Chapter 17: Separate Worlds

In Tribute to John Belushi
Written By Mr. X a.k.a. the Spy a.k.a. Fali
And Edwyn, who wrote the dialogue
for the South Park scenes

Act Two - Separate Worlds

Feeling any better, Reno?" Tseng asked of the glum Turk sitting at
the usual table by the window, while at the same time he and Elena set
their trays down on the table beside each other, directly opposite to
him.

"Sort of," Reno admitted, looking up at his two cohorts. "I apologize
for snapping at you so quickly when you went to fetch Daron. I just
haven't been myself lately."

Tseng and Elena exchanged worried glances.

"We noticed," Tseng finally said. "Why? What is wrong?"

"Well," Reno began haltingly, "I... I... I think I've lost it."

"Lost what?" Elena pressed.

"...My Turkish flare."

Tseng and Elena exchanged glances once again.

"Reno," Elena complained. "Stop being so cryptic. What the hell are
you talking about?"

Reno looked surprised for an instant and his eyes widened. Then, he
started to laugh. It started with something resembling a mere giggle
but broke out into a loud, on-going laugh similar to those the Turks
had frequently seen Mr. X give for seemingly no reason whatsoever.

Tseng's brows furrowed. Elena looked at Reno as if he were crazy,
which he may very well have been.

"No.no, you see," Reno said between laughs. "It's cryptic."

As if that explained everything, Reno's laughter continued, though it
seemed his laughter was winding down; it resembled more of a chuckle
now than a maniacal laugh.

Tseng and Elena exchanged worried glances again.

"Tseng..." Elena began. "I think we should call him a doctor."

Instantly serious, Reno turned to them and spoke earnestly. "No, no...
I'm not crazy. I'm... disturbed."

Tseng nodded back at Elena. "I think you're right," he said and began
to stand up.

"Hey, Tseng, buddy, are you so quick to give up on me like that?" Reno
said. "Sit down, man. You'll understand if you'll give me time to
explain."

Tseng hesitated, then, finally, reluctantly sat back down. "This
better be good, Reno," he threatened.

In length, Reno sighed. "Look, when I said 'disturbed', I didn't mean
disturbed in that way. I meant.... my dreams are disturbed. Not a
day goes by when I don't remember the look in Atma's eyes, or...."

Flustered, Reno stopped and threw his hands hopelessly into the air.

"Reno," Elena said. "I don't see how ... that is, Atma and Linda are
not the first people we've had to kill for duty. You yourself have
killed more people than either of us can count, and you've gotten your
awards and paychecks from it. Yet you don't mourn their deaths."

Reno nodded.

"Now," Elena continued with a quick glance back at Tseng, "at the very
beginning, death made us all a little queasy. So if you were one of
the new recruits, this behavior would be ... somewhat understandable.
But you're not. You're one of the senior most of the Turks. Which is
why I can't understand where you're coming from here."

Reno shook his head. "It's just...." he began, and took a quick sip of
his coffee before continuing. "Atma unlocked something within me when
he gave up like that. Instead of seeking vengeance like I'd expected,
he ... forgave me. And he told me he didn't have anything to live for
without Linda. And he told me to kill him." His voice trembled on
this. "And ever since then, I've thought a lot about my humanity and
the humanity of those I killed and what I've been doing and...." he
hesitated, "...and I don't know what to do."

Tseng nodded. "That still doesn't explain why you're acting like a
lunatic."

"'Cause I don't know how else to act!" Reno cried, thumping his fists
against the table and staring with intensity at his fellow Turks. His
coffee splashed across the table and almost got on Tseng's suit. "They
say one's personality is the mask one wears to protect himself from
what frightens him- to create a fake world of familiarity. Well, guess
what! My mask's just shattered. All that I was.. it....

"I just don't know," he finally said. "I don't think I'm ready to be a
Turk anymore."

Elena reassuringly patted his hand. "You'll get over it," she said.
"We all did before."

Any possible continuation of the conversation was abruptly interrupted
by Daron's voice as he - as usual, dressed in nondescript gray - led
the two new uniformed Turks to the table. On the side closest to the
window, a single seat had been reserved for Daron. On either side of
Reno, two more chairs had been reserved for the new Turks to replace
Rude and Josh.

Tseng raised his eyebrows at the two new Turks. While he was thankful
that they, at least, had the taste to wear the official Turk Uniform -
unlike a certain other new Turk who would go unnamed - there was
something unmistakably odd about them, though he couldn't quite figure
what. While the sunglasses certainly weren't something most Turks had
been known for, they were certainly acceptable. Same with the porkpie
hats on their heads. But there was something....

"Hey! I'm Jake, and this is my brother Elwood!" the shorter of the two
said a little too over-enthusiastically for Tseng's tastes, leaning
down till he was right in Tseng's face, "We're going to be here with
you for a while! You see, we're the Band!"

"The.... band?" Tseng, at a loss of anything else to do, furrowed his
brows again. There was something most definitely strange about this
pair. And they didn't seem to have very much in the way of manners,
either.

"These are the new Turks," Daron explained, sitting down. "Apparently,
they have a band playing here tomorrow night."

"Really? What kind of music?" inquired Elena with interest.

"Oh, all kinds, really," the taller of the two spoke, remembering the
fiasco at Bob's Country Bunker twenty years before. "But, uh, we
specialize in Blues."

"Blues?" Elena replied.

The two Turks took their seats and a long period of pure, staring
silence awaited her in response. In this time, Elena discovered that
she rather preferred to be able to look into the eyes of her
colleagues. _Like Tseng's_, she thought, though that was for entirely
different reasons altogether.

Finally, Elena admitted, "I don't know Blues."

"You don't know Blues?" Jake replied, flabbergasted. He turned toward
Elwood. "A tradition that has gone on since the days of Elmore James,
and she doesn't know Blues?"

"I've never heard of them."

"Well, now, we will have to remedy that, won't we, Elwood?"

Elwood nodded. The far more aggressive Jake stood up and glanced at
another table, populated by six men Elena had never seen before, each
holding a different musical instrument.

"Matt!" Jake shouted. "These guys don't know Blues!"

A medium-sized black man dressed in a brown leather jacket and holding
a guitar stood up, and stared right back at him. He had a noticeably
honest face, his upper mouth and head was covered by a cactus of dark,
curly hair, and he had a unique sense of style that made Tseng want to
cringe. "Let's boogie," the man said.

By the time Elena managed to get out another "What are Blues?", the
other five occupants of the other table had already stood up and begun
a deep, slow-moving tune filled with the beautiful sounds of guitar,
drums, trombone, trumpet, and saxophone. Elwood had a harmonica in his
hands and he began to blow into it, adding to the exquisite sound.
Reno seemed oblivious to this and simply sat there, gazing into the
cup of coffee in his hands. Tseng and Elena simply looked surprised.

Jake, meanwhile, began to pace with the rhythm around the table. The
music reached a higher intensity, as if heading toward an early climax
of some sort, and he stepped up onto his chair. The music paused a
moment, changed its pace, and seemed almost to begin again, except
with the already-set background of the first riff.

[For the reader's reference the song played in this scene is Shotgun by The Blues Brothers]

Tseng and Elena exchanged nervous glances. Daron smiled carelessly and
clapped along with Jake and the Blues Brothers Band.

"Every night I go to sleep," Jake began to sing in a deep, sad voice.
"The Blues fall down like rain."

Jake stepped onto the table, keeping pace with the music with every
step, and continued, while the music played on, "every niiiiiiiight I
go to sleep, the Blues...fall down like rain."

All around them, Tseng realized in shock, other patrons, businessmen,
and cooks danced about the floor, keeping pace with the slow, steady
rhythm, while others yet stayed at their tables and simply clapped
their hands or went through the dance motions with their arms and
upper bodies. With the patrons, businessmen, and cooks danced most of
the musicians, each holding their well-tuned instruments in hand. The
man Jake had identified as "Matt" stood on the table he had been
sitting at previously and he skilfully hit the various chords on his
guitar.

Daron leaped to his feet, looked both ways, and leaped on to the table
beside Jake. Wildly, deliriously, and yet remaining a part of the tone
and rhythm of the song, Daron danced. Tseng's eyes widened, and he
shook his head disapprovingly.

"Taking pills n' cheap whiskey," Jake went on, "Just to try to ease
the pain."

The tune continued. Each chord hit, hit with a tragic intensity. Jake
paused as this went on, lowered his microphone, and walked
rhythmically across the table until he reached the edge.

"It's hard to gaaaaaaamble," Jake sang, leaping almost casually off of
the table and causing it to shake like a tuning fork for a long moment
afterward. He started forward, flanked on both sides by slow-dancing
patrons, businessmen, cooks, and musicians. "When you lose...every
bet."

Reno looked up from his misery as if somehow touched by these last
words. He turned to look at Jake and pulled himself to his feet.
Elwood stood up and began to slowly dance, all the while piping on his
harmonica. Much to Tseng's astonishment, Elena pushed herself up from
the table and began to dance with the line of people.

"Hard to save money," Jake sang, "when you're twenty years in debt."

"The Blues is falling," Jake and Reno sang in unison. "Falling down on
me like rain."

"I'm going to take a shotgun now people," Jake continued, his voice
allowing a gritty element to enter into his tragic tone. "And
disconnect my brain."

"Matt 'Guitar' Murphy!" Jake shouted, and threw the microphone to
Reno. Reno eagerly grabbed at it and started to dance in a line all of
his own. Tseng's eyes widened, and he stared at each of his fellow
Turks in turn with something resembling horror.

The music continued without the vocals for a short while, and the
symphony of sadness continued. During this period of time, Elena
grabbed Tseng's hand, pulled him to his feet, and threw him into line
beside the other dancers in the cafeteria. Tseng's dancing was awkward
and embarrassed; no proper Turk, after all, should engage in such
unprofessional activities!

Finally, the vocals resumed, and Reno was all too enthusiastic to add
the next tragic lyrics to the mix. "I made some mistakes," he sang and
the cooks and patrons cheered, "Had some baaaaaad breaks. Now my mind
don't work - and my whole body aches."

"The Blues is falling...falling dowwwwwn on me like rain."

Reno paused and surveyed the scene with infinite sadness reading in
his eyes. "My life...is like water!" he went on.

"Just swirling...down the drain," he and Jake sang as one.

This was followed by another short segment filled with the
instrumentation of the rest of the Band. Elwood blew more actively
into the harmonica, Tseng tripped and fell, an awkward mess, to the
floor. Jake snatched the microphone from Reno's hands and sang the
next lines.

"Well...I tried standin' up...But I keep on falling down."

Tseng looked up as if this were a personal affront against him, and
leaped back to his feet. Though continuing to seem awkward in his
dance motions, he followed Elena's and managed to stay inside the line
for once.

"Tried standin' up...keep on falling down."

Elwood sat back down in his seat and continued to blow into the
harmonica.

"Everywhere I go..." Jake finished. "The Bluuuuuuuues is all around."

In the next few seconds, each member of the Band played his different
part of the final masterpiece of winding down the Blues. The already
sad and slow-moving song seemed to go lower and lower into the pits of
depression and met a kind of climax that felt for a sort of
untouchable tragic intensity.

The musicians played their final chords. The final echoes of the
instruments rang into nothingness.

A moment passed, then each of the gathered patrons, businessmen,
cooks, and musicians stepped out of the lines and started back into
their usual business. Jake sat down beside his brother; across the
table, an embarrassed Tseng and a smiling Elena sat back down to face
them. Daron leaped off of the table and into his seat.

Yet it was Reno who spoke first.

"That was beautiful, man," he said, sitting down between the two Blues
Brothers and wiping a tear from his eye.


***


Today, the dentist's office was unusually empty. As it seemed, the
chocobo races had taken public focus away from their cavities and
broken teeth, leaving Doctor Protebus with very few patients and
leaving the secretary with a day of stuffy relaxation, reading
slanderous things about celebrities in the so-called newspapers and
magazines.

The waiting room had an eerie, ghostly feeling in the sudden absence
of the voices of screaming children and stressed-out mothers and
chatty people coming in for their weekly check-ups. The piles of
magazines sitting on small coffee tables beside and in front of the
many seats remained relatively undisturbed from the neat piles they
had been placed in that morning, instead of the usual mess left by
uncaring patrons.

However, there was one person in AGFF, at least, who could care less
about the chocobo races in the face of her current dental plight. That
person was Mary Gifaldi, whose teeth had been knocked out by a
mistaken toss of the late Cherubae's boomerang.

When the door opened, the middle-aged secretary nearly fell out of her
seat in her attempt to look professional. She knocked the trash
magazines off of her desk - as if that would erase the fact that she
was reading them - and leaned forward to look at Mary.

"Wow, a patient," she said in a dry voice. "So, you are... Mary
Gifaldi, since she's the only person in today's appointment book.
Right?"

Embarrassed to open her mouth until after her appointment, Mary simply
nodded her head.

"Go straight on in," the secretary continued. "Oh, and if the dentist
has fallen asleep again, just give him a gentle nudge. The business
hasn't exactly been booming today."

"I'll do that," Mary said as soon as she had walked far enough that
her face - or, more specifically, her teeth - could not be seen by the
secretary. She pulled open the door upon which the words "Dr. V.
Protebus" had been somehow elegantly handwritten, and stepped in.

Physically, the office resembled any number of offices where a dentist
might fix one's teeth; the wall was decorated with unknown paintings
and photographs, the floor covered by a mundane light-blue rug. a
small tape-player sat on a counter beside a sink and a cupboard
undoubtedly filled with the tools and gear of a dentist. The tape
player was currently off, and the walls were a dull whitish-gray
color.

What differentiated this room from most of its sort was the odd,
serene, meditative atmosphere that filled it, and the incense sticks
held in various places around the room, many of them broken, many of
them unlit, and many of them still lit and discarding their ashes
slowly into small piles around the room.

And then, of course, there was the actual dentist himself, sitting in
a most uncomfortable-looking cross-legged position on the arms of the
chair usually reserved for patients. In most respects, he didn't look
the least bit unusual- he had a short ponytail of beautiful brown
hair, but the hair that had not made it into the ponytail had
apparently been cut off, for there were no tangles or loose threads of
any sort around his head.

Another point of interest in the room was that it was unlit by any
electric light. While a light bulb was in a direct line above the
dentist, he hadn't bothered to turn it on. Instead, in its place were
half a dozen lit candles, each occupying a different space around the
room, two of which were placed precariously on the edge of the arms of
the chair, inches from the dentist's muscular legs. One wrong move
could topple those candles, one accidental tremble of the earth...

Mary stepped forward, making a note to be cautious, and focused her
attention now on the dentist's unblemished and obviously naturally
pale face, reddening only now with the heat of the nearby flames and
his own musings. He muttered under his breath almost continuously,
without hesitation or pause, and Mary got the sense he was in a
conversation of great, vital importance to the well-being of AGFF.

_Not so unusual,_ Mary mused, _but he IS cute._

He was thin, but not too thin and his shoulders were broad and
moderately muscular, though not to the point of being particularly
noticeable. He could probably pass off as both a ninety-pound weakling
and a heavy boxer, depending on which he decided to impersonate at any
given time.

Mary leaned forward until her face was only a finger's breadth away
from the dentist's, and there she halted for a moment. His breath,
coming out in huffs, was warmer than most, and at this proximity, she
could feel herself also beginning to sweat.

"Doctor? Doctor Protebus?" she whispered to him, and she cautiously,
gently lowered one hand to his shoulder. "Doc-"

The dentist's eyes widened, and he gazed frightfully into her eyes.
His brilliant eyes, a complex series of shades, reminded her of water,
of a flowing blue river, of the vivid descriptions Kain had given her
before his disappearance of the magical battlefield he and four others
had stood on when they fought the dark spirit Zeromus.

And, suddenly, she was there in that flowing tunnel of light of the
dentist's eyes and Kain's descriptions. She could only make futile
attempts to hold back a gasp as she sped forward through this tunnel,
unable for one long terrifying moment to feel any of her limbs or
control any of her movements or even cry out.

The tunnel went on for what seemed like forever, and she found herself
flying forward at an even faster pace. If she could have slammed her
eyes shut, she would have upon first catching sight of the end of this
tunnel, a sudden break in the blue light, a sudden black hole in the
middle of everything, speeding toward her.

Mary suddenly found herself back in her body, falling backwards and
out of control, away from the now very conscious dentist, who still
sat motionless in the chair. The world seemed to spin out of control
so she only barely managed to grab hold of the edge of the doorway and
hold herself up. Nausea almost overcame her for an instant, but she
quickly shook it off.

With a single swipe of his hand, the dentist had each and every lit
candle blown out - even the ones in directions far from him. Of equal
interest, the light switch, a total of four or five feet away, flicked
on.

Still, Mary refused to be impressed. Or maybe she was just too dizzy
to care. She grabbed onto the doorway and pulled herself up, just in
time to be confronted by the enraged dentist. His brilliant eyes
flashed with a barely concealed rage and paranoia, and he gripped her
powerfully by the shoulders.

"Who are you?" he demanded of her and his voice sounded hoarse and
unprepared. "What do you want?"

"I- I'm Mary Gifaldi! I'm here for my appointment!"

The dentist hesitated at this, and shook his head suddenly as if he
were just waking up. Almost instantly, his hands left Mary's shoulders
and he sheepishly bowed his head to the floor. If his face had seemed
red before, she certainly did not know how to define it now, flooded
with embarrassment as the dentist was- it was redder than a beet,
redder than the reddest steak or gem.

"Oh," he responded quietly, continuing to gaze at the floor. Finally,
he looked back up at her and smiled awkwardly. And Mary instantly
warmed to him. "I'm so sorry- I forgot. You see, today, uh... Actually
most of this week every year I am lucky to get even one patient, and I
didn't recall. I'm sorry."

When Mary didn't respond immediately, he continued, "I don't know how
to make it up to you... may I buy you lunch?"

Now it was Mary's turn for hesitation. Finally, reluctantly, she
opened her mouth and showed him her teeth - or, rather, her lack of
teeth thereof - and she sighed.

"Oh..." The dentist spoke, and he sounded curious, but too ashamed to
ask. Which was good, Mary decided. She didn't want to tell any tales
until she had a working mouth again. "Maybe after, then."

"Uh... Won't my jaw ache like crazy? It did the last time I broke a
tooth, and this should hurt infinite times worse."

"Not to worry," the dentist assured her. "My tools are enchanted, if
you believe in that stuff. I worked with a master mage to place a
series of enchantments on the drill, which eventually brought me to
the result I was looking for. Several cure spells were integrated, as
well as an reworked version of a common ice spell which will
temporarily numb your mouth while the new teeth are being drilled in.
Ten minutes later. sometimes twenty, depending on the person. your
mouth will lose the numbing effect and it will literally feel as good
as new."

"A Master Mage?" Mary replied, with a touch of fake concern mingled
with a knowing humor in her voice. "Not Darlon, I hope?"

The Darlon she referred to, of course, was the legendary newbie who
was once said to have accidentally saved the world from an evil spirit
by, as legend said, mischanting the words to the Ice1 Spell. Darlon
released, instead, an advanced version of the spell Holy and destroyed
the evil spirit instantly. Darlon was also known to have an ego the
size of Jupiter and had given himself the title "Master Mage," before
he even knew all of the offensive first level spells.

For a moment, the dentist merely looked confused and Mary was mildly
afraid he hadn't caught the reference. This fear was extinguished a
moment later when a glimmer of understanding entered his eyes and he
chuckled good-naturedly at her.

His smile would have had Mary enthralled if the light in his eyes
hadn't already done the trick. Even a joke as stupid as the Darlon
joke seemed to sound good to him, and she felt at once that she didn't
need to do too much out of the ordinary to gain his admiration, yet
she wanted to do everything to.

_Just like with Falc,_ she thought, and immediately looked away,
suddenly angry at how a simple dentist could take her normally
balanced emotions and muddle with them without ever moving a finger.

_What are you doing, Mary Gifaldi?_ she asked herself, thinking
suddenly of Falconer and the fiasco she had gone through with Arkham
and Butz three years before. _You vowed NEVER to do this to yourself
again!_

Nevertheless, she remained intrigued, and her intrigue only grew
through the space of what would otherwise just be an ordinary
dentist's appointment. She found herself unable to concentrate and
followed the dentist's directions only numbly. She was half-aware of
herself sitting down at the dentist's chair and she possessed
absolutely no fear as the dentist approached with his enchanted drill.

There was a touch of pain as the drill met the flesh of her lower
mouth, but it was quickly replaced by the promised numbness of her
jaw. Whichever enchantment it was, it was certainly working.

For half an hour, Mary gazed deliriously at the dentist's face, though
his nose down to his chin was covered by a thin mask of white cloth.
Meanwhile, the dentist gazed with a necessary focus into Mary's mouth
with only the occasional glance up at the rest of her face.

At some point, the dentist raised his eyes to her own and he held her
gaze for a long moment. He turned the drill off and placed it on the
counter, where they both forgot about it. After another long moment,
he pulled the cloth mask off of his face and she pulled him down onto
the chair with both arms and held him a tight embrace.

Doctor Protebus' coat fell disregarded to the floor, and he slid his
arms under her back. He pressed a button on the chair and it lowered
itself till it was no longer a chair but a very thin bed. She embraced
him tightly, feeling reassured as he did the same. He lowered his face
down to her and his lips touched hers. Everything else was drowned out
by the silent music of her pleasure.

Mary returned with a jolt back to reality as the sound of the drill
died down and the dentist raised it from her restructured teeth and
placed it on the counter. He pulled the cloth mask off of his face and
turned away from her for a moment. He casually placed the drill back
into a drawer under the counter and turned back to face her.

"Well, all done," he spoke triumphantly and smacked both palms loudly
against each other. "So, how's the mouth?"

"It's, uh.." Mary began, cursing herself inwardly for being such a
klutz, "From what I can tell, it's pretty good. As you said, I can't
feel very much right now. But it doesn't feel so. empty anymore."

The dentist beamed. "Good! I have to admit, it was a fairly serious
case and it sometimes requires more than one treatment, but you look
like you'll be perfectly fine."

Mary nodded, but did not say anything. Her tongue felt about her lower
and upper mouth and she was pleased to feel fresh new teeth there
again.

A long moment of silence followed this discovery, and Mary found
herself once again looking into the eyes of the dentist, however much
part of her wished she wouldn't. Part of her simply wanted to stare
into the depths of those delightful blue eyes, part of her wanted to
shy away as she had before. _It would be easier to end this before it
begins._

This time, however, it was the dentist who broke the ice. He didn't
look away, but the intensity of the gaze changed abruptly. He looked,
from all appearances, as if he were talking apologetically to any
number of patients who he may have offended, when he said, "I must
apologize again for my earlier outburst. It was totally uncalled for
on my part."

"Oh, it's okay. really," Mary began to explain it away as she would
explain away the accidental breaking of a cup or a plate at one of her
parties.

"Still, may I take you out to lunch? There's a great diner a block
down from here and it would put my mind at ease to make it up to you,
at least."

Mary paused, considering. _Chocobo races or lunch with this guy I
really shouldn't be flirting with? Chocobo races or . innocent lunch
date with a dentist, and nothing more? Chocobo races? Naaah._

"Certainly," Mary spoke before her better judgement could get in the
way. Heck with it. She was back home, and she deserved to be treated
well. "Thank you. Doctor Protebus."

"Please," the dentist urged her kindly. "Call me Visionus."


***


The outdoor caf, Visionus brought Mary to had an excellent atmosphere
to it. Based at the top of the hill just to the south of the busy
Sunset Boulevard, Les Han˜ Vue had been set up almost entirely
outdoors, with only restrooms and a busy kitchen inside the small
shack. In front of the shack, tables with umbrellas connected on to
shield the sun were packed with elegant people dressed in elegant
clothing.

No sooner had Visionus led Mary to an unused table did a well-dressed
waiter appear from the doorway to the shack and start toward them.
Visionus hastily ordered fried rice with a side of lamb, while Mary
had to struggle over the options for a while. Finally, she made a
compromise: her dieting side ordered a nice little salad, while the
rest of her splurged and ordered steak.

"So," Visionus began soon after, as they waited for the separate meals
to arrive. "If you don't mind my asking, how exactly *did* you end up
with your teeth knocked out like that?"

"You want the long version or the short version?"

"Whichever you're comfortable with."

Mary, remembering she tended to have a hard time with the "short
version" - especially when it was so emotionally involving and she
hadn't had an opportunity to talk to her shrink about it - opted for
the long version.

And so Mary told her tale, first describing how she and a number of
Relm Defenders and Defilers had been gathered together by an
Unofficial Defender named Craxton. Craxton spoke of a villainous man
who was known only as Mr. X. According to Craxton, he had kidnapped
Relm the night before and spoken of cloning an entire army of Relms
and taking over the world with them.

Mary went on to describe how Craxton and the current leader of the
Relm Defenders had taken a shuttle up to the Moonbase Kujata while
Mary and the other Defenders and Defilers had taken a van driven by
Lord Bob to the Fortress of Mr. X.

Visionus followed with intrigue as she described how the van broke
down and they ended up pushing it a short distance through the
sweltering heat, tired and dehydrated. And how the appearances of two
individuals saved them.

When Mary mentioned Slipgate, Visionus' eyes widened, and he quickly
stopped her.

"Slipgate? Are you referring to the Dragon Slipgate?"

"Yep.You know him?"

"You could say that," Visionus shrugged and his mouth broke into a
grin. "He showed up at my office one day and asked if I could inspect
his teeth in dragon form, since every time he transformed, he felt a
sharp pain between some of his lower teeth. I'm afraid I couldn't do
much for him, though. my tools were human size. which I suppose makes
it a good thing his problem was that a somewhat sharp rock had somehow
gotten stuck between his teeth, rather than any draconian cavities."

The idea of Slipgate, the mighty dragon who had fought beside her in
Mr. X's fortress, going for a check up at the Dentist's office amused
Mary and she could not hold back a chuckle.

It was only by an odd stroke of luck that Mary managed to see Lord
Falconer of the elite AGFF Alpha Wave out of the corner of her eye.
His dark hair was combed back and pulled into a short ponytail at the
back of his head and, while he looked calm enough, his face was set
with intention and focus. He was walking at a fast pace down the hill
leading toward the southern entrance to the Castle AGFF.

"Hey! Falc!" Mary shouted to him, and she realized she desperately
wanted him there with her, to balance her emotions out again. She
knew, with a sudden clarity, that her love for Falconer far overcame
the desire she possessed for this mere dentist. And perhaps, with his
presence alone, she could put her heart at ease once again.

Falconer's ears seemed to prick up at the sound of her voice, he
quickly stopped in mid-stride, and he glanced back the direction of
the caf,. His eyes searched the caf, for a moment before they focused
on Mary herself. Then, with a grin, he started back up the hill toward
her.

"Hey, Mary," he greeted her breathlessly. "Listen, I hate to have to
talk and run, but the King has sent for us on some urgent case or
another, and we must follow his command. But. It is good to see you
again. How are the teeth?"

"The teeth are wonderful," Mary replied exuberantly, opening her mouth
wide to show her newest set of teeth. "And sitting across from me is
the genius who made them that way."

Visionus stood up and extended his hand. The thin Knight, without
hesitation, warmly shook it in one of his own. "It is an honor,
Doctor.?"

"Protebus. And the honor is all mine," Visionus replied with equal
warmth. "I have seen what you and your fellows have done for this
community, and to even be in the presence of such a man makes me only
all the more humble."

Mary blushed at the sound of this, for when reminded of her
boyfriend's massive accomplishments, even she felt infinitely humbled.
Falconer, however, only nodded. As was perfectly reasonable to expect;
after all, he and the other members of the Alpha Wave heard praise
more frequently than perhaps even the King himself.

"Anyway," Falconer finally said after a long moment. "I'd better be
going. It was nice to meet you, Doctor Protebus. And I'll see you at
your place tonight, Mary?"

Mary smiled. "See you there."

"Well," Visionus said after Falconer descended down the hill once
again. "He's a great man, Mary. You're a lucky woman."

Mary didn't blush again, namely because her first blush had not
disappeared yet. To draw attention away from her rosy cheeks, she
quickly replied, "Thank you. He is, he is."

She hesitated to bring the events of the past few weeks back into her
mind, and quickly found her mind flooded with memories of pain,
horror, sadness, isolation, and yet a grand sense of companionship she
hadn't felt since. she didn't remember when. Being careful to keep her
mind on the subject at hand, she finally continued her tale. "Anyway.
after we met up with Slipgate, we dumped the van and climbed up onto
his back. From there, we flew on toward Mr. X's fortress, till later
that night."

To the bemused dentist, she described the initial assault on their
group by the Shadow Dragon, the battle on the platform in front of Mr.
X's fortress, the infiltration of Mr. X's base through a window in the
side of the building, and Kim's mildly annoying skeptical behavior.
She spoke of the failed surprise attack, the alarms, the guards, and
Jason's sacrifice of his 'Titan' Materia to save the group. She went
especially into detail about their first meeting with Elena, and her
great shock when she found out Edwyn had joined the Turks.

Mary went on to describe how the Turks had forced her group to march
into a giant cathedral in the center of the fortress where much of the
fighting broke out minutes later. She described how they managed to
catch the soldiers holding them at laserpoint by surprise and defeat
most of them. She then woefully went on to describe how a mistaken
toss of Cherubae's boomerang had taken her out of the action
permanently.

"So. What happened to Relm? Did you save her, restore peace to the
Kingdom, etcetra?" Visionus finally asked.

Mary shook her head. "'Sadly, no. Kim and Jason managed to defeat Mr.
X, but not before he stabbed Relm through the back. and killed her.
Jason apparently tried to revive her, but he was. unsuccessful."

The horror and dismay that colored Visionus' every feature, the short
gasp of breath, and the long moment of silence that followed it was
very much expected - after all, Relm, in her short time in AGFF, had
gained many friends and many foes, and it could not be denied that
even the Defilers, for the most part, would miss her. Yet, there was
something else in Visionus' demeanor that spoke of more than the
average level of disgust, something paranoid and knowing without
knowing.

"G-Good God!" Visionus stammered, and his blue eyes flashed with the
form of surprise one might see in such a man when perhaps hearing that
his entire country has been bombed to oblivion or his entire family
had been diagnosed with a contagious fatal disease of his own
creation. Far more than Relm, his voice and his eyes spoke of a horror
for what might happen to many more people besides.

Mary didn't know how to respond. She expected to hear condolences,
apologies, rage directed at the deceased Mr. X and annoyance and
amusement at Cherubae's mistaken throw, as she had heard from those
she had spoken to already regarding the failed mission of the RRF.
Nothing like . this, whatever this was.

Visionus grasped Mary by the arm and continued, an urgent note in his
voice, "Mary. I fear this may be bigger than both of us, if my
theories are correct. The mission you just described is a lot like the
one spoken of in the dual Legend, according to." he hesitated and went
on, ".and I theorized Relm might be the Last Innocent. Please
continue. What happened after Relm was murdered?"


***


Depending on where you were, your encounters in the Fooey Desert would
vary definitively. Near AGFFH, for example, one might encounter
retarded or genetically mutated clones deemed unfit for sexual
practices and doomed to wander the humid desert till their death. Many
of them were harmless, many of them were deadly, but all of them -
save for the occasional escapees - were rejects of Greg or Pigwalk's
separate industries.

Nearest Alt.starwars, one might have the bad luck of running across
the antagonistic sand people or the furry con men known as Jawas, or
even the occasional lone wandering Bantha. Scorpions and snakes, while
infrequent on the surface, also could be found just about anywhere in
the desert but were common in the area of Alt.starwars.

And then, of course, there was the space between Alt.starwars, AGFFH,
and the shores of Al' T-, where nothing much ever really happened.
Even the scorpions and snakes seemed to steer clear of it, and the
cactuses and other desert plants were the only signs of life ever
found around there. Well, except for the occasional unlucky Light
Warriors - such as Dave and Citan - who found themselves with no
choice but to wander these empty sands with the sun beating down upon
their backs with an unwanted ferocity and the wind seeming to serve no
other purpose other than to blow sand into their faces.

This had Dave, in particular, too bored to simply walk in silence, and
too exhausted to do very much more than gripe when he did speak.

"Goddammit," he complained after climbing yet another dune of sand
beside Citan, only to see several more in front of him, and still no
sign whatsoever of any life or civilization anywhere. "Citan, I
thought you said we were going to find civilization."

"We are," Citan retorted, his own generally calm and rational demeanor
thrown to the wind in the face of the terrible unwavering heat. "If I
have studied my geography and ecology correctly, we are walking
somewhere between Alt.games.final-fantasy.hentai and alt.starwars.
Either way, we should be coming upon civilization of some sort in the
next couple of days."

"The next couple of days!?" Dave cried, stopping in midstep. "But. but
what about Celes? I thought we'd go get help once we reached some
civilization, and we'd find her? It'll be too late in a couple of
days!"

"Dave," Citan replied sharply. "For god's sake, get your head out of
your pants. She probably drowned, and even if she did survive, who's
to say she ended up in the same place we did? She could be anywhere by
now. she could be on some distant shores, or she could be some sea
serpent's lunch. And, let's say, just by some coincidence, she did end
up on the shores of Al' T- like us? The shore runs several hundred
miles, Dave! It would take you several days to walk around it, at
best. And you think she'll just wait by the seaside, because of the
tiny possibility that you might still be alive and go looking for her?
She'll do exactly what we're doing, Dave- she'll walk until she
collapses and dies or she reaches civilization!"

"I know it sounds irrational," Dave replied, and by the sound of his
voice, Citan could tell he was on the verge of bursting. "But, Citan.
I love her. If there is any chance I can save her, I will!"

"You lust after her. You don't love her. You can't love her, you
fool. It is genetically impossible."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're a clone, Dave! Just like me! You're a stupid fucking clone!"

"What.?"

"Ever wondered why every time you saved someone's life or joined in
some quest, you were ultimately left with an empty feeling inside? Why
every serious relationship you've ever had never seemed to work out?"
"SHUT UP!" Dave cried and he rushed forward and punched Citan in the
face. Rationally, he knew he was allowing himself to be influenced by
the heat of the sun, but too much of him was much too angry now to
care. "Shut up! Shut up! You don't know anything! It hasn't always
been that way!"

Citan leaped to his feet and his sword was drawn. "It has ever since
you arrived on AGFF. Your memories are not your own. You are not
Dave."

Dave's face reddened even further, his tensions grew, and the fact
that the sun only seemed to grow hotter and hotter with every passing
moment certainly didn't help. Enraged, all sense of rationale left him
and he pulled a black handgun from his belt and aimed it at Citan.
"This gun," he growled. "Killed men tougher than you, Citan, when I
lived in Midworld."

"Put it down, Dave. If you shoot me, you'll lose your only guide."

"Guide? I don't need a guide. I want to find Celes. All I have to do
is walk back the way we came. And, you know. I don't think anyone
would miss you."

Dave hesitated, and brought his finger to the trigger. That was all
the warning Citan needed. He charged, even as Dave pulled the trigger,
and several things happened at once.

The bullet exited Dave's gun. Citan whirled the thin blade around and
chopped into Dave's gun hand. The bullet flew into Citan's shoulder
and exited out his back. He began to fall backwards, as if in slow
motion. His thin blade drew blood and Dave's hand flew from his wrist,
taking the gun with it. Dave let out a scream of pain and both he and
Citan hit the ground simultaneously - and started an uncontrollable
roll back down the dune they had climbed as companions only brief
minutes before.

"F-fuck!" Dave could only exclaim, holding his gun arm up and
clutching onto his wrist with his one remaining hand. Blood poured
freely from his wrist and decapitated hand, but it didn't look like he
had quite absorbed exactly what had just occurred yet.

With little or no regard for this, Citan got to his knees and held the
sword to Dave's throat. "Go," he said, and his throaty voice seemed to
lack any emotion or pain whatsoever. "Leave right now, and I will not
kill you. If your place is to try and find your girlfriend, so be it.
I will not trouble you any further. But leave me alone. Now."

Dave glared into Citan's eyes for a long moment, and he clutched
pitifully onto the remains of his wrist. Then, slowly, he stood up and
backed off. His eyes remained on Citan as he did so until he was ten
or eleven feet away, then he turned around and walked slowly away,
back the way he had came.

Citan stood up and dropped the blade. His arm no longer had any power
in it, and he barely possessed the strength to hold it up as long as
he had. He noted that the blade had cut deep into his own leg when he
rolled out-of-control down the side of the dune and the legs of his
green pants were even greener with his blood. He could be dying, he
realized.

_I need to move fast,_ he thought, and that was all it took. He turned
back toward the dune and started to limp back up, away from Dave and
his foolish love.


***


With uncertainty, Mary had continued, and found she had a difficult
time putting together all of the stories she had heard from the
various other members of her team who had gone to AGFFH and came back.
Many of them conflicted with one another, and for all she knew, the
story she told was way off.

But when she spoke of the threatening note Slipgate found on the floor
of Kim's room, the Turks on the bridge, and the battle between the
Turks and Jason's forces, she knew from the tense look of certainty on
Visionus' face that she was telling the story close to how it really
happened.

The dentist's expression grew only more and more determined, certain,
and alarmed as the story went on. When she told of Ragnarok, the tidal
wave, and the gigantic tornado, Visionus halted her.

"Mary," the dentist said, turning to stare her in the eyes. She found
that she could not look away. "Does the term 'Spearbearer' sound
familiar to you?"

"Y-Yes... Slipgate mentioned that he believes Kim might be...."

"Then, we have a major crisis on our hands," the dentist said,
cryptically. "Mary. Would it be too much to ask you to set up a
meeting with your companions who left the main group with you tonight
at eight? It is of consequence to the entire state of the Usenet
Planet."

Had anyone else asked or said that, she probably would have replied
with a big, loud "fat chance!" - yet, something in his voice, in his
eyes, even in his posture told her that doctor Protebus was telling
the truth as he knew it. And, indeed, the Fate of the entire world
hung in the balance.

And so, staring right back into the dentist's eyes, Mary said
something that would have shocked her that morning into believing she
was about to go crazy, something so spontaneous and so naive and so
very adventurous that illogical didn't even begin to describe it, and
that was:

"Yes."


***


Overhead, a storm was brewing. In fact, to the east, occasional bolts
of lightning could be seen lighting up the sky, followed by loud
bursts of thunder.

The 480 Highway, going northward to AGFF City, was mostly clear,
because of the high winds, the rain, and the thunder storm - not to
mention that it was getting to be fairly late in the evening -
disturbed only by the occasional growl of a car's engine. Perhaps one
car could be guaranteed to pass per hour. Like the one doing so at the
moment.

It was approaching eight o'clock at night. With the passing of the
seasons, the sky already had become quite dark. Normally, the stars
would shine beautifully and each of the many constellations could be
seen in the night sky by this point, but this was blotted out by the
dark clouds blanketing the sky from horizon to horizon.

Which made it a good thing that the two occupants of the car currently
driving down this empty highway had no intention of stargazing.

The car was a shiny car, owned and manufactured by a Subdivision of
one of the most prominent Organizations on the Usenet Planet, though
the public knew it by a different name. In fact, even most Agents on
both sides of this Subdivision knew it by different names. All of
this, however, is unimportant to the current subject because neither
title was on the car. It was simply a sleek, shiny, silver gray car.
Like several thousand others that had been manufactured for the same
purpose. It was sleek, it was hip, it was cool, and it didn't seem
like the kind of vehicle that an Organization trying to take over the
world would manufacture. Which was the entire point.

None of this was on the minds of the two men wearing sunglasses and
staring out at the road in front of them. What thoughts were actually
going through their minds were anyone's guess; but it was obvious it
had something to do with business. Aretha Franklin's "Think" played
quietly in the background on the well-manufactured yet specifically
average tape player.


***


Several days before, Jake and Elwood seemed to be finally about to
make their big break. While their business had been good - as far as
business could be from inside "the joint" - they were about to drink
in fresh air, own their own property, and do whatever they wanted to
for the first time in eighteen years. It was their final day in
prison, and the next day their exclusive contract with Aquarian
Records would finally benefit them in their real lives. They would
tour the country, playing Blues at various concerts, and they'd
finally have the freedom to record in studio as many compact discs
worth of music as they liked.. Not to mention being able to finally
use the money they earned to live well.

While neither they nor their band particularly cared for the prison or
the blobs of something that constituted prison food, no one could
honestly say they hadn't left their mark on Joliet Correctional
Facility. For eighteen years, they played Blues in the prison
cafeteria every Saturday night. And for the prisoners who would serve
their entire lives there, the Blues was the only reprieve from the
misery of their lives, the only reason to keep going.

Both the prisoners and the guards felt a touch of sadness on this
final Saturday night as Jake and Elwood sang the traditional "Jail
House Rock" for the final time. Their sadness, they knew, was the
Blues Brothers' happiness. All Jake and Elwood ever wanted was a
little freedom and a little Blues.

Fate, however, seemed to have a different idea. For even while Joliet
Jake sang "Jail House Rock" to the prisoners of Joliet Correctional
Facility for the final time, thunder boomed outside the facility, and
the highest winds since decades before blew harshly into the walls and
the outlying city of Chicago. A tornado warning had been issued in the
area, and, every couple of minutes, the power would flick on and off
like the lightning surrounding the facility.

While none who survived the incident could recall exactly what
happened, the events unfolded somewhat like this:

"Sad Sack was sittin' on a block of stone," sang Jake. The lights
flickered on and off briefly, but this warning went relatively
unnoticed. "Way over in the corner weepin' all alone.The warden said
Hey buddy don't you be no square.If you can't find a partner use a
wooden chair."

The wind howled loudly in the background, amazingly managing to match
the incredible sound of the Blues Brothers band in both loudness and
intensity.

"Let's rock," Jake went on, though a touch of uncertainty had now
entered his voice. The other musicians slowed their instruments to a
screeching halt and stared frightfully up at the windows. "Everybody,
let's. rock.."

Jake's final "let's rock" exited his mouth as more of a breathless
gasp than as a part of a song. Simultaneously, all of the windows
shattered as one and pieces of broken glass sprayed down into the
crowd of frightened prisoners. The prisoners began to struggle to get
away from the cafeteria, but before they could get anywhere close to
the doors and before any of the guards could think to try to block
them, the wall directly behind the Blues Brothers Band seemed to melt
into an approaching funnel of dark wind.

Almost faster than the eye could see, the odd tornado centered itself
on the stage where the Blues Brothers Band had previously been
performing. Jake, Elwood, and the Band disappeared into the funnel at
a speed of several hundred miles an hour, followed by many of their
instruments. The instruments that did not disappear into the funnel
instead slammed into various people or places, causing much chaos and
making much noise.

The roar of the wind was louder than what most of the occupants of the
room had ever heard, or ever wanted to hear, in their lives. And yet
the tornado was extremely small; it was approximately the size of the
stage it now covered and, unlike normal tornadoes, it stayed focused
on that one spot - rather than speeding through the cafeteria,
probably killing every prisoner there, and leaving just like that.

And then, all of a sudden, the tornado funnel took off from the ground
and flew back up into the clouds, leaving only a trashed correctional
facility and a number of stunned guards and prisoners. But the Blues
Brothers and their entire Band were gone.


***


Mere minutes later, Jake and Elwood found themselves sprawled
facefirst on a large waxed marble floor, waxed to the point of leaving
a clear, sharp reflection of people that would put most magic mirrors
to shame.

Brushing dirt and loose rocks off of their suits, Jake and Elwood
picked themselves up off of this floor. The surrounding castle was
majestic and overpowering. The ceiling, with a giant beautiful
chandelier hanging from it, was at least thirty feet above them, and
the walls were arched like towers with large rectangular windows
looking out to a plain of clouds directly below them. The stone walls
looked concrete and modern, yet somehow seemed aged.

In front of them, a long winding staircase with a bright red rug
covering its center led up to an oaken door several meters above them.
It, too, carried a feeling of age, yet it looked clean and recent. But
there was a certain aura about the place that told Jake and Elwood
that the modern look was only in the appearance.

It was none of what awaited them that was most amazing to behold,
however; instead, it was where they had just been deposited from that
so bedazzled even those who were slow to amazement, such as the Blues
Brothers. A giant, ten-foot wide, ten-foot long globe of light-green,
greenish-white liquids and shapes mixing and mingling with each other
to make more light-green and greenish-white liquids and shapes. On the
floor just a few inches in front of this globe of shifting, changing
green, Steve "The Colonel" Cropper, Matt "Guitar" Murphy, Donald
"Duck" Dunn, Lou "Blue Lou" Marini, Alan "Mr. Fabulous" Rubin, and Tom
"Bones" Malone lay in a heap with a number of their instruments.

"Where. are we?" Elwood began, picking his porkpie hat back up from
the floor and placing it on his head. Both Jake's suit and his own
were covered by dried mud and dirt, evidence of their spin cycle
through the tornado only moments before.

"You're in Murgorath's Tower," a calm voice from the top of the
staircase said. "But the question is. Where are you from, and how can
you assist me in accomplishing my ends?"

At once, Jake and Elwood looked up. The oak door at the top of the
stairs had silently opened- so silently it could not be heard- and
standing beyond it, with his hands clenched against the rail at the
edge of the stairs, a giant man stood at roughly seven feet, four
inches. He wore a long, flowing, blood red robe which covered him from
head to foot. His hood had been pushed aside, exposing a rude but
handsome face, his hair was short and black as the night, his
omniscient eyes glistened with evil intent, and it was with these eyes
that he glared down at the two conscious arrivals.

"Well, let me tell you something, pal," Jake replied. "My brother
and I aren't going to do any tasks for your candy ass. We're going
back through that over-sized lava lamp of yours right now. Let's go,
Elwood."

Jake grabbed Elwood by the sleeve and turned him back the way they had
came. No sooner had they started walking than they suddenly stopped on
a dime.

"No, I can't let you do that," Murgorath spoke barely loud enough to
be heard as he walked slowly down the stairs. "If you go through that
portal without my assistance, you'll be randomly transported to
another dimension, another space, another time. And chances are,
either you'll share the same material space as something or someone
else and automatically end up dead or you'll find yourself in a place
inhospitable to mankind. And of course, if random chance won't deposit
you in such a place, I can. Now, are you willing to cooperate or would
you rather just . die?"

Elwood suddenly found himself capable of movement again. He and Jake
slowly turned to look at the man who had so easily taken control of
them moments before. Had they not been wearing sunglasses, the
newfound fear in their eyes would have been apparent. "So." Elwood
began. "If we do this for you, willya return us home again?"

Murgorath nodded and smiled. "Yes," he said. "I promise."


***


Groggily, Dave reentered the world of consciousness. He wasn't
immediately able to open his eyes. Instead he continued to lay back
and attempt to center and reorient himself with himself. He had the
sensation he was inside of a moving vehicle of some sort. His lower
back, buttocks, and feet were lying against something cold and
metallic, while his upper back and head rested against something soft
and warm. a moment later, he distinguished it as a lap-and when he
felt a warm, familiar hand brush softly through his hair, he knew
whose.
Dave forced his eyes open and saw, though the world remained blurry to
him, the face of Celes. From what he could make out, worry and
newfound relief covered her face.

"C-Celes?" he whispered with difficulty. His voice still had not
returned to him, and even the whisper was difficult to manage. She was
still alive, and so was he. He wasn't quite sure which surprised him
more.

"Dave." Celes returned warmly. She pressed him against her tightly and
no more words were exchanged between the two for a long while. And
that was fine. Dave drank in her warmth and, once he had the strength
to, he even attempted to return the embrace. Then pain surged through
his right arm and he could not hold back a cry of pain.

Celes pulled back and looked at him. He winced and attempted to smile
at her.

"Dave." Celes repeated, looking him over with concern. "What
happened?"

Dave pulled himself up with one arm and risked a glance at his other
arm. A long white cast covered it from the shoulder down. and stopped
at his wrist. His gun hand no longer existed. It was no dream. His
days as a Gunslinger were over.

He winced again and lowered himself back down to Celes' lap. "Citan
and I had a bit of a disagreement," he said sadly. "I don't know what
happened after that. We went away our separate ways and. I guess I
must have blacked out."

"Citan cut off your hand?"

"Well, yeah. but to be fair, I did shoot him first," Dave spoke
lightly, and he wished to Bob he felt as decidedly neutral as he
pretended to be.

"So. is he dead?"

"I don't have the slightest. he was bleeding pretty badly when we went
our separate ways, but then so was I. and I'm still alive. Say, where
are we?"

Celes looked around before answering. "I don't quite know. I caught a
brief glance of our kidnappers. They were short and furry, and they
hold these big, funny-looking guns that. they use to hold us at bay.
That is, paralyze us. They hold these remotes to control us and they
wear dirty brown robes. They're the strangest creatures I've ever
seen.or heard. Their voices are high-pitched.and.well, strange."

"Oh, great. Jawas," Dave sighed, immediately catching on. "Well, Citan
*did* say we were near Alt.starwars. but." he pulled himself back up
and glanced about the surrounding room. Robots of all shapes and
sizes, as could be expected, were sprawled around the room around the
various misplaced walls and random pieces of metal discarded around
the floor. What he didn't expect to see was the large number of other
humans stationed in various places around the room - some of them
talking, some of them kissing, some of them playing cards on the backs
of overturned robots, and some of them sleeping.

"Celes, they never collected human beings before. They never could.
In the original movie, they only collected robots. to sell."

Celes looked just as confused as Dave now, though for different
reasons. "I never saw Star Wars," she explained. "What does this
mean?"

"It means." Dave's voice quite suddenly sounded entirely hopeless with
the understanding that suddenly dawned on him, and he leaned back
against Celes' shoulder uneasily, "that maybe Citan was right about
me."


***


They had traveled on foot all day and managed to finally arrive at a
small town on the outlying borders surrounding AGFF City as the sun
rolled down to the west, with the final result of a beautiful, though
often frustrating, bright orangish-red sunset. The mind-bending heat
of the day had been replaced by an unexpected chilly and windy
quality. This probably was a result of the ominous dark gray fog that
had now descended over the Bay, to the east.

Jonny would have thought about this and found it particularly strange
for the season if he weren't so exhausted, but the earlier events of
the day paired with the high amount of walking he had been doing
lately left him barely strong enough to keep his head up and his feet
moving.

When they got to the Travelers' Inn in the town, it had been Griff who
had gotten them separate rooms beside each other and Griff who had
dealt with all of the technicalities. Jonny hadn't ever said it to
him, but he was really happy to have a friend like Griff. No words had
been exchanged between them about it but Griff had seen the tired look
in Jonny's eyes, repressed though it might have been, and from that
moment forward taken on every responsibility that was there to be
taken.

Now Jonny was alone, finally alone, and he had the entire room to
himself. After receiving the keycard from Griff, he had stumbled
wearily up the stairs, nearly jammed the keycard in the door, and
slammed the door shut behind him. He now staggered over to the bed,
stripping layers of ragged, sweaty clothing off of his body as he did
so, and collapsed upon the bed. He was asleep before his head hit the
pillow.

And he dreamed..


***


Dave was awakened with a painful electrical jolt, and his dream -
something to do with green, grassy plains, Celes, and a whole lot of
nudity - quickly disappeared. His automatic trained reaction kicked
in, and, had he any control over his body, had he still any gun on his
belt, and had he a hand to pull the trigger with, he might've gotten
away from his captors.

This, however, was not the case, and he was pulled roughly to his feet
by a number of small, furry Jawas, each holding a big rifle-like gun
with a butt resembling that of a trumpet. Dave couldn't even blink,
for his eyes were quite suddenly frozen wide open, and he found that
fact quite unnerving.

One of the Jawas held a remote in its hand that looked like it had
come straight out of a commercial advertising remote-controlled VCRs
back in the eighties. With one press of a button, Dave's legs started
moving - a fact that he found even more unnerving - and he started
walking toward a bright desert area in front of him where many humans
had already been gathered. He didn't see Celes, but he expected she
was probably still being woken up in the same manner as he. He had
caught a glimpse as he woke up of her still sitting in a cross-legged
position, sleeping against one of the odd, misplaced walls in the
prison trailer of the Jawas.

Dave's discomfort grew when he was exposed once again to the bright,
overwhelmingly hot and humid sun that he had almost died in hours
before. His only pleasure was in how low it had gotten in the sky, and
the remaining heat had gone down quite a bit. The Jawas took special
care in keeping him faced away from the sun - to keep, he reasoned
miserably, the products in good quality, so the Jawas could make more
money off of them.

Dave caught a brief glimpse of Celes being led out of the prison
trailer as well, before he was turned away from her and put into line
beside another human product being held - it seemed - by the same
force that held Dave at bay.

There he was forced to stand for what seemed an eternity, unable to
blink or look either direction, his gaze focused directly in front of
him. Jawas passed by either side, jabbering wildly with each other. If
the situation wasn't so dire and, indeed, if he could, Dave would have
laughed at the high pitch of their talk.

Finally, in the distance, Dave could make out the sound of hoarse,
male voices laughing wildly and shouting at the Jawas. Dave wished he
could wince, for they didn't sound, as he had hoped, like savory
people. He was hoping for a Luke Skywalker and Uncle Owen, but that
didn't seem to be in the cards for him or Celes. Instead, they sounded
like stereotypical rednecks, and that could be a problem.

In the next few minutes, a high number of ragged men and a low number
of ragged women passed through the area in front of Dave, surrounded
on all sides by jabbering Jawas. Most of them didn't even glance at
him - which was understandable, considering how many human "products"
he had seen in the prison trailer - he assumed they were slavers.

At one point, Dave heard a louder, more raucous and wild-sounding
voice, far to his left, and he felt an immediate need to cringe,
though he didn't have enough control of his body to even do that.

"Give me that!" the voice said, probably addressing a Jawa, and a
moment later, the owner of the voice broke out in a disgusting nasal
laugh. "Hey you!" the voice cried to someone. "Bark! C'mon, Bark!"

Some poor human product did as bid, and the result sounded pained,
forced, and as uncomfortable as the rest of them, including Dave, were
undoubtedly feeling.

The raucous man laughed again, then continued. "Sit down, put your
head between your knees, and spew! Spew!"

Dave heard a loud, choking sound as again the human product did as he
was bid. He also heard the disgusted sighs of other slavers, obviously
people with some sense of humanity. But, as far as he could tell, no
one did anything to stop it. His only comfort was that the human
product seemed to be at the end of his torture, for, in the next
moment, the owner of the raucous voice directed his attention
elsewhere and gave another human product the same treatment.

Eventually, much to Dave's chagrin, the raucous individual approached
him. The man looked as disgusting and ugly as Dave had expected him to
be. His face, once handsome to be sure, was scarred and unshaven, his
dark eyes glittered with an unreleased anger and hatred, his nose was
crooked, and his hair was messy and gray, though otherwise he looked
like he might've been in his mid forties. Automatically, the man
struck Dave as being one of those elementary school bullies who never
grew up. Which made it all the worse that he now focused his attention
upon Dave.

"Look at you," he announced grandly. "Look at you! You're a mess, kid,
a dirty mess."

As if to accentuate this point, the man promptly spit on Dave's face,
just narrowly missing his eye. Dave's rage grew, but he still didn't
have any freedom to move.

"You've got too much dignity, I can see it in your eyes," the man
continued. "So, c'mon, kid, Bark! Bark at me until I tell you to
stop!"

"You are a disgusting result of evolution," Dave barked. "And you make
me sick. I hope you die. I really, really hope you die. You're
vermin."

Mind you, this all came out as barks and woofs, but from the amused
and angry look on the man's face, Dave knew he got the message.

"Oh, really?" the man let out another raucous laugh. "What do you
want, kid, you wanna fight me?"

_Yes,_ thought Dave, _I do. I do want to fight you. Please, let me
fight you. Maybe I can even strangle you to death with my bare hands.
Errr, hand._

"Then do it," the man exclaimed, slamming his hands against his own
chest. "Fight me."

The second the man let out the "me" in "fight me", Dave focused all of
his attention upon doing just that. And for a few moments, he felt he
did have a good degree of control over his own body, focusing such
attention upon doing what he was told to do. He charged the man with
his fist and imagined fist raised and faked a shot at the man's face.
The man moved to intercept that blow, and Dave moved in to punch him
in the stomach with the other hand before he realized he didn't have
another hand. The same pain in the arm that he had been struck with
while embracing Celes before grew again as, at the same time, Dave's
shame over his new handicap grew and the man's fist grew in his
vision.

Dave flew backwards and crashed upon the burning sands. He cried out,
raised his arms to get them off of the desert sand, and felt the same
terrible pain in his right arm again. He fell back onto the sands and
quit there. The sand burned his exposed skin, but by then he was
feeling dead enough that it no longer mattered.

"What a wuss," the man muttered, walking off to inspect more slaves.

It was only when the man actually got to the next slave he would
harass that Dave felt any need to pull himself back up to his feet.
And that was only because Dave suspected - no, knew - that it was
Celes.

"Hey, aren'tcha cute?" the man said lustily. "You look like you would
make quite a fine slave. Show me your breasts!"

At the sound of that, Dave exerted his will to continue to follow the
order he had been given previously. With his one remaining hand, he
pulled himself back up onto his knees, and, with work, managed to pull
himself from there up onto his feet. He turned to glare at the man.
All around Dave, slavers just stood there with glazed expressions in
their eyes, and a few of them even looked hopeful for Dave's cause.

Celes, meanwhile, had unbuttoned her shirt, though her movements were
choppy and controlled, and she pulled it off, exposing for the most
part that which the man had ordered. From behind, Dave marched
directly at him.

"Kiss m." the man began, completely unaware of Dave's looming
presence. However, when Dave grabbed him by the shoulder, whirled him
around, and kneed him in the groin, he very quickly became aware of
his presence. Hacking and coughing, the man dropped the remote to the
sands. Dave kicked him in the face, and sent him flying. Then he went
for the remote.

Dave had just barely grabbed the remote and looked it over (on it,
there were five buttons: One said Stop, one said Walk, one said Follow
All Orders, one said De-Power, and one, finally, said Freedom) when he
was hit by five bolts of electricity and blacked out.


 

---

This program has been interrupted so I can remind you how Fooey Relm.
was. She was very Fooey, before her Defenders failed her. And so was
Celes. I mean, what Fooey sluts! How can anybody be so very fooey?

And Craxton. all of the Defenders are Fooey, too, which means you,
Bob, and all the rest who defend her are Fooey. Those who don't, they
are Gods with wisdom and power not awarded to the Fooey. But you're
Fooey. Fooey, Fooey, Fooey. Okay, I'm done now.


 

---

No one ever really thinks about the pleasures of wincing because, no
matter what else you are stripped of, for the most part you can always
wince. However, when even that is stripped of you, it quickly becomes
apparent how much wincing is part of survival. Celes, much like Dave
before her, was currently experiencing this phenomenon. Every nerve in
her body was desperately begging to wince at the sight of Dave lying
on the ground, being kicked into oblivion by the disgusting slaver man
who had previously suffered a blow to his testosterone when Dave did
exactly what he had been told.

Only, Dave had not remembered the Jawas. Or, more specifically, the
trumpet-like guns in their hands. Or, even more specifically than
that, the bolts of light that exited the trumpet-like guns in their
hands when fired. One blast with one of those guns by one of those
Jawas would be enough to knock any of them into unconsciousness, as
Celes had seen first hand earlier. So, the moment she saw six Jawas
approaching Dave from behind, she had known then that Dave was about
to be out of the action. That moment also was when she first became
aware of how much she wanted to wince.

Presently, Dave was lying on the ground unconscious and the angry
slaver who had been defeated justly moments before was now extracting
his revenge by kicking the poor ex-gunslinger in the face. Repeatedly.
Dave's nose was crooked and bleeding, his face was beginning to get
bruised, and his lips were bloody.

She certainly hoped the slaver man would hurry up and stop. Aside from
her deep love for Dave and her worry over his current pains, she
wanted to stop wanting to wince and that could only happen if that
blasted slaver would get over it.

When the slaver didn't show any signs of stopping, however, several
Jawas stepped in the way and started begging him to stop in their
high-pitched whines. He kicked several of them aside and sent another
to its back with a brutal shove.

Next up was another slaver, who had obviously seen enough. Of them
all, this slaver looked the most intelligent, though that really
wasn't saying much. Many of the slavers didn't even notice the current
circumstances and those that did either stared blankly or seemed to be
enjoying it. Leaving only this one slaver and a few given others
traveling with him to be disgusted by it.

"Strider, for God's sake, stop it!" the man cried, pulling the slaver
man away from Dave. "You asked him to fight you, which he did. Let it
go!"

"Get away from me, you wimp! This slave has attacked his master, and
he needs to be taught discipline!"

With that, Strider pushed the other man away from him and turned to
start kicking Dave again. But the other slaver was relentless. He
grabbed Strider's shoulder and cried, "You are not allowed to mistreat
or abuse the slaves! It has been proven that clones feel pain just
like you and I, and it as an immoral act to."

"You think I care about your 'immoral acts?'" Strider cried, whirling
around to face the other man. The man held his ground bravely, but
Celes could tell he was trembling in the face of Strider's rage. "Get
out of my face, or I'll make you wish you had!"

"No," the man stubbornly refused. "You are acting against the
regulations set by the Thirteenth President of the Nation of Tatooine,
and you are presenting yourself as a threat to the business of the
other slavers in the area. If you do not halt this behaviour, I will
personally file a."

Strider grabbed the man and pulled him toward him. The man stopped and
gasped upon seeing the small handgun in Strider's hands. Every living
being in the area immediately winced or at least wanted to at the loud
bang of the gun going off. A bullet flew through the man's back and he
fell onto his hands and knees.

"Oh, God, man, stop!" cried one of the slavers watching this exchange
and he and two others rushed toward their companion as Strider placed
the butt of the gun against the first man's forehead. and pressed the
trigger.

The three men rushed to the body of their companion and held him up.
One of them screamed for someone to go get help, one of them
continually screamed, "Oh God, My God, and Holy Shit," though not
necessarily in that order, and the last one just held the dead man's
head in his arms, remaining altogether silent.

It was at about that time that Strider lowered the gun to these three
men and fired two shots. The first was directed at the head of the one
screaming about his God and Holy Shit, immediately silencing him, and
the second was directed at the head of the one not saying very much at
all. They both went down, and had the second one being making any
noise when he was shot, he would have been silenced then.

The remaining one, who had been previously screaming for someone to go
get help, simply stood up and backed away. He was whimpering and
staring at the corpses of his companions. Occasionally, Celes could
hear an "Oh my god." out from under the man's breath.

Of the surrounding crowd of slavers, only a few were smart enough to
run off, screaming at the top of their lungs. Most of them merely
stood and stared.

Strider calmly walked the direction of the retreating man and slowly,
dangerously, raised his handgun in the direction of the man's head.

"No! Please! Don't kill me! Please!" the pitiful man wailed.

"Why not?" Strider asked.

The man seemed somewhat taken aback at this, as if he were planning to
just be one of those powerless horror movie victims who die whether
they like it or not. And, as such, all that came out of his mouth was
a stutter.

"I. I." the man stuttered.

Strider shot him in the head. The man collapsed to the ground, and his
secret masochistic lifelong dream - to die bloodily - was fulfilled.
Strider, however, had no way of knowing this, and even if he did,
would not have cared. "Wrong answer," he said.

Now the crowd - slow to the uptake - took the cue and ran off in
different directions, screaming their bloody heads off. Strider fired
a number of random shots into the mob and each shot easily hit and
killed some poor slaver, simply due to the close proximity of everyone
running that particular direction. Finally, either the crowd of
slavers got too far away from him, separated too far to be sure kills,
or Strider ran out of bullets, for he lowered his arm and put the gun
back in his belt.

"Ah. That was fun," he said. He was breathing heavily, as if he had
been exerted by the massacre, and his clothing was soaked with sweat.
For a long moment, all he did was breath heavily and look around at
those who had not fled the area yet. "Those" being all of the slave
clones currently being held back by remote control, all of the Jawas
who happened to be selling those slave clones currently being held
back by remote control, and, well, the corpses.

No one in the area moved for a long moment. Even if more than 2/3 of
the entire population of remaining people could move, they probably
wouldn't have at this moment, simply due to the shock of the recent
situation. Of course, if they could move, they would've run off
screaming with all of the slavers. And, in the absence of merchandise
in their possession, the Jawas would not have any reason to stay and
would probably leave promptly. Really, though, if the merchandise
wasn't being held back from fleeing, the Jawas wouldn't have any
business, and probably wouldn't be in this given situation to begin
with.

Strider looked up and stared at the sky contemptuously. "Shut up,
narrator," he growled.

Okay, okay. Sorry. Sheesh.

"All right," Strider announced, looking directly at Celes with a gaze
that made her feel uncomfortable and wish she could move to quiver and
express this discomfort. "I want her," he said, then looked away from
her and at some slaves out of Celes' immediate line of vision. "I want
him," Strider added, then looked to another slave, repeated that he
wanted him too, and paused for a long moment.

Celes could hear her heart beating in her chest as she awaited his
next choice. If he chose to take Dave as well, she would be unhappy.
If he didn't, she still would be unhappy, for entirely different
reasons. It was a lose/lose situation. Celes hated situations like
this.

"And him, why not," Strider said, lightly kicking Dave in the stomach.
"He'll be a good defender for my castle, if he'll only learn some
respect."

If she could have, Celes would have groaned at this. Dave and she were
now both in the hands of a psychotic maniac.


***


AGFFSDIAIA Agent Jonny Horrocks cautiously stepped up to the large
wooden door and stopped inches from it, his ears pricked. He heard no
voices, only a gentle shuffling in the back of the room. Like someone
was going through the papers. But he hadn't been assigned to stop
those who might have an interest in the secrets of the AGFFSDIAIA that
could be found in those papers. As far as he knew, no one with any
interest in them whatsoever was in the building, except, of course,
for himself.

Jonny waited one long moment, laser pistol raised, and took in a deep
breath. He hated this part.

He kicked away the door with one quick motion and pointed the pistol
into the air in front of him. The room was dark, and had obviously
been for many years. The light bulb was long burned out and the file
cabinet was overturned and broken. There did not seem to be anything
or anybody immediate that he would have any reason to aim his laser
pistol at, and so, for a long moment, all it was aimed at was the air
in front of him.

Then he heard it again. The shuffling from the back of the room, like
a rat were in the files themselves, and he tensed up again. It came
from the direction of the overturned file cabinet.

Jonny stepped toward the file cabinet, his stomach tightening up as he
did so. Something was making an awful stench from the cabinet and he
had an awful sense he was not about to like what he was about to see.
But it was his job, whether he liked it or not.

His finger was on the pistol when he leaned over the file cabinet
drawer the stench was permeating from. There was nothing to shoot at.
But there was a rat.

A dead rat. A long dead rat. Even more horrifically, making the
shuffling sound, a whole family of bloody leeches surrounded and
covered the rat's corpse and Jonny felt a sudden inclination to vomit.
He leaped backwards and kicked the drawer shut as quickly as he could.

Just as he was considering actually, genuinely vomiting, he heard
movement and urgent voices in the room beyond the one he was in now.
He gulped powerfully, prayed to keep his lunch a little longer, and
rushed toward the door. He heard the sound of urgent movement, and
heard one pair of feet rushing away.

"Shit," Jonny growled audibly and kicked the door in.

The door flew aside and several people standing around a small table
looked toward Jonny, fear reading in their eyes. At the end of the
room, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the ninja Quiza rushing through
a door to the outside, carrying in her hands one of the Orbs of Power.

One of the other people in the room was Kim. And as soon as she
recognized Jonny, her fear was replaced by unprepared shock. "Jonny!
What are you doing here?"

Jonny held the laser pistol up in the air and aimed it at Kim. Aside
from retrieving the Orbs, his mission was to kill Agent Wild. He had
to follow orders.

Before a surprised Kim could move to defend herself, Jonny had already
pulled the trigger. A thin beam of fast-moving orange light shot
across the room and hit Kim directly in the head. Even before she hit
the ground, Jonny knew her to be dead- for her head was no longer
connected to her body.

Two of the three remaining men grabbed the remaining Orbs of power
from the dark altar upon which they had been set and rushed off toward
the doors on the far side of the room. The one remaining man known as Kuibob, charged at Jonny, both of his swords held high.

A number of things happened at once. Three laser beams flew from
behind Jonny into the swordman's stomach and he fell back, screaming.
He dropped both blades to the floor and collapsed upon them. Three
shadowy AGFFSDIAIA Agents leaped from the shadows, pulled the fallen
man to his feet, and promptly shot him. Several times. All the while,
Sean's cold lifeless voice barked incoherent orders over the radios,
but static was building up quick.

As the two other men neared the door, they quickly dropped the Orbs of
Power to the floor and screamed with pain. Their hands were scalded
red from the heat and the Orbs themselves were a mix of whirling hot
colors, out of control with the elements. All at once, Jonny wanted to
run, but he knew it was far, far too late.

The two Orbs of Power exploded in a bright burst of light and
vaporized the two men nearest them. And the wall and door behind them.
And the floor surrounding them.

The explosions of light seemed almost to pause to consider then, and
finally burst at the speed of light out at the surrounding castle,
vaporizing everything in their path.

Jonny saw, from far away, the entire castle he had been inside of
exploding in three different directions- three different explosions.
Even as they extended, they did not seem to slow or lose any power-
indeed, they seemed to gain power, if that was at all possible, and
showed no signs of dissipating. The explosion of light shot past AGFF
City faster than one's eye could blink, and left. nothing, except
charred, broken buildings and trees.

The abandoned Castle of Baron, the conquered desert town of Kaipo, the
Kingdom of Fabul, the frozen city of Narshe and the thriving Kingdom
of Figaro, all destroyed in seconds. And still, the explosive light
grew, and it destroyed more. But it never slowed.

Jonny awoke, sweat beading down his forehead, his eyes wide, and
realized then that he could never again follow the orders of the
AGFFSDIAIA.


***


It is a very unnerving sensation, waking up and finding oneself
walking in a steady march down an unfamiliar forested hill, despite a
terrible aching pain in one's right ankle and with one's eyes already
seemingly glued wide open.

Just ask Dave. He was frightened out of his wits when it happened to
him.

It also is terribly painful - certainly not the type of experience
your average tourist would enjoy or appreciate nearly as much as
getting hit by a natural disaster of some sort or getting shot by the
locals with poisonous darts.

Think for a moment about the pain you suffer when your tongue's been
hanging out of your mouth for a good long while and is dry - doesn't
that sound painful? Imagine it ten times worse. That is what feels
like, except ten times worse than even that. Just for the sake of
adding salt to the wound, imagine having grit and dirt in your eyes
from being kicked repeatedly in the face on hot desert sands by a big,
burly, rough, and angry slaver.

Poor Dave.

Dave could hear the loud rhythmic footsteps of others marching just
behind him, and he strained to look to see who they were, hoping
desperately that Celes was not among them. But as he quickly found
out, he still could not budge his neck even a bit and his eyes were
still frozen in place to gaze at what lay directly in front of him,
and pretty much only that.

After the initial shock of coming to consciousness in such an unusual
circumstance and finding he could not wince or scream, Dave did his
best to relax into his new role - at least temporarily - of zombie
slave. And so, as best he could given his current predicament, he took
in his surroundings and made a conscious attempt to absorb what the
heck had just happened to him.

Slowly, it all came back to him. The fight with Citan, in which he
lost his most useful hand. The Reunion with Celes in the moving
warehouse of the Jawas. The sale the Jawas held, in which Dave and the
other Clones were so terribly dehumanized, made literally into pieces
of meat, living products to serve the pigs of a higher "class". And
the savage beating he had taken under the fist of the vulgar control
freak, the slaver known as Strider.

Speaking of Strider, where was he? While Dave certainly did not enjoy
the pleasures of his company, it worried him when he could see not
Strider or Celes, because it meant they might be in the same place.
For all Dave knew, he could be having his way with her even as Dave
marched. and he could do nothing to protect her. Neither could she.

But all Dave could see was the forest path in front of him and the
wide range of never-ending trees and brush, for hour upon hour as the
sun slowly went down to the west and the chirping of the birds - free
and ignorant - died down to a quiet murmur.

Wherever he now marched, there was one positive aspect that he had
overlooked in his infinite pain earlier. It was cool. Normally, he
would be shivering loudly and despairing over the freezing cold. But
now, as he marched, he wasn't so certain he'd be doing so even if he
could. Not after the recent torture he had undertaken in the heat of
the day, on the burning desert sand of alt.starwars.

It was getting dark now, he noticed. The grayish-white sky had yet to
yield to the darkness and little pinpricks of light that made up the
night sky, but it was still getting pretty late in the evening. The
surrounding trees and branches were vividly dark and colorless and
cast shadows of imagination over Dave's face.

At some point, Dave heard an uncaring pair of feet crackling loudly
over the fallen leaves and broken branches of the surrounding trees,
and the owner of these feet did not seem to make any effort at all to
remain silent, as he approached at a much higher rate than Dave or any
of the other slaves were capable of walking.

As Dave had sadly and very gladly suspected, the man approaching and
coming to a halt directly in front of him was Strider. Wherever Celes
was now, Strider wasn't, and that reassured Dave a little bit.

"All right. Stop, stop," Strider announced with his hands held out in
front of him the general direction of Dave and those half-marching,
half shuffling behind him. The shadows of approaching nightfall
clothed Strider properly in darkness, and for a moment, Dave he could
barely see any features of his face.

Dave's legs slowed to a halt, and he could hear the slow shuffling of
those behind him also cease. Strider looked them all over - whoever
they "all" were - for a long moment before speaking.

"We are approaching Castle Lokuchare, my family estate," Strider
announced proudly. "There you will be shown to your quarters, and
introduced to your new friends. You will join me for dinner promptly,
and I will inform you of your new life career. You will not escape,
you will not rebel, and you will only do what I tell you to, and not a
bit more. Got that?"

Without waiting for a response, Strider turned his back to them and
continued his fast pace down the dark forested hill. "March!" barked
just before he disappeared entirely from Dave's view.

And so, Dave and the other slaves behind him trodded lifelessly down
that long hill for what Dave estimated to be another five minutes or
so, though he knew deep down that his estimate stood a good chance of
being far off. It didn't matter.

After whatever period of time it had been passed, he finally arrived
at the bottom of the forested hill and for another similarly lengthy
period of time, he walked a flat, well-kept winding path through the
forest, until finally he could see, a good distance ahead of him, an
opening from the thick forest, a wide, empty road, a green grassy
plain on either side of it, and an unusually gigantic, adamantite
fortress of gray limestone.

If he could have, Dave would have gaped. The building - or rather, the
buildings - were of an unusual make, featuring tall rocky towers
resembling those of a castle, rising high into the sky, yet the front
of it looked nothing like a castle; with wide golden doors at its
front, reaching perhaps ten or eleven feet up and maybe twice that
across, resembling stylistically, an oriental monastery - a fact that
was [extended.] by the twin dragon statues - both made entirely of
gold - placed on either side of the gate.

Stylistically, the upper levels resembled what one might expect to see
in an old corny Hollywood horror flick about a haunted mansion. The
grayish-white walls, contrasting beautifully with the surrounding
clouds of the same color also contrasted in a particularly different
way with the many windows mere feet apart from each other in most
cases, of each level.

The windows - or, rather, the rooms behind the windows - were
seemingly completely pitch black. No matter how close Dave got to
them, he could see no light or immediate features within the rooms and
soon could see nothing at all regarding windows, for he got simply too
close to the main building itself to see the windows without moving
his eyes, which was, as usual, a complete impossibility.

It wasn't too long before all that was within Dave's current line of
vision was the gateway with the golden doors and thin beige
surrounding. For a number of milliseconds, Dave was almost bored. Then
the doors opened.

The doors apparently were automated. That was the first thing Dave
noticed. While there most certainly was someone behind the door - a
tall, thin, physically fit man - he was far enough away from it, it
was a fair certainty that it wasn't he who opened it or it was indeed,
as already mentioned, automated. Or both, even.

The second thing Dave noticed was about the man. Or, more
specifically, the small, black, circular tube he held in his hand
which Dave recognized as a very common form of Lightsaber. Mere
consciousness had first delivered to Dave awareness of the existence
of this man, which in turn had led to Dave's first observation. Yet
again, awareness of the man himself brought about an observation.

Because of the success of his first to observances, whose success Dave
accredited to the man's presence, for a third observation, he turned
his focus to the man himself.

From the man's facial features, eyes, and overall color, Dave could
tell the man was of oriental descent. He had short, black hair, cut in
a style resembling that of a military commander, his arms and legs
were very muscular, and, if the glazed look in his eyes was any
indication, he was just as much of a zombie slave as the rest of them.

Not that he didn't put up a good show. He acted confident enough, and
when he spoke, his voice had a very condescending note to it.

"So, you're the master's new. machines, are you?" he said with a
sneer, stepping forward. "Common. You're just as common as the rest of
them."

As before, he sounded as if he had freewill aplenty. It wasn't that.
It was the steady, unmoving gaze he kept on whatever happened to be
directly in front of him at any given time. And, plus, though his eyes
stared, they never seemed to blink or focus on anyone or anything.
Dead giveaway.

"Greetings," the man began without changing his tone of voice. "I'm
going to be your guide. And I'll soon, OFFICIALLY, be your superior.
Welcome to the home you will keep until you cease to breathe. With the
medical attention you will be receiving, that should be a good long
time."

He paused. "Come," he said, turning to the surrounding entry room and
pointed toward the nearest staircase. "I will lead you to your
quarters."

The entry room was, as far as Dave could tell in the limited time he
was there, like any number of other entry rooms he had been in when
visiting mansions and other expensive houses of two floors or more,
except much bigger and more ornamented, not to mention overdone. The
room smelled of "fake." Fake talent in fake pictures hung on fake
brightly-painted walls. Fake novels in fake bookcases with fake
pictures on each shelf. And a fake chandelier, too.

What made all of these things fake was not the quality of them, which
was fine, but the fact that they were all put there to emphasize an
atmosphere that was just not there. It was as if someone had lit a
number of incense sticks to permeate the air with a stench of
dysfunction, and placed them all around the room just before Dave
arrived. Despite the look of being a perfectly elegant estate, Dave
felt it from moment one to be a sweat-filled warehouse, where
hundreds-perhaps thousands-of helpless slaves labored until it was far
past physically survivable, kept alive only by drugs. It was brutal
even to be around.

When the man spoke his command pointed one finger toward the
staircase, Dave found his legs once again beginning to move to follow
this order, seemingly of their own accord. Dave made a half-hearted
attempt to resist, found it did not work and, with an imaginary sigh,
gave up.


***


When the man led Dave and those behind him up the center staircase,
down a long hallway, and through the door farthest to the left, Dave
mentally mapped it out, thinking it might come to good use later on
to know how to move about in this giant building. When the man led him
through various doorways in a number of similar small white rooms,
walked him through a giant dining room and into an equally
intimidating library, Dave began to become confused. When the man
pushed through a bookcase to show a secret door, walked them from
there down a nearly pitch black tunnel to a door with a single dimly
lit light bulb hanging above it, through the door, up a lit stairway,
down a long dark hall, through one of several doors, down a stairway,
and out through another door leading to another dining room, Dave's
brain overloaded with information, and he abruptly lost consciousness.


***


_Goddammit, not again!_ were the first thoughts that passed Dave's
head when he regained consciousness - presumably only a few moments
later - almost as abruptly as he lost it.

His eyes, painfully dry, were still wide open and staring, his right
ankle still ached like there were no tomorrow, and he still had
absolutely no control over anything beside his mind itself.

They were now walking through a massive forested courtyard whose
beauty was only overshadowed by the atmosphere of the place. The
ground, grassy and well-kept, was covered with red and brown leaves
from the thin, healthy Pine trees that scattered the area. Massive
stone archways were placed on each side of the courtyard, in front of
one or more buildings. It was beautiful.

The man walking in front of them did not, from all indications,
overall seem to be noticing the beauty surrounding them, keeping up a
speedy, unchanging pace. Of course, Dave wasn't in any position to
fault him for it. He wasn't thinking of the beauty surrounding them,
either.

Instead, the words "This is Pathetic" went through his mind as an
ongoing mantra, and for, he mused, a perfectly good reason.

The reason Dave considered the situation so pathetic was as follows:
since the beginning of the giant adventure he found himself suddenly
thrown into a few weeks before, he hadn't done much. He hadn't fought
many battles, shot many people, anything like that. Instead, he had
repeatedly gotten wounded, knocked unconscious, and/or thrown into
enemy hands, only to be rescued by someone else just in time to be
knocked unconscious and taken prisoner again. Even at Mr. X's
Fortress, of everyone, he was the one to be wounded, knocked
unconscious, and forced to remain at camp while the others went off
and adventured. It just irritated him a bit, that's all.

Who would free him next, he wondered? And then, who would he be
kidnapped by? Or would he just fall out of a train again?

_Enough,_ he thought now. _I'm just being a pessimist, nothing more. I
am sure things will brighten up for me soon enough._

The man walked through one of the stone archways and right to the door
of one of the least handsome buildings Dave had seen since he entered
the area of Strider's property.

I had old brick walls, resembling those of a schoolhouse, but not
windows. It had a flat rock roof, and the building itself overall was
about twenty feet high. Worst of all, it looked overwhelmingly normal
and low-class. Certainly the least elegant of all the buildings there.

_That is,_ Dave continued mentally, _if things are ever bright for me
again._

_Oh, shut up, self,_ his inner optimist thought weakly. But his inner
optimist was beginning to feel very, very small indeed, and the
situation was growing only more and more depressing as time went by.

Even the room, though well lit, was depressing. The lighting existed
seemingly for the sole purpose of making the hundred or so slaves -
looking defeated, battered, broken - clearer in Dave's vision. A good
number of them stood up when the door opened, and stared silently,
sadly, when Dave and the others marched in. They evidently maintained
a small level of physical control, though in their pitiful state, it
didn't do them any good.

Dave's self-appointed guide disappeared from his own limited vision
for a long moment when he walked back toward the door. Dave listened
intently, and he heard the man's boots shuffling against the ground.
Milliseconds later, he heard the door swing wholly open. Then, for
what seemed an eternity to the trapped and retired Gunslinger, there
was silence.

When someone finally did speak, it was Dave's so-called guide. This
time, his voice almost seemed to forget to include a trace of
sardonic, mocking attitude, and simply sounded hoarse.

"Turn," it said.

Dave did.

It was at this point that Dave finally got to see the others who had
been marching behind him and inspired his curiosity when he could not
turn his neck to see who they were. There were three of them.

One of them was Celes. He could tell that straight off. Her hair was a
bit ragged and clothing dishevelled, but as far as he could tell, she
was otherwise fine.

The other two Dave did not recognize. They were both men, one was
black, one was white. The rest were little green men. Of course, there
were only two, which meant the little green men currently were
bloopers in the space/time continuum. Dave only saw them for a brief
millisecond before they ceased to exist, and even then, he wasn't
aware he had seen them, because there were none.

Sorry. Back to your regular scheduled programming.

The black man was not tall, but he was not short either. He was of
about medium height and build, perhaps five foot six or seven. He had
short black hair and a clean-shaven, albeit mildly wrinkled and
scarred, face. He was probably in his early-to-mid forties.

The white man was not tall. But he was most definitely short. Four
foot something at best. He was either a midget or a Hobbit. And if he
was a Hobbit, he was actually unusually tall. He had short,
golden-blond hair, resembling that of the legendary Ramza of AGFF
Folklore. If he was Human, he was perhaps in his late twenties, early
thirties. If he was a Hobbit, he was much, much older.

Dave's self-appointed guide also stood there, by the door, looking as
haughty and snide as he had when he first greeted them at the gates at
the front of the estate. Obviously, he was back in performance mode.

"All right, listen up," he demanded of them. "Because of the late
hour, the Master has graciously delayed dinner a good while so that
the new. workers - which means you - can join him for an introductory
dinner. And so, you have been given fifteen minutes to sit down, find
a bunk, and socialize, WITHOUT REBELLING, SPEAKING OF REBELLION,
CAUSING TURMOIL OF ANY SORT, OR DOING ANYTHING ELSE WHICH YOU KNOW,
DEEP DOWN INSIDE, THE MASTER WOULD NOT LIKE. Is that clear?"

Dave felt some part of his psyche shutting down at that last
statement, as if his very mind was just another limb, to be controlled
and moved about at someone else's discretion.

"Good," the guide continued without waiting for a visible reaction.
"Some of His servants will arrive soon to pick you up. BE READY."

When the guide left the room and slammed the door shut behind him,
Dave, Celes, and the two men accompanying them all simultaneously fell
flat on their faces.

"Owww." Dave murmured as soon as he was able, pulling himself up from
the ground with one hand and rubbing his head with the stub of the
other. He remembered a Vonnegut book he had read recently.

"That must be what a Timequake feels like," he muttered.

Around him, Celes and the two men were regaining their wits and
picking themselves up off of the floor with their newfound freewill.

The crowd of slaves who had chosen to stand up was doing something,
too. As a whole, they seemed to be approaching fairly rapidly, and
through the crowd, a wave of quiet murmuring could be heard.

"I once knew that man." the black man stated enigmatically, glancing
toward the door.

Dave did not have anything to say to that, and remained silent.
Neither did anyone else, it seemed, and so, for a while, the only
noise was the quiet movement of the crowd shuffling forward and people
pulling themselves to their feet.

Dave focused his attention at once on Celes. As mentioned before, she
looked fine overall, though now that she had a little freewill, she
was a bit shaky on her feet.

"Celes," Dave addressed her, for confirmation's sake. "You all right?"

Celes did not respond immediately. She continued to sway on her feet
for a long moment, and only spoke once she had a bit more control.

"No," she said.

It was a worried Dave who limped over Celes' direction, all too
conscious of the terrible pain in his right ankle.

"You say you knew him," the halfling said to the black man. "From
where, if I may?"

"We worked together," the man replied. "At a non-profit organization.
Just so you know, he wasn't always like this. I suspect the so-called
'Master' changed him with commands like the ones he just gave us."

"Really? What kind of non-profit organization?" the halfling pressed.

The black man blinked. "A non-profit organization," he repeated.

The Hobbit opened his mouth to reply, apparently decided against it,
and shut it again.

When Dave approached her, he could see that Celes was trembling
lightly, biting back tears, and trying, from the expression on her
face, to hide it.

The sight of this filled Dave with dread.

"Celes," he whispered, gently placing his remaining hand on her
shoulder. She did not move to embrace him or pull back. In fact, aside
from trembling, she did not move at all.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

When Celes initially shook her head no, Dave pulled his hand back. If
silence was what she needed, he reasoned, he would not intrude.

But then, to Dave's surprise, she spoke. And her voice trembled as her
body did.

"Dave, this. Strider. He is no man, he is an animal!"

Dave remained silent, hesitated, and placed his hand back on her
shoulder. He felt uncertain; what could he say? But she did not resist
him.

"When we were forced to march," she continued, her voice barely a
whisper. "In the forest." She stopped.

"Take it easy," Dave whispered gently. "I'm here."

"I heard him coming up behind me." she continued heedlessly. "And. my
legs stopped moving. and."

Tears began to flow freely down Celes' cheeks, and she turned now to
look at Dave, and he could see in her eyes, face, and in every motion
she made, telling this story was taking a lot out of her.

"Enough, Celes," Dave murmured softly to her. "You don't have to say
anymore."

Celes nodded and stopped. Dave stepped forward and gently pulled her
into an embrace. She fell into his arms and let all barriers drop. It
was then that Dave realized just how much of her trust he had gained
in the short time they had known each other. And she was so unlike the
original Celes, to him. The war-hardened General who had survived the
Fall of the Empire and the End of her own World with hardly a tear
would not have confided as such with him, Dave sensed. Even if he were
Locke. Or Craxton.

The Hobbit shook his head despairingly. "This 'Strider' man is a
monster," he said. "We have to get out."

He stopped. His eyes glazed over. So did everyone else's
simultaneously, as Dave would have noticed if his hadn't as well.

There was a long moment in which nobody in the room was able to move
anything or think anything. Then, free will kicked in and everyone in
any upright position fell forward, onto their faces.

"Goddammit!" the black man exclaimed, pulling himself to his feet. He
glanced at the confused halfling, and let out a deep breath.

"Listen," he said once he had calmed down. "That man - JoHann is his
name - was not just threatening us if we talked of. well, he literally
meant that we can't. Or if we do, we're all temporarily frozen. So.
Please! Try to avoid talking about." he broke off and nodded.

"Sorry," the halfling muttered quietly to himself. This was followed a
space of actual real silence, broken only slightly by the sound of
Dave, Celes, and a few others standing up.

"How do you know so much?" Dave finally asked of the man.

He shrugged. "I've been around."

This was answered by more silence. The last in a long line of
timequake-similar experiences had brought Celes' sobbing to a sudden
awkward end, and so, even she was silent. The next break in the
silence was similar to previous break in the silence, in that it
involved people deciding to stand up. However, this time it was a
higher number of people, and so produced more noise.

Silence didn't have a second to set in again. Before everyone who had
decided to stand up this time had even stood up, Dave made a sudden
decision, walked toward the black man, and extended his only hand in
greeting. "Hi, I'm Dave," he said. "I guess we're all in this mess
together."

The black man and extended one of his own to shake Dave's hand. "Hi,"
he replied cordially. "I'm Jabar."

"Does this mean we're not going to escape?" the unusually tall Hobbit
squeaked.

Every person in the room hesitated, their eyes glazed over, and they
stopped doing anything at all. Then they all fell forward,
simultaneously, onto their faces.

"Dammit!" Jabar and Dave shouted together once it was over, and glared
at the cowering halfling.

"S-sorry," the halfling stammered. "I didn't mean it! I apologize! Hi,
I'm Jeff!"

Dave glared for a moment before nodding and grumbling "Nice to meet
you, Jeff."

Jeff nodded back at him uneasily. Jabar said nothing. Celes, staring
at the ground she still lay on, wasn't even listening.

"So," Jabar said to Dave, nodding at Celes. "Who's the lady?"

Dave opened his mouth to reply.

So did Celes.

Celes spoke first.

"I'm Celes," she said.

Dave closed his mouth, looked for something to say or do, could not
think of anything, and nodded dumbly at Jabar.

Jabar nodded back.

Celes stood up, brushed herself off, and glanced toward the
surrounding crowd of slaves. "So," she said, "I notice you guys have
been awfully silent so far. What gives?"

Dave was in awe.

"What's there to say?" one woman exclaimed. "We cannot speak of very
much without ever speaking of the one most precious thing any of us
can have: Freedom."

Over a hundred eyes - at least - glazed over at once. No one moved for
a long moment. Then everyone who had bothered to stand up at all fell
over, simultaneously, onto their faces.

When overall Free Will was regained, most people opted to - as usual -
stay silent, and Dave was beginning to understand why.

Nevertheless, one person did speak. Or, rather, shout.

This individual was a man who Dave never actually saw - some slave
from somewhere within the crowd. But his physical features weren't the
least bit important, anyway. What was important was his voice, and
what he said. Because it would spur on a conflict of almost a full
hour's length.

It was this:

"All right. We get it. And now you're giving me a headache. Will you
please shut up, lady, before you get us all killed?"

Looking back on it, Dave would realize not only did the man have
perfect reason to be annoyed, he probably also wasn't even referring
to Celes when he screamed "lady."

At the time, however, the rude exclamation irked the hell out of Dave
G.

With vengeance in his heart, Dave drew back a breath, waited, and
bellowed at the top of his lungs:

"FREEDOM!!!"

Dave's feeling of triumph was delayed several seconds by the following
timequake-like experience, and even then, he only had a few
milliseconds to let it sink in before someone else exclaimed: "Why
don't you escape, dam---?"

The end "mit" was stalled several seconds, like everything else. When
the slave finished the "dammit," his surprise at free will was
interrupted abruptly by another slave screaming "FREEDOM!"

This time it was not Dave.

When freewill reappeared, no one fell on their face, because no one
was foolish enough to even bother to stand up now.

"DEATH TO STRIDER!" one man screamed.


***


When the four servants arrived to escort Dave, Jabar, Jeff, and Celes
to the Dining Room, their repeated orders for the slaves to come along
with them were ignored - or, rather, overrided - by the continuous
screaming of "FREEDOM," "ESCAPE," "DEATH TO STRIDER," and "DEATH TO
THE TYRANT KING!"

They tried to get the four intended guests away for dinner, but in
their lack of free will, Dave, Jabar, Jeff, and Celes wouldn't budge
an inch. Ten minutes passed before JoHann was sent down to investigate
the delay, and when he tried the same orders the servants before him
had tried, he was met by the same results.

Finally, Strider himself had to come down to see what the hell was
going on before something finally happened. He told everybody to shut
up. They did. But, overall, the slaves managed to delay the dinner
over forty minutes, and with less than one full minute between the
hundred-and-something of them. Pretty good for a group of mindless
machines, I'd say.

"Shut up, narrator," Strider growled.

Sorry.


***


After hearing the full story from one of the other slaves, Strider,
annoyed, made certain to walk directly to the right of the
troublemaker who had started the entire mess. His gaze was suspicious
and very annoyed.

"You sure think you're something, don't you, punk?" cursed Strider.

If Dave had any free will left over, he would have still ignored his
First Amendment rights and kept his response to a smug smile.


***


+++
5:46 PM
AGFF City
Mary's House
+++


The lunch appointment with the dentist earlier that afternoon had left
Mary jolted and, in the end, feeling terribly sickly. One quick glance
in the mirror had confirmed for her that she even looked ill. None of
the usual color showed in her face. If she hadn't been at the stage
she was at, she would have been almost amused by the dreamy confusion
filling her light blue eyes at the moment and the exhausted,
bedraggled way she pulled herself about. Granted, she had been through
a lot lately, but more than that, it was the fact that she knew there
was a lot more to come that produced her latest look of gloom.

Her appearance and desire to look like she knew what the fuck she was
doing eventually led her to the decision to take a shower. In the
past, showers had always been a good decision; whether to bring
relaxation or pleasure, she always would end up looking at least
rejuvenated by the completion of it, which was better than the
emotional and physical state she currently had.

Outside, the first mutterings of a thunderstorm could be heard in the
distance. A sharp wind had almost thrown her from her feet several
times in her hasty run back to her house. The clouds above were dark
and ominous. Had she been in a better mind state, she would have
realized the Universe was foreboding something dramatic and probably
quite frightening - and before eight o'clock, at that.

She pulled a pile of random clothing from the laundry basket as she
rushed toward the bathroom and dumped them uncaringly on the floor
underneath the sink before turning to the shower stall.

She stripped and pulled the knob to start the shower and found that
even that took noticeable effort to do. Nonetheless, she waited
patiently for the heat to turn on and cautiously turned the knob a
little to the left to turn down the heat.

Moments passed and she adjusted the knob further. Finally, the desired
amount of heat entered the water and she stepped in to the shower
stall. And it was as if she were in another world altogether. All of
the dirt, the cold, the nerve-wracked emotional state and the terribly
messy hair reflecting it - all of it gone, gone in
the heat of unchanging familiarity.

For one long moment, Mary Gifaldi remained simply content with the
pleasurable pitter-patter of the raining shower water beating down
upon her face, neck, and chest. When she had returned from the failed
mission of the Relm Rescue Force, all she wanted to do was return to
the slow-moving day-to-day life she had become so contented with. She
felt she was gripping on to the last edges of familiarity even now,
and perhaps something else could remain sacred to her. Aside from
Falconer, she needed a security, before it all flooded away like the
mud on her skin.

For a moment, the pumps leading to the shower stopped as if someone
elsewhere in the building had flushed a toilet or started a
dishwasher. She remembered, then, her failed roommate situation years
before and that woman who would always find a way to flush a toilet
upstairs just when Mary wanted to take a peaceful shower.

Instinctively, she pulled away from the main source of the shower
water and watched most of it dribble away onto the floor, leaving only
random drops of water - very suddenly cold - to continue to fly down
at her like guided missiles.

She stared up, wide-eyed, at the shower that had just betrayed her
trust and her jaw dropped.

Without missing a beat, the waters turned to a darker hue and
splattered across the floor of the shower stall - scarring it red -
and onto a horrified Mary, even as she backed away as far as possible
into the enclosing wall behind her. It took a moment to register to
her that this frightfully cold liquid was no longer water.

Mary held back no longer; she threw up her head and let out a classic
horror movie scream.


+++
6:35 PM
???
Murgorath's Tower
+++
 

They were screaming, all four of them, as they flew out of the
greenish-white portal that delivered them from their home world. The
fat kid, the kid bundled up in an orange something or another, the kid
wearing the green muffler hat and orange coat, and the kid wearing the
blue hat and blue coat, each with a red lining. Cartman, Kenny, Kyle,
and Stan. Murgorath knew because he had specifically chosen them to
survive the storm and appear in his castle.

"Greetings," said the man in the blood red robe, stepping forward
toward them with an ambitious look in his bright omniscient eyes. "I
have no time to waste, so I'll make this plain. You have a part to
play down below. And if you want ever to return to your beloved South
Park, all you have to do is--- . Yes?"

The chubby kid wearing an equally red coat and a light blue cap on his
head, Cartman, had raised his hand almost immediately after his
arrival. Murgorath had made a conscious effort to ignore this, but it
was distracting enough that he was unable to do so for more than a few
seconds.

"Excuse me, but." Cartman said, "who the fuck are you?"

"I." Murgorath said with dramatic flourish, "am Murgorath!"

The four kids stared without cringing or moving or worshipping or
doing any of the other things people Murgorath summoned to his castle
had been known to do when he spoke. He had thought that these, being
children, would be especially susceptible to scare tactics, but the
four children simply stared.

"And?" Kyle finally asked.

Murgorath rolled his eyes with irritation and glared down with his
best glare at the children. "Would you all just shut up and listen?
Here's what we're going to do."


+++
7:10 PM
AGFF City
Mary's House
+++


Mary had just finished cleaning up all traces of blood from her body
and getting dressed when the doorbell rang for the first time. This
surprised Mary, for she hadn't expected anyone till at least 7:30 and
she had figured she had at least twenty minutes before even the early
arrivals showed.

Cautiously, she walked over to the door, and glanced through the
keyhole. Outside, she saw Gann0n, dressed in the same clothing he had
worn to the invasion of Mr. X's Fortress.

"Gann0n!" she exclaimed, throwing the door open to greet him. "I
wasn't expecting you so early! What's goin' on?"

"Uhhhhhh," Gann0n said, looking down at a crumpled piece of paper in
his hand. "I was under the impression this meeting thing was at 7."

"How could you have that impression? I left very clear instructions on
the answering machine."

"Well, we heard it from the boss himself, miss. I guess something must
have gotten messed up in the translation."

"We?"

"Yeah, us," said another Gann0n behind the first who Mary had not
previously seen. Her eyes widened and she leaped backwards.

"Another Gann0n? There are two of you?" Mary sputtered.

"No," said the first Gann0n as he walked in. "There are four. Allow me
to introduce myself. I am Gann0n Clone Experiment #55, and these are
my companions, Gann0n Clone Experiment #74, Gann0n Clone Experiment
#39, and Gann0n Clone Experiment Clone Experiment #39. Mr. Gann0n sent
us in his stead, with his regrets."

The other three Gann0ns stepped cautiously inside, looking at all of
the furniture and walls, but not at Mary herself.

"Can. can we come in?" Gann0n Clone Experiment #74 asked of Mary. "If
you want, we can wait outside for the next forty minutes."

"No! No! No! Come right on in," Mary said immediately, thinking of
what seeing four Gann0ns at once might do to Mrs. Millenaus' poor
heart. She urged them in.


+++
7:45 PM
+++


".injured several well-known posters, including, though not exclusive
to, Greg 'Fox' Cook, in what is considered the most successful
diabolical plot this city has seen since KeFKa and the Microwave
Bandits raided the royal mint. Hundreds of innocent lurkers and at
least a dozen high-ranking members of the AGFFSDIAIA and the Castle
AGFF guard are among those unaccounted for since their mysterious
disappearance this afternoon, shortly after the renegade Tifa Clone
first arrived."

Mary watched the television with interest. It had been surprising to
see the other former members of the Relm Rescue Force on the news so
quickly after they went on their separate paths. Though she had opted
not to join them, she was nevertheless concerned that this had
occurred: aside from the injuries the others had taken, this virtually
blew away any hope they had of keeping a low profile.

The image on the screen abruptly changed to the familiar wooden doors
and concrete stairs of the AGFFSDIAIA Headquarters in AGFF City.
Several men dressed in pitch-black suits and ties stepped out of the
giant wooden doors, followed by a tall aggressive-looking man of a
powerful build who could only be the infamous Sean Daugherty himself.
On either side of him were flanked two more bodyguards, and behind him
were at least six. Noticeable in every man's hands - save Sean's
himself - was a large laser rifle.

Still, the person carrying the camera started toward the line of armed
men fearlessly, and a microphone could be seen around the bottom of
the screen, held by the hand of an off-screen reporter.

"Mr. Daugherty!" a feminine voice cried out. "A number of AGFFSDIAIA
agents have been reported missing since this afternoon. Would you care
to comment?"

"No comment," Sean replied coldly without slowing his pace or even
looking the direction of the camera.

"But, Mr. Daugherty, the local authorities are expressing concern that
you did not send in enough reinforcements to avert this tragedy and
could be held at fault for." the voice continued, unheedingly. The
cameraman started forward, toward the Head of the AGFFSDIAIA, and one
of the bodyguards turned from the line of men and walked toward the
camera. He pressed his hand onto the lens, blocking off visibility.

"Hey!" a male voice cried, before the entire broadcast was cut off. In
neon-green lettering, the words "Don't Panic" were plastered across
the screen moments later, and all went silent, save for the sound of
distant thunder and rain and hail hitting the roof.

Mary shifted uneasily on Falconer's lap, and he wrapped his arms
comfortingly around her waist. Visionus paced restlessly past and
glanced toward the door. Rachel glanced at the television with a touch
of anxious disappointment in her expression. The four Gann0n Clones
stared at the television but, eerily enough, did not seem to be
actually watching it. Thunder boomed ominously outside.

"Say," Falconer murmured quietly. "I don't suppose we could switch to
the weather channel, could we? I'd like to see if they have any
explanation. for."

"No prob," Mary replied and casually flicked a button on the remote
controller. The image changed abruptly to a man in a grayish-blue
business suit pointing a long wooden stick at a map of a condensed
area of AGFF.

They all listened in unison as the man calmly described the weather in
a number of areas both near and far from AGFF City. Finally, he
pointed to AGFF City and spoke hesitantly.

"In the center of AGFF culture and government, a somewhat unusual
phenomena for this time of year is taking place."

Abruptly the image changed to a camera shot of Astarra Beach. Normally
sunny and calm, the sight shocked everyone in the room with the
exception of Visionus, though that might have been only because he
wasn't paying any attention to the television, and the four Gann0n
Clones, though they tried their best to look like it did. The palm
trees were swayed back by heavy winds and a powerful, continuous
rainfall. In the background, the waves on the beach were gigantic and
managed to approach the empty sidewalk about twenty or thirty feet
away from the usual end of the tide.

"Good God, it looks like a hurricane," Falconer muttered. Visionus
turned his attention to the television and he stared at it sadly. His
gaze was absent of surprise.

"The winds are approaching sixty miles per hour in some areas," the
voice of the news broadcaster continued. "While scientists are saying
it is unlikely to be anything more than an unusually fast thunderstorm
- to come and go within the evening - you are advised, for your own
safety, to wait inside your homes until it passes. Thank you."

The weatherman turned his attention to the weather near the area of
Kaipo and Mary quickly muted it.

"Unusually fast thunder storm, my ass." Rachel muttered. "That's a
hurricane if I ever saw one. What is happening to this newsgroup?"

"What is happening?" Visionus replied darkly, facing away from the
screen and toward the door. Thunder boomed dramatically above. "That
is exactly what I have brought you here to talk about."


+++
7:51 PM
AGFF City
Unright's Laboratory
+++


Dressed in a black raincoat and followed closely by the Armadillo, it
was only warily that Unright risked leaving his lab for the meeting at
Mary's house. After all, his experiment was at the critical stage, and
it was with weather like this that accidents were most likely to
happen.

Unright winced at the sound of lightning above him. _I do hope
Mary's right about this being a threat to the entire Usenet planet,_
he grumbled inwardly, _because, at this stage, I really can't take a
risk like this lightly._

Of course, Mary probably could get him to do anything, no matter the
risk, and he knew it. She could wrap him around her little finger if
she chose. Unright was partly thankful she didn't, because he would
never get anything done.

_Besides,_ Unright thought, turning his thoughts to a certain female
who had given his life meaning once before, _Mary's nothing to her.
Which is why caution is needed now._

Thunder boomed dramatically overhead and Unright reached his vehicle
of choice and placed an armadillo shaped key in the lock of the front
door. The car, aptly named the 'Dillo, had a huge segmented shell
placed over the top, a noticeably large fake armadillo tail in the
back and, as Greg himself once said, a "messed-up paint job to boot".

Unright hesitated and glanced back up at the giant mansion that served
as his home and laboratory. Worry shone in his eyes. If lightning hit
the lab - a definite possibility considering the height of the lab -
not only would the experiment be rushed, but the electricity of most
of the residential areas in City AGFF would probably be cut off. It
was at times like this that he wished he hadn't made that secret deal
with King Eggnog and the Development Council, ten thousand gil or no
ten thousand gil.

Finally, a reluctant Unright pulled the door to the 'Dillo open and
got in. There was nothing he could do about it now and he was eager to
get out of the rain. He started the engine and, with a loud rumble,
drove down his massive driveway to the empty streets below.

Lightning crackled overhead and shined briefly on Unright's gothic
lab. Within, something twitched.


+++
7:58 PM
AGFF City
Mary's House
+++


The conversation was abruptly halted by the sound of the doorbell
ringing. Mary hopped off of Falconer's lap. "I'll get it!" she shouted
even as she rushed to the door and threw it open.

"Hi," Dana Crysalis grinned as he stepped in. His rainbow-colored
raincoat was partly covered with mud, as was his forehead, upper
cheek, and hood. "The wind knocked me over into the mud on my way over
here," he explained before Mary even opened her mouth to ask. "May I
clean up in the restroom?"

"No!" Mary blurted out. Immediately, she hastily added, "errr, I mean,
the plumbing's out. And the door's jammed. And the cat puked and I
haven't cleaned it yet. Point is, the restroom's out of order."

A look of worry crossed Dana's face. Mary knew he sensed she was
hiding something even before he asked her, "Mary, is something wrong?"

Mary lowered her head. She wasn't ready to share this information.
"No," she finally said. "I'll get you a wash cloth from the kitchen.
But the restroom's off limits for the time being. Sorry."

Dana let out a deep breath and let his shoulders sag. "When you're
ready," he said, "to share what frightens you, I will be here to
listen. In the meantime, a wash cloth will do fine."


+++
8:04 PM
AGFF City
Highway 99
+++


All around him, lightning struck against the well-farmed plains owned
by the Natural Food Council's small community of farmers and one
cornfield had even caught fire. As the small, armadillo-shaped car
drove by, several trees toppled under the force of one powerful gust
of wind and joined the hastily growing pile of trees littering the
countryside.

It was none of that that held Unright's attention, however. It was
instead the trees that had landed on the dark, nearly invisible road
in front of him - forcing him to drive at an annoyingly slow speed to
avoid crashing - the continuous rain of rock-hard hail slamming
against the windshield, and the high rate time seemed to be passing by
in comparison to the low speed he was capable of driving. He was
nervously aware of how late he was becoming and he much preferred to
be punctual.

"What the hell.?" he began, upon the sight of several of the fallen
trees flying through the air in front of him at an overwhelmingly high
speed, one barely missing his car. He slammed on his brakes upon
seeing the cause of this.

"Oh, god, no, not another one," Unright grumbled as his car was thrown
off of the road and into a nearby ditch.


+++
8:04 PM
AGFF City
Unright's Laboratory
+++


Every human being around to see it was horrified by the sight of
Doctor Unright's familiar massive laboratory catching fire and
exploding after being hit by a sudden bolt of lightning. And those who
didn't see it heard it first in the loud explosion as the fire reached
some inflammatory chemical or another, and then in the loud bang of
the following thunderclap. The ground trembled beneath the feet of
every man and woman within the space of three approximate square miles
and all electrical light around the Western sector of the city went
abruptly out.

In the midst of all of the confusion this caused, very few people
heard the next roar - considerably quieter though it was - or saw *the
creature* exit the fiery building, glance both directions in her
frantic search for food, rear up her ugly, deformed head, and roar the
already mentioned roar when she didn't immediately find any.

The roar was the awesome roar of a carnivore set free from the chains
that bound her, a demon released from the gates of hell. The roar was
the sound of a big, big mistake that was about to happen.

_Meat. Fresh meat,_ were the only thoughts that went through this
creature's mind as she prowled the area, sniffing the terrain with her
oversized snout.

She roared up at the rain and the clouds and at the burning laboratory
one final time, then crawled away.... The creature was on the hunt.


+++
Moments Before
AGFF City
The Wreckage of the 'Dillo
+++


"Owwww.." Unright groaned, pulling up from his steering wheel. He had
blacked out for at least a second when the car had crashed into the
ditch and his face had crashed into the steering wheel. He felt his
forehead with one hand and cursed when he felt blood on it.

It had been a tornado. A bloody tornado. Like those Slipgate had
spoken of in AGFFH, except smaller. In fact, it was the size that
really disturbed Unright. As far as he knew, tornadoes did not come
that small. It was almost as if it had been there for the specific
purpose of getting in his way. He hadn't heard the whirlwind until
moments before it hit him, and he hadn't seen or heard the tornado
after it threw the 'Dillo off of the road. Despite his survival, this
turn of events worried Unright. If some entity had the power to create
tornadoes at a whim - the size of the ones that had encircled Slipgate
in AGFFH or the size of the one that had sent Unright crashing off the
road - then what else might that entity be capable of doing, assuming
the two events were connected? Was this entity the cause of the odd
weather that now descended upon AGFF City?

Even more worrying than that, Unright decided, was the entity's
motives. Why would the entity want Unright out of the action before he
even got to Mary's house?

Then, with a flash, as he pulled the front door open and it crashed to
the ground, free of its hinges, a fearful realization struck him.
There was only one reason why that entity would want him out of the
action now. And if he was right, it could spell disaster for all of
AGFF.

"NO!" he screamed, leaping to his feet with a desperate certainty that
does not come to any but a man who knows intuitively, without
question, that he's right. "She's alive! ALIIIIIIIIVE!!!"


+++
Simultaneously
AGFF City
Mary's House
+++


Mary was quite surprised by the quick, sharp manner in which the
television shut itself off and the electrical lights - which were, in
fact, all of the lights - going out. She heard the low rumbling of the
refrigerator as it turned itself off.

"What the hell is this?" she exclaimed.

"The Scientist will not be joining us this night, as I feared,"
Visionus rumbled, looking dramatically at the window.

"Oh, shut up, Visionus," Mary said, pulling herself together. "It's
just a power outage, for god's sake."

"No. He has been held back in dealings with the Beast of Misfortune."

Mary let out an annoyed breath and glanced at Visionus. "Why do you
keep talking in riddles, damn you? Stop trying to confuse us and make
yourself look like the oh-so-holy and aged prophet. What happened to
the nice, clear dentist who took me out for lunch this afternoon? I
mean, come on, Visionus! Just be clear.and honest."

"Mary," Visionus replied, his voice warming and sounding human again
to her, "I would like to be clearer to you, but I quote to you parts
of the Mysidian and Ulreican Scriptures, and the prophets who gave me
the information I now possess were very vague. But I'll put it to you
this way. Both prophets of both cultures spoke of an evening such as
this one and it was said that one of the senior Gray Warriors, a
magician of science fitting the description of Unright, would
accidentally unleash an evil, destructive creature - the Beast of
Misfortune - upon the world, and this would be marked by a sudden
darkness. Everything fits in. And Unright will be held back trying to
stop it."

"And." Rachel's voice caught in her throat. "Will he succeed?"

"According to the Prophecies." Visionus murmured, then shook his head.
"No. The Beast of Misfortune will be defeated by outside forces. But
Unright cannot know that. And, as such, he will be delayed. We can
update him at a later time. But we should begin."

"Wait."

The voice belonged to Dana Crysalis. He stood up and faced Visionus,
and his face was pale as a ghost's. Yet, through the mask of fear and
tension, on his face could be seen a curious excitement.

Visionus did not reply, merely looked at the man, waiting.

"You referred to the. Ulreicans," Dana said. "According to Legend,
they were a high magic culture - of higher magic, perhaps, than even
the Mysidians - and they destroyed themselves when they began to
direct their energies to a darker level. They unleashed a powerful
demon who destroyed the main city of Ca'alm, and it sent their entire
civilization to splinters. And I'm aware of all of that, and I
wouldn't be so naive with my magical power. But. No one's heard of
them for centuries now, and to hear you speak of their scriptures. My
friend, have you in your hands a scripture of the Ulreicans?"

Visionus hesitated, then spoke plainly. "No. I have been channeling
the energy of an entity known as Ragnarok, the God of Fate. And He has
briefly connected me to the energies of long dead Ulrecan priests.
Only on the spiritual planes do I hold even a portion of the fractured
scriptures. I will tell you more of this later."

"I. I'll get us some candles. For light," Mary muttered and started
off toward the kitchen. No one else said anything for a long moment.
Then Falconer leaned forward and gazed at Visionus.

"My good doctor," Falconer said softly. "You've spoken of the senior
Gray Warriors, but not of the me. You know I cannot leave the service
of the King. So where do I fit in this group, this Prophecy?"


+++
8:09 PM
AGFF City
The Ruins of Unright's Laboratory
+++


The creature pawed through a pile of rubble from the destroyed
laboratory and grabbed the corpse of a rat that had been on the wrong
part of the driveway at the wrong time. She put the rat into her
greedy mouth and began to chomp quietly. Green drool descended from
her misshapen teeth at the end of a long piglike snout, and her eyes,
red as blood, gleamed out into the night. Her body was made up of a
number of jointed, bony plates of armor - the original color for most
of these would be a dusty brown, but now most of them were covered
with red or green or reddish-brown or greenish-brown or greenish-red
slime. Finally, at her back, a pitch-black tail of about ten inches in
length with connected metal chains made an eerie clinking sound as the
creature walked and burrowed on all fours through the rubble.

This creature was an armadillo. Or, rather, it was made up of
armadillos. Every plate, every limb, all came from the corpses of dead
armadillos. In fact, the only part of her that did not come from an
armadillo was her brain.

The Frankendillo paused in mid chomp and glanced up. In the distance,
she heard sirens blaring. A meal? Perhaps. But not immediately. She
needed something to eat now. A quick, easy meal. She sniffed and she
sniffed, but all she could find were rats, ants, and bugs. She needed
something larger, something meatier. A two-legs, perhaps.

There. She smelled it. The delicious smell of a young-blood, just
waiting to be eaten.

_Food!_ she thought hungrily and licked her mouth at the thought of
it. Then she was off, darting down the driveway through the rain, to
catch her first prey.

 

+++
8:11 PM
AGFF City
Mary's House
+++


Mary returned to the main room with a candle in hand and was instantly
aware of a new, conscious, stunned silence that filled the room.
Falconer looked uncomfortable and changed position on the couch
repeatedly even as she entered. She opened her mouth to ask, but
something in Visionus' eyes warned her against it. She sighed. Being
confused was nothing new, especially in the presence of the enigmatic
dentist, and she could live without this knowledge. at least for now.

"So," she said, lighting a candle on the glass coffee table directly
in front of the couch and the chairs, and moving on to light a number
of others throughout the room. "Visionus. Tell us. I'm dying of
anticipation."

Visionus stood up from the chair he had been leaning on briefly, and
paced about the room. "I became aware," he said, "of an organization
devoted to channeling an entity known as Ragnarok about fifteen years
ago. The organization was mostly secret, kept underground to avoid
persecution by King Elric the Second and his religious laws. The
organization's name was the Ragnarok Oracle Channeling Klan - ROCK for
short - and the general drift was that we would channel this entity
until the days spoken of in the Mysidian Prophecy arrived. We would
warn the people of Usenet of the oncoming danger, find the Light and
Dark Warriors, and set things so the days of the Apocalypse would,
perhaps, be averted. Since I had a spiritual encounter with Ragnarok
when I was twelve years old, I felt 'called' to ROCK. I joined, and
stayed among their ranks for ten full years.

"However," and Visionus' voice caught in his breath, "I. Well, I began
to channel things the others didn't, began to see things not described
in the Mysidian Prophecy, and everything I prophesied came true.
Moreover, I felt Ragnarok was directing me to the ruins of the
Ulreican city of Ca'alm. I left the monastery of ROCK and walked for
several days toward the Mountain Ordeals. You see, even the Mysidians
did not describe what gave that Mountain its magical qualities and
most explorers never made it up to the top - indeed, most did not care
to, thinking the main attraction of Mount Ordeals was the chambers of
Paladin. But there was a lot more to it than that. As I had been told
by Ragnarok in a meditation while I was still with ROCK, the top of
Mount Ordeals was where the Ruins of Ca'alm still lay. And though the
area of the Paladin chambers was filled with light and love, the Ruins
were. dark. Very dark. The spirit of the demon of Ca'alm still
wandered the area restlessly and attacked me almost as soon as I set
foot on the ancient rock of the Ruins, " lightning flashed and thunder
boomed outside. "I fought a terrible battle with it, but I, a single
untrained Priest of Ragnarok, was no match for it. The demon almost
killed me, and I never saw what lay beyond the Ruins.

"When I returned to ROCK, they refused to have me. Every attempt to
warn them that the days of the Prophecy were almost upon us was
ignored. They banned me, exiled me, told me to never return.
Understand, ROCK was my only family since I left my parents to join
them. To lose them was to lose the only family I knew. I fought long
and hard to maintain my membership, but. they would not have it. And
soon, I had to chant and channel all alone. I set up a private
practice in AGFF City and attempted to start a new life.

"But my dreams were plagued, terribly plagued. Every night, I saw
destruction, I saw death. And when I attempted to channel Ragnarok."

Visionus stopped and gazed down at the floor thoughtfully. Mary,
meanwhile, finished lighting the last of the candles and walked over
to the fireplace. She set a match aflame, kneeled down before the
fireplace, and threw the match into it.

"When I attempted to channel Ragnarok, I saw things. Things I had
never seen before. Literally thousands of images passed through my
mind and I felt like my head would explode. Ragnarok took my mind, and
for a long moment I was myself no longer. It was frightening, but when
I returned to a normal state of being, I realized the Mysidian
Prophecy was only half of the Prophecy."

"So the other half is the Ulreican Prophecy?" Dana asked.

"Yes. But there is more."


+++
8:23
AGFF City

Police Department, Precinct 101
+++


".and we must act quickly if we intend to contain this threat before
she kills a human being. It may already be too late. We need to get at
least a dozen police vehicles to the area surrounding my lab. and
scour the area. That way we might find and arrest her until she can be
put under control."

"Uh-huh?" the police officer said. "And . uh. what again is this
terrible threat? A weasel, did you say?"

"No, an Armadillo!" it was a flustered Unright who banged one fist
against the desk. "A Frankendillo, to be exact. She is made up of over
a hundred different Armadillos, but she has the wrong brain. I
discovered just recently that my numbskull lab assistant gave her the
brain of a carnivorous tiger from the wild lands to the north! And I'm
telling you, if we don't act quickly, some innocent. child, or, or.
adult for that matter might be killed! This is a serious matter!"

"Careful about the desk. This's an expensive desk, you know."

"The desk doesn't matter!" Unright roared, banging his fist against
the desk again. "Understand, all of our lives may be at risk if we
allow her to run free."

"All because of an undead weasel."

"It's not a weasel, it's a goddamn armadillo. And, yes! The
Frankendillo. she could even threaten the life of our good King! Do
you want that? Don't you believe me?"

The officer turned his head at the sound of a door behind him opening.
A large, burly man Unright recognized as his friend, Chief Robinson,
walked through aggressively, looking to the long window behind them.
"What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

"Well, this. scientist," the first officer said, poking one grubby
finger, covered with donut specks, into Unright's face, "says some
weasel is attacking our citizens."
"It's an armadillo!"

"I'm not talking about that," Robinson cut them both off. "Look
outside!"

Unright turned his head to look out the window and saw a truly
surprising phenomenon taking place. For a moment, he even forgot how
much of a threat his creation was and he simply stared.

The clouds were broiling and twisting and converging like a broth in a
cooking pot and the rainstorm went from a high-power shower to a mere
drizzle, then to a high-power shower once again a few seconds later,
and continued to do this every few seconds. Even odder, though, the
clouds were circling and surrounding but not actually touching the
silver moon hanging in the sky, as if they were being held back by
some incredible force.

It was at that point that something even more amazing occurred.


+++
Several Minutes Ago
The Moon
Invader's Camp
+++


The surface of the Moon directly in the center of the reformed
Invader's Camp had been drilled with holes and shoveled through by a
hundred trained men, and the result was a gigantic, gaping, fifty foot
wide and seventy foot deep hole. Even now, dozens of workers dug
deeper into the hole without rest... And for good reason. Surrounding
them were their laser rifle-wielding guards, posted there to keep them
in check. If they did not continue working, they would be killed and
their families would be starved.

Beyond the guards in all directions was the camp - consisting mainly
of tarps, tents, and small wooden buildings. Very few of the buildings
had survived the initial assault of the Sun God, but the ones that had
were the original blueprints for the hastily rebuilt camp. Each
building and tent had at least one guard stationed around it, and
many, such as the central Communications Building, were surrounded on
all sides by guards.

"Have you found anything?"

The cold, mildly irritated voice came from the dark image on the
screen in the farthest wall of the Communications Building. It was
addressing General Inglesmore, and it belonged to the new leader, Sean
Christian Daugherty.

"Not directly," Inglesmore replied timidly. To mask his fear,
Inglesmore's face and tone were decidedly neutral, though his fear was
certainly understandable. Even the highest-ranking officers were
unnerved by the mysterious cloaked individual, never to be entirely
visible on the screen. They had all much preferred Mister X's
leadership for the sole reason that they could always see his face,
and he also was much more predictable. They never knew what to expect
from his ambitious son. Forcing these thoughts from his head,
Inglesmore continued, "we have, however, detected an increasing
percentage of overall heat as we dig deeper into the surface. We are
confident we will find the creature's habitat soon, and when we do, we
will set the ambush."

"Do not fail me."

"No, of course not," Inglesmore quickly replied, doing his best to
ignore the barely concealed threat hidden beneath the words. After a
short pause, he cautiously added, "Sir, some of our operatives have
expressed some concern that there may be more than the one of these
animals living inside of the Moon. While we are of course not doubting
our ability to find and destroy, if need be, more than a single one of
these creatures now that we are prepared to deal with them. We are
concerned that the lives of a high number of our troops may be put at
stake in the absence of proper equipment and reinforcements."

"And?"


The rock beneath the workers digging the hole began to shake and
tremble, and as one they paused, alarmed.

"Ye-Ye-Yaaaah! What the hell.!?" one of them screamed as fire leaped
up from the thin crevices below him and covered him from head to foot.

The other workers began to let out similar exclamations as fire leaped
up at them from beneath their feet.


"Well, we would like, if possible, more reinforcements from the
Planet," Inglesmore stumbled over the words as he said them. He
scratched his neck and wiped away some of the sweat now dripping down
his face.

"Are you telling me, General, that you are incapable of maintaining
control over your own troops?"


_Not another revolt, I hope,_ was the guard's first thought upon
hearing the sudden wave of shouts and screams ascending from the
bottom of the hole. He leaned down with much irritation to the hole
and, almost with thinking, began to shout, "Shut up, you lazy..."

He quickly followed his own directions at the sight that was to greet
him as did the rest of the awe-stricken guards looking down into the
hole. There was a pentacle of fire formed around the bottom of the
hole, with each edge of each angle centered on a different burning
worker. A few of the workers had already ceased to scream, dead by the
intense heat, but the screams of those who still survived made the
idea of being a worker right now not an attractive prospect.

The guard's jaw gaped. It was so horrific, even to his jaded eyes,
what he saw taking place down there, and yet it was so very beautiful.
When he thought of the burning skin and bones and the incredible pain
of the workers, he felt nauseated and somewhat sad... Yet, the vision
he was seeing within the flames filled him with awe and joy... He
could not look away.

Every guard looking into the hole was caught by surprise when, without
any forewarning, the pentacle of fire shot into the air at a high rate
of speed and burst past their faces and heads. Several of the guards
felt pulled in and fell easily into the flames, while others flew,
whole bodies aflame, to the ground surrounding the hole, desperately
but futiley trying to put themselves out. The sounds of screaming
filled the air.


Inglesmore's neck and shoulders tensed up at the latest verbal attack
from his superior and he quickly spoke in his defense, "no, no,
nothing of the sort, Sir. I am just saying."

"When I send in these troops, should I send in another man to do your
job?" Sean growled. "You don't seem quite ready to hold the
responsibilities of a Leader."


Presently, all of the nearby troops were very much aware of the
activity from within the hole, for the wall of fire had grown over ten
feet above the ground, and everyone and everything within - assuming
they weren't all burnt to cinders already - was entirely blocked from
view. Every troop with a laser rifle to his name raised it to the wall
of flames, while the last of the guards aflame ceased to move.
Collectively, the living troops put a tentative finger to the trigger
and waited.

A moment passed. Then, three distinct, shadowy humanoid shapes
materialized from within the flames. They seemed to not notice their
distance from any ground and simply stood there for a long moment. Not
to waste time, the first troop hit the trigger, the first laser beam
flew into the wall of flames and hit one of the three entities, but
did not seem to do it any damage whatsoever. Nor did the barrage of
laserfire immediately following the first shot. Like specters, the
entities floated there, untouched and unmoving.


"Sir!" Inglesmore's face was flushed, and he continued, heedless of
the sound of fighting outside. "I have received ten years of combat
training, five years within one of your own leadership courses, and I
have led many missions under the control of Mr. X. I am more than
capable."

"Then do your job. Daugherty out."

The screen went blank. General Inglesmore banged one fist against the
desk angrily, and let out a curse. "Damnit! Doesn't he understand we
don't have enough men to fight even one of these animals?"


The largest of the three dark entities flew forward from the flames
and, almost immediately upon exiting them, unleashed a wave of flame
from its very humanoid fingertips. Almost simultaneously, the other
two dark entities shot up out of the flames and into the sky mere
meters above the camp. From there, they flew forward, toward the main
buildings behind most of the troops.

In the milliseconds before he caught fire, one of the troops caught a
brief glance at the first entity, and the very sight of it brought
fear into his heart. The entity never even touched the ground, for
starters, and more, none of its features were the least bit visible,
even with the electric lights of the camp shining down directly at it,
and only vaguely were its features distinguishable as those of a
muscular, well-built man of good height. Finally, the troop found the
chilling inhuman laugh the entity gave when shooting flame from its
fingertips at them a bit disheartening. The troop didn't pay very much
attention to the entity after that, preoccupied as he was with trying
to put the fire that covered his body out before it burned him to
death. He wouldn't have worried so much about that, however, had he
known that the dark entity was about to break his neck.


General Inglesmore didn't even need to leave the Communications
Building to take part in the battle. On the contrary, the battle came
to him. The ceiling cracked open and fell apart in the two places
through which the two dark entities flew at him. Like the troops
before him, their overwhelmingly evil laughter as they approached was
very unnerving. More unnerving for the General - for he had fought
Demons before - was the fact that several shots with his laser went
entirely unnoticed.

General Inglesmore was not a stupid man. During the Arthurian Wars, he
had encountered Demons who could withstand all manner of laser
weaponry and even a bullet to the head, yet were very susceptible to
the simple power of a sword blade. When he had found himself trapped
in a castle with one such Demon early in the war for two days, three
nights, it was his wits that kept him alive and, indeed, won the war
for the AGFFSDIAIA and all related Organizations.

But, of course, that was two days and three nights. With one Demon.
Who didn't know his exact position and initially didn't even know he
was there. And let's not fool ourselves; he only had a few seconds to
use his wits to defeat not one, but two Demons when he had no
immediate weapons that worked or previous knowledge of the specific
entities currently flying at him. Most people's wits don't even begin
to kick in by then.

The two entities grabbed General Inglesmore and one of them punched a
hole through his stomach while the other one broke his neck. They
dropped his corpse to the ground and began to wreak havoc on the small
building- a task that was not very hard to accomplish. By some stroke
of luck, they failed to notice that the small monitor through which
General Inglesmore had communicated with Sean Daugherty was still very
much intact, though almost everything else wasn't.


Any remaining bravery that the surviving troops may have had was
destroyed upon the sight of the Communications Building exploding.
Their one and only surviving leader - that they trusted, anyway - had
been inside, and he was now most certainly dead. Which meant none of
them had a cause to fight for anymore. And even if they did, their
weapons certainly weren't doing a bloody thing to the entities
currently laying waste to their camp.

Hell with it. As a collective, they almost all agreed they wanted to
remain alive. And so, they all ran away from the camp pretty
simultaneously, and it was there that their 'Collective' mentality
faded away. Well, there were two troops who stayed to fight, but they
didn't last long enough to really count.

As the two flying entities continued to lay waste to the small camp
and the largest of them continued to pursue fleeing troops, the
circular wall of fire began to twist and turn and combine with itself,
shaping very quickly into a large, angry being existing entirely of
fire. His eye sockets were empty and pitch black, yet He seemed very
capable of sight. He whirled around, obviously investigating the area
for signs of life, the fires flew from His lower face for a moment,
forming a terrifying empty mouth, and He roared a loud vengeful roar.
He beat both fiery fists against the ground, the ground trembled
briefly, and a giant wave of flames exploded briefly through the area.
The two entities nearby cowered.

The Sun God roared with more of His unending rage and slammed both
fists against the moon rock again. The ground shook like a 7.0
earthquake this time, and both of the trembling entities disintegrated
under the sheer power of the Sun God's Hatred.

He roared again, raised his fists into the air, and the entire camp
exploded with the fiery hatred, radiating about half of a mile, and
killed every man, woman, or demon in the area. Yet, his rage was not
complete, and he slammed his fists upon the ground again and roared
another roar. This was followed by another, larger explosion.

And his hate had not even begun to be fully expressed.


+++
Simultaneously
FuSoYa's Space Ship
The Bridge
+++


Initially, the tiny explosions FuSoYa saw on the surface of the
distant Moon had very little impact on him, which he found surprising.
As time passed, he thought more about the continuous explosions and
felt a sudden wave of a horror and nausea nearly overcome him as he
realized what he must be seeing. As far from the Moon as he was, the
explosions he saw shoot like fireworks over a specific sector of the
Moon over the course of several minutes, he realized, must have been
absolutely massive down there. He winced to think of the poor beings,
whoever they may be, currently feeling the wrath of the Sun God.

And so the horror and nausea gradually turned into a simple sadness,
and as he continued to watch, a tear left his eye. "Moon, my Moon." he
whispered softly. "The Sun God tears you apart with such power. and
your days are nearly done. I have been assigned to continue your
legacy, but do I have the power? Your Avatar has yet to summon me,
and, and I feel so cold. so very cold, for I know deep within that I
will never return home. And she who was dearest to me dies. Moon, oh
Moon, what tempted you to try to hold this monster's wrath so very
long at your own cost and at the cost of your people? Why must you
intervene for the behalf of others, at your own cost?"

He drew the Lunarian Blade and looked it over, sadly. Even now, he
carried around a part of the Moon with him. When the Moon's days were
long over, he would still have this last remnant of it. Or would it
burst into flames like its Father?

"FuSoYa." a familiar voice whispered from behind him. Surprised, he
turned around to face the slender, youthful figure standing before
him, looking very much alive. She held a paintbrush in her left hand
and a palette in the other, but her attention was not focused on
either of these items. Her attention was focused on FuSoYa.

"R-Relm!" FuSoYa said in a gasp. "Y-You're." it dawned on him and he
shook his head sadly and turned away from her again. "Not alive."

"No," Relm admitted. "But FuSoYa. I am here as a Messenger from Erik.
I must tell you. The Blade is the Key to the power of the Gods."

"The Blade?" FuSoYa asked, raising the Lunarian Blade. "You mean
this?"

"Yes. that which you used to defend me.. You must now use it to defend
the people of the Planet. You will be the Champion of Usenet.. But you
must embrace your own power and you must forgive those who imprisoned
you early on. FuSoYa."

FuSoYa lowered his head to the ground, for all of his long-hidden
feelings of rage for Erik and Lehgraia flooded back to the surface.
More tears formed in his eyes, and he tightened his grip on the blade.

"I believe in you," Relm's voice finished. Immediately, FuSoYa raised
his head to look at her. But she was gone.

"Relm," FuSoYa whispered. "They committed such atrocities. and they
misled the Lunarian people. Try as I might, I. I cannot forgive them."

This was greeted with a long period of cold, empty silence, and he
lowered the blade to the floor. He could not forgive Erik and
Lehgraia. he just couldn't.

FuSoYa turned to the window again and stared at the window. The tiny
explosions continued on the surface. But, for a moment, the entire
Moon lit up red with the Sun God's rage.

In order to defeat the Sun God's rage, FuSoYa realized, he would first
have to defeat his own. But it was an easier thought than action.


+++
During the Attack on Invaders' Camp
Mon Schierele
Sean's Office
+++


General Inglesmore banged one fist against his desk on the moon
angrily, and let out a curse. "Damnit! Doesn't he understand we don't
have enough men to fight even one of these animals?"

_Yes,_ thought the man standing in front of the large theater screen
upon which the Communications Building in Invaders' Camp was being
secretly monitored. _In fact, that is the idea. You see, Inglesmore,
your entire purpose for finding the creature is to test its strength
so I know what destroyed three hundred million gil worth of valuable
equipment, and, possibly, what I'll be up against in the future. I
don't care about you or your worthless rebellious troops._

Sean had made a conscious note to cut off the communications when he
first heard the ringing sound of laser beams shooting through the air,
even when Inglesmore remained too self-absorbed to do so himself. And
now it seemed to be paying off. He watched with fascination as the two
dark entities flew at Inglesmore and killed him with two quick, fluid
movements.

Thoughts had begun to go through Sean's mind as to how he might
integrate them into the AGFFSDIAIA when he saw something large and
terrifying, even for him, grow out of the wall of flames directly in
front of the destroyed Communications Building.

From the moment he saw the creature form in the flames to the moment
it sent a giant wave of fire at the surrounding camp and destroyed the
recording monitor, Sean knew this was more serious than he had
initially believed.

Sean turned to pick up the phone. He dialed a quick, three-digit
number, and remained silent for a long moment while the phone rang on
the other end. Finally:

"Hello, Mr. Johnson?" Sean said testily. "We've got a problem."


+++
8:25
AGFF City
Police Department, Precinct 101
+++


In the middle of a loud shower of rain, hail, and high winds, it all
stopped.

The rain did not slow to a drizzle before stopping, the hail did not
let out a few last pellets before calling it a day, and the winds did
not calm down before halting. On the contrary, the rain was storming
as much as ever, accompanied by a sharp wind and an equal amount of
little rocks of hail. Then nothing. It all just stopped in its tracks.

That was the first amazing thing that happened. The second amazing
thing that happened had very little to do with the first thing, though
it did, indeed, seem to have an effect on the Planet when it happened.

The moon turned a deadly red hue, and remained that way for a long
moment. Unright put a reflexive hand in front of his face when he felt
a sudden wave of heat fly down upon him from the skies. And,
simultaneously, he could hear a loud, rumbling, angry roar from all
around, shaking the very earth beneath him. And the clouds above
mysteriously, for the most part, disappeared altogether. A few dark
gray clouds covered a meager amount of the sky, but not enough to
blanket the brilliant sight of the stars above, intensifying the night
sky with a beautiful natural magic from horizon to horizon.

Then the Moon shifted to its usual color, the ground ceased to tremble
the least bit, the world seemed to return altogether to normal, and
Unright had a frightening feeling in his gut that the Frankendillo was
about to draw first blood.

"Robinson!" he shouted, rushing to the distracted police chief and
taking his attention. "Listen. I have made a terrible mistake. There
is a creature out there on the loose that is of my creation, and if we
do not do something to stop it, I will have blood on my hands. It will
kill somebody. We have to hurry to stop it."

"What?" Robinson replied, alarmed. "Have you reported it?"

"Yes,.. Well, yes, I tried. That officer wouldn't believe me."

"What?" Robinson repeated, turning an angry eye to the officer sitting
at his "expensive" desk and sneaking a donut out of one of its
drawers. He immediately tossed the donut back into the drawer and
caught Robinson's gaze. "You didn't believe him when he brought to
your attention a possible homicide?"

"Well, frankly, sir, I thought it was a prank."

"That is not the way we operate here, Officer Murray!" Robinson
snapped at the man. "Leave your badge on my desk. You're fired.
Unright, come along. You can explain in the car. Hopefully, we will
still arrive in time to avoid a slaughter!"

"Bu-but, sir." the officer protested as Robinson grabbed his coat and
rushed out of the police station.


***


"I want an all points alert put out around the Dwarfsmere area," Chief
Robinson snapped into the radio reciever as he sped down Alameda
Boulevard. "Particularly on Elles Hyme Avenue, around the Laboratory
of Unright on 482 Kingston Street! Put the all points alert out on a.
carnivorous Armadillo."

"Undead carnivorous Armadillo," Unright corrected him.

"Scratch that," Chief Robinson barked into the reciever. "An undead
carnivorous Armadillo."


+++
8:26
AGFF City
Elles Hyme Avenue
+++


".so, all we have to do is wander around, find these weird items, find
whoever these people we're supposed to find are, intervene in their
lives, and then we can go home!" Stan finished.

They were walking down an empty Elles Hyme Avenue, not knowing they
were on Elles Hyme Avenue, and hopelessly lost. No one replied for a
while. Kyle sniffed at the air, and looked, mildly confused, between
his friends and the dark sidewalk ahead of him.

"What's that smell?" he asked.

Out of the underbrush in front of them, they heard a loud roar and a
hideous creature drooling green ooze leaped out of the shadows to face
them.

"HOLY CRAP!" Stan shouted. "It's Scuzzlebutts!"

The Frankendillo roared and stepped forward, one bloody claw
outstretched toward the children.

"Mrpmrpmrpmrpmrpmrpmrpmr," Kenny declared, "mprormmsemrmorm..
mpmhpmhpmemphmwpme!"

"Oh yeah, it is an armadillo," Kyle commented.

"Yes, I should have realized that from the size of its genitals,"
Cartman added. "You are so correct, Kenny."

"Mrpmhprm."

The Frankendillo roared again, and hunger flared in Her eyes. She got
up onto Her hind legs and stepped forward. Both of Her front claws,
drizzling with water and blood and green drool, were deadly sharp,
pointed at the heads of the children.

"Dude, this is seriously suckass," Stan commented nervously.

"Go on, Cartman," Kyle said, pushing Cartman forward in front of him.
Stan and Kenny leaped behind him.

"Ey!" Cartman exclaimed, "What'd think you're doin???"

"We're gonna use you as a human shield, dumbass!" Kyle answered.

"Ey, you guys!" Cartman retorted, shaking his head both at the boys
and the frightening creature standing in front of them. "You can't do
this to me! Ey!"

The Frankendillo roared one final hideous roar and leaped at them.

Cartman screamed and ran out into the street, leaving Stan, Kyle, and
Kenny alone.

Stan and Kyle managed to leap out of the way just in time as the
Frankendillo leaped down at where they had been previously standing,
but Kenny simply did not move fast enough. The Frankendillo tore into
his flesh with all of Her claws, threw him to the ground and began to
chew hideously on his face.

"OH MY GOD!" Kyle screamed, pointing an accusing finger at the
Frankendillo. "THEY KILLED KENNY! YOU BASTARDS!!!"

The Frankendillo looked hungrily up from the remains of Kenny and
gazed at the two remaining children. She withdrew her claws from
Kenny's corpse and hunched predatorily toward them.

"AAAAAAAHHHHH!" Stan and Kyle screamed as they ran off into the
street, just as the Frankendillo leaped from Kenny's corpse and
charged off after them, just barely missing them on Her initial leap
by mere inches.


+++
8:26
AGFF City
Mary's House
+++


The sudden odd shift in the already unusual weather and the sudden end
of the storm left Mary - and the others among her, with the possible
exception of Visionus - curious as to what the heck was going on
outside. Going outside left them with absolutely no answers; only more
questions. The rain had stopped- they could tell that when they were
inside, but who at all could explain the sudden disappearance of
almost all of the clouds that had contributed to the storm, and the
total lack of any winds, rain, or hail?

If that was not confusing enough, the fact that the Moon was now
glowing red, the night was overwhelmingly hot, the ground was shaking
mildly, and Mary was now developing a sunburn on her right arm
certainly accentuated the point.

"So," Mary began, turning back to Visionus questioningly when the Moon
shifted back to its usual color, the ground stopped trembling, and the
heat of the previous few moments began to dissipate, "is any of this
described in your scriptures?"

"Well, yes and no. Like I said, it was fairly vague. Yes, I can
interpret most of this into the Prophecy, but most would be guessing,
really," Visionus said, and then he glanced pointedly back up at the
Moon. "I can say one thing is most definitely in the Prophecy,
however. The Moon glowing red with the heat of Halr-aa, the Sun God.
In the coming days, Halr-aa will either break free of his lunar
prison, raining chunks of the Moon down from the skies on to the
planet, with the result of numerous tidal waves, worldwide
earthquakes, and various other natural disasters - heralding the end
of the world as we know it. Or the God of the Moon Himself will
intervene and defeat Halr-aa at his own game."

"Well." Mary began, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, "in that case, is
there anything we can do to help the Moon God?"

Visionus paused. "No, not really," he said bluntly. "Nothing said in
the Prophecy, anyhow."

"Then no point worrying about it, is there? I'd much rather think
about what I can influence than what I can't. Shall we go back
inside?"

Followed immediately by Falconer, Mary started back to the door and
returned to the main room. Awkwardly, Visionus, Dana, Rachel, and the
four Gann0n Clones soon followed after.


+++
8:29 PM
AGFF City
The Ruins of Unright's Laboratory
+++


The police vehicle slowed to a stop at the end of the long driveway
leading to Unright's Laboratory amidst a hundred rescue and emergency
vehicles, the occupants of many of them beginning to realize now that
there was no one to rescue. Unright and Chief Robinson leaped out of
the vehicle, and Unright rushed about toward the ruins of the front
gates and charged toward the burning building. Chief Robinson grabbed
him in midstride, and turned him about.

"Stop!" Robinson roared. "It's dangerous in there!"

"Let go of me!" Unright protested. "This is much bigger than my own
personal health!"

"Yes, but if you die." Robinson said without letting go of Unright's
shoulders, "then who will still be here to help us find this creature?
Unright, put on your thinking cap! You can't just charge in there
while there is so much danger. Leave that to the professionals. We can
do what we can out here."

Unright stopped fighting and stopped listening, gazing into the ruins,
his eyes already focusing on something. He didn't need to go in.

Directly in front of him, past several broken walls and destroyed
materials of other sorts, he could see the lab table and the capsule.
It was broken and the green fluids of nectar he had used to keep the
Frankendillo Experiment alive were spread across the table and on the
floor. There was no sign of Her.

"Sh-She's gone." he gasped.

"What? What?" Chief Robinson replied, "who's gone?"

"She. my armadillo. my Creature. She's gone. She's free."

Presently, Chief Robinson could tell there was a flurry of activity
back down on the street nearby. Rescue people were shouting and people
were racing back and forth frantically between their rescue vehicles
and the street.

Unright clutched Chief Robinson by the coat desperately. "Don't you
see?" he continued, glancing back the direction of the street. "It's
too late. She's drawn first blood. And She will kill again."

Chief Robinson opened his mouth to respond, and searched for the words
to calm Unright. Instead of saying anything, however, he looked back
toward the street and, wordlessly, rushed down to check out the scene
on the street below.


+++
8:29
AGFF City
Mary's House
+++


"There have been signs. Signals, from the gods, and I have reason to
believe that with the destruction of the Moon and the release of the
Dragons of Elements - among other things - the Light and the Dark
Warriors will resume their battle against each other, the balance will
shift for one side or the other, and when that happens, the whole of
the planet stands a good chance of being destroyed."

"So, what can we do about it?" Dana inquired. "There has to be a
reason for you to have called us here tonight. Do you intend for us to
be the Light Warriors?"

Visionus shook his head. "No. But you will be in the midst of the
conflict. and you do play a major role."

The jaws of Mary, Dana, Falconer, Rachel, and, after a brief pause,
the four Gann0n Clones opened in shock and awe.

"No, I don't mean that," Visionus quickly added. "You are not the Dark
Warriors, either, though they do indeed exist, and exist aplenty."

"Then.?" Mary added after Visionus didn't say anything for a long
moment. She looked confused, she sounded as confused as everyone else
in the room undoubtedly was, with the exceptions of the four Gann0n
Clones, who looked like they were trying to be, but were actually
quite terrible actors.

"There is a Force. that plays a role of major importance in the
prophecy. a group of Warriors to keep the balance from shifting too
far.

"You see," he continued, pacing about the room slowly, "even if your
friends you saw fighting on the television tonight succeed in
everything they do, retrieve all of the artifacts, defeat all who
stand in their way, by means of a chain reaction." Visionus paused.
"They will bring about the Apocalypse they seek to avoid."

"So, we're the Warriors who keep the balance in order, then?" Mary
concluded uneasily.

"YES," Visionus said. "You are. You're the Gray Warriors, whose common
goals may join with or go against either Force at any time during the
course of your journeys, but will always stay independent from the
main forces battling it out, using the world as their arena. You will
come and go like thieves in the night, and you shall never stay in one
place for long. I cannot say much more, but.

"You must come with me to Mount Ordeals," Visionus said quietly. "For
it is there that we might find the scriptures of Ulreican Prophecy.
which we can compare with Mysidian Scrolls. and learn, more
specifically, your part in all of this. Only then can we hope to save
the lives of millions of innocents and, more importantly, the life of
the Planet itself."

"You said 'for' or 'against' . either side," Dana quickly interjected.
"Does that mean.you mean.we will be brought to duel against our own
friends.the Light Warriors?"

Visionus let in a long sigh, and looked Dana frankly in the eye. "Yes.
I'm afraid, at some point, you will."


+++
8:31
AGFF City
Elles Hyme Avenue
+++


A crowd was already gathering around the corpse and by the time Chief
Robinson and Unright made it to the street, the crowd already was too
large for even one with as much status as Robinson to get through to
the center of the whole mess without too much trouble.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" he ordered repeatedly the fire fighting
personnel and rescue people with a flash or two of his badge for each
person. Word of his notorious reputation for having little tolerance
of disobedience from junior officers - which was, pretty much,
everyone - had obviously traveled, for as soon as any given officer,
fire fighter, or rescue person saw his badge, they would clear out of
the way. And so, slowly, miraculously, a path cleared for Chief
Robinson and Unright, and soon they stood in front of the corpse with
their stomachs in their throats.

The victim must have been only a child, small and bundled up in a
little poncho. It looked, from some shades, to have once been orange,
but it now for the most part was red with the child's blood. Pieces of
his or her body were strewn around the corpse and even the little
head, still bundled up in the remains of the hood, seemed decapitated
from the body, like the neck had been torn out.

"Good. Bob." Unright whispered while, simultaneously, an equally
horrified Chief Robinson whispered "Bahamut's Blood." and with several
swift motions of his fingers made an immediate religious sign on his
chest.

"I. I caused this. It's too late. My creation killed an innocent
little child, my creation is a monster!" Unright almost wailed.

Chief Robinson didn't respond, simply stood over the child's body for
a long moment, his head bowed. A tear exited his eye.

"That could have been Jerry," he whispered. Then, in a growl: "C'mon.
Let's see if we can find this monster."

Without another word, he shoved his way back through the surrounding
crowd, followed by a hysterical Unright.


+++
8:32
AGFF City
Mary's House
+++


Visionus' latest statement brought everyone to an awed silence. It was
a long time before anyone said anything, and when someone finally did,
it was Rachel Green - angry.

"No," she murmured out of the low of her throat, looking pointedly
into the eyes of the warrior dentist. "No," she repeated, louder.
"Most of what you've said this evening I could listen to and - with
some optimism - attempt to believe. After all, this IS AGFF, home of
the weird. But I cannot listen to this!"

She stood up. No one responded. Visionus did not flinch from her gaze.

"If we're not light warriors, and we're not dark, and we work with and
backstab both groups, than perhaps we're the most immoral of them all.
Who says we have the right to intervene, put the lives of those who
are trying to _help_ on the line? You?"

Visionus breathed in a deep breath and replied, calmly, "Miss Green -
or A. Wierdo, which do you prefer? - I am not trying to tell you you
must work with or backstab anybody. Your paths, however, may cross,
and to do what we need to do, we might have to put aside stubborn
Light and Dark Warriors. If it is at all possible, we will work
together to make certain your friends are uninjured as a result of our
intervention. But their lives, your lives, everyone's lives depend on
us having the courage to face our role in the Prophecy and keep the
Light Warriors and the Dark Warriors from entirely destroying
themselves!

"In the end, we do them the greatest of service." Visionus trailed
off, only to be interrupted again by Rachel.

"You keep mentioning the Prophecy," Rachel challenged, "but, Doctor,
how do you even know there _is_ a Prophecy? One that can be trusted, I
mean? For the sake of Ajora, did you ever think for one moment that
perhaps these events are happening regardless of your bloody Prophecy
and, even, maybe the Prophecy will _never_ come true?"

Visionus shook his head. "No, Rachel," he said after a moment. "No, I
did not. And I do not. There are simply too many aspects to think it
all coincidence."

"Rachel," Mary added, surprised to be doing so even as she opened her
mouth, "I know it's a lot to think over. and a lot to commit yourself
to. but we have to believe in this. Because, if we don't, and he's
right, then it's a lot to lose. And. if no one believed during the
time of Cecil and the Baronian Wars. perhaps they would not have
survived to battle Zeromus and bring all of the kingdoms and states to
peace, and the world would be a far stray from the one we know now. We
must believe. Because, if we don't, who will?"

Rachel stopped and turned to face them all, her eyes wide. She inhaled
and exhaled a full long breath and shrugged her shoulders. "If you say
so, Mary," she said, "I'll go. Just in case. But it will take more
than one long monologue from your dentist to change my feelings on
this matter."

"In the long run," Visionus murmured, "it will not be a choice you
regret."


+++
Earlier
AGFF City
Greg's House
+++


If it weren't for the steady rise and fall of his stomach, Greg
could've sworn Jason was dead. He did not twist, did not turn, did not
move his head, and the expression on his face had not changed since he
first lost consciousness earlier that day. It was like he was in a
coma.

"Is it just me." Omatu murmured lazily beside him, "or has the storm
dissipated awfully quick?"

Greg felt a sudden wave of heat pass through his body up from the sky
above him, and looked up through the giant window that made for a good
deal of the front wall of his small house. Up in the sky, the Moon
flashed red as blood, and remained that color for a long moment.

"What the heck.?" Greg began, picking himself up off of the ground and
staring at the brilliant yet frightening sight in the sky, as did
Omatu, Michael, and Small Girl, all of whom lay next to him on the
large weathered beanbag pillows he had gotten at Archerio's almost
five years before. None spoke as the Moon flared, and died down, back
to its original color.

"Great Mother of the Stars," Omatu finally murmured, "what is it that
we have seen?"

"I am not quite certain," Slipgate, standing in human form in the
doorway, "but it cannot be a good thing."

Greg turned, surprised, to look Slipgate's direction, having not heard
him approaching. "What do you think it could be?"

Slipgate shrugged and stepped forward. "I am not quite sure. All I
know is that the Mysidian Prophecy once spoke of a day when the Moon
flared red as blood, crying in agony for all its dead people. I've
never understood what that meant, and I still do not."

Greg slowly lowered himself back onto the beanbag pillow and let out a
tired sigh. "Well," he murmured. "The fact that the entire storm ended
moments before the Moon flared as it did tells me it was a
supernatural storm, as though I hadn't been convinced of that entirely
already. After all, since when do we have hurricanes, especially at
this time of year, with absolutely NO forewarning?"

"True enough, Greggy-san!" Small Girl chirped in annoyingly. "But at
least it got rid of the reporters!"

"Yeah," Omatu added with a dry chuckle, leaning back onto the beanbag
pillow and pulling Small Girl down with him. "At least. Gods, do they
have absolutely nothing better to do with their time? We aren't even
that big news. This terrible storm's much bigger news than us - or
anything we've ever done, really."

"Well, you have to credit them for something," Slipgate spoke up.
"They had the sense to clear the area when I turned into a dragon and
breathed fire at them."

"No big surprise," Michael replied. "Just like humans, reporters have
survival instincts."

"Thanks again for that, by the way, Slipgate, bud," Greg said. "If it
weren't for you, we probably wouldn't have even gotten Jason here.
Thank the gods I had sense enough to rent an apartment near downtown."

"Speaking of which," Slipgate said, "now that the storm's gone and the
reporters are preoccupied, if you don't mind, I'm going to go downtown
and see if there's anything happening tonight. And - provided you've
exhausted your, ahhh, urges - any and all of you are welcome to come
along."

Michael hesitated, then nodded. "Sounds like fun to me. I personally
can't see myself, ahhh, following any more of my urges tonight, at
least not for a few more hours. How about you, Small Girl?"

"Sure!" she said.

"I'm all for seein' what's happening in town," Omatu said, "but I
doubt there's much. I mean, until just a minute ago, the weather
wouldn't really allow anything beyond the basic bars and clubs to
remain open, if even them. There's going to be some really severe
flooding."

Greg looked disappointed.

"Well," he said, "somebody ought to stay here to watch over Jason just
in case he wakes up, so it might as well be me. I guess I'll see you
all later."

"You sure, Greg?" Slipgate asked, "I mean, we could alternate."

"No, no, it's perfectly fine," Greg brushed them off. "Just go, and
enjoy yourselves. I'll, ahhh, see you all again tonight."

"Okay, sure," Omatu said. "See ya later, Greg."

Slipgate moved toward the door and opened it, then moved to the coat
rack and took his own - a long trench coat resembling one a detective
might wear. This action was followed by each of the others in turn, as
well as several farewell nods and "see yas" from each of the departing
AGFFers.

Then the door shut behind the last AGFFer and Greg was alone. He
glanced down at the beanbag pillow, then back up through the window at
his friends.

"Damn," he said.

+++
8:46 PM
AGFF City
Downtown
+++


They spent much of their time, when walking down the dark and empty
streets of the normally crowded downtown area, thinking about
different personal manners in each of their lives, and most of what
they saw went without comment. For what comment was there to make,
after all, when every sight they passed was similar to, and sometimes
seemingly exactly the same as, the sights they passed before?

It was true, some sights bared noticing, such as buildings whose very
foundations had given out under duress, and lay sprawled on the cement
of the street, or street signs and doors which had been taken by the
power of the storm out, shattered into the street. But for the most
part, the buildings and the streets remained in a similar condition to
the condition they had been in before the storm, save for the fact
that all of the electricity around seemed to be out, shrouding most of
the city in darkness.

And so they walked in silence, a silence interrupted only by the
steady thumping of their feet against the streets, the occasional
sound of sirens blaring a distance away, and the quiet undertones of
people talking to each other in the surrounding buildings. Every so
often, they would see another person walking down the street, but
never were words exchanged with these people. Barely a glance, in
fact, before they would walk out of sight to the four wandering
AGFFers.

This relative silence went unbroken for a long while until:

"Hey," Michael murmured. "You hear something?"

Slipgate, whose ears were best among the group's due to his draconic
ancestry, stopped in midwalk and listened intently. Beside him, others
did the same, though none of them could hope to hear the faraway
sounds as well as he did.

In the distance, he heard the sound of instruments playing an odd tune
in a strange style he had never heard before in all his years on AGFF.
The music was of a faster, more. electric pace than he was used to.

This is what he heard:

"I'm a king bee
buzzing round your hive
I'm a king bee baby
buzzing round your hive
Together we can make honey now baby
If you let me come inside
I'm a king bee"

"It's. music," he murmured to the other three. "And an odd kind of
music. I've never heard anything like it before."

"All that matters, Slipgate-san," Small Girl said, "is if it's GOOD
music. Is it good music?"

Slipgate paused. He hadn't yet made his mind up on that. He listened
further before saying anything.

"I want you to be my queen
Well I'm a king bee, baby
Want you to be my queen
Well together we can make honey, baby
The world has never seen
Okay let's buzz a while"

"Ahhhh." he muttered. "I'd say so, yes."

"But who'd be playing music right now?" Omatu inquired.

"Shall we find out?"

They continued their walk, now with a destination of sorts in mind.

"A buzz buzz (buzz buzz)
A buzz buzz (buzz buzz)"

They rounded a corner to find themselves on the usually semi-popular
street block of Granville and Ashen. Like most of the rest of the city
they had walked through, all of the street lights were out, and only
one building on the block - as far as Slipgate could tell - had any
electricity at all.

The music was coming from that building. Well-lit as it was, it stood
out among the other buildings - all of which resembled, at this hour,
ruins of a dead city - and the music was most assuredly coming from
it, for, through the large glass window at the front, they could see
the musicians buzzing the tune. The pair of singers - for there were
no more than two of them - were dressed in odd yellow and black
costumes, obviously designed to replicate the look of bees, though
Slipgate found the costumes very unconvincing. As far as Slipgate
could tell - and he was usually right about these things - the two
singers were both male.

The entire street was, surprisingly, filled with parked cars and the
lit building from which all of the sound ascended from was packed to
the brim. It seemed, Slipgate considered in a fit of
over-exaggeration, he had found where most of the residents of AGFF
City had hidden away. The newest in a long line of coffeehouses built
on this block, the musicians were playing inside the "A Whole Latte
Lovin'" Coffee House.

"A buzz buzz (buzz buzz)
A buzz buzz (buzz buzz)"


After only a moment's pause to take in their surroundings, Michael,
Omatu, Small Girl, and Slipgate walked on toward the coffeehouse with
hardly a glance between them.

"I'm a king bee," the singer closer to the window at the front sang,
"I can buzz all night long. Well I'm a king bee, baby. I can buzz all
night long. Well I can buzz better, baby, when your man is gone."

The band behind them threw their instruments into the song and spent a
short period of time going over the basic tune. Finally, the
instruments ground to a halt, and there was silence, followed by the
cheers of an impressed crowd.

"Thank you," the man closer to the window said into a microphone once
the cheering, too, had died down. Michael Goldman got to the glass
doors and held them open for the other three. "That was King Bee by
Slim Harpo. It was the song Jake and I first sang back in the days of
Saturday Night Live. And it was probably because of that song that
we're here playing for you today."

"Next up," the other man, Jake, said, "is a song by Gamble and Huff.
It's one of our favorites, and we hope it's one of yours, too.
Expressway to your Heart, Elwood!"

"Right on, Jake!" Elwood cried back. All at once, the Band began to
play a high, upbeat tune with a disco feel, yet the pace of common
rock music.

"I've been trying to get to you. for a long time!" Jake sang. "'Cuz
constant-ly! You've been on my mind! I was thinking 'bout a short cut
that I could take, but I found. I made a mistake!"

"I was wrong!" Elwood piped in to his own microphone. "It took too
long. I got caught in a rush hour, Fellows started to shower you with
love and affection."

"Now you won't look in my direction!" Jake finished.

"On the express-way," Jake and Elwood sang together. "To your heart!
That expressway! That's the best way!"

"At five o'clock it's much too crowded," Jake continued alone.

"Too crowded!" Elwood and the other members of the band piped in.

"Much too crowded!" Jake added.

"Too crowded!" Elwood and the other members of the band repeated.

"Much too crowded!" Jake sang again, followed by the usual chorus of
"Too crowded!" by Elwood and the others.

"Too crowded for me." Jake sang, and continued, without missing a
beat, "Couldn't get through to you, baby! Oh, it's too crowded!"

Jake stepped back from the microphone in beat with the music and did a
360-degree turn on his heels as the band continued to play. He stepped
up to the microphone again, and sang, as another verse, "Well,
there're too many in back of me-and they're all tryin' to get in front
of me! I was thinking I saw a road up ahead. but I saw a stoplight
instead!"

Elwood stepped up to the microphone and sang on, "I was wrong. It took
too long. I got caught in a rush hour, fellows started to shower-you
with love and affection!"

"Now you won't look in my direction!" Jake and Elwood sang. "On the
express-way, to your heart. That express-way! That's the best way!"

They both stepped back and took in their breath while the band played
on the tune of the previous verses without a word from them. They
clapped their hands together as they passed each other, and took up
positions in front of the opposite microphone.

Michael's eyes were fixed on the performers, and he had an awed,
hypnotized look in his eyes. Small Girl looked equally impressed, and
she danced to the beat at the front by the stage with a number of
others, most of them strangers to the four Light Warriors. Omatu hung
back with Slipgate, holding himself stiffly with embarrassment at the
prospect of dancing.

Slipgate himself wasn't quite sure what to make of the musicians.
Attempts to read their minds had come up blank, yet it left him with a
satisfied, trustful feeling in his gut with every attempt. Instantly,
he felt ashamed for snooping into their minds, and quickly resolved to
stop being so paranoid. Within seconds, he, too, was dancing along
with the beat.

His last refuge gone, Omatu darted off to the men's room, nearly
tripping over several dancing patrons as he did so.

"I was wrong," Elwood sang again, "it took too long. I got caught in a
rush hour, fellows started to shower-you with love and affection."

"Now you won't look in my direction!" Jake and Elwood sang together.
"On the express-way! To your heart! That express-way! That's the best
way!

"On the express-way! To your heart!" they repeated, "That express-way!
That's the best way!"

"At five o'clock," Jake went on, "it's too crowded."

"Too crowded!" Elwood and the band piped in.

"Much too crowded!"

"Too crowded!"

"Much too crowded!"

"Too crowded!"

"Too crowded!" Jake sang.

"Too crowded!"

"Too crowded for me." Jake ended. "Just couldn't get through, baby."

"Oh, too crowded." Elwood and the band sang on. "Oh, oh, oh, much too
crowded. Oh, oh, oh, much too crowded."

The band played on and finished a final verse of music before quieting
down. As soon as the song had finished, the crowd began to cheer. Jake
grabbed a bottle sitting on the side of the stage and took a long
swig. Elwood nodded at him and extended a hand, and Jake handed the
bottle to him. At which point Elwood took a swig as well.

Omatu appeared from the restroom, glanced nervously both ways, and
walked slowly, with doubt, toward the sweating dragon.

"It's okay stuff," Omatu said, taking Slipgate's attention momentarily
from the musicians, "but the entire atmosphere. of dancing like this.
It's not my thing, man. I can't say I really enjoy this type of-"

"Thank you," Jake said into a microphone, stopping Omatu in
midsentence. All eyes turned to the stage. "Thank you," Jake repeated.
"Again, that was 'Expressway to your heart' by Gamble and Huff."

Jake stepped away from the microphone and Elwood took this moment to
speak. "We're going to take a break now, but don't you leave! Give us
twenty minutes, and we'll be back!"

The crowd cheered again, and Jake, at the back of the stage, flicked a
switch and turned the extra standby electrical lights on, lighting the
entire room up in a bright yellow. People instantly shielded their
eyes and a number of them groaned in unison at this. Somebody turned a
tape on and the classical style of music the inhabitants of AGFF City
had become accustomed to played quietly in the background.

Jake and Elwood walked over to the bar, followed by a couple dozen of
their most eager fans, crowding around them even as they sat on
separate stools and each took a bottle from the equally eager
bartender. For a moment, they disappeared in the crowd, and Slipgate
had to squint and raise himself to his tiptoes just to see them.

With a start, Slipgate noticed Michael among the crowd of fans,
muscling his way through the most eager of them toward Jake and
Elwood. He still looked hypnotized - _awed obviously,_ Slipgate
thought - and his attention seemed fixed entirely on the two
musicians.

"That was fun!" a terribly sweaty Small Girl announced, stepping up
beside Slipgate and Omatu. "Omatu-san, why didn't you join in?"

"I, errr, really don't take much interest in that kind of thing."
Omatu mumbled quietly.

Now Michael was talking to the two musicians and pointing toward
Slipgate. Nothing read on Jake's face; he took another swig of his
beer. Elwood smiled and nodded at them.

Not knowing what else to do, Slipgate nodded back.

"Michael's talking to them?" Small Girl chattered excitedly.

"Yes," answered Slipgate.

Michael continued to speak and nod, and, finally, Jake beckoned them
over with a wave of a hand.

Slipgate felt compelled to follow the beckoning - not like he wouldn't
have, anyway. In the spirit of friendliness, one should always try to
stay on other people's good side; besides, he wouldn't mind having a
talk with these musicians.

"Come on," he said. Omatu shuffled uneasily, but reluctantly followed
a few steps beside Slipgate. Small Girl, on the other hand, skipped
enthusiastically past Slipgate, toward the crowd.

The crowd murmured quietly as they approached - why wouldn't they?
Slipgate supposed. To be singled out by such talented musicians so
quickly was an honor indeed! His draconic ego began to develop
inwardly and it showed in the proud, chin-up manner he approached
with.

"Good evening," he said quickly once the musicians were within hearing
range. Jake beckoned them to sit on the three stools to his left. One
glower from Elwood was all it took to draw the nearest unwelcome
drunkards away from the stools. "You two have talent - I am honored to
be speaking to you right now," Slipgate continued politely.

"Have a drink," Elwood said, pushing a glass mug of frothy beer toward
him.

"I, ah, don't." Slipgate began. Then his manners kicked in, and he
sucked his breath. It wouldn't kill him, one drink. "Thank you," he
finished, picked up the glass, and drew it to his mouth.

"You guys were so great!" Small Girl chirped, taking a seat right
beside Slipgate. "I've never heard anything like that! Where did you
learn your skills?"

Elwood exchanged a quick glance with Jake, then smiled at her. "We
were brought up at an orphanage, St. Mary's, to be exact. While there,
we befriended an old black musician and janitor named Curtis. He
taught us all the old classics, and we taught him all we knew about
baseball. He and a nun, they was the only family we got. And he was
the only one who ever treated us right." Elwood paused. "Those were
the days, huh Jake?"

Jake nodded. "To the good old days and more like 'em," and he raised
his bottle. Elwood raised his own mug and Slipgate, slow to the punch
these days, just barely managed remembered to raise the mug from his
lips to the other drinks in time for the toast - in doing so, he let
out a quick embarrassed natural behavioural cough.

They lowered the glasses, and for a long moment, none of them said
anything. Omatu took a long swig of his drink, hesitated, and quickly
excused himself.

"So." Elwood began, nodding at Slipgate. "Tell me. What do you do for
a living? Where do you go?"

"What do you do when someone you know gets sick?" Jake piped in.

"Well, uh." Slipgate began, thinking quickly. Gets sick? What kind of
question was that? A wall of decade-old suspicions began to reform on
the friendly visages of the brother musicians. Immediately, he dropped
it, assuming it to be stupid, untrusting, and impolite, and set to
answer the other questions. His inner manners-fanatic hoped the
suspicion in his eyes hadn't been noticed. "I'll answer those
chronologically, if you like. Uh. What I do for a living? I'm a jack
of all trades, really. Either that or a jack of no trades. Depends on
your point of view. Come to think of it, I guess I could be classified
as a prophet, an adventurer, a psychic. hmmm. I've done a fair bit of
writing in my time, and. I mean, as career, very little, because I
live life as it comes. I've never done any of that career stuff. Gets
in the way of things, and I figure if I can survive without it, why is
it worth the bother?

"Anyway," Slipgate went on, now on a roll. "As for where I go, I'm
afraid my answer will be rather similar to the last. I go to where the
world takes me. I do what I feel called to do, I go where I want to go,
and if I wasn't so spiritually-oriented that last bit would have
sounded like the title to an old Beatles song." He laughed, and went
on, "like I said, I'm an adventurer. That's what I do. I fight for
worthy causes."

"Me too!" Small Girl said. No one responded, least of all Slipgate,
who was hardly aware she had spoken at all.

He stopped and waited. Slipgate remembered this phase quite well, and
it was one reason why he avoided it. Too many drinks, and he'd tell
all, complete with corny jokes and everything. And it had been well
over 150 years since his last drink. His blood tolerance was low.

"And what about people getting sick, dragon-man?" Jake went on. Elwood
lowered his head to the right and looked away. "What do you do when
people around you get sick?"

Despite himself , all of the hairs on Slipgate's back pricked up with
suspicion, and his eyes clouded over with it. _Stop, dammit!_ he told
himself. _You're being silly! It's a perfectly innocent thing to ask!_

Slipgate grabbed the mug with ferocity and took another swig of
alcohol down his throat. As the drink went down his throat, many of
his suspicions went as well, and by the time his eyes returned to the
brothers Blue, his stare was friendly once again. Still, doubts spoke
inside of him to remain silent about the plight of Jason, told him to
speak of it would be a terrible mistake.

So, he went on, "I usually take them to the nearest doctor, and see
what's wrong." He paused. "Why?"

"Oh, no big reason," Jake said, shrugging his shoulders dismissively
and taking another long swig of his drink. "It's just that we're
registered doctors and it seemed. well, you looked worried about
something earlier, and we wondered if it had anything to do with. uh.
Right, Elwood?"

"Right, Jake," Elwood said.

"Wow, that's so amazing!" Small Girl said. "Because it just so happens
that our friend Jason is sick. He turned into a glowing woman earlier
in the day and."

It was all Slipgate could to repress a groan as Small Girl spilled the
beans about what happened to Jason, and how they couldn't take Jason
to a doctor because they were worried about the AGFFSDIAIA getting
them in trouble. He delivered a hard elbow into Small Girl's stomach
when she began to talk about the Prophecy.

"Enough, Small Girl!" he hissed, unable to hold himself back any
longer. "Those are not matters to speak of to just anybody! How do you
know the musicians are sided with Light?"

Small Girl opened her mouth to reply, then closed and lowered her
eyes. It was true. "Sorry, Slipga-san."

The entire interaction had been too loud, Slipgate realized abruptly.
His inner manners-fanatic had failed. He turned back to the musicians,
ready to face anger and resentment, only to find that their
expressions had not changed one whit since he turned away from them.

"Um, sorry." he began.

"No, no, not at all!" Jake brushed it off. "These are troubled times.
You have a right to doubt! Don't worry about it! Just drink! Drink
with us!"

And so it went. They continued to chatter about mostly trivial things
and drink, until:

"Listen, Jake and I need to get back up on the stage," Elwood said,
glancing back and forth between the crowd and Slipgate urgently. "But
if you'd like, we can come over and look at your friend."

Before Slipgate could move to reply, Michael, obviously already
inebriated, had already made up the decision for him. "Great!" he
exclaimed. "You guys are so kind! We'd be honored to have you over!
Sounds great!"

Slipgate let out an irritated sigh. "Okay," he said. "I'm sure he'll
be fine, but you can come over, I suppose. No problem. No problem at
all. Come over. I don't have any prob."

Jake and Elwood were already far out of hearing range, walking up
toward the wide podium on which the microphones stood. Jake spoke
first.

"Well, we've had our break, but now we're back. intoxicated. So here,
to reflect the mood and reflection we've gained through years of
getting drunk and waking up in someone else's bed. we present to you.
one of Curtis' old favorites. 'You Can Trust Me' by the Ribbons!"

He paused.

"Hit it, Elwood!"


+++
Later.
AGFF City
Downtown
+++


The street was filled with exiting AGFFers, most of which were exiting
from the one open club on Granville and Ashen, most of which were dead
drunk.

The performers were no exception to this, walking between the four
(also rather drunk) Light Warriors who had attended the performance.
Slipgate had only attempted a mug and a half, and he staggered as if
he had just fought a war. Small Girl was no longer her usual chipper
self; she walked at a crawl, her head bowed and her pace random.
Michael and Omatu groaned every so often, seemingly taking turns at
falling over into the mud and being helped up by the others. Even Jake
and Elwood showed signs of consumption, though they kept a steady
unwavering pace. They chatted, laughed raucously, and at one point,
all of the Light Warriors involved drunkenly attempted to sing "29-no
wait, 69. no I'm pretty sure it's 29. actually it's 99 Bottles . ahh,
fuck it".

As might be guessed from the title, the singing session never quite
took off, post-performance.

Finally, they started down the driveway to Greg's house.


+++
Minutes later
AGFF City
Greg's House
+++


Greg was blinking, obviously just awakened from a deep sleep, when he
opened the door to admit the Light Warriors. "Wassup." he mumbled.
"Hey. Who's the."

"Jake and Elwood Blues, pleased ta meet ya," Jake said, pulling
forward and clapping Greg on the back. "We have come to partake in
some of your finest wines. and look over the injured victim."

"We're doctors, you see," Elwood explained.

Greg looked questioningly over at Slipgate as Jake and Elwood pushed
their way past and into the main living room. Slipgate looked back at
him and shrugged defensively, as if to say, "it wasn't _my_ idea."

Soon, they had all crowded into the main room around Jason's limp
form, Jake and Elwood foremost among them. They brushed their hands
thoughtfully over their chins, they muttered "hmmm" a good lot, and
they paced about for a while without saying or doing much. Finally:

"Can you heal him, doctors?" Michael asked, sounding worried. "Will he
be okay?"

"All he needs is a. a." Jake began.

"Cardiovascular. liver withdrawal." Elwood continued.

"And, uh. HEEL replacement," Jake topped it.

"A LIVER WITHDRAWAL!?" Greg yelled. "What kind of treatment is that?
And what does his heel have to do with anything?"

"Mr. Cook," Elwood addressed him. "You must understand, this is a very
difficult procedure. And it is hard to explain, especially when one
is. ahem. inebriated. But I will do my best to explain it to you. The
liver. controls the transformation and. testosterone levels a good
deal, and it's obvious it is overgrown."

".with fungus." Jake added.

"Yes, and as far as the heel, Mr. Cook, the heel has been proven to be
a high sexual center by many tribal doctors. A little known fact is
that most enunches had their heels removed, rather than their
testicles. as a result."

Greg looked at the two with a look of disbelief and skepticism and
turned his gaze over to the other Light Warriors present, as if to ask
them "do you really believe any of this crap?"

None of the others present even noticed Greg's response, however.
Their concentration was focused primarily on Jake and Elwood, what
little concentration they had. Most were too drunk to disbelieve.
Slipgate's usually doubtful eyes were wide open with wonder and awe-
not a shred of him, or of any of the others present save for Greg,
allowed the possibility of Jake and Elwood bullshitting them. Greg
looked helplessly back at the two, now doubting instead his own
reality.

"Hoo boy," he said. "I need a drink."


+++
Much, much, MUCH later.
AGFF City
Greg's House
+++


Snoring filled the otherwise silent rooms of Greg's house, snoring and
wheezing. In the center of the crowded beanbag lay Jake and Elwood,
their eyes still hidden from view by their trademark sunglasses.
Surrounding them, collapsed on the beanbag and the floor lay Greg,
Slipgate, Small Girl, Omatu, and Michael. Of the assorted sleeping
Light Warriors, only one of them could be heard: Slipgate, whose
snores sounded suspiciously alike to a dragon's roars.

Jake was the first to move. He pushed Small Girl and Michael aside and
stood up, brushing himself off as he went. He then turned to his
brother (who was at the moment pushing Michael off of him) and helped
him to his feet as well.

Together, they walked on their tiptoes toward Slipgate. The
floorboards creaked, and they paused in midstride. The snoring
continued without pause. After a long moment, Jake (and Elwood behind
him) continued toward Slipgate. Once in front of him, they took a long
glance over at each other, and stepped right up to him.

Jake's chubby hands pulled slowly forward, toward a bright glowing red
medallion hanging on Slipgate's chest. His hands hesitated briefly at
the medallion itself, then moved up to Slipgate's neck and gingerly
unclipped it from around him. The medallion slid easily off. Slipgate
groaned, and mumbled, half-conscious, to himself.

Jake grabbed the medallion, threw it to Elwood, and rushed out of the
room. Elwood paused, blinked, and charged after him.

Meanwhile, Slipgate was already stirring, already aware something was
wrong, his draconian senses coming alive with a sudden feeling of
terrible loss. Before his eyes even opened, his body had shifted,
transformed, developed scales, and grew dramatically.

His eyes widened, red and shot and
shocked-turning-to-horror-turning-to-rage.

The front door slammed behind the departing Blues Bros.

Slipgate sat up, flapping his wings, opened his draconic maw, and
bellowed:

"My MEDALLION!!!"


+++
Seconds later
AGFF City
Outside Greg's House
+++


Jake and Elwood sprinted from the long driveway up toward the curb,
leapt over a thick bush - Elwood tripped, rolled, and, with a helpful
hand from his brother, was back on his feet again - and they came
running to a stop in front of a conveniently parked beautiful shiny
silver car with dark windows, dark paint job, and dark tires, rather
than the standard green in trend of late in AGFF City.

Elwood fumbled with the keys, threw open the door, and unlocked from
within the door to the passenger side. Jake threw the door open
equally roughly, jumped in. both car doors slammed, the engine
started, and the car sped off into the darkness.

Instants later, the exterior of Greg's exploded with action; the
windows shattered, walls fell, the roof caught on fire and collapsed
inwardly. A pair of giant black dragon wings were visible in the space
remaining for but a quick moment, then, fast as the eye could see,
Slipgate shot out onto the road, hesitated, then flew off after the
retreating car lights.


***


"Turn on the radio, will you?" Jake suggested.


***


"Calling all units." a voice crackled over the police radio. "Seems a
wild dragon has gotten loose. or there has been an act of terrorism. a
car, speeding along Falimortalis Drive. likely to have had something
to do with the destruction of 416 Granville Way. burning in fire. But
a dragon is in pursuit, over. Charges of endangerment. Calling all
units, we need you at Falimortalis between Cranberry and Main. Over.
Please?"

Chief Robinson glanced over at Unright, not quite sure what to say.
Unright looked back. He knew. Two and a half hours of searching had
yielded no results; only a number of false alarms and normal
armadillos scaring children. There were now much more immediate
concerns.

"Sorry, Unright." Chief Robinson murmured, swerving the car around
midway on the road, and speeding back the way they had came.

Unright only sighed and glanced out the window. His creature was still
alive, out there, wreaking havoc of a kind he could only imagine.


***


Craxton awoke in a cold sweat. The cold chill of something that had
been with him his entire life disappearing, a connection he had never
been without. love he never knew he had left him, a kind heart, a
spirit watching over him, a deep connection of father and son that
existed even in the space of their physical and emotional separation.

Craxton found he could no longer hold on to the anger. And a
terrifying thought burst into his mind, the only thing it could
possibly be.

"Slipgate's dead," he said.


***


Eyes red with fury, Slipgate sped through the air after the equally
fast car, all of his attention focused on a single object he could no
longer see, no longer feel. His only connection left with. them. Just
the thought of it brought more power into his limbs and he flew
forward, even faster than before.

The silver Stealth continued to gain speed, driving along the
residential blocks with nary a screech of burning rubber or slide of
unreliable wheels. Sirens blared in the distance, ignored.

For the first time since leaving Greg's house, Elwood turned the
steering wheel halfway through a quiet intersection. A nearby car
honked as the car turned on a dime to face it, sped within an inch of
the car's motor, and flipped to the right, barely avoiding it. Without
any pause, the Stealth sped off on its new direction, and the occupant
of the other car caught her breath.

Moments later, a large black shape attempted to turn, careened out of
control, slammed into the car, and, with the car in tow, crashed
through the entire foundation of a house on the corner. Four sleeping
bodies and a whole lot of debris covered Slipgate and the vehicle, but
only briefly; he shook himself, the debris and no-longer-sleeping
people flew off in blankets and sheets in various random directions.
Slipgate kicked the car aside and flew off after the Stealth, a phone
and answering machine wrapped around his neck.

The phone disconnected.


***


A police vehicle stopped in front of the Stealth.

Elwood gently pressed on the brakes.

The Stealth flew over the top of the police vehicle, leaving the
officer inside very confused.


***


Bleary-eyed, Greg, Michael, Omatu, and Small Girl sat among collapsed
roof tiles, watching a reporter on a small black and white television
set speaking of a "wild dragon" pursuing a silver Stealth. On the
right hand corner of the screen, a freeze frame of Slipgate showed his
eyes, manic and outraged, a very convincing image.

"Authorities from around the area are being called upon to come
together one more time tonight to face a wild dragon, suspected to
have escaped from the nearby circus," spoke the reporter. His voice
was calm, even amused, and he sounded almost as if he were a spectator
and not a news reporter. "And to stop an unidentified silver stealth
reportedly going faster than 240 miles per hour.

Mary's hand gripped Falconer's like a lifeline and leaned forward to
stare at the set.

"Slipgate." she whispered.

Falconer wrapped his arm around her comfortingly, and followed her
gaze to the set.

"The Bolnan Circus reported a young green dragon to have gone missing
during the terrorist attack at the AGFF Community Center earlier
today, but have doubts as to whether or not the dragon was alone in
escaping. Rebecca Kennedy reports."

The image cut to the exterior of some torched and disorganized
fairgrounds. In the background, tents could be seen torn apart or
burnt to smithereens, poles now facing up with dangerous sharp edges,
people clothed colorfully rushing back and forth between collapsed
shelters. In the foreground, a tired-looking woman in her thirties
held a microphone steadily up to her mouth. Behind her stood a chubby
man dressed in multi-colored cloth and beads. His face was honest, if
not frustrated at the moment. He stood with his hands at his hips,
watching, waiting while the woman spoke.

"The circus, which suffered major damage shortly after the terrorist
attack when unidentified renegade animal rights activists attacked
with bullhorns and urged the animals and other creatures out of the
pens, has sent a progress report through a spokesperson, mister Darron
Woodley. Care to comment?"

She pressed the microphone into the man's face. He pushed it away and
nodded. "Yes. Rebecca. At this moment, the exact number of dragons and
other animals una- unaccounted for, is still very large. However, the
description of the dragon now reported on the loose, does not fit with
more than one dragon. While it is possible."

Sean lowered the bottle of vodka to the counter, his eyes focused on
the set, and a large grin formed on his face. He laughed, and raised a
full glass to the set. "Cheers," he said joyfully. "You two are doing
better than I expected."

He took a long swig from the bottle.


***


The three children could still hear the hungry growls of the undead
monster behind them gaining ground toward them. Kyle, then Stan, then
Cartman, ran out screaming into the empty road.

The darkness of the road was disturbed by the flash of two bright
headlights as a silver Stealth swerved around a corner at a speed of
around 250 miles per hour.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" Kyle, Stan, and Cartman screamed
simultaneously. The car sped toward them without any sign of slowing.
All three of them made one final, desperate lunge for the opposite
curb and-


***


"...right around O'Shaughnessy Boulevard, between Canton and Hobbit.
Over?'

"Over," Chief Robinson spoke into the reciever. "I'll get him.
Anything else?"

"Only that you should shoot to stun, if possible. We don't need any
more trouble with the goddamn animal rights people."

"Got it. I'll take it down. And I'll leave the Stealth to you."


***


The Frankendillo's appetite for the children, never fading,
intensified as they ran out onto the street. The short large one
finally was within Her grasp. She hunched Her back, pulled Her claws
out, leaped forward.!

Wait. Wait. There was something else, a different scent, more
powerful, more tasty, more. right. Light covered the Frankendillo's
body, blinded Her eyes, and she heard the loud growl of a large
approaching animal, approaching meal. Forgetting all about the
children, She turned to face this new larger prey, hissed in
challenge, pulled her claws.


***


The Stealth lurched once, violently, and for a moment the music
stopped. Then started again, as the road the Brothers drove smoothed
out once again.

"What was that?" Jake inquired from the passenger seat.

"I think it was an Armadillo!" Elwood exclaimed.

"An Armadillo?"

"Yeah!"

Jake nodded. Elwood returned his attention to the road in front of
him.

They drove on.


***


The Stealth sped by.

Chief Robinson's squad car, hidden from view by a small abandoned
shed, turned onto the road into plain view, facing the way the Stealth
had came, and came to a stop at the edge of the road.

Chief Robinson leaped out from one side, Unright leaped from the
other, and they walked out onto the road anticipatorily. Chief
Robinson raised a tranquilizer pistol from his belt and waited.

First came the police vehicles. over a dozen of them, sirens
screaming, as they sped off after the departed Stealth.

Then came, a lot quieter, a fluttering of draconic wings, the whoosh
of something moving very, very fast, a low growl audible in the empty
night air.

Chief Robinson squinted his eyes and pointed the pistol.


***


Slipgate was beyond reason. He was conscious of the squad cars, of the
destroyed buildings, of the lives at stake, but he no longer cared.
Only one thing mattered. The medallion.

Barely taking in any of his interest, Slipgate saw three children
shakily pulling themselves to their feet at the side of the road, the
retreating rear lights of the squad cars, two men and a parked
vehicle, one aiming a pistol at him.

Slipgate's eyes widened, but his perception came much too late. A dart
flew into his thick neck, puncturing all the more deeper from the fact
he was speeding right at it just as it sped toward him. He lurched in
the air, and the next two shots - now within his hearing range - rang
out and took him in his forehead and stomach area. He crashed into the
road, and still slid, carried by momentum another painful twenty feet
or so.

Slipgate groaned, and thought of the medallion. He clenched draconic
claws, pushed them against the ground, and attempted to pull himself
back up.

Another shot. The back of his head went numb. Slipgate was aware of
his consciousness, his energy leaving him.

"I will get you Blues Brothers!" he promised as loud as he could
muster.

Then he lost consciousness.


***


Police Sergeant Ralph Herdson had fought a hard battle to earn his
position in the law enforcement department of AGFF City. His father, a
member of AGFFSDIAIA Military, had been executed by his own men when
Herdson was very young after he was found selling top-secret
information to opposing newsgroups and his mother was a screaming
banshee of a woman, suffering from schizophrenia and other
uncategorized psychological disorders.

Herdson'd been forced to watch as his mother was carted away by social
security when he was only nine, and from there his life improved.
Adopted by kindly - yet strict - retired police surgeons who lived on
a farm on the outskirts of a small village about 50 miles west of AGFF
City, his life began anew and he was encouraged to join the local
Academy.

From there, records show him excelling at everything he tried,
graduating from Academy at seventeen years, beginning as a lowly
street patrolman and slowly moving up from position to position until,
at the early age of 24, he achieved the position of police Sergeant.
Ever since, he has become well-known as a distinguished
strategically-minded Sergeant, never failing to successfully get the
job done.

What official records didn't - couldn't - show was the animosity he
faced at twenty one as a young officer after he came out of the closet
to the entire Precinct he was serving as a gay man and a soon to be
highly vocal member of the inner-city gay activism movement, the
Rainbow Alliance. Official records did not document his reasons for
nearly strangling a fellow officer - the officer had taken part in
beating Herdson's soulmate into a coma - just that it happened, "as a
fit of rage" on Herdson's part. Official records did not document that
Herdson's "kind and generous" adopted parents disowned him after he
went public and refused to answer any of his calls or letters from
that day forth.

Official records don't describe a lot.

Another thing the official records pointedly did not mention was that
Sergeant Ralph Herdson was an AGFFSDIAIA spy, inconspicuously planted
to watch over AGFF City's Police Department and intervene any time
they were at risk of getting in the way of the successful completion
of any AGFFSDIAIA undercover mission. Even if any of this ever could
of made it into the official records, it certainly would never have
been documented that over a quarter of these "missions" were at some
point illegal.

The current circumstance was one such occasion. The two bluesmen
speeding away down a highway near AGFF City Central were, as far as
Sergeant Herdson'd been told, agents of the AGFFSDIAIA. And it
certainly was an intervention when almost all of the district's patrol
cars were following the Bluesmen in a high-speed chase.

Luckily for the AGFFSDIAIA, Sergeant Herdson was a ranking officer,
and a couple of words from him could bringing the entire mess to a
grinding halt.

Which they did.

"Abandon chase," Herdson barked into the intercom.

"What?" said a stunned officer back.

"Abandon. Chase." Herdson repeated strongly. "Now."

"But Chief Robinson said-"

"I'm the ranking officer here. Do what I say, or hand in your badge
tomorrow. That goes for all of you."

This was followed by silence.

But slowly, reluctantly, patrol vehicle after patrol vehicle pulled
over and turned back the way it had came. Knowing his harsh temper,
and loving their jobs, none in the district would go against what
Herdson said, even to stay on good terms with Chief Robinson. Many had
before. None had ever been seen anywhere near Law Enforcement - save
for its jails - ever again.

And the Stealth drove alone, a silent silver blur in the deep of the
night.

And the official records recorded only that the occupants of the
Stealth somehow eluded arrest, this time.


***


The night was filled with the steady wailing of sirens. An ambulance
and numerous patrol cars pulled up and littered the street with
pulsing red light as officers rushed around and the unconscious dragon
was netted and pulled steadily toward the ambulance. The air was thick
with the sound of intercoms and shouting.

Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny gathered around the armadillac
roadkill, and stared down at it.

"Well," Stan said. "That sucked. We got teleported to some room with
some guy who then kicks us into this hellhole."

"Yeah," said Kyle.

"But you know, I've learned something today. That. Responsibility is a
big step, and we're going to have to go through a lot so we can get
back to South Park again. Including getting stuck in a big city, and
being chased down by a rabid armadillo."

"Yes, and I've learned something too," Cartman interrupted. "That
Armadillos mean squat next to burning rubber. And that my friends are
seriously a buncha weaklings, who'd throw me into the jaws of death at
the first chance they get!"

Kenny walked up.

"Oh hi, Kenny," said Kyle.

"Mrph," said Kenny.

"EY!" Cartman cried. "I was talkin' here!"

The four wandered off into the night.


***


Dave didn't have recollection of falling unconscious during the walk
toward the dining room, and in fact was only aware of his previous
lack of consciousness when he regained it, just at the door of the
dining room. It was at about this time he considered that perhaps his
loss of consciousness during such marches had very little to do with
any fault of his own, but perhaps instead was a pre-programmed
response to a silent order from Strider or one of his slaves to keep
Dave, or any of the others, from orienting themselves to their
surroundings.

He didn't think much on that at the moment, concentrating his
attention more plainly on his surroundings: the dining room and the
slaves standing stiffly around it with glazed expression in their
eyes.

The dining room was, in quality if not in atmosphere, "fit for a
King." With a bright, candle-lit chandelier of patterned reflective
glass hanging magnificently above a large rectangular table of an
unknown material, blanketed by a well-sewn green tablecloth, with
image of wineglasses and bottles intricately sewn in set, patterned
positions, the dining room also sported numerous watercolor paintings
familiar to Dave as being the creations of famous painters such as
Pichasi, Lounger, and Huouresia, hung in proper places on the walls.

"See what you were missing?" Strider announced proudly, his arms
outspread. "I had it built of the finest quality."

There were several bookcases, wooden tables equipped with chairs to
match, small bedside tables with small bedside lamps, yet a complete
lack of beds themselves. And there was a small black cat, sleeping on
one of the wood tables.

"Sit down," he ordered. "You've made us terribly late, but my gracious
servants have no doubt kept the food warm and the candles lit. Sit."

Dave had no choice but to do as he was bid, then did not even try to
offer futile resistance. He sat down and found, to his surprise,
control had returned to his eyes. He learned this when his eyes,
released of the Slaver's zomblilic control, abruptly slammed shut of
their own accord.

He left his eyes shut for a long moment, keeping in mind that his
newfound freedom might only be temporary. His eyes ached and begged
silently to remain shut, but eventually curiosity overcame blind pain
- pardon the pun - and slowly he squeezed his eyes open.

He sat at one of eleven seats neither at the head nor the tail of the
rectangular table. Upon the lime-green tablecloth, place mats of
mostly dark color had been placed, each depicting a wise black cat
resembling the one sleeping on the bare table, possessing eyes to
match the color of the tablecloth, sitting on a dark windowsill late
at night. Behind the cat are dark sillouettes of mountains in the
distance, and, closer, a barren tree - devoid of all life - as if
struck by lightning. The sky is beautiful and starry, cloudless. The
artist of the image had a haunting talent Dave found particularly
refreshing, from what he could see of it --- much of the image was
covered by the plate, the napkin - cloth - and the expensive,
glittering silverware. The glasses - there were three of them, in
total, for each plate - were set off of the beautiful place mat, were
each of an individual shape and size, and were very good at confusing
the heck out of Dave. He hadn't the slightest what to drink what out
of, and he hoped sincerely that Strider's "servants" would deal with
that themselves, so he wouldn't have to. Then he remembered who
Strider's "servants" were and his contempt for the self-important
slaver welled up within him once again.

With the meager control over his eyes that he had regained in the
moments that passed before, Dave looked up and took in his
surroundings like he had naught of the capacity to before. Sitting
directly across from him was Celes; to her right sat Jeff, to her
left, damn him, sat Strider. He had not chosen to sit at either head
of the table, as was his place. Instead, as a mocking gesture to Dave
he knew, he sat among his slaves. Dressed in the elegant, colorful
robes of a King and wearing upon his head a self-mocking golden crown,
Strider's appearance made a terrible contrast with the bedraggled,
exhausted slaves, dressed only in dirty cloths falling apart at the
seams.

Dave hated this. He knew he was succumbing to exactly that which
Strider had in mind, but he could not help it. He hated that man.

"Gonzales!" Strider ordered, raising a dry hand into the air. "Bring
us my feast!"

Dave heard the mechanical activity of a slave doing as he or she was
bid, a sound he had familiarized in his small time in captivity. While
very subtle a sound, once he became aware of it, he also became aware
of a very frightening sound indeed. A mindless shuffling, like a
machine, like the walking Dead. Spending his life in the company of
that dreadful constant sound, Dave considered, it was no surprise that
Strider was dead within.

"I must apologize for the delay," Strider added with a smirk, "I'm
afraid our Gonzales is a little slow. You see, she's Pordugan.

"Of course," Strider continued, glancing between Jeff and Jabar with
his unchanging smirk and never-ending condescending tone, "there are
worse things to be. You could be half a man. with half the brains as
the rest of us. Or you could be an ape - need I say more?"

Looks of disgusted offense filled both men's eyes - and it didn't take
much to see it.

"All right," Strider went on. "You think you're so smart? Think the
whole of either of your races has so much as a pea's worth of
brainpower?

"Well, I'll tell you what. During this dinner, you will - all of you -
you'll have the ability to prove you have a brain in you're heads. You
may speak, ask me questions, whatever you want. Starting now."

"What makes you so much more intelligent than anybody else?" Jabar,
sitting at Dave's right, immediately inquired in an angry tone.

"Good question," Strider said. A thin, unhealthy woman of possible
Pordugan origin - a woman Dave assumed to be Gonzales - shuffled over
to the table and immediately set a large metal platter on the center
of the table in front of Dave. That done, she shuffled mindlessly off,
and Strider continued, "but with a simple enough answer: morals."

Dave focused his eyes unconsciously on the content of the platter - a
task of no difficulty, for the main content was rather large and
visible. It was an appetizing meat - quite possibly turkey - still
steaming visibly while Dave looked on. Surrounding it on the platter
was a lake of spiced red tomato sauce.

Despite earlier thoughts of fasting as an act of rebellion - though,
thinking about it later, Dave realized such a rebellion relatively
impossible given the circumstances in any case - the delicious scent
and appearance of it was quite enough to toss such thoughts from
Dave's mind.

"Morality," Strider added, and Dave focused his attention back to his
answer, "is a limiter of human possibility, and it is probably the
worst aspect of general consciousness. In a metaphorical sense, when
you start to gain control over your own life path, you're at the foot
of a mountain. There is a wide range of possibilities open to you, but
with morality, there is a single path, already set out for you by
SOMEBODY ELSE. You travel a pre-set trail, and every twist and every
turn you take is dictated by THAT PERSON'S ideas. You are born, you
live, and you die the same way every other sheep does. Without
morality, there are more options - evolutionarily, or otherwise. You
see?"

His point made, Strider moved to cut the turkey. With a touch of
curiosity obvious in his eyes, he glanced in turn at each of the four
slaves summoned to dinner, though not without prejudice.

"And if you don't follow the main path," Jabar finally murmured, a
silent challenge to Strider's claims, "what awaits you? Wild animals,
insects, poisonous oak. People who just don't like you. Without a
path, all you can do is flounder about. And if you start one, others
can follow.. And so I must ask, then, what is the point of it, if the
ultimate end is, with different rules and circumstances, exactly that
which you now curse?"

Strider set down the knife and glared aggressively at Jabar for a
moment before answering. "Of course," he said, "others will follow my
path, take me for their hero, and copy exactly what I did, because of
who they are. The sheep mentality is such a core part of Humanity in
general that it's ridiculous to think there will be no sheep!

"What I'm saying," he added, his voice seeming to boil over with an
inspired ignorance, "is that we need, to break away from monotony and
in some respects our own self-destruction, free thinkers who are
willing to follow their own paths so that others can follow, and
humanity can evolve!"

"The original subject," Dave broke in, "was MORALITY. In terms of
religion, civilization, science, and general philosophy, I can see
your point without too much doubt of your sanity. However, when you
speak of immorality as a path of its own."

"It is not a PATH! Strider exclaimed, stabbing the large knife
violently into the table before continuing. "Don't you get it?
Morality is a device, one that influences and changes people's paths,
and can either broaden or narrow their life accomplishment and overall
enjoyment! It is a set of rules - of 'right' and 'wrong' - that limits
your choice, in everything! How can you argue a known scientific
theory or run a successful business, if you have questions of it being
right or wrong?"

Gonzales approached again, with a large glass bowl of fresh green
salad in her hands. Strider took it from her with an odd note of
frustration in his manner. She shuffled away, without reacting visibly
to Strider's actions the least bit, and Dave heard her grabbing
something solid from the kitchen. Strider was already cutting up the
turkey when Gonzales returned, an open bottle of white wine in her
hands.

"Pour," Strider growled, without even looking up at her.

Dave watched as Gonzales filled first his own glass with wine, then
Jabar's, Jeff's, Celes', and then finally Strider's. The last of the
wine dripped reluctantly out of the bottle, leaving the slaver's glass
only half full. Gonzales held the bottle there in the air for a moment
longer, and, during this moment, to Dave's surprise, her entire body
tensed up, her grip around the neck of the bottle tightened up, and
her breathing slowed down. The shift in attitude, silent though it may
have been, was noticeable.

So much was this a surprise, it didn't seem to absorb for Strider
until it was already too late for him to stop the events now in
motion.

Even as Strider's attention turned away from the meat and he moved to
look up at Gonzales with confusion more than anything else, the
Pordugan slave woman shouted with long suppressed anger and rage, and
slammed the empty bottle down upon the table, instantly shattering it
against the wood.

Shards of broken glass flew everywhere and time seemed suddenly to
grind to a halt. Even as Dave's own survival instincts attempted to
kick in, he saw Strider's arm reflexively fly in front of his own face
and he heard his chair screech backwards simultaneously.

Dave's own instincts were well toned as well, when he had access to
his limbs. As it was, however, the only thing his instincts had any
control over were his eyelids, which shut promptly.

Dave's eyes were still shut when Gonzales screamed, "I shatter this
bottle as you have shattered my life. Shattered the lives of my
familia and my novia, my loved ones. and as you plan to shatter the
lives of these slaves who you dine now so very formally!"

Dave opened his eyes. And saw that the initial shock was now over. The
face Strider showed to his slaves now, contorted and ugly and flushed
with red, seemed to equal Gonzales' in pure rage. However, the look on
his face was much more terrifying and dangerous than any expression a
woman as sick as Gonzales would have been able to muster. He stood up,
and his fists were clenched.

"Gonzales, you lousy bitch." he began and walked at a high speed
around the table, toward her. She trembled and held her ground, but
her fear was obvious in her every feature.

Strider grabbed the weak woman by the shoulders and shook her roughly,
all the while screaming at her: "You traitor! You bitch! I bought you
when you were barely a test tube experiment and I raised you as if you
were my own child! I never gave you too much to do, never forced you
to sleep in the common slave chambers, never controlled you like I
controlled the others. And I gave you Free Will! AND IS THIS THE WAY
YOU REPAY ME!? IS THIS THE WAY YOU REPAY ME?"

"What is free will," Gonzales spit just as venomously, "if it is not
free? If I had disobeyed your commands even once, you would have taken
it from me! Like you took it away from Anne! You liar! You vicious,
lying scum!"

For a moment, Dave thought for certain Strider would strike her, his
face reflected he was so terrifyingly angry, his trembling so strong.
Then he drew in a long, deep breath, and exhaled it slowly. His
trembling slowed, though he did not let go of Gonzales.

"Rofel." Strider finally called.

"Yes, sir?" a male voice from behind Dave replied, without emotion.

"Take the four slaves away. I must deal with this matter."

"Yes, sir."

"And you," Strider addressed Dave, Jabar, Celes, and Jeff coldly.
"Cooperate. Do not resist. That is an order. Now. Stand up."

Dave felt his own eyes glaze over anew. His legs - which he hadn't any
control over since before he was first summoned for dinner - pulled
him to a standing position, and there he waited for a few seconds.

His eyes were glazed over to stare directly at Celes, standing across
from him, as were hers to him. While both of their faces were void of
expression and both pairs of eyes glazed over, Dave was comforted by
their proximity, for he knew, under the glazed expression she was
looking at him. And she still cared for him.

"Follow me," Rofel ordered hoarsely, and Dave's legs started to move.
Before he even got to the door, Dave's mind stopped and, almost
casually, he lost consciousness.


***


When he regained consciousness again, Dave's earlier delusions that he
was to blame for losing consciousness as often as he had whilst
marching the giant mansion had faded almost entirely, for, in normal
day-to-day life, he would generally maintain perfect consciousness -
and this occurred as it did far too frequently to be a coincidence.

As in his earlier marches, Dave had been placed directly in front of
the other three slaves, and could only see the backside of the man
directly ahead of him, which was, overall, wholly uninteresting to
him. His fear for Celes had sprung up almost immediately when he
regained consciousness and disappeared almost as quickly when he heard
three sets of feet shuffling behind him. Or rather, the fear did not
disappear entirely when he heard the three sets of feet, but lessened
considerably, for it was doubtful that, given the circumstances when
they left the dining room, the third set of feet could be anyone other
than Celes.

When Rofel finally led them to the doors of the slave chambers, Dave
had begun to grow a little antsy about Celes' possible lack of
presence, the fate of the woman named Gonzales, and the whole dire
situation in general. After Rofel had them all securely back inside
the slave chambers, left, and slammed the door shut behind him, the
first thing Dave did was turn around and confirm Celes' presence.

She was there, as he had logically suspected all along, and she looked
weary as Jaff, Jabar, and he himself probably looked, Dave supposed.
He smiled at her.

Celes returned the smile and held his gaze for a matter of seconds.
Then she looked beyond him to the surrounding room. Dave turned to see
what she was looking at.

It was nothing much. The room was dark and dimly lit and, by now, most
of the slaves were in bed. The few that weren't were sitting huddled
in small groups around the room, murmuring quietly among themselves. A
few slaves glanced up at the small group's latest arrival, but most
just ignored them.

Dave heard the quiet sound of her walking toward him, then felt her
familiar warm arm touching his own. Her hand, which he adored as
adored the rest of her body and soul, took his one remaining hand and
held it. He smiled, and turned his head to look the direction of Jeff
and Jabar.

"Goodnight, you guys," he said.

After that, Jeff and Jabar chose the two separate mattresses of a
bunkbed near the front of the room while Dave and Celes selected the
top mattress of an otherwise empty bunkbed at the far end of the room.

They did not make love, of course. The events of the day had them both
so exhausted, they barely had the energy to walk as far as the bed
when they had the choice to. They simply wanted the closest semblance
of privacy while lying together on that night, for neither of them
knew how much longer that comfort might remain accessible.

Dave lay on his back on the mattress with a sleepy-eyed Celes lying in
his arms, feeling for the first time in a very long time entirely at
peace.

"I love you, Celes," he whispered as his eyelids began to droop.

"I... love you too, Dave," she whispered back at him, "with all of my
heart, mind, and soul."

She meant it.

With that thought in mind, Dave drifted off to a comfortable sleep,
eternally in a lover's embrace.


***


The otherwise undisturbed darkness that had been Rosa's world for the
last four-and-a-half hours was broken by a thin slit of orangish-white
light as the door to the dark prison cell was pushed a few feet across
the stone floor. The protective shadows around Rosa quickly fled from
her side and she found herself squinting at the sudden bright light.

The Duke hesitated in the doorway, as if expecting a dangerous
creature to rush out at him from the shadows that filled the dark
chamber. In truth, ever since he first found Gloria, he had been
preoccupied with his memories and his old long-buried feelings of
love, and he had spent all of his time since hurriedly completing his
duties so he could see her again. Every Dragoon and soldier who had
seen him since he completed the conquest of Baron had looked at him
strangely, as if he were completely out of his mind - with the
exception of Raphael - and the process of completing each of his tasks
had taken an abnormally lengthy period of time. But now that he was
there to see Gloria, he didn't know what to say.

Rosa raised her hand to her eyes and lowered herself to the murky rock
floor, desperately calling back the shadows and the nothingness she
had hid in since her initial exile within the prison chambers of
Baron. She had been able to forget, for a time, the sin she had
committed upon all of Baron, and worse, upon her husband, the King
himself. No stain could survive and thrive in such nothingness as the
darkness that surrounded her and she had hoped she could somehow
become one with that emptiness and just... disappear.

Only Raphael seemed to understand. Raphael and Gloria. It was as if
the Duke his men respected was a solid entity with a single mind and a
single soul, the same entity that had lived and thrived since the days
of Anton. Single-minded, unchanging, unevolving. And now, the Duke
Kain had broken these barriers, and every man in his service could see
it. It pained him to think in such a manner, but it was true. He was a
shame to the entire Highwind family.

There was no warmth left for Rosa. She had killed all the warmth she
had, and all that was left was an empty name and a murderer who she
could not bring herself to hate. She had considered becoming a Dark
Magician as a child and now she wished she had made that decision, so
she could now set herself aflame in the prison chamber till she was no
more material than the shadows around her and she could be placed
eternally in the hells she undoubtedly deserved.

The Duke brushed his shame away and uneasily pressed against the iron
gate to the chamber with two muscular arms, opening himself fully to
the chamber beyond, and stepped forward. Whatever else he was, the
Duke was above all a warrior. He could conquer Kingdoms with ease...
and now he could conquer Gloria's heart once again. But it would
require a means other than violence, one Gloria had taught him herself
decades before.

There, in the doorway, Kain stood, looking like a godlike figure in
the mix of the shadows remaining to cloak his face and body and the
bright yellow hue casting across the back of his figure, the results
of what Rosa recognized to be of the magical spell of Light. His blue
Dragoon armor, scarred by many battles, still managed to glisten like
a newly-polished blade, and it reminded her of the King Cecil's
Crystal Blade, which never ceased to shine. Thoughts of Cecil's weapon
of choice brought upon thoughts of Cecil himself, and Rosa lowered her
head in shame, remembering.

The Duke nodded at the man standing behind him and he stepped out of
the way.

Rosa was temporarily disoriented by the appearance of a man in the
grayish-white robes of a Baronian Priest as he stepped through the
gateway without a glance at the conqueror watching him from behind and
he hobbled toward Rosa. She recognized the man as Hagorn, Head Priest
of the Baronian Light Magic Division, though his wounded demeanor had
rendered his entire aura around the robe a foggy gray, and that was
unusually visible even to her trained eyes. His head was lowered and
with each step he took, Rosa could hear the iron chains that held his
legs clashing against each other upon the cold rock surface of the
prison floor. As soon as he was within a few inches of Rosa, he raised
his face to hers and stared her in the eyes.

"My Queen." Hagorn murmured to her, his voice raspy and thin. In the
closer proximity, Rosa could see his eyes were wide and bloodshot, his
face was unshaven and dirty, and his voice ringed with sorrow and
defeat. Defeat that she had caused. He lowered his head into her hands
and for once she did not know what to say to the loyal priest. His
religion had taught him total forgiveness and responsibility for all
wrongs and immoralities and she knew then that he knew of her betrayal
of the King and of the tie that bonded her to the conqueror. Yet he
would forgive even this that would cause him imprisonment and such
pain.

"Hagorn." she finally choked out, feeling more love than ever before
for the old priest of the Kingdom. He had been given quite seriously
the title "Father of the Kingdom" by the citizens of Baron for his
wise counsel and loving manner. He had never, to Rosa's knowledge,
cursed any Confessor for any sin, no matter how great. But how could
she even begin to confess to the sins she had committed when, with
each passing moment, she lusted to continue to commit them?

Hagorn nodded his head understandingly and raised one withered hand to
her cheek. He paused for a moment before speaking. "My Child," he
uttered, "Saint Ajora be with you."

The Duke watched this exchange with interest. Normally, he would have
grabbed the priest by the shoulders and ordered him to get on with it.
Normally, he would be angry. But the priest's presence seemed to calm
and heal Gloria, soothe her nerves, and bring a more peaceful attitude
to her, and the Duke was astonished to find Gloria's peace of mind
more important to him than conquering the whole of Usenet.

Rosa lowered her eyes. Was it not the job of Ajora to condemn those
who had sinned and bless those who followed the true will of the God
and Goddess? Yet the phrase Hagorn used was more often to be given to
those respected by the latter, rather than cursed by the former.
_Bahamut's Blood, what could he mean?_

Hagorn pulled himself to his feet with an obvious effort and clasped
both withered hands in front of him in the traditional prayer
position. He closed his eyes and muttered traditional phrases and
incantations in the Old Language Rosa knew by heart under his breath.
His frame, thin as it was, blocked the doorway from Rosa's view as he
stood and she could only Kain's shadowed visage. Though his features
were hidden by shadow, she felt Kain staring at her. And she stared
right back.

Hagorn shuffled away from Rosa suddenly, dragging the chains along
behind him, and walked toward the nearest wall. From the light of the
room beyond, she could see the white candlesticks held in dark rock
candleholders on each of the walls, and she remembered then the
meeting with the architect, Melchior, seventeen years ago when he,
Cecil, and herself had planned the correct placement of the
candleholders in the prison cells for usage during interrogation. As
she recalled, there were five candleholders evenly lined up on each
wall.

A mere foot from the candle farthest to the left, Hagorn stopped his
walk and rubbed both hands against each other, creating a sound alike
to a rock against sandpaper. His mutterings grew louder, though only
loud enough to be barely heard over the sound of his hands rubbing
against each other. At one point, his hands pushed away from each
other, though only a mere quarter of an inch. His mutterings continued
on as they had before and his hands, separate though they might be,
continued to rub against the air. The sandpaper sound was gone, but
the motions the priest was going through seemed just as solid as
before.

A few seconds later, Hagorn raised his hands into the air above his
head, and his mutterings grew louder and more possessed. His hands
continued the same motions, though they were now nearly an inch apart,
though far more erratically. It seemed to all in the room that a great
deal of magical power was being welled up and, as Rosa knew from her
training under this very priest himself, it was.

Hagorn's mutterings lower to a mere murmur then quieted, though
Hagorn's lips continued to move for a long moment. Hagorn's hands
slowed to a halt and formed a circle around what Rosa knew to be
invisible magical energies.

Slowly, he lowered his arms once again, moved his arms back toward his
chest, and quickly pushed the raised energy forward with both hands
till his hands were only half an inch away from the candle. The candle
itself caught fire at the wick. Hagorn lowered his hands away from the
candle and he paused to catch his breath.

Rosa turned back to look at the Dragoon in the doorway. They regarded
each other for a long moment before Kain finally stepped forward. In
the candlelight, his face became a slight bit more visible, though it
didn't do much good. His face was as still and emotionless in
appearance as a rock.

The Duke continued to stare at Gloria and after a while, he really
could see the girl who he fell in love with so many years before clear
as day. Any doubts in his mind that he was mistaken vanished now, and,
convinced, he dropped his defenses, lowered himself to his knees, and
bowed to her.

"My Lady." Kain whispered, and his voice again sounded as warm and
open as when he had first uttered her name in the throne room of
Baron. His face had softened only moments before and it now looked
open, emotional and even a bit awkward, like that of a boy's -
unscarred with the successes and defeats of love in life.

It was that innocent naivete that had originally left Gloria
hopelessly in love with the young Kain Aron Highwind so many years
before, the lack of any pretension or ambition, the clear, pure love
in his eyes that saw life in the moment. He had seeked only a quiet
life and a family but never power, despite his experiences under the
iron fist of his father, the elder Duke Aron Highwind.

Rosa instantly turned away. With the memories of the Kain Aron
Highwind she had loved in another life came also the memories of their
failed escape and the Dragoon Lance that had cut through her back but
hadn't killed her by itself. Hours had passed where all she could do
was think of the Dragoon. She didn't want to remember this.

Hagorn lowered the already-lit candle upon the wick of another and lit
it. Without haste, he stepped toward the next candle and set it on
fire. He paused, feeling the surrounding tension as it filled the
room, then moved to light another candle. There was nothing he could
do save to pray for the Queen's well-being.

The Duke glanced up and found Gloria looking away. Her shoulders were
raised with tension. Some invisible wall had just been raised between
them, and he could feel it holding him at bay, like one of those
powerful warriors who stood between him and the crown at the tail end
of a successful invasion.

"Gloria." he began, and this time his voice sounded more desperate.

"My name is not Gloria," Rosa snapped, now angry. "The woman you loved
is dead, Kain."

"No." the Duke pressed. "I see her in you. Gloria, the woman I loved
is not dead. It is the woman the King loved, if any, who has died
now."

Rosa winced and blurted out a quick denial. "I never was Gloria!" But
she wondered. His statement had cut deeper that she thought, and was
it Rosa who fired the dart that killed the King Cecil? Was it Rosa who
felt such feelings for this man who had destroyed her life?

"I can see it in your eyes, Gloria. You don't believe that which you
say."

Rosa glanced away again. Hagorn lit the last of the candles. Thinking
of Hagorn, the anger of the Queen rose up within her and she turned to
face Kain. Her face was flushed with rage. "So what if I was?" she
retorted angrily, then stopped, suddenly realizing what she was
saying. The Church did not believe in reincarnation and to speak of
such matters in the presence of a priest such as Hagorn was a terrible
crime, as she had been told as a very young child.

Hagorn did not seem to notice, however. Occupied with lighting the
last candle, his body did not tense up and his attention did not waver
when she spoke. He turned, quickly blowing the candle out, and walked
toward them. He stopped and bowed humbly before them.

"So what if I was?" Rosa repeated more quietly once Hagorn had left
the cell. "That woman was another person, another life. She was not
me, Kain."

"Then." the Duke inhaled a deep breath and caught her gaze. "Who are
you?"

The Duke felt a small twinge of victory as Gloria lowered her head and
let out a deep breath. He could sense the invisible wall between them
crumbling, entirely too quick, and he knew he had won. He pulled
himself forward and put his hand on her shoulder. When she did not
move to pull away, he came forward further and placed his other hand
on one of her own. He could feel she was trembling, and he knew he was
as well.

"Gloria." he whispered again, and this time she did not argue. She
looked up at him and remained silent. Kain wrapped his arms around her
waist, and lowered his face to hers.

Gloria did not resist. The face, scarred and aged as it was, was a
familiar face, and she wanted terribly to be back in Kain's arms once
again. She opened her mouth, allowing him entry, and pulled forward to
embrace him.

Nothing she had ever experienced as Rosa could compare with the
pleasure she experienced now. Even her brief childhood romance with
the Kain Aron Highwind she had known all of her life as Rosa did not
match up to the sheer beauty and intensity of true, complete love.
Body warmth flowed to her from Kain, even through the Dragoon's cold,
war-stained armor, and her face pressed against his seemed like the
only thing right in the world.

The next half hour was a blur for her, filled with affectionate
phrases, long meaningful gazes, and various positions as they rolled
about the once-murky cell in their reverie. The ecstasy of the moment
far outweighed the physical pleasure of an orgasm or any effects of
any drug. There was something true, magical, and right about her love
with Kain, and all religion, history, and questions of morality
disintegrated in the face of it. Her experiences with Cecil, which she
had regarded as far as she knew as experiences of love, could be only
be described as one one-hundredth of the experience she went through
now. The floor of the prison cell, so hard, cold, and uninviting
before, now seemed like the softest of the beds.

Kain's experience was not much different. His entire life as the Duke
had been spent trying to forget the small moments of true happiness
and peace he had lived as a child and his feelings, repressed for so
very long, came with a much greater intensity than ever before. All he
lived, breathed, and saw was Gloria and her beautiful eyes and face.
All he heard was the steady breathing of the warm creature lying under
him and the words of love that she spoke deleriously in his ear. All
he tasted was the wet sand-paper feel of her upper tongue and the warm
lake of joy below it.

Eventually, Kain pulled himself away from her, though with great
reluctance, and he sat and stared at her, completely at ease with
himself. Finally, he spoke. "Gloria. You deserve much more than this.
If you dare to face some of your people, you may come with me to royal
quarters. But I will not force you."

Kain held out his hand to her and waited. Gloria paused to consider
and her hand pulled forward to touch his war-scarred fingers-

Rage building up, the cold manipulative warlord standing suggestively
in front of her and.

- dead kings -

betrayal then, the queen now less than a slave girl, ruined by her own
betrayal, murderer of Kings -

Rosa screamed, loud. Spooked horses whinnied and jumped outside. The
Duke lowered his arm even as Gloria's fingers trembled with yearning.

_Not worth it._ Rosa screamed to herself at the hint of passion. _I am
not worth it! Let me be, demon of lust! I don't deserve this feeling!
LET ME BE!_

Rosa hissed and pulled back, turned away from the new King and
Conqueror of Baron. As soon as her face was turned, she let up and
tears streamed down her eyes. She wailed levels of pain most could
only guess at, scratched at the floors till her fingers bled, and
screamed again.

Then she - Gloria - turned back, stared the Duke in the eye, and gave
in.


Gloria and Kain -

they exited the building hand-in-hand, looking and feeling very much
like teenagers experiencing the giddiness of first love. Rosa smiled
as Cecil exited the Academy doors, holding a colorful bouquet of
flowers on Valentines day. Many of the citizens Gloria, in another
life, had called friend dressed in ripped and tattered clothing stood
there and stared at her with shock and betrayal registering in their
eyes. Rosa and Cecil walking up the aisle of the church, surrounded by
friends and family, and many citizens of Baron she knew only vaguely.
smiling, come to watch the King marry his beloved Queen. Rosa felt an
urge to cry, but it was down Gloria's cheek the first - and last - of
tears fell. She shut her eyes, shut away the memories, shut away all
that had been Rosa, for in there lay no comfort or warmth at all. Only
sadness, anger, self-deprecating despair.

Kain led Gloria to the tower Cecil had lived in as a dark knight in
the service of the previous King of Baron. It was an old section of
the building, and it showed from the rust and moss and broken bricks
that made up its exterior. Still, the interior had been kept up
relatively well and looked pretty much alike to its appearance so many
years before. It was like she was experiencing those first romantic
days with Cecil once again, but better. Much better.

Kain led her up the stairs and each time he looked at her, he felt
infinitely blown away. That morning, he mused, he had been almost an
entirely different person. In the new space of enlightenment he opened
himself to, he was not only aware of his previous assimilation into a
long tradition of similar Dukes, but also of a time when that seemed a
worst-case scenario, a terrible nightmare that he had never wanted to
live. With the return of Gloria back into his life, it seemed he had a
second chance to be human.

At the top of the tower, Kain tossed open the door and led Gloria into
his bedroom. Gloria remembered this to have once been Cecil's room. In
the corner a similar ungarished bed rested and directly behind and
above it was a large window showing the stars above in all of their
romantic glory. It wasn't the misty peak of before, but it was equally
warm with the vibes.

Gloria slammed the door shut and immediately started toward Kain and
began to strip him of the cold iron armor of the Dukes, starting with
first the stomach armor, then working down to the iron leggings and
iron boots, seeming to exist only to keep back his warmth. Kain
wrapped his arms around Gloria's waist and pulled his arms under her
shirt. They fell backwards against the slammed door and he slipped her
shirt off.

Even the growing ecstatic energy would not disturb the slow, rhythmic
way they moved with each other, touched each other, pulled at the
edges of the other's clothing. The way they always moved with each
other, natural as the limbs and leaves of trees flailing about each
other in a heavy wind, with an energy most could only imagine.

By now, both Kain and Gloria were bare from the waist up. Kain's arms
were still wrapped around Gloria's smaller waist and he held her in
perfect peace against the door. Rosa's body in itself was attractive
to him, but with the essence of Gloria within it, every feature seemed
perfect and glowing to him. The face smiling up at him, the tired eyes
which distinguished her identity to him so well, the full, sensual
lips, even the shape of her nose seemed beautiful. Not all of these
were immediate features of Rosa but they all had been for Gloria. Yet
there was no illusion. Every feature Kain drank in was very much real.

The admiring gaze of Kain thrilled Gloria to no end, and it could not
be said she wasn't experiencing thoughts much along the same lines.
Kain was older, much older, than she remembered, but at the heart he
was exactly the same as she remembered. She pulled his face down to
meet hers and held him in a deep, passionate kiss.

When Kain pulled the last of Gloria's undergarments off, all confusion
and indecision had long faded. When he led her to the bed at the far
side of the room, she was his entirely. The Duke who had been would
have taken this as a conquest, a victory in a small intimate battle,
save for the fact his own heart had been conquered as well.


And Rosa's hatred only grew.


***
 

Alrahna Beach - on the eastern end of Sunset Boulevard in the circle
of cleanness in Mon Schierele, the beach was indeed a real beach with
real fish, real sharks, and real sand. It was part of a real ocean
that extended to a number of other continents in power, including the
alt.binaries.* continent and the alt.music.* continent, among others.

The reason why the ocean hadn't been used as a dumping spot for toxic
chemicals was that the organization which created the invisible dome
had it centered around the ocean for several hundred miles around. And
the companies which would otherwise dump the residue from their
products into the ocean couldn't complain because such dumping was
illegal. Which was why they denied doing it, to begin with.

Tseng knew all of this because it was what the Tour Guide had told him
when he first arrived, feeling disgusted, at Mon Schierele. It was
most definitely the most natural, romantic place he knew of in the
area and he had taken Elena for several walks on it early on. Since
their successful dinner together near AGFFH, however, it had become
their usual place for smooching and lovemaking deep into the night.

To any outsider's eyes, it looked like it might have been turning into
another of those nights as they walked down the road to the beach.
Well, except that they were not holding each other's hands. And they
were pointedly looking away from each other and not saying very much
at all.

_She just doesn't understand,_ Tseng thought sadly. _It is not the
least bit professional to dance to that 'Greens' music or whatever it
was that the new Turks were playing. It's not a question of fun, it's
a question of dignity._

_What a square,_ Elena thought sadly. _I thought he was a little more
free-flowing than that._
 

FLASHBACK

"I loved it!" Elena exclaimed, much to Tseng's disdain. "I loved the
beat, the style, the words, the atmosphere... I see what you mean
about Blues."

"Well, I don't," Tseng quickly objected. "I actually found it
terribly unprofessional, clichéd, empty, and worst of all, tasteless.
I do hope you don't torture my ears or the ears of my companions with
it ever again."

Jake and Elwood simply continued to stare through their sunglasses at
Tseng. Elena, horrified, elbowed Tseng in the groin. Daron and Reno
simply looked shocked.

"Tseng!" Elena whispered to him, angrily. "Learn some manners, won't
you? Honestly!"

Tseng looked at her hard, then looked back at Jake and Elwood and
continued in the same blunt attitude, "I'm not going to lie. As
fellow Turks, you're just going to have to learn to live with that."

This was met by silence. Tseng crossed his arms in front of his chest
confrontationally.

"Well!" Elwood said abruptly, standing up. "I'm just going to... go
get something to eat. C'mon, Jake."

But Jake just sat there, staring at Tseng as if he had just desecrated
Curtis' grave. "Jake," Elwood continued, more anxiously, "C'mon."

"You don't like Blues," Jake addressed Tseng.

"No," Tseng said, shaking his head. "I don't like Blues."

A deep growl ascended from the deep depths of Jake's throat and he
stood mildly up, his hands clenched against the table. Tseng looked
moderately alarmed.

"Grrrrraaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!" Jake exclaimed, grabbing Tseng by the neck
and giving him a good shake.

"Christ, Jake! Take it easy, man!" Elwood cried, attempting to pull
his aggressive brother back. Daron and Reno also worked on one side
with pulling Jake away from Tseng, while Elena simply worked at
getting Jake's fingers off of Tseng's neck. Tseng just, well, choked.

Finally, with much work, the other Turks managed to pry Jake's fingers
away from Tseng's neck and pull him backwards. Initially, he
struggled, and it took much reassurance, captivity, and calming words
from Elwood, Daron, and Reno before Jake calmed down and lowered his
arms. Tseng, meanwhile, gasped and coughed. When Elena tried to hold
him in her arms, he broke away violently and took a large swig of the
nearest cup of coffee.

Tseng lowered the cup and stopped. Reno had grown very quiet, as had
Daron, Jake, and Elwood. They all stared at Tseng. Tseng burped and
looked up. Even Elena had caught on by now.

Tseng's eyes widened. He looked up at Reno. "Reno, you didn't...?" he
began, horror-stricken.

"I... I..." Reno protested.

"It was my idea. I thought it might cheer him up if we played the
trick on the new Turks... except... you weren't supposed to drink
it," Daron explained.

"Trick? What trick?" Elwood demanded.

Tseng gulped and pointed an accusing finger Daron's direction. "I...
will... not... forget... this... anytimesoon!"

With that, Tseng leaped out of his chair and made a mad dash toward
the men's room.


It had gone downhill from there. When Tseng returned, whether it was
from Reno's potion or the distasteful music he had just heard, his
appetite had been rendered nonexistent.

Had he any appetite remaining, it would have been lost at the sight of
the food Jake and Elwood took to the table on the large trays. Jake,
being the unprofessional cretin that he was, had gotten for himself
six hot dogs and a soda from the machine on the far end of the room,
and Elwood simply had dry white toast and a cup of water. If Tseng
hadn't lost his lunch due to Daron and Reno's distasteful initiation
ritual, he probably would have now at the sight of theirs.

While Elwood chomped loudly on his dry white toast - in a fashion much
like a bunny might eat a carrot - Jake removed the bratwurst from the
hot dog buns and sprayed a small mountain of ketchup on one of them.
Tseng looked away in disgust.

Jake grabbed the mayonnaise from the edge of the table and slammed his
knife into the container. He slid the knife loudly through it, and the
mayonnaise container flipped through the air and flew at Tseng. With a
cry of surprise, Tseng slapped it away and it crashed to the floor a
good distance away. Tseng's tie was stained with a large white spot of
mayonnaise, though he did not seem to notice it as yet.

Jake raised his eyebrows and began to slide the mayonnaise-covered
knife over another hot dog bun. "Why, I'm terribly sorry, my good
man," Jake's voice seethed with sarcasm. "I do hope your tie cleans
well!"

Tseng stared with disdain down at his tie, then looked up and glared
at Jake. Elena giggled. Tseng shifted his glare. Elena stopped
giggling.

The others set back to eating. Tseng did his best to sit still without
looking at either Elena or the two new Turks, now keeping his gaze
focused on a relatively blank spot on his tray.

Jake placed a piece of bratwurst in the mayonnaise-covered bun, took
the squeezer of mustard, and began to spray it over the hot dog. Tseng
winced, trying his best not to watch, and waited expectantly for the
mustard to fly.... And was slightly shocked when it didn't. He
breathed a deep breath of relaxation and fell back onto his chair.

Jake opened his mouth to bite the hot dog and he squeezed the bun.
Tseng's eyes widened. The bratwurst flew from the hot dog, accompanied
by a wave of flying mustard. Tseng raised his arms in front of his
face and screamed. The bratwurst flew onto his already damaged tie and
the mustard got all over his suit coat.

"Goddammit!" Tseng cried. "Would you PLEASE be more careful!?"

Jake had his head bowed down and he munched quietly on the hot dog
bun. Elwood continued to chomp on the dry white toast and he grinned
in a rather disgusting manner at Tseng. Tseng almost burst a blood
vessel.

Tseng stood up and walked away, toward the men's room. He glared at
Jake as he passed.


For a while thereafter, things had gone relatively well. When Tseng
returned from the men's room, he was not greeted by a flurry of flying
bratwursts, mustard, and mayonnaise containers. Elwood had finally
finished off his dry white toast and, while there were still about
four hot dogs to go, Jake was temporarily content with taking sips
from his soda.

Tseng managed to stay calm even when Jake yet again unleashed a
bratwurst missile his direction. Without much work, Tseng managed to
turn his head away from the direction of the bratwurst, and it flew
past, disregarded.

Tseng felt a brief twinge of embarrassment and disgust when Jake
picked up one of the bratwursts and aimed it Elwood's direction.
Elwood opened his mouth and Jake threw the bratwurst, with perfect
aim, into his mouth.

Tseng groaned. Jake and Elwood both turned to face him. Elwood chomped
on one half of the bratwurst, and the other half fell out of his mouth
- to the floor.

"Why don't you two..." Tseng began, exasperated, then regained control
of his senses and immediately picked up yesterday's newspaper from the
floor. Heck with it. It didn't matter if he had read it or not.

Tseng pulled the newspaper open, blocking Jake and Elwood from his
view, and glanced blankly over an article discussing the current
mayor's fixation with blankets.

Jake slurped loudly on the straw of his soda. Elwood chomped on a hot
dog bun. Tseng held his tongue for about half a second before he
finally exploded.

"For God's sake!" he cried, lowering the newspaper. "Have you no
manners, no human decency whatsoever?"

This was followed by another of those long moments of silence Tseng
was beginning to detest.

"Hell with it," Tseng finally continued. "I'm outta here."

With that, he stood up, dropped the paper to the floor, and walked
away.

END OF FLASHBACK

 

Elena looked up, opened her mouth as if to say something, but remained
silent. There was nothing to say. What could she say? They were
separated by mannerisms, separated as if by a tall, insurmountable
wall.

The lovers walked on, carefully paying close attention to the movement
of their own feet on gravel and then on sand. Their hands met, and
briefly, so briefly, they could masquerade, but the damage was already
done and the comfort breached. Nothing occurred to either to say or
do; the wound would have to heal on its own.

Or it would be a scar.

 

Click here to continue to Act Three