Chapter Seventeen: Hanging on the Thin, Flimsy Road of Trust

The Crimson Tengu Ravens' return trip was, aside from anxiety over the possibility of someone discovering them, rather uneventful. By the time they finally arrived in Los Midas Port, some of them were dying to break straight out of their cramped crates, but they had to wait a bit longer for the workers there to unload their crates and leave the vicinity. At long last, Voltaire called in with the all-clear, and they broke out. From there, it was relatively simple to return back to the Valro Burrow.

The group's tension was rather thick when the last of them finally emerged from Voltaire's warp-pipe spell: this wasn't a victory, and it would be a stretch to even call it a draw. Furthermore, two of them weren't coming back at all.

Before, they would have been throwing around yells and cheers of victory; now, even the stash they had picked up from the temple wasn't anywhere near enough to put them in a good mood. None of them seemed in the mood for talking or idle chatter, much less another one of Richard's speeches, so the prince kept quiet for now. He merely saw them all to the entrance to the Valro Burrow before turning to Voltaire, who was closing the gate with a wave of his hand.

"Shouldn't you be reassuring your family after your apparent 'kidnapping'?" he whispered to his friend.

Voltaire snickered. "Aw, you're concerned—how touching. Don't worry about me—it'll get mentioned at dinner tonight, and that'll be the end of it. As long as I'm alive, it doesn't even merit Dad changing his timetable."

"And here I thought the King of the Aurino Republic was the only one who put his image before personal feelings…." Richard couldn't help but laugh. "Just the same, we'll just touch things up here, and then there shouldn't be any need for you the rest of the day; not after what happened…. I plan to contact my uncle about this, though, and I could use you to fill in any details I miss."

Voltaire nodded; the two turned and began to follow their group back into the ruined streets.

They only got about one more block before they someone came to meet them. Alphonse's metal paws clicking against the stone pavement echoed throughout the whole of the cavern as the Jaeger Cog dashed through to the incoming group, seeming to ignore the bulk of the individuals as it headed toward Requiem. At that point, it stopped and hunched over.

"Requiem, you have returned," it announced in its monotone. "The news alerts coming in on a conflict that erupted in Costa Toro caused worry from many of our members. These were exacerbated when word came that the Magna Centurions became involved."

Sure enough, Alphonse had hardly finished saying this when more began to arrive. Richard looked out and saw that the rest of the gang must have been waiting for the Jaeger Cog, because now they were rushing out of the hotel and any other areas they had been hanging out in, and showed rapidly-growing surprise and shock on their faces upon seeing the state of the returning group. Realizing whatever was going to be said was going to be said here, they halted. The young man himself took a deep breath, and looked back to the machine.

"The mission escalated to something far worse than expected, but we avoided total disaster. Is Claire still…unwell?"

"Mistress Claire's health status has improved in relation to the time/date at which you left on your mission. However, she is still weary, so she is, to use a slang term, 'taking it easy'. It would seem the physical condition of most of you is far more serious; several of you have major wounds, and two of you are absent."

"Where are Eloy and Rocky?" a voice called up from the approaching crowd. It was Jessica, who apparently had not caught the last bit of what Alphonse had said and was trying to see if they were standing behind any of the larger members.

The group looked even more somber at that. Several of them bowed their heads; Zach gritted his teeth and swore under his breath while Dan pulled off his hat.

"They didn't make it," Voltaire finally answered for everyone in a quiet voice.

The approaching gang members either stopped or continued forward a few more steps before halting. They stared at the group, saw how beaten and bruised they were, and realized what that had to have meant. For a few seconds, there was nothing but stunned silence.

No one moved, or said a word, including Richard: there was nothing to say. He could only let it sink in. Slowly, several of the faces turned to horror…but many of them turned to rage—and it was not directed toward the murderer.

Tony suddenly stomped forward, violence in his eyes, coming right toward Richard. He looked up, but otherwise didn't move, despite the infuriated look the former Hammer Wolf was giving him.

"What the hell did you get them into!?" Tony snapped. "You got Magna Centurions brought down on you over there—four of them! What the hell!? Two of our boys are dead now—I thought you said you were good at being 'sneaky'!?"

Richard couldn't help but feel a cold pit in his stomach: even though a lot of what had happened was beyond his control, none of it changed the fact that no one would have died if he hadn't brought them there—no one in their group, at least. For a moment, he wondered if this was what happened every time Orion or Raphael came back with casualties. He doubted it, though: in the Magna Centurions, you always you took your life in your own hands.

But that wasn't the case here; these were by no means Magna Centurions, nor even soldiers.

Even so, this still wasn't totally his fault, or even mostly. He only hoped that, when they all heard the explanation, they would agree with that assessment. Considering the angry stares, he really needed Dan's backing on this one.

"We were being stealthy; most of the damage you heard of was done before we even arrived," he said, forcing his head up so all could hear clearly. "The situation wasn't at all what we'd expected.

"The Hydra Wyverns weren't alone—they were with the same private military contractors that we've started to investigate, the Ibis Corps, and they had what I presume was one of their strongest warriors with them.

"His name was Zandoris. He had magic on a level none of us were prepared for, and he was the one who killed Eloy and Rocky. It was all that we could do just to fend him off, and if it wasn't for the arrival of the Magna Centurions, I'm not sure he would have withdrawn. It could have been a lot worse—we escaped with our lives, after all."

"That's all you can say!?"

The voice speaking up now came from someone at Richard's side, not from Tony. He turned his head, and saw Dan glaring at him with a near-sneer.

"Two of our friends died for nothing back there," he snapped. "The damn Hydra Wyverns got themselves wasted by the Ibis Corps, we got our asses kicked, we couldn't even waste the guy who killed them—" His volume rose. "—and all you can say is, 'it could have been worse'!? For who!? For you? I don't know if we mean anything to you or not, but they were my pals! You can't just stand there acting like it was like losing a damn pair of gloves!"

That hurt even worse than what Tony had said, but Richard couldn't show it: if he broke poise now, any chance he had at keeping order would be gone. He had to stay bold and stoic; he had to be 'Requiem'. "I didn't intend to trivialize their deaths, but that doesn't change the fact that they're dead. Aside from honoring them by ensuring their deaths were not pointless, and supporting their families, there's nothing else we can do about it now."

"Actually, I've got an idea for what else we can do," Hector said with a bitter chuckle. He pointed an accusing finger at Richard. "We can get our asses out of this before you get any more of us fried!"

Richard had feared that response more than any other, and right now it looked as if things were definitely getting shaken up. Several muttered agreements with this as the hateful stares continued; Dan didn't say anything, but seeing as he was 'democratic', it might not have mattered if he had.

Deep down inside, the prince had known something like this would happen sooner or later; he supposed he should have been glad it had happened sooner. Now the question was only whether he could hold things together or not….

"I understand you're all upset, but I also thought you all realized what you were getting into. I never gave the impression that this was going to be easy. I told you previously I wasn't going to send anyone to their deaths, yes, but I also can't see the future. I am truly sorry that your comrades died, but I assumed you all knew from your time on the streets of Los Midas that life can throw surprises at you."

Troy spat at that comment. He looked over his own wounds, grunted, and then looked back up to him. "Well, hell…we all know full-well life's full of surprises; it's what gives it a thrill, and makes makin' it big worth it all," he answered. "And believe you me, that Zandoris…I don't know if that Zandoris really is a spawn of the devil, but, no matter whether he's a legit spawn of Zannacross himself or just some crazy, modified-as-hell psycho, he's a dead man for messing with us.

"But it ain't the curve ball; it's who threw it." He held up his finger and gestured to Requiem. "That Ibis hotshot talked a lot about bringing extreme justice to the world—and that sounds a lot like what you sold us! You look like you even shopped at the same dark-knight-store; how the hell can we know you're not really pals with those guys, and this isn't all some really big con!?"

In spite of his self-control, Richard broke his stoic stance at that, visibly looking infuriated even under the armor. "—After helping you out back in the stadium, helping you again at Rycroft, getting you this place to hide out in, and being on the front line of every painful experience or beating we've gone through together, you still doubt me!?" he shouted, his cool demeanor cracking. "I want to bring justice to this corrupt land; Zandoris and his zealous companions seem to have a desire to bring forth some radical revolution, one where the ones they see as 'undesirable' are forcefully purged in the efforts of making their twisted 'utopia' a reality.

"Classic symptoms of a cult, really—they may see themselves as saviors, but they are merrily committing mass murder. He and I both wear armor, but we are as alike as birds and bugs."

"Yeah—and wanting to go around killing everyone who makes the world corrupt…that's straight on the level," Dan sarcastically retorted.

Richard turned to him, but he merely snorted and shook his head. Drawing himself up a bit in a mock pose, Dan gestured to his body. "Oh, 'all of those groups over there who talk about making peace and justice and making the world a better place through genocide or power-seizing or whatever, they're the nuts, but I'm the 'good one'; I'm the one who's actually telling the truth. You can trust me, right down to the day I have you all strap suicide bombs on, going Hail Revolution!'."

He turned back to Richard. Everyone had gone silent by now, watching their leaders.

"You know what you sound like to me, Requiem? You sound like every other guy I've ever heard on a pulpit, out for a cause—doesn't matter if they're on a stage, in a film, or on a box of fish on a street corner. In the end, they all look out for one person: themselves. Just like everyone else on the street." He crossed his arms. "I don't know why, and I don't know what it would lead to if someone changed it somehow, but this world is held up by a web of lies , and you can never be foolish enough to assume things are safe. Things are never safe—not for guys like us."

Richard continued to fume. He was struggling not to shout again. "You people are driving me crazy. If you don't trust anyone—"

"You got my buddies out of Rycroft, yeah—but you expected something back from it. And after today, it looks like you'll still be expecting more." Dan retorted. "I don't know who or what the hell you are, but either you're putting us on about this 'world of justice' crap, or you're a maniac. Bottom line, Requiem: if you can't prove you're legit, and not some demon or fanatic of some sort, then I'm done with this joint!"

Immediately a chorus of approving mutters came back from the group.

"And how exactly do you expect him to prove that?" Voltaire suddenly spoke up. "Exactly what is he supposed to do, to convince you all that he's 'on the level'?"

"Show us what's underneath the mask," Dan flatly answered. The others immediately muttered and nodded agreement.

Richard was caught at that, but rather than feeling worried, he felt indignant. As this conversation had gone on, his irritation had turned farther and farther away from the logical complaints Dan and his company had, and more to what he had done for them personally. "I told you before—my identity isn't important, and it's better if you all don't know what's underneath the mask."

"Better for who!?" Dan violently retorted, uncrossing his arms and beginning to advance. "Better for you? You want me to get burnt into ash for you, and you don't even trust me enough to show me your face? This may be your order, but I'm here by my choice, remember?

"You either show me your face as a teammate, or I'm going to call you out as a dishonest bastard using me as a chess piece! I don't care too much for ideas, to be honest —anyone can say anything— but trust is more important than anything, man, and if you want my trust, there can't be any secrets between teammates!"

The young men felt pushed by this; his fist tightened so much the armor on his palm almost cut into him. "I thought you 'weren't naive'? You should know that no one is really completely honest with each other; this world is made of people that put on performances for each other. There may never be complete honesty between people, and only by having a common goal can they have enough assurance to work alongside each other!"

Dan actually smirked, whistling and shaking his head for a moment, before it turned back into a scowl. "I don't know how you grew up, but that's a load of rotting slag, and you know it. If you want people to have your back, you need more than power; you need to know the person has your back no matter what; that he's trustworthy.

"I thought I knew a guy once a hell of a lot better than I know you, and it got me in the back. I ain't making that mistake again." He crossed his arms again. "I told you where we stand. What's it going to be?"

The faces around the pair didn't move: at the moment, Richard realized, he had no authority over them. They were back to where they were before this had begun. At last, his own anger began to subside, allowing him to realize that he couldn't talk his way out of this, and he couldn't make them stop.

He had dirt on them; they wanted some on him in return. The 'grace period' was over. As much as he hated to admit it, he had to give them something to go on, because after today he couldn't afford to start from square one again; he had already committed too much into these people.

His fist relaxed, and he straightened. A moment later, he sighed and walked forward a bit, toward the center of the group. They all watched him expectantly, seeming to realize he had decided to break the secrecy. Richard, however, wouldn't be revealing his identity, or what had happened to him—if he was going to give them something, it was going to start 'small'….

Greymont, he thought to the dragon, on my mark, show yourself.

He thought he heard the dragon gulp. You sure it's okay, Boss? I thought you said them knowing about me was too risky…?

We don't have any other option. We're about to lose them, and we've got to give something to get some trust from them!

He looked over to Voltaire. The man was rather tense, clearly not knowing what Richard was going to do, but he didn't say or indicate anything. Richard cleared his throat, and looked to the others.

"You want some secret revealed? Here it is: my power doesn't come solely from myself—the majority of the time you see me, I'm fused to another being."

Taking a sharp breath, he held out one arm. "Everyone, meet my partner in crime, Greymont: the magical, transforming, techo-organic dragon!"

The metal about the arm rippled, and spread to the rest of his body. The waves began to move outward from his body, radiating toward his extended hand. As they did, they seemed to peel the outer layer off of his armor and become a large droplet, hanging from his palm.

In moments, it quickly grew large enough that it slid right off, like a large, viscous puddle. As soon as the last of it came off Richard and was retracted into the mass on the ground, it rapidly enlarged, stiffened, and reshaped so that in less than five seconds the metal dragon was looking up and staring about.

Everyone was more than a little stunned by this, momentarily forgetting their anger. They gaped at this stunning sight, realizing it had been with them the whole time. However, that didn't last; a new sensation came over them as they realized this wasn't the first time many of them had seen this creature.

"You're kidding me," Troy remarked. "That's the same thing from that night on the court!"

Greymont, meanwhile, remained as childish as ever, wagging his tail and giving a toothy grin. "Hi, everyone—nice to meet ya!" He blinked, then suddenly looked pensive. "Although I guess we've met before…but now I get to meet you back!"

Dan looked at the creature for a moment, seemingly as off-put as everyone else that the thing was so cheerful, then looked back up to Richard. Naturally, he was still armored—just with less sheen and color now. He let out a half-chuckle. "So you really are that guy, after all? I was half-guessing, back there…." He straightened a bit. "Of course, whether this thing is a real dragon or a souped-up familiar, the fact still remains: you were watching us during that fight; that means you were tailing us long before you officially introduced yourself in the garage."

Richard sighed at how easily Dan could take a moment of 'broken ice' and turn it back into apprehension, but he decided not to shout this time. "Yes, I was observing you that night, but it was purely by chance. I didn't intend to step in; I only did so when I saw you about to get shot in the back."

He drew himself up a bit more. "You see…I met Greymont here after suffering a betrayal. A betrayal that cost me, I daresay, more than yours cost you. I lost everything. That was the end of my old life, and the birth of my new one. So when I call myself 'Requiem', that means as much to me as any other name. And this…" He gestured to his mask. "…is as much my face as what's beneath."

He gestured to the dragon. "I know what you're all thinking—this looks like a dragon. That's because Greymont is one. He's the supposed 'sworn enemy of humanity'. He's also an individual …a person… just like the rest of you. And, in spite of me being a human, he agreed with my cause. He trusts me."

"The Boss is more-or-less right," Greymont chimed in. "He's the one who woke me up. He seemed like a really cool guy, so I figured I'd help him out, doing what I can. Now, I admit I don't remember too much about my life before he woke me up…but this is where I am now, and I feel it's where I should be. I don't know how much you can trust a guy just because you met face-to-face, but I believe him when he says he's trying to make things right for everyone."

A pause from the group; Zach was the one who broke it. "Wait…you 'don't remember too much'. So how do you know you're a dragon to begin with?"

Greymont blinked and looked at his claws, as if making sure they were draconian. He then shrugged. "I think I'm a dragon…dragons do this, right?"

Suddenly, the reptilian creature snapped its head out, cracked its mouth wide, and unleashed a torrent of fire that made everyone leap, even though it wasn't aimed at them. Moments later, a nearby aluminum trash can had caught fire, and was quickly deforming.

"Yeah, he's a dragon," Zach muttered nervously.

"This is why I wanted to keep my true nature a secret," Richard continued, reaching out to pet Greymont on the head. "He's more than my ally—he's my friend. And if word got out that an actual living dragon was with us, every government would want him dead, and every company would want him in pieces to see if they could clone or weaponize him.

"I know for a fact he's neither a herald of humanity's doom nor a catalyst for a new line of weapons, but if you all don't trust me after this long, then how do you think the rest of the world would react? For now, we're operating from the shadows, but that changes the day people realize a dragon is still alive. They'll dig in every hole, nook, and cranny of Los Midas and the whole Aurino Republic to find him."

The gang paused at this. Dan remained the most pensive; Richard guessed that the man had noticed that, while Requiem may have revealed a secret, his other identity remained a mystery. Hector was the next to speak up.

"I guess that makes sense…but damn. A real, live dragon…almost makes me wish I had gone to that exhibit they threw up on all those billboards everywhere. Uh…hey, um…Mister Dragon?"

The creature frowned. "Boss said my name was Greymont, you know."

Hector swallowed, as if expecting Greymont to rip his face off for that. "Greymont…you went right on Requiem like a coat of paint—can you change into anything you want?"

Seeing his abilities being appreciated, the dragon grinned like a child after a minor league Electro Ball victory. "Well, not anything…but I can turn into things…like…this!"

He leapt into the air and rippled, rapidly losing his tail and wings and reshaping the rest of him. By the time he landed, a metallic statue that looked like a mannequin was standing before Hector, and, in spite of being a bit crude, it clearly bore the man's likeness.

"Wow!" Hector couldn't help but exclaim. "So, you can get all big and huge, too?"

The face of the 'Hector Doll' deformed, Greymont's eyes and mouth popping out, which was a bit unsettling, but his voice was normal. "Well …er… not quite. I may be stretchy, but I'm not that stretchy. Smaller things are fine, though!"

A few people chuckled at the "stretchy" comment; Troy actually was bold enough to risk moving in closer. Distracted from their unease and anger, the gang was now taking on more of the likeness of kids seeing something 'fun' brought into show-and-tell. "Tell me, dude…is it true you eat humans?"

The dragon's body began to morph back into its old shape. "Well, I could if I wanted to …and sometimes I think it might be tasty… but Boss said eating humans is a really bad thing to do. If it's bad, then it's bad—and I don't want to do bad stuff. I don't want to be the odd man out …er… or is that 'dragon out'? What does it mean to be odd and out at the same time, anyways?"

As Greymont pondered this idiom, Zach looked up a bit more. "I guess what all this means is we've all got some major 'fire power' on our side," he said with a grin.

Everyone gave him a predictable sort of look.

"You were all thinking it; I just said it."

"All right," Richard spoke up, getting their attention back. "You wanted me to put something out. There it is. Now you all know something no one else knows about me; now we have each other's head in a noose. And now you hopefully know why I can't show you my face.

"As big as Greymont's existence is," He gestured back to his helmet. "if it got out what's behind this mask, I swear you would all be on the chopping block, and not just me. So…" He crossed his arms. "…where do we stand?"

The group looked back up to him. After a moment, their heads swiveled to one another, each one gauging the others' reactions and expressions, each trying to find out what the others were thinking and silently 'discussing' the matter. Both Richard and Greymont patiently waited as Voltaire nervously clenched and unclenched a fist.

Finally, the heads turned to Dan: they seemed to all have reached the consensus that if their former leader was 'fine' with it, then they were as well. He, in turn, looked back at Richard and gave him a probing look. He still had that air about him that he'd had when he'd seen Richard reveal Greymont rather than his identity.

He moistened his lips, then slowly gave a nod. "All right," he said. "Yeah, I suppose, if I wanted, I could just let out that you have a real, live dragon. I've lived on the street, after all—I know how to make that happen without going to a cop or the press.

And you were there, right along with the rest of us, getting your ass beaten; I'd be a hypocrite if I knocked you too hard for not being ready when things went wrong." He uncrossed his arms. "So long as you make it clear you aren't just lining us up for a shooting gallery from now on, I'll cut you some slack, this time."

Richard quietly let out the breath he'd been holding as the others seemed to fall in with this: for now, it seemed, they were back to being the Crimson Tengu Ravens. He knew Dan was still standoffish, but it was as good an outcome as he could hope for, for now. He nodded. "Then I hope you trust me when I say I'll make sure our next mission is flawless, just as I trust you to not say anything about Greymont to anyone." He looked about the group. "Any of you."

"That's a bit more like it," Dan answered, straightening and stretching a bit. "All right, I think I've had enough drama for the day, so, unless you've got any more surprises, then I'm done here."

Rchard eyes the blond-haired man carefully before nodding. "All right. It will be some time before I'm ready for our next mission anyways." He nearly turned to go before he realized something. He looked back down to the dragon, and thought for a moment.

"Greymont, if you'd like to hang out with the group and get to know your new comrades better, go right ahead."

The dragon looked up in some alarm. This wasn't exactly total free rein, but it was the first time Richard had given him permission to pretty much 'be himself'. "You…you sure about that, R—Requiem?"

Beneath the helmet, Richard smiled a bit as he gave him another pet on the head. "I'm sure everyone would prefer it to another speech from me…."

Troy looked intrigued, then blurted out eagerly, "Hell yeah—let's see how a dragon does in a chugging contest!"

The prince grimaced. "I'm afraid liquor is out of the question; I'm not exactly sure how he would react to it—what the results would be for him…or for any of us."

Having gotten the all-clear from Richard, Greymont hardly looked like he heard the prohibition as he spun back to the others, eagerly advancing. "Hey, you guys have any of those meat pies you were eating the other day left? —Because I totally want to try them!"

The others looked a bit nervous at first about the dragon approaching, but by now the braver ones among them had realized the dragon was 'cool', and the rest ended up falling in around them. Some were just curious to watch the seemingly-metal creature move; others were fascinated to find him so approachable.

In any event, it took their minds off the misery of that day's mission, and soon they began to walk with him back to the hotel. Richard, on his part, repressed the urge to wipe sweat from his brow, partly because it was beneath his helmet.

After a moment, he heard Voltaire walking up behind him. "You sure it was such a good idea to let everyone know about him?"

"No," Richard dismally answered. "Now we really have to worry about what they do when we're not watching them—I only need one! They can do more way damage to me than the other way around…but I didn't have a choice; if they walked out on me, we'd have to start totally from scratch. New hideout…new identity…even new armor; they all knew too much about me already.

"Besides, it gives Greymont more purpose to life than being a layer on my armor."

Voltaire hesitated before answering; he looked up and noted that, while the bulk of the group was going one way, Dan was going another, and didn't seem to share the optimism of the others.

"I guess trust is a two-way street. Besides, our little pile of risk chips was bound to start growing, sooner or later; might as well be sooner."

Richard didn't answer that; he turned and began to head toward the building with his room. Voltaire looked up at this.

"Where are you headed? You're not even going to make sure he doesn't get into anything for the first hour?"

"I want to find out just how much my uncle knows about the Ibis Corps," the young man answered. "At this point, any information is better than going in blind again."

Dan watched from the corner of his eye for the two men to turn; only when he was sure they weren't looking at him did he turn and look back to them. His casual smiles and air were still gone, and had faded even more now that he knew no one was watching him. As he looked at the two of them returning to their own building, clearly distinct from the hotel and the bulk of his own group's quarters, he slowly sighed.

He looked down to his jacket. Reaching inside his pocket, he came out a moment later with a handful of gold coins: what he had in his hand was likely worth ten years of wages for both Eloy and Rocky's family. They could put their brothers and sisters through college, prevent foreclosures, and handle any medical bills…but money wasn't a magic cure for everything.

That's what all the idiots topside at the casinos thought: they thought, if they could just play one more hand, spin one more wheel, or throw the lever on that one-armed-bandit one more time, they would be set, and everything that happened before that wouldn't matter. —All of them dreaming big …making big plans about what they were going to do when they finally hit that jackpot… and all of it amounting to some drunk, naked sucker lying in the streets, choking on their own blood and vomit….

"And here I thought you were so sociable. Don't you want to go watch how many meat pies our new 'special friend' can stuff into his mouth?"

Dan looked up a bit at that: it was Claire, coming out of a doorway in a ruined building. Judging by her wet hair and the towel around her neck, it was likely a place with hot water she had recently repaired. She still looked as crazily dressed as ever, and, for all the junk food she had been stuffing down her gullet, she was still a waif, barely able to walk without bracing herself against the wall.

He finally managed a half-lopped smile. "So, Sleeping Beauty finally awoke from her long slumber; I was beginning to think you were dead…. What brings you out to be chatty? Feeling guilty that you slept while the rest of us were working?"

Claire's face turned into a sneer, her mind again shifting into 'angry mode'. "I should have expected a dumb ape like you wouldn't know how a woman's body works. For your information, I wasn't sleeping. I was in pain the whole time."

Considering what he had seen happen to Eloy and Rocky, Dan had a feeling her pain was rather insignificant, but he didn't want to start a fight right now. He merely sighed and looked away. "Whatever—not like you could have helped much anyway; not much tech lying around in some old cave." He crossed his arms. "Still, girl, if you can't get your head together, you're not much use to anyone, much less us. Don't care how smart you are—if you can't make use of it, then what's the point?"

Her anger swelled. "I didn't ask for your opinion in the first place," she snapped. "You think a little blood on one outing is a big deal? Then you don't know how life was at Rycroft."

Dan looked to her, his own expression turning rather cold as well. "You're right; I don't. And I'm sure it wasn't a picnic either. I know all about that; I've had times I've had to walk around with snapped ribs and an empty stomach for half a week, and through two brawls while that happened. And do you know why? Because that crap doesn't mean a damn thing when lives are on the line. You put your personal junk on a shelf, and you get out there. Your life was hell at Rycroft?" He whirled a bit more to her. "Well, at least you still have a life! Two of my boys don't—they don't even have corpses to bury!"

The sudden surge in violence was not what Claire expected, and, as angry as she had been, her personality did a total reversal upon seeing Dan's response—she lost her crass and sardonic side, and became rather meek. "What…killed? But…but I thought you all could handle those Hydra Wyvern guys…."

"Yeah, well, we weren't fighting Hydra Wyverns out there," Dan grunted, calming down slightly at Claire's change. "We were fighting that Ibis Corps group. Specifically, we ran into one of their big shots, the Majin Chevalier, Zandoris. We never even got to smash in a single Hydra Wyvern's face; he killed them all because they called him off on a snipe hunt. Only reason he didn't get all of us was because the Magna Centurions showed up. To think we actually owe them…." He looked away again, putting his hands on his hips and muttering something to himself. After a moment, he looked back.

"By the way, I'm guessing you saw Requiem's little 'secret weapon' already."

Seeing Dan becoming a bit less angry, Claire likewise eased up. "Oh, the dragon? Yeah—I saw him back when he fought Salinger. Neat."

The former gang leader blinked at how indifferent she seemed. "You saw something that was supposed to have been both a mass human-killer and extinct pop up right in front of you, and you just shrugged it off? I thought you science types were all into that stuff."

"So you've known me less than a week, and you think you've got me pegged inside and out, huh?" Claire answered with an eye-roll. She sighed. "Look, for what it's worth, the dragon was interesting, but I'm in this for one reason: getting back at Professor Fraction. Everything else can wait until that's done."

Dan paused a moment, seeing her absent-mindedly rub at her arms and look about with that same stare she'd had when she first talked about her quarry. He went ahead and focused on it—it got his mind off of other things, after all.

"That doc really messed you up, huh?"

The woman nearly responded crassly, but then noticed that he seemed to be legitimately curious. After a moment, she sighed heavily. "That's putting it lightly. I was the go-to lab rat; most of the time Fraction and Salinger would try out an experiment just to see what would result, how a human would react…what a spell would do…or just simply for the hell of it.

"Granted, they didn't do stuff as serious to me as they did to the ones that were experiments for the Ibis Corps—the kind of stuff that populated the vegetable bins you guys walked through. But they did inject me with plenty of stuff without so much as telling me what.

"I get pains at times—headaches…dizziness…sometimes vomiting…sometimes other stuff that's probably too filthy to talk about. At the worst times, I can barely move. Over-the-counter stuff and even magic potions only make it slightly better."

Dan lowered his arms and quieted a bit. His expression turned more sympathetic. "Sorry to hear that," he said in a quieter voice. "I didn't realize it was that bad."

For the first time since they met, Claire gave a small smile that wasn't a result of mirth or personal gratification.

"As far as I know, you weren't one of those bastards' men, so we're cool. But that's why even thinking of Fraction drives me up the wall: everyone loves him …says how great and brilliant he is… but I know he sees the whole world as nothing more than his science project. Anyway, forget me." She exhaled. "Dad died a long time ago…it's your friends who got killed today."

Dan managed a small chuckle. "As far as I know, you weren't the one who roasted them alive or melted them into ashes, so we're cool," he echoed. "You know what honestly pisses me off more than anything, though?" He made a fist and gritted his teeth. "I couldn't do anything about it—not a damn thing." He snorted and lowered his head. "Guess it's not the first time I couldn't do jack for my pals, but…." He sighed. "You know, I know Requiem didn't know Zandoris was going to be there, and I suppose I can understand that. I just wonder if he realizes how easy it would be for one mistake to make everything go to hell."

Claire shrugged. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I thought he probably started this thing knowing exactly what he was doing, but, for something as revolutionary and new as this, I doubt many people would, or that it would be all fun-and-games. I notice he's still keeping his face covered—maybe he's doing this because he has no choice."

"The dude found what is likely the only living dragon, and talks about going on a worldwide crusade of justice. Maybe it's just me, but I'm pretty sure that's something not many people would do just for giggles." Dan tutted. "The guy is full of surprises, but, real dragon or not, that doesn't mean he knows what he's doing. In the end, anyone who does say they know how everything is going to be is full of it. More than anything, I just want to know what the dude's real deal is…" He looked back to the direction of the hotel, seeing Greymont and the others vanish inside. "Then again, I may already know the answer."

Claire looked up a bit. "Huh? I don't get it."

"I'm not sure there's anything to get—I just know I'm not letting him off the hook just yet," Dan answered, before looking back to her and flashing a grin, looking much more at ease. "You know what? You were spot-on, about those with power just thinking of their own little world and desires and getting caught up in them. I might be opening a can of worms here, but I'm going to make sure I don't end up getting stuck in it, too."

The woman looked confused for a bit longer, then simply bored as she yawned. "Whatever. If you're running off, did you see where Alphonse went?" She blinked. "No, wait, nevermind—I've got a tracker. He needs to bring me some new data, and after a snack, I'm back to research. So…" She gave a mock salute. "…have fun doing…whatever you planned on doing."

Dan merely snickered as he looked back. "Oh, I don't know about 'fun'. I'll settle for him not killing me…."

Claire blinked again at that, but Dan was already leaving.

"To think…" Richard said as he sighed and plopped himself onto his bed. With Greymont gone, he was considerably lighter, but still rather sore and exhausted from the physical, magical, and mental tolls. "…here I was worried about recruiting former Hydra Wyverns. Now we don't even know if our current group can be trusted."

Voltaire made sure the door was locked before turning back to Richard, who took a deep breath and looked back to his friend.

"We're going to need to be bigger if we're going to do more than just taking out things that are gang-sized. Not just more individuals; more with power and skill—but keeping people like that under control won't be easy."

"I suppose we can't just threaten to feed them to Greymont…" Voltaire mused. "A starting corporation is always at risk of growing faster than it can handle—big fish and little pond, and all that.

"The fact that we're vigilantes makes little difference; we still run the same risks, though we face even greater consequences. You're going to have to make sure your leadership is top-notch in every venture; it might make or break you. We should also start screening the members, as discretely as possible."

Richard groaned and lay back on the bed.

"Don't let yourself get tired now," the red-haired man went on. "This mission may have been a fiasco, but no one was expecting a…a 'Jinn Cadre', whatever that is. If you want your momentum back, we're going to have to make sure the next one is a total success. We definitely can't afford to start a losing streak this early. People can be forgiven for one screw-up —even sports teams can be forgiven for losing— as long as it doesn't become a trend."

Richard chuckled bitterly. "So we agree, it's best we make sure whatever we do next is a success, right?"

Voltaire gave a bitter chuckle of his own. "I see you've studied group moral too, eh? You're correct, old bean: otherwise our comrades might start getting even grouchier."

Richard grinned as he reached for his helmet. "All right, I guess I've cooled down enough. Time to call up my uncle and ask what—"

Knock-knock-knock.

Immediately, Richard removed his hands from his helmet, which he had been about to remove, as both he and Voltaire snapped their heads to the door. The prince feared that whoever it was had overheard some of that conversation before he remembered Voltaire's sound dampening spell. The knocking repeated only a few seconds later, more insistent. Not long after that, it became almost a pounding.

The two exchanged glances. Voltaire rolled his eyes. "It's all yours if they got Greymont drunk and he ate someone…" he muttered as he began to put his own mask back on.

Richard grimaced, wishing he was in a better mood to take that joke, before he got up from the bed and went to the door; another chain of pounds were made before he finally reached the knob. After making sure both of their faces were concealed, he opened it.

Dan was standing there. In spite of his frequent knocks, his hands were already at his sides. He looked neither happy nor angry.

"Dan? Is something wrong? Did something happen?"

A grin popped up on Dan's face. "Nah, man; far as I know, nothing's gone crazy yet. Just that I had something I needed to talk to you about."

Richard still remembered how reluctant Dan had looked back in the street, and how he'd walked off by himself. "If it's not about upcoming operations, it can wait; I'm in the middle of something. I'll be out shortly." He began to close the door.

An echo resounded throughout the whole hallway from the sheer force of Dan's hand snapping out to the door and smacking into it, holding it open. He continued to grin at Richard, much to the other man's surprise, but it was no longer 'happy'.

"Sorry, you'll just have to make time."

Before the surprised young man could say or do anything, Dan pushed the door right open, actually making Richard take a step back, and walked right into the room. The prince turned to him in alarm as he came right in and immediately got a view of the various tech and gear littered about.

Voltaire went rigid, not really sure what to do in light of this. As for Richard, he turned and remained still for the moment. The truth was, he didn't know what to do either: Dan had caught him off-guard by just coming right in, and right now he wasn't sure if he wanted to try and talk him out or force him….

Dan glanced about the room as he strolled in, taking note of everything, and giving a small nod. "Hmm…nicer than any of the intact suites at that hotel. Leader has the best room, eh?" He gave a small snort. "Figures—even the justice-preacher can't keep from helping himself to a perk or two…."

"So is this 'something' you needed to talk about just an excuse to pry into other people's affairs?" Voltaire spoke up.

The gang leader immediately halted. His grin faded as he stared at Voltaire. "Think because you're obviously someone rich and connected that you're better than me, bud?

"So it's cool if you guys just get involved in my life whenever you feel like it, but not the other way? Who knows—this might be for your own good!

"What's the matter—were you guys having a private meeting? You guys think you're the inner circle, eh? Well, I think your circle is too tight!"

Realizing this was quickly going somewhere he didn't want it to, Richard cleared his throat as he shut the door and advanced. "Nicholson…Dan." He spoke more as 'Richard', not as 'Requiem'. "Obviously you're still upset about what happened. I'm still upset about what happened.

"But you have me at a loss. I never intended for this to happen. I can only say that and 'I'm sorry' and promise not to let it happen again so many times; you've got the money to give to their families, and now you know how to ruin me. What else do you want from me?"

"A straight answer," Dan retorted as he turned fully to him. "Tell me what you're really after."

"Do you really want us to recite that creed again?" Voltaire interjected with an exasperated sigh. "Maybe one of those hits shook your memory…."

"I'll buy that you're not one of those Ibis Corps members, in spite of the getup, but that doesn't answer much else. I'm sick of talking to a mask. A man doesn't just wake up one day wanting to purge the world of corruption. Who are you?"

Richard took a moment to inhale as he walked closer to him. "If you don't believe my desire for justice, then I don't see how I can make you, and so that's your problem…. You told me when this started that you would at least wait and see how things go. This is something that can't be rushed."

"You've just got some snide comeback for everything, don't you?" Dan said with a chuckle. "You don't think that I already have a pretty good idea of who you are, do you?"

The young man fought with all of his might to keep from reacting to that. What felt like a block of ice sank into his stomach, and, in spite of all of his self-control, his sword hand visibly twitched. It was a good thing Dan's back was to Voltaire, for the man clearly showed his own surprise that the former gangster had figured it out. Richard did his best to play it cool.

Without warning, Dan snapped forward and unleashed a two-fingered Nukite Uchi into a gap in the prince's armor. This blow was usually intended to strike a nerve, but Requiem didn't have a nerve there to hit, so Richard's metal arm didn't react at all to the blow—which gave Dan the answer he was seeking. Dan chuckled. "Have to hand it to old man Yuen—some of his stuff paid off, however much of a drag learning it was."

The young man swallowed, and, in spite of his best efforts, there was no denying the shaking in his voice. "The fact I have a metal arm has nothing to do with—"

"I'm getting damn tired of you and your friend here thinking that just because I lived on the street I'm a moron," Dan snapped, his anger quickly mounting. "You think just because I like hanging out in bars and getting in brawls that I don't watch the news? You think I don't pick up on a man trying to hide his face so desperately? You think I didn't recognize that bald bastard from the news? The one who gave the report of the 'death' of Richard Zilos?

"You think I didn't see you …a young man dressed in rags, looking like he dragged himself through hell, hiding his face and a metal arm, three damn days after the prince was supposedly killed… look at that guy like you wanted to carve him up right then and there?" He gave a snort, weakly grinning and shaking his head. "Man—you may be good at hiding your face and thinking up cover stories, but your body language makes you about as readable as a book."

Richard's body was frozen in place. His mind was racing; many of his worst fears quickly flowed back into his thoughts. Someone knew Richard Zilos was still alive—and the more ways to cover it up he considered, the more clear the severity of the problem became. One could actually hear his armor shaking a bit as he quivered. If he tried to deny it, it would only become more obvious….

Seeing him stunned into silence, Dan eased up just a bit. "Don't knock yourself too hard—you don't live on the street and not learn how to read faces."

The prince could say nothing. He had to have a few moments just to calm himself enough to think, to try and find a way out of this; it was good that the door was shut…or was it shut? Had he only pushed it partway? If he looked to check, it would only make his fear more obvious….

Seeing Richard floundering, Voltaire reacted. He suddenly stepped forward and inserted himself between the two. "So you did a bit of your own sleuthing, eh? Seems you've got an agenda of your own going on. Well, I'm glad we're getting all of that out now, and not during a mission…."

That only seemed to incense Dan all over again as he glared at him. "My only agenda is making sure you guys are legit, Jade Hawk…" His eyes narrowed. "…or do you prefer Voltaire Joachim?"

Voltaire's own look paled at that, although he held it together better than Richard.

Dan snorted and shook his head. "I figured you out without even needing to look at your little swagger and chin-up that I always saw on the news. That voice; those facial features; that way you talk. Anyone with a tabloid would have known.

What do you think of that, Mister Big Shot? Still think I'm some cheap little backwoods street thug without two brain cells to rub together? You idiots…you have your faces all over the place, and you really thought I was so damn stupid I wouldn't—"

The former gang leader cut himself off; his own anger faded into a touch of surprise.

The tri-bow was out and aimed right at his forehead. Voltaire's own face had lost most of its carefreeness and mirth; now it was dead serious.

The room was silent for a moment or two. No one moved; no one said a word.

Dan smirked. "So, whatever happened to all that 'justice' you guys were ranting and raving about?"

"Don't misunderstand me," Voltaire coldly answered, not moving. "It's just that hearing a petty opportunist trying to blackmail me gives me an itchy trigger finger…and if you're not seeking to blackmail us, then really, now, what is the point of this? Were you just itching to rant about how you loath the upper class, or is this in fact related to anything?"

The former gang leader saw that Voltaire wasn't wavering in the least. However, he simply rolled his eyes and sighed. "Man, you're all pessimistic as hell! Did I say I was blackmailing anyone? Hell, no—I'm not doing this to sell you out for cash, I didn't tell anyone else this, and I don't plan to, depending on your answer!"

"So first you call us out on being sincere, and then you expect us to take your word." Voltaire said with a faint grin. "What was that whole bit about trust being a 'two-way street'? I don't plan on killing you with this, by the way, if you can 'trust' that…."

The two glared daggers at each other, seeming to wait for the other to break and make the first move. Richard watched this a little longer, and realized the truth:

Even if Voltaire could knock Dan out …even if he could somehow get Dan's memory modified and ship him to the far corner of the world… it wouldn't fix the problem—the others would notice their unofficial leader was gone, and wonder why. Heck, the main reason most of them were sticking around right now was Dan. He had them over a barrel, whether he was serious about being innocent or not, so they had to play this out.

At last, he sighed in defeat and stepped forward, putting his hand up. "Voltaire, put it down."

The man turned to Richard on hearing his public name, but the prince helplessly sighed. "No point in denying it now. He's right: we did underestimate him." He looked back to the former gang leader. "You sure don't like backing down, do you, Dan?"

"And it's about time you said something I liked hearing, 'Your Highness'," the man answered simply.

Grimacing a bit under his mask, Richard turned to the door and quickly generated a minor spell: much to his displeasure, the door had still been cracked. He also threw in a prayer that no one else had heard anything as it slammed shut.

Turning back to Dan, he reached up with his hand, seized his mask, and pulled it off. He could see the bitter smile immediately spread on the blond man's face as he saw his conclusion confirmed.

"So what do you want out of this, Dan?" Richard spoke in his normal voice at last, although his face was rather harsh. "Another favor? A perk? Some sort of cut?"

Again, the man rolled his eyes. "Always expect the worst from everyone, eh?

"Well, you're rich …or you were… and you obviously got stabbed in the back by everyone from Pops down to his bald attack dog, so I guess I can see that. The only thing I want is the same thing you keep not giving me: what are you really after?"

Richard gave an exasperated look. "And I don't even know what you mean by that. I already told you; mask or no, what I said before was true. I want to bring justice to Los Midas, and then the rest of the Aurino Republic. I want the Crimson Tengu Ravens to avenge those wronged by the corrupt, the greedy, and the wicked." He paused. "You might as well know the rest, too: I didn't tell you before that Alec Steel is directly responsible for why I've been declared dead."

"A lobbyist got your own dad to have you conveniently taken care of," Dan answered skeptically.

"He's not what he seems," Richard forcefully answered. "He has some kind of hold on my father—and through him, he's got his hand in everything. He was the one who pushed my father to attack Zaylor. It was purely a resource grab—make up an excuse to kill the people living there and take their land. I wouldn't follow those orders, and for that, not only Bolton Steiner but my own half-brother tried to kill me as a traitor.

"If he's really tied to the Ibis Corps, then this is just the start. You saw what they did to the people in Costa Toro; I saw what they did to the people of Zaylor. It's just going to keep on coming, until everyone in the Aurino Republic lives or dies at their whim; maybe all of Marvados. The Magna Centurions are compromised; I don't even know who to trust in there." He shrugged. "I had to act in a way that wouldn't bring any official attention. So I—"

He was cut off by a loud laugh. Richard paused and blinked, seeing Dan suddenly rolling his head back and letting out a loud peal, crossing his arms and actually taking a step back. Both the prince and Voltaire were confused by this for a moment before he looked down and pointed at Richard.

"I knew it! I knew it! I always knew you were full of crap!" he snickered. "All the preaching about justice and peace, just one big con! All your talk about creating a 'better world' is a load of slag; you're just out for your own revenge, and we're just your pawns! You don't give a damn about making some new era or order—you just got hurt, and now you want to hurt back!

"You want revenge, and you're throwing up this little dark-knight routine to get people to help you out with it! And as soon as it's over and done, it'll be right back to the nice little status quo, while the rest of us get left to rot. Same junkyard, different day!"

"That's not true!" Richard lashed back, having cringed at those accusations. "All right, yes, I want revenge—can you blame me!? But I also want to make my nation a better place—and I can't do it as 'Richard Zilos', not when people want me dead!"

"You just keep saying that, 'Your Highness'," Dan bitterly answered. "Hell, maybe you've said it to yourself so many times you believe it. I don't blame you entirely; if someone got my own family to backstab me and play it all up for rally points for the polls, I'd like to gut him myself. You might even deserve it. But don't stand there and keep trying to sell me on your cheap booze after telling me all that. You want to know something, Your Highness?"

Dan held up a finger and gestured to him. "You…" He looked towards Voltaire and gestured to him as well. "…him…your little lobbyist…even your daddy…" He shook his head. "You're all the same: you talk big, you make big movements, and you have all these grand visions of making waves in the world. And when you make waves, what happens?" He moistened his lips and gestured back to himself. "People like me—people like Tony, Zach, Jessica, Hector…" His face twisted a bit. "…Eloy…Rocky…we drown. Most of the people out there don't have the strength to fight back. You've seen it in Zaylor and Costa Toro? I've seen it my whole damn life. Yeah, you're out there; you're on the front lines, leading your 'troops' into battle.

"But you've got a dragon backing up your body, and more magic than most people will ever see, let alone learn. Here you are, sitting around, making your 'big plans'…and two of my guys are dead. Yeah, you say it's unfortunate, and that you're sorry, but in the end, they're just 'inevitable collateral damage', am I right? Acceptable losses? Tell me, Your Highness:" He crossed his arms. "Did you count what the 'cost' of what this whole venture would be before you started, in terms of our lives? Or was part of your plans here trying to see who you can get to fit your two new 'openings'? 'Who'd be the easiest to train to take their spot?' 'Who'd be the most likely 'employee'?' Exactly how many more of us do you think you'll 'burn through' for your pipe dream?

"Even when guys like you do things that are worth it, you know how many people end up swept aside one way or another, without even being given a second thought? Guys like you may pat yourselves on the back, and say 'it's inevitable collateral damage'—but it sure doesn't feel so casual when your entire life is crushed for no other reason than your being in the way of someone who has more power than you!"

Richard's face sank, and, putting his metal hand on his head, he walked over to the nearest wall and leaned against it. He was still emotionally exhausted from Costa Toro; now this was starting to drain him further still.

"Do you really think I planned that mission seeing you all as 'acceptable losses'? The whole reason I'm in this mess to begin with is because I hate senseless death…but, as much as I may not like it, and you may not like hearing it, sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes people don't make it out—and sometimes you have to take risks, where you're not sure everyone's going to come back in one piece."

"I might have expected that from the Third Prince," Dan retorted. "King Andross wants his kid to grow into as legendary a king as himself, eh? Well, despite everything he's done, he and all the other leaders in this world rarely see the world through the eyes of the little guy; even the best of them get out of touch with how the world works for those who don't have any power!

"Hell, if you blow it, you can still get away, can't you? Got all sorts of tricks up your sleeve. And you don't have to gamble your life so much either, do you? Nah…someone like you has all sorts of connections, even when he's 'on the run'. For Mavlos' sake," He grunted and gestured to the side. "You've got Voltaire damn Joachim standing in this room with you! Don't stand there and tell me you've got nothing to lose!"

Richard frowned in response, but Dan let out a hiss as he shook his head, turned away, and began to pace to the opposite wall.

"Yeah, your family either thinks you're dead, or wants you dead; the rest of the world thinks the same way…and yet, here you are, making all sorts of big plans and designs because you've got a rich buddy and schmucks like us backing you up…" he muttered. "Always easy to make a big gamble when you got money to burn. People like you two haven't the slightest idea what it's like to feel powerless. Where you find yourself already halfway to hell, and the only way out is to drag yourself up onto a pile of broken glass. People like you have never had to worry…to really worry…that you make one wrong move and you're a dead man."

He reached the opposite wall and put a hand on it, then turned back to Richard.

"Say, Your Highness…I've seen your mom on the news. She looks pretty nice; kind lady. I bet she always made your birthday cake just the way you like it, and iced it herself, didn't she? Your sisters, and your brothers? I bet they were always there to give you a nice big high-five when you did good on a test at whatever rich-boy academy you went to, didn't they? That sword you've got?" He snorted. "I'll bet it was a present, wasn't it? A present from your nice, rich dad. Yeah, I bet he gives you gifts all that time that would feed our gang for a year."

His eyes narrowed.

"You want to know about my mom and dad, Your Highness? Well…" He gave a bitter chuckle. "I never even knew my mom, and my old man…oh, Dad.

"Dad, Dad, Dad…if ever there was a lazy, self-absorbed sack of crap in this town…. I can't tell you how many times he came home, his eyes all lit up, with his latest paycheck, saying tonight was 'the night'; tonight was when he was going to make it big; tonight was when everything changes. How many times he tried to assure me that the bet was rigged, and all that good stuff…and the next day he'd walk in, usually beaten to a pulp, with next month's rent currently sitting in some bookie's pocket.

"Only guy who ever did anything for me was Master Yuen—gave me some fatherly advice once or twice…but mostly he put a weapon in my hands, or, rather, turned my hands into weapons. Everything else I got myself, whether it was the clothes on my back, the food I ate, or an only-slightly-leaky roof over my head in winter. Pretty much my whole life I prayed night-and-day for 'good weather'.

"'Let there not be a drive-by tonight'. 'Let there not be a gang squatting in this hall'. 'Let this homeless shelter have enough room for one more'. And when things got worse, I held on with everything I had. What's the longest you ever went without food, Your Highness? A day? Maybe two? Try eight. How about without sleep? Ten days…and it sure as hell wasn't from insomnia. I did what I had to to survive, all this time."

He paused. "I'm not proud of all of it, but I'm here to even have regrets in the first place. Everything I've got, I scratched off of the surface of this miserable rock we call a planet." His brow creased. "So you can take your good intentions and shove 'em. I'm not about to give up what little me and my buds got for some guy who doesn't even stop for ten minutes to think about just how much we've all got to lose."

Richard stared back silently. However, his face had changed quite a bit: where before he was more confused and sympathetic, he had rapidly gotten colder. When Dan started accusing him about hardships, he had begun to clutch his metal fist. He reached over with his arm, and held his fake limb, before straightening further. At the end, he was staring right into Dan's eyes.

"So you think you've got the market cornered on suffering, Nicholson," he stated icily. "You told me not to make assumptions about you. Fine—I expect the same courtesy. I'll admit it: I never worried about starving to death before from a couple weeks ago. I never felt like some mugger was going to sneak up behind me and kill me. I didn't have to raise myself on the streets.

"But don't you stand there and tell me my whole life was so damn rosy. You picked on the fact I've got a nice younger sister a second ago—yeah, she is a nice person. You want to know why I have a younger sister? Because I was a mistake."

Dan said nothing to that.

"Yeah, it's great, being the king of the Aurino Republic. He does have a lot of 'big ideas', as you say," the young man went on bitterly. "One of them is that he wanted two sons and two daughters. Just perfect—one for each section of the nation. The boys get the two more 'violent' regions and establish order, and the two girls get the more peaceful ones and make utopias.

"Orion gets to be the sword of the Republic; Raphael is the shield. Natalie navigates the nation to harmony, and Miriam …well, who would become Miriam… she gets groomed to be the public face that lights everyone's hearts. Four leaders under one nation…but then Mom had to get pregnant with me, instead. A male. Of course he kept me; didn't want it public that having a third son was a mistake, and all…but…."

He trailed for a moment as some of his anger left him. He felt his throat tightening and a sense of weakness in him.

"He never saw any reason for a 'central part' of his planned Zilos Compass; it would be a waste of resources. At best, he thought I could be the …librarian… to my siblings; the one who helps them, and the one who cleans up after them. In other words, for all the niceties, the reality was that he saw me as expendable, as a mere shield for the offspring that really mattered.

"Do you know what it's like to grow up with your own father thinking of you —at best— as a 'spare'?" he asked more quietly. "Oh, he never said it; he never made it explicit. Not to me, at least. But…there was one day, years ago. There I was, playing hide-and-seek. I decided to use Father's study, and I hid in one of the large cabinets. I waited for Miriam to come in, but instead, in came my father and my uncle. There was my uncle, talking about my grades, how my training was going, and just how I was coming along. And there was my dad…"

He moistened his lips, staring off into space.

"…saying how inadequate it all was. How behind I was; how, in every way he could think of, I was…" He paused, recalling the exact words. "…'such a disappointment'."

He blinked, and looked back to Dan, firm again.

"Yeah, you had to earn your way in this world. You had it rougher than me. But I'm betting you never had to come back from some event you poured your whole heart and soul and being into, all to make the one man you respected the most happy, and see him walk to your brothers with a look that said 'Sons, I am so proud of you right now', and to your sisters with a look that said 'Daughters, I love you so very, very much', and then come to you with a look that said…" He grimaced and quivered. "…'oh—it's you again.'

"You hate your father. Well, I bet your father never made you feel like, deep down inside, the real reason he wanted you trained was so that you could be some sort of decoy or dummy, so that someone would off you and leave the sons he really loved intact.

"You had to work for everything, yeah…well, you got something back for it. You have people who respect you. Admire you. Count on you. You don't have an older brother with more natural talent in one finger than you have in your entire body, and another brother who can use mana in ways you can't imagine.

"And you didn't spend every waking hour, to the point of your arm being amputated, trying to measure up to them, no matter how impossible it was. And you didn't have to see, no matter what you did, that man you respect and love just keep looking annoyed, contemptuous, or just regretful; so much so that it became so obvious that even guys like Steiner, out there, knew he could treat me as if I'm some boot-scrubbing maggot, because he knew my father really didn't give a damn, one way or the other."

Dan's face had softened a bit by now. He hadn't changed his expression entirely, but he certainly wasn't as angry. Richard, meanwhile, was trying not to quiver; trying to ignore the burning in his eyes.

"Even though Raphael caused far more scandal than I ever did, he has that…thing, where you're loved for being bad; that 'charm'. I'm not good at it, so people often are all-the-more endeared by his playboy theatrics, while, if I were to do that, I would just be seen as a copycat or arrogant fool.

"No one ever sees Orion, but he's the standard of the country because he chops enemies up like a living meat grinder. But who's the Third Prince? Who's the 'extra' prince?"

He bowed his head. "They could have saved my arm, you know. If they'd only gotten to it two hours earlier, to be able to use healing magic in time—but no one did. No one did, in spite of my screaming into that transmitter nonstop. Claimed it was just a bad signal—" His jaw tightened. "—and that's how they said it…just the way I told you: 'Sorry—bad signal.' Then they went about their business.

"So, yeah, I think I know a thing or two about getting kicked around by the world. I also know a thing about being thought of as worthless by those in charge. I know what it's like to have almost everyone around you see you each day, and think, deep in their heart-of-hearts, 'Mavlos, can't something just kill that eyesore already?' And, most of all?

"I know now just how little my father really did think of me. I've gotten to experience what it was like to hear my own obituary. I got to see what everyone really felt. And in the end, what was I to my own father? Like you said: a chance to get rally points. Honestly? I don't think it would have mattered if I hadn't turned traitor. Tell me, Dan: do you still think I don't know jack about feeling disposable, still think my life was so bright and cheery until now?"

Dan was silent. He wasn't alone; Voltaire actually looked to Richard with a rather horrified look—after all, he'd never known the whole story; he'd only seen the same abbreviated version that everyone else had. He swallowed, looking like he wanted to say something, but in the end looked to Dan. The gang leader showed nothing…but there was no longer anger or tension there.

After a moment, Dan moistened his lips and cracked his neck. "Man," he finally said, much quieter and less snarkily than before, "and here I thought there was a lot of bad blood between me and Pa. Yeah, I figure he blames me a bit for what happened to Mom, and I know he doesn't care for my nightlife, but…yeah. He hasn't had the luxury of looking at me like some unwanted pet, whether he wanted to or not. This is something else. I guess royal politics are more screwed-up than I thought…but still, man…that just proves you're doing this all for yourself; you're not out to make guys and gals like me better off."

"You're wrong," the young man snapped back. "I do want to help you, and everyone else in the Republic. You want me to be honest? Yes, that's what I wanted—at first. Then I saw what happened to you in the Diamond Dome. How cops could just drag you off somewhere and kill you, and no one would think anything more of it…and I thought about how that wasn't so different from what had just happened to me. Then came Rycroft—psychopaths like Dr. Salinger are no better than Steiner: guys in power who get to treat whoever they want however they want, simply because they're bigger than everyone else.

"I don't even know if I can get back to my family without them trying to kill me, Dan. But, even if I did, do you really think someone like me is such a spoiled little brat that all I care about is hoarding my own wealth and power? That I'll forget about you and everything else I've seen? There may have been people like that in the past …hell, maybe even today… but the one thing I learned from my father —and my mother, and my uncle— is that I'm not in this position just to glorify myself.

"My family —most of my family, at least— raised me with the ideal that a nobleman is supposed to lead by example. It's one thing for a commoner to run from battle, but if a nobleman does, or does something else to disgrace himself or herself, it's a disgrace to their honor. I don't know if the ones who taught me this creed took it seriously, but it seems worth following to me. With great power comes great responsibility, and to neglect that responsibility is disgraceful.

"I have to represent people —I have to look out for them— or I really am worthless. Yes, I have 'big plans'. Yes, I'm willing to risk my own life for them. Yes, I want to take risks. But why? Because what good am I if I don't! What good is any of this power, if I don't try to change something with it? And what good are all those in power right now, if they're just keeping things the way they are, and never dreaming of anything bigger?"

Dan said nothing. Richard sighed.

"The best way—the only way I can change things now is as 'Requiem'. I'll do it alone if I have to, but, even if you don't care for my 'dream', I figured you would at least want to use your own power for something more." He paused, then finally asked, "Are you willing to follow me, or do you still want to walk out?"

The former gang leader looked Richard straight in the eye. He didn't move; he just looked straight at him and seemed to consider things. His mouth twisted. He let out a sigh.

"I'll give you this: ideas like yours at least sound nice in concept, even if they never work out. You seem to be serious about sticking to this, whether it's because you're devoted, or you've snapped and you're too crazy to back down."

"So long as we're getting all this on the table," Voltaire suddenly spoke up, "Some of us do intend to go through with what we say, Dan. Despite what you think, not all rich people just want to lie around and swim in ponds of their own gold while thinking of more ways to rip off of the poor. Some of us do want to use our power to make the world better for everyone, not just ourselves. It's part of why I'm helping Richard with this: to do what I can to make things right."

"Nice speech," Dan answered sardonically. "Doesn't prove anything either."

Richard didn't know how they were supposed to get out of this loop. He was fairly exasperated; he had told Dan what he was really after, and it seemed as if he wasn't going to accept that as "good enough", no matter what he did.

He had to find some way to convince him, now more than ever. He knew the truth, and Richard needed him here if for no other reason than to keep tabs on him—but even if not, he was the best one in the group; he could be a huge help.

As he looked around a bit, trying to think of something else, he spotted the capsule in the corner. On seeing it, he got an idea. It was a bit of a long shot, but he had already tried everything else….

"All right," Richard said, "if you think I'm nuts, I'm dry on ways to convince you otherwise. So how about talking to my uncle? I was planning on calling him right before you came in anyways."

"Uh, Richard, I'm going to have to voice some objections on this one…" Voltaire spoke up as Richard immediately walked to the transmitter. "I'm not sure it's a good idea for him to be here during our chat."

The young man merely started to press buttons , sending out a "buzz" signal to see if Nathan could pick up. "He's already seen and knows this much; he might as well go all the way." A beep came from the machine. "Good—he's available."

Immediately he stepped back as Dan looked at the machine, watching as the capsule split and extended until it formed the holographic projector array as it was supposed to. A few beams of light streaked out and began to paint an image as the old system fired up, and, a few moments later, the beams had formed an unmistakable image of Nathan's head. As he came into view, he was shifting a bit, getting into place and making sure everything was all right; once that was done, the prime minister looked up and nodded.

"Ah, Richard. I regret to say I'm going to have to make this one a short meeting; these are tense times, and I don't have too much of it on hand at the moment. I'm expected in five minutes." He adjusted a bit and focused on the young man.

"First things first, I'm glad to see you're all right. The report from Fiona just came in. She was in Costa Toro, as you may or may not know, and found some gangsters that were an accessory to the main group that caused all the damage there —the 'Ibis Corps', or so they called themselves— and, considering the mess they left behind, I was starting to fear the worst until Voltaire called and gave me some advance word."

"Well, so long as that's all they said, nothing about the Crimson Tengu Ravens being behind a bloodbath, then I'd say I'm glad to hear it, and grateful that my ploy worked," Voltaire answered with a grin. "We still need to work out a better way to debut to the public…."

Richard, on his part, nodded back. "Thanks for your concern, Uncle. You probably already know most of what happened—namely, that the rest of those gangsters with them didn't make it out. I'd guess the group Fiona found never heard the news. As for us, we fought with a guy named Zandoris. Called himself the 'Majin Chevalier of the Ibis Corps'. It wouldn't be too much to call him a living nightmare.

"I'm not even sure if we hurt him so much as made him excited…." He shook his head. "Frankly, the only reason I'm still here right now is a combination of Greymont and the Magna Centurions' arrival causing him to pull out. We don't have much time, so I'll get right to it: if you have any information about the Ibis Corps to give to us, I'd really like to have it. I don't want to run into this guy or any others like him in the near future, but if we do, we'll need to be more prepared than this time."

Nathan frowned and closed his eyes. "Unfortunately, I can't really help you—there isn't much to tell. Until Fiona's report, we couldn't even confirm they were an actual PMC, and not merely a name being thrown around. I can tell you this, however: no one contracts them—they seek out people and offer their services. —And, considering the fact they worked with this gang and left the valuables behind, it's clear they aren't out for money.

"Their order, or at least its inner circles, is composed entirely of elite warriors, wizards, and others who are, they say, 'the best at what they do'. They seem to conform neither to terrorist nor mercenary stereotypes; they're neither out to change policies nor to become wealthy, seeming to indicate they are mostly working for themselves.

"Lastly, they always stick to the shadows. It's honestly surprising that you saw them at all in Pokarda; this whole affair was unusually brazen of them.

"Still, there have been more than a few reports of a demonic knight. So, you really fought this Zandoris and lived? I must admit, even if you did not win, that I'm most impressed. You're one of the very few who have survived seeing him. All we know is that he is one of the most savage individuals in the entire planet, and, alas, at the same time he is also one of the most formidable warriors."

Voltaire rubbed his chin. "There was something else that I should point out: the reason he killed the Hydra Wyverns was because he was looking for something called a 'Dragon Helix Emerald', and they didn't deliver."

Even with the low-resolution and monochromatic images of the projector, Richard could see Nathan turn a shade whiter upon hearing that. He immediately seemed to forget about his upcoming meaning, and instead his eyes widened as he leaned in closer to the projector.

"Did…did you say a Dragon Helix Emerald?"

The red-haired man snickered: "Well, there goes my next question—apparently you know what those are…."

Richard was more anxious about this change. "What's wrong, Uncle? What's a Dragon Helix Emerald?"

The prime minister took a moment to compose himself, although his face still looked rather troubled. "Richard, Voltaire, you both remember our lessons about mana gems, right? Ones that aren't just powerful conduits like the ones we use for wands, but are actual vessels of a sort? Ones that actually hold magic in them, sometimes on a level beyond that any mortal mage can conjure?"

Nathan shifted a bit. "Well, those are the greatest of them: the Dragon Helix Emeralds. They've gone by many different names over the years. 'Soul Gems'; 'Gene Crystals'; the name isn't nearly so important as the purpose. They're where powerful beings placed vast amounts of their own magical essences.

"Perhaps they wanted a way to 'double' their power on a whim, or pass it on to future generations. Whatever the reason was, they hold powerful magic, and sometimes an imprint of the individual; their memories; maybe even their souls. They were once thought of as a way to cheat death, by ensuring a person would be immortal in some form."

"How much power are we talking about?" Richard asked.

"Too much," Nathan grimly answered. "Throughout history, there've been cases where someone found a Helix Emerald. In many of them, they turned an individual previously incapable of casting magic at all into an archmage…and, whether due to the dark persona of the gem's original owner or their suddenly having so much power, they invariably become a scourge themselves.

"Humans weren't the only ones to forge and utilize them, though; possibly not even the first. The dragons also used them, hence their name, 'Dragon Helix Emeralds'."

Even Dan looked a bit uncomfortable at that from his spot on the wall. Richard and Voltaire were far more so—just the thought of someone like Zandoris being able to use the power of a dragon as well as his own…and what would have to have been one of the deadlier and stronger ones. One of those might put him indeed above and beyond any member of the Magna Centurions; maybe even half of them put together….

"But…they couldn't really exist, could they?" Voltaire asked. "I mean, if they did, and someone came across one, like they do regular mana gems, I think we'd all know about it, whether we wanted to or not…."

"Oh, but we did," Nathan said with a grim chuckle. "I trust you both recall enough of your history lessons to remember the name 'Czar Kvar Gredenko'? Also known as 'Kvar the Loathsome'? Well…he got his hands on one of those Dragon Helix Emeralds about five hundred years ago—and perhaps they were indeed regarded as a myth at that time, but not after; not after he was nearly able to take on the whole world by himself, through the power of a single one. And naturally he wasn't satisfied with the abilities conferred by just one; he found out about the existence of more, and tried to get them, and Mavlos help us all if that had ever come to pass…."

The old man paused here. He looked about a bit from his viewpoint, seeming to make sure no one else was close even more than before, and then looked back.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you now—you already know what they are, and apparently so do the Ibis Corps." He hesitated again. "The truth is, each Great Nation has some Dragon Helix Emeralds in their possession, right this very minute."

Now it was Richard's turn to gape; Voltaire and even Dan followed suit.

"After the world saw what just one could do, the leaders at the time thought of ridding themselves of their own…but the risk was too great; there was always a chance a nation would renege and keep theirs.

"Whoever did that would be the only world power, so instead everyone held onto theirs, but erased all records of their existence. No one outside the highest levels of power in each nation knows about their existence, where all of them are, or even how many can be found within their own borders."

"So either the Ibis Corps wants these gems to buff themselves up more than they are already," Voltaire muttered, "or they just want them to escalate conflicts." He shrugged. "They're a PMC organization; that would mean more business for them. Either way, it's definitely in the bin of 'not good'."

"I'm afraid it's worse than that," Nathan said as he crossed his arms. "The Ibis Corps can be as shadowy as they like, but they need some public face at some point to handle negotiations, deals, and basically the task of an emissary.

"None of my sources have turned up anything definite; only that whenever they're rumored to be in town, it always seems that there is one particular individual nearby…." His eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you have a good idea of who, Richard."

The young man tensed up. His shock began to turn into an angry glare. "Well, if we know this, then—"

"I'm afraid it's the same problem as before," Nathan grimly answered. "Coincidence. This is the first time we've even had good reason to believe the Ibis Corps were behind something, and we still have no physical proof. But if you say they were really looking for the Dragon Helix Emeralds…" His teeth actually gnashed in anger and fear. "…then that means his true reason for getting further and further into Andross' favor is so he can get him to reveal the location of Aurino's hidden Emeralds.

"Such a move would be madness, even for the most irresponsible of rulers —to tell a lobbyist where to find the keys to likely more power than even the king himself possesses— but as of late I'm finding it harder and harder to not put it past my brother…."

"How about that." Dan suddenly spoke up from the wall. "Guess you guys found a link after all. I suppose truth is stranger than fiction…."

At once, Nathan paused, turning his head slightly and looking confused. "…Um, pardon me, Richard, but who was that?"

The young man swallowed, feeling like a kid who had broken a secret and been caught in the act. He slowly turned his head behind him, and saw Dan slyly grinning back. Reluctantly, he beckoned to him to come forward, and the former gang leader stopped leaning on the wall and walked over, coming into the range of the holographic transmitter so Nathan could spot him as well. Lamely, Richard turned back to the projector and indicated Dan.

"Uncle Nathan, Dan Nicholson. Dan, Uncle Nathan."

Nathan noticed the incoming individual, but seemed only to muse about it at first. His look eventually turned critical. "So, adding to your list of confidants, Richard?"

"More like he wrote his name on the list himself. This is the gang leader I told you about before, and he …um… kind of deduced my identity, so I didn't have much of a choice."

Richard was a bit afraid that Dan would be as snappy with Nathan as he had been with Richard, or as threatening or insolent, but nothing of the sort happened. He actually gave a polite nod as he came to a stop. "It's an honor to meet you in person, Lord Zilos," he said, being very calm and mannerly. "I'll admit I'm not too big on authority figures, as you might have guessed—but I'm always into a leader who I hear can outdrink Troy."

Nathan actually smiled at this. "Well, I'm starting to get up there, and my liver isn't what it used to be, but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless," he replied. "So you're the one Richard was talking about. My nephew did say you had gusto, and now I see he was spot-on. It is a pleasure to meet you, Dan Nicholson.

"I can assure you this is a very real, very tense situation. I don't know what Richard has told you, but Alec Steel does indeed currently have a tight grip on my brother. Ever since King Andross nearly died from that illness, he's been doing things he never would have done in the past—such as letting a lobbyist influence his decisions.

"Without proof, though, any actions against him would backfire, and Steel's grasp would just get tighter; that's why it has to be precise, and be uncovered before Steel can find out. That's why I'm supporting Richard and Voltaire—to give them a chance to succeed.

"Dan, I don't know your life, but —despite the secrecy— my nephew means well. We are working to hopefully prevent the Aurino Republic from being led to disaster. I can understand that this nation may not have been doing its job for you, but I hope you are nevertheless willing to help my nephew protect it in the best way he can."

Dan laughed and responded cockily. "Eh, don't worry; I was never too big on letting jackasses have their way. I have to admit, though, that it seems like you guys really are legit about this.

"Besides, I can't let my pals have died for nothing, and these guys really do need to be knocked down a peg, so I guess it's worth the risk. Don't worry, Your Highness—I'm not going to blow your show, as long as you hold true to your word."

Dan offered his hand, and Richard grinned in relief at this before replying. "I know you don't put much trust in my words or ideas, Dan, but I don't know how else to get you to see in this moment how serious I am about this. I know doing what is right is costly at times, and is rarely easy—but does that mean it isn't worth the cost?

"I refuse to believe that. I mean, if no one is going to bother to do anything worthwhile because it's hard, then how is anything ever going to get done? —That's why, no matter how hard it is, I'm going to keep trying. I assure you, Dan, on my honor: I intend to do whatever I can to uphold my promises."

As the two shook hands, Nathan looked proud. "I'm glad you can trust us, Dan. Richard, I'm sorry, but I have to go—I'm supposed to be meeting your parents.

"This revelation about the Ibis Corps and the Dragon Helix Emeralds makes me wonder about a few things, though. I promise I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Till then, be mindful of current events, and, if you act again, make sure it's something worth the effort. Good luck, everyone."

The beams shattered and were cut off as the transmitter powered down and began to collapse.

While it was closing, both Richard and Voltaire looked back to Dan. Richard finally cut the silence. "So, what now? Are you satisfied yet?"

"His word wasn't going to convince me any more than you two's, but he is the Prime Minister of the Aurino Republic—d'you think I'm stupid enough to mouth-off in front of a guy like that? Hell, your own dad tried to have you rubbed out; what the hell would a guy like that do to a schnook like me?"

Both of the other men grimaced a bit at that answer, but Dan wasn't done. He took a deep breath, then finally said, "It's a whole new game now, if they're after those…things. You and your family might just treat us as disposable soldiers, but it beats a guy like Zandoris getting one and using it to extend his little maxim of kill 'em all and let Mavlos sort 'em out. Besides, if I back out on you at this point, now your uncle knows my face."

"And this stays in here," Richard added, somewhat relieved that Dan was consenting, but still nervous about the matter at hand. "This stays in here, between the three of us."

"You've got my word…" Dan answered, "…so long as you do one thing for me." He smirked. "Send us after someone who won't just kick our collective asses through the ground next time."

Richard, realizing this was about as good as he could hope for at the moment, nodded and looked back to Voltaire with a tired sigh. "I'll admit fighting people we can beat sounds like a good idea. I don't suppose we have anything on the docket?"

The red-haired man answered by flipping his coat open, reaching inside, and pulling out a data pad. "Not just yet —not a whole lot of time on my end to plan this sort of thing— but…" He began to type on it. "…it seems our invalid guest hasn't spent all her time eating processed food and sleeping; she finished going over that data you swiped off of the Hydra Wyverns, and found they were going to hit more of the Midas Hounds next. Apparently," He looked a bit more. "they were tensing up that the Midas Hounds were moving in on their territory."

Dan looked up and frowned. "Those guys have bling, but no muscle behind it; they'd have gotten their asses handed to them on a platter by the Wyverns. How the hell did they manage to take some Hydra turf?"

"It would seem the Midas Hounds are now getting a 'corporate sponsorship' in the form of the Diamond Don's Mob. The word is that there's going to be a big exchange in the reservoir; the Midas Hounds are going to be getting their pick of a bunch of recently-appropriated high-tech weaponry.

"I don't know the details, save this one: there's a rising lieutenant in the mob coming to make sure the deal goes through smoothly." He looked up a bit. "I think you've mentioned the name 'Dick Blackberry Raszkowski' or something similar to it before, right?"

Dan's eyes widened the size of dinner plates; at once, all of his exhaustion and pain from Costa Toro seemed to vanish as he tensed up and went to full alert. He reached out and snatched the data pad from Voltaire and held it before his own eyes, as if needing to confirm it was real. He then nearly tossed it back to him and whirled on Richard.

"'Dick', as in 'Dickberry the Rat That Sold Me and the Others Out'? So, he really did throw us under the river to make a quick buck!?"

Voltaire shrugged. "Most likely."

While Richard didn't really care for how dangerous Dan was looking, he had to admit he had little love for this guy, based on what he had heard about him. More importantly, he realized this was his chance: this was a mission the Crimson Tengu Ravens were not only willing to go on, but wanted to. After what had happened yesterday, he realized this would be the best way to get morale back: give them a mission keyed with their desires in mind.

"Well, Dan, you're willing to help me get my own revenge; I guess it's only fair I give you the same courtesy. Just don't kill him outright—we may need information from him."

"Oh, don't worry…" the former gang leader answered, cracking his knuckles, "…I want to hear a lot more come out of him than just whatever he knows before I waste him. Dickberry, if you thought you could just sell out your bros for a few quick bucks and walk away, think again!"