anemoi | Transformation Matrix

[The basement of the labs was dark and still, a graveyard of steam pipes and forgotten items and disused equipment that no one really wanted to see anymore. The area was all too familiar to Gordon; this was where his suit's charging station was sequestered.]

[But this isn't why he had come here this time. He coughed, leaning against the wall; pale, clammy, and trying to catch ragged shreds of breath. His lungs felt like they were on fire. At first he thought it was just stress, or exhaustion, or some fucking flu virus... he doubles over and coughs from the bottom of his lungs. Pieces of bloody... something, splatter to the floor. His own lung tissue maybe. Oh god, no wonder he couldn't breathe. There's plenty of soft defenseless tissue for the nanites to mess around with in there...]

[Yes, he knew exactly what was going on. That's why he wanted to get as far down and away from people as possible. Lock himself up. Hopefully the others will figure out what happened to him--]

[He lurches into another violent coughing fit and doubles over, wrenching himself to the floor. And those splatters of inert bloody tissue recoil from the impact, and slowly begin to inch away.]

[Video]

[Oh hey, look, it's one of those wormy scientist guys! Why is the background so dark...?]

"Ah, is this thing on? Oh, alright. Ahh... ahem... It seems that just to compound the difficulty the power to the labs has gone out. No one is sure of the cause, and to top it off our illustrious Mister Freeman has gone missing. I knew the boy couldn't handle the pressure of administration. It may be a while before we can--wait, what was that? No, over there. By the air duct! Oh FINE, I'll go looOH GOD--"

[The rest is cut off by screams and a sickening prolonged crunch. It's safe to say that the Labs would like some help.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Don't worry, it should only take a few moments! Ah, assuming all goes well, that is." "Right, let's get started." "Just keep on the lookout."

Keep on the lookout? What do they think they are, a gang of ten-year-olds? Anyway, they get to work mulling over the busted generator and arguing in sniffy, sotto tones amongst each other. The light through the narrow shop windows do little to fight against the darkness. They're all so drawn into the task that the familiar squishing steps are ignored... except by Ran. There's an advantage to having large ears.

Back down in pipe world, the tendril dutifully retracts when Rex follows it, replaced by one further down to the side. It's very dark down there, and easy to get lost... plus it smells funny. Kind of a cross between chicken fat and motor oil. Is that pipe grading downward? It is. Down down down--WHOA CRAP IT JUST GAVE WAY AND THE STEEP SLOPE ROLLS REX RIGHT OUT INTO THIN AIR... and onto a concrete floor five feet below.

...in a red-security-lighted steam tunnel. wtf. Well, at least Gordon's waving at him from a nearby vent to urge him along. Obviously he meant for that to happen. Yeah.

Rex is about to comment on the growing stench when suddenly the pipe seems to give way and he begins falling. He shouts, surprised, but is cut off abruptly when he lands on the concrete on his back.

"Ouch."

It takes him a few moments to get himself up onto his elbows after that, and then onto his legs. But he manages to stand up, roll his shoulders a bit to get the pain out, and moves on.

"This isn't creepy at all."

He begins walking towards Gordon's gesturing tendril, cautious and wary.

Steam oozes out of overhanging pipes above, and the hiss echoes one way and then the other... The tunnels twist and turn and again grade downward; there's no way to tell how far down Rex actually IS by now.

Suddenly a second sound accompanies the idle workings of pressurized water vapor; thudding, splattering footsteps. The tendril nearest him goes still, and then shoots back into its hiding spot--or rather, into and then out of a vent behind Rex, along with five or so of its buddies. They latch across the tunnel on wires and outcroppings, drawing tight, creating a net of sorts. It distends as something shiny and blistering red raises a limb to bash it.

Rex can fight it, a megaton fist transfers impulse quite well through the holes of a tendril net. Or he could run, too.

Yeah, but where's the fun in that?

Rex decides it's a better idea to run towards whatever-it-is with a giant metal fist pulled back, ready to slam it into the next century.

The net dilates at the last minute and the bloodbeast is bashed backwards, sliding down the tunnel's floor from the inertia and leaving a nice red smear. Another leaps around it and charges...

And the grating beneath it buckles as a thick cluster of tendrils yanks it downwards. The beast falls out of sight with a satisfying splat.

Well, they can't go back. May as well keep going. Down the tunnel, to a concrete service annex, down some iron stairs to the side. The tendrils are now more present, hanging overhead... a few yank open the grate to a service elevator, the last part downward.

Rex is about to fight the next beast, but finds it's unnecessary. Instead, he lets his fists fold back into his arms and continues walking downwards, following the path downwards. He takes the presence of more tendrils as a sign that he's getting closer and continues on, eventually finding another service elevator.

"Uhh...thanks," he says to the tendrils holding open the doors as he walks through them.

Yes, it's awkward, but he didn't want any uncertainty. Not when they're this close. The sign nearby reads BASEMENT STORAGE: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY!

The lift descends into the wide, dark-red expanse littered with crates bearing indecipherable numbers and letters. The floor is cordoned off with black and yellow safety tape at arbitrary points. Grates and steam pipes curtain the ceiling, although as he continues to watch him he may notice something as the lift touches ground.

Some of those pipes occasionally contract. They're not pipes, they're bundles of tendrils suspended along the ceiling. Follow them back?

When Rex steps out of the lift, he's wary and tense, hands bunched into fists, ready at a moment's notice to smash something into the floor. He explores the area quietly for the moment, trying to figure out where he is and where to go from here.

It's then that he notices that what he thought were pipes are actually moving. Probably the same tendrils he's been seeing since he started leading those scientists through the labs.

Might as well follow them, then.

One bundle of tendrils is joined by another, and as Rex rounds a partition they come together and--

Oh god.

A bloated mass of peach, pink and red about the size of a small car hangs, sagging and suspended about ten feet in midair by the very tendrils it'd been using to manipulate everything to help Rex on the way down. It doesn't make a sound of greeting, although a few spare tendrils... wave at him.

...okay. Of all the EVOs Rex remembers from back home, this one ranks pretty high on the grossness scale. He tries not to cringe and make a disgusted noise. Well, he succeeds at the latter, at least.

"Uhhh...Gordon? You in there?"

[...You know, it would have been really great to at least have been turned into a PSYCHIC blobby gasbag. As it is, the best he can manage is more vague tendril waving and--oh no. Ngh. Not now--]

[He can't control it. With a gasp of inflation and a constricting "cough" it spats out an inert lump of red flesh that splatters to the ground in the center of the red landing pad that had been marked by many more before it. One that promptly dissolves into the familiar reddish ooze of the other beasts he'd been fighting. Immediately the tendrils whip down to try to control it, but it slips around and through, slithering towards Rex!]

...Well that sure explains where those things have been coming from. He wasn't sure what they were, exactly, but this explains a lot.

Not like Rex is really one for explanations. He builds giant robot feet over his own and takes the opportunity to try and squish the monster like a bug. "No better way to get rid of pests than grinding them to dust with your shoe!"

Transformation Matrix

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