Guyver_Protector - Tarnished with death, it still held the beauty it had many of years ago. Though now, upon the cracked earths surface of this island, death was present. Once great people though their culture lacked in many ways, they worked effortlessly to keep a stable island together once again. No longer did huts of thatch run about the dirt streets, now buildings of prominent concrete, and steel adorned its presence. Though of a little ways from the docks, a structure made fully of steel sat within a once volcanic crater. The building itself spanned the whole 2 mile radius of the mouth of the volcano. Its surface was tuck with red rust, flaking and peeling. No windows were built into the walls, though the top was a massive dome of glass intersectioned in a fancy of colors. Within side, sitting upon a throne of steel, a figure of white, adorned armor, organic sinew slithering about every second. He was massive in size, a faint blue hue emanating from his form of alien organics. His right hand was balled and his head was resting upon it, his eyes directed to the massive 50ft steel doors that were closed to his councils chambers.
GuyverUnit99 - from within the dormant tempest of time and spaces, lies a docile formulation of quietus, within the guise of a precarious onlooker thought o be out of control.. His own subconscious afflictions seeming moot within their survivable applications, thought this beastial devastation of reoccurring fate seeming only meek within fortitude when compared to the everlasting visage of nothingness that fell all around him. Fingers would creep ever outward, as indigenous instrumentations of doubt seemed to find longing within the extended phalanges… from out this foray of self doubt, would arise the mighty warrior known as 99, though his own reflections of conscious apparitions, seemed lacking within the onslaught of spatiotemporal absolutes, he would once more seek solace within the ways of linear man, and press himself forward upon a formation of horizons likened to an event. This transportation of teleportation would press him into a auspicious guise of corporeal fortitude.. Within this physical interpretation, would a navy hue spout forward from nothingness, and birth from it, the tangible representation of Donald Golden, within the form of Guyver.. He would fall, from 10 feet, climaxing within this moment of ease, by contacting the ground knee’s first.. The second layer of the control medallion, flashing first once, than twice, pressing forward a wake of photons to light his way.. What was this strange place he had found himself amongst.. Only time and exploration would tell..
Guyver_Protector Somatic with vital verves, transcending about his bio-organic tissues, and cataphract. He rose from his subtle rest, a sensation a presence forming within his incensed psyche. The presence of this unknown individual was sought out with a quick look through the oculuses of one of his inanimate. The vision was distorted, though a faint image came through. A deep blue color was seen, nothing more. He discontinued his site from the ill-fated unconscious. Exhorting forth, he forced open the doors of his chambers with ease. Servants who still lived, moved away from him as he trudged down the monolithic hall. Coming to the main entrance of the Kings Palace -his palace- the doors were guarded, by men who's life had drained from them, but were reborn through a process of re-animation. Though not living. Quickly with haste, they pushed open the doors of steel, Protector emerging into the vast plains in which surround the Palace. Grass of gold swayed about as a light wind wisped through. He stopped before the doors as they closed behind him. His hands formed behind his back fingers interlacing with each other. He stood there, awaiting the individual who now crossed onto his land. It was uncommon for any man to set foot upon this desecrated isle.
GuyverUnit99 - as the lunging prosecutor of supposed protection, would flaunt his ever impending prowess across the land, this meek yet stabilized unit would stand to his feet.. Ocular ridges compressing as fingers commenced upon his hips.. Advanced sensory systems would scan ahead, trying to triangulate this supposed aggressor before he would have the chance to perceive him.. Though this too would be of no avail, as his own figurative glance would be post haste in consideration of the dormant attributes of dead that flocked behind their "master".. Ninety Nine would progress, trudging through the terrain until he was but 500 feet from this masterful out of control element.. His cerulean visage seemingly statuesque within the pale beams of sunlight, that fell from above.. Sonic oscillators would transmute soluble forms of energy into a more acquirable form of power.. They would advance with lamination of sonic formations.. Speech would be the desired attribute, as Ninety Nine would not wish to speak through the telepathy organs at this time.. "Hello" he would say, without even the advent of a grand gesture before hand.. A simple greeting for a simple Guyver..
Guyver_Protector - Before him stood another of his kind though he was not amused by this sudden burden, as he had wished to be relieved of the others. He nodded after the faint greeting. With a release his right hand came out from behind him, his hand cupped a bit, as he spoke arms sweeping, "What brings you to my land Ninety Nine?" He knew of who this was, he was an unusual Guyver, one not forget. Dropping his hand, he leaned his head towards his left. Orbits slowly moving about Ninety Nines form. Moving forward he took a side step to his right, encircling his once old comrade. His armored eyes now staring at the cranial. He spoke once again stopping behind him, "You do know the Guyver Strike Force is dead. My father as well." He had hate for 99, as he was unsure if he did the deed himself or not. Continuing forth, he finally finished his circle about himself, stopping his back turned towards Ninety Nine. " Please leave my land. You have no right to be here." He continued talking cause on his land he was the only rightful one to pursue vocalization of any kind, unless it was a servant or men of his army of dead.
GuyverUnit99 - nimble digits crept from where they found rest, arms wrapping before the chest, as the gravitational control orb would sound a becoming all its own.. A temporal abnormality would develop, forming a quantum singularity, onto which, the gravity control orb would press its abilities to freely control and manipulate such quantum particle fields as graviton. This transference of energy would commence, thusly invigorating the massive unit that stood before him.. Those ocular characteristics would arise, as a defensive guise would seem to shout from his own standing form.. This was not a unit to be taken lightly, he spoke of him as though he himself was David Golden.. David had long since past, and became Yakuhon. GoRuden begot Aureus, and the two Goldens.. Though he himself was no longer that prestigious figment of manifested thought.. No he had donned the title of Ninety Nine, and yet kept himself from the remembrance of its auspicious traits.. He was Donald Golden, a separate entity, and though he knew of the Strike forces through observation alone, he was never apart of them.. He spoke of the travesties that partook TheGuyversWill, and yet found himself unaware of the one who had enacted the deed.. Curious as this may be, one must put aside his own questioning nature, in order to better understand through perception.. He would stand, and say but one word.. "No" awaiting some form of response from this lesser Unit.
Guyver_Protector - Once he started walking he stopped. He turned his head around orbits falling upon Ninety Nine. Turning around, his own arms formed over his chest, as a single spark of electrodes raised from one of the encased HF-Swords. The blue bolt was clearly seen against the black volcanic structure. He stepped forward another bolt of energy snapping about, this one staying constant as he used the Electron Particles from his inner form. It flared at many angles through out the air, a constant surge of electricity. Stopping scant inches from Ninety Nine, he spoke "No, you knew nothing, or no you wont get off my isle?" He continued the surge of transcending electrodes, as he manipulated the structural density of them, the bolt now circling both Ninety Nine and him. A lattice work of electrical webbing formed across his cranium. It was not an attacking method. He spoke once more an arm coming away from his chest and point towards the east, where the docks lay. "Get off my isle!" His voice was filled with anger. It could be heard even though his facial features werenot seen underneath the white facial armor covering it.
GuyverUnit99 - so it had seemed this once docile apparition seemed forceful within his ways, no matter. The gravimetric signature he was emitting was easily perceived and manipulated if needed be.. Ninety Nine would stand still within his stance, not moving a muscle, except maybe to accumulate energy within the sonic oscillators for another barrage of contextual speech.. Fingers fall within alignment, grasping and tearing at various portions of his own physical embodiment, as though to display his rising rage.. Within the 3 million plus years he had been alive, he had learned to control certain attributes of his anger, yet on this day, he was becoming highly frustrated.. To smite this other unit would be something beyond the point of easy, and yet to talk, to console, and to manipulate, this could be something forthcoming within the ways of a ambassador of his stature.. "I say I will not leave." he would speak, along these lines the telepathy growths would be brought into effect, allowing the guyver to talk to this other unit on a level only the two shared in common "Guyvers are few far between, let us not war amongst each other, For you will be the losing party.." these words of angst perhaps were not the most diplomatic of approached, but as noted before, Ninety Nine was about to vanquish this putrid vestal of remorse, if tempted.
Guyver_Protector - Dropping his arm back to his side, he stepped backwards a few feet. The once sustained electrical bolt ceased disappearing with the coming wind that still flowed. He turned from Ninety Nine, walking back towards the doors which opened passage to his domain. He could be seen talking one of the dead guards, and a salute was not far from behind. He continued onwards through the hall, the doors still open, both guards exiting the structure. One stood at attention, as the other motioned for him to follow the "king". Within, his voice could still be heard, as he rose it so Ninety Nine could here, " God could not even stop me." It sounded very egotistic. He continued through, as he entered his chamber, directing servants to new jobs. They rushed off into different corridors, and rooms preparing for the new visitor. He moved back to his throne, and sat crossing his legs. He wondered how long he would stand out there within the blistering sun. Even though it didn't effect him. A servant rushed towards him kneeling. A laugh came through, as he patted the servants shoulder. He treated his followers with great respect. The servant smiled and left, as a fine silk tapestry was dropped from the ceiling, behind Protector. It was red, and embalm of some archaic means rested within the center of it. A hawk grasping a sword by the hilt.
GuyverUnit99 - so he stood, unimpressed, and un-amused, without even the doctrine of prestige that he had supposedly sought within his initial coming.. Perhaps this was a poor idea.. But why had he come here in the first place? It was not a destination he had sought out openly.. No, no, he was but a marionette of fate, within the hands of a grand advisor he dare not question.. He would have to proceed, to gain the trust of this other, even though his own concepts of God were somewhat tattered, and without scrutiny.. Ninety Nine would follow shortly after, as one of the non animated guardsmen would seem to wish to press him from his masters sanctum.. But a mere mortal in the eyes of this masterful unit.. His own thoughts lumbering forward as to intervene against the act of unusual will.. Perhaps this was his sin for the moment, to take linage within the formation of devious acts once protested but the Master of Puppets himself.. He would have to stress his own inadequacies within this moment, seeing as he would force his will unto another, merely for hindering his traveled path.. But to enacted but forceful physical means? That would be no better, he would have to deal with his sins for the time being.. Others would line the hall ways.. This archaic steel structure seeming sound, yet unsteady in the ways or morality.. These were all his servants, his slaves.. And Why? Simply because he was more powerful than them.. Had the Unit tainted him in so many ways? Was he doomed to repeat the mistakes of his "father" in such a way.. Donald felt a certain uneasiness about his entrance into this dormant catalyst of tormented souls, thinking to himself that perhaps it was better to leave this monster to his acts, and find others to help him in the quest that was soon to come.. But to remain an onlooker for eternity.. This would not do.. "God.. You speak of God as though you did not know him at one point.. " Donald would pause, picking up an ancient vase from some past relic, and examining it, before returning it to its previous position and staring directly at this "Protector".. "Your god died long ago… Your "father" was nothing more than a linear being who wished to perceive himself in such a prestigious way.. " he would pause once more, looking about the room, and to the subservient animations that fell about it.. "You act upon these people as though you yourself thought you were god.. Don’t you see that no man can claim such a prize? For even to perceive such an grand parody could mean death from above? Or do you not fear such concepts? I know the Guyver had presented you with the prospect of immortality, but to enact your sorrow filled woes upon others amongst you? I think you more a demon in this light, than some form of higher being.." within this break, his hands would form before his chest, letting these words soak in before he would commence his speech.. "I knew you once as a protector, I observed you trying to save others, And now.. Now you surround yourself with those who will only do as you tell them, with lifeless marionettes that have no opinions of their own, except the ones you provide them with.. What are you protecting them from now?"
Guyver_Protector - Lifting his head up after the servant had left, he watched Ninety Nine with curiosity. The vase that which held was more then 2 thousand years of age. It was priceless. He nodded, to one of his comments and awaited for him to finish his speech. "I knew God unfortunately." He looked down towards the actually clean floor beneath. It metal surface reflecting everything from above. It shone like a mirror. He looked back towards Ninety Nine, "I am no demon. I've created a world in which everything is as I see it. Freedom is a rightful choice of option. If they wish to leave then they can. I don't not object to that." : He pointed to a young boy who had just finished moving a rather large plush chair before Protector. The boys father helping, "Those two, are the children of the people who I once helped. They do not hate me for my doings of a past." Both nodded in unison, agreeing to Protector. " I am pursuing my fathers dream of becoming a greater enlightened being for them. I am a Savior." Suddenly the emotion of sadness filled his aching heart. Looking back towards the floor he watched his reflection, sobs echoed through the chamber. He looked back up a mere second towards Ninety Nine. " You knew me long ago yes, I did save other, or try to in ways I could not. Though when I was pushed to the brink of insanity, everything ruptured. I fell to a black hole." Standing he waved away the servants from his place, as he stepped down the small stairs to the steel floor. He motioned for Ninety Nine to sit. He walked towards a parchment that hung from a rivet on the wall. He had no coat of arms but the crest that was bared on the tapestry behind his throne was now his own. " This seal represent freedom. I created it after the death of my dad. I tried many of years to full fill what he could not long ago. I have done that." Sadness was overwhelming, anger mixing in, a chaos battle of emotions. Suddenly with a bald fist, his right arm drew back, and it was slung forward with great speed and strength, He screamed as he struck the wall, a dent now existent from it's once smooth surface. A blue hue escaping it as it seemed energy was leaked from his sudden fury "WHY!?" "Why did I call him father? I know why…I was lost I needed somebody there. HE NEVER ACKNOWLEDGED IT!!"
GuyverUnit99 - from furry and rage, does the mind find solace within sadness, and yet this embankment of envy seemed traumatic, even to he who is older than any other on this earth.. It would seem as though Protector wished only to make up for misanthropies that he had presented within the past, and yet by doing so, had doomed a small community to ever pay for his sins.. The nods of children, startled and ushered by fear, did not seem fruitful within their gesture, merely scared little chicks, doing whatever the farmer beckoned.. Life was a precious comedy, and yet to observe its passing by allowing those once dead to serve under you? Who frightful a sequester was this.. The motion to sit was disregarded, it felt more appropriate to stand at this point, to simply take in those grand vestal of calamity that scurried about in a panic, as though to do their masters bidding.. These words he spoke, they meant nothing.. They were merely Wesely’s own way of dealing with the grief and admiration that were ever present within his psyche.. There had to be some way to help him, and by helping him, help himself.. Ninety Nine would not move, but merely continue to use the sonic oscillators for speech.. "I see you have lured yourself into believing, that through control one can help.. Through al these years, you have yet to learn, that to truly help another, you must let them do things for themselves.. " he would pause on this note, allowing his thoughts to center on the floor, at that lamination of prestige that seemed to eerily represent Protectors own angst.. "It was never your father, merely a controller who wished to sanctify the world in it’s own name.. " his head would fall within the formulations of a hush, ocular ridges compressing, as his chin knelt to touch his chest, as though to continue this sojourn of remorse.. "You do not know me, You may think that perhaps I was someone from your past, but my "father" was the one to decimate yours.. You knew him as David Golden, later he would call himself GoRuden.. He found out about these aspects of manipulation, and thought it his duty to rid existence of them. He destroyed TheGuyversWill, and in doing so, left all of you, creating others to take his place.." his head would lift now, expelling toxins from the breather units as he continued to speak through the sonic oscillators.. "And in doing so, tried to make our world a better place. And yet…." at this point, he would kneel, allowing his left knee to touch the reflection below him, his right hand tracing over the curvatures of his own bio organic visage.. "And yet.. You continue on in the image of a controller, hoping to somehow win over a relic that will never return.. " eyes would leave the image of his own reflected icon, fixating on protectors visual persecutors.. "Why is it that you continue to dwell within this place of unrest? Why is it that you constantly torment yourself with the prospect of making a monster proud of you? Is it because you considered him your Father?" he would stand now, supporting his weight on those extended appendages.. "Don’t you understand.. He was merely a manipulator, and did not consider you his child, but merely a puppet to be played with as he wished.."
Guyver_Protector - Removing himself from the wall, he turned to meet Ninety nines eyes. A cold presence leaving him. Wandering through the chambers towards Ninety Nine, he reached upwards with a slim arm, hand touching the left shoulder of him, as he neared. His blue hued arterial centralism retina continued to stay upon his, dropping his hand back to his side. He understood what Ninety Nine was speaking of, something he did not wish to openly admit. So he still kept to himself. He looked down the hall, the steel doors ajar. Servants of old and young looked out towards the chamber, he called to them with a wave of his hand. They all ushered inside the domed room, about 50 or so standing about looking towards Protector then towards the other Unit. With a voice low, but audible he said words that rang out like bells from a church. "You are free, I will leave this Isle and let you have this beautiful place again. It was your's first." Nodding in recognition, he looked up as they looked dumbfounded at him. He motioned for them to leave once more "You are free." With that said they all smiled, they were happy to be free from his reign of terror. Turning around as they moved towards there rooms again he said "The first step to convincing ones self is to do the opposite of what you have already done." He walked back to his throne, in turn when he left it would no longer be his. Sitting, he looked as if now to be in a trance, as bright spark of electrodes crept from a single point of non-existence. It traced against his chest, towards his control medallion within a heartbeats turn. He spoke to the living dead that still wandered, and he could be heard through out his room. "I release your souls, you may rest in peace now. My reign is forfeit." With that said, he looked towards the entrance with entrance with ease, watching the guards. Both bodies stood there for an instant then feel to the ground. He yelled out one last command to the free people, and the listened "Take care of your dead." He removed himself from the throne, turned and reached outwards. His digits grasped the silk behind and pulled it down. Still gripping it, he sent a small electrical burst from his Electron Particle Reservoir to his hands. The tapestry now released from his hands burned. "It's over."