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And so, The Dark Lord died. With an explosion.
Yeah, that was fine by him. He’d much rather not die, of course, but if he had to, he might as well go out with a bang. What was not fine was him getting so utterly humiliated by a child. A random kid that came out of nowhere. Alright, maybe not completely random or out of nowhere and sure, it being his brother did explain some things, but it was a sticking child. He had no right destroying his amazing plans like he did. He had thought of everything, planned for every possibility, even accounting for Chosen having turned soft, all except for this. How was he supposed to expect a superpowered child and his colorful bunch of miscreants?
He felt his mind slipping in and out of consciousness as he lay numb in the dirt, the energy still vibrating all around him. It didn’t hurt. It was far beyond the point of hurting. He couldn’t see anything either way. Only flashes he was pretty sure were tricks of his failing mind, memories of things that had happened long ago. They say the dying see flashes of their life before their eyes. Well, if anyone was wondering, he could confirm that much.
Yes, this was Chosen there, in his tattered clothes, on the day they first came to the Outernet. It was one of the rare moments back then when he smiled. And that one, that was during the Newgrounds attack, when he’d blasted a girl trapped under some wreckage. Yeah, that day was fun. Welp, it was a good run and he supposed all great things had to end sometime. His awareness of his own thoughts withered as his last vestiges of power dried out.
Being what he was, it was much harder for him to fully die, which did give him this little extra time, even though in his situation, his power wouldn’t heal him. He still wished he didn’t have to go by that blasted kid—
Was he imagining things again, or did this suddenly start to hurt? A lot. Yeah, he was probably dying, for real this time.
But the pain kept rising to excruciating levels. Not that he couldn’t handle it, of course. But wasn’t death supposed to entail losing all feeling? Why, then, could he now feel the dirt beneath his fingers? Why could he feel this tingling pulse inside of him, thrumming through his code?
Suddenly, he could hear it. The screeching, the unmistakable squeaking. The pulse came to a crescendo and he gasped. He snapped his eyes open to be greeted by one of his Virabots’ metal snouts right over his face. He grinned and shot up. Or at least tried to, before the pain returned to him, making him gasp.
Remaining down, but still grinning like a maniac despite how much it hurt, he managed to brush his hand over the mechanical spider by his side. Had they really fixed him up? That was beyond anything he’d ever thought to program them for, beyond even the realm of things he’d merely considered. He had obviously never expected to die!
Then again, he had experience with things overriding their programming.
“Oh, you majestic creations of mine!” he whispered. “You wonderful creatures!”
Then he froze. His body was full of scars from having been stitched together. He could only imagine what he looked like when the Virabots first found him.
But that wasn’t the weird part. Starting from below the elbow, his forearms were almost entirely blackened by… something, which seemed to vaguely turn into liquid at the tips of his fingers. Dark looked from his arm to the Virabot and instantly understood. That pulsing… yes, it made sense. They had merged the bands to his flesh, allowing him to survive on their energy. He could admit, the upgrade looked really cool on him.
Besides, if his assumptions were right, then… well, it was no use trying it out now, in his state. He was alive, sure, but that didn’t mean he was good for anything just yet. A little pain was nothing to him, but he would need to endure far more than a little to manage any movement bigger than a flick of his wrist.
“Well, I’m gonna need some help over here,” he said to the bots, who were quick to obey and carry him out of this sticking place, to the more secure location of his secret cave. Not even Chosen knew about that one, which was fortunate. He would likely just think him completely evaporated by the blast.
Good. That would make his upcoming surprise all the more sweet for Dark. After all, surprises have always been his forte.
It was night, but Dark wasn’t sure of what day. Odd how quickly time could pass when you were lying in death’s embrace. Now, laid on the floor of his cave as he was, he sent the Virabots on their way to do some scouting in the area all the way to Stick City while he was recuperating. One of them lingered, however. The prototype, the original Virabot he ever made, the one everyone else was a copy of. It screeched something at him.
Dark smiled at it. “Don’t you worry, Ted. I’ll find him and I’ll kill him. And this time, no type of revival, life magic or the like will be able to salvage him from how thoroughly I’m about to deal with him and all his useless friends.” He thought of Chosen, his traitor brother, the coward who’d turned against him to side with him of all people, despite everything they’d ever stood for, the countless nights spent cursing his name. “First though… Well, there is another I’ve been meaning to destroy.”
He needed time, of course. He had been given a second chance and he needed to make sure not to waste it. But he never did mind a little waiting if it meant having time to make a plan, this time completely immune to any powerful children. And, if you asked him, he had always been amazing at planning.