HomePortalRegisterLog in

Share | 


View previous topic View next topic Go down 

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Bloodspill   Wed Mar 03, 2010 5:29 am

I'll be reposting the entire thing when I get the chance.


A sharp tang of chemicals tugging to near unbearable levels; A small price to pay in creating life. The odor of freshly soldered metal still alive with pungency. The slow steady movement of plasma like mud through a slimed pipe—all minor prices to pay.

The creation. The impossible. And yet it remain still, bobbing ever so delicately as a plank on gentle waters. Almost a soothing rhythm: Up, down, up, continuing without end.

The room was as empty as the heart of a murderer. Darkness. Endless darkness swallowed the room, engulfing it in an indistinguishable void of despair. Such would soon intertwine the fate of the creation.


Last edited by Mega10 on Wed Mar 09, 2011 5:26 am; edited 1 time in total
Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Wed Mar 10, 2010 5:10 am

Chapter One

“It’s finally time.” Thomas Lakes, a man of roughly fifty years of age announced. He picked casually at lint on his white attire. Several white coat wearing men and women flocked together, stepping in near symmetrical pace; organized formations. The occasional arm swinger drifted towards the outer rim of the small formation.

The halls traveled on for what seemed forever. Endless stretches of bland shades of gray, a depressing sight to stare at often. All paused as the leader of the project stepped forward before sharing a small speech as he pushed open the massive doors before them.

The others hurried together around a long, white, table. Its surface was cold and texture rough as sand paper. Each individual’s attention was directed to the center of the farthest wall. The room’s width was plenty a-gap for an entire lot of cars to fit within its enormous walls.

To the center of the room, a near pill-shaped capsule remained a-glow. Its contents, a bubbly green substance, slurped through long, narrow pipes, leading beyond the room. Arm-like tentacles slithered amongst the green gel; each with small rotating rings occasionally brushing against the dark form in the center and sending paragraph-length bits of information across three small screens placed to the left side. Fifteen small lights blinked in rhythm to the bobbing form inside as it was pulled closer towards the opposite end.

“I present to you, our creation!” Lakes eyes wrinkled near the outer edges as his smile widened. Almost with melodic grace his hand drifted to the control panel--which was an understatement by all measures--and pressed each key he desired with the precision of a sniper.

The capsule released steam from its top vents while the green substance lurched and gurgled through vacuum suction tubing.

“Isn’t it beautiful? Truly magnificent. Beautiful, simply beautiful!” The astounded Thomas Lakes watched his machinery unfold as it was programmed.

The capsule hissed open. Metal arms buzzed like mini chainsaws holding the creation from crashing against the now steamy floor. Steam drifted off the creature rising like freshly baked bread from the oven.

The crew leaned forward in nervous anticipation, a few clicking pens compulsively. The tentacle arms retracted in a whiz of streaming silver. The creation wavered back and forth. Its eyes still securely shut.

Its body was near fully adorned in metal plates, black—jet black—in color. Trims of red added contrast while the skull of an animal was engraved on one chest plate. Four sword-like metal extensions were slew to either side of its head.

“A zetraloid of course—One of our modern day miracles.”

The creature, a zetraloid, stretched its arms out in front of itself and waved them through the air; its movement slow and unstable as a young kitten trying to walk. Legs trembling beneath it, it took one careful step back to balance itself.

“Shh, shhh! Everyone quiet!”

As if the crew had not priorly known, they nodded their heads—some only took notes.

The creature’s eyes opened halfway before it squinted them shut again. Its head tilted up as if to find the source of such bright light.

“Yes. Yes, that’s right, take your time…”

“I doubt he gets this excited over his own family.” One of the many coworkers murmured to his friend in a hushed voice.

The creature’s red eyes drifted open yet again. This time they remained in such a state. Its attention immediately set on the man standing beside him.

“Welcome.” With precise caution, Lakes kneeled beside the awakened creature.

Its gaze remained only a moment before the shuffling of paper caused it to shoot the others a stare of intense undecided emotion.

The moment of distraction was plenty. Assistant Christina Kinney, who had only recently joined beside Lakes, pulled a gun to eye level and fired. Bolts of blue electricity erupted from the weapon and danced around the creature before rendering it immobilized on the floor.

“Get a restraint on that thing, Thomas.”

“It meant no harm.” Lakes reached out to accept the dull gray band. In the center rested a magnificent blue gem sparkling in splendor. With the creation subdued it was no chore at all to secure the device around its neck.

The device worked as a type of restraint—emitting a painful electric current which would promptly stop the creature’s operating system.

Four others gathered around the currently deactivated creature, lifting it together at once. Without exchange of conversation they transported the metal being through long halls, each step an echo down the way.

The floor below them beamed with streams of yellow light while the vents blew cool breeze into the otherwise warm hall. Despite its endless lengths it remained warm from all operational machinery. Long, thick, wires raced its lengths snaking through the vent shafts.

Within ten minutes of estimated time the team arrived in the room intended. This room, unlike many of the others, was small in size. Light filtered in through vents and floor panels while the general tone of the room was dreary with pale plates of gray matched only by more silver tinged walls.

Transparent, green-tinted, plastic, railing incased the shallow stairway leading to the two schedule charts and what they considered to be a creation display case. Massive wires spilled over the top and from beneath the bottom, reaching for their next victim. Gray panels of thick casing stretched the entire distance of the taller capsule.

Fitting snug around its lower rim, a thick generator was in place for the purpose of regulating pressure and temperature. The zetraloid creature was placed inside securely before several alarms were set in place.

Motion detecting rays of light ran criss-cross through the room while five separate cameras were all focused on the capsule. From the other side of the room, one of the scientists activated a switch.

One long, pronged, metal arm creaked forward and gathered a small collection of electricity before touching the creature. The sudden application bounced the zetraloid against the outer cover and woke it with a start.

As it finally came to a fully conscious state, the last of the humans disappeared behind closed doors, also dimming the light to an orangish glow.

Sound was muffled from the outside world for the poor creature while it was amplified within the capsule. The relatively small zetraloid leaned his face against the charcoal window and placed his hands to either side of his head to brace himself as he gazed over.

His red eyes were watchful yet distressed and confused. He gazed at each camera and tapped the casing with care. Nothing.

Where am I?

He looked down at his metal shielded legs. Small plates of armor nearing only an inch in size rotated back and forth without pause.

What am I?

The creature shook his head, the clank of his helmet fins near frightening him.

And why am I here?

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Wed Mar 10, 2010 5:14 am

Chapter Two

Night was peaceful enough if one didn’t mind not knowing why they had suddenly come to be nor what they were doing locked up like some animal. The nameless zetraloid leaned against the window in a light sleep. He had nothing better or more productive to do after all.

The dim lights never completely shut off and only the occasional scientist would venture in at night and stare for a few moments before disappearing once more. He didn’t enjoy the hype over himself or all the cameras watching his every move, but he’d gotten over it. He pulled his head down to rest against his shoulder once more.

Scientists had gathered round the front of the capsule with Thomas Lakes at their lead. Each was far more talkative today and taking notes swiftly. The door flung wide open with a single lurch, launching the zetraloid across the floor. The zetraloid toppled over a few times, his armor plates grinding into the ground and creating small scrapes on its surface.

His reaction time had become swifter than the night before, allowing him to be back on his feet in mere seconds.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” The zetraloid asked as he shook his armor plates back into their proper positions. His voice was fairly quiet and had a fluid-like flow that sounded more like a slurred whisper than anything.

“Magnificent! His personality is developing quickly!” Lakes turned to his creation, “Come, oh do come with us, we have much to do!”

The zetraloid tilted his armored head to one side. His mouth remained a frown of indecisive conflict. One of the others gave him a gentle push in hopes of encouraging him along. It did little more than get a glare from him.

Christina Kinney stood in front of the zetraloid, her chocolate hair bouncing atop her shoulders in tight curls.

“I suggest you move it, shorty.” She leaned down, her expression pure steel, “Unless you want to be zapped.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant but she made it sound undesirable so he decided to avoid it. With no more acknowledgement than a flick of his four helmet fins, he set off at a steady pace behind them. His entire body moved in such smooth strides that he appeared to be gliding across the surface rather than walking choppily as the humans did.

He studied the light emitting from the hall floors as the crew proceeded along and crossed the vents. The humans had no issue with the vents, although he crossed with far more caution. Occasionally he would cast a glance skyward or even detect faint traces of chemicals in the air.

“This way.” Lakes directed with a swing of his arm.

The zetraloid followed still just as graceful, as opposed to the other scientists tromping along like a herd of cattle. At least that is what it sounded like to him.

A new environment had been reached now. This room had bright, fluorescent, lights showering even the farthest of corners. Counters with rather large devices atop them encompassed the room. Each drawer had a small white label incased in plastic.

One shimmering silver table stood as the center of attention in the middle—exactly where everyone was ushering him. Hands all around him kept him from venturing away with ease.

“Alright, my little friend.” Lakes began, “I’m sure you have plenty of questions for us…but first…”

While his attention had been directed towards the oldest human, the others lifted him atop the slick surface of the table. His feet slipped and slid until he finally settled on sitting. Faces stared from all around. His helmet fins dropped to the sides of his head, while his red eyes shown of uncertainty.

Thomas Lakes had come up beside him, with an intricate tool in hand.

“Can you say ‘ah’?”

“Can or want?” The zetraloid wondered as he pulled his head away from the man.

The others drew closer like lions waiting on their prey, creating a kind of barrier around the table thus preventing him from backing away any further.

“Oh, come now, I’m not going to hurt you.” Lakes tried prying open his creation’s jaws with no success, “We…just…want to see…” the man was evidently struggling. He took his flat metal tool and worked it between the zetraloid’s clamped jaws, forcing them apart at last.

“Fascinating.” He held a light near the creature’s mouth as he inspected its unusual teeth.

They were similar to the width of nails but pointed like needles. Unlike most normal zetraloids, the creature had at least three rows of them. Each row pressed against the row in front of it, causing it to resemble that of a shark.

“Do you mind?” the zetraloid muttered in disapproval, although not quite understandable due to the fact he had a hand in his mouth.

Lakes removed his hand and set the tool down, “You have very unique teeth.”

“What does that mean?”

Lakes did not answer but insisted on rotating one of the zetraloid’s armor plates until it became pointed as if it were a hook.

Very interesting.” His attention returned to the zetraloid’s mouth, “I wonder…” the man trailed off as he left to retrieve whatever his mind had concocted up.

The zetraloid waited. There wasn’t much more he could achieve. Being locked within a place one scarcely had seen, didn’t exactly contribute to the cause at hand. Regardless, this entire situation was bizarre.

The zetraloid’s four helmet fins clanked together absent mindedly as he watched the doorway. So many unanswered questions, so many strange things and yet no one willing to explain.

Lakes returned in the instant with a small creature in hand. Its long legs dangled from its slim, lizard, body. Metal scales covered the entire length. The creature squirmed in his hand making shrill cries for help. Lakes pulled his zetraloid creation’s hand towards himself and placed the small creature in his palm. He proceeded to curl the zetraloid’s fingers around the frail body--Frail in comparison to him at least. It would be like bending rebar to a human.

“Let’s see how strong those teeth are.”

The zetraloid studied his creator’s stern expression. What was he talking about?

“Go on, bite it.”

“Bite…what?” the zetraloid’s helmet fins twitched in confusion.

“The lizard of course!” Lakes insisted as he guided the zetraloid’s hand to his mouth.

The lizard. Obviously that was the creature he was holding. He studied the creature’s expression. Two black orbs for eyes and no real expression but that made no difference. It was a living creature—at least he was almost sure it was.

“Don’t be shy about it; just…chomp down on it.”

Chomp down on the living creature? This hardly seemed right. The zetraloid shook his head in defiance and released the grateful creature. It scampered away, feet clicking along the slick, floor-surface as it disappeared from sight.

The zetraloid’s mouth curved into a smile until he noticed the shocked expressions around him. This action had done little to appease anyone.

“What?” Lakes gasped, “No, this can’t be right, something has gone terribly wrong!”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Wed Mar 10, 2010 5:17 am

Chapter Three

“Line five, ready?”

“Five’s a go.”

Yards of thin tubing poured over the sides of the table. Thomas Lakes was supposed to have been overseeing the entire operation but instead had left Christina Kinney in charge.

Five specialists all waited around the table. Some held intricate tools while others clamped the tubing down and labeled it. Beneath their extensive tangle of tubing, the defective, little, creation they had dubbed as Micro lay gazing up at them. A Shapeshifter Hunter—that was what he had been informed he was—was to be aggressive. He had not shown these qualities, and now had become just another test subject.

They had fastened him down securely with straps to the point only his head could move a limited amount. The room was unnaturally chilled, like death’s grip, clutching tight and creeping up.

“Everyone else ready?”

The others nodded their heads. Christina dimmed the lights around them and sighed as she sat on her backless chair.

“This is going to be a long day.”

The first length of tubing was selected. A thick, blade-like, puncture tool was securely fastened to its tip. Christina held her gloved hand steady by the zetraloid’s neck. Here, the most tender and delicate wiring remained easy to penetrate.

She moved her arm at an angle. The tip burrowed its head into Micro’s unprotected actuators. Fresh plasma oozed from the slit as Christina wormed the tubing into the plasma line. As it traveled further within the line, it began to expand. Wider, fuller. A liquid substance of crimson red flowed more rapidly.

Micro attempted to shake his head. All the while his neck felt as if it were becoming swollen. He swallowed with caution. More and more the pressure increased. An uncomfortably full feeling clawed at his neck like a burrowed tick. Pressure continued to build. A new sense of warmth overtook the area.

Micro yelped in surprise and pain as the build up of plasma burst the line. That couldn’t have been what they had intended to do.

“Shut up.” Christina muttered as she twisted the end of the line into a knot.

Micro blinked his eyes before going silent once more. Christina grabbed another of the lines and proceeded to do the same thing. He resisted the urge to cry out, which Christina did little to even show she approved of.

The following were placed much the same way. Plasma dripped from between Micro’s armor plates and flooded over the table. He thrashed his head to one side, breaking free from his secondary restraints. The scientists scowled at him but none made any attempt to pin his head back down; no one in their right mind would grab hold of the razor-like lengths.

Ignoring the zetraloid’s further attempts to break free, Christina ran another bloodline down the length of his arm. Micro’s arm turned in unnatural ways but he made no further complaint other than his occasional twisting and thrashing.

A thick, putrid, coating of fresh blood wafted by. The ventilation of the room did little to lessen the sickening smell. Rather, vents overhead mixed the odor with chemicals of the other rooms.

Their zetraloid clone complained much less than the typical; even despite the intensity of the procedure. The others gathered around to aid in speeding it up upon seeing their subject appeared to be able to tolerate it.

Micro’s helmet fins pulled close together, flattening to the sides of his head. It was all he could do. After some time the pain had become dull, feeling as if they were doing nothing more than tugging a rope.

The world appeared fuzzier than he had recalled, while the voices were fading into a peaceful quiet. He was not fully sure he could feel his hands and feet any longer—maybe just a slight tingle—and his jaw felt tight with a creeping numbness.

Christina grabbed her com-link and called for more support. Micro was no longer tolerating the procedure well. They would have much rather preferred him to be fighting against them than lay so incredibly still and distant minded.

“What should we do?” A new member of the team, Gregory Brooks, asked.

“Whatever you need to.” Christina answered bitterly, “It wouldn’t bother me if the stupid thing died.”

“It’s probably all the bleeding.” The young man covered his mouth with his shirt to dilute the horrid stench.

He and the others set to work with efficient swiftness in order to salvage their project.

Micro’s breathing was shallow and rapid. His eyes shut as he tried to ease the unstable sense of spinning. He grimaced as the motion began churning his stomach.

“Miss Kinney, you should—“

But it was already too late. Micro coughed and a small amount of blood trickled from his mouth. His helmet fins perked at once as his head slammed down. He coughed again, harder and more frantic.

A gurgling whimper was the red flag of the problem. Micro’s head thrashed back and forth as he tried to pry himself free. Blood continued to drip from his mouth as he writhed for freedom.

“Hurry up, before he chokes to death!”

The scientists all rushed to get the clamps open but could only work so fast. Micro gasped and coughed all the more fiercely as he swallowed more of the blood he was already choking on. Its sticky, salty, tang was enough to make him gag to begin with.

“Stand back!”

Everyone took a few steps back with the final clamp free. Micro scrambled to get up on the slick surface with little success. Instead, he rolled over, propping himself up with his arms. His head leaned over the side of the table as he heaved up a mass of blood.

His helmet fins drooped to the sides as his body lurched forward. He nearly slid off from all the blood and plasma trickling from his body and pooling on the table and floor.

“What’s wrong with it?” Gregory whispered.

“Bloodline broke already, piece of trash, w—“

“His defense system must see it as a threat it must rid itself of.”

Micro felt his body convulse again as the tang of more fresh blood filled his throat and mouth. He lost his grip on the table’s edge, falling forward. Blood dripped from his chin as it flowed from his mouth. A shiver trailed through his body making him feel ice cold. He sighed shallowly as he hung off of the table, blood and plasma still running down him like a stream.

The world was oddly still again, fuzzy and fading. He was unaware of the fact that his eyes were slowly as all he could think of was how tired he was. Weak and exhausted, he stopped his attempt of saving himself all together. Blood still ran from his mouth, but the zetraloid was not strong enough to escape from drowning in it.

“Don’t just stand there! Get in there and do something!”

Two of the scientists rushed over, looking far from pleased by the proposition. One grabbed Micro’s head and pried his mouth open while the other seized a tube attached to a large, boxy, machine and shoved it down Micro’s throat.

The zetraloid’s fading conscious state snapped back as he pulled the opposite direction. The remaining scientists followed over to assist. They came up behind the zetraloid to hold him in place while a few others left to find a suitable restraint.

They returned with a chain and wrapped it around the already weakened zetraloid. With his arms incapable of movement, the most he could do was twist his head a few centimeters and kick his legs.

Micro coughed and gagged as they shoved the odd device further down his throat.

Christina struck the zetraloid over the head with her clipboard. “Will you stop moving? I swear, you’re worse than an infant.”

Micro wasn’t sure what they thought they were doing by putting this down his throat. It didn’t feel as if it were helping at all. It felt as though it was deep within his stomach to him and it was incredibly uncomfortable.

“I said stop moving!” Christina forced his head to the side as if she were slamming planks around.

Micro’s head was spinning. Too much plasma loss. Too many things happening. He shut his eyes in hopes the strange peacefulness would overtake him once more. The machine roared to life. A dull whir from the vacuum-like machine filled the room. Micro’s eyes closed more tightly as if hoping it would lessen the pressure in his stomach.

His face became paler as he tried coughing the machine out. It only made his stomach hurt worse though. Together the humans were too strong for him to escape from and he had to settle for letting them do as they pleased. Still, it didn’t change the fact he felt as if his insides were being torn out. One of them had the nozzle of the machine firmly in hand as if he thought he was vacuuming out the back of his car.

At last the machine shut off and the man yanked it out with one pull. Micro was half stunned—almost too dazed to even realize it was out or that he could breathe well again. The scientists had decided to take it into their own hands to rid him of the excess blood if the zetraloid was not strong enough to do so of his own accord.

A wave of tiredness washed over the young zetraloid as the machine roared to life again. He slumped over in exhaustion and plasma loss as they cleaned the mess around him. The room was filled with astray wiring mixed amongst pooling blood and plasma.

The soft bleeping of a machine began to lull him to sleep while they worked. Finally he had a few moments of peace. One of his four helmet fins twitched ever so slightly as his eyes closed yet again.

“What a complete failure.” Christina gestured to the sleeping zetraloid curled neatly on the table. The only sign he was alive was the shallow rise and fall of his side. “Half complete and it goes berserk.”

Gregory shrugged, “There’s still more to be done.”

“If it lives.”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Tue Mar 16, 2010 4:08 am

Chapter Four

Micro jolted awake to the smell of tart chemicals and shook his head. His body had little energy left in it as he fumbled over his own hand. He felt as though his head weighed a thousand pounds and every centimeter of the right side of his body burned as if all his plasma lines were aflame.

His armor was marred by blood. Smears of red dyed his white hands while the substance trickled down a small hole in his arm. At once he remembered what had happened to him. With a prickle of fear trailing down his spine he shot to his feet, ready to run if needed.

Instantly an eruption of pain seared through his right foot, forcing him to lift it. His breathing became more rapid as he noticed he was not alone. A single scientist stood at a desk. It appeared he was taking notes of some sort. Around his waist was a belt with the strange substance he had smelled fastened to it.

Did he have any idea of what had happened earlier? Did he care? What was he doing? Micro’s helmet fins flicked as he tilted his head to one side. He yelped in pain. The gash on his neck. He had forgotten all about the injury left by the sharp object.

The scientist rounded to look at him.

“You’re awake.”

Micro took a step back, flicking his helmet fins with caution.

“That must have been horrible…was it?”

After a moment or so Micro nodded his head; his red eyes never left the scientist. He wasn’t nearly as trusting of the coat wearing humans after what they had just done to him.

“They’re not around, don’t worry.” The scientist had taken a step forward.

Micro watched and with hesitance, limped back several steps.

“Am I frightening you? Don’t worry, I’ll stay right here.”

Micro was not convinced by the man in white. Thus far something unpleasant had happened each time he had neared the strange humans. Why was he here anyway? They didn’t seem to want him for anything other than hurt. That couldn’t be what they had intended for him.

Micro had been lost in his thoughts and never noticed the other man sneaking up behind him. As quick as lightening the man had wrapped a noose-like wire with spikes around his injured neck.

The zetraloid twisted sharp to the side and discontinued within the moment. The pain around his neck was intense and near stopped him in his tracks.

The scientist in front of him smirked.

“Not the brightest, are you kid?”

Micro’s helmet fins twitched again as the man approached him. He stood far taller than the small zetraloid who had somewhat cowered down.

Why did they have to treat him like this? It wasn’t like he was an animal. He hadn’t been mean to them in any way. What had he done to deserve this?

The pole the noose-like wire was attached to prevented him from getting closer to the man holding it which left him, once again, defenseless. The scientists advanced now with syringe in hand.

“Funny really.” He held the syringe up as he attached the needle, “How unintelligent this supposed ‘intelligent’ race has proven. It’s almost like—“ he drew the tart smelling chemicals from his belt and jabbed the needle through the top, filling it full of a dark, inky substance. “…you have no brain at all.”

The man leaned over. Micro was about to flee before remembering what was around his neck. The wire tightened as the other man grasped the lever handle with firm, unwavering hands.

“We’re curious to see if we can give you night vision—improved of course.”

Micro tried taking a step back with no success.

“This will most likely sting just a bit.”

The man held the zetraloid’s eye open as he aligned the needle. Micro felt fear prickle through his body leaving him with a bitter sense of cold. He could see the needle zone in on him, yet couldn’t blink. The needle penetrated the unprotected white of his eye. It hadn’t hurt as much as he had imagined but as the medicine was injected his opinion swiftly changed.

His eye felt ready to pop while millions of stings like ant bites engulfed his eye. Pale gray surrounded his pupil and for a moment he thought his vision had completely faded.

“You may have a hard time seeing for a bit, it is all perfectly normal. The gray tint will change.”

He readied the needle again, this time he poked through the lower side. The pain was no less. Micro blinked his eyes several times, but nothing was able to relieve the feeling. The scientist had been right though. His vision was changing. It was a bit fuzzy and the colors were all turning to shades of gray. It had hurt but that was fading more promptly than he had foreseen.

The scientist stood rubbing his chin beneath a hanging light. Micro shivered and squinted his eyes. The light. It was so much brighter than he had remembered. It made his eyes ache to look at. Why did they have such a bright light?

Micro carefully turned his head in the noose to avoid the light. The response he received was not what he had been expecting.

“Ugh! What happened to its eyes?!”

The other scientist took his time in stepping over to where the bewildered man was.


Micro’s eyes had gone from light gray to pitch black, his red pupils now seeming small and evil lost in the depths of darkness.

“Well…that’s a new reaction.”

“Are you gonna fix it?” The other man seemed genuinely repulsed by Micro’s appearance, “It’s all bloody and…those eyes…”

“Should make him a hit in the colosseum. Lucky lil’ sucker.”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Tue Mar 16, 2010 4:09 am

Chapter Five

Micro sat in a room alone. The wisp of air vents overhead split his attention. The cold air made the room almost too chilled. The walls were charcoal and overall bland with only occasional graphs and charts strewn about.

Life was boring. That is, if this was what life consisted of. He could hardly understand why anyone would want to exist in such a state. He had been called nothing but a failure. Whether they meant it or not it was hurtful, and secondly, he was near sure they meant it.

Not as aggressive as they hoped, a failure with replacing plasma lines with bloodlines—he didn’t understand why they had wanted to in the first place and now he was colorblind thanks to improving night vision.

The darkness of the room did little to aid his mood. At least he could see in here though. Strangely enough, he could see colors in the dark and navigate without difficulty unlike day. His worst problem was the fact his bloodlines frequently burst. It hurt for a start and all the scientists would only give him disgusted glares. The red fluid would replenish itself, but he still didn’t smell good in the least and looked like something from a nightmare.

He sighed and rested his head on folded arms as he watched the door. His mouth stretched wide in a yawn before he settled into the small corner of the room. Boxes towered above his head on both sides but he felt more secure here than in the open. At least it was peaceful and no scientist wanted him for anything.

It all ended. The door cracked open, light streaming in. Micro’s eyes instinctively shut now that they were more sensitive to light. He didn’t hear the voice or footsteps of the scientists like he had expected before hearing the door shut.

Micro’s helmet fins twitched notably as he rose to his feet. In the distance he could make out the slightly larger build of another zetraloid. A light blue mohawk trailed its helmet while its armor was very similar to his, but with blue lining. Small bone-like spikes protruded from his legs and feet. With a start Micro realized the zetraloid also had massive curved bones running down his back like a porcupine—it was his spine, but not incased within his body.

The zetraloid’s eyes were like his own as well. The other peculiar thing about the creature was its hands. Long, metal, claws of grayish-silver and tan stretched far longer than any normal hand. Two on one hand and three on the other. Half of them almost looked backwards

“Hi, my name’s Crypt.” It announced in a playful tone.

Micro’s expression didn’t change, nor did he speak. He had never met another zetraloid before.

“Are you broken??”

He shook his head.

“What are you doing here?” Micro’s whispery voice echoed in the empty room.

“Beats me.” Crypt shrugged, his long fingers clanking against the ground, “They put me here, and there I was!”

Micro stared longer. The creature seemed so different in some ways yet so similar in others.

“They kept talking about colosseums.” Crypt made himself right at home near the corner Mirco had taken, “And failure. They said that a lot too.”


“Yep.” Crypt had already bedded himself down contently as if he was used to being moved to unfamiliar locations, “Something with fighting, clawing, death, blood, plasma, gore, you get the idea.”

Micro’s curiosity was perked but he didn’t know where to begin with questions. He was beginning to make a connection between the two though—failure and colosseum.

“Oh, and nice to meet you.” Crypt added, extending a claw in greeting, “We’re both clones, practically brothers.”

How Crypt could be a clone yet look so different didn’t even cross Micro’s mind. He sat alone, pondering the meaning of what he had been told.

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Tue Mar 16, 2010 4:10 am

Chapter Six

“Remember one thing; you’ll always be a work of science to me.”

Micro’s helmet fins twitched as he stared at his creator. He hadn’t seen the man in months, or maybe it had been years. He had long lost count in the room of darkness. The man had a hint of sadness to his overall composure. His shoulders sagged as if a weight were atop each in turn.

Micro opened his mouth to ask a question but never had the chance. A hard shove from what looked to be another zetraloid rolled him into the next room. Before the door slid down he saw his creator with a few others gathered around. Dejectedly, he sat up.

What was his purpose? And why wouldn’t anyone tell him anything?

Micro’s helmet fins perked, creating a sound similar to a sword sliding from its sheath. He gazed around the room. It was far too quiet. He rose to his feet and snagged a better a look.

A large, cube-shaped, device hung from the ceiling while the walls looked as if they consisted of several overlapping sheets—his reflection shown off of their slick surface. He strained his transmitters for any sounds and heard an exceedingly faint buzz. At once, a spear-like prong shot out of the wall. Micro didn’t move as the booming crash echoed into a dull cranking sound. The arm retracted.

Something most certainly was wrong with this room. His line of vision traced to the ground. Several small chunks of metal were strewn about and with a sudden foreboding sense of danger, he noticed a zetraloid very similar to himself crushed into the wall. Or at least the top half was.

Again an arm shot out, this time higher. Micro swiftly moved to the side and was alerted by another wall panel bursting open. The spear skimmed over his shoulder. Another spear shot out at head height. Micro wrapped himself close around it as three spears scoured his armor from all sides.

He let go as the arm jerked to retract and barely evaded the spear at his feet. The room was small with nowhere to run. Micro leapt with grace over two that shot underfoot. He grasped the next in his hand, flinging himself into the air to avoid several more. He wasn’t sure where the reflex had come from but it was saving his life.

The arms all repulsed, making room for the cube to detach. It landed with a thud and sent a shockwave across the floor. Micro was ready for it this time. He braced himself for whatever was inside of it. The sudden rush was more thrilling than he had imagined.

For the first time from his creation, he was able to exert all his stored energy. He felt fantastic, dodging all the incoming spear arms that had started again. He found it was easier now, as if second nature.

The lights ebbed away into darkness as the arms withdrew for the last time. The cube in the center had only released pulses that changed Micro’s tracking ability. Even so, he had managed to avoid the spears fine.

With all the threats gone, Micro gave one last glimpse around before contently coming to rest in the center of the room. The door shot up with a hiss. Several men in white coats walked in.

“Interesting, it actually has some of the Hunter instinct.”

Micro held his head up proudly towards the taller creatures. Finally, it seemed he had proven himself worthy to them. The men walked out of the room without saying another word. It was as if his worth had vanished as hastily as the battle had lasted. Micro sighed, his helmet fins clanking together.

“Why can’t I do anything right?” He gazed up at the ceiling with frustrated determination.

Just then a man in shades of gray entered. Beside him, the same zetraloid stood.

“You want them to train that little scrap?” The zetraloid cast a contemptuous glance at Micro as he spoke.

Micro’s helmet fins flattened. He wasn’t affected that much by his height was he?

The zetraloid came over to Micro and paused. He looked the small zetraloid over and nodded his head.

“Come with me.”

Micro took a hesitant step forward.

“Get a move on!” The zetraloid snapped, “I don’t have all day!”

Micro expedited his pace. They passed through halls very similar to what he had seen before, but instead of returning to the dark room, they had taken a sharp left down a narrowing and darkening hall. It sloped into a gentle curve, rotating as it spiraled down.

Micro couldn’t see over the high, black, steel, railings but he got the feeling they were traveling a ways down. It folded out into a massive expanse. The entire floor was curled into a circular pattern. Light poured through skylight windows, speckling the floor.

A railing trailed the length of the room, its silver surface much like the ones he had seen before. The floor underfoot felt hollow as his foot glided over it, sending vibrations up his leg. Glass reflected their images as they carried on.

The zetraloid came to an abrupt stop. Micro bumped into him and stepped back apologetically. His burning glare settled on the small zetraloid.

“Watch where you’re going, scrap!”

“Sorry.” Micro breathed.

The two continued on without another word. They had stopped outside a steel, black, door. Nearby it smelled of metal fragments and dust.

“Ready, kid?”

The zetraloid cracked the door open as Micro drew near.

“What’s in—“ the zetraloid shoved him forward, Micro uttered a cry of confusion as he was swept off his feet into the darkness.

“Good luck, kid!” the zetraloid’s shout echoed after Micro as he spiraled into the expanse of darkness.

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Tue Mar 16, 2010 4:11 am

Chapter Seven

A loud buzzing rang in Micro’s transmitters. Alerted, his eyes popped open and his feet scrambled to get footing. Laughter echoed all around him. He couldn’t see a thing. Back and forth his head swung making out only faint silhouettes through the dark cloth over his eyes.

A shrill screech made him flinch. The heat of the saw that had revved to life stung his transmitter.

“Who are you?” A voice bathed in darkness and ill intent asked.

Micro directed his head towards where it had come from.

“Micro…I think.”

“Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

Micro’s helmet fins twitched twice rapidly. He had never possessed a normal voice.

“My name is Micro.” His voice still came out nothing more than a medium whisper.

The laughter broke out yet again as they removed the blindfold. To his surprise, several copies of himself stood around. Some taller and others bulkier—he was the smallest. At the center was a medium sized clone.

Micro swept the room for clues on how he had ended up here. It appeared that the other zetraloid had propelled him over the stair railing with his shove.

“Pretty fancy fall you took. Where ya from? What ya here for?” He gave Micro a push along, “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Micro could hardly imagine the room had anything worth seeing. Thus far it had been nothing but plasma stained floor; bone chilling to his feet and dust caked so thick it mustn’t have been cleaned in years—if ever.

“Welcome to your new home and grave!” There was a glint in the zetraloid’s eyes that made Micro wonder if he intended to help speed up the ‘grave’ aspect. Upon seeing the lack of enthusiasm from Micro he added, “Might as well get used to it bud, ain’t gettin’ any better than this.”

Faint shuffling footsteps drew Micro’s attention to a dark hall lit only hazily by the deep orange glow of small lights that lined the wall. The man looked far too sinister for Micro’s liking, almost emitting a feel of dark hatred.

“You’re the new one.” The man’s eyes trailed to Micro.

Micro attempted to shake his doubt away, but the man’s cruel, dark, eyes shown of no mercy. His mouth was straight with indifference and his trench coat was lined with unidentifiable tools. He noticed the man had unusual boots protected with sharp spikes.

The clone he had been with dipped its head in greeting and hurried away.

“Who are you?” it was worded as a command rather than a question.

“Micro.” His gaze checked the man uncertainly.

The man’s outstretched hand reached for him but he flattened his helmet fins. The hand grazed past his head. With a sigh the man reached lower and snatched one of his four helmet fins. To Micro’s surprise, he didn’t cry out in pain. He was wearing protective gloves with spikes lining the tops. Micro winced as he jerked up harshly.

“Hmm, you’re a different one.” He studied Micro’s odd eyes for a moment as the zetraloid balanced on the tip of his feet to lessen the pain, “A rookie, eh?”

He snapped his fingers. In an instant, a zetraloid identical to Micro was there. It rammed its fist into Micro’s stomach then stood beside the man like a loyal servant. Micro cringed and stumbled back as the man released him.

“Assessment time.”

Micro didn’t budge. This man was too strange and he didn’t like him to begin with. The man snapped his fingers again. This time the zetraloid sprung forward and took Micro down with it in a tackle.

Micro scrambled to get free. His legs and feet scraped the ground under the weight of the other as he thrashed back and forth. The other leapt up again and circled Micro. Ferociousness glittered in his eyes as he circled yet again. Micro retreated back several steps as it came closer to him.

It surged forward as Micro set out at a full blown retreat. His swiftness allowed him to outrun the other but three more had appeared, blocking his path. Regret flowed through his tense body as he backed into the stone wall. Once again the zetraloid lunged at him, uttering some kind of growl sounding threat as he pinned Micro to the ground. He applied extreme pressure to Micro’s throat, choking him.

The snap of fingers echoed through the room and at once, all the zetraloids stopped dead in their tracks.

“Nicely done, Snarl.”

The zetraloid dipped his head as he rose with head still bowed. The man stepped around him to stand before Micro whom was upside down on the ground still. Micro’s breathing was heavy as he gazed at the boots before him.

“Pathetically horrendous. Where was your aggression?”

“A…aggression?” Micro panted in confusion.

A smirk slid across the man’s face as he motioned for Snarl to haul Micro to his feet. He whipped out a thin, steel, bar and struck Micro across the face. Snarl winced at the sight while Micro fell to the ground and covered his face.

Plasma immediately welled up to the surface and trickled from the stinging wound. Snarl hauled him to his feet yet again as the man cast his hard and unwavering gaze on the zetraloid.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Tue Mar 16, 2010 4:12 am

Chapter Eight

Micro stood face to face with Snarl. Uncertainty shown in his concerned eyes as the two stared each other down. The man, Caine Durkin, sat reclined in a stiff, metal chair as he watched. Snarl, true to his name, persistently sounded like he was snarling. His needle-like teeth shimmered ominously.

Micro took a step back and gulped apprehensively. He didn’t understand any of what was going on. The man snapped his fingers and Snarl tackled Micro to the ground. Micro pulled his helmet fins flat against his head and closed his eyes as he braced himself, turning his head to one side.

Caine sighed and snapped his fingers again. Snarl shot to attention and stepped back from Micro. Caine hovered above the small zetraloid and gave him a bored gaze.

“You’re supposed to fight back.” He returned to his chair, it creaked beneath his weight as he got situated, “Let’s try this again.”

Snarl waited tensely for the order. The snap echoed in the empty room and Snarl launched himself at Micro. The two plummeted across the floor. Snarl raised his arm and hopped back. His helmet fins shot straight up as he rammed Micro’s arm. It pierced through both sides with a sickening slurp. Blood spurted from the wound as Micro yelped in pain. Still he made no attempt to get free.

Snarl tore away and shook blood from his helmet fins as he leapt at Micro again. He went after the already injured arm, bringing Micro to the ground yet again. He raised a fist and brought it down on Micro’s transmitter.

The static hurt Micro’s head as he retreated. Caine snapped his fingers twice and Snarl hooked Micro’s foot out from underneath him causing him to flip through the air and land hard on his back.

“Come here.”

Micro’s helmet fins twitched as he forced himself up and scuffled over to Caine.

“Where’s your aggression?”

Micro blinked with naïve innocence. His arm was throbbing and he could hardly understand why the human wanted so many things. What more could he want? Micro rubbed his arm and frowned.

Caine sighed, “Look at Snarl.”

Micro did as instructed only to jump in surprise at the incredible surge that traveled down his neck. It burst into flaming pain as he hopped to the side and scratched to soothe it. Caine was holding what appeared to be something similar to a taser and looking none too thrilled.

“I didn’t tell you that you could leave yet. Get back here.”

Micro didn’t budge. He was in no hurry to be zapped again. Caine’s expression grew all the more dark.

“I said get over here.”

Reluctantly Micro took a few steps forward and after some time, once again stood in front of Caine. Much to Micro’s surprise, the man tried to zap him again. He jumped back just in time, but now Caine was grinning. He motioned for Micro to come back with his index finger. Micro gave him a glance as if he were crazy and refused to move.

Caine snapped his fingers and Snarl knocked Micro forward from behind and held him down. He growled fairly quiet as if he were a trained dog.

“You and me need to get something straight.” Caine leaned against his knee as he gazed down. He pressed the taser against Micro’s neck again, his thumb hovering over the button to activate it.

Snarl held Micro in place despite his struggle. Caine pressed the button and held it a short time. The electricity hissed to life and flashed against Micro. Micro yelped as the pain came stinging back. He shook his head and tried to get free again while the sting refused to leave as hastily.

“And that is, I’m in charge.”

Again he pressed the device against Micro’s tender neck. This time it made one of his bloodlines burst. Micro coughed as he forced Snarl away although he was already backing off. Caine tilted Micro’s head to face him with his steel bar, “Understand?”

Micro was about to reply but instead erupted in a spasm of coughing. Amongst the twinge, some of the blood flung onto Caine’s face. He blinked as his helmet fins twitched—Caine had taken it as a sign of rebellion.With all the rage he held for it, he swung the steel bar at Micro, scoring a new mark across his face.

Micro stumbled back, coughing once again as Caine rose, gripping his tool tight.

“You want to make this difficult? Bring it on you little scrap! You’ll change your mind.”

Micro stopped coughing just in time to see the tool coming towards him. Fleeing would do no good now. Caine gripped one of his helmet fins and unleashed all his fury through the tool, striking Micro in rapid succession.

Micro cringed and tried running from all angles but Caine had too good of a grip. Plasma mingled with blood as both trickled down Micro’s battered body. No matter what he did, the beating wouldn’t stop. Each strike felt as if it were bringing him closer to the ground.

A hard jab to the back of his shoulder blade finally brought him to his knees. His helmet fins fell to the sides in exhaustion and pain. Plasma dripped from his chin as he tried to steady his breathing.

Searing pain tugged all over, screaming for a break. Caine stepped back as Snarl landed on top of Micro and sank his teeth into the beaten zetraloid’s shoulder. Micro yelped but instead of cowering away, retaliated in pain, swinging his arm around to dislodge Snarl.

Snarl growled and drilled his teeth into Micro’s arm. He flung Micro across the room. Micro skidded into a wall, crashing rather hard. Chips of block bounced off his red and black helmet.

Micro cowered in the corner as Snarl confronted him and planted his foot decisively atop the other’s head as he uttered a growly laugh. Micro cringed as the pressure built up. Snarl grabbed his throat with one hand and began to choke him before tossing him down again.

Micro tumbled away—too pained to bother stopping himself. His legs beneath him were shaky as he balanced clumsily on them.

“Fight back!”

His breathing was shallow now. Snarl circled around again, once more, lunging. His stronger body forced Micro down with ease. More desperate to escape this time, Micro squirmed free then collapsed. Snarl snorted in disgust and stepped down on Micro’s head again. He held his own head high in triumph after a moment.

“Well done, Snarl.” Caine acknowledged before letting his gaze trail to Micro, “Don’t worry, you. I’ll make you into something worthwhile.”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Tue Mar 16, 2010 4:14 am

Chapter Nine

Micro pushed himself against one of the walls of the small cage. For some reason, Caine really didn’t like him. All night long the man had been tormenting him with a sharp, pronged device that danced with electricity at its tips.

Micro frowned as he retreated to the opposite side again. The device came inches from his face. His arms were punctured their entire length as were his legs while a mixture of blood and plasma pooled by his feet.

The prong jabbed near his ribs. He cringed but didn’t try and run. Caine twisted the device back and forth, creating a small hole. Blood trickled from the newest injury. Micro gazed up to meet Caine’s malevolent smile. An electric current flowed through his body making it convulse and crash against the cage.

He hopped to his feet and slammed himself into the next wall. There was no escape, no break. Desperately he flung himself at the cage wall again, knocking himself off his feet. The prong struck his tender arm. He clenched his teeth and braced himself as the electricity flowed through his body once more.

“Do something about it!” Caine provoked as he struck the zetraloid several more times.

Despite his taunts, Micro did nothing more than try to escape. Caine thrust the prong through his arm, pinning it to the ground. Electricity burst through his arm. Micro winced.

Caine shoved the cage door open and whistled. A zetraloid bounded across the room and barreled into Micro, sweeping him clean off his feet. The prong tore free as Micro tumbled into the corner. His limbs felt as though they had been stretched from his body.

The zetraloid lumbered towards him and dived. He landed atop Micro and his crushing weight kept the small zetraloid from moving.

“You’re a failure, Micro.” Caine ridiculed, “Can’t you even defend yourself?”

With the other zetraloid still holding him in place, Caine swiped his steel bar across Micro’s face again, then three more times in rapid succession. Micro twisted his head back and forth, legs kicking as he tried to squirm free.

The zetraloid’s weight was crushing his small body. He could feel the blood in his bloodlines thump heatedly. With much more stress, they would start bursting again. Aware of his overpowered state, he went limp, eyes closed in defeat. The zetraloid above him looked to Caine with question filled eyes.

“Get the chain.”

The zetraloid nodded its head and hurried away to do as instructed. Caine watched Micro’s quivering form lying on the ground while he waited.

“No hatred? No aggression…yet you are a Shapeshifter Hunter. Intriguing.”

He took the chain from the zetraloid upon its return and wrapped it around Micro’s neck, twisting it on both sides. Dragging the zetraloid out, he tethered the chain to two bolt locks protruding from the empty walls.

Taking a step towards Micro, he poked the injured zetraloid with his bar. Micro stirred after awhile. His face was weary from pain and lack of sleep. The four black helmet fins that adorned his head drooped to both sides. It was plain to see the zetraloid wanted nothing more than simple peace.

Caine prodded his head for near half an hour, refusing to let the tired zetraloid sleep. One of Micro’s helmet fins twitched in annoyance. His legs were exhausted and scarcely supported him from being strangled. He coughed as the chain tightened around his small neck.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Micro’s helmet fins flattened. Caine smacked the side of his head, flinging plasma down. His expression grew darker; the pain was beginning to get to him.

“Do you hate me?”

Again he smacked the zetraloid. Micro lashed back at the bar when it drew near, desperate to be left alone. He was numb to the sting from the connection of his hand and bar.

“Get it, Micro. Kill it.”

Caine struck the zetraloid again and again. With each strike, Micro grew more aggravated. He batted at it more violently, knocking it free from Caine’s grasp. Plasma had drenched his white hand.

Caine smirked as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He wrapped an old sheet around Micro’s neck and up the length of the rope. Micro tried tugging free from the chains but it was impossible.

Flames rose from the sheet tips and fanned out towards him. More frantic now, he tried to break away. The blistering heat was already nipping at his neck and heating the chain.

“See, I’m in charge.” Caine stated matter of factly, “And you’re at my mercy.”

Micro yelped and struggled as the flames circled his neck.

“I told you to fight back today and you didn’t do that, did you?”

Micro shook his head, only half conscious of what Caine was saying. The searing pain around his neck had blinded all his senses to feel nothing but helplessness and panic. At last the flames began to die. Micro erupted in fitful coughing as smoke choked him. Caine grabbed the zetraloid’s tender neck in his gloved hand.

“So then, tell me, are you ready to do as I tell you?”

Micro nodded his head and coughed. His breathing was ragged and unsteady as tears slid down his flame scorched face, leaving behind trails in the darkened gray soot that had layered atop it.

Caine snapped his fingers as he undid the chain. Snarl was by his side in an instant.

Micro coughed in disbelief, and gasped for fresh air. “You mean now?”

“Do we need to go through that again?” Caine shoved one hand into a pocket.

Micro shook his head.

“Good.” He snapped his fingers and Snarl launched himself through the air.

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Tue Mar 16, 2010 4:15 am

Chapter Ten

Micro and Snarl hit the ground with a thud. Micro scrabbled to get footing as Snarl sank his teeth into his shoulder. He shoved Snarl off and rolled over. Snarl rammed into him, sending him spiraling back to the ground. The aggressive zetraloid’s arm transformed to a dagger like tip. He thrust it through Micro’s foot before the small zetraloid had time to dodge.

Micro cringed and stumbled to the ground.

“Get back up, wimp.”

He forced himself back up at Caine’s command and blocked the dagger with his arms before being thrown back to the ground. Shaking his head, he regained his footing and ambled forward. Snarl was already waiting with a smirk. He sighed; Snarl looked hungry for battle and plasma shed.

He gathered enough energy to bound out of Snarl’s way, landing gracefully on his feet. A new sense of determination flowed through him. He felt renewed with strength. All tiredness had faded. He watched as Snarl prowled around him, ready to strike at any time.

What was he waiting for anyway?

Micro’s helmet fins flattened against his head as Snarl lunged towards him. The two collided but he lashed back with a savage blow to the other’s face. Almost surprised, Snarl stumbled back and blinked. Micro crept forward, confidence flooding through him. If he impressed Caine, maybe he would be set free.

Snarl surged forward yet again. This time Micro dashed to one side and attacked from behind. His quick feet allowed him to make easy work of it. Flinging Snarl to the ground, he took a step back and panted.

Caine snapped his fingers.

Relief flooded over Micro as he slumped against the wall. His still injured body had begun to ache furiously and with a tinge of regret, he noticed blood had begun to trickle from his neck.

Snarl looked reasonably peaceful now as he got up. Micro’s helmet fins twitched as he watched, still cautious of a possible attack.

“You’re pretty fast.”

Micro dipped his head appreciatively, “Thank you.”

Caine had left the two to talk, apparently content with progress made.

“That’s it?”

“Should there be more?” Micro’s face shown with embarrassment.

“I guess not.” Snarl cast Micro a gaze that made the zetraloid wonder if he should trust anything Snarl said.

Micro shook his head—it was the scientists, not Snarl. The silence between the two was growing awkward. Micro searched his mind for something to say.

“So…your name’s Snarl,” He began, “How come?”

His eyes went wide before he hung his head down. The tips of his helmet fins each drooped. The last word had come out sounding more like a high pitched squeak. Snarl clutched his side as he pointed and laughed.

“I see why you only whisper!”

“I…I can’t help it…” Micro answered, regret underlining his tone.

“A puny height and a puny voice! Micro, they are gonna tear you to shreds!”

“Who? That…human?” Micro’s helmet fins flicked.

“No, lead-brain!” Snarl growled, “The other clones. Anyway, if you haven’t noticed, I’m fierce in battle.”

“Very.” Micro praised the taller zetraloid contently.

Snarl held his head high, “That’s where I get my name. Don’t worry, I can already tell how you got yours.” He finished in a sneer.

Micro’s gaze trailed to the side. Was it that obvious? Blood trickled down his neck and stained the charcoal tinged joints of his armor.

“They should’ve named you Blood. It’d sound better for the fight.”

Micro shuttered. He would hate to have that name—it would only remind him of that horrible day.

“What fight??”

The fight.” Snarl snapped, “Don’t you ever listen?”

“I listen a lot.” Micro blinked, “Just…no one ever decides to tell me stuff.”

Snarl shrugged, “Doesn’t matter anyway, they’ll turn you into a scrap heap faster than it’s worth wasting the breath on.”

“But I—“

“Besides.” Snarl’s eyes were gleaming as he sauntered into a crowded room with other clones. He flung himself on an old, worn out mattress. Dust puffed from it in clouds, “I wouldn’t want to give you nightmares.

Micro’s helmet fins flattened, “Hey!”

Snarl grinned, “Shut your whinin’ and go to sleep.”

Micro glanced around. A few zetraloids were sharing old mattresses strewn about the room. Elsewhere they clumped together on sheets and blankets. Figuring Snarl wouldn’t share, Micro curled up on the fringe of a blanket beside the mattress. The room was silent, filled only by the soft breathing of others. A few nearby noses had wrinkled in disgust within moments but it was Snarl who spoke.

“Micro.” He whispered, but the little zetraloid had already begun to drift asleep, “Micro!!”

“Wha-what?” Micro’s head jerked up as he shot his gaze around with half open eyes.

“You reek.”

“Sorry.” He muttered apologetically.

“Sorry doesn’t double as an air freshener!”

Micro’s helmet fins drooped as murmurs of agreement sounded from all around. A zetraloid, his armor well shined, lay stretched on an actual bed, complete with blankets. His nose, as well, twitched.

“Just…” Snarl glanced around until he spotted a burlap sack at the far edge of the room, “Go over there. And for your own sake, hope you don’t wake up Crow. He’ll tear you to shreds.”

“Who’s that?” Micro asked as he rose to his feet.

Snarl gestured towards the zetraloid on the bed—none of the others could see his hand but he had heard Micro had better night vision. Micro nodded his head as he lay on the rough burlap. It hardly made for a decent doormat let alone a bed.

The roused zetraloids settled down as Micro’s intense stench faded. It was cold in this lonely corner. His helmet fins twitched. Things were still looking bleak for his life. The future was uncertain and he found himself lingering on Snarl’s words as he gave in to sleep.

Blood would’ve been a better name for the fight. What fight? And why?

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Tue Mar 16, 2010 4:17 am

Chapter Eleven

“Oww…” Micro whimpered as he rolled over in his sleep. Again he felt the sharp poke to his side.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

Micro opened one eye to see Snarl glaring at him. His eye shut again. Snarl growled as his feet clanked away from the sleeping zetraloid; the noise faded out of the room. Micro thought he could hear the faint sound of their return shortly after but shrugged it off, snuggling closer to the scratchy burlap of his bed.

“Oww!” Micro’s eyes shot open as he hopped to his feet and spun around to face Snarl.

The zetraloid was gazing fiercely at him and holding the sharp spear Caine had been carrying the night before—Apparently the man had left it out.

“That hurt!” Micro’s helmet fins flattened, “Why’d you do that?”

“Needed you awake. And besides, I didn’t want to hear you whining all day about being at a disadvantage by being injured in attacking and defending.”

“And that doesn’t?

Snarl shrugged, “Never met a zetraloid who fought with their backside—you must be a first!”

“I do not!” Micro found himself snapping defensively.

“Then stop whining and come on.”

Micro followed halfheartedly, “Now I won’t be able to sit down.”

“Good. You’ll be standing anyway.”

Micro rolled his eyes; his armor plates had bristled out, making him look as prickly as a cactus. Snarl had led him to a large room where all the others had already ventured. The room was hollow of furniture. Rough cement hurt his feet to glide over and he was forced to resort to walking like everyone else. He’d never done it before and it proved to be harder than he had expected. His legs wobbled with each step.

Micro peeked inside the room. The others were all staring up at Crow as he spoke. Snarl sighed and shoved Micro through the door. He crashed into a taller zetraloid who gave him a scrutinizing glare.

“Sorry.” He murmured before turning to Snarl, “How come Crow is talking?”

“He’s the team leader.”

“What team?”

This team.” Snarl’s voice was harsh even if it were only a whisper.

“I can’t see him.”

“That’s because you’re short.

Micro’s helmet fins twitched at Snarl’s comment. Crow had finished and the others were filing out. He stopped in front of Snarl and Micro.

“Who are you?”

Micro glanced to Snarl.

“Don’t look at me!” He hissed, “You should know who you are!”

Micro tried to keep his armor from rotating again, “Micro.”

“Fitting.” He sniffed the air and frowned, “You’re what I smelled last night.”

Micro tried to hide his embarrassment.

“I can’t help it, honest!”

“Your voice sounds strange.”

“It’s better than when he squeaks.” Snarl chimed in.

Crow just nodded and moved on.

“Come on, I’ll teach you to fight.” Snarl nudged Micro, “You’ll need it.”

“But…I can.”

“You call that fighting?” Snarl lunged at him without warning. The small zetraloid was barreled over as Snarl pinned him to the ground, “Do you want to be torn limb from limb? Your eyes gouged out? Feel your throat pulse in another’s hands as they tear it out?” Snarl pressed down on his neck. A small stream of blood trickled over his hand. Micro quickly shook his head beneath the pressure. “Then get up and stop arguing.”

Snarl, without doubt, was demanding. Micro shook the dirt off of himself and stood, giving Snarl a blank stare.

“You don’t get it do you?” Snarl shook his head.

“Not really.”

The ill-tempered zetraloid abruptly froze at the sound of approaching footsteps. Caine. Micro stuck close beside Snarl. He wondered why Snarl would be afraid though. Caine seemed to like him.

The man said nothing as he stared at the two. Snarl refused to make eye contact with him. Without much thought, he gazed up at Caine. The metal bar crushed the top of his nose and forced his head to look back at the ground. His hand instantly reached to comfort his throbbing nose but Caine struck it brutally. With a sharp sting, Micro retracted his arm and clenched both fists at his sides. Plasma and blood streamed from his nose and dripped from his chin.

“Snarl…” Caine slapped the bar soundly against the left side of his face, “You were to train him.”

Micro winced, despite not being hit himself. He knew it must’ve hurt, but Snarl said nothing.

“No more failures, understand?”

Snarl gave one, firm nod. Caine turned and walked away. Once out of sight, Snarl rounded to face Micro, instantly glaring at him. He grabbed the zetraloid by two of his helmet fins, tugging them sharply then raised his balled fist. Micro flinched.

“You got me in trouble, you dunce!”

Snarl rammed his fist into Micro’s jaw.

“I didn’t mean to!” Micro squeaked.

He tried to shield his face as Snarl readied for another strike.

“Put your arms down!”

“But it hurts!”

“That’s the whole point!”

Snarl grabbed one arm and fought against the smaller zetraloid, jerking back and forth.

“You said you didn’t want to put me at a disadvantage!”

Snarl threw Micro and sent him skidding across the cement. He scrabbled for decent footing as Snarl came full charge. He pounced atop Micro and landed a fierce blow with the back of his arm.

“Consider this your first glance of training!”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Tue Mar 16, 2010 4:18 am

Chapter Twelve

“Hey Micro, come here!”

Micro sauntered along with pain filled steps. His body ached from all the training he had gone through. He wasn’t sure which was worse—the lonely room or all the fighting. Downcast, he entered, only to be hit by a blast of ice cold water.

He yelped as he smashed against a wall. A torrent of water, so thick he couldn’t see its end, blasted him. The water slapped against him as if rocks were being thrown, causing his feet to slip and slide on the wet floor as he struggled to no success.

He could hear drowned out cries of victory and jeering laughter beyond the water. The torrent gradually disappeared into nothing more than puddles. To his dismay, Crow stood with hose in hand—apparently he had doused him in water. Its frigid sting pricked his face as he stood and shook himself off.

“Sowwy.” Crow laughed in a baby talk voice.

Micro shot him a stone cold glare as water dripped from his chin. The cold had made his actuators tense, locking him in a rigid stance. After a moment he forced himself to relax, not wanting to fight Crow of all zetras. He was so much bigger and strong looking. His solid black armor made him look like a bad omen—whatever that was.

Crow and the others filed around him and dispersed in the room beyond. Micro’s helmet fins twitched as he gazed at the plasma stained walls. There had to be more to life than this; it couldn’t possibly be the entire purpose.

Everything was far too consistent. He had free roam of the long, dreary halls with the dim lights—not that he wanted to travel them. Fight, sleep, repeat. Micro began pacing. He could feel plasma and blood pulse through his body. A cage. It was like a giant cage. His eyes flashed back and forth. No escape. This was his fate.

No, it can’t be…

He hadn’t noticed how far he had wandered, now in front of the thick window of Caine’s office. Its dark tint made it near impossible for the common zetraloid to see through. Micro strained his eyes to get a better look. An assortment of tools lay strewn across the table while a dark figure was lumbering over a much smaller one. He heard a weak whimper and watched as the smaller figure fell limp to the ground.

Caine was heading to the door now. Micro scrambled away from the window, his mind racing. He shouldn’t have stopped here. What if Caine knew? What if he was mad? The man was hardly ever in a good mood and he very well may be accused of spying if caught so near the office.

The door clicked open.


Instinctively he turned to face the one who called his name. A sharp smack from the steel bar reminded him not to look up at the man. He held back a response to the pain and looked down. Fresh droplets of plasma were speckling the floor.

“What brings you here?”

“A walk.” Micro answered flatly, it was at least partially true, and if he was lucky enough, believable.

“No training? Surely you’re not ready.”

“I…tire of…fighting.” He tried to hide his hatred of training but his helmet fins still flattened behind his head.

“Interesting.” Caine shifted his weight as he mulled it over, one hand grazing the length of his steel bar, “I think I’ve got a cure for that.”

Micro’s helmet fins perked briefly at the prospect.

Caine tilted Micro’s head up with the bar, “Follow me.”

The doors in front of them hissed open. Long chains dangled from above, thrashing furiously as the swamp cooler blasted them with humid air smelling of mold. Caine’s voice was near drowned out behind the rattle of the cooler but Micro followed regardless, not that he had a choice anyway.

To one side, he noticed a large tank filled with strange liquid. To the other side, short chains protruded from the wall. The cobble path beneath his feet was worn and chipped, snagging his foot painfully. Just a short distance ahead, twenty jail-like cells lined both sides of the path. Most already had a zetraloid inside. Each looked notably fierce.

They stopped in front of the empty cell. Caine opened it with a key and reached down to ensure Micro’s collar was fastened securely.


Before he could finish, Caine shoved him in and slammed the door shut again. Without another word, the man walked away. The sound of his presence faded to the thunder of the cooler.

Micro forced himself up again and gazed around. His core felt as if it were going to burst as he tried to steady his breathing. Where was he? And why was he locked up?

He heard the door shut down the hall with the faintest of clicks. At once an eruption of chatter broke out.

“Where’s Dart?”

“Who are you?”

“Shut up.”

“Is he coming back?”


“I said shut up!”

“Don’t mind him, he’s always like that.”

“Who are you??”

Micro pushed himself back against the far wall, eyes huge with fear. He breathed so shallow that he became near silent. A pound on the wall beside him caused him to dash forward, only to crash into the bars. He tumbled back and shook his head. Doubles danced in front of him, toying with his vision.

“Who are you?” A voice raised above the others.

Micro’s words caught in his throat.

“Who are you?! Will you freakin’ grow up and talk to us?!”

“Oh calm down, Snap.”

His head whirled with voices. He shut his eyes and pulled his helmet fins close to his head. What had he gotten himself into?

“Who are you?”

“M-Micro.” He whispered at last as silence finally fell.

“Micro?” A voice across the way echoed back.

“Y-yeah, where—”

“Have you seen Dart?”

Micro shook his head, “You’re not making any sense. I-I don’t know a Dart. I know Crow…and—”

“Dart isn’t much bigger than you.”

“Crow…he’s such a—”

“Hush, Snap. Dart left not very long ago.”

“With Caine.”

“Shortly before you came.”

“We need him to complete our team.”

“Team?” Micro asked.

“Where’s Dart?”

“I…I don’t kn—”

“They were going to Caine’s office. Think he was in trouble.”

Micro’s core sank at once, body hollow with dread.

“I…I think he’s dead.”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Tue Mar 16, 2010 4:20 am

Chapter Thirteen

“No!” A voice wailed from down the hall.

“Calm yourself, Dodge.”

Micro felt utterly helpless where he sat, listening to the cries of despair echo around him. He wished there was something more he could do for the zetraloids.

“We all knew he wasn’t doing well today, come now, this won’t help at all.”

“But he’s gone! We’re missing part of our team!”

“And why are you here?” Snap echoed from down the hall.

Micro jumped, “I…I don’t know…I was walking by and—”

“Poor Dart!”

“Shut it, Dodge! We go out in five!”

Micro sighed and curled up against a corner as the chatter continued. They didn’t seem to care about his opinion. He supposed it didn’t matter anyway.


Micro’s attention jolted to life, “Yeah?”

“You’re our new teammate.”

“For what?”

The cell doors all opened and the zetraloids filed together.

“No time to explain. Stick close.”

“To who?”

Micro squinted his eyes as the other zetraloids pushed him along. The solid ground beneath gave way to soft sand. Excited cheers echoed from all around like a wild crowd. Still, Micro couldn’t see correctly. The brightness overhead was intense, blinding him of all his surroundings to the point they only appeared dim gray leading to a bright white center.


A zetraloid beside him surged forward and collided with another. Finally, Micro’s eyes adjusted. Humans sat far above, behind the rim of massive walls. Before him laid an expanse with several zetraloids. Micro took a step back and hit the bars that now blocked his escape route. The two zetraloids who had collided now stood face to face glaring. A booming voice echoed all around, welcoming people to the ‘colosseum.’

The colosseum! This was what they had been talking about! And the fight. This must be it. Micro noticed everyone else was taller than him.

“Hey you!” One of the zetraloids he had walked out with whispered, “Come on!”

The announcer was naming off the zetraloids and telling a bit about them—namely why they were considered defective, yet each held its head high in defiance to the acclaimed failure bestowed upon it.

“And then we have…well I’m not sure who that is!”

Micro noticed dissatisfied enough, that they had meant him. Still the crowd shouted a jumble of replies. All of the people resembled the scientists that still haunted Micro’s memory. He wondered if any of the ones who had hurt him were amongst the uniform group.

A zetraloid barreled into him pursued by another. The two fought and tore at each other with no remorse. Plasma splashed Micro’s face as one of the two went limp. Micro scrambled up only to tumble back as the survivor scowled at him.

“I’m on your side, idiot!”

Micro recognized Snap’s voice as the zetraloid crashed into yet another. He tried to stay at the outer rim of the fight. Another zetraloid crashed down in front of him, gasping for breath and dragging itself along. A taller one leapt atop the injured zetraloid and stabbed through its back. It squirmed before going limp.

“You next.” The standing zetraloid growled.

Micro retreated a few steps, another flopped in front of him, limbs flailing. The zetraloid smirked and stepped on its head, pressing it into the sand. A sickening crunch accompanied a gushing burst of plasma.

The zetraloid was still after him. Frantic, Micro ran forward, blind to the battle. Around him, cries and screeches echoed, but his mind was locked on escape. He scrambled over a three stack pile of others, his feet kicking and slipping in the plasma soaked sand. For a split second he wondered if the very purpose of the sand was to make things harder for them.

He scarcely rolled out of the way of a stab. Hopping up once more, he set off at a sprint, making a sharp left to avoid a few tussling clones. The other zetraloid cut him off. He backed up a small number of steps. The other raised his dagger to strike but a different zetraloid jabbed his elbow into Micro’s pursuer’s side. The zetraloid swung around and stabbed the other in his neck. Plasma drained from around the dagger as the zetraloid tore it free and kicked him back.

Micro gasped as he saw the insane expression of the zetraloid responsible for chasing him. He leapt over a fallen body and rolled underneath a zetraloid being thrown off his feet. A larger zetraloid collapsed atop him, but he dragged himself out from underneath it and carried on.

The battle field was a blur before him. Plasma spurted onto his armor. More splattered against his face. From somewhere to the side, someone hooked his foot out from underneath him and flung him through the air.

Sand whirl-winded around him as he crashed to the ground. The zetraloid who had been chasing him persistently stood above him and pinned his leg down with one foot.

“The weak deserve to die.”

Micro blocked the dagger from his chest with the armor of his arms. Blood trickled from the wound. Again the zetraloid stabbed at him and managed to skim his upper chest armor.

A thin, tall zetraloid came up behind the other and twisted its head until it snapped, but the defeated zetraloid still managed to imbed its dagger in the other’s eye as it fell.

Micro’s rescuer shouted in agony as it grasped the dagger. Micro wished he had had time to warn the zetraloid but another had already ripped it free and stabbed it back through its head.


The zetraloid fell forward. Micro scrambled up after being crushed beneath it. He blinked stinging plasma from his eyes. Only a few zetraloids remained. Time seemed to slow down as his head swung back around to see the zetraloid tear the dagger free. Wiring and plasma fell from its tip.

Micro’s anger focused in on the zetraloid. Meaningless killing? He lunged forward and knocked the zetraloid off balance. His hand’s armor rotated until it formed a wide knife plain. It clashed with the other’s. The other stabbed forward but Micro was too quick. Without thinking, he darted around behind and smashed his hand through the zetraloid’s spine.

The zetraloid doubled over and fell, its limbs flinging out in wild spasms as Micro stepped back, panting heavily. His eyes followed the plasma as it dripped from his hand. Snapping out of his blind hostility, he watched as the zetraloids all around him yelped in pain.

Their collars had activated. Razors in the lining tore at their necks as electricity pulsed through their bodies, ravaging their systems. Eyes dim, each fell to the ground, never to rise again as smoke began to rise from their fallen bodies.

Micro sank to his knees, eyes unblinking. His sight was locked aimlessly straight as the cheers began to die away from his conscience.

Just like that. Dead. Snap, Dodge…everyone.

All at once he lurched forward and gagged. His body began shaking uncontrollably. Eyes wide, his gaze trailed the plasma soaked battlefield, sweeping back and forth agonizingly slow. He swallowed cautiously and continued to shake. Bodies littered the field like garbage.

Caine had come out into the field, walking purposefully to Micro. His long strides brought him to the zetraloid swiftly. With no regard to the zetraloid’s condition, he attached a heavy chain to Micro’s collar and tugged it. Numbly, Micro rose, his legs trembling beneath him.

“That was impressive.” Caine stated as he guided the shocked zetraloid along, “We all like a good fight.”

Micro was unresponsive.

“Which is why I’m going to give you intensive training.”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Thu Mar 18, 2010 11:49 pm

Chapter Fourteen

Stupid creator. Micro sniffed and wiped a lone tear from his cheek. Why’d you have to make me a failure? I don’t want to hurt and kill!

Caine advanced into the room and shut the door behind him. He stepped on the chain connected to Micro’s neck, jerking his head down. Micro frowned but said nothing as Caine came to rest in a nearby recliner chair and took off his boots. One hit his side and he nearly leaped to his feet, ready to defend himself. Caine chuckled as he pulled a thick blanket over himself. Apparently the man’s office was also his room.

“You should get some rest, lots of work for you tomorrow.”

“I’m not tired.” Micro muttered, his eyes trained straight forward. His bottom jaw still quivered from shock.

Caine reached over with his steel bar and struck the small zetraloid’s back with it. Micro remained rigid still and only grimaced.

“I said get some rest.”

Reluctantly, Micro rested his head on his arms and forced his eyes shut. Images of the battle flooded back like waves lapping at the shore, threatening to drag him in to drown in misery. He kept them closed until Caine turned the light off. Sure of his safeness now, he dared open his eyes once again. Thoughts of Dart returned to his mind as he glanced at that corner. Would he be next?

Micro yawned, suddenly aware of his tiredness but every time his eyes began to shut the flashbacks would start. He sighed and let his helmet fins fall to the sides. Caine was snoring, but he didn’t mind. Instead he chose to dwell on his life thus far. Pain and despair, notably. With a final recollection of Crypt. Yes Crypt…what had become of the zetra?

Morning sunlight was unheard of. Anything Micro had ever set foot near had almost always been synthetic. Despite having no rest, he was fully alert.

Caine stumbled out of his chair and stretched his arms far into the air. The man was oblivious to the chain before him. His foot caught in it and he went tumbling forward, landing on his hands and knees. Micro smirked, the tips of his helmet fins twitching in amusement.

Caine rose in a flurry of curses as he kicked the chain aside. After some time he managed to find the light switch and flipped it on. Micro squinted his eyes against the penetrating burst of brightness, instantly being jerked back to the dreary world of colorblindness. He rose to his feet, the heavy chain tugging at his neck. Caine sighed and opened the clamp.

“Come on, you” He rose to his feet, “Time to train.”

I couldn’t care less.

Micro flicked his helmet fins and followed. This was pointless. All of it. Why fight? He glanced around as they walked. Several zetraloids were fighting against each other already. Some were receiving potentially fatal injuries. Noticing Micro’s confused and dismayed expression, Caine stopped.

“Let me explain something to you.”

He pointed towards two zetraloids, circling one smaller one.

Hardly a fair fight.

“Life is tough, like a battlefield.”

The two pinned the small zetraloid down and began to tear at it savagely. Its cries made Micro shudder. Plasma oozed from its wounds. His gaze darted around. Several other zetraloids were plainly standing around watching. Didn’t anyone care? Micro took a step forward, ready to help, but Caine blocked his path.

“No. The weak deserve to die.”

“But it’s unfair.” Micro blurted out.

Caine smacked Micro’s head with his bar.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Micro’s attention dragged back to the small zetraloid. Its limbs flailed as one of the two tore at its face. Flinching, he looked away.

“Don’t cower.” Caine near whispered as if this were thrilling him, “Running solves nothing.”

Micro forced himself to look back, only at the man’s command. A shiver trickled down his spine as he recalled the day before. The face of defeat. Of death. The shrill cries were fading; blood and plasma pulsed through his transmitters. A cold, dreadful, feeling pricked at his body.

“Weed out the weak and the strong will thrive.”

Micro’s helmet fins twitched, eyes locked on every move. A small arm was torn clean from the creature. The others rose and kicked at it. Its body spasmed. Eyes wide with fear and mouth agape, the small zetraloid looked directly at Micro.

For a split moment, Micro saw himself in its place. Death’s dark shadows closing in around him—suffocating him. And then the zetraloid went limp all together. A pool of plasma formed around its little head.

“The weak deserve to die, Micro.” Caine repeated, “Aggression is how one survives.”

Micro’s mind whirled him back to his beginning. Where’s your aggression? And now Caine had said nearly the same thing. Without aggression he didn’t deserve to live.

They’ve been trying to help me all this time![i/] Micro regretted the way he had thought of them,[i] All this time! And I’ve been ignoring it! The weak deserve to die. That is life.

“Were you listening at all, you stupid scrap?”

Micro nodded his head and stood straight to appear as tall as he could. “I was.”

“What did you learn?”

Micro hesitated then gazed confidently forward.

“The weak deserve to die.”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Thu Mar 18, 2010 11:50 pm

Chapter Fifteen

Micro swerved to the side, avoiding the razors of a four-armed, mutant zetraloid. In the same turn, he retraced his steps at swift speeds and jabbed his helmet fins through its arms. The mutant groaned and fell back. He tore free and skidded to a stop on the rough gravel, panting lightly as he watched the mutant attempt to stand only to fail. Its legs were too weak beneath its weight, far too weary from battle with the quick zetraloid.

“What are you waiting for? Finish him!”

Kill him?” Micro answered Caine with a look of surprise, “Is that really—”

“What have I taught you?!”

“The weak deserve to die.” Micro replied without much thought.

“Hesitation is a sign of weakness!”

Furious at the idea of being weak, Micro hurtled himself forward, swinging around in a roundhouse kick to the other’s face. It fell back. He transformed his hand. With one smooth strike, the zetraloid mutant was pinned down by its throat. Its voice gurgled as plasma welled in its mouth, eyes darting both ways wildly as its limbs thrashed.

Micro twisted his knife plane and heard a distinct crack as he watched the zetraloid go limp. This was his fourth kill in the past few weeks and the guilt still lingered in his mind. If he had to kill, at least it didn’t have to be long and painful. It was what a Shapeshifter Hunter zetraloid was created to do he had been told, and that apparently, was what he was.


Micro’s worries were drowned by Caine’s praise. He flung himself in bounds across the gravel surface. Finally! He had found his place. This is what life was. And for once, someone didn’t think he was a failure. Yes that was unquestionably most satisfying.

Snarl was nearby; his head held low and eyes filled with jealousy. The zetraloid had been acting this way, cold as ever, since Caine’s announcement of Micro’s special training.

Caine was effortlessly side tracked when a woman opened the thick door that led to the stairway. Micro restrained himself from glaring. It was the woman who had called him a failure.



The two chattered contently. Micro’s helmet fins twitched. Call me a failure, will you? His helmet fins lowered, flattening out to the sides of his head.

“Why don’t you go practice with Snarl?” Caine’s suggestion was more of a command.

Micro dipped his head and clambered over to Snarl—these rocks were not good for skimming across unless he wanted to be pulling pieces of stone out of his feet all day.

“Well look who it is.” Snarl growled, “Caine’s new pet!”

“I’m no pet.” Micro retorted, equally vile.

“Let’s think…you follow him like a pet, you listen like a pet.” he faked a gasp, “Guess what?! You are one!”

Micro glared. At once, Caine’s voice came through clear amongst the jumble of insults, “Backing down is weakness. The strong fight back.”

I’m not weak!

His armor rotated to prickly points in disgust of the suggestion. He recalled Snarl’s words. A puny voice and height. Intimidation wasn’t on his side.

Then I’ll just have to fight that much harder.

“Hey Bingo, you gonna sit around all day?” Snarl taunted.

Micro didn’t answer, instead lunging at Snarl. He dodged just in time but Micro caught him off guard the second time. Snarl’s leg twisted to the side sharply, but he went on as if nothing had happened, landing a sharp blow to Micro’s face that spun the small zetraloid around in a complete circle.

A bit dazed, Micro stumbled over his own feet. Snarl launched himself forward but the smaller zetraloid dashed underneath him and flipped, landing a sharp kick to his chest.

“Ow!” He growled and coughed.

Micro stalked forward, “I’m not a pet.”

Snarl snorted incredulously.

Micro’s helmet fins flattened, his gaze growing dark as he took another step.

“Okay, okay, you’re not a pet.”

His helmet fins gradually rose as he turned to see what Caine had thought, but the man was preoccupied with Christina. Disappointment tugged at him fiercely.

You can’t always expect approval, stupid.

Acting as if it hadn’t bothered him, he focused on Snarl.

“Come on, let’s train!”

“Tch, with you?” Snarl asked, his voice full of scorn, “No thank you—can’t trust you. For all I know, you might tear out my spine when I turn my back.”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Thu Mar 18, 2010 11:51 pm

Chapter Sixteen

Micro squirmed and rolled over on his burlap bed. It stunk with all the stale blood soaked through. The room lay in complete darkness.

“Do you have to squirm so much?” A voice whispered, “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Sorry. I’m just restless.”

“Go be restless somewhere else.”

“Aren’t you excited?”

“About what?”

“The battle today!”

The zetraloid groaned and rolled over, “Will you shut up about that?”

Micro snorted in disgust at their lack of enthusiasm.

My own teammates…If I were leader things would be different.

Not waiting for anyone else, he crept over their strewn bodies and followed the path familiar to him to reach the colosseum. He wouldn’t be in the battle today, but at least he could watch. He wanted to learn all he could. No one would call him small and weak again.

He worked his way up the narrow stairway with steep steps. It twisted in what felt like circles as he emerged at last. Bright lights lit the arena against the dark shadows. The tall walls surrounding the battlefield had very few scientists watching. He assumed many were busy with early morning work. The best fights were usually later on during the day, but he never had time to watch the night battles because he was usually training.

In the distance, he caught sight of Caine speaking with Christina. He held the ability in hand to kill any of the zetraloids at the flip of a switch and Micro noticed with a shiver of uncertainty how careless he was being with it.

The thick walls made the seating area exceptionally frigid. Bunching his arms close to his small body, he edged forward until he found a spot suitable for his size. The scientists wouldn’t take kindly to him being here but there were few enough that he doubted they would cause trouble.

The announcer’s voice echoed from speakers high above as zetraloids poured into the arena.

Probably a group of new ones. Micro yawned. There wasn’t much technique to be learned from their fight. Just mindless slaughter—a time passer. Gaze wandering to the side, he noticed with surprise, that a familiar mohawked mutant clone stood not that far down from him.

It took him awhile to decide if he should greet the creature or not.

It can’t hurt to…

With one last glance, he crept across to where the zetraloid practiced pouncing on a small scrap of metal.

“Crypt.” Micro’s helmet fins twitched, remembering his short time with the mutant.

Crypt spun around in a hurry, but did nothing except stare. “Uh…”

“Micro.” He reminded.

“Oh right! Hi Micro.” He extended his claw in greeting before chuckling, “You can refuse. It doesn’t bother me.”

Micro nodded.

“So how ya been?”

“Training hard.” With guarded hesitation he added, “I’m not going to let people push me around.”

Crypt yawned, “That’s nice.”

Micro tilted his head to one side. Crypt didn’t appear nearly as enthusiastic. He could hardly understand why but decided not to ask. That was Crypt’s issue, not his.

The scientists were already filing out, back to work no doubt. Micro’s helmet fins twitched.

“Gotta go, Crypt. Training.”

Crypt nodded his head unenthusiastically.

“Don’t tire yourself out too fast.”

Down through the hall Micro trailed so fast that he nearly collided with Snarl at the bottom.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“Move faster.” Micro countered, “I wasn’t prepared for you to be so slow.”

Snarl growled and lowered his head. “Stop acting like you’re so much better! We’re all failures!”

“You’re jealous.”

“Jealous?! Of what? Of a scrap too stupid to see he’s being manipulated?”

Micro’s helmet fins twitched apprehensively.

“You’re nothing but a puppet, Micro, can’t you see that?”

“You’re just angry that I took your place.”

“None of us believe him! We act loyal to stay alive! All he does is feed you lie after lie.”

“Traitor.” Micro growled.

“Are you so dense you can’t see it?”

“All I see is you trying to trick me.”

He’s the one tricking you. His job is to make interesting fights. If it were up to him, we’d all be battling to the death—anything to give them a thrill. We’re just their garbage, Micro—a fun way to dispose of garbage.”

“You’re a traitor.” Micro repeated as he turned away.

Snarl shook his head.

“Micro, you don’t understand. He just sets up outrageous battles.”

“Stop.” Micro hissed, “Or I’m going to turn you in.”

Snarl snorted at Micro and twisted around. “Good riddance.”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Thu Mar 18, 2010 11:53 pm

Chapter Seventeen

Micro and Snarl never did make amends. Although Snarl had long lost the hostile spark, Micro raged at the mere mention of him. Outrageous fights! How stupid did Snarl think he was? Now he waited with rest of the team. Today was their turn to fight in the colosseum.

Crow was barking out orders, but Micro paid no attention to him. His mind was elsewhere. He glanced over at Snarl. The zetraloid shifted his weight from foot to foot—not impatience. Micro’s helmet fins twitched. Fear. He was afraid and he was watching Crow with all his attention.


“Micro?” Crow called again.

Micro glared, but said nothing.

“We’re organizing partners.”

“I don’t want one.”

Crow scowled back just as fierce, “Since when were you leader? I said we were partnering up.”

Micro turned away.

Crow ignored Micro’s lack of cooperation and thought about it for awhile, “Snarl, partner up with Micro.”

Snarl nodded and joined Micro.


Micro detected a sliver of friendliness in his voice but ignored him anyway.

“Whatever.” Snarl sighed as he waited.

Before long they were on the battle field. Micro could sense his own teammates flooding around him without having to actually look. They kicked up sand as they collided with the others. Snarl was sticking close to him, only daring to whack at anything too close.

Micro darted forward. He heard Snarl call to him from behind but refused to stop. In complete disregard to Crow, he flung himself at one of the others. It was just a trick though. He landed lightly in front of it and dashed around back before ramming his helmet fins through its back. The zetraloid toppled over as he tore free.

Snarl was still making his way over while Micro caught sight of Crow tussling with a tall zetraloid; his dark armor was effortlessly hiding him in the crowd. Micro rammed his hand into another’s stomach before catapulting himself up and nailing its chin.

Snarl made his way over to Micro at last and was locked in combat with a thick-bodied, mutant clone. Micro joined in the battle, lashing out with his knife hand until he had sent the zetraloid into a retreat. His gaze locked on to Snarl.

‘He’s in charge of making outrageous battles.’ His helmet fins flattened. Traitor.

Snarl was just catching his balance as Micro crept forward.


Snarl whipped around to see Micro drop to the ground and spin until he hooked Snarl’s legs out from underneath him. The smaller zetraloid was up in a flash, knife hand hovering inches in front of Snarl’s face.

Snarl blinked in surprise, “Micro?”

“The weak deserve to die.” Micro whispered, “So do traitors.”

“What? How can you—”

Micro shoved the knife through his partner’s head, twisting it in a full circle before stepping back and letting it return to its normal status, plasma soaking his hand. Snarl’s helmet fins twitched one last time before the zetraloid slumped against the ground.

A surprised gasp echoed from all around—the humans, not the zetraloids. With a smirk of triumph, Micro left Snarl’s lifeless body behind. All around him battle continued as normal. He joined in to fight his fair share against the others.

As the battle ended, he caught Crow’s glare as he recollected the remnants of his team, but simply flicked his helmet fins in dismissal.

Crow continued to glance over at him, but Micro refused to make eye contact. He knew the bigger zetraloid would no doubt want to ask him about Snarl, but that didn’t mean he had to speak now.

The massive doors opened as the zetraloids dispersed down the aisle. To Micro’s displeasure, Crow fell in step beside him, yet he still stared forward, unwilling to meet the gaze of his leader.

Things would be different if I was leader.


Micro gazed at Crow, his dark eyes showing no regret.

“What were you thinking?” He was doing his best to keep level toned—Micro could tell.

“You’re angry.” He stated with a flick of his helmet fins.

“Of course I am!” Crow growled, “He was your partner! Our teammate! You idiot.”

“He was unfit.”

“Who died and made you leader?”

Micro shrugged. His smooth, unhampered grace never missed a stride as he wove back and forth down the hall as if skating.

“You killed our teammate. And you don’t have anything to say?”

“I only did what had to be done. He was disloyal and fearful.”

“Anyone in their right mind should be!”

Micro turned down a different hall abruptly, forcing Crow to follow. His eyes were set straight ahead as if Crow wasn’t even there.

“I’m the leader, not you!”

“And you will be the downfall of the team.”

Rage flared within Crow. He stepped in front of Micro, cutting off his path. Micro paused and glanced up.

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but you can quit, now.”

Without waiting for a reply, he snatched Micro by two of his helmet fins and dragged the zetraloid, against his will, to the outside of Caine’s office. With a swift motion for silence, he crouched below the window and pulled Micro beside him. Two voices could be heard. A man and a woman. Micro picked up a few phrases here and there.

“They’re stupid, they believe anything!”

“Well, they’re just a bunch of machines.”

His helmet fins twitched. Both Caine and the other, most likely Christina, laughed before the man promised to train up ‘interesting’ new fighters for the other scientists who were apparently growing bored of the current repetitive style. Before either of the two zetraloids could be caught, Crow led them away.

Micro’s mind churned with confusion. It seemed no one had a consistent story. Who was right? His helmet fins twitched anxiously. Was everyone against him? Or was there no true right answer?

Crow had let him be, wandering off to the rest of the clones and leaving Micro to sort out his own issues. His mind was signaling that something was missing. It didn’t add up, something wasn’t right. A strange sensation prickled at his bottom jaw.

Fear. He detected. But of what?

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Thu Mar 18, 2010 11:55 pm

Chapter Eighteen

With a sigh, Micro plopped down on the cold cement. His helmet fins flicked in frustration. Why did everything have to be so complicated? He watched as a couple of team members whisked by, speaking in hushed whispers. Rumors. He paid no further attention to them, instead focusing his mind on his goal.

I’ll be leader someday.

Crow had lost interest in leading all together. He stalked around with such lack of energy that Micro had begun to wonder if the zetraloid even cared about himself anymore. He most certainly didn’t care about the team. The dread of inevitable end, Micro concluded. He had seen more and more team leaders die in the past few months than ever. His own team had been thinned and recombined so many times that they hardly knew each other anymore.

The familiar presence of Crypt flowed from a nearby route. Micro closed his eyes, trying to focus on his exact location. It was a newer skill he had begun to develop, certainly not refined. He guessed it was a part of the refined Shapeshifter Hunter techniques.

“Hey Micro.” Crypt greeted nonchalantly.

“Hello.” Micro answered formally as he rose to his feet.

“You’re not like anyone else.” Crypt informed.

Micro kept silent, unable to detect the point the mohawked mutant had wished to make. He often did such things though and Micro had learned to dismiss them. Since the team recycling, Crypt had been apart of his own for some time now.

“Micro, Crypt, come on.” A voice echoed down the hall.

“Another fight.” Micro stated, seething with boredom.

Crypt wasn’t displeased in the least as he scampered along. Micro caught sight of Crow speaking with Caine. Tension flared between them, but as usual, he dismissed it. Turning a blind eye to the happenings of others worked well.

“Wanna stand by me?” Crypt questioned.


Crow broke the line, weaving his way to the front and carried on without a word. He never assembled plans or parterned anyone up any longer.

It seemed forever before they set foot on the sandy battlefield. Micro blinked his eyes, desperately trying to steady them against the bright light. Battle cries echoed around him as he launched himself into the fray, Crypt matching his every step. His mind was numb to the fight. A strong blow to the side of his head jerked him back. He swung himself around and flung the zetraloid off balance. Crypt used his massive claws to render it defeated.

“Nice move!”

Micro only flicked his helmet fins to acknowledge he had heard. His armor rotated to form jagged hooks. The next zetraloid was caught within it, flailing his arms for freedom.

This is stupid. Why fight against ourselves?

His eyes flashed to the scientists whom were fervently cheering.

No one was that happy about creating me.

He sliced the throat of a zetraloid to his left. Plasma splattered his face as he rolled to avoid another. The cheers intensified.

Yet they like to watch us die.

Crypt tugged at a zetraloid latched to his back while another attacked from the front. Micro darted forward and swiped it away.

“Thanks.” Crypt struggled to swallow, his mouth dry.

Micro nodded as he smashed his fist into another. One slipped in the sand, pulling down three others with it.

They are the enemy.

His helmet fins flattened as he stepped back from fighting. Confused, Crypt followed. In some sense of silent agreement, others began to stop until only Crow dawdled around as another pummeled him with fierce blows.

“What’re you doing??” Crypt asked, wide-eyed.

Micro shrugged, eyes narrowing as he watched Crow fall to the other team’s leader without the slightest struggle. Rage spread through him like a wild fire. Without another thought, he charged forward and knocked the zetraloid off balance. Before it could recover, he kicked its side sharply, shattering its structure.

He darted to the other side and did the same before leaping into the air and landing atop it. Helmet fins flicking in annoyance, he stepped down on its neck, causing it to choke.

“No one messes with my team.” He hissed before stepping harder until he heard a dull crack.

The cheers were unfulfilling by all means. He stumbled out of the arena, hardly aware of anyone around him. The fact Crow was dead and his team now leaderless didn’t bother him, it had gone by in a haze. With a spark of realization he discovered this was the chance he’d been waiting for.

Before his planning went any further, Caine was at his side. Although he couldn’t see the man’s face, he felt pure rage radiating all around him.

Lack of fighting’s not in his schedule, obviously.

“You worthless scrap!’

He pulled the small zetraloid aside by a helmet fin. He braced one arm against the wall as if standing were too much effort.

Lazy human.

“You don’t stop!”

“I didn’t want to fight.”

“I don’t care! You listen to me!”

“Evidently not.” Micro trailed off as he leaned to the side.

Caine reached for the thin bar fastened to his side. His hand hovered it as if a threat, but Micro ignored the gesture.

“You’re out of line.”

“I refuse to be someone’s puppet.”

“You don’t have a choice!” Caine swiped the bar across Micro’s face. He didn’t budge. Not even the slightest wince. His dark eyes narrowed, daring to look the man in the eye. Again Caine swung, leaving his nose to gush with plasma. His helmet fins dropped to the sides.

Frustrated, the man swung again and again. No luck. Grasping it with both hands he tried again. It was enough to force Micro to secure his footing but nothing more. The zetraloid’s eyes glinted, mouth parting open in a snarl.

“I won’t be your puppet.”

Caine stepped back, his expression darkening, “Oh won’t you?”

He stretched his arm out; several small keys lined the plate strapped to it. In a flash, he pressed a sequence and Micro’s collar lit up before the blades began to tear at his neck.

Instinctively, Micro tried backing away, only to find the pain followed. Clawing furiously at the collar as it zapped his neck, he dropped to the ground. Static shot through his mind, blinding him of his surroundings as he writhed in vain.

“You have a weakness to electricity.” Caine mused as he shut it off, “One I’ve been waiting to use against you again.”

Micro cringed, half curled as a final strong bolt rampaged through his body. A sizzling stench filled his nose that made him cough. Fried blood. Me, he noted.

“Now who’s little puppet are you going to be?”

Micro was tempted to blurt out no one’s and accept the torment, but thought better of it. If he were to do so it would only cause needless pain. There was no escape from the thick collars and no option but to fight—however much that realization bothered him.

“Yours.” He murmured, resentment seething through every second.

Caine nodded approval, “And what have I taught you?”

“The weak deserve to die.” His whispery voice answered.

Caine nodded and set about in a gait that made Micro loathe him all the more. He suppressed a low growl as he stared after the man.

I may be your puppet now…but not forever.

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Thu Mar 18, 2010 11:57 pm

Chapter Nineteen

“Oww!” Crypt wailed in agony as he flopped aimlessly, armor scratching the floor, “Micro let go!”

Micro freed his mutant friend from the grip of his unforgiving rows of fangs. Plasma dripped from them as he wiped them with his once white, gloved hand. Blood and plasma adorned all his armor from its black tips to crimson red trim.

“Sorry, Crypt.” Micro apologized, even toned.

Crypt rubbed his bleeding injury but nodded; a friendly smile still upon his face. He shook his head, unruffling his bright blue mohawk.

Micro stood straight in a flawlessly confident stance, even despite his height.

“There must be more beyond this prison, don’t you think?”

Crypt shuddered, “I’d hate to find out.”

Micro’s helmet fins fluttered up in surprise. How could Crypt not be interested?

Several other zetraloids began to creep in. The rest of the team. Micro nodded to them casually. They accepted this as his being fine with their presence. Four long years had passed. And with every day, Micro grew more and more concerned with what lie beyond his grasp. Sure he was leader now, but it would end just as it had for Crow.

He turned and slunk down the hall. Crypt blundered after him, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

“Micro, you didn’t forget about the fight, did you?”

“Of course not.” His helmet fins twitched, “Get everyone in order.”

The group was halted in front of the massive doors that lay before the arena. Nothing had changed about it. It still stood in shades of gray with the smell of death lingering around it.

Caine strode beside them. Micro cast a swift glance at him, undetected by the man, before training his vision on a few pebbles strewn about the cold floor.

I’d like to break his legs…and his arms. He closed his eyes, at peace with his conniving mind. And see his brain splatter all over that…woman.

“What’re you grinnin’ about, scrap?”

“Eminent victory.” If only you knew.

Caine shrugged and walked away. Micro had heard rumors that the entire system was under heavy accusation in regards to being inhumane as a method of destruction—whether or not it was humane, he’d let them decide, but the living conditions were most certainly fretful. Many a zetraloid had died simply from the lack of cleanliness, ridden with disease before they even caught sight of their first battle.

As always they strode out into the open. More than normal, Micro noted. It seemed as if they had brought out every straggler they could find. Crypt glanced uncertainly at the odds as he accompanied Micro. Hundreds huddled in groups around the arena. It was every team they had ever trained by the looks of it. Some were bulky, others tall, still yet others had more limbs than normal or dangerous weapons.

“Tough match, huh?”

“We’ll manage.”

No one waited for the announcement this time. Micro side stepped the first strike and signaled for Crypt to follow with a flick of his helmet fins. The two fought side by side in silence. Only the occasional coded helmet fin flicker would alert the other of a change in strategy. Zetraloids fell left and right, littering the battle field with metal bodies.

“It’s an all out death match!” Crypt exclaimed as he nodded towards their own team whom were fighting each other.

His gaze uncertainly faltered back to Micro. The small zetraloid scanned around himself. Blurs of various gray shades flew by from all directions. Utter chaos.


“Crypt!” Micro’s helmet fins twitched as he hid amongst the crowd, making his way towards the tall walls. Crypt followed behind just as stealthy. Micro began shoveling handfuls of sand to the side while Crypt stood guard. He had to hurry; the battle was dying away as the remaining clones tore savagely at each other.

Humans. Demon creatures.

The door cracked open and Micro wormed his way underneath it. The exit he had chosen was one that paneled down from above. Confused, Crypt bolted back out into battle while Micro headed for Caine’s office—the central control base. If he could just deactivate the collars…

Everyone had been too distracted by the massive fight. Clawing his way inside, he stepped over a few tools thrown carelessly on the floor. Had they noticed yet? He hoped not, if they did, chances were slim he’d live to see another day.

Micro sighed. A jumble of unmarked switches and keys lined an entire wall.

And to top it off I’m colorblind…

He smashed his foot against the machine, leaving a dent in it. Again he kicked it then a third and fourth time until the machine sizzled as pieces tumbled away from it. He slashed at some clinging wires before tugging at his own collar. It wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, he slammed it against the grumbling machine. The collar sparked then parted as it hit the ground. Micro held his head high—he had deactivated it.

Hope pulsed through him as he left the room. But now where to go? His helmet fins twitched contently. They had been forced to entertain the humans; it was time for a change. He followed the narrow stairway to its opening that surrounded the arena and caught sight of a man, criticizing near the edge.

Micro glared. The man couldn’t have known the first thing about training. He crept up behind him, helmet fins flicking before ramming them through the man. The man let out a shocked cry before tumbling over the side and crumpling on the sand—whether dead by puncture or fall, Micro didn’t care.

The others scattered. He gave them a disgusted glare. Cowards. They were weak. Every last one of them.

And the weak deserve to die.

Micro smirked as his armor rotated to its jagged points. As he charged forward, it tore at the delicate flesh of a fleeing scientist. He swept another off his feet. The man’s back snapped over the row of seats as he went limp. Leaping over another row of chairs gracefully, he gave a firm strike to a man’s head. It cracked open and blood streamed down.


Micro could recognize that voice anywhere, even from amongst the terrified wailing. No doubt Caine had been too preoccupied with that woman to take his job seriously. Micro smirked as he rounded to meet eyes with the man.

“I’m not your puppet anymore.”

Micro sprang into a cowering crowd, his armor plates uncurled, piercing the group of humans. Blood stained their coats as they retreated. In the distance, Caine was smashing code combinations on his arm’s controls, no doubt in hopes of stopping Micro in his tracks.

Micro spotted an uninjured scientist to the back, adjusting his glasses. No scientist would escape. There in a flash, he kicked the man’s knee with bone crushing force. As the scientist staggered forward and fell, Micro rammed his knee’s pointed armor through his head. Blood splattered the walkway.

He broke free from the man and headed towards another, dragging his knife hand down through the man’s spinal cord. He shook the flesh and blood free, unfazed. A group of three stood begging in front of him.

Where’s your aggression? The words rang in his mind. His helmet fins lowered as he scowled. Happy now?

The first human blinked in shock. The one beside him wailed about having a family, the final stood on shaking legs, cursing the existence of zetraloids all together. Humans were easy to tear apart. He swung his arm around leaving giant gashes down their bodies. The scientists were thinning out, some jumping to their deaths. Glancing over the side, he saw piles of dead scientists mixed amongst hundreds of zetraloids. He hoped Crypt was okay.

Caine walked towards him, rather bold for a human.

“I said stop!”

He swung the steel bar but Micro jerked it away and spun it in a circle before smashing it against Caine’s leg. The sound of bone shattering pleased Micro as Caine stumbled and slumped back into a chair.


Micro’s helmet fins twitched.

“You’re weak! You’ll never be a real zetraloid even! You’re a failure.”

He stepped forward and let his jagged armor tear at the man’s unprotected arms. Suddenly wary of the controls on it, he crunched into the arm with his needle like teeth.

Caine tried butting the zetraloid away unsuccessfully as he shouted. Warm blood seeped down Micro’s throat, reminding him of his operation long ago. Letting go of the arm, he picked up the bar again and took a moment to examine it. Aligning it with the man’s head, he carried on as agonizingly slow as he pleased.

“No wait!” Caine stammered, trying to guard his face, “I-I’m sorry!”

“I’m not.” Micro jabbed the blunt object forward, impaling both his hands.
Blood gushed forth and Caine’s miserable cry stung his transmitters.

“You treated us like garbage.”

Micro slid the steel bar through his punctured hands, tearing at the bleeding flesh. It came to rest on Caine’s forehead. The man was quivering from pain and shock.

“You tricked me into killing Snarl.”

Caine only winced as Micro pressed the bar more firmly against his head. The blunt object’s pressure was building.

“And then you expect me to actually listen to you?”

“No, wait—please, I’m begging you!”

Micro’s helmet fins flicked, “Oh? But I thought the weak deserve to die.”

“No, that’s just—”

He forced the bar further, causing the man’s skull to shatter. Blood spewed from the wound in gushes, splattering against Micro’s face.

“No!” The screech came from the stairway. A woman came racing towards them, either not seeing Micro or not caring. She fell to her knees in front of Caine, sobbing. It was the woman who had given him bloodlines—Christina.

Micro’s eyes glinted as he reached out and grasped her throat. She gasped and pulled at his hand.

“No.” She rasped.

Micro, expression unchanging, willed his fingers to dig through her tender flesh and puncture her throat. Eyes wide in fear, she took a few shallow breaths. Micro stared on watching the life fade from her once cruel eyes. At last he released her, she would be dead soon enough. Blood had soaked his white gloves.

He gazed around himself. A strange silence had befallen the area. Time was dwindling away. He had to leave soon before they quarantined the location.

The seating area was filled with bodies and stained with blood. Micro took one last look before rushing down the stairs. Once again squeezing under the door, he called for Crypt. Nothing but corpses surrounded him though.


Micro spun around. There Crypt lie, strewn about with the others, his eyes clouded with pain. Micro rushed to his friend’s side.

“Don’t worry.” Crypt announced, voice weathered from strain, “I just twisted my leg and broke my…er, whatever this is.” He held out half of one of his long curling spine extensions.

“We’re free.” Micro informed.

“Free?” Crypt echoed.

Micro nodded his head, “I came back for you. Come on.”

Crypt shook his head and smiled, “No, Micro. You’re brave. You can take on the world alone…but not me.”

Micro’s helmet fins drooped but he nodded his head.

“Farewell Crypt.”

“Bye Micro. Good luck.”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Thu Mar 18, 2010 11:59 pm

Chapter Twenty

Foot steps echoed down the vinyl floored hall, it was Thomas Lakes. His face was solemn; news had obviously spread to him of the mayhem that had taken place in their lower levels and of Micro’s escape.

“Ah, my creation…we were wrong…oh so wrong.”

Micro tensed, ready to attack.

“You were never a failure.”

His helmet fins twitched as he took a step forward, still battle ready.

“No…no…” the man appeared not to be concerned for his own life, “We were wrong. I am sorry…for all we have done.”

Blood dripped from Micro’s neck, split open again and once more reminding him of the pain he had been through. Did this man honestly expect him to forgive him for anything that had happened?

Eyes clouded with grief, Lakes nodded his head.

“I understand. But you must remember one thing. Everyone makes mistakes.”

Micro paused mid-step. In a way, the man was responsible for all of his problems, yet all the same, he had reacted differently than all the others. He sighed and turned to leave but paused, glancing back at the man responsible for his creation. He wondered if he would dare try and stop him, as Caine had done.

Lakes clasped his hands together, “Farewell, my creation.”

Micro dipped his head to his creator, “If…” He hesitated, “If I ever see you again…I’ll kill you.”

He waited as the door opened, never looking back. A blast of cold air nearly threw him off balance. Strange lights and long stretches of cement. Speeding objects honked and dashed down darkened asphalt. The sides were covered in hairy green stuff and giant sticks with fluffy tops towered high above.

Mouth agape, he turned to look at the building.

“Scientific and Technological Research Center. Huh, hardly.”

The building was beautiful from the outside, towering majestically into the abyss above. The night sky was heavy upon him. Taking a few strides forward, a bright light flashed in his eyes, blinding him for a brief moment.

Too many noises echoed from all around yet with it, floated enticing aromas of fries and burgers. Micro’s mouth watered as he took a deep whiff. More confident now, he pushed on further until the building was far behind. Other buildings dotted the hillsides amid shaped bushes and trees. Freshly cut grass, wet with condensation made him sneeze. It was a peculiar scent. One unlike any other he’d ever smelled.

A light drizzle began to speckle his armor with drops of water. Surprised by the water falling from the sky, he gazed up. Billowing gray clouds tumbled over the sky, swallowing the moon and stars.

Flashes of light lit it up, followed by a deep boom that made his legs tremble. The rain came faster now. Micro headed towards one of the lamp posts along the road. For the first time since he left, he realized his blood stained armor might make him stand out.

Under the orange glow of the light, Micro watched as the blood was washed away, swirling into a storm drain. Gazing out again, he watched the speedy blurs with their humming motors and earth shaking rumbles. Occasionally one would honk or screech.

Micro’s helmet fins twitched. A very wet bench, only a bit farther from his location attracted him momentarily. The constant splash of rain was strangely soothing. He watched it roll off his armor, eyes slowly closing.

Just a few moments.

He decided before crawling beneath a low growing bush. Its branches scraped at his armor and the ground beneath him was slushy and wet. Here he was more shielded from the rain though. Pulling his arms up under his chin, he tilted his head to one side and yawned, thankful for the temporary peace.

Distant thunder crackled and rolled until it faded all together and rain showered all around, pattering against the clump of bushes until his armor had been speckled with wet drops. With one last yawn, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Armor dripping with thick clumps of mud, Micro pulled himself out and back into the open. Nothing had changed even though it was later. Rain still splashed in sheets atop cement and drummed trashcans and mailboxes. Many houses surrounded the wide roads, but by now their lights were off—his sight would be at its peak.

A thick fog had set in low, hiding the tops of the buildings from sight. Micro set about down the side walk slowly, distracted as his feet splashed through puddles. Everything was so different out here—fresh and new and yet it was far too open. How could anyone defend themselves out here? From the corner of his eye he caught sight of a medium sized zetraloid. It had come out from down a wide road, appearing long abandoned and was headed straight towards him.

Micro tensed, ready to attack in retaliation but was surprised by how weak the impact was. He hooked its jaw with one fist. Instantly the zetraloid howled in pain and stepped back. Micro charged forward, lunging at the shaken zetraloid with his transformed hand. It pierced the zetraloid’s vest as it tumbled over, plasma soaking through already.


These zetraloids were nothing like what he was used to. The zetraloid’s breath was coming in ragged spasms now. Taking a step back, Micro aligned his knife hand with its head before thrusting it through and then continuing on his way.

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Fri Mar 19, 2010 12:00 am

Chapter Twenty-One

Micro yawned as he followed a twist of sidewalk rounding between a sign advertising doughnuts and a coffee shop. The pungent scent of fresh coffee made his nose twitch in surprise.

Day had come and now he found it to be even harder to navigate through—pale shades of gray and white mixed with blurry figures which he had accepted to be humans. Hushed voices drew him away from his surroundings as he crept forward. In the distance, he watched as two zetraloids beat on another.

One held the zetraloid by its arms as the other punched it, taunting it about how it should’ve brought him a larger drink. Micro’s helmet fins flicked as he edged closer. A different zetraloid pointed at him as he motioned to another.

“Hey kid, ya lost?” One snickered.

Micro shot it a fierce glare.

“D’aww poor little scrap.”

They dropped the zetraloid they had beaten and walked towards Micro. All were taller than him, although it didn’t concern him in the least.

“Oh, a real tough guy, eh?”

“We’ll see how tough you really are.”

“Yeah.” A third snickered, “When you’re begging us for mercy.”

The one in charge snapped his fingers and motioned to the beaten zetraloid.

“Go get me a better drink you worthless pile of trash.” He turned to Micro, “Alright, Shorty. I’ll give you one chance to turn around and run as fast as your little feet can carry you before I give you the worst beating of your life.”

Hardly. Micro thought as he recalled all his training. He held his head high in defiance.

“Spunky punk.” The zetraloid muttered before dashing at him.

Micro sidestepped and twisted around to land a blow to his attacker’s back. Instantly, the others came to its rescue. Micro was too swift though, leaping between the zetraloids as they landed. Colosseum fights were much easier than this. Even if he was more focused, so were they. They knew the landscape, could see without being hindered and unlike the colosseum, all wanted to attack him specifically.

Micro stumbled back as one hooked his foot out from underneath him. The leader was up in a flash, swiping with a knife sideways. Blood trickled from a wound on his face as he bounced back.

Flipping around again, he jabbed his helmet fins straight through one’s arm. It shouted in pain and lashed out in anger. A strong fist made connection with Micro’s eye and knocked him clear off his feet.

His armor scraped against the cement as he slammed into a trash can. Once again he was up in within seconds, darting out of the zetraloid’s path. He crashed into one from behind, bringing it to its knees as plasma spewed from the wound.

The leader strode forward as another clamped around Micro’s arm. He struggled for freedom but his build wasn’t strong enough to overpower them. He continued to thrash back and forth as the leader walked all the more at his leisure.

“You’re interesting.” He noted, casting a glance back at his fallen follower, “But you ignored my warning.” He added as he pulled out a knife and gazed at its glistening edge.

Micro noticed that the zetraloid grasping his arm flinched. The leader let it rest on the bend of Micro’s arm, “Maybe you should think twice before crossing paths with me.”

Slight apprehension prickled down Micro’s spine as he stopped struggling. If he did nothing but flail, there would be no way to escape. For a brief moment he wished he were back at the lab.

No. I’ll be fine.

The knife slid across his arm, easing its way in. Micro winced at the slow pace. It felt as though each slice would never end. A sharp tingle made his arm spasm and with a jolt he realized he couldn’t feel his fingertips.


Blood was streaming from his arm without end, trickling the entire length from elbow to shoulder with its dripping. The zetraloid seemed fascinated by the red substance trailing about. He leaned closer.

“What the—”

Micro flipped upside down, nailing the zetraloid’s chin with his foot.


The other lost his grip of the arm when jolted with surprise. Micro took the chance to break free. The two lunged at him, but he kneeled down, holding his four helmet fins up straight atop his head. The zetraloids couldn’t stop in time and both were pierced through by the sharp tips. The leader pried himself off and staggered back, shock plastered on his face while the other simply slid off lifelessly when Micro tilted his fins back down.

“You…what…what are you?” He gasped before his face twisted in pain and he collapsed on the ground.

Micro’s helmet fins twitched as the other zetraloids began to appear from between small crevices and cover of garbage. They immediately gathered around their fallen leader. Uncertainty filled their eyes as they gazed at Micro.

He cast them an equally undecided gaze as he turned to leave. His arm hung awkwardly to the side and he still couldn’t feel half of it. A loud shriek behind him caused him to dart forward. Fear surged through him at the unknown sound.

A loud screech beside him startled him even more. A large object was swerving around him, careening into another.

“Hey, watch out!”

Micro cowered down as a huge monster towered over him, threatening to eat him, or so he thought. Just in time, he was swept off his feet. Blurs sprawled before his spinning vision until he came to an abrupt halt beside a lamp post. Gasping, he scrambled to his feet and backed away from the zetraloid responsible for grabbing him.

“Don’t’cha know anything ‘bout streets?”

Micro’s helmet fins flattened as his hand sharpened to a knife point.

“Whoah, whoah, whoah, no need to get touchy, I was jus’ tryin’ ta help!”

Micro paused and tilted his head to the side at the spotted zetraloid in front of him. Maybe he was telling the truth. He didn’t look aggressive.

“Dang, you almost got squashed flatter than a pancake!”

“Are you calling me short?”

The spotted zetraloid shook his head as he retreated down the road, “Come on—before they come after us!”

Micro’s helmet fins flicked as he followed the new stranger around the corner to avoid the shouting humans, finally he dashed in front of him, cutting him off. He’d never seen a zetraloid with such strangely arranged spots.

“Who are you?”

The zetraloid wiped his hand on the bandanna around his neck before extending it out to Micro, “Domino.”

Micro tried moving his own arm but found it to be impossible. Domino blinked.

“Oh dang. Been fightin’ much?”

“How did you know?” Micro whispered in a threat, but Domino merely pointed to his arm.

At last, Micro nodded.

“Might wanna get y’er arm there looked at.” Domino scratched at one of his helmet fins and shook his head, “Not like ya can trust anyone ‘round here anyway. I’d offer to have my friend take a look ‘n see but chances are he’d go off on some bout and claw y’er head clean off. Well I better go, new guy. See ya ‘round.”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 6953
Join date : 2010-01-13
Age : 126

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   Fri Mar 19, 2010 12:02 am

Chapter Twenty-Two

Micro strode by back and forth down the dim alleyway, a trail of other zetraloids tagging along. It had been at least a few months since his escape and he had managed to fit in just fine. Although any human who spotted him always gasped with horror at his blood stained appearance. Several had even begun calling him “Blood” as a name he assumed.

He leapt atop a dumpster and perched there contently. One arm still didn’t move but he had adjusted to that. He blinked his eyes against the gentle breeze—today had been cold, but dry. After some time, one of the zetraloids stepped out from the shadows, offering him what appeared to be a doughnut.

Micro accepted it after the small zetraloid had retreated, tossing it into the air before taking a bite. These same zetraloids followed him everywhere. For protection it seemed. In exchange, they brought him gifts of various sorts.

He sighed before getting up and trailing along again. He wasn’t sure if life was much better out here. Shaking the idea from his mind, he paused, glancing across the street in front of him. It was Domino. It seemed as if ages had passed since he’d first met the spotted zetraloid.

Eventually Domino recognized him as well and waved as he made a dash across the street.

“Howdy, long time no see.”

Micro dipped his head in greeting, eyes still with a sense of guard.

Domino blinked in surprise at the others following the small zetraloid around.

“Dang. When’d you go ‘n start the fan club?”

His helmet fins shot to the sides in anger, eyes narrowing as he took a step forward.

“It was just a joke.” Domino chuckled as one of his helmet fins twitched.

Micro’s gaze remained for some time before finally relaxing. Domino was wedging a sliver of wood between his jagged teeth as he pointed across the way.

A tall, broad-shouldered zetraloid was glancing both ways across the busy street. His light-brown, trench coat and long, black hair whipped in the wind. His face was covered with midnight blue armor. It had a gold design on the front with a bluish diamond shaped light in the center. Helmet fins similar to cat ears stuck out on either side of his head, each with a black tip. A sharp fang protruded from his mouth as he gave the passing cars scowls of disapproval and single scar trailed along the right side of his jaw.

He wore a gray shirt with a black stripe down the center and pants with a more brownish-gray tinge. Most interestingly though was the shimmering claw of his left hand. Of course to Micro he just looked like several shades of gray.

His helmet fins twitched as he looked to Domino for an answer.

“That’s my buddy.” Domino informed as he chewed on the sliver. He paused, gazing up, “Well…not really. I think he hates me.”

Micro simply nodded, but Domino continued, “He hates everybody.” He yawned and tossed the sliver aside and leaned closer to Micro, “He’s grouchier than a spooked badger.”

Although unsure of what a badger was, Micro nodded his head and turned to leave, but the massive zetraloid had come over to speak with Domino.

“What the heck is that?

Domino shrugged, “Dunno.”

Who is it?” the zetraloid impatiently growled.

Domino rubbed his chin, “Well heck, I never asked.”

The other growled again before grabbing Domino by his head and tossing him like he was nothing. The spotted zetraloid crashed head on into a lamp post. Micro turned to face the tall zetraloid as it got too close for his liking. Once again, he went into a defensive mode, but the zetraloid only smirked.

Micro noticed now that the zetraloid was at least double his size. Neither said anything but both knew what was next. Micro dodged the zetraloid’s claw with ease, speeding back at him like he usually did, but was surprised when he was simply reflected. He hopped out of the way again; the zetraloid was sturdy built for sure. He surged forward, jumping on top of the zetraloid’s arm as he slashed and transformed his hand before ramming it atop the zetraloid’s head.

To his surprise, it reflected back without as much as leaving a mark. Retreating, he swiftly dodged several more attacks as if the larger zetraloid were in slow motion, yet he still was unable to hurt it in turn.

Frustrated, his armor rotated to become like hooks as he launched himself forward. The zetraloid shielded with his arm and Micro found himself stuck to the sleeve. Pulling free, he leapt back and skidded to a halt.

Unfazed, the zetraloid advanced, but Micro slipped behind it only to find his attack, once again, ineffective. The entire time, Domino had been contently perched on a trash can, rubbing his head.

Micro paused as the powerful zetraloid shook his head and clasped his hand and claw together as if to pop the joints.

“You’re a tough midget.”

Micro glared at the bigger zetraloid who appeared to be observing the entire situation now, glancing at the zetraloids beyond him.

“You’re a gang leader?”

Confused, Micro tilted his head to one side but his answer was firm, “No.”

“You could be.”

“Uh-huh!” Domino chimed in, “With all them fans ‘o yours.”

The bigger zetraloid growled at Domino, uttering some warning that Micro didn’t quite catch. He was surprised that neither had mentioned anything about how awful he smelled though, everyone else he had met so far whom he hadn’t killed had—as well as some he had.

“What is a gang?” Micro’s whispery voice was calm and collected.

“Kinda like…umm….”

“They’re feared.” The bigger zetraloid announced as if it were most important, “Forming an allegiance to a common purpose.” He smirked, “Some people would associate them with the word criminal.”

Micro thought about it for a bit, not completely sure of all it entailed.

“You’re the weirdest Shapeshifter Hunter I’ve ever met.” The big zetraloid stated.

“How did you—”

But the taller zetraloid cut him short, “I could help you. Together we could be the most feared zetraloids in all of Skypalace. ”

Doubt quickly vanishing, Micro nodded.

“I’d like that.”

“By the way, I’m Wrath.” After a moment’s pause he added, “Who are you?”

Micro almost answered immediately before catching himself. Blood would be a better name. He had resented the name. Not anymore. He would never forget what they had done to him and he would never forgive them. Turning confidently to meet Wrath’s gaze he answered.

“Blood. My name is Blood.”

Back to top Go down
Sponsored content

PostSubject: Re: Bloodspill   

Back to top Go down


View previous topic View next topic Back to top 
Page 1 of 1

Permissions in this forum:You cannot reply to topics in this forum
MB :: Zyturri :: Zyturri Stories-