BZPB REBORN

Hello, everyone, welcome to the new BZPB. (For those of you just joining, there was another BZPB before this one, but we decided it got far too bloated.)

When playing, you should keep these things in mind:

1. No god-modding. This rule became somewhat meaningless in the old BZPB with the ridiculous power levels of most of our characters. It's not hard; don't kill or grievously harm other people's characters without their permission, don't ignore other people's attacks, and generally don't pretend that your character is some invincible, all-conquering hero.

2. Resolve all disputes cordially. This is supposed to be fun. Yes, sometimes someone will do something you find objectionable, but do your best to talk it out with them rather than yell at random people.

3. No copyrighted characters. Please try to use original characters and concepts in this RPG. You can take inspiration from your favourite works of fiction, but please don't import characters or concepts wholesale. This was a major blight on the old BZPB.

4. Keep it serious. This is hard because BZPB historically never took itself that seriously, but we think it went too far. You can make jokes, of course, and even have short-lived joke characters, but don't have them take centre-stage. We have Beyond Insanity for that.

5. Keep it tasteful. Tyrannical, genocidal space regimes are acceptable. Literal Space Nazis are not. This is not a competition in who can be the edgiest.

6. For god's sake, have fun.

<Tanari Confederation Capital City, Executive Mansion>

President Edward Allman stood on the balcony of the Executive Mansion, a drink in one hand and a fone in the other. It'd been three months since his election (in which he had been elected unopposed with soldiers stationed near most polling stations), and he decided to watch the last troops finally leave the capital, as per his orders. He was honestly surprised that it had taken so long, but the democrats had been more tenacious than anyone had expected. Not since the Vrai campaigns had he encountered such an irritating enemy.

He took a sip of his drink, and immediately scoffed at the awful taste. He'd never been much of a drinker beforehand, but he had made a game out of trying every drink in the previous president's drinks cabinet. He thought the old fool (god rest his soul) must've drunk more than a third-rate pirate.

Edward, holding his nose, reached out through the railings and poured the rancid drink out slowly. He returned to his office and, sitting down behind his new, weighty Terran mahogany desk, began to wonder what his agents on other planets were up to.

In a large, ruinous castle sit three men at a round table, a hooded one across from the other two in suits. The castle is holey and dust still has not settled from recent attacks. The odd man is leafing through some papers, initialing each one, highlighting certain places, and passing them to the other two, who sit there confused. The left of the two speaks up, "And what IS this exactly?" "Terms of your surrender, of course. That's what you parleyed for, isn't it," he replies, taking down his hood. His eyes are teal and clear, almost that of a gemstone, skin as bronze as the best shield, his brown hair done up neatly in a business like cut. "And just who ARE you? I never saw you on the battlefield," The right inquires, to which he replies, "No one ever does. That's my job, politics and espionage. My name is Yenot, and if you don't sign those papers, President Allman of the Tenari Confederatiton will not be happy. When Allman isn't happy, my third job comes into play." The two suited men gulp, the left takes his turn questioning, "And what IS your third job?" Yenot smiles a wide trusting smile, ever wise looking, "Eliminating opposition."

Doors to the castle are beaten down, and strange looking creatures of a wide array storm in, all armed. One particularly brawny type comes from behind, holding a scroll, from which he reads, "You are hereby ordered to cease and desist these talks of surrender immediately and leave. This planet, Pi'lar IV is under the protection of The Pantheon. Failure to comply will result in orbital bombardment." Yenot keeps his smile, though his eye twitches a little, "Acknowledged," Yenot replies, tapping his hand to his ear. The scroll reader seems relieved, lowering his shoulders slightly, only to find a sword planted between them, Yenot standing in a Javelin throwing stance across the hall. "I have been ordered to kill all of you. Come at me."

<Malchior IV>

*Many centuries ago, human colonists settled on the fourth planet of the Malchior system. Theirs has been a largely peaceful existence, as most of their contact with other worlds has been for the purpose of trade and travel. There have been a few wars here and there, but the remarkably strong and technologically advanced Malchiorian military was able to keep them at bay.*

*15 years ago, a woman known as "The Norman" (for her feats in the Vrai War), retired from the force and rededicated her life to her true passion: science. One day, her husband Dr. Vell found an orphaned boy, abandoned in the slums. The couple were able to rescue him using advanced cybernetic and bionic implants. They called him by his street name: Klak.*

*Fast forward to now. Klak is a young adult and has enrolled in the police force of Control City. He is still living with his adoptive parents until he has enough money to move out.*


--

*Klak rushes through the crowd attempting to catch the thief*

Thief: "You'll never catch me, copper!"

"...The passing of this bill and the subsequent creation of a special economic zone around Melchior will create over 500,000 employment opportunities within the Empire, over the next ten years alone - strengthening our economy, and getting more of our young people into the work force. I would like to extend a personal thanks our parliamentary rivals, the Imperial party, for siding with us on this bill, showing a commitment from both sides to creating a greater, stronger Takemikazuchi Empire. Now, does the press have any questions?"

Prime Minister Long Shortman gestured to a reporter.

"How does the administration respond to the Capsarian Times article titled "Where actually is Sefer Yetzirah?""

"I'm sorry, I haven't had a chance to read that article."

"Prime Minister, A report published by your government has suggested you're simply unaware of Emperor Yetzirah's location about 90% of the time. Is this-"

"Please." interrupted Shortman. "Keep the questions relevant to the Melchior bill."

Another reporter stood up. "Yetzirah has a responsibility to the people. How can we be sure she's fulfilling that if we're not even sure where she is?"

Shortman adjusted the microphone.

"Emperor Yetzirah's primary focus at the moment is intergalactic diplomacy. Her unusual style may be unorthodox, but it's certainly effective - as you're surely aware, we haven't had a single major diplomatic incident since she's been in power. No previous leader can claim that. In addition, I think Yetzirah's track record speaks for itself - Eliminating poverty, instilling a system of basic income, and fully eliminating institutionalized discrimination from within the Empire, as well as devolving the powers of the Imperial government to eliminate the corruption that was rampant and widespread before her reign. As such, regardless of how unorthodox her leadership may be, the administration stands fully behind her any any leadership decisions she chooses to make. In both my role as Prime Minister, and on a personal level as a close friend of the Emperor, I fully condone and endorse her behaviour."

"But you don't know where she is?"

"Emperor Yetzirah is conducting diplomatic discussions outside of the Shangri-La system. For reasons of national security, I cannot divulge any further information. That will be all."

Shortman gestured with his hand to the gathered reporters, who stood up as he left the conference room, flanked by his security detail. A few minutes he arrived in his office, exhausted. Pulling a glass and filling with it as he sat down at his desk, he sighed, rolling his head back and gazing at the Takemikazuchi flag hung behind him. A few seconds later, he realized he had seen something he hadn't expect to, and sat back up. Laying on the sofa facing his desk, sprawled on her back, was Sefer herself, half-asleep.

"God damn it, Sefer! Stuff like this puts me in an awkward situation. What are the press gonna do if they find out you're here when I expressly said otherwise!"

"They won't" she replied, yawning, and sitting up.

Shortman sighed. "The media's concerned about you-"

"I know. I'm a psychic; I know everything that's said and thought in the entire parliament building. Hell, I know everything that's said and thought in the entire empire. Which reminds me - we really need to pass a bill outright banning teenage boys."

"This isn't the time for jokes, Sefer. What does it look like out there?"

"Bad." she replied, her expression becoming the more serious one Shortman was used to, and preferred. "Ascheron and Ta'harok aren't going to back down over this border conflict any time soon. Dolova Seranov isn't going to back down about wanting access to the Shangri-La system, too. He's adamant that one of his sacred comets is here, caught in our sun's orbit."

"Is it?"

"Yes. But that's besides the point. We don't let strangers into Shangri-La."

"And Blackout?"

"Blackout?. You don't have to use his Shinsengumi code-name, Shortman."

"Fine, then. Edward Allman."

"He's come into power in the Confederation... which frightens me more than any of the above."

Shortman frowned, gazing into his glass. "Will it be war?"

She nodded reluctantly. "Almost certainly."

<Planet Vongola>

*A man with long blonde hair is chained to the brick wall of a dank dungeon. He looks up at his captors with a face full of injuries. His blue eyes glow in the dimly lit cavern. One of the captors, Louis Agnes Oncé, King of Vongola*

Oncé: "I should have known you would betray me. Your kind can never be trusted."

???: "I am a symbol of the people. They support my revolution, and so does your army. Your loyalists all happen to be within this palace. And now, with the transmission of our declaration of revolution, the masses will rise and take Vongola. Your days are nu-"

*A soldier knees the blond man in the gut, and he coughs in pain*

Oncé: "Be silent before your king!"

???: "*bellows* YOU ARE NOT THE KING! YOU ARE A MERE PUPPET! I am the ruler of Vongola, I WILL RULE THE STARS!"

*The man breaks free from his restraints as the guards marvel at his strength. He grabs one and slams him on the brick wall. The other guard is dispatched by a swift kick to his shoulder, and soon, the blond man stands before King Oncé.*

*The King panics, and tries to run away, but his assailant grabs him from behind. The man grabs a gun from one of the guards, and aims it at the King*

???: "Come with me."

*They make their way to his majesty's office, where a younger blond man wearing a pink suit and a white shirt is sitting on a chair*

???2: "Excellent."

King: "You? Who are you? How did you get here?"

???: "You are not here to ask questions. Sit down, and announce your abdication on the holographic transmitter. Declare that I will become the leader of a new revolutionary Vongola. DO IT!"

*The King does so*

???: "Thank you, your majesty."

*He fires the phaser at the King, killing him*

???2: "You didn't have to kill him."

???: "No, but I did it anyway."

???2: "Father, we can establish our links around the universe. Already our contacts in the galaxy's criminal underworld have expressed interest in our revolution. I will also make an attempt to forge an alliance with either Takemikazuchi, Ascheron, or the Dominion. Or all three, whatever suits our interest."

???: "Do not forget the Tanari Confederation. Their new leader is much like us. A climber, one who forges his destiny despite all odds."

???2: "Yes, father. Our people will return to their former glory."

???: "And the Armechios will lead them. So sayeth Uteriach di Armechio, and his son Figlio."

OOS: DUN DUN DUN!!!

---

<Malchior IV>

*Using his enhanced speed, Klak catches up to the thief, and tackles him. He places him under arrest, and takes him to the station.*

*Klak receives commendation for his bust, and is given a vacation. As he is leaving the station, he notices a poster on the wall.*

*WANTED: PIRATE CODENAMED 'FOURTEEN'. CONSIDERED ARMED AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS.*

*Silently, Klak hoped to himself that he would soon become an intergalactic operative that would be able to take on bigger threats. He left the police station, and made his way home.*

Yenot stands in an ankle deep puddle of bloods of several different colors. Numerous swords and other blades scattered about, impaled in corpses, cast aside as they dulled, and stuck in walls. Two people still stand, one of the two suited men, and one from The Pantheon's entourage. "Politician. I will offer you one last opportunity to accept my surrender terms. Either way, you," Yenot points a sword at the other creature,"shall be messenger to your masters. Return to them with word of what has happened here." The Politician is covered in the blood of his comrade, visibly shaking, and clearly in shock, but Yenot's words seem to cut through long enough for him to make a response. "No. Kill me if..if you must. If I...If I accept surrender to the likes of you and your ilk... I'm dead any.." The politicians voice is cut short by a blade pinning his head to the wall behind him.

Yenot looks to the remaining messenger, he still wears his kind and knowledgeable smile, a little eerie now that is is streaked with cerulean blood. "Go, and tell of this slaughter. The Tanari Confederation will return, and this time, it will be for the entirety of this system."

On Arbottei, it was a particularly mild day. The various broad and narrow shafts of sunlight cascaded down like streamers, shifting as they did with the high winds up in the soaring treetops. Towns and cities under the safeguard of the massive roots went about their daily business: buying and selling goods, practicing combat forms, engaging in public performance art, etc.

Higher up, ports engaged in interstellar commerce, using beacons clear into orbit to guide ships to and from their docks. Just a bit higher up, in the lower branches of the trees, there were housed the palaces of the Arbotteian royalty. In the highest court of all, of the Empress and Emperor, quite the occasion was being made out of a prisoner's trial.

The Empress, with her long, glossy black hair and magenta flower marking on her brow, adjusted the voluminous sleeves of her royal robes. "These garments do so irritate me," she sighed to her husband. The Emperor was a rather plain man, save for his silver-fading cyan hair and rather impressive pleated beard. Empress Kaede went on to say, "I cannot wait to ditch this farce and get back to war games...I have a new set of troop movements I'm eager to test." Emperor Bunanoki made to speak, but fell quiet as the prisoner was lead in.

Stood bound by shackles of light atop a hovering ring of semi-magical wood, housing a mosaic of glimmering crystalline circuitry, the prisoner was led by two armored guards. She had a distinctively white-colored face, with dark blue-green tear shaped markings descending from the rings around her eyes onto her cheeks. She wore the twin-peaked hood of a jester, and a unitard in whimsical patterns colored to suit Arbottei's standard: teal and beige or brown, divided by stark black and white borders.

When she came to stop before the twin thrones, above her by a set of stairs, the jester craned her neck to look up. Biting her lip, she looked positively terrified. Bunanoki glanced over to his wife; noting how very zoned-out for boredom Kaede was, he gave a chuckle in his high-pitched, piping voice. Turning his gaze back down to the jester, the Emperor interwove his fingers, and leaned his elbows on his knees.

At last, Bunanoki asked, "Your name is...'Ivyspindle,' Ivy for short. Correct?" The jester nodded her head, still frozen in fright. "Mmh. My sources tell me that you've gotten yourself in a bit of trouble. Stealing what artifacts you did is a very dangerous crime...Those artifacts are to honor and connect with the trees of this world. Without them, we would be in quite a pickle." He leaned in, his eyes gleaming strangely in the light as he surveyed the jester's condition. Ivyspindle looked ready to cry, or be sick on herself, or both. Leaning back, Bunanoki's mustache was a-twitch in thought.

Soon, he delivered his decision: "Try as we might to govern Arbottei appropriately, there are times when we fail to attend to every citizen's needs," he told her solemnly. "I think you are in need of some correction, though 'punishment' has not been my forte, so long as I've been around. I will give you the choice: to spend 60 years in prison for stealing artifacts which are integral to Arbotteian safety and prosperity...Or to help us attend to a new and surprising conflict we've found ourselves in." He waited patiently for her to find her voice.

It took quite some time for Ivy to respond, in all her confusion and anxiety. When she was able to, though, her timid voice reached surprising volume: "P-p-please, Your Mercy...I-I desire to a, at, atone for m-my mistakes, Your Mercy." As soon as the words were out of her lips, the field around her dropped, and the shackles disappeared. The guards remained close, leading her away, as the Emperor bid his wife farewell on her enthusiastic exit. Quietly, Ivy desperately worried at what she'd gotten herself into.

< Kyras, Lurian Homeworld >

The Military forces assembled before the presidential palace numbered in excess of 40,000, standing in complete silence. Resplendent in full dress uniform and carrying both rifles, and the banner of the AKD - Ascheron Kingdom Demesnes - they cut an ominous and impressive sight. Huge AKD banners hung from the wings of the presidential palace, and huge screens had been placed about the entire courtyard, so that both the thousands of soldiers and millions of citizens present could witness Ascheron's speech.

He emerged from the palace, ascending the steps to the giant balcony hung high above and before the courtyard. Dressed in golden battle-plate, with his blood-red cape flowing behind him, he was almost as much of an impressive sight by himself as the gathered forces were. His retainers stood up as he approached the podium - various senior government ministers, as well as his favored generals. The crowd exploded into a thunder of applause as he appeared on the screens, saluting to his forces, who returned in kind.

"CITIZENS OF THE REPUBLIC!" He roared, his fist raised high above him. At that, the noise cut out instantly, like a candle flame caught between two fingers. He waited a number of minutes before continuing, his eyes surveying the crowds as if inspecting every individual one-by-one. Then, he continued.

"Our history has been a painful one. From our birth as a small nation, struggling for an identity in a galaxy wracked by war, to our revolutionary uprising and the internal conflict that followed in the wake of our independence. Through the bloody conflict of the reformation era, to the untold atrocities of the First and Second Solar Wars, our people have fought - sometimes amongst ourselves, and sometimes unified against a common foe. But we have triumphed! Our ancestors have not fought and died in vain; our glorious republic stands now on the foundation of what they fought to protect as the most powerful force in the galaxy!"

The crowd exploded into applause and cheering. Once again, Ascheron allowed it to die down, before continuing.

"And so, what right do we, who are the legacy of that struggle, have to throw away that power? To discard it, and refuse to use it? In the face of aggression from the Ta'har empire - Aggression, of which I am sure you are all aware! What right do we have to refuse to fight? The answer is simple; we do not have that right! Such is the burden of those who have power, but it is a burden we shall happily shoulder, for it is a noble one befitting of our glorious Empire! Against this foreign aggression, their can be no response but total and absolute war! We will take our fight to the stars! We will take our fight to the heavens! For the perpetuation of the ideals of the Republic! For justice, and for vengeance! SIEG! LURIA!"

The crowd replied in kind, as Ascheron saluted, walking from the podium. His retainers stood to attention as he descended the steps from the balcony, returning to his palace, to make war preparations.

<Tanari Confederation Capital City, Executive Mansion>

A light, gentle voice, neither feminine nor masculine, spoke before Edward. "Well, Allman, it seems that you've accomplished your primary goal. The Tanari Confederation is yours, and its power with it." An individual stood before him - a beautiful, androgynous figure, small and slight. Their face was pale as marble, their wavy hair as white as snow. Though their face and features looked youthful, their deep grey eyes bespoke an aged one, who'd seen much. They wore a fine white cloak trimmed with black, clasped in the centre with a black jewel cut into the shape of a rose. "So, where to next? Lyre? Decimus? Baenre?"

They stepped next to Blackout, their thin lips curling into a malicious sneer. "You will fail eventually, you know. One slip, one foolish over-commitment, and you will be history." They sighed. "But that is not the reason I have come. A man has come to pledge himself to you, in the wake of your recent election."

The man who stepped into the room behind them had a deep scowl on his angelic face, wild black hair framing it. He wore a black, tailored suit. That was not what drew the eye - that would be the massive, black, feathered wings that erupted from his shoulders. The angel knelt. "I am Azrael, the Darkened, here to serve you in your glorious conquest."

<Malchior IV>

*Klak enters his house with a young child speaking to him. Klak laughs and nods at what he is saying. The Norman walks up and smiles, patting the boy on the head and kissing her son's cheek*

The Norman: "Run along, Curtis! Your mother must be looking for you."

*Klak laughs, and begins talking with his mother. Soon, he brings up the subject of his planned vacation to find a mysterious artefact of the 'Riders'. After much debating, he finally convinced her to let him go*

*The next day, Klak sets off to find his friends to aid him in his quest. He may have been in his mid-20s, but he loved an adventure.*

---

<Ascheron's Palace, Kyras, Lurian Homeworld>

*A hologram is projected into the room that Ascheron is in*

Uteriach: "The revolution in my world was a success. We are solidifying our control of Vongola. I see that Luria has also solidified its power, and will soon strike against all aggressors. Perhaps we could be of....mutual assistance to one another."

---

<Vongola, Armechio Palace>

*The pro-Uterian forces have taken over, and are either organizing military campaigns to solidify their control of the planet, or destroying royalist works of art*

*Figlio walks by, rolling his eyes at the lack of appreciation for culture. He runs into a cloaked figure*

Figlio: "What have you learned?"

???: "It's on Malchior IV for sure. However, any expedition that you or your father may sanction must be cautious. The story of the Nish'Gek curse could be..."

Figlio: "Whatever it is, we'll be ready for it. Thank you, Nommesh."

*Figlio leaves and starts talking to other revolutionaries*

<Tanari Confederation Capital City, Executive Mansion>

Edward did nothing but sigh at Veras' taunt. "I take it you speak from experience? You should consider your present position - your present irrelevance - and shut up."

He got up to greet Azrael, stretching out his hand to shake. "Azrael? Welcome to the Executive Mansion. You probably already know me; I'm President Allman. Now, what on earth brings a man of your....." He paused, glancing at Azrael's wings. ".....persuasion to this planet, let alone to pledge his allegiance to me?"

-----

<Malchior IV>

Just outside the police station, a young blonde woman sat down on a bench, watching police officers filter in and out of the building. Spotting Klak in the crowd, she took out her phone and started to write a text message, when she was startled by a hoarse, accented voice coming from behind her. "May I help you?"

She whipped around to see a police officer standing behind her. "No, not at all, Officer." she smiled. "I'm just waiting for someone."

"Fair enough." the officer said. "I just thought it was suspicious, you sitting out here alone....."

"Is it a crime to sit alone now?" she hissed. "Like I said, I'm waiting for someone."

The officer, duly chastised, walked away. Had he bothered to turn around, he might've noticed that the woman had mysteriously disappeared.

< Arbottei, Upper Glade >

Ivy found herself left at a dizzying height, at one of the Soul Trees' upper glades. Rested against the trunk by one of the huge, sweeping branches, the upper glade was a grassy meadow ringed by a fencing of crystalline blue wood. There was a fountain at the center, a small stage for theatrical performances, a sandy pen for practicing martial arts...But most of all, it was quiet and serene like nowhere else Ivy had been before.

Arbottei was a planet known for peaceful vistas, but there usually were the noises of fauna and of residents going about their business to break the silence. Here, so very high above the surface, there were none of the lively sounds Ivy was used to. There was the whispers of wind and the rustling of leaves, the gurgling water of the fountain, but nothing else. It was certainly a place where one felt quite alone with their thoughts.

Taking her hat off her head so her frizzy tangles of blonde hair could fall around her shoulders, Ivy proceeded to crumple the headwear in her lap angrily. She wasn’t sure who to be angriest at the most, and that just made her angrier! She was angry at her father for prompting her to steal those artifacts to try and procure money for their village, she was angry at the guards who’d nearly busted her head open in tackling her to the floor, angry at herself for getting caught stealing something she knew better than to steal…She felt too angry to cry, and that just made her head hurt, until she threw the hat on the grass a few feet away from her and gave a seething scream of anger.

All of a sudden, a zooming noise approached. It sounded like a very high-pitched hum, occasionally whipped out of earshot by the winds. It sounded vaguely like it was coming closer, but for the life of her, Ivy could not make out which direction it was coming from. The leaves overhead were whipped into a frenzy by the increasing gale, until their leaves looked almost like waves in the surf, shimmering with blue and green and every hue that was in-between.

Ivy felt her breath wrenched loose in a gasp as the leaves suddenly parted in a whirling tunnel, allowing a figure on some kind of sky-board to jet down through. The board itself seemed made of of a half-crystalline bluish-green wood, capped at both ends by white metal. An engine at the back seethed with a trail of crackling lime green energy, which trailed away into particles that the gargantuan tree eagerly absorbed. The figure on the board had a distinctive visage, with his tan skin, sharp nose, and high cheek bones. His teal-colored hair was tied back in a ponytail by a narrow white cord, and he wore a combination of plain Arbotteian garments over a full-body suit of white and blue, traced by glowing lime green markings.

With a quick handstand, he redirected himself into a sliding maneuver along the arc of the branch suspending the upper glade. He proceeded to drop down with some suggestion of elegance, crouched down and leaned forward on one hand’s spread fingers as the other simultaneously caught the board and deactivated its engine. Tossing his head back and forth and rolling his shoulders to disperse the glimmering green particles yet clinging to him, he ran his fingers through his hair as he finally looked up at Ivy.

Incredulously watching the young man calmly lean his board against the massive supporting branch’s bark, Ivy wondered what kind of lunatic he was to ride like that so high up with no visible protection from a fall. She saw him stride closer, then kneel down to carefully pick up her discarded hat. Absently dusting it off and picking blades of grass from it, he walked it over to Ivy, and handed it back to her before sitting on the grass just next to her spot on the bench.

Now, Ivy was hardly a tall individual, but it struck her how tall and lean this guy was. Even sitting down on the grass beside her bench, he was less than half-a-head lower than her! For a while, she just sat there holding her hat in a bemused, though amiable silence. The young man was in no hurry to speak, and she wasn’t exactly inspired to kick off the conversation, herself.

Eventually, though, Ivy found the young man beside her speaking up in a relaxed kind of tone. “I hope you haven’t been waiting on me very long,” he half-chuckled; “I was a little higher up in the tree when dad sent me a message telling me to meet you here. I’m glad you made the decision you did.” Dad? Did this mean this guy was — ? “Yeah,” he answered the unvoiced question, “my name is Kuromatsu, First Prince of Arbottei, and therefore first in-line to the throne. Don’t go telling anyone, though; I have a reputation as a beech tree bum to uphold!” Was that…A tree pun?

“What a dork,” Ivy snickered, before going pale beneath her face-paint at how her loose lips might have just gotten her in even hotter water than before. Kuromatsu just laughed as if in agreement, causing Ivy to crack up too. She’d had apprehensions about this mission she was to undertake in a prison sentence’s stead. At least the apparent leader of the oblique ‘mission’ had a good sense of humor to him.

< Shangri-La >

Sefer woke up, looking no more tired than she usually did. She was more tired, but the point is she always looked that tired. She looked over and saw Lilith sleeping peacefully next to her, and therefore prodded her on the shoulder with her finger. Lilith groaned in annoyance.

"Wake up." instructed Sefer. "The Emperor commands it."

Lilith frowned, rolling over and pulling her pillow over her head. "I do not recognize your authority."

"Oh no." replied Sefer, climbing up, and reaching over to her wardrobe. She pulled some variety of loose, dark purple poncho from it and pulled it over her head. "It looks like Sefer Yetzirah's house is a failed state. I've lost the monopoly on the legitimate use of force."

"Good." replied Lilith. "Humans don't need government oversight in order to peacefully co-exist."

"No." replied Sefer. "Just coffee."

Sefer left the bedroom, stumbling into the kitchen. Her house was hardly the grand affair one might expect given her status as an Emperor, though still impressive; a large, open log cabin tucked away within the vast woodland area which occupied the north of Melchior's 7th orbital colony. The house was nestled above a forested valley, which opened to reveal the industrialized heart of the colony beyond that. The view of it at sunrise was truly beautiful, but Sefer was too tired to care. She lurched over the coffee machine, gently banging her forehead against the cupboard above it as it brewed. When it did, she pulled the mug out, turned, and sat down at the kitchen table. Shortman sat opposite her, his legs crossed as he read a newspaper.

Her right eye twitched. Sighing, she downed the entire mug before beginning. "What the hell are you doing in my house, Shortman?"

"We need to talk." he replied, folding up the newspaper and sliding it across the table to her. Sefer inspected the front page.

"Oh, the right-wing media hates Sefer Yetzirah. What a surprise."

"You've got to admit, Sefer, you're an easy target."

"And what if I am? Do you want me to get a sex change? Why don't I start dating men instead, whilst I'm at it?"

"Those two would cancel out!" called out Lilith. Sefer sighed.

"You know I'm not asking anything like that. But whilst the general populace still adores you, there's a growing far-right sentiment which is opposed to you. Now, whilst they can't affect your standing alone, they're opening the opportunity for a presidential candidate running on an anti-imperial platform."

"So what you're saying is, I have to change my ways to make it less embarrassing for you to be seen with me."

"That's not what I'm say-"

"That's exactly what you're saying, Shortman. Don't bullshit me. If you're forced to a choice between being friends with me, or having the electoral majority, be an adult and choose. But don't expect me to start giving speeches and TV interviews, or going on campaign tours to sell your party slogans. I don't know if you've forgotten this, Shortman, but I'm above the partisan system. My loyalty isn't to your party, or any party; it's to the Takemikazuchi Empire."

"I... I understand."

Sefer sighed. "Sorry for exploding like that, Shortman. You know I value your counsel. But I'm fed up with being expected to apologize for-"

"No, I fully understand. You don't have to explain. In fact, I shouldn't have even brought it up." Shortman stood up to leave, buttoning his blazer. He pulled his coat from the back of his chair, throwing it behind him before he pulled it over his shoulders. "Though, I will say..." he said, gesturing with his hands in a defensive posture. "...That even you have to admit - a TV interview wouldn't hurt. For either of us."

She frowned, already having stood up to brew another cup of coffee. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask." he replied, grinning, and pulling his hat over his head. He waved, and slipped out of the door. Lilith stumbled into the kitchen.

"How did he even get in, in the first place?" she asked. Sefer shrugged.

---

< Kyras >

Ascheron grinned.

"Of course. The AKD would be honored to stand alongside the legacy of the Riders in battle."

< Arbottei, Imperial Port 1 >

Soon, Kuromatsu had led Ivyspindle to a hidden elevator, with rings of white and sea foam green light whirring past the mosaic windows of the blue chamber. It very quickly brought them to some kind of wide open space, where different ships were docked. “Welcome to Imperial Port 1 of Arbottei, hidden in the top branches of the Legacy Tree Sanresault,” Kuromatsu explained, board tucked under his arm. “Here is where my family’s personal ships are located; we’re going to be occupying mine for the duration of the mission.” Indeed, Ivy found herself led to a particularly spacious-looking ship.

The main material of its hull was a curious cobalt blue metal, traced by intricate lines of glowing cyan circuitry and runes. Its windows were comprised by shimmering fields of condensed pine green energy, and an exterior frame of pale golden-beige ‘wood’ swooped out into six radial lobes at the center. This outer shell also comprised an arcing prow that resembled some kind of ship, and extremely long protrusions which Ivy could not fathom the purpose for, other than simulating the appearance of oars. Led onboard, she marveled at the interior.

It truly suited an Arbotteian aesthetic, with its six gardens fed by channels of water which all fed into a pool at the center. There at the center resided something Ivy had never seen firsthand, and was shocked to witness now: a Soul Tree. Resting on a small island in the pool of water, it had midnight black bark, and leaves with a shining cyan splendor that occasionally rippled with violet as they shifted this way and that. Hung from the tree on hoops of white cord were some kind of talismans, comprised of elongated rectangular tags of some purple parchment, marked by glowing blue glyphs. Smaller islands surrounding this tree’s firmament were topped by tiny ornamental gateways of purple crystal.

Up a flight of stairs — one of two flanking the entrance — Kuromatsu led Ivy to meet his crew. One woman immediately stepped forward to grab the girl’s hand, shaking it with her shockingly firm grip. Tan-skinned and with messy black hair tied in a long braid at the nape of her neck, she had a tattoo of some four-petal flower design in lavender on her cheek. She currently wore some kind of full-body suit colored in a misty purple, with legs that flared into bellbottoms, a mauve sash on her waist, and a navy blue vest. “Nice to meet you,” she boomed. “The name’s Shana! I oversee most of the activities on the ship, make sure the Prince doesn’t get lackadaisical on us; hope you feel right at home!” Ivy rubbed her smarting hand, although she was feeling quite enthusiastically welcomed.

Shana went on to introduce the rest of the small crew. There was Moors, with his long mane of black hair, single horn on his face-framing head guard, and mixed white robes and blue armor; Kasumi, with her two-toned teal camouflage, messy black hair underneath a matching camo visor, and a cloth mask that covered her lower face down to her neck; and Monk Izmargad, with his bald head, plain robes and obfuscating tinted spectacles in shades of green, and intimidating Fu Manchu mustache. The three all greeted Ivy quietly, all giving her their own version of an appraising look.

Breaking the silence, Kuromatsu cleared his throat. “I’m going to give Ivy a tour of the ship, to get her familiar with her surroundings and responsibilities,” he announced much more professionally than anything prior had suggested. “Shana, I need a full inventory of our provisions and check to make sure all systems are green before we’re set to disembark. Moors, Kasumi, check the armory and weapons stations to make sure we can handle a fight if we run into it. Izmargad, we need to make sure all our papers are in order to visit the territories necessary for our required stops. If everyone’s clear, let’s get to work!” All four saluted, and set off to their designated tasks.

Nodding his head at Ivy, Kuromatsu gestured for her to follow him. “Come on, then,” he grinned with his former relaxed disposition; “Let’s show you around, yeah?” Taken aback for just a short instance, Ivy nodded, and followed after the Prince.

— — —

< Kyras, local territory >

It was a momentous occasion, given the success of Ascheron’s rousing speech. Still, the military of the Ashceron Kingdom Demesnes was on high alert for any possible intrusions during this vital consolidation of authority. Near all radars were turned outward, seeing to it that no external forces threatened Kyras at this crucial stage.

Naturally, something just had to try. A report came in of a foreign object, skirting the tolerable boundary for external craft to be piloted near Kyras. It was moving at incredible speeds, and pulling off maneuvers that had to be endangering anyone or anything inside. The officer in charge of the group which detected the vessel delivered his orders sternly and with clinical precision; “Do not alert the intruder to our presence until it is too late for it to respond. Dispatch three craft for interception, fire it down over an uninhabited area, and mobilize to retrieve its wreckage before it can be detected by our citizens or other rogue elements. If anyone detects it, assert that a piece of foreign debris impacted with minimal damage.” His lip curled in a grim simile of a smile. “Ensure that little enough is left of it to be recognizable. Sieg Luria!” His operatives saluted, and mobilized to enact their orders to the letter.

Three interceptors were soon trailing the strange vessel, which was trailed by a violent reddish-orange particle stream. Its design did not correspond to any existing models in their database, so images of its intact state were quickly captured and relayed to base. When they were close enough to guarantee at least one hit, the interceptors delivered a shocking salvo with their missiles and cannons. The enemy vessel disappeared in the aftermath, but worryingly, its wreckage could not be seen falling after several moments.

Suddenly, it came screaming forth like a bat out of hell! Colored black and gray with orange markings, the bizarre horned mecha had a vaguely elliptical pod for a torso which jutted up and back from a tiny waist. Its long arms had very broad forearms, and its relatively short legs ended in large pods, both mounted from below with jagged blades, and with some kind of thrusters on the back. Most disturbing was its distinct facial features: namely, two bloodshot, organic looking eyes — if not for the three triangles encircling either pupil, pointing outwards — which rolled around in its sockets, as if possessed by a demon.

The mecha quickly lunged forward, grabbing an interceptor in its claw. Ripping the cockpit out, it crushed it in its claws with a spray of blood as the rest of the ship went tumbling past. The other two ships unloaded their weapons on it, but to no avail. A few small, displaced panels and strange sparking, fuming circuitry was all there was to show for their efforts. In return, the mecha revealed at least thirteen eyes on its limbs and torso, which proceeded to issue forth with whipping beams of fiery red energy. They snared the two ships in a field of pure agony, with a sensation like every cell in their body was being slowly pulled free of the rest.

When it faded, one pilot found himself narrowly able to regain control of his ship. He realized he was the only survivor when the other cockpit, ruptured and bloody, went hurtling past him. The mecha nowhere in sight, he had no recourse but to make a return to base, what information he had in tow.

< Kyras, Southern Continent >

"We demand the immediate withdrawal of Lurian forces from the territory of Tretyacha and monetary compensation for damages sustained during the illegal occupation. If our demands are not met within 24 hours, we will begin executing hostages."

The ultimatum had come six hours ago. The terrorists were humans from the world of Tretyacha, which had recently been incorporated into "Ascheron Kingdom Demesnes", an interstellar political, military and economic union of multiple states lead by the Republic of Luria. They were holed up in a theater with just over three-hundred civillians - the terrorists themselves numbered at about fifty - and were dug in for a prolonged battle, having snuck heavy weapons into the building the night before. The local police force were the first to respond, setting up a perimeter around the theater, which was then handed to the convetional army forces present. However, due to the high alert status of the Republic, the Ministry of Internal Affairs had been immediately notified, and had sent in one of their own assault team... the Lycaon unit.

Evangelise remained motionless, her crosshairs fixed on the front door of the theater. None of the combatants were visible through it, but the occasional sight of a barrel poking out from the edges of the open doorway suggested they were anticipating a frontal assault, and were in defensive positions. The civilian journalist who had volunteered to deliver the ransom approached slowly, announcing his presence to the hostage-takers within. He entered the theater, and emerged moments later, his hands raised in the air as he walked back to the defensive line. A voice called out on a megaphone, in the Tretaryon language.

"What did they just say?" asked Evangelise, to her spotter who lay motionless beside her.

"That if this is a trap, they will execute all the hostages."

Evangelise raised an eyebrow, climbing down from the top of the tank and throwing her rifle over her back. Readying a compact assault rifle, she pushed her way through the ranks of soldiers to the fore of the defensive line.

Inside the building, one of the terrorists brought the ransom trunk to their leader, who was commanding the operation from a small makeshift bunker set up on the stage of one of the many theater halls. The man carrying the ransom placed it on the table before him, thumbing it open. The smell that emerged was atrocious, and immediately caused most present to gag, but it wasn't a chemical weapon. Instead, when one of the guards realized what had happened, she began to scream, covering her mouth in horror.

"That's.... my daughter..."

"Those... bastards." replied the leader, seething in anger. It wasn't just the woman's daughter... there might have been enough parts to make a whole individual, but the varying skin tones and hair colors revealed the depth of the operation. This was both systematic, and targeted. He closed the trunk in disgust, pulling a sealed envelope from the top of the trunk, and opening it.

"Release all the hostages and surrender immediately, or more will follow. The Republic of Luria does not negotiate with terrorists."

He crumbled up the note, screaming, and driving his fist into the wall. Another guard spoke up.

"Those fucking bastards! We'll slaughter them all, brother!"

"They know who we are, and have our families at gunpoint... We... We have to surrender." replied the Leader, remorsefully.

"We'll die if we surrender!" replied the guard, aiming his gun at the leader. "The Lurian legal system only protects its own citizens!"

"And those of the AKD." replied the Leader. "Like it or not, we fall under its protection... if they try and make an example of us, they'll only validate our cause. At least... at least this way our efforts won't have been in vain." he added, raising a communicator to his mouth. "Release the hostages. We've got what we came for. Let's avoid any further bloodshed."

A few minutes passed, as the hostages were ushered out of the building. The guard remained facing the leader in disbelief.

"You coward bastard... You dishonor the blood of our ancestors! I should kill you where you sta-!"

At that, the guard's head exploded in a shower of gore. The flicker of an active camo system alerted the leader to the presence of an assailant moving invisibly through the seats surrounding the stage. He reached for his revolver and fired blindly, jumping into cover. The cobalt muzzle flare of a Rail-SMG on the balcony above caught him off guard as a burst tore through his side, throwing him off the stage and into the chairs below. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth as Evangelise decloaked on the edge of the stage above him, her rifle aimed down at him. The sound of gunfire echoed throughout the entire building.

"But... we released all the Hostages..."

Evangelise smirked. "The Republic of Luria does not negotiate with terrorists."

"...The Republic of Luria... Of course..." he replied, his breathing unsteady. " ...The dog Ascheron sends his own daughter to do his bidding."

Evangelise frowned. She racked back the bolt on her rifle violently, and unloaded a single shot into the center of the man's head, killing him. At that, a Lycaon soldier ran up to her, saluting.

"All terrorists neutralized, Lt. Ascheron. No casualties to either our forces, or the hostages, though a fire has started in the building. We should escape immediately."

"Good work" she replied, patting him on the shoulder, and pulling off her helmet, giving it to him to carry. She ran a hand through her messy, shoulder-length blonde hair, which had fallen out of the usual style she tied it up in for combat operations. The two exited the burning building, to an array of cheers from both the conventional army units and the news personnel gathered. Evangelise saluted as she passed through the line, climbing into the back of the Lycaon VTOL, which soon took off. Before Evangelise could unwind, however, her commpiece buzzed, and she was forced to answer it.

"Lt. Ascheron." said the voice on the other end. "This is General Silver, of the orbital guard. You better get here quick."

"What is it?"

"Something just appeared in our orbit two hours ago, and took out two of our interceptors. All the signs are pointing to it being the Takemikazuchi."

She grit her teeth, sighing. "Roger that."

<Malchior IV>

The blonde woman dashed into a nearby decrepit church. It was marked for demolition, so nobody would follow her. For some reason, nobody ever seemed to notice that the church had been marked for demolition for the last three years.

The church was empty, apart from a lone priest sitting on one of the pews, praying. The woman slowly approached him, trying not to make too much noise. "Father Jones?" she whispered.

The priest suddenly got up, and nodded at her. "Yes, Aster. Why aren't you following him?"

"I've already found him." Aster said. "Richard's taken over for the night, he'll call us soon."

"Good. This boy is..... important. We need to know what he wants, Aster. We have to know." Jones shook his head, picked up his Bible, and retired to the sacristy.

<Tanari Executive Mansion>

Azrael nodded.  "I understand your concern.  I simply have come to side with you for one reason."  He indicated his raven-black feathers.  "Few would accept one such as I into their fold, yet you seem the sort of man to ignore what his subordinates are - simply how useful they are to him."  A smirk crossed his face as the angel stood up.  "Indeed - there are rumors amongst the populace that you've made deals with a demon prince of Hell.  A fallen one seems almost a pittance compared to those rumors."

His smirk drooped back into his usual stoic expression, as he assumed a neutral, closed posture, his arms crossed across his broad chest.  "As for my skills, I possess ability to manipulate shadow, to sink into darkness and become unseen, and to shape darkness into a weapon of my choosing.  If there is any place you require my skills, you need only ask."  He looked back into Blackout's eyes.  "My only wish is that you grant me sanctuary from those who would destroy me for what I am."

--------

<Malchior IV, Control City Red Light District>

Though Malchior IV had a strong law enforcement agency and a strong government, sill there were parts of the planet's metropolis that operated under their own laws.  For just as the great and glorious republic of Malchior took root, from the beginning, a cancerous rot ate at the city was there.  And the name of that rot was Cagnazzo il Verduro.

From the beginning of the founding of Control City, Cagnazzo was there.  Ruthless, brutal in the execution of his will, and above all patient, when his attempts to unseat a rival failed, he was content to simply wait in his fortress and wait til they shriveled away.  For Cagnazzo, unlike the humans of Malchior IV, was unnaturally long-lived.  The explanations for his long life have been long and most are wrong.  Some believed he bathed in the blood of virgins, or that he was a vampire.  Some believed he had developed a cure for aging in secret, or that he wasn't really one person, rather a legion of clones.  The true explanation eluded all of Malchior IV, for Cagnazzo's origins are secret to all but himself.  All that was known was that Cagnazzo il Verduro would rule for eternity, regardless of the wishes of any authority.

Such was what most people thought, that is, until two years ago.  For the first time in centuries, Cagnazzo's eternal rule was broken.  In a single night, the impregnable Verduro Fortress was wrenched open and taken.  How it happened was still unknown.  Survivors spoke of the very blood of Cagnazzo's guards leaping out of their veins and strangling them to death; of towering, brutal, and inexorable black iron sentinels who systematically slaughtered all who stood in their way; of a great glowing circle of blood around the fortress; of a white-haired vampire with scarlet eyes who drank deep that night.  The one thing that was for certain, Cagnazzo il Verduro no longer ruled the underground of Malchior IV.

Instead, an ambitious and hedonistic woman named Cassandra Thorne took his place.  Cagnazzo's austere style was replaced by the lavish and beautiful, red velvet, golden statues, and all kinds of jewels, and a great throne fit for a queen.  And queen she was - the Red Queen, she was called, her true name spoken only in smallest whisper, out of fear of what power she wielded.  She was now queen of the underworld, for two years expanding her power, for what she lacked in patience she matched in daring.

Within her chambers, Cassandra waited, slouched lazily against her throne, wearing a soft, lacy red dress, her long, red hair tied back into a braid.  She opened her blue eyes, a soft smile taking her features, when from behind her chair, a woman materialized.

She was striking, with stark silver hair tied back with a black ribbon, and piercing red eyes.  She wore a black cloak about her delicate shoulders, a black and white dress underneath.  She stepped forward to embrace Cassandra, who accepted it, taking the smaller woman in her arms.  "I am sorry I've been gone so late, Cassandra," she said apologetically.

Cassandra dismissed her apology, waving a white-gloved hand.  "Worry not, Ophelia.  You had your duties, and I know how your...tastes," she paused meaningfully, "can take you some time.  I take it you are well?"

She nodded, smiling up at Cassandra.  "Yes, I am.  I've missed you dearly while I was away."  She looked up and pressed her lips to hers.

"And I you," Cassandra said, breaking the kiss.  "There are more possibilities to broaden our horizon and increase our profits - I was thinking of buying a copy of The Testament of Longinus for you."

"The Testament of Longinus?"  Ophelia's eyes widened.  "But there are only three copies of that in existance - surely you can't-"

"Nothing is impossible for a queen."  Cassandra grinned, kissing Ophelia yet again.  "But, unfortunately, I must tend to business right now.  There are some dull aspects to running an empire."  She snapped her fingers.  "Cagnazzo?"  she called.

Into the room stepped a scarred man.  Once, one might think, with his long black hair, intense brown eyes, and muscled body, this man might have cut a powerful, even a heroic figure.  Yet now, he wore the bloody crown of the Red Queen on his chest, an iron collar around his neck, and the scarlet clothing of those who followed the house of Thorne.  Where once he was the most powerful man in all of Malchior IV, here he was, reduced to Cassandra's plaything.  "Yes, mistress?"  he said through clenched teeth.

"Be a dear and deliver this message for me."

"Yes, my lady."

---

((The message will be delivered to whoever wants to be in an alliance with a powerful crime lord))

<Tanari Executive Mansion>

Edward laughed, and patted Azrael on the wings. "That's true. I don't much care for my subordinates' species - only their competence and loyalty. I can grant you sanctuary, but you will have to prove those two things."

He sat down behind his desk, and began to gesture for Azrael to sit down too, before he realised that he might find the chair uncomfortable due to his wings, leaving his hand awkwardly hanging in the air. "Welcome to the team, Azrael the Darkened, at least for now. You will receive your first assignment within the week."

-----

<Malchior IV>

"Good evening, Senator Jones."

Startled, Jones immediately dropped his Bible, and scrambled to pick it up. He looked up to see a tall, bearded man, grinning and pointing a gun at him.

"Who are you? How dare you enter this house of God with a gun?" Jones barked.

The man shrugged, still grinning uncomfortably. "Don't give me lip, Senator, I'm the one with the gun here. Call me Robert. Or Barricade. Whatever. Care to tell me why you're a priest?"

"Because of you madmen!" Jones said. "You will drive the Tanari Confederation into the god damned ground! I had to..."

His sentence was interrupted by two gunshots. Jones fell to the ground, bleeding and clutching his stomach. Barricade walked away, still grinning, not noticing Jones' hand still twitching...

<Tanari Executive Mansion>

There comes a buzzing on the intercom on President Allman's desk, a secretary announces, "Yenot here to see you sir." Allman presses his button to respond, "Send him in." A moment later, Yenot opens the door, closing it quietly, his hood donned and pulled down. "It's done. I left the impression you wanted, too. Maker's staff, I never want to have to do that again." Reaching into his pack, he brings out a binder with a couple pages of paper, which he thumbs through. "And with that, another contract complete. If you'd be so kind to sign here...oh you have a guest, I apologize." Turning to Azrael, he extends his hand, "I'm Yenot, mercenary, negotiator, actor, The all Mighty, at your service."

< Arbottei, Imperial Port 1, Kuromatsu’s Ship >

Ivyspindle had been raised on Arbottei, and was very familiar with the way things ran there. Settlements were not carved out of the natural environment; they were installed into it, with full consideration for local flora and fauna in every construction. There was no ‘civilization vs. nature’ mentality on Arbottei, because the mentality was that even to ‘defeat’ nature would ensure a loss for everyone in the end. The welcomed intrusion of plants and animals into towns and cities, the bridged canals, the consistent dappling of sunlight by so very many leaves overhead…It was all a comforting aesthetic that Ivy had grown quite used to.

Despite all the familiar trimmings, she was not prepared for Kuromatsu’s ship. It looked as though the Prince had very much a green thumb, as flowers and rare plants were all carefully maintained, housed as they were by ornamented recesses in the walls. Branches reminiscent of the Soul Tree on the ‘garden floor’ arched from the walls, creating a strangely soothing canopy beneath the ceiling; interesting to note was how that ceiling seemed to be imitating the open sky of Arbottei, now at night. Even the technological aspects had a decidedly totemic feel to it, with curved silvery-white panels of metal and glimmering cyan and pine green circuitry shaped in such a way to form stylized depictions of figures straight from the books on Arbotteian mythology Ivy had read as a child.

First up on the tour was the command center of the ship. Bridged onto from the left and right, the suspended platform’s edges were artfully sloped and hemmed by vine-wrapped railings. “Here is where a lot of quick decisions have to be made, on the off chance some serious action is going down,” Kuromatsu explained. “I observe all the ship’s functions, the course it’s headed on, stuff like that from the Captain’s chair. Shana does the piloting in tricky situations, like an actual battle; most of the time, Iksa can run the ship just fine, and she handles all the number-crunching and heavy lifting on things like warp jumps. Moors and Kasumi handle the weapons, and Izmargad keeps an eye out for flanking maneuvers and stuff.” Satisfied with Ivy’s confidence she had good grip on the command center, Kuromatsu led her elsewhere.

She was shown to the residential quarters halfway-along the ship, taking up five columns and many rows of small rooms that had to be a bit cramped. “This is where everyone can get their shut-eye or alone time when the heat isn’t turned up,” Kuromatsu explained casually. Last of all was the mess hall, although Ivy noticed conspicuously that a reinforced door was ignored by the tour. It was plain and inconspicuous, with the only notable feature being a narrow plaque that read ‘Atelier.’ Deciding that perhaps she didn’t need to know what was behind that ominous door, Ivy decided to leave her curiosity unsatisfied, and followed Kuromatsu to help do final checks on the ship before disembarking.

< ISV Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, Deep Space >

Vance danced around the throne room, ecstatic.

"An alliance! An alliance, with an extremely attractive woman! Hayley! Let me see the picture again!"

Hayley sighed, showing a picture of Cassandra to Vance. He grinned.

"Actually, sir..." interrupted Hayley. "...She's a-"

"An extremely attractive woman, I know. Jesus christ Hayley - sometimes I don't know why I bother keeping you around, I can do all this myself."

"She has a girlfriend, sir."

"So?" he replied, leaning in and grinning. "Hayley, for christ's sake, just because there's a goalkeeper doesn't mean you can't score."

"No, I mean, she's a-"

"An extremely attractive woman, yeah, I get it. Hayley, you're like a stuck record. Right, I'm going to Malchior, see you in a bit."

"I can't allow you to go alone, sir." she replied, as a mysterious figure jumped down from the balcony above, his purple silk cloak billowing around him as he landed. He stood up at around 190cm tall, with a lithe build, and was dressed in an outfit consisting of snakeskin pants and a purple dress shirt, open to the center of his chest, under a cream blazer buttoned at the waist. He had the pale complexion and exquisite beauty one could only expect from a pure-blooded vampire (or Veras). His long silver hair was slicked back over his head, save for two strands which framed his forehead. He kneeled before Vance, one hand on the saber affixed to his waist.

"I am Ra'an, of the night. It should be my pleasure to escort you, as I have dealt with many of my own kind before."

Vance grinned, and the two left the throne room, and moments later, the ship itself.

---

< Kyras, Ministry of Internal Affairs HQ >

Eva finished rewatching the footage for the second time.

"It doesn't match any Takemikazuchi designation we've seen so far."

"No." replied General Silver. "But it could be an experimental model."

Eva sighed, standing up. "Increase orbital patrols, and keep our entire STS grid online 28/7."

"You're not going to deliver your demands to Empress Sefer?"

"Emperor, Silver. She may be our enemy, but that doesn't excuse us for showing anything less than the utmost respect."

"Very well, Lieutenant." replied Silver, bowing. " ...I trust the fact that I came to you before your father with this shows the loyalty of me and my forces to the Eva faction?"

"Your loyalty is duly noted. If Gabriel inquires-" she said, Silver flinching at her use of their leader's first name, "-tell them it was an isolated attack by insurgent forces."

"Yes, my lady."

< The moon of Nil'nara >

A flickering torch lit the interior of a hut, projecting the shadows of two human-like figures onto the wall. The first lay on a bed, which, like the rest of the hut, was made of vines with a steel-like texture, giving the hut an almost mechanical appearance. The second figure sat next to the first, using a tweezer-like tool to carefully extract shrapnel from his companion's face. The patient turned to look into the light, but his doctor pushed him back onto his back and held him down.

"I'm sorry, father, you must stay still."

"Kakamu, these wounds cut so deep... what if there is no end?"

"There's always an end," Kakamu replied, "but only for those who are patient enough to wait for it."

Kakamu's patient laughed momentarily, before the pain of his injuries returned to banish the smile from his face. "You should be the one bearing the title of Savant, not me. Your words are wise beyond your years."

"But you have lived to earn your wisdom, father, and the title of Savant is not one to be born... as I understand it, it is a gift earned by many years of service, bestowed upon you by life itself."

"You're proving me right!" The Savant chuckled again, before it turned into an involuntary cry of pain as Kakamu removed another piece of shrapnel from his arm. "Kakamu... why are you here?"

"What do you mean? You're injured. You need my help."

"We both know that however many pieces of metal you pull from my skin, they'll be twice as many to remove tomorrow."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. The Arokazek will return and take me away, the metal in my skin will combine and transform me into something new."

"Something evil."

"Kakamu, I am strong. They say power corrupts, but I have found that it is a two-way process. Anyone can be the master of the power they receive with proper training, and I have all the training I need."

"Tell that to the King."

"Koranis is... desperate. He should have been prepared for this, but nobody expected the death of his father so soon."

Kakamu stopped operating on his mentor while he pondered his feelings. As much as he hated the decisions that Koranis had made in recent times, he should at least feel sympathetic for his loss... but he did not. Did this make him a bad person?

"Oh great," he thought, "more self-doubt... just what I need."

As if reading his mind, the Savant strained himself by leaning up and putting his hand on Kakamu's shoulder. "Kakamu, look at yourself."

And so he did. Kakamu extracted from the wall a large mirror that was made of an especially reflective version of the same material the hut was made of. He placed it on the floor, and reluctantly gazed upon himself. Much of his naturally red form had been overridden by the metal implants of the Arokazek, including his face, chest, elbows and knees. He touched his face with the fingertips of his right hand, but since they were metal too, he felt nothing. He did not recognize the man in the mirror anymore. He was someone new.

"What do you see?" The Savant asked.

"I see a monster."

"I see a hero."

OOS: Waiting on Maly for Blackout.

-----

<Malchior IV>

Upon hearing the gunshots, Aster dashed into the sacristy to find an open window, and her mentor lying on the ground wounded. She immediately knelt down to check Jones' pulse, and sighed with relief when she realised he was still alive.

"Father Jones? Can you hear me?" she said. Jones moaned in response, but that was enough.

"I'm... still alive, thank you." he stammered out. He reached down to inspect his wound, and breathed a sigh of relief upon finding that it was somehow already gone.

"My God, it worked." he said, to Aster's confusion.

-----

The next day, a young man in a purple hoodie and jeans followed Klak as he looked for his friends.

<Kyras>

*Uteriach smiles at Ascheron*

Uteriach: "Pleasure working with you. Let me know when you want to schedule a confidence-building measure."

*The hologram disappears*

---

<Malchior IV>

*As Klak makes his way to the café that his friends Nadle and Bob were at, he notices that someone is following him.*

"First the woman near the police station staring at me, then this guy. I wonder what's up," he thinks to himself.

*Klak grabs a knife from a nearby street vendor, and flings it at the man in the purple hoodie*

<Tanari Executive Mansion>

Edward smiled and nodded to respectfully acknowledge Yenot. "Now, surely you've been through worse. In any case, that should send a message to the good people of Pi'lar IV." he said. "I always liked that plucky little species. They'll make a fine addition to the Tanari Confederation soon."

He turned to Azrael and nodded again. "My apologies. Yenot, I'd like you to meet Azrael the Darkened. He's the newest addition to our little elite circle... if he passes the test, that is." he quickly added, to remind Azrael of his place.

Suddenly, the phone on his desk buzzed, causing the whole desk to shake slightly. "My apologies." he said and picked up the phone to read the message, which simply read "The Senator is dead", although the real spelling was far from perfect. Edward beamed at the news, and putting the phone away he said to himself "And the last bloody Unionist has breathed his last."

"Barricade did it." he said to the others. "Yet another little thorn in my side is dead. How about we celebrate with a drink? Azrael, do your kind drink?"

-----

<Malchior IV>

Aster looked positively flabbergasted as she watched her mentor, who she thought just a second ago was wounded and dying, get up seemingly without a care in the world apart from the hole in his cassock. "I'm sorry... how... how can you be OK? You were..." she stammered, still in shock.

"Sorry for scaring you like that, my girl. I really couldn't be sure if it had worked or not." Jones smiled, which just creeped Aster out even more, to the point where she didn't even notice that Jones had referred to her as 'my girl', which she usually never let slip since she found it so condescending. "You see, I knew 'President' Allman would send someone after me, so I have an insurance policy. A friendly scientist used a serum on me, which gave me extraordinary healing abilities. I think I could just about pull through anything less than a bomb. Let's hope I won't have to test that."

---

The man in the hoodie saw Klak grab the knife, and immediately ducked behind a nearby street vendor, to her consternation. Moving out from behind her, he ran down a small alley, hoping to stay out of Klak's sights.

<Tanari Executive Mansion>

Azrael nodded, accepting Allman's wine. Rather rich, he remarked as he drank it. "A test?" He frowned. "I never much cared for games."

The white-clad magus rolled their eyes. "Of course, yet another test. Must you continue with this inanity whenever another comes before you?" They turned back to Allman. "You're absolutely sure, this time? That senator has a habit of slipping under your nose. This is, what, your third attempt on his life?" They sneered. "You should have had the body cremated, just to be sure."

---

<Malchior IV, Control City Red Light District, Throne of the Red Queen>

Cassandra sat relaxed on her red velvet throne, awaiting the audience that was to come to her. Behind the chair lurked her advisor and lover, and before her numerous black iron statues, in the shape of armored knights.

"Are you certain that Vangelis is the best idea?" Ophelia asked, idly stroking her silver hair.

"The man is an absolute bore, I'll grant you that. But, he runs the most deadly assassination ring in the universe so we'd be best to allow him his small amusements." Cassandra pushed a lock of her red hair out of her face. She needed to present the best image to potential allies, even ones as boorish as Vance Vangelis.

<Malchior IV, Klak's Location>


*Klak narrows his eyes. He knew that the man in the hoodie would have had a different reaction had all this been a coincidence. He ran into the small ally, and shouted at the man in the hoodie.*

Me: You there! Stand down! This is Malchiorian Police!

The man in the hoodie saw Klak grab the knife, and immediately ducked behind a nearby street vendor, to her consternation. Moving out from behind her, he ran down a small alley, hoping to stay out of Klak's sights.

---

<Vongola>

*Night falls across the capital city as Figlio approaches a small spaceship and enters it. The voices of the planet's citizens demonstrating in favor of Uteriach's revolution resound throughout the area. The ship flies away.*

<Tanari Executive Mansion>

"Inanity? I beg your pardon?" Allman sneered at Veras. "How dare I want to know if the people I recruit are actually as loyal and competent as they'd like me to believe. If you're so naive, no wonder you were brought down." he added, just to annoy Veras that little bit more. "Anyway, Azrael, it's no game. It's a mission, a simple one, but one which should hopefully confirm your competence. You'll have it within the week."

He turned back to Veras. "You know what they say, third time's the charm. Barricade is my best assassin, after Yenot here, of course. He wouldn't have done a sloppy job."

Edward finished his wine, and stood up. "Now, gentlemen, Veras, unless there's anything else, I'm going to bed now. I'm going to a summit tomorrow, and I'd rather not fall asleep in front of Sefer Yetzirah."

-----

<Malchior IV>

Once she had finally collected her thoughts, Aster began to curse under her breath. "When, in God's name, were you going to tell me that you had undergone a serious medical procedure?" she huffed.

"I don't have to tell you anything..." Jones began, only to be interrupted. "It's been six years! We've known each other for six damn years! How can you not tell me these things?" Aster continued.

"Just because you were my parliamentary assistant for so long doesn't mean I have to tell you everything about my life." Jones said.

"I don't know if you noticed, David, but we're on the run and you just had to fake your death! I need to know these things!" Aster replied.

---

The man in the hoodie stopped, put his hands in the air, and slowly turned around. "Look, man," he said. "I'm not looking for any trouble. Just... don't kill me, please?"

< Shangri-La >

Shortman entered the hangar of the Kusanagi, flanked by guards. Dock attendants were still busy loading containers aboard the ship and securing them in place. Sefer stood amidst it all, no doubt psychically making sure that everyone knew where everything needed to be on a subconscious, intuitive level. Shortman, and the two guards flanking him, saluted as they approached.

"All the preparations are complete." announced Shortman, extending his hand. "I'll hold down the fort whilst you're away."

Sefer took his hand, and shook it. "Thank you, Prime Minister."

"Though, Emperor Sefer..." he replied, suddenly. "...don't you think you might have more success with a more... formal outfit?"

Sefer looked down, as it to remind herself what she was wearing; a purple silk shawl that covered her entire upper half, save for her forearms, paired with a pair of black leggings and knee-high black boots. She turned back to Shortman.

"What, you think I'd have more success with Allman if I showed a little skin? He'll probably be excited enough as it is." she added, folding her arms and peering over Shortman's shoulder as Lilith entered the hangar, behind him. "God knows nothing turns a man on quite like Realpolitik." she added, one of the guards stifling a chuckle.

"We're talking about the fate of the Empire, Sefer. A suit and tie wouldn't go amiss."

"Any Empire that requires me wearing a suit and tie to exist, doesn't deserve to exist." she added, before being promptly glomped by Lilith. "Now, I've gotta go."

"I understand." replied Shortman, saluting. "Good luck."

At that, Shortman turned and left, with the rest of the dock personnel gradually filtering out, until only Sefer and Lilth were left. A few minutes later, the Kusanagi pulled clear of its moorings and, lining up its prow with the tear in the nebula wall, warped out of the Shangri-La system.

---

< Kyras >

Ascheron stood by the window, drinking from a glass of wine, and gazing out at the beautiful sight of the capital city at night; the mall before his balcony was illuminated in a warm glow, contrasting against the serenely calm river which separated the presidential estate from the capitol. The door to his lounge opened, and then gently closed, as Eva stepped in, still in her Lycaon fatigues. She stood by the door, half-awake.

"You requested my presence, sir?"

Ascheron chuckled, placing the empty glass of wine to his desk, and picking up a leather-bound folder. "Don't worry. You can call me father."

"Very well."

Ascheron frowned at her coldness, but gestured for her to come to him. He handed her the folder; inside were reports, and many pictures of Uteriach, and his son, Figlio.

"So you've secured an alliance with the Riders?"

"We have one." he replied, walking back to the window. "But if we had secured it... I wouldn't have called you here."

"...I don't really understand the distinction."

"A man is on a ship, which is sinking. There are many people on this ship, but he can only save one, and so is forced to choose. Who does he save? The merchant, who can offer him wealth beyond his imagination? The lord, who can offer him power and authority? Or perhaps, the priest, who can save his soul and guarantee it passage into the afterlife?"

Ascheron turned to her. "The answer is... none of those. He saves his son, who can offer him nothing, but with whom he shares a bond of blood. That is the strongest bond any two individuals can have... and with it, empires too can be tied together."

At that point, Evangelise realized what he was getting at. She closed the folder in disgust, placing it on Ascheron's desk.

"Figlio di Armechio... that boy represents the legacy of the Riders. You represent the legacy of the Ascheron bloodline, the purest and most perfect to ever exist. A marriage of those two legacies would create the most powerful alliance to ever exist... and the offspring of that marriage would-"

"I won't do it."

"You will do as you are COMMANDED!" replied Ascheron, screaming. He grabbed the empty wine glass and drove it into Eva's face, where it shattered, sending blood-stained shards of glass across the room. She stumbled backwards, covering the cut side of her face, as Ascheron grabbed her, driving her against the wall. "I am ASCHERON! THIS UNIVERSE, AND EVERYTHING IN IT, IS MINE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DEFY ME!"

Eva stared at her father, as if shellshocked. Ascheron stepped backwards, collecting himself. It was obvious he felt he had gone too far, but there would be no way he would voice such thoughts. "I have granted you more freedoms than I have ever been under any obligation to... and, evidently, I was wrong to have done so. You have forgotten your place, and your responsibilities. If you do not wish to end up in the same hole as your bastard mother, you shall do exactly as I request. Find this boy and-"

"I said, I won't do it."

Ascheron lunged towards her, but Eva reached behind her back, drawing out a combat dagger. She drove it through Ascheron's palm as it closed in towards her face, and then spun around him, pushing him against the wall and pulling his arm up in a lock.

"You xenos scu-"

Eva rammed Ascheron's head against the wall so hard as to crack the brickwork, shutting him up.

"Now, it's my turn to talk. I do what I want. Learn to live with that and you'll find yourself a lot happier. I'm not here for you to exchange for free alliances with whomever you feel like at any given moment. In case you've forgotten, I'm the commander of the fucking Lycaon Unit, which means I'm directly responsible for the fact that you and the rest of your fascist administration haven't all been assassinated yet. So how about next time you get a truly shit idea in your head, you think about it before voicing it and making yourself look like a fucking retard. Do you understand?"

Eva stepped back, releasing Ascheron. He turned, his face blooded and his eyes bloodshot, seething with anger. His left hand coiled into a fist, but he made no attempt to attack her.

"Get out of my house... Lieutenant."

She saluted, smirking. "Yes, my lord."

At that, she turned and left. Ascheron pulled the dagger out of his hand, roaring in pain as the barbed teeth cut through his flesh.

---

< Control City >

The doors opened, and Vangelis entered, Ra'an following quickly behind him, carrying a scythe. They, in turn, were followed by two ninja; both of which appeared to be made of gaseous shadow, wearing black outfits, and with pitch-black skin, the only color coming from their glowing eyes - the leftmost ninja, Chaos, possessed red eyes, whilst his counterpart, Countenance, possessed purple eyes. The four came before Lady Cassandra, dropping to a knee. Vangelis drew a dagger, which Ophelia regarded nervously, before he drew it along his own palm. Ra'an passed him a scroll which he unfurled and clenched his fist above, droplets of blood cascading down to the parchment as a signature. He then held out the contract to Cassandra, who inspected it. The contract read as such;

Lady Cassandra Thorne,

I give you my undying loyalty.
If I ever violate your trust,
you may take my life.

Vance Vangelis.

He looked up at her, a confident grin on his face.

<Malchior IV>

*Dr. Pa Vell quietly leaves his home without The Norman noticing. He is picked up by an off-road vehicle, and driven to a nearby airport*

*In the distance, he can see a man with his finger and his thumb in the shape of a hook in his belt loops. 'This must be him,' he thinks to himself.*

*Meanwhile, the man whispers "Here we go" to himself.*

*The vehicle stops in front of the mysterious man, and its occupants get out*

???: "Dr. Pa Vell, I'm MIA."

*Dr. Pa Vell suddenly wakes up, realizing that this interaction was all a dream from his random nap.*

---

Me: No promises. Who are you? Why are you following me?

*Klak pulls out a small laser pistol*

--

*A hooded figure knocks on the door of David Robert Jones' church. It appears to be chattering in an ancient language*

--

*Due to plot speed combining itself with lightspeed, Figlio's ship arrives at Control City, not too far from where Cassandra and Vance Vangelis are at*

---

<Vongola>

*Uteriach steps out onto the place balcony, and is greeted with the cheering of a massive crowd*

Uteriach: "Thank you, thank you! It warms my heart to see you support a foreigner. As you know, I am a Dachori, what the galaxies call 'A Rider'. We rose to glory until we fell to oppression from the Vrai and their interests!"

*The crowd booed, for many of them knew what oppression was like. Some had experienced the Vrai regime themselves*

Uteriach: "But now, together, we have risen against the oppression of King Agnes Oncé! Together, Rider and Vongolan, we shall spread our revolution and bring liberation to the universe! WE STAND UNITED!"

*The crowd cheers and salutes Uteriach, cheering his name. They chant "We stand united"*

[Earth, 2025]
The Earth had been in chaos. Between the splitting of some countries, terrorist acts, a nuclear bomb from an unaffiliated group, posthumans gaining ground, and an unstable economy, it was becoming a dystopia. But today there was an announcement from the United Nations. Broadcast on the internet and through almost all public stations worldwide, the message was clear and simple:

"United Nations forces have captured the base of the posthuman terrorist group, "The Invictus Society," who have been behind several of attacks on world organizations since 2013. Examples are the Sudanese Nuclear Crisis, the Destruction of Chicago, The Chinese Food Crisis, and The Invasion of Demons in 2018, previously thought to be done by a cultist group, among other war crimes. Their leader, who's only moniker is "Nif," has been captured and will be put on trial for his war crimes."

The world was now much happier. Clearly, all of the problems of the past decade can now be put on blame by an underground group. They could throw all their hate at them. A rejoice for a unified hate by the underprivileged, and a laugh by the ones in the highest of orders.

The truth of the matter was much more complicated. While the group was involved in these incidents, they were never the cause. Nif and his allies had been working to expose a world-wide conspiracy, but along the way, had tried to save the world. Due to the betrayal of certain members and failures of other operations, they had failed. The UN soldiers, employed by the shadow cabinet of a new world order organization, had went to their base in Antarctica and massacred them. Nif had, in fact, died during the attack. This is not the story of his redemption, but his journey from the other side of the galaxy.

While his body was dead, his mind has transcended the entropy of afterlife, and his electromagnetic brainwaves rode the qi energy that bounded this universe and it's variant together. He was a full-blown water elemental at this point, so his body being gone was nothing new. However, the Qi Exorcists at the massacre were able to trap his connection to the planes and his own realm of Niflheim. They attempted to trap his mind, but it rode out unnoticed, as his friend, a light-controlling alien-human crossbreed, created a false electromagnetic radiation that would've been his mind, to trick the Exorcists.

And so Nif's mind was there, riding an unseen energy through the galaxy. It was going to the nearest place that had sentient life and a large aquatic biome. How alien it was, was irrelevant - his mind would adapt to understanding them regardless. The feeling was akin to his teleportation to another universe years ago.

He was unsure of where he would end up, but his will was all he had left.
-----------
[The Mosque of Flesh, Trilagon]
Trilagon, an oddity of a world for civilization. A high gravity world, colored in reds and purples with a pink skyline. The species are large and usually have trilateral symmetry, and their light bones make the species be known as "floating bricks,' on other worlds with lower gravity. Home of the Trilagons(not their actual names, but a name given to them by the galactic community), a race with a bizarre culture that cannot be aligned to any humanoid offspring type groups. They believe that one must eat the flesh of a sinner, and wear it as a shield to damn others who would harm them. They are well-known as assassins throughout the galaxy, but also for building and helping poor communities, for they feel that ones with the power to help, must. Due to the foreign nature of their communication, which is strobing morph pieces of flesh by their neck; they cannot push their religion and beliefs on others, for it is unable to be translated well-enough. What we know is what was stated above.
Trilagons were average of 25 feet tall, with trilateral symmetry. They had two arms on each side, with three fingers that had perfect symmetry, but only one leg on each side. Their eyes had a yellow sclera, and double hexagon irises that were connected, black in appearance. Their eyes saw in far more spectrums tan most other species, and the setup allowed them 360º vision. They have an exterior exoskeleton that ranges in the violet to blue range with red or magneta. Their internal flesh was rumored to be a gangre, mucus yellow. Ontop of it was there 3 pronged mouth, resembling a venus fly trap or some type of plant. They all had curled spikes that folded inwards when not in use, which could be used as weapons. Priests had larger spikes typically, and mounted on them was the flesh of enemies, to use as a shield. When it finally dried and fell off, the victim was thought to have been cleansed of their sins. Trilagons have no known gender or sex, and it is unknown how they reproduce, but someone theorize asexually by spores through the top.

The Trilagons' buildings are, obviously much larger than them. Their pillar buildings that extended from the ocean to the sky are marvelous to gaze upon. They are beautiful colors, but some parts appear to be colorless due to the unability of humans perceiving as many colors as they do. The grounds of their cities are flooded wetlands that they tromp upon, and all buildings are made out of biorganic structure from other dead Trilagons and creatures.

But it was here, at the Mosque of Flesh, was where Nif's mind first settled, after passing through several ships of other water-based organisms, but not enough for him to settle.

His mind was hit like a rock here. The concepts and ecosystem here were more alien than anything else he encountered. He had fought abstract concept elementals, number demons, and other bizarre things, but these things were still...human in one way or another. This place was not. He understood the morphogenic fields of the races in the oceans than anything the Trilagons had done.

And thus he rose from the water in the pool of the Mosque of Flesh, the pool being directly a gateway to the ocean. His form now the oddest he had taken, indigo flesh with red lines that illuminated his qi. He took a bipedal form and used coral as an armor, with crustacean locking. Strands of poisonous jellyfish tentacles were used as hair. His eyes had the double-irises of the Trilagons, but cyan-colored with white sclera instead of yellow. His appearance stunned the beings who were in the room, and they signaled for their being with the most experience outside of the world: Flesh-Eater. He had the ability to speak Basic, due to a device implanted into his neck to emit noise from the mouth ontop of it, one invented by an old priest to help with their missions.

"You..." he spoke in a low voice that echoed the chambers of the Mosque, with strong wind under it,"...Resemble the Elders of the stories. Your eyes...," Nif was vastly confused, but questioned it anyways. "Once again lost through escape...but where am I?" He asked, in a voice like Flesh-Eaters.

"The...Mosque of Flesh...for us....Trilagons." The pauses in it's speech were led by loud pants of breath, their race unaccustomed to speaking through voice. "Follow me...I have a mission...on a world by...humanoids." His arm flopped and pointed, motioning for him to follow.

"Thank you," he responded, politely.

The two walked towards the top of the Mosque, walking on the walls with suction-cup feet towards the top. A strange, strange world Nif had landed himself on. Hung on the walls were the flesh and bodies of dead sinners, hung on stonefish spikes that protruded from the wall. It was a surreal realm of dead to Nif, but he was amazed by the peace of it all, even if he didn't understand the reason for the tranquility. He felt the ecstasy of every step being a connection to the whole planet, due to the biorganic nature of it all. Sun peaked through and baked the flesh of the deceased through the

As they arrived to the top, it opened up outwards, giant fins hinging outwards for the exit. They walked across on the fins, and a giant manta-ray esque thing arrived for them to climb into. They slid through the translucent section of it, stepping on the interior organs of this beast. It was clearly in no pain. The inside of this beast was bloodied acid water, as the Trilagons were an amphibious race. "This is a...space manta to you...it is my ship. I will...take you to...my destination...Elder One," He seemed happy to speak to Nif, as if he was some being of importance.
"I am still not sure what you mean by Elder Ones. Care to explain?" Nif inquired. Flesh-Eater's eye that was watching him, while the other two and four arms managed the controls. "The Elders are an...ancient species that us...and others are the...results of. You have their...cyan eyes...and emit the same energy...their creations emit..." The ship began to move towards space.

"You mean my Qi? It is but a simple thing to me. Every race has it, it emits from the whole universe, much like background electromagnetic radiation," Nif began to relax in the internal water of this living ship.

"The life force of...everything...yes...that makes sense..." Flesh-Eater then shut his eyes. "I apologize...I can only talk...for so long...these muscles are...unused." His muscles in his neck stopped vibrating.

"Ah yes, that is fine. It is time for some rest for me. But one last question: Where are we going?"

His chords vibrated slowly and echoed; "Malchior IV." Nif was in shock. This was a planet in another universe he went to years ago, why would it be in his own? And developed?

<Tanari cruiser Walter P. Jackson>

Edward stood on the bridge of his brand-new flagship, feeling absolutely full of himself. A few years ago, he was a 'mere' General in the Tanari Army, a well-known war hero but never a real player on the galactic political stage. (He'd come close once, and if it weren't for that son of a bitch David Robert Jones, a coup wouldn't have been necessary, he thought to himself.) Now he was at the top of his career, undisputed ruler of the Tanari Confederation and about to meet Sefer Yetzirah, Emperor of the Takemikazuchi. He had never had a high opinion of the Takemikazuchi - they always reminded him of those weak, lily-livered Progressives back on his homeworld - but being on an equal footing with such a distinguished head of state fed his ego. Veras' words came back to gnaw at him - could he really stumble and fall like those failed conquerors of old? No, he believed, he was better than them, he knew where others had failed and he would avoid those same mistakes. This was just the beginning; soon, he would go down in history.

His musings came to an abrupt end when what looked like a ghost appeared in front of him without warning. It was a figure of a woman dressed in a long, flowing grey dress, her pale skin made even more so by the fact that she was a ghost, and therefore translucent. Her hair was carefully woven into a long ponytail, implausibly without a single lock out of place. Her eyes stared ahead blankly, making her seem just that little bit more unsettling. The few crew members who were not frozen by shock and fear immediately raised their weapons, but lowered them when Edward looked them in the eye, reassuring them.

"Artrix, you're supposed to be watching Veras." he finally said. "What are you doing here?"

"I am not here." Artrix said. "You know that by now. I'm here to report."

"Of course, trans-dimensional projection. Of course. Why here? You're scaring my crew!" Edward joked.

"They're going to war soon. There will be plenty more fear to come." Artrix shrugged. The crew members were now even more scared of this ghostly woman making ominous predictions. "Anyway, there is nothing to report. Veras seethes and idly plots against you, as you would in their place."

"Of course he is..." Edward shook his head.

"But," Artrix continued. "nothing will come of it. Veras is angry, but there is nothing they can do about it."

"Alright then. Keep me informed as to what he's up to."

Artrix nodded and disappeared, leaving the crew to stare in shock at the spot where she had appeared a moment ago until Edward growled "Get back to work." He made a note to himself to have the entire bridge crew reassigned to asteroid mining, now that they had seen too much.

---

<Conference planet>

After stepping off the cruiser, Edward immediately made his way to the compound where the summit was to take place. It was exquisitly decorated - diplomatic staff from both the Confederation and the Takemikazuchi Empire had arrived weeks earlier to prepare for the visit, and the entire building was decorated with art and flowers from Shangri-La as well as from the Tanari homeworld. The curtains had patterns representing the flags of both empires (which Allman privately thought was tacky, but it was too late to change anything), and of course, the whole building was spotless. Meanwhile, the nearby forest was carefully but discreetly patrolled, in case one of the heads of state decided to go for a walk.

He entered the grand hall of the building, where diplomatic protocol demanded he greet the Emperor before the meeting could begin.

-----

<Malchior IV>

Jones and Aster did not hear the knocking, as they were on the other side of the church and behind a wall to boot. The figure, who apparently could not read signs, would have to either open the damn door themselves, or go away and leave the apparently soon-to-be-demolished abandoned church alone.

---

"Look, I'm sorry, Aster. I just thought that if anyone found out about this, it might get back to Allman." Jones said.

Aster pouted. "Yes, but it's me. I would never blab. You should fucking know that by now." she said, ignoring Jones when he glared at her in lieu of telling her off about her language. She decided to change the subject. "I think we need to dump this location. When... if" she corrected, more to reassure herself than anything else. "he figures out you're not dead, we can't still be here. We'll start packing tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Jones scratched his head. "Klak will still be here. We can't leave that boy yet I see potential in him. If I'm right, we may need him to stop Allman."

"Allman... He should've been stopped when you blocked his nomination. I wish he'd gotten the message then." she sighed, plopping down into an armchair.

"True tyrants will stop at nothing, Aster. That's why other people have to do it for them."

Jones decided to go to bed. While his injuries had healed perfectly, he was still exhausted, and anyway he had come to appreciate the privilege that was being able to go to sleep early instead of having to participate in an all-night vote or sit through yet another filibuster.

---

<Malchior IV, the next day>

The man laughed, and took a single step in Klak's direction to show that he was unbothered by the pistol. "Of course you won't kill me! I know you. You're police, and I haven't done nothing!" he said. "You're a good guy, just like Aster and old man Jones said. Goodbye, bro. We'll meet again soon, unfortunately."

Suddenly, the man in the hoodie seemed to turn into a silver statue, completely immobile, and then began to change shape and shrink. Soon, the man had turned into a pigeon, which promptly flew away, leaving Klak alone with his thoughts.

<Malchior IV, Church>

*The figure bursts through the door, and teleports to David Robert Jones' quarters. It raises its arm, and several blue runes appear around his bed. The runes start to glow, and the figure appears to say something in its native language. The mysterious individual disappears.*

---

<Malchior IV, the next day>

*Klak is mystified. Just a minute ago, he had thrown a knife at this man, and now, he was saying that Klak was a good man. He shook his head, and made his way to the café. He greets his friends, and sits down after a few minutes of small talk.*

Klak: Take a look at this.

*Klak pulls out a small, folded piece of paper. He unfolds it, revealing a map*

Klak: Our city is just three miles away from the Bangadore Plains. The temple is underground in the middle of the plains, where we found that strange rock. We'd have to find the entrance, which apparently is so hidden that nobody's been able to find it. Nadle, what do you think?

*Nadle is 56 year old white man with a slightly wrinkled face, a white mustache, and slicked back white hair. His black eyes widen.*

Nadle: "Look, Klak, finding this entrance is unlikely. We set out on this journey in vain."

*Bob shakes his head and smiles. He is a young black man with chiseled features and hazel eyes, and is around the same age as Klak.*

Bob: "No, we can do this! The three of our minds put together can figure this thing out."

*Klak smiles*

Klak: All in?

Bob: "All in!"

*Nadle hesitates, then smiles.*

Nadle: "All in."

< Tanari-Takemikazuchi Conference >

Sefer materialized within one of the lounges running off from the grand hall. Though she hadn't changed her outfit as Shortman requested, she (or, rather, Lilith) had sorted her hair out; everything past the front of her ears had been loosely pulled back into a ponytail, secured in place by two simple, oriental-style pins in a cross shape. Though it was by no means a formal hairstyle, the mere fact of its departure from her signature style (or lack thereof) would hopefully humble, or at the least, intrigue Allman. She fiddled with it momentarily before sliding her hands into her pockets, and entering the hall. Allman stood across from her, waiting.

"President Allman." she called out, as she walked towards him. Truthfully, she thought little of the man. He was just the latest iteration in a long line of dictators which seemed to spring up across the galaxy like weeds in a cracked, dilapidated pavement. He represented everything she despised about the old order; primarily, that one idea that she detested, in which the people should serve their leader, as opposed to the other way round. So, if it wouldn't have sparked one of the bloodiest conflicts the galaxy would ever see, she would've gladly leveled the entire complex with her mind, with him still inside it. Still, Allman was dangerous, and she knew it would be unwise for her to underestimate him.

"It's good to finally make your acquaintance." she said, extending her hand.

<Conference Planet>

The Tenari Guard strutted down the path, his compact rifle bouncing against his shoulder. He could see his Takemikazuchi equivalent headed for him; the two would meet, salute, then turn one-hundred and eighty degrees and patrol back in the other direction. He sighed, realizing that his tight collar was chafing as his neck swell slightly in the heat of the afternoon sun. His lower back was damp with sweat, and his nose itched, but he couldn't scratch it until he had turned away from the Takemikazuchi guard, who was- not there. The Tenari took a step forward, leaning to look down the path, to the left and right. A sharp blow connected with the back of his neck, and he sprawled in the dirt, before the blade of a sword cut down into his throat. He emitted a low gurgle, blood pooling under him. Over his body stood Sergeant Buster "8-Ball" Breaker, dressed in dark green military fatigues and a leather jacket, sans its arms. A cigar dropped hot ash onto the dying guard's face; Breaker removed it from his mouth and blew a cloud of smoke out into the still, warm air. He rubbed the blood from the tip of his sabre with the Tenari's coattail before motioning to the dark woods behind him.

A large man emerged from the bushes, sweat running in rivulets down his camo'd face. His black skin shone in the dappled sunlight as he dragged the Tenari's body into the undergrowth. He emerged a minute later carrying a large black leather bag. Corporal Cassius "Callcard" Calm stood next to Breaker and watched as Edward Allman's entourage pulled up in gleaming silver speedcars outside the executive mansion. Calm swiveled at the sound a twig snapping behind him, to be met with the point of a bowie-knife at his throat. Over the blade he could see the daring grin of Corporal Dreis "Dutch" Bright. The younger man lowered the knife, and threw down a bag similar to Calm's.

The trio stood patiently on the path for more than an hour before Captain Dallas Dalton strode toward them, emerging from the woods as though some mystical creature. He wore a cream linen suit over a Hawaiian shirt, unbottoned to the middle chest; a small golden cross glinted from the folds of the cloth. Over this was draped a long black mac; he wore the coat without putting his arms in the sleeves, but rather as a cloak. His hands were concealed within black driving gloves. He was around six feet tall, with a slick blonde perm and aviator sunglasses. He had a crooked, thin smile, and a crooked, thin nose. The assembled trio threw a sharp salute, to which Dallas Dalton responded with a lazy toss of his hand to his brow. He pointed with a gloved hand to the bags; Calm unbuttoned both, unrolling them and displaying their contents. Concealed within was a startling array of weaponry; all of it was polished and oiled, but looked battle worn. Bright's bag also yielded a smaller bag containing multiple magazine in varying calibres. Dallas Dalton nodded at the armoury, seemingly satisfied. Breaker stepped over to the slender Captain.

"Allman is in the building. We can only assume Yetzirah 'ported over," he said in a hushed whisper. Dalton nodded curtly before crouching and taking a two-way radio from the bag. He pulled out the aerial and thumbed on the switch; he was met with static.

"This is Dallas. You're in position?"

The response came from the radio a moment later. "Yessir, I am." Though muffled by the poor quality, the South-African accent of Corporal Gareth "Bach" Holbach was unmistakeable.

<Tanari-Takemikazuchi Conference>

"Emperor Yetzirah!" Edward smiled, shaking Sefer's hand firmly, but not too firmly. "Delighted to meet you."

He wasn't. Even if she was incredibly attractive, and thus impossibly to completely loathe, he thought Sefer represented everything he hated; he thought she was weak, self-servingly liberal, unwilling to stand up for her empire and proclaim its greatness for the galaxy to see. The Takemikazuchi could rule the galaxy with an iron fist if they wanted to, instead they languished within Shangri-La. He would not be like them, oh no.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you ever since I... became president." Edward hesitated. "Shall we begin now? Or would you rather rest before we begin with the agenda?"

-----

<Malchior IV>

The next day, David Robert Jones and Aster awoke, unaware that the figure had even visited them.

A middle-aged Asian woman sat at the table next to Klak, Nadle, and Bob, sipping a latte and playing with her phone. Unbeknownst to them, she was listening in on their conversation.

She suddenly received a text, and interrupted her game to read it. It was from her friend, Richard. "Hey Aster are you alright?" She replied briefly "Yes".
"Watch urself" was Richard's response, followed by "He held me at gunpoint. He knows were watching"

Aster swore under her breath, and put the phone back in her purse. This guy better be worth the trouble, she thought.

Yenot exits the building, but hangs back to speak with Veras, "May I have a word with you?" His tone indicating it wouldn't be a waste of time.

< Tanari-Takemikazuchi Conference >

Sefer slid her hand back into her pocket. "No, let's start now. Here, actually."

Perhaps Allman had been expecting a conventional, 'sitting across from one another at a table' style of diplomatic discussion, but if so, he had entirely misinterpreted Sefer Yetzirah. A nearby window sill was wide enough for her to sit on, which she did, drawing her outside leg up and onto it with her, her arms resting crossed on her knee, her back resting against the side of the frame. The golden glow of the setting sun filtered in through the window, serving as a dramatic backdrop - one which Sefer was entirely aware highlighted the side profile of her figure for Allman's inspection. In truth, she had chosen the window sill because it was the one place she could sit without offering Allman the opportunity to sit down as well, but if the sight of her legs threw him off too, then that worked to her advantage just as well. Everything in the world is about sex, she thought, except sex. Sex is about power.

She turned to the window, gazing out into the woods beyond. "We're here to discuss the relationship between the Tanari and the Takemikazuchi." she began. "The simple fact is, there isn't one. And it's in our best interests to make sure that one never comes to exist."

She looked back to him. "Our two states are fundamentally incompatible systems. The Takemikazuchi forsake personal advantage in pursuit of the greater good. I would suggest that the Tanari present the inverse, but truthfully, I don't believe you have even the slightest concern for the greater good. Forced to coexist in the same environment, no equilibrium could ever be reached. One would end up attempt to assert their dominance over the other, and then soon, there would be no 'other'. Only absolute dominance, and a trillion dead souls savoring every benefit our coexistence would have to offer."

Perhaps she had struck one too many nerves, or perhaps Allman had not expected Sefer to be so passionately vocal, but regardless, he made no immediate attempt to reply.  She looked back to the window.

"The only solution, then, is not to interact. I have no interest in either being friends with you, or being allied with your people. That much, I imagine, you knew before you set foot in this room. But I have no interest in fighting you, Allman. Make no mistake; I despise you, your administration, and everything you represent. I despise this sham of a diplomatic meeting. I despise the Tanari Confederation." she said, turning back to him. Her red eyes locked sight with his. "Fuck the Tanari Confederation."

She looked up to the roof, her trademark smirk materializing. "There. You've just witnessed the fullest extent of the opposition I'll offer to you and your people. I have no interest in fighting you, Allman. In spite of all I've just said, I despise war even more. The galaxy will never be free of it, but as long as I am Emperor, perhaps one system can be. So, do as you wish; the rest of the galaxy is yours. But do not come anywhere near Shangri-La. Doing so shall herald the fall of your little empire, and the end of your life."

She looked back to him, out of the corners of her eyes. "Do we have an understanding?"

<Malchior IV>

OOS: Switching the style up a bit.

Klak, Nadle, and Bob set out on a futuristic hovercraft, unaware that they were being watched. An hour later, they were in the middle of Bangadore Plains. Bob stopped the vehicle near a strange rock formation that jutted out of the ground. They all emerged, and looked around.

Klak: This is it. Let's start looking.

They all began to stomp the ground, hoping to find a hollow surface. Suddenly, they heard the sound of a spacecraft getting nearer and nearer to them.

Nadle: "We have some unwanted guests. Hide!"

They dropped to the ground and hid in the tallgrass. The shuttle landed, and out of it stepped Figlio di Armechio, who wore pink and white battle armor. He was accompanied by two Vongolan soldiers that wore black military fatigues and yellow armbands. They were armed with laser guns that looked similar to TAR-21 rifles.

Klak: Who the hell is that?

Nadle: "No idea. They don't look Malchiorian, and I don't recognize the insignias on the uniforms of those guards."

Figlio walked up to the mysterious rock, and inserted a small object into one of its holes. The rock appeared to come to life as lights emanated from it. The ground in front of Figlio's feet suddenly started to move, revealing an entrance to the underground abandoned temple.

Figlio frowned, and turned his head to face Bob's hovercraft.

Figlio: "Someone is here. Find them, and terminate them."

Figlio jumped into the hole before him, and landed on a platform a few feet below. The platform was attached to a series of tan stairs that led down to the temple's antechamber. He descended down into the abyss.

Klak: We should follow him, and stop him from obtaining the ship.

Nadle: "Are you insane? We don't know who he is, we have no idea what he's capable of."

One of the Vongolan guards searched Bob's hovercraft. He kicked after he finished, and laughed.

Bob: "Dang it, and I just had it waxed. That son of a-"

Klak: Shh. On three, we attack them. One, two....

Using his cybernetic augmentations, Klak was able to speed up to one of the guards, slamming his knee against his chest. The Vongolan collapsed to the ground, drifting into unconsciousness. The other guard yelled and was about to shoot Klak when Bob slammed his fist into his face. Nadle quickly came behind him, and kicked him to the ground. Once both guards were dispatched, Bob and Nadle grabbed their rifles. Klak pulled out his pistol, and pointed at the entrance to the temple with his chin. Bob followed with glee as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Nadle rolled his eyebrows, and accompanied his longtime friends.

After making it down the flight of stairs, Klak and co. found themselves inside of the antechamber. The marble floors were tinted with crimson, and the room was lit by two balls of orange flame housed in large stone goblets on both sides of the room. Behind each goblet were glass coffins filled with a strange ultramarine gel. Nadle could see humanoid figures encased within the coffins. One was a purple avian creature, while the other was a metal behemoth. Elaborate tapestries decorated the walls, each describing battles and heroic feats of heroes of a dead civilization in a language lost to time.

Figlio creeped out of the shadows, and charged at Klak, swinging his sword towards his arm. In a split second, Nadle fired his gun at the Rider, knocking him back.

Figlio: "Who might you be?! What brings you here?!"

Klak: My name is Klak, and I'm here to find the Craft of Laigula, the ancient artefact owned by the Riders. Who wants to know?!

Figlio, still in a battle stance, grinned.

Figlio: "Oooh, yes. Legends say it was a mighty ship that saw many wars. It's older than the human settlement on Malchior IV itself. They say the Riders, or the Dachori as they were once known, hid it during their war with the Vrai. A weapon like that falling into the wrong hands would be...unspeakable."

Nadle: "Why would you want it?"

Figlio: "None of your concern, my friend. I intend to borrow it. It's a gift for my father, you see. He just got a big promotion! But getting rid of witnesses? That's me treating myself."

Figlio charged at Klak and the others.

<Tanari-Takemikazuchi Conference>

Edward's eyes could have popped out of their sockets right there and then, so utterly bewildered he was at the speech he had just heard. He wasn't the only one; all around them guards and diplomatic staff (at least those from the Confederation) looked on in stunned silence, and the flagbearer was so utterly shocked that he actually let the giant flag of the Takemikazuchi Empire he was struggling to hold up slip out of his hands and fall.

Finally, Allman collected his thoughts and replied. "Oh, we have an understanding. I have no intention of waging war on your empire. We have enough spineless faggots in the Confederation as it is without adding any of you." he growled. "Go and play in your fucking shining city on the hill, Yetzirah, I don't need nor want it."

With that, he turned around and stormed out, leaving a gaggle of utterly bewildered Tanari government officials to slowly follow him out. As he approached the cruiser, Allman walked over to an aide and whispered in her ear. "Get the names of every single person we sent here and see to it that they're reassigned to some god-forsaken ice moon or something. Anywhere where the alien press can't get to them." "Yes, Mr. President."

-----

<Malchior IV>

Klak and his friends failed to notice two ordinary birds following them to the rock formation. They landed not far away, in a spot from which they could watch Klak, Nadle, and Bob. They observed their capture from afar, and wondered if they should do anything about it.

"Should we help them?" Richard asked Aster, via a form of telepathy which their kind used to communicate amongst themselves.

"That guy looks shady..." Aster thought. "It would certainly help build goodwill."

Aster and Richard flew over to the hole in the ground and shape-shifted back into their human forms. Aster took an alien-looking gun out of her pocket, and so did Richard. They jumped into the hole, and walked halfway down the flight of stairs, stopping to briefly assess the situation. Aster nodded, and the two shape-shifters ran into the antechamber and, without a word, opened fire on Figlio.

<Malchior IV, Hidden Temple>

Figlio yelled and ran into the shadows, barely dodging the bullets.

Klak: What the?!

He looked up, and recognized Richard.

Klak: Hmm, glad to see you could join us.

Nadle: "Who are they?!"

Klak: One of them has been following me around for the past few hours. He disappeared briefly, but it looks like he caught up with us.

Bob: "Grave robbers?"

Klak: No, they would have shot us already. They're trying to protect us!

Figlio suddenly pops out of the shadows, and slashes Bob's back. He yells in pain and falls to the ground. Figlio then enters into a fistfight with Nadle, and shortly knocks him out.

Figlio: "Let's make this more even, shall we?"

Figlio rushed at Klak and grabbed onto him. He struggled, but soon found himself being held hostage by the Dachori. Figlio turned around, and looked intently at Aster and Richard.

Figlio: "Leave, or I'll end him."

Klak: Gah, if they leave you'll still kill me.

Figlio: "Good point! Either way, you die, unless you exit the temple and act as though none of this ever happened. This is something far beyond your understanding, boy. You are an insect attempting to grapple with a behemoth."

---

<Vongola, Parliament Building>

The Vongolan Global Assembly was in uproar. Nearly a day after their coup, Uteriach and the revolutionaries had asked for greater funding for military programs. Additionally, they had already drafted their own constitution without parliamentary input.

Delegate Sipati: "This is an outrage! You are attempting to push us out of the new government for the Vongolan people, and you are planning on bleeding our coffers dry! Such madness on the part of 'Uteriatch' and his allies must be stopped! Ergo, I propose we sign our veto of the new constitution, and develop our own!"

He was met with cheers from several of his fellow dignitaries. The Chairman slammed the gavel on his podium.

Chair: "Decorum! DECORUM! Next speaker is Generalissimo Uteriach di Armechio."

Uteriach stood, his stoic visage staring down at his opposition.

Uteriach: "It is interesting that Delegate Sipati is expressing such outrage at a convenient moment in time. Had the King still been in power, all of you would have happily complied with my measure. You see, the ugly truth of this is that the parliament is worth nothing, on Vongola. Sure, the monarchs instilled some reforms over time and gave you minor powers to appease the oppressed masses. They even let you have a semblance of the power of the purse! But in reality? You all feared the kings and queens. None of you had the guts to stand up to him, to stand for your constituents. You were all swayed by fear. You see, you have admitted to the citizens of Vongola what true power is. 'Political power grows out of the barrel of the gun.' When you control the gun, then you control all power. But there exists another dimension to it: ideological power. We, the leaders of the most glorious revolution in centuries, control both."

Several delegates began to murmur amongst themselves.

Uteriach: "So you will pass the funding, and accept the constitution. You will do as we say, when we say it. Your punishment? Well, Oncé has been exiled, and all those who oppose us will join him. You, in effect, are a useless rubber stamp of a bygone era. You may think yourselves as guardians of democracy, as heroes who will lead Vongola out of the days of kings and into the days of parliamentary regimes. But you are all cowards and fools who can be manipulated like sheep. You aren't anything like real democracy. I will show you what true democracy looks like."

The Guards of the Assembly opened the doors to the parliamentary chambers. Crowds of people of varying backgrounds poured into the assembly, all wearing yellow armbands and chanting "We stand united!". Most of the delegates looked on in confusion, while the more astute and wizened members realized what had just occurred. Uteriach had effectively taken control of the Vongolan Global Assembly. The revolution was complete.

The crowds continued chanting. Some cheered once they saw Uteriach.

Uteriach: "And it's pronounced 'Uteriak', not 'Uteriatch'."

He calmly sat down in the midst of the commotion, and smiled.

---

<Malchior IV, Control City>

Keichi thanked his lucky stars that he and Treskis were under an umbrella. The Malchiorian rains would have surely rusted up his armor. He groaned impatiently.

Keichi: “Where the hell is it?!”

Treskis: “Be patient. You want us to gain an edge over Ozar, Yon, and the other Pirate Lords, yes?”

Keichi: “Yeah.”

Treskis: “And that means we should consider making trade deals with the Red Lady herself. So, we’ll find her hideout, and speak to her.”

Keichi cursed in the Liquid Metalliconite language, and nodded.

< Conference World >

Sefer smirked as Allman left, and slid off the window sill, brushing off her behind. The Takemikazuchi officials stood resolute, though one had left his position to pick up and fold the fallen Takemikazuchi flag. Sefer walked over to him, and gestured for her to hand him the flag; he did, and she tucked it under her arm.

"If it's not too much trouble, could you take a message to the chef?"

"Of course, Emperor Yetzirah."

"I'd like him to prepare two meals. Poached sea bass with tagliatelle, and I'll have... uh, chow mein. Plain. No mushrooms. I'll be at the east promenade bar."

The staffer nodded, and walked off. Sefer left the hall, sauntering through the complex. The Tanari guards had left the complex, but the Takemikazuchi soldiers were still present, standing motionless in pairs by seemingly every door. Sefer Yetzirah was the only head of state they did not salute. It was by her own request, of course. Sefer had never taken to the trappings of leadership - the respect apparently owed to her, the etiquette and diplomatic form required, and even the uncomfortable, unflattering clothing she was expected to wear. As such, she had done away with them all. Perhaps one might see such actions as those of a weak leader not willing to give their all to their nation, but Sefer had accomplished more in six years than most leaders willing to wear a suit and tie would in their whole lives. As such, most of her populace couldn't care less what she wore, or whether her soldiers were suppose to salute her or not.

And so, that was Sefer Yetzirah. A girl with no childhood, and no family, who existed for one purpose; to serve a group of people who only cared about her to the extent of asking how well she could serve them. A girl who devoted her entire life to one arbitrary, assigned pursuit to escape from her own emptiness and the realization that, in all likelihood, she had no real desire to be alive - save for the fact of the existence of an incredibly beautiful blonde-haired girl with whom she was entirely in love with, and an inherent fear of her own death, which even prolonged exposure to the fruit of life itself had yet to resolve into something more purposeful.

Sefer exited a corridor, emerging in the east promenade bar. It was open to the outside, and when she sat down at the bar, the back of her neck was exposed to the warmth of the sun. It felt fucking good, to be honest. The bartender slid over to her, polishing a glass in his hands.

"I'll have a gin and tonic," she said, looking over shoulder at the uninhabited bar. "And a bourbon on the rocks for Dallas Dalton."

---

< Kyras >

Ascheron entered his lounge, throwing off his cloak and tossing it over the back of one of his armchairs. Looking up, he saw a figure sat across one of his sofas, a golden chalice filled to the brim with a deep, red wine in one of his hands.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" asked Ascheron, storming over to his desk. The figure chuckled.

"Oh, Ascheron. That's no way to address a close friend."

The speaker was a man, seemingly in his early 20s, and possessed of extraordinary personal beauty which marked him out as being very obviously more than just a man. His black hair fell, elegantly, half way down to his shoulders, and he had noble features; a fine, thin brow, thin lips and a sharp, defined jawline. Most notable were his eyes; a reddish-purple, and unwavering in the intensity of their gaze. He wore a suit, consisting of a black longcoat and waistcoat, with dark grey trousers and a blood-red cravat. Yet, beyond all physical description, what was most alluring was the undeniable presence of the figure; even in absolute silence he commanded attention in a way that Ascheron, for all his speeches, could never hope to.

Ascheron stood by his desk, ready to offer a rebuttal; then, suddenly, his vision focused on the chalice in the man's hand.

"Is that...?"

"Oh?" said the man, holding the cup up to eye level, as if he was not already aware of its appearance. A wry smile took hold on his face. "You think such an artifact exists within the treasury of Malak Al-Maut?"

Ascheron cleared his mind of the subject. "I'll ask again. Why are you here?"

Malak stood up, stepping elegantly over to Ascheron, and leaning on the edge of the desk opposite him. "I have thought long and hard about you, Gabriel, since our first meeting. I have arrived at a conclusion; you are someone who interests me."

"I will have nothing to do with such intrigue."

"Then fall upon your sword where you stand." he replied, firmly. "A man like you is drawn to intrigue like moths to a flame. Or, perhaps, it is the intrigue that is drawn to you. Regardless, it is central to your being. For someone such as myself who lives for such intrigues, you are an act of providence." he added, circling slowly and sensuously around the desk, until he stood behind Ascheron's back. "If I gave you a weapon capable of destroying the Ta'har Empire, would you use it for such a purpose?"

"Of course."

"And then, after that?"

"...I will not be a slave to your ambitions, Malak."

"Oh?" replied Malak, closing in on Ascheron. He ran a hand along the small of Ascheron's back. "Make no mistake, Gabriel. I may place pieces on the board every now and then, and perhaps I have been known to shift one or two about on occasion, but do not fool yourself into believing that I am playing the game. I am merely observing. In my experience, such is the better role to occupy."

"And... which piece are you planning to add now?"

Malak smiled. "The Treasury of Malak Al-Maut is bountiful and endless. The loss of one artifact shall not impact it - this rings even truer if its usage in this reality creates such entertainment. I shall give one of my favored artifacts to you. Do with it as you please; it is all yours. Your payment shall come through the intrigue you carve with it, for I live for such things. There are no other terms to my offer."

"Then... I accept your terms, Malak."

Malak spun out from behind Ascheron, placing his chalice to Ascheron's desk. The man ran his hands through the air, the base outline of a sword appearing in glowing golden light that filled the room. Ascheron's eyes widened with excitement as the legendary weapon materialized, the runes running across the flat of the blade glowing even brighter than the energy the sword had been materialized by. Carving elegant motions with his slender fingers to draw forth the blade from his treasury, Malak looked up to Ascheron, smiling wryly at the look on his new apprentice's face.

"Please," replied Malak, the glow subsiding as he handed the blade to Ascheron. "Call me... Naju."

<Control City Red Light District, Palace of the Red Queen>

Cassandra's lips curled up in a smirk as she read Vance's promise.  "A surprise, Vangelis.  I did not take you for one who would swear loyalty so easily.  Indeed-"  She raised her finger, a red glow surrounding her delicate hands.  "With so much pomp and circumstance, one would think you taking me for a fool.  I put no stock in contracts, nor in words."

She flicked her wrist, and Vance's own blood faded from the contract - drawn away from it by Cassandra's magics.  In addition, more of his blood from the floor began to rise, red mist swirling together to form a single drop, suspended like a blood-red marble in the air above Cassandra's finger.  "What I do take stock in," she said, "is blood."  The droplet lengthened and thinned, forming into a small, thin, and curved blade.  A flash and another subtle flick of her wrist, and the paper Vance gave her fell to the floor, cleft in twain.  "And this, Vance Vangelis, this is much more binding than any paper contract or empty oath ever could be."

She flicked the drop to the side, Ophelia deftly stepping out to capture it within an ornate glass vial.  "Now, to business.  To prove your loyalty and skill, I will ask you on a dangerous mission.  Fail, and I will not look kindly upon your presence here."

"As for your duty," she continued, "it is a simple matter.  I wish for you to have the president of Malchior IV killed."  A wicked smile crossed her face.  "Now tell me, Vance - are you the man of daring I take you for?  Or is that all pointless bluster?"

---

<Tanari Executive Building>

Veras raised an eyebrow, a bemused expression on their smooth face.  "Oh?" they asked.  "What takes the great Yenot to talk to a foolish old one such as I?"

<Tanari cruiser Walter P. Jackson>

As the cruiser sped away from the conference planet, many of its crew and passengers feeling very concerned about their future, Allman sat down behind his desk in his private quarters and began to compose a message for his new recruit, Azrael.

"Azrael the Darkened,
When you joined my side, I promisd I would assign you a mission to test your loyalty and competence before you can fully enter my service. And I have found just the thing.

Your task shall be to travel to the planet Corrantia, home to a prosperous trading nation, more specifically its capital city, Makaul, which is overlooked by a grand fortress. You will slip into the fortress unnoticed, and you will attempt to find and murder a certain Colonel Rakozuliyev. This man is a former military attaché to the Tanari Confederation, and may possess some compromising information regarding its defences. The person who delivers this message to you will include a file with more information on the fortress and on your target.

Best wishes and good luck,
Allman"

As soon as he finished the message and sent it to the aide who would later deliver it to Azrael, the cruiser stopped, and the comm buzzed into life. "Mr. President, be advised, there is a Pirate Lord vessel in this system. Are you sure-"

"Yes, I'm sure." Edward moaned. "That's who we're here to meet." He put on his coat, and charged on over to the bridge.

-----

<Malchior IV>

Aster did not immediately respond to Figlio, choosing instead to examine the situation. Richard began to move forward, preparing to fire, but Aster held out her hand to stop him.

"Sorry, but you don't even realise how not even this is." she said, and winked at Figlio. She stretched out her arm, which seemed to melt away into a shapeless, semi-liquid blob, and then formed into a long tentacle, reaching across the room. Gritting her teeth in pain and focusing, she wrapped the end around Figlio's leg, and sharply tugged.

<Malchior IV, Control City Red Light District, Palace of the Red Queen>

Treskis and Keichi knocked on the palace doors.

---

<Pirate Lord Ozar's Ship>

Ozar sat in the captain's chair and calmly stared into space. He had been patiently waiting for Edward Allman, as they had scheduled an appointment with each other.

The Tanari leader had recently taken control of a government that was once hostile to all Pirate Lords. The times were changing, meaning that Ozar had the opportunity to be the first Pirate Lord to, as he put it, "invest" in Tanari's criminal underbelly.

Ozar's First Mate, Fourteen, leaned against one of the walls on the ship's bridge.

Fourteen: "((to himself)) When are they gonna bloody get here?"

---

<Malchior IV, Hidden Temple>

Figlio's eyes widened as he was dragged away by the tentacle. He laughed, and swung his sword at it, effectively freeing himself.

Figlio: "A shape-shifter! How surprising! This is getting interesting....like a game! Let's play a game! Rule number one...."

Figlio threw a small grenade at Aster and Richard. White smoke emerged from it, blocking their view of the others.

Figlio: "Be prepared for anything!"

He rushed at Klak, and nearly stabbed him with his sword, but the augmented human was able to move out of the way.

Figlio: "Pretty fast for a human!"

Klak leaped towards Figlio, and kicked him in the leg, causing him to stagger.

Klak: Likewise for....whatever you are.

Nadle raised himself off of the ground with his arms. He was slowly getting up. His black eyes stared up at Figlio with disgust.

Nadle: "He's a Rider. It all makes sense now. I thought you had all died out."

Figlio: "Correct answer! You're a perceptive one, aren't you? There are still a few of us left. And this...this all ours....by birthright. Now, I was a fetus when this ship was hidden, but my father taught me some of the Dachori's language. The walls speak prophecies of a great warrior in shining armor who will come and restore the Riders to greatness, a new Rider Empire for a new age. The rest speaks about balance between order and chaos, but that's just mumbo jumbo. Anyway, the great warrior is here, and his empire is coming. The Craft of Laigula will lead us to glory!"

The Rider leaped into the air and threw a blast of energy at Klak, knocking him away. He slammed into a nearby pillar, and grunted in pain. Klak attempted to stand up, but Figlio was soon in front of him with his sword aimed at the former's neck.

Klak: You know about the stories behind this place, so you must know of the Nish'Gek curse! Something is wrong with the Craft of Laigula, terribly wrong.

Figlio: "Pfft, you actually believe in such superstition?"

Klak: No, but I was hoping you did. You are a follower of their false prophecy, after all.

Figlio: "There is superstition, and there is hidden truth. Pity it's at your end that you learn th-"

Nadle screamed at Figlio and ran towards him. The Rider was surprised and turned around to face his foe. Klak used his speed augmentation to rush up to them both and tackle Figlio to the ground. However, he was blasted away by one of Figlio's fireballs, generated using special equipment.

Figlio: "That's ENOUGH!"

He rushed over to the door to the main chamber, and placed his hand on the door. The smoke blocking Aster and Richard's view had suddenly cleared up. Klak looked back with widened and anxious eyes.

Klak: You, shoot him! Stop him before he-

The doors to the main chamber opened. The room's darkness concealed everything from view. Suddenly, a vaporous mass emerged from the darkness and filled the room. A ghastly wail filled the ears of everyone in the room. The flames of the goblets of fire changed to a pale green color. The wailing was replaced by a deep voice uttering phrases in a language neither of them could comprehend. The language then transitioned to one only Figlio could somewhat understand, an older form of the Dachori's tongue. Bob's return to consciousness was met by this horrifying sight.

The mass concentrated itself to the roof of the antechamber, appearing to look at everyone below. It began to speak in the common language of everyone in the room.

???: "Who disturbs the slumber of the Nish'Gek?"

Figlio: "We do, the seekers of the Craft of Laigula!"

???: "An ambitious goal woefully undermined by the presence of my curse. What are your names? I must find you worthy."

Nadle: "I am Nadle."

Bob: "I-I'm Bob."

Figlio: "I am Figlio di Armechio, and you will move out of my way!"

???: "BE SILENT! WHAT ARE YOUR NAMES?!"

Aster, Richard, and Klak all feel as though they are being glared at by the mass.

< Conference Planet >

Dalton sauntered through the halls of the Conference complex, whistling softly to himself. He'd assumed Sefer would detect his presence, and had set about looking for her after Holbach had reported the all clear for Tenari staff. His black boots clacked slightly as he walked; he had metal caps fitted to his heels simply because he liked the sound. The halls were ghostly empty, even with the stony faced Takemikazuchi guards standing at each doorway. Dalton passed a large set of French windows overlooking a veranda; stood next to the outside bar was Sefer Yetzirah. Dalton plucked a single flower, an orchid, from an arrangement on a lacquered table, and opened the doors, striding toward her. She looked toward him, and he wasn't sure her expression was one of boredom or bemusement. He ran one thin finger along the length of the bar until he stood a pace away from Sefer, before offering the orchid with a slight flourish.

"Dallas Dalton, at your service." He swept the glass of bourbon from the bar and downed it, slamming the glass down. The bartender moved to fill it but Dalton covered it with his hand, winking at him from behind his aviators. "You were expecting me? I'm touched."

<Ozar's ship>

A hologram of Edward Allman appeared in front of Ozar and Fourteen. "Greetings, pirates. My apologies for this... impersonal manner of communicating, but I think it would be wiser if we both remained on our ships."

The hologram 'walked' across the bridge, still looking Ozar in the eye. "I arranged this meeting because I wish to propose an alliance between our forces. In time, I may require the services of you and your pirates, when I don't want a certain act to be tracked back to me. You would be compensated for this, of course - in cold, hard cash." he said, suspecting it would entice the pirate. "What do you say, Pirate Lord Ozar?"

-----

<Malchior IV>

Aster growled in pain, and quickly withdrew her tentacle, which soon shape-shifted back into her arm. She and Richard pulled out their guns again and prepared to fire at Figlio again, but the smoke from the grenade stopped them.

When the smoke had cleared up, the two got ready to shoot again, but were stopped again by the Nish'Gek. As it demanded their names, they slowly lowered their weapons.

"I'm Aster, and I'm here with my friend Richard." Aster introduced herself. "We have no interest in your Craft! We are here only to help our friends."

"Yeah!" Richard picked up from Aster. "The only person here who's 'unworthy' is the crazy guy in armour over there! He just tried to kill them for no reason! So, O great being, if you have any magic voodoo powers, which I must presume you do, I beg of you to use them to strike that man down and let us and our friends leave unharmed!" he dragged on bombastically, while Aster looked at him, her eyebrows raised as if to say "Seriously?"

"You're fucking crazy." she told him telepathically.

"Worth a try." Richard shrugged, not realising that to the others, it would look like he was shrugging for no reason at all.

<Ozar's ship>

Pirate Lord Ozar smiled, and nodded at Edward Allman's hologram.

Ozar: "It's a shame you couldn't join us. I wanted to take you on a tour of Liquid Metallicon. Anyway, if money is no object, then we will consider this job. What does it entail?"

Fourteen: "Make it worth our while, mate."

---

<Malchior IV, Temple>

A chilling laughter filled the antechamber.

???: "Your goals are admirable, but you assume that I care for insanity. And you, my friend, what is your name? Why do they need to protect you? You violated the sanctity of this temple! Why drag your friends along with you?"

Figlio grinned.

Klak: My name is Klak. I just wanted to find your ship.

???: "Klak? KLAK?!"

The chilling laughter from earlier returned, but now it was more maniacal. The mass floated throughout the room, cackling.

???: "Allow me to introduce myself. I am an ancient darkness from another realm. I am the terror of many a mortal, a fear beyond your imagination! I destroy and kill."

The mass smashed into the one of the glass coffins, gel splashing all over the wall. The purple avian, barely waking up from a centuries-old slumber, found itself being taken over by another intelligence. The Nish'Gek used its new body to leap towards Figlio and the others. It gazed up at them with red eyes.

???: "I am chaos. I am....Caiaphus."

Figlio: "Pleased to meet you, now get out of my way!"

Caiaphus and Figlio charged at each other.

< Palace of the Red Queen >

"Hoh? Have him killed?"

Vance stood up, and closed in on Cassandra. He eyed her up as he did, in that plainly obvious way which suggested that he didn't care whether she objected or not, as he was going to do so anyway. He stood next to her, and leant towards her ear, whispering;

"How can I kill him, when he's already dead?"

---

< Malchior IV, Presidential Estate >

Outside of the perimeters of the compound, a swarm of small, bat-like creatures converged on one spot, turning into black energy which in turn transformed into the body of Ra'an of the night. Inhaling the night air, he threw off his cloak, revealing his bare torso underneath; his body was fit and muscular, and pale as was typical for a vampire, though his left arm was different - clearly not part of his original body, it possessed tanned skin and tribal-style markings running down it. Crude cuts resembling runic patterns covered the seam where the arm met the rest of his body.

He materialized a weapon in his hands; a double-bladed cavalry saber. Licking the blade, he shot towards the estate as a blur, too fast for the human eye to see.