Wake to a Nightmare.

**Yasamuu**

Swif7 wrote:

Tony's right , Im also goodlooking and I own yas in general. Plus im cool

We've been through this, you failed, you lost. It's ok though , you had a good run but we move on SMILEY

**PBlade** · 02/12/2007 10:59:30

Timeframe: Directly following the extraction

The Hovercraft Nagamitsu shuddered cautiously through the tunnels of the real world, lightning cascading down her spine, an electric shiver. Even the ship was nervous about the new crewman with them.

Aboard the ship, things moved just as cautiously, an edge of doubt tinged everyone's thoughts, even the Captain's. They had awaked the child from an existance that was going to end one way the other, they chose the other. The fact that he and the Captain shared the same name was a passing co-incidence now. Previously it had driven PBlade to find him, under the Oracle's direction, but now PBlade's every thought was focused on what to do with him now. His words when they had pulled him from the Machine sewers had cast a shadow of trepidation across the crew.

"Where am I?" he had breathed, "Am I dead?"

PBlade had smirked, "Far from it" - Perhaps too smug.

"Well I should be" The newly awakened had hissed, before losing conciousness.

The crew had been working on him for days now, regaining his strength vicariously, through a strenuous process of acupuncture, jacking him into controlled constructs, and psychological rehabilitation. He remained unconcious throughout all of this and still was. His case was unorthadox, to say the least. He had been given no choice in his awakening, as otherwise, the man would have surely died. There were already subversive mutterings among the crew and the faction that PBlade had made the wrong decision to awaken him: Everybody should be offerred the choice of the lie of the truth, and even of life or death. But PBlade had forfeit that right and decided for him.

Even the Captain himself didn't defend himself against the subliminal dissaproval that he knew was going on. He was himself unsure of whether it was the right choice.

He patted Aleixandre, who was piloting, on the shoulder and headed out of the cockpit, through the bowels of the ship to the medical bay. A ladder rung or two later, he stepped into the bay. Its architecture was the same as every other room in the ship, but the bright lights and equipment gave the room a reassuring sense of sterility.

"How is he?" PBlade murmured, barely audible. In such a room, however, the only other sound is the comforting beep of the life monitor. Fortunately, that beep was still sounding off like a metronome of life.

Nercos looked up from his station, the routine of life disturbed by the Captain's question. He stood and moved over to where the man lay in his incubator. "He's making progress. I'd say you came down at the right time, Captain."

"What do you mean?"

PBlade stepped forward to the bed, craning to get a better look at him. He was no longer bald, small, stubble like hair was sprouting from his cranium, along with real stubble growing around his jawline. He was naked apart from a thin blanket--for want of a more appropriate word--covering him from the waist down. His torso and arms looked supple and tender from where hundreds of acupuncture needles had been removed, tiny scabs indicating where one or two had been removed less than gracefully. The muscle rebuilding process had already finished, and so small, but fast growing, muscles pushed visibly against his arms and chest.

PBlade was broken from his investigation by a low groan. Nercos smiled. "The perfect time, I'd say. He's waking up" He was right, the man's eyes flutterred minutely before prising open. He instantly closed them again when a seep of light hit his retina. He let out a barely audible hiss,

"My eyes... why do they hurt so much?"

The Captain looked to the medic, then back to the man. "You've... You've never used them before" - The man made no answer. PBlade came around the incubator to look over the man's face. "But that is irrelevant at this moment. As is the fact you wish you were dead..."

The man sighed insignificantly.

"You have no name here. Peter Stewart is dead, you understand? We.... You... need a name here, and we don't know what to call you."

"Terracus!" The man's head hovered an inch above his pillow and his eyes bulged for a moment. His strength gone, he fell back against the incubator, breathing heavily. Breathing once more the name he had chosen.

"Terracus..."

TBC...

Ingus

Nice PBlade

**PBlade**

The hall surrounded him. Empty, he sat in company. Not another body moved about the chamber, but two souls occupied that room.

Terracus sat alone, indeed. No physical body to comfort him, but the other soul infront of him. Elegant, beautiful, sleek. She was waiting for him, and he was all but ready to give himself to her. All but ready, save one thing.

His eyelids drew closed, flutterring momentarily, the catarpillar becoming the butterfly.

'Make me remember' he whispered into thin air. His eyes widened again. He was ready. His arms rose in front of him, a brief, loving creak and light knock later, and his hands touched down on his beauty. His fingers brushed against the silky ivory, his nails gently tempting the black keys, his hands positioning themselves along the bow of his vessel. He stopped, stationary, unmoving, for a moment. Everything was still. His anguish and his bitter resentment drew through him, and he began to play.

The moment of silence was broken, and Terracus' hands took flight over the board of the piano. His feet began movement underneath, rising and falling against pedals, elongating and killing notes short. Power of life and death over sound at his command. His only weapon was himself, as he saved and killed the tune.

He didn't know what he was playing. He didn't know if it was beautiful or abysmal--It had been programmed into hs mind, it was more than likely flawless. Sublime--and he didn't care, he played all the same. His fingers flitterred and his hands danced across and over each other, flickering against keys instantly before darting away; a chaste affection withdrawn and returned in an instant.

Terracus was lost in the concerto, he failed to realise his single audience. PBlade viewed him above, watching his fingers dart and flit over the keys, producing a composition that PBlade could only describe as 'Astounding' - Terracus evidently had his entire being into this piece, and PBlade would have been moved if otherwise disposed. But no.

This was a construct. This wasn't real. The music wasn't real, the notes weren't real. Any emotion he felt for the tune was not real.

As if stirred by PBlade's self admittance, Terracus abruptly stopped, on a low note. His feet dropped and the final, dark note of the piece absorbing into the room, swallowed by the acoustics and spat back out, it lasted for a good ten seconds before Terracus stood up, embarrased. The note drew out and died. The song was over.

'PBlade...' He had nothing to say.

'Well played. You did this as a bluepill?' The Captain called down. His voice calm, but impacting.

'Thank you.... Yes... I was never that good, though.'

'Indeed. This place... can do that'

Silence. Terracus admired his feet. PBlade sighed an exasperated sigh,

'You hate it here, don't you? The real. You hate knowing the lie.'

'Yes' His answer was instant and full of conviction, he looked back up at the Captain, still avoiding his eyes, 'I wish I was still as ignorant as the rest'

PBlade avoided the argument, 'Well you're not, and now you have a job to do. There's a mission dossier for you. Get ready and get into the Matrix. I'll give you more orders when you get in there.'

Terracus spat a mumbled acknowledgement before heading for the door, and the way back to the Hovercraft. As he approached it, PBlade called him back. He turned to his Captain, his face dull and uncaring.

'The piece' he head jerked minutely back at the piano, 'What was it called'

In that moment, the butterfly became the moth, and Terracus met PBlade's gaze, with cold, dead, gray eyes staring into his superior's red orbs.

'The Heart Asks Pleasure First'

TBC...

**oranos**

Interesting story. I look forward to seeing which direction it's heading in.

**Yasamuu**

Like i said on xfire, well written as always. Intreguing story, i look forward to the next post...

**Bayamos**

((<3 the piano bit. Intense...))

SystemF

lol just anb idea but you and bayamos should write a comic book

**Swif7**

SLINK wrote:

lol just anb idea but you and bayamos should write a comic book

Pblades doing one.

Nj as always Pblade

**PBlade** · 03/19/2007 17:08:57

Two tidy holes punctuated the full stop on the Cypherites life. He slumped back against the wall before sliding into a sitting position on the floor, his arms limp, his head lolling to one side. Two thin, crimson ribbons trailed him from the wall, marking his journey to the end. His eyes glazed over, and a wheeze escaped his lips as his existence ceased.

Terracus watched it all down the barrel of his pistol. Rising smoke from the point of the gun warping his vision, creating a dreamlike scene of what was, essentially, murder. Confident that his target ceased to be, he finally dropped the weapon and holstered it. He took a deep breath and surveyed the corpse. That man, his target, was doing a job that was exactly the same as his, a carbon copy assassination job. The only difference was that the targets were different, and the ones giving the orders were different, and stubborn for different reasons.

The meddler let out a final, rattling gasp—a final grasp for life, falling from the precipice—his face losing saturation and his eyes rolling up into his head and glazing over. Terracus turned away from him and moved on down the corridor. His thoughts snapped back momentarily to the limp husk he left behind, before his steely gaze focused on the approaching door, and the room behind that held his final target. He was striding now, determined, or desperate, to be done with this mission, so he could rescind into himself back in the real, and dream of what he had.

He pushed aside the door with a nonchalant sweep of his arm, bringing himself face to face with his target’s pistol. He ducked out of reflex, and the gunshot rang out down the corridor, the bullet whizzing past the lifeless heap and embedding in a far wall. He brought himself back up, his fist rising to disarm his opponent, but he found the gun, and attached arm, already removed from him path. Bringing his legs up as he rose, he moved into a jumping kick, again colliding with thin-air, as the masked stepped away.

Landing in a crouch once more, his hand dropped to his boots, and pulled out his pistol. He sprung back to his feet and brought the gun to bear. There was a satisfying thud as the barrel came to rest again cheek, and a juxtaposed sense of dismay as he felt cold steel against his forehead. Standoff.

Finally ceasing the flurry of combat, the two took a moment of stare each other down. Terracus felt a gaze burning into him as he checked his opponent down. Surprisingly, he had been matched by a woman. Her face was hidden, characteristically, by a rag, and her eyes behind dark, mirror-reflective glasses. Her hair flowed over her head and flared out as it reached the nape of her neck. One of the lenses of her glasses was hidden by a sweeping fringe, jet black, like the rest of her hair.

The two were panting. Sweat beading up on their respective foreheads. She breathed a laugh. ‘Am I to know the name of the man who I am about to kill?’ Impressed? Something was tugging at the corners of her bandana, was it a smile?

‘Only if the favor is to be returned’ He said, a smile blossoming on his exhausted features. His frown relaxed, ‘Terracus. And you?’

She definitely did smile beneath her rag this time, he was sure, and the pistol wavered slightly.

‘Opiate…’

---

Timeframe: Current events

'How will it end? I have to know...'

'You know I can't tell you that, PBlade. That's been decided, but not understood. But I can tell you when.'

PBlade nearly doubled over as he leant across the table to hear her, his red eyes bulging 'When'

The Oracle took a drag of her cigarette, a long one, slowly looking into his fiery spheres.

'Soon'

To be Concluded...

Pyraci

<3

A lovely introduction to what will be. I love it. Images for this are coming...