Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans
So I finally got to post this. It's my first piece of fanfiction, but who cares. There's more to come. Reviews are much appreciated.
It's cold here. It might not be cold enough to be Antarctica, but the impenetrable darkness would definitely fit well enough. But Antarctica never had levels like Dantes hell. And few places inhabited this particular breed of bizarre creatures.
The bottom of the ocean, perhaps. There are always sounds in the ocean, just about no matter where you go. Here; a steady, monotone, soulless hum, source and direction indeterminable.
This is the place all whales eventually sink to, a graveyard for the greatest creatures to have ever roamed planet Terra. Daylight is void, and the bumps in the everlasting night never cease. The songs of whales travel the globe, and no environment is too barren for something small and sharp not to scuttle about in the shadows.
Outside these frost-walls, the footfalls and whispers of giants come and go, sometimes the storm of immense battles, threatening to destroy this small, cold world. And sometimes, the gate is opened, for elder inhabitants to disappear forever, or for new, strange somethings to enter, for however long.
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For only seconds, peace was broken into a thousand stinging shards. Pandemonium was bright and loud, and ended with a short thunder as suddenly as it had started.
Everything was dark and cold once more. That was good, somehow; secure. Like the world should be that way. The chaos only moments ago had been harmless, almost immaterial. That much seemed known.
The sweetly smell of rot in a thousand variants had thinned little. A brief gust of warmth from beyond was fading. It had almost stopped prickling.
There was a strange sensation, as if something unpleasant had happened. But everything was as it should be, as it somehow knew was right.
The staleness that surrounded it above and below; the chill, hard grounds and planes as everlasting and unmoving as it knew them to be; the sour, sweet, tangy and bitter, soft, mushy, crisp and liquid things that were; everything was in its place.
Something was not as it should be. Something was different: A smooth-hard surface; not cold. It wasn't supposed not to be cold, it was strange and alien not to be; not right.
At the same time, the warmth was pleasant, and soon it moved all of itself towards this lingering heat from beyond the world. It was a slow movement, and though the foreign object had been placed right next to some of it, the rest was still elsewhere. Above, below and from the deepest corners it slowly retracted itself towards the warmth, beneath it and upwards, where the heat seemed to gather.
On its top, it was no longer hard. It was soft, and very warm. It had a mild, sweet-salty taste.
Without willing it, it decomposed outer layers of itself and secreted enzymes in a sour juice to mix into the warm mass inside the smooth shell. Billions upon billions of microorganisms and parasites – some big enough to contain entire ecosystems of more parasites inside themselves – unleashed themselves upon the fresh and rich feeding grounds
Within seconds, the very outermost layer of softness had become scummy mucus it could absorb some of into itself, and it tasted that it was good.
There was also another sensation, something as strange as the warmth, but not good. As this new sensation grew, it became increasingly clear that the feeling was something else than good, like something that wasn't right, or not-right. The feeling came from the warm mass.
There was no thought. There wasn't even a pre-programmed instinct for this input. Some of it reacted, moved or dissolved itself: The extent of its abilities. Some of it just sensed its own damage as it progressed, not take any pleasure or displeasure in it, just experiencing it as it would any aroma or flavour.
Then it wasn't the only thing that moved. The mass turned over inside its shell.
The world shook then. Tremors travelled along the level. The warm mass spilled out of the encompassing surface and onto wiggling, dissolving body-parts and extensions.
It felt the mass shift inside itself in a million places, its gelatinous surface changing from smooth and soft to something more rough and rubbery as the gooey thing reacted by splitting open all over itself like pores sucking in air.
It could then feel itself filtered inside this alien substance along with the sour juices. It felt cells decompose to a point below the safe and reversible digestive process inside this thing, felt its symbiotic microorganisms dying and still greater parts of its own sterilised.
The pain didn't register to it as pain, and fight-or-flee instincts didn't kick in, because it had no instinctive concept of pain, or for that matter of anything beyond feeding on whatever it found.
That's why, even though this food obviously was the cause of this non-good feeling, it couldn't respond in any other way than to try eating it more.
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And so, two hardly identifiable substances slowly slid through one set of grates after the other, all the while melting further into cellular disintegration and biological warfare until they reached the bottom, where they stayed, rotted, and died in a cold, dark place.
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"Let's see then. And the winner by strangely living stuff in the T-tower iiiis…" He opened the door. "… Uurhg!"
"– Holy, sweet mother of…!"
"Dude-dude-dude-dude-dude! Close it, fast dude!"
He closed the door, mindful not to slam it, as it would only demolish the fridge with the force he usually slammed things.
"God, the stench! It's… incredibly… almost awesome."
"Don't even think about adding some of that to the stankball. I will not sanction it, it'd be a crime of war.
"Right, ok … sooo…?"
"… So what?"
"Which one won?"
A disbelieving look. "Do you want me to open it again to find out?"
"Just let me take cover before you do."
"You already saw what was in there. How am I supposed to determine if one of them is still… alive?"
"You're the man with the scanners."
"Oh, yeah… but I don't feel like taking such a close look at that. I mean, you don't wanna find out with your animal senses either."
"I see you point."
"So let's not."
"This was such a bad idea."
"It was already pretty messy with just the fridge-fungus. I think I had a couple Duracell batteries in there."
"Draw. Let's unplug this, bury it in the hole. Actually, you do that, and I'll go buy a new one, and some fresh, 'shroom-free food – and tofu, so don't worry."
"Ok, good. But who's going to explain Starfire that her glorg supreme is buried like a corpse in our backyard?"
"The fungus too. I think she was secretly cultivating that thing all along, sly little girl… I guess we can make another bet; the loser talks to Star."
"Cool. What's the bet?"