yes..." I kept my focus. "Just... talking."
"To yourself?" Whiskey asked. "Or to me? It's kinda confusing me."
I didn't know which it was. Maybe I was getting blurry on where I was in all this. I could feel parts of my Oneiros in Whiskey, and parts of her I'd put aside in other Monsters. Where was me in all that? Or was I going crazy?
"I don't know." I told her. "We're nearly there."
A wall shattered ahead of us. Hundreds of Kilo's goetic infantry ran around us, keeping Sewer Spawn back. We moved into the massive cistern that had once housed the water plant for the city of Fontana above. The monster hung in it. Orange-Pink Roots or veins connected it to the concrete walls. The single-eyed drone creatures still crawled all over it.
Foxtrot and the rest started to form a circle around part of Trash Heap. The massive thing just thrummed. I could sense its heart beat in my dreamspaces. A low, ever present thrumming.
Trash Heap didn't react to us. The Sewer Spawn kept coming, but the Eye drones on it didn't move. They just stared as we set up.
"Ok, C." Whiskey chuckled. "Wait until those big eyed buggers taste what I got for 'em."
Sewer spawn started to fade in numbers. We started our grisly work on Trash Heap. Suited up Monsters held up massive, glowing red weapons at it. Hoses connected back to Whiskey. Tanks of oxygen were opened around them. Then each weapon unleashed bright, white fire onto Trash Heap.
"It's working!" Foxtrot cried.
Whiskey laughed as fire cut into part of the mass of Trash Heap. Blue liquid poured out as fire seared into orange and pink flesh. Whatever it was, it evaporated with a wicked hiss.
Tendrils and tentacles erupted around us. I fought to keep up the dreamspace. Trash Heap's tentacles demolished and melted concrete around us.
"Ah!" Whiskey screamed as tentacles ensnared her.
"Whiskey!" I tried to grab a hold of the smaller monster. Tendrils reached for my neck, trying to wrap themselves around it. Choking me.
No not me. They were choking her. I felt my neck. No tendrils. Whiskey's helmet cracked as Trash Heap pulled her toward it.
I could feel Whiskey's own throat. She couldn't last very long with this. No. Not her. Not Whiskey. I tried to climb toward Trash Heap, grabbing for a sword or something to hit.
"Charlie, stay back. I got her." Foxtrot shoved me back.
She then popped up in the air. The red-haired monster dropped ontop of the mass of tentacles constricting Whiskey. Another pop, and the two of them transited back. A mess of blue blood, exploded in the air above us.
Thunder crackled. Whiskey and Foxtrot appeared next to me.
"Whiskey!" I clamped onto her arm, taking her from Foxtrot. "Are you ok?"
Whiskey coughed. I couldn't sense her brain blacking in and out. I could see bits and pieces of orange-pink tentacles on her body. Maybe she was ok. Maybe she wasn't.
My anger flowed into my Oneiros. The white-hot flamethrowers clicked back on again, this time pouring even faster and swifter. I didn't connect the minds of the others. I stoke them. I fanned them into a flame on their own.
We struck at Trash Heap like a thunderstorm. Chunks of ceiling rock collapsed as we tore pieces of it from the walls. We hacked and sliced at its eye drones. Fire toasted it.
An hour later, I woke up from the nasty dream I'd created. The mass of Trash Heap had been ripped open. Its organs were ripped all around us in chunks. I could still feel its heart beating in my dreamspace.
"Charlie..." Voices tried to talk to me. I ignored them.
"Rip it out." I said, pointing at the heart.
Everyone converged on the beating, single-ventricle of a heart. Blue blood hissed as the elephant sized organ fell apart. Dark satisfaction flooded me. My anger felt justified. I'd taught the thing a lesson. I'd avenged what it'd done to Whiskey.
As I let go of my Oneiros, I heard a single voice in my dreamspace. As the heart stopped it's thrumming, a single cry entered my mind. Something sad and mournful. Disappointed. Regretful.
The last dying moment from Trash Heap hit my mind. Then I wanted to find a place deep and dark to hide in.
Aftermath 43
Part 43 of this thang. This In Transit Monster thang.
The use of Trash Heap is prolly where I go from deep allegories to absurd whimsy. Why not? Fraggles improve everything.
This is me continuing to try my hand at writing combat. I don't know if I conveyed it right here or not. The Monsters (that name seems to stick with me atm) don't have quite human anatomies. The idea being that they surpass human capacities in some fashion.
I think the next part will pop back to Earth. Project Orpheus needs to be re-explored, after a fashion I imagine. Ha. Bad poetry.
Thank you for reading my first draft here! As always, input helps. I try to use whatever I get, and more or less don't fear actual criticism. BS or super-negativity, I just ignore. See ya.
I think the next part will pop back to Earth. Project Orpheus needs to be re-explored, after a fashion I imagine. Ha. Bad poetry.
Thank you for reading my first draft here! As always, input helps. I try to use whatever I get, and more or less don't fear actual criticism. BS or super-negativity, I just ignore. See ya.
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