My breath hitches as the abyss breaks apart and time starts moving again. The smell of blood and carnage assaults my nostrils, while the pounding of the Primal Ape's feet pulls me back to the present. My eyes narrow at the sight of the bioform bearing down on me. I have no allies left to take the heat off me. My sorcery can't kill the Primal Ape in the next exchange. The monster hoots triumphantly, ready to end this battle.

But this isn't the end.

Its a new beginning for Alex Mann.

"Draw." I murmur, letting borrowed instinct take over. My right leg takes a step forward, with the gun hand extending outward. My left hand, still holding the casting focus, clenches into a fist and folds up to my armpit.

The Primal Ape drops on all fours, opting to sprint the remaining distance between us.

"Aim." I raise the gunsights to my eye level and tilt the barrel sideways very slightly. The muscles in my gun arm tense, bracing for the weapon's recoil and follow through.

The Primal Ape lowers its head, intending to skewer me with its pair of horns like an enraged bull. Nice going, presenting me with a literal bulls eye to shoot for. The memory of the target range at Excelsior School resurfaces again. Whether my history is now real or fraudulent doesn't matter.

The skills said fraudulent memories confer to me are real enough.

"Fire!" I shout and pull the trigger. Love has a hard, almost unpleasant trigger pull. As if the gun itself was unhappy about being wielded by me. The barrel nevertheless roars to life, vomiting out fire and lead at the Primal Ape.

The bioform's head is punched to the side as its struck by a gratifyingly tight grouping of shots. The Primal Ape stops in its tracks, one hand clamped over its now messed up face to staunch the steady bleeding. There's a whistling noise coming from the monster as well, thanks to part of its nose being blasted apart by yours truly. But Love only managed to score some cosmetic damage on the Primal Ape. Other than looking more ugly than ever, the bioform is tough enough to easily survive my attack. No problem. I just need to pull the trigger again.

And Love makes a dry click, discharging an empty magazine.

The Primal Ape's eyes shine with malicious intelligence. It knows how screwed I am. Just in time for me to lose the battle with my bladder, causing a warm heat to spread throughout my trousers. I instinctively button up my long jacket to prevent anyone from noticing my accident. I might be losing my life today, but losing my pride? Never going to happen.

What a weird thought for me to have. Since when did I bother about pride?

"Get back!" someone shouts and I realize its Rando Combatant, rising from the heap of corpses he had fallen into and carrying a sword.

Before I can work out how he managed to survive being swatted like a fly, Rando Combatant rushes forward and thrusts the sword straight into the Primal Ape's ankle. The charred carapace armor yields to Rando Combatant's strength and the blade slides into the monster's ankle with almost no resistance. Primal Ape's entire leg buckles and the monster begins to topple like a sawn down tree.

Right on top of me.

A strong hand grabs my shoulder and forcefully throws me backward. A dusky skinned man with a neat pencil mustache gives me a hurried nod before turning his attention back to the Primal Ape. My mind draws a blank at who this newcomer is, making me wonder why he's acting like we should know each other. Then I recognize the scraps of busted armor that were left from the beating Primal Ape gave this guy. He's the Warrior Captain.

The Warrior Captain interposes himself between me and the falling Primal Ape and grips his sword with both hands. Gritting his teeth, the Captain swings his sword at full strength, unleashing the largest shock wave yet. The Primal Ape's eyes widen in pure terror, but it has no way of dodging or defending itself from this strike. The shock wave sheers its way into the bioform's face, splitting Primal Ape's head into two. As the skies rain meat and quite possibly mutant brains down upon us, the monster collapses into the blood soaked ground.

Its finally over.

.......

I stare at the Quartermaster silently in pure disbelief.

"You know the rules." he says, "You want additional resupply, you need to pay."

"Are you seriously charging me for a clean set of clothes?" I ask, pointing at my bloodstained jacket for emphasis, "After all that has happened?"

"I've checked your record." the Quartermaster takes a cursory glance at the tablet in his hand, "You're not eligible for a new uniform until next year. So this request counts as additional resupply."

That same silence descends between us again and I can hear the Support Department laboring away with their fire extinguishers, putting out the last of the blaze that cut short my attempt at running away.

"Phoenix Guild is not a charity." the Quartermaster dully repeats, as if that stupid mantra means anything in a Rift.

I blink one of my eyes in irritation, those new contacts I got acting up again.

"Are you trying to proposition me?" the Quartermaster arches a brow inquisitively.

"Something got into my eye." I mutter distractedly. Since when did I start wearing contacts? I have never -

When you came to Crossroad City. To change your eye color.

"Sorry. Give me a minute." I turn away from the Quartermaster, rubbing my temples. Its that fabricated history butting into the present. Feeling my face up, I note that my beard has been grown out. Love sits snugly its holster, the cheap gun leather creaking as a hobble about what's left of the camp.

I never had a beard. Neither did I own a holster. Swallowing hard, I pull out Love to put my theory as to what happened to the test.

"Damn." I whisper, my eyes confirming my suspicions.

The ruby has vanished. In fact Love's handsome custom grip has disappeared, replaced by a mass produced grip. I tap the new grip experimentally. Plastic. The cheap, mundane stuff. The original furniture Love had was made out of some kind of alloy, probably crafted from Rift material. It also featured polished rosewood wood panels as well, if those visions I had can be believed. Love now looks distinctly different from its original form. The weapon has been fundamentally diminished too. By replacing the original exotic material grip and removing the matriarch's ruby, the gun has lost much of its power.

Why did I literally disfigure this work of art?

Because -

The answer is obvious. Because Love was too recognizable. I would be caught if I flaunted it about, even with the ruby gone.

So reconciling the past also forces physical changes in the present. That means the fraudulent history takes precedence. So I need to be sure that I can cope with the ramifications any time I perform reconciliation. And there will be another time, if the formless voice of my heart can be believed.

I holster Love and decide to go back to bickering with the Quartermaster for a set of new clothes. Then I notice the wound in my gut, damp with blood. Sighing to myself, I give up on the idea. The new clothes would just be ruined the moment I put them on. And I can't very well say I just want new trousers and underpants. Scooping up some of the blood and guts coating my jacket, I begin smearing the crap over my trousers, hopefully obscuring the fact that I had wet myself. With that done, I head to the medic to get the wound on my gut fixed.

Before I run into yet another interruption.

"Hey." a hard slap on my back is the only warning I get, "Good work out there. Takes guts, holding your ground like that when almost everyone else was running away."

Turning around, I note that the guy accosting me is the Warrior Captain. Up close, he's rather good looking, resembling the movie Arab prince archetype. Except that his face has been marred by a giant shiner thanks to the Primal Ape.

"Thanks?" I mutter back, wondering why the Warrior Captain is taking the time to talk to me.

"Where did you wander of to?" the Captain asks, eyeing my tattered armor, "We were trying to find you after the battle."

"I was with the Quartermaster. Needed to get a new set of clothes." I explain, falling into step with him.

"You're injured and worried about your clothes?" the Captain sounds incredulous, "Are you some kind of neat freak? Priorities, man."

"I just don't like walking around dirty." I answer plainly, dodging around the real reason of my pissed stained trousers and underpants, "Quartermaster was giving me a hard time."

"Because you didn't have the money?" the Captain shrugs, "Relax, we've all been there before. I'll put in the order for you later. Hand me your employee ID."

"Sure." I meekly comply, swept up by his momentum. I take out my wallet and rifle through the plastic inside, eventually finding my employee ID. Under the crest of the Phoenix Guild, my unfamiliar bearded face stares back, looking almost like a different person.

ADAM EVERETT

EMPLOYEE NO. XXXX-XXXX-XXXX

GENERAL DEPARTMENT

LICENCED BY CROSSROAD CITY AS: RIFT SORCERER THIRD CLASS

A new name to go along with my new face. Makes sense, but I'm struck with a sense of dissonance. I still think of myself as Alex Mann, but when history changed so did everyone's perception of me. All of this is making my head spin.

"Great." the Captain grunts as he memorizes my employee number, "I'll put in the request for a new uniform. Just tell the Quartermaster that Captain Latour authorized it."

As I thank Latour another time, I note that he's emitting a halo around his body. Latour is obviously not using any of his skills now, so what gives? A passive effect?

"Strange to see a sorcerer use a gun though." Latour comments offhandedly as he hands me back my ID.

"I trained a bit with one. Back when I was younger." I purse my lips, "Didn't actually study gunslinging."

"I noticed that. Your stance is too stiff." Latour says, "A gunslinger would be dashing about, not standing in the same spot all the time."

"Yeah." I agree blandly, "So why were you going about looking for me?"

"Felt I owed it to the people who fought side by side with me." Latour explains, "That's an important thing, you know? The Guild is not only about money."

"Really." I deadpan, "Employee orientation said something completely different."

"The Guild would be nothing without the people in it." Latour clicks his tongue, "Sometimes the people at the top forget that. Anyway, you were the last one unaccounted for."

"You already found that Combatant who went up against the Primal Ape?" I quiz as we walk toward the section of the camp where the medics are based, "How did he survive the battle? And you, I saw you get sent flying!"

"Yeah, that was pretty intense." Latour grimaces, "But my armor's pretty awesome. Except that its completely ruined now."

"Ouch. Must be expensive." I wince at the thought of how much money Latour must have poured into his gear which is now lying in pieces.

We walk past the rows of wounded as the Support Department breaks open what few medical supplies the camp has left. Originally the wounded were meant to be treated inside the tents, but the bioform attack caused a mass overflow, leading to patients being treated wherever there's empty space.

"Small beer." Latour dismisses with a brave face, "Still less costly than a lifeward medallion. Now that breaks the bank."

"No one here can afford a lifeward medallion." I scoff, "You know how much a second chance at life is worth? You die, the medallion breaks and you come back to life. No questions asked. That kind of privilege is something only a billionaire can buy."

"I know someone who can afford a second chance." Latour grins as he waves to a man emerging from one of the medical tents.

"No way." I dispute, recognizing who that guy is immediately.

"Yes way." Latour smiles, "Its always the ones you least expect, isn't it?"

"Captain Latour!" Rando Combatant salutes smartly, despite how haggard he looks overall. The man then gives me a friendly nod.

"At ease." Latour pats Rando Combatant on the shoulder, "I'm not big on formalities. So what's the news, Stern?"

"The medics are done treating Captain Excelsior, sir." Rando Combatant, I mean Stern, replies, "You returned just in time."

"Come on then." Latour rushes ahead, entering the tent, "What are we waiting for?"

A bolt of lightning runs down my spine, causing me to grow cold. Stern makes an inviting gesture, offering to escort me into the tent. Where Captain Excelsior is waiting. The man I screwed out of his inheritance. Fear crushes my heart like a vice.

I just might get blasted by the past before this day is over.