Styx's Testing [Altamira]

[Quark]

He hadn’t seen so much wildlife in one place before. Trees covered in moss, moss covered in mushrooms, mushrooms covered in bugs, bugs covered in grass, grass covered by trees: So much life that would have been better off dead. The landscape was teaming with so many plants and animals that it was almost impossible to see anywhere beyond ten feet without a vine or tree in the way.

The hulking warrior hacked through the jungle with his machete, leveling plants and animals alike. He must have been wading through a bog or something; water came up to his knees. Thankfully his robotic leg was immune to rust, but it was still annoying stuff to work through. He might as well have been a bulldozer tearing down the forest; he did just about as much damage as one. However, causing this much destruction would create a path he could easily follow back to his ship, so it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Mosquitoes seemed to love his blood, but became rather agitated not being able to suck anything from his arms. Whichever god decided to make such a gauntlet filled with nuisances had a deranged sense of humor. He’d endured labyrinths of steel and fire before, but he’d never experienced a maze of endless pests quite like this one. He could do nothing but ignore the little buggers.

Finally, through the endless chiseling into nature, his blade passed through an object with a slightly different sound. It sounded like planks of wood, not just vine or tree. It gave to his strike much easier, pieces of whatever it was scattering through the forest.

Styx yanked a veil of vines from his path. His eyes widened, not quite expecting what he revealed. He stood in awe of its ancient design, amazed he had stumbled across one so vividly intact. It was a simple shed made up of wooden planks, but he might as well have just stumbled across a live dinosaur. He’d only seen rotted down variations of these sorts of structures before, mere antiques that were preserved by means of petrifaction in museums, or throughout the wastelands of Earth lying in shambles. He almost felt sorry for leaving such a large hole in the front of it, but he didn’t. Destruction was more satisfying than creation anyway.

The behemoth pulled the door open without further thought. He poked his head inside the building, glancing around its dark interior. He slid his reflective sunglasses down the bridge of his nose so he could better see in the dark. Maybe he could find something useful in this old shed.

He stepped carefully into the room, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet. There was nothing inside. Well, there were two shelves, but they had nothing but buckets and rags on them. There was a mop leaning against the wall in the far corner, but other than that, there was nothing of use. Styx spit on the wall. What a waste of time.

The door slammed behind him. The mutant turned on his heel, facing the wood door with a strong feeling of annoyance. It better have been the wind, he didn’t want to have to kill someone who might have otherwise been able to help him repair his ship. He gently jiggled the handle, finding it locked. “Shame to ruin such craftsmanship.”

He yanked the door off its hinges, dropping it on the ground. He stepped outside without paying attention, but soon realized something was missing. There was no humidity, no plants, no water, and no pesky mosquitoes. Where’d the jungle go?

He stood motionless for a full minute, dumbfounded and confused. He was standing in a white hallway, one without feature or appreciation for any sort of artistic design. A hallway that he’d seen many times before, one he didn’t expect to ever see again. He began to tremble, eyes darting down the two different stretches of white. His mind raced through the different logical possibilities, but none of them made sense. How did they get him back here? Was everything he’d been experiencing since his escape all just a simulation? Or were they able to capture him somehow and he didn’t realize it?

Styx turned away from the sight, facing the shed, only to find it replaced by his old cell, the room he so often painted with his own blood. This was insane. Twirling his machete in hand, he took a deep breath. They couldn’t keep him here forever, not like they did before. He would fight his way out, he had the strength to.

His feet made their familiar uneven clanks and thumps on the metal floor as he walked briskly down the hall. He was going to cut through the first thing that got in his way. If he saw another one of those androids, or even a human face, he would cut right through it without slowing his pace. The hall ended up ahead, and that was where the primary test chamber was located. He was ready for whatever they had, but this time he would carve his own path through the maze: Right through the wall.

He met the chamber doors with a swift kick, metal exploding across the inside room.

He continued his fast-paced march before the shrapnel had even settled itself, but he suddenly stopped before his fourth step. The room: It wasn’t the test chamber; at least… it wasn’t how the test chamber usually was. It was quite odd, actually. The room wasn’t covered in mind-numbing white metal walls anymore. The walls were yellow, and no longer metallic. The floor was tiled concrete, no longer fortified steel. There were rows of desks in the center of the room, a window letting in a large amount of light from outside. Something about this place, it seemed familiar to him, like… a far off dream, before his years of captivity and torment. He’d been in a room much like this one before, but he couldn’t recall his memories from that far back. All he could tell was that this was a classroom, and he had no idea why he was in one.

He glanced over his shoulder, the once open passageway behind him now a wall. “What the hell?” He slowly rotated to face the wall. Why did this place change so much? He couldn’t handle the unpredictability of this place. He just wanted out. There were no doors, so he’d make his own exit.

Styx pulled back from the wall, his arm poised to strike. With a grunt, he heaved his blade into the side of the room. As he was expecting a satisfying explosion of a crumbling foundation, he was caught off guard when instead he received a violent electrical shock. He lurched backward, the blast propelling him across the room, crashing through various desks. He slowed to a stop at the far end of the room, barely being able to catch a glimpse of the wall he didn’t even scratch before passing into unconsciousness.

[Halcyon Hero]

I . . . I have nothing to teach you.

*Instant Graduation*

Not. (Graduation part)

Now, since I have nothing to criticize you on at moment, let’s just get on with your first lesson.

Styx awakes to find himself being dragged along by a group of three-foot tall creatures, which consist mainly of neat white robes and glowing red eyes. Should Styx attempt to attack them (which seems evident), they will simply splatter apart and reform before the first droplet even hits the wall. Moving on: our little munchkin friends will (attempt to) lead Styx, with the help of electric prods. There are no side corridors, and the wall continually contracts behind them, disallowing Styx the option of turning back. So, one way or another, Styx must follow the path. The munchkins (God, I love that word for some strange reason) will finally “lead” Styx out into a large coliseum-like chamber, within which awaits a curled-up black dragon. The munchkins will disappear back into the corridor, which will seal up behind them. Upon experimentation, Styx would find that all of the walls have the same properties as the classroom walls. Now, I expect that Styx would attack the dragon anyways, but should he not, it will make the first move, forcing him into battle. Do not end the battle, and do not kill the dragon. No word minimum. Remember to describe the munchkins and corridor, as well as the dragon and its chamber.

[Quark]

“Hsiev! Xi pux jewi tuni gsitj niev gus ep opvisitvoph tjux.”

The odd dialect was the first thing Styx heard upon awakening, accompanied by several responses. There was apparently a conversation being held, and he wasn’t in on it. He didn’t feel like opening his eyes, but he knew he had to. The floor was moving beneath him, or rather he was moving across the floor against his will. It was obvious he was being dragged, so he opened his eyes despite not wanting to.

Nope, he should have left them closed. He was definitely being dragged by the feet, or foot and metal leg, and by some rather odd figures too: Small, three foot tall munchkins, hooded in white robes with two red eyes peering outward. He hadn’t seen anything quite like them before, and he really didn’t want to see them ever again. There were about seven of them, all apparently struggling with his weight. “Oh God.” Styx grumbled, really not in the mood to push around some little kids.

“Jiz, ji’t exeli!” One of the things shouted in alarm. The beings instantly dropped his feet, backing up a little bit. Their white robes didn’t seem to suit their active and disorganized personality, but their clothes were most likely used as camouflage in the bright hallways of this asylum. Their faces were shrouded black by their white hoods, only their two beady red eyes visible. Styx wanted to see their face so he could quickly locate and pluck out their tongues. Their language was irritating to the extreme.

“Hsec vji tappist!” One shouted to another. In response, all seven pulled a device out from their robes, someone reminiscent of cattle prods. Styx lazily rolled himself backwards, head-over-heals, then to his feet. That stun from smashing the wall still pained him a bit, and left him rather tired. Even so, he had more than enough strength to kill these whelps. “Alright kiddos, step aside.” He said with a slight yawn.

“Hiv op mopi, nuptvis!” One, apparently their leader, shouted. Jumping forward and jabbing Styx in the stomach with his little mechanism. Instantly, a violent shock stabbed through his body.

“Holy fu…” Styx hissed, biting his lip. The pain wasn’t quite as bad as hitting the wall earlier, but it was quite close. He didn’t feel pain too easily, but surprisingly these little stunners did a good job at hurting him, mostly in his brain. He shook the sensation from his head; these little snots had overstayed their welcome. “Already, buggers, you leave me no choice.” The pirate grumbled.

A swift movement and his massive blade flew free from his back, forming a deadly arc through the air. All seven let out a pathetic little squeal, but stopped abruptly. They were all still standing. They looked around at each other, a little surprised and disappointed, yet grateful to be alive.

“What… he only has physical attacks?” One of the shrouded shorties said, surprisingly in understandable un-altered English. Styx was obviously a little surprised, yet annoyed that they hadn’t been speaking that way earlier, but more annoyed that they were somehow not dead.

“Aw man, not cool!” another midget grumbled.

“Well… he might die rather quickly, but he’ll still do.” He turned back to Styx, wagging his stunner cautiously. “Hiv op mopi, nuptvis.”

Styx realized his jaw was wide open in shock of their patheticness. What the hell were these little things? His blade passed through them as if they were nothing, and they chose to speak to him in a dialect that made no sense! “Alright, pee-snackers, I can understand English, stick with that language please.” He shook his head, deciding that he’d said the wrong thing, “Eh, never mind, just don’t talk at all.” He tried shouldering his way past them, but they only shoved him back. Their strength was surprising for little people.

“Pu, zua’si dunoph xovj at!” The leader protested, smacking his stunner against his hand.

That was it; he wouldn’t deal with these farts any longer. “F*** it.” Styx cursed, swinging Morbid off his shoulder. He slammed the hammer down on his trusty minigun, bolts of energy rapidly tearing through the annoying little creatures like wet paper. He barreled down the narrow hall, passing through the beings as his gun tore them apart. He glanced over his shoulder when he knew he was a safe distance, watching as they rematerialized before hitting the ground. It was a shame they didn’t at least bleed.

The hallway led in only one direction: Forward. He didn’t dare to carve his own path through the walls, for they could very well knock him into unconsciousness again. Whatever was at the end of this hall he hoped was the means to escape, but whatever he ran into it better not be more of those white jawas.

Speak of the devil.

“Get him!” they shouted from behind. “Hiv jon!” Their urgings only forced the cyborg to run even faster. They were fast for their size, but not nearly as fast as he was.

Suddenly, the hall ended. He didn’t know when or how, but it wasn’t a hallway anymore. He blinked and must have missed any sort of transition. The hall was now an open arena. Everything appeared to be made of a tan stone, which was a nice change of pace from all the white he’d been seeing earlier. The architecture reminded him a bit of ancient Egypt, but a little more sturdy from his perspective. There were stands and seats lining the giant, circular enclosure, and within those seats were countless white robes occupied by beady red eyes and irritating cheers and hollers.

“Ha ha!” An annoying voice laughed from behind. “He ran exactly where we wanted him to.”

Styx wheeled around, facing the pukes standing giddily in the hallway. “What do you want from me?”

“Ji’t e dmaimitt cagguup.” The head of the tiny brigade chuckled to his comrades, receiving a plethora of giggles and amused cackles as if they’d just heard the funniest thing ever. Watching them laugh at what was probably an insult at his expense, Styx wanted to kill those f****** all the more.

A medieval-looking portcullis fell in front of the hall, blocking the only apparent exit. He had no clue why they bothered with the gate; he had no desire to go back there. He turned back to the coliseum-like arena he’d ended up in.

For the first time, he saw it. Curled up in the corner like a giant snake, lay… what could have very well been a giant snake. Long, black, and covered in shimmering scales. Thick arms like trains and talons like scythes, they put his hell-grazing wings and bone-sawing teeth to shame. The beast licked its tooth-lined beak, hungry for its newly served dinner. It was more of a dragon than a snake, actually. In fact if it could breathe fire, there would be no doubt that this would classify as a dragon.

Styx knew that the technology behind cloning opened the possibility of bringing dinosaurs back from the dead and, in some cases, forming whole new species of animals with the proper mutations. However, through all of those months since his first day of freedom, he’d never seen a beast this large before.

Fantastic.

The killer gently juggled Morbid in his right hand, chuckling slightly to himself. What a challenge! He’d never fought something so large and magnificent before, there would even be a slight chance its brute strength would match his own. How would he start? He could allow the beast the first attack to test its abilities, or he could lunge forward for a preemptive strike. Either way was equally entertaining, but he’d made his decision.

“Eat pain, you overgrown turd.” With a click, his index finger curled around the trigger. The whirring of Morbid filled the air before finally unleashing a volley of energized projectiles.

The dragon hissed as the missiles made contact. Each bolt pinged and twanged upon impact. The black lizard’s scales were too strong, repelling every projectile that barraged its outer shell. Styx didn’t let go of the trigger, he let his gun run until it was overheated. He hoped to buy enough time to charge the Corpser in his leg, he knew the dragon would attack next and he needed a failsafe plan to escape it.

The moment Morbid ran out of steam, the lizard’s anger was already bubbling over. The beast let out a deafening roar, arousing a series of high-pitched cheers and screams from the stands of the coliseum. The bellow shook the very ground, instilling fear in the annoying onlookers, but not in its enemy. Styx’s face was beaming with pride, his teeth bared in a sinister grin. That dragon was going down.

The long scream from the massive animal ended with a stomp of its front leg, followed by its other front leg. Soon, the monster was in a full gallop, prepared to eat its prey in one bite. The minigun wielder shouldered his weapon, pulling his massive sword off of his back. The Corpser in his mechanical leg fired off just in time, sending him out of harm’s way and forcing the behemoth to slam into the wall.

Styx wondered for a brief moment what dragon blood tasted like.

[Halcyon Hero]

Ahem. No criticisms that I can see for the moment. Now, a challenge of sorts for your next assignment. I desire mucho grande creativity and descriptions. Continue the battle a little further, and then a strange happening shall happen. The floor shall break apart into 4’x4’x4’ blocks and drift apart, revealing a blue sky with white clouds all around and beneath. The ring of spectators shall also break into sections and drift further back, leaving Styx to fight the (flying) dragon while hopping around from block to block. He may not stand on the same block for more than a full minute, for the things shall explode if he does, sending him flying and reducing the number of standing areas for him. And yes, as far as he knows, falling will lead to his death. Lets see some good, creative action.