"Okay Nemesis, we're bumping your security locks to allow you to use eighty-five percent output of your capacity in this test." A voice over an intercom said. "Your goal is to take down the enemy crafts as quickly as possible with as little damage done to you as possible."

"Understood," Nemesis replied, her own voice echoed in the large chamber. It was 320 yards long and 107 yards wide with the ceiling being about 100 yards high. There were multiple pillars of different heights throughout the room with dents and burned marks from previous runs. Behind Nemesis was a glass window that lead to the control room where she was being monitored from. Larger doors opened in the walls and flying crafts came in, the crafts started to move around the room at different height levels.

The intercom cut on one last time and the voice simply said, "Begin." The flying crafts started to move differently, some moving towards Nemesis, others seeming to move into some strategic formation. Nemesis tuck her bangs behind her ear and looked over at the crafts. Her sight zoomed in on the crafts to reveal no one was piloting them.

"Model number Z.M. 152 Sky drones," she said as she identified her new target. She started to run towards the three drones flying towards her. As she did they all started to fire their ammunition at her. She dodges out of the way and jumped up on top of a law pillar near by, then to a slightly higher pillar. She stopped and held her hand out and a small pistol flipped out of her fore arm, leaving a space where it came from, and she aimed at a nearby craft. A slightly high pitched sound emitted from the pistol and a pink bolt of energy emitted from it and shot straight through the cockpit, hitting the control panel in the process.

The craft fell onto another craft and they both crashed into the ground disabled. She jumped off the pillar she was on and landed on the the third craft that had assaulted her. The pistol morphed back into her left forearm and then she flipped over the side o the craft into its cockpit and ripped out its control panel. She jumped out of the falling machine onto a nearby pillar and then the intercom came on again. "Nemesis, good work the last test for the day is to test your new equipment 'Delta Ray," the voice over the intercom said.

"Got it," she said with a slight smile, she always liked getting to test new upgrades. She jumped from pillar to pillar and place a small device on three pillars. She stood behind the third device she placed on the final pillar. The devices were placed in a triangle formation around the crafts. She held her arm out and a small semitransparent control panel appeared at her finger tips, emitted from a small device in her right wrist. She input a code on the panel and the three devices she had places formed small beacons on the top of each one. Then laser beams reflected off each beacon multiple times until it covered the whole area between each beacons and sliced the crafts in two.

"This is a trap mechanism correct? It seems like it would be best effective if used against large traveling forces on a short timer that starts countdown after it's been triggered to allow a few moments for more targets to enter the area of effect," she stated. A small matrix started to scroll down her eyes as the information she had collected was transferred to the control panel center.

"Good job Nemesis, your systems are all functioning normally you are dismiss for the day," the voice over the intercom announced. The pillars started to lower into the floor an she stood still until the one she was on was floor level then she walked out of the room. She checked her clock for the time and smiled, "Time to go to the market," she thought and then made her way out of the building. When she finally got outside there was the familiar city of her home city all around her.

Not many people were out this early in the day and it wasn't long before she got an emergency notification. Announcing that the Gastonaan had contracted the Xephon Affliction. She stopped for a moment and thought, "It's addressed to Sers but perhaps I should go to assist," she thought and then she made her way to the location given in the message.

Nemesis arrived at the location to see a few Sers were trying to subdue the Gastonaan. Nemesis looked over at a nearby Ser who seemed to be hesitating from the sight she was seeign ((Lieghte)) and walked over to her. "Excuse me Ser, are you in need of assistance? I am cleared to help any representatives of the law if they so ask for it," she said as she stood next to the Ser.

sorry should have been in Des

Shivering iron, clicking against one another. The faint rush of wind, the occasional shudder and it's subsequent tremor. Compromised light reigned, and dozen of voices spoke in chaotic tandem, their owners close together as they laughed and shouted.

"Almost. Oh, yeah, did you bring...?"
A small bump from below. The plated floor jumped lightly and loose bolts shuddered, knocking against their designated positions in an unpronounced chorus. San'taics close to the windows and walls clattered unpleasantly, and the people in their seats swayed with the impact. A girl's white coat was ruffled, but ignored.

"-ourse I did. Chevaeil, here."
An amber lantern passed beyond the window, followed by another, and another, flashing by at regular, rapid intervals. Their glow flickered over her in brief increments, only to be replaced by the inevitable, reigning shadow. Something tugged at her sleeve, and the voices loudened, accenting the distant winds.

"Chevaeil!"
"Hm?"
A sudden radiance tore through the windows: sunlight. It illuminated the confines of the carriage as the machine left the sparsely lit tunnel, it's underbelly gliding almost seamlessly against the iron rails below. Chevaeil, abruptly attentive, gazed wide eyed at the group addressing her; a small gaggle of three who gazed back with expressions of both amusement and disbelief. Their San'taic hovered by their shoulders, with one such creature pinching a small slip of paper between it's fingers. A visitor's pass, apparently for Chevaeil.

"Someone's a million miles away."
"Ha! What's up with you today?"
Chevaeil smiled politely, accepting the document from the San'taic. She slipped it into her bag, and saw that two of her friends did the same.
"Oh, I'm sorry." she apologized. "I'm afraid I dosed off a bit." she explained, chuckling to herself as she turned back to the window. The train had emerged onto a track suspended high into the air, weaving between great behemoths of skyscrapers and rising high over roads. A few carriages away, the conductor - uniformed, with his hands drawing new runes upon the control panel - spoke over the loud speaker. They would be making a stop soon.

"-is not, he... Oh, one second." one of her friends suddenly broke off, regaining Chevaeil's apparently less-than-superb attentions. His San'taic had begun to beep loudly - every other San'taic on the train soon followed suit, followed shortly by a synchronized announcement and a holographic map.

"Attention Ser. Attention Ser. The Gastonaan has contracted the Xephon affliction. All hands are necessary to remove the Taint. I repeat, all hands are necessary to remove the Taint. Respond immediately."

"The Gastonaan?"
The machine came to a stop, sliding open it's doors at the destination. Chevaeil was out the gates before most of her friends had risen from their seats, advancing through the vehicle's cloud of steam and past the crowd, moving as quickly as she could. She was no Ser - definitely not a Ser - but she simply needed to go. It was a magnet for her. She was compelled.

"Eh? H-Hey! Chevaeil! Where are you going, it's dangerous!"

She turned briefly, but only smiled politely before returning to her sprint. The conductor's San'taic was already preparing to take off again, and the doors of the train signaled their closing. Chevaeil apologized half heartedly, and in the same sentence confirmed their suspicions; she would go to see the latest bearer of Xenoph.

It was a beautiful summers day, the sun was hanging in the cloudless sky, things were peaceful and the silence of the afternoon was only broken by the hustling of leaves and the laughter of children. A six year old Mason Grace was running through the woods outside his house, playing tag with his older brothers. He was ‘it’ of course, he was no match for his siblings, but he was happy all the same, oblivious and ignorant of all life’s worries.

“Kids! It’s lunch time, I made lemonade!” Mrs. Grace’s voice echoed throughout the woods, and the three young boys grinned to each other before darting off back home, Mason’s brothers easily outpacing him and disappearing into the trees as he tried to keep up, eager for the lemonade his mother had promised.

When he broke through the treeline and his house came into view, along with his mother standing on the porch, he sprinted over to her. His brothers had already reached her and each held a sandwich and a glass of lemonade, both of which they were thoroughly enjoying. “Can I have some lemonade mum?”

Mason’s mother would look down at her son with the faintest of scowls, “Oh... I’m sorry Mason, there wasn’t enough for you, but I promise you’ll get some next time.” The young boy looked at his two brothers, his prior cheeriness gone, replaced with jealousy and spite. “But that’s what you said last time mum! I never get any lemonade!” Mrs. Grace placed her fists on her hips and glared down at Mason, but when she opened her mouth to speak, no words came out, only a steady beeping noise.


And then Mason opened his eyes.

It was a dream, but now he was awake, alone, and back in Des, in hell. That beeping noise had been his proximity alarm, someone was approaching. Mason had been in the cursed city for several weeks, searching for his lost mother, and even in such a short time frame, the man knew that he was starting to slip, the things that went in Des were depraved and horrid, but nothing Mason couldn’t deal with, no, the issue Mason had was with sleep, with security. He lived on a razors edge here, in constant danger of being killed, either shot by some of the many gangs that infested the city, or torn limb from limb by the poor souls who have been driven insane by the disease. But what Mason feared most, was the disease itself, he kept his full body suit on at all times, only taking it off when he had no other choice.

With a groan Mason pushed himself up, the beeping from the proximity alarm was like a hammer inside his skull and with a curse he hit the silence button on the control pad located on his left wrist. The beeping stopped, and his HUD flickered into life, the dark room he had taken shelter in lighting up as his low-light filter switched on. The motion sensor in his helmet had three blips on it, they were several dozen meters away from his position, and judging from the location they were outside the building, on the street.

Not wasting any time, Mason grabbed his rifle and shouldered his pack before cautiously making his way out of the room and down the stairs to the bottom floor. He had taken refuge in what he figured was some sort of administrative building, as there were filing cabinets and busted computers everywhere. He was thankful for his helmets electronics, or else making his way through the maze like corridors would have fried his nerves even faster. He kept the three blips on his display the entire time, marking their slow progress, and when he finally reached the edge of the building and peered out a window to take a look at the intruders, what he saw horrified him.

It was a middle aged man, with streaks of grey in his hair, and a frightened look in his eyes, he bore no sign of infection, he had no festering wounds or sores, he had no lost limbs or an air of insanity about him. He was all very normal looking, but what horrified Mason were the two young girls who walked beside him. They looked even more frightened then their presumed father, and also had no sign of infection. Mason had never seen another non-infected person in Des before, presumably because they never lasted long, and these were clearly new arrivals, for all three had loaves of bread in their hands.

Mason waited a few moments, double checking to make sure there were no other life signs in the area before he rose from cover and stepped out into the street, he kept his rifle pointed at the ground, but he was ready to bring it up in an instant if need be. While he made his presence known, Mason didn’t speak, he simply stared at the newcomers, his full faced helmet blank and unreadable.

When the man and his daughters spotted Mason they froze, the two girls burying their faces in the man’s legs as he held them close. “Are... Are you infected? You wear a suit, I heard of vigilantes, coming to Des, to help people... I didn’t believe.” He looked down at his daughters, and knelt down to hug them close, whispering to them before he looked up at Mason again. “Please, you have to help us! We’re not infected, my wife... She... She was, b-but she left us! She left, she didn’t want to infect us!” A few tears would run down his face as he begged for help from a man who he saw as his saviour. “Please, the Sers... They took us anyway! Said there were no exceptions! Please you have to help us! Help my daughters, please... I beg of you.”

Mason simply stared at the man, he felt pity well up inside of him, for he knew that this man and his daughters were doomed to the most horrible of fates... A fate so terrible, that Mason wouldn’t allow it to happen. With an inward sigh Mason stepped forward until he was a few feet in front of the man and his children.

“Do you love your daughters?” Mason asked, his voice flat and muffled by his helmet.
The man’s response was wrought with confusion and a tinge of panic creeped into his features. “I... What?”
“Your daughters, do you love them?” Repeated Mason, his voice as firm and unreadable as his mask.

A small pause, then a determined nod of the head. “Of... Of course I love them! They mean the world to me, I’d do anything for them! I’d give me life for them! Please, you have to help them! Forget about me if you want, just get them out of here!” The man’s face was streaked with tears, and one of the girls summoned the nerve to look up at Mason, her eyes bloodshot and glazed, her innocent face stricken with panic and fear, he had never seen a more heart wrenching gaze in his entire life, and Mason quickly focused on the father again.

“I can’t help you, there is no escape from this place.” Mason kept his tone as unemotional as possible, but he had to fight back tears all the same as he pulled out his sidearm and offered it to the man handle first. “But if you love your daughters, you will save them from a fate far worse than death.”
The man’s jaw dropped as he looked at the pistol, and he shook his head, his voice becoming angry and desperate, “No! I won’t! I can’t! These are my daughters! My children! I love them, I love them so much... My wife, she loves them, I... I can’t, please! You’re not infected! You can help us! Please help my daughters! Please!”

More tears, more sorrow, more pain, more suffering... More helplessness, these people had fallen into hell and only Mason knew it. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you, I can only offer mercy.” His words were hushed, barely a whisper and full of regret. The desperate father held his daughters close, muttering words of comfort to his children, but when he looked up again he was staring at the barrel of a gun. “P-plea-...”

Three gunshots rung throughout the deserted city street, and when the deathly silence blanketed the area once again, only Mason would remain standing, his still smoking pistol hanging at his side. “You deserved better than this.” He muttered softly as he put away his weapon and stepped forward, intent on checking the bodies for valuables and to collect their loaves of bread.

But he froze suddenly, a chill running down his spine and a feeling of all consuming dread coming over him. One of the girls had moved, and as Mason watched in horror she pushed herself up and looked at him, she had a clean bullet hole in her forehead, blood still flowing freely, drenching her face. She had the most pained and shocked look on her face as she turned to her dead family. “D-dad... Dad? Sister...” With tiny hands she took her dad by the arm and shook him in a futile gesture, “Daddy! Wake up! Please wake up! My head... My head hurts... Daddy! W-wake... Wake up!” She burst into tears and started to cry, her pain filled wails echoing throughout the street as she continued to shake her dead father.

Mason felt his chest constrict, his hands started to shake and he felt an all consuming panic start to overwhelm him as he stared at the infected girl as she tried desperately to wake her father and sister, both of which he himself had killed. Overcome with grief, fear, panic, horror and at a complete loss for what to do, Mason Grace turned and ran, for what felt like hours he ran, but he knew that no matter how fast, or how far ran, the face of that little girl would never leave him.

This was Des, this was hell, and Mason had come here by choice.

The fighting had been a red light of warning to the young man wearing a baggy winter hat, hugging low around his eyes to give off the air of anonymity. By the side of the alleyway, he appeared to flinch back as the Ser pushed past him into the small opening between the buildings. Suddenly, the man's San' taic went off, announcing the emergency and state of the Ser- as well as Xephon. Shaking his head slightly, he tapped the device once, revealing a small keypad which he typed the seven-digit pass code into.

A faint hum was heard, and a distorted voice could be heard over the line. "Have you heard? The Gastonaan himself caught this bug we've been hearing about. Top of the top."

"Yes. My San'taic went off too. Those he commanded now turning against him without a second thought. Are you trying to imply something?"

"N-no! Because of you... well... even if you did catch this thing we wouldn't take off on ya."

"I see. Well, what was the point of this conversation?"

"Just wanted to know if you had any plans for this."

"Hmmm. The fall of the Gastonaan will provide us with a good opportunity. Chaos is what we needed."

"I'll leave ya to it if there aren't any orders for me, Boss."

"Just keep the pretense of an interested civilian. Information of any kind will be helpful."

A clicking sound was heard, and the man sighed, putting the San'taic away after wiping the memory. "Well, time to get going." He said, his face completely changing from serious and bloodless, to flushed and excited. He entered a small civilian building, climbing to the top and observing from a nearby rooftop. In this area, the Boss had control. He could move to and fro without much resistance.

The web connection to all the San'taic was raging with the most recent topic for discussion- the Gastonaan. It was time to take advantage of the confusion.

Looks like even the authorities aren't safe.

I don't want to get sent away.

And I thought this was just some sort of conspiracy...

What's going to happen? How come nobody is working on a cure?

The information flowed at one's fingertips. Rumors melting with Truth to form a cloud of uncertainty. From one man's point of view, it was certainly the perfect opportunity to strengthen his hold. Perhaps not through the more traditional means of rounding the people into rebellion against the 'slow' governing force, but a more subtle method. Contact lists appeared out of his San'taic.

"QUERY: WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO, BOSS?" The machine uttered in a mechanical, halting speech.

"Nothing too far out of the ordinary. This will be a great moment to stock up while security is lax."

"CONFIRMING RESPONSE: YOU WILL BE CONTACTING THE INNER CIRCLE?"

"Of course."

A quick window of chat popped up. The recipient's avatar was a cartoony black wolf. Quick jabs of one-liners shot back and forth between the two, and then the chat was closed.

"ASSERTIVE ASSUMPTION: YOU WISH ME TO SEND JACKSON TO MEET THE CLIENT?"

"Yes. Please."

Outskirts of Pandora [386-AR]

The single rustic man, who walked down a narrow and winding path down to his cottage in a small hamlet on the outskirts of the towering city of Pandora, had only once before experienced an event which he could appropriately label as being a awe-inspiring, religious experience. Yet, as Abelard walked slowly down the path, the only sound that of the planet around him, twilight beginning to cloak the world in the myriad baths of the seven moons, he could swear there would be a time when he could call back to this experience, and label it just that. A single sphere in the sky called to him, not unlike a siren song, while he made his slow pace along the road. A single, bright and vivid orange disc called out to his gaze, and met back with its own blue stare. The man shuddered as he gazed up at Ipaidu, their sights locked against one another as Abelard stood stock still in his journey back home.

"A tempest?" The man's lips barely moved as he whispered.

Pandora [385-AR]

Almost exactly a year before, on the other side of the day, Abelard had awoken with a start in a cold sweat. Against the otherwise cool sheets of his bed, situated in the small apartment he rented in a calm section of Pandora, the sensation was eerie. The man's face was a mask, drawn lips in a deep frown and eyes staring forward. He stared against the window, down at the city before him, his reflection marred with the multiple buildings and bustling of people in the sprawling metropolis. Fingers gripped the sheets with unnatural strength, aided by the solid pumping of blood within the man's body.

What was he waiting for?

A soft ring intruded his reverie with a start, his tired eyes snapping to a communication panel inset to a wall. There was a moment where Abelard blinked, unmoving, simply gazing at the panel as it let out its soft, beckoning rings. A tremulous sigh escaped his lips, and he tore the sheets from his form, standing to walk over to the device. Steps staggered none, feet finding the most direct path to the flashing screen, and fingers instantly pressed the 'Call' button.

"Abelard," rang out a female voice. "Abelard, I-- are you there, Abelard?"

He couldn't respond for a moment, a lump caught in his throat, the cool sweat still damp on his skin.

"Y-yes," he responded, a dull croak.

"Oh, Abelard, Abelard, thank Phisto you're still here," there was relief. "Abelard, I...Abelard."

The man didn't break into her rambling words, didn't comment on how she repeated his name over and over. He wanted to postpone this news, to keep it from reaching his ears as long as he possibly could. That deep, gnawing sensation in his stomach stayed dormant for as long as the words didn't reach his ears.

How he wished he could freeze that moment, and never go forward.

"Abelard, it's about Pierre. He's-- I don't know why--"

"He's missing, isn't he," the man responded, hushed.

There was silence on the other end. There was a brief understanding between the two.

"Yes, his bed is empty," a flat statement.

"So is mine," replied Abelard, "but I am not gone, yet."

Outskirts of Pandora [386-AR]

He stood still as stone, staring at Ipaidu. First, the earth had shook, and then people suddenly wrested from their homes. The blue gaze that collided with his filled him with a discomforting certainty, even as he resumed his slow pace along the path. Once more, Abelard felt a cold sweat bead on his skin, despite the pleasant temperatures of his dusk journey. Even as he reached the door to his cottage, the familiar and calming sensations of his own crafted maig reaching his skin, it did not breach him.

Before he opened his door, Abelard paused. The moon of storms stared at his back, and the man pulled his cap down over his forehead, crossed his arm over his chest as he pushed open the door.

No, I am absolutely comfortable here. Abelard thought, I am absolutely comfortable.

His chest rose and fell steadily, like the pace of a slightly off beat clock, and Alex wondered, not for the first time, if that rise and fall was really Necessary. When he first came to this place he would have been 99% sure that it was as knowing that oxygen was needed to live was something that came naturally to all living creatures. Yet now he was almost certain that it wasn't necessary for his life, for he was not sure if he was a living creature any more. If he could be starved or food and still be alive after all these years then he was pretty certain that a little O2 deprivation wouldn't hurt. Would it? The boy sighed, his eyes remained closed but he was quite alert, listening for the moment when his brother would wake and then true hell would take hold.

This, he thought, was not hell. This he could bare. The scream of his shoulder and the constant ache of his knuckle, bruised from a long distant fight, the growl of his empty stomach and the sear of his parched throat was nothing compared to how he felt when Marcel was awake. This was physical madness, Marcel was the one driving him mentally insane. Sure enough though, not long after Alex had woken, he could hear the low moans of his brother from the bed a few feet across the room from his own. Alex kept his eyes closed, wanting to feign sleep a little longer as Marcel moaned again. Then he rasped Alex's name and Alex felt his whole body tighten. No one else would know that the man was speaking, but Alex had been around him so long that such incoherent noises made sense to him.

After a few more pitiful gasps and grating growls of speech Alex opened his eyes and pushed himself up, his brow sweating profusely as his fever shifted and pounded. "I am awake brother." his voice did not rasp like Marcel's, he barely noticed that first when he shifted his concentration to the man across the room. He had pushed himself up, his back against the wall. He was a grotesque man. So thin that he barely had fat on him, his skin so sallow it was like wax as it stretched across his bones. His eyes seemed sunken into his skull, great black bags beneath them. His lips were stripped of skin as he had bitten it away and his hair was there in clumps as he had pulled it out. "How did you sleep?" Alex's eyes shone with concern, Marcel looked worse this morning, his bags seemed darker.

More rasps and grating gasps told Alex that his brother had been having the nightmares again. "I screamed. But you did not hear me, I was alone." the words haunted Alex and he found that he could not look at Marcel. He stood then, pulling his cover away from him as he crossed the room and knelt by Marcel's bed. Reaching out he took one of the man's clammy hands.

"Will you come out of here with me today?" Alex asked, his eyes wide and begging. Marcel pulled his hand back suddenly, wincing and claiming that Alex had held it too hard. Alex had barely touched it. "Just for a little while, I'll get your wheel chair shall I?" Marcel shook his head, recoiling into the corner, he stroked his apparently hurt hand. Alex suddenly felt slightly angry, his temper rising a little, Marcel was so difficult these days. Getting worse every day. Alex stood again, looking down at the shape of his brother in the corner. "Can I get you anything?" Food, water, that was all he ever wanted. He used to ask for books or a pack of cards to play with whilst he sat in solitude. Now Alex just had to leave him to his own thoughts. Which many warned was dangerous. But what else could he do? All said that there was nothing he could do. So Alex made his way out of the dingy room and into one of the halls of the underground community he was a part off. It was lit dimly but he could hear noises coming from the end. He headed towards that noise, wishing that Marcel was with him to share the slight relief that came with spending time with those he could call friends.

The beam of energy shot forth from the welder attached to Frederick's spectacles towards the chip on his desk, carefully guided by his steady hand, the magnifying glass in front of the real lens helping him with his precision. Circe floated around his head, making excited beeps and gesturing wildly with its manipulator claws. It was obvious the machine was as excited by Frederick's project as he was, though he didn't show it as much as his San'taic did. Giving it manipulator arms had only seemed to increase the machine's easily excitable personality, not decrease it as he had hoped. He still hadn't figured out why it was like this (some San'taics developed personality quirks while others did not) but he liked it all the same; it gave him a way to differentiate the machine from the others beyond its physical appearance.

He clicked a finger on the button beside the welder that had popped out of the spectacles, causing the beam to stop and for the welder to retract back into the glasses along with the magnifying glass. The chip finally looked finished, though if it worked was another matter entirely. The circuitry itself should work, though whether it was enough was a question still left unanswered. "Time for the moment of Truth. Circe, get the flame extinguisher from the wall and get ready. Make sure to douse the flame if any appears; I'm not sure if this one will work or not." Grabbing an ink brush and dipping it into the special ink, he carefully began painting the appropriate rune on the chip.

The rune was the symbol for heat, and was used all over Pandora to instantly heat water for cooking. If the chip worked it would prevent the rune from activating, instead siphoning off the energy to be used later. The best part about this proposed idea was that as far as he knew, runes were constantly sent maig until they were activated, so as long as whatever machine with the chip used the power from the chip and not the rune, it could allow for a rune's abilities to be used more than once. It would be a major breakthrough in Maig technologies, if only he could get it to work properly. So far, every attempt had ended in failure, but he was confident this would work.

He finished the symbol, and crossed his fingers the circuitry would work properly. The rune glowed, and then suddenly the chip burst into flame, causing Circe to beep wildly and spray fire retardant foam all over his work bench; he'd really have to work on Circe's control but at the moment he was seething with rage. Fumbling for the chip through the foam, he angrily tossed it into the incinerator beside him embedded in the wall. This was the 20th such failure in a week, and yet Frederick was no close to solving the mystery then he was before.

"DAMMNIT!" he screamed, filled with rage "Why won't this work?! I've tried every kind of circuitry and still this doesn't work! There must be something I'm missing but what could it possibly be?!" He rested his hands on the wooden desk as his mind tried to think of a way to fix the dilemma. However as he was thinking, Circe made a series of beeps before relaying a message saying that the Gastonaan had come down with Xephon and asking for Sers to come and subdue him. His mind was shocked for a few minutes before he put a hand to his head and said in shock "The Gastonaan...Phisto's will, this is serious." Suddenly a little lightbulb lit up in his head "Perhaps the Ser are using runes not known to the public; maybe I can study their technique. Come on Circe, show me where the signal originated from." Circe beeped in agreement and showed a holographic map with the signal a red dot and Circe a blue dot. "Alright Circe, now take me there." Another beep of agreement and the two of them were off, running (or floating in Circe's case) as fast as they could to the scene.

Effy sighed and took a sip of the drink placed in front of her. She made a face after realizing the flavor was not at all to her taste. Not that she had been expecting a gourmet treat. The bar she was in was in the seedier part of town, and her fellow patrons did nothing to improve the feel of the dilapidated building. There was a shady-looking man in the corner, muttering something unintelligible into a tiny orb he held in front of his mouth. Two tables down, a raggedy old woman sat, shooting Effy dirty looks periodically. And behind her, Effy knew there was a hooded patron sitting. She had seen him when she walked in, and now she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being stared at.

Setting down the cup, she sighed and pulled out a plain notebook and a pen.

"ERROR. ERROR," piped up the small orb that had been set on the table. "UN. NECCESary. I WILL. record."

"Oh shut up," snapped Effy. "You told me that before, and then you went and lost everything I told you!"

"NEG. ATIVE," responded the San`taic. "I AM. INFallible..."

Then it shut off completely.

Effy muttered something about 'leaving the stupid thing where she found it' before returning to her notebook. A good quarter of it was already filled. She opened to a new page and started jotting down notes.

"Now le'see," she said, speaking aloud to herself. "I've looked around all the far western end of the city, so I guess I should move into-"

"wrONG. WRONG." The tiny San`taic suddenly turned back on. "IN. CORRECT. STUPID-"

"What did you just call me?!"

"WEST END. not. SEARCHED THOROUGHLY..."

"Well it's kind of difficult to keep track of it all without a map!" Effy retorted, mildly offended.

"HA. hahaha. HAha. STUPID. COUNTRY BUMpkin-"

"Why you little-!"

"UP. LOADING MAP. OF PAND. dora. ...COMpleted."

Amazed at the technology, Effy smiled at the little orb. "That was mighty fast!"

"COM. PLETED. 1 PERCENT."

Effy let out a groan of exasperation, and in frustration, knocked the San`taic off the table, where it landed with a thud and shut off. A small piece of metal fell off the already broken machine, letting a few stray wires stick out.

"Oh, dangit! Shoot! I didn't mean to do that!" she cried, rushing out of her seat to try and fix the damage. She hastily shoved the wires back in and jammed the piece of metal over top.

The San`taic suddenly lit back to life, but, to Effy's surprise, began to glow red, rather than the usual pleasant yellow.

"EMERGENCY BROADCAST. EMErgency... GastonAAN. AFFLIC. TED. REPEAT. GASTON. aaaaaaaaaaan..."

Effy gaped, completely lost for words. "Oh dammnit! You are really broken. You're speakin' complete nonsense!"

The old woman two tables across snorted. "Idiot girl. Your San`taic is trying to tell you that the Gastonaan has been afflicted with the Xephon virus."

Effy stared at the woman. "Gastoneen? Xe-what?"

The woman let out a high-pitched laugh. "Your San`taic is right. You really are a country bumpkin."

Effy opened her mouth in anger, but had the presence of mind to close it almost right away. She was curious, and didn't want to anger someone who could provide her with information.

"Well," said the woman, her face breaking into a crooked smile, "Why don't you go see what's happening?"

"I- er..."

"Oh go on, I'm sure you'll learn a lot. Besides, its happening not far from here. Your San`taic will tell you where to go."

"Um. Well, thank you ma'am," Effy said, giving the woman a sort of mock-curtsy with a nod of her head. She stuffed her notebook in her back pocket, grabbed her favorite motorcycle helmet from the back of her chair, and headed out the bar door, her San`taic in tow. Effy felt a shiver of fear upon reaching the street, for she had been sure that, just before the bar door closed, she heard the old woman laughing.

"You have to leave. Now."

The deep voice came from a man, dressed in military garb and some odd sort of biochemical containment suit, bursting in on their family breakfast with his loud words and his gun, pointed straight at the grouping of people who were crowded around the breakfast table, not even considering the fact that something could happen to them, not even thinking that in a few moments their life was going to be ruined once more, and this time by an utter stranger.. Her father, an older man, stepped up and forward, towards that oddly clade stranger, his head held high, his shoulders back, his thick, muscular form strong.

"What are you doing in my house?!"

The stranger jabbed at her father with his gun, speaking words that the child could not understand, although key phrases flashes through her mind.

Mother, infected, leave, Des.

Lena did not understand those strange words, but her father must have, because he jerked his strong arm around, showing that small family, that abonded family of three.

"She left us, she's gone, none of us are infected, we are not, you can't just--"

Her father was cut off by the man, shoving his gun into his ribs and cutting off his air supply. A few other men came in, dressed in the same garb, and Lena's Sister, Cassie, grabbed onto her, pulling her back and away from her food. Lena blinked somewhat, letting out a sharp cry.

"Father!"

"You have to leave now" " Just let us get oyur stu--" " We have it all, now go."

Lina was struggling to continue to walk along the outskirts of this city; this place called Des that she had never ever before heard of. before, but it was not that stupid to think so. It seemed like no one, not even her father or older sister, knew of the place, it was obvious to the girl by the blank looks upon their face as they peered around, with wide eyes and stupefied looks upon their features. Lena's hand was clenching a ragged stuffed lion, the thing tucked beneath one of her arms as her father continued to cry out, yelling with pitiful pleas for help and other such things. The male should have known that it was useless to cry out but it was not, in his eyes, useless.

Lena clenched her bread in her other hand. She still remembered the Soldiers talking to them, telling them about how important that single thing was- more important than each other, even. She had thought it silly that such a thing, food which was plentiful to them, would be more important than her father and older sister but, as they were dropped off she realized that this place, this 'Des' place, did not have food..And it did not look as if they could make anything to eat, the ground was icky, the soil rough, dry.

Lena drew close to her father, another strangely dressed man coming into their view. Her blue eyes were narrowed in distrust for a moment, and then her father started to speak to this man- he asked of help, he begged for it. Obviously this man must be a good man, for her father would not ask help of him otherwise, would he? Lena was so confused, even more confused when the man started to question her father's love for them!Lena wanted to yell and rail at this scary male, but allowed for her father to speak instead. At the mention of shooting them, Lena let out a distressed squeak, but was calmed as her father spoke more of those strange words, using that infected one once more. And the man, that strange man in that odd outfit- he was crying! Why was he crying?

Lena's eyebrows drew together, and that would be the lost moment the red-headed, nine year old girl would know what a life was like without the constant pain the infected had, the pain that would one day drive that small form into madness. A few moments later a horrible agony invaded the girl and she fell backwards, temporarily paralyzed by such a pain.

Moments went by and still the pain did not seis, but the suddenness of it seemed to fade, as if the simple fact that it was not going to go away within those few seconds that it had continued to stay had made the pain less horrible. That's when, of course, Lena sat up, a low whimper of pain slipping from her mouth. There was red liquid invading her vision, making it hard for the child to see, and of course, being a nine year old, she turned to her father to wonder what was happening.

"Daddy, dad my head h-hurt, it hurts r-really bad!

The child started, scaring that weird man who was about to reach for her food, but had not. He ran, instead, leaving Lena sitting there, staring at the dead corpse of her father and her older sister. A sharp cry fell from the girl's throat as she pushed herself up, fingers still clenched around her bread and her stuffed lion whilst her blue eyes feasted upon the horror that lay before her, resting upon the ground, a testimony to the cruelty of Des.

"Father! SISTER!"

The child screamed, her high pitched voice echoing in the near-silence. She stopped, that agony that invaded her every thought so far brought to the forefront by her quick scream as she stumbled backwards in disgust, a sob catching within her throat. A scream, the sound haunting, pitiful, exited her mouth as she fell over and onto her ass, the muted pain of a bruised tail-bone suddenly joining the agony that rippled through her brain, that forced more of that red sea down and over her face, into her blue orbs.

"No! NO! Why won't he wake up?! NO!"

The child continued to scream, uselessly, sobbing over her dead family members...

The people of Des wouldn't care that she was nine.

They were insane.

She would soon be insane.

"Bullshit." Esta proclaimed triumphantly as she reached for the pile of cards and flipped the top three over. "Three eights was it Maz?" she narrowed her eyes at the much younger boy who sat across from her as his grey cheeks darkened slightly and he reached out to take the cards with a torn hand. Alex knew the story of those hands, much older man had clawed them in an attempt to get him to go with them, then of course Esta had saved him. They all had their stories, these people. All of them had their demons as well. Some were hidden for now, others running rampant, but all would be sorted in the end and all would be painful. Everything hurt in this world.

"Two sevens." Alex slapped down two cards and dared anyone to go against his word with a quick flash around the group of five. He sat between Esta and Maz, so it was Esta's go next. Beside Esta sat a girl with wide blue eyes and hair that was so fiery that it contrasted greatly with her sallow skin. Alex thought her the best looking girl in the community, when living amongst people like these you had to lower standards to grey skin and tortured expressions. However, Ginger, as everyone called her, held no expression in her eyes. As far as he could tell she'd taken good care of herself and she'd been here longer than him. She just looked sick, which was a thousand times better than any of them could hope to look.

After Esta's declaration of a crazy five fives, which no one dared to go against as the old woman was losing her rag and wouldn't think twice about clouting a protester leaving an ever lasting ring in his ear, Ginger slapped down three six's. "Bullshit." Alex snapped, leaning in to flick over the cards as Ginger slammed her hands on top of them. Her eyes met Alex's.

"Excuse me Mr. Rose?" she asked sweetly, better men would have flailed under such a look, "But you might want to rethink your claim."

Alex gave a lopsided grin, "What are you trying to hide Ginger?" for a moment they just stared at each other, then a ruckus from across the hall made them start. The small group of card players looked around to where an old timer, Elvi, was shouting and hollering about something. There was a look in her eyes that they all recognized. Madness. Alex turned his head away as soon as he saw it, knowing that it mimicked that of Marcel's. A great weight seemed to land in his stomach as pure rage solidified around his heart. He stood up. Ginger said his name, a single worried gasp, but he did not hear it as he approached Elvi. Her white hair was mad about her head and her left fist raised, she held a knife that looked blunt but Alex knew that it could still do some damage. There were murmurs about him, in the long underground hall many 'downworlders' had gathered when the shouts had started, talking of sending her 'up top'. These angered Alex further, there would be no loyalty here. Not for Elvi who had probably raised most of these young men.

"He's here!" Elvi shouted, again and again. "The Good Man, he comes for me and ye."

Alex had heard Elvi's shouts before, but not like this, never with a knife in her hand and madness in her eyes. She believed that her dreams told the future but none had ever believed it. Not ever. This was why there was talk of sending her away, and now she was threatening to hurt people, she'd be gone soon enough. It was like the underworld of Des had adopted the workings of Pandora. Instead of trying to help they just sent people away to a far worse place. Underworld was bad, but up top with the crazies. That was worse. This was why everyone thought that most of those who lived in Des were crazy becuase of this system. He wondered if any knew that there was more to Des than what met the eye. Alex moved forward before anyone else could, before the roughies could hurt her as they bundled her up top, his hands raised in surrender. "Elvi." he said her name softly and she looked to him. She'd looked after him once too and she seemed to recognise him now.

"He's coming Alli, or it, it or he they are both the same. Listen to me Alli."

"I'm listening El," He promised, "But i'd feel more comfortable with that knife on the floor." she looked at the knife then, and laughed a high witches cackle.

"I can't fight without it Alli."

"Who are you fighting?" he asked, the old frail looking woman seemed to laugh at that as well.

"Him, it, both the same they are." She shuffled closer and Alex could smell urine and decay wafting off of her. "Them." she whispered harsh in his ear, her eyes darting over his shoulder to point out the people of Des's underworld. She seemed unaware that she spoke loud enough for them to hear. "We have to stop 'em Alli. They want to do bad things, a Good Man, he'll bring the end, we're the plague, stay away Alli." that was when she was stopped, two men Alex had not seen creeping up on them bundled her to the floor, she screamed and choked as they crushed her. "They bring the end, it, the Good Man, him, she, all the same!" she stabbed the back of one of the men over and over, still screaming her warning. A warning that fell on seemingly deaf ears. Alex felt himself pulled back as a few more of the 'roughies' streamed forward to lift Elvi and take her away. Alex felt an older man clap him on the back and a few more congratulated him for distracting her. Alex felt each congratulation hit him like a knife to the chest, and like all wounds in Des they'd sting forever.

Des [386-AR]

Three reports. No screams. He watched in silence, eyes still bleary from being awoken in the midst of his sleep. His head ached. He hadn't slept for days. He blinked. Once. Twice. The third time his vision cleared and he crept towards the broken window beneath which he had fallen asleep, its teeth forever frozen in a shattered grimace. Three bodies. Two children. A man stood over them all. He rubbed his eyes for clarity. A suit - uninfected. He could make out the wisps of smoke rising from the barrel of the pistol, still hear the shots ringing through the empty streets. Loud. Too Loud. They would have- The girl sat up. He couldn't make out her words, just the shrill pitch of her voice as she took in the horrors of her murdered family lying beside her in the street, bodies twisted against each other. The man ran as though Saxe himself were on his heels.

Silvos lingered a moment longer, torn between the last dregs of humanity sitting in his fractured soul or just accepting the depravity of what he had witnessed and slotting it away with countless other memories, knowing that he could sleep easy tonight even if it would haunt him for the rest of his life afterwards. She was already dead after all. Technically.

Des [385-AR]

Tiny droplets spatter his glasses. Ice cold they roll onto his cheeks and streak down his face like tears until they nestle, glistening, in the shadow of hair lingering on his face. Dim light from a paper-fire illuminates his surroundings, the flickering light stretching shadows hauntingly across his vision. More ghouls set on mocking him. From the roof of the building he could see the street below, though darkness swallowed much of it. Aside from the steady patter of rain nothing broke the eerie silence around him save his own slow breathing. By now he was soaked through, clothes clinging desperately to his goose-pimpled flesh like the maws of some incessantly annoying lover. A bitter smile crossed his face. A handsome smile. His eyes blistered above them, piercing the haze before him. One hand lay gently on his bicep, fingertips gently caressing the rises of ink that formed the tattoo of a young girl. With a forlorn sigh he stood, leaks protesting at his sudden demand for movement long after they had given up the ghost and slipped into the gentle slumber that appeared to have swept over the streets of Des.

It didn't take him long to head down into one of the rooms below. The building was tall - offices perhaps, full of desks. He changed quickly, mechanically into dry clothes and discarded his old apparel without a second thought. He scooped up his bag and shouldered it, the familiarity of its weight both a comfort and a remainder of how long he had been unsuccessfully searching Des.

"She's has to be here..." the words were little more than a whisper, but he had already drawn his pistol before the final word had formed in the air around him. He took him three tense seconds to realise it was he who had spoken. How long had it been since he had spoken aloud? Too long- The window smashed, glass clattering to the ground and wind and rain pouring into the room. He stumbled back, took surprised to do anything else. He blinked again. The window was fine. Muttering darkly beneath his breath he turned, feet crunching the glass beneath his worn boots. He didn't realise that the glass beneath his boots did not crunch.

Des [386-AR]

His foot hit the bottom step at the same time as the girls final shrill scream splintered- The floor wasn't there and instead he tumbled, free-falling until his face broke his fall against the sandy shores of the beach. Warm water rolled over his outstretched fingertips, foam gently frolicking around them laying tender kisses against the calloused skin- He caught his balance just before he missed the final step and continued on without missing a beat. The scream had yet to ease. It stretched on endlessly, deafeningly. She would attract attention soon. He hesitated before opening- he clenched his hand slowly as the foam encircled his palm, joints creaking painfully. He realised his head was stinging and he sat up slowly, blinking against the blinding light that seared his- door. He blinked. He could have sworn his eyes were stinging. For a moment he clenched and opened his hand, the feel of warm water lingering on despite- no, no time for that now. He clasped the door handle in one hand and tugged it open. The creak of its rusted hinges was drowned out by the girls wails. He stepped into Hell once again.

He approached the girl from behind, careful to keep silent just like when he tracked prey- eyes. With great effort he turned his head aside and clambered unsteadily to his feet. The sea stretched out before him, a great empty void of azure with a crimson horizon glistening- in the forests. Slowly he circled around so she could see him as he approached. He kept one hand on the pistol tucked into his belt. His eyes, glowing emerald scanned the impervious darkness of the street until the locked onto the young girls face. Not her. His shoulders sunk a little, defeated. Something made a noise down the street.

"Shut up will-" there was a pause as he registered the unused growl of his voice. "-you before I put a bullet in your throat." Shit, now she would panic. "I'm gunna help you just-" Blood seeped out of the fresh wound on her forehead and it cut him off for just a second as he stared into the gaping abyss. His eyes fell to hers and he continued his flow, unshaken. "-stop screaming. They're coming." It registered that the mask he wore might have been the cause of his muffled voice, rather than its disuse. And he also realised that he had nicked his gloves on the window. But it was too late now. "Follow me." He didn't move to touch her and instead headed directly past her, carelessly treading on the lifeless hand of her father in the process. He barely noticed, he attention focused on shouldering open the door before him. it gave way under his weight and revealed the dusty remnants of a restaurant. He paused in the shadows of the doorway, eyes glinting faintly as he looked back over his shoulder at the crying child. Shit, he should have left her.

"Please."

Outskirts of Pandora [386-AR]

"Well, that certainly is an interesting rumor," muttered Abelard.

It had been naught but two days since his oddly weighty night with Ipaidu, and already he was sitting outside in his garden, listening to a stranger ramble on about...well, Abelard could really only guess. Wild words, rushing out between his lips with little air between them, desperately explaining a situation that washed by the gardening Nomme. There had been no small amount of distress in his companion's voice before he struck a match, filling the air, briefly, with a small wisp of smoke. The entire affair was completed without a single glance toward the other individual.

"Though, if I believed every rumor," he pushed the pipe to the side of his mouth, "I probably would assume that the apocalypse is coming, and we're all about to be eaten by Phisto himself."

His speaking companion shook his head wildly as Abelard puffed at the pipe, his other hand pushing a trowel into the dirt casually. Where was this man's sense of urgency, his realization toward the gravity of the situation? At least he could look at the man, while he was waving his arms animatedly as he recounted the 'rumor'. Certainly, there were some in Pandora with the gift of gab.

"I'm telling you, it's true!" The man let out a long sigh, "I received a message on my San `taic, other people did too! I don't know exactly what happened, but it's nothing good, nothing good could come from it!"

Abelard pushed the trowel into the ground, his hand moving up to cover his forehead and wipe off a bit of sweat.

"Well, if what you say is true," he grunted, standing, "things might be a little hectic for awhile."

"What do you mean?"

Abelard clapped a hand on his companion's shoulder, offering a small smile.

"Politics is like gardening; sometimes plants grow too close together, and they have to compete for sunlight."

The other man shook his head, "How the hell can you be so calm during this?"

Abelard patted the man's shoulder once more, and then walked past him, still puffing on his pipe. Though he tried to speak comforting words, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that his recent experience was far too uncannily attached to the current events. Even so, there was a tone of good humor as he walked back toward his door.

"It's been awhile," he called back, "and I'm glad you've come to tell me about this. But..."

Abelard turned around, shrugging and shaking his head.

"If you expected me to get excited, I'm afraid I'll have to be disappointing. Besides, Pandora is Pandora, and we're a little removed from the city right now."

It was the man's turn to shake his head, "I don't know what happened, Abelard, but something's different. Look, you may be Nomme now, but it's just a matter of time before this escalates. There's already panic in the city, it's going to spread here too."

Abelard pulled his cap down, he placed his arm over his chest, and he leaned back against the door.

"I am perfectly comfortable here; I have my garden, and my cottage."

The man stared at Abelard for a moment, then scoffed and turned on his heel, walking down the path away from the domicile. Looking up below the brim of his cap, Abelard watched his companion's back as he walked away, stiff and glaring forward. Even he saw something that completely missed Abelard's appraisal.

The gardener screwed his lips up against the pipe, stepping away from the door, with a turn, and then opening it, walking inside and shifting past furniture in the cozy space. Abelard sighed when he reached his objective, a safe in the corner with a combination keypad. Tapping the code into the pad quickly, he pulled the door open and looked inside.

His deactivated San `taic stared back, a large, spheric eye which saw what Abelard, until now, could not.

Perfectly comfortable..., Abelard thought, ...what a lie that is.

Nemesis followed the Ser into the building to see the ex-Gastonaan screaming in a fury of pain and anger.There were a few more Sers littered around the room, five all together so far. The woman Ser who Nemesis had just spoken with, two Sers in a back right corner with their guns aimed at the Gastonaan, one to the back left corner, and the last two were to Nemesis' immediate right, one of which was getting up from being knocked down. The room all together was a mess now, and there was a clear path of damage showing where the fight had started and the course it took to get where it was now. Nemesis took a moment to analyze the situation and set her target objective to neutralizing the ex-Gastonaan. Then heard the woman Ser next to her tell her to prepare to engage.

"Confirmed," Nemesis responded. On the inside of her eye she saw a list of weapons scrolling down in front of her but merely stopped that program and set herself to engage in hand to hand combat. In different danger alerts her restrictions may have been lifted allowing this to be quick simple work but that wasn't the case here. She locked onto the ex-Gastonaan and said to the Ser woman next to her, "It appears as though your comrades cannot get close enough to disarm the Gastonaan. I suggest that you or myself engage in hand to hand combat to disarm him while the other tries to neutralize him via a sleeping agent or blunt force trauma to the back of the head or neck. My current output capacity is limited to thirty percent but I would prefer that I engage him," she explained in a quick and orderly fashion.

The ex-Gastonaan let out a cry of rage and agony and one of the two Sers in the back right corner fired a shot at the now Xephon infected man who dodged out of the way as Nemesis had to as the bolt of maig ammunition passed by her head as well. "These Sers do not realize that they are in a circle and while the ex-Gastonaan can fire in any direction towards a target, if they miss him they endanger a comrade. Their judgment is possibly clouded by the emotional stress of having to fight against one so close to them," Nemesis stated. The ex-Gastonaan turned and aimed his weapon at the Ser who had just fired at him and prepared to fire. Nemesis ran forward and pushed the ex-Gastonaan's weapon to the side causing the shot to barely miss the Sers.

The ex-Gastonaan swung around and tried to hit Nemesis with the butt of his rifle but she ducked out of the way of his swipe and swept her leg out in a sweeping motion herself, knocking his legs out from under him. He fell but recovered as quickly as Nemesis did. he quickly shot his gun, almost at point blank, at Nemesis' head. She moved her head out of the way just enough to where the blast merely left a scratch on her face. He struck out at her again and she jumped back, when she landed she charged forward and then purposefully moved to the side of the ex-Gastonaan, blinded with rage. had he been in his normal state of mind thirty percent may not have been enough. The man swung his arm out about to aim it at Nemesis, she caught his arm and locked it between hers, one shot was fired then another, all useless since she was impossible to hit in this position. She was mildly surprised that the man could fire his rifle at all. She slide out on his arm, grabbed his rifle, then ripped it out of his grasp and threw it to the feet of the Ser she had come in with all in one fluid motion.

This was the first time ever Nemesis had fought outside of the testing ground. The first time her operations were viewed by someone other than a lab official. Normally she just chased down thieves and intimidated them with a pistol, but this was much different. This was fulfilling her purpose as the current ultimate weapon, while gathering many statistics and information she couldn't help but feel a little fulfilled at the fact that she was finally being used for the purpose she was created for.

The ex-Gastonaan went to strike Nemesis, they locked hands with their left then their right and Nemesis plainly looked forward into the ex-Gastonaan's eyes, blinded with pain, rage, and hate she knew he couldn't see anyone around him in a sense. She jumped back letting the man stumble to his knees, in that moment on of the other Sers went to charge him but simply got knocked back by a powerful blow. Nemesis looked at the woman Ser she had come in with and said, "We must end this quickly before the public starts to respond from the message announced by that machine. I am not permitted to use this on military personal but in this situation I can provide it to you to use. I understand you cannot get a clear shot with your rifle with all the moving around but if you get close enough to him with this, even if I have him held into place, please use it to stop him," she explained as a small special edition taser formed from her left forearm. She handed it to the Ser woman and added, "It is not powerful enough to severely damage me but it will knock out the ex-Gastonaan." With that said she went back to engage the ex-Gastonaan in hand to hand combat.

"Gawd. Why'da boss gotta' tell me ta' do it?" Grumbled a young man in his late teens. He donned a black rain jacket, slightly over-sized blue jeans, and wore a baseball cap on his head. Two others flanked him, one an adult possibly ten years older and the other a long-haired woman with a bounce in her step. Cursing harmlessly about his boss, he proceeded to the inner city of Pandora, not too far from where he always was hanging out. The man and the woman behind him conversed quietly, so not to arouse suspicion and included the teenage man occasionally.

They stopped in front of a small building, plain in almost every way save for the fact that one of the windows facing the alleyway was tinted so nobody could look into it. Knocking on the door, the young man tapped out a quick rhythm. The door was opened by a smoking old man. "Hullo, Jackson. Come to pick up the goods early? Knew the Boss would take advantage of this..." He greeted. Jackson sighed.

"Yep. Where is it?" He asked, taking his right hand and scratching the back of his neck.

"The second room. Just came in too, luckily."

Within minutes, all three exited the building with an armful of crates. A white transport showed up, and the cargo doors opened up automatically. The crates were stored in the transport, Jackson smacking the side of the vehicle as they were finished. The doors closed themselves, and the transport puffed away.

"I don't know why you complain so much, Jackson. That was hardly any time out of your life." The woman noted.

"Shut up." Jackson said dismissively, continuing back to his post. It was assigned as his post, but before that it had been Jackson's favorite hangout spot. Therefore, it wasn't suspicious that he was lounging there all the time. It was a small motel with a bar, restaurant, and a hidden gambling den. He took a part time job there, since the manager was tired of watching him simply just loiter around. A brothel was located close by, which was one of the reasons Jackson stayed near and around the motel.

Flicking out his San'taic, he tapped in a small text message. It simply read "Done." and he sent it straightaway. Sighing, he parted ways with his companions.

Location: Des

Alex pulled from the crowd to find that only Ginger remained at their table, dotted around the room a few others sat quietly watching to commotion with tortured eyes. The group behind him began to disperse, but not before Alex had noticed that each of those who sat alone, about eight of them in total, had the same horrible tortured look in their eyes. Even Ginger who hardly ever looked like that. But when the group behind him started spreading around the room to get back to the usual daily activities the eight looked away and started acting like the others. As if nothing had happened. Alex approached Ginger and took his seat across from her. "So where were we Ginge?" he asked, smiling slightly.

"Oh, Bite me Alex." Ginger snapped as she pushed herself to her feet and stalked away. Alex watched wide eyed, then Esta and Maz took their places, apparently having not seen what had happened.

"Where is she off to in such a rush?" Esta asked as she gathered up the cards, "Selfish child, now we have to...Alex where are you going?"

Alex was on his feet, heading through the thinning crown as he followed after the flash of Ginger's hair. He noticed at least five others moving in the same direction and sped his pace, he had a feeling that they were following after the same person he was. Alex reached the corridor first, the same one he had come down an hour or so before, he was glad when Ginger turned left instead of carrying straight on to where Marcel was, and Alex followed. She stopped at the end of this corridor and turned with her hands in her pockets. "What do you want Alex?"

"What in hell did I do?" he asked, trying hard to keep his anger under control, it was like something inside him had just snapped, if she were much closer he'd have probably stepped back to stop himself from lashing out at her.

Ginger narrowed her eyes at him, as if trying to look through him. "Do you hate Pandora?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I do."

She smiled, "We all do, but do you hate her enough to want her destroyed?" she came forward, and her gaze intensified, which seemed impossible but it was suddenly very hot in that corridor. Alex saw something in her that explained why she always looked simply ill. It was because she was beyond tortured. He opened his mouth to reply but found it dryer than usual.

Alex licked his lips to wet them, his anger fading away. "I... I don't know." he finally admitted.

"Then piss off." She didn't miss a beat in her reply, she simple pushed passed him to where the five others he had seen earlier were waiting at the end of the corridor. He realised that he knew all of them, but only barely, they kept to themselves and they all only looked ill. He watched as they all walked away and felt that he knew something now that was forbidden. That group, those people, they seemed to have something more to live for. Alex wasn't sure of in what way he wanted that.

Des, a desolate place filled with hate, decay, danger, and loomed in darkness all the time it seemed. Ruins of old buildings were everywhere, crumbled pieces that had fallen from said ruins littered areas of the road ways. The occasional sound of dripping water could be heard over the soft shuffling of feet moving from an unseen host. Caitlyn walked through the broken city quietly with Legion at her side. the one thing that off set the whole feeling that Des emitted what the fireflies, it seemed there were always fireflies in the part of Des that Caitlyn stuck around in. In a short distance she could hear someone cry monster and see a figure running from her, she couldn't help but give a weary smile at this. She had found light materials a few years before to make makeshift horns and wings as a safety measure, it would scare away stupider people or the more insane who see what they want to see. The ones she couldn't scare off she had two options, Legion, or running but lately it seemed as though every type of person had abandoned this are of Des and only a few stragglers such as herself remained.

Caitlyn could tell she was getting farther away from her 'home' the fireflies were starting to become more scarce. She could hear crying and screaming and wasn't deeply affected by it at first, it was usually to hear these noises in Des. What caught her interest was no sounds implying a beating, and someone saying for the crying to be quiet. She walked for a short ways and heard the crying from inside a restaurant. She figured her and Legion walking probably spooked them to think they were someone more violent. She stood outside the eroded building staring at it for a moment and then sighed. If someone was trying to comfort someone else that usually meant they were new to Des, and afraid. Legion growled and Caitlyn pat him on the head, "Easy boy," she cooed softly.

She walked into the restaurant and her sad emerald eyes scanned the area, she couldn't see anything as she figured she wouldn't but she could hear the crying. "It's alright," she called out in a calm almost emotionless voice, "I won't hurt you, please come out." she called and Legion started to sniff the ground and follow the scent over to a man and a girl who was crying, Legion licked the girl then barked and Caitlyn walked over to be barely able to see the two people and dog's figures in the shadows.

"I'm not insane and I will not hurt you, this is actually one of the safer parts of Des, please come out of the dark," she said as she extended a hand to the man. "I'm Caitlyn, but you can call me Caity," she said. Yet again she was allowing herself to help someone thrown into the same hell as her. it didn't bring her joy specifically but it did ease her sorrows, until the day she knew she would have to stop seeing them for they would go insane.

The cacophony of bullets and the bursts of Maig resonated throughout the air - every shot a fanfare to wrath, and every scorch a testament. Iron pellets punctured and ricocheted endlessly, and every now and then a great stream of flame would roar through a newly shattered window, charring the surrounding metal and lashing furiously against whatever unfortunate surface it so happened to meet. Truly, the destructive force of Pandora's military was both relentless and driven.

Standing a safe but proximate distance away, Chevaeil stood hidden between two parallel buildings, her head poked out meekly past a corner. It was strange to think that one could hide in the midst of such a battle, but so she did. Only a few buildings away did the great mass of Ser fight to remove Xephon from Pandora, yet here Chevaeil was safe, overcast by a veil of shadows.

"So..." she whispered to herself, gripping the rim of her hood anxiously. "I suppose this is the fate of a Xephon."

The Gastonaan, the commander of the Ser. So even a god of war could fall so far, his wings to be clipped by none other than his own angels. The years spent on the battlefield, the joining of blades and gun - they meant nothing now. Bonds of friendship and valor were meaningless in the presence of such a feared disease. Chevaeil knew well enough of the risks; a life of pain and hunger with no way to end it, a fate truly worse than death.

"I've heard of these purges ever so often. To be seeing it in person is a different beast entire."

Frederick hurried hurried along, with Circe close behind him. "Just think Circe, we can see the newest military technology in action, live! Oh how wonderful this will be, though we'd better not get too close to their operation. They might suspect us of some criminal act or I might catch Xephon from the Gastonaan. One can never be too careful around someone with Xephon in their system." Of course everyone on the tram he was currently riding was looking at him strangely and that was to be blamed on his current state of dress. He hadn't had a lot of time to catch the next tram, and so had had to stay in his laboratory clothes, consisting of leather-brown overalls and the spectacles he usually wore there.

It's worth a few embarrassing looks to get a look at some of the military's most advanced technology; though I'd best play it safe around the Sers. No telling what they might do if they catch me sneaking a peak he thought to himself as the tram stopped at the station he wanted. The public itself was in an uproar; the only people who weren't hurrying themselves either towards or away from where the Gastonaan currently was were the people working at the station itself or in one of the city's buildings. Everyone else seemed to have some sort of interest in the situation. He even spotted one of the news-craft headed towards there at an absolute record pace. He knew he probably couldn't beat them, but he didn't need to. All he needed to do was get a look at the tech being used; perhaps he could use their designs and purposes in his own work.

He made his way through the crowd, Circe on his heels, making excited beeps that seemed to convey the order of slowing down. He would really have to install a speech module in the thing, she (Frederick had no reason to think Circe was a she, but it was what he called all of his beloved machines) was starting to sound like an excitable diplomatic android. "Circe hush, once we get to where the Sere are fighting the Gastonaan, you're going to have to keep quiet, understand. They might hear you if you do." Circe made an A-OK sign with her graspers which then pantomimed the "shutting up and locking away the key" gesture. Frederick smiled: there really couldn't be a San ' Taic better than Circe. "Ah here we are, now how to get inside..." he wondered.

Abelard had never before felt so rushed. Yet, even through this rushed sensation, he drove carefully along the road, eyes kept forward. The looming giant of Pandora stood in front of him, presently occupying the man's periphery, blinding him to all other sights. It was odd, how in the midst of such a tangible chaos, Abelard still could not see how the city could be anything but its well-established and safe self.

The man's San `taic rode next to him, a passenger unaware of its surroundings until they would enter the city. Abelard casually wondered whether or not the automoton would have any knowledge of where it had been laying for so long, or if it would even ask. Truth be told, the thought was more comfortable to pursue than the feeling of unease that grew as he finally rolled into the city's limits.

"Morning, Abe," drawled a slightly feminine drone.

Abelard glanced over his arm, looking down at the San `taic which, now, was starting to hover slightly against the back of its seat.

"Ah, you're awake."

"I could have guessed."

The two sat next to each other in silence for a moment, the buildings of Pandora lazily dragging past.

"How was your vacation?"

Abelard smirked, his San `taic had never been this talkative. Perhaps it was a backlog of communication from its time spent in the safe.

"I enjoyed it," he replied.

The orb turned, Abelard kept his eyes straight.

"Looks like Pandora is doing well," the San `taic mused.

"I can never tell if you're being sarcastic or not."

There followed a silence that was easily penetrated by the unease. Abelard glanced from side to side from time to time, the relative calm of the city unnerving him even more than the dysphoria. Perhaps he was simply missing it, or the storm was still brewing.

"Where are we headed?"

"Back home," Abelard replied.

"Ah, no wonder you seem worried; teaching can be stressful."

Abelard shook his head. "Again, I can never be sure when you're being sarcastic or not."

In truth, Abelard felt he had much more to worry about than simply teaching. There had been a fair amount of panic in his old friend's words, and the entire city filled him with that clawing feeling of something out of place. The man worried slightly, still imagining his gaze shared with the moon of storms, and hoped that Ipaidu would not be the zeitgeist for the coming times. It would be quite distressing to live in such a turbulent time.

It felt like an eternity that Mason had spent running, but in reality it had only been a few minutes. But in that eternity he had thought long and hard about what he had done, and more importantly what he should do next. He had killed a father, his little girl, and had doomed another innocent child to a life if endless pain and sorrow, a life she would have to face without a mother, a father, or a sister. In one attempted act of mercy, in three pulls of the trigger he had condemned that child to an existence of such loneliness and suffering that not even Mason could stand to bury the guilt he felt.

So he stopped running and slowly turned around, the blank slate of his mask scanning the empty, bleak, city streets. He was a criminal, a thug, a murderer and a thief, but here, in hell, where monsters and demons roamed the streets, didn’t that make him a saint? Of course not, but Mason was already sprinting back the way he came regardless.


As he neared the place where he had tried to be merciful, his HUD started to blink and his motion sensor had several blips appear, all of them converging on the place where he had left the girl, it would seem her screams had not gone unheard after all. He promptly chambered a round and steeled himself for the task ahead, his one hope that the girl kept her eyes on the ground, he didn’t want her to see what was about to happen.

There were a half dozen of them, decrepit, depraved, half-mad creatures, covered in weeping sores and a few of them were missing limbs, all were armed with an assortment of clubs and pipe, and all had that tell-tale glint of humanity lost in their eyes. With bouts of insane laughter they closed in on the restaurant where the girl and a few others had taken shelter, they saw a bounty, a feast, a brief glimmer of enjoyment from sadistic acts in this place called Des.

But not today, not here, not now. Mason Grace bolted over a long abandoned car and landed a few dozen meters away from the girl, dropping to his knees and levelling his rifle. “Oi! Cunts!” He shouted at the creatures, but before they could do little more then turn to the man, he had already fired. A single round from his rifle flew through the air, passing over the girls head and impacting into the chest of one of the Xephons. The HE round did its job well and a large chuck of the creature was blown away, along with one of its arms and sending it toppling to the ground, its mutilated form still twisting and writhing on the ground as its mouth opened in a wordless scream of agony, as its lungs were all but destroyed from the shot.

The other Xephon’s faltered and took a few steps back, but they didn’t flee, insane men were hard to frighten. Mason rose to his feet and took a few more steps forward, his rifle aimed at the remaining creatures. “You see your friend there?! You see him twisting on the ground! That’s you! You miserably fucks! That’s you!” Mason was screaming at them, his voice full of anger, rage, he was at home here, this was his element.

After a moment of hesitation, in which the only sound being the flailing mass of twisted flesh on the ground nearby, the remaining creatures turned and fled. Leaving Mason to suddenly turn his rifle to a nearby building, a building in which he knew the girl was, along with several others. A million thoughts ran through his head, what should he do? What could he do? Chances are she would flee at the mere sight of him, and his display of violence just now probably didn’t help.

Usually he'd just start shooting, but even if his shots were on target, the explosion could cause the girl further harm, so he had to go with plan B. "Hey! All of you in there, get out here now! That girl is my responsibility! No one else's!"

Alex was about to go back to the main hall when claps of thunder rumbled high above, at first he thought it was a thunder storm before realising that the sound was that of gun shots. On the surface one of the insane seemed to have found a gun. Which was never good. Either way he had to go to Marcel as he knew that the sound would distress him. Alex headed towards his room as a few people headed towards him. "You hear that?" Ol' Bart asked as he stopped Alex, he was a thick bodied man and Alex knew there was no point in trying to push on, but there had only been one rumble, one shot. He hoped that that was all that was in the gun. "Some mad fuck found himself a gun," Bart shook his head, his companion going on to the main hall, "You know what that means kid?"

Alex did, when an insane found a gun it meant that they needed to go up top and take it off of him, it was unlikely that one of them would find an entrance but if they did having a gun would make getting them away a lot harder. Alex nodded, feeling Bart clap him on the shoulder.

"You're with me then." Bart declared. "I always lack volunteers to go up top."

Alex shook his head, "I need to see if my bro..."

Bart's expression darkened as he cut across, "Your brother should have gone up top months ago, we like yah kid and that's why he's still here, so fancy coming up top with me?"

Alex didn't think he had a choice. He nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets as Bart led him to the main room where he projected his voice so that everyone could hear him. He told them not to worry, he told them that he had a volunteer and would proceed up top to sort out the insane gunman. From there he led Alex to a store room where they kept a few guns, there were not many that still worked and rounds for them were rare. Alex took a small hand gun that had about six left in it and Bart secured himself a rifle and pocketed eight slugs. With so little ammunition the job would have to be executed with such precision that Alex could feel himself paling a little. The weight of the gun in his hand was enough to set his shoulder throbbing a little more and his head was aching again. Bart then led him along the corridor, where Alex stopped to check on Marcel. The man was curled up in the corner, two fresh scratches had appeared on his left cheek but other than that he appeared okay and was sleeping peacefully. Well as peaceful as Marcel could get.

From there they headed to the closest exit, it would bring them up around a block or so from where Bart estimated the gun shot to be. Alex felt a sense of foreboding settle in his stomach as he climbed the stairs to the surface, this wasn't what he usually expected to do in a day, it unsettled him to have to be doing something so different and unexpected, and there, he thought, is where my madness begins. When they reached the surface they only had to walk out of the street to see a few fleeing men, insane and grotesque they took no notice of Alex and Bart. There was some shouting from around the corner, it carried well in these desolate streets and slowly Alex moved forward with Bart prodding him in the back to make sure that he was well in front. When Alex looked all he saw was a man, a man who looked perfectly sane for he was not grotesquely ruined. He was facing an old crappy restaurant and his words were coherent. Alex thought that he was perfectly safe, although he was the one with the gun.

It seemed that they had come here to apprehend a man with a gun who posed them no real threat. Although with Bart behind him, pressing him forward, Alex had no choice but to expose himself. If this man chose to go mad and shoot Alex did not think he would be able to get out of the way. He stood alone in the street, facing the stranger with Bart hiding round the corner and a hand gun shoved into the back of his jeans. "Stranger." He called, raising his hands to show that he meant no harm. His shoulder screamed a protest but he ignored this. He licked his dry lips before he continued. "Stranger," he repeated, "what is your business here?" it was strange but for a moment Alex thought that the man might be perfectly healthy, in that he did not look ill. Perhaps he was one of Ginger's men then, but he doubted it. He tensed a little as he waited, ready to throw himself out of harms way if necessary.