Magolor|マホロア

Do you ever get this really strong sense of déjà vu, like everything you're experiencing right now is something you've already been through sometime before? 'Cause, like, I dunno why, but that is exactly what I'm feeling right now, even though I know that's impossible, since as far as I know I've never had to stop my ship right in the middle of space just 'cause there's an unbelievably huge ball of electricity right in front of it.

Groaning as I wait and hope for it to move, I hit my head repeatedly against the control panel of my be-yoo-tee-full ship, the Lor Starcutter. Normally she's a nice, friendly ship— at least to me— but ever since I made some... highly-unfortunate choices awhile back, she's been a bit... fussy at me. Fussy to the extent of not letting me use her inter-dimensional portal drive to travel places quicker. Fussy to the extent of refusing to let me leave this quadrant of the Galaxy until I've satisfied her that I've patched things up with Kirby and his... ally-friend-people. I mean, come on. I built the hero-kid an amusement park. An actual, honest-to-Nova amusement park. What more does she want from me? I mean, sure, the Citrus Constellation quadrant is a lovely place, but seeing as how I'm not exactly welcome on the main star-planet and the other smaller planets all seem to be full of nothing but dopey, wandering hordes of monsters, I'd really like to be able to vamoose elsewhere.

Oh, I guess I should probably introduce myself. The name's Magolor, Captain Magolor if you wanna be formal, just Magolor if you'd rather not. I'm a member of a species known as Halcandrans, which are essentially the same thing as SWs— Star Warriors, if you'd rather— just even more... uh, limbless. Basically, we're puffballs without feet, and with gloves that aren't attached to our bodies. We emit electromagnetic pulses that allow us to use the gloves like hands, and to float above the ground a small ways so we can get around simply by willing ourselves in any given direction.

Myself, I'm of the the race of Halcandrans known as the 'Usagi Tribe' or 'Rabbit Tribe,' which basically translates to my having two large, somewhat pointed, rather long ears sticking out of the top of my head. They're really my most notable feature, given that Halcandrans all wear hoods that cover most of our bodies, leaving nothing but my yellow eyes (turned glowing golden by the hood, which is equipped with a caped scarf that can be used as an air filter— if you saw my home world, you'd understand) and some dark brown around them visible. Since I'm of the clan of Lor, my cloak and cape are patterned with blue, white, and bright yellow, with a splash of purple in the middle for individuality, and since I was born in the town of Clockcogs, the hood also features yellow gear-like designs. The caped scarf that covers my mouth is white with a blue stripe and a silver-colored metal buckle to keep it fastened to my hood securely, and my mitten-like gloves are a buttery yellowish-whitish color (they used to be more off-white, but they've faded some with age).

As for my ship, like I said, it's absitively be-yoo-tee-full. It's a light-blue ship with an almost-circuitry-like pattern that covers practically the entire hull, with three light-blue oars sticking out of the bow-ward port and starboard sides. The bow of the ship is a blue crest, with lighter blue stars decorating it all over, and a large glowing star in the center. There's a large and powerful engine on either side of the back, more of a gray color, with a pure-white wing on either side just above it, each emblazoned with a golden star in its center. On top of the ship towards the stern sits the inter-dimensional core, the only functioning one in the Galaxy, which looks like a room on top of the ship, but is filled with what looks through the portholes like a swirling galaxy. On top of the core is the mast, featuring the ship's emblem, which is instantly recognized all around the Galaxy: an orange cross with a blue galaxy printed on it, with a bright almost-silvery-blue star in the very center. The band that stretches across the hull from the stern to the bow is colored with a couple of different shades of blue, and ends in a small, tight curlicue on either end. All-in-all, the Lor's the most beautiful ship in the Galaxy, and also the most valuable, given her possession of the only functioning inter-dimensional core known to the Galaxy.

Which makes it all the more incredible that I got her for the low-low price of absitively nothing, since I just 'archaeologically' 'excavated' her from a Star Warrior in-space military base over a century and a half ago. I mean, after all, they weren't using it for anything (except as a medic ship) anyway and it's not like anybody (important) died without it.

Okay, quit looking at me like that. Now you look almost like Captain Meta-Not of the Battleship Dead-Bird whenever he's looking at me, which thankfully has been never in two-ish years now.

Anyway, introductions aside, back to the entirely-awful problem that I'm dealing with at the moment.

After finally taking a break from hitting my head against the control panel for the first time in several minutes, I look back up at the giant, sparky ball of electricity, and with a sigh, I turn on my exterior speakers so I can attempt to communicate with it. Even some of the trees in this quadrant are sentient (albeit not exactly all that intelligent most of the time) so why shouldn't this either-lost-or-nomadic-or-both power plant be?

Clearing my throat, I demand into the microphone that sits on one cabinet of the Lor's huge control panel in my amazingly-high-pitched and gloriously-obnoxious, quick-talking voice, "Hey, bub, uh... Hate to be rude, but you're kinda right in the middle of the local space lane, as decreed by the Galactic Council back in like the year 105, (not like I'd expect you to know that since you're from the Galaxy's equivalent of downtown Technologically-Backward Boondocksville), but you kinda are, and that's kinda not very polite of you... so, uh, what I'm trying to say here is... Could you please move your giant, spherical self somewhere else, jerk?! I'm flyin' here!"

The electricity makes no form of reply and continues contentedly floating in space, maybe half a kilometer off the Lor's bow. Welp. It's obviously neither sentient nor intelligent. Back to the 'groaning and hitting my head against the control panel until it leaves' plan, I guess. It's a decent plan, if I do say so myself.

But just as I resume hitting my head against the bridge climate control buttons (leading to the AC being rapidly turned on and off over and over again), a tiny streak of lightning comes out of the control panel, zapping me right in the forehead and knocking back a few feet. "Yowch! What the heck, Lor? I mean, I get you're still sour at me, but that's a bit much, even for you!"

Rubbing my forehead with my eyes closed, I mumble to myself about how mean my ship has been to me ever since I foolishly tried to take over the universe a couple years back, but then freeze when an alarm starts going off and the AI anxiously informs me, "That wasn't me, Captain. I'm being boarded."

"Wait, what? By what?" I panic, flying circles around the room as I try to shut off every alarm that starts going off (I tend to follow a strict 'if it ain't screamin' at me then I don't have to worry about it' policy). Once I get a chance to check out the front viewscreen (it isn't really a window on this side, though there is one on the back), I can see that the stuff outside has vanished and suddenly get a very bad feeling. "That's either really good or really bad. Knowing my luck for the past two-ish years, it's really bad."

Once I finish turning off all the alarms, I give a sigh of relief (totally nothing's going wrong now, right?) and then command the ship, "Welp, Lovely, let's get going. Might be a good time to visit one of the other planets in the area for a couple of days; every time we get close to Popstar lately it's totally covered in storm clouds and I'm kinda getting tired of looking at that all the time while we stay in a wide orbit."

"Course set for Planet Popstar," the ship's AI informs me in a voice that doesn't totally sound like its own— way too crackly and laced with a deeper voice.

"Aw, meep," I mutter to myself, backing away from the control panel, but still determined to pretend like nothing's wrong 'cause I don't really feel like dealing with anything going wrong today (or any other day if I'm being perfectly honest, which is not exactly something I have a great track record with, but whatevs). "No, Lor, I just said I didn't want to look at Popstar anymore. We're definitely not going back to that place; you know I'm kinda considered a detested public enemy there thanks to 'The Time That We Do Not Speak Of.'"

The voice that replies isn't the Lor's AI at all, but a rather crackly, deep, rather-bored-sounding voice coming through the Lor's speakers. "Wouldn't it be better grammar to say 'The Time of which We Do Not Speak?'"

Scowling to myself, I cross my gloves and mutter, "I can say it how I wanna say it, jerk. I'm guessing you're 'Sparky the Incredible Ball of Zappiness,' so now hear this: When I said to get out of the space lane, I didn't mean for you to do it by boarding my ship, ya big jerk!!"

A low, almost-bored laugh comes through the speakers. "It's not your ship anymore, small one. It's mine."

Angrily squealing, I disagree, "Is not! I stole it fair and square! Findies keepsies, losies weepsies, all that!"

The voice laughs again. "Yes, exactly. I found it, and I'm keeping it. You've lost it, and please, feel free to weep— that might actually be almost amusing."

Glaring up at the ceiling, I mutter, "I ain't weepin' for it because I refuse to lose it. Get off my ship, Sparky."

"Stop calling me that," it growls in a voice even lower than Meta-Not's (hopefully you already know about him, 'cause I sure ain't goin' into details— that guy hates me for some reason even beyond the fact that I kinda tried to kill him once and got him to do a bunch of boring, hard work for me for free— it really just isn't fair), and then falls silent for a moment as all of my ship's lights go out and the the computer shuts off completely, leaving nothing but the manual engines running, steadily steering us closer to Planet Popstar. "My name is the Monstrous Lightning, and unless you wish to be ejected off of my ship, you will obey my every command."

Blinking up at the ceiling, I snort once. "Yeah, not happening. I'm my own Captain; I take orders only from myself, thank you just the same. Now get the heck off of my ship!"

The voice isn't the one to reply; the Lor's boarded/compromised AI is. "Airlock opening in 10... 9... 8..."

"Okayokayfine I'll do whatever you want," I plead quickly, grasping my gloves together in an almost-prayer-like fashion. What can I say? I'm a huge coward who always just hides behind his epic ship unless he can't for whatever reason (like because it's been boarded by Sparky the Incredible Ball of Zappiness). Don't knock it; it's a foolproof method that's kept me alive this long, after all.

The voice chuckles but still doesn't turn the lights back on, leaving me almost completely in the dark. "Good. You will address me as 'Sir' or 'M'lord the Monstrous Lightning.' Is that clear?"

Nodding fervently, I awkwardly laugh and agree, "Yeah, mm-hmm, sure, uh, Sir. But, uh, can I just ask Your Great Sparkiness who and what you are, and what you want my ship for?"

He chuckles again. "I'll answer the last question first: I'm tired of floating along through the universe to get to Popstar, whilst simultaneously covering it in storms, so I'm using my ship as a vessel to carry me, and taking a short break from sending the storms out. It doubles as a way to fool the planet into thinking I'm not coming after all, making my true arrival all the more... shocking, if you will. As for my ship, it's quite comfortable, although I'm rather afraid I'm going to entirely overload all its circuits and render it absolutely useless by the time I depart from it. Pity. Ah, well, I'm the only one who's ever going to need it again anyway— wouldn't want any of the poor people of Popstar getting away from me. As to the who, I am the Monstrous Lightning. And as to the what, I am one of the greatest monsters the Lord of Nightmares ever made— a lightning creature so powerful that not even a planet can stand against me. Ever since the war ended and he didn't need my ability to jam ship signals and down ships with my lightning anymore— since he's rather dead and all— I've mostly just been floating around, wondering what to do. And then I realized that I on my own would have the power to take over as many planets for myself as I wanted, and I do rather miss the screaming of innocents as they die at the end of my lightning bolts... So... why not start with Popstar? It's not like there's anyone there to defend that planet other than one pink baby, so it should be hilariously simple to take over, and then claim the rest of the planets of the Citrus Constellation right after."

Rolling my eyes, unimpressed, I mutter, "Okay, first of all, he's less of a pink baby and more of a pink toddler from what I remember, and he's probably grown even more since then, and he more than thoroughly defeated me even when I was wearing the Master Crown aka the source of limitless power, so it's not gonna be anywhere near as easy as you seem to think. Secondly, lemme guess, you're just a Kracko that got pumped full of some sort of scientific Jumbo Juice, m'I'right?" (For point of reference, a Kracko is just a giant, spiky, one-eyed storm cloud that likes shocking people with lightning bolts and spattering them with a combination of jolts of electricity and acid rain, and is typically powered by a few Waddle Doos that it keeps captive. I'm guessing Sparky's one of those, only powered by some sort of Nightmare Cocktail rather than any Waddle Doos).

The monster is silent for a second before roaring furiously, "I am no mere Kracko, you foolish puffling!"

"Huh. 'Foolish puffling.' That's one I've actually never heard before," I comment with all the snark I have in me.

"Airlock opening in 10... 9... 8..."

"OKAYOKAYnevermind, I'm a foolish puffling; nice to meetcha— now please just don't kill me!"

The countdown stops again and the monster gives another cackle. "Mind your tongue, foolish puffling, or next time there will be death."

"Got it," I giggle awkwardly, pressing myself against the wall farthest from the now-constantly-zapping control panel. "Okay, so, like, since you've taken my ship, what do you want me to do?"

Chuckling softly, he answers, "Assist me in taking down the pink baby, of course. Didn't you just say he's defeated you before? Don't you want revenge?"

Sighing, I rub my head with one hand and answer, "Well, I can't exactly say otherwise, so yeah, sure. I'm just not exactly fond of getting myself totally pwned by some random little kid and his grumpy mentor, overweight-and-underbrained monarch, and mute buddy."

"Splendid, so it's a deal. You'll work for me and I'll spare your pathetic life— at least, for now," Sparky declares proudly.

Not wanting to change his mind, I stay quiet and just roll my eyes to myself. Yeah, Kirbs'll make short work of this dweeb; I'm certain. All I need to do is stay out of the way, not get involved anymore than I've gotta, and above all else, avoid Mr. 'Rawr Rawr I Hate Your Guts,' aka Meta-Not.

I'm drawn out of my attempt at non-evil-scheming by the Lightning declaring mostly to himself, "This planet is going to be my own, and it will be wondrous."

Unable to help a bit of snark, I ask him, unimpressed, "Okay, so, what's your motive?"

There's a long pause. "...Motive?"

Rolling my eyes, I repeat, "Ya, motive. What do you want Popstar for?"

Repeating his speech from earlier, he decrees, "It has only a pink baby to protect it, so it will be easy to claim."

"Okay so... why claim anything? What's the point? What are you even going to do with it once you've got it?"

Another long pause. "...I will rule it! Be its king! Prove that I am even greater than the Lord of Nightmares, since even he was never able to take over Popstar!"

"Hoo boy," I mutter softly to myself as I flop back against the door to the control room/bridge (which is sealed shut thanks to the power outage). A real piece of work we've got here. What is it with baddies with, like, no motivation trying to take over Popstar? At least I had a reason behind my actions that actually made sense. Most of these dweebs— Marx, Yin-Yarn, Drawcia, etc., and now this guy— they're just all like 'mwahahaha Imma rule the planet with the pink kid hehe,' and for, like, no reason! What's the point? Why don't they ever have a motive other than unlimited power? Maybe it's a good thing that the Galaxy seems to have run out of motivated badguys ever since Nightmare finally got around to kicking the bucket a few years ago, but still. It's kinda ridiculous. Why don't they, like, try to find some kind of actual purpose in life, or something?

Turning so I'm facing the door to the rest of the ship, I groan and begin hitting my head against it over and over again. I hate getting involved in stuff, and I definitely didn't want to go back to Popstar today. Or, like, ever again.

And yet, like I said... I have a haunting feeling that this has all happened before— or at least, something like this has all happened before— as weird as that sounds, and as non-sense-making as it is.

Hopefully, it'll all be over soon, and I can go back to happily flying my ship around and avoiding all social contact with anybody whatsoever since nobody ever likes me anyway (I guess my awesome factor is just way too high for most mere mortals).

And even more hopefully, hopefully Meta-Not doesn't have to keep the promise he made last time— that if he ever saw any sign of me and my hood ever again, that he'd make sure I never breathed or moved ever again.

Because that'd be pretty bad, for obvious reasons.

Of course, knowing my luck, he's probably gonna be there waiting once we get there, ready to destroy Sparky and all excited (or as close to excited as he can get, heh) that he gets to off me too. Oh, boy. How nice for him. Won't that just make his day. On my end, though...

This obviously just isn't my day.