A Trophy from Hate Itself Aug 10, 2019 16:38:47 GMT -6
Post by Vocado on Aug 10, 2019 16:38:47 GMT -6
Thread Power Level: 147,000
Wind whipped the trees while rain soaked the dirt below. Tonight was an intense storm. One of the biggest the western side of the planet had seen in years. Lightning cracked in the distance, and the thunder followed soon after. In the wake of its light stood a lone man, shadowed by the darkness in the dead of night.
Vocado, the one-armed self-exiled prince of House Bonemoon, stood at the gates of a dilapidated old base. It was an ancient facility, built to house fighters for an age long since-past. A blue banner painted onto the side of the cracked stone was losing its luster by the day.
This was the place. Through all his studies and searching, this was the only place it could be. The man cyborgified by Zucceta and saved by Administrator Azure. His mechanical remains were stored here. They had to be.
With a swift motion, he kicked down the imposing blast doors, letting the chilling winds and heavy rain into the musty hangar. The stench of oil and rust permeated the room.
Was it morbid? What he was about to do— wasn’t this graverobbing? Had he thought of this months ago, he’d have dismissed the thought entirely, but tonight was different. There was purpose behind his footfalls.
There was some part of him that knew this was wrong. As he traveled down toward the hall, passing discontinued mech suits and broken computers, he knew his friends would be disgusted. Hell, the person he’d called here probably thought it insanity too. Her worst deed was taking a throne by the rules of their people. What was his?
Whatever it used to be, it was about to be trumped.
For a moment, he waited, scouter actively scanning the inner workings of the base. If any machinery were still active, it’d be easy to deal with, but knowing about it beforehand was for the best.
He tightened his cloak around him as a gust of wind kicked through the open hangar doors, hood draped low over his face as he let his scouter do its work. Which way led to his prize?