

# THE FAMILY: HELL'S JURISDICTION

Oliver Tyson

# .

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Oliver Tyson

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# THE FAMILY: HELL'S JURESDICTION

"Your name?"

"Morris Taylor, sir."

"Your rank?"

"Detective, sir."

"Why do you wish to transfer to the Second World Division?"

"It is where the most evil is, sir."

"Have you ever played Hell's Jurisdiction, Soldier?"

"No sir, never could afford it, sir."

"Why do you think the SWD would recruit you?"

"Because I'm the best, and I was raised with strong morals, sir."

"Which are?"

"No compromise."

"Your lack of experience in Hell's Jurisdiction states that you are to be recruited Militem, however with your record, you are herby given a promotion to Legatus. You are to report to Communia James Rage for orders."

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

.

Morris had walked past the SWD Headquarters so many times before; the building was shaped as an H, two ten-story towers with a two-story bridge in between. He had heard that the central floors were the immersion areas, however he had never been inside. Entry was for SWD members only. As he walked toward the building, he went over in his head what he would say. Truth be told, he wasn't joining the SWD because of the evil that needed to be fought. But because this was his only remaining option, he held to his motto (No compromise) religiously, even to the point of second-guessing, and disobeying orders. His men loved him, but his superiors hated him.

After presenting the correct paperwork he was given by the recruiter to the guards, Morris was granted entry to the facility. The color scheme was white and grey, with dark blue edging, and the furniture arrangement made the place seem bigger than it actually was, or maybe it was the trepidation of the moment, and his first time in the building. The first floor of the right tower contained the entrance, and the information desk, and excluding the security office, nothing else. The second and third floors were comprised of office space, the fourth floor held the superior office space, like that of Communia Rage. Morris stood motionless on the elevator; it took all the strength he could muster to keep his hands from twitching. The office was at the end of a short hall, but every step tied his stomach tighter, in anticipation of the long awaited reunion. The door was open, Communia Rage sat at his desk with his head in his hands, Morris stepped inside and closed the door.

"Hello, dad."

"Morris, I was expecting you to come here, after you went and exhausted all of your other options."

"Yea, I didn't think you'd recognize me."

The Communia stood and walked slowly to a file cabinet, as he sorted through various drawers he commented.

"If you came looking for action, you came to the wrong place, we haven't seen any real fighting for as long as I can remember. But we're always close, that's the only reason that the plug hasn't been pulled on this mission yet. We collect just enough evidence to keep this place running."

"Well, action or not, I'm reporting in, sir." Morris placed the proper paperwork on the desk.

"Good to hear, you ever played Hell's Jurisdiction before?"

"No sir."

"You've been briefed on it yet?"

"Not entirely, I've watched the preview, and read some gamer reports."

"So you have no idea what you've sighed up for."

"No sir."

Communia Rage sat again at his desk and began flipping through the folder Morris had given him, "and you're coming in with rank, that's my boy, coming in a Legatus!"

"Thank you sir."

Rage got really quiet, as he was having a sentimental moment, "you know, of all the things your mother took in the divorce, you're all that I missed."

"Even the car, sir?"

"Ok, you got me. But seriously, its good to see you. However, just because you're my kid doesn't mean I'll be going easy on you, do you understand, Legatus Taylor?"

"Yes sir!"

"Than report immediately to the immersion bay to begin second world training."

"Sir, yes...um, were is the immersion bay?"

"Its on the sixth floor son... Now get moving!"

.

Morris ran to catch the elevator as it was closing, almost running into a young woman as he entered. She gave him a kind smile and asked, "What Arrow are you in?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm assuming your part of the First Quiver, am I right?"

"I... don't know."

"That's not good, Dux Timmy wont be happy."

"Timmy, really?"

"Don't joke his name, he's really touchy about that, not to mention that he shoots his men quite frequently in game. Especially for not knowing the basics."

And Morris didn't know the basics, "I'm in trouble."

"Don't worry, I'll explain, there are three Quivers, Luke, Grave, and Rage, this building houses the Rage Quiver. Each Quiver has four Arrows; I'm part of the Second Arrow. Each Arrow is made up of six Militem, two Legatus and one Medic, that's me."

The elevator doors opened, and there before him was a vast room with two sets of nine chairs, in three rows (six in the back row, one in the middle and two in the front) between the sets sat three additional chairs. The young woman walked to the near set, and stood beside the single chair, Morris (who had been following her) found himself next to one of the two Legatus chairs. A short, pudgy man walked towards him, the three parallel swords pin on his shoulder let him know that this was Dux Timmy.

"What the hell do you think your doing? That was Legatus Trixy's chair, and you are no replacement."

"I am her replacement, sir."

Everyone's attention turned to him.

"And where are your pins, son?"

"I have yet to be given them sir, but Communia Rage has just confirmed my promotion."

Dux Timmy fell silent, "If your pulling a daddy's boy trick, I'll show you hell." He turned and walked toward the elevators, yelling over his shoulder, "At attention till I return!"

As soon as the elevator doors closed Morris turned to the young woman, "I didn't get your name."

She smiled, "Bethany, Bethany Raven."

"Legatus Taylor." He smiled, and they waited for Timmy to return.

Dux Timmy walked onto the floor and up to Morris with two pins in his hand, each depicting two parallel swords that went on each shoulder. Timmy walked back to the front without so much as a breath to Morris.

"For those of you who are new here, these are immersion chairs, this is how you log into the game. Unlike the immersion chairs you can buy as a gamer, these have no cushioning whatsoever, so you will wake very sore." Turning to the other set, "First Arrow, please log in."

Morris watched as the team prepared to log in, he noticed how each member held a little tradition before entering the chair. From slamming both fists into their chest and flashing two peace signs in both directions, to covering her face with both hands muttering a short prayer, as though to prepare themselves for an ordeal. Just a few minuets ago he thought that this Hell's Jurisdiction was just a game, now he wasn't so sure. Altogether the team put their right hands on the armrests, pressing a large red button in the center of it. The chairs rose and reclined in the same creepy manner as a dentist chair, and large dome helmets slowly lowered over their heads. At the base of each chair two screens opened, showing nothing but fuzz for a short time before a first person view along with a heart monitor came on to each left screen, while the right screen held a centered map around the avatar.

"As you can see," Dux Timmy spoke, "Everything is recorded, if you see anything of note in the game, don't worry about remembering it because we'll have it on disk." An odd grin came across Timmy's face. "For the new face, we're going to run a basic training exercise, just try to remind yourself Morris, it's just a game."

Walking to one of the three center chairs, Dux Timmy sat, and logged on to the game. As the chair reclined, Bethany looked to Morris.

"Don't worry, as long as it doesn't go like my first time you'll be fine."

"What do you mean?"

"I got eaten by a Cannibal."

"...What!"

"Don't worry, and try not to take too long to get ready."

"Wait what?"

Bethany dropped to one knee and closed her eyes; with her left index finger she drew a curve on her forehead and an X on her chest. Hopping up into her chair she gave him a thumbs up and logged on. Felling oddly alone and strangely depressed, he sat in the uncomfortable chair, pressed the red button, and hoped for the best.

The room slowly lit, there was no source for the light, but the room was bright all the same. The room was square and quite large, and on the wall before him stood three suits of armor. The small grey suit consisted of a micro-fine chain weave glove/shirt, basic metal bullet-proof jacket, shoulder guards, two hard plastic arm guards that covered from the elbow to the wrist. The pants were made from metal-cotton weave with hard plastic boots and leg guards; dressing was not short of a challenge. The helmet was a basic military cap with a face guard that was completely opaque. Tossing it away he tried the medium armor helmet, which was thicker and stronger and also opaque. Morris didn't try the heavy helmet because it didn't have a visor at all, deciding to go without, he turned to his right, where stood a wall of the most beautiful guns and weapons that he had ever seen. On the top, seven guns lay butt to barrel, arranged for range, from shotgun to sniper rifle, and beneath lay the handguns, two of each, arranged by size. Morris grabbed the two largest handguns and strapped them on the belt, he grabbed three magazines (held onto the belt laterally and each in its own covered holster). As he turned to leave, he saw that under the handguns lay the combat knives, and a beautiful steel saber. He couldn't have been happier, as swords were extremely rare weapons in the real world (mainly because they had no logical use) but held incredible sentimental value. He held the weapon close before strapping it to his back, he looked around the room for anything else of interest, to his right was a mirror, and across from him looked like some random pieces of armor. A large green circle lay in the middle of the room, assuming it as the exit Morris stood on it; kneeling, he removed both guns, crossing them at his chest, he felt ready, but not at all prepared. The lights slowly went out, there was utter darkness for mere seconds before the light rose again.

Another room greeted him, even larger, and brighter than the first. Perfectly round, with symmetrical, and colorless furniture. Six men walked aimlessly around the room, Morris recognized them as the members of the second Arrow. The second Legatus stood by the open door, with his hand on the hilt of his sidearm. Morris holstered his weapons and approached him. Legatus Slate turned toward him with a kind smile.

"Couldn't get your helmet to activate?"

"Um, no."

Slate removed his to show him, "Its these two buttons on the inside, when you press them the visor becomes clear, they work as computer screens, and show much more than just what's in front of you, it's also the camera which shows on the screen in front of the chair," Slate walked around him checking his armaments.

"The multiple magazines are unnecessary," he commented, reaching into the holster that he had on his own belt, throwing the magazine to the side, "this is a game, and thus not necessarily bound by physics or reason," he said as he reached back into the same holster and removed another magazine.

"You took a while, but at least you weren't playing with your appearance."

"You can do that?"

"Were do you think Beth and Kitten are?"

In the center of the room a woman began to appear, the female armor was much different than the males, much sexier and incredibly sleek. She wore grey light armor, with three belts around here waist, two connected on only one side as to hang down to the thigh on the other, holding her twin silenced light repeating handguns, a belt hung across her back holding her sniper rifle, and a black belt was latched around her bared stomach. Her hair was blue and purple, tied in a ponytail, and instead of a helmet she held a black mask in her hand.

"Her name is Kitten?"

"She doesn't like people knowing her real name, the nick name Kitten is short for Stealth Cat."

"Because she's a sniper?"

"Because she's a cat, whenever enemies show up she disappears, of course she is 'finding higher ground', but she always uses her partners as bait. She is the only member of any Quiver to have never been killed."

"She's that good?"

"That, and whenever it looks hopeless, she turns her gun on herself and leaves you alone. But, other than the loyalty of a cat, which is none, she is the best sniper in the Quiver."

"Turns her gun on herself, that's horrible."

"It's a game, when you die you just wake up with in the chair, and a bullet to the brain is much better that being torn limb from limb by the Sinners, you do know that pain is just reduced fifty percent right?"

"Actually I don't even know what you mean by Sinner."

"Well, you're about to find out," he paused for a second, "you should check out Bethany's entrance."

Bethany appeared in a white light armor, with the red image of medicine (a quarter moon inside a star), on her chest and left shoulder, her arms were bared, with her hands covered in thin white gloves. Her shirt fell short from her belt by an inch, while on her low riding belt sat different sized boxes and holsters for different tools. On her right hip sat a heavy pistol with the left leg bared, and strapped to the boot was a large smooth knife. She wore a mask similar to Kittens except it was white with the image of medicine in the right corner, she had her hair in flowing free fall, the color silver and gold.

"Wow." Morris was speechless.

"That's Bethany outside the office."

"And she's the medic?"

"Yes she is," Slate turned, looking to the ground while Morris gawked. Regained his attention with a more serious tone Slate continued.

"Before we head out we need to clarify something, the structure of an Arrow is one Legatus leads two Militem in the arrowhead, the other Legatus is the Arrow leader. Even though you're Trixy's replacement, I'm the Arrow leader, are we going to have a problem with that?"

"Actually, I'm still trying to take the safety of my guns, I'm not ready to lead a team against an enemy I've never even seen before."

"This is a game, there is no safety on the guns."

As they walked outside, Morris looked around at the surroundings, they were beside a wide street, with old and mostly broken down buildings on either side, he turned to one of the Militem, "Apart from the demolition, I think I recognize this area."

"You should, this is just two miles out from the SWD headquarters."

"They copied this area in the game?"

"You don't know? The game map is a copy of the entire world, of course that was over ten years ago, things have changed a bit in the real world since then, and a few things have changed here as well."

"I didn't know it was that massive."

He laughed, "Its size is nothing to how massive Hell's Jurisdiction is."

Morris smiled, "can't wait."

.

"Listen up! This is going to be an easy training mission for the new guy."

Moans rose up from the team, "we always do training missions," "its only one guy, can't we just split up?" And the popular, "I'm dying for some action."

Slate looked around at his team, and looked to Bethany.

"Ok, how about this, Bruce, King and Wraith, go try to funnel some Sinners towards the rest of the team."

The three cheered and ran off into one of the nearby buildings. Morris approached Slate, "you just let them run off like that?"

"It's a training mission in a game, these things get really boring, it's not like this at all in the real missions."

"I don't like it, but I'll take your word for it."

They continued for quite a while, with no order or formation, which bothered Morris greatly. Random hushed conversations abounded throughout the team, until with a bizarre hand signal they came to a stop. Morris straightway approached Slate.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"A flat hand, held out and up, means stop."

"But I said stop."

"Well I didn't hear anything."

"You didn't bring your radio did you?

"...Radio?"

"Very small earpiece, on the wall with the armor and arms attachments."

"Um... I didn't see it."

"Fine, but I did say stop."

The team gathered around as Morris and Slate debated, asking their little questions like: "Why did we stop?" and "What's up?" Pulling himself away, Slate answered.

"Something's following us."

"Action?"

"It's not a Sinner, and the others are too far away to intercept."

Bored objections rose from the team as Slate continued.

"Pain, Ezra and I will go handle it, the rest keep going."

Again Morris approached him.

"Why do you keep splitting up?"

"The whole point of this 'training exercise' is so you can see something, its pointless, and boring."

"But it's a drill, drills are supposed to be boring."

"The next mission, we can do correctly, but for now just walk forward and hope you run into something. Because if you don't run into something, guess what we have to do all over again?"

The three ran off, leaving Morris with Beth and Kitten, of whom he had noticed, that they usually walked on either side of the group. He walked with one on either side, failing to make conversation. Slowly they came to a halt, as interesting developments came in over the radio. Morris waited for someone to fill him in.

"It got Ezra."

"What did?"

"And it's on its way here."

"What is?"

"Slate and Pain are too far behind."

"Of what?"

"A Cannibal."

"Ok... what is a Cannibal?"

A voracious roar, that held the distinct sound of a growling stomach, rose from behind them, Bethany backed away from the noise.

"Why does it have to be a Cannibal, why not a Murderer or a Psychopath or something fun like that."

Morris wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic, he slipped one of the pistols from his belt. As Bethany continued her bleating, Kitten slowly approached behind her. Stepping in quickly, she placed one hand around her jaw, using her mask to strengthen her grasp. Her other hand held firmly on the back of her neck, and with a swift motion, twisted her head, breaking her neck. As the body fell, she turned to Morris, "lets go."

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

"What?"

"You just killed her?!"

"Well-"

"Just like that."

"She doesn't like Cannibals, and that was much easier than getting eaten."

The growling roar grew closer and closer as the two argued, Kitten urged Morris to retreat, but he stood still next to the body.

"We can't leave her like this."

"She's not like this, she's probably standing in front of my chair watching."

He bent down to examine the body, she wasn't heavy at all, but he knew she would slow them down too much, with the approaching sound of the threat. But he never left one of his behind, dead or alive. Kitten knelt beside him.

"Just take her Spirit."

"Her what?"

"The knife on her boot, the name of it is Spirit, it's the thought that counts right? And it is just a game."

Untying the knife from her boot, he attached it to his belt. As they turned to leave the enemy came into view, Morris first noticed its humanoid build, however instead of the usual head and neck, was in place a gapping maw, rows of jagged teeth, and a long rough tongue. Its body was thick and muscular, with thin scrawny legs and arms, long fingers and sharp claw-like nails. Morris and Kitten ran with all they had, looking back to the body he asked.

"Is it going to eat her?"

"It's going to eat the games manifestation of her, she is safe."

Finding refuge in a building, they prepared for battle, Morris raised one of his handguns, looking at the door through the sights. A loud roar, came from somewhere inside the building; all the while Kitten calmly rested her back against a wall.

"Cannibals always like to get the jump on their opponents, so they never enter a building from the same entrance as their prey."

As the growling roars came closer, Kitten smiled.

"Just remember, this is a game."

Pressing a button in the center of her black belt, her body disappeared into the shadows and she was gone.

A door creaked from one direction and Morris turned quickly to prepare for an assault as a step echoed from another. He had been in some violent situations before, but monsters were new to him, and he felt that old, cold, fear creeping from his spine. It had been so long since he had felt like the victim. Morris slowly walked toward a faint sound of heavy breathing, his grip tightening around his gun as he peered down the dark hallway and beheld his hunter. The Cannibal faced him, from the other end of the hall, its body vibrating with animated anticipation. In the low light Morris surveyed the Cannibal, its eyes were shut and sown together with a black metallic thread, but by its movement, he could tell that it followed its hearing instead of sight. Morris removed a bullet from his gun, throwing it past his opponent, but the sound didn't even cause a flinch because the Cannibal was too focused on the pulsating sound of his heart. He drew his second gun as the beast readied itself to pounce, and opened fire as with thrusting speed it flew towards him, bouncing off walls and contorting itself to evade the bullets, but even those that hit did little damage. Releasing one of his guns, and drawing his sword, he ducked a quick swipe of the arm as the Cannibal rushed passed, its claws cutting into the ground as it tried to stop. Morris found himself fervently retreating down the hall under the constant barrage of the sharp-clawed blows, fencing was never his forte and a weak attempt at blocking was all he could muster. Cuts and bruises appeared on him as the Cannibal's attacks were too fast to visualize, and Morris knew that he had to change his tactics to achieve victory, or possible survival. He dropped to the ground, sweeping the legs from under his foe and as the body fell he brought his sword across it belly, cutting through the muscle and the blood was epidemic. Morris fell back to regain his bearings, taking a moment to prepare the finale, but the wound he had inflicted was not enough to stop the creature as it rushed toward him teeth first, his block was inadequate as the Cannibal bit down into his forearm and shoulder. The pain was excruciating as Morris tried to retaliate, but the weight of the Cannibal forced him to the ground, he understood why Kitten always took the easy way out, as he realized that the fight was over, and that he was just postponing his demise. The Cannibal suddenly began reeling, reacting from an assault from its side. Releasing Morris's arm it turned to the new threat as Kitten delivered a flying kick to its lower jaw. The beast went tumbling away, onto its back, as Kitten landed next to Morris.

"You ok?"

"WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU!"

Morris screamed at her as he clutched his arm, rising to his feet he stripped one of her silenced pistols from her hand, walking over to the Cannibal he unloaded the weapon in its face, Kitten walked beside him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"A confirmed kill, how's the arm?"

"It hurts, I wouldn't be surprised if it fell off in the real world. But where were you?"

"Would you rather it have been our kill, or yours?"

He thought about it for a second, "it doesn't matter, we're a team, and I'll have plenty of time to go trophy hunting later. This is about speed and efficiency."

Slate and Pain arrived as the dust settled, Slate looked him over, "spoken like a true Legatus, your still alive, I'm surprised." Bringing his hand to his ear, Slate informed the rest of the team of the success of the training exercise, and in light of Morris' injuries, he concluded that they were finished for the time being.

As the four of them walked down the city street, Morris entertained himself by watching his arm heal at an extremely rapid pace, he listened to Kitten, walking beside him, filling him in on random trivia about the game. At the moment, she was telling him about entering and exiting the game, and the use of the Space Drop Bunkers, or SDBs, usually referred to as 'bunkers'. A two story building like the one they started in, the first floor, a simple waiting room, consisting of random furniture, a teleportation pad in the middle, a computer monitor on the side (which is used to select the SDB that you are currently in), and of coarse, a front door. The second floor was dark and square, having no door, just the teleportation pad in the center, on one wall sat rows and rows of guns, and knives, and all weapons found in game, including the very cool boomerang, which hardly anyone ever used. To the left, sat the suits of armor, and all the regular armor pieces you found in the game. To the left again, sat the special armor pieces (like the ejectable blade in the gantlet, the dirk in the belt buckle, and the range-finder helmet), and attachable (like the radiation screen, map, and radio). To the final left, sat 'The Mirror' (as Kitten described it), the absolute coolest part of the game, which allowed one to adjust any and every part of the human anatomy, or even to add something inhuman, like doggie ears, or a tail. And if that weren't cool enough, underneath, 'The Mirror,' was a drawer that held the more delicate decisions of the game, including if the player used vulgar language, or if they wanted vulgarity to be muted. If the player wished to allow sexuality, or the extreme in that category, super titanium under panties, fused to the skin... for the intimacy-phobic...

Morris brought up the question that Kitten's tangent had begun.

"So how does one exit the game?"

Back to the description of the second floor, between the wall with, 'The Mirror,' and the wall with the weapons, sat what looked like a recliner, with a big red button on the armrest.

"That easy?"

"Pretty simple."

"You couldn't start with that?"

"And skip the description of 'The Mirror,'...?"

Kitten had been so over zealous in her SDB presentation, that she had not noticed where they were walking, she slowed to a stop, casting a vehement glare at Slate. The four of them stood in front of an extremely tall building with a strange blue glow on the top floor. Kitten turned away and Morris followed her.

"That, is were Trixy bought it."

"Bought it?"

"Kicked the bucket, took the last train, sailed away, bit the dust...?"

"What happened?"

"She fell into a programming error."

"I'm sorry."

"...She had tiny feet, but you have some big shoes to fill."

"I wont let you down, nor her memory."

The team exited the game the way Kitten had described, however the creepy recliner in the corner of the dark room was about as spooky as Morris could handle, and he decided to use his side arm the next time. As the dome helmet rose from his head, he tried to get out of his chair but slipped and fell, his back was sore, and every body part he had injured in the game ached. Slate and Bethany walked over to him.

"Whenever you get hurt in the game, your real muscles tighten as if it is them taking the punishment, the less you get hurt, the easier it is getting out of the chair. Great fight by the way."

Helping him off the floor Slate asked. "So how did you like your tour?"

Morris found his balance and began stretching his back and right arm, "It was awesome."

.

Bethany helped him keep his balance, and directed his hobble toward the elevators. She took him to the fifth floor of the right tower of the building, their 'hangout spot' as she called it, the eatery.

"Was that as bad as it gets?" Morris asked, "Was that the worst enemy?"

"My least favorite, but not the worst..."

"Which one is? The Murderer or the Psychopath?"

"The Psychopath is the worst enemy, it was designed because the team that rated the game said it was fun, but not scary. Their report stated that it was gory, violent, and provocative, and thus gave it an approval for young adults, and no one under sixteen was allowed to play it. But they went on to add in their review, that it was clear that the programmers tried to make it a horror game, but all it had were jumps, and tacky scares. To this, the programming team took offense, and brought forth a new enemy, the Psychopath. And now it's considered a horror game, the rating team said that it was not suitable for anybody to play, and should be banned. The developers were supposed to remove the enemy from the game, but instead they placed few of them in certain areas, you cant really run into them without looking for them."

"Have you ever fought one?"

"No, few people ever find one, but they usually stop playing the game soon afterwards, sometimes even seek psychiatric help. So we don't go looking for them."

"Why do they keep the enemy in the game, if it's that bad?"

"They say it's to make sure people remember that it's a horror game, I guess their pride is worth the few lawsuits a year that it costs them."

Their conversation strayed from the enmity of the game, to other game topics.

"So what is the medic position for?" Morris introduced, as he thought the faster healing was supposed to be enough.

"As you know, the body heals at a rate of one hundred times faster than in actuality. But only after the wound is finished being delivered, if for instance a claw is broken off while cutting into one's gut, and remains inside the cut, the wound will never heal because it is not finished being delivered, the claw is still cutting around in there. The same with bullets, if the bullet doesn't go all the way through, the wound wont heal. So for the most part, I do quick surgery. And while one hundred times faster is really fast, a wound that will take weeks to heal in real life, will take hours to heal in game, so I help with that as well."

"Yes but most games have a medical tablet, miracle cream, or something, is being a medic difficult?"

"Not too difficult, just tricky. I keep four types of tools on my belt, a surgeon's knife, with three different length attachable blades. A flashlight thingy which emits a blue light, called an Energy Transfer Cell Regenerator... or something like that, I don't remember the names of most of my stuff, which increases the already much faster healing rate by another one hundred times. Then I have another tool, which shines a red light, it heals wounds instantly by burning it shut, damaging the muscles, which then need to heal, its meant to stop bleeding. Then there are the two claws, small tools like the knife, with a claw at the end, meant for removing bullets and shrapnel, or holding wounds open and stuff like that."

"Cool."

"It's fun, the hard part is doing it in the middle of a fire fight, and of course the fact that no one will let me practice, so I have to wait until someone is messed up on the field were I can't make a mistake or anything... But it is nice to be a highly valued member of Sorrow."

"Sorrow?"

Bethany sighed at his ignorance, "Every Quiver has four Arrows, and calling them First Arrow, Second Arrow, and Third Arrow gets tedious, so we call them SArrow, TArrow, and FArrow.

"But there are two that start with 'F.'"

"Yea, we call the First Arrow, First, its less complicated than FArrow one and two."

"It still seems a little complicated."

"The Seven like it complicated."

Morris wondered if she had not answered his original question for a reason, or if it had just slipped her mind, and instead of using tact and subtly, he just asked again.

"Why did you call it sorrow?"

"Because of Trixy, she was the first death in the SWD post founding, and it hit everyone hard... Trixy never said her 'A's very well, so it always sounded like 'sorrow' when she said it... the name stuck."

Morris didn't want to upset her, or bring up bad memories, so he underhandedly changed the subject.

"So... how did your first training mission go?"

Bethany flashed a smile, "it didn't go quiet as easily as yours. Legatus Trixy sent Kitten and I to flank a group of Sinners (Morris didn't know what Sinners were, but didn't want to interrupt), but we ran into a Cannibal, and Kitten..."

"She disappeared."

"Yep, but not like she did with you... she didn't come back for me."

"I assume it wasn't quick."

"Unlike all of the other monsters in the game, Cannibals and Gluttons don't just kill you, they eat you afterwards. But there's a bug in the game, usually they go for the kill before feasting, but not with me. It attacked from behind, barely hitting me in the spine, and the amount of damage delivered directly to the spine result in that many seconds of paralysis, which in this case was nine seconds. The bug is, since the game monitors your physical body, (your vitals and heart beat are copied and added to your avatar) it can't use that to make sure your dead, so it uses movement, and since I couldn't move..."

"It skipped the killing part."

"It started with the feet, when I woke up I couldn't move for two days."

"I take it that's why you and Kitten don't get along too well."

"Where did that come from?"

"Its rare for the only two girls in a group to avoid each other so much, not to mention how easy it was for her to kill you."

Bethany feigned a laugh; "I don't like Kitten for other reasons."

"Namely?"

"Look, its really none of your concern..."

"If your 'dislike' doesn't stem from her leaving you to die a horrible gruesome death, than in must be worse. However since you show slight disregard for your relationship that just says that you don't have proof. Proof is usually only necessary for very bad things."

"Than let me ask you, do you think someone could really just fall into a programming error? I mean, Trixy was a lot of things, but she wasn't suicidal."

When Morris was in the force he had a problem with keeping his nose out of other peoples business.

"What makes you think Kitten pushed Trixy?"

"I don't know, because she was there when it happened, and she has never spoken well of her, and has been hateful of her, ever since."

But he wasn't in the force anymore, "I'm sorry, in the force I was a Murder Detective, I didn't mean to pry, its just what I used to do."

"Forget about it, its in the past now."

"How can you say that?"

"Trixy was our leader, she is what kept Sorrow together, and in some ways, she still is. If you dig around about this, it will only break the team apart."

"Don't worry, if I dig, I'll be discreet."

"Do me a favor? Don't be like the other cops that investigated this, more worried about the dead than the living."

"In the four years I was detective, I never was."

Bethany smiled in an unhappy way, devoted to changing the subject, "Do you have a place to stay around here?"

"Um, no. I was going to look for a place after I knew that I was staying."

"The team lives in a hotel near here, nine small rooms on the west wing. And since you're Trixy's replacement."

"I could never-"

"Don't worry, its not like you have a choice, you're part of the team now. That means you live on the ninth floor of the MaryAnne Hotel."

.

As Morris and Bethany exited the elevator on the ninth floor of the Hotel, they passed a man looking out of a window Morris recognized him from the team.

"He is the sensitive type," Bethany explained, "thus the ironic nickname 'Pain,' his real name is Adam White, don't interrupt his window time unless you want to listen to a deep thought of whatever he happens to be looking at now."

Morris wasn't listening to her, and walked beside him, "how's it going?"

"You know, they said that in the twenty second century we would have flying cars." He was watching the cars driving on the road below, Morris thought to himself, 'that's not very deep,' until Adam continued.

"I wonder if it's a response to social misfortune that makes people so wrong about the development of society. Possibly the making of heroes out of mortals, or too much faith in the system of education."

Morris tip-toed away, returning to Bethany, "I don't think that guy could harm a living thing, he seems so... docile."

"He is a pacifist, he was in an anti-military petition outside the SWD building when Trixy recruited him. She was like that, she never let you just believe something, she made you defend it, or change, she recruited her entire team. Well, most of us."

Further down the hall they came to room number five, she gave him the keys.

"Hope you like it, because each room is the exact same." She noticed him looking at the space of wall between the doors, "It is a hotel, but this floor has the small rooms for business and such, there also very cheap..."

He thanked her for the keys and everything else, opening the door he stepped into a very small, perfectly square room. Starting from his right, in the first corner was a desk, in the second corner was a dresser, in the third corner was a bed, and in the fourth corner was a plant. Being extremely tired from the day's events, he decided to keep his journal entry short. Removing from his pocket a small recording devise (one of the only things he had brought with him from home), he recorded the only thought on his mind:

"First day at my new job and I get a murder mystery, can't believe my cursed luck. Its like I just can't get away from it, can't forget. I guess its like they always say, 'you can't escape your demons.'"

.

Morris woke early in the morning, it was his new job tradition to wake early on the second day in order to give himself an 'office tour' (he despised asking for directions). As he entered the 'big H' as his new friends called it, he saw that it was just as lively at three in the morning as it was at five the night before, as though time didn't exist in the building. Sticking his head into the immersion bay, he saw that some chairs were being used. In the eatery, he saw one of the his Sorrow team-mates sitting at a table with someone he didn't recognize, even some of the offices had the lights on. On the directory he saw a few rooms on the upper floors on the left side of the 'Big H' were used for lectures, having nothing else to do he decided to check it out. A young woman with glasses sat in one of the lecture halls, with a book on her lap, perched on a desk, giving a lecture to a room full of three students, two of whom looked like janitors while the other one he recognized from the kitchen. Morris stood outside and listened, he had arrived at the beginning of a lecture on the origin of the game.

Immersion technology began in FourTech Home, as a phone/communication device, the technology was moved to FourTech Global, which works mainly with big things, from global transportation, to global security. It is assumed that the Immersion technology was used to further develop one of these fields. It remained in FourTech Global until funding ran flat, and then was moved to FourTech Gamming were the title Hell's Jurisdiction flashed across the news and then quickly disappeared. Some time later it resurfaced with the name Alien Anarchy, which fell short when it came to the storyboard, and was replaced with Epic Apocalypse. It was all FourTech could do to keep the title afloat, the story was good, but nobody knew how to pitch it. The biggest selling point of the game was the map, the copy of earth, but it was too big for the story. The point is, Epic Apocalypse fell flat in every theater of development until FourTech was forced to change it, and after months of debate and nearly half the leadership walking out, Hell's Jurisdiction reemerged. The basic story is thus, hell (Which is assumed to be a physical place, in the center of the earth), has a mutiny, a demon named Golgotha attempts to take Satan's thrown of hell by staging a mass jail break, spilling the prisoners onto the surface of the earth through volcanoes. The military retaliates by erecting large walls around the volcanoes, and placing most of their forces around them. Their error was that, when they killed a prisoner of hell, the soul returns to hell, and is placed into a new body, and since hell is not secured, the prisoner escapes again. The military gets overrun and destroyed, so they drop SDBs in strategic locations all over the earth so that civilians have a place to run and await rescue. That is the beginning story, but since the game started, about ten years ago, new and interesting twists have been found, like the company Futurek, a technology and weapons manufacturing company that secretly met with Golgotha before the prison break, and helped him in his plans to overthrow Satan in exchange for some of the resources of hell. At first it was assumed that Golgotha betrayed Futurek when he poured his prisoners onto the surface, but since then it has been found that Futurek was in on it from the beginning, using Golgotha's overtaking of hell in order to take over earth for themselves.

The woman wrapped up her short 'lecture' and her three 'students' left, leaving her alone reading the book, Morris slipped into the room to introduce himself.

"You must be Morris! I've studied... heard, so much about you."

"...um..."

She extended her hand, "Anne, the intelligence officer."

"Intelligence?"

"Among other things, I have a quite a few titles."

"Why does this place need an intelligence officer?"

"To keep the teams current on game developments and what to look out for while on missions, just last month somebody did a side mission that overflowed a city with Thieves. And we've been running a few missions over there so the teams had to change their approach."

"...I keep hearing the word 'missions' thrown around, what exactly do we do around here?"

"How do you not know that?"

"I needed a job and saw an opening here, I was expecting someone to fill me in, but I'm not really sure who to ask what..."

"We don't recruit in droves, so the Seven haven't approved the money to go to a trainings class, but someday they will, which is why I practice with the staff as my pupils."

"So what do we do around here?"

"I guess I should start from the beginning...

FourTech announced Hell's Jurisdiction two years before its release date in 2212, and began sales of immersion chairs immediately. The chairs weren't completely useless, they had some games on it, mostly sports: baseball, tennis, bowling, games with one person, or no real contact as NPC counteraction was slow and quite frankly spooky. They had these creepy smiles, and those eyes... freaky ass eyes... Continuing, two years after sales of immersion chairs began, Hell's Jurisdiction began. And on a completely different note, the GGS launched its brand new, super popular ANISU, Anti-Narcotics-and-Illegal-Substance-Unit, and the drug dealers and neighborhood gangs began to get their posteriors roundly beaten by the Authorities. The more prestigious drug dealers, and the bigger gangs, begot this brilliant idea to use the popular immersion game, Hell's Jurisdiction to conduct pretty much every part of their trades. They would meet in the game, have their little meeting, and log out. Until FourTech got greedy, and implemented their cash-cow, in game its called the Weapons Cache, dropped out of the sky like the SDB. How it works is this, your avatar's left hand is perfectly original, more so than a fingerprint, and cannot be hacked, so you place your hand on the screen, input your credit account number, and for a fee, get the more advanced guns and weapons in the game without having to find them yourself. And if you no longer want one, you can sell them for twenty five percent of your money back.

This is why FourTech asked the GGS to monitor Hell's Jurisdiction. Due to the insanely massive memory requirements for the game, FourTech couldn't monitor everything. So they introduced bats, small controllable creatures for use to monitor their product. They found most gang members, and charged fines to their credit accounts, but something didn't make sense. Most gangs just met in the game, but one gang, Black Blood, actually did business in the game. They were getting paid in guns, going to the Weapons Caches and exchanging them for money, so whoever they were doing business with, were either very rich, or really enjoyed scrounging. The official reason for the Second World Division is to track down Black Blood's employer, report them to FourTech, and assist in their complete elimination from Hell's Jurisdiction. Our missions are usually listening in and recording all of Black Blood's in game meetings, deduce what we can, and... well, act on it..."

"So what has the SWD done so far?"

"Pretty much nothing, when FourTech approached the Global Governing System, the GGS replied with 'Operation Phalanx' a team of three men to respond. The mission went horribly wrong, and there was only one survivor. FourTech suddenly informed the GGS that they had changed their mind, and didn't need us anymore, but the survivor demanded that the GGS not only continue, but also increase its presence in Hell's Jurisdiction, he said that he was onto something big. That was about ten year ago, and we really haven't found anything substantial. We've removed six gangs, forty-three drug dealers. We've run into Black Blood countless times, have some cool gunfights, but the employer always gets away."

"So we haven't really done anything."

"Nope."

"And FourTech doesn't want us anymore."

"Not for the last ten years."

"Than why are we still here?"

"FourTech wont do anything, because they don't want to get on the bad side of the GGS, and Sorrow keeps finding scraps of evidence here and there. We find one of their guns under a trashcan and we keep the building for another week, then we find out that it wasn't one of theirs and the game is on again."

"What about Black Blood?"

"Where as we do have some incriminating evidence against Black Blood, it's their employer FourTech wants. If we go after Black Blood, and take them down, we will loose our only lead, FourTech will have enough reason to shut us down without insulting the GGS, and they wont come back to us when the employer begins working with another gang. Our work is on thin ice as it is, we're only still around due to a very delicate balance of finding evidence and stalling for time."

Morris had a million more questions, but a message came in from Slate, something abut another training mission, he excused himself from Anne, reassuring her that he would be back for more answers. She seemed delighted to have a fourth student for her lectures. He found his way back to the elevator, and up to the immersion bay. Less than half the team had arrived when he entered, Slate was leaning beside his chair.

"You have to do another training mission before you can help with the real ones."

"So when are we going?"

"Right now, TArrow just found a Thief's hideout, I asked them to let us have it for your training."

"What kind of mission is it?"

"We get to go hunting."

.

Beth and Kitten took an especially long time getting ready for the mission. Morris had taken quite some time picking his choice of armaments, going with a mid range rifle, a side arm, a knife strapped to his leg, and the sword he had fallen in love with. He had taken longer than any of the other guys but still they waited for the ladies to finish. As always, the wait was worth it, and they appeared at about the same time, Bethany hadn't changed much of her outfit, just the colors, and she had shortened her hair, coloring it laterally like a rainbow. Kitten had changed nothing about her outfit, but had just played with her hair for the whole time; seven ponytails shimmered from her crown, four of them interbraided, hung to her thighs.

Way behind schedule, Sorrow meandered down the random streets, Slate had brought them to a country that Morris had never been to, and Morris had done a lot of traveling in his days in the GGS as a Squad Commander and later as a Murder Detective.

As they walked Slate told them of their target and battle strategy.

"Our target is located in the second tallest tower in this area. The target is a Thief, not a very tough enemy, but he's quick. A Thief can recruit up to three Sinners, but what you really have to watch out for when fighting one, is the spirit hands."

Morris was about to ask the obvious question, when Bethany approached him to explain.

"Supposedly when a thief goes to hell, the demons torture him by putting him in a room with lots of gold and jewels and precious metals. The demons also give him new hands, large hands, with fingers three feet long, the catch is, that the hands can't actually touch anything. Spirit hands, are blue, and almost completely transparent, whatever they pass through is completely frozen, which can block blood flow or even stop the heart, but show no physical appearance of any damage done."

Slate spoke on, "Our strategy is, Morris will lead two Militem into the building and drive the Thief up to the roof, I will lead the rest of the team to the roof via the fire escape on the side of the building. The Thief has exceptional hearing, and will probably order its henchmen to attack you as soon as you enter. When a Thief recruits a Sinner, the Sinner becomes smarter and a little stronger, there may just be three of them, but you still have to keep your guard up."

Sorrow approached the entrance to a large office building, mostly intact. Slate turned to Morris, "You need to choose two Militem to go with you."

Morris looked around the team, apart from Slate, Bethany, Pain, and Kitten, he didn't really know anyone. There was Bruce, Morris recognized him because Slate had pointed him out on the first mission, also because he was really big, muscles all over the place, as though one of his parents was a gym. There was a guy called Ezra, who had died in a group of three and wasn't one of the ones who came back, a middle aged, middle sized man, real somber looking, with a hint of a smile (and the whitest teeth he had ever seen, although it could have been the contrast with his skin). The other two, Morris had no recollection of names or anything, so he chose them. Slate was perplexed.

"You want them? The point is to take two guys whose particular set of skills give them an advantage against the opposition, I would recommend Pain and Bruce."

"This is just a training exercise," Morris replied, "I want to get to know my team and their fighting styles as soon as possible before any real assignments."

"Fair enough, Wraith is good for this, but King is a medium range specialist."

One of the guys had a rifle, and the other had a...coat, Morris assumed the guy in the coat was the Wraith, and the guy with the scope attached to his rifle was King.

"We'll be fine, just make sure that you're on the roof before the Thief gets there."

As Morris and the Militem entered the building, Slate gave the order for the rest of the team to move, and as they walked, Pain pulled him aside.

"Why is he taking them?"

"He wants to get to know the team, I think it's a smart call."

"Those two never knew Trixy, he might be looking for perspective. He was a Murder Detective, and Bethany just handed him a mystery, he's bound to be curious, bound to dig."

"Beth said that he said he wouldn't investigate."

"And you believe him? You're too trusting."

.

Morris walked through the dark and gloomy building; the Thief's henchmen were to attack at any moment. He looked at the men behind him, Jude King held in his hand a medium to long-range rifle, a handgun sat on his hip, and a knife was tied to his upper leg. Tobius Zain, also known as Wraith dressed in unusual light armor, and what looked like an upper-class leather coat over it. His armament included a single silenced light pistol, and a thin knife attached to his left for-arm. As they reached the first staircase, Morris began conversation.

"How long have you been part of Sorrow?"

Jude was the first to answer, "about four months."

Then Tobius, "About the same."

He directed the second question towards Tobius.

"Why the lack of a rifle?"

"My father was an interplanetary spy, and ever since the age of two, he trained me to follow his career path. I got comfortable with the concealed pistol."

As the trio poked and prodded around the second floor, Jude turned to Morris.

"Why would you choose a medium range specialist for this room clearing, up close and personal approach?"

Morris never did anything for one reason, but he didn't need them to know everything, "I want to get to know my team."

Tobius smiled, "we heard that you were running a full investigation on her disappearance."

"Disappearance?" Jude looked perplexed, "I heard that it was suicide."

Morris wanted to nip this rumor of an investigation in the bud, but apparently he was far too late for that.

"First of all! Kitten volunteered some information, and I asked Beth what, three questions? That is not an investigation! And secondly who did you talk to?"

Tobius had been practicing infiltrations with Pain, and Jude had been target practicing with Bruce. Morris decided to interview... have a chat with them next. They worked in silence, while clearing the next three floors, never once did they see a sign of the Thief, or a henchmen, however the building was fifteen storied tall.

Slate came in on the radio, informing the trio that they were in position.

"Have you done much work with Slate?" Morris directed this question to Jude.

"No, he hasn't really acknowledged me as part of the team yet."

"I have," Tobius took the question, "he is a good leader."

"Wraith got in good with Pain," Jude explained, "and Pain is Slate's right hand man."

"I'm sure Slate has his reasons," Morris dug deeper, "for not accepting you?"

"He still sees it as Trixy's team, so he's very hesitant about allowing admittance, he only notices you if the team asks him to, or if Adam White asks."

"Or if you're the son of the Communia," Tobius added, "Slate wasn't even informed of the decision to add you."

You have to hate when a relationship is screwed up before you even got there.

Morris didn't ask any more questions, and the trio continued their work in silence. As they entered the seventh floor, signs of hostile presence became visible. There were gouges in the walls, and the burnt, chaffed skin of the Sinners cluttered the floor like dust bunnies.

"Three floors of this eerie presence and still no action," Jude commented as they entered the tenth floor, "Thieves have excellent hearing, it should know that we're here."

"Maybe an ambush has been set," Tobius holstered his gun and drew his knife, "with so many hallways and corridors, we can be certain that the attack will come from the flank."

As they approached the stairs to the eleventh floor, Morris began to grow impatient, turning to Jude, he commented, "How much do you want to bet that we're in the wrong building?"

Jude smiled, and began to answer as one of the Sinners broken through the ceiling, crashing in front of him. He jumped back, but was too late, the monster lunged at him, slamming him into the ground. Morris brought his rifle up, firing three bursts into it. As the creature fell, the other two jumped in from the hole in the ceiling, the first charged Morris, knocking the rifle from his hands. The second fell on Jude, bearing its teeth, it lunged for his neck, as Tobius assaulted it from the side. Caught under the monster's weight, Morris held off the finishing blow, with one hand he kept the neck and head at bay, with the other he reached for his knife. Burying the blade in the chest of the Sinner he pushed it away, bringing up his handgun and opening fire upon it.

Tobius crouched over the body of his opponent, as Jude slowly picked himself off the floor. This being his first contact with a Sinner, Morris took a second to observe them. All three had the same build, and bone structure, neither male nor female. Third degree burns covered their entire bodies, and signs of torture were prevalent, the left arm of one appeared to have been shredded with razors, and half of another's face was missing. The third had a screw through the nerve cluster of the shoulder. Jude walked beside him, "don't pay too much attention to them, it will make you sick."

Morris put his hand to his radio, "First contact, all three Sinners are done, and the Thief should be on its way to you."

"We're ready."

Morris and the others ran up the stairs, rushing though the remaining four floors. They heard the yell of 'Contact!' on the roof thought the radio, seconds later followed by Slates voice, "hold position, Morris, its going back." He came to an abrupt halt, and all three of them brought their guns to bear as the Thief appeared. Its eyes seemed to bulge from its head, as its eyelids had been ripped away. Its body was thin, and all of its skin had been removed as though with a dull blade. The Thief moved like lightning, its spirit hands appeared like the essence of cold, fingers spread like wings. The three opened fire, but to no avail, ducking and weaving, the Thief approached. Compared to the speed of the Thief, the Cannibal moved like melted metal, and the Sinners like molasses. It tore past him, its fingers passing through his body and the flesh in their paths was frozen. Morris fell to his knees, the fingers had missed his heart but he could barely move, and the freezing pain was nigh unbearable. As the creature passed him Wraith moved in for close combat, getting in quite a few stabs and cuts before a hand passed right through his face. He fell dead instantaneously, and the Thief moved on to King. He opened fire, but wasn't quick enough for a close fight, the whole hand passed through his gut, just under the diaphragm and the Thief passed on. Morris' wounds had thawed enough to move, and he hobbled over to King. His vitals were passable, but neither of them were in a fighting spirit, taking a seat near him, Morris called Slate over the radio.

"Yea...that didn't work..."

"You guys ok?"

"It was a painful experience."

"Should have told you not to engage in melee."

"That would have been helpful."

King took a few deep breaths, hitting Morris in the arm.

"I'm ready to go, you?"

Morris hoped that he would have been out of commission for a lot longer. This hundred time faster healing did have some drawbacks. The two of them stood arduously and staggered down the hallway like drunk old men. Morris informed the rest of the team on their progress, "We'll be there next year or so."

.

Slate and the rest of Sorrow reached the front entrance just before the Thief. Stopping at the entrance, Slate ordered the others to engage while he, Pain and Bethany sat outside. Morris and King tottered down the stairs as quickly as they could, hearing Slate over the radio, "Keep your guard up Ezra, you got to be faster Bruce!... watch your left watch your left!"

"You've healed up better than I have," King was still weak from the frozen belly, "go on ahead, I'll be there." Morris went, his health improved and injuries healed, flying down stairwells with the speed of a hoarse.

"Guard Ezra, Guard! Kitten get back in there! No guns, practice your foot work!"

Morris arrived just in time to see Bruce's body hit the ground, flying into the fight he threw his weight against the Thief, saving Ezra from a death blow as Slate continued his commentary. "Great hit Morris, love the enthusiasm!"

"Shut up and get in here you idiot!"

Slate looked to Beth and Pain finding no objections, "all right, watch and learn."

Handing his rifle to Pain and his helmet to Bethany, he stepped into the room with a demanding stride, with a deep breath, he closed his eyes. A blue spark flashed from his ankles, igniting his body in flame. With inhuman speed he flung himself into the enemy slamming an open palm into its chest, and the force alone sent it crashing into the far wall. Slate turned to Morris with a conceited tone, "fast enough for you?"

The Thief crawled out of the wall unperturbed, and with little if any damage. Morris knew that Slate was just showing off. As the monster rushed, Slate retaliated with an excessively lavish display of superiority. Pointless movements to show off his escalated speed, close call evasions to show off his increased quickness, and Herculean acts of strength to show off the overpowering usefulness of the flames. Morris watched like a little boy being introduced to magic. With a final and intricate move, Slate threw the Thief into the wall. His flames went out, and he stood still, watching the Thief struggle to exit the wall, like a statue he watched it rise to its feet, let out a spine chilling scream and come rushing towards him. As the Thief drew closer, Slate's hand went from hanging limply at his side, to straight out in front with his finger on the trigger, without a frame in between. The bullet hit perfectly between the eyes and the monster fell at his feet. Flipping the gun through his fingers he slipped it into the holster.

"Practice makes perfect," he said as he stepped outside, handing high-fives to the team all around.

.

Sorrow walked down the street celebrating their victory and their fearless leader. Morris and Slate walked in the back.

"So what was that?"

"Fire."

"I got that part, how does it work?"

"To be honest I don't know, I guess its kind of when you really get into the game, really plug in. Something happens, and the game reads it as fire."

"That easy?"

"Yea, well no, see Trixy helped me, and she didn't really know either. She explained it as igniting emotions, but her fire was red. Mine is blue so I'm guessing it's igniting something else."

"...What?"

"Not sure, but I think it's the knowing that it is a game, like realizing it."

"And how do you ignite a realization?"

"No clue, after you do it so many times it just becomes second nature."

"So how did you do it the first time?"

"...It just happened... during a fight."

"...Ok... so how about that cool gun trick?"

"That one is easy to explain. In the real world, your muscles can only move so fast, going to fast would cause tares in the muscle tissue, and just more stress than the body can take. In the game however, there is no limit to speed, with enough practice, you can do pretty much anything."

The two walked side by side for quite a while, Slate deep in thought about what Pain had said before. The last thing Slate wanted was to have this conversation, but as the team's leader, he knew that sooner or later he would have to deal with this, Morris stirring up the remains of the old wound of Trixy's end.

"I heard that Kitten and Beth brought you up to speed about the other Legatus."

"That and more."

"Yea, Beth is kind of judgmental."

"Well I don't know enough to give an opinion."

"What do King and Zain think?"

"Lets just say everybody has a different opinion, its kinda getting interesting."

"Look, I know it might be tempting, being a Detective and all, to find something like this. But this is not something you should dig into."

"Why? What do you think I'll find?"

"...That really doesn't matter."

"Wait, are you threatening me...?"

They came to a stop, "Yes, Morris, you don't want to do this."

"Do you really want to challenge me on this, Slate? If you have something to confess, doing it now would save us both time and effort, and will save you from some pain. Or do you think you could possible win?"

"...It doesn't matter, some things are worth the risk."

Slate walked away, leaving Morris to his thoughts. One of the things Morris hated about his work as Murder Detective was how much he loved this part of it. The hunting, the battle of wits, strategy, and in the end, the victory. He felt like a predator, and what hero loves the violence, they're supposed to love peace. What he hated was that when he really got into it, he forgot about being the good guy. But Slate was different, not sly, not duplicitous or dishonest. He seemed more friendly and protective; Morris had so much to learn about his new opponent. He smiled; this was going to be fun. From the shadows behind, Kitten crept up to him.

"Didn't expect that one."

"You were watching?"

"How could I miss that?"

"So what can I expect from him?"

Kitten walked around beside him, pondering how to answer, "Slate is the kind of guy who will slit your throat in the real world as soon as he would in this one. But he'll wait till the last possible moment in both. Don't corner him, you'll regret it."

"I take it your on my side?"

"Definitely not on his."

He could have gotten loads more from her, but he didn't want to spoil the fun of a good hunt, he could always talk to her again later. So he decided to change the subject with on that his curiosity had been killing him over since the day before.

"How does that belt work?"

She smiled, as she loved talking about her equipment, "It's a light reflector, it takes all light that touches me and reflects it evenly in all directions. So if I'm in shadow, I disappear, since there is no light to reflect, the game doesn't show me at all, but in the light, I glow."

"So if somebody points a flash light at you while you're in shadow..."

"Like a light bulb."

"Every tool needs its drawbacks, where did you get it?"

"Killed a gamer..."

"So how come, after all the times you've killed yourself, nobody has ever stolen it back from you?"

"Because I don't have it listed as special armor, just as clothing, it's a bug in the game. I sowed it to my other belts, which made it a part of my appearance, and not a weapon that I am wearing. The only draw back is that now I cant change my appearance, without finding more thread and sowing something new."

"So how long have you been wearing that?"

"Forever..."

"Common, how long?"

"Two weeks."

.

Slate approached the library, where Anne usually spent her time. After what happened with Trixy, their relationship fell, and has never recovered. He found her in the history section, probably her favorite place in the 'H.'

"Anne."

"..."

"Its... good to see you again."

"What do you want."

"You know that Morris is running some kind of investigation."

"Yes."

"And at some point in time he will come to you with some questions."

"He's already been here, talked to him about history, it was fun."

"I would like it if you didn't say anything to him about her."

"I will say what I want to say, about whatever I want," she extended one hand and began examining her fingernails, "now what I want, is a matter of monetary debate."

"Twenty units of credit say that he doesn't learn anything."

"Fifty."

"Twenty five."

"Forty nine."

"Twenty and a pair of shoes."

"Sold, I will tell him everything he wants to know, but nothing he needs for his little investigation."

"Thank you Anne."

"If there is nothing else, please go."

As he turned to leave, Anne looked to him.

"I don't know what she saw in you Slate."

"Will you never forgive me?"

"For what you did to my sister, never."

"I trusted her."

"Tell yourself whatever you want, but where were you when she needed you? Too busy being indecisive."

"What could I have done?"

"...I blame you for her death."

"...Anne..."

"You're still here?"

Victory at a cost, this is how most conversations went between Anne and Slate, and he never stopped asking himself, why he kept trying. Slate left without another word after listening to Anne's cold farewell, she turned back to her fingernails, sniffling, as her eyes turned red.

As Slate left the library, his phone lit up with a call from Rage, and in minuets he was standing in the immersion bay in front of the team, explaining the mission.

"FArrow tracked one of the Black Blood members into a secluded place where he stole what looked like a disk-cassette, as these things should have no place in the game, FArrow engaged him and took it. It is assumed that the theft of the disk-cassette triggered something because a few members of the Assistance attacked FArrow."

Morris raised his hand, "Who is the Assistance?"

"As far as we know, the Assistance works for Black Blood's employers, however, with this new development, FArrow thinks that the Assistance might even be Black Blood's replacement. FArrow lost five guys in the attack, and all but one since, our mission, is to rendezvous with TArrow, get the disk-cassette from FArrow and get it the hell out of there. Dux Timmy is leading First to find some way of reading it, as most technology has been destroyed over the game's storyline. Luke's Quiver has been informed but won't be able to help." He turned to Kitten, "we are probably going to need sniper support for this one," to Morris, "go with her and keep her safe."

They logged on, and suited up, gathering together in the waiting room. When they were all ready, Slate chose the location on the computer monitor, a big city that none of them had ever been to before. Kitten brought up her query to Slate.

"Where should I set up, to cover you with sniper support?"

"Find a high position, do what you can."

"Sure thing, you know Slate, I don't remember you ever sending someone to 'keep me safe' before."

"Just go find you're high position."

"Whatever you say."

The team walked away, leaving Kitten and Morris at the SDB, as they made their way down the street, closer to their target, Slate pulled Pain aside.

"What do you think of 'Legatus Taylor'?"

"A sharp knife, with no point."

"...You were right, he is not going to walk away from this, probably think it his duty to investigate."

"No doubt."

"He's going to try to interview you."

"I know."

"Don't tell him anything."

Pain looked at him, "You've sacrificed enough, if you go down I will kill him."

"Just trust me, you're the only one who I've told what happened, if you don't talk he will have to give up on it."

"Anne knows, and Anne talks."

"Morris wont be able to get anything out of her, and even so, I talked to her."

"She's lightening up on you?"

"Not at all, to be honest it was kind of painful."

There was silence between them before Pain replied.

"This is a dangerous game you're playing, but I'm sure you will win."

"I don't want to win, I want him to give up. But if I have to, I will."

.

Morris stood around long after Slate and the rest of the team left, watching Kitten play with a little GPS looking device.

"It seems we have a nice tall building just a few blocks away."

"That's what you were doing all this time? There are buildings all around us."

"But this one is one of the tallest."

They began a totally boring walk that lacked anything interesting whatsoever, until they approached the base of the building.

"I guess this is where my job comes into play?"

"Actually Slate just wanted to get rid of you."

"I thought so!"

"Yep, you're a nuisance."

Morris attempted to change the subject from his usefulness, "so is this sniping gig any fun?"

"For the sniper, I'd imagine you're going to be quite bored with it."

"You never use a spotter?

"A what?"

The two of them crept into the building, making their way through the lobby.

"For the most part, just Thieves make permanent residence in tall buildings," Kitten explained, "but you can run into pretty much anything in places like this."

"Are Psychopaths part of that anything that we can run into?"

"Psychopaths? No, technically they are supposed to be banned from the game, but the programmers kept them to ensure the games listing as horror. They are placed in specific locations, usually deep, but always dark. You cannot run into them without looking for them." They walked slowly through the building, past the elevators toward the stairwell. Morris had seen from the outside of the building, that it was a very long climb up.

"Why don't we just take the elevator?"

"Because elevators are little boxes that you cant see out of, you don't stay on the top of the list of least deaths by taking stupid risks."

"You're on the top of the list? How many deaths."

"Zero."

"But you kill yourself."

"That's suicide, and yes I'm near the top of that list too."

"I don't get it."

"I don't make the charts, I just top them."

A screaming yell came from the floor above, and Kitten smiled.

"That's one of the bugs in the game, getting too close to a Thief, triggers a charge attack, and it always yells before charging. However, getting two close to a Thief is within twenty one feet," she pointed to the ceiling which was less than twenty one feet away, "if you pass beneath it, you get this wonderful warning."

Morris heard footsteps coming from the floor above, but it wasn't one pair, it sounded closer to four, Kitten commented on the sound.

"Sounds like a Thief and its henchmen, this should be fun."

"But it took the whole team to take on one Thief before!"

"No it didn't, Slate doesn't like us using weapons unless it's about speed or one on one. But you can use your weapons this time, have fun!"

He was going to tell her that he used his weapons last time, but she had already disappeared, the footsteps had already reached the stairwell and he saw them come around. Raising his gun he opened fire and the bodies fell, until he realized that there were four Sinners and the Thief was not with them. Two of the Sinners had fallen and the others bore down upon him, when he heard the Thief behind him, he turned just it time to duck one of its spirit hands. Before he had time to react he was in a three on one fight for his life, ducking and weaving in his constant attempt at retreating. His rifle had been snatched by one of the Sinners (which was using it as a club) while his side arm was broken along with his hand. His retreat had found him against the stairs, facing the end of this play session until Kitten returned with an attack of the enemies flank, killing the Thief first and then cleaning up the Sinners.

"You didn't abandon me, I have to admit I'm surprised."

"Don't flatter yourself, I need you to cover me."

"Sorry, I just figured you were looking out for me, but it seems you're just as much a cat as everybody says you are."

"Who do you thing coined the name?"

"Kitten?"

"No."

"Stealth cat?"

"Yea, Trixy didn't like the term bitch."

"Why would you want to be known as a bitch?"

"I wasn't a great person when she recruited me."

"Wait... You're not a great person now...!"

There was little if any action on the rest of their trip as they made their way to the top of the building, and began setting up in one of the roof corners. Kitten took the sniper rifle from her back, as Morris watched her prepare it.

The folded up weapon was about three feet long, with an extra two-foot barrel, attached to the bottom, that snaps out and screws into the front. The rifle that she used, only loaded one round at a time, so she attached the ammunition holster that usually goes onto the belt, onto the gun itself. Morris sat by, idly watching. When she finished assembling the rifle, she began firing, Morris looked to where she was firing, but didn't see any bodies.

"What are you shooting at?"

"Light poles."

"...Ok."

They both watched as some random gamer, sauntered out into view; Kitten quickly raised her rifle, letting off one round. They watched as the bullet tore through his shoulder as she fired twice more, blowing both knees almost simultaneously. With one arm he pulled himself toward the protective cover of a light post, as five feet from his head a poof of dust rose, he continued as a bullet struck four feet away. The gamer was flopping at max speed by the time the bullet struck one foot from his head, but he was too far from cover, he didn't make it.

"That was cruel."

"I know, but I need the practice."

"So, how does in game sniping work?"

"Its pretty simple, line up the cross hairs, pull the trigger, watch the bodies fall."

"That easy?"

"Yes, in Alien Anarchy, and Epic Apocalypse, there was supposed to be a lot more, like wind direction, gravity, bullet speed, just more realistic. But Hell's Jurisdiction is more of the overwhelming enemy presence, mere aiming and shooting before the enemies get to you was supposed to be the challenge."

"That still sounds too easy."

"It is; that's why they introduced radiation."

"...Like the more you shoot, the higher your risk of getting cancer?"

"Its like a bubble, every sniper rifle has a different output, this one is five yards. So every time I fire, the radiation bubble grows by five yards, and it shrinks at the rate of one inch per second." She removed from her belt, what looked like a GPS, "most snipers have a radiation detector, so they can manage their radiation bubbles, and so they can see who's shooting at them, and were from. Which was still too easy, at this point the only fear a sniper had, was another sniper, so they spiced it up a little, and gave an undervalued enemy the ability to sense radiation, since the Glutton is usually found underground, the only time you run into them, is pretty much just when your looking for them, and this was a good way of making it a more common enemy. So now, when you fire, every Glutton inside your radiation bubble, comes running, and they run to the center of the bubble."

"You?"

"The gun, which is not a big deal to us, because this rifle is one of the weapons provided us, and when we die, we still have it. But if a gamer were to die, they'd loose everything on them, except they're look, clothes, or armor, that kind of stuff you keep."

"So being a sniper isn't easy anymore."

"It kind of a catch twenty-two, the higher up you are, the more shots you can fire before the Gluttons come, but there's only one way down from a tall building, and that's the same way the Gluttons are coming. So most people just slap a scope on a rifle, and just call themselves a sniper."

As they wrapped up their conversation, Bethany came in over the radio.

"Are you in position yet Kitten?"

"Well, I'm in a position, but I can't see you."

Time passed before she got an answer, "Cover us."

"Where are you?"

No reply came as Kitten shot at some hapless individuals strolling down the street.

"Kitten we need sniper cover!"

"I can't see you!" She turned to Morris, "Why have a sniper in a city district? I can't see anything."

"We're dying over her!"

Kitten pointed her gun to the sky, letting off three shots, "There, you happy?"

"KITTEN!"

She went on shooting random targets, muttering under her breath.

"Slate said get a high position, I get a high position, cant see a thing, but I'm really high up!"

"Where are you Kitten?"

She looked at her surroundings, "I'm on a tall building."

"Stop goofing around, what's across from you?"

"...What do you think is across from me...?"

"Kitten, common!"

"It's another tall building!"

"What building? I need names!"

"I can't see any names on any buildings!"

"ANYTHING!"

"Its ugly, does that help?"

"KITTEN YOU-."

Gunfire interrupted as Bethany fell and the line was gone, Kitten turned to Morris.

"I did the best I could, all he said was get a high position."

"I keep telling him his plans suck."

"He probably just forgot the whole, line-of-sight part of sniping."

"...Was that a joke?"

.

The latest survivors of the rapidly failing mission bunkered down on the front steps of some government building, hiding behind seemingly randomly placed statues decorating the front entrance. Enemy fire tore into their cover and it was obvious that in their currant position they would be overrun. They had to keep moving.

"Is she ok?" Slate hadn't seen the exact amount of bullets that had torn thought their medic. Wraith ran to her side, "She's down." He said, grabbing the disk-cassette that she had been appointed to carry. They fell back under cover as a fresh volley came at them.

"Fall back!" Slate ordered the retreat into the building, "Bruce and King cover, everyone else fall back! Heads down, try not to get hit."

They moved flawlessly, finding new cover inside the building and providing cover fire as Bruce and King followed them. Together they all ran through the building, most of Sorrow, three members of TArrow, and the lone survivor of FArrow. Slate followed behind as rear cover, while Legatus Nicolas of TArrow took the lead.

"Is this the right direction to get through?" Slate yelled from the back.

"I think so!" He replied.

"Good enough, Wraith you have the cassette?"

"Affirmative!"

Nicholas led them deeper and deeper into the building, keeping his fingers crossed as he guessed his way to the rear exit.

"Hopefully there aren't any Master Thieves held up in here!"

"Don't jinx it Nick!"

Monumental roars came form the floors above them as they slowed to a walk; they were entering into a large conference room, with four stairwells leading to the upper levels. As they came to a stop in the center, Nicolas was the first to say something.

"I jinxed it, but we can't stay here."

"Yea?" Slate's rebuttal, "they have our sent, if we go we wont make it. We have to split up, one team stays, covers our exit, while the rest of us keep moving."

"So," Nicholas turned to the group, "who's staying?"

Getting ripped apart by teeth and claws, or probably getting ripped apart by bullets, not much of decision, Pain stepped out alone.

"I'll stay."

Slate looked over the team, "alright! Pain stays, everyone else move out!"

"Wait wait wait," Nicholas pulled him aside. "Just one guy?"

"Not just one guy, Pain."

"You think he can hold them off for enough time?"

"I think he can take them."

The rest of the team headed for the exit, Slate was the last to leave the room.

"Hey Adam," he removed his helmet, placing it in the corner, facing the center of the room, "I'm going to have to watch this," and he left after the rest.

Pain stood, in the center between the four stairwells, listening to the oncoming hordes. He looked at his armaments; Slate had told him that this was going to be a high-risk mission, meaning probable death. And that the mission was not of the importance to dress in their 'finest.' He didn't have his sword, or his boomerang; he had brought a short to medium range rifle, a side arm, and only three of his usual seven knives. He had one of his two thin wrist knives, one of the two thick curving blades he usually kept strapped to his back, and only one of the three throwing knives he had strapped horizontally to his left thigh. Of all the weapons he would have brought to this fight, he didn't have any of his preferred.

He raised his rifle, and quickly began dispatching some of his many foe, they included mostly Sinners, with Gluttons and Cannibals mixed in. He continued firing until they grew very close, using his rifle as a melee weapon he thrust it through the mouth of one enemy, and empting the magazine into the opponents behind it. Removing the knife he had strapped to his back, and his side arm with his other hand, he fought on. But they were closing in too fast, "I deny." The room began to grow colder and colder, and as it did so he grew faster and stronger. Frost radiated around him and as the temperature dropped his enemies began to slow, but it wasn't enough, there were just too many for a little speed boost to counter. Pain fell back from the pressure of his opposition, yelling at the top of his voice, "I REJECT!" The cold temperature remained, but time itself seemed to slow as a Glutton jumping from a few stories up slowed to half speed in its decent. The closer to Pain the creature was, the more the time dilation affected it. Everything slowed, everything but Pain himself, launching his own obliterating assault. Ducking and dodging his enemies, because even though they were slowed, the force of their attacks were not, as they were just programs of the game that was feeling the effects of his powers. But even with his overwhelming authority on the battleground, the strain was overpowering, and his enemy's speed was slowly returning to them. From their numbers alone, he could not see if their source was depleted, or if any more were descending from the upper floors. He had not seen any of the Master Thief's guards, usually the like of Murderers, and enhanced Cannibals. Nor had he seen the Master Thief itself, but he couldn't wait any longer, he fell to one knee, concentrating as the creatures approached closer and closer. "Conclude," he spoke quietly and the cold air froze, along with everything around him, all his enemies shattered to fine ice, and the ice just disappeared. Leaving him alone, exactly where he began, in the center of the four stairwells, completely exhausted. He knelt there for a while, trying to catch his breath, his vigor and strength had yet to return to him, but his opponent would not wait. The Master Thief crashed before him, and eight Murderers surrounded him, it was all but over but he never left without a fight, "Denied."

.

As Pain fought, the rest made their way to the side exit, a simple light door made for the use of upkeep staff. Nicholas peeped his head out.

"It looks clear, but we can't be sure with all these buildings around."

Wraith poked his head out, "That building across the street."

"What about it?"

"It's the ugliest building I've ever seen!"

"Is that really relevant right now?"

"It's the last thing Kitten said, something about a real ugly building."

Slate looked around the group, "it's all we got." He turned to Nicolas for input.

"Fifty percent pain, here we come."

They headed out in a dead run, while the remnants of TArrow covered them from the doorway. It had seemed like a good plan until they saw, flying towards the doorway, a rocket-propelled grenade. No time to warn them, no time to duck, the doorway exploded and their cover fire along with it. Sorrow ran towards the ugly building as gunfire flashed from its windows.

"Their inside the building!" The sad and lonely FArrow member shouted.

"Too bad!" Was Slate's reply, "We're committed."

As they bulldozed across the street, into the oncoming ocean of bullets, their numbers dwindled. Bruce was the first to fall; the partnerless FArrow member fell with a well-aimed shot through his chest. The team blew into the building like a raging tide, a swift and tactical battle followed as they cleared the entrance. Slate went about setting up defenses, securing their hopeless position, before making plans for their desperate charge.

.

Morris watched Kitten, brutally executing a pair of young love birds out on a stroll, probably just meeting in the game so they could be close to one another. They died in each other's arms...

The radio crackled back to life, as Wraith's voice came over.

"Judging by your description, we think were in the building next to you, any help would be appreciated."

Kitten answered with her usual attitude.

"May I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"How do you expect sniper cover when you're inside a building?"

"We're in a hallway, and coming to windows, you should be able to see us soon."

"How many enemies?"

"At least a hundred."

She turned to Morris, "What do they expect me to do against a hundred? This thing shoots one bullet at a time!"

The two of them watched the window for a minuet, but just as the team made it into view, a loud banging came from the door.

"Um, guys...?" Kitten spoke over the radio, "you're on your own."

"WHAT!"

"We got company, got to go!"

"What have you been shooting at all this time?!"

"Oh, just some light poles, and pedestrians."

As the door began to give, Kitten jumped onto the rail of the building, Morris noticed that running down her right leg was a thin rope, connected to a little metal anchor on her shoe; a spool was attached to her belt. With a quick tap step, she drove the anchor into the rail, and as the door collapsed, and the Gluttons rushed in, she gave him a wink and a wave, "See ya!" And dove off the edge. Gluttons were some of the weakest enemies of the game, holding the appearance of a blend, between a dog and a toad, quick and lethal, but couldn't take much damage, Morris held them off with his rifle on full auto, but they were gaining. They slowly closed in, growing ever closer during Morris' reloading, a single Glutton leapt towards him as he brought his rifle up. As the fight continued, the rope snapped taunt, stretching like a bungee cord. Missing his shots the monster bit down on his gun and arm with its powerful jaws, and it was all he could do to hold the beast away as the others fell upon him. The rope began to regress, growing slack. Tearing into his legs, ripping into his arms, one even locked onto his side, it was hopeless, he couldn't reach his side arm, and his sword was halfway down the throat of one of his eaters. As the pain seemed to climax, the bungee cord brought Kitten flying over the railing, with her two pistols in hand, brilliantly dispatching all but one of the Gluttons at the Morris buffet, and cleaning up the remainder of the ones on the roof. She landed gracefully, and watched Morris throw off his assailant, retrieving his sidearm, and killing it. As Morris lay there, he noticed his right hand was missing, and his left arm was torn to the bone, he couldn't move his legs, and his side was bloody. Kitten approached, and knelt beside him, "You ok?" He motioned to the building where the team was last seen; she gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and went to her rifle. Through the scope, she saw Slate, Ezra, and a severely wounded Wraith, in the middle of a hallway, with members of the Assistance (the numbers of whom Wraith had greatly exaggerated) closing in on both sides. Morris watched her put her gun down as she turned to him. "Oh they're screwed."

.

As the two of them walked along the path, contemplating their team's total annihilation, Morris wasn't listening to Kittens description of their military strategies.

"So how come you guys don't have any formations?"

"We do, we just don't use them very often."

"Exactly my point, there's no structure here at all, it's like your military training has grown soft."

"Well we're not soldiers, the leadership of SWD had the brilliant idea of hiring normal people for the job, so they don't have to pay us military rates. Despite the fifty percent pain, they thought that there was no real risk involved with the job... until Trixy... She showed them all right... I'm happy, though, that they hired us instead of military personnel, because my life wasn't going anywhere when she recruited me. When she recruited me, I was getting drunk at a bar; she left her table and her friend and sat next to me. I told her to get lost and she apologized... said I looked like a good friend of hers that she had just met. She was like that, she could just see people, for their strengths, completely oblivious to their weaknesses." Kitten paused for a second before continuing, "that was, until she flopped through the programming error like a bitch with no sense..."

Kitten was hard to read, "What happened back then?" He asked her.

"...Slate happened."

It was just two words, but two were enough. They had reached the house when Morris noticed, Kitten hadn't removed her mask, and they were the last to leave the game.

.

Morris was the first to wake, and so he saw everything, Slate standing in front of Kitten's chair as she woke up.

"I didn't kill Trixy."

The air was thick with feelings as the two stood; Morris concluded that the chance of violence was low. Kitten turned and walked away, "Yes you did." And that was it; Kitten went to the elevator on one side, Slate to the elevator on the other, leaving Morris there.

"Wait, that's it?" The doors closed and they were gone, and Morris sat there like he had missed a show, he didn't want them to fight, but a little yelling wouldn't have hurt, a nice argument.

"You wanted more?"

Morris wasn't alone in the room; he hadn't noticed Ezra, who had just finished cleaning his chair.

"Nothing violent, I just want to know about her death."

"I believe what I've heard, and I know what I've seen. I'll tell you what I told the last cop who investigated this tragedy."

"Whatever you could remember would be helpful."

"Nothing."

"Why not?"

"Trixy held this team together, and she still does, we all put one hundred and ten percent into this because that's what she would have wanted. And if you destroy what she worked for, I just might kill you."

He had heard this before, it seemed like every member of her team were emotionally tied to this but not willing to share. Not because they were all in on it, but because they really cared for their deceased leader. Morris began to wish that he had met Trixy; she seemed like an amazing person.

"Tell me about her."

"You want me to squeal on Kitten?"

"No, I want to know more about Trixy, before she died."

Ezra smiled, "Trixy was an amazing woman, and a great leader. She was soft, and approachable, she never gave a threat, never even raised her voice. She didn't have to raise her voice, every time she gave an order that wasn't popular, Slate would put his hand on his gun... those two were inseparable, her motto was 'stand together, or go to hell.' Loosing her shook up the whole team, some show it more than others, but everybody feels it, I don't think this hurt will ever go away."

The two of them took their conversation to the eatery, as that is the common place for masculine discussions. Morris began the interview with a very personal question.

"You're, older than most of Sorrow, and members of the other Arrows."

"I had other plans for my life."

"I'm guessing military."

"I served twenty years in the GGS, a Major of the Authorities."

"Why did you get out, why are you here? The pay is much less."

"Sacrificed for love."

"Must have been some girl."

"Oh she was... My company was stationed in a Martian penal colony, when I met her; she hated her job of giving the scum of the earth psychiatric help, and wanted to get out so badly. We fell in love in one of the ugliest places in the universe but it was love nonetheless. I had saved up quite a bit of money in my eighteen years so I bought a little house back on earth, and she moved there, got a better job at a restaurant and waited for me. We had talked many times about this but I wanted to be in the GGS for life, saw myself running the place in the far future. She wanted a husband who would come home every night. I stalled the conversations as long as I could, but eventually she made me choose, I thought about it long and hard for two months, decided that I loved her more than my job, loved her more than anything. So I took the necessary steps to get out, would have taken the better part of a year, but after burning a few bridges, I cut it down to just a few months. I sent her a message saying when I'd be home and left. I spent all my money paying off the house and setting up a perfect life, but I hadn't actually spoken to her in about five months. When I got to the steps of my house I saw piece of paper taped to the door, 'you took too long' it said, that's when I noticed the 'for sale' sign in the front lawn. I left with nothing but my car and the cloths on my back."

"That bitch!"

"Tell me about it."

"So what did you do?"

"I went where everyone goes, when they have nowhere else to go, a bar."

"But you didn't have any money."

"...I sat there, looking at everyone else's drinks, trying to get a second hand buzz going on but it wasn't working. Until a young woman sat beside me and bought me a drink, that's when I met Trixy."

"Met her at a bar, isn't that something, so did Kitten."

Ezra wasn't really listening, off in his own memories.

"Poor girl held her liquor like a sieve."

"So what did she say that brought you here?"

"Don't really remember, she was trying to say something, but the alcohol hit her. I helped her to her car, and she passed out, so I gave her a ride here. I met Adam and Bruce, and they gave me a place to sleep for the night. When I woke up, Trixy assumed that I was part of her team, and I've been here ever since."

They conversed for a while, and time passed, leading Morris to his previous engagement of a date with Bethany. He departed from Ezra, leaving him to his thoughts... and juicy burger...

.

...Early in their friendship, soon after he had been recruited, Trixy had invited him to go with her to what she called, her thinking spot. He had only logged in a few times, and never passed up the chance to learn something new about his new employment. Even though they had only met a few weeks ago, they were getting close, real teammates, nothing creepy. She had said that he was a part of her little family. That was before the nickname stuck. Her thinking spot was not very far from the SDB, but one hell of a climb up, it was on the top of a building at the edge of a city, overlooking a bit of the remains of nature that was left of the Hell's Jurisdiction storyline. They sat for a while in silence.

"I love this place."

"Everything is old, broken down and destroyed. And yet, there is a kind of beauty here."

"Especially when you're high up."

"You sit up here often?"

"Yea."

"Alone?"

"Usually, you just seemed like the kind of person who would appreciate this."

"Doesn't it get lonely?"

"Not really, I have lots to think about..."

She had a beach chair set up on the roof, with two scopes from sniper rifles tied together with string. He sat, looking at the sky, while she childishly watched the frolicking monsters play on the ground below... well, they were trying to kill each other, but from that high up, they could have been playing... she lay down the ghetto binoculars and sat beside her elder.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"..."

"Well?"

"I... I don't know how to ask..."

"Than don't, just tell me."

"I want to stay here, never leave."

"Here? With all the monsters?"

"But you yourself said that it's beautiful."

"They didn't get the wind right, I couldn't stay in a place where the wind doesn't blow right."

They sat quietly for a while, enjoying the odd wind.

"Everyone thinks I'm crazy," she smiled to herself, "but I think there's something here, worth staying for." She stood up, and ran back to the edge and her binoculars.

"Really? Like what?"

"I don't know, a knew world! A place that's better! Something... real. A place were your enemies are in front of you with a sword, not behind you with a dagger, honesty. I hate the real world and all of its politics and policies, where your friend is the one who isn't trying to butter you up. I long for those old stories of the time when you knew your enemy because he was trying to kill you, and your friend cause he had your back... I choose to believe that there is a world here, in this honest game... and that's where I want to be... you think I'm crazy too, don't you?"

"No, I believe in some place too, but it's not in here... Do you believe in heaven? In God?"

"...no, how can I believe in a place or a being who rewards such a bad people?"

"It's called forgiveness."

"I don't believe in forgiveness. Just another word for mercy, weakness, an excuse for those who lack the strength to punish their enemies."

"Ok, remind me not to cross you."

"Don't worry, I am weak to my friends."...

.

The following days were empty and awkward, as very little happened, and Morris remained at odds with Slate. The two didn't talk, unless you take 'we're going in,' and 'up yours' as conversation. Morris and Bethany had lunch together every day, and at this particular lunchtime we join them in time for a very direct question.

"Why don't we go anywhere nice?"

'Because I'm poor as a church mouse' was not the answer that boosted his pride, but it was the truth. "Because I'm poor as a church mouse..."

"You can't even afford a cheap dinner."

"Maybe..."

"How about at the restaurant in the hotel?"

"This job pays in peanuts..."

"Oh common, you can afford that."

"You're right..."

"So tomorrow?"

"...I guess..."

"If nothing comes up, lets say five."

"...Ok..."

"...Why are you so down?"

"Just remembering the good parts of my last job. I had money back then."

"You don't talk much about your old job."

"You know the saying, 'all's well that ends well'?"

"Yea, I've heard it."

"That's why I don't talk about it."

"So it went down hill, everything does, you have to remember the good."

"..."

"Your partner must have been good."

"Yea."

"Tell me about him!"

"..."

"What was his name? For starters."

"...Lee."

The rest of the conversation was painful; it's always good to tell someone the truth, that way it's all out there, and you handle it right then and there. If you lie, all that crap sneaks up on you. Half-lies, and lies of omission, on the other hand, those get in your face and stab you in the back. The best thing to do is just shut up, don't say a word, pretend you're a mime. If someone asks you a hard question say 'have you seen my 'stuck in a box' trick?' ...Mime or die...

.

Morris tried not to think about the events of their lunch, or his situation with money. The pay was bad, but it wasn't too bad. The hotel was free; well it was paid for by the SWD, a favor that Trixy had requested from Anne. The food at the eatery was free, that's why Morris took Beth there every day. Gas was cheap, because he walked everywhere, and there were no other bills to speak of. The only thing members of Sorrow had to pay for was entertainment. So why was he so poor? Because he sent most of his money to a few charities to help the families of fallen heroes. Why? How do you honor a memory?

It had been a while since Sorrow had a mission, so he decided to get some practice. Entering the immersion bay, he surveyed the room; all the seats were empty except one. Bruce's chair sat in the reclined position, with the screens open in the front, Morris hadn't spoken to Bruce much, and wanted a chance to get to know him, in other words, an interrogation. When Morris investigated something, he didn't hold back, in some cases that could be a problem, but if there was, he didn't see it. The last time he held back, somebody died.

He logged on, got dressed, grabbed his equipment and left the weapons room. Choosing the location that Bruce was playing in, he exited the SDB and made his way toward him. Morris poked and prodded along the miserably drab streets of the old small city. The place was quiet, and the shutters slammed against the windows just like in every movie ever made, that featured shutters. The wind howled, and the tumbleweed strolled along, he almost expected a zombie with a ten-gallon hat, and a bullet belt to come sauntering out of a saloon, but none did. Morris had been to this city and it looked nothing like this, they probably copied a much older version of it for the game. He continued poking and prodding for a good minuet until he heard Bruce's voice, and a smashing window. He hurried to the source of the sound, taking cover behind a wall, and watched as Bruce crawled out of the house that a Murderer had thrown him into. Morris would have usually rushed to his friends side, but this was a game, Bruce was probably practicing, he decided to bide his time, and observe. Bruce had a sawed-barrel shotgun in its holster, on the belt thrown to the ground, but he didn't rush for it, instead he just raised his fists and got ready. The Murderer threw a left hook, and Bruce ducked, getting in three jabs before catching a right hook with his stomach. Bruce crawled back out of the wall and went back in, this time he got about six jabs and a few heavy shots in, before he had to crawl back out of the wall. The building he had been frequenting was barely holding up, a few more visits and it would crumble, and Bruce wasn't looking very chipper either, while the Murderer was as fit as a violin. He crawled back out of the wall; limping over to his gun belt he finished the fight with two shots. Morris came out of hiding as Bruce made his way to the side of the road, the two of them sat together.

"That was a good fight."

"I keep trying to get the 'Brawler' achievement, but I'm not fast enough."

"What is the 'Brawler' achievement?"

"It's the hardest achievement for a heavy weight to get, first, you have to be a heavy weight, then you take on a Murderer with no weapons, in the classic boxing stance. But I have to get faster."

"It sounds difficult."

"It's the last one for my size, I've gotten a lot of the others."

They sat for a minuet watching the corpse rot; it broke down pretty fast, probably with the same increased rate as their healing capability. Morris reopened the conversation.

"I'm curious, everybody else has a knick name, from Pain, Wraith, Kitten, how can somebody as big as you not have a knick name? Like Brute or something."

"Because my name's Bruce, and that's how I like it. I don't want to be known for violence, or by a violent name."

"So what's your story?"

"I was a bouncer..."

"Common, really?"

"Yep, and they called me Brute..."

"So why did 'Brute the bouncer' leave the violent world."

"Trixy..."

"What did she say?"

"She got me fired."

"...Well, whatever works..."

Time passed as they sat beside the road, as if they were waiting for a ride...

"So how did you meet Trixy?"

"She came to my place of work quite often."

"Let me guess, you worked at a bar?"

"Yea, how'd you know?"

"Just a guess."

"She came to work off steam, I met her before Sorrow, back when she was too young to drink. Rage taught her how to fight here, in Hell's Jurisdiction, taught her to be quick, and fearless. So every time she would come, I would tell her to get lost, and she would slip past me, get lost in the crowd. She would wait about ten minuets, then start a bar fight."

"A bar fight?"

"Yea, back then she wasn't a leader, she was more of a rebel. She came to my bar a bunch of times, about the third time, my boss thought I was helping her, you know, letting her in. And the last time, he had set a trap, when she started the fight; the authorities showed up, and arrested us both. She felt bad for me loosing my job, and said that she'd talk to her father about getting me a job in this new building they were making, it was going to be so cool she told me, the SWD. So the very first day that the building opened, I was there, she greeted me with open arms."

"You were the first?"

"Well second if you count Trixy, Pain showed up a little later. Then she recruited Ezra, then Bethany, and last Kitten."

Morris counted on his fingers, "When did she recruit Slate?"

"He was the only member of the team that she didn't recruit, Bethany said that she wouldn't join unless her brother could join too."

"Brother?"

"You didn't know?"

"Well it never came up in conversation."

Bruce was surprised, "You two talk all the time, how come it never came up?"

"She never talks about her family, I don't know anything about her parents, or if she has any other siblings."

"Slate's the only one, and her parents are dead, her mother killed her father and then killed herself."

"...That's really sad."

"She was too young to remember most of it."

They grew quiet for a while before Morris reopened the topic.

"I feel bad for her being here, she has such a timid nature in game."

"Bethany? Timid? Bethany is unlucky, I'll give you that, she is timid when Cannibals are present, and there have been a lot of Cannibals lately."

"So what's she like when Cannibals aren't present."

"Bold, vibrant, and full of passion. Trixy had this metaphor, the body of the team, I was the stance, Ezra was the spine, and Bethany was the heart. Slate was the wrath, Pain was the icy glare, and Kitten was the inner demon."

"And what was Trixy?"

"She was the mind."

They had been sitting so long that their behinds had taken on the shape of the ground they were on, even through the armor.

"You ready to move?"

Bruce sighed heavily, "can't sit here forever," he said as he picked himself off the ground...

.

...He was sitting in the car, with his hands cuffed behind his back, when they put her in. She wasn't fighting back, but she wasn't being cooperative either. When they got her in, she turned to them, sticking her tongue out at them; they slammed the door in her face as Bruce tried not to laugh. The two of them sat quietly in the back seat of the car as the Authorities talked with the bar owner. Bruce shook his head, softly laughing to himself.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"At least you're not mad at me."

"Oh I'm mad."

"I was kind of scared you'd try to hurt me..."

"..."

"We don't have to talk if you don't want too..."

"What were you doing here?"

"Having fun..."

"Starting a fight is having fun?"

"What do you mean? There's the rush, the action-."

"Why didn't you pick a fight somewhere else then?"

"Because it's no fun to fight alone, when nobody has your back."

"You come in alone every time."

"...Yea... but you have my back."

"Me?"

"Remember the guy who tried to hit me with that chair? You stopped him, and the guy with the bottle."

"It wasn't personal..."

They were quiet again, alone in the car, waiting to be taken to jail.

"Why were you there?"

"What?"

"Why, were you there?"

"...I work there."

"Why?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?"

"You don't like to fight, you don't enjoy the rush, why do you do it?"

"For the money."

"What did you want to do?"

"That's not relevant anymore."

"Nothings relevant anymore, you're a criminal now..."

"Just shut up."

"I like you."

"It's just the rush wearing off, it'll pass."

"I'm building a team, and I want you in it."

"What?"

"You are going to need a job, and I need a big guy who looks out for people that he doesn't even know, I need you... on my team that is."

"You come to my job, start a fight, lots of fights, and get me fired! Do you really think that that is a good way to start a relationship?"

"I know it is."

"You... I don't even know want to say."

"Join my team."

"Join your team, how many members are there now?"

"Two, you and me."

"You mean one, your team is just you."

"It'll grow, soon it will be three of us, then four."

"I haven't joined yet!"

"You will."

"How do you know?"

She sat back, looking very much in control for a girl with her hands cuffed behind her back, as she answered. "Because you're facing a charge of aiding a thief."

"You didn't steal anything."

"I could say that I didn't have the time."

"What do you mean?"

"I want you on my team, if you aren't going to join my team, then I might as well say that while you staged a bar fight, I was going to steal from the safe in the back. That's a believable story isn't it? Especially the part about you getting seventy-five percent of the heist."

"You would blackmail me?"

"I don't want to, if you join my team, I will make some calls and have all of this put behind us."

"I don't have much of a choice do I?"

"What do you mean? I'm the one who doesn't have a choice; the decision is in your hands, if we go free, or if we both go to prison. If the owner has a really good lawyer, we could be facing life on a Mars penal colony! ...What's your name?"

"You don't even know my name..."

"Well? What is it?"

"...David Bruce."

She hopped up a bit in her seat, awkwardly extending one hand. "My name's Trixy Rage, and my life, Mr. Bruce, is in your hands."

"This team means this much to you?"

"No, but my friends do, and you are my friend."

He had been stuffed into the back of a car with a loon, but he didn't want to live the rest of his live in prison...

"Ok, Trixy, you win, I'll join your little team."

"Than I guess I'll make the call."

The authorities came back from their conversation with the owner, and they drove off into the sunset, and the new beginning of all of their lives...

.

"You seem deep in thought." Morris woke him up from his daydreaming, they had walked quite a while down the road, and Bruce hadn't been paying any attention.

"Sorry, just thinking."

"About what?"

"You wouldn't believe it."

They didn't have time to continue as four Cannibals crept out of a broken down salon in front of them.

"Hey, four on two," Bruce explained, "we can get a 'Tooth and Claw' achievement."

"And what is that?"

"It's when you go against two Cannibals with just knives, it works as long as the number of Cannibals are double the number of gamers."

Morris drew his sword from the sheath, "You got a blade?"

Bruce reached into a pouch he had on his thigh, and removed two pairs of claw knives, three seven inch blades attached perpendicular to a handle and stick out between the fingers. "I got six," he said as they took their stance, 'this is going to be a slaughter."

Morris grinned, the last time he took on a Cannibal it wasn't pretty, but that was a while ago. "One way or another, you're right."

The Cannibals came, clashing their teeth, and flexing their hands with their despicable claws, they spread out, surrounding the two and carrying on in their vile manner.

"Oh common already!" Bruce wasn't a patient man. One ducked around, throwing itself toward him, Bruce countered with a backhand, carving three deep scars into its face. A second came in low and Bruce delivered an uppercut that sent it into a double back flip and hurling into the ground. A third rushed him from the side, while the first re-entered the battle, Bruce cut three deep furrows into its face while launched a devilish kick to the other. All the while, Morris went toe-to-toe, one on one with the last one.

"Got to let go!" Bruce yelled over the sound of battle.

"Of what?" Morris yelled back.

"Stop protecting your life, it's not valuable in a game."

"It's very valuable to me, thank you very much."

Bruce took a step back, brought his fists up in a defensive posture, and held his ground, "this is what your doing!" He yelled as Cannibals rushed him, overpowering his defense and almost taking him to the ground. "This is what you should be doing!" He said as he went on the offensive, catching one opponent with an uppercut, ripping it from tummy to chin. He countered an attack from the second with one arm, and burying his claw knife deep into its skull.

Morris was a quick learner, and trading his safe defensive posture for one of more movement and risk, he ducked around and with an artful spin implanted his sword into his enemy's torso. Removing his blade with plenty of blood splatter he flipped it through his fingers and cut the Cannibal down. All this while Bruce was dispatching his opposition, and together they fell upon the final one, Bruce inflicting three stabs beneath its bottom jaw, and Morris with a cleaving blow straight through its side. The bottom fell while the top half hung limply from the knives supporting it, Bruce threw it away. "Now that's how it's done."

Both of them inspected themselves, neither with any major wounds, just a few scratches and a few pokes, they walked away from their battle practically unscathed.

"Now how about something harder?"

"Like what?"

"A Mansion!"

"...What?"

"...It's an Adventure!"

"What is?"

"Adventure?... It's an area, separated from the rest of the game, mini games you could call them. And in them, there are different goals: there are, Hunting Adventures, the purpose of which is to hunt down monsters, the boss of which is the head of the pack. Trail Adventures, the purpose is to get from one place to a different place, built more like a maze with just a few enemies. Story Adventures, which tell a tale, either mystery, or horror, sometimes even comedy... and also Quests, which are like Story Adventures, but concerning the actual game storyline. And then we have... Treasure Adventures! Always in Mansions, each one has a tower near the back of it, if it is one story; it was made for one person to tackle. If the tower is two stories, build for two, three for three and likewise. Until six of coarse, then it becomes a castle, six stories for ten people, and seven for a team of fifteen. Up to ten for thirty or more people to assault..."

"So were is this Mansion? And how tall?"

"Near the center of this very city, there stands a Mansion with a tower of three stories tall, you can tell by the windows..."
"Three?"

"We're tough, you don't think we can do this?"

"Alright! I'm game, lets go for it."

The duo approached the doorway with the commanding air of returning victors, their glory renown. They flung the door open and stepped inside, a Sinner in a tux approached them with a sickish hacking roar, and was dispatched with a quick shot from a sawed barrel shotgun. "Usually, one should investigate around the building before entering, just to find what you're dealing with."

"Really, and you tell me that now? Anything else I should know?"

"Just that," he said, pointing to a picture on the far wall, across from the door they had entered, a family portrait. "It is right across from every entrance to every Mansion," they slowly approached it, "these are the members of the family who lived here, when they escape from hell, they come back, them and all their servants, because they have no place else to go. Well, almost everybody," he pointed to a pretty little girl with an angelic smile, "if in the picture they look evil, stuck up, or snooty, than they will be here. If however they look holy, peaceful, and angelic, than they wont be, because they went to heaven. Not only can you tell who is here, but what kind of monster they will be, by the look in their eyes. There is also another portrait in the servant's quarters in the basement, that doest the same thing."

They walked through the first floor, weird sounds came from odd places, and vice versa... as Morris looked around, a bronze blade, placed up on the wall, caught his attention. Bruce saw it as well, "and that is why we are here, the treasures, you should see my weapons room, it is chock full of these precious beauties. Of coarse, the nicer stuff is closer to the end."

And they skulked on, and on, there were no enemies to be found, no monsters, until they approached the downward stairs...

"Aren't we trying to go up?" Morris whispered.

"Even though it's a Mansion, it's usually built that every path leads to the tower, the only difference is what kind of treasure you find on the way. If you go up, you find gorgeous knives, ravishing blades, even hand guns made out of pure gold and jewels... side note, the guns break really easily. But if you go down, you find the shotguns, and those ugly but powerfully weapons that kill your enemies dead. Going up has fewer enemies, but going down... oh yea, it's on when you go down..."

"I kinda fancy the pretty knives..."

"Common Morris, this is the way to go!"

"Fine, lets go."

"Here comes the gore..."

The stairs creaked, and the walls groaned. Their hearts pounding while the echoes regurgitate... they were deep, down in the basement, the only light came from the small candles on the walls. They sidled down the shadowy and soul-destroying foyer, and a room began to open before them. Suddenly they froze as at their feet, they saw pools of blood, and from before them, they heard the famished bellow of a pack of ravenous Cannibals.

"By the way," Bruce explained, "when the master of a Mansion happens to be a Cannibal, most of the servants tend to go that way too... just a side note."

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"And we really shouldn't fight a pack of Cannibals in a hallway, they have this one on one direct attack that is just brutal, best to have a more open battle ground."

Morris looked up and down the long hall that they inhabited.

"Like where?"

"The room in front is perfect."

With famished roars of their own, possibly closer to the malnourished side of starvation, they stormed into the room where the monstrous opposition lay in wait. They stormed straight into the trap, of eight hungry Cannibals in different states of dress.

In a sweeping wave of passion, with an overwhelming feeling of anger... mostly pointed toward Bruce for his horrible timing and just disastrous battle planning... and the overwhelming feeling of anger, Morris fell upon his foes with the fury of Armageddon and a full auto rifle. The blood flew and the guts with it, as together they let true hell out amongst their challengers. In the midst of his personal all out, Morris saw across from him, the terror of a big man laying a pounding on his foes. He watched as Bruce fought, with perfect timing, but with no sense of personal safety. Morris had observed this from most of the team, that unspoken bond, that knowledge, that ability to go for broke because of the guy who you know has your back. He realized from this, that Trixy was one hell of a leader, and had a built one inferno of a team.

"OH YEA! That, was the most fun I've had in ages!"

"You don't come to these places for the treasures, do you?"

"It's the battle that you're not supposed to have, when you're not looking for the fight, it is that much sweeter."

"As long as you're victorious."

"A wise man once said, there is no shame falling before a worthy foe."

"Especially when you can get back up afterward, and go to the eatery."

"I thought that went without saying?"

It took them a second to notice their injuries... their many, many injuries. Bruce was covered in deep cuts, tears, and bites. And Morris was missing chunks all over, the two hobbled over to a bench to wait.

"..."

"..."

Real epic conversation...

"..."

"..."

"...She must have been something..."

"...She was."

Time passed and no they didn't say much else, they just sat, and spoke through memory of battle. In time they were healthy enough to rise, and they made their way throughout the rest of the Mansion. Cannibals threw themselves at them, but once you've fought one, you've fought them all, and soon enough they were standing before the stairwell to a hell of a lot closer to heaven... The stairwell led into a room, on one side of which held the hallway of the upper route that they didn't take. And on the other, an absolutely huge door, that they barreled through just as fast as they could.

The lights were dim, but grew brighter, they were alone in a room that was richer and more beautiful than any other Morris had ever seen, the weapons on the walls, oh the weapons on the walls!

"It's a good thing we forgot to grab any new gear."

"Why is that?"

"Oh, once these doors closes, there's no going back, you can always go back out of the building whenever you want to, unless you came through these doors, than your stuck going forward..."

"You mean those doors behind us right?"

"Yes sir! Those very ones."

"I'm not even surprised that you didn't tell me. But we should be able to handle this guy right?"

"Well..."

"Right?"

"The final boss is supposed to be tough, if it was a Murderer, than maybe, but I'm not real good with the speed of the Thief and Cannibal bosses..."

They hadn't noticed him hanging from the chandelier, until he dropped down before them, letting out the most powerfully hungry scream that gluttony for human flesh could possibly muster. Morris beheld the apex of rapacious conciliation, the zenith of gluttonous termination. His arms were bigger than his namesake as were his hands. Partially dressed in a full tuxedo, his body was bigger, longer and more muscular. His eyes were not sewn shut and they were big, feline and accurate, his ears were larger as well, and his teeth. Longer, sharper, jagged and embedded, his teeth were the invitations to visit the house of the Devil himself. He roared again...

.

Morris woke up in aching pain; he searched fervently for a part of his body that didn't hurt, and found to his delight that his forth toe on his left foot felt rather well. Out of one building, across one street, and into another is hardly a walk. But when one feels likened unto a zombie, you would be surprised how long a walk it actually is. As he entered the hotel he began to feel better, and as he entered the ninth floor, he was close to his usual self, and ready to 'bond' with another member of his team. It couldn't possibly end as badly as the last one...those terrible teeth...

Morris knocked on the door of Adam White, he wasn't sure if he wanted to, but he had to sooner or later, and sooner is always better. A soft word was uttered and Morris quietly entered. Adam was sitting by his desk, on which he had a small television, and was watching some sappy doctor show.

"What's up." He said in that manner which made you fell like he didn't really want to know what was up, he didn't even look away from the screen.

"Just thought I'd say hi."

"Hi back." In a weird way, even though he had still not paused his show, or even really acknowledged Morris' presence in the room, he wasn't being rude.

"So..." Morris' lame attempt to get a conversation rolling, "how long have you been here?"

"Since the beginning."

"How long has that been?"

"Almost eight years."

"You came in right after Bruce?"

"Yes, but is am I on trial?"

Morris needed to learn how to beat around the bush. He tried...

"I, um, caught your fight... that was pretty cool..."

"If you think so."

"I watched it with Beth and King, they call it the Frosty Power-."

"Void..."

"Well yea, but they say frosty-."

"It is called, Void."

"Kinda... touchy about it, aren't you?"

"Kinda."

"How does it work?"

Adam paused a second before answering, "did Anne or Beth tell you how I was recruited?"

"Something about an anti-military demonstration or something?"

"I'm a pacifist, you know, hate violence."

"What made you change your mind?"

"I didn't, I wont quote her whole speech, but it was very nice. She said, that the people who hated violence, were the only ones that she trusted to use it... I despise using force to bring others to your way, either of thinking or acting. And the game reads that ire as a force that separates me, from the game itself. My hatred creates a void, a tear in the code of the game, but you're not here to learn about that, you want to know about her, don't you?"

"Yes I do... she seemed like such a leader, so... awe inspiring, why...?"

"Why did he kill her?"

"Wait, what?"

"Is that what you're thinking?"

"I don't know what to think! Did he not kill her? If he didn't than what is he trying to hide? It's not against the law to die, to get caught in a gaming flaw, it wouldn't harm her character... So why?"

"If it's not against the law to die, than why are you approaching it as a crime?"

"Because he's acting like a criminal."

"Isn't there an old saying in law, something like 'innocent until proven guilty?'"

"Not necessarily when the innocent person is all but saying that he's guilty."

"What makes a man guilty?"

"Committing a crime."

"...Isn't it funny, that being guilty has nothing to do with feeling guilt?"

"Why would he feel guilt?"

"Why are you asking me?"

Morris didn't want to say 'because this is an interrogation' but didn't have any other answer. "To be honest, I don't know, maybe he's protecting Kitten, and if I push him hard enough-."

Pain paused his show, and turned to him.

"What are you looking for?"

"What?"

"What are you really looking for, what do you hope to find at the end of all this?"

Morris knew that Pain had already guessed the answer, and was just trying to confirm it, but he didn't like to say it either way, "...probably atonement."

"You should know," he said as he turned back to his show, "that it doesn't exist..."

He took a second to recover from the surprise of the answer.

"How do you know?"

"Because I've been looking for what feels like an eternity."

With that Morris concluded his conversation and left, as he had received all the answers that he was going to get, and because talking to Pain had similar aspects as falling down a well. He left him alone, to deal with his own problems, namely a most difficult question, is it ever wrong to help a friend?...

.

...It was supposed to be a simple mission, Trixy had called Pain and Bruce, Bruce had called the rest of the team. The mission was a hunch that Trixy had, on the location of a Black Blood base, and she wanted the three of them to check it out, she didn't want to bother the whole team. It was in a real upper class district, tall pretty buildings, built in that beautiful way that made you want to take up civil engineering.

Slate approached her while they neared a particularly wide building, which was not copied from the real world.

"All this time and not a sight of the enemy."

"I said it was a hunch."

"We've run into quite a number of Sinners, Black Blood wouldn't set up here."

"We've come this far, I think we should just go the rest of the way."

"Whatever you say, we're right behind you."

"Just tell the team its combat practice..."

There is a certain way to scout a building, especially one that you've supposedly never been in. One doesn't just walk directly through it towards a particular place, like Trixy was doing. She walked at such a rapid pace, that the team had difficulty keeping up, Slate ran up beside her, grabbing her shoulder.

"What's with you? This is not how you scout a building Trixy, we've been skipping whole sections!"

"If you want to go check them out, be my guest."

She tried to walk past him but he stopped her.

"Trix, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to scout a-."

"No your not."

"It's a routine-."

"No its not."

She sighed exasperatedly, not being allowed to fool him.

"Slate, I hate pulling rank or position on you... but that is what I'm doing."

He removed his hand from her shoulder, taking a step back. She left without a word as Pain stood in the shadows and watched. They followed her out of the back of the building, into a garden, open yet secluded, clear skies but walls seemingly closing in on them. The garden path led somewhere, but its destination wasn't visible from their location, and the presence of several Murderers and Cannibals, along with many Sinners impeded their progress. Sorrow could have handled the oppression, but Trixy didn't lead them, she just walked on, and without plan or strategy the team ran to protect her. The slaughter was massive; Bruce went toe to toe with a Murderer, while Cannibals engaged Ezra in the back. Bethany was overpowered by a wave of Sinners, as Kitten fought on. Slate couldn't focus on the battle at hand, and where as opponents would usually fall to his searing flames, they prevailed against him.

Trixy barley made it into the clearing at the end of the garden path, Pain entered behind her, a blue glow came from up ahead, and with a cautioned look she asked him.

"Slate?"

"Didn't make it, a cannibal got lucky." She was relieved.

"Watch the entrance."

"No."

"...What?"

"Why are we here?"

"I had a hunch, came to check it out-."

"Don't lie to me Trix."

"Than don't ask stupid questions."

"There's nothing wrong with a little day dreaming, Trix, but this-."

"This? This is nothing, I'm just-"

"You're lying again."

"I can't know for sure... and it's killing me."

"And this, this is your leap of faith?"

"I know so much more now, I know that there's something. I'm looking now, in places I've never looked before."

"Trixy... you don't know what you're risking."

"Ezra believes in heaven, why cant I?"

"If this means so much to you, than I'll help you, but wait till you know for sure."

"I KNOW! I can't tell you how, but I know... I, I feel, I know this is right Pain."

"And what about us, all of us that you're leaving behind?"

"I'll be back I swear, I just need to confirm, to see what I've known all along."

"And Slate?"

"Slate...?"

"He's crazy about you."

"Slate... will hate me..."

"He'll follow you."

"He can't."

"Trixy-."

"I need this! ... can't you see I need this..."

"If you're so stricken with wanderlust that you cant see anything worth staying for, than go, break all our hearts and leave."

In anger he left, hearing her yell over his shoulder.

"How do I choose?"

Exiting the garden he passed the surviving members of the team.

"Where's Trix," they all asked and he answered the only way he could...

"...I lost her."

When Pain woke after that mission, he found Trixy sitting by his chair.

"You'll help me?" She asked.

"Of coarse I will, Trix."

"...Don't tell him, please?"

He remembered his response in perfect detail, "I never will," even now, he couldn't tell which friend he was trying to help, and which he was trying to protect.

"If you ever find it," he spoke to Morris even though he was alone, "would you tell me where it is?"

.

Morris lay on his bed with his recorder by his face. It had been a hectic day, not to mention a very painful one, and he had just awoken from an uneventful nap.

"What a way to die, I did some research on Hell's Jurisdiction, and found quite a lot of information. Like attempted suicides, every one thinks it's the greatest way to go until they try. Agonizing pain, it is said to feel like every singe cell in your body is being ripped apart. Most people can't even do one hand. To say the least, suicides are few, but murders on the other hand... If Slate learned his fire trick from Trix, than how could he have overpowered her? Kitten has no chance to even compare, unless she is hiding one doozie of a secret. And what was all that talk about guilt? Maybe I should look more into the romantic aspect of their relationship, or maybe I should just talk to Anne..."

Talking to Anne was always the right choice, but staying on track in a conversation with her was difficult. He found her in the lecture hall giving one of her random lectures to her class that had now grown to four, the newest member being one of security personnel. Her lecture was on...

.

"The Swan family, Larry and Martha Swan, and their two sons, Judas and Lucas, the four minds behind FourTech. Larry Swan was an extremely gifted computer engineer, and met his other half in Martha, in his graduating class. Martha was a Business Major and dabbled in Software Programming, needless to say, for these two utter geeks, it was love at first PowerPoint presentation. The two of them married (in Vegas) and started a small business, BrighTech, it flopped. In fact, it didn't last as long as it did to read that entire sentence, not including the comma pauses. This failure, while it did destroy their future, and financial plans, it did nothing to their love for each other, and while working at some random computer shop located at the cross of Dismal Hwy, and Apathy Road, their love blossomed and their relationship grew. Their two children were born and less then seven words later their youngest was entering college. Judas went into Government and Business, as a double major, while Lucas (the youngest) went into Computer Programming and Art Appreciation. Larry Swan balding, and Martha going grey, the family tried again, their hand in business, and FourTech was born without a single pop of champagne. Of coarse, that was back in 2014, nearly two hundred years ago, and a lot has happened since then.

FourTech began as a home appliance company, designing software and technology. Larry tried to keep the company on the road of innovation, while Martha tried to steer it towards communication. Judas had his own dreams and tried to pull the company towards security, both personal and property. Working together, Martha and Judas created a whole new division of the company and FourTech was split into FourTech Home, and FourTech World. During this time, Lucas worked alongside his family. But in his free time, he worked in secret on his hobby, something he called Immersion. Judas felt pity for his brother, who had no driving passion for the family business. And in thought of his brother, and his own youthful enjoyment, he created FourTech Gaming. Lucas invested himself in FourTech Gaming, and single handedly revolutionized the gaming industry. Upon tentative coaxing, he brought Immersion technology out of his secret closet, and into the light, letting his family see his creation. Immersion technology grew from a hobby to a focus, from a dream to a direction. Martha was the first to utilize it, evolving aspects of it into a personalized, long distance communication device. His technology helped and improved several parts of the FourTech franchise.

On a completely different note, Larry Swan disliked doctors, and never went to his appointments or anything because he was in general a very healthy man. You can see were I'm going with this, Larry Swan found out about his Lou Gerick's disease when his body began shutting down. He played off his fear, but whatever emotions he pretended not to have, Martha embodied. As he could no longer live in the world, he lived in his dreams and they became more vivid and real. One in particular changed the rest of his life: He was walking in death, through a museum of future. In every room, and on every wall, sat four paintings, three shadowed portraits featuring the silhouettes of three young men. Above these three sat a large painting of a bright light, exactly the same on every wall, in ever room, but each one unique. He only saw this dream once, but never forgot it, because he thought it was prophecy, 'failed destiny,' the words he used. Larry revealed to many journalists and reporters, that his wife Martha, two years after Lucas was born, asked him for another child, even begged him. He said no, because he thought two was enough. He felt guilt, and was convinced that his three sons would have changed the world. Larry had his reasons, something about kids pairing off, and that odd child would have been lonely. His reasons helped him sleep some of those nights, but as he approached that final night, they were useless and his guilt all but destroyed him. He did all that was in his power to have another child with Martha, but they were passed their time. He died in regret, and Martha followed less than a month later.

Judas inherited his father's dying and probably delusional wishes, taking it upon himself to change the world, fulfilling the role of two sons by himself. With his fathers memory he created his life long dream, FourTech Global, tying it into the birth of the GGS with military, security, and surveillance applications. His eye fell upon Lucas' Immersion technology for global communication, and military training. But Lucas vehemently opposed the idea, and their disagreement concerning the matter swelled and overflowed into other topics, even to their relationship itself. Driving both of them to make decisions in their youth that they regretted, including and concluding with Lucas' decision to destroy Immersion technology altogether. And in a breathtaking display of suicidal genius, Lucas ended his life by connecting himself to his device while running the self-destruct code.

Judas mourned the loss of his brother; he didn't know that Lucas would have taken it so far. He knew Immersion was brilliant, but he never could have imagined how powerful its application could be. The possibilities were limitless yet every one with destructive end. Lucas knew more about Immersion than anyone before, and no one has matched him since. Judas gave his best scientists the job of digging through the debris of his brother's laboratory, and even though they found some of his papers that were not totally destroyed, and some information on some disk-cassettes that were not entirely wiped, he couldn't give the order to rebuild. Judas shelved the entire project and focused his life on holding the burden of his father's three sons."

.

Anne wrapped up her lecture, and her 'students' left the room, a few of them seemed to have a tear in their eye. All through her speech Morris had been leaning in the doorway, and as the students left, he entered.

"What a sad note to end on."

"History is just like any other story, it has to be told with the same feeling and emotion as were present when it was present."

"But still, that was sad."

"The story of the Swan family is one of tragedy, that was the overview, you can come back for the in depth if you want." She walked around the room, cleaning up her books and papers, with an almost telepathic air she asked. "You have questions?"

"You said that Judas tied FourTech Global with the GGS, that would make FourTech a very large company but its not."

"FourTech was a very large company, but just as Immersion technology destroyed Lucas' life, it destroyed Judas as well. Back in the day, around 2050 or so, Judas was the CEO of FourTech, so when the GGS demanded that Immersion technology was to be taken off the shelf and completed, Judas denied them. He had his reasons; Lucas believed that his Immersion was too powerful, a belief that he held alone. Judas respected his brother's memory, and final wish, swearing to keep Immersion technology shelved forever, thus separating FourTech from its biggest customer, the GGS. FourTech shrank rapidly, and Judas was called crazy, he was still the CEO, but the heads of the four divisions were the ones in charge. By destroying his business partnership with GGS, Judas had failed his father. And when the division head of FourTech Gaming took Immersion off the shelf, he had failed his brother. He went into seclusion for seventy years."

"Seventy years? Graduating college around 2014, inheriting the company around 2050, how old was this guy when he died?"

"Died? Judas Swan is still alive, he is however very sickly, and is incased with a machine that resembles a refrigerator with big wheels. With modern technology, and enough money, you can live for a very long time."

"So he left seclusion in 2120, and lived for another one hundred and two years?"

"Judas came out of seclusion, when the current four division heads were busy driving FourTech into the ground. He saved the company, and with the new found wisdom of a seventy year long study of his personal failures, he tried again to pick up the mantle of his fathers three sons. He had lost faith in FourTech, and no longer believed that the GGS was the way to change the world. Instead, he vowed to complete his brother's work, using Immersion technology to... Judas had a lot of faith in his brother's description of the power of Immersion technology, as he, and everyone else only saw a technology that put you inside the computer. Lucas saw something more, and Judas vowed to find out what."

"Did he ever find it?"

"They barely got it running until about twenty years ago, different aspects of it were used all around, but the technology itself took forever to complete. They had no way to pitch it, so it kept falling flat when it came to the budget of running the system. Judas has yet to find what he was looking for, but that doesn't stop him from trying."

"He plays Hell's Jurisdiction?"

"All the time, being old, he can't do much else. So pretty much all day every day you can find him inside his brother's dream, looking for the answers to life. He plays as the character Golgotha."

"And how does he tie in with the SWD's mission?"

"Officially he doesn't, we're here for Black Blood and their employers or whatever, the GGS never got around to writing our actual mission statement. Off the record however Golgotha's personal investigation looks like it's going after the same people that we are. Evidence that is supported by the little we know about Operation Phalanx."

"What was Phalanx?"

"Operation Phalanx was the GGS' response, pretty much a scout team, to see what the situation was in game. Three men, put in some of the most expensive Immersion chairs, which had been upgraded into ghetto cryo chambers, fed through the arm-."

"Fed through the arm?" Morris interrupted, "how long was this mission for?"

"It lasted two months, FourTech gave them full access to the SDB network, but couldn't really help in any other way. They had to find everything on their own, but no one even knows what they found, except the lone survivor. Luke was the first to die, followed by Grave."

"Luke and Grave?"

"Yea, like the names of the Quivers, the third member was Rage."

"Really?"

"It changed him, the man who returned from that mission wasn't the same man who went in. Rage was known for his lust for power!"

"He was...?"

"But when he returned, he had a lust for... alcohol, and smooth jazz. Didn't tell anyone what happened, just that we needed to go back."

"Rage, a lust for power, really?"

"The GGS was on the fence about building the SWD, until FourTech started acting strange. Saying they didn't need any more help, canceling our full access to the SDB network, and locking our pain setting to the full fifty percent. Something was going on, and the GGS investigated. Of coarse that was years ago, and with so little in results, and our budget always going over the scraps and peanuts they give us... the GGS is not so sure investigating was the right call."

They were quiet for a while, as Morris reflected on the mentioned attributes of Rage that he never knew.

"So how do you know so much about this?"

""Because I'm the-."

"About Rage, and his apparent lust for power, that I had no idea about."

Anne was taken back; she blushed ever so slightly, and grew nervous.

"You don't know," she said, "I'm sorry, we've spoken so often of you, I don't know why I assumed you knew."

"Knew what?"

"He's my father."

"The Hell he is! I don't have a sister, I know that because if I did have a sister, then I would have been informed."

"Well actually, you see... well."

Morris turned swiftly to the exit, hearing Anne behind him.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a second opinion!"

.

Bursting into his father's office. "What is this I hear about you having a daughter?"

"...It's a long story...?"

"I think I have time for this one."

"Look, I didn't cheat on your mother, I couldn't."

"I don't believe it."

"No, I really couldn't, trust me, I tried."

Morris' patience was already running thinner than his trust, as he struggled to wring an answer from his father.

"What does that mean?"

"Ok, there was this woman that I worked with who was know for being a slut. Also, side note, she was smoking hot. The only problem was that her husband was a private detective, who specialized in infidelity. He knew all the signs, and nothing got past him. Cameras in her car, microphones in the hotel rooms, and booby traps on her freaking panties! So try as I may, I could not cheat on your mother."

"Explain the girl then."

"After your mother gave birth to you, I realized that I had to change. I was young; I thought that it was one thing to play around with a woman, but not with a child. I told my co-worker that I wouldn't be seeing her again. A few years later, things happened, her husband went to prison for murder, and she turned up pregnant with somebody else's kid. Having no one else to turn to, she called me. I felt responsible so I met with her, however she didn't show. In her place she sent a carriage with two of the most adorable little babies I had ever seen."

"Two?"

"Annabelle, and Bertha, I hated the name so I renamed her... Trixy. I raised them, I had to, the fact that I wasn't their biological father was irrelevant... I should have been. Hell I tried hard enough to be. But I was ashamed, and rightfully so, and couldn't bring myself to tell your mother. Instead, I hired three babysitters to keep them. In those days, however, your mother and I shared a credit account. She wasn't happy about the three girls, who just happened to be named Candy, Cherry, and Chastity, getting monthly payments for a secret favor. I couldn't tell her the truth, I said they were whores, and she divorced me."

Silence abounded, as Morris tried to find reason.

"Trixy was your daughter? Than how can you be so passive about her death?"

"...Some graves should be left to rest."

"I'm not talking about her grave, just the grave of her killer."

"I know... Morris, certain words are hard for a parent to say."

Morris didn't answer, and the two of them sat in a violently awkward silence.

"...Looking back," he paused for the latter half of a minuet, "do you regret the choices you made... as a father?"

"...Yes... but when I left you, I raised my daughters... it was the only good that I could bring from so many bad decisions."

"..."

"I regret not being there for you."

"..."

"I regret lying to your mother."

"..."

" I regret-"

"Go to hell, sir."

Morris left, the pinnacle of his emotions was anger, but so many weld up within him. Outside of the office, he shouldered past an ecstatic Anne, holding three bottles of champagne and four glasses. With a silly smile she asked if there was to be a joyous family reunion, he didn't answer. A blow to her mood, she entered Rage's office, his face buried in his folded arms on his desk.

"No happy family memories?"

A muffled grunt was his reply. Her eyes were red, but she played off her emotions.

"I guess I'll go get drunk alone... If you want me, I'm taking the day off."

.

Rage sat alone in his office, face still buried in his arm, over the radio he called Slate, who minuets later entered.

"...I don't know Slate, sometimes, you look back to that time when you hit the canvas. The referee started counting, and just before he said ten you got up! Hell yea you got up but now... what feels like a million bells later, you find yourself asking... Why didn't I just stay down? Why did I do that, what was I trying to prove? And you tell yourself that next time, the next time I fall... I don't care if the Energizer Bunny shoots up my ass I'm staying the hell down!"

"You wanted to see me sir?"

"Maybe the answer to life, that one we all look for so diligently is 'Yes, life kicked my ass, knocked me the hell out, had me for dinner and then dessert... I am life's bitch..."

"No sir, that's not a good answer."

"Than what is it?"

"I don't know, 'To hell with life, I've got other problems'...?"

"Why do we keep fighting..."

"Because we're bored sir?"

"I mean seriously."

"We fight for a 'better tomorrow,' or to 'protect what we have today.'"

"That is some corny ass crap right there."

"Yes sir, I have no idea, but I do know that we sure as hell don't talk about it to our subordinates, because they just might be going through some stuff as well, you save it for your doctor... sir."

"What effect do you think our little battles have on our friends?"

"We don't fight just for the hell of it our battles are important, sir!"

"I know damn well how important they are, but who are they important to?"

"..."

"I don't tell people this much, but in my youth, I was a food store manager. And damn it all to hell if keeping a fully stocked store wasn't the most important part of life. But to my neighbor, a lawn care specialist, keeping your weed whacker in good condition was much more important... Do you get what I'm saying?"

"I'd rather not, sir."

"You were going to be my son in law, don't forget that, I never will."

"Sir?"

"This thing with Morris and Trixy, just let it go."

"Is that an order, sir?"

"My conscience would kill me if it were..."

.

As Slate slowly and quietly left the office, he saw Adam, leaning against the wall waiting for him.

"Pain, always good to see you."

"That actually sounds kinda funny."

"Yea, I'm just feeling like one of those people who hurt themselves for the fun of it. But you have good news for me right?"

"About that... no not really."

"Didn't think so."

"You were right, this is about atonement for him, he wont give up on this... are you sure this is smart, or even right? Are you sure you want to do this, over a dead girl?"

"What are you saying, you don't think I'll win?"

"I thought you didn't want to win..."

"Do you still have my back."

"Hell yea Slate-."

"Than what is it?"

"...I just think you're wrong."

As Pain turned to leave, Bethany timidly approached him.

"Jason... can I talk to you?"

"Of coarse Bethy, what is it?"

"Um... well the thing is, you know."

"This is about Morris isn't it."

"Pleas let this go, I care about both of you and don't want to see you fight."

"I'm sorry Beth but I can't do that, one should always stay true to their friends."

"Even their dead ones?"

Slate didn't have an answer, and Bethany waited for a moment to ask a painful question.

"What about the living? Which one's more important?"

"You can always confess you failures to the living, but what can you say to the dead?"

They were quiet, neither of them wanted to continue this line of conversation, especially Bethany, but she knew that she had to.

"I'm sorry for you, but please... don't ruin this for me... I really like this guy."

"I know Beth and I respect that, I'm happy for you. But I can't let this go, I can't let him find out."

"Find out what? If it was that bad, than you would have killed Kitten by now, but for whatever reason you forgave her... Isn't it over?"

"...I can't accept that, and no it's not over."

"SHE'S DEAD!... I know you loved her, really I do but... you have to move on, or else how can I?"

"What am I supposed to do... I'm sorry Bethany but..."

"Jason... don't make me choose cause there's no way in hell I'll choose you."

Harsh words, but those were the words that Bethany had been repeating in her head even before she approached him. She had made up her mind; she just wished that she hadn't had to say them... they were so much harsher that she had intended them to be, but they were still true. Who wants to sacrifice one relationship so they can save another?

And there he stood, cursing his useless resolve to... do something that he had forgotten a long time ago, to be honest he was just fighting for the hell of it, or was it for the memories?

"It's usually pretty hard to sneak up on you."

Slate laughed, "Yea, I guess I'm a little distracted."

Kitten leaned against the wall beside him.

"I love how you just don't give up, even when everyone else knows you've lost."

"You're probably enjoying this aren't you?"

"Not as much as I wanted to... but yes."

They stood in silence for a while, till Kitten continued.

"Why can't you just give this up? We can't let it go until you do, and most of them have forgiven you for what you did."

"Anne hasn't, you haven't either... neither have I."

"If you're waiting for us, it might take a while, especially when every time we look over at you, your still wallowing in the guilt. Maybe if you forgive yourself, than we will too."

"To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm ready to be forgiven."

She smiled, "Well, I didn't just come to gloat, we have a mission, or we might. FArrow thinks that Black Blood will be having a secret meeting in a library in Hell's Jurisdiction. There is a tall building down the street from it and FArrow thinks if they can set up there, then they will be able to spy on this meeting. The only problem is that there is an overwhelming amount of Sinners in the area, probably why Black Blood chose to have the meeting there. First wants TArrow and Sorrow to launch a full attack on the Sinners, to cover First and FArrow while they sneak into the building, when they get to the top, First will protect FArrow while they gain whatever Intel they can. And we, assuming we are still alive, will spend our time securing the building."

"Good plan, it actually sounds fun."

"Thought it might cheer you up," Kitten walked away toward the elevator, "By the way Slate..."

"Yea...?"

"Sorry, I forgot it would kill me to pay you a complement."

.

"This is probably going to be a slaughter," Slate wasn't in the mood for an uplifting speech as Sorrow stood outside the SDB on an in game beautiful day. "But, FArrow thinks this is important so... anyway, we're going to wait until TArrow engages the enemy and then we'll flank them, lets go."

Not a single member was inspired, but it was just one of those days.

They walked along, kicking rocks and having an all around boring time of it. Every little while a few pesky Sinners would pop up, and Slate would dispatch them with his incredibly fast draw and impeccable aim.

"Where are you guys?" Nicolas came in over the radio.

"A few blocks from our waiting post."

"The plan has changed a little, some Sinners caught sight of FArrow so the three of our teams made a mad rush for the building, we're holding now, but that can change with the wind."

"On our way."

Their speed increased from a slow rock-kicking stroll to a sluggish drawl, as the enemy numbers slowly increased. They made their way along, having their random conversations about random drivel until a loud scream came from a building on the side. Two Thieves, along with their posse came rushing at them. Bruce, King and Ezra covered as the rest fell back to the other side. They held but the enemies just kept pouring out, it wasn't just a few Thieves anymore, but a whole Master Thief horde. Slate attempted to keep the team together, but the oncoming pressure just tore them apart. Kitten and Ezra took cover in the building behind them, while Bruce, King, and Morris fell back down a side alley. Slate, Bethany and Wraith held up in a side entrance of a building further down, erecting a small barricade from the doorway. Morris' little group scrambled up a fire escape stairwell, and laid down enough firepower to keep their opponents at bay. But the enemy horde fell hardest on Ezra and Kitten, with crushing power they fell through the door, two Murderers entered along with a squad of Sinners. The duo retreated through the building with the Murderers hot on their heels.

"We can turn and fight," Ezra hated retreats.

"There are two of them, we wouldn't win, not to mention the improved Sinners behind them."

"We can't just keep running!"

"You have a better idea?"

They kept running, ever trying to shake or impede with a dart up a stairwell, or a duck through a small doorway, gaining few seconds with each evasion, barely escaping from the fingers of their pursuers. They kept running, at their max speed, turning into yet another stairwell they ascended. In a strike of bad luck, catching his foot on the tip of a stair, Ezra fell, not even bothering to call out to Kitten as she had already left him to his fate of the oncoming Murderer; he fired off about half a magazine.

Using her partner's demise, Kitten ran outside of the Murderers smelling range, which was the only reason that she hadn't used her cloaking belt sooner. She disappeared into the shadows, and snuck her way out of the building.

.

Morris and Slate, along with the rest of Sorrow, reconvened and reloaded down the street from their ambush, with not too many wounds, and not too many scars. There was no sign of either Ezra or Kitten.

"Should we wait?" Beth asked her brother.

"We've already waited long enough, Nick has called us quite a few times."

But they waited a little longer anyway, and as they turned to leave, Kitten emerged from the shadows.

"Finally," Morris approached her, "What took you so long."

"Took the scenic route."

"Any sign of Ezra?"

"He couldn't keep up."

Morris always hated such an uncaring attitude concerning others. And it was the most prevalent of Kitten's attitudes. "You left him?"

"He was really slowing me down-."

He grabbed her by the throat, picking her up off her feet.

"If you ever show such disregard to one of us again your finished!"

Morris threw her against the wall; the force broke her arm and shoulder. Bethany rushed to her side, as Slate moved between them, his anger glaring.

"Never speak to one of my team like that."

"Your team?" Morris spoke down to him, "you run a damn nursery."

Bethany turned to Slate, "Can you overlook this for now?"

"Not a chance."

She looked at Morris, "Just leave it alone."

"No way in hell."

Nick reiterated his need for assistance over the radio, but Sorrow was silent as Slate and Morris stood in vicious stalemate. Time passed as they stood, Pain approached Slate with his back to Morris, their words were indiscernible, but it was clear that Slate had no intention of leaving. Putting his hand to his ear, Pain addressed Nicolas.

"Slate and Morris died in the last rush, I am taking command of Sorrow and coming to you."

They stood face to face until they were alone; Morris was the first to speak.

"How can you call this your team?"

"..."

"They say that you still call it Trixy's team, is that so you can shirk responsibility?"

"..."

"Is that why she died?"

"You just can't let this go can you."

"Wont, is more like it."

"What do you want to hear?"

"A confession would make my day."

"A confession to a half-assed accusation?"

"To the truth."

"What truth? You don't know what happened, hell you haven't even been to the supposed crime scene!"

"You're acting guilty, you blame yourself, and you hide everything from me but swear you didn't do it. What do you expect me to do?"

"Why do you just assume that you know what happened?"

"Because it all adds up!"

"What adds up?"

"There was motive, opportunity, ability, added to your overwhelming guilt."

"I didn't kill her!"

"If you're not guilty, why can't you let it go?"

Slate didn't answer for a time, finally, he couldn't keep up the charade.

"...I play dumb so well, I fool myself sometimes," Slate smirked as he continued, "What does all this have to do with Peter Heeley?"

"And where did you hear that name?"

"Anne happens to know a lot about everything."

"Peter was just a sick man, and I'd rather my actions be based on myself and not some... thing, from my past."

Slate stood still for a moment, thinking.

"Anne thought that you were trying to settle a score by catching Trix's killer, I thought you had different motives, and I was right. This is about Lee, isn't it?"

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you'd get that name from Anne too."

"No, I did some digging on my own. Although I have to admit I know nothing but the name, I couldn't find much of anything about her, just a mention in reports about you and Peter."

"She was... an old friend, and a topic I'd like to remain buried."

Slate nodded, "I will respect that. I guess we're not going to be killing each other then?"

"...Guess not."

"Than we're done." Slate turned to leave,

"Where are you going?" Morris asked.

"To help my team, what about you."

No answer presented itself to him; he just turned away, and left.

.

Morris walked in the direction of a random SDB; he walked slowly, kicking a rock out of habit. His plan was to accompany his walk with moody thoughts, however when his radio began picking up chatter his plans changed. It started with Nick saying how it was all beginning to look hopeless, and they just couldn't hold on, and then Kitten lightened the mood with a report of enemy reinforcements, she said that they would be engaging in about six minuets. Nick asked her where they were, and she answered that she could no longer see them as they had just crossed behind a tall blue building. Morris looked up at the tall blue building that he was walking beside, he never did like leaving his team alone, and it looked like he wouldn't have a choice but to engage as the famished roar of a Cannibal was heard around the corner, Morris raised and readied his rifle.

The Cannibal made its way around the corner, along with a handful of Sinners; Morris opened fire, shredding one of the Sinners as they approached. The Cannibal launched itself into the air as two more Sinners fell, landing right in front of him, and stripping the gun from his hands. The sword slashed across the stomach of the beast as Morris drew it, flipping through his fingers; he spun bringing the blade to the mouth of the creature cutting through to the spine. With some added torque, Morris rent the top of the Cannibals head, throwing it to the ground. The last Sinner lasted mere seconds against him as from around the corner three more Cannibals and a multitude of Sinners emerged. Morris walked forward with an indomitable stride, his side arm flashed into his hand flooding death towards his enmity. The Sinners made first contact with his blade, falling by the numbers as he himself sustained little damage. He charged at the Cannibal, preparing for a sundering blow, a blue spark flashed as he swung his sword, and upon contact the beast was torn in two, flipping the blade in preparation for a downward stabbing motion, Morris sunk his weapon deep into the torso of the second Cannibal, catching its bite with his forearm. Its teeth dug in as Morris released his grip on his sword, drawing again his side arm, and placing the barrel against the inner throat, he blew three holes through his opponent's head. Removing his sword with his torn arm as the body fell, he swung, and decapitated two charging Sinners. The remaining Cannibal and Sinners flooded towards him, and with bravery, yet trepidation, he fended them off, the fight was epic and arduous, as Morris, heavily wounded drove his blade through the final heart.

As the body fell, Morris heard Nick over the radio, "Not to sound ungrateful, but where are they?"

"I don't know," Kitten answered, "They should have re-entered into my line of sight by now."

"How many are we talking? And what kinds?"

"There were mostly Sinners, I believe four Cannibals, and a mean looking Murderer."

They continued to talk, but Morris wasn't listening, he stood motionless and bleeding, as the huge, grotesque, all-obliterating, Murderer approached. This was the closest he had ever been to a Murderer, and he noticed how the skin had been removed, as though with a rough and dull pitchfork, instead of red with blood, its muscles were grey and old. The creature's breadth was twice that of Bruce, and his height was approaching eight feet. From one wrist hung a long, barbed, chain, with a broken wall mount on the end. On the other was a short chain with a large lead block. Over time, it seemed, the lead brick had stretched the arm it was attached to, and as Morris observed the arm, he saw the hands, large sharp spikes had been driven beneath its fingernails, jutting out like claws, meant for torture of the Murdered, they held the capacity to be lethal weapons. The long barbed chain flew towards him with speed unbecoming mortality. As it made contact, the force of the throw wrapped the chain around him, and with a flick of its wrist, the Murderer inflicted massive tares, and pulled Morris to himself. Slamming into its chest, Morris felt the barbs piercing his armor, and into his flesh. With all his remaining strength, he jerked free his sword arm, striking the hand with enough force to cut to the bone of two fingers. Escorting his attack with another blow, he brought the weapon across the chest, leaving a gapping tare in the wake of his blade. Morris staggered backward as the chain fell from him, with barely the strength to stand, he watched as the Murderer swung the block over its head, and with nothing left, he observed as the brick came crashing down towards him.

.

He woke with a horrific headache. With the pain that he felt, he was surprised that his head was not dented. Slowly he made his way through the building, across the street, and to his room in the hotel. Lying on his bed, he held his recorder to his mouth, pressed the button, but had nothing to say. Finally having the time for thought, he realized that he had lost his temper with Kitten, which was his first mistake, the first of too many in his dealing with his team. He tossed away his recorder after tapping a few minuets of his breathing. From his wallet he removed a picture of a young Asian woman. She was in her detective uniform, saluting beside the GGS flag. They were told not to smile, but he could count her teeth. Morris had taken this picture from the box of her belongings, which was probably still in storage since she had no living family to give it to.

He found himself pacing, flipping his keys through his fingers, noticing his car keys; he realized that he had not used his car ever since he had joined the SWD. He smiled to himself, the place that was fast becoming the center of his life, was already beginning to ostracize him. A message rang on his phone, from Slate, already they had a new mission, and his presence was requested. He looked at his phone for near a minuet before ignoring the message. He threw himself onto his bed, staring at the ceiling as his phone rang. Every member of the team called at least twice. The ringing eventually stopped and there was a moment of silence. A light tapping graced the door, as it was softly pushed open, Bethany crept in.

"What do you want..."

"You're sulking... Yay! King owes me coffee! ...Why didn't you answer us...?"

"What's the point?"

"Now what's that supposed to mean, your part of the team."

"Barely."

Bethany came the rest of the way into the room, closing the door behind her and perching on the corner of the bed.

"Just because some of us don't get along too well, doesn't mean we're not still a team. We're family, and every close family has some bad blood. Don't worry about it, it adds drama!"

They laughed, but Morris didn't move, Bethany stood with impatience.

"If you're playing hooky, than so am I!"

Walking to his desk she grabbed his keys.

"And there's no fun is sitting here sulking," she said, tossing the keys at him. "So take me somewhere!"

Morris had seen enough action for the day, so the movies were out of the question, and having ones head bashed in (even if it is only half the pain), would squander anyone's appetite. On the way to the car, they decided on the perfect place, a floral garden.

.

"So what happened with my brother?"

"We talked."

"About what?"

"Nothing..."

"Peter Heeley?"

"I guess he told you... Yea."

"So who was he?"

"...A very bad man."

"What did he do?"

"If you don't know, consider yourself lucky."

"Common, tell me!"

"Its... bad."

"Like naughty...?"

"He killed people, and we're not going to talk about him."

"I strangled a thief with Bruce's intestine once."

"In a game, its worse when it's real."

"I've seen some bad stuff, I've actually been mauled myself... quite a few times."

"I said no."

"Common! Nobody's here, if I puke, I puke."

Morris still felt his migraine, and the thought of violence against even a mosquito sickened him to his gut. However he knew that she wouldn't leave the subject alone, so he decided to tell her one of the many acts of Peter Heeley. But which to tell? The one of when he held a banquet for the higher ups of an insurance company, and unbeknownst to them, fed them one of their loyal customers. After which he stuffed an apple in the mouth of each and roasted the entire room? Or when he forced nuns to paint an orgy under fear of torture? He decided to tell her of one of Peter's self called masterpieces, and the crime that started a very twisted and obscene relationship:

"My partner and I were called to investigate what was thought to be a kidnapping and possible assault. When we got there, we found it was neither. Three women had been tied around a huge glass container, their eyelids had been cut off, and their heads were nailed and glued to the glass. They had three things in common, the word 'foxy' used about them, the fact that they were all married, and that they were unfaithful to their spouses. Inside the container, three men were tied together, these were the lovers of the three, tied together and set aflame. The women were forced to watch their lies, or tales, burn. The heat against their exposed eyes blinded them, and the shattering glass killed them. Supposedly the inspiration came from the biblical character Samson, how he destroyed the fields of the Philistines. That was the first time I saw the signature: 'FAD' or the 'Fallen Angle of Death.'"

"That is gross... how many times have you told that story?"

"More times than I can count."

"Why?"

Morris took his time before answering.

"I'm kinda famous in the agency, because of him. Many of my superiors bought me drinks after some of the events that transpired. Three books have been written about what has been titled by many professors at the Detective Training Academy, the 'Morris Peter Incident.'"

"So...? ...What happened?"

"...Look Bethany, I really don't want to talk about this right now."

"OH COMMON! REALLY? You just start a story and then stop right when it gets good?!"

"None of it was good, and I don't like that you're enjoying it."

"...I didn't mean to offend you. But I really like a good 'cop and killer' story."

Morris laughed to himself, "than you wont like this one."

.

Days passed as they do, and nothing much happened, nothing worth writing about that is. Morris and Slate yelled at each other a bit, but Beth and Adam separated them. Morris visited Anne's lecture a few times but just heard some boring re-caps, nothing new, nothing fresh. They went on a few more dates, Morris and Bethany, to the eatery and the restaurant in the hotel. They sat at a table together, the mood freshened by the presence of cheesy nachos. The conversation went all over the place as Bethany tried to dig deeper into this mystery of Morris' adventures, but he dodged most every question. Her intellect guided her to meander a long road to find her answers.

"So when did you get out of the detective business?" The beginning of her roundabout strategy.

"It's a little more serious than that, Murder Detective is a position that you never really get out of."

"You still are one?"

"Yes and no."

"..."

"No, in that I don't work as one, but yes in that the oaths I made as one are still in effect."

"Oaths... like...?"

"First of all, you have to understand," he stalled, "that the position of Murder Detective is very small, less than ten thousand of us in total, for the entire GGS. The reason is that-."

"Just get to the point all ready."

"One of the oaths I took was that if I ever break a law, and this does not include traffic, or civil court. If I ever break a law in the criminal court, I will be executed without trial."

"...That's pretty harsh, isn't it?"

"Murder Detective's don't, as their names suggest, investigate every murder, we only deal with Capitol, Mass, and Serial Murder. We don't go after normal people, we go after monsters. As such, we're given special privileges, Murder Detectives don't need search warrants, and we don't have to write reports every time we discharge our weapon, we write one report per mission, even if it takes months, and they don't have to be very thorough. We're given a lot of leeway, so if we go rouge, even to the smallest degree, like petty larceny, we die. Murder Detectives don't usually retire until their really old, a lot of us die in the field. But we keep some of our special privileges, like we have free licenses to carry concealed weapons, we get insane discounts on all GGS stores and weapons suppliers, and in very extreme circumstances we hold the right to carry out an execution..."

"What kind of extreme circumstances?"

"If the relative of one of the people we neutralized or captured tries to return the favor, or other extreme situations like that."

"What kind of people did you 'neutralize or capture'?"

"Truly horrible people, monsters that I don't want to talk about."

"Monsters... like Peter Heeley...?"

"I don't want to tell those stories again."

"Just skip to the end, when did you last meet, as cop and killer?"

"...Fine, the last time I engaged him while on active duty as a detective, was in a Venus Mining Facility, he had... killed someone close to me...

.

Morris chased him, up some stairs, down some corridor, to some place. Peter stood, with his hand on the handle of the metal door to his escape; there were people present, security.

Peter smiled, "I know... how to overcome the fear of the dark."

Morris approached slowly, unsure of removing his gun from its holster.

"When you're scared... and dying. I've been scared, I used to die inside, but then I learned. And overcame the fear of the dark, and the darkness... and what lurks therein... Would you like to know...?"

"Go to hell Peter!"

No one seemed to notice them, he had time to draw, ready, and fire. But he hesitated.

"Put out the light in your soul, and make the land bright in comparison to your heart, then... enjoy the terror of those who sought your downfall, make them seek God and pray for salvation."

He fired his gun, as Peter flung open the door, blocking the bullet, the security ran to him with their usual lines, 'freeze,' 'drop the gun,' 'on your knee's,' and the like. In the agency he was trained for this, to first yell, 'I'm a detective!" Morris didn't yell. To slowly open the jacket or coat you were wearing, and show the badge. Morris dropped his gun, and fell to his knees. They didn't even realize who he was until over an hour of interrogation, when someone accidentally came across the badge in his jacket.

But what was he to say? There was no body to be found as she had been thrown down a mining shaft, her body crushed and burned to ash in the heat below, and the woman's death had been assumed so long ago. The security official in charge of his arrest approached him.

"Is this badge yours, son?"

Morris looked at the badge, for what felt like an eternity, before answering.

"Not anymore."...

.

Bethany's big doe eyes were on the brink of tears, as she asked at the end of his tale.

"You gave up?"

"No... I gave in, I had no other reason to live, but to find an kill, Peter Heeley."

"Did you? Ever kill him?"

Their phones rang; Slate was on her screen, as Pain called him.

"What now Pain?" He answered.

"What do you think, get over here fast."

Morris ended his call, rose from his chair, as it was cold outside he threw on his jacket. Inside his jacket there was the pocket on which his bandage would cling, of which he had fond memories. He was glad that the phones rang, because he could not answer her question.

They walked together across the street, making light conversation.

"So, Bruce told me that you were bold and vibrant in combat, when Cannibals aren't present, is it true?"

"Well, I don't like to boast." She said shyly.

"So? How do you fight?"

"Close up."

"With that Spirit knife?"

"Actually, I never use that thing, I just keep it with me; I fight with my gun."

"In close range..."

"I use my speed to get in close, and the gun for the power I don't have."

"I have got to see this."

"Hopefully we wont run into any Cannibals then."

.

Slate leaned against his chair waiting for them, as they entered the Immersion Bay he hopped into his chair. Telling them the SDB at which they were going to assemble, and to be quick about getting there. Morris and Bethany walked to their perspective chairs and logged in, not quite rushing like they were supposed to.

Morris appeared in the midst of the team about a minuet before Bethany, as the rest of Sorrow displayed their boredom by lounging around the room. As Bethany entered, Slate issued them out of the SDB and began their walk to their destined battle.

"This 'operation' is pretty complicated," Slate tried to explain a 'plan C' on a mission that they were not initially included in. "FArrow scouted a Black Blood team sneaking into a run down building, they observed the team stealing a disk-cassette. FArrow asked for reinforcements -as our last try at this didn't go so well - and Rage sent TArrow with instructions. Both FArrow and TArrow were under instructions to protect the Black Blood team with the DC, as Black Blood probably had a means of reading the DC that they were in the process of stealing. However, after Nicholas decided to let a few of the Assistance get past in order to not make Black Blood suspicious to our actions, the Black Blood team of four guys was all but demolished. Since the one and a half survivors of the Black Blood team had no possible hope of completing their mission, Nicholas moved in and killed them, relieving them of the DC."

The rest of Sorrow pretended to understand what was going on, as Bethany piped up from the back.

"So... what are we doing here?"

"Plan B died tragically when TArrow was attacked by a very talented player of the Assistance. So plan C, was to swap out the DC with a broken DC found in one of the computer stores in the area. First has already found a suitable one and is on their way to TArrow. Our job is to make sure that TArrow is still alive and kicking when First gets there, and then to make sure that the swap goes successfully."

"Why doesn't FArrow do that?" a random character asked.

"Because FArrow is currently getting their rear ends handed to them by the bulk of the Assistance's presence, and they wont be able to hold them for long."

As the team walked toward their dying compatriots, Slate gave them their assignments, Kitten and Wraith were to help the rapidly vanishing remnants of FArrow, while the rest were to flank and surround the few opponents of TArrow.

"Don't take them lightly," he added, "as they are cleaning the floor with TArrow, our close range specialists."

Morris leaned to Bethany, "We have specialists?"

"Yea, TArrow is close range, FArrow is long range, and First is medium."

"What are we?"

"We are whatever is needed at the time, we can go long range or short, which is why we don't really talk about ranges or specialists."

.

They increased the speed of their travels as sounds of gunfire reached them, flashes of light came from the grenades and other explosions. Kitten and Wraith split off from the group, running towards FArrow, while the rest prepared to engage with the opponents of TArrow.

Nicholas and three of his Militem had been chased inside a building, barricading themselves inside of a restroom, pressing against the door with all their might to hold out the Assistance. The star player of the Assistance, with brown and black armor and a nice coat, paced back and forth in the grand lobby, while eight guys wearing grey and red armor (instead of the usual white and orange of the regular Assistance troops) beat upon the door. Twelve of the regular troops were in the process of doing a horrible job of watching the door, as Slate and the others caught them by surprise.

Three dead and four injured before the remaining five figured out they were under attack, Sorrow felt kinda bad facing such an absent foe. The nine survivors of the first assault rose to arms, but before they could open fire Sorrow was upon them. Slate made contact like a leader with complete trust in the abilities of his team, going straight for the one that seemed the most in charge, he threw him to the wall, broke his neck, and walked directly into the building. Morris had been hoping to see Bethany in combat, everyone he had asked had said that she was impressive, but he had only seen her with Cannibals. As they engaged their foe, he watched her. Bethany usually stayed in the back of most fights, being the medic, and also Slate's sister, her role was ensured to be doubly safe. In this engagement however, possibly because of the large advantage they held over their opponents, she was one of the first to connect. As Morris held King and Bruce back, Bethany faced off against three of the Assistance, flowing past the first with a style that appeared as the mixture of Judo and Ballet. Accompanied with loud explosions, she made her way past the first two, approaching the last as the other's fell. With brilliant speed she ducked around him, firing her gun while it was still in its holster as she walked past. Morris was deeply impressed as they followed Slate, the entire battle happening before the door had closed behind him.

There was a desk, on the far side of the very large lobby, but no cover was to be found near the restroom that TArrow had taken up refuge. The Assistance pounded on the door, breaking it through as Sorrow entered the building. TArrow was in no condition to put up a fight as they were gunned down.

"Spread out." Slate said as the eight grey and reds raised their rifles, three stayed by their star, while the other five began their charge, Sorrow spread out as they returned fire. Bruce, being the biggest target in the room, was the first to go, rather pleasantly with a shot through the heart. No one else was taken down on either side, as the majority of shots fired in a tense environment, miss their mark. Slate made first contact, flashing past the first with a blue spark, knife in hand, felling another with his quick draw as his first opponent's head hit the floor. Ezra and King were two of the first to go, as both were specialized in mid range combat and neither was all that good with the hand-to-hand stuff. To Slate's left, Morris and Pain tore into their foe, carving into his enemies side with the sword, Morris kicked at his legs bringing him to the ground and driving the blade through into the floor. Pain twisted his opponent around by the arm, piercing both lungs with one of his thin knifes, dropping him to the ground, to die with time. One of the charging Assistance members aimed for Bethany, missing three shots with his overpowered, semi-automatic rifle as she ran in close, grappling with him. Three gunshots fired as she rolled away from his corpse.

The air was chill, as combat had subsided with the constant suspicion of revival. The star player had the DC in his hand, with the three remaining grey and reds protecting him. Slate, Pain, Bethany, and Morris held them at gunpoint in a precarious impasse. Remembering the pain that their opponents felt, Slate stepped forward.

"Just hand it over, and nobody else has to wake up sore."

The three grey and reds whispered nervously to each other, while the star player just smiled, running his fingers through his extensively pampered hair, "That's not going to happen."

"We could just gun you down here."

"Four on four, do you think you would win? Don't forget that the bulk of our forces are on the way."

One of the grey and red's turned to him, whispering in a very concerned tone, Slate used their conversation to create a strategy. Four on four are not good odds for a shoot out, especially when reinforcements could be coming in any moment. While the star player finished his conversation with his men, Slate spoke to Pain without turning from his opponents, "Pain, don't die." A nod was his reply, as Pain spoke under his breath, "I reject." And the room grew cold as the rendering of his body flashed and partially came undone, ice closed in around him, freezing his skin to a bulletproof solidity.

"OH DAMN!" The three grey and reds screamed, "ITS HIM!" They franticly looked around for the absent cover while pushing and pulling their star player, "get out of here!" They yelled at him as they tried to cover his escape. Just as the situation reached the climax before violence, the glass door in the front of the building screeched open, and a young man walked in. Blue jeans, white tee, and a plaid button down flung over like a jacket. The Assistance members were shocked to see him, and as he walked closer, the star player stammered, "What are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same thing, the Trusted could handle this, why are you here?"

"I was overseeing this-."

"You were getting in the way."

Morris moved to speak, but Slate silenced him with a motion. As the man drew closer, the star player spluttered a feeble excuse; the man placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Get out of here, and let the Trusted do their job."

The star player moped like a spoiled child, with his hands hanging limply by his sides, he walked out of the building, taking the DC with him. Morris moved to engage, but Slate grabbed his arm.

"Don't," he said.

"He's getting away-."

"I know."

"And you're just going to-."

"I've got this."

"He just went-."

"Let me handle this."

The young man in plaid watched the star player brood away before turning to the three Trusted, as they were apparently called.

"My apologies, now why couldn't you handle this?" He said pointing to Slate and the rest.

"Sir," they replied, "That's that guy, with the frosty powers!"

"He calls it the Void, don't insult him."

"We would have been better if G wasn't here, we could hardy fight, trying to protect his dumb ass. And the frosty guy... or Mr. Void here, just complicated matters."

The man in plaid turned to Slate in a calm voice, "What does the SWD want with our disk-cassette?"

"Black Blood wants it, so we're curious."

"Black Blood is no longer associated with us, we told them on countless occasions not to use Hell's Jurisdiction to market their illegal merchandise, but they continually tried to sneak it past us."

"Why do you have DCs here in the game?"

Morris watched the man in plaid like a hawk, he wasn't just having a conversation with Slate, he was planning an escape, looking over the room. With one hand behind his back, the man could have been communicating with the three Trusted, and as it was still four on four, any advantage could win an engagement.

"He's planning something." Morris whispered to Slate, but was ignored as the man in plaid answered the question.

"It's a hobby, you could say, just something we do."

"A hobby."

"Yes."

"Inside an immersion game?"

"We are... excessive gamers."

Morris noticed one of the Trusted stepping back, to get a better view of the hand behind the man's back, while the other two were watching the hand as well. The man in plaid had stopped looking around, which meant that he had found his exit, and was waiting for the right time.

"He's planning something." Morris tried again, and again was ignored as Slate continued with their conversation.

"Why is Black Blood so interested with your hobby?"

"They probably think something's on there-."

"Is anything on there?"

The man in plaid stepped backwards, quickly switching his weight to his other foot. Morris saw this as his escape attempt, and as Slate was not responding to it, Morris pushed him out of the way, raising his rifle to fire. The man in plaid was much faster than Morris had expected, darting into the rest room with near untraceable speed. Morris followed, and as Slate found his balance Sorrow and the Trusted engaged.

Why do bathrooms have windows? Morris asked himself as he caught a brief glimpse of the plaid shirt disappearing from view. Quite proud of his in game physique, Morris followed through the small window, falling onto the small street than ran beside the building, and was hot on the trail. He had expected Slate or the others to contact him by radio when they finished with the Trusted, but no words came as he single handedly pursued. Maybe he should have helped, four on three would have been a much quicker fight, but the young man in plaid was a much more important character. He chased him down small streets, and up major ones; across cross roads, and around roundabouts they ran. The man in plaid ran towards an old, haunted looking building, towards a cellar door with a stain that appeared as a skeletal scull. The man threw open the cellar doors, but before he could enter, Morris bulldozed into him with a tackle that would make a linebacker proud. There was about a half flight of stairs, and a concrete floor, safe to say, the landing was painful for both parties. Morris skidded to a stop as the man in plaid tried to get up, drawing his side arm (as his rifle and sword were left somewhere in the street, its kinda hard to run with a rifle, and especially with a sword bouncing on your hip... quite difficult) and looking down the sights. "Don't move."

Morris looked around the room, completely empty save an awkward looking alter with a monster carved at the top, three tongues extended from its mouth. The rest of the room was an empty grey, plastered with a material closely related to concrete. The man in plaid was slowly creeping, crawling back towards the stairs. "Don't move!" Morris yelled at him, rising to his feet as a loud crack echoed throughout the small room, looking down Morris saw the spider web crack, centering beneath his feet. He looked at the man in plaid who was looking at him, and simultaneously they dove for the stairs. The floor caved in with a noise like thunder, and the whole room came tumbling down. Time itself seemed to slow down for an instant, giving Morris a second to observe his collapsing environment, the floor he had been standing on was not the base of the stairs, and during his dissent he caught a glimpse down, the stairs went farther then his eyes could see. As he made this realization, time seemed to resume as he, and the man in plaid, and at least a ton of bricks went tumbling down the stairway to hell.

.

Morris opened his eyes; the fall had done much damage, and had even knocked the helmet from his head. He saw the man sitting against the wall and quickly tried to reach for his gun that lay beside his head, but his arm didn't respond. His other arm wasn't answering either; neither did his legs, due to his injuries he was in near complete paralysis. Morris lay there, and reluctantly healed. The man across had plenty of injuries as well, but not as severe as his. "So, why am I still alive?" Morris asked him.

"I wasn't sure you were."

"I would say you're under arrest for resisting interrogation, but they would be empty words."

The man slowly got up, and hobbled over to him, arranging his legs and arms so they would heal properly. Removing a small vial of solvent, he began treating Morris' wounds.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Do you know where we are?"

Morris looked around; they were in a dark hallway. He assumed that they were in some kind of Adventure, but other than that he had no idea.

"...Not really..."

"It's a Hunting Adventure, and it's not an easy one."

"Than why did you come here?"

"You were chasing me."

"Because you were running."

This line of reasoning is called circular logic, and seeing as it wasn't going anywhere, the conversation fell silent. The two of them sat around for a while till they had healed enough to move with little difficulty.

"It doesn't matter how far into an Adventure you go," the man said, "once the door closes, the Adventure is reset for anyone who enters after. My plan was to wait behind the closed door until you left, and then go my merry way. But you tackled me, and went far enough into the room to trigger the entrance collapse."

"Wait... so nobody can follow us in here?"

"Nope."

"So my plan of waiting for backup...?"

"Not going to happen, they will enter into their own copy."

"...darn..."

Morris sat and quietly moped, as the other guy poked around the debris wall for an exit. Not finding one he turned to Morris.

"Since the entrance is completely blocked, we have to go forward."

"And you want me to go with you..."

"I need the help to get through this."

Morris pondered the situation, the way he saw it, he could stay there and try to dig his way out, but he had been knocked unconscious during the fall and didn't know how far it was. On the other hand he could travel with the guy in plaid, and possibly learn something important, not much of a difficult decision really, but his head was still hurting from the fall. "Fine," he said, crawling to his feet, hobbling over to his new friend.

The two wobbled together, as all four of their legs had been broken and had yet to heal completely. They made light conversation as they walked at the speed of wise old turtles.

"What's your name by the way?" Morris began.

"Serenus."

"Serenus? That's your name?"

"Yea."

"Is that like your gamer tag or were your parents on something?"

"You could call it a gamer tag."

"And what about your friend back there?"

"His name is Ginseng."

"His gamer tag?"

"Yep."

"And..." Morris asked, checking off questions, "Why were you running?"

"Because you were chasing me."

They hobbled on, a little faster now as they had healed a little more.

"Judging by the marks and scratches on the walls," Serenus said, feeling some gouges, "I think this is an Ambush Adventure."

"An ambush?"

"It looks like a regular Trail Adventure, except for the small clue of slight claw marks in the wall. Shaped like a very easy simple maze, it is pretty much just a Trial, usually three or four possible paths to take, all but one of them lead through the place where the ambush is set up, one leads straight through to the end."

"What kind of ambush? What enemies?"

"The only kind of enemy that would wait by a road, Thieves, most of these Adventures have just a few Thieves and many Henchmen and Murderers. Henchmen are the usual Sinners in the game, just with upgraded intelligence."

"I know, I've run into them before."

"Their my favorite enemies, especially when there are a lot of them."

They walked on, so far that the rock wall behind them was too far away to see, and the nothing was before them but more hallway.

"How far does this hall go before the Adventure starts?"

"Usually the length of a Trail is both how far away the exit area will be from the entrance, and how difficult the opposition will be, it is multiplied in Ambush Adventures, mainly because it is straight, instead of tied up in a maze."

Way at the end, a fork in the road was seen, and the hall seemed to open up into a very large passage way. "This could be fun." Serenus remarked.

"And why is that?"

"Because it's not an Ambush Adventure, it's a Toll."

"A what?"

"Back in the old days, bandits and other bad people would find a really obscure road, where there was very little presence of security or guards, and set up a toll booth."

"So is this better or worse than an Ambush."

"Much better, in an ambush, a few enemies jump you when you're unprepared, in a toll, a whole lot of enemies, just step out in front of you."

"Just how many is a whole lot?"

As they made there way to the fork in the road, the hall opened up into a very large cavern. The road split in front of what looked like a hill, the left side declined, a straight road that went as far as the eye could see. While the right side was on an incline, and went up to what looked like an underground shelter. Serenus explained their predicament.

"The road splits into two here, but the both come back together, and at that crossroad lies the toll. The left road goes straight to the toll, and when you get there, a bunch of enemies, about five or six, step out in front of you. You can either give them something of worth, or fight, if you fight however, they call in reinforcements, and you have to run like hell, all the way to the end of the Trail. The right road however, goes to the underground shelter; it is where the Thieves, their Henchmen, and the Murderers all hold up. It is there where the reinforcements are called from."

Either fight six, and run from hundreds, or just fight hundreds.

"I never liked running." Morris decided, and Serenus agreed whole-heartedly. The bunker that they were going to assault had very few guards, just a Murderer at the door. The two of them snuck up close to the building, shimmying along the wall. Using hand signals, they devised a plan, and Serenus charged. Tackling the Murderer by the legs with a vibrant rush, Serenus took the monster to the ground, as Morris drove his knife through its neck, quick and clean.

"By the way," Morris turned to Serenus, "do you have any weapons?"

He pulled from under his plaid shirt, a small gun.

"As long as you have something." Morris wished that he had something a little more, but a small gun is better than nothing.

"Just have twelve bullets though," he said, putting it back in his pants.

"Twelve bullets? Where is your magazine holster?"

"I forgot to bring it..."

Morris was speechless, how does one forget to bring something, especially when the weapons room has a shelf that automatically displays the stuff you usually bring.

"Let me get one of yours," Serenus asked, pointing to Morris' magazine holster. He pulled one out, and gave it over, it fit perfectly. "See? Its not that bad, you'll just have to reload me."

"How do you forget magazines?"

The two of them took opposite sides of the large mechanical door; a lever on one side was used to open it. The doors opened slowly, it was dark inside, and the rustling of the monstrosities within was all that was needed to send chills down the spine. Morris noticed how carefully Serenus entered into the room, keeping his gun raised, keeping his eyes peeled. A sick scream sounded as four Sinners rushed them, they went down easily, and the duo skulked further into room. The base was pretty big, and from the room they were in, they could see into many of the rooms connecting, as large windows replaced most of the walls, the glass busted out. The room they were in went all the way up, for three stories, and from their position they could see into many of the rooms on both of the other floors. "Where are all of the enemies?" Morris asked, as they hadn't seen a single one since the four. Serenus began to answer as they stepped into the center of the room, the mechanical door slammed shut, sick screams were heard from all around, and from every floor. The booming steps of Murderers vibrated throughout the base.

"I thought you said there weren't going to be any ambushes!"

"How was I supposed to know, I thought we had the element of surprise!"

A few Sinners jumped from the other floors, landing around them. Morris threw him another magazine as they dispatched them left and right. Looking around franticly they made a mad dash for the stairs, something about higher ground or the like.

"We should think about retreating." Morris commented as they held up in the stair well. "I saw some windows on the third floor going out side."

"Where did you think I was going?" He replied as Morris handed him another two magazines. "We're going to be running through the brunt of the enemies though, so stay behind me."

"Why should I stay behind?"

"Because I don't think you can do this." He said, extending his hand as flames softly enveloped them. The flames were like Slate's, only brighter, and much smoother, Morris couldn't even feel the heat off of them.

"Right behind you it is." Morris said, pushing Serenus up the stairs and into a fresh supply of enmity. Morris covered from behind; shooting whatever head got past Serenus and keeping the ascending monsters at bay. All the while Serenus fought, his entire arm enveloped, and using it like a blade he cut down his foe. At the first break in enemy lines the two of them rushed through, ducking arms and claws, and the random stone weights of the Murderers. As of yet they had not seen a single Thief, until they made it onto the third floor, two Thieves stood side by side, along with a handful of their Henchmen and a single Murderer. Serenus looked over the banister to the first floor, very few creatures were still down there. "We should jump, and try to break through the door."

Morris saw that the odds were not quite in their favor, but jumping over a two story high banister was a crazy idea. "And why should we do that?" He asked as the monsters crawled up the stairs behind them, getting closer and closer.

"Fighting a Thief is difficult enough when there is only one, but when it's not alone, and we are surrounded, this is a one way battle."

"If your scared, cover the stairs, leave the rest to me." Morris reconsidered those words right after saying them, and as Serenus charged the ascending monsters, Morris faced off against the rest. They stood in stalemate, Morris hated how some of the enemies were programmed to do this, to wait until their opponent acts first, if felt like he was postponing a horrible demise. He fired a bullet through the head of one of the Sinners, hoping that the programmed stalemate would not be disturbed if one of the side characters were dispatched, no such luck, both of the Thieves screeched together, and the Murderer roared, the Sinners rushed first and Morris raised his pistol. Firing as fast as he could while back peddling was just enough to hold off the Sinners, but the Thieves still closed in, too fast for him to hit, they ducked and weaved out of his line of fire, the Murderer however just kept barreling forwarded, as pesky little bullets from a tiny little hand gun weren't going to slow him down. Without any other worthwhile coarse of action, Morris kept backpedaling, and kept firing off at his opponents, and they kept gaining ground. With a rapid move, one of the Thieves ducked around behind him, and his battle strategy of backpedaling forever was crushed as he holstered his gun, and drew his knife. He swung at the one behind him, and ducked a swipe from the other, as he swung at the other and ducked from the first. As he fought he grew faster and faster, swinging and ducking for all he was worth. If you're scared, go cover the stairs, stupid stupid stupid. Morris took no relief in the fact that this wasn't real, he wasn't going to die for real, just in a fictitious story, it would hurt like hell, but it wasn't real. That realization didn't help him. One of the Thieves stabbed at him with its spirit hands, he ducked just in time but the fingers touched across his arm, reminding him of a knife fight he had with one of the criminals he had been sent to subdue, a criminal who called himself the Blood Red Knife. Flames exploded from him as he reenacted what he had done to Blood Red Knife, he had ducked around behind him, with a punch to the kidneys, slipping his hands above the shoulders, and beneath the chin he had snapped his neck. The first Thief fell, as the second approached, it's movements seemed slower to him as he stood enveloped in his flames, he drew his gun as the monster tried to dodge, firing the gun as the creature tried to duck, the bullet tore straight through the head and the it fell at his feet.

Both Thieves dead, Morris looked toward his final opponent, the lumbering Murderer. With very little room between the banister and the wall, it was going to be a tight fight, and still enflamed, he engaged. Running up the monsters body, Morris ascended to gain a lethal position near his enemy's head, but the Murderer grabbed his leg, throwing him to the ground. Looking up at the oncoming crushing step, a view that would have meant game over before, Morris ducked out from beneath it, as the foot barely missed him, but before he could react again, he received a vicious kick into his side. For such a big monster, the Murderer was incredibly quick in close combat, Morris thought as he went sliding across the floor. Giving it his all, he scrapped himself up, his flames had been put out by the kick, but at least he had learned how to use them. The Murderer approached, swinging his brick and chain, Morris thought about dodging it, but a broken hip wont answer the call to jump and roll. As the monster passed the entrance to the stairwell, Serenus returned, his fist encased in a bright blue ball of fire, smashed into the ribs, and the Murderer, taken off guard by the sneak attack, fell to the side, and over the banister, falling to his demise.

"You did well." Serenus said, as Morris tried to remain standing.

"That thing was quick."

"Murderers should be fought from outside their range, keep your distance."

"Yea... I should have tried that, I just thought that with my speed and all."

"Always keep your wits about you, next time you might not be so lucky."

"But that's all of them, right?"

"No," he said, looking around the third floor, "there is usually a Master Thief in all Toll Adventures."

"oh, common..."

A sick scream came from the stairwell, "I had set up a little barricade down there," Serenus said, "but it looks like they just broke through."

"Than what are we waiting for." The two of them made a rush for the windows, breaking through them, it wasn't a straight fall to the ground, as each floor stuck out a little farther than the one above. Floor by floor they jumped down to the ground.

"About this Master Thief," Serenus said, catching his breath when they finally reached the ground. "It will be waiting for us at the toll at the crossroads."

"Why didn't we go down that road first?"

"Something about how you didn't like running away from enemies."

"Didn't we just run away from the enemies in the building?"

"I wont tell if you don't, but they're going to be coming out of this building pretty soon, and I don't like running away from the same opponent twice."

They made their way down the road, to the toll, a small low fence across the path.

"Usually the Master Thief stays up in the bunker, but when you invade the bunker first, it changes the storyline. The roles are reversed, instead of it being a toll; it becomes a 'chase.' You just happen to catch up to him and his guards at the crossroads."

"But what if you don't want to catch up?"

"Why would you assault his bunker if you didn't want to get him? I guess the programmers didn't think of that."

In order to hold up their part of the storyline, Morris and Serenus increased speed, catching up with the Master Thief and his guards of two Murderers. The Murderers roared, as the Master Thief slowly backed away.

"I got the Thief if you get the Murderers," Morris offered, remembering his fight with the last Murderer.

"Works for me." Serenus stepped forward, and the Murderers walked towards him, while Morris snuck around. Halfway around, and in position to attack the Master Thief, Morris thought about his strategy. He didn't really want to fight the Master Thief, and if the Master Thief happened to escape while he and Serenus had a two on two fight, it wouldn't look bad... Re-igniting his flames, Morris rushed into one of the Murderers, knocking him to the ground. Serenus took the opportunity, dashing in he struck like a viper, his hand encased in flames, struck through the head of the Murderer.

"I thought this was my fight?"

"Um, you're welcome...?"

The second Murderer swung the stone on the end of his chain, Serenus ducked superbly, while Morris caught it like a football, straight in the chest. Serenus retaliated with a vast series of blows, both to the body and legs, bringing the monster to its knees, and in finally he took its head off with a blow from the back of his hand. As his vision blurred, Morris took note of the increased speed and strength that the blue flames gave its owner. He slowly rose to his feet, and standing directly in front of them, was the Master Thief. Being the first time he had ever seen a Master Thief, he took the time to observe it. Just a hair taller than a usual Thief, the Master Thief looked about the same, the lids still cut from the eyes, but the eyes themselves were bigger. Its mouth was sown shut, and its legs massively muscular. It did not have spirit hands like the Thief, and its hands were not as big, but it did have four arms. It made a loud, frightening whistling sound, as it tried to scream, flexing its four arms. Morris was just getting his whereabouts back, as he tapped Serenus on the shoulder. "I've got this," he said walking past. This enemy was probably very fast, so he took his time, and approached slowly, tossing his knife from hand to hand. The Master Thief lunged like a bullet, and as it approached him it leapt, in the air the creature's matter changed, its entire body becoming spirit. Morris ducked down as fast as he could as the monster flew over.

"What did you expect," Serenus laughed, "it's a Master Thief."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Thieves have spirit hands, because they are usually pick pockets, and they practice slight of hand. Master thieves, on the other hand, break into the most secure and obscure locations, steal whatever, and then disappear. It's a little more than slight of hand."

The enemy lunged twice more, before ending its attack. As soon as it was still, Morris unloaded his pistol towards it, but it was even faster than the Thieves, ducking the bullets with ease. "How do I kill this thing?" Morris turned to Serenus, who seemed to know everything about the game.

"It can only turn to spirit when it is off the ground, or else it will fall through the ground, so you have to put something in the place where it will return to solidity."

"Easier said than done?"

"Wouldn't have the word 'Master' in the name if it wasn't."

Morris chased after it with his little knife and gun. Timing it just right, he would fire a bullet at the place it was going to land, just an instant before it would land there. But in mid air it would twist its body, changing its trajectory and landing place. All this Morris did while ducking and dodging and diving out of the way.

"A little help would be appreciated."

Serenus waived his gun in the air, "all empty." In mid dive, Morris pulled a magazine out of his holster, tossing it to him. But as Serenus caught the magazine, the Master Thief's attention turned to him, and it lunged. There was not enough time for Serenus to load the gun as the creature closed in, and Morris watched helplessly from the side. Serenus didn't duck, nor did he dive, he didn't dodge to the side, or take any action whatsoever, he just stood. And as the monster closed in Serenus just watched it approach, a blue flame, smooth like a curtain, rose before him. Not violent or brutal like the flames of Slate, but pure, docile, and serene. The monster leapt and turned to spirit, and crashed abruptly into the flame, Serenus wasn't even touched. As the Master Thief fell, the flames dispersed immediately, as with the back of his hand, Serenus threw his opponent to the wall, with lethal, crushing force.

Morris saw that he was strong, he didn't need the gun. 'Need help to get through the Adventure,' that was a definite lie, but there must have been a reason.

"You needed my help? I don't believe it."

"What can I say? I get lonely."

"You didn't want me to see your strength."

"I'd rather be known for my heart."

"Why didn't you kill me after the fall, I was out, I wouldn't have known."

Serenus was silent for a second; "I saw it as an opportunity."

"For what?"

"To turn an enemy into a friend."

They turned together to the long dark hallway that led to the exit.

.

Morris and Serenus emerged from the adventure like conquers. Morris with his bruises and breaks, healing at their improved rate, and Serenus, without a mark. They strode toward what looked like a volcano, standing from the ground two stories. Monsters and Sinners poured over of the lip of the volcano, their cries and roars innumerable. "There is an art to this," Serenus said as he pulled Morris out of the way. Four gamers ran in, guns blazing, and less than half a story up, were shredded by the frothing horde.

"Where did they come from?" Morris asked as a brave duo barreled past.

"This volcano houses a powerful weapon, everyone knows about it, and everybody tries."

"So what are we waiting for?"

"A group that has at least half a chance, they'll get us half way there."

"Isn't that cheating?"

"It's not cheating if it's not breaking a written rule, and there aren't any written rules in the game."

As he finished speaking, a team of twelve gamers entered, carrying only the finest gear. Bouldering in with more ferocity than Sparta, accompanied with screams, cries and explosions they charged. Quiet, silent as ballerina mice, Morris and Serenus snuck in behind them. The twelve warriors made volatile contact with the monstrosity of Sinners, and held firm even in the face of ever increasingly overwhelming force. On the ridge of the volcano, the first man died, pierced through the gut. His demise began the downfall of the team, as one by one they fell in increasingly devilish arrays of brutality. From the brink of the volcano, Morris could see inside. Deep inside, three holes sat around the black trident hilt of a sword, each hole stretching deeper into the ground, reaching to the depths. All of the monsters and Sinners poured out from these three doorways to hell.

"That is one of three Satan's Tongues, the most powerful weapon of the game."

"Ooo, pretty..."

They talked as tens of gamers fought and died all around.

"So how do we get down there?" Morris asked, as there were too many Sinners in the way, and they seemed to have a limitless supply of reinforcements.

"Like this." Was the answer, as Serenus picked up two of the twelve corpses, holding them close like shields. With a tremendous amount of trepidation and whining, Morris followed suit.

"This is most definitely cheating." Morris complained as the corpses absorbed every claw and stab of the passing enemies.

"Shut up and waddle." The stark reply.

Even though their genius plan was the crux of their approaching victory, it was the people who valiantly gave their lives that made it all possible. Tens of tens entered into the volcano to their doom, none noticing as Morris and Serenus skulked closer and closer to the beckoning hilt. Suffice to say, it wasn't a heroic moment when Morris grabbed handle and drew the blade. The blade was long, straight and narrow; black as midnight, and serrated. It looked rough, microscopic spikes all over, likened unto the anatomy it was named. Rough but lethal; deadly, it sat in his hand, overwhelming him with the feeling of brutal power.

"Beautiful, isn't it." Serenus asked, as Morris all but wiped a tear from his eye.

They stood on the ground in between the three pits, a safe haven of sorts. A step off in any direction would ensue the full wrath of the surrounding monsters, and the gamers would not be very helpful.

"So how do we get out of here?" Morris expected another cowardly tactic.

"You got the sword... charge."

"Wait, just like that?"

"Yep, give me your gun first."

"Why?"

"You got a sword! I need something." Morris reluctantly handed over his sidearm and magazine holster. "Thank you," as Serenus reloaded, putting excess magazines all through his belt and pants and pockets. "It makes them easer to get to, and makes reloading faster."

Morris took a running stance, slightly hesitant, "on three?" He asked.

"You can go on three, I'm going of four, you got the sword, so you do all the charging."

And Morris charged, slowly, quietly, like a paranoid, anxious mouse, he charged. As there was so little in their escapade to merit a brave and noble tale, a little mousey escape would take little from the drama. But as he had assumed, as he made his way farther from the safe haven, the monsters noticed him, all of them. And Morris' slow and steady, stealthy retreat, became as all out, mad dash escape, with Serenus hot on his tail. A duck here, a cut there, Morris ran and dodged past and through the enemies until he made it to the ridge. He quickly hid the sword from the charging gamers, and as swiftly as he could, scuttled his way down the side of the volcano, the monsters still targeted him, but the gamers, unbeknownst to themselves, covered his escape. At the foot of the volcano, Serenus pulled Morris to the side, for the first time, Morris noticed where this volcano was, in the middle of a city, large buildings all around.

"What is a volcano doing in the middle of a city?" Morris asked as a gamer died beside him, his friends came to his rescue, killing the monster that was headed for the sword.

"This is where the sword was. When a wielder of one of Satan's Tongues dies, the sword falls to the ground like all weapons, but as it lies there, its 'power' is released into the ground. At first, the ground on which it lies sinks, then three tiny holes appear. Smoke rises from these holes, and they grow larger, and as they grow larger, the sword sinks deeper. Then when the three holes are big enough, and they stretch deep enough, lava flows from the ground, creating this volcano. Immediately after the lava flow, the lava hardens and the sword rises to the top, hilt first, and as the hilt breaks the surface of the lava, the three holes open up again, and monsters from hell pour forth. Unless, at any time before that, somebody picks up the sword."

Morris looked at him in disbelief, "So many points of that story make no sense."

"First of all, it's a game, it doesn't have to make perfect sense. And secondly, the Satan's Tongues have some role to play in the main storyline."

"So that is this swords name?" Morris looked at the rough blade in his hand, "quite a name, Satan-" As he spoke the name the blade reacted; every microscopic spike jabbed out, making the whole blade look like a porcupine. Each spine went back to its usual size and position after a few seconds as Morris overcame his shock, "so cool."

"It has a lot of powers, but none of them are written about so the wielder has to guess them out himself."

"I have got to kill something with this." Morris was giddy; he jumped to his feet and stepped out from behind their little cover. Monsters and gamers abounded alike, and one as the other he cut them down. The sword didn't swing faster, or cut deeper, it was dull compared to his other blade. It was heavier, and wielded more as a mace than a sword, but when it made contact, it knocked the living daylights out of anything it hit. Morris was having the most fun imaginable, as he took down a gamer, decked out in heavy armor, with a large melee weapon. Took him down with one stroke, and went on for more. So much fun was he having, that he didn't feel the light earthquake, only when it became a sever earthquake did he notice it. The ground shook and the surrounding building threatened to fall, Morris looked to Serenus for an explanation.

"The volcano was brought about by the sword, what did you thing would happen when it was removed?" Serenus led him out of the area via one of the buildings around. On the building's layout map, it showed a wall cutting the building in half, with no way past, while the exit they required lay on the other side. "You're supposed to use the sword to break the wall," Morris would have been lost without Serenus as together they escaped the crumbling building.

In their entire journey, they had cheated an innumerable amount. Morris and Serenus turned around to watch the entire half-mile radius, crumble to the ground.

"All that rises up around one simple weapon?"

"Yea."

"Who builds it, according the game's storyline?"

"Nobody knows yet, it is assumed that the Faithful of Golgotha build the structures so nobody sees the volcano of the sword, but no one knows for sure."

"Who are the Faithful?"

"People who in life worshiped Satan, however since Satan doesn't get out much, nobody knows what he looks like. So Golgotha pretends to be Satan to get the worship. When one of these worshipers dies, they go to hell of coarse, but under different tortures, they are put into the fires of hell until all their flesh is burned away, and after their burning, when their bodies are reduced to skeletons, they are given 'new life' to serve Golgotha."

"That is quite a storyline."

"Yes it is," Serenus turned to walk away.

"Wait, what about the sword? Don't you want it?"

"No, it's yours."

"Its not like I really earned it though."

"Than take it as a token of friendship."

Morris was taken back, he knew that the SWD would have another mission to get the Disk-Cassette, and he didn't know Serenus well enough to risk doing anything about it.

"What do you want in return?"

"A simple favor."

"You know there are many things that I cannot do."

"Don't hold back against the Assistance, when you kill members of the Trusted, make it quick, and don't kill anybody higher."

"Why not?"

"Because the members in white and orange keep their pain level on the lowest setting. The grey and reds keep it on ten, and anyone in special armor, or clothing," Serenus paused for a second, possibly for effect, "we keep it on fifty."

"I'll try, but the members of the SWD have their pain levels on fifty too."

"And whenever we try to take something from you, or interfere with your missions, we will show you the same courtesy."

Morris had to word his answer correctly, as to not end a possible alliance now, or start a painful war later. "If I can, I will. You have my word."

"I will remember all the pain you spare," Serenus smiled, taking a second to conclude, "and all you inflict." With a wave he turned and walked away, down the street. Morris took his new blade and went the other direction.

.

Morris slowly got up from the chair, with a near ecstatic Bethany hopping in front of him.

"I won! I'm so lucky!" She all but shouted.

"What did I miss?"

"We've been taking ten minuet shifts waiting for you to wake up, since you lost your helmet and all. The deal was that every shift that passed, we would raise the pot one credit, to be split between the losers and I won! So lucky!"

"You're going to split it with me right?" He asked as they walked to the eatery.

"...Why would I split it with you?"

"Because I'm the center of the bet..."

"...I don't follow..."

After that awkward moment, they made their way, Bethany accompanying him as she had already eaten. "So," She waited with peak curiosity as Morris took his seat with his plate, "what happened?"

"When?"

"You know, after you socked Slate, took command and went chasing after that guy, laving us to fight... alone..."

"Are you angry?"

"Not like Slate, he's pretty pissed at you. And after hearing his plan, I have to say I agreed with him. I also understand why he didn't go over the plan with the rest of us at the time."

"It all worked out at the end, I learned a lot about them."

"And that would have mattered if you had acted... differently."

"Just out of satirical curiosity, what was his plan?"

"Don't be like that Morris," She pushed away from the table, "And don't forget he's my brother, who's side do you think I'm on here?" Standing up, she walked away.

"Bethany! Common!"

"Enjoy your lunch," she turned to him while still walking away, "Because you have lots of debriefing afterwards."

Debriefing, a fun word, the prefix 'de-' is used in this case to indicate removal or reversal. So one can only assume that a 'de-briefing' will be the 'removal' of the definition of the word 'brief.' Or, the 'reversal' of its meaning, like an antonym, maybe lengthy, or prolonged. Oddly enough, even though Morris sat in Rage's office being grilled by the Communia, the Dux, and Anne, the time seemed to fly by, as he was only thinking of Bethany. Throughout the 'debriefing' Morris held to the decision to speak to Bethany immediately following. But he realized, as he left his father's office, that he wouldn't know what to say, and so his mind changed, leaning to the favor of a slight detour. He found his way to Anne's lecture just as she was beginning. If his thoughts were a little less troubled, he might have wondered just how Anne had made it there before him, and set up for her lecture, when she was still talking with Rage and Timmy when he departed. But due to the before mentioned troubling of the thoughts, he didn't even notice...

.

All that is known of Immersion Technology, other than its obvious in game application, is that it was invented by Lucas Swan. This man believed in the power of his creation so deeply, that he chose to die, rather than to see it fall into the wrong hands. As you know, Judas tried to be true to his brother's last wish, but under the constant bereavement of the heads of the four departments, and in a moment of weakness, he gave in to pressure, removing it from the shelf. His personal feeling interrupted his work on countless occasions, making the deciphering of Lucas' remaining notes a very slow and tedious undertaking. And before long, he could no longer continue, and took an indefinite leave of absents. No new developments came for Immersion Technology while Judas was away, as only he could find reason in his brother's digressive onerous prolix. After his 'vacation,' as it was described in the daily news, Judas dove into the mystery with newfound vigor, and few weeks later Leon joined the team. Together, Judas and Leon brought life to the technology, taking it to the point of testing. At this point, Immersion Technology ran into yet another dead end, they had figured out the mysteries, but the application was still beyond them, and everything slowed to a halt. With no new findings or discoveries, funding ran dry. No one wanted to pay for some of their best and brightest scientist to work endlessly on a failed project. But Judas Swan was not done, and even though his position of CEO had less power than its name signified, he did everything within his capability to find the answers that he sought. First he tried to send it to Gaming under the name of Hell's Jurisdiction, but it was rejected immediately. Then he sent it to Home, and when the funding ended, he threw it over to World. From World to Global he passed it along, and back and forth it went.

The fervent work of Leon, and his enthusiastic attitude paid off in the furthering of his career. And in no time at all, with the added support of Judas, he found himself with the promotion, to the position of the Head of FourTech Gaming. With his new position, he brought back Immersion Technology, and saw to its funding personally. And the duo was together again, the up and coming Leon, and the old and aging Judas. After much work and focus, the application of the technology was within grasp, and with the final success of an immersing experiment, and the survival of the guinea pig, Hell's Jurisdiction became a reality.

.

Anne wrapped up her lecture swiftly and succinctly, and her 'students' quietly made their way out of the room. Morris approached her as she began cleaning her desk and putting her things in order.

"You said something about a guy named Leon, who is that?"

"You've never heard of Leon?"

"I don't believe so."

"What about Dr. Zymn-Mokko?"

"That name is completely new to me, who are they?"

"Ok, Leon plays the Dr. in game. Doctor Zymn-Mokko is the CEO of Futureck, and a tad bit power hungry, he is the one who worked with Golgotha, but his role in the game's storyline has not yet been revealed. Leon however, is even more of a mystery, emerging out of nowhere; this brilliant young man has become the head of FourTech Gaming. Some assume he is just that smart, but theories exist that hint at the possibility that he is Judas' son. The weirdest part is his name, Leon... that's it. It's a nickname, the name he demands to be called by, few people even knows his real name, which does add to the suspicion of his being Judas' son. Nobody wants to be know as a Daddy's boy, especially at the office..."

"Tell me about it."

"Have you talked to Slate yet? I guess that's a conversation that you wouldn't mind putting off for a while."

Morris sighed, "I know I'll have to talk to him eventually, its Bethany I'm worried about."

"Yea, she did say she would take Slate's side in this, but she's not as loyal as she thinks she is. Call him out, and she'll probably switch sides."

He was going to ask how she knew what she had said, "it's the 'probably' that worries me," but decided against it, realizing that Anne knows pretty much everything that happens in the 'big H,' "I don't want to rest a relationship on probability."

"That's a good enough reason to stall as much as possible," she paused for a second, "could I make a request?"

"Um, sure."

"I have a meeting to get to, and since I spend all of my time here, I never bothered to get a car. Could you possibly give me a ride?"

Feeling generous, and looking for an excuse to avoid Slate, along with the added plus of Anne 'never asking for anything else, and owing him one,' he conceded, and they went to his car. She led him turn by turn to a run down looking building in a run down looking city, quite a ways from the 'big H'.

"Shouldn't be more than ten minuets." She said briskly as they pulled up, not even waiting for the car to come to a complete stop before stepping out. Without even a thank you, she was gone inside the trash bin building, with its cracked windows and its rusting, abraded paint job. Morris sat and waited, with the car running, for the ten minuets, and then ten more. Ten minuets past ten minuets late, she walked out of the building, much less chipper than when she went in. With a whispered 'sorry' she put on her seat belt and practically became one with the chair.

"What kind of ten minuet meeting goes twenty minuets over?"

"I'm sorry..." Not much of an answer, and Morris was looking for a full answer for the wasted twenty minuets.

"...Well?"

"If you need to know, I was meeting one of my informants."

"Why didn't you tell me that? I've had informants, and I know that they can take time to talk."

"I had to bribe him to even see me, and the only thing he wants more than money is the assurance that no one knows anything about him."

"So you asked for a ride to go to a secretive informant?"

"I was running late, and taxi's take too long, not to mention that they cost an arm and a leg..."

The ride back was quiet, Anne didn't want to talk anymore about her secretive contact, and Morris knew enough about the difficulty of handling such a contact, and didn't pry into the details.

.

As he entered back into the 'H,' he realized that he had gone to Anne's lecture just to stall from talking to Beth. And he had taken Anne on her ride to get away from Slate. He had to talk to Bethany, it was the right thing to do, even though he didn't like fights with people that he cared about. As he was standing in the lobby trying to figure out what he was going to say, she approached him timidly.

"Hey Morris," a good start, "I would, um... look, um, we should... wanna get something to eat?" He agreed, not wanting to put her through too much hardship about having a difficult conversation in a lobby. They went together to the eatery, without much of a word. Grabbed their plates, and sat at a nice corner table, neither talking, or touching their food. Being the one who had started it, and done the act in question, Morris thought he should begin, noting that if he didn't, Bethany might never.

"I'm sorry about what happened with Slate, I should had acted differently."

"Don't worry about it, it's really nothing, we've all pissed Slate off at least once."

"Than what did you want to talk about?"

"I'm... not exactly sure."

"You know, you saying things like that kinda scares me."

"It's nothing like that, just..."

Morris waited for what felt like a minuet, she wasn't stalling, but she wasn't ready to talk either. It was almost painful watching her skirt around the unknown topic that she wished to bring to his attention. To save her the misery, he threw out a blunt conversation starter.

"How did you meet Trixy?"

A fly ball out of left field, but she appreciated the opportunity to switch topics.

"At a bar."

"Was she an alcoholic?"

"Trixy was not an alcoholic!"

"Really?"

"...she couldn't drink enough to be considered an alcoholic, a shot of scotch would put her out like a light, she'd be singing spirituals before she finished her first beer."

"Then how was it that she met all of you at a bar? Was it the same bar?"

"...Well, no."

"But you're sure she wasn't an alcoholic."

Bethany paused for a second, contemplating how to phrase her thoughts, "I think she was looking for us, the bar is where you go when you have no where else to go. The bar or a church, but Trixy stayed away from churches. I don't really know why she went to bars, or who exactly she was looking for...

.

Raven sat at the bar, her attire on the brink of modest and revealing, a Vanilla Martini sat alone in her presence. No one seated two chairs to her left or her right, just as she desired. She could feel the eyes on her, and she waited, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the young woman watching her. Raven looked in her eyes for lust, but saw only concern, empathy. "Go away," she said under her breath as the lady approached, her hands held peacefully behind her back.

"I'm here to drink alone." She said as the lady had taken the seat beside her.

"So am I, lets drink alone together."

Raven rose from her seat at the bar, and walked over to an empty table, and as she sat, the lady sat with her.

"I really am here to be alone."

"No your not."

"Yes, I am." Not the snappiest comeback but they're not all winners.

"That ring," she spoke of the ring on Ravens finger, a jet stone on white gold, the stone held away from the finger farther than usual. "I've seen those rings before, the stone pops off and underneath is a small needle, am I right."

"Protection comes in many sizes."

"Which is why I think your not here to be alone."

A man with gold rings and chains, and a diamond earring entered and sat next to a nearly nude woman at the bar. Raven rolled her eyes, resting them on the young woman.

"What do you want?"

"I don't know yet."

Raven looked over her, her clothes were flaunty, but not revealing, her hair short, died pink and purple, blue and red, with just a hint of black. There was so much to read, that Raven couldn't read her. She leaned back in her chair, with an erotic smile, "I usually don't go that way," she said taking a sip of her drink, "but-"

"I don't have much money on me."

She was taken back, "I'm not a whore," She said defiantly.

"Of course not, you're a thief."

Leaning back again in her chair, Raven tried again to read her, her clothes were mostly black, and very bright, keeping up with two of the latest fashions at once. She sat with one hand continually under the table, putting Raven on edge.

"Than what do you want?"

"I am more concerned with what you want."

Raven fingered her ring as the lady leaned forward, reading her as though effortlessly, "your attitude is strained," she began, reading her from head to toe, "as though you haven't been doing this for very long, I can see that in the way your makeup is applied, rushed but with too much concentration, and slight hesitation. You dress in a way to attract, but not immodestly or erotically, as though you still have some decency and self-respect. Which makes me wonder why you're here in the first place, it's not just for money, because this is a bar, not a club, not the same cliental. I'm guessing it's a child, the only logical reason to be here, doing this, when you don't want to. The way you dress, covering your stomach, which is the first thing a shy person would show. I'm guessing you delivered via caesarean section, being too poor to afford a proper birthing hospital. The only thing I can't figure out is the ring, a syringe is a lot more effective, much higher dose... am I right?"

She was dead wrong in every part, but Raven opted to use it to her advantage.

"Now that you know me, what do you want?"

"To help you."

Not this again, she was interesting, but it always gets boring when someone wants to help you without even knowing who you really are.

"I neither need, nor want your help." She said, holding back the desire to unfurl a long and winded rant on the big headed, holier than thou speech, that people in better walks of life love to hand out like charity. Raven slipped one hand under the table, while with the other, playing with her ring. She popped the jet out of the ring with her thumb, revealing the needle. "Just a touch, and you will be out for hours."

"Oh please," she commented, "we both know that you're holding your real weapon under the table."

"Than why are you still here?"

"What is it? I'm going to guess it's a tazer, but whatever it is," she leaned forward moving the hand she had kept under the table, "it doesn't compare to my old fashioned Ruger LRC Revolver."

They sat in stalemate before Raven leaned back, "fine."

"I'm curious though," the lady pried, "what was it?"

Raven removed her hand from under the table, revealing a small thin blade, "a knife, and you?"

She removed her hand as well, "Nail polish and a fake tattoo." As a flower sat on the back of her hand, the stem wrapping around her wrist. "My name is Trixy Rage, and I don't want to stay here any more than you do." ...

.

"Jason would probably know why she went, and what she was looking for, he knew her the best."

"That's how you met her?"

"Yea, first time I saw Trixy, I pulled a knife on her."

"...Why did you have a knife?"

"Long story."

Morris leaned in, all ears. "I've got time."

"Maybe another, I don't want to talk about it."

Morris didn't often sulk... "So what was she like?"

Bethany took a moment to answer, "I knew her for quite a while, we were good friend, but I have no idea how to explain her."

"Than maybe you could skip to the end?"

"Well you know what they say, only the good die young."

"Is that a very polite way of saying 'flopped through an Error like a bitch with no sense'?"

"...Who said that?"

"Kitten's own words."

"Kitten always put on the 'tomboy' act, pretend not to get hurt but cry in her pillow. With the thin walls in our rooms, why she thought no one could hear is beyond me. Kitten and I were friends in name only, she never let herself get close to anyone, except Trixy."

"Than why do you think she had something to do with her death?"

"You don't know her like we do."

"It sounds like you don't know her at all."

"To be honest," she paused, asking herself if she should go further, either giving herself permission or ignoring herself completely, she did. "I hope she did it, or had something to do with it. Because if she didn't than it was Jason... Slate," she reiterated as nobody called him Jason.

"Would he have done it?"

"There is no telling what someone will do, when pushed far enough. Trix was... blind, in ways, to what she had."

They had ignored their food for so long that it had grown cold, along with their appetite; Morris and Bethany left the eatery, and slowly but surely carried their conversation outside. Being a beautiful day, they found themselves walking farther than usual, down a small concrete path to a small garden. Morris had never been there, Bethany had many times.

"Did you have plans for today?" She asked, as they walked, as it was quite a ways to the garden.

"I was thinking of dropping by Anne's lecture again, she is fun to listen to."

"You spend much time with her?"

"Not too much, why?"

"You have to watch her, she knows everything about everyone, and is not afraid of using blackmail."
"Really, Anne? She blackmails people?"

"Our job is pretty much just to play an immersion game, why do you think we have an intelligence officer?"

"Well I just assumed-."

"She found out about an affair, and asked politely for a promotion."

"She has never been caught?"

"Anne has a way of blackmailing people that they don't know their being blackmailed, she is manipulative like that. Has she asked you for anything recently?"

"I just gave her a ride..."

"See, and I bet she didn't pay for gas."

"Well..."

"Keep an eye on her."

"So she blackmails everybody?"

"I pay her a monthly fee to keep some of my secrets buried, everyone does, but she offers a special rate for her friends. Like if anyone tries to dig too much into my past, she will make sure that they don't find anything I don't want them to find. It really helps for the yearly reviews. Pretty much everybody here is paying her to keep something away from someone, everybody except Pain."

"Why him?"

"He is a special case. Pain has been arrested like a hundred times, and sent to jail more than he likes to remember. He has a rap sheet a mile long, but its all for stuff he is not ashamed of. From blocking ground of a construction site for a not quite eco-friendly power plant, rallying against several corrupt officials, too chaining himself to the door of an abortion clinic, blocking entrance. He's pretty much done it all."

"Wow, he's really gotten around."

"Trixy did recruit him right in front of the 'Big H,' which was supposed to be a GGS research center for non-lethal chemical warfare. He and his friends hadn't gotten the memo yet."

"How did she convince him to join?"

"She gave him one heck of a speech."

"Did she do that for all of you?"

"Most of us, not Ezra, or Slate, I'm not sure of Kitten."

"And all at a bar?"

"Different bars, but yes."

"Why at bars?"

"I don't know, she had a lot of problems, but instead of talking about them, she drank. Every Achilles has a heel."

And as they walked, they grew closer and closer to the garden. Flowers and bushes, four old benches, and a smooth stone leaning against a tree in the center with the name 'Trixy' carved in.

"Why here?" Morris asked.

"Slate was going to propose... here."

"If he was going to propose, what the hell happened-."

"Don't talk about that here Morris, don't you have any respect for the deceased?"

Morris held his tongue, he did not mean to offend, it was simple curiosity.

"I'm sorry Beth."

The two of them sat on one of the benches under the tree. She sighed exasperatedly, leaning forward and cupping her face in her hands, trying to begin the conversation that she had brought him all this way for.

"Why do I feel I am loosing control of this? Why do I feel I have nowhere to go with this? It's like I am on the brink of a major discovery, at the pinnacle of a change in my life no the beginning of my life. And yet, for some reason, before I have even started my journey, I am lost. How can I explain being lost before I have even begun?"

"Perhaps the knowing of where or who you were, was just a mirage, and as you get farther and farther from what you thought you knew, you realize that you didn't know it after all..."

"... You lost me after the second 'know'..."

"Well it was just a theory..."

A momentary pause that last an eternity.

Bethany slowly reopened the conversation, "Do you think, that anything exists beyond nostalgia?"

"I don't quite know how to answer that."

"I try not to think about my life, to many mistakes."

"Think of them as learning experiences."

"I distinctly remember thinking, 'hey, this is a good idea!' But now I know better, like right now, I'm thinking, 'there's no way this relationship is going to bite me'..."

"So... that's what you're asking..."

"Am I going to hate this? Am I going to hate you?"

"Yes, at least a little, I can be pretty annoying sometimes but I promise I'll try to work on that."

"I'm serious Morris-."

"So am I, hell I don't know. What can I say? There are so many things that I regret, the only thing that's missing is a pattern. All I can say is do the best you can, I'll do the same, and if we're still together in the future than we'll know that we finally did something right."

"...Is that enough for you?"

"Yes... not really, but it's all I have. Matters of the heart are not swords that you can master, nor guns that you can improve your skill. They simply are."

"I am tired of feeling like a butterfly in the rain."

The conversation was supposed to go much differently, Bethany had all but written the script, every question to ask and even answers to receive. None of the questions asked, none of the answers given, maybe she should have written it down. Days followed, they were awkwardly sad for Morris, and in part for Bethany. She had brought up some... difficult aspects of relationships, and he didn't know how to respond. A woman's heart is like a harp, or grand piano, made from unyielding wood, and fine, strong brass, yet delicate as a flower, softer than a doe's eyes. Of coarse you play them, how else to get such beautiful music, but if you hurt one your soul is damned for eternity. Like scratching the Mona Lisa... All you can really say is that you will try your best; anything else is a lie, just wrong. Unless you quote a very wise man, 'I am invincible, until I'm not...' They did not share lunch for a few days, not that they were avoiding each other, they were just avoiding momentum, in such an unknown direction as life usually directs us... or something like that...

Anyway and either way, they found ways to keep themselves busy and occupied. Their practice time in game doubled at minimum, and their perspective kill scores increased at record speeds. They spent all of their free time in game, as there was little to do elsewhere in their corner of the world.

.

Slate sat in front of a computer in the library. He was never the researcher type, man of action, was more his thing. No matter what he typed into the search engine, he couldn't find what he was looking for. Across the room he saw Anne, reading some random literature. He contemplated approaching her, but feared an insult, the kind that takes a few hours and a bottle of gin to recover from. After minuets of internal debate he approached her. "Hello, Anne..."

"..."

"Just been trying to do some research."

Without even moving her gaze from what she was reading, she replied. "I didn't know you could read." Not her best insult, but she wasn't really trying.

"Can you tell me, who is Lee Heroshi?"

Even though Anne disliked talking with Slate, she could not pass up a reason to talk about exhilarating gossip, 'history' she called it.

"I'm not sure, I know she was Morris' partner for over two years, when he was a detective."

"What did she have to do between Morris and Peter?"

"One of their first calls, was in response to one of Peter's crimes, Peter and Morris hadn't met, but it is assumed that Peter got access to Morris' record of that scene, because Peter would only speak to Morris after he gave himself up a few weeks after."

"He turned himself in just to be face to face with Morris?"

"Not only that, but after their little talk, it took Peter approximately two years to escape the Mars Penal Colony that he was sent to."

"What happened after he escaped?"

"Morris and Lee were ordered to chase him down, and they chased him far and wide for six months. Eventually Peter made a mistake while committing a crime, he was killing doctors in a hospital, he would tie them to beds and open their veins with a scalpel, he said it was because they showed partiality towards those they helped, sometimes due to money or simple class. The mistake was that a call got out of the hospital and alerted the authorities. Morris and Lee were the first to the scene; Morris' report is kind of vague on how it happened, but Peter captured Lee in that hospital."

"It wasn't a mistake?"

"It is an assumption that Peter made the call himself, Morris had been giving one hundred percent to the chase, but Peter wanted more."

"Why?"

"I don't know, but he got what he wanted, Morris devoted his life to getting her back. For three months he chased Peter, all over Earth and Mars alike, until he finally caught up with him on Venus. And this is where the story gets sad, Morris never gave a report on this mission. In fact it was here that he resigns, on the scene evidence concluded that Morris arrived to see Peter execute Lee, by throwing her down the shaft of a Venus Mining Facility."

"So what? He just quit?"

"All three books held the opinion that the failure to save his partner was just too much for him. But that's because they assume that there was nothing between them. I don't know if they were an item, but I believe that at least, she was more to him than just a partner, and I don't believe he just quit."

"He hunted him down?"

"Her death changed him."

"How bad was it?"

"All three books say, that in the later days of Peter Heely's massacring career, that he went completely mad, and began slaughtering, and utterly destroying, his own men. It was so bad, that no one even suspected Morris of the acts."

"You think it was Morris?"

"Peter's men weren't just killed, they were tortured, and I think interrogated. Peter was known for just disappearing, that is why nobody could find him, they had to wait for him to strike and hope they could catch him before he escaped the scene. But that is just my opinion; I really don't know what happened."

"So did he get Peter eventually, what was Peter's end?"

"Nobody knows, his trail goes cold as ice in a burning hostel."

"And Morris?"

"Whatever happened, you really should try to bury the hatchet with Morris, because it seems to me that in this little game, you're playing the role of Peter."

Slate didn't let Anne's warning trouble him; he thanked her for the information, and quickly saw himself to the door. It wasn't his intention to spend so long in the library, but he had research to do, and was far too busy to fit it in any other time. He had gone past his scheduled time for investigation, as he briskly made his way to the Immersion Bay to meet up with his team. It had been quite some time since the last attempt to get their paws on the infamous DC, and with some coaxing from many different members, Dux Timmy had thought up a new scheme. The plan was from a new vantage point, to let Black Blood have the DC, and make sure that the Assistance stayed away. TArrow and Sorrow had the job of keeping the Assistance occupied, while FArrow tracked the Black Blood team. Slate and his team made their way to the chairs, and logged in.

Due to his tardiness, Sorrow caught up with TArrow late. It wasn't much of a problem, as the beginning of their role in the mission was to sit around and wait for the Assistance to move in. Sorrow took their place, and listened to FArrow's blather over the radio. Very boring information, 'the black Blood team had stolen the DC,' 'they took a left down a corridor,' 'they stopped for a second to argue directions,' 'they took a right into a building.' Incredibly boring stuff, as Sorrow and TArrow spent their time playing Russian roulette with Slate's revolver. They put down the gun as gunfire came in over the radio; the Assistance had finally shown up. "Lets go," Nick said, moving his team out, the plan was a very simple one, open fire on the Assistance, driving them into a nearby building, then rush in and take out as many as they could. A simple plan that performed beautifully, the opponent fell back into a large corporate building just as they had surmised, as the two teams instigated part two of their two-part strategy. Nick led his team straight into the building, driving the Assistance up to a higher floor, while Sorrow used the stairways to go above the enemy and spring the trap. The nine members of TArrow performed a glorious rush, but there were over thirty members of the Assistance, and a force that large is quite difficult to push, two of Nick's men fell during the struggle.

"We're getting shot to pieces!" Nick called for help over the radio, "where are you guys?" His voice sounded just pitiful. Slate answered with their position, heading out of the stairwell and straight toward the enemy. As they grew closer, more of TArrow fell, forcing Nick to order an all out rush into their foe. The Assistance forces were not expecting this move, ordering a full retreat; they turned to run, being gunned down from the back. In the midst of their retreat, the forces ran directly into Sorrow, startling both sides. Both sides opened fire, but only Sorrow took losses, King fell first, followed by Bruce. Gunshots sounded as everyone took some manner of cover, and as the attention of their opponent had changed to Sorrow, TArrow took the opportunity to flank. However they had taken many casualties and most of the others were wounded, they didn't last long. The Assistance party had been damaged brutally, less than two thirds of their troops remained, but they were still too much for the remnants of Sorrow as Ezra fell and their outlook grew bleak.

They held up at the far end of a hallway, taking cover in the doorways on the side. TArrow's rush had done marvelously, but nearly twenty of the enemy had survived. Most of the Assistance members held the appearance of youth, probably less then three of them were in their twenties. All except the leader, with the build and voice of around thirty. Sorrow, beaten and abused, held to their cover, but the Assistance continually gained ground. Morris looked around at his surviving teammates, Slate, Bethany, Pain, and Wraith, all ducking bullets. He knew that Kitten had not died yet, but before he could ask her location, Wraith piped up to Slate. "I really thing we should 'shoot out the lights'."

"No," he replied, "they don't deserve that."

"They're getting real close, we're not going to be able to hold them off!"

He sighed, looking to Bethany for her opinion. "They do seem pretty young," she answered, "but they probably don't have their pain setting very high. And we don't have much of a choice, if we die here, we won't be able to offer any assistance to FArrow if their part goes bad."

"Fine," Slate said, bringing his hand to his radio, " 'shoot out the lights'."

Sorrow fell back, down the hallway, shooting out every light they could see. Down one corridor and down another they retreated, blowing every bulb in their path. The corridor led to a large conference room, one of those rooms where award ceremonies take place. And sitting on the edge of the middle table, with her sniper rifle set in the center of the table, Kitten waited, flipping in her hand, a small flashlight with a rounded lens, that would send light all around. The team rushed passed her with scarcely a word, shooting out all the lights except the ones on the stage, and some at the far sides of the room. Kitten sat quietly, without even acknowledging the entrance of her team. Pressing the button on her belt as the light above her shattered from a bullet, the glass fell to the table, breaking against her rifle, and she was gone.

As Sorrow finished with the lights, they headed out of the room from the opposite side. The doors closed and the glass settled, and for a moment all was still.

The Assistance barreled down the corridors, bursting into the conference room. The leader raised his hand, signaling the team to stop. Slowly they stepped into the dark room, the few lights at the ends of the room, and the well-lit stage gave the room an almost peaceful appearance, serene. "Charlie, Larry, go check it out." The leader said, pointing to the lone rifle in the center of the room. Two of the eighteen ran forward to the table, slowing as they approached. It was just a normal sniper rifle, nothing set up, no traps or explosives, Larry turned to the leader to tell him. "Nothing here boss."

"Than what's wrong with Charlie?"

Larry turned around, Charlie was laying on the ground, as Larry turned him over to his back, he could see something was wrong with his neck, it had been broken. "He's dead!" Larry said, standing up, he hadn't noticed that Charlie was laying in the direction the rifle had been pointing. And as he stood, Larry passed right in front of the scope. The sixteen saw perfectly as the gun fired on its own, and Larry fell, a gaping hole in his gut.

"Something's in here guys," the leader said, trying to set up some strategy, "something invisible broke Charlie's neck, and shot Larry."

Without any clear options, he ordered his team to spread out, in groups of three they moved. The leader alone, strode out in the middle of the room, closing his eyes, he focused on his hearing... not a sound save the glass, breaking under the feet of his troops. Not a sound, until a loud thud of a weight hitting the floor, he opened his eyes and looked, reaching out his hand he yelled at one of groups, "James! Myles! It got Bart!"

James and Myles turned, looking at the body of Bartholomew on the floor, neither of them had noticed, it had happened so quietly. Myles went to him, reaching out his hand to confirm the status of his fellow trooper. And as he reached, he saw his wrist break, followed by his arm as his elbow inversed. Trying to pull backward, something tripped him, and as he fell to the ground, something hit his helmet, cracking the eye shield. Everything happened so fast; Myles was down before James could react. He ran to intercept Myles' invisible assailant, but by some invisible force was twisted around. The fourteen watched, as he stood confused, and his head spun violently. Neck broken, he fell to the ground as two of the groups opened fire.

"Hold fire! Hold fire! Hold fire!" The leader yelled, as no one had confirmed Myles' demise, but by the time the gunfire ceased, they were sure he was dead. A moment of silence for their departed friend, and the fact that they had shot him. The cartridges settled on the ground, and the gun smoke cleared. But as the thirteen overcame the drama, more action ensued. A trooper, poking around the bodies was slammed to the ground, as the invisible force threw another against the wall. The leader raised his voice with orders for his troops, "It's got Brigit! Group two disperse! Group three engage, and group five, try to cover them!" Running towards them, flailing his arms. Brigit fought back against the force pinning her to the wall, but as group three grew closer her head was trust back, as three brutal blows crushed her open throat. As her body fell the aberration fell upon little Bobby, as he was attempting to crawl away. Violently beating him into the ground before grabbing his head, and pulling it backwards till his neck snapped.

"BOBBY!" He screamed as groups three and five raised their rifles, opening fire on the remains, as the sole survivor of group two escaped. But the bullets hit the deceased alone; the ghost was gone. "Where'd it go?" "Anybody seen it?" "I get Bobby's side arm." Whispers grew, as did fear, the remaining troopers stood terrorized by the presence of their unseen foe. The leader stood in the center of the room, where it all began. Closing his eyes, and focusing on his hearing, he searched for the shadow. A crunch of glass alerted him to its position, and he turned to engage, blocking the arms that reached for his neck. Battling his invisible adversary, he attempted every technique, and tried every move. He strained his mind, and body alike to predict and defeat the phantom. Struggling from the disadvantage of sight, he utilized his power and strength, abandoning his guard, he sought only victory in total destruction of his foe. In an elaborate fury he pushed back the presence, regaining his stance and resolve. A flash of light, pure white, bright to the point that he could not see the being, only the humanoid form, and just as quickly it was gone. So quick was the vision, the leader questioned if he had seen it at all. But then it was again, moving swiftly towards him, disappearing right before contact. In his years of hand-to-hand combat experience, he instinctually suspected a feign, followed by a quick assault to the rear or side. Without a thought, he turned to his left, raising his arms he felt the impact of the assault, flowing with the motion he delivered his heel into the stomach of the specter, sending it to the ground. "Light it up!" He yelled, leaping to the floor as all of his troops unleashed lead. They could track its movement by footprints in the glass and falling tables and chairs. In its retreat, it passed the stage, glowing in the light, and becoming the perfect target. "Blow it down!" He shouted over the deafening roar of the guns, laying on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, he knew he had won. The bullets stopped flying, and the guns stopped smoking, the noise fell silent as a calm washed over the room.

"I am so proud of you, you got it." He said, laying on his back in the middle of the floor. The ordeal had taken its toll on him, as for a while there he wasn't sure his team was up to the task. "You actually got it." He spoke again, all their training had really paid off. Glass crushed beside his head, and he froze, no way could it have survived he thought as his team watched many small lights above him, while bullets tore him to paste.

"Gilligan!" They all shouted, running towards the spread remains on the ground. "It got Gilligan!" As they reached the body, it was beyond unrecognizable, only the legs and arms were definable, as the head was missing altogether. "What do we do?" they asked each other, "What would Gilligan have us do?" Turning to one another for comfort as a thud echoed from deep in the corner. They all looked, as fear took its hold of their hearts and minds. Again a sound echoed, likened unto the stomping of a boot. And as the third echo sounded, the survivors gasped, as out of the deepest shadows, rolled the head of Gilligan. They screamed, but no one was listing to their cries, three fell before vigor returned to them. "Tracy! Amanda! Moe!" They cried, racing to find cover and protection, hurried to regroup and retaliate. "Grab your guns! Back to back!" One stood on the table, barking out orders, Gilligan would be proud. Until a weight jumped onto the table with him, knocking him off balance. His arm broke into three pieces, as he was tripped, and drug off the table, a kick to the back of the knee brought him down, driving his neck into the side of the table, with a force so hard that blood emerged. His body fell as they screamed his name, Roberto was dead. The six stood, knees knocking, as a chair was smashed, its broken leg hovering in the air before disappearing. "Charge!" A single trooper yelled, faking bravery she ran, gun blazing at the broken chair. Lifted off the ground before anyone could act, she was slammed to the floor, bleeding profusely as the wooden leg protruded from her chest. "Lie still Betty! I'm on my way." A young man yelled, racing toward her. As he and another grew close, the wooden leg was violently ripped out, blood gushed from her as the two screamed. Before he could reach out to the other who had ran to Betty's aid, she was pulled by the hair, the wooden leg tore into her stomach, ripped out of her just as quickly. And before he could scream her name, the bloody wooden leg broke through his helmet, bringing him down.

"Not Brianna... not Curly..." The surviving three backed slowly away, so many dead, so much blood. A table fell over here, and a chair broke over there. Something fell on the far side of the room, as glass crunched right in front of his face, terror overcame him as the barrel of a silencer pressed into his stomach, pushing him to the wall. An arm to his throat held him upright, as light flashed, and bullet by bullet he was sawn in two. The other two dove to save poor Gregor, as his lower half was less than half connected. They grabbed the spirit, pulling it too and fro, feeling it squirm in their grasps they held tighter. It fought on, and wriggled out of their hands, and before they could react, the helmet was ripped from her face, her mouth yanked open, and a punch delivered so vehemently by the aberration, that its fist broke out of the back of her head.

Gregor mouthed his last word as he bled out, "Elizabeth..."

The last, and lonely survivor, he backed away from his dead and bleeding allies. The presence lit up again, like it did in Gilligan's fight, and the overwhelmingly bright humanoid form walked slowly toward him. "No no no." he breathed as he fumbled with his gun, holding it unforgivably unprofessionally, he fired a few shots in its direction. He fired, but it dodged, and weaved, effortlessly ducking the bullets. Dropping his weapon he fell to the ground in fear, grabbing desperately at the side arm he had on his belt as step by step the monstrosity approached. He drew the gun with much difficulty as his hand shook so, and with both hands for stability, he ended his suffering.

The rest of Sorrow waited in the halls as the last shot sounded, and Kitten emerged from the room, blood splattered over her armor. No one really knew what to say at a time like that; so hushed congratulations murmured around, she walked past them, disappearing into a nearby shadow. Slate called FArrow over the radio, to apprize them of their situation, telling them that the Assistance forces had been naturalized.

"Well, that's good to hear..." They replied.

"Where are you with your part, where is the Black Blood team?"

"Um, their all dead."

"You weren't supposed to kill them!"

"We didn't! We were following them, like we were supposed to, at a decent pace behind. But they turned a corner, and when we got around the corner, they were all dead!"

"And the DC?"

"Gone, with no trace of the attacker."

Slate flumped against the wall, "not again," he moaned as the team vented their frustration.

"Who could have killed the whole team that fast?"

"Those star players could, probably."

They sat around moping, as there was nothing else to do. The radio sprang back to life as Farrow gave an update. "We did find something though, along the walls, and on some of the bodies, scorch marks. It looks like somebody got into Slate's bag of tricks."

"Great, back to the drawing board." Slate said, as he and the rest of the team headed back to log out.

.

Morris and Bethany took the scenic route to the SDB, kicking rocks and pebbles on their way. Their conversation explored many topic, resting rarely on any for longer than a few minuets. As usual Bethany poked around the topics that Morris didn't really want to discuss, but with ample persuasion, and a touch of sweet-talking, she coaxed him into telling her of the first time he spoke, to Peter.

"I interrogated him."

"And? How did it go?"

"Well, about as good as an interrogation can go."

"Common! Tell me the play by play!"

"Beth, it was a long time ago, Peter was just another psycho back then and I don't remember what was said."

"Than what happened next?"

"I moved on, my partner and I, did our jobs, fought injustice and crime, for two years, until he escaped from the Mars penal colony he was sentenced to. I was ordered to pursue him."

"Did you?"

"Till the end of the road."

"And did you catch him?"

"You could say that..."

"...Was that too much reminiscing for you?"

"I'm sorry..."

Just another psycho, not entirely the truth, while Peter Heeley was a psycho, he was not 'just another one,' he was legendary...

.

...Morris walked into the interrogation room, pulled back his chair, and threw the file on the table between him and the young man.

"Peter Heeley..." There was no response.

"F, A, D..." Nothing, Morris removed one of the pictures of his victims, and slid it across the table to him; he looked at the picture... and smiled.

"That one was fun."

"I guess as good first words as any I could expect."

"..."

"Do you have anything to say? Like an explanation."

"Of what?"

"Your actions."

"I think it is time for a rude awakening."

"And for that reason you commit murder."

"They were dead before I touched them, in a manner of speaking."

"Trying to prove that it wasn't your fault?"

Peter started strong, but as he talked he went somewhere else, forgetting his voice as it just trailed away, "no, it was defiantly me... they had to die, nothing else would do, justice must be wrung for... her."

"So you're doing all this for a woman?"

"Is not everything done, in some part, for a woman?"

"Do you really think you will win her heart with actions such as these?"

"Oh, I'm not doing this for her love..."

"... Then for her memory...?"

"As they say, it's a beautiful world."

"Than why destroy it?"

"You know what else they say, beauty is skin deep."

"What lies under the skin, Peter?"

"Now that would be telling."

"...That is the reason you are here." He was silent, in thought. "Peter?"

Silence continued for the space of many minuets, Morris thought to himself, either Peter had a lot to think about, or he was just really slow in the thinking department.

"In a world of evil... a hero rises. What do you call the man who rises in a world drunk with corruption and in love with their sins of omissions?"

"Not a FAD."

"Ah, but I am not the man to rise."

"Than who is?"

"I wanted to be, but it is so hard, all but impossible to find the balance."

"What balance?"

"I wonder, and hope, you are able?"

"Will you cut to the chase Peter, what, or who are you talking about?"

"...Why you, of coarse, why do you think I am here?"

"...Me?"

"Yes..."

"I am nothing like you."

"You are me."

"I am not."

"Maybe not now, but soon."

"Never."

"This is so much harder than it looks."

"You are nothing short of a monster."

"No... I'm just free," he paused for a second, before flashing a sick grin. "I am free from the wrong chains."...

.

Morris had left; there was nothing to the ramblings of this mad killer, this deranged lunatic, but what if? Hell no. An unhinged psycho had tried to play mind games, this wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last... if only that were true... The sad fact that Morris had realized so long ago, was that Peter Heeley was not playing mind games, but how could he tell that story to Bethany? They walked in silence for a little while longer, as they had wasted enough time on memories and other matters. Both wanted to end their previous conversation of their relationship, but neither knew what to say, or how to.

"I don't know..." Morris started, "I'm tired of trying to do something that I don't know how to do or even if I should... I'm tired of fighting, watching my old friends die in my dreams. I mean, those are the good dreams, you should see one of my nightmares."

Bethany didn't know where to go with that, but that just happened to be where they were. "I don't know what I'm doing Morris, but what I do know is that I don't want to do it alone. I have no idea what I have to give to this, but I'm willing to try if you are."

"I can't imagine why you are willing, you know my past is messed up, but you don't really seem to mind."

"Well, you're not the only one with scars, I just know how to hide them."

"Ok... now I'm kinda worried..."

Morris and Bethany talked on, not sharing secrets of their past lives, just building trust. A saturated sappy talk of trusting each other with their hearts and all, which nobodies interested in reading about. Long story short, they agreed to show patience, and build their relationship slowly, not just as friends, but just a little more. Both had known hurt, and neither wanted to repeat their past mistakes, which is usually the way new mistakes are made. They were the last to log out of the game; Bethany had a previous engagement with an old friend, and thus left Morris alone, to find his way in the setting sun.

.

Morris found his way directly to the eatery, not that he was hungry, but the chef on hand made one the best pumpkin pies he had tasted, and who can resist pumpkin pie? As he entered the eatery, he observed Anne following Pain around like a puppy, constantly repeating the word 'please' is the most charming voice she could muster.

"No." He would reply.

"Please, please, please?"

"No Anne."

"Please, please, pretty please?"

"Anne, I said no."

"Just one more time!"

"You said that the last twenty times, no."

"Common Adam... pleeease...?"

He walked swiftly to the only place she couldn't follow, closing the restroom door in her face. Out of morbid curiosity, Morris had followed, hoping to find this favor that she had been begging for. Anne stood with the door in her face, and quietly sulked, until out of the corner of her eye she saw Morris.

"MORRIS!"

"...oh crap..."

"Morris my favorite brother in the whole wide world!"

"Um... Anne! Great to see you too..."

"Listen, could I ask you for a favor, it would mean the world to me!"

"What is it Anne?"

"A ride."

"Anne..." her dough eyes, and hands clasped together, how could he say no with her muttering 'please, please, please' under her breath awaiting the answer.

"...Why wont Adam take you?"

"He's a meanie." A blunt answer, but Morris had already fallen to the doe eyes of his estranged sister. And in no time they were in the car. For some reason, Morris thought she needed a ride to someplace close, like the grocery store, or maybe hardware. His car was running close to empty when they pulled up to the old rubble heap of a building. With a quick 'thanks' she jumped out and ran into the ram shack. Remembering how things had gone the last time she had asked for a ride, Morris had vowed not to be the victim of such an atrocious waste of time. And with the wonders of portable gaming he waited, by the time she exited the building, an hour had passed while it felt like the ten minuets it was supposed to be. Morris was going to rebuke her for taking so long, but as she approached the car, something about her attitude convinced him to let it go. He asked her if there was a problem, if she was ok, and she answered in her quite voice, "Can we just go home?" Something had happened, her contact probably had some really bad news, he was dying to dig, but he held his peace. Halfway back she changed her mind, she didn't want to go back anymore, 'anywhere but the H' were her words. Not having any idea of where else to go, and Anne not having any suggestions, Morris drove back to the 'big H,' albeit slowly. Anne, who led him to the old building on memory alone, didn't seem to recognize where he was going. Slowly and quietly she encouraged conversation.

"Hell's Jurisdiction is about a Demon's attempt to overthrow Satan, as the ruler of Hell. I did some digging as to why there is no mention of God, or angels, in the main storyline. Because as far as anyone knows, the only reference to anything heavenly is when a gamer uses the name in vain. What I found, is that according to the game storyline, God wont interfere with the human world unless Satan acts, and since only Golgotha is acting, God will remain quiet."

"It would be less of a game, and more a religious statement otherwise."

"Maybe, but nowhere in the story or in any writing, does it say anything about man's action that bring about such destruction. Or that..." She paused, trying to put her thoughts into words, "there is no message, it seems like every movie that comes out, or game that's made these days has to say something. But there is no message, to a game about hell."

"And that bothers you why...?"

"There is hell, and the monsters are called Sinners, but nowhere in the story is there an explanation, they don't even approach the question of who goes to hell or why. I don't know, something seems wrong about it all, something seems off."

"It's a game, hell has always been a fascinating topic when it comes to entertainment, in fact I'm surprised that it isn't used even more. Not too seem sacrilegious, but God would ruin it, how would it end? The gamer has to say a prayer and then some bright, shiny characters come in and fight the end battle? It's just a game Anne, don't worry about it."

"Do you believe in God, or anything?"

"That's a random question, do you?"

"Not really, religion is based on faith, but religious people usually don't actually accept that fact."

"You don't believe due to hypocrites?"

"I don't believe in faith, if you don't know, than you don't know, and that should be the end of it."

"So you're an evolutionist."

"Heck no."

"... um... Easter bunny?"

"At first, the scientist community approached the final frontier as an infinite world of mystery. Now, they act as though there are no more secrets, as understanding the entire creation process of a Georgian long case clock by looking at a splinter of the wood."

"So... creationist?"

"There is a difference between believing and knowing, that is the point of faith. But the religious community preaches as though they know the answer, while their holy books themselves state that this knowledge comes directly from a higher power. It comes down to faith, if this higher power -that is not seen- is wrong, or lying, than they have no way to find the truth, and thus no hope."

"Misanthropist... final answer."

She gave him a disapproving look, "Maybe, but I don't avoid society."

"Yea, but you defiantly dislike people!"

"I just think people should shut up, and be the children that their childish minds find revolting. Wide eyed and full of wonder, God or not, it's there and its beautiful, and we will know for sure when we know for sure, not a moment sooner."

"Than why did you ask?"

"...Trix didn't know either..."

Morris tried to see the pattern, deciding to just make a bold assessment and hope it got him somewhere. "You know what happened to her, don't you?"

"...Give it up, Morris, I don't want to see it happen again."

Than why'd you bring it up? Morris wanted so desperately to ask, but something about Anne, and her demeanor, persuaded him to drop the discussion. He let her out in front of the 'H,' and apparently she had forgotten that she didn't want to go there. As she got out of his car, he went to park it in the hotel.

He stayed the night in his room, as it had been a little late, and they didn't have any missions or training scheduled. He entered the 'big H' early in the afternoon the next day, arriving at the same time as King.

"I was looking to sleep late today," King said, "but instead got a call about yet another mission. I hope its not another DC one, because I could have stayed in bed."

"There's a mission? I didn't get a call."

An awkward moment that King didn't want to be part of, he made up some excuse that Slate might have lost his number or something; it was the thought that counted.

.

The team paced around the SDB waiting for King to log in.

"So what's the mission?" A random character asked.

"What do you think?" Slate answered, "Yet another bird-brained attempt to get a Disk-Cassette."

"Again? We don't even know if anything is on them!"

"Yea well sooner or later we're going to find out at this rate, if we keep going on missions like this. We can't fail them all."

Morris and King made their way in at about the same time. And as they arrived Slate went over the latest game plan, pretending not to be disappointed that somebody told Morris.

"So this time, we're going to try something new. Since we still have the broken Disk-Cassette from our last attempt, the plan still includes a switch. But this time, we are going to switch the DC's then make sure that Black Blood kills the team carrying the fake, and reclaim it. Once they reclaim the broken DC, the rest of us will fake an all out assault, not only to make them think that we aren't giving up, but to protect them from the Assistance or anybody else. While we die valiantly, Kitten, with protection from FArrow, with sneak out with the real DC and hide in an SDB until the rest of the operation is done."

The team loafed out slowly, without as much as a clap for this new plan.

By the time they got to the area, plan B had just died of the unnatural cause of FArrow being obliterated. And by the time they had engaged the enemy, plan C gave up the ghost as Black Blood got a glimpse of both the real and broken DC. The action exploded as Sorrow broke into the enemy lines, and quickly subsided as the remains of the Black Blood team took shelter in a broken down two-story building.

Sorrow and First, with the tattering survivors of TArrow secured the pile of ruble, as the Legatus' prepared their attack strategies.

"We haven't seen a single member of the Assistance." Nicolas pointed out.

"They're probably watching us now, waiting to attack whoever's left standing."

"We should just run in there and take them, we only counted six people."

"Once we take out the Black Blood team, the Assistance will attack, and we're not in an easily defendable location, nor do we have enough guys to take on their overwhelming numbers. We have to keep Black Blood alive to keep the Assistance at bay."

"So what we need to do, is sneak in there real quiet like, and just kinda steal the DC from them without their noticing."

All of the Legatus' agreed on their crafty little scheme but as they turned to tell Kitten of their idea, the six members of Black Blood ran out screaming and hollering, emptying their weapons randomly to the skies. Their guttural rush didn't last long as one of TArrow's members took the DC from the corpses. But before they finished yelling their first 'yippy!' The first sniper round tore through the guy with the DC. And the members of Rage's Quiver were drawn into battle again.

"We got this far! And we are not-." Nicolas tried to motivate the troops before a sniper took him down. His short speech had the opposite effect, as the remainder of TArrow made a blind run towards better cover, falling in the middle of the street. Only ten survivors remained, six from First, and four from Sorrow. Kitten had disappeared a while ago, so she wasn't counted.

"Everyone run in a different direction." Slate said as Morris smacked him.

"Are you an idiot? That will never work."

"It's the only option we have, everyone runs in a different direction, and I throw the DC to the one who gets the farthest. The rest of us will lay down cover fire for his escape."

"We don't even know where they're shooting from!"

"You have a better idea?"

"We should stay here, and wait for them to run out of patience."

"They're snipers Morris, snipers are known for their patience."

As they yelled at each other, Jewel, one of the Legatus of First, took a chance with the rest of her team, streaking towards a nearby building, four of them made it intact.

"Throw us the DC!" She yelled at Slate, who executed a perfect pass that landed in her arms like a baby. First disappeared into the building, taking with them the attention of the Assistance.

"You're not going to get anywhere by hiding under cover." Slate talked down to Morris as they sat behind a rock. Bethany and Ezra rolled their eyes and waited for their Legatus' to make up. The four of them rose, and walked back into the building, surrounded by silence as the chase had gone far away.

"So what now?" Bethany threw the question like a fish between two hungry dogs.

"We follow them." Slate said as Morris intruded.

"No, we take this time to circle around, catch the Assistance unaware."

"Unaware? Where exactly have you been all this time? They're the only ones who actually know what's going on here."

Bethany and Ezra decided to go their own way as the two Legatus' fought; walking down the path that they assumed First had taken. Morris and Slate fought on, about nothing in particular, just the random stupid things that the other had done. Both so involved in their argument, that neither one heard the bullet thrust into the shotgun barrel. Both however, heard the shot. Morris woke up, sitting up in his chair as Slate approached, and smacked him out of it.

"What was any of that?"

"I'm not surprised you don't know, you don't seem to know much." Morris could not help but bait him.

"You don't get how this works, this is MY team, nobody wanted you."

"Slate, you couldn't run a day care." He said as he got up off the floor, and as he stood Slate punched him back down.

"The only reason you're still here is because your daddy wont fire you!"

"Yea? And the only reason you're still here is because everybody likes a clown!"

Morris blocked the incoming left hook, turning swiftly and kicking Slate across the floor.

"My plan would have worked, you just went against it to be difficult!"

"I went against your plan for statistical reasons, none of your plans work!"

"I'm done with this!" Slate shouldered past him, heading for the elevators.

"Yea, run you bitch." Morris mocked as he passed.

"There are professional ways to deal with things like you."

"What, you can't deal with me like you did Trixy?"

Slate's quick draw was almost as good as it was in the game, as Morris raced to match it. Neither of them knew that the other kept a gun until this point, but both stood ready, both fingers on their triggers. The others in the room had kept their distance, as Morris and Slate were the best fighters and no one wanted catch a fist. But as the guns came out, everyone panicked. Kitten's chair returned to its upright position, as she rose from her chair and ran to Bethany's. "Slate, get over here." She said with a demanding tone.

"Shut up Kitten." Was the reply.

"They got Bethany, get over here!"

And just like that the stand off was over, Slate ran to the chair, looking at the screen just as Black Blood removed her helmet and smashed it against the ground.

"What the hell." The room was speechless. "Why didn't you do anything?" Slate turned to Kitten for answers.

"There were too many of them for my rifle, and I couldn't get a shot at her!"

Slate had already reached his chair, jumping in as Kitten rushed to him.

"But Slate what about a plan, or strategy?"

"I'm going."

"You cant do that!"

"Watch me." He said, smashing his fist against the red button and logging on.

Kitten turned to Morris as the members of FArrow and TArrow rushed into the room. "What should we do Morris?"

He hesitated to answer as Dux Timmy entered and took the floor, issuing orders and constructing a plan. Morris didn't mind the decision being taken from him, as he turned to the elevator and walked away.

Stepping out onto the roof of the big H, Morris caught his breath, he and taken it too far with Slate, and it would probably bear retribution. And Black Blood had captured Bethany, he should have expected it, after all the hampering of their plans, they were probably sick of the SWD's constant interference. He had to do something, but he couldn't shake the fear of the fact that you don't always learn from your mistakes, sometimes you repeat them. As he stood, trying to think, Kitten approached behind him.

"Morris, are you ok?"

He turned, surprised that it was her who came to console him.

"You?"

"Who were you expecting?"

"Anybody, probably Pain. After him Ezra, then Bruce, maybe after them I'd expect King or Wraith. Maybe Rage... or Anne? The cooks, security, and... who am I missing...? Oh yea! The janitor."

"Maybe I'm not as bad as you think."

"And then again, maybe you're just a bitch."

Kitten was taken back by his vulgarity as he continued, "just get lost Kit, you couldn't help anyway... This has nothing to do with you so you wouldn't understand."

She stood in awkward silence for a while, trying to find a snappy comeback, but she found nothing, as she reached the elevator she found her tongue.

"Sorry, I just thought you might jump, and I'm dating the guy who cleans the streets."

He smiled as the elevator doors closed, it wasn't the right way to handle that situation, but he wanted to be alone. So alone he stood, alone with his thoughts...

.

Morris stood in shooting range, wasting ammo and calming his nerves, this was his yoga. The years as a squad leader had finally led him here, Murder Detective, on the table he had his badge laid before him, half of his bullets missed because of its distraction.

"Hello sexy."

Lee Heroshi, his partner, either the best, or worst part of his new job.

"Lee, here for some practice?"

He had to shout to overcome the sound of his gun.

"Nope, I'm here to flirt."

"So that's how you work off the nerves."

She took offence (as he intended), approaching quietly behind him, she quickly removed the gunfire dampeners that he was wearing directly as he pulled the trigger. Slamming the gun to the table he covered his ears... and she smiled.

"Got you...!"

The two stood in semi-awkward silence, as the ringing deceased he opened conversation.

"We may have the job, but now we have to start impressing people, are the nerves kicking in yet?"

"I never have problems with nerves... but my unborn children are harassing me."

He laughed, "their called butterflies."

"Tell that to the concert pianist."

"You're going to have a pianist."

"You bet!" she pointed to random part of her lower stomach, "right here, wait, that's the lawyer."

"Well at least I know that I'll never be bored working with you, but how are you in a firefight?"

"...Never been in one, I transferred from a desk."

"To Murder Detective?"

"What can I say, my old man wanted me to kill somebody." ...

.

The wait finally ended, and it was time to re-enter Hell's Jurisdiction. Morris headed for the elevator, making his way back to the immersion bay.

He entered to see the whole team together; the Dux was the first to speak.

"Where have you been?"

"Had to clear my head."

"You have the most experience-."

"No, you don't want any of my experience in this."

Morris walked to his chair, turning to Kitten he asked for the plan.

"Slate has been killing them, pushed them to a fire station, and we have decided on an improvised smash and grab rescue plan."

He logged on without another word, as the Dux and everyone went over the plan for a third time. As they dispersed to their chairs Ezra spoke to Kitten.

"I died to quick to do anything, she's so much better than me at close range, I wasn't surprised that she didn't die with me."

"Don't blame yourself."

"Why didn't you take the shot?"

"It was too far away, I hesitated and she was moved from my line of sight before I pulled the trigger."

"Don't blame yourself either, we'll get her back."

They logged into their prospective chairs, hoping for the best but trying to prepare themselves for the worst.

.

Morris stood still in the equipment room. A real life was at stake, and he couldn't help but remember his last rescue mission. He stood in full apparel, with his sword on one hip, his pistol on the other, and his knife on his leg. In one hand he held a shotgun, and in the other a mid range assault rifle, trying to make a decision but not even thinking about the guns. As though coming to, he went with the assault rifle, and as he stood on the green circle he convinced himself that lighting doesn't strike the same place twice.

Though he had logged in so much earlier, he arrived in the house around the same time as the rest of Sorrow, and Pain gave the order to move out. The team walked; apparently TArrow and First had already arrived, FArrow had opted to tag along as recon, and everyone was waiting to go. The SDB was not far from the station, and FArrow had spotted many Black Blood members patrolling the area. Before they had reached their first position, plan A thru C were dead. Plan D included Morris, Pain, and Kitten, sneaking into the station, finding Bethany, and securing the location while TArrow and the others launch a full-scale assault.

Morris was the first to enter the station, followed by Pain, as Kitten fulfilled her role of disappearing with perfection. By his deductions from the exterior of the building, Morris assumed that they were at the door to the lunge section. He whispered to Pain and hoped that Kitten was there to hear.

"This building isn't that big, Beth should be very close, from here in its going to be violent," he turned to a direction that Kitten could be in, "don't expose your presence unless necessary."

Together he and Pain kicked the door down, busting into the room with full speed, and almost falling into the giant descending cave that made up most of the lounge. Kitten waived from the side, "what took you so long, I was getting bored." He looked around the room, but they were alone, scuff tracks were found entering and exiting the cave, nearing to the ground he inspected.

"Conflict, someone was defiantly dragged down there."

"And you can tell by dust on the floor?"

With a motion he silenced her, "I don't think she's badly hurt, nor in pain," he pointed to what the others saw as random dust bunnies, "you can tell by how she's kicking," he slowly stood, informing Nicholas of the situation over the radio.

"How deep is it?"

Peering in, he couldn't see the end, "very." He waited for a reply but nothing came. First they heard a door opening, then gunfire.

"This was all a trap!" Nick finally answered them, "all they wanted were more hostages!"

"What's the plan?"

"Get out!-" The radio died as Nick was killed, Morris turned to Pain and Kitten.

"Beth is down there, but we will be playing right into their hands."

"We can't abandon her."

"This isn't what you signed up for, and we might not come back, if they really are planning on capturing us... I cannot ask you to come with me."

"I was going to say the same thing."

Morris smiled, checking his weapon he turned to Kitten.

"Are you coming?"

"I wont let you guys get captured." Pressing on her belt she stepped into a shadow and was gone. The conflict outside grew in noise and explosions until the station itself began to shake, and from the front entrance, Slate rushed into the room, with bullets hot on his tail.

"I thought you guys got out?"

"We decided not to."

Pain and Kitten held the entrance as the Legatus spoke.

"It was a setup," Slate said, "they knew we would attempt a rescue."

"What happened out there?"

"I though I was driving them back, I killed so many of them, but they had a whole army in hiding, once it was confirmed that you were inside the building, they sprung the trap."

"How are the other Arrows holding?" Morris tried to get abreast of the situation.

"Not well, TArrow is down, First was forced to retreat, its just us and FArrow."

"Then the only way is forward, we can't abandon Beth."

"Our guys are not trained, I can't risk the lives of my team."

"I'm trained, and I'm going."

"Fine... but just us. I wont risk my team."

They rose, making a run for the entrance as Black Blood entered the building, increasing the pressure as Sorrow tried to hold, giving up position they made their way to the cave entrance. Diving down the decent, Slate yelled to FArrow over the radio, "Blow the building! Seal the entrance!"

Explosions abounded as the four ran farther down the cave, followed by rocks and debris. Slamming through a door an entirely new game began. After the team licked their wounds, they explored their surroundings.

"Though so," Slate pointed down a long corridor, "this is a Trail."

"An Adventure?"

"Yes, and the last kind we need, Trail Adventures are usually mazes. There easy, but in the dark and with either one guardian, or a Glutton pack, these adventures are usually avoided."

"What does this have to do with Black Blood?"

"It has to be a base, at the end of this trail, probably where they plan to bring the DC, definitely were they have Bethany."

Morris looked around the floor, and as he had assumed by the Adventures he had been through, there were no tracks, he sighed, wishing for a faster way through.

"So," Kitten asked, glad that they seemed to have forgotten their previous fight, "forward it is?"

"Lets do this." ...

.

...The hospital was dark, random lights flickering as the backup generator was running on empty. Two men were near the entrance of the building, but Morris and Lee took them down quietly, the place had been prepared, the scene had been set for a performance that neither of the Murder Detectives knew. They proceeded with caution. The cameras had been smashed and all other security means had been destroyed, so they entered with no fear of being seen.

"Keep your eyes open."

"I know Morris, I'm not a rookie."

"I don't like the look of this."

"Really? I was just about to say how much I love walking onto a murder scene."

"Lee?"

"What."

"Shut up."

"..."

He grabbed her arm, a little harder than he had intended, looking into her eyes he told her, "Just be careful, Lee."

There were many bodies, and as they walked, Morris could see how the takeover went down. Peter had some of his men harm themselves, gaining entrance to the hospital via the emergency room, as checking for items on the person is done after the patient is stabilized. Due to the fact that their wounds were less than they seemed, before the doctor was finished treating them they began their assault. Quickly they dispatched the nurses, leaving the doctors to the worse fate that Peter had envisioned. Swiftly and stealthily they moved throughout the Intensive Care Unit, cutting and carving their way through their victims, until an alarm was raised. Upon the sounding of the alarm, Peter and the rest of his men, who were waiting out in the parking lot, joined the commotion. Entering through the front door, they began a dance of terror, gruesome and horrendous, that split the security forces in two. Divided, the security fell, gunned down by Peter, cut down by his men, Peter had taken the hospital.

"I wasn't quite sure this was Peter," Lee commented as they walked down the blood soaked corridors, "but this is defiantly him."

"There is only one thing missing here."

"What?"

"Screaming."

Lee turned to him, in near disbelief, "Why would you expect screaming?"

"This is exactly like all the other scenes, blood and bodies, but we were told that Peter was still in the building, his crime is finished, there's no screaming, I don't think he's here."

She looked around, not only was there no screaming to be heard, but no sounds at all save the wind through the broken windows. "But what about the guys outside?"

"They were expecting a siren, and we came in silent, maybe we caught them unaware."

They stood silently for a second, "Ok then," she said, "let's split up, check the place out."

"Hell no."

"We need to sweep for survivors-."

"Hell no, we're not sure we're alone."

"Backup wont be for about five minuets, a surviving victim from Peter probably doesn't have that long."

"Lee, we're not splitting up. We will check the rear exit, see if we can catch them escaping, or at least pick up a trail."

"It barely takes minuets to bleed out from a deep wound, Morris."

He walked on towards the back exit; sometimes decisions have to be made, like looking for survivors or stopping the man who would definitely kill again. He would talk to her later, explain his choice, later. A footfall on the hard floor sounded behind him, he turned, looking down the sights of his side arm at Peter Heeley, leaning against the wall.

"Hey, I could have been Lee," he said looking up the barrel of Morris' gun.

"Lee weighs a hundred and ten." Was his reply.

"twenty pounds adds that much sound?" Peter said, tapping his heel on the ground.

"Where is she?"

"Are you really going to ruin my epic reveal like that? I was getting to the plot twist, you didn't have to guess ahead."

"I will shoot you Peter."

"Spoil, sport." He turned with a nod to the shadows, and they brought her out. Peter spoke to her, "this is what he meant when he didn't want to split up." With a wave of his hand they took her away.

"Let her go." Was the generic retort.

"Yea, sure, like I'm going to listen to you."

"We can get through this without any more violence."

"And what do you suggest, coffee and crumpets?"

"An arrest and Miranda."

"Ooo, nice comeback."

"Give up Peter."

"Why, so you can interrogate me a third time? Or does that second one not officially exist? I am assuming you turned off the recorder for that discussion."

"She has nothing to do with this."

"You're right, this is between you, and me. She is getting in the way."

And with that Peter walked away, Morris would have fired but Lee would be killed so he held his finger off the trigger, and instead he spoke. "I will hunt you to your grave Peter!"

"That is all I ever wanted... Morris." ...

.

"You were spaced out for quite a while." Kitten was walking beside him.

"Oh, sorry."

"You didn't miss anything, just a boring walk, nothing more."

"How much farther?" He asked placidly.

"It shouldn't be too far."

"You're back," Slate said from behind, as he was covering the rear.

"Sorry, just thinking."

"Thought you might try to shoot me again."

Kitten turned to him, "Can you guys just drop it already?"

"No," Slate replied, "you cant just drop a gun to the head."

"You started it Slate." Morris pointed out.

"And I had every right, you just took it too far!"

"Maybe your just sensitive."

"Morris, shut the hell up, you are full of lies."

"Like you know anything, Slate."

"Guys," Kitten tries again, "just leave it for now."

"Honestly," Slate didn't listen to her, "You didn't even know Trixy, why the hell are you so vehement about this?"

"Because it matters!"

"Do you ever care about something that you don't eventually destroy?"

"Back off, Slate."

"You're just pining over Lee, how you missed your chance while she was alive!"

"Go to hell Slate!"

"How are you going to tell my sister? That you can't give her your whole heart because of some dead girl that you can't break up with?"

"And you're different?"

"Why are we going to save her when she's better off with them, than with you..."

Morris thought of a snappy comeback, a real winner. But that question had cut him to the core. Broken, he turned, and continued on walking, Kitten beside him, rushing him on.

"Running away?"

"I'm going to get Bethany," Morris said, "Then I'm going to rip out your spine."

No reply to his half-assed threat, but Slate probably didn't hear him, too lost in his own thoughts. Kitten and Morris kept walking, deeper through the Trail. Pain intercepted them as they approached the exit, as he had taken care of the Adventure's inhabitants while waiting for them. They stood at the exit, preparing themselves for the worst; they did not wait for Slate to arrive, as with unspoken resolve, they stepped through.

On the other side of the exit, was the other side of the city, up and down both streets they could see that this area had been walled off; Black Blood had built themselves a nice retreat. The three of them took cover as the anticipation of guards took hold. "How do you want to do this?" Kitten turned to Pain.

"Even though there is a real life in the balance, this is still a game, they shouldn't do anything to her in response to our actions."

"Still, I don't think we should be spotted."

They discussed their strategy as Morris leaned against the wall, lost in thoughts that he wished he could forget...

.

...Morris had hunted him far and wide without rest. Sleep evaded him, and every time he approached the dream world, he was violently tortured by nightmares and memories. He hounded every lead, pursued every rumor, and exploited every skill and technique he had at his disposal, as a Murder Detective. Perhaps his constant searching proved successful, or possibly the Fallen Angel of Death had given him a trail to follow. But Morris tracked him down and traced his location to that Venus Mining Facility.

Morris entered the gigantic room, and standing at the edge of the large hole, a mining shaft in the center of the area, was Peter Heeley. And beside him, tied to a little wooden chair, sat Lee... broken and bleeding, tortured unmercifully. Cuts and bruises over her naked body, her breasts removed with a blade and sown shut with copper wire. The muscles on her legs had been grated down.

He was breathless; he knew that she would have been tortured. Had been going over his mind, what to say, how to console her... what to say...

"Oh, God..."

"Morris, glad you could join us."

"...Peter..."

"I was expecting a threat, a vulgar scream, maybe."

"...How could you..."

"Ah yes, your sharp inquisitive mind, ever asking questions, always learning."

"...Lee..."

"Oh of coarse! Where are, my manners? I'm sure you want time with the princess that you have just rescued... I will leave you two love birds alone..."

Morris was trained to keep your eyes trained onto your target... and usually, in such a situation, your training kicks in, and you wake up minutes later thinking, 'I did one awesome job with that situation, I am so proud! ... Usually, when it is someone you knew could die, at any moment on the field just like you knew you could die... at any moment on the field. But not her, it might be all foolishness, but she never dies in the end. It never ends with her, in your arms, with the last words 'where were you?' On the lips that should end, entwined with yours...

He rushed to her side...

She spoke, trying with her last breaths to inform him of every thing she knew that would help him take down this monster...

"His name is Peter Heeley, he hates drugs but is an alcoholic, he hates rape and never forces a women to be with him."

"Stay still, let me get you out of here."

"His favorite is rum, he drinks it most with milk, sometimes blood."

"You can give me your report back at home."

"I don't... I don't want to go home he cut my tendons, my muscles, these ropes are just decoration I cant move."

"You can heal, the hospital will patch you right up, good as new."

"I'll never be good, or new. I didn't want him he injected me with his seed, as the ultimate insult to you... I bear his child."

His reply caught in his throat, to do so much to someone, all to hurt another.

"... Lee ...I'm sorry."

Her chair was on the brink of a mining shaft, and she looked into his eyes.

"Push me ...Morris."

"No... you can get through this."

"...push me."

"Lee no-."

"Push me... please..."

The air was thick, as he tried to find reason in a void of madness and insanity, or hope in the blackest pit of hell ...

"...Than smile for me."

"Smile...?"

"Show me that you remember the good times we've had; if all that is in you is darkness, than how will you find your way to what lies beyond death? If all you know is the pain, than no, I wont let you die here. I will take you away from here no matter how much pain it brings you. I will heal you and show you what you fought for, so that when you die, you will bare no regrets. So you will know that all your sacrifices were not in vain, show me that you remember..."

Lee hung her head for a minuet, twice she tried to begin, finally she succeeded.

"...I remember our first day, I was so happy to be partnered with a cute guy, I remember our first mission, when you kissed me to stop me from shaking, and I remember how my gun went off into you foot. I remember in the infirmary, how vehemently you denied your motives.

I remember helping you with your paperwork, trying to explain the simplest of formalities and formats. And I remember our countless arguments about how many pages consist of a full and complete mission report, and I still think it's more than one and a half... I remember our space vacation, after that series of murders, the first time I lost one of my team. You wouldn't let me be alone, not even on vacation, every time I was quiet, how you would say 'it wasn't you fault.'

I remember watching you with the families of the victims, so calm, and loving, how you put them at ease. I remember falling in love with you, when we entered that hospital on that night, when you grabbed my arm, and told me to be careful. I remember the good..."

"Now how can I let you go, after you go and say something like that?"

She was silent for moments, "Because I don't love you anymore, I'm sorry but how can I... you were too late."

Slowly he stood before her, leaning towards her, he kissed her lips.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you, if you can't love me, than may you forgive me?"

"...You never had to ask."

Morris placed his hand softly on her leg, to come all this way, for it to end like this; he caressed her before looking into her eyes.

"Rest in peace."

And she fell...

.

Morris opened his eyes; Slate was standing in front of him, talking to Kitten. The three of them had formulated a plan, but Morris couldn't bear for history to repeat. He stood, he didn't mean for his flames to erupt, but as he left cover and walked directly towards the building where all of his experience told him to go, flames exploded from him. Grey and smoking, with hints of blue, Morris strode enflamed, firing blindly at the door. Pain rushed to his side, shooting the members of Black Blood that Morris didn't hit in his blind fury. Kitten had disappeared, and Slate brought up the rear, "remember this is a game," he said to the team, "if you see her, take her out, she'll want to wake up." Morris stopped in his tracks, "No," he said, turning to Slate, "She lives."

He reached the entrance before the brunt of the enemy forces had arrived. Slate and the others stopped at the door, to hold them at bay, as Morris went thought the building. He had kissed her, not because she was scared, or to stop her from shaking, but because she was so damn beautiful. Enemies met him in the halls, but Morris didn't notice, his training had kicked in and they died instantaneously. How was he supposed to handle it? They had the most dangerous job on the face of the planets. What was he supposed to do? Propose, and marry in the barracks because being around many people in a strange environment spooked him, buy a nice house and turn it into a lair? A high tech outpost? A heavily armed survival bunker? The kids first present would be a small knife, born into a world of guns and ammo, learn how to kill before he learns where to poop. Their kids would have learned how to shoot before they learned how to eat with chopsticks.

Morris heard her voice, she had heard the fighting, he went to the room where she was being held. A young man with the Black Blood symbol on his black armor, stood between him, and her. Tied down to a little wooden chair, Morris beat the man to paste in the corner of the room. Picking up the mans gun off the floor, Morris cut the ropes tying her hands, tossing the gun on her lap as he walked past. "Get up Lee, let's go." He wasn't loud, and there were gunshots coming from down the hall, she didn't hear him. Bethany got up off the chair; grabbing the gun she followed him. No one stood a chance against them as they made their way; Slate and the others met them halfway to the exit, and they all left together.

As they exited the building, they saw Jewel leading another assault on the compound, only this time they had brought bigger weapons, the goal being the utter destruction of the base. Sorrow made it back to the Trail unscathed, and went through the Adventure with little difficulty, Bethany and Kitten talking like best friends, as they watched the rear. In no time at all they were out, Bethany and Kitten walked together to the SDB, and Pain followed behind. Morris could only wish that he had performed so rapidly when it was Lee's life in question. So deep in his thoughts that he didn't notice that Slate was still with him. "Didn't you make me a promise?"

"..."

"Something about my spine?"

And with just a little baiting, all the anger broke through. With a savage yell Morris rushed him, throwing his entire essence into his attack, which Slate countered with effort. As they fought Morris grew faster and faster, blue sparks flew as he erupted into flames. Slate countered with his own, and they fought on. Employing every and all of their techniques to their advantage they fought on. With ever increasing, constantly intensifying heat, they poured all of their different trainings and skills into their battle as they fought on. With the flick of his wrist, Slate brought forth his knife, bringing it across with a sharp swipe, tearing into the pectoralis major muscle, taking from Morris the use of his arm. Turning him around, Slate inserted the knife into his lower back, swinging him around again, he brought the knife across leaving a tear from stomach to shoulder. Morris fell to the ground as Slate planted the knife beside his head.

"Even in a game, I can't kill my little sister's heart."

Morris lay there gasping as Slate walked away.

"Go to hell Morris, at least inspect the place your relationship will send her."

He bled slowly, the wound not deep enough to kill him with the increased healing factor of the game. But either way he couldn't move, and as he lay there, he lost himself again in his thoughts. After a time, when he could finally move, he made his way to the nearest SDB, and logged out.

.

Morris awoke still deep in thought to what Slate had said, he saw Bethany cleaning her chair as if nothing had happened to her, they were alone. He approached her.

"Bethany I... need to talk to you."

"Yea?" She didn't even look up from her work, "what's up?"

"...um, about my partner."

"What about him?"

"Her, Bethany."

"..." She looked at him, "why did you lie to me?"

"I was trying to lie to myself."

"Ok, so what about her?"

He didn't know quite how to start this, Bethany waited for a second before continuing. "Look, you're the one who wanted to talk about this."

"'Want' is not the right word, but I really care about us... and I think you deserve the truth."

"She was more that your partner."

"No, she was just my partner. I never got around to telling her how I felt. She was real work oriented, you know, career oriented... that's what I told myself anyway. Truth is I just didn't know how she would react, and so I kept putting it off until it was too late."

"You never told me what happened between you two."

"I euthanized her. Was too late to her rescue..."

"...I'm sorry-."

"Bethany, even though our work isn't really dangerous, and we can be pretty sure that we will be walking back from our missions... Beth, in this world we can never know what is going to happen next, and I want you to know that I love you. In case anything happens, I want you to have known."

"I... don't know if I can say that back to you..."

"That's ok, hopefully in time you will be able to, and when you are, I'll be waiting."

As their conversation ended, he left toward the elevator. I'll be waiting, good, not too sappy, not too short. He was so deep in his thoughts of their talk that he almost ran into Slate who was exiting the elevator.

"Get your ass in the chair."

"Not again."

"We're going back in."

"Whatever it is it can wait."

"...I think its waited long enough."

.

The team slowly meandered into the Immersion Bay, logging in one at a time. Morris was the last to log in, as he was the last to log out and hadn't finished stretching his sore bottom yet. He fumbled thought the dressing room, preparing himself for whatever was to come, since Slate hadn't said anything about the mission they were going on. Slate had only said one thing about this mission, no helmets. A long-range rifle, heavy pistol, sword and knife, was a well-rounded approach, able to take on pretty much anything. He left the helmet, and stood on the green pad.

He was second to last to appear, and Kitten came in right behind him, wearing a black sundress, without a single weapon. He looked to Slate, who was wearing an all black suit, with no weapons; and to Pain wearing all black, with his katana on his side. King and Wraith were the only ones besides Morris who had dressed in their usual armor.

"I've given this much thought," Slate spoke quietly, "and have reached a conclusion. Morris' little investigation is tearing this team apart. And if an idiot can tear a team apart, that that team wasn't strong enough in the first place. We're finishing this now."

The team began to recognize where they were headed, and began to whisper among themselves. From the popular, 'he's going to snap, if he hasn't already,' to the lesser, 'do you think he's going to kill Morris?' Bethany approached Morris slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "If Slate makes any sudden movements, run."

"What?"

"We're going to the place where Trixy died, make sure you stay far away from the programming error."

"You really think he would do that?"

"He has been under a lot of stress, and everybody has their limits."

Slate and Pain walked at the head of the group, and unbeknownst to them, could hear the murmurs.

"Why are you doing this Slate?"

"I have to."

"You don't owe them this."

"They're my team, not hers. I owe them a leader, and unity. I owe them closure."

As they approached the building, they heard the random sounds of Sinners in the surrounding areas. A Cannibal made its way into the middle of the street, in front of the team. Slate turned to Pain, "I don't feel like fighting." Pain nodded, "I reject," and the area grew cold making the already creepy walk to the final frontier of their beloved leader even creepier. Morris saw how, even though enemies drew closer and closer, not one member of Sorrow went for their weapons. The Cannibal rushed, bearing down upon them with its razor sharp teeth, no one lifted a finger. As it came closer, its rush slowed to a difficult walk and it fell, shattering as it hit the pavement. The other monsters came, some of all types, freezing and shattering without even laying a finger on any of the team. Pain fell them all, and he hadn't even drawn his sword.

Sorrow came to a stop in front of the tall building as Slate spoke to Pain in a hushed tone. "Clear the building." Pain placed his hand on the building side and knelt down, whispering under his breath. The rendering of his body faded, the airbrush effect failed, and from the ground floor to the roof, the glass shattered to dust and he turned back to Slate, "done." They entered, walking straight to the elevator in the back, without so much as a glance at the stairwells, or a hand on a weapon, they all stepped in and the doors closed. For most of the team this was the first time on the top floor, and it was different than any of them had expected. There were floor to ceiling windows everywhere; from every possible stance you could see the sky. Slate led them to the room from whence a blue glow shown.

"It was a night like this when it happened, rain clouds but no rain, a silent storm. Damn if I don't remember...

.

We thought we knew our mission, investigate a tall building in the down town area of a major city. It was a normal training mission, as we walked Trixy went over our attack strategy with us, she said that our target was on the top floor of what used to be an office building. A Master Thief had taken this building as its base, and Trixy had decided that for the team to hunt it as an exercise.

Away from the rest of the team, Slate approached her.

"There are a lot of tall office buildings in this area."

"Yes there are."

"Why didn't you tell us which one we're going to?"

"I don't have to run everything by you Jason."

"Not me Trix, the team."

"...I trust you with my life, so just trust me."

"I don't think I can do that, not when we're walking in the direction of where the programming error was located."

"I won't lie to you Jason, so please don't ask."

Slate grabbed her by the shoulder, turning her around. Looking in her eyes, he stopped.

"I trust you, just remember that the whole team will follow you wherever you go."

She wrapped him in a hug.

"I love you Jason, and there is so much I want to tell you, but not here, not now."

The team approached the building, a blue light shown from the CEO office on the top floor, and murmurs began swirling throughout Sorrow.

Slate went to Trixy, "it's your call."

"We're going in." The team grew more restless and the murmurs increased as she spoke those three words. Slate turned towards them. "You heard her! We're going in! Unless you want to die by my gun, ready your weapons and prepare to charge!"

Trixy was acting strange; she had lost her strength, her courage, and her spirit. She spoke under her breath, "charge."

Slate turned to the team, "CHARGE!"

He led the assault, with Pain and Bruce on either side of him, Ezra and Kitten took the outsides. Bethany ran behind them, and Trixy slowly walked behind. In unison, Slate, Pain, and Bruce jumped against the glass window, smashing through, Kitten and Ezra behind them. No enemies greeted them in the lobby area as Beth came through the door. As Trixy walked in, the team watched her remove her mask, throwing it to the side. Slowly she looked around at the faces of her team.

"As of this moment, Slate is in command of this mission."

The team looked to Slate, he wanted to order a retreat, but chose to stay true to a friend, and a lover.

"We continue; it is known that there is a Master Thief in here, so keep your guns up and get ready for a hell of a fight, do me proud." It felt different saying 'me' and not 'Trixy,' he looked to her, knowing that she couldn't say it, he said it for her.

"Stand together, or go to hell!"

The main lobby had two circular staircases that rose to all but the top floor; only one elevator went to the CEO's office. From the upper floors, roars were heard, hundreds of Sinners flooded down the stairs towards the team.

Trixy walked beside Slate, "there are too many of them, have the team lure them outside, I'll take the elevator to the top floor."

"I'm going with you."

"The team needs a leader."

As they spoke Pain approached, "you two go, we will hold the horde back, so you will only have to face the guards." Trixy tried to speak, but he continued, "don't worry, once we're finished with them, we'll back you up."

Slate and Trixy stood outside of the elevator, watching as the rest of the team, under Pain's leadership, took their positions. Slate removed his helmet, throwing it to the side, Trixy asked him why, "I wont lie to you Trix, so please don't ask."

As the horde came closer and closer to the ground floor, Slate put his hand to his radio, speaking to the team.

"Be prepared, stand steady, and victory will always be ours! The enemies before us employ melee only, stand strong and survive. Afterwards we will celebrate, drinks on me!"

Trixy bit into her bottom lip, and the Sinners tore into the team. The two turned, and entered the elevator, heading to the top floor.

.

The hallway in front of them lead to the CEO's office, where the Master Thief was sure to be protecting the programming error, a bright blue light was visible from the elevator. From their left, a Murderer approached, and from their right, two Cannibals. Slate looked around at the opposition, "this is it?" Trixy smiled as Slate continued boasting, "I thought there would be more guards than this, this is going to be easy."

She turned to him with a serious air, "you came because you don't trust me, didn't you Jason?"

"Trixy, that's not true."

"Than why?"

Slate was silent for a minuet, as the Cannibals prepared to pounce.

"You go on ahead Trix, I'll handle things here."

As she headed towards the light, Slate folded his hands before his face, closing his eyes as the Cannibals pounced and the Murderer lunged.

His fight lasted, it wasn't quick, he probably could have dispatched them faster but he couldn't concentrate. He could only think of her, what she had been saying, how she had been acting. His fire was different, instead of the weak blue, it was red, it was more powerful and he could direct it like a flamethrower. But it was no time for experimentation, he had told her to go on ahead, as a show of trust. He had told her that he would handle things as a way of letting her know that he had her back. But the truth was, that he didn't know if it was the right call. His enemies fell to his power and he followed after her.

Slate entered the room; first he saw the error, a bright light in the center of the room, it's appearance like standing lighting. As his eyes overcame the light he saw Trixy standing over the body of the Master Thief. She walked towards the error, reaching her hand to touch its light.

"Trixy, why?"

"You know why I'm here, Slate."

"Don't."

"Jason."

"Trixy."

"...Goodbye."

"Don't do this, stay with me, I need you, just as the team does. Trixy we depend on you, I can't lead them without you."

"You are a better Legatus than I could ever be, and will make a better leader."

"I need you Trixy, damn it I want you!... You have nothing to prove-."

"I have everything to prove! This is my chance to prove what I have been saying all this time, if I didn't go I would be a hypocrite, a coward... I'd be a fool."

"Than be a hypocrite, be a coward! Just stay, because I love you."

"If I was a fool, would I be the one you love? If I were a hypocrite I wouldn't be the one you love. If I were a coward I would not be the woman that you love! So if you love me, Jason... let me go."

She turned to the light, she was shaking but she continued. Kitten entered the room and saw them, she saw Trixy. Running to her, she grabbed her arm.

"Don't do this Trixy, you don't have to prove anything, stay with us. We need you!"

"Kitten... I'm so sorry; I know you don't understand and that it's not fair. But I have to go."

"But we love you. Slate, he loves you, tell her Slate!"

"I love you all too. But this... I have to do this."

Kitten grabbed hold of her in a hug, "NO! I wont let you."

Wriggling out of Kittens grasp, she turned back to the light.

"Slate is my successor, he'll keep you together, follow him."

"HE'S NOT YOU!... nobody's you, Trixy don't leave. Don't leave me."

Slate was standing, motionless; but he knew that he had to act. He walked up behind Kitten, grabbing her arm, he twisted it pinning it to her back, his grip was so tight that it broke her wrist. With his other hand he covered her mouth, nearly breaking her jaw.

"Trixy," she turned slowly, biting her bottom lip so hard that it must have been bleeding on the inside; Slate said as his voice cracked, "go." ...

.

As Slate finished speaking, Kitten walked away, disappearing into the shadows, leaving the group. Morris looked to the ground.

"It wasn't a murder."

"Wasn't suicide either," Slate said, "just foolish exploration. Of course the investigator didn't believe that."

"What was his conclusion?"

"That there wasn't enough evidence to make an arrest."

Morris looked around the group, none of them were too surprised, but all of them were emotional. He turned to Ezra.

"Are you going to kill me now?"

Feigning a smile, he answered, "No, we'll just lead you into a bad situation and let you get ripped to shreds a few times."

"Yea, I guess I deserve worse."

.

Morris and Bethany sat alone in the eatery. After the reveal, the team had left the game via different places and times, each one wanted to be alone; that is except for Beth and Morris. They tried to speak, but couldn't find any words to go with the mood.

"So," Morris initiated an attempt at conversation, "you got kidnapped."

"Um, yea."

"And we rescued you."

"Yea..."

"And the first thing you do, is clean your chair..."

"What's wrong with that?"

"You got kidnapped! You're supposed to ask for some hard liquor, or have some terrifying flash backs!"

"They only had me for about two hours."

"Exactly! Two whole hours of... what did they do to you anyway?"

"Nothing, they put me in a room in an old abandoned building. Then they started yelling to each other about some guy who was killing everybody. They relocated me twice before taking me through the Adventure, and once they got me situated, and tied to the chair, you came."

"...Really?"

"Yea, that guy you beat to mush, he had just finished tying my arms."

"So you have no idea what they wanted?"

"From what I heard, the plan was to provoke you to make a rescue attempt, ambush your team, and get more hostages. After they got enough hostages, they were going to demand that the GGS withdraw their forces and shut down the SWD."

Morris had envisioned torture and beatings, but most of those were memories. He was relived to know that nothing bad had happened to her in her captivity.

"Even though nothing happened, I figured you'd at least go to the eatery, get a drink, tell some stories."

"Morris, I've been shot, stabbed, bitten, and eaten. I know it could have gone worse, but that fact alone didn't scare me, nothing happened."

And the first day he saw her, she was petrified by a Cannibal, what a medic.

"After your first mission, when you got eaten, why didn't you quit?"

"And here I thought we were trying to avoid this."

"What?"

"I didn't immediately quit, because I was in the hospital for a while, and because Trixy visited me every few hours. I didn't want to lose such a good friend. And I thought we were avoiding talking about her."

"..." And the awkward silence crept between them.

"..." Bethany began, "I don't blame you, or hate you, or anything like that."

"..."

"You did what you thought was right, to punish the guilty, you couldn't have known... are you listening?"

"I feel like crap..."

She laughed, "this team has been through worse, for the whole year that she has been gone, I thought for sure that it was Kitten... I guess I owe her an apology..."

"I don't even know how to apologize to Slate..."

"He will forgive you, just make sure that there's alcohol present... but is his the only relationship that needs rebuilding? I think you should make things right with your father."

"My father? Hell no!"

"You don't have to forgive him! Just let him ask... doesn't everyone deserves the right to beg at the feet of the one that they wounded?"

"So much, does not go away so fast."

"It will not go away unless you make it, starting with forgiveness, which starts with a listening ear."

"...Fine, I'll go talk with him."

.

Morris made his way to the last place on the planet that he wanted to be, pushing open the door, entering slowly.

"Certain words are hard for parents to say..." he started, "like suicide?"

"What could I say? ... she was still my little girl."

"You blame yourself."

"...Completely."

Morris couldn't bring himself to take a seat, he had more anger for this man than anything else in existence, but... he couldn't even finish the thought. His father slowly sat back, standing up he went over to his loyal file cabinet. Leaning against it for a time.

"I know why you're here... and... hell, I'm not ready to be forgiven."

"Bethany didn't tell me to forgive you, just to talk."

"You're whipped so young."

It was a bad time for jokes, but Rage never had timing in that regard. They both enjoyed the humor. "That was uncalled for...sorry, I have to say, I thank God that I even know what humor is any more..."

Silence abounded for too long, neither spoke, falling back into his chair Rage...

"...It had to be my daughter."

"I wish I could have met her."

"She would have liked you... She and I fought about you, not as much as Anne and I did. They pretty much raised each other, I was too busy drinking my misery away, always trying to forget my mistakes, didn't even notice my new ones... Thinking back, I was too young to be a father."

"You should have thought about that before you laid with my mother."

Morris and Rage fought on, at times growing loud, sometimes not saying anything at all, but the only person who truly cared, had heard enough. She had been leaning against the wall, waiting, hoping for a happy family moment in the future. Anne left as she had done so many times before, in anger. And with that the sun goes down...

.

Later that night Slate went to Kitten's room to see how she was, her door was closed and she had locked herself away. After knocking, he heard a muffled 'come in' from inside, Kitten scrambled to hide the evidence that she had been crying.

"Are you alright?"

She faked a smile, "Yea, I'm fine."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you."

"That's cool, I understand."

"Do you really?"

"...No... She was my best friend, you should have told me."

"... I guess I was being selfish about it, I should have known that you were hurting too."

Silence permeated the air before Kitten spoke again.

"All this time, I thought the two of you were in on it together, maybe you were working with Black Blood, or with FourTeck, or some unknown enemy. I thought that maybe she was right about the error being a doorway to another world. But now, I can't believe she's gone."

"I know."

"It must have been painful telling her to go."

"...I've moved on."

They sat alone for minuets, finally Slate turned to leave, "I just dropped by to make sure you were alright."

"Thank you, Slate."

As he approached the door, "you've never told me Kitten, and I've always been curious, what is your real name?"

"...Bronze Merlot, its French, like the wine, I know, it sounds-."

"Beautiful."

She was surprised, looking into his eyes she said. "...You don't have to leave."

Slate returned to her side, sitting beside her on her bed, softly placing his hand on her face, he kissed her gently. Laying her down, he stayed the night...

.

In the cold nights, Slate and Trixy would sit, on the left side of big H, with their legs swinging over the edge. Trixy would wax eloquent of her thoughts, her hopes, and her wishes. Slate would lean over and say, "You're such a dreamer, Trix." She would bashfully apologize, and he would answer, "It's one of the many things I love about you, you're honest, bold, smart, and such a dreamer. I will always defend you, and I will fight for your dreams till the end." She would snuggle into his arm, and say something like, "You are so corny Jason." And he would wrap her in a tight hug, lower his voice to make it sound sexier, "Only for you, baby." And they would laugh, together, in the apex of the beauty of the night...

.

The next few days were different, Slate had given Sorrow a vacation of sorts, to reflect, and remember. Being the one who brought about the revelation, not to mention the revolting accusations, Morris took a little longer to return that the time he was given. When he did return, things were back to normal, just a little different. Apparently Bethany had apologized to Kitten, and they were getting along as friends. Kitten had forgiven Slate, and they getting along even better than friends. And everyone else, had closer, and in some ways peace, with the knowledge of their departed leader, and friend.

Slate had the team run a few exercise to help them get back to working order. Exercise like target practice, and hand to hand, ending with a good old-fashioned Master Thief hunt. By her usual methods, Kitten was the only survivor. A few of the monsters had found a way around, and flanked the team, they all died in agony. Sore and depressed, Sorrow clambered out of their chairs, and limped pitifully to the eatery. Slate and Morris had been avoiding each other, but with ample coaxing, Bethany persevered. Slate approached him while he was trying to take a seat without moving his leg, which had seized up from being torn off by an angry Murderer.

"It's Friday," Slate began with some tantalizing information, hot of the press, "and some of us go out for drinks on Friday nights."

"I've been here so long, how did I not know?"

"...Because I didn't want you too."

Nothing of any real importance happened between then and that night. Slate and Morris stood in front of the bar where they usually met, waiting for the others to arrive. In an attempt to escape the boredom, Slate instigated conversation.

"Noting your military background, I'm surprised that you didn't know about this Friday night thing. "

"Actually I've never been as aware of my surroundings as some of the others."

"Really? I thought you would be one of those guys that know everything that happens within a mile radius of them. Or are your Murder Detective skills growing lax?"

"You're thinking of the regular Detectives, the ones who do all the skulking and stake outs."

"You've never done a stake out?"

"Why stake out when I can just break in? As long as I made it look like neither I nor the GGS had anything to do with it, I was good."

Slate paused for a second, "Ok, a rule about Friday nights, don't say anything like that around Pain."

"Why is that?"

"Well, he's been to jail on more than one occasion due to 'contesting' cases of Authority brutality, and government boundaries."

"Don't worry, I'll be good."

Nick and Bruce were the first to show in a cramped red car, as Pain came in last on a quiet motorcycle. "I know I say this every time," Bruce pointed out as he pulled up, "but a motor cycle is supposed to be loud."

"Cherece was custom made to be so quiet." Pain replied, running his hand over his black bike as if to say, 'that jerk didn't mean it, you're perfect the way you are.'

As the five of them walked into the bar, Morris took time to enjoy the friendships that he was building.

"If you're going to be drinking with us," Slate said, filling a shot glass to the brim with whiskey, "You've got to pass the test."

"A shot of whisky, really?"

"Not yet," he said, removing his gun; cocking it back he removed the bullet that he kept in the chamber, passing the bullet down the line. Slate gave the bullet to Bruce, who gave it to Nicolas, who gave it to Adam. Drawing a thin blade, Adam carefully removed the cap off of the bullet and passed it back. The gunpowder was poured into the glass, and the glass passed to Morris. A single thought passed through his mind, 'this cannot be healthy,' as he drank. The gunpowder passed through his mouth much faster than he had imagined, it didn't burn. As if reading his thoughts, Nick leaned forward.

"It's not the going down that's the test."

"Yea," Bruce added, "make sure you don't do any strenuous physical activity for a few days... you don't want that stuff to ignite."

"Doesn't gunpowder contain some poisons chemicals in it?" Morris asked, drinking from his freshly delivered beer as Slate raised his glass for a toast.

"To the difference between poisons, and lethal poisons!"

.

They ate and drank, and did a minute bit of talking, for just over an hour before Nick got up to leave, something about feeding his cat. The other four went on drinking for a while. Around an hour later, Pain rose to leave, saying his goodbyes.

"Just once you should stick around and get drunk with us," Bruce said as Pain donned his coat.

"I don't drink that much." was his reply, as all he had only been drinking tea and a few shots.

"You know you shouldn't be driving, if you wreck your bike I'm gonna laugh."

A few hours later Bruce made his way to the exit, for such a big man, he really couldn't hold his liquor, as he fell into walls and tables and a few other customers on his way out. Leaving Morris and Slate alone.

"Are you usually the last to leave?"

"Always, none of them can hang."

Morris picked up his glass, looking at the alcohol in his hand. "I wanted to say I was sorry for how I acted about Trixy. Probably should have had more respect."

"..."

"I know how it feels to loose someone, maybe not like that, but I've lost quite a few, some in gun fights, some in revenge killings."

"..."

He could tell that this wasn't a conversation that Slate wanted to have at the moment, so he decided to change the subject. "I, wanted to ask you... where the hell did you learn to fight though?" Morris still had some sores from the in game beating that Slate had given him.

"I had a... teacher."

"He must have been good."

"Not at all," he swished the drink in his glass before continuing, "did Beth ever talk about her parents?"

"No, not a word."

"When I was young, my father told my mother that there was another woman, and that this other woman was pregnant. My mother was a woman very slow to anger, and it was two years before she showed it. My family doesn't do divorce; we do arsenic and small knives, so my mother poisoned my father, and the other woman attempted to murder my mother. Beth's mother is in a mental institution for violent insanity, while my mother is a vegetable in a hospital. Beth and I really hit it off, so we decided to pretend that all our parents were dead, and move on."

"What did you do?"

"We pretty much just ran from adoption agencies, because there was a chance that we wouldn't have been adopted by the same family. We did some stealing, had ourselves a little life of crime going on, but it was dangerous, and my sister was getting too good at it. I joined a gang, and put my sister in an all girl school, I didn't tell her where I got the money, or what I was doing, but she figured it out later, smart girl."

"What was the name of the gang you joined?"

"Black Blood, and my job was walking, at least that's what I thought, they would give me a little package, and I would walk to some guys house who would trade my packaged with another packaged and I would walk back. I was young, thought I was getting paid for some morning exercise, to be honest, it was really fun."

"So when did you learn how to fight?"

"The guy I was walking for was called Fat Dog, I called him Mr. Fat... he didn't like it. Either way, when I was walking back on a certain day, I saw Fat Dog in a fight with two guys. He was holding his own, but they were slowly taking the advantage, I always kept a small knife in my pocket, because it made me feel cool, so I hopped on one of the guys back, and started stabbing the devil out of him. I didn't kill him, Mr. Fat did, he said that I had heart, and started teaching me how to fight."

"To what end?"

"...One of the guys I walked to regularly, Big Jack, was really nice to me, he gave gifts to both me and my sister... He was the first I had to kill... The money that Mr. Fat gave me was really good, I took my sister out of the broken down dorm of her school, and put her in a five star hotel. I got myself a very nice apartment, a nice car, and everything else that I wanted, except a budget... I didn't get myself one of those. And Mr. Fat would tell me to kill people, there were only two rules, no witnesses, and no evidence, I was the killer and the cleaner wrapped into one."

"What did he say to keep your conscience down?"

"He sweetened the deal, to be honest, I probably would have killed anyway, every kid longs for appreciation, and I had chosen the wrong guy to earn approval from. He told me that these guys I was killing were evil, horrible men, and I was making the world a better place. But it turned out that I was actually killing the leaders of the narcotics division of Black Blood, Fat Dog wanted to take over the whole section, and was having me kill the competition. But he got greedy, sent me after the top dog of the division, who happened to have one heck of a bodyguard. Long story short, after ten minuets of interrogation, they got what they wanted out of me."

"You broke that quick?"

"I thought I was killing horrible people, they asked who I killed, I gave them names. They told me, if I didn't want to die, I had to kill one more evil, horrible man, Fat Dog. At first I said no, but they told me what he was trying to do, and feeling like an over trusting, gullible sucker, I agreed. Fat Dog had some dogs, real big ones, so I starved them for a week and hung him from the ceiling. It went faster than I had intended. After taking care of Fat Dog, I decided to get out of the gang, seeing as a lot of them wanted me dead for killing their friends... so I dug up one of the guys that I'd buried, and spread his bones over the yard where the dogs were kept, I threw in my clothes as well, so it would seem that when I tried to let them out into the yard, I was unlucky... I think it worked, but I don't know for sure, because I didn't stick around long enough to find out. I changed my name, to Slate, because I wanted a clean one, and while I was looking for a place to go, Bethany dragged me here."

"How did she find about this place?"

"Bethany had found her own way of making money, wait at a bar, get some guy to take her to his place, drug him and rob him blind. She met Trixy the bar where she 'worked'."

"I'm guessing she used a fake name?"

"Raven, since I kept my fake name, she did to."

"So all of your documentations are fake?"

"Not anymore, we ditched all documentations when we came here, Bethany told Trixy that we changed our names to get away from our parents, and past lives, so Trixy pulled some strings and got us fully legal documentation."

"Not to speak ill of the dead, but was Trixy always so... trusting?"

"Trixy was very trusting, almost to the point of being gullible," Slate stopped himself for a second, "she was gullible... extremely gullible. But she was more than that; Trixy could empathize with anyone, she could read their emotions, and feel them as if they were her own. But yes, trusting was one of the best words to describe her."

Due to alcoholic consumption, Morris had forgotten of the topic that Slate had shied from before, as he asked the very straightforward question. "Why did you let her go?"

"...Because I loved her, and a major attribute of love, is trust. I didn't know what to do, so I chose to trust her."

"Trust her to kill herself?"

"Trust her to find her new world, grab a few souvenirs and come back... Trusted in what she believed."

"...Look, it wasn't you fault."

"I don't know, I mean, isn't that why you tell people about you dreams? So that you can focus on making them a reality, not have to worry about going too fast, or too far. Letting your friends worry about that, and trusting them to stop you from doing something stupid... And I said go..."

"Slate you cant blame yourself, it was her choice."

"Cant I? Was it? All I hear are excuses, I know I can't do anything about it now, but that doesn't excuse then. Maybe this is just something that I have to go through, hopefully this is my atonement."

Slate pushed himself away from the table, paying his tab.

"Don't try to help me," he rose to leave, "everyone else has tried and nobody was successful."

Morris grabbed his shoulder and violently put him back in his chair.

"If I cant help you," he said throwing another shot-glass in front of him and waiving the bartender over, "than I'm going to get you so drunk that you wont remember why you needed help in the first place. You want to know about failure?" He said as the bartender delivered a fresh bottle of scotch, "than let me tell you a damn story, about an amazing young woman, by the name of Lee Heroshi."

And so his story began, and he told it like an expert storyteller, he went from the highs to the lows, and even threw in some tangents. He talked from when it was dark outside, until the light broke into the darkness and the sun began to rise. They shared laughs, and there might have even been a few tears, but neither of them would ever admit it. And they consumed a truly unholy amount of alcohol, so much that Morris was passed out before he got a chance to end the story. And so he ended his telling, at that part, the memories of Lee, her eyes, her smile. Damn that smile, he ended his last telling of the story with the time that he truly believed that he would see that smile again.

.

Morris was woken violently from a peaceful slumber, his phone rang, and that noise on top of a vicious hangover counts as a violent waking. Slate said something about a mission, Morris wasn't really listening, he was more concerned about how he got home the night before. He arduously rose from his bed, and dressing himself while under the assault of the hangover. Luckily he found his way out of the hotel, across the street without getting hit by a car, and into the 'big H' in one piece.

"Is this really important?" He asked, walking into the immersion bay and seeing Slate, alone, leaning against his chair, and holding an ice pack to his head.

"I knew you wouldn't come any other way, I had to say it was a mission."

"Why the hell would you be here if there's no mission." His head throbbing with every word.

"Because I like feeling a hangover as little as possible. And you don't feel any pain inside the game."

"...Really?"

"Why else would I be here?"

They decided on where to meet up in game, and logged in.

"Isn't this cheating?" Morris asked, as he painlessly stretched in the middle of a street.

"...yea, technically we should be suffering for our evil deeds of drunkenness and all, but this is so much easier."

"I kinda feel bad about it."

"You'll get over it, much faster than you would a hangover."

The two of them walked thought the city, toward a tall building for some private practice, with a nice roomy roof with enough space for a nice duel, high enough to ensure no interruptions.

"So, what are we doing up here?" Morris asked, looking over the edge.

"You did want me to help train you with the flames right?"

"Yea."

"Well," he said, extending one had as it ignited in flames, "lets go."

Morris ignited his flames, noting that his control was nowhere as good as Slate's. He also noticed the color of his flames, closer to grey than blue, while Slate's held no grey at all, just a smokeless blue flame. After being thrown to the ground twice, it was apparent to him that it was not just the control and color of the flames that were different. He re-ignited himself, pausing for a second to focus on his flames, feeling them around him. They didn't burn, they just felt warm, and strong; like being hugged by a blob of muscle. He grew faster and stronger as they spared, but Slate's counter never slipped and his stance never fell, as he matched Morris's flame. As they went, Morris commented on the color of Slates flames, not quite as bright as Serenus', or as fine, but a mile better than his. Their conversation twisted to a different topic, as Slate began talking about her.

"Her flames were different than ours, for one they were red. She explained it as igniting her emotions, and she had some extremely strong emotions. Her flames were more red then her lips, and brighter than her eyes."

"You are incredibly sappy, Slate."

"She had that effect on people..."

"So how did you get so good with the fire? There so much brighter than mine."

"Trixy taught me."

"How?"

"She first had me try her training techniques, like running, and jumping off buildings. They didn't help me so she suggested... singing..."

"...Singing?"

"...yep..."

"And how did that work out for you?"

"Really well actually, it didn't work at all. Her flames were based on emotions, whereas blue flames seem more focused on control, control brought from actual real world combat. It worked wonders for her, and her flames increased exponentially, but it was difficult for me."

"Hard to concentrate...?"

"What can I say, she had a... very pretty voice. It was hard to stay focused while singing and dancing with such a beautiful woman."

"Singing and dancing?" Morris pried, "So what kind of melodies did you harmonize? Opera and tango?"

"Our arts and crafts were none of your damn business. But I improved quickly, my concentration and control got better." He held out his hand, engulfing it in flame.

"And that, is why these flames are so blue."

His flames danced on his hand as they stood face to face. "Wanna try again?"

"Why not?" Morris replied as the off-blue-ish grey flames ignited from his hand to his shoulder.

"I thought we were just practicing," Morris said to himself as he rubbed his head while climbing out of his chair, "he freaking killed me! That is not the way to train." As he recovered from his defeat, he promptly remembered his hangover as it re-engaged him. Slate's chair returned to its upright position as Morris began hobbling to the elevator. "Sorry about that," he began, "I really thought you were going to duck."

Morris was going to answer but his head hurt, and moving his lips was so burdensome. He waived his hand in reply, and continued his hobbling. Slate kept up with him, directing him to the eatery. "The chef makes a wonderful smoothie for hangovers, I bribed him to work on Saturday mornings."

Morris was slightly concerned by the fact that he didn't remember the elevator ride, he might have blacked out, either way, he swore to never drink again. The smoothie that was placed in front of him was delicious, and slowly his whereabouts returned.

"So I'm curious," he asked, reigniting the conversation, "after looking around the team, I've seen a lot of tension, like between Bethany and Kitten."

"Bethany and Kitten never really got along before, something about where they bought their clothes or something, not to mention how their first real training mission went. Then there's Ezra and Kitten, he thought she was ten years older than she really was, because of the way she would dress, and have her hair, also because he was never good at guessing ages. Kitten didn't notice his looking at her, and never let on about her age, it got really awkward when he made advances. There was also Trixy and Pain, Bruce and Ezra always looked at her like a daughter, because she was so young. Pain was the first that saw her as a woman, and they had something for a while, I don't know how it ended, but they defiantly had their differences, either way they did remain good friends afterwards so it couldn't have been but so bad. Pain and Ezra had some disagreements at first too, Ezra being in the Authorities and all..."

"Exactly, all that butting of heads, and tense relationships. I know every team has some heat, but between Sorrow's members, how did Trixy keep them together?"

"You do know what we were called don't you? Jewel was the one who started it, probably the reason I was always so hard on letting new people in. It was a nickname for Trixy's team, they called us 'the family'."

.

The 'hangover mix,' as the chef called it, worked wonders as Morris and Slate parted ways. The majority of his day was very boring, it included lots of sleep and some portable gaming. He and Bethany had planed a date for later in the evening, and he slowly made his way to the lobby where they were to meet. "Am I late?" He asked her, as she was sitting in the lobby, reading a magazine.

"Just a little, but Rage wants to see you in his office first."

"I think it can wait."

"Something about a performance review."

Those words usually meant a reprimand for Morris, as he and his superiors never quite saw eye to eye. Morris made his way to his father's office going over in his head everything he had done that could get him discharged. The list went on and on... As he entered the office, he saw his father sitting behind his desk, and Anne in front; she turned to him with her usual ecstatic attitude.

"Morris! Beth said she would get you here, I didn't think she could do it!"

Morris and Rage stood at odds in their usual fashion, while Anne tried to lighten the mood, and begin the festivities.

"Ok... let's start with some basic trivia! When was the last time you got drunk? I'll go first, last night... when I gave up trying to invent conversation starters for today... Morris?"

"Last night... washing down some memories..."

Rage sat back in his chair, "last night; I needed an excuse to get out of a boring meeting."

"What did you tell them?"

"That I was drunk beyond comparison."

"Did it work?"

"Hell yea! Got out of that meeting all right... have to go my AA meeting once a month now..."

They all enjoyed the humor, and as the laughs subsided, and the room grew quiet, Rage continued. "Trix liked to drink too... two sips of Sherry put her on her ass, but she tried anyway. The last time I saw her, we were drinking together..."

"Yea," Anne interrupted with a hint of vehemence in her voice, "I wasn't there."

"You were busy, and we couldn't find you."

"Hey, it's all in the past now... he who laughs last..."

After that slightly tense and awkward moment, the night smoothed out. Each of them told stories and shared jokes, the usual party stuff. Anne had brought some champagne, and Rage had the brandy in his desk. Morris and his sister sat with their drinks and listened to their father talk of his old boxing days. He was quick and strong in those days, could take an opponent to the ropes in seconds, of coarse he couldn't keep the opponent on the ropes, nor could he ever take much of a punch either... Rage didn't have much of a boxing career... "This really shouldn't be coming from me," Rage said as the stories commenced, and the sun set through the window in his office, "but I'm drunk enough to make a toast... To family!" The trio laughed, and tapped their glasses, and none of them remember the rest of the night.

.

Morris cursed the temptation of liquor as he woke, much earlier than he had anticipated, due to a call from his teammates. Off and on he blacked out as he made his way across the street, and to his surprise, he arrived at the 'big H' safely. He stumbled into the immersion bay as Dux Timmy was beginning a speech.

"Due to what happened the last time we attempted to obtain a DC, and how many times we botched the missions, we have decided to stop trying." A few in the audience objected as he told them of the plan to give up their best and only lead. "Starting today, we're going to get back to weapons tracking, which had seen some slight pick up. And also the Black Blood meetings, we'll keep spying on those too."

"Just one more, sir." Slate interrupted the Dux.

"We've tried six times."

"And I'm asking to make it seven."

"Don't you remember what happened last time?"

"My team," he said looking at Morris, "has been facing some difficulties, but we're passed it."

The room waited for Dux Timmy to make a decision, none of them liked the thought of giving up.

"We're ready now," Slate concluded, "and I know we can do it."

"Aww," Jewel interrupted his slightly egotistical argument, "is the family back together again?"

"My family," he said sternly, "and yes we are."

Slate advised them on the gear he wanted them to carry, and they departed to their perspective chairs, Morris pulled him aside before logging on.

"Don't you think that was a little conceited?"

"How?"

"All the previous missions were joint actions, you made it sound like it was just Sorrow, how do you not see that as vain, narcissistic, arrogant crap?"

"Timmy was about to give up our only lead," Slate grew defensive, "other than the DC we have nothing, and would probably get shut down." He paused for a moment, "Trixy didn't just unite Sorrow, she did it in a way that united everyone else as well. She acted as though Sorrow was the best team on the face of the earth, if something failed it was because of us, if we succeeded it was us. It was very presumptuous, but it worked, no one threatened to shut down anything after Trixy finished boasting."

"And what if we fail like we have done on every other attempt?"

"At least we have another chance."

Morris stood in the dressing room, tapping his foot to the ground and staring at the weapons, Slate had asked him to prepare for extremely close fighting, but with the ability to engage in long range as well. For the close range he chose his Satan's Tongue and two handguns. Light armor was a choice that eliminated the difficulty of quick movements. His dressing was interrupted by the request for long range efficiency, as a rifle would no doubt get in the way of any close combat. He found his answer in the largest handgun that he had, he add the silencer just to make it longer, then jerry rigged a rifle scope on it to create a tacky, makeshift sniper rifle. It probably wouldn't work, but it was the only thing he could think of, he stood on the green circle in the center, and appeared in the waiting room. Sorrow moved out as soon as Morris exited the SDB, during his time inside the weapons room, he had missed the conversation between Slate and the other Legatus, about the plan.

"All of the previous missions were based on us stealing the DC from Black Blood, but this time, we're going to take it from the source." Slate told Morris as they walked toward their goal.

"How did you find out where it is?"

"It wasn't that hard to figure out."

"You asked Anne?"

"No... I asked Bethany to ask Anne."

They continued walking as Slate explained all of the plans, and the backup plans A through J, each one a little more elaborate and risky than the last, and all tied together by bullet points, stages of the operation. Slate said that he had been up all night planning. A motion in the sky caught Morris attention, as what looked like a bird flew high in the heavens; it was the first bird that he had seen in game.

"I didn't know there were birds in this game." he mentioned to Slate.

"There aren't any," he replied looking up, "that is a Demon."

"You don't sound too worried about it."

"Because Demons don't interact with gamers, they rarely attack, but they will kill you if you attack them, leave them alone and they tend to do the same, it will fly away."

Morris continued to watch it, but it didn't fly away, circling was a better description. They arrived at the site where the DC should be found; Anne had directed them to a location in an open and spacious city, not good for a run and gun firefight, but plenty of good locations to hold up and defend. Morris knew by the layout, that it was going to be a long mission.
As they entered the building, that held an appearance between a church and a museum, Morris surveyed the surrounding buildings. On many of the random heights, members of FArrow were perched, scanning the lands below them. Morris looked to the top of the tallest building in the area, and saw Jewel; several members of First were playing the role of sniper cover. From what he could see, he really liked the layout of Slate's plan, "I didn't know you were a strategist," he complimented.

"It gets better."

Sorrow waited outside the building until everyone else was in position, upon an order from Slate, Bruce and Wraith ran off around the building, and two of Nick's guys, both armed with heavy armor and heavy shotguns, came in from the other side. Slate gave another order and Bethany and Pain ran across the street. Slate, Kitten, and Morris made their way up few stairs to the door, and inside. They expected some resistance, but only the wind met them.

"So what now?" Morris asked, "do we search the building?"

"No, Anne said it was on the second floor, on the left."

If it was anybody else, he would have asked how they knew, or even doubted their word, but it was Anne, so they ran up the stairs and took the first left. It wasn't a door to the left, as the entire left side of the second floor was one area, and a large arch took the place of a doorway. The room looked like it was for a dance hall, or potluck, for at least a hundred people. Kitten stood at their point of entrance while Slate and Morris walked in. On the far wall, in the far corner, sat a bookcase, with around twenty Disk-Cassettes laid out on the shelves, side by side; it was almost serene, for a bookcase. Slate approached slowly, there was a name written on the side of each DC, and he couldn't help but wonder if the names were important, he grabbed one on the bottom shelf, and turned to leave. Kitten was standing, looking at the ceiling as they walked past her.

"Is that a camera?" She asked.

"Cant be," Slate answered without looking, "Do you know how many days it would take to find enough wiring to hook up a surveillance system, or how hard it would be to find the tools to even make one?" He walked beside her, and looked at where she was pointing, "on the other hand."

The three exited quickly, after finding just how the Assistance always knew when Black Blood was stealing on of their DCs. "We're going to have company soon," Slate said over his radio, "and so we're going with plan B dash 7."

Everyone paused for a second, they had only heard the plan once, one by one they remembered what plan B dash 7 was. Morris didn't want to intrude, but he pulled Slate to the side, "What is plan B dash 7?" He asked, but before Slate could answer, a loud roar came from above, and the Demon swooped down towards them. Slate and Morris dove out of the way, and the Demon crashed down beside them, everyone present opened fire and drove the beast away, from the ground, Morris couldn't get a good look at it, but he did see its wings, like those of a bat, before it flew away. As he and Slate picked themselves up from the ground, FArrow called over the radio, the Assistance had been spotted closing in on their location. Slate looked flustered, but not defeated, "plan B dash 9!" He yelled over his radio, and everyone standing in front of the churchy museum bolted across the street. As they reached cover, Slate gave the order to the two TArrow guys, one of them removed a fake DC from his pouch, and they both kept running to another building. "Now we're going in to Subsection 2, and back to plan B dash 7." Morris tried once again to find out what plan B was, but gunfire rang from down the street, as TArrow engaged the Assistance, Nicolas came in over the radio, "They got here seven seconds early!"

"Ok, just switch to dash 8."

Morris leaned against the wall, tapping his foot, waiting for orders, Slate didn't seem to concerned with telling him the plan, so it apparently didn't matter. Slate turned to Morris and Kitten, "as soon as the Assistance gets here, we're going to begin Subsection 3, so don't do anything until then." Kitten seemed to know what he was talking about; Morris was in the dark, itching to try out his tacky rifle. FArrow came in over the radio again, as three Black Blood teams had arrived to the party, Slate replied with his usual, "switch to plan D dash 10." Morris deduced that Slate's plan incorporated all parties; he probably had a plan for if some random gamers came into the mix. Slate gave an order over his radio, and Ezra and King headed for the back of the building, leaving the three of them alone. And alone they sat, waiting for the Assistance to arrive, Slate mentioned that he had TArrow set up in a very defendable location, but he didn't expect them to have lasted so long. Gunfire sounded from close by, as a Black Blood team made there way into the building where the three were residing, and as they retreated deeper into the building, Slate called over his radio, changing to Plan E dash 6.5, a few minuets passed before the other Legatus confirmed, as few of them remembered what it was. In the midst of retreating, Slate tossed the DC to Kitten, and she disappeared into the shadows. They planned to turn and take on the Black Blood team, but a loud roar sounded as the Demon swooped into the building. Messy carvings and vile beatings sounded from the room just behind them, and as Morris poked his head around a doorway, he saw, standing in the middle of the four piles of body parts, the back of the Demon, strong legs like those of a horse, muscular arms, with nails like the talons of an eagle, while its skin was like that of a shark. The Demon had wings, like those of a bat, long thin arms, with the hands clasped together when the wings were at rest. Morris wanted to see the Demon from the front, but he didn't fancy getting demolished like the four, and so ducked back into cover.

"I though you said Demons don't attack gamers?"

"I am just as surprised as you." They stayed as quiet as ninja mice while the Demon finished surveying his surroundings, and flew out of a window, and away from the building. As the Demon flew over, the Assistance broke through TArrow's line.

"And this is where it gets tricky," Slate said, as most of the others had been lost since the first time he said plan B dash 7, "when the Assistance enters the building, groups six through nine will close the trap, and clean up; that will trigger the Assistance to send in reinforcements, and when that happens, we move on to Subsection 5."

"Didn't we skip Subsection 4?" Morris tried to keep up.

"Subsection 4 was if Black Blood sent more troops."

The answer didn't help Morris, but he knew that when his role came up, Slate would tell him. Slate looked around the surrounding rooms for a nice place for a fight, settling for a large room near the center.

"What happens if they find Kitten?" Morris asked.

"She's not in the building anymore." Slate stretched his tendons and his muscle.

"Than where is she?"

"Our pain setting is at fifty percent, its probably best you don't know," he answered, while doing a few jumping jacks, and some shadow boxing.

"Wait, are you implying torture?"

"Trix used to call this a 'two headed deception'."

"...um...why?"

"The operation leaders get trapped in a room, the Assistance will do everything they can to capture us, the leaders, and try to extract information. But it's a 'two headed deception,' I'm not in charge of the mission as of now, Jewel is. While their torturing us, the rest of the team will get away scott free."

"That's my role in this!"

Slate gave him a reassuring look, "I couldn't have anybody else here, none of them have been tortured before."

"I've never been tortured before!"

"Well, now you'll be able to cross it of your list."

"And what did you need the long range weapon for?"

"I figured it would take you a while to find one."

"But wont groups six through nine back us up?"

"I had Nick sacrifice one of his guys, so the Assistance would get a radio. I said that stuff about groups six and nine for them, we're not getting any backup."

"...And I though we were friends..."

Slate placed a hand on his shoulder, as if for comfort, "If it makes you feel better, I wouldn't rather anybody else to stand here with me."

Motion stirred near the entrance as the Assistance bundled in, Slate and Morris took position in the center room, and as Morris mouthed hateful things at Slate, he looked around the room in which he would soon be on the receiving end of some disconcerting experiences. The room was large, and a nice blue color, some random furniture graced the colorful carpet, and aside from the cobwebs, the room looked warm, and friendly. The ceiling was at least three stories high, and there was probably nothing more than an attic between it and the roof, all in all, there were worse places to die. The Assistance rushed in at a dead run, an attempt to get decent cover before 'groups six and nine' arrived. Slate slipped a small grenade off of his belt, "ready to get started?" He asked, throwing it down the hall as Morris mouthed 'no' as loud as he could. The blast killed several of the Assistance, but the others came up the hall running. As the sound of rushing Assistance grew louder, Slate drew his arms, Morris could see that his weapons selection was much like his own, two handguns, and two knives, Morris followed Slates lead, and drew his guns as well.

Its safe to say that most of the Assistance members have no formal military training, as they ran right into the center of the room were Slate and Morris planned their final stand. The fight began in the duo's favor, as they mopped the floor with the spunky gamers, but as according to Slate's plan, they called in reinforcements, and as the Assistance fell, the Trusted entered. The fighting grew real tough, real fast, Morris fell first, by about two seconds, but those two seconds would grow to two minuets when Slate tells the story. And so the violence subsided, with bodies pilled all over the room, Morris and Slate were lifted from the floor, and thrown against the wall, held firm by three Trusted each. A figure entered the room, a brown sports coat, and some tight red pants, a hairstyle sat on his head, that must have taken hours of pampering in the mirror.

"So," Ginseng said, "We can do this the easy way... or the fun way." He slipped a knife from out of his hair, flipping it through his fingers.

"We're not talking." Slate said defiantly.

"Yea..." Morris muttered under his breath, "what he said..."

A mean looking grin began to spread across his face as he advanced, but a loud crash came from above, and the roof fell in. In the midst of rock, brick and debris, the Demon slammed into the ground. Ginseng had ducked, but he wasn't fast enough, one of the long, yet cloven feet of the Demon crushed his lower leg, Ginseng howled with pain, until a sharp stab from the Demons wing silenced him permanently. In the seconds before the Trusted acted, Morris looked into the face of the Demon, its head was like that of a hoarse, only smaller, and its eyes like a snake. A wolf's ears perched on its head, and huge fangs flooded its mouth, and its tongue, like that of an anteater, was long enough to lick the fingers on an outstretched arm. The Demon wore a breastplate, carved from a black metal, its boots as well; an overlapping plate kilt guarded its legs. On its hip, sat a long thin sword, made from the same black metal as the armor, a spear was held in its left hand, with three entwined tips. The Demon looked around itself with a pompous air, it turned towards Morris, looking him straight in the eye, and as it began to raise its spear, the Trusted attacked. With loud screams and curses, the Trusted beat upon the Demon, and the Demon more than held his own, but Morris and Slate didn't hang around to see the victor. As soon as everyone's attention was elsewhere, they bolted for the door. Having fulfilled their part of Slate's plan, they headed straight for the SDB.

"I'm going to wait here for a while," Slate said, "Find out what's happening over the radio, they need to keep the DC safe until they can find some way of reading it. But thanks to the Demon, the Assistance will be looking for you and I, while the DC is long gone."

"I, am going to log out."

"You don't want to see the end of this?"

"You tried to get me tortured!"

"Yea... but my plan worked."

.

Morris woke slightly sore from the beating that the Trusted had given him, looking around the room, he saw that most everyone was still alive, either guarding the DC, or looking for a way to use it. All of the others who had died thus far, had left the Immersion Bay area, they had probably gone to the eatery, but after being chased by the Demon, and more so, being nearly tortured, he didn't feel much like eating.

Morris hobbled through the building, stretching his legs while he made his way to the library. The Demon had singled him out, and he wanted answers, he couldn't risk other demons interrupting their missions at random. Anne was in the library as he had assumed, perched on a chair, reading a random article.

"Morris, hey," she greeted him as he entered, "You cost me some money, I had taken bets on you to outlast Slate."

"I had some questions, Anne." It looked as though she had been in the library for a while, but he didn't bother to find out how she knew, and just moved on to his queries. "What was that Demon looking for?"

"That was Jerry, well the guy playing the Demon, his name was Jerry."

"I thought they were computer controlled?"

"The Sinners and other monsters are, but not the Demons, they are controlled by FourTech Gaming employees. They work as in game programmers usually, and also direct the storyline. Only in the Satan's Tongue storyline do they play an active role though."

"So they attacked because of my sword?"

"The storyline is, that Satan and his Demons are not too thrilled with humans getting hold of the swords, so they attack every so often, to add drama. It's nothing to worry about; they wont go all out because they're not supposed to kill the hero. There is a large rulebook they have to learn before they can play as Demons, on how to approach and how to fight. Just don't damage their wings, because then they are allowed to draw their swords, and they will kill you."

"Thanks, I'll remember that." He turned to the door as she continued.

"The Demons aren't anything to worry about, but Golgotha..."

"What about him?"

"You shouldn't ever run into him, he doesn't deal with us because we're not in his way anymore. But it wasn't that way for Phalanx." Anne paused to put down her book, looking Morris straight in the eye. "I don't know what happened in that mission Morris, but if you run into him, make sure that no one fights him, and I strongly suggest that you kill yourself to log out. When the two other members of Operation Phalanx died, they were nowhere near the known Errors, and the only constant in both situations, was the presence of Golgotha. If you face him, take him seriously."

Morris was a little frightened by her manner, as she was usually very flippant about such things. "Do you think we'll run into him?"

"I hope you wont."

Bethany interrupted their conversation abruptly, informing him that they had found a way to read the Disk-Cassette. Morris wanted to continue his conversation with Anne, because he thought she knew something more that she was letting on, something about her attitude was different, but they would have time to discuss it later.

The volume was on full blast from Nicolas' chair, and scowls were on the faces of everyone present.

"I just can't go on..." the DC was a recording of conversations.

"Just slow down, we have good days and bad days here. It gets better."

The second voice sounded like it was coming in over a phone or something.

"How does anyone do it? I mean, isn't it all pointless?"

"Reasons come with time."

"I can't see any reasoning with this."

"Look, it gets to all of us, you need some time to think, take a vacation. You ever been to the Hawaii Islands? They're not that bad, real pretty, even here. Blaze isn't doing anything, ask her to take you."

"No, just because I don't know how to cope with all this yet, doesn't mean that I'm going to let you guys down, I don't need a vacation... yet..."

"Hey..."

"Yea?"

"...Do you know what happens when the deserter comes home?"

"...yea, don't we all..."

"You need to get your head in the game, it's going to get dangerous. And remember, there is a reason that we're called the Damned."

"Don't worry, I've been practicing, and my control is getting pretty good."

"Alright, but don't forget your cell like you did last time."

.

The recorder stopped here, "What the hell was that?" Rage (like everyone else) was complete perplexed. "Am I the only one with questions? Was that a psychiatric appointment? Talking about finding a reason to play a game? The Hawaii Islands came from left field, and did that guy mention a cell phone?"

Morris watched as the conversation rose and swelled among everyone present. So many questions were brought up, from the use of the word pointless; too what kind of name is 'Blaze.' Everyone was in on the topic, except Anne, she had accompanied them to the room, but as soon as the recorded conversation had finished, she left. And Anne always had something to say. Morris contemplated following her, but Bethany approached him.

"Do you think that he was from the same group as Serenus and Ginseng?"

"They never mentioned the Damned."

"I don't know what to make of any of this." She mentioned, shaking her head. The only person who probably had any worthwhile opinion was Anne, and there had to be a reason for her to just leave, so quietly. Morris walked after her, but nowhere was she to be found. He tried the library; she had been there, but not anymore. He went to her lecture hall, but it was empty. One at a time he tried every room save the lavatory. Lastly he went to the help desk, the security personnel had called her a taxi, and she had left minuets ago. Morris quickly retrieved his car from the Mary-Anne Hotel across the street, as there was only one place that she would go. The very same place that she had asked him to take her so many times before.

.

His breaks screeched as he pulled up to the building that he had brought her to before. Nothing could be seen from the outside as he left his car on the opposite side of the street, and ran to the entrance. The inside of the building was much different than he had anticipated, smooth tile, rich looking upholstery, an all-around wealthy appearance. There was a very large staircase that led to the upper floors only on one side of the lobby, so they could be seen from the entrance. On the front desk was the emblem of FourTech, Morris approached the secretary who was simultaneously painting her fingernails, playing mahjong on the company computer, and betraying the trust of a close friend to another friend over the company phone.

"Excuse me, miss?"

"I know!" She said over the phone, "I told her the very same thing!"

"Miss? I'm kinda in a hurry..."

"Well she told Kimberly that I told Natasha that Shauna told Becky that..."

"Look lady, I'm looking for my friend..."

"That Therese told Tijuana that Candice told Wanda that Gilda told Bernice..."

Morris all but gave up on his attempt at achieving customer service, when a gunshot echoed from the second floor, followed shortly after by another. He was glad that his post military anxiety had persuaded him to keep his sidearm with him at all times; drawing it he rushed to the ascending staircase, cocked, loaded and ready for a firefight. As he ran up the stairs he saw three doors to three offices, he noticed the middle door was open as three flashes of light with three exploding gunshots sounded. Out of habit, as he approached the door with his gun held out before him he checked for cameras, and saw none. Closing in on the door as he prepared to breach, two security officers came around the corner, guns drawn. Time slowed as Morris faced immediate action, on first glance the oncoming security was backup as he quickly fired three shots, the first tore through the head of one of the guards, expecting the recoil Morris had brought the gun down as he double-tapped the trigger killing the second guard. He was sure beyond the shadow of doubt that Anne was in this building, and any action was brought on by her, it was a question of loyalty. Morris entered the room. First he saw the body of a guard, then Anne, holding a smoking gun, standing over the body of a man he didn't recognize, that must have been her informant. She hadn't noticed him yet; and walked over to a computer terminal.

"Anne? What happened?"

"...Morris, ironic."

"Anne, talk to me, what happened?"

She finished her work on the computer, and turned to him.

"It's... bigger than I thought..."

"It? What is?"

"And you guys aren't ready."

"Aren't ready for what?"

"They really want to get rid of you, and their ready to go all the way."

Morris looked out in the hallway for a second, there was no movement, and they were safe, for now.

"What are you talking about?"

"You should see the budget they've set up for this..."

"Come with me Anne, you can tell me everything when we get back."

"Morris..."

"Come with me."

"If you were a pawn, in a game of chess..."

"Anne..."

"Would you simply play your role? Or would you leave the board and see what the real world was..." her hand began to shake as she looked at her gun.

"What are you talking about Anne?"

"We never had this talk... you came in here, saw me, I said... six words... and that was it."

"Anne slow down, we don't have to rush this."

"If you get a chance, when all of this is over... tell my father I was sorry."

He dropped his gun to the floor, stepping towards her, "Anne, we can talk about this, get through this... together."

"The six words... ready? ...Say hi to Trix for me."

She put her gun to her jaw, "wish me luck," and pulled the trigger.

Morris ran towards her, catching her body, in the GGS, he had seen his fair share of suicides as well. He had seen enough to know that she missed, but she didn't have long. He called the hospital, but he knew that he couldn't be there when the authorities arrived. Realizing that two guns had been used, and his gun was unregistered, as Murder Detective's sometimes need to make unregistered actions. Counting the bullets, he removed five from his magazine and placed the gun in her hand. Holstering her gun, which was registered from the GGS, he touched her shoulder, whispering an inaudible prayer. He timed it just right, leaving the scene just as the ambulance arrived, washing off the blood in a rest room while calling Rage; he went to the hospital on his own.

"A friend of mine was just in an accident, her name is Anne."

"She is no condition to be accepting visitors."

"Can I just see her?"

"The brain scan cant even be set up yet, her condition is very bad, visiting hours will begin in a couple of days."

He had gotten the information that he needed... He hated having to act, pretend that he wasn't there, like he didn't know what happened. But he still hadn't decided on his statement, and anyone would have seen that he was hiding something, should he tell them everything? Or what she asked him too, how do you decide to betray a friend?

As he stood in the hospital waiting room, Bethany approached him.

"What happened, how is she?"

"They don't know, where is everyone?"

"Sorrow was sent on a mission, Bruce, Ezra and I had just died when we got the report of what she had done."

"Were is Rage?"

Bethany fell silent, making her way to a chair, she sat down.

"He isn't coming."

"What?"

"Anne is accused of committing quadruple homicide... I didn't come to morn, I was sent to interrogate her. Have they set up the brain scan yet?"

"She's not stable yet, setting it up could kill her."

"You said you were there when you called, can you tell me what happened?"

Morris took a minuet to answer, "I'm not ready to give my statement yet."

"I'm not asking for your statement, I just want to know what happened."

"...I entered the room, she turned... said 'say hi to Trixy for me,' and...shot herself."

"Is that everything that happened?"

"... No... but that's all she wanted me to say."

"Than that's all that happened."

Bruce and Ezra entered the hospital a little after Beth, and the four of them stood in the hall outside of her room.

"She has blackmailed everyone in the H," Bruce commented, "I never thought that she would attempt suicide, or even shed a tear if she ever killed someone."

"What did she mean by 'say hi to Trixy,' like she thinks she's going to hell." Bethany looked to Morris, "I know her, she had to have reason to do something like this."

"She's an atheist, I think," he replied, " she doesn't believe in hell. Or in heaven."

She turned to the window, placing her hand on the glass as she looked at Anne,

"Whatever we think she meant doesn't matter, the report is going to say that she means us all to die, as in 'say hi to the only other dead person we all know and love, when you see her.'"

"She would not do that!" Bruce rebuked in anger.

"I know! ...But I'm not writing the report; it's coming from FourTech. The courts want to condemn her to life on a Mars penal colony, but FourTech is vying for execution."

"Execution has not been done for over a hundred years, that's the point of the Mars penal colonies."

"Yes, but whatever she knows, they don't want her to talk, but its worse than that, FourTech is really trying to shut down the entire Second World Division. Whatever Anne did, she started the end of us."

"Or them." Morris commented.

"They have a fleet of lawyers, not to mention the demons which will start targeting us on missions."

Bruce leaned to Bethany, "do they have access to our records?"

"Yes, we can't win this."

Morris looked at the three of them, all in agreement.

"What do you mean? What do the records have to do with this?"

Bethany looked at him with a defeated smile, "why do you think that Sorrow is the only Arrow to gain evidence?"

"..."

"We were going to be shut down-" Bruce explained as Beth interrupted him, "and that cannot happen, gangs are recruiting, dealing drugs and acting out unchecked, and we're the only ones really doing anything about it. So what if we aren't making discoveries by leaps and bounds, it may be slow work but it is necessary work."

"So you created evidence, falsified reports."

"What else were we supposed to do?"

"Whose idea was this?"

"Mine," Bruce leaned against the wall as he continued, "When the budget cuts started, and the hinting, that we would be shut down. Pain and I, we decided to do something about it, Slate caught on to us, and we've all been in on it ever since."

Morris stood silently; Beth took his arm, "We didn't tell you-"

"I don't care that you didn't tell me, ...over the past few months I've began to trust Anne, trust her with everything, from information to blackmail and extortion, I trust her to use and exploit every angle."

"She's family," Bruce mentioned under his breath.

"And... I'd trust her with my life, Anne had her reasons for murder, whatever reason FourTech has for wanting her dead, it isn't because she's a threat to mankind. I don't think they will send lawyers after us, especially when they can just block us in game. And if they want to keep us out of the game so badly, there must be something there they don't want us to find."

Bruce smiled, "what are we hunting?"

"If I hid something in the game, I would place something there to protect it, something that would scare anybody away."

"You want to hunt Psychopaths?" Only Bruce was enthralled with the idea.

"Yes." Morris replied.

"But Psychopaths are placed in deep and dark areas, what could they possibly need them to protect?"

"That's what I mean to find out."...

.

"And you really think this will work, that there's actually something to find?"

They all stood in Rage's office, trying to convince him of their plan.

"Yes sir!" they all said in unison.

"...Ok then, as soon as FArrow comes back from their mission, -and their getting butchered by the way so it shouldn't take too long- then you can go, everybody. There are hundreds of places suited for them, how do you plan on searching them?"

"We split into teams of two," Morris already had it planed out, "we will have eighteen teams, and then we just start with the ones closest... and move through." Not that it was a good plan, but one plan is better than nothing. They waited for FArrow to finish, which didn't take long at all, and had their strategy meeting, divided into their eighteen teams, and headed out.

.

There had been no big speech, no stirring monologue, no tear wrenching eulogy. Morris stood in the weapons room, thinking, he didn't have too much time, as his partner Wraith never took long to prepare. 'Say hi to Trixy for me,' 'Wish me luck,' and 'Tell my father I was sorry,' ...What? How could he make heads or tails of any of this? What did she mean by when it is all over? Millions of questions, but they all had to wait, this was fast becoming a war, and whatever he did, he had to fight. He dressed in his armor, grabbed his guns, and his Satan's Tongue, put on his helmet and knelt on the green teleport.

"You ready?"

Tobius Zain stood over him, a special helmet, featuring night-vision goggles, and a voice activated range finding binocular. His side arm was different, having two silenced barrels and an extended magazine.

"Yea." He replied, as the two of them headed for the door. He put his hand to his radio, "Wraith and Morris, heading out."

.

"Listen up!" As they were the last to call, Slate had waited to give his motivational lecture, "Psychopaths were built and designed for one purpose, overkill of the horror tag for a game rating. They are masterfully programmed to watch, listen and learn about the person they are trying to scare, and they have a programmed response for every situation you present them! They have also been updated with six hundred and sixty-six different phrases, to scare the hell out of everyone they come into contact with. If you get caught by one, do not take it lightly, because it will repeat in your nightmares. One of the men who participated in the rating of this enemy, now lives in an asylum, take it seriously. There is only one flaw in the design of this opponent, and that is its ability to converse. Remember to talk to it, get it to talk back, it's going to say some really creepy stuff, but if you can catch in a loop on its own verbal cues, and keep it repeating, you will be safe. Watch you partner's back, and try not to die."

Slate finished his speech and looked over to Kitten his partner.

"What did you think? Impressive?"

"Inspirational."

They laughed as they walked toward their targeted location.

.

Morris and Wraith approached their target, a research post of unknown depth, both creepy and eerie, and no kind of Adventure assigned it.

"This place sure fits our bill, there is sure to be a Psychopath in here." Wraith smiled, placing his hand on the butt of his gun.

"Lets go hunting." Was the jolly reply.

Morris took point as with overzealous trepidation they entered into the structure. The place was dark and incredibly eerie, not a sound save their footfall and the wind. Not a sight to be seen, but the brave duo knew they were being watched.

"You think it's a Psycho?" Wraith asked.

"...Do I look psychic?"

The wind made a sound and they rushed to investigate, weapons at the ready, and all they found was a fresh blown pile of dust and debris. They crept deeper and deeper into the abysmal looking building, and with every step their surroundings became even more eerie and sinister. An odd sounding cracking noise came from somewhere up ahead, and again they rushed to inspect, finding nothing but a feeling and some frost in their spines. They continued for a while, ever getting closer to the feeling that they had, but never catching up with the source.

"Something is here," Wraith observed, "just running circles around us, we should split up, and surround it for a change."

"No, splitting up is a horrible idea."

"Oh common, we can hold our own."

"All it would accomplish is splitting our strength in half."

"What, you don't think you're strong enough?"

"I didn't survive as long as I have by demeaning my opponent."

"Fine, we're going to be here for a while though..."

Whatever it was that they thought they were following seemed as though to vanish, and the duo kept exploring the deeper floors. Without a directory, or some kind of map, each and every floor they entered, they hoped was the lowest. But then in some obscure corner or down some dark corridor, they would find yet another dismal stair well leading to yet another floor even lower than the last. The sad part was that there was nothing of interest on any of these floors, just randomly placed sofas, and some soda machines.

"This is getting ridiculous." Morris had been itching for a fight since they entered the building.

"You don't say..."

Wraith asked over his radio to check if anybody else was having any more fun. Bruce and Bethany had finished searching a small structure and were heading for another one. King and Pain had discovered an absolutely amazing cobweb, but other than that had nothing to report. Ezra and Nick had finished scouting three different structures and were flying through to the next one.

"This is Slate, haven't found a thing."

"Well at least we're not the only ones playing in the dust." Kitten said as she crushed a dust-bunny under her heel.

"We are here to be thorough, and don't drop your guard, this thing is supposed to be horrific."

"Have you actually seen one?"

"No."

"Than how do you know? I don't think anyone actually seen one, but I guess it's best to be safe than sorry."

"It's not just about safety, I believe in pride."

"Pride?"

"The game designers put their all into this, to make it perfect, the testers insulted their work, their art. And in response they make a new monster? Would your pride allow you to half-ass it? Or to cut corners, or skimp out on the details?"

"Hmm, I guess not."

"Just keep your guard up."

She replied with a lazy 'ok' and they continued through the museum they were clearing. Slate took the lead, with a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other, Kitten brought up the rear, both hands on her hips.

"There's nothing here."

"You're probably right, but lets make sure."

And their boring work commenced, they checked every corner, inspected every crevice and poked through every closet that could possibly be a secret entrance... but none of them were. Slate stepped outside after Kitten, stretching his back.

"We're finally done."

"Didn't even find a rat."

He spoke over his radio to check the progress of the team. Wraith and Morris had picked up a sent, but had nothing yet, while Ezra and Nick were half way through their fifth area. King and Pain were in their second area, a deep basement that even the ghosts had moved out of, the two of them walked alone save the embodiment of boredom...

"Bethany? Bruce? You guys still with us?"

Silence came over the line.

"Bethany!"

Nothing but the static, "The bunker isn't far," Kitten approached him, "We can get there quickly."

Before he could answer, Wraith came in over the radio, "There is a nest, that we're closing in on, lots of movement. We could use backup."

"Damn it." Slate stood torn in two with the decision, putting the radio to his ear, "I'm on my way." He turned to Kitten.

"Find Bethany."

"Me?"

"You're not good with overwhelming numbers, that's my thing. Can you...?"

"Count on me."

She was half way down the street before realizing what she had just said, she was always the terrifying demon lurking in the shadows, and now she had to face one... Kitten decided not to think about it, as she ran to Beth and Bruce's position.

.

The building was in sight, a few blocks down. She slowed to a walk, "Beth? ... Bethany say something!" She called over her radio, "Common Bethany! Please tell me I came all this way for nothing..."

There was no reply as Kitten approached the entrance. It was an old looking structure, a rich looking house. She pushed open the ramshackle door, and it almost fell off its hinges. She crept down the entrance stairwell, and the shadow of sound greeted her, soft yet sharp, eight padded claw like feet on the hard wood floor. At the end of the stairs was a large room, one thing she hated about the game, you could smell blood. High arching doorways led from the dark room she inhabited to three rooms around her, a faint noise from the left, and she followed. Kitten walked with a steady stride, as her foot graced by something her gun flashed into her hand, pointed at sprawling on the ground, the remains of Bruce... half eaten. "This is just a game..." she repeated under her breath.

"Are you sure?"

Both magazines of both guns empty before she overcame the shock of the raspy voice. She quickly reloaded before stepping further into the room, none of her bullets had hit their target, and she had heard the Psychopath retreat from the room.

"Bethany?"

Nothing, "Bethany? Come out all ready..."

Not a sound as she moved forward, her step much slower than before, with a slight shaking. Her heart beat quickened, swift as the dank breeze that brought sounds of fright... a low, hoarse, breathing, with the hint of a scream, before again, it spoke.

"Just a smidgeon of horror... just a hair, of fear..."

It crept away, and from another corner its voice rang, "a touch of terror, and blood-curdling dread."

"Bethany!" Kitten stepped into the room, guns in hand.

"You're looking for your friend? Check the gunk dripping from my teeth..."

"Calm, calm, calm down." She whispered to herself, trying to calm her nerves, trying to stop her shaking hands.

"What do you think you will find, of your friend? Other than her quivering remains?"

Half a magazine in the direction of the voice, she heard the bullets miss. Accompanied by trepidation Kitten searched the floor, not a sound was heard, nor a word spoken for a time, but it didn't go away either. She could hear it, just far enough away to be heard. Through a room, down a hallway, into a corridor she looked, remembering how quickly she had answered, "Count on me."

.

Slate ran toward the location that Morris and Wraith had chosen, he wanted to go to Bethany, but he had to remember his mission, and have faith in Kitten.

"False alarm Slate." Morris' voice came in over the long distance radio. "We ran into a nest of Gluttons, Wraith is down, but we took care of it. No Psycho's here."

"Curse you Wraith," he muttered under his breath as he turned back toward Bethany.

.

"Bethany get out here already!"

Her voice cracked and it angered her, not wanting to admit that she was afraid.

She heard a rustling from a side, and Bethany's voice, "Have you seen the children?"

"Beth? Is that you?"

"The little baby spider bugs..."

"Bethany?"

"The kind of bug that feels like it's on you..."

"Bethany...? Why are you talking like that?"

"Crawling up your leg... can you feel it on your thigh?"

She felt something dart past her leg, firing a bullet but there was nothing there.

"Bethany I'm here for you, don't make me change my mind about this..."

"How can you rescue me... while I'm hunting you...?"

"...you're not Beth... You're the Psychopath, a program. I know that's not you Bethany!"

"You hope..."

"I know it! Say my name!"

"Your name...?"

"SAY MY NAME!"

"Your name... is my prey..."

A hand grabbed her shoulder, and she spun around, the hand blocked her arm as she fired a bullet right beside her head. "I don't know your name." Bethany said as she limped out of the shadows.

"Bethany! Than who was talking?"

"It can copy our voices, that's how it got Bruce."

Kitten put her hand to her radio, "Slate, I found her...."

"I'm on my way."

"Oh good," Kitten sat on a pile of rubble to rest, turning to Bethany, "Lets get out of here."

"Not yet Kitten, we were sent here to find something, and I think we did."

"What was it?"

"A doorway we were approaching, before it attacked us, there was a blue glow."

Kitten stood and reloaded her guns, motioning for Bethany to lead the way, she followed timidly.

Every step forward brought forth new sounds, creaking floorboards, and cracking noises, with the winded screams of the body of dismay. Flashes of movement and sights barely seen, pressing Kitten to the edge of her nerve, she couldn't understand how Bethany seemed so much in control. They were approaching the hall, approaching the door, when they heard his voice from behind them.

"I'm here girls! Come on!"

Kitten stopped in her tracks as he continued, "Hurry up, lets get you out of there!"

Bethany grabbed her shoulder, and Kitten wriggled out of her grasp, turning towards her, "What?"

"That isn't Slate."

"Yes it is!"

"Kitten it's not him!"

She pushed Bethany away, "do whatever you want, I'm leaving with Slate."

"Kitten! -," She tried to speak but Slate yelled to them again.

"I'm here girls! Come on!"

Kitten turned toward the exit, "Slate?"

"Yes?"

"Is that you?"

"Of coarse its me silly, who else would it be?"

"Would a program say that?" She asked Bethany, who didn't have an answer, but doubt breeds doubt in others. She crept closer to the doorway, "Slate...?"

"What?"

"...say my name..."

"We don't have time for this..."

"Just, say it..."

"Kitten, I know you're scared, but it's just a little further."

She smiled, flashing a grin at Bethany as she ran toward his voice. As she turned the corner she was met by a vile scream, gaping maw and rows of razor fangs. The arms of the Psychopath reached for her as the chest ripped open revealing rows of jagged teeth and a tight gullet. Bethany reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her back and putting herself in harms way. The fangs of the Psychopath dug into Bethany's arm, she painfully tore away and they ran, firing blindly in their wake. They ran until they found themselves in a large room, debris pilled higher near the walls, and low in the center, the wrong place for a final stand, the perfect place to die.

"DAMN IT!" Kitten fell to the floor as Bethany covered.

"We'll get out of this."

"I'm sorry, I should have believed you."

Bethany counseled her for a while, till the shadows danced, and the debris stirred, a third being entered the room.

"It's back," Bethany said while bringing her weapon to bear, firing into the darkness and hearing the bullets miss their mark. She turned back to Kitten, trying to think of something to say, a plan, but only death was present with them.

"Kitten... I don't know what else to do."

"...Beth don't leave me," she weakly replied, "please..."

A loud scream pierced the dark as the Psychopath initiated its attack, Bethany opened fire, but the horror was too fast, coming in close with a sweeping strike, the enemy threw her into the surrounding rubble. She rose fast, bringing out her knife, but it was too little as the Psychopath slashed across her stomach, tearing at her legs, bringing her to her knees. And with an overwhelming finish, with one hand wrapped around her head, tore her to the ground.

"BETHANY!" She screamed as her last hope died...

The darkness crushing, the loneliness overbearing, and the fear... Kitten lay on the ground, burying her head with her hands, her entire body shaking. She could hear it all around, orbiting her, drawing ever closer. She knew that she had to initiate a verbal converse in order to postpone the inevitable for as long as she could, as she had forgotten all manner of hope in rescue. She tried, but only two words came out in a whisper.

"...help me..."

"Just a smidgeon of horror... just a hair of fear..." was the cold answer.

"...please..."

"Beg... for your swift demise... it wont help, and it wont be..."

"...please..."

"Are you scared of the dark?" Why would it fake his voice.

"Slate?" His voice was coming in over her radio, it had to be him.

"How can you be scared of the dark Kitten? You are the dark... How can you be scared of something playing in your shadows?"

"Save me..."

"Kitten... but you don't need me."

"SAVE ME!" She tore at her radio, throwing it across the room. She was terrified, to scared to scream, to frightened to fight, hopeless, helpless, but still, also, sick of it. She tried to stand but a slimy sounding snarl brought her back to the ground, back to her fear. She had to overcome it, she knew it, but it was hopeless she was helpless, in need of a boost. Three words escaped her lips, less then a whisper, more like a thought, less than a decision, but a scared and lonely conviction, "...death as reward..."

"Can you hear me...?" She said to the monster, hearing it crawl around the room, feeding off of her fear.

"Will you answer me...?" She tried to stand, still shaking with fear.

"Try..." It hissed like a snake, "try to overcome your fear..."

"Your playing in my shadows... little bug..." Baiting the hideous embodiment of horror, but also, finding herself.

"... ...Try-"

"Shut up." She stood, placing a hand on the button on her belt, but not pressing it.

"Stand and fight," in Bethany's voice, it switched to Bruce, "It didn't help any of your friends."

"...How could I fight you? You're everything that I hate about me..."

Of all the times for heart felt realizations.

"... ...a touch of terror... and-."

"Blood curdling dread yes I know, that's how I destroy my enemies as well."

"You're looking for your friend? Check-."

"Your teeth? I usually throw the head towards them, it scares them that much more, to be honest I've never been on this side of the fear."

Bethany struggled from the side, "Kitten... help me..."

"Pulling on my heart strings... it would have worked better if you hadn't ripped off her head in front of me."

"Kitten! It's me Slate! I'm here baby just come to my voice."

"That's not my Slate, cause he would come to me, he's my friend."

"You're looking for your friend? Check the gunk dripping from my teeth..."

"A concept you don't even know, that you can't even understand... that I couldn't accept... I didn't know..."

"Face me..."

"You can't scare me anymore."

The Psychopath crawled around in front of her; she could see it reading to pounce. "Face me..."

"You lonely, weak, little girl... hiding in the shadows, pretending to scare..."

Its sunken eyes, its razor fangs, "Face me..."

"You're despicable."

Its long sharp claws on its thin rotten arms, "Face me..."

"No."

Its chest opened and the rows of teeth clashed, "Face me..."

"I don't have to fight like that anymore."

Its lower abdomen morphed into the vulgar tongue of a spider, "Face me..."

"I'm not alone anymore."

Its eight legs ready to pounce, "Face me..."

"These are my shadows, but you can have them!"

Eyes, "Face me..."

"Because I don't need them any longer!"

Teeth, "Face me..."

"My darkness will no longer save me!"

Claws, "Face me..."

"My friends will save me!"

Fear, "FACE ME!"

"NEVER!"

Fire exploded from behind her as Slate charged in with overwhelming power. The Psychopath lunged but Slate slammed into it, the force of his flames throwing it to the ground. And Slate stood over the essence of terror, burning it to ash with his presence alone.

"You're safe, Bronze."

"Speak of the devil."

.

Kitten slowly followed Slate outside of the building, he walked quietly, guiding her with his hand. "You can go, Kitten, log out. I think you've seen enough action for a while and could use the rest."

"No... I'm with you."

Slate might not have agreed with her continuing, but he loved her spirit. He walked away, but she wasn't following him, he slowed to a stop and watched her. Standing, facing the house, she turned to him, extending her hand, and asked for a knife, as she didn't carry one. Slate gave her one of his knives and watched, with care Kitten cut away the parts of her outfit that she had attached to her black belt, she removed it, holding it in front of her.

"What are you doing with that?" He asked.

"I don't want it anymore."

"That belt has saved your life many times, saved you a lot of pain."

"I know, but I would rather die, and experience that pain with my friends, than to survive, and be comfortable alone. I'd rather die than use this belt again."

"I never thought I would hear you say that, what about your death ratio?"

She smiled, "records were made to be broken, and mine should be top for quite a long time." throwing the belt toward the building, the two of them turned to leave.

.

Ezra and Nick had requested backup for the building they were searching, they listened to the address, and the two of them walked quietly, and peacefully, together.

"Do you think Bethany is ok?" Kitten asked.

"She is fine, nothing scares Bethany except Cannibals."

"She was really, heroic... I bet she would have won if she wasn't trying to protect me."

"Don't worry about her, she's fine."

They walked together to the house, choosing the location of the building Ezra had told them of. As they exited the SDB, Morris stepped out behind them, enquiring of Bethany, they informed him of her fearlessness as they walked.

The three of them walked the few blocks to the address. Morris looked over it as they approached. "Yea, I know this building, this is where I took Anne, this is where it happened. It looked like a FourTech building of some sort on the inside, but held no markings on the outside."

"Was anything important inside?"

"All I saw was a bunch of offices, but then again I wasn't really sight seeing."

"Maybe we'll find something here." Slate said as he took the lead, entering the building.

Ezra was waiting by the door, as Pain and King had already arrived. Apart from Sorrow, only four other people were there, all from TArrow, as it seemed all other teams had died on their individual missions. Ezra took the lead, leading them through the building to a large elevator in the back. "We could take the stairs, but it's a long way down." He said as they all crammed in.

"We called for back up when we saw the map of this place, it's too big to be a replica of the real world, but it doesn't hold any markings of Futrek either. As far as we know it has nothing to do with the game." Ezra talked as they exited the elevator, stepping into a rather large room with a dark corridor directly in front. Slate walked to the map, where Nick had been waiting. It showed on the far side of the corridor a huge round room, with an enormous energy consumption rate when activated.

"Whatever we were looking for on this mission, I think it's here." Pulling out whatever flashlights they had, the team began their journey down the long dark corridor.

The eerie corridor went down at a slight angle to a very large, spherical room. Completely dark it lay before them, all that could be seen was a faint path that led straight to the center of the room. And in the center of the dark room, sat alone, a small computer terminal. Slate and the remainders of Sorrow moved briskly into the room, down the little path to the computer. While Nicolas and his team watched timidly from the doorway. "It's never smart to go waltzing into an unfamiliar place without-"

"Oh shut up, we'll be fine." Anything could have been hiding in the darkness, but Slate was feeling overzealously bold as he barked his insult at Nicolas. The team poked and prodded their way to the computer. They couldn't see from the door, but all around the terminal were large rocks, around three feet high, almost perfect for taking cover behind, as though the room was designed for a fight. The computer itself was very small, just a thirteen inch screen and a keyboard. Sorrow investigated it as though they had never seen a computer before, they looked it over from top to bottom, but it was, in fact, just a regular laptop. After a few minuets of investigating, Slate moved to interact with the computer.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Nick said over his radio from the safety of the doorway. "A little curiosity never hurt anybody." Slate replied. He fiddled with the keyboard. Morris and Ezra stood cautiously to the side.

"And how did you find this place?" Morris asked.

"We were just walking past, we had gone through so many areas, that we thought we could take a little detour. This place looked so creepy, and we were looking for a good scare, hunting Psychopaths and all, we thought we might run into a good fight."

The computer turned on with a low hum, and the screen lit up. The word 'premium' on the top of the screen, as the words 'activate lighting' appeared on a large button in the center of the screen. He contemplated pressing enter, and turning on the lights. Half of the team agreed, while the other half shared Nicolas' concern.

"We'll have a better idea of what this room is with the lights on." Slate's reasoning won the discussion as he hit the key. A deep thrum resounded around the room, and the lights began their slow illumination. As the lighting grew, they could see the mass expanse that they were in. The ceiling looked to be around a hundred yards high, and standing in the center of the circular room, the walls stood sixty yards in every direction. The lighting, when finished activating, was poor, just enough to see, but not enough to see well. Shadows were stretched all around, as the teams could see, hanging from the ceiling four large structures, built like hives. They were constructed of filth, death, and spider webs, and as the lights climaxed at their dim burn, the four structures began to shake and rustle.

"Perhaps turning the lights on was a bad idea..." Slate now agreed with Nick, but not to the point of apologizing. The four sacks hanging from the ceiling began to rip. Openings appeared on the bottoms, and spider legs extended out. What sounded like a hundred voice, sounded out in unison, "fear us," they said, "face us, die in agony."

They crawled out few by few, spine chilling screeches and vile screams. Vulgar words spoken simultaneously by the horde of malevolent atrocities. The Psychopaths crawled around the ceiling, down the walls, dropping down to the floor, and disappearing into the creeping shadows.

"We are surrounded, and in horrible position for defense." Morris gave Slate the cliff notes of their predicament.

"We'll give you whatever backup we can," Nick said, "but we're not stepping a foot inside the room, we'll fight from the doorway."

They fired senselessly at the ceiling, rarely hitting anything as the enemies looked like ants crawling on the roof so high above. As they fired, TArrow scanned for a better position, or a back exit that their friends could take. Sorrow took up whatever positions they could behind the rocks around them, while the monsters shrieked and cried, seldom attacking, being designed to scare, and terrify their foes before granting death. Slate and Kitten stood near the computer in the center of the room, firing at any hostile that made its way into the light.

"Wish you kept your belt now?" Slate asked, not in a condemning way, but the belt would have put them in a better tactical position.

"No," she answered, "it would have done me no good."

"Like hell it wouldn't! You would be all over these things!"

"You can't fight fear with fear, you fight fear with resolve, and I don't need my belt for that."

He was impressed by her answer; it didn't put them in any better position tactically, but it was a deep thought to reflect upon, after their brutal demise and all.

The Psychopaths began to embolden as they sensed fear growing inside Sorrow, their attacks increased, as they threw themselves more violently. Sorrow fell backwards together, making a tight circle around the computer, contemplating a mass suicide as an escape.

"Far side of the room," Nicolas said over the radio, "It's an exit."

The team barreled toward the far wall, "you cannot escape us!" The voices screamed at them, and the monsters charged more frequently, the sheer number of them overwhelmed as they rushed like a storm towards the fleeing team. The air froze as the monsters grew close, slowing and crumbling they made contact with Pain's Void. As they reached the wall, the ice formed, the air froze into a protective dome.

"Wow," Morris was taken back by his power, "I see why they call it the 'Frosty Power'!" Pain didn't reply, just focusing on his barrier.

"Why didn't you do this before?" Various members of the team asked.

"..."

"Wait, were you scared?"

"..."

"You were scared!"

"...shut up..."

They searched the wall on the far side of the room, where the exit was supposed to be. All the while the monstrosities brought all manor of hell upon Pain's barrier. Two hairline cracks, perfectly straight, perfectly parallel to each other, stood about ten feet apart. With pressure between them, the wall opened like a garage door, the team rushed inside as the barrier fell.

"We're through." Slate spoke over his radio, but TArrow didn't respond. Slowly they began to investigate their surroundings. It was a large room; cluttered with random objects, from books to papers and all other quest items. Over the door were the words:

IN GAME STORAGE ROOM 3

"Do you think the computer had anything to do with the door?" Slate asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Doubt it," Morris couldn't pass up the opportunity to make fun of him, "it was probably just a lure, to keep people from finding the door."

Bethany stood at a table, reading through a pile of papers. Written on each was a clue of where to find the next, all leading to a treasure that sat beside the table. "Why are they kept in game?" She asked.

"The game's system is protected by a multi layered firewall, and probably other security systems as well. It would be easier to transport something from one point of the game to another, than to upload it through all the security procedures."

They continued through, enjoying reading complete storylines at one time. Near the center of the room, on one side, sat a door. It didn't look locked except for a hand scanner on the wall beside it. But for a wooden door, it was much stronger than it looked, as bullets didn't even leave a mark. The team converged on the area in response to the gunfire, they all looked to Pain, inaudibly asking the same question. He walked toward the door, laying his hand on its surface. Under his breath he spoke, "I Reject," and a cold wind surged through the room. As the rendering of his animation faltered, the door slowly froze, and cracking like glass, it shattered to dust. They entered slowly and cautiously, as the room was dark. It was very large, with a low ceiling, rows and rows of books ran all the way to the back, more books than any library, and all of them concerning law. As most of the team had no interest in law, Morris found himself alone in his enthusiasm, flipping through many of the writings. Most of the other members of Sorrow were bored silly, but each picked through the shelves. "Why would they have these things?" They asked each other. "I think you found what you were looking for, Morris." They talked to him, but he wasn't listing, he was too deep in his reading. The writings were close to the same as the ones he had studied in the GGS, and as he flipped through the pages, Ezra approached him. "I left the Authorities before you did," he said, "do you recognize any of these ordinances?" He held in his hand a book, opened to a description of crimes. The laws were the same for the most part, but the punishments were completely different than anything they had seen before. Instead of years and fines, there were cycles, followed by codes, implying how many cycles of each code a particular crime wrought. Lacking understanding of what they were reading, they flipped through the pages to the back cover, and on each back cover of each book they removed from the shelves, sat the same thing, the FourTech emblem.

"This doesn't belong here," they commented to each other, "secrets we can expose as evidence against them in court." They flipped as many pages in front of the helmet cameras as they thought necessary, and then flipped through some more.

The team made their way back through the rooms, to the large door that led to the computer room. "However this goes," Slate didn't have any inspirational words to say, "this is going to hurt," he finished as they readied their weapons and pushed open the door. The computer room had reset, it was dark again, as serene as an empty church, and as quiet as a graveyard. Even though there was no movement, they all knew that the nests were still there, and that the Psychopaths were still waiting. Fear crept with them as they snuck across the room, the screams and sick sounds resonated with them and every footfall sent chills down their spines. The jitters stayed with them as they rode the elevator, and exited the building. Sorrow made their way to the SDB, jumping at every shadow, and ducking at every sound, as fear has a way of staying with you, making you think that you see it everywhere, and in every shadow.

Slate followed behind his team, and watched them. Morris and Ezra handled themselves like military men, staying close to a wall at all times, and keeping their weapons at the ready. Pain walked at a fast pace, staring at his toes through his boots; King walked like he didn't have a care in the world, but at the drop of a pin he would jump, and fumble with his gun, dropping it on many occasions. As he watched them, his eyes fell upon Kitten, walking at a slow pace, and nervously tapping her fingers on the butts of her twin guns. Slate watched her walking, and thought; when he first spent the night with her, he saw the ways that she and Trixy were alike. But now, as he watched her, he saw the differences, and was attracted to them, and to her. As the team entered the SDB he called out to her, she turned and waited for him to approach. The look on her face said she thought she was in trouble. "Yea...?" she spoke inquisitively.

"Kitten, over the past weeks I've grown to really like you."

"Hopefully, you've been spending quite a few nights with me, it would have been awkward if you didn't like me..."

"I love you Bronze, and I want to pursue a relationship with you."

She smiled in a shy way, "I'm cool with that..."

"I'm glad," leaning close, he kissed her on the cheek, and the two of them entered, and logged out.

.

Kitten stretched after rising from her chair, walking past him as she headed for the elevator. "Will you be coming by tonight?" She asked bashfully.

"Yea," he replied, "just have some stuff to do first."

Probably the longest it ever took him to clean the chair, it's a real easy job, as they never really get dirty. Just some dust, nothing some Dust-Away and a paper towel cant handle. But it took forever, he wasn't feeling it, perhaps it was just an excuse to do some real thinking, either way he was done before reaching his conclusion. Slate rose from his work, and slowly made his way out of the building. Before he left, he stopped by the lockers, which were hardly ever used. He opened a particular one, nothing but dust and a bottle of Sherry, he removed it and closed the locker; some of the T from the name had survived the razor that scratched the rest off. Slate left the building, but he didn't cross the street to the hotel, instead he took the little path to the secluded garden, popping the cork, he knelt beside the stone.

"Hey Trix, it's been some time since I last visited. So, um... how's the weather up there? Is it cold? You always liked the cold. Well until it was too cold, than you would hog the blankets... I never told you why I buried you here; it's not completely because of our walk here, or the missed proposal. It was just the stupidest thought that popped in my head when we were standing here, I thought 'I'd like to be buried here,' I don't know why, and no, it wasn't your talking."

He sat alone in silence for a while, trying to think of something to say...

"I don't know why I came, I just figured... well, I'm not coming back anymore. I've said that I've moved on so many times, that now that I have moved on, I don't know if I really have or if I just want to...

.

That young man, who he barely remembers much less recognizes. Sat, alone in the 'Big H' lobby, shades on his face, newspaper in his hand and on his lap, not because he particularly wanted to read the beauty tips that were randomly on the paper in his face. But for the paper over his lap that covered the loaded gun.

"You're Jason, right?"

"...Who's askin'."

...Real mysterious, real macho...

"I wanted to get to know you, since you're on my team and all."

"You're wasting your time."

"I really like your sister, I hope we will become good friends."

"She's old enough to make her own decisions."

...A good friend stays through the awkward silences, but a great friend interrupts them...

"Will you put down the paper?"

"Don't bother being friendly, I'm not staying, she's free to if she wants."

...Good women usually have horrible taste in men...

"Let's make a deal, if you fall in love with me, will you stay?"

...But would I have it any other way...?

"What kind of deal is that?"

"I don't know, just felt like saying it."

...Maybe that's what saves us...

"And you always do just what you feel?"

"It has worked for me so far, and it's going to work now."

...I know that it saved me...

"You know that for certain?"

"I more than know it, I believe it with all my heart."

.

"I don't think I can possibly put into words just how stupid you were sometimes Trix, but you were right, it did work... I'm doing well... have taken your place, as leader, your replacement can be a jerk sometimes, but nobody else would I rather have at my back, and if I ever have to fight again, I know he would have my back. You would have liked him... Kitten and I, have really grown, we're together now, it feels kinda strange to tell you this. I hope you're happy for us... Kitten, she's my world, she owns my heart, but there is still that little piece, that fracture, that crumb... of my heart, that still belongs to you. And no matter what I try, I can't shake it. I guess in some ways, I never will get over you...

.

"Is this not the most beautiful little secluded garden you've ever seen?"

"I guess."

She stopped short, giving him an exasperated look, "You guess? It's gorgeous!"

He smiled as she took a running back flip off the tree.

"When did you find this?" He asked.

"Oh, I um, woke up here... few days ago..."

"Were you at the bar again Trix?"

"Who cares, this place is awesome! We should have a picnic!"

"Why do you keep going there?"

"Do we have to do this now? We can have boring old talks any time of the week, but this! Why cant you just be here with me?"

"I care about you and don't want to see you like this."

She fearless closed the space between them, placing two fingers over his mouth, wrapping her arm around his back she kissed her fingers, "Just be with me..."

"...If I could just help you-."

"I have your love, what more could I ask of you?"

"Whatever you ask Trix, it's already yours...

.

"You never really were open with me, you never told me, was it pride, arrogance, or did you think you were stronger than me and that I couldn't help you. Either way Trix you were a damn fool, trying to carry all the pain and you went and broke my heart. I keep asking myself, and just cant find the answer; I knew all of your problems, so why did I still love you? The only thing I can come up with is that you were amazing, and so were we... I knew, that every day that I woke up, with you lying naked beside me, I would wake, amazed, and I would see something, that... changed me, when I looked in your eyes, your smile, and your frazzled hair. You amazed me Trixy, every damn day...

.

...After battle, as the bodies lay broken, strewn on the floor. He came close to her, gently caressing her form, softly kissing her neck.

"Stop," she would laugh, "I still have blood on me!"

"You look damn good in anything."

"Eww, that's gross Jason."

"Oh common, it's not real."

On the roof of the 'Big H,' she would lie on her back, and he beside her, wrapping her tightly in embrace, they would kiss. Her lips felt like felt and silken lingerie, her tongue like sweet Danish and smooth as iced pastry, as he caressed her form.

He would sit on his bed, trying to read when she felt playful. She danced around his room, frisky as a fox yet innocent as a dove. Wild as a hyena yet magnificent as an eagle. On the bed, on her knees, she would unbutton her blouse, revealing her figure. Her body was beautiful, but he could scarcely remove his gaze from her eyes... She never turned out the lights... her breath in his ear... as he made love to her...

.

"NO! I don't want to dream of you, I don't want to go back with the memories... Kitten asked me the other day, she asked, what if you were right? About the other world... I didn't answer, how could I? To be honest Trixy, I'm glad you're dead, what could I possibly say to you after what you said to me? If you love me let me go? What the hell Trix? Did you even care? I forgave you for the team, for them. I forgave you for leaving us, abandoning us, and for breaking my heart... for pretending all that time, that you loved me... But Trixy I will never forgive you for what you said to me. I hate you Trixy, and Bronze is a better woman than you could have ever been ...

.

"Don't do it."

"..."

"Trix?"

"I'm going."

"Don't."

"I'm going to talk to her."

"That reed? Dressed in black, too much makeup, that stupid spiked bracelet."

"..."

"She's not worth it."

"We're all worth it, Slate."

"What would you say? She's drinking like it's over, don't give her false hope Trix."

"It's never false, Slate."

"She's done, you can see that from here! Let her rest in peace, how could you help her, you know nothing about her. You cant help her, so don't do it."

"I know hurt, and does that not unite us all? If I can't help her... than I cant help myself."

"Three times I've tried, maybe you're right."

"If I can help her, I will."

"You amaze me Trixy."

She rose from her seat at their table, "when I return, I will get you to tell me what happened that made you loose your hope in humanity."

"I haven't had hope since I killed a fat dog."

"I... have no idea what you say sometimes."

"Do I amaze you, Trix?"

"More than you know...

.

"... ... Thank you Trix, I never thanked you for that, how the hell? Could you save all of us, but not yourself. Were you waiting? Trix... Were you waiting for someone to save you at a bar? Is that why you could help us all, why you looked to be at such ease? Were you relaxing at rock bottom, were you waiting for me? ...Trix? ...I'm sorry...

Damn you Trixy, I have had this... retching anger for you, for so long. Part of me hates you, but... I miss you. Not as my lover, because you were so much more than just my lover... I miss you, as my friend. I could tell you anything, and you would react immediately, I never had to worry about our relationship falling apart over the months because of something I said... I learned so much about you, I could quote for hours about you, from your favorite foods, to your... fifty eight, was too cold for you. You liked most insects except roaches. You loved butterflies, but hated caterpillars. You loved music but hated jazz, and you dressed in my favorite color, even though you didn't particularly like it, I never asked you, you just went out of your way... You left not to go to your new world, but to get out of this one. You would have gone eventually, even if you had never thought of another one to go to. I learned you because I thought that you would be mine forever... I wanted nothing more than for you to be mine... one of the reasons that I didn't follow you, maybe even the only reason... the reason that I came here tonight... I was part of the world that you were running away from, and if I... couldn't keep you here, than I wouldn't be able to keep you there either, and I would have lost you anyway...

You know, everyone else has said goodbye to you. But you only said goodbye to me... and I never said it back... I came here tonight to do so, so here goes. Goodbye Trixy... eternal love of a piece of my heart... inspire the angels you crazy bitch."

Slate stood, and walked... stumbled away. He had said what he wanted to say, and more, maybe too much but she would never tell. As he left, he couldn't help but remember her, and the memories washed over him like a frozen, yet soothing flood. All of them, from their fights, their flames, their love, and their passion. And with the reminiscence, he found his way home...

.

"Sometimes, I want to stay here forever, and never leave."

"Your body would die."

"I know, but isn't that the best way to go? In a beautiful world, perfectly healthy, running through long grass as fast as you can, forever because you never grow weary... And then, at the end of an age, to simply cease to exist..."

"That is a very dark thought Trix."

"My heart is black, I thought you knew that."

He wrapped her in a hug, kissing her lips.

"Than why does its radiance blind me?" ...

.

Morris had been up most of the night; he couldn't sleep, to many questions, not enough facts. And it all came down to the central point, of Anne, if she had only talked to someone. The more he thought about it, the less excuses he could find. She was his sister, it might have been the guilt, but maybe he should have been a better brother. Guilty or not either way she had the answers, and so he decided to visit her. For some reason he drove at the speed minimum, perhaps it was hesitation.

Morris arrived at the hospital, entering her room. Approaching the brain scan, he hacked into the system, disabling the computer memory and recording device, as he worked he turned to her.

"I know you know what I'm doing."

No reply came to the screen.

"I know you're being grilled extensively about everything, but I want you to know that I didn't talk. I didn't say anything more than you asked me to... but I need to know, I need to know what you know."

Moments passed before the words 'if you know,' appeared on the screen. It paused for a second, and the 'o' changed to an 'e'. The screen cleared and the word 'half' flashed across in all capital letters, before being replaced with the words 'the truth.' The words sat on the screen for almost a minuet, then two words slowly typed across the monitor, 'you would.' The other machinery in the room began to lament, the heart monitor showed her heart beat increasing at an alarming rate, the nurse and two doctors raced into the room, ushering Morris out with barely a word.

Finding himself outside of the room, with the shades drawn, Morris turned to leave. As he approached the end of the hall, the nurse shouted after him, approaching him in anger. He turned to answer and she yelled.

"What did you ask her?"

"When?"

"What were you talking about."

"I don't-."

"Her reply."

"I didn't say-."

"Why does it say that on the screen?"

Morris stopped, when he left the room, the only thing written on the screen was the word 'would,' slowly he asked the nurse.

"What does it say...?"

And she replied, "...Join me...."

.

Morris had been deeply confused ever since his last conversation with Anne, and he had found no relief. He quickly left the hospital, flipping out his phone; he looked to the numbers trying to decide who would not believe him the least. As he held it in his hands, it rang, Bethany was calling him, he answered.

"Bethany, this is worse than-."

"It's over."

"What did you say?"

"FourTech just made a huge mistake. When we stepped up our search, it scared them and they began to panic, trying to bury secrets. We intercepted some coded transmissions, the first thing we translated was The Cathedral, and the more we get, the more we know that this is important. We just got the location, in new Australia, the Great Victoria Desert. This is the break we need; we launch in an hour, be here."

It took him a while to get back, as he took time trying to sort everything out. Things were moving too fast, and there was the sinking suspicion that something was wrong. Either way, if there was a long and breath-taking speech before the mission launch, he missed it. When he arrived, most everyone was in their chairs, Morris received the rendezvous location, and logged in.

As he exited the dressing room, he found not only Sorrow there, nor all of the Rage Quiver, but all members of all three Quivers. One hundred and forty eight souls present, the Militem, the Legatus, the Medics, and the four Dux.

"What took you so long," Bethany approached him, "you missed the speech."

"Sorry, I had some distractions."

"Don't worry about it, it wasn't that good. This is supposed to be big, whatever the Cathedral is, FourTech does not want us to find it."

"If it is in New Australia, than why are we in West Coast Central America."

"Because New Australia doesn't have any SDBs, so we found another way to get there."

"How is that?"

"We're going to fly!"

Bethany was interrupted as the last person logged in, Pain walked into the group and the Dux gave the order to move out.

"We're headed to the History of Flight Museum," Dux Timmy re-caped the plan as they walked, "where we're going to find us a plane, fix it up, and go to New Australia!"

Morris whispered to Bethany, "We're going to build a plane?"

"Yes!" She was exited, "doesn't that sound awesome?"

"Do the laws of flight exist here?"

"Well, we have physics, and we have gravity... why not?"

"Do we at least have a plan B?"

"We don't grow tired in game, so plan B is to swim. But that will take a while, and we're not quite sure that they even made the middle of the ocean."

"This is a horrible plan."

"Don't be that way, I helped come up with it."

The SWD armada made its way to the large building, containing a huge show floor in its center, with three planes. The first was an old plane, and had been all but completely destroyed over the games storyline, it appeared as though a team of survivors had held up in it, and were horrifically overwhelmed when the Sinners broke their way in. It was useless and completely impossible to repair. The second plane... might not have even been a plane, the remaining junk pile could have come from anything and it was complete speculation that it was a plane at some point in the past. The third one was one of the oldest models, an Airbus A400M, it looked worn, and broken, but still in one piece.

"And here is our ride!" A little guy from Luke's Quiver stepped forward.

"He was named Chief Engineer," Bethany explained, as the Chief Engineer continued, "this here Airbus A400M was one of the most amazing designs of over two hundred years ago, with a wing span of forty two meters, and a weight of over seventy six tons. Only a brilliant engineer could design something that heavy to fly, and whoever made up those propellers was a genius. It can carry up to thirty-seven tons, and can fly nearly two thousand miles with a max payload. Which will easily get us there, and back, safe and sound."

He finished his speech expecting applauds, but the plane was old, complaints and murmurs sounded aloud. Everyone looked to the Dux, hoping that this insane plan would be shot down. But all four Dux bought the pitch, hook line and sinker, grinning like little kids, they supported it all the way. One by one the SWD armada sluggishly accepted their fate and helped with the repairs, cannibalizing the other two aircraft to strengthen the wings and repair the engines, it was apparent that none of them really knew a thing about flight or making a plane whatsoever.

After what felt like years of work, everyone stepped back to view their labor, they had taken an amazing historical aircraft and turned it into a ghetto, make shift, tin can, mixed with a dream and a prayer that just might get off the ground.

The Chief Engineer surveyed his creation.

"Well, it's finally done! ... Does anybody know how to fly it?"

Silence abounded till Morris stepped forward.

"I think I can fly it sir."

"...Are you sure?"

"I've flown before, never anything this old though..."

Morris sat in the cockpit as though in a new world, with the Chief Engineer beside him. "So... where is the second control stick?"

"The two control sticks weren't implemented until about a fifty years later."

As everyone pilled onboard, Slate and some of the other Legatus' stood beside the ramp, looking for stragglers, he saw Pain leaning on a motorcycle, watching. Slate ran over to him, asking him why he wasn't boarding.

"I'm not going sir."

"Sir? Wow... that's new."

"..."

"Alright, whatever you have to do, hope it goes well. See you after the mission, and good luck."

Slate turned back to the plane as Pain looked at the ground.

"I'm not coming back sir."

"...Why not?"

"My mission, its... kinda one way."

Slate removed his helmet, throwing it to the side.

"Why, what are you doing?"

"I can't say, sir."

"Than I wont pry..."

They were both silent, as Pain extended his hand.

"It's, been an honor, Slate."

Taking his hand, Slate replied, "...Likewise."

He walked away as the bike engine roared. As he boarded the plane he was met by a multitude of questions, 'where is he going,' 'who is that,' 'were did he get that bike.' he just walked by and left them unanswered. Finding his way to the cockpit he saw Morris and the Chief Engineer fighting about how to take off, Morris thought to go full speed ahead, and pull up sharply while the Chief Engineer had more benevolent means of gaining air.

"You SLOWY move down the runway, and let the increasing lift force pick up the plane, and then, after you're off the ground, then you SLOWLY increase speed."

"Got it, full speed ahead!"

"MORRIS!"

"It's an expression!"

Morris told Slate to go warn the passengers to prepare for take off, but the warning was too late, as before Slate could say a word, a massive sound, and painful striking of metal, not to mention the epileptic shaking, as the plane flew down the runway with demon spanking speed.

"SLOWLY SLOWLY SLOWLY!" The Chief Engineer screamed, kicking at imaginary brakes, as Morris worked the engines. Leaving the cockpit the Chief Engineer locked himself in the bathroom, to find the closest thing to a quiet place to pray. Slate crawled into the cockpit, and into the co-pilot's seat.

"Why is it shaking so much!" He yelled over the noise.

"There's too much drag!" Morris yelled back, "The wheels are really dragging us down! Go see if you can do anything about it!"

Slate yelled his confirmation, and crawled back out, recruiting the help of a few Militem he made his way deeper into the plane, one of his men approached him.

"So what are we doing down here?"

"The wheels are messing up the flight plan, we wont get anywhere near our destination if we don't do something about them."

"Yes sir! So what are we going to do?"

"We're going to disconnect them, start in the front, and work our way back!"

"Yes sir!"

Morris was fighting hard to keep it in the air, as Slate crawled back into his seat.

"Did that help!"

"Don't know what you did, but it did wonders for me!"

"Good to hear, anything else you need!"

As they yelled at each other, Dux Timmy crawled into the cockpit.

"You boy's all good in here?" He yelled.

"Yes sir!" They yelled in unison.

He looked out of the windshield, "Are the engines supposed to be burning like that? There on fire!"

"Yes sir! I believe that's how engines work sir!"

"Your dashboard says that the there's no coolant in them!"

"Yes sir! You put the coolant into the engine after the flight, we don't want cool engines in the air."

"...You're a pilot right?"

"Yes sir!"

"What did you fly?"

"Space craft mostly sir! But the basics should be the same!"

Bethany crept into the cockpit, "not to interrupt you guys, but the rest of us are somewhat concerned..."

"Just talk to them," Morris replied, "tell them that I landed a space transport while participating in a firefight onboard."

"And everything ended fine, right?"

"You could say that!"

Bethany left to tell the others as Morris continued, "you'd be wrong, but you could say it."

Many hours, of waiting, fearing, praying, and clenching, until they were nearing the destination, Morris prepared to land: "OK! Where are the VTOL controls?"

Slate answered over the roaring engines:

"Um... it doesn't have VTOL!"

"Reverse thrusters?"

"Nope!"

"What does this thing have than?"

"It's got wheels!"

"How the hell am I supposed to land with wheels?"

"I don't know I'm not the pilot! Maybe, like... crash and roll...?"

"OK! OK, where are the wheels?"

"The first pair is on the runway, disconnected after takeoff!"

"Alright, now were getting somewhere! Where's the second pair?"

Slate left the cockpit and yelled at the Chief Engineer who answered in a light voice, Morris could barely hear what he said but it sounded bad.

"Did he just say what I think he said?"

"Um... That is affirmative..."

"There is no second pair of wheels?"

"...Um... that would seem to be the case..."

The Chief Engineer busted into the cockpit, "what is this joke about first and second pairs of wheels?"

"Ask Slate!"

"Slate what the hell did you do with the wheels?"

"We ejected them! We had to get rid of them somehow, they were slowing down the plane!"

"You're supposed to pull them in! One pair of wheels, ONE PAIR! They go in and out! IN and OUT! How are you not getting this?!"

"Don't blame me! This is your fault, why'd you have to grab this ancient ass plane for? You couldn't grab something from the modern era?"

"There wasn't anything from the modern era you jackass!"

"These planes haven't been flown for over a hundred years, and you just expect us to know how to fly one?"

"Morris said he could fly a plane!"

"I bet Morris could fly a REAL plane! But not some ancient ass grand papa plane! Most of us thought these things were fictional!"

The engineer grabbed fervently on Morris's shoulders, "please tell me you have a plan to land this thing."

"...The plan is to slam the nose toward the ground, pull up real hard right before impact and kinda... Bounce...!"

Dux Timmy entered the cockpit as the engineer began beating his head against the nearest hard surface.

"The rest of us are getting really worried, what's with all the commotion?"

Near tears, the engineer turned to him, "We're in a bad place Dux sir."

"Can you land this or what, Legatus?"

"Sir, I am a beast with VTOL, and I am absolutely amazing with reverse thrusters. I bet I can even do some stuff with wheels. But with this sir? I can't do a damn thing!"

"Than what do you suggest Legatus Taylor?"

"I recommend the use of the word GERONIMO! You'll have better luck figuring something out on the way down!"

The four of them put their heads together, Morris, Slate and Dux Timmy throwing suggestions at top speed, and the chief engineer answering each one with the same phrase, "We will all die!" Until a bright idea popped into the Dux head.

Bethany stood in front of all three Quivers, presenting a speech that she had not enough time to prepare:

"It's a little rough, but don't worry! We have a very experienced pilot at the helm; he has flown... many times before... I think... And remember that our very own, extremely... optimistic Slate is copilot! So if anybody can land us safely-"

She was interrupted as Slate emerged from the cockpit, "excuse me, but does anyone know how to skid an airplane?"

Returning to the cockpit Slate repeated to Morris, "That's a negative, nobody knows, and they're not too thrilled with the plan."

"It can't be that much harder than skidding with a car... right?"

"Well... it might be a little different..."

"I'm going for it!" Morris repositioned the plane into a forward dive; with a flick of his hand he activated the Seatbelt light in the cabin. Many loud screams came from the back, as the Chief Engineer dove for the switch.

"Turn off that light!"

"Why? What's with all the screaming?"

"We didn't install the seat belts!" He yelled, turning to Slate, "We weren't supposed to be landing without wheels!"

The plane descended with horrendous noise, as Morris attempted a truly advanced aerial technique, skidding an airplane. He pointed the nose down and the plane dove like a hungry buzzard. As it neared the ground, he pulled a hard left, the back rudders ripped off from the power of the air current, and the tail section threatened to detach. The left wing made dirt contact first, disintegrating and splintering to dust and fragmentation. The nose followed, making contact at an angle, and the direction of the left turn drove the body into the ground. The whole plane skidded counter clockwise a complete cycle before the right wing completely broke off and it rolled to a stop, smoking and smoldering, broken apart. There were few deaths; Dux Brianna of Luke's Quiver was pierced through by a piece of metal while commanding the troops to stay down. One of the two Dux of Grave's Quiver, Dux Jefferson, while giving orders to hold on tight, was thrown through a window by the surging wind. Twelve deaths in total were counted as the survivors crawled away.

.

Dux Timmy stood away from the debris of the ancient aircraft, nursing his arm while he surveyed the horizon. Far in the distance stood the Cathedral in all its glory, four towers rose over the horizon, the central two reached higher than the others, scraping the sky at a thousand feet. The arching doors of the front entrance stood two stories high on their pedestal, a patio atop a flight of stairs that tapered down to an entrance at the bottom of twelve yards high and ten wide.

While deaths were few, there were many wounded, the improved healing did wonders in vehicular collision scenarios. The medics were hard pressed to give care to all their patients. Dux Timmy allowed rest for a few minuets before giving the order to advance. It wasn't an awe-inspiring sight to see the one hundred and thirty something hobbling and wobbling across the desert sand. As they walked along Duxs Timmy and Sally concocted a stratagem, and prepared a game plan. Rage's Quiver would secure the perimeter, while Luke and Grave's Quivers would clear and search the inside of the Cathedral. For the usual run and gun Dux, this was an elaborate plan, and they marched with pride and dignity.

.

From three clicks away the Cathedral looked regal and opulent, but as they grew closer they saw it was in states of decay. It was old, and in decline, holding the appearance of death and the bringers of. First and TArrow rushed to fortify the perimeter, taking the right and left sides of the structure. FArrow searched for a path to higher ground, to provide sniper cover and observation for the rest of the armada. Dux Sally led the two Quivers in as Dux Timmy and Sorrow sat on the front steps and waited for their enemies.

"Where could they be?" Dux Timmy wasn't known for his patients, "they should have been here before us."

Dux Sally called to him over the radio, informing him of something he needed to see. Dux Timmy ascended the rest of the stairs into the building, followed by Slate and Kitten. As mentioned the outside of the Cathedral embodied death itself, but the inside... gold plated pillars, jewels imbedded into the walls, precious stones in the silver tiles of the floor and velvet curtains hanging throughout. A religious man might even assume it to be an impression of King Solomon's Temple of old. Dux Timmy walked, full of the wonder and splendor of the sight, through the rooms, and corridors to the sanctuary itself. Vast in size, and grand in power, the prodigious room dwarfed by the marvelous and miraculous stained glass, floor to ceiling behind the pulpit, which glowed and shimmer with an angelic blue light. Three large steps led to the stage, chiseled from gold inlayed marble, gorgeous to behold, four words carved in exquisite Roman font:

DEUS MISERERE ANIMAE TUAE

The Dux and the others were filled with the glory of the sanctuary, and could scarcely bring themselves to ask.

"Do any of you recognize the language?"

The general consensus was Latin, but none of them spoke it, they found it odd that an English speaking company like FourTech would have this language in this place.

"The GGS uses Latin as a primary language," someone pointed out, "Morris might know it."

He was summoned immediately, and he entered with a dignified stride.

"So this is a Church?" He said as he neared the steps.

"What makes you think that?"

"Dues, means God, one God, God is... one of those."

"What about the rest of it?"

"By itself, 'miserere' means to have, or has, but next to Dues, I think it means merciful. I think the translation is that 'God is merciful, to the soul... your soul, I forgot the 'tuae'..."

The room grew silent as the group realized what the four words on the top step meant...

"May God have mercy on your soul..."

"This isn't a church is it?" Kitten asked the question on everyone's mind.

"No," Timmy removed his sidearm, firing a bullet through the glowing painted glass, and as it shattered and fell, the group saw to their horror, from floor to ceiling, a perfectly symmetrical Programming Error. "This is an execution chamber, 'Hell's Jurisdiction' isn't a game at all, it is a man made hell itself. And all of those tortures that were made up, the Gluttons and Thieves, punishment for ones sins, climaxing with capital punishment."

As the group argued over the possibility of a man made hell, the Dux faced the awful truth, they didn't find this place by luck, to find your enemies entire forces gathered in one place, with their back to certain death... was every general's wet dream. This was most defiantly an ambush, he could smell it. A Militem burst his way into the room, yelling uncontrollably about a coming doom, a tidal wave, as he so eloquently put it. And the Dux, with infrangible nerve, strode through the doors, issuing orders to the Legatus of 'ready the troops,' 'prepare the line,' and 'prepare for battle.' The Militem sped to their positions in preparing a defense against what looked like a shadow on the horizon, thorough the scope; the snipers could make out Sinners, Murderers, and Cannibals, Thieves and Gluttons abounded. Above them all, flying on their dragon wings, the demons approached, and walking before the multitude, Golgotha strode with pride, and conceit, he wore no armor, just kingly robes, held no weapon save the hordes of monsters that obeyed by the motion of his hand. The snipers looked at his face and shook, unlike the generic, horse like features of the Demons, Golgotha looked more human. Bigger, stronger, with eyes that damned to hell, cuts and scars covered his face and arms with one straight down, reaching from the top of his head to the between his eyes, deep to his scull itself, and it bulged out, ever so slightly. Four wings stretched from his back, devouring the glory, feeding off the resonating fear.

Timmy knew, that even with Grave's Quiver joining them in defense, they could never prepare enough, but all they had to do was hold long enough for Luke's Quiver to search the Cathedral, but how long could that take? One of the snipers looked to Timmy, "They're coming at a slow walk, why aren't they rushing?"

He smiled, "Executioner's march, this is their big play, their check mate, and they're doing this formally."

The tidal wave approached closer and closer, and the defensive line grew anxious.

"They're closing in sir, what should we do?"

"Hold fire... hold fire."

The nervous twitches increased, and the restless trembles intensified.

"Hold your fire!" Dux Timmy yelled but his voice cracked. One of the Legatus on the far side of the defensive line misheard, repeating what he thought the order was.

" OPEN FIRE!" One Arrow opened full blast while random guns sounded from parts of the line, the Dux and the other Legatus' tried as they might to silence the uprising but were too late, as the bullets tore through the opposing line, Golgotha raised his hand, screaming his inaudible order, and the charge began.

"Open fire." Every gun exploded forth, sending an unrighteous amount of led into the overwhelming horde, the snipers silently backed away as their single shot weapons were of no use against the uncountable masses, under orders they took aim for the demons.

Slate, Morris, and Bruce, stood on the top of the stairs, their duty to defend the small entrance that all enmity would be channeled toward. He told Bruce to stand atop the stairs and cover, as he and Morris would attempt to hold on the bottom.

"This is going to be impossible." Slate stated the uncomfortable truth beneath his breath.

"I don't do opera," Morris began a tasteless joke concerning Slate and Trixy, "but I can carry a tune."

"That is a... no ... hell no." Slate left down the stairs, trying to clear the thought from his mind, as Bruce leaned to Morris.

"You do know that 'singing' that Slate and Trix did in private was just a way of saying sex right?"

"...oops..."

Morris ran down the stairs after Slate.

"Wait up!"

"Yea, you defend that side way over there."

"I didn't know!"

"WAY, over there."

"I swear I didn't know, you wont hold this against me will you?"

"Forever."

"Oh common! I didn't have any idea!"

"You have the eyes of a particularly disabled bat."

"All I knew was that you did it alone, in practice, for a combat technique. Forgive me if romancing your girlfriend didn't pop into my mind."

"And her fire, which is fuelled by passion, increased exponentially, what did you think we were doing? Having a political debate?"

"Its not like everybody knew!"

"Everybody!"

"Your sister? Her dad?"

"EV-RY-BO-DY!"

"...I said I was sorry..."

The tidal wave of opposition approached and the two of them stood ready side by side, shoulder to shoulder, as the Quivers of Grave and Rage threw hell from the patio. Flames enveloped the duo as they prepared for engagement.

Morris and Slate opened fire with everything they had as the Sinners entered into their range, they held the stairwell entrance, but monsters crawled up the scaffolding. Slowly but surly the opposition slithered into the Cathedral through the cracks in the front line. Dux Timmy yelled his orders, sending some of his forces, under the command of Legatus Jewel of First, to head back inside and assist Dux Sally in defense. With their numbers weakened, the line was pushed back, bit by bit, and Golgotha's troops took a footing on the patio.

.

Dux Sally had sent one of her Arrows into the main chamber -which had taken the name of the Execution Stage- to protect the Error. Attempting to keep the rest of the SWD Armada that had been placed under her authority on the task of recording everything in the Cathedral for later revisal. However work was slowing down due to the growing presence of enmity inside the structure. Blindly rushing too and fro, Kitten and Ezra tried to help fight on the ever moving battleground, never in the same place for more than a minuet. All they found, wherever they ran, were the bodies of the Sinners and markings of the capture of their friends. Standing still for one second, they listened to the radios, nothing but screams and gunshots, as so few of the members of the SWD had ever seen actual combat. The Arrow guarding the Error had been hit yet again, all that passed the radio waves was a cry for help, followed by a scream for mercy, Ezra and Kitten bolted to answer. "You're better at mid distance," Kitten told him as she ran ahead, giving him the role of support in the upcoming, hopefully rescue-oriented operation. Making her entrance via one of the few small doors along the side of the Execution Stage, Kitten entered into the midst of engagement. Of the nine members of the Arrow, only four remained, one Demon, one Thief and its henchmen opposing their survival. Kitten entered to the sight of one Militem thrown through, and one on the brink. Increasing her speed to a dead run, she through herself toward the Militem, tackling him out of the way, brining her weapons to bear she unleashed against the foe that had held him, bringing the Thief to the ground. None of them, however, had faced against a Demon, as with tremendous speed, he flew around her, grabbing the young man she had rescued, who was scarcely caching his breath, and threw him into his death. Before she could move he had dashed to another, reaching to grab his victim by the arm, but the Demon had moved to fast, as his hand tore through the young woman's chest, her body died before reaching the Error toward which she had been thrown. The three henchmen Sinners moved to throw the last man into the Error, when Ezra arrived, not having a clean shot, nor the time to dispatch all three, he opened fire, killing the victim before killing the Sinners. And so the scene was set, Kitten standing, with the Error to her back, and Demon in front, Ezra just to the side. Staring all but imminent death in the face, her legs locked giving all they had not to fall or buckle and as her arms rose to rain death to her enemy, the Demon rushed with his wings to propel him. Squeezing both triggers the guns did practically nothing as the Demon closed in, yet right before contact the Demon was thrown out of trajectory. Reeling from a right hand tackle he rose enraged, Ezra quickly picked himself off the floor, checking his weapon, "Run Kit, get out of here."

"I am not leaving you again."

"GO!" He yelled, raising his weapon and firing point blank into the Demon's side. With his perfect speed, the Demon ducked around, missing the brunt of the bullets, and only a light wound to his hip was delivered. Before Ezra could react, he was broadsided, and it was all he could do to block the incoming attack. But the strike had more force than he had prepared his defense for, as he watched his own arm shatter, and the hand of the Demon enter into his lung. Kitten was too far away to act, and had no course of action to take, as she watched her friend pass through. In the brief second that it took for the Demon to turn his gaze to his last remaining opponent, Kitten sized up the fight from every angle, he had her in size, speed, and strength, she couldn't win. Gritting her teeth at the notion retreating without avenging Ezra, she ran, hearing the Demon yell out behind her, "I will catch you!"

An entire chase, a complete escape strategy, summed up in two words, dead end. Of all the hallways or corridors that she could have chosen, was the thought that surfaced her mind as she scanned the wall for hope. The Demon arrived behind her, leaning on the banister between her and her exit, she turned, reloading her guns.

"You've stopped running."

"Not on purpose." not even attempting a smart reply.

"You've chosen to fight, gaudy."

"..." No answer revealed itself, either clever or straightforward.

"You apparently overestimate your strength."

"I know exactly how weak I am," She spoke, franticly searching for a way out, deciding on the only path, straight past her enemy. Finding solace in her risky plan, she added to her previous remark, "I just choose to ignore the fact." Heel to the ground she ran straight for the Demon, catching him slightly by surprise, but his incredible speed matched her move, as he ran toward her. Aiming for the last possible moment, Kitten ducked to one side, low to the floor she barely slipped underneath the stretching wing that had been moved to envelope her, and in the split second that she was behind her foe, she unloaded her weapons, blowing out one knee and disabling the other leg all together. For approximate the next three minuets, Kitten held the triggers, time passed before she noticed that the guns were empty. Without making a single check if the splattered remains were alive, Kitten turned to leave the corridor. And only when she passed back into the main building, and saw three members of a random Arrow run passed with flailing arms, chased by a ravenous horde did she remember the fight that she had so long ago tired of.

.

In the middle of bloodshed Slate slowed to a stop, trying not to think of the ongoing slaughter, Morris could see what he was thinking. "Our role is important Slate."

"They've gotten past us!"

"A few of them! We have to hold out, if we fail, everyone will be overwhelmed, everyone will die."

It was a selfish thought that went through Slate's mind, Kitten was with the group that had gone inside, as was Ezra. A split second decision that would cost lives on either choice. "I have to go." And with that was gone, into the Cathedral, leaving Morris and Bruce to guard alone. Nicolas saw Slate leave, and along with TArrow, he reinforced Morris at the stairwell entrance, but the Sinners had advanced too far. Forcing their way up the steps and onto the patio, they engaged the Quivers directly, quelling the crushing bombardment on the approaching hordes. Morris saw a difference in the style, and attacks of the Sinners, they were not trying to kill, just to maim and break, this was the prequel to a mass execution, he turned to Dux Timmy. "We have to fall back, and guard the Error."

Dux Timmy heard, and tried to make the order, but the Demons had been listening overhead. He caught the arm of the first Demon that attacked; placing the muzzle of his shotgun to the shoulder he blew off the arm. But the Demon retaliated with the other, bringing the Dux to his knees, a second Demon slammed him into the ground, breaking his back and leaving him. Morris led what Militem he could inside the Cathedral attempting to cover the retreat of the rest. But the Demons had other motives, as they captured the fleeing members of the Quivers, tying them down and placing them in rows. Until the time that they had captured the Error, and could commence the executions.

The closed door began to creak and crack as the Sinners pressed against their barricade. But with the overwhelming force of a Demon's rush, the door shattered as glass and hell poured in. Morris, enflamed, stood in the midst, trying with all he had to dam the tide, but as every enemy passed him, their claws tore into his flesh, ripping him, and breaking him, down to the ground.

Three Demons walked into the sanctuary, to secure the Error and begin the executions. Only one body greeted them in the SWD's defense of the Error. Jason Slate stood in front of the Error as though in meditation until the Demons arrived, standing with an exclusive air he looked towards them.

"You're not taking this room, and you're not taking this stage."

The Demons looked at him as a meal, bearing their teeth and flexing their wings. One stretched his fingers, slamming his fist into his hand. One flipped his spear through his hands, while the other drew his sword. Slate remembered one of many things Trixy told him about her fire, closing his eyes, he thought of Kitten, and how he hadn't found her. Fire exploded from him, an old, familiar flame, its color red, and its power and heat intensifying. The Demons stepped backward as the heat alone assailed them, the Demon in the middle, who had thought his fists alone would suffice, quickly grabbed for his sword but was too slow, as Slate's hand struck through, pushing his spine through his back, grabbing hold of the spine as a handle, Slate flung the Demon's body through the Error. The other two fell upon him, and he fought to throw them through as well, the path that so many of his friends had gone.

.

With celestial speed Adam flew across the land, the daunting mission ahead growing closer and ever closer. Going over in his mind the discussion he had with Rage, as onward he flew, throwing his emotions to the passing wind, on and on like the icy glare of Sorrow, like the frozen assassin he was. He had met with Rage before the mission, and Rage had told him of some difficult things, not the least being that Golgotha would be leading the forces against his friends. But Rage hadn't called him into his office to discus Judas, but Leon. Young, aggressive, rash and impetuous, the description of the new leader of FourTech, after his father has been taken down. Leon would no doubt take on the SWD with vigor matching his age, and the power of a rapidly growing company, and no visible future held him as any less of an enemy. He had to be dealt with, Rage had said, he had to be removed.

"Do you know what happens if you kill someone with the Void in game?" Rage had asked him, noting the lack of comprehension.

"I know of possibilities."

"If someone falls through the tear you create, there will be brain damage, and if they fall through slowly enough... there is no doubt it will be lethal."

"What dose this have to do with anything, sir?"

"I'll say it again, we need Leon removed."

Rage went on to say, that the Seven would not understand, as civilians often don't understand the need for lethal force. The mission was one from which he could not return, after he succeeded, he was to go to a particular room in the 'H' where lying on a table would be a side arm, and a suit case of money, which he was to take, along with the blame.

Leon had his office in the game, the best place to keep an eye on his storyline. A sky-scraping tower that was not copied from the world represented Futurek's headquarters. Approaching the top floor,the office of his target, he expected resistance, but there was none, simply the long walk to the office of Leon under the gaming name of Doctor Zymn-Mokko. The eerie clacking of a keyboard was the only sound as he entered into the enormous circular office. A large opening sat in the middle of the room, with a thin banister surrounding, Adam looked down the two story fall to the floors underneath, as he walked toward his target.

"Good evening, sir."

"Adam... White..."

"Than you know why I'm here."

"You... and your pesky 'Second World Division,' what a conceited sounding name that is..."

He approached in silence, the doctor was definitely gripping something under the table; Pain knew it was a weapon.

"Should I offer you some tea?" The doctor asked, "Or would you just say you won't be staying long."

Took the snappy comeback right out of his mouth...

"..."

"The strong and silent approach? I recognize your prudence, now you have no idle threats or promises to take back when I send you crawling away."

"My apologize, the SWD and my superior, has deemed you a narcissistic, villainous, egomaniac who might take offense to being ignored, thus becoming a nuisance and possible annoyance in the future. They have sent me, to 'remove the pawn so they could focus on the King'."

"...P-p-pawn? They see me as... as a pawn?!"

It was the straw that broke the camels back, Leon drew and fired the gun under his desk as Pain ducked into cover.

"I am not a PAWN!" He said as he emptied another magazine into the general direction that Pain had dove, reloading his weapon he reiterated his previous position.

"NOT A PAWN!" He pointed his weapon, and held the trigger, Pain had not recognized the gun, and thus he had waited to see the capabilities of it. As the trigger was held down, the bullets seemed to add together in power, releasing a swelling noise and a bright orange glow. The bullet fired with increased power and force, utterly destroying his cover. He ran from his cover as more bullets rained upon him, leaping over the banister that surrounded the chasm in the middle of the office, letting himself fall down to the floor two stories below. With a quick look around him, he surveyed the random furniture on the floor, from desks, to sofas, to cabinets, to bookcases. Crashing down behind him, Leon cannoned into the floor, tiles broke up and the concrete beneath it hovered as the kinetic energy transferred from him to it. The superbly enhanced combat ability, gained from numerous engagements with Sinners and Gamers alike, leapt to the front of his mind as Pain moved in for a close encounter, greeting Leon's entrance with a left hook to the jaw line. His gun went sliding to the other side of the room, as he rose from the floor into a low crouching position.

"You haven't used your Void yet."

"I need you to be still, and there is too great a risk of the enhanced power killing you outright."

"You think I'll be that easy."

"Just because I'm holding back, doesn't mean I think you're weak."

Leon stood as a combatant still with a lot of fight in him.

"Round two... Master code: Cheat unlock!" A small, door, approximately three feet from top to bottom, appeared beside him, floating in mid air, opening it, Leon reached inside what seemed to be an entrance to its own game program as his arm disappeared as it entered. Pain prepared for the worst, "I deny." As he retracted his hand, he held in it the handle of an automatic mini-gun, not a clip or a belt fed, but when he pulled the trigger, bullets flew. With his speed enhanced from his initial Void ability, Pain ran and ducked the inaccurate spray of bullets from Leon's cheat gun. With a flip of his wrist he drew one of his throwing knives, flinging it into the moving mechanisms of the gun with jamming results. Instead of fixing his gun, Leon just tossed it aside, reaching back into the floating door, which seemed to almost disappear, and follow him around when he wasn't using it. Pain wasn't about to wait for another cheat weapon, he decided to inflict some light wounds on his opponent so he could move in close with his more advanced Void ability that would complete the assassination of the target. He pulled two more knives, throwing them as Leon removed his hand from the cheat box. A dish on the barrel of the gun, he fired and an expanding sound bubble exploded from the weapon, knocking the knives from the air and throwing Pain into the wall, apparently the closer the victim was to the center of the sound wave, the greater the damage delivered. Pain recovered from his flight quickly, and immediately released a knife in his enemies direction, which was knocked away with another shot from the gun, he dove out of the way, receiving just a fraction of the damage as the sound wave blew a hole through the wall, to the outside of the building. Leon was a mid to long range fighter, was Pain's initial report of his engagement, and his sound gun would make short work of the Boomerang, which happened to be Pain's best ranged weapon. With epic speed he ran around, trying to get close, diving in, almost to Leon's feet, Pain drew his larger knives, digging them into the ground as he weathered a near miss. Releasing his knives, he ran in close, with a side hand to the gun and three rapid punches to the gut, Pain reawakened the melee version of the battle, and though Leon tried, up close and personal was not his approach, as he could not use his cheat box due to the risk of Pain getting his fingers in it. Pain's overpowering array of superiority crushed down on Leon, but he had a multitude of tricks up his sleeve. Turning tail, Leon ran to the window, leaping face first into the pane and with a smash, began his fast decent to the ground, with Pain fast on his heels. Reaching into his cheat box, he removed a blue belt, which he quickly placed around himself; pressing the large button in the front he activated his anti gravity belt, slowing his decent. Pain however, not having a cool cheat box or a completely illogical anti gravity belt, plummeted toward the earth. His impact was complete; he struck like a bullet, feet first, crushing into the ground, the collision would have been enough to break him, but with winds passing at such speeds, it's hard to hear words spoken. Large rocks and boulders floated in mid air, not only from the kinetic energy, but also from the frozen air of Pain's Void ability of Rejection. With ease and swagger, he grabbed one of the floating rocks, hurling it with Herculean strength and speed directly at Leon, successfully beginning round three.

.

The war raged on as heroes fell all around, Dux Timmy sat tied with the other 'prisoners' awaiting execution, and Morris lay defeated on the ground, torn to shreds, gasping for air as the enhanced healing ability barely kept him alive, he looked toward his Satan's Tongue, lying at arms reach, slowly he extended his broken arm, reaching for the hilt. Slate had defeated the three Demons, but more monsters kept funneling in, and the few occasional Arrows that came to assist him either died or were driven back. Dux Sally had set up a makeshift base of operations in the left tower, where she held the medics and rushed the wounded. But it was a hard kept secret, and if the Demons found out of its existence, they would direct their entire force to quell it. Never facing true death, or the death of her troops, Dux Sally's command grew weak, as her less loyal Militem fled their posts or killed themselves without informing anyone. Through it all, however, she remembered her mission, commanding her Quiver to hold their helmet cameras to everything that looked interesting in the least. Pacing in front of their mock headquarters, with her full-auto long range rifle in one hand, she gave her orders, trying to invent a strategic solution to a rapidly changing, ceaselessly evolving enemy presence, which threaten to not only kill, but erase her and her troops, leaving nothing but a brain-dead corpse, the pressure was too much already, and the gunfire ringing from down the hall was overkill. Three Militem fell back; yelling and squawking like beheaded chickens about the monsters behind them. Dux Sally raised her rifle alongside one of her Arrows, Cannibals climbed around on the walls, and Murderers engulfed, and drowned their hope, and resolve. They blew past her defenses, thundering into their base, her head was crushed against the ground and her body eaten by the Gluttons. The fighting spirit had left the SWD Armada; some fought, Bethany tried to lead a small group but when her arm was crushed in the grip of a Demon her team fled to their individual dooms. Every Quiver shattered, every Arrow broken, the remaining pockets of resistance were rapidly failing, crushed under the Demons pressure. Hope was fleeting, faith was all that remained. Faith, in a forgiving afterlife...

.

The rock smashed against Leon's face, sending him spiraling into the ground, as with gargantuan appearance, Pain strode toward him.

"You meddling, fiddling, irrevocable still-born." Leon muttered under his breath as he picked himself up from the ground. "You couldn't just enjoy my creation, you couldn't take delight in my art."

"There was too much at stake."

"Curse you Adam! You and your infantile friends! I created something... Spectacular! And you... YOU are pissing on my ART!"

"..."

"MY STORY! the story THAT I created, you couldn't even let it play out, you had to ruin it! You destroyed my work, YOU DESTROYED MY ART!"

"It was just a game."

"Just a what? Come again?" He gasped, "just a freaking GAME?! THIS IS THE CUMULATION OF MY ENTIRE LIFE!"

"Lives were lost, Leon."

"You didn't even allow the grand reveal, the epic plot twist! You thought it was Golgotha all along didn't you? You thought that the revolution of Hell was all his idea! Didn't you! You see, how the game goes, is the players learn about Hell's emergency lock system, that was set up in case there was ever a prison break in hell, the players go on this epic quest to find this place. So epic is this quest, that every and all players will be united together in this attempt; that is close to One Hundred Million People playing worldswide!... Everyone will gather to find this place! Now here is the kicker, this emergency lock system, is in hell, which means, that the players will have to breach hell! That is why I ran adds saying that you wont be able to actually go into hell, I let every one know that Hell wasn't part of the game, Every one would be SO surprised! But then, on the last mission, every person will be at the grand entrance of Hell, standing on the brink, and they will assault the world of the Devil himself. With all their weapons, and their gadgets, they will fight, pressing their way deeper and deeper. They will fight through escaping monsters; they will fight through the Demons of Satan, and the Faithful of Golgotha. And slowly but surly they will be cut down in numbers, until only thousands remain. The area will be specially managed so that enough make it to the Great Black Door! And once beyond, they will see the room, a large room with what looks like a large mass of technology at the end, with a giant lever! Two Demons will guard this lever and all who remain will battle them until both lie dead... THEN! I walk out from a small door on the side, I walk out before the heroes, AND, I, SAY!" He paused, either for effect or to get into character, "You weren't suppose to get this far, you weren't supposed to see this. And they answer however they desire, and I reply, 'It appears that I must handle this personally, and then I transform into Satan! And we have a GLORIOUS BATTLE! And it is revealed that I, Dr. Zymn-Mokko, am Satan! That I had orchestrated the whole thing! Told my faithful Demon Golgotha to fake a rebellion and a prison break, in order to claim my rightful place as GOD of the world that WORSHIPS ME ANYWAY!"

Leon slowly let down his hands, looked to the ground, his breathing heavy...

"An epic reveal," He continued, "Everyone would watch, everyone would see. It would be the biggest reveal in entertainment history... And the worlds would be of one mind, if only for an instant... You have crushed my dream..."

"The cost was too high, you cannot unite a people over broken bodies even for an instant, they would rot, and fester. And your dream would turn into a curse."

Leon stood silent for quite a while, "True..." he flashed a defeated smile, "but that curse is better than what this was when it was given to me... This place, it was never intended to be a game, Pain. But a game was the only way to get the proper funding, and the best place to work out the flaws. In actuality, this place was to bring hell from faith to reality. I was given hell, and I made it a portrait of beauty, I made it winsome and alluring. I used the dredges of human filth to make the world a better place. And I'm Not. Done. Yet." He paused for effect, "Master code: Epic Reveal..." and he changed; long sharp, twisting horns grew from his forehead, his hands and feet burst into talons. His legs and arms grew with power, his height increased. His hair, blacker than the far reaches of space, flowing as though under water. His skin turned a dead grey color as his eyes burned bright as the sun. Six wings broke from his back, like those of the Demons.

"I don't just play Satan in an fun little game, Pain. I... AM... SATAN!"

"Then you shall have your glorious battle."

They charged each other, Leon with his wings and heightened abilities, and Pain with the frozen Void. With inordinate power and overwhelming presence, they clashed together in an illustrious fray.

.

The footfall of a conqueror sounded down the halls as Golgotha made his victory march towards the Execution stage, his left hand held Bethany by the throat, in his right, a chain he had wrapped around the necks of fourteen of the surviving members of the SWD armada. As he pushed open the doors, and entered, a torn and beaten Demon dragged its carcass towards him, in an attempt to flee. Golgotha walked into the large room, observing the bodies of his Demons and his monsters. As at the end of the room, Slate stood, severely wounded, with his knife in one hand and his gun in the other.

"You've done well, but do you retain the strength to defy me?"

Slate lacked the strength to answer.

"So long have I had to live alongside these mosquitoes, biting at me pinching at me. But now, in one fell swoop I have eliminated them, now I can search without interruption, I will attain Immersion Mort-"

"Shut up and die." A weak, yet rebellious reply.

Golgotha raised his hand, "Rise!" he spoke, utilizing the same power that he used to capture his prisoners. Six Faithful, rose from the ground, two of them grabbed hold of Bethany, dragging her to one side of the room, while the others took the chain from Golgotha's hand, dragging it to the other. Golgotha strode forward, rolling his shoulders as the bruised and broken Slate began his attack. Utilizing his flames and speed, Slate dodged and weaved around the chief Demon; landing weak attacks, as it was apparent his knife arm had been broken. Golgotha swung and swiped his arms and wings as Slate stayed a hair's width out of reach. As they fought, Slate's wounds reopened, including a deep tear on his leg, slowing him down. A disadvantage that the heavy weight Golgotha moved in to exploit, as he connected a stunning uppercut.

The blow had taken its toll, and Slate fell to the ground, with nothing left. Golgotha strode toward him, reaching down and taking hold of his neck, he lifted Slate into the air. Hanging limply in his hand, Slate held his gun, "Next time we meet," Slate said in a mocking tone, "Let's skip the pleasantries." With a smile he raised the barrel to the socket of Golgotha's eye, assuming that his opponent was so set on utterly killing him with use of the Error or his secret weapon, that he would hesitate before killing him here. Golgotha did not hesitate, crushing his neck; he dropped his body to the ground.

Bethany was comforted to see her brother safe, and began to increase her attempts at freeing herself from the Faithful that held her. With a raise of his hand Golgotha summoned six more of his Faithful, and commanded them to feed the chain, and the fourteen, into the Error. Bethany fought against her captors, as the chain was drug closer and closer to the demise of her friends, she reached for them, screaming as one by one, despite their fighting, they passed through...

Alone on her knees, the act of breathing itself, a chore. Golgotha walked towards her. "It is now your turn to defy me."

"Just kill me already," she whispered from her knees.

"Aren't you afraid?"

"You're not a Cannibal, hell no."

As she said this, she slowly rose to her feet.

"Are you now going to fight?"

She had already tried, but he exceeded her in strength and in speed, neither her nor her small rebellion had inflicted any worthy wound. As she said, "There is no use."

"You believe it to be hopeless..."

"Upon my demise, you will only gain the anger of my brother, and the wrath of my team. They will avidly seek your destruction, and only be satiated by your end. My friends will avenge me..." she held her arms out, and waited, "I have but to die."

"So be it."

As he walked toward her, she closed her eyes, accepting her fate as his hand closed in on her neck.

"Touch her..."

They froze as a new presence entered the room, armed with nothing but Satan's Tongue Morris walked with daunting stride.

"... If you dare..."

"Morris," she gasped, backing away from Golgotha.

"Didn't you die already?" Golgotha spoke with annoyance.

Morris slowly sauntered farther into the Execution Stage, looking at the bodies of Demons and monsters littering the room, he saw the remains of Slate and a few of the others who had died before entering the Error. Morris drew his blade.

"Judas Swan, you are faced with charges of capital murder. Let the record show that the detective on hand sees no means to a peaceful resolution. In light of the overwhelming evidence against you, and noting the presence of a witness, I Morris Taylor, Murder Detective, employ the right granted me by the Global Governing System, declaring myself judge, jury, and executioner."

He raised his sword, pointing the blade toward Golgotha.

"Judas Swan, you are herby sentenced to death."

Commanding his Faithful to again hold Bethany he faced Morris, rolling his shoulders and flexing his wings. Morris didn't wait for him, exploding into fire, he charged, his speed beyond that of his opponent's defense. But he wasn't going for the kill, as there was only one way to truly die. He spun around, delivering a brutal kick to the throat, and as Golgotha reeled, Morris grabbed hold of his arm, breaking it in multiple places. With a kick to the back of the knee, Golgotha fell, feeling a cold blade rip through two of his wings. Standing from his good leg, he quickly turned with an uppercut of devilish proportions, sending Morris flying halfway to the Error.

As Morris stood, he observed his enemy walking towards him, his leg healing at a rapid pace. Golgotha laughed as he approached, "I keep my difficulty setting at one percent pain, so don't expect to overwhelm me with hurt, it would be too short a fight."

Without response Morris lunged again, flipping Satan's Tongue through his fingers. Golgotha swung his arm, using his claws as weapons, but with a quick parry Morris caught the attack, severing fingers. Morris ducked around his large opponent slicing the tendons near his foot, piercing his sword through his side; he orbited his enemy inflicting deep cuts and tares all around. But as he circled around Golgotha, back to his front, he saw that the severed fingers were halfway healed. Cuts and bruises healed in seconds, Morris read this from his opponent as he prepared to rush again. Launching viciously, Morris threw himself at Golgotha, slamming both feet into his chest. As Golgotha crashed into the ground, he felt the blade tare through his kneecap, twisting back and forth, and decimating his lower leg. 'That will take a few minuets to heal,' he thought to himself, using his wings to propel himself from the ground, and flexing his arms for his assault. But as he stood on his remaining leg, he realized that Morris had ducked again behind him. He turned just in time to dodge an arm-rending blow, but his foundation of one leg could not move as he wanted, and to the ground he fell, catching himself with his arms. He threw himself to his feet, and turned with a blind swipe, he felt the blade cut into his arm, and rip its way through. Feeling no pain, he only observed his tactical loss, with so much damage, he could not keep up with the speed of his offender, he knew this all to well as he felt his spine sever, and all control of his legs left. Golgotha fell again to the ground, using his left wings he reached out against his foe, but Morris ducked beneath, slicing them off. Golgotha felt a hand grab his upper, right wing, and he felt himself being dragged across the floor, towards the Error. None of his appendages answered, except for one arm, "RISE!" He yelled toward the earth, and six of his skeletal Faithful rose before him, grabbing his arm and his leg. Morris let go of the wing as the Faithful lashed out against him, securing their leader and holding him up. Golgotha raised his hands, summoning many more of his Faithful, and directing them to immobilize his foe, but Morris fought them off by the tens. More and more rose from the ground as he kept them at bay, but they were to many, three emerged directly under his feet, tying him to his ground, two attacked from both sides, holding his arms and taking his sword, and three rushed from the front, crushing him to the ground. The Faithful held him, but he struggled, Golgotha knew that they would not hold him for long. He could not fight, his legs still had to heal, his arm had barley begun to re-grow, he had to buy himself more time. Bethany and Morris watched as he dug the claws on his remaining hand, deep into the scar on his forehead, inch by inch he ripped, and the scar revealed its true form, and as closed eyelids do, they opened. A round, white, boggled eye, exposed for the first time in so long, looked around in all directions. The black pupil pulsed with vile essence as the eyeball twirled in its socket, at all things it looked, resting on Bethany. The pupil changed as the eye found its view, wet flashes of light, and dark fires oozed forth, as from the mutating pupil, a dancing glance, likened to an Error, vomited forth from it like a beam, passing through her gut.

The Faithful that held her, dissipated into the ground, she felt her stomach, but there was no mark, no cut or wound at all. But still she felt wrong, she felt dead, Morris watched as she fell on her knees, falling to the ground. Morris struggled the rest of the way from the grasp of the Faithful, scampering free, he ran to her. Picking her up in his arms, he fell to his knees, clutching her to his chest. She was breathing heavily, as her body began to decompose, her rendering flashed and failed, as the code of her body distorted. Her fingers were the first to fall back to wire frames. The density of her torso kept fluctuating, and he could see the rough draft heart beating in her chest. As he held her, the color scheme of her lower body began changing, before going completely grey.

"I don't thing I'm going to make it Morris..." As she spoke her voice flipped through various pitches.

Morris squeezed her tighter, "Just hang on." She tried to touch his face, but as her hand came close to him, it vanished. Her breathing became harder as the shape of her lungs changed to the drawing board interpretation.

"I won't wake up, the connection wont be strong enough to... I'm gone."

He held onto her tighter, "I wont let you go."

"I don't want to die, but I'd never beg... I love you."

She was gone before he understood her last words, decomposed into lines of code and program imaging. In that instance, he remembered words spoken long ago, as he looked at his hands where she lay. He realized that this kind of mental strain could cause permanent, lethal brain damage. Her chances of survival were slim to none. He remembered his fears of the dark as Golgotha began to laugh. And with the rest of his remembrances, he remembered how to overcome them.

Golgotha mocked him, as he had completely healed, "Will you try to avenge her Morris?" He jeered as he summoned more of his Faithful; they came from the ground holding his weapons and his gear. "Those blue flames can't touch me." He said, as they put on his breastplate and his armor, "Nothing can touch me in Hell's Jurisdiction!"

"Here I am all-powerful!" He said grabbing his spear.

"HERE! I am immortal!" Grabbing his sword, and screaming at the top of his roaring voice, as he unsheathed his sword and trusted it to the sky,

"HERE! I AM GOD!"

Golgotha breathed exasperatedly as he watched Morris crawl to a stand from the ground, "you're not God," he said, looking at his sword lying on the ground, "you're not even Satan," he said looking at the ground where Bethany had been, he closed his eyes and ignited his flames, they exploded with more force then ever before, and as he opened his eyes he saw them, burning red in color, "let me introduce you to him." Golgotha saw the flames and felt their heat, sword in one hand and spear in the other he rushed with a yell filled with fury and rage. Morris looked at his oncoming opponent, but he didn't see a fair fight. Golgotha swung with his sword, but Morris stepped out of the path, delivering a quick jab to the ribs of enemy, shattering them all. Golgotha fell to the ground as Morris walked past him, the heat of the red flames burning his skin faster than it could heal. He tried to summon his helpers as his ribs finished healing, but they burned to ash before they climbed complete from the ground. He rose in anger as his ribs recovered, turning to see Morris bend over to pick up his sword from the ground, Golgotha screamed with indignation as he opened again his third eye, but Morris stepped out of the way as the glance struck the dirt. He screamed again and again as he gazed repeatedly toward Morris, and with the exceeding speed of his flames, Morris evaded every glance. Golgotha roared, and rushed with the propulsion of all four wings, their blades clashed together, as Morris parried his attack, Golgotha could not equal Morris' speed, and soon felt the tip pierce his shoulder, Morris mouthed the name of his blade, and as it reacted, the arm was torn off. With his charge ended, Golgotha attempted a retreat, but the flames burned hotter closer to their source, and the heat tore at his eyes. He could barely see, and over the burning of his flesh, he felt the sword again into his upper thigh. Morris declared the name of his sword, and the reaction dislocated the bone, with a flick of his wrist he severed the muscle that held the leg to his body. Morris struck again and again, cutting off three of his wings, the hand of his other arm, and the lower half of his other leg, deep gashes cluttered his torso, and he fell to the ground. The flames disputed as Morris finished his introduction, "the name's Peter," he said, picking up Golgotha's body from the ground, and without mercy or the slightest margin of pity, Morris threw him through the Error.

.

He slowly exited the Cathedral, looking at the bodies on all sides as he sheathed his sword. Kitten sat on the front steps, she had been crying but she'd never show it.

"I couldn't find so many bodies, and I can't bring myself to find out who... I can't do it... I can't except all of this..."

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No," she turned away from him, pretending to be strong, "I want to be alone."

Slowly he removed his side arm from its holster, in his entire career, he had never taken his own life... despite, at various times, the temptation. Timorously he brought it to his mouth, the anxiety of physical pain washed away by the foreboding of Bethany's demise.

As all stories end, he could not help but remember how the last one ended, the last time he let loose, and fought like a man who had lost everything but the memories...

.

...His search had led him to a small, secluded apartment complex, with no real security to speak of, whoever got in his way died ever so quickly. He could tell which rooms were occupied by the few keys missing from behind the front desk, and his first random guess was right. He had seen four men when he entered, shuddering in memory of what he did to them. Two were on the couch, one on a chair, and one in the kitchen, one of the first died with his head hanging limply from his back. The man in the chair received a blow to the stomach and a knee to the groin, Morris had grabbed his jaw, dislocating it, and he had twisted it vertically, shoving it back through his throat, had it killed him? He didn't remember. The second man on the couch had been killed with fists alone, but the man in the kitchen, his mouth forced over the corner of a table, and all of Morris' weight thrown behind it... the part that he hated the most, was that at the time... he enjoyed it.

His real target had been in the back room, and without fear, of either the devil named Peter, or of what he was allowing himself to become, only hatred went with him down the hallway and to the room at the end, where he found... Peter Heeley.

If only to write of an epic battle, the which, the world would never see again. With good and evil locked in Herculean crusade, with that pulsing conclusion of Good, wounded but victorious, thrusting his fist to the heavens with the scream of 'Freedom!'

Head down on the desk... bottle of pills lying empty beside him... words carved into the wood of the desk, 'forgive me.' No.

Morris grabs his corpse, picking it up, and flinging it across the room.

"NO! You can't be dead!"

Firing bullets into it as he approached, picking it up and smashing the face in with his fist.

"I KILL YOU!"

Slamming it to the ground, stomping with his foot, crushing the groin.

"I DESTROY YOU!"

Throwing it into the corner of the desk, ramming his body into it, breaking the back and decimating the spine.

"I EAT YOU! AND VOMIT YOU DOWN YOUR OWN DEAD GULLET!"

Crushing its head into the desk and flinging the body into the ground, the only recognizable part being the tightly gripped left hand. Morris fell upon it, with all of his strength he tore the fingers off, only to find... a torn and dirty newspaper clipping, didn't even make page one, of a young and beautiful woman, raped and beaten, denied medical help because of lack of money and worth, no one to talk to except her little baby boy, too young to help her, too young to council her. Left him by a rich door, suicide at seventeen.

Peter's arm had been covering a word scratched into the desk...

Mother forgive me...

.

...If he had only heard the cries of the devil, than maybe he could have saved his own soul.

...What happened after that is what usually happens in fictional stories, the hero, villain, or whatever title is chosen for him, walks away, slowly. Has time to think, to reflect on the events transpired, does he change? Maybe, but he learns, grows, becomes a better man and all that jazz...

...But you never outrun your demons... and you can't forgive your own sins...

.

He squeezed the trigger with a prayer for his love...

.

As he awoke, he saw all of the members of Rage's Quivers who had passed on, the chairs had returned to their upright positions, and the bodies were laid beside, with sheets covering the faces. Morris recognized by the chairs who lay under the sheets, Ezra, King, Nicholas, Timmy, and many others that he hadn't gotten to know.

The room was quiet, as Morris approached Beth's chair, Slate lay beside her, wringing the sheet in his hands.

Morris stood near her, and knelt, looking at her. Slowly he took her hand, softly he kissed her lips. Tenderly he caressed her hair; quietly he whispered to her, "I'm sorry." Falling into her bosom, he mourned.

.

...the end...

