Vale Veneficus

“Get a load of this!” cried Robotnik as he swung the oversized and rather comical weapon into the Dwarfers. From seemingly out of no-where, a grand score of 8-bit glory echoed throughout the arena: The Boss Music.
“To the first platform!” ordered Plisken, taking charge of the group as their de-facto leader was currently occupied with trying to swat the large ball out of the sky, much akin to a cat and a ball and string. Only the cat was a super-powered green monster and the ball was a weapon that seemed intent of crushing the heroes into a small amount of red mist. But apart from that it was the same.
<Snip>
After Shark Boy was on top of the jawbreaker-wrecking ball he waited till it was flying near the throne where Robotnik was waiting before he bit through the chain. At that moment the huge jawbreaker-wrecking ball flew close to Robotnik and smashed into the wall behind him. Robotnik was scared at first as he realized he soiled his pants, but regrouped and hit a panic button as the room was quickly changed into a danger room like the one used by the X-Men. Several traps were activated and many robots armed with various gadgets began attacking everyone as they tried to cross the platforms. Shark Boy got dirty looks from everyone as he shrugged and replied, “My Bad.”
</Snip>
“Fool,” muttered Plisken. Shark Boy’s little stunt had made this a whole lot harder. Not to mention made Robotnik seem a damn sight less impressive. Plisken, like probably many of the heroes, had hoped for a final boss that was cunning and supreme. Oh well.
The whole area just seemed a mess, the Dwarfers had gotten separated and where trying to deal with each of the new dangers that had presented themselves by themselves, not working as a unit like they should. Plisken cursed, rather hypocritically, under his breathe about them not working together.
“Bwahaha,” laughed Robotnik from his bulbous air craft, his bristly moustache shaking up and down as he laughed, “Your friends seem rather occupied!”
“Hm!” smirked Plisken, “Perhaps you should try your luck against me then, Eggman!”
“Bwhat?!”cried the mad doctor, his anger rising quickly.
“|Surely you can take an old man? Or are you not good enough?”
Robotnik slammed his fist against the controls of the aircraft, rocking it slightly. He growled and pushed forward the controls of the craft, sending it hurtling forward. Plisken smiled and took flight, running back the way they had come, back to the bridge.
Plisken kept pushing himself, trying to forget that he was abandoning his friends. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that the crazed inventor was still following, the air craft now brimming with weaponry. The hard metal plates of the lair turned to hard stone as Plisken reached the bridge. The charred remains of Plisken opponent still lay on the centre of the bridge.
Plisken waited until he was half way a long the bridge before turning, his cloak flying out in a flourish. As he turned, a quick hand gesture created a reddish barrier at either ends of the bridge, locking Plisken and Robotnik in.
“I have you now,” sneered Robtonik, thumbing a firing switch on the console of his craft. A flurry of rockets and bullets erupted from the guns, all trained on Plisken’s position. They struck with deadly accuracy, leaving a heavy cloud of smoke in their wake. Robotnik chuckled to himself as he waited for the smoke to clear. But a narrow beam of light broke through the dark clouds. Then the beam widened as the clouds parted, the beam forming a sphere of glowing white light. Inside was Plisken, the old man slouched on his staff and concentrating intensely. The staff’s head was producing a blindingly white light that separated into the sphere that had protected Plisken.
Robotnik gazed in awe, “So your not just and old man,” he muttered as his gaze was transfixed on the protective bubble.
“Indeed,” said Plisken, rising from his slouch, bringing out all of his energy for one last fight.
With his staff at the ready and his sword in his strong hand, the blade sharp and thirsty, the old man muttered one warning, “Brace yourself.”
Meanwhile
The Angel swept away another enemy with his wings, his righteous justice protecting his friends from harm. Jacky and Alex were helping the others cross the platforms as they fought off Robotnik’s evil minions. The group had made it to the second platform but were being hounded by the constant stream of enemies that Robotnik had built. The Dwarfers had begun to work together.
“Alex!” cried Jacky as he tore the wings of a flying metal wasp creature, sending the body plummeting into the pit below.
“Yes Brother?” replied Alex.
“Plisken?”
The Angel looked around, searching for his friend. Amidst the chaos he could not find him nor Robotnik. The Angel cursed, which was strange to hear from such and angelic being but most had better things to worry about at the present moment than an angel with a potty mouth.
“Brother Artemis!” Alex called.

Alex and Artemis flew down the corridors, Alex quite literally. They had left the others to hold the position while they retrieved their comrade.
“There!” shouted Artemis, pointing to a furious melee on the bridge.
“Plisken!” Alex shouted from behind the red barrier Plisken had set.

Plisken glanced over his shoulder at his friends that waited behind the barrier, desperate to aid him.
“Bah! So we have an audience, eh?” panted an out of breath Robotnik, swinging a chain sword down near Plisken. The blade narrowly missed the old man, harmlessly slicing a strip of his cloak away. The blade retracted into the handle, a high pitched whirring sound being produced as the chain coiled inside the handle. Robotnik’s craft lay crashed on the bridge, perched on the edge.
Plisken smiled and kicked Robotnik away, he had been waiting for this- they needed to see it. He jogged back a little, giving himself some space. Robotnik’s face twisted into one of confusion, Plisken had been up close for the whole battle. Despite Plisken’s prowess in swordsmanship, and the others equally skilled attributes, they would never have been able to defeat Robotnik. He was the master program, he was the virus.
With one last look over his shoulder at his friends, Plisken smiled and readied himself. Robotnik lay waiting, charging up for an attack.
“You. Shall Not. Pass!” Plisken cried, slamming his staff to the ground, a great shuddering shaking the bridge. Great portions of the bridge began to fall away before the centre of the bridge simply exploded, taking the craft with it. Robotnik tried to out run the falling bricks of the bridge but was too slow, the ground falling from his feet and he plunged to his death into the chasm below.
Plisken panted, the barriers falling down as Plisken felt his energy simply slip away. Alex and Artemis ran out to meet him but they never reach him in time. With a last final tired smile, Plisken looked up. A blade punctured his chest, a whirring sound echoing from the pit below. Plisken was pulled into the pit but Alex reached out at the last second to grad his friends hand.
“Fly you fool,” the old man advised and pushed away Alex’s grip.

“Shit shit shit,” cried Katrina, upsetting the cup of tea that lay on her lap. A high pitched whine came from Plisken’s AR machine and all his vital signs dropped. Katrina opened up the seat, pulling out the old man. He looked completely fine, no injury or wound, but he was for all intents and purposes- dead. Katrina did her best to resuscitate him but the skill needed was far beyond that of anyone.
“Phi!” she cried, calling for the doctor. Luckily Phi was already at the door, medical kit in her hand. She almost cried as her eyes scanned the AR chairs and found it was Plisken that was lying dead in Katrina’s arms.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Phi shouted as she ran her eyes over Plisken’s lifeless body.
“Do something!” Katrina yelled as Phi stood their motionless.
“There’s really nothing I can do,” she whispered, a flood of tears building up behind her eyes.
A small prod in her backside plugged the wave of emotion, however, and Phi spun round, ready to smack whoever had done that. But it was only Missus.
“What?” snapped an emotionally charged Phi.
Missus snapped her ‘mouth’ (is that what we’re calling it) and a series of beeps and boops came from her voice box.
“Yes, of course” Katrina said, her tears partially clearing up, “Phi, help me get him up.”

[I don’t really like doing this but listen to this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IAeu7_jRySA]

The two women picked up the old man and draped them over their shoulders, his heavy weight bearing down on them. Slowly they carried him out of the AR suite, dragging him along the corridors. The vending machines stood respectively silent and the skutters moved out of Phi and Katrina’s way. Phi glanced up and read the direction to their destination: the Stasis Booths. The long grey dark corridors seemed to go on forever as the two pulled along their fallen comrade, their fallen friend, through the broken and battered hallways and doors, sparks and warning lights lighting their way. The virus still ran through the ship’s systems, destroying everything. Plisken had given everything to save them, hopefully it would be enough. A large group of the resident Roo population parted like the sea of Israel in the promenade high street, busy shoppers and tourists from the lower decks giving silent sorrow as Plisken passed by. As they passed the Ardetorium, a collection of Huzzard out on a hunting party took a moment to watch the two women pass by, watching them but they couldn’t bring themselves to attack.
They found themselves at Stasis Booth 64, one of the few functioning Stasis Booths on the ship. Katrina took of Plisken’s coat and hat, laying them to one side, while Phi prepped the Booth. As Katrina folded the greatcoat, a small disked tumbled out one of the pockets, clattering on the ground. They seemed to stare at it for hours before picking it up. On the upper side small note was attached. It read: Play On Death. Phi pocketed the disk for later, everyone should see it.
Phi and Katrina stood back as the door slide closed, sealing the dead man in the booth. A rush of steam erupted from vents around the inside of the booth, freezing Plisken and preserving his lifeless body. He was dead.

Meanwhile and very far away
The man looked out at the star, once again hypnotised by its playful sea of energy. He took a sip of his drink, bearing his teeth as the harsh alcohol burned its way down his throat. The door at the back of the room slide open, 6 of 27 striding in and brandishing a data slate in her hand, the orange glow of the screen illuminating her face in the dim light of the room. She ignored the legion of servitors that flanked the walkway, the bodies mindlessly typing away.
“We got a positive hit, sir,” she spoke, a slight edge of fear in her words.
The man’s ears pricked up, hearing the fear but he chose not to comment on it, “Good, where has 64 hid himself now?”
“Dimension 270 sir, he’s on the Jupiter Mining Corporation Mining Vessel Blue Dwarf.”
“Brittany’s dimension then,” the man muttered, lighting a fine golden cigarette.
“Indeed,” she said, trying to not breathe in the strong fumes of the cigarette.
“Then brief the Sword Courier team,” he ordered waving her away.
“Erm,” she stammered, “Subject 64’s dead, sir.”
“Well that is most unfortunate,” the man said, a hint of a smile creaking in at the corner of his mouth, “In that case, tell Mordonis to begin project Lazarus, authorisation Lexic Dark 55278 Alpha 771.”
The woman’s face looked confused but she dared not question the man’s orders, “Yes, Greyman.”
The woman left the room, resting the dataslate on Greyman’s table but he ignored it, his ice blue eyes staring at the star. “Found you,” he muttered, his face breaking into a slight smile.