Marcus stood at the ready while surveying the creatures that were slowly surrounding them. Their eyes unsettled even him and the way they moved was bizarre, almost as if they were puppets controlled by some sick puppeteer with a grudge. The thought did occur to Marcus, he'd seen far, far stranger things in his time. What really caused him to wonder though, was the distinct lack of injuries on all of them, they were hard to tell apart, but small details could be gleamed, and the fact that one of them still had an arm made him extremely uncomfortable. He began to think long and hard over his past to see if he'd encountered anything like this.

Said thoughts were rudely interrupted by a flying machete that almost hit him in the throat if he hadn't deflected it in time.

Right, ponder later

Marcus immediately took to the offensive, lunging forward and impaling one with Raiden before it could react properly, it faded away as expected and he grabbed the hilt with both hands and swung viciously into the thigh of another, cutting clean through it. Both it and the leg disappeared. He could feel one materializing over him and he immediately slashed downwards vertically, then rolled away. The creature landed and seemed unharmed until a white line appeared along it, and forced it apart length wise down the middle.

As soon as Paul was through the rift Marcus dived in after him and it closed promptly after he crashed into the deck of The Leviathan's bridge.

"Every time I go back, there's always some new surprise fuck up waiting for me" he grumbled out loud. Whatever those things were, he knew that they would be encountering them again. He instantly turned his attention to Paul. "How are you feeling? We jumped back years, the first time it gave me the migraine from hell, and I was just the one sent back"

-------------------------????------------------------

The figure watched the combat footage taken from the new unit again, before putting it on a display at an angle the one strapped onto the table could see it.

When it came to show the Archon of Time, he paused it, letting the person in his care take a good long look.

"Y'see kiddo, that guy right there, that's why you're here" He prepared yet another syringe and casually injected it into their bloodstream.

"'Fraid to say that you're garbage pal, just some refuse kicked aside when a guy who's not supposed to be here took your place"

He leaned into the light finally, revealing a leering, falsely smiling face with white hair and a scar that ran down the top right corner of his head to the bottom left.

"You and me, we're the same, I'm just like you, you know. I was supposed to live out my life here, but then this-" he set the footage to play until the picture settled on Marcus's face. "this shit right here, he invaded his way in here, kicked me out of my natural place, and now look at me! I'm standing here, torturing you when you and I should be getting our asses in gear and murdering these invading fucks!"

Suddenly his wrist watch beeped, and he stepped back.

"Damn, I always get so carried away when talking about my other self, alright well I'm going to let you sit here and think while I get to working on other things, be back soon, I look forward to hearing feedback" with that he strutted off down to the staging area of the facility. Turns out one of the little fish had started biting, and now it was time to reel it in.

After reaching her private sleeping quarters, Maya closed the enormous mahogany doors behind her and slid Capella through the bronze handle grips, thus barricading anyone from intruding. Now that she was in a safer location with her weapon nearby, she relaxed her shoulders. Somewhat nostalgically, she circled around her room, soaking in every detail. Her reflection in her vanity’s mirror caused her to stop, however. Her hair, which was once a brilliant white, appeared duller, verging on gray. Her eyes were bright, but tired. Numerous pink scars decorated her delicate skin, creating a map of the violence she had endured. She hardly recognized herself anymore. Exhaling sharply through her nostrils, Maya broke away from the mirror.

Not wanting to repeat her past mistake, Maya decided to pack some of her own clothes before embarking back to the ship. The generic clothing provided by the Leviathan was enough to make a girl go mad. She flung open the doors to her walk-in closet, soaking in the beautiful array of exotic silks and lacy garments. She brushed her hand admiringly across rows and rows of fabric; she nearly cried at the sight of her shoe collection. There were definitely perks of being royalty that Maya missed dearly, and this was one of them. Grasping clothes by the handful, she shoved her favorite selections from her wardrobe into a cloth suitcase. With Paul in mind, she also packed a variety of delicate intimates. By the time Maya jammed five pairs of shoes into her bag, the seams were struggling to withhold all of the contents.

“Now, how do I get back to the Leviathan…” Maya questioned herself as she heaved her suitcase onto her bed. It wasn’t as though she could hijack a space cruiser and zoom off into galaxies far away. The technology on her planet, while sophisticated in certain regards, was centuries away from space travel. Furthermore, it lacked the ability to even communicate with extraterrestrials. Her species, blinded by willful pride, didn’t even entertain the notion that there could be other intelligent lifeforms out there.

Open a rift. Andromeda stated matter-of-factly in the back of Maya's mind.

Maya groaned.

You know I’ve only been able to do that twice successfully.

Successfully, nonetheless.

For countless months, Maya, under the instruction of Marcus, practiced relentlessly to achieve the skill of opening rifts. Rifts, which are akin to portals, act as shortcuts between two places. Like tectonic plates crashing together, a rift occurs as space folds and allows two points to touch. An Archon could activate a rift by imagining a specific location and thrusting their weapon downward, causing a tear in the fabric of space to take form. At first, Maya was only able to open dime-sized holes which she could only keep open for a few seconds. Over time, however, she managed to create and maintain larger and larger rifts. The act required not only physical endurance, but it was also psychologically taxing since undivided concentration was imperative to a successful rift opening. It was the mental equivalent of trying to balance on one foot on top of a quivering ball while juggling flaming swords. One slip of thought, and boom the gateway closes, severing anything still suspended in-between. Maya recalled a time during training when she sneezed while holding a rift open; a steel bar that Marcus was holding into the rift was instantly sliced in half. She grimaced, knowing that she could be divided down her middle just as easily.

“Okay, Andromeda. As dubious as I am, I don’t have any other options,” Maya conceded, “Plus, I don’t even know if the others are still alive. They can’t rescue me if they are dead.”

You can do this. You are stronger than you know. Concentration is key.

The Water Archon retrieved Capella from the doorway and then centered herself in the middle of her room. Maya closed her eyes, filled her lungs to capacity, and then slowly breathed out. She hoisted Capella above her head. As she emptied her lungs, she emptied her mind. Once nothing but oblivion filled her skull, she envisioned her quarters onboard the Leviathan. She was in a modest sized room. It wasn’t luxurious like the castle as it had a more pristine and sterile aura to it. The walls were paneled with various futuristic screens. The floor was bi-level as a short set of stairs led to a double bed clad with a gray comforter against the far wall. A skylight above the bed revealed a black sky illuminated by thousands of burning stars. Maya mapped a mental framework of the area and fleshed it in with details until she felt like she was actually there.

With one fell swoop, Maya sliced her trident downward. The air rippled as reality peeled away before her very eyes. From her room in the castle, she was staring into her living quarters onboard the Leviathan. It was as though a fragment of an image had been torn from its origin and pasted upon another picture. While maintaining concentration, Maya chucked her suitcase through the portal. It skidded into her room, slamming into her bed. Feeling a little more confident, Maya followed quickly in pursuit. The sound of her footsteps changed tone as she shifted from the surface of a marble floor to the metal floor of the Leviathan. And just like that, in a matter of just a few seconds, Maya traversed thousands of light years. The rift closed noiselessly behind her. Maya laughed, bubbling with pure satisfaction. Her heart was still fluttering, but she felt her apprehension and stress crumble away.

Now, to see if there is anyone onboard, she thought ominously to herself. Questions infiltrated her mind that she was hesitant to find out the answers to. Exiting her room, Maya made a beeline for Paul’s room across the hallway. Empty. Her stomach sank. That doesn’t prove or mean anything, she consoled herself. Next, she headed towards the bridge of the ship, hoping to find Marcus sitting casually at the command chair. The Leviathan was strangely empty, like a hollow shell of a corpse. The silence was deafening. Maya picked up her pace, her royal garments flowing like a comet’s tail behind her. Finally, she made it to the bridge just as two figures appeared.

“Why, hello boys,” Maya greeted in relief. She rushed to embrace Paul, throwing her arms around his neck.

There was a bit of a ruckus down the hall, with some prisoner getting out of line. Deidre brought her hands up to her ears and closed her eyes, blocking out the sounds of the guards beating the person once more. It was routine to cover her ears and close her eyes when she heard such things, and not just from her time in prison. Keep your head down. You’ll be fine. She told herself. It had kept her safe as a child, and it would keep her safe now.

You know, you can just change what you look like, walk right out of here.

I would still need to hurt a guard to take their clothing.

It doesn’t have to be permanent.

What would be the point anyway?

Freedom, you dolt.

I have a roof over my head, clothing on my body, and food on my plate. Why, exactly should I go anywhere else?

That silenced the nagging voice in her head for a little while. She felt like it had to be totally normal to have doubts, and to wonder if her course of action was the right one. She still wondered, though, if the voice that made her ask questions was something that normal people had, too. Perhaps she was the only one who had such crippling doubts, because she was a freak. She held her hand over her ears long after the sounds ended, lost in her thoughts until she felt her roommate shake her arm.

Deedee’s eyes snapped open and she turned towards the other woman in surprise. “What?” She asked. Rhonda looked at her for a few long moments, her eyes having a bit of a faraway look in them, but she didn’t speak right away. Instead, she shook her head a little, and sighed. “Nothing, Kid.” She said.

Rhonda rarely called her kid. It was only when she was trying to make some sort of point about Deedee being a bit young for a place like this. Perhaps she had regressed her age a bit when the sounds reminded her of being in the group home. She tumbled out of the bed and stumbled over a few steps to the mirror, the suddenness of the action surprising Rhonda enough to stay out of her way.

Now you’re just being paranoid, Deedee. She thought as she looked at herself again. Some people thought she was vain. She didn’t contradict them, because what alternative could she say? ‘Oh, no. I’m not vain. I just looked like a messed up science experiment, and don’t want anyone to see because I will be locked in a lab and poked and prodded until they can diagnose me.’ She didn’t think she was contagious, and had certainly never met anyone else like herself—at least, that she was aware of. She was white, Gods be Damned. It was the lowest of the markings that her skin could bear.

With her appearance confirmed, the pounding in her chest began to slow back to a steadier beat, and her grip on the small sink loosened. “Are you okay, kid?” Rhonda asked behind her. Deedee nodded, her face expressionless, and she began to pace around the room a little.

“It will be dinner time soon, right?” She asked, changing the subject before Rhonda could inquire again about her health—or mental sanity.

Rhonda looked down at her wrist, which was unfortunately bare, and sighed. “Yea, I think so.” She replied. Sure enough, about a half-hour later, the officers cleared out, and the path to the dining hall opened up. It made more sense, with so many inmates, for the guards to simply protect themselves and let the inmates work out their differences in transit. The other paths were blocked, and deviation led to rather unpleasant side effects. Few people tried anything squirrely, and even fewer tried something twice.

Deidre sat with her roommate once they had gotten the food. It wasn’t great quality, because they didn’t rank highly enough in social status to get food with flavor. But it was sustenance, and would give them energy to work. That was the purpose of Deidre’s earlier meeting, actually. She was given the option of ‘applying’ for work positions around the prison. The benefit was more time out of her cell, and potential access to other things, if she proved competent. The more dangerous jobs had better benefits, but Deidre wasn’t interested in working herself to death—coincidentally those dangerous jobs had a high turnover rate. No, she applied for a few easy things, like laundry, filing, and cleaning.

The pair were joined by a few others, most of whom Deidre knew. One of the women, however, was completely new, apparently to the prison system at all. Her roommate, Lola, introduced her as “Penny, in for robbing someone...Get it? For pennies!” She laughed at her own joke, and Penny turned bright red, staring down at her tray.

“Lola, stop being such a bitch.” Rhonda replied, shaking her head.

Quiet fell over the table for a few moments, until the new girl spoke up. “So… what are the rest of you here for?” Her voice was a bit timid, and it reminded Rhonda at least of Deidre a couple months before. The look on her face was someone trying to be brave, and trying to find a sane soul to cling to, because Lola certainly wasn’t.

“That’s a dangerous question to ask, kid.” Rhonda grinned, and then opened her mouth again to begin her tale.

Paul did want to answer Marcus' question. Genuinely, he did, as it was a pretty valid question considering Paul had not only rocketed himself and two individuals years back in time but had also fought off the elusive SKULL unit, undoubtedly another creation of Ragnarok. Unfortunately for Marcus, Paul's dearest love decided to come around the corner in that next moment, causing Paul to enter lovebird mode and immediately forget all other happenings that didn't involve passionately embracing Maya. Considering what everyone had been through, she looked absolutely beautiful- like a goddess, which she technically was. While Paul normally loathed royalty, his blind love for the gorgeous Maya enabled him to overlook that fact.
Turns out that Paul probably would've done well to answer Marcus' question, as the momentary hormone boost he had received upon contact with Maya was quickly wearing thin, and the true toll of Paul's recent actions was about to catch up with him. After much kissing and hugging and all that stuff, Paul pulled away (with the intention of that moment only being brief) but found his legs beginning to wobble. Blood began to, once again, pour from his nose and mouth as he collapsed onto the cold floor, and if his companions had any shred of mercy they would do well to transport him to the medical bay for treatment.

-------------------------------------------------------???-----------------------------------------------------------------

It'd felt like hours. Months. Years. How much longer could this poor fellow endure this torment. How much longer would he have to feel himself be torn to shreds inside and out, his entire humanity and soul ripped from his essence, leaving him nothing but an empty shell. But the interrogator's methods had worked: where there had once been sadness, love, joy, compassion, sentimentality and fear, now there was only burning hatred and seething envy. He had been born only to be replaced? Was his life only meant to be suffering? He couldn't sit by and allow this to happen... he would get back at the faker who had taken his destiny from him. If joining up with this "Ragnarok" fellow allowed him to do that, then he would go through any procedure, take any life, and burn any bridge to do that. He was Paul Hetfield, and he would destroy anyone that stood in his way. That was his destiny.

Nicole grabbed the few files that actually had documents inside, and not just scraps of paper with her as she left the office. She'd be staying up all night theorizing again, a habit she had after every search she made regarding her father. Though at least this time, she felt as if she found something, no matter how small, despite all her frustations. The tiny and only lead she had to her father's murderer. It was miniscule, perhaps it might even lead her to a wild goose chase since it was such a vague information.

As she returned home she reached towards her ankle, feeling what her father had left her, their family's heirloom. It was an anklet that had an emerald in the center, beside it were two pearls and it was held together by a gold chain. She couldn't help but feel a bittersweet smile grace her lips as she remembered the memory.

It had been her father's funeral, and she never felt as alone as she had ever been her whole life. That day, and even until now she never understood why. What was so special with her father? He wasn't a lawyer you'd hold a grudge against, a scrupulous business man nor was he the leader of a successful enterprise. He was just Kevin D'Lacrue, your everyday salesman. Nicole sighed and looked at the ceiling of her room wistfully before she closed her eyes. She really needed to sleep, she still had work to do tomorrow.

Enoch sucked in water from her hands, rinsed her mouth, spat, straightened, and then grasped her braid to wring the water out before she tossed it habitually over her shoulder. Glancing over herself to see where she needed to focus, Enoch rubbed water on her arms and chest, scrubbing until the blood on her flesh melted away. Crouching, she untied her leather straps and let her clothing fall loose into the water so she could scrub it clean as well, her fingernails scratching at the leather to free the strains. When she finished, she retied her leathers and cupped water once more, splashing it over her face before she strolled out.

“I do enjoy watching you wash.” Aarav grinned cheekily.
Enoch grinned back and flicked water at him with her fingers. “You should probably do the same. Some horrible woman seems to have bled on you. Oh, shut it,” Enoch laughed, cutting off the jokes that would surely follow.
Aarav continued to smile, his elbows on his knees. “Are you going to stick around and watch me?”
“Hardly. It's not as arousing to watch men wash.” Enoch sat herself on the sand bank beside him. Mithi and the others had gone off somewhere. Somewhere in the village, she could feel the vibrations of drums and knew someone was preparing for dancing tonight.
Making the same assumption, Aarav nudged her elbow. “You'll dance with me later, right? Maybe smoke a bit?”
“Maybe.”
“Then, maybe you can spend the night with me?”
Enoch grinned and shook her head. “So your brothers can watch us? No thank you.”
“Or, I can come to your hut.”
“Aw, and give you a chance to steal my mother's war axe?” Enoch leaned sideways and kissed his cheek. “Depends on how well you dance tonight.”

Rising to her feet, Enoch pretended not to see his abashed expression as she walked away. She went to her hut, sitting inside on the woven straw mat on the floor to clean her axe, digging into the grooves in the wood with her fingernails. As she worked, she glanced up at the metal axe mounted on the wall and smiled. In no way did she think Aarav would ever take it from her. It belonged to her mother, and now Enoch, through inheritance. It was still fun to tease him about it, though.

He'd tried a few times to make it known that he wanted to officially court her, asking questions as thought testing the waters of her reaction. He seemed to be under the assumption that Enoch wasn't into commitment, which was something Enoch wasn't about to set straight. While she often felt a bit different than the rest of the tribe, she had always been unsettled about binding herself to a man and family and cementing herself into the village. She couldn't explain it, exactly, but there was just a yearning for adventure in her. Maybe she'd break away one day and travel to the other colonies. Maybe to the mountains and walk in snow. Or to the ocean to hunt for the ocean game, whatever that would be.
She couldn't exactly leave if she had a few of Aarav's sons and daughters running around, grabbing at her hip.

Finished with her weapon, Enoch set it aside carefully and dropped the cloth she used to clean it before she rolled onto her sleeping mat. It was dried grass, feathers, leathers, and fur, piled comfortably in a way that fit her body perfectly. She sprawled on her back, the bed beneath her fitting the contours of her body perfectly. Enoch raised her arms and bent her legs. Their huts were built in a way that kept the air cooler than the outside, but it was still hot enough to warrant fevers during midday naps. Laying so none of her limbs touched helped keep her cooler, and Enoch closed her eyes and drifted off, the heat making her sleepy.

Maybe an hour later, Enoch woke, her body flushed with heat. Groaning, she sat up, loose strands of hair sticking to any skin they could reach. Taking a moment, Enoch rubbed sleep from her eyes and combed her hair back with her fingers before she stepped out into the sun again.

It seemed most of the village had slipped into their respective shelters to sleep through the hotter hour of the day. It was quiet and empty, though Enoch could still hear the sound of the drums from across the pond, and a bit closer, she could hear the tanner working on the hippo hide.

Turning right, Enoch walked to the hut beside hers, in which lived the ancient, retired huntress, Wnous. She was nearly blind, and had difficulty moving her fingers and performing every days tasks. Often as she could, Enoch would help her out. Wnous was sitting on the mat in her doorway, as usual, and Enoch approached and squatted before her. “Afternoon, Wnous, it's Enoch.” Wnous smiled toothily, several of her teeth missing. “Do you need anything today?”
Wnous raised her arm slowly and gestured. “Water?”
“Of course.”

So Enoch rose and picked up the jar that stored water for the elderly woman. She wandered back to the pond, which was empty and calm, and filled the jar. Carefully, she balanced it on her shoulder and walked back, placing it back where it belonged. “All full. Is there anything else?” Wnous shook her head, smiling once again. “At dinner, I'll make sure you get a serving of meat, okay?”
“Thank you,”

Finished with that task, Enoch wandered again, walking past the others huts and the bordering tipis to move toward what served as the village's center, even if that was technically the pond. There was a rather large hearth, bordered by three cooking pits, and large enough that, when lit well, hid anything on the opposite side. It didn't burn, now, but tonight it would burn brightly, judging by the preparations.

It was never exactly a planned event, but a few times a moon's turn, they'd light the fire and cook game while dancing and playing music. It was usually joyous, a time used to celebrate new births, unions, or lives of the newly deceased. It was hard to be sad during a fire, with all the drinks and meat circulating. Enoch had tried when her mother passed, and had wound up quite drunk and danced half the night before she'd slumped over beside Valci and Mithi, falling asleep with her limbs tangled with theirs.

The wood came from the neighboring areas; at least a two day walk in any direction. In the sweltering heat, the journeys were made only so often, usually the fires were made the day after. That being said, there was plenty in supply now, and Enoch circled around the storage tipi to assist the villagers who toiled to cut the trees into pieces.

“Hello Sadr.” Enoch said to the weathered man with the hunched back, who was swinging his muscular arm downward to bite the bark with his axe.
“Ah, Enoch.” he said, pausing in his task to seek and point to a spare axe for her. She grinned and fetched it, returning to stand beside him. “Finished hunting early?”
“I did. Don't want to get lazy, so here I am.”
“We appreciate the help.” Sadr turned and whistled. “Meda. Take a break.”
The rather pregnant Meda stepped back from the logs and dropped her axe, waddling to sit in the shade of a hut for water and rest. Enoch bent her legs and swung her axe. “I'll take a few pieces for Wnous. Little ones.”
“I knew there was a catch.” Sadr smiled.
“You know she likes to mind her own hut.” Enoch chided the older man between swings.
“I know, I know. You can have however much she needs.”
“So, I did want to ask another favour, though.” Enoch asked, glancing at the older man after she pulled her axe from the wood. “The next time you go out to cut down trees, I'd like to go.”

“Is that so?” Sadr paused in his work, standing upright to gaze at her. “You want to leave the village?”
Ench shrugged, also standing to speak with him. “I venture a little to hunt. I think I'd like to see more. See different lands. I'm restless.”
Sadr chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Yeah, you've got the itch.” He lowered himself into position again and continued swinging. Enoch followed suit. “We leave in about ten nights. If you're up for it, get your supplies in order. You'll need a bedroll, a tent, plenty of rope, two axes, and rations for a week. Got all that?”
“I think so.” Enoch smiled brightly before she swung her axe again. She felt excitement, now, at the thought of heading out of the village on something more than a hunt. She'd see some place new!

Relief flooded Maya’s senses, followed by an immense wave of joy, as she reunited with her beloved beau. Balanced on the tips of her toes, she wordlessly greeted Paul with her silky lips. The duo had been through the ringer together. Side by side, they trained for months, embarked on countless missions, and ultimately fought back-to-back in the “final” battle. In stark contrast to Maya’s royal upbringing, Paul was a cheeky buccaneer with a morally questionable background. Despite their differences, the pair had quickly kindled a relationship. Just as a pirate is drawn to the sea, the Archon of Time was drawn to the Archon of Water (and vice versa).

Lost in the fabric of time, the two remained entranced with each other until Paul finally pulled away. Maya moved a hand to his face, gently brushing her thumb against his cheekbone. Her teary aquamarine eyes scanned his countenance as she caressed a scar that trailed down his cheek. The Archon looked as though he had aged a decade, yet he was more handsome than ever. Flushed and glowing, Maya smiled. Everything was going to be alright. Or at least that was how she felt until she noticed the stream of crimson trickling down from Paul’s nose.

“No, no, no,” Maya blubbered as she watched Paul’s knees buckle beneath him. Blood bubbled from his mouth, frothing into a pinkish foam. His body hit the ground with a sickening thud.

You could have caught him, you know, her guardian quipped. Maya stood there with her face contorted by sheer horror.

“Don’t need your sass right now, Andromeda,” she yelled aloud. Maya dropped to her knees beside him. Quickly, she positioned the Archon of Time on his side so that he wouldn’t choke on his own fluids. Bright red splotches formed on Maya’s cloak as more blood spilled from his nose and mouth.

The Archon of Water whipped around to face Marcus, “Help me get him to the medbay. Now.”

The government office is not as heavily protected as compared to corporate buildings. After the advent of extraterritoriality, local governments often found themselves with less resources then the corporations that controlled the streets. Even the little security this building had was hired from Ares Macrotechnology, one of the biggest megacorps in the area. Of course, it was pretty minimal, to say the least. There was little of value in a building like this. Which is exactly why Derek dropped into the hallway from a rooftop skylight with no resistance.

Derek spent a few seconds to reload his glider back into his pack. Having it out in a building would just slow him down. He got a look at a nearby directory. The freelance files would be found in one of the few areas of the building with a moderate amount of security. The few people left with skill to compete between the megacorps were a valuable asset, and actually had some of the few economic protections left for small entrepreneurs. His father had been one of these, sought out to temporarily aid various R&D departments. Assuming that the idiots at Ares hadn't changed the security, Derek knew exactly how to get to the files.

Derek silently moved through the hallway to the data vaults. A few patrolmen moved through the halls, but they were clearly sleep deprived. If this wasn't just a local record building, he would have been sure this was a setup. It might still be, but it seemed someone would want to ambush him at the target's location, not here. The door to the record room did have a card lock, but it was an older model. Nothing a trusty hack-tool couldn't hard-wire. Taking a quick peek through the opening, Derek slipped inside.

Derek pulled out a PDA as he reached the computer. He only ever really used it to take data from computers like this, as he didn't enjoy being tracked through technology. Plugging into the database's port, Derek went looking for his father's files. It didn't take to long before he found what little was left. To be fair, there was still a good amount, but Derek's father apparently shared his philosophy on technology to a lesser extent. Copying the files this his PDA, Derek flipped through to see where the Gemini Pistols might be located. Turns out they had been bought in a corporate auction by Rashin Industries. Derek frowned. While they styled themselves as an energy company, anyone who knew about the dark side of megacorps knew they also dabbled in more "morally ambiguous" research. Weapons tech, bio engineering; if they could profit, they worked on it.

There was only one big Rashin R&D lab in the city. Trouble was, it was also one of the most well defended in the country. This was going to need some prep work. As Derek gathered his things to make his getaway, he froze. Something sounded like footsteps behind him. Derek slowly slipped his hand to his silenced 9mm, as he attempted to act natural. Suddenly, he whirled around, aiming his gun at whatever might have made the noise.

The room was empty.

Taking another sweep of the room, Derek doubled his efforts. It was time to leave, one way or the other. It only took a few more seconds for him to close down the database, and begin to make his escape.

A boy rides his motorcycle through back roads, under a black sky. He has collected important information concerning the future movements of a deadly enemy, and is making the risky journey back to headquarters.

"Radio, am I free and clear?" He mutters into his dark helmet.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

"Radio? You there?"

That's troubling... She never skips a shift.

The armored rider gears up his bike despite the increasingly pained hum it emits. It's risky, but if the engine is already this loud, there's no point in hiding in the back roads. He busts a right turn and skids on to main road, his bike glinting periodically under the flickering street lights. It's an abandoned city, one he has passed through many times. The battlefield is a haunted remnant of a destroyed civilization, a modern, thriving civilization. He doesn't really inquire about it, but occasionally the thought crosses his mind about what may have resided there in the recent past.

At any rate, the skeletal remains of the city make for excellent cover, and all the same for the enemy. But why should he care? He doesn't even want to be fighting this war.

The faint light leading towards the headquarters appears and he guides his motorcycle toward it, gearing down quietly. He rolls into the hangar, his bike phasing through the armored door with it's shield. It's a bit busy, and he spots Fuma's bright orange hair easily. He swings his leg over the seat and pulls off his helmet, sore muscles making him fully aware of his numb gluteus maximus.

"Fumaaaaa I'm back for debriefing."

Fuma spots his good friend Rai and lets out his breath slightly. He felt relieved. It had been a long double shift for a rider of Rai's level. Fuma trots over to his station and slaps Rai briskly.

"Your ass is sore isn't it, I bet that hurt." He smirks at Rai who is angrily grimacing.

"Haaaaaa thanks man, yes it is. It's too quiet out there." Rai gives Fuma an annoyed look, but grins his white smile flashing those unnatural fangs. Fuma has always thought they were kind of weird but also cool.

He was slightly jealous of them.

"Does the darkness whisper to you? Lets hope so, I haven't been able to read manga lately, Radio is being so stingy. I need something interesting." Fuma's mask smirks again, but Rai can tell he's exhausted and most likely tired.

"Let's debrief a little later alright? I really need a break."

"Okay alright I see how it is, you're too tired for me, I get it. I'm a nonentity after all, sigh, I guess I'll just go. Keep your chin up Rai. We're doing a good thing here remember." Grins at Rai, remembering the valiant origins of this rebellion. Fuma realizes the risk and the ever-hovering darkness in this dimension. It haunts his fighters, so he always tries to cheer them up by acting like a goof ball and be sarcastic.

In the recent past, a new growing syndicate of warlike association had decided to attack the 3rd syndicate. To conquer was their purpose, as they had already conquered several others. However, in these exploits many of their pawns had been lost as cannon fodder, sent to die on suicide runs and recklessly destroyed. This created a need for man power, and the foundling 12th syndicate was their source. This unnamed, unestablished War syndicate invaded the 12th, and robbed it of their children. They were enslaved and indoctrinated into foreign ways, supernaturally kept alive after death in the form of a Shadow. This boy, by the given name "Rai", is one of these children. Despite the harsh change, and the destructive nature of the War syndicate, these children's hearts burned. They burned for freedom... for peace... and for their own identity. Rising up among them came a revolutionary, a young man by the name of Fuma. He was different... His soul burned with a light unfaltering, and he united the Shadow Children, like Rai. Soon they grew stronger and learned the War syndicates weaknesses, their plans. The revolt began in the early hours of the morning... Fuma signaled and sabotage ensued. Despite the betrayal of a close conspirator, it succeeded, and the Shadow children took what was left of them and receded into the wasteland of the alternate dimension in which these wars take place. There they continued train and foster their camaraderie, and to sabotage the War syndicate. Here they remain, slowly attacking again and again through guerrilla warfare, a tired war of thoughtful attrition.

It's serious business.

Paul was on his last legs, Marcus could see it in his eyes, he knew the feeling all too well. As he aged and his powers matured he had reached a point where his body simply couldn't handle them anymore. Not that Paul was in danger of that right now, but the strain that had been put on him definitely would've had a similar impact. The ripple of ambient light and the sound of footsteps echoing from outside the bridge alerted to him why Paul hadn't given up and collapsed right then and there.

Well that made things considerably easier

One wonders why you bothered to go after Paul

I wasn't sure alright, last time I did this it was only me

You retained your abilities and your knowledge, me as well

Well, we reverted back to a point where I already had met you, not the case for them

In any case, let's be thankful that we may finally be a step forward this time

The tired old man in me thinks otherwise

Pah! you have much to learn about age young one

Marcus chose not to reply, debates with Arcturus could go on forever. The senile spirit seemed to be in a perpetual state of boredom.

I heard that

Shut up

While he was preoccupied with the debate in his mind, he caught an angry look from Maya, evidently Paul had coughed up some blood and collapsed. From the looks of things she wanted him to carry him. With a shrug Marcus hefted Paul's unconscious frame up onto his metal shoulder, it seemed the man had gained some weight.

"You know, you could've caught him" he said in an almost tired tone. "Deckplate's kind of unforgiving, the fall might've done more lasting damage than his faint. Welcome to the Archon version of getting old. You didn't think I kept coughing up blood all the time because I took a scythe to the face did you?"

That scythe had recently taken off his arm, something that he'd have to ponder over adverse effects about. He began walking towards the medbay, periodically checking over his shoulder to confirm that yes, Maya was still there following him.

"You two won't probably feel the adverse effects of living a long life for a while yet, the first time around things took a.... while. I'm over a thousand now, if you count by that timeline's earth years. Forgive me if I don't tell you when my birthday is, there's more than a few things I'd like to forget."

He'd never shared information so flippantly, something that puzzled him. He did make a decision to get to know the others after the disaster that was the second time around. Turns out using people as tools demoralized them. Even if it did save you from that feeling you got when you watched your best friends suffer horrendous deaths. The memories of having to cut down the reanimated corpse of his adopted son intruded upon his psyche, almost causing him to stiffen and drop Paul. He held on, barely, and kept his pace.

Before long they reached the medbay and he causally dropped Paul onto one of the beds, all the man really needed was some Oxycodone and some rest. He stretched his good arm a little then looked over to Maya.

"He'll be out for a while, could be anything from ten hours to ten days, in any case you can play doctor if you like, or you can go out and help grab the new Archons sitting out there before they're hunted down and murdered. Your choice. Ping me if you need anything, or if he wakes up and starts trying to kill you"

With that said he spun quickly on his heels and headed back to the bridge. There he typed in a dimension at random, and fired up the rift drive. He set it to auto center over the correct planet and he jogged to the drop bay. Once there he wasted no time clambering once again into a drop pod, and firing himself down to the surface.

Data filled the display screen as he hurled down. Apparently this one managed to escape the logs, little to no information filled the charts.

Odd

Indeed, information is money, as they say, I wonder what caused ships to pass it by

Alerts suddenly blared on the screen, previously unseen bits of debris were uncovered before his very eyes. It appeared that he had accidentally wandered into a trap of another kind.

Shit

A word that was repeated rapidly as he descended past faster and faster waves of more numerous bits of space rock, one that was increased in volume exponentially as he felt the sickening pop of one smacking against the pod, then another, and another....

Things came to a head when a huge BANG could be heard and suddenly Marcus's stomach felt as if it had elevated its position in his body as his pod hurtled out of control into the atmosphere, He could vaguely see shreds of metal and rock become bright streaks in the sky along with him as he spun aimlessly. He descended faster and faster, something that concerned him as he could hear the air screaming away from his metal shell. Realization hit like a truck, those shreds were his air brakes.

Helpless as he was, he could only hope that he wouldn't break anything when he crashed, and given that the surrounding area was a desert, the threat of sinking bellow the sands was all too real. If he ejected now, it would be likely that he would just break apart on hitting the ground. The only option was to ride it down and hope to wake up later. The ground quickly rose up to meet him, and the last sounds he heard before blacking out was that of tortured metal screaming as it tore apart.

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

Though this mortal frame had only existed for so long, The Doppelganger was well accustomed to living within the shadows. He watched his prey with interest, as he himself had no idea where the parent's weapons were located. He'd been unused to the new body, and so made a rather infuriating mistake, the boy had heard him. The unbroken nature of the new form he had, ironically made it unnatural, he'd have to modify it later. For now as he leaned over his shoulder to view the information on the PDA. Careful, oh so careful to make sure he didn't breath.

Rashin industries eh? Been looking for dirt on them, now I have an excuse

Quickly and quietly he moved back, fast enough to bug out of the room, but slow enough not to draw any untoward attention. As soon as he was out of sight he deactivated his suit's active camouflage. He keyed on a neural link to the team leader that was waiting for him in an unmarked hauler.

Rashin industries R&D, time to move in and clean up the place, we'll be preparing a welcome mat for a special guest as well, so be so kind as to not leave a mess

He trusted the team, they were good little dolls, doctored up by his own hand and conditioned to be extremely loyal, with enough processing power left to not necessarily be robots. They could complete mission parameters, and had enough juice to deal with objectives in a creative way, but not enough to question said orders.

As for his part, The Doppelganger decided to continue subtly tailing the descendant, if an opportunity arose to claim him he would take it, but he was useless without his weapons. He'd need to wait for a very, very specific moment in time before he could claim him. As far as intel on his.... counterpart, he knew that he was far and away moving to grab an additional pawn, and he was confident enough in his own abilities to deal with the other two, should they come for him.

No, they would not be much of a match for him, now all was left was the most strenuous part of the hunt, the wait.

“I don’t need your sass either, Marcus,” Maya remarked, matching his tired tone with an even more exasperated one, as the older Archon reached down to heave Paul off the cold, bloodied floor. To Maya’s annoyance, her reflexes weren’t as fast as they were before the time warp. As she crossed her arms across her chest, she noticed that her muscle mass had seemed to have decreased as well, leading herself to question if she would’ve even been able to support the Archon of Time’s dead weight. Nevertheless, guilt gnawed at her insides as she recalled the sound of skull meeting metal. She could already imagine the lovely multicolored bruise that would certainly stain his forehead like a morbid watercolor. Sorry Paul.

Maya listened carefully as she trailed behind Marcus towards the medbay. His explanation, which he revealed rather nonchalantly, caught Maya off-guard. She paused, furrowing her silver brows.Adverse effects? Part of her felt appalled, almost betrayed, yet it made sense. Their parents, one of them at least, were pureblooded, original Archons. They had godlike bodies capable of withstanding godlike power. Maya and the other descendants, however, contained godlike power within a fallible hybrid meat-suit. While the superhuman capabilities could help sustain their carnal abodes, too much exertion yielded catastrophic cellular breakdown as the body rips apart from the inside out. It would be like trapping a tornado in a house and hoping everything stays perfectly in place. Shaking her head, Maya picked up her pace to catch up with Marcus again.

“You never disclosed the reason behind your…affliction,” Maya replied dryly, “I knew better than to ask questions, though. You’re not exactly an open book. This information regarding the detrimental consequences of Archonhood is news to my ears as well. I feel as though perhaps we should have broached this topic sooner.”

What if I had created a tsunami and inadvertently blew my brains out? Maya thought reproachfully.

When Maya first joined Marcus’s brigade, he remained purposefully secretive and maddeningly mysterious. Trying to get answers out of him was like trying to drown a fish. If things were going to work this time, Marcus, as well as Paul and Maya, would have to be open with the fellow Archons in order to create a more unified team. The newbies would have to know what they were getting into before they were up to their ears in blood. The only way all of them would make it out alive was if they pushed through together.

The trio entered the sickbay as the sliding doors parted with a soft swoosh. Maya flicked on the lights and pressed a few buttons, illuminating the machine-filled room in a stark white glow. Various beeps, chimes, and chirps greeted them in chorus as the medical equipment buzzed back to life. After plopping Paul on a bed, Marcus administered a generous dose of oxycodone to the unconscious man. Maya pulled up a stool next to Paul’s bed, watching as the monitors overhead began to register his vitals. Everything appeared relatively normal, especially considering the trauma and exertion he had undergone. Maya felt a slight rush of relief, but her eyes betrayed a lingering sense of worry. Sighing, she ran her fingers gently through his hair.

The Water Archon looked over to Marcus as he stretched his “good” arm, noticing that his other arm was no longer composed of flesh and bone. Instead, shiny robotics replaced everything from his shoulder to his fingertips. When the bloody hell did he get that upgrade? I am 95% sure that it hasn’t always been like that. Taken aback, she cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, but kept her mouth shut. Before leaving the medbay, Marcus informed Maya that she could either stay here with Paul, or she could embark on a mission to start retrieving Archons. Emotionally torn, Maya looked back to Paul. She hated the idea of leaving him after reuniting just moments ago, but a greater sense of responsibility tugged at her conscience.

“See you later,” she whispered as she leaned over and kissed Paul’s forehead.

Before embarking on her mission, Maya decided to swing by her room to pick up Capella and change clothes. Wanting to appear inconspicuous, Maya disrobed out of her ridiculous royal garbs in exchange for an all-black ensemble. Next, she made her way to the bridge.

“Right, now how do I locate these new friends of ours?” Maya mumbled to herself as she circled around the command room. She scanned the room as she drifted from one display screen to another, hoping that a magical flashing light would tell her where to go. Befuddled, she resorted to sitting in the command chair, contemplatively scratching her head. I should really take the time to learn what all these newfangled gadgets do. I’m almost surprised Marcus even lets me on the bridge.

“Aha, gotcha!” she chimed as she spied a square piece of paper stuck to the navigation center. A series of numbers scrawled in Marcus’s notoriously bad handwriting marked the sticky note. Coordinates. Choosing the second set of coordinates from the list, Maya plugged the sequence into the Leviathan’s rift drive, causing the ship to relocate above a new planet in a new dimension.

She then marched to the hangar where she begrudgingly crawled into a drop pod. Inputting yet another set of coordinates, Maya marked the general vicinity on the planet of where the Archon was suspected to be located. Once all systems were ready to go, she gritted her teeth and buckled herself into the falling pod of doom. While drop pods are great for quick transport, they are also terrifying. These awful metal cocoons plummet through atmospheres like falling stars, only to be stopped from catastrophic impact by a system of airlock brakes. Drop pods, at least in Marcus’s case, tended to either get ripped to shreds or land in the most inconvenient of places. Maya was not thrilled to say the least.

Clutching the restraints fastened across her shoulders, Maya waited as an automated voice counted 3…2…1… As the pod was expelled forcefully into space , Maya screamed her fool head off. The drastic increase in G-force caused her stomach to feel as though it was twisted in knots. Knowing that there wasn’t much she could do, Maya clenched her eyes shut and hoped for the best. As the pod breached the atmosphere, the deafening roar of metal ripping through the air drowned out all of Maya’s frantic thoughts. Minutes passed by like millennia until finally, the pod’s brakes activated with an angry hiss. The Water Archon braced herself for impact. Miraculously, the drop pod managed to gracefully greet the earth, landing with a solid thud. Maya slowly reopened her eyes.

This darker, alternate Paul looked down at the monstrosity that was his body. He had truly been torn inside and out, left as nothing but a shell to be used by a machine. Could he even be considered Paul Hetfield anymore? As he pondered this in horror, he tried to move, but found himself strapped down to a table, as he had been for what felt like years. He tried to flex his arms, but found that there was no muscle being strained, but rather cold machinery. Even so, he felt... powerful. There was a sort of intensity throughout his entire body, and he felt stronger than he ever had before. With a quick snap he broke the bonds that were holding him, as if his true potential had been lying dormant in him all along.
He stood upright, a bit wobbly on his cybernetic legs. His one remaining human eye scanned the room for a way out, while his cybernetic eye began to boot up, as were the power cells in his body. Someone seemed to be activating him from beyond, although he wasn't sure if this was a sort of supernatural force or his own self-intiative that was enabling him to suddenly snap metal bars and balance upon metallic prosthetics.
His robotic eye activated with an overwhelming sting, causing Hetfield to cry out in pain as a plasma laser shot straight from his eye. Terrifyingly, his voice wasn't his own, at least not the one produced by his vocal cords. It was instead a mere machination of his voice, recreated through the speaker lodged in where his throat used to be. The laser tore through the items in the room like paper, until Hetfield finally got the laser under control. His cyber eye now had a red interface, which he was quickly able to use as if he had it his entire life. He found an exit, but only once it was opened by a heavily armored soldier. Hetfield had inadvertently destroyed the room's light in his laser bout, so the room was completely dark once the door was closed except for the glow of Hetfield's eye (and some of his cybernetics.)
While the soldier had seen things that no human should ever see, he couldn't help but be slightly unnerved by Hetfield moving towards him slowly at first, but quickly picking up the pace. The soldier was thrown through the door, slamming into the tight hallway wall. Hetfield stood above the soldier, his eye laser charging as his machinated voice gurgled "Where is your boss?!" ferociously.
Piercingly, Ragnarok, the embodiment of Death, forced his way into Hatfield's mind, like a parasite digging it's way through skin. This caused Hetfield's eye to discharge, splitting the interrogated soldier in half.
None...speak to me...for I speak to them the voice muttered within Hetfield's mind, with enough menace that Hetfield was instantly attentive.

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Paul, the true Archon of Time, very slowly awoke from his coma aboard the Leviathan. His forehead ached maddeningly, although the small water molecules left behind from Maya's cute and affectionate kiss did help to ease the pain somewhat, although Paul wasn't sure if that was because he perceived the kiss coming from Maya (and thankfully not from Marcus) during his brief coma or if there was truly some sort of pain-nullifying benefit gained from kisses, as so many mothers have tried to convince their children.
Sliding off of the "bed," which was in reality closer to a slab of metal rather than something suitable for a hospital environment, but seeing as Marcus' ship didn't belong to any government there wasn't exactly an inspection team. Seeing as his lovely... well, lover, wasn't there watching over him and Marcus was also not there in his usual brooding way Paul could only assume that they had gone to pick up more Archons. Considering the urgency, Paul decided to quickly push away the thought that perhaps Maya was waiting for him in the bedroom, and instead went on his way to the bridge, where he found a preset set of coordinates, which he selected, and then went on over to the drop bay.
Paul climbed into the cramped, uncomfortable drop pod and prepared to launch. The half-peeled off Scooby Doo sticker did little to ease his worry of going splat upon reaching the surface of the planet, which seemed to have an awful dangerous terrain. Paul would've begun to ponder how exactly a Scooby Doo sticker got onto the brooding Marcus' drop pod, but the launch of the pod at such a high velocity disrupted that thought. Paul's pod landed and thankfully he made it in one piece.

“But why are you going?” Aarav asked. He was sitting beside Enoch in the shade of a tree, holding one end of the rope she was winding. He gazed at her in mild concern, as if he suspected she was joining the expedition group to avoid him.
Enoch just smiled. “Why do you think? I want to see more of the world.”
“But, why?”

Enoch couldn't help but laugh at his expression. “Aarav, this has nothing to do with you. Stop looking so offended.” Aarav closed his mouth, but he continued to stare at her. “I am not full-blood I'nik, you know. My father was a traveler. Its in my nature to travel. To see things.”

“But your mother was no traveler,” Aarav argued softly. “Being a mother and a wife is also in your blood. Its safer. Why not choose that? Why not choose ...”
Enoch looked up when Aarav fell silent, the end of his question vivid in his eyes. Why not choose me? Pausing in her task, Enoch lowered her hands and sat up. “Its not a death sentence, Aarav. Sadr is in his fifth decade. And Meda is due soon for her first child. Just because I want to travel does not mean I don't want a family.”

“Do you, though?” Aarav asked, looking very unconvinced.
Enoch leaned back with another sigh and resumed her rope-making. “I don't know yet, Aarav. Maybe being out will help me make a decision.”
Aarav clicked his tongue. “Unless you're slaughtered by something.”
“Please.” Enoch scoffed. “What out there could kill me?”
When Aarav opened his mouth, Enoch felt the ground shake slightly, and Aarav raised his eyes and stared in awe. “How about that?” He asked, dropping her rope and rising to his feet. Curious, Enoch turned around to look behind her as a she heard the resonating boom. As Aarav did, she stood and raised her hand to shield her eyes as the massive object fell from the sky.

Staring in alarm, Aarav and Enoch were silent in contrast to the echoing sound of the objects impact in the sand. Enoch felt the sand vibrate beneath her feet and a few seconds later the rush of air flew over them, and all who had come out of their huts at the noise turned their backs and covered their faces.

“What by the Gods was that?” Aarav asked, stepping up beside Enoch.
“God of Shadow!” Another village cried out in fright.
“Goddess of Strength, stand with us!”

Enoch wasted no time on prayers, however. She bent and scooped up her ax and started toward where the thing had fallen. Aarav groaned and picked up his own weapons to follow her, his bow tight in his hand. Several others had picked up their weapons and were marching forward, leaving the frightened children with their mothers as they went to investigate.

Speculation traveled back and forth as they walked through the sands. Was it dangerous? Of course it was dangerous. Was it alive? It fell from the Heavens. Would it be wounded? It would likely lash out at them. They should be cautious. Move slow. Spread out. Confuse it. If it couldn't be killed, then what? Enoch focused ahead, the sun setting beyond them, which she knew was another hazard. They'd be blinded. Nervous, she swung her ax in her hand, warming up her arm and flexing the muscles.

In a half an hour, they reached the large crater of the creature, the sand rising upward. The I'nik's spread out, their feet quiet on the sand, and together they began to climb, bending low and resting on their bellies near the top to peer over the peek.

It didn't look like any creature any of them had ever seen. It looked like it was made of stone or metal, its shape resembling the head of some massive beast. There was no blood, but pieces of strange things littered in the sand, made of the same tissue. What Enoch assumed were veins were spread around here and there, and its slanted, dim eyes were still.
“I think it is dead,” Someone said to her left.
As if in answer, the head let out a loud breath of steam and the I'nik's recoiled, their heads disappearing behind the sand dune. All save Enoch, who wasn't as frightened by the sound. She lowered her head as a cloud billowed away from the beast, her eyes focused on what she assumed was its face. Barely, the sunlight hindering her sight, she could see past the eyes of the decapitated head and, faintly, she could see what appeared to be the shape of a human.

“Someone's inside it.” She whispered, and heads rose to peer at the beast again.
“So? It ate someone.”
“And died for it. Whoever it is is venomous.”
“Eating venomous things doesn't make your head pop off, Terec.”
“What are you doing?”
Enoch had risen onto her feet and climbed over the sand dune, approaching the head slowly. It never moved. Never breathed. Every few steps, Enoch paused to look it over, waiting for any sort of change of shift in its appearance, but nothing ever moved.

When she was close enough, Enoch stuck her foot out and tapped the muzzle of the head, then at once retreated a few paces, anticipating its ire. But again, it never moved. So Enoch stepped forward again and nudged it once more, boldly leaning her foot against it and thrusting her weight against it. Nothing. So, even more boldly, she raised her ax and tapped it against the hard skin, tilting her head when it clanged.

Puzzled, she turned around and glanced at the others and shrugged, which made more rise up and step over the peek of the crater. Aarav stepped up beside Enoch and peered at the create curiously. “You're right, someone's inside.”
“Yeah.” She said, crouching down to peer into the eye at the man inside. He didn't look alive. He was still, and even as Enoch got on her knees and pressed her face to the see through scale, she couldn't see him breathing.

A hunter swung his ax against the back of the skull and Enoch jumped, the sound shaking her hands as she leaned on the head. “Warning!” She scolded, rising to her feet again. Aarav bent down instead and peered inside.
“Can we harvest it?”
“Why would we want to?”
“The God of the Hunt has given us a gift!”
“Or the God of Death has.”
“It could be poisonous.”
“It might not be.”
“Are you going to try it?”
Someone else clanged their weapon against the skull, and Aarav knocked his knuckles against the see through scale as Enoch wandered around the head. For some reason, she didn't feel threatened or alarmed by it.

“Its not for eating.” She said after she'd walked entirely around it.
“How do you know?”
“Its not an animal. Look.” Enoch tapped the side with her hand. “Its made of metal. Like my mother's battle ax.”
“Metal?”
“A metal skull?”
“Is there a metal, headless beast?”
A few of the I'nik's looked up at the sky, paranoid.
“No, look,” Sadr said, tapping the see through scale. “There's someone inside. Its like a hut.”
“A metal hut?”
“What purpose is there for that?”
“It's gone and killed him.”
“Get him out.”
“How?”
Aarav knocked on the scale again. “This doesn't feel too strong. Maybe we can break it.”
“And then what? He's too big to fit through the little hole.”
“Maybe he'd be able to breathe,” Aarav defended, pounding on the scale until Enoch offered him her ax, and he stepped back and began swinging.

Fuma pushes his orange bangs off his smooth mask.

I should intercede with his pursuers... Rai never fails to get tracked down here.

He heads toward the barricaded door. Before he makes it there, his existence decomposes to that of black swirling energy that seeps through the crack of the door, goofy mask morphing into two red orbs for eyes. He vanishes into the hostile surrounding area.

Fuma regains his boyish composition under the blackened clouds, and stops at the edge of the cliff that drops vastly down a few yards from the base. His eyes sweep the land from behind his mask.

Nothing TOO alarming... Some flashes on the horizon.. I should really go check that out.

He takes a few steps back... and runs toward the drop off at full tilt. Fuma jumps off the edge as misty black shadows engulf his boots. It expands and laces completely around his body, taking the murky black form of a personal fighter jet. The shadows move at his command, and his craft accelerates into the black sky. He seems to vanish, as the shadow energy blends with the charred atmosphere.

Wooooo. Off I go.

Derek quietly made his way back to the skylight with ease. A quick throw of a grappling hook had him shortly gathering his gear back together and resealing the skylight. It took a little extra time, but Derek was usually not one to be careless. At least so long as the gain didn't outweigh the risks. Derek leaped off the roof, and activated his glider. He needed to think about his next move.

It was strange. When it came to a heist, Derek was known to get a excited, but never enough to get in the way of his plans. However, for some reason he felt an urgency. Every fiber of his being told him he needed to make this heist tonight. But that was absurd. Rashin R&D was one of the most heavily guarded facilities in the city, not counting corporate black-sites. No matter how much he tried, though, he couldn't shake the feeling he needed to strike tonight. And no self-respecting thief ignored a gut feeling that strong.

Derek landed atop a skyscraper and pulled out his communicator. Even though it had some of the best encryption an enterprising thief could buy, Derek still didn't trust wireless communication. Derek took a moment to note how paranoid he was, before brushing it off as he always did. Not one time in his career was his paranoia ever unjustified. Still, his gut feeling urged him on, as he called up Myles.
"Well, if you're actually calling me at this time of night, you really...." Myles quipped before Derek cut him off.
"Can it. I don't have much time. I need everything you got on Rashin R&D. Building plans, pass codes, security measures, everything!"

Myles burst into absolute laughter. "Really? That's sudden. What's the occasion, want to stop in and say hello to security? You lose a bet or something?" Derek didn't say anything. Myles suddenly stopped laughing.
"Oh my god you're serious, aren't you?"
"Yep."
"Why? WHY?!" Myles screamed into the communicator. "Are you insane? Even with a week of preparation it would be insanely difficult. What convinced you you need to break in TONIGHT?! And if you say 'thief's intuition' I am going to...."
Derek cut him off again. "You mean to tell me that the best contact in the city can't do me a solid just once in his career? I thought you could crack the secrets of ANYWHERE?"

There was a long pause. Myles sighed through the communicator. "Fine. I'll have something for you around 1 A.M. But you need to get the gear yourself, and be at the site as soon as I get back to you. Though I'd like to know why you want to do this."
Derek waited for a bit, before finally coming up with a reason that wouldn't make his best friend want to punch him in the mouth. To be honest, as much of an excuse it was, it made him grin.
"Call it my magnum opus," he said, before hanging up.

Derek paused as he put away his gear. Something felt off about the night. He could swear he felt like he was being watched. If he wasn't being pushed on by his intuition, he honestly would have locked himself down in one of his safe houses for the night. Not one to pause for too long, though, Derek flew off to gather his fancier gear from his other contacts.

Rai wakes up groggy and still feeling half asleep. He decides he's had enough rest for the time being and goes looking for Fuma to debrief from his earlier scouting mission. He searchs the entire base but he can't seem to find a single trace of Fuma.

"Where the crap is he, I'm actually ready to debrief and he's of doing who knows what"

He decides to go work on his motercycle while waiting on Fuma. He has to make sure his bike is in top shape for his next mission, whenever that may be. He notices a bunch of new scrapes and dings.

"Dangit, that's what I get for trying to get back here is a rush"

He grabs his tools and gets to work.

Marcus awoke to him walking in an idyllic landscape something seemed, off. He made a quick look down to his right arm, it was still there, his companion's hand was still clasped around his bicep.

"You stopped, what's up?"

He stood silent for a few seconds, slightly confused.

"Marcus?"

Memory came back, it made sense now, he was just daydreaming.

"Nothing, just thinking"

"You've been thinking a lot"

He chuckled internally, for someone born without sight, Mary was deceptively perceptive.

"So, now that you've stolen me away to here, wasn't there something you wanted to ask me?"

Blind as she was, she still knew exactly where they were, the same hill they'd first met, when he'd literally crashed into her. All those years ago. He could tell that she also knew precisely why he'd taken her here, they'd danced around it for so long.

He turned to look at her, and that's when he noticed the cracks on her face

Almost as if it had turned into a human shaped pane of glass, there were jagged incisions, all revealing a deep void underneath the flesh, she impatiently opened her mouth to say something, but all sound that came out was the scream of crystal giving way.

He opened his eyes.

The pod was embedded into a bank, and he could hear chatter, a strange sound unfamiliar to him, but it was clear that it was a language of some sort. Light greeted him as it spilled in from the shattered acrylic panes. A series of dull thumps could be heard, it was clear that whatever was out there wanted in.

Not on his watch

He triggered the emergency bolts on the front of the pod, triggering the canopy to blast off with explosive force. As soon as it was clear he generated an intensely bright flash of light in front of him as he clambered out and onto the sand. Then he shifted his power and cast a dark gloom over him, lengthening out his shadow and causing the general ambiance to darken considerably. With his mind he reached out and touched their open thoughts, scanning their language and forming an understanding of it.

"Who dares" he said simply, his voice boomed as it projected from the gloom. Hoping to scare off the locals so he could search for the new Archon

Rhonda’s story had grown more outrageous than the first time Deidre had heard it. “It started when I went to the lotto station. I was going to get my ticket—I play the mega lotto jackpot like it’s no-one’s business, and the idiot behind the counter printed out the wrong ticket. I wanted the numbers 08-16-29-3B for my birthday and old apartment number.” She glanced over towards Deidre, wondering if the young girl was going to call bullshit on the age that the woman had labeled herself. She sure as hell wasn’t 29, and last time she told the story, it had been a bit outlandish to suggest that she was in her mid 30’s.

Deedee didn’t care if Rhonda wanted to make herself sound more youthful, though, and merely nodded her head slightly to show that she was still listening. “…So here I am, walking out of the station with two tickets in hand, when this car comes flying by. One of my tickets is ripped from my hand, and goes flying across the street. I look both ways, being the conscientious citizen I am, and then make my way across the road to get my ticket. Because… Of course, the one that flew out of my hand was the one I had actually wanted to buy when I went in the blasted place. Anyway, there is a light nearby so the traffic is stopped anyway. I am just a few steps away when a car pulls up and blocks it completely. Now, I am a pretty even-tempered person,” –she said this flinging her fork in the air, and sending a small bit of food out in another direction. Deedee followed the piece of mashed potato and then looked back to her roommate, chuckling quietly to herself at the prospect of her roommate being anything like even-tempered.

“But even I had grown a little frustrated at the fact that the…thick-striped potbelly simply HAD to get a couple inches closer to the red light.” She let out an exasperated sigh and took a sip of the drink in front of her. The younger one, Penny, looked utterly confused, as did Lola. This story was…completely different from some of the other ones they had heard from Rhonda before. Perhaps she was simply arrested for being a compulsive liar…
“How did you know the driver was thickly striped?” Penny asked, speaking up. Rhonda’s death glare sufficiently shut her up, however, and the not-29-year-old continued. Her story went on, such that she asked the driver very politely if the vehicle could move so that she could get her ticket. And according to this version, the driver screamed at her and called her a useless blank slate. It was a rather harsh insult, and Rhonda went so far as to whisper when it came time to translate the man’s words. Lola raised one eyebrow skeptically, but Rhonda’s were threatening to escape her head entirely. She nodded solemnly, as if it pained her to cast the higher-tiered man in such a negative light.

“I don’t know what compelled him to speak such harsh words, I really cannot say. I began to back away from the driver’s side of the car, when my foot slipped a bit in a puddle. I reached out to steady myself so I didn’t fall, and my hand must have grazed the wax coating on his custom-painted vehicle. And that man…simply lost his mind. He pulled out a crowbar, and started chasing me around his car. In trying to strike me, he hit his own car over and over again.”

“Where did he get the crowbar, Rhonda?” Deedee hadn’t meant to interrupt, but even she was perplexed by all this. The rest of the table was as well, silent in suspense/disbelief/a little of both.

Rhonda turned to Deedee with a slightly condescending gaze, as if to say that Deirdre simply wasn’t grown-up enough to understand these things. “You don’t keep a crowbar in the driver’s side of your car?” She asked.

Deidre’s eyes narrowed a little, having a difficult time gauging how serious her roommate was. “No… I don’t believe that I did…” She said slowly.

“Well you should have, considering what you were doing before you were arrested.” She scoffed.

Deidre opened her mouth to respond, meanwhile Rhonda opened her mouth to continue her never-ending story. Neither of them were able to speak, however, because a loud beeping sound let everyone know that the time for dinner was over, and they were to return to their rooms. “Guess we will have to finish this…next time. Gives you something to look forward to, hun.” She tapped Penny on the cheek and then hopped up, making her way over to the exit for people heading back to cell block C. Deidre shrugged slightly before turning to join her roommate. No point in upsetting the thick-stripes here by being slow to return… especially if she wanted to keep some of the few privileges she had here.

Many of them stepped away from the skull as Aarav and a few others started swinging at the glass. It was thick and unforgiving. Aarav paused some swings in and pulled off his quiver and tossed it aside to put more effort into the swings. Enoch crouched near to top of the crater, her arms folded on her knees, torn between wanting the beast's dinner out of his maws and concern for her bone ax. It was replaceable, sure, but she wouldn't be able to go hunting until it was replaced. What would she do without hunting?

She could use a bow. Her eyes fell to the quiver Aarav had discarded for his task. Her archery was good, but ranged hunting wasn't her thing. She liked to be acknowledged as the hunter by her kills. Hunting by archery felt like thievery, to her.

There was the sound of something shattering, and Enoch blinked herself back into attention. Aarav had broken through the sea through scale, and was peering through. “It's cool inside.”
“Cool?” Another I'nik paused in her swinging at the monster and approached the hole Aarav had made. Aarav leaned close to it and sniffed. “What's it smell like?”
“Not a mouth.”
“Let me smell?”
“Hang on!” Aarav said, swinging Enoch's ax again in order to make the hole larger.

Enoch caught the slight movement of the man within the beast's mouth, and she rose quickly, lifting Aarav's bow in her hands. “He's moving!” She hissed, as everyone was paying more attention to the hole in the creature than the man within. They moved back just before the monster's hard skin popped away with a loud and very strange noise. The I'nik's shouted in alarm and raised their weapons in defense, only to shield their eyes and back up as light blinded them.
“Goddess of Light!” Someone swore, Enoch could barely hear as she wrapped her arm around her face to block out the light. She scoot backwards up the dune behind her, the blinding figure no longer the target for the arrow she had dropped.

Then just like that, it faded, and it was no longer blinding, but darker, like the light was unable to touch it. The figure stood tall beside the unmoving skull of the bodiless beast. Enoch lowered her arm and still blinked, half-glaring at the figure.

“You speak our tongue?” One of the more seasoned warriors asked. His voice was muffled to Enoch, but she was sure it was Siel, one of the tanners. “Who are you?”
“He controlled the light,” Bhu gasped. “He is Orphanim embodied!”
“No!” Another said. “He beckons shadows! He is Adriel!”
“How can he be both?” A third asked.
“He can't.” Aarav snapped, standing beside Enoch. He glared at the stranger is deep distrust, Enoch's ax tight in his hand. “What are you, stranger? What beast did you slay?” He gestured to the skull behind the dark figure.

“Are you a God?” Enoch asked, earning a huff from Aarav. “Surely, you are not Orphanim, Goddess of Light. You are no woman.”
“Nor can he be Adriel!” Aarav said again. “Why has he not answered? Speak, Skull Rider!”
He raised Enoch's ax again in gesture, and Enoch reached over him and yanked it from his grasp. “Stop yelling at the Goddess.”
“Its not the Goddess!”
“Well, stop swinging my ax at her just in case you're wrong.”
Aarav gave her a deep leer and picked up his bow in answer, slinging his quiver over his shoulder as he looked back toward the figure in the center of the sand crater.