Now that I am free from my 57,000 word story, I find myself thinking of a hundred one-shots. Here's one of them. I really like it, and, hopefully, you like it too.
Read!
Release
Hovering on a thermal, the black bird surveyed the dusty ruins. There was not a sound to be heard save the occasional drone of a war wasp. It had been this way for quite some time now. Then, movement caught the bird's eye. Far below was a something, a creature of the same color as the sandstone. The bird's curiosity was sparked, and, moving off the thermal, it began to drift down. There was no need to hurry. Whatever was down there was moving very slowly, almost painfully so. The bird tucked in its wings and perched on a ledge three stories above the wounded creature.
The bird had seen beings like this before--tall bipeds with bird features. They had always been kind to it, tossing it crumbs and cooing in calm tones. The bird trusted the creature and swooped down, asking for food.
Birds have no language to name their world with but live by collective intuition. And, as such, the bird knew the creature but not its title, Chozo. Birds also have very acute senses of time and space but no way to form these feelings. The time since the beginning of the War on the Great Worm was some three months ago.
Maimed from crown to toe, the Chozo was withering. It was not dying, for it could not die. Scarred with blood, dust, and flecks of Phazon, the sentinel moaned in ceaseless agony. It was losing its mind; its very soul was being ravaged by the Poison.
The Chozo collapsed, crawled a few inches, and then stopped. The bird landed near it. Head bobbing, it pecked at the gravel around the Chozo's outstretched hand.
Blood. The bird could smell the radiation, could suddenly sense the sickness of the thing before it. Fear, ancient instinct of all creatures, swelled up in its chest, and it tried to take wing.
Too late.
The Chozo snatched it before it could even leap. Wicked claws punctured the bird on all sides. It screamed for freedom, wings beating the air futilely. It bit and clawed, but its tormentor squeezed and crushed all its bones at once. Blood trickled from the bird's mouth down the Chozo's arm and dropped onto the ground.
Shrieking for the whole ruin to hear, the Chozo dug into the bird with its other hand and ripped it in two. Feathers, sinew, and innards flew everywhere, some spattering the murderer. Cold, blue radiation emitted from its fingertips and spread over its body like electricity. The blue reached its eyes and glazed them over, making them opaque and ghostly. Wrenching its head back, the Chozo gave one final scream in a forgotten tongue. Then, it dropped, seemingly dead.
Release me. Let me go. Let me die. Please, release me!
A primal voice, octaves below and above the Chozo hearing range, answered back. It spoke without words, using telepathy and energy.
Do not corrupt me. Do not damn me.
Images of an impact, molten Phazon, and fire.
You are limbo, neither alive nor dead. I am not meant to spend eternity with you.
Oozing out, the translucent face of Metroid Prime appeared. It laughed.
I will not serve you! I am Cuchbail the Chozo Warrior!
The voice brought forth graphic scenes of Chozo slaughter. They perished by explosion, drowning, and at each other's hands as waves of Phazon covered Tallon IV.
The Cipher will contain you, and I, even if you bind me as a ghost, will oppose you for every moment of eternity. You will never conquer us or any world.
Icy, metaphysical tendrils searched through Cuchbail's consciousness. Fleeting glances of Chozo text and statues. Words spoken by the Elders. Prophecies of a Defender.
What are these? You are right to fear them.In the darkness of limbo, the voice roared at its captive, demanding obedience and information.
The Newborn. The Hatchling. Our lore says you will be struck down. You may take me now, but I place my hope in her.
Then the Great Worm seized Cuchbail's spirit and transformed it into a twisted thing. Flickering with dimensional flux, the Chozo Ghost descended and began to make its rounds about the Chozo Ruins.
Dimensional flux was not a pleasant thing, belonging to neither the dead nor the living. The Chozo Ghost could not sate its bloodlust. It wanted to live, so it sought out the living. And, upon finding life, it would suddenly yearn for death. Cruel, demented rage would seize it, and it would rip through the living with talons and screaming and pulsing radiation. Every living thing that went before it was destroyed.
Limbo had no time. Every moment was a century and every millennia was a minute. Whenever the time felt right, the Chozo Ghost would reinforce its identity.
I am the Chozo Ghost.
And every time, though it grew fainter each time, Cuchbail would counter.
No, I am Cuchbail.
The Great Worm had forced Cuchbail deep into the recesses of his consciousness. He had sworn to fight the corruption, but time had imprisoned him in the core of his being. It was the only place the Poison had not yet reached; it was his only foothold. But, the Poison would get there too, and soon this disobedience would be finished and Cuchbail would be no more. Only the Chozo Ghost would remain, an extension of Metroid Prime.
Squatting on a tree edge in the Arboretum, the Chozo Ghost waited. Someone was coming. Flashes of orange. Chozo power. Prophecies.
The Hunter!
The corruption could sense the Defender coming and hatred filled its every atom.
She came through an energy door on the opposite side of the room, and the Ghost drew in its breath with a hiss. She came to stop the Great Worm's spread; she was the enemy. Fury, more than bloodlust, more than savagery, rose up in the Chozo Ghost. It lifted off its ledge and let out a shrill cry. Absorbing all the nearby energy into itself, the Ghost plunged the room into darkness.
It attacked on all fronts. It vanished and flew by, raking the Hunter with its claws. Rematerializing on a ledge above her, it rained down blasts of blue-white power. The black Arboretum was afire with Power Beam shots and the Chozo Ghost's movement.
The Poison commanded—destroy, annihilate, kill. And all the while, Cuchbail, far in his prison, tried desperately to see what the Ghost saw, to know the victim. He fought to regain control of his spirit.
The Ghost could taste pain; the Hunter was weakening. But, it could not taste fear. It went into a bezerk.
Blitzing the Hunter, the Chozo Ghost struck her down. She fell on her back and tried to crawl backwards, away from the fiend. Her back met the Arboretum tree's side, and she could retreat no farther.
The Ghost stepped on her arm cannon with its foot and held it there despite her struggle. It drew close, and laughed, such an evil sound, at the Hunter. Energy flooded from its hands as it raised them up. Light shone all around, pouring through the Hunter's visor and revealing her face. The fatal blow was almost ready.
Cuchbail had fought for what seemed to him, trapped in limbo, an eternity when he regained his spirit. He flashed behind the Chozo Ghost's eyes and saw the victim.
The Newborn! The Hatchling! My Hope!
The Poison's dominion over him was pushed aside. Cuchbail let off the Hunter's cannon and rose up into the air. He extended his arms, and the energy dissolved back into the room. Appearing as a crucified creature, he spoke.
Release me.
The Hunter obliged. His corrupt form evaporated before the Power Beam and restored light to the Arboretum. His spirit finally freed, Cuchbail went to join his kin in the afterlife.