Nightmare Nowhere

Never had Vega felt a fear so intense, so violent, and so hopeless as she did then. What words she used to describe Ani Arma’s presence and form never met the mark.

Terrible.

Terrifying.

Evil.

And by all things holy, menace.

As she backed up, Vega came up with a phrase. A phrase to properly put into terms that was Ani Arma.

An Ultra Evil Menace.

And this was supposed to be her creator? A killer, a man that invaded lands and even dreams? Vega wondered how she was created by this man, and for what purpose.

Of course, she knew her own purpose, she had written it down and she had called upon it to fuel her magic. But that didn’t change the fact of what Ani Arma had said to her. That he claimed and he was her creator. What did he, no, what could he have designed her for?

The two could not be more different, more opposite, more alien and foreign to each other. Like night and day. Like the sun and moon. Like Iozians and Tripolians.

In that despair Vega tried to find something, anything redeemable or could find herself in.

Rigid like a metal statue and sharp, Ani Arma had designed this armor to perfection. There were no blemishes or wrinkles, not a hint of flaw or failure. While Vega herself was a hodgepodge of wood and sewn fabric along with steel replacements for lost limbs. Her face was stitched together, her hair was irregular hay. And Ani Arma’s supposed hair was red chainmail, floating above him like an erupting volcano.

Surrounding him was a hue of cold blue, a strangled blue. Each step he took Vega could feel her fibers shake. She couldn’t move no matter how much screamed in her head to move. She was vulnerable, she wasn’t safe.

“Ah… it’s so nice to see you with my own eyes…” Ani Arma was but a few inches away from her. She could feel his fiery breath and his gleaming white eyes burning into her.

“Vega! Move! What are ya-ya doing?!” The shadow tried to knock some sense into her, but he too eventually froze up when Ani Arma looked at him.

“...I… ya a-are here. R-right here.” Vega stuttered out, backing up a single step. She wanted to sprint, she wanted to run as far away as she could. Yet there was some connection, some insanity inside herself that was keeping her here.

The word Vega came up with was curiosity.

He was here, face to face. Her creator. The one that had been talking down to her, calling her and her efforts foolish. Vega had proved him wrong, yes, but Vega now realized how sorry a mistake she had made.

“Indeed. I am here. I have to say, Vega, you have gone above and beyond my expectations. Well done.” Ani Arma bent down to Vega’s level, and with one freezing cold hand he grabbed her hair. As he did and brought it to his face and breathed in.

A pang of disgust struck Vega, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She threw Ani Arma’s hand away and proceeded to slam her fist directly into his face.

A loud clang noise came out as she punched him, but he stood there, unfazed. Soon after he started laughing, a laugh full of heart and coughs. Like he was seeing the most pathetic being slip and fall.

“My my, you must really hate me. Ah, the feelings are mutual.” Ani Arma took her fist and unballed it, and examined her glove hand. As if tracing the steps of a long ago journey.

“What a-are ya doing?” Vega pulled her hand back, feeling a chill on it.

“Reading your palm, dumbie.” Ani Arma shrugged slightly, which Vega didn’t know if he was joking or not.

“O-okay. Ya… what are ya really doing?” Regaining a little composure, Vega turned on heels and looked at Ani through her hair. If he wanted to attack her, he would have done it already. At least, that's what she hoped.

“Aww, I can’t visit one of my friends? I suppose that is a bit concerning.Here’s an idea, how you say, annoyances.” Crunching down on her neck, Ani Arma lifted her up with one hand. She tried to break out of the grip but all she got was more chuckles from him.

“Nnnh, let go-go!” Vega swung for his face again but her arms were too short to reach. Throwing his head back in laughter, Ani Arma let her go and dropped her to the ground.

“Really? I mean, really?” Crouching down to her level, Ani Arma pressed a finger on her forehead.

“Shut-shut up!” Vega realized how futile it all was and that Ani was doing this all to humiliate her. If he wasn’t going to control her mind, he could at least get a good laugh from seeing her upset.

“Seriously, this is the thing that bested Runtaii? I know the lad went mad, seeing most of your troops get crushed by Blight Elves can do that. But seriously? I thought he’d at least get to the gates, at least kill one of your friends.” Ani tilted his head and rested it on his knee. He breathed out a sigh, unhappy with the result of the battle.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Ya…ya didn’t plan the attack?” Vega kept crawling away, looking for anything that she could use as a weapon. Still, Ani Arma didn’t plan this invasion?

“Well, I planned most of it. Thing is, Runtaii decided to do it way too early. He lacked the troops and resources to do it, probably why he’s rotting in a grave right now and you aren’t. Regardless, you have impressed me and annoyed me.” Ani scratched a circle on Vega’s chest, making her freeze in fear.

“W-what do ya want? I d-don’t get-get it. Why me? Why me?” Vega closed her eyes, not wanting to look at Ani any longer. Her only escape was just to look away and imagine he wasn’t there.

“Because you’re a test. A more, elegant, way to describe you is that of a sketch. A sketch an artist makes before they make a wonderful painting.” Ani gestured with his hands wide and tall, as if he were going to paint on the very continents himself.

Sketch. That’s a word that oddly made sense to Vega. With the shadow talking about tests and numbers, she knew she was the first of her kind, outside of the shadow. But the way Ani had described solved a modest amount of puzzles that she had been asking of herself.

She was a test. A test of a construct. The beginning of something a hell of a lot more sinister.

Opening her eyes, she analyzed Ani Arma far more closely. At the interlocking metals, at his mask that concealed his face, and his gauntlets that were claws.

Earlier, the shadow had said that Vega would need to be made of flexible material. Anything else wouldn’t be able to move.

A dangerous thought entered her head.

What if Ani Arma was planning to create a new construct?

Would she get an answer from him? Vega wasn’t sure if she wanted or didn’t want to find out…

“Vega, you have to get out of here.” The shadow whispered to her, as Ani had been going on a rant about art as she was thinking.

“I don’t think-think I can.” Vega pushed herself back up, wondering if Ani had heard the shadow.

“-Think you can what?” He turned his gaze to her, piercing like a speeding arrow.

“T-think-thinking… about… why?” Vega clasped her hands together, feigning friendliness.

“You are a weird one. Why what?” Ani pointed at her, waiting for her to explain. Coming up with a random yet important question, Vega spoke.

“Why did ya talk down to me-me? Insult me… Why do ya tell-”

“Tell you that you’re useless? Because that’s what you were for a long time.” Ani told it like it was, turning his back on her to admire the dreamscape. For how plainly he answered the question, Vega felt oddly hurt. Like that was the only option for him, to be mean and hateful.

Yet a word prodded at her, the word were.

“Were?”

“Yes. Past tense. All I originally needed from you was to see if I could really do it.” Again, he spoke plainly, gesturing Vega to join at his side.

“Vega. Run. Please.” The shadow pointed back the way she came, far away that Ani wouldn’t see them. But Vega didn’t listen, she kept looking at Ani Arma.

This being the only interaction that was vaguely neutral, she joined him..

Both of them stood at the edge of the tundra, looking up at the floating islands of memories she made and didn’t remember. A nearby island was full of people she had met, all currently running from a boulder with Runtaii’s face on it.

“Are… are my dreams norm-normal?” Vega sat down, sensing that Ani wasn’t going to strike her again. At least, that’s what she hoped.

“I don’t know. I… I don’t dream anymore.” The single pause Ani Arma had made him seem a bit vulnerable. That underneath all that armor was flesh, was heart and organ. That this terrible man could be hurt, could be defeated.

“Hey…Do what?” Vega stared down at the dream void.

“Hmm?” Ani grunted, surprised that Vega wasn’t fighting him. He half expected her to try and shove him off, but here she was talking. Like they were acquaintances rather than enemies.

“To see if I could really do it. Do what?” Vega mimicked his voice surprisingly well, making Ani chuckle once more.

“You’re smart, you can figure that out for yourself.” Ani shook his head, knowing that Vega was getting very curious.

“Then… what do ya need from me now?” Vega fell for the bait.

“You remember that Black Box, the one you gave thoughtlessly to Oligarch Tibato? That was the key to defeating me. Now it's locked. Safely away. Out of sight. Out of mind.” Walking away, Ani approached one of the statues and enjoyed its strange style. Hearing Vega’s footsteps, he turned his head towards her.

“W…why are ya telling me this? Isn’t that kinda stupid?” Vega felt a little more insulted. That the task of bringing the Black Box was for his sake.

But soon, Ani would make it her own.

“Haha! I suppose it is, but no! Because I want to see you fight. Fight me.” Ani was telling the full truth, no lies nor deception. And Vega knew that with all her heart and soul.

“Fight ya? I don’t get it. Ya… ya have been calling me useless all this time and now? Now I matter to ya?!” Vega screamed at him, upset that he was toying with her like this. That she wasn’t an obstacle or a foe to defeat, but a toy.

“Ah, don’t feel too bad. In fact, you should feel proud!” Ani’s eyes glowed like warm suns, which made Vega jump in shock.

“P-proud? Are ya kidding me?” Vega balled her hands into fists, enraged that Ani was praising her all of a sudden. That her efforts had no meaning beyond the spectacle.

“Because of your, how you say, great labors, I want to see how far you can really go. How much of a warrior, nay, a killer you are! Initially, I thought you a slave, a servant at best. But now, I recognize you.” Ani placed a great flair and respect on Vega’s claims. On Vega’s actions. On Vega’s hopes and dreams.

Although Vega still felt hurt, she couldn’t help but to feel Ani was the one who got her. Not Skaldi, not Florato, not the Shadow, but him.

Ani Arma really knew Vega, even the smallest fraction of her, and exploited that.

“R…recognize?” Dropping his hands to her side, Vega lowered her head. On the ground, three tears feel and splattered.

“For who you claim to be. A… how you say, destroyer?” Ani spoke as if he were promising Vega a dream. A world that was out of her imagination. Where she was who she choose.

Vega had a question. A question of what was her Soul Gem.

“...who was I built from?” She asked, like a child asking for a parent.

“Hmm? Sorry, you are speaking way too quietly.”

“Who… was I built from?” She asked, like a child asking for help.

That’s what she really was, underneath all those scars and tears. Underneath the animated eyes and smile, there was something universal.

A child that was scared.

A child that wanted to know who they were.

A child that wanted the truth.

A ghost of a child that wanted to be free.

“Vega, don’t listen to him! He’s doesn’t have the answers!, No-no one has the answers except the ones ya can find.” The shadow gripped onto her shoulders, trying to mentally and physically shake her. But the words didn’t get through.

“...please. I’d… I’d like to know.” Vega stepped towards Ani, still not looking at his face.

“Vega, I-I can tell you! P-please, don’t trust him!” The shadow had answers, but not all that Vega desired. He tried and tried and tried to make her stop, but he was only a shadow that followed her.

“Oh, are you sure? Because the truth can hurt you. Or, you could say, I can hurt you.” Ani’s eyes glowed a mysterious purple, waiting for Vega’s final answer.

The scarecrow held out her hand, ready to accept his terms. Whatever the cost, she would have her history. She would have her memories. The scarecrow would have her life.