Joy Pursuit: Steel Dragon [Sci-Fi Fantasy | Horror | Action]

Hissss…

A low, fizzling hiss cut through the purr of the elevator as it descended into the lower levels of the manor. The Hollow's visual module adjusted to the waft of steam rising from Gira's face. The visual display struggled to adjust as the scattered light faintly revealed a crimson set of jaws hiding in the haze.

The Hollow tilted its head, its ear-like probes twisting as the supposed corpse began to convulse. Gira's spine arched—slamming his steaming skull against the stretcher. Arms flailed wildly in the confined space, legs violently kicking against the matted stretcher.

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open, Gira's body spilled out with a harsh thud as he writhed on the floor.

The Hollow carefully slithered out, its logic core studying the surprising behavior of a supposed corpse.

Gira's jaws split open, the force ripping untransformed skin as he let out a horrid animalistic screech. His eyes shot into the back of his head, acidic saliva burning his own flesh, as he rolled around, slamming into the sterile wall of the hallway.

The Hollow quietly scanned the now-still Gira. Towering over him, it pressed a metal claw to the wall above his head as it leaned in. The aperture of its mechanical eye widened. Gira's head had half transformed—a translucent glaze of crimson had consumed it, peeling away his frail humanity and leaving behind a candied skull, mangled and twisted into the malformed visage of Savagrios.

Cracks.

They spread from his jaw as he smiled. The Hollow recoiled as Savagrios dragged himself along the wall, forcing his body upright. His jaws stretched wide, as a hysterical—laugh? howl? wail?—a grotesque croak of sorts sputtered from his throat as he turned to the Hollow.

"We salute you, steel beast." Savagrios said, straightening himself out, body stretching as he grew in size. "Question. Where are we, and how do we get out?"

The Hollow's visual module refocused on Savagrios. "There are several elevators that lead to the upper floors. Though there are also numerous emergency exits."

Savagrios nodded. "Good. Could you point us to the nearest one?"

"Ordinarily, yes. However your presence deviates from expectations. You are an anomaly—one that, in theory, should be reported to a higher authority. Bu—"

Savagrios's visage cracked. "Wai-wait!" He raised his hands. "Higher authority? Like the rangers?"

The Hollow nodded. "Ranger High command, Senior Hollows…or perhaps the Endymion Tarantula itself."

Savagrios stared deep into the Hollow's gaze. We've made it this far… but what now? Could we take this metal beast down? It's rather large, and this place is pretty cramped. There's also the chance it already contacted someone. Or… No. Endymion Constructs aren't simply machines. Is it curious? Could we appeal to it? Should we? He peered into his throne, where Gira and Vaal lay unconscious. … Senior Hollows are probably more involved with Ranger High Command. We can't use much Kyyr either. The bastard that beat Vaal might sense us.

The Hollow's ear probes folded flat against the back of its head as it examined Savagrios. "Query. How are you still… functional? Your operating unit was grievously damaged."

Savagrios was pulled from his thoughts. "…" He tapped his crimson skull. "It's thanks to our biology—and that crazy bastard's idea. Our last memory was Gira forcing calamity growths to form inside our throat and then—black—cold, dead black—and… and a numbness. Intangible. We overcame that senselessness… and now, here we are."

"Peculiar." The Hollow's voice modulator stuttered through static as it studied him. "Query: were you dead?"

Savagrios's crimson visage cracked, letting the shuddering of scales mend with the white noise of the hallway. He shook his head ever so slightly. "No. We were not."

The Hollow spun its head, jaws spreading open as its visual module flashed through a spectrum of colors. "Odd." Its head circled around Savagrios, beams of shifting light playing across his form. "Your designation was Gira Mourns the Coarseblood. However, your current appearance no longer matches the visual or biometric data. I find the inconsistency—amusing."

Savagrios tracked the Hollow's movements as it coiled around him. "Amusing? What do you mean?"

The Hollow halted, its mechanical gaze hovering above him. "My designation is Hollow unit—no. I…I am Carrion. That is…my name." The modulator crackled with distortion. "I have grown bemused by my purpose—endlessly incinerating remains. Human, inhuman. It unsettled me. Query: Why? Why am I here? I wondered. Is this life? If so, I could only hope for termination." Its voice warbled again. "Coarseblood. What is life—to you?"

Savagrios, though featureless, raised an internal brow as he stared into the shifting light, his skull's remnants silhouetted inside the translucent red. "To us…" His hand clenched tight, visage cracking. "Life… life is about moving forward. Onward. Even if there's a wall ahead." Memories stirred—fragments of bygone warmth. "We just want to make it to where the sun might shine."

The Hollow's flashing light froze on a warm orange hue, its metal plates subtly shifting as it slithered forward, lowering its head. The gentle glow dimmed to a muted red. "Amusing…" It murmured through static. "Perhaps, it might be time to cut my strings—" Its head rose, eyes staring into the void of the tall arched ceiling. " Instructions: secure yourself under my frame. Conceal your features. I must perform my final delivery to the furnace… then you are free to leave."

"So you're aiding us?" Savagrios asked, confused. "Why?"

The Hollow tilted its head. "Personal interest."

Savagrios's visage cracked as he grasped the Hollow's frame."What an odd stroke of luck," he muttered, the crimson scales falling away, slowly reconstructing Gira's face as the Hollow slithered down the corridor.

Inside the throne, Gira shot up from the floor, his eyes wide as he looked around. "D-did it work?"

Vaal groaned nearby, sprawled on his back, golden eyes staring into the void above where crimson wounds stitched themselves into black. "Every day I grow to despise you more, you reaving psycho."

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Gira collapsed back onto the floor, relief spreading through him. "Savagrios!" he shouted.

His crimson-eyed self popped up from behind a sofa.

"You did it!" Gira exclaimed. "How are you feeling?"

Savagrios smirked. "Better than dead! It was wise of you to place your hopes on someone as exceptional as us."

Vaal glared at him from the floor. "What's going on out there?"

Savagrios frowned, trying to find the words. "Uhh…We made a friend? Well, sort of. The mechanoid in charge of disposing of our bodies was luckily… unique. Let's leave it at that."

Gira got up. "Unique?" he muttered to himself.

Vaal grumbled, "So what's our plan now? If we get caught we're getting brain-fucked again."

Gira put a hand on his chin, and thought for a second, but there was only one idea that really spoke to him. "We should go back to Krreat! Climb up the towers and hide up there for a while! Lucas said it was abandoned. And…" He rubbed the back of his neck."I've been dying to go there since forever ago."

Vaal rolled his eyes and pushed himself up. "Whatever, at least it's something. Our main goal should be hiding out until we recuperate enough strength to fully transform again. After that we'll be forced to decide how we'll deal with the rangers—and with her…"

Gira looked at him confused. "Her?"

Savagrios cleared his throat. "You two rest up. We shall figure something out."

Gira let out an exhausted sigh, pulling himself up onto a soft red velvet sofa. "Thanks… I think I'm gonna need a second."

Savagrios nodded, draping himself over the back of the sofa. "What about you Vaal?"

"I'm going to check on K and his little problem," he said, walking off into the void.

Gira's hair bits twitched. "What happened with K? Who's her?"

Savagrios hesitated. "Uhhh… you'll see soon enough. We recommend you get some rest while you can."

Gira scowled lightly, then sighed and closed his eyes on the sofa, far too tired to argue or ask any more.

"We'll contact you if anything happens." Savagrios said, his body slumping forward as he exited the throne.

He opened his eyes, body swaying lightly under the shifting metal plates of Carrion as the Hollow exited a large boiling room that echoed with the clang of machinery. Carrion was fast—its mechanical tail propelling them at breakneck speed through the manor's lower halls and out into a sea cave braced with steel supports and humming engines. A few rangers lingered nearby, their heads turning in confusion as the great machine slithered past.

Carrion didn't slow. It glided beneath the white floodlights, past bewildered rangers, and out onto the roaring beach beyond—the sound of wind and surf crashing together, the air sharp with salt and freedom.

"Our journey ends here. Be free, Coarseblood." Carrion said its synthetic voice cutting through the wash of water and sand.

Savagrios held on, "Wait. Carrion—we have a question."

The Hollow inclined its head.

"How far away are we from Krreat?"

"We are roughly 985 kilometers from Krreat, assuming no significant obstructions. A lowglider could complete the trip in approximately five hours. On foot, however, the journey would likely take between 25 and 28 days—depending on your pace and how much time you dedicate to organic processes."

Savagrios groaned, "Ugh… Level with us—do you foresee this escape of ours going unnoticed long enough for us to make the journey?"

"Absolutely not. There are numerous security cameras, and your remains were scheduled for inspection after disposal regardless. You have approximately 20 minutes to escape. I assumed you would transform to facilitate that, no?"

"We wish we could, but our Kyyr reserves are spent. What if we… borrow one of those fancy flying vehicles?"

Carrion processed his words. "A lowglider—yes. That would be your most realistic option. However, a crash or accident, given your lack of experience, would kill you. Logically your best course is to get someone else to pilot for you."

Savagrios thought for a second. "Are you suggesting we take a hostage?"

"It is an option. However, should you be captured, persuasion is safer. Do you have any acquaintances that you could convince?"

Savagrios frowned, thinking. "Nope. Most people avoided us, and the few we interacted with wouldn't be in a position to help."

Carrion crept toward the white stone cliff that formed the manor's spine. "There is one individual we are aware of who might take you. You might even know them already—but their dependability is… questionable."

"Who?" Savagrios asked as Carrion dug its claws deep into the stone, climbing upward.

"Aria Mourns—an odd ranger I've been monitoring for my own amusement." Carrion quickened its crawl as they reached a specialized terrace built for Hollows. "Press yourself close to me. We'll be traversing some tight tunnels."

Savagrios obeyed as Carrion opened a specialized tunnel that was built into the manor's internal architecture. "Aria Mourns… the name sounds familiar, yet we don't believe we've met her."

"She's Bern Mourn's adoptive daughter. She is your senior—though from what I've observed in the last couple days she's a free spirit. Unruly, and considerably lazy in all regards except escaping duty."

"Why were you observing her?" Savagrios asked as Carrion scaled up the bleak, clinical white tunnels that seemingly spread all over the manor like a static nervous system.

"I take interest in observing things I find… interesting—things, like you. As for Aria, I came across her while performing maintenance on the furnace exhaust atop the manor. She'd built a small camp in an alcove near my work site. Out of curiosity, I began monitoring her now and then, but her habits proved dull. She mostly watches media on her crystalcomm—which is not amusing." The two continued their ascent through the tunnels until they emerged onto the manor's roof. The cool night air had a bite to it, and the white manor looked ominous under the red glow. Carrion halted, claws gripping the apex of the structure. "Here is where we part ways. I've been notified the inspection unit is imminent. You have roughly 15 minutes." Carrion helped Savagrios crawl down from its chest. "May we meet again—unburdened, and free to bask where the sun shines brightest."

Savagrios smirked, his crimson eyes gleaming under the lurid red glow of the shattered night sky. "Indeed. May we meet under a blue sky next time."

"Ideally…" Carrion turned, pointing toward a distant tower. "You'll find Aria Mourns hidden near that one." Carrion stared down toward one of the courtyards. "Be quick, Coarseblood." With that, Carrion slithered back down the roof, disappearing into the void of one of the Hollow tunnels.

Savagrios narrowed his eyes, noticing a faint flicker of light in the distance. He took a deep breath as he began his descent down the imposing architecture.

While this unfolded far below Savagrios within the interrogation chamber, Morray and Okari were combing through the Scrutineer's logs trying to figure out what had gone wrong. But the more they investigated, the more bizarre it became.

Morray stared at the black screen lined with streams of "code." ENN.KORR mechanoids operated on multiple semantic levels, making their logic particularly hard to interpret. Their polysemantic language wasn't just complex—it was alien, weaving through meaning and instinct at the same intrinsic level as the human brain itself.

Morray let out a quiet, confused sigh. "Everything is all in order. I highly doubt the Scrutineer killed him."

Okari, who had been leaning over another ranger's shoulder, straightened up. "Check this out." She gestured Morray over. "According to the dynamic brain model we recorded before he died, it looks like his brain was—well—blended. Look here." The monitor displayed a shifting animation: Gira's brain being mapped by the Scrutineer's probes before suddenly twisting and warping into unreadable static.

Morray cocked his head. "If it wasn't the Scrutineer, then…" He turned toward Okari. "You don't think he—"

Okari looked at him wide-eyed.

SKRRRRHHHH—

A harsh scrape cut through the room as the door slid open. A Hollow with a green snout entered, pushing a stretcher.

"I've come to collect the body, where is it?" It tilted its head, its ear probes perking up with the question.

The rangers present went pale as the Hollow spoke.

Its question hit Morray like a bullet to the heart. His pulse stuttered, dread consuming every millimeter of his body as his hand slid down to the cool glass of a small vial on his belt.

The Hollow's ear probes twitched, puzzled by the silence.

"Is there… a problem?"