NexThing i realized I was standing before an Archway. Hefty limestone and carnelian squatting either side, I estimated it peaking around ten body lengths above me, criss~Moss shades striking me familiar. A blast of steaMoist emission alerted me to a disturbance in my vicinity. No more than 10 shuffles between the brick wedges, a snout menacinGreeted me, twice my body length -- The Steer: sharpened its ears, blazing eye-lights similar in craze & amBurrow to the Goat'nivorous prior panda singling out my presence. Yikes. How was i going to outrun a 3 story Bull? As it pawed the ground, I realized the Electro-wasp sported a Bow dangling hipside, as large as itself! The Duo charged straight through that molten rockslide it had fried, and its jaw unhinged, gnashing from side to side, lips dripping away...
Again it snorted, this time into the ground to send jagged lumps of earth rippling towards me. The path of razoRidges were too wide to jump aside, so I crouched and opted to try and sail straight above them -- (but I couldn't hurtle chest high) -- feeling them shear threw me about the knees. For raw itches of Agony and shock of immobility, I never saw the Spearheading arrow that splintered through my rib-cage. The force jolted me backward tumbling 'longside the ground, dizzied by clods of dirt among a relentless approach of chip-chopping hooves.
***
Then my body was at rest. Even if my chest flagGrinding to keep up with my heart, & suffocated beneath Voided vision for the third time in what felt like about 5 minutes. Something small and sturdy was crammed through my sternum, making my lungs' function all that much harder. Tentatively, I slid my hand up to test how deep the thing was lodged—only to pass across my chest freely without interruption. Thaaats… good?
That's when I became aware of my lower limbs—which had apparently been numbed enough to elude my nerve endings—and flailed them around to understand where I was. Clinks and flat rattling sounds. Wait, my tailbone was getting greeted by some cylindrical object. My fingers trained over it… solid and riddled with bumps. BlisteRiiide probaBleed--
From the background, Malibu's voice rose like an All-terrain exhaust: "Fer Chrissakes, don't tell me you hurt yourself!"
Huh. I had definitely fallen. But apparently, not very far. I was prostrate on the catwalk, unharmed. So what the hell had I just experienced? Where the fuck had i been? NEVER had i felt urgency, tenderness, or pain balloon to such dynamics!
I pondered disEmbodied words still floating around in my head, slammed in there like a bunch of ninja stars: *..isolated hearts...*more Complex than deprivation? ..* Why was the Wasp slaughtering everyone, but teasing their imaginations beforehand? There was a sort of lava in that Steer's eyes... and the pand*Goata for that matter as well… What spurred them to mutilation? *Alternate incentives... sensory disguised..*
Nuts, the universal Procedure must have some deal to do with it. Can't recall the steps anymore...
"I'm.. ahhh, not in terriB-bled shape," I spoke out in a stupor.
"Ok good, don't move around too much, Pyram. Stay Calm."
I wasn't sure what had gotten hold of me. But it wasn't my pal below who had restrained me from vaulting over the precipice, or opened me to insight. Maybe I'm destined to become stronGlorious! Could totally go for some higher Power already... The transitional swiftness of the discourse sure made me feel handicapped. I sifted back to the Enigma's introductory words: *Explore fires, and then lend something away...* Ambition?
Maybe I could work with the Reasoning if I knew what I was giving away for. But don't look now Voice of Hope, I don't have anything to lend! However it was trying to lead me in the right direction, I could sense that much. Say, wait a minute. You're laying on some kind of log. I rolled my aching butt off and seized it. It felt….. large and metallic. Firepower!
"Hey uhh, I'm not sure what's happening to me," I summarized for Gutt. "One second I was trying to end myself, and the next I get transported to some whack-a-doo place with a supernatural set of headphones strapped over my ears, and almost get killed by a Bull'serk Wasp*sassin thing!"
He grunted. "You pass out from fright up there, bud?"
"I think I did pass out, dude, but that's not the point." But If i simply fainted & hallucinated, how had i been returned onto the ledge without falling? "Look, somebody's trying to tell me something," I mentioned. Now that I thought about it, the words implied we were probably going to get us out of this scratch. Why else send me such a glaring message and keep me safe as well? "It seems to be speaking about the long run," I tried to elucidate.
"Are there more specifiClues?" he inquired, as if I were a psychological patient.
God, I must have sounded like a nutcase. So I immediately tried to lighten the mood. "Something about…" I let off for suspense, during which I hefted the Nitro Rocket over my shoulder and pointed above my head as if to signal that I had received the message: "ME RAISING COLOSSAL CLOUT!!!" and squeezed the trigger.
A stream of lava pierced the darkness like a Supernova, shading color and depth back into our reality. I waved it back and forth, overjoyed by simply laying eyes on Gutterson. His eyes were saucers. I could see the fire's reflection in them.
Gutterson pushed out a breath. "It's wonderful to see your face, hothead."
"Heh, need a light?" I asked as I let the glow eclipse.
He seemed to take that phrase into account deeply. "Matter of fact, that thing makes as a decenTorch. Find your way down here & help me find our Bag."
***
With gentle flares every couple of feet guiding his steps from above, we found the bag in no time, half-buried by two capsized boxes.
"Alright, so we've got all the gear we wanted," I said. "And no way out."
"Appears that way doesn't it?" Gutterson sighed. "But then, why did I start hearing extra racket after we fired the Mag-Trophase thing?"
"Coincidence?" I supposed. "Or after a skull-splitting barrage of noise followed by dead silence, maybe it's just a ringing in your ears?"
He countered, "Even a ringing in your ears ain't going without purpose. And besides, I'm still listening to it. Can you hear it?"
I strained to listen. At first there was nothing, and then I picked up a minor sizzling sound. "Does it sound like the crackling of a soft campfire?"
There was a pause. "I'd say more like the wet sizzle of rain on something hot, but yes, something like that." I could hear his grin. "Nice to know I'm not hallucinating."
I swallowed, as it reminded me of my isolated experience a minute prior. "I guess the better question is: where is it coming from?"
"Hard to tell in this big of an area," he reasoned. "And with as many appliances are installed around here."
"Well," I formulated. "Before we get our hopes high, let's make sure it isn't coming from one Over-heated Son-of-a-Lug-nut."
He didn't disagree. "It's a fair place to start."
Dabbling with the flames every now and then to light the way, we began to backtrack a little. Every spurt caused our two looming shadows to dance wildly. If that wasn't spooky itself, our boot steps echoed each other through the entire building.
While I was focused on the gloom, Malibu was paying attention to the some unidentifiable sound. "It's growing louder. Maybe it is the dadgum machine after all," he said with a certain hush.
It was increasing: crisper, tenacious. But then distinctly, a bumping rhythm came sneaking along into my head. It started out squeaking, then mixed in pleasant shaking and a few pops, before I heard a distinct HarPrickle and Gong squash_
^_(*!:
_scANd%# I was no longer in the foreboding warehouse. I floateDithered in crimson waxes, amonGroves of Crayon Candles aspiring as trees, and cradles AnKLustered in bouquets, twisThrumming and dripping sloWaxenly + exchanging patchy beams of color into a sky which mostly couldn't be described for permutations: {the corners of a hexagonal horizon were rotating overlap somewhat like conveyor belts} the inner bands flipping with squiggles and darts.
Some sort of horse-sized weasels with seaLion faces were Wyrming through the air, or resting on flower stems and petals. Lovely noises began fluid and calmly, progressively hastening into the words of a SaxoPholky Ballad: #
X<,)6@R i% 5^&>{_Pour!!_)?"+3 =* "2!nd highest dimension circling..."
The deepest, most CRAVEN merges of Contact
mingle near Pious deception: >__+=* {{{they Shan't undo theee:}}}
The most unbelievable engagements - Fabrick %%% only good as its magician
4-tamPl@y< #=T∆mbourine sprinklez"6wish
Always received and rehearSprayed
At firsTick# witHesitation ~fluctuaTune
not\wither cussed-tombary lineage'; Tradition wishes itself preserved
But you each, are pilgrim
*_*
"Dismiss such strangling hands, Casted: - (all except the roots divisions' )
Monsters ludicrously leering, Vigor back-Bitten
inhibiting safety in Pitting collisions, but only a Season
"The most unbelievable engagements -
Are Fabric proportioned to Weaver's coattails..."
+!!>&
for keePLighTethered chest-close,
Gouge their short-sightedness can dissolve 'Onward-Forging' thoughts
Long as one absorbs the Act-or two: aDapting that quality of the fabled, Stable mind
WeaseLions swePolitley past... [2{by[2"} PinnaCLEnch, unceremoniously, Apex
Crushing to turn you
WallSTrained to caving (by easy choices) - wanting
to couraGEO dissolving, messily absolving
_.{_
Axis of Passion, obscurity, antagonism: Annihilated or [r-re-tain-ted..?]
The message from YOUR Galaxy
(what shiver of Loves' jaunts... wails within) ???
To what daring measures!! .. [[or permitted semblances]]
Curiosity can scarce corral self-control:
_~ gasping and gurgling (Sub)-Ubconscious-((Tremore-rrs)) 1 -2 -3 WISHES... Encounter 1 -2 3 REGRETS: #_# Where all skeptics remain disbelieving The cries come hurtling incessant Rough threats of foe vow to break… perhaps thou shatter But Break, away to somewhere more worthy to squeeze Tuba $pr@_*Y!} Recall… it's just that the drive/Urge, The thirst is real Tiresome listlessness tows the Roads of PalpiTraction like some rusty vehicle But the Oil wells and spice mines are not abandoned Cause someone talks about struggle & relief oveRadio again <_!)(_! It's somewhat me, asking myself, how mechanized I find my actions again Nostrils well-acquainted with the smell of our turbines kicking up sand But I don't cough or sneeze, Cause We've grown accus'Tombed to Mispronouncing identity: &!__!<@> Fidget in the seat, and scout the Window with a spine of hope for Pacifying ease But the dredging tractors are lonesome skulls Doldrums Reign where rebels Hang And for it all I am hardly treating myself as guest: Petrified by disgust of treason ,>_7:-- but then i am servant too, & carry those Nearby Twin riders come. . . petrified corrupt Hues of fandom, exchanging flavor ["(Cab~Nets ne'er beam empty)"] So we fondly recall why Whats are Erected: Landscaper with me, designing many Regions Us to hearsay of distant places, diversial Embrace, scarcely witnessed Solving riddles resourcefully, for Spectacular Gateways despite foisty weather <*!:# While the Antagony coalesces... and clots blot unseemly, We weren't made to Tighten up every time things get Rigid; `~ ~ Because as Business knows, the seed of every Reality * is a prolifically impossible Fantasy, becking ever yet charmingly: "I Am Feasible." Although 1st glimpse Disheartening, rebuild beckons Bemoaning in this counsel; "Reach for sweets not yet being Sung," What next now, compulsive Dictation? %i~image9ine_!)> what it feels 2 ab%sorb = an ")@(tmosphere . .") The Gardener's passion is to appease & entice the seeds even if ambushing Thorns slash and thin blood Nuance in every fertilization, Partnership, & Distribution: %&<)<_ "Gimme that, only this" - As you drift off to sleep "Send organiClutch" - As you rouse from thrilling, magnificenTrips, May in fact act more as traps, Ownership sap over self-X-Pression -- There is gale, wing, Goal, scale, pupiL'ear, lipStrike, haunch, camp, Far`braySCion; ~+ # Farmer, dancer, builder, painter: MethoDart'$T@Trolling... aChiefing chafing (even the occasional tree & fun-guy achieving): Talk's the Bright side there in any Must-Bowl Olll'Defection is a popular sight, indeed (A Solemn Gazzzzzze) Shackling the people Grimly to their business &_Q(,:@n They move swiftly, highest hope to scuttle away silently Unapproved to make irrelevant sou'@Nd - the stars soak up these shortcomings; will they permit themselves to turn Off. because their value may soar trivialized? )>!%( The fondest delects of Desire Enough to make those unlike your Kind (Cringe,) When seeing not eye to eye, They would like to be your darkness: Odd thoughts to Bruise and rot affliction upon determination and Creed yet by them has not been tErm`oiled inside - But it meats with each ; : on some page's end: "The only ghosts roaming here, those of ONE's past And every atrocious coiLing isNecuRottease… how you dress theMount:" #)^)>&$ Filter out husky slimes in your footsteps; In some ways each Performance is a lie, Every forceful hiss, distort leverStretch pinned . . .<&) Perceive then how the 'genuine,' Unwrap not with tongue - Rather physical touch; expressions Knitting Advents and side-tracts Plenty good as any desti- Nationnn... Look for Mu'chew Alight, small as a glint These are [\Eye-Lands..); of amends))_X -0.(1] >+_{2= 3-1-0.. )> And then I snapped back from this immensely Structured Choir, with decimal downloads fractuRinging through my noggin like confetti ~ Like i was stepping out of a cozy bath back to a realm of Deprivation. Pebbles plunged along my skin & mingled in my throat for a few breaths. The Flamethrower tumbled from my clutch. I simPly watched it g0Woah... =SMack the floor wiTHrow!^ involuntary spark'zz.}* Malibu skipped at the noise, and rushed over to inquire what exactly might be tripping me up. "Whoops, Butterfingers." I said befuddledly, with his presence nearby feeling for my stooped torso. I wasn't even going to try to decipher all the nuances that had just perforated my being. "Rough day I take it," came Gutt's voice. "But two are more adaptable than one." He felt around the floor until able to recapture the Torch. "Allow me," he remarked and began to lead the way again. "Be my guest," I chimed. "What were we doing again man?" I questioned as I followed, & my head churned. "We're gonna reanalyze the Maggy-net," he replied. "Oh yeah. Hey I'm kinda worried it might self-destruct or something," I mentioned. And the more I thought about it, the more possible it seemed. Why would it have so much residual energy? I was sure it would make a Dreadful Bomb. There wouldn't be much of a place to hide if that event were to play out. The Blast would probably topple some racks and pulp us into smudges. "What do we have left to lose?" suggested Malibu. "An explosion will be a quick fix to our dilemma if we can't get this train wreck back on the tracks. There's no sense in playing timid now. Let's walk right up to it." True. There was the fact that we couldn't back down, there was no running from starvation. We had to be unflinching and sail onward amidst the blinding hurricane to spot a dot of light hoodwinked by the rain-curtain. And following my multiple OBE's, I had a strong feeling (cause of the Voice basically urging me not to surrender) that some malevolent force was trying to weigh us down, splay disgust before our eyes; show us a part of the picture that appealed to our most primitive senses, all to steer us into a defeatist frame of mind. This entire day was beginning to feel linked, and I no longer felt my decisions and movements were proceeding unobserved. An unshakable feeling -- A chill swept along my skin and trickled into my bones. "I'm with you to the end, Gutts. Time for a Tune up." The Mag-Trophase was sitting right where we left it -- except slightly, suspiciously tilted among the aisle. A few charred skid marks also retreated from its original pose. Since it didn't have wheels or anything to assist for easy locomotion, a massive force would've been accountable to scrape marks along the ground like that. And scarier yet, we should've heard the grinding if it moved. Malibu circled it warily. "You see what I see?" He pumped the fumes excessively, to continuously scrutinize the area. "We're probably overreacting," I suggested. "No," he stood firm. "This is the squealing I heard right after the Moons vanished." "You think there's something in here with us?" I scooted closer to him. "If so," he said. "We'll make toast of them." "Maybe it rocked back from its own power when it Charged the Shot?" Instead of his own theory as to how it might've moved, I heard a gargle of surprise & a boisterous grunt as my counterpart vanished toward the floor. "Gut, Gut! What's happ'ning?" Silence. I had no idea if he was still close to me. "Ohhhhhh…" pounded into the air. I was hesitant to call out again. We were probably in danger. If I spoke out it could blow my cover. Any threat would be drawn my way. But at this point, there was no turning back, and I couldn't stand being alone and not knowing. You are the aggressor. Go for it... Choose a fire?…Ha! It's starting to make sense! Orrrr… maybe I'm connecting things that aren'Truly related. There was movement, a soft scraping. My neck knew that in this instance it would need to be sticking itself out there. A wave of tremors pass through me, nevertheless I stammered out: "Speak up, otherwise I'm assuming you have an attacker."