The Box 2: Crisis on Box-Earth

The Box 2: Crisis on Box-Earth

>you are Boxtimus Alpha, guardian of the human race, as well as a handful of fluffies living inside of you
>being a mecha and all allows for you to safely contain fragile objects in various compartments and hideaways
>such as, of course, the fluffy ponies
>your catalogue has no explanation for how they found you, but it does know why they entered your box-form, which you take to hide yourself from invading Kolyarn
>the fluffy ponies have a deep-seated instinct to go inside of boxes when they lack a human home
>homes also tend to be large and quadrilateral, much like boxes
>each room usually also has four parallel walls, like a box
>fluffies love boxes by nature
>you’re not sure why
>they even have a sexual fixation on them
>you’ve been unfortunate enough to have to collect well over three hundred and fifty point seven samples of fluffy pony ejaculate
>with this much DNA, you could get to work making clones in no time
>and you probably should, all factors considered
>the fluffies helped defeat an invading Kolyarn just a few days ago
>its vents were clogged, and the fluffies survived the immediate explosion
>there’s no explanation for how, but one isn’t needed
>they were the only thing separating you from the same fate as the Kolyarn, and that’s what matters
>today, however, is uneventful, like the previous few days have been
>you are maintaining your box form, but keeping a watchful eye out for any trouble
>the band of fluffy ponies are giggling and laughing as they play, while others huddle in a nearby corner to sleep
>you’d laugh with them, but you don’t have humor capacitors
>however, you spot something far above
>a distant twinkle
>a star, perhaps?
>no, stars don’t move
>and they certainly don’t move that fast
>nor do they head directly towards you
>in a flash, you transform into your fighting stance, and leap to the side
>the object strikes the earth with incredible force, and you are sent flying from the shockwave
>hopping to your feet, you see that it’s another Kolyarn
>but it’s different
>this Kolyarn is blood-red, and has six more arms than you do
>each is tipped with a different weapon, such as a spear or a sword
>he’s looking around for you, searching
>opting to go for a stealth attack, you perform a flying double-stab
>in a nanosecond, he’s gone
>your swords stick in the ground to the hilt, and you nearly land on your main components
>suddenly, a colossal fist strikes you square in the head, and you’re sent soaring into a junkyard
>you try to speak, but only numbers crackle from your speakers
>”0110111101101000001000000110011101101111011001000010000001110100011010000110000101110100001000000111011101100001011100110010000001110101011011100110010101111000011100000110010101100011011101000110010101100100…”
>before you can even get to your feet, the Kolyarn is on top of you
>he raises two double-edged arms and begins hacking away at your arms, face, and body
>you feel wires fraying deep in your core, and a warning flashes that ARM UNIT #002 has been disconnected from host
>just as quickly, one of your optics is cracked and shattered, and a point is driven into your speakers
>finding unprecedented strength, you drive your remaining arm into the side of the Kolyarn’s head and begin to drill as deep as you can into it
>the effect is minimal, but the Kolyarn staggers, and that’s all you need
>you pull the drill out a begin delivering a series of sweeps and crosses, desperately trying to ward him off
>it barely succeeds, but the Kolyarn is back to his feet in seconds
>you run as fast as your legs can carry you, grabbing a handful of trash from the pile
>while running, you open a hatch in your chest and cram the junk in there
>it’s your power core
>the more organic fuel you have in there, the more power you’ll have
>the trash offers a short reprieve, but you’ll need much more than garbage to give you enough power to defeat this Kolyarn
>suddenly, as though reading your thoughts, you hear the smarty pipe up
>”Bawks-daddeh! Yuu otay?!”
>”Hardly.”
>”You otay? Fwuffies haf toughies! Can hewp!”
>”Toughies can’t help me with this. Organic material is what I need right now, or else I don’t think I’m gonna win.”
>you uproot a tree and put in into the compartment
>temperatures spike in your wires, and your parts begin to move faster
>”Fwuffies am owganic!”
>”How do you know what ‘organic’ is?”
>”Nu mattew! Fwuffies hewp!”
>”No. If you do this, there’s no chance you’ll survive. Even the explosion wasn’t as dangerous as that.”
>”Fwuffies nee’ hewp bawk-daddeh. An’ fwuffies GON’ hewp bawks-daddeh.”
>you sense the fluffies moving from their compartment up, and over, and
>into your power core
>”No! Stop!”
>”Fwuffies hewp!”
>”Fwuffies hewp.”
>”Fwuffies! Go! Hewp bawk-daddeh!”
>your parts start moving faster and faster, electricity crackles across your frame, and you begin to glow red hot
>”That’s enough power! You can stop now! No more of you need to sacrifice yourselves!”
>they either don’t hear you, or they ignore you
>steam begins pouring from all gaps and joints in your system
>your CPU gets overclocked, and everything around you begins to slow to a crawl
>”Wet’s wock, bawks-daddeh.”
>with that, one final fluffy pushes your core to the brink, and your raw power output exceeds the maximum
>breaking the sound barrier, you dash towards the Kolyarn, and ram your remaining arm through it with the force of a collapsing star
>the power of your punch creates a tiny tear in space-time, and the Koyarn begins to spaghettify and spiral into itself
>just as quickly as it starts, it ends, and the tear seals itself
>you collapse as the power begins to fade, and you rest so that your parts don’t melt from the pure heat
>as you drift into standby, you hear voices
>several voices, all at the same time
>”Hewwo, bawk-daddeh!”
>”Fluffies? You survived?”
>”Nu. We take da fawevah sweepies. Check yo’ fiwe diwectowy.”
>you do as they say, and run through you files
>when you get to your mainframe, you find a new sub-folder
>FLUFFY_PONY.zip
>their collective conscience was uploaded into your SSD?
>”Dat’s wight!”
>well, seems they can read your thoughts now
>you transform into a box, and hear laughter and giggling
>”Fankies, bawks-daddeh! Fwuffies can pway now!”
>you transfer the .zip into your Box Form drive
>and, this time, you really do begin to power down
>right before you notice a brand new file appear
>FLUFFY_SEMEN(91).bat
>oh boy