7a - Reversal of Fortune

[Shadow Phoenix]

Bax brought his mind back to sharp focus and watched his steps. They were running quickly, and he had just been following blindly. They were just trying to avoid the sounds of confrontation as best as possible. Bax was lucky that he hadn’t gotten lost in his stupor of memory. Finally they got to a spot near the center of Nibelheim and Claire pointed to a building.

“Right there!” she screamed. “That’s where we’re headed.”

Bax narrowed his eyes in determination and was tempted to run faster than these humans and get there as soon as possible. It would be so nice to get his hands back on the Diroxauralis and the Valermos. Then he could truly fight. Bax grinned as the building grew larger and larger. And then he heard a gunshot and leapt back. The ground before him exploded in a tremendous shower of sand and he looked up and all around him to see Zion soldiers descending from the walls and surrounding them.

“Well he was here after all!” cried one of the soldiers, one who looked like a commander, coming out into the open from the top of one of the buildings. He was accompanied by a cloaked figure who distinctly looked like yet another member of the Holy Order of the Magi. What were they doing here? And why…wait, were they here looking for him?
“Of course he’s here,” responded the cloaked man.
Adam and Claire stood back to back with Bax, looking all around them. “What’s going on? Why aren’t they shooting us?” whispered Claire.
“They’re here for me,” Bax breathed back. “I am almost certain.”
Adam got this incredulous look in his eyes and he turned his head over his shoulder to glance at Bax. His face was still set with determination, but his eyes looked more sullen now.

More memories came flooding back…

* * *

Everything was going well with Photonia. Unfortunately, the stress of Bax’s impending official coronation and indoctrination into the Firago monarchy was a lot to handle. They were both also finishing up with their secondary education (yes, of course they took classes at the local school). With graduation and everything still looming before them, they decided to hold the wedding until after graduation and the coronation. But then…

Auralis was attacked during Bax’s coronation. And the whole time, Bax just worried about his fiancée. When the massive ship crashed into the palace and decimated, Bax was separated from Photonia for hours. The last thing he saw before someone tackled him off the platform was his fiancée trying to help everyone else, ushering the frightened peoples about in her tattered dress. Even while he was being coaxed to get to a safe place, he refused. He had to make sure she was all right. And no one was going to stop him.

Little did he know how capable she was…

She had apparently infiltrated the palace through a secret entrance he had shown her with a classmate in tow, and they had gotten into a weapon’s storage locker and fought their way up to Bax’s office, where they took control of the palace defense systems and helped the Auralisian army flush the invaders out room by room.

Seeing her at work in the days afterwards, checking in on injured civilians and soldiers, pushing herself without sleep…it made Bax’s heart ache. His fiancée was extraordinary. But as much as he wanted to marry her, he felt a duty to his people to seek out the perpetrators of the attack and bring them to justice. He was gone for about 2 weeks…and things had not gone well on the expedition. Bax had been in a coma for another 2 weeks.

All that time not seeing her—it was awful. He missed her something terrible. But all that time he had to think—he told her he wanted to move on and not waste any more time.

They were married two weeks later. Everything was well again…

* * *

“Bax Firago,” called out the commander from on high. “I’m glad we ran into you. You will come with us, or we’ll kill you. And don’t try anything funny. We have you surrounded.”
Bax stared daggers at the Zionite above him and his eyes turned a deeper shade of red.
“If I go with you, will you leave Nibelheim alone?”
The commander laughed, “No, we’ll be razing this little hole to the ground. We didn’t come here for you, but my hooded friend here said that he felt you were here. So we’re bringing you in for a bonus.”
They wouldn’t be able to kill him…if his going with them wouldn’t help, then he would have to help them. But he wouldn’t be able to stick around.

Get the weapons.
Get Lynx.
Get out.

It would be easy…he hoped. Now he just had to get past these soldiers, lay waste to them, and help Nibelheim a little. If he could just…

“You bastards won’t be able to kill us so easily!” Adam screamed from behind Bax. He cocked the mechanism on his gun and turned the barrel towards the commander. Bax’s eyes widened and he looked back at the human.
“No!” he began to scream, reaching back to delay the inevitable. But it was too late.

Bax heard the explosion of the gun from a rooftop above and saw the instant that the bullet met Adam between his eyes. His green eyes flared and then went gray as he violently fell to the ground, dead.

Claire shrieked and backed away for a moment, gasping and looking at Adam’s fallen body and the gathering pool of blood below his head. She fell onto his body and cradled his bloody head in her hands, screaming his name and trying to bring him back to life. Her tear-stained face filled with rage and her hands shook around her guns as she rose up and latched onto the nearest enemy with malice.
“Die, bastards!” she screamed as she opened fire. She started running and avoided the first gunshot. One guard fell from the roof and hit the ground neck first. He wasn’t moving.

“No, Claire, get out of here!” Bax screamed. He looked at Adam’s body—what the hell was going on?!

Another guard fell down and then everyone began firing their weapons. Bax saw blood spurt from Claire’s left shoulder and she stumbled, but got back up and continued firing. Another guard fell, crunching into the side of a nearby building on the way down.

Move.

“I can’t!”

Yes you can. Move. Stop this. Kill ‘em all.

Bax’s fingers twitched and his knees began to shake. Move!

Then Claire went down and dropped her guns. She clutched her stomach and writhed in agony, screaming at Zion’s soldiers, calling them every name she could think of.

Move—help her!

Bax’s knees shook and he took a step towards her. Maybe he could still save her. If he could just…while all the soldiers were reloading.

A soldier jumped down from the roof and pulled out a pistol, leveling it between Claire’s eyes as she tried to reach for her weapons in spite of her pain. She coughed up blood and looked back at Adam’s body for a moment, tears running down her face.
“Nooo!” she screamed as she wrenched her gun from the sand and whirled it on her attacker.

They both squeezed their triggers.

Claire missed.

The other soldier didn’t.

Claire fell to the ground and Bax looked into her lifeless eyes as the green faded from them. No…

No…

[Shadow Phoenix]

It was all too familiar…all of it…

Auralis went to war with Kisenia a few months after Bax and Photonia’s wedding. There were major scandals and misunderstandings that led to the outbreak—and nothing was ever quite solved. It was a bloody war. It stretched to Auralis’ colony planet, Delseiran, and scorched the skies of both Kisenia and Auralis. Battlefields and cities alike ran with blood as everyone was engaged in the combat.

How many times was Bax fighting alongside his fellow men when he saw them get their heads blown off?

It was supposed to be an easy campaign—a recon mission—getting some Kisenian plans, and getting back out. Easy.

They got the plans.

But they were ambushed on the way out. Kahiro, Bax’s best friend (and the best man at his wedding), was running next to him on their way out. They were just chatting--like old times. Smiling. Chuckling lightly despite the tense situation. Then they came up to the top of a hill and Kahiro dove in front of Bax. His body was instantly riddled with bullets and his head was blown half off. He collapsed back into Bax’s arms and Bax stared aghast at his dead friend, his hands quivering as he futilely tried to heal him with fire. The other men on the mission took out the gunmen and dragged Bax away from Kahiro as he screamed in rage.
“Come on, your majesty, we can’t stay here!”
But Bax could only scream and try to struggle to get back to Kahiro.

He would later thank his compatriots for taking him out of the fray despite his wishes. He acknowledged that he probably would have died if not for their quick thinking. Still, he felt awful for leaving Kahiro dead there. It was so painful…

There was one glimmer of hope for Bax in the midst of the war. Shortly after their marriage, Photonia announced she was pregnant. By the time the war came around, she was about 3 months along (in other words, about halfway). Bax tried to get her not to push herself, but she was by his side whenever possible, trying to help out with delegation work, legislative stuff, whatever Bax was having issues with. She fainted many times as a result of pushing herself, and was put on bed rest about a week before giving birth. Bax was worried she might die in childbirth. He stopped going on assignments far away, and tried to linger around the palace. No one blamed him. The military officials around him encouraged it, actually.

Jax Firago was born after a major victory in the war. While everyone else was celebrating a turning point in the war, Bax stayed with his wife and new son. It was his first moment of true respite in so long. Lying there with Photonia and Jax, Bax felt so happy. He forgot about the war for at least a few hours, and was just…happy. Everything would be okay. He could truly be strong—strong for his wife and son. That was all the motivation that he needed…

About a week after Jax was born, Bax was abruptly called away for a meeting with some of Kisenia’s officials who seemed to want to offer an olive branch. Unfortunately, the meeting was just a ruse. Bax and those accompanying him had to fight out of the Kisenian compound. They hijacked a vehicle (their own had been destroyed) and raced back to the palace. Bax felt something in his gut…something was wrong.

The first hint was the military police blockade around the palace. The second was the body strewn across the steps leading to the palace, and the large blood stains all up and down the marble stairs. Bax demanded to know what happened, but couldn’t get a straight answer. He leapt over the blockade and ran into his home—no one could stop him, through they tried their best.

Bax followed the path of blood, passing bodies all the way.

Through the hall of kings…
Up through the main foyer…
Down the hall…
And to his and his wife’s room…

Bax couldn’t go in for the longest time. He stood there, tasting the stale, blood-stained air in his mouth. He didn’t want to see what was on the other side—he just felt like vomiting. His stomach quivered and every muscle in his body burned with fatigue and pain. He fell to his knees, trying to muster up the courage to open the door.

When he finally did, he wished that he hadn’t. The room had blood all over it, flung seemingly randomly. There were three soldiers who lay dead near the door, their faces stretched in anguish and horror. And near the bed…

Next to their child’s crib…

Lay Photonia…

But she looked…peaceful. Violently killed, but with peace reigning on her face…

Jax suddenly cried out from his crib, his shrill, sharp moans bringing Bax to the realization that this…was reality…

Bax would later find out that a lone assassin had come into the palace seeking to kill Jax. Photonia was the last line of defense, and she dealt the assassin a lethal blow before succumbing to her wounds. She ejected him from the window, where the killer was chased out of the city, but not apprehended. Photonia crawled back and made sure that Jax was all right…and then she died…

Bax collapsed into his wife’s cold body and wept, bawling miserably. Just days before he had held her so tightly, so lovingly…and now she was gone…

* * *

“No more!”

Bax’s eyes went completely red and the flame on top of his head went wild, spiraling and sparking. The soldiers still on top of the buildings felt their footings shake and stared down at their feet as the area trembled. Bax’s shirt flared up and his aura burst into a visible flame, spiraling and shooting around with wild abandon. Crimson—with growing black streaks. The (formerly white) reds of Bax’s eyes began to develop black cracks in them, and his mocha skin darkened as his muscles rippled.

“Screw this,” said the soldier who had just shot Claire, his voice trembling. He raised his gun and rapidly emptied the clip at Bax, trying to finish the fight before it started. Bax raised his red and black eyes and the bullets slowed to a near stop. A full foot from his face, they all exploded and the metal fragments melted harmlessly, breezing past him.

The guard looked at Bax after emptying his clip and cursed, staring at him incredulously and fishing for another clip.
“Kill him!” he shouted to the others. All the other soldiers cocked their guns and unloaded all their ammunition towards Bax. But he wasn’t there anymore.

“What the hell?” screamed the soldier as he grasped his next clip and began loading it in. He fumbled with the cool metal in his fingers and glanced up to see a path of fire scorching the air before him and drawing ever closer to him.

And then he saw the eyes—the eyes of a demon.

Bax drove his hand into the chest of the soldier and his fingers began to pierce into the skin from the shear force of the impact. The soldier cursed and screamed as he vomited blood, and then his shirt burst into flames. He saw the ground getting further and further away as Bax lifted him up into the air and suspended him horizontally above his head for a moment. He shrieked and groaned as tendrils of fire curled around him, begging for mercy.

Bax continued his murderous arch and surged his hand over and down, flinging his full body into the motion, wrenching the man from the air and into the ground.

One last shrill scream rang off the walls and Bax’s hands passed through ash into the sand, lodging there in the ground.

Silence.

“My turn,” Bax hissed, his eyes glinting in the shadows of the buildings. He looked up from the ash beneath him and grinned up at the commander and the Priest. The Priest took a step back and disappeared into the shadows while the commander pointed his finger at Bax and cursed at his men.
“Enough! Kill the bastard! Extra vacation for the man who finishes him off!”
The square now stained with blood echoed with the sounds of shells ripping apart the walls, tearing chunks out of the meticulously hewn stone. Bax ran with that look set in his eyes—set for murder.

Bax went around in circles, dodging bullets and skirting around in the sand, raising a cloud of dust in the square and obscuring everyone’s vision almost completely. The gunmen almost couldn’t see the large blaze that encompassed Bax as he ran about. Bax stopped in the center and knelt down, launching himself up and hovering at the eye level of the soldiers. They immediately opened fire on him. Bax smirked and disappeared.

“Shit!” cried one of the soldiers as a slug hit him in the shoulder from across the way. Several other soldiers cried out in pain and stumbled as bullets tore into their stomachs and chests, or in even worse locations.
“Wait!”
“Stop!”
“Ungh!”
Men gurgled as they felt the sting of ammunition. They dropped to their knees, to their chests, to their faces, rolling in agony. Those who hadn’t been hit finally got the picture and stopped firing, allowing their guns to clatter to the ground as they looked around them and realized what was going on. It had all happened so fast!

“Gah…HOLD YOUR FIRE!” shouted the commander. He silently cursed to himself as he fell to a knee. He, too, had been hit—a painful slug right in the stomach.
“Regroup!” he shouted, looking for his men amidst the slowly dissipating cloud. There were enough that he could get some kind of resistance. “Leave the wounded! Just don’t let the alien get away!”

…where was the alien anyway?

The commander peered into the sand and looked for that telltale crimson flame that would let him know his target was still out there. Somewhere—right?

An explosion behind him forced the commander to steady his footing with his hands.
“What is going on?” he began to say as he turned around. The heat was instantly blistering and the commander felt his eyes dry out as the wetness in his mouth and nose turned to steam and began to choke him. Bax burst up from the building through the roof with both of his recaptured swords in his hands and drilled through the air to skewer the commander. The commander grunted as the blade passed through his back like he was made of tissue paper, ripping through the military issue armor and emerging out his chest. He could actually look down and see the blade, smeared with his blood. It was…surreal.

Bax walked to the edge with the commander on his sword and tossed him off the edge onto the ground about 20 or 30 feet down. As he fell, the commander slowly smoldered and turned to ash. Bax spun the swords in the air and sheathed them on his back, then looked out before him. The entire city was now caught up in combat. He just had to finish up here and he would be able to leave this forsaken place.

And there were only a few left to fight here.

Bax raised his hand to the air and swept it from left to right. A gust of warm, nearly scorching wind rose up from between the buildings and cast the dust cloud to the side. The soldiers regrouping below were instantly visible as they shielded their eyes from the gust of wind and sand and rendered themselves defenseless. Bax chuckled and counted the number below.

“Ten,” he said lowly. “Ten of you left. Easy.”
Bax rose up to his full height and extended his arms, cracking his fingers. “Let’s move.”

Bax threw his right arm out at one of the soldiers and a searing ball of fire sped towards him and devoured him before he even had time to react. The remaining nine cursed and began moving rapidly, aiming their guns above and trying to organize their last stand. Bax shot his left hand out and another soldier on the left met his end in a column of fire. They began to scatter towards the doors of the buildings and Bax caught two more as they clambered indoors. Their screams…delighted him.

No! Stop this!

Bax’s fiery aura exploded and nearly tore the roof off of the building he was on as he propelled himself spiraling through the air and into the center of the square. The windows of the buildings burst open and the barrels of the guns stuck out from everywhere, trying to catch Bax from pitiful hiding places. Bax threw fireballs out as he spiraled downwards, and heard at least one grunt ring out and and set of ammunition cease. As he landed, he danced, whirling around, buffeted by flames. The ground around him exploded and flames responded, tearing through the buildings, incinerating windows, and decimating the area. There was no respite—just constant gunfire.

Bax once again crouched down and leapt into the air, flipping upside down. He hung in the air and cast a devilish glare at the five men in the buildings around him. This…
“…is taking too long.”
With a swift flick of his wrists, Bax cracked his knuckles, clapped his hands together, and shot out black and red balls of flaming catastrophe, straight at the foundations of the three inhabited buildings. One. Two. Three.

The last radio transmissions sent were cries for help and curses to Zion. Then the buildings disappeared completely. Hardly even a scrap of rubble remained.

Bax landed on the ground and took a knee. A smile crept to his face. That felt refreshing—it had been a few years.

Bax stood and turned around to face the storage building. His dark eyes narrowed—he should retrieve Lynx’s effects, if for no other reason than to have their advantages should he need them. He supposed he should go to help him if possible. But for now…

Lynx could wait.

It was time to have fun…

[ForeverZeroUltima]

“How long have I been out?”

“Only for a while. Rest assured, Lynx, everything will be alright.”

“What…the hell…happened to me?”

“The curse of the mask changed you. Remember the spells you accepted from the Light/Dark twin sorcerers?”

“Indeed, I do…I must give them my regards once I wake up.”

Wake up? How did he know he was unconscious?

“I have to apologize to Bax…I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s not your fault. Though you will indeed need to clear things up with him, you must keep in mind that what happened was not caused of your own doing.”

“It was. I invoked the spell, and it changed me. I do not know if I can forgive my own action.”

“We all must accept change once in a while, Lynx. It is inevitable. It helps us move on. Remember, it is like the time I—”

Lynx blinked his eyes. He saw himself—or, at least, he was having another one of his visions. He was looking up at the sky, or at least trying to; the rain came down heavily, drenching his whole body and blurring his vision.

Lynx looked up too, to see what he was looking at. He was surprised to see the woman from before—the younger one with short brown hair and the small necklace. She had her wings spread out, and a sword hung in her hand. The blade glowed iridescently with the light from the rain. She was breathing heavily—no, she was gasping for dear breath. She fluttered slowly to the ground, where Lynx (or his other self) met her.

“Lynx!” she exclaimed, still gasping for breath. “I…I…”

“You did well,” he whispered. “I was afraid for you…I thought…”

“No,” she replied. “If it must be, it must…” Her voice trailed off as she looked at her own hands. They were stained dark red with blood. Horrified, she dropped her sword, which clattered with an echo against the ground.

“There was nothing else you could do. Though it nearly cost you your very essence of life, it was necessary to save us all.”

“You are right…you are right…” the woman repeated over and over as she pressed her face tightly against Lynx’s chest. “I am sorry to have worried you.”

Lynx forced a smile and put his arms around her in an embrace. “I am just grateful to see that you are still alive.” He nodded to his own words and patted her on the back.

Neither person spoke for about a minute. Then, Lynx said, “Your wings are getting wet.”

The woman smiled. “So is the fur on your face.” They laughed weakly.

“We should be getting back to the others.”

“Yeah.”

“…and now you must deal with your change, Lynx. You must struggle to move on. I would not like what would happen if you failed to do so.”

Lynx paused before responding. “Very well. So now I must deal with…my new change. Any difficulty I face, I must deal with swiftly.”

“That is correct.”

Another period of silence. “Where am I?”

“You are resting…you took quite a lot of damage, both internally and externally. The good news is, in your new form, your rate of recovery has increased remarkably.”

“I see,” Lynx mused. Then, his natural pessimistic side kicked in. “And the bad news?”

“The bad news is, right now as we speak, Bax is in a critical situation.”

“Critical situation?”

“Yes. I am afraid that until you regain focus—not to mention that you also must gain orientation on your new form—you cannot help him. This is something he needs to deal with. If you choose to back your friend up, that is your decision. In any case, I hope as much as you do that he’s okay.”

Friend? Lynx scoffed. “What makes you think that I hope for that? Like he himself said before, he does not consider me a friend. I don’t consider him one, either.”

“You are correct. Perhaps ‘friend’ is too extreme a word for you. Nevertheless, you need to watch his back, as he does you. I have a curious feeling about you two.”

Another long silence. Then, Lynx suddenly asked,

“Who are you?”

It was then that Lynx woke up.

[Shadow Phoenix]

OoC: Two months is too long. Which is why I bring another bit of the longness. Just getting warmed up.

WARNING: The following contains several bloody moments. If you have a weak stomach and an overactive imagination, I recommend grabbing a trash can.

Enjoy!

IC:

The noonday sun was clouded over by the dust dredged up from over two hours of constant combat. Gabriel, the Nibelheim soldier who had guarded Bax since he had shaken things up in the city, lay crouched in a small alcove on the corner of Main Street and 3rd Street. He cradled his gun close to his chest and shook silently as chaos reigned around him. Gabriel felt as though he would go deaf from the constant mortar shells demolishing the surrounding streets. Lasers tore through the dust, searing rock and flesh indifferently. Bullets lodged themselves in brick and bone, knowing no difference in their final resting places. And all the while Gabriel lay there wishing it would all just end.

He had fought his way from Town Hall, following orders to regroup here. By the time he had made it though (he had had to take several back routes to get through safely), the orders had apparently been revoked and the town had descended into madness. It had turned into a war zone within the first few minutes. Gabriel didn’t even know if anyone else was still around. He was too afraid to venture out from his position, afraid of peeking over the rock slab that had been blown from the roof of the house next to him and receiving a sniper’s bullet as a welcoming and departing gift right between his eyes.

Gabriel didn’t want to die. He was only 19! He had scarcely experienced life—he couldn’t die here! Gabriel lowered his head and offered up a desperate, raspy prayer to God or whoever else would deign to listen. A plea, a cry for help, for deliverance, for something—anything!

After several quaking moments, Gabriel felt an urge swelling up inside his chest to look over the rock slab. Against his better judgment, he lifted himself off his sore haunches and slowly raised his head to view the street. With his gun jutting out ahead and his eyes wary of the glint of a sniper rifle across the street, Gabriel suddenly felt an alien courage creeping into him. His eyes steeled with determination and he pressed forward, holding to the walls and peering out into the street. What he saw should have filled him with fear, but he was strangely calm about the situation.

The street was filled with dozens of Zionite soldiers facing away from Gabriel, firing their weapons viciously down the road at some target. It looked like—it looked like they were pulling back. One lowered his gun and reached for a radio.

“Chief, we’ve got a problem. The alien is resisting. Send backup.”

Gabriel suddenly got an idea—he had the element of surprise—he could pick off several of these soldiers from his hiding place and they would never know. Shaking with excitement, Gabriel took a step back and leveled his gun at the back of the nearest soldier. His fingers twitched and he nervously cocked the gun. One more step back to steady himself…

Crack!

Gabriel froze and looked down in panic at the accidental instrument of his doom. Of all things, a now shattered fine china plate lay beneath his foot, the porcelain grinding in with the dirt and blood and becoming one with the mess of Nibelheim’s soil. Just like Gabriel was about to become. He closed his eyes, gulped and waited for the bullet to come.

No—death wasn’t inevitable.

Gabriel’s eyes shot open and he saw the soldier on the radio raise his gun towards him. His eyes filled with malice and annoyance. He dropped down to a knee and opened fire on Gabriel. Gabriel’s miraculous courage (and dumb luck) inspired him to leap forward, crouch down, and roll on his shoulder. He came back up level and raised his gun. Just as Gabriel was about to pull the trigger, the soldier with the radio looked down the street at his target and his eyes widened.

A massive blaze rushed past and consumed everything in its path. Gabriel was blasted back by the mere force of the fire scorching through the street. A hot gust of wind whipped his hair back and began melting the gun his hands. His eyes stung and he felt everything in his being scream for relief from the sudden temperature change. He saw the flames for only a moment before he was lifted from the ground and propelled backwards through the perpendicular street.

After a hard landing, Gabriel got up and almost drunkenly stumbled through the alley back towards the street to see what the hell had just happened. All the buildings along the street were seared with fine black soot. Not a soul was left. Not even a trace of the soldiers remained. At the other end of Main Street, the former Town Hall smoldered with the renewed attack. It had already been destroyed during the initial assault. Now it continued to take a beating from all the other carnage.

Something suddenly clicked in Gabriel’s mind and he looked frightfully down the street.

One soul remained, walking straight towards him. He wore tattered black jeans and a simple white T-shirt with several holes burnt into it. The shirt was more a burnt hole than it was a shirt. The fiery mane atop the man’s head flickered black and crimson red. The same black and red flames swirled around him, accompanying his steps and highlighting his path.

It was Bax. But this couldn’t be the Bax that Gabriel knew. Bax was a kind, understanding alien who just wanted to get home. If this was Bax, and it sort of looked like him, then he was a harbinger of destruction.

Bax drew closer to Gabriel as he stalked down the street. Without warning, Gabriel felt his courage drain out of him as the color fled his face. His breath once again caught in his throat and he stared into those demon eyes—all black and red, filled with sadistic pleasure. Gabriel felt the overwhelming presence of death. Bax smelled of it, he exuded it from every pore. Gabriel’s knees locked up and he felt every bone in his body want to shatter where they were. He felt like he would die at any moment.

And then Bax noticed him.

Those eyes met his own and Gabriel’s fear numbed him completely. He felt nothing, thought nothing, and wished on everything to be anywhere else. Gabriel realized that he still had his gun leveled directly in front of him, pointed at Bax with the trigger half-depressed. He couldn’t move voluntarily—he merely shook. Every fiber of his being cried to him to turn tail and run, or to at least do something. But no matter what he willed himself to do, he could not move more than his involuntary shaking.

Bax raised his arm, open palm towards Gabriel. His already sadistic look changed to one of almost malefic glee. He slowly waved his hand back and forth, then took a step back.
“Don’t get in my way. I will kill you.”
The grin never left Bax’s face as he turned away and began walking back down the street. Gabriel still couldn’t breath, though. His shaking finally slowed and he dropped his partially melted gun on the ground. He just had to find another one.

Gabriel prepared to turn around to find a gun when Bax suddenly appeared before him with his finger seemingly pointed between his eyes. Gabriel dove to the ground and heard the tell-tale sound of a body hitting soil. He looked behind him and saw a Zionite soldier smoldering on the ground. Gabriel looked up at Bax with terrified gratefulness, but received only any icy glare. Bax looked off to the side and grinned devilishly. He crouched down and disappeared.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

Of all the terrifying things Bax had ever experienced, one the most frightening was probably being a prisoner inside his own body. It was like watching what he was doing through a camera, unable to truly interact. He watched as he killed those people. And yet at the same time, he was the one killing them and he was very conscious of it. Possibly more frightening was the notion that…he was enjoying it, too.

Bax lifted his arm, but it was not that lifted his arm. He was the puppet and the puppet master, putting on a deadly play. Flames swirled around his hand and he felt the heat soaking into his skin, but he was distant from it as well. A bullet grazed his cheek and he felt the pain, but it wasn’t his cheek. Neither was that blood dripping down. It tasted interesting in his mouth and caused a swelling inside his throat as his fists clenched tight.

The air before Bax simmered and the soldiers continued to fire their weapons at him, trying to stop this unquenchable flame.

“Why are they shooting at me?”

“They should die.”

“No. I don’t understand why.”

Bax’s thoughts went on without his mind and his body reacted automatically. The flames swirled high into the air and the puppet master hurled them forward vengefully.

All of Bax’s thoughts converged on the screams in front of him. There was pain and anguish, fear and doubt, outrage and ire. The screams rose up in a horrific cacophony, but were quickly silenced by the conductor’s wrathful, crackling flames. No more screams. No more bullets. After a few moments, the flames died away and the remaining noise of the city, though distant, slowly filtered back into focus.

Bax’s mind swirled.

“Why?”

No answer.

“Hello?”

“Shut up. You’re annoying.”

Bax’s voice sounded foreign to him and he was scarcely aware of his lips moving. And then the picture went dark and Bax felt alone. The puppet had been put back in the trunk, not allowed to see the happy faces of his audience. The prisoner had been slammed back into solitary confinement, unable to see the light of day or hear the free bird’s chirping. Bax felt small and alone, like a frightened little child. Alone.

With nowhere to go. No one to talk to. Nothing to see.

Alone. With nothing but his thoughts. His past. His memories.

And his memories scared him even more than the imprisonment…

[Shadow Phoenix]

* * *

High on a rooftop near the edge of the city stood four cloaked priests who observed the battle raging in the city as the horizon flickered with flames. One of them spoke in low, slightly annoyed tones.
“Zion’s soldiers are failing us.”
“No, they are succeeding in their objective. They are merely to destroy this city. The Senate does not understand our greater designs.”
“They are trying to kill him.”
“And were we not planning the same thing?”
“Yes, but we wanted to apprehend him first. He may still be of use to us.”
“If he comes willingly.”
One of the other two priests chuckled, “He won’t come willingly. We have no foreseeable leverage with him. But he is also alone. The people of this Nibelheim will probably not help him. And the other one—we still have designs for him. But I doubt they will work together.”

The first priest began to speak, but thought better of it and held his tongue.

The last priest took a step back. “I have things to attend to back in Zion. Sephiroth X seems ready to move again.”
The three priests laughed. They knew exactly what that meant. Things were truly beginning to get interesting.
The departing priest turned away from the others. “Do not forget what happens to those who fail me. Go now and don’t disappoint me.”
“Yes, High Priest Revan,” the three priests said with quick bows.

In a blinking moment, the high rooftop was once again uninhabited. Moments later, a rocket shell came screaming through one of the windows and wrenched through several prominent beams before striking the foundation and bringing the building to a deafening demise.

* * *

“Oh God no!”

Bax savagely took hold of a Zionite soldier by the face and hurled him as a ball of fire into an oncoming truck. The gunner on the back of the truck opened fire as Bax danced deftly out of the way and Bax smiled, snapping his finger. The truck exploded as the burning soldier crashed into the hood. The shrapnel from the truck caught several soldiers in similar trucks going the other way off guard. One truck flipped over on its side and caught fire after. The soldiers scrambled out of the way, running anywhere but towards Bax to avoid the next imminent explosion.

Bax calmly strolled into the center of the street and looked down all four ways. Destruction dotted the streetscape before and behind him, accented by high, burning columns of flame. Most of them were his fault, too.

Nibelheim ought to be thankful, Bax thought with certain delight. He had lost count of how many Zion soldiers he had taken down. There might have been an accidental Nibelheim casualty or ten because of Bax, but that couldn’t be helped. If they got in his way…

Sadly, though, it was starting to get boring. Common foot soldiers did not amuse Bax. They didn’t move fast enough. And they died too quickly. When were they going to bring out the big guns?

“Fire!”

Bax lifted his eyes and saw that dozens of soldiers had appeared on the roofs all around him with a variety of weapons. Rocket launchers, Uzis, grenades—the works. Bax smiled and pulled his swords from his back. Finally, they were trying.

Bax saw the first rocket speed towards him and he slashed out with his sword, trying to slice it in half and deflect it away. And then the temperature dropped. Bax felt it screaming all the way up his arm and threatening his shoulder. The rocket had exploded with ice. Fear flashed momentarily in Bax’s eyes as he realized the implications of having this many ice-based weapons careening towards him. They had cornered him.

“Shit!” Bax seethed. He swung his frozen sword through the air and blasted fire into it and around his arm to try and get the compound off. His arm was almost numb, he could barely move it. Even after the flames had freed him, the pain shooting through every nerve was immense. And the worst part was that it had just begun.

Were they seriously trying to kill him?

How had he let himself get this badly cornered? Those bastards!

Bax crouched down low and leapt up into the air just as the first barrage turned the center of the square into a frozen kingdom. Ice sprang up everywhere, cracking, shattering, melting and refreezing insidiously, racing up after Bax. It was acting in a chain reaction! What the hell was this stuff?

Bax felt a bullet lodge into his leg and knew that the ice was beginning to spread already. He howled in agony and tried to twist his leg out of the way. But it was too late—the ice and spread up too fast for him and began to wrap around him. The ice passed over his wound and Bax felt the stabbing numbness as it spread like a poison through him. The cold descended on him like a fog, closing everything out. The world began to become hazy. Bax was falling, falling, falling.

“I thought you said you could handle this.”

Bax roared inhumanly, his red eyes shooting out high, hot flames. Fire burst from every pore in his body, consuming his being with writhing crimson and black heat.
“I’ll kill you all!” he screamed, the pain and fear secondary to the fury.

Since Bax had been caught below the level of the soldiers, they were able to open a second barrage without killing each other as that first group had. Bax heard and felt the shells approaching and wrenched his leg free from the ice. He felt a savage crack and more pain shot up his leg. Though he shook as tears poured from his eyes at the pain and his stomach threatened to violently tear itself from his mouth, Bax leapt out of the way and spun around, wrapping a cocoon of flames around him. He slashed his hands through the air, constantly tossing more fire out to keep his shield up. The explosions continued and the ice relentlessly fractured around him, beginning to encase the area around Bax with a constantly reforming cloud of ice. He was trapped.

* * *

“He’s getting tired.”
“Do you think he’ll give up?”
“No. I suspect he’ll try to kill them all until he finally succumbs to the constant barrage. But he won’t give up until he’s dead.”

“Admirable.”
“Stupid.”
“Of course.”

“Should we step in?”
“No, I’m rather enjoying this.”
“But if he dies, then Revan—”
“He won’t die.”
“But you said—”
“It won’t come to that. I can guarantee it.”

* * *

“Keep firing.”
“But sir, we can’t even see the target anymore. There’s too much steam.”
“Keep firing, damn it.”
“Surely we’ve destroyed the target now.”
“Don’t make me say it again, soldier.”

But the steam was overwhelming. There was no way that any of them could see a thing anymore.

After a few more moments, the commander shot his hand up. “Hold your fire!”
One of the soldiers on the other side muttered under his breath, “Make up your mind…” He was quickly elbowed in the gut by his compatriot.

They all listened carefully though, noting the distinct sounds of shattering glass. They peered through the steam and saw that the ice crystal was collapsing in on itself and falling to the ground. It shattered on impact, sending shards of ice scattering all over the ground.

Either the alien had finally given up or he had somehow escaped.

Some of the soldiers began cheering, slapping each other’s backs and laughing about how they had taken down the alien scum.

Down below, Bax lay crumpled beneath a stairwell inside one of the buildings, gasping painfully and coughing up blood each time he tried to get a decent breath. His right leg still had a few ice crystals stuck in it, but was highlighted by the snapped bone sticking straight out and putting his leg at a pitifully unnatural angle. Bax shuddered as he looked at it and cursed at the bastards above and around him. In addition, he had four nasty bullet wounds through his chest, one in his lower left arm and another just below his stomach on his left hip. Other scratches decorated his chest and face where bullets had grazed him and where shrapnel had sliced him up.

Bax had dropped down from the death trap when it felt like the last of his strength was about to give out. He had collapsed onto his broken leg and made it worse as stray bullets struck him from all sides, ricocheting and ripping into him. He stumbled into the building and collapsed, barely able to crawl over here as the ice spread like poison through him. With trembling fingers, he had removed the bullets and used the last of his strength to try to slow the flow of the ice through him. He had nearly passed out several times from exhaustion and shock, but he refused to allow himself to let go of consciousness. He couldn’t die.

But he had to get out of here.

Footsteps suddenly echoed above him on the stairwell, accompanied by gruff voices.
“He might still be alive. Check all the buildings and find his body.”
“Damn it,” Bax thought, clenching his eyes. He would kill them all!

A line of soldiers began passing through the door. One of them stopped and looked over in Bax’s direction. Bax realized that his broken foot still lay partially unconcealed. He pulled it in out of the low light and cursed at himself.
“I’ll look over here,” he called to the other soldiers. “I’ll be out soon.”

Bax’s fingers twitched and he tried to summon some strength to defend himself. The soldier took an eternity coming over, shining a flashlight over every possible piece of debris. Finally the man stopped directly in front of Bax, showing only his profile. Slowly—every so slowly—he turned the flashlight towards Bax and blinded him.

“I’ll kill you,” Bax hissed.
The soldier smiled. “Still stubborn to the end, aren’t you, King Firago?”
Bax was about to launch himself at the soldier when those last two words clicked inside his mind. King. Firago. None of the soldiers would know either of those. Who was this?
“Give me a moment,” he whispered. He took another few steps in past Bax and looked for all the world like he was still searching. Bax cocked his head to the side, partially in confusion and partially in disgust. He was getting tired of this.
“I don’t see anything,” the soldier called outside. “I’ll be right out.”
Bax shook and he peered at this strange man, unable to imagine what going on. He was leaving?

“Maybe this will help,” the soldier said, turning back around to face Bax. A pained expression came over his face and he shuddered as two arms began to sprout from about a third of the way down his torso and a little farther back. His skin began turning blue and scaly and a tail grew from his backside. Bax’s eyes widened as the soldier turned into someone who looked strangely familiar. Even though he had only met him once, the first day he had been here, he remembered.

“Mike?” Bax asked, looking in wonder at the alien who had helped him when he had stumbled into that restaurant his first day here. How had he gotten here? And since when was he a Shape Shifter?

Mike smiled, “Some call me by that name. It’s not mine, though—the real Mike died almost 800 years ago when his planet was ravaged by nuclear war. He was actually a general in his race’s army. I’ve been told by the serious historians of that system that I looked very similar to him by all accounts. His identity works surprisingly well here on Gaia.”

Bax shook his head weakly. “I don’t understand.”

“First things first. You look like hell. Are you ready to let go of your anger now? You can’t function like this.”
Bax’s head suddenly throbbed and his vision blurred.
“No,” he moaned. “I haven’t had enough time.”
Mike knelt down and put his hand on Bax’s chest, “You’ve had plenty of time.”
“It’s my head, too. He’s weak.”
“He’s not weak. You’re just a stubborn bastard. And he happens to be more stubborn.”
Bax began shaking on the ground, weakly clutching his head and digging his fingers into his flesh as the world swirled around him.

* * *

“I thought I told you I had it covered. You took advantage of me, you bastard.”
“I’ll kill you if you try to stop me.”
“Shut up. I won’t be a slave anymore.”

* * *

Bax’s eyes flashed open and flames flashed out all around him as he gasped for breath and began expelling everything in him out in a scream. Mike leapt over him and forcefully covered his mouth, blocking out all the sound. Bax convulsed, unable to stay still on the floor despite his injuries.

When Mike felt the Phoeniyan king finally settle down, he removed his hand from his mouth and looked Bax in the eyes. The black in his eyes was fading slowly back to its normal shade of white.
“Thank you,” Bax breathed. He shook, still scared of himself. He ached all over, even though he wasn’t exactly sure where he was wounded. He didn’t even want to look for fear that he would throw up.
“Who are you?” he gasped.
“You want me to give you a hint?”

‘Mike’ stood up and took a few steps back. His blue, scaly skin began to change once again to a charcoal black with red accents. His face became taller, thinner, and more angular. Two yellowed horns protruded from his head and a mane of black hair with red streaks swirled into existence. The extra arms began moving backwards, further to his shoulder blades, where they changed in structure completely and became like a giant bat’s wings. The scaly tail rippled with strength and became longer, covered with the same hair, but thinner and more discreet. Bax looked on in wonder at the shape shifter, now in the form of a gargoyle, and shook.

“Black Spider?”
The shape shifter smiled. “So you remember me? It’s been a few years.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“No, just in hiding. Waiting. Imagine my surprise when you showed up here on Gaia several months ago. By the way, your progress on the English language is remarkable.”

Bax blinked and shook his head. Black Spider was a mercenary that Bax had run into several times four years ago and more. But he had disappeared—Bax assumed he had been killed on a mission. “What are you doing here?”
“Cutting to the chase? All right. I came looking for Necrostiana.”
“Why?”
“You know me, Bax. I was as obsessed a few years ago as I am now. Except I’ve gotten closer.”
“What do you intend to do? You’re one person.”
“Apocalypse has been calling me to him since he abandoned me and left me for dead. I’m going to make sure that he regrets his mistake.”

Bax coughed. “You’re insane.”
“Look who’s talking, your highness. Judge not lest ye be judged?”
“What?”
“Never mind. You still look like crap. You wait here. I’ll go take care of business outside.”
Bax reached a hand up weakly and tried to grab the mercenary’s pant leg. “Black Spider, wait! I don’t understand what’s going on here on this planet!”
Compassion stretched over the merc’s face, something very foreign to him (and looking mildly frightening on the face of a gargoyle). “Just know this, Bax. I’ve been watching over you. Making sure that you didn’t die. You’ve got to make it back home. You have a purpose here, but you need to wait for it to be revealed. Just stay there and wait until you can move again.”

Black Spider smiled again and his mane was consumed by a crimson flame. Turning his back to Bax, the shape shifter lifted his gun towards the window and fired out of it, screaming death in his soldier voice.

Chaos picked back up again outside and the shape shifter, now looking like Bax, burst out of the window and rolled into the street with flames surging around his hands. The guns began to blaze and the Bax look-alike sped around, wreaking havoc with all of the soldiers and drawing them away as he annihilated them. Bax smiled at the courage of his old friend and laid his head back against the wall. Before he passed out, he glanced at his leg and shuddered.

How he wished his friends were here…

[Shadow Phoenix]

“Apparently, Bax has gotten his second wind.”
The three priests stood at the end of the street with their arms crossed, watching as Bax raced towards them. He had demolished the team that had originally assaulted him and had since been working his way through the city to accomplish something else. Was he finally going after Lynx to try and find him and get out? After all this time of slaughtering Zion’s soldiers and practically fighting the battle for Nibelheim, was Bax trying to leave?

“Shall we intercept him?”
Bax stopped where he was and looked directly at the three cloaked priests. His eyes narrowed and he began walking purposefully towards them. Everything else seemed to disappear for Bax.
“It would appear that there is no need. He has spotted us.”

Bax made quick work of the distance between him and his targets, and stood at a face-off with them.
“The Order,” he spat. “You’re in my way. What do you want?”
Two of the priests moved forward and removed their hoods, revealing their face. One had longish spiky bright red hair and bright, sparkling blue eyes, brimming with energy. He had fair skin, but it was toughened by obvious battle. He had a ragged scar over his left eye and an intricate tattoo stretching across the right side of his face. He smiled with an energetic malice, young, but not too young. The other had long, raven black hair matched by equally deep black, slightly slanted eyes. Permanent neutrality was etched into his face, betraying no emotion whatsoever. This man had slightly darker skin (though he was still fair), but had no tattoos or other discerning marks. He was older than the redhead, but it was hard to discern his actual age.

The redhead spoke first, his voice matching his energized appearance. “What has the Order wanted from you in the past, Bax? We want you to come with us. Help us with Fallen, with Necrostiana, and we can rule this planet. Something may even be in it for you.”
The black-haired priest blinked slowly, “But we cannot guarantee even these slight promises unless you come with us. Otherwise—”
The redhead slid his finger across his throat, “We’re under orders to execute you.”

Bax rolled his eyes and crouched low, clenching his fists. “You all are always a nuisance. I won’t be coming with you or helping you in any way. Should I leave some part of you intact to make my point to the Order when I drop it on their doorstep or should I just turn you into ashes?”
The redhead smirked and shook his head. “You don’t get it I see. All right, then. I was beginning to get tired of all this seriousness and the monotony of this city-war. Daito, mind if I warm up a little and just take him myself?”

‘Daito,’ the black-haired man, folded his arms and stepped back with his other compatriot. “Go ahead, Kerlin. Don’t make too much of a mess.”

Kerlin grinned and held his arm out. “I’ll try.” Red energy suddenly burst around Kerlin’s arm and an intricate staff began to spread from either end of his hand. It thickened and curved at the bottom, showing obvious strength. The light caught and glinted at the top, throwing out an almost blinding ray of light as smooth, cool metal stretched from the staff, curving out into a razor sharp arc. After a brief moment, Kerlin held his scythe out next to him with a devilish grin, straight from the pits of hell.
“Well, Bax, I’ll make an introduction before I slice you to bits. Before I joined the Order, I was known as Kerlin the Archangel. Now I am Kerlin the Reaper.”

Kerlin’s black robes fluttered behind him as he sped suddenly towards Bax. He swung the scythe through the air, unleashing a piercing whistle. Bax flinched a little, but not nearly as much as Kerlin had expected him to from the sound. Hadn’t they documented Bax as having super-sensitive hearing? That was how Teras had been able to incapacitate Bax before, right?

Bax did not appear impressed, and he reached behind him and yanked both swords out of their sheathes, stopping Kerlin’s attack dead. The scythe hammered against both of Bax’s blades with a resounding clash, and Bax pushed Kerlin forcefully off. Kerlin recovered and swung his scythe around him, creating a wide circle barrier. The scythe crackled with pure red, destructive energy, shooting out bolts in every direction. One bolt sped towards Bax and he merely lifted one of the swords and absorbed the bolt (though it momentarily turned the blade red).

Kerlin’s eyes flashed in the setting sun and he pointed his scythe at Bax as the red bolts reached a fever pitch.
“Feel the pain of the Reaper!”
A large burst of red energy spewed forth in a ball, straight towards Bax. He held both swords up in an X to block the attack, though he did not perceive the rest of the attack. Following in the trail of the ball of energy were several other deadly bolts that raced along, arching around the area and slicing through ground as well as air on their way to the Phoeniyan. The massive ball of energy hit Bax’s swords and began turning them red, once again. Bax didn’t flinch at this, though Kerlin knew it was beginning to cause him pain as well. His attacks went straight through those swords to go after the essence of the person who wielded the weapons. There could truly be no parrying of his Reaper when he brought it out.

The other bolts arched around the fray as the red energy seemed to disappear into Bax’s swords. Bax looked up and saw them, but felt magnetically drawn to the attack before him. He could not move away or dodge. He was stuck as he was. Though he tried to move, he could not. The bolts were too close now to do anything else. Kerlin smiled as the realization of this seemed to register in Bax’s face.

Four major bolts found there way to Bax, trailed by smaller auxiliary blasts that could only serve to add to the pain. These four blasts sought out each arm and leg and drilled into them, cutting deeply with pure energy and wrenching into Bax’s core. Bax clenched his face tight and gritted his teeth, withholding Kerlin the pleasure of a scream.
“You won’t scream, huh?”

The attack subsided and Bax smiled at Kerlin with determination, even though his limbs were bleeding freely now from unholy wounds.
“Smiling? He’s smiling! He likes it!”
Kerlin swung his scythe out so that the blade curved around Bax’s head and the tip was edging just into his cheek. “You like the Reaper’s pain?”
A single line of blood dripped down Bax’s cheek and he smiled wider as he whipped his sword up and knocked the scythe away, ducking down and racing to meet Kerlin.

Kerlin wrenched his scythe back and flipped it around so that the staff end was facing Bax. The ruby red rage rattled around the end of the staff as Kerlin drove it straight towards Bax’s blades to stop him in his tracks.

Daito looked away from the battle at his other companion who had been strangely quiet so far. “You know something I don’t, don’t you? Why is Bax not really fighting back?”

Bax’s swords glowed red once again, then suddenly seemed to begin to bend. Were those holy, legendary blades actually being harmed? Could they break if they were pushed too far?

“He’s not fighting back because—”

The swords exploded in a bright flash of crimson light and Kerlin’s staff drove Bax backwards into the ground.

“That isn’t Bax.”

The impostor flew backwards, slamming into the ground a few times. Kerlin heard the last comment and turned his face back towards his companions. He had annoyance written all over his face as he narrowed his eyes.
“Please tell me you’re joking, Marco.”
Marco removed his hood and walked forward. He was a significantly older man, with silvered hair and a weathered complexion. His face betrayed no weakness one might heap upon someone of his apparent age, but instead showed a resilient strength set behind steely green eyes. His hair was long enough to cover his head, but conservatively styled and not allowed to go past his ears or to his neck. He was obviously the elder of these three priests.
“I told you. The man whom you are tossing around is not Bax. Show yourself for who you really are.”

The impostor lifted his face, still with a smile on it.
“You knew all along, didn’t you, Marco?”
“I suspected once you got close to us. The more I watched, the more I knew it was true.”
The smiled drooped. “Then my charade is up. I suppose I should introduce myself for who I really am as well.”

Deep black skin replaced the mocha of Bax’s complexion, and wings grew from his back. Within a few moments, a gargoyle stood at the end of the street where they had perceived Bax moments before.
“Most know me as Black Spider. I suspect that Bax is now far away. But I promise I will make fighting me plenty worth your while.”

Kerlin extended his scythe out towards his newly transformed enemy and sneered. “If you put on the same performance you did as Bax, I’ll kill you in less than 5 minutes. I welcome your cocky inclinations.”
Black Spider smiled, “Look who’s talking.”

Kerlin’s red lightning surged around him and he launched a flurry of chaos towards his newly revealed adversary. Black Spider raised his hands in front of his chest and grinned as a large black sphere grew before him between his hands. The dark matter before him pulsated and spun with black and purple energy as halos circled both the growing sphere and Black Spider. The red bolts were drawn inexplicably towards the sphere and were sucked in. The sphere flashed crimson and then erupted back towards Kerlin.

Shadow and fire became one and sought out Kerlin with heated vengeance. Red and black bolts ripped apart the ground as the large ball, bristling with an uncontainable amount of energy, slammed into Kerlin’s chest and plowed him up into the air, arching up at least a hundred feet before careening him helplessly into the ground. The earth split from the initial impact, shattering in irregular circular patterns from the initial point of impact and ripping out across the street. The crumbling foundations of buildings gave way and the street’s lining structure collapsed in a cacophony of roaring rafters and screaming stones. The red and black bolts converged in the dark sky and swirled around in a cloud of devastation. From his miraculously unharmed vantage point, a single pillar of ground still rising above the mayhem of the street, Black Spider raised his hand towards the cloud and viciously surged it downward, signaling a massive bolt of energy to surge forth from the sky and strike Kerlin’s body at the bottom of the crater.

Marco and Daito watched passively, only raising their hands to deflect falling slabs of rock from the buildings or stepping to the side to avoid a bolt. Daito was beginning to wonder if he should have stepped in to help Kerlin.

Marco saw the growing look of almost-concern in Daito and upbraided him, speaking just audibly over the crackling of the lightning.
“No, Daito. Just wait.”
Daito quieted his thoughts and nodded, lowering his head and keeping his gaze on the crater. How had he not seen through the shape shifter’s disguise? Daito cursed his imperceptiveness and watched for the next stage of the fight.

Black Spider finally eased his attack off and stood back to wait for Kerlin to crawl out of the hole of melted slag. The cloud of energy in the air dissipated back into the darkness and the steam rising from the ground slowly faded. The shape shifter huffed and cracked his knuckles leisurely, keeping one eye on the hole and the other on the remaining two priests.

And crawl back out, Kerlin did. Hand by hand, Kerlin drug himself out of the molten ground. His scythe bit into the ground and he pulled himself out like a snake. When he finally emerged onto solid ground and was safe from the risk of his platform crumbling out from under him, Kerlin righted himself and leaned uncertainly on his scythe. His hair was a mess and his black robes were singed beyond recompense. Soot and dust were caked all over his skin and he was bleeding from numerous abrasions that had not been seared shut. He looked like a mess.

Black Spider unfurled his right hand and a sort of clock appeared hovering above his palm.
“Five minutes is up, Kerlin. What do you think?”
A red bolt surged forward and demolished the clock. The shape shifter’s eyes widened for a moment, but relaxed in a sneer.
“I’m not done yet,” Kerlin said with a grin.
“I guess I’ll just have to change that, then.”

Black Spider surged forward once again, bringing his hands up before his face. His hands began trembling and twitching and he grunted as his hands became living weapons. From each finger grew a razor sharp talon, at least six inches long. A blade grew out at a right angle from each wrist, extending outward about four inches before curving forward for a foot. Several more large, sharp bone talons ripped forth from Black Spider’s arms, rendering his arms high untouchable without receiving serious damage.

The shape shifter picked up speed and met with the weary Kerlin, who savagely lashed out with his scythe. Black Spider was surprised at Kerlin’s remaining strength, but pressed on, pushing his talons forward powerfully. Strike one, the right, parried. Strike two, the left blocked. Black Spider latched his fist down on the blade of the scythe, drawing blood from his palm but effectively stopping Kerlin’s blade and leaving him open for attack. Black Spider drew his right arm back and flashed the blade forward, right at Kerlin’s torso. And like a meat cleaver, the blade tore through Kerlin’s abdomen and wrenched out the other side, casting blood onto the ground.

Black Spider let go of the scythe and spun around, walking away from Kerlin as the two halves of his body hit the ground. That was easier than he thought it would be. And he thought he was rusty after all this time on Earth. The shape shifter wiped the blood on his palm and swatted it to the ground. Mild pain—it would pass.

“Now,” Black Spider began, “Do I need to kill you two as well, or are you going to go run back home to Revan?”
Marco began chuckling. Black Spider turned to look at them. Had they gone mad suddenly? Even Daito cracked a smile, flashing for a brief moment what appeared to be fangs.
“He cut Kerlin in half,” Daito said, with the slightest hint of amusement trickling from his voice.
“And he thinks he can stop there.”

Black Spider turned around completely and watched as the scythe rose in the air and began glowing red. Wind began howling about, whipping the ashes and dust up in a cloud that stung Black Spider’s eyes. Kerlin’s lower half knelt on the ground, showing a grotesque view of his organs and guts as they threatened to spill out. Slowly, the lower half stood up and shook an ankle out to the side. Kerlin’s upper half lifted itself off the ground and began hovering to rejoin the other half. The scythe flashed red again and Kerlin was whole again. The robes were still shredded to ribbons, but Kerlin showed no signs of having ever been rendered asunder.

“What the hell?” Black Spider whispered, nearly choking on his surprise.

Kerlin smiled and reached his hands up, cracking his neck violently before grasping his scythe and slamming the staff into the ground. The cloud of dust fell.
“I am the Reaper, Black Spider. Death holds no sway over me.”

Black Spider smiled and cracked his hands again, bringing his blades up offensively.
“I suppose I’ll just have to keep cutting till I find a way to bring you down. I’m an assassin, my friend. I know how to kill.”
Kerlin threw his head back and unleashed a hideous laugh that descended into a dark cackle. He slowly brought his head back down and looked at Black Spider with glimmering eyes.
“You’re an assassin? A death-dealer? That means that,” Kerlin pointed a finger deftly at the shape shifter assassin, “You must serve me.”
Black spider suddenly felt the cut on his cheek and the slice across his palm began to burn.

“Oh sh—”

Black Spider’s arm and his cheek went suddenly up into the air and were locked there pitifully. He could not move them, though he tried to wrench his left arm out of its locked position with his right arm. He suppressed the desire to scream in pain, though his wounds shrieked for release from the pain. The control over his head was very light and minor, since it was barely a slice, but it was still hard to move his head. His hand was another story entirely.

“Kerlin, what the hell is this?!”
“My scythe has drawn your blood. That links us. Since my scythe has tasted your blood, it wants all of it. Death is vengeful, assassin—you should know that.”
“Bastard, let me down!”
Kerlin laughed again and peered back towards Daito and Marco with a look of satisfaction. “I told you I could handle this.”

Black Spider’s mind began racing. How could he get out of this? Kerlin was going to kill him if he could, and Black Spider was at his mercy. Anything Black Spider could throw at him, he had only one vantage point to attack from. It would be easy to dodge.

Damn it!

“Did you hear me? Let me go, you asshole!”
“One way, Black Spider. You agree to serve me and I can quench my scythe’s thirst for your blood with that of someone else’s.”
“Bax’s?”
“A proper sacrifice. What do you say?”

Black Spider looked down at the ground. His blades and talons slowly sunk back into his skin and he sighed. Damn the Order to hell…

* * *

[Shadow Phoenix]

Bax blinked his eyes several times. So Nibelheim had managed to secure a safe place in their city after all. The townspeople had set up an infirmary in the corner of the city where soldiers were watching all the sides for any enemy intrusion. Though hundreds of people lie wounded inside, more and more of them got up against doctor’s orders and hobbled to the barrack walls of the makeshift infirmary and manned a gun, often with one arm in a sling (if the arm was even still attached).

The people of Nibelheim were all valiant warriors. Bax held so much respect for them the more he saw them working.

Largely thanks to his and Black Spider’s efforts, the Zionite forces were mostly destroyed and routed. There were several small squads running through the streets of the city and flushing the rest of the enemy out, just to make sure. The Senate had certainly given Nibelheim a run for its money, but Nibelheim had weathered the attack and come out the other side all right.

Granted, their city had been mostly demolished. But the key for the people of Nibelheim was that they had one, no matter the consequences and no matter how. Their warrior’s pride was still intact. And that was all that seemed to truly matter. They would honor all those who had given their lives for the cause. And then they would rebuild. But they had won the battle.

For now.

Bax was laid on a cot and a few doctors swarmed around him to begin diagnosing him. Sadly, Bax was used to this. Back on Auralis, he had been injured more than a few times and awakened in a hospital with wires hooked up everywhere. How many times should he have died by now? He had often been told that he was fated for something greater, that destiny would not let him die yet. Bax, however, maintained the idea that he was in control of his own destiny. He did not believe in fate. His choices were his own. He survived because of his efforts (and often because of the providence of the seven Ancients). Still—he was not a believer in fate. And he was not about to start.

Though so many around him were injured, that didn’t mean that things had slowed down in the slightest. The doctors still had guns strapped to their backs as they ran around with syringes and scalpels, helping the injured but ready to turn back into warriors at a moment’s notice. It was a little frightening, but quite admirable.

The basic diagnosis was that Bax’s bloodstream had been thoroughly poisoned but that he would be able to pull through in time. His right leg was broken. Dina’s salve had already begun to work on Bax’s bullet wounds, and as even beginning to cleanse his body of the poison (which was more than just ice water). Bax’s memory drifted back to his first days on Earth when the Senate had fired a dart of blue liquid at him that had knocked him flat in a few moments. Could this be the same stuff? It was a wonder that Bax had still been able to walk after being hit by that chemical so many times (if it was indeed the same substance).

It was also still unnerving that the Senate had such a thing in their possession. Had it been developed on Necrostiana’s account? That was the only possibility Bax could think of. No other Phoeniyans had ever visited Earth, had they?

No, wait…what about Bax’s brother? Drax had come to Earth. But Bax doubted that Drax had any prolonged dealings with the Senate or the Order. He had come for diplomatic reasons involving Earth, but had mostly dealt with the heads of state from other planets seeking to claim Earth as a slave planet. Or at least that was how Bax had heard it.

Drax was trying to extend Auralis’ influence and gain more friends. As a planet with a growing exploration program, they needed access to various materials. An expedition had found Earth, or Gaia as it was designated by the people of the Jerredis system, 14 years ago, and Drax had gone to survey the planet. He saw the state that the planet was in and came back to Auralis asking for permission to break the Laws of Developmental Sanctity and establish formal relations. Earth was very close to developing warp speed—they probably had at one point, Drax had said. The Legislators told Drax that there was no way that he could breach the Laws. Earth would have to travel its own course until they developed the proper technology. Every other planet had done so in the four centuries of space travel from Auralis. Why change now?

Two years later, Auralisian recon picked up on communications from the Sketari of the planet Drundak of the Chath System. They had also located Gaia and were intent on making it a slave planet, using the inhabitants for manual labor and reaping their resources. The Sketari were a merciless race and prepared a large force to go to enslave the helpless planet.

Drax pleaded with the Legislature to protect Gaia, by force if necessary. This time, Drax’s pleas were accepted and he rounded up a large force and intercepted the Sketari. The two forces nearly broke into a large battle, but two other races arrived on the scene: the avian Tekuru and feline Primatans. The Tekuru came primarily to observe, while the Primatans were interested on the prospect of a slave planet just as much as the Sketari. The Primatans and the Tekuru were already at war and had a long history of aggression towards each other. Neither race had friendly relations with the Sketari, who had been attacking them both for a long time. The three had nearly annihilated each other several times, but the war was still ongoing. None of them had ever encountered the Phoeniyans, however.

The four races in this corner of the galaxy with the most reach and the most advanced technology met in one place that day, and there was a great chance for either vast annihilation or strong diplomacy.

Drax sued for peaceful relations and introduced the other three races to the Laws which protected Gaia. While no one really wanted to work together, Drax was able to keep Gaia under the proper protection until they developed the proper technology. Though the Sketari wanted to simply destroy the other three races, they knew that they would be overwhelmed, even if the Tekuru and Primatans experienced some infighting. The dynamics were not right at the time to try and stage a major takeover of Gaia. They agreed to back off of Gaia for now, and would seek any loopholes in the laws. The moment that Gaia was open to attack, they would descend upon it like locusts.

Drax was exhausted from the workings of diplomacy. He had established relations with three other large races who, in all likelihood, were more than capable of going to war with Auralis. The Sketari were the only race who seemed against working with the Phoeniyans, however. Both the Primatans and Tekuru put their differences aside and agreed to work with the Phoeniyans in tense peace (primarily for the purposes of economic and technological advancement). It would be a difficult balancing act. But Drax had succeeded in more than he planned.

Gaia was safe for at least another few years and Auralis was officially on the map along with all of their allies (and enemies) back in the Jerredis system. With all of this secure, Drax set out back home with his wife.

And then disgruntled Sketari pirates attacked Drax’s personal ship and destroyed it, killing both Drax and his wife, Imina.

It still hurt Bax to think about it…

It certainly hadn’t helped relations between Auralis and Drundak at all. Though neither race had gone and attacked the other in any major way yet, the tension between them had only gone up in the past 12 years.

That had been the only dealing that Earth had ever had with Phoeniyans, though, right? And it hadn’t been much. As far as Bax knew, his brother had honored the Laws and been only an objective observer. It couldn’t have been any different.

Bax lay on the cot, stretched taut beneath him, and looked around at the doctors as they worked on him. He heard them comment on how fast he was healing. Inside his head, he laughed. They should have seen him when his physiology wasn’t being hampered by poison.
“Bax, we’re going to have to reset your bone. We don’t have any anesthesia to try and make you comfortable, so you’re going to—uh—feel a great deal of pain.”
Bax acknowledged the doctors with a nod. He still wasn’t all there—he still lost in his thoughts.
“Is he still in shock?”
“I don’t know. Can we give him something to bite down on?”
Bax sighed, “By the Ancients, just do it and don’t tell me.” Bax knew broken bones weren’t pleasant—he didn’t need that point emphasized.

The doctors looked at each other and shook their heads. Bax closed his eyes and gripped the sides of his cot. The pain came a few moments later…

Had the other doctors not been holding him down, Bax would have wrenched completely off the cot. His body lurched up as pain shot through, up, and all around his leg. His nerves fired as his already unnaturally misplaced bone was unnaturally wrenched through flesh and muscle back inside his leg. It felt like the doctors were reaching into his leg with knives and stabbing him repeatedly. Bax couldn’t help himself—he screamed. And the pain felt like it would never end.

Bax saw stars before his eyes. Star, dots, whatever they were. Everything before his field of vision went blurry and hazy as pain took over his mind. His eyes were bugging out and he was hallucinating. Everything was swinging, swaying, nothing could stop.

Make it stop.

Stop!

And the world went dark…

[Shadow Phoenix]

“All of Nibelheim has gathered here,”
“For one last stand.”

Black Spider trudged before the three priests whose mercy he now found himself at, still trying to plot his escape. He was not ready to merely abandon Bax to these priests with their dark methods and craven plans. Nor was he prepared to lose to the likes of these. He had to meet up with Valtiel—Necrostiana—Apocalypse. Deep beneath this web of intrigue that had wound itself up on Earth was Black Spider’s purpose. And neither he nor Bax could die here.

Black Spider hated to say that he wanted to use Bax, but Bax certainly fit into his plans. Black Spider probably couldn’t attack apocalypse head-on. There were too many factors involved. First off, Apocalypse was stuck inside a double vessel, probably still slumbering. Then there was this whole mess with the Element of Prosperity and the inner-war between the Senate and the Order. Getting to Valtiel and confronting his—“creator”—would be enough of a pain in the ass.

First things first, though.

“Yeah, they’re all down there, cleaning up the rest of you scum while they take care of their own,” Black Spider spat after a moment. He quickly received a heavy fist to the stomach from Daito.
“Shut up,” he said. “You don’t need to talk now.”
Daito turned to Kerlin and Marco and his eyes flashed with a crafty white glint.
“I will lead in this time. Gamma. Don’t get in the way, assassin.”

Black Spider pitched forward onto his knees, then swung back up and walked behind Daito as Kerlin slowly swung his scythe through the air behind him as an ever-constant reminder that he was a moment away from his death if he did anything unsatisfactory.

And then as he watched the blade slicing through the air behind him, the wheels in the assassin’s head began to turn. As they reached the makeshift infirmary, his idea was solid. Now he just had to find the right moment and hope that Nibelheim could play it smart with these three priests until then.

* * *

Bax’s eyes shot open at the sound of chaos.

“The Order?! Since when are they here?”
“They’ve breached the perimeter!”
“We’re taking heavy damage! Where are our specialists?”

Bax sat up and saw three cloaked priests with their hoods down approaching them—with Black Spider in tow, hanging his head. A man with longish black hair walked at the head of the group with his hands firmly extended before him. Whenever a blaster shot neared them, the sphere directly around the slowly approaching group shifted for a moment and the blaster shot bounced back viciously and usually took out the attacker. A man with red, spiked hair balanced a scythe on his shoulder and merely looked around with a light smile. A silver-haired, older man plodded along, his face stoic as he merely observed while his counterpart maintained a shield around them.

No one could touch them. Any projectiles were flung back or exploded in the sphere that was invisibly erected around them. It was sick.

And they were headed straight for Bax.

What had happened to Black Spider? Had they actually managed to subdue the shape shifter? Was that even possible?

Three Nibelheim soldiers suddenly crowded before Bax. He recognized them as part of the recon group that had originally brought him in a few days before.
“Don’t worry—we won’t let them get to you.”

Bax wished he could trust that claim, but could only watch helplessly as they unloaded their weapons pointlessly at the shield and saw their shots deflected back at them. One went down where he stood, crumpling the ground and clutching his stomach. Another surged forward, only to be caught in the shield and incinerated immediately. The final soldier dodged out of the way of all of the projectiles and ran to the side to try his luck from a different angle. The more he dodged, the more aggravated the one with red hair looked. Eventually, he raised his scythe towards the soldier and unleashed a full storm of red energy towards the soldier. He writhed in pain for a few moments before falling miserably to the ground.

They weren’t messing around…

Damn it, Bax was hoping perhaps that they had given up on him for now.

“So, have we actually found you, Bax? Or are you a shape shifter as well?”
Bax gritted his teeth and tried to move his leg. More pain accompanied this movement, shooting up through him. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, almost verging on drawing blood.
“It’s me. What do you want?”

The red-haired one made a movement with his scythe and Black Spider came flying forward, crashing on the ground before Bax, and bowing on his knees.
“I am sorry that I could not hold them off long enough, Bax.”
Bax shook his head and sighed. He lay helpless and his best help seemed likewise incapacitated.

Black Spider suddenly lifted his head and looked Bax straight in the eye with a wild and ferocious gaze. Bax felt his mind open up and he heard the shape shifter’s voice echoing inside the walls of his head.
“Bax, despite the appearances of my defeat, I have a plan. When I signal you, draw your sword and put it in my right hand.”
Bax’s eyes narrowed and he nodded. He would have to trust him—what other choice did he have, with the infirmary practically under siege?

“However, priests of the Order,” Black Spider began, “I am not done with my efforts.”
The assassin looked hard at Bax and snapped his fingers. In a flash, Bax drew the Diroxauralis, spinning it around and thrusting the hilt into Black Spider’s right hand. The shape shifter lifted up and turned to face the priests. He jabbed his left hand out and clenched his fist. Kerlin’s eyes widened and he raised his scythe to try and stop Black Spider from doing something rash. The assassin was already in motion, though, and nothing could stop him.

In a single, fluid motion, Black Spider sliced the blade cleanly through his left wrist, severing his hand from the rest of his arm. Kerlin cursed and stepped back, swinging his scythe around and trying to make the assassin move according to his rule. The assassin had severed the tie between them, however. The slice on the cheek had no bearing on him now.

Black Spider dropped the sword to the ground and grabbed his bloody wrist with his right hand. He grimaced and began to shake. Slowly, but surely, the skin around the stump began to bubble and ripple as a new hand began to inexplicably sprout from Black Spider’s wrist. It took nearly a minute, but none of the Priests bothered to move towards him—they stared aghast in amazement. That kind of spontaneous regeneration was impressive. Bax, too, was rather amazed.

Finally, the shape shifter spoke. “I can change my shape. Why can’t I alter my own shape somewhat once I have lost a part of myself. Kerlin, you have been doing this for, what 15, maybe 20 years at the max? Come try me again in 100 years!”
Black Spider flexed his left hand and sped towards Diato, delivering a heft left hook to Daito’s stomach. As Daito went down, so did his shield, sending out a visible ripple.

Black Spider didn’t stop there, loosing his left hand from Daito and going right on towards Kerlin. He dropped down to duck beneath a defensive swing from the scythe and slammed his right fist into Kerlin’s gut. Kerlin grunted and pitched to his knees, dropping his scythe.

Black Spider spun and faced Marco.
“Your turn, old-timer.”

Black Spider flexed both of his hands and black and purple energy exploded from his palms and encircled his lower arms. He sped towards Marco and the silvered man stood there as if nothing was happening. Black Spider raised his fist and aimed for Marco. This would be a quick knockout, too.

Right before Black Spider’s fist connected, Marco’s own hand flashed up and grabbed onto the approaching fist, stopping Black Spider in his own tracks. Marco’s entire outer layer of skin suddenly morphed into steel plating, extending all around him. Black Spider cursed and tried to wrench his hand away, but Marco was holding him stiffly in place. He drew his unoccupied fist back and savagely pummeled Black Spider into the ground. After a dozen or more gut-wrenching, bone-breaking blows, he stopped moving.

Bax wished he could move. The two downed priests got up slowly and looked at Marco.
“You had to get your hands dirty, huh, Marco?”
Marco slowly returned to normal. “He grossly underestimated me.”

All three turned to Bax.
“Now, Bax. Here is the lesson to learn from your friend. Come with us or we will kill you.”

Bax clenched the ground with his palm, grinding his fingers through the sand next to his cot. What right did they have to do all of this? He had had enough of these cocky bastards. He probably couldn’t do much, but he had to do something.

Stall for time…

“Sorry, gentlemen,” Bax said, “but my leg seems to be broken. I can’t really go anywhere right now.”

He glared at them as Kerlin strode forward and grabbed Bax around the neck, wrenching him high into the air and barely lending him enough room to gasp for shallow breath.
“Then I’ll make you move.”

Bax had stopped paying attention, though. He closed his eyes and he stifled the grin that threatened to spread across his face. He had bigger fish to fry than these, and he knew just how to deal with them.

“Keldira…help me out here.”
He heard no words in response—only felt a rush of emotion and strength that could only come from the great phoenix whom Bax had befriended. Suddenly, even though his body was weary with pain and fatigue, he felt a new surge of energy that gave him the capacity to deal with these priests.
“You listening to me?” Kerlin screamed at Bax.
Bax laughed lightly and felt Kerlin’s hand grip his neck even tighter. He was practically choking now, but could still gurgle that small laugh.
“Huh?!” Kerlin demanded, shaking Bax.

Bax shook his head. “No.” He wound his good foot back and drove it straight up into Kerlin’s groin. He immediately felt Kerlin’s grip on him loosen and he latched his right hand tightly onto Kerlin’s shoulder while winding his left hand back. His bullet wounds screamed at him, but he latched down onto Kerlin as he began reeling, smashing head hard into Kerlin’s nose, shattering it on impact. Kerlin howled as blood began pouring down his face. Bax took a deep breath and flames swirled around his left hand.

“Hey, Kerlin,” Bax said as he flicked his wrist and clenched his fist. “I’m not listening.”
Bax’s fist sprang open into a claw and he slammed his fingers hard into Kerlin’s stomach, spawning a fireball straight into his gut. Kerlin flew backwards, carried by the concussive explosion of fire, and crashed into the barricade wall, falling with a dull thud. Bax chuckled to himself—that guy looked like he had gone through quite a beating. Maybe he would learn to stay down this time.

Bax tried his best to tuck his bad leg out of the way of smashing the ground, landing dangerously on his left leg and balancing as best as he could. He narrowed his eyes at Daito and Marco and lightly touched his right leg to the ground. Pain instantly shot up through his leg and he bit his tongue as tears streamed from his eyes. He couldn’t put any weight on it, but he needed to stand his ground. But Ancients it hurt like hell!

Bax’s fiery hair raged. It raged even though it was small, flickering up and showing strength. The undying. Bax slowly extended his arms in a “come-and-get-me” stance, waving his fingers tauntingly at the two standing priests as flaming tendrils wrapped around his arms. Marco was scowling. Daito just looked pissed.

Bax closed his eyes briefly and whispered a word from his mind to the skies.

“Hurry…”

* * *

Gabriel had seen his comrades go down in flames too much. With the arrival of these three damned priests, even more had gone down who shouldn’t have. Their prisoner had fought back and fallen. Bax was making a stand, but Gabriel knew he couldn’t last long. Nibelheim appeared to be hearing its death knells. They were shrill and painful…

Gabriel leveled his rifle towards the two priests and looked for an opening. If he could somehow help stave this off, help Bax out a little bit, maybe he could delay death’s coming a little bit.

He looked at the red-haired priest who had been knocked into the wall by Bax’s quick beat down. He wasn’t stirring. Even with a broken leg, Bax had been able to manage to level one of the priests. Gabriel had seen this man—this alien—fight several times over the past couple days and had been amazed at his ferocity. He had been terrified earlier—petrified—but he saw Bax standing up for Nibelheim and could only support him, despite his fears.

Nibelheim couldn’t fall today. They had come through too much to let that happen. Gabriel squinted his eyes and gazed through the scope.

His finger twitched around the trigger and he aimed at the black-haired priest.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The hair on the back of Gabriel’s neck stood on end and he shivered, afraid to glance over at the source of the question. He barely turned his head and saw the fallen priest staring at him with eyes of malice. Gabriel froze and began shaking lightly. What should he do? If the priest could move—if he could move, he was going to kill Gabriel. No, please…

Just do it.

Gabriel turned his head back quickly, straightened the gun, and aimed at his target. Without another moment of hesitation, he pulled the trigger and felt his gun recoil violently, slamming into his shoulder with a painful crunch. He nearly dropped the gun, but leveled it again and fired again at his target without checking to see what had happened to him in the first place.

Then cold overtook Gabriel as a blade shattered through his spine and ripped through his chest. His arm fell limply to his side, and he barely clutched the gun. He grimaced and groaned as blood gurgled up through his mouth. The blade lifted him up off the ground and he felt the sharp blade cutting away at him. He struggled to open his eyes and look at what had happened.

The priest was down on the ground, clutching his shoulder. There was another bloody stain on his back that he couldn’t reach. Gabriel had hit him.

He smiled through the pain and looked sorrowfully at Bax. “There you go…king…”

Kerlin huffed as he held the pitiful Nibelheim soldier up on his scythe. “Miserable bastard,” he murmured. “Look what you did.”
Kerlin wrenched the scythe out of the man and let him drop to the ground. He kicked him a few times, cursing him for what he did to Daito, and then finally let him just lie there. He would probably die soon anyway.

Gabriel lay on the ground, beaten and broken. He looked up into the sky for what seemed like would be the last time ever. The orange and fiery sun was about to disappear behind the buildings, dip below the horizon and go hide for the night. On the opposite side of the sky, the moon was beginning to peek up, still covered by the coronal halos in the sky and the clouds of smoke and death that were just finally dissipating. Even though the sky spoke of chaos—even if it was the end for Gabriel—it wasn’t the end for Nibelheim. It couldn’t be.

And then fire streaked across the sky, arching between the sun and the moon. Were Gabriel’s eyes playing tricks on him? It looked like a massive, fiery bird. Could that be…Bax’s doing?

As darkness closed in around Gabriel and cold overtook him, he smiled. The phoenix descended upon Nibelheim in a rush of gold flames. It was beautiful…

[Shadow Phoenix]

The tension was shattered by two bullets. Bax was talking the talk and keeping Marco and Daito at bay with words until Daito pitched to the ground with a large hole in his back and another pierce through his shoulder. All the while, Bax felt Keldira getting closer and closer.

And then she was there. The large phoenix landed between Bax and Marco and Bax collapsed from exhaustion.

Marco took a step back from the phoenix and glared straight ahead. “So you are the other half. Necrostian’s twin.”
Keldira screeched and raised her wings, casting spirals of fire up into the air.
“Bax is mine, filth of the Order. Stand down, leave Nibelheim, and I will not kill you.”
Marco shook his head and laughed. “Though Daito and Kerlin are injured, all three of us are still more than capable of fighting. Your threats do not scare me.”
Keldira cawed and took an intimidating step towards Marco. Marco’s center of balance shifted slightly backwards, though he did not intend it to.
“Surely you know of the reports of what my sister is capable of, with or without a host. Do you not think I can tear you apart?”
Marco cleared his throat, flexed his arms, and grunted as the metal plating extended once again around his entire body.
“Come at me, phoenix! I cannot go back to the High Priest without this alien in my possession.”
“Then I shall send you back to him as ash.”

Marco clapped his hands together, resulting in a loud clang, and the sky above began crackling with electricity. Clouds twisted and turned, brimming with rain and churning with new wind. A giant bolt of lightning surged forth directly towards Keldira. The phoenix screeched again, spreading her wings magnificently. The bolt hit the air around her and snapped, screaming to get at the bird, but being bounced back by the flames to shatter the peace everywhere around Keldira. Keldira launched herself forward, almost without any buildup of momentum, and caught Marco in her claw, slamming him into the ground. She threw her head back and inhaled deeply, delivering a great stream of fire into the trapped priest from deep within her ancient belly.

From across the yard, Kerlin stumbled weakly towards the center of the madness, dragging his scythe behind him and cursing with each step. They had no other choice but to flee. They could not beat a phoenix, just the three of them. That was the stuff that required dozens of high order priests. It was frivolous to keep trying, especially when they were in as dire straits as they were right then.

Kerlin was surprised at the rationality of his own thoughts. And yet there was something wrong with them, too. If they failed here and did not take Bax back to the Order, they would surely be killed. They had to finish before going back—however long that took. So they would be renegades, then…

Kerlin didn’t feel like getting burned again. He had to convince Marco and Daito to give up so that they could leave. Let these fools win the battle for today. The victory would soon be the Order’s.

Suddenly, Keldira stumbled backwards, pushing back a few feet before settling on her feet and lowering her wings. She stared forward and watched as Marco climbed out of his hole—metal dripping from every part of his body, mixed with blood and ash. He was breathing heavily—it was clear that he had been beaten.
“I can’t lose…to the likes of you.”
“Marco!” Kerlin called out. “Let us retreat for now. Save ourselves, regroup. Allow Nibelheim and Bax to live for another day. We have lost.”
Daito, still on the ground, coughed and raised his voice. “Kerlin is correct, Marco. We should take our leave—now.”

He raised a hand which began to glow with a deep purple and pulsate with a bright white light. All three of their bodies began to dematerialize. No one else in the yard moved as they disappeared from view. Keldira let them go, her eyes filled with vengeance. After a moment, she slowly turned and faced Black Spider and Bax, lying on the ground. Both were unconscious. Keldira also felt Lynx somewhere in this city, probably on his way here.
“What a mess…” Keldira spoke to Bax’s mind. She met with agreement, then an emotional plea for help. She stooped down and scooped up both the king and the assassin onto her back. She could try to find Lynx, but that would probably be frivolous.

Bax stirred on her back and shook his head. “My things. I need them.”
They were right next to where his cot had been (before it had been blown away in all the commotion). Bax retrieved them gingerly and clutched tightly to Keldira.

It was time to get out of this town. Nibelheim had enough of its own problems to deal with. Bax just needed to get out of here…and fast.
“To Midgar, Keldira…thank you…” he breathed, falling unconscious again as Keldira lifted up into the air and began flying off towards Bax’s home here on Earth.

OoC: A disclaimer—my apologies for a couple things. 1) I dragged this on for a long time. At some points, I figured Lynx and Bax would have more interaction, but it never happened. Then I got this big idea that I wanted to see played out, and it took a lot longer than I thought it would. By the time I got past a certain point, I had kind of gotten sick of everything and just wanted to move on—but I’m not one to drop plot lines. Which brings me to my next thing. 2) I feel like the last couple of parts have been inadequate, at least to my standards. So I apologize for all of the larger-than-life-for-seemingly-no-reason combat moves, the constant back-and-forth fighting, rapid turn-arounds, character-flopping, and anything else which could be perceived as weak. Now that I’m done here, I hope to move on and get on to new stuff. It has been a lot of fun delving into my darker side, but it’s almost made me sick of dealing with Bax. I need a new situation…

Goodbye, Nibelheim…

[ForeverZeroUltima]

How painful

Lynx opened his eyes and groaned. It came out as either a growl or a whine. Surprised by his own noise, he quickly sat up -- or, tried to. His head, neck, and torso only came up 45 degrees off the horizontal before feeling a great strain on his body. He let go and promptly plopped back down.

What in hell...? Determined, he rolled over -- which was equally hard to do -- onto the front of his body, and used his hands -- hands? -- as leverage. As he pushed himself up, he realized that his middle three fingers on both hands had shortened while his thumbs and pinky fingers had grown to match the others. Nonetheless, his hands were rather large now. Pushing himself up become a harder action to perform, because he couldn't flex his fingers like he used to. Instead, they were compacted close together, almost as if they were one unit. He rose himself to his knees, and...

Knees? He wasn't sure if they were there anymore. His legs felt wobbly as he rose himself up. Confused, he turned his head around to see what the problem was.

The first thing he noticed was that he was naked. The second was that his legs had, although shortened, grown more muscular and powerful. Behind his legs, his tail extended; it was rather bushy and brown, with a few black furs tipping off the end. He was rather pleased to see it. He turned his attention back to his naked body, and realized that it was completely covered with fine, detailed layers of brown and white fur. The only thing left was the belt with equipment he had crafted before. And the bag...the bag of spells...it was not there. Bewildered, he looked all around him to see that his dark blue layers of clothing -- of which he was rather proud of -- lay in shreds all over the floor. But no spells.

What had happened? He remembered his conversation with the woman in his dream. Not particularly surprised, he leaned his head down and touched his face with his hand, to find that his nose had extended a bit, and his mouth was larger and wider. His ears were longer too, with little tufts of fur at the tips.

What...am I? Testing his body, he took one leap off the ground. He had never felt such power in his arms and legs before! His body flew into the air and he felt himself sailing for a brief moment before coming back in contact with the ground. His hands -- or perhaps he should refer to them as paws now -- pressed against the ground with no shock at all before the rest of his body came to meet them.

Lynx now turned his attention to where he was. He suddenly felt trapped, having grown considerably in size in such a small room. He looked at the door, but he doubted that he would be able to open it with his paws. He paused to think, and of course, noted that his body mass must've doubled, no, tripled. If that was the case, then he should be able to get out easily.

He took a running leap, and the force of his body was more than enough to break the door down. He got off the door and warily looked around. Strange; no one was there.

Suddenly, Lynx remembered that he needed his bag of spells if he ever hoped to survive the rest of the journey, let alone change himself back. Well, that complicated things quite a bit.

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Back on the road, Lynx took one last look at the place he hoped he would never have to go to again. He found it odd how no one was around to stop him. As well, he was able to find his spells again and he had tied it back to his belt (rather clumsily, and it took a while to do). Where was Bax?

He took a moment to sniff the air (he noticed that he had been doing a lot recently). He used his newfound sense of smell to locate his spells; now he felt a scent of...flame in the air? He took another moment to think (which he had also been doing recently, thanks to the accidental intelligence spell). Flame in the air...a phoenix? Did Bax make it out already? It certainly seemed so...

He began to pick up speed; he was rather thankful that his new form gave him more body strength. He hoped that he would change back sometime soon, but he didn't know how soon that would be.

His attention turned to the spells. He had already run into the compass and the beast. That left the mask, eye, doll, skull, and sword. He had already invoked the compass and the beast, but they turned out to be the eye and the mask. The spells left were the shield, skull, mask, doll, and eye, with the potential effects of the shield, skull, compass, doll, and beast. He began to think about what combinations of spells against spells he might be forced to use, and what effects it could have.

He pondered over these thoughts again as he ran.