Death and Time spare none (Gear)

MKR

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#1
OE ???
Time: Unknown
Location: Unknown


Luscious green plains with decorated with long lost architecture covered by a realm of infinite stars, both quite literally and figuratively. An infinite looking glass of shifting patterns and dancing lights that displayed the infinite possibilities of the multiverse. Or perhaps they were reminders of every star that passed into the dark, every world lost to beings foul and fair. The reality was uncertain, though whether a being that ran time for reality had imperfect memory was another issue for both possibilities provided its own issues.

The world of a friend who was not a friend, a man who was not a man. Of eternity and moments that never began. The window opened by Astranagant on the surface of the moon appeared beneath the cloaked sky of this realm, the scenery was familiar as it was the exact same location from his previous, much much rougher, landing and now it looked as if that had never happened. Be they repairs or reversal of what had happened. Compared to that brute force entry this was akin to knocking the door as the Astranagant softly landed softly nudging the grass with its landing instead of digging itself a pit. Derrick climbed out of the cockpit and looked over in the direction he had first gone when he came here.

Given how Gail had arrived here, it was possible Zivon was unaware of his presence. But given Zivon was himself that was extremely unlikely under current circumstances.

Footsteps moved through the grass once more, through the echoes of civilization passed consumed by the dirt and naught else but mankind's most mortal enemy, time. It had felt both like but a few days and several years had passed since he had arrived here first. So much had happened in so little time. But now- answers.

'Death' had descended upon the lair of 'Time'. The former oft happened because of the latter, an accomplice to many concepts but Time.. Time always found its way to bring Death upon all that lived, it was patient whereas Death was sudden, sporadic. Old friends and unwilling accomplices, the reaper clad in black robe left behind his coat in the grassy field. The device through which souls had been taken to the beyond.

Death descended in the form of a black angel, but walked among people like a mortal and now it returned to the place where Time had conscripted it with an angel as its witness.
 

GEAR

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#2
Thwok!

There was a somewhat meaty, hollow sound as Derrick made his way through the curious landscape. Whatever his eyes were telling him was there, uncertainly attempting to process wherever, or whenever this place was, they at least seemed to register that somewhat familiar noise.

Something went sailing over a hill on the edge of his view, bouncing twice to come to a stop as it pinged gently off his foot on the grass. Were he to pick it up, the unmistakeable form of a golf-ball rested between his fingers - one, it seemed, that twinkled curiously, as though it were hewed from the depths of some great star... though, his admiration may have been cut short by the realization of just how heavy it was in his hands.

"Oh, well look who it is."

Whistling a jaunty tune, the master of the strange pocket of space and time appeared over the hill. He was dressed as casually as ever, this time with a cap on his head completing the ensemble, a golf club propped up against his shoulder as he looked down at Derrick. For once, it seemed, there was nothing in the way of annoyance or irritation in his expression, and it turned into a slow grin as he spread his arms wide.

"My man - Derrick!"

Nobody would have given Zivon a second look on the streets, let alone assumed the place of paramount importance he occupied among the cosmos, or the wrath he seemed to be capable of. In that moment, it seemed like he was just an ordinary guy as he strode down, kicking up grass as he went under his sneakers, in what amounted to the laziest and least glamorous descent of a deity ever recorded in human history.

"You did good out there, kid." He continued;

"One less maniac trying to wreck everything. Lao never saw it coming!"

Zivon chuckled to himself, evidently having observed the events as they transpired, before finally asking as he picked a phantom weed off the end of the club:

"So, what can I do for you?"
 

MKR

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#3
Curiosity, famous slayer of cats, moved him to pick up the odd sphere. While its texture was reminiscent of a golf ball the rest was not quite that, as it was more like one was playing golf with miniature planets. A luxury that were it open to the public was sure to entice many a Lunar noble. Though as he looked over the surprisingly heavy golf ball a thought came to mind, he really shouldn't be surprised that a man with what could be described infinite time on his hands would pick up a few hobbies along the way. In fact Derrick wouldn't be surprised if Zivon had tried everything once already. A thought only confirmed by Zivon calling out to him from atop the hill. As the man did his introduction Derrick put the golf ball back where he picked it up from, not precisely but close enough in his mind.

He was not exactly surprised by the friendly attitude from the man who had proclaimed himself 'Not your friend' to him the last time he came around, though while aware of that he wasn't going to bring it up. Antagonizing the man with godlike powers was not what one could say, a smart move. So for now Derrick simply calmly made his way up the hill.

"Hey Zivon." Derrick calmly returned the greeting, nodding with the next two statements he indeed didn't see that coming given the surprised yell at Lao was devoured by the Dark God of destruction. Then again no one really came into it expecting to be the one on the sacrifice table themselves did they? He certainly didn't when he signed up to Gragios' school of the exceptional.

Or perhaps better to call it 'His Dark Muse's hall of forbidden knowledge'.

"As for why I'm here," He continued "There's a few questions and theories I have and you would be the only one capable of answering them to my knowledge." He didn't come here lightly nor without merit. That was a surefire way to get the man that disliked Mortals to dislike them and him even more.
"I've encountered some things that made me think during this journey so far, premier among which was a mural of me and-" Derrick gestured towards the Angel that stood besides the Angel's little garden now instead of having ruined it.
"it."

A sigh from the man before he continued "The 'natives' to this space ship called the mural, and me, death and indeed plants wilted at my presence and one even got burns from touching me." the Lunarian looked down to make sure the grass here wasn't having that selfsame reaction to him as he spoke before aiming his gaze at Zivon once more.
"And that in and of itself already raises several questions, and a theory."

"See, I expect that this is not the first time you've called on me, or maybe I should say 'me'. Because those selfsame things that made me convenient in your words, half of all of Gragios' followers meet those criteria so you had no need to introduce me to him for such a thing." The man spoke matter of factly, his time was not accusatory at all.

"And when I saw that mural that all clicked for me, we've done this dance before haven't we? Maybe a hundred years back in time, maybe in one of the many worlds that no longer exists between here and home." His eyes went upwards to the kaleidoscope sky "As for why my presence was 'death', I feel I have you or the Astranagant to thank for that and at this point its hard to tell which."
 

GEAR

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#4
Zivon motioned for Derrick to follow, the two treading their way across the grass as he listened. Any kind of reaction to Derrick's words, if any, seemed muted, but the mention of the mural, of the Swordian, did at the very least solicit a slightly raised eyebrow. Still, he didn't interrupt, letting the Lunarian finish his questions as they reached the top of a small hill. Here, he paused, as if he were simply savoring the clean, fresh air.

"Do you realize what's happened to you?" He said, finally.

"Has it sunk in, yet?"

He gave a low chuckle, and there was that glimmer in his eye - that reminder that he was anything but human, as he looked out on the horizon of his hand-sculpted corner of heaven.

"You aren't like them, Derrick. Not anymore." He said, "Your soul's out of the cycle. No samsara for you. No death. No rebirth. Causality works in interesting ways.- trust me, I would know. Comes with the job."

He paused, seemingly just for dramatic effect, and gave him a pat on the shoulder, and a squeeze, as he looked him dead in the eyes.

"You just are."

The moment, the statement, seemed to hang in the air, before he released his grip with a shrug, plopping the ball to the ground as he began to tee up, letting the iron in his hands slide down, where its head seemed to reflect all the colors of the rainbow - if only for an instant.

"Now, that doesn't mean you can't be killed. Volkruss probably thought he was invincible too."

Thwock!

With unnering precision, he struck the ball, sending slinging off into the sky. Before Derrick's eyes, it seemed to warp and change, as though distorted, the comet returning to its true form as it sprinted across the stars. Zivon scowled at losing yet another ball, before turning his attention back to Derrick.

"Didn't work out."
 

MKR

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#5
Hearing and seeing Zivon speak it was evident the man was enjoying Derrick's stumbling in the dark or so he made it seem at least, still the following sentence also made it sound like he cared about that. After he was released from the reaffirming pat the man turned himself towards the horizon, moving his rear onto the grass and looking towards the golf swing.
"I was worried it was something of the sort." Derrick replied as he watched the ball travel into the sky. It was no answer to his question but it was to the underlying question. So pressing him on the matter was not of import.

The web of fate had released him and caught him in the strings of Causality, it was an odd thing no real elation or relief but it didn't feel bad at all. It was more akin to a lot of things in the past while making sense now.
"No it did not for him. Though I doubt weapons such as the one that damned him to non-existence are plentiful my flesh seems a lot less durable then his." A gaze upon the Black Angel below, even that could not boast that regenerative power that much was true. Even if the rest of its power was plentiful.
"So I will continue to exist as I am then, frailty and all?" He wondered what would happen if his heart was pierced, if his brain was shattered pain was clearly still present as he still felt the grass in his hands. All senses continued to serve their duty and feed him that information and the fallacies of humanity seemed ever present.

Probably didn't get him his own pocket dimension either.

"So that is what he meant, 'Neither Man or God, So as I am, so shall you be'." Derrick spoke softly, musing mostly for his own sake, what an odd course life had taken it seemed they were a mirror now, he and Abramelin, both men who had their original lot in life taken from them by Gragios although Derrick took a stop in the middle to meet Zivon they were now cast into the role of beings between two forms of life. Both of them had slain one of the three Dark Gods now too.
That did mean Gragios had been scammed thrice over, one his soul, two the Astranagant and three Abremalin.

"So I have to wonder, did you send him?" He asked, peering back over to Zivon "Abramelin that is."
It was a thought that arose once before but it made sense, the man had worked on the key component of the Astranagant and his interests seemed to lie in the same category albeit from a more mortal point of view. A statement he gave to the man came to mind, a million, billion churning gears moved at once and now it was clear. In the question of whether he was operator or but another cog, the answer was both and neither. A foolish answer but the only one which could be given.
 

GEAR

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#6
Zivon nodded along, though whether it was just wanting to get to the end of the conversation. To Derrick's earlier observation, he spoke airily, producing from his pocket a can of beer, whose top hissed and spat as he fingered it open. The brand on the side was unrecognizable, its characters and language entirely foreign... for this world, at least. He took a hearty, grateful swig, contemplating his answer.

"Think of it like this." He said, at length.

"You are who you are. Your will, your mind, are both real, sustained by your perception of yourself. They are what holds the "you" as you are together, and keeps it from bleeding into everything else." He paused, giving a grimace, as though at the memory of something deeply unpleasant.

"You don't want that."

He shook his head, seemingly knowingly, at this cryptic statement. It was clear he was, at the very least, trying to "dumb down" what were incredibly complex functions, the mechanics of the soul, into easily-digestible packages for the young reaper.

At the mention of the name, however, Zivon's face screwed up, brow furrowing as he blinked uncertainly. Things were suddenly... Quiet. Terribly so. Even the faux, playful zephyr had stopped blowing, leaving just the two in staid silence.

"...Who?" Said Zivon, finally.
 

MKR

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#7
That explanation made enough sense keeping the human, or close enough, mind together and not intermingled with the area around him was a very appealing concept to the man who liked living. So keeping his mind and will intact was a good precaution to take, and it also showed how one didn't need an Astranagant to kill him. As scattering his sense of self sufficed for lethality.

Derrick's eyebrows rose as he rose to his feet once more the wind no longer caressing him in this eerie moment of quiet as if all had stopped to hear the answer, he hadn't been sure of Abramelin being one of Zivon's cohorts but he had expected it given how the man's motives seemed to align with Zivon's so far so the man being completely unaware of him was... Unusual. Worrying even.
"Abramelin Zahed, a friend of mine and one of the people indebted to Gragios which also helped with construction of the Astranagant?" It was due to all these factors he expected Zivon's involvement, it all lined up with his modus operandi so far. His man on the ground, someone to make sure events lined up in the way needed to get Derrick and with the man's elimination of Gragios he also seemed to be the one to carry out the debt removal Zivon spoke of.

"A man burdened with the black knowledge, I thought he was in league with you as he displayed an interest in the state of the world as well as breaking Gragios' godshard." This was making him nervous, more then he'd like to admit. The fact that he had done something so major and remained unknown to Zivon was... Unusual then a phrase he said came to mind. Derrick pausing as he looked to Zivon.

"He said he'd seen the 'dark, beating heart of the universe' in his journeys." At the time he had interpreted it as that Abremalin had gone through series of events as him but now it was a lot more menacing especially with what came after.
"And he displayed interest in the Ain Sof and its connection with me."

How he hoped the description of the man's actions would stir the memories of the being before him, that he had but known Abremalin by another name, perhaps the name from before he donned the mask of Abremalin. Such would be the best that Zivon would laugh it off and go 'Oh him,' as the winds picked up again and go 'you had me worried for a moment'.

But something told him, that was not the case.
 

GEAR

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#8
Zivon listened with rapt attention as Derrick spoke, outlining Abramelin's impossible-to-forget features. It seemed almost as if the entire world around him was bending down to eavesdrop, even the grass lilting gently sideways at his feet, as though to crane a reedy ear. At length, he exhaled slowly, shaking his head and opened his mouth - but, in a rare moment of self-reflection, seemed to catch himself, hearing out the rest of Derrick's description in silence.

At the mention of the Ain Sof, his features visibly hardened.

"There's no-one by that name in the Records." He said darkly, adding as he tapped the side of his head idly:

"I would know. Obvious pseudonym, but..."

He stopped to think once more, stroking his stubbly chin. Serious concern was etched into every corner of his features, and even his usual sarcastic drawl had all but vanished.

"Whoever... whatever this is, they are not our ally. The Ain Sof is for you, and you alone. Nobody else."

The words were spoken with such grave seriousness that Zivon's gaze seemed to bore into Derrick's own with its intensity. Not even Gail had been able to approach the black machine without it burning him - perhaps lending truth to his words. What really was the Ain Sof? What did it want with him? These questions hung in the air as Zivon continued, firmly:

"For it to fall into the hands of another would spell catastrophe. The undoing of the universe at best, the natural order at worst."

There was the sound of bending, crumpling metal, as Zivon crushed the can in his hands as easily as if it were paper mache, leaving strands of leftover beer to run between his fingers.

"Wipe him out Derrick." He said, with all the warmth and candor of a slamming coffin lid.

"Consider that a top priority."
 

MKR

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#9
Catching the man closest to omniscient by surprise was... surprising, the fact that it had not been the doing of one of the major players Zivon kept an eye on at all times was also worrying as there aught to have been very few capable of it and one would think Zivon would know and keep track of all of those but one, one seemed to have slipped through the gap, or perhaps at least one. Shaking that train of thought off of him Derrick contemplated Abremalin, the man behind the man was Zivon's issue until they began to personally mingle in the action.

The monster in man form spoke with severity, before when Gail arrived it was fury at the man's presence. This, this was not fury at something else the closest it came was fury at oneself to have let this happen, the crushing of beer a tone of voice like a undertaker, gave this an even more horrible feeling then when the man had flaunted the shadow in the sky against Gail. Abremalin had been deemed top priority but he was a symptom, the cause was elsewhere. A severe symptom all things considered but still not the cause unless he had somehow managed to erase himself from the Records. Given his work on the internals of the machine, that was theoretically possible. But not his part to mill over, Zivon knew those intricacies better then he ever could so let him deal with figuring out the details for now.

Much as he didn't like the idea of having to kill a friend who had not been hostile so far, the threat was clear. And it was one that sounded like his prime weapon would not work against. Derrick sighed at the situation. An internal thought, 'why do all my friends turn out to be inhuman monsters at other sides of some interdimensional conflict'.
"That much is evident," The man's tone was less one of annoyance and more that he should have seen this coming. "either way thanks for clearing some things up, I'll start my search now."

Derrick started to march down the hill, towards the black angel. The contents of which were decreed his, just when he thought he could get some rest.. No, there was never any rest for the wicked.

Between Time and Death there was a contest which job was worse, Time needed but care about one second every second. It had to pass everywhere at once that was of course true but it meant he could sit in one place central to it all and monitor every corner of time. In the meanwhile Death appeared multiple times per second or even millisecond on all sides of the world, it was smaller in scope but went back and forth all the time. Either one could claim they had the worse lot in life, one having to watch all of creation while another needed to race across it.

The winner of this contest was always debatable, and would not be debated today.

As they both could agree, a man which was neither of them that existed not in time and counted not the living had no right to exist.
 

GEAR

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#10
Zivon watched Derrick leave in silence, an understanding effectively reached... and let out a long, tired sigh. At least, he thought, he was taking his role seriously now. He had expected a lot more pushback, but the gravity of the situation, perhaps, was finally starting to settle in. On a marble bench, Zivon sat, the Astranagant vanishing into the void beyond as the skies turned into a curious reflection of the night, perhaps reflecting the mood of its creator, as the myriad souls released from Volkruss spiraled away into the great beyond.

To some, it would have been an inspiring sight, but to Zivon... It barely even registered.

So, he thought.

One of them had managed to get out from underfoot somehow. That was unexpected. Even so, things were falling into place much as he had expected them to. The futile flailings of the old reject and its abhorrent nemesis, that putrid slime of the soul, concerned him little - but he at least hoped that watching them tear each other's throats out would be entertaining before they too vanished over the causal horizon for good. There was a great deal to look forward to, given how long they had plagued him.

The will of the Ain Sof would be done. Of that, and that alone... He was certain.

He sat there by himself for some time, watching the show overhead. Slowly, yet surely... He felt a familiar presence creeping closely, skulking around the edges of his vision, encroaching on the edges of his territory. Like the gentle shaking of a picture, a formless hand reaching out to touch his ethereal self from the great beyond... and raised a hand, as though to ask for patience.

"Relax." He said, smoothly.

"It's being handled."

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The fringes of his domain ceased their flickering... and he was alone once more. Shaking his head, he turned his thoughts back to the tasks at hand, perhaps grateful this interlude at least, had been a brief one.

Contrary to popular opinion, time's marching forward was anything but easy work.