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I found this while looking through my folder of scrapped BZPB projects and decided to polish this up a bit and post it. Inspired by Klak's re-introduction in BZPB Reborn 2.20, I decided to attempt a similar style of post that would re-introduce the RBU version of Kakamu in first-person perspective, but for one reason or another, I never managed to finish it. Fight or Flight details what happened to the Reborn Universe's version of Kakamu since the last time we saw him in BZPB Reborn, and in the ten years that passed between BZPBR and BZPB 2.20: The Fire Rises. Don't worry if you didn't read the posts that starred him in BZPB Reborn; you don't need to to understand this tale.
As you can see, this tale is not complete, but I might post a "Part 2" at a later date if there is demand for one.
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<10 AR - Present Day>
Once again I feel pointless thoughts churning in my head. The metaphorical gears that operate my mind just won't stop turning, no matter how many times I try to will them not to. I relax myself, hoping to enter into an endless sleep, but every time I wake to find myself floating in the same black expanse with nothing but my thoughts and the stars to gaze upon again. Some days, if I am lucky, I wake to find myself facing the opposite direction and am greeted by the surface of my world instead. But what good is it if I cannot feel its grass, breathe its air, or see the face of my son?
My name is Kakamu, and for what feels like forever, I have been trapped in some kind of void; an infinite black expanse in which time, life, and gravity seemingly have no meaning. For ages I have been floating above the moon of Nil'nara, the lush paradise that birthed my people, the Tekkui race. Although I recognize some of the patterns on its surface as continents from maps I once studied, Nil'nara now takes the appearance of a sphere, as does the world it orbits, instead of the flat green country I knew. During my exile, I have witnessed the sphere of Nil'nara rotate several times, showing me every land that made up my world.
The days that I do not spend memorizing every detail of my world are spent facing in the other direction, towards the stars and the infinite dark. Too often I feel like my mind is about to break, that the sheer boredom alone will be enough to push me to the point of insanity, but every time I feel myself about to cross that threshold my mind snaps back to how it was before. Obviously, the gods, if there are such things, will not allow me the luxury of insanity; to free myself from the agonizing monotony of the same thoughts day after day. At this point I would almost welcome it.
Some days I think, "How can I be unsure of the existence of a god if I met the one that trapped me here?", but then I remind myself of what that self-proclaimed "god" did to my people. He called himself "Serecio". For years he and his alien minions, the Arokazek, had been abducting my people and fusing metal to their skin just to see what would happen. Results were mixed: Some, like the ones calling themselves the "Yerta", benefited greatly from their new abilities, while the bodies of others violently rejected their "enhancements" and suffered horrible deaths. I was fortunate enough to fall into the former category, and yet, despite receiving the ability to cast fire from my hands, something is terribly wrong: I am utterly unable to die - permanently, at least. In this place, there is no air, food, or water, yet I still crave them. Without air, I choke, and without food, I starve, yet every time I die I wake as if I had just suffered a horrible nightmare, only to find that I am still here, alive and well - relatively speaking, of course.
When I was a young man I had an obsession with the stars. Something about them caught my interest and never let go. I dedicated my life to astronomy, hoping that one day I would find myself among the stars and fly between them to see what lied beyond my humble home. Perhaps it is ironic, then, that I should suffer such a curse. I can only hope the same does not happen to my beloved son, Trantoshen. It is doubly ironic given the meaning of his name in our language: Tran- beyond; to-shen - the stars.
I suppose it is because of Trantoshen that I am here. Though I usually loathe revisiting the same memories again and again, there is one I must constantly revise in all its details: the memory of the day I arrived here. It may just hold the key to escaping this nightmare... or perhaps I finally am going insane after all.
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<0 AR - Ten Years Ago>
I don't know how long ago it was now, it's impossible to tell. Probably long enough for my son to have grown from a child into a man. Precious years I will never get to witness.
I remember that it was on the same day that my father, the Savant of my village, laid on his deathbed. He called me to his side and put his hand on the metal plate that the Arokazek savages had cemented into my face. He told me that it was not my fault that my mate, Parati, lost her mind and chased her visions into the wilderness. He told me that he still had much wisdom left to impart, that there were secrets to this world that must be shared before they were lost forever. But above all, he told me I was a hero, and that with the time between Arokazek visits ever decreasing, I would soon have a chance to prove it to myself if no-one else. So I did.
I immediately mounted my loyal steed Marasu and set out in search of glory. When we heard the warning horn, an omen of the Arokazek's imminent arrival, we spun around and rode towards the village. The billowing tower of smoke rising over the horizon told us that we were already too late. An Arokazek battleship hovered over the burning buildings of our neighbours' settlements while the Arokazek themselves collected the bodies of their victims. With great caution, we travelled down a hidden path that allowed us to approach the village unseen.
When we reached the village, I dismounted Marasu and crouched behind the nearest building, hoping to eavesdrop on the Arokazek and possibly learn something to use against them. Until this point, I never did understand how they were able to communicate with us, or why - they were from a different world, after all - but it would soon become clear. When I moved beneath the nearest open window, I heard the rasping, evil voice of an Arokazek converse with a voice I knew all too well: the voice of King Koranis, the Tekkui noble who had been elected to lead us through these dark times.
"WHAT?!" Koranis shouted, his voice full of anger and desperation. "You never said anything about killing! I only let you take troublesome villagers from time to time because you always return them ALIVE-"
"And because we offer you a handssssome reward..."
It was at this point that I dared to peer into the window to see the horrors to which the Arokazek referred. The creature, and King of Nil'nara, were both staring at the latter's hands. With the various consequences of Koranis's treachery rushing through my mind, I fully expected the hands of our King to be soaked in blood, but instead I found that he no longer had hands at all. Instead, they had been replaced with elaborate metal gauntlets that glowed with rainbow-colored light. As far as I were concerned, it was blood all the same.
"Handsssssome rewards ...and because you have no choicccce." The Arokazek continued. Its silver fangs glinted in the light as it toyed with a scimitar-like weapon in one of its four bony hands.
"Fool! You've given me all the choice I need!", Koranis spat.
He raised both of his gauntlets at the Arokazek and a buzzing sound filled the air as he powered them up. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prick up, caused both by the fear of the Arokazek and the spread of the gauntlets' energy through the air towards me. Our King gave a triumphant grin - no, it not triumphant, it was more like a grin of someone mad with power than of a cunning warrior - as he aimed them at the Arokazek. He thrust them forward, as if intending to release the gauntlets' light to attack his enemy, but nothing happened. Instead, the gauntlets made a strange whirring noise and began to crumple, crushing Koranis's hands. Our King cried out in agony as he saw how quickly gifts in our world could turn into curses.
Meanwhile, the Arokazek smiled triumphantly - YES, triumphantly - and stepped forward. "Sssssuch a shame," it hissed as it swiped its scimitar across Koranis's neck. A thin streak of blood splattered across the glass pane of the window in front of my eyes. I stumbled backwards in shock, barely able to comprehend the horror of the situation. While I sat there traumatized, I heard Koranis's body collapse against the floor. I remember praying to the gods that this was all a horrible fever dream, hoping against hope that this day could not get any worse.
But it did.
Amid the chaos, I heard another voice call out to me: the voice of my son. I snapped to attention and stood, using every bit of willpower I had left not to panic. Marasu must have heard the cry too: he leaped to his feet in that moment and rushed up to me, reminding me of his existence. His surprised and confused expression confirmed that he had heard the same thing. Trantoshen was near. But how?
As far as I knew, he was in the care of my assistant Mocax back at the observatory, which itself was a few miles out from the village. So how could he be here? It didn't add up; I knew that Mocax would rather give his life than betray me, but then again, I was still reeling from Koranis's own betrayal. Everything that I thought I knew about our society had just been violently turned on its head.
The piercing cries of my son shattered whatever logical thoughts I had and brought me back to the situation at hand. Acting purely on instinct, I drew the Guardian Fire Spear from my sheath, seated myself on Marasu's back and charged into the village looking for blood.
As you can see, this tale is not complete, but I might post a "Part 2" at a later date if there is demand for one.
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Fight or Flight: A BZPB Reborn Story
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<10 AR - Present Day>
Once again I feel pointless thoughts churning in my head. The metaphorical gears that operate my mind just won't stop turning, no matter how many times I try to will them not to. I relax myself, hoping to enter into an endless sleep, but every time I wake to find myself floating in the same black expanse with nothing but my thoughts and the stars to gaze upon again. Some days, if I am lucky, I wake to find myself facing the opposite direction and am greeted by the surface of my world instead. But what good is it if I cannot feel its grass, breathe its air, or see the face of my son?
My name is Kakamu, and for what feels like forever, I have been trapped in some kind of void; an infinite black expanse in which time, life, and gravity seemingly have no meaning. For ages I have been floating above the moon of Nil'nara, the lush paradise that birthed my people, the Tekkui race. Although I recognize some of the patterns on its surface as continents from maps I once studied, Nil'nara now takes the appearance of a sphere, as does the world it orbits, instead of the flat green country I knew. During my exile, I have witnessed the sphere of Nil'nara rotate several times, showing me every land that made up my world.
The days that I do not spend memorizing every detail of my world are spent facing in the other direction, towards the stars and the infinite dark. Too often I feel like my mind is about to break, that the sheer boredom alone will be enough to push me to the point of insanity, but every time I feel myself about to cross that threshold my mind snaps back to how it was before. Obviously, the gods, if there are such things, will not allow me the luxury of insanity; to free myself from the agonizing monotony of the same thoughts day after day. At this point I would almost welcome it.
Some days I think, "How can I be unsure of the existence of a god if I met the one that trapped me here?", but then I remind myself of what that self-proclaimed "god" did to my people. He called himself "Serecio". For years he and his alien minions, the Arokazek, had been abducting my people and fusing metal to their skin just to see what would happen. Results were mixed: Some, like the ones calling themselves the "Yerta", benefited greatly from their new abilities, while the bodies of others violently rejected their "enhancements" and suffered horrible deaths. I was fortunate enough to fall into the former category, and yet, despite receiving the ability to cast fire from my hands, something is terribly wrong: I am utterly unable to die - permanently, at least. In this place, there is no air, food, or water, yet I still crave them. Without air, I choke, and without food, I starve, yet every time I die I wake as if I had just suffered a horrible nightmare, only to find that I am still here, alive and well - relatively speaking, of course.
When I was a young man I had an obsession with the stars. Something about them caught my interest and never let go. I dedicated my life to astronomy, hoping that one day I would find myself among the stars and fly between them to see what lied beyond my humble home. Perhaps it is ironic, then, that I should suffer such a curse. I can only hope the same does not happen to my beloved son, Trantoshen. It is doubly ironic given the meaning of his name in our language: Tran- beyond; to-shen - the stars.
I suppose it is because of Trantoshen that I am here. Though I usually loathe revisiting the same memories again and again, there is one I must constantly revise in all its details: the memory of the day I arrived here. It may just hold the key to escaping this nightmare... or perhaps I finally am going insane after all.
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<0 AR - Ten Years Ago>
I don't know how long ago it was now, it's impossible to tell. Probably long enough for my son to have grown from a child into a man. Precious years I will never get to witness.
I remember that it was on the same day that my father, the Savant of my village, laid on his deathbed. He called me to his side and put his hand on the metal plate that the Arokazek savages had cemented into my face. He told me that it was not my fault that my mate, Parati, lost her mind and chased her visions into the wilderness. He told me that he still had much wisdom left to impart, that there were secrets to this world that must be shared before they were lost forever. But above all, he told me I was a hero, and that with the time between Arokazek visits ever decreasing, I would soon have a chance to prove it to myself if no-one else. So I did.
I immediately mounted my loyal steed Marasu and set out in search of glory. When we heard the warning horn, an omen of the Arokazek's imminent arrival, we spun around and rode towards the village. The billowing tower of smoke rising over the horizon told us that we were already too late. An Arokazek battleship hovered over the burning buildings of our neighbours' settlements while the Arokazek themselves collected the bodies of their victims. With great caution, we travelled down a hidden path that allowed us to approach the village unseen.
When we reached the village, I dismounted Marasu and crouched behind the nearest building, hoping to eavesdrop on the Arokazek and possibly learn something to use against them. Until this point, I never did understand how they were able to communicate with us, or why - they were from a different world, after all - but it would soon become clear. When I moved beneath the nearest open window, I heard the rasping, evil voice of an Arokazek converse with a voice I knew all too well: the voice of King Koranis, the Tekkui noble who had been elected to lead us through these dark times.
"WHAT?!" Koranis shouted, his voice full of anger and desperation. "You never said anything about killing! I only let you take troublesome villagers from time to time because you always return them ALIVE-"
"And because we offer you a handssssome reward..."
It was at this point that I dared to peer into the window to see the horrors to which the Arokazek referred. The creature, and King of Nil'nara, were both staring at the latter's hands. With the various consequences of Koranis's treachery rushing through my mind, I fully expected the hands of our King to be soaked in blood, but instead I found that he no longer had hands at all. Instead, they had been replaced with elaborate metal gauntlets that glowed with rainbow-colored light. As far as I were concerned, it was blood all the same.
"Handsssssome rewards ...and because you have no choicccce." The Arokazek continued. Its silver fangs glinted in the light as it toyed with a scimitar-like weapon in one of its four bony hands.
"Fool! You've given me all the choice I need!", Koranis spat.
He raised both of his gauntlets at the Arokazek and a buzzing sound filled the air as he powered them up. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prick up, caused both by the fear of the Arokazek and the spread of the gauntlets' energy through the air towards me. Our King gave a triumphant grin - no, it not triumphant, it was more like a grin of someone mad with power than of a cunning warrior - as he aimed them at the Arokazek. He thrust them forward, as if intending to release the gauntlets' light to attack his enemy, but nothing happened. Instead, the gauntlets made a strange whirring noise and began to crumple, crushing Koranis's hands. Our King cried out in agony as he saw how quickly gifts in our world could turn into curses.
Meanwhile, the Arokazek smiled triumphantly - YES, triumphantly - and stepped forward. "Sssssuch a shame," it hissed as it swiped its scimitar across Koranis's neck. A thin streak of blood splattered across the glass pane of the window in front of my eyes. I stumbled backwards in shock, barely able to comprehend the horror of the situation. While I sat there traumatized, I heard Koranis's body collapse against the floor. I remember praying to the gods that this was all a horrible fever dream, hoping against hope that this day could not get any worse.
But it did.
Amid the chaos, I heard another voice call out to me: the voice of my son. I snapped to attention and stood, using every bit of willpower I had left not to panic. Marasu must have heard the cry too: he leaped to his feet in that moment and rushed up to me, reminding me of his existence. His surprised and confused expression confirmed that he had heard the same thing. Trantoshen was near. But how?
As far as I knew, he was in the care of my assistant Mocax back at the observatory, which itself was a few miles out from the village. So how could he be here? It didn't add up; I knew that Mocax would rather give his life than betray me, but then again, I was still reeling from Koranis's own betrayal. Everything that I thought I knew about our society had just been violently turned on its head.
The piercing cries of my son shattered whatever logical thoughts I had and brought me back to the situation at hand. Acting purely on instinct, I drew the Guardian Fire Spear from my sheath, seated myself on Marasu's back and charged into the village looking for blood.
