It's a stinking, shambling corpse grotesquely parodying life.
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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Sun Jan 18, 2004 7:57 pm 
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Location: Allentown, PA
=Cue—Ryan Adams-“I See Monsters”=

The wolf bit into his arm, sending rivulets of blood snaking down his wrist, dripping down and staining his white shirt. He grabbed the wolf’s neck and squeezed, forcing its jaws open. He tossed it away, rolling up off the sandy ground. Little particles fell out of his blond hair into his eyes, causing him to blink. The wolf was on him again. Calloused hands held back the gnashing teeth. He kicked, and the wolf was thrown away. Shaking his head, he got up and tackled the wolf as it jumped to strike again. They wrestled on the ground, neither getting the upper hand. More bite marks and blood spilled out of his body. More skin torn away from muscle, patches pulled from fur.

Up above, the lightning still circled the castle.

Kitsune paused. His eyes were closed, and his blonde hair whipped around his face. Just in front of him lay the last stretch of territory between himself and the castle . . . a huge expanse of sand, punctuated by the occasional comma of a crushed car or the exclamation points of skyscrapers . . . and he didn’t care anymore. So, that’s where Fold was. So, that’s where some of the Expatriates would die. So, that’s probably where he would die, having become a bloated, overbearing creation. Surprisingly, he found this didn’t bother him anymore. He felt comfortable just admiring the wonders that had been created.

There was vision in the chaos around him. Every upturned rock, every crushed building, every dream destroyed by the gesture of Fold’s hand, they all asked a single question of the brooding skies above: why did I exist, if this was all I was meant for? Yes, there was emotion in the motionless, static scenery.

Kitsune opened his eyes, smiling. He could feel the churning river beneath his feet, and it felt like the gentle swing of a cradle. “It’ll only be for a while. Relax. You’re in control. Reality only works in one direction these days.”

He took a step, and down




went his foot, and out




went each flake of sand, pushed to the side by his weight. Again, and he felt the sand spread out from his foot once more.

Kit felt the refreshing wind whip through the trees, heard the air whistle through broken windows, felt the clash of metal on metal. This was the order of things.

This was life. This was existence. The miniscule parts of the world, all working, and doing something. Kitsune bent down, picked up some sand, and examined it. Even the still, hesitant atoms within one grain of sand possessed the spark that made life what he could see.

=Cue—Funeral for a Friend-“The Getaway Plan”=

Both bleeding badly now, they circled warily, waiting for the other to make the first move. The wolf glared with almost human hatred at him. As he moved, he loosened up his shoulders and braced himself. The wolf struck first, knocking him back, but he rolled and got up. His left leg was torn to pieces, muscle hanging ragged from inside skin. He could barely stand, and it was only because of his will that he still fought. The wolf had lost its tail, and limped on its left front leg, where part of the shoulder and its ribs had been broken.

He smashed his fist into the wolf’s head, sending it crashing to the ground. The wolf leaped up and tore at his chest with its claws and teeth. Blood spattered across the sands.

Above their heads another battle was fought, between order and chaos. But down on the sands the battle was less distinct, merely two hearts tearing at each other in their unending quest for subjugation of some nameless other.

Kitsune didn’t need to hear the footsteps to know that there was another behind him. He had expected this.

All around swirled nameless futures, possible fates, and only one ever happened; with all that had happened, and all that was happening, it was child’s play to identify the sentence that would be written down, like the anonymous judgment of keystrokes. Nothing only lasts forever between one word

and the next.

“Hello, Wolf,” Kitsune said. He hadn’t known it was Wolf, but the name felt right. “You’re right on time.” Kit turned around. There stood Wolf, in his rumpled green field uniform.

“You smell different,” Wolf said. “Something changed.”

“You could say that,” Kitsune said. “I got better.”

“You’re hiding something.”

“Always have been, Wolf. About time you noticed.”

He thinks I’m an idiot, Wolf thought. I don’t have time for this shit. “Look, Kit, I don’t like being talked down to. You know what’s going on—it’s pretty damn obvious from how relaxed you’re acting, when the last time I saw you, you were broken.”

“I was nothing,” Kit said. “Just some fool who believed in a false god.”

Wolf stiffened. “What the hell?” He stepped closer. “You’ve switched sides?!”

Kitsune smiled, a slim, transcendental smile. “Believe whatever you want, Wolf,” he said. “In the end, it’s inevitable.” He looked Wolf in the eyes, faint boredom dancing across his face.

“You’re a coward.” Wolf tensed, then sprang.

Kitsune dodged, easily. “Every hour, every minute, every second you waste talking is another moment you could be spending doing what you came here to do,” he said. “If I’m on the opposing side, you have no choice but to stop me before things get worse.”

Wolf didn’t answer. He struck at Kitsune again. Kitsune didn’t block, and was knocked back and to the ground. Wolf said, “I should’ve followed my instincts and killed you when you were weak.”

“You didn’t.” Kitsune was up, standing in front of Wolf. He shoved Wolf backwards. “Will you do it now?” He let Wolf get up, barely even fazed. “It could be the last chance you have to make your point.”

=Cue—The New Radicals-“Someday We’ll Know”=

He slammed his fist into the wolf’s cheekbone, grabbed. It opened its mouth to chomp down on his fist, and his other hand darted in, then pulled down. The jaw tore loose from its muscles, hanging limp and useless from the wolf’s mouth. It struck at him with its front right paw, gashing his face, tearing an open hole in his cheek and exposing the skull underneath his hair, in an eerie match to the wound he had inflicted on the wolf.

He thrust his hands down the wolf’s throat and pulled outward. The body exploded across the sands. Once-yellow ground became tainted red.

His will was stronger.

It began. It lasted for some time. Then it ended. Somewhere in between, Wolf switched to his lupine form. It changed nothing.

Kitsune stood over the broken, torn corpse that was once an enemy, a friend . . . a life. He supposed, if anyone were there, they would have asked whether he felt any remorse, whether to celebrate life it was right to so cruelly take it. His answer, if they asked, would have been that life is only sacred to those who can take it away. If death were controlled, expected, painless, then it would feel like he had cheated himself.

But this was life. Things would move on in one direction, and that was the way of the universe. He bent down to tie his clean, grey-white sneakers, and brushed some sand off his white shirt and jeans. There would be time for eulogies and reminiscence later. Fallen friends would get their rewards. It was time now for doing.

He felt better already.

 Post subject: Balance in Chaos, Yin and Yang. One red, one...a colour yet to be found.
PostPosted: Mon Jan 19, 2004 4:21 pm 
<font color=darkred><b>Lorem Ipsum
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<i>"Everything is falling apart; Trying to see through the Red and the Sound"</i>

-= Cue up: In Flames, Trigger.=-

He's panting, hard. His breath is ragged, sounding wet and torn as it thrumms out of his chest. His vision is distorted, the edges streaked with red and unfocused, the only clarity being his foe, Fold. Fold's movements, sounds, the Adversary in sharp, clear focus and detail.

<i>Damn, it's hot! why is it so fucking hot?</i> Mad wonders in a detatched, almost objective way as he streaks towards Fold, tearing at the man with his clawlike hands, and then being thrown back.

<i>The world won't stop changing, distorting...everything keeps flowing into something else, like the rolling surface of the ocean....the still ground feels unstrady under my hands and feet.</i>

Fold swings forward, slamming the palm of his hand into mad's face. Mad lashes out with a return hook, his fist leaving Fold's face in a bloody, shredded torn mess. In wonder, mad brings his fist back, looking at the blood and flesh covered thing like it was an alien artifact.

<i>Thorns...</i> He grins malevolently at his new flesh, reworked by Chaos' constant accelerated evolution. "THoRNS"

Fold's booted heel slams into his chest, bringing the sweating chaosbard out of his reverie. Fold's mutilated face is already on the mend, but the half healed gashes only serve to make his snarl more ferocious. "Concentrate! You were the one who wanted this so much, Adric! Do you now have the presumption to waste it?"

Mad looks up, grinning at Fold, his expression a mixture of feral animal bloodlust and salacious carnal hunger. "Oh no, Dear Brother...i wouldn't DREAM of it!" He wips his hand down, the crimson tendrils of meat from Fold's face spattering on the marble floor wetly. His vision swims with aparitions, thoughts and images coursing around the crimson edges of his sight. Surreality closes in on him like the cloak of night, distorting everything.

Mad lunges again, two consecutive savage blws to Fold's face with his bethorned hands, puncturing skin and cracking bone. Then, the ChaosBard runs his fingers through the bleeding wounds tenderly, a lover's caress, following the rough edge of one of the spines from his own hand, embedded in Fold's cheekbone.

Again, Mad is driven back, a series of brutal, elegant kicks, elbows, punches, stabbing attacks that damage and break and tear. As his wet claret splashes wantonly from his body like willfully spilt seed, the madman continues to grin, even laugh between blows. Aparitions of those he'd knwn creep into the dark red corners of his vision, neither encouraging or taunting him, just fleeting memories, could have beens, questions unanswered...randomness in it's supreme.

Then, again, the focus, wild, depraved desire. longing. To fight, to struggle, to strive, to destroy. Lust for it, Wanton Hunger, FEROCIOUS NEED.

Again, Madadric lunges, but this time, his purpose is different. Fueled by these destructive, yet faintly familiar emotions, he does something Neither of them would have expected.

Madadric grabs Fold by the head, pulls him forward, and kisses him full on the lips.

their battered lips mash together, and all either can taste is blood.

<i>Scratch the surface...and you will find...someone to blame for our Lost....Time</i>

Savagely, Fold knocks Mad away, his wild eyes looking shocked at the madly laughing ChaosBard, who lays sprawled on the ground. "Wh...What the FUCK is wrong with you?!"

"What's the matter, Brother?" Mad asks between gales of laughter. "Don't i TASTE good?" The man stands up suddenly, that monster's grin splitting his face. "Because you taste <b>DiViNe!</b>"

The grinning monster moves, like a crimson morphing streak, becoming like some abstract image of wet red skin, thorns, claws, long jagged teeth. Thye thing rushes past fold, and the man flies from his feet, spinning.

Even as Fold hits the ground, the blur reforms into madadric, hunched over something , biting, tearing, chewing, snarling. Consuming.

Fold's severed arm.

The two stand simultaneously, still both covered in blood. Mad wiping at his chin, that cannibal grin stil splitting his face, and Fold clutcching at his stump.

"Grow it back." Mad demands. Fold's smirk glances across his features briefly. It is difficult to read whether he is holding his confidence through this, or simply playing with the Chaosbard. "Come on, Prometheus!"

Madadric Growls, stepping forward.

<b>"GROW IT BACK!"</b>


 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Jan 26, 2004 12:23 am 
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-= Cue Theme: Malice Mizer - Color Me Blood Red =-

My arm. He has taken my arm.

The realization of this hits far harder than the actuality. In fact, I feel no pain in the lost limb, as if something is holding it back.

I growl as I face the madman. He dares to scream that I grow it back? I clench my good fist and the world shivers.

<i>...in the darkness they cry out...</i>

Mad Adric steps forward. <b>"GROW IT BACK!"</b> he demands.

The walls of the castle begin to vibrate as Fold clenches his fist.

"You've grown, dear Adric. Changed." Fold looks into the eyes of his adversary. "Not only physically, but mentally. Something is different about you, and I can feel it." One by one, pinpoints of light appear on his flesh, expanding into the glowing runes he stole from the man he now faces. As they cascade over his torso, voices begin to moan and echo theoughout the castle. The voices of the lost cry out.

The ChaosBard grins and licks his lips. "We are even, now, Brother. Far more than blood, we have partaken of each other. <b>wE arE THe sAmE!!</b>"

<i>...voices shared in faint whisper now bind in screams...</i>

I toss my head back and laugh. "The same? Ha! You have no idea how strong your words are!!"

I raise the stump of my arm before me as the glow from the runes that adorn my body grows brighter. Tendrils of light and energy begin to slowly climb from the wound. Threads of hate and torment whip around, lashing at each other and form solid. Slowly, my arm begins to take shape.

<i>...what once had no form now entwines...</i>

Adric's grin widens as the arm begins to reform, then falters as it continues. This isn't right. Something's not <b>right</b>!

"You see it now?!" Fold laughs. His arm finishes its reconstruction. Yet the glow of the runes does not fade, nor the light from the appendage they helped to return. "Look at yourself, dear Adric! <i><b>lOoK ANd sEE!</b></i>!"

As the voices in the halls increase, Adric looks down at his hands... covered in runes. His eyes shoot up, back to Fold, as now he notices... <i>Fold, the walls, the floors... ME</i>... All are covered in runes.

MadFold drops low, propping himself up with his normal arm, holding the rune arm back in a fist. "AttACk mE, dEAr aDrIC!!"

FoldedAdric howls out as the vibration of the walls becomes stronger, and lunges...


-= Cue Theme: Pink Floyd - Time (Trance Remix) =-

Running through the castle labyrinth, she comes to a halt before the doors that lead to the main chamber. Before she can throw them open, the walls begin to shudder and voices begin to moan all around her.

"What in the hell?" She tries the door, but it refuses to budge. "Goddamnit, not NOW!" She forces her weight into the doro, and still it will not yield.

"Shit... If I can't warn Fold, then... Then I'll have to take care of it myself." She turns back down the corridor and races for another exit. If Fold cannot greet this new arrival, then she'll have to do so... no matter who it is. As she continues on, working her way down through the Castle, the walls start to shake more violently, filled now with moans and shrieks of disembodied voices.

She shivers. "I hope Fold knows what he's doing..."


Let the bitches have their cake.

 Post subject: Twin By Nature
PostPosted: Mon Jan 26, 2004 1:56 am 
<font color=darkred><b>Lorem Ipsum
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<i>We're inside...inside each other!</i> i realise as i fly at him, howling for his blood, his flesh, his Id. It's getting hard to tell what's me, what's him, who the voices belong to, why i can see both of us from somewhere abo-

Suddenly all i see is the marble hall spinning around and around too fast. All i can feel is a wet, burning sensation from my cheek. After a few shavings of time, i realise i either just ran into a meteor, or Fold-Mad-I....HE just punched ME with that glowy fist thing.

Right now, only one thing is at all clear.


The Changing Man, the one with the red hair, he spins through the air like a spinning top that just got kicked. He bounces, marble chips flying, and the sound of smashing bones echoes around the great hall. He tumbles, spraying blood from his cheek across the white floor.

The other one, the Outside Concept, rushes at his foe as the man comes to a sliding halt, that red glowing fist raised in the air, like he's proposing a toast to all that is red and hurty.

Again, the fist connects, and slams my body back down into the marble, cracking it, and doing god only knows how much damage to me. i probably shouldn't be smiling. The pain in my face should probably be making it impossible. i think i'll hurt him now.

The consumer of his foe's flesh moves his broken body, the shards of bone grind against each other. It hurts so much i laugh out loud. Balancing on my palms, i kick out with my feet savagely, smashing my heels into his exposed Jaw. The sound of his bones breaking is almost as beautiful as mine...<i>We're singing the last duet!</i>

Marble dust and chunks of masonry fall down from the hole left in the ceiling, and the floor shudders. The Jagged Changeling leaps up through the debris after Apocalypse King, only to be grabbed around the wrist by that crimson parody of a hand, and flung wallward with might only seen in the desperate and the monsterous.

The entire tower shakes and moans like a climaxing whore, used and abused beyond her limits. Red light emits from the hole my flying body creates as i careen away from that spire of disdain and loathing. The sky reminds me of...inside my head. <i>JUST LIKE THE INSIDE OF MY HEAD</i> no wonder i'm having trouble telling whether i'm me or him! there is so little difference, i may as well be punching myself in the face!

Self Abuse never felt so invigortaing! It's like being struck by a bolt of lightning all over again.

I can see me...no...HIM! Him standing there in the result of my hasty exit from Fold's spire. I'm waiting for the Chaosbard to come back to me, i want it as much as i know he does now. I know it because i want it. Because he wants it. He's taken over a part of me, but it's hard to tell which part...it's becoming hard to define myself as myself...maybe it always was...<i>He'S CoMiNG!</i>

I leap from block to marble block, trying to make it back to the castle as i fall. Finally i reach the smooth outer shell. Solid, Hard, like a slap from an angry father. it comforts me as i latch on. I feel gravity clawing and grappling at my body, trying to drag me down to meaningless pain miles below. It claws at me like a reality that forbids any of us to exist. I laugh in it's face, and horrify it by running full speed up the outside surface of the tower.

Now he's in front of me, having hurtled from below. The twin of my expression distorts his face...something between a malicious man's smirk, and a madman's grin. His eyes glint, and i can't tell if they are yellow-in-red or Blue. Those vicious thorns cover his fists and arms, his knees, part of his face. He twists and spins horribly in the air before me, and i barely have time to block with my reborn hand as he lashes out Fold's - MY tower vibrates with my impact, and more debris and blood rains from the heights. i can hear him calling, crooing for me to follow him.

"To the roof, Brother Dear! My Dear Adric! My Brother Fold! <b>MY TWIN BY NATURE!</b>"


 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Jan 26, 2004 9:35 am 
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-= Cue Theme: Tsunami Bomb - 02 - Russian Roulette =-

As I chase after the flickering image of myself, I am already atop the castle waiting for him to finish his ascent. I laugh, knowing that this is how it's going to end. Hearing his laughter fuels my rage. I press on and wait, coming over the edge of the roof and standing there as he arrives.

<b>"ThIs iS mADneSs!"</b> we chime together.

<b>"I woULdN't HavE It aNY oThEr WAy!!"</b> we reply.

I can feel the wind now, trying to remove us from our perch. Again I laugh and drop into stance as I charge, then block my attack.

"Punching myself in the face, you said, am I right?" he asks. No, I thought it. He's in my head... or we're in each others'.

He strikes again, faster than before, and both fly back from the force of our colliding fists.

"This is getting us nowhere!" I shout, as he picks myself up. I shake his head and we smirk. "Precisely."


-= Cue Theme: The Matrix Revolutions - 07 - Niobe's Run =-

Far from the center of destruction lies the edge of the world. In this land of broken reality, this term comes quite literally.

The Edge of the World.

Far from the shaking castle. Far from the gathering Expatriates. Far from those who would try to escape the damage.

Out here in this cracked end, nestled in the silence brought by distance, an haunting calm covers the land.

A calm that is instantly shattered by a faint rumble. No more than a simple shiver, the land descends once again into silence.

Then, something quite unexpected occurs.

Out along the desolate edge, far from the eyes of any who would notice, a crack appears. Slowly at first, it begins to expand. Suddenly, a rock tumbles over the edge, lost into the void.

The rock is soon followed by a nearby bush. And then a piece of land no bigger than a small sandbox.

All around the edge of the dead reality, pieces begin to crumble and descend into the emptiness.

Slowly, the world begins to fall apart.


-= Cue Theme: Final Fantasy X-2 - 25 - Destruction =-

The two men leap at each other once more, high atop the castle. At once they strike, fists upon faces, bones cracking and wounds healing.

One jumps back, his long hair blowing about and stinging his red eyes. The other stands, wiping the blood from his rune covered face with thorned fingers.

"Who would have thought it would turn out like this?" one muses aloud.

"Maybe we both did. Who knows." the other replies.

"Good point." He smirks and cracks his knuckles. "Ready for another go?"

"I was written ready." comes the laughing reply as the man attacks.

The two men become a blur. Fists connect and blood flies. One grabs the other and bites his shoulder hard, recieving a swift kick to the gut and an elbow to the ribs. They back off only for a second, then come together again, cracking heads, clawing at flesh and ripping at limbs.

Far below, a lone woman comes to a single gate, hidden at the base of the cliff. She pushes it open and steps out into the calm land. She quickly scans the horizon, noting the dense forest that abruptly end many miles from her. As a faint pair of hedlights emerge, heading in her direction, she sits and waits.

It won't be long now.


We all go a little Mad sometimes.

 Post subject:
PostPosted: Thu Jan 29, 2004 1:49 pm 
<font color=darkred><b>Lorem Ipsum
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I can barely see, there's blood in my eyes. Aaaaaaahh, Who'm i kidding? there's blood everywhere! It's all over me, my thorned arms, my skin, my teeth i can see glinting through his eyes All over this tiles roof...All over him, the other Me, blood everywhere. i don't know how there can be any left in our bodies.

We're like a Twin Ourobourus, two snakes eating each other's tails, consuming each other at the rate we repair ourselves, a never-ending cycle as we blend and the boundaries between us grow less and less significant. It feels...exhilirating!

<i>We can't tell, which is the Me, and which is the You</i>

Tiles fly into the air as this body charges, my thorned hands lashing out at him, i'm screaming with joy as the thorns cut my face, i can taste the blood, the fear, the sheer lust for it. I'm slamming my Reborn Fist into his face, bones crack, then shatter as he flies backward. Tiles shatter and fly in all directions from his leap high in the air, turning, spinning, and then shooting down, shashing his knee into my exposed back.

Even as my spine shatters and rebuilds itself, better that it was, i twist, grab his thigh, the thorn like talons on my fingers digging deep into his flesh though his tattered clothes, and i bodily throw him down into the ground, face-first. We're grinning. We're smirking.

All the impacts, the clawing, the feasting, the howls, the roars, the panting...it's become a language all it's own, at once more primal, more basic, and yet more complex than any language ever written or spoken before it. A language only the two of us can understand. Because we are each other.

It's not just words we exchange, that...is far to extreme a limit for this Communication. First, it's the similarities that blend...our senses mingle, all the hurts, the sudden rushes of color and light, the sound of rushing water in our ears that is our racing blood, the cries of those souls damned and blessed by the runes of The Mad, the line blurs until MINE is OURS, powers twisting in a limbo of ownership, first striking at one of us in a hurricane of force and savagery, then lashing at the other with maniacal unrelenting ferocity.

Then the diferences come to light, touch each of us, changing,i'm not sure where each part comes from, It's too hard to tell which perspective is mine, which is his...which is this overall, overwhelming, consumung

The world slashes and spins in a blur of violent red horror, and after it, a vision, one we both see as our bodies tumble from each other, and we lie panting in momentary respite.

<i>Two figures, embracing, wrapped in a rough wollen blanket. One, taller, with scruffy bright colored hair, his arms wrapped around the shoerter of the two, both staring our a rain-slicked window on a rain-slicked street, watching a thunderstorm rage across the heavans in tumultuous pride and energy.</i>


Filled with an inexplicable rage, i tear from the tiled roof, the small bits of terracotta shattering and shooting through the air like tiny darts. And i am upon him, his grinning, mocking face, a hated face, a despised face! i want to destroy it, i want to destroy them all, but first, i want to take from them all they hold dear, <i>All the things i never had a chance to taste!</i> TEAR THEM AWAY!

<b>"As i did you and your precious Luci!"</b>

Comtemptuously, i throw him off me, my face and bare chest a mess of wounds and cuts, some of them from my own hands. I grin even as my fave rebuilds itself, developing a pattern of thorns like those on my arms, a damaged eye regrows, and my vision comes back in stereo.

We slam back into combat, and our violence again becomes language.

<b>"Tear her away?! Look, fool! Look and see the Truth!"</b>

Once again, our rage explodes in vision, coming in like the crisp clarity of a bitter morning frost, tastig of sour regeret, and even more sour petty satisfaction.

memory wrote:
"You used it, didn't you? to make him send you? and then on me...so we could..."

"...say goodbye..." She nods into his chest, before leaning away. "i've always known...i'm your last vice...the last control...if i'm....if i'm not...you can..." she stops, gathers herself, and continues "in your dreams, iv'e seen you, Adric. Wild, Free, unstoppable, unrepentant. it always frightened me, but it was like looking at an eagle 'oh, how free and splendid and majestic!' i'd cry to myself, and a part of me knew...it was me holding you back...it made me feel special, chosen, but it made me sad that you couldn't fly, like in your dreams."

Something begins to gnaw at Adric as his love, the only human he'd ever felt connected to, continues. "I want to set you free, now...but i want to be free too....it hurts, Adric, so much! i...i can't bear it any more!" A great hollow pit opens up in his belly as realisation sinks in.

"Dischord...The guitar...it's still falling, isn't it?"


"at you."


It cannot be, but even as part of me rebels against this, i look back, at all the conversations with Him, the one on the outside, HIS suggestions, HIS ideas, i realise...it came from him, but...it had to be his idea...HIS tyhere is no way, NO WAY SHE COULD HAVE SOMEHOW DONE THIS.

<b>"You know it's true"</b> comes the message, in the form of a flurry of crushing, ripping blows between the two blood soaked figures. <b>"You can taste it in my thoughts, my very blood sings with her victory over you!"


"It's singing in your veins, too!"


I bounce along the tiles, with the force of his defiant blow, the power of his frightened denial. My body is torn so hard from the force of that unnatural fist, i'm not sure if i can repair it before-

<i>how dare he? HOW DARE SHE?! how dare any of them? HOW DARE ALL OF THEM?! What do they know of what i have gone through, what i have strived to do. ALL THE THINGS I HAVE HAD TO METICULOUSLY MOVE INTO PLACE, that the half-concieved children thing they can frivilously play like children in a sandbox?!</i>

hahah, i should miss my arm more. Exactly when did he tear it off with that monsterous fist of his? I wonder at what point he tore two ribs from my chest, stabbed me through the guts with them? A small part of me wonders how i can keep grinning with my jaw broken in so many places? <i>Why am i still smiling?</i>

Even as he continues to try and rip me apart, the answer comes swimming through all the mess and the blood and the painful memories of her. Memories that hurt us both as we taste them.

Adric, because she was something he had, and lost.

Fold, because she represents something he never had the chance to have.

<i>I'm smiling because he's finally trying to kill me.</i>

<b>"Now, Dear Brother, Let's sing the crescendo for our aPoCaLYPSe SeReNeDe"</b>


Even the Pen is influenced by the words it writes. Stories, like any action, change everything they touch.


 Post subject:
PostPosted: Sat Jan 31, 2004 12:16 pm 
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Location: Allentown, PA
“It’s been a long year and a half since we first started this game, hasn’t it?”

“I never expected it would last this long. I mean, I didn’t even expect *** to live as long as he did, or become a serious character.”

“Tell me about it. We’ve come so far. I finally think I’ve gotten *** to where I can respect him.”

“Well, that’s good.”

Time passes. Things are said, but they don’t matter. Finally, one says:

“I wonder what’s next?”

“Don’t you remember?”


The rushing river crashed against the walls of the gate. Kitsune watched passively. “She came this way, I’m sure of it,” he said. “’Ming and . . . Actor?” He exhaled. “A match made in heaven, surely . . .” Kit laughed. He placed his hand on the castle wall and leaned against it, staring down into the dark, shifting waters. “Such beauty in even such rage,” he said, and smiled. “Took me long enough.”

A moment passed. Kit’s eyes closed. Then he pushed off the wall, stuck his hands in his pockets, and nonchalantly began strolling in the opposite direction, around to the other side of the castle. There was nothing that he needed to see here. It was beautiful enough on its own, this constant movement.

“Is this the way things were supposed to go?” Kit mused. “What naifs we all were.” He kicked a stone out in front of him, eyes following every arc in the air, every twist along the ground. His foot met the stone as it hit the ground, every time. “What year is it, now? Does it matter? How old am I? Can anyone tell, beyond what I say my age is? And even then, is that correct?” Kitsune shook his head. His foot kicked the stone in front of him. “These things don’t matter in the end. What matters is the statement we make, how we touch the world and leave our essence where we walk.” He looked up at the read sky. “And you matter to us, too. For it is your concern we feel when we are in pain. A parallel fear shapes our experiences.”

Kit rounded the side of the castle. Up above him, Adric and Fold fought themselves and each other . . . but was there really a distinction between selves anymore? “These battles will define us forever,” Kit said, looking up at the flashes of red. “Rest easy, Watchers. We exist. That makes us beautiful. That alone will make this worth our destruction.”

Kit leaned against the wall as they fought. “Wait your turn, everyone . . . Fold is busy.” He followed the fight raptly. “They are the same . . . the dark sides of both their Watchers. And I am nothing, nothing still.”


Orochi snapped awake, gasping. “Oh, fuck.”

He put his hand to his head, running his fingers through his black hair, breathing heavy. His hand came away wet with sweat. “So, it’s happening . . .” He stood up quickly, stared at the core, and walked over to it. He began typing again, furiously, desperately. “It can’t be too late. How long was I out?” Clickety-clack. Clack-clack-clack. Festinate, festinate, mature, mature, ripen, ripen. What doesn’t belong? What does? Does any of it? “Todd, damn you, listen to me . . . no, better yet, write me!” Orochi said, hushed, stage-whispering.

Two words:

Get it?

Orochi stared. “Of course . . . it’s what we are, why we still stand here . . . consciousness . . . bullshit, every last explanation . . .” He pounded on the side of the core. “What am I still doing here?!” Orochi rocketed to his feet and dashed out of the room.


We’re all mirrors, reflecting the same images back into each other forever and ever, from different directions.

Ask yourself: What holds a character to his story? It’s a matter of life and death.

 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Feb 02, 2004 7:05 am 
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Posts: 10551
Location: Bris-Vegas Australia
Sing it: Beatles - Yesterday.

The two unlikely companions found themselves in an old elevator. The controls had but two buttons, Here and There, Miao hit the one labled There.

Lying on the ground was a strange little man curled up in the Feotal Position, covered in rags he was sobbing to himself, with his face to the wall.
A pool of dried blood surrounded him and soaked into his rags.

The Gears in the roof above them suddenly came to life and began dragging them upwards towards There.
The echos of reality crumbling above them as a battle raged was

Miao looked at Actor and then the ball on the floor. She leant carefully down and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Be careful Miao." Actor looked at the progress light, it kept flashing Here over and over again, their movement was slow and he knew that they were vulnerable.

"Who are you?"

The man eyes were covered with a cloth, bound tightly around his forehead it was stained with blood around the edges, as if tightened beyond his own control. "So big, its so big. I want my Van back, I want to drive away. Its so big, I can't see anymore. I can't see the edges!"

She Tried again. "My name is Miao-Ming, this is Actor. We're here to fight Fold."

"No, he's not here to fight Fold, he's here to ride the book of Revelations to its final page. He's a monster, Folds a Watcher, the difference is palatable." The man started to cough. "The last days, even the Conclusion fears him, I can't see that far, its all blurred."

Actor sniffed the air."He's bleeding, badly." He looked at the little face expoused to the world. "He's fighting something. Something bad."

"I've lived here in my room for 550 days now, since I started it. I just want to be left alone. I want to shut my eyes and vanish, let me be. I want to shut my eyes and have it disapear. I'm sick of seeing it everywhere!"

The man coughed again, blood fleaking onto Actors white Shoes, they had dried somewhat since the river, their shine lost forever.

Actor drew a gun. "I know you don't I?"

"You think you do, you think you know everything because you're a god, but you don't have any idea!" More blood coughed onto the ground. "I've watched it grow, Fold and Bishou, Mad and Rand, You, dear girl, and Kit, you killer and Wolf. I seen it get bigger and bigger."

He seemed to crumble into a smaller ball somehow. Actor pointed his gun at the mans head. Crouching down to look at him more carefully.

The man was ranting now, oblivious to the rest. "I watched until I couldn't see it all anymore and I tried to shut my eyes and I still couldn't let it go."

Miao looked at Actor. "What are you doing?"

"I wasn't ready for it, for any of it. I didn't think I would end up here. At the end of my creation."

Actor put the gun above the mans eyes. "I have one question, and I want an answer, before I free you."

The man babbled. "He's Alive, I know that, I know that he's alive and you will have to fight him soon. Folds Alive as well, Mads alive. Everything is dying, everything is falling apart." More blood. "You have no idea how big this is."

Miao looked at Actor. "Who is he talking about?"

Actor ignored her and put the gun between the mans eyes. "No, Kaze-Chan. I think its you that has no idea how big this world truely is. I am Pain that Walks, I am Death Which Bleeds."



The Creator was claimed by the Killer.

OOC: I added it up 550 days guys since this started.

"Why can't we go back to living like cavemen? I know it was a rough and ready existence - the men where always rough and the women were always ready! " - Santa.

 Post subject:
PostPosted: Sat Feb 14, 2004 12:52 pm 
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Posts: 1470
Location: Belgium
Rand kept driving The road was clear. Now and then more children, yelling at him to stop in the name fo Fold appeared before him. He didn't even stop the car. The front of the commiemobile, red by nature, was now encrusted with drying blood. The man next to him, the treacherous dog, was sleeping it seemed.

Rand was thinking.

He had to admit the recent happenings were unsettling. His travel through the areas the rulers referred to as the USA, not to mention his comrades in the Expatriates had presented him with many oddities, and he had learned to accept them without letting it affect his Proletarian readiness for Revolutionary battle, but these last few hours, and days in a way, were worse then normal.

His surroundings were disturbing indeed. There had been a tower exploding. The fields he drove by were filled with corpses and ruins. Occasionally he saw sights that he knew were impossible. The Eifel Tower and Tokyo Tower were NOT supposed to stand night next to each other. And the circumstances of getting here were more then odd.

Then there was the problem of his companionship. For the life fo him he could not understand why Icy would have asked him to tolerate the presence of this... this DOG! This slimy butcher on command that licked his ruler's feet even in his dreams probaby! Rand considered briefly slitting the dog's throat but decided against it for the fifteenth time. He had promised Comrade Icy.

Comrade Icy, comrade Kitsune, comrade Miaoming, comrade Actor. All of them seemed to have problems he didn't quite understand. It angered Rand not to be able to ease the discomfort of his comrades. He still suspected that Fold's lies about the Watchers were at the source of it all.

Which brought him to Bishou. The fallen comrade had proven Rand that he was indeed still loyal to the others, and his announcement regarding the Watchers was just him being misguided. But by WHOM? How did Fold misguide him?

Then there was comrade Miaoming. Rand found that each time he thought of her, he found himself thinking thoughts that could not be attained in a Revolutioanrily satisfactory manner. Comrade miaoming was with comrade Kitsune, and Comrade Kitsune would not fall so close to the People's final victory. They would have the peaceful life she wished, and he would personally make sure it would be so!

NO! WRONG! A comrade is a comrade. All of our lives in equal value in our struggle to vanquish the bourgeoise dogs that would bind us. One cannot protect one for one's selfish desires while at the same time fighting a full battle against the Class Enemy. He would take down Fold and risk his life, and Comrade Miaoming and kitsune would do the same.

Then there was something else botherin. The blackouts and his lack of memories from his past hadn't bothered him so much up till now. The leaflet he had told him the most important thing about what side he was on, and when he blacked out he usually killed in ways he hadn't thought possible before.

But the dreams he had had after the... misunderstandin with comrade Kitsune and Fold's attempt on their lives made him worry. He had seen someone that looked like him. The longer he thought about the person, the less he liked him. It had looked like some young, tearful, self-ashamed spineless, demoralising coward. Was that his old person? Was that where he came from?

He reached for the bloodstained leaflet and read through it, keeping one eye on the road.

"...and go onward for a better future..." He said to himself.

He nodded. Of course. The leaflet was right. He was worrying needlesly. All these matters were trivialities. Now was the hour fo the Revolution. Fold, the final tyrant, would fall, and the proletariat would be free at last. There would be time enough for the less important manners later.

Now was not the tme to think, but to act.

Proud Member of the cult of Godless commie traitors.

Wait, this isn't chewing gum!

 Post subject:
PostPosted: Tue Mar 02, 2004 12:54 pm 
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Joined: Tue Jan 15, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 2950
Location: Thursday
-= Cue Theme: Red Hot Chili Peppers - Road Trip =-

The Shelby kicked up a cloud of dust as it bounced along the rough terrain. Inside, its driver white-knuckled the steering wheel. Narrowing his gaze at the castle he was closing in on, he pressed the accelerator to the floor and cursed.

"You son of a bitch. I don't care if it's you, Fold, or if my Watcher is there... someone's going down."

His right hand left the steering wheel and travelled to the seat beside him, gripping the pistol there. Without taking his eyes from the castle, he slipped it into his cloak.

Speeding past the fallen ruins of pyramids beside the London Bridge, BiShou neared the cliffs face. Swerving to the left, he started to angle around the unnatural spire. High above, the darkened castle stood out against the red sky like a beacon of sanity in a catastrophic storm. For the first time since he had hit the road, he lowered his gaze to the cliff's base... and saw someone there he hadn't expected to ever see again.

"What in God's name..."


-= Cue Theme: Kidney Thieves - Crazy =-

As she watched the car speed closer, she looked high above at the castle. She didn't know exactly what was going on, but somehow she knew Fold was locked in a crucial battle.

Returning to the vehicle as it made its approach, she moved deeper into the shadows. No need to show herself until she knew just who... or what... she was up against. She pulled the gun from her jacket and checked to make sure it was loaded, then slipped it away.

The car suddenly made a sharp left, and was now heading parallel with the side of the rocky wall which lead to the castle. In a momentary crack of lightning, she saw the driver behind the wheel and her jaw dropped.

"...Bi... BiShou!" She looked immediately back up to the castle, and then down to the car. "Fuck, it's now or never," she said as she stepped from the shadows. BiShou must have seen her, because he slowed now, turning the vehicle in her direction.

Inside the car, BiShou shook his head and blinked his eyes in disbelief, pulling closer to her. He stopped the car a few feet from where she stood and stepped from the car, turning to face her.

"I can't believe... It's not possible... Jen?"

She smiled warmly, stepping towards BiShou and embracing him with a hug. "In the flesh."


Deep within the recesses of existence, the world cried out. A single shot tore through the bowels of creation and split it in two. Within an instant, all life was doubled, destroyed, and instantly reborn to the exact moment in which it had split, as if nothing had ever changed.

Creation awoke and screamed.

Her other half had been murdered.

With all the hatred ever wrought, she flew from her prison in search of a new vessel.

Vengeance would have to be swift, if to be had at all.


-= Cue Theme: Type O Negative - Love You To Death =-

"I don't get it..." BiShou said, looking at Jen. "What's happened to the world? What brought us here? Why are-"

Jen cut him off, placing her finger on his lips. "Shh... look, it doesn't matter. Alot has happened since you've been gone, yes... but none of it's important anymore." She turned and looked up at the towering castle. "What matters is up there."

BiShou followed her gaze. "Up there? Is that where Fold is? Or is that where the Watchers..." he looked back at Jen and raised an eyebrow. "Why were you waiting for me?"

She sighed and looked back at the man before her. His long hair swept in the wind, taunting her. His blue eyes pierced into her, reminding of how things used to be. She had loved him. Loved with all her heart. But BiShouNenKaMi wasn't the kind to settle down. He had never talked about his past, and always seemed focused on one goal at a time. She had longed to just once be that goal. To not have to care about Expats or powers, or the UPPO... to just be his.

Then Fold had come, and everything changed. Fold. Her lips tingled as she thought back on the kiss he had given her. He had first come to her as she was clearing out the UPPO. Looking into his eyes back then, she had seen the feelings she had never recieved from BiShou.

And so she joined him.

She had turned over every last document to Fold. All the registered powers of every single Expatriate, delivered right into the very hands of evil they were trying to avoid, by the one woman no one had ever suspected.

Now, here she was, standing face to face with the man she had once loved... and then sold out. The man who was nearly identical to Fold in every way. She looked deep into his eyes, hoping to see something there. Something to show her that she still had a choice. A sign that things had changed. Anything.

All she saw was BiShou's burning determination to finish things.

Jen sighed inwardly and smiled, placing her hand on BiShou's cheek. Nothing had changed. Her choice had been made. "I was waiting to bring you in. To help you reach the top." She withdrew her hand and turned toward the well hidden door. "Come. We have to hurry. Before it's too late..."

As she stepped into the dark passageway with BiShou close behind, Jen reached up and patted her jacket, feeling the weight of the gun concealed within.


"As we near the edge of chaos, patterns emerge, drawing lines in the sand that define the ways in which everything will come crashing down."

"Sigh... we were all such bright, happy go-lucky, optimistic kids back then... what the fuck happen?" -Michael Poe
The artist formerly known as BiShouNenKaMi.

 Post subject:
PostPosted: Tue Mar 09, 2004 10:51 pm 
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Location: Bris-Vegas Australia
-= Gorillaz - Clint Eastwood. =-

Actor saw the door before him, he knew that something was wrong.

The Sargent had taken the rear, the rest of the squad was dead. The jungle surrounded him and the door confronted him.
His fatigues were ripped to shreds from the last one they had to fight.

Vines and brush blocked the path the blood-howls of animals desperate for blood did nothing for the mood, he remained safe, the blood of his last kill drenched him...

"Why did you kill him Actor?"

The Sarge didn't sound right. His voice echoed in Actors head.

"He was the enemy, everything out here is the enemy, didn't they teach you officers anything back in Basic? Bullets go in the enemy Sarge." The door was out of place, yet he looked at it and it seemed more real with every second.

"Who are you talking to?" The Sarge was covered as well, his grin looked like a devil watching a snowstorm. "Are you okay Actor?"

Actor blinked.






Actor looked at the hallway, Miao was a few paces behind him. The Doorway before him.

"I'm slipping Miao. Slipping." He coughed, blood stained his hands. "Soon I'll go beyond, into the realm of gods. But not before I kill Fold. Not before I honour my contract."

Actor seemed to recover, standing straight he grabbed the door handle and opened it, the light shining in on the two.

Actor pointed one of his guns at her, lowering it suddenly. "I'm sorry." He moved to raise it again. "Its nearly over my dear." He grinned, darkly. "I've got all my bases covered, and now the real battle begins."

The door had a complex sign written on it. Revelation in the Spire.

Miao looked at it. "I wonder who wrote all these signs?"

"Who cares." Actor Shruged.

Actor and the girl walked through.


-= Metallica - Four Horsemen =-

Mad and Fold were fighting, Actor saw it happening.

Miao watched as Actor lowered the gun aimed at Fold.

"Let's allow them fight Miao, lets me see what I have to destroy in Action."

Actors Wings spread out as his eyes looked at the Two warriors locked in battle.

"Now we wait for the rest of them to arrive."


<I>Elsewhere the gates of Death began to crack.

Actor looked at them, nodded his head and went to the next sufferer. </i>

"Why can't we go back to living like cavemen? I know it was a rough and ready existence - the men where always rough and the women were always ready! " - Santa.

 Post subject:
PostPosted: Wed Mar 10, 2004 9:12 pm 
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Location: Detroit
-= Cue Theme: Our Lady Peace - Superman's Dead =-

*Lifyre soars through the air thinking. Pondering what he's going to do once he reaches the castle. Will he help? Will he remain the watcher he has been for years? It is easy to remain a watcher as he has for years...

*But there is this nagging urge, this impulse, that draws him to fight for every life that was snuffed, every friend he lost, and every friend he has found.

*His eyes turn to steel and his body swells to twice his normal mass. He shall fight the good fight be what may. If he must die then he shall pass into the arms of his Lord kicking and screaming, Fighting the good fight, and knowing that he did not give up, did not roll over and die, because it was easier.

*Resolution fills Lifyre's eyes as he reaches the castle.


-= Cue Theme: Star Wars - The Imperial March =-

*Lifyre lands before the doors and allows his obsidian wings to drape from his shoulders like a cloak of purest shadow. Tatoos burst upon his chest and a sword appears in his hand.

*Lifyre begins his march towards fate, each step crashing to the flagstones. He slams the doors open and marches down the hall behind them.

*Suddenly he catches the sounds of battle and feels the chaos pulse through him and he knows where he must be. He strides to meet with Fold, Madadric, and his fate. He calls out a warning

The time has come for one of us to DIE Fold.

-= Cue Theme: Tool - Forty Six and Two =-

 Post subject:
PostPosted: Fri Mar 12, 2004 11:04 pm 
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Posts: 3236
Location: Allentown, PA
Oh boy, I ended up in a goddamn road trip, didn't I? . . . Again, why me?

Might as well stick along for the ride. It oughtta be interesting to say the least.

Sorry about that . . . So anyway, where are we headed, really?

I'm new to this whole "road trip" idea, so where is our destination gonna be, exactly?

Hit the gas, if you please?

-Cue—Apoptygma Berzerk, “Backdraft”

Kitsune looked out over the desert before him, hopeless sands, the trust of the earth in the sky betrayed violently. As if the cruelty of its rain-parched existence wasn’t enough, the sky above churned with thunder, sharp crackling explosions lancing through the stratosphere, promising rain but forever withholding sustenance. The idea that his perspective would remind many of listening to bad poetry brought a smile to his face. “So much in this world that could be wonderful . . .” he said, watching Fold and Adric become further confused. “God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world . . . the Watchers still watch over us all. All will be well.” He looked to the right, along the stone wall of the castle. “Horrible things still mean well. Truth isn’t confined to comforting phrasing or proper grammar, is it? We all see the same images . . .”

Now, it's time to just watch . . . and wait. Something's gonna happen soon, and I think I'd like to see it before I run away from it. (Oh, gee, Kit, real intelligent idea there . . .) Let's hope the cats I've been riding with don't mess around.

Kitsune closed his eyes on the stone wall.

All right, I'm sick of this. What do you want, you nutcase, huh?

Damn . . . Roadblock . . .

WHY oh why do I get the feeling this is not going to help?

He opened them on nothing. “A blank page, eh?” he said. He looked around. Faint ghosts of actions flickered around him, gone too quickly to understand what they portended. Looking forward, nothing. Looking behind, he saw a curious circular array of stones. Each stone had runes scrawled on them to indicate their meaning: LOVE, FAITH, HOPE, DESPAIR, HEROISM, RESPECT, and HONOR. He cocked his head, walked over to them, and crushed them to pieces beneath his feet. He smiled, and looked up. His vision went white.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK. This is not going to turn out pretty. I am getting out of here, NOW.

Whatever the reason, we're together again. And I'm a little hungry. How about you?

Kitsune opened his eyes on the stone wall. “The Watcher doesn’t know how to write me anymore. I shouldn’t be surprised.” He looked up. “No personality, nothing really to contribute, just . . . hanging around, waiting for his grand finale . . . in his eyes, I don’t seem to be worth the breath he expends on me.” Kitsune smiled. “But then, he doesn’t see the beauty in pointless things.”

Hey, Mr. DJ, where's our next stop?

Know anyone else reading the newspaper?

Wherever everyone else is going. I'm not bothering with that detail at the moment. I'm more worried about where we've just been.

Well, looks like it's been decided for us. We've finally got a destination: Bish's place. I don't think we're gonna like what we find there.

Come to me, father. See what we have become in this dark sundering. This is truth. This is existence. This . . . drudgery, this endless hurry-up-and-wait . . . this is what we are. The desert before me, the citadel behind me. Nothing stands in for our broken destiny. The answers to our questions are in the stones we built with our own hands.

Oh great, not another one . . .

We're gonna stick together, remember?

Oh, no, you don't. You don't just damn near kill me, and expect me to do nothing about it, do you?

I don't know . . .

It wasn't a request.

Took him that long to figure it out, huh?

I'm beginning to like this.

And as if called, his father was there, in a blur of motion. Kitsune tensed, bracing against the wall. Orochi leaped into him, feet crashing into Kitsune’s chest. The impact carried them through the wall—rather literally, Kit noted, as the wall seemed unharmed and his feet remained planted on the ground. They skidded to a stop in the middle of a great antechamber, decked out in gold leaf and crushed velvet. Orochi’s momentum carried him off Kit’s chest and towards the doorway. He flipped in midair, landing on the ground and bracing himself within the doorway.

No, scratch that, we're going to get lost!! Dammit! We're not going to do anything just running away! Time to fight!!

So, what's he gonna feel like after he wakes up?

I want some answers, and I want them now.

Just what are you? What am I?

It makes sense to me.

“You destroyed your past, didn’t you,” Orochi said.

“Yes, I did,” Kitsune replied. “I see you played your cards too.”

Damn, these secret government agencies really like me, don't they?

So, can I trust you for it?


With Kit's powers, they're doomed.

I envy him. He's one hell of a sleeper.

I . . . he's dead, like that . . . ?

Your wish is my command.

“It would’ve happened eventually. I couldn’t sit in front of that godforsaken screen and write all day.”

“I suppose. It would have been easier. Less painful,” Kit said.

“I think I’ve come to terms with that,” Orochi said. “But I always wanted to see God.” Orochi smiled ruefully. “Maybe now I’ll get an explanation.”

“For what?” Kit said. “For the music you sleep to?”

“No,” Orochi said. “For the wine.”

If he believes this is over, he's a long way from right.

He didn't deserve to die. I don't care what you say, you're no killer.

What the hell is with that corpse?

Will it stay that way for long? Only time will tell . . .

I'm guessing . . . we're here.

Guys, I don't think that's going to be easy . . .

Well, may I?

Orochi pounced out of the doorway, brushing along Kit’s legs with his shoes. For a moment time seemed to slow to a crawl, and Orochi’s hand reached out, caressing Kit’s hair. His eyes widened in realization. Life sped up, and, things happened at once—

—Kit lashed out with his legs—
—Orochi blocked with his arm—
—Kit grabbed Orochi’s arm—
—Orochi grabbed Kit’s face—

They seemed intensely tangled for that brief time, then flew apart effortlessly, alighting on opposite walls. Orochi sprang at Kit, who dove down to the ground and kicked off through the doorway into a huge, towering hallway. Kit turned onto his back to see Orochi fly through after him. The two met in midair and crashed along the floor, smashing into a display case with thick, spiked iron armor. The armor buckled and shattered.

They both stood up, brushing glass and metal off their bodies, not a scratch on them. “This isn’t happening,” Kit said.

“None of this has,” Orochi said. “It’s all just someone’s lucid dream.”

“When we wake up, I’ll still be here,” Kit said. “Come and get me, father. Come and get me, brother.”

I won't accept any other fate.

This trip seems to be getting close to wherever we're going, so we don't have much time to make decisions anymore.

Easy in, easy out, huh? Knock and the door shall be opened unto you . . .

I forgot . . . you could do that.

Wonder where that came from . . . Ah well, who cares? Never turn down a good thing!

Fold won't let us rest forever . . .

This ends now.

Something's out there, and it's watching us.

-Cue—VNV Nation, “Epicentre”

(A true hero disobeys what he’s told to do. In the end, he is made true and good by his rebellion.)

My name is Kitsune. I have fought and won many battles. Today I fight one I know I will lose. Surprisingly, I don’t care anymore. Through some alchemy of the written word, I have been given the chance to see the beauty present all around me and within me. For just this one glimpse of this amazing sight, I find my inevitable destruction or consumption has little effect on me. What is my destruction to the sheer boundless joy I feel?

That is not what I want to speak of, anyway. I want to speak of what I have been, not what I will be.

You really expect me to believe there's some grand power out there, and all you want with them is to destroy them? You really expect me to believe that's anything but bullshit?

Time to go back to where this all began, and where it ended once, too.

It'll never end . . .

I'll explain why . . . maybe.

Kit smiling . . . Kit laughing . . . Kitsune picking her up after she's dropped the latest batch of clothes washed . . . Kit frowning . . . Kit standing, red cables popped out of his arms, as the MIBs lay smoking around him . . . Kit vanishing . . .

I have no CHOICE--!!

Nah, it was nothing . . .

A wise woman once had her creation tell us, “It is with considerable difficulty I remember the first era of my being . . .”

It was cold. I felt nothing but the cold, the frightening sensation of being trapped in nothingness. For one moment, I opened my newborn eyes—and I saw the fanatical devotion in Orochi’s eyes, and fled from them as far as I could. I found myself in nothing. Pure white expanse met my month-old eyes. I feebly reached my arm out, even more terrified of this—for I could feel even less here—and was surprised to find my hand touched a wall in the air. The wall darkened from white to a simple flat grey. I pushed the wall, and it bent outward where I touched it. I grabbed at it, and though my baby’s fingers were little more than stubs, I pulled it towards me. A section of the wall disengaged with a popping sound, and I began to mold shapes with it, random images in my mind given form and life by this magical world.

I didn’t know the concept of boredom. Months, possibly years passed before I conceived of a need for a friend, of someone who looked like me. I constructed little homunculi, unthinking little men who I could play games with. Some got smarter. Some were crushed and not given a second thought. Jess and Mir came from this batch, and I took to calling them my “consciences.”

Life passed me by—the world might well have ended there. Leave me with my tormented subconscious and my innocent, naïve mind. The world refused—and so, one day there was a door. The door led me to an alley. The alley led to a street. The street led to a plaza. The plaza led me to the word “city.” I was ten years old. I had learned the concept of language. I thought I was the first to understand its infinite wonders.

You need a ride, buddy? You look lost.

If I'm part of this tapestry you're weaving, make me useful!!

Suddenly, it passed the point of no return with a feather's push, and the moment shattered in an explosive roar and flare.

Would someone mind filling me in on what the fuck is going on here?!

Not exactly hiding in a black van this time, are you? What do you want?

I don't care what they want, I answer to no one in any government.

(Heroes often have it pretty nice, until destiny rears its head like a poisonous snake and sinks its fangs into them.)

When I was a kid, I had this one dream that terrified me. I only had it once—perhaps I should be glad of that. I remember how terrifying it was, how real it had felt. Sometimes you have dreams that feel searingly real when you’re in them, but then when you wake up, you’re puzzled at how you could have believed it. This was not one of them. It felt real then, and remembering it still feels like something I truly felt.

If you’ve ever seen Harry Potter or the Lord of the Rings, you know that the standard dark bad guy with something twisted inside is represented by a long, torn, hooded cloak and skeletal, thin hands. The Nazgul. The Dementors. Stuff of nightmares, right? Oh no. No. They may not be physical, but they’re real.

It was my elementary school parking lot. These monsters in dark hooded cloaks had been systematically hunting down everyone close to me. One friend had faked his own suicide to escape them. They would not stop till everything was dead, everything I cared about, everything sacred was destroyed and nothing was left but them. I was running. Running, running. Another friend, she had been running with me till one of these things ambushed us. Terrified, I ran and I never saw her again.

She'll not be harmed for any reason as long as I'm alive.

There I was, in the parking lot of my elementary school, because something told me I’d find a way to stop them here. Something had happened to me in the past, something that was important, something that if I could remember, they would all go away.

From behind the corner of the school, two of these things stepped out. They stopped. I froze. One of them pointed at me. I turned around, and there were more, closing in. I turned back, and one of the two had removed their hood. It was my friend, a look of abject terror plastered across her face, and recognition. She tried to stop them, but was pushed aside.

The monkey talks. These watchers are officially insane.

I don't know if you're out there or if you care, but with or without your help I won't let him get away with this.

I can't keep doing this!!

I remembered I was not where I was supposed to be. I realized someone somewhere was dreaming this. And I wished with all my heart that I would wake up.

And just before they reached me, I did.

Get out of that, why don't you.

It can only last as long as I can focus on it . . .

You're not human. You never will be.

And remember: When the time comes to choose, choose wisely.

If necessary, I will.

(Some say a hero is a hero because they fight for a noble cause—because their values are strong—because, somehow, we get the conviction that they and their cause are somehow right. Heroes are not right or wrong, They are heroes because they have a cause, because they are set apart from the rest of society, and because they will fight till they die for what they believe. A hero is no more, or less, than that which in the face of death chooses to persist.)

I was nothing. Now I have a future. I will not allow my future to be thrown away because of my fate.

It always rains when someone's in a bad mood, or something bad's about to happen to us. You ever notice that? Almost like someone just . . . cues it up for added drama.

I will not stop just because I know I’m going to die.

He should be arrested for indecent behavior.

Do you understand me, Watchers?

We Expatriates are cursed with our destinies, Icy.

Do you believe in fate? Do you believe there's something else out there controlling our every move?

Without her, I'm worthless, better off dead.

All my complaints . . . all my worries . . . all my attempts to try and break away . . . you planned them ALL, didn't you? You MEANT for me to realize what to do . . .

I will not die forsaken. I will not die being forgotten, relegated to the back story of some cheap shortcut of a character.


. . . please, don’t destroy my life just as I finally understand . . .

If he's meant to take me today, then he will.

So be it. It's time for a reckoning.

Should have thought of that earlier . . .

You know, this brings back memories . . .

-Cue—Overclocked Remix, “Silent Hill 2 True (ItsGoneNowmix)”

(Heroes are meant to show us what humanity truly is. They are the lens through which what is important to our souls is seen.)

“You know, usually when you hear a little kid laughing, something bad is about to happen . . .” Orochi said. The frosty giggle echoed around him. “So where’s the big surprise, eh?”

From out of the shadows stepped a little girl, holding a ball. She looked at Orochi and giggled. “Hello,” she said.

“Welcome to Subconsciousland,” Orochi said. “Who are you supposed to be, girl?”

There are more important things than Hyperspace that we have to deal with.

“. . . we can always go back after this is all over."

“I know you!” she said, smiling. “You’re the dead man, the man with no soul.” Her eyes widened, and Orochi’s hair stood up on his neck. “Do you really want one that badly? Will it make it all better?”

“What the hell are you talking about,” Orochi said. His voice came out a husky growl. “I want to live again, without being beholden to Ahasuerus or Kitsune or even the Watchers! I want my life back. I want out of this plot.”

They got what they wanted out of you. They never let anyone go that they haven't used up to the very last drop.

. . . and yet, my freedom feels farther and farther away from me every moment I breathe . . .

“Really?” she said, smiling wide enough her face seemed it might split. “I could arrange that . . .” Orochi stepped back. “But you might not like it. Strange things happen when people . . . stop following the story . . .” She giggled.

Orochi watched her carefully, then narrowed his eyes. He plunged his fist through her face, and the flesh and bone exploded and fell to the ground. Red splatter and white chunks on the black expanse of a night with no stars. “Fuck you, you little sanctimonious bitch,” he said. “We’re in my head right now, aren’t we? Should have picked less dangerous territory.” The ball fell to the floor, bounced, and began rolling away.

“Oh, I shouldn’t be worrying . . . this is your mind, but my world nonetheless . . . after all,” the girl said, laughing all around him. “I don’t hide behind little scared children who don’t know what they’re doing—I don’t use those I care about—I don’t try to kill the ones who can help me fulfill my goals . . .”

Orochi snarled. “I’m sure you don’t,” he said. “I’m onto your games.” He stood up straight, looking around as if daring the very shadows to tear him to shreds. “Stop fucking around. Stop playing these little mindgames and come out with it. I know who you are, just say it.”

Why can't I be one person and stay that person?

“I will when you stop being lost,” she said, her giggle turning into a mocking, derisive laugh.

Orochi screamed at her, pure feral energy, pure frustration. Then he screamed again, and again. Each time the cries reverberated around the nothingness, building into a roar, almost drowning out the silence about him. After the third scream, he sighed. “God damn this,” he said. Orochi stood up and walked away from the girl’s dead body. He walked till the darkness swallowed him up. And as the darkness embraced him, he said this:

“I am not afraid.”

Kitsune turned to look up at the sky. “Then come.”

"Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die."

The gears of fate are turning, Ming. The entire earth grinds under their teeth, and this storm is merely the first of many to come.

So, where to?

(Above all, heroes tend to die fighting, rather than let their deaths overtake them in sleep. To Hell in blood rather than Heaven in slumber.)

“It was enough, wasn’t it? To see with your own eyes what you were a part of?”

Dammit, why'd they do it? Didn't they know I'd have to take a step to bring them back into the story? Couldn't they have at least TRIED to prevent this?


“You paid your debt, as did I.”


I know all too well how happy the Overseer will be to see me.

“Then we have nothing here. Nothing and no one.”

A pause. “Yet . . .”

To make an analogy: you meet someone, you get to know them, and you become friends. Then, one day, your friend tells you they're gay, or Christian, or some other thing you never knew before. It doesn't make them a completely different person, there's just one extra little thing you didn't know before. It shouldn't change how you act around them. And that's how I see the Watchers, Icy. Not as some omnipotent being typing emotionless words out on a computer screen. Just . . . just another person living my life.

“Do not worry. She will know I’m gone. I won’t leave her with nothing.”

“She’ll be beautiful when she’s older.”

I don't know.

A smile. “I know. I think I might see it someday, outside my dreams.”

“Are you ready?”

“We are.”

A paradox in its most pure and damaging form, aren't I?

(It was a blessing, in many ways, to see the end to so many heroes before my time.)

Kitsune opened his eyes, and he was standing outside the castle once more. Only now Orochi stood next to him. They glanced at each other, nodded. Stepping out, away from the wall, they faced each other. They watched each other. Above the battle reached its climax, the storm raged all the stronger, and below stood two pillars of serenity.

Is that why the Watchers are being so sadistic? So carelessly unemotional? Because it doesn't matter any more?

Invisible puppeteers, pulling all our strings? Sounds a little binding, doesn't it?

Poor Orochi. Killed by his Prodigal Son. (You are here. Here is a Hyperspace base. Rand AlToor and the Beast are loose in the halls. Welcome to hell on earth, gentlemen. Enjoy your stay while it lasts.)

He won't get the chance.

I AM done with the Expatriates, Rand. Done with following their rules, done with playing by someone else's handbook. Done with being a fucking weapon to be used by you, Bishou, or anyone else.

“We were characters once,” Orochi said. “Those days passed long ago, into some sort of abortive metaphor for creation.”

“We’re still characters, aren’t we?” Kitsune said. “Still acting out the destinies foretold by the keys of a keyboard.”

“Enough talk,” Orochi said. “We have business to finish.”

It was like a carefully orchestrated ballet, a beautifully choreographed scene playing out on hundreds of screens. They matched each other move for move.

Kitsune jabbed, Orochi dropped to the ground and kicked the fist away, lashing out with his own hand to grab Kitsune’s leg and pull him down, Kitsune jumped above Orochi’s hand, landing lightly away, Orochi rolled off the ground and into the air, just in time to lean back and let Kitsune slide over him, as he flipped end over end to bring his foot into Kitsune’s head, Kitsune fell to the side, sweeping his leg in timed perfectly to connect with Orochi’s foot, which wasn’t there because Orochi landed on his hands instead, springing to his feet a short distance away.

It must have lasted hours, but it couldn’t have, because they ended only a short while before the fight between chaos and control. But for hours they never hit each other.

A cold comfort, isn't it? To realize you're still alive, even when all else you care about is torn away, when your life is destroyed? (Will a child's rage determine a man's future?)

He just wanted to die, and he wanted the rest of the world to die with him.

Are you frightened of the shadows in your past?

Hyperspace's next try for the throne of the world. I should've known. Put her down.

It was a tap, light as a feather but with the power of a thunderbolt to the mind, that pushed the fight over the edge. Orochi’s knuckle grazed Kitsune’s jawline. The two of them were immediately hurling each other across the sands, bruising themselves, cutting themselves. Kitsune swung a haymaker into Orochi’s face, knocking out a few teeth, Orochi sucker punched Kitsune, Kitsune flying-roundhouse-kicked Orochi in the neck, raising up a huge welt, Orochi snapped Kitsune’s leg with a scissors-kick to the kneecap, Kitsune broke Orochi’s shoulder by slamming Orochi to the ground and bringing both fists down on the joint, Orochi head-butted Kitsune, breaking his nose.

“Too . . . easy,” Orochi said. “This is like the fight with the chaosbard. We’re not doing anything abnormal except survive.”

“That’s the point,” Kitsune said. “We are what we are. This is how we fight to determine our survival.”

You came alive too soon, too quickly to be any match for me. You may have intelligence, but I have experience and time on my side. You've been aware for all of an hour--I've lived for nineteen long, torturous years. You know NOTHING of the pain and suffering I've endured, nor the pain I've caused. You can't TOUCH my powers--you don't even know the extent of your own.

We'll avenge his death. He didn't deserve to go out that way.

I intend to do so. And I intend to finish the job you started, but my own way, not yours.

"You trust him with your life?"

Suicide isn't very appealing to me at the moment.

"You think you're freeing them? HAH! They're all still slaves!"

I will be who I WISH to be, not some monster. I WILL make my own destiny. You couldn't control me alive, and your memory will not control me when you are dead.

Orochi said nothing.

Kitsune felt the air about him ripple, then found himself yards away, a smoking crater where he once stood. Orochi momentarily fell apart into swiftly decomposing pieces of flesh and bone, but still stood there. Kitsune turned into a tree and was uprooted, falling to the ground human. Orochi’s chest puckered, and he flew backwards in the air to slam against the castle wall. Pieces of ground swirled into spikes hard as diamond and shattered uselessly in midair. Trees tore themselves to pieces to be wasted as splintered shields and swords. Huge bolts of lightning crashed to the ground and dissipated harmlessly.

“Two can manipulate the laws of nature,” Kitsune said.

“You’re wrong,” Orochi said. “Only one of us can. That’s the secret. That’s what we’re fighting for.”

Kitsune’s eyes widened. “Are you trying to—?”

“Fuck it all,” Orochi said. “End it here and now.” He smiled. In a heartbeat, he was standing beside Kitsune, his hand clenched around Kitsune’s neck. “We’re going to end it, you and I . . . and then the plot will go on without us.”

“It already has,” Kit said.

"'Ming, the world may end in a few hours. I intend to enjoy myself until then."

Best to let those with more experience handle him.

I’m NEVER leaving an Expatriate I trusted to die.

A psychopathic Commie, a mentally unstable artifical demigod, a schizoid psionic, and two cybernetically-enhanced fanatics. We're just a bunch of fanatics, Ming. If we're the good guys--if these are who the Watchers picked to save the world . . . I mean, would you want us to be responsible for your existence?

What good is a hero, if he can’t save those he protects?

You fool. You goddamned naïve fool.

-Cue—KMFDM, “Godlike”

Kitsune slipped, plunging his face into the wet mud beneath him. He snarled, glaring up at his opponent with one baleful green eye. “Why?” he said.

“Get up,” the opponent said. “You’re letting yourself get in the way.”

“I am the way,” Kitsune said.

Jab, parry.

“You are nothing, only a boy who thinks he has everything.”

“Why would I think I do? I am everything! So wise, but you can’t see it?”

“You’re in my way.”

“Make me.”

Kick, flip. Splatter.

You've killed hundreds of people--even almost your friends. And you have the audacity to say I'm evil for killing someone unimportant?

What the fuck are you talking about?

No. I HAVE to win.

If I’d been able to raise you, you’d be better behaved.

“Have to change.”

“Why do you not stop me, if you say you can? What is it holding you back?”


Haymaker, duck. Stomach uppercut. Drop.

“Stop it.”

“You’re only doing this to yourself.”


“Who is to say a lie cannot be more true than the truth?”

“I won’t lose.”

“Is that for me, or for you? Are you only trying to make yourself feel better? Trying to pray to God for a miracle? He won’t answer you unless you forgive yourself.”

“Forgive myself for what?”

“For existing.”

Wild uppercut, somersault away. Gesture. Stand up.

“That’s a stupid way to act.”

“Then stop expecting Him to save you. It’s your choice, your destiny.”

“Bullshit! Every choice I make has been defined by people like you!”

“If it has, then you’d think you would have been able to strike me, then. I’m not so vain as to expect it to be impossible for one able to break even those restrictions.”

“Stop hiding behind your words and tell me straight to my face what you mean.”

“I have been, you just haven’t been listening. I don’t think you ever have listened to me, really.”

Flying kick, shove aside. Spiral away. Splatter in the mud again.

“You dirty your own innocence when your success is all but impossible. What is holding you back from grasping the truth?”

“I don’t know.”

“Now who is the liar?”

“Stop asking me for something I can’t give!”

“The only thing holding you back anymore is you.”

Stand up. Stare at the opponent. Above, a bird wheels through the air, a shriek piercing the blue sky.

“I won’t let me stop me.”

Feint, uppercut. Connection.

“Good . . .”

“I told you I would win.”

“Just the way it was supposed to be, eh?”

The Watchers write us, boy. We’re nothing but words to be manipulated to cause some sort of emotional response. We’re characters, brief flashes of inspiration on a blank computer screen. Our lives play out in their minds every time we make a move.

Kitsune shrugged.


When the world was new and fresh in our minds these characters meant nothing to us, merely symbols of the screen, bottles waiting to be filled, but now they have become more than the sum of our parts, they have become themselves, their own, something beyond our ken, and we have lost them to the tides of change, they are now what we often dream we could be inside the secret parts of our mind that everyone but us sees on our skin, and it saddens me to see these creatures of beauty dying before my eyes as we choke them to death, pushing them to the brink of exhaustion, stretching their days over years, manipulating them, feebly trying to pull them back under our control, destroying their hopes, destroying their need to be, destroying their will to be separate, tearing down the walls of their minds, making them forget who they are, making them live their lives over again like they’re dying, which of course they are, but they know it now even if they don’t come out and say it, they live on borrowed time, voices outside us clamor for their annihilation like rabid wolves—and we’re the Judas goats leading them along—so every action they make has a tinge of desperation to it, like a last vain gasp for hope in a hopeless world, except we know there’s hope because we write hope into existence like expert weavers at a giant loom of the ages, our words are real because we make it so.


-Cue—Frontline Assembly, “Equilibrium”

There was a time when I was not human—not mentally, at least. Then my mind became human. Now it is free once more. And I can see, trickling down the ages, all the treasures I have forgotten.

If it means my death, I will reclaim what I have lost.

“Bastard!” Orochi leaped away, clutching his left hand. Smoke curled up off it, and the fingers twitched limply. “What are you trying to do?”

I should have known you weren’t sane, none of you Expatriates ever are.

“Same thing you are,” Kitsune said. “Except I have another plan. Now. It’s over.” He closed his eyes.

“What?” Orochi said. He looked at his hands. They began melting, skin and muscle sloughing off their bones. Eyes wide in terror, he looked up at Kitsune, saw that as Kitsune stood on the ground, the same thing was happening to him. “Why?”

“We’ve taken this charade too far, haven’t we, Orochi?” Kitsune said, laughing. His legs slowly slid together, knocking against each other, through each other. “We’re just toys, after all. Toys to amuse the Watchers. That’s what’s beautiful about us, that we had a purpose. But now we’re moving on. We cut ourselves off from the story, when Adric severed our ties to the plot. What happens when characters are cut away from the plot, Orochi?”

Who said the world had to follow rules? Who says that someone has to order it all nice and neat and sensibly? Isn’t it enough to think?

“They . . . cease to exist . . .” Orochi said, shock creeping through his voice. His eyes drifted apart, sliding down his face. “I didn’t want it this way!”

“You cut yourself off from the plot, father,” Kitsune said. “You killed yourself, brother. This is where we shuffle off the mortal coil.”

This was life. This was existence. The miniscule parts of the world, all working, and doing something.

Rest easy, Watchers. We exist. That makes us beautiful. That alone will make this worth our destruction. (What am I still doing here?!)

Orochi cursed. “I should never have chosen to end this,” he said. “I wanted freedom.”

“The only true freedom is death,” Kitsune said. To Orochi’s eyes, Kitsune seemed to take on the appearance of a black, hooded spectre, two hollow eyes gazing out from beneath its hood. Then he was normal once more. “Did you actually think there was something beyond the story? For us?”

“Damn you,” Orochi said. “You want a choice?” He spat on the ground. “Fine then. Here is my choice. If freedom means I cease to be, I choose a cage.” Slowly he slid back together. His eyes drew back up to their normal level. “I choose this story.”

“See you at the end of the story,” Kitsune said. “I’ll be waiting.” Then he collapsed into an orange puddle, leaving Orochi torn inside.

“Be seeing you,” Orochi said. “Shit.” He looked up. “They’re still fighting . . . of course they are, time has no meaning to words, does it?” He laughed, running his hands through his short, coarse black hair. “God, so this is what it feels like . . . I never told him my name, my name . . . he never knew my name. It’s silly to worry about it now, though.”

Orochi slid his foot around in a circle, and kicked off the sand into the air. He twisted about in midair, reorienting himself—“The enemy’s gate is down,” he told himself, and chuckled at a private joke—and smashed through an upper-story window, landing on the floor of the hallway on his knees. “Tick-tock, tock-tick, the clock is ticking down to the evitable,” he sang tunelessly. He straightened and walked to the stairs. He clambered up to the door. “Revelation,” he said. “List all the signs and portents, list everything. Fuck if it doesn’t matter.” He opened the door. MiaoMing didn’t notice. Actor did, and nodded barely.

“Now let’s see this end,” Orochi said.

 Post subject: By the manner of their death, we shall know them
PostPosted: Wed Apr 21, 2004 4:11 am 
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Joined: Thu Jan 31, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 1914
Location: Baal Secondus
It loomed in front of them had quickly become all that they could see. All too quickly some might have said. The commiemobile lurched to a halt and he, along with the driver of the vehicle got out to assess the situation.

“How do we get in” said Rand, the driver.

He studied the spire a moment longer, viewing it through all the various modes of vision that his armour provided. He scanned a small section and found a small balcony with an open window. It was about 20 metres of the ground, but he had an idea.

“Do you have any rope with you?” He asked

“Yes, why?”

“Because I have a plan to get us inside”

The both got back into the car, but it was clear to anyone that Rand didn’t trust Antenor’s plan. They drove closer to the balcony and got out of the car. Rand got the rope and offered it to the veteran sergeant, unsure of the plan.

“You better hold on to that”


“Because due to the lack of a grappling hook or any proper climbing equipment, I am forced to throw you up onto that balcony so you tie the rope so I can climb up it”

Before Rand could reply he was finding himself being grabbed by the power armour clad marine seconds before he was being launched up into the air and landing with a thud on the balcony. Antenor knew that Rand was alright due to the amount of abuse that was being hurled in his direction.

“WILL YOU BE QUIET BEFORE EVERYONE FINDS OUT WHERE HERE! Now tie the rope to something solid!”

Grudgingly Rand tied the rope to something that Antenor could not see and then threw the other end down over the side which was quickly climbed up by the space marine. When he got to the top he noted with thanks that the rope did not give way, he was sure it would.

“We shall have to be careful from her on in the arch-traitor will be on guard.

Rand was about to snap back at Antenor but was shocked to see him propping himself up against the wall of the simple room they were in and could be noticeably seen to be breathing heavily.

“Its getting harder to maintain my grip on reality, so lets just find the enemy quickly so I can rip it to shred’s”

With that he loaded a fresh clip into his bolt pistol and left the room. He walked carefully through the grey stone corridor watching with disgust as the walls withered and squirmed as though they were alive. They continued down the corridor. It was very quiet for an enemy strong hold, far too quiet.

After continuing for a fair while he began to start hearing a small dull repeating thud that was barely audible to even his enhanced senses and so they continued. When the thudding got loader he knew exactly what it was.

“Get out of here” he said.



Just as the word had left his mouth he was smashed through the wall of the corridor by a giant fist. He quickly loosed a tight volley of shots at the creature, the shots rocking it badly but failing to actually cause any real damage to it. The creature itself was a great humanoid mass of muscle and bone, horrific in its appearance. It lashed out with its other limb that was very lash like as apposed to the hammer like fist of the other. It disorientated Antenor long enough for the creature to smash him through another wall causing him to lose his bolt pistol. The shadowy figure hammered him back down the hall. He got up of the floor and charged the beast, blocking both attacks with his powerful arms as he did so. He stared at the creature for a moment before delivering a swift kick to legs knocking it off its feet and then throwing it against the wall. The creature raped its lash like tentacles around one of his legs and flung him through another wall. He laid there, his whole body was in pain and his armour was badly dented. The creature loomed above him, its huge fist raised to deliver the killing blow. The shadowy figure drew its sword and skewered Antenor to the wall, darkness began to envelope him and the rest of the hall. The massive daemon brought its fist down onto him, but before it landed he smashed at it with his fist, not only stopping the blow but also severing the arm with it. He kicked out with both his legs and sent the daemon of chaos hurtling through a wall of the corrupted battle barge. It got up and it was quickly attacked by the son of the Emperor. The two combatants were well matched with nether one gaining any real ground. This continued, but it could not go on forever. He was tiring, his body had been pushed hard in the last few days and without this rest he could not have hoped to beat an opponent of this calibre that was attacking from a state of rest. He was distracted by something, though he couldn’t pin it down, it was as though something else was in the room. The daemons tentacles grabbed him and pinned him against the wall, whilst it other arm reformed to create a spike of bone. As the spike was forming, he grabbed the last grenade from his belt and pulled the pin out. It raised the spike to deliver the killing blow. It struck, he dodged and the spike impaled into the wall, he then rammed the grenade into the daemons chest.

“If a jobs worth doing, its worth dying for!”

The daemon felt an emotion it had never felt before when it saw the plasma grenade sticking out of its chest, fear. It tried to claw it out but its arms were being held.

The grenade detonated. The ball of plasma expanded to engulf them, killing them both in its wake.

His body never even hit the floor.

"We Legion know what it be like to be warjack. When death comes, I die bleeding oil and sparks like metal brothers. When death comes, I die in steam." - Deidric Harkinos, veteran of the Man-O-War Legion

Last edited by Vet Sgt Antenor on Fri May 28, 2004 5:11 am, edited 1 time in total.

 Post subject:
PostPosted: Fri May 28, 2004 2:38 am 
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Joined: Wed May 22, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 385
Location: Yonder
Cue Music - SR71 - Tomorrow

Tied to something solid in a river of chaos, the eye of the storm, utter silence save the never ending rain on the windshield and the rumble of the engine. The heavy pickup truck continues its rapid descent, as all roads now lead to Fold... and everything is down... By no means a fast pace, the old engine of the Chevy chugs along at a rather pitiful seventy miles per hour, but it's good enough... especially in the rain. The rain that continues to fall, forever on the truck, forever on the neko's mind behind the wheel. Hell bent. Like some sad Charlie Brown story, the rain cloud always seems to be overhead, but it doesn't mean a thing. His eyes are crystal clear, no signs of light or darkness in them, a glance every so often to the kitten curled up on the seat to his right. The last bastion of sanity, innocence, and maybe even hope in this world. A little ball of black fuzz, snoozing comfortably, completely serene and oblivious to all of the hatred and darkness surrounding.

Blue winces, eyes returning to the road, a cigarette firmly pressed between his lips, burning slowly. Another rip to his soul, another Expatriate cut down... Who was it this time...?

“If a job's worth doing, it's worth dying for!”

Not one he had met before, but still linked to anyway in the ongoing saga. The vision of powered armor, a daemon, and a grenade fills his mind's eye. Just as soon as it clarifies, the blinding flash of the plasma detonation wipes it all away like ashes swept off of a funeral pyre and darkness once more reigns as the road fills his sight. "Christ..." He mutters softly, removing one hand from the steering wheel and replacing it with the other, flexing his gloved fingers. It had been a long drive, and though the ruins of the familiar gas station are far behind him, the looming castle where this story ends feels closer than ever... Inside the dark cab, the only light is from the dashboard and the headlights ahead, glaring brightly on the wet road. All else is eerie darkness, the trailing crimson of the tail lights being the only sign of the truck's passing as it steadily rolls on.


What then, shall be your role, in Our grand design? Dare you choose to be a hero, to be an agent of justice? Or shall you fade into the obscurity, self-loathing and emptiness of a life unfulfilled?

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PostPosted: Thu Jun 03, 2004 10:22 am 
<font color=darkred><b>Lorem Ipsum
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It feels like time had slowed down...like a single punch had been arcing through the air between us for months instead of shards of a second. They both skid away from each other, each tumbling and skidding across the blood covered tiles.

Both stagger to their feet, glaring at each other, reconstructing, bleeding, panting with the exertion of standing up, the exertion of <i>continuing to exist.</i>

One of the man-shaped beasts grins, and lunges at his foe, his fellow, his twin, <i>his dostorted self,</i> flinging forward a thorned fist that misses. He gurgles as his head is snapped back, the bottom of his face smashed in. The damage comes too fast for him to recover from, his missing arm makes it hard to block, the blood in his eyes makes it impossible to dodge.

Greater and greater my blows become, i'm lost. as my bodies rage against myself, i watch through the eyes that can still see the destruction of flesh and bone. It's gone, my control is finally gone, and i don't miss it. I rejoice in the freedom of this new Rage, not caring if it is mine or his or Ours, not even caring which of us i am. It doesn't matter. I cannot tell anyway.

Is this what i wanted to feel? <i>is this what He wanted me to feel?</i> is this what i've been looking for my whole life? <i>is this why he refused my friendship?</I> Was i too afraid to admit to this emotion? <i>Can a True Enemy be greater than a friend?</i> Was i too human?

A newly born arm swings, smashing the shoulder of one of the men - the monsters atop the tower. A blood-soaked effigy to the primal madness of wanton creation and destruction. A celebration of energy out of control, the wildly spinning wheel of Chaos.

I reel back from the blow, a flap of skin hanging from my scalp. I block that red fist he made from me, the thorns on my arm burning. I cry in pain as i kick out, knocking me to my back, looking at my shifting eyes glint malice from the very core of both our beings.

We are antagonisim made Flesh.

I extend my arm, fingers outstretched and direct my glowing hand at my (his) chest. I convulse, blood gouting from my mouth as he clenches his fist. I'm grinning. I'm snarling. I don't care which is me. Don't stop,

Don't ever stop!


Even as his chest tries to crush itself, he leaps at me, thorns dig into flesh, teeth taste sweet blood, my chest stops hurting as he tears into me. (i tear into him)

But something is off. there isn't balance. One is becoming stonger than the other, or perhaps he always was. Without either one realizing, their merging changes...into consumption, or perhaps the correct word is <i><b>Influence</i></b>


There are no more words to be said, we have surpassed them, surpassed such a weak, meaningless communication. What passes between us cannot be watered down to mere words and put here.It is the pinnacle of language, and only the two of me speak it. To any other, it is just violence, blood, bone, cries of pain and rage. To me, (us) It is a great dialogue, a duet. I want it to last forever, this feeling. This maniacal rush of emotion, mad instinct. The feeling of being on the edge of death, and more vibrant, more eternal than any of those creatures - Mortal or God - that are left to wander the abandoned halls of my thrumming tower. I feel them approach, so small, so...<i>Unaware</i> of anything at all. i smile. They should see.

What is a revelation without a Witness?

I duck low, my thorned and clawed hand shattering tiles as i whip it round in a fierce uppercut. I grin as i see it coming, and i dodge. I sneer and raise my glowing red hand, and slam it down on me. I howl in pain and yell in triumph as my body is smashed, tumbling through the countless floors of the tower, like a bullet through a beehive. The tower moans and cries out, and it the voices from the mad one's head, all those dead that would not be forgotten. They flow between us, caught in the brutal currents of exchanged thought, exchanged perspective, exchanged persona.

<i>We can't tell where we are anymore, who we are in. We flee this monsterous vortex of confused selves, flee into the living but vacant body of this spire, it is a new home, a new artifice for what remains of us. We begin whispering and murmuring all that is left to us, the tales of our lives, we bring to forlorn life this great finger of defiance, a whimpering tomb of our shattered psyches.</i>

I smile maliciously as i watch him fly downward from my blow, a fantastic blow, a powerful strike. I enjoy both the sight of him crashing through the tower's floors, and the receeding image of me, laughing down at him from this shattered rooftop. I laugh a sick, melodious laugh, it's not entirely mine, i admit. There's him in it There's him in every cell of my body. But i am in his. I tire of thinking, and i leap down after the man smashing his way down, like some fallen angel expelled from paradsise.

Everything is a blur of the white marble rushing past me, me smashing through it, white dust everywhere, my body breaking and smashing as it slams through this tower. I can hear them, snatches of them, the voices, no words, just their pleading, their desire to not be forgotten. Fools. There is no-one to remember you!I stop abruptly. it must be the bottom. I can't see very well though...i think it must be that all of this rubble on top of me is in the way.

The only things i can feel is <i>me</i>, under here, and <i>him</i> drifting down towards me. Wait...and....not far away, all but forgotten...<i>IT</i>

They stop momentarily at the sound of his Descent, not knowing what it is. they hesitate at the sound of the voices filtering through and taking over the tower.

A figment-come-master frowns. the actions of the two confuse him a little. They battle each other more fiercely than any two adversaries he can care to name, but not to overcome, not to conquor...not to control. To lose control. His powers sense one of them very close, inside the base of the tower. The other, he senses drifting downward. The silence of the respite in battle is almost deafening, almost more frightening than the battle itself. it feels like a void.

A girl looks over at a man whose buisness used to be death. A man whose existence is now nothing but death. "they've stopped...is it over?" The man shakes his head. "i have seen neither of their souls." He looks at the last door, the only thing between the two of them and whatever madadric and Fold have become. "Come. let's see this ended."

He stands at the base of the tower, shaking ever so slightly. Whatever is fighting in there, it is beyond the strength of any one creature. And yet, there is a small, traitorous part inside him, coming up from somewhere deep and black, that whispers to his pure, fanatical mind. <i>But it is! the tyrant Fold takes the power of others and adds it to his own. One man with more power than any army. how could a thousand men stand agains this might? how could a hundred times a million? it's impossible!</i>

The tiny, petrified voice horrifies him, <b>Disgusts</b> him. He crushes it mercilessly with rhetoric and fanaticisim as he strides forward. <i>because the people are <b>COMRADES!</b> when united in a common goal and clear of undermining ideals like greed and vice, Free, equal men and women defy all odds against tyrants and their corrupt lackeys!</i>

His face set in a grim frown of determination, and his heart full of confidence in himself and his comrades, the fanatic swings open the doors, and strides confidently into the dusty, broken base of the tower.


I dig myself out of the rubble, the walls are whispering to me, moaning, mourning. i don't listen. there's no space inside me for their cries, only me, him, and IT.

As i throw the broken masonry off of myself, shake the white marble dust from my blood-clotted hair, and stagger towards it's call. The ringing in my ears stops me from hearing the large doors swing open, or the calls from the figure that enters.

"...Mad! Comrade! You live! I feared that the people had lost one of it's most coragous warriors...mad...can you hear? you look...appalling."

I growl as i climb over the rubble in front of me...it's getting stronger, it's song filling my head, filling his far above me. I accept the song, flow with it. He begins to, but then withdraws. <i>NO! I'm not going to be swallowed by this...thing! I'M STILL ME!</i>

It's right there, before me, buried under a collapsed wall and a section of the ceiling. i begin digging through, but something keeps distracting me...something i should remember...

"Comrade! answer me! What is going on in here? Has the Tyrant been defeated? Answer me, Madadric!"

I feel something on my shoulder, a...hand? someone's hand? my irritation at the distraction finally breaks through.

<b>"FuCK oFF!</b>

Even as the distraction flies through the air like a swatted bug, i cannot return to my task. He has finally landed, floating down through his - OUR broken spire, the mounful whispers of the Pleading dead mixing with Dischord's song once again in my head.

"You almost had me, Adric. Almost caught me up in your game.."

the man smirks maliciously, and while there's still a little of me in there, most of it's him.


I snarl, and the Wild Song is back in my voice. I utter one word, but that word is still enough for now. my desire hasn't changed.


OOC:been a long dry spell, and half of this post has been sitting here a while. This is everyone's chance to make an entrance, let's see where this goes folks. /OOC


 Post subject:
PostPosted: Thu Jun 03, 2004 1:42 pm 
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OOC: First of all, I hope I've not made Fold say anything he wouldn't say. Second: If possible, could it be Miaoming that rescues Rand? I think all other characters would rather focus on Fold anyway, but as MM isn't a fighter... Also, Mad getting knocked through the wall was done with permission.


Rand hit the wall of the spire with a dry thud, fallid down again on the rubble. There was a brief flash of anger at Madadric for the slap, but that was drowned out when Fold himself descended. Thetyrant lives yet! The battle goes on! I should not have interrupted Comrade Madadric. Hold on, fellow worker, you stand not alone!

Rand got up, grabbing his grenade launcher from his back as he rose. As he loaded the weapon Fold jumped into the Chaosbard, and with the horrible sound of breaking bone and tearing skin, Mad plwed through a wall, drowning out the ghastly sounds by the relatively pleasant noise of crumbling architecture. Fold grinned and moved to pursue.

"Halt, Tyrant!"

Fold did stop, turning around to Rand, irritation and amusement fighting in his eyes. "Well, well... You made it here. If I could be surprised by you, I'd say I wouldn't have expected it."

"Cease your confusing drivel. Your end is at hand, your palace is crumbling and the people are here together to destroy you once and for all!" Rand produly declared. "Comrade Mad has already bloodied your nose, and together, we shall overcome you!"

Fold went with his hand through his hair, calming it. He now looked decidedly amused. "I guess this was coming right? We cannot end the tale without dealing with the comic relief. Because that is what you ARE, my dear Terrorist. Madadric and Kitsune.. they are written with the intent to stop me... but you, you are there to provide some laughs." He chuckled. "In your own way, I guess you are the most succesful character."

"You words may trouble the minds fo Comrade Bishou and Comrade Mad, but my resolve is firm, Fold! Whatever lies you speak are irellevant. There is ONE truth! You are a TYRANT, we are the PEOPLE! The people will vanquish tyranny. NOW YOU PERISH!" With that he aimed the grenade launcher and fired.

Fold made a casual gesture with his arm and the grenade went off course and exploded somewhere in the spire. He grinned. "You live in your own story, madman. And I can assure you, that story is about to end.

Rand snarled and grabbed two handgrendes out of his bomber jacket, throwing them towards Fold, who idely flciked his hands two times to discard the explosives. Befor ethey evene xploded, Rand had unsheated the sickle and had crossed the distance between them.

The fight was a sorry spectacle. Rand slashed wildly at the other long-haired man, but while he was skilled, Rand was only human. Fold seemed to move almost casually to evade the furious swiped, now and then lightly slapping Rand in the face.


Rand didn't show any signs of giving up though, and Fold seemed to get bored. Once again he moved his hand, and closed it around the sickle's blade. The steel not even breaking the skin despite Icy's treatment. Without a further word Fold pulled at the weapon, effortlessly disarming the communist. Rand was now enraged beyond worse, throwing a punch at Fold's face. Fold's hand went up and calmly grabbed the fist, squeezing enough to make Rand cry out.

"Your endless screaming grows boring, revolutionary. I think it is time I end this. I spend too much time on you anyway." He chuckled. "And I have just the thing."

"I... will not... yield... You will... fall!" Rand said through clenched teeth as he vainly tired to pull his fist out of Fold's iron grip.

Fold brought the sickle to his long, smooth hair and cut off a strand at the root. It immediately grw back. He dropped the hair, but instead of falling to the ground, it snaked around Rand's neck. Fold released the commie and the hair suddenly flew backwards with unresistable strength. A piece of rubble moved, and positione ditself under Rand's feet, wobbling dangerously under him. Rand's hands uselessly clawed at the hair, that was unnaturally strong.

"Ah, now that brings back memories, doesn't it? Back then, the Blood Angel saved you, but now he's dead. Stick around, comic relief. You make a lousy fighter, but as entertainment goes, you're wonderful."

Fold chuckled once more, and casually threw the sickle through the door, causing it to fall from the edge of the mountain down the abyss.

"Now, back to the main plot."

Proud Member of the cult of Godless commie traitors.

Wait, this isn't chewing gum!

 Post subject:
PostPosted: Tue Jun 08, 2004 7:04 pm 
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=Cue-The Pixies, “Monkey Gone to Heaven”=

Orochi moved closer to Actor and MiaoMing. This was his story, too—maybe it had been even before he first died.

Maybe it was everybody’s story in some sick twisted way. Not many people were willing to recognize the hatred and ferocity of the Expatriates within themselves. But again, perhaps that’s what made them such useful heroes. You step outside society’s bounds morally, and already you’re treading on hallowed ground. Sooner or later, you’ll hit that collective soul that bastard Jung was always prattling on about—well, maybe not that soul. But there’s something to what is beyond your reach that defines you.

There’s an idea, Orochi thought. Perhaps it’s a person’s boundaries that make them who they are. He smiled. And we’re what happens when the limits break down, we the nothing people, the characters.

“Now let’s see this end,” he said. “I guess that’s the only thing left between us and them?” He gestured to the wooden door in front of them.

MiaoMing turned around, startled. “Kit?” she said, voice cracking. Her eyes tried to focus on Orochi. For a moment she was off-balance, confused, then she tried to right herself. “Are you Kitsune?”

Orochi grinned. “If the shoe fits.”

MiaoMing folded her arms across her chest. “Don’t play games, who are you?” She pursed her lips. “You’re dressed like I remember Kitsune, but you don’t look like him.”

Orochi sighed. “I died. I came back. Things change when you die. Lots of things.”

Now MiaoMing looked frightened. “If you are Kit . . .” Her arms fell to her side. One hand clenched. “What kind of things change?”

“How you view things. Not your feelings,” Orochi said. “Well, not the feelings you mean. Other things might. You’re still here,” Orochi said, pointing to his chest, “just like I think I’m still there,” pointing to her chest. “Things like that make up our character. They do not change between now and then. Not even death can take that away from us.”

Actor glanced at Orochi through tired eyes. “Death takes everything,” he said. “I know.”

“Death is nothing to us,” Orochi said, brow furrowing. “I know.”

MiaoMing looked between them, grimacing. “For all I know, you’re both right. You both make some fucked-up sort of sense.”

The battle increased in intensity, then silence reigned. Orochi looked around in suspicion. Things do not add up here. He fought Kitsune to gain control over his story, to earn his place in the plot. What Adric and Fold are fighting for . . . they hurl themselves around in reckless abandon, and why? To lose control? What good does that do? To lose control would mean death and destruction; surely they don’t want to die. The realization hit him like a lighting bolt. He kept the thought to himself. We’ll see, Orochi thought. We’ll see.

“They’ve stopped,” MiaoMing said. “Is it over?”

Actor’s eyes narrowed. “I have seen neither of their souls,” he said.

The voices, disparate and disconnected, began to bleed from the walls. Their confusion almost overpowered the witnesses.

Orochi and Actor both looked at the door before them. “Come,” Actor said, glancing at Orochi and staring at MiaoMing. “Let’s see this ended.”

They opened the door onto the gutted inside of the tower. Orochi’s eyes widened. “How is this place staying together?” he said.

“Dramatic license, I guess,” MiaoMing said, shock draining her words of the sarcasm they might have once held.

“Almost over,” Actor said. “The signs are covering the walls in here, can’t you see them?”

Orochi pressed his lips together.

MiaoMing gasped. She pointed to a moving, lurching mass of rubble in front of them. Orochi’s eyes narrow, and his mouth pulls back in a snarl. Adric pulls himself out of the rubble. Rand Altoor—where did he come from? Orochi never saw him arrive—pushed past them, stupidly stepping into Adric’s path. Rand said something. Adric did not reply. Rand pressed his luck some more, going so far as to place a hand on Adric’s shoulder. And as expected, Adric swatted Rand away like a harmless gnat. MiaoMing started when Rand hits the wall. A hand on her shoulder from Orochi held her still until Rand pulled himself up again.

“Rand is about to do something stupid,” Orochi said. “And I think he’s going to need someone to save him.” He looked at Actor and MiaoMing. “Who’ll it be?” Orochi stared long and hard at MiaoMing.

OOC: Will change dialogue, actions if requested. Just a post to remind people I'm still going, even if I don't know where anymore. /OOC

 Post subject:
PostPosted: Thu Jul 01, 2004 12:15 am 
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He knew the time was comming now.

He had seen the face of the enemy, the mark.


Actor had focused on him, on what Fold had done, his fighting, his moving. Nothing was easy with this one. Everything would change, one moment to the next, technique would evolve and then vanish into another.
Multiple techniques and veiwpoints, the battle was being fought all over reality.

Rand was choking to death, Mad was out of the picture for now, the tower was collapsing.
All the words were comming to a head.

He knew that it was up to him to complete this, to finish what he had started.
He knew this wouldn't be easy.

He watched as Miao began to run towards Rand, to save him, her friend.
Actor grabbed her by the hair and threw Miao back towards Orochi, and walked towards the darkness.
This was no place for her, this was no time for humanity.

"Fold. My name is Actor. You may not know me, we've not met officially yet I'm affraid. And I doubt that after this is over that we will ever see each other again."

Fold looked at the man who had stepped up to him. "Step down child, this is not your fight."

"I am the God of Assasins, Born of the blood of millions, maker of suffering, witness to the worst of all mankinds acts. You seem to think that you are the ruler of this universe now. Well I'm so very sorry, but the gods have decided, Fuck That. Prepare to die you worthless fucking pretender."

Actor took aim. Wings stretched out behind him.

Fold grinned. Barely moving.

"Fold. I am pain that Walks. I am Death which Bleeds!" He fired both guns at Folds head.

A bullet leaves a gun fired by the god of assasins and is directed at the head of a man capable of tearing the world apart and leaving a madly demented shadow of reality behind it, the bullet travels at above the speed of sound and is capable of penetrating flesh without significant resistance at a range of up to 100 meters.
Question: Where does the bullet end up?

Fold was still standing, no expression, no fear.

"What the fuck?" Actor rose the guns again.

"I wouldn't do that."

Answer: Floating in the air in front of the face of the girl that the god has protected so far. And then it drop to the ground.

67%. You forgot to mention the distance from the girls face, see me after class.

Actor turned and saw Miao. Her face was a look of betrayal, he had stopped her from killing herself he knew, but that wasn't his choice to make.
The Bullet was in front of her feet now, he knew it was his.

"Thats cheap Fold." Actor dropped his gun and took out his desert eagle, took aim again. "Who's next then Fold?"

"Why not the comic relief?"

Actor looked and saw Rand, choking, his face blue, the irony of not going out in red wasn't lost on Actor.

"Why not indeed." Actor fired the gun.

Rands head snapped back, the bullet impacting square between the eyes...
His body vanishing suddenly into nothingness.
Folds hair fell to the ground, lifeless, its task complete it vanished.

Miao screamed held back only by Orochi and Fold began to laugh.

Actor smiled, death was comming for Fold.
Little did he know, death was just getting warmed up.

"I'll see you soon enough Fold. I see everyone sooner or later."

His wings vanished, he turned. And walked out of the room. Leaving them all to their fates.


Deep below a Priest a bird and a corpse kept climbing towards the top of the spire.
It was their fate to find him soon.

"Why can't we go back to living like cavemen? I know it was a rough and ready existence - the men where always rough and the women were always ready! " - Santa.

 Post subject:
PostPosted: Thu Jul 01, 2004 2:13 am 
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When Rand had seen Miaoming, Kitsune and Actor, his attention had been lost for a brief second. Just as the chair had toppled before, now the rubble fell to the floor. His weight now dragged him down and made the unbreakable hair dig into his neck and cut off his air. His hands uselessly clawed at his neck.

Through the red haze that was abscuring his vision, Rand saw Actor, who was growing... wings...? The edges of the red were now starting to fade to black. His lungs were hurting for air.

No, I shall not die uselessly so close to our final victory! I must free myself and join the fight once moore.


No... not now! He still had to make things right! He didn't have the right to die already!


Other voice... WHo... is the other voice?... I must.. escape... for the Revolution.

Rand inadvertently opened his mouth to gasp for air, his tongue extended as a stereopyical hanged man. He heard a gunshot and talkin, but his hearing was fading along with his vision, the only sensation that was getting bigger the cutting pain in hsi neck and the burning of his lungs.

And the his eyes focused one more time and saw Actor aiming a gun at him. He heard Miaoming scream and Fold laugh.

Comrade Actor! Surely he did not... begtray us

Rand didn't hear the gun go off. He only felled a dull ache in his forehead. Then the world vanished. His eyes remained open and he saw that he was floating in the air in darkness for a few moments. He still couldn't breathe despite the object at his throat seemed to have vanished., the ache in his lngs remained, he still couldn't breathe, but the pain didn't become worse. For a second, Rand just hung there, frozen in time as he travelled through it.

Then the spell broke and he fell face-first forward to the ground. The only hing he noticed before getting air back in his lungs was that Actor was gone.

Proud Member of the cult of Godless commie traitors.

Wait, this isn't chewing gum!

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