Just tinkering around with an original universe I've recently thought up. So, my apologies if some of the ideas seem nonsensical.
Ulysses was blind.
He had downed his enemy, but the Velvetyrn Martyr wasn’t dead. He could hear the Martyr’s armor slowly dragging over the rubble, and the muffled grunts of pain coming from inside the bastard’s E.O.V.P. suit. The two had exchanged shots, and his helmet’s optical window had taken the hit. He felt the impact of the round crash against the face of his helmet, shattering the complex system of lenses. By some miracle, the round hadn’t gone clean through his suit, and out the back of his head. He was terrified.
There was no way to know if his suit had been compromised, and if the virus was getting in. He couldn’t tell if his suits grav-systems were still functioning. All he could see was the black void of nothingness. His optic display had gone out with the hit and he had been knocked off his feet onto the ground. His pursuer had chased him after they had parted ways from the battle into a ruined building. The Velvetyrn Martyrdom had never ceased being relentless in their pursuit of ending the rest of humanity, since day one of the E.O.V. Age.
E.O.V, the virus that decimated the world. It had killed off plants and animals alike, simultaneously. The epitome of plague. As outbreaks of disease often had in humanity’s past, E.O.V. had spread like wildfire. It was the great equalizer, reducing its victims to their common carbon roots. The worlds of science and medicine rushed to find a cure, a vaccine, or any form of preventative measure. Certain groups focused on an offensive cure, which never came to any fruition. A small group of those focusing on defensive measures had managed a modicum of success, a way to delay the extinction of humanity. Hope came from a combination of three things: heat, gravity, and sight.
The scientific community that Ulysses now worked for as a soldier, explorer, transporter of goods, and infield researcher was now called the Corrective Catholicon. In short, he was a ‘Nostrum’. They had developed the E.O.V.P. suits, and structures that used similar technology to keep the virus out. They created a mode of vision that when used, one could actually see the microscopic virus cells, lit up brightly against the background. It could be seen floating through the air or crawling over a corpse. Extreme heat would kill the virus, but this was not something individuals walking on the ground could readily employ without excessive danger to themselves. The fortresses utilized this, whereas the Nostrums utilized the grav-tech.
These suits of armor fully enclosed the wearer from the outside. The shoulder pieces were long, thin plates with barred circles in their center that served as gravitational generators, which created a spherical gravity field around the wearer. In an almost humorous, clear sign of mankind’s desperation to find preventative measures from the virus, the gravity fields were used to push the microorganisms away upon contact with the sphere’s edge. The E.O.V.P. suits had barely been developed in time, and very few individuals were able to be selected and trained after the last foundations of humanity crumbled.
No one who was part of the Corrective Catholicon knew how the Velvetyrn Martyrdom had gotten a hold of the technology. Not only this, but theirs seemed to be even better than those of the Nostrums. They even had had time for aesthetics, apparently. Their suits were a deep red in color, and the grav-tech was so refined that large, thick ribbons of cloth wrapped around their arms, legs, and chests, floating in place without actually touching the suits at all. The Martyrdom was of the belief that Man needed to die. They preached that once they killed all who were not of the Martyrdom, they would then commit mass-suicide. They believed the E.O.V. was meant to cleanse the earth, and that fighting against its efforts was a sin of sorts, a slap in the face of the higher powers who clearly wished life as it was be gone from Earth.
Ulysses was part of the Onyx Nostrum, a team that had dwindled in recent months from arduous warring with the Martyrs and from missions he didn’t agree with. His suit, like all Nostrum suits, was merely the color of the metals that comprised it, bar the jet black detail denoting his faction. The E.O.V. was now believed to be sentient, or, more complex in its consciousness than other viruses. The leaders of the Onyx Antivenin were determined to use the E.O.V against the Martyrs, as if it could be swayed to do so. The Nostrum had been sent over and over again to areas of dense viral contamination in odd efforts to begin the process of measuring its potential for weapon adaptation. Everyone in the Nostrum was fairly certain, that if the E.O.V. could be influenced, then the Martyrdom had already done so in their favor.
He did not share the Martyr’s vision. He did not share his leaders’ vision. And apparently, neither had Cobalt.
Onyx had stopped receiving support and reinforcements from The Cobalt Antivenin and its Nostrum some time ago, which had decided the Martyr presence here had become too overwhelming and moved on further West. Ulysses missed them dearly.
Beep-beep-beep… berr berr
Through his petrified breathing, he had heard this sound non-stop since the round took out his sight. The suits internal systems were attempting to reboot the optics, only to fail and immediately retry each time.
Beep-beep-beep… berr berr
Finally, Ulysses heard the crunching steps over debris of another E.O.V.P. suit as it rounded the corner. He heard the toad croaking whir of its grav-field generators calmly spinning their web of life that made melee nigh impossible between suits.
Beep-beep-beep… berr berr
He could hear the discordant whistle made from the constant air intake of a pancurion cleaver primed to fire.
Beep-beep-beep… berr berr
The Martyr, was not blind. A dull roar came from within the confines of his suit- a wave of relief to Ulysses.
Beep-beep-beep… berr berr
The cleaver’s whistle steeply climbed to a heightened pitch, before unleashing its thunderous torrent of automatic shot.
‘Iledi... thank God it’s you. I can’t see anything. Until we find our way back, I’m blind.’
Beep-beep-beep… berr berr.
1070 words.
E.O.V.P.
Ulysses was blind.
He had downed his enemy, but the Velvetyrn Martyr wasn’t dead. He could hear the Martyr’s armor slowly dragging over the rubble, and the muffled grunts of pain coming from inside the bastard’s E.O.V.P. suit. The two had exchanged shots, and his helmet’s optical window had taken the hit. He felt the impact of the round crash against the face of his helmet, shattering the complex system of lenses. By some miracle, the round hadn’t gone clean through his suit, and out the back of his head. He was terrified.
There was no way to know if his suit had been compromised, and if the virus was getting in. He couldn’t tell if his suits grav-systems were still functioning. All he could see was the black void of nothingness. His optic display had gone out with the hit and he had been knocked off his feet onto the ground. His pursuer had chased him after they had parted ways from the battle into a ruined building. The Velvetyrn Martyrdom had never ceased being relentless in their pursuit of ending the rest of humanity, since day one of the E.O.V. Age.
E.O.V, the virus that decimated the world. It had killed off plants and animals alike, simultaneously. The epitome of plague. As outbreaks of disease often had in humanity’s past, E.O.V. had spread like wildfire. It was the great equalizer, reducing its victims to their common carbon roots. The worlds of science and medicine rushed to find a cure, a vaccine, or any form of preventative measure. Certain groups focused on an offensive cure, which never came to any fruition. A small group of those focusing on defensive measures had managed a modicum of success, a way to delay the extinction of humanity. Hope came from a combination of three things: heat, gravity, and sight.
The scientific community that Ulysses now worked for as a soldier, explorer, transporter of goods, and infield researcher was now called the Corrective Catholicon. In short, he was a ‘Nostrum’. They had developed the E.O.V.P. suits, and structures that used similar technology to keep the virus out. They created a mode of vision that when used, one could actually see the microscopic virus cells, lit up brightly against the background. It could be seen floating through the air or crawling over a corpse. Extreme heat would kill the virus, but this was not something individuals walking on the ground could readily employ without excessive danger to themselves. The fortresses utilized this, whereas the Nostrums utilized the grav-tech.
These suits of armor fully enclosed the wearer from the outside. The shoulder pieces were long, thin plates with barred circles in their center that served as gravitational generators, which created a spherical gravity field around the wearer. In an almost humorous, clear sign of mankind’s desperation to find preventative measures from the virus, the gravity fields were used to push the microorganisms away upon contact with the sphere’s edge. The E.O.V.P. suits had barely been developed in time, and very few individuals were able to be selected and trained after the last foundations of humanity crumbled.
No one who was part of the Corrective Catholicon knew how the Velvetyrn Martyrdom had gotten a hold of the technology. Not only this, but theirs seemed to be even better than those of the Nostrums. They even had had time for aesthetics, apparently. Their suits were a deep red in color, and the grav-tech was so refined that large, thick ribbons of cloth wrapped around their arms, legs, and chests, floating in place without actually touching the suits at all. The Martyrdom was of the belief that Man needed to die. They preached that once they killed all who were not of the Martyrdom, they would then commit mass-suicide. They believed the E.O.V. was meant to cleanse the earth, and that fighting against its efforts was a sin of sorts, a slap in the face of the higher powers who clearly wished life as it was be gone from Earth.
Ulysses was part of the Onyx Nostrum, a team that had dwindled in recent months from arduous warring with the Martyrs and from missions he didn’t agree with. His suit, like all Nostrum suits, was merely the color of the metals that comprised it, bar the jet black detail denoting his faction. The E.O.V. was now believed to be sentient, or, more complex in its consciousness than other viruses. The leaders of the Onyx Antivenin were determined to use the E.O.V against the Martyrs, as if it could be swayed to do so. The Nostrum had been sent over and over again to areas of dense viral contamination in odd efforts to begin the process of measuring its potential for weapon adaptation. Everyone in the Nostrum was fairly certain, that if the E.O.V. could be influenced, then the Martyrdom had already done so in their favor.
He did not share the Martyr’s vision. He did not share his leaders’ vision. And apparently, neither had Cobalt.
Onyx had stopped receiving support and reinforcements from The Cobalt Antivenin and its Nostrum some time ago, which had decided the Martyr presence here had become too overwhelming and moved on further West. Ulysses missed them dearly.
Beep-beep-beep… berr berr
Through his petrified breathing, he had heard this sound non-stop since the round took out his sight. The suits internal systems were attempting to reboot the optics, only to fail and immediately retry each time.
Beep-beep-beep… berr berr
Finally, Ulysses heard the crunching steps over debris of another E.O.V.P. suit as it rounded the corner. He heard the toad croaking whir of its grav-field generators calmly spinning their web of life that made melee nigh impossible between suits.
Beep-beep-beep… berr berr
He could hear the discordant whistle made from the constant air intake of a pancurion cleaver primed to fire.
Beep-beep-beep… berr berr
The Martyr, was not blind. A dull roar came from within the confines of his suit- a wave of relief to Ulysses.
Beep-beep-beep… berr berr
The cleaver’s whistle steeply climbed to a heightened pitch, before unleashing its thunderous torrent of automatic shot.
‘Iledi... thank God it’s you. I can’t see anything. Until we find our way back, I’m blind.’
Beep-beep-beep… berr berr.
1070 words.
