datadiving | fun with bomberman lore(tm)

fun with bomberman lore(tm)

[ Catchall for whatever this hybrid universe is where me and Sora smash our headcanons together like barbie dolls, and really isnt that what RP is all about ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes. Required in case of power failures, made to be easy to reach. Either it's a manual switch nearby, so it should be clearly labeled, or it's somewhere around the doorframe. Usually, it's a handle you can pull.

[ He monitors the shaft with his suit equipment. He's not putting himself into it, that seems like a fool's errand, but he wants to know if his cameras or sensors can spot anything that his increasingly unreliable vision misses. ]

You said this was demonic research?

Something like that.

[There are no labeled switches that Bomberman can see, so he begins feeling around one doorframe, almost turning himself upside down in the process.]

The minutes I saw mentioned scheduled summonings of someone named Dantalefor. I'm no expert and haven't met the guy, but he's been known to interact with mortals.

[Lilith being the product of one such interaction.]

From what I've been able to tell, it seems like the researchers here have been using infused umbriolite for their experiments, with Dantalefor allowing them regular portions of his power. But...they were also wondering if they could harness Dantalefor himself, somehow.

[An absolutely Ancestrals-damned scheme if he ever heard one. Dantalefor isn't anywhere near Sthertoth's level, the way Lilith told it, but he's still no slouch in the demon department. And all this to recreate the BHB's planetary vacuum cleaner? What the hell is going on?]

As if the usual run of hazards for a space station weren't enough, they're adding demons into it. [ His voice is dry. ] What a triumph for engineering.

[ Demons are where his knowledge falters, though he's not sure if the presences that sometimes haunted the corridors of space stations, flashing by portholes and airlocks, could count as demonic or were simply just the price of having permanent outposts in space. Regardless, the occult isn't by any means his specialty. Shiro seems to have a worrying amount of familiarity with it but you know what he's not going to ask. ]

Does he have any servitors? Something tried to compel me to walk into the shaft when I found it, and since an elevator has no specific ability to do that as far as I'm aware, who knows with this place--

[ His cameras flicker, the sensors in his suit beep. Movement, something spoked and sinuous clattering up the shaft in a rush of limbs. The banging as it rushes up the shaft might be enough to tell Bomberman which door is the 'right' one...for a given value of right. ]

--I'm assuming we're now dealing with, at best, a gift from a demon that's still inside the station.

[ He might have to kill or maim the damn thing, which is theoretically fine. He's got full control over his suit and it's not like he hasn't killed people without access to explosives before.

But it would be so much easier if this was a person. Or people. It's not a good thought to have, he knows, but he knows how to kill people, who need oxygen, or organs, or limbs. Demons are a different thing entirely. ]

[Aw, don't worry so much, Sirius. Bomberman's knowledge of demons basically only encompasses "this guy could have potentially been a father-in-law if things had actually worked out with Lilith" and "of course the only way you deal with a demon god is to repeatedly pelt him with divine nukes." ~~he also may or may not know how to summon Lilith but~~ It's all good in the bomberhood!

Anyway, Bomberman does — unfortunately — hear the skittering of the mystery creature, which sends sharp shivers up his spine. It seems to have vaguely issued from somewhere within the other door, so he makes his way over there. Ancestrals damn it all, this would be much less harrowing if this weren't zero-g.]

I don't know about servitors, but he's apparently able to split off "pieces" of himself. At a minimum they function like drones powered by his will, I guess.

[He pauses next to the other doorframe, considering his options.]

Did you get visual on whatever just made that noise?

Oh, so just a part of him might be loose in the shaft. How lovely.

[ He sends Shiro the footage his suit camera had captured; a long body, what looked like spoked wheels and spindly limbs in equal measure, whisking itself out of sight up the shaft. ]

I can't get you any better - it's gone up and out of sight for now. Might have to follow it up, though, eventually. [ With it heading for the upper floors, breathing and thinking is easier, and so is cobbling together a plan of action. Good thing he's flight-capable.

It might let them leave. Might. But it might not. And he doubts that Shiro is the type of person to just leave the mess for someone else to clean up. ]

[The thing, weirdly, reminds Bomberman of a children's toy he once saw on a holiday shopping trip during his primary school days, a concoction of colorful wooden wheels and plush cuboid segments representing different animals, some with yarn or fake fur accents. It's really a stretch of the imagination to link the two, truth be told. But with this thing bringing its awful demon cooties Bomberman's way, turning up the chaos heat in this laboratory kitchen, it seems his mind can't help but grasp for anything resembling normalcy to defend itself.

And then, as if in vengeful rebound, his mind also tosses up a memory like a lifeline:

He faced down the god of demons by himself and won.

...well, he survived, at any rate. And certainly he had a little divine help. (And maybe passive emotional support from a scared floppy-eared creampuff.) But that's close enough to winning in a situation that absurdly dire.

With his back pressed against the wall, Bomberman flexes the fingers of his right hand (his throwing hand; preferred one, at least) as he listens for the movements of the mystery creature. It's definitely on his level, in this closed room. But...it doesn't sound like it's moving around much. The clattering seems a little muted, as if in some far corner.

In other words: did it get stuck somewhere, somehow?]

If you're done with the lower levels, take over R&D for me. [He'll send over what he's got already to minimize redundancy.] I'll handle this thing.

[Sooooo that's a "no" to "Will Bomberman let this be someone else's problem?" Not that it could ever be answered any other way.

(In Bomberman's defense, he's the only one here with actual demon experience, however limited it may be.)]

[ There's a moment of silence. ] Be careful, now, [ is all he says in response to that.

The clattering and banging echoes down the shaft - he can't imagine what it's doing up there, and he certainly doesn't want to find out - and he's reasonably content with that thought right until he hears it slam its body against the metal of what he can only assume is a closed door.

There's a distorted howl of triumph as metal shrieks under the assault of something it's not equipped to hold back. He can hear the thing crowing in victory as it wrenches apart steel like it's a child wanting to unwrap a favourite toy. The noise is probably equally horrendous coming from Shiro's location.

Well, he won't need to find the manual release at that rate. ]

Sounds like you got it excited. [ His visor flips out, sliding over his face as he engages his flight mode, kicking into the shaft at last. The unpleasant hum of the umbriolite makes him shudder, but he can just see the snaking hindquarters of the demon (demon piece?) slither into an open corridor. ] Look out.

Edited 2023-10-30 09:11 (UTC)

[Bomberman barely registers Sirius' words as he settles on his plan of action. He reaches down to pull the manual lever on the door, and then, as the door slides open, he grabs onto the doorframe and swings his body into the room in a graceful arc. Out of curiosity, he quickly checks the inner doorframe; there's another manual lever to close the door again, which he engages. The metal thud of the door panel slotting back into place is morbidly reassuring to him. (Sometimes it's the simple illusions of control in life that help.)

Faced with this new area to investigate, he switches his suit camera back on to perform an initial sweep of his surroundings. It looks like another laboratory, with devices and machines of various configurations outnumbering standard computers. Based on the large crates of dark rocks lined up against a far wall, and combined with the knowledge that the large door in the corner currently making Extremely Concerning noises leads to an elevator full of rocks, he's guessing that this is where this station processes its umbriolite. Taken as a whole, it's quite a lot of material for a mineral with a notably low retrieval rate of 37 percent. But the discovery doesn't surprise Bomberman — the documents he'd found had mentioned attempts to synthesize such a rare and difficult-to-procure mineral. (So then: creating and processing umbriolite. Busybodies here, indeed.)

Also not surprising are the sigils Bomberman can see painted on and around the elevator doors, pulsing faintly red as the thing throws itself against the metal with high-pitched screeching that somehow simultaneously seems to hit like bass within his body. His first thought is that no one can possibly complain about how unreadable his handwriting is in comparison to this mess of occult graffiti. His second thought is wondering how long the door is going to hold. It at least looks solid and undamaged, which feels like a lie but it's a lie Bomberman is going to take for the moment. He said he'd handle this thing, sure, but he's in no hurry to handle it anytime soon.

There's another furious screech-thud against the door, and he mutters:]

Quiet down, I need to work here —

[Which is of course when the crimson glow of the sigils putters out, ending — strangely — with a discordant tone ringing in his head.

A large perforated dent blooms from the center of the elevator doors. The perforations sport multiple white dots against the darker metal that soon show themselves to be several circular rows of curved teeth. After a moment, the teeth fully penetrate to their full length, gnawing at the metal.

"Sounds like you got it excited," comes Sirius' voice over the comms, and Bomberman is about to hit back with a retort when it's followed by: "Look out."

The apparent warning comes a little late, as the thing has already managed to wriggle free from its improvised prison. It screams straight for Bomberman with the jagged alloy disc still clenched between its teeth. He snaps his right hand forward to slam a bomb into the metal just as it comes within arm's length.

Instead of exploding in fire, however, or in any other elemental power, the bomb explodes into a shimmering barrier of chi — a bomb shield that sends the thing ricocheting back where it came from. Unfortunately, physics dictates that this also sends Bomberman in the opposite direction with an equal amount of force. Since he's still near the door, and the door is closed, this means he gets flung back-first into it. Very hard.

WHUMP!

Okay. Oof. Hang on, time out, has anyone seen the breath that just got knocked out of him — ]

[ Sirius doesn't bother with trivial, stupid questions like 'are you all right'. He can hear enough through the open comm link to make a rough guess as to the situation - probably not bad because Shiro isn't being chewed on and screaming, but not good either.

The squirming form of the demon slams into the elevator shaft's wall, into a congealed deposit of umbriolite. It leaves the imprint of its body behind as it struggles free, though he could have sworn that umbriolite isn't a soft material. A trap of some kind, maybe - he snaps a few pictures and puts it out of his mind. There are more urgent things to deal with right now.

If Shiro wants a time-out, he'll get it. Sirius is a veteran at both fighting and moving in zero-g environments, and as the demon tries to sink its teeth into an easier target it's finding the man more difficult to capture than expected.

Sirius is never quite where it expects him to be, a frustrating, tantalizing inch or two away from being caught by the dangerous tangle of limbs or spokes as he utilizes his jets and the closeness of his opponent to play cat and mouse. He moves far more naturally in this weightless half-darkness, with an instinctive grace that only comes from being unthinkingly adapted to it.

Physics is a lever he can use, a weapon in its own right. His engines whine as he puts on speed, lashing out with a kick into something soft and driving the creature into the corridor's floor with enough force to make it bounce off the ceiling, too.

Hopefully that's bought enough time for a recovery. Shiro said to leave it to him, so he's trying to do just that - it's not like he'd know where to start, anyway. And, as much as Shiro is, in his memory, still that sixteen year old boy, he'd be a fool to treat him as one. He's an adult now, with the weight of experience heavy on his shoulders. ]

[The good thing about zero gravity is that he at least didn't fall to the floor in a pathetic heap after the collision. It's almost relaxing to just chill weightlessly in the darkness, except for his heart hammering from the shock and his back aching from where his life support pack smashed into his spine from the impact. (Ancestrals have mercy that nothing's broken in there...)

Also worrisome are the sounds of an altercation reverberating through the elevator shaft. As loud as the demon's frustrated shrieking is, Bomberman can easily make out the distinctive whirr of the engines on Sirius' suit, the hiss of his jets in action. When he drifts over to the elevator doors to check things out, he catches flashes of white and gold refracting off the iridescently dark facets of the umbriolite-lined walls with every burst of jet flames. The dazzling light show illuminates Sirius' handle on the situation: he doesn't seem like he needs help. Not for the time being, anyway.

With a still-shaky breath, Bomberman curls his fingers as prepares to produce a demon-disintegrating (or at least demon-displeasing) Light Bomb. The absorption of the Elemental Stones into his body as he collected them has left usable but limited residue in the nexus of his chi conduits, allowing some degree of access to their unique power even with the Elementals themselves having been used to resurrect their respective knights. He hasn't used Light Bombs since the resolution of the BHB incident, so in theory he should still have a decent amount of its power to draw on.

But Light has always seemed reluctant to work with him, and he hadn't had possession of it as long as the other Elementals. Bomberman gets the sense (albeit with no empirical evidence) that even with having made decent use of Ice and Wind Bombs in the time since his return to Bomber Star, the pool of Light he has access to is a pittance in comparison to either of theirs. Too, it seems like the chaotic infusion of the umbriolite deposits is running interference on his connection to the element. Even if he can actually manage to get Light to cooperate with him, who knows what damage he'll be able to do.

Well...it's not like he has any choice in the matter. This damn thing needs to be taken down and fast. He can't stand around wishing for a sledgehammer if he's got a decent pickaxe at hand.]

Sirius — I need you to stall for a bit longer. When I give the signal, send it up here so I can blast it.

[You know shit is real because this is the first time either of these two have called the other by name on this mission.]

[ He might have gotten in a little light teasing if the situation wasn't so dire. As it is, though, he simply taps the side of his helmet in acknowledgment. ]

Understood, Bomberman.

[ It's a familiar rhythm to him, or it was once. Cooperation was paramount on a station; another barrier preventing the kind of mistakes that got people sucked out airlocks or violently decompressed. Even more so when other people were trying to make those things happen to the people they didn't want to be there anymore.

He'd hunted alone after the destruction of what could be laughably called his home planet, and that was something he didn't want his mind to stray to in such a touch and go situation, so he focuses his attention on the demon trying to pull out his intestines for toys instead.

(Whatever Shiro is doing, he can feel it, strangely enough. It's a different kind of pull and presence to the demon's overbearing pressure, though no less strong. It calls to something fragmented and shattered within him, all torn and twisted out of shape from the Omni Cube's less than tender ministrations as it pumped in place of his heart all those years ago. It had filled his veins with the fever-bright burn of stolen cosmic fire; blood had felt lacking to his body, already half transformed, by comparison. Enough time, and he would no longer have bled at all.)

He continues his game of pursuit with the demon, pushing all thoughts out of his mind and focusing only on movement. Otherwise, it will likely tear through his armor like tissue paper and tear him to shreds and then he'll really have problems to dwell on, at least seconds before he dies.

When the signal comes, he uses the full weight of his armored suit to shoulder-check the creature down the corridor, sending it hurtling towards Shiro as it shrieks furiously. ]

[Bomberman's aim somehow strikes true, a fully-charged Light Bomb hurled straight into the demon's head. Its body is impaled through with luminous shards of elemental power and sliced with photonic swirling ribbons. The explosion bleaches the surroundings like a sustained lightning flash. Even through his auto-darkening visor, Bomberman finds himself still having to turn away from the searing glare.

If the demon wasn't a pretty sight before, it certainly isn't now in the wake of a point-blank holy hand grenade. Its mouth is almost completely blown off, hanging on by gooey-looking tendrils of ichor and leaving a hissing, glowing gash where it used to be. Other glowing wounds on its mangled body tell the extremely short story of how well it handled being torn to shreds by its celestial antithesis. That might even be some amputated appendages floating uselessly nearby.

But no way is Bomberman going to come closer to check for sure. Instead, through a cloud of wooziness and slight nausea (why was pulling that Light so hard?), he snaps an Ice Bomb into his palm, intending to freeze the demon's various loose pieces and hopefully prevent any last-ditch survival attempts before incinerating it with a Fire Bomb. He doesn't know if it'll be enough — but he does know that he has no more Light in him.

Then the demon speaks.

Hᴏʟᴅ, Nʜᴀᴠʀᴏɪ ᴜɪ Aᴇɴᴀʏ'ʙʜᴀʀ. I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ.

The words echo strangely, melting into distortion as their syllables fade away.]

...excuse me?

[And as Bomberman speaks, he's suddenly overcome by a tangled sense of vertigo. This would have given cause for him to stumble in place, were he not floating in zero gravity. As it is, he merely ("merely") feels cross-eyed. About his entire existence.

Yᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇxᴄᴜsᴇᴅ. I ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇ ᴇxᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴅs.]

I heard you the first time. [The retort, while certainly sarcastic, isn't as defiant as it might normally be.] Are you Dantalefor?

[Mᴏʀᴇ, ᴏʀ ʟᴇss. Tʜɪs ᴡᴀʏ, I sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇ ʟᴇss.

The demon will likely sound like atonal whistling to Sirius, with an odd, unctuous feel to its timbre. Bomberman is randomly half-intelligible here and there, as if code-switching. When he's completely unintelligible, he sounds similar to the demon. In any case, there's a layer of crackling at the edges of all his words.]

[ This encounter has thoroughly gotten away from him at this point, between the demon-speak and the blinding flare of whatever that bomb was and the fact they are now having a nice chat? So good of the demon, whatever its name was, to do that only after they'd mangled it.

He drifts to the corridor's edge and perches there like a bird, wary still as he fights to settle his vision. The light had been startling, but somehow not all that painful to his eyes; the explosion had jump-started something like an electrical current shocking his entire body, something deep inside righting itself like an errant part clicking into place. As if it had been waiting for such a moment. Internal reservoirs long unused, now filling themselves from the harsh environment of space.

(If Shiro grasps for Light's power again, even instinctively, he'll find that there is something he can use. Sirius' grasp of his own element is pure instinct, someone who has been never trained but has been irradiated with it for so long that his body grew used to tempering its own reserves. Need, even someone else's need, will pull it forth.)

He listens to the sounds as Shiro and the demon go back and forth, trying to decipher that unintelligible speech, running the recordings through his stored language banks for comparison. He'd made some study of old ruins - a lifetime ago - but he doubts he'll have much luck.

He could go and complete that cataloguing, but he doesn't trust this creature one bit. He'll keep watch. ]

So...I don't suppose you'd care to explain why you went for destruction before diplomacy? [It's not really like Bomberman is surprised that a demon would do such a thing, but...

I ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ.]

...you look pretty "here" to me.

[Tʜɪs ɪs ᴍᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ. I ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ. Bᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɴ I ғᴇʟᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ Lɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ sᴏ I ᴄᴀᴍᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ I ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ Lɪɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴡᴀs ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇxɪsᴛ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴄᴜʀɪᴏᴜs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴜs I ᴅᴇᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴘᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ. Tʜᴇ ᴅᴡᴇʟʟᴇʀs ᴏғ Eᴅᴇɴᴀɪ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ Lɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏʀ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴɢᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴡɪɴɢs.

So the researchers didn't have the protection of Light elemental power in dealing regularly with a demon. Not an unexpected thing to learn, but still, it was something. There was a nonzero chance that the repeated exposure, even with the defensive sigils, would have...

— wait w h a t]

What are you talking about?

[Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, ɪᴛ ɪs ᴍʏ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴᴏ̨ᴜɪʀʏ.

Bel's six hundred and nine hells, I need more coffee for this.

He refrains extremely hard from sighing loudly in exasperation, toning it down to a deep exhale through his nose. Regardless of what Dantalefor just said about "speaking serving a more ideal purpose", it's entirely possible Bomberman might already be on thin ice with him due to blasting apart one of his demonic drones, never mind his flippant tone so far. Probably best to not to push things. Especially when there are some big Answers to be had.]

Yes, I know. But what do you mean about the "winged one"?

[Hᴀᴠᴇ I ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ? Oʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜɴᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ, ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘs? Iᴛ ɪs ᴅɪғғɪᴄᴜʟᴛ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛ. Bᴜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, Nʜᴀᴠʀᴏɪ, ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴅᴡᴇʟʟᴇʀ ᴏғ Eᴅᴇɴᴀɪ.

A flummoxed Bomberman glances in Sirius' direction over the remains of Dantalefor's body.]

Uh. Do you know what this guy is talking about?

[Said completely normally, no weird vox effects added. Though, perhaps, with a touch of accusation under the disbelief.]

[ Sirius stares for a moment in clear confusion when he's addressed. ]

I can only understand half this conversation at best, you know. [ His tone is dry and faintly amused ] You'll have to fill me in on the details.

[ He feels more at ease now, more whole in a sense. It's a feeling he'd almost forgotten, that sense of resonating with his environment. They'd joked that it was like getting your sea legs, back on planet, though it had been a while since he'd seen the ocean.

(The Omni Cube had played fast and loose with his body, and when Altair had torn it from him it had taken part of his soul with it too. Even with it restored, everything in its proper place, it was a relic that he knew would kill him in the end, pumping its own power through his veins to substitute. An artifact of impossible power that could preserve its owner, as long it was fed, and as long as you didn't mind becoming little more than a vessel of its power in the end as it remade you in its image.

Even after its destruction, he'd felt...off, though his own scans and others' had declared him to be in perfect physical health...what was left of him, anyway. Strange that it would take an incident like this to fix it.) ]

What is it saying?

Huh? You don't...you don't hear Dantalefor speaking?

[that's not what Sirius said, sweetheart]

Oh, I can hear it clearly. Can't understand a word of what it says, though. It might as well be static.

[ He sounds puzzled, in a sort of this wasn't obvious to you? kind of way. ]

[Bomberman has no idea what he can say to that. Oddly, it's Dantalefor that saves him.

I ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ғᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ, ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴏғ Cʜᴀᴏs. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪɴᴏ̨ᴜɪʀɪᴇs ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴀʟʟ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ.

Oops. A hushed whisper to Sirius:]

I'll explain later.

[Addressing Dantalefor, his own voice returning to nigh-unintelligibility:]

Um, sorry. I was just confused.

[Yᴏᴜʀ sᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ. There is a pause then, and Bomberman gets the sense that Dantalefor would drawing himself up to height and locking gazes with him if his body capable at the moment. Iɴ ᴀɴʏ ɪɴsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ, sᴘᴇᴀᴋ: ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴛᴏ ᴀssᴏᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʟʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ Nᴀᴍʟᴜʜᴇʀɪᴍ?]

What?] I...I don't know who that is. [Yet it also doesn't sound unfamiliar...

Hᴏᴡ ɪs sʜᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ? Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴇxᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ, sʜᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I, ʏᴇᴛ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀғᴀʀ. Uɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴇɴᴛ, sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ʙᴇsɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴛʀᴜsᴛ sʜᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴜsᴛ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴘᴀɪʀᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.

And it clicks into place.]

— you mean Lilith?!

[Iᴛ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ. Hᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, I ᴏʙsᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ. Rᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇss, ᴀɴ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ ɪs ʀᴇᴏ̨ᴜɪʀᴇᴅ.

Is...is this guy seriously here just to be an overprotective dad?! No, surely this was some exotic demonic dynamic he didn't understand, something with no real equivalent among (most?) mortals. How am I supposed to answer this without pissing him off?!

...

......

................

................................................

Bomberman sighs in defeat.]

She's...a friend. I care about her a lot, but, uh, I think she's got someone else who's "associating closely" with her.

[Iɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ. Dɪsᴛᴀɴᴛ sᴘᴀᴡɴ ᴏғ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴀɴɢᴇʟ Aʟᴇᴋsᴏʀɪᴀɴ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ. I ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴏ̨ᴜᴀʀʀᴇʟ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴇғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇs. Pᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ᴀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ʀᴇᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ?

Before Bomberman can fully grapple with the batshit idea that his ex-crush's demonic dad might be trying to play matchmaker, Dantalefor's body spasms then, as if shot with something. He brandishes the Ice Bomb still in his hand.]

Don't. Move.

[Rᴇᴍᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ. I ᴀᴍ ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴛʀɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ I ᴀᴍ ʟᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ Cʜᴀɪʙʜᴀsʜᴛɪʀᴀ.]

[ This conversation isn't very comprehensible when following only one side of it, but clearly this Lilith is a woman of mutual acquaintance. Shiro has interesting friends, it seems.

And then things get a little more hostile and he shifts his stance from relaxed to aggressive. ]

What is it doing?

[Speaking quickly:]

He claims [slight emphasis here] to be "retrieving" this piece of himself.

[In other words, without this link to the mortal realm, Dantalefor will no longer be able to communicate with Bomberman. So Bomberman hurriedly continues:]

Wait, before you go, can you...would you mind explaining to me what you were doing here in the first place?

[Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀʏs? I ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ Eᴅᴇɴᴀɪ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴜᴄᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴsᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs. Iɴ ᴀᴄᴄᴏʀᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ Aɴɢᴇʟ's Dᴇᴄʀᴇᴇ, I ғᴜʟғɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇʀᴍs.]

Why did the people here call you, though? What exactly did they need you for?

[Tʜᴇ ᴀssɪsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ.]

But for what?

[There: a sense of slight exasperation from Dantalefor, a shrug with no accompanying body movement whatsoever.

Tʜɪs I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɴᴏᴛ. I ᴀᴍ ᴜɴᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴᴇᴅ. Then his tone shifts again, sounding...sly. Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ? Lᴇᴛ ᴜs sᴇᴛ ᴛᴇʀᴍs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴀɴsᴀᴄᴛ. Yᴏᴜʀ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴏɴᴏʀ ᴍᴇ.

Bomberman waves his hands in polite declination (and possibly a touch of panic).]

Er — no, that's fine! I'm, uh, good. Think I can figure it out myself, actually. No offense or anything.

[Wʜᴀᴛ ᴏғғᴇɴsᴇ? Nᴏ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ; ɴᴏ ᴀsᴘᴇʀsɪᴏɴs ᴄᴀsᴛ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴍʏ ғᴜʟғɪʟʟᴍᴇɴᴛ. Oɴʟʏ, ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇ: I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ Nᴀᴍʟᴜʜᴇʀɪᴍ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍᴏᴠᴇ Aʟᴇᴋsᴏʀɪᴀɴ's sᴘᴀᴡɴ. Yᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇʀᴇ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ sʜᴏᴡ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪɴᴄᴏɴsᴇᴏ̨ᴜᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ʀᴀɴᴋ ʀᴀɪsᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴜsʟʏ.

If Bomberman has to be honest, he almost prefers Sthertoth's megalomaniacal raving and threats of universe-wide mass murder to whatever this is.]

That...wouldn't be a transaction if I did, would it?

[The impression of a sigh. Tʀᴜʟʏ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. Sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ Bʜᴀʀ'ᴀᴛʜᴀ ᴜɪ Sᴀʜɪʀᴀᴋᴀᴇɴᴀʏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴅᴇᴇᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜᴡʜɪʟᴇ. Pᴇʀʜᴀᴘs I sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʀᴀɴsᴀᴄᴛ, ᴍʏsᴇʟғ, ᴛᴏ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴs.

Dantalefor's body (and its severed parts) seize up again, congealing into a blob of ichor and cursed flesh. Lines of fire-bright sigils stripe across its form like chains, one by one. And in similarly quick succession, each line of sigils dissolves into little scarlet-tinged motes. The blob begins to violently pulse and distort, as if something were fighting to escape from within.

Bomberman activates his thrusters to send himself backwards, Ice Bomb still in hand. He knows for sure now (as if it weren't already apparent) that he doesn't want to get on Dantalefor's bad side. But if he has to put the demon on ice so that he and Sirius don't get iced...

Nʜᴀᴠʀᴏɪ ᴜɪ Aᴇɴᴀʏ'ʙʜᴀʀ, ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴏғ Cʜᴀᴏs...I ᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.

And the blob cleanly contracts into nothingness.]

[ He stays silent, just watching curiously now that something other than combat seems to be the way out of this. Not that he's bad at speaking, but it's hard to carry on negotiations when you only have a small piece of the puzzle, so to speak.

Once the demon departs, leaving nothing behind to show for it but the wreckage of its violence, he speaks up again. ]

No real answers there, hm? We'd better collect all the data we can and review it later, before our oxygen runs out. [ It's not really in danger of doing so right now, but the less time they spend here the better. Who knows what else might be attracted to this place.

He floats forward and into the room proper, immediately attracted to the machinery. This is the part he clearly has experience with; he pauses to snap photos with his suit camera from as many angles as possible before prying the machines open, dismantling them with brutal efficiency. If they were in an oxygenated environment, where sound traveled, Shiro would be able to hear the whirring, hissing sounds of his suit's gauntlets reconfiguring themselves for the work of cracking open machinery. ]

I know most of these - they're industrial grade machinery for manufacturing or analysing material, [ he explains as he goes. ] What I'm looking for is internal data storage. If they were following standard protocol, they'd strip the machines and clean them out as they went, but they probably didn't have enough time to do more than just leave - if they left at all.

The computers are easy enough - just take the hard drives, leave the rest. They're modern models, so there shouldn't be a need for specialized hardware to read them.

[ He pauses in the middle of his lecture, lingering at one machine that burns with the embers of chaos energy. ] This one isn't industrial grade. Some kind of laser cutter, but not a model I'm familiar with...probably a custom build.

[ It looks fairly simple - a sturdy, clear box on a stand, and a laser cutter attached to a flexible arm within. A chunk of umbriolite sits in the case, a symbol of some sort half-burned into it. ]

Not sure what it was carving before it stopped, though. It's probably demon-related.

[It's Bomberman's turn to be silent, reeling as he is from the astounding, unbelievable encounter comprising the past several minutes. Some might have found the transition from Sirius to be abrupt or callous, but he's grateful for the return to business-as-usual (and it was what he was going to do anyway). He's more than happy to let Sirius take the lead this time. The technical patter is soothing, in its way, and upon Sirius' comment about the hard drives, Bomberman goes off to do as he suggested. It's nice not to think for a bit.

(If his brain weren't fried from dealing with Dantalefor, he might dwell more on the fact that this was how things used to be, once upon a time.)

When Sirius calls attention to the laser cutter, he pauses what he's doing and drifts over to inspect. He murmurs:]

It looks similar to sigils that used to be on the elevator doors. Before Dantalefor broke out, I mean. No idea what they were for.

[He sounds a little dazed still.]

[ Sirius doesn't know how to handle decompressing squishy feelings but he DOES know how to handle Getting A Job Done. He deftly squirrels away all the little chips and bits and pieces necessary to the data of each machine. ]

Protection, then. Though it didn't do them much good. [ He leaves it alone, continuing his work.

More silence, then. ]

So what did it say to you? You look like you've been through zero-g turbulence.

[Also lost in his work, Bomberman takes a moment to pull together something coherent to say.]

Dantalefor didn't know why the researchers summoned him here, other than that they wanted his power for something. Didn't seem particularly concerned about it, either. Guess no one was asking too many questions as long as both sides got what they wanted out of the deal.

[Yes. Extremely disturbing content. :|]

We'll have to go through it all and find out, then.

[ Another pause. ]

You're holding out on me, aren't you? [ It's not accusatory, just....amused? He seems to find it funny. ]

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