Fool's Gold, Part 2

Well, at least there wasn't a crunching noise. The dull meaty THWACK didn't sound or feel good, but crunching would have been worse. Though the chained wrists (As Ash was now chained to a wall) made taking the fist harder, moreso that it was coated in flint.

"...Never start with the head. The victim gets all fuzzy. He can't feel the next..." WHY THE HELL ARE YOU QUOTING THAT YOU MORON DID SHE ALREADY GIVE YOU BRAIN DAMAGE.

"Shut the fuck up."

The brunette woman was clearly in no mood to take any shit. If the first punch didn't clue Ash in on that, then the second one would. That one bounced his head off the wall.

"...so is'this what basses for entertainment nyo?"

Another thump, this time to the gut, forced an "Oof!" as the wind was knocked out of him.

"I said shut up!" snapped the woman, glaring daggers. "Or do you want me to go for your fucking jaw next?"

Ash actually did not reply, mainly because he needed to regain his breath. Instead, he just stared with bleary eyes. The woman was small, compact. She clearly needed her rock fists to do any serious damage: even if she'd had some training in boxing, she lacked the proper body type to really punch with any power. She'd be better off learning a defensive martial art, like aikido, though aikodo wouldn't let you beat someone up when they were chained to a wall. Why was she doing it? Had Ivan gotten bored and delegated? Or maybe he thought he was being clever based on certain things...

She snorted. "Thank Chakravartin, I thought I was going to go mad. Now, where was I...?"

She paced back and forth, eying the body on front of her. Ash might have appreciated it, had he not known she was simply scanning for a fresh place to hit. Then again, given his current condition, he might not have appreciated any of it at all.

"Hmmm. Maybe the liver next. The boss always aims for that..."

"Is your boss' boss pissed I told him the truth or...?"

PUNCH.

"Nooopppeeee...guess nottttt..." Ash said, sucking air between his teeth.

"I said," snarled the woman, "shut the fuck up! Can't you take a Mantra-damned hint in your life, or are you literally retarded?!

"...heh, wouldn't surprise me, actually." To Ash's immense relief, she stood back and away from him, out of punching distance, to admire her handiwork. "You'd have to have the IQ of a cowpat to try and fight us. That, or a death wish the size of a small planet."

"We have found something."

Another time. No chains, no punches, instead just a seat at a table, but perhaps worse in a way. Ash hadn't liked the look in Godfather's eye the second he'd seen it.

"There are mines in the chasm we came out in. Useless minerals, or so we thought...then one of our less...intelligent members became grossly intoxicated and decided to...nasally inhale some of them once they were crushed, on a dare. The results were...surprising."

"Are they still alive?"

"They have some injuries from when their wood control accidentally caused the building they were in to collapse when they accidentally pulled it out of the ground with a thought. An object-moving process sixteen times outside their previously assessed maximum weight limit."

"...purple and blue crystals? Almost wet to the touch, found in dark crumbly clay?"

"Yes."

"...It's best used...crushed and mixed with salt...and then mixed with distilled water...and injected right into the bone marrow."

"...and why should we believe any of this?" If you quirked Godfather's eyebrow any higher here, it would fly off her face. "After all the effort I wasted in getting you to talk, suddenly you're just giving this information to us?"

"Because that's not some random magic crystal. That's the basis for Wunderwuffe you just stumbled over. And the only way you can safely use Wunderwaffe is if it's purified. Like wine, that takes years, and no Blackbird in my world is going to trade that information or service with invaders. And I know you're going to insist on taking it, because like you said. It made your stupid experimenting minion several times stronger. Has he or she started manifesting psychotic tendencies yet? Because that's sort of what happens when you ingest a high grade combat steroid equivalent."

"Kou?" Godfather laughed, and waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, whatever~! It's nice to see him be more assertive for once, instead of being a limp-worsted dork! Also, the way he threw his lab assistant through a window was funny as scheiße!"

Then her demeanor changed, as thoughts began to creep along her brain like a centipede on the prowl.

"...if it works for him, surely... Yes, I don't see why not...

"Is there any way," she asks, no longer muttering, "to speed that process up? I haven't got years to work with, you know! I'm a busy woman!"

"Please don't use it. I am asking you not just for my world's sake, but your world and your people."

In response, the Don of the Magpies cupped a hand to her ear.

"What's that? I can't hear you over the sound of money not being made! It sounds like a little blond-haired boy whining that the other kids are playing with his toys!"

"...I'm being quite serious." Ash said. "Wunderwaffe takes years to adapt to. It provokes excessive aggression, it destroys rational thought...I don't even know what it will DO to people like you. It might be poisonous. Do you want to play Marie Curie?"

"I don't know who that is."

"Do you want to hop up your people on drugs and then find them killing each other or keeling over dead of heart attacks?"

For a moment, Ash thought he saw something change in Godfather. In her eyes, the hazy cloud of self-obsessed, childish glee seemed to give way to what semblance of rational thought must have continued to drive her on the path of madness and law-breaking. She seemed to seriously ponder his words for a moment, not just casually dismiss them as though they were somebody else's problems. And, for a moment, it flared a spark of hope.

He might be getting through to her...

Then the raven-haired woman turned to an aide standing in a corner.

"Clerk," she snapped, "take a note, send it via InfoTube to Kou and Saguaro's divisions. 'Side effects of new compound reported by captive to be dangerous. Devote 50% of resources to finding a counter-compound to alleviate them. Also, broken window coming out of paycheck.'"

The aide did as told, scribbling out her message on a sheet of note paper before dashing off somewhere. After a pause, the woman turned back to Ash, clapping her hands together, and the selfish child was back in all her glory.

"So! Anything else you want to share? Or are we done with the whole 'doom and gloom forecast' routine?"

"If you start using Wunderwuffe on your troops, you will cause panic."

"You're no fun. Ironsides!"

In the corner, the sound of metal grinding against itself announced Ivan's standing to attention. "Da, madam?"

"Take the useless jerk back to his cell. Oh, and Ivan?"

Godfather's eyes flashed dangerously. Shadows swirled about her feet.

"No more 'private interrogations'. Understood?"

A brief scrape told Ash Ivan had clearly flinched or stiffened at this. Huh. So the big lug was afraid of something, after all.

"...Ponyal."

"Ma'am?" Ash said, having gone quiet. "May I ask YOU a question?"

"Stellen entfernt." (Ask away)

"What did your people tell you about my capture?"

"...that my forces overwhelmed you, despite the fight you put up. Lost a lot of good men, though. Why, is this important?"

"Is it?"

"I don't know," cried Godfather in irritation. "I thought you'd tell me if it was!"

"...just take me back to my cell."

Ivan's massive paw clamped on Ash's shoulder and began to drag him from the room. As he crossed the threshold of the room, though, the blond got a good last look of the black-haired leader turning her back on him, muttering audibly under her breath.

"What a spinös, honestly..."

And oh look, Ivan had taken that moment to enter the room Ash was currently in. His most recent abuser was apparently a subordinate of some sort. Ash just looked dully at Ivan, who towered over his female aide.

"Ash Marsello, Exa-"

Punch.

"...You suck at your job. Both of you." Ash mumbled, before hacking a glob of blood on the floor.

"Says the man with a bruised liver and maybe internal bleeding," Countered the woman with a sneer.

"Great if you just want me to suffer...oh yes, your boss doesn't want me to suffer. QED."

THUMP. That was probably the ribcage that bent horribly, there.

"Godfather isn't my boss," spat his assailant. "Ivan is. You think I take a direct order from that cuckoo? That's like if that sick fuck Muerto told me to drag you over to his place and feed you to one of his pets! And Morpheus knows I'm not doing that!"

"And Ivan's boss...is Godfather." Ash said, like he was stating 'the sky is blue'. "Ivan at least...I get. Why are you so mad at me?"

The woman looked at him as though he'd grown three heads.

"...okay, from the top." She lifted one rock-coated hand, the stone grating as she counted on her fingers. "One. You never shut up. Two. You're a fucking smart-aleck, and normally that's all the excuse I need. And three," she finished, clenching a fist, "Ivan's been getting cranky with this idiotic botch-job of an operation, and if I don't do this then he's going to take it out on me. And it's your fault for being the motor-mouth wiseacre with the mental capacity of slug shit who put him in that mood to begin with."

Analysis complete, she folded her arms and awaited whatever response Ash could devise. She honestly looked as though she thought that was enough to silence him.

"...Just let me go."

It was rare for Ivan to look goggle-eyed. Ash couldn't speak for the woman.

"I have pull in my world. We'll sign a peace treaty. We'll give you lots of supplies and treasure. You can take your people back and this can end peacefully, and Ivan can get the credit for getting what you want without wasting manpower or resources."

Hannah opened her mouth to speak-

"No."

-and was shoved roughly aside by Mr. Silver, bouncing off a wall as she went. The metallic form of the Russian loomed over Ash, glaring visibly beneath the faceplate.

"Do you think, little bastard," growled Ivan, "that we are stupid enough as to fall for trick like that? We cannot simply let you go on your worthless word! Where is guarantee you will not simply run off and bring back army to crush us?"

"But on the other hand," Hannah suddenly snapped back, picking herself from the floor, "how do we know he'd even do that?! He already got his ass kicked hard enough to bruise - he can't be stupid enough to risk open warfare with us!"

By way of response, Ivan rounded on her, fists clenched and an angry snarl building. The smaller woman flinched, but otherwise remained upright.

"I gave you my word." Ash's voice was tense.

"Word of dead man is worth nothing," snapped Ivan, rounding back on Ash. "You attack us and decimate our forces! And you think we let you go on just your word?!"

"Oh, be fucking reasonable!" Hannah moved, as if to intercept whatever the bigger man had planned. "Maybe he means it! We can beat anything he's got, surely we can-"

CRUNCH.

When Ivan's elbow retracted, Hannah was doubled over and screaming into the hands over her face. Blood dribbled from around nose level between her fingers.

"Forgive my assistant," rumbled Mr. Silver, almost casually. "She is new, and does not understand Magpie code."

It was funny that Ivan mentioned a lack of understanding just then. There were a few things he did not grasp himself.

One was the fact that Ash's cells were prisons designed to block the powers of Ubers. The Magpies had discovered that they seemed to work on Stream users as well, to a degree. After all, Ash hadn't tried to break out, had he? So surely he couldn't.

Another was the fundamental difference on how accessing the energy of the Stream affected people from Ash's world per how superpowers worked on theirs. The downside of excessive Stream use was Immersion, a condition similar to radiation poisoning...but the upside before you got to that point was a gradual increase in a body's strength and endurance.

The third was how a human body worked. Specifically, how it operated under a certain set of limits to prevent damaging itself. Crisis situations disabled those limits, which is how you had mothers lifting cars to save their children, as went the classic example. The body could function at three to five times its maximum capacity, at the downside of the fact that doing so would actively damage the body, and sooner rather than later. Hence, it was incredibly difficult to consciously disable those limits, which is why one often needed an outside source. Like alcohol.

Or overwhelming rage.

The end result was that when Ivan, having innately turned his head to look at his handiwork (or elbowwork, technically), turned back, he found Ash had broken the chains off the wall.

He also found that instead of Ash's punch futilely breaking his fingers on Ivan's faceplate, the end result was more like someone had swung a mace full on into his face. Not normally a problem...if Ivan had been expecting it. He had NOT been expecting that, and hence even he was staggered.

Ash promptly got around him, grabbing him by the head, his hand finding a fair grip in the various shifting indentations of Ivan's armor, and began smashing Ivan's face into the also-metal wall. Hard. Hard enough to leave indentations. And with every slam, a snarling word.

"MEN-DON'T-TREAT-WOMEN-LIKE-THAT!!!!!"

Alas, snapping in rage could only do so much for Ash. It did not help him when Hannah Vallis (Codename: Rubble) instinctively panicked and slugged Ash in the back of the head with her rock-coated fist. Ash's offensive cut off like a switch, as he slumped and then finally collapsed, knocked cold.As said, not seeing punches coming made them count for a lot.

Slowly, Ivan staggered back upright, looking as though he'd just woken up from a bad dream. His eyes were wide behind his mask, wide with an almost childish fear, and for a moment he simply stood there, breathing in ragged, rapid gasps. The front of his mask was almost caved in, crumpled and fractured in multiple places.

A long pause.

"...you alright, boss?" Hannah eventually piped up. "You look like-"

"Dismissed."

Hannah blinked. "Wh-?"

"You are dismissed," rumbled Ivan, almost like his old self again, "until further notice. Clean up here, but leave at once afterwards." And whirling on his heel, the steel-clad criminal marched from the room, his footsteps heavy with barely-contained rage masking his brief vision of terror.

Hannah stared after him, hesitating.

Then she looked down at Ash's unconscious form.

-------

When Ash next awoke, he'd have found his meal of the day on the bedside table, back in his cell instead of the interrogation room. Accompanying it was a note.

"I'll bring it up with the Council. It'll be something for them to chew on, at least.
- H."

The Eternal Recurrence, Part 2

"Do you believe in time travel, Sheena?"

"No." Sheena said, not even bothering to look up at Aria Cudjoists as she fed data into her Universal Pathfinding Lattice. The purple-skinned Teemer woman looked cross, knocking on the table with her three-fingered hand. "What? No, I don't. It's impossible."

"Right to impossible. Why are you so dull, Sheena?"

"I'm dull in imagination so I won't be dull in wits. It helps me know that time travel is just imagination." Sheena said. The alien adjusted her Pinpoints, special scanning glasses that were required whenever transport was being sent through the Subtle Folds. "And don't bring up lightspeed travel. That's not traveling through time, that's putting yourself in stasis, more or less. Backwards time travel is impossible."

"Why?"

"Well, for one, it violates every law of conventional physics."

"Said the woman standing next to the gateway to another dimension we use to transport cargo."

"We don't know WHAT the Folds are. I think if they were just another dimension, they wouldn't completely reject organic matter and we wouldn't have to spend so many Ours making sure anything we try and send through is free of it." Sheena said, using a slang term for 'man-hours' or as the politically correct business term was, 'organic hours', as not every species abided by the human concept of gender. "But I digress."

"You digress all the time. Your name is a slang term for rambling in the break room."

"Go figure." Sheena finished downloading the main data and began swapping in the programs she'd be using on this mission. "My point. We can't go faster than light, and traveling lightspeed means that if you want to get anywhere, by the time you get there everyone who wanted your stuff is long-dust. Sending people the long, slow way is even worse, if you've read our company's records."

"Yeah yeah."

"My point....again. The universe is DAMN BIG. We have so much trouble getting around it without building civilization ships, which, again, have some really big risks..."

"Yes, yes, Sheena. You are aware people overstate the risks and experiences of pandorum, right? People who feel safer are more likely to take risks, and our bosses hate risks."

"Overstatement or not, pandorum exists. And it's damn ugly. It's why we don't transport things the slow way any more. Eight times out of ten, the isolation of space got into their heads. And you can't just pull a Lightning Cage out of one's rectum, so going through the Folds is equally hard. Point being, the universe is BIG."

"What does that have to do with time travel?"

"Theories follow two rules about time travel. One's the paradox theory, negating your own actions. People have no idea what could happen if someone did that, some theories go all the way up to the universe completely being destroyed. We're not here, so either time travel is impossible or the theories are overstating things. And honestly, people understate the paradox theory. It's not just about large things like killing your own ancestors. You're still foreign matter inserting yourself into a time where you did not naturally exist. Just by going back you should cause a paradox, let alone trying to change the past. So that leaves the other theory. The multiverse theory. That going back in time and changing something just creates an alternate universe where your alteration played out."

"...And you think that's impossible."

"Look at the universe, Aria. How BIG it is, how much STUFF is in it, countless COUNTLESS processes over billions of years...and you're saying that if I went back in time and killed Be'Lunge, another universe that is almost an exact duplicate would just....spring into existence? All that matters and energy and STUFF, just...appearing? Grell...forget time travel. By the logic of that theory, everything that does anything with anything less than 100 percent success and devotion is creating new universes. I can't fathom ONE new universe just popping into existence, let alone TRILLIONS. It's too big, Aria. People just don't understand the SCALE. They don't understand until you're moving forward through the void to get somewhere and for day after day, week after week, month after month there's nothing but NOTHING...so no. Time travel is impossible. The basic laws of reality can't abide by it. Some things we figured out how to get around. Some things we never will. People don't understand impossible. They apply it to things like winning a Hensworth. That's not impossible, that's just HARD. Impossible is eating a star."

"Man, Sheena, if you'd been in charge your people would still be in caves eating bugs."

"I'm giving my opinion. Just because my ancestors thought fire was magic and lightning came from gods doesn't mean they could never understand the truth. Maybe there's still walls to push through. But from what I've learned to do our job, Aria...I think this is it. So speaking of, I have to actually DO my job." Sheena said, as she hauled a backpack out of her locker and began consulting the oval-shaped black carrying case she had been given by her unnamed employers.

"You really should tell the bosses what's in that."

"Why? So they can freak out and cancel the transport and muddy my name? Screw that. We got hired, they sent me, I'm using my best judgement and concluding I can transport it. Besides, I know what it is."

"The base scans came back with nothing."

"I checked what kind of nothing. Making an educated guess, it's antimatter."

"Antimatter's restricted."

"True, which would be a problem if I could CONFIRM it was antimatter. I can't, they wouldn't tell me what it was, just that it wasn't a weapon, a toxin, or a disease. The rest falls under our discretion guarantee. Beyond that is just me guessing and the fact I want the damn commission from this. Besides, why should I worry?"

"It's RESTRICTED. And antimatter can be used as a weapon."

"It's also forbidden for use as a weapon. EVERYONE follows the Cink Accords. Everyone. They might be twisting and breaking every other rule, but Cink's laws are damn near sacred. Anyone who steals it will be assumed to use it as a weapon, and hence they'll become an instant pariah even if they don't. This war won't last forever, and whatever the Psychopomps and Cornfeds think, they don't want to be the side that everyone hates when the war's over. I'm guessing some rich twit just wants a faster ship, or a Lightning Cage. What do I care if some idiot kid splats himself against the barrier of the Folds? I have a living to make."

"So ignorance is bliss."

"People who stick those noses into things end up with spited faces." Sheena said, finally settling on a side-bag. "We only get one trip around this life, and like I said, it's damn big. People who make up stories don't have the guts to go out and make the world into what they want. So I'll do my job so I can. I've followed procedure. You can pull up the reports and sign offs and check them if you want. I've got a green light and I have to go."

"Just go, boring girl." The alien said, turning her attention back to her work. "But don't come crying to me if you end up in trouble."

"Unlike some of our agents, I take our rules seriously. I don't even carry weapons on my person, because that's against the charter." Sheena said. "If I get in trouble, it's the universe being stupid, not me."

---

"It's amusing how the ones with a little knowledge and understanding always so greatly overreach."

"We didn't select her for her intelligence. She has sufficient talent and self-interest for this job and she doesn't want to know more details. All the same, we'd best provide some surreptitious assistance. The odds of this not having already leaked are non-existant."

"The shell?"

"Oblique Focus. She won't want the package to open, so even if the carrying case breaks, the shell will hold. Even if she dies, her desire will keep the Immutable sealed until we can retrieve it. Though it would be best if she DIDN'T die...the next carrier might actually want to ask questions."

"She was right, there. Asking questions brings nothing but grief."

"Unfortunately for her, grief is not so easily thwarted, I suspect."

---

Six Days Later.

If Sheena had had breath to spare, she would have run out of curse words by now. As it was, she had to focus her anger, and her breath, into flying.

She hadn't been too worried when she thought she was being followed. Even if she didn't expect trouble, anything in the life of a Twiddler that raised their hackles meant that they should treat it like incoming trouble, even if it just turned out to be paranoia. She'd invoked deceptive measures, and started popping Thousands to keep herself awake...

Then they'd come out of the star. Her transport ship was one of many generic space junks lugging more junk from here to there, her name wasn't on the transport listing for passengers, she'd crossed a few palms to ensure it...and they'd shown up anyway. Who was it? Reclaiments? Pirates? Stalkers? Maybe a Bulge or two? Whoever they were, they didn't give demands, they didn't try and board, they didn't say that their destructive acts were for one side or the other, or any of the score of sides in between. They'd just opened fire and turned the ship into outright junk. Bad enough...

But when Sheena had launched her escape pod, they'd ignored all the other pods that had made it and zeroed in on hers. Which pretty much said it all, even if Sheena had no idea at all what was going on. And who cared? They wanted her package, and she was stuck in a NS-900DI sphere-based vehicle. While the 'Nosedive' was technically a small spaceship and very much flyable in deep space and in atmosphere, it WAS designed to escape from disaster after all...disasters didn't chase you. For things that chased you, the Nosedive could have been a lot better.

Gods, the universe was so stupid.

A Love That Crushes Like A Mace

-Then-

"Alright, here's the lowdown."

Sam never was that fond of the Kingsguard. Mostly, he just found their presence annoying - which was in itself an annoyance, considering they were literally everywhere across the globe. And whenever they turned up, they had a habit of trying to ensure he did things "by the book", which was even more annoying. But he had to admit, a lot of the situations he ended up in could have gone a lot worse, had they not been around, so in that respect they were a rather big help.

Right now, listening to the bristle-chinned sergeant in front of him would be an even bigger help.

"Regenerators," he was growling in a voice like Steven Blum ate too much pepper. "We don't know how they work, and we can't say if they're Ubers. All we know is that they're damn near impossible to kill - can grow back anything in mere seconds. Limbs, organs, bone, the whole shebang. And if one goes rogue, that's bad news for us."

He looked back and forth amongst the recruits, sitting at their desks in front of him. All of them were paying keen attention - looking, in Sam's mind, like a bunch of wax dummies in over-polished battle armour. If there was one good thing that the Destined Hero position granted, it was the position of not being a faceless mook.

Nobody spoke, so the sergeant went on.

"So I want to make this very clear to you all. The only way to kill them is by destroying the brain. If you get that, they die instantly - like zombies, although Chakram knows if these guys count. Anywhere else is wasting effort, lasers, spears and lives. Simple as. If you ever encounter one of these things, a clean shot to the head is the difference between life and death."

His voice raises as the class, disturbed by what they were seeing, began to murmur in apprehension.

"You hear me, lads? What do we do?!"

The reply comes in a roar. "GO FOR THE HEAD!"

"Damn right, you do."

---

-Now-

She'd said hold back and follow her when the shadows had come. Shadows with faces he hadn't known, but she had, ones she'd tried to deal with with a grim look...

Then the ground had cracked open under him, and the boiling steam had engulfed him. Not a huge issue with starfire-based heat resistance...but when he finally got the sense of solid ground back, he'd lost Christine.

Alone again, naturally.Lost on a  place Christine told him no one went. A bad place that she was only gracing with her presence because she wanted to rescue a group that had been flying in an airship and had the terrible luck of crashing there...

"Cocking shit!" were the first words that left Sam's mouth when he realized the situation. This was getting to be more than a little aggravating, and he was starting to wish he'd never picked up the Grandius and responded to that distress signal in the first place. Ever since he'd got here, it had been a parade of cock-ups, misfortune and idiocy...

Well, minus one constant benefit. But she wasn't here.

"Christine?!" he hollered out, drawing that now-cursed blade as he scanned the area. "Where are you?!"

Silence, save for the constant low roar of a geologically unstable area.

"...fuck this."

Sam immediately turned and headed in a random direction. Outside, it looked like he was throwing an angry temper tantrum, but there was a shred of logic in this madness - hopefully, he'd run into the cause of this mess. And then he was going to ram his foot down it's throat for ruining what had already started as a shitty day and was getting even worse...

"Let's try to make it right...don't wanna start a fight..."

...Singing.

"And I'm so sorry if I give you all a little fright..."

There was absolutely no way with the background racket of Megan's Woe that he could hear quiet singing...especially since he couldn't pinpoint a direction. It seemed like the singing was coming from inside his own ears.

"I'm not so scary if you see me in the daylight..."

Shame about the situation. It actually was a pretty nice voice...

Like a siren.

"I'll be so happy just as long as you survive the night..."

Still, fuck. Singing. That was just giving Sam flashbacks to the time he'd first encountered Dallas. The blond was sure he'd drank enough beer to forget that particular memory.

Biting back a groan of frustration, Sam tried his best to pinpoint where the noise was coming from. It was good singing, he had to admit, but in the current environment it wasn't doing much for his mood.

"Let's try to make it right
Just wanna start a blight
And I'm so sorry if I
Give you all a little fright
I'm not so scary if you see me in the daylight
I'll be so happy just as long as
You survive the night..."

There was no real surprise. Sam saw the shadow through a fog of mist for several seconds before it emerged. It was female, and at first Sam hoped it was Christine. Then he realized it was too short, and didn't have her weapons.

Then she stepped through.

The thing Sam recalled later was just how impossibly perfect the white of her clothing was, white that matched the perfect whiteness of her hair. It drew attention away from her face...and the fact that her outfit didn't look like cloth. It looked like flayed skin, covering everything save her face. Her normal face...

And the brilliant, happy, void of her eyes. Sam remembered a few of the female Kobbers when they were laughing, that bright glint in their eyes...a brightness gone terribly, TERRIBLY wrong here. The hairs on the back of his neck didn't just stand up, it felt like they were trying to leap off his skin and run away. Wrong, WRONG, bad bad BAD...

"Hey there! How ya doin'? Nice to meet you, are you new in town?"

Such a normal voice, on the edge between talking and singing. A friendly wave.

"Don't think I've seen you before. It's great to see new faces around!"

"Um... yeah. Good to see you, too. I guess."

Oh, Chakram above, bad vibes. Bad vibes crawling all down the neck and back like spiders. Keep one hand on sword, keep muscles tense, look for possible ways out... What do you mean 'ways out', Sam, it's a wide-open plain! She might be able to catch you, who knows what she can do?

Alright, here goes...

"So... who are you, anyway?"

"If you like it, I can give a tour..." Wait that wasn't an answer..."Of this enchanting wonderland, new and improved, without the moores!"

She was still singing. What she was saying was rhyming...

And she was now next to him, standing to his side, one arm draped chummily over his shoulders.

"There's no escape but then, who would wanna leave?"

He felt like he was embracing the floor of an abattoir. Sam jerked away, as a distorting fog rolled over the woman.

"It's a fantastical paradise..." Her hand plunged through the fog, waving it away and solidifying her person, as if condemning any concept this could be a mirage. "And it's not, make-believe!"

...yeah, this wasn't looking good. Better nip this in the bud now, before a chorus line of demons in Vaudeville hats showed up or something. Like Disney gone wrong.

"Okay, I've had enough. Grandius: Priority Two!"

PARAMETERS RECOGNIZED.

And with a flick of the wrist, the sword was sent shrieking like a rocket towards the woman, point first.

"I'm so glad to have another member of the band..." She wasn't even reacting to the incoming blade. "You're one of them now, so let me take you by the hand!"

An offered hand. Just as she'd said. Innocent lost, like even light could not escape a black hole.

The sword went deep, piercing right through her lower chest, impaling her like an insect under glass.

...She just smiled.

"But what is that I spy, with my all seeing eye?"

This wasn't like Diana. If Sam had witnessed that, he would have recognized that her injuries still hurt terribly; she was just enduring it. But this woman?

She was happy.

Then she started pulling his sword out.

Vertically. Up THROUGH her body. The flow of blood became a shower. Blood that was so impossibly, impossibly red.

"I think I see a bit of heart inside the new guy!"

The Grandius was called back to him. That was Sam's take. He didn't like the other idea, that the sword FLED the woman's hand once it was free. It shook off the blood on the way there, the liquid boiling and hissing on the ground. Due to the heat. Sam accepted it was due to the heat...

"Maybe he isn't everything that he seems..."

She was self-cleaved. It wasn't affecting her at all. Then she reached inside herself. The snapping wet noises as she yanked out pieces of herself all at once would have normally made him sick, except the sight of it rapidly pushed him past nausea, the bones and muscles retracted forming into a scythe-like axe as the woman's horrific wound closed up, all that remained that it existed was the blood covering her form and her smile.

"Time to investigate, WHAT'S UNDERNEATH THE SEAMS!"

"...urp."

No, Sam, not the time to throw up! Time to actually do stuff! if this woman wants a fight, then give it to her!

"...if you wanted a fight, you should have just said so."

The former Destined Hero quickly took up his traditional fighting stance. But as he did so, he yanked with one hand on the handle, drawing out the concealed knife with the over-theatrical snikt he'd come to completely ignore over the years. Could never be too careful, right?

There was a very brief moment of relief when she attacked him and he fought back; she was fighting normally. She might have literally yanked a weapon out of her own body, but she was just swinging it like anyone else Sam had ever crossed swords with, as she hacked and chopped and smirked her way through an exchange of blows...

("Let's try to make it right
Don't wanna start a fight
And I'm so sorry if I
Give you all a little fright...
I'm not so scary if you see me in the daylight
I'll be so happy just as long as
You survive the night...")

No demon chorus line. Just the singing, in his ear, when he wasn't hearing the sound of his own breath...

...He was starting to tire.

Oh, he could still go for a while if he had to, Sam had excellent stamina (Chastity could attest to that)...but he was still STARTING to tire.

And she wasn't. In the slightest. Just as every wound he inflicted closed up. In the deepest coldest part of his stomach, Sam rapidly realized he was facing a perpetual motion machine. There was no end to this.

("Let's try to make it right
Just wanna stain the white
And I'm so sorry if I
Give you all a little fright...
I'm not so scary if you see me in the daylight
I'll be so happy just as long as
You survive the night...")

She didn't want him to live through any period of time. She wanted him...to last.

For who knew what horrors lurked in those bright, consuming eyes.

Sam did not want to know what those horrors were, He just wanted this whole thing to stop so he could find Christine and get out of this wretched hell-hole. But he was going to tire himself out at this rate - it was obvious that a straight-up sword fight was not the answer here.

Okay, then. Time to cheat.

Parrying another swing of the axe, Sam leaped back to get some distance...

"Hey, how about you sing one of my favorites?"

Let the power flow...

"BURN, BABY, BURN!"

And let fly with as much solar fire as he could muster, sheets of blazing death...

Which she wasn't around for. In the moment of his declaration, she'd vanished and appeared by his side again...

Putting an arm around him again. This time, Sam felt like he was embracing a porcupine. His body didn't actually get hurt, it wasn't an attack, but his mind and soul revolted at her touch.

"Forgive me for being suspicious, mischief's not on my brain..."

An elbow to the face to drive her away. A jaw shattering and dislocating, cheekbone snapping, eye popping. He hadn't hit her that hard, he COULDN'T hit that hard...

A hand to pop the jaw back in, the damage fading away...

"I'm inclined to be dramatic, if someone messes with the frame..."

"What the hell are you?" Sam said.

"It's not that I don't trust you, I do! (I love you, too.) It's just that, as an Elite...We have a few rules."

"The hell is an Elite?"

Her response was to go for his throat.

Sam's response was to show she wasn't the only one who could pull the blink style dodging.

He also promptly demonstrated some of the tricks he'd learned since he'd ended up here. A month ago, one of his missed attacks would have been a waste.

Now...he'd literally slammed on the brakes with, leaving the sheets of fire burning in mid-air as soon as he realized he'd missed. There was a satisfying sense of release in his brain as the woman, no longer having him as a target flew into it and he could stop devoting extra effort to maintaining it. She burned...

She smiled, even as her flesh was ravaged under the fire...the fire that turned as black as her burning form, swirling around her.

"And if you BREAK them, we will have to BREAK YOU, like you broke our hearts." Oh god that SMILE..."SO WHY DON'T I JUST LAY YOU OPEN, AND PULL OUT YOUR DAMAGED PARTS?"

Damn it, quick, before she made another weapon or worse, in Sam's soul he knew she was capable of SO MUCH WORSE...

"Now, you wouldn't want that...and frankly, neither would I..." Her arms were open, like she was offering a hug, even as flesh sloughed off her form like candle wax. "But sometimes to do some good, you've gotta be the bad guy!"

The Grandius caught her right on the crown of her head. Sam felt his guts twist as the sword plunged down, through bone and gristle and burning, stinking meat, carving through it like a turkey, Sam only stopping from a full bisecting cleave due to a last second retreat. Brain cut, hacked in two...

...the corpse swayed like a snake...

"...In this world we play...I hope that you will stay..."

THE SONG DIDN'T EVEN STOP.

She was growing back. The rules didn't apply. She reaching up and literally pushing herself back together, and despite every trained instinct he had, Sam felt the chill go from his stomach to his knees.

"And we will throw a most electrifying soiree..."

She pushed her head back together. The line Sam had crossed her smile with faded away.

"Formal attire is required for you to take part..."

The flesh was peeling from her fingers, knives of bone sprouting from beneath the burned, ruined flesh, blackened wings of stabbing death peeling out from beneath her body, the black fire she'd tainted his power into settling on them, the ground hissing like a wounded, terrified animal as her blood dripped down onto it, poisoning it...

"YOU'VE GOT SOME SKIN THAT NEEDS REMOVING BEFORE WE START."

The hands grabbed Sam. Twisting his head around.

From behind him.

...

Not her. Christine. Though Sam nearly had a heart attack anyway, first from the shock of the surprise grab...

Then she kissed him, and his eyes nearly joined his heart in bugging out of his body, the sheer contrast and unexpected confusion slamming into his mind.

"Gurryyyhhyyyyerrrh?"

He twisted away, his eyes snapping back to the woman...

She was fading. The fog was washing over her. She looked...disappointed.

Yet the song...

"Let's try to make it right
Don't wanna start a fight
And I'm so sorry if I
Give you all a little fright...
I'm not so scary if you see me in the daylight
I'll be so happy just as long as
You survive the night..."

Still echoed, one last time.

"I'm sure you'll survive...just don't break the rules...and play nice...and we'll be the best of friends...forever..."

Gone, like the shadow she'd been born out of.

"...Sorry Sam. I needed the biggest shock possible. To break the lock you'd stumbled into." Christine said, wiping her mouth. "Your lips are bleeding, by the way."

Sam blinked.

There were a lot of responses on his mind that he could have used. They ranged from asking if Ash had been lacking recently to several bewildered takes on "what the fuck was that", with a standard "thanks" somewhere in between. But all of them were fighting for position like a bunch of screaming fangirls at a gig, and for a while he had a job to think of a proper response.

So he settled for fishing out a handkerchief and wiping his mouth whilst he tried to put the pieces together.

"...give me fair warning, next time," he finally mumbled as he dabbed at his lips. "I might be able to appreciate it, then."

"Sorry about that. The battle that happened here...just damaged...everything. Reality itself. Things...bad things walk here...they're real and they're...not. Things that were, things we fear are...bad things. You didn't know that was just an echo, so it existed...but it needed focus. I broke it, so it faded. I've located the survivors, we'd best get out of here before something else decides to...come. Or come back."

"...so where were you, whilst I was flailing about like a drunken dickhead?" Sam asked, once he was done wiping. It had clicked at this point just what had happened, and whilst he wasn't sure if it was anything to do with the hallucination he had prior, he was starting to feel like an idiot for falling for it twice.

Then it occurred to him.

"Wait... you saw it, too? That wasn't a gas-induced fever dream?"

"No."

"...what WAS that, then?"

Christine's look was the most solemn he'd ever seen her.

"Evil."

That was all she said.

It was all that was needed.

---

Song adapted from Mandopony's FNAF2's song "Survive The Night".