[07] FINALE - Part 1

[DA 2009]

FINALE - PART 1


Alexander Trafford, Ashe, Sage, Sophia

[Sage]

“Begin!!”

Didn’t really matter who said it. One of the eliminators, no doubt. Either way, it didn’t accomplish anything. They were surrounded by force fields and the eliminators tied to Damon’s purse strings. A bunch of mercenaries. People who had long since abandoned their ethics in the pursuit of financial gain.

Or personal gain.

Sage folded her arms and bit her lip as she shuffled uncomfortably. She winced at the wound in her shoulder, but that wasn’t why she was so distraught. Pain wasn’t even that big a deal anymore. Her hand hurt like hell, but it had just become so much noise, filtered out along with everything else.

She was friends with a mercenary. A man who’d killed countless people, and had on dozens of occasions when it wasn’t even necessary. But she had stayed with Vad, despite his many atrocities.

But, then, that wasn’t really it. Vad didn’t kill the changeling or the namek. Or Tamsin. Sage squeezed her eyes shut. She was just a little girl. It was an accident. They all were. But... Sage started grinding her teeth.

Were they really?

The cryomancer turned her eyes to the girl next to her. To Ashe. Sage’s eyes welled with guilt. Her lip trembled with unspoken apology. She had abandoned her, obscuring herself in the Northern Lights. All Ashe wanted to do was be a friend.

“Hold on,” Sophia suddenly interrupted. Sage turned to look at her, and found Alexander pointing a gun at her, and another at one of the eliminators. Hollywood, she thought he was called. “We don’t have to fight each other, do we?” her head swiveled to Alexander. “I don’t... I don’t to fight you again.”

Ace took a drag off his cigarette, and held his breath for a very long moment, before releasing the noxious gas out of the corner of his mouth. He flicked the butt to the street beside him, and trained the Israeli pistol from Sophia onto Kristanna. “Me either.”

Sage’s eyes flickered from Sophia to Ace, and then back to Sophia. What they were suggesting was against the rules! They had to fight each other. That’s what Dante’s Abyss was.

She gazed at Sophia for a moment. If not for her, Sage wouldn’t have lasted a moment in the Friend or Foe tournament. She had risked so much when she didn’t have to, to keep Sage safe. To protect her. The girl glanced over at the bubblegum blond beside her. Ashe wasn’t as capable as Sophia was, but she was certainly a friend.

Sage bit her lip again. She shook her head and closed her eyes. She couldn’t kill them. Fake or not, could she live with the blood of these people on her hands? The people she owed so much? If there was even a chance that this lunatic plan would succeed, she would have to try.

Before she could decide what to do next, Alexander opened fire. Both hand cannons bucked as the sliders slammed backwards. Tongues of flame momentarily ensnared the enormous bullets as the whirled out of their barrels, covered in a sheen of shimmering energy.

The bullets hit their marks, crashing into the foreheads of both Hollywood and Kristanna. But they did nothing. Ace willed them to explode, but they instead became inert, and fell harmlessly to the concrete at their feet.

With a growl, the badly battered man unleashed a salvo of energy-infused .50 Action Express rounds, pulling the triggers until the slides locked open and the triggers clicked uselessly, empty casings jangling off the concrete at his feet. The psychokinetically-enhanced bullets screamed to their targets, but all of them bounced uselessly off of them, just as before.

“What the fuck-??”

Sophia unleashed a sphere of energy, but it fizzled out just before making contact with the Hollywood.

“Told you,” Norris sneered, staring down his nose at Alexander. “You’re all going to fight, four on four. Or we’ll kill you.”

“We... we can’t hurt them,” Ashe murmured. Sage nodded, thinking the very same thing. Already, she and the other three had turned to face one another. There was going to be fighting, it seemed, or the eliminators would destroy them all.

The hybrid took a deep breath, and then fixed her eyes on Ace. He didn’t seem interested in fighting. It looked like he was biding his time. He was breathing hard, and was obviously in very rough shape. He must have been in excruciating pain. Sage could have easily restored him, she knew, but that wasn’t what she was going to do. No...

“Sage-” Ashe had caught her uncharacteristically hard stare. “...Why are you doing this?”

The blue haired girl stiffened, and shot a surprisingly cold glance at her friend. “Why are you doing this??”

They were a good distance from the other two. Out of earshot, at least, and the eliminators had given them space. Ashe still didn’t find all the eyes on her to be much of a comfort. “Sage, I’m just... you’re hurt. I just want to know why.”

“And I don’t want to tell you!” Sage suddenly roared as a frigid gust punctuated her seriousness. Ashe braced herself against the chill, but she was unfazed. She reached out, and took hold of the doctor’s shoulders, ignoring the fact that they were supposed to be in a fight to the death. Alexander still seemed content to delay.

“Why not?! I thought we were friends!” Ashe shouted. “That’s what friends do, Sage! They talk!!”

Sophia looked on with concern, but seemed worried to interfere. Perhaps she wanted to give them their space. Sage wasn’t sure. Ashe shook her.

“What do you want from me?!” the Valium addict retorted, breaking her friend’s hold on her and turning away, but Ashe grabbed her shoulder, spinning the girl back around.

“I want you to fucking talk to me!!” she and Sage were both stunned at Ashe’s choice in words. “I just- you’ve been all standoffish the whole time you’ve been here,” she continued, trying to work past the awkwardness of the moment. “Obviously something’s up.”

Sage just shook her head and closed her eyes, for what must have been the millionth time since she was first teleported to Dante’s Abyss. She took a deep breath, and then looked at her friend. “I... joined this tournament, because I was promised I could find someone if I won.”

“But you hate hurting people-”

“It’s not like that,” the crystal haired hybrid interrupted. “His name is Sol. He,” Sage had hoped to just push through what needed to be said, but found herself choking on her words, instead. She began to sob, but forced her way forward. “...He raped me.”

Not knowing what else to do, Ashe embraced the doctor, who burst into tears, her whole body racked by her sobbing.

“I-It wasn’t just him!” she sniffed. “I was just a kid. When I- when I was- it was my-”

“...Sage?” Ashe tried to remain as calm as possible. “Slow down.”

Sage just nodded, knowing it wouldn’t do any good since Ashe’s head was over her shoulder. She didn’t care. She had to tell the story. But she couldn’t. Every time she tried, a fresh wave of agony closed her throat and turned words into tortured gasps.

So she would show her. Sage closed her eyes, and tried her best to focus as she worked to broadcast her thoughts.

- - - - -

Sage woke up with blurred vision and a piercing headache. She was in... a prison cell of some kind, at the end of a long hall. There was a small bench behind her, and a sink and toilet against the wall. Nothing else. There were no bars on the cell, either, but when Sage tried to step into the hall to see where she was, she bumped into a force field and was rudely hurled back into the room.

For hours, she waited there, hurt and terrified, until finally, someone came.

“Ah, so we did get the runt,” he declared with a disappointed tone. “And I was hoping to acquire you and your sister,” he continued under his breath. “If we only got one, the blonde would have been worth more...”

“Where am I?!” the wild-eyed Sage demanded. The fat man who had spoken with her chuckled, and then reached out, pressing some buttons. With a flash, the force field separating the two fell, and he stepped into the frame of Sage’s cell ‘door.’

“You’re onboard my freighter,” he responded. The man wore a uniform of some kind. Red with gold piping and metal circles on the cuffs and on his chest. Not buttons. His pants were black with white striping on one leg.

“Why did you bring me here?! I want to go home!”

“I’ll bet you do, but I want to get paid. Do you have any idea how much money I had to put together to pay off that fucking bodyguard of yours?”“

“Aurelius!”

“That’s the one.”

“No, he wouldn’t do this.”

“No? Kid,” the man squatted down to become eye level with Sage. “People will do anything for the right price. Your buyer fronted a lot of money to cover what Aurelius wanted in return for you.”

“...What are you-?”

“Do you have any idea what a royal is worth? Especially the daughter of a knock-out like your mom. After I sell you off, I’ll be a very rich man,” the heavyset man interrupted. “Now, be a dear and don’t tell anyone about your heritage,” he smiled for a moment, and then his features went dark. “Nobody knows how valuable you are. And if you tell them, I’ll kill you.”

It was the only opportunity that had ever presented itself for Sage to make an escape attempt, and she had failed to take it.

- - - - -

“Sol sold you as a-” Ashe couldn’t find the words. For a long time, she just stood there, holding Sage, her mouth agape. Finally, she whispered. “As a sex slave?”

Slowly, Sage shook her head. “The fat man is Remy. ...He wanted to... s-sell me. But then...”

- - - - -

Hours quickly turned to days. Sage had no contact with anyone aboard the freighter, except for one man who came down to her cell three times a day with food and drink. He slid the food through the force field. Apparently it only kept things in the cell, not out. The girl quickly felt guilty about this, as she soon learned that the girls in the cells around her only got food once a day.

They were all young, like her.

After two or three days, Sage found a friend in the girl in the cell across from her own. A brown haired girl named Nikita. She had been abducted a year ago, and was a year older than Sage. Nikita told her terrible stories of the things they did to her.

Through her, the princess learned she was aboard a ship that specialized in forced prostitution. Every day, sometimes several times a day, girls from various cells would be taken away at gunpoint by guards, and would come back with hollow, listless eyes and exhausted shuffles. The fact that Sage hadn’t been ‘supplied’ for a client yet was apparently unheard of. Sage didn’t tell her about her royalty; fearful that Remy was serious about his threat.

The freighter cruised about the quadrant, finding clients to ‘hire’ the girls in private rooms aboard the ship, hidden from the laws of their home worlds. The crew had their way with them, too. Apparently it was one of the ‘perks’ of working for Remy.

Nikita was taken a few times, too. She never wanted to talk when she returned. She seemed so... heartbroken. Sage grew to hate Remy and his crew. She grew to hate herself, for the fact she was spared the barbaric treatment of the innocent girls around her.

It had been six days.

A terrible explosion rocked the ship. And then another. Sage was hurled from her bunk, and she crashed into the force field, bouncing off of it and onto the floor. She breathed a sigh of relief. The Saiyan Fleet must have found her.

Shouting came from down the hall, and suddenly, the sounds of gunfire drowned out everything else. Sage climbed to her feet. Nikita was crouched down there, by her force field. Sage got to her knees by the entrance to her cell, and leaned forward.

“What’s going on?” Nikita whispered.

“I don’t know,” the hybrid replied. “I think maybe we’re being rescued.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” the brunette turned away for a moment, before casting a hopeful glance at Sage. “...You think so?”

The pigtailed princess nodded affirmatively. “Just wait and see. I bet soldiers are taking over this ship right now.”

The rescue, however, turned out to be a mutiny. After the gunfire ceased, and the smoke cleared away, a man with a rifle slung over his shoulder came sauntering down the stairs, with dozens of the frieghter’s crew trailing behind him. Sol.

“News, kids. Remy’s dead. I’m in charge now,” he said with a smirk, before moving to the nearest console. “I promised you men all some R&R along with proper pay, huh?”

A few knowing chuckles circulated through the group of heavily armed thugs.

“Why don’t you start with what the house’s got in stock, right?” he grinned, tapping a few buttons. The force fields for every cell instantly died away. Including Sage’s. The blue haired girl’s eyes went wide, and she stared at Nikita, who stared right back.

Sage scrambled backwards, and ducked under her bunk. It was hopeless. Systematically, the cells were entered, and girls were dragged out. Though Sage was the last one, she was not an exception. A greasy, bearded man dragged her out by her arm.

“No!!” she shrieked. “Leave me alone!!”

The man just chuckled, until Sage punched him in the gut, a spear of ice extending from her fist. The impaled man gurgled at her, before slumping backwards onto the floor.

“Oh, shit!” someone shouted. Immediately, three ki rifles were leveled at her and fired. Electricity coursed over her as she convulsed and collapsed.

“Nobody said we had a fuckin’ lightbringer on board!!”

“She’s not a lightbringer,” Sol retorted. “I never seen nobody make weapons like that, though. What the fuck was that?”

Sage grimaced against the pain, digging her nails into the metallic floor. “Why don’t you see for yourself?!” she roared, flipping over and throwing her hand out at Sol. Nothing happened. Grinning at her shocked expression, he wiggled the rifle on his shoulder.

“Ki disruptor,” he declared. “It’ll fuck with your powers until we can get you fitted with a proper dampening bracelet, to keep you from doing that again,” he said, gesturing at the dead man next to Sage. He didn’t seem perturbed in the least. Instead, Sage found amusement in his eyes, where anger should have been.

“What are you-”

“Know what?” Sol grinned. “I think I’ll take you for myself,” his declaration was met by a few choice words. “Ah, don’t worry. When I’m through, you guys can take her. We just took this ship! Let’s make this a good night.”

Sage’s eyes darted back and forth, searching for some kind of out. She couldn’t get up and she still couldn’t summon her powers. Finally, Sol grasped her upper arm. “Wait!! You can’t do this!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, but I think I can,” he retorted, hoisting the thirteen-year-old to her feet.

“No, really! You don’t know who I am!!” Sage insisted.

“And who are you, sweetheart?” the lanky, unshaven, greasy dark man inquired.

“My name is... Sage. I’m the princess of Vegeta-Sei,” she said. Her declaration was met with raucous laughter from all of Sol’s men, and from he himself.

“Right,” he spat. “Alright, ‘princess.’ Let’s go have some fun.”

“But I am! Really! You have to-”

Sol backhanded the girl onto the floor. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled.

- - - - -

Sage’s eyes had become more dismal than Ashe had ever seen. Heartbroken, like she had described Nikita. “He... took... me. And when he was finished... he... gave me to them.”

She buried her face in Ashe’s shoulder. The teenager felt paralyzed, and for a long time, she didn’t do or say anything. Finally, she ran her fingers through Sage’s hair, still a little bit surprised that the girl didn’t recoil away from her. “I... don’t- I’m so sorry.”

Sage shook her head. Through sobs, “It’s okay.”

Ashe pulled back from her, shaking her a little. “No, Sage. No, it’s not okay. What they did to you is horrible!! It’s no wonder things have been so hard for you.”

Sage felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She shook her head again. “Not as hard as Nikita.”

“I’m sorry,” Ashe repeated. “How did you... how did you get out of there?”

“I guess...” Sage breathed, trying to level her voice. “...Word got out that there were problems on the ship. It was attacked... in the morning. Raiders, I think. Sol fought them off, but the ship was really badly damaged. They abandoned ship with whatever they had close to them. Even the girls. I was lucky, I guess. Nikita... they took her. I never saw her again,” Sage swallowed hard. “Soldiers came onto the ship. They found us - the ones they left - and they took us away. I managed to convince my sister to find a way to bring me back so my parents wouldn’t find out.”

“...What? How is that even possible?? Why would you do that?!” Ashe demanded.

“I just...” Sage looked around herself, as though she might find the right words to say. She didn’t. “I just didn’t want to hurt them.” the hybrid started to bawl, shaking violently in Ashe’s arms, her words suddenly racing. “I know it’s stupid, but I was so scared and then I just sort of got used to it and we just stopped talking about it and I just stopped talking and-”

“Slow down, Sage,” the bubblegum blond insisted. Again.

“I... stopped seeing my friends. I stopped talking to anyone outside of my family. Especially my sister. I swore never to use my powers again.”

“...Why?”

“Because all of this was... was like a punishment.”

“What?!” Ashe retorted. “How can you say that??”

“My friend’s mom was robbed a week before I was taken away. The ones who did it were arrested, but I was so mad, I went down to the prison and I... killed all of them. The guards couldn’t stop me; I was too strong for them.”

“How did you get into their cell?”

“...I’m a princess. On my planet, I could do whatever I wanted to,” she said as tears rolled down her eyes. “I never told this to anyone but my sister,” Sage shook her head. “I can’t do this anymore; I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“You said you were looking for Sol!” Ashe demanded, trying to keep Sage focused. “What happened? Where did he go?”

“H-He escaped on a shuttle. My sister s-sabotaged it. It exploded. I thought he was dead. I was wrong.”

“And that’s why you’re here,” Ashe breathed. Sage nodded, her eyes completely bloodshot. She noticed Sophia looking on with a mortified expression. Apparently she’d heard at least part of it. It was just as well; she deserved to know. Ace was off having another cigarette. There was no quarrel here. And yet, they all had to kill each other.

No... Sage had to kill them.

Another series of sobs threatened to overtake the girl as she fought them back, still in the arms of her friend.

She had to kill them, didn't she?

...Didn't she?

[Jesper]

Sophia remained uncharacteristically silent as the other three remaining contestants awkwardly shuffled about, fixating their glares on the four mercenaries that surrounding them as if it would have affected matters any. They were paid to be there. They were paid to take abuse, and more importantly, they were paid to not take slack from anyone, let alone four youngsters who had resorted to shriveling up in fear at the mere sight of danger. The healer stole a momentary glace at Sage, who had proven time and time again that she was the only person who had any idea what was going on at any given point.

She scoffed—it was kind of pathetic, really. How long had she been on the island? A couple days? A few? Weeks seemed more like it, and with no discernable passing of time, she had no way of telling. She had fought so hard to remain alive, though her existence seemed to be neither living nor dead. She merely floated along, watching both friend and stranger alike get picked off one-by-one. Now she stood, facing her worst nightmare as the competitors stood in a semi-circle, glancing around for someone to make the first move.

Then there was Sage. Why she chose that moment to announce her traumatized childhood was beyond Sophia. Maybe it was a tactic she deployed to lower all of her guards, though a glance at the broken-down girl didn’t exactly reveal the capacity for such a cold-hearted strategy. Regardless, her story only made a difficult situation worse. After all, who could possibly try to fight someone who had just announced that she had been raped? Nobody with a beating heart, Sophia surmised.

“That was a great story,” Hollywood sighed, adjusting the sunglasses that hung just over his nose. “Doesn’t particularly matter, but it was good. Lots of conflict.”

“Don’t tease the poor child, Ray,” Kristanna hissed.

“Oh, what does it matter?” the man waved her off. “They’re still going to fight. They don’t have a choice.”

“No,” the stoic Namekian breathed beside them. “They don’t.”

His words lingered on the field of their eventual battle, swirling around in their brains until the meaning of the statement sank in. Sophia made sure she looked each person in the face—Ashe, then Sage, then Alexander Trafford—before she even considered her options. Her situation was less dire than the ones of the others. She knew that. After all, they all had lives to live. The afterlife had removed any preconception the healer had ever had about life and death, and the less-than-subtle threats of the mercenaries just didn’t scare her the way she knew they should have.

The choice was still hers to make. Death to her just meant a homecoming to her; life just a vacation. So far, the party had been a bust, and the participants weren’t exactly throwing around confetti. Sage had been sobbing for quite some time, Ashe tried her best to console her, and Trafford was standing off to the side, undertaking a pattern of puffing on his cigarette and clearing his throat loudly. There was nothing there for her anymore. She had no reason to be there. Sophia didn’t know about anyone else—she merely stared at Hollywood through empty eyes.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Ray Norris rolled his eyes behind shaded lenses. “Did you not hear me? I’m going to need you to fight the other three, or I’ll slaughter you.”

“I…” she glanced behind her shoulder. All eyes were on her. “I heard you.”

“What do you guys need, a cloud of fire?” he threw his hands up in the air. “Go! Fight! Right now! Time’s a-wastin’.”

“It was a pillar of fire, you ignorant jerk,” she whispered, her head lowered. With her mind finally made up, she looked up at him, fire burning behind her eyes, “If you’re going to kill me, then kill me! Do it! I’m standing right here!”

“We have a scrappy one,” Kristanna sighed.

“More like ‘crazy bitch,’” Hollywood frowned. “I didn’t think Dukes would pick someone so…suicidal.”

“She’s one of the fighters brought from the afterlife, garcon,” Pierre offered. “Of course she won’t take you seriously. She’s already dead.”

“Oh yeah, the halo,” Ray spoke, eyes fixated upon the bright ornament floating above her head. “Well…fine, whatever. How’s this: if you don’t fight, I’ll kill all of them. For real.”

Sophia’s eyes opened as her mind poured over all he had said. Could he really do that? Deaths in Dante’s Abyss were supposed to be fake, according to Sage. She endured all the talk about following the rules, but when push came to shove, they would really forsake everything that had been set up. And for what? Spite? Sophia had never felt more disgusted than she felt at that moment.

Her pupils started to dilate, and her muscles tensed up. She felt…anxious as she tried to determine what it was she had to do. It was confusing, to say the least, what her situation had become. It was clear to her that she had to fight her friends, one and all, or their deaths would be on her hands. Besides, Sophia had given up her own life so long ago to prolong the lives of Ashe and Sage. The irony of being the cause of their eventual deaths instead would have been too much for her to bear.

“I…I think he’s bluffing,” Sage said, almost in a whimper.

“I agree,” Ashe frowned.

Sophia shot a glare at Sage. “Can you really take that chance?” she turned her eyes to the pink-haired teenager. “Can you?”

“Why is this such a problem now?” Norris groaned. “They’ve fought each other before, right?”

“People have limits,” Pierre shrugged.

“Limits my ass,” he shook his head. “Guys, your lives are on the line. If it were me, I wouldn’t even hesitate.”

“No, I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Alexander Trafford chuckled darkly. He turned to the other three, gripping his Desert Eagles. “Let’s just do it. I don’t know about you, but I’d take fake death over real death any day,” he glanced at Sophia. “No offense.”

Sophia signaled her agreement by lighting azure orbs of ki within the palms of her hands. Trafford’s eyes still bore the same taint of guilt, shame, and sorrow, but he allowed the edges of his lips to curve upward into a slight grin as he raised his weapons. Ashe and Sage slowly moved to the back of her mind as her sight focused on the orange locks of hair. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as her heart rate elevated. If Damon Dukes wanted a show, if Hollywood was getting bored, then she would make sure that she would not disappoint.

Both fighters attempted to take the first shot, but they ended up moving simultaneously as Sophia leapt forward and Trafford pulled the trigger of his weapon. The slugs spiraled to their target before the man willed them to explode; Sophia, in her haste, almost took the full force of the shots, though she managed to raise her arms and make herself small enough to squeeze through the flames without taking a fatal amount of damage. Her curiosity was piqued when she detected the presence of ki coated around the shells, but she didn’t have the time to do anything but absorb what she could.

The golden colors of the flame divided as she rushed through them; she skidded on the pavement as she neared the redhead. Drawing upon the miniscule amounts of energy that she had obtained, she amplified the strength of her own beam of ki as she raised two open hands and fired. Alexander widened his eyes and lunged to the side, noting the close call inwardly as the energy soared past him. Sophia could have easily been caught staring at the beauty of the beam before it eventually exploded in the distance as Trafford had been, but she knew that she had a golden opportunity to strike when his head was turned. Placing her hands on the ground, she pushed off of them like a lioness stalking her prey, propelling herself forward with as much speed as she could muster.

Catching a fighter of Trafford’s caliber off guard, as it turned out, was harder than advertised. She wound a fist back as far it would go and pushed it forward with enough force to knock off his head, but he ducked out of the way not even a second before it found its mark. Tightening a fist of his own under his solid leather fingerless glove, he sent a menacing uppercut towards her chin. Exhaling slightly, Sophia rose up and caught the man’s arm with two hands. She failed in completely stopping the blow, but the maneuver softened it somewhat and gave her an advantage in the next exchange.

I don’t even remember how to do this, Sophia thought, trying to recall her fighting lessons, however brief they were. It was Tale Vudo, or…something. If she could gain the leverage by…if she could just strengthen her grip on…Ah, screw it.

She brought up her leg in a swift kick, taking advantage of Trafford’s rather…wide stance. Her attack hit its target (or targets, if she wanted to get specific), and a cough and a hack from Alexander ensued. As he stumbled back in obvious pain, he swung forward wildly and caught Sophia along the jaw.

“This is more like it,” Hollywood sighed in the background. “Dunno what I would have done…”

[Ashe]

There were moments in every event when something about the contestants changed, some for the duration of the situation, some for the rest of their lives. Some... beyond that, Ashe thought as she looked at Sophia from across the ring. Must've heard Sage's story, too.

She pulled the blue haired doctor close to her chest as she cried, rubbing her hands over her back as she dwelled in thought. The Eliminators, however, didn't allow her that convenience. Ashe's mind reeled in and out of the current events as she tried to piece together the remnants of Sage's shattered life with the pressured words from the man in sunglasses.

"Well... fine, whatever. How's this: if you don't fight, I'll kill all of them. For real," he threatened to Sophia, who stiffened in response.

Her ears locked onto that final bit of information at the end. What exactly did he mean by 'For real'? She'd gone through most of this event arguing within her mind about this very situation. Was this merely a game or an actual group assassination event?

The fear of death had been very, very real. She had felt actual pain, actual stress, and true terror at the thought of being killed. If it had been just a game, what had stopped her from just standing there and getting 'eliminated'.

On the other hand, Kristanna had used the precise words of 'eliminate' over 'kill'. The actual wand that had struck Vincent seemed to be equivalent to a game controller using a targetting laser to remove that object from within the game scene. But then after Kristanna had turned to leave, she had asked Ashe directly 'what if you are wrong?' There was only one thing she could be referencing there.

But just now, the man identified as Norris seemed to slip up and inform them that it wasn't real.

Though what did that matter now? He clearly said he was going to kill them for real with that exact same phrase, so regardless of the past events, it had no bearing on their survival chances now.

Could he really take them all out, here?

"I... I think he's bluffing," the girl at Ashe's side whispered, her mind processing the information as well.

"I agree."

The priestess turned on the doctor in a moment. "Can you really take that chance?" she seethed, causing the girl to go rigid. Ashe met her eyes directly, defiantly. "Can you?" she found herself asked.

The pair of girls turned from her oppressive stare and looked to the Eliminators surrounding the group. "Ashe... I have to find Sol," Sage declared with finality, her fist closing tight at her side. Her sad eyes turned back up to Ashe after a few deep breaths. "I... I'm sorry..."

Vengeance was that important to her, she realized. Sage felt that somehow by getting back at her attacker, she could take back that bit of herself that he had taken from her. It made everything from Ashe's own past seem so minor in comparison that she turned away disgusted at herself for a moment.

"Sage..."

She closed her eyes, reflecting over the events of the tournament. Every step of the way had been a mere step for survival, dodging one direction or another. For Sage, every step had been a progression one, leading her closer and closer to her actual goal.

Why was it that each of them fought? She was simply here and fighting out of fear of the possibility of dying. But was that important enough to her that it was worth that same scenario killing another of her friends and denying them their goal just because of her fear? Sophia was here once more. Death was not the permanent oblivion that she had been lead to believe, at least for some.

What was Sophia fighting for? She was here and fighting for her chance to be returned to life, Ashe assumed. She might have been taking a once in a... A sad laugh broke her lips. She couldn't consider coming from the afterlife and trying to earn the right to live once more as a 'once in a lifetime opportunity' when it wasn't granted till after that had ended. She couldn't deny Sophia her chance at coming back, but nothing guaranteed that. If they had that power, then there could be other ways.

Trafford... To be honest, Ashe had no idea as to what the man was here for. She knew nothing about him. As selfish as it sounded, she didn't particularly care what his goals were for the event. No, she stopped herself. He was a person just like they were. She couldn't just assume that his opinions were meaningless just because she didn't know him.

But Sage was her friend. Two out of four was still better odds than one out of four when it came to accomplishing your goal, but could she deprive the others of their own? She had to. Even if she was fighting for herself, with no true goal in mind, she would be denying them their own chances.

She turned slowly, her hand slowly drifting out through the air to allow her to better view the stream of cobalt hued energy sliding throughout her fingertips like smoking tendrils. She repeated the motion, moving her hands out in front of her as if she were outlining an expansive invisible stomach. Her hands began to glow brighter and she smiled, looking up to her friend as she held them forward to show her. "See? I... I might be able to do it. If I learn more, I mean." On cue, her energy dimmed a moment before returning for her. "Its tough, but I'm finding that the harder I try, the tougher I make it on myself. If I just... I have to just let it come on its own and stop trying to make it come to me."

The doctor nodded slowly, a smile coming to her own face a moment before fading quickly. "I'm glad for you, Ashe. I- I never learned- well..." she stammered. "I don't have the ability to use it. I'm pretty sure I don't, anyway. I'm glad you can."

"Thanks."

They both watched each other a moment more before a slow trickling stream of ice protruded from Sage's knuckles, growing into a set of blades to use in the upcoming fight that they were all forced to partake in. "Are you ready?" the blue haired girl asked her pink haired friend.

"I think so. And Sage," she prompted, before popping her neck and moving into a stance that she had been taught. "I want you to know something. I am your friend. If... by some wild feat of luck... I survive this ordeal, even if I don't have to eliminate anyone to do so," she added quickly. "I'll help you find this guy."

Sage's eyes widened a bit. "Ashe, no, I can't let-"

"Can it. Time to fight now, so don't try to talk me out of it. That's the reward I'm hoping to get if this is actually a game. So get over it."

Her blue hair swept through the air as she shook her head, opening her mouth to argue the point. Ashe didn't let her, however, as she charged in, watching the girl stop mid gasp to defend herself from the incoming assault. "As-" she attempted, taking her breath in deep as she threw her hands up to block the strikes. "Wha-"

"I told... you that... I'm not... changing my mind!" she screamed between breaths, throwing a quick horizontal sweeping punch, catching Sage across the mouth as she let her guard down to argue once more. Ashe immediately pulled back to keep from hitting too hard, but it was a bit late. Sage hit the ground hard and Ashe's fingertips covered her mouth as she quickly apologized. She rushed over to Sage's side to help her back to her feet but the girl looked at her with an icy glaze over her eyes as a small trickle of blood ran down her bottom lip.

Ashe's eyes flashed blue and she saw the energy gathering for Sage's attack before the girl made any sign of physically gathering it, as if her intention manifested before she intended to control it. It was very different from the standard sight that she'd seen when someone used their Ki. Sage was wrong, Ashe believed. She could access her Ki, she just seemed as if she could only use it at the base level of manipulating the cold rather than in its raw form.

She didn't have much time, her psyche realized, and she threw her arms up over herself as the pained girl before her suddenly threw both of her hands forward, shards of ice crystalizing directly before her and flinging themselves in the direction of her opponent. Even more surprising than the viciousness of the bladestorm in her direction was her immediate response to it. A wave of her own Ki exploded from her glowing palms and flashed in front of her, covering a small space directly before her as she cowered behind it.

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite large enough or strong enough, allowing small blades of frost to penetrate the very edges and a few of the weaker spots in the hastily made defense. They painfully cut across the extremeties of her flesh that weren't covered, her ear lobe, her ankle, her elbows. She'd even taken a small razor to her hip bone, thankfully deflecting off the bone. "Ahh!" she cried out, the shield dimming a moment as she winced in pain, looking over her wounds.

It was Sage's turn to be surprised, her cold stare faltering for just a moment. "I'm sorry!" she cried out, her own defenses lowering for just a moment.

"Now we're even," Ashe pointed out, leaning down to check her wounds for a moment. "But remember, we're doing this, to help you find Sol!" she cried out, throwing her arms in a backhand motion, the shield of energy flying away from her as if propelled physically by her arms.

It slammed into Sage and sent her flying back through the air, her arms flailing wildly before she hit the ground, a small shield of snow reducing her impact before hitting the ground. Ashe drew an arm across her mouth slowly, finding a bit more blood on her cheek from her ear. Her gaze locked onto each of the Eliminators, some of them thrilled at the turn of events, some of them uncaring, one of them almost sad. She had to do this, though. She had to make sure that no matter who won, Sage found her peace. The girl had gone through so much in this event and had made so many sacrifices to her normally timid persona. Ashe wasn't going to let her fall.

Sage would find her peace.

[Alexander Trafford]

It had been awhile since the suds had rinsed from his body and from his golden locks; yet he remained. A bar of soap was slowly eroding at his feet, long since discarded and forgotten. He positioned himself beneath the constant flow of hot, steaming water, allowing it to cascade over his naked body. With his hand braced against the plastic wall in front of him, Trafford leaned towards the showerhead. The long and bony fingers of his free hand ran restlessly through his soaked, disheveled hair. He had no idea how long he had been standing within the confines of the small shower. Instead of dwelling on such trifle things as time, Alexander stared at the shower drain with moist, empty eyes, and watched attentively as a crude cocktail of crimson blood and grit swirled around the conduit– fighting desperately to escape its dooming grasp – before surrendering and slipping into oblivion.

Was that what he was doing, surrendering? Was he slowly allowing himself to slip into an abyss? Into nothingness?

He shook his head and twisted the handle, terminating the flow of water from the shower head.

~~~*~~~

Alexander grimaced and stumbled backwards. Both of his hands shot towards his belt line in order to aid his groin, he dropped his two high caliber handguns in the process. Pain stabbed like knives throughout his lower midsection, tearing at his will and forcing him to double over. There was nothing in this world that could silence momentum faster than a swift kick to the privates.

“Fucking wench,” Trafford grunted as he slowly erected himself. He readjusted his dirt-stained, blood-soaked suit jacket and straightened his besmirched oxford’s collar, and then set his gaze towards his foe.

He had to kill her this time, he thought to himself as his Desert Eagles raced across the earth’s hard surface and returned to his tight grip. This girl had escaped him once, but not again. Alex knew now that she was not Alice, and he would not be confused by her appearance. It was true, he reminisced, she did resemble his former lover and, as long as he saw Alice in her, he would never be able to move on. And that is why he knew he must kill her, and that he must kill her quickly.

This was the first fight that he could remember where he was not riddled with emotion; at least not at the level he had become accustomed to. Everything seemed so faint, and so surreal. It was nice to finally be able to see the world through sane eyes, though he doubted the possibility that he had recaptured the perspective of his distant past. The peaceful, controlled life he had become used to was gone; his father had made sure of that. But here, now, as the curtains were beginning to close on Dante’s Abyss, he seemed to have regained some of his old composure.

But it was more than that. He was focused on his opponent. His stare had narrowed in such a way that she was the only thing that mattered to him now. Death was imminent. It was as if someone, or something, had painted across his vision a single stroke of crimson paint. He could see only one end, and he had only one means of arriving at that end.

He saw peace, but it could only be achieved by her death. The mountain that he now climbed in search of absolution had been full of many obstacles, and not all of those barriers were internal. Some, he noted, were actions that would affect others and, no matter how wrong these efforts were, they had to be done.

So, he reassured himself, as much as he did not want to kill this young woman, he had to kill her.

“And she’s already dead,” Trafford whispered to himself as his gaze settled on the faint, golden halo that hovered idly less than a foot over her head. “It’s not as if she’ll mind too much.”

Alexander slid his handheld cannons back into their respective holsters and, in their place, pulled out a pair of old, leather gloves. His visage was cold and determined, and his stare never left his advancing opponent. There was nothing to say, no quips of clever lines, just a smirk as he pulled the worn material over his fingers. And then he rushed forward.

Sophia slowed as they met in the middle, half-expecting Trafford to do the same. If he had learned anything from this tournament, it had been to do exactly what your opponent did not expect. The ground beneath his feet began to flicker with a brilliant golden hue, before exploding and propelling Alex forward like cannon fire. As he raced towards his foe, who appeared to have recoiled backwards in surprise, his fist became encased with the glimmering color of his raw power.

He landed a right haymaker against the side of her face, sending the young girl staggering backwards. Trafford landed in stride from his attack and continued to advance, wildly sending hooks and crosses into his opponent’s defenses, desperately hoping that each strike would break through her sloppy parrying.

The young psychokinetic ducked hurriedly as his opponent countered with a quick jab towards his skull. Lunging forward from his crouched stance, Alex rammed his shoulder into the girl’s abdomen, causing her to double over. As he pulled back and straightened his body, attempting to reenter the fight proper, his foe’s hand stabbed forward and latched onto his wrist.

“What the hell?” Trafford hissed as he fell to his knees. Everything had happened to suddenly. As soon as she had touched him a strange exhaustion spread from his core and sucked the life from each of his limbs. He could feel his skin tighten and his strength recede. In a desperate attempt to break the peculiar hold Alex swung his feet towards the girl and swept her legs out from underneath her.

Scurrying away, the entertainer dragged himself to an erect position. He shook himself and staggered backwards as he inhaled long, deep breaths. It felt as if his soul had been forcefully sucked from his body. A vast emptiness filled his usually supercharged figure. Meanwhile, Sophia looked relieved and refreshed. A golden mist evaporated into her skin and ignited as azure orbs in her palms. She was the one smiling now, as she thrust her hands forward.

Trafford smirked, and lifted his hand casually. The grin quickly faded from his arrogant visage. The augmented wall of sand and stone that he had been expecting never came.

“Oh, shit,” Alex whispered. He did not dive to the side, like Belle or the courier would have done, he simply stood there and stared as the azure spheres of power collided into his chest and erupted in a devastating but beautiful explosion.

The pain overcame him and everything went black. He was not aware, or probably even conscious, as his body was hurled backwards and skidded like a stone across the city floor. When his eyes did snap open, it was only because the stench of his own burnt and charred flesh caused his body to spasm in disgust.

He was confused, and, more than that, he was in excruciating pain. It was no mystery what had happened. Like he had done to Vad Zulenka and to Belle Hibiki, she had managed to absorb his energy and utilize it as her own. But how had she managed to take from him that amount of power in such a short amount of time? Sure, the finer points of his own abilities escaped him, but he had never experienced such a physical, mental and spiritual exhaustion. It took everything he had just to pull himself back onto his feet. And even that he did not want to do.

“That was cute,” Trafford mocked his opponent as he withdrew a fresh cigarette and tucked it into the corner of this mouth, although, this time, he opted to light the smoke with his Zippo. Sophia dropped into a fighter’s stance, tensing her muscles as she prepared for another round of melee combat.

Alexander shrugged his shoulders and sighed, exhaling a rather large plume of bluish grey smoke that danced and swirled as it rose to the energetic ceiling. His hand shot inside his suit and withdrew a single Desert Eagle, which he quickly leveled at his foe. He did not have time to waste on this girl anymore.

The gold-plated handgun bucked backwards as he pulled the trigger. Small tongues of orange flame exploded from the weapon’s barrel, immediately followed by a fifty-caliber cylinder of steel. The cartridge, and the two others that quickly followed, immediately became encased in a wrapping of golden energy.

Sophia quickly noticed that the bullets had not been staggered, and were all following the same, straight path. In response, she dove to her right and rolled over her shoulder and onto her knees. Trafford flicked his free hand and redirected the bullets so that they curved in her direction, and, rather than allowing her another chance to escape, he opted for damage over death and prematurely detonated the augmented slugs. The subsequent explosions were not as close to her as he would have liked, but they accomplished their goal and sent her sprawling onto her back.

Alexander quickly moved forward and, as she was pulling herself onto her feet, he was already in position. Shooting his arm in the direction of his opponent, Trafford opened up the all-too-familiar psychokinetic connection with the slightly older girl, but this time he was in control.

With one hand extended towards Sophia, his fingers extended in her direction, and his Desert Eagle leveled at her chest, the street entertainer felt relief wash over him. It was not the refreshment that he would receive in another moment, but a different kind of relief – a spiritual relief. He could not understand it, or even comprehend it, but he allowed it.

A second swell overcame him, this time at the expense of his opponent, who had fallen onto her back and had stiffened. Her skin, in the same manner that his had, became taut. Veins pressed against the tightened flesh as he siphoned her energy from whatever well she possessed.

“It’s time to end this,” Trafford whispered and cocked the hammer back on his Desert Eagle. “You are not Alice, and you shall receive no more mercy from me.”

His long, bony finger pulled back on the trigger. As his high-caliber hand-cannon recoiled and an augmented slug shot forth from the barrel, he could feel her stir within his soul. A single tear fell from the corner of his eye. He prayed that this was the end. Was peace so much to ask for?

He found himself chuckling as reality slowly advanced. Was his soul so corrupted that he could even consider peace possible? There was so much blood on his hands, yet, he had no other options but to spill more.

Perhaps, he thought, the gun should have been pressed against his own head.

[DA 2009]

“Have another!” Josh said merrily, pulling another green longneck bottle from the carton. He placed the tip of the cap against the corner of a very expensive table, and simultaneously slammed his palm on the cap and jerked the bottle away, effectively popping the top…and scratching the furniture. The chairman shoved the bottle at Audric, who reluctantly accepted it with a forced smile on his face.

“WOOOOO! YEAH!” Drake cheered at the screen, clapping his hands enthusiastically. “This is great stuff? Look at them go at it!”

Damon nodded. It was about that time. Doing so would mean he’d miss some of the action, but his gamble would simply have to take that risk. He got up from his chair, signaling the beginning of the final move. Audric glanced up at him and desperately mouthed, ‘Don’t leave me alone with him!’ Damon merely smiled and politely excused himself, despite Josh’s protests that he was going to miss out on the grand finale that he’d elaborately constructed. Dukes left anyway. He walked through the empty corridors, unfettered by the pairs of guards stationed at every corner. You’d think it was a military facility.

Before long, the host found himself within the chamber that housed the players’ capsules. He nodded towards a lead medic and slowly began to unbutton his thousand-zeni shirt. No words exchanged between employer and employees as the department head willingly stepped inside a capsule of his own, staring straight ahead as the team carefully hooked him up to the machine. To someone uninformed of the situation, it almost looked as if a man had willingly gone to face his own execution, lying still instead of fighting back as tubes and wires and electrodes stuck in and around his body. An oxygen mask fitted over his face, and he flinched as twin needles drilled into his temple. The sound of his own steady breathing steaming against the molded plastic thrummed in his ears. Damon Dukes felt himself be enveloped in one of those moments where one could not help but ask themselves, ‘How did I get here? How did this happen to me? How did I become this person?’ He could vividly see his own childhood: a boy of innocence from a family that ebbed and flowed of happiness, but not of money. He had worked hard to become a man of power, of influence, and of affluence. The host had gotten exactly what he wanted, although perhaps never in a way a child could have imagined, as Damon had become the monsters he’d so willingly surrounded himself with…and he was good at it.

The medic looked at him, and Damon closed his eyes and nodded. A cool sensation washed over him as he felt consciousness slowly elude him. Audric had asked him why he would do it, why he would risk going inside the machine for a sinking ship. As the last threads of his awakened state left him, the ever-vigilant chess master remembered his reply:

Sometimes, in order to win, the king must be put into play.

-----

Hollywood and the others watched carefully as the battle before them unfolded. Then a hand went up to his ear, or more specifically, to the device in his ear. He gave the rest of his fellow Eliminators a meaningful look, and they all expressed their comprehension of the silent signal. He faced towards Alex and Sophia, taking a deep breath before jumping in between them and spreading his arms out wide.

“Time out,” the stuntman grinned cockily.

Alex refused to listen. “No time out. I’m going to finish this.”

Suddenly, he felt a massive pair of arms completely encircle his body from behind, lifting him off the ground. The great namekian Caracol imprisoned him within a fierce reverse bear hug that cut off not only the street entertainer’s circulation but also his ability to draw breath. The frail psychokinetic struggled against the hold, but could not break it. Hollywood glanced at Sophia.

“Do I need to restrain you?” he asked suggestively.

The priestess shook her head, swallowing hard as she fought the rush of adrenaline that surged within. Vale Dura and Pierre interceded on behalf of Ashe and Sage, yielding the same results of halting the battle.

“We’re doing exactly what you want. What’s going on now?” Ashe demanded, warily eyeing the Eliminators ringing them.

“This part is over,” Hollywood shrugged. “We needed to know you could fight, no matter who it was. Would you three come with us, please?”

Hollywood gestured, but it was not yet certain to whom he referred. Caracol began to walk away, Trafford still tightly ensconced in his grip. Ashe, Sophia, and Sage also stepped forward, a pit of fear building in their stomachs…fear of failure, fear of death. Kristanna grabbed Ashe tightly by the shoulder, and the cautious eyes of Sage and Sophia did not miss this action.

“W-what are you going to do?” Sage demanded.

“That’s none of your business,” Kristanna answered as softly as possible.

“This isn’t right!” Sophia chided, her fists balling up tightly.

Trafford, of course, didn’t care as to the fate of his three opponents, but the two girls, despite not knowing completely what would happen to their friend, were far more reluctant to let anything divide them…even though they had been trying to kill each other mere moments ago.

“Just go, guys. I’ll be alright,” Ashe assured, although her smile was tightlipped, her voice wavering.

“Ashe,” Sage said, her bottom lip quivering.

“Come on, Sage,” Sophia ushered, going over to the girl and putting a comforting hand on her arm as she pulled her away. The priestess glanced over at Ashe, and then forcibly moved herself and the doctor to follow the rest of the Eliminators.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Ashe looked down and asked, “This is the end of the line for me, isn’t it?”

Kristanna waited a moment before answering, “Yeah, it is. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

“You remember what I said, right? About my parents?” Ashe reminded.

“I remember,” the android agreed.

“By the way, I don’t even think I know your name,” the student chuckled nervously.

“It’s Kristanna. You should know me very well,” the undercover officer replied cordially. The sound of a gun being slid from its holster filled the silence. “Turn around, please. I’m not going to do this to your back.”

Ashe complied, standing perfectly still. Some part of her urged her to run, to flee, survive, but she knew it would be pointless. She stared Kristanna directly in the eyes as the android leveled the XRS modular between her eyes.

“It’s okay,” Ashe said. “I know this isn’t real.”

Kristanna searched the girl’s eyes. “What if you’re wrong?”

Ashe beamed confidently. “What if I’m not?”

Kristanna smiled and chortled, a thing of incomprehensible emotion.

Sage, farther off but still close enough to see the two figures standing in the middle of the empty street, happened to look over her shoulder just as Kristanna pulled the trigger, and a shadow of sprayed skull and brain matter blew from the back of Ashe’s head as the girl slumped lifelessly to the ground.

“NO!” the ice mistress screamed in spite of herself. Reflexively, she struggled against Sophia’s gentle grip, which only caused the healer to tighten her hold on the doctor

“It’s too late,” Sophia said, fighting back the own sadness and regret in her voice. “You can’t do anything about it. Keep moving forward, and stay alive.”

Stay alive. The mantra of the tournament.

Suddenly, Sophia staggered over, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Sage caught her as she was about to fall, grunting against holding up even her miniscule amount of weight. The priestess placed a hand to her forehead, groaning as her eyelids groggily fluttered to stay open. It was as if she’d been overcome by a sudden wave of fatigue.

“A-are you okay?” the doctor stuttered worriedly.

“I don’t know…” Sophia moaned. Her fingers trailed along her face, and as her hand was about to fall to her side, she noticed something wrong. Her eyes widened as she splayed out her palm, observing it from one side of the other. The flesh faded in and out of transparency. “…I don’t think so,” she amended dazedly. A lump formed in her throat. “No,” the girl sobbed brokenly, knowing it could only mean one thing. “No.”

Pierre and Vale Dura halted, flanking the pair, and Hollywood noticed by the lack of footsteps that their little caravan ceased its movement. He stared in wonderment at Sophia, lifting his sunglasses to squint his scrutinizing eyes at her hand.

“That’s weird,” he commented off-handedly.

Caracol set Alexander down, feeling no need to carry him any longer. The boy dropped to the ground, barely holding himself within the realm of consciousness as he gasped for air. “Your time in this world is over,” the namek grunted in his deep bass.

“No!” Sophia immediately protested, glaring at the giant green man with accusing eyes. “I have until the end of this tournament. There are three people left, and until they’re killed or I’m killed, I still have time.”

“No more time,” the namek shook his massive head. “Deal with the dead only good for so long.”

Sage couldn’t restrain the priestess as she wrenched herself from the doctor’s grip, launching herself at Caracol. With the force of a child in the throes of a tantrum, she beat her fists wildly against the namekian’s torso.

“I can’t go back! I won’t go back!” Sophia raged. She had spent the majority of her time comforting others in the face of her own fears, her own despair, and it felt hollow and empty that no one could offer the same console and solace. The namek just stood there, a mountain against the howling wind.

“Well, we were instructed to bring three, but I guess we’re left with two,” Hollywood observed nonchalantly. “Hey, dummy!” The stuntman gestured over to Vale and signaled towards Alex. “Pick him up and let’s go!”

The saiyan grunted angrily, but obliged as he scooped up the street entertainer. Pierre hadn’t moved from Sage’s side, although he made no effort to force her forward.

“Do I have to carry you over my shoulder, little missy?” Ray Norris asked. He motioned for her to move along as well.

Instead, Sage walked over to Sophia and hugged her from behind, and the priestess collapsed against the namek. Caracol stood solidly, supporting both of their weight as they awkwardly leaned against his sturdy frame. Sophia cried, and Sage waited until the sobs died down before releasing the girl. The doctor smiled, trying to mimic the smile that Sophia would give to cheer up somebody else.

“You’re breakin’ my heart, ladies,” Hollywood said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes. He gripped Sage’s arm firmly and dragged her away, Pierre in tow. “You comin’, Caracol?”

“No, I stay,” the namek rumbled. Sophia, no longer having the strength to hold herself up, dropped slowly to the concrete. The namek picked her up as if she were a child and walked over to the side of a building, where he leaned her up against it. He squatted down beside her and simply waited for the inevitable.

Sophia kept her eyes open for as long as she could, wanting to see the world of the living as she died again. Her thoughts drifted everywhere and nowhere, a mishmash of painful emotions and unfulfilled desires. She thought of Kaden, of course, wishing he could be here in her final moments. As she had done for Tempo, though, a boy she barely knew, someone had stayed with her, so she wouldn’t die alone. Ironically, it was a creature that had been paid to kill her, and here he was granting her the mercy of comfort. He said nothing, not knowing what to say, and the moment did not require words anyway. Her breathing came slower, softer. Caracol placed a firm hand on her shoulder, and she gradually rolled her head to look at him. He nodded once, the face of a warrior watching a comrade fall in battle.

It’s time to go back, Sophia… a voice whispered.

“But I don’t want to go back,” she whispered, looking towards the sky. It had become so bright all of a sudden…so bright…

Sophia…it’s time to go back…

Sophia could keep her eyes open no longer. Her own anthem of the angels was singing its fateful chorus. As they closed, she exhaled her final breath, and the priestess moved no more.