Post by greedyslayer on Jun 27, 2008 11:18:37 GMT -5
Welcome Back by greedyslayer
Stabbing pain and then--
claw twitching on the lab table and optics flare on then narrow as basics download and his fangs form the word 'father' as he stares into the towering frowning yellow mass of teeth
and then, and then--
"Nos-4-A2 calls to you" pierce puncture release fear intoxicating fear so very new dear dear Little one
and then--
bitter acrid taste of vegetables and blood--
bloodbloodblood--Wirewolf, Ranger Parsec, so very very mad, that's it, it was he who grabbed and tossed him and then the stabbing pain and then and then--
Nos' snapped his optics on to an unfamiliar ceiling. He panicked. Mech fluid rushing and pumping everywhere, he leapt off the surface--another lab table--ripping off any monitoring cables attached to his body as he slammed against the wall, slid for a little and scrambling for purchase before finally securing a hold. The energy vampire climbed higher and then angled quickly for more heavily shadowed areas. He stayed there, gasping from the effort, head whirling, every part of his body screaming. His body--it felt...decidedly not in top form. Functional, but not perfect; he certainly must still look a mess (at least his cloak remained in rags). Nos' grip on the wall was more than precarious. All his sensors--along with optics that flickered around the area when not clenched from the intensity of the rushing fluid, the beating headache--concluded that he was in a location of disrepair, abandoned.
Footsteps. Claws tightening against the wall, pressing himself into it more, Nos watched through narrowed optics as--Lightyear?
Nos noticed a distinct addition of facial hair on the human, and wondered how long he had been out (dead). Lightyear was examining the table, fingering the torn off wires, ignoring the array of computer screens around him, varying in activity from online, static, to just plain broken. Nos noticed other things; Lightyear's fashion sense for one, which was disturbingly reminiscent of Father's--that badge with the 'L' emblazoned in his Sire's same style. And as far as the energy vampire could recall, bypassing the cliched and fragmented life-flashing-before-mine-eyes montage from before, the original tag that bore the resemblance he himself had inverted to his own name not too long ago--truly, it felt as if it were only hours ago he had given the order.
But then Nos took in the eyes, and there he found that he was dealing with a completely different creature than the one he was used to. Perhaps it could have been masked, perhaps it was masked by similiarity to a certain extent, but there in Lightyear's eyes there was such an obvious undercurrent of something decidedly not-Lightyear. Well, unlike the man he had fought. Clone, android, alternate universe, brainwashed, the man's just snapped, shape shifter, twin brother, father, a son, some other relation...
A small sigh from the familiar stranger, and Nos' audio matched the voice sample with previous memory logs of the real thing; that, at least, was another similarity.
"Didn't expect you to be up and about this early."
There may have been an audio match, but Nos could sense that undercurrent again, the tone nothing like the Lightyear he knew; something lower and barely fathomable.
"Such a pity, just before I could reprogram you," began not-Lightyear as he edged away from the table and closer to the heavy shadows. For the moment, Nos refrained from scurrying further away--the risk of detectable noise had not been outweighed yet--but panicked, again. There was a visible sincerity in the man's voice, yet the energy vampire still reviewed his mind--he would have immediately felt something wrong, wouldn't he? He checked, and double checked, and triple checked--nothing out of place with his programming. His sense of being, he was mercifully himself, no real violation--
"Perhaps if I had immediately set to work on it, and not gone away to digest what I had examined--" faux Lightyear shrugged. Even his expressions were foreign. "Zurg's programming--" the man stopped his continued entrance into the shadows, shaking his head. "I still can't believe Zurg made you. Still, I found something...quite interesting about your programming...clearly different from mine, but only in one area, and what a difference that seems to make--"
"What. Are. You. Babbling. About?" Although Nos already had an idea.
He climbed higher, and deeper into the shadows as not-Lightyear's eyes probed the darkness, yet unerringly centered where he had been seconds ago.
"I want to hear it from your mouth."
Ruby optics rolled, and his claws continued gouging into the walls. "Another dimension? How...lovely."
Not-Lightyear nodded. "You missed a lot while all your parts began to rust. Really, it's a miracle I was able to reassemble you from the originals at all..."
Mechanized blown out sigh. "I do hope this doesn't lead to another rant of 'how-I-owe-you-life,' and mindless servitude thinly veiled as 'undying loyalty.' I've heard enough of that to last a lifetime."
"And apparently it did." Nos fought down the urge to fly down and tear not-Lightyear's throat out; what did he know of an unbearably and ridiculously painful explosion ripping you inside and out and the all-consuming certainty that you were going to fall into nothingness, that you were going to die, that you had finally failed? But acting on the urge--what a laugh that would be; he wouldd just collapse on the floor and be utterly helpless against his 'savior.' His wings--he was dubious about his wings; they felt incredibly stiff.
Not-Lightyear continued his progress, and said, "I had conquered the known universe by the time your Zurg came into contact with me--"
"You succeeded?" The energy vampire could not fight down that particular outburst. Then he barked out a laugh. "Of course! You're Buzz Bloody Lightyear, you always win!" Though admittedly in his case, it was more XR who continually won, but Nos figured he would wait and see if this other Lightyear would mention his version of the Little One.
The man smirked, and Nos seethed with the desire to maul it off his bearded face. "Long story short, we struck an alliance to repeat my experience with this dimension--"
"--you betrayed Zurg," supplied Nos boredly.
"--and after that my counterpart defeated me." Nos wondered if this man was able to speak so calmly about his own failure, since it was only a different version of himself who had wrought it.
"So, you were stranded here?"
"Yes, but returning to my own dimension is doable, and my Nos-4-A2 will have the empire waiting for me."
The energy vampire chuckled. "What makes you think he'll give it back to you?" Yet his optics remained firmly trained on the gap in the ceiling, the pale sky visible through its rough edges. Nos flexed his wings experimentally, and he winced, drawing them back quickly, which only caused him to bite his tongue. But then not-Lightyear smiled, and there was something else about it, a certain something that began to disturb him, to the point that he turned back to look at him again.
"Back to that difference of programming." The man began to pace. "On paper, your Zurg had a good idea: program a small inclination toward apathy, with a self-evolving mechanism." He shook his head, the smile widening. "The fool--he overlooked the logical conclusion, that with such widespread and continually developing apathy, you would stop caring about obeying his orders. That, and not immediately bringing you back under his wing after that first failure--" Nos flinched at that unforgettable humiliation--"in addition to not spending enough time before your first mission endearing himself to you, instilling further loyalty." His claws burrowed further into the wall, his fangs clenched, his entire body tensed, already anticipating not-Lightyear's own 'difference in programming.'
The man shook his head again; "All he needed was just one minor alteration, exclude himself from the apathy protocol--well, I suppose I shouldn't really be that surprised by any lack of insight and long-term planning on Zurg's part."
Lightyear was now just two steps from being directly below him, and Nos gritted his fangs, realizing--too late--that he had been so absorbed by the man's latest words, he had not registered the closing distance between them.
"But my Nos-4-A2, on the other hand..." For the first time, not-Lightyear raised his head and looked to the upper shadows. "He'll obey me out of love for his Father." A self-flattering, mocking glove against his chest, just below the 'L.' Another step. "Similar to your Zurg's apathy protocol, yet completely different in objective; a specific inclination toward filial loyalty--highly responsive, and that would grow as time passed." Nos' fluids were madly churning now, boiling. "And I treat him just carefully enough. Occasional periods of brief acknowledgment, affection, attention, pride--some calculated, some--I admit--genuine."
Nos' tongue felt fat and heavy and utterly unwieldy in his mouth; something demanded to be snapped back, but he could not grab hold of it. Lo--it was too foreign, he could not comprehend--no, he had never truly felt it; if anything, it was too small, whatever he had once felt for his Father, and easily crushed at the first opportunity.
A light whirring and then a click; Nos began to scramble for the hole as he watched the other Lightyear pull out a formidable blaster. Then the vampire paused, a thought occurring; a rapid inner debate, then decision to go through with it, though still half-expecting all of the ramifications of failure. The vampire released the wall and spread his wings, gliding on appendages that burned in protest. He aimed for the man, who showed no signs of shock as he too aimed his weapon; a feigned swoop, Nos concentrated on being just far enough away to roll to the side of the fired blast (he could just feel the heat of it, and though he was tempted, he was not ready to test his absorption capabilities on incoming fire so soon after dying). He immediately began pumping his wings up, which increasingly felt as if they would fall part any second now. He was higher; another blast; dodge--he made to erratically zigzag just below the cracked ceiling, though admittedly, that was really all he could do in the way of flight, a ridiculous mimicry of it. But it was enough. Barely. One by one he dodged the other Lightyear's blasts, and again and again he registered the searing radiation edging his frame, made sure not to lose direction from the one light graze on his arm.
Nos could not expect his wings to hold up for long, nor count on the man to continue playing into it for more than a few seconds, he had to make sure the most vital areas were struck--a heaving and a buckling, and the other Lightyear's eyes narrowed as the ceiling began to fall. He retreated one way, and Nos went the opposite, determinedly racing for the hole he had tried to maneuver out of any possible attention. The man's eyes narrowed further, and even as he continued on his own path and avoided the debris, he continued to fire. The vampire had to avoid both shots and rocks, only hoping that at least the shots would abate before the debris ran out--he needed that cover.
Out. Nos merely glanced back, and found that hoping the whole building fell on top of the other Lightyear was too much to hope for; still, it was a good-sized portion, and adequate for his escape. The vampire still had not grown used to the screaming in his wings; he flapped up, up, deeper into this run-down sector, then he leveled out into a glide. Tradeworld, he recognized it, he was definitely back on that planet, which perpetually carried its own indicative brand of dilapidation. Gradually, he picked up other sentient activity within the buildings, small bustling movements, marking entrance into a generally more inhabited area. Nos angled into an alley. Farther into it, where it was pitch-black, the surface of the walls prone to adequate shielding and perhaps slightly matching his own shadow. Nos landed silently against a wall and hooked a grip, once more flattening himself into further obscurity.
His wings collapsed in trembling exhaustion, his whole body slumping down with them, limp and wrung out. After all that, the frequent red alert warnings that had flashed in his mind increased in volume, and his entire body turned traitor--he coughed. With more and more intensity until he was shuddering along with the wretching--oily dark mech fluid all over his front and against the wall he clung too. What. Was. This? He had never...never vomited before, robots were not supposed to do that, that was too organic--then again, most robots did not really feed on others like he did. Nos leaned his head against the wall, not bothering to wipe the leftover fluid that framed his mouth, with little droplets still dribbling down. All sensors trained for the other Lightyear's possible approach.
What now? Much too exhausted to even move; have to wait, rest, just an hour, pay attention to that man's approach, elude him, how long will he track me? I must put more distance between him and I faster--so tired; need to feed--I can't even sense any prey in the area, how will I--need to feed feed feed hunger. (Ignore what he said about Other Lives.) Wait, rest, escape, feed, revenge--revenge? Feed, escape, feed, just an hour, just a--no, I need to keep moving hunger (What now?)
...
Lightyear calmly sat on the lab table. I gravely underestimated him. He shook his head, a thin smile between the beard. What have I been trying to teach my Nos? He then stood up, cracked his neck, stretched his arms, his legs; was it respect that stayed his pursuit? Lightyear had been perfectly willing to reprogram this version of his favorite agent--why else would he have gone to the trouble of reconstructing him? Well, admittedly there was something undeniably tragic about one of his greatest, most useful creations shattered and inactive--what a waste. Even if this Nos was not precisely his; even if his Nos was undoubtedly up and running the empire, while his counterpart remained in pieces. Until recently. Though much more recently than planned; yes, Lightyear supposed he was impressed that this dimension's vampire took advantage of his own lax guard. The man chuckled. My my, I actually monologued. Still, pride was not necessarily enough reason to let this one off the hook, at least for the moment--but Lightyear felt oddly lethargic, just a little too bored by the prospect of pursuit.
"So, you were stranded here?"
The man paused at the popped up memory, then lightly frowned, considering. He had not lied, he had been surprisingly honest throughout the exchange (more often than not, it was the most effective weapon); once he put the effort into it, he could return home. And perhaps, it was not only pride that stayed his hand; it made sense that this universe's Nos would strongly bring up his own vampire to mind. Another plan was already stirring; true, Lightyear had prolonged his stay in this dimension after that first defeat out of curiosity, but still, that defeat did weigh in his consciousness--he rather wanted to test himself against himself once more. It was such a fascinating exercise. This time, why not bring his own Nos-4-A2 into the mix? And why stop there; versions of Torque were here, and those of the Gargantian Militants, a faction of still restless Grounders, the Raenoks; it would be amusing to see if he could persuade Zurg and Gravitina again, see whether they could fall for the same trick twice; and of the greatest interest, Warp Darkmatter, apparently also inverted from his own dimension--but perhaps, in the final stage, Lightyear should be more selective.
His own and the other...Lightyear smirked; having two nearly identical copies of the vampire would surely offer a number of opportunities.
Notes: It's been forever since I've seen Evil Lightyear in action, so sorry if I messed up characterization there. I was heavily inspired by this:
"Here's my theory:
Let's assume that maybe Zurg had his morning coffee and meds the day he was going to start programming Nos, okay?
Maybe it was his intention to make him not care. Maybe it's hardwired into him to not care. I mean, this is EVIL EMPORER ZURG we're talking about here. He wasn't about to take any chances when it came to emotions. He's lost a few henchmen due to emotional responses. So the moment he sat up in bed and decided he was going to make a vampire robot, the first thing he was probably going to do was boot out the software that makes robots care about others.
And because of this, Nos-4-A2 has turned into the cruel sadist we all know..."
-Stellar
Stabbing pain and then--
claw twitching on the lab table and optics flare on then narrow as basics download and his fangs form the word 'father' as he stares into the towering frowning yellow mass of teeth
and then, and then--
"Nos-4-A2 calls to you" pierce puncture release fear intoxicating fear so very new dear dear Little one
and then--
bitter acrid taste of vegetables and blood--
bloodbloodblood--Wirewolf, Ranger Parsec, so very very mad, that's it, it was he who grabbed and tossed him and then the stabbing pain and then and then--
Nos' snapped his optics on to an unfamiliar ceiling. He panicked. Mech fluid rushing and pumping everywhere, he leapt off the surface--another lab table--ripping off any monitoring cables attached to his body as he slammed against the wall, slid for a little and scrambling for purchase before finally securing a hold. The energy vampire climbed higher and then angled quickly for more heavily shadowed areas. He stayed there, gasping from the effort, head whirling, every part of his body screaming. His body--it felt...decidedly not in top form. Functional, but not perfect; he certainly must still look a mess (at least his cloak remained in rags). Nos' grip on the wall was more than precarious. All his sensors--along with optics that flickered around the area when not clenched from the intensity of the rushing fluid, the beating headache--concluded that he was in a location of disrepair, abandoned.
Footsteps. Claws tightening against the wall, pressing himself into it more, Nos watched through narrowed optics as--Lightyear?
Nos noticed a distinct addition of facial hair on the human, and wondered how long he had been out (dead). Lightyear was examining the table, fingering the torn off wires, ignoring the array of computer screens around him, varying in activity from online, static, to just plain broken. Nos noticed other things; Lightyear's fashion sense for one, which was disturbingly reminiscent of Father's--that badge with the 'L' emblazoned in his Sire's same style. And as far as the energy vampire could recall, bypassing the cliched and fragmented life-flashing-before-mine-eyes montage from before, the original tag that bore the resemblance he himself had inverted to his own name not too long ago--truly, it felt as if it were only hours ago he had given the order.
But then Nos took in the eyes, and there he found that he was dealing with a completely different creature than the one he was used to. Perhaps it could have been masked, perhaps it was masked by similiarity to a certain extent, but there in Lightyear's eyes there was such an obvious undercurrent of something decidedly not-Lightyear. Well, unlike the man he had fought. Clone, android, alternate universe, brainwashed, the man's just snapped, shape shifter, twin brother, father, a son, some other relation...
A small sigh from the familiar stranger, and Nos' audio matched the voice sample with previous memory logs of the real thing; that, at least, was another similarity.
"Didn't expect you to be up and about this early."
There may have been an audio match, but Nos could sense that undercurrent again, the tone nothing like the Lightyear he knew; something lower and barely fathomable.
"Such a pity, just before I could reprogram you," began not-Lightyear as he edged away from the table and closer to the heavy shadows. For the moment, Nos refrained from scurrying further away--the risk of detectable noise had not been outweighed yet--but panicked, again. There was a visible sincerity in the man's voice, yet the energy vampire still reviewed his mind--he would have immediately felt something wrong, wouldn't he? He checked, and double checked, and triple checked--nothing out of place with his programming. His sense of being, he was mercifully himself, no real violation--
"Perhaps if I had immediately set to work on it, and not gone away to digest what I had examined--" faux Lightyear shrugged. Even his expressions were foreign. "Zurg's programming--" the man stopped his continued entrance into the shadows, shaking his head. "I still can't believe Zurg made you. Still, I found something...quite interesting about your programming...clearly different from mine, but only in one area, and what a difference that seems to make--"
"What. Are. You. Babbling. About?" Although Nos already had an idea.
He climbed higher, and deeper into the shadows as not-Lightyear's eyes probed the darkness, yet unerringly centered where he had been seconds ago.
"I want to hear it from your mouth."
Ruby optics rolled, and his claws continued gouging into the walls. "Another dimension? How...lovely."
Not-Lightyear nodded. "You missed a lot while all your parts began to rust. Really, it's a miracle I was able to reassemble you from the originals at all..."
Mechanized blown out sigh. "I do hope this doesn't lead to another rant of 'how-I-owe-you-life,' and mindless servitude thinly veiled as 'undying loyalty.' I've heard enough of that to last a lifetime."
"And apparently it did." Nos fought down the urge to fly down and tear not-Lightyear's throat out; what did he know of an unbearably and ridiculously painful explosion ripping you inside and out and the all-consuming certainty that you were going to fall into nothingness, that you were going to die, that you had finally failed? But acting on the urge--what a laugh that would be; he wouldd just collapse on the floor and be utterly helpless against his 'savior.' His wings--he was dubious about his wings; they felt incredibly stiff.
Not-Lightyear continued his progress, and said, "I had conquered the known universe by the time your Zurg came into contact with me--"
"You succeeded?" The energy vampire could not fight down that particular outburst. Then he barked out a laugh. "Of course! You're Buzz Bloody Lightyear, you always win!" Though admittedly in his case, it was more XR who continually won, but Nos figured he would wait and see if this other Lightyear would mention his version of the Little One.
The man smirked, and Nos seethed with the desire to maul it off his bearded face. "Long story short, we struck an alliance to repeat my experience with this dimension--"
"--you betrayed Zurg," supplied Nos boredly.
"--and after that my counterpart defeated me." Nos wondered if this man was able to speak so calmly about his own failure, since it was only a different version of himself who had wrought it.
"So, you were stranded here?"
"Yes, but returning to my own dimension is doable, and my Nos-4-A2 will have the empire waiting for me."
The energy vampire chuckled. "What makes you think he'll give it back to you?" Yet his optics remained firmly trained on the gap in the ceiling, the pale sky visible through its rough edges. Nos flexed his wings experimentally, and he winced, drawing them back quickly, which only caused him to bite his tongue. But then not-Lightyear smiled, and there was something else about it, a certain something that began to disturb him, to the point that he turned back to look at him again.
"Back to that difference of programming." The man began to pace. "On paper, your Zurg had a good idea: program a small inclination toward apathy, with a self-evolving mechanism." He shook his head, the smile widening. "The fool--he overlooked the logical conclusion, that with such widespread and continually developing apathy, you would stop caring about obeying his orders. That, and not immediately bringing you back under his wing after that first failure--" Nos flinched at that unforgettable humiliation--"in addition to not spending enough time before your first mission endearing himself to you, instilling further loyalty." His claws burrowed further into the wall, his fangs clenched, his entire body tensed, already anticipating not-Lightyear's own 'difference in programming.'
The man shook his head again; "All he needed was just one minor alteration, exclude himself from the apathy protocol--well, I suppose I shouldn't really be that surprised by any lack of insight and long-term planning on Zurg's part."
Lightyear was now just two steps from being directly below him, and Nos gritted his fangs, realizing--too late--that he had been so absorbed by the man's latest words, he had not registered the closing distance between them.
"But my Nos-4-A2, on the other hand..." For the first time, not-Lightyear raised his head and looked to the upper shadows. "He'll obey me out of love for his Father." A self-flattering, mocking glove against his chest, just below the 'L.' Another step. "Similar to your Zurg's apathy protocol, yet completely different in objective; a specific inclination toward filial loyalty--highly responsive, and that would grow as time passed." Nos' fluids were madly churning now, boiling. "And I treat him just carefully enough. Occasional periods of brief acknowledgment, affection, attention, pride--some calculated, some--I admit--genuine."
Nos' tongue felt fat and heavy and utterly unwieldy in his mouth; something demanded to be snapped back, but he could not grab hold of it. Lo--it was too foreign, he could not comprehend--no, he had never truly felt it; if anything, it was too small, whatever he had once felt for his Father, and easily crushed at the first opportunity.
A light whirring and then a click; Nos began to scramble for the hole as he watched the other Lightyear pull out a formidable blaster. Then the vampire paused, a thought occurring; a rapid inner debate, then decision to go through with it, though still half-expecting all of the ramifications of failure. The vampire released the wall and spread his wings, gliding on appendages that burned in protest. He aimed for the man, who showed no signs of shock as he too aimed his weapon; a feigned swoop, Nos concentrated on being just far enough away to roll to the side of the fired blast (he could just feel the heat of it, and though he was tempted, he was not ready to test his absorption capabilities on incoming fire so soon after dying). He immediately began pumping his wings up, which increasingly felt as if they would fall part any second now. He was higher; another blast; dodge--he made to erratically zigzag just below the cracked ceiling, though admittedly, that was really all he could do in the way of flight, a ridiculous mimicry of it. But it was enough. Barely. One by one he dodged the other Lightyear's blasts, and again and again he registered the searing radiation edging his frame, made sure not to lose direction from the one light graze on his arm.
Nos could not expect his wings to hold up for long, nor count on the man to continue playing into it for more than a few seconds, he had to make sure the most vital areas were struck--a heaving and a buckling, and the other Lightyear's eyes narrowed as the ceiling began to fall. He retreated one way, and Nos went the opposite, determinedly racing for the hole he had tried to maneuver out of any possible attention. The man's eyes narrowed further, and even as he continued on his own path and avoided the debris, he continued to fire. The vampire had to avoid both shots and rocks, only hoping that at least the shots would abate before the debris ran out--he needed that cover.
Out. Nos merely glanced back, and found that hoping the whole building fell on top of the other Lightyear was too much to hope for; still, it was a good-sized portion, and adequate for his escape. The vampire still had not grown used to the screaming in his wings; he flapped up, up, deeper into this run-down sector, then he leveled out into a glide. Tradeworld, he recognized it, he was definitely back on that planet, which perpetually carried its own indicative brand of dilapidation. Gradually, he picked up other sentient activity within the buildings, small bustling movements, marking entrance into a generally more inhabited area. Nos angled into an alley. Farther into it, where it was pitch-black, the surface of the walls prone to adequate shielding and perhaps slightly matching his own shadow. Nos landed silently against a wall and hooked a grip, once more flattening himself into further obscurity.
His wings collapsed in trembling exhaustion, his whole body slumping down with them, limp and wrung out. After all that, the frequent red alert warnings that had flashed in his mind increased in volume, and his entire body turned traitor--he coughed. With more and more intensity until he was shuddering along with the wretching--oily dark mech fluid all over his front and against the wall he clung too. What. Was. This? He had never...never vomited before, robots were not supposed to do that, that was too organic--then again, most robots did not really feed on others like he did. Nos leaned his head against the wall, not bothering to wipe the leftover fluid that framed his mouth, with little droplets still dribbling down. All sensors trained for the other Lightyear's possible approach.
What now? Much too exhausted to even move; have to wait, rest, just an hour, pay attention to that man's approach, elude him, how long will he track me? I must put more distance between him and I faster--so tired; need to feed--I can't even sense any prey in the area, how will I--need to feed feed feed hunger. (Ignore what he said about Other Lives.) Wait, rest, escape, feed, revenge--revenge? Feed, escape, feed, just an hour, just a--no, I need to keep moving hunger (What now?)
...
Lightyear calmly sat on the lab table. I gravely underestimated him. He shook his head, a thin smile between the beard. What have I been trying to teach my Nos? He then stood up, cracked his neck, stretched his arms, his legs; was it respect that stayed his pursuit? Lightyear had been perfectly willing to reprogram this version of his favorite agent--why else would he have gone to the trouble of reconstructing him? Well, admittedly there was something undeniably tragic about one of his greatest, most useful creations shattered and inactive--what a waste. Even if this Nos was not precisely his; even if his Nos was undoubtedly up and running the empire, while his counterpart remained in pieces. Until recently. Though much more recently than planned; yes, Lightyear supposed he was impressed that this dimension's vampire took advantage of his own lax guard. The man chuckled. My my, I actually monologued. Still, pride was not necessarily enough reason to let this one off the hook, at least for the moment--but Lightyear felt oddly lethargic, just a little too bored by the prospect of pursuit.
"So, you were stranded here?"
The man paused at the popped up memory, then lightly frowned, considering. He had not lied, he had been surprisingly honest throughout the exchange (more often than not, it was the most effective weapon); once he put the effort into it, he could return home. And perhaps, it was not only pride that stayed his hand; it made sense that this universe's Nos would strongly bring up his own vampire to mind. Another plan was already stirring; true, Lightyear had prolonged his stay in this dimension after that first defeat out of curiosity, but still, that defeat did weigh in his consciousness--he rather wanted to test himself against himself once more. It was such a fascinating exercise. This time, why not bring his own Nos-4-A2 into the mix? And why stop there; versions of Torque were here, and those of the Gargantian Militants, a faction of still restless Grounders, the Raenoks; it would be amusing to see if he could persuade Zurg and Gravitina again, see whether they could fall for the same trick twice; and of the greatest interest, Warp Darkmatter, apparently also inverted from his own dimension--but perhaps, in the final stage, Lightyear should be more selective.
His own and the other...Lightyear smirked; having two nearly identical copies of the vampire would surely offer a number of opportunities.
Notes: It's been forever since I've seen Evil Lightyear in action, so sorry if I messed up characterization there. I was heavily inspired by this:
"Here's my theory:
Let's assume that maybe Zurg had his morning coffee and meds the day he was going to start programming Nos, okay?
Maybe it was his intention to make him not care. Maybe it's hardwired into him to not care. I mean, this is EVIL EMPORER ZURG we're talking about here. He wasn't about to take any chances when it came to emotions. He's lost a few henchmen due to emotional responses. So the moment he sat up in bed and decided he was going to make a vampire robot, the first thing he was probably going to do was boot out the software that makes robots care about others.
And because of this, Nos-4-A2 has turned into the cruel sadist we all know..."
-Stellar
Brilliant.
It's done what very few fics have managed to do, at least for me: take Nos-4-A2, keep him in character, and make him sympathetic. I've seen several fanon interpretations of Nos that try to make him more sympathetic by completely changing his character, but that's definitely not the case here. You're definitely writing Nos the way I'd see him in a position where he's not the aggressor, but on the defense.
Well, okay, I'm more tempted to use that excuse to make Evil Lightyear's XR the same size as main-verse XR--I just like him adorably small? 
When we were discussing our own attempts at Nos resurrection, I was still pretty sure that no one would actually consider Evil Lightyear putting the reconstruction into action, so I was pretty sure we would have different versions, and there'd be nothing repetitive.