One Plus One is One on a Bun

Room #673. A very plain one compared to the others, which all looked exactly the same save for the different numbers. Each door stood in neat rows, perfectly paralleled from each other until the wall broke away into a corridor that spanned for thousands of feet. The lights were off for the morning hours, the building seeming to sleep comfortably. When it awoke, work would happen as usual until the shy hours of the morning and then fall to rest again for about an hour before another patient needed medication, had a complication, or died. It was the place for the most advanced medicines, and yet had the poorest score for saving patients. Mostly it was because they took the most mysterious cases and often took their work to the next level. Some were to the standard for society in health, but the people were so determined on complete eradication that they eventually died for some reason. Senior doctors had less and less remorse every time.

On the right hand side of the room was a picture the patient, and when scrolling down it showed more information. Gender, race, medical information, status, operation status, medication for now, medication for later, medications throughout the time in the hospital, future expectations, allergies, an infinite amount of information. The picture that stood first was one of a red-haired boy with a lightly freckled face and chestnut eyes. It was a picture coming straight from the UWUC. A full-body picture from when he first arrived on Sigma, exposed and nude after various testing like all the other pictures taken on the same day for his rare species. It was quite nice, considering. There, however, were wholly inaccurate towards his appearance. The seventy-eight pictures following displayed his sickly appearance when first admitted at Sigma with Opus and then the ugly transformations that occurred during treatment all to the final product.

Jeremy McKinsley was the name of the boy who resided in this cell. He stood in front of the room's mirror, looking at himself with depression. The room was empty except for the mirror, a small rug for sleeping, and what looked like a couch to sit on. Besides these things, it was a large white place for healing that kept a bright light to spruce up the lonely feeling in here. A smile lacked on his features as he looked himself over, occasionally poking at his stomach (which stuck out now as like he'd eaten himself to fatness) as if it were a button and would spring up and do something like open a can or turn him normal. Being in this place helped him think that he would regain some normalcy, as he hated himself now and his freak-like qualities. Even so it seemed like every test to make him better made him worse, and that hope dwindled. The empty room kept a silent promise that reminded him of what could be. He wanted out of here; to be free and never come back. Maybe even go back to Sigma where things weren't as bad as they seemed.

What would be the point, though? He'd been transferred without word. They probably all forgot about him or thought he'd died. It was better that they did. He might as well have been dead looking like this. He was a pudgy-armed, claw-fingered, green, lizard-skinned, vegetable-shaped little monster now. They'd outcast him or pelt him with rocks or kill him. How could he blame them anyways? No one wants a Godzilla-backed freak in their ranks.

What use could he be now? He could hardly run an adequate speed and he ran around like a streaker. Since the start of these mutations, well, his clothes didn't make it. Couldn't have. He wouldn't have event expected them to. He was too short for them now and much too fat. They didn't give him anything to wear either, it was against their policy. They thought that if they gave the patients something they'd kill themselves with it--suicide wasn't uncommon. And, as the healthiest planet in the galaxy, they couldn't risk further health problems by giving them something possibly dangerous to their health. What did it matter anyways? He now lacked anything to cover. At the thought, Jeremy looked down at himself. Where in Hell did that go? The mystery made him feel sick. The blasted aliens turned him into a girl! But he didn't have all that, no... Now he was just an it. A thing. He hardly had a gender or something to identify with. It ruined everything.

He'd come on this interplanetary evacuation for one thing: To keep the family name alive. The McKinsley shall live forever, even through the stars. How could he do that now? Never mind sex, how could he even attract a girl? His whole mission was over like that. He'd failed, and why? Because he got sick within two months. Pitiful. Pathetic. A shame. If his father were still here he'd surely disown him. God, if he were his father he'd do it. Possibly, he could woo an alien, but he wasn't sure he was at that point yet. He'd seen very little of them in his time. The most variety he'd seen was in the hospital and all of them were sickly, and therefore repulsive to the eyes and repelling. Instantly an image of the mutilated chromakin in room #578 flashed in his mind. He shuddered, the need to gag crawling up his throat but never came to happen. He didn't want to do anything with that.

Well, he could still use the restroom, and despite the fact that he wasn't sure what was coming out, it at least assured him that something was working. Maybe it was a sign. Still, it did nothing to cheer him up. He was still a fat mess. Looking at himself now, he wished he'd spent more time looking in the mirror and cherish what he had while he had it. He did take his time with it before, but now he could spend decades. The memory of his natural self pained him. How he wished it back. He couldn't live like this, like some monster. Jesus, kill me now, he pleaded, but in parenthesis he added not to take it too seriously. Bad as he was, he wasn't ready to die. Jeremy smiled. Maybe it would be fine whether he thought it or not. How could he be gotten now? If Heaven truly was in the clouds in the sky than it and Jesus Christ had been decimated. The clouds are on Earth and Earth was gone. He could say what he wanted. Jeremy frowned. What was wrong with him? How was that a good thought in any way?

It wouldn't work anyways. There were clouds here, even if they were thing wispy ones that looked like they could be wiped away with tissues. He shook the thought out of his head. No more of that. It wasn't helping anyways. Dead or not, Jesus couldn't save him. Only a miracle could. He had a theory to get him back to his old self. An experiment with his own power. Possibly, maybe, if he found a human he could fix himself. His power always transformed him. Maybe if he found enough he could make himself permanent. Granted, he wouldn't look like himself, but it was good enough. But... the problem was, he'd most likely need a constant supply if he changed back like always and there weren't a lot of humans. It was a waste of time! They were all on Sigma anyways. What was worse was that he hardly knew where he was. Jeremy sighed at the worthless plans. He didn't have the guts to kill anyone anyways. Thinking about it made him feel like a criminal.

Jeremy frowned at his oddly shaped body and the drastic difference from then and now. "At least you've got your voice," he told his reflection, his English accent coming out as strongly as it ever had. It was the only thing that stayed, luckily. The only thing that connected him to his old self. None of his features stayed, not even his eyes, which had turned black as coals. It really was like being a different person, and as a completely changed science experiment, he no longer felt he could keep the name McKinsley, or even Jeremy. It was better to knock himself off the face of history and disappear with it. Now, he went by his most fondest nickname, Chobo. A smile broke on him when he thought about his first reaction to it. The name for a fat, homeless clown. It fit so well.

Chobo turned away from the mirror and seated himself on the green-yellow couch that he had. He had no idea of what time it was since there were no clocks, but he was sure his appointment was almost here. They said in the morning, and the crack under his door was now illuminated with light. He yawned and relaxed more comfortably on the soft furniture, lying on his stomach and letting an arm dangle off the side, above the ground. It was quite early and he was tired. It would be nicer, better, to just sleep now. They won't come for hours, he assured himself. They had a lot of others to attend to. Maybe I can wait twenty more minutes. It wasn't even five before he was asleep.

----

A burning sting jolted up Chobo's arm and through his body, waking him instantly. He cried out oddly from surprise, looking around frantically at his new surroundings. Then he was once on the couch, now he was strapped to a bed and being rolled out by a purple alien, a species he was not familiar with. He knew the doctor however. Others were with him, checking statuses and talking among themselves and going along the procedure. The purple alien reacted quickly to him, looking down from his reading, which was really just another informational screen on his medical information.

"You need to be awake for this one, Jeremy," he said kindly. Chobo calmed as he began to realize what was going on. The operation. Christ, how did they get me without waking me up? He was always told he was a light sleeper. He wasn't quite sure what they were doing, however. They said it was something for his motor skills, but he couldn't see why they had to strap him down for it. He could walk like everyone else. The bed lurched when it came over a bump as they passed through a door. Now where were they going? He'd never been here before. This place there were in now was less confined and much brighter, and by natural light, he could tell. He was unable to look at see where he was, since he seemed to lack a neck, but looking up, he saw the reflection from a window. Tyikin Hospital. That's what this place was called? They must have been at the front entrance. A click sounded and his eyes went to the sound immediately. It was the informational board being put back at its place on the foot of this bed-thing. They stopped as the aliens began to talk to the receptionist.

Chobo only got a small bit of the conversation, and he didn't like it. Surgical Room C-77 on the right... It was all he got before it was drowned out by his own panic. Surgery? While he was awake? No, no, no. That's not how it happened. He wasn't supposed to see what they were doing. Heart pounding he began to struggle at the restraints, catching the attention of some of the doctors around him. They tried to calm him with reassuring words and still avoiding what they would do to him, but they fell on deaf ears. He was too afraid to listen to them. The only thing he knew was the promise of death ranging in his own mind. Dammit, Jesus! I said I was kidding! Maybe he shouldn't have been too happy that the religious figure might have been dead.

OOC: FAIL POST DESERVES A FAIL ENDING! DX

The wall of Tyikin Hospital shimmered. At first, it wasn't even noticable, and could have just been a trick of the light. But when the concrete actually started to melt was when things became obvious. What was once a stable and solid structure was being turned into liquid. Imagine oil oozing down a sidewalk at a leisurely pace, except ten times as fast, and bubbling as if it had been set on fire. The gurgling of the mess resulted in bubbles that burst upon forming. An crevice had been worn away in the wall. Beside it was a door that could easily be accessed by any civilian. A foot splashed on the gray puddle on the floor, startling the already confused receptionist. The figure stepped in, a line of bright light flooding in behind him. "Hello, Miss. It seems you're holding an incredibly interesting person at this facility." as soon as he finished speaking, he smiled, abnormally white teeth sparkling like a star.

Steven Rowan Gauci blinked behind black sunglasses that were specifically designed to reveal his gleaming blue eyes, while at the same time giving off the cool look of sunglasses. While he had expected an awestruck look from the receptionist, followed by the characteristic fainting, what he got was a confused stare. An awkward silence hung in the air, neither of the pair moving, until the receptionist clicked a button on her desk. Almost instantly, an alarm sounded, nearly making Steven jump out of his clothes. Also specially designed him by himself. A soft, yet sturdy white dress shirt like he used to wear on Earth, accompanied by black slacks, and white boots, that stood out more than he would have liked for someone planning a break out. As the alarm whined, Steven raced forward, his boots clicking on the ground, but he didn't get far before something dropped in front of him.

The eggshell color and shaped, made Steven stumbled backward, shocked by the sudden appearance of this... thing. Almost as soon as he did, the egg creature transformed. First, cracking from the roof of the pod, a robot head shot out, resembling a plain tube of shining steel. A top it's head was the remnants of the top of the shell. Along it's side, a rectangular shell piece jutted out, clicking and whirring as the robot settled itself. This rectangular piece rotated so that it pointed at Steven, revealing two barrel shaped objects. From the bottom of this strange droid shot what looked like two skis, supported by an iron joint leading up it's orb like body. Two more accompanied this one, splitting apart with systematic accuracy. "Nice security..." he taunted, as the words left his lips a barrage of red streams of light fired at him. Only from want and need to protect his own life did he dodge the moment he saw it. Steven rolled to the side, not skipping a beat as regained his footing and ran.

The droids behind him, tucked and rolled after him, their robotic arms still firing the burning lasers that lanced through walls like a knife through butter. The hall he entered seemed endless, if he looked forward he would see an eternal white hallway, with no end in sight. But no, he didn't dare look, he was too busy looking back at the droids, calculating what direction their lasers were headed so that he could move in time. He skidded to a halt, turning to look at the robots, and as soon as he did he shot his arms out. Come on... Give something, anything. His powers were unpredictable, managing to get something useful was like winning the lottery, extremely rare. Unless he knew what he was doing, anything could happen.

A burning sensation rode his spine up this head, turning his vision red. It felt like someone had set his brain on fire. He squinted, channeling the pain he felt into something tangible, something to fight with. The droids rattled down the hall, baring down on him with lasers that emitted a high pitched whine. Almost immediately, the lead robot melted before him, as if it were struck with acid that very instant. The white paint job deteriorated, as well as the metal it was stuck on. It revealed a jumble of wires and circuits that fell apart with nothing to hold them together any more. The remainder of the once dangerous robot was trampled by it's allies. He concentrated on them this time, wondering if he could somehow replicate what he had just done. He waited, watching as the lasers came closer and closer, and the two white bowling balls got closer and closer.

It was then that he turned and ran. The burning pain in his brain had disappeared, as with the tingle in his spine. There was nothing but fear caught in his throat as he raced to save his life now. What kind of a liberator are you if you can't handle two stupid robots. Why are you running anyway, stand and fight these things. He skidded to a halt as his two enemies breezed past him, unfurling to their complete form and settling their lasers on him. Almost instantly the volley of red flew at him, on instinct he held up his hands, trying to well up the last amount of power he could. It was by pure luck that it worked. The lasers seemed to halt in mid air, the robots as well, as if they had been put on pause. Steven looked at them with a flabbergasted stare, his mouth hanging open in awe. And then he laughed. He had done that. It felt good to have power again. Now to end it. He held up his hand, looking down his nose at the robots, and imagining their plea of mercy.

Almost instantly, the area that seemingly had stopped moving, disappeared. All of it really, just up and vanished. The floor, the ceiling, most of the walls, all were swallowed into nothingness. He looked at the spot, seeing pipes gushing water out, and rock under all of the metal, along with the sky above. "This place really needed a skylight." he hissed at no one. He chuckled, turning on one foot to see two aliens staring him in the face with guns at the ready. He couldn't tell what race they were, in fact, these aliens looked nothing like he had ever seen before, with their peculiar scaled skin and oblong heads. Their skin a sickly shade of yellow that contrasted their white jumpsuits so much it almost made him laugh. Steven looked at them with raised eyebrows. "You two scumbags are in the way of Utopia."

Steven listened to the purr of the cat in his arms as he stroked it's head. It used to be the receptionist, now she was an orange haired kitten, and the hospital was a jungle. It had taken Steven exactly thirty minutes to find Surgical Room C-77, destroy the alarm systems, and turn half of the hospital staff into animals. The prisoners had been released completely. And all around him was life. Grass grew where tiles used to be, the walls were now wooden, and birds flew over head. Though, Steven had not escape this battle without scars. His precious sunglasses, destroyed. His shirt was literally just hanging threads now, and his boots were torn in multiple places. He looked as if he had just walked through a war field. But his goal was finally right in front of him. He looked at the door in front of him and watched as it turned into loose mud. He strutted through it, a smile cutting across his face as he looked at the doctors and nurses before him. "Now, where is, err, Jeremy Alexander William McKinsley... the Third?"

OOC: I got tired near the end...

"Now, where is, err, Jeremy Alexander William McKinsley... the Third?" Chobo's heart lifted. He didn't know what this was for, but whatever it was it had to be getting him out of here, or postponing this procedure until a future date. Whatever it was he was happier than angels with wings.

The thirty minutes proceeding this had been the worst. Not only was he never properly consoled for this surgery thing but they had given him some injection that effectively calmed him down, even so far as to make him feel enthusiastic about this little procedure. However, his brain knew the difference and kept him held onto the reminder of imminent death. None of the solutions and medicines looked familiar to him. He was sure they were doing this without any for of sedation. Did they think he could take that without a problem? He was mutated, but not bionicle. He wouldn't last five minutes. Still, this hypnotizing drug wouldn't allow him to resist them after the untied him an ordered him into this spot and that. Now he was restrained to the wall, spread eagle, and waiting for whatever else to happen.

Past getting things ready, the start of this task went deterred when some commotion started up some ways somewhere else and the doctors had to run in and out for status reports to know if they could continue. It seemed a-okay, unfortunately, but to be sure, they firmly locked the door and began prep again.

He didn't like the idea of having to cut him open just to improve his motor skills. They could do that from... vigorous practice, right? Yes, precisely. This was all unnecessary, but the syringe stole his voice of protest and he couldn't do much more than hang there by his tight restrains and plea that this day would end soon. Maybe luck was on his side, because soon that time was when the fellow before him came, after much loud commotion. He, what Chobo would say, melted the door into a brown mess that resembled mud and opened the rest of the hospital to his view. It was completely changed. What used to be white walls and straight hallways was a vine-filled jungle. The green stuff seemed agitated enough to burst out and grow and stretch across an endless escape until it met up with its end, and then grow until it leaked into space itself and touched stars light years away. It was magnificent. Each leaf touched with the perfect green as if it were just born, but large enough to have aged centuries. The colors of the indigenous flowers shown vibrantly through the green, pushing their way out so there was no hope of being lost in the untamed land.

Out from the green thickness came a human, to Chobo's surprise. His clothes were ripped away and he had a series of varying injuries about. He looked as if he were emerging from his home inside the place, which he lived since birth, but still kept civil air about him, being tame enough to keep a cat and hold and pet it tenderly. Like a regular Jumanji. Speaking of cats, where did he get that? He hadn't seen a regular animal for a while now and he never thought he'd see one again. A cat! It was more exciting than meeting all the world leaders before they started discussing international matters. The doctors were either just as impressed, surprised, afraid, or confused as to why a boy would come into a sterilized room dragging in plants they've probably never seen and holding some small-sized thing that they've never heard of. That, or all at once they were realizing that, at this moment, their perfect world of health and vitality had been encroached upon by a heathen boy and his diseased monsters and plants. Who knew what kind of bacteria they were carrying. That's what worried them, most likely.

The white haired boy who came had called for him, using Chobo's formal name, but he could hardly guess why other than to get him out of here, which he would only guess from something that wasn't an alien. Either that or he'd ask him to play a mystical board game of space adventures like Zathura, or ask him to play an old board game that sends out stampedes of animals and poachers and spiders and turns people into monkeys, or turn him into a plant to add to his Garden of Eden. Honestly, he wouldn't be too surprised if two naked people with hair and leaves covering their privates came out offering them all apples. Then, that would probably be the boy being the snake. Any good villain had a cat. And oh, he had a cat.

Chobo yawned, the drug trying to force his excitement down by bringing on the feeling of mild fatigue. He wiggled his fingers and toes as best he could to attract some attention to himself. "Over here, child," he said with an unfortunate lack of enthusiasm. Man, that stuff worked well. He could jump right out of his skin with the energy running through him, but he felt no interest in displaying that and felt like laying down and getting this over with. Hopefully this wouldn't discourage him. Chobo's voice tipped off the doctors to react instead of gawk like turkeys and one, farthest to the right, pulled out a clutch piece from a holster and pointed it with hands trembling to the boy. One of the others, whom Chobo noticed moved towards the far wall pressed a button and instantly, ten robots--all of which Chobo could most accurately describe as... crab robots--all colored rust, flashed into appearance and did a twitch to arms before they cloaked themselves into a white-wall background.

Well, that scared him. Fat chance of him getting anywhere by himself. They didn't even need the drug. If he tried to leave he'd probably get his skull blasted off by one of those things, but whatever they'd do it was obvious it was pointed towards the cat-petting, white-haired, Jumanji boy who stood, feet in the mud, before them.

OOC: Second verse, same as the first...!

"Really? I would think by now that you would realize that it is just useless to even attempt to continue this battle." he calmly said looking at the crap robots. They were different from the ones he had had to fight last time, but that didn't change a thing. They could still be killed, and rather easily with his powers. He held out his palm now, feeling the energy travel through him like a concentrated wave, flowing through his hands and hitting the crab droids. Instantly, they became real crabs. Their rusted exterior crumbling, revealing a bold crimson shell underneath, what used to be nondescript marbles, became real eyeballs, and the jaunty movements became more life like. Their size also changed shrinking to the tiny form of sand crabs, though they usually had dust colored shells. "See? Useless. Unless you want to come to the same fate, I suggest you hand over Jeremy."

He looked around, the doctors and nurses still shocked, even more frightened now as they looked up on the boy with trans-mutative powers, who could make things change shape and form, and make something out of nothing. And then he saw the creature, resembling a shrunken T-Rex with arms that were more proportionate to its body. It was an abomination, a cute, and possibly squishy one. Like a girls plush toy. He looked at it, wondering what exactly it was, it felt too familiar to be just an alien, and he had made sure that all the other aliens had been freed. Was this... really Jeremy? And then it talked, talked! Wow, what a miracle, this thing was alive, and calling him a child. But Steven was more preoccupied with the fact he was a dinosaur. What kind of a joke was this? The picture had clearly shown a nude male specimen. Not this chubby creature. "What? Is this some kind of joke? Well, if it is, it isn't very funny."

Whatever it was, he still needed to save him. Almost immediately, he snapped back into mission mode, his eyes shining bright blue. The ground shook beneath his feet, a mini tremor starting from his own personal bubble till it expanded to consume the whole hospital. The ground cracked, as he looked at all of the researches surrounding him. A cocky grin popped open his lips and a vibrant cerulean light sprayed through his pearly whites. And then. It was gone. The research lab had just disappeared, leaving everybody and everything that had been inside of it gone. It left behind not a single trace of life, just the empty plot of land with pipes and wires connecting to nothing. And then, a moment later Steven reappeared, clutching what he believed to be the lizardy skin of the creature Jeremy. He could only hope that it was him. It was hard to see what you grabbed in the instant you entered deep space and then instant you left.

His foot found the messy ground beneath him disgusting, his special designed kicks ruined now. Covered in globbity-gook. And he had painstakingly worked on them so hard, not like his other creations were he just slapped an image together. He bet some of the aliens he had turned into animals were missing vital parts of their form. A snake with no fangs, a bear with no face at all, maybe some birds missing patches of feather or eyes. He hadn't been to concentrated working on them. Steven sighed, wishing he had some kind of boot polisher, he'd make one when he got back to Lida, when ever that was. Hopefully some time soon, he needed to confer with her a little bit, especially on this weird dinosaur by his side. Speaking of that little dinosaur, he glanced back at the creature, with a frown. "Mind explaining how you became... That?"

Magnificent! Really outstanding actually. The boy, whoever he was, had taken out the little crab robots in an instant, even without seeing the darned things. Before his eyes he saw the bionic animals transform into their actual counterparts. Real live crabs laid about on the ground, clacking with their claws so they could do God-knows-what in their future existence. With his ultimatum thrown out, it didn't seem like the doctors had much choice than to follow him. None of them looked eager to be turned into crabs or have plants sprouting from their ears for whatever reason. They were hesitant, justly. If you had a kid like this pointing invisible power at you you would may wish to have time to think about what would set him off. They hardly had time anyways. The boy had become agitated at the sight of... Well... Him, of course. Yes, yes. Hard to believe and all that tragic jazz, but he didn't have to be so damn frank about it.

Joke. Heh. He wished. If it were it would be a cruel one played by his worst enemies. And really... Chobo didn't remember having enemies. Truth or just a perk of dementia? Nonetheless, he couldn't imagine who would do this if not by an enemy, since this sentence was too cruel for a friend to play as a careless prank. It could be Satan, but the devil wasn't his friend since he wasn't Satanist so this could only point towards enemy? Unless this were a test. Mm. No, this seemed more like a plot than a conspiracy. He'd go with enemy. Hmphf. He was going up against a crafty sort. They knew where to hit him.

Reality surged back to him at the grounds shaking. What in Jesus's name? At first it was a subtle movement, but it grew in short seconds and the wall behind him fidgeted with anxiety. What was going on? He squinted, blinded by a suddenly bright light. And then... Nothing.

Suddenly sounds boomed in his ears. It sounded like a tornado of wind was whipping past his ears. His eyes were shut closed to protect them from the forces of this sudden movement. His heart beat wildly from fear coupled with confusion. What was this? Some kind of new torture chamber. As he thought and sat there strapped to the wall, he could feel his lungs constricting from a lack of air and suffering from being unable to get more. Was he supposed to just die here? To be ready for surgery and then blasted into a torture chamber after a white-haired boy came into supposedly rescue him?

How... Tragic.

Just as quickly as it had happened, Chobo was taken from the horrible world. It was a few moments before he dared to open his eyes. Everything around them was gone. Just... Gone. The entire building looked like it had been snatched off his hinges and thrown into the ocean by a tornado. Is that what had happened? His own little Dorothy experience? No, this was no Wonderland. This was the same place they'd always been, he was sure. He'd never seen what everything looked like outside the building. Seeing everything now was strange, as if he'd been brought to a different dimension. Eyes from aliens he had never seen stared at them wide eyed and curious. He wondered them... Did these aliens have enforcing officers?

His entire situation began to come to him in these shy moments. He noticed the touch of something else and looked up to see the white-haired boy. He didn't looked to please, most likely because of the stuff that stuck on the ground. He shuddered, now feeling it on his bare feet. And he thought these aliens valued cleanliness. This wasn't that. He'd been so used to the lifestyle that the impulse to get rid of this dirt hit him like boulders and he desperately wanted a shower to clean himself in. Chobo got so distracted by it, in fact, that he forgot completely about everything else going on around him and what had just happened before this.

"Mind explaining how you became... That?" Mm? He looked up at his apparent savior. At first, he was speechless. This... Kid had been able to walk through a place that seemed impossible to escape and turned into a jungle in... Minutes. Half an hour? Maybe. He didn't know how long he had been there. None of it seemed believable, like it had been a dream. Up until the point with the robotic crabs, seeing it for himself. But even then it was too odd to be true. It didn't look right to his eyes. It was strange, weird. No, those words couldn't describe what he'd seen. But what could one expect? To see a person turn a dead object alive and then change it to a more animated state. It was abnormal in thought. Seeing it then... Well, wasn't quite like it was in the movies. But it had to be real, right? Dreams were vivid, but not this much. He would have woken up when he was being ripped apart by air currents, correct? He couldn't remember being injected by anything that would stop him from staying awake. Maybe that was the trick. Chobo's eyes scanned the crow that grew with the sounds they made from their murmuring. No, no. This was definitely real.

Still. It was too strange to be possible. What if, for whatever reason, he had to recount this? He couldn't without seeming... Crazy. No one would believe unless they saw it, and even then they might thing they'd gone insane. A boy about the same age as him turning hospitals into jungles? With a little more thought he could have come to the same conclusion. Whatever it was, he'd already said it was truth. He'd better stick with it before he had a war within his mind. Anyhow, this... boy-hero (...?) had swooped in and gotten him with everything but leotards and a cape. He'd been rescued like a real damsel. A Rapunzel. A damned princess. Chobo sighed. He really was a woman...

Finally he decided to stop hesitating and get on with it. "I can't say," his voice an accent carrying a faint slur from previous drugs. "I was sick and they gave me medicine. Now here I am." Yeah, one bad day after another with that one. Painkiller or not. It caused more pain than it took away. "Have you seen all the pictures? They were quite nice," he said half sarcastically and half with loathing. He eyed the boy again and suddenly felt the need to move back and separate himself. He stopped himself for a moment and then decided against it, despite how high the need grew. What if he had some berserker rage? He didn't want to get into that after what he'd seen.

"May I ask you what your name might be?" He ought to know the name of this kid if he were going to be around him in such a filthy spot as this. A reminder of the gunk on the ground came to him and he suppressed another shudder. He had to forget it. But as he stood there he couldn't help but think about how it would feel if he took a step. The disgusting feeling of the warm gak sticking between his toes filled his mind and affected his stomach. He wanted to wretch.

But Chobo didn't want to add to the filth already there.

Steven and was bored to death looking at the boy, he seemed so... So, well not entertaining. His outside appearance told him that he was an interesting boy with a little swish in his step. The truth was that he spoke like Sylvester Stalone, and had the charisma of damp rag. Yawning, he smacked his lips, frowning at the boy as he stumbled through the conversation. When the creature finally had the politeness to ask him his own name, Steven was ecstatic, finally the volleyball of conversation had been whacked to his field. Now time to parry, but not without some enthusiasm from Steven. He spread his arms wide and flames leaped from his palms, they started at a pale blue that was plucked off of his hands by a non-existent wind and then carried above his head, spiraling in a magnificent funnel of colors. Red, orange, yellow, they all danced together as they rose. High above his head the flames disappeared from Steven's hand, and the twisted and tangled with each other. Mingling, as Steven would say.

Curling together they spelled out in sputtering flames "Steven Rowan Gauci". "That is who I am, a human just like you... were. My abilities are powerful, and that's all you need to know. I liberated you for a reason that cannot be disclosed in such a location." He glanced around, suspicious that an eavesdropping animal might try to hear his plans, and if his spell ever wore off, they would do much more than that, they would be able to explain them. It was a good thing he had left that cat in space. "In fact, I can't even say that much. What you do need to know is that you have no choice in this matter, at all." He continued, his voice turning stern as he commanded the boy. Technically this was kidnapping, and technically it was illegal, but so was keeping someone against their will and experimenting on them. He chose to think of this as liberation. "Oh right, I forgot we need a ride out of here..." Of course he could just teleport away, but that was so boring, he needed a more fantastic way to get around.

He smiled, putting his arms on his waists as he surveyed his surroundings. Trees were every where, he'd certainly need those. And something that would propel him. He processed the ideas that were formulating in his head for a moment, "What do you think, newbie? How should we make our escape in style!" The flames above his head died away, fading into thin air just like they had formed from.

OOC: No muse!

Ah, he had one of those ones on his hands, judging by the fiery name above his hand. Steven Rowan Gauci. All fine up until his last name, which looked like his parents had a hard time spelling "gucci" or attempted to mix two words together cleverly or, worse, attempted to make themselves exotic. But judging by the look of the boy who had saved him in a more humble background, he could say that he was likely from the lower class, where people had no control over what their last names were. Still, his last name put him off oddly and made himself less desirable as partner. Especially when he was, laughingly, stuck with him without choice.

Really? While threatening, who was he to say that he couldn't decide to go if he wished? Granted, he had no idea where he was or how to leave or who those around him were and they all seemed very threatening with their staring, but... But, but, but, that stopped him from nothing. Hmphf. This kid talked to him like he was some sort of espionage or something. What was he? A fanatic? Probably.

Unfortunately, he couldn't navigate around this foreign world. He'd have to stay with this bollocking weirdo until he learned a bit more, it seemed. At least he was a man of glamor, that was easy to spot. He expected to be forced onto whatever contraption this boy poofed up, but, oh joy, he was allowed to pick himself.

"Oh, a choice of my own?" Chobo said smartly, a smirk flashing on his face as he conjure up something in his mind. Automatically he went back to the imagination and privileges of royalty. Yes, something in that style. The first thing that came into mind was a chariot, but all princes had them. A helicopter came to mind, but the kinds of business always flew in those. He needed something unique! But what, but what...?

"A flying rainbow cow with rocket boosters on its sides." That just seemed... Much better than whatever he had before. Flying through the air on a cow with rocket boosters. Not only was it a ride, but you had something to eat in the end! Which made it even better! It was a lot more practical than his other idea, which was a guillotine powered catapult. Hmphf. That was only useful when you needed to execute someone and everyone he could think of was more than likely dead. Those patients that were in there... Probably happy. Maybe... Except for the ones coming for less drastic reasons...

Oh well, what's done is done. A rainbow cow... Why rainbows? Because a regular cow would look absurd! A cow with spots of every spectral color would look sensible with big jets sticking out of its sides like growths. It's not like he asked it to be a unicorn cow... Now that would be ridiculous! You could never have something so absurd without it doing something like... Pooping tacos or something! That would regulate it.

Chobo doubted this would come out any way as he planned. That kid would probably mess it up somehow or add some unnecessary doo-dad to it. Like a... Waffle maker. Or it would come out ugly. He saw the faceless cat! What kind of imbecile messes something like that? The last cat he'll ever see and it had a deformed head! How spectacular...

"My talents are wasted..." muttered Steven under his breath with a sigh. "A cow." he shook his head with disappointment. "I expected a creature straight from Disney World to be a little more creative than this, but alright. A cow car. Coming right up with a side of rocket busters." he rubbed his hands together, generating the perfect image of the cow he was trying to conjure up. Though it wasn't as he easy as thinking up an image and then making it exist. If he did that it would be a 2D card board cutout of a cow car. He had to think of the vehicle from every single angle, including its interior so that it worked correctly.

It'll need hooves, and those rockets on the side, an interior seat-leather of course-and horns just in case. Even as he was thinking of it, with his hands stretched before him, the object was forming, changing from thin air, into a bulbous shape. A large orb formed in mid-air, it's with splotches of all the colors of the spectrum. It was the size of a tank, but with a cartoonish shape about it, and not at all threatening. It stood on long stilts that were a kalediscope of colors, hooves crunched into the ground. From lack of experience with cows, he had simply made the hooves black squares that allowed the craft to stand on the ground, or at the very least wobble. The head of the craft was of course in the shape of a bulls head, long horns protruded from either side, with a golden cow bell dangling from it, about half the size of the Liberty Bell, and missing its famous crack. And then, from either side of the ship shot out huge obtuse rockets, that resembled missiles that started thin at the front but widened out to the size of a cantaloupe. Their color matched the rest of the ship. At the top of the craft where a cows spine might be was a crater, and inside were two leather sofas facing each other, both a plain black.

Steven surveyed his work with a frown. "This definitely won't become our full-time ride... Too obvious." Steven glanced at the dinosaur, that had more or less become his ally. Did he intend to have them found by all the police in the area. A giant flying rainbow cow was hard to miss.

"Well, we must be going on, Lida will probably be going stir crazy by now, and I would hate to miss that." Steven poked the little dinosaur, Jeremy, and instantly, he was sitting in his own personal leather chair facing the creature on his opposite side. Above his head, with the sluggishness of a snail in the Olympics, a curved blue dome cut the outside world away from the inside of the cow ship. "Well, Jeremy, now we are safe, which means I can tell you everything... Almost everything. Some of it." he said, bumbling through this conversation, he couldn't really identify which was appropriate to say at this point, and what was supposed to be a secret. He didn't discuss this stuff with Lida, it just sort of... unfolded, which led to mass confusion and befuddlement. "An easy way to say this is, we're assembling a group with some special skills with a common goal. You've obviously been to Sigma, correct?" he continued on without stopping for Chobo to answer his questioned, "Well, it's in shambles now. How do I know this? Everyone in the Fandor's does, its common knowledge, it's just impossible for us to do anything about it. The Fandor's' are controlled by a central government that is... shifty to say the least.

"They refuse to help Sigma because they think if they destroy the UWUC, that they can take power over the galaxy. Well... I personally believe that doing away with the UWUC would be a good thing, there are plenty of innocent people there, and I think I can help them. Help the whole world, actually. The plan is too complicated to just outright spell out right now, but I think I've given you the gist of it, correct? Yes." he said, folding his leg over his thigh, and folding his hands together with a smile.

"Oh, yes. Flight." he said with a nod, remembering his originally intention which was to escape this place. Though he had honestly just forgotten all of his haste and gotten caught up in the discussion. Albeit one-sided. He snapped his fingers, and the result was instantaneousness, the rockets to the right and left of the cow ship, pumped out long columns of orange flames that set light to the jungle around the craft. Steven smiled, as the cow legs retracted, now the ship was more like a round pod with a cow shaped figure head. But now that it wasn't latched to the ground, it practically leaped forward. The ship was the exact opposite of aerodynamic, and so it seemed to leapfrog over the forest before crashing back into the ground and then jumped yet again into the air, only to hit the ground again. It was an altogether bumpy ride. Steven's frown behind big black sunglasses was obvious. He stared directly at Chobo the whole time, even though he slid around the ship as it crashed and leaped.

The huge potholes it left behind would be enormous, and an easy way to distinguish where the murderers had gone. Steven adjusted his glasses, feeling as if he were stuck on the worlds biggest metal bull, that kept taking a header into the dirt. "Chobo, I really don't like your choice." he said bluntly, the odd ship would most likely make a bigger battleship than a civilian craft. But there was nothing Steven could do about it, he was a man of his word, and he had promised that Chobo would be able to pick the ship that they used. So what if this thing was the opposite of stealth. So what if it couldn't fly because it was so oddly shaped. So what if this was the worst creation he had ever conjured up, right down to the mooing cow horn. It was what Chobo had wanted.

Wow. Amazing. The kid actually made the thing! Honestly, he didn't think he would. It was just so incredibly... Well... Stupid! A rainbow cow? What kind of crap was that? While it wasn't too showy, it still was just so... Ugh, well, at least he knew Steven kept his word, no questions asked. Just a mumble of complaint and he went with it. The only problem was that the thing was some kind of car contraption... He imagined it as a live cow.

Well, whatever. He'd made the thing maybe he could make something else? Well, probably, if he weren't suddenly in the thing. Chobo frowned for a second, stuck in this metal, flimsy death trap that was bound to explode and kill them. Before he could give an ounce of protest Steven started to speak about... This something or another. It was somewhat interesting as it concerned why he was a rescued captive, but he was inclined not to listen when the explanation started out with, "a group with some special skills". A group with special skills? When was he teleported into the Justice League? Or just some other book tale about teenagers saving the world or whatever garbage someone could think up. This guy was some kind of fanatic, wasn't he? What else kind of person acted like that? Probably a slightly insane one, but... Steven didn't look it.

What brought his attention back, somewhat, was the mention of Sigma. In shambles? How? When...? He barely remembered the place, honestly. It had been a long time since he'd been there. He'd only spent a little over a month there before he was taken to the hospital and ultimately here. For it to be destroyed? How long had he been gone? And the other humans, they were dead as well? But... if the humans were on Sigma, then how did Steven...? He couldn't have asked if he wanted to, because Steven went on with his little story anyways. Talking about UWUC (which Chobo hardly remembered who that was) and how people were dying and such like some kind of political activist trying to overthrow this person or another. Chobo couldn't say he really cared about what the UWUC was doing or whoever "they" were. Right now he was kind of enjoying not being in a death camp for a hospital and this whole destruction of Sigma and mission stuff was starting to make him think that his tortured ignorance was a better alternative.

Thinking about it made him more unnerved about this new world than he had been before. He wasn't given a chance to eventually adjust to the hustle and bustle of intergalactic life. Instead, he was isolated in a prison where it seemed all his initial fears were a reality. How could he expect anything less than a planet being destroyed from--what he assumed to be--some alien attack? The hows and the whys came at him at light speed and it was impossible to shoo them away. As much as it made him feel guilty, he couldn't help but count his blessings. He had always cursed his illness for all the problems (though most of it was directed towards the explosion of Earth) that he had gone through and now, ironically, it had saved his life. While he never believed that "God works in mysterious ways" drabble, he found it curious and funny how this turned out.

But still, with the ordeal hanging in his thoughts he decided not to comment on it and instead waited for this cattle ride to start, which it did shortly. Unfortunately, the smooth cruise through the air that he imagined wasn't at all what he got. The first leap of the robotic cow lurched his body, slamming his head against the front. He winced from the strong pain. He put his hand on his head, as he tried to clear his mind past the pain.
Couldn't have made this thing with cushioned walls...? Chobo blinked as dark spots flickered in his vision and his head spun wildly and his stomach churned from the descent into free fall. For the quick seconds before their land on the ground he nearly glanced at the white haired boy briefly, who glared at him as if it was his fault this thing ran like a piece of shit. Chobo looked at him confused because, in the glance he looked like a complete stranger. He'd remembered what he'd done and what he said, but for some reason the name of this... whoever-he-was, escaped his mind completely, but the answer, he knew, was so close. He just had to do a bit more thinking. Who is that? The thought was jarred from his mind when the cow machine contraption landed into the ground and he felt his bottom rise up briefly from its seat just to be forced back down from a collision to his back.

Chobo bit his tongue to stop the cry from escaping his throat. His back went aflame with pain that the walls of the mad-spring caused when they smacked onto the odd spikes that jutted from his back, which, in reality, was his spine (the ones that stuck from his head, however, were made out of some unknown substance). He held his head with both hands this time, gripping into his skin with his bony claws in some effort to drive away the pain. Late, he noticed that he was glaring over at Steven--whom he recognized now as if he'd never forgotten--his eyes blazing a message that cursed his reasoning behind not adding seat belts or, in the least, not making the damned cow a death trap! Whose big idea was it to make this thing as functional as a retarded monkey? Certainly not his. He cursed himself now for testing Steven instead of just asking for some car or... Just anything, but this! A drill would have better than this!

"Chobo, I really don't like your choice," he heard Steven say as he slid back towards the end he had slammed his head against.

"I didn't imagine--," the violence of the killer cow thrust him back to the other side of the maddened vehicle, "--you would do it." Really, he expected, in the least, a question or hesitation. Chobo groaned as he was tossed around with each jump and landing, his stomach no longer agreeing with his new activity. He placed a hand on his protruding belly with a grimacing countenance. Through his thin skin he could feel the bump of his own intestine, which coiled around stomach and organs in their bunched and crowded beds, and from the touch he was unexcited about whatever he could feel traveling around there and was sure he'd see it in a moment if this constant rocking and jarring persisted. "So this... Lida," he managed to say through groan, "she's not--," he shuddered as acidic bile began to creep up his throat, "--far from here, right?"

"Very far." he said, in a monotone, which was uncharacteristic of the positively 'fabulous' boy, who always had a flashy way of doing things. Steven looked at Chobo with a forlorn stare that was eerie at the very least. "She's cute too." he stated, attempting to make conversation of this awkward moment, he smiled, "She's adopted. She's nothing like me. Way to serious, a bit of a freak to. By the way, if you hear a voice in your head, it's cool. It's just her reading your mind. 'Cos she can do stuff like that..."

[Thread End... Please!?]