The Foundry | Part Four | Chapter Forty-Seven
the next chapter of my forthcoming novel
The Foundry
by Daphne Garrido
Part Two | Rebuilt; Refound; Reclaimed
Part Four | Unmasked; Unbound; Unleashed
Content Warning: Highly Sexual, Violent. INSANE.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Fuck off!” Poe screamed into the simulated inner-ear of all Zabroth’s competitors — carrying the sweetest tones of her own voice — as their newest abilities allowed.
“I’m going to destroy you all!”
She wouldn’t be winning this fight — not with near-almost the entire Foundry fighting together to bring her down. Poe was loving every second of it, and she knew that. She’d been thinking about this rumble for cycles now; salivating for it.
“We’re proving something tonight y’all!” Leopold’s enormous voice echoed through the arena, something in it sounding more familiar to Rory by the moment, a most unexpected air of realization in the arena’s simulated air.
“Zabroth’s back, babay!”
Poe would spend more time in flight around that outer edge of the arena, then within any Rumble before or after. Zabroth was scared — it knew the moment it landed — heroes would be destroying it from the inside out. There were sixty of The Foundry’s finest in their own custom characters. Many had been lost to fighting themselves in their boredom, waiting for his return to ground, as within those many lifetimes of storyline. So anxious to try their moves, it would prove futile for many of these fools to wait out their shot at the one true Demon King.
Elektra had just not worn a top this time. She was straight-up slaying bitches, taking no prisoners, and making it look — real good. Making it look, real good.
She’d become the star by showing off those jangling melons built by and for her own purest pleasure, always seeming to grow larger each new spawn in the rumble. Their hardened pointers were aimed straight at Zabroth now, and she’d known exactly what she was doing. That hadn’t once been the case for ‘that bitch’, but it certainly was in round three of The Rumble.
Alan had not been informed about the deficiencies of The Beefster’s signature move set, and this was a most planned thing, despite Echo and his own ultimate allegiance in this battle. That character was always designed for him. He would be out of commission for a while.
“The Dark One is back!” that echoed voice proclaimed in perfect timing.
Rory took to redesigning Medusa by her own liking. She’d a tightest ponytail — that hair as black as ever. She’d built this version of her to scare, intimidate, its expressions so furiously muted, and eyes carrying such unbridled rage. It would seem that way to most, at least.
Elektra was ‘all about it.’ She thought this new Medusa seemed sad, and it reminded her of some favorite movie character she wished to have stab her in the side, just as they’d done to some boy near the water in that film.
The built form of ruthless violence had been designed to play to the heart of Echo Béleaph. Though, she’d never have expected what the sight would do to her body. There’d been a fight she started and lost most immediately.
She kept the pain on and it seemed Rory had been enjoying that. Echo was getting little slaps in though. Petty little things which she’d know would fire Rory up. Then she’d tell them the truth, and they’d hate it.
“I love you.” Echo would taunt before biting her lower lip
The backstage area had been utilized most thoroughly at those beginning stages of the battle, while The Demon King stocked up Satan’s Satchel. It was a precious time, of heated beatings and softest kisses, there wouldn’t be a more pleasurable or painful time spent in The Rumble. Though, the hurt was all Elektra’s again. Rory kept hers off, but amped up all the other feelings — Echo had done that last part too.
When Elektra returned from her eventual feast, battered and bloody, everything dripping down the front-side of her largest boobies.
Medusa emerged from the back, Jacobi Ebbentide had been pulling off a — “Sick! No-scope!” — his own words, to Rory, who’d taken them with a smile because she was feeling surprisingly kind. Himself, having chosen to play as the visage of some soldier with a sniper rifle, for a most unfathomable reason.
He reminded her exactly of D'Artagnan when he’d said that; the boy who’d built out Thrasher and so loved his dumbest video games and audio engineering. Jacobi was a much different person; but that was ‘so D'Artagnan’, as Rory would later put it. At least, that boy he’d been before the final moments of his life, when some hero seemed to pour through.
Poe was still having trouble letting him go. He was a sweetheart. They’d spent a bunch of time together and it was a most healing thing for them to begin tapping into their inner children with each other. Echo was so glad to hear of it when Poe finally told her how she felt about the boy. It’s the very thing she wanted for everyone, especially Rory, and was glad D'Artagnan had it to before he died.
Echo had a most incredibly healing moment, when she’d seen this brute traipse in beneath the sound of some blaring song. She knew who it was immediately, they’d shared that song with Echo, and even if it was from a really bad movie, the fact they’d not cared felt brave.
Ashe had always been singing when they were so briefly friends. Recording themself and sending it to Echo. They were really bad — but it was inspiring to hear someone pour out their heart — even more, to Echo, than if it had been well formed.
It took longer than anything else — over all the many times she realized how she’d done wrong, or betrayed her heart — but Echo finally realized it was her pain from what transpired with Ashe that had been a singularly deepest buried thing.
Echo had fallen in love with them, and once that happened for this woman, it would never be something she could change — her heart didn’t lie about people. At least, once she’d learned to listen to it herself, and become the woman she was. They’d hurt her with their callousness, very deeply, and when she was at her lowest spot, yet there was so much about what she’d done to them in response which had been completely uncalled for; most of it.
They were a very hurt person, just like all her friends, and those she’d love; people who deserved to be cared for most, and Ashe more than many of them.
Echo had struck out in with all her fury and pain, far beyond that which they’d created in her life themself, and the stain of having done so sickened her to the thought of them, along with hardening Echo’s inability to forgive them over their own failures in being decent.
She sent an apology at last, and hadn’t hoped for a response. For Echo to later find out that this big ole’ beefcake had been them — which was always how she’d felt their spirit inside — one of those very same types who she’d still not be admitting herself quite beguiled by, despite frustrating smells. This girl was more bisexual than anybody if she could get over her trauma with the men of Earth.
It would be an ever greater boon to her heart to hear Ashe hadn’t just remoted in via some phased connection. They were back, and Echo was going to have a chance to mend things with her heart beside them at The Foundry.
Rory would have her chance to mend things with Jocé too, who’d she only recently admitted to Echo there was a past relationship with. It was actually her falling back in with Jocé which ultimately caused Rory to lose space for Echo in her life that first time around. She was having a great time after swallowing the front end of that dark rider.
“Holy shit! Elektra’s leaving it in!” Leopold roared.
“She doesn’t give a shit!”
The call was a response to Elektra having the shocker all the way up inside Zabroth; at longest last. He was warbling his Cholera screech from the chambers of his epic demon throat.
Leopold was on fire when he’d declared, “Well, this is interesting!”
Something in Leopold clearly hadn’t expected this newest evolution. He’d in-fact been dealing with a powerful realization stowed of late — about Rory. It was her intuition speaking of his own which led her to believe it before she’d been told, without any of the proof he’d recently uncovered.
They were siblings, separated at birth, and time had flown them apart. Yet, it was bringing them back together, here at The Foundry, as with so many others, to build something better for the future.
All Leopold’s research into the workings of The Void, in tandem with Rory’s light, had been set aside for digging into his own most shrouded histories. There was something he’d discovered about them both; a rarest thing, which would be true for no others here in this space and time.
Leopold Nettle and Rory Tyrell were Onokoai.
BEST THANG EVER: The Life and Crimes of New Jack:
https://tubitv.com/tv-shows/662095/s02-e03-the-life-and-crimes-of-new-jack