It felt all too comforting, the familiar console beneath his clawed hands. Azher shut his eyes for a moment, falling into memories of his original work here; the blessed monotonous drudgery of working in peacetime.

As abruptly as he'd spun it, the tapestry image frayed, scattering, and he was back in the present uncertainty which seemed only to be getting worse. Nothing in particular seemed amiss, but King Deoge was behaving oddly, especially with regard to those two mercenaries. Hiring them in the first place had been a dubious move; the Roc had their own soldiers who would have taken the work, distasteful as it was. Deoge had waved away the consult of both Azher and Dolmit, claiming the Roc army needed every able-bodied warrior it could get; they could spare none for such sporadic work.

Malak, as superior general, had cautiously backed him up on that fact, and the matter for better or worse was settled. Azher had been waiting for an inevitable mission to Abeter to either clear it off or take hostages, but instead the Agent and Takira had been deployed to some wretched little planet where the Changelings had made their last stronghold.

Why Deoge would concern himself with the Changelings was a matter that troubled Azher deeply. From what he'd read of Abeter's histories, there was a possible link, but so much information had been warped and twisted through malicious gossip that no two accounts seemed to agree. Azher kept reminding himself that none of this information had to mean a damned thing, but from what he'd seen of royalty, they seemed unable to separate themselves from such scandal.

'They can drag each other down to Hell, for all I care,' he thought uncharitably, 'So long as they don't take me with them.' Grumbling, he fiddled with his controls, trying to establish a link to the mercenary pod. The damned transmitter was getting more finicky every day…

"M24-17, this is checkpoint, do you read, over."

No response.

"Pick up, damn it. I know you're there." A faint chuckle in the background, then the woman's voice.

"Decided to dispense with protocol, checkpoint?" Azher grunted.

"Well, if you would just…' He cut off, sighed, then tried again, a bit calmer. "King Deoge requests a status report on your mission."

"Of course he does. The fact that we've yet to arrive on the planet means nothing to him?"

"The idea, I believe, is that by this point you'll have a more definite plan of action. He wishes to know your approximate timetable."

"We arrive in a few hours, locate the palace and take out our objective. We will still be taking the full two days we were allotted, to finish clearing the planet." Azher blinked.

"Clearing it? Was this in your orders?"

"Our orders are considered classified, checkpoint. It is none of your business. Just relay our intentions."

"Yes, sir…er…ma'am." Takira snorted softly.

"Sir works just fine, thank you."

"Ah, right."

"Any further instructions from Deoge?"

"Only that you contact the palace when you've finished your mission."

"Can do."

"Okay, M24-17, this is checkpoint signing—"

"Just cut it off, Azher." With a click, the transmission ended. Azher chuckled, thinking to himself that Takira was unusually well-informed, to know his name.

"She's not half as well-informed as some," came a soft voice.

Azher glanced over his shoulder to see a shape-shifter standing in the doorway, smiling.

* * * * *

'Where am I?'

'Welcome to Rabadoth.'

'Who are you?'

'Does it matter?'

Floating in peaceful stillness, Chaozu couldn't quite answer that. It didn't really matter, but the logical part of him wanted a name to attach to that voice.

'Why am I here?' The voice, softly feminine, chuckled.

'Assuming you mean that by location and not existence…you are dead. Almost.'

'What?'

'By rights, you should be dead. However, there is another—still alive—with some hold on your soul, who does not wish you to die.' Chaozu could practically feel the space around him shrug. 'So you were sent here.'

'What…what will happen to me?'

'That is yet to be determined. For now, you wait.' The small warrior frowned.

'Who is this person you claim controls my soul?'

'A friend,' she replied gently. 'One who would wish to see you again.'

'Tenshinhan," Chaozu whispered.

'Perhaps. I do not know the name.'

'Yes…it must be him.' He thought a moment. 'Does that mean he's alive?'

'For now.'

'He's in danger?'

'I cannot tell you.'

'You mean you don't know?'

'I cannot tell you.'

A moment's pause, then a breathy sigh, as the voice continued.

'This is not a spirit world akin to anything you've experienced. There is no implied omniscience, little connection with the world you consider "real".'

'What is this place? Why have I never heard of it?'

'This is Twilight. It is the bridge…life and death crossed. It is not commonly known and rarely sought. It is…unusual for one such as you to come here. Death is usually more clearly defined.'

'And if I'd been truly dead I'd have gone straight to Enma-daio.'

'You would not have come here. Where you would have gone is not my business nor my concern.' There was no malice in her voice, only placid disinterest. 'This is my world. It is all that matters to me.' Chaozu scowled, frustrated.

'Relax. Be at peace. This is the only realm of the universe in which you can do so completely. Until something in your reality affects you, you will feel and know nothing. Enjoy it while it lasts. Whenever you leave here, whichever way you leave here…I suspect you will not find peace for a while.'

* * * * *

'I told you this would happen.' She hissed softly in response, menacingly.

'Do not patronize me. I am in no mood to deal with you right now.'

'I didn't expect you to be. Considering you just blew the plan to Hell and back…'

'Silence!'

'I'm not your subject, bitch, I'll speak when I please. Something must be done to rectify your mistakes.' She growled and said nothing as he continued.

'When we're done killing you,' he permitted himself a brief smile, 'I am returning to Earth to finish it. This game has gone on long enough.'

'I thought you liked games,' she spat.

'I do, but only when I'm sure to win. That will not be difficult to arrange, even if you managed to botch it so completely.' Dark pain fluttered around him, nearly touching, tensing him.

'Don't you dare, bitch. We had an agreement. At least stick to some parts of the bargain.' She snorted and apparently chose to ignore him.

'What of your partner? She dies as well?'

'She's not important to this. Let her be.'

'And the child?'

'If it proves troublesome, I will kill it. None of this is your business.'

'If it interferes with your work, it is my business.'

'Just keep the Namek occupied and Cordec off my back. I can handle the rest.'

* * * * *

Goten, bored with chasing Bubbles and Gregory, had resigned himself to picking at the grass, much to Kaio-sama's consternation. He couldn't help it if he didn't feel much like training. It's not like he'd have an opportunity to fight; his death, as near as he could tell(though he tried not to think about it), was permanent. He wasn't entirely sure why he continued to stay with Kaio-sama, though he did appreciate the god's hospitality and generous pantries.

There had been no word from Vegeta, and while the Saiyajin prince and the Kaio seemed to have an easy grasp of the situation, Goten was not blessed with such insight. He'd asked for explanations and in every case gotten either sidestepped or brushed off. No one seemed to think he had a stake in this anymore, which fact irritated him more than a little. After all, Goku was his father, even if Goten hadn't gotten to know him as well as he would have liked.

Goten sighed and watched Kaio-sama polish his car for what seemed the millionth time. Whether or not the vehicle could even move was immaterial; by this point it was merely a much-needed distraction for the frustrated god.

It probably wasn't worth it to ask, Goten thought as he stood and approached the busy blue deity; but after all there was no harm in asking, was there? Kaio-sama looked up from the gleaming skin of his car, expression oddly muted.

"Yes, Goten, what is it?" Goten rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Well, I just wondered: do dreams always…" He shrugged. "…mean things?"

"Sometimes they do, but not always," Kaio muttered distractedly, resuming his work. "Why? Have you been dreaming lately?"

"Um, yeah, and I don't really know what to make of it." A grunt in reply.

"Probably not important, but perhaps at least interesting. What did you dream about?"

"See, that's the weird part…I can't really say. It left me with just one question…"

"Yes?"

"Who is Moreviv?" Kaio-sama froze.

"Who?"

"Moreviv. Who is she? She was in my dream." Kaio-sama's voice, at least, was calm, though the rag in his hand trembled.

"Goten," he said softly, "I am going to have to ask you to remember every detail of that dream of yours." Goten shifted uneasily on his feet.

"Perhaps we should sit down?"

"Yes," Kaio sighed wearily, "I think we should."