Rest In Peace

The base was quiet. It had been for the many weeks that had passed since the events that transpired on the ruins of T’lemenheim. The steel walls that usually echoed with the life and emotion of hundreds of people were almost completely silent. Most of those who remained within the headquarters of the Stars were packing to head off to something that most did not understand, but few would ever forget. As for the reason they had to go, someone had merely addressed them all, and ordered them to come. It had not been a choice, as was expected. When one joined the Stars, one made the sacrifice to leaving behind a free life for one of survival, of fighting, of mystery, and, perhaps, torture and gruesome death if things didn’t go as planned. Most people weren’t willing to give up their old lives. But those who were had no problem agreeing to head out of the base. Truth be told, things had been quiet the past few months, and they were eager for something to happen. Had they known the actual reason something was happening, they would never have wished to leave in the first place.

Terrin Tankira sat calmly on a chair in room 207, packing various cloaks, mantles, shirts, pants and boots into his bag, along with a few pieces of food, although he did not know why. There would be plenty of food at the funeral. He hadn’t been functioning 100 percent over the weeks between Blitz’ death and the announcement of the ceremony celebrating his life. Mostly he remained with Courtney, in solitude, talking things over, but hardly ever touching on the subject of one of his best friends’ death. And, of course, Tokumaru’s demise by his own sword.

Courtney sat on their bed, watching her husband slowly set things into his bag – things she knew that he knew he wouldn’t need. That they wouldn’t need. But he packed them anyway. It was like he was shutting all else off aside from his own slightly damaged mind, which seemed to be slowly moving toward insanity. At least, that’s what it appeared to be to any outsider who didn’t know him very well. To Courtney and the rest of the inner Stars group, Terrin’s current state of mind was not a mystery in the least. He was on the verge of cracking, again, and any dangerous mention of what had happened to Blitz, and Tokumaru’s transformation into the Demonflame, would send him over the edge. No matter how hard any of them hinted that they wanted to talk about it, he never appeared to pick up on the mental nudges. Or, perhaps, and this was the more likely situation, Terrin was simply rejecting them in a feeble attempt to deny that it had actually happened.

But now – with the funeral day fast approaching – it could not have been more of a reality for him, or for anyone. And he could not have been coping well. That was why Courtney stayed silent as she watched him pack their belongings into a single bag. How strange, she would think to herself. Our entire life can be fit into one bag… at least the external parts. Anything else is far beyond our reach.

With a sudden violent slash of his arm, Terrin swept the contents of the desk he sat near off, and onto the floor. A small vase shattered and sent glass shooting under the bed, and the many stacks of paper that had so peacefully been resting there floated gently down to the ground. Courtney tried her best not to flinch as he did this.

“Look who’s here,” Terrin whispered, not looking up. He grit his teeth so nobody could see his true expression, and set his jaw straight, staring determinedly at the now empty desk top.

A second later, the door to their room creaked open, and two of the people that Terrin wished least to see, walked inside: Amy Keir and her daughter, Terra. The two contacts to the other Alliance – the Tears – that Terrin had saved from certain death only weeks before.

That was another thing that had changed since the epic fight that had left Terrin in such a damaged and emotionally torn state. His senses had increased a hundredfold, as well as his control over any Posative element that he wished. Even, minimally, the Darkness element, though he would never stoop so low as to use that for anything. He could tell when someone was about to arrive, he could predict what some people would say to him, or to others, and all of his acuteness and somehow heightened. Perhaps – though Courtney might have been imagining it – his very features seemed smoother, more defined… more perfect than ever before, was the only way she could think of describing it. She loved her husband dearly, but was afraid for his mentality when he was to attend the funeral.

“Hello,” whispered Amy, her arm placed firmly around Terra. Terrin didn’t bother to turn around. He merely raised a hand to acknowledge that he knew they were there.

“We…” Amy faltered for a second, then regained her composure and continued. “We just wanted to say… thank you, Terrin. And thank you as well, Courtney. You saved me, and Terra. We owe you our lives.”

“No,” said Terrin suddenly turning around sharply. “You owe me nothing. I assure you that it is not my will that saved you both. It was Courtney, above all. I could do nothing else… for many reasons that make no sense to me, and some that do, you both had to live. Whatever connection we now have, it must remain, for we all know that something has changed in all of us since the Demonflame’s death.”

Everyone in the room fell into a very uncomfortable silence. Terrin sat back down in his chair, and squeezes the side of it very hard. So hard, in fact, that his knuckles whitened, and Courtney feared that it would break his skin open. His jaw tightened forcibly, and he had to shake his head very slightly to stop something from escaping his lips. What it was, Courtney could only guess. She wanted to get up and hug her husband… but she knew that he would not let her.

“And…” he whispered, his voice so faint that Amy and Terra could hardly hear it, “I’m… so sorry…”

He breathed in a little, and lowered his head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save Blitz.”

There was a long silence, in which Terra moved a little closer to Amy, burying her head against her leg, though not taking her eyes off of her mother’s savior.

“Please, do not hold it against yourself that Blitz died,” said Amy. “It will never be your fault. It is nobody’s fault but the one you defeated to avenge him.”

The two turned to leave the room. Amy gave a small push to Terra, moving her out into the steel hallway, and before she shut the door, she turned back, and stared at Terrin, who had finally looked up, his eyes sparkling with raw emotion –

“Thank you, Terrin.”

The door shut.

Courtney wanted to do something rather than just sit there on the bed and watch things transpire, but she knew whatever she did would only make the situation worse. She was forced to lock her arms at her sides and wait for the next action…

It came quickly. Terrin stood up from the chair, knocking it over. He seized the side of the desk, and hurtled it into the opposite wall, where it smashed to pieces and fell to the floor loudly. He let out a bellow behind his teeth, and crushed the chair with his left foot. Courtney did flinch, this time, and rather openly. It wasn’t until Terrin whirled around and smashed a fist so hard into the wall that it dented inward, that she let out a little yelp of fear.

As soon as Terrin heard this, he immediately pulled back, and stared at his wife. She had shrunk back a little, but even as he watched, she attempted to cover the move up, by coughing a little. The elf hurried over to Courtney, fell down next to her, and embraced her tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear.

* * *

Pyre stood calmly at the podium, clutching the sides of it with calm fingers resembling sausages. He was a man with a handlebar mustache, a thick head of hair that hung down past his eyes, and an extremely muscular build. Though he was closely resembling a dwarf (though not quite as short), he was actually extremely agile and talented in all forms of combat, including a limited form of Posative Force. But he mainly specialized, like Blake of the inner Stars group, in guns. Lots of guns.

In front of the stage, there were assembled at least seventy or so chairs, each one of them filled with people. And those who couldn’t find room to sit down, and weren’t scheduled for a later briefing, stood on the sides. The briefing room in the Stars base wasn’t a happy room, but most of the members were there every day. Terrin, Blake, Nat, Miranda, Joseph and Courtney all sat in the second row, paying close attention to their general, who still had not said anything at the podium yet. He seemed to be breathing slightly harder than usual. He must’ve been drinking, thought Nat. The rest of the Stars seemed to be having that same thought.

“We will be moving out in a few short hours,” Pyre informed, moving one of his hands from the side of the podium and resting it quietly at his side. “We are to travel to the base of the Alliance of the Tears, where we will be holding the funeral ceremony. I suggest that you all pack for a three day stay, for that’s how long the ceremony will be, in all. If I hear a single complaint that your stay is ‘too long’, you’ll find yourself traveling to the Tears’ base in a wheelchair, without hands, and sporting a jaunty eye patch. We leave in two hours. Get there by your own individual means, but be there within five hours of your departure. A map to the base has been provided under each of your seats. Briefing dismissed.”

Terrin smiled. “As usual, Pyre always has to turn simple briefings into threats,” he muttered to Nat.

His friend returned the grin, and said under his breath, “yes, but I’d like to see just how jaunty I’d look in that eye patch. Hey,” he added, winking at a nearby woman sitting a few rows behind them. Her bright blond hair was tied back in the exact way Nat liked, and she eyed him with a slight look of confusion before rising from her seat and leaving with her companions.

“Give it a rest,” laughed Terrin, and he took hold of the map underneath his seat, pulling it up to get a good look at it.

This is what you deserve, my friend. At last, you will get a proper farewell.

OoC: My God... o_o This is intense. My characters...swearing?

BiC:

“Terrin Tankira’s party, the Stars, will be joining us in a few hours’ time. Amy Keir will be returning to us at that time.”

General Viscen’s normally calm visage was subtly troubled this morning. As he stood bowing over the podium, addressing near two-hundred soldiers in the briefing room, Drake noted the officer’s knitting eyebrows with concern. The Tears sat in the front row, all visibly upset despite their efforts to remain expressionless. Each one had awoken mere hours ago, and it was still early morning. Stress was heavy on their minds.

“Today, at twenty-two-hundred hours, we commemorate the death of…” he stumbled visibly, “one of our most valued comrades.”

Even the elusive Hybrid had joined the party for the event. To anyone else, he seemed the only one in the room who was not deeply disturbed, but Drake knew the sentient canine better than that. Leathery black ears twitched involuntarily, and his tail flicked outward from time to time.

Viscen grappled for words, open-mouthed, but failed. The dragon-man couldn’t help pitying his superior. Blitz had meant so much to all of them. Drake himself refused to believe that his little brother was gone for good, not without seeing a body. Then again, he would rather not.

“Dismissed.” He paused, then added: “To your quarters.” He started to leave the podium, and then quickly returned. “Until further notice.”

Immediately, soldiers rose and shuffled out of the room. The Tears also rose, but stayed for some reason unknown to them.

“Why do I have to be here?” snarled Valerie from behind Drake.

He turned to scowl at her, feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise a bit. “You are here out of respect. It should be a decision you make yourself—”

“Respect?” she spat loudly, thrusting a finger into the dragon’s chest. “First of all, I don’t even believe he’s dead! And if he is, he was killed by a fire-user. If he died against his own element, I’m not going to give my respect to his damned corpse.”

Smack!

Valerie stumbled backwards, clutching her cheek in disbelief. She glanced to her left to find Ethan glaring at her, teeth-clenched in uncharacteristic rage. “*****.” With that, he stalked swiftly out of the room, leaving the valkyrie to stare in shock at the hand now rubbing her reddened cheek. She looked up at Drake as if seeking sympathy.

A moment of weakness even in you. Without a word, Drake sneered and pushed past her to follow the time mage.

Shaking off the surprise, she put on a vicious snarl.

“They are only upset,” echoed the familiar voice of a birdlike telepath. “Pay no heed to their hatred; it is misguided.”

Valerie whirled on Psyx with a balled fist, and growled when she struck hard air. The Zelt’s gazed calmly at the valkyrie. His lips didn’t move. “Why so filled with hate?”

The tension was too much for her to bear. She pelted his barrier with vengeful fists until her strength was drained and she turned away in a huff, stalking out of the briefing room. Two men stood outside the room and placed frightened eyes on her. They’d heard the commotion. Their fearful eyes burned through her, and she burned hatefully back.

“Go to hell!” She gripped the man’s face in her hand and squeezed tightly, feeling bone crunch under her whitening fingers. The other soldier cried in terror and started backing down the corridor. The fearsome valkyrie’s eyes landed on him like daggers, and she thrust her other hand toward him. A bolt of lightning lanced out, and blood shot from the back of his head. He collapsed in a smoking, headless heap.

Focusing her attention on the remaining soldier quivering under her tightening grip, she sent a static burst through his system. He screamed as his body sizzled.

At that moment, someone barreled into her, throwing her to the ground. She looked up to find a magnum pointed at her head. The general’s breathing was heavy and his teeth were clenched as he hissed, “I don’t give a **** how pissed off or stressed out you are, you will not touch my men under any circumstances. Got that?”

A tense moment passed as the two stared one another down. Then Viscen slowly lowered his weapon, and Valerie was up in an instant with a bansheelike shriek. One loud shot echoed through the halls, and the blonde woman crumpled to the ground, clutching her crippled calf. The bullet had gone right through her leg, cracking the cement in a shower of blood and sparks.

“Sit down and shut up.” This time, Viscen kept his magnum trained on her, daring her to stand. “Are you going to calm down, or do I have to shoot you again?”

Seething with rage, Valerie let electricity roll out from her body and screamed in rage. That scream was immediately cut short as a foot slammed into her head, and she skittered into the wall.

“Damn, that ***** is crazy!” breathed the general, holstering his magnum.

“What the hell happened?” demanded Drake furiously as he approached from down the hall. “I heard a gunshot!” He noticed Valerie’s unconscious body and the two corpses lying nearby and groaned.

“We’ve got a problem. There’s no way she’s gonna make it through the procession without killing anyone.” The general sneered in disgust, summoning a medical crew with a touch to the comlink at his belt.

“Which reminds me,” muttered Drake, rubbing his right temple, “why are the Stars attending? They have no connection to Blitz, aside from Terrin. It will only be more crowded.”

Viscen let out a sigh and shrugged. “My guess is that elf kid wants our little fire innate to be honored. Him going to the funeral while all his men stay at home—guess it just doesn’t sit right with him. Detain her,” he said, motioning to the medical staff that had just appeared on the scene. Hiding a disgusted look, he added: “And get rid of those bodies, too.” He didn’t stop to watch them work.

“Either way, we have greater concerns,” said Zeroun as he emerged from the briefing, the Godmaker scepter guiding his footsteps. “Tensions are nearing the breaking point. Even the Tears are falling apart.” He motioned through the doorway at Hybrid, who was gnawing on one half of a stool he’d destroyed. “True, the death of Blitz is tragic, but if our enemies strike while we are in this state, we will shortly follow.”

The general slumped against the nearest wall and rubbed his forehead to stall a headache. “My God, you’re right… What the hell are we going to do?”

“Get this over with as soon as possible, that’s what.” Drake’s mood seemed to be growing worse by the minute. Valerie’s outburst only made him feel twice as unstable. Violent urges stirred just beneath the surface, and he was certain his comrades felt the same. “The quicker this funeral is over, the better everyone will feel. Casualties are not what we need right now.”

Viscen let out a weary breath as he rose to his full height. “Fine, then… Let’s get this gravy train rolling.”

The steel doors to Viscen’s briefing room opened abruptly, and in strode Pyre, followed by Joseph, Miranda, Blake, and Nathaniel. They stopped in front of the doorway. Joe was considerate enough to close the door with a nudge of his knee as soon as they were all inside. In a rather cunning sort of way, this movement made it appear as though the door has just closed of its own accord. Joe silently prided himself on this.

Viscen, who still stood behind his podium, saluted Pyre, although it was in a rather feeble way, as though all of his energy had been drained before the Stars had arrived. In a sense, they had. But not by external means. The fault had been his own actions against Valerie. But now was not the time to dwell on the insanity of the past few hours. Right now he had to greet a neighboring Alliance for the first time on many years, and help them stay comforted before Blitz’ funeral commenced.

“You are Viscen, correct?” inquired Pyre. Viscen nodded the affirmative, and gestured for them to have a seat in the front row before the podium. All the chairs were still in place, though the briefing was long finished. The Stars sat down quietly, and Viscen quick hopped down off the small step that led up to his speaking position. He was sweaty and tired, but he kept his calm. Things had happened fast.

“Let me first say,” said Pyre quietly, “that our bases are uncannily similar in both appearance and vibe.”

Viscen actually smiled at this. “I suppose I should thank you, but the latter keeps us in reality, I’m afraid.”

The Tear took a seat beside them, and cupped his hands together. His guns made sharp metallic ringing sounds when they connected slightly with the chair.

“Are those magnums?” asked Pyre, before he could stop himself. There was a strange smile on his face.

“Why yes,” said Viscen, shrugging some imaginary force off and returning the smile. “Delightful weapons, aren’t they? They’ve helped me out of a lot of tight spots.”

“I can imagine,” said Pyre, who touched a finger to the side of his coat, where he had one of his own magnums concealed. “I specialize in guns, myself, since most of the fancier Posative Force usually eludes me. Tell me, have you ever encountered a troll?”

“Ah… yes, numerous ones. I know, they’re messy creatures when it comes to gunning them down, aren’t they?” laughed Viscen.

“Yes… I’ll think twice before shooting one in the head when Blake is standing behind it,” replied Pyre. Blake, who sat a few chairs away, made a disgusted face at his general’s words.

“Don’t bring back the memory of soggy brains dripping down my face, and that would be great, sir,” he snarled. Pyre gave a sarcastic smile in response.

“I helped clean it off, quit your *****ing.”

“You flicked a few chunks off, you prick.”

Viscen chuckled heartily. “Well, enough about troll brains. Tell me, where is Terrin Tankira, and his wife Courtney? They are the ones to whom we owe the lives of Amy and Terra Keir.”

“Drake showed them to a room,” said Miranda suddenly.

“Yes,” muttered Nat quietly. “I don’t think we wanted to face the Alliance head-on for fear of too many questions to answer.”

“Indeed,” growled Viscen. “I’m sure Valerie would interrogate his brains right out of his head. Or zap them, no less…”

* * *

“Such a big improvement, eh?” glowered Terrin, staring around at the quite depressing room they now stood in. Courtney shot a disapproving look at him, before turning to the massive form of Drake, the dragon-man, and saying quietly, “if we are causing any trouble here, you need only let us know.”

Drake raised a friendly hand. “Madame, you are causing no problems. If anyone were to think of you as trouble, we would kick them out of this base forever. You saved Blitz’ wife, and his child, together. We owe you two a lot. It is an honor to have you here.”

Terrin frowned, but hid the movement when he turned around to face his friend.

“Thank you for letting us stay here,” he said. “I remember you saying that I was fortunate to see this base up close. Well, now my entire Alliance has that opportunity. I will see to it that they treat everyone here with respect. Some are bound to be resentful that though they didn’t know Blitz, I dragged them here to pay their respects.”

“No, please, it’s a nice thought that you would humble yourself so deeply for my brother,” said Drake, smiling warmly. “I will check in with you later to see how you are holding up. Enjoy your stay, if at all possible.”

He left, and shut the door almost silently.

Well, thought Terrin, I made it this far without killing anyone, but I can’t make any guarantees to myself, that’s for damn certain.


OoC: Blah, bad post.

Too cheerful, Drake chided himself in agitation as he strode down the halls away from the sleeping quarters, too transparent. Terrin had likely seen through the charade to the barely restrained twitching. This whole funeral mess was going to drive him insane. Three God-forsaken days… I can’t take this! He stopped and clenched his clawed fists. The half-dragon’s eyes darted to the side, landing upon the inviting, steel-reinforced walls.

Faster than lightning, he ripped four long gashes into the wall. His other hand lashed out, but he paused. This was insanity. He slowly retracted his arms and unclenched his fists. Looking at his hands, he saw that strips of steel had clung to his claws. He closed his eyes and gripped his forehead tightly. Tearing the base apart would only make his frustration more obvious. Viscen would view Drake as cause for concern and have him detained along with Valerie. The last thing he wanted right now was to be in earshot of that wench. While he could easily escape the holding cells, unlike the valkyrie, it would only mean more trouble.

Ugh…there must be some way to relieve this tension. He started down the hallway once more, hoping that no one would suspect he’d been responsible for the damage. And I’ll be damned if they so much as consider detaining me.

***

“Zeroun,” said Ethan quietly, certain that no one could hear him.

The Wind Mage turned and glanced at him, tapping his runic scepter once on the tiled floor. The mess hall was virtually empty today. What with all the commotion, everyone had lost their appetites. “Yes?”

Ethan avoided his comrade’s piercing gaze. “I have a favor to ask. Will you lend me the Godmaker?”

Zeroun’s eyes went wide. “Whatever for?”

“I think I am finally ready to learn what happened to my kind, but I cannot do so on my own. I need the scepter to amplify my eyes.”

The mage smiled softly and let out a small chuckle. In this mild lighting, he seemed so peaceful. “Is that so? Well, then, it would be a pleasure to lend you my aid.” He raised a finger. “However, there is much to be done. The Wielder of the Sword’s death has left many distressed. Six hours from this time tomorrow, you shall have the Godmaker. Use this time to prepare yourself.”

Ethan blinked, anxious to discover just what had transpired so many millennia ago, but slowly accepted the Wind Mage’s words. “Yes, you are right,” he said, nodding. “I will do as you say. When the time comes, I will be ready.”

Zeroun’s smile widened. “Good. Now let us eat to strengthen ourselves for the days to come.”

The time mage glanced up at his comrade in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Why, you must know that the Stars will not be so eager to depart after the funeral. The Alliance is a grand spectacle. I foresee there will be much good from our visitors.”

Ethan pondered this quietly while Zeroun waited at the counter for whatever was being served that day; most likely leftovers from yesterday. Would the Stars be staying longer than the funeral? This may be bad news for the others. If they continue here, they will serve as a reminder of Blitz… That would definitely set the Tears on edge. Resolving to speak with the general about this when he had the chance, the time mage quickly followed after his comrade.

***

“You are welcome in any of the unused quarters,” said Viscen jovially, handing Pyre a clipboard. “Here is a list of currently vacant rooms. Decide for yourselves where you will sleep tonight. As for this old geezer, I think I’ll be retiring soon. If you need something to do, just speak with one of the Tears. They can show you around. Just make sure you avoid the brig.”

Somewhat amused at the Star general’s flustered expression, Viscen picked up and started away. He needed to get out of there before his patience ran dry. But as he came near to the door, the general felt something prick at his brain. Stopping in surprise, he turned and cast an inconspicuous glance around the room. His eyes landed on the female with them. Great. A mind-reader, that’s just wonderful. Restraining a grimace, he quickly left the room.

Pyre and Viscen sat perched precariously on the edge of the roof, staring out across the bleak plains that stretched before the Tears base, oddly vacant expressions on their faces.

“Do you think he’s really gone?” muttered Viscen, sounding very much like a drunkard, though he had not yet downed a single drop of alcohol. Pyre wanted to say something to comfort his fellow general, and new friend, but he knew for a fact that Blitz Keir was dead. Terrin had described it all in vivid detail, though he had come close to tears as he recited the bloody tale. It had been weaved with such descriptiveness, that the Stars general knew that his elf companion could not have been lying. Besides, that was hardly something to joke about. Terrin would never do that.

Pyre did not answer. He simply reached down below his chair, and lifted up a clear bottle of 80 proof vodka, which he set between their seats, uncorking it loudly. Viscen’s eyes fell on it, and he immediately identified its source.

“Peruvian made, 1960?”

Pyre stared at him in astonishment. How the bloody hell did he know that without even looking at the label?

“Er,” muttered the Stars general, “yeah, that’s right. Would you like some?”

“Yes, I would,” replied Viscen without hesitation. Pyre tossed him a small shot glass, and took one for his own use. With his free hand, he picked up the bottle, and filled both glasses. Viscen immediately pulled his away, and downed it quickly. Pyre stared at the fellow general for a second, before taking his own shot, muttering "cheers", and reaching down to fill another. Viscen had already stuck out his glass for a refill.

“Quite the connoisseur, aren’t you?” grinned Pyre, filling up the shot glass again. He had no problem sharing his drinks, especially with a fellow high ranking officer.

“More than you know,” said Viscen, actually managing a small smile. “I’m going to need to get drunk before this whole gravy train gets rolling. If I don’t, I’m afraid I’m going to lose my last remnants of sanity. We can’t have that.”

“No,” agreed Pyre, setting the bottle down and holding his glass uncertainly in his left hand. His eyes swept over the plains looming in front of them, taking in the sight of breathtaking majesty. “No, we can’t.”

For a quiet moment, Viscen stared at his empty glass, wondering how many shots it would take to drown his sorrows. Then a wry smile crossed his face, quickly turning into an excited grin. He turned to face the Star general and said emphatically: “Say, how would you like to see my wine cellar? I’ve got vintages dating back to the 1700’s!”

Pyre blinked at him in bewilderment, staring for several long moments before nodding. “Yes, I think I’d like that.”

“Alright, then,” Zeth said, motioning with his hand while turning toward the staircase back into the base. “It’s a bit of a walk, so we can do some chatting in the meantime. Have you ever tried a 1670 sherry? Simply divine!”

***

“I am not in the mood,” muttered Drake, quickening his pace to put some distance between he and his canine companion.

“Look, we’re both stressed out. It will make us both feel better.” The red-breasted, black creature’s spaded tail was level, but wagging slightly, indicating restrained irritation. “Besides, you can’t honestly tell me you don’t want to slit the throats of a few agents.”

Drake stopped and clenched his fists tightly. His frustration had been reaching exponentially new levels every few minutes since he received word of his brother’s death. Hybrid was only serving to agitate that ever-present violence resting beneath the dragon-man’s cool collection. “If I so much as see Dark Horizon soldier now, I might not be able to hold back from ripping the base to shreds.”

Hybrid attempted something like rolling his eyes. “Fine!” he growled. “Repress until you turn hysterical and kill everyone in your path, it doesn’t bother me.” With that, the creature turned and bolted down the corridor toward the training sims.

The dragon-man’s eye twitched. His comrade was right. If he failed to release this pent-up tension, it would eventually get the best of him. True, if he lost himself in the neurographic images, things could become very dangerous. But the simulation chambers were heavily reinforced and capable of withstanding some of the most devastating elemental attacks. If he went ballistic anywhere else, the repercussions would be severe.

He hissed, unsure of whether the dog could hear him. Gritting his teeth and hoping for the best, Drake whirled around and followed after Hybrid.

OoC: 'Sword, please post ASAP. I came up with a brilliant idea, but it wouldn't feel right in this post, so I'm waiting till my next one. This idea is so good it makes me want to hug something out of lonliness. << That'll make more sense once I write the idea. Oh, and let me describe the cellar, if you don't mind. Heehee.

Terrin emerged onto the roof of the Tears base, walking soundlessly to the railing and gazing out on the endless plains stretching before his eyes. In the distance, the horizon met the sky, and all the stars it contained… many of which Terrin knew well. The elf felt like he had to get away from Courtney for a short time. He just didn’t think he could stand her comforting words any longer. They did nothing but agitate him further, and he thought she knew this, which was why she didn’t ask where he was going when he had abruptly left the room without so much as a glance back at his wife. In the back of his mind, he felt bad about this, but he knew he would have time to apologize later. Across the roof behind him, Terrin could hear Pyre and Viscen conversing with slightly slurred speech. Drunk again… thought Terrin. Not at all surprising.

Another reason he had left the walls of the base was that there was always the off-chance that he would run back into Amy or Terra within the tight confines, out of the hundreds of Alliance members. He couldn’t stand seeing their faces at the moment… they only brought unwanted memories back to his mind… unwelcome thoughts of a flame-wreathed sword flying forward at neck breaking speed far above his eyes as he lay on top of rough, smoking bricks, impaling Blitz Keir in the chest and turning him almost disconcertingly quickly to ash, and then to nothing… nothing but a mere memory…

His grief threatening to overwhelm him, the elf did the only thing he could when he was overcome with such bursts of emotion. He concentrated all his thought on his wife, watching her face hover in his minds eye, smiling that soothing smile that always seemed to calm him in even the direst situation. The shrubbery scattered about the immense plains shivered in the night breeze. Dawn was approaching, and soon the funeral would commence. Terrin had no idea what would happen to him when he attended. He was near the breaking point as it was, having already walked out on his wife and abandoned the Stars to navigate a neighboring Alliance’s base by themselves, though hardly knowing its contents. He decided not to worry himself about it for the time being… what would happen would happen, and he could do nothing to change that. The best he could do was accept that he had to make the best of his situation.

He raised a hand off of the rail he was leaning against, and brought it to eye level, clenching it into a fist. A ripple spread from his fist, flowing through the air in a strange way. The dust particles rising from the bases roof made contact with the ripples, and on contact simply disappeared in miniscule puffs of smoke, which were instantly erased from reality. Smiling a little as he watched himself create wrinkles in the space-time continuum, Terrin gazed out onto the plains, finally beginning to feel slight peace spreading through his limbs, the first time since he had arrived at the base in such a sloppy manner…

And a hint of movement caught his attention. Perking up at once, he let go of the time wrinkle and used his ever improved eye sight to scout the plain horizon. His final ascension had lent him a power (out of the millions of new ones he had acquired) that enabled him to figuratively gaze as far as he wanted. If he concentrated hard enough, he could pierce walls, hills, and even mountains if he wanted. He took advantage of his eye prowess to drift away from his body faster than the speed of sound. He flashed across the plains, and in an instant, he came upon a terrible sight.

There was a massive army… over one hundred thousand troops garbed in heavy black armor, indistinguishable in their ominous glory, marching loudly and purposefully toward the base. Their numbers stretched literally for miles… their boots thumped down onto the parched grass with disconcerting precision, melding into one mindless slam after another, causing the ground to literally shake as they did so. Not a single troop wavered or broke ranks. They traveled neatly and rigid, their jet black pistols, machine guns, shotguns, rifles and rocket launchers clutched in stiff arms, their eyes fixed, through their helms, straight forward, in the direction they marched – in a beeline toward the Tears’ base. It was an impressive display… Terrin knew without knowing how he knew, that these were Dark Horizon agents, all gathered together in a massive army, gunning toward the weakened Tears. Somehow, Dark Horizon had discovered that Blitz was dead. It was their moment of glory… it was their time to finally tear down their enemies.

Yet even as the insuppressible terror spread through the elf’s limbs, the army itself wasn’t the most shocking sight. Because marching calmly in front of them all, not bothering to have garbed himself into anything special (other than his regular horrid garb), was someone Terrin knew. His skin was an ugly shade of dark yellow. He had disgusting five o’clock shadow, large sun glasses, carried two gleaming sabers at his side, was tall and very intimidating, and had muscles disproportionate to his height. His ears were pointed, though Terrin knew for certain that this was just for show. This man was not an elf… he was not a human, either. In fact, he wasn’t really even a living entity. He was an it…

“Blaze!” choked Terrin, and as soon as he uttered the dreaded name, he felt the insane aura of Darkness sweep through his body, emanating from the yellow-skinned raw Posative Cell marching forward, commanding Dark Horizon in its triumphant march. This Cell – Blaze – contained more Posative power than all of the Stars combined, and enough skill to fight off an entire army with no assistance whatsoever. What the hell is he doing on Earth? I thought he left here long ago! cried Terrin desperately in his mind. He fixed his eyesight solely on Blaze, eyeing his disgusting yellow skin with distaste… and he saw a flicker. A shadow suddenly leapt from the Posative Cell/Humanoid, and another figure materialized, mimicking the movements of its counterpart. This figure was almost identical to Blaze, except its skin was not yellow, but purple. And it was slightly taller.

“And O’Mally?” yelled Terrin. Utter panic encased him, and he withdrew from his extended sight, stumbling back from the railing, tripping, and falling abruptly onto his back. He actually crawled frantically away from the edge, his limbs shaking badly. Get a god damn grip, Tankira!

Terrin bolted upright suddenly, his panic still shooting through him, accompanied by waves of icy terror… but he was now in control. Marginally.

“PYRE! VISCEN! WE’VE GOT TROUBLE!”

“What?” shouted the general in disbelief, nearly dropping his shot glass. “Great, this is just wonderful!” He tried to take another swig from the glass, but upon realizing it was empty, he failed to see a point in not shattering it on the roof. “Does this mean we have a double-agent?” He blinked at Pyre, then back at Terrin and spoke very calmly. “Not a word of this.”

They both nodded in understanding. The allied general was the first to speak. “We of the Stars organization offer you our full support.”

Viscen grunted. “You are welcomed and well appreciated here, General Pyre.” He shook his ally’s hand and immediately descended the stairway to the base’s heart. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

***

“Zeroun,” Amy said weakly, wrapping her arms tightly around the Wind Mage, “what am I going to do without him?” Tears were trickling from her sealed eyes, her breathing was shallow.

Taken aback at first, Zeroun Adli blinked. Poor dear… She has suffered much. Relinquishing his surprise, he embraced the girl and drew her close as she leaned into him. In all his wisdom, the mage could think of nothing to console her. That boy was her very life. For once, he thought in slight amusement, I am at a loss for words. The least he could do was hold her.

The young widow sobbed quietly into his shoulder until she could hardly stand. Seeing her weariness, Zeroun hefted her horizontally into his arms, letting the girl bury her shoulder into his shoulder, and carried her to her room. Pausing briefly outside the door, he laid down his scepter and carried her through the doorway.

“Amy, you should rest.”

She nodded feebly, tears still spilling down her cheek.

Smiling softly, Zeroun stepped to the bedside and laid her gently down. She curled into a tight ball, facing away from him, eyes still tightly shut. Taking a step back, the mage snapped one finger and the room went dark. Hesitant to leave the young girl, Zeroun stood silently over her trembling body. But his presence would only keep her awake, and so, with a heavy sigh, he turned and strode slowly out of the room.

As the door slid shut behind him, the mage came to a startling realization. “…What?” he cried in disbelief, eyes widening. The Godmaker was gone. A long, tense moment passed.

…Ethan.

***

She looked so heartbroken lying beneath her sheets. Even in sleep, she could not stop crying. Seeing his love like this ripped into his heart, but no tears would fall from his eyes. Why can’t I cry? he thought, scrunching his face. He could cry and sob forever, but not a single tear was left.

Amy let out a small noise as if in pain, curling tighter. Unable to restrain himself, the spirit drifted forward from before the armoire and lay in bed next to her. She shifted, and was now very close to his otherworldly body. Blitz gazed sadly at her tearstained face before wrapping both arms tightly around her. Sweetheart…I’m so, so sorry… God, I’m so sorry…

Then, to his surprise, she thrust out her arms and embraced him. He blinked in disbelief and stared into her beautiful face. Tightening his arms, he realized that he did not pass through her as before. Suddenly, his need to cry intensified. I…I can…feel her… She was warm, yet freezing all at once. Her blouse wrinkled under his fingers as he held her close as possible. Slipping her blouse off of her shoulder, he caressed the silken flesh of her shoulder and watched her shiver with pleasure under his gentle touch. As the spirit focused on his beloved’s face, he saw a faint smile. Still asleep, she leaned closer to him.

He leaned closer as well, but hesitated. Can I…? Is it possible?

Her lips were trembling as she held onto him for dear life. There was hardly a breath’s width between them. Casting aside all other thought, Blitz darted forward and pressed his lips to hers. In that moment, the girl’s sleepy tears dried up and the innate forgot everything. United once more, the two lovers kissed passionately as the world and its problems slipped away.

Not even the dangers marching this way could have torn them from their embrace.

The alarms blared loudly in Terrin’s ears as he hurtled himself through the steel hallways of the Tears base, making a beeline toward his room, where Courtney undoubtedly still resided. He had left her all alone when there was an army on the march to destroy them... despite how he tried to prevent the thoughts from reaching his brain, ideas that he might be too late, and that she had already been killed leapt wildly through his mind. It was half formed and made no sense, since no evil had penetrated the base -- yet -- but the elf could think of nothing else as he pelted past siren after siren. He heard Viscen’s astoundingly calm and gathered voice (considering he had been smashed two minutes ago) over the intercom.

“Emergency,” thundered the Tears general, betraying no signs of tipsiness. “There is an army marching toward us. Dark Horizon horadrim, led by unknown forces. This is not a drill. Everyone man your assigned positions, and suit up.”

Terrin reached their room, and shouldered the door open. His new godly powers put unintended force into the blow, and the hinges snapped under the pressure, the wood cascading off in different directions, fragments littering the ground. The door fell inward, but Terrin ignored it. He beheld Courtney, who stood up the moment she laid eyes upon him.

“Terrin,” she whispered, terror evident in her voice, “who is leading them?”

“Its Blaze,” growled the elf, sighing in defeat. He had suspected that his wife would know that they had something to do with the emergency, and he had been right. “And O’Mally.”

She swore violently and leapt up off the bed. Terrin watched her as she seized her gloves and pulled them forcibly on, gritting her teeth behind her lips to hold in the evident frustration. “We brought them here,” she snarled quietly, stretching her fingers to test out the flexibility of the gloves. “Blaze must know we’re here!”

“We don’t know that,” said Terrin at once, for he had been clinging to the small idea that it may not be their fault. “Blaze could have discovered Dark Horizon over the many years between our showdown up at the lab. We don’t know when he came to Earth Dark Horizon would have been a perfect opportunity for him to get his revenge on the Stars, since Kyros is out of commission... as far as I know, at least.”

“But he brought O’Mally,” insisted Courtney, striding up to him and holding his shoulders in her hands and staring at him right in the eyes. “He may have brought him because he knew he’d need extra help to take out the Stars.”

“What if he was told by Dark Horizon that the Tears are quite formidable, even without Blitz?” suggested Terrin. “They obviously know that he is dead, the timing is too perfect. O’Mally might be there to help him kill the Tears. He may not know we’re here.”

Before Courtney could respond, Psyx appeared quite suddenly behind Terrin, standing in the doorway where the door had stood before Terrin knocked it over. The psychic didn’t look surprised in the least that one of their doors was ruined.

Come with me, they both heard his voice in their heads. There is much to discuss.

One soldier’s face caved in under a draconic fist, and his legs were immediately shredded by canine fangs. The two Tears bolted in opposite directions, razor-sharp claws rending Dark Horizon forces to fleshy ribbons. Hardly a blade of grass was not soaked crimson. Men dropped like flies in a furnace as the animalistic dance of Drake and Hybrid intensified. Pent-up stress poured from every slash. Their enemies never had the chance to squeeze off a round.

“Cover me!” Without waiting for a reply, Drake extended his wings and thrust himself into the air. Holographic reticules appeared all around him, and then disappeared an instant later as his canine companion melted the soldiers with sweeping, fiery breath. The transformation was almost instant; long, serrated tail; lean forelegs; powerful hide; thick, blue scales; and a jaw full of needles. Pity they’re only projections, or this would be truly satisfying. The blue dragon reared back its head and, with a thunderous cry, shot six volleys of electric energy from its mouth. The explosive shockwaves sent cries of terror through Dark Horizon’s ranks as they fell in multitudes.

But amidst the havoc, one soldier’s reticule was not extinguished. There was a loud pop, and for the dragon, time nearly stopped. The heated lead spiraled toward his eye, and he braced himself for the simulated agony. He blinked, and in that instant, the blood-stained field vanished, leaving behind the steel box of a room that was the Alliance’s training simulator.

“Emergency,” came the general’s voice, accompanied by a blaring alarm. “There is an army marching toward us. Dark Horizon horadrim, led by unknown forces. This is not a drill. Everyone man your assigned positions, and suit up.”

Drake’s eyes went wide. By the Celestials, a full-scale invasion? He cast a glance at Hybrid, but the mind-reader was already bolting from the room, shouting something about the real fun beginning. Those ravenous wolves! Of all times, why now? Grinding his teeth in frustration, the dragon-man took off behind his canine companion. A desecration of my brother’s good name… I’ll slaughter them all with my own claws.

***

Zeroun halted, eyes wide in disbelief as he supported one arm on a steel wall and panted. Not only was the Godmaker gone, but now Dark Horizon was conducting an invasion. At least all the remaining Tears were gathered here, as well as the Stars and their forces. Morale is low, but still there could be no better time for an attack of this scale.

Yet the scepter, the Alliance’s most valuable asset, had gone missing. Ethan, do not be foolish. Where have you gone, and what will you accomplish by learning now? He sighed and let his head drop a bit, seagreen bangs spilling over his face. A single drop of dripped from his forehead. Even the always serene wind mage was suffering anxiety. I should report for duty…

***

The feathered reptile glanced up as his cryotank slid open. Unfolding his arms and hitting ground on four, two-toed feet, he heard his general over the intercom and nodded rose slowly. The lights clicked on, but he did not flinch. Such was one perk of being blind. With one mental flick at his room, the telepath vanished and reappeared in a massive room the size of two football fields. Psyx knew there were four other stallcourts adjacent to this one, and heavily armed men were spilling into each.

Do you believe the Stars will aid us? he asked of the canine screeching to a halt nearby.

Though capable of communicating mentally with the other telepath, Hybrid preferred speech. “They’re already waiting in the other stallcourts. It’s too crowded.”

Psyx emitted a mental laugh. Then why did you come here? There will be just as little elbowroom. As he spoke, the backdoor of the garage began to open and men flooded in.

The dog shrugged. “Won’t be in here as long.”

Drake slid to a stop between them, slipping a comlink off his belt. “Viscen, orders.”

An electronic voice replied irritably from the speaker. “I believe it’s my job to tell you.” He cleared his throat. “Hold back. The Tears will be the second wave. The Stars’ elite forces have an appointment with the lab.”

Drake scowled and noticed the looks of his comrades. “What the…?”

I believe, Psyx thought loudly, he is planning to inject them with ESECs.

The dragon-man’s scowl deepened. Injecting ESECs into non-humans unnaturally was a hazardous process that often resulted in terrible mutations, but more often death. They may be powerful, but that doesn’t mean they’re bodies are perfect. They are still susceptible to disease. What is Viscen planning?

“I don’t know or care, but I’m about ready to rip the stall door open myself,” muttered Hybrid. Drake shot him a look, but the canine returned it. “You know I don’t care about nobility. Just because he won’t read your mind if you don’t want him to,” he swiped a claw at Psyx, “doesn’t mean I won’t.”

The half-dragon gripped his head in one hand and growled in agitation, slipping the comlink back on his belt. “Save it for Dark Horizon.”

***

Glancing back at the half-submerged construction he now called home, the time mage pondered briefly how long he could continue slowing his progression through time. It had been fifteen minutes natural time since he left, and the effort was already taxing his body, though not overly so. Ethan returned his gaze to the plains ahead, able to make out some debris in the distance. T’lemenheim, the once grand castle built over the ruins of the Eye, was not too far off. If Zeroun’s vision of long ago was accurate, that ancient site would amplify the Godmaker’s power.

Suddenly, his sensitive ears picked up the alarm and he blinked in surprise. Though its wail was dramatically slowed, he recognized it instantly. That’s red alert! An invasion?

There was no time to waste. He had to return to the base as soon as possible, but he could not abandon the task at hand. Ethan pounded the earth fast as his feet would allow toward T’lemenheim.

Joseph jumped over the large gaping ravine that stretched all the way across the lower level of the base, following the Stars as they trudged behind Psyx, who was striding purposefully along without even the slightest hint that he was in any way worried about Blaze and O’Mally’s army drawing nearer and nearer every minute.

“Where are we going?” asked Miranda, her confusion evident. Blake held her hand as they walked, making sure to keep close to her, as if he thought something might have already invaded the base. Terrin noticed this, and thought privately that he was being overprotective. Courtney walked calmly beside him, her face set into a hard grimace. She had not yet fully recovered from the shock of hearing that Blaze and O’Mally were heading toward them.

To the labs said Psyx, projecting his voice into each of the Stars’ heads. We must inject you all with ESECs. General Viscen has admitted that the results could be unpredictable, but at this point, you all need as much help as possible, and the ESECs will not be fatal. At least, not the way he describes it.

“And how exactly does he describe it?” growled Nat impatiently.

With contempt, if I’m not mistaken, replied Psyx, with the slightest hint that he might be hiding a laugh behind that sentence. I am sure that nothing bad will come of this injection, but we can’t be sure of the exact results. Make haste, General Pyre is waiting as well.

“Just like Pyre to follow a wine connoisseur around,” muttered Blake.

By the sounds of it, he didn’t really follow. Viscen had to help him stand a few times.

“He was never one to hold his whiskey well,” grinned Joseph. “That’s why he loves it so much.”

“Well, lets just hope his standards aren’t mixed,” muttered Courtney darkly. “We need his guidance when we are released in the third wave.”

I doubt that, said Psyx.

Nobody dared ask what he meant.

“Doctor Valerian Aulis,” said the Alliance general boldly to one of four physicians in the small laboratory, “go outside and await the Stars. Brief them on the specifics of the injection while we finish preparations.”

“Yessir.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the lean, black-haired doctor darted out the mechanical door, which hissed shut behind him.

Viscen turned his attention to the other medical staff and watched as they obeyed his implied order. They moved silently on the lime-green tiles, precisely in the dim lighting, fingers darting across keyboards despite the tension. None of them enjoyed this. A steel covering at the center of the floor slid away and a leather-coated plaster chair slowly rose from the opening. Eyeing its armrest- and back-mounted equipment including drills, needles and assorted cutting tools, the commander furrowed his brow nervously. “I can’t help pitying them.”

Pyre cast a glance at one of the medical staff. “You use anesthetic, right?”

“No,” replied one of the doctors busily fishing through a file cabinet across the room. “Anesthetic interferes with the bonding of ESECs to the nervous system. The body must be fully awake for the duration of this procedure; numbness is out of the question.”

Viscen stroked his chin, remembering the first and only time he witnessed this process several years ago. He halted his thoughts, trying not to imagine himself on that sinister upholstery. “Brutal. Anything at all to ease the pain?”

The same physician slipped a folder out of the cabinet and kicked it shut. He replied without a glance while crossing to the chair. “Valerian has been working on a neurotoxin recently, but it’s not ready for use. If the attack had been two weeks later, this might be easier on the Stars elite forces.” He stepped on a lever at the back of the seat, and the armrest drill snapped into position over the chair where someone’s head would be in a few minutes. “For now, though, it will be excruciating.”

Seven chairs were lined up neatly in rows when the Stars trudged into the laboratory, stony faced and not at all eager to sit down. One of the doctors had explained the procedure of the artificial injection, and it seemed that the last thing any of them wanted to do was feel excruciating pain right before a grand scale war was about to unfold. Although it was an unpleasant thought, the Stars knew it was necessary. Even Pyre was getting the injection, though on a smaller level, since he would be issuing orders more than actually fighting off the Dark Horizon agents.

As soon as Terrin laid eyes on his chair, he knew at once that he would rather go throw himself into the chasm splitting the Tears base in half than sit down there. There was a doctor wearing a surgeon’s mask standing calmly beside it, gesturing ominously toward the seat.

Each of the chairs were tall and padded, though they had cuffs on the arm rests for god knew what reason. From the backs and sides of each seat, there were large metal tools used for prying, stabbing, injecting, ripping, and overall painful procedures. The worst part, in Terrin’s opinion, and most likely all the other Stars, was what looked to be a drill, in each of the doctors’ hands.

This had better be worth it, or plague take me, I’ll fight in the first wave with nothing but my wits.

OoC: I feel very evil. Like...mad scientist evil. Part one of the procedure, commence. ^^

BiC:

Upon seeing their disheartened faces, Viscen put on an inviting smile to lighten the mood. “Come in, come in. Have a seat.” He patted the back of the nearest chair with a broad hand, but the Stars’ expressions remained skeptical. The Alliance general cleared his throat. “Seriously, siddown.”

All of them reluctantly plopped into a chair and eyed their respective drills suspiciously.

They’re awfully tense, he thought. If they’re going to go through with this, they might as well laugh a bit. “Tea and crumpets, anyone?”

Pyre laughed heartily and several of the Stars glared in his direction. He didn’t seem to notice.

More medical staff had joined them in the room by now; four male and three female; seven in all. Each was stationed behind a chair. Valerian, the Chief Medical Officer, stood over Terrin, giving him a warm look. “I hope you’re all wearing undergarments. Please remove your shirts.”

They obeyed silently, though Terrin gave the medic a wry look.

“Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Just try not to squirm.” He flicked a switch and the clasps on the armrest shot closed over Terrin’s wrists. Several of the others cried out in surprise as they experienced the same.

The elf would have leapt from his seat in terror were it not for the clamp around his neck. “What is this?” he demanded.

Valerian was perfectly calm while maneuvering the armrest drill out of the way. “It’s only a precaution. Try not to fidget and don’t worry.”

You’re putting a drill in his spine and you’re telling him not to worry? Viscen deliberately neglected to voice the thought as he glanced at the other Stars. They all seemed just as disturbed as Terrin, except for the psychic girl who seemed much worse. It was a wonder she hadn’t broken free from the restraints yet. You know what could go wrong, huh? I’ll bet you wish you didn’t read their minds now. She glared at him. …Damn.

The physicians moved in almost perfect unison as they triggered the neck clamps which lurched forward, forcing the Stars to lean over, leaving their backs exposed. The chairs each straightened horizontally then, and the armrest drills automatically swiveled a few inches from the centers of their backs. “You may feel some discomfort, sweetie,” said the female medic standing over Courtney. “If it’s too much, squeeze your fists. Just don’t fidget.”

A sharp buzzing filled the air as the drills activated and moved very slowly toward each of the Stars’ spines.

Terrin felt the drill jabbing unrelentingly into his spine, and he winced openly. The doctor standing next to his chair with the surgeon mask on, placed a hand on his hunched over shoulders, and muttered “Don’t worry, it won’t be for long.”

Terrin glared at the doctor, thinking privately that he’d like to put him through the procedure while he stood around muttering condolences. To pass by the discomfort, he turned to see how his fellow Stars were reacting. Courtney, like him, was simply wincing slightly. Blake was gritting his teeth and staring at his boots, determinedly not making a sound. Miranda had her eyes closed, her hands clutching the arm rests tightly.

Nat, to Terrin’s left, was not making a sound. In fact, he hadn’t changed his facial expression at all. He simply stared ahead with a blank face, his emotions completely inscrutable.

He’s one to hold in the pain, but not the whiskey, thought Terrin, a slight smirk crossing his face.

OoC: Meh.

Viscen watched the Stars' reactions with grim amusement, arms crossed and eyebrows narrowed. It's good that this isn't unbearable for them, or the next part of the injection would might kill them. He let out a chuckle, but quickly stopped himself before receiving any glares. Then again, if any of them turned to look, their spinal cords would have been severed.

Then a thought occurred to him. "Hey, Doc. How long do you think it will take for the ESECs to be usable? Will it be instant?"

Valerian spoke without looking away from the drill. "Not instant, but within minutes. I am curious as to how the ESECs will interact with the posative cells already in their bodies." Blood seeped from the hole in Terrin's back, and the drill ceased automatically. "Nurse."

The female physician hovering over Courtney's seat nodded and recited with such monotony that she might as well have been reading a college textbook. "Please remain as still as possible. Any movement may disrupt the following part of the procedure." At that moment, the arm mounted on the back of the chair split and a bladed edge slit across the back of the elf's neck.

"****!" yelled Terrin automatically, his hands fighting against the wrist restraints. He could have broken through them, but somehow the blade sticking into the base of his neck was distracting him. Realizing he couldn't break free, and that he probably didn't want to, he settled for balling his hands into fists and gritting his teeth. He was forced to feel the blade digging into his flesh. He felt his own warm blood sliding down his back, and a tissue wiping it up...

He heard several more low curses being uttered across the room as the same blade stuck into each member of the Stars Elite. Glaring at the floor, Terrin tried to think of something that would calm his anxiety, both for the open wound in his neck, and the massive army marching inexorably closer by each passing second.

"You'd better hope this helps us," he heard Blake growl. That made him smile a little... but the moment of lightheartedness was quickly stifled when the blade inched further inside his skin.

Viscen flinched noticeably but kept his arms crossed in an attempt to hide his reaction to the sound of parting flesh. In combat this would not have bothered him, but something about surgical procedures always made the general jumpy. Were his presence not required, he would have opted to join the other Tears in their stallcourt. Fortunately, this phase lasted only a few moments.

“I apologize for that,” said Valerian sincerely, “but it is necessary to disable a vital nerve near the brain stem, else your bodies would reject the injection and this procedure would be in vain.” The blades retracted sharply, and each Star’s physician immediately pressed a cloth to their necks to clot the blood. The rags were soaked in an instant. “Now for the painless part.” The Chief Medical Officer chuckled. He produced a surgical needle from his inside pocket and, after removing the drill, he clipped it onto the primary arm which swiveled and clicked into place over Terrin’s back again. It now remained steady, poised over the small, bleeding hole.

The needle extended, pierced directly to the spine’s marrow and oozed out a gelatinous substance. Its job finished, the arm retracted and rested calmly around the back of the chair. The injection phase was complete.

Valerian removed a small ink pen-like device and aimed it at the still bleeding hole. At the press of a button, it fired a small, focused laser, heating Terrin’s spine and the ESECs within. Then he nudged the pen directly into the elf’s back, causing the cells to spread out. With that done, the medical officer flipped his pen over and pressed another button. This time, when the laser met Terrin’s flesh, it began to knit bone and skin together, regenerating the wound.

“That should do it. You may not feel any differently now, but in a matter of minutes, you will all be endowed with a new power over the elements. You may now put your clothes back on.”

Terrin hurried along down the steel corridor, every shining plate of the walls and ceiling seeming to jump out at him. He flinched involuntarily as he ran. This must be some unforeseen side effect from the ESECs… He glanced from side to side, studying Courtney’s movement, as well as Blake’s, Miranda’s and Nat’s. Pyre jogged slightly behind them, and on his tail were over two hundred Alliance soldiers, most of them human, though some elves added to the mix. They all clutched machine guns to their chests, and their faces were stonily set forward. Nothing could stop them.

Terrin saw that all of the Stars, like him, were experiencing inner tremors, and he wanted to stop and check if everyone was okay, but he knew he couldn’t do that.

“Nearly there,” said Pyre between breaths.

“How the hell do you know that?” growled Nat, clutching at his chest as it made a sort of hiccupping motion, though no sounds left his mouth. He seemed to be in a bad mood after the procedure. Nobody could blame him – having the back of your neck sliced open wasn’t exactly something to jump for joy about.

“Viscen told me the exact location of the jet that I am to be piloting,” explained the Stars General. With a flick of his wrist, he unlocked the safety on the two magnums strapped at his hips. “Apparently we had a ship almost exactly identical to it back at our base. He described it to me. I think I can fly it well enough.”

“Wait a minute,” gasped Blake. “You don’t know for sure?”

“Well, no,” admitted Pyre. “But I’m almost certain…”

“Do you even know the controls? YOU’VE NEVER SEEN THE BLOODY THING?” yelled Courtney, seeming to lose her patience all at once. Terrin placed a hand on her shoulder, which he wasn’t able to retain for long, as they were still running heatedly along the corridor. Although he couldn’t stay in the position, she seemed to understand that she needed to calm down.

But she didn’t.

“Where the **** is this ship thing?” demanded Miranda, also losing any scrap of patience. She was clutching at the bloody stitches on the back of her neck where the blade had cut into her, a look of pure disgust and contempt on her fair face.

“Its…” Pyre paused. Some of the Alliance soldiers seemed to be listening in on the conversation, despite their best efforts to ignore it. Terrin could sense their apprehension, and slight amusement as they heard the goings-on of their leaders.

“Yes?” prompted Terrin.

“Right here,” finished the Stars General, stopping abruptly and turning into a small side room, with no door, only a frame where one probably once stood. It was a medium sized, dome shaped area, made of the same steel walls as the rest of the base. There was a circular hatch on the far wall where the ship would undoubtedly exit out of. The ship itself was parked in the center of the room on strange metallic hinges. It was an unremarkable black jet, about fifty yards long, with horizontal fins on the back end, a window on the front (bullet proof), and side doors for paratroops to jump out of. Terrin had no doubt in his mind that they would be doing just that… though probably not with parachutes.

One of the soldiers hurried past the ship and strode up to the hatch. He twisted a small crank, and the panel opened slowly up, accompanied by a droning sound…

But that was not the only sound that came with the opening to the outside. There was a steady thumping sound that suddenly jarred and shook the floors and walls around them. Each soldier could feel it. Pyre, who was opening one of the side doors of the black jet, clutched at the smooth siding, nearly slipping and falling when it gave a particularly violent shake.

“What the bloody hell is that?” he shouted, sounding completely bewildered. The soldier who had opened up the hatch was staring out of the opening, his jaw slack with wonder. Terrin hurried forward, accompanied by the rest of the Stars, Pyre taking a moment to regain his footing before he moved to join them. The two hundred or so Alliance soldiers stayed gathered around the ship, not wanting to crowd their leaders.

Though even if they had, nobody would have noticed a damn thing. Terrin, Yuthian clutched tightly in his hand, stared with a completely unreadable look out of the opening, his eyes raking the sight.

Dark Horizon was upon them.

The army was massive, stretching from horizon to horizon, and reaching all the way back for miles, until the lines of soldiers disappeared into a fog. There were definitely more than one hundred thousand soldiers, here. They seemed to form one large phalanx of blackness, apart from the constant gleam of the guns they all clutched in their gloved hands, and the shine of the plated helms over their heads to conceal their gazes from all but the closest warrior. Many held what looked to be rocket launchers, though the most common weapon was a machine gun, or pistol. All of them had emergency blades at their sides, though none expected to use them. They were still several yards away from the first outer wall of the base, but that area was closing by the second. The relentless thump was the sound of each of the Dark Horizon Agents’ feet slamming onto the ground. They were in perfect formation…

And Terrin saw them. At first they were only flickers of light, but they quickly condensed and materialized as solid figures. A yellow-skinned man, and a purple-skinned man, striding forward with confident grins of triumph on their faces. In their hands, they clutched deadly looking sabers, and their clothing was that of a different world, hanging almost in tatters across their body. It was a truly terrible sight. As soon as Terrin and the Stars caught sight of the two epitomes of evil, their gazes instantly switched up to glare at them all gathered there in the hatch opening. For several moments, the two mortal enemies glared with pure, venomous hatred at each other, before Terrin turned and marched stiffly away from the opening. The army was the most daunting force he had ever clapped eyes with… not because of the numbers. He was quite familiar with those numbers, and what they might mean. It was the sight of Blaze and O’Mally leading them that disturbed him the most. The rest of the Stars, he knew, felt the same way, which was why they stayed at his side, not speaking a word. What was there to say?

“Get in, all of you,” ordered Pyre, tightening his jaw fiercely. All of the soldiers slid open the side panels of the black jet, and ducked inside. Terrin stopped at the opening, right after Blake and Miranda ducked into the ship. He turned to Courtney, who stood behind him.

There was clear and present fear etched in her features. He hugged her tightly, and kissed her. “Stay with me out there,” he whispered. “I’m not letting you go.”

OoC: Top file. Mood music.

Light filtered in from beneath the slowly rising stallcourt gate, illuminating fear on their sweaty faces. Enemy forces would be upon them all in moments. Letting them inside was out of the question. An explosion rocked the base, but it remained firm. Disquiet filled the room, and there was a shout of alarm from a ranking officer near the gate.

“What did he say?” queried someone nearby.

“He said it’s jammed.” Drake stalked past the soldier, expressionless as he called forth the darkness element and slammed it against the gate’s reinforced surface. It buckled but didn’t fall until Psyx thrust a feathered palm at it. The gate’s surrounding the air rippled and then collapsed. Dark Horizon troops screamed in terror as the massive structure fell back into its resting position with an ear-shattering sound and leaned outward dangerously.

Viscen’s voice rang out clearly over the din, though no one saw his face. “Attack!”

Shouts of war arose and as a flood the Alliance forces moved forward, pushing against the gate until it toppled over, flattening all enemy troops unfortunate enough to be too close. From another stallcourt whose gate had properly opened, more cries could be heard, but of pain. The Tears waited anxiously in the center of the garage behind an armored barricade, safe from sniper fire. Another order to attack would be given once Dark Horizon’s forces were preoccupied. For now, they could do nothing.

Rays of flame and lightning, torrents of water and laserfire, explosive shells, gunshots and deathcries; these were the sounds of modern warfare. Grim faces fought and died; countless fell where they stood. Soldiers and mages whittled away at the enemies, but their numbers were vast. From above, one might see their strategy. The Alliance collided head-on with Dark Horizon, slamming the opposing forces back from Base 17 with all their might. Their strength was greatest at the flanks so that they rounded off DH’s corners.

“Heavy artillery, mobilize!” This time Viscen’s words were more difficult to hear, but clear enough. Tanks mounted with plasma turrets buzzed to life and lifted into the air, roaring past the Tears and spilling into the light. Explosions lit the battlefield as their cannons rained behind the frontlines.

“They’re certainly having a time of hogging all the action,” muttered Hybrid, his voice barely audible over the turmoil outside.

Drake narrowed his eyes in irritation. Men are dropping like gnats and all he can think of is slitting throats. Sometimes it was hard to believe the creature was a Tear. Then again, I’m no better. He flexed his impatient, clawed fingers and listened intently to the sound of death.

“Ready, boys?” The general’s voice was softer, almost casual.

Drake cast a glance over his shoulder to see his officer standing close by. “My claws itch.”

“Good, then you won’t mind a little exercise. Let’s get out there and show them whose daddy is whose.” His grin dropped then as he looked the Tears over: Drake, Hybrid and Psyx were present. Blitz was down, Amy was in recuperation and Valerie was detained. “Where the hell are Ethan and Zeroun?”

***

This is it. The mage hefted himself up over a final stone and looked out over the charred remains of T’lemenehim. This, a crumbled section of the main tower, was the highest point he could reach. His vantage provided a picturesque view of the sun sinking below earth’s horizon, which reminded him of the time, albeit slowed. “I must act quickly if I am to join in the battle.”

As Ethan raised the Godmaker up to his eyes and looked upon its gleaming, golden runes, his heart skipped a beat. After so long, he would finally learn of his homeworld’s demise and the malevolent force that had banished he and his sister to planet Earth.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the Paradox, a wispy, intangible figure floated across the remains of T’lemenheim, somehow unaffected by the mage’s manipulation of time. Even had the mage laid eyes upon the space it occupied, he would not see so much as a vague outline.

Blitz had seen Ethan leave with the Godmaker, and as much as he hated to leave his wife’s side even for a moment, something had occurred to him. The ex-innate’s dead eyes passed curiously over the mystic scepter. No one knew the extent, or even the nature, of its power. Maybe there is some way…

Ethan was completely unaware of his comrade floating calmly beside him. His excitement rose as he closed his eyes and called upon the scepter’s hidden power; the power of the Eye long forgotten. Then, using his own innate abilities, he opened his otherworldly eyes. Images flitted across his vision, pictures from a past set in stone. His pulse quickened.

Blitz laid a hand upon the scepter, feeling his ethereal body flow inside and merge with it in the span of an instant. For a moment, he had control. Then everything went wrong.

The earth shook violently as a fierce gale tore through T’lemeneheim’s remains. Taken by surprise, Ethan braced himself against the force, nearly toppling from his perch. He tried to cut off his manipulation of the Godmaker, but for some reason beyond all the mage’s understanding, he could not. The flow of time split like a projector’s image shifting half-offscreen.

“What…?” was all Ethan had a chance to shout before he very suddenly disappeared.