Mother chapter 2
"Damn it..."
Arma sat in front of a piano, his claws on the keys and with a music book in front of him. The book was an introductory guide to Beethoven's music, and Arma was trying to play the songs on the piano. The piano was white, contrasting his black scales. Although he was fifteen, he was already about six feet tall, making it mildly uncomfortable to play the piano. It was a minor inconvenience, though.
He got this as a gift from Mother, and he was going to make sure he used it well. Already, his claws were hitting the wrong keys, being slightly larger than humans but more delicate than a dragon's. Every time he hit the right keys, he would somehow hit the wrong one after a small burst of perfection. Arma had been in front of the piano for three hours, his only company being his laptop that would buzz occasionally when others wanted to talk to him.
Arma barely heard the noise of the others. By going over there, he would break his concentration and never get back his mojo. Still, he needed a break. Standing up and stretching, he cast a lazy eye to his room. A guitar rested in its case against the wall. The walls were grayish in color, occasionally going into full black or white. Arma picked the color because it went with his scales.
On the wall, a poster of a band named 'Kansas' hung. Over his messy bed (Arma never really felt the urge to make it look nice), another posted, this time of Three Days Grace, stared down. Various others littered his wall; even posters of video games such as, 'Final Fantasy 7', made their appearances. It was difficult to play games now with his claws, but he had special controllers to make up for his big hands.
As soon as he sat down in front of his laptop, a knock on his door alerted him. Whirling around as if he were hiding something, he saw that Mother was standing there. Although he couldn't read her facial expression (she was a giant brain), her hands were slowly clapping. A sense of accomplishment rose swiftly within Arma.
"Not bad at all...I walked by a few times, but you were so busy, I didn't want to disturb you..." Mother didn't move from her spot, but to hear that compliment...it was almost as good as walking down the streets without being fired at.
After a few seconds, Mother left. Even though Arma couldn't see her expression, he knew it was something important. Mother always left in the middle of conversations when that happened. Whirling around to his laptop, he hummed softly to himself.
--
June 16th, 2026.
Arma walked the busy streets of Dallas, eyeing the silvery buildings with mild interest. The green lights that ran up the structure always fascinated him. The way it glowed in the night sky was magical. However, he really couldn't look at it in peace, as the looks from everyone around him showed just how unwelcome he was. It was mostly innocent staring, but it was enough. Surprisingly, Mother hadn't brocasted that he was dead just yet.
It had been a month since Mother inexplicitly betrayed him, shooting him through the chest with one of her prototype weapons. After that, he woke up in Dallas in a grave, near a music store. The first thing he came to notice when he burst out like a zombie was that his body was healed....mostly.
Where he was shot, dull grey scales grew. Arma saw knew that they weren't scars, but could find no other way to describe them. It was either his imagination, or the scales were starting to change the other scales. Regardless, if Mother was the one who made him, he would force her to tell him. An uneasy feeling welled up in his stomach when he thought of that; Mother was his...well...mother, and fighting her seemed wrong.
Still, when she buried him in Dallas, it may have actually helped him. If he was gonna go against Mother, he was going to need allies. One of his online friends, named The Fallen One (based off of her comic character. Her real name was Ellen), lived in this area, and he had seen the house from that Goggle tool. Stalkerish, but it worked out in the end. She was likely going to freak the hell out, especially since she is going to think he was with Mother. For some reason, she hated Mother, and that may lead him to some groups against her.
On the subject of Mother, he soon came to the knowledge that his overcoat, fedora, and glasses were buried with him. It didn't disguise him like in the movies, but he felt safe with them on. The fedora and overcoat were jet black in color, whereas the glasses were red. Someone once asked him if he was a vampire.
Taking his overcoat off, he spread his wings and flew off to the district his friend lived in. Landing softly on the roof of the small blue house, he made his way to the windows. As if it were expecting him to land, a white balcony came from the upper floor. Jumping to that, he leaned against the wall and peeked inside.
There she was, sitting in front of her computer, twiddling a pencil around. A piece of paper was in front of Ellen, outlining a picture from one of her favorite shows. Arma couldn't remember it off the top of his head. Her brunette hair was shoulder length. Even though he couldn't see her eyes, she had told him that they were brown. The form of the human was one of a gymnast and she wore a green top with blue pants. No socks covered her dark, fleshy feet.
Swallowing, he knocked on her window. He was greeted by silence before muffled footsteps going to her closet. When she did that, he remembered that she had a sword; a gift from her father. What father would by his offspring a weapon such as that, he had no idea, but he really hoped she didn't intend to cut off his other arm with it.
"I don't know how you got onto my roof, but if you don't identify yourself, I come out and I can't guarantee things will go well with you." Ellen threatened. She was a pacifist at heart, but he knew she would defend herself if nessisary.
"Err...Blackdragon88," Arma identified himself by his username. It was terribly unoriginal, but people knew who he was from it. When he tried to change it, he was told not to.
"What the...how did you find my house? And why couldn't you just knock?" Ellen started to walk closer, but Arma told her to stop.
"Promise me you won't stab me if you see me," Arma said.
"Why would I...?"
"Just do it...please."
"Ok fine...I promise not to attack you."
"Thanks."
Arma moved into sight and the reaction he got was nothing he didn't expect. Her jaw, had it had the ability to, would have been on the ground. He knew that if he didn't do anything fast, she would have screamed, and suddenly everyone would be against him again. Mother knew he was alive, and if she didn't finish him off, the townsfolk would try to. Either way, it was a losing situation.
Placing his finger in front of his mouth to signal her to be quiet, he stood where he was. He wasn't just gonna barge into the house. "I know I come as a shock....but I need your help."
"Get the hell away from here, pawn of Mother! I want nothing to do with you!" she waved her sword threateningly in front of her.
"I'm not a pawn of her!" Arma weakly defended himself.
"Yeah, ok...there just happens to be another 'dracinoid' who looks exactly like Arma who is against her!"
"I am Arma, but I'm not with her!"
"How do I know you're not lying?"
"BECAUSE SHE SHOT ME!"
Arma had no idea where the anger came from, but he was glad to see that it made her be silent for the moment. To prove his point, he took off his overcoat and showed her where the grey scales were growing. Ellen's expression became unreadable for a few moments, peering at the area where he was shot. It wasn't a perfect circle; it shot out to his shoulders and waist on different sides. It was the same way on his back.
Now calm, he waited until the much smaller human circled around him, her hands gripping the sword tightly. He allowed her to go behind him without watching. If push came to shove, he could easily take her down. Still, he was a bit uncomfortable having a female scan him over.
"The scales are a darker grey your left arm." Ellen said, coming back in front of him, "Plus, I can see that scar on the shoulder. How do I know you aren't just making this up?"
"Why would I lie about Mother? Why would I be down here instead of up in New York?" Arma replied darkly, "And why...why...did I disappear for about a month?"
Arma turned his eyes away from her, looking at the ground. The soft velvet carpet felt good between his toes. The walls themselves were dark blue and thanks to the night sky, he blended in quiet well. After a moment of staring at the floor and wall, he turned back and saw Ellen relax a bit.
"Valid points...but how do I know if I could trust you not to stab me when I turn my back. You know why I hate Mother."
"I do...and I would have killed you by now if I meant you any harm. I left myself open for you to attack," Arma retaliated.
Both stared at each other for a few moments. He really had to admire the fact that she wasn't screaming in terror or attempting to stab him. It was almost hilarious in a way; she was the fifth person to meet him and stand up to him. On that subject, he realized how much he missed his laptop and the bar where Mark worked. Maybe he could go back and recruit him.
"I suppose...but I need a drink. This is so goddamn weird." Ellen sat down on her bed, placing the sword down on it.
"I know...I didn't mean to throw you into this, but I just knew you lived nearby," Arma appogized, scratching the back of his head, giving a small smile. "Y'know, I never understood how humans could live in a place with the ceiling close to the ground."
"Let's not forget you a giant compared to most humans." Ellen reminded, slightly returning the smile, "Alright, I'm going to get a drink. Do you want one?"
"Yeah, I'll take something."
Ellen left the room, and Arma let out a huge sigh of relief, slumping his shoulders and letting his head hang. Yet again, the weight of being the only one of his species (as far as he knew) crashed down on him. Pressing his claw to his forehead, he sat down on the floor. He didn't dare go near her chair and bed; girls generally freaked the hell out when that happened.
Soon, Ellen appeared and handed a slightly larger cup to him. Nodding gratefully, he took a small sip. Bitter yet sweet. Watching her down almost the entire cup, he started to worry that she may suddenly tear her hair out or something. They did that in those weird cartoons and some shows. The fact that she wasn't confused him.
"You want a chair or something?" Ellen asked, "I can't believe I am asking you that..."
"I'd probably break it." Arma ignored the side comment.
"How much do you weight?"
"Five hundred pounds."
The way Ellen's eyes seemed to swell made Arma lean back a bit. "You look nothing like that! I'd estimate half of that at the most!"
"Half dragon, remember?" Arma laughed, taking a glance to her computer screen. Someone by the name of 'Xenoman' was messaging her. Ellen followed his gaze and saw what he was looking at.
"He can wait a bit. He's an annoying prick who keeps bugging me to draw his characters." Ellen frowned at the screen.
Arma nodded. He'd seen her profile on an art/writing site and became friends with her by doing Fanfiction (something that Arma found to be a bit shudder worthy). She really was a fantastic artist and every day someone asked her to do something for them. Arma never really asked, but whenever he did, she usually did. On that subject, everyone must be worried about him.
Xenoman was one of her many stalkers. Although he never talked with him personally, he got that vibe from him from the way he kept commenting on her page. Thankfully Arma had little to do with those types of people because he kinda...faded after his fandom grew too obnoxious for him.
"Yeah, I know." Arma suddenly turned to Ellen, "Hey, would it be alright if I posted a message saying I wasn't dead?"
"Even if I didn't want you too, you could easily kill me and do it anyway." Ellen's voice was almost as cold as the drink he had. Almost. "So go ahead...but if you actually have a shred of decency and this isn't just a rouse to gain my trust, don't open up anything marked with a 'z'."
Arma nodded and went over, signing her out. Then, he typed in his username and password....to find almost a hundred comments on his page asking where he was. Ellen had walked over to him and gave him small nug. Her behavior confused Arma; one minute, she was nice, and then she was cold, and now she was being friendly again. Was she bi-polar?
Arma quickly scanned over the comments before starting to write a small blog that basically said he was alive. He paused after that. Should he tell them that he likely won't be returning any time soon? If so, should he use the reason that he was shot? Shrugging, he decided to put that in. When he was done, he turned to Ellen.
"Kind of amazing how you managed to type without completely destroying my computer..." she commented.
"Despite popular belief, I can be quite gentle. But I didn't come here to do that. As I've said before, I need your help."
"With?"
Arma looked down at her, "I need you to help me find an Anti-Mother group. If I'm going to face her, I need backup."
--
You know the feeling where you are enjoying writing something and then BAM, not interested? Yeah...this happened here