Chapter Eleven: Session with Insanity, Advent of the Avengers Requiem!

Zach's lucidity had been in-and-out over the past few hours, but little of it was due to the Los Midas Police's containment drugs—the majority of those had worn off long ago. Most of what had caused his mind to be not-all-there were the psychotic 'treatments' that were routine in Rycroft Asylum. He couldn't clearly remember any of them; all he could really recall was pain.

Even the worst beatdowns he had ever been through had been nothing, compared to Rycroft. He hadn't thought it was possible to burn through adrenaline, but it seemed he had finally hit that breaking point; he'd blacked out, not really knowing if he was conscious or unconscious, and unable to focus on reality or the pain after that.

He thought he'd had a nightmare; had heard something about a demonstration, and them wheeling Jessica out. He thought he had shouted to take him instead, but in all honesty, he wasn't sure; the whole thing felt like he was on some bad juice.

Slowly, however, he had begun to realize that it wasn't a dream or hallucination; not under the influence of pain or drugs, his senses slowly returned to him. By the time he became aware enough to sense what was happening was real, he realized he was moving somewhere warmer —hotter— than the cell, somewhere that felt like being under one of those lamps they had for the heating bins at fast-food restaurants.

Even under his mask, he could see light seeping in. The last bit of doubt was removed when he finally felt fingers reaching behind him, switching off something electronic, and his helmet was taken off. Blinding white light, the source of the heat and brighter than any interrogation room the police had ever thrown him in, smacked his eyes; he had seen nothing but darkness and dimness for so long that he was blinded momentarily.

When he could see, there was a tall, lanky man before him. This man's face was bearded, a mixture of black and gray hairs that stuck out a bit on the sides, and his eyes were totally concealed behind shaded glasses that reflected the bright light like mirrors; Zach could see his own miserable face in the lenses, looking back at himself as he came out of it. Because of all of this, it was almost a stretch to think he was looking at a man at all —rather more like an odd creature of some sort— but even if they weren't in a doctor's coat —or, more accurately, a surgeon's scrubs— he would have recognized this being as an aggressor by now.

Even with the glasses on, he could almost feel the surgeon's stare as he was sized up like fresh meat.

Abruptly, more lights switched on, blinding Zach yet again. He supposed the first set of lights was never that bright to begin with; that his vision had just grown so used to darkness. As he forced them open again to readjust and look around, he saw in the reflection of the glasses that he was still strapped to a table …obviously… although this one seemed to be mounted in the center of a room; some sort of open, circular space.

Based on what he vaguely recalled from before, he guessed this was the theater; the "operating" theater, to be exact, with room for all of the viewers to watch a procedure.

Guards lined all the entrances and exits, and the rows of chairs were filled with onlookers—maybe not every last row, but there were still a lot of people. All of them looked to be local staff members; not just doctors, but security officers and aides as well. Some looked to be there because of some unwanted external compulsion; others stared as ravenously as the surgeon.

Zach got just enough time for his to eyes adjust, look past the overhead lights, and see that there were in fact windows around the entire circular room. They didn't do much to improve the darkness, what with how gray the skies outside were, but he forgot about this as he saw the grinning scarecrow of a man turn to his audience, cross his arms behind him, clear his throat, and begin lecturing the crowd.

"Rycroft Asylum…interns, as the warden and chief doctor of this institution, I welcome you. I am pleased so many young men and women have decided to work for such a cause. While I would say that the extent of my reputation as being one of the best doctors in the entire Aurino Republic is a tall tale, I would also say that my skills are not just a myth—I've spent the majority of my life at Rycroft, perfecting my work, to treat the segments of our population that cannot divorce themselves of their, shall we say, 'detrimental tendencies'. I hope all of you doctors-to-be have such passion to become pioneers yourselves in the world of mental health."

The tone was calm, even, and what one might expect from any college instructor, and, considering what little Zach could recall of what he had been through, it made him want to throw up. At this point, the tall man turned and gestured to him.

"We have here a new patient to Rycroft who arrived just last evening, a fresh dog right out of the slums. He is a member of the Hammer Wolves gang, and he and his cohorts attacked guards in last night's Electro Ball match.

"He has an addiction to violence and cravings for chaos, like most of his maverick ilk, so I am setting out to cure him of these tendencies, which are typical for most juvenile delinquents of his demographic—namely, a strong addiction to ultra-violence and crime, and a propensity for lawlessness. An aversion to law and order, if you will, and a desire for anarchy; chaos for the sake of chaos."

Zach glared at Salinger as best he could. "Man, you got it all wrong! We—"

The gang member was forced to cut himself off with a gagging noise as he felt a baton strike him in the gut—the way he was strapped down, he couldn't see to his immediate right or left, and had thus failed to see there were guards there as well. "Shut your mouth, before I make sure you can't open it again." The guard snorted.

In spite of the surgeon's seemingly calm and intellectual demeanor, as Zach coughed harshly from the blow, he could hear the man give just the smallest laugh at seeing this little bit of human misery. "…Thank you, officer, but I believe I can handle my own patients' interruptions by now, yes?"

The man turned to the audience again. "Now, I hope those of you who are interns in the audience can see the defense mechanism displayed by this patient, much like that of previous ones. The heart of the reason law and order fails upon these individuals is this prevailing notion of being an exception to the norms that have been established by sociology and psychology. It takes many forms…."

He turned and began to walk back up to Zach.

"Some say their victim 'had it coming'; some plead civil disobedience; some say oppression on their race or social class has justified their violence…and, of course, the most popular reason of all: disrespect. As if the respect of common street trash is something that's so valuable as to kill over!"

He had reached Zach at this point, and abruptly his skeletal hand snapped out with surprising violence and force, seizing the gang member by the chin in a vise-like grip. Zach's eyes widened a bit, realizing the man was just doing it to inflict a bit more pain, but the man ignored him and turned back to the audience.

"Yet, at the heart of it all, there is this 'exception' complex: this perpetual delusion that a social deviant, thug, or hoodlum is somehow more than a social deviant, thug, or hoodlum.

The speaker turned to Zach. "But do you want to know something, dog? You're not special; you're as nauseating as the rest of the gutter trash. You think your group has some noble purpose, and that that makes your actions righteous?

"Gangs may give many reasons for their actions, but the reality is that, with the expectation of a few odd scenarios, they are all just about dogs forming a pack, trying to give purpose to your kind's droll little lives."

He turned back to his audience. "Tell me, why is it that gangs are nearly always composed of the poor? It would be because it's an act of desperation, eh? Now, you can say it's to give you a shared unity, and that may be true, but it's still a delusion to trick the group into thinking they can amount to more than they actually are. Such 'gangs' are composed of furious dogs who desperately want what they can't have.

"This misplaced notion is the root cause of all street violence, and, in more advanced forms, terrorism and anarchy. This idea that, somehow, by gaining power and strength through their numbers, they are entitled to superiority and status.

"How little they differ from the common barbarians and bands of marauders—or, even more appropriate, how little they differ from the chimpanzees that beat other males of their species to death to accumulate a harem. It's rather primitive—indicative of how his mind is practically subhuman.

"For proof of how little distance their self-proclaimed 'nobility' goes, you need only look at what they do with what little power they accumulate: drugs, alcohol, and whores.

Once more, he turned back to Zach. "You may be able to delude yourself into thinking you have prestige, but even the most notorious and cunning gangster isn't noble; he's just a lucky parasite. Some may be able to hold on to power for a while, due to sheer brutality and cunning, but, before long, the true nature of their heart betrays them, and they fall to pieces, one way or another.

"Of course, when they fall, others may suffer as a result, and that is why our city —no, our nation, if not our entire world— is plagued by such strife: you dogs just can't accept the fact that you're trash, and lash out at those who put you in your place!

"Well, for you, young man, your delusions end here."

Zach, whose head was still clearing, bitterly retorted, "And what do you want us to do instead!? Just let nutbags like you do whatever you want with us?"

The hand was removed, and the doctor turned back to the audience. "Earlier in my career, I tried talking things out with these individuals," he continued, mostly addressing the audience, though Zach could tell it was also partially directed to him. "All I got for my time and effort was a great amount of self-absorbed drivel. Excuses; always excuses—it was a lost cause to try and show someone delusional the errors of their ways.

"So, on to a demonstration of a proper, direct, and efficient cure for such social deviance: what you all know by now I term 'Psycho Surgery'. Nurse Fran?"

There was the sound of footsteps, and Zach saw a woman in a nurse's outfit, one of the more uncomfortable people in the room, warily come forward and hold out no form of sterile equipment, or tray of such items, but what looked rather like a stainless steel briefcase.

After setting it down and opening it up, the surgeon reached inside; he soon pulled out a syringe filled with red liquid. Zach was no doctor, but he could tell the needle on this one was a lot thicker than normal.

Nevertheless, he tried to stay bold. "You think you're going to psych me out with a few shots?"

The doctor let out a short laugh in response, again breaking his professional appearance for a moment, before speaking to the audience again. "Now, then, for those of you new to this procedure, it comes in two 'doses', so to speak. This first injection, which will be directly through the skull, into the cerebrum, will purge the mind of defects. If the patient survives with mind intact, the second phase of the process involves serums into bone marrows and deep tissues.

"If the patient survives that second half of this psyche restructuring treatment, he will evolve into a more productive member of society; if not, society still benefits, as the patient will have been euthanized, and the patient himself, in a manner of speaking, will still be better off than he is now. Now, obviously, the best place for injection will be adjacent to the eyeball, where the bone is weak…"

The young man's boldness evaporated; suddenly his table gave a light rattle as he summoned strength he thought had been drained out of him by now to struggle to snap free, and all the while he spat out every obscenity possible at the twisted man. As for the surgeon, he merely held up the needle and marveled at it, seemingly using it as an excuse to enjoy the struggling….

One of the people on the floor itself, who looked like another doctor, suddenly cleared his throat, getting the tall man's attention; he, too, seemed a bit hesitant. He stepped forward and spoke more quietly; loud enough for Zach to hear, but not for those observing. "Um…Doctor Salinger, I know that this experiment was prepared very carefully, but I want to remind you that only one patient has survived such a rapid infusion."

Salinger scoffed. "Do you think I'd waste my time with this if it couldn't work, Holden?" He spoke with a degree of smugness, but also with a hint of insulted pride. "The last few sessions were purely for observing outcomes; this time I intend to get the desired effect.

"Professor Fraction requested more data on how brainwaves can be enhanced, and if we fall behind our projected timetable, many of our clients, including the Ibis Corps, will start to doubt our abilities." His voice grew a bit sharper. "Are you willing to risk such an outcome, Holden?"

The younger man paled a bit. "No, Doctor Salinger. I'm sorry; I didn't think of that."

"Of course you didn't," Salinger said, no small amount of anger in his tone. "Now go and take notes, like I pay you to do."

The other doctor swallowed, but also retreated at once. As for Salinger, he turned fully to Zach, holding up the needle again and starting to approach.

"I advise the patient to stay still, or this will be potentially deadly instead of merely curing his defective nature…."

He advanced one more step, but no farther, for at that moment a loud bang was heard —a sound of metal smacking into metal— echoing sharply through the entire room. Immediately, he and everyone else in the theater turned to see the upper western-side doors into the chamber finish snapping off of their hinges and fall to the ground with an even louder clatter.

Walking in past them was a figure in black and silver armor, the room's shadows casting over him and highlighting his glowing red eyes.

"I think he wants a second opinion."

Most of the people were stunned; none of them had any idea what this was or how to react, and merely sat there. Zach was among them, blinking once and turning his head as best he could. Even the guards, who had been posted in case there was an intruder, stood still and gaped a bit at the new arrival. Eventually, however, the silence was broken.

"No way—that freak followed me here!?"

A few heads turned and looked to see one of the people in the audience rapidly getting up and tensing up. Sergeant Booker's new metallic prosthesis opened and closed, as if he was getting a touch of phantom limb pain just seeing the new arrival. However, it seemed to be enough to at least alert the other men present; soon, the guards were whipping out their weapons all over the room and training them on him.

As for Salinger, he reached up and rubbed his beard a bit, considerably calmer than Booker and the men now taking aim. "Oh, my…this must be that 'phantasmal vigilante' you were rambling about when you came in, leaving that bloody mess everywhere…" he remarked, looking at the armored man. His pupils narrowed. "Holden, I assume that alarms were tripped by this deranged man on his way in. Why was I not informed there was a break-in?" His hand rubbing his beard turned into a clenched fist as he said this.

Holden swallowed and took a step back. "You…you told me not to let anything disturb you while you were in the middle of ex—"

"And you didn't have the brains to think there would be exceptions, you damned idiot!?"

The voice of Salinger had suddenly turned so violent it practically twisted; veins bulged from his neck, and his skeletal form seemed to curl as his tone turned into a practical hiss…yet it lasted only a moment before he eased again, becoming once more a semblance of a "human". It was still enough to make Holden retreat further.

"No matter—all medical procedures run the risk of complications." He focused on the new arrival again. "Do you desire treatment, sir? With your getup, you clearly have issues you need resolved…."

Requiem answered by reaching behind himself and drawing a black-bandaged sword. This caused the guards on him to tense up, their weapons giving clicks as they clenched the handles tighter, but no one fired yet.

"Doctor Abe Salinger…you are a depraved man who has abused his power and authority to inflict misery on the innocent for your own sadistic joy. I am here to free that man…" His blade raised up and pointed at the doctor. "…and then I am going to bring you to justice."

Salinger merely snickered, lowering his needle and folding his arms in front of him. "Is that so? By whose authority, and whose justice? Yours? There's no badge on that armor."

The sword shifted. "I may not have a badge, but I am an agent of justice nonetheless. I am the phantom of darkness; I am the rage of the forsaken innocent. I am Requiem…and I sentence sinners to death. You have failed this city, and now you must answer for that failure!"

The red lenses flicked about to individuals in the audience. Even the guards who the gaze went over tensed and swallowed, but those who were merely watching cringed in fear. He may have only been one armored man with over a dozen gun sights on him, but the aura he conveyed was one of terror and power.

"For those of you who don't wish to share his fate, I suggest you leave now, and never return; this establishment is going to be shut down permanently very soon. I'm not guaranteeing you won't die with it if you stay."

There was a moment of hesitation among the more squeamish and uncertain individuals within the area, most of them making up the bulk of the interns. However, between the appearance of the man, the power he conveyed, and the voice in which he spoke…it caused the people to consider that choice. One finally got bold enough to rise and run for it, and that set off a storm of others. Clambering over seats, through aisles, and over one another, they all burst for the doors and exited, none of them guarded anymore by the men with guns.

Salinger remained calm as he stepped forward a bit more. "My…a divinity complex, combined with delusions of grandeur. I would love to dive right into such a twisted brain, but if you insist on threatening me and making a scene of blatant disrespect, you'll be dead before I have the chance."

He raised a hand and waved. "Oh well…."

Two of the guards in the room were flanking the door Requiem had burst through, and were now positioned behind him; they quickly advanced, one trying to tackle him, and the other just firing his plasma pistol.

The shot, however, was halted harmlessly by the back of Requiem's helmet as he quickly snapped around and backhanded the charging one. The impact smacked the guard forward, and made them stagger past the warrior, who followed with a kick from his heavy, armored boot to knock them down a stairway leading into the rows of seats. They ended up smashing their head against one of the support rails and going limp. Another shot came from the plasma pistol, as useless as the first one, but by then Requiem had borne enough, and his sword ignited into a blazing aura briefly.

He snapped around and swung out at the third shot, intercepting it and diverting it back to the guard's knee; as the man cried out and collapsed, another slice cleaved the weapon in two on its way down.

The other guards quickly opened fire from throughout the chamber, for all the good their low-caliber energy weaponry did against the fully armored man. He didn't even shift his weight as he swung the aura-wrapped blade around and began to deflect shots back one by one.

More cries rang out as those guards started to collapse. A few more were bold enough to drop their weapons and advance on him, but they were summarily struck down.

Watching all of this, Booker grew progressively more nervous. His look turned from anxiety to clear fear, and he darted his eyes around the chamber, noticing that Requiem was slowly advancing as he kept fighting. Booker finally turned and bolted for it, down the aisle, up the stairs, and through the nearest doorway.

Salinger frowned idly as a guard was hit so hard he fell into the pit at the doctor's feet; one of his hands clenched, its knuckles cracking as he turned and stored his syringe in his belt. He began to walk for the ground level exits.

He didn't get far; to the sounds of two guards being punched simultaneously, Requiem hastened his advance by leaping out from the theater aisles altogether, sailing through the air, and slamming down hard enough to crack the tiles in Salinger's path.

The surgeon immediately froze, and the guards who were still standing hesitated: even if they thought shooting at him further would harm him, by now the beating they were getting had ruined most of their resolve—especially after that last move. A few more began to slink backward to flee….

"So, you know how to fight," Salinger stated idly. "I see you're not just another stray dog like those that normally end up in here. Still, you're a maverick, and I don't tolerate mavericks; certainly not those who interfere with my research."

"And I don't tolerate corrupt slime who mock justice for their own benefit," Requiem coldly answered as he rose to full height.

Violence flashed in Salinger's eyes. "As if a mongrel could understand me!" His voice nearly degenerated into a hiss again, but he paused, taking a second to compose himself. He continued in a more measured tone, "I work for justice more than a vigilante like you ever could. I don't try to rationalize or reason with the evil of society; I eliminate it at its source, and I don't let misplaced ethics stop me from advancing science, trying to turn criminals into functional members of civilization.

"I work only on people who the world doesn't even want to acknowledge exist, and wouldn't care if were gone; the dregs of the Aurino Republic. My research is trying to purge humanity of unwanted traits, and to pioneer the evolution of human psyche itself."

"All I see you and your friends doing is treating human lives as disposable lab rats," Requiem sneered in a wrathful voice. "You're the last man I would let lecture me on what traits humanity needs 'purged'."

"And a weak-willed boy in a demon's costume is so much more qualified!" Salinger retorted. "You're the same as all the others; like any other stupid brute, you put on a mask and yell and shout to get your way. Do you think you look intimidating by dressing up in a demonic outfit? That may work on weaker minds, but I just see a weak-willed boy who is desperately trying to hide his weakness!"

Richard quickly retorted, "You act like you know what I am, but you don't have the slightest clue about what I am or what I can do. When I'm done with you, then we'll see who is weak!"

Salinger formed a toothy grin before responding snidely, "We already have, and it would be you."

The doctor didn't look up, but his being more 'long-winded' had a purpose to it: while they had been talking, the remaining guards who were still brave enough moved in around to the sides, surrounded the armored man from above, and charged their firearms fully, to try to vaporize Richard.

None of them ever got a chance. A wild yell roared down the upper eastern-side door to the chamber, distracting the security officials again, before something —or someone— burst right through it like a missile, annihilating the doors and slamming into the nearest officer so heavily that his body was launched across the room and smashed into the wall on the opposite side. He was left protruding partway from a crater as a well-built man in a black raven's mask landed, revealing that the attack wasn't a rocket, but a massive piston-shaped arm, which was quickly morphing into a metal shield.

The hesitation from the other officers cost them as several more individuals in masks burst into the room, guns out, and opened fire, dropping a good number of them from behind before they thought to aim at the new targets.

As for the man in the lead, he didn't stop smacking down personnel, doing so as easily as Requiem had, with his metal Shield Arm. Most of the guards focused on him, but that only left them open to the rest of his group. The confidence and control Salinger had had just a moment ago quickly began to fade; Requiem kept his gaze on the tall man.

The patient on the table looked to the new arrivals in amazement. "Dan? Is that you!? Oh, thank god! I thought I was still tripping!"

"Heh—you're almost insulting me, Zach!" the one in the lead answered as he pounded the last guard down like a hammer might a nail. "Y'think I'd leave you hanging? We already got Jessica; that just leaves busting you out, and then busting this guy's face in, before we call it a day!"

The shock had disappeared from Salinger's face. While his face managed to remain smooth and sane enough, his eyes, behind the reflective lenses, were burning with rapidly growing rage. "You think it's so easy, do you?" he mused aloud as he looked up and about, seeing the rest of his security staff disabled and the group now rapidly advancing down the aisles to him. "You're all more foolish than I thought. I assure you, none of you will ever know a moment's peace once you're in the cells you've bought!"

Dan snorted and leapt over the side rail around the observation area, landing on the floor as well. "Your goons are in pieces, and you've got nothing standing in between my fist and your face, Doc. Sure you're not the delusional one here?"

Salinger didn't move or make a sound, but as he stepped forward, metallic clinking rang out. Dan's face turned to confusion as he looked to it, along with the others, and they saw one of the tiles on the floor suddenly slide aside, and something long and metallic extend from it. It was about the diameter of a human arm, and had a metallic pincer on the end for grasping, but the general form was that of a long, metal tentacle, not an arm.

It quickly lengthened, but only long enough to coil up before lashing out and smashing into Dan's face at an upwards angle, hitting him with enough force to knock him to the ground. Requiem quickly spun back to Salinger, who immediately backpedalled, revealing another panel waiting to slide open.

It, in turn, quickly opened up, and a second metal tentacle erupted from below, lashing out for Requiem. He snapped his head to one side, letting the blow go wide, but he immediately had to move back and away from the doctor as it snapped at him again.

He barely had time to regain his footing before he had to dodge again, for another panel erupted, a third tentacle lashing out at his side. Soon, both he and the rest of those with him turned around in alarm as panels sprung out and revealed tentacles all over the room, both in the gallery and the main stage area.

Salinger's grin began to come back, as wild as before, and his tone became more uneven. "You didn't think someone like me was so stupid as to work on deranged people in demonstrations without having proper defensive measures installed, did you?"

Dan himself grunted, and raised his normal arm to rub his chin. "I'm about to demonstrate how to crack your teeth together, butthead…."

Suddenly, he snapped off the ground and into a forward somersault. The arm that had struck him tried diving for him with claws outstretched, but it merely hit the floor, and lodged there momentarily, allowing him to roll past it, spring up, and leap out at Salinger.

The doctor actually took a step backward in sudden alarm, but there was no need; two of the security arms lashed out and seized his feet. He was halted in mid-lunge and swung down, banging his head on the tiled floor.

Once recovered, the face of Salinger quickly turned into rage. His teeth showed more, but his grin wasn't a happy one as he reached into a pocket with his free hand and whipped out a scalpel the size of a combat knife.

"I'll shut up your barking, you insolent mongrel…."

At once, he darted right at Dan, aiming the weapon for a slash at the man's neck. Requiem spotted this, but was halted momentarily, his path barred by more thrashing metal tentacles. He hesitated, trying to find an opening, and finally seized one. Abruptly, he crouched and leapt into a diving jump, shooting past three tentacles in a brief opening, and managing to land on the other side; he then swiftly snapped up and darted to intercept Salinger, swinging up his sword for a slashing blow.

Unfortunately, the doctor saw him coming, and quickly swung his own blade out to catch it. In spite of the sparks that resulted, both blades held, and the sword was, seemingly to Requiem's surprise, actually parried. Nevertheless, the doctor gave a mild cry of pain from the twisted way he'd deflected it as he backpedaled.

Salinger used his free hand to wipe some sweat from his brow as his maddened glare turned to the armored man. "Yes; you're the biggest threat. I should focus on neutralizing you first…."

Requiem shifted his blade to both hands and got more proper footing. He didn't try to dart in again; by now he realized that, far from having the hard part over with, Salinger actually had some fighting talent and abilities of his own, if he had managed to deflect a slash from Requiem's sword like that. Now Richard prepared himself for a harder struggle.

The two sides held for a moment before it was broken as yet another panel opened adjacent to Requiem and a metal tentacle came out, trying to strike him from behind at an angle. The doctor never flinched, again using himself as a distraction. However, the armored man didn't go for it this time; he immediately took off, running to the left to evade the tentacle, but the moment it struck, he didn't try to counter or dodge, but took off, leaping once again from his position and to the side, for the nearest wall.

He made contact a moment later as the tentacle hit nothing, and quickly ricocheted off, launching himself back at Salinger at an angle. He didn't come down directly on his opponent, but instead touched down a short distance from Salinger and instantly shot in from the side, blade aimed outward.

The doctor responded with something he didn't expect, however: his right hand extended, and he coldly said, "Kneel, dog. Gravity Surge!"

At once, the armored man ground to a halt as he realized what was happening, but it was too late to stop. The unusual lenses on Dr. Salinger's face abruptly glowed, revealing them to be his wand, before groans echoed and boomed through the area, like a massive weight had suddenly slammed down upon the roof.

Some invisible force abruptly warped and fractured the ground beneath Requiem, as if the air itself had gained a thousand pounds. The tile cracked and then bent inward, and the armored man himself was immediately pinned where he stood, his arms dropping to his sides; a moment later, the force ripped him off his feet altogether and slammed him flat to the ground, cracking it further. The spell was not an actual blow unless you could cast an opponent into something; all it did was suddenly and dramatically increase gravity's effect on the target, to smash it —or them— into things, or change their trajectory midair.

From the upper floor, one of the gang members had just managed to find solid purchase on ground out of the range of any tentacles, when he looked down and saw what had just happened.

"Hell; that psychotic quack can use magic, too!?"

While two of the gang members were still trying to avoid being grabbed by the tentacles, the others had found enough space to stand their ground, and they joined with the first to raise their weapons at the thin man still on the lower floor. Snapping to them, Salinger tightened his free hand again as his lenses flared once more; he grasped his free hand tightly and muttered, "Your delusions end here, mutts—time for your sessions! Terror Bog!"

A sphere formed in mid-air; unlike the misty-gray ones that had been used by Requiem, this one was acid-green. Just seeing it immediately made the trapped leader react in fear, and those about to shoot hesitate. All the gangsters were able to do was to swing to one side to avoid the impact, but as it struck the seat behind them it instantly exploded into a thick, green, opaque mist over the entire area; the section, as well as the two individuals within it, vanished.

"Tony! Eloy!" Dan shouted in horror.

It seemed that the fears were ill-founded; there were some coughing sounds, and then Tony came out of the mist, waving his hand at it to clear it from his face. The other quickly did the same, and the mist itself rapidly began to shift, moving like a rolling fog, away from them.

"It's cool, man!" Tony shouted back down. "It must've been a dud! I've smelled…worse…than…."

The man trailed off. He blinked a few times.

"What? What is…?"

He shook his head and blinked again, but he only seemed to get more disorientated, like he was suddenly drunk or dazed; Eloy acted the same way.

"What…? The hell…? What is…?"

He stared a bit longer, and suddenly his eyes focused on something invisible to everyone else. He blinked more slowly, and his eyes widened. "What're…? Oh, god…. What is…What is that thing?" His voice was beginning to rise. "What the hell is that thing!? What the—there's more! Oh, god! GAH!"

Suddenly, he snapped up his gun and began to fire wildly at the room, shooting at things only he could see. He wasn't alone; Eloy also began to fire wildly. One of the shots nearly hit Dan's hand, and he winced for a moment before shouting back, "Tony! Eloy! What the hell's gotten into you?!"

Requiem himself peeled his head off the ground, still a bit sore from the last spell, it seemed, but no longer pinned. As he got his hands underneath him, he looked about, seeing the ones who hadn't been struck by the mist staring in the same confusion, and one of them cursing as he was nearly shot.

"It's a hallucination spell! Stay away from it!" he shouted back. His own wrist lit up, and he spoke arcane words of his own before snapping his hand up. At once, a powerful gust of wind, strong enough to whip up some of the medical equipment and push back the tentacles, shot out from him and towards the rolling mist. At once, it was ripped away and blasted up against the windows.

A sound of metal clinking came from nearby, and the man turned to it, seeing a tentacle moving to try and stop him. Quickly, he retracted his hand and swung back, letting the tentacle hit nothing and forcing himself back to his feet. Once standing, he quickly readied his sword and looked back to Salinger.

"What a pity," he said with a half grin as he adjusted his glasses. "I was hoping to see what sort of phobias an individual like you might have. Still, there's more where that came from…."

Beneath the armor, Richard was feeling more than a little tense: he hadn't been expecting another mage, let alone one who apparently had the capability to devise spells of his own. The two gang members were seeing their worst fears, and acting accordingly; as one of the stray shots hit the back of his leg —fortunately in an armored spot— he realized taking this guy out with sheer numbers might not be the best move.

With that in mind, he gave the doctor one last look before he wrapped his sword in the Aura Edge once again. Rather than going for the doctor, he snapped around and sliced through the nearest arm headed for him. It wasn't hard; while the scalpel may have been durable, the metal composing the arms was far less so, and shredded easily. He quickly advanced on Dan and sliced twice, removing his restraints and dropping him to the ground. Dan quickly started to scramble back to his feet.

Richard immediately turned back to Salinger, putting himself in between the two. "Get your friend loose, get ahold of your comrades, and get out of here."

At once, Dan snapped to him. "What?"

"He's not just some psychopath, or even a skilled surgeon; he's a mage, and a skilled one. The rules have changed—the longer you stay here, the more likely you'll all be going mad from that toxin he just used."

The gang leader sneered. "And just what the hell are you going to do, then? You aren't taking this guy out by yourself; I want a piece of this bastard!"

"This man knows how to exploit emotions, so you're no good right now. He's counting on you coming at him in anger!" Richard retorted. "My armor protects me from that gas, so he can't use me, but you'll just be a distraction."

"Damn it, don't talk to me as if I was a little—"

"Did you come here to smash Salinger's face in, or to save your friends?"

Yet again, Dan found himself caught with nothing to say. Gritting his teeth and letting out a curse, he snapped around and began to run towards Zach. One tentacle tried to stop him, but he backhanded it out of the way so sharply that it snapped off its base.

Richard didn't waste any more time; he focused his attention fully on Salinger and renewed his assault. The Aura Edge around Auro Solais flared, igniting his weapon with an even more brilliant blue light. Salinger had defended himself once with the big scalpel; Requiem planned to have his next blow eliminate it. However, he soon got an additional surprise: Salinger put both hands on his own blade, his lenses burned, and he chanted again, repeating the exact same spell-words Richard had used. Soon, a green aura had enveloped his weapon, similar in hue to that of the sphere he had just used.

More than that, the scalpel itself changed…perhaps not as sharply or amazingly as Orion's or Steiner's weapons, but it did lengthen and enlarge until it was as big as its wielder's arm. Perhaps only a shortsword to Salinger, but given his height it was as large as Richard's own weapon. Furthermore, rather than waiting for Richard to come at him, he instantly dove straight at him with surprising speed, aiming right for his head.

The move was so sudden that the prince had no time to parry; he instead twisted his body out of the way as fast as he could. Even so, it was still a little slow; the scalpel raked his arm, and, to his surprise, sliced through the metal and tagged the flesh beneath. It was only a little cut, and there was a lot of resistance, but it still drew blood: it seemed Greymont's protection had limits.

He heard it in his head, too.

Ow! That really hurt!

Richard grimaced beneath the faceplate: with his armor being a polymorphic creature, he had thought that, even if something could cut Greymont, it wouldn't hurt him. It seemed he was wrong; that made everything even more serious than before….

"Impressive Aura Edge spell. You're a bit more than just a doctor."

The grin widened. "Well, I was a field medic in the last war. I like to keep my skills sharp; never know when one of the mad dogs will get too unruly…."

Richard stared a bit longer, then snapped his sword arm out to the side, swinging. It seemed random, but turned out to be a perfectly-timed counter, cleaving the head off of a metal tentacle as it lashed out for him. He had performed the defense so quickly he had his sword back in front of him in a heartbeat.

"You're starting to get more predictable," Requiem commented before diving at him again.

---

As Salinger closed in on Richard, Dan tried to keep himself from going back on his word. A chorus of metallic clashing came out from behind Dan, and it took almost all he had not to frown, much less turn around and glare at it; he wanted a piece of Salinger more than ever now. However, it was true that he came here for his friends and not for the Doc, and if they didn't get out of here because of his fighting, that was a problem.

Luckily, it seemed the tentacles weren't watching Zach.

"You're actually with that guy?" his trapped friend asked as he reached the table.

"Bit of a long story. You'll hear it later—we got to get out of here, pronto." He quickly scanned over the restraining plank, looking up and down it for a few moments, before grunting. "I don't see any way to disconnect this damn stuff, so I'm going to do it the 'easy' way. This is going to be cold for a moment. Ice Knuckle!"

Grabbing his belt buckle again, Dan snapped his arm back. He concentrated and cast a new spell, this one causing the metallic coating to recede and replacing it with so much ice that it appeared to turn into it. As soon as the sharp, crackling noises of freezing were done, he hauled off and punched the base of the table.

With a noise ripping through the air that brought to mind the term flash-freeze, the entire structure was instantly coated with the ice, so intensely cold that it literally began to condense the air. Zach almost instantly began to shiver, but Dan's hand was "normal" now, and he promptly swung it out in a chop that shattered the table entirely. Zach's restraints snapped clean off as he was unceremoniously dumped to the ground in a heap of ice and scrap metal.

"Good ol' Ice Knuckle…" Dan mused, before noticing what had happened. "Um…you all right?"

"That hurt…but, compared to Baldy, it was nothing." Zach coughed as he moaned and struggled to rise.

Dan quickly reached out, grabbed Zach by the arm, and yanked him to his feet. On seeing his friend was still wobbling and groggy, Dan quickly hunched down and helped Zach get onto his back. "Sorry, man, but no time to 'walk it off'. We set off the sirens over ten minutes ago—we'll have to bust our way out as it is."

He looked up briefly at the others, and saw that they were already on it; the rest of the gang had tackled Tony and Eloy, managed to get their guns from them, and were now forcibly dragging them out.

It seemed that the fear-spell they had inhaled also lessened their strength, making them slightly easier to move in spite of their being completely hysterical. That was good enough for Dan; hoisting his friend onto his back, he charged back into the midst of the metal tentacles for the nearest purchase he could use to climb out of the observation area.

---

Richard had just finished parrying several slices from Salinger, each one meant as more of a stab at a vital part. The larger man seemed to fight like the surgeon he called himself, going for critical joints and relying more on precise strikes rather than wild slashes.

As he intercepted a fourth stab and locked the blades in a clash, Salinger looked up and spotted Dan and his group running for it. "It's pointless!" he shouted. "There's no escape from this Asylum—not now that security protocols have been tripped!"

Richard pushed a bit more on his blade. His opponent was strong, but even so, they buckled a bit under it, and turned back to him. Requiem's red eyes burned. "Now I don't have to worry about anyone else getting in the way."

Salinger's teeth were bared as his grin grew more demented. "You also have no one left to help you, young man," he hissed, his voice again warping into a more twisted tone, before he snapped back and then lunged again, this time for Requiem's neck.

Richard stood his ground—he knew the doctor wouldn't go for such an obvious move; there was something else coming. Sure enough, out of the corner of his vision, he saw movement to the tune of metallic slinking: Salinger was trying to catch him with a pincer…either get him directly, or drive him to another tentacle. However, Requiem wouldn't fall for it this time: shifting his blade to one hand, he snapped out his other and chanted the Metal Morph spell. With a twist and a snap, his arm reshaped, not into a straight blade as usual, but a curved one. Immediately, he snapped both arms out without shifting his weight, first intercepting the scalpel with Auro Solais, then slicing the attacking tentacle in two.

The doctor again registered surprise, clearly not ready for this, and the young man seized the opportunity this time. Quickly shifting his blade down, he swung his opponent's scalpel down and to the side, leaving him open, and then quickly snapped the blade upward. Salinger tried to retreat, but it was no good—the aura-enhanced sword swung up, made contact with his wrist, and promptly lopped his hand, upper forearm, and scalpel clean off.

Richard would have expected the doctor to be bellowing in pain, but, much to his surprise, he only gave a repressed grunt as his free hand reached out and snapped over the now-bleeding stump.

Seeing him stunned and unprotected, this would have been the perfect moment to end the fight…but the young man hesitated, not able to avoid noticing how easily Salinger was taking all of this. He snapped out of it a moment later, and made a dive, but it cost him this time. Before he could reach Salinger, the lenses blazed again, and the doctor's bloody hand left the stump and aimed at him to unleash another Gravity Surge spell. He struck Richard with the spell, but he didn't aim its dragging force to send the target towards the floor this time; he aimed towards a wall. Giving a cry of his own, Richard was yanked back by the sudden force, again giving Salinger an opening.

Requiem's metal boots raked the ground as he struggled to anchor himself against the force, but it was irresistible for a good ten feet before he finally was able to dig in, stopping himself. Unfortunately, it had once again put some distance between him and the doctor. As he snapped back to his feet, however, he figured it was only a last, desperate act; he had already disarmed him….

Richard soon saw the delay had an additional purpose. Immediately, Salinger had dashed to where his own bloody, severed limb was, snatched it off the ground, and swung it around and slapped the arm back over the stump, murmuring, "…less work, this way…."

His lenses flared again as he chanted once more, far more intensely this time, momentarily surrounding himself in an aura and making sweat appear on his brow this time. He still managed to grin through it as he cried out, "Flesh Regeneration!"

As a result, his arm-stump glowed white briefly, particularly around the area of the wound, before the sinews and muscles snapped out like writhing worms. Richard actually halted at the grotesquery of it as the various fibers, tendons, and even the veins and arteries lashed out to the opposite parts of the cut and connected, seeming to anchor themselves in, one by one. Once enough had connected, the severed limb was pulled back onto the stump altogether, and Salinger released it, letting the flesh magically close and heal.

Within moments, to Richard's surprise, the doctor's arm began to flex and move, having been fully reattached.

That one would have given even Uncle Nathan a run for his money….

"Impressive technique—amazing you could perform such a spell through that pain…."

Salinger cracked his knuckles on his restored hand and tsked. "Years of practice—I used my magic to lessen pain signals from my body long ago; it's more of an inconvenience than anything that debilitates me, now," he explained…although his voice now sounded permanently warped, no longer quite holding the tone of evenness or sanity it had before. "Always was talented at white magic, you know. My brother told me it was a gift—said I should use it where it was needed most, and back him up in the army. So I went. I figured I could keep him safe, at least, and I did—saved countless lives, including his."

His mouth twisted downwards as his restored hand clenched.

"Then the war ended. All of the blood and gore…all of the times I patched people back together from fragments…all the times I tried to reconcile those whose minds snapped at the blood and carnage…all of it behind us, and our lives ahead of us. And my brother, great veteran that he was, having repeatedly survived and endured nearly having his head blown off…" His voice twisted further. "…murdered, by a group of petty thieves who didn't respond well to his defiance.

"Killed in cold blood by refuse—by savage monkeys, who spent what little time they weren't drunk or high moaning and babbling about their precious little 'respect'; whining about how their excuse for beating a man's head in or raping a woman was 'they disrespected me'. They're animals; subcreatures; inhuman beasts.

"Things like them don't need to be studied, or have their heads shrunk; it's an insult to even treat them alongside actual human beings, that men have to share a room with those oversized boars. They need to be treated like the dogs they are, by being put down when they prove incurable."

Richard's face beneath the mask made no changes. "Just because you were wronged doesn't give you the right to declare people as worthless or your personal lab-rats. And just because you plaster the name of 'Science' on your work doesn't make you any less of a revenge-seeking psychopath. This isn't about helping society; this is about you venting your sadism because you couldn't torture and kill the ones who killed your brother."

Salinger let out a short, twisted laugh, although his face remained bitter and twisted. "People can't change who they are, once they hit a certain point in their life; once someone's personality finishes forming, that will be their core character for their entire life.

"Oh, some may indeed try to change who they are, or at least how others see them, but it's futile; no matter what, the true nature of a human is shown sooner or later.

"Enough—I'm not going to let my sanity be questioned by someone dressed like a demon! Acidic Geyser!"

Immediately, the doctor knelt down to the ground and chanted again, his lenses flaring and his hand slapping against the floor. In response, Richard took off. He tried to close the distance again before whatever spell this was could get off; while he doubted he could make it, he knew, at the bare minimum, the doctor would try to catch him incoming and force him back.

Sure enough, as he ran, he saw something rupture the floor, seeming to almost peel it away or erode it like hot water on ice, before a stream of hot fluid burst from the ground like a geyser in his path. That was why the young man had come straight forward, however: he planned on Salinger trying to intercept him as he approached like this, and so he was able to quickly shift to one side and evade it. —A good thing, too, as this new spell shot the stream past where he had been a moment earlier and splattered on the remains of the doctor's instrument table. It instantly melted it right down the middle, eating away the parts of it into two separate puddles.

Acid—I don't think even Greymont can deal with that….

He squatted, meaning to lunge for the last distance before he could get off another Gravity Surge…only to realize too late that he was, once again, going where the doctor wanted him. While the other restraints had been slashed or destroyed at this point, there were two that had been retracted until now; at this point, both exploded out, and, making use of Richard's pause, quickly seized his arms.

Before he could summon the power to break them off, he was yanked off the ground, carried back, and slammed against the back wall. The blow would probably have broken a normal man's bones; he was stunned long enough for the arms to quickly grasp his hands, simultaneously keeping him from using his magic to break free and pinning him.

Beneath the mask, Richard gritted his teeth and tried to pull back, but he couldn't hope to break free like this; he couldn't get any leverage. As for Salinger, his face finally turned happy again, as he seemed victorious.

"As skilled as you are, even you can't do much with your arms bound," he hissed, his look turning demented once again as he recast Aura Edge on his scalpel. "I can't wait to crack open the skull beneath that armor, and see just what is inside such a deranged fellow's mind…."

The doctor ran for him again, clearly planning to use his momentum to stab through into a vital organ this time. Richard flexed his arms a bit, but the metal restraints merely groaned without moving more than a millimeter; he couldn't snap free. And he knew his armor couldn't protect him from that scalpel….

"You want to see what's beneath this armor?"

Greymont—do what I'm thinking!

Luckily, the dragon didn't need much encouragement: he had also seen Salinger coming, and had begun to realize he couldn't do anything while attached to Richard. Now, in a heartbeat, the metallic-coating portion of Richard's attire melted completely off of his body.

It didn't slough off into a puddle like last time, however; rather, it seemed to burst off of him in an explosive stream, straight towards the doctor. At once, Salinger, mad as he was, halted and gaped in alarm —it was clearly something he hadn't expected— as the metal immediately reshaped mid-air. By the time it landed, it already had four limbs and claws, and in another second Greymont's full 'natural form' had been rebuilt, flexing its wings and hissing angrily at the doctor.

"What—What the…?"

"This is for trying to mess with the Boss, you quack!" Greymont growled, taking in a deep breath and snapping his snout out. A ball of fire erupted from his jaws, and struck the doctor head-on, instantly engulfing him in fire.

Even with his pain thresholds altered, considering the number of receptors for detecting burning heat that his body held, along with the fact that the entire said body was now being bathed in flames…the resulting combination was not something even Dr. Salinger could shrug off. He instantly screamed and flailed, moving back into the center of the room and desperately trying to extinguish himself.

While the fire on his skin died quickly enough, his clothing remained ablaze, and even when he threw himself on the ground and tried to beat it out, his beard was burning; he finally fled to a washbasin on one side of the chamber to try to put the last flames out. Greymont, pleased with this, quickly turned back to Richard, ran to the metal apparatus holding his sword arm, seized it in his jaws, and ripped it right out. With one limb now loose, the young man quickly cut through the other one, freeing himself completely.

"Nice work, Greymont," Richard said as he took a moment to pet his head briefly.

"No problem—that guy was getting to be a real pain. I'm still stinging…."

Salinger had managed to put his beard out by now, but had to return to the floor and roll further in the splashes he'd made in doing so to finish quenching his smoldering clothes. Even after doing so, he was still quite pained and sore, clearly burned in some spots, before he could douse the flames. —Yet, as he came out of it, he began to hiss angrily as he fumbled over the floor, looking for his scalpel.

"What is this? What is that thing? Why? No—I don't care; it's just an exotic familiar…won't change—"

He was suddenly cut off as Richard reached and kicked him, flipping him over onto his back. The doctor instantly tried to rise again, but the young man pointed his blade at his chest, and he was too close for the doctor to risk making a move now. As wild and crazed as he was, he didn't try to fight back for a moment.

"Seems like it already did."

Salinger paused, but his own face remained twisted as he glared at him.

"Well, go on then—do it!"

Beneath the helmet, Richard's teeth clenched. "I wouldn't dare me, if I were you."

"You already said you were going to take my life," the doctor hissed back. "Or was that just another maddened ramble from a lunatic?"

The young man paused. To be honest, he had said that…but he hadn't expected to get to this point. Killing him in battle would be one thing…but to actually stab a man like this, unarmed, unable to fight back, and totally at his mercy? That didn't sit right nearly so easily.

What made it even worse was that he realized a dark truth: he couldn't bring Salinger in, even if there was a chance of doing so without being arrested himself. The reason was right in front of him: Greymont was out and about. Salinger knew Richard's secret. He knew about the living dragon. The very thing that Voltaire had warned Richard about back in their first discussions. He couldn't let Salinger live, now.

And that was what made it even harder to kill him.

I'd be killing him out of necessity; even if he was just an average bum, I can't let him know about Greymont and live. But…that's pretty much the opposite of justice. Now I'd just be killing him by choice; because he'd be an 'inconvenience'. How'd that be any different from what he has those crooked cops doing for him? How'd that be any different from what was happening in Zaylor?"

"Uh…Boss?" Greymont called out. "Aren't you going to do it?"

Richard didn't answer; he didn't move. He didn't know what to do now…and the more he tried to decide, the less certain he became.

It seemed the doctor realized the situation, and he let out a dark snicker as he got his hands underneath him and slowly pushed himself up to his feet. "So…in the end, you lack the resolve to kill when you're not in the heat of battle. How do you expect to change the world if you won't even get your hands dirty, young man?"

The armored man tightened at that, pushing the blade in a bit further when he finally stood. "Go on and go for your weapon again, if you think my resolve is so little. See if you're still breathing."

For a moment, the doctor began to look maddened again…but then, beneath his almost-opaque lenses, his eyes twitched to the side. His maddened grin grew a bit wider. "I think not. You should have had the resolve to kill me when you had the chance—I thought you'd realize by now all I ever need is a little time."

He thought of that for a moment, before he heard something: metallic clicking from metal paws behind him. His face was still well-concealed behind his mask, but he knew that sound: another one of those Jaeger Cogs. Greymont seemed to hear it too, and immediately turned around and gave out a growl of his own—although he hesitated, seeming not to know if he could charge it without getting Richard killed.

It didn't really matter: he heard a pair of hydraulic clicks, followed by the sound of cannon generators warming up. Even if Greymont did move now, he realized, the guns were out. He'd have to jump into the path of them to stop it…and he was sure they were aimed right behind him.

Richard swallowed. He was still wearing armor, but the old suit, without Greymont's reinforcement, might as well have been newspapers; the rounds would go right through it. There was a chance he could dive at Salinger and stab him first, but he wasn't sure if killing the controller would do any good; the man certainly hadn't needed to be around when they'd attacked earlier.

"About time you arrived," Salinger stated, breathing slightly slower now. "Here's your intruder—don't hesitate to use maximum force."

"Orders acknowledged. Target in range."

The cannons warmed up further as Richard heard the unseen machine lock its legs. However, just as he began to sweat beneath that helmet, he heard something else: the sound of the arcing refractors snapping out. A phased burst shot out just like before, but Richard never felt anything. Instead, on perfectly bent tracks, he saw the plasma bend around his body altogether in a curve…and sail right for Salinger instead.

The shots weren't completely perfect; if they were, he would have instantly had his body incinerated. Instead, they impacted the area near his feet, sending out concussive blasts that ripped up tile and pavement.

The doctor's grin disappeared as he cried out in alarm and immediately snapped backward. His teeth gnashed in fury. "What in the blazes are you aiming at!? You almost hit me!"

The machine didn't respond; adjusting their aim, the plasma cannons continued to fire, blasting after him and forcing him back further, making him run all the way back to the edge of the gallery. His back smacked up against the wall—but the mechanical hound cut off at that point.

He was taking a step away from the wall when, as much to Richard's surprise as the doctor's, a wraith-like form suddenly dropped down from the railing, clad in the cut-up remains of a straitjacket, landed behind him, reached into his pocket, snatched out the syringe still residing inside, and, in a move that had to have been rehearsed mentally for years, snapped it up and drove it into the doctor's neck, immediately discharging the contents into him.

In spite of his pain tolerance, Salinger still arched back and cried out in shock. Richard himself blinked in surprise, turned, and looked behind himself, to the Jaeger Cog…and realized it wasn't like the ones from before: the colors indicated it was Alphonse. Realizing what that meant, he looked back to the surprise combatant.

Pale face tight, teeth clenched, and nothing but a murderous glare in her eyes as she pushed even harder on the syringe plunger, as if it would make more fluid come out of the spent device, was Claire.

For the first time since they had met, Richard saw Salinger's own face drain of color as fear streaked it. "They freed you…? No…no…!"

"What's the matter, Doc?" she hissed as she yanked the empty needle out as painfully as she could. "You're so proud of your medicine; don't you want a taste? You always bragged about how nothing could resist it—I figured that works for magic, too…."

Salinger continued to stare in horror, knowing what this meant. His own face was beginning to cover itself with sweat droplets. Richard doubted it was simply from anxiety.

Claire's hate-filled face formed a cruel smirk. "I've wanted to watch this for such a long time; I hope you don't merely become brain-dead—I'd rather see you stabbing your own eyes out. Of course, if this serum does what it's supposed to, there's nothing for you to fear…right?"

The doctor's face turned red as a beet as his veins started to bulge, from anger, or from something else….

"Damn you!"

His hand lashed out and snapped towards the woman, slapping her as hard as he could across the face. She went down immediately, having no strength or girth to protect or stabilize herself…but as hard as she slammed against the floor, and as painful as it had to be, Richard saw she kept smiling all the way to the floor: she knew her deed was done, and couldn't be undone.

Salinger continued to seethe. "You never could learn to just behave, could you, Miss Lune?" he said as he started to advance on her. He didn't bother going for his scalpel; he only extended his huge hands as he neared. "No matter how many times I educated you on your folly, you never turned around.

"If I'm going to go, my last act as a doctor will be…putting…" He began to slow, starting to blink repeatedly. He wavered a little as he advanced further. "…you down…." He wobbled a bit more, swallowing, his sweat continuing to mount.

"Increased blood pressure…temperature…phase one of injection…no—it's my drug…." He slowed to a stop, and put a hand on his head. "Keep it together, Abe; you made this…. Distortion…things…" He snapped his head to one side. "Mild hallucinations…all part of the phase…. That one…that one looks like—no, keep it together! It's only the second phase…. Colors…too bright…. No! You're a scientist…be scientific…."

In spite of his self-directed pep-talk, he began to sweat more; it was soaking his clothes now. His mouth began to move even when he wasn't saying anything, and his pupils shrank.

"Involuntary memory—no, not that…. No! I don't want to…. Together…. Don't see it! Him…him! No! Not him! Together! Scientific…scientific… Sam—that's not you! That's not you! SCIENTIST! Sam!? What are you doing here!? Don't go in there! Delusion! You're a delusion!" His voice grew louder, more furtive, as he started to pace. "Don't go there! Out! Too bright! Too much color! God, the color! Paint it out! Not in there!"

He suddenly seized the sides of his head, beginning to spittle and foam.

"Not there! I told you, not there! Stay away from that! I'm a scientist—I know my explosives! Keep away! Merit…meritorious service! STAY HERE, SAM! Shut the damn door! Temperature! Too goddamn bright! GAAAH!"

At that point, the doctor snapped. Digging his nails into his own bald scalp hard enough to draw blood, screaming just as inhumanly and twisted as his patients upstairs, he spun around. Suddenly, he flipped about and began to run in erratic circles, screaming, going as wild as a man in the final stages of rabies. His eyes rolled back in his head as he screamed, and he literally started to foam at the mouth as he made twisted noises Richard thought incapable of being made by a human; he actually recoiled a bit in unease —perhaps even fear— as the tall man continued to rage and spittle, running faster and more erratically…until at last he reached the edge of the chamber, and drove himself headfirst into the wall.

A sickening crack came out, and he collapsed to the floor. A bloodstain was left where his skull made contact, but, in spite of that, Richard didn't think it was a fatal hit; just enough to knock Salinger out. He collapsed to the ground, foam continuing to come from his mouth, his gaze looking at the ceiling blankly, and white as a sheet. He gave one gurgle, but that was all.

Richard stared for a few moments, making sure he wasn't getting up again. He thought he could finish him now…but he realized that that was pointless—he was just another vegetable now, like so many of his victims.

Still, his own heart was racing after seeing that. Again he was grateful for the armor concealing most of his expression and body language. Greymont was far more uncomfortable, actually having recoiled a few feet and giving the doctor a disturbed stare. Richard was more interested in Claire at the moment, and looked back to her.

Her hand holding the syringe was shaking, but she kept grinning at the fallen body.

"Daddy…that's one down, and one to go," she breathed loud enough for him to hear. "…Fraction's next."

Richard had to admit, this wasn't the most at-ease-putting sight he could have hoped for; it was actually a tad demented…but, considering everything she had been through, Richard's own ever-growing thoughts of vengeance, and the fact that this was something that had done him a favor, he was hardly in a position to argue. He put those feelings aside, and cleared his throat. "Are you all right?"

"Better than 'all right'," Claire answered as she absently rubbed at her face. There was a sign of a bruise forming there, and she winced a bit, but she hardly seemed to care. "That felt great."

"You were obviously planning that for a long time, but we have to go now; this already took a lot longer than I'd hoped. Los Midas's law enforcement has to have been called, and they must be en route by now."

"Not just yet," Claire growled as she tried to get her arms underneath her. Weak as she was, she seemed trying to crawl over to him. "Not until I'm sure the bastard never wakes up. Why don't you save me the trouble, and have your dragon eat him? Or cut him into little pieces…."

Now Richard was growing a bit uneasy about all of this. He wanted Salinger stopped, and he was stopped; anything else was getting out of the realm of equitability and into pure revenge, or sadism, even. "He's already gone. Even if he's not dead, his mind is shattered. That's what that drug was supposed to do in the first place, right?"

Claire merely snorted and continued to push herself along, dragging her body forward.

"I know that you—"

"Don't talk to me as if you know how I feel!"

The sudden snap at Richard was so vicious and violent, and Claire's own face so twisted, he was again silenced—yet she kept glaring at him angrily.

"You know nothing, you got that!? Not a damn thing! None of you do! You aren't in a position to tell me what to do!" She sneered. "Don't give me that 'I know how you feel' crap. Don't you dare. You spend years in this rat-hole as his personal stress-relieving-toy, and then you can look me in the eye and say, 'I know how you feel'."

Richard didn't answer; he really couldn't. He hadn't expected to actually be intimidated by a practically-crippled woman. Luckily, he didn't have to say any more: with a sound of metal whirring, Alphonse walked up to his side and calmly sat down.

"Mistress Claire," his monotonous voice rang. "I believe this man's evaluation of the situation is correct—unless we leave in the next minute, our odds of escape will fall below the fifty-percent threshold for being able to evade incoming security officials."

It seemed the woman trusted the words of machines she programmed over living individuals: her anger abated a bit here. She looked to the Jaeger Cog for a moment, then turned and looked to Salinger. He hadn't moved or made a sound since he hit the wall. He finally made one gesture —a simple arm-twitch— and that was it. She stared at him a second longer, before inhaling sharply and spitting hard enough to hit him even from her position.

"I guess a quick death is too good for him. Maybe being trapped in his own head will give him some idea of how I felt on that damn gurney—and I don't hate him so much as to spend another second in this dump to cut him up." She looked up at last, back to Richard. "You have a way out of here, Dragon Man?"

Richard grimaced beneath his mask, but nodded. "We need to get back to the port; if we can make it that far, I have a friend with a warp spell that will take us to freedom. Follow me."

Immediately, the Jaeger Cog moved to her side and crouched. In spite of being weak, sore, and stiff, Claire managed to grab the side and pull herself back on again, enough to straddle its back once more. As she finished getting on, Richard began to move, but paused and turned his head behind him.

"And the name is 'Requiem', not 'Dragon Man'."

"Hmph," Claire answered as Alphonse rose and started to follow him. "So, why do you have a dragon with you? I thought they'd been dead for a thousand years…."

Greymont nearly spoke up at that, but Richard quickly put his hand on him and gestured for him to come with them. He held, frowning a little, but then turned and went as well. "I'd also appreciate you not mentioning that my armor has a layer that's a techno-organic, shape-shifting dragon. If you come with us, I need to know I can trust you."

"Who said I was coming with you, past off of this island?" the woman answered. "If you guys can't help me with my problem, you're of no use to me, and I'll find someone who is." She shrugged. "But maybe, if you're interesting enough, I'll stick around. Certainly seems you could use someone who understands technology…."

Richard felt a tad bit insulted by that, especially considering the fact she'd still be trapped upstairs if not for him, but he let it slide; that wasn't his concern right now. He made a gesture to Greymont, indicating for the dragon to fuse with him again.

As the two exited the gallery through the nearest doors, the dragon "melted" back into liquid form and bonded to him, covering his inner armor once again, and restoring his former look, complete with the cut repaired. As soon as Greymont was back, the armored man took off into a full run, and the Jaeger Cog, with its single passenger, followed.

---

While Dan had been a bit sore at the time, in retrospect he was happy to just get off of this 'Isle of the Damned'. Now that he was out of the face of someone he wanted to cream, he was far more focused on the immediate task at hand: getting his boys out.

Luckily, it seemed their opening moves had left quite the impression: most of the security staff had fled, and, in their haste, they had only mobilized a few of the automated guards to stop them. It hadn't been anything that Dan and his group couldn't smash through, which was just how he wanted it.

The Intensive Ward had been left behind by now; some of the inmates had actually laughed at the whole thing when they came bursting through the gate, practically running over the guy at the desk, and then ran out into the open grounds beyond.

From there, they formed something of a circle, both to give the impression of larger numbers and to provide protection, and charged straight through for the docks. If something got in their way, they hit hard and fast, and didn't lose any speed.

Dan wanted the impression of an unstoppable, rolling riot, to hopefully get a psychological advantage, if nothing else. At last, however, the shoreline came into view, along with the loading bay where they started.

He actually managed to grin at that. "Hold it together, Wolves—we're almost out of this joint!" He turned his head up a bit. "Yo, Zach! How are Tony and Eloy doing?"

The gang member looked up and back, and soon grimaced…especially when Tony blurted a name they didn't recognize. "Eh…not good, bro; hope they can snap out of it…."

"Ah, we'll worry about that when we get out of this," Dan responded. "We're almost in the clear, though. I think all the top guards already ran for the hills, and we got less than an Electro Ball court to go!"

Turning his gaze forward again, he got ready to put out the extra steam for the last leg…when he saw a massive metal cargo box suddenly fly up and right for them.

At once, his face tightened, and he swore. "Everyone hit the deck!"

Moving as fast as he could —probably too rough for Zach— the gang leader slammed himself down on the ground. The others followed, and not a moment too soon. The crate nearly took off one of their heads as it sailed over them, bounced and cracked against the ground a few times, and finally smashed against one of the old masonry walls on the grounds of the main complex, a short distance away.

Everyone panted in shock as well as from exertion, and looked up in amazement at what had just happened. Zach grunted, having nearly been thrown off of Dan by that little move, but the gang leader quickly pushed himself up and out from under him—that crate hadn't just fallen from the sky.

A gruff, and rather irate, voice confirmed this.

"I'm gonna give you the beat-down I should have given you last night, you grimy street-rats!"

This was followed by the sounds of hydraulic pistons and mechanical whirring, as well as the ground shaking a bit from methodical footsteps. Quickly, the gang leader got to his feet, and the rest of his group began to rise and look for the source as well.

A brown exo-suit was currently advancing on them—a Golem-type, and one used mostly for construction. Like most exo-suits, however, it could also be used as a weapon, and it seemed that was what Sgt. Booker was using it for. His face was tight with rage, just barely poking out of the top of the much-larger humanoid frame, as he advanced on them. The look he gave them showed nothing but bloodlust.

Dan, however, merely cracked his neck and scowled. "You again? You have the guts to show your face, after how much you've pissed me off!? Look at you, you spineless pig—ain't even man enough to fight with your bare hands!"

"Ah, shut the hell up!" the corrupt officer sneered back. "I don't even want you, you piece of trash—I want that masked man who calls your shots! But, if he ain't around, then I'll be glad to tear you apart for a warm-up!"

That blow to his ego only stoked Dan's rage. "You think I need his help to take you out? And you think that oversized tin can is going to make a difference!?" He turned his head backwards. "Hey! Wolves!"

The others, even those carrying their delirious partners, immediately readied themselves.

"Meet up with Hector and Jess—I'm granting our old friend here an early retirement!"

The group hesitated on hearing that; some looked rather uneasy. Zach managed to wobble up into a squat, but his own face twisted uncomfortably. "Uh…Dan…I know you can trash things like hoverbikes and all by yourself, but this dude's piloting a damn Golem…."

The man snickered as he flexed an arm. "I can take some lame crooked cop, no matter what hunk of junk he's in—especially when he's ticked me off enough to get me into my 'A' game. I'll be there by the time you've got the ship running."

Zach still looked a bit hesitant, but not only did he believe in his leader, there was also the fact that he couldn't do much to help out in his current state. After looking at themselves and seeing, between their own debilitated members, they couldn't do much, the rest of the gang seemed to assent as well. Looking back as he forced himself to push up to his feet, he gave a nod. "All right, Nicholson. Give him hell."

With that, he turned and began to hobble away as best he could. The others did much the same, with one running up to him to give him some assistance. The Golem halted at this, the pilot glaring at them hatefully.

"Just where do you think you're going?"

Immediately, he shifted the controls, pitching the Golem forward and breaking it into a charge for the fleeing gang members. However, Dan wasn't about to give him the chance; he broke after the machine as well, to head it off, quickly grasping his belt buckle and chanting his Turbo Knuckle spell.

As before, his arm, still encased in metal from earlier moves, expanded and morphed to form the massive appendage with a piston in the elbow, which snapped back as he adjusted his course right for the Golem.

Seeing that he was being intercepted, Booker's rage only redoubled as he cocked back one of his machine's wrecking-ball-sized fists. A moment later, both men swung their respective arms at one another, and collided.

The resulting crack was so loud, one would have thought an earthquake had just split a building in two; the noise echoed all the way to the mainland. Both sides ground a few feet into the dirt, their feet digging into the rocky ground…but, in the end, both were only a short distance away from each other, with both of their fists still extended, having stopped each other in their tracks but gotten little else to show for it.

"What the hell, you little punk?" Booker shouted. "That should have turned you into a bloody smear!"

To be honest, that had hurt…a little. Dan showed that off as he pulled his fist back and rubbed it a bit, although he grinned slickly as well. "I wouldn't be the head of the Hammer Wolves if I went down that easy, would I?"

Booker snarled as he swung the controls of the machine. "You little mother—"

The huge metal fist of the Golem snapped into the air and swung around, to hammer Dan flat—yet the gang leader merely grinned and leapt back, letting the massive metal appendage smash into nothing but the ground. While the concrete pavement was cracked, the gang leader was still fine.

"That big tin can don't mean a whole lot if you're too slow to hit anything with it!" he shouted as he squatted and chanted, again morphing both of his arms into large metal appendages with multiple pistons in the elbow joints. Both of them began to rumble with an intense rolling sound, snapping his metal-coated hands out with rapidly increasing speed, before he leapt right at the exo-suit. "Say hello to my Jackhammer Grind!"

Before the slow-moving suit could react, Dan was landing on it and digging both of his fists into it. Unlike before, when he was content just to beat his opponent away, this time he clenched his teeth and dug in as much as he could.

Normally, these suits were far better armored than Garou-type Jaeger Cogs, but even so, his powerful punches soon began to smash their way in. The metal began to heat from the pounding, starting to warp and deform underneath the barrage, and, in spite of the growing pain, Dan just kept pounding in, starting to slowly force the metal into flying straight off as his raw power began to push the Golem back…

…yet he wasn't able to break through. The pounding damaged the machine, but didn't make it through to the pilot. —And as soon as the force started to repel the machine, Booker gave another yell as he moved both arms up, swung them around, opened up the pincers, and slammed them around Dan. The gang leader was so obsessed with attacking, he didn't even see it coming until he was already surrounded by the metal appendages.

Abruptly, his attack was aborted as both arms were twisted down to his sides, and the vises quickly tightened to pin him there. They then tightened even more than that, squeezing his chest and beginning to crush inward. Dan struggled to break free from the sudden crushing grasp for only a moment, before the intense pressure began to clutch his chest and start straining his ribs. His face contorted with rapidly growing pain…

"I got you now, you bastard!" Booker shouted out over the noises of the tightening pistons. "You thought some gangster punk like you could cross an officer like me and get away with it? You've got no tricks left!"

Dan didn't answer; he continued to strain under the growing pressure and pain, knowing he didn't have long. Fighting the grip was useless, so instead he concentrated as hard as he could on just his right arm. Although it was a rather tight squeeze, and he ended up ripping his shirt sleeve off to do it, he managed to yank one arm free. The claws immediately closed in tighter, starting to squeeze the air out of his lungs…but he used that to give one more hiss to the corrupt officer.

"If I was out of tricks…what do you call…this…? Elastic Fist!"

Quickly using the rest of his air to whisper out a spell, Dan's arm was enveloped in light once again. The officer looked to it in alarm, although he didn't tense up too much: from the distance he held Dan, there was no way he could hit him with another Turbo Knuckle.

However, his arm didn't turn metal this time—it turned into something that looked oddly shiny and synthetic, like flesh-colored gum, or some sort of toy's plastic. A moment later, he whipped his arm forward, and, much to Booker's shock, it actually snapped out, as if the entire thing was nothing more than a giant rubber band. Due to the distance, the arm lashed out a good fifteen feet before the fingers reached out and snatched the man by the lapel.

The officer began to say an expletive, but never got the chance to finish as he was suddenly yanked forward, as if he was on the end of a taut bungee line. In his haste, the officer hadn't taken the precaution of strapping himself in, and his body was wrenched and smacked painfully against the console as he was ripped right out of the cockpit. Swinging his arm around like a stretchy whip, Dan immediately used the snap-back to fling Booker straight into the air, causing his last curse to degenerate into a panicked scream.

With him off of the controls, the safeties kicked in and immediately put the Golem idle. With the sounds of rapid powering-down pistons, the arms relaxed, and the vise-grips eased. Dan gasped for air as he was released, the blood rushing back into his arms and his ribs screaming in relief. Yet even now he didn't relax; as soon as he had some of his bearings back, he clenched his teeth again, snapped his elastic arm back to his side, and used his "normal" one to grab onto the fist and hoist himself up and on top of extremity, soon using it as a sort of stilt.

His eyes turning from pain to rage, he looked up into the sky, and watched as Booker's flailing form descended back to his level. In response, he took only a moment to shift his posture, tighten up his leg, and snap out a kick strong enough to fracture concrete as soon as the officer was at his level.

The blow hit the corrupt man's middle, crumpling him around Dan's foot before snapping him away, the sheer power behind the kick enough to knock the man's sunglasses lenses out of their sockets. A large metal thud resounded a split second later as his body was smacked into the dented chest of the repurposed exo-suit, along with the sounds of multiple bones cracking. The officer limply peeled off of the machine, before falling to the ground in a near-lifeless heap.

"That was for Cody and Jim, asshole," Dan snarled as he leapt off of his Elastic Fist and touched down on the ground. His ribs throbbed a bit, but it was nothing he hadn't taken before. "Still think you're so tough, hotshot? Think a real man is whoever has the most cash and the most weight to throw around, eh, pig? Maybe that's what you think, but to me, a man is someone who stands by his friends no matter what, and a rat is someone who only cares about himself! I may be from the slums, but I am not trash, hear me!?"

In spite of what had to be multiple broken bones and likely cracked vertebrae, the man coughed once, spit out a tooth, and struggled to get his hands underneath him to push himself up.

As his damaged sunglasses frames fell off his face, he gazed with thoughts of bloody murder at Dan for a moment, before his remaining flesh and bone arm gave a wet snap, and he fell back down, bellowing in more pain and rage. "Goddamn it! I'll kill you! You ain't making a fool out of me, you damn…goddamn…son of a…." In his struggle to find an insult, Booker fumed so much the sound of another snapping bone went off. "GAH!"

Dan glared at him for a moment longer, his face still frowning, and his fists still tightened…but, as he saw the broken remains of the corrupt officer rapidly get soaked by their own blood, and Booker only injuring himself worse trying to get up, he simply snorted and shook his head.

"You know what? Screw it—I don't waste time on dogs that're all bark and no bite. Later!"

Reaching up and tipping his hat to the bloody man, the gang leader turned and started to walk away, back after the others.

He heard more growling and snarling behind him. Through a stream of curses, the man hissed after him, "This ain't over! I'll get you, you son-of-a-bitch! I'll waste you! I'm gonna tear out your eyeballs, and…"

At that point, Dan heard a metallic groaning suddenly drown out Booker's tirade; it sounded like it was coming from the Golem exo-suit. Blinking twice, he idly turned back around, and saw the machine wasn't perched very well in its inactive state, considering the uneven terrain—and now it was beginning to tip over…right on top of Booker. The bloody man's eyes widened.

He struggled to turn around, as the groaning got louder and louder, picking up speed, but, by the time he got his broken body turned enough to see it, the suit had already left its center of gravity completely. He opened his mouth to cry out in terror, struggling in vain to get up and out of the way for a few seconds before the huge hunk of metal slammed down on top of him. A massive THUD rang out, and Booker's voice was silenced for good.

Dan gave a snort at the whole thing, then simply turned and started to move again, this time going into a full dash.

Always nice when things work out for you…. Bastard was lucky, though; that's nothing compared to what I'll do to that other sell-out….

The gang leader was already close to the docking bay before the slight interruption; therefore he only moved a short distance closer before he saw the hangar doors roll up, and spotted Hector and Zach rapidly ducking out from under it as it rose, watching him as he came in.

"Hey!" Dan shouted as he ran up. "I thought I told you all to get ready to go!"

"Yeah, yeah! We were making sure you came back, you ungrateful jackass!" Hector shouted back.

Seconds later, the gang leader slowed to a halt as he ran up to them. "Just ribbing you, is all," he explained. "Tell me you at least got that rig started, though."

"You got it; we can leave right now, if you're ready."

Dan's look turned sour. "And you called me ungrateful! Forgetting the man who got us here? Didn't forget he's an honorary Hammer Wolf, did you?"

His tone was sharp enough to make Hector cringe a bit. "Uh…Yeah, you're right, man. Sorry—I just got too tense for a second…."

"Just chill, man," Dan reassured him, gesturing behind him. "We knocked out the pigs, I took out that exo-suit, and I'm sure Requiem's using Baldy's beard for a mop right now. They haven't even turned up the big alarms to alert the mainland yet, and they got no 'ammo' left—we've made it."

There was a moment of silence after that, before all three men heard a change in the air. The alarms that were blaring rather weakly before now were suddenly and dramatically increased in volume. The gang leader struggled not to roll his eyes: him and his big mouth….

At any rate, he still didn't get too nervous; he knew Requiem would be along any moment now, and even if the patrol boats started loading up and taking off right now, or they threw open the gates, they still had time. He just had to keep calm, and not let his boys psych out….

Suddenly, the alarms changed their tone, becoming something far different from any kind of alarm that Dan had ever heard; something more awkward-sounding than noisy. It made Hector and Zach both look around a bit in confusion.

"The hell is that?"

Moments later, a mechanical, feminine voice suddenly blared out of the loudspeakers.

"DANGER. DANGER. PROTOCOL X IS NOW IN EFFECT; ALL STAFF AND PERSONNEL PLEASE REMAIN INDOORS AT THIS TIME. BE ADVISED: ANYONE NOT WEARING A STAFF COLLAR AND VENTURING OUTDOORS WILL BE DEVOURED."

Dan's eyes widened; both men with him looked horrified. "The hell did that thing just say!?"

"It said 'devoured'!" Hector shot back. "By what!?"

A crackling sound began to echo through the air; Zach looked up, and let out a rather strong expletive at what he found. "By that!"

Dan followed his finger as he pointed into the air, and saw the source of the crackling: one of the gargoyle statues they had passed by coming in. The stone on it was cracking, particularly around the joints and the facial regions. Chips of stone fractured about the huge mouthful of sharp teeth, and began to fall out, one after another, revealing much whiter teeth underneath.

The area around the eyes popped out, revealing burning red lights…only they didn't look electric or artificial—they seemed to be catching whatever dim light was in the air, and reflecting it back, like felines at night. A noise came from its mouth —a horrible hissing sound— as more chips of stone popped out. Suddenly, with a louder crack, the stone around its hands snapped and revealed flexing cruel digits beneath it.

Finally, the wings on the statue flexed, and shattered the bulk of the rest of the stone, which fell off as the flesh-and-blood, twisted monster beneath burst forth and gave a horrible, gurgling cry. It reveled in its freedom momentarily, flexing its body and shedding the rest of its stone coating. It wasn't alone; loud cracks sounded off, one after another, throughout the island as one gargoyle after another burst forth from its imprisonment, hissing and roaring.

"What the hell!?" Hector shouted. "I mean, what the flying fu—"

"All right, that bald psychopath was one thing, but, seriously, man!" Zach whined.

"So, they really don't want people getting off the island, huh?" Dan muttered.

The nearest one of the creatures turned to the group, crouched, and gave a screeching call at them. That seemed to alert the others: more that were nearby turned and screeched as well. The cries rapidly traveled along, until it seemed all of them were turning toward the three and giving out horrendous bleats.

"Next time the city council says they want to hike my taxes for public medicine," Hector muttered, "I'm gonna tell them to shove it up their—"

"Less moaning and more fighting, Hec!" Dan retorted, quickly snapping his arm up and chanting, not only to revert it back into metal, but into its Turbo Knuckle form.

The gargoyles gave one more set of screeches before the nearest one leapt off of its pillar and used the momentum to drop right down at Dan. The others quickly took off as well—unable to actually fly, it seemed, they spread their wings wide, using them in conjunction with the winds constantly buffeting the island to soar towards the group like hawks. As the first one neared, Dan snapped his arm back and popped the piston into position.

The thing lunged for his throat, but he quickly pivoted to one slide, letting the creature shoot by without touching him. Quickly, he swung his fist back around and discharged the piston into it.

To his surprise, it didn't simply get its bones crushed, like most flesh-and-bone bodies would, but its upper torso came clean off and turned into gravel. He realized that, as "fleshy" as these things looked, they were still, in fact, stone….

His thoughts on the matter cut off a moment later, when the second one, right on the heels of the first, went into a stall right in front of him, alit on the ground, then snapped its body around at him. Each one of the cruel creatures had a long, thick tail on the end of it, and this one swung its stone appendage at him, striking him in the shoulder.

The sheer force of the thing alone knocked Dan back and clean into the side of the building, but worse than that was the pain that went flooding through his body at the blow—the monster's strike was hard enough to wrench his shoulder joint in just the wrong way, as well as making it feel like someone had just smacked it with a stone bat. The result was a jolting, numbing pain traveling through his entire limb and stunning him.

More of the things rapidly began to alight on the ground or circle overhead. The one that smacked Dan cracked its mouth open even wider than before and bellowed, exhaling a foul breath that smelled like wet paint. Its cry was aborted when glowing plasma smashed into its mouth, sending up clouds of smoke and dust and annihilating it into stony bits.

Seeing the attackers, Hector had gotten out his stolen gun, and Zach had taken one up himself, and both had opened fire on the thing. Apparently it could feel pain, because it gave a wet gurgling noise as it staggered, the remains of its tongue wagging out of the hole that was once its mouth.

Seizing the opportunity, Dan gritted his teeth and forced himself up again. He didn't bother resetting the piston on his metal arm this time; he merely gave a grunt as he swung it up and around, and brought it down on the thing's head, simultaneously snapping it off and smashing it into the dirt.

Immediately, a third monster hovering in the sky snapped its wings closed and went into a dive for Dan, stretching out its claws and screeching. The gang leader looked up to it in alarm, realizing it was coming too fast to avoid or respond before it hit, and saw he had no other choice but to brace for impact…yet it never came. Instead, he winced as a crescent-shaped wave of blue energy snapped through the sky just over his head, cutting right through the stone monster. As Dan braced the metal piston-arm over his head, all that bounced off of it was the two lifeless halves of the beast.

The man looked up from under the arm to where the wave had come from as Hector and Zach continued to fire around them, scattering shots everywhere in an attempt to keep the rest of the things back, rather than focusing on killing any one of them.

Through the crowd of savage monsters, he spotted Requiem charging over a hill in the landscape. A Jaeger Cog was hot on the man's heels, but Dan recognized not only the coloration, but also the rider, from earlier: that 'Claire' girl.

He had no idea why she had decided to go back instead of staying with the others, but he didn't really care right now; they had fresh threats to deal with. He quickly advanced, smashing another attacking creature's head in as it tried to leap at him.

The gang-leader and his companions weren't totally swarmed for long. Some of the creatures gave the same long screech as they had a moment ago, this time looking at Requiem. More soon echoed, before a flood of those in the air dove at him.

One swept down and came out for a horizontal strike, but it reached Requiem only for him to lash out with his blade, simultaneously striking and slashing it to shatter it as if it was made of glass.

Another swept in from a different side and tried to snap its tail at him, but he countered by snapping up his metal arm and using it as a shield of his own. As he swung and cleaved the appendage from the monster, sending it flying and flailing into its brethren, he shouted out, "Why aren't you all loading up to get out of here?"

"Wanted to admire the decor!" Dan called back as another gargoyle lashed out its tail at him. He was ready this time: he snapped out with his metal arm and seized it. Rather than snap it off or crush it, he gave a grunt and swung around, using this gargoyle as a flail to smash two of its friends, breaking it up as well in the process. "Did the ol' Doc get his meds?"

Requiem gave a curt affirmation as he seized an attacking monster by the neck and smashed his helmet into his face, snapping its head clean off.

"Good. Honestly, I wanted to punch his face in, but just so long as he choked on his own ego, somehow I'll live with it."

"If you can cut being so full of 'macho-ness' for a few seconds…" Claire moaned as Alphonse snapped out his side blades, then leapt into the air, both to close the last bit of distance as well as to slice through a pair of attackers diving for her, "Can we get out of here!? I don't want to spend another second of my life on this rock—especially not with these damn things trying to eat us!"

The machine landed in the midst of the group, right in front of the still-open entrance; it didn't run in, but instead quickly snapped back around to the attacking swarm as Requiem joined in with the group. With a hiss, the plasma cannons on its back again snapped out, and fired off several repeating bursts; several more horrendous screeches came out as three more gargoyles were knocked out of the sky.

Zach winced at the sudden plasma cannon fire, then snapped to Dan. "Wait, she's coming with us!? She was up in that room with the rest of the uber-crazies! How do you know she's not a serial killer?"

"Screw you, asshole!" Claire spat back as Alphonse deployed the arcing refractors on his barrels and fired off additional shots, causing the swarm to back up as two more joined the destroyed. "You and your little girlfriend would still be Salinger's latest science project if not for me!"

"She's got a point, man," Dan remarked as he clapped a hand on Zach's shoulder, not just to reassure him but to beckon him to get going. "We owe her a solid! Now, let's bust a move and get out of here!"

Zach's face didn't look entirely comfortable, but he didn't argue; he turned, and began to move away, back through the entrance. Hector rapidly did the same, soon passing him as they fell back. Requiem generated two more of those energy waves, snapping them into the air after the stream of fire that Alphonse was giving as Dan turned and charged after his boys.

Finally, both Requiem and Alphonse turned and ran after the others. The armored man hesitated only a moment longer once inside, pulling off the same move from yesterday and smacking the ground with a spell, to make a wall of rock pop out behind them. That done, he barreled after the others.

Just a bit further; only a bit longer….

Alarms were blaring throughout not only the island but every building by now; the loudspeakers were beginning to sound off the location of the escapees, as well as their numbers. He hadn't seen any vehicular sirens or reinforcements yet, and he doubted any would come with that gargoyle swarm outside, but they still had one more hard push to make before they could say they were clear of Rycroft.

Far in the back of the loading bay, one of the hover trucks was already started up, suspended above the ground with the rear entrance opened. Hector reached it and clambered in, then quickly spun around and held out his hands to grab Zach, yanking him up and in as well. Dan charged right behind them, and literally dove into the vehicle as whoever was driving fired up the main engines and began to put it in motion.

It was already rolling forward and beginning to turn by the time Claire and Alphonse reached it, the Jaeger Cog quickly leaping inside. Finally, Richard, weighed down by the extra weights of his armor and Greymont, reached it. He looked inside just in time to see Hector finish dislodging one of his comrades from the front seat and taking it instead. He fired up the engine to full throttle, just as Richard seized the back and hung on.

"All right!" the gangster shouted. "We are out of here!"

The acceleration might have snapped a normal person off, but Richard had a good grip, and used his enhanced strength to pull himself in, seizing the door and slamming it shut behind him. Everyone else already on hung on tight as Hector quickly accelerated to top speed.

He didn't bother looking for any controls or remotes, but shot straight for the side service entrance: apparently the metal shutters were simply for keeping thieves from breaking in, rather than vehicles from breaking out, because, with a violent lurch, the hovercraft smashed right through the metal like it was cardboard, colliding with and shattering a pair of gargoyles lurking about the exit as it did so.

The vehicle erupted out onto the roadways, and gave a violent ninety-degree turn, flinging about Richard and everyone in the back, as it tore onto the path through the facility and to the main gates.

The other gargoyles swooped around it, hissing and spitting and smacking at it, yet not only were they powerless to stop the hovercraft, they only tried for a few moments: it seemed they were keyed to only target things they could smell or see in the open.

They soon split and went back into the sky, hovering idly again, and Hector continued to drive the hover truck as fast as he could.

No one had managed to seal them off yet, it seemed—their little blitzkrieg must have left the staff too stunned to stop them, or, Richard thought, they had simply realized they were outgunned, and decided to get more weapons or let the authorities on the mainland handle them on the other side.

In any event, the truck burst right through and onto the long bridge connecting the asylum to the shores. It was still daytime, but, due to the weather, it was getting darker; Richard could see the lights of the shore from here. He could almost pick out the building they started this in out of the skyline….

His hand went to his head, and touched the Codec. "Jade Hawk."

There was a moment or two of silence, but not enough to get worried. "Good evening, Requiem," Voltaire's voice calmly answered. "Nice of you to call in—you just made 'breaking news' on the local network…."

"Yeah, about that—I hope you're ready, because we don't have a whole lot of time, and we're going to need to really slam the door behind us."

"Oh, don't stress out about something that small—I could do this in my sleep. How did you do on your end?"

Richard looked towards the back doors. He reached out to the handles, and risked opening them slightly to get a view behind the vehicle. It seemed Rycroft wasn't letting them go quite so easily: to the sound of thundering engines, a few law-enforcement-issue hoverbikes were now roaring out from the gates after them.

More than that, they seemed to have some sort of control devices with them to signal the Protocol X "guards", because some of the swarm of gargoyles swung around and began to glide after them, rapidly overtaking the distance and closing in on the truck.

"Not bad, but there's still room for this to go wrong."

"Hmm. Did you get everyone, at least?"

"More or less. We've picked up an extra."

The amusement instantly left Voltaire's voice. "Excuse me? What do you mean, 'extra'? As in, an extra person? As in, an inmate from an asylum for the criminally insane? As in, someone I don't want within a hundred feet of my front—"

"We wouldn't have gotten out as 'clean', if not for her," Requiem cut him off. "Don't worry; I'll be keeping an eye on her. Just get ready to open that warp when I say so."

The young man cut off the transmission for now. A few seconds afterward, sounds of small blasts erupted around the car, one actually piercing the frame of it and burning a hole into the vehicle. It didn't hit anyone, although it certainly made them jump.

Dan now looked out the side window of the cab as Richard again propped open the door. It looked like the guards on the hoverbikes were armed, and were trying to aim for the G-repulsor generators on the truck. Not only that, but the gargoyles were getting close enough to dive.

"Can't take a hint, even after that beating, eh?" Dan snorted. He gave Zach a pat on the shoulder. "Let's give 'em the memo."

Zach forced himself up and to the side door and forced it open, leaning his upper body out with his stolen weapon. At the same time, Alphonse lowered his passenger, then moved off to the opposite side.

There was no door there, so it popped out a blade and made one, cutting a hole through the metal large enough to poke its own upper body out. Again the cannons on its back swiveled out, this time aiming back towards the pursuers. Zach and Alphonse opened fire on the gargoyles simultaneously.

Shooting while in motion proved to be a lot harder, especially since Hector tried to make the vehicle's path meander on the narrow bridge, to ruin the shots of their pursuers, but one still had a wing blasted clean off, and gave a pained screech as it spun wildly to one side and crashed into the ocean. The others scattered, losing more ground as a result of not having as good a breeze to rely on as they had on the island proper.

Still, one dove for the back, and extended its claws to try to latch onto the landing…before the doors flew open, and Richard greeted it with his aura-enhanced blade. A series of rapid, blazing slashes later, most of it landed in the ocean as the rest of it fell in pieces along the road.

Hector snapped his gaze up to the rear-view mirror, and gave a laughing cheer at the counterattack…but as soon as he looked back down in front of them, his smile rapidly faded.

"Guys! We got a problem!"

While Zach and Alphonse continued to fire behind them to keep the pursuers at bay, Richard and Dan both looked to the front. Jessica was nearer, however, and she grabbed the passenger seat and pulled herself up enough to look out at the road ahead. The bridge was almost entirely behind them, and the mainland lay beyond, but again the guards hadn't bothered to set up the gate.

They didn't need to—numerous police transport vehicles, like the one from yesterday, had already formed a blockade, and five times as many officers as had jumped them the night before were out and taking aim. Even through the sounds of the alarms and the engine, Richard thought he could faintly hear a loudspeaker shouting for them to halt or the squad would open fire.

As distressing as this was, the cargo room was just a bit beyond it; Richard could see the building right there, clear as day—literally. If it wasn't for two of the transports blocking one side, right at the junction between the bridge and the mainland, the speeding vehicle could've torn right around the corner and be there. If he was out of the truck and on foot, he wouldn't even have to go that far; from the last open area on the bridge, he could literally leap over and onto the mainland, then make straight for the cargo hanger….

With that in mind, he quickly dashed for the front. "Run us off the bridge! Jump us to shore!"

"Are you nuts!?" Hector shouted back. "Even if we make it, we'll trash the truck!"

"We don't need to take it past that hanger—it just needs to drag us inside!" He snapped back around to the others. "Everyone, brace yourselves! As soon as the truck stops and we're in the hanger, get out and run for the box in the back! Got it?"

Claire answered by quickly whistling to Alphonse, who immediately pulled back from his firing, and crawled over to her for her to mount up. Dan moved over to the still-babbling members of the group, and looked back to the others. "I'll get Tony and Eloy—the rest of you get ready to run! Now, hold on tight!"

Hector swallowed again, but kept his foot all the way down on the throttle. As the barricade neared, and —seeing they weren't stopping— the police began to fire at the vehicle, just trying to keep it from crashing into them, he suddenly yanked the wheel to one side, again flinging the people in the back into the side of the trailer, and shot straight for the side of the bridge.

They tore through the flimsy guardrail a moment later, and shot out right over the edge. For a fateful second or two, they were suspended over nothing but ocean; the G-repulsors had nothing to kick off of, and the truck began to fall.

They never hit the water. The dock edge came back underneath them just as they came down to its level, and with a violent snap that kicked everyone around even more than before, and, to the tune of metal grinding pavement, the hover truck smashed into the concrete surface of the road.

The G-repulsors began to totally break down, and iron-crushing noises and sparks flew out from the bottom of the hover truck, but Hector, jostled as he was, kept his foot on the throttle and the engines going. The truck continued to scrape its way forward, just intact enough to get to the open cargo hanger doors, swing around in one more abrupt turn, and drag its full bulk inside before the G-repulsors gave out altogether, and the smoking, smelling wreck of a truck halted.

Sirens blared everywhere as the police realized they had evaded the blockade, but quickly broke to swarm around the building before any of the passengers could get away. As for those in the truck, Hector had been buckled in, and Richard, Dan, and Alphonse had borne the brunt of the violent impact well enough to move quickly.

The others were in pain and smacked around as they tried to rise as fast as possible, running mostly on adrenaline now, but the prince didn't wait for them; he quickly ran to the back and kicked the doors open, snapping both off their hinges to make a path, and ran out. Dan scooped up Tony and Eloy, and Alphonse immediately burst out with a moaning, bruised, and shaken Claire on its back.

As soon as he was out, Richard chanted the words for his Mist Bomb spell, and flung it out the open hanger door, hoping he had done so before anyone could see anything of what actually happened; the approaching police vehicles were immediately obscured by thick gray vapors.

The second that was done, he ran to the edge of the hanger, slapped his palm against it, and chanted another spell: this one was Metal Morph. To the tune of groaning and echoing, the walls around the entrance twisted, deformed, and enlarged until they melded into a new wall, completely blocking off the exit. The sounds of louder and louder sirens mounted around behind it rapidly; it was soon joined by doors opening and police cursing.

"Open the big box in the back!" Richard shouted as he snapped back around.

Sore as some of them were, the rest of the gang was off the truck. Richard held until everyone was running for the rear of the warehouse, all while more and more noise began to surround the cargo hanger, as well as red and blue lights swirling in the windows, before he brought up the rear. Banging began to ring out on the doors, and shouts to find the service entrance were made as the quarry dashed for the rear.

Dan reached it first, although he was still hanging on to his companions, so he motioned for the next-nearest gang member to tear open the box. They quickly dove on it, and soon everyone was illuminated by the faint green glow coming from a tiny energy swirl literally hovering in midair.

Again Requiem's fingers went to his ear. "Jade Hawk, we're ready!"

Immediately, the tiny swirl gave a loud, echoing, swishing sound, rippled, and then expanded into a full vortex. There was no time for hesitation; one by one, the gang members leapt in, followed by Dan and his two magically-drugged comrades, then finally by Claire and Alphonse.

Richard heard the sound of an explosion behind him at the other end of the hanger, clearly the police blasting their way in, but he didn't stop to look at it before he, too, leapt into the portal.

The distorted feeling and the sense of being pulled every which way weren't any more pleasant than last time, although at this point Richard was so high on adrenaline he didn't really care so long as it was them getting out of there.

Finally, it terminated; with a disorientated tumble, the young man found reality snapping back around him, in the form of what looked like a dusty, empty basement storage room. He stumbled back out and onto his feet as the portal he had just exited rapidly snapped shut behind him.

With the smell of the ocean replaced by must, and the cacophony by a lot more silence (aside from some panting), Richard gave a look around: it looked to be just some wide, wood-paneled room, occupied only by the gangsters and a sofa.

The gang was sprawled out all around, looking even more disorientated than he felt. Dan again seemed to be the first person up, after having spilled forward and dumped his comrades, and quickly looked around.

"Did we make it? Did we escape? Where the hell are we?"

The Codec devices buzzed, not only in Richard's ear but in everyone else's ears as well; they stopped to listen.

"Don't worry; you're all now in the basement of my guesthouse. With the Inflecto Nectunt spell disabled, there's no way your pursuers can find where you went, either. Congratulations, gentlemen—you've successfully pulled a jailbreak."

At once, the room burst out into a chorus of cheering, no-one really caring for a moment if it was sound-proof. Hector was wiping at his face, practically crying for joy; Jessica threw her arms around Dan long enough to give him a gratitude-hug, before going back to Zach to give him a kiss, while the others began to cheer about their feat.

As the cheering subsided, Dan couldn't help but laugh. "Why do you guys look so amazed? I told you we look out for our own, right? Otherwise, what's the point of bein' in the pack in the first place?" He looked up to Richard. "Although…to be honest, I owe you all the real credit, Requiem; I don't know if we could have gotten too far past the front gate, if not for you."

The young man exhaled as he returned his sword to his sheath. "Justice was served, so it was my pleasure. Thanks for following my plans. However, it's not over, at least for me—all of this is me just getting started."

To be honest, Richard still had a case of shaky nerves; he hadn't been through anything so intense since Zaylor. He had a bit of new respect for Orion now; he made coordinating a group look easy —perhaps that was why he always walked around with a look that could kill— yet he didn't dwell too much on that for now. In spite of the surprises, he had managed to make it through this alive, with a successful result…and it had went better than he had expected.

Honestly, in spite of all of his outward confidence and planning. And now, he realized, even if Richard Zilos was still believed dead by his family and country, the existence of Requiem, or at least his image, was going to be public knowledge tomorrow. For better or for worse, he had started a little more than what he had originally intended to.

Despite all the various factors providing him anxiety, Richard was relieved that, even if it wasn't how he planned it, he'd still managed to do what he wanted to do since joining the Magna Centurions: be a hero.