darkSpyro

You don't know how many memories this section is just tossing at me. Glad to see this place is still alive!
I've been wanting to become more active around DS, so I thought this would be a nice start. I don't have the motivation to really get my Art Topic up and running, but I DO have tons of writing just sitting here. So I thought, "hey! Why not just repost bits and pieces of the chapters on another site and confuse people? Good idea, BlueFox!" Seeing as how this site doesn't allow a certain amount of text, these will all be little, tasty, itty-bitty morsels, excerpts if you will, of the two fics I've been working on: Trek and Organic Beings. Both of which involve everyone's favorite upside down Dorito-shaped, Gumby-textured rejects: the SWAP Force. Yeah, I'm still writing about these freaks; don't judge.

DISCLAIMER: Icky things, messing up of lore, a species that isn't even in the series, and a bunch of headcanons. Beware.

Excerpt One: Question of the Day, from Chapter 18 of Trek


What is that thing?!

The question of the day.

Mornings at the headquarters were not like that of those on the Malicious Mongrel. How so? For starters, there were no deadly parasites. Not one in sight. Snappers on a Skyship seemed like the title for a horror blockbuster, to the Swappers, well, it was reality, and for Boom Jet...

...it was a nightmare. A horrible, awful nightmare.

All this had to be in his head, right? Just a sick, twisted figment of his imagination? Effects of traveling? Nuh-uh. Nope. Heck no. Boom Jet really, really wished it was, though. He felt faint. Numb, as if a whole pack of Boghogs had trampled everything in his body. Shivers sent down his spine. Queasy? Uh-huh. Unsettled? Yes. Disturbed? Heck yes. Sick to his stomach, intestines in a tangle, Boom Jet had his entire face stuffed into a bucket.

Retching.

The skysurfer was quite the stranger to fear; this had almost been all brand new to him. He could take A LOT of things. If dared, he would do anything. Jump off the Kalamity Kliff? Sure! Drink a thousand gallons of expired Fizzy Juice? Why not! Swim with peckish piranhas? Wicked! Hear how a grotesque, squirmy parasite was living in the arm of a fellow teammate?

NOPE, NOPE, NOPE! NOPITY NOPE!

Those had been his exact words...and he really had time to say before he lost his contents. On the edge, of his bed, and his senses, the Skylander was horrified beyond belief. Gore never had been his strong suit. Well, he could sit though a marathon of bloody, over-the-top horror movies, but in real life? Right in front of him? The smell and sight of it all? The usual cuts, bruises, and shiners were nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to this! The wars he and the other Skylanders went through were nothing like this! He shuddered. His stomach hadn't been the only thing in distress. Everyone was in a flurry. Most were scared, few were stressed, one was, for some reason, amazed...

And then there was Fire Kraken. Oh, Fire Kraken. How Boom Jet envied him. That dragon was an utter enigma. He could find the bright side of every dark corner. He could find the sunniness on the a dreary, stormy afternoon. He...he could pretty much turn any bad situation into a good situation. Fire Kraken found the goodness in everything! Except Mondays. He could get...kinda cranky on early Monday mornings. Nevertheless, Fire Kraken was a cheery, young fellow. As helpful as he was hyperactive, the dragon would always be by one's side in time of need. He loved to help; he DESIRED to be helpful. It came as no surprise when Boom Jet felt a warm claw brushing up his back. "Shhh, there, there," he soothed, or at least tried to; his voice wasn't exactly like that of an angel. "Let it all out, let it all out. Everything's going to be alright."

Boom Jet would've snorted if wasn't busy gagging his guts out, if bile wasn't coming from his nostrils. Being snarky was one of his many specialties! "What exactly—" he sniffled—"is your idea of alright?"

Fire Kraken wrapped an arm around him. "Ohoho, you tease, you! Still making jokes when you're yakking! That's what I like about you, man; you're fearless! Oh, hey, ya know, what this reminds me of?" He didn't even wait for him to respond, but Boom Jet probably wouldn't have replied anyway. "This reminds me of that time you thought you could handle that gross, icky eel soda stuff. A-and the time with the expired chocolate! Oh-oh, and the time with those gummy bears! We thought that smell was coming from Stink Bomb! Oh, and..."

Boom Jet blocked out the rest of the ramble, or at least tried to; unfortunately, the bucket he had his head in only enhanced noise. The odds weren't in his favor, it seemed, as Fire Kraken wasn't the only one with a motorboat mouth. Grudgingly, Boom Jet finally looked up, groaning. "It's always something in this family...always something..." He turned to Fire Kraken with a mumble. A single strand of saliva hung from his mouth. "Well," he sounded a little delirious, a slur in his speech. Stricken sick, his face, or at least half of it, was a faint green, "I can safely say that this isn't going as planned..."

"We had a plan?"

"What? Of course, we had a—" Boom Jet stopped himself in mid-sentence. Did they really have a plan? It didn't really seem like it; they all just rushed into battle, blind, without any second thoughts or strategies or anything! "I honestly don't remember..."

"Don't remember? Do you have amnesia?!" Fire Kraken felt Boom Jet's forehead, or rather the top of his helmet, starting to worry. "What's two plus two? What's the secret to making guilt-free brownies? Only we know that! Think, Boom Jet, think! Do you know where you are?!"

"Kraken, I'm fine..." He didn't want to be seen, not like this, not like a helpless, barfing baby. He was independent. Truth be told, that had been his strength AND his weakness. "Thanks, but no thanks. I can handle this on my own. I'm not a kid." Carefully, Boom Jet had to weigh his words. Fire Kraken was the most sensitive on the team. He didn't want to be drowned in a river of scalding tears. Not today. "A-and don't talk about the secret recipe!"

"Of course you aren't a kid!" Pop! In a milisecond, he had a helmet in his hands—Boom Jet's helmet. Fire Kraken grinned, his voice a babyish whimper. "You're a wittle squirrel..."

---

Excerpt Two: Liar; from Chapter 21 of Trek

"You did this to him! YOU LIED TO US!"

"I thought that was made obvious already."

They'd gotten a surprise visitor just after...the big announcement. And Fire Kraken wasn't exactly sure if he wanted him here. Not right now, not at this moment. It just had to be him, didn't it? It couldn't have been someone easy to approach, someone who'd understand.

It just had to be Night Shift.

Fire Kraken was watching the whole thing unveil, holding on tight to his baton as if it were his only hope. His entire skeleton shivered. Why did it have to be Night Shift? Why not Hoot Loop? Why not Doom Stone?

"Fighting is not the answer!" Fire Kraken would shout out from time to time. He knew he was wasting his breath, he knew it wouldn't matter. Night Shift wasn't taking this lightly. Fire Kraken jumped at the sound of his snarls.

"What? Were you and Magna Charge in cahoots or something? Is that what you were doing?!"

"I told you already," Rattle Shake spoke with ease, as if he weren't afraid of the horrors that could unfold. Unafraid of Night Shift. "I did not know about this issue, not until last night, when I found Stink Bomb tending to his wounds," He stood tall, chest puffed, tongue flicking, arms crossed.

The vampire snorted. "And I am supposed to believe you now? After you lied to everyone?!"

"I did what I had to. You all wouldn't have been able to take it. I do what I have to protect my family."

"You did what you had to protect yourself!"

Rattle Shake closed his eyes and breathed out. "Sometimes the truth hurts. I can see that you are hurting."

"Sometimes? Want to know what hurts all the time? My fist shoved all the way up your—"

"ALRIGHT. We get it, you've got this freaky, weird obsession with Freeze Blade! That's enough! That's the end of it!" Boom Jet was acting like a roadblock for the two, the one standing in between their battle. His arms were outstretched, placed on their chests. He'd been like that for a while. Fire Kraken was surprised he didn't just say 'screw this' and walk off. Usually the skysurfer would be stuffing his mouth with popcorn at a time like this, standing by and watching. Not today, apparently. Quite an admirable feat, interrupting the Undead and their animosity. Night Shift didn't even make note of what Boom Jet said. Rattle Shake was the only one who had his attention.

"I am going to tell you once more, for the last time. Ssslowly," the snakeslinger said, "I did not know about this issue, not until last night, when I found Stink Bomb tending to his wounds."

Night Shift's ears raised. "Stink Bomb knew about this, too?!"

Boom Jet heaved out a sigh. "Can we not? Can we not do this right now? You're starting to scare Kraken."

Starting? He had been terrified out of his wits since the beginning! Since a misty, blue bat attack Rattle Shake's face out of nowhere! Fire Kraken had to pry him off...and the glare he gave the dragon made his tail tuck in between his legs. Even when he was tinier than him, even when he was a fuzzy as a stuffed animal, Night Shift was absolutely haunting. Nothing would ever change that. Fire Kraken wished with all his heart that the others would get back inside soon. Boom Jet's eyes, though behind black glass, bore right into him. He was begging him, begging for him to do something. Fire Kraken couldn't! No, never! Yes, Boom Jet needed backup...one that his partner, for once, was afraid of providing. Take the egg from a Fire Viper? That sounded like a cool idea. Hide Stink Bomb's blanket from him? The outcome would be hilarious! Face off with Night Shift?

A death wish.

Fire Kraken wasn't quite ready to die yet. There was so much more to do! Like not being pummeled to bits by an old vampire! His grip on his staff tightened. How was he going to get out of this one? How were they going to get out of this one?

He felt bad. He felt really, really bad. Like how he felt that one time when he snuck into Spy Rise's room and accidentally broke one of his inventions, a surveillance drone. His claws had snapped off one of its wings. It wasn't much of a big deal...until he tried to attach the piece back on. Instant collapse. Panicked, Fire Kraken tried all he could to put it back together. Glue, peanut butter, honey, gum, lots of duct tape, his own saliva. Everything only made it worse. Realizing that he couldn't do anything to fix the drone, the dragon became a nervous wreck. And having Rubble Rouser catch him snooping about in an attempt to hide it inside a vase didn't make him feel any better. As soon as Spy Rise returned, it became a game of Stall the Spyder all until all the guilt got to Fire Kraken, and he crumbled and broke down into hot tears. Spy Rise had forgiven him, but couldn't hide the fact he was heated, seeing as he had to speak through his teeth and keep his legs from quavering with rage. Even though he acted like he wasn't upset, Fire Kraken really knew he was. And that was what stung him the most.

Guilt was the worst feeling ever. It was like having a bad stomachache that kept getting worse, and worse, and worse, always reminding him that he shouldn't have done that, nagging about how awful he was. He couldn't stifle the whimpers escaping from his clenched teeth. How was he going to put an end to this when he was afraid of even putting one foot forward? He soon found himself having an argument inside his head.

Should I...hug him? Love can break anything!

No, no, no, I'll just end up with a broken heart...and tons of broken bones.

Then what if I distract him...with a hug?

He stamped a foot down.

Garshdarnit Fire Kraken! You can't just go around hugging everything that moves! Hugs can't heal everything!

But then what was he supposed to do?! Alert the others? Wrestle Rattle Shake himself? Worriedly, he began to gnaw on his red nails. Bad habit, one that Spy Rise hated. The Spyder always snapped at him whenever he did it around his personal space. Sometimes he didn't even realize he was doing—

His tail perked up.

Night Shift was easily annoyed! Just like Spy Rise!

His tail drooped.

...but when in battle, everything just seemed to go mute for the vampire. Blabber was blocked out and talking was trampled. He went into this trance, a frenzy of fury, an unstoppable rampage. His eyes were only set on his prize—absolutely only set on his prize. The prize? The goal? Maybe smashing a skull. Knocking out some teeth. Breaking a nose. To put it simply, injuring the opponent in the most abhorrent way possible. Last time Magna Charge tried to get some answers out of him for a journal entry, he had his eye pop out, his jaw fall off, and his head crushed. Horribly mangled. Paralyzed from shock, he barely even acted as if he were hurt and managed to put himself back together, even while blind. But that image...that horrible image would be forever stuck in Fire Kraken's mind. Whenever he thought of interjecting a fight with Night Shift, that would always be there. It was here to stay.

His attention was brought back to the two when Night Shift rumbled. "I know who you are, Rattle Shake. You're a snake. You're a liar, a cheat. Self-indulged, scheming. You only think about yourself."

"If I was what you are describing I would not be apart of this team. You cannot break me, Night Shift, so stop wasting your time. We should be focusing on Freeze Blade."

"Really? Do you honestly believe that?" Night Shift smirked a little and snorted. "You wouldn't even be apart of this team if Master Eon hadn't decided to go out searching for you."

Excerpt Three; Not Like Us, from Chapter 22 of Trek

Their squabbling dwindled down into nothing but mumbles and murmurs. Satisfied, he took a sip of wine to clear his throat before speaking again. "He always comes back, mates. Right now he's prob'ly camped out somewhere in the Outlands, like he always is. We didn't lose him, we never did lose him. He'll return back to his lil' castle, like always! Probably just tryin' to work with whatever silly, stupid plan he has up his sleeves. When he does come back, we'll be ready. But we're not ready yet. Like Thunderbolt said, there's plenty of baddies out there, ones who may already have concocted a loopy, doom-destruction plan of ultimate doom. Like that Cardmaster guy! Y'heard about that big adventure the Swappies are goin' on? Think they might catch him for us?"

"WHAT?!" Thunderbolt boomed. "Spyro sent them...and not us?! The professionals?!"

"That's a joke! Hahahah!" Short Cut's laughter soon came to a close when he squinted an eye. "R-right?"

"Yew've got tae be twistin' me blauddy whiskers! Yew've got tae be jokin'!" Tuff Luck exclaimed; her eyes bugged out and her jaws dropped. "He sent the SWAP Force, those sixteen stooges, on a capture mission? Did I miss something? Did I miss April Fools this year? This has got tae be some sort o' joke."

Snap Shot shook his head. "No joke. Why? What's the problem?"

"Well, they're not exactly...err..." Blastermind scrunched his face up, trying to put together the right words. "Problem solvers. I don't even think they're very...secure. There's a fine line between being a Skylander and being something out of a children's cartoon. I'm not one to judge, but you've got to admit that they even look a bit strange. Different, peculiar. Very animated. The way they move, what they say. Why are they all shaped the same way? Why do some of them have noses? Why do some of them not have noses? Why do most of them have three fingers? What even is a hashtag? Like they were created by some sort of alternate being from a different dimension. Like something from another world."

"You're one to talk..." Head Rush said with a smirk. "For someone who doesn't understand comedy, you're being quite the comedian. Irony may just be your strong suit."

"No, no, no," Blastermind tutted, "you've got it all wrong. I'm not trying to insult them or anything. They were here before us, they're supposed to be who we look up to. I'm just making observations. I-I actually think we should invite a few over."

"Why? So you can study them?"

He dropped the books he was levitating. "N-no..."

Head Rush hardened her gaze.

"...yes."

"Please don't. Your failed autopsy on that one titchy toad left Bushwhack in tears."

Said-elf folded his arms. "I wasn't crying. The smell was getting to me."

Blastermind gathered the books back off of the floor with the flick of a hand. "You're telling me you're not the least bit curious of how their intestines work after being sliced in half? How they come out just fine after splitting apart their innards? It's amazing!"

Tuff Luck sniffed. "Disturbing is more like it. What type of ability is that? Just...strange."

"That's why it's so amazing!"

Gusto rubbed his chin. "They are a bit strange. And do cause most of the property damage around Skylands."

"A LOT of the property damage around Skylands. Especially that vampire one. Night Shift, I think," Jawbreaker then shuddered. "He kinda creeps me out. Anyone else notice the bits of blood on his fangs? Sounds like a bad guy to me, not like a senior citizen..."

"Whatever. You're just upset that you lost to a small, old guy," Bushwhack put his hands behind he head and sat back in his chair. "Night Shift's awesome; everyone knows that. We're best buds."

"Is that why he knocked you unconscious when you wouldn't stop following him?"

"An accident. He just confused me for Boom Jet, that's all. We sound alike...very alike."

"So the fact that he actively punches his teammates makes it better?"

"Head Rush does that," Bushwhack shrugged. "It's out of love."

As if to show off her skills, the viking cracked her knuckles. "Definitely out of love."

"You find Night Shift creepy?" Ka-Boom rose a brow. "What about Rattle Shake? With those icy eyes, that flickering tongue. Snakes are freaky. He always gives me a funny look whenever I pass by. What does...somethin' bonnet cannon mean? I think he said that. Isn't that French?"

"When roughly translated, I believe it might be nice cannon," answered Blastermind.

"Oh, so it was a compliment? Alright. Then what does calie—"

Tuff Luck snorted. "It doesn't matter. That snake's a sleazeball. He looks at everyone that way. Nearly coiled me up one time. I would've told him tae shove off...if I hadn't had downed too much gat that night. Don't remember what happened after that. Woke up in that 'ellhole they call a home. Worst day ever. I fell to his sly trickery. He's a charmer, I'll give him that. Probably gonna use that tae blackmail me one day. You know 'ow snakes are. They're all the same. I think he stole a bit of my fur, too..."

Snap Shot almost laughed. "I think you've had too much to drink t'day. Rattle Shake was just helping you find your way out of the desert heat. You were disoriented, remember? You two were on a mission. And it wasn't gat—whatever that is—it was cactus juice."

"Shaddap and stuff a sock in it, Snap. I'm perfectly fine!" the she-cat poured herself another glassful of apple ale, paws almost slipping around the bottle as she seethed." An' I remember that day like it was yesterday! He helped someone all right—he helped himself tae all this right 'ere! Don't give me that two-sides tae every story junk, I know what he did!"

He pricked and poked at his teeth with a finger. "Well, I never said that he didn't have frisky-kitty-fun time..."

"Since we appear to be on the topic of pestering Tuff Luck, my favorite subject," Bushwhack grinned, "how did all those missions with Stink Bomb go anyway?"

Tuff Luck gagged on her ale. The she-cat gave a rack of hoarse coughs. After a few pats on the back by Gusto, she wiped her muzzle and pinched her nose so hard it turned red. "Weasels' piss! Just sayin' 'is awful name makes me want t'chunder! Have y'heard? He doesn't even bathe! The rumors say that his real fur color isn't green—it's just all the icky gunk stickin' to it! What is he eating? What in Skylands CAN he be eating? Like a living, whoopie cushion, I swear. He never even warns ya ahead of the time. Forget about all those warning stomps an' whatever. He doesn't even give a little peep. It annoys me to no end! Stop givin' me those silly whimpers and just give me a yeller already!"

She started to stab at her salad. "Bloody skunk. Full of hot air. Real shame that has to be taken SOOO literally. And what's with those silly, stupid quotes? It's like he has fortune cookie papers stuck in his pants somewhere. Don't even get me started on when he blabs about Shakespeare. Who even is Shakespeare?"

"What is that I hear? Sounds to me like..." Lob-Star shook his hands around and chuckled. "You question what you fear!"

"Here's one for you, thick'ead," growled Tuff Luck. "A lobster who plucks at a cat's whiskers..." She slammed a hand down. "GETS THROWN INTO A POT AND BOILED ALIVE!"

Excerpt Five; Using My Head; Chapter One of Organic Beings
"Concentrate. Pay attention; eye upfront. Disregard all in your way. The Ultron do not struggle..."

Wary fingers wriggled, over and over.

"The Ultron do not feel..."

A single, green eye darted around the room, jumping from left to right, to and fro.

"The Ultron do not fear..."

Gears fell out of their lockets.

"The Ultron are strong..."

Sentry VV-117 had to disagree. They weren't supposed to struggle, but they were. They weren't supposed to feel, but they felt sick. They weren't supposed to fear, but that was all that was in their head, all they could focus on. Fright, fear of messing up, fear of disarraying the classroom...

Again.

They weren't even supposed to know what fear meant yet!

This had been their second day of school, their second day of life—if you could even call it that. Their second day of artificial life; that was more like it. The first day hadn't gone as planned by them, but went exactly as suspected by the Sentinels, the leaders of the Ultron. "The cursed," the elders boomed, "should not be toyed with. We have foreseen many outcomes. They all end up the same. An accident is not worthy of the gift of learning. Teaching them can only lead to disaster. That failure will use its power to corrupt our great civilization, our government. They are different, they are not like the Ultron; let us keep it that way."

Huddled up against rafts upon rafts of drones, or rather peers, they shivered. It felt like the first day of school all over again. Unbeknownst, the Ultron's hand grabbed onto the shoulder of the student next to them. The Instructor's voice was harsh and it only made VV-117 more wary; their maw spat out every word with venom. It was strict, serious, as strong as their own metal cogwheels.

Metal.

VV-117 winced. They had tried to stuff the word into the farthest reach of their mind. A fruitless attempt. Metal, the malleable material. Their grasp on their classmate tightened. Metal, the conductor of electricity and heart. And tighter. Metal, the very bane of his existence. And tighter. Forgetting about the first day of school just wouldn't happen; their database just wouldn't let them.

"The Ultron do not forget," the Instructor said, as if on cue. It sounded like a taunt more a helpful reminder. And...not tighter? What? VV-117 didn't have anything left to grab onto. Confused, they looked down to find a crushed piece of a shoulder in their hand. Surprised, the young sentry turned their head right, only to get an eyeful of one, mad Ultron, known as VV-118.

"CHRREEK!" Had they felt pain? Why'd they shrill? The Ultron could not feel pain. "Cllrick-tick-tick..." VV-118 clicked, their gears churning, steam rolling from their exterior.

What are you doing?

"Sslrrlk..."

Sorry.

An Ultron conversation. A tenderfoot Ultron conversation. They weren't in their advanced stages yet; none of them knew any words, but, like organic children, they had their own language. Just a bunch of mindless clicks, beeps, boops, buzzes, and sizzles. They all sounded like a bunch of insects scrapping over a meal, and yet they could understand each other.

"Rlrlk-rik," VV-117 tried to fit the piece back on.

Here, let me help.

"Rcklll-clk!" A flash of red lit up in their eye, turning on and off, fading in and out.

Don't touch me!

VV-117 flinched, set aback. It was like everyone only had three emotions: anger, hatred, and something else that was confusing, like a twixt between bitterness and disgust. VV-117 couldn't feel anything from them. Just a blank, one-track mind, created to only follow orders. They were drones—they were all drones. Experiments, clones, playthings, with no gender, no feelings, no thoughts. They were nothing. Nothing but pawns for the Arkeyans to send into battle whenever they pleased, whenever they wanted to be entertained.

But VV-117 hadn't known that. How could they? The Sentinels would've approve of such teaching.

The snap of the Instructor's pointer against the board both made them look forth. "Eye upfront! Disregard all in your way, soldiers!" Soldiers? What did that even mean? And what was that in the Instructor's hand? A stick? It wasn't even a real stick, an organic stick; it just looked like a part ripped from another Ultron. Anything and everything biotic was looked down upon by the Ultron, frowned at, disapproved of. The Instructor said on Day One that even touching something organic, even just a little, would spread disease. VV-117 hadn't liked that idea; the Ultron weren't supposed to fall ill. The thought sounded almost worse being cursed.

Almost.

The Instructor continued on, "The Ultron have no personality, VV-118. Do not try to be the angry one."

Said-sentry made a rumble when the students in the back of the class chattered.

"What was that, VV-118?"

Their head dipped in response, as they looked down like a guilty Seadog.

"VV-117!"

The young sentry's head snapped up immediately.

"The Ultron have no personality. The Ultron do no help. The Ultron DO NOT show weakness!" The Instructor paused for a second and squinted. "We...we are not like you."

VV-117 knew that already; the giant, magnetized horns on their head was a clear giveaway. But what was a personality? How could they get rid of it? Was it another curse? Before they could open their maw to speak, a single paperclip clung itself onto the side of their head. And then a wrench. And then a screw. Tons and tons of screws. VV-117, hurriedly, clasped their hands around their horns. They zipped out of line and rushed for the exit, dragging an entire row of Ultron behind them.

"Class dismissed."