Death of Matthias.

Night had fallen and all was silent. Three moons were risen, but only two shone, one half, the other crescent, not allowing much light to seep into the pitch blackness; in this part of the countryside, the only light was from the moons and from the thousands upon thousands of gently twinkling stars.
The serenity was interrupted suddenly. A flash of bright blue bit through the calm darkness. For a moment, everything went silent again, almost mockingly; then the light appeared again, this time remaining. The silence, too, was shattered by a blood-curdling scream, half of agony, half of fear.
A dark figure leapt, screeching, from the center of the illumination, followed by rattling, white-hot chains. The shape hit the ground and rolled, the chains running out of slack just before sinking into his soft flesh. Then, just as abruptly as the light had appeared, it vanished.
The figure panted heavily, sounding vaguely reminiscent of an asthmatic that had just completed a marathon race while holding their breath. After a few moments, the breathing became normal enough to produce sounds vocally; the instant it did another scream cut the air, then another, then another. The screams eventually broke down into murmured swear words, then into the original silence.
The voice had proved that whoever lay on the ground was, indeed, a who and not a what. The voice was deep enough to be noticeably male, somewhere in his lower twenties, but with a twinge to it that denoted a lifetime of suffering. The man's hair was oily, ragged and tousled, a reddish-brown color (not that it could be noticed in this amount of visibility) with a hint of blue at the tips. His skin was a charred red color with the occasional chunk of black, and slick with sweat. The entirety of his right arm was made of an apparently light metal, coated in buttons and dials. It was obvious, however, the machine no longer worked, as a huge spike was driven through part of it every few inches, the first in the palm of the hand and the last in the shoulder. The figure lay on the ground, naked, shivering, and still breathing unevenly. His eyes deep green eyes opened slowly, pupils wildly contracting and dilating. After a seeming eternity, he opened his mouth and breathed a single syllable.
"... Free..."
His world became blackness as unconsciousness claimed him.

"Stay out, filth."
Matthias hit the floor hard, rolled a few feet, and laid still, coated in darkness. Once the guards had left, however...
"BLARGH!"
He vomited. It wasn't the quiet, liquidy-sounding vomiting, either. It was the full-effect, gagging and belching and screaming-in-between-barf-ejections kinda vomit. At some point, it stopped being a puddle and became, to Matthias, anyway, a small pond.
"Christ on a bun..."
He vomited slightly more.
"I can't believe the bastard KISSED me! I mean, one would think he'd try and compensate for his EXTREMELY girly appearance by acting more... heterosexual."
He stood up, realized he was talking to himself, and shifted to inner-monologue mode.
How did he do that? he asked himself, and the usually-silent computer in his head. He hadn't actually been drunk; he'd probably have died consuming as much alcohol as his little glass-castle would suggest. He poured most of it out the window. Sure, he'd taken a sip or two, but not enough to impair his fighting skills that dramatically... and the Shrike hadn't just beaten him, he'd embarrassed him.
"Oh, he'll pay alright."
The signal. He had to wait for the signal. Miraye was still gunna give the signal. Gotta get back inside. But now he wasn't allowed to cause a scene. No more scenes. Right.
He began scaling the stones of the wall. Halfway up, something crossed his mind.
"Why the Hell didn't I draw my sword?!"

Psycho, propane, cocaine, crazy.

"HEY! Hey, you! Yeah... gimme thommadat... thtuff... yah... da green thtuff... that'th it... thank you..."
Matthias flagged down a waiter-type-guy and took another glass of the green, delicious alchohol. He'd been knockin' 'em back
like it was going out of style all night, and after the third or fourth cup he thought it would be an incredibly good idea to build a
tiny castle out of his used glasses. So far he'd built the main body of the castle and three of the four towers, as well as indented
a little moat in the floor and filled it with wine. People were actually stopping to admire the rather odd piece of architecture.
"Yeah... yeah, ith good, in't it? I made it mythelf... out of ROCKTH!"
After this outburst, the partygoers started to veer away from Matthias. With good reason, I suppose. A loud, heavily-slurred cyborg
is something you might want to avoid.
He began stumbling around the dancefloor, gazing at the various beautiful ladies. A smile crossed his dulled, completely
drunk face. He nodded, giggling, then slammed directly into a young girl wearing a mask. He found himself checking her out until
she started talking.
"Good Lord. You're hammered."
Matthias took great offense to this. "THAT ITH A FILTHY LIE. I am... I am alwayth a rethponthible driver. I have... I have had a few
drinkth. Not many, though. I'M FINE, FARRARRARRAGO."
"... I'm Miraye."
He scowled. "That'th what you'd LIKE me to believe."
"You're an idiot."
"DRUNK LIKE A FOX!"
"What?"
"I gotta go now."
Matthias stumbled off into the crowd, leaving the dumbfounded Miraye behind. He stumbled, inconveniently enough, right into Larkin.
The cyborg's face lit up. "HEY! It'th mah buddy! Hi buddy!"
Larkin sneered, his eyes becoming slits of rage. "What are you doing here?"
"I... I am FLYING A JETPLANE."
Larkin opened his mouth to ask what a jetplane was when Matthias socked him right in the teeth. He sprawled onto the floor.
"DON'T TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER THAT WAY!"
The Shrike scrambled to his feet and delivered a knee to Matthias' gut, then a hook to his cheek, sending him stumbling backward.
Eventually, he lost his balance and fell.
"Oh. You are THO fucked."

Wooties.

"I propose everyone changes. I'll go find something for Farrago." Matthias sighed with relief. Beating up witches, that was no problem, but actually hunting down a dress... "I suggest you shut the tents tightly and be cautious. Matty might be that kind of a person."
He opened his mouth to protest, then silenced, realizing that if they'd left the flaps open, he probably would have peeked in on them. Whatever. "Alright, I'm guessing you girls can handle the whole getting-into-the-ball thing on your own." No one was listening, but that didn't stop him from talking. "I'll see you there, assuming I'm not imprisoned by that point."
He spun and took off into the darkness of the forest.

"Booyaka."
The night was freezing, and ice-cold air blew into him, throwing back his trenchcoat and sweeping his already unkempt hair. He crouched in a window, nearly invisible; the light was all on the inside of the little... SWAR-AY... anyone who looked toward the window would have their sight disrupted. Light's funny that way. Either way, Matthias was nearly invisible, sitting on one of the holes-in-the-wall Larkin tried to pass off as windows.
"Jeez, lookit 'em all... they're like maggots."
That's the first thing that struck him; the mingling, talking, moving humans were like hoardes of brightly-colored, writhing maggots. He looked around, spotting Miraye, Stelon, Imera and Farrago (still clutching her bear in one hand). He saw Miraye disappear off into the crowd.
Suddenly, the entire place roared! Hands went up and howls of delight cut the air. Matthias' heart skipped a beat; they'd suddenly yelled, he thought he'd been spotted. Realizing that wasn't it, he relaxed a bit and followed the crowd's gaze, only to tense up again. Larkin the Shrike, in all his flamboyant 'glory', and the nervous-as-usual, terrified looking Tic child. The dictator straightened up, raising both of his hands and closing his eyes, one would imagine for the dramatic effect. It provided just the distraction Matthias required; he leapt down from the sill, flaring his trenchcoat like wings and landing more or less gently (or at least not fatally) on the ground.
He frowned to himself. "What, is he gunna announce his and Tic's wedding plans?"

"Aright, men, this won't be easy," he said to the group consisting ENTIRELY OF WOMEN. "'cuz witches have a tendency to cast spells. Remember, if I get turned into a newt... what the Hell is a newt, anyway? I always pictured it as a goat."
He looked at the group, all of which stared at him as if he was insane (odds are he was).
"Alright. BREAK!"
He leapt back and took a running leap into the middle of the camp, tackling a particularly rotund witch. He drew back his hand and delivered several jabs to the hag's face. She had no idea what was going on.
Stelon blinked, then looked over to Miraye, who shook her head in disdain. Farrago stared at the 'battle', then whispered something incomprehensible to her bear.
"YEAH! THIS IS FOR DOROTHY!"
Once his current target was thoroughly unconscious, he leapt to his feet and punched another witch, a right hook to the cheekbone. She went down like a sack of rocks. He turned, dropping his left shoulder to just barely dodge a fireball, and dropkicked the last remaining witch (Either it was a very small camp or it was late and all the other ones are asleep.)
"Aright. You gals are the fashion crew, scrounge a dress; way I see it, none of the circus tents these green porkers are wearing'll be Farrago's size." He delivered a boot to the barely-conscious dropkicked witch.

He's stopping the rhino from charging! BA DA TSCH

Matthias looked up, eager to escape the current situation with the giggling Miraye. "We're going back to the castle, Farr."
She flinched, hugging Merlin close. "Why?!"
"There's gunna be a ball there. I'm'a get mah boogie on, and beat the f'nuck outta Larkin, as he'll invariably be there." He cracked his knuckles ominously.
"Oh... alright..."
"We need to get you a dress. But, seeing as I know nothing about girly-stuff, you're gunna hafta pick it out." He shrugged, then handed her his trenchcoat. "Wear this 'till we get you somethin' to cover your wings... if we're goin' into town, we need to keep a low profile."

Oh, the mother insults.

Matthias grinned. "MY MOTHER MAY NOT'VE LIKED ME, BUT YOURS SURE SEEMED TO!"

Oh, the taunting. It is horrible.

"Wait, I get to be surrounded by women, beat up Larkin, save the Tic kid, AND find the Sink if I agree to follow you to this little dance?"
He asked it rhetorically, everyone understood that much. "Groovy. Sounds like a party."
They started walking along. "I'm'a get mah GROOVE on t'night. BOOYAKA, yo!"
"Don't talk." Miraye shook her head.
"You gotta learn to lighten up, pinky-"
She grabbed him by the front of the shirt. "DON'T call me pinky."
He blinked twice behind his thick goggles. "Ghods, why are you so cranky? We gunna go party like it's 1999 tonight! 'sides, we're savin' the li'l Tic child."
She let him go. "Why would I care?"
"You seemed awful... yellish and loud when I mentioned him. More so than just repaying a favor. Methinks you gotta crush."
Miraye spun around and punched him square in the face. His head snapped back, surprised, leaving him unguarded for another two hits, both in the gut, then an uppercut to the chin. He hit the ground rather hard.
"Uhm... ow."
She continued walking. Farrago, Imera and Stelon stood rather stunned. Well, Imera and Stelon did; Farrago was talking to Merlin again. She does that a lot.
Matthias wobbled to his feet, then motioned for Farrago to follow... he walked behind Miraye, keeping a safe distance.
"Tic and Miraye, sittin' in a tree... F-U-C-K-I-N--"
She bolted toward him, fist drawn back. He laughed... well, less of a laugh, more of a mocking "Hoo hoo" and took off, trenchcoat flaring behind him.

An ally, anger and explosions.

"Hold up, pinky!"
Miraye scowled, and turned to face Matthias.
"Don't call me pinky."
"Sorry. Where are you headed?"
"Not that it's any business of yours, but I'm going to the ball at the castle."
"There's a ball at the castle? Who all is gunna be there?"
"Probably a few nobles and the people who live around here, idiot."
Matthias nodded, then looked to Farrago. "Up for a ball?"
"Yes, Merlin, I agree, she's quite rude- huh?" Her eyes shone. She'd never been to a ball before. "Yes."
"Alrighty. Anyway, to answer your question, I'm lookin' for the Sink so I can find out what kinda info they have on Larkin. And maybe help them plan an attack or two."
This caused Miraye to pause. "What do you have against Larkin?"
"Well, he locked me up twice, locked poor Farrago over there up-" the girl couldn't hear him, she was talking to Merlin again, "-without feeding her, oppresses his people, and I've got this theory that he molests this kid I met named Tic. 'sides, he pisses me off-"
"YOU KNOW TIC!?"
Miraye had frozen as soon as she heard the name and slowly turned to face the blue-haired stranger.
"Yeah, I met him a while ag-"
"WHERE THE HELL IS HE?!"
Matthias blinked behind his huge goggles. "Last time I saw him he was in one of the guest rooms in Larkin's-"
By now, Miraye had reached up and grabbed the front of his trenchcoat, and was throttling him.
"DID LARKIN DO ANYTHING TO HIM!? I'll kill him if he did..."
"He looked in pretty good shape... although Larkin did have him in a bedchamber, which comes back to my theory of molestation-"
Matthias paused and looked at the rose-haired girl. Her eyes had shifted color. A nearby tree exploded, the remains catching fire.
"Can I trust you on this?" she said through clenched teeth.
"I'm tellin' the truth..."
"COME ON," she scowled, walking down the path. Matthias shrugged, motioning for Farrago to follow. Stelon and Imera followed Miraye obediently, closer and closer to the castle.

"So," Matthias said, looking up at the slightly straining Farrago, "How do we get to Larkin?"
"I'm not really sure," she replied. "I heard of something called the Sink that he doesn't like."
Matthias blinked. "Larkin doesn't like sinks?"
"No, THE Sink. I heard rumors from the scientist a long time ago... they're an underground rebellion against the government."
"Is Larkin a governor?"
Farrago nodded silently. Matthias hmm'd, then looked down. He was a few hundred feet up... if he were afraid of heights, he'd probably have shat himself by now.
"So... where do we find this Sink?"
"I don't know."
He looked down again, and spotted three little dots moving on the empty path toward The Shrike's castle. He frowned.
"Hey... li'l people down there. Maybe they'd know about the Sink?"
Farrago shrugged her shoulders, throwing herself off balance for a second. "We could try."
They swooped down and landed on the dirt road. Or, more descriptively, Farrago dropped down and landed, letting go of Matthias roughly 10 feet before they hit the ground. He crumbled into a heap.
The people they'd spotted were three young girls. The one leading looked to be about sixteen, and her hair was a rather frightening pink color not found in nature. Matthias wondered how it got that way, this place was obviously way too primitive to have invented hair dye yet. On her left and slightly behind was another girl, looking to be about the same age, maybe a year older, her hair a more natural reddish blonde color. But then, it's not hard to get more natural than bright pink hair. The third, on her right, was the youngest of the three, that much was obvious. Her hair was jet black.
The pink-haired girl raised an eyebrow as Farrago gracefully settled on the ground. "What the Hell?"
Matthias scrambled to his feet in an almost anime-esque way. "Hallo!" he said, grinning. "Would you happen to know anything about the Sink?"
"Who're you?" the youngest asked, perking a brow.
"Me? I'm Matthias Davidius Holmes."
He waited for Farrago to introduce herself. She was busy talking to Merlin.
"Oh. And she's Farrago. We just busted outta Larkin's dungeon and now we're looking for the Sink. Who are you, and do you know anything about them?"

Potassium benzoate?

Farrago peered around the room, a little disturbed. All these… weapons! Matthias, however, seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Look at this. Look at it all. It's beautiful." Well, a lot of these things WERE rather shiny. Farrago shrugged, and followed Matthias’ enthusiastic progress with wide eyes.

“He sure does seem happy, doesn’t he?” Farrago murmured to Merlin, stepping around a pile of arms. Matthias waded happily through the sea of weapons. Striding over to the wall, Matthias plucked a silver bow from its hook. "Here, take this. Look for arrows."

After Farrago had found what she deemed enough arrows, she stopped to look at her bow. She turned the thing over in her hands, and a flash of memory blinked behind her eyes. Silver… it was so familiar. Sinking against the wall, she squinted.

“Where do we remember this from, Merlin? Where?” she said quietly. “Oh, bother. Bother and bump, I say.” She shook her head. “It’s too hard! Too much. Dammit-“

“Yes!” Matthias’ yell of triumph tore Farrago from her conversation. “I HAVE THE POWERRRRRRRR!" The sword was, apparently, reunited with its master. Farrago couldn’t help but grin; it was overwhelmingly impossible not to, considering how happy Matthias was. He did some fumbling around with his sword and a crossbow, and then turned to look at Farrago. "Well, let's go."

Farrago nodded, and the pair made their way back through the piles of weaponry and out the door, passing the sleeping (and just plain unconscious) guards easily. They walked in silence for a long time, following random paths through the dungeon’s mazelike corridors. After what seemed like forever and two days, four hours and fifteen minutes, they came to a flight of stone stairs. Turning to face each Matthias, Farrago stopped. “Well. It’s only uphill from here, no?”

In the shadows, Farrago couldn’t see Matthias’ expression, but she got the impression that he grinned. “It certainly is. Let’s go.”

As she made her way up the stairs behind Matthias, Farrago could tell there were windows in the corridor ahead-real light! How exciting, Farrago thought, and she couldn’t help but jump a little, happily. This was it. She was actually on her way to freedom. Barely able to comprehend it, Farrago moved her wings a little. The prospect of fresh air and the chance to stretch her wings excited her. A lot. A very large amount of lot. And to fly again! Insanely cool.

The last of the steps faded away under her feet, and Farrago peered expectantly around her. They seemed to be in an empty corridor, and to their left side was a row of windows. Farrago walked up to one, and looked longingly out on the natural world for the first time in years. It was apparently the early hours of morning, and the light was clear and bright. “I wish we could just climb out this window and get out of here once and for all… but we seem to be on a rather high floor and-wait!”

Matthias looked at her questioningly. “Wait?”

“I can fly! It makes no difference whether we’re a million feet up, or two feet up… I can fly!!” Practically laughing, Farrago looked at Matthias with bright eyes. “Are you up for it?”

Matthias grinned. “Absolutely.”

“Then let’s go.” Farrago strode over to the window, looking for a latch of some kind. She found just what she was looking for at the bottom of the window frame. Nimble white fingers twisted the latch, almost surprised to find it unlocked-but then again, this seemed like a pretty unused corridor. The window swung outward, leaving a highly inviting square opening in the wall. Farrago grinned, and beckoned for Matthias to join her by the window. “Here-climb out a bit, stand here on this ledge…” The tall, unusual man climbed backwards through the window, standing carefully on a small ledge outside the window. Farrago slipped past him and took flight. For a few seconds, she fell, unused to being able to stretch her wings out all the way, let alone fly, but soon she was used to the feeling. Her wingspan was ultimately impressing, and she looked at home in the air. Moonlight was glinting off iridescent black feathers and hair, and Farrago was an altogether sparkly image.

Farrago flew as close as she could to Matthias without hitting her wings against the castle wall, which, unfortunately, was a few feet away. “You’re going to have to jump,” Farrago said apologetically. Matthias looked like he didn’t like the idea very much, and frankly, neither did Farrago… but hell, what can you do? Farrago held her arms outstretched, and Matthias leapt into them, dropping only a few inches before she caught him. “You’re a bit heavy,” Farrago grinned, and flew happily away from the castle. Ah, freedom! Such bliss. She laughed and flew happily away from the sickeningly large castle that had been both a prison and a home to both of them-if only temporarily.

Potassium benzoate?

Matthias turned the corner slowly, humming the theme to Mission Impossible, back pressed up against the cold dungeon wall. Dun, dun, dun. DUHDUHDUH dun dun, dun dun DUN DUN DUN. DUHDUHDUH-
Two guards sitting in front of the heavy wooden door. They weren't particularly attentive; one was asleep., the other on his way there. Matthias turned back around and walked over to Farrago, smiling. "And now... we WAIT."
And wait they did. Not long, though, ten minutes, fifteen tops. Farrago sat, jibbering nonsensically to her bear, which, Matthias found by listening to her, was named Merlin.
"Alrighty. I think they're both asleep now... stay here."
Silently (or as silently as one can be in huge, studded, chained-up boots), he walked past the sleeping guards, pushed the door open just wide enough for him to slip through, and did so.
His eyes watered at the pure, amazing beauty of the room. It was truly a paradise. Weapons lined the walls and the roof. Piles of swords, maces, and various other generally unpleasant objects reached from the floor to the weapon-laden roof. He dropped to his knees, awestruck by the pure amazing...ness of the room.
"Farrago!" he half-whispered, trying to get the sound across the hall without waking up the guards. "Farrago, commere! Be really quiet, though-"
"Hrm?" a guard woke with a start, then turned and looked at Matthias. The cyborg was positioned half-hanging out the door, and swung his steel arm backward, cracking the man square in the face. He slumped to the floor, not going to wake up again any time soon.
"Farr, QUICK!"
The girl snuck across the hall and into the room.
"Look at this. Look at it all. It's beautiful."
She gazed around, not quite as smitten as Matthias had been.
"Here," he said, handing her a bow of pure silver he picked off the wall. "Take this. Look for arrows." He turned and began digging through piles, sliding daggers and shurikens into his trenchcoat pockets.
Farrago sank to the floor, talking to Merlin. She was well into the middle of a conversation when she was suddenly cut off by a scream of "YES!"
She turned to look at Matthias. He stood, holding a shining, almost crystallic blue blade above his head. "I HAVE THE POWERRRRRRRR!"
He sheathed it across his back, then grabbed a crossbow and slipped it into his coat. "Well, let's go."

Hypochloric acid! WEEE

Matthias frowned. He'd known the girl for less than 10 minutes, and already she was on the floor curled into a terrified screaming ball. He seemed to have that effect on people.
'The Watchers' she'd said. At least three times. What Watchers? Only Watchers Matthias knew of were the ones from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And, somehow, he doubted she was all that up on the WB Fall lineup.
He stared down at Farrago. She had her eyes tightly shut; she was scowling, tears sliding through her closed eyelids. He winced a little, feeling guilty. Being locked in a dungeon for as long as she had would probably make him more than a bit loopy, too...
"Get up off the floor," he said softly. The normal ringing joy and the cutting anger were both gone from his voice, it was simple, gentle, understanding. "I don't think you're crazy. And I'm damn certain I can fight off the Watchers, whatever they are."
She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. "They're already here. They're watching, they're always watching."
"If they do anything, I'll kick their asses back to England."
She shook her head, unsure of what England was. "No, they never do anything, they just watch..."
"Well, then, why do you fear them?"
"They watch!"
"And that's all they do! They won't hurt you. They can't. And if they so much as try..."
Matthias jerked his arm a certain way. It transformed, plates shifting, expanding, and contracting, until it became a huge chaingun barrel. The front spun, not shooting due to the fact it had no ammo. Pulled off the effect, though.
"Now, let's go."
Hesitantly, she rose to her feet. He nodded, and the two of them walked more through the darkened halls, coming ever closer to his stolen sword.

Pasturized processed fat free cheese.

Farrago placed her finger in her mouth, laughed a bit at Matthias's reaction, and slowly drew it out. For a split second, he was going to take it was a come on; after all... she had been down here alone a long time-
DAMMIT! his conscience screamed at him. That's illegal! She's like 16! 'sides, look at those wings. They're all... creepy. And you have more important things to think about. You gotta get your sword, dipshit.
Matthias shook his head. No perversion, mind on the mission. Right.
"To answer your question," he said, "We're goin' to go find my sword. Awesome blade... three feet or so long, a broadsword, but light as a feather... bought it from a blind hermit. He put some kinda spell on it or summat... when it hits something, it makes it colder."
She blinked, then laughed again, rather abruptly. Matthias raised an eyebrow.
"Uhhh... right."
Realization suddenly hit the cyborg; it seemed to have a tendancy to wait until several minutes after things were said or done before he understood them.
"Wait. That nancyboy bastard was tampering with genetics, then locked you down here and didn't even bother to feed you?"
The girl seemed a little hurt by this sudden, rash description... she nodded nevertheless.
"Oh yes, he's definitely going to pay." Matthias's hatred was building. Larkin the Shrike had gone too far. The flamboyance was livable, Matthias was no homophobe. But the oppression pissed him off. Locking him up TWICE added to it. And now keeping this poor winged girl down here for that long, without so much as table scraps? The straw that broke the horse's back.
"Come on," he said, mood suddenly shifted from typical and happy-go-lucky to uncharacteristically serious. "The noble who locked you down here goes by the name of Larkin. He's a ruler of some sort, he has more prisoners than Brodie has comics, and he pisses me off. Let's get my sword and get the hell out of here."
He started walking down the hall. Quietly, slightly confused (and understandably so), Farrago followed. "Who's Brodie?"

"Alrighty... get comfy, we may be here a while."
Farrago looked at him strangely.
"I'm, as it's by now pretty obvious, not from around here. I come from another planet... possibly even another dimension. See, I was working on this project, a teleporter was my original intent... a method of transferring matter from point A to point B in nanoseconds. My original design was gettin' along pretty well... and I was gunna sell this thing. Makes me da big bucks, yo.
"So, anyway, my original plan was to test the teleporter by sending a hamster to Kansas. Seemed to work pretty well, I had it set to 10 times the power actually required. Then, I planned on sending myself to Mexico.”
The girl stared at him, completely confused.
“I like tacos.”
He said this as if it answered everything. She still looked entirely lost, but he seemed not to notice anymore, and went on.
“So, I crank up the power to as much as it can go. Figuring my body mass, along with my cybernetic arm, I had just enough energy transport me, not even near the 10 times I had for the hamster. But I tried anyway, ‘cuz I’m crezzeh like that. I pressed DA BIG BLOO BUTTON, and next thing I knew, my geeky arse was a few feet away from a hunchy albino.
"Needless to say, I hauled arse on outta there faster than you could say 'Bananarama'. But please don't. Anyway, I'm tryin' to find a way outta there, maybe get myself a donut, rebuild my machine, and teleport back to Earth. I'm runnin' through this hellhole, and what to my wondering eyes do appear, but an arseload of guards, and later, a queer. That Michael Jackson-wannabe happened to be Larkin the Shrike, he locked me up for... well, bein' in his castle without permission. I busted outta there, cracked open a coupl'a guard's skulls, and almost found my way out again. He caught me and locked me up again. Deja Vu. So, it takes me a while longer, but I get out, my killcount up to at least a dozen by now. Wipe out another half dozen or so guards, then I wind up in this room with this little boy. Looked to be around fifteen, possibly sixteen. Says his name is Tac or summat. So prettyboy shows up at the door, whines about breaking a nail or some shit like that, and then breaks the doors down. The little Tictac- TIC! That's his name. Tic is sittin' there in the corner, terrified (he was pretty scared of me for some reason, understandably so, after I crakced open that guard's head right in front of him. WHAM!) Anyway, Larkin and I go at it, he's girlyfightin', pullin' hair and scratching and- OK, if we had actually fistfought, that's prolly how it woulda gone. But the pussy came at me with an axe. So I slugged 'im in the gut, and he nearly killed me. Tic saved my life, distracted 'im when it counted. I took off, wound up at the front door, came back for my sword, and here I am."

I like pie.

"Why, hello. Have you come to take me away?"
Matthias stood bolt upright suddenly, drawing his fist back defensively at the noise. Everyone in their right mind would be asleep at this hour! Jesus, even the guards were!
He slowly glanced around, muscles tensing. A little girl was CHASING HIM!
He rotated around, throwing a punch. And hit dead air.
"Woo... calm down, Matt..." he said to himself, pushing his hair back. It kinda just... poofed right back up into it's original position. "Paranoia is bad. Now, who said that?"
"Me!"
He turned to follow the voice. A young girl, sixteen, maybe seventeen, stared back at him. Her eyes were a strange blue color, very deep, and accented by her incredibly pale complexion. Everyone seemed to be pale on this planet, Matthias thought, frowning. He was always the pale one back where he came from...
She was considerably hot, he thought, but gave off that creepy "I-belong-in-a-sanitarium" vibe. The teddy bear she kept babbling incomprehensibly to didn't really help. Her hair seemed to do things that defied gravity- no, wait... those were wings. She had black hair and black wings sticking out of her back.
Matthias raised his eyebrow.
"What's with the wings?"
The girl paused, considering, then replied, "I... don't know."
Matthias blinked. The girl certainly didn't look like much of a threat, and she must have done something to piss off Larkin... which was always OK in his book.
"Uh... you need outta there?"
He took a few steps back, turned his cybernetic arm toward the cage walls, and charged. WHAM. He leapt forward, throwing all his weight into it (which is a considerable amount). The impact shook seemingly the entire dungeon.
Three or four charges later, the door was down.
"What's your name, anyway?"
"I am Farrago. Who are you?"
"I'm Matthias. Well, grab your bear and stay close. We're gettin' my sword and we're gettin' outta here."

Night had fallen. Well, as night as you can get in this place... there was no goddamn sun. This brought a barrage of question's to Matthias's mind, the most persistent being: If this dark world has no sun, where do the moons gain the luminescence they have, especially the seven being enough to completely light the land?
Ah well. Some things just weren't meant for Matthias to figure out. Pickles, for instance... do they put the cucumbers in the brine and then ship them, or do they make the pickles first? Not worth losin' sleep over, either way.
Most of the guards had gone to sleep. Stupid; one would wish one's castle to be more well guarded during the night, would one not? Bah, Larkin was strange, to say the least... poor Tic. Pity and slight guilt flooded Matthias's mind. The poor kid, in Larkin's custody. He saved my life, the scientist thought, taking a corner and slowing down slightly so he wouldn't pass out and DIE from all this sudden exercise. He saved my life, and I left him up there with that axe-wielding nancyboy.
"Zzzz... POTATOES! Errrn."
I'm pretty sure at that you'd stop and get kinda confused, too. Matthias blinked a few times, then peered around the corner. A guard was supposedly on duty... he seemed very... asleep.
He approached the man, smirking. He lifted him up with his metallic right arm, slammed him off the wall, and slapped him quickly three times - well, two slaps and a backhand. The slightly overweight guardsman awoke.
"Whuh?"
"Listen to me, worm."
The guard opened his mouth to scream, and recieved a punch in the face. Followed by three more. His staff was lying on the ground; he must've dropped it while he slept.
"I'm going to ask you a few questions. I want them answered immediatly. Understood?"
The guard nodded, and it wasn't until after he'd said it that Matthias realized just how Arnold Shwartzeneggar-like he sounded just then.
"Alright. Where does Larkin keep the weapons he confiscates off prisoners?"
"Th-the dungeon, I think."
"Is it heavily guarded?"
"Not any more heavily than any other room," the guard said hesitantly.
"How do I get there?"
"Two halls down, to the left. Please let me go."
"One more question," Matthias said, copping a fake German accent. "Hoo iz youh daddy, and what duz he do."
"What?"
WHAM.
Matthias dropped the guard and punched him, full force, across the face. The right hook sent the big man, who smelled vaguely of old pork, to the ground.
"Wooties, time for another dungeon crawl!"
He kicked open a heavy wooden door and leapt down a flight of stairs, nearly killing himself landing.

Matthias took off down the hall, his trenchcoat flaring back behind him. He smiled to himself, then looked at his metallic hand's cold, unfeeling knuckles - the same knuckles he slammed into The Shrike's gut. He smiled wider, extending his arm to clothesline a guard he passed. No reason to it, the guard hadn't even given him a second glance... but hey, he was high on adrenaline. An interesting THUMP sound cut the air when he hit the ground. Most probably unconscious. Matthias was too lazy to turn around and check.

"My, Larkin's been spending a lot of time with that little hoodlum recently," said a maid. She was clad in typical maid clothing, a bland brown dress with a white apron. Her friend, dressed similarly, nodded. "Yes... I hear he used to be in The Sink!"
"NO!"
"Yes!"
The two were both on their hands and knees, polishing the linoleum floor.
WOOOOSH.
An outlandishly dressed man with huge glasses jumped the first maid like a hurdle and continued running down the hall, odd cape waving behind him.
She blinked several times, looking to her friend bewilderedly.

The cyborg continued down the hall, the loud stomping of his boots echoing. The guards somehow managed to fall behind, and Matthias was too adrenaline-up to get tired. He banked a hard left, fell down a flight of steps, stood up, and continued to run. Left, right, left, left, right, jump a maid, left, right, clothesline a guard, right.
VICTORY.
The gargantuan double-doors stood before him, a shining beacon of hope. Freedom, he thought, eyes sparkling. At last! Freedom from this horrib-
A pang of guilt hit him. What about that poor kid, Tic? Stuck with that pedophilic bastard Larkin? And all the guards in there who were still alive...
Realization hit him like a sack of bricks, rocks, pennies, and other various hard things. THEY TOOK HIS SWORD.
He scowled, rage filling him to the brim. They were ALL gunna pay.
He turned away from the doors, glaring into the twisting halls, and screamed.
"You hear me?! You're ALL going to pay!"
No answer, naturally. He didn't expect one.
"I don't care WHO you are! Guards, maids, visitors, and Larkin himself - I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"
He ran back into the corridors he had tried to desperately to escape, with a mission. Not for personal safety, for liberty or freedom... this was about pride.

Matthias looked up suddenly. The doorknob spun, creaking gently, then slowly returned to its original position. Further sounds could be heard from outside in the hall. Never a good sign.
He looked down to the boy. He was terrified... of him, of the guards, of Larkin... he was a scrawny little bundle of fear. For a moment, Matthias found himself wondering if he'd ever been like that.
The left door fell.
He looked up again, peering past the enormous, near-impassable pile of junk to the people beyond the doorway. They were currently working on the other door; it seemed a waste of time to Matthias, but foreign places have foreign customs... and this place was, indeed, quite foreign.
Guards, he thought, snapping back to the situation at hand. Way too many to take on head-to-head... so long as the door remained half-up, he was more or less safe. Or he had an advantage, at least. He could take them one by one.
"FOR ADUN!" he shrieked, pitching an enormous porcelain bowl, formerly filled with fruit, over the pile and out the first door. It caught one of the guards off guard (no pun intended) and sent him sprawling to the floor.

Larkin watched impatiently, scowling and tapping his foot against the floor. The guards worked silently, taking the other door down. He ran his hands up and down the sanded hilt of his axe... torturing this filthy... REBEL... would be to risky. If he'd managed to elude every guard assigned to keep him IN the cell...
He didn't have time for this. "Faster," he sneered. A split second later, Matthias' voice pierced Larkin's head, screaming jibberish. A guard collapsed, shards of broken porcelain scattering in all directions and leaving a white powder all over the his breastplate.
The guards all paused, then, seeing the look on Larkin's face, got back to their work as quickly as possible.
The second door fell.

"Shrike!" Matthias snarled.
"And quick, to boot," he returned. He continued fondling his axe.
Matthias raised his metallic arm, pressing an orange button on it with his other hand. The whole thing shifted shape, parts expanding, parts contracting, parts falling down lower, other parts rising. The arm contorted until it had assumed the shape of a chaingun's barrel.
"COUNT THE SHELLS, MOTHAFU-"
KLIKLIKLIKLIKLIK.
Matthias frowned. No ammo.
He looked up at the door again. Guards were pushing things off the pile, making room for Larkin. The boy, Tic, had backed into a corner, trying to avoid all the mayhem.
The guards surrounded Matthias, their staves trained on him. They made a gap as so their ruler could step into the circle. His orange eyes pierced into Matthias's very soul as he ran his fingertips down the hilt of his axe.
The cyborg looked around, realizing he was cornered.
"Great."

Matthias considered the boy, eyes running up and down him. No way this kid belonged in here... the clothes just didn't seem to fit right. Not size or anything, it was just... like putting a bulldog in a tutu, or something like that.
"I'm a prisoner here."
Matthias heard the quiver in the boy's voice. He was terrified. Understandably so, if the lad had to go through the same stuff he did. Suddenly, Matthias frowned.
"Wait. I'm a prisoner too. How 'come you get the fluffy pink room with the bed and I get the chains and the stupid guards?"
Tic just stood there, staring and shaking slightly, unsure of how to answer.
"Hmm. Would you happen to know where Larkin is? The little prettyboy needs to die."
After a pause, the child managed to stutter "He left to g-go find... you, I guess..."
Matthias frowned. "That ain't good. He'll prolly find out I'm not there and come looking for me... help me barricade the door."
The outlander pushed the heavy bed as best he could from one end of the room toward the door, leaving the bewildered, frightened, and more than a little bit confused Tic standing there.
The outlander frowned. "Well? Come on."
The boy hesitated, then joined the cyborg. They positioned the bed against the door. Matthias continued grabbing foreign objects and stacking them on the bed, adding weight. Moments later, he sat down on what little room was left on the bed and looked at Tic.
"So... what'd you do to get thrown in this hellhole?"