DeviousMe

Well, this had certainly gone south fast. And there he'd thought this would be an easyly and quickly executed operation.

Then again, no accounting for Murphy's Law, he supposed. He'd just have to do this the old-fashioned way. Hopefully, things wouldn't deteriorate any more than they already had.

He gave the order...

--------------------

As she crashed through the wall in a gout of dust and debris, Penny very awkwardly entered one of the X plus seven number of abandoned office buildings Paragon seemed to have these days. Light fixtures hung raggedly from the ceiling, the walls were scuffed and grimy, furniture lay overturned all over, and there was no telling what the original color of the carpet had been anymore.

Long story short, her arrival didn't change the decor much.

The place already looked like it had been through a meat grinder, and so Penny's smashing down of a few walls went largely unnoticed by the building itself.

Sadly, not by the Arachnos agents that had been on their way to the roof, their mumbles of how stairs were creations of the devil because the elevators had no power quickly eclipsed by the crashes of Penny Aracade.

"There she is!" yelled the team's Mu Striker at the duo of Wolf Spiders, "Quickly, get her!"

The Arachnos agents stormed forward, the floating Mu finding himself only barely keeping pace with the now very excited Wolf Spiders. This capture could get them a rank, maybe promoted to the Crab Spider division.

"Wait!" the Mu suddenly exclaimed, looking to the ceiling, "Sto..!"

The two men of Arachnos dropped to the floor without warning and from one second to another, as if their entire motoric nervous systems had just shut down. They fell flat on their faces, slumping into bent heaps with limbs of rubber, then remained there, still and motionless.

Not half a second later, the same fate befell the Striker, the Mu mystic suspending his bound hover for a half-slump on a somewhat raggedy bench.

The cause seemed immediate, close, and self-evident.

In a corner of the room stood a man garbed in black, the omnipresent shadows of the abandoned office making it difficult to discern any of his features. He was covered in head to toe, a full mask of cloth draped even over his face, the gloves of his hands, boots of his feet all in the same matte black. The only distinct pieces were the long cloak that hung from his head, running over back and shoulders, and the duster-like hat on top of it all.

No, there was one more thing.

In the glove of his right hand, the man held a pure-white conductor's baton, still outstretched towards the Arachnos operatives as if it was a lethal weapon.

Without a word, he flipped the thing back into his belt, then rushed over to the mound of rubble Penny had ended up in, starting to dig for her with downright robotic tenacity.

There really wasn't much of a plan as of yet - dig Penny out, load her onto his back, and then run like hell.

There was, however, more to this than met the eye, as anyone with any sort of energetic detection means would quickly discover.

Whatever had struck down the Arachnos operatives, it hadn't come from the baton.

It had come from straight above, through the ceiling of this floor and all the ones above...

"Remind it of your lack of defenses without your armor." the fifth guard whispered into Penny's ear, just quietly enough to not be noticed by the others outside, "It is programmed to maintain prisoners to the best of its capability."

The unreal guard kept hoping Penny would follow his advice without response. If she responded directly, the Mark II might well think she'd gone insane.

Then again, that may not have been such a bad idea. The psychiatric ward for the 'normals' was a relatively low-threat zone...

With a heavy heart, I watched as Allen vanished in front of my eyes.

And not just my eyes.

I don't see the world as most do. But then, I don't really see it at all. Sure, I have eyes, but I could rent those out for eternity and not miss them a bit.

My sense of vision is a bit more complex. Where most see an atom in an object, I see not only every little bit, every tiny effort that went into its construction, but also the threads and streams connecting it to all other atoms around it. I smell matter, see energy, feel space, and taste time (for lack of a better analogy), and I have every right to call anyone who believes separate entities actually exist a deluded moron.

It just isn't true. Everyone, everything is connected, and in so many ways it confounds imagination. One act can one day affect all.

As it did now.

The connections to Allen, the very essence that was him, and the threads that linked him to everything else, severed right then and there, replaced only by a dreadful awareness of looming, bottomless void.

And then I felt nothing at all.

Had I known, however, what would happen the very next instant...well, to tell the truth, I'm still not sure what I would've done.

All I knew is that the platform of the fictive transmitter spat out two figures, suddenly and without warning, and that the mechanism had nothing at all to do with any of it.

For a moment, I thought I'd succumbed to a hallucination. The two figures were Ace and Al, dropping to the floor right then and there from their standing positions as if a malignant gnome had knocked them out cold with a really big hammer.

But even as I still contemplated whether I'd finally lost it now, I felt space wane and vanish about the hull of the Gunship, Kerat pushing the vessel into another linear maneuver. I didn't know where to, and I don't think he did either, but for now that didn't matter.

Shaking off my surprise, I bolted forward as my senses confirmed those two were indeed the genuine article. I rolled Ace over onto his back, a little too nervous to use anything but my limbs then, proceeding quickly to grab his shoulders to shake him awake.

I didn't realize he already was.

"Ah! Dude! No! Stop!" he flailed about with arms, legs and tail, trying to push me off him in a very uncoordinated effort. The verbal outburst was probably the most effective, "Claws! No! Vern! Get off me!"

Taken aback, I scrambled to the side and nearly fell over myself, my balance teetering on edge at that point. It took me several seconds to calm back down again, the sudden flood of perceived impressions having nearly overwhelmed me. The ability to feel everything going on around oneself isn't always a good thing, especially when the sensations become strong - and I'd classify a dear friend vanishing into nothing followed by two I'd already thought gone for eternity drop back into being in such a short time as very strong sensations indeed.

With a groan of that familiar stiffness after an arduous day, Ace managed to get half of himself up off the floor, his hands behind him in an effort not to slump back to the ground. His eyes blinked more often than normal as he eyed himself up and down as if making sure everything was where it should be, wiggling his clawed toes to check for feeling in his extremities.

"Okay, which one of yas stole my clothes?" he remarked, "I distinctly remember wearing some last time I checked, and..."

He quieted down suddenly as he noticed that a good bit more was missing - the gashes and cuts he'd taken earlier, not to peak of the gaping hole in his chest I'd been told of.

They were simply gone. He looked exactly like he had the day I'd first laid eyes on him, absolutely nothing out of place.

"Did I...miss something?" he turned to me, my first elicited response being a poor twitch of my shoulders, perhaps even more clueless than him about the whole situation.

"I think we all might have." I finally added to the shrug, looking to the unconscious Al (and this time I was quite sure of that), "Geez, you nearly scared me outta my hide there."

"I think I did." he nodded, looking about as he slowly rose, taking it one leg at a time in a somewhat unsteady and awkward fashion, "Me, that is. Did...I mean, did I really die back there?"

"I don't think so." I told him, finding it somewhat strange that he hadn't asked about Al just lying there. I knew he was just out cold - but did Ace know as well? And if so, how?

"I'm gonna have to think about this." Ace nodded slowly, setting a less and less meandering course for the Drop Bay's other end, "But I need a shower first. Oh, and once we get to the blue supergiant, make sure Kerat doesn't stop too long. There's a Pyramid doing surveys there."

That settled it for me. He knew. Somehow, some way, and currently I couldn't have cared less. If I investigates this too, I'd run my mind over another bottomless pit, I just knew it, and I couldn't stomach that right now. For all it was worth, I could finally believe Ace as back now, and that was good enough for the time being.

But if seeing was believing...

Then what was I seeing...?

((Well, I meant for the mouth to be large enough where he could stand up inside it, but I guess I didn't describe that well enough. This works too. ))

Whether I'd ever understand it was another question.

Kerat disengaged our linear converter as soon as he noticed Vyachslav's echo disappear from the relief screen of the halfspace tracker. The compensation field dispersed in literally no time, not bound by the rules of the 'real' world, and I watched as the stars once more filled the view ahead as only dots of light, space again turning black from the muddy, drab gray it had presented itself through when viewed in a linear maneuver.

"Cloak up, passive sensors only." Kerat ordered not a moment later, his claws reaching around the control sticks at the sides of the pilot seat. Set into the central raised floor of the somewhat semi-circular bridge, it formed the rough midst of the flight deck, the pilot able to keep an overview of everything that went on around him at all times. Holographic screens and consoles complemented the transparent bridge windows, showing angles out of view through the armortroplon.

It was a very familiar sight.

The sphere of naught, the hole in the universe, the region devoid of anything at all that had once been a heavily populated planet with a highly developed civilization.

We'd returned to the scene of the crime - and I couldn't help but feel somehow responsible.

Allen, don't go there.

The soundless warning startled me, shaking me from my thoughts. Vyachslav was right, of course, but sometimes having a conscience could a real pain.

"I'm giving us seven minutes, tops." Kerat broke the hovering silence, his eyes flitting across the myriad of contact emissions all over the readouts. There were several hundred ships in the system, and though not all were potentially hostile, as soon as one got close enough, the icecap was out of the bag. The only thing that moved faster than the speed of light was gossip, and the rumors that surrounded our connection with the phenomenon had probably spread throughout the galaxy at this point.

"Right." I nodded in acknowledgement, stepping to the window gallery, "Big V, you said you had a plan?"

More of a feeling, really. I can't explain it. I just know this wasn't over the way we left it. There's a piece missing.

"Can't say I disagree." Vern added, turning to me, "Al, before he...vanished, Ace said there was something wrong, right?"

I gave a nod.

"Okay, so we know for a fact something unexpected happened." he continued, throwing a glance at the region of darkness that even eclipsed the black of space, "I'd say that there qualifies. Very similar to how we found Ace in the first place."

"Except about a trillion times smaller." Kerat interjected, following with a sigh, "We barely figured out how to move him last time. How the hell are we supposed to now?"

"Not sure yet." retorted Vern, his tail performing a thoughtful coil in the air, "I can't wrap my mind around it, so that rules me out - and I'd doubt tractor beams would have any effect whatsoever."

"There's a given." I huffed with a cold smirk, closing my eyes for a moment to focus better. And suddenly, I knew what to do, adding "We know Ace turned into a person after he got a hold of Kerat last time..."

"I don't like where this is going." the Khelari enunciated his diverging opinion, eyeing me suspiciously, "If you think I'm..."

"No." I declared calmly, taking a step forward, "I'll be going. You fire up the fictive transmitter."

"Like hell I will!" he shot up from the chair, letting the ship take over, "I know the news is all politics these days, but that doesn't mean listening is a bad idea. Everything that's gone in there went poof. Gone. Done for, and without a trace."

"That doesn't mean destroyed." I countered with a dismissive wave of my hand, "Remember what they used to say about wormholes? That they tear stuff apart? And then, lo and behold, someone discovered..."

"Actually, it does." Vern stopped the argument cold with his interjection. He looked directly at me now, and I could practically feel the conviction in his eyes. He didn't just believe - he knew.

"I'm sorry." I told him, my hands balling into fists, "I know you feel what you feel. But I have to go with what I feel is right here."

I didn't wait for his reply. I already knew what it would be. He felt that now it was me whose emotions had gotten the better of him, and he'd try to stop me like I'd done with him.

I needed help.

Luckily, there was one who shared my point of view.

The cacophony of the detection alert blared through the whole ship as Vyachslav disengaged his cloak, active scanner waves instantly pouring at him from all directions, the large being now a clear echo on their screens.

Kerat swore colorfully as his back hit the pilot seat, his claws gunning the ship ahead and to the side, opening hangar door already prepared to swallow up Vyachslav as Vern's invisible hands reached out to pull him in.

But he wasn't having it.

And I used my chance.

Bolting astern and out of the bridge, I stormed down the central corridor as quickly as my feet would take me.

I can't keep him off me for long. Hurry!

At that moment, I didn't know if I could ever repay Big V for this. I just hoped I'd have the chance. For all I knew, Vern could be completely correct. I couldn't blame the guy for trying to stop me - he probably thought I'd gone into depression and wanted to die now.

But I just couldn't believe that, couldn't accept that what I was feeling now wasn't true. I listened to my heart over my head far too little, but right then my head could've been playing death metal and I wouldn't have cared.

I knew. Somehow, some way, I just knew.

I reached the starboard Drop Bay in less than forty seconds, rushing to the other end of the long, narrow room that resembled an inverse trapezoid. The slanted walls contained stacks of numbered metal re-entry pods, each of the crate-shaped things containing a mechanoid just waiting for deployment. I only hoped nobody got the bright idea to activate them.

Fat chance.

Clicks and clacks spurred me on my way even faster than before, up the small ramp that connected the raised floor of the fictive transmitter's control systems with the hatch-perforated bottom of the Drop Bay.

The transmitter was truly a sight. Spherical and free-floating in its energetic restraints, the globe of more than two meters in diameter hovered silently in the air, the single large lens staring down at me like an oversized eye, the surrounding iris an iridescent rainbow.

"Al!" came a shout that froze the blood in my veins firm, my hand snapping to stop just millimeters from the holographic control panel.

I turned to look at the source, knowing already what awaited me - the sight of Vern at the other end of the Bay, a heavy paralyzer floating in the air on each side of him. Stepping forward slowly and cautiously, the Krayten gradually let the robots that had emerged from their containers join him, the glimmering barrels of their weapons aimed squarely in my direction.

"Don't do it." he told me sternly, "Please. I've already lost one friend today. I don't want to lose another."

"Then I need you to trust me." I answered with confidence, though I didn't quite know why, "I'm planning on coming back. But I need to do this. And you know it."

I didn't wait for his reply. I didn't know whether he'd let me go or not, but I had to try.

With that, my hand depressed the contact, and the transmitter hummed to life. A mere instant later, it performed its function, tearing my body apart into is fundamental components and hurling them towards the intended destination: the location it had taken directly from my mind.

Vern hadn't tried to stop me. If he had wanted to, I never would have succeeded.

But I did.

He'd let me go.

Now I knew...

Hmmm...it could be:

a) lack of a partner of the opposite sex

b) a sense that allows being attracted to pixels on a screen

c) an eroneous understanding that video game = life

You might be missing any or all of these. Personally, I consider that a good thing.

((No worries, just take your time. It's a collection of text pages, so not like it's going anywhere. ))

The door of the interrogation room stayed open for now - it was much safer to post two guards across the hall with a full view of the prisoner, as well as another on each side of the door in case she really did try something.

"One more check." the very out-of-place fifth guard told the others as he stepped into the chamber, "Gotta make sure she don't got anything on her that could mess with ol' Gray."

The others nodded, allowing the man to proceed. While the Mark II's credentials were awe-inspiring, and its service record spotless, the guards had learned from the arena that this woman was an avid technologist - and they didn't want to take the chance of her posing a threat to a machine that made their job a whole lot easier. After all, that was all the Mark II was to them.

"Shh." the fifth guard put a finger to his lips as he entered the room, the visor of his cap casting a dense shadow over half his face, rendering his eyes unseen. He whispered, "They will be sending the machine. Do not acknowledge my presence, or it might well think you've lost your mind. It will not see me. Only you can."

"She's clean." he then said loudly to the guards outside, making sure to position himself in such a way that it very much looked like he'd searched her. If any contact had been made, however, Penny would notice a very disturbing fact.

She passed straight through the man, as if he wasn't even there. He might as well have been thin air, for he certainly felt like it...

APOCAPLYPSE Construction Site
Undisclosed Location
Present Day...

My pace was quick, my step secure.

The window gallery passed me swiftly, the many parts of the gargantuan scaffold taking up most of the view. Only every now and then, the faint twinkle of a star managed to make its way through the hundreds of floodlights on the structure's interior.

I stopped to watch the work. It gave me a few moments of peace. Like pieces of a puzzle, skyscraper-sized modules drifted through the vacuum of space, guided securely into place by invisible assembly mechanisms. Work was always progressing, always in motion, the supply lines of the Cosmic Factory copies floating a few kilometers off the main scaffold constantly sending the assembly work new parts.

"Hey." I heard a voice behind me, taking a breath a little deeper than my last, my ears clearly conveying to me the clack of claws upon the floor plates.

"Hey." I responded solemnly, not taking my eyes off the assembly process. I couldn't see the whole thing from here - it was just too large, and even at a few hundred meters distance, the gargantuan construction effort took up the entire view - but it gave me an excuse not to look at Vern right then.

I just couldn't do it right now. People always say we Necrians are cold-blooded killers. That we're devoid of emotion because of the harsh nature of our world - cold, dark, and filled with unforgiving cruelty for anyone trying to carve out survival on its barren surface.

Sometimes, I wanted it to be true. I felt like my insides had been shredded. I felt empty, misplaced, like a part of me had suddenly gone astray, vanished, never to return. I felt a void, a vacant spot, and it was a downright ghastly sensation.

"So..." Vern started as he climbed up onto the sill of the gallery, placing his forelimbs upon it to steady himself, "I hear you shot a holoscreen."

"Yeah." was my only answer. I didn't quite know what else to say.

"Look," the Krayten sighed, turning to me, "I wanted to apologize for earlier. I just...lost it. I didn't think, and..."

The dry smile playing around my fangs gave him pause as he noticed it. It was the kind of smirk one can use only as a mask, to cover up wrenching despair - and he was no stranger to it.

"You want to apologize?" I huffed, putting my fist against the gallery, leaning my head against the armortroplon as I closed my eyes, "No, Vern - I should be doing the apologizing here. I should be pleading your forgiveness. But...I can't even forgive myself. I messed up. Big-time. I killed him twice, you know. First when I let him get shot, and then when I ran instead of trying to help."

A few seconds of silence passed. I felt the subtle vibrations of a gargantuan module passing by outside, the metallic construct gliding on rails of directed energy, gravitic radiance jittering the space around it.

"No, I don't think so." Vern then argued. He'd read my report, knew every event that had transpired in that execution chamber, "There was no way you could've seen the shot coming. Take it from me. I know what I'm talking about. And let me ask you this - if you hadn't run, what would you have done?"

I had no answer.

"I'll tell you - die. You would've died, just like everyone else. Or worse. Can you even imagine being completely nullified? Because I can. I felt it. Over and over again. And it was the most petrifying thing I've ever felt. I nearly threw up. I was that scared."

"But you went back." I turned to him, "You faced your fear. I...I ran from it. I'm a Clan elder, dammit, I'm not supposed to run from my fears!"

"I don't think you did." Vern dropped to the floor again, "I know you too well. You went for the larger picture. You thought of the after. I only thought of the now, of saving one. You went for more. And Al...if you hadn't run, they wouldn't be more anymore. They'd be nothing. You did all you could. Gave it your all. That's all that matters. Remember what Ace always said?"

I nodded, now with a genuine smile, looking out at the twinkling stars between the assembly floodlights, "Yeah. Get as many as you can..."

"...because you can't save them all." the Krayten completed the sentence.

I took a deep breath, "Thanks. I do feel a little better now. I guess..."

"Sometimes this old wolf just gets silly?"

"Watch it, buster." I grinned with a chuckle, "I'm not that old. Yet."

"Blessed be the believers." Vern retorted in a smirk, stepping beside me as I walked on, "How's Big M holding up?"

"Stable." I stated, "He's still out cold, though, and I'm not expecting that to change for a while, even with the PRE transfer. He got shot up pretty bad."

"I saw. How's his brother taking it?"

"Oh, I think he's doing better than any of us right now. Might be in denial, though, I'm not sure. Doesn't help that I know squat about their psychology. All he said after the debriefing was 'that's good', and then went to meditate. Haven't seen him since."

"Hm, that does sound kind of odd. I take it he asked not to be disturbed?"

"Verily." I nodded, "I think he's beating down the shock, myself. Probably got hit with every last thought of every last person on that planet when they bit it. I can't even imagine what that feels like."

I didn't know how wrong I was.

But that I was wrong, this I found out quickly, as at that moment Vyachslav's soundless voice echoed through the hallway.

All of you, on a ship, now! We're going after Ace. No, I don't have time to explain. I'll send coordinates as soon as I know where I'm going.

Vern and I looked at one another for a moment, making sure by the baffled expression on the other's face that this hadn't just been our respective imagination.

"Well, you heard him." I motioned to run, and we took off down the corridor to the Gunship AGS-3. I slipped a transmitter from a pocket in my uniform, "Kerat, we're taking the 3! Run things up and get her ready to go linear!"

"Way ahead of ya." came the reply, "Any idea where we're going?"

"No duh." I commented as the airlock hissed open in front of me, the connection to the Gunship brightly illuminated in my view, "Of course I do - where the trail leads..."

I barely heard my claws clack upon the floor plates as I ran, most of my concentration focused on the sudden sensation of disappearance. The corridors were too narrow for my wings in most places, and the interference charge that moron had hit me with still hadn't quite work off.

I couldn't wrap my mind around this awful feeling. That sensation, devoid of everything, as if a great gout of naught had just spilled into the material world, deluging all in its wake. I'd felt it before, long ago, and the haunting memories now came flooding back.

No!

I lashed out at the ghouls long gone, batting them back and away from the present. This was neither the time nor the place.

Not only that - I had to be sure.

I didn't know it yet, but a moment later, I would be.

Allen suddenly stormed out of a side corridor directly ahead of me, the soles of his armored feet skidding dissonantly on the metal of the floor as the Necrian used his left fist as a fulcrum to achieve a closer rotation.

Before I knew it, that same arm had slammed into me and locked itself around my midst, Allen snatching me up from the floor like a log, then taking off again down the way I'd come.

"Al!" I burst out, trying and failing to wrench myself out of his grip, "What's gotten into you?! What in blazes are you running...?!"

My question was left unfinished, but not unanswered. From the hallway the Necrian had shot from now sped what could only be described as strings - lines like that of a pencil, drawn into the fabric of the universe, so black they looked as if they represented a hole in space, devoid of it all.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. They felt like that too.

I felt nothing.

The lines lashed themselves against anything they could find; wall plates, wiring, supports, pipes, anything at all in their reach, making contact faster than even I could keep track of - and considering I was able to differentiate the movements of individual photons, that was saying something.

Then they pulled, suddenly and without warning, snatching their prey back to whence they came, and I felt it all disappear, vanish into nothing as sheer void replaced whatever the lines got a hold of.

It was a horrid sensation, a hollow and utterly empty feeling beyond description, and a pit so deep formed in my stomach that for a moment I'd thought they'd gotten a hold of me as well.

But despite the dread, I knew one thing for sure now. This was the very same as all those years ago. And while I never understood how, this was still my friend, was still Ace. Accuse me of being overtaken by emotions, but this I knew this beyond a doubt, could feel it to be fact.

Allen, however, didn't seem to agree with me.

"All units to fallback positions!" I heard his voice from the communications device in my collar, "We're pulling out! I repeat: we're pulling out! Leave everything and just get the hell out!"

I didn't want to believe what I'd just heard. He knew as well! It had been one of the first things we'd told him about Ace! Had the world flipped upside-down while I'd blinked?!

"Let go of me!" I demanded, attempting to yank myself free, but again to no avail, "That's Ace! We have to...!"

"I know!" he cut me off with such speed he had to have seen my protest coming, "I saw it! I saw him turn into it! He told me to run - told us all to run! And I don't know about you, but last I checked, not only was he still my commanding officer, but a friend I'd trust with my life! If he says we run, we run! End of discussion!"

My lips hung open, but not a sound emerged. He wasn't willing to quarrel, nor did I have anything to back up an argument of my own. Those lines scared the tar out of me, just their blatant emptiness making my senses revolt, a sensation of sickness almost overcoming me.

I had nothing to stop them. Neither did anyone else, and I knew it.

We knew it.

So I shut up.

And Allen ran.

Behind us, the corridor vanished into oblivion piece by piece, the lines deconstructing the very fabric of the cosmos and leaving absolutely nothing in their wake. They worked with fearsome speed, and seemed to have no care for anything that could be considered a solid obstacle.

They reached right through walls and floors, latching onto whatever caught their fancy, then ripped that back into and through what had opposed them in mere instants, the solid material only then giving way. It was as if the lines could choose when to have substance or not, be selective about their prey, and had utterly all the time in the world due to their near-instantaneous pace.

I had a feeling the things themselves had no regard for time, as I couldn’t feel any in nor around them, just paying me the courtesy of actual motion in time because the things they snatched were still a part of our world.

At least until they faded away to nothing.

I hated to admit it, even to myself, calling my own person traitor for abandoning a friend, but I felt such relief when we finally emerged outside on a glider platform. The construct sat attached to the side of the tower-like structure we’d invaded, a concave cone stretching high into the sky like a needle, platforms and extensions jutting from the building like fungi from a tree.

The once snow-white exterior had been charred in numerous places, the smoke of fires coating the walls in streaks of drab gray. There were a good many holes, too - one of them being the former blast door to this very platform.

More than a hundred meters above ground, the glider platform allowed us a view of the surrounding structures, concave, needle-like cones all of them, a good many already being devoured by the lines shooting from 'our' building with no regard for what got in their way.

Even more frightening was the inky hemisphere that said building now stood in. Against all logic, reason, or possibility, the tower we stood on rested in a hueless dome of blackest black, a perfect hole in existence where I felt not a thing at all.

"I'll take it from here." I stated, already sensing an approaching Dropship in the distance, and Allen relented, releasing his grip to allow me to spread my wings. He expected me to fly ahead, and I knew this, the Necrian to follow shortly.

Now I reprimand myself for my actions then - but at that moment, my emotions got the better of me.

I bolted away like a coiled spring, shooting back to the hole in the door with but the desire to somehow get my friend out of there.

It was not to be.

Before I even knew it, a line shot forth from the wall ahead, wrapping itself about my left forelimb, then yanked me onward with ludicrous force.

Only to send me smashing headfirst into said wall.

I faintly perceived curses behind me, probably from Allen. As I felt his armored hands make contact with my hide, my world already sank away into nothing but a muddy collection of shadows.

I felt nothing…

((Maybe. Hotaka's story won't make any sense without most of the people controlling the dragon-themed characters posting, and Acid's won't without a LMOUSVEV attack - one front's diminished, the other got nuked. ))

Obviously annoyed that his cloak had been cut, Acid didn't reply, instead fiddling with the thing to try and properly cover himself again despite the large gash. Apparently, he had something to hide.

Hotaka, however, seemed to have no such concerns, confronting Kanata and crossing his arms, "First of all, I have invaded nothing. We knocked, no one answered the door, so we let ourselves in. Last time I recall that counting as an invasion was during the Heiji War or something. Sheesh, was that ever stupid. Oh, and look, here comes another numbskull with a dragon symbol charging at us. It's like every kid who thinks they're tough automatically gets one of those. And don't even get me started on the names."

"Oh, would you drop it already?" Acid sighed, "Your name's Mountain Dragon, and the Arachnos database lists you as Dragon of Decay."

"Those names were given to me." Hotaka argued, "I did not choose them myself..."

((Negative, Khell has cancelled the LMOUSVEV attack. ))

Standing on the left, the cloaked figure who'd identified himself as Acid was the contacy point of the naginata. The blade tore into the folds of the cloak with terrifying ease, slicing through the drab, gray fabric with what seemed no opposition at all.

Until it ground to a sudden halt. If Kanata could feel the texture of the surface he'd struck through the naginata's pole, the blade had clearly come into contact with something that had flexed, but not yielded, and carried a rough, uneven pattern.

"Well, what wasn't quite the response I expected." Acid commented, his head turning to the side a bit, "My dear friend, would you mind not poking me with sharp sticks? It is highly unpleasant."

"I should've expected as much." Hotaka practically spat, "Very well, don't bother to show us the way out. We're leaving..."

When one takes the scene of a shot friend robbed of strength, slumping to the floor in front of one, the actions of rushing to his aid and preempting the impact with a catch by one's arms is thought to be synonymous.

In fiction.

I found my waking mind petrified, grappling with disbelief as it tried to process what had just transpired. My arm came up by mere reflex, an instinctive reaction without any conscious thought. Neither the thunderous roar of the impulse beam, nor the choke of death upon the assassin of my friend fully registered.

I watched the scene detached, as if light-years away, playing itself out before me, unable to take any willful action. The tattered, bloody remains of the half-vaporized guardsman jittered spasmodically to the floor, the still-active muscles twitching viciously under the spontaneous, conflicting signals of his dying nervous system.

Acid dropped to his knees as his gaze of horror drilled into my being, looking first to his blood-covered fingers, then to the crimson-rimmed hole in his torso. As his kneecaps made contact with the ground, momentum carrying his body over and ahead, the seeking stare went to me for a moment, before the rest of him struck the floor as well.

I still stared in disbelief, my mind in the clutches of denial, refusing to accept the images my eyes were bombarding me with.

This couldn't be how it would end. It just couldn't. The Concile had tried so many times, tried and failed with schemes more sinister and elaborate that most people could even imagine. And now a pistol had succeeded where the stars themselves had not, wielded by a coward of a soldier who'd rather execute helpless victims than fight the enemy come gunning into this building?

I just couldn't believe it. What sort of divine being would condone this irony? Had the universe gone mad? Or was it but I who'd lost it?

It certainly felt that way.

A sudden, gargled cough ripped me from my dismal thoughts, clutching at my waking mind and tearing it back with speed, even as my body rushed down to my stricken friend, my hands quickly rolling his form onto his back in the hopes that hadn't been just wishful thinking.

I was at once elated as well as mortified to find life still within the yellow, reptilian eyes - for their blank stare conveyed a horror of things to come I'd hardly ever come across. Acid's life was fleeting, and we both knew it.

"Al..." came a whisper over crimson teeth and bloodstained lips, his eyes not even making contact. I doubted he could even still see, "I'm...I'm scared..."

"Don't worry." I lied. It was the only thing I could think of, "You're gonna be okay. I'll get you out, and..."

A haphazard chuckle combined with a cough and a minute smirk in response, "What happens...to people like me...?"

I only stared in silence. I had no reply. More than a few had taken their last breaths in my arms, but them I could at least comfort with faith, with belief their soul would continue even after their living body had ceased to be.

But what did you tell someone whom you knew to have no soul? Who'd been called a monster and an abomination, so radically different from the norm that all old logic simply broke down, that faith meant less than a speck of cosmic dust?

"Nature doesn't waste." I found myself saying, though I wasn't sure why, "I can't believe you would be. It'll be alright. Somehow. Somehow, it'll..."

I never finished that sentence. Without warning, Acid's body suddenly arched backward with energy I knew for a fact it shouldn't have had anymore, the claws of his hand gripping my wrist with downright ridiculous force.

But my attention was focused elsewhere.

In his eyes.

His eyes were clear as day, staring into mine with a gaze plagued by fear and despair, horror at the unknown too alien to grasp.

"Al..." he whispered in shock, his voice a deathly tone filled with terror, "Something...something's wrong..."

"No duh." my teeth clenched, "You've been shot. There's a hole through you these size of my arm. Now you hang on, I'm getting..."

"No." he still whispered, but no longer in a stutter, "Get away. Get away. I don't know...something...it hurts..."

He arced in a spasm again, as if under some sort of electric shock, and I didn't even need to hear his cry of suffering. The blank stare in his eyes told all.

I watched in horror as the crimson blood turned pitch-black, a shade darker than I'd ever seen. Before I even knew it, the hand around my wrist flung me away like a rag doll, and I could see the formerly deep-green hide char into the same shadeless hue before my friend's flesh literally began to liquefy, appearing to melt off his very bones.

The process took hold of him in his entirety now, and even as the gleaming eyes were consumed, their terrified stare wouldn't leave my gaze, burned into my mind as a haunt that would not depart.

Then something pounded into my head with a vengeance, tearing my mind from its rightful place and animating my body, driving me to scramble up. I fought to stay, to drive away whatever had to have taken both Acid and me, but as my reptilian friend's bones blackened as well, only to merge with the same shadeless liquid, my survival instinct thrashed to the aid of the presence, commanding my body up without relent, my legs to move with no care other than to escape...

"Guilty!"

My eyes narrowed at the Announcer presiding over the assembly on his grand pedestal. For as long as I'd known this man, the only things I recall ever feeling for him were detest and disgust. I really don't know what I would've given to walk up right now and land a solid punch right in the middle of his night-black face. There he had all this power - and he used it only to gain more.

Pathetic.

"The sentence is death by firing squad." Taahk spread his hands to enunciate his verdict, "The execution is to commence immediately. May the Creator have mercy on your soul, Acid Zero."

I growled as strong hands wrapped around my arms, the present guardsmen taking no chance as they detached me from the chair of the accused.

I grinned viciously as a sudden, momentary tremor interrupted their procedure of shackling my limbs for transport. It wasn't strong, but it could be felt. I saw the fear run rampant in their faces as they walked me out of the courtroom.

My friends were coming.

And they knew it, dreading every second that ticked by.

Then again, so did I.

Announcer Taahk had chosen a curious selection of words there. I knew I wasn't normal, that I didn't quite fit the definition of a living thing. I'd been told many a time that though my body was certainly alive, I was but an empty shell, a soulless vessel devoid of any true life.

I'd often asked myself the question what I was then. That if I was dead, why did I not lie still? From all I'd come to experience, the dead usually aren't a very lively bunch.

But if I was not dead, if I had no soul, then what was animating me? What was I? And better yet, what would happen to what I was, the something that wasn't a soul yet certainly felt like me, when I did die?

Would I just disappear, simply cease to exist? My being usurped by the order that declared the dead should lie still?

Such thoughts haunted me whenever I had nothing to do, whenever I got a little time to think. I didn't like having time to think - it only brought up a sense of dread.

I was afraid. Afraid of what death meant for me, a meaning that had to be so very different from what it meant to anyone else. Death of the dead, the end of something not alive - what would it be?

"Ah, the infamous Acid Zero." chuckled the headman of the firing squad as we passed into the execution chamber, "I never thought I would receive the honor of disposing of you. It may just be mopping up, but it will certainly not feel so."

He was right, in a way. My bloodstained garments told the tale explicitly - and they were no testament to how I really felt.

"Oh, and your friends won't be coming." he laughed barbarously, drinking in the moment, "Thanks to a twist of fate, we knew where to strike at their main force. They are being exterminated as we speak. Do you see, Mr. Zero? It is fate that the Concile shall rule, now and forever - and you cannot defy fate, no matter how you might try."

"I don't believe in fate." I spat back in a snarl as they led me to the wall, scorch marks and streaks of dried blood still visible from the last execution.

Now genuine fear crept into my being. There it was: death, staring me in the face, grinning its demented grin in the form of a dozen glimmering thermocannons. It taunted me, laughed at me, as if to say, "The chase is over, my dear friend. I win. I always win, in the end."

No.

I wasn't giving up just yet. Someone very wise once told me that things weren't over until one stopped fighting - and damn it all to hell if I was the one to go silently into the night here! If they wanted me to vanish, they'd have to work for it!

I didn't even wait for the famous last words, deciding that if I didn't act now, I might as well never.

Pain surged from my hand and up my arm as I willfully dislocated every bone in my palm, every connection in my wrist, forcing that part of my skeleton to conform to my whim no matter how loudly it protested.

I barely felt my hand slipping from its restraints, focusing vicariously on cutting off the nerves of my arm from my conscious being, batting back the signals of pain and torment my arm screamed into my mind.

Acting almost purely on instinct, I thrust my hand ahead at the back of the guard I knew to be there, my claws making contact with something firm and elastic, turning warm and moist just a moment later. Right then I didn't even realize I'd cut almost completely through my captor, his blood running slickly down the hide of my hand as a convulsion of pain and bodily shock overtook him.

He wanted to slump to the ground, and I could feel gravity's tug wishing to fulfill that desire. But if he did, this would be over before it began, and I knew it.

Wrenching the stricken about, maintaining my grip on his innards, his very bones between my claws, I snapped my tail from its restraints next, the vertebrae of my elongated spine howling up in vicious protest as I drove them past limits I no longer cared for.

All feeling seemed to evaporate, no sensation reaching me any longer, even as I freed my other hand, trusting my survival completely to cold, logical thought masterminding unrelenting instinct.

I heard barked orders and screams of pain and shock, then the raucous roar of thermocannon fire gone astray. My once more freed limbs shot towards whatever was in reach in a desperate attempt to protect myself.

As the pain ebbed away in what I felt had taken an eternity, though only fractal bits of time must have passed, my conscious mind returned to its rightful place, once more absorbing instinct, left in charge as pain nearly drove me mad.

The situation was quickly assessed, and in my favor. I remembered a leg in the coils of my tail, wasting no time in hurling the guard attached to it at the befuddled firing squad, bowling them over like so many cinders in a volcanic storm.

That bought me a few moments, and I opted not to waste them, throwing the guard dangling on my hand into the headman, who'd bolted to the side and drawn a pistol. The two rammed together with a vengeance, turning into a tumbling, bloody knot of twisted arms and legs.

Vaulting away and over the short wall of the presently empty witness lounge, my fingers quickly found the proper contacts for the security barrier, though every clack of my claws upon the console seemed minutes apart. Already, I could see the firing squad recovering. My respite would be brief at best.

With an energetic hum, the barrier systems came online, a field of force shooting up vertically from the console to separate the lounge from the execution area.

Sadly, there still sat a door at each side, and already my adversaries gunned for those, preparing to tear hem open and turn me into a smoldering pile of ashes.

It was not to be.

The gate I'd walked through suddenly buckled inward under some titanic force, then blasted itself into the room as a projectile, propelled by a gout of smoke and flame, and trailing a cacophony of thunder that not even its impact on the far wall could eclipse.

My smile returned as the cause stepped into the room. The figure coated from head to toe in powered armor of supremely black luster was well known to me.

"Al!" I found myself exclaiming happily and without restraint, the wolflike visage under the reflective visor nowhere near invisible to my eyes. Though black and distorted through the reflection, I'd recognize my Necrian friend anywhere, the color of his soft gray fur and deep-green eyes jumping into my perception in but a moment's notice.

Only then did I notice he was alone - and it all came together.

Glass Dagger.

What the headman had told me was true. But there had been no such thing as a main force, only a lightning-quick thrust into the heart of the enemy, a stab of a dagger that shattered no sooner than it met any sort of resistance. Now every single shard, sharp as a serpent’s tooth, pierced into the enemy to carve him to pieces from the inside.

The Necrians had dispersed into one-man units, crashing the Concile forces into utter chaos if they stayed together, and complete tactical inadequacy if they split up to mimic the move.

The Glass Dagger had struck - and it had lodged deeply.

"Nice to see ya." I nodded in greeting with a smirk, "Let's get going before..."

A sound of thunder overpowered my words. In an instant, but only for such an instant, the pain returned.

Then a sensation of cold gripped my being. I watched in horror as Allen's eyes went wide, the cannon that formed his suit's right arm roaring a beam away in my direction, slicing through the air beside me. The stocking gurgle of death echoed from behind.

My hand reached to my chest, though I realized it was fairly useless to confirm what was there. I already knew.

From the look on Allen's face, so did he.

The blood on my fingers was fresh and warm, the hole running through me from back to front not letting a doubt that it was indeed my own.

But all I could feel was cold.

Even as the floor came up to greet me, and I knew I should've felt impact.

All I felt was cold...

A set of great, predatory teeth suddenly appeared in front of Harlequin Fear, the carnivorous maw reeking of the horrid stench of death and decay.

Before he knew it, the jaws rushed about him and snapped shut on the man with a great crash, the damp, sticky, altogether poisonous atmosphere filling every single one of his senses.

Then it all vanished, just as quickly as it had appeared.

Had it been no more than an illusion...?

((Indeed, Hotaka is sitting back in the cell in solemn meditation.))

((Oh no, you misunderstood - I can still see his responses just fine. I just don't want to bother replying to them since a) he can't see my replies anyway while he's ignoring me, and b) I really don't feel like playing with a person like him now that he's shown me what he's really like.))

The last guard to join the formation gave a momentary pause as he saw the Mark 2 approach. This was definitely not good.

He just hoped none of the other guards decided to try and talk to him right then (which seemed unlikely, seeing how busy they were with Penny), as the mechanoid would certainly take notice of an odd fact if one did.

Because to the lenses of the Mark 2 and its drones, that guard would be seen talking to nothing but thin air...

While I know you will not see this, I do hope other people will and it will help them from falling victim to the same stunt you pulled on me. Force Bubble is not godmoding, and I hope your reaction to my character's use of it will show people your true colors.

Hmm, this could lead to a troublesome end if I'm not watchful now. Perhaps things should be a bit more solid around here.

Only those with a keen eye for detail would notice, but there suddenly stood a guard in the hallway that quite probably hadn't been there before.

The man looked over his hands, as if to make sure all his fingers were there, then gave a smirk and started walking, throwing one last glance at the remains of the murdered inmate.

"Hey guys, wait for me!" he gave mention as he joined the group with Penny, sticking close to the 'wannabes' and being very, very careful not to touch anyone or anything - it seemed sure the only things he wanted making contact were his feet and the floor...

((FOOTNOTE: Due to a stunt Averick pulled in another thread, I've chosen to ignore him from now on. If this causes inconsistencies in character development, I do apologize, but I really don't want to associate with a person like him any longer.))

[ QUOTE ]
God mode on huh?

Nice, you must be like, level 70 or something. Awesome. I wish you luck. I won't be continuing this storyline.

[/ QUOTE ]
OH, I see how it is. First accuse me of godmoding, then do it yourself, and on a whole new level too.

Well fine, if you don't feel like playing nice, you don't have to play at all. I'm outta here.

Oh, and FYI, Force Bubble actually does repel- but I guess you wouldn't care about that, Mr. Hypocrisy.

"I would suggest you do her no harm." the presence 'said' to Harlequin Fear clear as day, though the guards and most other people were apparently oblivious to the disembodied voice. It spoke in a low, deep tone, almost a growl, but also in a gentle weave that indicated a speaker of supreme control...

The reptilian stopped as the quills struck just below his neckline, sticking themselves into his jacket and remaining there.

He threw his arms wide, expanding a monstrous force bubble in all directions, intending to bash anything that wasn't nailed down or could annul the repelling effect into the walls, then have them stick there as if suddenly struck by a fully automatic superglue rifle.

"Cute." he remarked as he snatched the quills out again, scattering them to the floor quickly in case they'd been laced with high explosives, "But you'll need more than that to get under my skin."

"So I'm going to try one more time." he turned the hologram towards the Avatar, though everyone in the room could probably see the current depiction, "Recognize this?"

It was a planet.

It was Temple...

"I'd hoped you'd be asking that." the intruder smiled, producing a slim metal rod, which not a moment later projected the pale-blue image of a clipboard, "I've got several good reasons why you should - aside from me saying please, that is."

"Reason number one." a clawed finger tapped on the hologram as if it were solid, "You've been messing around with the Leviathan as well as mistreating humans. Merulina would be very disappointed. She's got this whole policy of live and let live, and a good amount of respect before all life. If you keep messing around with stuff that, no offense, you don't have the first clue about, she's gonna wake up with a really un-morning-person attitude."

"Reason number two." he continued, "I've got dibs. Well, actually the organization I work for does, but since I currently represent them, that applies to me in person. We've been here for a long, long time, and your little upstart operation here - again, no offense - is really cutting into our plans. And yes, I'd say our plans are more important. I know you guys are kinda isolated out there, but there's a pan-galactic war going on, and not only here. Sure, humans may be knuckleheads at times, and maybe more than we'd all like, but they've got a lot of potential - and that makes them a very important element. I can't just have you enslave slash eat them all."

"Reason number three." was now brought up, "You guys aren't fit to take over here. You're no better than the humans. In some cases, I'd say you're worse, but that's just because they don't have any other intelligent species around to eat on a massive scale. Food that talks is not food - that's a very good rule of general courtesy amongst intelligent beings. So in effect, you don't deserve this place. Neither do the humans, but you deserve it less."

The reptilian looked up from the list, which was clearly a bit longer than just those three. Apparently, however, he thought this was a good time to ask, "Am I getting through to you yet? Take your pick - I've got more..."

Control the media, control the mind.

I ADMIT NOTHING!

*zombie grabs prodiguy*

((Hm, not sure if I agree with the unpreparedness of the guards, but it's Jen's prison. ))

But as Harlequin Fear descended partially into the netherworld, he quickly noticed he wasn't alone. There was something else here - something ominous and ambiguous, shapeless down to a point that only one word could possibly describe its remaining appearance.

Large.

And he'd just drawn its attention...