The Break Of Dawn (Experimental Writing Only)

A kind of swap experiment, my half to be precise. Check the original by NetloidCF on Wattpad, Nightwatch.

(Just as a bit of a A/N, if you don't mind. Technically, this is not my work. Not in any way. This is a way to stretch my mind, seeing where I would go, using the already available premises of one of my friend's stories. If you're interesting, the Original story is Nightwatch by NetloidCF, and I suggest checking it out on the Project Genesis account within Wattpad. That being said, there are some ground rules here: 1-This is considered a fan story only. No squabbling about who wrote first, I was the second, no other questions 2- No comparisons will be tolerated. I will personally remove any and all comments that commit this act, no matter what else they contain. Why? 1- legal rights are something I go a little ham over when it comes to writing, simply because its something I enjoy, and I've had sites rip me off. Not fun memories. Neither do I want to be accused of doing said thing. 2- This is a fan story, yes, but technically its a different story as well. It will be BASED on the same foundation, simply being built up in a different fashion. Think of it like two skyscrapers sitting next to each other. One has white lights, the other blue, both with different furniture and constructed by two different companies, but technically both are owned by the same person. I bet you're tired of my babbling now, so I'll get on with it. If you've made it this far, you get points, though, so feel good about that if you can.)

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    The night seemed destined to be nothing but rain, the constant downpour pelting the concrete sidewalks and street lamps ceaselessly as two sprinted to the only safety in sight, an awning on the side of a tall glass building marked clearly by a neon sign "L.O.F.E." They both moved quickly to the door and rushed inside, the nightguard on duty looking up from his day old newspaper, having read the comics four times already, seeing the hooded pair, both soaked through, listening as they chittered to themselves.

    "Hell of a time for it to rain. Sorry about that, Monica."

    "Oh, its alright. Your dad said we could have the ground tour, so its worth it in my mind. He always has towels in the lab anyway, remember?"

    "So he SAYS, but do you want to know where they've been and still rub them all over you?"

    "Yeah... maybe not. Ok, you're right, this sucks." Both of them giggled as they walked to the reception desk, pulling their dark colored hoodies down, the first revealing stark white hair and purple eyes, the hair just long enough to start encroaching on the angular face below, clearly male. The second, slightly shorter girl disentangled her long brown pigtails from the back of her hoodie, stopping short of squeezing the water out in the process. She smiled at the guard, freckled cheeks bending upward to hide her blue eyes.

    "I.D., maybe, kids? I'd prefer not to get fired here." The guard said lazily.

    "Yeah, here ya go." The white haired one held up a slab of plastic with his face and credentials on it, showing it to the guard. "Mathew Marshalls, same as every other time. Monica needs a guest pass though, she's a noob here."

    "Hey! I'm no noob!"

    "Just... calm down kids, alright. I'll get her punched in, Mathew, and send her in, you go ahead. Your dad told me you were coming. He's been cooking in there again, so put on a gas mask, for god sake."

    "Thanks for the heads up, captain." Mathew threw a fake salute to the guard. "I'll see you in there, Monica!" He headed off behind the desk, shoes squeaking on the clean tile thanks to the rain as the guard started on the pass for Monica, trying to hurry along so he could get back to his extremely boring paper, somehow much more pleasant now thanks to the respective volume level involved.

***

    Mathew moved quickly down the hallways and corridors, looking for a door with the lights on, specifically one with a sign that read "A7 - Marshalls" next to it in blocky text. He slid to a stop, finding his target, and stuck his head inside, looking for his father in the albeit dim lighting. "Dad? You here, or you in the can?" No response for the moment. "Can it is then, I guess." Mathew moved further inside, noting the bare tables at the front of the lab, hiding the true experiments in the rear, signified by the lightning, he assumed. Moving forward, he finally heard the squeaking footsteps of his compatriot coming up to the door and coming in to join him. "That was fast. Sprint all the way here?"

    "Nope. I just followed the sound you made while it echoed around." Monica laughed to herself as they both moved forward, something suddenly clicking beneath their feet as soon as the started. The lights when out all at once, plunging the room into near impenetrable darkness. Even the light from the hall had gone missing as they looked around, slightly concerned.

    "Alright dad... very funny and all, but we're technically supposed to be guests and all. I'll have to deduct points from your Yelp review at this point."

    "What he said!"

    "Very original, Monica, I give it five stars, would ignore again."

    They both fell silent, hearing glassware shift to their right, turning to it, before a comically terribly roar came from their left, catching both off guard simultaneously, Monica falling to the floor in the puddle that had collected from her clothing shedding moisture as they stood, while Mathew managed to catch the assailant square in the jaw with a might right, even as he screamed in terror. The white sheet clad individual fell to the floor with a thump, groaning in pain and somehow laughing at the same time. A gruff voice followed steadily as the one hidden beneath the fabric availed himself of it. "That's a nasty right hook... geez, Mathew. Augh."

    "That's what you get for scaring us. Fair enough, dad?" Mathew held out his hand to his father, helping him up after the sheet had been dislodged.

    "Alright, I guess I can't argue with that... too much. That still hurt though."

    "Not as much as my pride got bruised from screaming like a pansy. Take the truce while you have the option, old man."

    "okay, okay, I get it." The scruffy looking man laughed to himself as he scratched his unkempt hair slightly, beard showing and eyebrows threatening to stretch his forehead low enough to eclipse his discerning, emerald eyes. "Care for the tour then? That's what I promised... Monica, you okay? Lemme help you up." He reached to Monica, who accepted quickly, grasping his hand tightly before a loud buzzing could be heard, causing the man to dance uncontrollably in place as he held her hand, almost singing as electricity coursed through his hand. Once the scraggly haired man nearly collapsed on the floor, Monica rose with a wicked smile, holding her hand open to Mathew, showing off two wire contacts, which she removed before high-fiving Mathew.

    "I came prepared this time, Professor." Monica giggled while standing up, Mathew's father rising as well, speaking at a higher tone than before as he shook his hand to relieve the residual tingle.

    "I never catch a... break. You two are both blunt and sharp at the same time."

    "Thanks, Professor."

    "Your welcome. Now, to what we were doing... Welcome... To my sanctuary!" Mathew's father struck a heroic pose, referencing the room around them, machines of all kinds lining the walls and peeking from the cabinets, the empty tables from around the doors merely decoys to dissuade onlookers. "Now where shall we begin? Perhaps my newest creation?"

    "You mean newest possible breakthrough that will most likely turn out to be a great way to make massive amounts of popcorn from an insane distance?"

    "Hey, that only happened ONCE! Harsh, son, that hurts."

    "Again, pride. Don't break the truce."

    "I... alright then. Let's just get to this before I get humiliated FURTHER."

    Monica simply giggled to herself as they proceeded down the length of the room.

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        "Alright, so, we have all kinds of gewgaws in here, but don't worry, with the way L.O.F.E. works, you won't get arrested just because you're in here. I already had you both sign the paperwork, so you're technically lab assistants." The doctor smile, his slightly unkempt hair jiggling as he did. "Although I have a feeling you won't want to save the best for last, solet's start at the very end!" He broke into a run, heading down the length of the room, leaving behind Monica and Mathew for just a moment before they realized what was happening.

        "Welcome... to the TWENTY FIFTH CENTURY!!!" The doctor struck a pose that resembled something like awkward yoga, referencing a large white sheet at the at the very back of the room.

       He was greeted by stunned silence, left to stand in an awkward pose for a time.

        "It's only the twenty third century, Mister Marshalls." Monica spoke up, hardly able to contain her laughter as the doctor swayed in place., pigtails swaying in the process, Mathew next to her, simply holding an awkward smile.

        "Wow, you two really are dream killers, yknow that?" The doctor moved to the sheet and yanked it down, revealing a long tube made of metal and glass, probe like instruments reaching toward the conical inside slopes of the tube, small blue glass or crystal at the end of each.

        "Oh wow,an examination table from the Roswell Incident."

        "It's probably more like the universe's porta-jon. Looks like one of those fancy toilets that sprays water on you, don't you think, Monica?"

        "Yeah, you're right." They both broke out into laughter again, even the doctor joining in, having expected plenty of ribbing from the start.

        "I'm afraid you're both wrong. This.... is an antimatter reactor! It takes matter, catalyzes it into energy, and roots that energy back into society. You can even use it for recycling!"

       "Yeahp. Totally a porta-jon, Mathew, you were right."

       "Okay, okay, Monica. Nonetheless this is what I've been working on for the last few months, and you two will be the first to see it in operation... other than me of course."

        "CAN I FLIP THE SWITCH!?" Mathew assumed a pose along the lines of an expectant cat, large eyes shining in the low light near the back of the room.

        "Uh, sure. Here." Doctor Marhsalls handed Mathew a small rectangle of plastic and metal with a red button on the front, a ring of text around the plastic bulge that moved around it, simply stating 'DO NOT PRESS' in bold, yellow text.

        "Alright, here we go." Mathew stood in front of the tube, pointing toward the center with the remote he had been given, assuming an authoritative stance, donning his best mad scientist smile. "This.... is tomorrow... TODAY!" He pressed the button with his thumb, a light in the end becoming bright for a moment, matching lights on the outside border of the cone becoming alive with electricity. "Now, THAT. is how you do a dramatic unveiling, pops."

        They all stood there for several moments, waiting for something, ANYTHING to happen.

        "Helluva show, doc, Mathew, shoulda bought popcorn so it could be complete."

        "Just hang on a second Monica, it needs to warm up. Think of it like an elderly couple on their anniver..."

        "Ok, NOPE. Not thinking of that. NEVER. Nopenopenopenopenopenope." Monica cringed, her face scrunching up like a wrung out sponge.

        Mathew laughed under his breath, tendrils of light so dark they shined finally arcing from the spires, joining in the center to become a small sphere that grew as more connected to it, becoming a swirling vortex of purple and blue so dark it was nearly black.

        "Okay, now that's cool, pops."

        "Thought you'd think so." The doctor smiled as the two looked upon the cortex in awe, the light reflecting in their wide eyes.

        "Man, it's so alluring, almost like a siren son...."

        Mathew was cut short as a fork of purple energy lanced out toward him, piercing his chest and running him through, disintegrating the floor and lab equipment behind him, the energy surging along his skin, before it suddenly stopped, a flash throwing him backwards into a vacant laboratory bench, the meager metal buckling under his weight.

        Mathew's vision faded slowly, the final picture echoing in his mind that of Monica staggering backwards as his father shielded her from another surge, piercing him in many places, turning his limbs to ash as he fell, Monica meeting the floor as well not long after him.

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        "Pops...." Mathew mumbled, coming around from the incident, peeling himself off of the seemingly melted metal bench, barely able to keep his vision from swimming, each pulse of an intense pain in his neck causing it to swirl faster. After a few moments, he stumbled upon his father, gasping for air on the floor, holding a small remote in his teeth as if his life depended on it, blood oozing onto the floor from craters in his flesh.

        "Mathew..." Professor Marshalls gasped before air, nearly forgetting to spit out the remote, speaking in a raspy, strained voice. "... that was a power surge. Not impossible, but should be nearly... so." He grunted in pain as everything began to register slowly. "The junction is in the storage closet, son. Shut it down fast, and clear out anything you find."

        "So I'm the cops and this is a drug bust. Got it." Mathew shook his head, immediately regretting his actions as the pain intensified, causing him to stumble, nearly falling onto an unconscious Monica. He made it slowly to the fortified glass door marked "Storage - No Admittance" in yellow and red text. When he couldn't open it with the handle, he opted for punching the keycode number pad next to it, sparks flying free before the door opened with some protest. "Smug piece of crap." He stepped into the room slowly, spotting someone standing near the back, next to a set of levers and lights, several wires crossed between their respective receptacles, electricity arcing between them, making the outline of a person even more apparent against the white painted concrete, their black clothing doing nothing to air them. "Hey. I know kung-jitsu you..."Mathew staggered for a moment, his balance fading again, the dark figure taking the opportunity to charge forward, a large sword in their hands, and ran Mathew through, stepping back as he reeled, expecting pain from the piercing blade. Instead of pain he merely... felt its presence, it was there. Mathew knew it, and that's all his brain wanted to tell him, so he grabbed the handle, and pulled. Tendrils of purple light spun outward from the blade of the sword as Mathew tugged, his attacker moving several steps backward in surprise as he popped it free from his gut, no signs of an injury present in the least. "So this is what acid is like. Nice." Mathew swung the blade at his attacker, the sword lighting immediately with snakes of purple energy, cutting through the black clothed person like they were made of over softened butter, and continuing into the concrete below until he finally let go, the blade stopping as well. The black clothed figure stepped back several more times, a gaping gash having separated their left arm from their torso, and nearly rendered any connection from their top and bottom moot. Sparks issued forth instead of blood as Mathew expected, a loud clunk sounding as the figure dropped to the ground, red lights flashing faintly in their face, knees meeting the concrete as their head struck the floor itself, falling backward, unable to stay aloft due to the damage.

        "Alright..... okay.... back to dad. Before I barf." Mathew moved slowly back to the main area, attempting to think as little as possible, each thought seeming like an enemy of his mind as the blood needed only caused more pain. He kneeled next to his father, lifting him slightly to tell him the good news. "Their gone pops. Dead. I'm calling a hospital now, alright?"

        "It's... heh... a little too late for that, son." Professor Marshalls coughed violently, black soot issuing forth as he did so. "Y'see, one touch from that stuff... is fatal. Sorry, son. I'm as dead as a octogenarian's libido here."

       Mathew grimaced, blocking that thought from his mind. "Then how am I still here. There must be a way to save you, right?"

       "I always said you were... special... Son..." A sudden crackling noise accompanied the professor's weight becoming much less in Mathew's arms, his legs now separate from his body, ashen dust laying on the floor in its wake, layers of the same falling in succession over time to join its comrades on the floor, even the traces of his blood turning black and becoming nothing but ash. "Like a spent cigar, I say goodnight." The grey-black color spread to the professor's neck, his head rolling to the floor as Mathew stared blankly in awe and shock, his father's head rolling slowly toward the benches several feet away before collapsing in a small explosion of soot. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but soon only knew darkness.

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         Hey Matt

        A voice echoed in Mathew's mind, decluttering the thoughts that rang against the inside of his skull every time he gave them the slightest regard, waking the screaming headache he had had since....

        "Aw, crap... Monica..." Mathew's vision cleared slowly as he remembered what had transpired. He saw the machine his father had made striking him in the chest. He remembered waking on top of a couch made of metal, the room so cold he felt as if arctic fingers had wrapped around his ribcage to stop his breathing. He remembered the odd person in the room labeled 'storage... and pulling a sword from his torso after he had been run through by it. And finally, he saw his father's gracefully aged face roll free of his body, in his sons arms before bursting into so much powder. All of these realizations crashed down upon him at once, threatening to claim his soul and deposit it into darkness once more.

        "MATHEW! Snap out of it!"

        Monica's voice split through the haze once more, bringing his vision into focus finally. He raised his head slowly, gaze coming up toward Maonica's face, worry creasing her brow deeply as her hand grasped his shoulder. "He's... gone, Monica." Mathew looked down again do the dust that covered the floor, some of which Monica had gotten onto her jeans. "And he's all over your clothes."

        "Wait.... what?" Monica did a very speedy double take, looking at the ground, and Mathew's sincere and distraught face. She came to a conclusion not long after, stumbling backward into one of the laboratories fixtures, causing the thin metal to sing from the impact. "Crap, I got dead person all over me." Monica stopped immediately. "Oh, sorry Mathew. I wasn't thinking."

        "That's alright. Nothing to be done unless you have a time machine, right?" Mathew Pushed his feeling aside for a moment, noticing the all too familiar feeling of rage building under the surface of the riotous sea that was his emotions. "For now, we need to see exactly what happened. Dad told me to look in storage before he... y'know...." He was silent for a moment. "There was some kind of robot person messing with the power, and I think that caused this mess. Care to spit on the corpse with me?" Mathew stood, offering a hand to Monica, who accepted, rising and following to the still open doorway, the blade Mathew had plunged into the concrete floor still resting in place, its latest victim resting as well, its legs still standing as its upper torso sat splayed out.

        "S**t, that must've been sharp." Monica commented, moving toward the two objects, feeling the sword lightly, expecting it to remover her fingers with the slightest contact. However, it felt... oddly dull as she touched it, eventually yanking it out of the floor as Mathew moved around, careful not to disturb the shelves of supplies and parts, approaching the robotic person he had unceremoniously sliced into two during his stupor. "So, what is this thing? It's got two words on the hilt, 'Moeru kage no ha/燃える影の刃' and 'Garibaldi-3'. What the hell does that mean?"

        Mathew reached for the straight bladed weapon, Monica releasing it swiftly as light surged outward from it, purple flames dancing along the edges, all the way down to the flat, squared guard. "It's not all that bad a name. 'The Blade of Burning Shadows', I think. It's been a long time since that particular elective. Garibaldi though.... Considering what this is, my guess would be that genius guy my dad used to be friends with. The one on the news lately, went missing and AntiSync Industries is wetting themselves over it." Mathew turned away from Monica and began to swing the sword slowly in loops, feeling its weight. He noticed a small green jewel in the bottom of the hilt begin to wax and wane in its intensity, the light emitting from it growing brighter as he pointed the tip toward the rear of the storage room. "Oh freaking hell. It's Skyward Sword all over again. Worthless damn dousing system has come back to haunt real life."

        "Not to sound like a broken record, but... what?" Monica moved closer, her eyes tracking the green light as Mathew pointed to it. "Oh. Well, follow it? And hope we don't die?"

        "Not like that would matter now anyway. The police haven't showed up, so most likely no one knows this happened." Mathew sighed, putting the pieces together in his mind to provide a distraction. "Let's do this." Mathew moved through the winding rows of supplies, finally reaching the very end of the room, where larger supplies were stowed, like spare gas tanks, high amperage batteries, and sizeable copper coils, as well as many unknown substances and components neither could identify. They inched forward, the light guiding them to a set of empty boxes as they neared a solid wall, which they toppled in an attempt to solve this conundrum. "Okay, bare concrete wall. Any ideas, Monica?"

        "Yeah, I think so. There's a seam here, Mathew. Not as solid as you think." Monica moved forward and touched the wall gingerly, tracing the crack she found slowly, starting at the bottom and moving upwards. "There's no dust here, Matt. It's been moved, and recently."

        "Alright, lemme see." Mathew moved toward the wall as well, the light on the sword he held still glowing spectacularly, even if the flames had faded from sight. "Ok, let's see..." Mathew ran his hand around the wall, stumbling back when a panel popped free, spinning around with a slight grinding sound, the outline of a hand clearly marked on the darkened grid by red lines, usurping the paths of their green brethren. "Well, that's pretty conclusive." Mathew placed his hand on the pad, a light flashing for a moment, fading back into nothingness as a spinning light also joined the pad, protruding from the wall and spinning, emitting a meagre yellow light in a rotating motion. The wall however, did not change.

        "Let me try, Matthew." Monica moved forward as Mathew removed his hand, the red outline moving to fit her more slender fingers. However, when the light moved to read her palm, it flashed red and withdrew, unsatisfied.

        "Not qualified, eh Monica?" Mathew taunted lightly.

        "Oh shut up. You probably just sweet talked your way into its life. I, however, will go the honest route." One more attempt rendered the same result, infuriating Monica slightly. She stamped her foot forcefully, dislodging a sheet of metal to her side, which in turn tipped one of the oxygen bottles next to it over, to land squarely on Monica's foot, the two foot tall gas canister having enough weight to nearly fracture her foot in several places as it hit home. "AAAAAH, FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAAAAAA!" Was all that came from Monica, hiding a small sound of electrical discharge, the hand scanner registering green now, a yellow light also opening on the other side of the supposed door. Monica stepped back, kneeling to comfort her foot, Mathew comforting her as well as she inhaled through clenched teeth. "Damn canister gets scrapped. No exceptions." Monica muttered, standing gingerly as the floor began to shake slightly, the seam she had found opening to reveal an all consuming darkness behind, ceiling panel lights awakening one by one to fill the void, eventually revealing a single pedestal, a dark colored.... backpack sitting upon the shining metal, accompanied by a notebook and what appeared to be both a tape recorder and a radio. Mathew rushed in a palmed the radio, checking the batteries and controls.

        "Short wave. Nice."

        Monica moved to pick up the notebook, immediately being assaulted by a spiral pattern of unknown symbols that induced an instant migraine. She quickly put it down and attempted the tape recorder. "A little outdated, isn't this? I mean, we still use MP3, but this is just ancient. I'm talking museum worthy technology." She flipped it over to look at the tag. "Nope. Nevermind. 'copyrighted - Garibaldi tech - 2206-2300'. I need to keep my mouth shut." Monica moved to place the recorder back onto the pedestal, accidentally pressing the most prominent button on the brick of white and black plastic, 'Play'.

        The following information is only to be viewed by one Professor Marshalls and his next of kin, should they be of age and intent to listen, perceive, and accept what is said here.

       A gruff voice played from the recorder, stained by years of speaking harsh languages, very clearly intent on speaking, and being understood. Mathew and Monica alike became silent.

        To you, Marshal, I hope the day never comes that you boy realizes what he has, and that he will never hear this, let alone have the need for what I have create him at your request. If this is Mathew that is listening, I can only assume that either you are here along with your father, or have stumbled across the containment chamber designed to wait for you... or perhaps something more grave. Over the last century both the company you have been employed by, and mine as well, have gone through many expansions, becoming disjointed, and demanding more progress in technology. The leader of AntiSync I have confirmed to by assembling a force of invaders, troops, and weapons, mainly of designs not far from what I and my colleagues have produced, or from the result of our research thus far. I suspect the same of L.O.F.E., but I cannot yet ascertain the truth behind that. It seems much more benign thus far. However, I must depart, for First is of a mind to imprison me for my knowledge. In you hands I entrust my Codex, the notebook that sits along with the device prepared for your son, for you Mathew. You will one day grow up and know just what you are, a common saying, I suppose, but it fits all too well. In the event that this was discovered under dire circumstances, I ask that you guard my Codex, and the Transponder I left in your care. The Transponder can be used to find my location if absolutely necessary, but I ask you only use it if you absolutely require my assistance, for it will most likely bring AntiSync troops to you much quicker than is amenable. In the end, all you must remember is that the end will come to all things, whether they are good or bad, as the world likes to so simply denote. Whatever made the unveiling of this secret necessary will be undone by it, most likely. I bid any all who have listened my gratitude and any good fortune they can muster. May you not be in need of it.

        The recording ended, the tape quickly rewinding and resting at the beginning. "So, is this the thing he was talking about? For me?" Mathew pointed to the blue-black shaded hunk of metal laying upon the pedestal, four ribs running the length of its mass and protruding over one end, a single rib shorter than the rest, on the very end nearest the pair. Mathew grabbed it before Monica could respond, moving it so it was in better light, showing a slot in the end of the shorter rib, about the same width and thickness of the blade he was carrying. "Well... let's see." Mathew put the tip of Moeru kage no ha into the slot, and pushed, the sword sliding in without friction, its home right where it rested.

        "That.... halfway explains where that came from then, huh? What's with the others, are they all swords?" Monica asked, peering at the thing from the side, her theory confirmed as Mathew pulled on the next rib over, unsheathing a curved katana like blade. He lifted it to his eyes, searching on the oval shaped guard for a name like on the first.

        "Piasukaosu no bur�"do/�"アスカオスのブレード" He read aloud. "The Blade of Piercing Chaos."

       Mathew moved onto the next hilt after re-sheathing the last. He drew another katana from the next rib over, a diamond shaped guard at the base of the hand grip.

        "Eien no kurushimi no bur�"do/永遠の苦�-みのブレード" Mathew returned this one to its sheath as well, clicking into place as it returned home. "The Blade of Eternal Suffering"

        Mathew moved to the final blade, another straight sword, and read the name on the curved guard, two spokes moving to point forward almost like a rapier's. "Munegaharisakeru-kō no ha/胸が張り裂�'る光の刃" The Blade of Rending Light." Mathew plunged the blade home like its brethren. "Well, I'm kinda halfway guessing here. Like I said, it's been too long since Japanese class."

        "Hey Matt, I think you missed one. Look on the plate back here, it's got another name." Monica turned the plate of dark colored, ice cold metal around on the smooth pedestal so the words were legible. "Viper's Nest - Garibaldi 4." Monica cocked her head to one side. "Not qiote as ceremonious as the others, now is it?"

        "It doesn't matter, Monica. You heard what he said, right? Time to find who did this and make them know exactly what pain is."

        "Yeah, you don't mess with family, do ya?"

        "If I have my way, I'm going all the way up to whatever crappy know it all is looking down through the clouds at us and let this happen if I can."

        "Maybe there are some walls you shouldn't break just yet."