World So Cold [Cole]

"Perfect. Out of water. This was a great idea, Cole. You should have stayed put in your weird little medieval world with the hot redhead. You like hot redheads, remember? Just not the ones that-" The stream of almost-incoherent, disgruntled babbling was brought to a stop as Coulson Pike nearly slid down an upturned rock, catching himself just barely with a hand to keep from scrapping his ass to bits. "Oh yeah, go ahead, break your neck now. Just a great idea. Best you've had in a while."

Cole's talking to himself was most likely a good enough sign that he was in trouble. And, well, he truly was in trouble. Being one of the most brilliant people around, Cole had decided that taking a short trip to hell in one portal hadn't been enough. So he'd purposefully thrown himself into another portal with the babbled-about redhead, Alice, in order to try and get home. "Oh, look at this! Another pathway that's blocked! I'm still stuck up here!" Well, that hadn't worked out. Alice was nowhere to be seen, and for all he could tell he'd been spit out into purgatory. There was nothing but rocks and rubble as far as the eye could see, and no matter how far Cole had trekked - he had been trekking for hours now - the landscape never changed. The only thing different now was that the rubble had taken on the shape of a collapsed tower and he was having to avoid the occasional monster. Oh, and the sun was beating down on him incessantly and he'd just run out of water in his canteen, which he was tempted to throw to the ground and stomp in frustration until he remembered he'd probably need it if he ever did find a source of water amongst the sea of rocks.

Not that he was all that optimistic that he would find such a thing.

But Cole kept moving and bumbling less and less coherently, hoping he would find at least some partially intelligent person digging through the rubble in the distance. That presented a problem in itself, since he couldn't figure out how to get down from the plateau he was currently stranded on without flinging himself down towards the ground and dying in a pile of blood and bones. Considering the circumstances, this option did not seem to be such a bad one. After a couple more minutes of pacing back and forth along the edge of the drop, searching for a way down and chanting about how unlucky he was, Cole finally found a slightly less-steep portion of the cliff that he could maybe possibly descend.....but it was going to take some luck. "Okay, Cole...just don't look down, don't get going too fast, and you'll be perfectly fine...." The tower say below him, and he thought - he could have been hallucinating at this point - that he saw at least something semi-human moving near the overturned tip of the tower. God, he hoped they were more friendly than those PSICOM assholes back in the last world. Knowing his luck, he was probably in the exact world Alice was from, and those hanging around the tower were all angry PSICOM soldiers searching for him. ...Alright, so maybe that was a bit pessimistic, but it was an option.

Taking one more breath to gather confidence, Cole sat down and started easing his way - very slowly - down the incline, inching his way down by sliding a little ways, catching on a rock with his feet or his hands to slow down, and then sliding again. At this rate, he supposed he'd be down at the tower in half an hour.....with the back of his pants gone forever. And damn, he liked these pants. They wouldn't work as well as chaps...

"Oh God....oh God....my back...." Cole made a note to self in the back of his mind - never decide to slide down the side of an incline before checking it for jagged rocks. He'd made a little progress down the side, grunting and occasionally yelling if he started to lose his grip and start sliding too quickly. As painful as it was, Cole could see the ground coming closer and closer and new he might just be out of this shitstorm of a situation shortly. Even if the person he had seen hanging around the tower was an asshole, at least he would be down from that damn plateau. That alone was worth scratching himself up a little bit. He'd been through worse for less of a chance at success, that was for sure. Just take it slow, Cole....take it really slow....

He'd gone about ten more feet when he stopped a second to adjust his pants leg so to avoid having a huge red burn on his leg when he reached the bottom. Cole huffed and puffed a bit to accomplish the task before succeeding, allowing himself to lie there and rest for a few seconds before he started again. He shielded his eyes from the impossibly-vicious sun, wishing the incline would suddenly turn into a waterfall. No such luck it seemed. So, he'd prop himself up, get going again, and-

As soon as Cole started to slide again...he witnessed the strangest thing he'd witnessed in the past two days, and that was really saying something for a guy who had fallen through two portals in those two days. Below him, on the ground, there had been no one standing there. And right before Cole's eyes, an old man - and not just any old man, an old man in a wedding dress - just appeared out of thin air, standing there at the base of the cliff and staring up at Cole with a gaze that was reserved for a man shopping in a meat market. Cole should have been too far away to hear the old man say anything, but his words were as clear as day - "Your destiny awaits."

Cole wouldn't have had the ability to grab ahold of the next rock even if he had been mentally capable of remembering what he was doing. Instead, agape at the sudden appearance of the old man, Cole kept sliding and eventually ended up on his side, rolling violently and picking up speed as he went along. "Aaaaahhhhh oh shit oh shit!" His words gave way to expressions of pain as he bumped into a couple of rocks, turning over and over and over. Yet Cole couldn't even register the pain quite yet, still able to see the old man passing through his vision with every roll. Eventually Cole managed to barely catch himself on a rock, nearly jarring his arm out of its socket, and he, barely conscious, slid along with a pile of displaced gravel down the remainder of the incline, right up to the old man's feet. Cole could barely keep his eyes open, and just before they shut, his eyes caught one frightening sight - the supremely long fingernails on the old man's hands.

He decided he'd never seen anything so disturbing in his life before he momentarily passed out.

Everything hurt. So many things hurt that Cole couldn't even count all of his hurts. Heck, it probably would have taken less time to count those parts of his body that didn't hurt. It would be a shorter list. List...he was making so many lists today. Lists of things he was never going to do again - like approach a huge magic vortex in a wine cellar or try to slide down the side of a cliff he couldn't walk down. That's why he hurt, wasn't it? Because he'd rolled down the side of that cliff in his best impression of a tumbleweed. Yeah, that was right? What was it that had made him fall to begin with, though? He remembered it going so well for a few minutes, his little cautious-sliding plan. Then he- something had- something had surprised him. And he'd fallen. What was it that had surprised him so much?

The old man. That smirk. That dress. Those fingernails.

Cole awoke with a loud yell, driving himself up into a seated position instantly. He regretted moving so suddenly, as the fresh, bloody gashes he'd received while falling down the incline throbbed in protest. The Nabradian stopped, grabbing at a particularly painful wound at his side. Wasn't that bad of a wound, but it still didn't feel great. Though glad that he remained intact, more or less, he was not glad when he looked up from his side and realized he was definitely not sitting where he had landed....at the old man's feet. He was in....some sort of room. "Oh no..." His head jerked to the side, his eyes widening momentarily as he took in the form of the old man....standing right there beside him, with his back turned. Scrambling to his feet, Cole drew one of the pistols from its holster and pointed it at the old man's back, putting a little distance between the two of them.

Okay...okay.....so he'd been kidnapped by a dirty old man. Nothing to worry about, right? He was just dealing with a weirdo. No need to get all that upset. But...hadn't this old man basically...appeared out of nowhere? That was what had led Cole to falling down the side of the cliff in the first place. No, your average old man didn't just pop up from out of the blue. And...where was Cole now? He chanced a glance or two away from the old man, taking in the walls around him and general appearance of the place. The...inside of that tower? Cole supposed so. Well, at least the old man hadn't dragged him that far. Heck, maybe the old guy was just trying to help him. Yeah, wishful thinking there, Cole.

He kept the weapon trained on the old man's back, hoping he didn't have to use it. He'd shot enough people in strange worlds for one week, thank you very much. "Wha-" He stopped short, realizing he didn't have all that much wind to call on. Damn, he must have really hit something hard. Or broken a rib. Just perfect. "Why did you bring me here?", Cole demanded, both angrily and desperately, swiping aside a little blood that threatened to run into his eye from a cut over his eyebrow. "And...what world is this?", came his second question, this one absolutely dripping in confusion as he glanced around at the room again. At this point, he was willing to take answers from anyone he ran into - even this guy. And that was the epitome of true desperation.

Okay, so not only was he a strange old man in a wedding dress who hadn't clipped his nails in a year. He was a strange, rambling old man in a wedding dress who hadn't clipped his nails in a year and must have once been in theater, with the overly dramatic way he was talking. Cole stared at the old man in disbelief, not quite sure yet if he should be all that worried for his own safety or if the old man was just basically a delusional nutjob who knew a few magic spells. Had Cole really just seen the old man appear out of nowhere, or had the hot sun just made him delusional? He was beginning to doubt whether any of this was real, wondering if he should pinch himself before the old man started up again, blabbering on about just how useless Cole's gun was. And then some crap about destiny again. If Cole managed to get out of here, he was having this old man checked into the nearest mental hospital, unless everyone on this world was nuts. With what little Cole had seen of the landscape here, it was possible that this was a planet filled with crazy hermits. Where were the people? The civilization? Why hadn't he seen anyone before this nutcase? Why didn't the cavalry come and take away this nutcase right now?

Cole stepped back every time the old man took a step towards him. "Look, old man, I don't want to shoot you." Cole never actually wanted to shoot anybody, but sometimes he had to. If this whole encounter got any weirder, he might find himself just having to on this occasion. "You're talking...like a nutcase!", Cole said, through an incredulous chuckle. "The only destiny I'm fulfilling lately is a shitty one, so I'd like to get out of this little moogle hole of yours, get off this planet, and go home to try another, less painful destiny. Are you going to let me pass or not?" As weird as this guy was, he had....a big stick. And a mean headdress. Cole had two loaded guns on him. He felt he had the stark advantage in this instance.

Gran....Pulse? Well damn, so he was on the right planet then. So this was where Alice lived? One hell of a planet, he'd say. Now he knew where she got her somewhat strange personality and survivalist attitude. Too bad-

"Whoa! What-" Cole couldn't get a complete thought out before the strange magic orbs the old man had cast crashed against the wall behind him and casually brought some of it down. He only took a moment to stare at it before turning back around, aiming his gun at the old man's head. "Screw it." Alright, so a crazy old magical loon was going to have to die today, the world would be better off. He fired twice with the gun, finding immediately that both shots hit some sort of sheen put up around the old man before they connected. In fact, the old man had seemingly gone nuts altogether, basking in his own magical glory. Cole scrunched up his face disgustedly at the display, pulling the other gun from its holster and glancing up at the owl circling above him, taking a pot-shot at it before turning and unloading another useless shot at the old man, looking for a way to get the hell out of this situation all the while.

Instead, he just ran, trying to get around the old man and to the other side of the room. Where the hell did they put the door in this place? Oh, right, crazy magic old man. There probably wasn't a door. Perfect.

"...How the hell do you know my name?" Okay, so Cole was making another list in his mind. This one had to do with all the things about this old man that made him so damn creepy. First, the dress he wore that looked like something a Dalmascan bride would wear at her wedding. Not only did it exude weirdness, it also made Cole hope the old man never got caught over an exhaust vent, or that dress would fly up and reveal far, far too much skin. Secondly - the man had not cut his fingernails in ages. Thirdly - he had a mullet. Fourthly - he rambled on about being so powerful and knowing Cole's destiny and all this other garble. Fifthly - and finally - he had known Cole's name for absolutely no reason. The latter, and the display of magic the old man had put on, had been the reason Cole decided he couldn't go any longer without trying to put a bullet in the old man's brain, however ineffective that idea had been.

In his own strange way, Cole didn't know whether he should laugh or cry at his current situation. He decided neither was a viable option - running was a much better solution. At this point, he knew himself to be in genuine danger here - he'd faced magic-users before, but this old dude was clearly both crazy and a cut above the typical magic caster. Cole wondered why he hadn't already been killed, but he did not dwell on the thought for long. Hopefully the old man would not turn out to be a track star. Cole never bothered to look back, sprinting with as much speed as his tired, sore body could muster towards the far end of the room, eyes darting everywhere in search for a door or a staircase from which he could make his escape. All he could see were a few odd machines he couldn't have used even if he wanted to. He imagined this would have been a very good time for Alice to show up and lend him a hand, but he wasn't that lucky. She was probably hundreds of miles from here.

Cole was thankful he was at least putting some distance between himself and the lunatic.

Until the old man materialized right in front of him.

Letting out a gasp of surprise, Cole threw on the brakes as hard as he could, almost sliding to the ground, his eyes as big as saucers as he stared at the freak of nature before him. As the old man presented his mocking question, a sudden rage overcame Cole's surprise. Cole, battle cry and all, reared back his fist to deliver a huge right hook to the old man's nose. Instead, he found his own momentum turn against him, and he was launched backwards with a yell of surprise. He landed roughly on his back and rolled twice before coming to a stop. His arm felt as if it had been shoved through his chest and ripped back out. Cole, his pride sorely wounded, could do nothing but reel and pant there on the ground, staring up angrily and fearfully at his assailant.

Couldn't shoot this old man. Couldn't punch him. Couldn't escape.

Coulson Pike believed he was thoroughly doomed.

The defiant side of Cole wanted him to try to get back to his feet, try to fight back, or at the very least try to get the hell away from this freak of nature. But rationality won. What good would it do? Cole obviously couldn't do a damn thing to harm this bastard, and running away had gone so well the first time that trying it again just seemed like overkill. But could he really just lie there idly while the old man stepped up to him and....fulfilled his destiny? Cole didn't even know what the hell that destiny was, and the more he thought about it the more he felt anger grip at him. Unfortunately, his body was in no shape to follow through with this anger, and Cole was left staring up furiously at the old, demented bastard, almost wishing the fall from earlier had killed him.

Cole shook away as the old man reached down to take hold of him, but he was latched onto anyway, kicking angrily when he felt those damned fingernails break the skin. He continued kicking uselessly until he felt a rush of air wash over him and braced, eyes squinted shut, for what he knew would be the most horrible sensation he ever felt. Instead, he felt a slight whipping wind take hold of him and the grip on his arm loosened. Opening his eyes again, Cole no longer saw the confines of the tower-place, but instead seemed to be out in the open somewhere. Scrambling to his feet, he realized somewhere could be easily defined. They were on top of the tower's remains. Cole could see everything and was almost enamored by the scene, but the old man's blabbering brought him back to the cold, hard reality of his situation. There didn't even seem to be any settlements around.

....What the hell was this place?

His eyes settled back on the old man as he squinted against the sunlight. The sun wasn't the only bright thing up on top of the tower, though, and Cole shielded his eyes temporarily as the old freak started glowing. Here we go again, he thought, assuming he was about to get maimed by magic or something. Instead, the glowing subsided, and Cole's jaw dropped as his eyesight focused on the person standing before him.

Alice.

So, what had he taken her too? Just to perfect his little mad scheme of torturing Cole for no reason at all? What the fuck was this guy's problem with him? Cole stepped forward, about to say something to the redhead, when she spoke first. And....well, it just wasn't her. The voice...Cole didn't pick up the same quirks to the accent that he'd heard from the real redhead. Cole wasn't fooled that easily. A mocking expression crossed his face. "You don't even have the accent right, asswipe! Nice freaking try! Want a hint? Try that trick on an idiot next time!" If he was doomed in this circumstance anyway, he might as well expend all of his efforts on some good insults. He was proud of himself for just a few seconds before "Alice" was gone....and a wall of heads appeared right before him.

"Holy shit," he said under his breath, stepping back. And this must have been some really holy shit, too, not just figuratively. This guy was not human. No human could do this. Cole genuinely thought about throwing himself off the top of the tower when a massive hand smacked him into the ground, leaving him stuck there. In a rushed panic, Cole pulled out his pistol again and got off one shot before the gun arm was inflicted with a searing pain, right around his forearm. Cole reached for the wound before the pain stretched through his whole body, practically paralyzing him as he gritted his teeth against it.

This was it.

He would be dead in no time. Images began flashing in front of his mind, slowly but surely.

Images of home, he thought at first, but he would turn out to be very wrong.