Malak wheezed and leaned heavily against the damp lead bars. His chest had been feeling oddly tight from the moment he'd set forth in the lower halls(dungeons, apparently); must be the air down there. He suspected this level had been sealed off for some time; it was possessed of a certain mustiness: an odd scent that reminded Malak uncomfortably of a catacomb. It smelled of death…old death…

He froze and looked up; there it was again, that sound…the damp hiss of flesh sliding over stone. 'Impossible. There's nothing down here.'

Then why could he hear something laughing?

'This is ridiculous. No air down here…I must be hallucinating. Hell with it…I'll be of more use protecting Deoge…'

"My son does not require your help," murmured a deep feminine voice, casting eerie echoes through the corridor. Malak hastily regained his feet, standing tall.

"Who are you?"

"That which you seek, I fear," she hissed slowly.

"And why do you fear that?" Malak asked, cursing his voice for wavering.

"I had no wish to kill you before, but now…I must."

"Just try it," he growled. 'Won't panic this is nothing I can't handle…'

"How important life is to you," the voice mused, accompanied by another scraping sound. "Do you realize, Malak, how very, very little your death will mean?"

"How did you know my name?" he demanded.

"It's already begun," she said deeply, reverently, ignoring his question. "You won't be the first to die for this…certainly not the last."

"Come out and fight…unless you're all talk. Save your pretty cryptic words for someone who cares."

"Ignorance truly is bliss, is it not? Why, then, are you not happy? You know nothing of the forces at work here."

"If you're trying to scare me, you're doing a piss-poor job of it," Malak muttered. Gods, his chest hurt.

"I don't expect you to be scared. After all, what have you to fear? Soon, you will know the horror which faces this universe. By then, it will be too late to fear…too late to do anything but wait."

"You make no sense. Stop babbling, you're wasting your breath."

"I make sense to those who know the truth. You do not have to understand. Now…" Another sound, definitely moving closer. Malak squinted in the darkness, straining to see.

"You wish to look upon the face of death? I think you'd be surprised. You are too young to remember me, I imagine. There was a time, warrior, when your race knew mine…such glorious times…" She sighed and drew closer again, still invisible in the dank blackness.

"You're nothing I particularly care to know, woman," Malak murmured. "As a threat to the king, you must be eliminated. Will you hide or step forward to meet your fate?" 'Hate to kill a female…doesn't seem right, somehow…she's probably not even dangerous, just demented.'

"You know little of my 'fate', Roc. If you truly wish to see me before you die, well…I suppose I can accommodate you. You should be honored, Malak. I do not normally grant last requests." A few more steps and Malak could just make out the faintest outline of her: narrow, almost painfully thin, scraggly limbs and a long whip-like tail. Far from the cold strength her voice carried, she looked frail.

Said appearance did not do much toward strengthening Malak's resolve to kill her. Not only was she female, she looked like she would topple in a stiff breeze…no way in hell was this a threat to Deoge. But.…he was on orders to find and kill what was down here. Taking a slow breath(slow painful breath…he felt so weak), Malak clenched a fist and stepped forward.

The mysterious female didn't move. Malak though he heard that laughter again, very soft, just barely brushing his mind; almost a caress. He shivered, then wondered why he had; cold down here, damp…yes, that must be it.

"Go on and hit me, soldier. Do your duty." Pressing his lips together, Malak aimed for her neck. Best he could do was make it quick…

Pain slammed into him and he fell to his knees with a choked groan. It felt like an enormous hand had closed around his heart, crushing; he couldn't breathe. Gnashing his teeth, Malak clawed desperately at his throat, tail lashing. He looked at the female with wide wild eyes.

She hadn't moved a muscle.

As abruptly as it had come, the pressure was gone and Malak gasped, gulping air into his starved lungs. The woman watched, completely expressionless, giving no indication she'd even seen him move or heard his breathless suffering. Panting, Malak drew himself up again, taking a step closer to her. If he could just get a hand around her neck he could snap her like a dry twig.

So close, he was so close…close enough to see the deathly cold smile twisting her lips.

"And now, Malak," she whispered tenderly. "Die for me."

Of its own volition his body began to shudder, rising in intensity until he was shaking too violently to stand; he barely felt the impact as he crashed to the ground with a wet thud. The agony was exquisite; he could feel his body tearing apart. Some desperate corner of his screaming mind tried to remind him that there was no blood, nothing broken…nothing had touched him. Impossibility, however, was hardly succor to him as the dungeons echoed with his screams.

* * * * *

The Agent crouched intently over Azher's computer, scanning with inhuman speed each carefully cataloged file. Whoever had used the machine last had not only left it on, but electronically open…all information could be had freely. Either Azher had been astoundingly careless or someone had already gone to the trouble of hacking the computer…not that it mattered now. Judging by the body and the amount of blood in the communications room, the Agent guessed Azher to be dead.

In that case, he certainly wouldn't mind anyone poring over his archives, and a good thing, too. Once he'd found out about them, the Agent would have killed to see this information.

Finally, slowly, painfully, he was beginning to comprehend that in which he'd involved himself.

He'd half-understood it before, and it had been of little consequence then; it was something to do, and the potential benefits outweighed the potential risks(though at the time he'd seen the risks themselves as benefits of a sort…finally something exciting for him). He'd asked questions, naturally, and she'd avoided them with practiced ease. After a while he'd let the matter drop; wasn't like it really made much difference to him. It was unimportant what she was…he never saw her anyhow. Just a voice in his head, but she'd proven her powers that way quite decisively and had helped him master some of the tricks he found himself relying on now. He'd assumed she was either some sort of demi-goddess or a member of a physically weak by psychically eloquent race.

Reading through Azher's research, it seemed the Agent had been wrong on both counts. Suddenly her interests were making a bit more sense, if only a tiny bit. Regardless of race or background she had to be insane, so her motives didn't have to be necessarily coherent.

Some of these records were so old they predated the computer system…some poor historian had been stuck with the job of entering them. Old records from Abeter…they read like folktales, but the files gave every indication of being genuine. Were that the case…the Agent sighed. Being impulsive assured an interesting lifestyle, but it seemed he'd gotten into something more complicated than he'd intended this time.

Azher probably hadn't even realized the significance of some of this…but it all tied in with what the Agent already knew. Denatu, Cordec…what the hell had they been thinking? The Agent drummed his fingers irritably; it was high time to come up with a way to kill the crazy bitch…just in case. No simple task…

A crash, a sharp snarl and a muttered apology issued from the hallway. Interlopers. Making a last visual scan of the information, the Agent drew back his arm and plunged his fist neatly through the computer, watching the sparks and miniscule puffs of smoke with placid interest. Wouldn't do to have that sort of information out in the open…it had caused enough damage already.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" raged a voice from the corridor. The Agent turned his cool gaze on Azher, who was now fuming in the doorway. "Do you have any idea how much time I spent compiling that?! I hadn't even deciphered it all yet!"

"No need," the Agent said smoothly. "I understand it perfectly."

"Wasn't for your benefit, you cocky little…" Azher growled, cut off as Goten shoved in front of him, looking excited. That voice had sounded like…

The Agent raised an eyebrow curiously and nodded to Goten.

"And what brings you here, young Saiyajin?" Goten simply stared, eyes huge and round as dinner plates. Azher gave him an odd look.

"What's the matter, boy? He won't kill you without orders." Goten shook his head, pointing.

"But…but that's…" The Agent smiled slowly, almost theatrically, and Azher frowned, now more confused than ever.

"That's the Agent, boy, he's not that impressive." Goten shook his head again vehemently.

"No, you don't understand…that's Juunanagou!"