Phantasy Star: DF_DESTINY

[BIG OLAF]

Author's Note(s):

- Okay, so. Just letting everyone know that this is the first time in over a year I've actually sat and written something seriously. I've had a bit of a confidence problem for a long time in regards to this kind of thing. So, it's probably going to be a bit rough around the edges, and a bit rusty and creaky in places. It takes a long time to dust off the ol' wordsmith skills and whatnot.

- The title is a work in progress, but I like the current one I have quite a bit. I may keep it as-is. We'll see. I'm bad at making names for my writings.

- Since the PSO2 lore and such isn't 100% known at the time, I'll be taking my own, personal canonical liberties with some things. Don't worry, I'm pretty good at keeping things sensible.

- Now, also, I'm extremely nervous about posting anything I write anywhere for anyone to read. I'm absolutely terrified right now. This isn't something I do lightly, but I do hope I learn to enjoy sharing this stuff as much as someone out there (hopefully) enjoys reading it. Here's chapter one.

__________________________________________


ARISE.

The morning light cracked through the glass in the bay window, revealing the shapes of a number of greasy handprints and ashy streaks against the pane. A faint haze of cigarette smoke lofted in the room behind the glass, it’s dancing and twirling more noticeable as the light through the window bared itself upon it. The windowsill showed a much similar treatment, as old cigarette butts lay bent and forgotten across the length of the metallic jetty, littered around black, chalky burn-markings where they had been snuffed out.

The office below the smoky haze looked relatively plain. Two simple metal chairs sat in front of the slightly less simple, but much heavier, metal desk. Three filing cabinets sat further away from the window, some drawers cracked open, as if slammed in a violent manner in which they had slightly slid back out.

On the monotone, box-like desk, sat numerous papers of, to the layperson, nigh-ineligible legal jargon; ordering forms, discharge papers, and recruitment sheets. A black pen lay across them in a diagonal angle, from being tossed in an oddly picante mixture of carelessness and tiredness. A simple, white mug sat but a few inches from the scatterings of papers, the bright, golden symbol of the Arks glistening in its gold-flake print against the equally golden rays of the new day.

The contents of the mug were quite cool, the result of its owner neglecting the contents in favor of his nose being buried in the morning headlines. He leaned back in the reclining chair opposite the two simpler seats on the other side of the desk, his Arks-issued, white alloy boots propped up on the end of his flat workspace, smoke from his half-finished cigarette lazily drifting upwards from behind the newspaper, spinning like an ethereal ballerina.

The front door of the small office slid open with its usual hissing noise, ending with the telltale clink. The man at his desk didn’t raise his head for a glance. The click-clacking of his female CAST assistant’s feet on the hard floor, let alone the time of day, alerted him to who it was without as much as an instinctual guess.

“Good morning, Commander,” she spoke in her soft, feminine voice; however slightly garbled it was due to the metallic buzzing in her speech that all CASTs possessed. “Did you sleep well last night?”

The Commander leaned the top half of the paper forward, but didn’t meet his assistant’s eyes, and instead looked down at his mug of now-cold coffee, the Arks symbol facing slightly away from the pair in the room.

“No pleasantries today, Andy.” He grumbled, the near-finished cigarette butt hanging from the corner of his lips. “Had the nightmare again. Worse this time, though. Just get to work, please.”

“Very well, Commander.” Andy answered, a more business-like tone in her voice.

The Commander took brief notice of the vivid, green pupils of his assistant’s eyes spinning and resetting themselves automatically to accommodate the new lighting of the room, as the sun had just began to grow slightly higher into the sky, before she stepped through the side door that led into her own office. The door slid shut, and The Commander could hear her heavy metal boots clanking, muffled, through the closed gateway.

He let out a long, noisy stream of air from his nose, his way of sighing without making the customary mouth groan, whilst opening the top drawer of his desk to pull out his office phone. The Commander always left it turned off and stored away until he had finished his morning coffee and cigarette. Being able to get out of the morning grogginess without your superiors talking your ear off about whatever menial task they deem so damned important is a tiny luxury that’s easy to afford.

No sooner had he reflected on that small, victorious thought after wirelessly connecting the phone to the Arks communications system, did the device begin to ring. It startled The Commander, making him fidget and slide several of his order forms right off of his desk with his foot.

Panting lightly, he quickly picked up the earpiece unit, slid it firmly into place, and pressed the ‘accept call’ button on the base.

“Hey, Derek! How are you this morning? Ha, that was one of them, uh, ‘restorical’ questions, brother! Hey, listen. Just got off the phone with the Colonel. Uh, well, one o' the Colonel's sexy lil' secretaries. But, uh, she says he’s looking for someone to go with him to some kind of party tonight. Said he’s thinking ‘bout taking you.”

Commander Derek shook his head back and forth hastily. “Whoa, hey! Slow down. You talk to fast, Jed. The Colonel wants me to go to some kind of fancy-ass shindig? What for?”

Jed chortled and continued. “Well, it ain’t like a personal invitation, brother. He’s just looking for someone to, uh, ‘protect’ him. Apparently there’s a rumor about that domestic terrorist cell…uh…what’re they called again?”

“Ugh. Uhm, I think it was like the ‘Red Halo’ or something goofy like that.” Derek responded in his deep, growling voice. “I don’t know where these stupid kids come up with this shit, or where the fuck their parents are while they’re waving guns around and threatening to blow up government facilities…

“…Uh, anyway, the Colonel wants to use me as his bodyguard, more or less? Here I was, thinking he hated me. Huh, how wrong can a guy be?”

“Well, maybe he’s using you because he knows that the Red Whatchamacallits really are gonna make an attempt on his life,” Jed coughed, raspy from the cigar he most likely was chewing on. “Maybe he’s hoping you’ll die or something! Never know!”

“Gee, that’s a wonderful thought. Thank you so much, my friend.” Derek groaned into the headset, becoming visibly annoyed with his just-a-touch-too-blunt conversation partner. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Got some forms to fill out this morning, or else the Admiral is going to have an aneurysm. See ya.”

Derek ended the call before Jed could get any sort of farewell out of his mouth. Tossing the headset down on the desk next to his coffee mug, he placed his hand on top of the stack of papers and pulled some towards him, snatching up his pen once it was within reaching distance of his other hand. He let another long, airy sigh from his nostrils and blinked hard, scratching at his frosty-white beard.

Derek was no old man. He had no wrinkles on his face, aside from stress-lines on his forehead. Not too bad for a guy who was in his mid-30’s. He’d always had white hair, since the day he was born. It was most peculiar, according to what his mother had said. The doctors that delivered him thought him to be an albino at first, with his usually pale skin and odd, rustic red eye color. Once he grew a bit, and his hair began to emerge from his head, the icy, colorless locks only reinforced the albino theory.

But, it was around that time that his eyes began to change from a dull, burnt-out red, to a vivid, almost iridescent violet shade, the irises glimmering like dark stars in any direct lighting. He was truly a mystery, not just physically, but mentally as well. Always at the top of his class through schooling, even military training. However, his innate intelligence was offset by the chronic night terrors he had suffered throughout his whole life, almost all of them being very similar to each other, more and more with each passing year. Those dreams had, over time, begun to take a heavy toll on not only his performance in the field, but also his mental state, which led to him being ‘grounded’ in his current position: an office monkey.

He finished the order requisition form he had begun moments ago, before getting lost in thought, and slumped his shoulders down by his sides, letting the pen dangle between his fingers, the cap an inch or so from scraping the ground. Derek let out a slow shudder and shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Andy!” he yelled towards his assistant’s door, moving only his head, and keeping his arms hanging over the sides of his chair. “Can I talk to you for a moment, please?”

There was a faint thud, the sound of wheels rolling, and papers shuffled; the familiar clacking of the metal-on-metal, the whirring of the sliding door. Andy stepped forward towards Derek’s desk, ending with a small, humbled bow, her slicked, black hair falling forward a touch as she lifted her body back upright.

“Yes, Commander, what do you need?” Andy sounded, her irises spinning and manipulating to adjust to Derek’s closer distance.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be heading out early to, uh, go to a dinner party with the Colonel. So, take the night off after I leave. Lock up, do all that. Sound good?”

Andy blinked and nodded, dipping her legs respectfully. “Yes, sir. I understand. Thank you for the early day. Is there anything else you require of me whilst you have my attention?”

“Hm? Oh, no. No, that’s all.” Derek replied, his attention already shifted back to his morning paperwork as his metallic cohort returned to her office.

As if on cue to stop Derek from getting any work done, his phone began to beep not a moment after he began filling out his portion of a new Arks prospect’s recruitment forms. He lazily glanced at the number, and saw it was coming straight from the Colonel’s office.

“Damn, this must be a big deal. Usually he just has one of his dumb bimbo secretaries that he acts like he’s not sleeping with call for any appointment, official or personal. Hm, well, I guess this would be a bit of bo-GAH!“ Derek interrupted his outward monologue, realizing that the phone was still ringing. He snatched his headset and hung it halfway onto his ear, in case the call ended while adjusting it correctly, and slammed his fist on the ‘accept call’ button.

“Yes, hello sir…..yes, I was informed about half an hour ago.” Derek told the Colonel, leaning back in his reclining chair and shooting a glance at the clock above the door to Andy’s office. He rubbed his hands up and down his face to force himself to wake up and pay closer attention to the Colonel’s words. “Indeed, sir…..what time? Of course, sounds good, sir.

….a suit, sir? Oh, no problem, sir…..I’ll see you tonight, sir. Goodbye.”

Derek pressed the ‘call end’ button and groaned loudly. He wondered if he’d have a good time, even if nothing bad happened. Would the Colonel use it as an opportunity to berate him in a public place? Perhaps he wanted to give him a proper celebration for a surprise promotion. Derek chuckled at the latter idea. The Colonel had always hated him since he signed up for the Arks. Maybe it was his devilish good looks, or he was jealous of his above-average skill with all manner of blades and firearms. Derek was good with a weapon, but by no means the best, and certainly it was no skill set to be jealous over.

He had all day to think about what the deal was. It wasn’t important now. Derek began grumbling to himself as he took a brief moment to pull another cigarette out of his jacket and light it with his cheap, plastic lighter he got at the cornerstore before getting to his office that morning. He planted his feet on the edge of his desk and pushed back, sliding his chair against the wall. He looked down at the lighter in his hands, and began to fiddle with it as the cigarette initiated its slow burn.

“A fuckin’ suit. Really?”

[Blackheart521]

Hey man, read it and seems pretty interesting... you definitely know how to paint every detail with words, Sounds like Derek has some weird biological secret or something of the sort... at least that's how it seemed to me.

Hope you continue this man. ^^

[goldwing]

Dude wow. Im not going to lie im picky with my storys but yours hits the spot.

[BIG OLAF]

Thanks guys. I know my 'style' may be a a bit more wordy than some people may like, but I've always wanted to be thorough when I create these kinds of things. H.P Lovecraft is my favorite author, and that man could paint a picture with his words (though, the 'pictures' in question were more often than not horrifying given his usual subjects of literature).

I originally wasn't going to post anymore unless a bunch of people wanted me to. But, hey, even if there's two or three people that will read it, that's more than zero. Gotta start small! I'll throw the next part up within the next week, probably.

[NoiseHERO]

Niiiiccee, whenever I "write" it's usually not in the form of actual story telling but a script. And I rarely read fanfictions so this kind through me off.

You definitely capture a lot of details, and your character's personalities and the mood of everything is kinda Noir-like,really cool.

The only thing that throws me off is... and your strong point of details kind of contractdicts this for me... Is the setting, At least with what I've read so far, it feels like none of this HAS to be or was MEANT to be in the Phantasy Star setting. Even with Andy, I was only reminded of it the few times you mentioned Arkz. If anything it seems like you really want to, or DID just make it your own original story completely and I think you could easily get away with making your own setting instead of having this as a fan-fiction.

Though admittedly making a setting that doesn't previously exist can be annoying. And turning to the Arkz or Darkers or everything else this game world has to offer can make it easier to help the story sometimes. (For example the army/company/aliance would have to be something else other than Arkz if this wasn't in the PSO2 relm. Like a cyberpunk Law enforcement or Mafia Gang, which examples only come to mind because of the Noir vibe I'm getting.)

[Xaeris]

I'm glad you scrounged up the courage to post. I know it was difficult for you, so I'm going to be gentle, but this may still sting a bit. Please don't doubt that I mean well. I wasn't expecting to see a PSO2 story so soon, but there's nothing particularly wrong with that.

So, let's talk details. Details are good. Probably the number one criticism handed out to writers, after "show, don't tell" is "needs more detail." The thing I hardly ever hear given along with that advice, though, is what kind of details you should be giving the reader. It's important that the details you give the reader are actually serving some kind of purpose other than filling space. It's really easy to find yourself writing a pile of nothing where your character is choosing what color tie they're going to wear that day.

Well, I'm making it sound scary, but I think you did well in that respect. Looking at the opening, you tell us what kind of environment the character keeps around himself: cigarette smoke, grease stained windows and immediately give us an idea of what kind of person this is. I'm not sure if this was deliberate or a happy accident, so I mention this because, if you're going to persist with the level of detail you have here, you have the aforementioned trap to be wary of going forth.

Let's see, what else...dialogue is fine mostly. Could stand to use less saidisms (using verbs aside from "said" to denote speech). "Andy sounded" really stuck out to me. Change that to 'said,' you lose nothing and the reader doesn't have to stop and think for a second if they're supposed to be getting something from the term 'sounded.'

Good job, mostly. If I had any clue where to find it, I'd show you some of my early attempts at fiction and you could feel really good about yourself by comparison.

[BIG OLAF]

Thanks for the input. I know that detailing things to a large extent is a very fine line to walk, but I'm confident in making sure I don't go overboard. It's how my favorite authors write, so i try to learn from them. Hopefully, with more practice, I can be almost as good as they were/are. The setting helping to describe Derek's personality was no accident, I can assure you that.

As for using "said", I absolutely despise using that word more than once, maybe twice a chapter, unless I'm out of other viable options. I try my best to keep it varied, since just the thought of putting a 'said' tag after the majority of speaking makes me cringe. I find doing so makes an otherwise rich dialogue sound a bit stale, myself. Duly noted, however, and I'll keep what you said in mind.

[CupOfCoffee]

I like this, Olaf, and I'm cool with the high level of description. It may be a little overwritten in parts, but who says fan fiction of a game with a schlocky anime vibe needs to read like Hemingway? Your descriptive narrative forms a pleasant Gestalt and really does paint a vivid picture. While reading this I could imagine camera angles, shadows, and even smells that weren't implicitly mentioned, and that's important.

That said (ha, ha), using "said" a hundred times is generally accepted to be more tasteful than replacing "said" with a bunch of goofy synonyms, RE: Xaeris. An exotic dialogue tag here and there is alright, but "said" is the bread and butter for most 20th and 21st century literature. Why is this? I don't exactly know, but that's just the Way Things Are Done, for better or for worse.

I was hoping PSO2 stories would start popping up soon, and I'm glad that the first one I stumbled across was this readable. So keep it up!

[goldwing]

So when r u planning on continueing the story hmmmm???

[BIG OLAF]

-Oh, man. I totally forgot it was Sunday (technically Monday now, but whatever). I tell you, that PSO2 is making me lose track of minutes hours days. I seriously thought today was Friday when I woke up, and just realized that it had been Sunday all along. Sorry about that!

________________________________________________

ATTACK.

The inside of the limousine stunk like ash. Not the ash of cheap tobacco that was swept from the floors of the cigarette factories that Derek just so happened to enjoy lighting up. The high-class cigars that the Colonel, and those close to him, went through daily. Derek shifted uncomfortably in his suit and slacks, newly purchased by a swindler down in the shopping district. On short notice, one doesn’t have a lot of precious time to devote to fitting themselves with formal attire they would actually enjoy wearing.

Derek had purchased a plain, black blazer with matching black slacks, and a gaudy, purple tie that had an irking habit of bending slightly back, so as to make a small loop at its own lower end. The glossy, black shoes were a size or two too large for the Commander, causing his heels to slip out of them if he walked too briskly, as what had happened while briskly stepping towards the vehicle when the Colonel and his other guests had come to pick him up from the market. As it were, his outfit was hardly appealing for a soiree of this magnitude, but would have to suffice.

Derek slowly cocked his head towards the Colonel, who had been looking out the window, rather uneasily, at all the passing nightclubs since they had started their drive.

“Sir, everything all right?” Derek asked, scratching the corner of his left eye. “You seem distressed.”

The Colonel slid around awkwardly in his seat, much like Derek himself had done only moments before, and began chewing his cigar harder than usual. “It’s nothing boy, just a bit nervous; haven’t seen this evening’s gracious host in quite a while, heh. He doesn’t like when people don’t keep in touch.”

“So, who is this ‘gracious host’, sir? I don’t think you told me.”

“Ah, didn’t I? His name is Toji Alastare, and he’s one of the richest men in the entire ORACLE fleet. He’s a collector of ‘fine wares’, and by ‘fine wares’, I mean junk that he thinks has magic powers! Hahaha-“ the Colonel was cut off by a cigar-induced coughing fit, by inhaling a deep gulp of hot smoke.

Derek looked out the window again, and adjusted his tie, attempting to flatten out the bottom, which was a futile endeavor. The city was vibrant and alive, beautiful women and handsome men walking to and fro between clubs, restaurants, and music venues. The bright, neon lights gave the streets a glow reminiscent of a rave party, the brilliant and dazzling colors of all shades and hues reflecting off of glass, metal, and plastic to make an electronic wonderland. The technology present on the ORACLE fleet was truly awe-inspiring, even technology like shiny nightclub logos.

The Colonel sputtered once more and continued. “Got-damn, sorry about that, son. It’s just I find the very concept of magic to be absolutely ‘ree-dick-you-luss! ‘ Outside of Force power, which is technically based off of science anyway, I just can’t see any of that freaky, universe-shifting shit to be possible. Oh, but Alastare, he’s big on it. His whole house, which is bigger than anything you’ve ever seen, save for the Arena in the downtown area, is dressed from rafters to floorboards in all kinds of weird, ‘magic’ items he’s found from one of his private expeditions down to the planet surfaces.”

His superior officer’s rambling beginning to get to him, Derek halted his train of thought to think about the Arena. One of the biggest constructs on the entire ship, Arena was a massive orb, with a angular ‘cut’ designs on its front, sitting atop a metal ‘base’ of sorts, where all manners of sporting events, concerts, plays, and other recreational activities were undertaken. It was a grand sight to behold, even from a distance. Sadly, they weren’t in that area of the city. It was truly a marvel at night, when the entire globe would light up, making it seem as if it was a giant, spherical projection.

“…and according to him, he’s found quite a ‘remarkable new toy’ recently, whatever that means.” The Colonel continued to drone. “Anyway, enough about all that garbage. Derek, there’s some things we’ve got to go over.”

Derek blinked and turned towards his associate for the evening. “There is, sir?”

“Correct, sonny. Alastare, being a fancy-pants rich boy, he’s, uh, got some rules.”

“Oh, great. One of those guys, sir?”

“Betchur ass. He don’t like being looked at in the eyes. He don’t like shaking hands. He only likes when people speak when spoken to, especially if you’re a stranger…like you. Now, I know how asinine all that is, trust me. But, Alastare privately owns quite a chunk of the city, including all of those clubs we passed on the way just a few minutes ago. Hell, he’s the one that funded the Stadium being built. So, just be sure to show some got-damn respect, even if the man is a self-important prude.”

The Commander didn’t know how to take that bit of information. This Alastare fellow seems like a royal prick, but…he owned the entire downtown district? He privately funded the Arena itself being built?! The man had some serious meseta if that was the case. Seemed there was something to that ‘useless magic junk’, as the Colonel had so eloquently put it, whether it was legal profit, or…something more.

The thought was interrupted as the limousine pulled to a smooth stop at the step of a massive marvel of technology, that just so happened to be a house. The whole building was a super-polished, cream-colored glossy metal. Great pillars twisted down from an overhang in front of the house, resembling water spouts frozen in time. The windows looked as if they were made out of liquid, seeming to pulse and move with each new blink of the eye, and a golden trim that would have otherwise been blinding if it weren’t nighttime, graced the edges of the windows, pillars, and front door.

The door itself, which seemed like it was half a mile up the front steps in the yard where Derek and the Colonel now stood, looked as if it had been forcibly broken off of a cathedral of some sort, and perfectly stuck into the front of the house like a puzzle piece.

As the two men began to walk forward, the steps began to move. They were a giant escalator, seemingly capable of moving at least 50 people on each ‘level’ of step at any time, given their length and width. Derek’s eyes bulged as he looked at the shimmering, almost glass-like stair under him move upward without so much as even a hint of noise or actual motion. At the end of the short journey up to the door, the stairs halted movement as swift and silently as it had begun. The Colonel cleared his throat, unfazed by the uncommon occurrence that had just taken place, and rapped on the door. The entryway to the home being so large and grandiose, that the Commander was unsure that his superior’s knocking had even been heard.

Derek took that moment to turn around and inspect the yard from an elevated point-of-view. Alastare’s front garden looked like something out of a dream. Below the steps, the circular road that looped back out to the street that he and the Colonel had come in from. In the middle of the loop of street, sat a lush patch of grass with a gargantuan fountain, three, four, five water geysers spouting off in sequence, the lights from the city in the distance passing through the liquid to create an effect like melting ice-pops that children often ate on hot days.

Beyond that, more lush grass plain stretched out alongside the road back to the main highway for at least one-fourth of a mile. Patches of wild, exotic flowers, no doubt from the forests of Naberius, littered the grass. Alastare certainly had an eye for style and pizazz, but with his kind of money, Derek figured that anyone would go the extra mile. No need to be shy when your funds are, most likely, virtually limitless.

His visual foray around the front yard was interrupted by the opening of the massive front door, which made no sounds as it slid into the wall and latched itself with a clinking noise, not unlike that of Derek’s office door, but on a scale twice as large.

Two rather large men, dressed in red suits, wordlessly escorted Derek and the Colonel towards another door, at the end of the long, white-marble hall they found themselves in, strange trinkets and artifacts strewn on the walls and in standing display cases. Derek raised an eyebrow as he noticed the back of the Colonel’s neck. The entire atmosphere began to rapidly change the closer the four men got to the door. Something certainly didn’t feel right.

“So, sounds like some…party, huh?” Derek shyly asked one of the mountainous mooks. As they proceeded through the second door into the main lobby of the mansion. “I figured there would be music or some-“

Interrupted by the new scene before him, Derek’s speech involuntarily halted itself. In front of him and the Colonel, stood at least fifteen men and women, all adorned in smooth, red leather jumpsuits, matched with a sort of scanner-type of eyewear. In the middle of each suit was a darker red ring-shape, etched white a whitish-silver accentuation, like a logo. Of course, the most interesting part of the group’s regalia was the photon rifles they all had pointed at Derek’s own head.

“You, on the ground!” one of the women shrieked at Derek. He hastily complied, not being one to try and fight impossible odds such as this. “…and you, old man! Come forward.

"Master Alastare, your guests are here!”

A faint sound of steps could be heard coming down the marble staircase, a gentle sliding of a hand accompanying it via the golden railings attached to the right side of the case. The gaunt man rounded the final curve in the stairs and came into view. He was tall, slender, and gaunt. Pale skin, to the point of almost gray, like a corpse. His eyes were a dull, frozen blue, and his hair white as a fresh layer of snow from Naberius’ mountain ranges.

“I see you finally made it, my friend. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show. But, ah, that would have been unwise, and I know you to be smarter than that, yes?” Alastare questioned the Colonel, reaching his hands out from the long, silken sleeves of his robe and brushing his hair behind his long, pointed ears before bringing them back to his center, folding his fingers together. “I trust you brought the…item I asked for?”

The Colonel sniffed and dug around in his pockets for a minute or so, until finally grunting with a shaky satisfaction and pulled out his hand. Alastare motioned for one of his men to approach the Colonel, and held out his hand. Derek’s superior opened hand, his arm visibly shaking. He had what appeared to be two mid-sized, triangular white earrings, complete with a red stripe. A smaller, teal-colored triangle accompanied the white objects on the hook.

“What in the hell is going on here?!” Derek burst out, quickly standing up. Alastare’s firing squad immediately turned all weapons to him again. Unfazed by that, Derek continued. “Was this some kind of setup? You son of a bitch, I knew this was going to be some kind of setup!”

“Please, spare your commanding officer the grief. He had no choice in the manner. This was all my doing, you see.” Alastare rasped, an air of self-importance in his voice. “I needed what your Colonel had, but I also needed...you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Needed me? Explain!”

“”As much as I would relish laying the entire plan out for you, Mr. Fultz, I’m afraid I just do not have the time to do so at present. Even though I’m still…lacking an item, my patience has worn thin. I want my prize immediately. We must get started right away.”

Derek spat at the Alastare’s mention of his surname, Fultz. He wasn’t overly-fond of it, and never had been. Anyone who knew Derek always asked why, as Fultz wasn’t a particularly insulting or mock-worthy name. Derek could never answer; he wasn’t sure, himself.

With a motion from Alastare, two of his armed posse members started towards Derek. What could be done? Was there a feasible way out of this? He figured whatever this ‘plan’ that the lanky Newman man had in store for him wasn’t going to be much better than death. So, Derek counted in his head as the gunmen approached to take him.

One.

Without moving his neck, he shifted his sight to the left, at a marble pillar only a few feet away from him, holding the balcony above him. It was probably thick enough to withstand a hail of photon bullets for all of five seconds or so. Decidedly ample time.

Two.

He cocked his head a bit more to the left, eyeballing the gold-railed stairwell only ten feet or so from the pillar he had just examined. The stairs immediately took a turn into itself, and would make for a hard shot by anyone other than a master gunslinger.

Ah, shit. Two and a half…

Looking up a bit from the stairwell, Derek noticed another rather large double door, almost as big as the one that led into the house. It was at a bad angle from where the mobs of guns were standing, so it would be plausible to maybe, possibly, hopefully get in there. He turned his head back to the guards that were now upon him, ready to drag him away to whatever torture their assuredly insane master had concocted.

Derek clapped his hands over the left-side guard’s ears, disorienting him, and dragged him behind the pillar, pulling his rifle away from him in the process. The right-side guard gave chase, firing rounds into his companions back as Derek used him as a shield. After his clip had been spent, Derek pushed the man he was holding back onto his partner, and dashed for the stairwell, the other twelve or so red-clad henchman peppering the ground where he ran. Derek took a few potshots when he could as he ascended the stairs, hitting one or two in the arm, or possibly chest.

Rolling over the last step, Derek crawled prone on the carpet lining the balcony that led towards his final destination. The door in sight, he heard Alastare yell something indistinguishable, and then a myriad of shouts and marching feet. Acting quick, Derek stood halfway up, into a crouch, and dashed towards the door, the doors sliding open for him as he approached.

With no time to waste, he dragged two large stands full of exotic garbage in front of the doorway and busted out the door controls with the butt of the rifle he commandeered from his initial victim. The shouting and the bashing started only seconds later, the doors rattling fiercely with the force of a dozen legs attempting to kick it in, and only the weight of the standing cases seemed to be stopping it. Derek frantically began scanning the room, looking for a way out. He spied a window opposite him, and started towards it. Then, he noticed something on a smaller, more ornate glass stand in the middle of the otherwise empty space.

A shimmering, ruby band of some sort, with a chrome center, and odd, black markings etched into the underside of the red gemstone that formed the circle.

Derek began to feel strange. The longer he stared at this object, the more inside-out he felt, like his very soul was attempting to rip itself from his mortal flesh. His skin felt like it was on fire; his mind felt like gelatin. His very essence of being felt like it was melting, like a popsicle left in front of a hairdryer. He grabbed his own wrist and pulled himself back, heaving onto the floor, making an impact that felt like he was a water balloon, bursting everywhere.

He slowly got to his knees, and began crawling to what looked like the window, his vision blurring as if he had just been hit in the side of the head with the broadside of a gardening tool. He began to hear noises: giggles, and whispers, and growling, and crying, and moaning. Derek found himself slipping on his own sweat, his wrists sliding out from beneath him, causing him to smash his face on the hard floor.

The noises grew louder. He could hear a young woman making sounds akin to what started as singing, but then began to grow more malicious. Her voice warped inside his head, until it sounds just like his own, but much darker. It hissed, groaned, gurgled, and roared at him. It snapped at him to get up, to run, to crawl to the window and fall out of it. His own inner thoughts, seemingly developing a ‘mind’ of their own, pushed and ushered Derek to trust in them, and to topple out a two-story drop.

Derek brought himself back to his knees, a rusty taste on his lips from the blood dribbling down his nose and into his open mouth. He was breathing hard, and the noises grew ever louder. Sickening wretches, pops, bubbling, and frothing in his mind, as if some sort of mutant creature was attempting birth in his ears.

Finally making it to the window, he used his very last bit of strength and punched out the glass, heaving himself over the windowsill, and allowing himself to freely tumble down the side of the mansion.

[Sagasu]

As you say, there are places where the text does take some chewing to get through.

But the flavor is there and the story is damned fine so far, so I hope you continue with it. : ]

[BIG OLAF]

As you say, there are places where the text does take some chewing to get through.

But the flavor is there and the story is damned fine so far, so I hope you continue with it. : ]

Thank you. Encouragement from people much more talented than lowly old me, whether in literary means or otherwise (Sagasu, Xaeris, CupOfCoffee, etc.) is what makes me want to continue, and gives me enough confidence to keep enjoying the process, too.

However, with PSO2 getting fully underway, it may be slightly longer until the next chapter is up, but I'll work on it bit-by-bit.

[Sagasu]

Thank you. Encouragement from people much more talented than lowly old me, whether in literary means or otherwise (Sagasu, Xaeris, CupOfCoffee, etc.) is what makes me want to continue, and gives me enough confidence to keep enjoying the process, too.

However, with PSO2 getting fully underway, it may be slightly longer until the next chapter is up, but I'll work on it bit-by-bit.

Pffff, no worries, I will be totally absorbed in the full release as well can wait. eheh.

Good luck! Slow and steady, mostly just avoid getting burned out on these kinds of projects too quickly and you'll end up going a lot further than you might expect!

[goldwing]

wow that was a nice treat to read. i gotta know what happens to him now...

[Bomber The Cosmonaut]

lowly old me
You gotta stop cutting yourself so short, B Loaf. Especially when your work is actually pretty damn good. Everything I've read so far is very descriptive, and immersive. And I love how all of your characters are fleshed out. Pat yourself on the back, chief. And keep on writing.

[BIG OLAF]

Don't worry, I didn't forget about this. It's as I said: PSO2 eats up all of the free time. All of it. I had been working on this off and on during game maintenance (getting ready for the "but there were so many, you should have been done in no time!" jokes here), but had gotten a bit lazy about it.

About this chapter, it was originally going to be a lot longer. But, I was feeling kind of uncertain about having a single, huge-ass chapter for people to read, so I decided to just cut this into two parts. No big deal. I'll have the second part up soon...ish? :-?

I apologize in regards to how long it took to get this up. I'm a bum sometimes.

__________________________________________


AWAKEN.

The wind whistled between the streets and alleys, a certain dark emptiness had seemed to swallow up the nightlife Derek had noticed on his way to his apparent new enemy’s home. Not a single sign of life surfaced from any corner, doorway, or window, whether at street-level or higher up on the larger buildings. Everything was blackened, but yet the roads were lit. Then, Derek noticed something that wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to him.

The telltale black mist that seemed to coat the air with a degree of malice, and fear. Derek was dreaming. The same dream he’d had since he was a child. The dark, broken city. The unholy smog that hung in the air like spider webs attached to nothing. The devilish presence that seemed to always be watching, yet unseen.

Derek felt his own eyes grow wider as he realized he was back, once again, in his nightmare; the mental prison that had kept him shackled and held down his whole life. He placed his hand on the building next to him. Something didn’t feel correct about it this time, he felt himself feeling. He was too aware of the dream. He didn’t have the feeling of watching himself from a top-down perspective as he usually did. He was himself, behind his own eyes. He took his hand off the wall and clenched his fists slowly.

“This…what is this? It’s like my dream is…real this time. It can’t be. Could it?”

He opened his hands as slowly as he’d closed them, turning his head upwards towards the giant dome that encompassed this particular ORACLE ship’s city districts. No stars, no sun. The only thing that greeted his gaze was an abyssal black blanket. Derek let out a long, loud breath from his nostrils. Noticing one’s breath in a dream wasn’t commonplace, either. At least not in Derek’s experiences. He stopped moving and stared at the darkness more intensely, not a sound stirring. The silence was, as they say, deafening.

But not for long.

The black sheet that was the sky, far above Derek’s head, began to crack, break, and shatter, the pieces of the dark fizzling to mist as they fell, a now literally deafening noise hissing through the cracks. Accompanying the quaking of the sky, a sound like a sort of ethereal roaring, as if a mighty beast was standing atop a rock, claiming its ownership of a new territory.

Derek dropped to his knees and clasped his ears, turning his head down towards the street for a moment. He opened and closed his eyes, squeezing his eyelids shut each time. The roaring and groaning continued, as did, from what he could tell just by hearing the muffled sounds through his hands, the shattering of the dark ‘glass’ dome that had been the sky.

Derek snapped his neck upwards, leaning back on his knees. He saw that the cracks in the blackness weren’t random; they were creating a shape, a pattern of some sort. He craned his head from side to side, trying to make sense of the figure. It resembled a large circle, with three smaller circles placed evenly around the edge of the main shape, and a fourth lesser circle inside the base of the bigger one. Then, he noticed the characters. A sort of language, a form of written dialect, from what he could tell.

The cracking stopped, as did the wretched, horrible howling. The shape had completed itself. Derek took his hands off his ears and slowly stood up, squinting at the massive figure in the sky. The large, center ring glowed with every color of the rainbow. Each of the three outer rings shined a different color from the others. One pulsed a fiery red. The next emanated a bright blue. The last radiated with a soft, neon green. The writing that intermingled between the spaces in the circles began to spin as the shapes glowed steadily brighter.

“I was finally able to break through. Excellent.”

The voice came from behind Derek. He immediately leaped into the air, startled, and spun around with a roundhouse kick. A hand reached forward and grabbed his ankle, halting him in mid-flourish. A slight squeeze and an upward push on his ankle, and Derek slammed down to the ground. The lights from the massive circles in the sky blinded him from looking directly into them, if only for a moment.

The man leaned over Derek’s face, offering respite from the bright pulses and glimmers of the whirling rings. They studied each other’s faces for a moment, the man smiling a wry, satisfied smile. Derek was not as entertained with the discovery. The man staring down at him, was himself.

This person, this ‘other’ him, offered his hand towards Derek. He accepted it in an almost automatic manner, and was lifted to his feet as if he was nothing but a bag of feathers. He squeezed his eyes shut one last time and opened them again. As he feared, yet expected, this man still stood, arms folded, and teeth bared in an almost childish grin. He looked just like Derek, but a much darker attire. Large sunglasses covered his eyes, and a longcoat made of an almost leather-like material covered his whole body. Black combat boots on the feet, and a type of fingerless biker-style gloves adorned his hands. He looked like a villain from a cheesy action movie.

“Are you…my evil subconscious? Evil twin? Physical embodiment of all my nightmares?” Derek sputtered out as best he could. “Explain what this is!”

“Derek, you’re a smart man. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to explain who I am to you. I hoped, actually, that you could tell me who I am, as a sort of mental exercise to start things off, as we have much to discuss here.” The shaded man replied.

“Sorry to disappoint you, whoever you are. But I don’t know. So, tell me then. Who are you?”

“Ah, a question with a simple answer. Most likely the simplest answer I’ll give you during our talk. As the answer to this question is almost painfully easy to give, it is a most profound concept.” The man said, cocking his head up and to the side, as if drifting off in thought. “Derek, I am you.”

“I figured you were going to say something like that, truth be told. But, what does that mean? You are me? That can’t be. I’m me.”

“Apologies, I’ll explain better. I am you, from a different time. A different place. A different life. The soul that inhabits your body once inhabited my own. You are me, only rebirthed. You’re a ‘newer model’, like an automobile. I existed in another plane of reality, another dimension of existence. However, when I died, my soul was allowed to return, because of who I was.”

“Who you were…? Who would that be?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. Even if this was all a dream, it had at the very least piqued a sort of curiosity.

“What I’m about to tell you, you will not believe. I guarantee you this. But, if you give me a chance, I can make you believe, make you see it, in time. Do you agree to this? Do you want to take this plunge, this dive? There will be no turning back once I unveil this information to you.” The shaded Derek answered.

“Something tells me this isn’t just a dream, is it…?”

“This is the in your mind, Derek. It’s in your psyche. This is a dream, in the technical sense, but it’s also real. You may not understand.” The shade-Derek responded, taking a moment to scratch his nose with his middle finger. “You see, I’ve always been here, behind that clouded veil you always saw in your nightmares. I’ve been pounding and banging at the walls of your conscious since you were born, but I needed an extra push. When you were exposed to Alastare’s…artifact, that was what I needed. A relic from another past life to jog your memory just enough to allow me enough leverage to reach you, to become one with you.”

“I…what? Past life? Artifact? I don’t understand.”

“You’re going to have to just open your mind and take in everything I’m going to tell you. To be frank, there’s no other way to put it. To get back to my original point, however, it’s time I tell you who, or rather what, you really are. What we really are, and what you will fully become, one day. You said you were ready, so here it is.

“You, and I, are one of the small parts of the collective consciousness of the Dark Force. We are called ‘Dark Falz’, as are all of our other parts scattered throughout the cosmos. We are hellfire, we are despair. We are hatred, we are jealousy, we are all the anger and negativity in the universe. We are the Dark God of Destruction itself, or at least of its many reincarnations. You are me, reborn. I was Dark Falz, as you are now.

“The object you saw in Alastare’s mansion was a fragment of a Dark Falz’s life. The very same fragment that I discovered that aided me when I, myself, was alive. It has also been reborn with you, but that power-hungry swine, Alastare, has managed to get a hold of it, and one of its sister-pieces. For instance, you may be asking yourself: ‘if I’m an immortal deity of unmatched darkness, how come I don’t feel like one?’, yes? The answer is because you do not HAVE your power. Alastare has found them first, somehow, and taken them from you. How he even knew what you were is beyo-“

“Stop! What in the HELL are you talking about? I’m just a man! I’m not a-a-a, what was it? Demon-god of…what?! This is insane, and I’m waking up now!” Derek screamed in the middle of his other self’s monologue. He began to run in circles, yelling gobbledygook and slapping his face back and forth, alternating hands. His other self stood, arms folded, eyebrow raised, and lips pursed at the childish, moronic display.

After a minute, Derek slowed down, clasping his hands over his eyes and breathing heavily, as he often did to relieve stress. He knew the man who claimed to also be him said to keep an open mind until the very end, but there was no way any of this was true, and no way was any of it was real. Demons? Gods? Inter-dimensional rebirthing? The kinds of things you read about in comic books for stupid teenagers, maybe. Not real things.

“Derek, didn’t I say to trust me? Didn’t I say that if you played along, at least for a little bit, that I would make you see? I still hold onto that promise, if you’ll just listen.” The other him said, arms folded calmly behind his back. “So, if you’re quite finished with your kindergarten tantrum, may I continue?”

“I…yes. Yeah, sorry. This is just a little much, you know? I mean, I feel like I shouldn’t care about any of this, since you even said this was technically in my head, which would make it a dream? No, hallucination, maybe? But, there’s this feeling, I guess. This feeling where I just kind of KNOW you’re not lying. I know you’re not lying…I think? But I wish you were. I honestly do.

“I’m just a simple desk-jockey for the Arks. I mean, how-“ Derek stopped and looked at the ground. The ground that wasn’t the real ground, since this was a world inside his mind, as his counterpart had told him. Trapped inside his own head? No, he could feel that he wasn’t trapped. He could wake up at any time. It almost felt like he had an invisible detonator of some sort that could just snap him out of the situation, and wake him up, wherever he may be.

But the longer he hung his head, examining the cracks in the fake pavement that his psyche had construed for his chance meeting with his decidedly darker alter-ego, the more he felt like this has his purpose. That empty hole he’d been feeling for the three-and-some-odd decades of his life. Always longing for something more, something of a higher caliber. Being told you’re a cog in the machine of a sinister demonic force that constantly threatens all life in the universe wasn’t particularly what he was looking for, but fate is a cruel mistress.

Derek sniffed and looked up at the almost heavenly design in the sky of his mind. It glimmered and shined, whirling inside itself, almost as if it was talking to him, inviting him to a new existence. Derek took his Arks-commissioned sunglasses off and tossed them to the ground. Staring bare-eyed into the dark, yet holy shape seemed to give him a connection with it. It started as a small pang in the back of his head, and rapidly began to spread.

He squeezed his eyes shut and doubled-over, the feeling becoming more and more intense. He could hear and see all sorts of things. Memories of the past, happenings of the present, and shadows of potential futures. His other self saw this, and chuckled.

“The hive-mind, the ‘collective consciousness’ that I told you of before, has recognized you. They say that the eyes are the ‘window to the soul’, Derek. By removing your sunglasses and staring at the Seal, you have been, let’s say, ‘authorized.’ Haha, welcome to the web.” He said, adjusting his blacked-out sports shades. “The process will be slightly painful.”

The sights filled Derek’s mind until he could no longer see what was actually in front of his eyes. The memories spilled outward from his brain, into full pictures in front of him. Then, the still images began to move, slowly at first, but then speeding up. Almost like a movie, or even more so, a virtual-reality.

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

A wizard of some sort, wearing black battle-armor and a matching cape struck a bolt of dark lightning into the chest of a woman. Her friends, most notably a younger, blond-haired boy, screamed.

-

A purple CAST-like man knelt in a dark, sinister cavern of some sort. A sort of pink and green, sickle-like weapons lay by his side. He mumbled gibberish and rocked back and forth, occasionally chuckling.

-

A small group of people stood on what appeared to be a giant chessboard, a great angel-like machine looming over them, preparing an attack.

-

Armies of nightmarish creatures began charging an assault on a bright, heavenly city. A great tower, which was an off-red color, opened what appeared to be a giant shield across the city, and through the sky in an attempt to halt the monster’s invasion from the entire planet.

-

The armor-clad wizard reappeared. He was yelling at Derek. How Derek was betraying him, leaving him to die. The boy with the golden-blond hair charged the wizard and ran him through with his metal blade.

-

A lone figure approached what appeared to be a tall stone obelisk in the middle of a sunny, flowery field. A collection of grave-markers sat several yards behind them. As the figure reached for the small altar in front of the pillar, Derek saw a flash of the red ring from Alastare’s mansion.

-

A woman with brown hair, accompanied by two men and a strange, almost cat-like creature, charged at Derek with her sword drawn. Tears in her eyes, she yelled in the name of her loved ones, and brought her blade down.

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

Derek leaped back in anticipation from the last memory-made-reality, and panted. He focused on the ground for a moment and realized that he was back in the city of his mind. He wiped the beaded sweat from his brow, and laughed nervously. It felt as if his mind had opened up; like he had a new fountain of knowledge at his disposal whenever he so desired. The invisible trigger he felt in his hand earlier was no longer there. He didn’t need it now. He had so much more.

“So.” His alter-ego spoke up, beginning a slow walk towards Derek, arms still behind his back, and a wily grin upon his face. “Want to hear more?”

[CupOfCoffee]

Love it! I wasn't a PSU player so I think I missed one or two of the "Falz memories," but I had an internal squee moment for the Kireek and Rico ones. I figured there might be a twist like this at some point in the story based on the title, but I didn't think it would be Derek. Actually—haha—I was kinda hoping it would be his robo secretary.

Keep it up!

[BIG OLAF]

Love it! I wasn't a PSU player so I think I missed one or two of the "Falz memories," but I had an internal squee moment for the Kireek and Rico ones. I figured there might be a twist like this at some point in the story based on the title, but I didn't think it would be Derek. Actually—haha—I was kinda hoping it would be his robo secretary.

Keep it up!

Thanks a lot! I tried to get some 'memorable' moments in there from a semi-wide array of PS games. I didn't touch upon every single one, and did some more than once, as you saw, but hopefully people get some tingles down the backs of their necks when they read it and go "I know what that's from!" or "I've played that scene!"

I was hoping this whole plot wasn't going to seem too 'fanservice-y', but I'm sure I can keep it mature and dark enough to hold that 'Saturday Morning Cartoon' feel at bay. ^^;

[goldwing]

Uv more????

[BIG OLAF]

Uv more????

If you mean "I had more that I didn't use and/or cut out of the finished bit", then sort of. I wanted a semi-wide array of flashbacks that I could utilize to encompass as many PS fans as I could, but without overdoing it. I started with probably about double what was in the finished product there, but nixed half of them, like I said.

Also, I'm steadily working on the second half of AWAKEN. I'll be able to do a good chunk of it tomorrow night, during maintenance for PSO2 (which is when I usually work on it~).

[BIG OLAF]

Here's the second half of "AWAKEN." Sorry it took so long....again. I was 'indisposed' for the past two weeks, else I would have had it posted faster.

____________________________________________



“Heh. That wasn’t so bad. I don’t have a choice anymore, do I? So yeah, bring on the details.” Derek replied, wiping the slick layer of sweat from his forehead and shaking the beads from the gelled spikes of his hair. “But, actually, I am curious…when did all of those memories I just saw take place? Recently?”

“Haha, no. No, some of them were millennia-old. Some fairly more ‘recent’, but that term is subjective there. You can sit and re-access those memories, and any others in the hivemind, whenever you’d like. Later, though.” The other Derek said, hanging his arm around the ‘real’ Derek and leading him down a nearby alleyway in the broken city, the walls and windows of the buildings all reflecting the shine of the rotating shape in the sky.

“Say, what exactly should I, uh, call you? I mean, we’re both ‘Derek’, but…like, I’m the ‘now’ Derek, and you’re the ‘then’ Derek, I guess. Any other name I can call you, to avoid confusion? I’m not trying to sound like a prick or anything, or saying you’re, like, not as ‘me’ as me…or, uh...” Derek spattered, confusing himself halfway through his explanation.

“No, I understand. Don’t worry, I was beginning to become a bit confused with it, myself. For the sake of sparing our mind any befuddlement, just call me ‘Alter’, as in ‘alter-ego.’ That sound good?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. The ‘alter-ego.’ The ‘alter-me’, I guess. All right, that takes care of that. Now, another question. Er, if that’s okay with you and all.”

They exited the alleyway and entered out onto a wide street, a small park bench situated nicely next to a tree and a dented garbage can. A few feet from the seat of the bench, the grass it sat upon rolled down into a lush, green hill, and then ultimately into a crystal-clear lake, in which the bright seal’s reflection could be seen perfectly. It was out-of-place for the rest of the destroyed, crumbling city that made up Derek’s inner psyche.

“Of course, Derek. Ask away. That’s why I’m here, remember? To help you make sense of it all. You’re already recognized by the ‘network’, now I’ll just fill in any gaps that you so wish to be filled.” Alter assured Derek as he took his arm from around his shoulders and slowly sat on the bench, its wood and metal polished and clean, untouched by whatever manner of devilry had decimated the surrounding urban area.

“Well.” Derek said, slapping his hands onto his lap. “Obviously, I’d like to know exactly what THAT thing is.” He pointed upwards to the sky, the thing occupying the airspace looking like a moving painting, the colors bouncing off of the metals of the surrounding area, and the water of the lake. “You keep calling it ‘The Seal.’ Seal of what?”

“That is the Algolian Seal. Every Falz soul must pass through it when they’re being reborn. It gives us our power, but also our weakness. It’s our angel, and our devil.”

“Where did it come from? It couldn’t have just popped out of nowhere.”

“It came from a far-off galaxy, called Algol, hence the name, where all the Falzes were first created by The Profound Darkness, which is the true embodiment of all evil and hatred in the vast universe. The blond-haired boy you saw in some of your memory alignments thought that he and his friends destroyed Dearest Mother, but alas, they certainly did not. But, that’s a story for another time, it is. As for the Seal, it gives us life, where it once brought us captivity and death, you see.”

Alter stood up, and fixed the flaps of his unbuttoned coat. He adjusted his sunglasses and looked out over the lake, a cocky smirk on his face. Derek looked up at him with a small amount of unease, but also with content. His ‘other’ self, his ‘past’ self, he supposed, had already taken a sort of ‘older brother’ role.

It was a funny thing, talking to himself, or so he thought. Not many people get to experience that, if anyone at all ever had. At times, when they would face each other, it was as if he was standing in a mirror, and yet his reflection was talking back at him. Even the notion would had seemed thought-provoking to Derek nigh but a day ago.

“Derek. One last thing, I think, and then we’re done.” Alter said as he leaned back slightly and looked over the rims of his sunglasses towards Derek. Alter’s eyes had no pupils, no iris. They were solid black. Looking into them was like looking into the vacuum of space itself. “With your rebirth, there were some…complications, which led to this whole mess in the first place. Let me elaborate.

“You see, when a Falz is reborn, its soul is, how do you say, ‘pulled’ out of a sort of…ah, this is hard to expla-…look, it’s almost like a balloon. Yeah, let’s call it a balloon.”

“A soul…balloon?”

“Yes! A soul balloon. Now, when a Falz is reborn, it’s almost as if someone is very slowly sliding a sewing needle into the balloon, without popping it. You know, like how those cheap, birthday-party magicians do it? Anyway, the ‘needle’ slides in, pokes through the soul it wants to rebirth, and sort of, uh, skewers it, I suppose. Then, the needle slowly retracts out of the balloon, holding the singular soul, in this case, yours, and the hole seals behind.”

Alter’s face blanked after the last sentence was finished. He sniffed and picked at his nose, planting his left foot up on the bench next to Derek. He paused for a moment and released a dark chuckle.

“But that’s not what happened this time, surprisingly. Which is, as I said before, where all of this began. You see, when the needle pulled you out of the balloon, fate decided, for whatever reason, to tear the hole open ever-so-slightly more than usual. Now, what that did-”

Alter abruptly paused and looked around, the wind whistling through the empty streets and alleys around the small park. After a moment, Derek saw Alter squint his eyes in one particular direction, and stare for a long minute or two, still as a statue.

“Sorry. Anyway, where was I?” Alter asked, after spitting and turning back to Derek. “Ah, yes. Now, what that did, was it made a sort of ‘memory leak’, if you will. Certain people and objects from our past lives, uh, came back with you when you were reborn, including both that pretty little armband and those lovely earrings that our good friend Toji Alastare now possesses.

“Now, the kicker here is that it’s because of that little, shall we say, ‘hiccup’, that you had no idea who, or rather, WHAT you were. It is also why you have no power or ability to prove it to yourself. Reason for that being, your strength was cut into three pieces, and solidified as that armband, those earrings, and another piece. If Alastare finds that third piece, he will become a god, not you. Obviously, we can’t let that happen.”

“But, how would he even know about any of this? About me, about the, uh, pieces? That part is what doesn’t really jive with me.” Derek responded, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow while leaning back in on the bench.

“That is one question I do not know the answer to, sadly. Ironically, it’s the one answer I wish I did. Maybe one of those zany old artifacts in his house tipped him off somehow. Based on his interests, I’d say he dabbles in the occult. Well, okay, probably more than just dabbles, given how he’s the centerpiece in his own plot to steal the God of Destruction’s powers.”

Alter beckoned Derek to get up, and began walking, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. Derek hurried to his side and fell in stride with him.

“So, you said there would be people from my past lives, too? Will they remember me?” He asked Alter, genuinely interested in meeting people from the past.

“Oh, no. They won’t. But, they’ll be everywhere. In fact, your secretary, Andromeda, is one of them. I knew her in my life. Not as closely as you know her now, but I knew her. Amazing, isn’t it? She won’t be the last, either. You’ll remember them when you see them, but they won’t remember you.”

Alter stopped in the middle of a large intersection. He took his sunglasses off and slid them into one of the inside pockets of his coat, and sighed. Derek halted a few steps behind him.

“Well, that’s it then. Time for you to wake up. Don’t worry though, I’ll be here whenever you need me. Think of me like your conscious. You can talk to me in your head whenever you’d like. Pretty nifty, if I do say so myself, and I did.”

“Uh, yeah. But, listen. There’s one thing that’s been bothering me. If I’m one of the reincarnations of an evil, destructive force bent on ruining the universe, then why exactly would I want to do that? I don’t want to be a bad guy. I want to help people. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Thrusting me into a role where I have to do the opposite is just, well, not fair.” Derek said, an extra amount of force in his last sentence.

“Derek, who ever said you would be the bad guy? Think about it thusly: Alastare wants to rule the ORACLE fleet, and probably the whole universe, eventually. Or so we can assume. You, and I, are going to stop him. Doesn’t seem like a bad thing, does it?

“Also, just because someone or something is labeled in a certain way, doesn’t mean they, or it, has to act in that way. You see what I mean? The universe isn’t always ‘good and evil’, ‘black and white’, or ‘yes and no’, Derek. Certainly not. Sometimes, you have to rise up against such rules and labels and make your own way, your own destiny. That’s what I did, and that’s what you’re going to do."

Alter stopped and crossed his arms, looking at the ground with a hot intensity, then began again.

“There are such things as ‘neutral.’ There are such situations as ‘gray.’ There are such answers as ‘maybe.’ You don’t always have to be what you think you are. I certainly wasn't. That’s what I’m saying.”

Derek raised his brow. It was quite an uplifting speech. Derek could take his power back from Alastare, and use it for the good of the ORACLE fleet, and for the good of the cosmos. Alter was completely correct. Things didn’t always have to be as they were designed.

“So, Derek. You ready to go shopping?” Alter asked, raising his head up to meet Derek's gaze, while rubbing his hands together in an almost greedy way.

“G-go shopping? For what?”

“Sunglasses, and a very special pair at that!”

[Gama]

i love how you make every detail feel so important o.o

you're good at this.

reminds me of the small number interesting books i actually finished. because i couldnt stop reading them.

[yoshiblue]

Nice work, Olaf. Can't wait to read the next portion of this.

[BIG OLAF]

In honor of what appears to be the new 'boom', if you will, of aspiring writing in the Fan Works section, I'll (finally) be picking this back up this upcoming weekend. So, if you haven't already (and want to, obviously), please g'head and play a little 'ketchup' 'catch-up'.

Thanks to everyone who has flooded this sub-forum with new work lately; you've inspired me again and pushed me passed my seemingly endless dissuasion.

[Zorafim]

...how the hell did I miss this?

...this was kind of cool. Yeah, give me more. I'll be looking forward to it.

[o0Kais0o]

I love the level of detail and slight noirish tone you write with, this is definitely something I will be keeping an eye on. ^^

[BIG OLAF]

Sorry this took so long. I had to struggle with inspiration again for a week or so. It's all good, though. I'm going to try the Spoiler-Box thing for the chapters now, since it seems to be all the rage, and makes sense to me.

Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy.

_________________________________________________

ATONE

[SPOILER-BOX]The courtroom filled with low chatter as the last of the forensics experts took their seats in the back of the white-tiled isles, to await the moment when their expertise would be needed, as all the other reluctant guests did. Some shifted nervously in their seats, some twiddled their thumbs, and looked on, towards the judge and the opposing parties in the case. No one dare speak too loudly, in fear of the defendant, the dark, brooding one who had came to be known to the general public as the 'Bullet Witch'. Her jet-black hair slicked back, her green eyes like vivid, burning gemstones that would melt through a lesser being's psyche if they stared into them too long.

Their thoughts, and fears, were interrupted by the presiding judge ascending the small stair to his tall, white-marbled seat, adorned in his black robe, the bright, golden star of the Arks and accompanying golden flake decorations in the cloth glimmering in the light let in through the numerous skylights. He adjusted the robe around his neck, relaxing the fit, and grasped his gavel.

“This court is now in session!”, he spoke with command, banging his gavel once to facilitate the authority it now held over everyone in the room. “Will the defendant please stand?”

The piercing, almost daemonic green eyes looked up towards the official. For as bright and attracting as they were, they were hollow, and dead. Her lips did not move, her eyebrows did not twitch. She slowly raised from her seat, revealing to the crowd her glossed, pitch-black armor, and the glowing green accents that danced across her metal shell, in such a color and vividness to match her eyes, faded between brightnesses, and drew the attention of the huddled masses towards her even more.

She did not take a submissive posture, nor one of shame. Her stature was cocksure, and complacent, and steadfast as always. Her eyes came alive with a fiery retribution, a snide smirk on her lips. The light clinking of metal on metal was heard as she placed her hands on her hips. Even such a small sound was enough to alert the bailiffs and extra security in the courtroom to remove their weapons from their holsters and train them on her. She was, after all, the 'Bullet Witch', the 'Mistress of Murder', the 'Gun Goddess'. To let her make any sudden movements without so much as their reaction was death, whether or not she was armed with a firearm.

The judge, remaining unfazed by her movements and his security's reaction, began to recite her charges.

“Andromeda, model number 2XSF7, you are hereby charged with the following-

“Twenty counts of political espionage, thirteen counts of corporate espionage, ten counts of insider trading, sixty-seven counts of assault, three-hundred twenty accounts of attempted murder, and three-hundred eighty-two accounts of murder in the first degree. How do you plea?”

An astonished hush fell over the already near-dead silence of the crowd seated behind the counsel. Numerous onlookers uncomfortably shifted in their seats, other visibly held back tears or strangled their own gasps in fear of drawing her attention. Amidst all of this, a lone man quickly shuffled into the courtroom and hurriedly sat himself on the empty seat nearest the door, a small folder filled with papers clutched firmly in his hand.

“How do I plea?”, Andromeda scoffed, looking to her left and right slowly, seemingly to judge the other inhabitants of her court case. “This is asinine. You've already arrested, tried, and convicted all of my...clients. It's quite obvious what I am. This is part of your due process, then? Wasting more of the citizens' meseta on the shock-and-awe show of the trial of a proven mass-murderer? Absolutely pathet-”

The judge slammed his gavel into the wooden plate that was attached to his long, tall counter. His brow furrowed, a noticeable fury in his eyes that even made the defendant twitch slightly.

“No one came here to hear you, of all people, stand on a soapbox and spew drivel! Now, How do you plea?!”

“Guilty.”, she grated, the gritted word echoing around the room several times as Andromeda placed herself back into her seat. A visible scowl on her face, she looked up towards the judge once more. “Did you expect me to plead 'not guilty' and continue with this facade? I want it over with.”

This time, there was no stopping the gasps and other grunts and chokes of the crowd. One of the prosecutors spat his water back into his glass, coughing in a fit for a moment. He then stood up, adjusted his tie, attempting to make what appeared to be a smug grin before approaching the judge.

“Hrm. Your Honor, the prosecution is pleased with this and would like to proceed with sentencing.”

The judge nodded coldly, not taking his eyes off the metal woman sitting across the small space of floor and to his right side.

“Very well, then. It won't be hard to decide YOUR fate. For your misdeeds and your baseless disregard for the sanctity of life, you will be sentenced to permanent deactivation and your body will be scrapped. Effective posthaste. Get her out of he-”

The man who had snuck in those minutes ago abruptly stood up. This was the chance he had been waiting for. He began to stride towards the small gate that separated the judge and opposing sides to the audience, and addressed the judge.

“Your Honor, I mean no disrespect, but that is against the very law you uphold!”

The judge snapped his head up from his papers in shock, giving the man a befuddled glance. The man ran his fingers through his hair, white as a fresh layer of snow on an overcast day.

“..and how is this so?...a-and, furthermore, just who are you?!”

“I'm Derek Fultz, Arks Sergeant, recently promoted to Commander, sir.”, he replied, adjusting his collar and placing the folder he held in front of the judge's face. “You'll find that, according to these statutes that I've copied right from the Arks Lawbook, you cannot deactivate her. Take a look here-”

Derek flipped open the folder and shuffled through the first few papers, laying them neatly to the side. With a look of eagerness, he spun the third piece around to face the judge and pointed at the second paragraph.

“You'll see here, Your Honor, that according to the CAST Rights Protocols, Section One, Article Twelve, Sub-Section Eight, you cannot permanently deactivate a CAST without first asking them if they would rather be reprogrammed for a different purpose and given a second chance in a new societal role. If, however, they repeat any of their previous offenses, then they are forfeit and can then be permanently be deactivated.”

“Hrmm...I see you're point, Mister....Fultz, was it?”, the judge snorted after processing the information for a moment or so. “But, it also says that someone must invoke this right as new proprietor and/or employer to the CAST in question, and that the CAST must first and foremost AGREE to the reprogramming and re-purposing procedure. Who here is invoking the right?”

“I am!”, Derek exclaimed, carefully taking a step back, and raising his arms, his hands open.

“I figured. Now, does the CAST in question, Andromeda, model number 2XSF7, agree to these terms?”

Andromeda looked up from the blank table which had held her attention since hearing her sentence,and blinked slowly. Her piercing gaze shifted from the judge, to the ceiling, and to the man, Derek Fultz, for what seemed like an age. She raised her hand to her forehead and ran a strand of hair which had detached itself from her otherwise perfectly-slicked head back into its place and blinked again.

“I do not.”

“I...what?!” Derek sputtered out, his eyes wide as the skylights in the roof. He then spun back around and shouted to the judge. “Uh, Your Honor, I request a short recess to speak with this woman in privat-”

“She has told us her choice. I will abide by it and w-”

“Ten minutes, Your Honor! Ten!!”, Derek blurted, the judge clearly angry with being cut off. “If I can't change her mind in ten measly little minutes, you can crush her into the size of a soup can right now! Ten. Minutes. Please.”

The judge, frowning deeply enough to frighten away even the darkest of evils, nodded after contemplating a moment. He agreed to the ten minutes, nothing more. He stood up and pointed to a small hallway to the right of his seat, and instructed his bailiffs to accompany the two. Derek thanked the judge as graciously as he could, and he and Andromeda made their way, along with almost the entire security force, down to the end of the hallway. Derek opened the door and allowed Andromeda to pass through first. He began to follow, but was stopped by one of the guards for a brief moment.

“We'll be standing right outside the door. All of us. Three of us will have our guns trained on the door. If we hear any noise besides voices, any noise at all, we're coming in and fillin' anything that moves with as many fuckin' bullets as our guns will allow, as fast as we can pull the triggers. Ten minutes, sir.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, and nodded, finishing his entrance to the room and closing the door behind him. Andromeda had already seated herself on one side of the desk. It seemed to be a room for private questioning, or even perhaps where the jury gathered after all the evidence of a court case was given, for them to make their verdict. A few bookshelves lined the walls, and several empty seats sat scattered around the long, rectangular table in the middle of the room. Derek grabbed a chair and dragged it to the opposite side of the CAST woman. He sat and folded his hands in front of him.

“Now, first of al-”

“Listen, you puke. I don't know what your angle is, but I'm not buying it. Who hired you? Who sent you? What is this shit, huh?!”, Andromeda shouted, her shrill, powerful voice making another echo. A stirring was heard behind the door shortly afterward.

“Are you trying to get us shot?”, Derek breathed in a hushed tone. “They said they'll come in here and light us both up if they think things are going south. Calm the fuck down and hear me out. No one 'sent' me or 'hired' me. Your trial has been all over the news, but none of the 'expert' news legal analysts that I've seen have had the balls to bring up the statute that I had to go out and find myself. They were going to kill you. Illegally, at that! That doesn't bother you?”

“Why woul-...”, Andromeda paused, folding her arms and looking to the ceiling, almost lost in a dream. “I mean, sure, it's cute or whatever that you want to come down here and think you're some sort of hero for saving the life of a hitman. But, this 'reprogramming' thing; I don't like the sound of it. You're going to, what, brainwash me? I think that's what you meatsacks call it.”

Derek leaned back in his chair, scratching at his snowy beard in a mixture of frustration and contemplation. He began cracking his knuckles and twisting his neck back and forth, making audible pops as the air pockets were released from between his bones.

“'Brainwashing'? No, not at all. Your memories will still be there. You will still be there, fully intact. It's, uh, it's like an antidepressant pill. You know what those are?”, he asked, Andromeda souring her face for a moment before nodding.

“Right, it's like that. I know a guy, named Jed, who's really good with CASTs. He's very professional, and gentle, and he can do it right for you. It's just a few small things. He'd basically just go into your motherboard and processors and rewire you to not put quite so much stake into, uh, killing, and re-purpose you for a more productive task.”

“Which would be...?”

“Well, a secretary. It's just, I got a lot of work to do. I did get my promotion, like I said, and I'm in need of a-”

“Okay, hold on there, bud. You want me to shuffle papers and answer phones? Are you a fucking idiot? I'd rather BE deactivated. This conversation is over. Have a nice life, jackass, because being an office monkey sure isn't one.”

She jumped from her chair, her burning gaze as scornful and angry as ever. Derek had an idea. He knew exactly what he had to say now. Her heavy metal boots made hollow thunk noises on the floor as Derek spoke, not even turning to look towards her.

“But it is, isn't it? Try to think of it this way. Think of it not like a dull life. Don't think of it as less than what you have now. What you have now is about to run out. In fact, I don't think it was ever fuller than it is now, anyway. I see that look in those eyes of yours. That look of never knowing anything else but what you have now. Being on the end of a rope, with no way out of your current hell. I think that what you really want is to be happy.

“You think the only way to finally achieve the greater purpose of happiness is to simply not exist. Well that's, also simply, not true. There are all kinds of opportunities out there for you. I've offering you one of them. All you have to do to stay alive and experience true happiness, is let me scan your factory code and sign a little piece of paper. That's it.”

He heard the thunks stop, and the shift of feet on the floor. She carefully walked back to her chair, and sat down, her eyebrows low on her face, disdain pouring from what felt like every inch of her body. Then, her brow raised. She blinked a few times and squinted her eyes at Derek, tilting her head.

Derek opened his coat and took out a small barcode reader and a little envelope. He held the button down on the reader, turning it on, and pulled a piece of paper from the envelope. Gingerly unfolding it, he laid it on the table and spread his hand over it to flatten it out. He grasped the reader in his right hand, and pulled a pen from his coat's outside pocket with his left, and laid it quietly next to the paper.

“Funny”, he chuckled, holding the barcode reader up slightly. “I didn't know CASTs could cry.”

Andromeda squeezed her eyes shut, more drops of fluid running down her pale, smooth cheeks and silently splashing onto the table. She reopened them, no longer full of hatred. They glowed with an emerald brilliance of satisfaction and elation, for the first time.

“Shut up and scan me, damn you”, she snorted, holding the inside of her right wrist up to the code reader, failing to hide the smile from her lips.

“Hell, I'm gonna make sure you get a personality adjustment, too. I don't like that stuffy tone you take, haha!”

Derek lifted the reader, and held the button down. A few seconds later, a small beep was heard, along with the scratching of a pen tip on paper. No guns were fired.[/SPOILER-BOX]

[CelestialBlade]

Wow, that was a stressful case, I like how you captured the atmosphere of it. Looking forward to more and it's good to see a new chapter :D SPOILER BOXES ARE AWESOME AND YOU KNOW YOU LOVE EMBRACING THEM

[o0Kais0o]

Good chapter, loving Andromedas backstory and her interaction with Derek was well done. Looking forward to seeing where you take this :)

[BIG OLAF]

Thanks a lot to the both of you, I appreciate it. I'll try to have the next bit up within two weeks.

[BIG OLAF]

Okay so that wasn't quite two weeks but hey.
________________________________________

ATTUNE

[SPOILER-BOX]The creeping blackness slowly gave way to the thicker, yet wispier, grayness above his face. He felt his head roll to the side, gently cocked, as the grayness brought into his sight a brighter color. A soft yellow, that swung back and forth in the otherwise dark murk.

As his eyes began to focus, he watched the yellow bulb swing to and fro above him, amidst the thick, gray dust that danced through the musty, hollow air. He turned his head more, and saw a few pipes that jutted from the upper corner of the old, rusted metal wall, where the crease of the ceiling began. One of them let loose a small stream of air, as he could tell from the clouds of dust that were abruptly shoved away if they dared too close.

Derek moved his arms underneath his body and forced himself up, a splitting pain that only lasted for a moment coursing through his whole body. He blinked hard and rubbed his eyes, shifting his legs towards himself to prepare to stand. As he slowly climbed to his feet, he heard the familiar clunking of friendly, metal feet. He knew those heels anywhere.

Andromeda rounded the corner, her helmet on her head, sleek and pointed in the back, the neon green face-shield down the front reflecting the yellow glow from the singular bulb that still swayed carelessly from the ceiling. She carried, in her hands, a large rifle. It was a decent cut above the standard Arks-issued armaments. Its barrel, and clip, were both much longer, and the weapon itself more menacing. Her eyes shot as far open as they could as she lifted her helmet's shield and ran to Derek, planting a kiss on his cheek with her cool, synthetic lips.

“Commander, you are awake! I was very, very worried! You had been unconscious for six whole days! I was very apprehensive about the state of your nutrition! I am not sure how long an organic body can go without food, water, or certain essential vitamins! Tell me, do you feel dizzy?”

Andy leaned back and looked at him, the light emitting from her irises basking Derek's face with a dim, green glow. He raised his eyebrow and smiled.

“No, don't feel dizzy at all, actually. I'm a bit thirsty, but that's it, really.”, Derek responded. Then, a look of sudden bewilderment stuck his face, as he backed away from Andy. He had forgotten about his previous venture in Alastare's mansion, and how he had plummeted three stories down through a window and blacked out.

“Andy, wait a minute! How did I get here? What happened that night I went to Alastare's party?!”

“Well, Commander, as you know, I am always cautious of those types of invitations. Seemingly out of the blue, as some would call it. So, I disobeyed your order to take the night off and followed behind your limousine, all the way to Alastare's house. When I heard the gunfire, I attempted to go through the front doors, but they would not open. I was lucky enough to be on the same side of the house as the window you fell from. I managed to pull you from the bushes and save you, as some Red Halo members came looking for your body shortly afterward.

“I used to use these sewers when I...had my other job, as you recall. I assessed that this would be the best place to take you. However, Commander, a lot has changed in the short week you have been here. It seems you have been labeled a terrorist threat, the bounty posted by Toji Alasatre himself, even. He has managed to calm relations between the Arks and the Red Halo in an attempt to find you. He has Red Halo patrols all over downtown. I am afraid it would be next to impossible for you to travel without being spotted presently.”

Derek scratched the back of his head and leaned his arm against the nearest wall. It was a lot to take in, especially on top of everything else he has been though. The things Andy had not seen. It was then he wondered how, exactly, he was to tell his trusted assistant, let alone anyone else, about his new-found 'job', as it were. His newly-discovered 'destiny', even. It's not every day you talk to yourself in a dream and are told you have one of many souls of an ancient, evil hive-mind god.

But, then that was the source of all this madness. That was why Alastare had tried to have him killed. He must know about all of the power, and want it for himself. An easy power-grab, becoming a god is. Derek stood up straight and stretched his arms behind him.

“Andy, where's my cigs? I'm a little stressed right now, and, uh, could use one or two.”

Andromeda pulled Derek's black jacket from behind the old, worn-out generator near her feet and dusted it off. Derek could see his half-empty pack of cigarettes from the last known night of his consciousness still nestled in the front pocket. Andy handed his jacket to him, and he pulled a smoke and his lighter from it as he swung it over his body and put it on proper.

“Okay.”, he said, lit cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. “Show me how to get out of here. I've got something I need to find. Something that, hopefully, can at least put a bit of a stop to this insanity. Completely fucked, this whole situation. More than you know, sweetie.”

“Commander, while I do not advise you to go up into the city, I know that you will not listen anyway!”, Andy responded, a big, bright grin streaking across her face as she finished her sentence. “Down the hallway I came from, there is a metal ladder that leads to the surface. I will not follow immediately, but, remember, I will never be far behind.”

Derek winked at her and passed behind her, turning the corner and heading up the rusted metal latches that served as a ladder to the manhole that led to the surface. As he opened the heavy steel covering, he felt droplets of rain patting his head, lightly and rhythmically. It was a cool evening. The sun was just going down over the dome of the Ship. The rain pittered and pattered along the alley pavement as Derek replaced the manhole cover with his heavy, black boot and began on his way, strolling past dumpster halfway filled with wet, smelly garbage. Old newspapers stuck to the ground as the rain beat them flatter with each drop.

Derek held his hand over his nose, to both hide his face and keep his cigarette from going out in the rain. It felt odd, this smoke. It felt as it it wasn't satisfying him as it usually would. It had only been six days, according to Andy, and, yet, it was like he had never even smoked before. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a few long drags, attempting to feel any of the calming effects that would accompany the act. However, none came. The whole stick was burned now, and Derek's craving for a smoke had not been the least bit sated.

He had wandered, perplexed by the aforementioned odd phenomenon, to the end of the alleyway. He now stood on a somewhat familiar sidewalk in the downtown area of the city. Only somewhat familiar as, Derek being the bit of curmudgeon as he was, seldom went to this part of town. This part of town was for the young people, the upbeat people, the people with something to DO. Derek was none of these things.

Well, at least not usually. Tonight, he found that he did, indeed, have something to do. Something that, to the layperson, may outlandish and peculiar. He had to find some sunglasses that would make him something along the lines of immortal.

A sound of distant thunder rang out in the sky above, the weather regulator units switching to a thunderstorm cycle. A few remaining people, all young and upbeat, hurried their ways to where they were going as Derek looked up at the artificial clouds forming, his hand fumbling for another cigarette out of his front pocket. As he looked back down to the streets, he noticed them. Two younger men wearing red jumpsuits, both with medium-sized firearms in-hand. They hadn't noticed him; they were talking to each other about previous sexual encounters, as men of their age and intelligence, or lack thereof, often do.

Derek quickly scanned up and down the street, and spied, luckily, a small cornerstore that specialized in designer sunglasses. Being in the more ritzy part of the city, filled with higher-class clubs, bars, restaurants, and shopping plazas, it wasn't unusual to find smaller establishments such as that one waiting for patrons to enter, even this late in the evening.

As the Red Halo goons continued their drivel, Derek briskly walked down the other side of the street and entered the store. It was rather small inside, however adorned with the latest celebrity lines of glasses and shades the floor, walls, aisles, and even ceiling were. The single employee, a young Newman woman, leaned on the counter, slowly chewing gum like a sort of farm animal as the newest tune of one of the hottest young stars, Frieda Kagahara, blared through the speakers.

Derek couldn't stand the music, but he immediately began searching, drawing the occasional strange gaze from the girl at the register. He remembered what Alter had said about his memories having a way of finding him, and how he'd KNOW this item when he saw it. He reassured himself with these facts as he spun every rack, pulled out every pair of glasses from every holder, ran down every aisle multiple times, trying on every kind of eyewear he could. Kids' designs, magnified designs for the elderly, anything he could. Nothing was standing out to him.

He backed up and let out a loud grunt, causing the young woman at the front to startle. He ignored her, and thought to himself how insane this 'quest' of his was. There had to be at least a dozen of eye stores in the downtown sector ALONE. Who the hell was he fooling, picking a random one and digging through it? The odds of finding it were slim to none, not to mention that patrol that still lingered outside, but now turned their gaze to him through the window and squinted closely. Derek Fultz was not a hard man to recognize. Tall, lean, snow-white hair on his head and face. They had spotted him, and were wasting no time running across the street, their rifles already trained on him.

One of them kicked the front door open, shattering the glass as it swung back and hit the side of the register. The young employee screamed and dropped under the checkout counter. The other Red Halo flowed in behind the first. Both of their rifles still trained on Derek.

“Shit, thought it was him! See? I told you, didn't I? Now we're in for a fat bonus, I'll tell ya! Well, I am. You're not. You didn't even want to come check the guy out.” The first one said, cocking his head and spitting into the air. “Okay, Mr. Fultz, you're coming with us.”

“Why's he have to come with us?”, the second one blurted. “Don't you remember what ol' Alastare said? He doesn't want him alive. The only thing we have to do is kill him! Easiest assignment ever! So come on, then. Who's gonna do it? I volunteer!”

“Oh, shut up! It was my idea to come see if it was him, so I think it's only fair that I get to shoot him! Hm, but where? Headshots are boring and way overdone.”

“Ooh, okay then. How about a chest shot? Or would that be too quick? Hey, wait! Maybe I want to shoot him!”

They were beginning to ease their fingers on the triggers of their rifles. Derek moved his eyes around the store without shifting his head. Any small movement would make both of them fire, he was sure. Not that it mattered, anyway. Their orders were to KILL him. He was going to die, no matter what. He stopped and asked himself what he was even looking for. He was a dead man, nothing was going to save him now.

But, then, he saw a pair of glasses that seemed very peculiar. Simple enough as its design, it seemed to attract his gaze no matter how hard he tried to continue to look around. A simple, red frame, and the lenses tinted a very light blue color, almost unnoticeable. The item lay only a foot or so from his grasp, one of the pairs that must have been knocked from the racks as he stampeded around when he first entered the store.

“...and that's why we should both shoot him! Only fair, that way. We can both have fun, right? Then we can get our big fat fuckin' payday from ol' Alastare, then retire! We can hit the clubs and try to score with all the girls we meet!" The second man said, before pausing, then suddenly continuing in a burst of excitement. "Shit, no, we won't have to TRY! We'll be rich! Millions upon millions of meseta! We'll be drowning in pu-”

“Hey, guys.”, Derek interrupted, both of the men looking at him with a shock that abruptly turned to malice. “I'm not gonna try to say I can match what Alastare is going to pay you. I know I can't. But, listen. I've had a pretty rough time of it lately. I was just in, uh, a coma, I guess, for a week. I mean, okay. I know you want to kill me. But, wouldn't it be more impressive if you killed me in front of your boss? Might make you seem tougher, maybe. Might prove a point to him. I'm not going to fight back. How can I? Two on one, and you're both armed. I was, as I said, in a coma for almost a week. I literally just woke up out of it like an hour or so ago. I'm pretty fucked right now. There's no challenge here. Just, y'know, come on, guys.”

They both lowered their rifles just long enough for Derek to roll onto his side and grab the glasses. He managed to clutch them firmly in his hand just before two superheated photon blasts roared out of the barrels of the rifles and cracked right through his ribcage.[/SPOILER-BOX]

[o0Kais0o]

The single employee, a young Newman woman, leaned on the counter, slowly chewing gum like a sort of farm animal as the newest tune of one of the hottest young stars, Frieda Kagahara, blared through the speakers.

This had me chuckling to myself. Good stuff. ^^

[BIG OLAF]

Oh, thanks. I didn't even remember including that until I saw you bring it up. Some of it may be written a bit weak, as I decided to just up and finish that chapter on a random whim at about midnight last night, in the midst of a rather painful headache, as well. I appreciate my few fans, though. :)

[Zorafim]

Nice to see you in fan works again. Glad I have more fanfics to sate my appetite. And to motivate me to write.

You're got a rather cynical style of wordsmithing. It's perfect for the type of story you're telling, and is kinda refreshing really.

[BIG OLAF]

Thank you. I tend to lean towards more darkly and, as you put it, cynical atmospheres in a lot of things I write up. I originally didn't really want this story to have a "noir" feel to it, and wanted it to feel more like an action movie (as juvenile as that may or may not sound), but I'm much happier with how it's turning out presently.

Hopefully I'll stop taking such long breaks in between writing sessions. I did up most of that last bit on a completely random whim one night well after I should have been asleep, as I mentioned. I hope I get more random bursts of inspiration going forward, albeit at more opportune times. Thank you again, Mr. Fish.

[CelestialBlade]

You're got a rather cynical style of wordsmithing. It's perfect for the type of story you're telling, and is kinda refreshing really.
I think this is a really good way of describing your writing. It's definitely refreshing and unique, and in a vacuum I feel like I could definitely tell your writings apart from others here based on this tone. It's good to see you writing again, hope this keeps up!

[yoshiblue]

So when's the next chapter? http://static-cdn.jtvnw.net/jtv_user_pictures/emoticon-2868-src-5a7a81bb829e1a4c-28x28.png