To us, the non-existent
A BloSc FanFic by A.K. Kamper
No, I do not own any of the characters from BloSC – they belong to Disney. I may have taken the artistic freedom of changing the appearance of one of the characters, due to aging, but apart from that... Well, I do hope you read it anyway. Heh, It's just a tribute to my fav. villain.
Check out my fansite at www.giftedvampire.
Motherboard Mainframe System...
Entering code to system matrix...
Opening randometric Log…
Reading latest entry...
We are compelled, the non-existent. Each night we dwell within our sorrows, hoping for the world to forgive us... Our sins for not being...
NOS-4-A2 put down the battery. He hadn't been draining enough those last weeks. He was in a rather poor shape, not having recieved anything the other night. A tired sigh escaped his chrome lips. The taste was no joy either. An old, nearly empty batteri could never satisfy his thirst. He stared at it for a while, questioning himself whether to move his tired unit outside or to stay inside his humble lair to rest.
He weighed his options. Going out in his state of low power could prove fatal, if his victim fought too bravely. Staying where he was would be safer, but without recieving energy soon, his ability to recharge would be unavailable. These days, little prey was without weapons to defend themselves from creatures like him.
NOS-4-A2 sighed to himself again, recalling the olden days where he actually was respected by good as well as bad. Even his maker, Zurg, knew how powerful he was.
But then came his dreadful mistake. Trust. He had been foolish; what kind of villain would ever lay his trust in another villain.
That blasted, decietful piece of easy prey! NOS-4-A2's fangs gritted in irritation. A villain never trusts anyone but himself – he learnt that lesson too late.
Several years had passed since that fateful day on Zurgs tower, where his enemies had ended him for the second time. Even more embarassing was his first end – by a little girl.
Everyone belived him to be gone. The rangers, the alliance, even the villains. Not even Zurg knew that he had somehow managed to reassemble himself after the explosion...
Well, almost reassembled. His left arm was still missing, and after 10 years of searching for it, he had officially given up. The lack of limbs made it harder for him keeping hold of his prey.
Although, his lack of arm wasn't really to blame. His state had worsened ever since that little punk impaled him down the sewers. After that event, he was too weak to continue his villain buisness alone. He was desperately in need of a brawn to do his dirty work and help him fulfill his plan. The little girl was the cause of his employing a turncoat.
That little, insolent brat. He did not know her name. A shame, certainly. He would gladly have had a little rant on her, even though it would cost him his 'unlife' again in this state. He knew, altogether, he would never hear the crackling sound of the energy, eminating from his wings again. Those had stopped working a long time ago, ... or rather, he had forgot how to use them. They could not function without a decent amount of energy. In fact, he had been sitting still in this 'prison' for over a month.
Undoubtedly, this was his last retreat. A predator always retreats into loneliness, when it's time to die. Thus he was programmed to do.
Why was he starting to cry now? He had started dying over 10 years ago. He had been mortally struck by that little girl, the way a vampire is to be struck.
The old armchair he was sitting in creaked under a weight that wasn't his own. His cape was horribly torn the way it had been when he burst into oblivion.
Now... he was simply waiting for his own unit to go offline.
All he did was gazing into the darkness that made his lair. Sometimes a vague, ironic chuckle echoed silently inside the ebony walls.
Ebony, as darkness carries no colours...
NOS-4-A2 had realized a fact... The fact that made him feel so utterly safe, even in this wistful time.
He was non-existent. How lovely... This meant that he would die alone, with none of those annoying intruders.
He winced all of a sudden, an old pain caused by the mechanical wound where his arm should have been...
Everyone applaused as Ranger Savy recieved her medal. Pride struck her heart, making her feel more in control of her future than ever.
"- And it is with great honour that I pronounce you commanding officer of Team SL-2..."
Savy didn't pay attention to the rest. She was keeping eyecontact with her parents. Her adoptive parents – robot parents. But she liked them anyway. They were her parents, and she'd saved them herself. Even avenged them herself. Savy shook Commander Nebula's hand and savoured her congratulations.
"Oh, I'm just so proud of you, my girl!" her mother said. "How you've grown – it's amazing how fast carbon-based lifeforms change..."
Savy hugged her mother, feeling ever so much in her right element. Thinking of it, her mother was actually right. She could often see her reflection in her parents metal surface. She had become a woman – a rather beautiful woman, some had told her.
She shook her blue hair. Her partner was a nice Starcommand robot. Savy had always felt the better around robots, since she'd alway seen them as family. A robot as teammate was her only demand for becoming a leading officer.
The robot, DF-5, was an old model, like the one Ranger Parsec had had as a partner. So she had a sentry-bot for now, but she felt better off with that than with a real creature.
It had been a blessed coincidence that the old model vendbot had lost its way down his lair on Tradeworld. The sewers to be accurate. NOS-4-A2 was sauntering through the low-roads of the slums. Finally, he'd aquired enough energy to go outside the safety of his lair.
He wouldn't need to fear any asassin, though. Everyone belived him to be gone. His file in the Starcommand index was labeled 'expired'. He was non-existent and thus not a problem beknownst to his enemies.
In this condition and with nothing in particular to do, NOS-4-A2 had a lot on his mind. Strange thoughts he hadn't been saddled with until recently. Things, most of which were rather silly or demented.
All these thoughts, questions and theses were copied into his randometric log. A strange programming detail, he believed. All those olden phrases had not helped him to learn from his mistakes anyway. It was a silly waste of energy and space.
All it would store was thoughts. NOS-4-A2 tutted to himself in silence. As if any villain would need unnecessary thoughts – especially not a robot villain! But in his present time of idleness it was presumably alright to glance back into the past.