"Are you crazy?" I exclaim, the shock of all the shit hitting the fan at once getting to me, "You seriously expect me to throw down against a god?"

"No, Transmigrator." The Voice sighs, "I will be battling Fate. I expect you to keep ORPO at bay while I am occupied. So as the people of your dimension would say, 'calm your tits'."

"My tits are as calm as cucumbers." I snort, folding my arms, "I just can't help but feel you are downplaying the situation."

"The situation is what it is." The Voice verbally shrugs, "The sooner you accept it, the faster we can take the necessary action."

I nod tiredly in response and the laptop's screen shifts to show the status of the Dreaming Spires Inclinator. All readings are green, but suddenly an angry red flash streaks across the screen and the words 'LOCKED DOWN' are smeared across the window in massive bold print. Cameras mounted in the Inclinator's shaft display the elevator retreating into the depths of the Sarcophagus before a pair of hulking blast doors seals the shaft from the surface.

"Excellent. Now listen." The Voice begins, "I have recalled the Inclinator back to the Sarcophagus and locked down the access shaft. This means that the most direct path to the hub is a several thousand meter drop past the Sarcophagus's blast door."

"Clever." I remark, "That takes ORPO's tanks and regular infantry out of the picture. No way those units can survive the drop down the shaft. But can Fate even get past the blast door in the first place? You told me that the Sarcophagus was designed to resist a nuclear strike."

"Readings from the Crossroads indicate that the blast door will buy us time," The Voice rasps, "but it will not keep hold Fate off indefinitely. I also wish to remind you that ORPO's mechs are capable of flight and will survive the drop into the Sarcophagus. Your presence is very much a necessity."

"Fine. Fine. Keep going." I mutter.

The Voice rumbles as it pulls up a map of Six Trees District on to the laptop's screen, "Due to the lock down I have triggered, you will not be able to reach the hub directly. Instead, you will journey to the Inclinator located at Six Trees District and access the Sarcophagus from there. Once you are underground, make your way to the monorail station. I will have a shuttle prepared to take you to the hub."

A bright highlighted line is drawn on the map, showcasing the route from Six Trees Hills to the District's Inclinator. I take a long hard look at the map, committing the route to my memory.

"Got it." I grunt in affirmation.

"Are you sure?" The Voice asks, "I was under the impression that you were directionally challenged. Be aware that I will not be able to guide you once you leave the hideout."

"When I say I got it, it means I got it, OK?" I answer waspishly from the stress, "Have some faith."

"Mhm. Strange for a mortal to make such a demand from a god, but we live in strange times." The Voice concedes, "I have prepared your mode of conveyance. Now I must attend to the hub's defences. I will meet you there soon."

The line over the earpiece goes dead and at the same time, a loud crashing noise comes from the partition screening the shower from the rest of the Pit. The cheap wooden cubicle falls apart as the ORPO patrol bike rolls out from the shower stall.

"How did you get the bike to fit in there anyway?" I ask.

No response. Seems like The Voice is serious about being busy. Strapping the sword securely to my back, I proceed to pull on the black executioner's hood. I would have preferred, you know, a proper motorcycle helmet, but beggars can't be choosers. Mounting the bike, my awareness expands as I probe the basement parking area with matter sense, tracking the positions of the thugs Matsui had left behind here. A small handful of them, nothing I can't handle. Satisfied, I mount the patrol bike and gun the engine, its roar causing the walls of the Pit to tremble.

I send the bike charging forward at full tilt, smashing apart the doors of the Pit. The bike peels towards the exit, accelerating rapidly. As the panicking Matsui enforcers clumsily move on foot to intercept me, I draw the sword and swing it at the nearest flunky, decapitating him in a single stroke. The enforcers scatter before their comrade's head hits the ground as I punch through the siege and disappear into the night.

.....

My mind's eye focuses as I recall the route to the Inclinator, sending the bike towards a series of old warehouses. All things considered, I should have expected something like this happening. The Voice had personally intervened in the battle for the codex. Once that happened, all bets were off. Fate would not have allowed such an escalation to go unanswered. This reasoning does not make me feel any better though. The Voice and Fate throwing down would be like a pair of elephants fighting to the death. No matter who wins, everything around them would be trampled. I have no idea what kind of heat the two gods are packing in the upcoming battle, but I would do well to keep my head down when things get hot. Either that or make sure to have plenty of ORPO bodies around me to serve as a meat shield.

A hard swerve of the bike takes me into a turn I very nearly missed and just ahead of me is the warehouse The Voice's map had indicated. Unlike the Dreaming Spires Inclinator, the Inclinator at Six Trees was hidden in a warehouse, probably to keep it away from vandals or more likely junkies trying to salvage scrap metal and wires for their fix. It would be pretty embarrassing for The City if a war breaks out and no one could use the Inclinator thanks to the code box being carted off to buy a few hits of Special K.

The doors of the warehouse are open, inviting me in. Great, I'm in the right place. The motorbike carries me through the threshold of the warehouse, when suddenly a stray thought hits.

The Voice can't manipulate anything on the surface not linked to the hub.

My mind screams a warning at me just as a metal girder suspended by a length of cable is swung from the rafters straight towards my head. My enhanced reflexes take over and I power slide under the incoming projectile, causing the tires of the motorbike to squeal and burn in protest. The bike continues to slide towards the end of the warehouse, where the Inclinator squats like a metal sphinx. There's a low hum of engines running and the lights on the Inclinator's display are green, but the shutter resolutely refuses to open.

The Voice must be waiting for me to clear out the ambush before opening the Inclinator up. Cursing at this unwelcome wrinkle in the plan, I pull at the motorbike's handles hard, righting the contraption before dismounting. My eyes drift to the rafters above me, where a series of figures are perched, hunched over like overgrown monkeys.

"Boo!" a childlike voice says, "The bad man managed to dodge!"

My eyes focus on the speaker. Its Peter Pan, all the way back from the Kingdom of Love. The last I saw him, I had shot a massive hole in his gut. He's looking much better today, physically at least. Don't know about how his head is doing.

"Get out of here." I wave dismissively, "You guys are way to small time for me."

Peter Pan bares his teeth angrily at me, looking more monkey like by the minute. Before Peter Pan can do anything though, the figure crouching next to him pulls at his shoulder. Its Spikes, still with the outrageously gelled hair and piercings. Spikes gives me an ugly look before leading Peter Pan away from me, as the group makes their way towards the opposite end of the warehouse, loping through the rafters as they go.

Most of the group that is. There is one lone figure staying where he is, dressed in a dirty school uniform, hunched over with his face turned down. As his fellows back away, the figure's lifts his head up and sniffs the air like a wild animal.

An unkempt and unshaven face, with eyes that radiate lunacy. But I recognize that teenager all the same. Its Delinquent. A low snarl emits from Delinquent's mouth and he drops from the rafters with a pounce, landing on the ground before me on all fours.

'Aren't you supposed to be retarded?" I ask Delinquent as he stalks towards me, using his arms to propel his body like a parody of an ape.

"Ugh. Ugh. Ugh." Delinquent pants with his tongue rolling about, slavering as he approaches me, "Urrrggghhh."

"Yeah. Definitely retarded." I note, drawing my sword. This isn't going to be murder, its a mercy killing.

Delinquent lifts his body and thrusts his chest forward, beating it with his fists. A shrill animalistic battle cry booms from the depths of Delinquent's lungs.

"REEEEEE"

And with that, Delinquent, the man who became a monkey charges into battle.