Karmas bitter but so am I (S.A.M.S.)

Chapter 1 - Bad Words Aren't Always Curses

(Narrators POV)

Eclipse never expected to open his eyes again. The moment he heard Sun apologize, he knew that it was over. He wasn't afraid of death, or of failure, or of anything that his conclusion may or may not have proved. It was simply that: the end of his story, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

Until he was staring blearily at the side of a tree, trying to make sense of why his vision is doing somersaults. It shouldn't be able to do that.

Then, the pain. Absolute agony flowing throughout his body, making him tremble against the cold, damp grass. It was funny when it was Moon suffering. It was hilarious, even. Finally able to keep him cornered while Eclipse follows through with his own plans.

But then Lunar turned on him, the little wretch, and tattled all his misgivings to dear old Moon, setting him free in the process. It didn't take Eclipse long to figure out what happened to the pest he used to call a brother, as the differences in personality were rather obvious after only a day or two. Lunar gave in, blinded by all his illogical morals and naïve, childish dreams.

He'd called him afraid of Moon. Lunar had accused Eclipse of being afraid . Never in his life has he been afraid . Even faced with the promise of death, he felt nothing but...

Exhaustion. Defeat. Sullen humiliation.

The animatronic lets out a bitter snarl at the lies cast into his conscience. He never felt such things! Crude emotions, fit for someone who truly lost!

But the pain grows ever-worse, his vision tilts ever further, and he wonders if this is just the punishment he gets for ending up so vulnerable- a slow, painful demise of which he is forced to wait out until the end.

His limbs twitch every once in a while, the wires severed, making his movements uncontrolled. Equal to nerve damage, and just as agonizing. The longer he lays there, the worse everything gets.

The dampness that he noticed tainting the grass earlier turns out to be his own oil spreading out beneath him, dousing him in endless black despair. He feels his systems start to shutdown, prioritizing more vital components, but it's futile by now.

As he feebly manages to lift his head, wrenching up yet more oil onto the grass before him, everything suddenly goes dark. The last thing he feels is his head hit the ground, then...nothing.

*•*•*•*•*•*

He had hoped he wouldn't wake back up after that. The absence of pain was nice, floating in errored code as his physical body deteriorates. But the universe has its grip on him, and, with his own recent threats of rewriting it...said universe seems rather peeved.

He goes in and out of consciousness for hours at a time, the transition from day to night not even processing by the time that he can catch hold of even the slightest bit of coherence. Once he has, he doesn't know what to do. The pain has become unbearable at this point, breaking any thoughts that he manages to piece together.

Everything sets in, and then it's all too much. His chest tightens, the pain dulls, but he becomes ever-warmer the more he lets his self-control slip away. Clouded thoughts reach out, trying to grasp each other, but it's all so fuzzy and he's so helpless and he can't think, he needs to think, thinking is all he's good for-

He can't move to curl in on himself, to shield his twisted expression from the outside world. He can't move . Echoes, all around him, screams and cries of voices he can't make out, can't understand, speaking a language he should know but doesn't . Taunting him with sharp tones, as if cocooning him in all he cannot do, reminding him that he is only here because of himself.