Chapters Hundreds of tracer rounds whistle towards a shelled building, pinging and crunching collapsed concrete and broken glass on contact with the crumbling ruin of a structure.
Two figures struggle to stay out of the path of the bullets and periodically point their rifles out of cover to blindly return fire at the metal monster that had trapped them there in the first place.
One, a pale young man with navy hair and blue eyes, fires the last of his weapon's ammunition and calls out to his partner. “I'm dry sir!”
Orion, his hair a snow-white mess and his white suit now grey from the dust of rubble stands up and casually walks over to the soldier, a deadly flurry of bullets following close behind him as he moves. “I gotcha Shiney.” Orion drops his rifle, a barely recognizable M1903 Springfield with hundreds of little tally marks scarring the stock and denoting the rifle's effectiveness. The barrel of a Hecate, and the carved up stock once belonging to a G3A3, the weapon was heavy in the young rifleman's hands. “That gun saw both world wars, the Korean War, and the Afinian-Orronian war. Take good care of her for me, eh Shiney.” He concludes as he draws his sword in his left hand, vaults over the makeshift cover, and sprints towards the Dredg siege trooper and the roaring chain gun that had pinned them.
“Sir?!” The soldier screams in fright and surprise at the sight of his president and leader running to his death at the hands of an enemy unit.
The trooper turns the gun towards Orion, but doesn't fire. Instead, it draws a large cleaver from its back and quickly lumbers towards the smaller man, murder in his eyes. "Yul Nevar sea tha lite uv day uhgan!" It slurs painfully, the thing's face not truly meant for speech.
The President laughs a cliche hero laugh as he dances round the oafish construct with ease, his simple and sharp blade cutting and rending his foe with sweeps and jabs, occasionally parrying the jagged edge of the siege trooper's cleaver to the left. “You're clearly no swordsman, so why bother carrying a blade?” He teases as he prepares to parry the next vertical swipe of the large cleaver.
Suddenly, the trooper's other hand grabs the handle of the knife as he brings it down, angling it upwards and straight through Orion's arm. “Evree butsha gats too avva gud charp nife to cot is' meet!” It gleefully howls, throwing the now one-armed Orion to the side and feasting on the raw flesh of the dismembered limb.
A single well placed shot from the young soldier enters the trooper's skull an inch below the cheekbone, continues upward through his right eye, clips the brain, and exits through a nasty crater in the back of its head.
Orion stumbles to his feet, blood flowing freely from his armless shoulder. “Touché.”
Then his world is converted to pain, figures and sounds rush in and out of his blurry vision and faded hearing, all providing the meager assistance they can.
Bionic Evaluation
The nurse produced the next test. It was almost exactly the same as the last. A glass box that required specific keys to unlock a series of latches in a specific order. A simple task once you made a few trail and error guesses.
The notable distinction, however, was the prize. The dollar had been replaced with a cigarette and lighter.
Orion searched his pockets frantically, only to realize he had in fact been pick-pocketed. He turned to the mirrored window with a look of explicit annoyance.
“Are you serious? Have you sunk this low?”
“Please proceed with the test, Sir,” the nurse's disembodied voice sounded over the intercom with poorly concealed mirth.
“Triquati…” he murmured as he picked up the small brass keys, preparing to repeat the test.
His organic limb trembled in unreasonable weakness, barely able to hold the keys. “So you've messed with my real arm's nerves and basically fucked me. You do realize I'm providing the funds for this shit, right?” He asked, receiving silence for an answer.
The first violently shaking key touched the lock only for a small spark to jump from the lock and send a small electrical current up his heavily drugged arm. “SEYAKTO BHEKS!” The key fell to the floor as he shook his hand out limply. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” he shouted at the mirror, “You say you need to run some tests on me, and now I'm being drugged and electrocuted like a fucking lab rat. Seriously, what is this stupid bullshit? You've really outdone yourself this time, you aggravating fucks.”
When no one answered him, he turned back to the puzzle. How to unlock the glass box without setting off the charge. He tried a different key, only to be similarly shocked. He reexamined the cart, noticing a new addition to the seemingly random bits that he could use to solve the puzzle.
~~~~~
“He found the hand,” A voice belonging to Dolkar noted, somewhat proudly.
Orion jammed his wrist into the socket at the end of the metal hand. It was designed with combat in mind, and was reinforced with heavy armoring like the arm it was attached to. it was steady and strong unlike the organic counterpart. Evens so, the bionic was incredibly fickle. It likely would crush the key, but Dolkar figured he could figure out how to adjust the force of the grip and do so well enough to finish the test.
“He understands that the arm is metal and therefore more conductive.” one of the scientists in the observation room noted quietly. Dolkar wasn’t exactly surprised. Based on Orion's gadgets and devices, His knowledge of Electricity was clearly equivalent to or greater than their own. But he kept his comments to himself.
The grey-haired man went back to the glass box. Dolkar seemed rather confused that he ignored the small tray of brass keys. “What’s he doing?”
Suddenly, Orion cocked his elbow back and punched through the roof of the box, sending shards of safety glass across the floor. He smoothly placed the cigarette in his mouth, flipped off the mirrored observation window with his jittery hand, and lit the cigarette with the lighter firmly held in his other. “Write that down, you fuckin' lab monkeys.” he said smugly, smoke escaping his mouth.
Dolkar smacked a hand to his face, as the nurse let out a somewhat tired sigh of frustration.
Gloria slowly lifted her head, and I felt as if I had my real body back. Everything inside me stilled as she smiled through her tears. “So am I, Orion,” she said with a sick little laugh as she sat down. “I was ready to hate you. I really had written you off. And as much as it hurt, I think I was okay with it. And then you show up, and I was wrong, and it turns out you still care about me.” She smiled even wider and added, “And you were almost a father. Congratulations and sorry.” Her eyes rested on an old photo of me and Her with that last word. “You don’t even have your body anymore.”
“Gloria, what's wrong? Talk to me,” I said as I reached out with my hand to hold her shoulders. “Tell me what I did wrong!”
She cocked her head, smiling at me with a look of pity as she wept. “Orí, do you love me?”
“Of course I do,” I said, immediately.
“Why?” Gloria asked in that soft voice. So tender. Such yearning to be understood.
“What?” I blinked in bafflement at her.
“Why do you love me?” she asked as she stared into my eyes.
“I...” I stammered, trying to think. “You’re... good. And smart. And nice. And...” I said, but the words felt hollow to me. True, without a doubt, but I knew other good, smart, nice people that I didn’t love. “I just do!” I finally blurted.
She just shook her head with that horrible, sad smile. “I know you just do. But that’s not enough. I loved you because you protected me. You were so strong. Too strong. And like my parents you both left me behind and horribly injured yourself in the process.”
I rolled my eyes. “Gloria, I had to do that. The first time I was going crazy and the second time I was detonating an Afinian WMD that would have killed you. It almost killed me!” I pointed out.
She brushed my long grey hair out of my eyes. “I know, Orion. I know why. And I’m not mad at you for it. But... I would have rather died than be left behind. Maybe I would have. Or maybe we might have found another way. We could play what ifs all the time. The point is that’s not love. Or rather, not the kind of love I know I need.”
“And what is the kind of love you need Gloria? Just tell me and I’ll give it,” I swore. Anything to make this madness stop.
She actually laughed, and then wiped her snotty nose on a sleeve. “Just like that? Funny thing is... you would. You’d try to. I know.” She sighed. “What I need is somebody who needs me. Not just for emotional support, but who needs me with them. That won’t try and treat me like a helpless baby.” She shook her head. “I’m not that girl that was trapped underground anymore, Orion. I haven’t been for a long time.
“But I need you,” I swore, trying to put as much feeling into it as I could.
“You need someone, Orí. But it doesn’t have to be me,” she said with that wistful gaze in her eyes. “In fact, I think right now that it shouldn’t have been me at all. I was just clinging to you in the hopes that, eventually, you’d love me the way I needed to be loved.”
“But Gloria... I...” I fumbled, feeling gutpunched. “I can love you like that. I can.”
“No, You’re a good person, but you can’t put me first. You didn’t put your own life first, even when you were alone. That... scares me. I can’t imagine the kind of man who can do that. I wonder if I could ever do what you do so easily...” she said quietly.
I wondered if this was really happening. Maybe any second the sadistic torture program would pop out of the couch cushions and go ‘surprise, want to execute Dredger now?’ Then I’d be free to meet the real Gloria and everything would somehow... magically... be fine...
Damn it... Webber never had to go through this. Why did I? I looked at Fontaine, but all he gave me was his own sympathetic gaze. Not a shake of the head or a nod of advice. Not a word. This he was leaving entirely up to me. I returned my eyes to her face. “You’ve been there for me so many times, even with all my mistakes and screw ups. I don’t want to lose you.”
“And I’ll be there for you in the future,” Glory said quietly, “as a friend. But you and I... we don’t... have anything anymore. I’ve always been carried along, swept in your wake, left behind, and picked back up again.” She covered my mouth with her hand. “And I know you do like me and care for me. And I’m very thankful for that. But that... that isn’t love. You have a deeper connection with Tora than you will ever have with me. And I need someone I can have that connection with. It isn’t going to be with you.” She sniffed and leaned up, kissing my cheek softly, and then pushed my hands off her shoulders.
She started to walk out the door, and I just stared after her. Then I blurted. “Gloria, do you love me?”
She paused and looked over her shoulder at me, smiling calmly amid the wet on her cheeks. “No,” was all she said, and then stepped out of Olde House. Her name caught in my throat as I struggled to say whatever magic phrase would change her mind. Something. Anything... The quiet click of the door was like a shearing blade right through my heart. Slowly I bowed my head, and tears began pattering by my boots as I thought of all the things that could have been... that should have been...
But I'm not Webber, I'm not a gilded hero that can sweep her off her feet and give everyone the happy ending they want. I'm Orion the soldier. Orion the president. Orion the war machine.
I started to move, but Fontaine got in my way. “Hold the hell still, I need this,” he growled as he reached and did something to the detonator. To my amazement, it didn't blow up in his face. I blinked at him, feeling overwhelmed. Too much shit was happening right now, and it felt like my brain had gotten whiplash trying to determine what to do. He looked right into my eyes, though, and said softly, “We need every gun to win this war, so live long enough for that.” Then he smiled at me. “Spasiba, its boom time!”
So, there was a plan? “Let's do this.” I muttered, looking up at Bishop, wondering how the fuck I was going to beat him.
“Well this is just too pathetic for words, so…” He swung the barrels down towards the injured girl and her lifeless sister. “First, the distractions!”
“Stay away from my sisters, you metal bastard!” Mac shouted as he backed away, then clenched his hands around his rifle’s handle and, kicking through the rubble, expertly fired shot after shot at the massive Reaper above us. Our eyes met, both of us mirroring the other’s apology. This was his way to make it up to me. This was my chance to make it up to him; I’d killed his sister, the least I could do was see to it that she wasn’t blasted for the sadist’s amusement. The rifle was loaded with some kind of armor piercing rounds, and, as I scrambled up the concrete steps, I was glad to see them punching holes in Bishop's shoulders.
What I hated was how those holes didn’t seem like more than annoyances to him. He shifted his stance and swung the two cannons over to point down at the man in insufficient armor. The shots echoed like thunder pouring into the remains of the building. The structure began to groan and sway as his cannons blasted Mac with explosive shells. The large man couldn’t run in the debris. He couldn’t hide from the blasting explosions. So, he died.
“One done,” Bishop said as I reached the level he was on, my shotgun loaded with slugs. I had no clue how I was going to stop him. I just knew I’d either do it or die trying. His eyes narrowed as he smirked. “Are you finally done running?”
“Yeah,” I muttered as I looked back at him across the beams and walls that crossed the void beneath us. “You’re not afraid you’re going to blow this up?” I asked, my cybernetic eye flashing red as I glanced down at Fontaine working on something. Glad one of us had a plan.
“Nah. See, when you have guns like these, I don’t have to hit you. I just have to hit near you.” And triggered by a thought, the firing mechanism gave a loud metal click before the guns roared, and I was running as the blast took off the top of the steps in a shower of rubble. I am not the nimblest of people, but right now I kept my focus on blasting him with slugs and moving ahead of the clockwork explosions ripping the ruin apart behind me. I could only hope that nobody below was buried.
I didn’t aim, I simply fired as fast as my shotgun allowed. He didn’t run or dodge. The lead pancaked and fractured off his armor and all I could do was keep moving and keep firing and keep praying that whatever Fontaine was doing would work. When I tried to sprint to point blank range, he blew the beams out ahead of me, grinning and saying something that was lost in the ringing in my ears. Worse, my legs were starting to go numb from the constant battering concussion. One misstep and he wouldn’t have to shoot me.
I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t strong enough. I had to be more. I activated my eye's targeting matrix and tried to think of something. Nothing around me would be very useful, so... my pack. I lacked explosives (and knowledge of how to use them). My shotgun was my strongest weapon, and it wasn’t doing anything to Bishop except amusing him. I needed... what I shouldn’t use. I had them; Dolkar hadn’t taken them from me. I could use them. I knew it was wrong and stupid. It was going to get me killed... but then, so was Bishop.
I had to do better. I had to talk to Fontaine. I had to make this better for Dolkar. I had to give Bishop some peace. I had to.
Green Malakit injection. Adrenaline. Warfarin. Z-carbon. I dropped The targeting program, then pulled open my pack as I kept dodging. I injected like a fiend, trying to close the distance at the same time. Fuck me...it felt good. When the Malakit hit my system, the world crawled to a halt. It was almost like I time had froze, but I could still move. When the drugs wore off, Bishop found me in his face. Or rather, my shotgun in his face. I fired four rounds at point blank range... and a little shield popped up on my Combat assessment module with each. Even now, he was too tough for my weapons to touch.
I didn’t give a crap. For all his pistons and steel, he was still human, and I forced my way behind him. “Gonna give me a massage?” he laughed as he smashed my shotgun with one hand. It would be his last laugh.
I pointed the gun at the back of his ankle and he screamed. I had a feeling that he had never screamed like that before. I prayed to Luna that this was one injury, no matter how superficial, that he couldn’t regenerate or heal. With my final, extremely satisfying shot, I crippled God.
All sadistic banter went away as he stomped and kicked wildly. To stay behind him was to be rendered into bloody paste. I hooked my arms around the ammo feed to one of his guns and was jerked out from under him, flipping onto his back. All I could do was hang on for dear life, digging my fingers into sharp metal to keep from slipping off as he flailed and thrashed in a frenzy of his own. One swing would have tossed me out over the edge if not for my hand being caught in his ammo feed. Finally, he managed to get a grip on my shoulder and pull.
By pure luck I slammed into a metal pipe and wrapped my hand around it desperately, dangling over the jagged floor two stories down. I looked up at Bishop, my neck throbbing despite the painkillers, as he stared at me with maddened eyes. He wasn’t going to shoot near me. He was going to render me into bloody vapor and stomp on my grave. Looking at the ruin of a foot at the end of his leg, I couldn’t blame him.
I pulled myself back up to the platform where Bishop had began to regain focus and saw that his guns were now completely out of commission. Suddenly I stumbled and fell on my face, the strain of the battle having burnt out my cybernetic legs and arms leaving me motionless on the floor. Then my salvation arrived as quickly as I had fallen.
“I'm sick of your dumb ass stomping around and making a mess of things.” Gritted Fontaine at the angry war machine as he stepped over to Macintosh's lever action rifle, and brought it to his hip, loading it with the scary rounds he had stored in his belt. “Now do me and everyone else a favor.“ it at Bishops's midsection and firing with steel resolve; each shot impacting his armor and staggering him a step backwards.
Fontaine looked him in the eyes, dropped the rifle, and proceeded to boot him in the chest; sending the menace screaming down into the spikes. “And go to sleep!” The Afinian leader finished angrily as the detonator he'd placed on Bishop triggered, engulfing the metal man in fatal flame.
I blinked and struggled to my feet, the warehouse now silent save for the sound of crackling fire and crumbling stone. “Thanks.”
Orion stands in front of the large, reinforced glass window overlooking his city, and reminisces on its humble and modest beginnings as a corporation..
"Look at you," he whispers to his empire like a parent watching their child grow, his lips falling onto a newly poured glass of scotch. "Look at how big, and how strong you've become. How you've changed so much about the world, yet started so small in comparison."
At the last word, five men wielding assault rifles and wearing body armor burst into the room, and train their guns directly at Orion.
"Orion! We are soldiers of the Atakè liberation rebellion, and we've infiltrated you're headquarters with our leader!" One soldier barks loudly, gun still raised.
"So, I'm guessing you don't like how I run this civilization?" Orion offers casually, still sipping his drink.
A bald man wearing tattered military fatigues with a handgun in a leg holster steps through the soldiers and face Orion, the two men a mere two feet apart, Orion's desk separating them.
"Indeed, and we have come to kill you and place a better leader in office." The bald man says, hand moving to his holstered gun.
Orion smirks, remembering his loyal legion of guards. "What if I call security and have you all publicly executed in front of your children?" He asks.
"We've taken care of them. no survivors, we promise." The leader of the soldiers comments triumphantly.
Orion remembers another security measure: the modified nitro 500 express with heavy recoil dampeners He keeps on a hook under his desk, and the security call button next to it. "So if I press the button under my desk, no ones gonna come and whoop you asses?" Orion proposes with a questioning tone.
"Precisely." The leader of the liberationists replies in a confident tone, placing on hand on Orion's desk.
Rolling his eyes, Orion reaches under his desk, his hand finding the handle of his favorite gun. "I guess I'll have to kill you all myself then." Orion says with calm determination, not moving his hand out from under his desk.
The rebel leader draws his gun and slowly moves it to Orion's head. "Try me, tyrant."
"Don't touch me with that weak gun, or I'll make your empty little head disappear like a gun magician." Orion growls through gritted teeth.
The rebel leader puts the gun under Orion's chin. "Oops."
Orion draws his gun and puts it to the man's chin as well. "I like your little outfit, and your cookie-cutter infantry, and I just LOVE the amount of civilians you kill, but........" He pauses, and takes a deep breath, exhaling and visually changing moods from calm to absolutely enraged. "I have a BIG rule, and it's posted on ABOUT 200 BILLBOARDS ALL OVER THE CITY, AND HAVE YOU EVER STOPPED TO READ IT? YOU CLEARY HAVE NOT READ THE FUCKIN' SIGN, BECAUSE ITS SAYS: DON'T EVER TOUCH ME, OR I WILL MURDER THE LIVING Shit OUT OF YOU! I WARNED YOU, BUT YOU'VE GONE AND DONE IT ANYWAY, SO NOW YOU GET TO TAKE THE EXPRESS ELEVATOR TO THE LOBBY!" He screams in the man's face before pulling the trigger to his massive revolver, and throwing the headless corpse through a window.
"Open fire!" One soldier yells before sharing the fate of his leader.
Furious, Orion fires blindly to his left while stomping over to his mantelpiece where another nitro express is kept.
"YOU'RE. SO. DAMN. POINTLESS!" The hellishly angry Man yells between each thunderous shot of his gargantuan revolvers.
"We need reinforcements on the top floor! Repeat we need reinforce— a terrified rebel soldier shouts into a walkie-talkie, while Orion fires shot after shot at him.
Suddenly the gunshots stop, and the soldier's firearms training proves its worth. "Ha! Your out of bullets for those, aren't you?!" He taunts, rising from cover.
The soldier turns around, and, to his surprise; is now face to face with Orion. "What can you do, huh?" The confident young gunner jeers at the suited man standing just a foot away from him.
Orion vanishes in a puff of black smog, with a single whispered word striking fear into the soldier's heart once more. "Win."
Then the poor rebel is tackled out of the very same window his leader had been thrown out of earlier.
"W-what are you!?" He cries as the two men plummet towards the ground.
Orion shifts his weight and catches the frightened soldier in a full-Nelson. "YOU'VE COMMITTED A SIN AGAINST ME, THE LORD OF THIS LAND!" Orion bellows into the ear of the rebel as they draw closer still, to the solid stone ground.
"W-WHO IN GOD'S N-NAME ARE Y-YOU?" The doomed warrior howls back at him.
The second the two reach the ground, Orion roars words that could be hear across his nation. "I AM THE NIGHTMARE OF YOUR LEADERS!"
And with that, they hit the ground, Orion vanishing once more into a puff of black smoke.
Dolkar, Galagus, Fontaine, and Orion stand facing each other; loudly arguing about which one of them will be the one to stay behind on the surface and face off with Dredger's real body and mind, while the other three journey into the core to destroy his heart and soul.
Orion steps forth and volunteers immediately, his blue green eyes showing stubborn determination. “I am the oldest and the most susceptible to the core's corruptive affect on the mind, I shall fight him.”
“You're fucking bonkers, that freak is gonna kill you!” Dolkar pipes in, voicing concern for his old friend.
Orion laughs a dusty and loud laugh and sighs. “His physical prowess and personal mind are in the surface body, what really matters is what's down in the core.”
Galagus turns around and walks toward the tram. “Without Orion it's gonna be a rough ride, but we can tough it out.” He calls back to the others.
“Disregard my previous self nomination, I shall accompany you in your directive.” Orion asserts with grim conviction.
Dolkar sighs and steps closer to Orion , speaking in a whisper. “You can't come with us, he won't let you in like he will us. I'm sorry, but you were right; you have to stay up here and fight him.”
Not wanting to continue the argument, Orion nods and grabs a cord around his neck and pulls, snapping it and dropping the small metal dogtags into his other hand. He holds them out to Dolkar. “Make sure these are returned to returned to Orro, I'm sure they will suffice in regards to my burial.”
“I will." Dolkar chokes as he sprints to the cargo tram and jumps aboard.
Orion turns to face Fontaine, and watches silently as the commissar salutes him and proceeds to join the others on the tram.
“Godspeed to you lads!” He calls to the distant assembly as they begin their descent into the core.
A figure steps out from behind a fallen behemoth and clears his throat.
drawing his longsword from the sheath on his back, Orion moves into a two handed stance with the blade held over his right shoulder, silently watching his opponent.
“Dredger.”
Dredger removes the tie from his matte black suit and swiftly brandishes a falchion, holding it in his right hand as he prepares to engage Orion in combat.
"Looks like you're gonna get to see your family again." The suited man bites at the king as he walks toward him, falchion in hand.
Orion switches to a one-handed stance, with the sword's handle in his right hand and the blade resting slightly against his shoulder. “Still as cliche as ever Phillip.” He sighs, stopping his walk towards Dredger.
Dredger tightens his grip on the falchion and leers. "You're nowhere near as strong as I, so you may have the first strike. After that, anything goes."
“Very well.” The larger swordsman accepts grimly.
Orion drops to one knee and bows his head, but Dredger just watches calmly as the president's legs tense up and he dashes forward in a powerful sliding lunge; closing the 60 foot distance between them in one move.
"You've gone mad if you think that'll scare me!" Orion bants, following a quick slash from Dredger's falchion and it's wickedly sharp edge.
Swords flash in contact with each other, Orion Never slowing his wild and violent strikes as his adversary worked to parry and deflect as many as he could..
An overhead slash from Orion purposefully pulls short of hitting his opponent and is fluidly pushed back out in a dangerous lunging stab, causing Dredger to jump backwards to avoid getting impaled by the large double edged blade.
"What's this now? Has age gifted you with wisdom? Or has it made you as senile as I think it has?" The suited man jeers as he parries Orion's sword to the right and pirouettes, his blade evilly slicing across the president's unarmored face in a nasty diagonal line.
“You're gonna die kiddo.” Orion states in cold hatred as he turns to face the former scientist, his remaining eye emitting an red glow.
Another barely visible sweep aimed at Orion's face is stopped before it can reach it by one powerful hand that grips it without hesitation. "This sword is made of metals that your greatest smiths couldn't possibly comprehend smelting, you old fool, it cannot shatter under force of mortal me— his teasing tone falters as Orion wrenches Dredger's arm to the side, kicks him in the chest, and abruptly snaps the falchion over his knee like a brittle twig.
"H-how did you d-do that?" Dredger stammers in true terror, and begins to back away but trips on a melted rifle and falls onto his back looking up at Orion from the ground, he contemplates fleeing but is too afraid to scramble to his feet.
Single eye still glowing in fury, the man bears down on his well dressed enemy. “I am a God of pain and misery to thine people, and all who threaten mine. Thou said I was to meet my god on this day, but I suppose Thee hath instead been met with strength unparalleled.” Orion holds him on the ground with a single heavy boot and brings the sword downwards, piercing through dredger altogether and burying it in the stone he lay on. “Be still and die quietly, for I am done with thee.”
Down by the river, I was astonished to find an old navy police pox sitting next to gate at the front of the bridge. The doors were slightly scorched, but the box was still in quite a good condition. The woman I assume to be Derpy was in the midst of haggling for a bag of flour. The Doctor lay draped across a rock next to the battered Box, hat covering his head, a trio of bottles collected around him.
“You survived?!” I shouted at him.
He jerked upright, scattering bottles every which way as his head turned wildly with his pirate hat still covering his face as it sat loosely on his head. “I fully reject the astutely false equivocation of that preposterously obligatory statement!” He bawled out. “That's wildly unfair profiling of the supremely nautically challenged, and hence I am heavily offended but it, sir! Offended and upset!”
“It’s me, Doc,” I said as walked over in front of the inebriated time traveler. “Orion. President.” I pulled off my helmet and grinned at him.
He pulled the hat off and arched a brow as he eyed me suspiciously. “I’ve heard that in many occasions often of late. Some say they are. Some say they aren’t. How am I to know this isn’t a highly elaborate scheme to thoroughly confound and disabuse me, The Doctor of my personal dignity and infamously high character?”
“I… uh…” he’d missed the meeting, it seemed. Then I picked up one of the empty bottles, stuck it on my finger, broke it over my head, and grinned at him.
“Well,” he said formally. “That changes things.” And he pulled the bottle off my finger, looked at the others arranged around him, and lifted up one with a few dregs, downing it.
“How are you still in one piece?” I asked. “I saw the Tardis get hit.”
He scowled at me. “Did not. You saw her almost get hit.” He spat at the city.
“Doctor, we nearly got blown out of the water!” Derpy hollered back at us, her teal painted knight armor shifting as she put her hands on her hips.
“Not even close!”
“It nearly burned the roof off! We were almost cooked in the steam.”
“Just a graze,” The Doctor said, adopting a stoic pose.
“Didn’t it vaporize those bottles of Kylmiir’s Moonrise Rum?” She bemusedly hummed.
The Doctor's bottom lip quivered, and then he grabbed me and sobbed into my shoulder. “It was a disaster! A catastrophe! If we hadn’t of turned towards the city at the last moment, I would have lost the last bottle too!”
“You nearly lost your ship, Captain Dodo!” the teal knight yelled back.
The teal knight poked her head into the Tardis, then shook her head. “Where's all the money?” Derpy turned towards The Doctor. “Doctor, did you—ORION?!” She jumped in surprise and trapped me in an armored hug. “Oh my god I thought you were dead!” She chirped, before being pried off by the Doctor. “You are the REAL Orion, right?” She asked.
The Doctor moved a bottle over and stuck it on the end of my finger. He then gestured to me with both his hands and an arched brow.
“He's the real Orion,” He assured her. “It’s good to see you too, Derpy. Is Fontaine around?” I ask, puzzlement in my eyes.
Orion, a scarred and tired man grips a large grey staff with a faintly glowing purple gem at the head of it. Clad in matte white knight armor with grey hair and a torn and ruined cape, he stands wistfully in the company of six statues; each the likeness of a great hero who'd fallen in battle or succumbed to age.
"I wish I could go back in time to when you all were still here." He whispered to the statues, walking to the far left statue and stopping to read the inscription.
"Galagus: The company I keep is odd yes, but I'll gladly lay down my life for anyone of them at a moments notice." Orion silently echoed as he moved his hand over the engraved letters.
He moves to the next statue and attempts to hold back tears as he reaches the statue.
"Dolkar: Adversity is completely trivial when surrounded by friends."
Not wanting to dwell on the statue and its associated memories, Orion continues.
He reaches the next statue and fails in his attempts.
"Oh...."
"Lytė: Thank you all so much for keeping your eyes open to the light." Orion retrieves two halves of a broken jousting lance from his knapsack, and places them at the foot of Lytė's statue.
"Thanks."
Orion moves on to the next hero.
Bishop: "in order to atone for my crimes, I chose to live as a monster rather than die for some militia, and I've never regretted that choice."
"If only you knew..."
He comes to a stop at the concurrent statue.
Webber: "Even though I no longer feel human, thanks to this assortment of oddballs, I still feel something."
Orion tiredly shuffles towards the next.
Crypt: “ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਅਨਾਦਿ ਦਾ ਆਰਾਧਨਾ ਮੇਰੀ ਕੋਡ ਨੂੰ ਬੰਨ੍ਹ ਰਿਹਾ ਹੈ, ਪਰ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਇਸ ਦੀ ਰੱਖਿਆ ਕਰਨ ਲਈ ਟੀ, ਕਾਮਰੇਡ ਦੇ ਮੇਰੇ ਵੱਖ ਗਰੁੱਪ ਨੂੰ ਦੇ ਵਿਰੁੱਧ ਲੜਨ ਜਾਵੇਗਾ.”
"Rest easy old metal, You are finally free."
"Tora: tell Orion That I'm no longer dying, but rather, I'm living again in the souls of those who remember my name. Tell him I love him."
"Tora.......I didn't.......I could've......"
His eyes narrow and his teeth clench as he returns to the middle of the circle.
"DAMMIT" booms in a magic-fueled rage, his staff firmly planted into the polished stone in front of him, crystal glowing brighter than ever before.
"AWAKEN!"
Orion becomes engulfed in orange and turquoise flame as he pours his very being into the staff, causing magic to flow in lines to each of the statues.
"I DOTH COMMAND THEE TO CAST OFF THINE INFERNAL CONSTRAINTS AND RETURN TO THINE RIGHTFUL MORTAL STATES!!"
The staff explodes with brilliant display of arcane potency, waves of emerald green and shining silver expand outward and wash over the statues as Orion pours his very soul into his most powerful spell.
Then at once, the chamber is silent again, and Orion falls to his knees.
"Funny. I guess the Phoenix has broken his immortal cycle for a chance to reforge the lives of others from his own ash. How poetic and fitting an end for a man such as I."
"O....Orion?" The gravelly metallic voice of a blurred figure calls out to him, as he begins to crumble into ashen dust, the particles once belonging to his body drifting away behind his tired form and leaving nothing but a warped metal staff and a minute layer of lifeless soot.
