I was half way down the next corridor before I stopped, mentally slapping myself. Turning, I ran back to the blood-stained room and gingerly gathered the sixteen limbs into a pile before slapping them with a cleansing pill, hoping it would work. I had never used one of the pills on a random pile of limbs before, but I could think of no reason it should not work. Luckily, it did.

I had to leave behind some of the crap I had collected, mostly Risen Throne robes and clothing, but I did manage to slip all of the arms and legs into storage. DUK3 was unlikely to care, given his own efforts were apparently superior, but I wondered if Walker, or maybe the alchemists back home would be able to do anything with them. Grisly task completed, I slapped myself with a cleansing pill – my clothes might clean themselves, but my skin and hair did not, and I had caught a whiff of my gore-spattered beard. Ew.

Leaving the hall once more, the world rocked around me and again rang like a gong. This time, it motion was not isolated, but rather was followed by an almost constant vibrational buzz, interposed with the occasional deeper wave.

The constant buzz made it difficult to determine direction, if only because the returning waves were causing interference – and giving me a headache. Taking a guess based on memory, I set out again.

After a few minutes of travel, I once again mentally slapped myself and Focused, pushing it as far as I could without dipping into my reserves and letting my perceptions and reactions slow the vibrations so I could more easily determine where they were coming from. Surer of my course, I ran on – quicker.

I was moving down my fourth hallway – the glowing lines that provided light were flickering frantically - I found myself gliding on a near frictionless floor, remaining upright only because of my heightened reaction times and the very firm footing provided by my strangely thin shoes.

Coming to a stop, I looked down, and in the staccato flickering found what looked like red ice coating the floor. Confused by the presence of ice on what had always been a warm floor, I reached down to find the material slick, like ice, but warm. I thought back to the blood of the invaders, trying to recall whether I had noticed it being particularly slippery, and wondered if perhaps this was how it dried? If so, there was a likely as fantastic market for them as frictionless materials. I pictured an axle coated in the stuff for a moment before shaking the image loose and discarding it. Looking closer, I could see the slick upper layers hardening into geometric patterns, again as if it was being frozen, but neither it, nor anything else was anything but pleasantly warm.

Another shock rocked me, so I stood, dismissing the mystery of the red ice to take off again. I was yet to see any other signs of the invaders – unless you counted the ice – but I doubted the entire invasion force amounted to four random mooks and whoever the Construct was fighting.

Six corridors and five large halls later, I came across two more of the odd feathered lizard people, again with all four limbs replaced. I did not even stop that time, merely pushed on my Exemplar and lashed out in passing. I now knew that their bodies – and heads – did not benefit from the same augmentation the prosthetics resulted in, and force being a function of mass and acceleration, I was packing a lot of it. The heads of the two figured did not quite explode, but given the unnatural angle and shapes that they bore after I had passed, I had some real doubts that they would be getting back up.

It did occur to me how easy I seemed to have found killing people since my re-birth; I had chosen not to, once in the forest when we had been ambushed, but that was when I had time to stop and think about it. Whenever it happened in the heat of things, I mostly seemed to dismiss it, and I did not know enough about psychology to know if that was normal or not. I half suspected Xiournal had done something to me, as most of my actions and reactions since she had ‘hired’ me had been somewhat strange when compared to my memories. I had attributed it to my new body’s biochemistry at first, but that did not explain everything. Another thing to add to the list of things I wanted to discuss with her if we ever met again. Though, if I kept world hopping, maybe we would meet up to renegotiate... provided that vaporizing me had not just been an idle threat.

Another large shudder drew me though an arched door to cut through what looked like DUK3’s lab, but I had no idea if he had more than one. As I moved across the room, Instinctive Precognition screamed a warning and I cartwheel onto my left hand before tensing my core, kick and using the torque to shift the angle of my momentum, flinging me sideways.

As I flew to the side, a door - something I did not think I had ever noticed in the facility – flew across the room, bent, broken and with enough force to smash through the equipment that stood between it and the opposite wall. Through the now doorless arch, a figure strode. Clad in jet black armour decorated with circles that glowed a dull cherry red, this lizard-guy sported a helmet over cobalt blue scales, with a yellow line visible down the centre of its face.

Hitting and stepping off my own wall and onto the ground, I took the figure in; it was larger than the ones I had fought up to this point, standing at a little over six feet, though on closer inspection, I realised that the armour was not armour at all, but rather blended seamlessly into the creature's neck. It seemed that I had found an opponent who was further along in their system, and given the near total replacement - and helmet – I would not be able to simply go through this one.

Turning to look at me, the fullmetal asshole flinched back, and spoke in their irritatingly beautiful language.

“Ugh, what foul thing is this? You, wretched scaleless creature, what depredations has this Construct visited upon you? And is it catching?”

“You hear me, cloaca; me not look bad, me look good. Me not you, is me. You not be being me, sexing waste head...”

I was vaguely irritated at my inability to insult those guys with any eloquence, or even basic coherence, but I thought I had at least got the gist of it across.

“And imbecilic. Worry not, obscene thing, I will end your misery.”

“Sex that, cloaca. You know what, fuck your language. I bet you’d sound just as dumb speaking mine, with your dumb alien vocal cords!”

The figure tilted its head to lie parallel with a shoulder at my use of English, or at least as parallel as was possible while wearing a helmet. For a second, I thought the Fullmetal Asshole was going to ask me a question, but instead it turned, picked up some jagged piece of former-equipment and simply threw it at me like bullet.

Luckily for me, I am not just a pretty face. Dodging the metal neatly, I darted forward, closing the distance before Fullmetal could react and drove my closed fist into what should have been their stomach, as a test. As a result however, it hurt almost like I was punching metal, unsurprisingly. Other than that, there was no reaction at all from Fullmetal, not even a sound as my fist impacted.

Dancing back as one clawed metal hand swept through the space I had occupied, I began to step in and out, delivering blow after blow faster that they could react, each to a different part of the body, hoping to find a weakness. I even tried punching through the thin slits of the helmet, but my hand was simply too big. And none of it, not a single hit had any visible, or audible, effect on the figure, though I did notice that the decorative circles were growing brighter.

Once again, Instinctive Precognition howled and I half-turned and stepped back as the air tore and ignited where the centre of my chest would have been a fraction of a second earlier. I managed to avoid what would have no doubt been certain death, but I was still blasted backwards as the air imploded at the point of ignition.

With my perception turned up, I had plenty of time to enjoy my short flight, though the brief pain and blackout at the end sucked. Still, I was not out long and was groggily climbing to my feet before the Fullmetal Asshole had even taken two steps. Maybe I was getting used to being knocked out?

“You’re faster than you should be, freakish abomination. What grotesque alteration has been wrought within you, that your mind should fail you so? What bleak damnation has been worked upon you that your body inspire such revulsion, while containing such power? I suppose I shall find out, when I take your parts back with me.”

If I was a more sensitive guy – if I was how I had been in my last life – I would have found Fullmetal’s words to be quite hurtful, but I had grown – or had been changed, whatever – since then, and while I might strive for equanimity amongst my companions, I was in no fucking mood at that moment.

The Asshole turned to face me squarely, their stance relaxed and uncaring, making no effort towards defence. Underestimating me. I was already Focusing as hard as I could, but I tapped my Path once more, pushing Praxis to the limit of my channels, feeling my reserves dipping even at the bottom of an ocean of power. Time dragged out around me as I pulled the aura close, and I was across the room in a moment, driving all my accumulated momentum into the face of their helmet, hoping to break their neck, even if my blows were not doing much to the metal itself. I was out of luck though, as like before the blow landed without a sound or any sign of reaction. Frowning I took a step back, noting that the figure was not even attempting a defence. I know the enemy could move reasonably fast, my first fight had proved that, and though they were not as fast as me, or even some of my friends, they had still made an effort.

Eyes narrowed, I stretched out my will and pulled my aura tight around my left arm - I might be right-handed, but given the increased efficiency of my left’s compression, I thought what I was about to do would be more effective using it.

Time sprang back into motion around and sound unattenuated as my aura was crushed around my arm, and with a flicker of intent, I lost control of my new limb for an instant as a buzzing vibration ran through me.

Light flared as I regained sensation, blindingly white and my Instincts screamed. Faster than thought, my aura spread back around me, almost as tight as my skin and I found myself lifting my foot to kick off the unmoving bulk of the Fullmetal Asshole as hard as I could in until the instant blow recharged.

My kick sent me careening wildly through the air, and I still was not in control of my movements, reacting without volition in anticipation of events. I may not have been moving consciously, but I was still present, and perceiving the world in slow motion, and as such I noted with interest that I passed out of the door by which I had entered only to crash into the wall outside. Without knowing how, I did something to my arm as I impacted all motion was halted as the force was doubled back on the wall, a crater forming more than a foot deep in the metal as I landed, turned and began to sprint down the hall.

A sound like the world mourning was followed by a flash of light that threw my shadow ahead of me at multiple angles. I did not stop running – could not stop running – for more than half a real-time second, at which point I regained control and turned to find the walls of the corridor bent, scorched and – in places – molten. A wind, hot enough to curly my hair washed over as I stood looking back at the devastation that had been this section of the facility, and as I stared, a figure in black – that was black – stepped into the corridor, still moving slow relative to me, but easily as fast as the others I had fought. The Fullmetal Asshole was finally moving, and apparently completely unharmed. I had no idea how to beat them.