Mind over Matter 2

MoM2

A pit formed in my stomach. The Slaughterhouse Nine are here. I rummaged through the desk. Dodge’s dimensional remote was in here somewhere.

I nearly yanked the drawer out of the desk pulling out the remote. This was the failsafe, one of them at least. I shoved it in one of my lab coat’s pockets, rushing over to the wall of cots. I clambered up the ladder, prying a false ceiling tile off the roof. There was a second layer to my office. It was an arsenal and a panic room, all things considered.

A bulky silver desk sat in the center, a keyboard set into it. A row of monitors and screens hung from above the desk, dominating a whole wall. The room was completely dark, a pitch blackness enveloping everything in it. The walls were all reinforced, as was the floor. An anvil rested in the corner, tiny rockets attached to it. A door with a passcode and keypad was set into the wall, it was heavily reinforced.

Stinger had been one of Toybox’s most infamous members. We had set him on his feet, helped him along the way to villainy. We still kept in contact with him, stockpiling weapons in case they were needed. We had a whole wall of rpgs and portable missile launchers in this room. I glanced back down into my office, scurrying down the ladder. I grabbed the artificial brain, my magnum opus, and climbed back into safety. I couldn’t risk staying down there, not with the Nine outside.

I pushed the false ceiling panel back into the floor, then hurried over to the anvil. I flicked a switch, and the floor rockets connected to the anvil flared to life. A wave of heat and the smelling of something burning filled the room. In the orange light of the propulsion, shadows were cast around the room. The rocket launchers seemed ominous with their aggressive designs and wild color schemes in the flickering light. The anvil lifted off the ground slightly, it’s considerable weight being lifted by the four tiny rockets. It was still hard to push the hovering anvil over the false tile.

The anvil fell with a heavy thud onto the false tile. For a moment I worried it would break the tile, but that was impossible, I had made sure it wouldn’t break. The ladder entrance was now secure, no one would be coming up that way.

I rushed over to the desk, typing seemingly random keystrokes into the keyboard. A faint, distant hissing started below me, followed by a faint thud. Nobody would be getting in to my area. Even if they did, they wouldn’t survive long enough to reach the office, much less actually get into the panic room.

I laid Pyrotechnical’s gun on the desk, walking over to the wall of weapons. In the corner was a smaller rack. A set of rich purple and white armor was resting on it, a very fine layer of dust resting on it. It wasn’t fully body covering, nor was it the strongest, but it was lightweight. It wasn’t meant to take major hits, it was meant to serve as minor protection while I flitted around with a jetpack.

The armor was a slight, familiar weight across my shoulders. It was practically weightless, it’s angular lines meant to be aerodynamic. I went back to the desk, switching on the camera feed. The screens hanging from the ceiling lit up. They showed a scene of utter carnage.

The Nine had taken a few hits recently, losing valuable members, but despite that they were still a force to be reckoned with. They’d replaced some of their loses recently.

It had only been a few minutes at the most to get into the panic room, yet the clearing was a bloodbath. A large metal beast rammed through Bauble’s glass pyramid. It was vaguely formed like a massive dog, a dog that was made of a shifting, silver metal that was made up of thousands of individual blades. Bauble was covered in tiny little cuts, and every step seemed to hurt for her. Her pyramid, her magnum opus, fell down around her in a thousand jagged crystal pieces. She was fast, but the metal beast was faster, for every one step she took, the beast took three.

I remembered the name. Hookwolf.

Bauble glanced over her shoulder. Hookwolf was impossibly close. I saw what she was running towards. It was a sleek looking gun, with a jagged black pattern running down its white barrel. A trio of metal pentagons flew past Hookwolf. They each had a single grasping claw and a whirring buzzsaw. Sparks flew as the saw scrapped against Hookwolf’s metal form. One saw blade caught, and the drone pivoted, slamming into Hookwolf’s body. He slowed for the slightest second, thrashing his body to shake the drones off.

That second was all Bauble needed to dive for the gun. She fumbled with it, gripping it awkwardly and frantically readjusting. She glared at Hookwolf, her face an expression of utter hate. She raised the gun, firing a blast of a blinding white light towards Hookwolf.

Nothing happened.

And then, a moment later, Hookwolf  paused. Another moment passed, and the front half of Hookwolf shifted from metal to glass. He took a step forward, only to find that his front paws didn’t move, that they were beyond his control. Big Rig’s drones rammed into the glass front of Hookwolf, spiderweb fractures forming around where they hit. Their buzzsaws buried themselves deep in the glass, spitting out chunks and shards of glass before finally getting caught and grinding to a halt. The grasping claws pulled at the glass, the sharpened edges piercing it’s the glass and tugging it out.

Big Rig was at his terminal atop a set of sturdy scaffolding. He was a giant of a man, but one who was impossibly thin. He was all sticks and bones and brown crew cut hair. He was like a conductor, directing his drones with flicks of a switch and presses of a button. The drones tore into Hookwolf on his orders. He had more, but they had formed a swirling swarm of death around Big Rig’s scaffolding. Their buzzsaws whirred, shredding empty air as they prevented anyone from approaching him.

A walking, vaguely humanoid, blob of sloughing flesh made its way across the clearing. Skinslip. A pale girl, one with pitch black hair and an equally black dress walked alongside Skinslip. Night Hag. Both new members. They steadily approached the white hallway. They steadily approached my bunker.

Bonesaw and Jack Slash were nowhere to be seen.

Something seemed off, and it wasn’t the fact that two of the Nine’s members were missing. I checked in on the camera. Pyrotechnical was inside her building, a her emerald green eyes flirting around nervously. It wasn’t her. Glace was nowhere to be seen, but that was to be expected. He rarely left his winter wonderland that Dodge made him. Dodge was nowhere to be seen, he clearly teleported away to hide.

Which left Toy Soldier and his giant robot as the only ones unaccounted for. I tanned over to the cockpit camera. Damnit, he was asleep. I rose the radio up to my lips, “Wake up, you idiot! The Nine are here!”

Toy Solider’s eyes slowly opened, and his red headed, bulky form stretched. He yawned, “What’s up, boss?” His eyes slowly dipped shut, “I was having a nice nap.”

I didn’t need to deal with this. Toy Soldier was one of the longest standing members of Toybox, but he was consistently the most infuriating. Turning him into a pawn had hardly made him better.

Fortunately, I didn’t need to deal with him.

I spoke the command phrase, “Adsignatos.”

Toy Soldier blinked once, his posture stiffening to be straighter, yet simultaneously more relaxed.

I had chosen adsignatos because it wasn’t something you accidentally stumbled upon. My patients were mine and mine alone, I wasn’t about to let someone else fumble their way through commanding them.

I let a satisfied smirk settle on my phase. “Kill the intruders.”

Toy Soldier gave a slight nod, shifting himself around so that he was seated properly to pilot his giant robot. He pressed a button, and the world erupted into sound. It was like the low grumble of a truck starting up, except amplified until it reached the point where eardrums burst. After a few moments, the sound died down to a low roar.

I tabbed back to the main camera.

Skinslip has broken off from Night Hag, and was steadily marching towards Toy Solider’s robot, which he had affectionately dubbed Behemini. The robot took a step, and the ground shook in response. It leaned forward, surveying the land.

We both watched as Hookwolf let out a growl and slammed the front half of his body into the ground. The glass shattered into a rain of jagged shards, leaving only the back half of Hookwolf solid. Bauble rose the gun again, having caught her breath. She pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

She cursed, and threw the gun down. The remaining half of Hookwolf erupted in a burst of writhing hooks and knives. Slowly, I watched as the front half reformed into a spiked mess that somewhat resembled a wolf. Bauble turned and sprinted for Dodge’s table.

Bauble snapped on of the remotes up at random, jabbing at the buttons. A moment later, she vanished to a pocket dimension.

The Behemini took a few more pounding steps, before crouching down and forcing Hookwolf between his hands. The bristling blades shifted between the obsidian colored claws. Behemini’s jagged fingers didn’t bend, forcing the robot to hold Hookwolf between its giant palms.

Behemini rose Hookwolf off of the ground, lifting the metal wolf over its head. Reaching the peak point, the robot slammed its hands downwards, letting go of Hookwolf.

Hookwolf didn’t fall.

The metal wolf had shifted its shape, burying thousands of tiny hooks into the nooks and crannies of Behemini’s finger. It resembled a serpent now, a serpent with the head of a snarling wolf. It’s tail dangled in the air for a moment, before weaving itself between Behemini’s fingers.

The robot flung its arm out to the side, failing to dislodge the serpentine Hookwolf. It’s other hand came over, obsidian fingers dragging along the arm, pushing against Hookwolf. The wolf’s head shifted, narrowing enough to slide between the fingers trying to shove it off. It widened again, claws hooking into the fingers of the second hand. The serpent seemed to shrink, it’s form thinning as it grew longer. It weaved itself through the fingers of Behemini’s other hand.

Hookwolf’s body pulled taught as Behemini tried to separate its hands. The hands stopped, failing to separate with Hookwolf having bound its hands. A mechanical whine and a low sound of metallic groaning filled the air. Hookwolf stretched further then was natural. Metal ground against metal, and Behemini pulled Hookwolf tight. It rose its knee, slamming Hookwolf down against it and then past it. Hookwolf snapped into two, it’s metallic form dangling from both hands.

Behemini pried the metal monster off of its  hands, flinging it into the forest surrounding the clearing.

A flash of something tan stretched out along Behemini, slinging itself further up the robot. Skinslip. Toy Soldier hadn’t even noticed, scanning the clearing for the next Nine member.

“Toy, Skinslip is climbing up your mech. Deal with the problem.”

Toy Soldier nodded, and Behemini moved to swat the bundle of flesh off of its arm. Skinslip fell off before Behemini even made contact.

A strip of skin shot up, wrapping around one of Behemini’s fingers. He swung, letting his skin’s grip unravel as he flew higher into the air. His skin shot out again, clinging onto the jagged spikes that jutted out of the robot’s head.

Skinslip avoided the next attempt to swipe him off, shooting another length of his doughy, sloughing skin onto the hand. Skinslip rode the hand, letting himself be carried away. He rose higher and higher into the air, the other hand following just behind to block Skinslip from escaping.

The skin monster jumped off the hand, shooting and stapling his skin to Behemini’s horn. Skinslip swung, slamming into the red eye that held the cockpit. The thick red plastic didn’t bend. Skinslip’s body unraveled, revealing a green beaker. Bonesaw’s work.

Skinslip slammed the beaker into the red plastic. The beaker’s contents came out bubbling, splashing onto the screen. Slowly, the green liquid spread, eating away at the plastic.

Skinslip avoided the last few attempts to knock him off, and then swung into Behemini’s cockpit.

Toy Soldier was dead.

I sighed. I would have to pull his clone out later, after I harvested his corpse’s brain. It was standard procedure. He had been a long running member, but I wasn’t particularly attached.

I toggled the cameras around. Jack Slash and Bonesaw were still out of sight, hiding somewhere. Pyrotechnical’s hand was shaking as she kept her head on a constant swivel. Her knuckles were tight around her fun. Big Rig’s drones still swirled around him in an angry swarm. He sent a trio to cut through Night Hag... who was standing outside my building. A large puddle of darkness surrounded her, slowly inching forward and blackening whatever it hit, shriveling it into a distorted mockery of itself. The drones sliced through her, and she shattered into a burst of black shards, which stabbed into the ground. A moment later, Night Hag rose from the ground she had distorted, a feral grin with too much teeth spreading across her face.

Another Drone sheered into her, and she splintered into a storm of tiny black shards.

Night Hag rose again, this time behind the drone that had killed her. She grabbed the drone, pulling it down so that it was below her head. Its clawed hand grasped at Night Hag, it’s saw buzzing furiously. A second drone sliced through Night Hag again, and she shattered into shards.

She rose behind the second drone, grabbing it and shoving it into the first. Sparks flew as the buzzsaw hit the drone, and a moment later,  the first drone spiraled down into the ground and died.

The third drone sawed through her, and then accelerated forward. It didn’t matter, Night Hag still appeared behind it. Sparks flew as the saw was pressed against the metal door of my building. The second drone pierced Night Hag again. She appeared behind that drone again, slamming it into the metal door. She held both drones against the door, both of their buzzsaws grinding against the door.

She wouldn’t get through the metal, it was too thick. The building was flooded with a neurotoxin anyways, so it wouldn’t matter if they could get in; they wouldn’t be getting out.

Something flickered on one of the screens. It was the one that had Pyrotechnical and her darkened area. My eyes widened, watching as a figure quietly stepped up beside Pyrotechnical. She jumped, turning and raising her gun. The figure slammed a machete into it, knocking it to the floor. The figure flung its wrist out to the side, it’s arm subtly moving while it seemed to speak to Pyrotechnical. She was frozen in shock, staring with wild eyes at the figure. His arm lowered back to his side after several moments, and he took a few steps back. He gave a bow, and Pyrotechnical’s hands shot up to her throat.

The figure rose, pulled out an object, and vanished.

Pyrotechnical slumped over a few moments later, dead.

Pyrotechnical has been worth at least two Toy Soldiers. She had been a cheerful ray of sunshine, and she didn’t manage to offend me with her general existence. It was a shame she had been taken out, I’d have to activate her clone after this all blew over.

Something caught my eye on the screen. Words were scratched into the wall behind Pyrotechnical’s body. They were hard to read in the dim lighting, but it wasn’t hard to make out the scratchy letters.

MAGNO ANIMO MORS

All great minds die.

Jack Slash had teleported away. Jack Slash has teleported. Jack Slash had access to Dodge’s pocket dimensions.

I spun around, eyes scanning over every corner of the room. No unexpected guest had gotten in. I shifted around, one hand gripping Pyrotechnical’s gun, the other clutching onto Dodge’s remote. I kept my magnum opus, my artificial brain, between my feet. I had worked with Dodge. I knew his tech better. I had the leg up. I knew what his dimensions held. I had the upper hand.

I glanced back at the screen to see carnage unfold.

One of the legs of Big Rig’s scaffolding tower collapsed. The tower shifted suddenly at the lack of a crucial support leg. It seemed to move in slow motion. The tower tipped over, Big Rig’s arm stretched out in vain for a support rail. It slipped past his fingers, and he slammed into the back of the drones. The drones were pushed somewhat by the sudden contact, they shot forward a tiny bit. There was nothing but open air separating Big Rig from the whirring mass of buzzsaws.

And then, a moment later, not even that.

I had a clone for Big Rig too. I had a clone for everyone in Toybox. They were all hidden in the same dimension Glace ruled over.

A blaring alarm filled me with an intense sense of dread. My eyes flicked to the cameras inside my building. The door was still firmly shut, but Night Hag was inside. Her dark distortion slowly creeped out from her, gradually taking inch by inch of my office and corrupting it. A few minutes later, she collapsed. She shattered into a thousand shards as she hit the ground, and rose from her distortion anew. She stood there for a few more minutes, before collapsing again. Her distortion steadily creeped up the hall in those few minutes.

Night Hag was effectively immune to my neurotoxin gas. Night Hag had gotten into my office. Night Hag was effectively immortal.

Before I could press the button on Dodge’s remote, a masculine voice spoke from behind me and sent shivers down my spine, “Hello doctor. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to get an appointment.”

Jack Slash was in the panic room.