Firepunks Chapter Two: Awakening, a 9 fanfic

TF: So, here is the second chapter of Firepunks! This took quite a while to write, I did a TON of research regarding the eMails, making sure the events and the dates and the characters and such were correct, giving out tidbits, but not too much information about anything, although it's certainly enough to make somebody wonder!

Wilbur: As usual, she doesn't own anything except us. TF does own 66 though, and Rufus is owned by the same person who was mentioned in the first chapter ... the one with the Underground being a real place in the film? Still forget her name. –_–' iPhones are still owned by Apple, the song "Awakening" is owned by Chris Tomlin, and TPKR is owned by us, including it's characters!

Skye: Expect updates on TPKR shortly. And please review!

TF: Because I always feel like, if I spent days writing a new chapter only for nobody to even comment on it, I feel like it's horrible and whatnot. I updated Stitchpunk Rush, like, what? Two weeks ago? One week ago? And NO new reviews! And I worked a week on that ... :(

Wilbur: Well ... enjoy!

"The end is the beginning of all things, suppressed and hidden ... awaiting to be released through the rhythm of pain and pleasure." – Jiddu Krishnamurti

Firepunks

Chapter Two: Awakening

Thirty-five years later ...

A small, dusty breeze swirled through the destroyed and empty streets of what remained of London, toppled houses, crushed cars, rubble, piles of broken metal and scorched earth, and dead bodies testifying the aftermath of the War of the Machines. There was nothing left. Nothing at all. The Machines, led by the rebelled BRAIN, had become too strong and intelligent, overpowering humanity with their enhanced weapons and machinery, their tools of Death. All signs of life were gone. The people ... the animals ... the insects ... the plants ... the water ... even the bacteria and cell matter.

Gone. Vanished. Extinct, never to return. Man-kind had fought against the very monsters it had created, but it wasn't enough. They had lost. Now, all that was left of Earth was a post-apocolyptic rubble pile inhabited by merciless Machines. Even the sun, moon, and stars were gone, hidden behind the thick canopy of toxic, green gas that hung in the air and created their own artificial clouds, smothering any light that dared tried to filter through.

The wing sighed through the broken branches of a toppled tree, twirling through the shattered, glass window of a ruined house nearby. Passing over the rubble and thick layer of dust that coated everything inside, the moving air whipped down a hall and through what appeared to be a study of some kind, rustling items in it's wake as it vanished out another splintered window, uninterested in it's surroundings now that it knew there were no signs of life. Time to go through the next building ... again ...

An iPhone that was leaning hazardously against a stack of books, disturbed by the gust of air, tilted slightly before overbalancing and falling over, smacking against an unplugged power-bar in it's impact with the wooden table it was on. It bounced before clattering to the floor, and the power-bar teetered on the edge of the desk before following the black device down.

THUD!

In our hearts

Lord

In this nation

Awakening ...

Holy Spirit

We desire

Awakening ...

The electrical appliance crashed into the ground, throwing up several decades-worth of dust and rolling over several times before jolting to a stop upon hitting the iPhone. The iPhone's bounce just moments before had hit a button on a tiny recorder, causing music that was pre-recorded decades before to stream softly out of the slightly-worn speakers, filling the usually silent room. There was silence except for the tune of the song, the dust settling again, when there was a small, faint, rustling noise. It faded away, then returned, louder then before, and the power-bar moved slightly before resting back where it was. More silence.

... Tap. Tap. Tap.

For You and

You alone

Awake my soul

And sing ...

For the world You love

Your will be done

Let Your will be done

In me ...

The sharp, clicking sound of metal against metal echoed through the room slowly, softly, as if whatever was causing it was simply curious. It stopped, and there was a long pause.

... Tap. Tap. Tap.

... BANG. BANG. BANG.

BANG! BANG! BANG BANG!

The clicking turned into hitting, then banging, then literal pounding, as if something was behind a door and wanted out. The power-bar, the source of the frantic noises, jolted backwards as though it'd been hit, rolling over, and the pounding increased in volume and speed.

BANGBANGBANGBANG!

In Your presence

In Your power

Awakening ...

For this moment

For this hour

Awakening ...

The electric bar jerked again, forward this time, as it rolled and clattered across the floor, when it hit a nail sticking out of the wooden floorboards. The sudden jolt brought the power-bar to a sharp stop, and the outlets in the front burst open, revealing a hidden opening in the bar appliance. Instantly a blur of blue and black tumbled out of the opening and crashed to the floor with a startled yelp. It lay still for a moment, then sneezed, and dark steel optics opened, slightly dazed but quickly focusing. It shook it's head before shakily sitting up, dusting itself off and looking around the destroyed room in obvious confusion.

The figure appeared to be a doll of some sort, barely the size of a human hand, and was made out of some kind of smooth cloth that was jet-black in color. Steel-rimmed optics, colored a very dark gray, served as eyes, and the doll's hands and feet were made of black ebony, with only four fingers. It looked like it was wearing a dark blue, hooded jacket, lined with neon-aqua, and a shard of plastic shaped like a "T" was attached to the front of this jacket. The bottom of this jacket ended in a long V shape in both the front and back, and around the doll's waist was a dark brown, leather belt, in the belt studded a gleaming, bright yellow jewel.

At it's left side hung a lighter leather pouch, shut at the moment and marked with a beaded, aqua cross pattern, and around the doll's arms and legs were tied greenish-brown strings. On it's right knee was sewn a white patch in the shape of a lightning-bolt, and a thin strand of black wire curled out from the doll's head like a cow-lick. The being appeared to be male, and on the back of the doll's jacket was visible a hastily-written number in white ink.

For You and

You alone

Awake my soul

And sing ...

66.

The doll, 66, looked up at the ceiling, then down at the power-bar he'd formally been trapped in. He frowned. "Mod ..."

He gasped and clapped his black hands over his mouth, steel-rimmed eyes widening in surprise at the sound that had just come out of him. Did he just do that? 66 cautiously uncovered his mouth. "... Hello?"

That was defiantly him. The doll blinked, then paused. "... Testing, testing, one two three ... anyone there?"

Silence. "... Oh, forget it."

For the world You love

Your will be done

Let Your will be done

In me ...

Despite apparently being completely alone, his mood had brightened a little at the unexpected aspect of speech. Smiling faintly, 66 pulled his jacket hood, which had originally been against his back, over his head where it belonged, somewhat shadowing his already-dark face. He looked back at the power-bar, smilie fading as questions flooded through his mind. How exactly had he gotten in there? As a matter of fact, how exactly was he even ALIVE? He didn't remember anything, and yet, he somehow knew everything, or close to it. That his number was 66, that the thing he had just gotten out of was a power-bar, that the noises coming out of him was called a voice, and individually, letters, which were strung together to create words, then sentences, that the thin, tablet-thing was an iPhone, that–

iPhone?

For You and

You alone

Awake my soul

And sing ...

66 whipped his head around to stare down at the black-cased object lying next to him. iPhone. A mobil device created by the Apple Company, with the ability to go online, write notes, take pictures, keep contacts, download games, send eMails, play music, communicate through phoning– Mod, how DID he know all of this?! He felt slightly creeped out at the moment. It was like someone had just downloaded a ton of information into him or something ...

Leaning over the black touch-screen, the doll paused, then timidly reached out and pressed the indented Home button. Nothing. Was it out of energy? 66 saw a second button up on the top left edge, thin and rectangular, and scooted over, pressing down on this new button hard. Still nothing. Maybe it needed more pressure? He pressed the button again, harder, and kept it like that for a couple seconds. The screen flickered abruptly, then lit up as the Apple logo appeared, and 66 released the button, realizing the tablet-thing was on now. This was cool ...

For the world You love

Your will be done

Let Your will be done

In me ...

What felt like hours, but what was probably mere seconds, passed, and just as the black being was wondering if he'd broken it, the Apple logo vanished, the lock-screen instead coming up. The desktop was a digital drawing of two anthropomorphic cats back to back, with the letters "TPKR" emblazoned overhead. One cat was gray, wearing a black, hooded robe and holding a glowing sword-like weapon – a lightsaber? – while the second cat was yellow, wearing a red and black dress and holding a normal, metal sword.

After a moment, a keyboard popped up on the screen, obviously requesting a pass-code be entered for access to be granted. 66 frowned. Now there was a problem. He didn't know any codes, let alone one for this thin device, but he couldn't just leave it. Something inside of him was nudging him to look through the iPhone, that something important was there, and he just couldn't rest or look around until he knew what it was. He wasn't going to ignore the feeling. No way.

Like the rising Sun

That shines ...

From the darkness

Comes a light ...

66 paused, thinking hard, when something flashed through his mind. He blinked, wondering what the heck that even meant and why that, but gingerly reached out and typed in a single word – "WiFi".

I hear Your Voice

And this is my

Awakening ...

There was a sharp click, and the lock-screen vanished, replaced by what looked like an eMail mailbox, with messages to and from the iPhone lined up. That was strange ... he thought if something was turned on, it would go to the menu, not one of the downloaded apps ... five messages sent out, and three sent in. The feeling in his gut, if dolls even had guts, intensified, and 66 clicked on the first message.

Like the rising Sun

That shines ...

From the darkness

Comes a light ...

August 9, 3009

Firewall –

I have decided to put in action an experiment. I started this War, and by Thames, I will be the one to create what will finish it. I do not want the Chancellor learning of this experiment, and because my movements are being too closely watched for me to allow these projects to stay, I will send them to you. I trust you. Here are your instructions.

I want you to send out your dog, Bolt, once every night, if possible. Direct him to my house and wait. If I have finished one project, I will give it to Bolt in a special case containing the project's blueprints, journal entry, and the project itself. They will probably take only two to three days to create each, for I have been working on their blueprints for twenty years now. They are perfected now, and ready to be made. I want you to guard them from harm while they are in your charge, and do not let any Machine or human besides yourselves see them.

When I have decided the projects are complete, I will send you a special device that is capable of sending my projects into shut-down, or forced sleep, mode for three to five hours. You will also be supplied with directions to a Rebel outpost, where one of my Rebellion friends, Rufus Harland, will take the projects to the Underground. There, they will be kept safe until the appointed time.

Please take care of my projects, and treat them well. To me, they're much more then just projects ... they will be my last gift to this broken and war-torn world. They will be my children. And they will be the ones to end this War for good.

Dr. Julius Bergone

"Project Stitchpunk"

66 blinked in confusion. Stitchpunk? What in Mod was a Stitchpunk? He flipped to the next message, this one being a letter sent out rather then in. Maybe by whoever owned this?

I hear Your Voice

And this is my

Awakening ...

August 17, 3009

Dr. Bergone –

Are you there?

I got the first project on August 11. But it's been over a week now. You said they'd only take several days, so ... what happened? Why is there nothing else? Did something happen to you?

I sent Bolt out a while back, on August 17. He came back with a gunshot wound. He's okay now, but now, I'm getting worried. The Winged Beasts here don't use guns, only human soldiers do. And he went to your house. That's it.

Where are you?

You said there were soldiers watching your house ... God help us.

W. Firewall

Now here was something new. Winged Beast. What in Mod was a Winged Beast, let alone a Stitchpunk? And what kind of "projects" were they talking about? It was like a code or something ... perhaps the next message would help explain. It was sent to the iPhone, so that looked promising.

Like the rising Sun

That shines ...

Awake my soul

And sing ...

August 18, 3009

Firewall –

I'm fine. And so are my creations. It is a relief you received the first project, and I apologize for not answering directly nor sending you a message. My position has become very dangerous, and unfortunately, I also caught a slight cold a week back, so progress was very slow. I was afraid it wasn't going to work this time at all, but thank God, it did. I finished the second project on August 17.

I was meaning to send each project to you as I finished them, but as you can see, something came up. Something I would rather have never happened, and if it did, at least the projects would have nothing to do with it. But they did, all too well, or to be more exact. just the second one. It happened the same day I finished it, August 17, and I very nearly lost everything.

I'd rather not talk about it. My second project was very nearly confiscated, along with the rest of my work. Thank God it wasn't. Now I have nothing to begin work on the projects again, except myself and my memories. I will have to speed things up. My second project suggested I create the third and fourth ones at the same time, and I must admit, it's not such a bad idea. I will have to try it.

I will send the three to you once the next ones are complete – I need the second one for the time being. Keep the first one safe. My analysis seems to indicate, oddly enough, that the first and second projects are siblings somehow ... and I think of myself and Claude ... before ...

Never mind.

I expect myself to to send them to you by the 20th, as observation is needed on the 19th. But I worry. This interruption has not only set askew my time-table, but my emotions. I didn't want this to happen. I planned to simply create my projects, observe their actions and movements long enough to create a portfolio for Rufus to base upon, and then send them to your house in case the soldiers try something. I didn't want to get to know, actually KNOW, them personally, like human beings ... I didn't want to get attached.

My second project, just after the "Mischance", called me Father.

... It will be very hard for me to let him go.

Dr. Julius Bergone

66 sat back, pursing his mouth. He still didn't know what a Beast was, neither a Stitchpunk, but he got the idea these "projects" were something alive. Something that could walk, could talk, could think, could be related, like a human. He somehow knew what a human was – a large being that looked a bit like him, but natural. Created by God instead of ... whoever he was created by, and he knew somebody created him. He just didn't know who.

From the darkness

Comes a light ...

Awake my soul

And sing ...

But these "projects" sounded like they were, despite being alive, made by the Julius person. Why? Why was he creating them? 66 wished the letters said more, but the information they yielded was so minuscule it was hopeless to learn anything beyond the "projects" were alive. Probably small, if they could fit in a case like the first eMail hinted. The the second one was a male, since Julius said "him". He wondered why. Everywhere else whatever-it-was was mentioned, it was called an "it". Possibly Julius wrote that accidentally? It just slipped out or something?

Like the rising sun

That shines ...

Awake my soul

And sing ...

Something was ... or had been ... going on all those years back. Something secret. Something important. Something alive ... something like him.

Only You can raise a life

Awake my soul

And sing ...

And 66 was determined to find out exactly what.

"Of His own will He brought us forth by the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of His creatures."

James 1: 18, NKJV (New King James Version)

TF (TFTime)

Wilbur (Wilbur-Nator)

Skye (RobinsInTheSkye)

Felix (Wreck-It Felix)