Chapter Text
The world around him was still and silent, nothingness and everything all at once. It felt as though he had been in this state forever, or he’d just woken up from a long and well deserved rest. Laziness overtook him as he merely existed in this space, suspended and immobile, eyes closed and basking in peace. Each breath came with ease and tranquility.
In an instant, the world was inverted and an airlock had been opened. This feeling of contentment was violently ripped from him. No longer supported, he was suddenly hurling forward without direction. The sharp contrast to his previous state rendered him delirious and panicked.
The frantic lights and pockets of time around him were distorted and strange. The sounds, a cacophony of surging electricity and fragments of long forgotten speech, were excruciating. Everything was wrong and out of place. The nausea that rose within was all consuming and his heart pounded so forcibly he could feel it in his teeth. There was a tearing sensation spreading through his arm, then something breaking free and being lost behind him.
The crushing, oppressive weight in his chest threatened to expand and rupture within. It filled him entirely and he could not breathe. Trails of disembodied colors bled around him, through him. He felt as if he were helplessly paralyzed and continuously falling into this great white abyss.
He could not see- the was light too much, the sounds too deafening. His ears rang and rendered him deaf to the dissonance around him. Stabbing pangs of anger, of bitterness, all of his moral ugliness, burrowed through his core to lay upon that burning sensation in his throat.
In that series of seemingly endless moments, Nefarious was certain he was going to die.
He gasped loudly and fell to the ground as he was essentially spit out of an unstable portal. It disappeared behind him with a surge and took with it the deafening disarray of sound. After a few moments he began to regain his senses, but he soon became aware of his own pained wheezing as he struggled to roll onto his side and assess himself.
His armor was ruined, buckled and bowed, and nearly torn in half. Another moment later and he would have been vaporized by the velocity of the continuum. He cradled his head to soothe the throbbing ache, its power immense and debilitating at its peak. Every coherent thought he had was drawn from him and left nothing behind. In the midst of this, Tropy attempted to get to his knees but found himself missing a vital component and fell back into the dirt.
This was so undignified, humiliating , but he was alone for the moment and indulged in his self pity. Every inch of him burned and ached, every muscle was screaming for rest. He winced again at the pain in his arm and chanced a glance down. He furrowed his brow and looked away, defeated, angry.
Of course.
There was a generous amount of blood coating him that mixed with the soot and dirt he lay upon. Tropy grunted as he slowly managed to set up to examine the damage. He propped himself against a nearby tree and rolled up his sleeve with gritted teeth, hissing quiet profanities as he did so.
His left arm below the elbow was obliterated. Most of it had been torn off and what dangled behind was nothing more than a stub of the metal skeleton and delicate wires. His protective gauntlet must have been what gave in to the pressure. Part of it lay beside him in a crumpled heap. He swallowed hard as he looked over himself, his vision slowly coming back into focus. Other than blunt trauma, a potential concussion, and having his arm amputated for the third time, he had made it out rather alright. He used the term 'alright' very loosely.
His armor was no better and it hung off him awkwardly.The large, vibrant clock cracked and shattered, and the hinges could no longer close properly. The metal was twisted, the locks warped and deformed from excessive exposure to cycling chill and heat, and ever present duress. There was no buzzing warmth or electricity, no deep, comforting pressure to nestle within his chest. It was cold, heavy, and nearly pinned him to the ground. More stressful was the fact his suit was also his only protection, his only means of life support and stability, and now it was destroyed. Nefarious was suddenly extremely vulnerable.
He swallowed hard and breathed deeply, closing his eyes and resting his head against the tree. He was, effectively, marooned until he could get to a laboratory. Without his gear functioning, time travel was impossible. He could neither mend wrongs nor create them. The longer he processed this new found helplessness, the more his anger at the situation ebbed towards dread. This had never happened before, save for his Time Twister years ago. But even then, he was not stranded in some alien timeline. Nefarious opened his eyes and blearily looked around him.
Despite its impractical location, a forest was a tranquil area for his spontaneous appearance. The ground nearby was now barren, charred and smoldering from his arrival. Thick vegetation and leaves surrounded him, and the towering trees overhead were soothing with their enchanting wavering shadows. Their kind branches shielded his eyes and the sweet, humid air made him drunk and woozy. However, this could also be due to the fact he had been stretched the length of the universe and was potentially slowly bleeding to death. The latter musing brought a pained smirk to his face. Time was not on his side right now and he needed to move, but standing proved difficult.
He was weary and disoriented, his helmet having come loose and been lost during his misdirection. Is that what had happened? Is that why everything was so hazy? Tropy stared ahead with a confused glare, as though the gentle trees themselves would offer him wisdom. He had no memory of how he’d gotten here, or the events leading up to it. All that was and ever had been seemed to be oblivion and the turbulent wormhole that had literally pulled him apart from its force.
Ruminating about this right now was impractical and he did his best to distance himself from the metaphorical tail chase of figuring out his current paradox. He was growing too comfortable here and needed to find some means of help, or at least shelter until dawn. Clumsily, he shifted all of his weight against the tree and used it as a means of support. His legs wobbled unsteadily as he struggled to find his footing.
With a great deal of effort, he finally heaved himself forward. His body disagreed with this and responded with alarming queasiness, so it seemed he would maintain this position a while, too. At least he was halfway there, he mused. Better to go at it slow. He was going into this reality totally blind. Without his scanners or set coordinates, there was no means to figure out how or where he was. Minutes felt like they melted into hours as he regained his composition.
After several failed attempts, he managed to finally get to his feet and remain stable, though shaky. He was quickly reminded of his arm, the dangling metal and wires catching in the brush around him and painfully pulling him back. He laughed, exasperated, as he looked around, as if expecting someone to help him, or to be watching his plight. It wasn't everyday the proud and great Nefarious Tropy was a sitting duck. The growing lack of power and influence elicited nothing but animosity and unease.
"Alright, just... pull it..." He muttered harshly, stumbling as he freed himself of the snaring branches and sighed with wavering breath at another sharp, tingling pain that made him feel dizzy. When that sensation dissipated he was left with unbridled ferocity at his situation and kicked at the melted scrap around him. He was overwhelmed and so completely out of his element.
Everything was so deeply wrong and out of order. This entire situation was out of his hands and he didn’t know how to cope with this. There needed to be order and precision, absolute control , and right now he had none of that. He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, trying to scratch an internal mental itch that would not abate, then looked around for anything to stop the blood from his arm and cradle the sensitive wires connected to his nerves and tendons. He decided to forsake his burnt and tattered lab coat as a makeshift dressing. One of the sleeves managed as a tourniquet, though he struggled to give it any substantial tightness.
Nefarious sighed shakily, his eyes rolling in his head at another wave of vertigo. He drew in a deep breath to steady himself and looked down to admire his work. His arm was wrapped and the connectors he was able to salvage were safely nestled within the confines of their fabric cast. Red splotches were slowly growing but it would subside with time. Arm addressed and the sad remains of his gauntlet collected, he set out with no true direction or plan.
What a sight he must be as he staggered through the woods. He was a spindly giant with gaudy, deformed bronze adornments hanging off him that clanged and scraped against trees noisily as he struggled to balance himself. He knew he looked worn and haggard, and he was. He had no idea how long he had been in the vortex, but he was certain he would have had another white streak in his hair to tell of his mistake, if he had any left.
As he cautiously walked through the wilderness, signs of life became apparent. Typically, this elated him. It was something new to poke and prod at, a fun new toy to throw infinite scenarios at for his own curiosity and enjoyment. But that was when he was at his peak. Right now, he was reminded more of his first expedition, and that same helpless feeling twisted sharply in his gut. Perhaps it was his own nervous, but he was unable to shake the impression that something was watching him.
His ears buzzed, jaw clenched as he continuously scanned the area. The deeper into these woods he went, the more curious, and wary, he became. Remains of meals and campfires seemed relatively fresh, and confirmed there was definitely something, or someone, living in the area. He hurried his pace as dusk was soon upon him, and he was in no condition to confront any sort of creature.
Tropy reasoned he’d been walking for hours by this point. The sky was a myriad of orange and red as the sun sunk further into the distant mountains. Night would fall soon, and that would prove exponentially more dangerous. His body begged for rest but he pushed forward, that creepy feeling against the back of his neck helping to propel him. He continued walking, mind focused solely on each footstep, his heart skipping on the occasion he heard a rogue third footfall outside of his own rhythm. Be it his delirium or something truly after him, he would not stop to look.
His perseverance paid off and a surge of hope rushed through him as came to a clearing, giving him a second wind. Finally, he could see the lay of the land rather than just a small pocket between the trees. He reasoned he was potentially on an island, given the endless body of water surrounding him. Something strange above drew his gaze and halted his journey.
Up in the sky, he saw the outline of something familiar, something that took a moment to gauge if it was truly there or just a mirage. With much scrutiny, he determined it was not a figment. It was as he thought- Cortex’s airship. Though it was something he’d never actually seen afloat, it was certainly something he’d been acquainted with. When he’d pop into the castle now and again, he would sometimes see the sad deflated remains tucked into a storage facility in the back, or seen the occasional photo hanging on the wall, but nothing more.
He stared up at the distant glorified balloon for a while, the sight of it sending something foreign through him- uncertainty. Again, this cemented into him that he had absolutely no idea where, or when, he was. There were no familiar landmarks to go by, save for this stupid airship with an enormous N patched onto the sides.
He wasn’t necessarily one to believe in cosmic intervention, but he did believe that things do happen for a reason. Usually, the reason was him, but of all the places to be dropped off out of a spiraling death vortex, he’d ended up here in this particular spot, close to Cortex. That little gremlin was the last person he wanted to ask for help… perhaps dying on this island wouldn’t be a terrible alternative- he’d had a pretty good run up until this point, after all.
The doctor shook his head with a heavy sigh as he weighed his options, but he knew he had little choice if he wanted to survive. The thought of groveling to Cortex, and also being indebted to him, rooted him in place. Surely there was someone else...
Nefarious perked up, a new breath of life pulsed through his chest and drew him forward on his feet, dragging him onward like a dog on a leash. Of course, it was so simple! If Cortex was here, that means that Uka Uka would also be present. Where one was, the other would follow.
The mask had helped him before, and vice versa. He had no doubt the entity would aid him now. Yes, he was certain of it. Even were it to be before he, himself, and Cortex formally met, it would still lead him straight to Uka. Renewed hope invigorated him and carried him forward, legs moving at their own pace and of their own will without any guidance from their owner. The sight of the airship disappeared under the canopy of trees as he entered another densely forested area, but he could still make out its whereabouts through the gaps.
It was darker here than the previous area and his confidence withered ever slightly and anxiety bloomed from its remains. Snapping twigs and rustling leaves aside, he could sense some kind of general presence around him. In his elevated state, sounds and sensations became more pronounced and almost distressingly vivid.
The pain his his arm was momentarily forgotten, every nerve in his body bathed in a cold flame. Something in him wanted to stop and hide, and in any situation that is exactly what he would do, but that option was not available to him now. His safe haven of the Time Twister was completely inaccessible, and may as well not even exist. This was the first instance he could recall in decades he could not turn and simply leave when he grew bored or nervous.
He exhaled deeply, willing to extinguish these unfamiliar feelings like a candle with one, sudden rush. He couldn’t allowed himself to get caught up in these thoughts and trapped in his own head, it was fruitless and did nothing but waste his precious time. Tropy huffed, then it slowly dawned upon him that he had been gazing ahead during his tangent, and walked aimlessly through the brush. He looked up through the trees and could see nothing but the faint beginnings of stars.
A faint ‘oh’ croaked out of him as he took a step back, bobbing and weaving through the branches to try and catch a glimpse of the airship and orient himself. He turned around, scanning the area frantically- everything looked the same. He hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings, if anything he’d done all he could to ignore them and focus on the man made north star. He was disappointed and angry with himself, but self depreciation could come later. With a gulp he tried to find a center and stop tumultuous ideas before they truly started. He began by counting various things around him, counting the sweat droplets that were rolling down his face and disappeared in the hollows of his cheeks. He counted into the hundreds, thousands, as he seemingly turned in place and tried to orient himself.
He now counted the stars in the sky that were suddenly around him, beautiful glowing, flashing stars that flitted playfully from left to right. He was encapsulated by them and followed after the display clumsily through the darkness. The performance put him in mind of the bottom of the Time Twister, the inky black ocean filled with the perpetual glittering lights and sparkles of another world. It was beautiful and commanded all of his attention. It was uncertain how long he stood there marveling at the otherworldly cosmos, but just being in their presence stilled every nervous idea and indecision that lingered close by.
The cool sensation had slowly spread and enveloped him. It was more frigid than space ever was, but simultaneously lulled him to rest, to find a warm soft place to curl up. It was soothing and inviting, and he leaned against one of the nearby trees, a groggy murmur of nonsense drifting out of him. The doctor looked up again at the array of twinkling yellows and blues drifting around him, some landing on his legs. It now registered that he’d been sitting on the ground. For how long?
His conscious returned and he looked down at his arm- at least it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Exhaustion ravaged his body, however, and he kept finding his eyes wandering back to the hypnotizing glow of the fireflies. The longer he stared, the more colors they produced, and the more time slowed. Soon, beautiful speckles and trails of luminescent rainbows danced all around him until they stopped entirely. Time was frozen, he willed himself to reach out and touch one of the colored streaks and shatter it like an icicle, but he couldn't follow through with the action.
All sensations were lost to fatigue and he relaxed into the tree. Even after closing his eyes, he could still see the remains of the light show, traces of purple and green rapidly moving as he tried to focus on them. Soon they faded and disappeared without him noticing as he yielded to the inviting comfort of rest. He resided himself to be content that locating Uka would have to wait, whether he wanted it to or not. Before drifting off completely, rustling branches could be heard, and he was enclosed within the distinctive, and familiar, smell of exhaust and gunpowder.