soul_logs | [OPEN] Mission 155

Entry tags:

[OPEN] Mission 155

Characters: Open to those who signed up here.
Location: An unmarked cavern system outside Death City.
Rating: Various.
Time: March 18th, sunrise.
Description: Shibusen agents brave underwater caverns to take out the first of three Madness emitters.

Missiongoers pile out of the mirrors early in the morning, just as the first hints of sun start to color the walls of the sandstone canyon red and purple; it'll be the last bits of real light they'll see for at least a few hours. The atmosphere is electric -- there're quite a few new (and old) arrivals who're eager to see some action, but just as many people who're feeling rather more apprehensive… And for good reason.

The only way to their destination is blocked by a few hundred yards of sunken tunnels. Luckily they've been provided with mouthpieces, breathing apparatuses with enough oxygen to last about ten minutes: more than enough time, provided that the guests don't lose their way in the dimly-lit, twisted caverns. It's as easy as following the person in front of them, right?

Upon emerging safely from the pool onto mostly-dry land, they'll find themselves in an immense cavern, illuminated by countless, blue fungi clinging to the walls and ceiling, looking like stars dotting a night sky. Already the first signs of the way Madness has been corrupting the wildlife are evident: the mushrooms exude strange spores that make some people's head pound the same way the increasingly noticeable Madness wavelength does.

As they travel further into the watery caves and explore its many branches, they'll begin to encounter creatures twisted by Madness: moles, snakes, beetles, centipedes, all grown to monstrous proportions, some with a venomous bite that quickly turns their victim feverish and delirious. The more daring fighters can easily dispatch those and delve even deeper, and it's near the source of the Madness, in the chamber housing the emitter itself, that they'll encounter the kishin eggs.

There're dozens of them-- eyeless, white, vaguely human-shaped things, but despite their blindness they have no problem finding their quarry, fighting with claws and exuding their own Madness wavelength. If the missiongoers can stand strong against the kishin eggs and the ever-present wavelength given off by the Madness emitter, Shibusen's specialists will have enough time to shut the machine down for good.

OOC NOTES.
- The event summary post containing all relevant links is located here.
- Make your own threads, but please indicate in your subject line [CHARACTER(S) | LOCATION | OPEN/CLOSED] and, if applicable, if you need a kishin egg NPC!
- The locations are the sunken tunnels, the medics area, the cave system, and the emitter chamber, but only the medics will have their designated sub-thread.
- If you have any further questions, the mod thread on the coordination post is here!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Things were escalating. Good, let them escalate! He'd always been an instigator, never one to sit back passively as the world passed around him. Neither was he one to shrink from a challenge; he stood his ground solidly against Barricade's menacing advance, head tilted back arrogantly. Though much of that had to do with the fact that he was less than half the robot's size, he still managed to make it seem as if he was looking down on the much larger person, and not up.

It was with an almost gleeful grin -- full of oddly-sharp teeth, for a humanoid -- that he prepared to prod the lion in its cage even further. Qilby almost got that far, mouth slightly open with more goading words in store, before a faint noise made him snap his head forward down the passage.

A moment of sobering clarity hit him-- for one miraculous second, survival was more important than indulging his starved ego and, incredibly, he balked. He glanced back up at Barricade out of the corner of his eye and in that look was clear, obvious apprehension. "I..." He began, the weaker, gentler tone sounding positively foreign coming out of his mouth, now. "... I'm not useless."

Yeah, that was convincing. Qilby drew a shuddering breath and tried again. "I-- I don't think I'm quite feeling myself right now. You're right." After a moment's hesitation, he held out his hand. "Transform now, while we're both lucid."

Barricade was ready for it, either to snap back or start a damn fight regardless of who instigated. He'd had larger and nastier than Qilby back him into a corner and pressure him into a scuffle. The fact that he was still alive, thousands of years later, was proof enough of what he could face and survive.

The chance to make good on his threat was gone almost as quickly as it had come, as Qilby looked away from him and faltered. Oh, so now he agreed with him? Get him all wound up for a fight he'd been wanting since he arrived here, then revert to the meek old man? Furious, Barricade slammed his fist into the cavern wall above Qilby's head, before pulling away and walking half a stride back. He stilled when he picked up on the same noise that the Meister did, realizing now what had brought about the change. Nothing like a little outside pressure to put things into perspective.

He looked down at Qilby's offered hand, realizing he would have rather fight the man than try to transform. The easy way was never the right way, unfortunately. As for how useless Qilby thought he wasn't, Barricade would believe it only when he saw it.

"Fine," he growled, optics darting between the hand and the steadily increasing sound down the passage. Barricade was all too aware of how phenomenally bad what was about to say would sound. "Just - give me a minute."

Qilby turned his head away from the impact above his head-- not out of fear, or weakness, but simply to avoid the little pieces of cavern wall that showered over him. There it was again, his control was back. If that was Madness just now, it was... Intoxicating. Alluring, even. But the only thing he hated worse than having to fetter himself was not having the discipline to do it if he so desired. He valued freedom -- the freedom to be as horrible to Barricade as he pleased or not -- but not at the expense of his will, his own strength.

For all his assertiveness, that was a weakness he'd shown before, and it wasn't one he was going to show again if he had any say in the matter.

Qilby let his hand drop slowly, forcing himself to look more quizzical than frustrated when he urged, "But I thought you said you could--" He cut himself off, struggling to ignore the insistent pounding in his head. It was comforting, easier to think that the struggling feeling meant that he was warding off the Madness, that he was fighting and winning.

"Hold onto that anger if it helps you," he advised, sounding like his dry old self again and shooting slightly nervous glances up the tunnel. "If you can't transform and we die here, you won't get a chance to try and hurt me the way you've been wanting to this entire venture."

Barricade had never said he could do anything of the sort, nor had he said he couldn't. A simple lie of omission just kept things rolling along, and Qilby only needed to know what Barricade wanted him to know. If that didn't go both ways, he'd honestly be surprised.

He'd already tried treating the change like his usual transformation, but that hadn't worked. He'd gone through all the pseudo-meditation feel good nonsense (the best he could) and that hadn't worked either. Goading Bumblebee into knocking him down the stairs had done it, but there was no replicating that here. Now Qilby wanted him to hold onto his anger, when that was threatening to make him completely lose his mind? Maybe the Meister did want to die, after all.

"You have no idea," Barricade snarled, though he kept his distance. He struggled to put into use what Demona had told him about the Madness Wavelength, that focusing on what made him happy and restful would help fight it. Well, he'd had time to try to lengthen that list, but it was still fairly empty and pathetically short. You couldn't waste time mourning the loss of something if you never cared about it in the first place, and after everything he'd lost? There wasn't much point picking new things and watching them get to torn to shreds eventually.

Now it just meant he had to do the shredding first, and there was no way he was dying down here. The only thing that motivated him to keep Qilby alive was the requirement of his presence to do what he wanted. It was repulsive in almost every regard, but it would have to do, and it would have to be enough. And miraculously, it was just that - after only a few minutes of nothing happening, Barricade's form shifted down into something much smaller, leaving only a hollowed out version of his own clawed hand.

The loss of his headlights plunged the passage into darkness for a brief moment, until the glow of the mushrooms returned. The approaching noises persisted, coming disturbingly close now.

He'd never admit it in a million years, but he hadn't felt relief like he was feeling -- after seeing Barricade transform just now -- for a very, very long time. Qilby was about to say something about how he was sorry for doubting his partner (but certainly not sorry enough to sound like he meant it) but then he noticed just what he had transformed into.

There was no room for him to be picky, he knew that-- and he wasn't about to cause a big deal after all the blood and tears it took to get this far along... But that was his Weapon form? Really? After all this time he'd gone without wielding someone, the very first Weapon he happens upon turns into a hand? Either this universe was trying to throw him a bone, or was making fun of him. Qilby was more inclined to believe the latter. The obvious (and entirely tasteless) jokes about being lent a hand could be made later, however-- it sounded as if he was about to have more pressing matters to deal with.

"You make it look so easy," he quipped, tone light. Odds were looking up; he had the luxury of levity here. There was another moment's hesitation -- like the one earlier -- before he could bring himself to lay a hand on Barricade, but it was either resoluteness or desperation that finally made him take the plunge. He hoped this wasn't simply another way for the robot to bite off his good hand, or something.

With contact came the first sense of the other's soul wavelength: a faint, insistent presence like the Madness, but this was more alien, less welcoming. But this wasn't something he could fight or hope to control-- all of his theory, all of his research told him it was something he merely had to immerse himself in. Like drifting in the ocean, letting the currents carry him where he wanted to go. His own soul was old, like a tree with its deep-running roots planted firmly in the earth-- but even the most solid of trees had to bend so as not to shatter in a storm. Qilby knew what he wanted, and he'd do anything to achieve it, even if it meant quashing his ego to work with someone else. And what he wanted right this very second was not to die... That was all the motivation he needed to slip his only hand in the claw-like gauntlet, flexing a few fingers tentatively once it (he?) fit snugly.

"If it feels this strange for me, I can't even imagine what it's like for you," he muttered, marking this momentous occasion with a completely unnecessary comment.

Barricade wasn't exactly thrilled about it himself - Bumblebee got to be a suit of armor, and he was his own fragging hand. Good news was, there was a lot more strength in his arms and hands than one would think, and hopefully that translated over to his weapon form. Whether or not he was mobile in this form remained to be seen, but at present he simply waited for Qilby to get with the program and pick him up.

The resonation, when it happened, was startling and foreign until he managed to catalog it as something more familiar. He'd served as a host before, and those like Frenzy were hardwired to his systems, and even had a physical presence in his own frame. He could monitor everything about the drone when they were connected, and he wasn't as adverse to that sort of proximity. Working alone was better, but if he could think of Qilby as a newly acquired symbiont, all the better.

Once their souls were about as in sync as they were going to be, Barricade's weapon form shifted to fit Qilby's five fingered hand, the armor sliding seamlessly into place. The pressure was just short of being uncomfortably tight, but that sensation went along with Barricade's apprehension about this whole set up. He resisted the feel of Qilby's wavelength against his at first, finally relenting when survival instincts overrode his defenses. Barricade had thousands of years of life behind him, certainly not as many as Qilby, but his age only showed in how long he'd been so angry and bitter and violent.

"I've had passengers before," he said, trying to figure out what sort of vantage point he had here. So far, not much. When Qilby flexed his fingers, he would feel the tension and strength of the claws. "But this is pushing it."

Perhaps half a dozen yards away in the dark passage, something let out a low, guttural growl. All the speculation and curiosity about resonation got shoved to the back burner.

"Claws ought to be sharp enough to do damage," he said hurriedly. "Otherwise try crushing it."

Resonation wasn't bad, per se, just... Foreign, uncomfortable. He'd spent the last ten thousand years alone, in a solitude more absolute than anyone could imagine, and had apparently forgotten what it felt like to be so close and connected to another being. That was a bond he only shared with his sister and she was Goddess-knows how far away now, her presence completely gone from his head (if not his heart.)

Qilby would never be able to regard Barricade as close as he did her, but he sure could tolerate him for the sake of a little power. And there certainly was at least a bit of that in the robot's Weapon form-- he could feel it like a coiled spring when he moved his fingers. A claw, then. It felt more machine than weapon, and fighting at close range was definitely not his strongest suit, but the Eliatrope was nothing if not adaptable.

"I'm a fast learner," he reassured his companion out loud. He was more comfortable now. Not completely sure of himself, because he had no idea what he was capable of with this Weapon, but gone were his nervous looks, replaced with a keen, calculating look. Qilby had this claw, sure, but his intelligence had always been the superior of his weapons.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't believe in the advantage of surprise." Or it didn't need it. He tensed, ready to defend from an initial attack from whatever was lurking in the dark.

It was more than a little weird being connected to someone without a tangible means of monitoring it - no cables, no diagnostics or vitals to read and track. This was a lot more personal, and even worse, he had to depend entirely on Qilby to be able to fight. It'd be just his luck the old man would have been bluffing about his skills when it came to combat of any sort. At the very least he could pick up on the Meister's confidence in his own abilities, which was promising enough.

Most Kishin Eggs didn't operate under the guise of stealth, and this one was no exception. There was no telling how long it had lived in this cave, but it was certainly enough time for it to lose all resemblance to the human it had once been. It pulled itself along on two powerful front legs, with claws like daggers sinking into the dirt. Barricade had seen plenty of freaky organic aliens in his lifetime, but this one looked like some mutant cross between a snake, a skink, and a pincushion. The smooth scales that covered its body erupted in spines around its joints and all down its back, all of them shock white except where they'd been stained with the blue fungus.

"Why would it? Not like it has any natural predators down here," he finally replied. He watched the Kishin lumber up to a stop, tilting its head as it regarded them with hungry interest. A long, forked blue tongue took a lazy taste of the air between them, and that was apparently all it needed to confirm it wanted to kill them.

It moved faster than something its size should, powering forward on those strong legs and closing the last few yards between them. Opening its jaws, the Kishin roared, lunging to take a chunk out of Qilby.

He didn't have to consult one of his beloved books to know that this was no natural Earth animal-- this was obviously a kishin egg. So that was what would happen to him if he chose to devour a human soul? Qilby was glad he wasn't so easily swayed by temptation, even if it was such an easy route to power.

"It's hard to believe this thing was once human," he murmured, almost reverently. What sort of corruption could induce such a change in someone? Not even the Stasis on his universe could so thoroughly mutate a creature like this. If only he had the chance to study this further, like the Witches so obviously were! There was just enough time for him to lament the fact that he'd been forced to join the wrong side of this war before the thing attacked. Time to focus.

The beast was faster than it looked, but so was Qilby-- the act of resonation, even as tenuous as the link was, filled him with an energy he hadn't known in millennia. He felt stronger, faster already, and he hadn't even had a chance to attack yet. Leaping nimbly to its side as its lunge carried it past him, he both avoided the bite and raked Barricade's claws down the side of its neck. But however razor-sharp as the blades were, they found little purchase on the kishin egg's tough scales.

The passageways were narrow. Perhaps if he could find its way to its back, he'd be able to avoid its front end long enough to find a good weak spot.

Human or not, Barricade tried to imagine what eating its soul would be like, which was far more interesting to him than any mutation. Consuming the soul of a defeated enemy to gain strength sounded far more satisfying than ripping out their spark. It went beyond psychological victory, but it was a pity he was confined to the souls of corrupted Kishin Eggs. Anything else, and he would wind up like that thing - or worse.

"I don't care if it used to be a rock, just kill the damn thing." Apparently it was more difficult taking the back seat in a fight than he'd thought. If he couldn't fight, then he'd run away, but now he was trapped somewhere halfway between. He felt himself connect with the scaly hide, though the sensation was oddly detached, muted by whatever ~~magic~~ science made him what he was. It was almost like he was in a deep recharge cycle, except awake at the same time.

The Kishin grunted and snapped its jaws at missing its meal, barely reacting to Qilby's strike. It twisted around to keep him in sight, spine twisting at an ugly angle to haul itself around for another go. Not a single bone or vertebrae popped as it made the turn, its freakish flexibility putting it right back on the warpath. This time it kept its nose to the ground, rushing forward to take out the Meister's legs.

"And here I was, planning on having a nice chat with it," he drawled back. Didn't need to tell him twice that this monster needed to die. Maybe there'd be enough of it leftover for him to inspect once they were through with it. "Oh--"

The thing was flexible, he'd grant it that-- his brows raised in surprise as it contorted easily, matching his movements, and he had just enough time to prepare for its imminent attack. With a simple hand motion, Qilby brought all four of Barricade's curved talons to as much of a point as he could get it, leaving him with something almost like a spearhead. At the moment, slashing and cutting weren't options on that thick hide... But piercing might be.

The Meister stood his ground, driving the point of all four claws downward, trusting-- hoping that he was quick enough to pin it to the ground before its jaws reached his legs. He'd already lost one limb; he wasn't exactly eager to miss any more of them.

Well, at least they were both feeling like themselves again if they could take the time to snipe at one another. Almost back on solid ground. After that last quip he kept his mouth shut - Qilby losing limbs meant he was going to start losing limbs, too. Somehow, he didn't think they'd reattach as easily here as they did back home.

The Kishin hadn't survived this long on brute strength alone, spotting the Meister's posture for it what it was. It managed to snake its head out of the path of the attack, but the rest of it wasn't in the clear. Despite the odd detachment, Barricade still felt the warm, wet splash of blood as the attach pierced the soft skin between the shoulder and the leg. The monster let out an angry yelp, pulling back as blood gushed down its leg. It only put a few paces between them before angrily smacking its tail against the passage wall, sending chunks of fungus flying through the air.

Flicking its tongue out into the air again, it started pawing at the soft dirt with its uninjured arm, like it was getting ready for a charge. Maybe it had only been playing with its food before, but now it had puffed itself up, spikes bristling to the point it practically filled the entire passageway. Without much fanfare, it lunged for them again, mouth wide open this time.

"I hope it chokes on us," Barricade said. That'd count as a victory, right?

Slippery little thing, wasn't it? Even if his attack didn't quite find its intended target, the way the creature's softer bits yielded beneath his Weapon's claws was equally satisfying. He wasn't even as upset at the way its blood stained his long, billowing white sleeve as he'd normally have been.

Qilby didn't press the attack, instead taking the time to put as much distance between them as his enemy seemed to be trying to do. There was the distinct sense that he was being sized up, and found more difficult prey than this predator had imagined he'd be. This surely wasn't all that the kishin egg had to offer, and he wasn't about to charge headlong into a fight not knowing what it was really capable of. He had a mind, and the memory of what happened when he lost it was still painfully fresh in his memory... So he was going to use it.

"Oh ye of little faith," he replied out of the corner of his mouth. But his growing confidence hit its first wall when the beast swelled up like a moth flashing its wings to scare off its attacker-- and if intimidation was its intent, it was doing a decent job at it.

No room to sidestep this one. Qilby retreated swiftly, claw held out before him defensively, trying to buy himself some time; he knew from centuries of experience that when a brute thought it had its victim on the run, it made stupid mistakes. And when it did, he'd be there to capitalise on them.

The only thing Barricade had absolute faith in was himself, and his ability to survive. Really, he just hoped the Kishin choked on Qilby, and that the Meister didn't get the wise idea to just throw him into its open mouth. Hopefully Qilby knew that only a resonating pair could take out a Kishin, and he couldn't run that far before the damn thing caught him.

About a thousand different possibilities for how to attack the beast ran through his processor, but all of them included him fighting it by himself. He wasn't very good at this whole teamwork thing, let alone instructing someone else what to do. Trying to figure out what to tell a tiny old man what to do when a monstrous beast was coming to eat them was harder than it sounded.

"We're running out of ground here, old man," he said. The passage twisted off into a blind turn, and that usually meant more trouble was around the curve.

The Kishin barreled ahead, snapping its as its prey stayed just out of range. The smell of their souls was still a weak snack, but a snack that bit back certainly wouldn't stand. It thundered down the passage hard enough to shake dirt loose from the ceiling, spikes scraping off mushrooms and scattering phosphorescent blue all over the place. There was no such luck of it being allergic to the stuff, but it was forced to close its maw and shake its head to keep its eyes clear. That didn't slow its charge by much, but had lost some of its momentum.

"Just be patient--"

Fighting at close range clearly wasn't Qilby's strongest suit; he preferred instead to keep his distance, striking through his portals from a position where his enemy wasn't likely to be able to hit him back. Wasn't much he could do about that without said portals, so he was learning, adapting as best he could. But for all the other abilities he'd lost, he certainly hadn't lost his sense of opportunism... And it was between dodges carefully keeping him just out of reach of those teeth, and Barricade's unhelpful narration, that he saw his opportunity. "--there!"

Qilby sucked in a deep breath and held it. He didn't like the way the thing was dusting the entire tunnel in those mushroom spores; who knew how toxic they were? Looked like the kishin egg needed some help closing his mouth too, and he was far too courteous to resist a chance to help out a murderous beast in need. Seizing the window of opportunity, the Meister stopped retreating and attacked, talons darting forward to try and clamp down firmly over the monster's jaws while they were shut.

Barricade could be as patient as he wanted when he needed to, but now was not one of those times. Maybe if he had some control of the situation, without being forced to watch and wait.

There was more than enough strength in Barricade to keep the monster's mouth shut, and it clearly did not expect that. Food was supposed to run and scream, not retaliate. It stopped its charge, growling deep in its throat as the talons started to sink into the softer scales around its mouth. Now this was more like it, Barricade thought, and the switchover from doubt to more solid confidence in Qilby would give the Meister another nice boost of strength.

The Kishin jerked its head, intending to simply shake off the old man by tossing him against the wall. The combined strength of the Meister and the Weapon made its efforts nearly useless, as it could barely turn its head as Qilby held fast. It started pawing at the dirt again, its spine bunching up at those awful angles to try and force an escape.

"Crush it," Barricade hissed, his tone low and dangerous. Watching his enemies crumple was one of his favorite parts of combat, no argument there.

Even if it wasn't readily apparent in Barricade's tone, Qilby could sense a shift in his demeanor-- now that the tides had turned, the robot mercifully wasn't moping anymore. He wasn't sure if it was his partner's new confidence or that always-pleasant vindicated feeling he got from it that kept his arm strong and his feet planted firmly on the ground even in damp, soft silt... But honestly, he didn't care. It was simply good not to feel helpless again.

"As you wish," he conceded. Best not to keep the violent metal claw waiting. Expecting a lot more thrashing around from the kishin egg in a second or two, Qilby furrowed his brow, dug his heels deeper and bared his teeth in what might've been a grin. Then, he squeezed, like he was crumpling a piece of paper-- the bone and cartilage bent and creaked sickeningly beneath his Weapon's fingers, but there was yet more unexpended power in his grip.

He could just try to end it quickly, but it was far more interesting to see how much the creature's bones could take before giving in.

Teamwork wasn't so bad when the other half actually did what he said - or wanted them to do. At least Qilby didn't seem too resigned to it, but a mutual agreement on how to kill the thing did wonders for resonation. Barricade felt like less of a spectator now, taking an active role in injuring the beast even if it was by Qilby's movements.

Under that kind of pressure, the bones didn't last long. The Kishin jerked and thrashed its body, tail slamming against one wall and then the other, trying and failing to get loose. While the rest of its body writhed, its head was immobile, held impossibly in place by the claw and the Meister wielding it. Half mad with pain, it lifted one leg to take a swipe at Qilby, and at that point the bones splintered completely.

The best response Barricade was capable of was laughing, which was even less pleasant to hear than his smile was to look at. The talons went clean through its jaw, the pulverized mess pouring out of its jaw in a flow of gums and teeth and blood. That gave it the freedom to pull back, though it squandered whatever opportunity it had by slamming its head against the cavern wall. How that was supposed to alleviate the pain, Barricade didn't know, but watched it take aim at the other wall and repeat the motion with morbid interest. Kind of reminded him of Starscream after Megatron was through with him.

Barricade's laughter was only a slight improvement over his moaning and groaning, but at least he was pleased. Not that Qilby really cared if the machine was happy-- it just made it easier for him when he was. Anything to grease the wheels, so to speak.

His lip curled distastefully at the gore and he stepped back from the flailing beast so that it didn't get any more on his clothes than it had to, even if they were unsalvageable at this point. As long as it didn't get near his hat, he was good; he had to resist the urge to adjust it with the bloodied claws, even though it was threatening to slip off his head entirely after everything it'd been through.

"Glad you enjoyed it," he said conversationally, as if he was talking about the weather. "Not exactly the cleanest kill, I must say..."

The kishin egg wasn't dead, per se... But there was certainly no way it'd survive in this condition if left to its own devices. Qilby generally disliked violence (mostly when it was against him) and wielding such a brutal weapon was-- discomfiting, to say the least. Not to mention that a creature with a crushed skull left little for him to examine once it perished. He'd always preferred his kills cleaner than that.

"... You'll be wanting your soul, I suppose. We should finish it off." It wasn't like he needed to ask for permission to end the thing, certainly not after the enthusiasm Barricade had shown, but he was starting to think it was as much the Weapon's decision as his own. Go figure.

Barricade went well out of his way to make himself as unlikable as possible. That way he didn't always have to rely on his claws to get himself out of a mess, especially if he knew fighting wouldn't get him anywhere. As far as he was concerned, Qilby could call him a whiny little hatchling and he'd be happy about it.

"It's never clean at this range," he said. He was never much for sniper rifles or anything like that anyways. All you had to do was stay clear of the enemy target until you were close enough to kill it. Easy as that. While the Meister certainly had some fight in him, it obviously wasn't Barricade's style.

By now the Kishin had stunned itself nearly senseless, swaying back and forth on its feet like it was nothing more than a blade of grass on a windy day. With one last pained whimper, it slumped to the ground, rolling to one side. It looked as if was going to try and slide away from them by pushing its front claws out, but it was so addled the coordination was all wrong.

"What are you waiting for, an invitation?" Put the damn thing out of its misery so he could eat its soul already. Watching it die was just wasting time. "You're not going to get a better shot at it than right now."

Qilby didn't like death. Encountering it always forced him to ruminate on his own mortality-- or lack thereof. Where others saw it as an ending or (in the case of his siblings) another new beginning, it was nothing more than another brief, fleeting inconvenience in a road that's run flat and unchanging for millions of years. On the other hand, that detachment made it somewhat easier for him to justify it as something that was just done for the greater good. A single animal dead and preserved so that its genes could live on, a species wiped out so that a world could flourish.

If killing this thing would put him back on the path he'd carved out for himself (and, by proxy, his people) then he'd do it. He'd kill everyone on this damned world if he had to, and even throw his so-called allies in for good measure.

So, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath, Qilby acquiesced, walking forward and rolling the fallen kishin egg onto its back with one foot. There was no risk of retaliation from the beast; it was too far gone to strike back even on reflex. With its softer neck and underbelly exposed, it had little to protect itself from a killing blow, which the Eliatrope promptly seized-- staggering Barricade's claws around its throat and squeezing quickly, easily snapping the vertebrae between his fingers.

No sense in getting even more blood all over himself. People'd ask questions.

The muttering didn't go unnoticed, but Barricade didn't ask him about it. Qilby's personality was just as abrasive as his own, so it was little wonder why they got along so famously.

The Kishin offered no resistance whatsoever, dying without so much as another pitiful whine. Its limbs quivered before stilling, and its entire body went limp, tongue lolling out past its shattered jaw. That was the drawback of consuming innocent souls and succumbing to Madness, he supposed. Turn into a monster, live in a cave, go crazy, get your neck snapped an old man. It kind of curbed his desire to see what would happen if he ate just one human soul.

Not long after the thing expired, the red soul appeared, waiting to be devoured. At that point Barricade transformed back to his root mode, the hydraulics in the claw hissing as they released from Qilby's hand. Why it so much easier transforming one way than the other, Barricade didn't know, but he'd be working on it. Without Qilby around to cry about it. The passageway lit up bright as day as his headlights returned, before he dimmed them and focused the beams on the kishin soul.

"That's it?" He bent over, tilting his head at the little thing that had caused so much trouble.

The shift was surprising, but not unexpected. Qilby figured the robot would be eager to get the soul in his gullet as soon as possible and -- he thought while looking at his now-bare hand, turning it over in the light -- he couldn't blame him, after they went through all that trouble. It was almost funny. He'd found it so easy to criticize Demona for not keeping the spoils of her missions with her partner, but now he was finding it hard to justify stealing them from his own. Even if the partner in question was kind of an ass.

Then again, she didn't have to deal with a sixteen foot-tall mass of metal and claws -- he'd have the harder time of fighting his own partner for the soul, the robot's pigheadedness aside. Never mind. There'd be plenty more opportunities later on for him to get his hands on a soul to study.

"You know what they say about big things coming in small packages," he said, watching Barricade inspect the thing from a distance. There was some respect in his tone. Already the air was starting to feel clearer, and Qilby knew it wasn't just because the two of them had finally prevailed. The beast had obviously been a source of Madness -- though he could still feel the insistent presence from the emitter in the back of his skull, the Madness was nowhere near as intoxicating as it was a few moments ago while they were right next to this thing. Now he felt more in control now (both of himself and the situation) but he'd never experienced weakness quite like that before. It was infuriating, but... He couldn't say it wasn't impressive.

"Take your reward, then," he added somewhat gruffly. Before I change my mind, was the unspoken, but somewhat-implied ending of that sentence.

Barricade simply grunted in response to the commentary concerning the soul, pausing a moment before just scooping it up in one hand. He rolled it between his talons - kind of airy, not really substantial. Weird. Again, he had that moment of dreadful curiosity if this is what he'd see if he opened the armor of his chest, to see if the spark remained or not. He wasn't ready for that just yet, and definitely not here. The Madness might have abated, but he didn't need anything else to push him in the wrong direction.

Pinching the tapered end of the soul delicately between two talons, he lifted it up to his face. It was Qilby's tone that made him pause again, shooting the old man a careful, suspicious look. Take your reward, he said. Was he missing something here? The Meister couldn't do anything with the soul, aside from feed it to his Weapon to make it stronger. He thought of Qilby taking samples of the fungus, of Demona's promise for the three of them to speak - and knew he was still in the dark here. However long those two had been working together, they had a more cohesive plan he wasn't privy to yet. Fine. He'd get it out of them eventually, before they tried to take advantage of him.

Instead of arguing the point, Barricade tipped back his head and opened his mouth. He dropped the soul between his jagged teeth, black tongue curling around the orb and sucking it down easily. The glass door wings over his shoulders shuddered as he swallowed, armor rippling at the bizarre sensation. Oral consumption wasn't the most efficient, and his systems couldn't track something as intangible as a soul. Even if it had been there a moment ago, it was gone now, and he hardly felt any better for it. Maybe after 98 more Kishin souls and Witches' soul, but one was apparently a drop in the ocean.

"Not very appetizing," he decided.

"It couldn't be," Qilby pointed out drily. "Otherwise everyone would be killing each other for a taste."

That was it, then. All that work and little to show for it save for, perhaps, a little smidgen of trust from the Cybertronian. Friendliness would be pushing it, and loyalty-- well, he held no loyalty to those outside of his race, and he couldn't quite fathom a reason for anyone else to be any different. Not if they were halfway intelligent beings, and from the suspicious look he got, he could tell Barricade fell squarely into that category.

After all that action, and all it'd been through, his hat was beginning to slip off his head again; he tugged at its front irritably, grimacing when his bloodied sleeve brushed against his face.

"I admit, I've never made a habit of fighting that... Up close and personal." So, what he was trying to say was that it wit went a lot better than it might've. His eyes followed Barricade's illuminating beams of light to the defeated kishin egg, trailing over its spines, its claws, its sharper bits, everything he had the pleasure of not seeing firsthand. If he hadn't kept himself so limber, things might've gone quite differently. He hoped the machine appreciated that.

[OPEN] Mission 155

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