Ascension Chapter 10- The Butterfly Effect

Sorry guys! This one's a bit of a doozy! I won't ask you to read all of this and review it all, but if you want to review what you did manage to read, I'll gladly take that.

CHAPTER X THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

Edress 15, 326

Helm Medrik saw light once more as the trunk opened. He strained his eyes, saw that it was night time, and that above him was a lamp post. Two men stood in the darkness, staring down at him with eyes he couldn't see. Rain fell softly on his face.

He tensed, feeling the cords around his wrists biting into his skin.

One of the men spoke, his voice like gravel in a dark pit far below the surface. "Get out."

With some forcing, they got him out of the car and onto his feet. He could barely discern their shapes; Whether or not from the bullet wound in his leg or from the night itself, he couldn't tell.

In front of him was a undecorated, ordinary phone booth, with an open door.

The other man walked inside of the booth, and placed a tiny circular device on the wire; The booth shuddered with electronic vibrations, then was still.

Then the man dialed a number into it. He waited for a moment, a moment that felt like an eternity to Helm. Then, Helm heard a tiny voice come through the receiver. The man holding it nodded.

The man stepped out and his partner shoved Helm in; Helm slammed against the back wall, falling onto his knees. He felt blood start to trickle down his forehead.

The gravel-voiced man spoke once more. "Pick up the phone."

With slow, trembling hands, Helm managed to reach and grab the phone, despite his arms being bound. The ringing on the receiver stopped. "Hello."

Helm's heart rate skyrocketed. "Hello."

The voice answered him on the other line; It was two different tones, one a higher pitch and the other gutturally deep... It was probably modulated. "Hello." It said again.

"Who is this?"

"Do not trouble yourself with that detail. It will be useless to you soon. Tell me what you saw at the Manor."

"Why? Why should I tell you anything?"

"Do, or do not. I really don't care. The gun pointed at the back of your head right now doesn't either."

Helm did not turn around to confirm this, but he took the stranger's word. "I saw... A beast. It looked like a mech, but moved and fought like a man. And a girl... With silver hair. She became... Like that thing. A monster. I-"

Helm didn't hear the gun go off.

***

The Lord Clad In Light hung up the phone. He pondered the information given to him as he watched the movie screen; In his personal theater, he had every movie ever made, right at his fingertips.

On the screen, a dark-haired woman was sitting in a car on a rainy night, clad in a white trench coat and smoking a cigarette, ignoring the man leaning into the open car door.

"You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-You-Are? You're chicken. You've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, 'Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love..."

The Lord's butler bowed and turned to leave. The Lord gestured for him to remain.

"Not yet, Chancel. One more call must be made."

"...You call yourself a free spirit, a 'wild thing', and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself." On the screen, emotion broke in Audrey Hepburn's wide, grey eyes.

***

Durl hung up the phone, his hands shaking.

Outside, the arctic winds of Borealis tore at the windows. He peered down at Block B through the bullet-proof window of the security kiosk; at the the cells holding a dozen men each. Some were rapists, some were big-time drug traffickers, others were terrorists with extreme ideologies and methodologies, but most of them were just men. Men who had broken the most taboo laws and sent north to mine ice for the rest of their lives.

They were like canisters of fuel, waiting for the next flame to set them alight.

Do they really deserve to be free? I wonder.

He glanced at his partner, a young man with slicked back brown hair and an impudent smirk. His partner returned his gaze.

"What was that about?"

"The gods walk the world once more. I must do what must be done."

His partner blinked. "The hell are you talking about, Durl? Who was that on the phone?"

Durl didn't answer. Instead, he drew his pistol and shot his partner in the heart. The young guard, probably the son of some mainland lord, wore a permanent expression of alarm as his life's blood poured onto his guard uniform.

Shoving him out of the chair, Durl sat at the console and pressed the hundreds of buttons with a sleight of hand.

The cells slid open, and a sea of orange poured out almost instantly; The inmates were shouting, shoving, throwing eachother over the guard rails to die three stories below. A bear-kin roared as men dug fingers into his fur, mounting him and stabbing him with makeshift knives. He bucked them off and they too went over the guard rail.

Then Durl pulled the switch to his right, and opened the door to Cell Block B. The prisoners were a raging river of flesh and blood, as the guards behind the door were caught unaware. Gunshots rang out, a few inmates vanished under the stampede... Nevertheless, the guards were overtaken, then their broken corpses were held up and paraded down to the other blocks.

After climbing several stairs, Durl approached the Warden's office, as the apocalypse broke loose around him. The floor was slick with blood and toppled with corpses, and yet no-one attacked him or indeed, even seem to notice him. Perhaps the inmates knew it was he who had freed them. Perhaps they saw the pump shotgun at his waist, hanging in a non-threatening manner.

Or perhaps the Makers had blessed his path for this last, terrible trial.

He pressed the intercom button, and drew in his breath. He did his best to emulate panic and anguish.

"Sir! Please help me! They've overrun B and C blocks! Sir, please!"

No answer from the intercom.

"Sir! It's Durl! Your nephew, Durl!"

The door slid open, and Durl stepped inside before the inmates saw and rushed towards him. Their fists hammered on the bulkhead as Durl looked around the handsomely furnished room.

Durl's uncle, the Warden Falyuus, peeked out from behind the wooden desk, his bald pate laden with sweat. "What in the blazes is going on out there, Durl? Weren't you in charge of B?"

"I was." Durl unslung the shotgun, pumped, and leveled it at Falyuus. "Stand up."

Falyuus stood up shakily, raising his hands above his head. "W...what is this?"

"Shut up and come here."

Falyuus obeyed. As he drew close, Durl grabbed him by the collar and shoved him towards the door. Falyuus cried out hysterically.

"Durl, why are you doing this? You haven't taken a bribe from one of those... scum, have you? Whatever they're offering you, I'll double it. I'll triple it."

"I do this not for greed. But for the truth."

Ignoring Falyuus' screams, Durl opened the bulkhead. It slid open, and a swarm of enraged inmates grabbed him by the clothes and pulled him away.

Falyuus reached out a hand, and Durl took it.

The bulkhead's doors closed with a soft hiss, catching Falyuus' arm in it; The bones shattered and the sinew tore apart, spraying blood over the expensive carpet and wallpaper.

He could almost hear the screams outside. Almost.

Durl approached the back of the room, and moved aside an oil painting of the Queen, revealing a sleek metal wall with a small, hand shaped console in the center.

Durl took the severed hand and placed the palm against the console.

The console flashed green, and a pleasant female voice greeted him. "Authorization complete. Welcome, Mr. Falyuus."

The wall slid away to reveal a square room lit overhead by a flourescent lamp. An elevator. Durl stepped inside and pressed an unmarked green button. The doors closed, and the elevator jerked to life.

He rode it down, down, for what felt like eternity. Twenty minutes had passed before he the elevator came to a stop.

The doors opened, revealing a dark, dripping room carved from ice. A single light source cut through the darkness, spotlighting a lone man. He was naked, and emeciated, with a tremendous silver beard flowing down to hide his extremities. His white hair flowed on the ground behind him, uncut for many years.

He was chained by his arms to two iron posts on either side. He hung in midair, his skeletal legs dangling below him. The hilt of a colossal sword stood out from his torso, the blade that stuck out from his back nearly touching the floor.

Durl was overcome with fervor. He fell to his knees, and prayed to the Makers, praised them for giving him this chance.

Then he stood, ready. Raising the shotgun, he aimed, and blasted the chains apart. The blast reverberated throughout the icy chamber, then fell silent. The figure toppled onto his knees, but did not fall.

Then Durl placed a hand on the figure's bony shoulder, and with a tremendous effort drew the blade from the prisoner's chest. It emerged, coated in fresh, steaming blood.

Then the figure opened his eyes, and screamed.

He writhed and thrashed on the ground, as his body began to take shape; The bones vanished under rolling muscles, and the skin became bright, and healthy. The man clutched at his chest, crying out in rage and pain.

Durl caught a glimpse of a heart, beating hard and fast behind a pearly white ribcage. Then the wound closed, as if it had never truly been there.

The man sat up, breathing hard, and then he looked at Durl, his eyes confused and filled with animalistic savagery. "Where the fuck am I?"

"Borealis, Your Grace."

"Borealis...?" The figure stood in all of his glory, once a shade of a person, now a full-bodied study of evolution at work. His rheumy eyes regained color, and knowledge seemed to take form. "Alnora. I'm in Alnora. "

"Yes, Your Grace. Here, your blade."

The man took it, and looked at it. He then turned his gaze to Durl.

"And who are you?"

"I am no-one, My Lord. A willing servant, that is all. My name will mean nothing soon. Do you remember your name?"

The ancient being looked down, struggling to think. "My name... is Haku. Haku Feldman."

"Yes." Durl beamed, overflowing with happiness. "I have been tasked to free you from imprisonment, and I have succeeded. Do you see that box over there, Your Grace? That is called an elevator, and it will take you to the surface."

"I know what a fucking elevator is." Haku grumbled and shoved past him. "I wasn't born yesterday."

He took a few steps, and half-turning, he spoke half-apologetically. "Uh... What are you doing with that hand?"

"...Nothing that need concern Your Grace."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever."

Durl watched him as Haku left, his river of silvery hair flowing behind him. Durl thought to say something, but thought better of it. The elevator doors closed, and he drew his pistol, and raised it to his temple.

Then, after a long moment of hesitation, Durl pulled the trigger. The muzzle flashed, and in that instant Durl's life played out before his eyes like a movie. He paused a moment on a conversation from his childhood.

Fader, why do the men in the village say Armaea is the only god?

They are ignorant, boy. None know the real truth of the Makers. Especially my fool brother, Falyuus. There are many Makers, but there is only one who should rule this land.

Who is that, Fader?

The True King of Alnora. The King of Blades, and Fader of the World. Haku Feldman.

He then watched the rest of the film.

***

Haku found himself in an office, the decorative style quite familiar to him and yet eerily unique. His brain was working in overdrive, reassembling and reordering too much data to properly control. He needed to sit a moment and take it all in.

He sat on a chair, and thought about how long it had been since he sat in an office chair. How long had it been?

C'mon man. Think. Okay... That's a radio. A lamp. A ceiling fan. Ink pens. Softcover books...Post-industrial?

He strained to remember what had happened before. Before the long, dark slumber devoid of inner conciousness.

He glanced at the sword, which he had leaned against the wall.

After a moment, he stood and reached for his sword, then caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the metal doors in front of him. He looked like a half-man, half-broom.

Gathering up the tangle of hair, Haku raised the sword, and cut clean through six feet of hair without effort. Then, carefully, he cut off about four feet of beard.

He was left with a tangle of chest length hair and a bushy Santa Claus beard (another random memory), but a closer shave with the sword would be an assured decapitation. Decapitation was entirely unpleasant.

Haku moved on to the console to the right of the doors. There was a single button, metal and circular. He strained his eyes at the four characters on the placard, unable to discern a single one.

Open

Above it was a depiction of two white boxes moving away from eachother, with arrows pointing in opposite directions- oh my god it says "open". It's a bulkhead, you dumbass. He slammed his palm on it, hard.

The creeping feeling of deja vu became overwhelming as the bulkheads slid open, revealing a hallway crowded with men in orange jumpsuits. A prison. Because those worked so well in America, right Tania?

As he stepped out, naked as the day he was born, and carrying a sword two inches taller than he was, the prisoners stood aside. It became deathly silent in that hallway.

"Where's the way out?"

A tiger-kin male with wide shoulders and huge, yellowing fangs spoke first. Haku saw the flash of a tattoo on his tongue; A black human skull. "You leave this place in a body bag, humie. Sniper towers for miles around, landmines in the ice, and an Emmay patroling the front gate. Not to mention frozen death for leagues in any direction. Nobody escapes Boar's Eye Penitentiary."

"Sorry... Er, what's an Emmay?"

"Stands for Mobile Artillery, as in Mobile Artillery Suit. How long you been locked up, humie?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. As for the Emmay, I think I know what you're talking about. That's why I carry this." Haku pointed at his blade, and they marveled at it. "If you can get me to the front gate, I probably won't kill all of you. And gimme some goddamn clothes."

***

With a posse of escapees at his back, Haku followed the signs until he was in a huge chamber, fifty to sixty meters tall and just about the same width. A loading bay. Instead of crates of freight, there were cages large enough for convicts to be lifted into the airlocks above by unmanned cranes installed into the upper levels. The fighting in the loading bay was reaching fever pitch, with the acrid smell of blood, shit and smoke filling Haku's nostrils.

Then he saw it, standing immobile by one of the bay doors, and more memories burned in his brain, as if with etched with a sauldering gun. The thing was gargantuan, compared to what Haku saw behind his eyes like a billion-pixel screenshot.

He remembered swords, iron shields, burning pitch, cobble streets, horse-drawn carriages, stone furnaces.

Instead of personal armor, the humans had invented something like a steam-powered armor, with the assistance of archaeological "mages". It allowed the person within to do untold amounts of damage, though the weaponry and technology was limited at the time to what they knew. Swords. Steel plate. Steam power (which they had discovered pretty early on, actually). Iron shields. "Magic".

Of course, someone had to up the ante. Someone had to invent gunpowder, and firearms. He saw them everywhere now, littered around the ground and in the arms of terrified guards and frenzied escapees alike. And the ones built into the mech by the loading bay doors were large enough to crush ten men in single file.

Jesus Christ. This nightmare creation appeared to be this era's homage to German Panzer tank. The snow-camouflaged armor plating was thick, with several plates built angling outward along the front and sides, probably best to deflect and disperse explosives and projectiles. Man-sized booster engines were built into the starboard, port, and aft sections of the main vehicle.

The entire upper half looked like it had been put together from spare parts. It's upper half was a cylindrical torso like a car, beset by enormous shoulders, both arms bolted to guns with four barrels and a box magazine the size of a horse. Wrapping around the side of its bucket-like head was a medley of tiny, glistening instruments; Either cameras, heat signature scanners, or a combination of the two.

It was inert, he saw; Prisoners had climbed it and were banging on the cockpit hatch with pipes and the butts of guns.

As he stepped to look closer at it, it moved. The upper body swiveled up and out of the treads, the hydraulics whirring and complaining. Floodlights came on, blinding in the dim dark of the loading bay. The upper half turned, bringing the chainguns to bear, while the treads screeched and the lower half turned haphazardly to the right, slamming into a mob of inmates.

The barrels started spinning, the sound a grating screech in Haku's ears. Then it aimed at him, and fired.

He dove to his right, rolled, and hit the ground running at a ninety degree angle. He didn't turn around to see if the escapees were following. Boosters thrummed to life, The mech spun in place, and Haku felt wind at his back.

He ducked, and swung his sword into the air.

Sparks shot from above, bathing his skin in hot stabs of pain. Metal screeched and parted, and the mech's forearm came free, flying through the air from the momentum of the mech's swing. It crashed into a stack of crates, inmates screaming and grasping at the bars as they went down.

The ground thundered as the thrusters turned on, the mech rocketing sidelong and slamming into Haku with the treads. He gripped on, as the machine swayed to and fro.

He's panicking. Probably a good time to take advantage.

The treads screeched, the thrusters sputtered and eventually the mech screeched to a complete stop. Haku couldn't help but laugh as he shimmied up the treads, sprinted over the hull of the tank, and brought his sword up to cut clean through the midsection.

The tank-half took off on its own, the torso slamming hard into the floor. The arms appeared to be in free-fall for a moment, before they too, came crashing down to earth. Haku jumped off of the vehicle, thumped onto the ground, and watched as it crashed with a deafening roar into a security office on the right side.

Haku stood up, and was suddenly aware of the stillness. Up to a moment ago, the air had been rife with screams and chanting, but now it was akin to the inside of a coffin.

All eyes were on him. The fighting had come to an utter stand still as captive and captor slowly walked towards him. A red mist flowed along the edge of his blade, made of tiny countless particles no bigger than a grain of sand, luminous and enthralling.

Come to think of it, where did I get this sword?

A voice spoke in his head; Sinister, calculating, and frozen solid.

I have always been here. I am you. And you are me.

Then he noticed something was off... He felt as if he had left something behind, or simply dropped it. Then he noticed the stump of his arm, and noted it had been blown off at the elbow. Ragged red strips hung from the stump, dripping ruby red onto a puddle of maroon below.

Allow me to fix that for you.

Electricity crackled in the air, and converged on the stump, condensing to form bones; Glowing wires crisscrossed to form sinew, and pale skin wrapped over, sealing the intricate machinery of the human body from prying eyes.

He flexed his new hand, satisfied.

Thanks. Who are you?

You may call me Baphomet.I am your sword.

...Literally? You're literally my sword?

There was an astounded silence for a moment.

...Well, yes. I meant it in the figurative sense, but yes. I am the sword you are
currently holding.

Neat.

"He took down that M.A. with nothing but a sheet of metal," someone whispered from the crowd.

"Never seen anything like it," said another.

A shirtless, muscled man covered in tattoos from head to toe, fell before Haku on his knees. "The legends are true! All hail The King Of Gods!"

"I'm going to stop you right there, bud. I am not a King, and I am not a God. What I am is incredibly pissed off." Haku turned to walk away as the bulkheads opened, letting in a piercing wind that sent the escapees reeling.

No-one followed.

Despite the wind, the air was perfectly clear, and Haku could see ribbons of aurora borealis above him. This place was aptly named.

Frost-bitten metal walls surrounded the parade grounds on all sides, broken here and there with high towers wrapped around with thick double-plated steel. They were all occupied, as were the parade grounds.

Floodlights poured on him from a barricade of trucks and mechs. Men stood behind both, with rifles trained at the slightest movement. Someone shouted at him through a megaphone.

"Turn around and return to your cell!"

Haku gave him the one finger salute, an ancient form of sign language long lost to this world. "No, you fuck off."

He heard guns clattering, bolts being drawn back, barrels accelerating- Then Haku heard a sizzling in the air.

The barricade was consumed by a hail of missiles from above; Plumes of snow shot into the night, followed by blasts of shrapnel and hellfire. Men screamed, and then were silent as quickly as the attack had come.

Haku gripped his sword tight, and looked up.

Through the smoke he could see a shape in the clouds, dark and ominous. It was rectangular, and was suspended in the air by huge rotors; Then he realized that was what he was hearing in the background, as three more shapes came roaring from the west and circled the parade grounds once. They too were rotorcraft of some make, extremely sophisticated and powerful, armored in black steel and fiberglass.

They extended landing gear, and the twin rotors beat at the ground, fanning the flames of the ruin. A man stepped out from the center rotorcraft, and approached Haku calmy and deliberately, watching Haku cautiously.

He was young, perhaps in his early fourties. A slick of finely cut black hair framed his angular features, while unnervingly green eyes peered out from under thick eyebrows. He was clad in a black over-check jacket, and blue slacks. He looked almost like a cardboard cut-out of a character from a Prohibition Era-themed T.V. show. The man's appearance was so off-putting Haku had completely forgotten what he had to say.

He glanced at the fire, then at the prison behind Haku, as if assessing the damage, then bowed.

"If you would follow me, Mr. Feldman?"

"Depends. Are those things safe?"

The man smiled. "I see you've retained a sense of humor."

"I'm guessing you already know who I am." Haku raised his sword for the man to see. "And what I'm capable of."

"Of course, Mr. Feldman. It was why we freed you, after all."

"Who's we?"

The man gestured for Haku to step on the rotorcraft. "We have much catching up to do, Mr. Feldman. But time is money, and we are going bankrupt."

I don't trust him, Baphomet growled.

Well, me either, but I'm not sticking around to see who else wants to give us a ride.

Haku sat on one of the metal seats, and stared at a soldier seated across from him. He held what looked to Haku like a submachine gun, with an unusually advanced targeting system. It was impossible to tell if the soldier was even looking at Haku, due to the opaque black visor over his face.

"Who's this guy?" Haku hitched his thumb at the soldier.

"He is nobody, Mr. Feldman. Isn't that right, GRG?"

The soldier said nothing.

The panels closed, and the rotorcraft lifted off the snow, and flew out of the smoke and fire.

"That thing up there... is that your...ship?" Haku felt his ears pop from the sudden altitude change.

"Yes. You'll be aboard shortly; Worry not."

"That's what I'm worried about."

Haku looked down at the ice below, and at the prison. It was an enormous structure build into the side of a mountain, with perimeter fences surrounding it like the rings of a tree trunk.

As he stared at the prison, he saw it erupt in a ball of flame, the shockwave rocking the rotorcraft back and forth. The flame shot upwards, and dimmed, leaving behind a mushroom-shaped cloud of debris blowing away in the harsh winds.

"Was that really necessary?" Haku asked plainly.

The man with the green eyes glanced at him, his expression as somber as a gravestone. "The just will prevail, and the corrupt will burn. Isn't that something you once said?"

I think you're misattributing that quote to someone else. Just or corrupt, you all burn the same way to me. Haku watched as the flames turned to a tiny patch of light on the ground far below.

***

The ride had been mostly silent, except for the few times when Haku asked for details about the world in its current state.

Post-industrial. Global trade. Travel by land, air, or sea.

A shrinking middle class.

Religious wars.

Genocide.

The same disease all over again.

"And this Queen? Who is she?"

"She is Armaea Tillarand, an immortal like you. How much do you remember before being imprisoned?"

Is that what Tania calls herself these days?

"I remember a lot of things... But then there's holes, or things I can't see by looking directly, if that makes sense. How long have I been out?"

The man straightened his tie, and sighed. "There is some debate amongst historians of the actual date, but the general amount of time agreed upon is three hundred and fourty eight years."

"Three hundred and..." Haku stopped, whipping his head around as if trying to dislodge a facehugger from the Alien movies. As far as he was concerned, three hundred years was not an especially large amount of time. He had seen three hundred years go by, and much more, without much change, many times before in the past. But to be imprisoned under the earth with his own sword through his chest... That was one year too many.

A flash of laughing blue eyes and brilliant, silver hair.

"What happened to Lynn Cho?"

The man looked at him with a quizzical expression. "I'm sorry, who?"

Haku shook his head, and snapped fingers, trying to reach at the name. "Aelia. Aelia Marlotta."

"You speak of the God Empress Aelia? The first ruler to unite Alnora?"

"Yeah, her. 'Course, I only knew her as Lynn. We used to hook up sometimes, before she decided she wanted to rule the world."

His escort smirked. "Yes... I... can see how that becomes a problem."

Haku tensed up, and felt a searing sensation in his nasal cavity. He looked as if he were about to break into sobbing, then sneezed with a shout sounding suspiciously like a four letter word for copulation.

"You sneeze like the rest of us, Mr. Feldman."

Haku snuffed and wiped his nose on the blood-stained prison shirt he wore. "What kind of crap is that? Yeah, I sneeze."

The man in the over-check jacket looked out the window, and suddenly it became dark; A shadow fell over the rotorcraft, as it decelerated. Haku felt the gravity go to his stomach as the rotorcraft climbed up.

It jerked to a sudden stop, then started to rotate slowly, pain-stakingly. After a moment, the rotorcraft stilled. GRG stood up and grasped a handle on the door, the hiss of decompressed air following it's movement. A squad of men armored in the exact same black visor and heavy duty combat vest greeted them, and snapped to attention.

They stepped out into a docking bay that was easily the size of the prison Haku had just left; Enormous fighter planes, bombers, and mobile artillery suits suspended by robotic cranes and holding beams. Next to the helo was a fearsome work of cold, calculated murder; a mechsuit armored in matte blue plate, complete with actual working arms and hands.

Haku glanced at the mech-suit, then at the man who had brought him here. A strange feeling, like a drop of ice water down the nape of his neck.

His escort dusted off his jacket. "If you'll follow me, Mr. Feldman, we will get you cleaned up and in good working order."

"Are you going to tell me your name?"

His escort paused, and turned, apparently puzzled. "I... could have sworn I did, Mr. Feldman. It's Nirath. Roland Nirath." He bowed curtly.

No. You never told me that. I would have remembered. He bit this back, and nodded. "So... You got showers in there?

Nirath smiled. "For you, Mr. Feldman? We have something better in mind."

Evidently, what Nirath had in mind involved serving girls. A lot of them. They were all young, and quite attractive, which was exactly the kind of shit Haku didn't need right now.

At least the shave had been somewhat comforting, in the fact that the burly man shaving off pounds of his filthy, matted hair didn't say a word. He had deftly and efficiently crafted Haku's new look, and cleaned his face. Haku hardly recognized himself in the mirror, testing the different angles.

His now-cropped white hair glistened in the lamp light over a strong set of pale, angular Asian features. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated. So this is what I look like under the broom.

The serving girls now cooed and giggled as they scrubbed his back and chest. When when girl reached underwater for his groin with a cloth, he grabbed her arm, shaking his head. "I'll do that part."

The entire affair seemed overly flashy, too cut-and-dried. Obviously if somebody digs up an immortal, they ought to offer him a bath first. But if the cackling of hens did nothing to ease his current mindset. The guy who picked him up ought to know better, with his clearly vast amount of wealth and knowledge.

Haku felt his eyebrows twitch. Where had be been picked up from?

He shrugged a girl off from his back. "Leave me. All of you."

With a despair-laden silence the girls departed, and Haku sighed, taking a cigarette out from a pack on the stand near the tub. He lit it, and took a drag, letting the warmth of the tub radiate throughout his being as he pondered.

What ever did happen to Lynn Cho?

His thoughts turned to Lynn Cho, her wicked grin of reborn youth, and the way it fell away into the darkness. At one point, he hadn't seen her face for a thousand years. Nor could he see his own hands, or the end of his nose; Perfect darkness, for a milennia. Who wouldn't go mad upon setting feet on another world and seeing the sun with eyes that had been blind for so long?

These bastards have no idea what we went through to get here. 

Then... Something gnawed at the back of his mind, like a spider fastened onto his brain, prodding at different sections to garner different reactions.

FELDMAN! WE MUST LEAVE! FELDMAN-

Haku awoke, his lungs rasping and struggling for air. The eyes. The goddamn green eyes. The man was watching him, as Haku roared in wordless fury. The searing light coming off of the man gave him an appearance of being on fire, about as easy to focus on as if he were the sun. Haku never took his eyes off of him.

He was bound again, and realized there was blood in his eyes. A burning light shone on him from above, as the man stood in the shadows without. His eyes gleamed, and Haku saw himself in them. Haku's scalp was cut away, and a machine hovered over it, a half dozen needles embedded in the soft flesh of his brain.

"The just will prevail, and the corrupt will burn." The Lord Clad in Light said.

As Haku blacked out, he saw the green eyes behind his eyelids, but only for an instant.

***

Haku awoke with a start, and grunted. He threw off his sleeping bag and sat up, rubbing the bridge of his nose. With a half-lidded gaze he saw dawn was approaching, refracting glinting stars off the frosty trees.

A fire smoldered in the makeshift pit, and empty cans of beans and sausages littered the ground nearby. He rummaged through his bag; He found a couple changes of clothes, a serrated knife, a pocketwatch, a compass, and a small brown satchel. In the satchel was a large wad of paper currency tied together with a piece of tape. Under the clothes, a gun was tucked away in a wrapped black cloth. Satisfied, he placed it back in the bag.

With the bag slung over his shoulder, he stepped out to a light snowfall, the ground itself a white powder. He looked around at the entrance of the cave above him, and saw graffiti scratched onto the rock with charcoal. It was a crown over the Terric characters for "blade"... King of blades.

He looked to his right, and was relieved to see that his grav-cycle was still where he had left it the previous night. She looked somewhat like a Harley Davidson from the World War era, with a few contemporary additions of its own- Where a back wheel should have been, there were two liftoff and six forward thrusters built into the rear half, forgoing traction for hot, nasty acceleration speed.

Instead of a singular front wheel, there were two, ecased in heavy-plated green armor. They were mostly there to keep the damn thing from flying headlong into a mountainside.

"Hey, sweetie. Hope you didn't catch a cold."

You speak to your vehicle as it is a person... Amusing, Baphomet remarked.

Well, I talk to you, and you're a gun.

Point taken.

After placing the bag inside the box trunk, he saddled the cycle and fit a helmet and mask over his face, then turned the key in the ignition. The liftoff boosters kicked up a cloud of powder and ice as Haku punched into first gear and took off down the forest trail, soaring along the highway.

Storm clouds converged over the Zurad'Urian Mountains, enveloping half of the Eastern skyline in their soundless fury. Another blizzard was coming, but Haku would long be out of the epicenter.

Lynn Cho waited somewhere over the horizon... Whether or not she was still Lynn Cho, or someone else entirely, he had no idea.

The accelerators kicked into full gear and Haku became the wind.