/soy/ - Soyjaks

The air in the bunker grew thick and cold, the humming of the servers deepening into a distorted, low-frequency drone. The holograms weren't just flickering with random data anymore; they were now displaying a single, repeating image: a tall, grey-skinned figure in a cheap, electric blue suit, standing in an empty, undefined space.

NATE: ^"Sensors are going insane. A localized reality field is superimposing itself over our own. It's… reading our archived data. The deeper storage. The stuff we scraped from forgotten forums and dead websites."

CHUD: >"What kind of data?"

Nate pulled up a list. It scrolled faster than the eye could follow, but Chud's enhanced perception caught fragments:

…stress-test results for pre-production ZX Spectrum models…

…the complete lineage of the Habsburg family's court jester…

…*acoustic properties of different types of drywall from 1978-1984…*

With each line item processed, the image of the figure on the screen grew slightly more defined, its form seeming to gain density and mass.

GIGACHAD: <"It is not just learning. It is metabolizing. It consumes the obscure, the forgotten, the irrelevant. That knowledge becomes its physical substance. Its power is inversely proportional to the cultural significance of its fuel."

A tremor ran through the bunker. A fine dust sifted from the ceiling. From the corner of the room, where a stack of old, forgotten technical manuals sat, a shadow deepened. The air itself seemed to warp, pulling light and sound into a silent, hungry point.

And then, it stepped out.

^NOPHONO.

It stood nearly eight feet tall, its physique a grotesque mirror of Gigachad's own powerful frame, but devoid of any warmth or life. Its skin was a dull, concrete grey. It wore the suit—a garish, electric blue abomination that was too tight in the shoulders and too short in the sleeves, made of a synthetic material that seemed to absorb the light.

But the face. Where there should have been a chiseled jaw and features, there was only a smooth, uninterrupted plane of flesh. No eyes to threaten, no mouth to scream. It was a void of expression, a perfect mask of absolute, silent indifference.

It did not look at them. It turned its blank head towards the stack of manuals. One of its hands, long-fingered and grey, rose. From its fingertips, long, shadowy tendrils—not of darkness, but of nothingness—unspooled and caressed the books. The pages didn't rustle; they dissolved into streams of raw data, which were siphoned up the tendrils and into the entity's form. As it fed, a faint, static-like aura crackled around its shoulders, and it seemed to stand just a little bit taller, its presence a fraction more solid.

GIGACHAD: (His voice a low, serious hum) <"It is not here to fight us. We are irrelevant. It is here to read our footnotes."

Chud didn't hesitate. He lunged, his fist clad in psychic energy, aiming a blow that could shatter titanium. The punch connected with Nophono's chest.

There was no sound of impact. No grunt of pain. Chud's fist simply… stopped. The energy around it flared and died, its power seemingly unraveled, its principles forgotten. It was like punching a black hole made of pure, concentrated pedantry.

Nophono did not react. It finished consuming the manuals and its blank head slowly turned towards Nate's primary server rack. It took a single, silent, awkward step forward.

CHUD: (Shaking his stinging hand, a look of pure, incandescent rage on his face) >"What is this?! How do you fight something that doesn't care that you're fighting it?!"

GIGACHAD: <"You cannot punch a library into not existing. You can only burn the books. We must find its core—the central thesis of its being in this dimension—and introduce a logical paradox. A piece of information so profoundly, universally significant that its very presence in Nophono's database would cause a catastrophic system error."

Nate's eyes widened, a spark of understanding amidst the terror. "We need to make it care about something everyone cares about. But how? It filters that out!"

GIGACHAD: <"We must bait it. We must create a piece of information that appears, on the surface, to be the most obscure, useless data imaginable. But buried deep within its code must be a memetic virus—a concept of such raw, undeniable, mainstream truth that it cannot be processed without causing a cascade failure."

Chud looked from the advancing, silent horror in the blue suit to the determined face of his super-intelligent ally. The fate of the world, his future Aryan Heaven, everything, now hinged on the most absurd mission imaginable.

CHUD: >"So let me get this straight. To save the world… we have to write the most boring, obscure book in history… and hide a philosophical bomb in it."

GIGACHAD: <He gave a single, sharp nod, the Buzz of his personal Giga-Flies intensifying in response to the challenge.
GIGACHAD: <"Precisely. We must author the one thing that can destroy it. We must write 'Shit Everybody Cares About'… and make it look like shit nobody cares abot."

The plan was insane, but it was all they had. As Nate’s fingers flew across the holographic keyboard, weaving a memetic virus disguised as a treatise on the "Comparative Analysis of Pre-War Yugoslavian Bus Timetable Lamination Techniques," the air in the bunker solidified.

Nophono had finished with the server rack. The machines were now inert husks, their data utterly consumed. The entity turned its blank, horrifying face towards the trio. It had harvested all the readily available obscurity. Now, it sought the source. Them.

It took another step, its movement unnervingly smooth yet utterly wrong, as if it were being animated by stop-motion.

<GIGACHAD: "It has finished its aperitif. It is ready for the main course. Our minds."

Gigachad moved first, a golden blur of optimized motion. He didn't throw a punch; he delivered a perfectly calibrated, open-palm strike aimed to disrupt cellular cohesion, a blow that had felled lesser Viltrumites.

Nophono’s hand—its long, grey fingers—moved faster than sight. It didn't block the strike; it caught Gigachad’s wrist. The moment it made contact, shadowy tendrils of nothingness erupted from its palm, wrapping around Gigachad’s arm. There was no crushing force. Instead, the golden sheen of Gigachad’s skin flickered and died where the tendrils touched, the very concept of his "optimized biology" seemingly negated by a force that found the principles of life to be tediously mainstream. Gigachad grunted, a sound of genuine shock and pain, and was hurled across the room like a discarded toy, smashing through the reinforced concrete wall.

>CHUD: "Fine. Let's try this again!"

Chud roared, unleashing a full-powered blast of his Aryan psychic energy. It was a wave of pure, white-hot ideological certainty, designed to shatter minds and break wills.

It washed over Nophono.

And did nothing.

The entity’s blank face didn't twitch. It simply absorbed the psychic blast, the complex, hate-fueled ideology unraveling into meaningless static against its profound indifference. To Nophono, Chud’s entire worldview was just another boring, well-documented historical footnote. A pop-up book for simpletons.

Nophono then moved to attack. It didn't lunge. It simply appeared in front of Chud, having closed the distance in the space between heartbeats. It was Thragg-level fast, but without the rage. It was a motion of pure, efficient consumption.

A tendril of nothingness lashed out, not at Chud's body, but at his head. Chud barely dodged, the tendril grazing his temple. Instantly, a searing, psychic cold flooded him. It wasn't pain; it was erasure. He felt memories—the specific taste of his mother's cooking, the face of his first childhood friend—become fuzzy, distant, and then simply… gone. Deleted from his mind as irrelevant data. Nophono wasn't trying to kill him; it was trying to format him.

Chud screamed, this time in pure terror, and stumbled back.

From the hole in the wall, Gigachad returned, his usual serene expression replaced by a grimace. His right arm was grey and lifeless, as if all the "Giga" had been drained from it.

<GIGACHAD: "Its power is ontological! It does not break things; it defines them as irrelevant, and they cease to function! We cannot overpower it with force!"

Nophono turned its attention to Nate, who was frantically trying to compile the memetic virus. A tendril shot towards the console. Gigachad intercepted it, taking the blow on his chest. He cried out as the vibrant color of his skin desaturated, his magnificent physique seeming to dim, as if he were being converted from a high-definition image into a grainy, forgotten photograph.

^NATE: "ALMOST THERE! I NEED SECONDS!"

Chud, desperate, did the only thing he could think of. He reached for the one weapon Nophono might not be able to instantly process: raw, chaotic, emotional stupidity. He wasn't trying to win. He was trying to distract.

He charged, not with a psychic blade, but by screaming the most inane, mainstream, low-brow trash talk he could imagine.

>CHUD: "YOUR SUIT LOOKS LIKE IT WAS BOUGHT FROM A WISH.COM FIRE SALE! YOU'RE A SKINWALKER OF A GIGACHAD! YOU'RE CRINGE! YOU'RE NOT EVEN A PROPER VILLAIN, YOU'RE A GLORIFIED LIBRARIAN! L + RATIO + NO BITCHES + YOU FELL OFF!"

For the first time, Nophono paused. Its head tilted a fraction of a degree. The torrent of meaningless, hyper-mainstream insults was like a jarring, off-key note in its symphony of silence. It was data so profoundly lacking in value, so utterly without obscure merit, that it briefly confused the entity's consumption protocols. It was a DDoS attack made of pure, concentrated normie energy.

It was only a second. A single, precious second of hesitation.

But it was enough.

^NATE: "IT'S READY! THE BAIT IS SET!"

A new file flashed on his screen: "yugobus_lamin_standards_final_final(1).txt"

Nophono’s head snapped towards it, its blank visage radiating a palpable hunger. This was a prime specimen, a feast of pure, unadulterated obscurity. It glided past the recovering Gigachad and the shouting Chud, its focus absolute. A shadowy tendril, humming with anticipatory silence, extended and made contact with the server.

The moment it began to consume the file, it froze.

Its smooth, blank face remained unchanged, but its entire body emitted a low-frequency wobble, a visible distortion in the air like a corrupted video file. The garish blue suit flickered erratically. The memetic virus was working. It had bitten into the bait and hit the philosophical poison pill hidden within: the universal, undeniable, and profoundly mainstream concept of "A MOTHER'S LOVE."

For Nophono, this was a cognitive singularity. An obscurity that contained the least obscure thing in the universe was a logical paradox it could not process.

A sound emerged from it for the first time—not a voice, but a high-pitched, tearing static shriek, the sound of a universe of filing cabinets collapsing at once.

<GIGACHAD: (Shouting over the din, his voice strained but triumphant) "The paradox! It has made him tangible! His ontological defense is down! NOW!"

The entity was now physically vulnerable, its power to define things as irrelevant momentarily short-circuited. But it was not weak. It was a cornered, furious beast of pure data. It whirled around, no longer a passive consumer but an active, violent threat.

It lashed out, a tendril catching Chud across the chest. This time, it didn't erase memories; it ripped through his suit and flesh, drawing actual, physical blood. The force was immense, throwing Chud back with a grunt of pain.

Another tendril shot towards Gigachad, who met it with a clenched, now-revitalized fist. The impact was thunderous, a concussive blast of force that shattered the remaining consoles. Gigachad skidded back, his knuckles bleeding—the entity was still as physically powerful as Thragg, its strength undiminished, only its invulnerable nature compromised.

It was a brutal, desperate brawl. Chud and Gigachad fought in tandem, landing blows that cracked its grey skin, their attacks finally having purchase. But Nophono fought back with silent, ferocious strength, its tendrils striking with the force of tectonic plates, its movements a blur of blue suit and grey flesh.

They were hurting it, but they couldn't put it down. And with every passing second, the static shriek was decreasing in pitch. The paradox was stabilizing. Nophono was adapting, slowly purging the offensive, mainstream concept from its system. The tangible solidity of its form began to waver, its edges blurring back into untouchable abstraction.

<GIGACHAD: (His voice a strained grunt as he blocked a blow that numbed his arm) "The corruption fades! Its ontological defense is returning! We are losing our window!"

>CHUD: (Ducking under a tendril that dissolved the wall behind him, his mind racing) "It's a librarian! It wants to file us away! So we give it a filing error it can't recover from!"

Understanding flashed between them. The plan wasn't to destroy it, but to overload its core directive.

Chud roared, focusing his psychic power not as a weapon, but as a jamming signal. He didn't attack Nophono's body; he attacked its process. He began projecting a single, brutally simple, and universally resonant image directly at the entity: the face of his own mother, imbued with the raw, uncomplicated emotion of a child's love.

It was the most potent strain of the "shit everybody cares about" virus, delivered psychically.

Nophono, still grappling with the logical poison in its system, seized up. Its blank face, for the first time, seemed to strain. The flickering of its suit became a violent, strobing seizure of colors. The simple, powerful, and utterly mainstream concept was a catastrophic system error, a paradox that locked its cognitive functions.

It was vulnerable. Not just physically, but conceptually paralyzed.

<GIGACHAD: "ITS PROCESSING IS LOCKED! NOW! WE CONTAIN IT!"

Gigachad moved with ultimate purpose. He didn't try to punch or kick. He used his immense strength for precise, brutal utility. He ripped a massive, reinforced server cabinet from its moorings, the metal screaming in protest.

As Nophono stood frozen, shuddering from the psychic assault, Gigachad slammed the heavy metal cabinet down over the entity like a bell jar, trapping it inside.

>CHUD: "It's not enough! It'll break out!"

<GIGACHAD: "It is a temporary solution. Nate! The data!"

Nate, understanding instantly, rerouted all remaining power. Instead of projecting the memetic virus, he began a system-wide purge. He wasn't just deleting files; he was using high-intensity magnetic scramblers and data-wiping algorithms to erase every single byte of obscure data in the bunker—every forgotten log, every corrupted file, every piece of "shit nobody cares about" that had drawn Nophono here.

The trapped entity thrashed inside its metal prison, the sound a furious, silent vibration. But with its source of power—the ambient obscurity—being systematically erased from the local environment, its strength began to wane. It was a predator being starved.

The metal box shook violently, a dent bulging outward, but Gigachad held it fast, his muscles corded with the effort.

Finally, with a last, weak tremor, the thrashing stopped. The oppressive, silent pressure in the room lifted. When Gigachad cautiously lifted the cabinet, the space beneath was empty. Starved of data and locked in a paradoxical loop, Nophono's physical form had simply… derezzed. Faded back into the static from which it came, no longer able to maintain its coherence in a place that was, for the moment, cleansed of its sustenance.

Chud slumped against a wall, exhausted. Gigachad stood over the empty spot, his breathing heavy.

They hadn't killed it. They had forced a "force quit" on its consciousness. But they all knew the truth: as long as forgotten data existed anywhere in the world, Nophono was just a bookmark away. They had won a battle, not by destroying the monster, but by cleaning their room well enough that it lost interest and left.

For now.

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uphono