-----USC Leviathan----- 5 minutes after time warp

A man stood in the bathroom of his cabin, staring into the mirror blankly as if in deep contemplation. Something was amiss, he looked older than he remembered, a scar he knew he didn't have ran down the length of his face. Yet it was right there, staring him in the face. How long had it been? The longer he focused, the harder he tried to remember, the more elusive it got. Though there was something, something important he felt he needed to remember what was it?

It wasn't until he looked down and noticed the arm that wasn't his own that a tidal wave of information slammed into his weary mind. At first it was flashes, impressions. Death, despair, a looming threat. Then the images were made more clear, the faces of dead Archons, leering at him as they were reanimated and sent against him, a final, desperate gambit. Reawakening here and continuing a downward spiral once more.

Do you know who you are? a voice not his own asked in his mind, a voice he knew in another lifetime
Memory of his identity trickled in
I am Marcus, Marcus Skylark
Do you know why you are here?
We failed, again
Very good, time travel can lead to all sorts of problems. Wouldn't want you going mad now would we?

Arcturus, the voice's name was Arcturus. He remembered now, faster than the first time. He briskly turned and strode out of the cabin. His footfalls echoed down the halls of the empty ship he called home. Names, data, coordinates filled his mind as he pulled on his duster. The doors slid open and silence greeted him. It was as if the ship was dead in space, only back up lights were on.

With almost a second thought he keyed the main generator to power up. Almost immediately the lights flickered on and the faint whine of systems booting up filled the silence. the deckplate underneath the soles of his boots rumbled as the engines roared to life, agitating the sockets in his pelvis, reminding him of his artificial legs. Pushing the thoughts aside he took a seat in the command chair, and keyed in a 12 digit code that drifted in his mind, coordinates of a dimension.

A faint sound, the antimatter drive powering up, and then before him on the main screen a broad white vertical line appeared in the void, splitting itself open enough for the Leviathan through, pushing the main thrusters to full he powered her through. The rift closing neatly once he was through.

A new system, a new team, and a new chance at revenge

As the saying goes, third time's the charm

Most people believed that the top of Tetradyne Towers was abandoned. Governmental bureaucracy mixed with corporate bribery and kickbacks from the city's underbelly had seen to that. What was once supposed to be the top of one of the finest apartment towers in the city has been left abandoned and forgotten by all but the savviest of criminals.

The perfect place for the finest thief in Neo-Seattle to hide.

Inside of what should have been an abandoned upper level of a skyscraper was a clearly lived in apartment. That being said, it certainly didn't look very standard. It seemed to border between some recently "acquired" room for a squatter, and a museum of various jewels and devices. On what little could be considered walls, jewelry of various appearance and rarity hung from various hooks. A number of tables littered the room, with strange, half-finished inventions littering the space.

In the center of this odd mess was a man. He was dressed in what would pass in this part of town as nice clothes that were worn with wear and tear. A pair of safety goggles covered his eyes as he worked on a strange glider contraption. Removing his goggles to reveal his blue eyes, he looked over his work with pride. Another job, another successful flight. The old girl had yet to let him down.

The man, who was known as Derek, walked over to a nearby table. On it rested his latest "acquisition"; a necklace with a bright red ruby nearly the size of his eye. Derek bounced it on his palm a few times, and got a closer look. It was his habit to ensure that his catches were the real deal before delivery. It wouldn't do well to give a customer shoddy service. Certain that it was the real deal, Derek pocketed the necklace and sent a message to Myles, his personal fence, through a private message terminal he had set up.

"Goods secure. Ready for delivery at signal"

With that, Derek plopped down on his couch, and watched the sunrise through the opening in his wall. Today was going to be another excellent day to make a profit.

Ignore

In the room of what seemed to be an empty building, light footsteps were heard. It was late in the evening and no one was inside but a lone figure, who looked to be searching for something frantically.

"Damn it, I can't find anything. In fact, there's nothing here!" A female voice mutters in frustration as she paces around the room. "Not here." She says after flipping over one file she had found on a table that was at the center of the room."Not here either." She adds exasperatedly bfore she concludes that her first statement was true and she was simply wasting her time, yet once again. It certainly wasn't the first time she would go home empty handed.

"I don't get it." She states confused,"I was so sure this time."

The female felt as if what she was doing was impossible. Everything she's done has constantly ended up in failure. No matter how close she felt to her goal, the farther it actually was. It was literally starting to feel like a wild goose chase. Exhausted, both physically and mentally, she stalks out of the room shoulders slumped. Her eyes wandering around the floor that had papers scattered all over it. Whether it was fate's doing or just pure luck, her foot got stuck on one file that she overlooked. On the uppermost corner read," Nicole D'Lacrue."

With just those two words the female grinned,"Why hello me, I was right after all," she says before scoffing at herself,"when was I ever wrong?"

Was what she had said before her grin had transformed into a smirk as she took a hold of the file. The topmost part of it had her name and after flipping the front cover, she had almost dropped the file right then and there. Inside was a picture of her and her father while she was still young. She felt a strong surge of loathing, someone had been spying on her family years ago. Way too long, as if someone had been waiting when her father got comfortable. She had initially thought that her father just played a trick on the wrong person during business. Now she knew that this went deeper than that.

The running never stops. Moving from the woodlands to the sacred grounds wasn't enough for Scout to get away from the constant chasing. His peaceful slumber on the golden streets was interrupted the sound of gunshots.

"Aww, I was having such a nice dream..." Scout said to himself. The gunshots came from the police. Scout already knew of all the places they would try to ambush, he's been dealing with the police for 4 years now.

Scout ran through the city. A food cart selling something that smelled like the food of the gods to Scout blocked his path. Scout started to push it while simultaneously scarfing down everything edible on the cart. Scout then crashed into a fence, he quickly started to climb it but got his shirt stuck on the top of it. The police were getting really close. He had to rip off his shirt, which was the only one he had, and continued to run.

A very well decorated wagon had its door open. It looked pretty empty so Scout jumped in and slammed the door shut Finally he was safe. The driver asked where Scout had wanted to go not looking through the window to see who was in the wagon. Scout assumed the wagon belonged to a girl since it was so pink and flowery. Before he could try his best girl impression he was interrupted by an actual girls voice.

"Just a moment William... I don't want to leave quiet yet... Who the hell are you?!"
"Oh sorry miss, I'm um... uh..."
"If this is some pathetic attempt to sleep with me then you should be ashamed! I don't care how beautiful I am, have some self control!"
"No it's nothing like that miss I'm-"
"Just because you have a handsome face and a nice body doesn't mean you can just barge in here naked!"
"I'm not even naked miss. I just need a ride."
"Why don't you just use your own wagon."
"I'm... From the woodlands." Scout scolded himself. No way was she going to let him get away. All humans saw the people in the woodlands as pigs.
"Oh... That would explain your height... Where are your horns?"
"I'm a half bred. I have the height and brains of a Faery but everything else is human."
"...You poor thing, where is it you need a ride to?"

-----[Planet: Neodomus] [Location: Jaspae’s Capital Castle]----- 5 minutes after time warp

As two points in time collided together, reality split apart. A violent, yet imperceptible, cosmic ripple expanded from the epicenter and reached into dimensions beyond. The resulting reverberations tore through the air like a lightning bolt, causing a cacophony to ensue as the echo bounced off the lofty halls of the marble castle. A woman dressed in a light, flowing gown glided along the bright sunlit corridor, oblivious to the noise, yet highly aware that something was not right. She slowed her pace, and she looked around her in confusion. She could not recall how she got there or where she was going; it felt as though she had appeared all at once –just poofed into existence. Even more disturbingly, she couldn’t recall who she was. Her mouth hung agape as she warily circled around the immense hallway. A few terrifying moments of confusion passed before her memories came slamming back into realization.

Maya crumpled to her knees. Swirling images of blood, tortured faces, and carnage infiltrated her mind. Just mere moments ago, she had been aboard the Leviathan. The nightmare was fragmented, but she recalled seeing her fellow Archons dying right in front of her. One by one, the light left their eyes. Then, as if by some twisted joke, the deceased were brought back as undead warriors and turned against those remaining of their own. The Archons had failed, and in the final waning moments of battle Maya faced the inevitability of oblivion. Soaked in viscera, only some of which was hers, Maya crawled across the crimson-coated floor of the ship while death played at her heels. Her vision slowly faded to black. The last thing she remembered was reaching towards her dearly beloved –Paul, the Archon of Time.

A guttural scream flowed from her lungs and collapsed into ragged sobs. Her whole body shook. The memories, in tandem with the physical exhaustion from the time jump, cracked her morale. She pounded her fist on the smooth marble floor of the castle she grew up in. She was alive, sure. But her friends were either dead or lost.

“No, no, no,” she moaned as she doubled over on her side. Realizing what Paul had done, she clutched her sides as a wave of nausea overcame her. Even for a seasoned Archon, the extent of power that Paul would have had to exert in order to send her back a few months in time was critically dangerous. She was in hysterics. I have to know that he is alive and okay. A time warp of that magnitude…I wouldn’t be surprised if his brain turned into mush or exploded altogether. I have to find him.

Maya must have screamed again because a royal guard came charging around the corner. His heavy armor clanged obnoxiously with each rapid footstep. Concern donned his brow. His mouth shouted words. They didn’t make sense. Maya stared at him. His mouth kept moving. She looked at the floor.

“No, I am fine,” she replied solemnly, “Leave and tell no one of this.” The guard contemplated for a second before obediently leaving her alone.

Maya, get up off the floor. You can’t do this here. A familiar voice warned her.

Yes, Andromeda, Maya acknowledged.

As much as the distressed Water Archon wanted to lie on the floor forever, she knew that Andromeda was right. She was back on her home planet in the castle that she grew up in. Following the untimely death of her parents, she was bequeathed the throne. One might think that this would be a safe place for her; however, a malicious group of rich aristocrats, known as the Council of Nobles, was after her head and crown. If history was going to repeat itself, she only had a few days before the Nobles would try to discreetly assassinate her. She shuddered as she recalled being tied to an anchor and dropped into the watery depths.

I have to get off of this planet. Immediately.Maya thought as she climbed to her feet and headed towards her private quarters. Determined to reunite with her fellow Archons, she wiped away the tears and held her chin high. It was time to start round two.

-----[Planet: Aeneanastor] [Location: Downtown Docks]----- 30 minutes after time warp

The dripping of blood woke Paul from his deep slumber. As his bloodshot eyes opened up, his senses started to return to him. The numbness on his face began to fade, and he was repulsed by the cold stone ground beneath him. His entire body was sore, but Paul managed to get himself up off of the ground and out of the pool of his own blood. His nose was still dripping, though oddly Paul could not remember the cause. There was a lot that Paul couldn't remember, actually, but whatever he was forgetting, he knew it was very important. But what was it?
Paul started to walk. A bit of a challenge at first, since his legs were weak, but he managed to limp over to the edge of the docks, right above the water.
Strange, Paul thought, confused. Isn't my ship supposed to be here? And why am I so bloody?
Paul's knees gave out from under him, and he fell down to look at the murky water below.
He stared for the longest time at his war-torn reflection. He looked so much older, with scars cracking along his face, and blood splattered over his entire body. As he moved his hand along one of the scars, his memories flooded back to his mind.
His heart was immediately heavy with sorrow and loss. All of his friends, people that he had fought side-by-side with, were slaughtered mercilessly in a surprise attack. Their bodies were defiled and used as another tool to bring about the end of the Archons, a tactic which could only be done by beings of pure evil. Tears began to flow down Paul's face, a feeling unfamiliar to him. The tears intermingled with the blood dripping from his nose and mouth, an effect of the time warp that he was forced to initiate. Taking a few minutes to calm himself, Paul replaced his sorrow with a thirst for revenge.
Paul stood up, quickly now, reinvigorated by the new possibility he had made not only for himself, but for his closest companion, Marcus and his lover, Maya. As the presence of his spirit guide, Corvus, returned to him, they both agreed that they couldn't let his friend's sacrifice be in vain. The survivors would carry on their legacy, not scattering the memory of them to the heartless void but instead using that memory to fuel the passion of vengeance. Paul's hands tightened into fists as he looked out into the sky beyond. It was time to end this.

Even as the ship moved into orbit around the planet he felt the presence of another Archon on, Marcus felt vigor in his body return to him. His one remaining arm stretched taut as the muscles woke up. He could feel the finger tips on his other arm, and briefly looked down to it expecting to see flesh and bone, instead of metal and circuitry. Reality greeted him, the phantom pain bothered him, it could prove to be a liability in combat.

He'd burn that bridge when he came to it, for now there was the matter of reassembling the team, and for that he needed to get the two that came back with him as soon as possible. He knew full well what happened when you slapped time in the face. He figured that he could just open a rift to where the Archon was, but the place they were located could have changed in some way, and using your perception to go to a place that did not exist had obvious results. So he rationalized as he clambered into a drop pod.

The Leviathan hadn't changed, so he could open a rift back, but if this played out anything like it had last time, he would prefer to get in and get out effective immediately. Time was never on his side, and if his experience was anything to go on there were two more of that.... thing that had haunted him. He'd made the mistake of moving too slowly last time, and it cost him dearly.

The pod screamed through the atmosphere, burning a bright orange and lighting up the night sky. Tactical readouts on the view screen lit up with information on the database, planet Aenaestor.

Corvus is here, I can feel him Arcturus's voice once again filled the void of his mind.

Marcus didn't reply, just simply altered his course to hit near where he remembered his comrade's living place was. The air around the pod screamed as it slammed into the ground, the breaching bolts on the front exploded and he leaped out onto the ground. Before he began to head in Paul's direction, he stopped. Something wasn't right

As if on cue, a thick mist settled in the area, and several wet thumps could be heard, almost as if something had fallen off a building. His vision obscured, Marcus turned to other senses as he drew Raiden from the sheath on his back. He couldn't see what it was, but he could feel something moving in the mist, appearing then disappearing.

Then he saw a figure standing in the distance, humanoid, sort of drooped down with its arms hanging limp at its sides, twin piercing blue lights where its eyes were.

That's new

Evidently it noticed him and proceeded to disappear in a flash, his other senses told him it appeared closer to the left, and he whirled out of the way of an incoming bladed weapon, the perpetrator disappeared in a flash, reappearing in another location shortly. Another flash and Marcus ducked an incoming machete, and retaliated by thrusting Raiden straight into the attacker's chest, it stumbled down to its knees. Right as he pulled the blade out and prepared to decapitate it, another set of blue lights loomed and he parried an incoming weapon. He looked down to the hostile he wounded and found nothing.

I would recommend finding the Archon of Time and then getting out of here as quickly as possible Arcturus quipped

Noted he responded as he started moving forward, noticing more shapes in the mist. He began to sprint towards where Paul was located

The underworld of Neo-Seattle has some very strange holdouts. While the humdrum, typical street crime favors back allies and abandoned warehouses of the "historic" district, the top tier criminals can often be found in the same places as mega-rich and powerful. Cafe Thernardie is just one of these places. Here, mob bosses, CEOs, and the criminal elite gathered to discuss business and pleasure. To Derek, it was just another meeting place.

While Derek didn't often enjoy wearing it, he did have a suit that could be prepared for more public dealings. It restricted his movement, limited his gear, and didn't allow for his ever-present glider pack, but it kept him incognito. With nary but a single pistol hidden in his jacket, Derek strode into the restaurant where Myles was waiting for him. Taking a seat at a little table in the corner, Derek joined his friend and business partner.

"Derek, my friend!" Myles cried out in delight. "Punctual as always, I see. Although, I must say you always look impressive in that suit."
"You can try all you like, but I won't wear it unless I have to," Derek quipped in response. "Anyway, that isn't why I'm here. First, I'm here for business. Second, I believe I was promised lunch."
"Yes, yes. Your usual is on its way," Myles responded. "Now then, about your catch..."

Derek stuck a hand into his jacket pocket, and casually slid the necklace over. Myles covertly cupped it in his hands, and gazed at it in all. "The Madreka necklace," Derek commented. "I did my homework. The gemstone in the housing was cut from a perfect ruby, the necklace itself crafted by the greatest artisans on the planet, and housed in one of the most secure vaults in the city. Or rather, was, as you can see."

Grinning ear to ear, Myles pocketed the masterpiece. "I don't know why I'm surprised by your successes. You haven't let me down, yet. The funds will be sent to your account immediately. Now then, I know you don't discuss business while eating, but I have another job for you."
Derek raised an eyebrow. "If its Ares Macrotech again, you know my answer. I don't do jobs for megacorps. No matter how well they pay."
Myles shook his head. "No, not quite. I guarantee you will be impressed. It's quite sensitive, though, so I sent it through the terminal. Read it on your own time. Now then, I believe our lunch is here."

After about another half hour, Derek strode into an alleyway about two blocks away from the restaurant. Stashed within a hidden cache was his standard gear and his glider pack. It didn't matter what he was doing. Derek always made sure his gear was on hand.

Where am I... no.. what* am I..

A thought permeates the black

Orange hair flashes in the darkness of the Void,limp across a white surface where a face should've been.

A new utterance pulses through the dimensions... A soft, clean, ambitious utterance...

but not with lack of pain.

This calling deep inside me... this power. I feel... a symphony of pain and love, an epic of combat and camaraderie. Could this be a lost memory of mine... I can't remember. Visions of the future.... or perhaps I'm so desperate for an identity, I'm finally inheriting the hopes and desires of others..

The boy fights for consciousness, to grasp this fleeting identity within him. His chest burns.. it always has. And yet.. he has nothing

why should he even try at all, for something he can't even identify..

... Hello?... t-this is stupid am I really becoming this lame?! ...... .. am I alone?

Paul could feel Marcus' presence strengthen as he drew closer to the planet. Almost in sync, a very heavy mist overtook the small town, causing everyone to immediately retreat within their respective homes. Paul caught a shaggy middle-aged man by the arm as he was moving.
"What's happening?" Paul interrogated as the man struggled to get away.
The man's eyes opened wide in recognition, his lips slightly opened in shock.
"Captain Hetfield..?" the man muttered.
Paul slowly relaxed his grip as he recognized his former first mate, Barnaby. The man had clearly been changed, as his face was worn and torn with stress, nothing like the young and adventurous face he had remembered before his time with Marcus. Then again, Paul looked nothing like his former self either.
It seems that your adventures back in time must've altered this Paul's reality.
The two men embraced briefly, but it was clear time was of the essence.
"I can't believe you're back, cap'n! I thought that those invaders from above had taken you away?"
"What're you talking about?"
"Don't you remember..? Those men in black came down, set the ship ablaze and took you away with them. Everyone else was slaughtered, but I managed to get away."
It seems Ragnarok must've got to this Paul first. Let's hope we don't get another Doppelgänger situation.I fear that may be the case, Corvus. We'll have to be extra careful.
Barnaby seemed like he was about to say something, but his eyes widened once again as he looked into the mist beyond. Barnaby began to back up, clearly horrified by whatever was in that mist.
"C'mon cap'n! Let's get out of here!" Barnaby screamed.
Paul could see four figures in the distance. Their bodies were drooping as they walked, yet their eyes glowed a brilliant green. There was another, fifth figure running away from these four spooky fellows, and Paul instantly recognized who it was. Despite Barnaby's protests, Paul ran headfirst into the mist.

A sigh escaped Nicole's lips as her brows furrowed in confusion.

What. The. Hell.

The folder she picked up wasn't only incomplete, it was utterly useless. For some reason, whoever had once stayed in the room she was in was hired to keep them safe. If that was so, why had her father not said a thing? Not that she knew who hired them, but it seemed more logical if her father had done it. Most importantly, why was the date for the protection to stop, the exact day when her father was murdered?

Everything felt off, from the moment her father was murdered, to the point when she had begun her investigation. There was no connection whatsoever, like someone was tying up loose ends. It was sending a chill up her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck had begun to stand, and she felt goosebumps form around her arms. Something was very wrong, anyone could see that, but this just felt different. As if it was warning her that she should stop poking her nose in places she shouldn't.

She flipped the pages again to make sure she didn't miss anything, yet nothing seemed to soothe her. Nothing made sense. This was the first actual lead she got and it simply left more questions, than it gave answers.

What was going on?

Who were they?

Why them?

Why her father? Why? Why? Why?!

In frustration, she slammed the folder on the table. She gritted her teeth and spat out distastefully, "Nothing. Just like always, nothing," she mutters to herself,"it doesn't matter, I'll find him. I'll find whoever killed you dad. I promise."

Scout was shocked that this girl was showing sympathy. The people in the sacred land are taught to hate those who live in the Woodlands. They even capture them and turn them into slaves. This girl actually seemed to respect him.
"My name is Mariana White IV, but call me Mary please. And your name?"
"Scout Payne."
"What made you leave your home? Surely you're aware of how we treat your kind." She said with a bit of sadness.
"I got in trouble... Humans are a lot easier to run away from than Faeries so I moved here."
"With that kind of logic you must have an Imps... Faery's brain."

The wagon came to a stop. Mary had Scout stay in the wagon while she left to go get something for him.
I really hope she doesn't come back with guards... that'd suck.
She came back with a fancy suit worn by common citizens of the sacred lands.
"Just pretend your a friend of mine and I can get you a room, a bath, and some dinner."
"For real!? Wow Mary your like my new best friend!" Scout hugged Mary causing her to blush.
"Just put on a shirt already!" The suit was very confusing for Scout and it was too small for him. He couldn't get the shoes to fit so he went barefoot and his belly button was visible. When he exited the wagon Mary gasped.
"You look ridiculous... Ok new plan. If I make my family think I got a new slave, then you'd blend right in!"
"I don't like this plan."

Scout was dressed in white shirt with the word imp painted on and had a tight collar around his neck. Mary had to walk him like a dog inside of her palace.
"So are you like a princess or something?"
"Kinda... My family is very rich. Make sure you don't speak unless upon request, don't get out of sight, and always do as anyone says no matter how humiliating." Scout nodded.

The inside of the palace was gorgeous and was decked out with murals and sculptures. Scout was in awe. A servant came up to Mary and Scout looking pleased.

"Mary! I'm so glad you received my message!" said the servant.
"What message?"
"Hmm? Oh my mistake. Your brother requested a new toy, the last one broke, I assumed this Imp was the replacement... Did someone sell his horns and tail? Miss I can get you one of higher quality if you wish and just give this one to your brother."
"No! That will not be-"
"How lovely! My little sister got me a new imp! He's a bit small though, might not last long." said a mischievous male voice.

As he charged semi blindly, Marcus could see a figure enter the mist, and he knew instantly who it was. He altered his course slightly and almost met up with him before taking a hit to the back of his metal shoulder. He lost his balance but managed to twist around as he fell, ripping his revolver out of its holster in the process. As soon as his back hit the dirt he fired once, twice, thrice into the creature standing before him. The rounds punched through into the meat of its body, but the only visible effects of their impact was it staggering back slightly. No blood spilled from the wounds, just three holes where the rounds impacted. It leaped towards him, machete in hand, and he barely managed to raise his metalic arm up to parry the blow, when it made contact with the it the shrieks of tearing metal could be heard. In response he kicked out with one of his legs and shoved his revolver into its head as it fell forward a bit, pulling the trigger. It lurched backwards and flailed for a bit trying to regain its balance, allowing him time to get to his feet. His senses spiked and he spun out of the way of one that had leaped in towards him, grabbing onto its machete and ripping it out of its grasp. He stabbed it in the back with full force and was rewarded with seeing the blade come out through its chest. Almost at once it teleported away and the machete clattered to the ground.

What the hell are these things
Unknown, I've never heard of such creatures, undoubtedly some creation of Ragnarok's
That much is clear

The other one vanished in the commotion, so he headed towards Paul, who was engaged with the other two. He shot one in the head while it was focused and stowed his revolver, focusing on wielding Raiden two handed he stabbed it through the back and struck it so hard in the arm it severed and flew off in an arc. The creature almost immediately warped away.

"I was in the neighborhood, decided to stop by" he called out as he moved into a ready stance at Paul's back

Planet: Klogol
Location: Sseren Desert, I'nik tribe

The I'nik tribe had lived in the Sseren Desert for generations. They were a private people, masters of hunting and tanning, and had been self-sufficient for decades. They seldom visited the civilizations in their neighboring climates; the plains to the north, the seas to the west and south, and the mountains to the east. Alone in their warm cradle of sand, the hunters were content.

Their village surrounded a small pond, the dozen or see foot tall trees that sprouted around it their only natural shade. Mud huts and leather tipis spotted the sand around one side of the blue water, and a few had awnings made of either dried vegetation or woven blankets, propped up with sticks or well piled mud poles. Clay pots decorated the outside of the majority of the homes, each household's possessions of grain, water, or whatever else kept safe within.
On the other side of the pond, squares of small plants were organized as close to the water they could get. Little grew in the harsh heat, but for a culture that dined primarily on hunted game, the small variety of vegetables available was more than enough.

Some mile away from the village, the hunting party lay on their bellies on the warm ground, their eyes scanning the herd of sand hippos; potbellied, pony-sized creatures with flat noses, spikey tails, and webbed feet. They were named after their similarity to the water hippo in the way they managed to burrow themselves into the sand with only their noses above ground to keep cool in the heat while they slept. Once they burrowed, it was near impossible to dig them out, and the hunting part scanned the herd for a target they believed would be easy. There were three males; short and grey hippos, and four females; larger and reddish beasts with skin too hard for their arrows, and one calf; a paunchy thing that hopped and jumped comically around its mother.

“The big on on the right?” Mithi asked in a soft whisper, inquiring about which of the hippos they'd target.
“The middle one is larger.” Aarav voice.
“He might also be quicker.” Enoch pointed out, her face angled toward the group.
“Not if we take him down quick.”
“'If'.” Enoch repeated, but she knew they could manage it. “Aim for the front feet first. Disable it.”
“Yup.”

Slowly, the six of them rose to their knees, the sand burning their skin, all aiming their bows at the large male. “On my count.” Aarav said softly, and when he gave the command, the arrows flew, striking the hippos legs with precision. Its angry, pain-filled shriek echoed across the dunes, sending the others into a frenzied scatter before they regrouped and trotted comically away. The wounded male immediately began to attempt to burrow itself, only to find its front legs barely responsive.

“Second.” Aarav said, focused, and they all raised their bows again and fired on his call, their second volley piercing the hippos hide. It screeched loudly, braying in agony.
“Third?”
“No!” Enoch dropped her bow and picked up her bone axe. “Not fast enough.”
Leaving the others, she jogged toward the screaming beast, her feet sinking in the sand. When she drew close, the hippo abandoned its sad crying and tried to bite at her, its disc like teeth brown and short. Without hesitation, Enoch raised her axe and swung it hard, sinking it into the beast's skull with a wet-sounding thud, spraying Enoch with its bright red blood. The beast went still instantly, its screaming falling silent.

“God of the Hunt, we thank you for this Gift you've given us.” Enoch said, blood dripping from her nose. “Goddess of Life, forgive us this Child we've taken from you.”

The rest of the party jogged closer to her, some carrying smooth, thick poles, the rest carrying ropes. “That's a good look for you.” Aarav grinned flirtatiously at Enoch as she wiped the bitter blood from her lips. In response, she flicked her arm, sending droplets from her axe across her companion's front.
“Now you match.” She smirked back as Aarav rubbed his eyes.
“Oh, wait til we're home and you two can go enjoy a blood bath.” Valci grumbled, bending over the hippo to yank the arrows loose.

The journey back was a long one. Using the ropes and the poles to carry the beast between then, the six hunters trekked the mile back to their village. Tired and sweating, they delivered the hippo to the skinner and went to the banks of the water to sit.

Enoch walked in until her thighs were submerged, bending forward to cup water in her hands and splash on her face. Her long black braid fell over her shoulder and sunk into the water, the curly ends of her strands relaxing in the water. She was the only villager to have hair that curled softly at the ends, her hair too thick and heavy to curly overall. A gift from her father, she knew.

I'nik's were a rather private people, and seldom every welcomed outsiders, let alone reproduced with them. But Leili, Enoch's mother, often spoke fondly of the man she only called 'Pohactus'. According to her mother, the traveler had arrived one night under cover of darkness, without only an empty water skin and a weapon. The latter, he'd offered to Leili, who was instantly impressed. I'nik men presented women they fancied with weapons in order to initiate courtship, and Pohactus's weapon was much more deadly looking than any of the bone and wood weapons the I'niks usually had. The beast of a war axe, made of smooth looking metal, still hung on the wall of her hut, where it had been for the last thirty years.

He'd left again, shortly after Enoch was born. The village had often whispered about it, but Leili had never once seemed to be angry with him. In fact, five years ago when she fell ill and knew she was close to death, she only smiled happily about being that much closer to having her Pohactus back.

Enoch had never met the man. Or at least, she couldn't remember him.

When she was six, she held out her thin arm beside her mother's and asked why she wasn't as dark. Leili had said because her father was not a dark man, like the men of the village. So Enoch began to observe the others. Everyone had dark brown skin, straight, thick black hair, and soft brown eyes. Enoch knew her hair curled, more when it was shorn short, and when she'd asked her mother what color her eyes were, if they were like the rest of the village or like her father's, Leili had answered that Enoch's eyes were green as grass.

As a child, Enoch had enjoyed her appearance, if not only because of the look on her mother's face when she was looking at Enoch. Now, after her mother's death, Enoch felt more isolated than anything else. Not alone, per se, as she had friends, and, when she felt so inclined, a lover. But she couldn't help but feel different.

Sounds of clinking metal, revving engines and young ambitious voices pierce the darkness of Fuma's subconscious.

It was a dream? Again.. I've had that dream before. I think.

He sits up slowly, sore muscles dousing his nerve endings in an oddly pleasant wave of fire all the way down his back. This elicits a legendary groan from the back of his throat as he runs one hand through his orange hair.

It's always cold here. The low, creaky infirmary cot is warm... But there was much to be done.

Fuma stands after pulling on his boots, glancing at the digital clock that had been knocked to the concrete floor. Three hours ago he had collapsed on the cot, not entirely sure what part of the bustling rebel base in which he resides the welcome rest would come from. That's three hours more rest than usual, at any rate. His mask slowly regains it's signature features as he pulls on his weapons. It appears his armor never made it off, an urban style of Kevlar and blow-resistant matte plastic. It alludes to motorcycle gear, but without the pristine, fanciful aesthetic that the riders have. But I digress.

He makes his way into the metal walled hall that leads straight to the astronomically huge hangar of the base. It's a small base, but effectively equipped and manned by a fearless personnel of which he was the young leader. Fuma checks the regular maintenance stations, and comes upon the weapons tech and artillery department. He claps the back of his main technician gratefully.

"Thanks for holding down the fort. I needed the break."

Axel, the wiry looking technician grins widely, clearly running on pure caffeine.

"Please, I get to have fun when you finally give up the ghost! You can be kind of a hard ass."

The obviously insane tech jests, but regains a more serious countenance. He knows of Fuma's torments, but always hesitates to ask.
Fuma breaks this silence by smiling widely as the most active radio control officer walks passed both of them. Her hair is a dark blue accompanied by lavish makeup, gothic bracelets, and a gothic twist on her uniform. She has her long thick hair in a ponytail, power bangs in the front, large hoop earrings and loud chewing gum. Her expression does not look welcoming.

"Well well if it isn't the lovely Radio. When are you gonna tell us your name eh? Lookin' good."

Radio slows her gait and whirls around to face him.

"Not today Fuma, I'm busy. Besides, I'm way out of your league. Ding bat."

"Too mean Radio, you're so harsh. You know I'm just yanking your chain. Rai is the one who likes you so I have to make him squirm SOMEHOW."

She sighs and turns on her heel, regaining her long strides through the hangar. Fuma winks at Axel who already looks bored.

"Fuma I don't understand how you manage to keep such a light attitude in this place. It really baffles me.. this abyss gets the best of even our older vets, but you continue to egg on whats left of our childhood spirits. What's the point? I could die today."

Fuma's mask looses it's playful expression as he looks out across the hangar at the lives that he is responsible for. His countenance is unreadable, a code full of information and yet inaccessible.

"Axel... You really think too much."

“Open cell block 17C” The officer maintained a tight grip on Deidre’s arm, though the younger woman had no intention of pulling away. Where would she go? There was a loud buzzing sound as someone else pressed a button, and the door opened. Though Deidre had jumped the first time, she wasn’t quite as skittish anymore, not to these sounds. The officer released her arm and Deidre walked into the small cell, then turned around briskly to place her hands in the larger gap in the bars as it closed once more. The officer placed a key in the slot, turned it, and then pressed her thumb print on the scanner to tell the chip inside of the cuffs that it was, in fact, an officer removing them.

The officer walked away, and Deidre watched her for a few feet before she turned to face her roommate. They were dressed alike in white clothing, a color reserved for punitive purposes like this. Color was a part of freedom, the color of one’s clothing helping to distinguish their social class. Children wore the colors of their parents, unless they were unaffiliated with a social tier, like Deidre. Adults wore colors and patterns determined by their role in society, and their station within that role. For example, a new teacher might wear a suit with a blue streak down the side, the blue indicative of education, but as they grew in experience, their clothing could have more stripes.

Members of the prison system were stripped of their colors, stripped of the status in the outside world. It was also a place where prisoners, among each other, were equal. The woman with whom Deidre shared this cell had bashed someone’s knee-caps before her incarceration. Her reason? A man grabbed her ass in a bar while she was playing pool. So she smashed the pool cue into his legs repeatedly. Deidre didn’t think it was the worst cell-mate to have. At least this woman had been provoked. And she fully admitted that she had issues with anger.

“How did it go, Deedee?” Another reason Deidre liked her roommate, Rhonda, was that the woman was actually polite to Deidre. Both of them were probably just glad the other wasn’t completely insane—nor a loud snorer.

“It was fine.” Deidre answered, moving over towards the mirror on their wall and looking at her reflection. Her gaze flickered to Rhonda, who had raised her razor thin eyebrows as if she was waiting for more information than that. “The public defender will probably be here tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. Officer Bradley said that they tend to stay for a certain duration, and speak to who they can while they are here.” She explained.

“Pft.” Rhonda snorted and shook her head. “That’s the problem with those public defense guys. They don’t really care about you or I. They just work their 9 to 5 and then they go home.” She complained.

Deidre gave a small shrug, and began to pull her hair back into a ponytail, using her fingers to clear it all of knots. That was just the way things were, and there wasn’t any use on dwelling on the things she couldn’t change.

“Do you know when the trial will be?” Rhonda asked.

“No.”

“Shame. You’re too cute for prison.” The older woman grinned cheekily. “Those girls will eat you up.”

Deidre looked over at her roommate once more, chuckling lightly. She finished securing her hair and her lighter smile faded as she looked at her lightly freckled face in the mirror. Am I? She ran her fingers down the side of her cheek lightly. Perhaps she would need to fix that before the next stages of processing. She didn’t want to stand out when she went to the permanent penitentiary. Her current appearance had fared her well over the last few years. Being cute made her life a bit easier. But here, she might get the wrong sort of attention.

Coming out of her thoughts, Deedee heard that her roommate was still, in fact, talking about what would happen to the younger woman in prison. “…Then again, perhaps that will help you loosen up.” Rhonda laughed. Deidre shook her head lightly and turned away from the mirror, the sight altogether a bit depressing. Moving over to the bunk bed, she put her foot on the edge and hoisted herself easily onto the top bunk, the old metal bed-frame only groaning mildly in protest.

Before Maya could slink away to her bedroom, her first priority was to retrieve her trident Capella from the castle’s vault. Capella originally belonged to her mother; it was an Archon heirloom imbued with special abilities to help enhance and concentrate the Water Archon’s power. Many moons ago when Maya first discovered the glowing trident, it caused her to collapse into a comatose state upon grasping it, thus marking the inception of her Archonhood.

The delicate slippers of the Water Archon pitter-pattered down the main stairs of the castle as she ventured sneakily into the lower levels. She was jittery and anxious, possibly side effects of the time warp. Her slender fingers trembled as they pulled at the fabric of her dress, allowing her to descend the steps more easily. She cautiously scanned the surrounding area like a naughty child keeping an eye out for authoritative figures. A few guards stood here and there with solemn, blank faces, but the halls were otherwise empty. It was an odd predicament. Maya was the ordained ruler, yet she felt like a wanted fugitive. Like a stranger in her own home. For months, Maya had been aboard the spaceship Leviathan during which she trained extensively to perfect her physical performance and gain control of her water abilities. Just when the homesickness had begun to ebb and the sight of galaxies and nebulas out of her window no longer startled her, she was slingshot back to her home planet. She only wished that this homecoming occurred under happier circumstances.

Upon reaching the lowest floor, Maya bolted down the dimly lit hallway towards the family vault. The route was convoluted, but she could navigate the castle blindfolded, a perk gained from years of playing hide-and-seek as a child. Cobwebs floated from the ceiling, and the musty scent of mold permeated the damp air. Maya recoiled in disgust as a small rodent scampered across the floor. Do the maids never clean down here or what? A door marked with glowing blue stones signified the entrance to the room Maya was searching for. She pushed against it, but the solid marble door would not budge.

“Idiot!” Maya hissed to herself, “Of course it’s locked. I mean, it is a vault after all. What was that blasted code, though?” She banged her head against the door in frustration, somewhat hoping that would magically open it.

At that moment, Andromeda piped up inside Maya's head. Twist the bottom right stone twice. Rotate the upper left one halfway. Twist the bottom right stone again. Turn the upper right counterclockwise four times. Rotate the bottom left once. Push the middle right and left stones in at the same time. And then lick the center stone.

Maya struggled to keep up with the instructions, turning and twisting the luminescent glyphs before finally licking the door. A series of clicks and grinding noises could be heard before the hinge swung open with a loud groan. Dust billowed out from the room of antiquities.

Okay, that last part wasn’t actually necessary. I just wanted to see if you would really do it.

Maya rolled her eyes as she tried to get the taste of dusty door out of her mouth. How did you even know the combination to begin with?

Lucky guess. Andromeda was being purposefully secretive, but Maya would have to address that at another time.

Maya crossed the threshold and peered into the massive room. Expensive jewelry. Old family armor. Piles of gold. An urn containing the ashes of one of her ancestors. Dust-coated artwork. All meaningless possessions to Maya. Her object of interest was located at the very back of the vault, safely encased in a mysterious box of stone known as a bloodsafe. As the name suggests, bloodsafes are a rare variety of safes unlocked solely by the blood of a specific lineage. Due to their insuperable ability to protect items (and hefty price tag), they are only found within wealthy families.

Realizing that she had no weapons on her, Maya frantically tried to draw blood from her hand by biting it; however, she was only able to leave a few angry indentions. ((Meanwhile Andromeda is shaking her non-corporal head in disappointment)) Turning around, the Water Archon spotted a diamond encrusted dagger which she picked up and dragged against her palm, releasing a crimson torrent. She placed her bloodied hand on the cold surface of the bloodsafe, causing the markings on it to light up before it unlatched.

“Hello, my beautiful,” Maya greeted the glowing trident, “Promise you won’t render me unconscious like last time?”

For new Archons, touching their weapon for the first time immediately causes them to pass out, but since Maya had already gone through all of that, she assumed that it would be safe (or at least that’s what she hoped…). Hesitantly, she clasped her hand around Capella’s shiny silver staff. Nothing happened. With a sigh of relief, Maya exited the vault and headed towards her room.

Marcus' figure was approaching very quickly now, with the four mysterious figures in tow. Two of them warped near Marcus, so naturally Paul was ready to come help if it hadn't been for the other two who warped right in front of him. As if time had slowed down, Paul leaped off of the ground and slammed both of his feet into one of the figures' chest, bouncing off of him with enough force to send Paul flying back with even enough time to a flip and the BA "land kneeling down" pose that we all know and love. The other figure rushed at Paul with his machete in hand, it's eyes ablaze with a berserker fury. Paul quickly reached for his dagger, which miraculously was in his coat. He slashed horizontally, slicing through the figure's knee with enough force to make it stumble, after which Paul sliced vertically at the figure's throat. Before he could slice it's head in half, it vanished in a wispy black smoke. Paul probably would've died in the couple seconds of confusion if it hadn't been for Marcus' timely arrival in taking out the other figure.
"I was in the neighborhood, decided to stop by" Marcus called out as he got into a ready stance along with Paul.
"Heh, 'appreciate it."
The four figures reappeared surrounding Paul and Marcus with their guns in one hand and their machetes in the other.
"What do you say we get out of here?" Paul requested, sensing the futility of battle.

Derek woke from his quick rest in his apartment. Being something of a night owl, he preferred to get his rest in during the afternoon. It kept him fresh at night, and off the streets during the hustle and bustle of the day. While Derek certainly enjoyed company, he found crowds to be annoying. They were harder to keep track of, and obscured his vision. He took a quick look out of his "window". The sun was beginning to set, which meant it was time for him to prepare for his nightly adventures.

Derek grabbed some food to eat before setting out, and booted up his terminal. It was time to find out just what Myles thought would be so interesting. He navigated to where his jobs were saved, and clicked to filter for "new; unclaimed". The job appeared on the screen, and Derek nearly spit out his food in surprise when he saw the image of what he was stealing.

The Gemini pistols; his father's personal weapons.

Derek narrowed his eyes and began to look over the details. The buyer was anonymous, and apparently had offered a massive sum of money for it. Considering his usual rate, Derek could make out of this well enough to do whatever he wanted for nearly a year. Still, something was off. Derek new from experience that no job this good came without a catch. And wasn't just that this buyer wanted his inheritance. This smelt of something wrong. It was time to do some snooping.

Derek gathered his equipment, and flew out of the apartment on his glider. He needed to sort some things out. For some reason, he found it easier to think while he was flying. Something about the view and the air rushing past him. He began to think of things he hadn't considered for a long time. Just who had bombed his home? It had been so long since he considered that, he began to get a new insight on the possibility. There was too much in the way of greedy corporate slime and criminal BS to pin anything down. And he didn't know enough about his father's dealings to start.

Derek landed on a skyscraper's roof, and re-positioned himself. He turned to face the government building. With the massive amount of corporate freedom nowadays, it was hard to use government records to track anything. However, his father was a freelancer; one of the last of the greats. Derek took off again, and flew towards the building. Maybe he would find something there.