The Break of Dawn

(Just as a bit of a A/N, if you don't mind. This is a story based off of a story by Netloid CF called Nightwatch, just in a different timeline that's currently under my care in Project Genesis, the same one as The Pendulum Swings, Proto(E)scape, etc, and has been allowed to be posted as official material with his permission. No one pulling the fire alarm, please, this is legal, and I hope to do my best at portraying my own version of his story. By the way, you should probably check out the real version of this on Wattpad, and the rest of the stories in Project Genesis, at least in my opinion, they're worth looking into. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The night seemed destined to be nothing but rain, the constant downpour pelting the concrete sidewalks and street lamps ceaselessly as two sprinted to the only safety in sight, an awning on the side of a tall glass building marked clearly by a neon sign "L.O.F.E." They both moved quickly to the door and rushed inside, the nightguard on duty looking up from his day old newspaper, his name-tag reading Charles, having read the comics four times already, seeing the hooded pair, both soaked through, listening as they chittered to themselves. His name-tag read Charles underneath a black smudge that obscured his last name thoroughly.
"Hell of a time for it to rain. Sorry about that, Monica." "Oh, its alright. Your dad said we could have the ground tour, so its worth it in my mind. He always has towels in the lab anyway, remember?"
"So he SAYS, but do you want to know where they've been and still rub them all over you?"
"Yeah... maybe not. Ok, you're right, this sucks." Both of them giggled as they walked to the reception desk, pulling their dark colored hoodies down, the first revealing stark white hair and purple eyes, the hair just long enough to start encroaching on the angular face below, clearly male. The second, slightly shorter girl disentangled her long brown pigtails from the back of her hoodie, stopping short of squeezing the water out in the process. She smiled at the guard, freckled cheeks bending upward to hide her blue eyes.
"I.D., maybe, kids? I'd prefer not to get fired here." The guard said lazily.
"Yeah, here ya go." The white haired one held up a slab of plastic with his face and credentials on it, showing it to the guard. "Mathew Marshalls, same as every other time. Monica needs a guest pass though, she's a noob here."
"Hey! I'm no noob!"
"Just... calm down kids, alright. I'll get her punched in, Mathew, and send her in, you go ahead. Your dad told me you were coming. He's been cooking in there again, so put on a gas mask, for god sake."
"Thanks for the heads up, captain." Mathew threw a fake salute to the guard. "I'll see you in there, Monica!" He headed off behind the desk, shoes squeaking on the clean tile thanks to the rain as the guard started on the pass for Monica, trying to hurry along so he could get back to his extremely boring paper, somehow much more pleasant now thanks to the respective volume level involved.
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Mathew moved quickly down the hallways and corridors, looking for a door with the lights on, specifically one with a sign that read "A7 - Marshalls" next to it in blocky text. He slid to a stop, finding his target, and stuck his head inside, looking for his father in the albeit dim lighting.

"Dad? You here, or you in the can?" No response for the moment. "Can it is then, I guess." Mathew moved further inside, noting the bare tables at the front of the lab, hiding the true experiments in the rear, signified by the lightning, he assumed. Moving forward, he finally heard the squeaking footsteps of his compatriot coming up to the door and coming in to join him.
"That was fast. Sprint all the way here?" "Nope. I just followed the sound you made while it echoed around." Monica laughed to herself as they both moved forward, something suddenly clicking beneath their feet as soon as the started. The lights when out all at once, plunging the room into near impenetrable darkness. Even the light from the hall had gone missing as they looked around, slightly concerned.
"Alright dad... very funny and all, but we're technically supposed to be guests and all. I'll have to deduct points from your Yelp review at this point."
"What he said!"
"Very original, Monica, I give it five stars, would ignore again." They both fell silent, hearing glassware shift to their right, turning to it, before a comically terribly roar came from their left, catching both off guard simultaneously, Monica falling to the floor in the puddle that had collected from her clothing shedding moisture as they stood, while Mathew managed to catch the assailant square in the jaw with a might right, even as he screamed in terror.
The white sheet clad individual fell to the floor with a thump, groaning in pain and somehow laughing at the same time. A gruff voice followed steadily as the one hidden beneath the fabric availed himself of it. "That's a nasty right hook... geez, Mathew. Augh."
"That's what you get for scaring us. Fair enough, dad?" Mathew held out his hand to his father, helping him up after the sheet had been dislodged.
"Alright, I guess I can't argue with that... too much. That still hurt though."
"Not as much as my pride got bruised from screaming like a pansy. Take the truce while you have the option, old man."
"okay, okay, I get it." The scruffy looking man laughed to himself as he scratched his unkempt hair slightly, beard showing and eyebrows threatening to stretch his forehead low enough to eclipse his discerning, emerald eyes. "Care for the tour then? That's what I promised... Monica, you okay? Lemme help you up." He reached to Monica, who accepted quickly, grasping his hand tightly before a loud buzzing could be heard, causing the man to dance uncontrollably in place as he held her hand, almost singing as electricity coursed through his hand. Once the scraggly haired man nearly collapsed on the floor, Monica rose with a wicked smile, holding her hand open to Mathew, showing off two wire contacts, which she removed before high-fiving Mathew. "I came prepared this time, Professor." Monica giggled while standing up, Mathew's father rising as well, speaking at a higher tone than before as he shook his hand to relieve the residual tingle.
"I never catch a... break. You two are both blunt and sharp at the same time."
"Thanks, Professor." "Your welcome. Now, to what we were doing... Welcome... To my sanctuary!" Mathew's father struck a heroic pose, referencing the room around them, machines of all kinds lining the walls and peeking from the cabinets, the empty tables from around the doors merely decoys to dissuade onlookers. "Now where shall we begin? Perhaps my newest creation?"
"You mean newest possible breakthrough that will most likely turn out to be a great way to make massive amounts of popcorn from an insane distance?"
"Hey, that only happened ONCE! Harsh, son, that hurts."
"Again, pride. Don't break the truce."
"I... alright then. Let's just get to this before I get humiliated FURTHER." Monica simply giggled to herself as they proceeded down the length of the room.
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"Alright, so, we have all kinds of gewgaws in here, but don't worry, with the way L.O.F.E. works, you won't get arrested just because you're in here. I already had you both sign the paperwork, so you're technically lab assistants." The doctor smile, his slightly unkempt hair jiggling as he did. "Although I have a feeling you won't want to save the best for last, so let's start at the very end!" He broke into a run, heading down the length of the room, leaving behind Monica and Mathew for just a moment before they realized what was happening. "Welcome... to the TWENTY FIFTH CENTURY!!!" The doctor struck a pose that resembled something like awkward yoga, referencing a large white sheet at the at the very back of the room. He was greeted by stunned silence, left to stand in an awkward pose for a time. "It's only the twenty third century, Mister Marshalls." Monica spoke up, hardly able to contain her laughter as the doctor swayed in place., pigtails swaying in the process, Mathew next to her, simply holding an awkward smile. "Wow, you two really are dream killers, yknow that?" The doctor moved to the sheet and yanked it down, revealing a long tube made of metal and glass, probe like instruments reaching toward the conical inside slopes of the tube, small blue glass or crystal at the end of each.
"Oh wow, an examination table from the Roswell Incident."
"It's probably more like the universe's porta-jon. Looks like one of those fancy toilets that sprays water on you, don't you think, Monica?"
"Yeah, you're right." They both broke out into laughter again, even the doctor joining in, having expected plenty of ribbing from the start.
"I'm afraid you're both wrong. This.... is an antimatter reactor! It takes matter, catalyzes it into energy, and roots that energy back into society. You can even use it for recycling!"
"Yeahp. Totally a porta-jon, Mathew, you were right."
"Okay, okay, Monica. Nonetheless this is what I've been working on for the last few months, and you two will be the first to see it in operation... other than me of course."
"CAN I FLIP THE SWITCH!?" Mathew assumed a pose along the lines of an expectant cat, large eyes shining in the low light near the back of the room.
"Uh, sure. Here." Doctor Marhsalls handed Mathew a small rectangle of plastic and metal with a red button on the front, a ring of text around the plastic bulge that moved around it, simply stating 'DO NOT PRESS' in bold, yellow text.
"Alright, here we go." Mathew stood in front of the tube, pointing toward the center with the remote he had been given, assuming an authoritative stance, donning his best mad scientist smile. "This.... is tomorrow... TODAY!" He pressed the button with his thumb, a light in the end becoming bright for a moment, matching lights on the outside border of the cone becoming alive with electricity. "Now, THAT. is how you do a dramatic unveiling, pops." They all stood there for several moments, waiting for something, ANYTHING to happen.
"Helluva show, doc, Mathew, shoulda bought popcorn so it could be complete."
"Just hang on a second Monica, it needs to warm up. Think of it like an elderly couple on their anniver..."
"Ok, NOPE. Not thinking of that. NEVER. Nopenopenopenopenopenope." Monica cringed, her face scrunching up like a wrung out sponge. Mathew laughed under his breath, tendrils of light so dark they shined finally arcing from the spires, joining in the center to become a small sphere that grew as more connected to it, becoming a swirling vortex of purple and blue so dark it was nearly black.
"Okay, now that's cool, pops."
"Thought you'd think so." The doctor smiled as the two looked upon the cortex in awe, the light reflecting in their wide eyes.
"Man, it's so alluring, almost like a siren son...." Mathew was cut short as a fork of purple energy lanced out toward him, piercing his chest and running him through, disintegrating the floor and lab equipment behind him, the energy surging along his skin, before it suddenly stopped, a flash throwing him backwards into a vacant laboratory bench, the meager metal buckling under his weight. Mathew's vision faded slowly, the final picture echoing in his mind that of Monica staggering backwards as his father shielded her from another surge, piercing him in many places, turning his limbs to ash as he fell, Monica meeting the floor as well not long after him.
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"Pops...." Mathew mumbled, coming around from the incident, peeling himself off of the seemingly melted metal bench, barely able to keep his vision from swimming, each pulse of an intense pain in his neck causing it to swirl faster. After a few moments, he stumbled upon his father, gasping for air on the floor, holding a small remote in his teeth as if his life depended on it, blood oozing onto the floor from craters in his flesh.
"Mathew..." Professor Marshalls gasped before air, nearly forgetting to spit out the remote, speaking in a raspy, strained voice. "... that was a power surge. Not impossible, but should be nearly... so." He grunted in pain as everything began to register slowly. "The junction is in the storage closet, son. Shut it down fast, and clear out anything you find."
"So I'm the cops and this is a drug bust. Got it." Mathew shook his head, immediately regretting his actions as the pain intensified, causing him to stumble, nearly falling onto an unconscious Monica. He made it slowly to the fortified glass door marked "Storage - No Admittance" in yellow and red text. When he couldn't open it with the handle, he opted for punching the keycode number pad next to it, sparks flying free before the door opened with some protest. "Smug piece of crap." He stepped into the room slowly, spotting someone standing near the back, next to a set of levers and lights, several wires crossed between their respective receptacles, electricity arcing between them, making the outline of a person even more apparent against the white painted concrete, their black clothing doing nothing to air them.
"Hey. I know kung-jitsu you..."Mathew staggered for a moment, his balance fading again, the dark figure taking the opportunity to charge forward, a large sword in their hands, and ran Mathew through, stepping back as he reeled, expecting pain from the piercing blade. Instead of pain he merely... felt its presence, it was there. Mathew knew it, and that's all his brain wanted to tell him, so he grabbed the handle, and pulled. Tendrils of purple light spun outward from the blade of the sword as Mathew tugged, his attacker moving several steps backward in surprise as he popped it free from his gut, no signs of an injury present in the least.
"So this is what acid is like. Nice." Mathew swung the blade at his attacker, the sword lighting immediately with snakes of purple energy, cutting through the black clothed person like they were made of over softened butter, and continuing into the concrete below until he finally let go, the blade stopping as well. The black clothed figure stepped back several more times, a gaping gash having separated their left arm from their torso, and nearly rendered any connection from their top and bottom moot. Sparks issued forth instead of blood as Mathew expected, a loud clunk sounding as the figure dropped to the ground, red lights flashing faintly in their face, knees meeting the concrete as their head struck the floor itself, falling backward, unable to stay aloft due to the damage, a single large camera lens peering lifelessly into the air as it rolled away from the hood that once obscured it.
"Alright..... okay.... back to dad. Before I barf." Mathew moved slowly back to the main area, attempting to think as little as possible, each thought seeming like an enemy of his mind as the blood needed only caused more pain. He kneeled next to his father, lifting him slightly to tell him the good news. "Their gone pops. Dead. I'm calling a hospital now, alright?"
"It's... heh... a little too late for that, son." Professor Marshalls coughed violently, black soot issuing forth as he did so. "Y'see, one touch from that stuff... is fatal. Sorry, son. I'm as dead as a octogenarian's libido here." Mathew grimaced, blocking that thought from his mind.
"Then how am I still here. There must be a way to save you, right?"
"I always said you were... special... Son..." A sudden crackling noise accompanied the professor's weight becoming much less in Mathew's arms, his legs now separate from his body, ashen dust laying on the floor in its wake, layers of the same falling in succession over time to join its comrades on the floor, even the traces of his blood turning black and becoming nothing but ash.

"Like a spent cigar, I say goodnight." The grey-black color spread to the professor's neck, his head rolling to the floor as Mathew stared blankly in awe and shock, his father's head rolling slowly toward the benches several feet away before collapsing in a small explosion of soot. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but soon only knew darkness.
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Hey Matt
A voice echoed in Mathew's mind, decluttering the thoughts that rang against the inside of his skull every time he gave them the slightest regard, waking the screaming headache he had had since....
"Aw, crap... Monica..." Mathew's vision cleared slowly as he remembered what had transpired. He saw the machine his father had made striking him in the chest. He remembered waking on top of a couch made of metal, the room so cold he felt as if arctic fingers had wrapped around his ribcage to stop his breathing. He remembered the odd person in the room labeled 'storage... and pulling a sword from his torso after he had been run through by it. And finally, he saw his father's gracefully aged face roll free of his body, in his sons arms before bursting into so much powder. All of these realizations crashed down upon him at once, threatening to claim his soul and deposit it into darkness once more.
"MATHEW! Snap out of it!" Monica's voice split through the haze once more, bringing his vision into focus finally. He raised his head slowly, gaze coming up toward Maonica's face, worry creasing her brow deeply as her hand grasped his shoulder.
"He's... gone, Monica." Mathew looked down again do the dust that covered the floor, some of which Monica had gotten onto her jeans. "And he's all over your clothes."
"Wait.... what?" Monica did a very speedy double take, looking at the ground, and Mathew's sincere and distraught face. She came to a conclusion not long after, stumbling backward into one of the laboratories fixtures, causing the thin metal to sing from the impact. "Crap, I got dead person all over me." Monica stopped immediately.
"Oh, sorry Mathew. I wasn't thinking."
"That's alright. Nothing to be done unless you have a time machine, right?" Mathew Pushed his feeling aside for a moment, noticing the all too familiar feeling of rage building under the surface of the riotous sea that was his emotions. "For now, we need to see exactly what happened. Dad told me to look in storage before he... y'know...." He was silent for a moment. "There was some kind of robot person messing with the power, and I think that caused this mess. Care to spit on the corpse with me?" Mathew stood, offering a hand to Monica, who accepted, rising and following to the still open doorway, the blade Mathew had plunged into the concrete floor still resting in place, its latest victim resting as well, its legs still standing as its upper torso sat splayed out.
"Shit, that must've been sharp." Monica commented, moving toward the two objects, feeling the sword lightly, expecting it to remover her fingers with the slightest contact. However, it felt... oddly dull as she touched it, eventually yanking it out of the floor as Mathew moved around, careful not to disturb the shelves of supplies and parts, approaching the robotic person he had unceremoniously sliced into two during his stupor.
"So, what is this thing? It's got two words on the hilt, 'Sukāretto no ikari no ha/スカーレットの怒りの刃' and 'Garibaldi-3'. What the hell does that mean?" Mathew reached for the straight bladed weapon, Monica releasing it swiftly as light surged outward from it, purple flames dancing along the edges, all the way down to the flat, squared guard.
"It's not all that bad a name. 'The Blade of Burning Shadows', I think. It's been a long time since that particular elective. Garibaldi though.... Considering what this is, my guess would be that genius guy my dad used to be friends with. The one on the news lately, went missing and AntiSync Industries is wetting themselves over it." Mathew turned away from Monica and began to swing the sword slowly in loops, feeling its weight. He noticed a small green jewel in the bottom of the hilt begin to wax and wane in its intensity, the light emitting from it growing brighter as he pointed the tip toward the rear of the storage room. "Oh freaking hell. It's Skyward Sword all over again. Worthless damn dousing system has come back to haunt real life."
"Not to sound like a broken record, but... what?" Monica moved closer, her eyes tracking the green light as Mathew pointed to it.
"Oh. Well, follow it? And hope we don't die?"
"Not like that would matter now anyway. The police haven't showed up, so most likely no one knows this happened." Mathew sighed, putting the pieces together in his mind to provide a distraction. "Let's do this." Mathew moved through the winding rows of supplies, finally reaching the very end of the room, where larger supplies were stowed, like spare gas tanks, high amperage batteries, and sizeable copper coils, as well as many unknown substances and components neither could identify.
They inched forward, the light guiding them to a set of empty boxes as they neared a solid wall, which they toppled in an attempt to solve this conundrum. "Okay, bare concrete wall. Any ideas, Monica?"
"Yeah, I think so. There's a seam here, Mathew. Not as solid as you think." Monica moved forward and touched the wall gingerly, tracing the crack she found slowly, starting at the bottom and moving upwards. "There's no dust here, Matt. It's been moved, and recently."
"Alright, lemme see." Mathew moved toward the wall as well, the light on the sword he held still glowing spectacularly, even if the flames had faded from sight. "Ok, let's see..." Mathew ran his hand around the wall, stumbling back when a panel popped free, spinning around with a slight grinding sound, the outline of a hand clearly marked on the darkened grid by red lines, usurping the paths of their green brethren.
"Well, that's pretty conclusive." Mathew placed his hand on the pad, a light flashing for a moment, fading back into nothingness as a spinning light also joined the pad, protruding from the wall and spinning, emitting a meagre yellow light in a rotating motion. The wall however, did not change.
"Let me try, Matthew." Monica moved forward as Mathew removed his hand, the red outline moving to fit her more slender fingers. However, when the light moved to read her palm, it flashed red and withdrew, unsatisfied.
"Not qualified, eh Monica?" Mathew taunted lightly.
"Oh shut up. You probably just sweet talked your way into its life. I, however, will go the honest route." One more attempt rendered the same result, infuriating Monica slightly. She stamped her foot forcefully, dislodging a sheet of metal to her side, which in turn tipped one of the oxygen bottles next to it over, to land squarely on Monica's foot, the two foot tall gas canister having enough weight to nearly fracture her foot in several places as it hit home. "AAAAAH, FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAAAAAA!" Was all that came from Monica, hiding a small sound of electrical discharge, the hand scanner registering green now, a yellow light also opening on the other side of the supposed door. Monica stepped back, kneeling to comfort her foot, Mathew comforting her as well as she inhaled through clenched teeth. "Damn canister gets scrapped. No exceptions." Monica muttered, standing gingerly as the floor began to shake slightly, the seam she had found opening to reveal an all consuming darkness behind, ceiling panel lights awakening one by one to fill the void, eventually revealing a single pedestal, a dark colored.... backpack sitting upon the shining metal, accompanied by a notebook and what appeared to be both a tape recorder and a radio. Mathew rushed in a palmed the radio, checking the batteries and controls.
"Short wave. Nice." Monica moved to pick up the notebook, immediately being assaulted by a spiral pattern of unknown symbols that induced an instant migraine. She quickly put it down and attempted the tape recorder. "
A little outdated, isn't this? I mean, we still use MP3, but this is just ancient. I'm talking museum worthy technology." She flipped it over to look at the tag. "Nope. Nevermind. 'copyrighted - Garibaldi tech - 2206-2300'. I need to keep my mouth shut." Monica moved to place the recorder back onto the pedestal, accidentally pressing the most prominent button on the brick of white and black plastic, 'Play'.
The following information is only to be viewed by one Professor Marshalls and his next of kin, should they be of age and intent to listen, perceive, and accept what is said here.
A gruff voice played from the recorder, stained by years of speaking harsh languages, very clearly intent on speaking, and being understood. Mathew and Monica alike became silent.
To you, Marshal, I hope the day never comes that you boy realizes what he has, and that he will never hear this, let alone have the need for what I have create him at your request. If this is Mathew that is listening, I can only assume that either you are here along with your father, or have stumbled across the containment chamber designed to wait for you... or perhaps something more grave. Over the last century both the company you have been employed by, and mine as well, have gone through many expansions, becoming disjointed, and demanding more progress in technology. The leader of AntiSync I have confirmed to by assembling a force of invaders, troops, and weapons, mainly of designs not far from what I and my colleagues have produced, or from the result of our research thus far. I suspect the same of L.O.F.E., but I cannot yet ascertain the truth behind that. It seems much more benign thus far. However, I must depart, for First is of a mind to imprison me for my knowledge. In you hands I entrust my Codex, the notebook that sits along with the device prepared for your son, for you Mathew. You will one day grow up and know just what you are, a common saying, I suppose, but it fits all too well. In the event that this was discovered under dire circumstances, I ask that you guard my Codex, and the Transponder I left in your care. The Transponder can be used to find my location if absolutely necessary, but I ask you only use it if you absolutely require my assistance, for it will most likely bring AntiSync troops to you much quicker than is amenable. In the end, all you must remember is that the end will come to all things, whether they are good or bad, as the world likes to so simply denote. Whatever made the unveiling of this secret necessary will be undone by it, most likely. I bid any all who have listened my gratitude and any good fortune they can muster. May you not be in need of it.
The recording ended, the tape quickly rewinding and resting at the beginning. "So, is this the thing he was talking about? For me?" Mathew pointed to the blue-black shaded hunk of metal laying upon the pedestal, four ribs running the length of its mass and protruding over one end, a single rib shorter than the rest, on the very end nearest the pair. Mathew grabbed it before Monica could respond, moving it so it was in better light, showing a slot in the end of the shorter rib, about the same width and thickness of the blade he was carrying. "Well... let's see." Mathew put the tip of Moeru kage no ha into the slot, and pushed, the sword sliding in without friction, its home right where it rested.
"That.... halfway explains where that came from then, huh? What's with the others, are they all swords?" Monica asked, peering at the thing from the side, her theory confirmed as Mathew pulled on the next rib over, unsheathing a curved katana like blade. He lifted it to his eyes, searching on the oval shaped guard for a name like on the first.
"Piasukaosu no burēdo/ピアスカオスのブレード" He read aloud. "The Blade of Piercing Chaos." Mathew moved onto the next hilt after re-sheathing the last. He drew another katana from the next rib over, a diamond shaped guard at the base of the hand grip.
"Eien no kurushimi no ha/永遠の苦しみのブレード" Mathew returned this one to its sheath as well, clicking into place as it returned home. "The Blade of Eternal Suffering" Mathew moved to the final blade, another straight sword, and read the name on the curved guard, two spokes moving to point forward almost like a rapier's. "Hikari o terasu ha/胸が張り 裂ける光の刃" The Blade of Rending Light." Mathew plunged the blade home like its brethren. "Well, I'm kinda halfway guessing here. Like I said, it's been too long since Japanese class."
"Hey Matt, I think you missed one. Look on the plate back here, it's got another name." Monica turned the plate of dark colored, ice cold metal around on the smooth pedestal so the words were legible. "Viper's Nest - Garibaldi 4." Monica cocked her head to one side. "Not quite as ceremonious as the others, now is it?"
"It doesn't matter, Monica. You heard what he said, right? Time to find who did this and make them know exactly what pain is."
"Yeah, you don't mess with family, do ya?"
"If I have my way, I'm going all the way up to whatever crappy know it all is looking down through the clouds at us and let this happen if I can."
"Maybe there are some walls you shouldn't break just yet."
"Wait, what did you say?" Mathew asked, turning to Monica.
"Ahaaaaaaaaaa.... nothing. Don't worry about it. So what's the plan now, anyway? The police aren't here yet, and everything is a mess... including you."
"We contact This Garibaldi Person, obviously." Mathew reached for the radio, ready to press the buttons, but was stopped by Monica's hand, prying it from his grip before he could activate it.
"Hey! What're you doing?" Avoiding Mathew's reproachful stare, she answered.
"You remember what he said in the recording, right? That might just be worse, Mathew." She thought for a moment, dodging a few attempts of Mathew's to grab the radio. "What if we just go get some things from home, and then skip town for a while? We can visit my uncle's fishing shack, if we can hitch a ride with someone."
"That ratty place.... I dunno if that would even work. I think I'd die without internet. I agree, there's a few things I need to collect from home, and I think it should be easy enough to just sneak there, considering its night out, but the hardest part is getting out of here."
"Why do you say that?"
"What's the only reason that someone wouldn't be in here besides the security being disabled in the lab? Dad always had it off, but that's why the guard is able to hear him working, so he can't screw everything up so badly it can't be fixed."
"Maybe he's on a doughnut break?" Mathew internally covered his face in shame, but still managed to speak.
"The people who did this either think we're all dead, or they're waiting to see what happens. Besides, Chuck is basically some kind of bat. He can hear me causing trouble even when dad sneaks me.... used to sneak me into the sub-levels without permission. We need to be careful here."
"You've been watching too many movies."
"Yeah, well, don't complain if it saves your life." Mathew thought for a moment, trying to look through the shelves of supplies outside the door to their cubby in vain. After a moment, he reached for the dark colored slab of metal and hoisted it up, straps of the same material falling down as he moved it, woven fibers of metal glinting in the light. He moved it behind his back and held it on his shoulders like a back-pack, the swords sticking out slightly behind his head."
"I say we just try to get out of here slowly, quietly. There aren't any other access passages that I know of, and no maintenance tunnels in this block, so there's two options... the door, or the windows. Any preference?" Monica poked her head out of the door, scanning what little she could in a short time.
"Well, the windows were still intact last I checked, and those are supposed to be bullet proofed, right? I don't think that's an option. Guess I run out first, then you follow like a brave little knight." She said the last part smirking, and poked Mathew in the center of his forehead, eliciting a scowl from him.
"Funny. Very funny. Why am I going first?"
"You just got a new toy that can apparently destroy the world."
"I...." Mathew's upper body went slack in slight depression over the situation. "... he did say something like that, huh?" He stepped forward, straightening himself out before stepping back into the storage closet, ready for another robot to jump out at him. None did after a few seconds, but to his dismay, the one he had cut down earlier was no longer sitting on the floor, prone.

"Slippery bastard must've had a secondary power source or something... Alright Monica, follow behind me, and be silent. Pretend there's a shooter here or something."
"Yeah, already in panic mode."
"Yet you still talk. You are now dead, Monica." Mathew raised his hand and made a dead signal to her as he lowered himself to the edge of the doorframe leading out, earning only a deadpan look from Monica as he went, her movements mirroring his. He darted out from the doorway, and slid behind a bench, the metal slightly caved in, marking it as the one he had landed on. Monica simply slipped, and then slid face-first next to him. Not hopeful of the possibilities after witnessing Monica's grace, he moved along the line of laboratory benches and sinks, finally reaching the doors where they entered, all of the light from inside spilling out into the now darkened hall, all of the lights that had been on now silenced.
"This place doesn't shut down until two A.M. normally. What time is it, Monica?" Monica pulled a slightly soggy phone from her pants pocket, pressing the power button several times, and even trying re-seating the battery to no avail.
"I think that thing fried my phone, Mathew, no idea." Mathew did the same with his phone, as well as a few other devices he had on hand, all equally lifeless.
"Well, alright then. We'll figure that out later, lets just go." Mathew carefully moved up the wide double doors of the laboratory, pushing them open with only a slight creak. A single red light came into view near the end of the hall before it opens into the reception area, but as he moved the door further, it became two, startling him into a realization.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-" He inhaled harshly while speaking, closing the door once again.
"What, what is it?"
"That..... was a Dilly-Dally."
"Wait, a what?"
"A Dilly-Dally. They're an experimental security system that's made to blend into an environment. Built by some weirdo named Nytra, but he left this place years ago." Mathew's face flushed ghostly white for a moment. "Maybe he missed a few. Crap."
"I take it this makes things more difficult?"
"Yeah, we're in meme territory, Monica. Dead like a fat, minigun toting Russian." He thought for a moment longer. "Wait a moment, it should've been on us already if it saw us. I was right in it's line of sight, so...."
"Not so Russian?" Monica piped up, hopeful. "Maybe it got damaged like our phones. Maybe we're lucky and it's sensors are dead." He opened the door again, opting to wave at the red lights before making a few obscene gestures to make sure.
"Yeah, I think we might be good. Just stay quiet if you can, I do know this place is all tile. God forbid they'd opt for carpet in one of these damn death traps." The pair moved slowly, making sure the door shut silently behind them before proceeding toward the red lights, a silhouette coming into view into the low light as the approached, seemingly prickly, out of proportion for a human. They made it to the silhouette, and began moving around to the left side, mercifully allowing more space from the mystery biped, until Monica found what she later assumed to be a water cooler along the wall, one that Mathew went around not moments before. The jug above it fell to the floor with a clunk, the plastic body falling as well, ringing out with its hollow, plastic existence. The red lights turned, highlighting the wall where the cooler stood, causing Monica to gasp before covering her mouth, her breath becoming ragged because of the stress. The mysterious biped moved forward with one foot, the metal impacting the cheap flooring with a dull clunk, one arm raising to reach toward Monica. She moved backwards with a lurch, falling to the floor with a squeak as her shoes lost friction with the tile, dust billowing out from the wall where she once stood, the thing's arm receding from the hole it had created, each joint whirring ever so slightly as its head turned back down the hall where Monica sat, frozen in place. Mathew jumped up, tugging on a sword from the holsters on his back, but no matter how hard he pulled, they wouldn't budge. He pulled the slab from his back and swung it instead, reaching up to catch the thing's head, and topple it into the opposing wall. It struggled, unable to find footing as he dashed to Monica, pulled her up, and made a mad run to the exit, finding safety in the shrubbery outside, still wet from the rain that had ended since they made it inside.
"You alright Monica?" Mathew asked, hugging her as they sat there, waiting.
"No.... No I'm not, Mathew. That thing nearly killed me." She was still shaking, her bravado finally broken.
"Well, it was in low power mode, so I think you would have lived either way, but okay."
"You have one hell of a bedside manner, Mister Marshalls."
"Got it from my dad." He poked his head out from the bush, seeing no lights for several hundred yards, not even the other complexes next to the lab seemed to have electricity flowing, even though further away, little else was visible, more than enough to drown out the stars above. "You think you can make it home with me?" Monica shook her head before speaking, still slightly shaken. "Yeah, I think I can." They both rose, heading toward their neighborhood of residence, avoiding street lights the entire way.
"Please let this nightmare end, Mathew." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The clandestine pair snuck their way through brush and guardrail, bridging the short distance to Mathew's home, toting their still slightly soaked selves with as much stealth as they could muster. Eerily, the houses stood seemingly empty, not even pets acknowledging their presence as they passed, the few lights around providing large circles of orange-white luminescence to the dusky neighborhood.
"Matt.... this isn't... yknow, normal."
"I noticed, trust me.... just keep on target for now. Might be everyone is holed up because of the outage."
"Its hard to believe that one machine took out all this..." Monica stopped as Mathew raised his hand, still slightly crouched behind the boxwood they had stopped behind. "That's your house, Monica, right behind us. Need anything? Might be a good idea to stick with your parents until this all blows over." Monica raised her head above the slightly prickly bush so she could see inside the front widow of her family's brick and wood house. It gave her some comfort for a moment, before she lunged back behind Mathew, breathing heavily.
"Nopenopenopenopenopenopenopenopenopenope"
"Wait, Monica, slow down for a second, what's going on?"
"It's IN there, Mathew!" Mathew raised himself slowly over the plant they held refuge behind, looking back and forth slowly across the front windows for a moment before he realized what Monica meant. A pair of red dots crossed the large pane of glass standing int he front of the single story building, the crimson beacons reflecting off of lamps, chairs, and walls inside as it cycled around.
"Uhm"
"Yeah, like I said, nope. I'm going AWOL on that mission, red leader."
"No kidding.... Wait, are your parents alright? What about your sister?" Mathew leaned down to look her in the face, concern crossing his visage as he saw tears welling up in her eyes again. She had already given them up for dead in her mind.
"Let's just go before it sees us Monica, we can check for them later."
"Right, sure." Monica sniffled slightly as she moved in behind Mathew, who had transferred behind a different bush.
"These are damned convenient."
"I see your house, Matt. Looks like there's been something digging up your yard." Monica poked her head around the final obstacle before they reached their goal, and they could stop 'playing soldier' and hopefully relax and regroup before moving on. "Long gashes like really straight gopher burrows. They're everywhere."
"I don't see any movement though, so that's good."
"Not like you and I could do anything against anything as we are, Matt." Monica retreated slightly, moving behind Matt to get a good view around the other side of their cover, marking more of the same scratches along the asphalt, leading away from Mathew's home.
"I mean, when I swung this backpack thing at the Dally it worked alright."
"It was blind Matt." "... Good point" Mathew looked back and forth across the thoroughly deserted streets one more time, before signalling to Monica and moving to the side of his own home and poking his head above the sill of a side window, looking into his own dining room.
"It looks clear, I think..."
"Wait Matt, look!" Monica spoke up beside him, pointing to a small silhouette, no larger than a child of ten years, walking haltingly across the archway at the end of the room, small bouts of sparks flying into the air, dying as they began to arc downward.
"Oh, that's just... Jason.... but why the sparks? Whoever did all the stuff in the front yard must have banged him up a bit."
"Of course its the creepy robot butler thing..." Monica sighed with some small measure of relief, realizing something familiar, if not somewhat unsettling was on the horizon.
"Hey, he isn't creepy. You're just being mean now." Mathew began his move around the the corner of the house, hand on the off-white siding as he took small steps through the unevenly mowed grass of the yard.
"He became creepy when you and your father decided to put a hockey mask on him, Matt." Monica followed, avoiding every stone and creaking deck board that Mathew managed to set off on his ascent to the rear entrance.
"What other excuse could we use to name him Jason?" Mathew stood up slowly, readying his key for the door after fully removing the screen door from its hinges and setting it aside, earning a sigh and reproachful look from Monica as she waited. He slotted in the key to the knob, but found immediately that the blue door... simply needed a push. It was fully unlocked and gave little resistance as they entered, tiptoeing toward the now stationary robotic companion of the Marshall's family. "Hey Jason, code six one seven, lower response volume to..... whatever a whisper would be from here. Can you give me anything like a sitrep here?"
"Way to go soldier boy.... you sound like a bad action movie." Immediately as Monica finished speaking, the small-statured automaton swiveled on unsteady feet, the single camera in the center of it's face drooping motionless, like its cords had been cut. The reason quickly became clear, a large, flat shard of metal with a small serial number and a string of silver silk hanging off of it protruding from the robotic butler's neck, nearly severing the 'head' from it's shoulders.
"I.... Am afRAId tea will be.... Late, maSTer MarshaLLLLLLLLs..." The short robot gave its last gasp and fell backwards into the beige shag carpet of the room behind it, only its feet clattering as they struck wood, nearer to Monica and Matt.
"Well that's great, not even enough left to give us a description of the attackers...." "THAT'S what you chose to focus on here, Matt? Really?"
"Well.... what am I SUPPOSED to focus on?"
"How about we just hide, okay? Grab that knife thing as evidence if you need it so badly, but I would much rather be locked up in your dad's research hole right now than out in the open for whoever that was to come back and skewer us, mkay?" Monica fluently spoke without so much as breathing, as if she was possessed to do so.
"Alright, alright, take a breath, for goodness sake, Monica. Geez." Matt reached out for the shard of metal sticking upward in the night's light, flinching as he so much as came near it, bringing his hand away with a curse under his breath. "Frack, that's sharp." He looked at his hand, a solid line reaching through four of his fingers where blood slowly seeped. "But I didn't even........ touch it yet......"
"What are you blathering over now Matt?"
"You still have that alloy hairpin my dad made you?"
"Uh... yeah...." Monica thought for a second before scowling. "I might not be all that bright, but you aren't going to just cut that up as a test. Grab something from the kitchen over there instead."
"Okay then, will do. Geez." Mathew moved as quietly as he could to the kitchen, coming back through the dining room while ducking under the windows, a tea towel and a metal rolling pin in his hands.
"That's overkill, don't you think? Plus you're getting blood all over the towel." Monica sat in the corner, confused as to the delay, and wishing she could finally wake up from the nightmare she found herself.
"That's what the towel is for, my slow friend...." Mathew raised the rolling pin to the blade slowly, ready to draw it into the edge. "Man am I finally glad dad made everything out of that alloy metal he was testing. Finally came in handy. Heh." He moved the pin toward the shard in his robotic friend's throat, and simply kept moving, finding no resistance, even as the end of the pin clanked on the floor next to his feet.
"That isn't possible!"
"Oh, it evidently is, Monica..." Mathew raised the towel to the end of the blade, grasping where the silk it held was joined, and pulled, earning some jerks from the deceased robot below him as the blade seamlessly exited its temporary home, a gash in the floor evident where it had been only moments ago, protruding from the back of Jason's neck. "Okay then, lets go. Down to the basement, then through the door into the batcave."
"I love how you're enjoying this. Like its a damn movie."
"Just follow along Monica, we all need to cope somehow. It won't be long before we get there anyway, then we can bawl our eyes out again. Deal?" Mathew began moving toward the door down the the sublevel, using every piece of available cover he could, relying on his years of video games to bluff his way through to the door, and swinging it open to look down the flight of stairs into pitch blackness. "Monica, the light switch, if you please." The LED banisters in the basement lit one by one, bathing the concrete floor in blue-white light. "Alright, well, seems clear, unless they're hiding in the old dining set or something."
"Don't say anything please. You'll jinx us."
"Don't be silly." Mathew began descending the old staircase, managing to hit every creaking board he possibly could on the way down, allowing Monica to once again deftly avoid them behind him. They reached the large metallic door in the rear without incident, walking past the water heater and old supplies, even the washer and dryer as they prowled forward. "That wasn't there before. Like so much else that's happened tonight."
"Yeah, I somehow didn't think your dad let this oh so important door have so many gouges and scratches. I can believe blast marks, but not this." They walked up to the slab of refined metal, its surface gleaming in the lights, obvious marks on the cement floor where it had been swung open many times. The doors face was marred by countless marks of attempted entry, through sheer force no less, each gouge in its surface deep enough to wedge a cleaver into, many shards of metal laying on the ground where they had been pried free, the slab stood resolute against the assault, enough to force the attackers to choose easier prey. A small black box stood out on the wall from the perfectly smooth surface of the doorway, becoming the center of Mathew's attention as he reached up and placed his hand on it, taking his other to drop a small amount of blood from his cut hand onto a needle near his chest height that jutted from the wall. The box buzzed slowly as he left his hand there, and the needle retreated, clunking sounding from a distance away as he drew his limbs away. He stepped back toward Monica, who had been surveying the surroundings in a very paranoid manner, watching the immense slab retreat into the ground before them, a second, and third joining it, each easily four feet thick by the two kid's estimations. "Well, welcome to the safest place on earth, Monica. We'll hole up, and plan what to do next. I should be able to get copies of the security footage from tonight in there to look over too. I need to know what happened... and we have food, so long as you're alright with freeze dried broccoli."
"I think I need to throw up, before I think about eating anything."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So what is all this stuff Matt?" Monica looked on as Mathew piled yet more envelopes of various colors and sizes onto a rectangular table in the center of the sterile metal room.

"Its rations, mainly. Need to take stock and get rid of what might be expired at this point. Pops was terrible at keeping track, even if he did make this place to act like a nuclear bomb shelter."

"I don't know how many times I'm going to ask this, but that's what you're focused on, Mathew? We just looked at one of those robot things..."

"Diily Dally."

"...We watched a Dilly Dally..." Monica tilted her head as if she was looking over a pair of glasses at Mathew, accentuating the puffy bags under her eyes as Mathew continued looking through their supplies. "... going through my house as if it owned it, all the neighbors are either out for holiday or seemingly missing, and you want to hunker down and count how many damn bags of precooked carrots we have!" She picked up an orange hued bag and threw it full force at the wall behind Mathew, making a distinct splatting noise as it hit the shining metal and then headed down to the floor. "What are you even thinking, Matt? You've been cold this entire time, and here I am still trying to figure out if my family is even still ALIVE. Let me know what's happening inside that cold reptile brain already so I can stop thinking you're some kind of psychopath."

"Monica..." Mathew put down the can he was holding and looked toward her, leaning on the table as he sighed. "I don't know what you want me to say. Right now, we need to prioritize, I guess. That's all I'm thinking, honestly. We need food and water, because as far as my dad was concerned, should anything ever happen, it would be best to wait it out like a mole. So that's partially what I'm going to do. We're going to sit here until we get Garibaldi on the radio we found on the line, so he can direct us."

"That tape specifically said that would be dangerous."

"And what we're doing isn't? If there are really a flock of Dilly Dally out there, we aren't safe so much as leaving for supplies. The only way of defending ourselves that I can even touch right now is that backpack, and I can't fence, exactly, so I'm not sure its even useful."

"Your old man never gave you the gun cabinet code I take it."

"No, he didn't. Not like a twelve gauge shotgun would phase a Dally anyway, not with the alloy metal they're made of. It would barely scratch them as far as the testing proved."

"That's great news."

Mathew nodded his head. "So that leaves two options. The first is Christoph, but we would have to leave here to get in contact thanks to our phones getting fried. They probably couldn't punch through the walls of this place anyway, and dad never installed an independent line."

"Convenient."

"Yeah, he was a busy bee. So that leave option two. Garibaldi. I haven't seen that sardine loving weirdo in years, ever since he got that offer from AntiSync to work on weapons research. Good news is he gave us a line directly to him."
"That was just shortwave though, are you sure it'll even get out of this bunker?"
Mathew waggled his hand in a non-committal way as he scrunched up his face slightly. "Considering short wave travels something like THOUSANDS of miles, so long as he's on this coast, I can guarantee he'll hear it, so long as he's listening for the channel. Even with what this place is made of, it shouldn't be an issue, but there is the problem he mentioned in the tape." "Like I mentioned before."

"Yeah, if we start broadcasting with that thing, it'll be like standing in the middle of one of those anti-arms protests you see on the news and polishing a nine mil. You'd get swarmed and probably beat to death."

"Yeah, I really needed that analogy. Thanks."

"It's the first thing that came to mind, sorry."

"So how do we avoid that second part there?" Monica crossed her arms, trying to calm herself, seeing Mathew in control of the situation helping slightly. "We go somewhere else to broadcast."

"Shouldn't they already know about this place though? How is it even safe to begin with?"

"Most likely, the Dallies tried getting in, and deemed the front door as some kind of armor plating or whatnot, instead of, yknow, a door. They aren't exactly the smartest of the bunch, so if they reported it as safe to whoever is activating them, they probably won't come back until they do an orbital scan, if they even have those resources, which I can't tell you either way. That's the only time we need to panic, because as usual, dad never finished the part of the defenses that makes us look like so much loam, instead of a giant slab of metal. Sure the outer coating can fool basic sonar, but not a deep scan."
"That leaves one last question... Where?"

"I say we just go back out to L.O.F.E. And use the highest floors to send it out. I could probably even rig up something remote to let us operate the radio and relay it's feed somewhere safe in the building. I got shadow some of the techs in there, so I can hack it if need be. Then we just hoof it out to the roof and we can use one of those window cleaning things to lower ourselves down in case any of the Dallies, or god forbid the ones directing them, decide to come and say hi."

"When did you have all the time to plan this, Matt?"

"While you were on the couch bawling your eyes out. Sorry if that's mean, but you were... quite a mess for a bit."

"At this point I'll just assume you turning into an ass is how you're coping with all this."

"Uh, thanks? Geez." Mathew moved away from the side of the table holding provisions and moved toward the black-blue slab of metal nearer to Monica. "I still want to know what the deal with this is. The tape said it was made for me if I should ever need it, but that doesn't really mean anything. It made a great bludgeon earlier, but I can't find any catches or buttons...." He lifted the slab up, each of its four swords jutting upward as he pulled on the straps and swung them around his arms, causing Monica to back away. "...anywhere on it. Its like I'm supposed to say one of those stupid catch phrases or something like in movies."

"That sounds like Gary."

"Yeah, I know, it does.... I'll leave out the fact you called him that when we see him, for your sake."

"Oh so he does hate that nickname? Good to know I guess."

"Yeah, I thought we could boil water on his head last time you used it in front of him..." Mathew felt around a bit, trying to find anything of use in activating the backpack, but was coming up short so far. "You see anything, Monica? At all?" Monica moved in to look over the device for actuators or switches of any kind, tracing her fingers on the lettering marking its back.
"I don't know what I'm even looking for, Mathew. All I see is the name Viper's Nest, the swords, and your wearing it..." Her hand caught on the side of a sword sheath, and it moved with her hand, swinging downward, its opposite mirroring as it moved, until they stuck out to Mathew's sides, somewhat awkwardly. "Well I found something?"

"Yeah, definite battle potential there."

"Hey, I'm trying here!"
"What happens... if I...." Mathew tugged on the handles of the two blades mounted to his back, pointing to his sides, and tried twisting them forward. The blades stayed locked in place, and their sheaths moved forward and dropped slightly, on a pair of arms to mimic the normal position of a scabbard. "Ok.... this is great and all, but...." Just as he spoke, a clunking sound rang out, two smoothed handles popping free from the body of the backpack Mathew had on. "Uhm. Alright."

"They look like a parachute release."

"Huh. Guess that means I should...." Mathew grabbed both of the handles with the opposite hand, his arms crossing in front of the harness that held him to the device they were trying to activate. He yanked them forward with a grunt, and both extended on ropes of metal, before abruptly stopping. "Ok Garry, you and I need to have a talk on your designs, this is getting too convoluted." Mathew let go of both handles simultaneously, causing them to retract back to where they were originally embedded, and immediately, the mass of metal on Mathew's back shifted, plates and hinges unfolding from the slab until they reached out toward his limbs. His torso was quickly covered by the dark colored metal, sheets sliding into place around the harness as they protruded from the slab, feeding into eachother and linking until they became dormant. In surprise, he stumbled, and pulled away from the armor covering his arms, even as the branches on his legs knitted closed tightly, even forcing his feet up to cover underneath his shoes, and he watched as tubes of the same metal formed, slid around his fingers, and forced themselves down to form a solid glove around his digits. The weight on his back had nearly vanished, all of the mass moving to encompass him, and once again he gasped out, startled, as it enclosed his head, the plates forming a roughly angular representation of a bird of prey's beak. "Yeah, so I still need to talk to Garibaldi about his designs, but I think its for another reason now."

"Mathew, can you see out of that thing, its solid metal!"Monica felt around on the helmet, no longer able to identify the seams that had been there beforehand.

"Yeah, there's a hud in here and everything. Glad you can still hear me though, this thing must be equipped with some kind of speaker out there.... By the way, you should probably was your hands, they're covered in eyeliner."

Monica jumped back slightly in surprise and checked for herself. "Yeah, I guess crying does that. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, it was just a little too easy to see in this thing, with you being all handsy on my face." Mathew grabbed the handles of the two blades at his sides, tugging on them lightly, and to his satisfaction, they started to move with his hands, exiting the safe home they had within his armor. He pushed them back, and immediately felt something on the end of both begin to give as he pressured it. "Hidden buttons everywhere, just like Garibaldi." He pressed down, gripping the hilt of each sword firmly, and immediately felt vibration on his back, before also realizing the far wall he had been facing was drawing closer at an alarming pace, his vision simply slowing to match the adrenaline rush he suddenly felt. Mathew rocketed face first into the far wall, purplish-red jets sprouting from his back like fledgling wings, and also from his ankles. He met the metallic barrier with a mighty clang, followed by a groan as he slumped to the floor, dazed.

"I thought you just said something about hidden buttons. Maybe we should be careful from now on?" Monica couldn't help but laugh to herself in spite of everything that had happened so far, watching Mathew attempt to stand, and finding his feet weren't quite his again just yet. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------