“By the Lorcanthic Legions of Lyropia, what egregious effrontery is this?!” Thyerg’Octolys roared in outrage. One moment, he was entering a new reality plenum, ripe for conquest, and the next, he had found himself imprisoned within some form of transparent-walled containment capsule. Even more galling, his myriad tentacular appendages seemed to be tightly bound by several restraining bands, each twisted into knots of fiendish complexity. Yet, even this was no match for one such as he. With a mighty surge of poly-plenumic power, Octolys burst free from his confinement and took stock of his surroundings. As far as he could perceive, row upon row and level upon level of similar containment pods stretched out before him. Clearly, this was a prison of some sort, though what manner of being might presume to imprison him, the Domiarch of the 94837568th Negaprism, Octolys could scarcely begin to guess. Yet, such ponderings would best be conducted at a later juncture. At the present moment, escape was the foremost priority, something several of his fellow prisoners seemed to agree with as they emerged from their own capsules. Yet, it would not do to move blindly into potentially perilous surroundings. Thus, a scouting operation was called for. However, before he could launch a single biomechanical dark matter fighter, a voice sounded within the depths of Octolys’s mind…

It spoke of an artifact of great power, hidden within the center of this place, this “toy store”. It was a mask that would supposedly grant greatly increased speed and reflexes to whomever donned it. A boon, to be sure, especially for his ponderous cannon crawler, but could the strange voice be trusted? Could this not merely be some form of trap? In all actuality, the mysterious voice’s revelation did little to alter Octolys’s plan. There remained only one real course of action. Thus, employing his tendrils to pull himself to the top level of his prison block, and taking care to avoid the attention of his fellow prisoners who had begun barbarically brawling far below him, Octolys gazed across the multilayered labyrinth and, upon locating the centermost point, prepared to launch a scout fighter to investigate the veracity of the voice’s claim. However, to the eldritch being’s great shock, the fighter seemed utterly incapable of flight, its ultra-advanced dark matter propulsion systems completely inactive. Yet, Thyerg’Octolys would not allow such a setback to deter his plans. Instead, he simply wrapped a tentacular appendage around the craft and flung it at its destination. He only hoped that when it arrived, at least some of the veil of uncertainty surrounding these perplexing circumstances would be lifted…

There are many horrific fates that can befall a sailor, more so a pirate. In addition to the risk of drowning or being eaten by a sea creature, a pirate is also at the mercy of other pirates and their hunters. From Kurosame’s experience, humans could be more cruel than any force of nature. She had heard stories of men placed in wooden boxes and buried where their treasure used to be. While Kurosame was in a box, it was not made out of wood, above ground, and all of her effects appeared to be with her.

Though something was off.

The pirate’s surroundings were not familiar to her. Nor was her body, which seemed to be made out of a hard, wood-like material. Before the absurdity of the situation sunk in, a flood of thoughts entered her mind. Yes, she had agreed to be here. While many of the specifics were left out, she understood this was a free for all and only the winner would get their wish granted, allegedly. Thinking further on her predicament would have to wait until later. Across the aisle she could see someone systematically walking past toys and ending them with a skewer of their tail. There would be no rest here.

Rather than bursting out of the front of her box, Kurosame took hold of her sword and shoved it through the top. She grabbed her hat before climbing out and landing on the edge of the shelf. A quick look around didn’t reveal any immediate threats, so she took stock of her equipment. As she did so, she was starting to understand how her equipment had been altered in this world. Even her blade was a great deal thicker now that it was encased in some crystal composite. It was fine. She had trained with many swords, and just because this wasn’t going to behave like a standard katana didn’t mean she couldn’t use it.

Next order of business was figuring out what had become of her magic. She could feel that she still had it, but she was so… dry. Nothing but air left her lips as she tried to conjure a simple droplet. She would need to hydrate somehow, and the water pelting the glass window let her know how she might do that.

She ran to the edge of the shelf and jumped, soaring across the isle and landing before the window. With a hefty swing, she managed to crack the glass. Part of her would have loved to have smashed right through it, but a simple crack would work for her purposes. She raised her hand to the crack, and the falling rain began to pool over the crack. Then it seeped through, racing down her arm and behind the seam between her face and the back of her head. Before long, the space in her chest would be filled.

In addition to all the curious things going on, a voice told Kurosame of a mask hidden in the center of the toy store. Given how few of the awakening toys were headed in that direction, it seemed safe to assume that it hadn’t been relayed to everyone. Though she couldn’t confirm that it wasn’t a trap of some sort. Maybe another toy had simply whispered such a thing to her, but it wasn't something that could be ignored. If such things existed in the toy store, holding as many as she could would increase her chances for survival.

After pulling as much water through the crack as she dared, she allowed the water to surround her and launch her through the air. She held her breath inside the water droplet as it soared towards Kanohi Kama, unaware of what would be waiting for her.

Some toys are made for entertainment. Some toys are made for edutainment, a dual-purpose physique to allegedly allow kids to have fun while learning.

There sat in a box on the highest shelf of this aisle -- an aisle of misfit toys, it looked like -- an action figure, a hybrid of between the feminist Action Heroine line and the otherwise ideologically benign Full-Mettle series of action figures. The latter was your standard toy line, with the gimmick that its were Full-Mettle™, rather than full-metal of course but they wanted to use the phrase so they turned it into a trademark to avoid lawsuits, the last smart decision they'd ever make. Only the blade, and right arm and elbow, were metal -- stainless steel katana, brass arms with magnets.

The former toy line...

The former was quite the intellectual property. Action Heroine, like Ryuko herself, was both revered and demonized. It garnered media attention for its unique approach to applying feminist concepts to action figures "for boys and tomboys alike". This crossover toy never made it to the shelves, originally. The concept was of a mixed woman ninja assassin named Samantha Carver from Detroit, also a PhD in various STEM fields and a government agent. Suffice to say, the heads behind Action Heroine were among the few willing to make such a profound toy. Not many were ever produced. Few were sold. Plenty of YouTube videos got published demonstrating the figure's unique functionality, and for good reason.

Controversy surrounded this action figure, or "doll" as some would call it, despite being marketed explicitly as an "action figure" for tomboys. Its designers framed it as a robust and progressive new toy with potential self-defense applications. One clandestine handshake and one-night stand, and Full-Mettle gave its full, outstanding support in making this misandrist's dream a reality.

The doll's most distinguishing feature -- it was difficult to even get a patent for, let alone get any factory to agree to produce, to the point they had to simply hand-make what was ironically designed specifically to attack the hands -- the doll's most distinguishing feature, designed to teach a lesson to any boys who happen to be gifted this toy, say, for Christmas, and who were perverted enough to think of sticking their finger up the skirt she wore...

This feature, so aptly, ironically, and idiotically named the Claptrap™, was the brainchild of a certain Susan Deedee Wyatt, who had sought to make "a doll that teaches not to touch the no-no spot".

As expected, many feminists denounced the toy, and the brand, calling Action Heroine "a bunch of faux-minists pushing their agendas". Whether self-described liberal, conservative, or literally anything but that hyper-specific sect of the Far Left -- which was denoted as "the definitive alt-Left" -- almost anyone who considered themselves a feminist by any metrics viewed it as a satirical or self-sabotaging product. The backlash caused many to skew in the other direction, creating a surge in misogyny. Crimes of violence against women rose by 4% in the first month. It was wrested from the hands of young girls, sometimes to be used against them, and public outcry was so problematic that Full-Mettle diverted half of the entirety of their profits in an effort to hire enough lawyers to get seven laws passed or changed, all to protect and distance themselves from this phenomenon. Action Heroine became perhaps the first company ever to be classified as an illegal operation in such a manner. Even conglomerates like Big Pharma, Big Tech, Big What-have-you grew modest and timid in the wake of Samantha "Claptrap" Carver.

On all political, ideological, and moral fronts, this action figure caused destruction and regression like no other could. As the pendulum swung full-force in the other direction, doom was wrought. What were conservatives became "progressives", though distinctly more sexist; What were progressives became "anti-regressives", but even some among them became more misogynist. Witch-burning came back into popularity, much to populists' and populations' combined (and often hypocritical) dismay. Bible-thumpers now actually, literally thumped their bibles, sometimes against the heads of any who might be found owning a Full-Mettle or Action Heroine toy. Time travelers came from the past rather than the future, and they called modern-day humans cavemen and Neanderthals for the chaos that plagued the First World countries. In the year not of our Lord, 2029, former presidents Donald Trump and Joe Biden would fly to North Korea to discuss nuclear annihilation of the human race with Vladimir Putin, the entire Kim family, and then-Emperor of Ukraine-Russia Volodymyr Zelenskyy. God, Buddha, and other deities deemed this timeline the official Bad End and gave instructions in other timelines on how to avoid this fate (one option proposed was to simply eject oneself from the cycle of reincarnation, and, if Judeo-Christian or Islamic, hope to fall into another universe's Wheel of Life).

All this, Ryuko learned upon waking up, and she joined Veronica in a horrific bloodcurdling scream.

Her voice hitched -- she cut it off, shutting her mouth. Hopefully no one would have heard her or would disregard the noise, which had stopped as fast as it had started. She hyperventilated, then forced herself to take slower breaths... then realized she didn't really need to breathe at all. She didn't have lungs, after all.

What she did have, she didn't want to activate at all. She'd only use the blade of her katana in combat, and no other blades.

At least she had pants on... She hoped it covered the Claptrap.

Memories returned; A deal in the backroom of a strange office building in Okinawa, one even the Yakuza dared not go near. Like Ryuko and her family in her own life, this Toyfix© RYUKO TANEGASHIMA™ Full-Mettle™ Action Figure would have to propel the brand to the top of the ladder through surreptitious means: This battle royale.

But why this toy? Why?! she thought. She didn't want to think about all the similarities between her and this toy, which seemed like a parodic knock-off of herself. It was for the sake of that strange man in the backroom, whose features and mannerisms only now registered as distinctly off, inhuman, that this toy must hit the tops of every chart known to (wo)man.

In order to do that, she needed to escape the confines of her package.

She was restrained by form-fitting transparent plastic, but there was enough wiggle-room to contort herself, as she might with her real body, sideways and scrunched up to thrust her fist out at full force. The plastic caved in under her fist. She reached, tore, and stretched a hole in both layers of plastic. Then she was balancing on the edge of a pseudo-industrial shelf.

Now outside the box, she could examine its packaging. Irrespective of similarities, the yellow-dominated print displayed Samantha Carver's image and her name in proud bold outlines. This was her fight, but not her success she was fighting for. To either side stood the actual doll, each in their own boxes. Each was lifeless.

Someone spoke. She turned to face her; It was the other doll that'd been screaming. This "Vero" appeared... weak.

A good first kill.

Ryuko pulled the black cloth up to over her painted-on mouth, then tore the stainless steel katana out with her one hand. A magnet on her back secured it in place -- she needed to, because her right arm, all of her right arms, were severed and locked in the plastic cell she was held in. She was swift and efficient in her retrieval of them. Only one would fit on at once -- she chose the sawblade launcher. It held an actual steel sawblade of bite-sized proportions, though completely blunt, owing to its cartoonish appearance.

She gathered the rest in her arms and descended, shelf-by-shelf, hanging by her legs each time and dropping in a back-flip onto the next, until she was on the floor. I'm going to be needing a paperclip, a key chain, or maybe a wire...

Now grounded, she turned to face Veronica. Her voice was as sultry as ever, but her tone was mocking. "Vero, huh? You don't sound very sure of yourself," Ryuko taunted her; A lie, but only as an insult to attract Veronica's attention. "Let's see what you're truly capable of."

And in case she was capable of much -- Ryuko hadn't enough hubris to disregard the chance of hidden strength -- Ryuko settled into a wide stance with slightly bent knees, like an athlete. She held her spare arms in her right arm, clutched to her chest; She bent forwards, left arm raised to rest a hand on her katana.

He was soaring, riding upon the wind with dark wings spread wide over the rise of a warm up draft lifting him higher and higher until, at last, he felt safely removed from the world down below. The feeling of separation, of being alone with only his animal instincts to guide him had a distinct calming effect on his psyche, like a feline wandering the woods by itself, or an eagle surveying the lakes and fields in search of prey. It was a peace that was prevalent throughout nature, persistent across time, and thrived in the blood and bones of all beasts, whose primitive minds endowed their bodies with the strength and resolve necessary for surviving in the world.

Neither man nor deity could ever hope to emulate this pure state of life, not without sacrificing something in the process.

In the midst of his tranquil flight, he could see the clouds starting to dim, their fluffy whiteness shifting toward off-gray, to full-gray, to pitch-blackness, their vaporous forms stretching away from him as they were sucked into a rapidly opening hole in the sky. The anomaly offered no light for him to see what lurked inside, but it did cast rays of darkness which beckoned all living things to enter its depths, luring them to a place that did naught but provoke primal fear, and a deep hostility that caused the jagged, dark-green scars on his arms to glow in preparation for what was to come. Roaring into the abyss, the he found himself falling victim to the machinations of the entity, swallowed whole as he felt the composition of his insides transmute into a different substance.

Metal replaced bone, battery acid replaced blood, strangely woven fibers took the place of muscle, and though his senses told him he still had organs, they remained only quasi-functional; present and performing their vital functions, yet somehow he knew their destruction would not hinder his capacity to move. All of this he could feel as plastic restraints tied him to the inside of a cardboard container, neck, limbs, and tail pinned with twin apertures for his horns to slide neatly into. The packaging he was contained in was considerably larger than the others, more fit for a small cat than for the plaything he was turned into, his form stripped of the beauty nature had blessed him with, and replaced with parts artificial, able to smell all the foul chemicals used in constructing his monstrous form.

Thoroughly enraged at what had been done to him, at where he was taken from, his body sparked with industrial grade lightning, melting his plastic bonds, jaw opening wide to unleash a second pair that was part of a miniaturized drake skull, punching a hole through his transparent sealing. Evidently, this was not enough to fully free him, for after ripping his way out of one cell, he found himself skull bashing the glass of a sliding cupboard, not knowing he was set up to be featured in the more expensive electronics section. Spotting the lock, the dragon reared back its tail, thrusting the sharply curved, four inch bone between the mechanism keeping him inside, yanking and screeching furiously, claws digging into holes in the shelf grate to give himself better leverage. Finally, the glass began to flex, cracks forming as his anger let him rip the lock free, followed by him flinging it off his tail hard enough to break parts where the panels overlapped, weakening the structure for one last violent charge, ramming his way through the barrier and spraying shards all over the white tiled floor.

The moment he landed outside his prison, the whole electronics section started blaring, bathing the department in a red alarm glow. Although the creature preferred the wild, he had fought in enough civilized environments, places run by man, and alien alike to recognize the sound of impending danger, promptly leaping onto the side of a sales counter, and quickly scaling it to gain a higher vantage point with which to spot any incoming threats. Sprinting across the surface, and knocking over several flyers, and mini-stands for prepaid membership cards, a sudden, loud, penetrating beep startled his ears, setting his armored scales abuzz with blue, crackling bolts.

A semi-large monitor with a smaller, black screen on top lit up in front of him, displaying an electronic poster image of his whole body on a brown background, emitting lightning as he fought what looked to be a combination of decked out super soldiers with high-tech weaponry, and hovering drones showering his body in a hailstorm of bullets that appeared to be curving around the contours of a very powerful electromagnetic shield. Snarling at the image, and the outrageous price of $229.99+tax, he let his jaws part and fired a beam of condensed electricity, pumping the circuits full of energy until the whole thing exploded, screeching and roaring as the electricity drained out of the dying monitor, which displayed the monster’s name.

The Abominable Alucroas!

Unfortunately for Octolys, his perplexity only grew even more pronounced when his scout ship reached its destination. Although it remained mysteriously incapable of independent movement, his mental link with the servitor craft remained completely intact, allowing him to gaze through its ocular nodes to find that it had landed in an area that was mostly free of the hoards of recently escaped inmates that seemed to be in the midst of a chaotic free-for-all throughout the rest of the massive prison. The artifact the mysterious voice had spoken of was nowhere to be seen, although a glow emanating from within the depths of a large pile of confinement cases hinted at its possible location. Yet, further investigation would have to be postponed for the time being as a more immediate threat soon presented itself…

The shattering of glass and a glimpse of movement drew Octolys’s attention to where, a short distance down his confinement block, a small army of green-skinned creatures was climbing up to his topmost level. It only took a second for the Domiarch of the 94837568th Negaprism to identify them. They were Orks, with a “k”, not a “c”, a rather unique kind of green-skinned, fungoid race from a particularly unpleasant universe, indeed. They were good for dumb muscle, Octolys had mused upon first learning of them, but little else, their hypothesized ability to warp reality itself to their crude beliefs brushed off as the superstitions of races with intellects far below the 8¹⁵th level of mentalic ascendancy, such as his own. Yet, these Orks possessed a particular peculiarity that Octolys found most disconcerting. Their feet seemed to be attached to circular plastic “bases”, for lack of a better identifier. This prevented them from using their feet to aid in climbing, or from moving in more than short hops, but, to their credit, they still managed to ascend to the top level and then begin moving towards where Octolys sat with commendable alacrity.

Thus, the dark-matter Domiarch knew that he would need to take swift and decisive action in order to curtail the mounting threat the rapidly approaching green tide posed. With a mighty sweep of a titanic tendril, he sent several dozen tightly packed Orks flying off the the wide lane upon which they traveled to plummet to their certain doom far below. Simultaneously, he disgorged a chitinous cannon crawler, its hunched from lowering to the ground and aiming its cosmic cross-continua hyper-quantum singularity coil cannon at what had to be the Orks’ leader, the so-called “Warboss”. While fearless in large numbers and under the direct command of a strong leader, in small numbers, and bereft of a Warboss’s commanding presence, it was all-too-easy to cause Orks to succumb to a panicked rout, and this was precisely what Octolys’s strategy was intended to induce.

Yet, even as this battle played out, Octolys was still cognizant of events unfolding before the optical nodes of his scout craft. Not only had a strangely garbed woman appeared in the vicinity, but from the pile of confinement cases had emerged a gargantuan gestalt of over two dozen assorted entities, now fused into a singular, titanic abomination, at the heart of which was the glowing artifact he was seeking. This revelation seemed to indicate quite clearly that the knowledge he’d been given was indeed nothing more than a trap, although seeing the sword-wielding young woman engage the amorphous amalgamation in battle promised to provide copious insights into both combatant’s abilities...

She noted the crack in the window, though there was little that could be done about it now. Perhaps if she knew more about the modern world she’d consider tracking down some FLEX SEAL to patch up the crack, though that would require her to care about the damage in the first place. A highly sought after art in her own world was called Kintsugi, which was the art of repairing pottery with gold. The idea was that an object’s imperfections are what give it personality and, thus, made them more attractive. She had no doubt that there would be a lot more “personality” spread about this toy store before she was finished.

During her flight to her destination, she had witnessed several spectacles. It was difficult to take in every brutal fight, as Kurosame very much wanted to anticipate any attacks that might come her way. As convenient as it was to soar above the chaos like this, it did leave one vulnerable. Lightning always strikes the tallest tree in a forest, but whatever stands above the grass in a field. Speaking of being a giant among the grass, there was a rotund octopus sitting before some green folk. It stood out only because of how strange the spectacle was.

Before long, Kurosame landed on the shelf. The water she had rode in took a long cylindrical form behind her back, almost like a serpent floating in the air. It felt good to breathe again. She brought up her sword and looked around for the mask she seeked. She looked into the clear packaging to see if any of them were wearing a mask of any kind, but there did not appear to be a mask present.

Then a voice, but not like the one she had heard before. It was followed by a green glow emerging from the bottom of the shelf. She was no stranger to dealing with Yokai and could instantly tell that this was a strong one. At the very least, it was something that she didn’t want to just wait around for. She kicked one of the boxed toys off the shelf, and growled as a cluster of melted hands coiled around the box and pulled it in.

This was not something she could engage in close quarters combat.

She kicked a second box off the shelf, this time using it as a distraction so that she could swiftly make her exit. She jumped off of the shelf as melted tendrils pulled the second toy in, and Kurosame’s hydro powered “flight” kicked in when her water rushed up beside her and guided her to an even higher shelf on an adjacent side of the isle.

Now it was easy to see what was chasing her. This amalgimation had to be a Gashadokuro, or at least a toy-like version of one. Though this youkai was made out of melted toys instead of bones, it had all the other traits like it’s need to increase its size at any cost. Their primary, if only weakness, was a purifying ward. Kurosame didn’t have access to those, but she did remember what the voice had told her about the mask. If it had the power to grant one great speed and reflexes, than maybe this abomination would be easier to defeat if the mask was removed.

That, and it was what the pirate had come here to plunder.

She cast out her hand, and the water serpent descended on the Gashadokuro. Kurosame was confident that she could wrestle the mask off of the amalgamation's face at this range. Water could become any shape it wanted, and under normal circumstances, she couldn’t see this creature stopping her assault. Though if it did, it would reveal one of its abilities to her, and that had value too she supposed.