#onelight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whenhumanshadwings · 2 years

Text

Freedom in Flight

originally published on OneLight.com, 2011

The lesson in knowing that you can fly long distances with no harm requires engagement, full desire and the commitment to becoming one and remaining one with the Universe as a whole. The spirit of the universe will show each individual this way. Through cleaning the body, true Spirit will contact you, and will remove the covering and blocks that previously kept you from the infinite ability of ‘freedom in flight’.

Trust that the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step in the state of belief.

Everything You Imagine can not only come true, but ‘will’ come true.

This is a cosmic law.

Write your own story – make it an epic, there is no place you cannot go.

If you were to ask a person, an individual, what is important to them they would most likely claim the family, health and then prosperity as well as expression of self as important to their lives.

In terms of ‘expression of self’, this may be in several areas: arts, sports, reading and writing, spending times with good friends, friends that make you laugh, help you think, feel; friends who help you be more accomplished following your passions.

If you were truly given the opportunity to think and share with your friends what to wish for in the destiny of the deeper well, their instinctive desire and ‘need for freedom’ would come up. The indwelling spirit wants to experience or be immersed, sustained in a constant of many states: wisdom, benediction, placement of generosity as appropriate, and the ‘freedom of flight’.

So strong is the desire for the ‘freedom of flight’ at the base of our being, in our will to experience existence, that people will take great strides to reach flight even if only for short periods of time. All over the world individuals and groups practice jumping off high places with bungee cords, base parachutes, out of high airplanes day after day, gripping hang gliders, seeking to capture a moment perhaps minutes of what the freedom of flight can be; albeit under the force of gravity… often straight down. For one to take these plunges using their physical body, there is always the gamble of death or severe paralytic injury as a consequence. One must remain very alert to practice jumping and soaring with their physical body, this precious physical resource that many have waited to receive as a sacred gift what may seem a very long time. One does not want to bring injury to this gift.

Still, the otherwise perfectly sane have many times described a feeling of the rush of intended flight off a balcony they were standing nearby or on. This rush for flight ensuing strikes the person at first glorious and then terrifying. How deep our genetic code draws on our inner need to experience flight! The desire of emotion to fly so strongly mirrors our own wish for immortality, which in turn leaves the mind in its present evolutionary state confused, deliberating, probing, wondering: ‘why, as I am immortal, why is it that I cannot fly?’. In our great whim to fly the jury remains out, we can not judiciously make a mistake, we do not want to die, and then ‘disappear’.

Even for the most discerning of this condition one believes some justice had been mislaid, some thing wrong happened in our past, some thing that keeps us vastly inferior to many of the other species: those who can glide and dive in great harmony through the branches of the trees with nary a cautionary thought in their brain. Until a negotiable settlement is realized and reached- ‘flight by human’ for now is available only to those who know the inner workings of spirit, the knowledge of which remains for All to know and experience.

Headed towards a Heavenly Dynamic

It is presently accepted by many of our surface planet population [believed upon], that what ancient evolutionary skill we have in truly safe flight has been lost, gone, removed from our genetic resources. We are so taken in by flying that even the dream states of flight are often viewed as worshipful, set in the company of godlike visions. One so wants to fly… there surely cannot be a line of demarcation(?) between true flight and dream flight. People have described from personal insight, and not only that in ancient myth, that their wings have been sheared off at the shoulder blades…that they are presently living in a prison devoted to the remembrance of their past whereby they once flew. Truly what we once were and what we are today, are viewed as totally different. Why has such a great abyss divided us from our past?

Once sovereign soaring eagles we humans now are chickens within an invisible electric fence of the stolen mind, our eggs to be harvested and sent to other distant places. We are made dumb just enough to keep us remaining a harvestable species, for how very long, who will tell.

The ability to move by flight from one place to another in this world as in other dimensions has for a moment in this eternity [eternity being measurable] remains reverently sensed as out of our reach. The engagement of this dumbing down process is created and connected to the tissues of our deep subconscious as a holy foundation in our lives’ existence, to remain as a form of secure sustenance to our creator, a suspended belief, not to be interrupted for many, many years to come… if ever. We are told we must remain imprisoned in a body that has no wings, but some day – out there in the future, if we are good a set of wings will be returned to us.

For those who sincerely desire, who ask with the deepest portion of their heart, all is given, including the wings for freedom in flight…today, now, this very moment.

A Method of Flight

For the interim of this measured time, we who practice the awakened divine current of VRIL have learned a method of flight, whereby we may go anywhere with our consciousness intact, awake, clear, valid, of high value and purpose, open eyed – we travel freely and by thought quickly in this universe and more, we have no need to first die, or die ever…no need. We go – move by the desire and will – the whim of the heart.

The Method is Engaging High Energy

In our group of practitioners, we can move directly from one place to another with the experience of flight, or we can walk into another portal of the planet like walking from one room to another, in an instant. This sense of empowerment increases in gradations as the skill to move consciously and strategically increases…becoming more precise, more capable. Overtime the increased adherence to this task results whereby one can move from the surface consciousness of this planet Earth to a comfortable observation point on [like] the grid of a moon of Saturn, as their human body relaxes in their meditation space whether it be in home or office.

For the distinction of the flight process we may define our work in two levels: one, the use of astral travel and second the use of hyper-spacial travel. Though both have their individual challenges, the actual immersion into both these currents of energy requires the removal of blocks causing difficult patterning of clear energy flow in the neural system for the opening of strength [i.e. congestion from trauma, such as that associated with birth, fear of falling, drowning, invasion of animosity, toxic food or air -whatever works on the neural system causing anxiety]. Once one taps into the strength of the Universe, one is no longer a slave to their past belief that they are a mortal stuck on a prison mind planet such as ours: a place whereby fear is continually presented in our media, in schools, the religious fear invasion of family; but that we are Immortals who can stretch to infinity and back, by whim, by the desire of the heart. Not crippled flightless chickens whose DNA resources are to be harvested – continually…secretly, with the blessings of a hidden god of religion.

Through accessing the higher frequencies, the higher vibrations of the body’s will, by immersion into the deeper vibratory states we leave the experience of physical fears and false religious entanglements behind. And through the sustained practice, this model of enduring flight becomes more naturally awakened, occurring, resulting in one being empowered to fly at will anywhere in the universe.

Entering the astral realm we experience free flight, and then in the coming corridor we will have the development of the great experience that of ‘teleportation’, traveling into realms known and not yet known. For one to enter into hyperspace and jump to exalted places as one wishes takes great desire and will; in truth we measure our ability in freedom by these two factors: desire and will.

Getting help for accomplishing this task of flight begins by asking one’s Inner Self: ‘can I truly do this?-will I do this? Is this good for me?’. Through exhausting the soul’s fear shrouded by the previous imagination of doubt, one will inherit the winds of freedom through willful desire.

Once one gets past the cognitive embrace and transcends the inaptitude of the duty to the mind’s cautionary tale – one can see beyond the oblivion of the Void and into the active energy of true flight. A constant reminder of true self.

The mind is required to change to make this leap, to enter into the center of the brain and sit on the throne of the pineal gland – it is an evolutionary leap. One is going from a walking soul to a flying soul. One is achieving what all people want. We can go through all the arbitrary ideas that band us, that keep us from this freedom hidden from our immediate gaze of our original divine power; still the desire for freedom of flight is paramount, it is our natural ability which has been taken from us. One can learn from this alone, that we are a captured and imprisoned species, imprisoned in the depths of our mind which secures our body to this earth plane while removing the true choice of flight from our divine gifts.

As one vibrates stronger in their meditation the paths of sustained flight open up. The fear impressions are released naturally. Human entanglements that have created frustrations are loosened – removed, seen as temporary. One begins the way knowing that freedom of flight is given to any and all who seek.

Seek dramatically. Tell your self that this power, this talent, this skill of flight is yours, yours to own and yours to share as is your desire.

The Domain of Flight

As one raises their vibration, their current, receiving more and more positive VRIL, the mind’s eye will open and the ability to pass through the Inner Eye is given. This is the initiation into the hidden Universe. One realizes that ALL power, knowledge and bliss is accessible and given to the one who first asks this goal is attainable by focus and desire.

The deeper one vibrates the greater their abilities to pass into other timelines, to go distant places, their power of flight grows and grows.

The joy from these experiences is the victory of visiting with the gods, for in your self you will realize once again, the virtue and intelligence of one’s soul is truly expressed by…

…Freedom in Flight.

#onelight #flight #human flight #flying #flying lessons #humans can fly #when humans had wings #psionics #super powers #siddhi #levitation #levitate

0 notes

prince-toffee · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER 4 – Holy Warfare

Hordak knew exactly what he was going to do about it. He knew V was in agreement with Lee, so he didn’t ever bother talking to him about it. Hordak sprang into action almost immediately. He contacted Moe and Drag and briefed them on the situation. And all members of The Defects were dispatched by Hordak across the lands in search of the missing persons. They did not know where OneLight was based, so they had a lot of ground to cover, an entire continent to search. There were suspicions and rumblings and theories, but no one really knew, presumably all who knew and opposed the cult were silenced.

The rain was heavy. Hordak found himself searching the ruins of an abandoned church. The church was, to many inhabitants of Etheria, a holy place. A place of warship. Checking these across the lands was as good of a place to start as any. He figured the irony would be too good to pass up for a cult of crazies.

It was a marble marvel dedicated to praising and worshipping the Queen of BrightMoon and Etheria, the late-mother of now-Queen Glimmer. An important fact about her being that the Queen was actually an immortal. ‘Was’ in the past tense for she was no longer among the living. And her dark fate was partially because of Hordak’s own villainous actions. It was a long story, one he did not wish to tell. But as he entered the almost haunted structure, he couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight of guilt rest upon him.

He did not know the Queen personally, the very opposite, they were rivals on opposing sides of a war. They cursed each other’s names, used them as insults.

They stood for and represented two completely opposing concepts, magic and science. For three decades they amassed armies in hopes of marching to the other’s capital and dethroning them in satisfaction...

And then... she died. She sacrificed herself to defend her world from one of his failed experiments. And then he was left empty. With the immortal Queen’s end there came no satisfaction nor mirth. Simply emptiness. His burning hatred had gotten him nowhere. Perhaps her death was one of the first inklings in his mind that told him he was not the hero of the story, like he was led to believe by his upbringing.

So, he marched onward across a ruin of the holy place, covered in languages he never bothered to learn, paintings he never sawt to understand, and a statue he never chose to see as another living being. There at the back end of the hall, past the fallen over benches, muddy leaves, crumbled tiles, and broken stained glass window shards, there stood a stone statue of the angelic Queen.

The statue of the woman was not maintained well, like the rest of the building. The green moss had crept up on her from the floor. Cracks ran across her. Half of her head had already crumbled away, and one arm had snapped off.

Hordak took a moment to stand with the statue. He had no words for her. He had no idea what he could have possible said. It was strange looking at her, immortalised in a statue, acknowledging that she had passed, that he outlived her. With Glimmer taking over it marked a new era, especially with the war over. Hordak thought to himself; perhaps it also marked a time for him to pass away into stone. He wasn’t old, he was very young, but it felt like he no longer fit into the world. Maybe he never did. His time has passed.

“I am sorry.” He took a small humble bow before the statue, and allowed a brief moment of silence to pass. As he was bowing his head down he noticed something possibly out of place. He was surprised he hadn’t smelt it first. It was a bucket, a faint string of smoke danced up from its contents. Scraps of branches, sticks, leaves, some paper too. Now all blackened ash. A makeshift fire. Either it was a homeless person attempting to keep warm, or it was an indicator that he wasn’t far from his target. Either way someone was close.

“Come to confess your sins?” Hordak followed the sudden voice, and his eyes were led to the view of a rugged dishevelled clone behind him. Dirty face, makeshift shredded clothing. He certainly looked homeless, but how couldn’t he be sure. The clone’s eyes and teeth were a piercing toxic green, connoting he was a reg, a ‘standard-issue’ clone. No defection. Which technically meant he fit the description of a possible cult member. But Hordak did not want to judge his brothers based on their health.

For now he tried to remain cool and calculated, and inconspicuous. Well, as inconspicuous as possible for Lord Hordak of The Etherian Horde, the Warmonger of Wrath, and Baron of Bedlam, could be. If the clone behind him was in fact a cultist on patrol, then Hordak’s red eyes had already set the potential butcher off. “If I were, I’d be here for too many eternities. I am simply saying goodbye to... an old friend. How about you, brother?”

The stranger simply stood there, in silence, his head swivelled from side to side. He began to waltz forward, “I come here because I wish to do good, be good. That, and it rains outside, a roof is highly effective at keeping one dry.” He gave a toothy smile. Seemingly innocent. But smiles could be deceiving. The stranger was now close, too close for Hordak’s comfort. Hordak placed his hands behind his back, under his cape. He pressed a button on his gauntlet which sent out a distress beacon out to the rest of the team.

The clone was now besides Hordak, inspecting the broken statue. “Your friend?” Hordak didn’t know if he nodded, but the stranger ‘hmm’ed as if Hordak had confirmed it. “What brings you to a place such as this?”

Hordak knew he had to buy himself some time, he needed the others, he knew he stood no chance against a reg on his own. Even though... the thought was foolish, yet he felt the string of guilt. He didn’t want to endanger his fellow brothers. It perhaps was a moronic oxymoron, it was him who united the team and through him they have been thrust into perpetual danger, venturing on suicide missions for the Queen. But the thing was, he never expected to care. He always believed that Entrapta and Imp, and to a certain extent Emily, were all that would ever matter to him. Just his small little world, and nothing else to disturb that bubble. He cared for nothing outside of the bubble. And yet...

“I was looking for a brother of mine.”

“Oh? Is he in trouble?”

“In a way. However not through his own missteps. He was a good and loving man. He did nothing wrong, yet an ill fate befell him. He has a family. A loving concerned partner. An innocent youthful spawnling. And friends, who wish for his safe return.” Hordak intentionally dropped details about Quill to personalise him, remind the possible opponent that Quill was a person. To gauge his reaction to Hordak’s word.

Hordak seemed to be unable to decipher the stranger’s face, as it did not change. It did not bode well.

The stranger turned from Hordak back to the statue, after a few seconds he spoke up again, “He did nothing wrong’?... Surely we all do wrong doings. We all make mistakes. Take ‘missteps’.” Hordak knew a villain monologue when he heard one, takes one to know one as the saying goes. He had a bad feeling about this. “Surely you don’t think your friend was perfect. That he had no... flaws.”

And so, ideologies clashed. “I believe that no one is perfect. But whatever he had done in past lives he does not deserve death.”

“Death is a harsh penalty, but it would be fitting some men, or things. Such as those who emerge from evil and darkness. Wouldn’t you say?”

Hordak began to move forward and around the statue to subtly create some distance between him and the stranger. But the clone followed him, slowly and calmly. “No one is born evil. Death and its use as a punishment is not as simple as that.”

“Oh, but some things are born dark and wicked, twisted and macabre. They simply hide it. But eventually everyone shows you their true colours. That is my belief.”

They were now behind the statue, the bucket with ash at Horror’s feet. “I’m sorry, what was your name?” Hordak asked.

“I have no name. Names are for those who are unholy. My designation is: HHG019,000.”

Hordak’s lensed eyes widened, “...Haig.” He heard stories.

“Yes, I believe that is what the grunts named me. A curse in some alien language no doubt. Does my reputation proceed me? ‘Lord’ Hordak.”

“The Battalion Butcherer.”

“It is not ‘butchering’ if it is at the hand of the enemy. A push is a push. A frontal assault is a frontal assault. An order is an order. It is ‘as simple as that’, soldier.”

Hordak had heard enough. He hatched the bucket’s handle on his foot and flung it at Haig. It hit his face, stunning him for a second. A slight searing ‘ssss’ could have been heard. Hordak looked at the statue one last time. “I am sorry.” He pressed his foot up against the stone and with the enhanced strength from the armour he wore he launched the statue at Haig! Knocking him back, against a wall.

Hordak began to run in the opposite direction. He stood no chance alone one on one. His existence was his own disadvantage. He had to be smart.

But no use. Haig took hold of the statue and snapped it in half. He threw the two halves at Hordak who was knocked over by the projectiles. Haig was a living war machine, he was what Hordak could have been. He was too fast.

Before Hordak could fully stand up on his own two feet he was forced to kneel as Haig grabbed his arm. And began to crumple the metal of the gauntlet with ease. Hordak yelped out in pain. “I adore your gauntlet. A distress beacon, yes? I have one too,” Haig raised his arm to reveal a similar device, “However my brethren will get here first.” He spoke with venom.

Hordak pulled back and socked the opponent in the jaw. Haig budged and Hordak saw a speckle of spit fly out of his mouth, but apart from that, it did nothing for him. Haig just held him in place as he witnessed other clones emerge from all sides, all glaring at him with piercing toxic-waste green eyes. He saw the base on which the statue once stood slide to the side as more cultists poured out. Of course, the base was underground. Hordak didn’t get to see much more after that as it was Haig’s turn to sock him in the jaw, and he did. And that’s how he blacked out.

---

For a while black was all he could perceive. But soon where there was darkness there was also dream. He was drowning. He was falling. He was paralysed. The ocean was expansive to the point of infinity, the waters were green, yet calm. As he drowned all he could do was stare upward at the shimmering patterns of the surface water. One moment it was warm and bright like day, with the light desperately trying to break through the surface, but the water blocked it, choking it out. The next, it was night, cold, and he could just barely make out the stars through all the green. Then he hit the sandy bottom. And he lay there, immobilised, long enough for the stars to fade and for the sun to return. And back to the stars. And then daylight. Then night. Then day. Night. Day. And so the sand began to cover his body gradually as he sank deeper. Soon, he could not perceive anything. No daylight. Nor stars. For his red lensed eyes had given out.

---

“Wake!... Wake!” Hordak opened his red lensed eyes to see a clone standing before him. The reg in question wore a white and grey uniform, standard wear for clones in the days of Horde Prime, back in the days of servitude. Now they were free to dress however they liked. The uniform was bright, even in dark rooms. It was toga-like, incorporating a hood and poncho into it. Long grey sleeves and pant legs. And white dress.

“Wake wicked wonderer. You must be conscious and well for the General’s questioning.” The clone’s green eyes alerted him, Hordak had a panic attack. It seemed like that colour was becoming a trigger for him. He huffed and grunted as he pushed against his restraints, only then realising he was chained up to a column. “Calm yourself, pretender. Your speech must be coherent for the General.” Hordak was panting out of breath without uttering any words. The new clone pointed towards a single see-through tube connected to one of the ports on Hordak’s back, feeding a green ooze into him. “The General was gracious enough to lend you his Life Force rations to heal whatever damage he could have dealt you.”

He felt another panic attack coming. “Stop! Get that thing off me!”

The reg seemed confused, “Why are you distressed? Life Force gives us strength.”

“That substance is like poison! It is corrosive! And addictive! That’s why Horde Prime fed us nothing but that! Its healing properties and other positives are temporary effects!”

“Y- Surely you are lying.”

“Clones do not lie.” That gave the reg pause, he looked from left to right in confusion, he looked like he was working things out in his mind.

Hordak took a closer look at the reg’s face. He had fewer grooves running across his golden-plated face than Hordak. And his golden plating was smaller and incomplete. Connoting that he was a young clone, younger than Hordak, who himself was considered a youth. “You are quite young. Aren’t you?”

“...”

“How did you end up in a place as vile as this?”

“Vile?! This is a holy place! One of the last strongholds standing against heretics such as you, traitor.”

“That man you serve, your ‘General’, he’s a monster, he doesn’t care about you, or any like you. But he perfectly embodies everything Horde Prime was. Indifference and bigotry!”

“Liar!”

“I do not lie.” And it was true, no deception. Hordak did not lie. He did not know how to. He was never taught, and he could never afford to. In The Horde there was no privacy, no personal space or private thoughts. Horde Prime was a powerful telepath, no mind could resist him, his reach extended over continent-sized fleets. If a thought was deemed impure or non-essential, it was torn from the clone’s mind and the clone was punished for it. Sent to The ReConformatorium Chamber. A truly terrible fate. There was never need for a rogue thought. Clones didn’t have enough of life experiences to understand and utter lies.

“Tell me, brother, what is your name?”

“I do not have a ‘name’. My designation is: CLE11-”

“No, no, that number does not define you! You are no longer cattle for the slaughter! You can shed that number and take up a name of your own!”

“Why would I want to a have a name?”

“Wha- Wha... What? What do you mean ‘why’?! Because You Are A Person! You Are Free! And Haig Hates You For It!”

“Enough.” A different voice rose up from behind, Haig stopped in, taking up the reg’s space, “Do not trouble an already troubled young mind.” The General spoke to Hordak. Then turned to the boy. “Leave us.” The young clone did so as he feared the consequences. CLE remained within earshot as the hall they were in carried echoes well.

“So... What brings you to a place such as this?”

Hordak was angry, beyond angry, rageful! “The missing souls you have kidnapped! That is what brings me to you! The innocent clones you assaulted and captured! Twelve reported missing, seven of them defects! I have been tasked with returning them safely to their homes.”

Haig took a moment to look at Hordak, studying his eyes. Haig transferred to his psychic voice, “LTL484,464. Have you dragged any defect scum in here recently?”

“No, sir!” Another clone answered. Only then did he realise he was surrounded. Five or so, not many, but plenty deadly for him.

“No, sir!” Haig yelled back psychically in Hordak’s skull, “Do you see any missing clones here? You have come here for no reason. Was your curiosity worth your life, defect?”

“As if I could believe you.”

“I do not lie.”

“...”

“I have no time for petty pickings. I have grander plans. You shall see.” Hordak growled. “But I suppose I should not be angry at this course of events. It was destiny and the hand of fate which brought you here, to me. You See My Brother! It is as I have told you, our glorious Big Brother is watching over us! His all-seeing, all-powerful will and spirit have brought the pretender to us! He walked right into our hands. Blessed be He!”

“Save your monologues, Haig. I have heard it all before because I blindly sang his praises all my life too. He is nothing! He is dead.”

Hordak could see seething rage in Haig’s eyes and body, he was going to combust. “How fitting is it, that the site at which we are to slay the pretender is under the holy place of a pretender. The imposturous light of the angel pretender has been extinguished. And now you will follow her.”

Clones like Haig had a problem with figures of authority or religion on different worlds. If a race did not worship Horde Prime as their one true lord, then they were heretics. And they were to be punished, severally. Haig pulled out a razor blade.

“This church is now abandoned, unkept, it fell into ruin. After the angelic Queen died her followers, the people of this world, scattered like rats, and abandoned her churches such as this. It is so disheartening how quickly people lose faith. How quickly they forget! But... But there are always those who remain strong and stand their ground against adversity. Those who never forget who we belong to. And those shall be reward!”

The hall cheered. As Haig moved closer Hordak kicked him in the chest. He stumbled back slightly.

“I said save it!”

“Enough of this traitor, this heretic, this pretender! When you crashed upon this earth you took the title of The Horde and created your own empire! You dared to call yourself ‘Lord’! This world and it’s false idols. It makes me sick. ...And then... you murdered Him...”

“MURDERER! MURDERER! MURDERER!”

Suddenly so many voices were inside his head screaming and yelling at him. It was too much, an overload of senses, it was painful.

“I did not murder him! It was She-Ra who finished Him off!... And good riddance! And I have envied her every day since.”

“Torture and Death will befall both you and her, and the rest of this world! All shall pay!”

Hordak had enough. He gritted his sharp red teeth and pushed forth. He yelled and roared! The defect pushed against his chains. Haig snickered at the defect’s attempt. “Oh please, you weak frail he-” CRACK. “Wha-” SNAP. The chains broke and Hordak’s fist landed on Haig’s jaw.

And so, the brawl began.

“You morons forgot to remove his armour?!”

Hordak was more of a boxer than anything. He didn’t know any fighting techniques, all he knew was that if he hit something hard enough, it stopped. And so he did. He aimed for the chest; however, the force of his fists didn’t seem to do much. It barely fazed the reg. However, with a single blow from Haig toppled Hordak pushing him down onto the ground.

“Please, you cannot possibly hope to defeat us.”

Unbeknownst to Haig Hordak had fallen next to a spare brick, perhaps OneLight was in middle of building up their hide out. But no worries, Haig became closely acquainted with the red brick as it crashed into and annihilating his cheek. A number of small cracks snapped into being across the left side of his golden face. Now he was recognisable, and monetizable (action figures coming soon).

Once their leader had stumbled back in pain, that was the queue for the rest of the cultists to approach. Hordak’s eyes frantically searched the ground for another survival tools. He acquired a chain. One which seconds ago bound him. He attempted to use it as a whip, he got a good few lashes on his opponents, but the chain was caught, by CLE. He wrapped it around his forearm and yanked the defect across the room.

That indirectly helped him, he needed to keep that distance, however, the advantage did not last as a clone charged at him, the tackle rammed him through the wall. The two grappled on the floor, kicking and clawing at each other. It cost the clone his eye, and Hordak his tooth. Hordak was placed into a hold, crushing his armour and him. It took two consecutive headbutts to free himself. Dizzy, he heard something crack, but couldn’t feel much. Hordak took a wide swing at the reg, and miraculously it connected. Before he could even consider running, he fell to the floor as another clone yanked him by the cape. The reg stomped onto Hordak’s throat, “Die! Die! Die!”

Hordak managed to grab hold of the cultist’s foot, twisted it, which disrupted their balance, and forced to fall. Hordak pushed himself against the ground to stand up, but was interrupted by a kick to the face sending him sliding down across the room. That one definitely loosened some teeth. He definitely tasted blood. He noticed it was CLE. The reg placed his hands around Hordak’s throat, and his grip tightened. Clones didn’t require oxygen, however, they did need their heads on their necks. “p- please, child... you ha- have a choice t- to change... yo... u can be... good...” Hordak’s voice faded slowly.

He had his hands clenched around CLE’s wrists, trying with all his might to pull him off himself. But it was to no avail. Regular clones were beings created for singular purpose, war. Clones were killing machines: enhanced strength, speed, durability, telepathy, and undying loyalty – or the dying kind. And as he almost accepted his end, as he began to fade away as blackness surrounded him, his mind drifted off – to Entrapta.

The picture of her warm smiling face bathed in starlight was the last thing he saw in his mind. His eyes welled up with tears. He felt so much: regret, sadness, yet joy and satisfaction. He met the most beautiful, most intelligent being in the universe, and out of everyone in the wide ever-expanding cosmos... she chose him. He, still in his final moments remembered that moment, the words that made him fall in love with the scientist.

“I think your defects are gorgeous. You are gorgeous.”

And with that, his heart belonged to her... And as he laid there on the cold floor, he realised his death was taking a long time. CLE had stopped. He loomed over Hordak, paralysed with fear.

“You have never killed anyone before...” Hordak said looking into his opponent’s eyes. “Th- That is good. That-”

His thoughts trailed off, as did his words. The world was fuzzy. The sound was muted. He looked up to see what had to be Haig grabbing the younger clone by the cloth and began shouting at him. Then as he laid there, watching CLE argue with Haig, he heard a distant: BOOM. The sound brough a small smile to his face. And he suddenly remembered another advantage of clones: the strength they held in numbers.

The Defects had arrived.

V’s voice echoed through the hall, “You done did it now! You did something unforgivable!... You’ve made me miss my soaps! Also, you took our robro, I guess, I don’t know he’s kind of a lost cause.”

Lee demanded in everyone’s minds, “Unhand him One-filth!”

Haig responded in a similar tone, “Kill Them All!”

[Fighting Intensifies]

Hordak, barely conscious, kicked CLE off himself, giving him a couple of seconds for Drag to run in at his super speed and carry him back to the team.

“Alright, great, we got ‘im let’s book!” V was eager to leave and get back in time for a rerun of Sapphire Lakes.

“No. We cannot let them continue on with their murderous crusade. We must stop them, here and now.” Hordak commanded.

“Dude, you can barely walk.” Drag interjected.

“No, he is right. We stand and fight.” V supported the order.

V huffed and sighed, “You’re all insane... AHHH!!!” And immediately launched himself into battle. They followed his lead.

One of the regs met Moe’s fist headfirst, which since Moe was suited in an armour twice his size and width, it didn’t end well. He was pounded into the concrete floor, which erupted as if a meteor crashed into the earth.

Another met with V, who managed to impale the cultist with his feather-like blades, which he could detach and throw from his wings. V was slim, thin, skeleton-like, sickly-looking. Most sickly-looking of all of them, probably because he was the oldest. But even in his hundreds he was quick, almost impossibly so. There was no other way to put it, he was pretty much dancing around his opponent. Grinning his fangs like a psychopath, while taunting his enemy. Cackling.

Drag stayed back and took a breath, he cracked his fingers and neck. He began his regular routine of bending his knees and stretching his legs. Drag’s armour gave him the superhuman ability of superspeed, his greatest strength - although he argued it was his charisma. However, before each run he had to prepare, speeding at hypersonic speeds was complicated and dangerous, years of practice taught him the secret was prep. He lowered himself into a running position. He pushed off and rocketed forward. There was no stopping now. Once he set off he was slipping and sliding across the floor like on an ice-rink. His bladed legs when attempting to stop tore up the ground he stood on at those impossible speeds. On his path he managed to punch three clones, tackling one and driving him into the floor, creating a trench behind them.

“Who are these freaks?” One clone asked another, he had no answer for him.

“Moe, my most favourite brother in all of the universe.”

“That’s not proper grammar.”

“You got some more of those wonderful missiles o’ yours in that thing?!” V asked in the midst of battle seconds before a fist connected with his face.

Moe was in the middle of slapping a cultist away with his massive hand, “I used up all my missiles on our flashy entrance! Ah-Ugh, get off!” He shook off a couple of attackers as they attempted to jump him, “I’m a sniper not a mortar! Agh, I said off!”

“Focus on the fight, please.” Lee requested. He ducked as Haig swiped a razor blade at his head. Lee bobbed and weaved. Unleashed his two electro whips from his palms in a fury of blows, only one connected, cutting Haig’s forearm. Haig returned the favour with a cut to the thigh. Both of them bleeding, one green the other red.

“Monsters like you don’t deserve the gift of life!”

“My thoughts summed up about you exactly!” Lee countered. “How fitting that out of all the billions of clones in the universe who deserved salvation and a chance at a new proper life, you are the one that survived the Fall of Prime!”

“Wicked, demonic creatures like you and your filthy brethren deserve to perish! True believers endure! Sustained through our Lord’s will alone.”

“’Wicked’?! You dare call us monsters while you and your master slaughtered us like cattle, sending us to our deaths by the millions and mutilating us for standing up for ourselves!”

Haig’s expression changed once he noticed something, and once he did a devious grin graced his face, “...Ah yes. I remember you, defect. LCH117,889. Hehehe, such a privilege to meet Horde Prime’s personal play toy, heheHaHaHAHAAHA!”

The laughter reverberated throughout Lee’s head, and soon he barely even saw Haig anymore, he was besieged with flashes of the past, memories he tried so desperately to forget and to lock away in the farthest reaches of his mind. He barely saw Haig anymore, it was just Prime, His smile, the rope, the stage, the audience, the laughter, it all came flooding back. It all sparked a flame of rage. It burned bright in his red eyes. He roared in their minds. And launched at Haig, clawing at his throat.

“I’m Going To Kill You!”

“You will try.”

“You sure you’re alright, robro?” Drag dratted back and forth to his injured brother, checking up on Hordak.

Hordak grunted, “I’ll be fine. We-”

“Aghrr!” Suddenly CLE leaped at the defect, “Stalling me until your cavalry arrived, you used me, clever.”

Hordak blocked each stroke the reg dealt, all while trying his hardest to stand up on his two feet, “I did not use you! All I proclaimed before is true.”

Just then when CLE went all off on the offensive, he pushed Hordak up against the pillar he was chained to. Hordak took one look behind him, and ran at the pillar, placed one foot against it and used it to launch himself up and at CLE. The punch landed with such force it made the reg twirl backward. The combo was topped off by Drag who tackled CLE shoulder-first. And gave his brother a thumbs up.

Across the battlefield the fight wasn’t going too well. Lee’s furious barrage of strikes had barely touched Haig, and Lee grew tired and slow. Before Lee knew what was happening Haig got up close, catch one of Lee’s whips and leapt over him. Haig managed to wrap Lee’s own whip around his own neck. And before Lee could struggle, he left a shape pain in his back, and then in the front. He looked down to see a knife protruding out and through his stomach.

“N- No.”

“Thank you for this, it was mildly entertaining but now, the mission resumes.”

He pulled the blade out. Lee fell to his knees. Haig raised the blade, preparing to plunge it into Lee’s skull.

“NO!” Hordak and V both exclaimed a harrowing scream.

Hordak charged at Haig, tackling him, and stopping the stroke. Drag raced in and collected Lee and ran off. Moe swatted Haig off to the side, sending him into a wall.

“That’s it! We’re getting out of here!” V shrieked. The defect spread his wings and took flight. He slammed his wings into the ceiling causing a wind cyclone which teared apart the ceiling and collapsed the hall in on itself.

Drag did most of the heavy lifting, literally. The speedster carried Hordak, Lee, and V outside. And Moe thanks to his exo-armour managed to make it out fine, while covering Drag like a titanium umbrella. Hordak and V helped pull Moe up from the well of rubble by his large hands.

They all sat down on the floor, Drag laid down, and took a moment to catch their breath.

Hordak took a look at Lee, he was bleeding, his mind was quiet, he heard no word from his brother’s often overworked mind. They needed to get him to a medic. And knew just the one, “Entrapta.” That was Hordak’s last word before he too collapsed and fainted.

“Ro!” He heard his brothers exclaim before the dark enveloped him.

---

The Roots was quiet as it always was, such was the nature of graveyards. Occasionally you could hear the sobbing of a fellow clone, or in some rare instances, that of a native Etherian; a lover or a friend, perhaps. The gravestones were marked ‘Unnamed’ as many of the clones on the planet had died before finding a name for themselves. They died without an identity. It was a sad nature, that of a clone.

In that hour the graveyard was yet again quiet, which made the drunken sobbing more noticeable. Poor River, crying over his friend’s death. A smashed bottle by lay at his feet and the smell of alcohol followed him.

The words barely made it out of his throat through all the weeping, “I- It’s all my fault. I made him stay- s- stay at the bar late... I didn’t go with him... I could’ve saved him. We could’ve done i- i- it together, we always did... and now he’s gone.” That last part came out as a whimper. River tried his best to wipe away the tears. “You know... I heard the rumours... about your band of butcherers roving around... I don’t deny it’s my fault, I don’t... but you, it’s always been you! All our lives are ruined, because of you. You tortured us and brainwashed us, sent us out to our deaths! And where did that get you, huh? Almighty God! Six feet under! Ultimately, you’re a nobody!” He spat on the grave. River’s grip tightened around the mallet at his side, “You know, I was going to do this with or without Quill. Because it was always you. Rest in endless pain and torment.”

And so the mallet fell onto he the stone grave. And it crumbled underneath its might.

End of Chapter Four

#The Defects #hordak #horde clones #horde clone ocs

4 notes · View notes