2011-01-13 - The Beast Within Bardos

Behold, Bardos Island!

The magnificent fortress-island of the villainous Dr. Hell is certainly that, to be sure. Massive stone skulls rise from the exterior, hidden guns bristling all across the immense landscape in case any particularly tenacious intruders managed to get past the monstrous Machine Beasts patrolling the island. Above, a constant storm rages, powered by the mystical and scientific insanities and blasphemies contained inside Bardos. Certainly, it is a lair fit for a madman, a mad genius bent on exerting his will and his will alone onto the whole of Mankind and this beautiful blue earth.

It is not the madman himself who currently stands to receive the young visitor from BAHRAM in the mouth of one of those immense skulls, however. No, it is instead a group of the masked Iron Cross Army, dressed in their bizarre faux-grecian armor, carrying their strange blades at their hips. They are the eyes, the ears, and the blades of Dr. Hell; where the Machine Beasts were his slaves, these were his warriors, his army, each undyingly loyal - and in many cases, literally undying, warriors raised from the dead over and over to serve the old man's cause. At their head is Count Brocken, the resurrected general who leads the Iron Cross troops; the headless zombie general from a time before mankind ever touched the stars greets Ascian with a salute, albeit one aimed where his eyebrows would be were his head not tucked under his shoulder at the moment. The Iron Cross soldiers follow suit, making the reception a warm, if unnerving, one.

"Welcome to Bardos Island, Private Luddite," Count Brocken declares, the salute disappearing as his hand makes its way back behind the undead cyborg's back, "In the name of Dr. Hell and the Divine Crusaders, I, Count Brocken, general of the Hell Army Air Corps, shall be your guide. I trust that your journey here was a pleasant one?"

When he'd been called upon to appear upon Bardos Island, Ascian Luddite had been wholesomely suprised. His missions as of late had been taking a turn for the better, but lucky had still not been on his side, and he'd practically isolated himself to Mars and fending off EFA scouting parties and attempts of that same faction in surpressing the civilians of that very same planet. So when he got a call to come to earth after such a long time -- with the exception of the event at Chernobyl -- at first he wasn't sure what to think.

That same 'chaos' still has not quite left his mind, if only to have grown stronger upon arrival at Bardos Island. He'd seen it in the database a few times, but not even 3D holograms came remotely close to describing this place. Let alone its residents. Oldenday men and a zombie who held his head under his shoulder. It was a good thing he'd learned from a young age how to keep a pokerface - for otherwise he might have just stood there, staring at Count Brocken.

His Orbital Frame, Amenthes, is kneeled like a submissive woman, its hands on either side of the cockpit to have given him an easier way to get off of the unit and onto the ground beneath. Its red bioluminescence still grows strongly, and its 'eyes' are following Ascian as he wanders forth towards the reception party. The young man is holding the helmet of his normal suit underneath his right arm, and is opening the top of the suit itself with his left hand. His pace is firm. Practiced. Like a soldier.

But when he finally halts before the 'man' who salutes him, he himself bows down slightly, positioning himself slightly lower than Brocken, to indicate that he believes himself to be 'beneath' that man. A sign of respect. "I thank you, Count Brocken, for personally receiving and guiding one such as I." Ascian tries to speak in a refined manner, whilst coming out of his bow. "And yes. My journey was quite pleasant. I didn't meet any resistance on my way from Mars. I do appologize if my response to the request was slow." In fact, thanks to Amenthes' interplanetary travel capabilities, and with the help of the Urenbeckt Catapult, it had been very little time. But still it had taken him longer than he had wished for.

Brocken makes a gesture at Ascian to rise. "It was by the will of Dr. Hell that I greet you, and no more. Do not mistake this for some friendship on my part, Private - Dr. Hell believes you can be of use to him, and it is not my place, my inclination, nor my capability to argue with the will of my master." Brocken turns, gesturing for Ascian to follow, and the Iron Masks turn in time with the motion. It seems that even for a guest personally called upon by Dr. Hell himself, there are limits to the freedoms of those who set foot upon Bardos.

Brocken leads Ascian and the group through the stoney catacombs. It is a half-finished, half-excavated sort of thing; as if it was not built, but dug out, with parts that look like tunnels and parts with ancient sweeping grecian columns. Lights, some mystical stones, some advanced technology, and some simple lanterns and torches, force shadows to dance in their wake as the headless ghoul and the soldiers of Hell lead the boy from BAHRAM deeper and deeper into the island of the world's oldest and most nefarious supervillain.

Count Brocken does not speak until they've passed the docks of the Machine Beasts, a set of huge, sweeping caves in which the mechanical monsters that defy logic and explanation are being assembled and repaired. Only once the noise of construction has dimmed, when there is no sound but their own footfalls, does he open his mouth.

"What do you expect to find here, in the Island of Doctor Hell? You did not come because you were ordered - BAHRAM is proud, and arrogant, and full of its so-called honor. BAHRAM does not consort with the likes of Dr. Hell of its own free will, but by necessity." Brocken turns his own head around to stare at Ascian from his monocoled eye, to lock onto him and gaze judgementally at the boy, contempt radiating from his disembodied face. "You did not accept the invitation because you are someone who believe in Dr. Hell. You accepted for only one of two reasons I, Count Brocken, can imagine - and before I take you a step further, I will know now."

Brocken stops, turning to face Ascian with his body and his face, and the Iron Mask soldiers do the same; they draw their swords, each of the revived men waiting for Brocken's signal and Brocken alone.

"Did you come here because you seek to steal Dr. Hell's technology for BAHRAM? Or did you come here because you believe Dr. Hell will give you some advantage over your competitors that will help you in the eyes of the Divine Crusaders?" Brocken inquires. "Think carefully, boy - you know what happens if you lie to me."

Something about the light reflecting off his monocole makes it clear that the cybernetic supersoldier zombie isn't joking around with this.

Earlier, when Brocken had corrected him, Ascian had given little for response other than a respectful nod to show that he understood. There was no need to make more of a fool of himself than he needed. He continued to take off the top part of his normal suit as they then finally moved along, until it was hanging down from his waist - now showing his green military uniform, including an insignia which he'd finally attached to it, showing two lions staring away from a bright sun in the middle. It has some lettering underneath, claiming the word 'Akert'.

The BAHRAM framerunner paces further along with Brocken, letting his gaze skip from object to object as they pace through. Machine Beasts, candles, the many ghouls and what-have-you-nots are all taken in. But frankly, it was all a bit much. It was almost more surreal than his short stay in La Gias, where they had magic running rampant for gods sake. And as they continue on deeper, and the construction platforms disappear... and soon even the sound they were making, Ascian began to wonder just how much further they had to walk when suddenly...

They stopped. They stopped, whilst Count Brocken had just been talking 'badly' about BAHRAM. Of course, he was mentally gritting his teeth, but he knew how to keep a pokerface and keep this anger locked up inside. But when swords get drawn, the young man gets nervous. Was this a trap? Was he being punished for his constant failures here on earth? No, he was being accused of something. It was best to simply accept the reality of what was being said, rather than trying to find some kind of underlying motive.

He stands talls, staring Brocken straight in the eyes. For a short moment, he has that somewhat royal quality to himself, giving the man a sizing look with his sharp eyes. A gaze that could be mistaken for disrespect. But this is simply Ascian's 'serious' face. He himself wondered for a moment why he had so easily taken that invitation. But the things Brocken seems to think are things he can poke holes into.

"If BAHRAM were so arrogant and proud, why would it want to steal Dr. Hell's technology?" He shakes his head for a moment, as if seeking to ignore the fact that he'd just talked back to the Count. "I am here, because Dr. Hell, no matter how I look at it, is my superior. If he requests I come, I heed his call. It is not my place, as a soldier, to refuse such a request. I would be out of line. It doesn't matter whether I am from BAHRAM, Zeon, or anything like that. I am a soldier of the Divine Crusaders. That is all that matters."

Brocken's gaze is levelled upon him for a long moment, his hand held casually upwards, as if waiting to hear what Ascian had to say. As the boy speaks, he makes a single motion to the Iron Cross soldiers. As one, they nod, and their blades...

...slide back into their sheathes as Brocken sets his own head back on his shoulders and gives it a firm twist to realign it with his body. "Good. You have honest eyes and an honest face; I can see that you are not the usual fare of stupid soldier that the Divine Crusaders normally hold."

"This way," Brocken gestures, sweeping his hand to the side in front of a huge double door that just sort of appears out of nowhere, a massive wooden arrangement that was definitely not there a moment ago, "Dr. Hell awaits."

The door opens to organ playing, a dramatic sound that arrests the ears and demands attention. Inside, the source of the sound is indeed an immense pipe organ, nestled inside a vast, sweeping cathedralesque cavern. A red carpet leads up to the organ itself, and rows upon rows of seats sit under stained-glass images of two-faced monsters whose meanings are likely known only to Hell himself.

And speaking of the man himself...

There he sits, playing the organ, in all his grandiosity. The larger-than-life man who seeks to exert his will upon all reality seems less like a man and more like a force of nature - like an elemental of madness or genius or both, his hair is as wild as his roiling, impossible robes. Floating candles light blue skin as fingers roll across the organ, and as the music stops, Dr. Hell's yellow eyes gleam over his shoulder at the General of Hell, the Iron Cross Soldiers, and his young guest. Brocken and the soldiers have already fallen to their knees, arms crossed over their chests, one hand pressed over their hearts.

"Rise," Dr. Hell bids, his voice deep and dark like the pits of the abyss he is named for, "And leave us, Brocken. I am certain that young Mr. Luddite here means me no harm." Brocken does so, and the double-doors close and vanish behind them, leaving Ascian alone with the wild-eyed old man and his roiling red robes like mist.

"Welcome to Bardos Island, young man," Dr. Hell repeats, "I have no doubt that you know my name - for I am a man who should need no introduction in this world gripped in fear!" The old man waves his boney blue hand, gesturing for Ascian to come closer to the organ.

"No doubt you wish to know why I have called you to my fortress." The old man's fingers settle back onto the organ once more. "I thank you for accepting my invitation. Would you care for some refreshments, as we sit here and speak of tools of devastation and destruction?"

An honest face and honest eyes? Never before had be been told that. But then, there is a first time for everything, is there not? But such is a thought that remains only for a fraction of a second, for he is much more relieved that the blades shown to him sink back into their sheaths. His shoulders lower slightly as his body loses some of its tenseness. His gaze quickly shifts behind Brocken as the Count asks him to come 'this way', first seeing nothing, then suddenly... a door. He raises his right hand up to his face and pinches his nosebridge between his index finger and thumb, then looks again. No, there was a door now. Had he not been paying attention well enough? Details rarely escaped him though.

The young man follows into the massive 'cavern' and with a single sweep - his head moving to the right, eyes to the same edge, and then quickly flowing both to the left - he takes in every detail he can; lest he not realize there is a door where there was once no door. His attention then fixes on Count Brocken for a moment, only to dance along to Dr. Hell. He'd heard his voice many times, over the Radio. But being in his presence was surely quite different. There was a sudden sense of 'dread' when he looked upon the man who... almost didn't even look like a man. A small part of his mind was already telling him to flee. But he stands strong. Or rather, he bows.

When Brocken bows, he quickly does so as well. The moment since the door thing, he'd taken care to observe well. And when Dr. Hell says to rise, he rises and stands like a soldier. Arms along his sides, head slightly up. And as Dr. Hell speaks, he waits until it is his turn to answer. "You are right, Doctor. I know well, who you are." That was, in name and some of his deeds. "And indeed, I am curious as to why you would have summoned one such as I, a mere soldier. However, I believed it to be rude to ask such a thing out of turn, when I received the request."

The young man then finally steps forwards, as he'd been gestured to do so, and firmly paces towards the seat before the massive organ. He then inclines his head as he does indeed take a seat and turns his head only slightly to face Dr. Hell. The imposing figure gave him goosebumps - something which happened only rarely now. Even the giant worm at Chernobyl had not raised such a feeling. Perhaps it was because he was so far away from Amenthes? "As for your offer of refreshments. If you were so inclined, I would not refuse. The journey has been a long one." And though he has slight doubts about the subject matter offered to him, he does nod - showing that he would engage in such a conversation.

And there are refreshments, an Iron Cross Soldier standing near them, dressed in a tuxedo and holding a tray full of sugary and sweet delights the sort that soldiers could usually only long for and dream of from behind the windows of fancy shops. The man and the tray were certainly not there a moment ago, but they are equally certainly there now, looking almost comical in the sheer insanity of it all if not for the menacing neo-Grecian golden helmet and the impossibility of the appearance.

"You interest me, boy," Dr. Hell replies, running his fingers along the organ nimbly - a surgeon's nimble touch, a gifted and genius surgeon. But then, that was common knowledge - here was a man who could bring the dead back to life, after all! "It is rare to find a Divine Crusader who takes my advice so willingly. So, in the aftermath of the insane little girl's misguided stupidity, I decided to look into your files. You have quite an impressive test pilot record; moreover, you have a pragmatism about you that many of the idealistic idiots in the Divine Crusaders have forgotten, blinded as they are by their own foolish words and dreams."

Hell plays a bit more as Ascian is given time to chew and listen, the acoustics echoing through the chamber darkly, resonating with the atmosphere quite perfectly. Did he plan this for the impact, or is this simply the way the old man lives?

"The Divine Crusaders are fools." The declaration might seem to come out of nowhere, if not for the way the old man had spoken already; so full of annoyance, or pride, or arrogance, or genius, or all four, it's impossible to tell. "They do not realize the full depth of their own blindness. They cling to the days of Bian Zoldark, before ZAFT abandoned us and the uniting forces broke down with the rest of the chain of command. They cling to their own helpless goals and ideals, unwilling to compromise in the face of armageddon."

"BUT NOT I!" Dr. Hell's grand declaration is punctuated by his hands slamming down onto the keyboard. "Dr. Hell rejects the mistakes of the Crusaders! I refuse to allow this organization to fall because of the demented delusions of Haman Karn, because of the Mars-obsessed selfishness of Colonel Nohman, because of the secret-hoarding shortsightedness of Vindel Mauser, because of the conspiracy-driven lunacy of Leonard Testarossa! I, Dr. Hell, reject it!"

"They have forgotten that we need each other. They have forgotten that Zeon is a dead and rotting husk; that the Shadow Mirrors are but a small band of bandits, that BAHRAM is but a local military force. Even my army, as mighty as it is, is not mighty enough to face the full might of Katharon, the Earth Federation Alliance, and A-LAWS alone." Dr. Hell's yellow eyes gleam in the firelight as he looks over at Ascian.

"You see, boy, I forsee a conflict coming soon. A conflict that will decide the fate of my life and all that I have worked for and built. And I expect that in the aftermath of this conflict, only two outcomes can possibly occur. Either I will survive, and come out stronger for it...or I will die by the hand of Kabuto Koji, and the Divine Crusaders will be dealt another destructive blow."

"So I have been preparing. I have built Machine Beasts by the hundreds; each a mighty masterpiece ready to unleash its force upon the world and defend Bardos Island from all who would dare invade. I have raised the dead themselves, from my mighty generals to my hordes of warriors." Dr. Hell settles his fingers down on the organ, but he does not yet play. No keystrokes are dealt, as those eyes, those brilliant eyes holding back a tempest of madness, lock onto Ascian's own.

"And I have stolen the secrets of the Earth Federation's proudest machines, of the Beastman Armies of that lunatic Genome, and merged them together to produce a weapon for my darkest hour! Behold!"

"My Warrior Beast Eva G1s!"

Hell stabs his fingers down on the keys, and the whole room shifts, becoming transparent - or perhaps some sort of projection? It's impossible to say.

They float, still seated, above another machine beast bay, one much deeper inside Bardos Island. Situated in this bay, however, are several rows of identical beasts - great black bipedal things with six red eyes and huge black shoulders, monsters that look almost more biological and cybernetic than Machine...

"Behold my testbeds for the power of the human spirit." Hell murmurs, "Behold my genius in its purest form, plucked and distilled from lesser scientists into a weapon that runs on the very courage of its pilot, a biological weapon of immense power. Its muscles are the muscles of its pilot; its power is incredible. Each of them, waiting, waiting, for a pilot brave and strong enough to ride inside and fill them with willpower."

"A pilot great enough to grant them a will to carry out."

"What do you say, young mister Ascian Ludddite? Would you say this is worth coming down to Earth for from your lofty red planet?" Hell's smile is almost smug behind his wild and massive beard. "Would you say that this display interests you? Think of what you could do with the power of one of these great machines...and tell me."

"How would you like to fly one?"

The oddness doesn't end. When the soldier appeared, Ascian blinks his eyes a few times to make sure he was indeed seeing what he thought he was seeing. And... sweets? He takes a small 'dish' that looks like it is some kind of chocolate cake with a fancy fork, and nods his head kindly at the Iron Cross Soldier. He takes a bite, proceeds to be unable to stop himself from making a delighted sound, whilst turning towards Dr. Hell. Indeed, this was surreal. Eating sweets next to a man of madness, who could potentially even give Haman Karn a run for her money in that aspect. If he really tried.

Then Dr. Hell makes a strange statement. He interested him? He thought back suddenly of something Napth Pleminger once had said. He too, had claimed that he was interesting. That there was something about him. But he'd never found out what that was. Still, he listens, and makes a comment where he sees it appropiate, and believes there is time to speak; "An army divided is less than its individual parts combined." He agrees finally. Even if he felt hurt for hearing BAHRAM again being dragged through the mud, he was used to it by now, so let it slide. After all, it wasn't as if /Nohman/ ever took the time to single him out. And Haman Karn had simply laughed at it.

In fact, it was this dividedness that was part of what drove Ascian to wish for a rise in rank. To bring things under his own command and to use all of the resources effectively. Then finally, Dr. Hell explains his reasons for his rant.

Foreseeing a conflict? Ascian cannot help but frown. But whether it is due to the fact that the Divine Crusaders would likely lose great power, or care for Dr. Hell's life... isn't something that can easily be read off of his facial expression. "I hope it will be the first." He states firmly, then continues to listen patiently as Dr. Hell explains all the preperations he had made. A large army. Why did a 'large' army, one of many numbers, always tend to spell nothing but trouble for its owner?

His gaze does follow the man's hand onto the organ and lingers there, waiting for the man to press it. And when he finally does, it is impossible not to be momentarily disoriented. He kind of 'grabs' for his seat with one hand - the fork almost clatters off of the plate with the half of rich chocolate cake that is still on it... but he manages to compensate - all of that to make sure he doesn't fall as the whole area around him changes. And when he finally realizes that they aren't /actually/ moving, he lets go of the bench.

"Warrior Beast EVA G1?" He whispers to himself, turning his eyes down towards the massive beasts. It was somewhat of a long name, it it didn't really flow well. But he could feel that they were given such a name to aptly represent their power. Because if anything, that is the general aura those things gave off when he looked upon them. "They look..." A grin suddenly forms on his face, and he turns towards Dr. Hell. "Devilish." A word that had once been used for Amenthes not too long ago at the N.U.T. facility on Mars. There was that twinge of madness in his own eyes, something not to uncommon amongst those of BAHRAM, joined by a very slight 'glow' beneath his eyes, within the grooves set there like scars. Markings of poison.

"Yes. This interests me greatly." His entire mood seemed to have changed. He was being offered power after all. "Power as great as which you describe sounds like it will take much of me to control; but as you said before, my test pilot record is neigh without flaw." He sounds so... sure of himself. "I will fly one." Not 'I would like to', but 'I will'. "And simply show you, instead of wasting time to utter words that could never come close to describing reality, what I /can/ do with such power."

"You /will/, will you?" Dr. Hell declares, his yellow eyes bulging suddenly, as if he was suddenly struck by an absolute fury. "You /will/ fly one? You *dare* to presume to tell me what you *will* do with one of *my* most precious machines?"

And then the old man throws back his head and laughs. It is a chilling laugh, the laugh of a man whose heart is black as night and perhaps even blacker than that, a heart full of evil to the absolute core, surrounded by ambition soaked in insanity.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!"

"Indeed you will, Ascian Luddite." Dr. Hell waves his hand, the terrifying visage of the blue demon disappearing once more to be replaced by the more neutral gaze of the old man. "Indeed you will pilot one of my Warrior Beasts. You, who have the courage to dictate to Dr. Hell in his own home your actions - yes, you will show me what you can do, won't you? In your care, the Warrior Beast will be filled with a will indomitable that shall live on and grow even after I am long dead!"

Dr. Hell stands, his cloak sweeping outwards like a chaotic wave of red and purple. "You shall be the pilot of my Warrior Beast, Ascian Luddite! This is the will of Dr. Hell! Not for me - not for BAHRAM, nor for Zeon, nor for Shadow Mirrors nor Amalgam - but for yourself, and for the glory of the Divine Crusaders!"

The image disappears, or the cathedral returns, or whatever magic is at work fades away, leaving them in the great stone hall again. "Come... let me show you the instrument of your will, my boy."

Of course, it is impossible not to fear a man such as Dr. Hell when one makes such a social faux pas, but Ascian doesn't show it. His gaze remains unfaltering, and his general posture one of certainty. Of course, one has to ignore the fact that the hand which held the fork that moved a small chunk of chocolate cake into his mouth was trembling and almost dropped it before it made it to his mouth.

However, thankfully, that tremble disappears when Dr. Hell's visage alters once more into that of what he had seen when he'd arrived. A more... neutral, if not at least 'kindly' looking one, compared to the furious one before. He could feel that the hair on his arms and legs were still standing up end though, and his heart was still beating like a madman. And he'd probably start wondering in a few hours where in the /world/ he'd gathered the courage and strength not to let his fear take over.

"Though I will not have you fall. And you will likely far outlive myself." With the suggestion that Dr. Hell was magical in a ways, whilst he was a mere 'frail human'. Not to claim that he was weak. His entire way of talking had changed away from 'ifs' and 'buts' to mere statements of power. "And you are right. I will indeed pilot it for myself, and the Divine Crusaders as a whole."

"It is entirely more likely that I will die far before you ever do," Dr. Hell replies as he presses another button; the organ slides to the side like something out of an ancient comic book, revealing a winding set of stairs lit once again by the magical/super-technological illumination of Bardos Island. How much of this is his doing, and how much whoever once dwelled here's...?

"I do not forsee the Divine Crusaders standing with me in the fight to come, beyond a few scattered members. No, I expect they are not bright enough to realize what will happen when I fall..." With that cryptic statement, the old man snags the red-topped gold-and-white scepter-cane beside him and begins to walk down the stairwell, without checking to see if Ascian is following. "They are selfish and self-obsessed, and that will be both my undoing and their own in this age where others have learned to put aside their hatreds. If the would-be heroes of this world would band together to stop us..."

The old man heaves a sigh. It is a long-suffering sigh, the sigh of one who has seen all this exact stupidity happen before and knows exactly what's coming. "But no, we cannot put aside our hatreds for even a moment. I am not perfect, either - you have already heard my contempt for the rest of the fools of the Crusaders." He waves a hand dismissively. "But at least I can say that before I die, I will leave a legacy burned into this Earth for all eternity. In ten thousand years, when mankind looks back at this age, they shall remember the name Dr. Hell!"

Of course, Ascian knew he could not speak for the Divine Crusaders as a whole. He was a soldier. Yet, some part of him did want to offer some kind of hope for Dr. Hell in telling him they'd all be there. But he'd just sound like a fool. So, wehn the both wander past the organ into the halls, he remains strangely silent for a while, carefully placing his feet as they go down the stairwell. "Heroes? I believe you mean hypocrites that will have us all die." Ascian lets out a disgusted sound.

He continues to follow Dr. Hell further and further. Then finally, he does ask. "Do you think that the Divine Crusaders could ever be brought together once more under a single flag, like Bian Zoldark once managed? Or is the vision of a united faction such as ours truly such foolish and wishful thinking." He doesn't let it show what he thought on the subject. In fact, he's currently deep in thought of what the world could possibly be like in ten thousand years. He couldn't. He'd only lived twentythree of them. He was hardly even a baby compared to Dr. Hell's age. But it was that age that he believed imparted the bearded man with wisdom that might give himself answers.

"Hypocrites or heroes, it doesn't matter," Hell replies as he pauses in front of another pair of massive double-doors. He raises his cane, a red light filling the room, and the doors swing open to reveal the catwalks above the Warrior Beasts they had seen but a moment ago. Hell paces out onto the catwalk, stopping to clench the handrail in his gnarled blue fingers as soldiers scurry about on the ground, performing maintenance work on the massive beasts.

This close, their more organic nature seems almost obvious. The black plating is clearly some kind of armor stapled on overtop their fleshy parts; weapons bulge underneath the muscle, as if hidden away or even *grown* into them directly. They are grotesque. But they are powerful.

"No," Hell admits, "I do not. There is no one in the Crusaders interested in doing so, and no one with the power or vision to take hold. I am a sad old man now, in their eyes; a joke and a fool, because they are arrogant and stupid children who believe I have nothing left to give this world."

"But that is not what I called you to talk about. My ramblings are my own; come, and inspect your new machine."

The BAHRAM framerunner halts and leans over the railling to get a better look at the black hulking and monsterous machines. And indeed, he took note of their rather odd nature, and the weapons he could see at a chance. He looked the entire machine over... and then finally. Finally, he asks the big question. "So... where is the cockpit?" He could simply not see any /obvious/ hatches, and he was kind of afraid he'd have to climb up the thing's mouth or something...

Well, at least, no matter what, it could not be in as of an embarassing location as that of an Orbital Frame. Which he'd received some commentary on, especially as the Amenthes had... well... boobs on her. He really had to wonder about his father and his design choices sometimes. "And when do I start?" He moves past Dr. Hell and finds the easiest way towards the machines - taking him along the walkways into the direction of the nearest machine. He didn't have to ask, he knew that one was his. For some reason. Okay, he didn't /know/, he just had a gut feeling.

"The chest opens up, much like a mobile suit; the controls are fairly simplistic, so it shouldn't be any trouble before you learn the advanced features of the machine. Or begin to develop more..." Hell notes cryptically, setting his hand on the arm of the machine Ascian has picked/selected. "There is no manual, but I believe you will figure it out in short order. You're an intelligent boy, from your files."

"You can take it whenever you like. I can arrange a transport for you now, if you so choose."

Hell's thoughts drift away for a moment to the dead Bian Zoldark. This was the sort of boy he would've approved of; a strong lad, full of vision and promise. This was the sort of person Hell could entrust the future too.

"You have a bright future ahead of you, boy. I look forward to seeing what you make of it."

"I see." Ascian looks down the machine's chest from the front. The walkway is missing a railling on that side, and its chest is connected to it almost directly - a twosome of feet leeway. "No need to get a transport. If worst comes to worst, Amenthes can carry it." He doesn't seem to be implying that she would literally carry it though. That wasn't the tone 'carry' had to it. It was more like he was suggesting that Amenthes could /hold/ the Warrior Beast.

He then finally reaches out, slightly bent down, and touches his fingers to the almost fleshy-feeling armor. Immediately, a squelching sound comes from the material, and it parts away, revealing the insides of the machine. It was... bizarre. Wires everywhere, stuck both in flesh as well as in metal. He retreated his finger the moment it had parted away from him, then... turns towards Dr. Hell. He has a manic smile on his face.

Not waiting one more moment, he jumps right on in and turns about. The machine remains yet unresponsive, even as he touches his hands to the metal and fleshy parts within. He then looks at the metalic handles on both sides. "So that's how." He stands upright within and with one fell move grabs both of them, winding his arms through and layings his fingers around the ends. "Yes. This will work." He turns his eyes in front of him, and suddenly sees as screens around him suddenly show series of small images showing a mighty lion with a big cross through it. Ascian's right eye twitches, the glow of Metatron poisoning showing beneath once again. "Don't you dare make me look bad in front of the Doctor..." He mutters.

"DON'T YOU FUCK WITH ME! YOU'RE MINE NOW!"

And as if it were suddenly abiding thanks to this spirit, the hatch immediately closes up with another squelching 'slurp' - metal armor fortifying the cockpit - its screen shows in full 360 degree angle. And the images? They suddenly show a big green 'thumbs up', followed by the machine on the outside suddenly /roaring/, literally, as it comes to life. Its eyes come to a full glow, and its arms begin jerking away at the cables it is still attached to.

Dr. Hell's smile is one of absolute devilishness. The man didn't need to understand how Amenthes would hold his beast; he had seen too much in this world to question such things. He watched with amusement as Ascian entered the machine, as he brought it dominated to his will, as he took hold of its power and made it his own. Hell flicks his wrist, and the cables come loose, Bardos Island responding to the immense willpower of its master; the warrior Beast is given absolute freedom to move as it pleases.

"Go, boy. Show me what your power is capable of! Write your will on this wretched world - surpass a god! Surpass a devil!"

"I have but one request...and that request is that, no matter what happens to me, you destroy Koji Kabuto! Destroy Mazinger Z!"

Ascian grins within the machine. Everything suddenly seemed so small before him. He had experience with 360 vision, but this was... different. It was almost as if the machine was pushing back against him as he tried to make him move. Almost like a joystick giving a direct force of feedback on him, only now... on his mind. This struggle made things feel 'real' however.

Then, Dr. Hell says something interesting. The Beast takes a single step back as its arms come free, and almost stumbles, before Ascian quickly asserts his will over its legs and catches itself. He might be a great test pilot, but he was no prodigy. And this system was new. Still... there is a certain amount of 'ability' he already is showing as the machine's mouth opens slightly and begins to... talk.

"You are right. Mankind does think small. Even commander Pleminger merely seeks to be a God within Horus. To go beyond that is where I will go." In his mind, he is grasping his own fist. And the machine... mimics it almost perfectly! Raising its arm and grasping for the air - making a fist. "I'll make the impossible possible." Something he once had decided not to even try at. He takes another step, away from Dr. Hell, into the rest of the hangar. "And I /will/ destroy Koji Kabuto and his machine. Count on me, herr Doctor."

"I knew that I was right to trust in you, boy," Dr. Hell replies, as he watches the great black-armored warrior beast raise its hand and make a fist. Yes, this boy was perfect; he could serve Hell's designs in ways that Brocken, Ashura, and Pygman could not. No... no, rather, he could further this machine, and prepare for the coming of those beasts who are greater than god or devil themselves.

The old man turns away from Ascian and his machine. The double-doors swing open again as Dr. Hell starts to laugh - another laugh of triumph.

"Soon, Juuzo...that wretched hulk you call Mazinger Z will be no more...and I, Dr. Hell, will have won our little game...and when I meet you in Hell, I will bring those words as my final victory! Farewell, Mazinger Z!"