Chapter Fourteen: March of the Ibis Corps

Although Troy nearly revealed everyone's presence by crashing into a garbage can (thankfully, at the same time an ambulance transport happened to be blazing past them with its deafening sirens running), the Crimson Tengu Ravens managed to return from their first official mission without any further incidents.

By the time Richard had finally gotten everyone back to the Valro Caverns, left the newly-formed Crimson Tengu Ravens to celebrate their victory with drinks and cheers (their howls upsetting him just a little), checked on Claire (who had already fallen asleep), and, at last, gotten to the suite he had taken and converted for his own needs in the hotel, he practically felt as if his armor was molded to his skin.

Greymont, naturally, had grown more impatient and antsy as time had gone on, considering how long he had been adhered to him, so he had hardly had time to make sure no one had followed him, shut the door, and begin to move over to his bed before the dragon melted off of him again. Before he even had a chance to collapse onto the mattress —sweaty, smelly, and burned, not to mention still wearing his armor— the dragon had reformed and began to crack and stretch his neck and muscles.

"Man, Boss…. I spend more time stuck to you than on my own."

"Sorry, Greymont, but it can't be helped," Richard groaned, half muffled from his face in his pillow…which he quickly pulled it out of, realizing he wasn't sure how old or filled with mold spores it might be. "I barely got these guys to trust me this far—what're they going to do if they find out my powers come from a dragon?" He weakly waved a hand at Greymont. "You've got the rest of the night off though, I promise."

"Can you make it the rest of the day?" the dragon asked, face innocent.

Richard nearly grimaced: that was right—aside from his earlier nap, he hadn't really "stopped" since breaking into Rycroft, and the sun had been rising when they had finally gotten back to the cavern. In spite of his success, he somewhat dreaded the thought of many more nights like this. He'd probably spend all of his time outside of his armor sleeping….

"How did you know?" he asked after a moment.

"Huh?"

"How did you know how to do that thing you did with my arm, back there?"

The dragon didn't answer right away; he glanced down to his own body, looking it over, then back to Richard. "…Well, if you want to know the truth, I have no idea. I knew how to do it the same way I knew how to speak to you, and that I'm a dragon: the thoughts are just in my head. I don't know why…but that's how it is."

The young man eyed him for a moment, but he supposed that made sense—as much as everything else so far, anyways. He rolled onto his side. "I guess it doesn't really matter…only that I'm glad that particular memory bubbled to the surface when it did. I was kind of dry on ideas."

Greymont smiled, seeming to ignore the praise. "Yeah, but it sounds like your plans are coming together, Boss! At first you were worried you didn't know what you were doing; now you've got a whole bunch of guys following you!"

"Well, starting something is easy," Richard said with a sigh. "Keeping it together long enough that we don't all die horribly is another. That was just a small-time gang compared to the bigger powers in this city, and they nearly got me. Who knows what's going on with this Alec Steel and…" He paused, then shrugged. "…I don't know, maybe these 'Ibis Corps' too, since more and more things are starting to smell like them." He lay there a moment longer, but then let out a sharp breath and started to sit up. "I guess now's a good a time as any to see if this thing Voltaire left me works…."

The prince's eyes drifted to the left corner of his room as he said this: a large, blue machine was seated on an old table—one of the old-model hologram transmitter capsules. Definitely a dinosaur by now, as the like hadn't been sold in fifty years, easily—but that meant no modern networks could easily find or access it, as it was using a different frequency and signal format.

Voltaire and Claire had both been modifying it and the wiring earlier, although Voltaire had put on the finishing touches—a reassuring thing, because Richard wasn't sure they could rely on their multicolor-haired friend (if she was their friend, which Richard wasn't positive of) not to snoop.

After resting a bit longer, the young man pried himself off of the bed and walked over to it. Luckily, these older systems were ridiculously easy to use: just start it up and type in the number. The moment he finished, it produced a low-pitched mechanical sound as it extended upward, exposing and expanding a cavity in the middle.

A few sparks came out —an older hologram technique indicative of its age— then split and expanded, reflecting back into the center, and then formed the outline of Voltaire's head; Richard's friend blinked a few times, seemingly making sure Richard was getting the picture on his end, and then grinned.

"Well, now…since neither of you look badly wounded or traumatized, I take it our debut went fairly well."

"Some things could have gone better, but nothing went terrible," Richard answered. "We took out a group of Hydra Wyverns in the middle of an operation, and it turns out it was a bit bigger than we'd thought—we ended up saving more than just a handful of innocent lives. And we got back without the cops catching onto us, too!" He smiled a bit. "And all without your watchful eye hanging over us!"

"Well, not all of us have the luxury of being believed dead, and therefore having no formal obligations. Just don't forget you're all on my dime, my good man…." Voltaire retorted. After saying that, however, he moistened his lips, seeming hesitant. "You know…that was a little heavy, back there."

Richard blinked. "Huh? 'Heavy' where?"

"Your recruitment speech back in the theater…I didn't say anything before, but correct me if I'm wrong: the main part of all this is to root out what's ruining your dad's administration and the kingdom, am I right? Because for a bit, you made me think you wanted to start a new branch of religion…."

"Oh, give me a break, Voltaire," the young man sighed. "What did you want me to say? 'You're all going to be toadies for the exiled third prince of Aurino'? You think that would have gone over well?"

"You sounded pretty passionate back there —I think I've seen street preachers with less charisma— and you did make a point of picking a fight with Salinger when you found out what he had done, rather than just grabbing that poor bastard and hauling his ass out of there…."

"Hey, like I said," Richard retorted, "the whole reason I'm in this mess in the first place is that sort of thing was allowed to go on too long. After witnessing the side effects of corruption and under-the-table dealings firsthand, you'll forgive me if I'm a little antsy about letting them slide. I'm just doing what Father would have done if he had all his wits about him, and what the Magna Centurions would be taking care of if they were doing their own job!"

Voltaire paused for a moment, but finally shrugged. "Well, no skin off of my nose, so long as we stay on-task. I've got plenty of my own issues to worry about—relocating you and that gang into those caverns, and working out times to tidy it up, and be your personal hologram installer without leaving a trail or arousing suspicion isn't easy. Even with your uncle helping me keep my nose clean, all it takes is one careless blunder.

"But I have some good news: I've got a way to connect the Valro Caverns to the Los Midas sewer network—seems the city was trying to link up to the public utilities before the borough's power plant was sabotaged. It was never finished, but I might be able to propose some new construction; Father was looking to invest in a new subway line, and it'd be easy to shove a 'secret door' in as a line item on the invoice…."

"That sounds fantastic—I love the idea of a backup escape route, so long as the entrance is wide open. I know I've said this before, but…I'm really grateful for your help. I know you've got a lot on the line if you're caught."

"Me?" the red-haired man chuckled. "You're the one who's going out daring hoodlums and thugs to make a hole in that armor of yours while you trust a bunch of gangsters not to take a look at your face while you sleep or just plain knife you. Make sure you don't lose your head in all this.

"Also, I'm a little surprised you're still awake, to be honest."

"I've already got the next move ready," Richard said, changing the subject. "The Hydra Wyverns had two of their top gang members there tonight; I managed to choke out of one of them that their leader is preparing something big in Costa Toro, and they mentioned the Ibis Corps, just like Salinger. I hate to bother you so soon, but as Claire's asleep, and we won't get much out of her until she wakes up, I'm hoping that you can dig up something."

Voltaire nodded back, and looked about to respond, when his eyes suddenly widened, as if he had remembered something. "Don't think you even have to wait for me to do a scan—I've already got an idea what they're after."

The young man looked up. "Really?"

"Earlier this week, they announced an archeological discovery over in one of Costa Toro's oldest villages—Pokarda, or something. Anyways, it's a passage to a temple that links back to the ancient war with the dragons."

"Seriously? What's in it?"

"Not sure," the man answered as he leaned back, crossing his arms. "It's only been a few days. Whatever it is, it's something the locals have apparently known about for a while, but kept secret. Could be anything: some treasure, sealed magic…who knows? I can tell you this much, though: when the Aurino Republic won Costa Toro from the Jiodisan Union, the locals had sided with Jiodisa, and didn't surrender even when they'd sustained worse than fifty percent casualties among their soldiers. The only thing that kept them from being wiped out entirely was the Mandarin of the time surrendering and ceding the land.

"The entrance was found totally by accident. There've been a lot of interested parties since, and the locals have been getting in a larger and larger frenzy. Everyone wants a piece; even my father wants to know what's in it—he's sending an expeditionary team, along with several other investigators."

"Including the Hydra Wyverns." Richard sighed dismally. "And if your family's corporation is there, that means moving around won't be nearly so easy."

"Well, there's always tradeoffs—hiding my involvement will be a problem, yes, but we also gain the edge of being able to get to Costa Toro more easily. On the day we bumped into each other in the museum, I wasn't there fully for a public showing—"

"I kind of guessed that, from the way you were hanging on the ladies."

"Ha-ha. You should do standup…. I was passing along some stone tablets from a recent archeological dig that day. I have more ties to that museum than just purse-strings, you know….

"The point I'm making is: I can easily get my father to let me go to Pokarda on his expeditionary group—and I can get a few extra cargo boxes along for the ride, because you and your new friends seem to take to those so well."

The young man looked a little surprised. "You think you can really arrange all that without anyone getting suspicious?"

"Well, I won't recommend making the mission plan final until I can find out if this is legit, but, if so, I'm sure I can," he answered with a slick look. "If worst comes to worst, I can say I want to crack the whip on our Costa Toro operation. This isn't going to happen immediately, so you don't have to worry about packing right now; until then, get some sleep, my good man. You're starting to look like you belong in a catacomb yourself."

Richard laughed. "Doesn't really matter when I'm always behind a mask, does it? I'll be waiting."

Voltaire made a mock salute, and the hologram image shattered. Richard almost thought that that was a mistake, as long as it had been since he had seen one of these older models running, but when the hologram transmitter capsule closed and deactivated afterwards, he realized it was just turning off normally.

Nevertheless, he gave a bit of a rattled jump when he heard a loud yell through the ceiling; it sounded like Dan's voice, and he snapped up in alarm for a moment before he groaned and realized it was just more spirited celebrations.

"Amazing I can hear him so clearly from this far away; yeah, sleep is a good idea—if everyone quiets down enough for me to get it!"

"Say, Boss," Greymont asked with a tail wag. "Think this Costa Toro place has anything to do with dragons? That I might find out more about myself?"

Richard smiled a bit and nearly answered…when he thought of something.

"You know, Voltaire and I discussed the idea that Zaylor was right over the Droma Catacombs; that there might have been something there that they would have wanted besides just the land and the reactor…and now the name Ibis Corps appears around another site…in another piece of architecture from the days of the dragons…." He shook it off. "I won't promise anything, so don't get your hopes up, but it's not entirely unlikely. Anyways, I'm running on fumes, so I'm going to go ahead and risk sleeping in this fifty-year-old bed…."

Greymont opened his mouth to speak again.

"If you're hungry," Richard cut him off, anticipating the question, then gestured to the corner, where another refurbished fifty-year-old device was running, "there's some burgers Voltaire left us in there; help yourself." He then let out a long yawn as he began to strip off armor pieces and head towards the bed. "Good night."

The dragon smiled as he turned and moved over to the machine, while Richard, exhaustion taking its toll, stumbled over and onto the bed once again. He barely managed to get the rest of his armor pulled off before he went flat on it, his head again going face-down in the pillow. He thought of getting under the covers, but in all honesty, the moment he landed, he didn't want to get up again. He figured he'd just fall asleep like this…

"Uh, Boss?"

Richard's eyes cracked open, and he let out a grunt.

"It's first, open the bag, then eat, right?"

Richard smiled slightly. "You got it."

---

Richard got in a full night of rest before he got up again—although he wasn't exactly sure if one could consider it a "night", with his new schedule and underground location; it was more like "whatever-hours-people-were-up" and "whatever-hours-they-were-down". Voltaire hadn't called back yet, but he didn't want to take it too easy—he feared what might happen if they spent too much time idling, since his group was intent on more action; he had to keep going.

After suiting up again and having Greymont resume his place as the second layer of armor, he headed out to greet the others. Fortunately, they were all still there, even if a few appeared to be nursing intense hangovers.

In spite of that, he decided to start up his offer to teach them various fighting skills. Dan seemed a little insulted at the idea of not knowing how to fight, but Richard quickly corrected that this was to expand their abilities, rather than relearn fighting from scratch, focusing on things such as techniques for stealth, and more advanced combat skills.

Dan was more agreeable to that, but this created an interesting dilemma: Richard wasn't a master himself, not of any particular school or technique. However, he had been at this sort of thing for years, and he had become 'above-average' or even 'advanced' at a number of combat skills.

The first thing he did was try to analyze which of the group even had the potential for magic; it wasn't possible for everyone. They had to have the mana flow, for starters, and then they had to have the right type of mentality.

Even then, most people could only master one particular school or domain —Dan's was obviously transfiguration, and Troy was an enchanter of the enhancement type— while people like his father could master just about anything they got experience with.

In this day and age, if you were fairly good at magic, you usually picked up on it before now, but the late bloomer or one who had slipped through the cracks, especially growing up without the means to develop it, wasn't unheard of. It took a few hours, due to having to start with teaching people how to focus their minds properly, but he eventually discovered that out of the group Hector and Eloy might have enough of the right predisposition to cast spells successfully.

However, he got no further than that—Voltaire contacted him at that point, and informed him that the plan was go. Similar to the Rycroft situation, they were going to be smuggled into Costa Toro in extra cargo crates. There were some further details to iron out, and by that time it was time for lunch, or whatever meal the group was up to. After that, he gave everyone the news on the new mission, and they began to assemble once again.

Richard and the group met in the lobby of the hotel, already looking a good bit more swept and clean since their first arrival (people could actually sit on the furniture without kicking up clouds of dust at this point). Everyone was assembled for a full fifteen minutes and beginning to chat by the time "Jade Hawk" walked in through the front doors, immediately bringing the room into silence as they all looked to him. Voltaire, on his part, glanced around and saw Alphonse was sitting there watching him, but his master was absent.

"Why isn't Claire here?"

"Master Lune insisted that I be her eyes and ears for the mission briefing," the Jaeger Cog answered. "She wished me to explain that she is in the process of dealing with a traumatic headache."

"She didn't have any booze last night," Dan spoke up. "She sick or something? Or is this just more baggage from that asylum?"

"She is not experiencing any physical harm, though she is in a highly emotional state," Alphonse answered.

Voltaire let out a light yawn. "Well, we shouldn't be needing her for this one anyways—not many networks running in places like this to begin with."

"I didn't find out much from Cheng and Hwang's personal computers," Richard continued for him, "but in addition to what they spilled last night, there was a message on both saying to make sure everything was ready for the job in Costa Toro. We've deduced that a likely spot that they would be headed for is a recently-uncovered passage in the village of Pokarda, leading to the ruins of a temple, possibly containing very valuable artifacts or magics of some sort. Our mission is to intercept them and shut down their operation."

There wasn't exactly resounding cheer for this bit of news; in fact, most of the members looked rather uncertain and uneasy about the whole thing.

"Why the hell do we need to go to Costa Toro?" Troy snorted. "That's on the edge of the Aurino Republic—it ain't our turf!"

Richard grimaced a bit under his mask, but kept calm. "I believe I informed you all that we'd be more proactive than Los Midas—we're going after our targets, no matter where they plot their schemes, and giving the message to the gangs and agents of the underworld that, even if they leave this city, they're not out of our jurisdiction. Once word spreads of how the wrath of the Crimson Tengu Ravens can strike anywhere, our legitimacy will grow."

Dan smirked a bit. "Maybe. It'll also make us everyone's target, though…."

"Perhaps—but that would be the case whether we were aiming to be the world's most notorious gang or the world's greatest order for justice. We'll just have to keep a sharp eye on our enemies, and strike them down before they can pose a threat to us."

"Knocking down punks hard and fast when they think they have things under control? That's a bit more like it, Requiem!" Troy threw in. "So, what's the game plan?"

Richard looked to Voltaire at that; the other man merely shrugged in response. "Unfortunately, until we know exactly what they're up to, not much, other than making sure we're in the temple when they get there, and moving fast enough to stop them before they make too much of a mess. As an added incentive, if we do this fast enough, we'll have time to enjoy the beach before we head back."

This got the group more enthusiastic; several grinned and began to sit up at that.

"Just keep in mind," Richard said, clearing his throat and getting their attention again. His voice turned sharp. "Don't think this victory is already in the bag. We had a victory last night, yes, but the Hydra Wyverns are making a serious investment in this job if their leader is going to be with them, and we have no idea of the extent of his power, though it stands to reason he'd be at least a bit stronger than his flunkies. While I'm confident we can win, I'm not so sure what the price of victory will be, so stay on-guard."

"Aw, come on, dude!" Dan smiled. "Think this is the first time we've beaten on these guys? We've got this; hell, we can take them right now, if you're ready!"

"It'll be another hour yet before we can head out," Voltaire interjected. "I'm using my resources to prepare a special group of cargo crates; those of you who head out with us on this mission will get smuggled into the port at Pearl Bay on them. Once there, I'll arrange for you to be shipped as close as I can get you to the temple, past any prying eyes."

Dan's eyes immediately rolled as he groaned. "You're going to cram us into boxes again? This time from port to port? Can't we just take the monorail or something this time?"

Several others nodded or gave similar groans and protests, but Voltaire merely sighed. "Well, if you can find a way to make yourselves invisible to watchmen, cameras, scanners, checkpoints, and the occasional peep into a closed container you're subjected to on those trips, then be my guest.

"Otherwise, you're stuck with what I can get arranged. It won't honestly be that bad—I've had enough time to make sure these containers are a bit more than just boxes this time, and the trip is on the Pellegri—a top-level consumer-class vessel. I'm sure the seating is a tad more painful than the usual flight, but it's not like any of you have ever been on a flight before, right?"

Universal sour frowns greeted the red-haired man at the insinuation; one of them muttered something along the lines of "If you think it's so great, you ride in the damn box". Dan himself seemed to be rather sore about the comment regarding their respective social status backgrounds. Voltaire, seeming to realize his quip had touched a nerve, immediately grimaced and stepped back as Richard spoke up again.

"I'm sure the cargo route will be fine—even if there was a better way, I'd prefer a road more inconspicuous and secret. Just to recap: the plan is to warp to the northern end of Los Midas Port, move into the cargo boxes before they're loaded, get shuttled to Pearl Bay, and then get to Pokarda Village the moment we can move. After that, we find the Hydra Wyverns, shut them down, and get out, all as quietly as we can."

"Well, I reckon that'll boil down to how much of a beating those guys can take before they start bawling for mommy," Troy answered with a neck-crack.

Dan held a bit longer, lingering from Voltaire's comment, but then shrugged. "I'm still itching to pound a few more of them in the face, especially after last night, and I guess the boxes aren't that big of a deal. I may be still on 'interim membership', but I'm in on this—we all are."

Richard nodded. "Then I'll leave it to you to decide who's going on this one, and to prepare. We have one hour before departure."

Dan nodded back, then turned to the others. Almost immediately, there was some dispute over who got to go on this mission—after all, considering the last one had gone rather well for most involved, they were eager just to get moving around and into action again. As this kept them mostly arguing among themselves, Voltaire used the moment to move up to Richard's side.

"I'll leave a box of body-stabilizing digestives near the box, just in case anyone gets seasick. Just make sure you get them to Section D3 at the end of the hour."

The young man continued to stare out at the group. Almost absent-mindedly, he nodded. "All right."

The red-haired man gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Don't go worrying yourself bald—most of these guys seem more than most of the Hydra Wyverns can handle, and you can pick up any slack. Don't do anything stupid, and this should be a cinch."

Richard took in a deep breath, still not looking away. "We'll see."

---

The next hour went pretty smoothly after the initial dispute of who had to stay back. Troy was again coming along, and, in spite of his misgivings, Richard realized the man was good in a fight. Dan was also coming again, but at this point, Richard was pretty sure that wherever any of his boys went, their former leader would be along for the ride. He was pretty happy about the rest of the setup, mostly people he had worked with before: Zach, Hector, and Eloy. The only new blood in the group, at least for Richard, was one rough-around-the-edges member named Rocky.

Once again, they were all supplied with gear, and Voltaire was also able to provide them with the layouts of Costa Toro and the village of Pokarda, although his information about the layout of the archeological site itself was lacking. He even found time to check in on Claire, but all he got for his efforts was a closed door and a loud yell to leave her alone. In spite of the irritation behind it, Richard couldn't help but notice it sounded as if she was ill. He wasn't sure if it was from all of the junk food she had been gorging herself on, or something else, but in the end he left her to Alphonse.

Soon after, they took a warp spell to the Northern Midas port, snuck in the top window of one of the warehouses, and quickly located what Voltaire had left them: crates stuffed with pillows and a tray of green potions for repressing motion sickness. Within minutes, they were again loaded in and then put on-board the Pellegri.

It was easy enough to make sure that everyone was in and somewhat comfortable using the Codec: Troy was a bit sore (as usual), especially since this was his first time squeezing into a box, but Dan seemed to be in a good enough mood, and was actually telling jokes.

On that note, Richard got himself situated and decided to rest his eyes a bit longer. It was therefore a bit of a shock to him when he had seemed to barely close his eyes before he felt the ground drop a bit underneath him, and realized it was the ship descending: he had slept an additional five hours on the way to Pearl Bay.

…I didn't realize I was running on so many fumes. I've got to watch it….

It seemed to take much longer than it actually did, not only for the ship to land, but for the loaders to put the boxes into their proper places; Richard timed it at twenty minutes, but the amount of anxiety involved made it seem to last a lot longer to him—not for their safety, for Richard trusted Voltaire, but for what would come after it. —And none of them knew exactly how long they'd have to wait. Eventually, however, Voltaire gave the signal over the Codec that they could disembark.

A few rounds of breaking-packaging later, the group exited without a hitch, with the exception of some light cramping. Richard immediately took in their surroundings: definitely better-lit than Rycroft Asylum. The warehouse they were in this time might have been a lot smaller, but it looked fairly new and still had the scents of construction about it.

It had windows, too, ones that were mounted high and letting in a good deal of sunshine from a blue sky. It was almost cheery for a place to store cargo. They quickly went to one of the rear doors and stepped outside. Luckily, this area seemed to be either new or poor enough that there weren't sophisticated electronic locks or alarms.

A large window pane greeted them, even if it only faced the back of the warehouse. Outside was quite the change from Los Midas: whereas that area was dry and hot, this was a different kind of warmth, especially in regards to humidity.

They were well away from the coast, and the back of the warehouse didn't really offer much in the way of a view other than a pathway leading around and a look at resident tropical foliage, but one could hear the seabirds even from here, as well as the distant sounds of the larger crashing waves, and the smell of salt hung in the air. The sun seemed to be a lot brighter and warmer, but the sky was also nice and clear, free from the haze of smog and the constant sounds of commerce.

Dan gave a whistle. "Well, I'll be—isn't this nice!"

Richard could have wished for a bit more cover, and less sunlight exposing him, but he still looked to Dan. "Haven't you ever been to a place like this?"

"Oh, sure," he snorted. "I vacation to the tropics every winter, and go to a nice ski resort every summer. Of course not, man! Where the hell do you think me and the boys would find the money to travel? Most of us moved to Los Midas as kids, and then we were stuck there; our idea of 'vacation' is a night at a three-star hotel. At any rate…" He laced his fingers and cracked them behind his head. "…it feels like lovely weather for a beatdown."

"I'd say a Jiodisan Sunrise, myself, but…eh. To each their own…."

Richard recognized that voice immediately, but the others were not nearly as familiar with it, and they instantly snapped to the voice with weapons drawn and warning cries. However, they all immediately stopped: Jade Hawk was the one who had spoken, calmly walking around the corner of the building as he did so. He had switched his white coat out for a similar color but lighter material, but other than that was the same now as he had been earlier.

Dan eased up but grimaced. "Why, hello there—nice to see you," he sarcastically quipped. "Where were you while the rest of us were loaded like cattle on a meat train?"

Voltaire shrugged. "Someone had to get you all in here, didn't they? Anyways, I apologize for this flight not being first-class seating, but we all have to make do with what we can get on short notice. Tell you what: anyone with back trouble will get a free visit to a chiropractor, my treat."

"How kind of you," Dan said with a snort, "but I think I'll live. So long as you're here, how about pointing out where and when this is going down?"

"Not just yet." Voltaire indicated into the distance. "My sources have informed me that various news agencies are currently stationed outside the main entrances, getting ready for a press release. While I'm aware we're trying to make a name for ourselves, I don't think you all want to confer with NES reporters yet, no?"

Richard nodded. "Fine—then we'll lay low until dark, then move to Pokarda. With the Dragon Lenses Scanners using infrared, it shouldn't be more than a thirty-minute jog, and we'll have directions."

"Aw, you've got to be kidding me," Troy grumbled, spitting. "First we spent half the day waiting around, and now we've got to wait even more? I thought you wanted to beat them there…?"

"That'd be nice, but if we don't know what move they're making first, it's a waste of time; we only know they'll be here, not exactly what they'll be doing," Richard answered.

Before the big man could protest further, Voltaire added more: "We're here to fight gangsters, not the local police. Besides, you shouldn't get too bent out of shape—there's a hotel at the port with a nice pool. I don't think Costa Toro cares so much about random Los Midas crime incidents as to go looking for suspects around here…."

Zach looked up a bit more at that. "Seriously? Well, heck…why didn't you say so? That's awesome; sounds like a party!"

"There is a bar, but I'd think going into a mission where dying is an option would be incentive enough not to drink," the other man answered. "Now, then, gentlemen, if you would follow me…."

In just a few moments, the group had left the storage area, migrated through a hallway or two, and made it to a glass elevator—definitely not one for freight. This was a bit too much in the open for Richard's tastes: even if the gang would mix in with everyone else well enough, his armor stuck out like a sore thumb. He just hoped that Voltaire knew what he was doing as he squeezed them all onto the one platform and pushed the up button.

As they rose out of the building and skywards, the stone walls gave way to glass panels, allowing them to look out and around to see the coastal port of Pearl Bay. —Definitely not as high-tech as Los Midas, let alone Articos; the area around the coast was still occupied by older-style dwellings that were practically huts, although as one migrated into the city the houses gradually grew larger and more sophisticated.

Still, the area wasn't nearly as cramped or built-up as a major urban area, and, with the place surrounded on all sides by tropical trees and vegetation, foliage that mostly looked to be native, and with even more growing in between buildings here and there, this was definitely the sort of place that most of the Crimson Tengu Ravens had never seen before.

As they rose, a clearing the in trees farther from the coast became visible; Voltaire pointed at it. "Now, that over there is Pokarda village. That's not the village itself you're seeing —that's long since been overgrown— but there's a freshwater lake there. They say humanity built it there to escape the wrath of the dragons. Since it's covered with trees, getting to and from it without being seen shouldn't be a problem."

Dan, however, seemed to be more focused with the approaching rooftop. "Hey, you weren't kidding—this place does have a pool! I haven't been in one in years, and that one smelled like sewer backup…."

The elevator came to a halt a moment later, giving a ding as the doors opened. Dan immediately stepped out, motioning for the others to follow behind. "Aw, sweet! They should make more port-hotel combos! Come on, guys—let's see what kind of grub they got here for a pre-victory feast!"

Both Richard and Voltaire were nearly trampled as the gang quickly pushed out and around them, trying to get clear as soon as possible. He nearly protested, but upon seeing it would do no good and that they were already too far gone, he looked around to make sure no one looked suspicious.

Seeing a mother to his right collecting her children's clothes and handing them to her husband, so they could swim while he checked into the room, and that all the other guests nearby looked extremely unlikely to be hostiles, Richard relaxed a little, and merely moaned. "Just don't go too far, and make sure you keep your uniforms hidden. We're leaving as soon as I give the go."

He could only hope some of them caught that as they ran out like kids at the zoo. He grimaced a bit beneath his mask as they left.

Eventually, his vision was cut off as Voltaire motioned with something to him. He blinked and looked, and saw he was being offered a white cloak. He looked down to it, then back up to Voltaire.

"I like black."

"Don't be an idiot—it's already weird enough that you'll be at a tropical port concealed in a full-body cloak," Voltaire answered, almost throwing it into his hands. "Don't make it worse by wearing black and getting yourself cooked in that armor like an oversized steak fry!"

Grimacing a bit, Richard accepted the garment, and began to put it on as he got out. Voltaire, meanwhile, watched as the last of the gang went around a corner, sighing all the while. "I told the staff to put them on my tab, but I'm sort of wondering how much of my private resources they plan to blow on food and drink…and all we need is one of them to start a fight…. You'll be there to 'chaperone' alone—I've got the usual social obligations."

Richard quirked a brow. "Are you still going to be able to join us if you've got to let your corporation know where you are?"

"My dad knows full well that part of the deal of me making these appearances for him is that I get time to myself—how else do you think I got my reputation?" he answered slyly. "And I've been meaning to meet this one gal here for months. If things go well, I might be in for a bonus on this one…. Let's just hope our boys stick to the plan."

"They've proved they can fight; they've proved they can take orders…" Richard answered as he pulled the hood over his head. "…what else is there to prove?"

"How about that they're trustworthy? They don't exactly seem to be the most 'loyal' types to total strangers. What if things get hard on them? Or boring? You're starting to make more enemies, you know—some of whom are rich. And one of them already sold out the rest of their friends…."

Richard sighed. "Any other stressful thoughts you want to put in my head? They all seem to find that Blackberry person to be the worst kind of scum, which means they don't approve of such an action. Besides, they don't have anywhere else to go for now. They're better than you think—just because they're gang members doesn't mean they don't have conviction…or something like that."

A yell suddenly rang out up ahead, from just around the corner. Both men turned, both realizing that sounded like one of their group. They quickly picked up their pace, and advanced to round the corner, and looked down to find that Dan and Troy had confronted a pair of tall, tan-skinned men, apparently on their way to the pool.

They were getting into some sort of argument, although from this distance all that Richard could make out was that it had something to do with Electro Ball teams. It seemed to be getting a little testy for a while, before Troy suddenly snapped his arm up and took a swing at the face of one of them. Quickly, Dan intervened, putting himself between the two and pushing Troy back, while the two men grew furious at what had just happened and shouted louder.

Voltaire turned to Richard with a dour expression. "I'd prefer if one of their convictions was not starting a public brawl while on a mission."

"I never said they were ideal, but they're workable, all right?" Richard shrugged, trying to suppress his own anxiety at what had nearly happened. "Play the hand you're dealt, right, Voltaire?"

He smiled a bit. "I guess you're right. Just keep a lid on them as best you can; I don't have that much sway at a place like this." He walked by and headed along, but before he got more than a few steps, he paused and looked back to Richard. "And keep in mind that a good investor knows when he's gotten all he's going to out of his stock purchase," he threw out, giving one last hand-wave as he did so. After that, he turned forward and walked on once again, soon passing Dan and Troy as the former managed to push the latter aside and the two men quickly walked away.

Richard continued to watch both of them for a bit longer, not exactly looking at-ease beneath his mask. He only had so many options available to him as it was; he couldn't afford to 'sell', as Voltaire might put it…but not only did he not care for the brawling, there was also the fact that Voltaire was having so many misgivings as of late….

Hey, Boss, Greymont spoke up, obviously picking up on his thoughts, you aren't thinking Voltaire will betray us, are you?

No; not unless he's changed more than I expected, Richard thought back, but I'm going to drive myself nutty if I keep thinking everyone around me is going to blow this for me. He began to move as well. I need to do something to get my mind off of things for a while—no telling how much of our wits we'll need about us for this mission.

How about fishing? the dragon suggested. I'm starving….

Richard looked outside the window before responding uneasily, Let's just see how things go, Greymont. For one thing, unless you use magic, it can take quite a while—and besides, last time, I nearly got the fishing hook stuck in my hand. I think it would be easier to just order some fish….

---

Luckily, there was plenty of fish available here, it being a coastal city and all, and of better-than-average quality: sushi-grade tuna, salmon, and many other, more exotic, flavors. Richard actually had a chance to enjoy them and covertly let Greymont eat his fill when the rest of the Crimson Tengu Ravens calmed down and decided to hang around the poolside bar; some of them even made up after the earlier argument and bought him some drinks, which naturally put him and the others into a much better mood, as did the bar's hologram player putting on the latest Electro Ball match. With things more at-ease, Richard was able to breathe easier as well.

Shortly after managing to discretely feed Greymont the last of the fish, he got a buzz on the Codec. It was Voltaire, and he announced it was time to move. Fresh tension rising, Richard drew himself up from the table and made the rounds to the others. It only took a bit of nudging to get them all to wrap things up and follow him out.

Luckily, Costa Toro was sparsely populated—after all, in the last war, the place had nearly been bombed into oblivion, and the place was still recovering from the population loss that had resulted. Even with it still sunny out, the group was able to quickly maneuver their way from the port to the treeline.

From there, there was nothing more than one or two random shacks in between them and Pokarda Village—and while the area may have been overgrown, all of the recent activity had served to clear most of the animals, including the more deadly wildlife, away. True to Voltaire's calculations, they managed to arrive in just half an hour.

"Village", of course, was a bit of a misnomer by that date—the structures that had been made out of stone in years past were still standing, but most of those were simply foundations, and many of these had been reclaimed and overgrown by the jungle years ago themselves.

Only a few had been uncovered, and, as the group neared, Richard realized what he had mistaken for odd, misshapen rocks in the path were likely more bits of the overgrown ruins; if he didn't already know there had been an ancient village this way, he would have never have thought it.

At any rate, there wasn't much activity here, other than a few markers, and bits of equipment from surveying crews—it seems most of the interested parties had come and gone through here already.

Eventually they made their way fully out into the clearing, and up to a hill that seemed to have been made in either a religious or cultural center of some point, or so the young man guessed. The trees fully gave way here to reveal more exposed ruins, and, standing in the midst, arms crossed and waiting for them, was Voltaire.

"Nice of you all to be so punctual—we can only afford so much time in a place like this."

Richard quickly looked around before responding with, "Thankfully, no one got suspicious—though you guys do have to learn to control your passions. Really, now—is the honor of being the fan of a sports team really worth the risk of blowing everything?"

Dan chuckled. "Man, you're way too uptight, Requiem. That was nothing—we were just having a manly interaction to showcase our passions; it may have got physical, but it's a sign of respect. You really don't know much in the ways of the street, eh, dude?"

Richard just coughed before he turned back to Voltaire and threw out, curious, "So, how's the situation? Have the Hydra Wyverns shown up yet?"

"I only got here five minutes ago myself, so I don't have a solid answer," the red-haired man replied, "but I heard from more than one source that there were a lot more people than expected asking about the uncovered grotto. A lot of them weren't local or with the local groups. Joachim Industries and the rest don't conduct any official surveys until tomorrow—that means any tomb raiders have to move in tonight at the latest."

He gestured behind him with a thumb. "Now, there are a few security personnel guarding the entrance, but I've looked at them, and I don't trust them to stop anyone with enough determination to get in…say, someone with a simple firearm. So, for starters, it might be a good idea just to stake out the entrance, see if someone comes by who's too much for them, then—"

A scream cut Voltaire off from farther ahead, towards the hills on the periphery of the abandoned village, and where, Richard assumed, the path led into the grotto. Immediately, he snapped his head up to the source, along with several of the others. Voltaire also turned around in alarm, and rapidly raised a hand to his own Dragon Lenses scanner, typing into it a few times.

As for Richard, he honestly felt a bit uncomfortable on hearing the scream. This wasn't the first scream he had ever heard before; he had heard ones of anger; ones of wrath; ones of panic—and this one? This one was something different; something far deeper, and more unsettling. He didn't think he had ever heard a human make that kind of noise before. It was definitely one of fear —and pain— but more horrible than any cry he thought a person could make…

Dan sneered. "Sounds like those rent-a-cops weren't nearly good enough. Let's go give the rest of their gang the beating they missed out on last night!"

The rest of the gang muttered approval, and nearly took off without Richard or Voltaire. The latter two snapped out of it a moment later, quickly getting into the lead.

That scream…. It must have shaken Richard up worse than he'd thought; normally he'd be leading the charge, eager to get in there and fight to put a stop to whoever had caused that. —Yet now he found himself forcing his body to pick up to full speed….

Um…Boss? Greymont murmured after a moment. That, too, made Richard feel a bit uneasy—he hadn't heard Greymont talk like that before. The dragon seemed on-edge, even worse than he felt. Something's…not right.

What do you mean? Richard asked.

I'm smelling something I've never smelled before… the dragon uneasily answered. It stinks…and not like garbage. Like…I don't know. It just…it makes me feel… There was a pause. …Angry.

Richard didn't like the sound of that. He was about to ask for more details when he heard not one, but two more screams. These ones were just like the first, and not only he but everyone else with him visibly slowed down. Frustrated by his own hesitation, Richard gritted his teeth and pushed on—he didn't have time for cold feet now.

Once down the hill, the group didn't have to go much farther before they fell into the shadow of the other hills. A bit further than that, they passed the remains of a very large, very old tree that had been pried apart and uprooted not too long ago.

It exposed a fairly big tunnel behind it—large enough to drive a full-sized hovertruck in and out, if need be, and leading right into a dark opening. It was also flattened over at the front—a platform had been built across the tree roots and uneven ground to move vehicles in and out. This had to be the entrance to the grotto.

Richard noticed something else as well, the same as the rest of them: three guards, two men and one woman. All were on the ground, and all had large blast holes in their chests from plasma rifles still smoking.

Richard's face tightened as he let his anger fuel him, drawing his sword and rapidly advancing.

Voltaire followed, but he frowned as he continued to press buttons on his scanner. "I'm not hearing anything on the local channels. Given the fact that we heard that first scream, there should have been something before we heard the other two—that means they're being jammed, which is more than a little disturbing—jammers aren't exactly cheap, being illegal, and they're certainly not within the scope of a Los Midas gang's wallet…."

"Ah, shut up," Troy grumbled, spitting as he often did. "The only thing to worry about there is smashing it along with whoever's heads are around it."

Voltaire rolled his eyes, but continued to follow Richard as he led the way across the platform, and towards the darkness of the tunnel itself. He nearly reached to his own scanner to activate infrared, but he stopped, seeing the electric lighting that had already been run through on cables and installed in the rock walls and ceiling. Not only that, but it afforded an excellent view of what was lingering around the mouth of the cave…namely, blood.

Lots and lots of blood. Richard hadn't seen the like since the incident in Zaylor; just seeing it made him sick to his stomach and gave him a violent chill. Even the hardened gang members among him didn't like the sight of it.

They didn't get too much farther before the cave ceased to be a rock tunnel altogether and rapidly expanded into a much wider cavern, with far more lighting, and a far more horrific sight: the source of the blood. In the passage ahead, littered around the entrance and the inside of the cavern, were the rest of the security staff, as well as whatever other people unfortunate enough to have been in the chamber.

Richard actually ground to a halt, and, if one was close enough to his armor, they would have heard his breathing pick up and his heart race. The other gang members nearly pushed on, but in the end halted as well. The younger ones paled and trembled; even Dan swallowed, looking sick to his stomach.

Now memories really did come back; Richard had a hard time ignoring the sounds of people screaming from Zaylor —and, for that matter, the savage bloodlust on Bolton Steiner's face as he cut people down left and right— as he looked at these bodies.

The corpses weren't of people simply killed—one had been slashed so deep that the body had folded backward around it; another looked like the head had been cut off with a dull cleaver. Yet another looked like it had been smashed into, and nearly through, a pillar.

The group remained silent, surveying the bloodbath for a few moments. These weren't hired guns, like outside; this was just outright massacre. Finally, Dan's own nausea seemed to subside as he replaced it with fury. Richard honestly couldn't tell if he was actually being enraged, or him having learned to replace any feelings of dread or horror with anger in order to survive, but it definitely empowered him again.

"There's robbing a place, and then there's being a sick freak. These grotesque bastards don't deserve to live."

Voltaire, probably the least accustomed to the sight of blood of all of them, cupped his hand to his mouth to keep from gagging, or at least block out the stench a moment. When he pulled it back, he looked even more uneasy than before. "I'm not a forensics expert…but I don't think these bodies were mutilated, just…killed with something very large, very quickly, and that left this behind."

"But…but why?" Zach asked, uneasily shying away from a puddle of blood leaking out towards his feet. "There couldn't have been a mob hit going on in here or anything, right? And if they wanted just to steal stuff, why do this?"

Richard swallowed a bit, taking a couple deep breaths. He couldn't lose his cool now; whatever had done this was likely still here, after all…. As boldly as he could, trying to remember he was a demon of vengeance, and not a young man in a costume trying not to remember a bloodbath from a couple weeks ago, he began to move on again, reluctantly leading the others. "Some of these bodies look too violently assaulted to have been killed by any human…well…" He grimaced. "…almost any human. They might have a bio-monster with them."

"Hey, assholes!" Troy suddenly bellowed out, his voice booming so loud that it echoed far and deep into the cavern. "You ain't saving yourself, hiding behind a bunch of critters! Get out here and fight like a man!"

Richard instantly snapped to him with narrowed eyes. "Are you out of your mind!? We still had the element of—"

The young man cut himself off: he wasn't sure if it was due to Troy's bragging, or someone had simply been hiding until that point, but he saw a trace of red light suddenly pierce through the darkness of the cave, refracting off of ambient dust. He recognized it immediately as a laser sight, and he watched it trace over to Zach's head.

"Get down!" Richard shouted as he immediately barreled forward and tackled the Crimson Tengu Raven, yanking him to the ground. He heard the sound of a plasma bolt erupt from an unseen weapon a moment later, right before feeling it ding off the side of his helmet. As the two smashed to the ground, and the rest of the group snapped up in alarm, Richard knew that, if he had been a fraction of a second slower, Zach's brains would have been cooked.

Dan quickly gave the shout: "Ambush!"

More shots flew out from the darkness, but the gang moved too quickly; they had instantly scattered, everyone going for cover. Richard quickly yanked Zach to his feet along with himself, and shoved him to go to one side while he fled to another.

Those with guns among them quickly whipped out their own firearms; Voltaire immediately formed a gesture to get his tri-bow to pop into existence, snatched it, and started to load it. Moments later, their own shots went out…and hit nothing. Most of them were firing wildly to begin with, and the assassin was able to return fire. Richard quickly performed the Aura Edge technique to ignite his blade, knowing that the slight illumination wouldn't reveal him. He nearly moved to try and tap his scanner when another shot fired, aimed at him this time.

Richard had just enough time to cross his blade before him and use the edge to repel the shot back at the attacker. To his surprise, all it impacted a moment later was a cavern wall.

These guys are a bit smarter and faster than normal grunts… Richard thought as he saw the laser sights shift to the others—apparently, the shooters realized they couldn't hurt Richard, and so they weren't bothering to try.

However, around this time Voltaire had finished nocking his first bolt as he took position behind a rock formation. Moistening his lips a bit, he looked out from behind it, to quickly judge where the fire was coming from.

After that, he took two deep breaths, then snapped up and around, firing a shot out into the darkness. Richard recognized the spell he chanted when he said it: Nitro Arrow, the same one that had flattened him into a wall once before.

As with his other "trick" arrows, a snap of light quickly ignited this one, and a moment later it landed right in the midst of the area. Richard then realized Voltaire had been telling the truth —that that one back at the manor had indeed been a "weak" one— for the blast that resounded this time was so loud and piercing in the confined cave that each of the Crimson Tengu Ravens actually recoiled and covered their ears in alarm. Yet that was nothing compared to what happened to the attackers as a massive eruption bathed the entire dark spot in fire. One muffled male voice screamed some unintelligible word, while a flaming body, still flailing, went flying to the right.

Dan blinked twice, and then pulled himself up from under his own cover; the others quickly followed suit, seeing nothing but a diminishing fireball where their attackers had been. He grinned. "Man, you've got some sweet—"

"Dan! Behind you!" Richard cut him off in a yell.

The former gang leader immediately turned, and saw a figure suddenly spring out of the shadows, trying to stab him from behind. Dan quickly backpedaled while chanting his Shield Arm spell, and a moment later whipped his broad, metal limb in front of him, letting his attacker's weapon ding off of it harmlessly. The blond-haired man, Richard, and the others then got a brief look at this new figure.

Apparently their enemy had a taste for costumes as well: the armor they wore was definitely more high-tech and close-fitting than Richard's own archaic suit, more along the lines of what a soldier, or even a lesser Magna Centurion, would wear. The weapon they had tried to stab Dan with a glaive like claw one on the back of each hand. Their helmet was clearly custom-made; while it seemed multi-purposed, providing protection against metal and gaseous weapons alike —the latter displayed in the form of disposable air filters— and was undoubtedly equipped with infrared sensors, it had also been designed to look intimidating, like a twisted ogre's or goblin's face. To top it off, the ominous figure had a black cloak covering most of the rest of their outfit.

The assailant cursed in some other language, not expecting to be stopped so soon. Immediately, Richard advanced on them, bringing his sword back to deliver a stab of his own. The figure snapped to him and quickly backpedaled away from Dan as they brought one hand around to grasp their left gauntlet where its glaive weapon was mounted; Richard heard some sort of device click right before the figure brought their arm back and swung it around over their head.

To his surprise, the glaive flew out of it, trailing a whip-like length of razor wire with metal thorns out behind it in a large arc. Richard, forgetting about Greymont, immediately froze in midstep and swung his body back to evade it; Dan and everyone else nearby quickly ducked as well to keep their heads from being cut off.

As the wire finished coming around, however, the attacker snapped their other glaive up and did something with it. With a pair of clicks, the gauntlet retreated, revealing two gun barrels. They snapped their arm up and soon discharged a pair of point-blank plasma blasts at Richard, which dinged harmlessly off the young man's armor.

The mysterious figure quickly snapped the gun around and fired a flurry of plasma bolts, forcing both Richard and Dan to quickly make themselves into living shields, intercepting the shots before they could hit the less-armored members of the group. This wasn't just an act of chaos: as the figure fired into the group, Voltaire was left isolated to one side, and they quickly snapped up their other arm, trying to take off his head.

They failed. Dan quickly shot forward in a break in the fire, and lashed out with his armored hand, reverting it to a normally-shaped —but still metal— arm before seizing the razor-wire near the end. In a snap, he twisted his hand, wrapping a length of the whip around it, then gave a sharp tug to startle the assailant into facing him.

The masked man tried to pull back, only to indicate clear shock with his body language as he saw that not only was Dan not being cut by the wire, but was holding himself steady. They looked up, and saw Dan grinning at them.

"Nice toys, but you play too rough. Time-out!"

He chanted again, morphing his other limb into the Turbo Knuckle piston. The figure tried to move, but was far too close. A moment later, the arm came around and discharged full-force into their face. The mask shattered as if it was nothing more than glass, and their weapon sheared in half from Dan's grip as the power ripped the figure back and slammed them into the wall; they collapsed to the floor a second later. If the man revealed by the shattering of the helmet was still alive, there was no way he'd ever chew solid food again.

Richard himself straightened, taking in a deep breath after all that. He heard a shout from one side, and turned his head slightly, seeing the still-enflamed man from earlier running towards him. Frowning a bit, he swung out the back of his hand as he neared, and instantly dropped the flame-cloaked assassin to the ground. After that, he put a bit more power into his sword and swung it over the man's body, snuffing the flames, and once they were gone he quickly took note of this one's getup: the same as the one Dan had just knocked out.

Voltaire seemed to note the same thing. "Unless they suddenly got a hold of a great deal of money and access to more advanced equipment —to say nothing of military-level training— it's highly unlikely these two are Hydra Wyverns." He moved over to the side of the one Richard had extinguished, extending the tip of his boot and pulling him over a bit. On the chest plate, he noticed a small symbol.

Voltaire looked up to Dan afterward, who, picking up on what Jade Hawk had said, reverted his arms to normal before moving forward and yanking his own man up. The symbol was there as well, this one a bit less singed.

Richard frowned, looking around a bit more in case more surprise attacks were coming. "Well…there's only one other name that got thrown around there. I wonder if we just encountered the 'Ibis Corps' for the first time…."

"They certainly fit the bill for trained mercenaries," Voltaire answered as he shook soot off his foot.

Dan shrugged. "He was a bit tougher than the standard dude, but nothing I can't take. You're not getting cold feet on account of them being here, are you?"

The masked man sighed. "I'm not—I'm just pointing out that it's more vital than ever that we don't go in 'guns blazing'. There's no telling if they have more sentries out like these two, or booby traps."

Troy frowned a bit, but seemed to acquiesce to this. "Fine. We'll charge through; we'll just do it real slow-like. Leave the next one for me, Nicholson."

Richard grimaced beneath his face plate, but led on once again. He kept his sword out and the Aura Edge blazing this time.

After rounding the area of the explosion, the scent of blood began to grow stronger, and the path narrowed again, becoming more twisted. It seemed to be little better than a natural, narrow cave passage, a lot like the one where Richard found Greymont.

He could have done without those memories as the light of day faded behind them, and the electrical lighting gave the impression of being buried alive in a dark, foreboding place; cold, clammy, damp, and inhospitable…not to mention littered with more blood splatters and the occasional corpse.

The hallways not only twisted and turned, but sloped up and down. The bodies started being mixed with bits of smoking rubble as well: some sort of major fight had to have broken out…for all the good it had done the defenders. Finally, the pathway began to widen again into a short cave series, then made a turn into an area Richard could see widened even further.

He slowly advanced a bit more before he suddenly heard voices shouting out. Based on the youth and eagerness of them, he assumed they were the quarry they had originally come for; the Hydra Wyverns. He quickly halted and put up a fist to signal to the Ravens.

The rest fell in behind him and went still, assembling and readying for action. Once they were all right behind him, Richard advanced more slowly, moving to the edge of the cave wall and all the way up to the turn in the path. Once there, he slowly stuck his head out and turned it around the corner.

It appeared they had found that temple. Most of it seemed either built or carved directly into the surrounding rock, much as the Dromos Catacombs had been, and the temple itself stood out with a greenish hue, as if it had been carved out of raw jade.

This one was much more heavily ornamented than the temple Richard had gone into, although he saw no emblems or pictures on this one; there were more extravagant trims and turned-up edges on corners and awnings instead. A large pair of stone doors guarded the entrance, but something had recently cut through the rock hinges to open them, rather than wasting any time or thought on puzzles.

There were also a lot of people around, many of them looking like they were from Los Midas, and bearing the colors and style of the Hydra Wyverns they had run into last night. In addition to them, there were another set of people present. These ones, however, were dead, and piled up in front of the temple entrance. The bloodbath here had been so extensive that the people had been summarily put to one side, like trash or boxes, to make room.

One of the members stood tall above the others in the center. He was slightly tanned, bore dragon tattoos on one arm, and had dyed his long hair purple before arranging it in a stylish ponytail that was more akin to the current Jiodisan fashions than Aurino.

Two sheathed swords were attached to his black jeans, and he surveyed everything with a grim look as he stroked his goatee. Based on his appearance and how the others seemed to react to him, Richard deduced that this had to be their leader; perhaps the one Cheng had kept talking about last night.

One of the gangsters was practically salivating at the temple. "Would you look at that; would you look at that! Just an armful of this jade would have us all set for next year! We're gonna be richer than any gang in Los Midas after tonight! Hell, even the Diamond Don might say the real underworld kingpin is Genjuro Jyunichi!"

As Richard inched closer, he saw that the Hydra Wyvern gang members were looking at the dead bodies that had been piled up near the entrance. Before Richard could react, one of the gangsters suddenly yelled wildly, "Oh man, this is turning out great, Boss! The Hydra Wyverns are gonna be wealthier than any other gang in Los Midas after tonight!"

The big man grunted. "So long as the message gets back, we'll have more than money, Tetsuo. After hearing about this, even the Diamond Don will have to say Genjuro Jyunichi and his Hydra Wyverns are the best enforcers in Los Midas and beyond. And if he doesn't…" He snorted as he glared at the bodies. "…what he'll get will make what these thieves received look like a spa treatment!"

"Hey, Genjuro…" One of the gang members spoke up, indicating to the temple, "…there might be more loot on the inside, but…how we going to get it all out?"

"Any way you can—even if we have to move on to the rest of this damn town first!" He spat. He gestured around. "Everything you see here is ours by right; there isn't an inch of land here that wasn't stolen by the Aurino Kingdom from the Jiodisan Union. I don't want anything left behind." He turned his head slightly. "Now, then…is this all of them?"

"Just two more who I thought we could keep around for a bit more fun." One of the gangsters grinned. He gestured a bit behind him: a group of his comrades had tied up and were holding two additional victims, these ones dressed like the civilians piled in the corners.

Both were female, and while one was a teenager and the other an adult, they were both on the young side. They also earned a few more crude looks and leers from the other men around them: the gangsters clearly had more than money on their minds. Both of the civilians were trembling and cringing.

"P-p-please…" one of them pleaded shakily, "w-we just kept the temple clean! We weren't with the men or the foreigners! Please just let us—"

She was cut off by Genjuro, who advanced on her and slapped her across the face. The teenager burst out in tears, crying loudly, before he slapped her as well to shut her up.

"Keep your mouths shut, you stupid sows!" he snapped. "Playing innocent with Jiodisans, after you sat on this treasure for all those years and never turned it over to us? For years, the empire gave you protection, education, health care, and aid! And this is how you repay their generosity? By holding out on us this vast wealth? By taking up arms against us when we take what is rightfully ours? You and the rest of these ungrateful, unclean locals are traitors to Jiodisa—and there is only one verdict for traitors!"

Further cries came from inside the temple. Richard realized he had to move—they had been too slow to save most of these people, he realized, but they could at least save these two women, and put a stop to these psychopaths right now. Troy looked ready to burst out right now; Richard started to send more power into his own sword, readying to put a stop to this.

Before anyone could do anything else, however, the entire cavern was violently rocked with a colossal, echoing tremor as the entire left wall of the front of the temple exploded. Similar to what had happened when Voltaire fired his Nitro Arrow, a pair of bodies went flying violently out from the blast, both wreathed in flame. Unlike with him, however, they were also launched through the air and smashed into the back of the cave, immediately breaking apart and falling to the ground in flaming bits. Richard froze in shock. The others did the same, gaping at what had just happened.

The wall itself continued to deteriorate, bits and pieces of it continuing to break off and fall to the ground as the rumbles slowly died. By now, a number of the wimpier Hydra Wyvern members were cringing as much as the women they had captured were doing; the bolder ones were grinning confidently, although not terribly so—even they seemed to have some lingering fears. Only Genjuro seemed fully confident: he looked into the hole in the wall as fire spread out from it and burnt around the opening.

"Ah—there's our comrades who made this all possible," he said, before calling out into the opening, "Damn, you really do move fast, don't you? I didn't know what to expect from your group's reputation, but it seems you live up to it very well. I expected it would take longer to remove the remaining defenses."

Richard swallowed a bit, wondering what would be coming next. As he did, the fires continued to slowly lick their way out of the temple, and he heard it: it sounded almost like huge metal weights being dropped on the ground, one after another, but after a moment he realized it was footsteps.

A great, dark silhouette came forth through the smoke before the actual figure stepped out of the shadows, sweeping the vapor aside and emerging into the electric lighting. The young man had thought he had known intimidation from staring at the full wraths of Steiner and Orion, and suspected there was far worse hidden inside his father. However, to his own unease and fear, he realized this figure was far more imposing than anything he had seen yet.

Much like Steiner, this being was a giant, eight feet tall, and hulking with muscle…or at least Richard assumed so—he couldn't really tell for sure, because the figure's armor was far more ornate and cruel-looking than the suits the Ibis Corps soldiers had been wearing—it was thickly plated and covered with spikes, many of them hooked, making this one look like a great, thorny agent of pain, rather than a human.

The figure was almost completely concealed by it, much as Richard was, and if one didn't know any better, they might jokingly claim this was a parent of the smaller armored figures based on their respective appearances. The helmet was not made to resemble a demon of any sort, however; it was shaped as a black human skull.

The only openings in it were two blazing eyes that seemed at first to be identical to Richard's own lenses, but acted more organic, like the eyes of a true demon. That thought was soon reinforced, however, for, as the figure looked around, their very helmet deformed and reformed…as if it wasn't a mask at all, but their real face.

The iron giant strode towards the Hydra Wyverns, and —in spite of their 'confidence'— everyone except Genjuro shrank back involuntarily. As for the Crimson Tengu Ravens, there was no need to say a word—none of them had moved or made a sound after seeing this hulking warrior come in. The tall figure finally came to a halt right in front of Genjuro, who crossed his arms and looked up to the monstrous being.

"So, I take it the job is done? Slew all the remaining squatters and thieves? That you even managed to crack the vault's magic defenses already?"

The tall figure glared down at him silently for a moment, expressing nothing. Suddenly, his hand made a gesture. A moment later, there was more movement from the new opening into the temple: moving gingerly to avoid the flames, six more soldiers came, dressed like the ones that Richard's group had taken out not too long ago. There was a seventh person in their midst, however….

This one was an old man, dressed like a native. He looked just as fearful as the women, if not even more so. Once they had him out, they dragged him over to the two and roughly shoved him forward, towards the iron-plated giant.

He stumbled a bit, and managed to get to his feet, but gasped in alarm a moment later as the huge figure snapped a hand out behind him without turning, grabbing his neck. With his size, his hand easily went around the man's entire throat.

A moment later, the figure snapped him around in a flourish, as if he weighed no more than a feather, and held him right in front of his face, leaving him dangling by one arm three feet above the ground. The old man clutched at his neck in panic; the one who held him did nothing. The Hydra Wyverns, on seeing another local about to 'get it', they thought, eagerly looked up again, now that the big one was focusing on something besides them.

"Your situation is hopeless," the huge man —his voice revealed his gender, as the voice of one of his comrades had— said in a voice almost more soulless and mechanical than the voice Richard used while bonded to Greymont, "only death awaits you now. You have two choices.

"We've already gone through every room in this temple, and not found what we seek. Therefore, you can either tell me where the Dragon Helix Emerald is, or you can know what true despair is before you die."

"I don't know what you're talking about! I've never heard of any such thing!" the old man immediately shouted back in panic. "You've been through every room, storehouse, and chamber in the temple already! If it's not there, I don't know where it is!"

"You should think very carefully before concluding that," the iron giant answered, his other fist audibly tightening. "Especially if you're considering lying to me."

"I'm telling the truth!" the old man shouted back as he turned white. "I don't know anything! Take whatever you want—just please, please, believe me!"

The figure continued to stare at him a few more moments. The area was quiet as a grave, save for the old man's struggling. Finally, the iron giant slowly lowered his arm, and put the man back on the ground, loosing his grip from his neck.

The old man gasped in relief, the color returning to his face…before the hand snapped up, used its size to engulf the entire skull of the old man, and then tightened, crushing it into a bloody, oozing mess as if it was nothing more than a rotten plum in the giant's hand. Bits of brain matter and bone fragments erupted and splattered the area, and he held the rest for a moment, letting the bloody remains drip from his hand for a second, before his entire body erupted into blue flames.

His allies on both sides recoiled as fire enveloped the dark man and immediately spread to the corpse of the elder. After it had incinerated the bits of flesh and bone on the figure, and begun to do the same to the body, he cut off the spell, though the intense heat and lesser magical flames quickly burned the rest into ash.

"I told you only death awaited you," the figure stated calmly. "The difference was only in whether it would be instant or prolonged."

Richard was frozen where he stood; many of the others were the same. That wasn't just a display of raw physical power—he could feel the magical energy behind it, even from where he hid. Under normal circumstances, he might have jumped out, screaming, bold, defiant, and attacking…but not now. That power had been too great; that force and savagery too strong. In spite of all of his determination and conviction, he found himself frozen in place—in fear.

Genjuro, meanwhile, gave a loud and raucous shout of victory and cheer. The bolder Hydra Wyverns began to join in after a moment, though some of them were more reluctant than others; the ones who had splatters on them from the old man's remains barely managed a weak cheer. The leader, however, looked like he'd never been happier.

"You have no idea how happy it makes me to finally let these locals know what we feel of their treachery, Dark Lord Zandoris." He grinned. "Looks like this dig is good. As we did our part of the deal and made sure no one interfered, are we free to collect our part of the bargain?"

The figure, Zandoris, turned fully to Genjuro, first moving just his head, then slowly rotating his body to match, letting his shadow fall over the Hydra Wyverns' leader. His enthusiasm wasn't nearly as great as that of the gangsters. He stepped forward, letting more of his frame fall over the gang leader's body. That quickly clammed up their enthusiasm.

"Did you, now?" he asked quietly. He added, in a louder voice, "You seem to be somewhat hard of hearing—I said that the item that we were promised was not found."

Genjuro shrugged. "What's one diamond? The rest of the temple is loaded—the walls themselves are made of antique jade, and there's diamonds and dragon relics everywhere in there; this is enough to make everyone here rich! Besides, I looked in there myself—there's a mass of diamonds shaped like a dragon right in the middle, yours for the taking."

"We did not raid this shrine to greed for money or valuables," Zandoris answered rather sharply, his fists beginning to tighten, a fact that made a few of the Hydra Wyverns swallow, "and you did not promise me a dragon-shaped diamond; you promised me a genuine dragon stone. I saw nothing in there but an ancient miser's vault."

Not only did the iron giant look unhappy, but those with him were just as silent and morose as he was, clearly not enthused about the wealth either. At this point, Genjuro began to finally lose his cool as well, tugging at his collar a bit. "Look, what's the problem? Does the top Jinn Cadre need so much funding that a treasure trove like this is chump change? I find that a little hard to swallow—"

An armored finger extended and pointed at Genjuro's chest like a sword's tip, making the man's face turn to one of fear.

"Your ignorance to the fact that we are not on the same level as you human rodents, and therefore aren't interested in material wealth, is something I find both insulting as well as highly irritating," the hulking man coldly retorted. "Perhaps you would care for a demonstration of the difference between us…."

By now, several of the gang members who had been cheering a minute ago were now looking rather terrified, especially those eyeing the still-smoldering remains of the old man. One leaned in: "Boss…maybe we should just let it go, all right…? We don't want to get this guy mad…."

Unfortunately for them, it seemed Genjuro was too accustomed to receiving respect to know when to back down. "Hey!" he snapped back to the big man. "This proposal we made was good enough for your master—so it should be good enough for his lap-dog! Even a top-notch PMC group like yourselves can't treat us like we're nothing—you're talking to the Hydra Wyverns!"

The red eyes of the hulking warrior seemed to burn brighter; the fires behind him flickered and suddenly went out entirely, plunging the area into darkness. A stiff, cool wind seemed to blow by, and again Genjuro's face fell a bit; the others with him continued to look nervous.

"The Ibis Corps is forged of the deadliest fighters in all of Marvados; compared to us, you are nothing more than vermin…enough talk; it seems you desire a demonstration."

Zandoris immediately squatted and placed his hand palm-down on the ground. In response, a red glyph spread out from the point of contact, painting the ground with glowing lines and radiating quickly outward. He stood immediately after doing so; a crackling sound simultaneously came from the ground. The packed earth broke a moment later, and a sword began to rise out of it and into the air—a sword, yes, but one far larger and more unwieldy-looking than any Richard had ever seen before —definitely bigger than any weapon his family used— and anodized red-and-black, much like the armored giant himself. It had serrations on both sides, and was so broad and flat that, given its jagged edges, it looked almost more like a chainsaw than a sword.

When it finished emerging, it was actually longer than the man was tall, making it close to nine feet—yet he grasped the hilt of it and hefted it as if it was no more than a twig, balancing the blade on one shoulder.

The sight of this caused most of the Hydra Wyverns to panic. The gangster named Tetsuo moaned and loudly lamented, "Oh, man. Who allowed the boss to drink before we were out of here? Damn it, I was going to retire in style, after today!"

Genjuro swiftly took out his own blades, twin Jiodisan ninjato, narrowed his eyes, and screamed, "Enough of your yakking! He wants you to freak out, you bunch of yellow-gutted sissies! Yes, that's Carnage Edge, the infamous sword of the Majin Chevalier of the Ibis Corps; yes, it's one hell of a grizzly thing to look at—but that's all it is: intimidating eye-candy!

"I didn't get to where I am by letting big, scary things make me back off! You're way too slow to hit me with a hulking blade like that!"

"I'd say something a little less foolish, if I were you," Zandoris answered, his voice seeming to make the room temporarily colder with each word. "It would truly be sad if you died stupidly claiming the instrument of your destruction couldn't even hit you…."

By now, Genjuro was beginning to sweat quite a bit —it was visible even from Richard's distance— yet, due to foolish pride, or a lifetime of needing to prove how much of a "man" he was, he somehow made that push him further. "You think you can look at me like I'm some damn dog? You smug bastard—I'll blind you first, so you can't even see how you die!"

Immediately, he let out a spell Richard was familiar with: the Aura Edge technique. Both of his blades lit up with magical energy, and he snapped back, to get a bit of distance, before charging right at Zandoris. At first, he looked as if he was going to shove the blades right into his eyes, but just before getting in range he suddenly sidestepped to the right in a feint, leapt up, and swung both blades forward at once, crying out, "I knew you were all talk; now you're mine! Hydra Storm S—RAUH!"

Moving only one arm, Zandoris cut Genjuro off with a quick slash, using the massive blade as if it was no more than a flyswatter.

A moment later, a wet slap was heard as Genjuro's blood splattered the far wall of the cavern. The rest of him, sliced into four rough pieces, collapsed to the ground; while everyone had seen Zandoris only swing the massive blade once —Richard included— either the Majin Chevalier had struck multiple times in the blink of an eye, or his attack had held such magical power that it had cut twice in one swing somehow.

As the pieces of the Hydra Wyvern fell with splats to the ground —the swords clattering out of two of them, one from each arm— hissing and spitting noises came out of them as if raw meat had been placed on a lit burner: the mere swing of his sword had literally left the man's body frying.

In spite of the copious amount of blood, the sword was completely clean as Zandoris brought it back up and to his shoulder. His eyes flickered up to the rest of the gang. What enthusiasm they had left was gone —now they merely stared at him in fear— but none of them ran; they were far too scared for that, and knew they wouldn't get very far. They stared and stammered at the massive man. None of them had any confidence now—the greatest of them had been killed more-or-less by the flick of a wrist; by a gesture so fast that none of them saw it.

The rightmost gangster threw up his hands. "Hey…hey, man, he was an idiot! We're not stupid enough to try anything like that! You're the boss—we do whatever you want!"

"You knew of the strength the Ibis Corps possessed, and its reputation, yet you thought you'd use it to buy yourself some of that precious 'credibility', using a lie to bring us here and do your dirty work for you. On top of that, you show further ignorance by not even recognizing what it means when I bring forth Carnage Edge," Zandoris darkly responded. The men trembled and shrank back a bit more, as the face narrowed its gaze again upon them.

"You say you will do whatever I want? Very well…"

A chorus of clicks came out from the six mercenaries behind him as their shurikens popped out dual gun barrels, four to each man, and then brought them up before them, aiming at the group; Zandoris removed his sword from his shoulder and placed it in the ground before him, balancing his hands upon it.

"…die."

The barrels thundered as loudly as if heavy repeating plasma cannons had been fired, not those tiny guns, and a single round went into the chest of each and every Hydra Wyvern member. What looked like a spray of chaotic gunfire was nothing of the sort—each shot was perfectly aimed, and each one of the members somehow knew each others' targets; not a single gang member got more than one shot put into them. The massacre was so fast that they seemed to collapse almost all at once; in a moment, there was nothing but smoking barrels and fresh corpses.

Richard and his group were still immobilized; none of them, not even Troy, was risking showing their faces after that. The young man remembered how much trouble he had had with Cheng and Hwang the night before; one could assume Genjuro had been their superior, and he had been swatted like a bug. Furthermore, he had never encountered men who had been so coordinated before; who worked with such efficiency and power …not outside of the Magna Centurions, at any rate….

"I guess we've found the Ibis Corps…" he finally found the strength to whisper after a while.

"Pretty much as vicious as ninety percent of the rumors say, at least…" Voltaire added in a whisper of his own. "Well, gentlemen, at the risk of sounding like a coward: the Hydra Wyverns won't be bothering anyone else, and I believe we're only here to root out corruption among men, not necessarily eight-foot tall demons. It might be best to pull out…."

"Oh, yeah?" Troy answered quietly. "Turning coward on us, eh? Let me at him—I ain't scared of 'im."

"Why are you whispering then, McGuire?" Dan sardonically muttered.

"Maybe he's a cyborg…" Richard thought aloud, "…or has some form of augmentation, like…."

He quickly trailed off before musing anything more aloud, however: he'd realized that he was so unnerved by what he had seen that he had nearly exposed the source of his power.

Zandoris moved forward, still carrying his large sword, and looked over the newly-dead. The gangster Tetsuo had survived the first shot by tripping as he was trying to run away; though he'd avoided an immediately fatal wound, he had still gotten hit in the knee.

As he frantically tried to crawl away, Zandoris quickly shattered any hope the man had: he thrust Carnage Edge right through the man's heart. As the male hoarsely screamed in agony, Zandoris casually looked at his henchmen and ground out in an agitated tone of voice, "Don't these swine ever at least have enough honor to die with some dignity?"

As the last Hydra Wyvern gangster gurgled out his last breath, his murderer looked back to his men.

"Decimating the village will expose us more, and bring us no closer to completing our primary objective. Search the temple one last time for assurance, and then we will depart. You may all take compensation from inside as your reward…" He extended his blade and swiped it over the bodies, particularly Genjuro. "…but do not forget the penalty for unrestrained greed. We will depart immediately afterwards."

"Lord Zandoris…" one spoke up, retracting his gun barrels and pointing out with one glaive. The tall man turned and saw that, in spite of the wild shooting, two targets had remained unhit: trembling, and looking like they were about to faint from the constant carnage, were the two young women.

The shots had missed them completely, even going so far as to have hit the man behind them while leaving them intact. On seeing the iron-covered giant staring at them, however, they both looked away and cringed.

"…what do we do with them?"

Zandoris looked over them momentarily in silence. After a moment, however, he began to advance on them. "The 'contract' we made was meaningless…but, as I said, we don't need further exposure from witnesses."

The teenager began to cry more loudly again; the woman put her arms around the adolescent in a vain attempt at protection. She was too scared and horrified to look up, but as the large man approached, she cried out tearfully, "Please…please, let my daughter go! She's done nothing wrong; she's innocent—"

"There's no such thing as innocence, cretin," the giant grimly answered as he neared, again hefting Carnage Edge into the air and over his shoulder. Both women were too terrified to look at him, let alone run. "It won't be long before every weak creature in this town and in the rest of the world must enter into their final judgment; it is a small matter if two of you go a little sooner than the others."

Entering striking range, he tightened his grip. The woman clutched her daughter tight; the teenager screamed.

Both voice and blade were aborted by a metal clang.

The Ibis Corps troops in the back looked up in a bit of surprise; Zandoris raised a black skull-ridge "eyebrow" at what had just happened: a sound of metal on metal, as of a blade being restrained, was ringing through the otherwise silent chamber. The two women continued to cringe a moment longer, before, realizing they were still alive, they slowly cracked their eyes open. They gaped a bit at what they saw.

Despite how brutal an impression Zandoris had made, seeing the Ibis Corps Majin Chevalier prepare to casually massacre two innocent people had caused Richard to automatically dive at full speed, intercepting the blow just in time.

Ignoring his anxiety over just what he was jumping into, the third prince was trying his best to look bold, while at the same time calling himself both insane and a corpse for what he had just done. He had seen clearly he didn't have a chance against this guy —none of them did— yet he couldn't just watch those two people die. Even seeing the Hydra Wyverns cut down when they had already surrendered had made him tense up; two innocent bystanders….

At any rate, Zandoris was easily standing there with one arm extended. His head turned slightly at this development, especially seeing someone had actually stopped one of his strikes.

"How interesting," he idly murmured. "What have we here? Another gang member, out to avenge his comrades?"

"I don't care about those scum," Richard managed to choke out through clenched teeth, trying his best to sound like 'Requiem', and hoping it didn't come off as it sounded to him: someone hopelessly out of his league. "I'm just defending innocent people. Why kill them?"

"Why not?" Zandoris answered, as simply as if he had been asked whether or not he wanted a slice of lemon with his iced tea. "I have no love for worthless, weak creatures; the laws of nature don't care for innocence or guilt, only what is strong and what is weak. One lives; the other dies."

In spite of feeling his strength being pushed to its limits, Richard tightened his jaw. "I don't know who or what you Ibis Corps members think you are, but I'm not going to allow you to treat people as if they're weeds for you to cut down whenever you feel like it!"

A cold aura seemed to come from the figure at this, and his force upon Carnage Edge ever-so-slowly began to increase.

"Allow me?"

Richard's armor began to groan; sweat started to pour off his brow from the increased pressure.

"Allow me?" the figure said again, his volume growing and starting to show some true emotion for the first time. "And just who are you to begin with, that would be in a position to allow or disallow me anything, cur?"

Richard swallowed a bit: it sounded like he had managed to make Zandoris mad. Terrific—now what?

He got his answer a moment later as he heard a sound of a bolt snapping, followed quickly with a snap as it was charged with power. Immediately, Zandoris removed his blade from Richard's —much to the young man's relief— and so the prince quickly got to his feet and backed up, getting the woman and child to retreat as well.

Zandoris swung his blade up, batting away not only a magically-charged bolt, but a small volley of plasma shots, smacking all into the ceiling and glaring at those who had attacked him.

Apparently, the others had decided that, if Richard was going forward, they were with him: Voltaire, Dan, Troy, and the others had emerged from their hiding place, weapons out and bodies braced for battle. None of them fired again, however; to be honest, Voltaire was grimacing a bit at the fact that Zandoris had so easily knocked aside his first attack, and the others seemed to be pushing themselves forth on adrenaline, rather than sanity.

"I assume that the scouts I put out to watch the entrance are dead," he coldly muttered. "So much the better; if they let rabble past, then you saved me the trouble of executing them."

"Aw, you sell them short, making it sound like it was so easy," Dan managed to rib, grinning as usual—though he was forcing it this time.

"You may be tough, pig-butt, but if you think we're pushovers like those Hydra Wyvern suckers, you've got another thing coming!" Troy snapped as he cracked his knuckles.

The two women took the moment to turn and run for it; fortunately for them …and probably unfortunately for Richard's crew… the figure was now fully focused on the Crimson Tengu Ravens. He turned to face the group fully, casually shifting his foot to crush the remains of Genjuro's head beneath it.

"You are neither local militia nor Aurino commandos; what's your purpose here?"

"I wouldn't expect you to recognize us, as we only debuted recently," Richard said with as much conviction and boldness as he could muster, "but we're the Crimson Tengu Ravens, agents of justice."

Zandoris was actually silent for a moment at that. However, it wasn't intimidation—just what seemed like puzzlement. "I don't care for jokes at the best of times, let alone ones that aren't funny; the same goes for clowns that have strayed from their circus. What are you truly here for? Who are you really?"

"I wasn't joking," the young man retorted, shifting his grip on his sword. "I am the demon of darkness, and I reap justice upon sinners; I am Requiem, for, when my movement is done, it will be the last thing you see."

The iron giant of a man again paused. "Requiem…. You were the one who caused the breakout at Rycroft Asylum," he stated, his tone ever so slightly musing. "Strange to see you here, as well…."

He stared a moment longer, before inclining his head slightly behind him and giving a nod. Richard quickly snapped to the source, and saw that his gesture had signaled two of the other Ibis Corps members. Immediately, they snapped forward, both of them whipping up their glaives at him. They didn't shoot plasma bolts, however, but rather fired off both of their blades at him, as one member had demonstrated that they could earlier. Quickly, Richard snapped back, letting either blade shoot by in an X, right past him.

That seemed to be what they intended, however—both immediately snapped their arms in, and in response the projectiles swerved inward, dragging the razor wire lines behind them like whip cords. Instinctively, seeing what was happening, he snapped up his arms to try and keep them loose, but he didn't move quickly enough: the wires soon spun around him, and bound both of his arms to his side, his sword arm down and his other one crossed in front of his chest. Immediately, a third attacker sprung out of the midst of the others, dashing forward with his own glaive and aiming for a joint in Richard's gorget.

Luckily, Richard wasn't helpless. Quickly, he muttered the Metal Morph spell, and his crossed arm morphed into a blade. With a quick gesture, he snapped his arm down and cut through the wires.

The third attacker saw this and increased his speed, attempting to get to Richard before he could fully free himself. Unfortunately, he underestimated the young man's speed: the metal arm swung out and parried the glaive, knocking it to one side; Auro Solais was driven forward and into the man's gut, easily skewering his armor and bursting through the backplate. The assailant gagged, but quickly went limp on the end of the weapon.

The other two that had temporarily pinned him quickly shifted to their guns to fire at him, but they made a mistake in keeping their eyes on Richard—they had given Voltaire more than enough time to knock a plasma arrow of his own and fire right into a joint in one mercenary's own gorget; an eruption of flames burst out from inside the metal shell before the warrior collapsed.

The other was faced with the wrath of Dan as the former gang leader shot forward faster than the lackey could deploy their guns and swung his leg out, kicking them so hard they literally went careening into the ceiling. Furthermore, Zach quickly took aim with his own gun while that target was falling, and fired a single shot, piercing him straight through the head. When he met the ground, it was as a lifeless heap.

The other three Ibis Corps members hesitated; Zandoris himself looked this over, and then back to Requiem.

"So, it seems you had more than luck on your side at the prison, given that you defeated the Marauders so easily…."

Troy grinned from ear to ear. "Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet, jackass! It's go time!"

Clenching his hands into fists, the big man spoke the Titan Force magic spell, once again swelling in both stature and muscle. As soon as it was done, he barreled straight for Zandoris; Richard nearly called out in alarm, wanting to warn him that, even with this increased power, he couldn't hope to take out this foe so easily, but he didn't need to: another one of the Majin Chevalier's followers quickly darted into Troy's path, firing their glaive at the big man's head.

This was enough to get him to stop, but not much more. As the blade neared, he snapped his hand out, and snatched it right out of the air, wrapping the entire blade in his massive fist. Whether or not it was cutting him as a result remained unknown as Troy gave a sharp tug on the end to not only snap the wire taught, but to send the Ibis Corps member flying up to him like a fish hooked on a fly rod.

The Marauder never had a chance to stop before they reached striking range of the hulking figure, who followed up by tagging them with an uppercut. The force was strong enough to knock the assassin all the way to the ceiling, and, after crashing against it hard enough to dislodge some stone, they dropped back to the ground as another lifeless heap.

Zandoris, however, didn't look too terribly impressed. "Body-modifying magic as well—I see now why you think so highly of yourselves." He raised his head to focus on the others. "Nevertheless, between your entire assembly, you have only mastered a few aspects of the shadows. I, on the other hand, have fully embraced darkness, to the point that the light in my eyes is a mere blight! Now, it is time for you to be educated of the differences between a pretender of the darkness and one who has perfected the art of wielding the darkness!"

With a snap of one of his arms, he swung Carnage Edge down and around. Richard immediately braced for a spell or an attack, but none came. Instead, Zandoris merely smashed the blade against the ground, his power smashing a fissure and crater into the rock, and causing the entire cave to give a violent tremble. It might not have been an attack, but Richard could feel the raw magical force behind it, and nearly recoiled as if it had been.

"Since the Maruaders proved useless against you, I have no choice but to eliminate you myself. You stand before the one with the title of Majin Chevalier of the Jinn Cadre unit of the Ibis Corps. I have the title of Majin not only because am I the strongest warrior in the Corps, but because every clash with me results in a nightmare for my enemies!"

The red eyes blazed.

"So come on, now: unleash all the fury your resolves can muster—before I extinguish that fire and crush you to dust!"

Zandoris shifted his second hand onto Carnage Edge, something that made Richard sweat a bit more—before, he had barely held firm against a gesture with one hand; with his foe using both of them….

I told you I smelled something bad, Boss! Greymont suddenly spoke up. Are you sure we shouldn't try to run? He kind of seems like he's everything you are, only stronger…and bigger…and faster…and tougher…and—

Gee, thanks for the 'pep talk', Greymont….

"Everyone!" Richard shouted. "Don't give him an opening, and work together! None of us can take him alone, but we can beat him if we fight as one!

"No matter how tough he is, we have no choice; we have to win somehow! This isn't an exam, and there's no escape route here; if we lose, we die—so we have no choice but to find a way to win!"

With that said, both sides examined each other, preparing to see who would make the first move in this dance of death. As Richard eyed every aspect of his enemy, he couldn't help but think, Just wish I had the slightest idea of how to do it….