"Still insisting on hiding your true power, trespasser?" The bald man clad in mechanical armor smiles coldly as he conjures another long, thin spike of glowing blue energy, crackling with lightning. "I can quite literally keep this up all day."

"And I... insist that I have no such power," I say. The pain is making forming the words somewhat of a struggle.

"Hmph," he scoffs. The lightning-shaped tattoos on his forehead flare for a moment, and the electrified blue spear drives itself through my abdomen. Blood gushes out, before being nigh-instantaneously vaporized by the electricity.

"Aaaargh!" The scream seems to automatically escape from my throat, through sheet instinct. I've experienced worse agony, far worse, but the body's autonomic functions do tend to go against my explicit wishes in situations of significant duress. Such as now. The eight or so other spears of lightning, already impaled into various parts of my body at various angles, still release electrical energies into my body at regular intervals. I've been trying to counteract them with electric magic of my own, but it appears that my current level of power is simply not enough.

It's been like this for about an hour now... since I'd stumbled upon the ruined temple that this man claimed to be his territory. Presumably believing me to be a soldier fighting for the side of magic in this conflict, he immediately assaulted my mind then, trying to extract all the information my mind could offer. And according to him, I was apparently the only being in existence who had ever managed to completely resist his telepathic assault. Such is one of the main weaknesses of my Gray Mantle, for no matter how much I limit my own power, I cannot allow this self-imposed limitation to make my mind vulnerable to others' psychic influence. And so this psionist, as he called himself, deduced that I must be far more powerful than I appeared, and proceeded to attack me with his spears of lightning in an attempt to force me to show my true strength. What little power I allowed myself to use was no match for him, and here I am, fixated onto a cross-shaped wall made from the man's mental force, by the aforementioned spears of lightning impaled through my hands and feet. Apparently this is a religious symbolism of some sort in this man's civilization. Intriguing as that may be, the pain is beginning to make it a little hard to care about such frivolities.

Almost subconsciously, I try once again to teleport away. But no, the paralytic power of this man's lightning is strong as ever. Try as I may, I cannot rip myself free of the psionic electricity, nor slip past it into hyperspace. Moving even a single muscle seems like an almost impossible task, and it's a tremendous effort to even speak.

Can I defeat this man even if I'm to use my full power...? Perhaps, but it will by no means be an easy fight; his power is one of the strongest I've seen in the past years. If he has allies possessing similar levels of power... Then the only reasonable course of action for me is going to be to flee, regardless of what strength I may have hidden.

"Come now, you're not going to be able to take much more of this," the man speaks with false concern, even though the unsettling glint in his eyes tell me that he must be positively enjoying this. "Not unless you unveil the power that you're keeping hidden for some reason I cannot fathom."

"H-Heh... You overestimate m-me..." I manage to squeeze out a humorless laugh.

"Obstinate fool," he mutters, contempt dripping from his voice. "You're pathetic. What good is power if you don't use it, hmm?"

"Ha...!" I can't help but to really laugh out loud this time, in response to the man's words, as portions of my mind briefly take a trip down some unpleasant memory lane. "If y-you only k-knew, child..."

His facial expression suddenly morphs into something much uglier. "It appears that you only hold strength in ineffectual insults," he says, with a sigh. "Such a shame. I had hoped that you would be more entertaining. You are not worthy of standing before we of the Mensa Brotherhood after all, lesser one."

Then he plunges his hand into my torso.

The pain is almost worse than anything else I've experienced in the past few decades. The man's fingers wrap around my heart, and squeeze, and send electrical currents through my whole body, and the pain is so intense that I can barely even hear my own screaming. Not even my mental magic can block much of it out. My throat soon catches, or perhaps I've choked on my own tongue. I don't know. All I know is pain. It somehow manages to get worse every second, as my heart is slowly crushed and electrocuted at the same time.

He's right. My body won't be able to take much more of this. It seems that I have no other choice...

Abruptly, the pain fades away, along with all of my other biological senses, as my body finally stops working. And for a split second, I feel the lock on my powers involuntarily unlock itself. But no, I am not going to stay and fight... Now that I'm finally strong enough to break free of the psionist's paralytic lightning, I allow the multicolored orb containing my soul to slip into hyperspace. The world appears to fade around me. From the psionist's point of view, it would appear exactly as though I had died, and my soul had passed on to the afterlife, leaving a corpse behind. He would never know the truth.

As reality fades back into focus, I now find myself back in the decrepit underground laboratory I mockingly call the Crystal Palace. Magic oozes forth from my scintillating core, solidifies into a viscous fluid that shapes itself into the form of a humanoid body, then transmutes itself into blood, flesh, bone, and various other biological tissues. Within seconds, my body is restored, while my soul and mana reservoir are not much the worse for wear. But I nevertheless feel exhausted, psychologically, and collapse onto the throne-shaped seat that I've made as an ironic reminder of my past as quite literally the worst monarch in history.

And I stay like that for quite a while.

Until I'm jolted back to awareness by the sound of rumbling stone. A moment later I feel a crushing pressure on my skull, then the rest of my body. And everything goes dark, because of the caved-in stones blocking out light or because of my brain being squished to paste, I'm not quite sure. And only then do I realize that my laboratory, in its aforementioned decrepitude, has chosen now to partially cave itself in. Perhaps I should've spent more time on the enchantments holding this place together... I briefly consider just going to sleep like this, buried under several tons of rock.

Wait. No.

The flower.

Frantically, magic surges forth from me, both moving the rocks aside and vaporizing them to make room for myself as I quite literally bolt up, as a stream of lightning and light, toward the section of this cave that I call a bedroom. Even upon seeing that the room is intact, I still look around in panic, releasing waves of psychic energy to sweep over every nook and cranny of the room.

Quickly, my sixth sense locates on the crystal flower acting as a crude lamp beside my bed. It's a delicate little thing, with leaves and stems of white jade, and pure, clear crystalline petals glowing with a soft and gentle white light from within. It appears safe and sound, unharmed by the tremors that tore through this place earlier.

I feel myself sigh in relief. This flower, this new lifeform that I've created and carefully nurtured over the past several years... It is the living proof that my powers can do more than simply harm and kill. Proof that I, too, can create something beautiful. If it had perished just now through nothing but my own negligence... What would it mean? Would it say that I am not meant to bring anything positive to this world after all?

Before I know it, I've already reinforced this room with enough magic for it to last through the next few years. Then I finally allow myself to collapse onto the bed. "Good night," I whisper.

In response, the flower's light dims, and its petals close, moving with a fluidity seemingly impossible for the rigid crystalline structure. But of course, the response is only what I have programmed into its DNA, not because of anything resembling free will I had given to my creation.

Otherwise, would it not have already turned against me long ago? Such is the nature of individuality...

My thoughts continue to wander in random directions as I drift off to sleep, a chaotic mess that makes little sense even to myself. Because if I were at peace with myself, would I even be here now? Perhaps I would have already passed on... Nevertheless, I am used to such a state now. As sleep begins to grip me, I open my mind to welcome the temporary respite from my own identity...

'Freeze!'
'Down on the ground, Tech freak!'
'Do it now!'
I do not believe my first incursion to planet Earth is going very well so far. First, I am surrounded by six human Magi, aiming a number of magical weapons in my direction. Second, the drop pod I entered Earth's atmosphere within only landed a few minutes ago. Overall, the response I have so far received is hostile in nature. I wonder if other drones were faced with similar circumstances.
Do I fight these Magi, Methuselah?
Fight, knock unconscious, but do not send for conversion. We do not currently possess the resources to maintain stasis upon them, and robots cannot maintain themselves on Earth as of current. Maintain similar orders against other hostile Magi until further notice.
Orders logged.
My currently-equipped Exoarmour is the EX-Specops. I do not currently possess an equipped weapon. That is easily changed. I drop into a roll, at the same time teleporting the non-lethal taser in my right hand; projectiles are launched at me, but I am more than capable of dodging them at the speed they are moving. Reaching the end of my roll to the left of one of my opponents, I stand, press the taser against his neck, and electrocute him until he falls to the ground. I dodge again, this time stepping out of the path of another set of projectiles, and materialise a sticky EMP grenade in my left hand, setting the detonation timer for three seconds. One of the Magi charges me with a longsword; in response, I summon my own longsword, channel plasma through it to produce a blade, and telekinetically manipulate it to slice the blade of her sword off at the lowest reasonable point on the blade. Her attempts to backpedal are counteracted by my telekinetically pushing her into my left hand, then pushing her with the same hand into two other Magi who happen to be too close to one another to be tactically responsible. By the time they recognise what has happened, I am several meters away, and the EMP grenade has less than half a second before detonation.
They do not escape the blast radius. It engulfs these three, paralysing them in much the same manner as my initial target, and catches one of the other Magi on its fringes, dropping him to one knee, with a channelled bolt of electricity finishing the job of rendering him unconscious. The last Magi's will to fight breaks, and he begins to run away from me. He is quite fast, but as it turns out, I am much faster. I slam into him from behind, knocking the breath out of his lungs, and send him toppling to the ground, where I am able to paralyse and knock him out in much the same manner as the previous groups members. Overall energy expenditure: inconsequential. With all opposition negated, I am free to perform my own activities again. I return the taser to the pocket space in my possession, then take the longsword in both hands-
Do not execute these men.
They will awaken shortly, and likely threaten our efforts again in the future.
They are not powerful enough to be threatening. You are fully aware of this, and of the fact that random execution is not our goal. Do not proceed.
I stop channeling plasma through the longsword, and teleport it back into the pocket space, returning to an idle position.
Addendum to prior order: Do not kill hostile parties that do not possess greater than 50% of your own power.
Current, or ongoing?
Ongoing. I will inform you if it is desirable to switch parameters to present current power at any point.
Orders logged. Proceed as prior to combat situation?
Yes.
I walk away from the scene of combat. I have other tasks to engage in.

The Sion of Hevren, the city also known by its olden name of Berlin, Johnathan Stelridge, burned with fervour atop the pulpit. His preaching was closing to its fevered conclusion, and the audience was rapt in its attention.

“That is why we born of magic must resist the cold incursion of those who call themselves servants of technology, for we know that to serve the fires of industry is naught but to accept enslavement by cold steel. That is the message this church seeks to pass to each and every-one of you, and soon, soon we will be strong enough to send back those who scarred this earth, whose legacy we still seek to heal to this very day, we will change them or we will tear them asunder.” Always the orator, he paused and allowed the applause to ring out, the assembled crowds burning with the fire only a true believer could stoke within the soul of a mortal. It was a satisfying sight.

“Thank you for listening my children, depart now and take this message to all those you meet, it is the Church of Remus that hears your pleas, together we are strong, we will fight the fires of industry and drive out those who defy God himself, good night.” As always the few individuals who had failed to seem properly engaged were picked up as they exited by some higher members of the brotherhood, either magically tracked or taken away for questioning. Infiltration was always a concern for the increasingly paranoid founder of the Church, Romus.

Johnathan walked away from the pulpit, his brown robes flapping around his ankles somewhat dramatically, his large form making its way through a few stragglers with benevolent care towards their wellbeing. The stern faced priest may not have looked quite the part with his rough exterior, but there was a genuine goodness in the Sion. He rubbed at his temple with meaty hands almost the moment he entered the privacy of his chambers at the back of the church. The tension left him slowly, but there was always that niggling doubt that sank somewhere deep beneath his subconscious, emanating a sharp but somehow subtle discomfort. Was all what it seemed?

The gym was built for the instructors to teach combat training, one of a few dozen, and while a few computer pads were strung along the walls there wasn't much to look at besides a high ceiling and about 50 yards of concrete floor. The terminals themselves were designed to activate advanced holograms that would ping students if they were hit and keep track of when and where they had slipped up. This could range from flying debris, mock-magical bolts, or laser charged guns - any scenario an instructor might think of to test and push their students. Even though these were military facilities, this type of training were for those that had long passed basic training (once referred to as boot camp) and were learning more advanced fighting techniques and within the last month, the amount of students only seemed to increase. After all, war might just be around the corner.

It had been far past the hours of instruction though, so when Sergeant McCoy saw the bright lights streaming into the hallway from the gym, it peaked his interest. The hallway itself was large enough to probably fit in a vehicle and still leave walking room, but no one else was here, giving the sergeant plenty of space. The man had been one of those 'pretty boy' mutants as some call them, retaining complete human form even after the transformation, though it gave him a clear advantage. He was strong and in fact often out-did the behemoths that would walk down the hall and make everyone move to the side, that and he had the ability to transform his body into a living metal that was far stronger than any manufactured steel. It was enough that his instructor - James Walton - often told him in private that he was one of the few to push his limits. Something McCoy felt immensely proud of.

So when he turned to the corner, he felt a tinge of unbelief as his eyes grew wide. Mr. Walton had been one of the fastest he had ever seen excluding perhaps Private Mitchell, but what he saw was something entirely different. In fact, he had trouble following the silhouette at all as it phased in and out through what must've been 30 holograms. He heard about the first instructor's class before and even got a small brief mention on his first day - that it was reserved for those with more than a few years of training under their belts. Ms. Ana Hunt was apparently someone on a completely different level than himself. McCoy slowly stepped away from the door and decided it was best to leave the woman be, wondering if the guys would even believe his story - probably not.

As the man left, Ana had decided that she had enough of the exercise. This part was almost the most fun though. She had set the holograms at such a high speed that usually shutting down the program in one try would result in one to three pings, but she always made it a personal goal to get no pings. So in the last moments, she had to flash over to a terminal, type in the starting commands and flash away before the holograms caught up. Ana repeated this until she finally saw the projections fade away and smirked to herself, looking at the computerize board that read the number zero. She was sweating a little, but nothing too extreme as she wiped the thin sheet from her forehead.

Her eyes wandered over to the doorway and let out a satisfied sigh, though it was masked with something sadder. This was the part of the day she hated most. Yes, she could go home and relax, play a few games, get caught up in some fantasy fiction ... but it was the comfortable places where she was reminded that she was alone. She had been forcefully distanced from her family, all her friends had long left her, and she had no one to love. Indeed, she hated this part of the day the most.

‘Heavenly Father, in the name of your only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, I denounce Satan and all his works,’

They just don’t understand.

‘all forms of witchcraft, the use of divination and the practice of sorcery.’

Some things can’t be worked out. Some things can’t coexist.

‘Lord God, I make this vow in solemnity,’

Some things are beyond politics and the will of man.

‘to be your blade, your shield, your angel of vengeance.’

This is why we take our vows.

‘I pledge my life and my soul to your service, and to your inquisition.’

☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨

The Archangel and various other Order ships sat in a security formation in Mars’ orbit. Smaller shuttle craft moved between the so-called “Inquisition” fleet, but for such an assembly of men and women so assured of violence, the fleet was calm.

The Knight Commander was standing arched over the table, staring down at the disassembled weapon. He picked up various pieces and ran a piece of white cloth over them. Each time he moved to clean another intrical mechanical piece, the cloth came up without a mark, or even a smidge dirt or carbon. Daryn hadn’t fired the weapon in days and even then he’d only fired simulation rounds on a training range. The cloth was always going to come up clean. But still Daryn continued to complete the job, it was apart of his daily routine, and he just wouldn’t feel right if he didn’t finish.

After he was finished cleaning, Daryn put the weapon together and placed it carefully back in it’s position on the wall rack above his bed. The bed, only just long enough that his feet didn’t hang off the end, was pushed into the corner, between the wall and cheaply made sheet metal desk. His quarters were not very large, but they contained enough room. A few feet from his bed was the latrine and a small kitchen area was nearer the door. They were better than what he got when he’d been in the military, so Daryn was grateful for what he got.

His wrist console buzzed, ‘Commander, the grandmaster has requested you in the CIC.’

Daryn looked at the scatter papers on the floor near his desk, and the mess he’d left on the kitchen counter. With he shrug he resolved to clean up later and left the room.

As he moved through the halls, men in newly purchased burgundy Order flight suits saluted and offered the day’s greeting. A measure not necessary or mandated, but done merely out of respect. Daryn returned the salute to most, but after a certain tedious amount of “Good mornings” he settled for a silent nod.

As he entered the CIC he was greeted with chaos, young men and women moved from place to place, performing all manner of tasks and jobs. At the helm of this chaos was the Grandmaster, who stood in the center of the room bent over a large holographic table that displayed the fleet’s position around Mars. He occasionally shouted something he needed and it was done. Daryn approached calmly, and with a swagger in his step and grin on his face that suggested he knew what this was all about.

“Commander O’Leary,” The Grandmaster said flatly without looking up from the table.

“You called, Sir.”

“Those stupid UFH politicians we spoke to haven’t moved shit along, and that bum of a president is just sitting on his ass while the Devil runs wild and free across Earth’s surface. It’s OUR home, and he’s done nothing to help us take it back.” He paused and looked up at the Knight Commander, who had his arms crossed, silently agreeing. “Pardon my language, but I’m fucking tired of waiting. I’m moving the fleet. We’re heading for Luna. We’re going to work on establishing a safety net around Earth’s moon. From there we’ll give our Federation reps one more chance to get UFH support.”

Daryn, nodded slowly, regarding the table where a map of the fleet’s flight path was plotted. “And if they say no, if it’s just us?”

The Grandmaster paused and looked back at the table’s holographic layout, it’s deep blue glow better illuminating the deep age and stress lines on his face. “The primary landing zone is in the Southern region of North America, on the Gulf Coast. You’ll take the lead.”

“Understood, Sir.”

It was a warm, cozy, and perfectly normal home kitchen. A brown-haired man in his early thirties was calmly chopping up some vegetables, clearly not expecting this to be anything more than an ordinary day.

But almost all feelings of normalcy were shattered when the creature oozed through the window.

It initially resembled a flowing stream of some viscous liquid, a clear translucent purple in color, with what appeared to be complex, faintly glowing patterns shifting in and out of existence within its depths. As the liquid pooled itself on the floor, it quickly extended itself up into the air, in defiance of all natural laws dictating how liquids ought to behave. At the same time, its overall shape changed, shifting and coalescing smoothly until it became a girl in her late teens. She was clad in a futuristic bodysuit, in the same shade of purple as the ooze that she had been seconds ago, decorated with the same glowing patterns the ooze had. Her figure was thin, and though her face could be described as very conventionally attractive, the utterly flat, emotionless expression she wore would only make a man uneasy.

And uneasy was indeed among the things the man felt, as he stared at the girl in shock. Even in a world where mutants and other superhuman beings were reasonably commonplace, seeing a pile of slime transform itself into what looked like a person was still by all means rather hard to swallow. He was evidently at a loss for words.

The girl did not bother with words either. "Eliminate any witnesses", her orders were.

And so she acted upon said orders. A strand of her waist-length hair, of a strange, unnatural metallic lavender color, morphed the last ten centimeters or so of its end into a sleek, slender blade. A blink of movements, and it was done. The man's head fell to the floor, separated from his neck, in a frighteningly clean cut that left no doubts whatsoever about his demise. Blood splattered onto the floor, the walls, the girl's body, and everywhere else.

"G-Garret?!"

The girl sensed the brown-skinned woman's presence long before she'd physically seen her, as the woman entered the kitchen and stared in horror at the decapitated corpse of the man whose name was presumably Garret. A quick scan showed the girl that yes, this woman was indeed Edith Blakeslee, the target that the girl was sent to kidnap. The woman likely had no clue herself, but her soul held strong potential, with which the girl's creators could use to empower cybernetics that transform the soul's owner into an augmented super soldier. The scan also showed an embryonic soul in the woman's belly, but that was of no concern to the girl.

A bolt of telepathic energy quickly rendered the woman unconscious, just as numerous strings of purple energy extended from the girl to wrap around the woman's body. Various pieces of machinery formed around the girl, and began gathering energy to generate a portal. In the meantime, the girl conjured more strands of telekinetic energy, to lift the head and headless body of the man she just murdered without a second thought; the whole corpse was then vaporized in an instant as the threads of purple energy turned into an intense red fire that swallowed the dead man whole. Another strand of the girl's hair transformed its end into a nozzle, and began spraying a faint green mist at the various bloodstained surfaces in the kitchen. Where the mist touched, the blood disappeared without a trace, along with the mist itself that soon faded away. In less than a minute, the whole room was clean again, as though no horrific slaughter ever took place there; even the smell of blood was completely erased.

And then the girl saw her own eyes, reflected in the stainless steel surface of the kitchen sink that had just been washed free of human blood. Those cold, empty, soulless violet eyes were a travesty against the human visage it only superficially resembled. As the girl looked into her own eyes, the numbness in her mind began to fade. Emotions washed over her, horror and disgust and anguish and a thousand other things that washed over her like a tidal wave. She collapsed to her knees, and tears began to fall.

Then the dream shattered.

---

I wake up with a gasp. For a second I wonder if I've been captured and turned back into a killing machine again and made to continue doing all those horrible things, and... And... And remind myself that I can still feel. My whole body's shivering, and drenched in cold sweat, even though the sweat is being absorbed by my bodysuit and broken down into more useful materials... A perfectly efficient weapon would never feel things like these. And so I must be still myself...

But the images still linger in my mind. The man's look of not quite understanding an instant before my blade cut into his neck, and separated his head from his body. The splattering of blood everywhere, blood redder than any psionic flames I can make. And then the look of utter horror on the woman's face, as she looked at the decapitated body of her husband... Then at me... Drenched in her husband's blood... And I... I... didn't even blink an eye, and just...

"Aaaagh!"

I clutch my head, and fold myself into a fetal position. Desperately begging for the memories to go away. But they won't... Thanks to my photographic memory, they won't ever...

Oi, I keep telling you, it's not our fault! I hear the other me grumbling with annoyance in my mind. The logic's not hard to work out, and you know it!

But it's not... a matter of logic... I mentally whisper to her. You know it too...

Uggghhh... She sighs. Yes, we both know... And you're going to keep feeling bad about it even though logically it's pointless.

If we didn't feel, then we... Wouldn't we be the same as when we were a weapon...?

Bullshit, the other me huffs. We're free now, and that's what matters.

To you, maybe...

Hey, you're kind of making me feel like a jerk now.

No, it's okay... I say as I wipe away some tears and shift to a more relaxed position on the bed. I... I can handle the guilt for us, while you... You have our strength. You can focus on what's important...

...yes, the other me sighs. Still, try not to get too bothered by it, alright?

I'll try, but...

We should probably go back to sleep. Maybe you'll feel better tomorrow?

Maybe...

Suddenly, our thoughts are interrupted by a violent shaking in the mechanical dome-shaped structure I've built as a tent. I instantly return to full alert, and activate the various cameras on the outer surface of the tent. Holographic images blink into existence around me, showing three humans wearing lightweight armor decorated with unfamiliar symbols. Fire and ice swirl around them, and... I can feel their hostility even from inside the tent.

"Crack the damn thing open!" One of the humans shouts.

"On it!" A second human shouts back. A yellowish orange fireball twice the size of his head, burning with a dangerous amount of energy, materializes between his outstretched hands, and he brings it smashing down against the outer shell of my tent. "Take this, you abomination!"

Shit! We gotta move! The other me hisses.

I nod. The fireball explodes, making another huge tremor, and significantly cracking the outer surface of the tent. The spall liners I've installed protect me from the fragments blown off from the inner layer of the armor by the explosion, but... At this rate the armor won't hold for long. Or even at all. My mind races for a second. These people... They must be the current native inhabitants of planet Earth. And they look like they belong to the group of people who aren't happy with the spacefaring humans' return... My first instinct is to reach some kind of truce and understanding with them, but with the amount of hatred they're emanating, I doubt that's possible...

Bleergh. I bet we can kick their asses if we use our full power, but... The other me begins to say.

But... You don't want to hurt them either, do you?

Who'd want to waste time and effort on trash like them?! She sighs. Ugh. I dunno, stun them for a bit and run?

Actually, I have a better idea...

I will my body to dissolve into liquid, a viscous silvery white fluid with flowing blue patterns within. Then I manipulate the structure of the liquid until it resembles normal, colorless water. As the fire mage slams another fireball into my tent, I mentally command the tent to open a small gap at the ground level, on the side opposite of the three hostile mages. Then I quickly cloak myself, and begin slipping my liquid body through the gap, hoping to escape without them noticing. Then they'll think it's been an empty tent all along...

But then my invisibility is torn through like a sheet of paper by one of the mages' abnormally powerful magical scan. "There it is!" He shouts, and sends a bolt of purple electricity arcing toward my exact location. The other two mages immediately follow suit, throwing fireballs and ice shards in my direction.

No... This won't do...! I need to get away...

I quickly return to human form, this time with a few plasma thrusters attached to my sides. I lift myself up to the air with telekinesis, and activate the thrusters, propelling myself away from the mages at supersonic speed and-

Watch out! The other me shouts.

I've sensed it too, and a really sharp last-minute swerve lets me barely avoid being hit by a fireball. But then an icicle pierces me straight in the stomach. Aaaagh! I want to cry out, but my training lets me stand unflinching against pain. The icicle feels horribly cold... But a shifting of my body quickly lets it fall away, and the wound repairs itself. I see the three mages flying toward me, propelled by their magic. The aura of hate around them almost makes me physically recoil.

"I... I don't want to hurt you..." I begin to plead to them. "Please... Can you just let me go? I promise I won't bother you ag-"

"We won't fall for your lies, abomination!" One of the three mages shouts, his face contorted in rage.

"In the name of Remus, we'll cleanse you from our world!" The second mage shouts.

No... Damn it... I quickly construct a couple of smoke bombs, and toss them toward the mages, each bomb exploding to release a pale green smoke that blocks both sight and magical senses. At the same time I cloak myself again, and activate my thrusters to fly off into a different direction.

"No! Don't let it get away!" The lightning mage screams. His unbelievably strong sensing ability once again cuts through all my attempts at stealth, and almost instantly pinpoints my location. And all of them are so fast... I can't outrun them!

Uggghh... The other me grumbles. I think now might be a good time to take off our power limiters, so we can outrun these bastards?

I consider it for a moment. But then an image flashes in my mind... An image where the three mages use their most powerful attacks against me at the same time, and I'm forced to use my full power to defend myself. In the mental image, a wave of electricity and psionic energy surges outward from me, ripping apart the magic attacks, and then the mana vessels in the mages' bodies, painfully ending their lives... I might be able to control the blast enough to not hurt the mages, but... I don't want to risk it! I don't want to risk their lives...

We're a few kilometers up in the air now, and the three mages are still tailing me as closely as ever. It's getting harder and harder to dodge their barrages of attacks... The fireballs aren't too bad, but the hailstorm of ice shards along with a literal web of lightning leave almost no blind spots. And every time I try to turn invisible, the lightning mage would always find me right away... So if I want to escape, I'll have to...

We aren't gonna get out of this if we don't fight back at least a little! The other me says. Come on, at least we won't kill them!

I... I guess we'll have to... I murmur. It hurts if I do this, it really does, but... We can't let ourselves die here. There's still so much of the world we want to see...!

I quickly synthesize a special chemical designed to incapacitate humans. It forms a thin, dark green needle, with an oily and plastic-like texture. The whole world slows down around me for a moment. My magical senses sweep over the three mages, analyzing their positions and movements... and quickly finds a weak spot. A blowgun-like tube forms out of my hair, with the needle inside, and quickly shoots the needle toward the needle toward the neck of the lightning mage, just as his neck becomes exposed for a fraction of a second. Before the mage even realizes what's going on, the needle pierces his skin, turning into liquid the instant it makes contact with human blood. He barely has the opportunity to gasp out in surprise before the drug takes effect, and loses consciousness.

Wait... We're a few kilometers up in midair! I...

I quickly swoop down to take hold of the unconscious lightning mage with purple strands of telekinetic energy, just as he begins to fall. And this sends the other two mages into a murderous rage. "What did you do to him, monster?!" One of them screams. "Let him go!" And they redouble their efforts in bombarding me with magic, anger clouding their minds and clearly making them not realize the possibility of catching their friend in the crossfire.

I... I have to get this mage to safety.

A barrier of purple energy forms around me, because I can no longer afford to just dodge attacks. And cracks almost immediately begin to form on the shield's surface, as it comes under assault by the remaining two mages' fireballs and icicles. I grit my teeth and force myself to concentrate. The lightning mage could fly at supersonic speeds, so I assume he has ways of surviving those levels of acceleration. But I'm not sure if he can do that while unconscious... I could encase him in a hard shell filled foam, and drop the shell to the ground, but can I guarantee the foam will absorb enough of the shock to let him survive...? And I guess I could also toss him at the other two mages, but can I really count on them to catch him? What if they're so focused on trying to destroy me that they'll ignore their comrade...? Aaaagh...

Wait... Here's an idea. I let my body dissolve into nanite fluid again, and coat it all over the unconscious lightning mage's whole body, then transform myself into a suit of cybernetic powered armor. This... should let him survive the acceleration. So now I just need to-

"You... How dare you defile Jeremy with your technological blasphemy!" The fire mage lets out a snarl that makes his words barely recognizable. "Death won't be enough for you!" Dozens upon dozens of fireballs materialize around him, each blazing with a terrible rage. The ice mage doesn't say a word, but also conjures numerous icicles floating around him; the icy-cold hatred in his eyes make him seem almost inhuman.

Are those retards insane?! The other me sputters. I mean, what the hell, they'll kill their buddy too!

I... think they might've never been sane to begin with...

Thrusters appear on the back and feet of my armor form, and I activate them with maximum power to propel the lightning mage and I toward the ground, while making sure that the inertial dampeners inside the armor protect the mage from the immense acceleration. The slew of fire and ice comes raining down on me almost immediately. I steel my will and conjure another telekinetic barrier around me, but that too quickly cracks under the two mages' relentless onslaught. Icicles begin to pierce through the shield, then fireballs. Even though I've turned off my ability to feel physical pain, my body is beginning to take so much damage that I'm feeling a phantom pain anyways... And the armor is starting to crack... But no, I must... not let this person die...

Come on, turn off the power limiters! Just for defense? Please? The other me asks.

Another image flashes in my mind. In the imagined scenario, the lightning mage that my armor form is encased around suddenly wakes up, and starts attacking me from within. And by reflex, I flood the insides of my armor form with plasma, protecting me from the attack but vaporizing the mage... No, I... I can't! What if I...

Finally, the ground is rushing up to meet us. For a moment, the whole world seems to shake as we slam into the ground, creating a huge crater. But at least the lightning mage is safe... And with him knocked out, I can finally escape without being noticed... Once again, I throw up a few smoke bombs, turn myself into liquid, cloak myself, and begin to slip away to-

The last salvo of fireballs and icicles strike against right where I landed seconds ago, into the cloud of green smoke. And without my armor form to protect the unconscious lightning mage... When the smoke clears, all I can see is a corpse charred and impaled in so many places that its former identity is completely unrecognizable anymore.

For a moment, we all stare at the dead body in horror.

After what feels like an eternity... Floating a few meters in midair, the ice mage finally turns his gaze toward me. And it almost chills me to the bone. "You... made us kill our comrade, monster," he whispers. "Even if you escape today... We'll find you. And when we do, you'll wish you never existed."

"No, I..."

Words are useless. What can I possibly say that'd do anything other than just making things worse...? I...

I detonate a few more smoke bombs, concealing my liquid form from view. And I silently slip away. I keep flowing in one direction for what seems like hours... When I return to human form, I see a ray of golden sunlight slowly creeping up from the eastern horizon. Even though it's a beautiful sight, I... I'm in no mood to enjoy it.

All I want to do is to cry.

I have reached a city at last. According to archives, it was once called Berlin; recent information gathering has revealed minor name changes, but for efficiency, it will continue to be referred to as Berlin unless Magi are in the vicinity. My examination of the outer section of the city, its appearance far removed from original archives, has not revealed any specific resistance, though civilians either stare at me or move indoors as I pass. I am vigilant, as always, for any sudden attacks, as these are more likely than might be expected in such a setting - according to information from prior scouting missions, a violently anti-Tech faction known as the Church of Remus possesses a major sect in this city, the headquarters of which I have been tasked with discovering after basic drones were intercepted on previous such missions. I assume the Magi that attacked me several miles previously were members of this sect. My assumption is given credence as a number of Magi, in the same clothing as those that targeted me previously, enter the area, notice me, and call for my halt. I do so, largely since they do not pose any threat to me judging by the power I can detect from them.
'Sooo,' one of them states in- I believe the term is "drawl", but I cannot confirm this due to the language used, and my interpretation of the literal meaning of his words via sixth sense- 'looks like we got ourselves a Tech-freak.' This was directed at his companions; his next sentence, uttered as he walks toward me with some sort of self-assured gait, is stated in Universal English, shorthand "Univeng", a common Tech-side language: 'Your kind aren't welcome here. I suggest you get out of here before we turn you to scrap metal, or whatever crazy substance you're made of. Probably [untranslatable; closest synonym "slime"] under that armour, am I right?' The last words are in the Magi language from before, directed back at the Magi group, and accompanied by laughter from most of them.
'No.'
My speech, transmitted directly to their minds as a consequence of my use of sixth sense, apparently comes as a surprise to the Magi. This is often the case when somebody is not used to the sixth sense's communication functionality, according to archives. The lead Magi quickly recovers, however, and asks '"No" what? I asked two questions, idiot.'
'No to both questions. Clarification: I refuse to leave, having been set a task within this city; my bodily composition does not contain biofilm, mucus, or other related substances.'
'Bio...? Whatever. If you aren't leaving, then you're coming with us, Tech-freak.'
The lead Magi tells one of his subordinates to return to "HQ"- presumably an acronym for headquarters- and inform them of a new prisoner to be interred shortly, the subordinate teleporting away. It occurs to me, as I feel some form of telekinetic force surround my body, that I am most likely the prisoner the Magi spoke of. Presumably, I would be escorted to their headquarters through that method, unless they have foreseen my current goal; however, the subordinate that teleported away has left a very noticable trail through hyperspace, up to a point where it suddenly cuts off- this is presumably some form of shielding within or close to the headquarters to prevent intruders teleporting in- and it is therefore a more suitable option to follow that trail. The fastest method of doing this will be to negate the threat the Magi group poses, and then teleport as far as possible along the hyperspace trail.
The leader's magic is very weak relative to my psionics, and easily subverted to my control; once this happens, I channel electricity down the connection and into his body, electrocuting him and forcing him to drop to his knees as he attempts to scream.
'What gave you the impression that I would accept imprisonment?'
A telekinetic shockwave finishes the job of knocking the most powerful entity in the vicinity unconscious. The rest- seven attackers in total- attempt to shoot at me, but their projectiles are slow, and easily dodged. It is also helpful, as it was with the previous Magi group, that within my data stores is information on a martial art known as "gun kata" - derived from descriptions within archived cinematography created several years before the scientific elite left Earth two hundred years ago, specifically two films referred to as "Equilibrium" and "Ultraviolet", it is designed to establish, through probabilistic determination based on size and current position of a group of opponents, what path targeted projectiles are most likely to take and the most likely position of each opponent within the group over short periods of time. If I so desired, I could likely deactivate my sixth sense entirely, and be able to eliminate this group without notably greater issue unless one of them has prior knowledge of gun kata or utilises short-distance teleportation frequently in combat, though considering my lack of, paraphrase, "muscle memory" in any martial art, I believe it would be more efficient to maintain my sixth sense until I have greater ingrained skill in the art. Similarly for any other martial arts I practice.
I dodge the variegated projectiles launched at me, evidently, then summon both assault rifles inherent to the EX-Specops Exoarmour and begin to fire at the group even as I continue to dodge, propelling rounds of electric energy at each opponent until they fall unconscious as a result of magical damage and paralysation. When the group falls to two, one of their number again loses the will to continue the fight, and begins the process of teleporting away in much the same manner as the other Magi that recently teleported off. I allow him to escape, focusing fire on the other Magi to give him time to escape, then trace his hyperspace trail after the last opponent falls to see if it leads to the same location as the other.
This is not the case. The first trail, as I discover after teleporting to its destination and back, leads to a shielded building with no obvious relevance, with another trail leading out of it. By contrast, the hyperspace trail made by the panicked soldier leads me to the outside of a large religious building, decorated in what I am led to believe is considered an "ostentatious" manner by some. This is assuredly the location I have been sent to establish the location of. It will not take long to transfer that information to Methuselah's archives, and then I can proceed with a new mission. Perhaps discovering the location of other sect headquarters of the Church of Remus. I imagine they will present a proportionately larger threat over time than I have so far been presented with.

[And there's your cue, @MelonHead.]

“So, one of those who burned our earth to cinders long ago came upon our fair city and you proceeded to attempt to stop it?” Johnathan shook his head sadly, not bothering to berate the scared young acolyte for his fool-hardy action. How could he blame them for their response, these were the same creatures that had happily destroyed all life on this planet and fled leaving only ruin. It was not they of Earth who wandered around the Tech-faction’s home, spreading their own culture, though the Magi certainly had a more reasonable history to condone such action. No, but wherever these creatures of foul metal go they spread uncontrollable fear, and then act with such self-righteous indignation when they are attacked? It baffled Johnathan that anything humanoid could be so callous, so cruel, but then, he was just a humble Magi. He would never commit the atrocities of those born of steel.

“Well, I suppose I should protect the flock.” He said finally, lifting his bulk from his chair with a sigh, his eyes sad beneath his stern brow. There was a serious altercation at hand, and apparently another of the Tech spies was incapable of hiding themselves from even the most basic magi, perhaps taking some morbid satisfaction in defeating the equivalent of children in the streets. It was becoming all the more common by his reports, unsettling even.

“Get some rest my child.” Johnathan said finally, leaving the room and entering the church-proper, the Book of Remus appearing in his right hand as if by magic.

“He who follows the light…” his incantation continued for some time as he walked towards the heavy wooden double doors, a few acolytes looking up at their Sion as powerful waves of magic emanated from him, seeking out the one he suspected would follow his panicking acolyte.

As he threw wide the doors with a flick of his hand he stared out into the open street, his eyes steely.

“Wicked one, return to your iron-prison and lament the loss of this green earth, for your people forsook the right to walk here when you burned this world to ash and fled leaving those you deemed lesser than you to die.” Johnathan called out, a clear warning to the Tech-faction’s pawn.