Deep within the darkness, amongst the shadows that shroud and cloak in an eerie fog, its features hidden only permitting its ghostly outlines to be seen, the silhouettes of the puppets strung with metal strings creep forward with every movement clicking the rods in different states. They slouch with disorderly posters, their faces masked in the black, although their figures differentiated by what was intact and what wasn't, for there were bodies with gaps in the torsos and others with only the lower halves of their heads remaining.

Yet even then they all move the same, towards the crimson light imbued in the spreading fog, the dim light that masks the other puppets much closer, revealing the wounds on their skin and the rips in their uniforms. They creep forward too just like those behind, limping forth with the same eerie clicks, able to be directed even with some no longer blessed with eyes.

Yet they all still move, all but for the one body that stands still, although that body is not cursed with strings. What does however wrap around its body are the obsidian like chains around its neck and forearms, around the dark red body a shade almost that of a skinless man, with radiating red streams pouring down from the broad rift in its chest. Its jagged cape rustles from the breeze ahead which also brushes its black hair, causing the bangs to wave over the glaring crimson eyes of the latino body. Only the face can be identified as human other than the general shape of the devil, and the semblances in human tools that being the viking axes gripped in its dark silver claws the same material as the boots that stand on jagged soles.

In silence with a contemplatively irritated expression, the predator stares past the pile of puppets all over each other illuminated in a gentle cyan light, the reflective rods of their torturing skeletons raising their arms up and down, although none of them are aware of the incoming fog from beyond them, yet technically then again they are unaware of anything for they no longer possess the freedom of thought.

Without that thought, they do not perceive the great hole in the metal wall past them that the fog and light emits from, which specifically come from the enormous room without peak or pit lined with curved white walls coated in the cyan radiance.

Those curved walls are actually fully cylindrical, composing the inner tissue of the colossal volume that has several open doors on various elevations, each accompanied by a railless balcony, some of them appended to long narrow bridges that connect one edge to another.

In the very center of that edge is a grand wide chamber that extends in both directions for many floors, much more that could be counted with ease, and that chamber while with a metal white shell sheds the cyan light through transparent cased segments. Along the shell are also red and green dot lights, small mirrors and panels, among other control equipment. There are several ringed balconies around the white segments, which are connected to different balconies by the aforementioned bridges.

A generator, no, a storage unit of an exotic extraterrestrial and fantastic energy that transcends civilization into an age of infinite fuel, standing in the center like a tower without staff, for with such a great device there are no employees to monitor it.

Upon examining the room, the predator glances at the pathetic dog pile before him which now clearly wasn’t pinning down any intended targets, and it then faces back at the breach in the wall, its arms remaining by its side without the slightest movement of its body.

The predator did not need to move, as the puppets who approach him do themselves, limping past the pile and towards the breach while those in the pile remain stuck like a program bugged out unable to reset its behavior.

The puppets who do reach the breach however walk to the edge before then planting their hands on the white wall of the room and throwing the rest of their body off the floor, miraculously able to cling to the wall as their rods penetrate the metal surface.

Not only do they cling, but after planting their feet in the wall, they begin to climb in various directions like spiders, spreading over the room slowly on the hunt while the predator just stands and observes.

Yet it is not only the predator who observes, but also the prey on a balcony much higher, watching the spread as their four white locks wave in the breeze, the lack of hair exposing their pale arid skin.

After examining the dispatch, Meditat then turns around while still low to the ground at a crawl, his alert azure eyes blinking above a soft frown before he then silently crawls forward.

Specifically he crawls deeper into the balcony where Ekitai sits in exhausted rest, holding his handgun with the cylinder exposed to exhibit a few of the flasks almost empty despite the recent reload. Across from him sits Kokei, holding her right hand up by the wrist with her left, the open cut emphasized by the dark crimson on her fair gentle skin. Kneeling in front of her is Dana who inspects the cut with an analytic golden gaze, although her body has since reverted mostly to its human appearance with the tentacles foregone and her shell made of skin.

Meditat comes to a stop beside Ekitai before his thoughts echo, “Link Bellators, this communication channel will prevent rapid targeting, however I must preface we are being scouted for. Our position will not remain preserved much longer.”

Raising his head in curiosity and even a light grin despite the grim circumstance, Ekitai glances at Meditat before audibly thinking back with echo in his silent voice, “Link Bellators, wow you even renamed the server and all. Well I knew you were going to get us a team name eventually, only a matter of time!” He then plucks out one of the nearly empty flasks from his handgun’s cylinder and cautiously places it in the inside of his coat before reaching for another.

In a tone a bit more somber, Dana cogitates with slight haste in her voice, “Link Bellators, do you know where we are Medit? I’m guessing you didn’t just fly us into a random wall, not that I’d put it past you.”

In an equally serious but more desperate tone, Kokei agonizes with a mentally spoken whimper, “Link..Bellators..those guys weren’t like..infected or anything right? I’m not poisoned right? I should’ve kept my hand back…there were too many of them.”

Ekitai slowly replenishes his handgun with fully filled flasks that radiate between his fingers while in a quelling maternal voice Dana soothes in thoughts, “Don’t worry, I just finished a vital examination and it’s just a minor wound, nothing more.”

After taking another glance the other way, Meditat commands in a stern demeanor, “Dana, heal Kokei’s wounds. Correct, I know this room, it’s one of the capacitor chambers which doesn’t seem to have been depleted, which only means we must be more cautious about concealment. Ekitai, follow my sight, but remain low to not be seen.”

Finally given another task after he loads in the last needed flask into the cylinder before giving a slight whip that triggers it to retreat back into the body one flask at a time, Ekitai turns to Meditat and nods his head before complying, “Yeah yeah, got it boss. Also I’d like to discuss co-captain roles, but to prove my tactility..I’ll wait until later.”

To that snarky and almost childish remark, Meditat just shakes his head before Ekitai crawls to his side, the two now able to watch over the balcony all the way down to the bottom of the room where there is a clear platform that the chamber sits on, elevated on a fully covering flooring. The platform is held up in the air by multiple beams that attach to the walls like a net, somewhat obstructing sight of the floor, although not enough to hide the apparent circular incision in the dead center surrounded by a few hovering tables that sit a bit further past the platform’s bounds.

Studying with keen yellow eyes that then widen upon conclusion, Ekitai mentally verbalizes in astonishment: “An elevator pad! Wait shit, you actually found it! Well god damn, you’re also a master at leaking classified government documents, bravo! Maybe one day we can race to see who can get into the EGA floor plans first!”

To both the self incrimination and the invitation to a substantially more criminal activity, Meditat only turns his head with a deadpan glare at Ekitai before returning his gaze back down past the balcony and selecting to only respond with: “That shaft reaches the base floor, and not too far from the optimal exit for reaching a lot most efficiently. If we make our move quick, we should be able to depart swiftly.”

While Meditat explains the plan, Ekitai raises his head slightly up with his expression shifting into concerned curiosity.

Specifically Ekitai watches the inner walls higher from the breach, where a few puppets are crawling up, gradually approaching the ceiling close to where the balcony the group is situated stands.

“Probably want to make that move soon too while we’re at it…,” mentions Ekitai in a more solemn tone.

While the two work on devising a strategy, Dana holds her right hand out in front of Kokei, her fingers curled relaxed as Kokei watches with a pained wince.

That wince turns to an intrigued stare when Dana’s fingertips morph into sharpened golden claws, the cyan light reflecting off the metallic texture as the rest of the hand remains made of the skin resembling material.

In a gentle neutral expression of a light frown, Dana abruptly closes her hand into a tight fist, her fingertips sinking into her palm and penetrating right through, instantly causing a golden spillage from the open wound all without a change to her calm face.

On the opposite side Kokei nearly jolts back in horror, her jaw dropping and nearly making a sound if it weren’t for the instant tight closing with her left hand which claws on her mouth to stick. Her pink eyes expand in terror at the self inflicted pain, disoriented and disturbed.

Blinking slowly twice before noticing the sharp reaction, Dana shakes her head and assures soothingly, “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt. Can you hold out your hand for me?”

Confused and concerned, Kokei just simply complies by moving her left hand back to her right wrist, and extending her right hand towards Dana.

After she positions it, Dana then slowly moves her closed right fist above Kokei’s hand, and then pivots her wrist to have it face downwards.

She then opens her fist, letting the golden strands drop from her wound down to Kokei’s, causing a somewhat repulsive expression to take over Kokei from the strange action.

“Just hold still,” gently calms Dana’s voice as the strands drop onto Kokei’s palm and slowly seep into her wound, pouring into the cut and leaving a golden residue visible where there once was red.

Only a few seconds later the golden residue transforms into the same color as Kokei’s palm, the film the same texture as her skin, and the excess film dissolving clean off as Dana explains, “My cells will function as yours, they’ll cover what you’ve lost. It should feel the same, give it a feel.”

Perplexed yet lured, Kokei slowly closes her own right hand, brushing where once was her cut with her ring finger, her eyes telling of infatuation with the reaction.

Fascinately as her fingertip brushes the spot, there is clearly no more wound, for it was no mere illusion what had happened. Furthermore the paste doesn’t feel like one at all, instead it has the same texture and warmth as her skin, in every way it feels as though her body had naturally healed itself and yet she only received the wound minutes prior.

Sparkly eyed Kokei gazes at her healed hand, her jaw open again but rather in disgust it was in marvel. She then raises her head up to Dana before thanking, “That’s amazing, it’s like seeds but…woah!”

A light smile opens on Dana’s face, and she nods her head before noting slyly, “Thank you, that will be a hundred and fifteen grand credits.”

“Huh?” instantly asks Kokei with a sudden fear as sharp as the raise of her head, but before Dana could respond their attentions are brought by the mental echoey voice of Meditat’s query: “Is she healed?”

Ekitai draws back from the edge after making his notes as Meditat gazes over to Dana and Kokei, the former of whom nods her head and confirms, “She is.” She then begins to crawl towards him as Ekitai sits across from Kokei again.

“Do we have our plan?” asks Dana with a clear haste to escape as she approaches Meditat, who frowns and turns his head, returning his gaze back over the balcony to the larger room now crawling with puppets making their way closer up to them, their window of secrecy slowly closing.

However that is not where Meditat’s attention lies, rather further below where the breach is, more specifically where the predator stands over the pile.

Glaring over the chamber as the puppets continue the reconnaissance, the predator just waits patiently, almost knowing that there is no need to fret given that it knows precisely the room the prey are hiding in, and the immediate attempt of escape will be the alert.

Thus it just slowly rotates its neck like a security camera, waiting, stalking for the first act to be made, as it was white’s turn to make a move on the board.

Staring down at the predator with a frown and uncertain gloomy eyes, Meditat remains silent as Dana reaches his side, at first perplexed by his lack of response, only to follow his trail of sight and immediately understand why.

She mentally sighs through the channel before assuring, “We’ll be out of here soon, I know it. He can’t stop all of us together.”

Even then there’s little confidence in Meditat’s face, and instead he sighs back with the lowering of his head before acknowledging, “Perhaps…it’s just….”

Watching over the edge as Dana watches him, Meditat sighs again before admitting in a somber voice, “I froze again…I ran away again…. Even now…when I need to be my strongest…I falter. I thought I wouldn’t…I thought I was ready to face him but…without a head start I can’t do anything against him. He’s more me than I am….”

Cyan light hitting Dana’s frowning face, she also lowers her head in understanding of Meditat’s point, and her eyes gently close.

She then opens it, her irises now green as the golden has recessed, but her head remains low. Even then, she responds in a voice more understandingly melancholy but simultaneously sincere, “His powers might be stronger than yours…maybe…but….”

Dana then raises her head up to declare passionately, “He’s not stronger than you…and I know that,” to which Meditat raises his head and turns back to meet her gaze.

“He knows that, you might not see it but he’s afraid of you. Maybe before he thought you were just some nobody with the same name, but you showed him otherwise. You showed him….”

Light shining between the two, half of their faces enveloped in the cyan and the other half darkened in the shadows of the otherwise unlit room, Dana proclaims: “That you are Meditat, you are just as strong, as brave, and as stupid as him. You’re that hero.”

Kneeling with Kokei and Ekitai behind her, sitting on the balcony in rest as they accumulate the strength they can, Dana lowers her head and nudges it to the side before then more quietly murmuring, “Our hero….”

With expanded eyes, a glint of life and sparkling vibrancy within those long dead irises, Meditat gazes with slightly parted lips as the cyan light beacons him from behind.

He then closes his mouth and lowers his head, his eyes sharpening into a stare more meditative and analytical, silent for a few moments.

That pondering stare then further sharpens into a determined glare, and he raises his head back to face the group as his white locks dangle in the breeze when he announces, “Bellators, here’s the plan, and we have one shot.”

Both Kokei and Ekitai immediately turn their heads and sharpen their posture in alert as they listen to Meditat brief sternly, “At the bottom of this room is an elevator shaft, a bit smaller than the main one that led from the observatory. That shaft leads us to the base floor, where there will be exits to the outdoor campus that houses the parking lots containing the pods we will use as our escape.”

Past Kokei’s and Ekitai’s shoulders, over Dana’s back kneels Meditat who stares straight back at them in front of the cyan chamber that casts a heavy shadow while he guides, “All of you, come to the edge and keep your heads low, study the opening,” to which Kokei and Ekitai both get up and crawl towards the balcony while Dana remains put, given she’s already there.

Kokei reaches beside Dana as Ekitai crawls beside Meditat, both of them looking over the edge towards the floor same as the other two.

All four members now gaze at the floor of the room, specifically where the small circular entryway stands at the center below the platform as Meditat sternly admits, “That will be the only access point to reach the ground, as mind you outside the cannons all around the campus will shoot us down if we’re caught in the air. That functions as a reminder: in our dash for the lot try to shoot down any cannons along the way, but do not diverge the path to target them. We can dismantle the rest once we’re in the vehicle, as long as a few are decommissioned we should have the space to escape. The moment we move, we cannot stop moving until the pod is moving for us, I want to make that clear. I can assure you that the base floor will be crawling with opposition, and we must not let them slow our pace.”

In the center of the three, Meditat keenly gazes with the others as he advises, “We must stay close together, but spread enough for agility. We will move in a horizontal line so we are all side by side; Dana and Ekitai will be our wings, pressing heavy fire on our edges while Kokei and I will clear the path forwards. Maintain this formation as best as you can, but if it needs to break, we will make alternative positions appropriate for our obstacles.”

Yellow, blue, green, and pink the gazes stare down in a line over the balcony, leaning while on the ground, their heads just about aligned the same as the angling of the blue who primes, “On my mark we will move. Questions?”

A few moments of silence follows the invitation, until finally the head of Kokei turns to ask in an apprehensive whisper, “Wait so…wouldn’t using the elevator take too long? Won’t we be caught up before we reach the ground?”

All four of the faces are colored cyan from the light ahead of them as in the middle Meditat just simply notes, “That is why we are not taking the elevator.”

Initially Kokei’s perplexion shows from what seems first to be a contradiction to the plan, and she prepares to voice such concern before the meaning follows through, causing her eyes to widen in sudden perturbation to what the plan truly entailed.

On the other side, a mental snicker comes from Ekitai before he assures playfully, “Don’t worry Kookie, I’ll make a landing cushion for you too.”

Meditat nods once before following, “Right, are we all set?”

Not a word follows after the question, instead the four just keep their gazes on the floor. Ekitai carries an exhilarated smile to the bombastic nature of the plan while Kokei holds a restless frown for the exact same reason. In between, both Dana and Meditat have more neutral expressions of resolution, their mouths flat and their eyes sharp.

Finally the wave passes over Kokei with a mental sigh before she then shakes her head, driving away the fear and steadying her eyes to a primed glare as on the other side Ekitai also tightens up with a prepared glare, all of their faces hardened for battle.

All of their glares sharp as a blade, and with the glint of one too from the cyan light that breathes on their face, imbuing its power into them.

Amongst those illuminated, Meditat stares down sharply with vibrancy in his oceanic irises, not radiating from superhuman power per se, but glowing from a power nonetheless.

And as the body of the devil is reflected in the blue iris of the man, stalking in patience by the rift from the darkness to the light, the man exclaims in a voice that echoes not in the mind but the reverberations of the chamber spoken out loud in: “MOVE OUT!!”

Instantly the head of the predator raises, his crimson glare widening in shock as all the puppets around also raise their heads.

Over the white balcony ledge up high leaps out the four allies in a long jump, the Alchemist with his handgun in hand, the Artificer whose arms are conal cannons and legs golden clawed, the Tempest whose hands are in form for fire with blue fingertips, and the Vanguard whose body sparks with pink electricity.

All of them together descend down the colossal chamber, their bodies coated in cyan as they make their plummet right in the sightlines of the predator watching from within the rift as well as the innumerable puppets hanging all around the walls.

Before a reaction can even be met as the predator just stares dumbfoundedly, his cape is blown back from the breeze swelled by the drop of the four prey right past him so fast their bodies are a mere blur, and only then the predator lowers his head.

Gritting his teeth in agitation to the bold declaration, Exitium finally steps forward in a march for the edge as the pile of puppets stands up and unravels themselves, facing the same stimulus before they then all instinctively leap out of the breach out into the open.

Not only them, but all of the puppets from all over the wall detach themselves into free fall, raining down for the four diving for the ground, the four noticing the attention they brought to themselves.

As nearby puppets make a drop that brings them close to the group, the Tempest aims his hands and begins firing blue bolts straight at them, each shot making its target straight into the spine causing them to go limp as the Artificer follows suit with an upward hail of gunfire.

They continue to pass more puppets who had gone lower, letting them make a direct pounce only to be suspended by the release of pink electricity projected by the Vanguard who directs the flows with her arms, terminating their momentum and letting them freefall no longer of harm.

While from above Exitium just watches, the Tempest bellows whilst firing down on the horde, “EKITAI, THE FLOOR!”

Without further instruction, the Alchemist smirks and nods his head before lowering it to the floor where he positions his aim, specifically straight at the edge of the lining that sections off the elevation pad that they’re dangerously approaching with every passing second, which sits just below the capacitor thus slightly blocking it.

However, there was just enough space for a clean aim, and one that’s taken as the Alchemist fires a green bolt from his handgun which doesn’t travel very far before meeting its target and engulfing it in a vibrant green pool that instantly disintegrates the metal.

Not even a second after the disintegration, the four drop past the capacitor, their bodies passing in between the net of beams although falling straight for the tables without a full second to impact. But in that fraction the Tempest projects a swarm of blue cables that attach to the three allies as well as all over the edges of the cleared shaft, pulling all of them straight over the shaft with enough strength that they just barely pass the table’s hard unforgiving surface and continue their plummet straight inside the shaft whereas all the puppets who had followed them crash into the floor with an explosive impact that ruptures both skeletons.

Down the shaft now the four fall, the cables having disengaged the split instant after their use, letting them freefall in a short period of safety, although one rapidly coming to an end as the ground gets nearer.

Knowing this, the Alchemist swipes on his handgun whilst plummeting, and he aims low before firing two pink shots straight down the shaft to which Kokei grimaces in knowing what part follows.

Those two bolts continue their accelerated plummet before striking the bottom, and instantly upon impact they each burst wide into large puffy constructs resembling bean bags, which also doubles as an indicator for how close the allies are to the floor: not very.

The bottom of the Artificer’s golden feet begin to emit a soft golden light in preparation as the Tempest opens his hands up in the contortion of holding onto ropes.

Simultaneously the Artificer’s feet blast a golden beam that instantly suspends her fall as the Tempest projects two cables into the dark ceiling to do the same, and both the Alchemist and Vanguard drop straight into the pink bags that pulsate with alien red veins within the translucent gooey casing.

Both the Alchemist and Vanguard throw themselves off the bags promptly as the Tempest and Artificer let themselves drop the last foot to landing, all of them facing down the titanically expansive floor open like a warehouse, populated with a few unkempt heaps of crates no longer orderly stacked. What further populates the room however is the army of puppets who turn towards the allies finding themselves near the curved walls, the rods of the exoskeletons clicking as the puppets begin to creep towards the targets before their pace moves into a chase.

Their pace becomes chase, but so do the allies, who leap forward and sprint their way down the fortress, guns blazing with blue from the Tempest at the center, gold from the Artificer, and all other colors from the Alchemist beside the Tempest each on the edges of the line. The Vanguard in between the Tempest and Artificer projects swarms of pink arcs at nearby hordes before thrashing her arm backwards, causing them to be flung away as she doesn’t slow her pace, instead only increasing it as the Alchemist fires a cyan bolt ahead that meets a cluster and erupts with a great flame that consumes them all. Even with the entire floor’s lights inactive, there is still surplus lighting from the intense flashing of radiance coming from all of the laserfire, chemical shots, energy projections, and electric streams, all stemming from the moving group as they make their way down the floor.

They run past scattered crates as the Tempest aims his hand straight ahead and bellows, “THERE!!” as he directs attention all the way down the far opposite side of the fortress, specifically a lobby depressed below ramps cluttered with more crates and pods of varying proportions from rovers to trucks although all of them have either been toppled, partially melted, burnt, blown up, or otherwise destroyed as aftermath of the terrible invasion. Despite the ruins, past the lobby is a huge open doorway leading out to the gray lands of the lunar surface where the sky is always at night.

However, standing in the way of that doorway are countless more puppets who turn towards the allies before charging straight on, and so onwards the Bellators race, the Tempest firing more well aimed bolts as the Artificer guns hordes down with her rapid cannons. Her shoulders broaden into the heavy grated golden pauldrons extending from her neck to her elbows concurrently as tentacles emerge from her body, firing bolts from their heads as her pauldrons flare bright golden before firing a barrage of golden missiles honing with golden trails that each seek their own targets of clusters.

The Alchemist aims and fires a blue purple bolt into another horde, striking one of the puppets which causes them to suddenly burst in an electric explosion that decimates their body, but furthermore chains the electricity to the surrounding puppets which causes their bodies to also explode and extend the discharging chain until the whole tight group collapses with guts spilling everywhere.

The Tempest glances over to the side before shouting, “THE HALLS!” which directs all three allies to the walls of the base, which are revealed to lead to corridors where further swarms of puppets flood out, bursting out like the water of a freed hose.

Both the Alchemist and Artificer focus on the hallways, the Artificer directing her fire on the incoming hordes with all her cannons and barrages as the Alchemist fires rapid shots that erupt the flood with explosions of various colors, one of which ejects a sharply angled massive red web from the center that pierces the walls, floor, and ceiling along with all of the puppets caught inside.

While the wings suppress the floods pouring in from the corridors, the center composing the Tempest and Vanguard focus their fire on those already inside and charging their way, the latter catching mobs in pink storms that suspend them before tossing them back some of which are shot midair by blue bolts of the former. While there are only at most two shots that can be fired at a given moment from the Tempest’s hands, the dexterity and perfection of every aim drops puppets at the speeds that’d result from a turret’s job.

Through the crevices of the tightnit wall, a few puppets manage to get close to the team, only for the Tempest to leap forward and deploy a kick overcharged with a blue leg that blasts the entire mass back, some of their rods splintering and ripping out of the bodies thus rendering the puppets without strings. A few of them do manage to get back up, or at least almost do before being shot square in the head before they can even determine a target.

Reinforcements continue to emerge through the gaps between the wing’s fire, but they get caught in the pink electric web that ensnares them with bright arcs that each splurt out additional branches like that of a rapidly and chaotically growing tree, locking them in place as easy targets for the Tempest before the remainder are then tossed away to maintain pace.

Concurrently on the edge the Alchemist aims and fires a yellow bolt straight for one of the tunnels, as from it approaches another pack charging ferally despite most of their human bodies heavily injured, that including the familiar leader at the head of the pack whose head with slicked back brown hair is only attached to the rest of the body by the exposed exoskeletal spine, for the entire jaw and neck has been completely shredded, the upper row of teeth hanging open without the full mouth to shut it.

At the center of the pack, that head is the one to be struck by the yellow bolt, causing the gaping mouth to flash a bright yellow light before the entire body combusts into numerous bits of flesh and guts all connected by a slimy red substance that spreads over the surfaces thus covering the corridor up as a wall that prevents the puppets behind from entering regardless of their attempts to claw at the wall made from bricks of guts pasted with cement of blood.

One more pathway shut off, and the team continues to plow their way through the horde without slowing down, already closing in on the exit door, dropping heaps of corpses on the way, freeing them from their undead labor.

Bolts continue to fire off all colors from the team, crowds of puppets ahead caught in pink nets and thrown into the ceiling with such force that some of their spinal implants crack and malfunction while others are shot before even getting in radius. All in that time, the wings continue to hold off the flood coming from the gates, keeping the numbers low as there’s only a few tunnels left to pass before reaching the lobby.

Omnidirectional golden gunfire discharges from the many tentacles swaying around from the Artificer’s back as she launches more missiles while on the other side the Alchemist takes down any strays that manage to pass his enclosures whether it be of contorted flesh or colorful flames. At the same time, the Vanguard projects fleets of arcs ahead to lock the fallen guards, their ripped and battered bodies held by metal. As they’re stuck down by the Tempest’s bolts, only few puppets remain in between them and the exit, for they were nearly out of the fortress. Those remaining puppets are quickly shot down, each shot collapsing another tortured body, and yet they still charge forward in blind glory at an enemy decided against their will.

As the final remaining tunnels are closed by golden bombardments and bursts of intestines spurted out from a body’s impact with a pinkish red bolt–covering the hall like thick overgrown vines in an abandoned facility crawling with excessive vegetation–, the dwindling force of the guards standing in the way are caught in pink arcs and tossed aside to reveal the final to be the guard dressed in the navy blue uniform fitting the shoulders with the crimson red shield epaulets, his head shaven with a buzzcut and only mere pricks of facial hair, a man who seemed to be in his thirties yet at the same time with a cut that once made him as lively as a young adult, or at least if it weren’t for the perfectly circular gaping hole in the center of his forehead above an eternally horrified expression with a gaping mouth and stretched eyes.

The exoskeletal rods raise his arms and push his legs to make chase at the team, his body rendered as nothing more but a drone, and as it makes its final charge the Tempest dashes straight ahead right past him in a blue trail, his hand held out to project a blue cable that latches on the spinal implant of the soldier, and with the jerk of the Tempest’s arm the exoskeletal spine is ripped off the corpse along with the rods that were puppeting the body, freeing it of its strings, and letting the body limply collapse to the ground.

As the shaven head lays on the bloodied floor among the bodies of its comrades, the drop having inadvertently closed the mouth as if putting it to rest, the team makes their way down the ramp past tunnels and towards the exit no longer with any enemies ahead.

That is until the ceiling over the lobby is abruptly breached, chunks of the metal hailing down like shattered glass among the crimson devil with gritted teeth, the jagged soles blazing red the way its glaring eyes do as it drops straight for the team, its cape waving above same as its long bangs of hair.

Instantaneously the Tempest strafes in the air aided by a blue propulsive burst and cables projected from his back into the ceiling, his hand grabbing the Alchemist’s wrist as the Artificer strafes the other direction by propulsion of her feet helped by the tentacles grabbing also on the ceiling, too carrying the Vanguard with her, all four of them strafing away from the Devil as he lands on the ground causing the metal floor to crack from the immense force.

Before the Devil’s cape can even settle back down, the Tempest and Artificer both wrap around and settle back to the floor, letting go of the Alchemist and Vanguard respectively, all of them continuing their run with the same pace as the Devil dumbfounded turns around.

Having dodged the last to stand in their way, the Bellators emerge out of the open gates, their feet no longer banging against the metal of the facility floor but rather crunching on the rocks of the lunar level. Above them no longer were the dark ceilings of the prison, but rather the unbounded black cosmos glittered with white stars and stroked with purple nebulas.

Although that sight was behind them, instead ahead past the towering white spikes functioning as the other laboratories is the infinite cosmos half of the view covered by the gargantuan cyan supersun that beams a heavy light over the surface and the four running down beside it. Between the surface and supersun are the massive rings carrying the network of faint blue tunnels, one end being faced by the titanic telescope past the campus walls and the other end facing the land of power plants far in the distance. On the other side across the supersun is the nearby green and blue planet of Earth 1, the face at day as the swirls of clouds are present especially so up close, nowhere the sheer size of the sun yet still nothing miniature.

That all lies above their sight, but lower on the Moon’s surface itself within the towering white ring wall are the many smaller spike buildings, some being the height of sheds and others the scale of smaller warehouses. With the buildings all sharing the same style of white spikes, there are also huge railguns and other great cannons all attached to a disk pivot that sit on the surface, clearly alien to the facility with sizes that tower the team. None of them move however, all stationary and still despite the team approaching when they moved so responsively to the speeding pod prior, as though they fail to recognize any movement specifically on the ground.

Amongst those sheds and railguns, what draws in the most significant attention however is a grouping of parked pods, most of them with the shape of an SUV or minivan, all of them black with the crest of the white shield on the side.

The lot was however pretty far from the exit, not just a few steps but instead fields away as the campus now from the ground was astoundingly massive in scale, the cosmos visible above the walls only because the group was at the center of the ring.

Even with such distance however, the group continues to run down the moon with all the energy they could muster, the Alchemist’s arms swinging with the handgun held tight and the Artificer’s tentacles turning to face the various cannons all over the campus. Without looking back, they run side by side down the outdoor lunar field as behind them the Devil just watches in a blank expression before then raising one arm.

Making every second count, the group keeps their hasty pace onward to the lot as the Alchemist takes aim at one of the nearby missile cannons and fires a cyan shot at it, which on impact causes the enormous weapon to erupt in a grand explosion. On the other side, the Artificer’s tentacles begin to fire heavily concentrated streams of golden gunfire at the railguns, quickly shredding into their bodies with piercing rounds that within seconds cause them to combust in flames.

Without needing to slow down, the team begins the dismantlement process of the ground to air artillery, the Alchemist and Artificer both shredding through any cannon in their sight, and being joined by the Tempest who raises both of his arms up each at a railgun ahead ready to fire down on more. The bright cyan shines on their side, casting harsh shadows that run alongside them, the sun so close the flares can be observed dancing in its inferno.

He flicks both wrists, firing blue bolts at the cannons as a flaming crimson ground trail dashes far past them, which comes to a stop before suddenly from the ground at that very point emerges a colossal spike taller than the sheds which catches both of the bolts, to which the entire group suddenly comes to a halt from being caught off guard.

They then raise their heads up at the great spike multiple stories tall, made of the same dark crimson obsidian like material that composed the Devil’s chains, the black spike standing amongst the others of Earth 1’s people.

All of the group were startled by the summoning of the stake that had seemingly come from nowhere, but specifically Meditat had a deeply traumatized look, his mouth hung open and eyes wide as he’s forced to look at that very stake.

A breeze brushes his white locks back as the rest of the group just stare in worriment, but specifically Meditat turns around to face the center tower, notably the open doorway where the Devil stands with its arm held up, finally having halted the escape even for a moment.

Gazing back with the sharp pain driven into his chest like a spear, Meditat just stares back with the comprehension of the implication in that exact spawning, as told by his immediate glancing of the three allies around him, the three of his team who were out in the battlefield with the unstoppable monster who’d slay all dear to him.

Again they were in the sightlines of the demon, out in the open, at the whims of the supernatural force that could oppress nature itself and thus certainly anyone whom Meditat brings to his fight.

Fear begins to swell again in his heart, his heartbeat starting to grow louder in his head, the realization of the trap that he had not yet escaped regardless of if he were inside or out the building. A trap that could not be escaped no matter where he went, whether it was off the entire Moon, far from the sun, no corner wouldn’t be searched, for as long as he was in one of them he could be found. The trap was not the place, it was the bait. And that bait was him.

The second instinct then kicks in, and Meditat turns back ahead before launching back into a sprint, shouting out desperately: “COME ON! WE’RE CLOSE!”

All three of the allies turn to him in a moment of disorientation, but they quickly shake off the trance and stride back on their run along the leader’s side, trying to return to their pace despite the first failure to not pause at all.

While they run for their lives, wheezing and huffing, the Devil simply stands at the doorway of the tower, his hand held up as at his feet a burst of crimson flames emerge and seep into the ground before then bolting straight up the surface.

No longer focusing on the artillery but only exclusively escaping, Meditat races alongside Dana, Kokei, and Ekitai as once again a crimson stream passes them below the floor before stopping and sprouting another black stake, although this one only about ten feet ahead.

The sudden spawning of the proximate stake forces the group to strafe to the side to avoid it, causing them to stumble no longer with the same confidence as prior to when they were clearing through the fortress.

They continue their run nonetheless, keeping a line straight to the lot only for another trail to pass them and sprout a spike, this time only a few feet ahead of Meditat who nearly stumbles into Ekitai when strafing. He holds his hands out as invisible padding before then resuming his sprint ahead, huffing more audibly.

Without the same strategic formation, the four now just run down the surface of the Moon as more crimson streams pass them and spawn more stakes, each one seemingly closer than the last, more spawning at faster rates near each other, causing the runners to stumble in their constant tiresome evasion.

Each stake seems to emerge from the ground too, being summoned in a way that could easily pierce through any unfortunate victims underneath, that fact being very well understood by all four of them as they dreadfully try to dodge each one, only able to anticipate it the mere instant it passes them before summoning, requiring them to move in erratic patterns to ward off accuracy but at the cost of the formation’s organization.

As constant barrages of streams spawn spikes right before the stumbling group, one specific stream passes far ahead, all the way down to the center of the lot before finally coming to a stop and proliferating its spike, right below one of the pods which gets penetrated straight through and raised multiple stories off the ground.

In the reflection of Meditat’s eye is the entity plunged straight through the middle by the tall black stake, his eyes wide in terror from the realization that the Devil had now come to understand their strategy, and had no challenge in dismantling it.

While still running forward, his heartbeat so loud it nearly topples the sound of the spikes burgeoning from beneath the rocky moon, Meditat turns around losing the reflection of the spike, but instead inheriting the reflection of the Devil.

Instead of being in the doorway, the Devil now stands well beyond the tower, between a few of the flaming railguns. There was no perceived movement, it was as if it just appeared there at will, closing in slowly and surely with no stopping it.

It just stands and stares, its arms by its side as it truthfully did not need to move its body to stand as opposition, as without moving a muscle it manifests another crimson flame at its feet which then travels underground.

As fast as they can all move together the team races towards the lot, yet their pace is equivalent to a snail’s compared to the crimson streak that soars past them and reaches the lot first before another spike bursts out of the ground and impales yet another pod, this one even larger than the last so much that its mere presence knocks back several other pods to the side, causing them to lightly bump with one another.

It was as though the Devil was practically playing with the group, its power so dominant that to disassemble their plan was severely simpler than the initial assembly, for no mortal could ever hope to challenge the devil. Yes there are still a handful of pods intact in the lot, but only out of choice, for at any given moment they could all be struck straight through and in an instant all hopes of escape could become disenchanted.

All of this truth floods Meditat’s mind, his teeth gritting in the agony of his mortal ineptitude, for once again at the critical moment he could do nothing but run away from a force he knew would eventually catch up with him. Again he was running, whether it was running to another world, to another room, or into practically a minefield. His irises reflect the image of the lot, exhibiting yet another stake emerging from the ground and transfixing yet another pod and nearly Meditat, and yet he was too fearful to even stop.

More spikes protrude from the ground right ahead of the runners, making them stumble and amble as they desperately try to find another route, the rate intensifying so much that the spikes begin to function as pillars, walls even that start closing in the open field, forcing the victims to struggle maneuvering around them with enough speed to hopefully not get caught themselves.

Back again Meditat glances, and back again he finds the Devil having gotten substantially closer without the sight of a limb’s movement, slowly creeping up on its prey, its claws already in place as they were all in its palm, able to be crushed at any moment.

Meditat tsks almost as though irritated at himself, and he turns back around to face ahead. However, his sight is caught midway through and locked specifically on Dana who sprints beside Kokei, carrying herself on her golden legs, paced alongside her allies.

Right beside Kokei Dana runs, although truthfully she doesn’t need to. Whereas Kokei’s physical body has the limitations of a human, as her supernatural abilities don’t particularly grant her enhancements in speed, Dana has no such human limits, for she could run at the speed of a pod if she so chose to. She could have already reached the lot, perhaps even lapped back to the tower and back again several times by now if she wanted to. She could surpass Kokei’s speed more than tenfold, in fact she was hardly in any true danger, at least not in the one she supposed herself in. Even then she had no reason to run on the ground, she was more than capable of flight, and at the very least she could just find a different lot untouched.

But at the same time, Meditat then turns the other way to gaze at Ekitai beside him, to which he realizes the same if not more severe case. Ekitai was dependable, an outstanding shot which he had definitely proven, a sharp gunslinger. But he was not physically athletic, not by the longest of shots. His body was that of a corpse, his bones like strings holding his thin flesh together; he wheezes and huffs in pain from the mere physical exertion this short sprint was tolling. He could not move any faster either, from what Meditat knew he could not simply use his gadgets to enhance his speed or physic for that matter, regardless of what bizarre effects he could put on his enemies there was little he could do for himself. And yet by this point Meditat could have potentially gone back, snapped the Devil’s neck, and returned before any of them would have even perceived another instant. While his enhanced speed was not of his own body like Dana’s, regardless he had the ability of incredible movement that surpassed even hers, he could have likely tapped every single pod in the whole campus by now if he wanted to. Yet here he was, running at regular speed, putting himself in the danger of the spikes, putting himself at the risk of losing their escape, and for what?

He was running away on the most surface of definitions, that much was without doubt. But he wasn’t really running away, at least not in a way that should even be defined for him specifically, because compared to his capability, he was practically crawling on the floor. Yet even with this revelation, his legs weren’t suddenly carrying him any faster. He wasn’t taking this knowledge and applying acceleration to himself, he wasn’t changing anything, he was still moving at Ekitai’s pace. For he already knew this revelation long ago, when he first made the decision to take flight for the moon. He knew that, and he knew the second truth, the truth that explained the other truth, that he was not running. He was stalling. He was stalling on himself, on what he had to do. But he could stall no more.

Just then, Meditat’s horrified expression transforms, his stretched eyes of terror sharpening into a focused glare, his open grimacing mouth shutting. As he continues to run for the lot that is gradually being run down by spikes as more grow from the floor, he takes a deep breath before announcing, “YOU ALL, KEEP GOING AHEAD! I’M GOING TO GET HIS ATTENTION, GET HIS FOCUS OFF YOU AND THE PODS. YOU ALL GET TO THE LOT, FIND AN OPERABLE POD, AND OPERATE IT!”

Her pace remains the same, but Dana’s focus suddenly shifts with the turn of her head to Meditat before she inquires in a heavily perplexed voice, “WAIT, WHAT? HOW’S THAT GOING TO HELP?” as Kokei in the center also turns to him with curiosity.

Still running at the same pace, Meditat nods and explains back, “AT MY FULL STRENGTH, THERE WAS ALWAYS ONE WEAKNESS THAT I COULD TRY TO WORK ON, BUT COULD NEVER OVERCOME FULLY: WE THINK AS HUMANS! WE STILL HAVE THE HABIT TO NARROW OUR FOCUS, WE CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH AT ONCE! THEREFORE IF I GET HIS ATTENTION, HE WILL BE UNABLE TO FOCUS ON YOU, THUS HE WON’T BE ABLE TO DESTROY THE REST OF THE PODS! AND I WILL MAKE HIM FOCUS ON ME.”

Then in a much quieter voice, almost a whisper, he follows: “I know he will…,” as Ekitai also turns his attention to him with confuddlement to the debate.

A few moments of silence in the conversation pass as Dana faces ahead to the lot as now there are several spikes sticking out, each of them having taken a pod, the amount of vehicles still usable dwindling constantly.

She then turns back to Meditat, understanding his strategy and the validity of his plan. Even then there’s a clear hesitancy in her face, and she queries with a frown, “Are you sure you’ll be fine? Facing him head on? I can try to get there and hijack a pod as quickly as I can, but it’ll still take some time….”

As the four run away from the Devil who just stands still in the distance, crimson paths emerging from its feet and passing the group, sprouting more stakes right in front of them and causing them to stagger and strafe, both Dana and Meditat face each other as their attention is almost not even on the present lethal danger right before them.

Running beside Ekitai, Meditat nods his head and assures in a gentle voice, “I’ll buy you as much time as you need. Furthermore, another weakness is that he thinks as fast as anyone else, thus while he’ll focus on me, he’ll fail to land a hit as long as I move. I can hold him off long enough for you to get a pod in the air.”

Another stake grows right in front of the group, causing all four of them to leap away, Meditat and Ekitai to one side, Dana and Kokei to the other. The two pairs nearly stumble into each other from just how close the stake came, but they manage to stabilize themselves and keep running, Meditat returning his gaze to Dana and the others facing him.

Dana winces in uncertainty before doubting, “But Medit, even then, it’s dangerous-.”

“Dana, I am going to be fine, trust me, run and do not look back,” gently assures Meditat in a voice almost soothing despite the horrible body piercing stakes just sprouting out of the ground everywhere in their path, trying to impale them and getting scarily close.

Intense cyan light glowing on his white face as his white locks dance behind his head, Meditat’s azure eyes twinkle like the stars all around them, his face wrinkled and weathered yet with a certain zest, a fiery spark like the very one he carried over a decade ago. There was a certain vigor in his stare, a resolution firm as the rock they run on, and yet at the same time a softness of sincerity, one in his voice as he guarantees, “I will be right behind all of you.”

Same fiery cyan illumination decorating her fair face as her amber bangs dance behind her head, Dana’s green eyes twinkle too as the stars, her face aged and worn yet with a certain passion, a flaming light that she carried decades ago too. There was a certain ardent in her stare, a blaze flowing as the flames of the railguns behind them, and yet at the same time a solidity of spirit, one in her voice as she guarantees, “I am coming back for you.”

Once again onward the four continue to run in their straight line as from behind yet another crimson streak is deployed from the Devil lurking in front of the tall white spike, once again the streak blazes straight in their direction.

Once again right in front of the team sprouts another dark stake multiple stories tall, and once again most of the group stumbles to the side in avoidance.

However, this time Meditat leaps straight up off the ground propelled by a blue burst before he’s propelled by another burst albeit this one at an angle that throws his body into a spin to face the other way as his right hand grabs the black hoodie of his leather jacket while his white locks of hair wave rapidly, and his azure eyes glare back with what’s almost a smirk on his face as he throws the hood over his head, summoning a swarm of small yet abundant carbon fibers from inside the hood which crawl from the edges over the man’s withered white skin, layering over his face with an additional layer that converges at the center of his nose with a full masking followed by the ignition of the two parallelogram shaped lenses over where his eyes were; the same natural color of azure now amplified with a bright flare pours from the outer vertices down to the bottom like tears of an old man who lived a tragedy but also rises from the inner vertices up to the top of the hood as horns of an unwavering warrior who seeks to bring peace to his tribe.

The Tempest lets go of the hood now over his head as he throws his feet and right hand against the black stake’s edge, perching on its side as it glares straight back at the Devil.

Standing on the gray rocks of the moon with a raised eyebrow in intrigue, the Devil examines the strange move made by his opponent, assessing the direction of the game carefully as suddenly the tide seems to have shifted.

Upon making a decision, the Devil’s perplexed gaze sharpens into a tenacious glare as he throws his arm back and closes his fist with his other foot drawn forth, almost as though drawing power into his hand even if the actual physical strength was not what mattered. Still, he grits his teeth as crimson flames secrete by his boots, and he lunges his arm in the direction of his target with a step, guiding the flames that submerge into the ground and race below the surface yet visible as if the flame had imbued its image into the rocks.

The flaming streak splinters into three streams which race and rumble in the ground as they travel within seconds all the way down the field to their destination, where they then come to a stop with the center stopping short and instantly from each of their endpoints bright red flashes project a dark crimson stake from the ground which quickly rise up two of them angled towards each other both targeted for the other spike that the Tempest perches on before he thrusts himself forward with a propulsive burst to just narrowly evade the spikes and reaches for the third, projecting a blue cable that latches onto it allowing him with the jerk of the arm to further propel himself forwards.

Yet only a moment after flight, a barrage of red streaks races from below the ground towards him each of them growing their own spikes from right below, only just barely missing their target who instead latches cables onto them to throw himself ahead, his hood waving in the heavy breeze as he strafes side to side dodging the forest of spikes while using each of the trees as points to grasp and reel fowards, although that exploit cannot so easily be applied when a triad of adjacent spikes rises to cut off horizontal movement, thus the Tempest instead bursts up into a backflip with two cables projected from his body anchoring to the tips of the stakes which with another burst lets him fling himself over the wall and with a well timed detachment only provides him greater momentum at a downward angle lower to the ground which puts him at the disadvantage of having less reaction time yet just enough for him to project cables to the spikes that grow in front of him to pull himself fast enough to avoid the ones that do reach close to him for enough seconds to recover before exploiting one of the spikes that had been grown prior with a sharply angled cable that pulls him higher up in the air in a path intercepted by another angled spike which he evades with a downward burst coupled with a cable shot up to it which lets him swing even higher up.

The paths of flames inadvertently letting him at the very least anticipate the projection of their position and accuracy, the Tempest decides to burst backwards to just narrowly dodge a perfectly aimed spike that could’ve penetrated straight through him, but now functions as a half slingshot which he projects a cable to in order to spin around it and lunge himself, and upon noticing a triangle of previously summoned spikes he makes the dangerous play to relinquish his high ground as upon the next summoning of a spike he projects a downward cable and bursts himself lower to the ground, again lessening the time given to react but also now letting him use the group of spikes as cover which causes the following spikes to spawn less accurately, making it easier for him to take advantage of them as anchor points to further pull himself ahead straight for the triangle where he then throws himself before meticulously kicking off each of them as short steps to bounce between the narrow gaps until getting out of the triangle with the last step propelling him in a backflip out in the open where he takes the punishment of a sudden forest of spikes spawning all around him from his immediate sighting, but with the anticipation of such speed he manages to make a quick evasive burst from the first spike as he bends his knees to compact himself as while still upside down he crosses his arms over his chest–head only a few feet above the ground–and projects pairs of cables from his hips that lets him manuever around the forest due to the initial spikes being straightened, a mistake remedied by a wave of sharply angled spikes meant to provide undesirable surfaces for anchoring, although in anticipation to that exact move the Tempest projects a cable straight up with his hands to underneath one of the spikes, using it as another swingset to throw himself higher up with a followup cable used to repivot himself forward and ahead to provide enough speed to effectively dodge another set of pinpoint accurate spikes still emerging quickly due to the target being low to the ground, another triangle meant to trap him but instead granting him two parallel spikes that are used as the poles of a slingshot as he projects two cables one from each hand to thrust himself forward with a rotational burst that lets him fling right beside the third.

With the ability to anticipate the spikes coming towards him based on the ground streaks having helped greatly to avoid them, there’s confusion when one streak passes him regardless, which brings the concern that perhaps the Devil had noticed the ploy and chosen to divert his focus, only to then be surprised again when indeed that spike was meant for him, instead projecting from behind him and angling the other direction, and a massive one at that, so large the Tempest requires a hefty thrust forward to evade.

Although the move was indeed intelligent in throwing off the Tempest’s balance, it had the terrible effect that didn’t take a whole instant to recognize, as the huge spike was now facing the exact direction necessary, so with one hand the Tempest projects a cable straight up to the underbelly of the spike and bursts upside down again, this time grabbing the spike with his feet and using it as a surface to sprint on with instant acceleration, letting him move up the spike in lightning speeds in a trail of mirages like beads of a necklace, for even the anticipatory spikes that try to cross over the path come too late as now grounded the Tempest can easily just slide below them even upside down, getting back up to complete the path although bested by a decisive stake that impales straight into the one being pathed, causing the stake to split in half and for the half the Tempest runs on to begin plummeting.

Knowing he has made enough ground but couldn’t hang on too long, the Tempest kicks off of the spike, using the natural angling to keep forwards and now much higher, as to the Tempest’s blue tinted upside down perspective he could see the Devil much closer all the way far down on the ground.

Through the same tinted sight, he meets a flurry of spikes in a curved wall meant to trap him, although now high up there’s adequate gaps between each spike, but instead of merely slingshotting himself he instead cusps his hands together and projects one cable from it to one spike and projects a duet of cables from each knee which link together and connect to an adjacent one, rotating his body horizontally towards the wall and again he brings his knees up to shorten his body just enough to pass through the gap and grab onto the spike with his foot, providing him a pivot point to kick off of at the right angle to reorient himself upright with now little distance between him and the Devil, who desperately begins projects an angled stake straight for the Tempest who with one light upward burst just narrowly evades the tip, now able to use the spike’s slope as a cable projects from his sole straight to the stake which reels him on, letting him slide down the spike with the enhanced beaded grounded acceleration, an advantage that is taken away again as another spike rips straight through the slope right in front of him, almost catching him if it weren’t for a quickly timed strafe that is followed with a cable to that very upward spike to lunge him closer to the Devil while sporadically strafing from side by side, successfully provoking the Devil to make a desperate act in projecting two spikes both of which grow at the Tempest’s side with neither making their target, and after passing them the Tempest reaches both arms back and projects a cable to each spike before then propelling himself from the legs into a forward loop that spins him around and back behind the two spikes now with its additional momentum which he takes full advantage of with a timely detachment that angles him straight at the Devil, and with a constant burst he bolts straight for the target as he shuts his right fist and ignites it with blue energy whilst arching it back for a strike and unleashing an intensifying roar not that of a human but rather an inhuman resonation deep and distorted–almost extraterrestrial amplifying its animalism– as the Devil takes a step back in a futile attempt to regain any space he could, for he had lost it all, leaving him shocked and with the first expression of fear as the blazing blue fist lunges straight for him at meteorite speed.

Concurrently the three allies continue their sprint, hearing the rumbling of the flames and the emergence of the spikes, and despite how excruciating the thought of the battle back there is, Dana focuses her attention forth as no longer are they being met by any spikes ahead, particularly no longer are there any stakes being summoned with the intent to obstruct their path or damage the remaining pods.

Without any immediate danger in their way, they manage to reach the parking lot where the pods passively levitate, at least those who have not been jabbed straight through, as there are luckily still a few left with no apparent dysfunctionality.

Understandably hasty, Dana races up to the first intact pod her way, stopping right in front of the closed driver door where she raises her right arm and moves her hand towards the black shell as golden lenses grow in her irises and each of her five fingertips extend as golden tentacle wires that move in an almost organic mannerism.

They sway at first, but are quick to straighten their direction, all of theirs being into the pod’s shell itself, their tips flattening into a base with the resemblance of a magnet but with small spidery legs among the circumference that latch onto the hull for tighter connection.

The tentacles sway slightly in the middle although concentrated, just like Dana whose focus remains exclusively on the tentacles whilst hijacking the vehicle, needing attentiveness given the security on a governmental property specifically military.

While Dana keeps her attention on the hijacking, both Kokei and Ekitai stand to her sides and wait patiently with little they can do themselves, so Kokei glances at the other nearby pods in the lot but Ekitai chooses to turn around and move his sight the other way.

He then freezes up in bewilderment, his mouth opening and his irises widening before he murmurs almost entranced, “Holy shit…you can’t even see them.”

Despite the leader’s order, Kokei follows his same line of sight, and on instinct coupled with the brewing curiosity stemming from anxiety Dana can’t help but pivot around while outwardly reprimanding, “Ekitai, what did he sa-,”

However Dana is unable to finish her words, as she comes to the same view that had entranced the others, that being the field of manifold spikes all at various angles and sizes some of which piercing even each other, with no visible spacing to even maneuver through given their tightness. Some are magnitudes taller than what they saw, reaching peaks higher than redwood trees, yet all of them with razor sharp tips that cast sharp shadows from the light of the cyan supersun that crowds the entire atmosphere with no visibility even of the further cosmos.

As Dana’s amber bangs ruffles the same with Kokei’s pink hair, they acknowledge Ekitai’s truth: neither the leader nor the enemy are even visible from the sheer density of the field, in fact even the titanic tower they had exited was heavily obstructed in view.

With no signifier of the events playing out, the imagination runs to terrible places, the understanding of how dangerous the enemy is and the fact only one man chose to charge straight at it.

Dana’s head lowers however upon a strange buzzing sound followed with the cue of dematerializing doors.

For in fact the pod the group are hovering around has released all four of its doors, the nanite clouds by where they were dissipating to allow for access.

Instantly Dana frantically exclaims, “All of you, get in!” before throwing her own body through the driver’s door, clearly trying to get in the air as soon as humanly possible.

Kokei and Ekitai both glance to each other and nod before they then make a dash for the backdoors, Ekitai taking the right and Kokei taking the left.

Inside the pod is a fully black interior with leather seating, still designed similar to any commercial pod in that the back seats are connected as a singular bench that both Kokei and Ekitai slot into whereas the front seats are separate, the left one being the one Dana inhabits as she sits upright and holds her hand out, her fingers still tentacles.

The pod has no lighting of its own or at least any active, for it’s still asleep as the hovering is only a passive action even when locked. Although strangely enough, there is a rear view window screen that is also passively active, exhibiting the distant image of the stake field, the spikes so tall they aren’t even all fully in view.

Not spending another second wallowing in what could be transpiring beyond the field, Dana instead keeps her focus on the black dashboard similar to Meditat’s vehicle although much stretched out, having an almost marble shine with no distinctive features. Above the dashboard is the windshield screen which is also passively exhibiting the frontward view of the great spikes that had nearly impaled the very vehicle. Intense cyan light beams through the open doors along the sides, letting the sunlight into the pod.

Not focusing on that either, Dana carries her hand towards the dashboard as the five finger tentacles once again latch onto its marble surface, initiating the second phase of the sequence similar to what the other cyborg was attempting back in that recovery mission.

Again there is little Dana’s physical body can do but try to sit still, although her body is very clearly quaking in the duration it takes for the process.

Dana’s golden foot repetitively taps the floor too, almost like a timer set for herself, although that time wasn’t particularly motivating her anymore than her current state.

Her golden eyes locked on the dashboard and her bangs unwavering now inside the vehicle, Dana keeps her attention on the hijacking as the rear view window screen displays the field of nearly black spikes which Ekitai turns back to watch as they ominously flare bright red.

Whilst Dana sits at the front seat with the windshield screen providing the cosmic tunnel to the many Earths far beyond on the canvas of stars, Ekitai’s face instead flashes crimson red for just a moment by reflection, and once it passes his eyes quickly expand but his pupils shrivel, his jaw dropping even more than before not exactly in awe but rather something somehow more comprehensive, and yet in that comprehension there’s a sense of despair that comes to the face usually caught smiling carefreely.

Without words, Ekitai slowly slips out of the pod’s seat given the doors are still open, and he slowly starts to march the other way with the same shocked expression. As he makes his slow march, Kokei pops her head out of the other side with irritation to her friend’s daze while scolding, “Where are you going Eki-,” which then quickly transforms into a perplexed expression of a raised eyebrow in at first noticing the sudden change of scenery, but that perplexion only functions as transition to a horrified face of an open jaw and widened eyes just like his. Also just like him, without words Kokei can’t help herself but slip out of the pod too, getting on her feet and marching in the same direction although with a more cautious stance.

Now the only passenger left in the pod although unknowingly, Dana holds her focus on the dashboard until there’s suddenly a clicking sound followed by a buzz, and immediately a different shade of blue lightning flashes on her face from the direction of the dashboard, but what’s more there’s an abrupt intense roar of the pod’s engine as proof of its awakening.

The pod even lifts just ever so slightly up, prepared for flight as alas Dana has managed to crack through its security and with incredible speed at that, the joy of the pod’s engine even bringing a relieved smile to her face as she turns around while declaring, “Okay, let’s go back there-,” only to find that neither of the two are in their seats.

Understandably puzzled, she then pops her head out of the doorway to find the two walking back in the direction of the now fully visible white spike tower, to which she hastily throws herself out of the pod while the engine continues to run, admonishing: “What the hell are you guys doing???”

But only a few steps forward are taken before she no longer requires their verbal answer, as she finds that all the way down the lunar field formerly concealed with spikes and riddled with artillery, she can make out the figures of two men facing each other almost in conversation.

Bewildered by the strange sight, Dana’s eyes sharpen to peer closer while she mutters to herself, “Huh…what are you….”

Struck with the force of a truck, Dana’s sharp glare instantly expands fully wide, her golden ringed green eye accumulating water from below that causes it to gleam, distorting the reflection of the two unmasked men speaking to one another all the way down the field.

There is no heaving, no exhaustion that speaks of a brawl, no physical excuse for the leader’s passive state. They are not passing remarks while struggling to regain any strength, in fact they are within range of each other’s assaults yet neither of them even attempt to make one against the other. The grand final battle that was expected to transpire behind those spikes was not one at all, the plan agreed on had become something else entirely. Something she did not anticipate.

He had made a decision on his own, and chosen not to tell her. For the ultimatum he made was one he knew she would have objected to.

Immediately Dana sprints forward, her initial leap cracking the rocks beneath her, every step her golden claws carving into the floor before springing her forward by the mechanisms of her golden legs thrusting her, her amber bangs frantically waving in the wind as she dashes straight between Kokei and Ekitai who immediately upon noticing her haste follow with sprints of their own. Ekitai pants and wheezes in agony, his body fatigued multiple times over from the long escape, his legs wanting nothing more to lock up and stop.

Yet he allows no such leisure, instead pushing himself alongside Kokei who also heaves in exhaustion needing to push her body which naturally has little physical endurance and furthermore has been weary since she woke up.

The three abandon the active pod ready for flight, instead leaving the engine to run as they do the opposite direction, racing down the lunar plain towards the direction of the two men off in the distance, a straight line onward to the central spike down the significantly emptier field, as there are no longer any artillery whether it be the great railguns, missile launchers, or any else clearly not native to the campus.

Dana too appears enervated given her heavy and rapid breathing, although given her cybernetic enhancements there’s a possibility such overdrive of reaction is a product of another stimulus.

She stays just a bit ahead of the other two, who try their best to meet her pace, Ekitai’s arms flailing back and forth and Kokei throwing her body forward with every spring.

Every footstep Dana makes leaves a clawed print on the moon, as every step she makes she clings to the ground before pressing off, her face forward and eyes heavily watery now in feeling the despair of her imagination’s worst prediction.

Through eyes that can hardly even see past all the tears that flood the lenses, Dana faces straight down the campus where the distant man in the leather jacket stands beside the man in the crimson armor.

While their features aren’t well made out from the watery filter, the head movements of the man in the leather can be seen turning to face her, her presence made known.

Only able to know just that, Dana cries out desperately although so horribly sobbed it’s nearly incomprehensible, “WAIT, WHERE ARE YOU GOING? COME BACK, MEDIT!!”

The dread passes to those beside her as the gravity of the situation is confirmed, and while Ekitai struggles to breathe between strides as his lungs were a few steps away from collapse, he nonetheless propels all his strength into the loudest shout he can: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, GET IN THE DAMN POD, WE STILL GOT MORE ADVENTURES YOU DUMBASS!! WE’RE NOT DONE YET!!!”

Her lips slightly parted, Kokei stares ahead through eyes that quickly begin to water on the revelation of the dawning moment, her pink hair waving behind her head as her mouth jitters yet no words manage to seep out.

Closer the three allies get, but all the distance they have made in their sprint away has come back to toll them. Rocks are tossed back from the kicking of the brown and white shoes, and small craters are carved from the heavy stomps of the golden claws that rip the moon, the three sets of legs racing to the two men who stand below the infinite void with brushes of purple and glitter of white. The cyan sunlight streaks down from behind the leader, who glances back to the man in front of him whose right arm begins to blaze a great red flame.

Tears rushing down her cheeks as she propels herself as fast as she can to keep up with Dana same as Ekitai, Kokei takes a deep breath before finally declaring at the top of her lungs: “WAIT…I WANTED TO TELL YOU…THAT I’M SORRY!!”

She gulps down hard before then reaching her right hand out and professing even louder than before, loud enough that it reaches down the cosmic plane, “AND I WANTED TO ASK…IF I COULD BE YOUR FRIEND!!!” in a voice that is received all the way to the two men who stand well in the distance, the devil whose jagged cape and long disheveled black hair waves in the breeze, same as the four locks of the mortal who faces back at him.

Upon the declaration, the man ultimately turns his head back in the direction of the group, but on his face was a wide, heartfelt smile, one that let his teeth shine, and one that stretched his cheeks below the sincere watery azure eyes that gaze back.

His mouth moves ever so slightly but his smile remains intact, even when his chest is struck by the blazing fist that erupts a powerful fiery blow which propels his whole body off the ground.

On the ground sprints Dana, Kokei, and Ekitai, all of their heads moved as they watch their leader flung from the red blast that curls his body forward.

A launch so sudden and fast, given all the cybernetic enhancements that made her surpass human, droid, and superbeing, all Dana can do is turn her head and watch in sobs and a hanging mouth as her amber hair is thrown behind her from the red shockwave.

Soaring up with red mist fizzling from the center of his chest, it doesn’t take a full second for the man’s body to pass straight through the blue scaly net dome shielding the campus, and past the dome all that’s seen behind his body is the tremendous cyan landscape blazing behind the network of huge mechanical rings.

Those rings form a network tunnel starting from the megalithic telescope, a network that the man’s body is promptly lured into, drawing him in the unresistable current that drives him straight in the direction of the cyan abyss, his body coasting down the soft blue cosmic river as a spec among the stars.

Instinctively Dana springs her knees that radiate bright gold light and tenses her face into a ferocious glare in preparation for flight, but she comes short of the actual jump upon the acknowledgement of reality that brings a frown to her face and weakens her determined glare, for he had already went into the stream, and her power wasn’t nearly great enough to resist it.

Instead, all she can do is stare helplessly beside Kokei and Ekitai, all of them watching in silence at the one who had only just proclaimed himself their leader, their light in shining armor.

Within the immense current flowing from the moon to the sun, the one single traveler lets his arms dangle freely, his head low, his locks dancing wildly like the flares behind him. The intense light past him brings a sharp shadow in front that darkens his whole body, as in that moment it’s as though his skin isn’t ghoulish, as though his leather isn’t faded.

In the boundless black void that resides all, edges defined at infinity, the vacuum is beautified by the faint blues and purples of distant nebulas and white specs of faraway stars, an infinite canvas of signals to lives and worlds far from what the eye can see and mind can imagine. Galaxies, solar systems, planets, ecosystems, lives numbered beyond the limits of mathematics, all of it that can be seen from just one look at the cosmos, every dot another collection of planets possibly harboring life possibly harboring stories.

Yet just the same all those possibilities are meaningless when they’re represented by nothing but a white spec in the void, for the universe was so full of life and yet simultaneously hollow, alone, the spectacular space solely solitude.

It is among that infinite void that the figure drifts with its arms stretched out leveled to its shoulders and legs parted in a cross, motionless like the stars, just a shadow. It is that figure who glides effortlessly past the faint nebulae, roaming the cosmic ocean, gliding towards the cyan light that illuminates the leather jacket and the pale face.

The further the man drifts down the river, the more his body shines cyan, coating his whole figure as he allows himself to be guided through the course, not thrashing his legs or resisting its end.

As away from the black void the man drifts, guided from the hollow abyss that has swallowed his life for so long, that has kept his soul cold as the empty space; now the man glides towards the cyan gateway that stretches throughout the macrocosm with its inviting grand light and its welcoming perfervid warmth. Only a spec, a tiny figure, a mortal silhouette moving between whole realities towards the paradise that flares great solar swarms, alive and expressing life in a dance no human could follow.

All that’s left between the two worlds is the final door, the final ring, the end of the tunnel to the other world that the man moves towards.

Straight through the center of the tremendous ring that a city could fit within, the one man passes the last gate with nothing left but the great blue beyond, his white locks breezing past his face as the supersun gets closer, its surface more pronounced, the waterfall at the end of the river.

It is at this moment when the black leather skin of the jacket lights up on cyan flames before rapidly crawling all around the body over the chest, ensnaring the entire torso before then wrapping around the legs, torching it in an instant as the entire shell of the body flashes blue. Just then the blue glow becomes red as at once the impenetrable holoshielding is eradicated before it can react, the flames surpassing the walls and reaching the body. As it is only a few moments later when the red shell flickers away, signifying not only the incineration of the shielding of the holosuit but the holosuit in its entirety. Strands of the leather are ripped off before being instantly cremated, the jacket that had standed multiple generations of heroes finally being put to rest, the collar burning around the neck, gray and black plates blending into the same blue fire.

It is at this moment when the four locks of white hair that had been preserved for years on the decaying bald head are set ablaze, finally released as their tips begin to incinerate and gradually eat in towards the head.

It is at this moment when the pale skin catches flames, quickly grabbing hold of the entire body, and yet even then the man shows no agony, he shows no resistance.

It is at this moment when the man raises his head, a smile still wide on his face, a smile of warmth from a once cold soul that now permeates with life, a smile that could hold still now no matter what fate awaits it, no matter how excruciating and scorching the pain could be. A smile that no longer dreads the past, but looks to the future, a future that it may not be given the privilege to watch, but one it was able to set straight for those who will.

As his body sinks into the supersun, his form lights up in a blue flash, consuming his whole body instantaneously. His arm remains held forward, his hand relaxed open, as it loses all solid composition, and just becomes a shimmer.

Finally, he vanishes in a blinding blue blaze.

In the Black Void, The Cracked Fractured Rusty Blue Key Shatters.