“Chi”

------------------

Who am I to judge another human being? To want them to love or hate me? Isn’t my world defined by what I make of it or is there really something greater, a G_O_D, who governs my future? But if that is so, then who am I to even judge myself? To say that my life is gone and in shambles, that I shall never be happy again? No, that would be giving up, because I do have a choice. I can still fight if I really want to, I am still fully capable of rising above everybody else to something that is beyond a ‘normal’ life. Even though my heart is weighed down with hatred, with fear, with everything that is horrible and evil about reality, I still have an angel in my soul. And that angel, no matter how often I’ve tried to ignore his advice, is still a beginning, a new start, a rebirth, a chance...

And so I shall claw my way up the mountain of sorrow, over those who would knock me back down [hate, fear, insanity, and death], and I shall rise once again to see the beautiful dawn and the rising sun.

...

“Fill my heart with song

And let me sing forevermore…”

--- Frank Sinatra, ‘Fly Me To The Moon’

...

... degradation... we must all face reality some time...

...

The cold night wind bit hard at the sentries’ dark armor, the three moons above offering little illumination in the desert upon which Fumiya’s headquarters rested under. The first man gently lowered his rail gun against his shoulder. Most likely, his pride and joy would not be needed in action that night.

“Quit lying down on the job, Musashi,” called out a harsh woman’s voice from his partner’s suit. “Fumiya doesn’t pay us to slack off.”

“Sheesh, you take that guy too seriously, Ann,” he complained. “Maybe when you’ve been in the force as long as I have, you’ll see that the only thing you’ll be looking out for in this god-forsaken hell is sand.”

“When I’ve been in the force as long as you have, I’ll probably have lost most of my sanity and gotten a beer-belly...” muttered Ann under her breath. At any rate, her partner was right enough on one thing. The only living creatures that ever came out this far into the wasteland were the doomed. She sighed as she set the butt of her own weapon down in the dust. Another night of gate patrol, crude jokes, and poker games. Didn’t get any better than this.

A piercing shriek suddenly broke the silent winds, jolting the soldier from her inactive state. Whirling towards her partner and bringing her heavy rifle up to aim, she prepared herself for the worst.

“Musashi!!!” she called out, shuffling in his direction, her power armor silently slipping forth on well oiled joints. No answer. “Damnit, Musashi! You better not be playing jokes with me you bastar---” The words simply stopped coming out of her mouth. As time slowed down, her weapon fell from her hands and slowly descended towards the ground. Musashi lie in the sand, his armor torn open like a nutshell, the epidermis flayed from his body, his meat cooked to a medium rare. The heat had already evaporated and dried what little blood remained in his crispy shell, his maw wide open in the mockery of a dying scream, his eyes melted into puddles that resembled the uncooked whites of eggs.

Ann could smell his burnt flesh, smell the fear that permeated the air. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t. That was when she realized that she could no longer breathe.

Pain exploded through her chest as a spout of blood erupted from her heart. Excited electrolytes burned her veins until the pain was simply too much to handle, her mind teetering on the edge of insanty. Every pore in her body was bleeding freely now, covering her form in a sea of red, sticky liquid. As the sizzling life fluid began to obscure her vision, Ann felt herself being dragged upwards as her body fell into the dust.

Laughter, slow and deep, swelled up into the air as three dark shapes took form from the shadows. Yujin swept his massive cape aside as he put his hand up to his face to contain his humor. It was soft at first, then bold, then an uncontrollable scream of ecstasy, until the very heavens quaked with his wild insanity. That was his call of challenge, his call of victory. That was what this night would be, his pleasure, his sweet, sweet taste of revenge. And then, with everything set the way it once was, all would be well with the world once again.

...

Edge stared over the balcony, stared into that oblivion that was his own heart. Thousands of forms moved down below. People, people who he would probably hurt in the future because of his ignorance. People whose names he didn’t even know. He clutched his head in clawed hands as he rolled in his anguish. Why was he so horrible? Why was he entrusted with this horrible power, this madness, that which could render a man to shreads, when he could not even decide if his own mind was mentally stable? Adam’s lessons, what good were they now? They did nothing! Maybe Clef really had been right, the angel was nothing but trouble.

His thoughts gently rolled back, back to the beginning. His first memory, that of the beautiful seraph, Yoshime, his savior. Why had she revived him? Because she wanted his power? No, she never even considered that. She knew nothing of his horrible visage, that ugly creature which hid beneath his metal skin. Would she be so forgiving if she really knew him? Would she be so willing to help if she knew who he was?

An eerie whine began to echo throughout the base and Edge wondered if it was his inner self screaming in pain. It took him a minute to attune his visuals with his audio, suddenly noticing all of Fumiya’s soldiers dashing towards the same exit. Raising himself from his propped elbows, he began to notice the swirling red alarm lights that had already started their flash of warning. Above, a huge crash thundered against the base’s metallic shield layering and a familiar energy signature flared with angry intent.

“It can’t be...” he said softly as he stared upwards, a soft hail of debris falling from the ceiling.

“Warning,” called out an automated voice of admonition. “First level armor penetrated. At the current pace, estimated time for intruder’s full breakthrough is five minutes, twenty-three seconds. Immediate evacuation is the recommended course of action.”

...

“It’s Yujin,” said Double, staring at Fumiya’s observation screens in the war room. “I guess Toy wasn’t satisfied enough with North Point. He’s still going for the gold.”

“He wants us dead,” said Kouryuu. “You heard him, he isn’t going to stop until he finishes.” She squinted at the screen, attempting to pick out the two shadowy figures accompanying the general. “There’s Yuusuke, but who’s the third unit?”

“That would be my replacement,” said Asimov grimly, staring at his gold-plated clone. “No doubt upgraded to accompany the latest in weapon advancement. A plasma generator perhaps, it would certainly cut down on my personal need to reenergize while giving him a broader plane of offense to work with. Yujin has been training too. He never was all that happy about getting beaten by Edge. Even from here I can tell that his strength level has raised enormously. I can only guess the new techniques that he’s learned. I don’t know if Yuusuke has been upgraded, but even without a full brigade of backup soldiers, that trio poses a far greater threat than the entire WNHR.”

Yoshime drummed her fingers impatiently on the console board. Edge was missing at the moment, lost somewhere in the base, so that dramatically decreased their options. In such close quarter proximity, Terpfen’s power would be useless, lest they attempt to destroy the entire complex. Last time they took on Yujin, Double and Kouryuu were barely able to hold their own, and they could only expect stronger opponents this time. She glanced worried over to the other androids. Would their new ‘recruits’ be able to hold the battle with the advantage in numbers? Staring down at her own hands, she knew that even her own bull-headedness wasn’t going to add anything to this battle A high-powered rifle was nothing against energy manipulation. They couldn’t run. They couldn’t hide. They would have to fight.

“Excuse me,” broke in one of Fumiya’s military officers as he approached the group. “But we don’t have this much time to spare. In a matter of minutes, that thing will have crushed our entire front line.” He turned to Yoshime in apprehension. “We know you helped defend Dollet in its time of need. Can you help us as well?”

She dribbled her fingers across the dash a final time before shouldering her rifle and smashing her fist into the palm of her hand.

“We can do it,” she said resolutely. Even though Edge was caught up in some other part of the base, he must have heard the emergency sirens. He would catch up eventually and with his added firepower, they had a chance. Besides, running didn’t help anything, did it? Her mother and father... they had run away, what did it help them? Fools. She couldn’t be like that, couldn’t be a coward at the first sign of danger. She would stand and fight like she had always done, stand by what she believed in. So this Toy--- this mysterious being she didn’t know and didn’t care about--- wanted her friends, Kouryuu, Double, Zero, Asimov, Terpfen, Iesu, Clef... Edge... he wanted them dead. That was all she needed to know to hate him.

“We can do it.”

...

Iesu dunked his head in the toilet bowl and retched violently as he spewed his the contents of his stomach into the small pool of water at the bottom. His head was pounding wildly as though a sledgehammer were driving a steel spike into his skull. Why was he receiving this pain? What had he done wrong?

In a stupor, he stumbled out of the stall and braced himself drunkenly over the porcelain sink. The voices, they shouted in his head today, screaming their incoherent commands that drove him to insanity.

“WHY~!?” he screamed in the empty bathroom. “Why do you torture me like this?!” He stopped abruptly, staring at himself in the mirror. A black fleck had just passed across his iris, hadn’t it? The pain welled up in waves, crashing in like the rising tide. Voices. Hatred. And suddenly he could understand what they were saying, the gibberish lining up into something totally and perfectly synchronous. The message created a fear in his gut that could not be described in human words.

“No...” he whispered softly, then louder. “You fucking bastard, NO!! I can’t do that--- I won’t---!! I--------- I---!!!”

Then silence.

The voices were gone, but he was still there, writhing inside his skull. And suddenly he didn’t feel quite so inclined to scream anymore. A soft calmness washed over his body, like a bath of holy water. He was free of worries, free of sin and hell once again. The pain was gone. What was it that he had heard that he had fought against? No, it didn’t matter anymore. He had forgotten, as long as the pain was gone.

Standing up from his fetal crouch, Iesu glanced in the mirror just in time to witness the last of the black flecks flash over his irises. When he blinked, they were all gone. It must have just been an illusion, right? A trick of the eye? He was tired, weary. Better not to worry himself about it. He had better things to do. After all, Yoshime was such a beautiful young girl, so troubled from being so attached to her machines... she seemed to be angry with him lately though. Why? Why---

His skull abruptly began pounding again, crashing red with violence, blood, hate. He felt his stomach rising once more and attempted to keep his body liquids from washing out by clamping his hands to his mouth. Black bile spilled out through his fingers despite his pitiful attempt and he dipped himself over the sink in order to keep his shirt free from stains. He breathed heavily as he waited for the pain to leave his head, that awful, horrible agony. Stomach acid was still dripping from his lips, and he tried to wipe it away with a fumbling hand. Slowly, he tried to rise once again when he suddenly winced from a sharp prick in the palm of his bile-covered fist. Opening his right grip, he spied a small glint of light come out from the sticky stomach acid, marking itself in the bog with a small circle of blood. Gently pulling the sharp object from his skin, Iesu held it up to the fluorescent light in curiosity. It was a small piece of metal and silicone, almost resembling that of a computer chip...

...

Double raced along the corridors as he pondered the situation. He had never actually fought Yujin himself, although he had heard the many rumors about the mysterious general’s undefeated record and supposed invincibility. That is, undefeated until he had met Edge. They had barely been able to hold out at the rebel base. What the hell made them think they could do any better now?

“Ch!” he spat. “Down one man with an uphill battle. I hate suicide runs!”

“Keep your hopes up,” said the rebel as she strode up beside him. “We have more backup this time. Light infantry would be good enough, but Fumiya has some pretty advanced hardware here. I think we can at least hold our own.”

“I don’t know. Yujin’s record was a legendary stat among the underground. Surprised the hell out of me when Edge actually took him down. Even I must admit that I probably wouldn’t have been able to floor that huge bastard myself.” He paused in mid-run to cast a worried glance in Kouryuu’s direction. “To be honest, I’m scared as hell.”

She merely laughed and patted him heartily on the shoulder.

“The arrogant assassin, worried?!” she mocked. “Surely you jest! Now we really have something to be scared about.”

“I know when I’m outmatched,” said the killer grimly, keeping his eyes steeled forward. “That was one of the first things I was ever taught. Only problem is that in the assassin profession there was usually a loophole out of the worst-case scenarios. This is just a death trap.”

The two skidded to a stop as they reached the hanger bay, its vast roof stretching in silver metallic curves high along the ceiling, an undisturbed mirror in the pond. Ripples suddenly disturbed the tranquility, accompanied by a loud crash from above. The second blow tore open the shell like an egg, shredding the delicately melted steel like paper. An indigo blur fell from the ceiling and smashed into the ground on its hands and knees. Slowly rising to its feet, sharp blond daggers cut through the air as Yujin’s towering figure cast his cold sterile stance upon the rebel fighter and government assassin. His left hand slowly rose to his face to conceal his horrible grin, but it helped very little. A great booming laughter began to re-echo throughout the massive room, and as Yuusuke and Vomisa Mark II made their slow descent from the breach in Fumiya’s defenses, a towering aura of red fire engulfing the maniacal laugher in the midst of the mechanical chaos.

“SAA~!” roared the mighty beast, his flowing cape trailing him in his wake as he took a mighty step forward. “Let the first come to be slaughtered, and then, Edge will meet his death at my bloodied hands!!!”

...

Edge stared blankly at the trail of carnage that lay before him. Corpses littered the path, brave men and women who had stepped up to the challenge brought to them by a wrathful god. Each and every one had been gutted from the armor that was supposed to protect his or her vital organs, pitiful kevlar proving useless against the primal energies of a minor deity, armored suits torn open as easy as butter. He felt nothing, as if floating in the wind. He knew he should, but his head was being numbed against the crimson tide.

Why? No, no more excuses, he knew why. Because he hated himself, hated his horrible essence, that part which made him a killer. He was tired of everything that was causing him pain, and in this case... could that be his own existence? To live to kill? Was that his sole purpose? To hurt others? To create hell upon the earthen plane?

“Yujin,” he said, his voice trailing off in to the cacophony that sounded in the distance. Toy’s bringer of death waited in the eves, hunting their troupe down until the perfect chance was ripe for plucking. He could end it all, couldn’t he? A sweet, gentle end. And then he wouldn’t be a threat anymore... to anyone...

Slowly, the young boy’s feet lifted off the stained floor, degravitized with a thought. Like a lost wrath, he began to float thoughtlessly down the corridor. Now that he had seen the light of the truth, that which had been shielded from his eyes by that horrible angel, he had no more will to live.

How could his corazon chip, his so-called ‘soul,’ mean anything to anybody else if it was such a burden on his own being...?

...

“Love Brilliant Scars

Paint Brilliant Tomorrow

Sing Brilliant song for myself”

--- X Japan, “Scars”

...

Asimov narrowly sidestepped the vicious blade of his silent opponent, the second Vomisa model. He was at a distinct disadvantage in this battle, infinitely outclassed by this latest version’s improved speed, balance, and dexterity. Strength-wise, the two were about equal, but the newer model’s upgraded weapon system seemed to siphon kinetic energy in addition its limitless plasma drive, rendering his own power virtually useless since no motion heat was left to be absorbed and his own blasts were merely implemented into his opponent’s fuel reserves. It was already using the extra energy to erect shields, even his in-fighting rendered useless as he banged against the translucent barrier that separated him from his goal. It was a losing match, but one that he had to fight nonetheless. There were many things he had done in life that he had not liked, but that hardly meant he had any right to escape the responsibility from his shoulders. If anything, it was one of the few ideals learned from his former master that he continued to cherish.

“Damn!” he muttered as he used his forward momentum to turn and back-step away from his advancing adversary. He was in a trap. It might as well have been the team of rookies trying to beat veterans in field exercises, a hopelessly unfair match with himself as the underdog. And the only resource he had to draw from this time was his own wit.

“Primary Directive: Eliminate the opposition,” came the cold words through Vomisa’s voicebox, his left arm sweeping forward as a wall of plasma energy crashed into Asimov’s midsection. He grunted as he did his best to cushion the impact with his forearms, rolling with the blow. Using his motion to spin back up on his feet, he reversed his own kinetic energy in a quick and concentrated burst, launching himself back at his opponent. Perhaps their range of abilities set them apart but his own experience might be able to bridge the gap. Tactical combat not only involved knowing a wide range of techniques but also of the fighter’s innovative ingenuity in the heat of battle. He had had to improvise many times before in his lifetime. Let’s see if his opponent could do the same.

Asimov’s first jab was caught inches from Vomisa’s face, his second blocked before it could reach its target’s throat. His absorption field was wide open now, pulling in the energy from his foe’s barrier as fast he could as his physical blows broke down the rest. With all spare kinetic energy in the clone’s field being absorbed at a constant rate, he couldn’t repel his opponent backwards for a proper setup. However, he was just fine as it was.

Pushing his weight forward, the golden warrior slammed into his enemy, pushing Vomisa backwards as he spun down in a low sweep in an attempt to get some room. With amazing turnaround time, the clone quickly hopped the low blow and took the opportunity to land a heavy axe kick to his head as he descended from his flight. Asimov was still reeling even as he flew through midair, and it was only luck that he was able to bring himself back down as his arm flailed about wildly and made contact with the ground.

‘Damn!’ he thought as his face met the ground with a bone-jarring smash. How could anybody react so quickly and with such direct precession? How much had his clone’s abilities been advanced? No, too late for those questions, he should have asked them back at the beginning of the match when he had still had a chance. His power levels were dangerously low now, too little to continue the waning fight. Kneeling down and grabbing the golden warrior be the neck, Toy’s unyielding soldier quickly brought his arm back in a flash of plasma to bring down the final blow.

Asimov cursed his own sloth as he watched the spiked gauntlet rise into the air, the shouts and explosions of a bloody battle continuing on in the background. Sacrifice. That was what his fight was all about. His life meant little in the shadow of the bigger picture. His everything, that was what he would put into his every motion. His everything. So that people, untouched, innocent people, could go on living their lives in a just manner.

‘Stand up,’ a young girl’s voice whispered in his head. ‘Stand up, Asi...’

His eyes were wide open now, his reactor secretly gathering all his remaining energy for a move of desperation. He hated to use this technique for the strength it drained from his body--- the full exposure and rechanneling of his absorption field to another’s power--- but it was all he had left. No, he corrected himself. No matter how much of himself he threw into the fight, he would always have the satisfaction and honor of knowing he had attempted to redeem himself with his life.

Vomisa’s arm began its rocket-dive descent, aimed at his forehead, and he let his soul open to the world...

“Fool,” came the deep woman’s voice from behind Vomisa, and by the time the white-eyed gladiator had turned about to see what was keeping it from its prey, Zero, in full ‘Demoness’ armor, tore open his chestplate and sent him flying against the far wall of the complex. It took him a second to realize what had happened, but when he did he felt incredibly silly, picking himself up off the ground with as much dignity as he could manage.

“Thanks,” he said, rushing to close his field as he suddenly realized the breather he was allowed. He had been too preoccupied with his own plight to even notice his savior. The failsafes he had implemented into Zero’s system allowed her to safely use her demonic powers, even if she was unaware of their unintended practice. However, he was hardly accustomed to such usage...

The rushing madness took him by surprise and he was barely able to keep himself from screaming out his agony as it flooded into his mind. The pure, insatiable lust for blood that rushed through his being, that need to cause and create death---so strong! So overwhelming! His head whirled about, observing the scenario with the instincts of hungry predator. He needed to kill so badly, it was like some kind of disgusting sickness, a cancer that ate away at his self and threatened to leave him with nothing behind. The absorption field. He hadn’t closed it in time? This was what the girl exposed herself to? This?!

He forcefully pried his eyes away from Fumiya’s fighting soldiers, unwilling to let himself give in to the deaths of innocents. He needed a guilty party, somebody to lay his hate upon in the form of raining death. He spied only one victim. Vomisa.

With a deep roar, Asimov flew through the air and imbedded his clawed fingers into the side of his opponent’s head. His arms rose and fell in merciless torrents of pure hate and destruction as he battered his assailant with blows that blew craters into the wall. The barrier was useless now, shattering apart beneath his augmented power. How could Zero survive with this in her? How could she not be driven to the brink of insanity by this powerful, horrible sin?!

“Primary... Directive: Eliminate... the opposition,” crackled the damaged Vomisa unit in a pitiful voice, and huge bursts of plasma suddenly thrashed against Asimov’s crazed figure in the unit’s wild attempt to drive him back. He couldn’t feel his armor overheat beyond its limits; he was too busy tearing his prey apart. It wasn’t until the sixth burst that he was thrown clear of his prize, and Vomisa issued himself a hasty retreat. He wasted no time in scrambling to his feet, searching out his escaped quarry.

“Coward!!!” roared the golden warrior to his retreating enemy. “You bastard! I’m not finished with you yet!! You think you can just run away from me like that?! Come back and face me!!! Face m---!”

A soft tug on his arm. A touch very gentle and very familiar, bidding for his attention and his affection. He stopped his wild rage and looked down, momentarily perplexed by the sudden movement. There was Zero, as innocent as ever in her cute little pigtails with her child’s eyes, clinging to his form, her pools of liquid asking for mercy.

“Ne, Asi,” she said gently, softly. “No more. He’s gone.” She snuggled into his shoulder, threatening to dent his armor with her affections, and smiled beneath his protective gaze. “You don’t need to fight anymore.”

Asimov merely blushed at his own shame. Slowly, he stared down at his hands, his fingers still touched with clawed tips that he had absorbed from Zero’s demonic aura. He still had a part of her in him, didn’t he? How horrible that was... like reliving those memories of the Clone Wars, seeing those horrible beasts tear each other apart like animals. And he had just acted as one, having taken in the spirit of the Demon God. Yet somehow he didn’t feel so horrible now, even though he still had that hateful sin in his body. He felt calmed, soothed... hope? He stared down at that beautiful child who rested on his appendage as though he were everything in her life. Innocence. He wasn’t innocent anymore, so why should he feel solace after the way he had just acted?

Maybe, just maybe, there was a stronger force at work. How mistaken he had been, thinking her weak in her ignorance when in reality her small, delicate frame held more than enough strength to not only bear the demon blood in her body, but also that diabolic angst caused in his own. So that was how she held it in her so easily, because she knew he would be right at her side to hold back the pain, because she knew that he wanted to help her past the horror... just as she was doing for him now...

Her affections... they would help bear his shame, that both of present and of past...

“Zero...” said Asimov as he sank to his knees tiredly, the word coming out with effort that he had never had to use befores. He had fought his hardest, given everything he could for his noble cause. In the end, he would not die because there was somebody there to replace what he had lost. “Thank you for saving me...”

And as he collapsed into stand-by mode, Zero gently and innocently bore him in her lap and stroked his golden hair as she waited for him to wake from dream.

...

“Fuu,” hummed Yuusuke as he produced a broadsword from his back and slashed deep into Terpfen’s armored hide. The giant merely lumbered out of the way, huge arms at its side, and waited for his opponent to make the next pass. Yuusuke drew his blade back as he prepared his next strike. How dense was this walking paperweight? Didn’t it even know how to defend itself in a combat situation? How useless. He couldn’t see why it was such a valuable relic among the humans if its potential was so incredibly low. After all, what use was a walking nuclear device if it didn’t blow up anything?

“Useless,” he muttered beneath his breath as he prepared to finish the fight. With precision speed, the nano technology implemented into his body began to mold the additional components around his blade weapon, creating a self-compressed null-space field; a virtual black hole similar to the type that the renegade Edge unit was capable of producing. Crude, but effective. His constantly changing body could only emulate different powers to a certain degree and all the necessarily hardware materials were not always available. Still, it was plenty versatile and certainly had better reaction time than either Asimov or Vomisa’s absorption fields.

“Die,” whispered Yuusuke as he brought down his blow of death. Fool traitors. If they had any brains then they would have left him with an opponent capable of defending himself.

However, his streaking blade never met its mark.He abruptly stumbled forward as a fragment grenade caught him squarely in the back, and he could tell without looking that his target had already lumbered to safety. Spinning on his momentum, his angry eyes caught the vision of the young human girl who had been aiding the traitor unit. Yoshime, slowly lowering her assault rifle from her aiming position. She would die for the indignity she had just caused him.

“Bitch,” he hissed angrily. “It’s time your nuisance came to an end!”

“Terp!” shouted out Yoshime, completely ignoring the threat of Toy’s soldier. “Get him now!”

The officer’s eyes widened in horror as Terpfen’s iron grip suddenly clasped around his neck and raised him into the air. ‘Fool!’ he thought to himself. A distraction, that had been their plan?!

“Human protection guidance rules still in operation,” said Terpfen stolidly. “Range closed between intended target for elimination. Beginning shield pattern generation.”

Yuusuke gasped as the hold on his jugular loosened, but the fear stayed in his eyes as he suddenly realized that he was still being lifted off the ground, this time entrapped in a blue-tinted sphere of energy, grid lines lining the wall of his new prison. Attempts to activate his flight system rendered nothing. He was trapped, caught in the nuclear relic’s web.

He swung his deadly blade at the walls, hoping to break free of the prison. He could only curse bitterly as the contact sent reeling backlashes of electricity through his frame. Microadaptable Repulsion fields, impossible to break except on a molecular level. A black-hole blade wouldn’t do the trick. The physical weapon got in the way. A full powered black-hole field would be needed in this case.

Yuusuke busily worked his nano-technology into the necessary hardware when he suddenly noticed a slowly growing yellow sphere in the center of his room.

“What?!”

“Close-range contact established. Containment field fully erected,” said Terpfen, his eyes dully flashing with processing information. “Production and detonation of nuclear warheads commencing.”

Yuusuke whirled about towards the brightly glowing yellow ball in fear. Nuclear warhead? His body would be torn to shreds at this close proximity. He had to get free, no matter what it took.

He immediately began re-concentrating his efforts on supporting his shields, cycling every drop of energy he had to reflecting the blow, but it was to little avail. A deafening boom accompanied the explosion of white light, the creation of a small sun in the glowing crucible. Yuusuke couldn’t feel pain, but he screamed out nonetheless, giving his fears of non-existence a form in sound. As a low hum filled the room with the foreboding tide of the solidification of man’s greatest hate, Toy’s silent soldier felt all his petty, physical armor melt away and his inner essence delivered before a greater being for the ultimate judgment on his existence. In the end, he was rejected, and when the sacred light cleared itself from the plane of reality, the only thing left was the charred and tattered form of a once great warrior who could do nothing more but fall to the ground in complete and utter defeat.

“Toy-sama,” cracked out Yuusuke’s last words as he felt the last of his life burn away. And what regrets did he have, now that he was fated to die? None. He had served loyally, without question, without demand. His existence was complete. Only one memory stayed afloat then, that of his failure, of his inability to bring forth his master’s word in the end...

...

“Damnit!” cursed Double as Yujin’s heavy gauntlet backhanded his face, throwing him against the far wall in a storm of rock and steel. He growled with disgust as he picked himself to his feet. His whole body felt like a lead weight in water, his energy levels having dropped so low. And so early in the fight too! Disgusted with himself, he let his anger bristle into amorphous blades all along his body as he prepared himself for another pass. “He’s too much,” he said to Kouryuu. “I’m already down by fifty percent and he’s just getting warmed up! We need to retreat for backup!”

“We can’t!” shouted the rebel, skidding backwards from a defended force blast and stopping beside the killer to catch her breath. “Fumiya’s soldiers--- the few of them that are left--- aren’t going to be able to hold him back. Yujin wants us dead, that’s the bottom line. He isn’t going to give a damn if he has to tear this place apart to do it!”

“So is THAT your answer?!” said Double coldly. “We put ourselves on the cross for the goddamn good of humanity, or at least a couple hundred freelance mercenaries?! I didn’t trust Fumiya when I first met him and I still don’t now. He can burn in hell for all I care!”

“It’s the principle!” hissed Kouryuu angrily. “Don’t you have any sense of morality?”

“Yeah, I do,” said the assassin. “But I think you’re a few screwballs short on a couple issues, thinking all humans are little angels, trying your damnedest to preserve every one of their pitiful little lives. Who the hell do you think the West Newport Human Republic is run by, Valkair’s ghosts? It’s human beings, as real and red blooded as your rebels!”

Kouryuu grit her teeth as her face reddened in anger and speechlessness. Double cooled his tone down a bit, seeing that he had hit a sore spot.

“It’s the truth. Not everybody is a good guy. Both you and I know that if we stick around here any longer, Yujin’s going to gut us like raw fish and after that, most likely the others as well. There’s pride in holding ground, but not in staying to die.”

“Damn,” whispered Kouryuu, pretending to concentrate on the foe before them. “Damn you... I wish you made less sense sometimes.”

Above them, the raging demon howled in rage, his purple cape trailing in a sea of blood. She rose her head to face the beast and readied her blades, channeling a white-hot plasma through their metal until they glowed like stars.

“Go,” she said firmly to Double, and the assassin did a double take as he tried to figure out what she was doing. “Go find Fumiya and tell him to start evacuating his men. I’ll keep our friend occupied.”

“Crazy woman!” he spat. “You’re going to get yourself---”

“I’m going to get us out of here,” said Kouryuu calmly, her features set in stone. “Now go!!” Double sighed wearily, knowing that there was no way that he was going to change her mind. Perhaps that stubbornness could be considered one of her better features.

“I guess insanity against all odds is a constant with you rebel-types, no matter what you believe in,” he said, turning on heel to dash to the war room as fast as his legs could carry him. “Don’t get yourself killed!”

“Don’t worry,” she smiled. “I still have to prove you wrong.”

“Heh!” grinned the assassin as he sprinted away, carrying with him their last hope of preservation. Behind him, the swordsman and the Devil faced off against one another, oblivious to the world around them. The graceful demon bared his teeth in a malicious smile as waves of psionic energy rippled through the air and the swordsman stood her ground resolutely, knowing only that she had to hold off the horrible nightmare until the sunrise.

...

Slowly, Edge came out into the massive hanger, carnage littering every inch of ground at his feet. And within that valley of death he spied his goal, death given form. The general. How ironic that the bloodthirsty monster would be killed by one of its own kind. No matter, as long as there was one less in the world, yes? Then, oh then, all would be right with the world...

And slowly, methodically, the young boy picked himself through the gore, his face cleared of all expression, and moved forward towards the final ultimatum.

...

Yujin’s grin of satisfaction as he slammed a wall of telekinetic force into Kouryuu’s head was minimal. His soul burned not for the deaths of these pitiful peons, but for the ultimate demise of Edge, the accursed bastard child who had destroyed his pride. And where was that cocky fool now, mocking him with the taste of defeat? Nowhere to be seen! Was this how he chose to tease him, to make him suffer and roll in his own angst? By not even giving him the honor of a proper rematch? The boy would pay for his deeds, but first he needed to fulfill Toy’s orders lest his own skull be crushed...

The general stopped short as he caught a red blur out of the corner of his eye. Knocking the sword-wielding rebel away, he turned to find the visage of his green-haired target slowly floating toward him, mocking him with his lack of speed and wrath-like indifference. So was that how he planned to destroy him? With apathy?! Yujin ground his teeth in sheer rage as his aura exploded around him, raising a hail of debris to the heavens.

“EDGE!!!” he roared, planting his foot deep into the steel floor and crouching down like an animal as he prepared to jump his quarry. “Time to finish this, you little fool. Time to die!”

He stopped short as a sudden, burning pain cut into his side. Whipping his head around, his iris-less eyes caught Kouryuu jamming her glowing blade of light into his side. He snickered with disdain as a massive hand slapped the annoyance to the side.

“I’ll come back for you later,” he growled as he dislodged the toothpick from his gut. “However, I have a personal vendetta to settle right now.” His deep, booming laughter filled the room as he jumped off towards the meandering android, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake as the air itself vaporized into emptiness.

...

As the towering giant cast his shadow of darkness over him, Edge merely stopped and looked upwards towards those bright, white lights of his savior. And now here he stood before he who would lay the final judgment upon him and end his madness [K_I_C_H_I_G_A_I] forever. And the young boy smiled, knowing that the knowledge of the world would soon be stolen from him through death and the calming sea of ignorance that encompassed the happiest of people, the children, would once again be his to swim in…

...

Why did the fool simply stand there like a blithering idiot? Yujin considered the possibility of a trap being laid, but his sensors picked up no sign of energy buildups. Could his prey honestly be giving himself up? Ludicrous! A warrior of his strength would never pull such a suicidal act. It must be the setup for an ambush. He would have to act swiftly.

“Both you and I know that I would love to make your pain last as long as possible,” he whispered as he pulled his head down beside Edge’s dull gaze, his body suddenly disappearing in a flash only to come back into existence just over the young boy’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, my master bids you to accomplish another task before I have my turn.”

In a quick blur that cut through the air, the general’s right hand clamped down on the back of Edge’s neck--- exactly over the access panel to his cpu--- and began uploading Toy’s program through the synthetic flesh.

“Have a nice sleep, Edge.”

...

Heartbeat.

Ne, wake up.

Heartbeat.

You can’t go away now, not yet.

I’m so tired.

Heartbeat.

Look, look what you’ll do to us if you give up now.

... so tired.

Heartbeat.

Look up, shonen.

.... no more, no more killing.

Heartbeat.

Look at what you have released upon the world, you coward.

... no more...

Heartbeat.

Do your best, GOD DAMN YOU~!!!

Heartbeat.

...

And Edge looked up, almost completely drowned in his sea of sorrows. In that darkness of night he spied a red-armored, green-haired android, much like himself. And this one was different, its gauntlets covered in sticky blood, its eyes filled with white anger not unlike the general. Yujin. It was the B_E_A_S_T that he had feared so much, so much that he had preferred death rather than leave the possibility that the monster might be released once again. So what now? He was consumed, almost totally buried beneath his own weight, and the creature of hell’s night was left to rampage upon the world. In desperation, he clawed his way through the clear waters that suddenly turned into black tar that held him back, desperately tried to recall his hatred that he had unwittingly let loose upon the world.

“STOP IT!!” he screamed to the animal, flailing his arms in search of a sure grip. “Please stop it! I didn’t mean to do it! PLEASE!!!”

But the deed had already been done, and the past could not be changed. And thus Edge could only watch in despair as the wild creature bounded off in search of food, and he, the keeper, cried his shame out for only himself to hear.

...

In the shadows, a cruel angel watched it all with indifference upon his face, his merciful blade of light illuminating that horrible night.

...

Kouryuu looked on in horror as Edge’s eyes flashed with that familiar white-hot anger, his body crouched over in that primal angle, his fingers curling into tense claws. The piercing scream of fear and hate that followed confirmed her worst fears, that Edge had reverted back to that primitive state of being in which he had torn the ‘Shi no Tenshi’ mecha to shreds with his own bare hands. What had Yujin done to him? What kind of horrible program would exploit such unsolicited malignity and siphon it into raw power?

And then young boy whipped his head around to stare at her, and she froze in place. Her worst fears? That Edge had changed into that thing once again? No, that wasn’t it. Now, as she stared into his narrowing slits of flaring light, as she heard his low and bestial growl reverberate from across the room, she realized that what she feared most was having that primal state recognize her self as the game.

No way. No way out.

“No,” she whispered, steeling both blades before her. She was used to fighting legions of normal soldiers, heavy artillery, power armor, but not this. Magic had been absent from Akuji for thousands upon thousands of years. How was she supposed to be expected to face off with a demon from hell?

Edge tilted back his head in a deafening howl of desire and leapt forward to tear Kouryuu in half. In his wake was came the berserk general, laughing like an insane jester, tugging on the strings of the puppet before him.

...

“Edge!!!” shouted out Yoshime in dismay as she watched him trade blows with Kouryuu, but she somehow knew inside that it was already hopeless. The transformation was complete, but what had happened to him that would drive him crazy like this? What had Yujin done to him? Her heart swelled up with yearning to run out there and protect him, to hug him tightly like she always did to make him feel better, and she had already taken the first step to do so when a firm hand on her shoulder suddenly held her back.

“It’s not worth the trouble,” said Fumiya grimly, holding her in place. “You’ll get killed if you go out there.” Yoshime bowed her head in gloom because she knew he was right. Her armor piercing shells were no match for magnetic fluxes and black holes. And in his current state, Edge would mostly likely rip her in half rather than return her favor. Yet she continued to worry as she watched him viciously knock one of Kouryuu’s blades from her hand as if it were nothing more than a toy, as he grabbed and jolted her with a high-voltage bolt of electricity that threatened to overheat her body.

“Why is he doing this?” she said, holding back tears that came because she knew she could do nothing. “How could he act like this after all we’ve been through?”

“Sometimes people have to hold back all their antipathy in order to face the world,” said the mercenary softly, the matured features on his young face steeling his eyes on the battle before him, rubbing his hands to warm them as he gently worked out the kinks in his muscles. “I can understand your friend’s pain all too well.”

...

“What have I done...?” cried Edge in the darkness, human tears falling from his eyes. “I’m such a fool... how could I have been so careless...?”

“It is what people do when they feel as if they have nothing else,” said Adam as he stepped out from the shadows, his wings gently holding the air about the two in their gentle glow. “When people feel the weight of the world on their back, they stop only to consider their own burdens. It is not a wrong thing you did, only a very human thing.”

He stared up at the seraph with confusion in his eyes and Adam nodded in understanding.

“I see you still question my intentions,” said the angel, his voice carrying a light chime. “Don’t you understand what I did was to save your life? Power is a necessary evil in this existence. You were lucky that Double and Kouryuu recovered before Prophet chose to kill you.”

“Maybe,” said Edge, bowing his head and then grasping his cranium with helpless hands. “But I hate it! I hate having to go through that risk that I might hurt somebody else, that I might accidentally steer my anger in the direction of one of my friends because I am too blinded by lust. It... it is not worth what little prize I receive.”

“And that is why you must learn to control it now,” said Adam sternly. “Otherwise you will be unable to do so in the future.”

“You expected me to do that by triggering its activation on random occasions?!” exploded the young boy, leaping to his feet and sparkling with huge arcs of electricity. “You thought that by igniting that hatred in me you would be able to create control?!"

Adam sighed and turned his back to the fury, crossing his arms in disdain.

“Tell me,” he started. “What have you learned from your past memories? Without my intervention, would you have ever felt a thread of anger?” Edge abruptly came to a halt. He hadn’t really thought about that, had he? Anger was something so foreign to him, something he could not stand and something he wished to avoid at all costs. And every instance in which he had released his fury, it had been against his will. “Humans hate the emotion as much as you do. It is something that symbolizes their worst fears, their panic, their hatred for themselves and one another. It makes them lose sight of sanity, driving them to do acts unthinkable by giving them a courage of passivity.” The angel swirled back around and faced the android with cold eyes. “And yet, those who refuse to be angry only pent up its fury for one tremendous explosion in the future, like a container under high internal pressure. Holding the substance in only creates larger problems. You see, my friend, control of one’s temper is good, but there is a fine line between restraint and denial. I was merely attempting to vent your heat and teach you that it needed to be released, for denial will make neither it nor your problems disappear.”

Edge stood there speechless, his aura having died away with the flame of his words. Was this the source of his angst? His ignorance?

“And so,” he whispered. “I have not learned that, have I?”

“You might have eventually,” said Adam. “But you seemed to have a hard time doing so, having to worry about so many other things and the such. Search out the road that you have taken since you had chosen to ignore me. What do you see? Anger leads to self-hatred---”

“Oh god,” said Edge beneath his breath. The B_E_A_S_T. Ba*ke*mo*no da. What had he done? Did he care so little that he would allow his hate to hurt those around him, his friends, Yoshime? How selfish he had been...?

“What have I done?”

“--- and self-hatred leads to insanity,” finished Adam, watching as Edge crumpled to his knees. “You, in your degradation, have sought out the easiest exit to your problems. Death. And doing as such, you have left yourself vulnerable to your demons.” The winged one knelt down beside the broken child and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. His words no longer held the subtle sting of reproach, only the calming sooth of flowing water, like a river to wash away his sin.

“You cannot be a coward anymore. I refuse to let you be afraid of the very thing you seek to achieve.”

...

Double raced down the dimming hallways with no clue as to his direction.

“Damned base layout,” he muttered under his breath. “Didn’t the idiot who built this place know how to organize a fortress?” The identical shafts of darkness merely wound themselves in a maze until Double couldn’t even tell if he had been running around in circles. A dim light suddenly appeared at the end of the tunnel and the assassin smiled grimly. That had to be it. Everybody else was off defending against Yujin’s assault. As he neared the small oasis in the void, voices came within range of his hearing sensors.

“Fumiya’s already at the front line?” came the first voice.

“Yeah, the fool bastard still thinks he can take on the world.”

The assassin stopped short when he heard the second. That was Gared, the officer whom Fumiya had supposedly ‘punished’ for his so-called lack of proper judgment. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since they were attacked, so why was that nut still free? Regaining speed but flowing along the ground instead of running in order to reduce noise, Double inched himself nearer to the conversation.

“Shit, man. He’s going to kill himself if he keeps that up. Then what’re we going to do?”

“Don’t worry,” said Gared, slapping a large metal object. “I’m going out there to keep him in line, if the case may prove my assistance needed. Hopefully, I’ll get there in time. Besides, once we finish deluding our poor guests, we’ll never have to worry about the boss going nuts again.”

Double’s eyes narrowed viciously as his armor bristled with thorns of anger.

...

Gared strode confidently down the dark hallways, shouldering a long, covered object that resembled a torpedo in shape and size. As he whistled out a familiar tune, he failed to notice the shifting movement above his head as it followed him down the rectangular corridor. As the amorphous mass dropped from the ceiling and tackled the officer from behind, he struggled to keep hold of his possession as he was lifted to his feet in a lightning quick swirl of metal. Double’s furious scowl did nothing for his grip.

“I trusted neither you nor that fake commander of yours for a second,” growled the assassin, holding Gared against the wall with one hand and drawing back his other in the blade of a scythe. “You better open your mouth right now or I’ll have to recall some of my old interrogation tactics!”

“The hell are you talking about?!” sputtered the officer. “I don’t know what you’re---!”

“I heard the whole thing, you little shit!” roared Double, bashing his captive’s head against the wall and breaking his nose. “Now pour it out before I have to rip you open! What the hell did you mean by ‘we’ll never have to worry about the boss going nuts again?’ ”

“Are you stupid?” hissed Gared reluctantly, holding his broken muzzle. “Why do you think Fumiya wanted your corazon chips in the first place?”

“So it’s not for some crazy humanitarian project after all,” muttered the killer, his blade unintentionally growing with his anger and raising the stress level of his prisoner.

“You fool! You have to let me go or you’ll get us all killed!” said the officer, his cold voice bordering on panic.

“What are you talking about?” said Double warily. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You saw Fumiya’s sickness, didn’t you?” The man’s eyes were growing wild, clutching his bundle nervously. “You saw him inject his medicine, right? He’s already gone up to the front lines, the careless idiot! If he doesn’t get this stuff in time then we’re all screwed!”

Double looked down at the brown canvas package and tore off the sheet, revealing a long-range high powered sniper rifle, a six-inch dart filled with watery yellow liquid already loaded in.

“This is an elephant gun, not a syringe,” he growled.

“I know,” came Gared’s stiff reply.

...

Kouryuu heaved out breaths in long, heavy huffs. She was down to one sword, held loosely by her left side, her power down to thirty-four percent. She watched in despair as the tireless shell of Edge screamed horribly into the air and solidified sparkling energy in its hands, arming itself with sabers of white light. Double had certainly been correct about one thing; this was a loosing battle. So why did she raise her single blade in defiance despite her wavering hope? She laughed under her breath for she already knew the answer. Loyalty, pure and simple. And maybe she wasn’t protecting Fumiya’s troops, just as Double had said. Maybe she was protecting something a lot closer, a lot more meaningful. Her friends.

“Edge,” she murmured, staring at the hypnotized creature before her. Why had he changed back so suddenly? More importantly, why had he turned on them? “Snap out of it.”

To her surprise, the young boy abruptly stopped in his tracks, almost on cue with her words. He turned his head up to the air, as if searching out a scent. When his soulless eyes came back down, they rested in the direction of Fumiya and Yoshime on the wings. With a howl of satisfaction, knowing that his current opponent had already been drained of stamina, he bounded over in the direction of his newfound toys.

“No!” thought Kouryuu, forcing her stiff body forward to cut off the advancing attack. “This is bad! Very bad!!!” Damage to herself was one thing, but Yoshime hardly had that kind of armor resistance on her frame. But as she sliced forward through the air, her head suddenly slammed into a telekinetic wall of force, dropping her to the ground with little grace.

“I’m afraid we can’t have any of that,” grinned Yujin as he towered over her. “You’ll just have to let my new ‘toy’ play its course!”

She watched hopelessly as Edge dived towards the couple, deprived of the ability to come to their rescue. She was filled with only a bit of thankfulness when Edge wrapped his armored hands about the neck of Fumiya instead of Yoshime.

...

“Fumiya!!!” shouted out Yoshime as she watched Edge’s fingers lift the spiky-haired mercenary off the ground and attempt to choke the life from his body. She hesitated for a second before she began to administer solid blows with the end of her rifle across the back of the mecha’s neck.

“Let him go!!” she cried out wildly, repeatedly bringing her cudgel up and down in a hail of powerful strikes. How could this be her Edge, so spiteful, so full of unwanted rage? How it have come to this, she having to protect a stranger from his destructive actions?! No, this couldn’t be his true self. It had to be Yujin’s doing! Her Edge would never act like this!

“Kk... no use!” spat out Fumiya, desperately trying to keep his windpipe open. “No time!” He fumbled wildly for his jacket pocket as his arm began to spasm. “Too... much adreneline!!! Need medicene!” His fingers feebly grabbed the needle from its holding place, but the shaking had become far too violent. His mouth arched open in unnatural ways, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, Fumiya’s hand let the medical instrument fall to the floor in favor of falling into a series of small quakes. “God---damnit~! NoT*...*nOw*?--!~!”

Yoshime backed off in fear as she watched the white fire slowly catch on the man’s fingers, now turning into a clawed grip of hate. She instinctively raised her weapon to fend off the threat, this new creature emerging in a fervor of violence in her midst. And she watched in strange confusion as the new, purple-haired devil grasped the program-driven Edge by the head and swung him about in the air before thrashing his cranium about upon the ground. And as the green-haired beast stared up in confusion of its own fault, a pillar of deep, purple flame engulfed them both.

This creation’s hatred was not one of noise and scream. It was private, silent, and cancerous.

...

“You cannot let yourself give in to that hatred. You cannot give in to that fear.”

But I’m so afraid...

“Then fight it.”

I can’t.

“You must.”

...

Double dragged the resisting Gared out into the hanger with little resistance. Whatdid the fool mean to do with a gun like that? Mostly likely snipe himself and the others off one by one, that’s what! However, his mind quickly changed once he witnessed the scenario encompassing the battlefield he had left only minutes ago. As soon as Fumiya’s raging demon came into view, all speech lost his lips.

“We’re too late,” muttered Gared. “Once Fumiya has that much adrenaline in his body, it’s near impossible to stop him.” The assassin simply gawked. How the hell did Edge go insane again? Had Yujin done something with him? Shaking his head doubtfully, he forced all his questions out of his mind. Now was not the time for controversy. It was time for answers.

Double grabbed the officer’s front shirt forcefully and yanked his face close to his, putting on his most menacing stare possible.

“You said NEAR impossible,” said Double. “So how do I do it?”

Gared merely stared at the assassin as one might stare at someone who had just condemned themself to death.

“You fool,” he sputtered out. “We’re already too late, our only chance is if your insane lacky---”

“QUIT BABBLING AND TELL ME HOW TO STOP HIM!!!” roared Double, heaving with anger. He would not let this puny little excuse for a soldier try to tell him what was and was not possible. Real soldiers didn’t need to question the validity of the situation at hand, for they had already set their standards up before they decided to leap into the bowels of hell. This was nothing more than a pathetic excuse for a man, one who was afraid to face the reality of the situation before him.

The officer’s face flushed white with fear as the words suddenly flooded out of his mouth.

“Th---theoretically, the medicine that Fumiya uses safely neutralizes adrenaline in his body into a harmless substance, one that doesn’t trigger his sickness,” he said. “Usually an injection in the arm will do the trick, but that’s only for a minor attack. For something like this, we need to shoot the dart---the size you see here--- directly in his heart so that the medicine can circulate through the entire body. Normally, if the situation was this severe, we could catch him in mid-transformation when he was still vulnerable. But in his full rage, he’s far too fast of a target to track with that kind of weapon.”

“I don’t believe in the impossible,” grunted Double as he hefted the weapon in his arms. It was as large and heavy as a rail gun, obviously meant for stationary shooting. Great. Just what he needed. “And you’ll stay put until I’m done!” he added, letting his liquid form flow and attaching circular bonds of mercury around Gared’s wrists and ankles. “By the way, if you move an inch I’ll change your shackles into a FAR more harmful isotope. If you value basic functions like walking, then I suggest you stay still.”

He dashed off with the large rifle tucked firmly under his arm, leaving Gared to fidget meekly in place and contemplate his radius of movement.

...

Yujin cursed under his breath as he watched the newly enraged Fumiya tear into his drone with relish. What did that fool think he was doing? Edge may bow down to his will now, but the boy was for him alone to finish off! Even though Toy’s program did seem to add a little vigor to the prototype’s attack, Edge was slowly becoming less and less effective in the heat of the conflict. At any rate, he was losing, a certain possibility of death. He would not stand for it. The corpse of the green-haired traitor would be his to claim!

The general was suddenly between the two combatants in a shower of blue sparks, smashing his huge fist down upon the head of the confused Fumiya.

“Get out of my way!” he roared. “If anyone deserves the honor of killing the Edge unit, it shall be me!”

Fumiya Sang Wu only crawled to his feet, staggering up in the crater that had been smashed into the ground, holding an ugly growl in his throat, eyes full of animal intelligence, and corrupted purple flames dropping like raindrops from his fingertips. In his eyes was not a rancor of universalities. Only of a single memory that haunted his past.

...

“Hatred...” whispered Edge, sitting in the darkness. Such a powerful feeling. He hated himself and thus sought death. Was it this emotion which ran the rules of life? Was this what he was looking for?

“Do not give in to that lie,” said Adam, standing over the android with his blade at his side. “If you do, then you have already lost.”

“But what else is there? All I have done is fight, maim, destroy, kill, all actions of hate and fear, all actions that dictate that I must destroy the opposition because they are afraid of my power or wish to harness it to eliminate another they fear, or vice versa. My life is hate!! And look what it has solidified into! A horrible creature that I have neglected to cage safely from the world!”

“You must understand that it does not have to be this way at all,” said the angel. “Your life up to now is only a sliver of your existence, a single possibility out of thousands. You can still change where you go.”

“But what about my mind?” said Edge, downtrodden. “Maybe I can change my direction, but I can’t forget my own shame, my own crimes, my own sin. It’s all simply too much...”

Adam merely smiled.

“It is always too much for those who have not learned how to try,” he said. Bending down, the seraph took the android’s metal gloves into his own strong hands. “You have always fought with these.” He then took his left index finger and traced it over the center of Edge’s chest. “It is time you learned to fight with this.”

Edge retraced the finger with his own as he stared downward.

“I’m a robot,” he whispered.

“And that is what you shall forever be if you continue to think that way,” said Adam. “I am human, but then, what are these?” he said, motioning to his fluffy pairs of wings. “We are only so much as what we believe we are. We achieve only what we believe we can achieve. You must learn this lesson before all else, otherwise you shall forever reside in the shell of a marionette. We all experience madness; that is a byproduct of life. If we cannot conquer it ourselves, then we die.”

The young boy solemnly looked up at the winged man, his eyes trembling to find that which he lacked. Adam merely lent him his smile to support his weight.

“Try, Edge,” said the angel. “You have to try if you want to fight.”

"... I will try.”

...

‘Give me a chance! One chance!!!’ cried out Double in his head as he witnessed the sudden conflicting jumble tangle in the fierce battle before him. Any one of the three combatants out in the ring could stomp him flat if they did so desire, so fighting was not an option. If he was going to wrap this battle up for the group, he would have to rely on wit.

‘Don’t think. Just act.’ that was one of the rules of being an assassin. All plans were made up prior to the mission. Everything else was improvisation. Risk was not an option. Life was. Don’t think.

“Act!” he murmured, springing forward with both legs, flowing along the ground like a phantom without substance. His velocity increased until his frame threatened to give out under the air resistance. Would the gun still work if his body was already reaching critical levels? No time to worry about that now, should have considered that variable before he had jumped into the fire.

Like a bullet being fired from its barrel, Double leapt into the air in a streak of red silver, aiming his body for the two meter space between the rabid Fumiya and psychotic Yujin. He twisted around until his aim became perpendicular to Fumiya’s shoulderblades, raising the gun to chest level and praying for the best as he flew into the depths of the void.

Out of the corner of his eye, Double saw Yujin’s eyes flicker. He had been spotted.

“Shit!” cursed the assassin. But if he moved to react now then he would miss his chance to nail Fumiya. Perhaps Yujin and the mercenary could tear each other to shreds--- something Double had no problem with--- but Edge was still stuck in the middle of the mess and one insane fool was easier to deal with than two. Edge’s welfare certainly wasn’t worth the price of his own selfishness... was it? Damnit, who the hell was sticking those things in his head? If he had still been in the government, he would have opted to save his own life in an instant, but now... Double chuckled to himself as he steadied the weapon sight. Damn Kouryuu and her foolish sense of morals. They were about to get him killed. And so he steadied himself for the single shot, determined to grasp a small victory before Toy’s general dealt him a death blow.

Suddenly, a spark flashed through the air above him, sticking firmly through Yujin’s palm and causing him to unleash a roar of surprise and frustration. Double only caught a fleeting glimpse of the object, but he saw enough to know that it was Kouryuu’s shinning katana that had provided the distraction he needed. He could already see her smiling, teasing him about how he would have been screwed without her.

“That bitch!” laughed the killer. “I guess I owe you one now!”

Just as he shot like an arrow between the battling behemoths, Double pulled the trigger and launched the six-inch tranquilizer needle straight into Fumiya’s heart. As the animal screeched out in fury and collapsed in a series of spasms behind him, he rolled out of his wild ride and forced himself to a crouched battle position, blades drawn.

...

Yujin pulled the flaring blade from his hand with a growl, quickly scanning the area for his opponents. Double had just landed from his extended flight and Kouryuu was already retrieving her other weapon. Fumiya was out as though he had been hooked up on enough cocaine to stun a rhino. Was that it? No matter, now that he was unoccupied he would kill them all. The fight had dragged on for long enough. Time to end it nice and clean.

“Playtime is over!!!” he roared, filling the room with his voice. The peons stared up in sudden terror as the self-proclaimed god began to siphon the plasma residue leftover from fighting, gathering it in a single blazing power ball above his head. A neutron bomb. Only he and Edge, covered by his own shielding system, would survive the blast, the latter to be tortured at his convenience in the future. ‘No more games,’ thought Yujin as he grinned menacingly. No more procrastination of the final judgment. victory would be his!!!” V

Suddenly, the red fire above his head ceased to exist, threads of energy having been pulled from their place. As Yujin stared upwards in confusion, he felt his gut contort inwards upon itself before violently expanding. A fiery bolt of electricity jolted him into the far wall, draining his energy levels dramatically and shaking the entire chamber with a foreboding groan.

“DAMN!” cursed Yujin as he picked himself out of the dented metal. “Whoever did that, I’ll---!” He stopped in mid-sentence, stunned by what he saw before him. There was Edge, half standing, struggling to get his knees under his body, his right arm outstretched towards the caped general. His body crackled with an aura of electromagnetic power, three black orbs of null space circling his body and casting solid bolts of lightning to and from his shaking form. But his eyes blazed with a dark light, no longer filled with the white void of primal hunger. And he looked up with a stolid wrath planted firmly in his frame, his gaze full once again with human intelligence.

“Impossible!” said the general. How had he escaped the program? How had he broken those lines of code that his own master had written? Perhaps a better question would be to ask why was he so strong after being drained from so much fighting? Yujin’s head twitched from side to side, searching for Yuusuke and Vomisa. Where in the world were those two fools?

A thin laser of heat suddenly pierced his head and Yujin shook off the blast, angry orbs of death searching for his attacker as he held his scorched skull. From the corner he spied the traitor, Asimov, and the Zero mech, the former nearly recovered from battle.

“Unit Vomisa has sustained heavy damage, has pulled out of complex for internal repairs,” called out Vomisa abruptly over his comm-link. “Yuusuke’s brain organ still intact but body has been completely annihilated. Scan of general’s current power level, fifty percent. Number of opponents: six. Chances of victory: twenty-three point three percent. Retreat is the recommended course of action.”

Yujin stared with wide eyes at the warriors before him. And where had he gone wrong this time? No!!! He couldn’t accept defeat, he couldn’t go back empty-handed! That was what his revenge---this campaign---had been for! He needed something to proclaim him the victor, anything! He couldn’t lose again! Even if he died, he needed to kill Edge! He would kill Edge!!!

With a scream of defiance, he bounded towards the object of his hatred with his telekinetic and energy manipulation powers tearing up all that stood in his way. The green-haired mech held his ground, melded into his stance and waiting for the giant to come within range. Yujin’s massive hands rose above his head, fingers locking in preparation for a two-armed hammer blow, all of his destructive energy being fused into his raging limbs for a single, terrible strike.

“DIE~!!!” he screamed, bringing his arms down with a blow that would have destroyed the world. But mere millimeters before the piledriver made contact, he was jolted to a stop by an unseen force.

“I see that you’ve chosen to ignore my warnings,” came Toy’s icy voice, transcending the conventional comm-link and speaking directly to Yujin’s brain. A cold fear gripped the general as he realized his mistake and he tried desperately to take back his actions, knowing all too well that his remorse came too late. “Disobedience is not tolerated in my ranks. You shall suffer the consequences for going against my word.”

Screaming his plea for mercy, Yujin disappeared from the hanger bay like a shadow being cast away by the rising sun, taken away from his sweet goal of solace.

...

The second after Yujin disappeared, Edge collapsed heavily to his knees, no longer able to support his own weight. One point one percent energy left. His bluff not taken, he would have died if it wasn’t for whatever mysterious force dragged out Toy’s warrior at the last second. Had he known his savior, he would have been kissing his feet in gratitude.

Yoshime was already dashing over to him in a bustle, her portable computer and tool sets already out to make analysis checks and repairs. She was always so thoughtful to him, always worrying about him. There was no doubt in his mind that she had seen him this time... and yet, she still ran over as protective as ever. What did she think of that side of him? He had to know if she hated it as much as he did...

“Edge!!!” she called out, dropping to his side and glomming onto his arm protectively. “Are you all right?!”

He merely looked up at her sparkling blue eyes and smiled the most beautiful smile he had even created in his whole life.

“I tried.”

Yoshime caught his head as he fell into the dark sleep of stasis...

...

A group of soldiers had already surrounded Fumiya, helping him to his feet, but Double merely shoved past them and stared the mercenary in the eye. He had a bit of business to settle.

“You lied to us,” he said, a furious storm building beneath the calm wake. His right arm fell into the elongated shape of a vicious blade that rested directly under the purple-haired man’s jugular. “I heard everything from your little middle man. You better tell me the truth right now before I decide to split your throat.”

Fumiya merely stared back with firm resolve, waving away the efforts of protection from his men but only because he knew that they would stand no chance against the assassin.

“Do I have a choice?” he breathed, but Double only lent pressure on the blade, drawing a bead of blood from his throat. “I guess not,” sighed Fumiya, straightening his jacket. “You’ve had a good look at my so-called ‘sickness’ now. It started in an ambush from my father’s men. They managed to hit me with a chemical weapon and as a result, my body’s adrenaline creates these painful flames.”

“But what the hell does this have to do with wanting our corazon chips?” said the killer, holding his weapon steady.

Fumiya sighed with indignity as he continued.

“One of my spies overheard that the corazon chip is capable of emulating emotion,” he said with shaking fury. “Supposedly, had I gotten my hands on one of those rare baubles, I would have been able to create a specialized machine within myself, preventing the production of adrenaline by controlling my emotional status. Thus would be how I would have prevented my agony.”

“So it was greed all along,” sneered Double. “And the plan for an end to the government? False information?”

“They were all lies!” shouted Fumiya as he began to break down, nervously grabbing a nearby syringe from a colleague and injecting himself with medicine. “But you haven’t lived my life! You never had to go through all the pain and suffering that I’ve had! You heartless piece of scrap metal! You never---”

He was suddenly cut off by Double’s fist as a red gauntlet crashed into his face and sent him tumbling to the ground. As the mercenary wiped his lip and crawled up to stand, Double rubbed his knuckled hands threateningly and spat in his direction.

“You disgust me,” growled the assassin, turning on heel to leave. “We’re leaving, but if I ever see your face again---” He glanced over his shoulder and menacingly ejected his fingers into long claws. “---I won’t be so merciful as I was now.”

He paused one last time, turning back to address the bleeding man. “I HAD a bit of respect for you, knowing that you openly defied the most powerful crime lord in the history of the world, knowing that you had that kind of courage. But now... now what? After the tricks you’ve played? Perhaps you may hold noble goals, but your methods reek of corruption. Those flames are fitting for your personality. You’re no better than your father.”

Without another word, Double walked off to join the rest of friends, not once looking back. He never noticed Fumiya expertly toss a small adhesive tracer into the folds of his scarf.

...

Morning silently rose to greet the sleeping group, surfing over the desert wasteland in their repaired hovercraft. The other mecha still asleep for energy recharge, Yoshime lay exhausted from completing repairs on the run, and Iesu seemed to have contracted some sort of strange sickness during their brief stay at Fumiya’s. Only Double and Kouryuu were awake, the former handling the wheel.

“Double?” said the rebel, pausing in her sentence, almost as if reconsidering what she had to say. “I’m... I’m sorry. I guess you had been right all along, Fumiya Sang Wu was a crock.”

The killer let the stillness hang in the air for a while. Had he heard what she just said correctly? The high-and mighty Kouryuu apologizing to him? His initial reaction was to take advantage of the situation, to tower over her with his pride and arrogance. And remembering her shining light stuck in Yujin’s hand, he didn’t quite feel like saying as such... not then.

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled in a low voice, trying to hide the favor he owed. He had just left himself wide open for attack, an injustice in the book of assassins. Looking to the side, he saw her wide-eyed expression of surprise. Now what? Would she berate him? Lecture him? Smack him? Oh yes, she certainly loved to smack him.

But all she did was sigh and smile, and left it at that. And somehow that made him smile as well, for it made all the difference in the world.

...

Fumiya lay reclined in his chair, staring at the photo on his desk. It must have been at least fifteen years old. Its frame held two people, a tall, blond man with fierce dignity upon his face and a small purple-haired boy below him, barely smiling for the cameraman. Why did he keep such a horrible relic? A reminder, that was right, a reminder for his reason for fighting.

So what troubled him so damn much?

The tracer was set, he would be able to keep track of the heroes of Dollet in the future. They would most certainly lead him to greater power. His losses were substantial, but not so much so as to cripple his cause. Men for hire were easy to find and their resources hadn’t been drained so much that they could not recover.

So what troubled him?

He knew now. It was something the assassin had said. And it haunted him.