Mother
Mother
"Is it almost done?" A female voice as a figure glided across a laboratory floor. The gloomy blue and black surroundings, hum of machinery, and scientists moving around drew attention away from the figure. The figure was impossibly tall for a human and covered in a black cloak that hid every detail of her. No breathing or hints that it was even human came from the figure.
"Almost, Mother." The head scientist approached her. A nametag on the lab coat read 'Dr. Henry Jenkins'. He had black hair, glasses that magically reflected all light so his eyes could not be seen, and was average for height and weight. Dr. Jenkins passed a clipboard to Mother, who took it in claw-like hands.
"Hmm...my baby is growing well...." She crooned, tilting her head to a large tube in the center of the room. Floating in red liquid was something no bigger than an infant. Gliding over to it, Mother pressed her hand against the glass, stroking it like a mother would to her child.
"Yes he is...but I have some questions, if you don't mind." Dr Jenkins approached the tank and stood beside Mother.
"Ask away my dear...it is the least I could do for all of your hard work..." Mother turned her unseen face to the doctor.
"With all due respect, I fail to see how he will fit in with the draconic community as well as the humans. He may look like a dragon, but they will know he is different. I mean, take a look at his appearance." He indicated to the infant.
It was a black scaled dragon in a fetal position with tubes attaching to different parts of his body. From the way it looked, the dragon was more of a humanoid than a dragon. Sure, he had the claws, tail, wings, and even the draconic muzzle...but there was no way it could walk on four legs or be anywhere near the size of the dragons. In fact, he was human sized and dragons were generally twice the size.
Mother placed a hand under her chin area. The doctor was right about him never fitting into both with open arms, or in the dragon's case, wings. Humans and dragons accepted each other after years of fighting, but there have been no reports of breeding. If he were to roam the streets, people would talk. Mother hoped that she didn't have to 'quell' another rumor.
"Also, he has been showing...ah...irregularities that we did not predict," Jenkins continued when Mother looked down at him.
"How so?" Mother demanded, her voice almost shaking the room.
"Well, when we were giving stimuli to him, he reacted to a small dose of pain...oddly. In his sleep, he raised his right arm...or claw...and it turned into a blade before turning back. Every part of his body seems to be able to morph into different shapes."
Mother was surprised at the report. Turning to face the dracinoid (she just made up the term, finding no possible way to describe him), Mother once again touched the glass. This was turning up better than she thought it would. However, the danger of this creature roaming the streets with this power was too great. She would have to raise him to control the power. After all, her name w_as_ Mother.
The original intent was to create a crossbreed to see what would happen, but now he was turning into a living weapon. Almost immediately, the thought to create more crossed her mind. After all, if she wanted this species to continue without cloning or test tubes like this, she would have to either make a female or make it so he could breed with either or. So far, the former was more likely. Before she did that, Mother would have to see how he held up in society.
Mother was one of the major powers in the world. If she had decided that others were to accept him, they damn well should. Yet, she couldn't control the emotions and actions of others. Maybe she would keep quiet about this until he was of age...
"He's looking at you, Mother," The head scientist's voice cut through her thoughts. Looking at the dracinoid, Mother saw that the hatchling's orange eyes were looking directly at her as if he recognized her. He even reached out for her, the grey talons lightly scratching the glass.
"How far along is he?" Mother asked quickly.
"Hmm...he is stable for breathing oxygen. Do you wish to take him out?"
"Yes."
Dr. Jenkins nodded and ran over to the other scientists, ordering them to drain the tank. Within seconds, the water began to recede. The hatchling went down with it, hitting bottom and crying like every other baby. When the tube vanished as well, Mother wasted no time in picking up the crying hatching in her arms. As soon as she did, his right arm turned into a blade and struck at her.
The top of the cloak fell off. Instantly, guns were pointed at the hatchling, ready to fire. Mother waved down. Looking around, Mother saw that most of the scientists were looking at her with amazement, horror, and curiosity. She chuckled to herself, remembering that not everyone was used to her without the hood.
Mother's head was an oversized brain floating in a jar, cables and wires connecting to what appeared to be a mechanical body. Two eyes connected to the brain, staring from directly in front of the purple brain. Electrical currents ran through the grooves of the organ. Mother turned down to the hatchling to see that he had stopped crying and simply looked at her.
"What to call you...?" Mother mused, walking towards the center of the room. Even though she could not feel the hatchling, her sensors detected that he was warm blooded. It was likely that he was fire. Maybe it was the human DNA as well.
"Oh, I know..." She continued, ignoring the looks of others. "I'll name you Arma..."
The hatchling simply chirped in response.
--
Twenty-Five Years Later....
Arma walked the streets of the city called New York, hidden under a large overcoat, fedora, and sunglasses. Everyone knew who he was even with the clothing, being the only dracinoid in the world. It wasn't so much as he was hiding that he just liked wearing the outfit. He had no need for the things that humans wore, such as pants, but this coat and fedora...they caught his attention. He had no idea why he liked the glasses.
Turning into a bar, he found the bartender waving at him as soon as he walked in. The bartender was a middle aged man who, for some odd reason that Arma never fully understood, liked other men. Arma never called him out on it, accepting the fact that calling him odd would be hypocritical. Besides, he was one of the few who tried to be friendly with him that wasn't online and therefore couldn't see his face.
"So how's my favorite dracinoid today?" The bartender, Mark, asked. Arma took an uneasy glance around to see that everyone was staring at him. A few shrugged before going back to their drinks.
"Tired," Arma responded. His voice sounded almost human with a small draconic growl, "I just finished a job."
"Same old?" Mark responded, filling him a glass and sliding it down to him. Arma caught it easily.
Arma was enlisted into the secret service of Mother, who was quite literally his adopted mother. At a young age, Arma was filled in for who he was. He was some test tube child, splicing DNA between humans and dragons. He fell into a state of depression after learning this, but quickly recovered. Mother had revealed to him that he was a biological weapon and his name even meant 'weapon'. Unlike the sci-fi movies or books, he was actually treated like a son and never as an object.
His usual job was to assassinate any of the assassins that would go after Mother. Since he was publically known, hiding in the shadows and coming out when in dire need was pointless. He remembered stepping up to the reporters at the age of ten and being absolutely terrified. Still, he managed a word and it went from there. While he was considered to be a monster at first, he was gradually accepted. No one was firing at him in daylight anymore...
Still, he would rather keep himself hidden online. He enjoyed having others to talk to.
"Yeah." Arma took a sip from the glass. It was delicious and just what he needed after using his powers. Even after working on it for years, his shape-shifting ability was never fully under his control. The other day, when he went to change his arm into a blade, it turned into a tangled mess of flesh, bone, and scales. It hurt like hell.
"You need to speak more, Arma," Mark leaned over the bar, ruffling his graying hair. His blue eyes, so different from Arma's orange eyes, tried to make contact.
"Maybe," Arma laughed. It was true; he was extremely shy. Being the only one of his species did that.
"I can't imagine how you are gonna react when someone you are attracted to walks by. I mean, you have the ability to be attracted to both humans and dragons. It'll be awkward as hell if you go with a human, not gonna lie." Mark left him with that, going to serve another customer.
Arma drank a bit more at what Mark had said. He really didn't want to consider getting a mate just yet. If it was human, they would die too fast for him, and dragon, they would outlive him. His live expectance was about five hundred; half of a dragon's.
After another hour in the bar, Arma departed and found that it was starting to snow. Nighttime had fallen on him when he wasn't looking and the roads seemed a lot more deserted. New York was a human city and very rarely would a dragon come. It was mostly trade business. There are cities, such as Boston, that dragons and humans live together.
Looking up, Arma spotted the building that he and Mother resided in. It was quite large and red in color, as if beckoning any assassin to it. The thought of someone assassinating Mother was enough to send him flying home...
--
After an hour of checking everything in the building, Arma was assured that no assassin had broken in. Mother was in the lab once more, so he didn't want to distract her. So now he was lying on his bed, his laptop beside him on a table. He was starting to feel the effects of the drinks, but kept himself signed onto any messaging system just in case someone talked to him.
A minute passed before he grew restless. Getting up, he stretched and stood in front of the mirror. Arma wasn't muscular like the dragons, but he had more tone than humans. As he had shed the clothing, it was revealed that his left arm was lighter in color. A scar ran across his shoulder; the faint gleam of metal shining through parts of the scar.
Arma had lost his left arm after an accident. Despite his regenerating and morphing powers, it was out of his power at the time and he was left with the choice of bleeding out or getting a false arm. Figuring that a robotic arm wouldn't do him much harm, Mother personally made it. Now he was able to use the element of fire, something he lacked, through his false arm. It was one of the best choices he made.
Standing at about seven and a half feet talk, Arma could have antagonized the humans had he wanted. His wings, hidden under the overcoat, were black with grey membranes. Spikes covered the bone. Running down his back were quills that would shoot out and re-grow within seconds. At the end of his tail, a silvery scythe grew. Thanks to the appendage, whenever he was on group missions, his codename was 'Death'.
The horns started to grow straight backwards before gently curving up. Two smaller horns followed this fashion. Two grew on the underside of his chin, reaching towards his neck. Arma had the ability to change his appearance slightly, but so far, the horns were the things he was able to change the most. Mother had told him that, if he kept practicing, he could even change scale colors and gender.
Sighing, Arma was about to practice when he picked up another scent. Looking directly into the mirror, he saw that five figures, each brandishing bloody blades, were standing behind him. At first, Arma was stunned that they had gotten in, but smiled shortly afterwards. He was starting to get bored.
"Hold up, I'll be with you all shortly." Arma casually walked over to his laptop, set his status from available to busy on the chats, and clicked 'play' on a song.
_"WHAT IS LOVE...?"_The laptop started to blare.
Without giving them a second to react (All of them were standing in shock that they were getting blown off), Arma turned his arm into a blade and charged, skewering the middle one through the chest. The human dropped like a sack of potatoes.
Others swiped at him, one managing to thinly slice his shoulder. Black-red blood spilled from the wound. Whipping his tail around, Arma decapitated another with ease. The feeling of blood on him felt good, as if he was programmed to relish it. Hearing the sound of a sword swinging, Arma dove forward and aimed the palm of his left hand at his attacker.
Flames burst from the hand, engulfing the assassin and he, too, crumbled. This was too easy for him. Most of the other assassins he was told to go after put up better fights and actually used guns. These ones just used swords and were terrible at using them. Almost as if they were...
Arma's eyes widened as realization dawned on him; these weren't assassins...they were distractions from the real ones. "Mother..." he whispered, holding out his bladed arm as it grew more. The blade, already made from his bone, started to split down the middle. His scales and flesh melded together to form a grotesque blade. The scale and flesh was a side effect and it hurt, but nothing would stop him from defending Mother.
Quickly dispatching the attackers, Arma quickly ran off to the lab. He didn't even bother turning his arm back just in case he was attacked on the way there. Instead, all he found was dead bodies that looked like they had been torn apart by giant claws. Recognizing them instantly, Arma looked up, but found no dragons hiding on the ceiling.
Shortly, Arma reached the lab and ran in, finding part of it in shambles. Half of the staff was either dead or injured. Judging from the claw marks and hole in the center of the lab, they had either fled or were hiding down there. Panning around, he saw that Mother was leaning against a wall. Not bothering to check on the others, he ran over to her.
"Mother!" he yelled, reaching her within seconds. Examining her, he saw that pieces of machinery were hanging out of her chest and leg areas. Despite that, she seemed...fine. She had gone through worse.
"Arma...behind you!" Mother warned, something loud landing behind him.
Whirling around, Arma saw a fully grown dragon staring down at him. The fangs were bared, green eyes filled with malice meeting his own, and the brown scales covered in blood. Arma felt a little intimidated when he realized that he was trying to stare down a full grown dragon. The last time he had fought one was two years ago and, while he beat him....he lost his left arm. Then again, the dragon caught him off guard.
"So you are the half-breed..." the dragon rumbled, tail lashing out behind him and destroying another piece of equipment, "You are an abomination, so you and Mother must die for your crimes!"
"I didn't ask to be made..." Arma retorted, attacking. He had to get this dragon away from Mother. Slicing his chest with the blade certainly got his attention.
Jumping into the air in attempts to distract, Arma tried to bring his sword down on his head. Unfortunately, it was a gamble, and he was swatted aside like a twig. Thankfully, the dragon was still focused on him. Raising his left arm again, he let out a fireball that homed in on the dragon. The dragon simple countered with his own fireball, causing a small explosion that threatened to knock Arma off his feet.
Having no time to react, Arma was hit with a charge and flung through a wall. Getting back up, Arma swung at the dragon, hitting it in the shoulder. Flesh and scale were torn off. Arma barely had time to dodge the fire that escaped his opponent's mouth. He knew that he couldn't keep this fight up forever; that charge broke at least a rib.
Trying to give Mother more time to escape, Arma dove for a window, spreading his wings. Looking back, he saw that the dragon was directly behind him. Arma wasn't good at air battles, but if he could guide him to the roof...
Flying up, Arma landed on the roof near a transformer. Glancing up, he swore and saw that the dragon was still flying and sending fireballs down at him. His plan wasn't going to work unless he forcibly drove him into the transformer or stabbed him in the head. Reacting to the attacks, Arma shot two fireballs, hiding behind a small wall.
From the roars, Arma had hit his target with both fireballs. The heavy thud of landing could be heard. Feeling the clawsteps get closer, he left the wall just as it was destroyed. Using the debris as cover, Arma ran over and plunged his weapon into the chest of the dragon. However, he missed the heart, so the beast was still able to take off with him still attached.
Feeling the weakness of the dragon, Arma latched onto the shoulder, pulled out the sword, and drove it into the heart. With one small roar, they started to fall. Seeing that there was no time to fly away, Arma adjusted the dragon so that he would crash into the building before him. With a sickening crunch, they landed.
Examining himself, Arma saw that he had been cut badly on his chest. If he didn't get medical assistance, he may die. Dislodging his arm, he painfully turned it back, screaming the entire time. Afterwards, he looked up at the sky just as it started to rain.
"I did it, Mother..." he whispered.
"Indeed you have."
A loud bang echoed from behind him as pain ripped through his chest. Blood poured freely from a new hole in his chest. Weakly, he turned to see Mother standing there with a large gun pointed at him. The barrel smoked, confirming that it was her who shot him.
The feeling of betrayal welled up inside of Arma. How could his own mother...who made and protected him...shoot him? Tears started to flow down his face, mingling in with the rain and blood. Unable to stand anymore, he collapsed next to his foe. Mother started to walk towards him. The use of his mouth failed him, so he asked with his eyes.
Why did you shoot me, Mother?_His eyes asked, _I was trying to protect you...I was trying to be a good son...
"My dear Arma...you must understand," Mother knelt down in front of him, stroking his face like she did when he was younger, "You are not well. You are in pain every time you use your abilities. I am sparing you from suffering. I love you as a son and will miss you. Do not worry...I will bring you back when we perfect your species..."
Arma wanted to let her know that he could manage the pain, but he was so tired. The hole in his chest left him too weak to even give her a sign. Slowly, he felt his eyes shut without telling them to. The pain started to fade away. Before his vision faded, he could have sworn that the clouds were crying with him. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
How would he tell all of his friends that he just...died? Would there be an announcement of his death? Arma only wished that he had more time to tell everyone goodbye. Casting one last look at Mother, he felt...fury rise within him. Fury that she would murder him to 'save him'...
--
Three Weeks Later...
Mother watched as the scientists rebuilt her lab. Little did they know that she had intentionally brought in those idiots and the dragon and allowed them access. She had to get rid of Arma somehow. The boy was getting too powerful for his own good. The last thing she wanted was a reenactment of those cheesy movies about the creation killing the master.
Even though she killed him, twinge of guilt crossed her mechanical heart. He had looked up to her and considered her to, literally, be his mother. The child had grown to accept her even though she frightened anyone else. Still, she placed him where he always wanted to be; near a music industry. Had he been fully human, he likely would have formed a band. Still, she put him all the way in Dallas in case his regeneration powers advanced.
Suddenly, one of the phones in her body rang. Sending it to a private call that only she could hear, she asked who it was. One of Ozzy Osborne's songs (she recognized the singer from Arma's music) came on. Figuring that she may give him one last honor, she decided to listen to the song. However, towards the end, something that could freeze the water in her tank occurred.
"Momma, I'm coming home..." Arma's voice cut through the song before a click from the other side.
--
I dunno, I think this ranks in the top 5 of 'weirdist things Rurik has done' just becuase of Mother herself...also, try and guess the reference. Cookie to the one who gets it.
I was also limited to 4k words again, so bite me.