World In Turmoil

24: Fallen Before

Gersanto.
To it's south. Across a wide scorched field of ash crops.
Up a terraced hill, to the very top. Where the bare stone foundation of a burnt old home sat dejected, crumbling.

To it's right, a kelcekrete projection from the ground, marked The Basements entrance.

Dark, dry, and musty, The Basement was an old and odd affair.

A merger of old and new architecture, it's contrasting build styles boggled the mind. Thought bending combinations of arch, and column, spiral and curve. Evidence of the two parents, trying their hand at collaboration.

Strange that so much work would go into a mere basement, but. Regardless.

It was a glorious mess.
Much like Ren.

Whom's still form lay at the base of the stairs. Face planted squarely into the floor. Faintly breathing. The pure blackness of the basement around him. Only a small shaft of moon light shone through the open door far above him. The beam going no further than the young man's shoulders.

He felt himself gasp at consciousness in the dark deep waters of his absent mind, his primal thoughts screaming and kicking him awake. As if emerging from a deep pool, his hands and arms lashed out as he jolted back to consciousness. Terrifyingly aware of his situation.

His head ached.
The throbbing, pounding rhythm of a band performing a musical in his cranium.
He lay there, feeling the slow wet cloth wipe over him, his cheeks wet from the moisture that coalesced...

Wait.
Ren paused his thoughts, his entire mind froze.

Cloth?
What am I thinking...

He tried to shake off the bizzare feeling along his forehead.
But all that did was cause a slight whining sound to start poking at his eardrums.

A... whine?

Wait...

Oney...

He felt his muscles relax, and his whole body release every pent up knot.
With a firm sigh, he began to laugh faintly. A sad and relieved laugh.

Ren tried desperately to roll onto his side, but a sharp pang in his leg reminded him of his predicament. He settled instead for reaching a lone hand out into the darkness of the basement. Reaching for a tuft of fur.

It hit its mark, a warm soft coat greeted his fingers with a long awaited woof. Soft and scared, but relieved. Oney scampered up to Ren and pressed his nose into Ren's ear.
He laughed, and gently pushed the dog back a few centimetres.

Then, Ren, again made an effort to roll himself over, and was once again stopped midway by the never ending sting of that charred chunk of flesh.

He would live. But he needed medical attention soon...

Still lying on his front, just as he had fallen, he made the determined decision to try and get up to one knee at least. Then he would have a foothold in gravity's little battleground.

He pushed his arms under his stomach, and pushed against the cold icy floor. Levering up his torso, allowing him to pull his one good leg in under his body.
From there, an attempt was made to balance himself on this good knee, as he slowly pushed the rest of his form up off the floor.

He gave a soft laugh in minor triumph as he set his full weight upon the good leg.
From there.
Well.

The darkness wasn't very directing, to say the least.
Oney once again pushed himself into Ren's side. Absolutely terrified still.
Thankfully the sudden collision didn't knock him over. He instead grabbed hold of the biggish dog round the chest, and used him to pull himself up to one foot.

Ren stood there. A little lost. And very unsure.
He knew the cabinet of Random Supplies was somewhere in the back right corner of the Basement...
But. He'd have to make it past the innumerable broken down machines his father often spent his time on. In the dark. And naturally, after a planetary calamity electricity wasn't in great supply.

His thoughts wafted around in his mind for a time, until eventually he gathered enough strength to take that first step. Shifting his weight over onto his burned leg, and cringing to the crunchy pain, he gulped a breath and extended his good leg out into the darkness.

Don't hit something, don't hit something, don't hit something please!

The idea of having one of his father's machines come crumbling down on top of him wasn't a particularly fetching idea...

Soft carpet greeted him. The air in his lungs rushed out in celebration. He looked down in the darkness toward where he felt the scruffy excuse of a mutt standing and panting softly.

"Now. A dozen or so more to go hey, Oney."

A lengthy selection of unwanted, but necissary step later, he arrived at a wall. Felt along it's length, and met a wall mounted cabinet. His fingers felt for the cold metalic latch, and pulled it open, swinging himself and the little lid open like a dance between a patient and his medicine cabinet.

He felt inside for a syringe. A syringe that he was always told to take, if things became... war like.

The boxes of cold paper and hard-carbon greeted his tired fingers as they searched the dark box.
His fingers struck a cold glass material, and surged over it. Gripping, and pulling.

A click, confirmed that something beyond his father's words had been activated.

A red light over him burst into show. And against the wall, the large OL-JAX farming exosuit burst to life. It's lights beaming across the room.

With this new found light, he examined the syringe he had pulled from the cabinet. His fingers unscrewed it's lid, and his nose sniffed the contents.

Water.

Very clever, Dad.

...it was water right? His father hadn't actually attached a trigger system to a vile of normal medication had he?... well. He might as well.

Ren rose the liquid, - whatever it was - to his lips, and took a long drink of pure, clean water.
He breathed a sigh... and used some of it to wash his hands off before placing it in what remained of one of his pockets and taking a bandage from the cabinet.

He covered his charred leg in cream and bandaging agent, then bound it up best he could.
The soft red light over him, and the OL-JAX's lights gave him ample clearance.

As he sat, and thought. The world outside was brought back to his memory. There, as white fabric was wound round his leg. In the still darkness of the basement, the whole world seemed to slow. Time, taking a little break from its duties.

Peaceful.

Oney pawed at Ren's good leg, looking for some reassurance.
He couldn't give much.

Quietly, Ren stopped. And breathed. Thought.

That mist... Was not mist. That was evident.
It was...

Agh...

Ren was no engineer, but he did have a mental list of technologies that could be responsible for what he saw.

ACRs. Autonomous Construction Robots.
And that spire would have to be their Co-ordination centre.

Or... everything was just... evaporating into a purple mist on it's own accord.
That idea terrified Ren for entirely existential reasons. But he threw them aside.

ACRS...

Half-centimetre wide machines that are able to disassemble and build. Not quickly, but at scale they were incredibly capable, though reliant on a central power supply and a guidance beacon to they didn't end up pulling each other apart, and getting trapped in segments of whatever they were building. Useful for starship and structure manufacturing...

That spire would have to be exerting a large magnetic resonance field to let the little things fly that well... at least that would mean they couldn't leave the city area... maybe.

He'd have to see for himself again. Now that he was slightly rejuvenated.

At that, Ren strode towards the OL.JACK. He had a half thought plan. But. Maybe it would be enough.