A Game of Worlds and Chaos

Cyra shook their head, trying to force their eyes to focus. "What? Do you want me to say God? I don't believe in any of that, so fuck off."

The scientist groaned. "Why are you acting like you're the same as any other person?"

"Oh, I'm not the same as any person." Cyra rubbed their temples, stone grating against stone. "I'm better."

Sage peered closer at the four-armed being. "How interesting. Could you rub your temples again?" She could've sworn that when they did, there was a sound like sandpaper against sandpaper, or stone against stone. But if their skin was truly made out of some rough substance like that, how did it manage to not abrade away? Erosion turned even the largest boulders into pebbles. Unless their skin regenerated itself somehow...

The scientist growled. “What are you?”

Cyra snorted. “How original. I’ve never heard that one before. Have you never seen a subterra before?”

The scientist gawked at them. “A what?”

Cyra froze. “Are you serious?”

"I've never seen one either," Sage said dreamily. "Unless you mean subterranean, in which case I believe I live in a half-subterranean world, so I've seen tons of subterranean creatures."

“I don’t.” Cyra groaned. “Where the hell did I end up, the Palace of Delusions?”

The scientist huffed. “Stop avoiding the question! Who created you, and what are you?”

Cyra tried to sit up, before quickly releasing that whatever water in their system remained wasn’t going to let them. “I’m a damned subterra. And we’re back to the whole creator thing. What do you want my parents?”

“I want your inventor!”

Cyra rubbed their temples again. God she was still so cold. “What the hell do you mean?”

The scientist stamped their foot. "You're clearly some sort of machine! No person has skin like that or four arms like that or, just, everything like that," they spluttered. "So tell. Us. Who. Made. You!"

Sage wasn't usually the best at reading emotions, but even she could tell that the scientists were quickly losing their patience. But if all their attention was focused on the "subterra"... perhaps they wouldn't notice if she examined one of the hoverboards organized against the nearby wall for a bit?

Cyra growled. “I. Don’t know. You mean. I am a subterra, born in the British Underground. And the hell do you mean, a machine? Like a fucking train? Do I look like a damn train to you?”

They tried to sit up again, before crashing back down. “Ugh, fuck whoever knocked my hat off. I’m going to send you straight to Hell. If I wasn’t fucking watered like a damn greenhouse plant, I’d rip you all in half.”

"Oh yes, I'd love to go back to Hell," Sage agreed. "I miss home." She started edging towards the hoverboards.

A couple of scientists shuffled backwards nervously, but the irritated one stepped forwards, towards the subterra. "You're in our facilities now, which means it would serve you well not to make threats like that." They snapped their fingers. "Take these two to the labs."

“Stop me you hog-nosed bastard.” Cyra glared at the irritated one, refusing to give them a single hint of power. “You can’t do anything to stop me.”

A group of scientists, most of them thoroughly shaken, starting dragging the table Cyra was on away.

"Oh, I can't?" The scientist raised an eyebrow. "We'll see about that." A dangerous glint entered their eyes.

Sage made it halfway to the hoverboards before a scientist grabbed her by the arm and forced her to walk alongside Cyra. She pouted. "I was just going to see what features they had, I swear!" The scientist gave her a disapproving glance.

Neptune

Neptune took off, tapping their cane with a certain agility that only comes from growing up with Nellie. He narrowly avoided tree branches, not afraid of running into any branches that always seemed to be permanently above him. He strained his ears to see if Raina was following.

Raina

Raina ran through the forest wonderfully, feeling the fresh air against her face and adroitly navigating branches and roots, for a grand total of two minutes. Then she started huffing and massaging her side, which had a stitch in it... Gosh, she really was more of a thinker than a runner.

Neptune came to a stop, holding on the a nearby tree for support. Air whistled through his lungs painfully, but running was worth surviving. “I really-“ He wheezed. “-shouldn’t be doing that.”

He turned his ear towards the place the guards were. “They’re going to follow us again. We can’t stop for too long.” It would take a while before Neptune’s lungs fully recovered, but they didn’t have time for that.

Raina couldn’t do anything except stand there wheezing for a few seconds, bent over with her hands on her legs. Finally, she straightened up and said, “You’re right. Huff. Maybe we can jog this time, though? Sprinting isn’t very energy-efficient.” She wiped some sweat from her brow.

Neptune nodded. "It truly isn't."

He- No. It wasn't he. Not right now. Not anymore.

But Neptune didn't have time to think about that. "Let's get going."